HURTS
Written on October 3, 2024 (♏︎)
Author's Notes: Written for Whumptober 2024 for prompt No. 3: Set Up For Failure (“I Warned You”).
He came to her chamber unannounced. Ovelia was by the window, embroidery frame taut between her fingers as she chained endless stems on already overcrowded columbines. Her throat felt hot as his footstep crossed the threshold.
"The matter was dealt with,” Delita said firmly. “Viscount Orlandu’s son will make no more accusations."
Ovelia, straightening her posture as she imagined must befit a queen, stood but did not turn.
"I see."
"My lady...” His words drifted. He had evidently been expecting a question–or else an accusation.
The weight of her braids swung behind her as she swept toward him. If there were any such remonstrances, they would not be compacted into words. Instead, as Queen Atkascha approached her knight, she poured any venom she had into her gaze.
The dart struck. He winced.
The counterblow came fast as he rushed forth to take her hands in sympathy. She softened before she felt him wince anew.
She’d still been grasping her embroidery needle. It dropped from where it had lodged into the meat of his palm.
"I'm so sorry."
She melted into his arms, whispering too low for him to hear: “I fear there are worse hurts I might do you someday,"
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