[center][h1][color=D0B4EC]Charlotte[/color] & [color=lightsteelblue]Cassius[/color][/h1] [h3]Part 1 [/h3][/center] [color=lightsteelblue]Time:[/color]Evening [color=D0B4EC]Location:[/color] Hallway, Castle [right][sub]Mention:[@FunnyGuy] Lorenzo [@JJ Doe] Fritz[/sub][/right] [hr][color=lightgray] Charlotte’s gaze lingered upon the door, her chest rising and falling steadily as Fritz had guided her. She had no dispute with his insights, nor his gentle admonishments, for he spoke only the truth: Lorenzo often voiced whatever passed through his mind, heedless of the consequences his words might create. But Charlotte also knew that his love for her was indisputable. They were, after all, the only family left to one another. Her expression softened, yet a sadness also crept in as her lashes lowered slowly. Her gaze lowered onto the sight of her hand, now joined with another. A hand rough and larger than her own now held hers; olive-skinned, calloused, bearing marks of wear far greater than one of his status should possess. Absentmindedly, she tightened her grasp ever so slightly, the pads of her fingers brushing the worn texture as if to memorize every ridge and scar. After a reflective pause, she lifted her gaze towards Fritz, her sapphire eyes glistening gently with unshed tears. [color=D0B4EC] "I am loved," [/color] she whispered with quiet conviction, [color=D0B4EC]”I do believe that…Even when it's difficult. Perhaps most of all when it's difficult."[/color] Yet, it had never truly been love she had doubted. What Charlotte feared was the prospect of losing Lorenzo’s respect. Even in her teen years, whispers had echoed throughout the kingdom—rumors that shaped the respect of those who had yet even to meet her. Still, the thought of disappointing her father was almost unbearable. Now that Fritz had helped her reclaim her senses, Charlotte understood with a heavy clarity that this, too, was something she must willingly let go. In the end, the only thing that truly mattered was that Lorenzo emerged safely from whatever storm loomed around them. She knew deep in her heart that something was very wrong, and she had known that from the very first night of that ball. Quietly, a pact had been made with herself, one barely acknowledged yet deeply etched upon her soul: her own life was no longer of consequence. And if such was true: love, respect, a future, a marriage, her fear, her pain, her happiness… None of it mattered. None of it ever could. No matter how fiercely the little girl she sometimes glimpsed in the mirror begged otherwise. [color=D0B4EC]"Thank you for reminding me. It’s easy to lose sight amidst confusion and doubt… [/color] [color=lightsteelblue]“I’ve dealt with curses before... not quite like this, maybe... but enough to know that you’re right. For now, all she can do is endure.”[/color] She looked at Cassius and nodded firmly, blinking away tears, [color=D0B4EC]" If this affliction is indeed a curse, a hex, or some cruel twist of fate… then I shall endure it without complaint. “[/color] she murmured, voice steadier now, though thin with exhaustion. [color=D0B4EC]"Come what may, I shall persevere."[/color]There was no resistance as he gently led her away, her hand still curled in his. Fritz remained behind, listening at the door. Her steps were slow, each one weighed with more than just fatigue. Her mind swirled with thoughts she dared not speak aloud, her heart heavy with the ghosts of what could never be, and her body trembling with a dread she could not name. Cassius brought her into a small servant’s nook and only then did he speak, his voice drawing her slowly back to the present. [color=lightsteelblue]“You alright?”[/color] Her lips parted, the instinctual lie already forming. But this time, the words caught on her tongue. She let them die there and, instead, she fell silent and let him speak. [color=lightsteelblue]“No one gets to define you. Not a prince... Not a count... Not a prick like Alexander Deacon... Not your father... Not me… Only you get to do that.”[/color] His words cascaded into her heart, gentle in tone and forceful in truth. Her eyes widened ever so slightly as the weight of his words settled deep within her chest. Charlotte felt the truth of it tugging at something hidden, something fragile and neglected. But who was she, truly? The Duke’s daughter. Vermillion’s Darling. The [i]Whore[/i] of Veirmont. A witch. An orphan. Had fate already bound her path, sealed her story with ink she hadn’t wanted? Was she merely an instrument for her own end—a pawn in a cruel game she barely understood? Or did she yearn for more? [color=lightsteelblue]“You hear me, Lottie?”[/color] She did. But the only answer she could summon was a shaky, quiet exhale. [color=lightsteelblue]“You are not weak.”[/color] He took another step closer. [color=lightsteelblue]“You are not shameful.”[/color] His hand found hers again, thumb brushing gently across her knuckles. [color=lightsteelblue]“And you are not alone.”[/color] She assumed he could not possibly fathom just how alone she had been. How deeply isolation had burrowed into her bones, carved itself into the spaces between her breaths, and echoed in the silence of empty rooms. Before she could stop herself, Charlotte's fingers clutched his with quiet desperation. [color=lightsteelblue]“Tell me what you need, and I’ll make it happen. Anything.”[/color] Perhaps it was that he meant it. Or perhaps it was simply that he had said it at all. Her hand slipped from his. Then in the same heartbeat, she reached upward with both hands, her fingers gripping his collar. She pulled herself close, pressing her body against his chest. The strong rhythm of his heart echoed her own longing. And then she kissed him deeply and passionately. This time, she never pulled away.[/color]