After taking on her father's punishment, Bellona finds herself imprisoned at a castle with Larek, a man who has an incessant need to self-depreciate himself despite being decently attractive, and a contingent of sentient objects.
Needless to say, it's a confusing time all around.
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5
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When they arrived back at his castle, Bellona struggled to accept he'd fought half a dozen wolves. And, though he didn't come out unscathed - bloodied and limping - his attitude took an upturn. He couldn't stop grinning or regaling the fight to her or the animated objects that acted as his servants, even as she tended his wounds and berated him for being so foolhardy. "You could have died!"
"It's this weak body to blame," huffed a shirtless Larek, nose wrinkling as he thumped himself on the chest. With his arm raised, he inspected his bicep, making a scoffing sound after a beat. As if the muscle he had was a joke.
"Just... be more careful. We all have our limits." There was no point in pursuing the argument. He'd just reiterate his body was just too frail, as if he'd experienced life in a different vessel. Whether it was delusion or self-depreciation, Bellona hadn't decided. Though she had a hard time believing it was the latter.
She took great care not to stare at his half-nude form. It wasn't as if she needed to look. The brief glimpse she had taken earlier was burned into her memory. Broad shoulders, the slopes of muscular arms, the lines of hard muscle awarded from years of toil, the litany of scars that decorated his body.
Thankfully, her brain wasn't allowed to dwell on the image long as Larek pointedly muttered, "Last time I set limits, someone overstepped them."
"You refused to tell me why I shouldn't go to the west wing!" She shot back, attention turning to his face as a frown carved over her lips. Heat warmed her cheeks as he met her gaze. He had demanded she never enter his wing of the castle, with no explanation! Just a demand. Part of her knew she had done wrong, though. Yet another part rallied. Who needed the seclusion of a whole wing of a castle?
Mentioning his room reminded her of what she saw. Furniture broken to pieces. Paintings and tapestries torn to shreds. A broken mirror, shards falling to the floor. One thing remained intact among all the carnage. A single glass dome housing a floating red rose, under which fallen petals accumulated. Just as she was about to touch the fascinating flora, Larek stormed into the room and roared at her. Which led to her fleeing.
He was unmoved by her explanation. The furrow between his brows deepened. "I shouldn't have to explain that for you to respect the boundary."
The two glared at each other, fire crackling behind them. She considered doubling down and giving into her obstinance. All he had to do was explain his reasonings! It wasn't such an outrageous request on her part. Especially since he was keeping her here, after threatening to imprison her father.
Yet, another part of her relented a little. She had offered herself up, in place of her father. Larek had simply taken her up on the offer. With the run of the castle - save for his wing, of course - it wasn't altogether terrible. Well, until she blatantly disregarded the one restriction he gave her while she was inside the castle.
In any other situation, his reasons would not matter. He had the right to draw a boundary.
"I'm sorry," she sighed. Her focus shifted back to wrapping a bandage around his forearm. "Though, I ask you to understand. I've lost my freedom -"
At that, Larek visibly tensed with irritation. "You made the deal!"
"Because you threatened to imprison my father!" Her brows lowered, a frown curving over her lips as they, once again, leered at one another. Neither entirely happy with the other or their situation. After a beat, Bellona forced herself to relax, letting her shoulders sag. "Anyway, I've lost my freedom. I'm feeling a little chafed, I suppose. I'm sorry for upsetting you."
Larek huffed, chin in his hand as he turned his eyes away from her, toward the roaring flames of the fireplace. Bellona returned her attention to his wounds, treating and wrapping awful looking gashes. To his credit, he never winced or whined. That did little to ease the swelling guilt in her chest, though. If it wasn't for her nosiness, he wouldn't have such numerous injuries.
When the guilt became so unbearable, when she thought her chest would burst, Bellona mumbled, "Thank you, by the way."
"Hmm?" His eyes flicked to her, eyebrows raised.
"Thank you for saving me," she repeated, keeping her eyes on his forearm. She had finished bandaging it, so only guilt and embarrassment kept her eyes from his. "You didn't have to go after me."
A strained beat of silence strung between the two. The heat in Bellona's cheeks burning beneath his attention.
"I'm sorry for roaring at you. I know how hu..." Larek cut himself off abruptly. That did draw her curious attention, an eyebrow cocked. He shook his head, clearing his throat as he finished, "I should know better."
After that evening, the atmosphere in the castle shifted. Slightly.
Larek still snarled and grumbled, stomping as he walked as if he were trying to feel bigger than what he was. But there was something slightly different about him.
She couldn't really put her finger on it. Perhaps a softness in his gaze. Or maybe she caught his attention on her a bit more often, when he thought she wasn't looking. Then again, perhaps she was projecting. He had saved her and that would, realistically, appeal to something inside her. Wouldn't it?
That thought sent Bellona poking about the castle, actively avoiding him. She trotted about his home and the grounds, trying to listen out for his footfalls so she may head the opposite way.
In her daily wanderings, she quickly realized something always seemed off in and around the castle. As she stared at the paintings and tapestries, the weapons and armor, a thought itched at the back of her head. It was as if she should notice something. But, the moment she turned away from whatever she focused upon, all thought of the object dissipated.
She'd only remember when her gaze fell toward the object again. Each time, her brows would furrow, recollecting all the times before and wondering how she'd forgotten. If she focused too hard on it, a pain throbbed at her temples.
Then Larek or one of the sentient objects would beckon to her. She'd turn, forgetting her discontent as she answered the call. Only to recall the curiosity and frustration over the object, all over again, when she saw it next.
---
Since her wanderings were varied and without schedule, Bellona would find herself inadvertently listening in on Larek with his animated companions on occasion. They almost always spoke in hushed tones, sometimes with heated tones. Bellona lingered just outside the doorway of the kitchen on one particular incident. It was late and she had already retired to bed after dinner, before the itch of hunger tugged her from bed to find a snack.
She slowed as she neared the kitchen, noting the flicker of candlelight and the voices inside. There were no sounds of dishes being washed or food being prepped for the next day. With her back pressed to the wall, trying to stay to the shadows, curiosity had her listening in.
"I really think you should tell her," sniffed the prim voice of the teapot, Miss Chai.
"No," Larek replied, sounding tired and put out. A shadow moved over the doorway, making Bellona shirk a little further into the dark hall, as he paced by. "I won't be able to trust her feelings are genuine."
"Piss on genuine feelings!" That was Fruk, a rather ironically abrasive feather duster. From the sound of their voice, their feathery appendages would be fluffing like an angry cat's tail. "You just need to fulfill the requirements."
"We don't even know what will fulfill it," countered the smooth voice of Miss Lumi, the candelabra. As she spoke, the telltale squeak of her metal 'arms' gesticulating sounded.
The way they spoke to him was odd, like everything else. Little reverence and much familiarity. Though, he also thought he was a hideous creature and they were talking objects. Typical wasn't their style.
"I don't like this situation any better than the rest of you-"
"Easy for you to say, you have hands still!" Fruk interrupted. Bellona could imagine the duster raising up to feathers, like they were arms to illustrate their point.
There was a beat of silence. Something in the air fizzed across her shoulders, reminding her how the air would change around Larek when he was annoyed. Once it passed, the man continued, "But, if we tell Bellona, if she feels she is obligated to help, isn't that coercive?"
Silence fell after that. Bellona was about to move, when Causton's - a mantelpiece clock - measured words came forth, "We're past that point, Larek. You're already keeping her hostage."
Again, silence fell. This time, it was as if someone typically placid had struck another. Everyone holding their breath, waiting to see what would happen next.
With the atmosphere snapping with irritation, Bellona decided to sneak back to her room. Judging by how the conversation was going, waltzing in now would only worsen Larek's already fouling mood. It might even inspire a mutiny among the others, as well. Besides, the pang of hunger was easily ignored. The conversation fed her curiosity through the trip back to her room and well into the night, as she drifted off to sleep.
