The next morning when I awake, I find positive heaps of sewing supplies. All sorts of various shears; hundreds of different threads, each in a different hue and shade and gauge; bolts and bolts and bolts of fabrics. The fabrics aren't the sort I'm used to. Instead of soft cotton and light linen and warm wool, these are silk and brocade and velvet. The spools of ribbon and buckets of trim are raw satin ribbon and freshwater pearls and glittering diamonds. Besides my shock at all of the items provided me, I feel a little chill deep down inside at the idea that Everett's odd unspeaking servants were creeping about in my quarters.
I tuck into the breakfast that has been set out for me. It is berries with cream and brown sugar and a large mug of dark tea. The berries are the ripest I've had in a long time, and the cream is thick and fluffy. The brown sugar is spectacularly sweet, and it's fairly hard to mess up a mug of dark tea. After eating, I sit down on a plum velvet hassock and start to cut into the fabrics laid out for me. I know my own measurements by heart, having sewn for a long while. I begin to sew things that I would normally wear, leaving the garments as plain as possible. After a few hours, I look upon my work. One must have a critical eye, even when looking upon one's own work.

I've sewn trousers and lacing blouses and plain gowns of the sort I'd wear at home, but in luxurious fabrics. I dress myself in a pair of blue brocade trousers and a lacing blouse of ivory chiffon. The outfit is ridiculous, but it's the most comfortable thing I've worn since my arrival. I search for a pair of shoes, but all I can find are the ones with curling toes. I take the largest pair of shears and chop off the long toes of the shoes. I then stash the shears in my blouse. I make all of my clothing with hidden pockets, in case something imperative needs to come with me. Something in the vein of a small knife. Or a large knife. Or a package of sweets.
I run into Everett on the way out of my chambers. He beams at me.
"Oh, hello, Lore. Would you like a tour of the castle?"
"Why would I want to go anywhere with you?  And do NOT call me Lore, ever again. It's what my mother used to call me." My face flushes. I hadn't wanted to tell anyone that.
"What happened to your mother?" He asks, an awful look of false sympathy on his face.
"She's dead," I snap. "And I'll thank you not to ask any more questions."
He grabs my by the arm and yanks me down the hallway.
And so he sets off, and I forcedly follow, secretly burning up inside. He seems to gain pleasure from taking me about, although I suppose I might feel the same way if I had a massive castle and it was all mine. The first room he takes me to is, funnily enough, his. He doesn't allow me inside, only tells me that these are his quarters, and that I am not to enter. His quarters have a massive, sculpted oak door, shining in the dim light of the corridor. As we walk across the lawn, he looks to me.
"My darling, would you like to have a light repast before we continue? I do so hate to see a lady pale and famished."
I can feel my face flush. "Yes, I would like some food. And please do not refer to me as your darling. It nauseates me."

A table is set for us in the courtyard, wrought iron and gray marble, a fine table. I sit across from him. The maids bring out some tea sandwiches and small desserts. I pile my plate high with cucumber sandwiches and shrimp rolls and desserts. After sampling the excellent miniature chocolate gateau and three of the vanilla éclairs with extra custard, I look Everett straight in the eye.
"Why did you bring me here? You must have some purpose. If you wanted to kill me, I'd be dead already. If you wanted to enslave me, we wouldn't be here enjoying fine pastries on a sunny day in the courtyard. So why?"
He looks at me for a moment. "Because I wish to marry you, Lorelei. You are beautiful and kind and cunning and wise."
I blink for a few seconds, and then I start laughing so hard that I begin to snort. Miss Perugia says that snorting is unbecoming to a lady, but I can't help it. "Alright. I know that I'm not pretty, and I constantly struggle with kindness. Do you think that a kind person would have shears hidden in her blouse? I may be cunning, but if I were wise I would be back in my own castle already. And in regards to the shears, if you think that you can remove them from my person, you are severely mistaken."
"Also, Lore, you are the sole heir to the Red Dragon Kingdom. If I married you, I would rule over both kingdoms. Besides, if you don't want to marry me, I can hold you hostage until your kingdom is just handed to me. Also, if you attempt to escape, I will send out all of my armies to attack your kingdom."
I fix Everett with my steely gaze. "What if I don't want to marry you? And I am sure that no sane woman would want to be a hostage."
He laughs. "We have certain methods of, how should I put it, persuasion." He places an arm upon my shoulder, the way that a caring husband would comfort his wife. His wife. Yeah, Everett wishes.
I shake his arm off of my shoulder and elbow him hard in the gut. "Meaning?"
He winces, coughs, and glares at me. "Meaning that it would be a whole lot less painful for you if you agreed under your own free will. Come, I still have something left to show you."
I follow him, rather unwillingly, as I wonder what sorts of sadistic 'methods of persuasion' he has. He's limping a little, and has one arm around his stomach. Good. I'm not mean, just a bit vengeful. And, I don't know, but I don't think that beating up a sadistic punisher of a man who kidnapped me and is now attempting to marry me against my will is a bad use of vengeful energy. He brings me right up to my room.

"What does my room have to do with anything?"
He gives me a sarcastic smile and rolls back my thick rug. Underneath is a trapdoor about the size of a large platter. He hands me one end of a large rope. And then he presses a button and the trapdoor slides out. "What's this for? Is it one of your sick little 'methods of persuasion'?" I can't help but ask.
He gives me one of his horrible smiles and then- before I can even react- he shoves me into the hole left by the trapdoor.
I scream, so loud that I think I shattered some glass somewhere. I'm falling pretty fast, and all of a sudden I hit what must be the bottom of the hole. Great, if all of this nonsense weren't bad enough, now I have a bruised bottom. The rope that I was holding slithers out of my grasp and back up the hole. I look around. I'm in what is essentially a stone tube, with a closed off bottom. There are tiny spigots shoved into the wall in a ring around my feet, and I cannot help but wonder what they are for. I turn slowly about in a circle, examining everything. The tube is so tight that I cannot put my arms out full way in front of me. A part of me wonders childishly what happens when people who are more, shall we say, substantial than me go down here.

I hear a hissing noise, and suddenly water comes bursting out of the spigots like someone pushed it. The water quickly rises, coming to about my chest before the hissing stops. The water is cold, too, and I suppose that the moisture is completely ruining my new trousers. They feel as though someone pumped water into them, and that is not a pleasant feeling, believe you me. You'd think they could at least offer a heated towel or something. More water hisses out in quick pumps, and it slowly rises up my face. I want to scream, but my mouth is fully submerged. I'm drowning! I try to breath, but I take in gulps of horrible water instead. I make an odd, strangled sound and shake. The water is over my head. I always knew Everett was mad, but never suspected he could be exactly so mad as to drown me. I start to shiver, and that's when the rope comes back down. I grab onto it with my entire person, making sure that it won't slither away from me this time. Someone, most likely Everett, is cranking up the rope, and me with it. I finally reach the top, and Everett offers a hand to me. I slap it away and finish pulling myself up. I take gasps of clean, cold, beautiful air. Oh, the air! I shake off like a wet dog, cough up some water, and then turn on him, glaring.

"WHAT WAS THAT FOR?" I scream. Enraged, I toss satiny pillows off of my bed at him. I chuck one of my pointy-toe shoes at his other eye. I generally howl and scream and throw things until he can't stand it anymore.
He looks at me with an expression of forced calm. "The purpose of that was to show you what my methods of persuasion are, exactly. That is called an oubliette, and it has been conveniently placed in your chambers."
I look him straight in the eye. "Everett, you can force me to marry you, and you can hold me hostage until my hair falls out. But I will never, not ever, love you for even a second. And you can try to rule my kingdom, but our people are too smart for you. They'll never let you do this to them." And I can't resist adding a childish, "So there!"

Unfortunately, I am very, very short, and he is quite tall. So when I am trying to get up in his face, I am more getting up in his midriff. It is a very awkward position to be in. Before I can pull away, he grabs me with both arms. I struggle against him, but struggling against Everett is like struggling against a brick wall. He lifts me upward with his-rock-like arms, and then, before I can protest, kisses me hard. It's awful, his mouth tastes like fish. Finally, I turn around a bit, twisting just enough to bite his hand. Hard. Blood fills my mouth, but the taste is better than the nasty, fishy taste of his mouth. He recoils and releases me, and I run from him and into my washroom, wiping my mouth off on my hand. No man would ever dare interrupt a lady in her washroom, so I'm safe for a few moments. I decide to take a long hot bath. The longer I bathe, the longer I can be alone. The tub that has been provided for me is shaped like a large flower, but the crystal is tinted a sickly acid green. The water that I pour in through the taps is warm and caressing and I sink into it gladly. I feel as though the time spent at the Green Dragon castle is like a sticky film, and now I am soaking it all off. I add a small green bottle to the water, and massive soapy bubbles fill the tub. I feel relaxed and cheerful for the first time, and I love it. I find a cake of soap and scrub myself so hard that my skin is raw and pearly pink when I finally drain out the water and dry off. The towels are massive and soft and I roll about in one luxuriously. The only things that are good about this place, as far as I can tell, are the food and baths. They especially have excellent pastries. I dress myself in a light linen gown and then pull a green satin bell cord next to my bed. Almost as soon as I drop the bell-pull, three maids run in.
"Pastries," I tell them. "I need loads and loads of pastries. And I'd like some more sewing supplies, if you please."
They're gone faster than a whip crack. Those maids are unnatural, and I can't help but wonder if they are under some sort of enchantment. They are back just as fast, with tiered trays full of delicious pastries. Before I can even ask about the sewing supplies, three more maids stagger in with bolts of fabric and thread. It feels awful knowing that these slippery, unspeaking maids have been in my chambers while I sleep. That's another reason that I need to get out of here. Although it isn't that bad living here. There's good food, and everything (safe and/or legal, which means nothing fun) that I have wanted here has been provided for me on a silver platter. It's almost like a luxury vacation, if you don't count the fact that I was brought here against my will and that sooner or later I will be forced to marry someone I would prefer not to marry. I'd rather not even be here, but it's not so completely and terribly awful that I'd put thousands of people in jeopardy just for my own comfort. Of course, there is that whole marriage issue, but I'll mend that sock when there's a hole in it.