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Ravenna woke up with a pounding headache and pain all over her body.
It was a dull throbbing, that ached until she felt it in her bones.
Against her aching skin were silk sheets and a firm weight. Hard, warm, and had their arm wrapped around her waist.
She didn't know what day it was or how long she had been asleep. Her memories from the ceremony were spotted, some parts fading completely.
When she got her Mark she remembered her eyes blurring, then a scream. She had a feeling that it was her own but she didn't trust herself enough to be sure.
She started to try and get out of the mess she was tangled in. But the arms around her waist were so tight, and every time she pulled away the strain got even tighter.
"Stop moving." He mumbled, deep and groggy.
"I feel stiff and achy." She whined, wanting to walk even if moving hurt.
"Makes sense. You've been sleeping for two days."
"Two days?" She gasped.
"Mhm, and for most of that you just sat by the fire and glared at me until I forced you in bed last night." She could hear his smirk.
"Did I...hurt anyone?" She said timid, worried for the answer.
"You gave Nott a kitten scratch." He chuckled.
"Mattheo that's not funny." She glared at the wall.
"I never said it was." He spat.
She looked around, actually paying attention to the details of the room. The dark wood and green walls. The bed frame was a beautiful deep brown color. The entire room consisted of the three colors, and there was almost no light despite the fact it was the middle of the day. She could see the sunlight peaking through the thick black curtains.
"Whose room is this?" She said as she watched the green fire dance.
"Mine." She could feel his warm breath on her hair.
Her eyes wandered all over the room. It was so void of personality. No pictures or personal items. Goosebumps rose all over her.
The thought was so foreign to her. In all of her sad, painful, miserable life, the one place she could have to herself was a room. Even if the room she was throne in was dreary and small, she always tried to make it her own.
To hold onto the little piece of humanity left inside her.
"It's so cold" she whispered, backing into him.
He hated this room. Your bedroom was supposed to be a safe space. All a room meant for him was torture, loneliness, and the simple reminder that he was trapped.
