𝙳𝚊𝚛𝚔 𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚎(𝙰𝙲𝙾𝚃𝙰𝚁)

𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖙𝖜𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖞-𝖙𝖜𝖔***

"You'll clean the study today," Demetri instructed me as I served him breakfast.

      A month had passed. A month of hoping to be rescued and being disappointed. A month of being his whore. I wanted nothing more than to die.

"I'll be out, but back for dinner," he promised.

       I nodded, not daring to look into his eyes. Not when I'd been beaten for it the day before.

      Being submissive used to come naturally to me, as an Illyrian female. But Iridessa had made sure to change that when she met me. She taught me that I didn't have to bow to every male, or do whatever I was told.

"I expect a full meal ready when I get back," he told me.

"Yes, sir," I said quietly, hating the words as they left my mouth.

      I couldn't get myself into trouble if I was planning on killing him. I had to stay strong, and getting beaten again would only weaken me.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

       The study was a disorganized mess. He had never been an organized male to begin with. I spent the first hour cleaning off the desk.

        I waited everyday for word from my brothers. We'd had an understanding when I stepped forward and took Demetri's hand. Though, we hadn't said a single word. I'd seen it in their eyes.

       I opened a drawer to put some papers away, but I froze.

      My dagger.

      It was there in the drawer. I looked around, though I knew he was not home. I took it out and studied it.

      It could've been a trap. A test. He may have placed in there for me to find so he could find a reason to punish me.

      But I did not care. With the dagger, I would kill him. I tucked it into my dress under the waist band.  I had to tuck it very carefully in the fabric, as the dress barely covered me.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

       I poured Demetri a glass of wine that night, the knife tucked carefully in the folds of my revealing dress.

"How was your day?" he asked me.

"Good," I lied, trying to play a part.

      I had spent the day cleaning while he was away. Also stealing back my rightful belonging. But that was not important.

      He caught my hand, studying the scars he had created centuries ago, and smiled slightly.

"How is your brother?" he wondered. "I hadn't seen the bastard freak in years."

"Don't call him that," I defended.

"Don't tell me what to do," he cautioned. I froze, seeing a familiar fire in his eyes.

"I'm sorry, I just—" I began. "It's not a nice thing to say."

"Since when do you care about being nice?"

"You don't know me," I scoffed, sitting down across from him.

"I owned you," he reminded me. "For six years, you were mine. And there were times when you opened up to me."

"You manipulated me. I was a little girl; I didn't understand. You would hurt me, then you would comfort me. It was confusing. I cried to you and I opened up to you because I had no one else. You would pretend to care, then hurt me again."