velvet nights

excitement curdles in her blood,goes down into her veins and nerves, and pricks her skin until she can feel alive,until the pale hair of her arms stand tall.

She nearly welcomes it. After so much defeat and numbness,after all, she has passed. The feeling of knowing she can still feel happiness and serenity reassures her in ways she doesn’t know.

Her father has smiled at her—that abundant, irritating, and full of wine smile—and asked (it was not just demanding; of course he was commanding her).

"Will you watch over him, Diana?"

and there was no point in arguing or screaming until her lungs permitted her, for she just had to take care of Lord Baneth until he recovered,and honestly, she was quite pleased about it. She just had to remember to cover her bruises better with her dresses.

And so she waits here in the dark,in the corridor that divides her chambers from the ones that were once her grandsire’s,now the dark lord's, during his stay after the hunt.

She’s furious with her father for entrusting her with this task. She may be his "aberrant daughter" (as he likes to call her every time he has the occasion), but she’s not a maid; he can move around like she’s some kind of piece on a chess board,even if that’s what she was. a bargaining chip for her father’s affairs,as he already had an heir and she was his only daughter.

Eventually, she takes courage and walks a long hallway.

The curtains rustled with the secrets of the night as Diana tiptoed into what was once her grandsire’s room. Her steps were light and hurried,like a lion waiting for her prey to come. even if she was no lion and in the end always the prey,but not this time,she won’t let this be the end of her story.

She takes a seat by the side of his bed,and without even noticing, she begins to observe him.

His dark hair is gently lying on the pillow, and his piercing blue eyes are now closed for the night. If she looked a little closer, she could see the freckles on his nose and the wrinkles in his smile.

He almost looked good—a far cry from the ferocious and bold man she saw the other day during the hunt.

Her dark lord

She has been watching him for a long time now,since the feast of spring. before the winter came and took everything from her,firstly her mother and then her no longer loving father.

Lord Baneth stirs in his sleep and kicks the covers of the bed. He immediately begins to shiver, and Diana, by instinct, rises to retrieve the blanket. She definitely doesn’t want him to get a cold,in addition to his already grave wound.

She looks at him again. He’s full of bruises and lesions on his legs and arms; a long wound runs across his chest. That boar nearly killed him; thankfully, her father found him before the worst could have happened.

She’s glad for it; she didn’t know what she would have done if something bad happened to him—to her dashing and lawful dark lord. All of a sudden, she feels a need—she wants to touch him. Sense his skin under her fingers, and know that he’s real because sometimes he seems like he’s not to her. With his sapphire eyes,his ivory skin, and his scarlet cheeks,it’s hard to say he is.

At last, she gets herself closer to him,and she looks at him once more,like she did all night.

She has to touch him to finally feel him.

She runs her finger across his arm gently; she doesn’t want to wake him. His skin is soft under her touch; not as she expected it to be. He’s a man of war in the end.

Then she moves her finger to his chest, where the wound lies; it seems quite deep. After she goes towards his hand, which is different from the rest of his skin,his hand is callous and coarse, probably from his training with the sword. Still, it feels strange—his skin,his smell—it somehow feels like home. It reminds her of her childhood and her youth,when her father used to warm her in his arms and everything would go silent for an instant. Those moments are now a distant memory.

And in the cold and quietness of the night, Diana watched her Lord rest.

the next morning, Diana rises from her chair by the bed,her loins stuff and tense, her eyes red from the lack of sleep. Lord Baneth is still asleep. She goes for the door; there is still a lot to rearrange for the day, and she had to take some rest or would not make it for the next nights.

The day passed and the night came with its secrets,one of them Diana’s love and her longing stares at an asleep lord who has been haunting her for moons.

Finally, Lord Baneth awakens some days later,still flushed and weakened but lucid enough. He spends the afternoon in silence,watching as the maids tend his wound. Diana is always there, intently watching; they do not make mistakes of any kind. She’s determined to keep him as safe as she can. She may not know how to use a sword, but she can fight with her hands and teeth—everything to keep him defended and guarded.

Then the most surreal thing happens: Lord Baneth asks for her hand.

"He asked for your hand this same morrow; finally, you’ll be of some utility", says her father when he summoned her in his solar that morrow. "He asked who took care of him during his days of recovery,and I said your name" he continues proudly. I knew he would ask for your hand the moment he found out what you did for him. Thank me, daughter; he then barks. She thanks him slyly.

How dare he?

How dare he force her to thank him? She did all the work,she spent a fortnight by Lord Baneth's bedside, and she lost her sleep for endless nights. She did it for her lord, of course,but her father could have thanked her at the very least. But what could she expect? She knew her father and how he was; he changed after the death of her mother, and she could do nothing about it.

Still, she had to be sure about something.

The velvet darkness of the night was alive with its secrets as Diana walked the corridor that led her to her lord. She was hesitant, but she opened the scratching door the same. She needed to know,to see him,to understand if everything was just in her mind or that she was right to believe his desire to marry her to be true when he asked her father for his hand that past tomorrow.

Ultimately, she can see him while hiding behind the door. His hair was gently leaning on his shoulders, and his ruinous blue eyes were enlightened by the flames. Finally, she takes the courage to step into the room,her long crimson robes screeching on the floor.

"the colors of his house."

She thinks there was a motive behind her choosing this specific robe—to come and see him,her rogue dark lord.

"My lady," he says without looking,like he already knows it’s her.

Diana walks towards him,afraid of placing a foot wrong from the excitement. "Please sit with me by the fire; it’s a cold night"he says, taking his word as a command,unable to say anything but yes to him.

The flames were alive in her sight,warming her with their embrace; she didn’t know if it was him or the flames to be true.

For a time, they just sit together,listening to the flickering of the flames and the warmth they emanate,until suddenly he comes closer to her,away from his safe spot on the parallel side of the triclinium,lifting her chin to meet his gaze.

For a moment, there’s a spark between them.

"What’s troubling your mind? he asks,breaking the silence that divides them.

"What do you mean, my lord?" She says she is acting confused,even if something has been troubling her mind for moons and moons by now.

"Why did you come here, my lady? he demands. "What brought you here in the middle of the night in my chambers?" He asks, finally looking at her with those cold eyes of his. Diana can feel her eyes pinch, tears threatening to come out.

She’s still staring at the fire.

She doesn’t know what to say or do; her eyes mirror,her hands intertwine, and, begging he doesn’t notice her almost sob.

As always, he found her unprepared and not able to speak or do something with his creeping and fascinating curiosity,each time leaving her completely frozen by his presence.

Once more, Diana stays silent for a time that feels like eternity,still feeling his eyes on her.

"Your proposal, my lord, she eventually says,his gaze not fading from her.

"Why me? Certainly, other ladies have caught your eye—some definitely more suitable and comely than me" She stops for a moment,her chest up and down,afraid of speaking of the query that has been haunting her since forever.

"so,why me?" She says,her voice a little broken,not above a whisper.

He furrows his eyebrows,like he’s confused by what she just said.

"Diana",

his voice like the most melodic of the songs,she loves the way her name sits on his tongue,she thinks what would it look like between her lips; "from the moment-" he stops for an instant,like there’s something holding him back,

"from the moment i saw you,i knew something there was something rather different was in you",

he blurts out,

"I saw myself in you,like a mirror;"

he says with a genuine smile,the most generous she ever saw.

"With your stubbornness and your incapacity to take no for an answer and the will to fight for what and for whom you love, I saw me", he says, taking her hand in his and kissing her knuckles.

"And also what you did for me",

he says again, his eyes never leaving hers.

"It was the most generous gesture someone ever did for me; it was pure".

He squeezes her hand again, his touch something rare—something she never felt before: home.

"What I'm trying to say is that souls like ours don’t meet by accident; believe me, Diana."

Again, he finds her unprepared,completely engaged by him, unable to look elsewhere. Like a moth into a flame, she’s incapable of moving her eyes elsewhere and cursed to watch him,even if what she sees pleases her more than anything.

"My Lord, I-",

"No, don’t say anything, he interrupts.

"Just say yes,only if you want to, of course"

and with that proposal,she takes him in her embrace, kissing his flushed lips and letting him feel her love.

Maybe her father was right.