Josefine_4852

She was kneeling on the cold stone floor of the main hall with her hands tied behind her back. Not daring to face the intruders she kept her head low and her gaze fixed on the ground. 
She was only wearing a nightgown and her messily tied hair had started to come undone, causing lose strands of auburn colored hair to cover her face. She was thin; way to thin as most would probably say. Her beautiful features were concealed by sunken cheeks, dark circles and a dull complexion. 
Beside her was the rest of the family, all of them kneeling in a row with their hands tied back. She hadn’t gotten a good look but from the corner of her eye her father had appeared to be badly beaten...

*** 

The man who had killed her family that night had been truly terrifying. His face was entirely unfeeling as he beheaded them and he did not flinch when their bodies hit the floor.
So why had that man defied the king's orders just to spare her life? 

Amelia thought that her miserable life would continue being filled with nothing but abuse. 
She had not expected that she would be treated kindly, both by him and by his servants. And she had certainly not expected that she would slowly begin to let her guard down aroud him.

***

(Cover art from pinterest)

A thorny path

Amelia woke up late that day. The sun was already high in the sky and invaded the room through the cracks of the curtains. It was way too bright and the light made her eyes sting. Her head was pounding and she felt increadibly nauseous. 


It only became worse when she attempted to sit up. 


With a groan she leaned her forehead against her knees so that the duvet blocked off the light from the windows. After staying in that position for a while she began to feel a bit better and she was able to slowly lift her head. 


The duke's room looked different in the daylight. Rather than dull like it had appeared the previous night it gave off a more homely atmosphere. The rustic and slightly dated furniture, the old fashioned bedding and the smell of burnt firewood… It all made her feel at ease. She enjoyed the simplicity better than the lavish room she'd been given, probably because it was more similar to how she had grown up. 


On the bedside table next to her stood a jug of water and a glass with a folded note leaned against it. When she unraveled the paper she saw a short message written in messy handwriting. 


Gone to do work. Call for my servants and they will help you get ready. I left medicine on the coffetable that helps with hangovers.


Amelia was once again perplexed by the needless thoughfulness. The duke was proving to be someone that she could not understand at all. On one hand he glared at her like she was nothing but a disgusting bug to him, on the other he did gestures like this. Not to mention how he had comforted her and made a promise to provide for her while expecting practically nothing in return…


Rather than feeling relieved by the kindness he showed Amelia was uncomfortable. It was suspicious. People, especially men, did nothing without expecting something in return and she had a strong inclination that he did not merely want to spread a rumor about taking a mistress like he had told her.


She was growing anxious thinking about what he truly wanted. How much better it would have been if he was outright horrible to her or if he selfishly used her as he pleased. That way she'd at least be able to understand him and predict his actions. 


'I've been way too relaxed this past week. I need to properly start to plan ahead.'  


She poured herself a glass of water, emptied it in just a few gulps and slid her feet into the slippers that she'd kicked off on the floor next to the bed. 


Tiredly she dragged her body across the room to the seating area where a bell and the aforementioned bottle of stomach medicine had been left on the coffetable. Amelia avoided the medicine even though the nausea had only gotten worse since she started moving around. There was no way of knowing what was in it. 


Instead she picked up the bell and rang for the servants. The anxiety would likely only get worse if she did not begin to formulate a plan.


The day after