Chapter Text
It was altogether an unremarkable morning. Midwinter chill gathered frost in the air and it hung suspended and heavy. Dogs snoozed on porches and chickens pecked around the little houses that lined the square. The baker and grocer were sleepily getting their wares ready as the rest of the small village began to stir.
The quiet was broken when a resounding crash came from the house on the hill. It was owned by a foreign merchant called Minci, though the locals called him Monsieur Maigre behind his back. It was quite a beautiful home, made of cream colored stone and warm wood instead of the dark timber the locals favoured, but presently the door hung off its hinges and a chair had been tossed through one of its windows.
One of the soldiers standing guard by the carriage out front rapped his knuckles hesitantly on the frame.
“Your Grace, we have searched the home but have turned up nothing of value. The girl and her father had nothing, save for some books. What is your command?”
The carriage door opened slowly and a silver-heeled boot stepped out. Its owner was dressed finely in silver and black, and carried a sword cane embellished with filigree. The tall, stern-faced woman glanced at the cottage disdainfully, her flint eyes devoid of any emotion. From within the cottage came the sounds of struggle, and a young woman was tossed out onto the dirt path, shivering in nothing but her night shift. Frederica Gunnhildr’s eyes sharpened with a predatory gleam.
“This is the daughter?”
“Yes, my Lord Duke.”
Duke Gunnhildr lifted up the girl’s chin with the tip of her sword cane, uncaring of the dirt she smeared on her cheek.
“She’s quite a comely thing, isn’t she? Surprisingly fine-featured for lowborn filth.” Frederica tilted the girl’s head from side to side, noting the fire in her startling green eyes.
“And an uncommon eye colour. Tell me, girl, how old are you?”
The young woman resolutely shut her mouth and glared back from underneath her tousled brown curls. Frederica’s lips set with displeasure. The girl was rewarded with a sharp backhand across the cheek, sending her sprawling to her knees.
“Mind your betters, or next time the damage done to your pretty face will be permanent.” Her voice was flat, and utterly devoid of emotion. The duke turned back towards the carriage. “No matter, she looks young enough. Take her. And burn that hovel down.”
At this, the girl went wide-eyed in horror and anguish, struggling against the soldiers as they led her to the carriage.
“ Please ,” she screamed. “My father is still in there, h-he can’t move, he’s sick—!”
Frederica glanced back over her shoulder at the desperate young woman.
“Burn it down. Tie up the girl and give her one of your cloaks for the cold. I wouldn’t want her to lose her extremities before my daughter can make use of them.”
***
Lisa woke up with her cheek pressed against frozen, unforgiving stone. The soldier’s cloak was still wrapped around her, but the comfort it provided was paltry. She winced as her raw wrists rubbed against the coarse rope tying them together.
She couldn’t stop the trickle of tears making their way down her face as she remembered the events of the past several hours. Her home was gone… and so was her father. Their trading business had been failing as of late, especially with the strict taxes and laws the Gunnhildrs enforced. Once her father fell ill, there was no way for them to pay their dues. And so, Frederica Gunnhildr had come to take everything from them. And, for some obscure reason, Lisa, too.
Lisa wrapped the cloak tighter around her as she suddenly remembered something Frederica had mentioned. She had said… something about her daughter. Lisa shuddered, although not from the chill.
It was a tale whispered softly around fires and at dinner tables, for fear of Duke Gunnhildr’s wrath if spoken aloud.. As the story went, Frederica once had a daughter and a husband.
It was said that her daughter was a prodigy who excelled in all her studies and was on her way to becoming one of the best swordsmen in the kingdom. She was Frederica’s pride and joy, the heir to her title. However, tragedy struck the family in the girl’s 13th year, when a band of highwaymen accosted the carriage she and her father were riding in. They found her father’s body with his throat slit in a red grin at the site of the attack, but the girl was nowhere to be seen. The dogs found her hours later, hidden in the forest and sitting in a pool of her own blood. She had suffered a horrific injury to her face, and was unable to see out of her right eye.
Frederica was apoplectic with rage, and she organised a bloody manhunt to find those responsible. She tried everything to help her daughter, to no avail. With no other recourse, she turned to witchcraft, seeking the help of a sorceress who lived within the Black Forest on the northern outskirts of their holdings. As soon as the deal was struck, she led her daughter into the forest, and the girl was never seen again.
Some said that the girl was turned into a wolf, her sight restored but forever trapped in the body of a beast. Others said that the witch failed, and the girl was hidden away so Frederica would not have to look at her face and remember what she lost. Regardless, no one had seen the Gunnhildr Heir since.
Lisa felt a sick thrill of fear deep in her stomach. What sort of horrid monster was she to be bound to? A wild beast who could rip her apart with its teeth and claws, or an altogether different evil, a hideous captor who would treat her just as cruelly as Frederica?
BANG! A door slammed shut from outside her cell, and she scrambled into a crouched position against the wall, shaken from her musings. She heard two sets of feet scuff against stone, a hushed conversation being carried out in the corridor. One voice she was unfamiliar with, and the other sent a shiver down her spine.
“Mother–” The other, deeper voice began.
“Be quiet, Jean,” snapped Frederica Gunnhildr. “You should consider yourself lucky I took your tastes into account. She is beautiful enough, especially for our purposes. And she will have no family to come looking for her or to influence her against us. ”
There was a pause, and a murmur from the second voice that Lisa couldn’t make out.
“Oh for heaven’s sake, Jean, do whatever you want with her after you’re married and your claim is recognized,” Frederica said, exasperated. “Kill her, bed her, abandon her— It doesn’t matter to me. Your cousins grow bolder by the day, and your inheritance, my legacy , will not be jeopardised by your willfulness.”
Lisa flinched, then grit her teeth and wiped the remnants of tears from her cheeks.
“She is better than you deserve, with your deformity. Be happy with that at least.” Frederica’s voice softened the slightest bit, but it only made the sting of the remark worse.
The second voice didn’t answer. Footsteps echoed as Frederica left, leaving her daughter behind.
A shadow fell on the meagre ray of light illuminating Lisa’s cell. She looked up at the window, squinting through the darkness, but alas, the figure was standing too far away. All Lisa could see was that she was tall. And human shaped, at least.
The deep voice spoke again. It had an unexpected softness to its melody that prickled the hair on the back of Lisa’s neck.
“You’ll come to dinner tonight.” It was not quite a question. “My manservant and my butler will show you to your rooms and provide you with some clothing.”
Lisa bristled with anger but kept quiet.
The shadow hesitated, as if it were going to say more, then it left, leaving light to shine into Lisa’s cell once more.
***
A short while later, the stone door of the cell opened, and two figures stepped inside. The first was a fine-looking man wearing a neatly-tailored black and silver coat over a shirt with a plunging neckline. A blue and silver ascot was tied around his neck at a jaunty angle, and he bore an eyepatch over his right eye. His warm skin and long, dark hair were roguishly attractive, had Lisa been inclined to feel that way about men. The second was a tall woman with pale skin and dark, strikingly short hair. She had an air of detached efficiency, and she also wore a suit with the black and silver colours of the Gunnhildrs.
The man bowed smoothly at the waist. “Allow me to introduce myself, my lady. I am Alberich, my Lord’s manservant. Accompanying me is Diamant, my Lord’s butler. We have been sent to prepare you for dinner tonight with the Master.”
Lisa glared. “I don’t suppose I have a choice in the matter, do I?”
The woman shook her head slightly, and said somewhat mournfully, “no. You do not.”
Lisa stood, refusing to wince at the cramps in her legs from sitting for so long. She silently offered her hands to Alberich. He gave her a sad smile and cut her bonds with a knife he produced from somewhere within his coat.
“If you’ll follow me, my lady. Your rooms are this way.” Diamant turned and exited the cell. Lisa followed, aware of Alberich hovering closely behind her, preventing her from escape.
The journey through the castle was not exactly comforting. It had cavernous ceilings, and moonlight shone through its windows, casting garish shadows on its walls. None of the torches in the sconces were lit, and the only other light came from the lantern in Diamant’s hand. Lisa was still in her shift and stepping on the stone floors sent jolts of ice travelling up her legs.
After a slightly long journey through convoluted halls and passageways, they arrived at a set of double doors. Diamant turned to face Lisa.
“This will be your suite of rooms while you are a guest of Lord Gunnhildr. Some temporary clothing has been provided until we can fit you for a new wardrobe. Alberich will collect you in 30 minutes to escort you to dinner.”
She opened the doors to usher Lisa in.
“You may let us know if you need assistance by ringing the bell near the door,” she said shortly.
With a bow, her and Alberich retreated through the doors, leaving Lisa alone in the enormous suite. She heard only one set of footsteps leave, and when she peeked through the keyhole, she saw that Alberich had taken up guard outside of her door. Frustrating, but expected. She sighed and turned to inspect the room.
The bed was large, with a beautiful canopy and cream bedding. The wardrobe was a pretty powder blue, trimmed in silver. Unlike the rest of the castle, the sconces in the room were already lit, a cheerful fire crackling along in the small fireplace. Lisa felt her heart twinge at how cosy it was.
It was a beautiful cage she had found herself in.
She shook herself grimly out of her self-pity and went over to the wardrobe. Inside it were a few pieces of everyday clothing of simple design, but made with rich fabric and possessing fine craftsmanship. Tucked to the side, hung an evening dress that left Lisa breathless.
She couldn’t help but let out a stunned gasp as she pulled it out. It was a beautiful deep purple, accented with gold, its cut unlike anything she had ever seen. Instead of large skirts and frills, the dress was sleek and slim, with a narrow waist. Lisa ran her hands over the fabric and marvelled at how soft and silky it was. A glint caught her eye at the dresser, and she moved over to find jewellery set out for her. A ribbon choker with a black gem set into it and gold clasps, as well as a set of golden chandelier earrings. Black, full-length gloves lay neatly folded off to the side.
She found some underthings in the wardrobe and proceeded to change out of her own tattered clothing. She slipped the dress over her head and smoothed it down carefully. It fit her well, though it was a bit tight in the bust. She turned to gaze at herself in the full-length mirror by the wardrobe.
A stranger stared back at her. Never had she worn such fine clothing in her life, and she was struck by the change she saw in herself. Her breasts peeked invitingly over the low neckline, and the off-the shoulder straps made the lines of her neck and shoulders appear long and elegant. Her waist and hips were shapely, the sway of them accentuated by the slimmer shape of the skirt.
She should have felt like a prize sow, being dressed up before auction. But as she gazed at her reflection in the mirror, she felt elated. This was her power, this would be her salvation. Her captor had unwittingly handed her the very means with which to exact her revenge. In a world where her beauty was the denotation of her value, it would also be her weapon.
She looked alluringly feminine, and untouchably beautiful. She looked like a killer.
***
Alberich had stared at her quietly when she opened the door after his knock. He took her in appraisingly, his eye unbearably sad for a moment. Then he quickly regained his composure and offered her a charming smile.
“My lady, dinner is ready to be served. Lord Gunnhildr requests the pleasure of your company this evening.”
Lisa wordlessly followed him. As they walked through the castle’s darkened halls, she felt a slight curl of fear and anticipation unfurl in her stomach. But her earlier bravado kept her shoulders straight and her chin proud, and when they arrived at the door to the dining hall, there was no tremble to her hands. She smoothed down her skirts a final time as Alberich opened the doors.
“Announcing the arrival of Miss Minci,” he said, before bowing and moving to the side.
Lisa got her first glimpse of the room as his broad shoulders left her view. It was surprisingly dark, with only the glow from the fireplace and the large windows to light the room. A long table sat in the centre, with two places set at each end. The light flickered off the fine silverware.
Lisa looked at the figure standing in front of the mantle, and she began to think that perhaps the dim lighting was purposeful. Their back was turned to her, but they were tall and dressed in a beautiful black waistcoat trimmed in silver. The light of the fireplace shone on their pale hair, tied back low and loose.
“How unfortunate that we must meet in these circumstances, my lady.” Her tone was measured and unreadable.
Lisa’s heart leapt into her throat at the sound and her fists clenched. She steadied herself so there would be no waver in her voice.
“How could we have met? You have yet to see my face, and I have yet to see yours,” Lisa replied. She made her voice soft, though her brain screamed at her to shout out her rage and grief.
The figure paused, with their head tilted slightly so that Lisa could see the edge of a refined cheekbone. A mirthless noise escaped from their lips as their gloved hand smoothed a few blonde strands back.
“My apologies. You are right, I have forgotten myself.”
The figure turned around. Slowly, they stepped forward into the light of a moonbeam so that their face and entire body were revealed. Lisa couldn’t help but part her lips to take a breath of surprise. The figure inclined their head politely and spoke.
“I am Jean Gunnhildr, Marquis of Favonia, heir to the Gunnhildr Duchy.”
Lord Gunnhildr straightened and looked into Lisa’s eyes.
“Please allow me to properly make your acquaintance, my lady.”
She extended her hand as if to grasp Lisa’s fingers and kiss them in greeting. Lisa recoiled and took an inadvertent step back. Jean’s eyes dimmed, her smile taking on a mournful touch.
A knock sounded at the door, and Alberich cleared his throat.
“My lord and lady, dinner is served.”
***
It was quiet, save for the soft clinking of their silverware. Alberich had closed the doors behind him after their dinner was laid out on the table, and they were left fully alone. They had been sitting in silence for a while now. A feast had been brought before them; rare cuts of venison, stews, varieties of greens and candied fruits, and rich loaves and pastries. Lisa had never seen bread so soft and white. The ones at home were dense things made with rye or barley, only softened when dunked in soup. They almost never had meat either, much less venison. Poaching was theft, and the justice the Gunnhildrs meted out was swift and merciless.
Unfortunately, Lisa had never been less hungry in her entire life. As she pushed a small morsel past her numb lips, she took the time to appraise her dining partner.
Jean Gunnhildr sat across from her, at the other head of the long table. Her movements were smooth, precise, and polite as she cut into her bloody steak. Lisa didn’t know what she was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t this.
It was true that her body bore the marks of the trauma it had been through. There was a large scar that split her right brow and puckered the flesh of her cheek. It was impossible to miss, and it looked excruciating. But Jean was tall and strong shouldered, lithely muscled and elegant. She had hair so blonde it was nearly white, and her face was smooth and finely made. Her blue eyes were nothing like Frederica’s steel, and they gave her an earnest boyishness that made her handsome.
Lisa felt her stomach roil at her upset. To her disgust, she felt a curl of attraction and arousal simmer low in her abdomen. She slammed her fork down as she fought the urge to retch.
Jean looked up at the sound, concerned.
“Is the food not to your liking? I’m sorry, I should have asked you what you preferred in advance.”
“I’m alright,” Lisa breathed through clenched teeth. “I’m just not used to this kind of food. It’s richer than what we normally have at home.” She stood so abruptly from the table that her chair clattered back.
“I’m not feeling well, may I please be excused?” Lisa tried not to let the sharp shards of her anger colour her voice. She looked down as she folded her hands demurely so she wouldn’t have to look at Jean any longer.
A scrape from Jean’s chair told her that she had risen as well.
“I-yes, of course, let me accompany you–” Jean began, tossing down her napkin.
“I will be quite fine alone, thank you, Lord Gunnhildr.” Lisa flinched at the thought of Jean insisting on escorting her. Perhaps continuing the evening and forcing Lisa to entertain her. She shivered. Her pulse quickened between her thighs, but she was sickened at the thought of a Gunnhildr touching her.
Jean looked crestfallen at her answer, but unsurprised. She recovered swiftly, and her face smoothed into a mask.
“I see.”
She moved towards the fireplace, and Lisa watched her stiffly. But Jean only pulled on a ribbon by the mantelpiece, and a tinkling sounded from outside the room. Moments later, Alberich smoothly opened the double doors and bowed low at the waist.
“Yes, my lord?”
“Will you please escort Miss Minci back to her rooms? Make sure she is comfortable for the night. It’s cold outside,” Jean said grimly. Alberich nodded in understanding, his eye crinkling in thought as it met Jean’s. Without missing a beat, he dipped his head and gestured towards the door.
“If you please, Miss Minci?”
Lisa gave a stiff-armed curtsey in Jean’s general direction and hastened out of the dining room. She glanced over her shoulder as she left. Jean’s expression was unreadable as she looked directly at Lisa, toying idly with the fabric of the tablecloth. As Alberich began to close the doors, Jean turned away and broke their gaze, her hands clenched into fists.
And that was when Lisa made the decision to escape her jailer no matter the cost. If Jean Gunnhildr had to die, then so be it.