Attire:Party fit (one brooch only) Date and Time: Sola 25th, Morning Location: The Edwards estate Mention(s): Anastasia, Farim, Drake, Duchess Edwards Interaction(s):@Rodiak Nahir, @Helo Rohit
Wulfric followed Nahir's gaze to his sister, who was sprawled in Farimâs lap.
He had noticed the two, of course he had. No one dared so much as whisper about the pair of debauched royals. Most averted their gaze from them, pretending they did not exist. Did that mean they were immune to the pitfalls of unfavourable public opinion? Not necessarily.
Wulfric was unfortunately used to Anastasiaâs decadent ways. Watching the pair, a number of faces and figures transposed onto the image of the Alidasht prince; the various men and women she had been with. From his viewpoint, the two were just playing around, as she liked to do. There was nothing special or different there compared to her past dalliances. If Farim was so easily given to carnal lust, he did not expect there would be anything to the courting efforts he had claimed he would pursue.
Disappointing.
After a brief observation, he turned back to Nahir. âIt has been eventful, has it not?â he agreed. âI do hope you have had moments of relaxation as well. I would not wish for your experience here to be too trying.â She referenced the recent chaos with deliberate delicacy. It was understandable an adept diplomat such as the Shehzadi preferred not to openly criticize. Nonetheless, Wulfric was aware the state of his kingdom was far, far from optimal.
Nahirâs words had shifted the conversation to the noble who had introduced himself as Rohit. The man enjoyed excitement, and asked for recommended spots to explore. âWithin Sorian? If you are interested in naturalistic romantic retreats, you may enjoy the Loverâs Lake. Pasta Oasis is a well-visited all-you-can eat restaurant featuring a pool. Speaking of pools, the Seaside Heaven Resort has water slides Iâm told even adults can enjoy. The Gambling and Games Hall is a fun time whenever you are in the mood for games of chance. Sports games are often hosted at the Athletic Stadium or the Athletic Arena. Generally, you will want to be on the lookout for the summer events which will be announced in the newspaper,â he listed a few venues based on what Rohit told them he had enjoyed so far.
Drakeâs performance had nearly been a background event to their conversation, but then there was a disruption as his friend promptly fell of the stage. Wulfric frowned at the lord. It was unusual. His gaze swept through the crowds. Noticing a trend, he eyed Rohit â or rather, the drink the man had already started on. âIf you would rather refrain from getting embarrassingly drunk, I suggest you do not finish that drink. As delicious looking as they are, it appears these cocktails are unexpectedly potent.â
Potentially spiked drinks featuring at this party was suspicious given recent events. However, the only apparent effect so far was inebriation. Not as concerning as drugging or magic, though Wulfric still figured it would be best to have someone collect a sample afterwards.
âWhat a farse,â a note of disdain coloured his tone as he coolly surveyed the crowds. The guests were getting drunk fast. As a result, the birthday party was getting rowdier than expected. People were shouting, insulting each other, laughing too loudly, or dropping like flies.
âThere goes another one,â he commented dispassionately as Charlotte fell to the floor. Cassius joined her soon after, though in his case, it was very much deliberate.
Peripherally, he noticed Farimâs fingers making headway in exploring Anastasiaâs abdomen. He still had to tell him about the Grand Vizierâs scheme, didnât he.
âShehzadi Nahir, how would you feel about relocating to a calmer venue? I cannot say this is the type of entertainment I am looking forâŚThough, I suppose if we are staying, we might as well wager on who is going to pass out or make a scene next. Duchess Victoria does seem worryingly close to bursting a blood vessel, does she not?â he noted. Unlike the concern implied by his words, he sounded bored, if anything. If this group of fools was going to cause a mess, he knew he might have to intervene. He never did easily suffer idiots who made things difficult for him.
Gideonâs attempt to continue his conversation with his daughter was interrupted when his son took to the stage for his performance. He watched with joy as Drake played to the crowd so elegantly, pride swelling up within him. However, as the performance concludedâŚthings would go awry.
His heart sank as he watched Drake stumble and fall, the laughter of the crowd cutting through the air like a dagger. Drake had been drinking, sure, but it was unlike him to reach such a level of inebriation. He felt the way the few cocktails he had enjoyed were affecting him and wondered what in the world was making them so damned strong.
His gaze shifted to Victoria, whose voice rang out across the garden with sharp, biting words directed at their son. The familiar disdain twisted in his stomach, made all the worse by the drink coursing through his veins, loosening his grip on his usual patience. This wasnât just a party; it was a showcase for Victoriaâs grandeur, and it seemed to come at the expense of their childrenâs dignity. Watching her berate Ariella just moments prior left him feeling disillusioned. How could she be so cruel to the very children she was supposed to nurture?
âStop making a scene,â he muttered under his breath, the words directed at no one in particular but laced with an urgency that dripped from his voice. He could feel the tension in the air, thick with laughter and mockery aimed at Victoria, and he knew this could spiral out of control. He had seen his wife wield her sharp tongue with reckless abandon, and surely the alcohol wasnât helping that matter⌠it was as if she had forgotten the very essence of mothering.
He caught a glimpse of Stratyaâs audacious heckle, the words ringing in his ears like a siren call. Gideon felt a flicker of approval mixed with incredulity; if anyone could draw the line against Victoriaâs reign of judgment, it would be the Knight Captain. But the laughter that erupted only added fuel to the fire, and he could sense the atmosphere shifting dangerously.
With a resolute breath, he made his way toward Victoria, trying to intercept her before the situation escalated further. He sidestepped the revelry of the crowd, feeling the collective energy swell and shift around him.
âVictoria,â he called gently, his voice firm yet coaxing. âWhy donât you come back and sit with Lily and I? Weâre all supposed to be celebrating together.â He placed a hand on her arm, a silent plea to draw her back from the precipice of confrontation. âToday is about our children, about Drake. Letâs not give him and Ariella any more reason to feel ashamed.â
He knew he was treading on thin ice, but as he looked into Victoriaâs eyes, he hoped she would see the sincerity in his own. âItâs not worth it. Weâre better than this.â The words felt hollow even as he spoke them, but Gideon clung to the belief that they could at least attempt to restore some semblance of decorum amid the chaos.
Victoria's eyes flared dangerously the moment Ariella opened her mouth, and any semblance of restraint snapped under the weight of the alcohol coursing through her veins. She tensely leaned in and began to whisper. "Oh, Ariella, darling," she spat, her tone dripping with venomous sarcasm, "since when did you become the expert on decorum? You can't even keep your shoes on for more than an hour. I can't imagine how much dirt is stuck under your nails." She laughed mockingly, her eyes flashing with fury as she took a step closer, her gaze burning through her daughter.
"Honestly," she continued, her tone scathing, "if you ever want to be anything in this society, youâll stop making a fool of yourself and start acting more like me. "
She let out an exasperated sigh, glaring down at her daughter before turning on her heel with a dramatic flourish, her head held high. "I donât have time for this nonsense."
Victoria's lips subsequently thinned as Drake tried to smooth over the situation with humor. He did a fine enough job, but she was too annoyed to properly award him. She found herself irked as he tried to claim he could hold his liquor after showing clearly that was not in fact the case to most of the nobility in the city. "Five scotches for breakfast?" she echoed, "You're kidding me, right? You better not become some smelly alcoholic." Her gaze flicked to the crowd, irritation barely concealed. "Fine, Iâll refrain from further yelling."
However, not everyone wanted to refrain from yelling. A female voice suddenly cut through the air, âTake off yerr shoes!â
Victoria froze mid-step, her head slowly turning back towards Stratya, her eyes wide with confusion. The confident demeanor cracked for just a moment, giving way to a bewildered expression.
"What did you just say?" she asked. It took her a few seconds to process the outburst, and for once, she was speechless. "Take off my shoes?" she repeated, almost incredulously, as if the very suggestion were the most ridiculous thing she'd ever heard."Who do you think you are?"
âShe wonât do it! It would be a crime Knight Captain! Victoria knows she has the stinkiest feet in the Kingdom! Trust me when I say it would be easier to bury your face in WEEK-OLD ROYAL CURD CHEESE left in the blistering heat than to be subjected to the hell of her removing her shoes!â
Her head whipped toward Lorenzo, her eyes blazing with fury. Her lips parted to speak, however, the least important prince spoke up with empty threats and even dared to jump on insulting her foot odor! He'd pay for that! They both would.
âVictoria,â Gideon's voice intercepted her raging mind, âWhy donât you come back and sit with Lily and I? Weâre all supposed to be celebrating together.â He placed a hand on her arm, âToday is about our children, about Drake. Letâs not give him and Ariella any more reason to feel ashamed. Itâs not worth it. Weâre better than this.â
Her lips curled into a tight, icy smile that didnât reach her eyes as Gideon spoke. Instead of replying, with all the elegance and poise of a practiced noblewoman, she lifted her glass, as if in a mock toast, her fingers tightening ever so slightly around the stem.
"Enjoy the party, Duke Vikena," she said softly, her voice carrying just enough edge for him to know the sentiment was anything but kind. As she lowered her glass, her eyes remained fixed on him. She didnât need to say anything moreâher look alone was enough to make it clear. Lorenzo had just made an enemy, and Victoria Edwards was not a woman who forgot or forgave easily.
With one last piercing stare that could cut through steel, she averted her gaze and addressed everyone, "For the record, I bathe daily and apply only the finest floral-scented lotions to my feet regularly. I receive pedicures every week from the best in the kingdom. If anyone doubts me, you're welcome to sniff my feet yourselves!" With a huff, retreated back to the table, her head held high.
Time: Late Morning Location: Damien Estate â Loverâs Lake Mention: Fritz/Ryn @JJ Doe, Calbert and Liliane Damien, Charlotte @princess, Roman @ReusableSword
The Damien Estate. Alexanderâs eyes lit up as he took in the view of the property from the small window of the carriage approaching the front gate. Though he had been here previously on the night of the masquerade party, seeing it now, revealed in the light of day, only added to its allure. To think the very element that unmasked the beauty of the Damien home was what he could only mildly tolerate, especially on clear-sky days like these. Still, there were tasks he needed to complete and ongoing operations that needed the occasional or even frequent stoking.
Scarlett. I continue to force our paths to cross. Alexander had not completely planned this visit, at least not this soon. Reviewing the objectives laid out during the Black Rose Company meeting brought forth a realization for him. Alexander actually found it a touch humorous. The two other men who knew Violetâs true nature were also considered enemies of her father. A grin spread across his lips as he thought of how entangled the threads of these relationships were becoming.
With the Black Rose Company embedded with the Damien family staff as an illusion of providing needed additional protection, the carriage was let into the property. Concurrently, word was being passed that Violet had a guest. The information passed from servant to servant until Violet heard a firm knocking on her bedroom door.
She had been in the midst of a rare moment of quiet, savoring the stillness of her room, when the knock on the door interrupted her thoughts.
âLady Damien, a Mr. Deacon is here to see you. He intends to escort you from the property to talk about⌠work.â The servant didnât even believe in the message she was conveying. âIf you prefer it, I can send him away.â She offered, assuming Alexander might be a bother to Violetâs desire for solitude.
The news of Alexander's visit caught her off guard, and her mind raced with the implications. She knew Alexander Deacon well enough to understand that his visit was never without purpose, especially given the intertwined web of alliances and enmities surrounding them.
She stood up slowly, smoothing out the fabric of her black morning dress as she considered the situation. The offer to send him away was tempting, but Violet knew better than to avoid Alexander. His presence on her family's estate, under the pretense of discussing "work," was a signal that something important needed to be discussed, but truthfully, she didnât want to pass up the opportunity to see him again. Strangely, through their conversations, she felt herself growing fond of Alexander.
"Thank you, but I'll see him, I am under his employment now, attempting to keep myself busy so he may make an appearance from time to time." Violet replied, her voice calm but firm. She dismissed the servant with a nod and a soft smile.
Violet took a moment to compose herself, her reflection in the mirror showing no trace of the unease she felt. The dark circles from the lack of sleep were evident, and despite her attempts, she couldnât seem to hide with makeup. Taking a deep sigh, she stood tall, attempting to pull herself together; she could be herself around Alexander; however, the presence of him at her home would likely have the household buzzing, and she wanted to avoid any unnecessary attention.
Finally making her way down the corridor, she headed down the large stairs; grabbing her thick black coat, she pulled her hair around her shoulders, adjusting it to sit comfortably. She turned back around to see many of the staff members waiting at the top of the staircase watching and whispering. She knew that before long, this would likely get back to her parents as well, which, after the conversation she just had with her mother, she hoped would go unnoticed.
Heading out to where the carriage had been pulled Violet opened the carriage doors. Her crimson eyes landed on Alexander as the bright hues from her red eyes seemed to glow under her hooded cape. With the help of his attendant Violet stepped into the carriage sitting across from him. It was a familiar feeling, one that brought her back to the night of the stables.
âShould I expect early morning calls after a night of drinking to be a regular occurrence?â her voice tinged with sass as it was clear Violet was certainly not a morning person. Alexander simply sighed as he held open a small, black, hard-covered book in his right hand.
âAs if youâre busy with something important.â His eyes remained affixed to the open page containing a list of thirteen names. A dozen nobodies and someone Violet might become deeply connected to. âWait! Before you tell me otherwise, I only jest.â He grinned as his eyes finally met hers. The carriage suddenly started moving but he kept his eyes on hers as if searching for something in them. âHow are you?â
Her red eyes narrowed in on his âAs if you care about the response to that question.â She sighed. âI sent a letter to Lord Fritz last night, I expect he will receive it this morning, and truthfullyâŚâ she paused taking a moment to catch a breath âI am still uncertain about the arrangement but I suppose we should see how the meeting goes.â She sat back against the carriage wall âI almost had my maid for breakfast this morning as well.â She sucked in her breath and held it for a moment before releasing it slowly. She took notice of the book in his hands with writing inside of it. âDoes that book have anything to do with why you decided to call on me so early?â
â...â Alexander parted his lips to speak but refrained, deciding to take another second to think about what Violet just shared with him. âThat and those eyes I admire so so much.â With little effort, Alexander tore the page of interest from the book. âI⌠missed you.â He shamelessly bit his lower lip as he shut the book and started to neatly fold the paper on his lap.
Blinking, her eyes widened slightly at his admittance to the reason for his visit. â..Iâm surprised,â she said truthfully as she watched him fold the paper on his lap. She wanted to trust the words he said to her but his life was coated in lies and secrets, ones she knew well and others she only imagined existed. Yet foolishly she couldnât help herself but to indulge in the fantasy of it all. She remained silent while he continued folding the paper, waiting for some kind of hint as to what exactly it was he wanted to speak on, it sure as hell wasn't for her company.
âAnd awareâŚâ he added before extending the folded paper to her with an outstretched hand. âAnd informed. Donât read the names aloud, please. Simply look and tell me how many more you recognize.â
Violet reached out and grabbed the paper from his hand. She carefully opened it up and took a moment to read all the names and double-check them before folding the paper up once again and extending it back. âNone,â she said simply before leaning back in the carriage. âWellâŚOther than Lord Fritz Hendrix but you know that.â Her eyes watched him as if trying to find some kind of clue for the question.
âGood⌠Actually, ânot too badâ may be a better reply,â Alexander said with a shrug before reaching and retrieving the paper back.
âTheyâre all marked for death byâŚâ He paused as he seemed to be saying too much. âWell, my people are still unsure, but I can assure you the threat is real enough for me to come to you so suddenly this morning. For that I do apologize, Scarlett.â
âMarked for death?â She studied his face as she thought. However, her initial reaction was not one people would normally have upon hearing that news. âThere are worse things in this world than death but ⌠what exactly did Lord Fritz do to wind up on that list?â
âI can't say, really. There are far too many reasons for wanting someone dead.â Alexander smoothly slipped the folded paper between the pages of the book from once it came. âWhatâs important to me is that your potential source of blood remains alive. And though I don't have much to go on, simply informing him of the plot may greatly aid him.â Alexander chuckled lightly. âItâs almost too perfect that you happen to be meeting with him soon⌠And poor Roman. Or perhaps, lucky Roman, hmm.â
âSo you want me to share this information? I might need more than just âyour name is on a death list.ââ She took in a breath.
âI don't want you to do anything, dear. I am providing you this information so that you may make your own decision regarding one of your lambs with it. If you can't convince Count Fritz with your word alone then it may be best to let him perish. There should be more trust between you two. Again, poor Roman.â
âI don't see how Roman has any factor in thisâŚâ she responded, confused by his concern for him.
âOh⌠Iâm sorry if I honed in on you not mentioning a meeting with Roman as well.â His tone was dripping with a false sense of concern. âHe must be your backup plan. I like that. Good thinking.â
Her face dropped as a shadowed expression glided across her face. âI haven't found the words to say to him yet.â She said softly, her red eyes glancing out the carriage window for a moment. The slight exposure of her neck from turning her head set a vicious and curious thought in the mind of Alexander. He leaned forward ever so slightly, feigning interest in her words though her flesh⌠her crimson nectar within was his focus. âI don't have backup plans. I have regrets, and as I said, I don't know about the situation with Lord Fritz. The idea scares me in truth. Maybe the idea of accidentally killing someone is easier to swallow when it's a stranger than a friend. I wouldn't put Roman in that position.â
How would it taste? Desirable? Disgusting? Warm? Or perhaps cold and refreshing. Her eyes moved back to look at him, unaware of what lay beneath his surface.
âIf that's how you decipher your relationships, then so be it, but don't include me in that.â She tugged at her cloak as she smoothed it out against her lap âI would like to say I can include you in that mix, a friend that is. That is why, regardless of your motives, I wouldn't toss your name to the wolves either.â
And if you did? Ohhh Scarlett⌠Cry monster and I'll show them one. A red-eyed bloodthirsty killer.
Violet shrugged her shoulders glancing down to her lap as her hands fiddled with a loose thread.
âRoman saw me before anyone else didâŚand you..you helped me in many ways that I'm not sure I can express properly. So no. Not a backup plan. More like a reason as to why I haven't taken you up on your offer.â The dark thread twisted around her pale finger.
âPrecious⌠You make this difficult, you know? To be in your presence, and remain⌠professional.â The thread around Violet's finger snapped as Alexander looked out the closest window, eyeing the passing trees. Her red orbs moved with ease to look at him.
Lover's Lake⌠Sly driver, you.
âI respect it, Scarlett. Sorry for assuming you were like everyone else. Selflessness is so rare these days, and that's why⌠why I think I can⌠No, I shouldn'tâŚâ He gulped, keeping his eyes off her and to the passing trees through the window.
Her eyes followed his to see the passing trees, unaware of where they were. Her eyes darted between him and the window.
âWhat is it?â She shrugged âYouâve helped me take a life, you helped me dump a body and listen to me rant about all sorts of useless things. At least allow me to offer the same if you want itâŚâ Her voice dropped to a deep tone at the end.
âSee. There you go again, Scarlett.â He faced her with a brief smile before his expression turned serious. âI-â His voice was but a whisper. He leaned toward her at first but then moved across the gap to seat himself right beside her. Violetâs heart skipped a beat from his sudden closeness to her. She instinctively pulled back slightly, her body tensing for a moment before relaxing. âIâve been holding backâŚâ He leaned in closer. âAbout the situation with Fritz⌠I apologize⌠There are things Iâm forbidden from saying, Scarlett. But I trust you. How could I not?â
âThe choice is yours and the offer stands. Perhaps you are right. I may be too selfless for my own good. HoweverâŚ.â she paused for a moment trying to read his face but getting nothing. âItâs just who I am, I suppose. I won't sit here and attempt to coerce you into anything.â She let off a toothy grin, her fang very apparent as it rested against her red-tinted lip. âNot that I believe I could coerce you into anything but I hope you understand my meaning.â
âOf course I understand⌠Yet, you seem to have this ability to make me want to do things I shouldn't.â A sigh of defeat escaped him as Violet attempted to hold back a cheeky grin. âI have more information on those planning to kill Fritz. Iâm not meant to divulge but no one needs to know⌠no one needs to know anything that happens between us.â
"No, you're right. They donât," she replied softly, her tone confirming his observation. "I have very little interest in divulging anything I do with my time. Unless you tell me otherwise, it will always stay between us." Her voice, once firm, softened into a sincere, almost intimate whisper as her words lingered in the air.
As she spoke, her shoulders eased, tension dissolving as she cocked her head ever so slightly to the side. Her crimson eyes, gleaming with a quiet intensity, remained fixed on him, studying every contour of his face. She searched, her gaze probing for the smallest crack in his expression, hoping for some sign of emotion, some hint of vulnerability. But still, he remained a perfect enigma, unreadable as ever. The silence between them stretched, thick and weighted with unspoken words, but she refused to look away.
âAlways?â Alexander's eyebrows raised slightly. âSo if weâŚâ And there it was. His toothy grin. â...in here⌠right now⌠Alexander leaned closer. His lips shut, hiding away his teeth.
Violet's crimson eyes flickered anxiously, darting from side to side as he leaned in. Her chest tightened, and for a fleeting moment, her breath caught, trapped in her throat. Every instinct urged her to pull away, but she remained still, rooted in place. Tension coiled through her body, yet she didnât flinch, her gaze locked on him.
âPrecious.â
And then Alexander withdrew.
âAhhh⌠I couldn't take advantage of my Scarlett like that. Not with how precious you are.â He snickered.
âYou would be so lucky.â She attempted to play it off cool as her voice dropped, leaning back against the carriage wall with a grin of her own.
Then the carriage stopped.
âFortune has never favored me, dear. Now come, there should be a spot with some shade beside the lake. Our tryst will have to wait.â Alexander opened the door of the carriage and offered a hand to help Violet out.
Releasing the breath she hadnât realized sheâd been holding, she exhaled softly and allowed a faint smile to curve her lips. With a graceful nod, she accepted his outstretched hand, letting him guide her out of the carriage. "Thank you,"
Once her feet touched the ground, she delicately adjusted her skirt and cloak, smoothing the fabric with practiced ease. Her fingers briefly lingered on the soft material before she straightened up, her gaze sweeping over their surroundings. The realization of where they had arrived struck her, and a flicker of amusement danced in her eyes.
"Interesting choice for a work meeting," she remarked.
âItâll allow us to speak freely without tiring the horses.â He briefly looked over at the pair of equestrians, acknowledging their strength and beauty. âI have a bit of a soft spot for them⌠That's why it's a shame what happened to that boy. We had that in common, he and I.â Alexanderâs expression became solemn as he thought of Darrynâs fate. He fiddled with the peculiar ring on his finger, tempted to remove it and the burden it carried.
She hadnât thought much of the stable boy, and even now, she didnât hold much remorse for him either. The concept startled her. Her lack of empathy towards those sheâs hurt seems to be disappearing as the days go on. "YesâŚvery sad indeed." Her voice lacked any sign of remorse. Pausing to look around, Violet noted how shaded the area was so early in the morning. "Shall we then?" she asked, attempting to pull him out of whatever remorse he was feeling.
âYes of course.â Alexander leaned up against a tree with a splendid view of the lake in front of him. âNo need to put a life lost ahead of one we mean to save. Especially when someone who's attracted the attention of the Bloody Thorns.â Alexander sighed. âTheyâre an organization of the most depraved criminals. Even more extreme than what you may believe I'm capable of.â Alexander shook his head trying to fathom such a thing himself.
âThey plan to⌠send for him during the night of the Drunkards Day celebrations. I don't know how they plan to end him but your friend should remain home that night with some form of protection. Offer yourself even. All he has to do is survive them long enough for them to realize he's not worth it.â
Silence swept over as she absorbed all the information he just shared. "A depraved criminal wouldnât waste their time on small fish so I suppose the question lies, what exactly would he have done to make them so upsetâŚ" She leaned up against the tree beside him watching birds land in the middle of the lake as the morning sun peeked through the treeline.
âA count? A small fish, is he?â He commented under his breath as he took in her point of view. She does live with one.
"I supposed I could help him, as you said but If these people are as dangerous as you seem to be implying then the likelihood of them adding me to a list is a possibilityâŚ" Her eyes glanced over to him for a moment before looking back towards the lake. "I could use that to my advantage. Use him for myself and offer help in returnâŚbut its alot to risk over someone I hardly know."
âYou speak as if you don't need him at all.â He shook his head at the awful predicament knowing his situation had been far from this complex from the start. âYour options become even more limited than they already are if he perishes. At the very least, inform him. The Bloody Thorns like to keep their intentions hidden, so much so that they won't make a second attempt at his life or kill someone not on the list.â
"I don't need him." she said pointedly "You act as him providing me with blood in the small amounts he could handle would set me on my merry way." She knew he would disagree with everything she had just said but something inside of her fired at that idea. He couldnât understand the sheer amount of torture she was under on a day-to-day basis, the need for blood so strong she was scared to let herself go. "I will speak with him and tell him what you think he should hear, I will even offer to be there when that day comes butâŚ" She took in a breath her red eyes once again moving to look at him for a moment. She decided it wasnât worth dragging him into her inner demons. "I will talk with him." She added, not going into what she wanted to say.
âItâs not just about blood. But⌠I guess that understanding comes with time,â he replied with a smile full of positivity as he kept his eyes on the scenery. âJust keep me out of whatever explanation you give him. If not for your unique connection to him, I'd allow events to proceed as normal.â
She turned her attention toward the lake, the surface shimmering under the pale light of the setting sun. A gentle breeze stirred the air, rustling through the trees, making their leaves dance in rhythm. The wind caught her dark hair, causing it to whip around her face like wild, unruly tendrils. With a frustrated sigh, she reached up, fingers brushing against her neck as she gathered the raven strands and pulled them over her left shoulder. She began to twist them absentmindedly around her fingers, trying in vain to tame the mess, but her hands fidgeted continuously, betraying the whirlwind of thoughts racing through her mind.
Her gaze remained fixed on the waterâs edge for a moment longer before she broke the silence, her voice tentative but edged with curiosity.
"What do you mean thereâs more than just a blood exchange?"
She turned her head slowly, her eyes searching his face for answers, an unspoken plea for clarity.
"My mother was supposed to give me the books she found on this... change," she confessed, the words tumbling from her lips with a mix of frustration and self-consciousness. "But I havenât read them yet." Her voice lowered, the vulnerability in her tone making her feel exposed, like a student admitting they hadnât done their homework.
She had spent so much time trying to understand herself, but in this moment, she felt lost, standing on the edge, waiting for someone to help her make sense of it all. Alexander stood by her side, seemingly with all the answers. He would surely lead her to some semblance of peaceâŚright? To be lost and alone, to be so vulnerable attracts the empathetic and the charitable. HoweverâŚ
âWell⌠naturally you form a special bond. A special relationship. It seems silly, I know, but⌠it's everything.â He turned to face Violet, wearing a hint of a grin. âTo mutually trust each other with your livesâŚâ He took half a step toward her. âWilling to embrace so intimately, even passionatelyâŚâ With another step he eyed the little space between them now. âTo know it will all end terribly, yet still you both remainâŚâ His hands rested on her sides. âFamiliar, isn't it?â
Her breath caught, a sharp inhale she couldn't suppress, as the gap between them vanished. Her pulse quickened, a mix of apprehension and anticipation twisting in her chest. The only person she would have felt comfortable this close to was Roman, not Lord Fritz.
His words confirmed the unspoken fear she'd been harboring, the sinking realization that aligning herself with Lord Fritz would bind her in ways she wasn't ready for. Yet, as his hands settled on her sides, steady and deliberate, her thoughts fractured, tugged away from her dread. Her crimson eyes flicked down to where his fingers lightly touched her sides, then lifted slowly, locking onto his gaze with a silent question trembling beneath the surface.
Her eyes widened slightly, his words confirming what she was curious about. "Love?" she repeated as if to somehow convince herself of the word. "SoâŚIf I âŚif he and IâŚThen Iâll love him? Just like that?" Her eyes were wide as a doeâs as she searched his face for answers. "Does it only work on those who are afflicted?...does it work the same way if you were to feed on me?" the words left before she could even think of the implications of the question. It brought forth a brief chuckle from him before he took another moment to admire her naivety.
âMe feed on you?â He almost seemed to be asking himself the question, his curiosity piqued with wanting to know what benefits or consequences he might face in indulging it. Luckily he wore his ring, or he might have thrown all sense to the wayside.
âScarlett, no one is going to fall in love at first bite,â he said lightly smiling to himself. âI may have gotten carried away but⌠if you continue to feed on the same willing person for long enough, there can only be love. It can be romantic, familial, platonic, or even fantastical. That and the blood bond but that's the ugly part of things.â
Her shoulders relaxed at his words but she was curious about the blood bond. "What is the blood bond?" She asked, unsure if she wanted the answer or not, but it felt important to be educated if she was going to do this.
âThe blood bond, it'sâŚâ Alexander thought about explaining it from an unbiased point of view. âBesides becoming a tad bit possessive, you can tell how the person youâve fed on is feeling and if they're close by. With a little magicae, you can grant them an invisible form of protection to safeguard them.â Alexander let loose a sigh and released Violet as he thought about his recent run-in with such a safeguard. Another vampire with as much or more experience than himself did not sit well with Alexander.
"OhâŚ" her voice dropped as the idea didnât help her but instead made the fears worse.
âThink of it as a consolation for possibly damning someone else.â He couldn't help himself not to say that. âPerhaps we could both damn each other.â With a gentle hand he tilted her chin upward to get a good look at her neck. âIf that were a possibilityâŚâ Her chin moved with ease as he inspected her neck, her crimson eyes fixated on him as she could see the curiosity in them.
"...Try it." she said without much thought but she too was curious about it. "Show me what I need to do..."
She didnât believe he would, but her curiosity was strong. At least, if anything, she would know what to do with Fritz if it ever came to that.
âShow you what to do?â Alexander raised an eyebrow with an amused grin as he leaned toward her exposed neck, Violet's cheeks turned slightly pink from the embarrassment of her suggestion. âIâm sorry but it's just something that happens. It can't be taught, only experienced,â he whispered, caressing Violetâs neck with his hand. âTake my handâŚâ He offered his free hand to her.
She looked down at his free hand, confused; she didnât feel like she understood the bonds or exchange of blood or anything. She would need to find the books that her mother mentioned, maybe she could find more answers there. With all of her confusion, she accepted his hand as her slender pale fingers slipped into his. His grip was easy at first but then squeezed firmly.
âNow, brace.â he ordered. Shutting her eyes she felt her body tense up as she anticipated what his next move was. Her chest rose with air as she held her breath as the muscles in her neck and shoulders contracted slightly with tension. All of that only to simply feel a prick upon the tip of her thumb and the feeling of Alexander's tongue licking at the small puncture he had made. She opened one eye, the crimson orb falling on his lips around her finger as the tension in her shoulder relaxed. âHm.â His eyes narrowed before removing Violet's thumb from his mouth to take a look at the blood that was visibly dripping from it and onto the natural ground.
"What?... Is there something wrong with me?" She looked at him, her eyes widened with concern then down to her bleeding finger.
âNot sure,â He answered casually with a shrug and a frown. âNever had the opportunity to drink the blood of someone like myselfâŚâ He shook his head with disgust before letting loose a hearty chuckle. âAnd would not recommend, ever. It is⌠it is absolutely vile! Especially compared to the usual. I mean that⌠that was an unpleasant surprise.â Despite the result, Alexander was in a seemingly good mood. More in awe with how terrible the taste was. âEh, part of the curse I guess. There are rarely shortcuts when it comes to magic.â Violet looked down at her finger with a frown, the wound had already closed by the time she took note of it.
"I guess on the positive side, I don't need to worry about you attempting to make me your next snack." She laughed at the idea. âI wouldnât imagine the blood of rats to taste very good either.â Her body relaxed back against the large tree that shaded them. âIâm surprised you havenât tried before, but then again I'm not familiar with how common our kind is. I would imagine not that common.
âCorrect butâŚâ Alexander walked over and leaned against a vacant spot beside her on the tree. âI think âexceptionally rareâ is a better descriptor. Magic is practiced in secrecy and knowledge of this curse is not easily obtained. Add the fact that conditions of this affliction are meant to be kept secret, and you will find it near impossible to discover a handful in a lifetime yetâŚâ He chuckled. âIn my short time in Sorian, I've discovered two with no relation to each other. Heh. The capital sure is interesting. Gave me my first taste of vampire blood, from Scarlett no less.â A chuckle erupted from Violet as she used a hand to steady herself against the tree from falling over. âYes, the most vile experience thanks to yours truly. I am delighted to have offered you that.â
âAs am I.â Alexander smiled along with her. âIt may not have tasted good, but you've provided me with something invaluable. An answer to a question that might have bothered me for quite a time. Care to answer another?â He leaned toward her. âI can, maybe this one will be less disappointingâŚâ She leaned in towards him âWhat is this mysterious question?â
âHmm, dear, Iâm afraid Iâm torn between two.â He obviously feigned an exasperated sigh, all while wearing a playful grin. âI guess I can let you choose how we proceed. To make it fun. So, Scarlett⌠would you like me to ask about your closest neighbor or worst enemy? You can only pick one.â
She let out a long sigh as she thought for a moment. âI could answer bothâŚâ she said looked at him. âWorst enemy,â she paused whilst Alexander reacted with a raised eyebrow. âIf I had to pick one.â
âI seeâŚâ Alexander nodded his head as he took note of her choice. âWhat do you want to do to the person who put you on the brink of death? The one who played such a major role in making you what you are now.â
The laughter faded from her eyes, replaced by a softness that seemed almost distant. Her mind went blank as her gaze drifted to the lake before her. She watched the birds, which had been circling the treeline, finally descend into the water, causing ripples to fan out and expand against the current. The gentle movement of the water seemed to mirror her thoughts as she spoke softly. "When I was a child..." Her voice carried the weight of distant memories. "My parents used to let Crystal and me run around the yard. It felt enormous back then, like a vast wilderness waiting to be explored." A faint smile touched her lips as she recalled the laughter shared with her sister.
"Dusk had settled, and I was the only one left outside. My parents didnât mindâthey could see me from the large sitting room window. But I had wandered too far, right to the edge of the property." She inhaled sharply, her hand unconsciously drifting to her neck and upper chest, where old scars still lingered beneath her skin. "A man had been sitting just beyond the treeline, watching us all day, I assume. When I got close enough... well..." Her fingers brushed over the hidden marks on her neck, and her voice grew quieter. "I nearly died that day. The doctors managed to save me, but the wound left an awful scar. For so long, I carried it with shame."
She glanced down at the lake, watching the ripples dance on the surface. "It later came to light that it had something to do with my fatherâsome deal he had been involved in. He made the wrong people angry, and they decided to send a message." Her eyes darkened, and her breath caught in her throat. âCrystal and I were never left outside again.â
With a sigh, she pressed her lips together, her expression unreadable as she tried to hide the emotions that threatened to spill over.
"That's why I was always so pale as a child. Funny how I was cursed to avoid the sun once again," she said, referring to the affliction they both shared. Her lips curled into a bitter smile. "I wore neck-high gowns, covering my scar out of shameânot for my father, but because I felt unmarriable. Worthless." Marriage had always been a concern of her fathers, she wasnât sure if it was to get rid of them out of his home faster or to strengthen some political ties. Her voice dropped quieter now. "My sister had suitors lined up, but for me, that was never in the cards. So I kept my head down, stayed in the shadows, hoping that if I did, nothing like that would happen again."
Her red eyes flicked toward him, searching to see if he was still listening, before turning back to the water. "But it didnât last long. All I remember was leaving the ball, and then... darkness." Her voice grew hollow as she continued. "Now, I have a scar I cannot hide, no matter how hard I try. I've become nothing more than a tattered, sewn-up shell of a person who feeds on others just to survive. I thought my father would have learned from the first time, but I suppose not."
Her hand moved from her chest down to her side, fingers clasping together as if seeking comfort. "I donât know for sure if my father was involved this time, but I wouldnât be surprised. History tends to repeat itself." She trailed off, staring at the lake as if the calm water could somehow soothe the turmoil inside her. âMy mother told me I died. That for a day, I was gone until someone performed something on me that brought me back. However, I had been gone for so long that my body was in a questionable state. I had to stay under care until I could walk again; even then, it wasnât by much luck. It wasnât until I started feeding as much as I did that I started to feel better.â
She took a deep breath âTo answer your question, I blame my father for it. For not learning the first time⌠putting me and the rest of my family at risk. I blame my mother for bringing me back and cursing me with this disfigured corpse of a body I have to now live with and ⌠I⌠feel nothing towards the one who did it.â she said honestly as she looked over at him âI want to find out whyâŚfind out if it was because of my father or something else and go from there but Iâve held so much anger and resentment for my parents I don't think Iâve given myself time to think about anyone else.â She adjusted herself against the tree. âIâm sorry you didnât ask for a life story but I just felt the context to be important.â Alexander furrowed his brow and shook his head, denying her apology.
âDonât ever apologize for expressing yourself to me. Remember, Iâm someone that you can just talk to without feeling judged. Besides, it's good to know that I can provide you with the truth of that night. A sad truth but one you need to accept. Perhaps you'll even change your mind on whose to blame.â Alexander walked forward, leaving the tree behind so that he could face Violet squarely.
âReady?â
With hesitation, Violet nodded softly.
âFirst, I would like to inform you that your death was not an act of retaliation toward your father or your family. In fact, the killer wasn't even targeting you. Why would they? Think about all that you have just told me. If someone wished to deeply wound your fatherâs spirit, wouldn't the perpetrator choose Crystal?â He let that sink in for a short moment before he continued.
His words hit her like a wave as she braced herself against the tree. Her mind spiraled. He was right in that fact Crystal had always been their prize, and when she fell ill, it turned the whole household upside down. For years, it felt like they mourned her ⌠or what they lost due to her illness.
Regardless of what her parents had tried to say Violet never held that hope for them, that left so early on in her life.
âThe true target of the killer was someone who was very suddenly shoved into the spotlight. Not the best light, of course, but her fatherâs actions ensured their names would be burnt into the thoughts of all who attended the ball that night. A young woman, the daughter of a public official, alabaster skin, raven hair.â Alexander admired such features on Violet. âPerhaps your resemblance is why that person settled with choosing you that night. Who they truly desired to murder was none other than Charlotte Vikena.â Alexander averted his gaze from hers. The truth of it all did not appear to be easy to deliver, yet he persisted with his intimate details of her murdererâs plan.
Her knees buckled as her red eyes widened with surprise.
Charlotte!?...
âAnd to think that Duke Lorenzo's strange disappearance that night was what made Charlotte too difficult to isolate. She was abandoned, sure but she was seen later with your father, then Count Fritz, then later at the Tough Tavern⌠The irony. So, the killer became desperate, so much so that just seeing you walk streets alone drew him to you to be the replacement for his scheme.â Alexander began to pace. âYou see, they wanted nothing but to throw Sorian into chaos, and they just might have if they had been a little more patient. Imagine it. The royal family of the Alidasht would have been prime suspects with Duke Vikena unable to fathom their innocence in his spiraling after losing another woman in his life. He wouldn't be the only one to point the finger at the kingdomâs rivals either, further escalating their underlying tension. What would follow is still a mystery, since his plan failed the moment he chose you. Not only would your death not stir enough controversy due to your reclusiveness but you didn't even stay dead. No one knew that you died. To the public, it was as if nothing ever occurred. The only forms of proof are that scar you're forced to wear so openly, your affliction, and the man responsible locked away in a dreary dungeon in the company of a good friend of mine.â Alexander shrugged nonchalantly while thinking of Mistress Valeria Thorncroft. âSo⌠do you still feel nothing for him? Or would you like retribution?â
Her eyes stared blankly into the distance, the world around her splintering like shattered glass as her body became a statue of dread. An unsettling presence stirred within her, a shadow long buried, clawing to escape the confines of her mind. Twice now, she had been chosen as a mere substitute, a pawn in a cruel game. First, it was Crystal during that horrific day so long ago, and now, it was Charlotteâs intended death! The pain and confusion loomed ominously over her like a storm cloud ready to unleash its fury.
Anger simmered beneath her skin, a volatile fire threatening to consume her as her thoughts spiraled into the abyss, where darkness thrived. Yet she fought to contain it, to keep the demons at bay.
Clearing her throat, she pulled herself away from the tree. Her crimson eyes fixed on him, an unsettling darkness creeping into their depths, a silent promise of the chaos brewing just beneath the surface. At the same time, Alexander refused to meet her gaze.
âWhat is his name?â her words dripping with venom. Her tone seemed to force him to steal a glance at her.
âThat⌠I'm afraid that is something I don't have the privilege of telling you. Though I can say thisâŚâ
Violet's breathing quickened, each gasp drawing in sharp, frantic breaths as her heart raced like a trapped animal. She braced herself against the tree, its gnarled bark a cold comfort against her trembling frame. Desperation clawed at her throat as she fumbled with the corset wrapped tightly around her waist, her hands shaking violently as she fought to loosen its cruel grip. Desperately seeking air.
With a sudden surge of will and panic, she tore it open, the fabric falling to the ground like scraps. Still drenched in panic, she unlaced her cloak, watching it crumple into a lifeless heap beside her corset. Turning her back to Alexander, she felt exposed and vulnerable, clad only in her black gown, the fabric a stark contrast to the darkness closing in around her. The feelings of anger, destruction, and need flooded her.
With each hurried step away from him attempting to gain distance from Alexander, her hand clutched her chest while the other grabbed onto the trees that passed her as she pushed herself away from them. A futile attempt to steady herself. Her legs buckled beneath her, surrendering to the panic. The world around her felt like a tightening noose, the encroaching darkness threatening to swallow her whole.
Hunched over on the ground, she slammed her fist into the earth, each blow echoing her torment as she punched a hole into the soil. Her nails dug deep into the ground, anchoring her to something real as she struggled against the tide of despair.
Her head tossed back, her raven hair cascading over her pale skin like a dark waterfall, and her red eyes lifted to the treetops, searching for solace in the sky. She took one long breath when A deep, guttural growl erupted from her chest, a primal sound that morphed into a broken cryâa release of weeks' worth of pressure, frustrations, and an unbearable sense of loss.
Her body crumpled down into a child's pose as her body caught its breath, her chest rising and falling as she felt the tears begin to sweep in her eyes. Her entire life had been destroyed because of others.
ââŚThink about all that you have just told me. If someone wished to deeply wound your fatherâs spirit, wouldn't they choose Crystal?â ââŚyou to be the replacement for his scheme.â
She was always the replacement.
Alexander stood over Violetâs pitiful display, his hands now bare with his cold gaze piercing through her. It was a sad sight to behold but there would be not an ounce of sympathy from him now.
â...Your worst enemy, Scarlett. The one who hurt you so⌠they are within reach of the crown.â Alexander whispered.
Her head peeked up as a tear rolled down her cheek. Her glassy red eyes shone against the morning rays. She didnât make eye contact with him. The darkness had consumed her, her mind held only one thought. Death. â...I will kill himâ she whispered back to him in response âI WILL KILL HIM!â She shouted at the top of her lungs, her fist slammed down on the ground again, birds taking flight from the sudden shock of her loud voice. Darkness had swallowed her, she wasnât sure there was any coming back from it now.
She refused to be anyone else's replacement, second choice, or victim. The world had forced her to be the monster.
Time: 10am Location: Drakes Birthday Party Mention: Interactions:@RodiakMathias Appearance: No shoes | Blue summer gown with butterflies embroidered on gown
Ariella huffed away from her brother, her motherâs words stinging like nettles as she stormed off. Another servant, fully aware of her rising irritation, smirked and glided over with a tray, offering her a cocktail like it was a peace treaty in a glass.
Stopping mid-rant, Ariella eyed the drink, took in a deep, calming breath, and snatched it up with surprising enthusiasm. The servant wisely backed away, clearly not wanting to witness the aftermath of a woman on the verge of a meltdown. Cocktail in hand, Ariella resumed her dramatic exit, muttering to herself about how she *really* wasnât cut out for these events.
She couldnât fathom how she shared DNA with her motherâsurely some mistake had been made at birth? And poor Drakeâhis birthday bash had gone from ârespectableâ to âdownright awkwardâ thanks to their motherâs insufferable lack of decorum. At least her father was the eye of the hurricane, calm and collected amidst the family chaos.
Taking a sip of her cocktail Ariella scanned the crowd. A few guests were rolling around in the grass which she envied, others were clustered around tables sharing drinks, while a giggly mob gossiped louder than the string quartet playing in the corner.
Her gaze zeroed in on someone newâa young man looking distinctly uncomfortable as an elderly woman bore down on him like a hawk on a mouse. Ariellaâs eyes widened at the sight of the manâs mustache. It wasnât just bad it was terrible.
That poor man, she thought, amused. The fear on his face wasnât exactly subtle. Smirking, Ariella decided to rescue him. Cocktail in hand, she practically skipped toward them, eager to intervene just as the elderly woman came dangerously close to spilling her drink on the unfortunate gentlemanâs pristine suit.
âGood evening!â Ariella chirped even though it was still morning, throwing a curveball into the awkward situation, and adding another layer of possible discomfort. âI donât believe weâve met! Iâm AriâuhâLady Ariella Edwards.â She winced internally at the title but soldiered on. âHave you tried these drinks? Theyâre amazing!â She held up her glass before realizing it was, yet again, empty.
Mid-rant, she stumbled to the left, narrowly avoiding a full-body collision with Lord Wimsley. Grabbing onto his arm for dear life, she erupted in laughter. âOh my, I think I tripped over my shoes!â she said, wobbling but somehow still standing. Peering down at her feet she laughed again âOh wait, I'm not wearing anyâŚâ as she attempted to straighten herself back up. âDreadful things they are⌠Donât you agree?â she said looking at the two of them her eyes darting between them as her cheeks flushed pink from all the alcohol she had consumed.
Her voice dropped to a dramatic whisper as she leaned in, cupping her hand around her mouth like she was about to spill the kingdom's juiciest secret. "My mother wears themâsome truly uncomfortable ones, too... I think that's why she's so mean." She gave a solemn nod as if this revelation explained everything.
Leaning back with a self-satisfied grin, Ariella beamed as if she'd just solved world hunger. She even gave a little nod, as though waiting for the crowd to break into applause for her sheer brilliance.
Time: Morning Location: Edward's Estate Interaction:@princess@Helo@PapaOso Cassius, Callum, Charlotte Mention:
Charlotte with her charm had for a moment, taken Lorenzo away from the goings on of the stage. He couldn't help but admire her in such a carefree state as he she held onto him.
âSheâs got⌠cheesy toes!â Lorenzo chuckled. It would be his last during this outing.
âThe cheesiest.â He added before watching her stumble. He took a step forward to aid her but stopped the moment she erupted into laughter. He smiled, sharing her happiness before his eyes drew to the stage.
Lorenzo thought he'd be staring into the eyes of a hateful enemy. One he could glare at with nothing but enmity. He stood strong as they locked but⌠something was off. Something wasâŚ
Disgusting. Completely and utterly disgusting. The idea of it- No he could see it here and now. Lorenzo mentally cursed the image slowly cementing into his psyche. Now, he was silent, paralyzed with regret. The man could only wish he hadn't attended this party today. He wished he was blind. Temporary or permanent, it mattered not to him. All he desired was to unsee the abomination set before him.
Which god dared do this? Which god yearned to birth such enmity and aversion into the core of his being? Into his soul? What had he done to deserve this? Lorenzo was no saint but even if he was a shameless debaucherous scoundrel, he would not deserve this⌠this thing. It would be perfectly fine for someone else but for Lorenzo, this was no different than serving him a stack of syrup-glazed pancakes for lunch. A late lunch at that! One that could never be mistaken for the flexible meal-time known as âbrunch.â Blasphemy! Perhaps it was exactly that. Some foul demonic entity was preying upon his peace and sanity. Poking at him with a bloody dung-covered spearhead, cackling as it did so. He only wished it had aimed for his eyes first.
Blindness. Was it the remedy? Or was it the goal? To remove the very sight from his senses could not save him as much as he wished it could have. What of his mind? His soul? Stricken and assaulted so viciously that he might not recover. Perhaps if he continued drinking, he could forget. That⌠that would be the remedy, yet also a gamble. What if he remembered despite putting himself in a terrible stupor? What if in that stupor, he entertained this thing that deserved to be wholly rejected? What if he accepted it?
Disgusting. Completely and utterly disgustingâŚ.
Dutchess Victoriaâs head whipped toward Lorenzo, her eyes appeared to be filled with burning passion. A passion Lorenzo was no stranger to, as he could recall the same look Mayet had given him when he attended dinner with the Alidasht royal family. Her lips parted as if she was going to speak, however, her attention was drawn elsewhere. Lorenzo was bewildered by this advance coming from someone he was never fond of. As abusive as Emina was to him, Victoria seemed to somehow supercharge Eminaâs willingness to commit harm to him. All the two women needed was a single afternoon outing and his wife would return to him in an intolerant and nigh hateful mood.
So why? Why was Victoria looking at him in this way? Was this her method of enacting retribution? Or had she been flattered by the insult to her foul-smelling feet?
Does she like that sort of thing ⌠please no. Pleeeeease no.
Maybe⌠Maybe it was all in his head. Gideon, her husband, had approached her to take control of the situation. Lorenzo thought him to be a masterful mediator while he appeared to have some kind of magical power to subdue the hellish fiend of woman. As Gideon laid a hand on her, Lorenzo felt it safe to look away but something kept him. She kept him.
What now? A threat? An insult?
Her lips curled into a tight, challenging smile. A daring smile that one flashed when faced with an on-par obstacle. Even with her beloved husband at her side, she dared try to tempt Lorenzo. The betrayal! Her eyes were locked on him, requiring him to use every ounce of his being to keep from dry heaving. Lorenzo would remain strong in the face of such adversity but could doing so only encourage her? With all the elegance and poise of a practiced noblewoman, Victoria lifted her glass, as if in a mock toast, her fingers tightening ever so slightly around the stem. Lorenzo could only gulp knowing there was no doubt anymore. This⌠this was real. This was true. He had mistakenly opened the gates of hell and now there was a horrid demon claiming him with lustful intentions.
"Enjoy the party, Duke Vikena," she said softly, her voice carrying just enough edge for him to know what she desired from him if it wasn't already obvious. As she lowered her glass, her eyes remained fixed on him. She didnât need to say anything moreâher look alone was enough to make it clear. It was an invitation. A depraved invitation. Lorenzo could do nothing as he dared not embarrass Gideon in such a way. Falsely claiming his wife had smelly feet was a small thing but this⌠This was alarming. How could he tell Gideon his wife's intentions? What if Gideon was in on the whole thing? No⌠he had his peculiarities but Gideon Edwards was not that kind of man. Lorenzo had just created a temptress he did not desire in the slightest, and he was well aware Victoria Edwards was not a woman who forgot about the things her eyes desired. It's why she had nearly everything she wanted at the end of the day.
With one last piercing stare that could cut through steel, she averted her gaze and addressed everyone, or that's how Victoria made it appear. Despite not looking his way, she still addressed him⌠secretly yet in the open, she continued to speak to him.
"For the record, I bathe daily and apply only the finest floral-scented lotions to my feet regularly. I receive pedicures every week from the best in the kingdom. If anyone doubts me, you're welcome to sniff my feet yourselves!"
An invitation. Just as he thought.
Lorenzo took a seat, again cast into despair, knowing Victoria was unrelenting. She would force him to smell her feet now, and there would be no end to her attempts until he gave in. To think the woman had a foot fetish, and he unknowingly stepped into the web of her kink. Grabbing another glass, he could do nothing but embrace it. Embrace it so he could forget this if he was lucky. As he drank half the glass, he noticed Charlotte and Cassius lying beside each other in the grass below. He was glad to see her happy but was unsure what to think of Calbert's son. He had been so nasty to him, yet seemed fixated on Charlotte.
âWhy are they still on the grass⌠oh, they're drunk⌠like me⌠oh,â Lorenzo mumbled. âLottie⌠please darling, get up⌠There's⌠there's feet down there, Lottie. So many feet⌠ugh⌠I have to give Lord Drake his giftsâŚ. I have to do it⌠do it before the dutchess finds a way to corner me.â He mumbled barely intelligibly. âLottie⌠get up from there. The king ferretâŚ. Lorenzo Vikena, the ferret⌠the ferret king of the Furonian Kingdom demand⌠it.â Lorenzo sighed in defeat, resting the whole weight of his face on his propped hand mumbling to Charlotte as the Ferret King Lorenzo Vikena of the Furonian Kingdom about getting up from the grass to avoid being attacked by feet.
Time:10am Location: Edwards Estate - Drake's Party Attire: Dress, Amulet Interaction: @PapaOso Cassius @FunnyGuy Lorenzo As Charlotteâs giggles faded into the air, her gaze lingered on Cassius, lying so close beside her, bathed in the sunlight. It was the first time she had truly seen him like thisâso at ease, so unguarded. Her eyes hovered over his face and she smiled, though it did fade ever so slightly as the moment went on. The sunlight striking him also highlighted the scars that marred his skin... Highlighted the evidence of a man who once spent his life fighting for coin, wandering from one battle to the next.
Her mind had begun to wander to that age-old question: Who is Cassius really? But then, his words caught her off guard in a way she hadn't expected. âIâm all in, Princess.â That teasing grin was there, but the words carried more weight than the casual banter he always threw around. He meant it.
âOh, I know exactly what weâre doing,â she replied after a brief pause, her voice lilting with playful sarcasm as she met the gaze of those gray eyes of his, âWeâre making a grand spectacle of ourselves, thatâs what. And you, my dear Cassius, are doing a remarkable job at it.â
Leaning in slightly, her voice softened as she told him, âIf youâre all in, then so am I.â She smiled softly, letting herself sink deeper into the grass, feeling the cool earth beneath her. It was grounding, despite her intoxication. With a contented sigh, her gaze drifted upwards, following the lazy path of the clouds overhead.
âYou knowâŚâ she mused, her tone light but carrying a deeper undertone, âThis might be the most fun Iâve had in a long time.â
As the words slipped from her lips, she found herself reflecting on the absurdity of the situation. Here she was, lying in the grass, shoes kicked off, laughing and teasing without a care for how it lookedâhow improper it might seem. She could almost hear her motherâs voice in her mind, stern and exasperated, berating her for all those wasted hours in finishing school. All those lessons on grace and decorum... and for what? To roll in the grass like some unruly child?
But none of it seemed to matter anymore.
People change after losing a parent. That was an obvious fact, and her mother had been the second time she had lost one. The girl she had been a year ago seemed like a distant memory, and even now, so did who she had been simply days ago. No matter what the gossip columns or Duchess Victoria might say, the power to define her own life was now in herself. She knew what she wanted to do with it too, but in the meantime, all she wanted to do was just enjoy the moment.
Her head turned back toward him slowly, her smile even more genuine as she reached out to take his hand tenderly, â...And Iâm glad itâs with you.â
âLottie⌠please darling, get up⌠" Barely coherent mumbling reached her ears, breaking the peace of the moment. A pang of concern tugged at her as she pushed herself up slightly, propping herself on her elbows. âThere's⌠there's feet down there, Lottie. So many feet⌠ugh⌠I have to give Lord Drake his giftsâŚ. I have to do it⌠do it before the duchess finds a way to corner me...Lottie⌠get up from there. The king ferretâŚ. Lorenzo Vikena, the ferret⌠the ferret king of the Furonian Kingdom demand⌠it.â
Her lips twitched upward at first, the absurdity of Lorenzoâs words sparking an amused giggle deep in her chest. But as her tipsy gaze slid back to her father, the smile on her face began to falter. His posture was all wrongâdefeated, slumped, as if some weight far heavier than the drinks was bearing down on him. She exchanged a quick glance with Cassius before returning her gaze to Lorenzo.
âPapa?â she blurted out, the word slipping from her lips. It felt strange calling him that, as if the word did not belong to him truly, and she wasn't sure why she had said it at all. She clumsily pushed herself up to her feet, wobbling for a moment before gripping the back of a chair to steady herself. âAre you quite alright?â
Her eyes widened in sudden resolve as she dramatically declared, âAlright, that does it. Weâve all had enough to drink. Alcohol is now banned from this table!â Subsequently, Charlotte stepped closer to Lorenzo and put a hand on his shoulder.
âNo need to worry, Lorenzo, for I shall help you present your gifts to Drake... Where are they?" She looked over at Cassius and then smiled as an idea dawned on her, âOh! Cassius can help too if you have a lot." She beamed as she assured Lorenzo, "You're always... so thoughtful with your gifts! Lord Edwards will adore them."
At Penelope's Pudding Palace, the morning sun spills through large windows, casting a warm glow over the vibrant interior. The air is permeated by the sweet scent of pudding, from classic vanilla and rich chocolate to fruity flavors like mango or banana. The grand circular counter at the heart of the shop showcases these delightful puddings, inviting patrons to indulge in a taste. The room is bustling as families, couples, and pudding enthusiasts of all ages marvel at the puddings.
All was peaceful until the doors suddenly swung open and a loud bang echoed through the establishment. A blonde haired, multi-color-eyed, raggedy looking woman entered from the doorway, making no aim to consider her surroundings as the door slammed against the wall from sheer force. With eyes wide open, the young woman studied the place from just beyond the entrance. Was such observation out of pure delight? Or was it more that of discontentment? The answer to that would soon be apparent as the blonde inched toward the front counter, eyeing the menu brightly lit by a peering sun.
The young ladyâs forceful entry was certain to get attention with shocked gasps and the likes. Had the cafe been peaceful? The slightly irritated expressions on several patrons seemed to say otherwise, nor was the place exactly quiet. Very much the opposite, as sounds of clothes ruffling could soon be heard following an audible sipping once the abrupt commotion died down.
The source of such seeming irritant currently sat at the center table, a most obnoxiously impossible-to-miss fanciful dressed gentleman.
A suit that instantly caught the eyes with fronds and frill for days and a colorful-feathery tower bouncing atop the equally tall hat. He sat with jovial delight with a dazzling grin to match, the gloriously trimmed mustache aiding in obscuring the grinâs brightness, a tickling sniffle of the nose.
Clutched in his right gloved hand, the source of the cutting sound, a fresh cup of hot cocoa sporting a mountain of scream drizzled with chocolate. A white stache dabbing the mustache as it pulled from the dapper gentlemanâs lip with a satisfied âahhââ Delightful! Such enthusiasm for pudding is deserving of a treat.â A snap of the fingers.â A bowl for the boisterous lady!â He bellowed out then took a sip; wiggling his mustache purposefully at Ruby in hopes of her catching on.
Ruby continued to stagger forward in a daze. It appeared that a sense of hunger and a particular craving filled her mind at the moment. After not seeing the desired entree on the menu, she mouthed audibly, âI need to get some beef right now.â There must have been someone in this palace with a slab of beef on their plate. She scanned the room full of people, starting at their plates before making her way up to their faces.
He sat, observingly; a long sip of his cup of hot cocoa sporting a mountain of cream coated in chocolate and cinnamon powder. He was curious and worried as he saw the all too famiiar zombie-hunger walk in Rubyâs current mannerisms.
Everyone seemed to be overdressed for the occasion compared to Ruby. One outfit in particular caught her attention as she peered from table to âstache. The man was wearing a most vibrant suit, that which Ruby thought fit for a king. It took a few moments before she realized that underneath the cream-covered mustache, feathery top hat, and bountiful sleeves, was a wild Kazumin.
âKazu!!!!â she yelped. She was used to his unique style, but this could be considered flashy even for Kazumin. A small droplet of sweat dripped from her forehead as she studied his ensemble. Ruby was not expecting such an exciting start to her morning, although itâs hard to say whether her perspiration was a result of adrenaline or perhaps last nightâs mini-bender catching up to her.
Her Recognition earned her a big wiggling of the nose, making the big bowtie to almost wave from the rustling in response. â Salutations, dear Ruby!â He called out with a small toast of his hot cocoa then leaned over to grab whatever nearest staff and whispered. â Canât you see the poor, starving and downright striking lady over there? Better get this table covered with food orâŚâ Said with serious intent, releasing his grip, not wishing to delay any longer. â Make haste for I fear her rumble is nearly upon us.â Returning to his seat, where he could only wait and seriously take a serious sip of his serious cocoa for this was indeed now, a very serious matter.
There was indeed a rumble beginning in the depths of her stomach, which only became apparent to her after overhearing Kazu say the word.
âRUMBLE? For what do we think is about to rumble?â she voiced cheekily, rubbing her belly on her way over to his spot. She then proceeded to plop herself down in a seat next to him, making an exaggerated sigh as she let gravity do the work.
âI am so hungry,â she stated, then took a glance at his frothy drink. Since when do they serve delicious chocolatey drinks at a meat shop? She was sure that was the kind of business she walked into, but after the scent of vanilla and custard began to hit her nose, Ruby started to question the legitimacy of this place.
Briefly released from her dilemma, she turned her attention toward Kazu and began to fiddle with his distracting costume. âWhat is the occasion, Kazu?â Ruby inquired, touching each frill as to compare them with each other. âItâs not everyday that I get the chance to ruffle your feathers in such a literal manner.â She giggled frantically while waiting for his reply.
For the briefest moment he could almost feel the rumble as it happened, as if sharing in her plague. A sensation all too familiar of their ilk; a nobleâs ignorance bliss and a peasantâs eventual demise.
A quick grumbling dismissal of the head, his free left gloved hand pressed firmly as he held his serious gait, a refusal to let such needless thoughts ruin the mood nor this glorious cup of cocoa.
Maintained until lady Ruby joined him at the table, where he smoothly and gently placed the cup down, the handling of a delicate newborn chick with nary a chink. Following, the suited mustachio slid to his feet and to her chair and gave a light tug, a faint scrape. Once properly seated, casually returned to his own; feathers and frills ruffling lightly, crisp and clean without a drop, when place amongst a table of delights of easy slips.
â Ah, dear Ruby. A wondrous surprise, indeed. Youâve caught me enjoying- er I mean suffering my punishment.â A playful titter, refraining from elaborating at the moment. With a rushing wisp of a bright, orange handkerchief to dab at his lips, then picked up his cup.â And fret not, for while meat may be sparse here, but Iâm sure that sweet tooth is equally as ravenous.â All said with that serious expression, instantly changing back to his previous relaxed form before taking a refreshing long sip.
Ruby looked lovingly at Kazu as he dabbed a handkerchief to his mouth. She was so delighted to see him, especially in what appeared to be his elementâ here amongst sweets and pudding galore. But the news of no meat being consumed any time soon quickly wiped the happiness out of her eyes. This might be it. âIt might actually be over for meâ she thought. With complete dramatization, Ruby said in a low, cracked voice, âI donât think you understand, Kazy. I - I âŚneed. Meats. I might not survive the morning without themâ she droned on, fully convinced that the greasy tenderness would cure her affliction.
The mustached gentleman frowned with concern, were that he could magic up a plate of meat. Or the very least his pocket sausage. Left with the overalls sadly; fancy pockets always were too small, frustratingly so.
With her head hung low and back bent over, she moaned and placed both hands palm-down onto the table. She had to consume something, at least. The pounding headache she was experiencing wasnât going to go away on its own. That was when she decided that Kazu might have a point. She did typically have a penchant for sweets.
Glancing up from her crouched position, she set her eyes on the nearest staff member and raised her hand, motioning them over. âHello beautiful!! Ahh.. yes over here!â She waited until the apparent staff approached a little closer, then she spewed out her requests. âWhat kind of delights do you have for a dying girl? Iâll take your best dish. Just make sure itâs thick. And creamy.â Ruby looked over to Kazu, seemingly awaiting his approval. âIâm sure you know this fine man hereâ she pointed at Kazumin, as if to gain some appreciation by associating herself with him. âHe is the pudding king. A connoisseur. If you could just give me something fit for such a lad, then I am positive that I will enjoy itâ. And with that, she knelt back over the table and her eyes began to drift closed.
Now sitting with his chin rested against the back of his hands propped up by the elbow in a playfully relaxed manner watching Ruby give her order. Taking in the delight in her face even when she stared; an assumption of joy shared of eating sweets with a cherished friend.
Raising a brow when upon taking notice the order had shifted to compliments towards him which he would give a small dismissing wave.â Please, please! Youâre far too sweet with your words, Ruby. A wondrous sweet tooth you have, indeed.â He chuckled sitting back up with a quick stroking flick of the mustache ending with an open motion towards the wall on the left.â But, no need for the wonderful staff to know my face all too well, presence and appearance excluded.â Said wall was hosting several pictures of Kazu in various poses and outfit, a shared commonality of pudding stain somewhere.
â Cumbersome it may be eating without some mess aside, they have gotten my visage impeccably⌠though I dare say..â pausing to hear a most unsettling rumble from Rubyâs tummy. â A challenger may perhaps join me on said wall before long.â Leaning forward to give her hand supporting pat.â Fitting it be this ravenous gem and though a beauty, know that this is not a crown this pudding connoisseur gives up easily. Do be sure to bring food till her fill.â He finished a warm smile, a hint of competitive spark as he took a quietly scooped up a big spoonful of pudding and scarfed it down in playful challenge.
Ruby grinned at Kazu, her mismatched eyes flickering between hunger and annoyance. The first spoonful of pudding was already halfway to her mouth before she realized what she was doing.
âAlright, fine, Kazu. Letâs see what this does for me,â she muttered, shoveling the pudding into her mouth.
As soon as the sweet, creamy texture hit her tongue, something seemed to snap. Her eyes widened in shock, and before Kazu could respond, she was on the next spoonful, then the nextâher hand moving faster than she could think. âMore,â she mumbled between bites, her voice muffled by the pudding. She barely swallowed before yelling louder, âMORE!â
Without missing a beat, the waiters scurried over, piling more bowls of pudding onto the table, stacking them in front of her. Ruby barely acknowledged them, her spoon flying between dishes as she devoured each one with a crazed intensity. Pudding smeared across her lips, and she was leaning over the table now, scooping up bites faster than the waiters could keep up.
âMORE!â she barked again, her eyes wild as yet another bowl landed in front of her. She grabbed it, spooning the contents into her mouth without hesitation. Vanilla, chocolate, mangoâit didnât matter anymore. She was in full-on pudding frenzy.
As another dish was placed in front of her, Ruby finally paused long enough to catch her breath, only to yell again, âTHIS ISNâT BEEF!â She slammed her spoon down, glaring at the poor waiter who had just placed the latest bowl.
âI need meat!â she declared with pure dramatic flair, but that didnât stop her from grabbing another spoonful of pudding. âBut until then... more pudding. Keep it coming!â
The waiters exchanged confused glances but continued to pile on more dishes, now struggling to find space on the table. Ruby, meanwhile, had fully embraced the chaos. She was like a woman possessed, spooning pudding into her mouth as if it might vanish if she didnât eat it fast enough.
âKazu!â she gasped mid-bite, waving her spoon in his direction. âThis... this might be the end of me. If I keep going like this... I might actually become pudding!â
But even as she said it, she leaned into yet another bowl, her enthusiasm for the sweets now bordering on madness. âBut what a way to go, huh?â Kazu sat there all the while, simply beaming at the sight of Ruby scarfing down like a starving wildebeest.* Ah, the wildebeest hunger. A classic.* Chuckled amusingly to himself as he ate carefully and gracefully {less he stained this grandiose suit). A delicate scoop of pudding. A delicious treat and view of the pretty gem enjoying herself amongst the confused staff; a sight all too common and shared to the palace dismay.
Location: Private Ship, Moored in Sorian Harbor Time: Late Morning Mentions: @Apex Sunburn Sada Kurau
The small, sleek ship rocked gently in the harbor as Seraphina Duval paced across the polished wooden deck, her heels clicking rhythmically with every step. The air was thick with salt, the scent of the sea mixing with the damp wood of the ship's hull. Around her, a few trusted members of the Black Rose stood at attention, their eyes flicking toward her as they awaited her command.
Seraphina took a deep breath, her gaze sharpening as she addressed the room. âWhere's the spy?"
With those words, the door to the cabin opened, and a young woman with long wavy brown hair and wide, fearful eyes was led in by two guards. Following close behind were her brown-haired parents, their faces etched with fear. The woman stood trembling before Seraphina, her hands clenched tightly at her sides.
Seraphina turned to face them, her gaze landing first on Dahlia, then shifting to her parents. There was no malice in her eyesâonly cold calculation. She gestured for Dahlia to step forward, her voice soft but firm. "Dahlia, you know why you're here."
Dahlia swallowed hard, her voice shaky as she spoke. "Please... I don't want to go. It's a suicide mission. The shipâtheyâll kill me... And if they don't kill me, I might get jailed or even killed byâ"
"Perhaps," Seraphina agreed, interrupting calmly, her fingers tracing the edge of the map. "But youâre useful to us, Dahlia. You have skills we need. And if you succeed, youâll be free of us. Youâll get the answers youâve been looking for about your twin brother, Darryn."
At the mention of her brother, Dahliaâs face twisted in anguish. "You promised me youâd tell me what happened to him... Iâve done everything youâve asked, and still nothing!" Her voice cracked, her desperation palpable.
"Everything has a price, Dahlia. You want answers? Then youâll have to earn them." She gestured to one of her guards, who immediately grabbed Dahliaâs mother by the arm, pulling her roughly to her knees beside her daughter.
Seraphina took a slow, deliberate step forward, her gaze fixed on Dahlia. "I understand that you are afraid," she said, her tone smooth, almost soothing. "You fear that this mission will be your end, and perhaps it will be. But let me offer you a way out."
Dahliaâs eyes flicked to her parents, her breath hitching in her throat. "A way out?" she whispered, her voice trembling with desperate hope.
Seraphina nodded, her lips curling into a faint smile. "Yes, a way out. Iâll let you walk away from this mission, Dahlia." She paused, letting the silence fill the space between them before she continued, "But only if you choose. One of your parents will live. The other..." Her gaze flicked to the guards holding Dahliaâs parents. "The other will die."
Dahlia gasped, her hand flying to her mouth as her eyes filled with horror. "No... please... you canât ask me to choose. I canât..."
Seraphina remained unmoved. "I can, and I am. This is your choice, Dahlia. If you refuse to go on the mission, then you will decide who dies and who lives. If you go, they both walk away unharmed. But if you refuse me, then you will watch as one of them bleeds out in front of you."
She leaned in slightly, her voice low and threatening. "And do not think that Iâm bluffing."
Dahliaâs entire body trembled as she turned to her parents, their faces full of anguish. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she shook her head in disbelief. "Please... donât make me do this..."
Seraphina remained silent, waiting, her gaze unwavering.
The guards gripped the shoulders of Dahliaâs parents tightly, and the sharp glint of a knife caught the sunlight as one of the guards raised it to her fatherâs throat. "Itâs simple," Seraphina said quietly, almost gently. "Choose, or I will choose for you."
Dahliaâs breath came in short gasps, her mind reeling with the weight of the decision. Her hands shook, her heart pounding in her chest as she tried to form words, but nothing came. Finally, she broke down, "No, please... Iâll go. Iâll go on the mission."
Seraphina straightened, the faintest hint of satisfaction crossing her face. "Very well. That wasnât so difficult, was it?" She then smiled at the young woman. "Youâve made the right choice, Dahlia."
Seraphinaâs gaze, sharp as a blade, lingered on Dahlia as she took a slow step forward. "Iâm pleased youâve seen reason, Dahlia," she began, "However, understand this clearly."
She glanced at the guards, who held Dahliaâs parents firmly in place, their expressions frozen in terror. Seraphinaâs eyes returned to Dahlia, hard as iron. "Your parents will remain here, under my watchful eye. If, at any moment during your mission, you so much as entertain the idea of betrayal..." Her gaze darkened, and she allowed the words to hang in the air before continuing, "they will dieâslowly. Painfully."
"And when I say painful, Dahlia, I mean it. We have mages capable of pain spells beyond your nightmares." She told her. "Youâll know that every cry, every scream of agony they let out, is your doing."
Her eyes met Dahlia's. "Or perhaps Iâll use them as our test subjects for the new drugs in development... Play with them until they beg for death." Her voice carried the nonchalance of one discussing dinner plans as she spoke, "But death, Dahlia, will not come quickly for them. I will make sure it lasts for days."
Dahliaâs breath hitched, her face paling.
"So remember this well, Dahlia. You belong to me now. Fail me, betray me, and you will not only lose your life... but you will hear your parents tortured until their last breath. And trust me," she added, "Their last breaths will take a very long time."
Dahlia could only nod, her throat too tight to speak, the gravity of the situation crushing any remnants of hope she had left.
As Dahlia and her parents were led out of the room, their footsteps heavy with despair, Seraphina turned her back on them, her expression cold and detached. The air in the room was thick with tension when Laurie stepped forward, brows furrowed in thought. Her voice, though quiet, carried the weight of her curiosity.
"Why not use one of our own?" Laurie asked, her tone careful. "Why the Fletchers?"
Seraphina didnât turn to face Laurie immediately. Instead, she remained staring out over the harbor, her hands clasped neatly behind her back. After a moment of silence, she finally spoke, her voice slow and deliberate.
âBecause theyâre all going to die regardless,â Seraphina replied, her voice devoid of emotion. She turned slightly, her sharp gaze locking with Laurieâs. âMarek wants them dead.â She allowed her words to linger in the air for a moment, watching the understanding dawn on Laurieâs face before continuing.
âDahlia and her twin brother Darryn have been in servitude to the Black Rose for a long time now. They were once useful, particularly Darryn, but things have changed. DahliaâŚâ Seraphina trailed off for a moment, considering her next words with the careful calculation that defined her. âSheâs always been a stealthy little thing, slipping through shadows, unnoticed. Thatâs why I chose her for this mission. Her skills are valuable, and while her fear clouds her judgment, her survival instincts are strong. She will get the job done because she has no other choice.â
Laurie nodded slowly, processing the explanation, but there was still a lingering uncertainty in her eyes. âBut why not use someone more loyal? One of our own couldââ
âLoyalty is not always a guarantee of success, Laurie,â Seraphina interrupted, her voice sharp. âShe's disposable. This is a test run after all... We have others to send after her if need be. I'm sending her to a mage first to enchant her with a spell or two that will make her useful no matter what they do with her."
Time: 10am Location: Edwards Estate / Drakeâs Party Mentions: @princess Lottie, @FunnyGuy Lorenzo
Cassius laid there, feeling the cool earth beneath his back and the warm sun above. But the real warmth, the kind that spread through him like a slow-burning fire, came from Charlotte. Her laughter, the way her eyes sparkled with life as she teased him... it made his chest feel oddly tight. A part of him wanted to dismiss it, to lean on his usual tricksâŚa grin, a playful quip, but when she took his hand, that same hand that had taken lives and spilled blood, he froze. It wasnât the touch of a princess to a knight. No, it was even softer, more delicate. Too tender for a man like him.
For a moment, his heart did something unfamiliarâŚit skipped, maybe. And, to his confusion, a blush crept up his neck. Shit... I think I'm blushing. He glanced at their joined hands, trying to mask the way his breath had caught in his lungs. Her touch sent warmth into his chest, spreading through his veins and settling somewhere deeper, somewhere dangerous. He felt his throat tighten, the weight of her simple, earnest words crashing over him like a wave.
"...And Iâm glad itâs with you."
He tried to grin, to let some cocky remark slip from his lips. But nothing came. All he could do was look at her, that easy smile faltering for the first time in longer than he could remember. His storm-gray eyes softened, taking in every detail of Charlotte...how the sunlight danced in her dark hair, the way she seemed to shine against the chaos of the world around them. Gods⌠sheâs beautiful. The thought took him by surprise, knocking him sideways in his mind.
Cassius forced a chuckle to break the silence, though it sounded almost nervous to his own ears. Nervous...him, of all people. âWell, that makes two of us.â he said lightly, though his voice had a rougher edge to it than before. His eyes lingered on her, watching as she sank deeper into the grass, her contentment palpable. The moment was soft, sweet⌠too sweet.
And thatâs when the doubt crept in.
The rogue in him, the man who had spent his life chasing thrills and experiencing all the beauty in the world, felt a tug to pull away. His instincts kicked in, like they always did in a fight, but this wasnât a battlefield he recognized. This was something else entirely, something that made the back of his neck heat up and his pulse quicken in ways that had nothing to do with enemies charging to take his life.
He could feel it now...something shifting deep inside him, as if the ground he stood on was no longer solid. His thoughts, though always a storm, usually sharp and focused, began to race in a thousand different directions at once. He wasnât in control. What is this? he wondered, the confusion creeping in, unsettling him in ways no threat or enemy ever had. But he didnât understand it. He was supposed to be good at this...reading situations, keeping control, predicting the next move, or at least reacting to whatever move could come with poise and always a dash of confidence. Yet when it came to her, to this moment, all he could feel was that unfamiliar heat coursing through him, a war raging inside that he had no idea how to fight.
Before he could dwell on it, Lorenzoâs bizarre mumbling cut through the air, dragging him back to reality. Pieces of him felt relief, a small smirk curling at the corners of his mouth as Charlotte scrambled to her feet, tipsy but resolute. She was so endearing in her determination, commanding the scene with that familiar fire in her eyes...a fire he was unsure she even knew she had. It was a good distraction, a reprieve from the uncertainty that had settled in the pit of his stomach.
Still on the ground, Cassius pushed himself up onto his elbows, watching her with that familiar, cocky grin. But even now, there was something softer in his gaze as he followed her movements, something that hadnât even been there before.
He let out a low chuckle, shaking his head as she announced the alcohol ban and took charge of the situation. His heart warmed at the sight of her rallying behind Lorenzo, even as the man, who moments ago had threatened him, rambled on about ferrets and feet.
Life is so fucking weird, sometimes.
When Lottie turned to him with that bright smile, asking for his help with Lorenzoâs gifts, Cassius gave her a wink, slipping back into his usual charm. âOf course, anything for you, Princess.â
But even as he said it, his mind kept circling back to the moment before...the touch of her hand, the look in her eyes. Part of him wanted to laugh it off, to pretend none of it mattered. But deep down, he knew better. Something was shifting in him, and no amount of teasing or bravado could keep it at bay forever.
Youâre in trouble, Cassius. A voice rang out in his mindâs eye, though this time it was not his. This voice came from a deeper place, one built on memories and days gone by. It was the voice of his mother, the voice of Meredith Vael.
D A M I E N E S T A T E | E V E N I N G I n t e r a c t i o n s : Anastasia / Charlotte @princess , Fritz @JJ Doe , Farim @Lava Alckon M e n t i o n s : Charlotte and Drake
âY yo no dudo de tu talento de persuasiĂłn, pero hay que estar de acuerdo que yo ganarĂa. O seaââ Zarai motioned to herself in an over-the-top, playful manner, thoroughly enjoying the banter over Anastasiaâs affection. âMira me, prĂncipe. Soy una delicia. No estoy diciendo que tĂş no lo eres, pero yo soy un pastel despuĂŠs de un dĂa largo y demandante. Tú⌠tĂş eres⌠una galletita. Linda y chiquititaâ but sharing is caring, after all.â She pinched the air teasingly in front of her, a full smirk forming on her lips as she winked. She left it at that, allowing their lighthearted quarrel to rest for another day, especially with Anastasia now entirely engrossed in Farim. They really did make a cute pair, but beneath the surface of her jest, Zarai couldnât help but feel a pang of concern over their very public display.
Zarai knew more than most the weight of rumors and criticisms that circulated within high society. It was a relentless, invisible pressure, tightening its grip on anyone it touched. She would never wish for anyone else to endure that suffocating scrutiny.
The arrival of the servants with trays of food and drinks pulled Zarai from the storm brewing in her mind. The delicious smell of delicacies filled the air, temporarily clearing the fog. They set the dishes in the center of the table and placed plates before everyone. A tray of cocktails had been brought out as well; even Sir Barriosâs tea had been replaced with an orange juice cocktailâsomething, she noted with amusement, he didnât protest against.
She made a mental note about the charity concert, determined to attend and show her support. Just then, Lord Drake took to the stage, proudly displaying the musical piece gifted by Charlotte. Zarai let her eyes close for a moment, letting the beautiful notes wash over her as the melody unfolded. âThat is lovelyâŚâ she murmured to herself, appreciating the talent behind the music. But when Drake made his dramatic exit by stumbling off the stage, Zarai slapped a hand over her mouth, trying to stifle her laughter. âI hope he didnât break anything,â she chuckled, reaching for a cocktail to help hide her giggles. Gods, it tasted so strong!
The conversation took a mischievous turn then, and Zarai enthusiastically joined in. âStrip poker does sound rather fun,â she nodded, eyes twinkling with playfully. âBut I will only play if Sir Barrios agrees too!â She grinned as she looked at the knight, just in time to catch him downing his cocktail. âWhat do you say, my knight? Will you partake in a fun game of strip poker with us?â
Sir Barrios, clearly unprepared for such a bold proposition, began to cough into his hand and almost spilled his drink, his face turning an alarming shade of red. Whether from embarrassment or the fact that he was briefly choking on his drink, Zarai couldnât be sureâbut it was a perfect moment to shift her attention to Fritz.
âMay I have a word, Count?â Zarai asked, her tone softening as she turned to him. She gave the rest of the table a quick smile. âIn private.â Without waiting for an answer, she pushed her chair back and stood up, biting back a wince of discomfort. "Worry not; we will be back just in time for poker." She said over her shoulder as she headed towards a more desolate part of the garden. The pit in her stomach deepened with every short step. Her feet ached, but the pain only steeled her resolve.
Today, Fritz would have the answer to his question.
Sola 22, 1739
The midnight sea-side breeze tickled her skin as Zarai descended the narrow alleys behind the Sorian Library. The streets were littered with trash and drunkards alike; some slumped against buildings trying to keep their heads upright while others lay on the dirt road. Even back home, people littered the streets of lower Puerto Vira drunk, drugged, or a combination of both. Her chest twisted with an unfamiliar feeling, it pulled at her until forced herself to look away.
The trip from the guest house to The Tough Tavern wasnât short, not now anyway. She had to take her time, or sheâd run out of breath quickly, and her chest still hurt every time she took a deep breath. It was frustrating and humiliating, and she could do nothing about it but blame herself for her idiocy. Zarai was still debating whether she would beat whoever had done this to he. First, she would have to find the culprit, fortunately for her Duchess Francesca was already on that.
Warmth from the tavern greeted her when she opened the door and stepped inside the building. Sheâd expected Fritz and Udo on the stage, Peter somewhere not too far laughing his ass off, and Karleen giving them all a disapproving shake of her head. Instead, she found them in a corner, all sitting at a table without a word exchanged between themâ Udo nowhere to be seen. The air felt heavy as she approached them, eyebrow arched at the parrot perched on one of the empty chairs.
Luz removed the thin brown cloak from her shoulders as she looked at them all. "Having fun, arenât we?"
âAh, why isnât it the illustrious Heir of Puerto Vira herself!â Peter stood on his seat and anchored his foot onto the table as he dramatically bowed. âWelcome. What brings you to this humble watering hole, milady?â Karleen, seated beside him, smacked Peterâs propped leg, causing the redhead to fall back into his chair. âSh*te! What the f**k Karl?â
âManners.â Karleen nodded at Luz.
"Fabulous as always, Karleen." Luz nodded back, but not before sticking her tongue out at Pete
âGood evening, Lady Ledesman.â Rynâs voice ringed tired even in his ears. âItâs good to see you.â He rose from his chair and offered Luz his best smile. He expected to see the shadow of Sir Barrios looming behind her or in the recesses of the room, but saw no traces of him anywhere. âSo⌠will Sir Barrios still have his job tomorrow?â
"He will, he is just catching up to his beauty sleep. Needs all of the extra hours he could get too." Heâs not the only one in need of sleep. Luz returned his smile easily.
His smile turned lopsided. âCare to join us?â
She nodded, looking around the table. Luz shot a glance at the the parrot, and quickly decided that sheâd rather not add any more marks to her skin than the collection she was currently sporting. Even if she did try, the parrot was already staring her down in an almost threatening way. Iâll cook you. I donât know how, but I will. She thought glancing to the other empty chair besides it.
âGriIllLLlled,â the parrot sheerked at the top of its lungs, as they flapped their wings. âSMOooOooked! MmmmMmm!â Karleen tore off some chicken from the banquet and pushed it into the parrotâs mouth. âMmmm.â The parrot repeated. Zarai cringed.
She began towards it when Fritz suddenly stopped her and offered his own. âThanks.â Zarai glanced at the parrot, glad she didnât have to sit next to a colorful talking chicken⌠that ate chicken. âThereâs someone missing.â She said to Fritz, her eyes darting to the snapped figurine on the table. Udo? Without giving an answer other than a nod, Ryn wandered off to a neighboring table to ask if he could take a chair.
âExcellent power of observation, milady.â Peter held what was clearly not his first drink in her direction then chugged it down. He slammed the empty tankard onto the table and called out to the other red-head manning the bar, âOi! Another round of drinks over here!â
âPoison?â Karleen asked Luz, cutting the idiom down to two syllables.
âAlways.â Zarai replied without a second thought.
Ryn slid a chair between Luz and the vacant seat. âGet whatever you want, itâs our treat.â He heard Peterâs snort, dark and dripping with anger and sadness.
âIâll settle for the usual.â Luz knew that mead could do no wrong for her, and she needed something stronger, she knew the barkeep had something behind the counter that would do just fine.
She glanced around the table and shifted in her seat. Her icy stare darted around the table as if the air it self would tell her what the fuck was going on. Everyone was acting out of the ordinary, even Karleen was quieter than usual. She had expected, and now wished, for Peter to start teasing her over her title. Poking fun and pointing out the obvious for the whole table to hear.
This feels like a family dinner. Luz thought, trying not to shudder at that thought.
Another second later Luz groaned loudly as she slumped back on the chair and crossed her arms. âIs anyone going to tell me what is going on or are we going to pretend this isnât awkward?â
âExcuuuuse us, milady, did we disturb you? Weâre real sorry about that. Hey, letâs move over there so we donât make her feel awkward.â Peter began to rise, a movement halted by Karleen's hands.
âStop it, Pete.â
âWeâre libating.â Ryn stroked the rim of the cup while his eyes remained transfixed on the ripples of the liquid. He only looked up with his signature smile when the beverages were delivered to their table. After thanking the person who brought them their drinks, he distributed the cups to everyone.
Zarai was ready to go like a wind up spring, insult at the tip of her tongue until she realized something. She was being fucking asshole. With a sigh of resignation, she sat back down and offered a small apologetic tug of her lips to Peter. She couldnât demand to know what had happened when it was clear none of them wanted to speak of it.
âLibating.â Her tone had gone softer as her eyes darted to the broken figure on the table.
âFor Udo.â Ryn took a sip of the drink to soothe the lump in the back of his throat, but all the alcohol did was burn everything along its path. It did not make the next words any easier to say. âHeâs dead.â
The air grew thick with a weighty silence that fell over their table like a heavy shroud. Despite the lively commotion permeating the tavernâpatronsâs animated conversations, mugs clinking, and laughter echoing in the airâit all seemed muted and distant.
Luz stared at Fritz, her mouth agape. She was having trouble processing what he had just said. He was lying, she concluded. It was all a sick joke she never thought he would play. How could he say that in front of Peter and Karleen? In front of that stupid parrot?! But as she searched their faces, their somber looks became more and more apparent to her.
âSo this ainât going to get any less awkward, Your Gracious-Graciness.â
It wasnât a lie or some cruel joke. It was the truth. Fuck. A sharp, invisible blade twisted in her chest, and her lungs tightened as though she were being dragged underwater. The world plunged into the icy depths of a frigid lake, and it threatened to pull her down with it.
But she wouldnât let herself drown.
Luz rose to her feet, gripping her cup as if it were a lifeline, and lifted it high above her head. âToââ her voice faltered, her breath catching, âTo Udoâmay he find peace in Nnenneâs arms.â Her free hand moved in a slow, deliberate motion, first to her forehead as Udo had done, then to her heart, and finally to her trembling lips.
Every human at the table followed Luzâs lead while the parrot lifted their piece of chicken as high as they could. âTo Udo,â they chanted in unison and took a swig of their drinks. The silence returned as everyoneâs eyes focused on something far, far away.
âIs he reincarnated?â Karleen broke the silence first.
âAlready?â Peter lit his pipe and gave it a moment before answering. âProlly not. Wasnât it after the ocean picks all the meat off their bones that their souls are released from their body or some sh*te like that?â
âSh****tttTTe LIiikke Ttthhaat?â the parrot parroted.
âI always thought their souls were released once Nnenne accepts their body.â Ryn chimed in.
Peter waved his hand dismissively, âSame difference.â
âDo souls stay in the ocean if theyâre not reincarnated?â Karleen asked.
âAccording to Udoâs sermons, reincarnation is a choice. So maybe they do?â
Karleenâs gaze drifted over at the broken figurine. âI hope his family waited for him.â
Ryn followed her gaze. âIâm sure they did. He worked very hard to reunite with them.â
She kept her hopes for Udoâs reincarnated soul unspoken, choosing instead to observe the group in silence. Leaning back against her chair, Luz cradled the cup of mead close to her chest, a small smile forming as she allowed herself to imagine Udo reborn, this time into a peaceful life. She pictured him as a baby, welcomed by a joyful family and a mother eager to hold him in her arms. The thought was a fleeting comfort.
Fortune favors the braveâŚ
With that, she finished her drink in one swift motion, rising from her seat and heading toward the bar without a word. Moments later, she returned, a bottle of clear liquid in one hand and a stack of small shot glasses in the other. âThis is Mezcal, a traditional drink from Catalonia,â she explained as she poured the spirit into the glasses, her movements deliberate. She handed each person a shot. âDrink up.â
âDonât mind if I do.â Peter said, snatching up a cup. Karleen swallowed her drink in one swift motion, then reached for a cup with a grateful nod towards Luz. Ryn thanked Luz and slid the last cup towards himself out of courtesy, but did not do much beyond that. Unlike his companions, Ryn was still nursing his first drink.
Peter tilted his head back as he released a puff of smoke from his mouth. âNot gonna ask howâd it happen?â
Luz downed her shot swiftly, savoring the burn as the liquor scorched its way down her throat. Peterâs question drew her focus back to the group. Did she want to know the details? Udo was gone, and nothing could change that now. All that remained was to mourn and let go. Luz hoped Nnenne had already embraced his soul, guiding him toward peaceâwhether it be to another life or wherever he chose to go.
Yet, she couldn't deny the pull of curiosity. How had it happened? Was it quick? Had he suffered? Was he afraid? Alone? The invisible knife in her chest twisted painfully, but she silenced it with another shot.
âHow did he die?â
âMurdered.â
The word struck Ryn like a dagger.
âWait. Or was it just an elaborate suicide?â Ryn heard the sharp edges of Boss trying to catch his attention, so he peeled his gaze away from his cup and jumped into Peterâs amber eyes. No words passed between them.
Luzâs chest tightened, her lungs struggling to pull in air as she settled back into her chair. She blinked rapidly, brushing away the moisture gathering in the corners of her eyes. Her gaze drifted to Fritz, and all she wanted was to pull him into a hug. Hug them all, even that irritating parrot. That was what you were supposed to doâoffer a comforting touch when words fell short.
Reaching across the table, she placed her hand over Fritzâs arm and gave it a gentle squeeze. He wrapped his hand around herâs and returned the gentle squeeze.
She had to clear her throat before speaking again, âDo you know who?â
Peter managed to say yes, before Rynâs voice cut in, âDonât.â Although his countenance remained neutral, his grip on Luz hand tightened. Only she noticed the tremor.
She cleared her throat softly, steadying herself before speaking again. âDo you know who the bastard who did it?â
âDonât. What. Boss?â Peter punctuated every word with a hiss. âDonât strip and jig? Donât eat watermelon and cheese together? Donât talk about how we know exactly who did it, but arenât going to do a damn thing about it?â
Luz looked at him, frowning.
âWe donât actually know who was involved.â
âBullcrap!â Peter slammed his hands on the table, causing the items on the table to jump and clatter. âYou f**king know that Blââ
âFor her safety.â
Peter paused. His attention shifted onto Luz.
Ryn also shifted his attention to her. âI donât know what Iâd do if something happened to you too.â His grip loosened on her hand to pat it. âItâs best if you donât know.â Then he gave her a smileâan artfully crafted guise to hide a wellspring of emotions both untold and neglected.
âBest for who, Fritz?â Luz scoffed, the disbelief evident in her voice. Was he really going to pull that shit? As smart and charming as he was, sometimes Fritz could be a complete idiot.
The corner of Peterâs eyes twitched, a telltale sign of his mounting displeasure. Even in his discontent, however, there lingered a glimmer of hope, a silent plea that reached out to Luz.
Those eyes, that look, that damn glimmerâit was like a bucket of ice-cold water had been dumped over her, chilling her to the bone. If Fritz kept acting like this, she might as well throw the damn bucket herself. âWho?â Her gaze snapped to Peter, determined and relentless. If Fritz wouldnât give her the answers, sheâd get them from someone who would. âWho ordered it?â
âNo.
âZarai.â Rynâs voice was stripped of all warmth and his once soft expression turned chillingly blank. ââItâs best if you donât know,â because, if you get too close, you and all the people you care about might face the same fate as Udo.â As he drew closer, his figure cast a shadow upon herâand hopefully, her resolve. âAsk yourself, are you truly prepared to gamble with their lives, simply out of curiosity? Can you bear the weight of knowing that your actions led to the agonizing demise of those dear to you? How their lives slipped away with no one to share their final moments?â
Stop.
Luz did not need to be a part of this, especially when it could put her life in danger. He had to scare her off. âYou want to know how Udo died? He was ambushed in the middle of the city at night. We found lots of lacerations and more than a couple bullet wounds. One of the bullets hit his heart. He bled to death, Luz.â
Stop it.
âThe thing about having a hole in the heart is that for a few precious seconds, the personâs still alive.â Rynâs hands seized Luzâs shoulders. âThey live long enough to feel the pain.â
Stop!
âThe loneliness.â His fingers dug into the weave of Luzâs garments, desperate for the tactile reassurance.
âThe sorrow.â Heat pooled behind his dry eyes.
âThe anguish.â Despite his efforts to quell it, the tremors resurfaced.
âAnd regretâŚâ Ryn breathed deeply, then curved his lips into a hollow semblance of a smile. âIt was not a peaceful end. Thatâs how Udo died.â
Stop!!
âLiar.â The familiar baritone of Udoâs cadence emanated from the parrot cracked the fragile smile. Ryn shut his eyes as he salvaged the fragments before he fell apart, piece by piece.
â... a hypocrite of the highest order, a liar...â Udoâs words dropped into the water and rippled across Zaraiâs mind. â... would you still step in to help Fritz?â Another drop fell. âHe is so convinced that he has to do this alone and itâs why he will fail.â Then it vanished too, engulfed by the sea.
Whatever angry remark or bitter insult she had prepared melted away as she watched the man before her crumble. He was like glass, shattering slowly, each fracture spiderwebbing across the surface of someone she cared for deeply.
âFritzâŚâ Luz's voice came out softer than she intended, yet it still felt like it wasnât soft enough. She gently pushed his hands from her shoulders and leaned forward, wrapping him in a tight embrace. One arm held him close, pressing against his back, while the other hand found its way to the back of his head, her fingers threading through his black hair with tender care. Slowly. The way her grandmother used to do for her when she was just a child.
Rynâs breath caught sharply, his body tensing as Luzâs arms enveloped him.
"You can't scare me off," Zarai whispered, her arms still wrapped tightly around him, as if her embrace alone could hold him together. She clung to him, desperate to stop the fractures from spreading, to prevent him from shattering into a million piecesâpieces she feared he wouldnât be able to put back together again.
Rynâs hands found their way around Luz, pulling her closer. His fingertips traced the contours of her as he pressed his face against the curve of her neck. Their bodies melded together, Luz becoming the one thing holding him intact. Through a shaky breath, Ryn mustered an attempt at joviality, âWell, it was worth a try.â He allowed himself to savor the comfort of her presence for a few more heartbeats, then murmured, âWe can talk⌠but not here.â
âItâs been quite a night,â Ryn said deliberately loud enough to reach not only those huddled around the table but also any curious eavesdroppers. âMind getting the carriage?â Karleen nodded and navigated her way through the maze of people toward the exit. Ryn looked down at the Mezcal and leftover food decorating the table. âAnd Iâll go see if we can take this to go.â Once Ryn left, Peter, Luz, and the parrot were all that remained at the table.
Luz watched Fritz walk away, her gaze fixed on his shoulders, tense as though one wrong step might cause him to fall apart and scatter across the floor. She hopedâdesperatelyâthat this wasnât just an act. That he would reach out, ask her for help. But deep down, she feared he was already planning how to shut her out, to handle everything on his own.
Smoke unfurled from Peterâs nostrils, curling through the air as he exhaled. âThanks. Bossâs always been the type to bottle stuff up butâŚâ The redhead sighed. âHe didnât allow himself to grieve. Just did the sea burial then went straight back to work with that damn smile on his face.â
"I figured." Luz shrugged, casually spinning the shot glass in front of her. "Some people need time to process their grief. Others just need a little push." Her eyes met Peterâs through the lingering haze of smoke. "If thereâs anything you can tell me, please do." She sat up straighter, leaning toward the table with quiet intensity. "Or if you need help, money, transportation, anythingâjust let me know."
Peterâs eyes remained locked on Luzâs as he leaned back into his chair and blew out another puff of thick smoke. âDonât make promises youâre not sure you can keep until you know what youâre getting yourself into first, huh, future Duchess?â The lighting of the tavern and thickness of the smoke made the amber of his eyes seem to glow. âYou never know when a promise might turn out to be a contract in disguise.â
Zarai walks through the dirty streets of Sorian, still recovering from an injury that causes her pain with each breath. She arrives at the Tough Tavern, expecting to find her friends in their usual jovial state, but instead, the mood is somber. Udo, one of their companions, is missing. As they gather around a table, Zarai notices something is off. Her attempts to lighten the mood fall flat, and soon, she learns the terrible truthâUdo is dead, murdered.
The grief hits hard, and the group raises a toast in Udo's memory. The conversation drifts into uneasy topics about souls and reincarnation, but the focus remains on Udo's tragic death. Zarai is torn between wanting to know more about how Udo died and the fear of being pulled deeper into the dangerous circumstances surrounding his murder.
Fritz and Peter argue about revealing the details of Udo's death. Fritz tries to protect Zarai by keeping her in the dark, but Peterâs anger boils over. Fritz, desperate to scare Zarai away from the truth, describes Udoâs agonizing death in chilling detail, hoping it will dissuade her from asking more questions.
Translations
"Y yo no dudo de tu talento de persuasiĂłn, pero hay que estar de acuerdo que yo ganarĂa. O seaâ Mira me, prĂncipe. Soy una delicia. No estoy diciendo que tĂş no lo eres, pero yo soy un pastel despuĂŠs de un dĂa largo y demandante. Tú⌠tĂş eres⌠una galletita. Linda y chiquititaâ but sharing is caring, after all."
"And I don't doubt your talent for persuasion, but you have to agree that I would win. I meanâ Look at me, prince. I am a delight. I'm not saying you're not, but I'm a cake after a long and demanding day. You... you are... a cookie. Cute and tinyâ but sharing is caring, after all."
Time: Morning Location: Drakes Birthday Party Attire:Dress Interaction: @Lava Alckon Farim @CitrusArms Stratya Anastasia's smirk widened as Farimâs hand brushed against her chin. She met his gaze, eyes gleaming with amusement, completely at ease. "Frustrations?" She repeated with intrigue, "Sweetheart, if this is frustrating you, you might be in trouble... I'm just warming up. "
She trailed a finger lightly along his arm, her touch featherlight, almost teasing. "I hope you can manage until later," she whispered, her tone dripping with suggestion, "because Iâd hate for this to be over too soon." She winked, her gaze playfully challenging as she pulled back. She was glad to hear that Farim and possibly the others were going to show up for some strip poker.
The party needed to keep going after all. She needed it to keep going...
But why did she?
Her smile started to fade ever so slightly, and for a moment it felt as if the shadows of her mind were reaching toward her, creeping up from behind like cold fingers curling around the edges of her skull. They were a quiet but insistent reminder, dark tendrils that clawed at the joy she sought to keep alive, dragging her thoughts back to Darryn this time. They had been patient today, waiting for the moment the distraction ended, for when she would be forced to face them head-on.
For a moment, the noise of the party vanished, like someone had turned down the volume of the world itself. The vivid greens of the room dulled, blurring into muted shades, and even the lively notes of Drake's piano seemed distant, like an echo from a dream. All that remained was the creeping stillness, where her own voice echoed loudly from the depths of her subconscious:
Having fun? Meanwhile Darryn lies dead... He'll never have fun again.
Before she could process the thought Stratyaâs voice suddenly grounded her, and Anastasia found herself blinking as if she'd just awoken from a dream. It was as if all the sounds turned back on along when she spoke, as if it had been as simple as flicking a switch. Her attention moved to the knight and she beamed. "Hi there!" She greeted and then teased, "Are you suuurrre you're not making up an excuse because you wanna come play... Because you totally could just ask, silly."
Drake then continued on to play a second song, apparently gifted to him by Charlotte. She chewed her lip as Stratya had brought up the idea of her being a sweetheart, but nodded with a forced smile. She chewed on her lip, nodding at Stratya with a forced smile, pushing back the faint discomfort. But when Drake fell, tumbling into chaos, Anastasia's attention snapped toward the spectacle, and a bright giggle bubbled up. "Oh my gods! Can't blame a guy for getting drunk on his birthday though, can we?"
Yet, the amusement was quickly replaced by concern when Ariella ran to her brother's side. Anastasia's gaze softened, watching her friend. "She's free... Thank goodness." She murmured to herself. She made a mental note to check on Ariella later, to make sure her friend was truly okay.
Of course, Duchess Victoria was quite literally something out of the underworld as she always, as she embarrassed her children in front of everyone and herself. To Anastasia's shock, Stratya decided to tell the duchess to take off her shoes, her bold voice cutting through the tension like a knife.
Anastasia's hand flew to her mouth, stifling a loud laugh, but she couldn't contain the glee bubbling up inside. "Captain Durmand!" She exclaimed with glee between laughs. "What's gotten into you? I love it!" And then, as if the scene couldn't get any funnier, Lorenzo piped in, adding his own bizarre commentary. Anastasia doubled over, lost in her laughter enough to barely notice that Zarai and Fritz had stepped off to talk privately.
Time:Past:Nighttime Present:10am Location: Damien Estate Mentions:@FunnyguyAlexander @reusableswordRoman @princessCalbert and Liliane
...Past
The long-awaited trip had finally arrived for the Damien household, though not under the circumstances anyone had hoped. Their mother, too ill to make the journey, had reluctantly stayed behind in Montauppe, where she could be under the constant care of the finest doctors. Violet was given the responsibility of traveling in her place, a duty she had grown accustomed to over the years. It wasnât a choice, not anymoreâjust another task handed down, like an unspoken inheritance. Watching over Crystal, her younger sister, had become less of a request and more of an expectation as they both grew older.
For once, Crystal was able to travel. Having finally shaken off the last remnants of her recent illness, she was in good spirits, her cheeks flushed with the warmth of health. Their mother had insisted she go, determined to give her daughter a taste of the world beyond Montauppe. Crystalâs future carried the weight of the familyâs hopes; she was the daughter meant for bright things, a promising marriage, and the revitalization of their householdâs name.
Violet didnât mind the arrangementâat least, thatâs what she told herself. She had long since accepted her role, the quiet one who stood in the shadow of her sisterâs potential. As Crystalâs future blossomed, Violetâs own had dimmed. Approaching the age when most young women were presented to society, she knew that life wasnât meant for her. It had never been in the cards. She was practical, reliable, and the one entrusted with the quiet burdens of the family. And so, she traveled in place of their mother, not for her own sake but for Crystalâsâalways for Crystal.
It was alot harder to wed off someone with the disfigurement she obtained as a child. Though not impossible, Violet held down her expectations to avoid disappointment. Knowing her family sheâd likely be married off to a business arrangement or perhaps a wealthy elder man whos life would expire before hers began. Thankfully she had many books to read, stories of romance and lives unlived. Her favorite book was one she had since she was a child. The gold lettering on the front had been nearly chipped away, the spine was broken in and the book looked well-loved. Whenever she could she re-read it, over and over and each time the story was just as magical as the first.
Her favorite story had become that of a man, misunderstood and shunned by all because of his grotesque appearance. The villagers saw him as nothing more than a beastâa monster to be feared and avoided at all costs. She found herself deeply relating to this so-called monster, feeling a kinship with his isolation and the way others recoiled from him without ever trying to understand the person beneath. In the midst of his loneliness and despair, a woman entered his life. Unlike the others, she didnât let his terrifying appearance drive her away. Her aversion to the men who pursued herâa parade of suitors who flaunted their charm with empty, superficial gesturesâonly made her see the true ugliness that lurked in their hearts. Their attempts to win her affection were shallow, filled with arrogance and entitlement. But the Beast was different.
Despite his fearsome exterior, he was kind, patient, and strong in ways that mattered. He treated her with gentle respect, taking the time to truly know her, to understand her in a way that none of the other men ever had. His tenderness and thoughtfulness transcended the surface, and in turn, she came to understand him as well. Their bond grew slowly, built not on appearances but on the quiet care they shared for one another, forged through patience, trust, and a deep sense of mutual understanding. She found beauty in the beast. It was a tale as old as time itself.
Their travel had been long, they had arrived just in time for their father's meetings and just in time for the seasons unexpected snowstorm.
Days of icy winds and thick frost had kept the Damien household confined indoors. It was the longest and coldest winter her father had said. They were meant to travel back to Montauppe after her father's work events but the weather had become harsh. It wasnât that she disliked the coldâquite the opposite. She adored it, but her love for the warmth of a crackling fire and the comfort of a soft blanket always won out. Her windowsill had become her refuge here, the perfect place to curl up with a book. Close enough to feel the fire's gentle heat, yet far enough to watch the snow drift from the sky like fragile crystals.
Her fingers ran down the cover of her favorite book, tracing the detailed outlines of the filigree and aspects of gold that remained, the title nearly vanished from view but she didnât need anyone else to know its secrets. The important thing was that she knew was laid beyond the cover.
Her silver eyes reflected the flurries outside, each snowflake twirling and spinning as it fell. The night was so dark and heavy with snow that she could barely make out the outlines of the trees beyond her window. The fire crackled beside her, filling the room with its comforting, steady hum.
Then came a soundâa soft knock at the door, delicate and hesitant.
A tiny whisper broke the stillness.
"Violet?" The voice, barely more than a murmur, was timid, like a mouse stirring in the quiet.
Violet lifted her gaze from the worn cover of her book, a gentle smile tugging at her lips.
"Crystal," she replied softly, recognizing the fragile voice of her younger sister. Peeking around the doorframe, the small child stood there, her large blue eyes shimmering, her golden hair spilling over her shoulders like pale silk.
âWhat are you doing up so late?â Violet asked, her voice warm and soothing. Crystal, frail and delicate, tiptoed into the room, shutting the door quietly behind her. Her fingers twisted nervously as she shifted from one foot to the other, eyes lowered in guilt.
Violet's smile softened. She set the book aside and turned, her eyes scanning Crystal with understanding. "Another bad dream?" she asked, her voice tender. Crystal gave a small nod before rushing toward her. Tiny feet padded across the floor, and with a dramatic flair, the child flung herself into Violetâs lap, burying her face into the soft folds of Violetâs dark night dress.
Looking down at her sister, Violetâs expression melted into one of pure affection. Her hands moved instinctively, stroking Crystalâs back in slow, comforting circles. "Shh..." she whispered gently. "It was just a dream... Whatever it was, you're safe here."
Crystalâs small head lifted from Violetâs lap, her large blue eyes shimmering like sapphires, tears brimming in their depths.â I miss home..â she said between soft whimpersâ I miss mamaâŚâ her lip quivered as she attempted to speak.
Violet offered her a reassuring smile, her hands stroked her hair softly before pulling her up into her lap. Cradling Crystal between her legs she relaxed back against the window as she continued to play with her hair.
âDon't worry, we will be heading back to her any day nowâŚâ she whispered. Her fingers fed through her hair combing her fingers through her hair.
Sniffling Crystal relaxed in her lap, reaching over to pull the blanket over her and Violet's lap. It was one Violet had made for the trip, hand-woven with embroidered ravens and black roses enterlaced amongst the fabric. Crystal traced the pattern with her finger.
â What about a song?â Violet asked softly, still combing her hair with her fingers.
Crystal didnât respond, only her tiny whimpers and her small hands as she grabbed the blanket relaxing into Violet's arms.
Smiling softly, Violet's silver eyes looked down at the Raven on the blanket. Reminding her of a song she found in an old book she had finished recently.
Clearing her throat, Violet began to sing. Her voice was soft but her pitch and tone were near perfect. She always had the natural ability to sing but always shied away from doing it. She didnât enjoy the attention it brought. She knew it was one of Crystal's favorite things, it always worked to calm her down.
Ă gegnum Ăžokuna og storminn flĂ˝g ĂŠg, Svartir vĂŚngir skera Ă gegnum himininn, FrĂĄ frosnum lĂśndum, Ăžar sem Ăsvindarnir vĂŚla, Ăg ber hvĂsliĂ°, hina fornu sĂśgu.
ĂĂśglir skuggar um nĂłttina, Leiddu hina fĂśllnu til endalauss ljĂłss, AugnarĂĄĂ° ĂĂ°ins ĂĄ vĂŚngina mĂna, Ăg syng lagiĂ° sem ĂśrlĂśgin bera meĂ° sĂŠr.
While Violet sang crystal had fallen into her, her eyes falling heavy as she continued to stroke her hair.
Heyr kall mitt Ă gegnum myrkvaĂ°an himininn, HrafnsĂłp Ăžar sem hinir fĂśllnu liggja, Ă sĂślum guĂ°anna rĂsum viĂ° upp aftur, Ă vĂŚngjum nĂŚtur ferĂ°umst viĂ° um frĂŚĂ°ina. Valhalla bĂĂ°ur, Ăžar sem hugrĂśkk hjĂśrtu svĂfa, SĂśngur hrafnsins aĂ° eilĂfu....
Through the mist and raging storm I soar, Wings of midnight, shadows roar, Across the frozen fjords where the ice winds wail, I carry the echoes of an ancient tale.
I am the silent shadow of the night, Guiding souls in Odinâs sight, The fallen rise beneath my wings, To the sound of the song that destiny brings. Hear my call through the blackened skies,
A ravenâs cry where the brave ones lie, In the halls of the gods, we rise once more, On wings of night, we reclaim the lore. Valhalla waits, where the warriors soar, The ravenâs song forevermore.
Smiling softly, her voice trailed off into the quiet of the room, the last note of her lullaby fading into the stillness. The small girl in her arms slept peacefully, her tiny breaths steady and warm against Violetâs chest. Gently, she cradled the child closer, feeling the rise and fall of her fragile frame, safe and sheltered in her embrace. A soft sigh escaped Violetâs lips, barely more than a whisper. She would do anything for her familyâanything. Yet, on nights like this, a small ache settled in her heart, a quiet yearning she could never quite silence.
There were days she selfishly longed for someone to hold her with the same tenderness, to take care of her as she cared for others. Her parents, always consumed by their own concerns and worries devoted their energy to looking after Crystal. And though Violet never resented them for itâshe understood, truly she didâit still left an emptiness, a quiet space in her heart that begged for more.
Her gaze drifted to the worn book that lay beside her on the bedside table. With one hand, she reached for it, careful not to disturb the sleeping child in her arms. The pages were soft with age, familiar beneath her fingertips as she opened it to her favorite passage. The words, etched into her memory, offered her the comfort she sought.
At least for now. â----------------------- Present Day...
Her fingers glided across the worn cover of the book, tracing its edges as if the touch alone could conjure the memories held within. The familiar texture beneath her fingertips stirred something deep insideâa quiet, aching nostalgia. Each stroke brought her closer to what she had once dreamed, what she had once hoped for. But those dreams seemed far away now. With a sigh, she lifted the book and placed it back above her desk, where it had long rested, gathering dust like an artifact from a forgotten time. The layer of dust was thick, an unspoken testament to how long it had been since she'd last opened it.
Perhaps she had given up on it. The idea of her dreamâof a life where hope still flickeredâwas something she had slowly buried. She had resigned herself to facing the brutal reality of her existence. No matter how much she longed to escape it, life had a way of reminding her of what she had become.
Her eyes drifted toward the mirror, and the reflection that stared back was unforgiving. Her gaze fixated on the scar that marred her face, a jagged line that had long become the focal point of her appearance. Her red eyes followed its path, tracing down to her neck. The scar was not just a mark on her skinâit was a symbol of what the world had made of her. The world had cast her as a victim, but she refused to play that role.
Her hand trembled as it reached up, her fingertips hovering over the scar. Slowly, she touched it, as if to remind herself that it was realâthat she was real. The skin beneath her fingers felt both foreign and familiar, a constant reminder of the life she now lived. As her fingers traced the scar, she felt the weight of all she had lost, and the pain of what she had become.
âFor us scars are beautiful, they show others the hardships one has gone through and make them stronger for it. My people don't crave strength, we honor survival above all else, and scars are survival.â making sure to look her in the eye for a moment, âyour scars are beautiful, they are you. They aren't going anywhere and whoever says that you are tarnished doesn't know what the fu-... What they are talking about.â
Romanâs voice echoed through her mind, a haunting refrain that clung to her thoughts like an unwanted shadow. His words, though distant, seemed to pull at something inside her, as if trying to plant a reminder of something sheâd forgottenâor perhaps had never fully understood. The memories felt so distant now like they belonged to another life entirely. Or maybe it was just her, unable to grasp the meaning behind it all. Maybe she was the only one who didnât know what the hell she was talking about anymore.
A small, bitter smile curled at the corners of her lips as her gaze fell to the blank sheet of paper lying before her on the desk. She had been waiting, hoping, that Roman would have reached out to her by now. A letter, a message, something to bridge the silence that had stretched between them since that night. But nothing came. And with that silence grew a quiet, gnawing fearâa fear that perhaps he didnât want to see her again. After all, he had seen herâthe real herâand the night had ended in such darkness, leaving a bitter taste in the air. Her mind continued to spiral, debating back and forth as she wrestled with her thoughts. Survival, she reminded herself, trying to steady her pulse. It always came back to that. With a deep breath, she dipped the quill into the ink, the tip hovering above the paper before finally pressing down. She began to write, though the words came slowly. The letter was vague and short, lacking the conviction she wanted it to hold. Still, it was somethingâa branch extended in hope. She just prayed he would take it.
As the hours passed since they last saw each other, she could feel herself slipping deeper into a familiar darkness, one that taunted her from the corners of her mind. It was growing stronger, consuming her in ways that made it difficult to think clearly. The memory of that night in the forest loomed over herâhow everything had unraveled in the shadows, the silent ride back to her manor afterward. The cold grip of revenge clung to her, intertwining with the dangerous apathy she felt toward death. Her mind drifted toward the endless cycle of violence, a need for vengeance that threatened to swallow her whole.
She was worriedâworried that maybe she was already too far gone.
The Princess really was a peculiar princess. Whenever sheâd heard stories or tales, princesses were rarely so carefree. But, then again, those had just been stories. That classic idea of a princess. This princess liked to sit in laps and be touched. She had to wonder if it was a reflection of her royal-class upbringing being too strict or stiff? Perhaps something else.
Thoughts Stratya might have had, were she sober.
By the time sheâd actually taken her seat, the alcohol from her first super cocktail was really starting to hit. Sheâd noticed it, before, but now it had had the time to really get into her system. Ooh, that really was strong.
â... because you could totally just ask, silly.â
Separate from the flush of alcohol on her cheeks, the Knight's ears reddened. Did the princess practically just invite her? Pretty much. The village woman in her was star-struck, but the military woman knew she had to respond. Both were drunk. âLitâle ol' me? Hehe, oye, if ye puâ iâ thaâ way,â with a short glance at Farim, she offered him a reassuring smile, âmighâ I join yâ game, Prrincess?â
When Drake mentioned Charlotte, and following Stratyaâs small compliment to the Lady, she looked and caught that strained smile on the Princessâs face. How strange. Did they not get along? It didnât seem to her like there should be any reason for it, but, lacking sobriety, the thought left her mind quickly when Drake took his tumble. âSeems like heâs ok, Prince Callum âas âim.â
A certain suggestion caught her ear, and she snapped her attention away from Drake, to look across at the man with the deck of cards. âNow? Here?â Before she could say much else about it, a familiar-sounding woman invited the man with the cards aside for a conversation. Stratya sighed and said, absentmindedly and to herself but probably audible, âas if tâ wanderinâ âands weren' bad enough.â
It gladdened the knight to see her jeer was so effective. Victoria was speechless, the Princess was giggling, and then Duke Lorenzo contributed. Sheâd held her stare-down of Victoria steady, through the Princessâs giggling, but when Lorenzo contributed, her reaction was.. layered.
First, he proclaimed that it would be a crime. In response to this, Stratya turned to look at him, intrigued and, actually, mostly, confused. A crime? What the f-
ââŚstinkiest feet in the kingdomâŚâ
There hadn't been enough time to turn to him fully. Stratya lurched forward as her abdomen tightened, falling right out of her intimidation pose. Her crossed foot thumped to the ground, she pressed a hand to her lips and leaned on her knee with her elbow, containing herself, just getting down the cocktail sheâd sipped before Lorenzo got the kicker out,
â⌠Week-old Royal Curd CheeseâŚâ
She turned to the table and put her drink down before she spilled it. Laughter seeped past her hold as she, too, doubled over laughing. She looked up at the Princess, looking to share in the mirth together.
Then Victoria decided to try damage control, If anyone doubts me, you're welcome to sniff my feet yourselves!"
âN-na-hahahh, noo-hoho hooh-noo~ooo! Kee-heheh-eep them on, fâr Godsâ sakes, eeeee-heheh-, for evârryoneâs hehehealth anâ say-heehee-fety! Eeee~heheheh, hmhmhmhm!â Her other, gloved hand slapped over her knees before pressing over her mouth, as well. Shaking from suppressed laughter, Stratya came out of her chair carefully, taking a knee and planting a fist on the ground to steady herself, one hand still pressed over her mouth. The humor began to fade away, âhoooh.. hoo, hoho.. hweuuh..â and she placed a hand on her chest and shook her other, as though to shake off the humor physically. Gathered, the Captain resumed her seat.
Panting, calming herself, the knight gazed at the cocktail sheâd set down, âI- hehe- tâink âese cocktails are whaâs goâ me, Prrincess. Heheh. 'Ere pretây strrong, enough ta take tâ fun ouâa drrinkinâ, ey-hehe? Iâd rrather âave thrree or fou-our pints oâ mead. Yâwonâ black oot afâer jusâ an âour, thaâ way, but tâese coloâful tâingsâll do ye in, they will. Think I betâer eat sometâin.â The plates of food on the table drew her attention, though somewhere in the back of her mind, she considered the seating arrangement sheâd been assigned. Somewhere, but nowhere she noticed. She grabbed some beef rib(!), some sweet potato, a bit of cheese, and turned to catch a passing servantâs attention, âcoulâ I botâer yâ ta bring some oâ âat fruiâ, covered in chocâla'e, please?â She slipped a few coins over and offered a smile.
E D W A R D S E S T A T E | M O R N I N G I n t e r a c t i o n s : Wulfric @SilverPaw M e n t i o n s : Rohit
Nahir made a mental note of the list Wulfric had provided to Rohit, storing it away for future amusement. Lady Suhasani, in particular, would adore the Seaside Heaven Resort. And she could already feel Eceâs excitement when gambling was mentioned. Perhaps a little outing with her ladies-in-waiting would be the perfect break. It had been far too long since they spent quality time together.
She had just raised her glass to her lips when Wulfric spoke again. His words made her pause, and after a brief glance at the prince, she placed her cocktail back on the table. "A shame, really," she murmured, her eyes scanning the busy servers hurrying around with trays of cocktails. Had they known what was in the drinks? Or were they just as unaware, caught in the trap of this chaotic scene? Spiking a drink to humiliate certain nobles was understandableâalmost expected in some cases when the servants were treated badlyâbut all of them?
This spoke volumes to the common folk's feelings toward Edwards and the family, and to do so in the presence of such high-ranking nobles. Were the people of Caesonia dissatisfied with the ruling class?
Nahir had been looking forward to a simple evening of sitting back and savoring Caesonian delicacies. But left and right, nobles were now giggling, gossiping, and swaying drunkenly as though they were common folk.
âWhat a farse,â
He had read her mind, but Nahir gave no indication of whether she agreed or disagreed. She simply took a bite of her salmon roll, her gaze fixed on the scene unfolding around them. Her eyes lingered on Charlotte and the Damien bastard, both of whom were lying on the grass like fools as the chaos slowly unfolded around the,. And yet, they seemed strangely at peace in that moment. A pang of something familiar tugged at her chest, but she quickly turned her attention back to the prince as he addressed her once more.
âI wouldnât mind a change of scenery,â Nahir replied with a soft smile. âDuchess Victoria handled it with as much grace as one could, considering she dared others to smell her feet to prove her âun-cheesiness.â If her husband had not interfered, I wager she would have been the first to lose it. I thought Lord Drake would come second, but he took his fall graciously.â As gracefully as one could. The absurdity of the whole thing had nearly made her lose her composure. Now, as she recalled the spectacle, she took another sip of her orange juice to hide her amusement.
It was always easier to laugh at others than at oneself.
âDuke Edwards certainly knows how to handle her,â Nahir remarked, giving a knowing nod. âBut if we are to relocate, what sort of entertainment would Your Highness prefer?â Her fingers toyed absently with the glass of juice, but she set it down as she felt her left hand stiffen ever so slightly. Not wanting to draw attention to her discomfort, she quickly added, âIâve heard wonderful things about the opera house in Sorian.â The words flowed smoothly, masking the frustration she felt with her own body.
E D W A R D S E S T A T E | M O R N I N G I n t e r a c t i o n s : Ariella @Tpartywithzombi M e n t i o n s :
âAnd how is Miss Alberta, Lord Wimsley? Oh, I havenât seen her since the passing of good old Lord Trang.â The elderly womanâs voice, laced with concern, crackled with the weight of time, her eyes widening in expectation.
âAh wellâŚâ Mathias began, but before he could continue, the old woman raised a hand, cutting him off with exaggerated dramatics.
âDo not tell me! She must be heartbroken! Oh, her poor soul! She must have shut herself away in her studio, no doubt.â With a pained sigh, the woman pressed her wrinkled hand to her heart, eyes fluttering shut as if summoning the strength of the gods. âIâve prayed to the heavens for her and for dear Lord Trang,â she added, dipping her head with a slight tremble, offering a reverent moment of silence. But barely a heartbeat later, she sprang back to life. âLord Wimsley, I heard you were meant to travel west to Varian... wait, are you not supposed to be there now?â Her aged eyes squinted, deep creases at the corners crinkling further as she peered at him, suspiciously scanning his face.
Panic surged in Mathiasâs chest like a flood. âNo... of course not. Iâve sent my valet in advance to prepare the house for me,â he said quickly, forcing a laugh that came out far too awkward. His gaze darted desperately around, searching for an escape. If he simply walked away, surely the woman would cause a scene, and the last thing he needed was unwanted attention. âLadyââ
âGood evening!â
The sudden interruption came like a lifeline, and Mathias barely suppressed a sigh of relief.
âOh, Lady Ariella! Youâve grown so big! I remember when you used to barely reach my knee. Such a lovely face you had back then,â the old woman cooed, her tone nostalgic, though she squinted further as if unsure of her own memory.
Mathias glanced skyward, silently questioning her greetingâit wasnât anywhere near evening. But he bit his tongue as he turned to face the familiar figure of Ariella. Ariella! It wasnât recognition that filled her eyesâhis ridiculous disguise had worked far too well. Or⌠was it the unmistakable scent of alcohol clinging to her that had muddled her senses?
âGood evening, my lady,â he greeted her with a polite bow, masking his concern as she stumbled toward him. His entire frame tensed, bracing to steady her if needed, though he remained frozen in place to avoid toppling over himself. As she righted herself, the sharp smell of liquor hit him full force. Had she really been drinking this much, this early? He frowned slightly, worry knitting his brows together, but he held his tongueâfurther awkwardness was the last thing either of them needed.
âYou may be right,â Mathias mused, though he struggled to follow the erratic thread of conversation, âOr perhaps she was simply born that way. My own father, for instance, wears the most comfortable shoes but acts like he might as well be teetering in six-inch heels with a corset tight enough to cut off circulationââ His attempt at humor faltered slightly as his lips twitched, feeling lighter than before.
âOh! Lord Wimsley, your hair just fell!â The elderly womanâs gasp broke through the conversation like a crack of thunder. She stepped back, her eyes widening in shock as she looked down at the fallen clump of horsehair that had once been a part of his mustache. âWhat a curious thing,â she remarked, bending slightly as the wind gently carried the fake hair across the ground.
Mathias blinked, staring in disbelief at the sight of his mustache now floating serenely on the breeze. One, two, three, four hairs drifted away with graceful elegance, almost poetic in the way they danced through the air, as if mocking his predicament. For a moment, no one spoke until the morning breeze finally whisked the remaining fake mustache out of sight, carrying it away like a leaf in the wind.
Mathias blinked at the sight of his mustache, now floating serenely in the breeze, as if mocking his predicament. âAhâŚâ he began, feeling his face flush, but quickly regained his composure. âYou know me, my lady,â he said with a strained grin, âI must keep up with the youth!â He glanced toward Ariella, his smile turning nervous as he silently begged her to go along with the absurdity of the moment.
Attire:Black/Green Coat, Black Dress Pants, and Black Shoes Time: Morning of the 25th Location: Edwards Estate Mentions: Victoria, Callum @helo, and Ariella @tpartywithzombi
The commotion had more or less come to a stop - at least in the main area in front of the stage. Looking around there was a slight frown on Drakeâs face. He had conflicted feelings about the revelry that had broken out. On one hand, the people were having fun and enjoying themselves. Occasions such as this are, in his mind, meant to spread joy and merriment. But he still felt as if this would end up crashing back on their public image - one that he knew his father had done so much to try and maintain. To a degree his mother had as well, but the one who always had to deal with their antics was the Duke himself.
His attention was brought back as Callum had accepted his offer of a drink, and Drake thought that for the moment it would be best to clear his head a little more before he said or did anything drastic. He already made a fool of himself and as best as he did to mediate it - he was sure people would boast and guffaw about it in the next morningâs paper. Seeing his father had yet again taken control of his rampant mother, and that his sister had gone off to socialize with other guests - likely to avoid having a meltdown over their argument - Drake guided the Prince to the open bar - where he would unknowingly partake in a comparatively softer drink than what he had prior.
With a polite wave he motioned for Callum to take a seat where he would please. âStart us off with two whiskeys please - take it from the double-aged oak please.â He nodded to the bartender who prepared two glasses. A perfectly circular ball of ice was placed in each glass before the man reached up above him to grab a large bottle of what could only be the aforementioned whiskey. A pop of the cork on the bottle and the rich tones would fill the air as the bartender poured their drinks and slid them across the counter towards them. He gave the pair a bow and resumed serving the nearby crowd that was beginning to grow as the number of inebriated patrons rose.
Drake turned to the Prince with a smile, swirling the drink in his hand as he spoke aloud. âForgive me, Prince Callum. I know my mother can be a handful - so Iâm thankful you took her criticism in stride. There was a time she wasnât soâŚ.ornery. Or maybe itâs taken me this long to see it for myself. But ahh, letâs not dwell too much on it.â He takes a sip of the fine beverage - letting it fully slide down his throat before throwing his next statement at the man. âIâd actually love to talk with you a little more about you and Ariella if it isnât too out of place. What exactly might your intentions with her be?â He shot Callum a smile - friendly enough to imply he wasnât going to make a scene if something bad were to be said. But he was Ariellaâs bigger brother after all, it only felt natural for him to poke even just a little bit into her potential suitors. If the way she had been acting with Callum had hinted at anything - it would be that her favorite such suitor would be the man sharing a drink with him right now.
When she first saw Lady Morrigan alone with the newborn in His Highnessâs chambers, she feared for his life. A member of the castle staff, she knew well the cruel reputation that preceded Morrigan. So vile was she that not even her parents could bring themselves to love her.
But was her heart so dark, her mind so twisted, that sheâd harm her own cousinâs firstborn son out of envy? As she stood, frozen in indecision, the vixenâs claws reached for the baby⌠and caressed him with impossible tenderness, as if he were spun from the finest glass. âYouâre so beautiful,â Morrigan whispered, then broke into tears.
This wasnât the Morrigan Danrose she knew.
I. The execution: Year 1714, Aurea
His mother had chosen one of the small side balconies on the highest floor for them to settle in. She enjoyed the secrecy, and was especially cautious against exposing the young prince to the attention of too many wandering eyes. Meanwhile, his father was making a speech on a grand central balcony a floor below. Wulfric could hear him, but not quite see.
âWhatâs going on?â The little prince whined, squirming in his chair. Though the seat had been elevated, there was still a big stupid wall right in front of him, obscuring most of his vision. He stretched his neck and sat up, but no matter the struggle, he couldnât get the view he wanted. He shifted, and was starting to climb up onto the chair when his mother turned to him.
âSettle down, dear child,â she said from where she sat adjacent to him. She looked at him with subtle adoration, but her tone was firm enough for Wulfric to know she meant it. Still, he was about to push it, but then she added, âOr need I hold you?â
âNo!â He scowled, cheeks puffing angrily. He sat back down, properly as a prince should, but vigorously drummed his small legs against the chair, once, twice, thrice. âIâm not a baby,â he insisted to his mother, trying to show her that he could stay put. âBut I wanna see!â he added a complaint.
âYou will be able to see soon, itâs almost starting,â she tried to reassure calmly, and reached out a hand to smooth down his hair.
He huffed, and stilled for a moment despite his frustration. He couldnât see, that was the problem.
Adults. They never understood.
Impulsively, Wulfric jumped down from the chair, and ran up to that wall. He put his hands against the cool brick, and tilted his head back. It was so high up, and all smooth. He couldnât climb this. He snuck a glance at his mother. He could ask her for help, but then itâd look like he couldnât do anything by himself.
Instead, he turned to one of the other adults present; a guard. He went to the armoured person, and called out, âHey! You there!â Wulfric imitated how his father spoke and acted. Especially on a three-year old, the attempts at imperiousness made for a very demanding child.
As he beckoned the man closer, the knight approached, and went down on one knee. That made him easier to talk to, so the prince nodded, and set his balled fists at his hips. He wouldnât tell anyone, but he thought the knights with their helmets on were kind of scary. He couldnât see their eyes or faces, so he never knew what was there. Still, he showed no fear or shyness, and said, âShow me your face.â
The man obeyed, and raised his visor. He was still a stranger, but after asking who he was, he replied, âGlenn Reid, Your Highness.â
âGlenn.â The child pointed at the top of the railing. âI want,â he said slowly, so the man would understand, âto be up there.â Often, just saying he wanted something would get him that.
However, the knight glanced towards his mother. Wulfric did the same, and seeing her reaction, he knew what the manâs answer would be. âSorry, Prince Wulfric, but that would be too dangerous.â
The prince pouted. âThen destroy it!â The knight gave him a very strange look, but it made sense, didnât it? If the wall was in the way, it had to be removed.
âThat, er, even if I could, itâd compromise the structural integrityâŚâ the flustered man answered.
The child cocked his head to the side. âWhatâs that mean?â he questioned.
Recovering from his shock, Reid realized his initial words were too complex for someone that young, and said instead, âIt canât be destroyed, because it belongs to the king.â
Wulfric absorbed that, but almost immediately, he accused, âThatâs not what you said! Tell me what you said!â
And thus began a back-and-forth wherein the prince was distracted by learning three new words. Once he understood their meaning, and knew their sound (he couldnât pronounce them, but he still tried because he liked them), he started pestering the poor knight on the whys, why nots, and hows of rebuilding the balcony. His mother was content to watch on, choosing not to interfere.
âWhatâs the fuss?â To the distracted Wulfric, the sudden arrival of the king was a surprise.
Though Edin had been glaring at the knight, his son drew the kingâs attention. âFather, father! I want to watch from there!â He pointed at the railing. His parents looked at each other; father was angry, mother was expressionless.
Instead of an argument breaking out, however, Edin gave a huff, and gleefully looked towards his son. âThatâs why I wanted you to get the best spot.â Confused, Wulfric glanced at his mother; did she get them a bad one?
However, it didnât seem the king was in a mood to climb any more stairs. After a quick look around, he said, âWell, then, simply have your chair pushed over there, and stand on it.â
That was a good solution, but, âPapa,â Wulfric began, utterly serious despite the instinctive slip into a more juvenile form of address. âA prince shouldnât climb on fur-ni-ture.â He worded this carefully, but it was a phrase heâd heard often enough to repeat.
For a moment, Edin was startled. Then he broke into a huge grin, and chortled. âWhat a good, clever lad you are. Look what a clever boy he is! Takes after his father, he does,â he announced to the group of people nearby - the smartly quiet servants and his unimpressed wife.
âYouâre great, father!â Wulfric agreed, returning the beaming smile.
Thoroughly pleased, Edin seemed to have another wonderful idea. âYou,â he pointed at one of the servants whoâd come up with him. âMove over,â he gestured where he wanted him. The man appeared perplexed, but obeyed. âNow, go down.â The servant blinked in confusion, but Edin snapped, âDown!â and he immediately kneeled. The king scoffed, and said, âAll fours.â There was a beat of hesitation caused by perplexity, but then the man did as ordered.
Wulfric looked from the servant to the king, similarly bewildered. His father just laughed, and slyly noted, âWell, he isnât furniture, now is he?â
Wonderment overtook the princeâs expression. âHuman horsie!â He exclaimed cheerfully, clapping his hands together. âThatâs amazing!â he told his father. âThanks!â he said, but was already running up to the stationary servant to climb up on him. âStay still,â he told the man after heâd clambered onto the man, who kept shifting in minor discomfort.
âCareful!â his mother called out sharply when she saw Wulfric so very close to danger. âI will be,â he called back, but kept his eyes peeled on the scene in front of him.
Finally, finally, Wulfric could see it all. The largest balcony where his father must have been; it was filled with flags of yellow and blue, and the symbol he knew was his familyâs. But what drew his attention were all the people. He had never seen so many people! The stadium was packed full. Theyâd all gathered here to watch something; to see whatever was going on down there. After getting his fill of absorbing the numerous citizens, the prince decided to watch what they all were.
In the middle of a big open space, tall guards wearing shiny armor stood all around a raised platform. On that platform, two strong-looking men were holding down another man wrapped in heavy chains. The chained man wriggled and shouted.
A lady stepped up onto the stage. She had on a dress as white as snow and a long floaty veil. In her hand she carried a large axe that looked like it was straight out of a storybook, with all sorts of fancy patterns on it. Even though she wore a silver mask that looked like another ladyâs face, Wulfric knew right away that it was Morrigan. Because when she saw him, she started waving at him, and sent him flying kisses.
Wulfric gave a small wave back. Morrigan turned to the people, asking them something. Many voices yelled back, saying things like, âYes!â and âKill him!â and âOff with his head!â Some were just shouting, and some started thumping their feet into the ground. The beating in his chest was getting louder too, and the child put a hand against it to feel it.
As much of a racket as theyâd been making, they started to quiet down as Morrigan swung the weapon through the air. The chained man was forced to kneel, and his head was placed over a wooden block. His cousin had a huge happy grin on her face. She struck, just the once. It happened so fast, he almost couldnât follow it - one moment, the axe was up there, the next it was all the way down, lodged into the block. A streak of red was gushing everywhere, staining the axe, splattering onto the floor, getting all over Morriganâs dress. Now, it wasnât pure white anymore.
But she was laughing, and first, she showed off her bloody axe. Then, she reached down. The body - the man was missing his head. There was red all over him too. His head had rolled into the bucket by the wooden block. Morrigan picked it up, then held it high above her own head, so everyone could see. Cheers erupted all around, and it was even louder than before.
Wulfric was too absorbed to be bothered by the loud sounds, however. He stared at that pool of red. The headless man was still oozing his lifeâs essence, rivulets of blood streaming down from his felled body to accumulate on the floor. It dripped from his head, his severed neck. Crimson was spreading all over. It stained the grounds, and continued to grow.
Drip.
Drop.
Splatter.
Even as the head was dropped, rolling around with wet plops, the blood was still spewing forth.
Red was everywhere. Taking over everything. Yet still it expanded, seeking to fill each nook and cranny. Eager to conquer every manâs heart. More. More.More. Never enough.
Just how much was there?
TLDR: At three years of age, Wulfric has a pleasant family outing. It just so happens to feature an execution. Heâs a bit of a brat, but whatâd you expect?
Time: Morning Location: Edward's Estate Interaction:@princess@PapaOso Cassius, Charlotte Mention: Draaaake
Lorenzo let out a sigh followed by a low grumble as Charlotte attempted to aid him. She even pulled Cassius into the matter, stating that the young man could help carry the gifts. How many were there? Two? No⌠Benjamin has one! Lorenzo sighed once more.
âWe need to find Benjamin. Benjamin⌠He has the third gift⌠He holds the key to making this day the most memorable in Lord Drake Edwardsâ life.â Lorenzo struck his fist down on the table as a way to push himself to commit to deliberate action. He couldn't let himself sink into drunkenness! Not yet! âRed and white⌠Those are the wrapping paper colors⌠I used for the first two gifts⌠Mhm. Those. I have to.â Lorenzo struck the tabletop again! âI must stand⌠I must get to the parked carriage.â
Rising to his feet again is when the well-dressed duke truly felt the effects of all of the alcohol he had consumed. He took a moment to look to turn his body, swiveling to get a feel for his coordination. It was terrible. Add the fact that he'd have to walk on grass.
Also add the fact that he had to walk through the party scene.
Oh, you're not done. Now, add the fact that he might pass his enemies going to and from the carriage.
âLottie, I'm afraid you and your⌠Cassius? UghâŚâ Lorenzo hadn't even looked at either of them in an attempt to focus his mind while he laid out the plan. Despite his attempts to compose himself, his slurring grew worse. âYou sshould both head to the pile of giftsss ovâr there⌠One is red⌠one isss white. JustâŚ.â Lorenzo shut his eyes for a moment in an attempt to find the words he needed to continue on. âJusst look fâr my name in them and Iâll go⌠Iâll go to the carriage myself. I⌠I must do it alone. I am⌠Duke- no. I am King Vikena. King Vikena can do anything.â His first few steps lacked finesse, appearing as if he was too dizzy to walk. All it took was for him to find a straight path for him to stick to, and with that, Lorenzo was moving with some level of stability. Still his facial expression appeared as if he was performing the most arduous task.
The warm, sunlit streets of Erwynn buzzed with life, filled with vendors hawking their goods, children playing, and the scent of spices hanging thick in the air. It was the kind of place that set Cassiusâs blood on fire, the kind of place where freedom felt tangible. The city seemed to hum with energy, inviting him to explore its corners and crevices. Cassius, all lanky limbs and restless energy, stood at the mouth of the alley with his back against the wall, his storm-gray eyes scanning the crowd with excitement.
But that excitement faded fast as his mother approached, her soft voice pulling him out of his daydream.
âLittle Bear,â Meredithâs tone was gentle but firm, her fingers brushing through his hair, trying to tame the wild mess as best she could. Cassius rolled his eyes, ducking his head a little to avoid the fussing, but there was a small smile on his lips. He loved his mother, but he wasnât a child anymore.
âI need you to take Dom with you today,â she said, her words slicing through his excitement like a blade. âHeâs younger, and his mother needs help with him while the rest of us are setting up for the show.â
Cassius groaned, already seeing the day slipping away from him. âBut Mom, I..."
âNo buts, Cassius,â she interrupted, her voice softening as she cupped his face in her hands, her thumb brushing over the scar forming across his brow. âYouâre getting older now. Itâs time you started looking out for others, not just yourself. I know itâs not always fun, but responsibility isnât always supposed to be fun.â She smiled at him, warmth in her eyes. "Youâre rough around the edges, you know that as well as I do, but we both know that you're a good boy. I trust you to keep him safe. That means something, son."
He huffed, still not thrilled, but there was something about the way she said it that made him straighten his back a little, even if he didnât want to admit it. âFine, fine. Iâll take him. But if he canât keep up, itâs on him.â
Meredith chuckled and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek before turning to leave. Cassius ran a hand through his already messy hair, muttering under his breath as he made his way toward where little Domino was playing, his small form crouched over, examining a line of ants on the ground.
"Dom!" Cassius called out, a hint of impatience in his voice. "Letâs go. Youâre coming with me."
Domino, the little Alidasht boy with dark, eager eyes and a smile too big for his face, practically jumped up, running over with his sandals flopping against the cobblestones. âWhere we go, Cas?â His thick accent twisted the words, but the excitement was more than clear in his voice as he looked up at the older boy.
"Wherever I go, kid. But you better keep up, alright?" Cassius shot him a half-hearted glare, already turning to stride off into the crowd. Dom practically danced after him, struggling to match his pace, his small legs pumping hard to keep up.
Cassius tried to act annoyed, but there was a part of him that found the kidâs boundless enthusiasm amusing, if not a little endearing. Dom didnât speak much of the common tongue, but he managed to talk Cassiusâs ear off about anything and everything as they walked. Each new sight and sound seemed to fill him with wonder...every stall, every shout from a vendor, every new corner they turned.
"Stop lagging behind, Dom," Cassius grumbled when Dom paused to look at a stray cat slinking through the shadows. He kept walking, his long legs carrying him swiftly ahead, though he couldnât stop the small smirk that tugged at his lips when Dom scampered after him, almost tripping over his own feet.
They wandered through the cityâs winding streets, Cassius showing Dom how to move through the crowds without drawing attention, how to swipe a piece of fruit from a stand when the vendor wasnât looking. It was a game to Cas, one heâd perfected over the years. Dom tried to mimic him, his small hands clumsy at first, but his determination shone through. After a few attempts, he managed to snag an apple without anyone noticing, and Cassius clapped him on the back, more proud than he let on.
"I do good, Cas?" The kid asked, obviously eager for Cas's approval
"Not bad, Dom," Cassius said, biting into his own stolen fruit. "You might just survive the day after all."
Dom grinned, beaming up at him like heâd just won the biggest prize in the world.
But just as they turned into a narrow alley, the tone of their day shifted. It was subtle at first, the way the shadows seemed to grow longer, the air colder despite the sun still hanging high. Cassius noticed a figure standing at the other end of the alley, waiting. A man with dark eyes and a twisted smile.
"Thereâs my boy!" the man called out to Dom, his voice sickly sweet. "Itâs time to come home, son."
Cassius froze, his stomach turning. He didn't know Dom's family well, but he knew that the kidâs dad had died a few years back, and that his mother had been raising him on her own. The man stepped forward, his gaze locked on Dom.
Cassiusâs instincts flared, and he shifted in front of Dom, his voice low and urgent. "We need to go. Now."
He grabbed Dom's hand, pulling him back the way theyâd come, but the man followed. âHey! Stop!â he barked, his voice harsh now, the sweetness gone. "Thatâs my son!"
They spun, ready to fleeâŚbut another figure loomed in their path. This man was broader, his face shadowed by a cruel grin.
Trapped.
Cassiusâs pulse quickened as he realized they were boxed in. His grip tightened on Dom's hand as fear coursed through him. They were cornered, the weight of responsibility crashing down on him with brutal clarity.
"Let the kid go," one of the men snarled, stepping forward. "You can walk away. No need for anyone to get hurt."
Cassius swallowed hard, his body trembling. "No," he said, his voice weak but defiant. "Heâs not going with you."
Dom was clinging to him now, his small hands shaking. Cassius looked down at the boyâs wide, terrified eyes, his mind racing.
One of the men pulled a knife, and Cassius's breath caught in his throat. "Last chance." The man said, the blade glinting in the low light.
Cassiusâs hands shook as they clenched into fists, his whole body trembling from fear and adrenaline. "You... youâre not taking him." He stammered, his voice cracking. He wasnât even sure if he could fight, not with his legs trembling like this, but he couldnât back down. His body was telling him to run, but something elseâŚsomething desperate and terrified kept him rooted to the spot. Please... please go away⌠He begged in his mind.
And just like that, Cas bolted, holding on to Dom's hand for dear life. But before they could get far, the men lunged. The next moments were a blur of chaos and violence. One man grabbed for Dom, but Cassius shoved him back, kicking and punching wildly. The other man swung his knife, catching Cassius across the arm, the sharp sting of the blade barely registering through the haze of panic.
Cassius flailed with desperation, arms swinging, legs kicking, barely aiming his strikes. His breaths came in ragged gasps, each one sharper than the last as he scrambled to find anythingâŚanythingâŚto fight them off. His hand latched onto a broken bottle, and he swung it clumsily, more out of panic than skill.
His heart pounded in his ears, his vision narrowing. Donât let them get youâŚdonât let them take him! He kicked a loose barrel, sending it crashing into one manâs legs. He grabbed a broken piece of wood, swinging it at the other manâs face. But they kept coming, the knife flashing again, cutting across his chest, then his side.
Blood smeared his shirt, and pain throbbed through his ribs with every shaky breath, but he couldnât stop. I canât... I canât let them win. Tears pricked the edges of his vision, blurring everything around him as he swung chaotically, fighting more like a wild animal than a human. His hands stung from where his knuckles had split open, but he barely noticed it. His whole world was a blur of panic and blood, his body moving on its own. Please... let this endâŚI donât want them to take the kid.
One of the men tackled him to the ground, pinning him down, the knife raised high. Cassius struggled, his arms shaking as he held the manâs wrist, trying to keep the blade away from his throat. Tears burned in his eyes, terror clawing at his insides as he felt his strength slipping.
Then, by some stroke of fate, the manâs grip on the knife faltered. It clattered to the ground beside Cassiusâs head. Desperation surged through him. With a scream, he grabbed the knife, and as the man lunged again, Cassius thrust the blade upward, driving it into the manâs chest.
Time seemed to stop.
The manâs eyes widened in shock, his body convulsing before going still, slumping forward onto Cassius. The weight of the man, of what heâd just done, pressed down on him, suffocating him. Cassius struggled to push the man off, his hands slick with blood...both his own and the manâs.
The second man, realizing what had happened, took one look at the bloodied scene and bolted, disappearing into the shadows without a word.
Cassius was left panting, trembling, his body aching. Every inch of him shook uncontrollably as he shoved the limp body off him. He stared at his bloodied hands for a moment, blinking in disbelief. Did I really justâŚ
A sob choked out of him, and he quickly wiped his face with the back of his arm. Get up. Get up! He forced himself to crawl toward Dom, who was curled up in the corner, trembling just as badly as he was. âItâs... itâs over,â Cassius whispered, though his own voice wavered, as if saying the words would make them true.
"Dom," Cassius rasped, his voice hoarse. "You... okay?"
The boy nodded, tears streaming down his face. Cassius pulled him into his arms, holding him tightly, the weight of what heâd just done pressing down on him. He was bleeding, exhausted, terrified.
The prince was recuperating within the medical chambers under the tightest of security. He had been rushed there immediately, doctors crowding his unconscious body. Heâd regained consciousness hours later with tubes attached to his arm, and his neck heavily bandaged. His mother was by his side, and heâd talked to her some before falling into another restless sleep.
He was only starting to wake again when the door flew open with a bang that made Wulfric jump. Morrigan came tearing into the room like a storm. Her face was flushed, her breath escaped in puffs, and her eyes were bright and wild as they scanned the room.
âAdelard!â she cried out. He barely had time to react before she threw her arms around him and held him against her tightly. âOh, Adelard," she said, softer this time, but no less thick with emotion. She planted kisses all over his cheek and a long one on the forehead.
Arms were around him, holding him down, suffocating. âIt hurts,â he told her quietly. It wasnât because of her hug, not really. But the heat of her body was stifling; it radiated from her, and seeped into his. The gash beneath his bandages felt as if lava was running through it. It pulsated slowly but painfully, each heartbeat bringing with it a fresh pang of pain.
âMorrigan!â his mother hissed sharply from his bedside. âCan you not see that he is injured?â He was let down gently, and he blinked from one woman to the other, dazed. â...No sudden movements,â she added, calming her tone as she brushed through his hair.
âYou came to visit.â Wulfric was pleased to see her, so he smiled at Morrigan, though it was very faint. He felt so weak and awful, but the company wasâŚnice. He didnât want to be so childish, but he was secretly glad for all the coddling.
Morrigan sank to her knees beside the bed, careful so as not to cause Wulfric any more pain. She took his hand tenderly in her own, running her thumb over his knuckles in a soothing motion. âOf course I did, sweetie,â she said softly. Violet eyes roamed over him, checking how bad his injuries were. âWhat happened?â
âI was just playing,â he said. Wulfric was clearly confused; he knew what happened, but not why. âThen he- he attacked me, and wanted to kill meâŚâ
The child gripped Morriganâs hand as tight as a vice, fingers digging into her palm. His breathing sped up, lids screwing shut as part of the memory vividly flashed before his eyes.
Suddenly, the man lunged at him, a jagged piece of the broken vase in hand. The prince was tackled to the ground, and the man swung wildly, screaming as his eyes glinted madly. Wulfric yelped, trying to kick at the servant, struggling to break free. He couldnât. The sharp edge made contact just before the guards grabbed the offender and dragged the man back. However, the damage was already done, and the child brought a hand to his neck. It was searing hot â something sticky and warm oozed between his hands. Red was spreading everywhere. Blood. His blood.
He felt his mother stroking his back, and calmed down. Even though he was cautious turning around, the pain made him gasp. He gazed at his mother, silently pleading. It was tiring to try and explain further, and he knew she could tell Morrigan more.
Alibeth did, even as she took hold of his other hand. He listened as she went over what sheâd learned from him, the guards, and the doctors so far. Even though she was speaking softly, Wulfric could tell his mother was angry - angry for his sake. However, the way she retold the event was similar to his history lessons. He liked those; there was always a way to explain what happened and why.
âI knew I shouldâve done more than break his bones.â Wulfric thought he heard Morrigan mutter. He glanced her way, saw the familiar comforting face, but something dark spiraled behind those eyes.
âDid heâŚDid he attack me because Iâm important?â Wulfric asked his mother when she was finished. It wasnât the first time someone tried hurting him. Two years ago, he had thoughtlessly accepted a gift, and ended up being poisoned. His mother had told him then that he had to be careful. She had said some people would want to hurt him because he was a prince.
âI am unsure yet, darlingâŚBut all will become clear in due time.â He opened his mouth to object, because it seemed there was something she was holding back. But she touched his cheek, and promised, âWe can discuss it to your heartâs content when you are better, Wulfric.â
He huffed, but exhaustion was already taking him over. âAlright.â
âGet some rest, okay sweetie?â Morriagn stood up and helped his mother make Wulfric more comfortable in his bed. âWhen youâre all better, Iâll have a little present waiting for the good boy.â She tapped the good boyâs nose with her finger.
âIn the meantime, do you want anything?â
âTell me a story,â he requested.
âA story? Hmm.â Morrigan pondered for a moment. âHave you heard of The Lost Empire of the Silver Seas? Itâs popular with the children and Aidenâs been absolutely obsessed with it lately.â
Wulfricâs eyes grew heavy as Morriganâs melodic voice wove a tale of adventure on the high seas. She told of a dashing captain searching mythical islands for the fabled lost kingdom, filled with glittering treasure. Slowly, lulled by the epic story, he drifted into dreams of flashing blades and creaking ships, guided by the rhythm of crashing waves.
Just before sleep claimed him completely, he felt a light pressure on his foreheadâMorriganâs warm lips, kissing him goodnight. There was some quiet movement and a whispered exchange between his cousin and mother. The last thing he heard was, âIf you need anything from me, Bettie, you know where to find me.â
Wulfric had slept through most of the first several days. When he was able to stay awake longer, he was allowed to play here and there under supervision. After a week, he was allowed to take short walks to the garden. The second week in, however, the routine became so terribly tedius and frustrating. He was still in pain, yes, but why did he have to be locked up as if he were some prisoner? Heâd heard the doctors say how fortunate he was, and how he must truly be under divine protection.
If so, Wulfric wished the Gods would do something about all of this. He had no lessons, he couldnât sleep in his room, his neck was painful and itchy, and he constantly had people all around whose most commonly uttered phrases consisted of âNo,â and âI am terribly sorry, but.â In protest, he threw a tremendous tantrum, but after he tired himself out, he got the âOh, see, you must still rest, after all,â treatment. It was driving him up the wall, and he didnât know what to do about it, because no one was listening. Mother and Morrigan both were acting as if he still needed babying. Oh, how it grated that for every single step he took, there was someone looking down at him, judging him as weak and helpless. He hated it.
Morrigan laughed when Wulfric told her he wasnât a baby anymore. âOh honey,â she said, âno matter how old you are, youâll always be your Mamaâs precious little baby.â She cupped his puffed cheeks in her soft hands and nuzzled her nose against his, then kissed the frown creasing his brow.
âBut⌠I supposeâŚâ Her touch trailed down his neck, where the bandage covered his recent injury. She pressed down, down, down, until it stung and ached. Morrigan watched him closely, searching, assessing, testing as tears pricked his eyes. Waited to see if he would cry, if he would beg her to stop or flee. He would not. Wulfric swallowed hard, met her gaze. He was big. Strong. A prince. The Prince. He was not scared.
After what felt like forever, Morrigan withdrew her hand and smiled with pride. âWhat a strong wolf,â she praised. âI think youâre ready for my little present.â
âA present?â Wulfric asked eagerly. He blinked a few times to safely get rid of the uncomfortable dampness in his eyes, not letting a drop fall. He didnât like crying, and besides, he had no reason to. It still hurt, true. But even worse was the urge to scratch, to claw at it like a mindless beast. Even with salves applied to the injury, that instinct was growing stronger and more frequent. The doctors had explained to him it was a sign of healing. He hoped it would go away soon.
Whether as a reward or as an appeasement, Morrigan told him to follow her, and led him out of the medical chambers. Seeing he was going somewhere different in a while, the child perked up. At times, heâd run ahead of his cousin, who, amused, told him which direction to take. âOooh,â there was a sparkle of curiosity and delight in his gaze as they descended into the dungeons. He had explored there a few times, but adults mostly seemed to want to keep him away from the prisoners.
Except for Morrigan, who looked just as excited as he was. âClose your eyes, Adelard. Donât open them until I say so. Can you do that?â Of course he could. Wulfric not only squeezed his eyes shut, but clapped his hands over them to prove it. Giggles filled his ears, then the heavy door shrieked open. Morrigan gently guided him through one room and into another. When they finally stopped he shifted from foot to foot, swaying with anticipation and fighting the urge to peek.
âYou can look now.â Wulfric needed no further encouragement. He peeled his hands away, blinking as his vision adjusted to the dim light. Someone lay strapped to the most uncomfortable looking recliner. All kinds of strange tools decorated the table beside it. Morrigan flung her arms wide, matching the broadness of her grin. âTa-da!â
Wulfric mimicked her smile, perplexed, but as he stared at the man chained to the rack, his expression turned blank. The manâs face was heavily bruised and bloodied, nose broken, lips swollen, yet he was still recognizable. His body was just as battered, his limbs twisted unnaturally. The servant had whimpered upon Morriganâs entrance, but now his fearfully pleading eyes locked onto the childâs. âM-mph!â the man tried to say something through the gag.
âYou,â he seethed. âYou tried to kill me,â the prince accused. There was a turmoil of confusion and anger brewing within him. Vigorous muffled protests followed as the man tried to shake himself free. It was futile. Wulfric looked at Morrigan, then at the tools - though he didnât recognize them, he knew they were weapons - then back at her. His cousin nodded happily, still grinning.
Wulfric approached the table, and chose something familiar. A simple knife. He slashed off the manâs gag, lightly cutting his cheek in the process. âIâb sorry - sorry, pwhe-ease forgib me,â the man started crying right away.
âShut up.â His voice was eerily calm even as he gripped the knife tightly. The servant hiccuped, nervous eyes flitting here and there. âHey,â Wulfric drew his attention. âDo you remember when you gave me this?â He pointed at his bandaged neck. The man swallowed, gave a tiny nod, was about to say something, but the prince hushed him. âYou were sayingâŚThat I was a monster. That I should die,â he recalled. âTell me why,â he demanded.
But the man started apologizing again, saying how he hadnât meant it, how he didnât know what had come over him, how heâd forgotten himself, and begged for mercy. Wulfricâs face grew darker as he listened. âThatâs not what I asked.â He circled the man until he stood by his head. He held the knife in both hands, fingers tight around the handle. He stared down at the servant. When the man had attacked him, Wulfric had been just as helpless. Knocked onto the floor, an adult body pinning him down, a sharp improvised weapon wielded against him. His breathing picked up speed; he didnât quite hear what the man was saying anymore. All he knew was that this person had caused him hurt, had meant to kill him.
With a shout, he brought the knife down, fast and hard - into the manâs shoulder. Even with all his strength, it didnât plunge deeply, stopped by a bone. But the man screamed, and Wulfric knew heâd screamed just like that when heâd been stabbed too. He took deep breaths, mouth open, eyes wide as he stared at the wound heâd created, shocked. YetâŚthe person whoâd hurt him was the one hurting now. That was good.
He closed his eyes for a bit, shaking. It passed after a while, and he started wiggling the knife out. It took a bit, prompting more screams, but then it was dislodged. Hands bloodied and slick, the child went back to where he could watch the manâs face. âTell me,â he said again, voice rougher, tired out from the effort.
When the man failed to answer again, Morriganâs hand flew out in a blur, backhanding him with a resounding crack that echoed through the stone chamber. She leaned in close, pressing a slender finger to his lips to hush his whimpers before they could fully form. âNow, now, darling,â she purred, her voice syrup-sweet. âYour prince asked you a question. Itâs rude not to answer.â She clicked her tongue in mock disapproval. âSuch dreadful manners. Do I have to teach you a lesson?â Her fingers slid across his cheek in a slow caress, gliding down the column of his throat. Her touch promised only pain as her nails began to circle over the fresh wound.
Wulfric observed the man, then glanced at his bloodied hands, at Morrigan, and finally at the servant. âShould IâŚcut?â he asked quietly. It was unclear whom he was asking, nor the exact emotions behind the question, but he was staring down at the immobile victim intently. He shuffled closer, the knife slick and slippery from blood.
The captive struggled to escape, but only managed to rattle his chains. âWh-wait!â he gasped. âI - Iâll tell - so, jus -â the prisoner breathed heavily, eyes squeezing shut. Wulfric waited patiently, and when the servant next looked at him, there was something familiar in the way he did it.
âI did-did it,â he grit his teeth. âBe-be-coz, youâre like this.â He strained, and shook, gradually becoming more frenzied. âYou-youâre enjoying this, arenât you? Jus-jus like back then. You thought it was so funny! Watchinâ me run, gettinâ your guards to bully me, threateninâ me! And that damn vase! It wasnât my damn fault! You saw tha-thaâ! Bh-bhut, you beat me up sâbad sâa dog - worse than! Said I could never repay it, brought my family upâ!â
The prince considered that. âBut I was playing then,â he said, testing. âIt was a game,â he insisted.
âA game? A game!â the man shouted abruptly, furious. âWe ainât your fuckinâ toys! Not yours, not the damn kingâs â Gods! You, your father, all of you, you think weâre just tools to use till you throw us away! But no! Even a goddamned vase you care more about than any of us.â
âMy father!â Wulfric repeated, visibly upset. Unprompted, the man went onto a rant about the king. He continued, on and on, even as the prince watched, surprise momentarily taking over the anger. After another minute, however, he was cut off - literally - by another fierce stab from the child. The man gasped as the weapon plunged into the soft tissue of his stomach area.
âSo you hate him. Itâs him you want to kill,â the prince reasoned. âWhy not do it then?â He asked, laughing. A knowing grin spread across his features. âYou canât, right? But you thought that I was weak. That you could kill me,â he uttered darkly. âI was an easy target for youâŚâ This clearly infuriated the child. âNot anymore,â he declared quietly. âAnd now youâll die for it.â
Wulfric glanced at Morrigan. âHe told me what I wanted,â he concluded.
At the finality of his words, Morrigan pouted. âYou would let him off so easily?â Wulfric found himself confused; since when were executions being âlet off lightlyâ?
Morrigan began to orbit the bound servant. Each step was calculated and precise, her heels clicking against the cold stone floor in a steady, almost hypnotic rhythm. âWhen he still doesnât understand the gravity of his crime?â
She halted her pacing to place a hand over the servantâs stomach. âDoes he regret every decision that led him here? Every step, every breath?â
Without warning, her fingers plunged deep into the open wound, evoking a shrill scream. But somehow, through the howls, Wulfric could still hear Morriganâs soft voice just as clearly as he did before. âDoes he realize what a privilege it is to serve us? And this⌠this is how he chose to repay our generosity? What audacity to bite the hand that feeds.â
Morrigan continued her invasive exploration inside the servant. Whatever she was doing caused him to writhe violently against his restraints, his wails rising to an ear-splitting volume.
She paused momentarily to savor his anguish before speaking again. âHe still believes what he did was right, that you and your daddy owe him an apology for his own actions.â
âDeath is too swift an escape for vermin such as him. He needs a lesson heâll never forget, one that will etch itself into his very soul and carry to the afterlife, where itâll dawn on him that itâs impossible to atone for even a fraction of his sin against you, against us, against Caesonia.â
With a hint of reluctance, Morrigan withdrew her blood-soaked fingers from the servantâs abdomen. A resigned sigh escaped her lips and she turned to Wulfric. âBut, this is your gift. You can do whatever you want with him.â
âHmmmâŚâ Wulfric was deep in thought. He didnât especially care what the man thought; he would die anyhow. âHe doesnât need to regret everything.â Even so, a part of him was interested in what Morrigan was saying. It sounded similar to what his father so often did, yet a shade different. There was undeniable intrigue to find out exactly what she meant. Would she show him something new? Would the man say anything else? Would he regret what he did? Would he learn? And if he did - if he did, what then?
âAlright,â he decided. âYou can make him pay for this,â he traced the bandaged neck injury. âForâŚtreason,â he rolled the word on his tongue, pondering the bound criminal. As he settled on his verdict, he smiled at his cousin. âI can share,â he told her proudly.
âAww! Arenât you just the sweetest thing!â Morrigan cooed, âThank you, Adelard. Youâre so thoughtful.â She affectionately pinched his cheek, âWhy donât we turn this into a lesson on anatomy and persuasion?â She ushered Wulfric to the table and picked up a tool from it. âThe most important thing about torturing is to cause maximum pain without accidentally killing them. Thereâs different kinds of pain, but letâs keep it simple and focus on physical pain, okay?â When he nodded, she smiled and placed the tool into his hand. âEveryoneâs pain tolerance is different, and it can change from day to day. The very first step of torture is to find out how much the person can handle.â She gestured towards the servant. âStart with something that you think will cause mild discomfort then start increasing the pain until you reach his threshold.â Morrigan stopped herself and rephrased the last part in case Wulfric didnât understand, âStop when he screams, starts shaking, or jerks away from you.â
The young prince obeyed, curious about the impromptu lesson. He followed Morriganâs guidance - and drew upon his own ingenuity - to torment the servant. Because of what the man said, and because of how much he was thinking about what had happened, it occurred to the child that he must have hurt him before, when he was playing. But when Wulfric asked his cousin if that had been torture, she gave a weird answer. âPain comes in all shapes and sizes,â she said. âTorture is not being able to escape it.â So, he figured it was best to learn the difference. His outings to the dungeons with Morrigan lasted days and days. During his time there, he observed and absorbed the lessons on pain, and its effects on a person. His cousin and his victim both had much to teach him on the subject.
Around the time the man started begging to be killed, Wulfric decided heâd had enough. His cousin pointed out they could go further, but he did what Morrigan termed âgranting a merciful deathâ to the prisoner. Sheâd asked if heâd ever like to do this with her again, and he told her maybe, if someone tried killing him again.
Either way, he had much to think about. Heâd involved his mother too, when he started pestering her with questions. She was more than willing to indulge him - not just then, but throughout the following years, during which she taught him many, many things.
TLDR: At seven, Wulfric is nearly killed. But hey, he gets a cool scar out of it! Being the good cousin she is, Morrigan comes up with a very child-appropriate activity to bond over - torturing the culprit. Isnât it sweet how sheâs looking out for him?
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