Dark!SpainXReader ~ All That is Gold ~ Part 7

“I’m just going for a stroll out in the yard,” you muttered and unwrapped your arms around your chest, slowing opening the door.

You had managed to get out of the bed that Antonio had held you in the last few nights.  His gently touch at night, was nothing during the day light hours.  His actions let you know that he was still angry with you for running away.

But it wasn’t that. It was more his feeling for you that made him angry.  

Antonio nodded, but never looked up from his paperwork that he was working on.  “Be back in an hour – or I’ll come looking for you.”

Your feet dragged on near the rocky cliffs that over looked the land, a waterfall spilled into the water below.  Your stomach clenched with renewed terror, filing your mouth again with a bitter taste.  But beneath that familiar terror lurked emotions, emotion a woman such as you could never acknowledge.  

You repeated in your mind how he had snatched you from your home.  He forced himself on you.  Held you more than any nation before, in such a way that was more than a father and daughter, but that of someone who had the same horrible fate.  

He had done everything to you; he had caused you to loathe him – as you unequivocally loathed him at every step.  He was a selfish brute who deserved to hang for his crimes.  

He was a lonely man tormented by harrowing memories you couldn’t begin to imagine.

And the last few nights, he’d listened to you sordid history and told you, you were to be amended.  

You heard a horse approached, it was past midday and you still hadn’t been back inside as the same questions came to a head in your mind.  

Immediately, you crouched low.  Sheer exhaustion had dulled your constant dread.  Now it welled up sharp as ever making your head spin.  Awkwardly, you edge onto the cliffs.

Watching Antonio, he rode into view with Lovino in toe.  He wore his rough country clothes.  He must have come out to make sure you weren’t running away again, thou he did say an hour and you no doubt had been out here for a good few hours.  

Maybe you should run.  

Something about him chasing you seemed…right.

No, you couldn’t.  

Pray heaven all this uncomfortable soul-searching would never end!  

You weren’t going to run away, but you wanted to climb, to at least taste freedom before he clipped your wings.

Revealing your past had been a huge mistake.  You and Antonio now shared an emotional link that might prove hard to break although in time, you would break it.  

You must break it.

For a long while, you stared blankly at the cliff, trying to reawaken you enthusiasm for a life devoted to good works and independence.  But your mind filled instead with images of the Spaniard’s courageous battle against his demons and how that courage melted into sweet need when he rested in your arms.  

For God’s sake, leave my mind in peace, Antonio!

You inhaled deeply to banish your lover’s persistent ghost and your eyes sharpened on the mountainside.  If you took the chances scrambling over some steep rocks, you might find a way up.  The cliff offered nothing as friendly as a path, but perhaps you could use the jagged ledges.

You had to try. You began to climb, using your hands on the rough stones.

Freedom.

Antonio hit the ground and looked around the cliffs that gave way.  This was where he came to get away from the trials of everyday life.  This is where he had come to think of you, only you didn’t know.

“I don’t understand.” Lovino said, also dismounting his horse.  “Why in God’s name did (f/n) run away, Antonio?  Why did she try so eagerly to get away from you?”  Lovino’s honey coloured eyes studied Antonio with a sharp look.  Lovino knew why, he just wanted to hear it for himself.  

Antonio had once again gone out to find you.  But Lovino wondered if you had truly left this time or just needed to reflect.  

Unseeingly, Antonio gazed ahead, knowing he deserved every ounce of his companion’s condemnation.  “I tried to break her,” he said grimly.

Only now did he acknowledge he’d failed.  As he’d deserved to fail.  He shook himself out of his abstraction.  Self-pity was an indulgence he couldn’t afford.  With desperate eyes, he surveyed the landscape.  He didn’t know how to win you with love.  But he worried about the amends he needed to make.  The amends he was capable of making.

Lovino reached out to touch his arm.  It was an act of terrible presumption that offered a brief reassurance which, in his distress, the Spaniard noticed and appreciated.  It broke him again from the pain he had become accustomed too.

“I-I like to be alone, Lovi.”  Antonio muttered and brooded.  “Let me just find her and I’ll be back.”  

Lovino nodded and remounted his horse, leaving Antonio to himself again.  If he could ever find the words, he was at least willing to try to reform.

The brunette tangled his fingers around the horse’s mane, before he climbed back onto the steed.  Why did you have to run the days before?  

Why couldn’t he be himself – his old self?  You would have loved the cheery man that could spark a smile.  You would no doubt have taken his hand and danced with him.  Kissed him willingly and loved him without protest.

But you ran.  

He knew why. You were afraid he meant to force you into his bed again.  You both knew he couldn’t keep his hands off you, damn it to hell.  

As he followed the jagged ridge, he wished it had been otherwise.  He wished he’d been another nation, one worthy of the country he pursued.  But he was the same wretched miscreant he’d always been.  Redemption, expiation and absolution were utterly beyond his reach.

Antonio was fording a stream when he looked ahead to see you picking your way through screen on the other side. For one brilliant moment, blazing passion transfixed him, and he just stared speechlessly at you.

You were climbing with a purpose, but stopped and outstretched your arms as if to be carried away by the wind.  

You had your back to him as you threaded your way through the field of rocks.  The falling torrent muffled the sound of his approach as he spurred his horse toward you.  When you finally turned, he was close enough to see your (e/c) eyes darken in shock, and then terror.  

No doubt you thought yourself in trouble for not coming back in the time frame he’d given you.  

“No!”  You started to run, fearing the worst.  

He chased you, ignoring the dangers of the uneven surface.  The beast he rode snorted in protest at such cavalier treatment, but his loyal heart responded and he bounded forward gallantly.

No power on earth could keep Antonio from catching you now.  You were his.  He’d die before he let you go again.

“(f/n)!”  he shouted after your retreating figure.

You only tried more frantically to get away.  

“Stop!  You’ll hurt yourself!”  

You were trapped now on a jutting point with a sheer drop on either side.  

“Please,” you panted, backing away as you had done days earlier on the dock.  “I was coming back.”  

He dismounted swiftly and took a stride towards you.

“Come to me, (f/n).”

“No,” you shook your head and tousled your (h/c) hair.  You were frighteningly near the edge, and he didn’t want to startle you into any sudden movements.

“(f/n),” he said and lunged across the last distance to grab you.

You jerked away, and his hand slid uselessly on the smooth skin of your arm.  You screamed as you toppled over the edge.  

All you wanted was freedom.  Just a taste.

“Dios Mío, no!”

Was it a prayer or a curse?  Antonio didn’t know.  Your screams rang into his ears as he flung himself to his knees and crawled to the edge of the cliff.  Every second seemed to stretch into an hour.  Every falling stone echoed like a thunderclap.

“Gracias a Dios,” he whispered as he peered over the ledge.  

You clung to the precarious slope about a dozen feet down.  The cliff didn’t fall away in a sheer drop, but the stony surface was unstable and you could slide to the base of the ravine any time in a deadly tumble of rocks.

“Hold on.” He looked directly into your terrified eyes, desperate to instill what strength he could.

“Of course I’ll hold on!”  you snapped back.

This reaction was so purely you, so utterly true to the woman he’d come to know, that he almost smiled.  You fought your fear the only way you could.  With anger.  He understood the response.  But unspoken terror flattened your lush lips, and arms strained against the rocks.  His own terror coiled like a cobra in his belly.  If you let go, nothing would save you.  

He fought to keep his voice steady.  “I haven’t got a rope.  But if I throw you my coat, you can use it to climb up.”

He lifted himself up far enough to strip off his coat with trembling hands.  All the time, he held your gaze, as if he kept you on that rock face through sheer mental power alone.

“Hurry, Antonio.” This time your voice held no bravado.

“Don’t look down,” he said urgently.  “Look at me, (f/n).”  

You closed your eyes, as if gathering your will.  When you opened them again, they focused unwaveringly on him.

“Trust me.  I’ll get you out of this,” he told you.

Let it be true, oh, let it be true, his heart pleaded.

He reached out as far as he could and threw the long coat, holding tightly to one sleeve.  Even with his arm fully extended, the garment still landed a good four feet above you.  He swore under his breath and cast again.

It was no good.  The coast was too short.

“(f/n), can you hold on?  If I climb down to you, the whole hill will likely go flying.”  A small rock fall near your left hand confirmed what he said.

“I can’t be sure.”  

Your reply was a thread of sound.  He saw in your face that you didn’t expect to survive.

If sheer determination alone could get you out of his, by God and all His angels, he’d get you out of it.  He studied the uneven rocks between the coat and you.  “Wait.”

He surged to his feet and ran back to the horse.

“Steady, boy,” he whispered.

The thoroughbred sensed his desperation and sidled nervously under his hands as he removed the saddle.  With deftness born of necessity, Antonio dismantled the saddle and swiftly buckled the straps together.

The task still took to long, with every second’s delay the possibility of you tumbling to your death increased.

“(f/n)?” he called.

Were you still there?

“Yes. Hurry!” He could tell you were near the end of your endurance. Few would have contained their panic so long.

With a yank, he tested the makeshift length.  He desperately hoped it would reach you.  And that his improvised rope held.  And that you’d have the strength to grasp it when he threw it.

Desperate hope was all he held.  How could he survive if he didn’t bring you safely through this?

He couldn’t dwell on failure.  He would rescue you.

Breathing hoarsely, he dashed back to the edge and collapsed to his knees.  God be praised you were still there.

But you were tiring.  Your hands, had clenched into claws, and even at that distance, he heard your rapid and uneven breathing.

You looked up when he appeared above you and managed a shaky smile.  Not for the first time, your courage humbled him.  

“Did you have a sudden inspiration?” You still strove to sound composed, but the words emerged on a gasp.

“I hope so,” he said fervently.  “Hell, I hope so.”

Fumbling with the weight and length, he swung the awkward combination of leathers down.  It landed just above you.

The slap of leather on the rough surface created another rock fall.  Antonio’s belly knotted in dread as he realized the hillside was about to subside.

“Reach for it, (f/n),” he begged.  Then an entreaty that came from the depths of his being.  “Reach, my love.”  

Live, my love.

Your (e/c) eyes, glittered with fear and despair, widened at the unprecedented endearment.  Then he saw you realize that to grab the straps, you had to let go of the hollow in the rock face that supported you.

“Come on, (f/n).   You’ll be all right.”  He hoped to the bottom of his worthless soul that he was right.  Asking you to chance your safety was the greatest risk he’d ever taken in his misbegotten life.  “It isn’t far.”  

Your face, streaked with dirt and tearstains, turned up to him, and he saw your swallow.  Your expression was rigid with fear. “I can’t do it.”

“Yes, you can.”  He tried to tell you with his eyes how he believed in you.

You bit your lips and nodded.  He held his breath as you let go and stretched upward.  The shift in weight sent rivers of stones slithering past you.

“Only a little further,” he urged.  His knuckles whitened on the leathers as he prepared to take your weight.  

You grunted with effort and pushed yourself up.  With a sharp cry he felt to his boots, as you lurched up and snatched the line.

Not a moment too soon.  The cliff around you collapsed in a deafening roar.  

“Antonio!”  you screamed while the world around you turned to chaos.  “Antonio, help me!”  

“I’ve got you.”  He leaned back as your full weight dragged painfully on his arms.  For a long moment, you swung free.  Then you fell back against the rock face.

“Hold on.  I’ll pull you,” he said after the worst of his paralyzing horror had passed.  His muscles strained to support you and the leather creaked in protest.

Slowly, unsteadily but, thank God, surely, he hauled you upward inch by inch.  A few times, ledges or hollows disintegrated under the weight of a hand or a foot, but having brought you so far, he wasn’t letting you fall now.

Finally, he hauled you over the rim.  His arms and legs felt like they were on fire.  He was too damned relieved to care.

With a groan, he crumpled to his knees and wrenched you into his arms.  

“I didn’t mean to make you fall.”  He gritted out and pressed your face into his chest with hands that shook uncontrollably.  “I never meant to break you, (f/n).”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Dear heaven, he smelled good.  Warm.  Alive. The special scent of Antonio.  Sobbing, you burned your nose in his filthy shirt and closed your eyes while reality slowly returned.

You weren’t lying crushed and broken at the foot of the ravine.  Instead, you were with Antonio.

You tired to regret the failure of your feelings, but all you felt was overwhelming gratitude that you hadn’t plunged to your death.  Overwhelming gratitude and shaming joy to be with him.  You thought never to see him again.  

Curling your arms around him, you burrowed into his embrace. Your heart pounded with the remnants of terror, and you couldn’t damn your weak tears.

You cried in reaction to your ordeal.  You also cried because you’d fought so hard and long against this surrender.  Your hands clenched in the linen covering his powerful back.

In spite of all your efforts, every trail you’d endured, you were still Antonio’s captive.  As the heat of his shuddering body surrounded you, you realized you’d never be free.  Even if he let you go, you were his forever.

“Shh, my love.  Shh. It’s all right,” he murmured.  He stroked your tangled hair, soothing your convulsive sobs.  “You’re safe now.  I’ve got you.  Nothing’s going to hurt you.”

Except you, you whispered silently.

But even that insight couldn’t make you pull away.

You’d expected him to be furious with you, as he’d been furious at the docks.  Instead, he just offered endless comfort.  You told yourself his fleeting kindness meant nothing, but you couldn’t stop your aching heart opening to his every word.  

You didn’t know how long you stayed like that, kneeling on the stony around like survivors of a shipwreck.    With your face pressed against his chest, you listened as gradually his heartbeat slowed.

He’d been so calm, so sure when he’d hauled you up that hillside. But now you knew he’d been terrified too.

“Antonio?”  Lovino’s question sliced into their silent communion, a communion full of gratitude and relief and emotion you’d never dare to name.

With surprise, you raised your head.  You’d been so lost in Antonio’s embrace that you hadn’t even heard the horse approach.

The younger man had dismounted and stood several feet away, watching them.  You couldn’t mistake the relief in his young face.  

“Are you okay?”  Lovino asked.

“Yes, Lovino.”

You waited for Antonio to say more, perhaps boast of his heroics.  Only his valor, strength and cleverness had saved you.

But he merely said, “I’ll bring (f/n) home.”

Home, yes.  The isolated house did feel like home now.  How easy everything became once you ceased to struggle against the inevitable.  You could float calmly and joyfully to your doom.

Gently, Antonio untangled himself from you and stood up.  It was just another sign of you ruin that you missed his warmth the moment he left you.  The world seemed a cold place when you didn’t rest in his arms.

He spoke softly from his great height down to where you knelt before him like a supplicant. “I know you’re frightened, (f/n).  But if I take you up before me, I promise no harm will come to you.”

Oh, only if were true, you thought painfully.  He thought you ran, and you would have to face the worst.  

You accepted his hand and rose stiffly to your feet.  Your body hurt in a thousand places, and you couldn’t suppress a deep groan.  You were battered and bruised and still humiliatingly teary.

Your silent docility must have worried him, because he looked at you searchingly.  “Are you injured?”

“No.”

You were shaking and felt alarmingly light-headed.  You began to sway.

Stupid, really.  You had more self-control than this.  But you couldn’t stop the way everything around you approached then receded, in bleary waves.

From far away you heard Antonio swear softly and savagely.  Then he snatched you up in his arms and carried you across to the huge thoroughbred he rode.  You were too distraught even to protest.  In a daze, you felt Antonio pass you across to Lovino.  

“We’ll have you home soon.”  Lovino spoke.

~*~*~~********~**~~*~*~*~*~**~~*~*~*


The thought that Antonio had held you like a lover you still felt an undying contempt for the Spaniard.  You still felt the need to push him to limits.  Was it so he would prove his love?

Still, Antonio, ruthless, heartless knave that he was, couldn’t quite summon the courage to confess why he skulked in this remote corner of the barn outside now with one the most beautiful women he’d ever met was inside.

“What are you-a mopping about?”  Lovino asked, dropping down on a hay bale.  

“Nothing.  Just look after the horses,” he snapped, but redrew himself.  He was tired of the censure that underlay Lovino’s manner.  He knew that Lovino had figured out what was going on.  And in spite of all the camaraderie, Antonio worried.  

Perhaps because of the camaraderie.

“Go to her,” Lovino finally said.  

If he went to you now, it would be as a slave to your love.  That meant you won.  

He was too tired of battling inconvenient scruples over his captive.  Everything had seemed so clear when he’d taken you.  It was to get back at Arthur.  It was to prove to himself that he could still be a heartless conquistador.  

You’d betrayed him by running away.  Even if it had been his doing that made you do so.  You deserved to be punished.  But you’d already been so many times, by some many different hands.

And by God, he’d enjoyed punishing you.

But it burned his like the middle of a flame.

And now he had risked his life to save yours.  

That was before he’d witnessed your uncomplaining bravery on the long and difficult journey when you’d been so scared of your fate.  Of pain. Of torment.  Of him.

That was before he’d seen your viability when exhaustion had forced you to the edge of your endurance.  When you’d still summoned the strength to defy him.  Even while you must have known that defiance was useless.

Now he was going to take you.  He was going to prove that he was still in charge.  To prove you would never have the upper hand.

He wasn’t worried about your feelings.

The outcome had never been in doubt.  What he hadn’t expected when he’d plotted his revenge was that his body and his heart would be so divided about his intentions.

Damn you.  

“Antonio,” Lovnio sighed and grabbed the lantern off the wall.  “It is late.  Go to bed.”

~*~*~*~*~**~*~**~*~*~*~*~*~*~**~*~*~*~*

You propped yourself up against the pillows in the large bed where you’d fought so many skirmishes with the Nation of Spain.  A fire blazed in the grate, bashing any chill from the room.

Now, and with a heart lighter than before you’d ever expected, you admitted defeat.  When Antonio came to you tonight, he wouldn’t find you defiant or unwilling.  He could use you and you would submit.  
 
Antonio found you again, although he was surprised that of all sanctuaries, you’d chosen his room.  But then, you probably hadn’t really cared.  

The Spaniard slammed open the door to your little room with such force that the curtains billowed and the fire flickered wildly in the grate.  It was late and you lay awake and afraid in the large bed.  You knew there was no escape.

There had never been any escape.  

How right you’d been to feel wary of Antonio.  You’d been tragically wrong thinking you could manage him.  Now you faced the consequences of that calamitous error of judgment.

Damn him.

You poured your heart out to him.

Still, you refused to shrink before him like a cringing coward.  You raised yourself on your elbows against the pillows and tilted your chin.

“Good evening, Master,” you said coolly.

Never let him guess how hard you fought to keep your voice steady, you prayed silently.  Your heart thundered with fear, and only the outer limits of your will kept you from raising the sheet against your chest like a shield.

You knew now Antonio had time to let the things you done and said sink in.  How he must have thought that you tried to run again.  

He stared across the room at you as if he hated you.  You suspected he did.

You couldn’t entirely read his mood.  

But the words of Antonio haunted your soul.  He had earned a respect for you and it seemed, you had earned some too.   Not just for yourself, but him.

As much as you wanted to say you hated him, you couldn’t muster the words to come forth.  

You wanted his touch again.  His kind and caring touch.

In Antonio’s mind, he was torn between bitter and uncaring revenge to something he’d never felt before for another.  He fought with himself in the dark recesses of his heart to be cruel and unrelenting to you.  

He wanted to take you and force you into submission.  But if he did that, you would be what drove him mad with passion.  

Leaning back in the bed you watched him.

“What?”  You asked, looking from the roaring fire.  “Why don’t you say something?”

He couldn’t do it.  

“Good night, (f/n).”  He turned with his back to you.

What was happening?  You’d had braced yourself for a day now to meet his rage.  Insults, vengeance, and disdain, but the indifference bewildered you.

In your head, you’d played out many scenes of what might happen.  None had included having to coax him into bed with you.   Good Lord, hadn’t you spent the last few weeks battling without surcease to keep him out of it?  

Good night?

“Aren’t you…aren’t you going to stay?”  you asked awkwardly.   It sounded more like a child asking for candy before supper, already knowing the answer.

Shock silenced you for the few seconds it took him to acknowledge your question.  

He shook his head, although at least the didn’t leave.  “No.”

No?

You must be going mad!  Did your insatiable lover deny you?  Did your Master refuse you?

On trembling legs, you went after him and put your hand on his arm.  You had a moment to register the tension in his muscles before he shook himself free.

“Master?” you asked softly.

“Madam, I am weary,” he said in a cold voice.  Still he didn’t look at you.

Unbelievably, he rejected you.  And it hurt.  How it hurt.  

Had you hurt him like this each time you’d denied him?  No, of course not. He wasn’t vulnerable to you the way you were vulnerable to him.  How could he be?  You’d merely been a challenge to his pride.  Now you weren’t even that much.  

“I see,” you said slowly, fighting desperately to conceal your pain.  “I ask your pardon for detaining you, then.”

“Dios Mío!  Give me strength!”  he bit out under his breath.  “You’ll be the death of me woman!”

He swept you into his arms and strode back to the bed. You had a moment to register his heat and scent before tossed you into the bed.  

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said without looking at you.  He tucked you safely under the covers and returned to the door.

“I don’t understand,” you whispered, pushing yourself up into a sitting position.

“Devil take this,” he muttered under his breath as he whirled around to face you.  “What the hell do you want, (f/n)?”

You didn’t know.  You hadn’t thought that what you wanted mattered to him. It certainly hadn’t up until now.  

“I imagined you’d be angry with me for leaving you,” you said uncertainly.  “But you haven’t mentioned it.”

“I know why you ran away,” he said flatly.  “It was my fault, not yours.  Hell, this entire damn mess is my fault.”

None of this made sense.  “So you’re not angry with me?”

“No, I’m not angry with you.  We’ll talk in the morning.”

You didn’t want to talk in the morning.  You didn’t want to talk at all.

Dredging up the right words to seduce your previously demanding paramour shouldn’t have been so difficult.  Hadn’t you shared your body with this man?  

But your voice cracked as you spoke.  “Master, it’s all right if you…I mean, I…I won’t object if your want to-“

“No.” He spoke firmly, as though argument would never change his mind.  

The pillar supporting the structure of your life collapsed into rubble with a mighty crash.  Ruins lay all around you.

Of course, you’d known this day would come.  No country would make a lifetime commitment to another.  

Yesterday, he’d wanted you.  Today, he didn’t.

The transition was too abrupt.  You hadn’t prepared yourself to meet your dismissal with pride-salving coolness or self-possession.

“Is it over, then?”  you asked starkly.

A muscle jerked in his cheek.  He sounded so certain when he repudiated you, but that tiny, betraying movement told a different story.  “Isn’t that what you’d prefer?”

A fraught question you had no intention of answering.  “So you no longer desire me?”

His short laugh was bitter.  “Madam, there hasn’t been a second since the day you came here when I haven’t desired you.”

You tried to interpret his expression.  The only word that came to mind was hunted.

Continuing this inquisition took every shred of your courage.  With your bandaged hands, you clutched at the blanket he’d pulled over you with such care.

“But that’s changed?”

A spasm of strong emotion crossed his face and made him look almost savage.  “For God’s sake, woman, of course that hasn’t changed.”

“But I’m inviting your into my…your bed,” you said helplessly, wondering why you weren’t dancing around the room in relief.

He bowed in your direction, momentarily reminding you of the formality that had prevailed between you and him a month earlier.  “I thank you for the offer, but regretfully, I must decline.”

You spoke after him as he started to go.  “Are you releasing me, then, Master?”

The hand he’d placed on the door bunched into a fist against the wooden frame.  “I don’t know.  I should.  I will.”

You watched his shoulders tense as if he braced himself to meet a powerful for.  “I will.  Just not tonight.”

You frowned at the stiff line of his back.

More was happening here than the careless discarding of a nation who had outstayed their welcome.  You could smell the lust on him.  That at least hadn’t changed.

So why didn’t he turn you without delay in the bed that had been their battleground?

“Please tell me what this is about, Master,” you said calmly.

“(f/n)!”  He whipped around to confront you again, and you saw you’d finally awakened the anger you’d feared earlier.  “My name is Antonio, if you must.  You’ve used it before without hesitation!  Stop Mastering me into the damn ground!  You don’t need to hammer the message home!”  

“What message?”  you asked, confused but strangely undaunted.  

His mouth flattened in self-derision.  “I want you.  You don’t want me.  But you’ve accepted that escape is impossible so you’re making the best of a bad situation by humoring me.  I can’t blame you.  It’s the sensible choice.  Perhaps if I were a sensible man, it would be enough for me too.”  

“You think I’m being pragmatic?”  

“Aren’t you?”  His remarkable eyes were haunted as they settled on you.

At last you thought you understood.  “You want revenge. I’m not enough for you,” you said sadly.

He inhaled deeply, audibly.  “Yes, I want revenge.  But I also want you.  Maybe they’re both the same, don’t you long for revenge?”

Suddenly under attack from an unexpected quarter, you flinched back against the pillows.  “No,” you said sharply.

His eyes burned into yours.  “Yes, you do.  You want to blame someone for everything you’ve done, everything that happened to you.  You, much like me, want the taste of revenge against those that have wronged you.  The Ottoman that used you like a whore.  You might say that you care for the Netherlands, but you hate him for taking your innocents away.  And Arthur…your father…you want him to pay for not saving you.”  

He took another deep breath, and his gaze didn’t waver from yours.  “Well, here’s a revelation, (f/n).  You must learn to live what you’ve become.  You must learn that you’ve got innate sensuality and sense of adventure.  You’re sweet and virtuous and you go after the things you want.  You might act like a pawn, but you’re so much more.”  He turned once again.  “Until you recognize that, you’re no use to me or to yourself.”

“What do you want?”  you asked unsteadily to his back.  His accusations charred a path through your mind.  Was he right?  And if he was right, what could you do about it?

He didn’t look at your as he spoke very slowly and clearly.  “I want you to want me that way I want you.  I want you to come to me and tell me that.  Then I want you to show me it’s true.”

You’d been prepared to surrender so much tonight, but never had you thought you risked this final bastion of your soul.  He was too demand, too greedy.

“You ask too much,” you whispered shocked.

“Yes, I do,” he said, and the sorrow in his voice lingered in your ears as he left you alone in the fire lit room.