Enslaved by My Forgotten Wife

After flying for a few days, we finally descend from the clouds, the massive airship gliding gracefully towards a sprawling landscape of emerald hills and crystal-clear lakes. Veilaris unfolds beneath us, a tapestry of vibrant greens and shimmering blues that takes my breath away.

As we touch down on a vast landing pad of polished stone, I’m struck by the sheer scale of everything around us. The estate that Vallenora calls home is a massive castle. Towering spires of gleaming white marble stretch towards the sky, their peaks wreathed in wisps of cloud. Intricate gardens filled with flowers I’ve never seen before surround the main structure, a riot of colors and scents that overwhelm the senses.

Vallenora leads me through corridors of breathtaking opulence. Tapestries depicting epic battles and mythical beasts line the walls, while chandeliers of what appear to be living, glowing crystals cast a warm, ethereal light over everything.

After what feels like hours of winding our way through this labyrinthine palace, we finally reach what Vallenora declares to be “our chambers.” The room itself is larger than any apartment I’ve ever lived in, with a ceiling so high that it almost makes me anxious.

‘It’s like looking up in a Homedepot.’

A bed that could comfortably sleep a dozen people dominates one end of the room, draped in silks so fine they seem to float on the air. Floor-to-ceiling windows offer a panoramic view of the estate grounds and the lush wilderness beyond.

Vallenora kisses me deeply, her lips tasting of something sweet and exotic that I can’t quite place. “I have matters of state to attend to, my love,” she purrs, her crimson eyes glowing with affection. “But I leave you in capable hands. I’ll return to you soon.”

With a flourish of her hand and a whispered word, Vallenora vanishes in a shower of purple sparks, leaving me alone in this cavernous space. Well, not entirely alone.

Raven materializes from the shadows near one of the ornate pillars, and lounging on a chair near the windows is Lilith Nocturna, her purple eyes regarding me with a mixture of curiosity and disdain.

“Well,” Lilith drawls, stretching lazily like a cat waking from a nap, “it seems I’ve been relegated to babysitting duty.” Her voice drips with sarcasm and a hint of annoyance.

Raven emerges fully from the shadows, his dark attire a stark contrast to the opulent surroundings. His eyes narrowed at Lilith’s words, and a muscle in his jaw twitched with barely contained irritation.

“Do not let the Quee—” Raven begins, then catches himself, his eyes darting around the room as if expecting Vallenora to materialize at any moment. He clears his throat and continues in a lower voice, “Do not let the Duchess hear you say such words. She’ll kill you on the spot.”

Lilith’s purple eyes flash with amusement, a sardonic smile playing at the corners of her mouth. She lets out a derisive snort, her gaze never leaving Raven’s face. “Good advice,” she drawls, her voice dripping with mockery, “from a traitor.”

The words hang in the air, heavy with unspoken history and simmering resentment. I find myself caught in the crossfire of their intense stares, feeling like a spectator at a particularly vicious tennis match.

“Woah, woah,” I interject, holding up my hands in a placating gesture. “Lot to unpack here.” I turn to Lilith, curiosity getting the better of me. “You don’t like me?”

I can’t help but smile, oddly unconcerned by the whole ordeal. After witnessing dragons being obliterated and a man beheaded for simply interrupting a private moment, this tension seems almost quaint by comparison.

Lilith rolls her eyes so hard I’m half-afraid they might get stuck that way. Her lithe form seems to radiate disdain as she shifts in her chair, the movement as fluid and graceful as a predator preparing to strike.

“You’re a nuisance,” she states flatly, her tone suggesting she’s explaining something painfully obvious to a particularly dim child. “Your very presence here disrupts the delicate balance we’ve maintained for centuries.”

I repeat her words, confusion evident in my voice. “Maintained for centuries? You mean the Darkmoon family?”

Raven’s lips curl into a knowing smirk, his eyes gleaming with barely contained amusement as he turns to watch Lilith’s reaction. The tension in the room seems to thicken, the air heavy with unspoken secrets and simmering resentment.

Lilith’s purple eyes narrow dangerously, flashing with a mixture of annoyance and something deeper, more primal. She lets out a long, exasperated sigh that seems to carry the weight of countless years. “Fuck off,” she spits, her voice dripping with venom.

I can’t help but push further, curiosity getting the better of me despite the obvious danger. “Did we get along before this?” I ask, gesturing vaguely at myself, referencing my slave collar, causing my memory loss.

Lilith’s reaction is instantaneous and visceral. Her lips pull back in a snarl. When she speaks, her words come out in a low growl forced through gritted teeth. “No.”

The single syllable hangs in the air, charged with an intensity that makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. But I’m not done yet. A thought occurs to me.

‘Am I not the equivalent of royalty here?’

“Is it okay to treat a duke like this?” I ask, genuinely curious about the social dynamics at play in this strange new world.

Lilith’s response is as swift as it is unexpected. A harsh, bitter laugh erupts from her throat, the sound echoing off the high ceilings of the opulent chamber. “HA!” she exclaims, her eyes wide with a mix of disbelief and dark amusement. “As if you’re a duke.”

Her words hit me like a physical blow, sending my mind reeling. I turn to Raven, confusion etched across my features. “Am I not a duke?” I ask, my voice small and uncertain.

Raven’s eyes widen, a flicker of panic crossing his face before he schools his expression back to careful neutrality. He opens his mouth to speak, then closes it again, seeming to struggle with how to respond.

The silence stretches between us, thick with tension. I can almost see the gears turning in Raven’s mind as he searches for the right words.

Suddenly, Lilith’s brow furrows, her purple eyes narrowing as she studies me with renewed interest. “Wait,” she says slowly, her voice laced with dawning realization, “fuck, is he actually the duke? Where would that even put him in the hierarchy here.”

The uncertainty in her tone is palpable, a stark contrast to her earlier disdain. She looks to Raven, her expression a mix of confusion and growing alarm.

Raven blinks, seemingly lost for words. His gaze darts between Lilith and me, his usual composure cracking under the weight of the moment. He takes a deep breath, his shoulders rising and falling as he visibly gathers his thoughts.

Finally, he turns to me. “What you are,” Raven begins, his voice low and measured, “is more than just a title. You are the Duchess’s husband.”

His words hang in the air, beautifully phrased yet strangely empty of real meaning. I feel my brow furrow as I process his response, the non-answer only serving to deepen my confusion.

“Do you not know either?” I ask, unable to keep the frustration from creeping into my voice.

Raven’s gaze shifts to Lilith, his eyes narrowing in an annoyed stare. It’s as if he’s silently prodding her for an answer, pushing the responsibility onto her with that simple look.

Lilith, for her part, seems to have lost all desire to speak. Her earlier bravado has evaporated, replaced by a wary silence. She sits perfectly still in her chair, her purple eyes darting between Raven and me like a cornered animal searching for escape.

Through the awkward silence, Raven clears his throat, his eyes softening as he turns to me. “Perhaps you’d like something to eat or drink?” he offers his deep voice, a welcome break in the tension. “The kitchens here are stocked with delicacies from across the realm…”

I perk up at the suggestion. “Oh, that sounds great,” I say, tapping my chin thoughtfully. “Do you have any soda in the castle?”

As soon as the words leave my mouth, I see Raven’s eyes glaze over, a look of exasperated familiarity washing over his features. It’s as if I’ve just uttered a phrase he’s heard a thousand times before, each repetition wearing away at his patience like water on stone.

“This shit again,” he mutters under his breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. His voice rises as he addresses me directly, a hint of frustration coloring his words. “There is no such thing as soda, Saber. Not here, not anywhere.”

I can’t help but smile, sensing that this is clearly a point of contention I’ve brought up before. The fact that even without my memories, I’ve managed to stumble upon this particular annoyance feels like a huge victory for our future friendship.

‘We are so fucking back, Raven, even if I don’t know where back is.’

“Come on, Raven,” I say, my grin widening. “Objectively, I know soda exists. It’s not some figment of my imagination.”

Raven’s eye twitches almost imperceptibly, and I can practically see him counting to ten in his head. “Saber,” he begins, his voice strained with forced patience, “I’ve explained this to you countless times. Whatever this ‘soda’ is, it simply doesn’t exist in our realm. We have nectars, juices, and ales of every variety, but nothing that matches your description of this Root Beer.” He speaks the last words as if they are completely foreign.

‘Root Beer? My favorite soda? Interesting.’

I look at Raven, my grin widening to Cheshire cat proportions. “Sounds like you’re hiding root beer from me,” I say, my voice dripping with playful accusation.

Lilith looks utterly lost, her purple eyes darting between Raven and me like she’s watching some bizarre, incomprehensible sport.

Raven, on the other hand, looks so frustrated with me that I half expect him to tell me to ‘shut the fuck up.’

“No, uh-uh, none of this fucking shit,” Raven growls, his voice a low rumble that seems to vibrate through the very stones of the castle. He runs a hand through his dark hair, mussing it in a way that makes him look less like a mysterious spy and more like a harried babysitter. “I only know about root beer because you once spent a whole day talking about how fucking good it was. You wouldn’t shut the fuck up about it.”

The words tumble out of him in a rush, each one tinged with the weariness of a man who’s had this exact conversation far too many times. The air around him seems to shimmer with barely contained frustration like heat rising from sun-baked stones.

I nod sagely, my grin never faltering. “That tracks,” I say, feeling an odd sense of satisfaction at having apparently driven Raven to this state of exasperation even before losing my memories over something as simple as soda.

“What about candy then?” I ask, looking to see if I could find my favorite snack.

Raven’s reaction is instantaneous. His eyes widened, and a look of sheer exhaustion mingled with barely concealed panic on his face. “Don’t-” he begins, but Lilith cuts the word off abruptly.

“The chefs make it occasionally,” she says, her voice taking on a thoughtful tone. “It’s quite a delicacy, actually. Not something you see every day.”

My face lights up at this revelation. “Oh man, that’s awesome!” I exclaim, feeling a childlike excitement bubble up inside me. “Do they make Tootsie Rolls?”

The moment the words leave my mouth, something extraordinary happens. Raven, looking utterly done with the entire conversation, suddenly seems to melt into the floor. His body becomes inky and fluid, sinking into his own shadow until he disappears completely. It’s as if the very ground has swallowed him up, leaving no trace behind.

Lilith stares at the spot where Raven vanished. Then her gaze snaps back to me, her purple eyes wide with confusion and growing frustration. “What’s a tootsie roll?”