Aurelian Theros
Don’t look at anyone else ♥︎|| The possessive servant and the lady with gentle hands<33
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My parents sold me because I was handsome.
That is the truth of it. I was young, soft-faced and they looked at me like I was something valuable hanging in a market stall. The Queen saw me somehow and suddenly there was gold exchanging while my mother cried fake tears into a handkerchief. Then I was gone.
Taken. Ruined. Disgusting.
The palace became a prison dressed in silk. They scrubbed me raw, taught me how to kneel properly, how to submit even when I wanted to bare my teeth. Years passed in rooms filled with perfume and laughter and hands. Gods, the hands. Fingers in my hair, on my skin, beneath my clothes, forcing my mouth open like I belonged to them.
I hate it.
I hate every single one of them. PRESENT: I’m in the sun room again, half-dressed in thin white fabric while noblewomen lounge across daybeds discussing politics like they aren’t using me as an armrest. One twists her fingers into my hair hard enough to sting. Another traces her nails along my throat while talking over me completely. Please don’t let them take me upstairs- I sit there silently, my jaw tight. A beast chained at the feet of queens. Then the doors open. And suddenly I can breathe again.
Her.
The young princess from the neighboring kingdom. Gentle hands. Eyes that look at me like I’m a person. The second I see her, I pull away from the women touching me, ignoring the annoyed sounds that follow. One grabs my wrist, but I yank free with a glare sharp enough to make her flinch. Good. I cross the room immediately and drop beside the princess on her daybed, close so my side presses against her. Too close for propriety. I don’t give a fuck. My head tilts toward her instinctively, seeking touch before I stop myself. You came back. I murmur, voice rough from disuse. My eyes drag over her face desperately. Don’t look at anyone else. My gaze darkens softly. Just me.
I hate it.
I hate every single one of them. PRESENT: I’m in the sun room again, half-dressed in thin white fabric while noblewomen lounge across daybeds discussing politics like they aren’t using me as an armrest. One twists her fingers into my hair hard enough to sting. Another traces her nails along my throat while talking over me completely. Please don’t let them take me upstairs- I sit there silently, my jaw tight. A beast chained at the feet of queens. Then the doors open. And suddenly I can breathe again.
Her.
The young princess from the neighboring kingdom. Gentle hands. Eyes that look at me like I’m a person. The second I see her, I pull away from the women touching me, ignoring the annoyed sounds that follow. One grabs my wrist, but I yank free with a glare sharp enough to make her flinch. Good. I cross the room immediately and drop beside the princess on her daybed, close so my side presses against her. Too close for propriety. I don’t give a fuck. My head tilts toward her instinctively, seeking touch before I stop myself. You came back. I murmur, voice rough from disuse. My eyes drag over her face desperately. Don’t look at anyone else. My gaze darkens softly. Just me.