decorator | tear away the gown that i'm wearing, this tiara was not meant for me

[ 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.

[ 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. ]

[ 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. ]

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