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Bette was dragged by the arms, pulled bodily, and yanked brutally into the castle of her father, forced down a long flight of stairs and into the dank, damp prison cells below. Her rough treatment was largely her own doing as she resisted and fought every effort to move her along. Even bound and gagged she posed a formidable threat, surprisingly strong and extremely resourceful, launching both herself and her captors into nearby walls, doorways and tables in an effort to get free.
She almost succeeded, but she simply wasn’t fast enough with her arms tied behind her back and they caught her after a chase through the kitchens, which resulted in boiling water being spilt, a rack of pots spectacularly fell and several house servants fleeing, screaming. After that the guards were much less gentle, beating her into submission only to have her try to escape again the second she found an opportunity.
They left a trail of broken vases, overturned chairs, doors off hinges and artwork crooked or laying on the ground. One guard came out of his shoe and several candlesticks flew through the air to leave holes on opposite walls. It was a struggle that would be talked about all day, most of the servants remembered Bette from her childhood and many expressed outrage at the way she was handled.
By the time she was thrown in the cell, both guards were bloodied and spent, her nose was bleeding, her clothing torn and she was quite possibly suffering from a broken rib or two. She was covered in bloody scratches and bruises, not counting the ones sustained in the sword fight earlier.
The gag cut sharply into the corners of her mouth, bloody and painful but she rebounded quickly after being tossed in her cell, wasting no time attempting to launch herself at the cell door as it swung shut.
“You’re a wild one, aint ya?” The guard said laughing, blowing kisses at her lewdly. He wiped his sweaty brow, spit at tooth out on the floor, cocky now that she was safe behind bars.
It was a nasty business. “Cut her binds…” Commander Edwards barked, wanting to be done with the whole sordid affair.
Bette turned so the guard could sever the rope that bound her arms. He was quick to withdraw his hands and a good thing he was, Bette spun faster than he would have believed possible, reaching for him through the bars, even now trying to escape. She shook the bars angrily and roared at him, frustrated beyond measure.