Don’t despair. That’s what Redana clings to, desperately. Don’t despair. If you give up now, then Odoacer wins. There’ll be a sham wedding, where the bride hobbles down the aisle while the Admiral preens. Don’t forget, she’ll whisper as the sacrifice to Aphrodite is performed, one word from me and your precious little Servitor will be spaced. Now, be a good princess and say I do. And after that... another gilded cage. A cell deep within the flagship, meals delivered by dumbwaiter, a door triple-locked from the outside, and always the threat: [i]one word from me and Bella dies.[/i]

So that has to be stopped here and now. There has to be time. She needs time. The longer she can delay Odoacer, the more likely it is that her friends will come to save her, guided by the wisdom of her father. The gods help those who delight them, after all.

She takes a moment to try and steel herself. It’s not easy. Her stomach feels strange, like she’s teetering in the edge of a cliff, nervous and guilty and tight — and that was [i]before[/i] Bella wrapped her warm, soft tail around it. There’s a tension taut at her breastbone and a breathlessness in her head that absolutely, totally only has to do with how any breath through her mouth is wet and slobbery. Is it warm in here? She’s so warm. And tingly. Is that because her body’s falling asleep?

If she squirms out of the chain (and she totally could) she’d just be making Odoacer angrier. She can’t fight with her leg still numb and useless, she can’t run away, and she needs to let Odoacer think she has the upper hand completely. That she can gloat.

So instead she rests her head against her shoulder while Bella furiously wiggles behind her. (Fingers accidentally interlace. She feels guilty for how reassuring that feels. Bella is being a real brathead stinkyface right now. And letting her free so she can kill another person is very much the wrong idea![1])

She looks Odoacer in the eye, and then casts her gaze down and flutters her eyelashes like Cassiothe in [i]Danger on Orion VI[/i] when she’s captured by the Azora captain. She groans, huskily, around the leather bit in her mouth; spit bubbles on her lower lip; her toes curl in her boots as she keeps going. Look back up, keep your eyes lidded but let her catch you sneak a look, then push out your chest[3] and [i]moan.[/i]

Come closer, she says. I’m helpless and all yours, she says. Tell me [i]everything,[/i] she invites, wordlessly.

***

[1]: [i]”You’ve been a very bad girl,” Redana says, going down to one knee to look Bella in the eye. Her bloody-handed Servitor writhes against the steel stocks, her hair messy, her ridiculous skirt hiked up. “And I’m not letting you back out until you’ve been unmurder-trained properly—“[/i][2]

[2]: this is where Redana’s imagination burned itself out out of sheer embarrassment, leaving her to note that maybe Keeping Bella Contained was a good idea.

[3]: this was, comparatively, much less visually impressive than if Bella had done the same thing. Redana has a bad case of Olympians’ Chest[4].

[4]: “two bronze medals,” as the punchline goes. Or “built for archery,” as the polite euphemism goes.

***

[[b]7[/b] on Keep Them Busy!]