Somewhere Someplace

"Fax inflammat! Igni!" He hurled with voice as he hurled by wand, ball after flaming ball. His face was dripping with sweat, his breaths fatigued yet not from physical action but rather sheer fixation. "Igni! Igni!" He shouted over and over, his eyes fully ignited, that radiant signa of the arcane exposed and bright.

He had been told that this training dummy against which he was so lashing out was 'enchanted' and 'hardened with greatest elements' which made it 'completely and absolutely fireproof'. Swordstaff was certainly testing this theory; this training dummy, victimized by flames burning so perfidiously which only became hotter and more destructive with each casting, was reaching its limit.

Yesterday were thirty balls of that arcane blue fire; the day before was twenty-eight, and the day before the before was twenty-five; today was thirty-seven. He was pushing his limits, farther and further—fueled by bitterness and spite. This had been the case with Swordstaff ever since that day of…humiliation. He was artful in so many forms of spellcraft and sorcery, yet this exact same spell was the only one he seemed to have any interest in practicing over and over.

Such an obsessive boy, truly.

At least he was lashing against that training dummy and not her herself. Was he trying to prove a point to her by making her watch over and over? Or perhaps she was being 'egotistical' again… There was a wicked irony in being accused of such by the one who sat upon ego's throne. Though, really, she had no choice either way. She was his attendant; thus, she attended… And he made her accompany him everywhere, always.

Oh, he knew very well that she had found it utterly embarrassing; he knew very well rumors were already circulating around. Perhaps he was hoping for a sea of envy; yet he did not get that. His own reputation was not what it had once been… The other girls were starting to see what he was; for he was failing to hide it anymore. Too much was simply going wrong in his life, from his point of view.

Though, such was not to say that the other girls had started to like her either. No, they hated her still, and they hated that she—for reasons none of them understood—had been 'promoted' so prestigiously.

Because yes.

This…fate.

This…arrangement.

Was a fucking promotion.

Honestly, so much had simply gone wrong in her life. She could not help but force a similarity between herself and him… Truth be told, maybe she could understand why Swordstaff was constantly burning and burning and burning that training dummy. She would be doing the same exact thing right now. She really wanted to…burn everything down.

Though, really, she just wanted to sleep…

"Igni! Omnia per torrentem! Conflagra!" With a final incantation, he unleashed a torrential stream of blue fire seemingly from his wand's glowing tip that pulsated with strips of increasingly visible wisp-dusty radiance, the signa engraved upon his eyes brightening.

The burning dummy was practically gone; engulfed, charred, and consumed. The intense flames, however, did not segregate themselves; they quickly spread to the grass.

Not an issue, however, for this 'boy genius'; he simply changed the stylized coordination of his movements and shifted the direction of his mind. "…Steam Regent hear my voice: between fire and ice, these flames may you harmonize!" With these paired words, his ignited eyes flipped from destructive blue to calmer and more serene…vapory grey.

In a complex process largely invisible besides the momentary 'pulse' from his wand's tip, the flames reactively sizzled before extinguishing as if having been washed away; as if the combustion had been muzzled. All that was left was a faint and translucent mist of residual wisp-dusty glimmer and sparkles which lingered where his blue flames had burned.

Truly, perhaps she would have been in awe of this display, had she not become so utterly numb to these sights… If only his talents translated to maths.

Swordstaff remained in place, his breaths heavy… His eyes returned to normalcy, a temporary yet evident signa-burn left behind. Sweating from both heat and fatigue, he stepped back as if he was about to fall over though ultimately remained stable.

"Towel." he soon demanded.

Sighing, Blossom promptly went to him and gave him his…towel. "Here."

Swordstaff smothered himself all over that towel—practically—before throwing it back at her, the towel flashing itself wide and open before latching onto her face with a molesting grasp. Blossom could only shudder, were this not even close to the most violated she had felt. Indeed, simply took the towel off her face and folded it for reuse.

"Follow." Voice audibly strained, he began to walk, and Blossom servantly followed behind. However, there was a daze to his walk; it seemed there was some struggle in moving forward—as if his muscles had become much heavier.

Having overexerted his aura, 'mana-fatigue' was affecting so… Yet his determination attempted to resist.

"Maybe you should, like, sit down and rest…" Blossom suggested, no concern in her voice.

"And maybe you should eat my tail for dinner, whore's daughter." Swordstaff so replied, glancing with an annoyed eye.

"Thanks, but I already had that for morning, my young sir." Blossom dryly retorted. Of course, such did not actually happen; she was just being sarcastic.

Swordstaff tsked and halted, sharply turning to her with quite the scowl. He did not seem to care for her developing sense of humor—a real shame. "I have said this plenty, but I will say it again: I don't know what is going on or what you and your 'friend' have done, but I know there is trickery here; I know there is a corruption that has weeded itself, and I am—"

"My sir, perhaps you should happen a sit before bespeaking your delusions." Blossom casually interjected, baggy eyes unexpressive; "You look so tired and strained, it hurts my heart…" She made a deliberately disingenuous sad face.

Swordstaff growled and abruptly went close, eyes glaring their sight straight down into her own… Right, he was taller than her. "Listen here, you may act as if you are atop a throne because of your sovereign-bloodedness, but remember this: you are nothing besides a bewitching bastard, illegitimate and unwanted and corrupted by envy… You're not above me; you're nothing to me… You are a servant in my house, and I own you now—you are mine!"

Yet Blossom held her ground. "Mm… If you say so…" Her eyes were dismissively turned… "I still don't understand how you simultaneously accuse me of being a 'manipulating witch' horny for you, but then stare at me with obsession, saying 'oh, thou'rt mine'."

He harshly gripped her collar with snarling breaths. "Sneer all you want, you undignit witch, but mark these words: I am getting to the bottom of this, and I assure you I will drag the shadows involved into the burning light of my flames—I will." He let her go. "Heh… So, enjoy this as you have, but I will give you nothing of what you want."

"…does it…sincerely look like I have been enjoying any of this?" Blossom had to wonder, speaking softly though with gritting teeth.

For a moment, Swordstaff's eyes drifted…as if he was actually engaging in a modicum of introspection. "Maybe…not." Indeed, there was a loosening to his breaths… "You don't…reek as strongly as before; I realize… You might've been…touched by the taint, not the origin…" Yet his breaths then tightened. "But whether you're innocent or not, there are machinations at play. I was at the tip—the tip—of my destiny… My entire life, I was preparing for the day that I—me, not him, not you, not anyone else! That I was to be this house's chosen—I was raised to be… I did nothing wrong! Nothing! I did everything he ever wanted, but then you—you—came along and everything collapsed!"

"Daddy's boy…" Blossom muttered.

"What was that?" Swordstaff obviously heard that.

"You're upset because your daddy threw you away…" Yet Blossom remained undeterred. "He doesn't laud you anymore during dinner time; he doesn't give you those 'I love you son' eyes. He only asks about one thing now, and you are being so petty not to give him the only thing you know he wants."

Swordstaff gave her a widened stare, as if stunned and astonished… "I… I can end you right now, a charred worm in the dirt, and nobody would care."

"Nobody…besides daddy." Oh no, she was giving him such a tacit yet condescending smirk. "And you're such a daddy's boy; that's why you won't ever do it, Swordy. My blood is way too important, and your daddy can't replace it… But he can always make another son."

His eyes only widened more, his lips wrinkling… "Gods' sacred toilet… You are fucking…insufferable!" Wow, he actually swore. "I was supposed to be wedded to a princess… Why, why, did I have to be burdened with a poisonous bastard—with you!"

"I wonder the same thing…" Blossom so remarked… "If you'd just make me pregnant already, we'd be done with this… But noo, you prefer being a freakish sodomite!" she herself raised her voice, only to then see…

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

"Ah…" The way he was now looking at her.

She knew that face by now.

"I see… I see what this is, what you are trying to do…" he thus spoke; "Heh… Alrightly, fine. You win. You've done it—oh you've done it, you…insufferable…rodent." Abruptly, he grabbed her arm, squeezing tight as he began to pull and tug, harshly. "Dare accuses me of sodomy, obviously the clueless bastard needs a reminder of what words even mean!"

"Ow… Alrightly, you're…" Blossom was beginning to realize…what she had caused. "Ow, ow, alrightly, you're hurting me… Please stop… I'm sorry, I'm sorry—please stop… I don't want…"

"No, no, no… None of this again. None. Of. This. You obviously wanted this. You wanted this!" Swordstaff's tug only became harsher as he dragged her off and away.

Truth be told, in a most paradoxical and wicked of ways, it was only during moments such as these when Blossom felt even a semblance of genuine control over her fate.

-||-

Evening time, thus supper time though she was not hungry. Being alone for once, she was staring out of one of the large windows that so patterned the halls of this manor-estate, gazing into her reflection in particular…

Well, that was a painful experience, she reflected.

She was left burnt on the neck and bruised a little; although at least the latter was covered, so that did not matter. She did feel she would be unable to sit for a while, though.

Truly, that was stupid of her, she felt; she had perhaps provoked him too greatly this time. Though, she lacked regrets despite the sores.

Apparently, with the other girls, he knew how to 'make them squeem' and 'feel good'; he was tamer with them. Not with her though. She was his punching bag.

He wanted to make her cry or scream or beg or…something; she was not sure if had, which must have frustrated him so. He burned her with his magics this time; he used his life magics to then heal those burns only to inflict again…which simultaneously made everything more sensitive and…painful. Apparently, that was how life magic worked.

She barely remembered the experience, frankly. She tried not to. They had only 'done it' thrice, or…four times now… And each of those times, she had floated away into a cloud of nothingness until it was over. It was a weird thing, truly; she just did this. And she had always heard that the first time was always the most memorable and 'euphoric'. Yet she did not even remember anything about that first night; that first time… It was quick and painless, at least, when he had so 'seized it'…

Right, she was not a virgin anymore. She would have thought she would feel…something about that fact, yet for whatever reason…she felt nothing. She was feeling nothing, even though every day she would awake with a sunken pit within her stomach…

Growing up as a girl, she was often told of the 'sanctity' of virginity… How it should be safeguarded; the wrongfulness of losing it prematurely or having it stolen; the 'purity' and 'honor' of 'reserving' one self for the 'right' soul—and the shame of not doing so. Albeit she moved from village to village, and different communities had different…beliefs; so, she had been told many different things, sometimes contradictory…

Some villages did not seem to care too much about what girls were up to and had fathers who were not possessive, while others—especially those of a more insular Trinitarian order—effectively believed that a girl belonged to her father until a husband came along to claim her virginity…as if a transfer of ownership

In general, however, there seemed to be a broad added importance, veneration, or value towards the virginity of girls… An added value that was not purely social-cultural, but economical too. Virgins tended to fetch a noticeably higher price in the slave markets; so much so that most realms partaking in that trade had penalties for anyone who engaged with a virgin slave that did not belong to them, since the owner would be damaged by the reduced sell value.

It was all sickening and bizarre, frankly… How a boy—married or not—could go fuck around without shame, such if anything being his 'rite of passage' to manhood, but a girl had to be strictly reserved for only but one soul—a soul she could not even choose half the time—lest she be deemed 'used' or 'unmarriable'… Though, again, it depended on where. Not everywhere was the same, but Blossom was not thinking about nuances; albeit she had never really thought about these things in general until recently…

Whatever. It did not matter. Virgin, not virgin… Virginity and who 'took' it…

It should not matter. Most of the girls here seemingly cared not… Their mothers, in fact, had no doubt encouraged them to…be promiscuous with the nobles once here—mischievous social advancement by means of untimely motherhood to a higher blooded. Such foolish peasant fantasies, truly, for they knew not the burden of being that bastard child… Although, not every noble house treated bastards the same…

Regardless, she had to reiterate to herself: it did not matter. This whole…veneration of virginity was invented by freakish old men obsessed with young girls—it was almost fetishistic, really, their obsession with being a girl's first… If anything, no longer being a virgin was liberating in a sense, for she was now unburdened by the puritan expectations and strangling need to preserve it…

Yet…

Why did it have to be him? Why did he have to be the one? It was…supposed to be reserved for someone special—someone she loved—, not…

She wanted to puke but could not. She could cry, but she had done enough of that. Her eyes were now dry; she was dry within. All she could do was try not to care, because there was nothing she could do besides be dragged along by Fate's pre-decided strings.

All she wanted now was for this to be done and over with, fast and swiftly.

Oh, but Swordstaff… That boy was doing everything he could to not let that happen, paradoxically enough. Truly, Blossom had thought that he would be relishing in this 'promotion' of hers, considering he had cornered her that day, groping her with threatening insinuations… He seemed obsessed with her, but now…he seemingly wanted nothing to do with her.

Swordstaff was keenly aware of the true expectations of his father, having been told who she truly was and that she was 'under his safeguarding protection'. Yet besides that first night, which was no doubt merely him 'marking his right' upon her 'as his', he did not initiate anything. Indeed, the only way she had managed to get him to initiate the following two, now…three, instances was by provoking him.

Truly, he was such a freakish weirdo; she did not understand him…

Yet Swordstaff was an awfully clever boy who understood the cause-and-effect relationship between 'seeding' and 'growth', and he knew how to avoid it. At no point had he actually 'planted', so to speak. He was actively refusing to.

Such a daddy's boy; so terrified, he must be, of being replaced by a superior blooded anointed chosen… Or maybe he was still obsessed with her…

Blossom sighed… Honestly, she did not even know why she was thinking about this. It was making her extremely…horrible within. She refused to let that man-boy mangle her soul, yet…

She was frustrated and annoyed. Angry. She was so…angry, at everyone and everything. She could barely sleep anymore, because the thought of the future kept her trapped awake. She hated everything yet simultaneously was far too exhausted to even feel hatred anymore…

"I want to go home…"

Indeed… She just wanted to go home.

Though, she never really did…have a 'home', did she?

What even was her real name again? Even that was hard to remember sometimes…

While Blossom kept staring into the faint reflection of herself in this window, footsteps walked past behind with murmurs and whispers… For some reason, even though she did not hear the words, she felt that they were directed towards her…

They were talking behind her back, all of them… They had to be… Why would they not?

Such was all they did: gossip, rumor, whisper, giggle and laugh and laugh… Sluts without dignity.

She hated everyone here.

"Yikes… Is she alright?"
"What is that scar on her neck? A burn?"

Oh, great… These two had paused; she could feel their staring…

"Should we ask?"
"Best not, she is the young sir's attendant now…"
"What did he do to her?"
"Revenge, possibly… You remember what she did, surely?"
"Might that be why she was promoted? So that he could…"

Wait… Gossips and rumors…

An idea popped into Blossom's falling head. A very stupid one… Yet everything happening to her was already stupid. Everyone here was stupid.

And all of this pain in her stomach…

At least one of the perks of this current arrangement was that…the Berrybottoms needed her; she was the one who carried the blood, and no potential consequences could be worse than this fate.

This was already her nightmare—her mother's greatest fear. Things could not possible get worse for her than this.

Oh, but she could certainly make things worse for him.

Blossom thus turned herself to face those whispering juniors, a weird expression on her face. They looked concerned and seemed curious. So, she approached them.
"…you want to know what happened?"

"Huh?" One of the juniors' heads jerked back slightly. "Something happened?"

"Yeah…" Blossom's tired eyes fell down whilst she sighed… "I was…helping the young sir with his…morning routine, doing my best; making sure he did not overwork himself during his magical…practices. He asked for his towel, and I went to give it to him. But then… Then…" Her jaws began to jitter, a shiver emerging in her breaths…

She was going to tell them that he, in a fit of rage, dragged her off to his chambers where he proceeded to rape her, forcefully rob her virginity, sodomize her, and torture her with his magics all the while she so begged him to stop… Or something extreme in that regard. This, of course, was intended to be a deliberate distortion of matters, even if she herself felt that she would not be necessarily lying. But she was hoping to start a rumor that would hurt him.

Yet…

She remained there, her mouth trying to articulate though no such words coming out… If anything, her breaths felt…suddenly anxious. Very anxious.

She could not…possibly be scared, surely…?

She was not…scared of him. She refused to let that sodomite man-boy…control her…

Right?

"I… I tripped, stupidly, and…there was an accident." That was not how this was supposed to be. "His fire magic is…unwieldy."

"Oh…" The junior maids had a breath of relief, it seemed. "That makes perfect sense, actually… Thanks for clarifying that, Pink. We were beginning to assume…something else."

"We have been hearing strange rumors of him lately…" the other junior maid mentioned.

"Well… Rumors are…just…that: rumors… So… Don't… Do not…always…follow them blindly." What was the point of even speaking, truly… "He is…a fiery boy…man, but he is not…that terrible; he's…clever…"

"Rightly…" The junior maids just looked at her… "Well, you are his attendant now—for better or worse, but we shan't question your appointment. You would know better than us…what is within his shed"

"…he is…really bad at math; it is…kinda funny…" Indeed, it kind of was… Blossom only knew a thing or two, but Swordstaff was daft despite the superior tutorship.

One of the junior maids snickered. "Alrightly, well, that is how you ruin a sir's reputation."

Yet the other junior maid so turned; "Eh… Moon already remarked similarly, did she not?"

"Oh, who cares what she has to say now? Behhh." The responding junior did a…mocking expression with her lips and tongue. "Moon is such an undignified slut, and those overused cunts always lie."

"Tehe, you always have a way with words…"

Tittering away, the two junior maids went on their merry way, the focus of their whispers changing to belittling another.

Blossom watched as they became further and farther…

"Hurting him will…only hurt me more…" She sighed. "We're in this…together… Rightly? I mean… I am practically his…wife now—bleh, ew, ew, ew! But… I can probably…make him a dog…or something…" She liked that idea. "Hm… And if he does…become the head of this house, that could…solve a lot of problems for me, maybe…" She shook her head, pinching her eye sockets. "Why am I thinking…these things? Eck… I am…so sleepy…" With a tired exhale, she began to walk off… Dinner should be ending soon; she needed to return to him.

Blossom's adolescent brain, ever malleable to the environment and influences around, was doing the only thing it knew to do in this situation: adaptation and immediate self-preservation… Even if it meant distorting its perceptions, twisting its interpretations, and bending…the very reality.