Chapter Text
The Duke of Meropide always thought the prettiest sight after a long day of work was the soft wisps of steam that rose from his teacup. However, he wasn’t opposed to having tea before work, during work, or even late at night.
Nobody could never tell what time of day it was in the Fortress of Meropide – the prison was so far below the surface of the sea that no light could ever reach the bulky, ugly, worn-down structure. The only indicator of whether the sun had risen or not were the clocks hung on many of the walls throughout the complex. In Wriothesley’s office, there was one large clock on the opposite side of the room. Its hands showed the slimmest of distance from exactly noon as he picked up his freshly brewed cup of Victoria Grey, an odd blend of teas said to be crafted specifically to the taste of a particular aristocrat many centuries ago. He held the handle daintily as he brought the porcelain teacup to his lips – the soothing warmth of a fresh brew slipped down his throat as easily as ever. The sharp note of bergamot opened into a milder and sweeter liquorice, lavender, and honey on his tongue. He let out a sigh, enjoying the relaxation proffered by his borderline-addiction to tea.
“You know why I’m here.”
Your voice jolted him from the peaceful enjoyment of his hot tea and snapped him out of his daze of tranquility. He glanced up from the steaming cup, his gaze meeting yours from across the coffee table. You were sitting on the couch, your legs crossed and posture perfect as you held your own steaming cup in your hands.
“And it’s not for my diverse collection of various teas, is it?” Wriothesley chucked, lifting the porcelain cup to his lips. His shoulders relaxed as he took a slow sip of the hot liquid.
You set your saucer onto the coffee table with a ‘clink’, the tea seemingly untouched inside its delicate stone cup.
“The reason why I come is always the same, and you are aware of this fact.” You responded slowly, standing up from the comfortable upholstered couch.
“Then you’ll know the answer is still no.” Wriothesley responded sternly as he glanced back up towards you. His gaze turned sharp, his eyes seeming to stare through your skull, despite the way he continued to daintily hold the tiny teacup.
Still, you wouldn’t let his dramatic shift in demeanor unsettle you. Every time, it seemed, the Duke would entertain you politely – until you got to the point of why you had asked to meet.
“Yet you still agree to meet?”
You lifted your foot off of the ground and set it on the wooden surface. The table rattled, making Wriothesley break eye contact with you. The fine porcelain and silverware on the table clinked as it jumped with the impact. The table was only knee-high, but your gesture was so blatantly improper, Wriothesley’s mouth dropped open with surprise.
“You can’t ignore your past, Wrio.” You spoke, standing up onto the table as you continued to stare at him. “The situation has changed. I lost an informant, things are reaching the breaking point. I need your help.”
“You can’t still be working on that investigation of yours.” The duke shook his head, but his eyes began to drift down your form. They lingered on your body for a beat too long – on your waist, your legs.
“I won’t let things stay as they are.” You responded, stepping over and down on the other side of the table. You were now standing directly at Wriothesley’s feet, staring down into his eyes. You began to lean closer to him, using your proximity to pressure him further.
At this distance, you could smell him – mechanical grease, bergamot, the strange musk of perpetual dampness that always clouded the Fortress…
“You should drop it.” He responded, his voice growing smaller as his posture seemed to stiffen. “For your own good. You know what will happen when they catch wind of this.”
You leaned closer, reaching over Wriothesley’s shoulder to rest one hand on the couch behind him. He didn’t seem to stop you from getting closer – not that he ever had before.
“Are you even paying attention?” You snapped, but you were caught off guard as Wriothelsey let his cup clatter onto the coffee table to reach up and grab the sides of your face. He pulled you into a deep kiss, his lips firmly against yours.
For a moment you felt yourself relax into the familiar sensation. The Duke’s lips were soft, the sweet tinge of tea spreading across your tongue as you pressed further into the kiss. You had done this far too many times before; each time, you lost all sense of regret as you savored the feeling of being touched… the feeling of being wanted.
However, you were determined to produce results this time. Gripping his neck with your free hand, you pushed him away from you, breaking the kiss.
“You know I won’t agree to an investigation.” Wriothesley murmured softly, his eyes staring directly into your own.
“If we don’t do anything, more children will come to harm. More children will end up like us .”
As you spoke, you trailed your thumb along the deep scar that ran down his neck. For a moment, your train of thought faltered, memories bubbling up to the surface and distracting you from the current situation.
“It wasn’t so bad, was it?” Wriothesley chuckled. It was as though he could read your mind.
Without a moment of hesitation, your lips were on his again as you forced him back against the soft cushions of the couch. You squeezed his neck as you devoured his surprisingly soft lips, legs sliding onto the couch so you could kneel on either side of his lap. Your teeth grazed at his lip as your hand squeezed tighter, beginning to cut off his supply of air. It reached the point where his hands gripped your face tightly, forcing you away from him.
Letting go of his neck, you could hear Wriothesley sharply inhale, his chest rising and falling sharply as he caught his breath. His eyes remained fixated on you as you pushed yourself back upright.
“Please… I’m begging you to reconsider.” You whispered, fingers sliding down his neck and latching onto his red tie. You began to loosen the knot, your other hand reaching down to finger at the buttons of his jacket.
“You can do all you want, but my answer is still the same.”
“Then I suppose I’ll do just that.” A smile began to grow across your lips as you unbuttoned his jacket and moved onto his shirt. Your fingers moved with deftness that could only be gained from familiarity – you’d done this several times before.
Wriothesley only broke eye contact as you finally sat down onto him, your hips and the plush of your ass putting pressure on his lap. He couldn’t help but stare at the way your thighs peeked out from your skirt in this position, seeming fuller and softer now that they were squished against his lap.
Criminal as he was, the duke was a principled man. He resisted the urge to grab onto your bare legs, dig his fingers into the plush skin, and let them roam.
You were now done away with his shirt buttons – his chest was now exposed, the shirt and jacket pushed towards the sides. You reached towards his toned, scarred chest. Your fingers traced feather-light patterns along the jagged marks in his skin, the raised keloid scars and uneven tone; It was almost as though you were mesmerized. Your touches against his hairy and scarred chest were so gentle it almost tickled.
Wriothesley could never tell what was going on inside your head. He could never read your expression, even when you were going through actions that seemed to indicate an obvious emotion. As your fingers roamed his bare skin, lingering on every mark as though you felt some connection to it, your face was unintelligible. It was as though there was a complete disconnect between what you were feeling and what you were showing.
He stared, baffled, for a while; he watched as you dipped your head downwards, leaving gentle kisses on his old scars. It was like some sort of worship – like you were caring for the former injuries, despite them having happened twelve years ago.
You glanced up, and the Duke unwittingly made eye contact with you. He began to feel the heat rise in his face as he thought about the position the two of you were in. He was leaning back against the back couch cushions, his torso exposed, with you hovering above him. Wriothesley’s eyes darted around his office, worried for a moment that someone might step in and witness the two of you in such a compromising position…
You slid backwards slightly, your skirt having ridden up even more as your hands glided down his stomach. Your fingers traced along the trail of dark hair that grew in thickness as it neared his belt buckle.
Wriothesley seemed too distracted by the dark fabric of your panties that peeked out from beneath your skirt to notice that you had undone his belt and pulled it free from his waist. He wanted to reach down and grab your waist, flip you over and pin you down on the couch cushions, and ravage you right then and there. He wanted to feel you, to hold you, to fuck you until you showed anything other than indifference on your face.
He only snapped out of his daze when he could feel the cold air hit his throbbing member. You had deftly freed his cock from the confines of his pants, the tip blushing and beading with precum.
“I’m beginning to think this is the only real reason why you come all the way down to the Fortress of Meropide for tea.” Wriothesley chuckled, hoping the heat rising in his face wasn’t noticeable.
“If I’m to leave without your cooperation,” You smirked, leaning up on your knees and adjusting your hips slightly. “The least I can do is make up for the lengthy trip.”
“Do you really hate tea that m- ngh…”
You had forced yourself down onto his length, panties grinding against his stiff member. He could feel a distinct dampness from your arousal as your hips shifted up and down.
“I see you like getting straight to the point.” He stated flatly, fully absorbed in the feeling of friction against his length. There was only a thin layer of fabric between his leaking cock and your wet heat, yet he felt a sense of hunger for your bare skin like nothing else.
His hands traveled up your thighs, slipping under your skirt, settling on the curve of your hips. You could feel his rough, calloused hands dig into your skin. He began to push you up and down with his hands, fingertips brushing against the edge of your panties, trying his hardest to remain calm.
You could feel his strength as he attempted to move your body up and down for you – but your legs were stronger, and you forced your hips down hard.
“Ngh,” He groaned, the weight of your body on his erection bordering on pain.
“I don’t have the patience for a cup of tea.” You responded curtly, eyeing his expression as his eyes squeezed shut for a moment.
“But you have enough patience to-”
Wriothesley was cut off with a gasp as your hips shifted and you began to sink down on his member. You had pulled your panties to the side, allowing the tip of his cock to press into your wet heat. Despite moving slowly, allowing him to enter you little by little, the duke seemed entranced by your tight cavern as he tilted his head back and let out a shaky sigh. While you sank lower, your hand moved up to his exposed neck, fingers sliding over his collar and tracing along the scar on his neck once again.
“Haah…” He panted, “You sure are eager.”
“This is the last time I’m coming by, anyway.” You lifted your hips up slightly, only to slam them down again after a moment. You felt full, his length stretching you, a pleasurable pressure settling in your stomach from the way he stretched you.
Wriothesley let out a noise somewhere between a groan and a whimper as you fit him entirely within you.
“What was that?” You teased, smiling as you rose and fell again.
This time, Wriothesley did not respond. His grip on your thighs tightened, his fingers pressing deeply into the soft flesh of your legs. Despite the way he gripped you, as if he were trying to take control and force you to move the way he wanted, your legs resisted as you worked your way into a rhythm of your own. You rose and fell faster and faster, shifting your hips to use his cock like nothing more than a toy.
As your pace increased, Wriothesley’s grip on your hips grew stronger. It felt like he was trying to hold you down and prevent you from using his dick for pleasure. Despite being far weaker than Wriothesley, your legs were strong enough to resist him, and you left all worries and thoughts about the meeting behind as you chased your own orgasm. Your free hand began to roam across your own body, slipping under your shirt and fondling your chest. It was as though you let fully loose, unafraid to chase the very base form of pleasure.
Wriothesley’s vision grew hazy as the pleasure threatened to take over his body. You were moving with just the right rhythm, up and down, as though you were trying to milk an orgasm from him. The duke stared lustfully at your face – it was still unreadable, even as you worked your way toward your climax.
As pleasure tightened like a coil in your stomach, your pace began to grow rougher, and that’s when Wriothesley knew he had to intervene; he couldn’t let you come like this, using him like some sort of human toy, so with all his might he grabbed your waist and lifted you from him.
With a yelp, you were thrown face-down onto the seat of the couch, Wriothesley pressing your face and upper torso into the soft cushions while your ass was held in the air.
“H-hey!” Your protest was muffled by the upholstery.
As you felt a finger poke at your sopping entrance, you let out a gasp. You were exposed like this, your aching pussy on display for the Duke as he ran a finger down the slick surface of your folds. However, you didn’t expect to feel something warm next. Something soft and hairy tickled the plush of your ass, and you realized you were feeling his hair as Wriothesley’s tongue dipped into your wet heat.
“You’re really wet.” He murmured, his breath tickling your sensitive lips. You groaned, shifting your hips in the air as you tried to get out of the compromising position.
“No shit, I was about to come you bas-” You were cut off with a whimper as Wriothesley smacked a hand onto the plush of your ass. His fingers dug into your soft flesh, pushing you down onto the couch and holding you still.
You struggled against his grip, but in this position, it was nearly impossible to resist his strength – it was different when you were on top, and you cursed him silently for not letting you finish before doing this.
Wriothesley lowered his head down again, tongue sliding up your slit before dipping into your quivering entrance. He savored the taste of your salty arousal, the smell of your sex. He reveled in the way you whined, desperate to feel him inside you again. To feel him fill you. To feel him fuck you.
“Wrio, what are you doing?” Your muffled whimper fell on deaf ears as Wriothesley hiked your skirt up even more, hooking his fingers around your panties and sliding them down your legs. He lifted your ass slightly for a split-second, allowing him to slip them out from beneath your knees and tuck the soaked fabric into his pocket.
As quickly as his mouth left your nether region, it was back. He worked his way upward, his tongue dragging from your pussy into the cleft of your ass.
“H-hey!” You whimpered as you felt him spread the skin of your cheeks, dipping his head in further as his tongue swiped over your unexpecting asshole. You braced yourself against the cushions as his wet, hot tongue teased you. You could feel him press his face harder into the plush of your ass, as though he were trying to smother himself with you, his tongue continuing to dance over your tight hole.
You let out a gasp as you felt the tip of his tongue press into you, breaching the tiny tight hole. You felt so exposed, so vulnerable, yet it began to feel good.
Wriothesley let out a groan as he pushed further into your hot, tight hole. It felt so warm in there… he pushed in deeper, feeling your asshole tighten around his wet tongue.
He pumped his tongue in and out, listening to the whimpers that escaped from your tongue. He loved it. He loved digging his hands into the soft skin of your ass, pushing his nose into your cheeks, performing such a dirty act in his own office.
Wriothesley brought one hand down to your pussy again, intending to finger you at the same time, when he realized just how wet you were. Slick had long since pooled at your neglected entrance, and was now dripping down your thighs and onto the couch cushions.
He lifted his head, a string of saliva linking his lips to your ass.
“It seems you really like this.” He commented, his tone surprisingly plain for someone in the middle of such an intimate act.
He swiped two fingers along the slick surface of your pussy, gathering up your arousal before putting it into his mouth. Your several flavors mixed in his mouth as he swirled his tongue, savoring the slippery texture of your wetness. Wriothesley wanted to take his time with you, to tease and edge you, but seeing how hungry you seemed to be, he couldn’t wait any more.
Turning his attention back to his twitching cock, still fully erect, he shifted his position on the couch to line his hips up with yours.
Confused by the lack of sensation, you tried to lift yourself up, only to be shoved back into place by the Duke.
“What are you- aah!” You yelped as he forced his cock into your slippery entrance, filling you until your hips were flush with his.
Wriothesley couldn’t wait — he immediately broke into a ferocious rhythm, his hips smacking against the plush of your ass as he pounded into you over and over. You wailed from the sudden sensation, overwhelmed by the pleasure that filled your gut as he fucked you. All you could do was squeeze your eyes shut and take it, your face buried in the couch cushions and ass in the air.
“You’d better- hah- be quiet, now.” Wriothesley couldn’t catch his breath from how fast he moved. “You don’t want anyone else to hear.”
“P-please,” you moaned, your fingers digging into the upholstery as stars danced in your vision. The stretch, the rhythm, the pressure against just the right spot felt far too good. You needed a break, a breather, some sort of reprieve from the overwhelming pleasure.
Your pleas fell on deaf ears as Wriothesley continued to slap his hips against you with increasingly wet sounds. He reveled in your tight heat that seemed to squeeze him in just the perfect way. Every time he forced his way into you, he felt the plush of your ass collide with his hips – it felt so good. He looked down at you, ass in the air, showing him the way the two of you were connected. He could see his length each time he pulled out, watch it disappear into your pussy every time he rammed his way in.
You let out a muffled whine as the coil in your stomach tightened and you forgot about the reason why you even came here in the first place. As Wriothesley’s cock continued its hungry, harsh, rapid thrusts you just wanted to feel him closer to you. To watch him fill you. To stare up at his face while he fucked you.
Instead, Wriothesley seemed to do the opposite. He slowed his movements, his hips coming to rest against your ass as you felt a harsh tug on your hair. It was strong enough to lift your body up, so now your back was flush against his toned chest. One of Wriothesley’s hands went to your stomach, fingers pressing into the slightest bump the tip of his cock left in your stomach. The other hand ran through your hair before settling on your neck.
“Why must the heavens be so cruel.” He murmured, his hips beginning to shift as he pulled out slightly, beginning a slow rock in and out of you. You could feel the rumble in his chest as he spoke and feel his hot breath against your ear. “You feel so perfect .”
You let out a gasp as his hips snapped against your ass with a sudden harsh move. He felt bigger in this position, and as he moved you could feel him more.
“Please, y-you’re too big. It’s too much-” You gasped, your body shivering beneath his grip. However, he didn’t cease the languid snapping of his hips.
Wriothesley reveled in the slick that dripped from your pussy as it squeezed him, the way it ran down your thighs and got onto his legs as well, the heat of your skin against his. He held you tighter, his fingers gripping the slim column of your neck. He wanted to feel more of you. He wanted to feel all of you.
“Wr- Wr-” You choked, his fingers too tight around your neck for you to finish. You felt so warm, so close to Wriothesley, so connected to him like this. The slow rocking of his hips forced his length into you rhythmically, tightening the coil in your abdomen until your eyes began to roll back in your head.
As Wriothesley picked up the pace, he squeezed your neck harder, and you could no longer breathe. Stars danced in your vision as he railed into you, his hips smacking against the plush of your ass until you knew it would be red after.
Not like you cared.
As you felt your head grow dizzy from the dangerous combination of asphyxiation and pleasure, Wriothesley picked up the pace even more. The way he pounded into you was sure to leave bruises, but all you could feel was the crescendo of pleasure that crashed down upon your body, turning your vision dark.
Despite being on the brink of unconsciousness, you felt like you were in heaven. You felt complete.
If you just died here, your life would have been worth living. You’d be happy. You’d feel at peace. You never wanted to leave this place, to leave Wriothesley’s side, no matter how badly you needed to go up to the surface. You forgot about all your troubles in this moment of ecstasy, truly losing yourself in this ephemeral lust and hunger and love that made you feel like you finally belonged somewhere.
Wriothesley’s hips began to stutter as he neared a climax of his own. His arms shifted to wrap around your torso, allowing him to thrust even deeper. Dipping his head down, he latched his lips around the soft flesh at the nape of your neck, sinking his teeth in. He didn’t know why he decided to bite you – something inside him simply wanted to. He easily broke your skin, the taste of your blood blending with the sex and the tea to become some strange lewd flavor in his mouth.
If he could capture the essence of such a taste and turn it into tea, he’d never feel the desire to drink anything else for the rest of his life.
Finally, with a shaky sigh, he came. He panted as he spilled his seed into you, not even caring to notice you had gone limp while he held you tightly against him. As his hips settled against your ass, his hand moved to feel the slight swell in your stomach.
Maybe, if it took, you’d stay. You’d give up on your investigation. You’d live happily in the Fortress of Meropide with him, and raise your kids together. You wouldn’t ever have to leave again.
Gradually, the cloud of lust faded from Wriothesley’s head. He slipped himself out of you, gently resting your unconscious body on the couch. He looked down at you, your hair messy, your clothes wrinkled, your skirt stained with a combination of arousal and cum. You seemed so peaceful as you laid there, your chest steadily rising and falling with each breath.
Wriothesley silently caught his breath, standing up and tucking his slowly softening dick back into his pants, ignoring the mess that covered his lower half. Meropide was a dirty place, anyway – he didn’t bother cleaning up.
Stealing one glance back at you, he picked up the discarded pair of panties from beside you on the couch, tucking them into his pants pocket before walking away. He descended the stairwell into the downstairs portion of his office, sneaking into the hidden hatch that led below the fortress of Meropide.
After each of your visits to the fortress, he found he needed to take some time to think. He descended the hidden stairwell, closing the hatch behind him and activating the elevator in the floor to take him even lower.
As he finally reached the bottom, he found neither of his clandestine researchers down below; he let out a sigh, thankful that he was alone.
The Duke of Meropide stared at the huge ship behind the glass wall, his secret project he had worked on for most of his life. He knew he could never trust you with this information – he could never trust you at all.
Not after that day.
~~~
Wriothesley remembered that day as clearly as yesterday, despite wanting nothing more than to forget it altogether. Every night when he laid down to sleep, every day when he had a moment of idle thought, every morning when the last remnants of dreams clung to his consciousness, memories he didn’t want would bubble to the surface and leave him scarred over and over again. More scarred than his body could ever show.
On that day, he woke up optimistic. He woke up feeling like a free child.
Orphans from that dreaded Institute were almost never adopted. It was said that the children were cursed when they were sent there – many never returned. Most of his past seemed dark and muddled in his mind, but there was no doubt that what went on inside that institution was illegal.
Through all of those tough years, there was one constant in his life – you. He could barely remember how the two of you first met; he didn’t dwell on that part of his life much. If he did, he might not have been able to function as a human in society.
He remembers the feeling of guilt when he finally said goodbye to you. When he walked away, holding the hands of his new foster parents. He remembered being called a new name, a name that they had chosen, but because that name had never come from your lips it didn’t truly feel like it belonged to him.
That very night, as he laid under his new covers, in his new bedroom, where he lived with his new family, he could hear your voice.
He remembers it like nothing else.
~Twelve Years Ago~
‘Stop it, get away from me!’
The sound came from outside his window. Without hesitation, he leapt from the bed and rushed to look out.
You were cornered by two men in the alley below, only the top of your head visible from the way they dwarfed your frame. Wriothesley didn’t remember what they were saying – but he remembered the way they seemed to grab at you, the way you fought back.
There was no hesitation as he crashed through the window, shards of glass clattering to the ground around him. The two men glanced over, but it was already too late for them. He had already grabbed a jagged piece of glass from the ground, ignoring the way it cut into the skin of his hands as he drove it into the back of the first man.
A flurry of fighting broke out after that. Everything was a blur for him – he was holding back a knife, shouting for you to run, taking hit after ruthless hit as he struggled against the two much larger men. His life of training was what ultimately spared his life. He fought back deftly, dodged, blocked, survived . When everything was done, and the men were completely still, The boy was surprised he was still standing.
His breathing was ragged. Blood poured from his throat, where a deep slash ran from his chin all the way down his chest.
As the blood spread across the cobblestone alleyway, the thought of his blood mixing with those who had hurt you was revolting. Yet he could not vomit. His thoughts were only of you.
“Y…Y/N?” He murmured, his throat hoarse. The cut on his throat was so deep that his lungs felt light yet heavy at the same time, like he was choking on his blood. “It’s safe now.”
He glanced around the alleyway, but you were nowhere to be found. At this point the blood loss was too much – the boy fainted, falling on top of the two he had fought tooth and nail to kill.
‘Yes, officer, over here!’ Your voice was muffled, faded, but it comforted the boy as he drifted closer and closer to death.
~~~
When the boy woke up in the hospital bed, both of his hands cuffed to the railings, he was surprised – he did not expect to have survived. It seemed that the Archons wanted him to live with the weight of his sins on his shoulders.
As he glanced around the room, he realized a well-dressed woman was sitting in a chair far from the bed, her posture tense and her gaze nervous. Producing pen and paper, she asked for his name, and he paused for a time.
His thoughts drifted to an obituary he once saw in the papers, one which you had seemed particularly attracted to. You had held onto this obituary, counting it among the few things you were permitted to bring into the orphanage. He remembers reading it several times – there was a person who had lived to a ripe old age bearing a long and complicated name... He wanted to carry at least a small memory of you with him, and never cared for the name his foster parents had given him.
And so, the woman wrote "Wriothesley" down and informed him of his trial date – the date the doctors expected him to be well enough to leave the hospital – before hurriedly standing to take her leave. He asked for your whereabouts, calling for you by name, but the woman bristled and did not respond. She merely glanced down, continuing her rushed exit.
The weeks it took for him to recover passed in relative peace and melancholy. Not once did he have a single visitor; he never cared for his foster parents, and knew you were busy with work assigned by the institution every day. As the date of his trial arrived, he felt a small sense of excitement – it would mean seeing you again.
However, as he stepped onto the defendant’s stand, he realized you were not on the balcony with him – you were on the other side.
And thus, he experienced the biggest betrayal of his life.
Nothing could have prepared him for the words that left your mouth when you were asked to give your witness statement.
“The two men tried to defend me from the targeted attack, but he was simply too vicious. All I could do was run and call for help. They gave up their lives to save me from Wriothesley.”
He couldn’t understand what you were saying. He couldn’t comprehend why you’d say things that simply weren’t true. He felt sick. Shocked. Speechless.
Yet, throughout the sickening ordeal, there was one thing that stuck in his head.
His name… at least you had said his name.
~~~
By the time Wriothesley was calm enough to return to his office, you had already left. The only traces of what had happened were the cups of now-cold tea sitting on the coffee table and the faintest hint of sex in the air. His first thought was to air his office out immediately – if Sigewinne were to walk in, with her far keener senses, she’d be traumatized.
Wriothesley got to work, tidying up the teacups and cleaning the office before sitting down and returning to the quotidian forms and paperwork of his administrative duties.
It wasn’t until some time later that someone finally came knocking on his door. It was the most inopportune time – Wriothesley had finally given into the temptation, pulling your crumpled panties from your pocket and holding them to his nose to take a deep breath.
“Ahem.” He sat straight up, swiftly hiding the small piece of fabric in one of his desk drawers. “You may enter.”
A familiar messenger ascended the stairs – Wriothesley cursed his luck, noting he was 30 minutes earlier than usual. “I’m back with the daily report from the surface.”
“You’re here early.”
“I’m sorry. I know you don’t care much for the judiciary system and laws of the surface world, but I thought I’d come early to give you some vital information. You might like to know about the duel between Clorinde and Y/N that is happening soon, since you know them both well.”
There was a sinking feeling in Wriothesely’s stomach as he watched those words leave his informant’s mouth.
“I also have a delivery of that rare tea that you ordered last-”
“ Duel? ” Wriothesley cut off his informant.
“Uhm, yes… The duel. Madame Y/N has requested a duel in lieu of trial.”
Wriothesley didn’t care about that tea he was so excited about trying; if you were involved in a duel, why hadn’t you told him? He knew the next words from his lips should be things along the lines of: What was she charged with? When was she tried? When will the duel start?
Instead, the Duke of Meropide leapt from his chair and rushed towards the door with one blunt sentence.
“I’m taking the rest of the day off.”
“Sir Wriothesley! Wait!” The informant called out to him, baffled. “Where are you headed?!”
Wriothesley didn’t turn back – he was already out the door. He only spoke a brief response before rushing to the elevator bay.
“I’m sure you can guess.”
“S-sir, what about your-” The informant’s sentence fell short as he watched Wriothesley disappear into the atrium. He looked down at the box in his hand; he had never before seen his boss ignore a new delivery of tea.
Prisoners jumped out of the way, cowering in fear as the Duke of Meropide stormed into the elevator and activated the switch. Wriothesley’s mind was reeling from this new information – he was trying to process why you would choose to see him on the day of the duel… until he remembered something you’d said in the heat of passion, that he had disregarded in the moment.
‘This is the last time I’m coming by, anyway.’
Most people rarely, if ever, chose to duel. It was merely kept an option for posterity and historical significance. The only people who would choose a duel over a fair trial were those blinded by pride, which you certainly were not… You also knew the guardswoman responsible for all duels, and knew well that you could never win against the skilled blade of Clorinde… which only left one option.
If you were the only suspect, the trial would be deemed unnecessary if you died in the duel.
As the elevator began to move, Wriothesley’s hands balled into fists, his jaw tensing as he gritted his teeth. Emotions came bubbling forth as he realized you intended to die .
You had fallen on the wrong side of the law many times before, but had always escaped punishment. Whatever had happened was bad enough for you to see no way out, yet you had chosen to come to Meropide. You had chosen to hide whatever crimes you had been accused of, and come to see him instead. You knew you were going to die when you saw him that morning. His mind reeled over every little intricacy of your discussion earlier, clinging onto every word you had said in order to find some sort of clue or reason why you had done this…
“FUCK!”
His bare fist slammed against the metal door to the elevator with a clang, leaving a shallow dent in its surface.
If only the damned machine could move faster.