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If someone had told her that one day, she'd be a free woman, Niobe would have laughed. Free? Her? No, that was impossible. She'd been born a slave and would die a slave. That was her fate. She had seen it happen time and time again, there would never be a different outcome for her. She'd long accepted that. Yet somehow...somehow, she was now sitting in her very own room, wearing the finest night dress she'd ever seen, stomach fuller than had ever been in years and free.
Free. It hardly seemed real. He hardly seemed real. Elias of Stravos - the man who freed her. He hadn't known her, hadn't owed her anything. Any other man would have walked away and left her in that street to die. Plenty of people, men and women, had chosen to mind their own business that day. So why hadn't he? She hadn't the nerve to ask him. Truthfully, she spoke very little at all, not to him and not to his staff. She didn't know how to. All her life she was silent. She did as she was told, kept her head down, survived. That was all she could do. Now she was being asked to live. Not just survive. She didn't know what to do with herself. Everything felt wrong, the clothes, the shoes, the food, him. She had known plenty of men like him before, or at least that's what she told herself. Men like him take and take and take. They do not ask. They're entitled and cruel and any day now he was going to pull the rug from out under her feet. He had to; he was a man.
But days turned into weeks and weeks turned into months and she was still here. And he was...different. Kind, in a way. He took her seriously, her health, her happiness, her wants and needs. He never forced himself upon her or anything else. He did not mind her silence and when she did speak, he listened intently. He did not shy away from her thorns, nor punished her for having them. He was patient. Gradually she began to look forward to his visits. She began to trust him.
Cold air blew in from her open window, lifting dark curls off her shoulders as she tilted her chin upward to meet it. The hem of her night dress rose further up her dangling legs, which she kicked back and forth absentmindedly over the edge. She had no candles lit and the manor itself was asleep; no one was there to see her. So, she sat and listened to the crashing waves below her and warily watched the dark clouds roll in. The storm would be here soon. Dark clouds never bode well for her, not when bolts of light flashed inside them. It wasn’t lightning in itself that bothered her, but the thunder that followed closely behind. She hated thunder. No, she hated what it reminded her of. She never learned his name, had never cared. But she remembered the violence. She had not seen that bastard since she'd been a girl of fifteen, when he died and his family sold her, yet the memory was branded into her memory. Of all the masters she'd served before, she hated him the most. He'd been a monstrosity of a man who never seemed able to just walk - he stomped, so hard he rattled the ground beneath him like thunderclaps.
It did not matter that it had been years ago. As the dark clouds drifted closer and closer, Niobe felt fear seize her chest. She was suffocating on it. Her hands were balled tight in her lap, nails cutting crescent moon shapes into her palms, but she didn't feel it. Niobe willed herself to be brave, as she had done many nights before. She was safe, it was only a storm. She was stronger than this. She had been through worse and never flinched - to cower now would be stupid.[/font] You have to get over this. You're safe, he can't harm you anymore. If only she believed it.
The storm was here. A flash of lightning lit up the sky just as rain began to fall. Quickly pulling herself back from her window, Niobe fled back into her room, but she found no comfort there. She could still hear the storm, could still feel that monster's breath in her face, could still hear Phoibe's cries. No. She didn't want to remember. It was too much. Another clash from outside. Niobe fell to the floor, hands covered over her ears. It would be over soon, she tried to reason but it fell on deaf ears. Stop, please stop!
She hadn't realized she was running from her room until she'd collided with another person. It was a woman, a servant she'd seen a few times before though never caught her name. She was shorter than Niobe and older but wider, with stern brown eyes that softened upon the fear she saw in Niobe's. "What's the matter with you, girl?"
She had no words, no explanation. Instead, she brushed past the other woman and went deeper into the manor. The woman did not follow. Niobe felt vaguely that she was searching for something but couldn't be sure of what, not until she was staring at a door. It was his door. His room. What was she doing? Why the hell was she here? What could he do? She just wanted it to stop. Another crash. Niobe flinched, tears gathering at the corner of her eyes as she raised a hand and gently scratched at the door. "My lord?"
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If someone had told her that one day, she'd be a free woman, Niobe would have laughed. Free? Her? No, that was impossible. She'd been born a slave and would die a slave. That was her fate. She had seen it happen time and time again, there would never be a different outcome for her. She'd long accepted that. Yet somehow...somehow, she was now sitting in her very own room, wearing the finest night dress she'd ever seen, stomach fuller than had ever been in years and free.
Free. It hardly seemed real. He hardly seemed real. Elias of Stravos - the man who freed her. He hadn't known her, hadn't owed her anything. Any other man would have walked away and left her in that street to die. Plenty of people, men and women, had chosen to mind their own business that day. So why hadn't he? She hadn't the nerve to ask him. Truthfully, she spoke very little at all, not to him and not to his staff. She didn't know how to. All her life she was silent. She did as she was told, kept her head down, survived. That was all she could do. Now she was being asked to live. Not just survive. She didn't know what to do with herself. Everything felt wrong, the clothes, the shoes, the food, him. She had known plenty of men like him before, or at least that's what she told herself. Men like him take and take and take. They do not ask. They're entitled and cruel and any day now he was going to pull the rug from out under her feet. He had to; he was a man.
But days turned into weeks and weeks turned into months and she was still here. And he was...different. Kind, in a way. He took her seriously, her health, her happiness, her wants and needs. He never forced himself upon her or anything else. He did not mind her silence and when she did speak, he listened intently. He did not shy away from her thorns, nor punished her for having them. He was patient. Gradually she began to look forward to his visits. She began to trust him.
Cold air blew in from her open window, lifting dark curls off her shoulders as she tilted her chin upward to meet it. The hem of her night dress rose further up her dangling legs, which she kicked back and forth absentmindedly over the edge. She had no candles lit and the manor itself was asleep; no one was there to see her. So, she sat and listened to the crashing waves below her and warily watched the dark clouds roll in. The storm would be here soon. Dark clouds never bode well for her, not when bolts of light flashed inside them. It wasn’t lightning in itself that bothered her, but the thunder that followed closely behind. She hated thunder. No, she hated what it reminded her of. She never learned his name, had never cared. But she remembered the violence. She had not seen that bastard since she'd been a girl of fifteen, when he died and his family sold her, yet the memory was branded into her memory. Of all the masters she'd served before, she hated him the most. He'd been a monstrosity of a man who never seemed able to just walk - he stomped, so hard he rattled the ground beneath him like thunderclaps.
It did not matter that it had been years ago. As the dark clouds drifted closer and closer, Niobe felt fear seize her chest. She was suffocating on it. Her hands were balled tight in her lap, nails cutting crescent moon shapes into her palms, but she didn't feel it. Niobe willed herself to be brave, as she had done many nights before. She was safe, it was only a storm. She was stronger than this. She had been through worse and never flinched - to cower now would be stupid.[/font] You have to get over this. You're safe, he can't harm you anymore. If only she believed it.
The storm was here. A flash of lightning lit up the sky just as rain began to fall. Quickly pulling herself back from her window, Niobe fled back into her room, but she found no comfort there. She could still hear the storm, could still feel that monster's breath in her face, could still hear Phoibe's cries. No. She didn't want to remember. It was too much. Another clash from outside. Niobe fell to the floor, hands covered over her ears. It would be over soon, she tried to reason but it fell on deaf ears. Stop, please stop!
She hadn't realized she was running from her room until she'd collided with another person. It was a woman, a servant she'd seen a few times before though never caught her name. She was shorter than Niobe and older but wider, with stern brown eyes that softened upon the fear she saw in Niobe's. "What's the matter with you, girl?"
She had no words, no explanation. Instead, she brushed past the other woman and went deeper into the manor. The woman did not follow. Niobe felt vaguely that she was searching for something but couldn't be sure of what, not until she was staring at a door. It was his door. His room. What was she doing? Why the hell was she here? What could he do? She just wanted it to stop. Another crash. Niobe flinched, tears gathering at the corner of her eyes as she raised a hand and gently scratched at the door. "My lord?"
If someone had told her that one day, she'd be a free woman, Niobe would have laughed. Free? Her? No, that was impossible. She'd been born a slave and would die a slave. That was her fate. She had seen it happen time and time again, there would never be a different outcome for her. She'd long accepted that. Yet somehow...somehow, she was now sitting in her very own room, wearing the finest night dress she'd ever seen, stomach fuller than had ever been in years and free.
Free. It hardly seemed real. He hardly seemed real. Elias of Stravos - the man who freed her. He hadn't known her, hadn't owed her anything. Any other man would have walked away and left her in that street to die. Plenty of people, men and women, had chosen to mind their own business that day. So why hadn't he? She hadn't the nerve to ask him. Truthfully, she spoke very little at all, not to him and not to his staff. She didn't know how to. All her life she was silent. She did as she was told, kept her head down, survived. That was all she could do. Now she was being asked to live. Not just survive. She didn't know what to do with herself. Everything felt wrong, the clothes, the shoes, the food, him. She had known plenty of men like him before, or at least that's what she told herself. Men like him take and take and take. They do not ask. They're entitled and cruel and any day now he was going to pull the rug from out under her feet. He had to; he was a man.
But days turned into weeks and weeks turned into months and she was still here. And he was...different. Kind, in a way. He took her seriously, her health, her happiness, her wants and needs. He never forced himself upon her or anything else. He did not mind her silence and when she did speak, he listened intently. He did not shy away from her thorns, nor punished her for having them. He was patient. Gradually she began to look forward to his visits. She began to trust him.
Cold air blew in from her open window, lifting dark curls off her shoulders as she tilted her chin upward to meet it. The hem of her night dress rose further up her dangling legs, which she kicked back and forth absentmindedly over the edge. She had no candles lit and the manor itself was asleep; no one was there to see her. So, she sat and listened to the crashing waves below her and warily watched the dark clouds roll in. The storm would be here soon. Dark clouds never bode well for her, not when bolts of light flashed inside them. It wasn’t lightning in itself that bothered her, but the thunder that followed closely behind. She hated thunder. No, she hated what it reminded her of. She never learned his name, had never cared. But she remembered the violence. She had not seen that bastard since she'd been a girl of fifteen, when he died and his family sold her, yet the memory was branded into her memory. Of all the masters she'd served before, she hated him the most. He'd been a monstrosity of a man who never seemed able to just walk - he stomped, so hard he rattled the ground beneath him like thunderclaps.
It did not matter that it had been years ago. As the dark clouds drifted closer and closer, Niobe felt fear seize her chest. She was suffocating on it. Her hands were balled tight in her lap, nails cutting crescent moon shapes into her palms, but she didn't feel it. Niobe willed herself to be brave, as she had done many nights before. She was safe, it was only a storm. She was stronger than this. She had been through worse and never flinched - to cower now would be stupid.[/font] You have to get over this. You're safe, he can't harm you anymore. If only she believed it.
The storm was here. A flash of lightning lit up the sky just as rain began to fall. Quickly pulling herself back from her window, Niobe fled back into her room, but she found no comfort there. She could still hear the storm, could still feel that monster's breath in her face, could still hear Phoibe's cries. No. She didn't want to remember. It was too much. Another clash from outside. Niobe fell to the floor, hands covered over her ears. It would be over soon, she tried to reason but it fell on deaf ears. Stop, please stop!
She hadn't realized she was running from her room until she'd collided with another person. It was a woman, a servant she'd seen a few times before though never caught her name. She was shorter than Niobe and older but wider, with stern brown eyes that softened upon the fear she saw in Niobe's. "What's the matter with you, girl?"
She had no words, no explanation. Instead, she brushed past the other woman and went deeper into the manor. The woman did not follow. Niobe felt vaguely that she was searching for something but couldn't be sure of what, not until she was staring at a door. It was his door. His room. What was she doing? Why the hell was she here? What could he do? She just wanted it to stop. Another crash. Niobe flinched, tears gathering at the corner of her eyes as she raised a hand and gently scratched at the door. "My lord?"
Elias could not explain the rage that had overcome him, upon seeing that slaver beat the girl in that alleyway. All of that fuss because she had been hungry—some people just did not know how to take care of their things. He’d swept her away, after paying for her. She cost him a hefty sum, but he was not going to make that known. He held very little interest in the trading of slaves; though his family was a well-known name in anything that could trade. Perhaps, he held little interest in the trade of beautiful women. Or, mayhaps it was that she had been hungry enough to steal from her master—and he firmly believed the man should have been feeding her, anyway. Whatever the reason that had seen him stepping between her and the abuse, sliding coin across to the horrible man—and casting him out of Athenia…
Well, whatever had seen to it that he caused a ruckus, that led to rumors—because people were struggling to fathom just why a man like Elias of Stravos cared about a lowly slave. The rumors were as wild as ever, and he couldn’t be more amused. His home in Lycestia was quiet, fairly empty save for the times he found himself living in it. The servants were there of course. So, whilst Niobe healed, and he slowly won her trust—and eventually, granted her the freedom that she craved—they stayed in Lycestia.
He chose to take care of her, washing her hair, gifting her beautiful clothing, he did not mind that she preferred not to speak. He did mind that she looked so fearful of him, and he gauged her reaction to every movement that he made. Eventually, she even had a meal with him. Weeks into months, his patience was steadfast. He would, and he could, wait to win her trust. When he took business trips, he let her know that he would be gone—those nights, he thought, she must feel the most at ease, because she seemed to act so frightened around him; like a skittish animal who’s been kicked one too many times.
Tonight, though, a storm was starting up outside. Elias was seated in bed, reading by candlelight, when a quiet little sound scratched at his door. Not a knock, but certainly an indication that someone was there. As he closed his book, saving the page for later, he moved to answer the door.
His little slave-girl looked frightened. No, no, he’d granted her freedom to her with their last meal, he reminded himself. She was still apprehensive of him, but she’d come along on a business trip or two these last few times. She was proving herself to be his.
And for that, he’d give her such an arbitrary thing as freedom, because Elias could be a cage too. Such a beautiful bird in his cage, he couldn’t help but frown at the fear on her face. Had another person scared her this night? He furrowed his brow, as he reached out to brush a handful of dark curls from her face, gently. “Elias is just fine in private, Niobe.” He murmured, stepping to the side. 'Elias' was not fine in private; in fact, he preferred his titles. But he wanted the ex-slave in front of him to trust him, to really serve him in ways his usual servants did not... And for that, he'd let her ignore his title whilst they were in the confines of his home.
“Has someone frightened you?” It would be stupid to mess with their Lords new pet; his servants might not be overly nice to the girl, but they would not go out of their way to distress her. Another clap of thunder made Niobe flinch, and he frowned. “Ah. The storm? It’s loud tonight.” He admitted, with a pensive look.
Silence, as he regarded her. She was quite beautiful, and had proven herself smart, though she was not the first person to say something if she feared it may upset him. He would have to work on that; his temper was no threat to her, and he needed her to grow to see that. But, he supposed, it was coming along. After all, she was in front of his door, in her nightgown, with tears in her eyes because of the storm at hand.
Progress.
After a moment of regarding her, “Would you like to come in? I was just reading a story—would you like to learn to read?” Not too many slaves knew how to read, but if this girl was to be useful to him, she’d need to be able to read and write.
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Elias could not explain the rage that had overcome him, upon seeing that slaver beat the girl in that alleyway. All of that fuss because she had been hungry—some people just did not know how to take care of their things. He’d swept her away, after paying for her. She cost him a hefty sum, but he was not going to make that known. He held very little interest in the trading of slaves; though his family was a well-known name in anything that could trade. Perhaps, he held little interest in the trade of beautiful women. Or, mayhaps it was that she had been hungry enough to steal from her master—and he firmly believed the man should have been feeding her, anyway. Whatever the reason that had seen him stepping between her and the abuse, sliding coin across to the horrible man—and casting him out of Athenia…
Well, whatever had seen to it that he caused a ruckus, that led to rumors—because people were struggling to fathom just why a man like Elias of Stravos cared about a lowly slave. The rumors were as wild as ever, and he couldn’t be more amused. His home in Lycestia was quiet, fairly empty save for the times he found himself living in it. The servants were there of course. So, whilst Niobe healed, and he slowly won her trust—and eventually, granted her the freedom that she craved—they stayed in Lycestia.
He chose to take care of her, washing her hair, gifting her beautiful clothing, he did not mind that she preferred not to speak. He did mind that she looked so fearful of him, and he gauged her reaction to every movement that he made. Eventually, she even had a meal with him. Weeks into months, his patience was steadfast. He would, and he could, wait to win her trust. When he took business trips, he let her know that he would be gone—those nights, he thought, she must feel the most at ease, because she seemed to act so frightened around him; like a skittish animal who’s been kicked one too many times.
Tonight, though, a storm was starting up outside. Elias was seated in bed, reading by candlelight, when a quiet little sound scratched at his door. Not a knock, but certainly an indication that someone was there. As he closed his book, saving the page for later, he moved to answer the door.
His little slave-girl looked frightened. No, no, he’d granted her freedom to her with their last meal, he reminded himself. She was still apprehensive of him, but she’d come along on a business trip or two these last few times. She was proving herself to be his.
And for that, he’d give her such an arbitrary thing as freedom, because Elias could be a cage too. Such a beautiful bird in his cage, he couldn’t help but frown at the fear on her face. Had another person scared her this night? He furrowed his brow, as he reached out to brush a handful of dark curls from her face, gently. “Elias is just fine in private, Niobe.” He murmured, stepping to the side. 'Elias' was not fine in private; in fact, he preferred his titles. But he wanted the ex-slave in front of him to trust him, to really serve him in ways his usual servants did not... And for that, he'd let her ignore his title whilst they were in the confines of his home.
“Has someone frightened you?” It would be stupid to mess with their Lords new pet; his servants might not be overly nice to the girl, but they would not go out of their way to distress her. Another clap of thunder made Niobe flinch, and he frowned. “Ah. The storm? It’s loud tonight.” He admitted, with a pensive look.
Silence, as he regarded her. She was quite beautiful, and had proven herself smart, though she was not the first person to say something if she feared it may upset him. He would have to work on that; his temper was no threat to her, and he needed her to grow to see that. But, he supposed, it was coming along. After all, she was in front of his door, in her nightgown, with tears in her eyes because of the storm at hand.
Progress.
After a moment of regarding her, “Would you like to come in? I was just reading a story—would you like to learn to read?” Not too many slaves knew how to read, but if this girl was to be useful to him, she’d need to be able to read and write.
Elias could not explain the rage that had overcome him, upon seeing that slaver beat the girl in that alleyway. All of that fuss because she had been hungry—some people just did not know how to take care of their things. He’d swept her away, after paying for her. She cost him a hefty sum, but he was not going to make that known. He held very little interest in the trading of slaves; though his family was a well-known name in anything that could trade. Perhaps, he held little interest in the trade of beautiful women. Or, mayhaps it was that she had been hungry enough to steal from her master—and he firmly believed the man should have been feeding her, anyway. Whatever the reason that had seen him stepping between her and the abuse, sliding coin across to the horrible man—and casting him out of Athenia…
Well, whatever had seen to it that he caused a ruckus, that led to rumors—because people were struggling to fathom just why a man like Elias of Stravos cared about a lowly slave. The rumors were as wild as ever, and he couldn’t be more amused. His home in Lycestia was quiet, fairly empty save for the times he found himself living in it. The servants were there of course. So, whilst Niobe healed, and he slowly won her trust—and eventually, granted her the freedom that she craved—they stayed in Lycestia.
He chose to take care of her, washing her hair, gifting her beautiful clothing, he did not mind that she preferred not to speak. He did mind that she looked so fearful of him, and he gauged her reaction to every movement that he made. Eventually, she even had a meal with him. Weeks into months, his patience was steadfast. He would, and he could, wait to win her trust. When he took business trips, he let her know that he would be gone—those nights, he thought, she must feel the most at ease, because she seemed to act so frightened around him; like a skittish animal who’s been kicked one too many times.
Tonight, though, a storm was starting up outside. Elias was seated in bed, reading by candlelight, when a quiet little sound scratched at his door. Not a knock, but certainly an indication that someone was there. As he closed his book, saving the page for later, he moved to answer the door.
His little slave-girl looked frightened. No, no, he’d granted her freedom to her with their last meal, he reminded himself. She was still apprehensive of him, but she’d come along on a business trip or two these last few times. She was proving herself to be his.
And for that, he’d give her such an arbitrary thing as freedom, because Elias could be a cage too. Such a beautiful bird in his cage, he couldn’t help but frown at the fear on her face. Had another person scared her this night? He furrowed his brow, as he reached out to brush a handful of dark curls from her face, gently. “Elias is just fine in private, Niobe.” He murmured, stepping to the side. 'Elias' was not fine in private; in fact, he preferred his titles. But he wanted the ex-slave in front of him to trust him, to really serve him in ways his usual servants did not... And for that, he'd let her ignore his title whilst they were in the confines of his home.
“Has someone frightened you?” It would be stupid to mess with their Lords new pet; his servants might not be overly nice to the girl, but they would not go out of their way to distress her. Another clap of thunder made Niobe flinch, and he frowned. “Ah. The storm? It’s loud tonight.” He admitted, with a pensive look.
Silence, as he regarded her. She was quite beautiful, and had proven herself smart, though she was not the first person to say something if she feared it may upset him. He would have to work on that; his temper was no threat to her, and he needed her to grow to see that. But, he supposed, it was coming along. After all, she was in front of his door, in her nightgown, with tears in her eyes because of the storm at hand.
Progress.
After a moment of regarding her, “Would you like to come in? I was just reading a story—would you like to learn to read?” Not too many slaves knew how to read, but if this girl was to be useful to him, she’d need to be able to read and write.
He would be asleep, she chided herself. It was late and even if he wasn't, she had no business being there. Though she saw no one else walking the halls, she was sure if anyone stumbled upon her what assumption they would make. She wasn't innocent - a young woman dressed in nothing but her shift standing at the lord's door, it would be clear as day to them what was happening. The last thing she wanted was to cause trouble, even if they'd be wrong. She should never have come; she should go back to her room and just wait it out. It's what she'd done for years. And what was she expecting the man to do!? Snap his fingers and call away the storm?
Though he looked it, he wasn't a god or anything of that sort. He couldn't help her and why would she even want him to? He'd done enough for her already and she hated the thought of him or anyone else seeing her so...frail. It was a weakness she'd never allowed anyone else to see, not when she was a slave girl and certainly not now. She made up her mind, she would go. He wasn't coming to the door anyhow.
If only her feet would move. Stubbornly, they would not go. Get a hold on yourself! She clenched her fists so tight she was sure they break and-
The door opened. There was no immediate questionnaire nor was he cross. Instead, he reached for her. She shivered again but did not pull away. He was always so gentle, so kind. The whispers were wrong. How could anyone accuse him of such cruelty when he was standing before her now so attentive. It took all her strength not to lean into his hand, though she wanted to. Oh, how she wanted to. Nobody had ever touched her so softly - they always hurt her in some way or the other. But his lordship, no, Elias was different. It was because of this alone that she let him.
Had someone frightened her? She shook her head. No. Yes. A long time ago. She didn't want to speak about it, though she owed him some sort of explanation. How could she say it was the storm, though? He would surely laugh! A grown woman, cowering at poor weather? Only he didn't laugh, and she needn't have given an explanation. He knew. He always somehow knew. It wasn't just this instance that he'd somehow knew what she wanted or needed, what she was thinking. It frightened her. He frightened her. She did not have friends, not since Phoibe and her faith in men was all but tarnished. Yet somehow, she found herself following after him like a child, hanging on to his every word. She liked having him around and when he was gone, she missed him.
It was strange and new and she disliked it greatly.
“Read?” She repeated, arms wrapped tight around herself. She couldn’t help but to search his eyes and found he meant it. He was genuinely offering. Why would he do that? Why was he so kind? It was frustrating. Before she’d always known her place, but now…now it was like she was adrift and he was land. He could be safety, if she let him. But what would he want in return? “Elias.” It felt strange to say his name aloud. Personal. “Why are you so nice to me?”
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He would be asleep, she chided herself. It was late and even if he wasn't, she had no business being there. Though she saw no one else walking the halls, she was sure if anyone stumbled upon her what assumption they would make. She wasn't innocent - a young woman dressed in nothing but her shift standing at the lord's door, it would be clear as day to them what was happening. The last thing she wanted was to cause trouble, even if they'd be wrong. She should never have come; she should go back to her room and just wait it out. It's what she'd done for years. And what was she expecting the man to do!? Snap his fingers and call away the storm?
Though he looked it, he wasn't a god or anything of that sort. He couldn't help her and why would she even want him to? He'd done enough for her already and she hated the thought of him or anyone else seeing her so...frail. It was a weakness she'd never allowed anyone else to see, not when she was a slave girl and certainly not now. She made up her mind, she would go. He wasn't coming to the door anyhow.
If only her feet would move. Stubbornly, they would not go. Get a hold on yourself! She clenched her fists so tight she was sure they break and-
The door opened. There was no immediate questionnaire nor was he cross. Instead, he reached for her. She shivered again but did not pull away. He was always so gentle, so kind. The whispers were wrong. How could anyone accuse him of such cruelty when he was standing before her now so attentive. It took all her strength not to lean into his hand, though she wanted to. Oh, how she wanted to. Nobody had ever touched her so softly - they always hurt her in some way or the other. But his lordship, no, Elias was different. It was because of this alone that she let him.
Had someone frightened her? She shook her head. No. Yes. A long time ago. She didn't want to speak about it, though she owed him some sort of explanation. How could she say it was the storm, though? He would surely laugh! A grown woman, cowering at poor weather? Only he didn't laugh, and she needn't have given an explanation. He knew. He always somehow knew. It wasn't just this instance that he'd somehow knew what she wanted or needed, what she was thinking. It frightened her. He frightened her. She did not have friends, not since Phoibe and her faith in men was all but tarnished. Yet somehow, she found herself following after him like a child, hanging on to his every word. She liked having him around and when he was gone, she missed him.
It was strange and new and she disliked it greatly.
“Read?” She repeated, arms wrapped tight around herself. She couldn’t help but to search his eyes and found he meant it. He was genuinely offering. Why would he do that? Why was he so kind? It was frustrating. Before she’d always known her place, but now…now it was like she was adrift and he was land. He could be safety, if she let him. But what would he want in return? “Elias.” It felt strange to say his name aloud. Personal. “Why are you so nice to me?”
He would be asleep, she chided herself. It was late and even if he wasn't, she had no business being there. Though she saw no one else walking the halls, she was sure if anyone stumbled upon her what assumption they would make. She wasn't innocent - a young woman dressed in nothing but her shift standing at the lord's door, it would be clear as day to them what was happening. The last thing she wanted was to cause trouble, even if they'd be wrong. She should never have come; she should go back to her room and just wait it out. It's what she'd done for years. And what was she expecting the man to do!? Snap his fingers and call away the storm?
Though he looked it, he wasn't a god or anything of that sort. He couldn't help her and why would she even want him to? He'd done enough for her already and she hated the thought of him or anyone else seeing her so...frail. It was a weakness she'd never allowed anyone else to see, not when she was a slave girl and certainly not now. She made up her mind, she would go. He wasn't coming to the door anyhow.
If only her feet would move. Stubbornly, they would not go. Get a hold on yourself! She clenched her fists so tight she was sure they break and-
The door opened. There was no immediate questionnaire nor was he cross. Instead, he reached for her. She shivered again but did not pull away. He was always so gentle, so kind. The whispers were wrong. How could anyone accuse him of such cruelty when he was standing before her now so attentive. It took all her strength not to lean into his hand, though she wanted to. Oh, how she wanted to. Nobody had ever touched her so softly - they always hurt her in some way or the other. But his lordship, no, Elias was different. It was because of this alone that she let him.
Had someone frightened her? She shook her head. No. Yes. A long time ago. She didn't want to speak about it, though she owed him some sort of explanation. How could she say it was the storm, though? He would surely laugh! A grown woman, cowering at poor weather? Only he didn't laugh, and she needn't have given an explanation. He knew. He always somehow knew. It wasn't just this instance that he'd somehow knew what she wanted or needed, what she was thinking. It frightened her. He frightened her. She did not have friends, not since Phoibe and her faith in men was all but tarnished. Yet somehow, she found herself following after him like a child, hanging on to his every word. She liked having him around and when he was gone, she missed him.
It was strange and new and she disliked it greatly.
“Read?” She repeated, arms wrapped tight around herself. She couldn’t help but to search his eyes and found he meant it. He was genuinely offering. Why would he do that? Why was he so kind? It was frustrating. Before she’d always known her place, but now…now it was like she was adrift and he was land. He could be safety, if she let him. But what would he want in return? “Elias.” It felt strange to say his name aloud. Personal. “Why are you so nice to me?”
Elias studied the young woman, smiling gently when she didn't shy from his touch. She was doing that less and less, and it pleased him greatly. She shook her head, no, then yes, and he quickly let his gaze roam over her. Niobe seemed no worse for wear, so he quickly filed it aside; she was not injured currently, but what kind of past had she had?
He only had the one glimpse, the thin, starving woman stealing a piece of bread, or had it been a fruit? Whatever the food, stolen, and her master beating her in the midst of one of Athenia's fine streets. What had come before that master, but more masters who misused and abused what was so obviously a bright young mind that would and could serve him better than owning a slave?
Elias is pulled from his thoughts, by her voice. She rarely spoke, and when she did, her voice held him captive. Not in the romantic way one might want to think, but because he truly thought she had a use to him. To her, of course, he seemed extremely attentive.
In part, true.
But then, with Elias, people needed to serve a purpose. "Yes, read. Am I correct to assume you were never taught?" He inquired, quietly, as he stepped back from the door to head into his chambers once more. His back was to her, as she addressed him with his first name. She'd miss the wry smirk that crossed his features, the absolute pleasure that twisted onto his lips.
She was his, and she didn't realize it. The cage was slowly falling into place, slow enough that the darling bird couldn't be startled into flight.
"Well, you have been a slave for your entire life, right?" He'd seen the marks, the scars, the way she shied, hid, cowered. It bothered him; he liked his women to be confident. But she'd get there under his watchful gaze. "You're free now, and with freedom comes expectations." He explained, picking up his book as he settled on the edge of the bed once more.
"Soon, if you choose to leave me, you'll have to make your own money, afford your own way in the world. The least I can do, since I was the one who freed you, is ensure you're prepared to go out into the world." He wouldn't let her leave; she was his, bought and paid for. Her freedom was nothing more than a trinket to him, a pawn to get her tangled up in his web.
He settled back into bed, above the blankets, as he watched her in the doorway. Elias gave no mention that he planned to give her a job, to keep her as a servant. No, he wanted to see if she'd ask him too, first. One could be too greedy and ruin a good thing; he knew that. Especially when one was dealing with a woman who had known nothing but abuse.
Elias opened the book once more, and as another shock of thunder shook the house, he patted the bed next to him. "Come here, I've got an extra blanket, if you're chilled. We'll start with the alphabet in the morning, but tonight, I'll simply read aloud to you." To take her mind off of the storm raging around them; why they scared her so, he'd not know unless he asked.
But probably not tonight. He'd ask another time.
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Elias studied the young woman, smiling gently when she didn't shy from his touch. She was doing that less and less, and it pleased him greatly. She shook her head, no, then yes, and he quickly let his gaze roam over her. Niobe seemed no worse for wear, so he quickly filed it aside; she was not injured currently, but what kind of past had she had?
He only had the one glimpse, the thin, starving woman stealing a piece of bread, or had it been a fruit? Whatever the food, stolen, and her master beating her in the midst of one of Athenia's fine streets. What had come before that master, but more masters who misused and abused what was so obviously a bright young mind that would and could serve him better than owning a slave?
Elias is pulled from his thoughts, by her voice. She rarely spoke, and when she did, her voice held him captive. Not in the romantic way one might want to think, but because he truly thought she had a use to him. To her, of course, he seemed extremely attentive.
In part, true.
But then, with Elias, people needed to serve a purpose. "Yes, read. Am I correct to assume you were never taught?" He inquired, quietly, as he stepped back from the door to head into his chambers once more. His back was to her, as she addressed him with his first name. She'd miss the wry smirk that crossed his features, the absolute pleasure that twisted onto his lips.
She was his, and she didn't realize it. The cage was slowly falling into place, slow enough that the darling bird couldn't be startled into flight.
"Well, you have been a slave for your entire life, right?" He'd seen the marks, the scars, the way she shied, hid, cowered. It bothered him; he liked his women to be confident. But she'd get there under his watchful gaze. "You're free now, and with freedom comes expectations." He explained, picking up his book as he settled on the edge of the bed once more.
"Soon, if you choose to leave me, you'll have to make your own money, afford your own way in the world. The least I can do, since I was the one who freed you, is ensure you're prepared to go out into the world." He wouldn't let her leave; she was his, bought and paid for. Her freedom was nothing more than a trinket to him, a pawn to get her tangled up in his web.
He settled back into bed, above the blankets, as he watched her in the doorway. Elias gave no mention that he planned to give her a job, to keep her as a servant. No, he wanted to see if she'd ask him too, first. One could be too greedy and ruin a good thing; he knew that. Especially when one was dealing with a woman who had known nothing but abuse.
Elias opened the book once more, and as another shock of thunder shook the house, he patted the bed next to him. "Come here, I've got an extra blanket, if you're chilled. We'll start with the alphabet in the morning, but tonight, I'll simply read aloud to you." To take her mind off of the storm raging around them; why they scared her so, he'd not know unless he asked.
But probably not tonight. He'd ask another time.
Elias studied the young woman, smiling gently when she didn't shy from his touch. She was doing that less and less, and it pleased him greatly. She shook her head, no, then yes, and he quickly let his gaze roam over her. Niobe seemed no worse for wear, so he quickly filed it aside; she was not injured currently, but what kind of past had she had?
He only had the one glimpse, the thin, starving woman stealing a piece of bread, or had it been a fruit? Whatever the food, stolen, and her master beating her in the midst of one of Athenia's fine streets. What had come before that master, but more masters who misused and abused what was so obviously a bright young mind that would and could serve him better than owning a slave?
Elias is pulled from his thoughts, by her voice. She rarely spoke, and when she did, her voice held him captive. Not in the romantic way one might want to think, but because he truly thought she had a use to him. To her, of course, he seemed extremely attentive.
In part, true.
But then, with Elias, people needed to serve a purpose. "Yes, read. Am I correct to assume you were never taught?" He inquired, quietly, as he stepped back from the door to head into his chambers once more. His back was to her, as she addressed him with his first name. She'd miss the wry smirk that crossed his features, the absolute pleasure that twisted onto his lips.
She was his, and she didn't realize it. The cage was slowly falling into place, slow enough that the darling bird couldn't be startled into flight.
"Well, you have been a slave for your entire life, right?" He'd seen the marks, the scars, the way she shied, hid, cowered. It bothered him; he liked his women to be confident. But she'd get there under his watchful gaze. "You're free now, and with freedom comes expectations." He explained, picking up his book as he settled on the edge of the bed once more.
"Soon, if you choose to leave me, you'll have to make your own money, afford your own way in the world. The least I can do, since I was the one who freed you, is ensure you're prepared to go out into the world." He wouldn't let her leave; she was his, bought and paid for. Her freedom was nothing more than a trinket to him, a pawn to get her tangled up in his web.
He settled back into bed, above the blankets, as he watched her in the doorway. Elias gave no mention that he planned to give her a job, to keep her as a servant. No, he wanted to see if she'd ask him too, first. One could be too greedy and ruin a good thing; he knew that. Especially when one was dealing with a woman who had known nothing but abuse.
Elias opened the book once more, and as another shock of thunder shook the house, he patted the bed next to him. "Come here, I've got an extra blanket, if you're chilled. We'll start with the alphabet in the morning, but tonight, I'll simply read aloud to you." To take her mind off of the storm raging around them; why they scared her so, he'd not know unless he asked.
But probably not tonight. He'd ask another time.
"You are." She watched him with narrowed eyes as he went about his room, taking the time to study him now that his back was turned. He truly was unlike anyone she'd ever met before, in more ways than one. From what she saw he wasn't a fighter; he was too lean, and his hands were unscarred and soft. Though he moved about as though he were carefree, Niobe could tell his mind was whirring. He was always planning, always thinking. What did he see when he looked at her? There was no way he was doing this out of the goodness of his own heart. Yes, he was kind, but men always wanted something, and gifts never came free. She knew that better than anyone.
She tentatively entered the room, letting the door click shut behind her. Somehow this felt like a test. A game, even, one she wasn't sure she could win even if she tried. He was letting her decide. Stay or go, trust him or don't, he didn't mind. But he did...didn't he? Maybe she was reading too much into it. Here he was, offering to teach her and she continued to question him. One shouldn't bite the hand the feeds them. She was alive and healthy thanks to him. She owed him everything.
Free. Free to leave, free to have her own life, be her own person, make her own money. "It still feels like a dream." She confessed as she looked around his room. A person's personal space could tell you plenty about them, she found, and his was entirely...him. Extravagant, he obviously liked material things. He liked red. It was a room she might have expected a king to have. It was charming, in a way, though she had no real opinion for such things. She had no use for material things, and she did not know what made a good room or a bad room. Nevertheless, a part of her hated him for it. He'd never known a hard day in his life. It wasn't his fault, she knew, he'd been born into a wealthy family. Still, there he was...beautiful and wealthy, and she was...nothing.
When she finally turned back to him, he's back in bed and staring at her. Suddenly Niobe's only a woman - she can feel heat spread across her face as she covers herself once more. It was only reading, she reminded herself, and began to take her place on the edge of the bed. Dark eyes ran over the book in his hands, curious. What did a man like Elias read before going to bed? She opened her mouth to ask, the corners of her lips twitching when another clap of thunder rattled the house. Niobe had nearly forgotten the storm outside. Biting the inside of her cheek to keep from screaming, she abandoned all decorum and crawled across the bed to him, tucked herself into his side. She didn't care what she looked like, he made her forget and that was all she wanted. She didn't want to remember; she didn't want to be alone in the dark. Not anymore. "I'm sorry, I just...Never mind. What are you reading?"
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"You are." She watched him with narrowed eyes as he went about his room, taking the time to study him now that his back was turned. He truly was unlike anyone she'd ever met before, in more ways than one. From what she saw he wasn't a fighter; he was too lean, and his hands were unscarred and soft. Though he moved about as though he were carefree, Niobe could tell his mind was whirring. He was always planning, always thinking. What did he see when he looked at her? There was no way he was doing this out of the goodness of his own heart. Yes, he was kind, but men always wanted something, and gifts never came free. She knew that better than anyone.
She tentatively entered the room, letting the door click shut behind her. Somehow this felt like a test. A game, even, one she wasn't sure she could win even if she tried. He was letting her decide. Stay or go, trust him or don't, he didn't mind. But he did...didn't he? Maybe she was reading too much into it. Here he was, offering to teach her and she continued to question him. One shouldn't bite the hand the feeds them. She was alive and healthy thanks to him. She owed him everything.
Free. Free to leave, free to have her own life, be her own person, make her own money. "It still feels like a dream." She confessed as she looked around his room. A person's personal space could tell you plenty about them, she found, and his was entirely...him. Extravagant, he obviously liked material things. He liked red. It was a room she might have expected a king to have. It was charming, in a way, though she had no real opinion for such things. She had no use for material things, and she did not know what made a good room or a bad room. Nevertheless, a part of her hated him for it. He'd never known a hard day in his life. It wasn't his fault, she knew, he'd been born into a wealthy family. Still, there he was...beautiful and wealthy, and she was...nothing.
When she finally turned back to him, he's back in bed and staring at her. Suddenly Niobe's only a woman - she can feel heat spread across her face as she covers herself once more. It was only reading, she reminded herself, and began to take her place on the edge of the bed. Dark eyes ran over the book in his hands, curious. What did a man like Elias read before going to bed? She opened her mouth to ask, the corners of her lips twitching when another clap of thunder rattled the house. Niobe had nearly forgotten the storm outside. Biting the inside of her cheek to keep from screaming, she abandoned all decorum and crawled across the bed to him, tucked herself into his side. She didn't care what she looked like, he made her forget and that was all she wanted. She didn't want to remember; she didn't want to be alone in the dark. Not anymore. "I'm sorry, I just...Never mind. What are you reading?"
"You are." She watched him with narrowed eyes as he went about his room, taking the time to study him now that his back was turned. He truly was unlike anyone she'd ever met before, in more ways than one. From what she saw he wasn't a fighter; he was too lean, and his hands were unscarred and soft. Though he moved about as though he were carefree, Niobe could tell his mind was whirring. He was always planning, always thinking. What did he see when he looked at her? There was no way he was doing this out of the goodness of his own heart. Yes, he was kind, but men always wanted something, and gifts never came free. She knew that better than anyone.
She tentatively entered the room, letting the door click shut behind her. Somehow this felt like a test. A game, even, one she wasn't sure she could win even if she tried. He was letting her decide. Stay or go, trust him or don't, he didn't mind. But he did...didn't he? Maybe she was reading too much into it. Here he was, offering to teach her and she continued to question him. One shouldn't bite the hand the feeds them. She was alive and healthy thanks to him. She owed him everything.
Free. Free to leave, free to have her own life, be her own person, make her own money. "It still feels like a dream." She confessed as she looked around his room. A person's personal space could tell you plenty about them, she found, and his was entirely...him. Extravagant, he obviously liked material things. He liked red. It was a room she might have expected a king to have. It was charming, in a way, though she had no real opinion for such things. She had no use for material things, and she did not know what made a good room or a bad room. Nevertheless, a part of her hated him for it. He'd never known a hard day in his life. It wasn't his fault, she knew, he'd been born into a wealthy family. Still, there he was...beautiful and wealthy, and she was...nothing.
When she finally turned back to him, he's back in bed and staring at her. Suddenly Niobe's only a woman - she can feel heat spread across her face as she covers herself once more. It was only reading, she reminded herself, and began to take her place on the edge of the bed. Dark eyes ran over the book in his hands, curious. What did a man like Elias read before going to bed? She opened her mouth to ask, the corners of her lips twitching when another clap of thunder rattled the house. Niobe had nearly forgotten the storm outside. Biting the inside of her cheek to keep from screaming, she abandoned all decorum and crawled across the bed to him, tucked herself into his side. She didn't care what she looked like, he made her forget and that was all she wanted. She didn't want to remember; she didn't want to be alone in the dark. Not anymore. "I'm sorry, I just...Never mind. What are you reading?"
Elias nodded slowly, "You'll get used to it," he promised. As if he, a mortal man, had the right to declare that this ex-slave would grow used to being free. As if he'd let her be free. Oh, the illusion of freedom was tempting; but if she went out on her own, Elias would pull as many strings as he had too, to ensure that she couldn't survive on her own. She was his pet, and unlike her previous master, he'd take care of her.
She was settled on the edge of the bed, and then she was pressed against his side. He did not laugh, it was not funny to think of what she must have endured to be so skittish. Instead, he shifted to pull the extra cover he had mentioned over her, staying uncovered. He adjusted himself, so that he could slip an arm around her, and still hold the book where she might see it too.
"Do not apologize for reactions that others caused you to have, Niobe." His voice is firm, but quiet, as he studied her. Dark curls near enough that he could rest his chin against them if he chose, but he's respectful. Careful.
"The Illiad," it had been a spoken word story for a long time; poetry, in some forms. He had simply wanted it written for his perusal in his private quarters, and had hired a scribe to do just that, and so, as the Illiad was recited, someone had written as quickly as they were able. They'd bound it, and he'd paid a hefty fund for such a marvel.
But he had already proved that money was not everything; sometimes items of status, symbols, were worthwhile. The investment he had made in Niobe would come to be fruitful, he was certain.
He would read aloud for a bit, keeping one arm around her, and unless she struggled in his hold, he'd not release her. He told her the tales of Homer, and when he thought they'd come to a part of the story that could be returned too later, he shifted to study the woman in his bed.
"Niobe? You should only apologize if you have something to apologize for." He uttered the advice softly. "And if someone scares you to get an apology, you tell me." He was not a fighter, but that did not matter. He was wealthy, he was beautiful, and she was his and he would make anyone that laid a hand upon her, rue the choice they made to do so.
"Are you tired?" He inquired, settling back against his pillows, setting the book off to the side. "You can stay the night, if it would help you sleep." Elias offered, with a soft smile. "I remember being a young boy, afraid of storms. I never had anyone who cared to hold me when the thunder clapped so loudly that the house seemed to move." His parents were not the sort to coddle.
He'd turned out okay.
But the girl next to him? As far as he knew, she'd never had an option other then—survive. In that, they were the same, it'd seem. He had never had the option to be coddled, he had to prove himself; to survive on his terms and he still had not yet made his father proud.
One day.
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Elias nodded slowly, "You'll get used to it," he promised. As if he, a mortal man, had the right to declare that this ex-slave would grow used to being free. As if he'd let her be free. Oh, the illusion of freedom was tempting; but if she went out on her own, Elias would pull as many strings as he had too, to ensure that she couldn't survive on her own. She was his pet, and unlike her previous master, he'd take care of her.
She was settled on the edge of the bed, and then she was pressed against his side. He did not laugh, it was not funny to think of what she must have endured to be so skittish. Instead, he shifted to pull the extra cover he had mentioned over her, staying uncovered. He adjusted himself, so that he could slip an arm around her, and still hold the book where she might see it too.
"Do not apologize for reactions that others caused you to have, Niobe." His voice is firm, but quiet, as he studied her. Dark curls near enough that he could rest his chin against them if he chose, but he's respectful. Careful.
"The Illiad," it had been a spoken word story for a long time; poetry, in some forms. He had simply wanted it written for his perusal in his private quarters, and had hired a scribe to do just that, and so, as the Illiad was recited, someone had written as quickly as they were able. They'd bound it, and he'd paid a hefty fund for such a marvel.
But he had already proved that money was not everything; sometimes items of status, symbols, were worthwhile. The investment he had made in Niobe would come to be fruitful, he was certain.
He would read aloud for a bit, keeping one arm around her, and unless she struggled in his hold, he'd not release her. He told her the tales of Homer, and when he thought they'd come to a part of the story that could be returned too later, he shifted to study the woman in his bed.
"Niobe? You should only apologize if you have something to apologize for." He uttered the advice softly. "And if someone scares you to get an apology, you tell me." He was not a fighter, but that did not matter. He was wealthy, he was beautiful, and she was his and he would make anyone that laid a hand upon her, rue the choice they made to do so.
"Are you tired?" He inquired, settling back against his pillows, setting the book off to the side. "You can stay the night, if it would help you sleep." Elias offered, with a soft smile. "I remember being a young boy, afraid of storms. I never had anyone who cared to hold me when the thunder clapped so loudly that the house seemed to move." His parents were not the sort to coddle.
He'd turned out okay.
But the girl next to him? As far as he knew, she'd never had an option other then—survive. In that, they were the same, it'd seem. He had never had the option to be coddled, he had to prove himself; to survive on his terms and he still had not yet made his father proud.
One day.
Elias nodded slowly, "You'll get used to it," he promised. As if he, a mortal man, had the right to declare that this ex-slave would grow used to being free. As if he'd let her be free. Oh, the illusion of freedom was tempting; but if she went out on her own, Elias would pull as many strings as he had too, to ensure that she couldn't survive on her own. She was his pet, and unlike her previous master, he'd take care of her.
She was settled on the edge of the bed, and then she was pressed against his side. He did not laugh, it was not funny to think of what she must have endured to be so skittish. Instead, he shifted to pull the extra cover he had mentioned over her, staying uncovered. He adjusted himself, so that he could slip an arm around her, and still hold the book where she might see it too.
"Do not apologize for reactions that others caused you to have, Niobe." His voice is firm, but quiet, as he studied her. Dark curls near enough that he could rest his chin against them if he chose, but he's respectful. Careful.
"The Illiad," it had been a spoken word story for a long time; poetry, in some forms. He had simply wanted it written for his perusal in his private quarters, and had hired a scribe to do just that, and so, as the Illiad was recited, someone had written as quickly as they were able. They'd bound it, and he'd paid a hefty fund for such a marvel.
But he had already proved that money was not everything; sometimes items of status, symbols, were worthwhile. The investment he had made in Niobe would come to be fruitful, he was certain.
He would read aloud for a bit, keeping one arm around her, and unless she struggled in his hold, he'd not release her. He told her the tales of Homer, and when he thought they'd come to a part of the story that could be returned too later, he shifted to study the woman in his bed.
"Niobe? You should only apologize if you have something to apologize for." He uttered the advice softly. "And if someone scares you to get an apology, you tell me." He was not a fighter, but that did not matter. He was wealthy, he was beautiful, and she was his and he would make anyone that laid a hand upon her, rue the choice they made to do so.
"Are you tired?" He inquired, settling back against his pillows, setting the book off to the side. "You can stay the night, if it would help you sleep." Elias offered, with a soft smile. "I remember being a young boy, afraid of storms. I never had anyone who cared to hold me when the thunder clapped so loudly that the house seemed to move." His parents were not the sort to coddle.
He'd turned out okay.
But the girl next to him? As far as he knew, she'd never had an option other then—survive. In that, they were the same, it'd seem. He had never had the option to be coddled, he had to prove himself; to survive on his terms and he still had not yet made his father proud.
One day.
She should have been disgusted at his touch. He was a man, she hated men, worse, he was a rich man. She shouldn't have found peace in his arms, yet she did. She was thankful for her hair suddenly, as it hid her flushed face. She did not want to embarrass him with it. He was only being kind, she reminded herself. He was reading her a book, it was harmless. But in a way, that was what made her bashful. They'd only known each other for a short while and somehow, she'd found herself in his bed, wrapped in his blanket, their sides pressed together - all the while he reassured her. It was a tenderness she'd never known before and once more wasn't sure she deserved.
Did he think of her as a child, she wondered? Though they were close in age and stature, thoughts of him perceiving her as no more than a girl ran amuck through her mind before she could stop them. She shouldn't have cared at all how he thought of her. But Niobe wasn't an idiot. As much as this new life startled her, she knew a blessing when she saw one. She didn't believe in a god or gods or anything of that sort, but in herself. She took take of herself, she kept herself alive. She didn't want to go back to being a slave ever again. Her newfound freedom, she would do anything to keep it. "What's it about?"
He shifted suddenly, nearly taking her with him. Had she made him uncomfortable? She sat up in return to glance back at him and found him studying her again. What did that look mean? Either way she found it hard to keep eye contact, especially when he said her name like that and chose to instead pick at the blanket. "I'm not easily scared, my lord. But thank you."
She gazed back over at him through her lashes, an apology on her tongue and heat on her cheeks. He was tired, of course he was tired. It was late and she was keeping him up and he was asking if she wanted to stay. With him. The bed was big enough for multiple people yet with him beside her it felt so very small. Very carefully she let herself fall back against the pillows, never once breaking eye contact as she turned to face him fully. His pillows smelled like him - it was all she could think. "I used to love storms as a child. I liked watching the lightning flash across the sky, liked the smell. But my second master, he...When I hear thunder, I think of him. The way he stomped. The sound of his big meaty fists hitting me and the others. He killed someone once, you know. Beat them to death. Accused her of stealing. I know I should be over it, it was years ago, but I'm not."
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She should have been disgusted at his touch. He was a man, she hated men, worse, he was a rich man. She shouldn't have found peace in his arms, yet she did. She was thankful for her hair suddenly, as it hid her flushed face. She did not want to embarrass him with it. He was only being kind, she reminded herself. He was reading her a book, it was harmless. But in a way, that was what made her bashful. They'd only known each other for a short while and somehow, she'd found herself in his bed, wrapped in his blanket, their sides pressed together - all the while he reassured her. It was a tenderness she'd never known before and once more wasn't sure she deserved.
Did he think of her as a child, she wondered? Though they were close in age and stature, thoughts of him perceiving her as no more than a girl ran amuck through her mind before she could stop them. She shouldn't have cared at all how he thought of her. But Niobe wasn't an idiot. As much as this new life startled her, she knew a blessing when she saw one. She didn't believe in a god or gods or anything of that sort, but in herself. She took take of herself, she kept herself alive. She didn't want to go back to being a slave ever again. Her newfound freedom, she would do anything to keep it. "What's it about?"
He shifted suddenly, nearly taking her with him. Had she made him uncomfortable? She sat up in return to glance back at him and found him studying her again. What did that look mean? Either way she found it hard to keep eye contact, especially when he said her name like that and chose to instead pick at the blanket. "I'm not easily scared, my lord. But thank you."
She gazed back over at him through her lashes, an apology on her tongue and heat on her cheeks. He was tired, of course he was tired. It was late and she was keeping him up and he was asking if she wanted to stay. With him. The bed was big enough for multiple people yet with him beside her it felt so very small. Very carefully she let herself fall back against the pillows, never once breaking eye contact as she turned to face him fully. His pillows smelled like him - it was all she could think. "I used to love storms as a child. I liked watching the lightning flash across the sky, liked the smell. But my second master, he...When I hear thunder, I think of him. The way he stomped. The sound of his big meaty fists hitting me and the others. He killed someone once, you know. Beat them to death. Accused her of stealing. I know I should be over it, it was years ago, but I'm not."
She should have been disgusted at his touch. He was a man, she hated men, worse, he was a rich man. She shouldn't have found peace in his arms, yet she did. She was thankful for her hair suddenly, as it hid her flushed face. She did not want to embarrass him with it. He was only being kind, she reminded herself. He was reading her a book, it was harmless. But in a way, that was what made her bashful. They'd only known each other for a short while and somehow, she'd found herself in his bed, wrapped in his blanket, their sides pressed together - all the while he reassured her. It was a tenderness she'd never known before and once more wasn't sure she deserved.
Did he think of her as a child, she wondered? Though they were close in age and stature, thoughts of him perceiving her as no more than a girl ran amuck through her mind before she could stop them. She shouldn't have cared at all how he thought of her. But Niobe wasn't an idiot. As much as this new life startled her, she knew a blessing when she saw one. She didn't believe in a god or gods or anything of that sort, but in herself. She took take of herself, she kept herself alive. She didn't want to go back to being a slave ever again. Her newfound freedom, she would do anything to keep it. "What's it about?"
He shifted suddenly, nearly taking her with him. Had she made him uncomfortable? She sat up in return to glance back at him and found him studying her again. What did that look mean? Either way she found it hard to keep eye contact, especially when he said her name like that and chose to instead pick at the blanket. "I'm not easily scared, my lord. But thank you."
She gazed back over at him through her lashes, an apology on her tongue and heat on her cheeks. He was tired, of course he was tired. It was late and she was keeping him up and he was asking if she wanted to stay. With him. The bed was big enough for multiple people yet with him beside her it felt so very small. Very carefully she let herself fall back against the pillows, never once breaking eye contact as she turned to face him fully. His pillows smelled like him - it was all she could think. "I used to love storms as a child. I liked watching the lightning flash across the sky, liked the smell. But my second master, he...When I hear thunder, I think of him. The way he stomped. The sound of his big meaty fists hitting me and the others. He killed someone once, you know. Beat them to death. Accused her of stealing. I know I should be over it, it was years ago, but I'm not."
Elias hummed, as he thought to explain what the Illiad was about. It was a lengthy poem, and an even lengthier written piece. "The Gods, and some of the stories of mortals that have interacted with the Gods." He stated, simply. The silence was easy, until he took his time studying her, and she responded that she was not easily scared.
He leaned forward, to tilt her face upwards. "If someone lays a hand upon you, Niobe," his words are quiet, as he forces her to meet his gaze. "Tell me. For as long as you are by my side, you will know nothing but kindness." He exhaled softly, brushing his thumb across her lips.
"Elias, in private. You need only call me by my title if we are in public, or around the servants of this home." He stated, firmly. His thumb pressed against her mouth for a moment, before he released her and laid back against his pillows.
He was gauging her for a reaction; had he pressed too far, was it just enough? He'd honeyed his words, whispered just a piece of what he'd promise her, if she stayed by his side. He'd let her create her own disillusionment, so that there would be little guilt left for him. After all, she was the one choosing to trust him. To believe him.
She settled into the bed, and he met her gaze, listening as she told him about her past. Just a snippet, but it was enough to make the man fume. But, instead of showing his anger, he merely reassured her that it was okay to think about it, to remember, to fear it. "There is nothing wrong with remembering your past, Niobe. It honors those you've lost, and lets you see when you have found better places to be in this world." He stated, not entirely true but true enough in this instance.
He shifted, murmuring, "Perhaps, in time, you'll come to love storms again." With me. Oh, he'd aim to turn her fear of storms into anything but—the godlike arrogance that this male had, meant he'd strive to make her associate storms with him; and in a much more pleasant way.
But, this was still just step one for the ex-slave. She'd come to him, she was in his bed, things would follow her pace.
He could be patient, when he had to be.
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Elias hummed, as he thought to explain what the Illiad was about. It was a lengthy poem, and an even lengthier written piece. "The Gods, and some of the stories of mortals that have interacted with the Gods." He stated, simply. The silence was easy, until he took his time studying her, and she responded that she was not easily scared.
He leaned forward, to tilt her face upwards. "If someone lays a hand upon you, Niobe," his words are quiet, as he forces her to meet his gaze. "Tell me. For as long as you are by my side, you will know nothing but kindness." He exhaled softly, brushing his thumb across her lips.
"Elias, in private. You need only call me by my title if we are in public, or around the servants of this home." He stated, firmly. His thumb pressed against her mouth for a moment, before he released her and laid back against his pillows.
He was gauging her for a reaction; had he pressed too far, was it just enough? He'd honeyed his words, whispered just a piece of what he'd promise her, if she stayed by his side. He'd let her create her own disillusionment, so that there would be little guilt left for him. After all, she was the one choosing to trust him. To believe him.
She settled into the bed, and he met her gaze, listening as she told him about her past. Just a snippet, but it was enough to make the man fume. But, instead of showing his anger, he merely reassured her that it was okay to think about it, to remember, to fear it. "There is nothing wrong with remembering your past, Niobe. It honors those you've lost, and lets you see when you have found better places to be in this world." He stated, not entirely true but true enough in this instance.
He shifted, murmuring, "Perhaps, in time, you'll come to love storms again." With me. Oh, he'd aim to turn her fear of storms into anything but—the godlike arrogance that this male had, meant he'd strive to make her associate storms with him; and in a much more pleasant way.
But, this was still just step one for the ex-slave. She'd come to him, she was in his bed, things would follow her pace.
He could be patient, when he had to be.
Elias hummed, as he thought to explain what the Illiad was about. It was a lengthy poem, and an even lengthier written piece. "The Gods, and some of the stories of mortals that have interacted with the Gods." He stated, simply. The silence was easy, until he took his time studying her, and she responded that she was not easily scared.
He leaned forward, to tilt her face upwards. "If someone lays a hand upon you, Niobe," his words are quiet, as he forces her to meet his gaze. "Tell me. For as long as you are by my side, you will know nothing but kindness." He exhaled softly, brushing his thumb across her lips.
"Elias, in private. You need only call me by my title if we are in public, or around the servants of this home." He stated, firmly. His thumb pressed against her mouth for a moment, before he released her and laid back against his pillows.
He was gauging her for a reaction; had he pressed too far, was it just enough? He'd honeyed his words, whispered just a piece of what he'd promise her, if she stayed by his side. He'd let her create her own disillusionment, so that there would be little guilt left for him. After all, she was the one choosing to trust him. To believe him.
She settled into the bed, and he met her gaze, listening as she told him about her past. Just a snippet, but it was enough to make the man fume. But, instead of showing his anger, he merely reassured her that it was okay to think about it, to remember, to fear it. "There is nothing wrong with remembering your past, Niobe. It honors those you've lost, and lets you see when you have found better places to be in this world." He stated, not entirely true but true enough in this instance.
He shifted, murmuring, "Perhaps, in time, you'll come to love storms again." With me. Oh, he'd aim to turn her fear of storms into anything but—the godlike arrogance that this male had, meant he'd strive to make her associate storms with him; and in a much more pleasant way.
But, this was still just step one for the ex-slave. She'd come to him, she was in his bed, things would follow her pace.
He could be patient, when he had to be.
“You Greeks and your gods.” She muttered, though not unkindly. In truth she often felt envious of their belief. To have something, someone, to believe in - to know everything that happened to you, good or bad, there was a reason. As a child she used to pray, used to stare up at the stars and pretend she understood it all. But in truth she saw nothing and none of her prayers were ever answered. When bad things happened she could never understand - why did the good suffer while the bad people thrived? ‘The Gods are unkind, little girl.’ A man had explained to her. She frowned and glared up at the sky and swore she would not spend another breath on them. Years went by and she never did. So as much as she envied them, she also found them silly. There was nobody there; all anyone had was themselves.
At his touch she stilled, lips parting slighting as he crossed his thumb gently over them. She liked the way he said her name, like the way his lips formed around the word. She’d never thought it a name worth saying until now. Not a child, then, she thought with some amusement. At the insistence on using his name she smiled, though it was slight. Only in private, he said, as if there would be more private moments like this. “That’s quite the promise, Elias.” Her hand lifted to lightly trace his jaw as though in a trance - she knew she shouldn’t but found she couldn’t stop.
She shouldn’t be like this - like some abused dog he found on the street, once defensive from years of neglect but now submissive and so eager to please. It annoyed her to no end. But the lines seemed to all blur together until it was only them and he was so generous and patient. He’d given her so much already and promised even more.
Maybe…maybe just one night. She’d been at war all her life; for one night she could let herself go. Come tomorrow morning she’d leave this room and never enter it again. All her lessons would be done somewhere else, in his study perhaps, but not here.
Her eyes followed her fingers as they traveled down his neck, his chest and stopped just over his heart. “With you?” She asked innocently, finally meeting his gaze again.
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“You Greeks and your gods.” She muttered, though not unkindly. In truth she often felt envious of their belief. To have something, someone, to believe in - to know everything that happened to you, good or bad, there was a reason. As a child she used to pray, used to stare up at the stars and pretend she understood it all. But in truth she saw nothing and none of her prayers were ever answered. When bad things happened she could never understand - why did the good suffer while the bad people thrived? ‘The Gods are unkind, little girl.’ A man had explained to her. She frowned and glared up at the sky and swore she would not spend another breath on them. Years went by and she never did. So as much as she envied them, she also found them silly. There was nobody there; all anyone had was themselves.
At his touch she stilled, lips parting slighting as he crossed his thumb gently over them. She liked the way he said her name, like the way his lips formed around the word. She’d never thought it a name worth saying until now. Not a child, then, she thought with some amusement. At the insistence on using his name she smiled, though it was slight. Only in private, he said, as if there would be more private moments like this. “That’s quite the promise, Elias.” Her hand lifted to lightly trace his jaw as though in a trance - she knew she shouldn’t but found she couldn’t stop.
She shouldn’t be like this - like some abused dog he found on the street, once defensive from years of neglect but now submissive and so eager to please. It annoyed her to no end. But the lines seemed to all blur together until it was only them and he was so generous and patient. He’d given her so much already and promised even more.
Maybe…maybe just one night. She’d been at war all her life; for one night she could let herself go. Come tomorrow morning she’d leave this room and never enter it again. All her lessons would be done somewhere else, in his study perhaps, but not here.
Her eyes followed her fingers as they traveled down his neck, his chest and stopped just over his heart. “With you?” She asked innocently, finally meeting his gaze again.
“You Greeks and your gods.” She muttered, though not unkindly. In truth she often felt envious of their belief. To have something, someone, to believe in - to know everything that happened to you, good or bad, there was a reason. As a child she used to pray, used to stare up at the stars and pretend she understood it all. But in truth she saw nothing and none of her prayers were ever answered. When bad things happened she could never understand - why did the good suffer while the bad people thrived? ‘The Gods are unkind, little girl.’ A man had explained to her. She frowned and glared up at the sky and swore she would not spend another breath on them. Years went by and she never did. So as much as she envied them, she also found them silly. There was nobody there; all anyone had was themselves.
At his touch she stilled, lips parting slighting as he crossed his thumb gently over them. She liked the way he said her name, like the way his lips formed around the word. She’d never thought it a name worth saying until now. Not a child, then, she thought with some amusement. At the insistence on using his name she smiled, though it was slight. Only in private, he said, as if there would be more private moments like this. “That’s quite the promise, Elias.” Her hand lifted to lightly trace his jaw as though in a trance - she knew she shouldn’t but found she couldn’t stop.
She shouldn’t be like this - like some abused dog he found on the street, once defensive from years of neglect but now submissive and so eager to please. It annoyed her to no end. But the lines seemed to all blur together until it was only them and he was so generous and patient. He’d given her so much already and promised even more.
Maybe…maybe just one night. She’d been at war all her life; for one night she could let herself go. Come tomorrow morning she’d leave this room and never enter it again. All her lessons would be done somewhere else, in his study perhaps, but not here.
Her eyes followed her fingers as they traveled down his neck, his chest and stopped just over his heart. “With you?” She asked innocently, finally meeting his gaze again.
Elias chuckled softly, as she mumbled about the gods. "Well, you can pray to whatever, or whoever, you wish. Or not at all." He stated, with a shrug. He was an avid follower of Hades and various other Death deities, but he would not fault the woman for having no belief after the life she had led. If he had too, he'd become the god that she prayed too.
And Elias would always answer.
She seemed to be leaning into his touch, growing comfortable with him, and so he'd continue to casually touch her. "I always keep my promises, Niobe." He breathed the words in response, watching as she reached for his face. Her fingers trailed along his jaw, and then she was exploring his neck, his chest, until her hands found a home over his heart.
"Mmm, with me." He grinned up at her, and adjusted himself offhandedly. Niobe was in control, and he seemed willing to let her take that control. It was true of Elias, in the bedroom, he often preferred to be dominated—though he did not mind dominating someone if that was what they preferred.
A solid switch. For now, Niobe had as much control as she cared to keep. Their gaze met, and he smirked. "What do you want, Niobe? Shall we make this storm memorable?"
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Elias chuckled softly, as she mumbled about the gods. "Well, you can pray to whatever, or whoever, you wish. Or not at all." He stated, with a shrug. He was an avid follower of Hades and various other Death deities, but he would not fault the woman for having no belief after the life she had led. If he had too, he'd become the god that she prayed too.
And Elias would always answer.
She seemed to be leaning into his touch, growing comfortable with him, and so he'd continue to casually touch her. "I always keep my promises, Niobe." He breathed the words in response, watching as she reached for his face. Her fingers trailed along his jaw, and then she was exploring his neck, his chest, until her hands found a home over his heart.
"Mmm, with me." He grinned up at her, and adjusted himself offhandedly. Niobe was in control, and he seemed willing to let her take that control. It was true of Elias, in the bedroom, he often preferred to be dominated—though he did not mind dominating someone if that was what they preferred.
A solid switch. For now, Niobe had as much control as she cared to keep. Their gaze met, and he smirked. "What do you want, Niobe? Shall we make this storm memorable?"
Elias chuckled softly, as she mumbled about the gods. "Well, you can pray to whatever, or whoever, you wish. Or not at all." He stated, with a shrug. He was an avid follower of Hades and various other Death deities, but he would not fault the woman for having no belief after the life she had led. If he had too, he'd become the god that she prayed too.
And Elias would always answer.
She seemed to be leaning into his touch, growing comfortable with him, and so he'd continue to casually touch her. "I always keep my promises, Niobe." He breathed the words in response, watching as she reached for his face. Her fingers trailed along his jaw, and then she was exploring his neck, his chest, until her hands found a home over his heart.
"Mmm, with me." He grinned up at her, and adjusted himself offhandedly. Niobe was in control, and he seemed willing to let her take that control. It was true of Elias, in the bedroom, he often preferred to be dominated—though he did not mind dominating someone if that was what they preferred.
A solid switch. For now, Niobe had as much control as she cared to keep. Their gaze met, and he smirked. "What do you want, Niobe? Shall we make this storm memorable?"
When she smiled this time, it was full and followed by tinkling laughter. It surprised her, it had felt like years since the last time she laughed. There was just something about him, the way nothing seemed to shake him. Where she was aloof and monosyllabic at best, Elias was all foxish smiles and fire. He would burn her if she gave him half the chance, she was sure of it. But like the moth to the flame, she ventured ever closer anyway. “So the rumors are true. You’re an absolute scoundrel.” She’d heard many whispers about him since arriving - mostly that he, to put it nicely, liked his women. As did any man. She hadn’t cared for that one, not until she’d heard her name whispered alongside his.
Now, in his bed, it made her wonder. Had he planned to charm her into his bed and she’d provided an opportunity? Or was this simply one of those things that just…happened.
There were other rumors too. About his temper, about his cruelty. It was these rumors that she thought of often. She knew cruel men. She looked for that side of him whenever they were together, waited for it to show itself whenever she lashed out at him. He never met her with anger, though, only consideration. He could be stern but that was not the same as violence. She didn’t know what to believe, but as she felt his chest rise and fall beneath her hand, she willed his heart to be good.
“I don’t know what I want.” She breathed. She’d never been allowed to want anything before him. She had no dreams. It was foolish to want for anything when you knew you couldn’t have it, so she never did. Now she could - Elias had made it so. But where did one begin?
Here, maybe. He was a good man, handsome, and had taken better care of her in a few short months than anyone else had in her eighteen years of life. He did not punish her for her silence nor did he reward her for breaking it. He only wanted her to be true to herself and to him and it was then that she was praised. He wasn’t forceful; he always gauged her reactions before continuing. He made her…feel. That was worth a lot, wasn’t it?
Before she’d even made her mind up she was on top of him, legs on either side of his waist. She could no longer tell the difference between the thunder outside and the raging of her heart beat as she stared down at him, stock still. Her hair fell around her like a curtain, trapping her focus. There was nowhere to look but at him; as if she’d look anywhere else. “Is this…okay?”
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When she smiled this time, it was full and followed by tinkling laughter. It surprised her, it had felt like years since the last time she laughed. There was just something about him, the way nothing seemed to shake him. Where she was aloof and monosyllabic at best, Elias was all foxish smiles and fire. He would burn her if she gave him half the chance, she was sure of it. But like the moth to the flame, she ventured ever closer anyway. “So the rumors are true. You’re an absolute scoundrel.” She’d heard many whispers about him since arriving - mostly that he, to put it nicely, liked his women. As did any man. She hadn’t cared for that one, not until she’d heard her name whispered alongside his.
Now, in his bed, it made her wonder. Had he planned to charm her into his bed and she’d provided an opportunity? Or was this simply one of those things that just…happened.
There were other rumors too. About his temper, about his cruelty. It was these rumors that she thought of often. She knew cruel men. She looked for that side of him whenever they were together, waited for it to show itself whenever she lashed out at him. He never met her with anger, though, only consideration. He could be stern but that was not the same as violence. She didn’t know what to believe, but as she felt his chest rise and fall beneath her hand, she willed his heart to be good.
“I don’t know what I want.” She breathed. She’d never been allowed to want anything before him. She had no dreams. It was foolish to want for anything when you knew you couldn’t have it, so she never did. Now she could - Elias had made it so. But where did one begin?
Here, maybe. He was a good man, handsome, and had taken better care of her in a few short months than anyone else had in her eighteen years of life. He did not punish her for her silence nor did he reward her for breaking it. He only wanted her to be true to herself and to him and it was then that she was praised. He wasn’t forceful; he always gauged her reactions before continuing. He made her…feel. That was worth a lot, wasn’t it?
Before she’d even made her mind up she was on top of him, legs on either side of his waist. She could no longer tell the difference between the thunder outside and the raging of her heart beat as she stared down at him, stock still. Her hair fell around her like a curtain, trapping her focus. There was nowhere to look but at him; as if she’d look anywhere else. “Is this…okay?”
When she smiled this time, it was full and followed by tinkling laughter. It surprised her, it had felt like years since the last time she laughed. There was just something about him, the way nothing seemed to shake him. Where she was aloof and monosyllabic at best, Elias was all foxish smiles and fire. He would burn her if she gave him half the chance, she was sure of it. But like the moth to the flame, she ventured ever closer anyway. “So the rumors are true. You’re an absolute scoundrel.” She’d heard many whispers about him since arriving - mostly that he, to put it nicely, liked his women. As did any man. She hadn’t cared for that one, not until she’d heard her name whispered alongside his.
Now, in his bed, it made her wonder. Had he planned to charm her into his bed and she’d provided an opportunity? Or was this simply one of those things that just…happened.
There were other rumors too. About his temper, about his cruelty. It was these rumors that she thought of often. She knew cruel men. She looked for that side of him whenever they were together, waited for it to show itself whenever she lashed out at him. He never met her with anger, though, only consideration. He could be stern but that was not the same as violence. She didn’t know what to believe, but as she felt his chest rise and fall beneath her hand, she willed his heart to be good.
“I don’t know what I want.” She breathed. She’d never been allowed to want anything before him. She had no dreams. It was foolish to want for anything when you knew you couldn’t have it, so she never did. Now she could - Elias had made it so. But where did one begin?
Here, maybe. He was a good man, handsome, and had taken better care of her in a few short months than anyone else had in her eighteen years of life. He did not punish her for her silence nor did he reward her for breaking it. He only wanted her to be true to herself and to him and it was then that she was praised. He wasn’t forceful; he always gauged her reactions before continuing. He made her…feel. That was worth a lot, wasn’t it?
Before she’d even made her mind up she was on top of him, legs on either side of his waist. She could no longer tell the difference between the thunder outside and the raging of her heart beat as she stared down at him, stock still. Her hair fell around her like a curtain, trapping her focus. There was nowhere to look but at him; as if she’d look anywhere else. “Is this…okay?”
Elias watched her, hiding his surprise well enough. Her laughter was soft, almost a flute's melody, and he could not help but wonder after it. How long had it been since she last laughed? How long would it be, before she laughed again? Would she laugh for him, again? Or would this be the only time she let that side of herself be revealed to him? He was breathless as he wondered, almost missing her statement.
And then, he grinned. A boyish grin upwards, "Am I the sort of scoundrel that the rumors say I am, though?" He inquired, curiously. She had been the one to climb into his bed, she had been the one to choose how near they were. She was the one responding, the one placing down every piece of framework for the relationship that would ensue, if she let it.
He was merely stepping on the stones she laid before him. While he was still thinking, she declared that she did not know what she wanted, and then, shortly after she had climbed on top of him. Elias' gaze followed, his eyes glued to her every movement, dark earthy hues searching her face, lingering a moment too long on her mouth as she asked her question.
"If it is okay with you, then it is okay with me." He stated, quietly. He was not, by any means, new to the love of women. He was, like she'd said, a scoundrel. A respectful man, though, where most may not be. Though every woman served a purpose; and some of their purposes was merely to give him a good time and disappear into the night.
Niobe, though...
If she were another station, a proper Lady... well, he could see himself marrying her. He was quite certain he had heard of a Senator wedding a commoner. Perhaps, he'd give it some thought. He was already a disappointment to his father; why not further walk that road a while?
His thoughts wandered, as did his eyes, a hungry look finding its home on his features. "Whatever you want, Niobe, just ask for." He breathed, reaching up to stroke her cheek.
"And use your voice, if you want to stop." That, at least, he was consistent with when bedding a woman. Should she have any objections or change of heart, he'd simply get up and leave. Though, this being in his room, in his home, made that bit trickier than usual.
His thumb brushed her lips again, and very carefully, he leaned up towards her. Elias gauged her reaction, before he pressed a slow, gentle kiss to her lips. It was a mere peck, and ended much too soon, but she was still in control here.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
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Elias watched her, hiding his surprise well enough. Her laughter was soft, almost a flute's melody, and he could not help but wonder after it. How long had it been since she last laughed? How long would it be, before she laughed again? Would she laugh for him, again? Or would this be the only time she let that side of herself be revealed to him? He was breathless as he wondered, almost missing her statement.
And then, he grinned. A boyish grin upwards, "Am I the sort of scoundrel that the rumors say I am, though?" He inquired, curiously. She had been the one to climb into his bed, she had been the one to choose how near they were. She was the one responding, the one placing down every piece of framework for the relationship that would ensue, if she let it.
He was merely stepping on the stones she laid before him. While he was still thinking, she declared that she did not know what she wanted, and then, shortly after she had climbed on top of him. Elias' gaze followed, his eyes glued to her every movement, dark earthy hues searching her face, lingering a moment too long on her mouth as she asked her question.
"If it is okay with you, then it is okay with me." He stated, quietly. He was not, by any means, new to the love of women. He was, like she'd said, a scoundrel. A respectful man, though, where most may not be. Though every woman served a purpose; and some of their purposes was merely to give him a good time and disappear into the night.
Niobe, though...
If she were another station, a proper Lady... well, he could see himself marrying her. He was quite certain he had heard of a Senator wedding a commoner. Perhaps, he'd give it some thought. He was already a disappointment to his father; why not further walk that road a while?
His thoughts wandered, as did his eyes, a hungry look finding its home on his features. "Whatever you want, Niobe, just ask for." He breathed, reaching up to stroke her cheek.
"And use your voice, if you want to stop." That, at least, he was consistent with when bedding a woman. Should she have any objections or change of heart, he'd simply get up and leave. Though, this being in his room, in his home, made that bit trickier than usual.
His thumb brushed her lips again, and very carefully, he leaned up towards her. Elias gauged her reaction, before he pressed a slow, gentle kiss to her lips. It was a mere peck, and ended much too soon, but she was still in control here.
Elias watched her, hiding his surprise well enough. Her laughter was soft, almost a flute's melody, and he could not help but wonder after it. How long had it been since she last laughed? How long would it be, before she laughed again? Would she laugh for him, again? Or would this be the only time she let that side of herself be revealed to him? He was breathless as he wondered, almost missing her statement.
And then, he grinned. A boyish grin upwards, "Am I the sort of scoundrel that the rumors say I am, though?" He inquired, curiously. She had been the one to climb into his bed, she had been the one to choose how near they were. She was the one responding, the one placing down every piece of framework for the relationship that would ensue, if she let it.
He was merely stepping on the stones she laid before him. While he was still thinking, she declared that she did not know what she wanted, and then, shortly after she had climbed on top of him. Elias' gaze followed, his eyes glued to her every movement, dark earthy hues searching her face, lingering a moment too long on her mouth as she asked her question.
"If it is okay with you, then it is okay with me." He stated, quietly. He was not, by any means, new to the love of women. He was, like she'd said, a scoundrel. A respectful man, though, where most may not be. Though every woman served a purpose; and some of their purposes was merely to give him a good time and disappear into the night.
Niobe, though...
If she were another station, a proper Lady... well, he could see himself marrying her. He was quite certain he had heard of a Senator wedding a commoner. Perhaps, he'd give it some thought. He was already a disappointment to his father; why not further walk that road a while?
His thoughts wandered, as did his eyes, a hungry look finding its home on his features. "Whatever you want, Niobe, just ask for." He breathed, reaching up to stroke her cheek.
"And use your voice, if you want to stop." That, at least, he was consistent with when bedding a woman. Should she have any objections or change of heart, he'd simply get up and leave. Though, this being in his room, in his home, made that bit trickier than usual.
His thumb brushed her lips again, and very carefully, he leaned up towards her. Elias gauged her reaction, before he pressed a slow, gentle kiss to her lips. It was a mere peck, and ended much too soon, but she was still in control here.
