[ It'd be a stretch to say she's settled into the Mors King's domain but as the days she's been here have turned into weeks, she's found herself getting used to it. Things are quiet, here - if there are any other subjects save the Mors King himself and the beasts that serve him, she hasn't seen hide nor hair of them. In a way, it's a relief - it means no prying eyes to serve as witnesses and whisper behind her back, nobody to take tales of her back to Fragaria. There's no work to do, no obligations to fulfill... aside from the one that she's already given herself to. In some ways, it's a welcome respite but there's a part of her that feels restless and dissatisfied with no duties to perform.
And at the end of each day, she spends her nights in the Mors King's bed. They've settled into a strange, uneasy sort of routine. Each night, he anchors her against him and makes a show of exploring her body with his hands. He'll hold her so tight that she can feel the rise and fall of his chest behind her, the heat of his body bleeding through the thin fabric of her shift - and every night, he'll go no further than he had that first night, his hands always stopping just shy of actually defiling her. At first, she'd been terribly confused and off-balance. She had offered herself, the Mors King had seemed eager enough to take what she offered... but in the end, he hadn't done anything but tease and tantalize. The threat of his hands tracing over her skin, of his claws scraping gently against her body, was a constant reminder of what he could do if he wanted to but...
In the end, she comes to understand it as some sort of test. To see how true she is to her word that her body is his to use as he pleases or how far he might have to push her before she protests. And so she doesn't resist or fight him. She stays as pliant and yielding as he demands, not even flinching at the brush of his claws or the threat of his presence. And so she remains untouched - and so does Fragaria. ]
Is there really nothing else I can do?
[ It's a dull morning on her second - or maybe third - week at the castle when she approaches with her question. The light in the windows is always sallow, the sickly yellow of an overcast sunset, but she's yet to see a drop of rain or a hint of sunlight. The land here is sickly too, she thinks - and as Saintess, she has some responsibility to do something about it, even if this isn't her land. ]
You said you had all the servants you need but... there must be some sort of chore I can do, something useful that you can assign to me. I'm here for you to use however you please.
[ Honestly, it wouldn't be wrong to describe the place as "dreadfully boring". The land itself was clearly meant to be lived in by other creatures, but has instead fallen into disarray and neglect... save for the castle, in which the bare minimum amount of upkeep is attended to by the Mors King's mindless "servants" that wordlessly roam the halls... and even then, most of them only serve the purpose of security via patrol.
Still, for a dragon, this didn't really bother him. In the first place, most dragons simply stay in their lairs all the time anyway, and the Mors King is unusual in that regard, seeing as how a castle is fairly unsubtle for a lair.
...but what can he say? He's attached to this place.
Still, the situation is admittedly a little frustrating... the way she barely even flinches at his touch now. Completely pliant and without a single protest...
...well, that is exactly what he demanded of her, he supposes. He really shouldn't be annoyed that she's doing as she's told, but it's becoming clearer to him that this Saintess—false though she may be—will not break.
Yet still unwilling to push past the boundary that he himself has set, he's found himself stuck. Hell, if anything, hasn't he accomodated her more than he's tormented her? The stores of the castle are, for the first time in countless years, stocked with food so that she doesn't starve. She has clothes to wear (albeit only to his personal preference), she can bathe regularly... and though she must sit through being groped all over every night, she's then able to sleep in a warm bed.
...what the hell, has he gone soft!? Ugh... he's in the middle of contemplating how to amp up her torment when she appears before him...
...and quite frankly? Asks something ridiculous of him. ]
...What? Not satisfied with just giving me your body?
[ His words are clearly meant as yet another jab, an insult aimed at her lack of purity despite being a Saintess... but he sounds so bored as he says it that it can only fall flat. Even his tail, normally hidden, droops lazily off to the side. ]
That isn't the same. [ You'd expect her words to sound defensive but instead, they're unruffled. Matter of fact, even. ] That only lasts a few minutes at the end of the day. There's no point in me taking up space and eating your food if I'm not doing enough to earn it.
[ Maybe she would feel differently if he really had gone through with it and actually used her - at the very least, she would have felt much less inclined to make herself useful. But this strange game they've been playing where he toys with her and she yields to him has left her feeling restless. She's bored - something she hasn't had the luxury of feeling in a long time but the novelty has quickly started to wear off. ]
There has to be something that needs doing that your servants can't handle. I might be a fake Saintess, but my magic is still the real thing. So I might as well put it to some use.
[ She's annoyingly... earnest about this whole thing. ]
[ It's throwing him off more than it should, he realizes. She does realize she's still a captive here, right? Sure, she's free to roam the castle (barring certain sections where Mors Guards will promptly bar her from exploring any further), but it's not like she can leave. A single escape attempt and not only would he kill her, but he'd attack Fragaria in retaliation.
So can he really be blamed for being a little awed at the fake Saintess before him now asking for work to do? Most prisoners would rejoice at not having to do any physical... labor...
...is that what he's doing wrong!? No, what he's doing wrong is not going through with his promises and using her properly... but not putting her to work isn't helping either. ]
...Hmph. Unfortunately for you, my land has no need of a Saintess' magic, fake or otherwise.
[ A bit cruel to the dead and desolate land they're on, but it's not as if he intends to have any subjects again. There's no point in healing this place, and in the first place, it's too damaged to be healed by one measly saint. ]
...but I suppose you're right. These guys are about as dull as dull can get.
[ At the end of the day, even if he assigns them other roles and routines, the Mors are only really good for killing. Anything unrelated to that and the results are either subpar or the bare minimum. ]
Mm. I've noticed they're not very smart. [ ... she says it in that same unruffled, matter-of-fact voice that somehow makes it worse than if she'd been intentionally trying to insult him. ] They react to things and follow orders but that's about it.
[ Of course, the same could very much be said of her as well, but that's a thread of self-loathing to pick at another time. Anyway! ]
Still, that's all the more reason I should be useful to you. Even if you don't have any need of my magic, surely you won't object to me keeping busy, will you?
[ Not that she's entirely sure what she could keep busy with. She can't cook, she's not strong enough to help with the maintenance of the castle, the grounds outside are barred but even if they weren't, it's not as if she knows anything about gardening. Really, there's no particular skill in any trade that would be helpful for a dragon. But she can't stand the thought of sitting around doing nothing for much longer. ]
[ His eyebrow twitches, but he ultimately decides to let it slide, if only because he'd already admitted as such. ]
...well, if the Saintess wants to do more than warm my bed, then I suppose I've no reason to refuse. The Saintess, a maidservant... not bad.
[ He brings his clawed hand to his chin, thinking for a moment. He could always just tell her to clean and maintain the entire castle and relish in the impossibility of such a task for only one person, but he'd prefer she actually do something substantial. ]
Fine, you can clean, can't you? The Mors can handle most of the castle, but there are certain chambers I'd like better maintained, mine included. Consider yourself lucky I'm not assigning you to the entire castle.
[ There's something a little... there's no other word for it, pathetic about just how pleased she looks to have been given an order. It's not a change in her expression or anything quite that easy to call out but there's a shifting in the way she holds herself, a brightening of her eyes and a slight straightening of her spine that makes it obvious. Maybe it's just relief to have been given something to do when she's so restless, but... ]
I will. I'll do my best to meet your expectations. [ She dips her head in a polite nod. ] Thank you for letting me be of service.
[ And she actually means it, which is the worst part of all. ]
Do you want them to be maintained in any particular way? I've always been told dragons are very particular about their dens.
[ ...not that she's ever heard of a dragon who lives in a castle, but still. ]
[ He feels another twinge of annoyance. How is it that she's so pleased to be given something to do? Ugh...
He drowns it out with a laugh at her query. ]
Hah! Particular, huh... you humans have learned to understate it, then? Step into a dragon's den for any reason and you've effectively forfeited your life. Us dragons are a little more than just particular about our dens.
[ So he says, not addressing the fact that he himself is fairly strange for a dragon, even if his strength is unmatched. ]
Just clean it to your human standards. Dust, clutter, the bed... ah.
[ His expression suddenly turns... serious, and yet reminiscent of one of their earlier mornings, when it hit them that Ai had no other clothes to wear. ]
...you are not to touch my wardrobes. Do whatever you want with yours, but stay the hell away from mine.
[ Animal alarm twinges in her chest - she hasn't gotten particularly good at reading his face yet, especially when he makes such a show of being miserable about everything and anything but she has at least gotten used to the look of almost relaxed scorn that he tends to wear more often than not. It's almost performatively unpleasant but it's consistent enough, at least, that it never comes as a surprise. But when his face and voice both harden like that, it's different. It's not a threat, not the idle malice that she's gotten used to, but something sharper and more pointed. It's beyond an order - it's the promise of punishment if she happens to disobey.
It's familiar. Maybe that's why she's so unsettled by it.
So she responds almost thoughtlessly, as she's been trained - a polite bow of the head, the sort of abbreviated curtsy a maid might give the lord of the house. ]
Of course. I wouldn't think of it.
[ She wonders, of course, just what use a dragon has for a wardrobe full of such lovely, well-kept finery, dresses and blouses and skirts in every color of the rainbow and all of them finer than anything she's ever owned or worn herself. Part of her wonders if they're trophies, the remains of other foolish girls like her who'd put themselves at the mercy of a beast like him...
But then she remembers the look of visceral, unfiltered misery that had flashed across his face too quick for him to hide it the moment he'd seen her wearing one of them and the thought quickly fades. ]
I'll start right away, if there's nothing else you need me to do. ... But I'll need cleaning supplies, if you have them.
[ She's lost count of the days she's been part of the Mors King's hoard. She'd tried to keep count of them in her head but as the days had ticked past, her grasp on how much time had gone by had become looser and looser until she simply realized one day that she simply had no idea and gave up in disgust. She's starting to feel like just as permanent a fixture of the castle as the Mors themselves and whatever complicated feeling that stirs in her chest, she doesn't want to examine.
Her days haven't changed all that much. She eats, she cleans, she picks her way through the unnervingly well-preserved library just for something to do. Most days, she feels bored rather than anxious. Sometimes, she and the Mors King talk and while she would never be so stupid as to say they get along, a strange understanding seems to have settled between them that feels almost like a ceasefire agreement.
And yet, at the end of every day, her duties haven't changed - the Mors King still has her sleep in his chambers and he still spends as long as he likes exploring her body with his hands. He still hasn't gone any further and she can't make any sense of it - but the more time passes the more she wonders if the Mors King, too, no idea of what he means to do with her.
She still hasn't breathed a word about the portrait she found, after all. ]
... is there really nothing you can do to warm things in here?
[ She asks that all too calmly as she climbs onto the bed, clad as usual in nothing but one of the thin shifts she's always reduced to whenever he's had her undress for the evening. There are goosebumps up and down her arms but her shivers during these minutes before bed have long since stopped being to do with anything but the cold. ]
[ He's not an idiot, he's noticed it as well. Noticed how her fear has all but receded, even as his claws run along her skin.
It annoys him. The way she looks at him has begun to change... no, it already has changed. In understanding more of her as an individual, she seems to have come to some form of understanding of him in turn.
Imagine that. A single woman understanding him, the most vile dragon to ever roam the world.
...it's not quite the same, and yet the look in her eyes only serves to annoy him more as images of a beautiful red-haired fairy flash through his mind. ]
You needn't worry... I fully intend to warm you up as usual.
[ She holds his gaze for a few seconds too long - much longer than she would've been able to back when she first came here. Easy as her lies are to read, whatever emotion flits through them now is oddly opaque and difficult to decipher. And then... her shoulders don't quite sag but some line of tension in them comes loose and the breath that flutes out of her nose is almost (but not quite) a sigh. ]
Mm. As usual.
[ She doesn't need to be dragged over this time - she comes close of her own accord, close enough for her knees to bump his thigh and her hair to spill over her shoulder and onto his. If she was once an animal facing a predator's bared teeth, where has all that fear suddenly gone? ]
[ His eyebrow twitches at her response... or rather, the lack thereof. She comes to his side without hesitation... the feeling of a prey submitting to a predator is still there, but the fear is all but gone.
It annoys him, but he begins anyway, his hands running along her body as it always does... teasing, coming close but never close enough. There's a distinct, pleasant scent to her while she's so close... something that his senses have no choice but to pick up on. He's done a good job of hiding it, but... it's allure on him is undeniable. ]
...You've gotten rather used to this, haven't you?
[ So he says as his hands snake along her body, cupping her chest and slipping between her thighs. ]
[ Another of those little sighs flutters out of her and she settles against him, all the tender and vulnerable spots exposed so deliberately that it almost feels like a challenge - but really, at this point, it's just more proof that she's gotten used to this. Her thoughts now are all focused on his body heat bleeding into her as she settles back against him, back flush with his chest as It always ends up. It isn't pleasant. But with her fear and revulsion gone, it's also no longer unbearable. ]
Well. What else is there for me to do with my time but get used to it?
[ She doesn't even squirm anymore. She's still too pliant and obedient, nothing at all like the way someone should respond to anyone's touch, let alone a predator, but there's an ease to the way she leans back into his chest and settles under his hands that says she's no longer as reluctant. It's hard to say whether that's a good or a bad thing. ]
[ His hands continue to roam as they usually do, but unlike other times, his tail moves around to snake around her waist and add a new sensation to the exploration of her body... not that he isn't already intimately familiar with the curves and shape of her form by now. ]
Maybe so, but... it's less fun for me.
[ Says the one who isn't actually breaking her... ]
[ That's new. New enough that a little squeak of surprise slips out of her and she tenses just a bit under his touch. But again - the emotion is surprise, not fear or caution.
Why would she be afraid? For all his threats, the promise of violence behind his touch, the Mors King has never actually hurt her. He's made her comfortable in every way a king should accommodate a guest and even this nightly indignity is starting to feel more performative than out of any real desire to distress her. His touch is so careful, it's almost hesitant and though nothing about it is appropriate, he's never actually gone though and defiled her.
She wonders if the Mors King realizes just what a contradiction his behavior is. She wonders, sometimes, if he's the one who's forgotten what she's here for. ]
Then... why do you keep doing it?
[ That had been their agreement, after all. If she'd failed to satisfy him, Fragaria would be forfeit. So why...? ]
[ It’s not enough, he thinks, but it will have to do. His tail snakes underneath her shift to wrap around her, scales against skin. ]
…that’s not for you to question.
[ Because despite everything, how can he claim their agreement to be broken when he hasn’t even indulged in what she offers him?
But she’s right. Why is he still doing this? Why does he contradict himself? He should either do away with this deal or fully indulge in her.
For a second, his hands get a little bolder. One hand massages her chest while the other hovers just between her thighs. It would be so easy to defile her… to reinvigorate the fear she once had.
To finally satisfy himself. To quell that burning heat in him that the Saintess can surely feel in his chest against her back. ]
[ It's all so strange, he thinks... though come to think of it, everything has been strange since she came here, hasn't it? He'd be a fool to not have noticed it... not to mention the change in scenery. What once remained subtle was now considerably less so... seeing as how while the sky remains draped in dark heavy clouds, light now trickles through the dull curtain... giving the land something resembling an actual daytime for the first time in...
...Well, a long time, to say the least.
There's really only one explanation for it. An explanation he has stubbornly kept from her, but he imagines that she's either already figured it out, or will figure it out sooner or later.
As for how he feels about it, well... he's conflicted, to say the least. Yet despite that... ]
Ah, there you are...
[ He grins, already sitting on the bed as she enters the room. It's been a few days since then... and he's oh-so-graciously given her time to recover from their first real night of passion together. It broke away from the standard he had set, when he had groped and explored her body each and every night without hesitation, but...
He supposes being able to sleep with her body so close to his was ample compensation for that.
Still, enough time has passed... at least in his opinion. Her body has recovered enough, and well... the fact that he's here before her for once might be giving away how eager he is, but he's ready to firmly deny that. ]
[ It'd been impossible to imagine, once, but Ai thinks she might just have settled here. To a degree, she doesn't have any choice - the mark on her neck hasn't faded even as those bites and hickeys have and it reminds her every time she sees it that she really, truly can't go back or run away anymore. But rather than dread, she feels oddly... safe. If she can't go back, that also means no one can take her back.
It's not as cold in their chambers as it usually is when she arrives - maybe it's because she'd been bathing and the water's warmed her up. It certainly isn't thanks to that frilly, frivolous shift she's been wearing. ]
Heehee. Did I keep you waiting?
[ She tilts her head, eyes twinkling with mischief. Her hair's still damp, clinging to her neck and cheek, and when she climbs up onto the bed beside him, the rest of it is still glittering with water, too. Y-you kind of have to suspect whether or not she's doing it on purpose. ]
Sorry. But you can sleep without me, you know. I won't be offended.
[ ...It must be purposeful, it's the only feasible explanation. She's simply far too picturesque for it to be unintentional... and in that case, well, he'd be lying if he said it wasn't working. ]
Nope. Why would I do that...
[ He slides closer, lifting his claw to her chin. To think that only a few days had left him this needy for her... it's embarrassing, he seriously can't let it show just how much he wants her right now.
His eyes drift down to the mark on her neck... a sinister symbol, reminiscent of his true form... of course, it's just a symbol, that's all... but it's etched deep into her body. Nay, deep into her very soul. Even if she were taken from him, it would remain... forever proof of who she belongs to.
Not to mention a sign of the hell he would raze to reclaim her. ]
You've recovered enough. Tonight, I plan on indulging myself...
[ So he says, regardless of however Ai might feel concerning her own recovery. His claw drifts up from her chin to touch her lips. ]
[ Ah. Now Oberon's the one coming to her side. Things really have changed. She doesn't quail or withdraw from his touch, but even that feels different now. Rather than submission as it'd once been, now it feels much more like permission. ]
And whose fault is it I needed time to 'recover' in the first place?
[ Her voice is chiding, but playfully so - low, warm and teasing. The kind of voice she's never used with him before. ]
You wouldn't have needed to wait if you'd had a little more self control in the first place.
[ But it doesn't seem like she's really scolding him all that much. After all - for all the time she'd needed to recover, it's not as though she hadn't enjoyed it. The comfortable quiet of just sharing a bed had been surprisingly enjoyable but...
Ai knows they're as bad as each other. So is this really a suprise? ]
[ Down she goes without protest. Even though she's literally going belly up for him, she doesn't read quite as submissive as she once did. A warm noise puffs out of her mouth into what little space there is between their lips - a laugh. ]
Don't pin this on me. [ She pulls in another breathy laugh between each kiss. ] You of all people should know how to handle something fragile.
[ Her hand drifts up, combs carefully through his hair and sweeps it back from his face. He's doing a good job of pretending, but that needy expression on his face is so honest and cute, she really can't resist. ]
[ Shit… of course she can see through him. It’s something she’s gotten frustratingly good at these days, but… ]
Hah… maybe…
[ His clawed hands take hers by the wrists and lifts them up above her head, just like before. ]
Or maybe the songs you sing under my touch are just that alluring.
[ Just like before, her hands are bound once again… just like they had been bound the night when their relationship completely changed. He’s rather confident in this binding spell, isn’t he…? Since his attention immediately turns to slipping off her shift as if he were unwrapping a meticulously wrapped present. ]
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no subject
And at the end of each day, she spends her nights in the Mors King's bed. They've settled into a strange, uneasy sort of routine. Each night, he anchors her against him and makes a show of exploring her body with his hands. He'll hold her so tight that she can feel the rise and fall of his chest behind her, the heat of his body bleeding through the thin fabric of her shift - and every night, he'll go no further than he had that first night, his hands always stopping just shy of actually defiling her. At first, she'd been terribly confused and off-balance. She had offered herself, the Mors King had seemed eager enough to take what she offered... but in the end, he hadn't done anything but tease and tantalize. The threat of his hands tracing over her skin, of his claws scraping gently against her body, was a constant reminder of what he could do if he wanted to but...
In the end, she comes to understand it as some sort of test. To see how true she is to her word that her body is his to use as he pleases or how far he might have to push her before she protests. And so she doesn't resist or fight him. She stays as pliant and yielding as he demands, not even flinching at the brush of his claws or the threat of his presence. And so she remains untouched - and so does Fragaria. ]
Is there really nothing else I can do?
[ It's a dull morning on her second - or maybe third - week at the castle when she approaches with her question. The light in the windows is always sallow, the sickly yellow of an overcast sunset, but she's yet to see a drop of rain or a hint of sunlight. The land here is sickly too, she thinks - and as Saintess, she has some responsibility to do something about it, even if this isn't her land. ]
You said you had all the servants you need but... there must be some sort of chore I can do, something useful that you can assign to me. I'm here for you to use however you please.
no subject
[ Honestly, it wouldn't be wrong to describe the place as "dreadfully boring". The land itself was clearly meant to be lived in by other creatures, but has instead fallen into disarray and neglect... save for the castle, in which the bare minimum amount of upkeep is attended to by the Mors King's mindless "servants" that wordlessly roam the halls... and even then, most of them only serve the purpose of security via patrol.
Still, for a dragon, this didn't really bother him. In the first place, most dragons simply stay in their lairs all the time anyway, and the Mors King is unusual in that regard, seeing as how a castle is fairly unsubtle for a lair.
...but what can he say? He's attached to this place.
Still, the situation is admittedly a little frustrating... the way she barely even flinches at his touch now. Completely pliant and without a single protest...
...well, that is exactly what he demanded of her, he supposes. He really shouldn't be annoyed that she's doing as she's told, but it's becoming clearer to him that this Saintess—false though she may be—will not break.
Yet still unwilling to push past the boundary that he himself has set, he's found himself stuck. Hell, if anything, hasn't he accomodated her more than he's tormented her? The stores of the castle are, for the first time in countless years, stocked with food so that she doesn't starve. She has clothes to wear (albeit only to his personal preference), she can bathe regularly... and though she must sit through being groped all over every night, she's then able to sleep in a warm bed.
...what the hell, has he gone soft!? Ugh... he's in the middle of contemplating how to amp up her torment when she appears before him...
...and quite frankly? Asks something ridiculous of him. ]
...What? Not satisfied with just giving me your body?
[ His words are clearly meant as yet another jab, an insult aimed at her lack of purity despite being a Saintess... but he sounds so bored as he says it that it can only fall flat. Even his tail, normally hidden, droops lazily off to the side. ]
no subject
[ Maybe she would feel differently if he really had gone through with it and actually used her - at the very least, she would have felt much less inclined to make herself useful. But this strange game they've been playing where he toys with her and she yields to him has left her feeling restless. She's bored - something she hasn't had the luxury of feeling in a long time but the novelty has quickly started to wear off. ]
There has to be something that needs doing that your servants can't handle. I might be a fake Saintess, but my magic is still the real thing. So I might as well put it to some use.
[ She's annoyingly... earnest about this whole thing. ]
no subject
[ It's throwing him off more than it should, he realizes. She does realize she's still a captive here, right? Sure, she's free to roam the castle (barring certain sections where Mors Guards will promptly bar her from exploring any further), but it's not like she can leave. A single escape attempt and not only would he kill her, but he'd attack Fragaria in retaliation.
So can he really be blamed for being a little awed at the fake Saintess before him now asking for work to do? Most prisoners would rejoice at not having to do any physical... labor...
...is that what he's doing wrong!? No, what he's doing wrong is not going through with his promises and using her properly... but not putting her to work isn't helping either. ]
...Hmph. Unfortunately for you, my land has no need of a Saintess' magic, fake or otherwise.
[ A bit cruel to the dead and desolate land they're on, but it's not as if he intends to have any subjects
again.There's no point in healing this place, and in the first place, it's too damaged to be healed by one measly saint. ]...but I suppose you're right. These guys are about as dull as dull can get.
[ At the end of the day, even if he assigns them other roles and routines, the Mors are only really good for killing. Anything unrelated to that and the results are either subpar or the bare minimum. ]
no subject
Mm. I've noticed they're not very smart. [ ... she says it in that same unruffled, matter-of-fact voice that somehow makes it worse than if she'd been intentionally trying to insult him. ] They react to things and follow orders but that's about it.
[ Of course, the same could very much be said of her as well, but that's a thread of self-loathing to pick at another time. Anyway! ]
Still, that's all the more reason I should be useful to you. Even if you don't have any need of my magic, surely you won't object to me keeping busy, will you?
[ Not that she's entirely sure what she could keep busy with. She can't cook, she's not strong enough to help with the maintenance of the castle, the grounds outside are barred but even if they weren't, it's not as if she knows anything about gardening. Really, there's no particular skill in any trade that would be helpful for a dragon. But she can't stand the thought of sitting around doing nothing for much longer. ]
no subject
...well, if the Saintess wants to do more than warm my bed, then I suppose I've no reason to refuse. The Saintess, a maidservant... not bad.
[ He brings his clawed hand to his chin, thinking for a moment. He could always just tell her to clean and maintain the entire castle and relish in the impossibility of such a task for only one person, but he'd prefer she actually do something substantial. ]
Fine, you can clean, can't you? The Mors can handle most of the castle, but there are certain chambers I'd like better maintained, mine included. Consider yourself lucky I'm not assigning you to the entire castle.
no subject
I will. I'll do my best to meet your expectations. [ She dips her head in a polite nod. ] Thank you for letting me be of service.
[ And she actually means it, which is the worst part of all. ]
Do you want them to be maintained in any particular way? I've always been told dragons are very particular about their dens.
[ ...not that she's ever heard of a dragon who lives in a castle, but still. ]
no subject
He drowns it out with a laugh at her query. ]
Hah! Particular, huh... you humans have learned to understate it, then? Step into a dragon's den for any reason and you've effectively forfeited your life. Us dragons are a little more than just particular about our dens.
[ So he says, not addressing the fact that he himself is fairly strange for a dragon, even if his strength is unmatched. ]
Just clean it to your human standards. Dust, clutter, the bed... ah.
[ His expression suddenly turns... serious, and yet reminiscent of one of their earlier mornings, when it hit them that Ai had no other clothes to wear. ]
...you are not to touch my wardrobes. Do whatever you want with yours, but stay the hell away from mine.
no subject
It's familiar. Maybe that's why she's so unsettled by it.
So she responds almost thoughtlessly, as she's been trained - a polite bow of the head, the sort of abbreviated curtsy a maid might give the lord of the house. ]
Of course. I wouldn't think of it.
[ She wonders, of course, just what use a dragon has for a wardrobe full of such lovely, well-kept finery, dresses and blouses and skirts in every color of the rainbow and all of them finer than anything she's ever owned or worn herself. Part of her wonders if they're trophies, the remains of other foolish girls like her who'd put themselves at the mercy of a beast like him...
But then she remembers the look of visceral, unfiltered misery that had flashed across his face too quick for him to hide it the moment he'd seen her wearing one of them and the thought quickly fades. ]
I'll start right away, if there's nothing else you need me to do. ... But I'll need cleaning supplies, if you have them.
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Her days haven't changed all that much. She eats, she cleans, she picks her way through the unnervingly well-preserved library just for something to do. Most days, she feels bored rather than anxious. Sometimes, she and the Mors King talk and while she would never be so stupid as to say they get along, a strange understanding seems to have settled between them that feels almost like a ceasefire agreement.
And yet, at the end of every day, her duties haven't changed - the Mors King still has her sleep in his chambers and he still spends as long as he likes exploring her body with his hands. He still hasn't gone any further and she can't make any sense of it - but the more time passes the more she wonders if the Mors King, too, no idea of what he means to do with her.
She still hasn't breathed a word about the portrait she found, after all. ]
... is there really nothing you can do to warm things in here?
[ She asks that all too calmly as she climbs onto the bed, clad as usual in nothing but one of the thin shifts she's always reduced to whenever he's had her undress for the evening. There are goosebumps up and down her arms but her shivers during these minutes before bed have long since stopped being to do with anything but the cold. ]
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[ He's not an idiot, he's noticed it as well. Noticed how her fear has all but receded, even as his claws run along her skin.
It annoys him. The way she looks at him has begun to change... no, it already has changed. In understanding more of her as an individual, she seems to have come to some form of understanding of him in turn.
Imagine that. A single woman understanding him, the most vile dragon to ever roam the world.
...it's not quite the same, and yet the look in her eyes only serves to annoy him more as images of a beautiful red-haired fairy flash through his mind. ]
You needn't worry... I fully intend to warm you up as usual.
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Mm. As usual.
[ She doesn't need to be dragged over this time - she comes close of her own accord, close enough for her knees to bump his thigh and her hair to spill over her shoulder and onto his. If she was once an animal facing a predator's bared teeth, where has all that fear suddenly gone? ]
Then go ahead and do as you please.
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It annoys him, but he begins anyway, his hands running along her body as it always does... teasing, coming close but never close enough. There's a distinct, pleasant scent to her while she's so close... something that his senses have no choice but to pick up on. He's done a good job of hiding it, but... it's allure on him is undeniable. ]
...You've gotten rather used to this, haven't you?
[ So he says as his hands snake along her body, cupping her chest and slipping between her thighs. ]
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Well. What else is there for me to do with my time but get used to it?
[ She doesn't even squirm anymore. She's still too pliant and obedient, nothing at all like the way someone should respond to anyone's touch, let alone a predator, but there's an ease to the way she leans back into his chest and settles under his hands that says she's no longer as reluctant. It's hard to say whether that's a good or a bad thing. ]
And isn't it better for the both of us if I do?
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[ His hands continue to roam as they usually do, but unlike other times, his tail moves around to snake around her waist and add a new sensation to the exploration of her body... not that he isn't already intimately familiar with the curves and shape of her form by now. ]
Maybe so, but... it's less fun for me.
[ Says the one who isn't actually breaking her... ]
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[ That's new. New enough that a little squeak of surprise slips out of her and she tenses just a bit under his touch. But again - the emotion is surprise, not fear or caution.
Why would she be afraid? For all his threats, the promise of violence behind his touch, the Mors King has never actually hurt her. He's made her comfortable in every way a king should accommodate a guest and even this nightly indignity is starting to feel more performative than out of any real desire to distress her. His touch is so careful, it's almost hesitant and though nothing about it is appropriate, he's never actually gone though and defiled her.
She wonders if the Mors King realizes just what a contradiction his behavior is. She wonders, sometimes, if he's the one who's forgotten what she's here for. ]
Then... why do you keep doing it?
[ That had been their agreement, after all. If she'd failed to satisfy him, Fragaria would be forfeit. So why...? ]
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…that’s not for you to question.
[ Because despite everything, how can he claim their agreement to be broken when he hasn’t even indulged in what she offers him?
But she’s right. Why is he still doing this? Why does he contradict himself? He should either do away with this deal or fully indulge in her.
For a second, his hands get a little bolder. One hand massages her chest while the other hovers just between her thighs. It would be so easy to defile her… to reinvigorate the fear she once had.
To finally satisfy himself. To quell that burning heat in him that the Saintess can surely feel in his chest against her back. ]
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...Well, a long time, to say the least.
There's really only one explanation for it. An explanation he has stubbornly kept from her, but he imagines that she's either already figured it out, or will figure it out sooner or later.
As for how he feels about it, well... he's conflicted, to say the least. Yet despite that... ]
Ah, there you are...
[ He grins, already sitting on the bed as she enters the room. It's been a few days since then... and he's oh-so-graciously given her time to recover from their first real night of passion together. It broke away from the standard he had set, when he had groped and explored her body each and every night without hesitation, but...
He supposes being able to sleep with her body so close to his was ample compensation for that.
Still, enough time has passed... at least in his opinion. Her body has recovered enough, and well... the fact that he's here before her for once might be giving away how eager he is, but he's ready to firmly deny that. ]
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It's not as cold in their chambers as it usually is when she arrives - maybe it's because she'd been bathing and the water's warmed her up. It certainly isn't thanks to that frilly, frivolous shift she's been wearing. ]
Heehee. Did I keep you waiting?
[ She tilts her head, eyes twinkling with mischief. Her hair's still damp, clinging to her neck and cheek, and when she climbs up onto the bed beside him, the rest of it is still glittering with water, too. Y-you kind of have to suspect whether or not she's doing it on purpose. ]
Sorry. But you can sleep without me, you know. I won't be offended.
[ ""sleep"". Sure. ]
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Nope. Why would I do that...
[ He slides closer, lifting his claw to her chin. To think that only a few days had left him this needy for her... it's embarrassing, he seriously can't let it show just how much he wants her right now.
His eyes drift down to the mark on her neck... a sinister symbol, reminiscent of his true form... of course, it's just a symbol, that's all... but it's etched deep into her body. Nay, deep into her very soul. Even if she were taken from him, it would remain... forever proof of who she belongs to.
Not to mention a sign of the hell he would raze to reclaim her. ]
You've recovered enough. Tonight, I plan on indulging myself...
[ So he says, regardless of however Ai might feel concerning her own recovery. His claw drifts up from her chin to touch her lips. ]
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And whose fault is it I needed time to 'recover' in the first place?
[ Her voice is chiding, but playfully so - low, warm and teasing. The kind of voice she's never used with him before. ]
You wouldn't have needed to wait if you'd had a little more self control in the first place.
[ But it doesn't seem like she's really scolding him all that much. After all - for all the time she'd needed to recover, it's not as though she hadn't enjoyed it. The comfortable quiet of just sharing a bed had been surprisingly enjoyable but...
Ai knows they're as bad as each other. So is this really a suprise? ]
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[ His tail slowly snakes around to approach Ai from behind, not exactly being subtle about it, but... ]
Sorry, but I intend to treat my treasures properly...
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Don't pin this on me. [ She pulls in another breathy laugh between each kiss. ] You of all people should know how to handle something fragile.
[ Her hand drifts up, combs carefully through his hair and sweeps it back from his face. He's doing a good job of pretending, but that needy expression on his face is so honest and cute, she really can't resist. ]
Are you really this impatient?
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Hah… maybe…
[ His clawed hands take hers by the wrists and lifts them up above her head, just like before. ]
Or maybe the songs you sing under my touch are just that alluring.
[ Just like before, her hands are bound once again… just like they had been bound the night when their relationship completely changed. He’s rather confident in this binding spell, isn’t he…? Since his attention immediately turns to slipping off her shift as if he were unwrapping a meticulously wrapped present. ]
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Oh well. ]
This again... [ She's not quite pouting, but her voice is a little... ] You really don't want me to touch you at all, do you?
[ She squirms a little under his touch. See? Isn't she just so helpless right now? ]
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