🌸 to offer my muse a flower. -- From Miles, of course!
'your affection' prompts . accepting
The courtesan closed the doors to her home with a heavy sigh - as much as Melissa had been used to carrying that name and identity everywhere, it was still a burden to bear. To exploit the tragic destiny of her own country for survival was not something she was proud of - but nor did the woman carry any guilt for simply doing what she had to endure.
And now that she was the rightful owner - as the imperial law dictated - of Miles, things had become even more muddled in her heart. It had been easier when he had been just another soul with a horrifying past and enslaved against his will, as many other bearers. But knowing that he was the man who she once owed loyalty and respect to?
It was difficult to reconcile her lifestyle and the true spirit of a Rosarian; even if Elwin had told his mistress directly that he held her accountable for nothing after the fall of the grand duchy, Melissa found it something hard to swallow. The courtesan - she was unworthy of his kindness. Lilian had created 'Melissa', mocked her ancestry and heritage to make some gil out of it, and all the material comforts surrounding them felt rotten.
The brunette was not the paragon of kindness her employees saw her to be - it was all to soothe a guilt conscience and nothing more.
It was with such thoughts that Melissa eventually moved from the hall to her room - the pain hiding in honeyed eyes dulled the overall splendor of her attire and jewelry; as if the radiating sun of a warmer land she was supposed to emulate had been dimmed. It was, however, temporary - as soon as Melissa entered her chambers and saw something on her vanity, the woman's entire disposition changed.
A bouquet - something so ordinary and so simple, even frequently earned from clients and admirers. But while most of them were made out of wyvern tails or other typical imperial blooms, that was a different kind: it was made out of roses, and of a very peculiar color at that. They had always reminded the young Lily, as a noblewoman visiting Rosalith on occasion, of the flames of their most important and prized eikon: the Phoenix.
It was as if the petals had been dipped into a beautiful sunset - and Melissa couldn't resist pulling it up, delicately touching the roses and inhaling their fragrance. Sweet, memorable - like home. The courtesan had almost forgotten that smell, and yet a whiff was all it took to transport her to years and years before, when her current identity was not a reality and the Rosarian banner was still hanging from her parents' estate.
A tiny piece of paper was attached to the blooms - the calligraphy was one she had learned to recognize from other documents, but for once it was not from any household administration materials but rather a personal note to her. A simple 'from Miles' was included there, and a blush crept to the woman's cheeks upon realizing she had needed that visual aid to come to the obvious conclusion.
Of course these had been from him - who else missed Rosaria as much as she did, if not even more?
Picking up the flowers, Melissa moved from room to room - looking not only for a suitable vase for them, but also for their sender. Unsurprisingly, the courtesan found the royal-turned-bearer in his chamber, reading something - however Miles paused when her figure hovered at the entrance, noticing the lady of the house immediately. For a moment - neither of them said a word; their eyes did the talking.
It was the woman who broke the spell - as she had done before, by pushing him into walls or discarding all the protocol which had been owed to one of higher station and hierarchy. Melissa walked up to his bed, took a seat by his side and then carefully closed the distance between them - managing the flowers at all times, afraid to crush them due to the anxiety flowing in her veins alongside guilt, desire and affection.
The kiss was placed against the former archduke's cheek - dangerously close to the edge of his lips, but not yet there. Miles perhaps could hear and feel it all: the drumming of her heart, the heat of Melissa's skin and the excitement that made her act so boldly, even if there was still remorse weighing her back, akin to an anchor.
"Thank you for these," the courtesan murmured, pulling apart but barely so; enough only to look at him, "Thank you for soothing some of the pain, Elwin."
