Her mission was here, and she had to do it, no matter how much she hated it. It wouldn't change the fact that this was her life now, and the course of fate cannot be damned nor revoked.
It can only be endured.
Wherever that motivation came from, Lucrezia held on to it firmly. Princess Anastasia Bathory is the punishment to her kind, but to her, she was the weapon to save her mother.
With a bow—a sign of resignation—the auburn-haired turned, ready to leave.
"Wait," Lucrezia called meekly, though her voice was raspy as a result of her earlier silence, and she slowly walked towards her.
The auburn-haired woman seemed tensed as her shoulder stiffened when Lucrezia approached her, standing just a few inches away. "What's your name?"
The girl seemed to be expecting something worse but was rather shocked at the mistress's question. With a hesitancy, "I-Irene," She stammered at last, not daring to look up.
Lucrezia felt pity when her eyes fell on her bruised neck—despite the attire that didn't quite conceal the—reminding her of her own scars.
With a soft gaze, "Look at me, Irene," her voice was calm and urging, with perhaps a string of empathy, and the girl straightened at her words.
Her eyes widened when she said, "I wouldn't dare-"
"I insist," She cut her off before she finished, unknowingly dragging the girl between duty and command.
The auburn-haired struggled to raise them. It took almost five seconds before those round, fearful eyes met hers, and a ghost of a smile tugged at her lips.
And she quickly lowered them. "Forgive me, Milady-"
Lucrezia was about to reprimand her unnecessary apology and the frightful look in those eyes like she was a god, but ended up nodding instead.
"It's okay. You can leave. I'll be… downstairs shortly," and Irene bowed, darting out of the room in quick steps.
Lucrezia sighed, drawing her attention away from the door to the small trunk before her. Edhira stared at her in confusion, and obviously another look, but she ignored it. Same with the others.
Her gaze lingered on the trunk long after the door closed. The foreign faint scent of pine and iron clung to it in the wrong way.
Whatever waited beyond, Lucrezia already knew it would not be mercy. She had that strong feeling of something bad brewing.
Outside, the neigh of a horse broke the silence—a low, guttural sound that made her chest tighten. It was time.
And though she could not see him, she felt the weight of his presence, as though the monster himself had called her name. The monster she was betrothed to.
With a less confident gaze, she approached the trunk, carefully unlocking the latch until it came undone with a soft click.
Inside, lay a plain red thin fabric dress designed in a very odd fashion. Drawing her brows together in awe and confusion, she pulled it out of the box, skimming the apparel. It was a see-through, carrying several slit at the skirt, and an open V-neck line baring the half of her chest and stomach completely.
Her lips parted in disbelief and… shock at the outlining of the dress. The fashion which appeared more indecent than flawless, and additionally simpler than ordinary.
H-How was she going to wear… that?
"Let me help you, Milady," Edhria's voice came through, and Lucrezia, still in stupefaction handed her the dress.
Edhira carefully aligned it properly; and at that moment Lucrezia realized she'd been gaping at the front which was supposed to be the back. "There," she said. "I'll get this undone,"
It only took a few minutes until she was done, staring at her reflection. The way the fabric clung deep into her skin from the bodice, and the skirt exposed her thighs through the slits. With her back exposed, Lucrezia could feel the bite of the morning's air and the warmth of her cloak as she draped it across her shoulders. And now with the eye mask, another item found in the small trunk, it complemented the dress.
As soon as she stepped beyond the threshold of the manor, the early sunlight spilled across her form like a golden veil. Servants who passed her lowered their heads quickly, as none dared to meet her gaze.
Her feet trembled as the scene from last night flashed before her. Everything felt too hard to take in, and returning down this lane only seemed to make it even more unbearable.
The manor felt quieter than usual, as if it, too, sensed the shift in her. The morning's air kissed her skin, lifting the hem of her cloak, and for a heartbeat, the world felt oddly still yet coerced by the presence a few distances away.
Something twisted in her stomach. Lucrezia did not know if it was fear or rage anymore. Perhaps both.
Clad in his customary black armor, the polished metal of his breastplate catching the shards of sunlight as he stood beside an obsidian stallion. Last night's incident flashed back into her mind and her eyes burned with tears.
Taking in a deep breath, she finally moved.
As usual, his long hair was left to rest on his shoulder, slightly dancing to the pressure of the breeze as his gauntleted hand moved slowly through a beast's mane.
It was a black stallion, and now with a closer look, Lucrezia realized it appeared somehow in contrast to his nature; cold, unmerciful, yet intimidating.
His actions almost surprised her with a rare softness from a creature carved in glaze and silence… but it didn't. Lucrezia didn't even know what to feel except for this burn in her chest and the guilt coating it.
Although his expression always remained unreadable, those eyes as cold and still as frozen steel, remained fixed on the horse, as nothing else mattered. Beside him waited a lone carriage cloaked in sleek black lacquer, etched with golden accents that curled like ancient runes across its surface and wheels reinforced with darkened iron.
The contrast was stark, a color blend which had meaning; black for power, gold for pride, that made the exterior gleam with quiet menace, a kind that spoke of nobility, yes—but also of distance and danger.
A realization slipped through her: that he would not be riding with her, and a barely audible sigh escaped her lips. It would be far easier to endure this marriage as a matter of name and duty, not company. The space to her advantage, most especially, as a room for devising and planning.
The weather was sunny yet she wore a heavy cloak trapping heat into her body. It was mild and a bit uncomfortable however, Lucrezia was better off enduring the warmth than walking half-exposed. She only wondered where they were heading for such a demand for a heavier cloak.
She descended the steps in measured and composed footfall and approached the waiting carriage. The footman—hooded and thin—bowed and opened the carriage, and without any glance at the creature, Lucrezia stepped inside.
The interior was richly austere as expected, not a single ornamentation of warmth and welcome as she settled into the far seat. With her hands folded in her lap, spine straight despite the fatigue that crept into her bones, the door shut behind her.
Last night was no good night's rest for her. She stayed awake till past five this morning, before Edhira reminded her about the delirious duty of the day, leaving her morning sick with a bit of fever and headache.
Lucrezia waited and waited but the carriage didn't move. She was tempted to peek from the curtains outside, but refrained, and clutched her pendant instead.
Finally, the door opened again and she turned, but froze when someone familiar stepped inside.
The air suddenly shifted with him as he entered, ducking slightly under the frame. His presence seemed to fill the carriage and consolidate the ambiance wholly, sucking life from the living and promises of what was yet untold.
He said nothing and simply sat across from her, ignorant of the half-conscious figure as his eyes cast out the window. His mask sat in that familiar line of what was assumed as quiet restraint and composed enough to flicker any reaction.
Lucrezia stared, stunned and her voice caught behind her lips. H-He was going to ride... here? With her?
As if to answer those unspoken questions, the door closed once more and the carriage jolted into motion, dragging horror into her blood, and the heat of sheer tremor criss-crossed her spine.