Her first night.

Luciana could feel the warmth of his presence looming over her. His fingers traced lightly across the back of her neck, pausing momentarily as if assessing something. Then, without a word, he withdrew his hand and moved away from the bed, leaving her too frightened to rise.

"You should be thankful that the creature didn't lay a hand on you," he said, removing his blood-stained cloak.

A knock at the door interrupted him, drawing an irritated sigh.

"Can they not leave me in peace?" he muttered, clicking his tongue. He moved to the door, his frustration palpable.

"What is it now?" he demanded.

"Master, a soldier has come to deliver his report," Blake replied, bowing slightly.

"My lord, I have brought the men as commanded," another voice added. It was Ahriman, standing beside Blake.

"Tell them to rest. I will meet them in the armory later," he instructed, his tone curt.

"As you wish, my lord," Ahriman replied respectfully before exiting.

Turning back towards Luciana, who remained motionless, he smirked as she instinctively moved to cover herself with her clothes. His smile was wicked, his eyes predatory.

Discarding his shirt, he approached her with deliberate steps. As she fumbled for her chemise, he leaned in close, whispering against her ear.

"Serve me well tonight," he murmured, his fingers brushing her flushed cheeks. His breath was warm against her skin. Playfully, he bit her ear, causing her to shiver.

"There's only so much restraint I have left," he added, the threat veiled beneath his tone. Then, without waiting for her response, he retreated to bathe.

Luciana, trembling, pulled her chemise over her head, hugging herself tightly.

"What did he mean by that?" she thought, her mind racing. "He was only checking my wounds... wasn't he?"

Her thoughts spiraled, a tangle of fear and uncertainty. She had chosen this path the moment she had agreed to her father's plea, but the weight of that choice now felt unbearable. Escape seemed impossible. The only hope lay with the merchants, but the Blue Van hadn't come when she needed them most.

Tears welled in her eyes as she whispered a prayer.

"Oh God, if you're listening… please, help me. I can't bear this any longer."

She did not notice him returning until he was standing by the fireplace, his hair damp from the bath. He wore fresh woolen trousers and a heavy overcoat, the bandages on his shoulder freshly wrapped. He drank from her cup before sitting on the couch, his war axe resting on his lap as he sharpened the blade with a flint stone.

Luciana watched him warily, her every movement cautious.

"Come here," he said, his voice softer this time.

She hesitated, frozen in place until he stopped mid-motion, his eyes locking onto hers. The intensity of his gaze made her flinch.

"I may be a brute, but I won't harm my wife. You can relax."

Despite his words, her body remained tense. It was only when he set aside the axe that she dared move, sliding cautiously off the bed to sit by him.

"Not on the rug," he sighed. "Sit beside me."

Reluctantly, she moved to the far end of the couch, as distant from him as possible.

"Do you think I'm some kind of madman?" he asked, exasperated, before catching her arm and pulling her closer.

"I never imagined talking to my own wife would be this difficult," he muttered under his breath.

"Please," she whispered, her voice trembling, "please, let me go."

"You're thinking of running, aren't you?" His tone was cold, accusatory.

"N-no," she stammered. "I'm not."

He seemed to realize his grip was too tight, and he loosened it, though his expression remained hard.

"Are all of your kind this fragile, or is it just you?" he asked, his words edged with disdain.

"Women are naturally weaker," she replied quietly.

He snorted. "Mina's tough. So are the other women here."

Luciana bristled at the comparison.

"I've never done hard labor," she explained, trying to steady her voice.

"You seem used to raising children, though," he said bluntly.

She flinched at his crudeness.

"That's because I raised my younger sisters," she said, her voice growing faint.

"Aren't parents supposed to do that?" he asked. His casual ignorance of her situation stung.

There was a long pause before she responded.

"My mother… the Empress… died when my youngest sister was born," she said, her voice thick with emotion. "I had no choice but to take her place."

"At least you still have family," he muttered, almost to himself.

She glanced at him, surprised by the unexpected vulnerability in his tone. His eyes, hardened by years of battle, looked distant—lonely.

"Are you alone?" she asked, regretting the question as soon as it left her lips.

He smirked, though the gesture was bitter.

"What do you expect from an abandoned war orphan and a former slave?"

Her heart tightened at his words.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

"No need for that," he replied dismissively.

After a moment, his gaze turned to her again, sharper this time.

"What do you think of me?" he asked suddenly.

Caught off guard, Luciana said nothing.

"You detest me, don't you?" His tone was unreadable, but his eyes searched hers for an answer.

She looked away, her silence speaking louder than words.

His fingers brushed through her long white hair, which slipped effortlessly through his hands like silk.

"And yet you didn't resist my touch," he murmured, moving closer to her.

Luciana tensed, her instincts screaming to guard herself.

"You're doing this out of duty, aren't you?" he asked, his voice low. "Because you think it's what a wife should do?"

He cupped her face, his rough thumb brushing across her lips. Her cheeks flushed with warmth, and she felt her heart quicken under his gaze. She didn't desire him—of that, she was certain—but he was drawn to her in a way he didn't fully understand.

She had never judged him, never looked at him with the lust or fear that others did. Perhaps that was why he was so fixated on her, why he couldn't let her go.

Slowly, he leaned in, his breath hot against her skin. Before she could protest, his lips were on hers, firm and insistent.

Luciana's heart sank. She knew there was no escape. Resigned to her fate, she allowed the kiss, knowing that refusing him would only make things worse.