Festering hunger crawls through Brielle and Caldwell's stomachs. Aylwin's held them prisoner for a fortnight, feeding them crumbs and scraps whenever the mood suits him. Right now, the vain bastard sits above them, his teeth tearing into a tender turkey leg as he waits for Harry to stumble upon the ruins he's claimed as his castle.

Brielle rests her palms flat against her stomach and closes her eyes. Nothing. The child inside her does not move toward her touch or draw her heartbeat toward the sky. A single, forlorn tear slides down the hollow slope of her left cheek.

"Elle?"

She opens her eyes to find Caldwell drumming his fingers against the floor and watching her the way mothers watch young children. "Hmm?"

His gaze shifts to her midsection and flickers to the wet track on her cheek. "Why didn't you say something?"

"He won't allow me to keep it."

Caldwell nods, the muscles in his jaw straining to relax. The guard abandons his post, leaving the two alone for the first time since their arrival.

"Does Harry know?"

Brielle kicks a loose stone, her eyes trailing its path across the room. "No. I intended to tell him the night we were wed."

She should have told him the moment the midwife confirmed she was with child. All secrecy has led to is misfortune and the entire process is exhausting. When they can breathe fresh air again, she'll burn any secrets before they fester into disfigured monsters.

It feels like someone has thrown sand into her open mouth. Sitting in a dark cell and succumbing to mute silence will drive her mad. "How does your leg feel?" The stitching held nicely, but the flesh around his calf is still swollen and festering. She doesn't know much about wounds or healing, but she knows what looks proper and healthy.

Caldwell shrugs, shifting his weight and wiggling his toes. "Better than amputated. I'm sure it could be a lot worse given the circumstance."

An unfamiliar guard takes the post of the previous, staring at the wall and feigning interest. Brielle wonders how much Aylwin pays them to babysit, that's if he even pays them at all. Skeletons can't possibly cause so much harm to such bored men.

Caldwell watches a rat the size of his hand nibble on wet straw near the back of the cell. "What do you think is worse? Consumption or starvation?"

Brielle almost laughs. "Consumption. Always."

"How did you manage that one, by the way? No one heard much from Harry, he was a seething wave of frustration and threatened to tear the head off of anyone who dared to ask about you."

She can see him, red in the face and barking indecipherable words at anyone who dares infer about something out of his control. A waning smile rests upon her lips. "Yes, well, he needs a few more lessons in that area. I don't remember much, just a lot of delirium and bloodletting. Every time I woke, I felt like someone else was in my head, swimming around my thoughts and drawing me back to sleep regardless of what I wanted. Master Avery tried everything. Once I woke with a priest mumbling latin over me as if I were already dead."

"Has he always been like that? So...attentive to those close to him? To you?"

Brielle closes her eyes and pretends they're walking the castle grounds. She can't remember what fresh air feels like. "Yes, his parents hate that about him. Alaria loves him for it as do I." And it's the only thing Aylwin will use to his advantage.

The standard guard Caldwell belittles returns and flings open the door to their cell. Beneath them, the floor trembles as the bars collide with the wall. Brielle's impressed the ceiling doesn't cave in.

"Oh look, a visitor. Come to have a chat?"

He glares at Caldwell and reaches for Brielle's arm, his grip tight enough to leave five circular bruises. "Get up."

Brielle trips over large cracks and scrapes all the skin off her knees. The guard drags her forward and up three flights of stairs that make her feel like a skeleton incapable of moving her own muscles.

In a room lit by only two feeble candles, Aylwin sits behind a desk covered in papers. Correspondence between allies. "Welcome, welcome." He waves his hands and wears a smile that makes her skin crawl. "Please, have a seat, Princess."

She's pushed forward by the guard. He can be as polite as he pleases, she will not offer him the audience he's expecting.

"All right, then." Aylwin pulls his eyes together, staring at her filthy, tattered dress. "Is there something you'd like to tell me?"

Brielle stares at the wall behind his head.

Harry points to a spot on the wall. "When you're nervous or don't want to look at someone, look behind them and at the wall. Father thinks I look at him every time he opens his mouth, but I stare at his tapestries and think about you instead."

Blush consumes her cheeks. "You think about me?"

He shrugs, eyes shifting to the wall and then back to hers. "All the time."

She doesn't think there's anything special about her worth thinking about. Her hair isn't nice and neither or her clothes and she's not very funny.

Green eyes watch her with flickering intensity. She can't bring herself to look at the wall, even though some part of her wants to run away. "I think about you, too."

Bored and tired of games, the guard kicks the back of her left knee. Brielle falls to the floor, hands splayed in front of her as her bones scream from the impact. Aylwin says something and she's hauled to her feet.

"I don't believe you understand how this works."

Understanding is different from complying.

He stands and leans over the desk, palms flat against the smooth wood. "Do you want to see me angry?"

Teeth bite down on her tongue, filling her mouth with blood. All she has to do is watch the wall and keep her words in her throat: pretend she's as stiff and unfeeling as Richard.

Aylwin stares, unblinking for what feels like an hour, before exhaling like an ox and straightening his shoulders until she's sure his spine will snap. "Enough games. Geoffrey's told me you're with my doddypoll of a brother's child. How am I to know if this information is to be believed if you pretend to be mute?"

Shadows dance up and down the wall, playful and unaware of the bitter man's presence filling the room.

Another angry sigh.

"Geoffrey, stand guard outside the door."

Geoffrey blinks three times, his jaw rigid with anger. "What?"

"You heard me. Stand guard outside the door. Unless you'd like to visit your friend in the dungeons, I'm sure he has plenty of jokes for you."

Wind rushes through the small space as the door slams. Aylwin makes his way toward her, his strides slow and deliberate. He cocks his head to the left, inspecting her the way dogs inspect foreign people. "Pretty enough, even now. I can do better than him. I, for one, don't mess around when I am engaged with another."

Like a vulture, he circles her, inspecting every sharp angle. "Strange, you don't look much like a woman with child. Tell me, Elle, how am I supposed to know the truth if you keep your words locked behind your lips?"

His hands are on her shoulders, trailing down her arms in a paralyzing caress. The moment she opens her mouth, Geoffrey will burst through the door and strike her, or kick her knees again. "Say the word and I'll stop."

She knows he won't stop. It doesn't matter if she tells him she's with Harry's child or if she keeps her mouth shut. He'll do whatever he wants.

"I take it back. You're quite intriguing, more than just a pretty face on a common girl."

Brielle closes her eyes, her fists clenched at her sides.

His fingers are on her cheek, ghosts upon paper skin. "One last chance, dove."

She doesn't open her eyes, imagines Harry in their home, twirling a giggling little girl in his arms. A little girl with forest green eyes and wavy brown hair.

Aylwin grabs her dress by the bodice and pulls. The small force is enough to tear the worn fabric and expose every inch of skin underneath.

Brielle opens her eyes, her arms raising to cover her chest. He smirks and reaches for the ruined silk once more, tearing the fabric until everything above her waist is laid bare.

His hand is cold as it pries her arms away and forces them to her sides. "Make a move against me and Geoffrey will return with a swift message."

Hot and angry tears roll down her cheeks as his hand cups her breast, thumbs running over the skin just beneath. "Such a shame you cling to him instead." His hand travels to her stomach, resting over the small bump that's fought to claim space against her bones. "Ah, so you are with child. Does he know?"

She doesn't answer, acid crawling through her throat.

A terrifying grin takes hold of his lips. "Perfect." His gaze lingers on her breasts before traveling a slow path to her eyes. "I'll send a plate of food for you each night."

"No."

His eyebrows raise. "Oh?"

Brielle shakes her head and forces her chin higher. "I won't eat unless he eats, too."

He stares at her for a long moment. Testing her resolve. "One plate. You can decide how to share it, if you choose to share it at all."

"And water. We need water or we'll die."

Aylwin considers their worth and agrees with a dismissive hand gesture. "Done."

Brielle tries to ignore the dread pulsating in her veins. He'll send a raven to Harry with a constructed story and she has no idea how he will react. 

Author's Note: And I totally posted this a few days after I anticipated, but I hope this found you well! What are your thoughts so far? What do you think of Aylwin now that he's had more screen time?