Chapter Text
Chapter 1
Two months....
Two months and five days to be exact. I moved through the grand vestibule I have been walking through every day for the eternity of six months and five days. I have been counting.
I reached my destination passing through the row of pristine chandeliers hanging like the stars,so much glimmer it felt as if moths would inhabit it any moment, just like they did at the set of the twinkle light papa got me for christmas. Yet, it was too cold--icy enough to ascertain that even Owlets, the most resilient of all the moths, do not survive.
I never saw a moth in here despite this palace having the luminosities of all the world combined. Maybe it was too hostile to share the space with mere insects it considered as subalterns.
By the time I arrived at the door I was met by the cutting stare of Mr Smith,a valet to the prince.
"Do you not know His Highness does not tolerate tardiness? Where have you been? You insolent little--" he gritted
" I apologize" I quickly spoke lowering my head not explaining anything. It was better than to 'speak back' and get caned. I had tried it before. He gave me a look full of hatred-- as if the mere sight of my face disgusted him he then knocked on the door three times. Tap. Tap. Tap. Gently holding the door open, he pushed me inside the room and closed the door.
Steadying myself, I quickly offered a deep curtsey to the looming presence standing over me. "Your highness" and rose as he gave a shallow motion of his hand. The room smelt faintly of something other than the cigar dangling between his lips-- something I had grown accustomed to and that was confirmed in a look. I saw the four moist faces. The three of them usual but one new face. Perhaps a court lady-- the word has been getting out that the Sinclair's needed a royal favor. A scandal to bury without getting the word out. It was meant to be confidential but it doesn't take long for a word to spread out like the fire. Just how it was not as unknown to the fellow maids that I had been attending the valet's duties on the prince's demand. They all whispered assuming a back turned guaranteed dysfunction of the ear.
His sharp blue eyes followed my gaze pointedly before he let out a clipped laugh
"Why? Say,do you wish to join in with them?" His eyes, after all those months, they scared me. Never failed to not scare me.
"You called, your highness?" I asked him politely. He cocked his head curling a finger at me. I walked closer.
"Out,all of you" he sharply commanded and the women who were eagerly intaking the exchange.
I stopped at a distance of three steps away from him as he blew the smoke on my face. My lungs burned but I didn't cough. The reek of tobacco, unbearable enough that it drowned the rustlers of those women's dressing gowns-- they fleeted with nervous glances. I was already in the know that I might've developed a convulsive disease, the constant cloud of smoke on my face and the side stream smoke of his cigar, a consequence to my almost fixed presence by his side.
"I called for you fifteen minutes ago. Do you not know I detest tardiness?"
Taking a hold of my chin,he murmured against my temple. His voice was soft against my skin-- he even leaned down from the towering length to be on the same height as me. How dreamy-- heavenly even, for any woman to be in the footing I was right now. That's all those court lady's desired. A dream so utterly perfect. And sadly, for mere commoners like me perfect didn't exist.
He pulled back and my breath, which I had been struggling with lately, was knocked out of my lungs when in the next moment a sharp slap landed on my face. I had foreseen it, believed in that thought like a faith. He had a silent rage mixed with the warmth he usually had for me in his eyes-- the moment he had mocked me. All I knew too well. It was there the moment my mind had registered the softness of Kashan's silk ,a sort of persian rug from what I remember-- it is called, beneath my cracked feet. Right when I was observing the new face. He had scrutinized that I noted the change and for some reason he appeared to hate my hypervigilance, ironically so, I had made a note of this specific dis likeness of his as well. He was aware that I knew of his annoyance over the fact, perhaps that made him seethe, that despite knowing of his displeasure I 'defied' him, every time. Perhaps that is the real reason for the slap I just received.
"Ah-ah, do not parade such a wounded face. Such a theatrical mask. A bit much, eh?
Besides, you make a mistake, you get disciplined." He smiled affectionately again yet his jaw ticked at my unfazed state. Did he not know, you grow used to it? I had learned to not flinch when his hand came, but neither let my tears slip. I was aware of the power of women's tears. The only 'weapon'-- if so, was the relishing of men,the stroke to their ego by seeing us undone. My tears afforded his amusement. "When I call, you put aside everything mhm? "Nothing is more significant to you than my word. I own you, don't I?" I nodded drawing a shuddering breath as he caressed the cheek he just struck.
"As much as I hate putting my hand on you-- a weak, frail bird, you compel me to that, don't you? Tell me, what was it so crucial that held you back? " He spoke with a touch of regret in his tone, feigning it all too well.
"I--"
"I hate it when you endeavor to make sense of me like I am a riddle,Seren." he confessed, truthfully. My name on his tongue delicate. I never got to complete my explanation.
He pulled away then. Standing over me with his towering figure.
"I am tired, I wish to bathe." He commanded and I began to undo the laces of his silk shirt without any delay-- he had just made it clear that he 'detests tardiness', didn't he? I had my first experience of his hand coming down to strike me when I denied to un rob him when I was summoned for the first time. My hands now were controlled--they did not tremble anymore.
"Your hands-- they're hideous. So coarsened, undoubtedly never touched silk before being brought to me. Did you?" He asked, the sound of his whisper murmurous as he held my rough hands in his,each word contradiction of his action. His hands too were rugged, however, the cracked in his pores were from hunting-- a privilege. My father once too dreamt of hunting one day.
"No. I did not, your highness." I answered politely. He let go of my hands and I continued undressing him.
I had grown used to attending the duties of his valets-- something which I dreaded once. I now strongly believe that the adaptability of human is the core of existence. The theory of evolution could not be any wrong. Survival make determinations change. I had planned on offing myself after that day when I first bathed him...and then I just settled. Right where I was required to. Though,the time period seems to be getting painfully long.
The one thing that fascinated me truly were the whispers of the fellow maids. Words that suggested that I was the one to seduce him. That I had performed witchcraft on the Prince Alistair--the heir to the crown, gained his favor, given the 'devil's mark' on my face. Oh, how I absolutely loved getting hit on the face. I am thrilled by the high pitched sound that rings in my ear,each time I am manhandled. What woman,in her right mind, would not savor such luxury? It was a dream come true for a hideous, destitute like me. Wasn't it?