The Shadow Prince (HasturTheKing X Leonora)

[HasturTheKing]

Prince Antoine The Bloodthirsty, That was the sobriquet the scribes had assigned to him in their tomes. Whether it referred to his prowess on the battlefield or his general demeanor was the subject of debate for Volatria's citizens. Second-in-line to the throne of Volatria., Antoine did his best to stay out of the spotlight. He was a quiet, reserved man. Mysterious to some degree. While the rest of his lineage embraced the decadence of monarchy, Antoine hid from the spotlight. His guile did not go unnoticed by the citizenry however and rumors about why Antoine remained out of public view spread throughout the kingdom. Many accused him of witchcraft, of communing with infernal beast from far away lands. Others wondered if he was stricken with some illness that kept him bedridden while the rest of his family hosted their prestigious balls. Regardless of the true reason for Antoine’s absence, hideous rumors floated around the man that he could not escape.

Antoine’s bachelorhood was another source of angst among the populace. Now in his early thirties, it seemed unlikely that the prince would ever produce a proper heir. He had been betrothed before but the engagement fell apart before his bride ever took the altar. Struck down with cholera according to Volatria's nobillity though the less reputable members of society proposed that Antoine had poisoned his own bride to remain untethered by a husband's responsibilities. Antoine was a notoriously free spirit after all, unconcerned with the traditions of his own kingdom and heritage.

That’s why the announcement of an engagement to a Duchess from another kingdom had become all the rage in the taverns and guildhalls of Volatria. Could Queen Beatrix’s most rebellious son be tamed by an outsider of all people? It seemed unlikely and yet her arrival to Volatria inched closer with each passing day.

Antoine was not an unattractive man by any stretch of the imagination. He was an imposing figure of great height, broad-shouldered and barrel-chested. Antoine towered over the other members of the royal family and his heavy set frame gave credence to the reputation he had gained in battle. While Volatria was now a nation that enjoyed peace, the athleticism that Antoine had developed while at war still remained. As did his haircut. He had shaved his head before The Battle Of Alnwick and remained bald now, a decade later.

Despite his family’s immense wealth, Antoine was not one for astonicious dress. He traditionally wore a brown tunic over burgundy trousers. The only thing that separated him from your average person was the gold and emerald ring, engraved with his family crest that he wore on his left hand.

Antoine stirred underneath his heavy wool blanket as miniscule beams of light flooded his room. It was a cool spring morning and while The Prince was aware of his future bride's arrival at the castle, he refused to let her appearance upset his daily routine. Stowerling Keep was over two-hundred and fifty years old. For the first two-hundred and forty-one years of its existence, it had served the kingdom as a military installation until the Prince moved out of his parents home. Stowerling Keep sat in a marsh a hundred and fifty miles from the capital of Volatria close to the kingdom's northernmost border. It cut a dramatic figure in the fog soaked marsh that surrounded it. The garrison that served Stowerling numbered sixty-five active soldiers as well three cooks, two butlers and six maids.

It was one of those butlers who found himself stationed outside of Antoine’s door at the moment. "Sir Antoine, your men have spotted a carriage in the distance. I believe it is the woman you called for." Antoine sat straight up at the old man’s words. Robert had worked for the family since he was hired by Antoine’s grandfather. The muscular prince climbed out of bed and dressed himself in a swift manner. His experience in the field came in handy at moments like this. Once dressed, he marched down towards the courtyard to greet his guest.

Despite the rain, Antoine stood authoritatively in the archway of the prestigious castle, a sharp glare on his face as he watched the unfamiliar carriage travel through The Keep's Large courtyard. Antoine felt a slight twinge of nervousness deep down within himself though he hid it well. The Prince had only met the Duchess twice before and both times he came away bewitched with her personality. She was younger than him by a few years and less hardened in her outward demeanor though he knew very little about her. How strange it was to marry a woman you barely knew. As much privilege was afforded to nobility, their relationships were often decided by factors beyond their control. Antoine held no ill will towards the Duchess but all men had their secrets, it was just a matter of how well his new bride would handle his.

 

[Leonora]

The antiquated carriage had been afforded only a small retinue; a single mounted guardsmen at its head, and a posse of three at the rear. It creaked over rocky trails and held fast under the gentle spray of spring rain, which had fallen upon them intermittently throughout the day.

Through the small window, the Grand Duchess gazed vacantly at the rolling hills and mountainous horizons beyond. Sunlight bled through cracks in the clouded canopy and reflected in mossy green eyes, which played upon a pale and forlorn noble visage and held contrast against the oaken shade of her hair.

“Lady Elfriede.” A gentle voice uttered from across the carriage. The Duchess’ attention was pulled away from the window, and she looked to her handmaid in response. “Is it what you expected?”

“I don't know what I was expecting, Tegryn.” She replied, her vision returning to the landscape. “Perhaps something more, um…”

“Grim? Haunting?” The handmaid laughed softly. “Volatria isn’t as dreadful as your storybooks, Duchess. You needn’t fret about silly rumors.”

“Fret? I was rather looking forward to the change in scenery.”

Their exchange was somber, a slight remedy for the lingering pain of leaving home under such circumstances. Elfriede had once been loved; the only daughter of the Ensmerian King and former heir to the lands which beyond. But the death of her mother had sent him mad, and in time, the sickly opinions of his new wife had transgressed upon his own psyche. He now looked to Elfriede in disdain and off-loaded her into wedlock with a dubious name from across the mountain ranges.

“A fitting match, for a pitiful girl.”

His words lingered at the forefront of her consciousness, and yet… she could scarcely understand them. Her interactions with Antoine had been brief affairs, yet he bore no sign of the rumours which plagued him. He had been reserved, and markedly modest in presentation, but such things only pined at her curiosity. Despite everything, she seemed almost content with her fate, willing to offer her hand to a shadowy stranger in exchange for leaving her disjointed family behind.

So vacant were her thoughts that she failed to notice their slow arrival, and she jolted sharply as someone knocked upon her carriage door.

“Lady Elfriede,” the door swung upon, and a guardsman offered her a hand to assist her exit. “Stowerling Keep awaits.”

She moved slowly, almost cautiously as she emerged from her confines. Curious eyes surveyed the battle-scarred architecture of the grand fortress; it was formidable, truly, and a stark contrast to the glistening ivory exterior of Ensmer. Her feet met the masonry of the floor, and she stepped forward into the grey light of the early dawn. Tresses of a royal blue gown pooled eloquently beneath her, laced with fine gold threads and an ornate corset piece. The air was cold, and bit at the exposed flesh of her shoulders as she gripped her forearms for subtle warmth.


Yet, such things did not bother her; rather, her eyes locked upon the stoic figure in the archway, which stood with the same fortitude as the militant architecture around her. A lump formed in her throat, and something fluttered nervously in her stomach. She found herself momentarily speechless as the weight of reality fell down upon her.


After a moment, she paced forward a short distance, and dipped her head in a curt, lady-like bow.


“Prince Antoine, your highness,” she spoke, her voice a melodic whisper, “a pleasure to meet you again.”

 

[HasturTheKing]

Antoine shook his head at the Lady’s bow. "I can assure you, Elfriede, that such trivialities are not needed between us. Now is far from the time for banal traditions. " There was an unshakable sense of authority to the Prince’s tone, his inflection similar to that of the guardsmen who had escorted Lady Elfriede to the keep. His eyes turned towards the retinue for a moment before he spoke once more. "Your men may stay in the guardhouse tonight if they wish, though I’m sure your father would like them back home as soon as possible." Antoine narrowed his gaze at one of the men. "I assume you found no trouble on the road?"

The Prince was fairly confident in his supposition, while Volatria had its fair share of bandits, they rarely committed their crimes within its borders. Banditry was a far safer proposition outside of the realm due to Volatria’s militaristic heritage. "As for Tegryn, she can stay as long as she wishes. I’m sure my staff would be ecstatic to have her now that they have to keep this place in order for two nobles instead of one." Antoine's tone shifted as he spoke of the maiden. He was well aware of the servant class's devotion to their masters and was confident that the lady would be fiercely protective of Elfriede. As such, he treated her with constrained humility. While the Prince had his reservations about marriage, he was still a duty bound man and took great care to keep Elfriede content. A second failed engagement was the last thing his already grim reputation needed at the moment.

“With regard to your luggage, My men will be more than glad to take it inside for you.” Antoine hesitated for a brief second. “Our bedroom is the room at the end of the hall on the third floor.” The broad-shouldered noble glanced towards Elfriede as those words left his lips. He wondered how she would react to such a blunt announcement of potential intimacy between the unfamiliar pair. While Antoine was aware of how uncouth his words were, he was also mindful of the fact that such salacious awkwardness was inevitable between them. No amount of tact could cover up the fact that they had been manifestly brought together as lovers by their families. As Antoine’s eyes judged Lady Elfriede’s response, the expression on his face changed greatly from one of stately reserve to that of brutish lust. It was a powerful stare, not unlike the one he would give to his enemies on the battlefield. Though it was now mixed with an undeniable lecherousness. A silent beacon to Prince Antoine’s inner conqueror. The expression only lasted for a moment and the Prince was careful to make sure that only Lady Elfriede saw it.

While Antoine prided himself on his curtness, he could be subtle when he wanted to be. In the past he had been careful to look at Elfriede with silent contemplation as opposed to the passion he had shown to her in that moment. “Lunch should be served within the next hour. I would appreciate it if you ate with me in the private dining room as opposed to the hall, Elfriede. There we can discuss the more pertinent matters of our arrangement without inquisitive interruption. I’m sure that you have quite a few questions of your own about our union.” With those words, Antoine turned sharply on his heels and disappeared into the grand interior of Stowerling Keep. While he was eager to talk to Elfriede, Antoine thought it was more appropriate to give her time alone to adjust to her new home.

Stowerling Keep’s interior was furnished with a mixture of Volatrian militaria and ornate décor. Large paintings of Antoine’s ancestors hung on its grey stone walls flanked by colorful panes of glass handcrafted by the finest artisans the kingdom had. Well-worn swords and axes sat on display in Cherrywood cabinets dotted throughout its floor plan. Elegant tapestries woven with the coat of arms of Volatria were present. Whether these were ornaments chosen by Antoine himself or simply put up by his staff was not immediately clear. They seemed a bit too sentimental for the gruff demeanor that Antoine usually possessed.

Antoine spent the next hour and a half in the backyard range. While the bow was not the Prince’s preferred weapon, he was known to enjoy the odd fox hunt here or there. Despite his relative inexperience with the weapon, his large muscular frame made the manipulation of large war bows effortless. He was a formidable archer even without the skill that more refined marksman had.

When the time for lunch arrived, Antoine found himself in the ancillary dining room just as he said he would. The room was furnished with a small rectangular table made of ebony. The table only sat six people and looked more like a table meant for a family then the large cedar ones that graced the dining hall. It was obviously quite old from its construction but still in fine shape due to its rare use. A large roast garnished with carrots and potatoes sat on a silver tray in the middle of the table.

Antoine poured himself a proper glass of dark red liquid as the meal began. “I must admit that when my fathers emissary gave me the news of our parents' settlement. I was quite shocked by it. From our previous interactions, I thought you merely saw me as a talented general and nothing else. I’m still in disbelief that this whole situation is even real.” There was a relaxed openness in the Prince’s speech that was unusual for him. “Then again, the ways of your kind have always confused me. Obsessed with futile decadence but blind to the hedonistic pleasures of physicality. If you truly are interested in becoming my wife then you should be aware that I’m quiet the physical person in every sense of the word.” Antoine took a long sip of the stiff alcohol that filled his cup.

“That is why those foolish rumors of some demonic influence over me are so prevalent. While I admire the peasantry of this kingdom they remain willfully ignorant of the pleasures of debauchery. They believe that sodomy is some grand sin against nature. Well I can assure you that if it is a sin then it is the most pleasurable sin that I have ever experienced.” Antoine’s eyes grew wide at his own vulgarity, a momentary slip of the mask that he tried so hard to maintain. He took a deep breath and composed himself before he spoke again.

“Beyond your reason for being here, I’m quite curious about your background. I know that your mother recently died and that your father married a rather frigid women from my experience but I’m curious as to what your education was like. Do you have any particular hobbies that I need to account for? I’d be more than happy to get you an ostler or a potter if you wish.”

 

[Leonora]

Elfriede’s etiquette took no pause despite Antoine’s dismissal of her curtsy, for it had long been engraved into the forefront of her demeanour. Opulent manners and presentation were a stark expectation of her particular brood, lest she tarnish the name of her homeland.

The frank concept of sharing a room did indeed leave her subtly aghast. She had though about it before in passing, though elected not to dwell on it. But the thought of it now… it stirred in her mind and plucked at her nerves. Such were the duties of marriage, though she had perhaps chosen to ignore it, much like how she tried to disbelieve the lecherous way he stared at her.

“Yes, of course…” There was a hint of hesitation in her tone, though a gentle smile lingered on her features. “I would be happy to attend.” A woollen cloak was draped over her shoulders by Tegryn, lest she catch a cold before even settling down for the day.

Her morning hours were spent with careful wandering, surveying the interior of what was to be her home. She didn’t stray far from her course to the bedroom, rather electing to focus on routing her way to and from the entrance at first. She took in the stone masonry and the regalia which adorned the walls, noting how contrasting it was to the sculpted alabaster of her beloved palace. It almost seemed… enclosed. Grand, yet narrow; a royal warren, perhaps, or ornate prison.

Even more daunting was the bedroom; grand, yet terribly foreign. An unfamiliar territory she was elected to share with Antoine. Her belongings had already been deposited at the time of her arrival, and Tegryn was working consistently to organise them. The young handmaiden had attended the Duchess for only two years, but she had become a beloved friend, nonetheless.

“I’m glad you’re with me.” She breathed, perching herself at the nearby dresser. Tegryn looked upward from her makings, her head tilting subtly.

“My Lady… why do you look so forlorn? I had never seen you happier, than when you were given news of your betrothal.”

“Yes, but now that I’m here, I just—“ her words trailed, plagued by uncertainty. “I’m homesick, no doubt. I’ve never been so far from home.”

“Of course,” Tegryn offered a comforting smile. “You’ll settle quickly here, I’m sure. He’s… different, but he’s no house-wrecking baroness.”

The Duchess laughed, grimly humoured by the thought of the wickedness granted by her father’s new wife.

“Let’s get you out of that dress — you’re entitled to a change of clothing after such a journey, at least.”

____________________ ​

She arrived to lunch at the allotted time, slightly taken aback by the somewhat intimate confines of the smaller dining room. Elfriede had taken her seat across from him, though she found herself struggling to muster an appetite, likely from the nerves which fluttered terribly in his presence. She had been charmed by his unconventional demeanours, no doubt, but when faced with the concept of marriage she found herself teetering on dreadful anxiety.

She listened to him intently, though she was visibly taken aback by his almost salacious bluntness. Sodomy? Her gaze averted for a moment, raising a glass to her lips to stave away the terrible awkwardness that welled in her chest. Would she be expected to…? Her heart beat loudly in her chest, and she swallowed a prudent sip of wine along with the lump that had formed in her chest.

“I’m afraid I can’t make comment on such things.” She laughed softly under her breath, perhaps trying to make light of it. “Honestly, I… I had no choice in our engagement. If not you, then it would have been some other.” Her gaze focused on candlelight, a sigh drawing from her lips. “But I’m glad it was you, truly. A talented general indeed, but also remarkably interesting. I had always known better than to fall for silly rumours, so I can only apologise for the behaviour of my peers, they… have an aptitude for being superstitious. I, on the other hand, am quite motivated to learn what it is that makes them so wary of you.”

A humoured smile played at her delicate features, though they seemed to sink at the question of her family.

“My hobbies are scarce I’m afraid. In the absence of my mother, I was our family’s treasurer, before my father remarried and the title was reallocated. But… I was once privy to accompanying trail hunts. Do you hunt, at all? Perhaps I might borrow a horse, sometime.”

 

[HasturTheKing]

Antoine grinned as Elfriede averted her gaze from him. Her nervousness piqued his interest though he was hesitant to push her on the matter abruptly. The Prince’s fingers gripped his knife tightly as The Duchess explained how little agency she had in their arrangement. “Sometimes our greatest privilege can also be our strongest curse. I often wonder what sort of person I would be without the influence of the crown on my youth. Would I still be a great soldier if it were not for the nature of my birth? Would I still feel as though I owed such a great debt to the people of this kingdom that I would put myself in harm's way for their benefit? I like to think of myself as a man of conviction and courage. That I fought for my nation because it was my duty and not because it was my birthright but I’m not convinced that is the truth of my own soul.” Antoine paused to take a bite of roast.

Antoine smiled softly at Elfriede’s admission of curiosity about his true nature and the rumors that surrounded him. Even if their origins were far more malevolent than what The Duchess expected, it still felt good for Antoine to be a source of mystery to his potential bride. Despite Elfriede's displeasure at the mention of her family, The Prince was quick to respond to her request for a horse.

“I do hunt occasionally though not as much as I would like. I was quite the avid hunter in my youth. My father never took to the pursuit but I did. The annual bear hunt was seen as a way for the nobility to build camaraderie so my father was obligated to go as king. I did so out of my own volition however. “ The Prince took a long sip of wine from his chalice.

“I would be more than happy to request a horse for you if you wish. For now, you could ride Ares if you wish. He’s a bit older but still in fine shape. I rode him on my last campaign before I put away my saber for good. Apollo is the younger of the personal pair I own and the one I ride most frequently on the rare occasion that the staff allows me to do so. If the men who served with me at the battle of Alnwick could see how placid I have become in my retirement, they would be floored." Antoine sighed softly at his own revelation.

“Are you by chance unfamiliar with the blade, Elfriede? I would be quite eager to teach you how to parry and strike if you wish. You know, all the women within Artria are trained in the sword. It’s a part of our national heritage. Every citizen is given a sword on their sixteenth birthday as a sign of their arrival into maturity. At Least that’s the folklore around the tradition. Personally I think it has more to do with the fact that our nation was born out of conflict. We were once a part of the kingdom to the west but one of their great general’s defected from their army and founded this entire nation with his platoon. Well, they actually took control of the settlement that would become our capital but that doesn’t sound as impressive in the history books. He’s said to be a distant relative of mine according to the scribes. I don’t know how much I believe in that but that’s the reason for my family's royal blood. The Prince used his fork to accentuate his thoughts as he spoke. While he was aware how monotonous his description of the past was, he still felt it was important for his potential wife to know about the history of their kingdom.

Antoine was a noted historian aside from his military prowess. His family were the only people with access to the entire written history of Volatria and Antoine was seen as the only member of the royal family with any interest in the history of the region. Most of his family was far more interested in the political machinations of the empire then ancient tomes of their people’s heritage.

As The Prince finished his meal, he let a wave of silent tension fill the room. The rugged behemoth carefully placed his silverware onto his plate and swallowed the last bit of sweet liquor from his goblet. With their meal at a close, Antoine slid his chair back and exited his position at the table. Without a word he strolled towards Elfriede and reached for her hand, His hefty frame even more statuesque from her seated position. If The Duchess resisted his touch for some reason, he would pull her hand with repressed force. Antoine was careful not to hurt his fiancée but he was far stronger then her and if she wished to test his mettle, he was eager to show her just how forceful he could be. While The Prince held her supple hand in his, he reached for the depleted candle still sat on the table behind him.

“Do you still wish to know why I have such a loathsome reputation among the populace, my dear?” Antoine asked rhetorically with a sly grin on his face. Without hesitation he titled the candlestick towards Elfriede’s open palm, warm bits of wax dripped onto her tender flesh as Antoine stared deeply into her eyes. A genuine look of affection on his face as he did so. He had played with the substance before and was well-aware that while the heat of the wax was uncomfortable, the candle did not burn hot enough to do any serious damage.

Antoine leaned forward to place a soft kiss on Elfriede’s forehead as he returned the pricket to its place on the table. He inhaled sharply as though he was about to speak but instead turned pointedly on his heel and exited the room. Whatever emotions Antoine wanted to express at the moment would have to wait until they met once more in the night.

 

[Leonora]

"Bear hunting!" She laughed softly, tucking a loose strand of her behind her ear. "I've seen little beyond boars and deer, I'm afraid. I'd leave the bears for the true hunters."

Elfriede's interest was held captive by Antoine's affinity for knowledge, and she listed intently at his brief recollection of history and smiled softly at the offering of his horse. Her home stables were populated by racing mares, and she humored herself silently with the thought of trying to rally a retired warhorse. She found herself truly taken aback, however, by the prospect of her wielding a blade.

"Truly?" She asked, rendered surprised by the concept of female swordsmen. "No, I... My father thought of such things as being too improper. Unladylike, even. But I'm almost certain I can learn, if you'd offer the time." She brought the wine to her lips, if only to taste it, remaining ever-wary of alcohol in the presence of such important company. He stood as she did so, and her eyes lifted curiously to meet his form. She found herself swallowed by his shadow -- had he always been so tall? Her nerves seemed to shudder, if only slightly, as though her body were suddenly telling her to flee.

She ignored such hasty thoughts, believing herself to know the man well enough to not feel threatened by him. Still, as he took her hand, she recoiled on instinct. Such motion was met by resistance as her palm was held in place, and her lips parted as if to speak. Elfriede watched as the candle was lifted from its place, and her heart skipped a beat as she anticipated pain.

The wax dripped upon her palm and she grimaced at the fleeting ache, her fingers twitching as the heat burned briefly before quickly cooling. The conflict of emotions was unsettling, though she could feel the gesture of affection placed at her forehead. She was rendered speechless, left alone to her thoughts in the now empty dining room.

The rest of her afternoon was spent in deep contemplation as she tread the grounds outside. She held her cloak close to her person, and quickly noticed that both guardsmen and domestic servants seemed far too wary to even speak to her. It was understandable, perhaps; she was a foreigner, and one of high standing at that. Still, she wondered if they would ever warm up enough to greet her. She paced the courtyard and its training quarter, and wandered along the stables so that she might glimpse the horse she had been bid to ride. The castle grounds certainly upheld practicality over form, though she somehow found herself pining for the colorful flora of her home.

The dimming horizon brought forth a new dilemma; was it normal to share a bed before the ceremony? A passing guard had kindly reminded her that it was dangerous to be outside after dark, and had awkwardly escorted her indoors, and yet she found herself unsure of where to place herself next. She stood outside the bedroom in contemplation, eventually willing herself to enter.

It was empty, at least for now, and she found herself partly relieved by the fact. Her forlorn gaze looked to the bed, and she wondered if she should wait for him, or dress down for the night beforehand. Her heart fluttered in her chest, and she stared at the flesh of her palm, remembering the peculiarity of their last interaction.

At the very least, the leather-bound books which lined the shelves would captivate her attention for some time.

 

[HasturTheKing]

Prince Antoine spent the afternoon secluded in his study, far from the routine activities of the household staff. He thumbed through a number of salacious tales written by the realm's most neoteric artist. Although the public often portrayed him as a man too unrefined for the arts, he enjoyed a good ghost story as much as the next person. While the scripts offered him a familiar comfort, he struggled to free his mind of Lady Elfriede’s presence. He yearned for her in a way that gave him a sense of genuine discomfort. Her maiden charm had plucked the devious strings of his psyche. The Prince glanced out of his manor as the sun set in the horizon, its façade now tinged with the pale hue of moonlight.

Lost in literature, Antoine arrived in his bedroom far later than he usual. Without a knock, he entered with laggard steps. Despite his muscular frame he was nimble enough to enter the room with a modicum of stealth. “Interested in my journals, Lady Elfriede?” Antoine questioned as he smiled softly, his eyes fixed on The Duchess from the doorway. Despite the perspiration that graced his fingertips, Antoine’s face showed no signs of his internal hesitance. Feigned bravado in the face of genuine uncertainty was a crucial skill for any general and Antoine possessed it in great measure.

Antoine’s chamber was lavishly furnished. Before his luxurious sleigh bed, sat a tawny bear skin rug. A bookcase filled with hand-written journals rested against the right wall with a small leather chair sat next to it. A large armoire made of cherry oak sat on the opposite wall. The room was sparsely lit despite its spacious interior. Two large candle stands sat beside his bed were the only light source within its confines. It’s only windows, a few arrow slits at the corners of the room. When Stowerling Keep had been an active military fortress, the room served as an ancillary treasury.

The Prince could feel the tension in the room rise as he trotted towards Elfriede with a sense of malevolence hidden by stoic resolve. He carefully positioned himself a few inches from The Duchess, his potent visage illuminated by candlelight. “ I hope this arraignment isn’t too forward of me.” Antoine titled his head coolly to indicate his impassivity at the situation. “I just think that if our goal is to become wed then any fallacious separation of us under the pretenses of good taste is an unnecessary blockade to our fate. All arranged marriages exhibit a wickedness to them that can't be stymied by good manners in the end.”

Antoine allowed his words to linger before he leaned his head closer to Elfriede, his warm breath present on her flesh as he spoke once more. “I must admit that you’ve presented me with quite the conundrum, Elfriede. I wish to defile you and worship you in equal measure.” His words dripped with lust, free of the pretentiousness that he projected in their earlier interactions.

“Are you a virgin?” Antoine’s heart fluttered gently at the bluntness of his question. He contemplated the woman’s expression with the gaze a snake offered a rat coiled in its tail. Regardless of how the Lady responded to his inquiry he would turn away just as he had earlier in the afternoon. This time he did not leave her presence for long however.

Antoine drifted towards his bed, his back turned to Elfriede as he grasped the corners of his tunic tightly and dragged the cloth over his head. A small shiver ran up his spine as his flesh was exposed to the cool night air for the first time. His bare form as toned as his clothed form indicated. While it was clear that he was a bit leaner in his youth, he still retained the muscular build of a soldier in retirement. It was clear from the old scars along his shoulder blades that his body was built more for practicality than aesthetics. The degradation of the wounds over time made their origins a mystery. From the way he undressed himself it was clear that Antoine was not a man unfamiliar with nudity.

For the first time in their relationship, Antoine felt vulnerable when he disrobed before Elfriede. While he enjoyed the influence he had on The Duchess, he knew their relationship would not endure without a proper balance of surrender between them. As such he turned to her with an austere expression on his face, curious as to how she would respond to his inaction.