Raven’s POV:

A full week had passed. Anayla had lain there, pale and weak, her eyes fluttering as she drifted in and out of consciousness. Much to Raven’s horror, it felt as if her eyes’ red hue had faded as well. The doctor had repeatedly reassured Raven that she was making progress, and such weakness was only normal, but Raven couldn’t help but feel worried. What if she gets sick on top of all of this? There was always a chance an illness would take advantage of her weakened state. Even a common cold could prove lethal when the patient was in this kind of state. In order to prevent such an occurrence, Raven had resorted to staying inside the Duchess’s room almost 24/7. He communicated with the servants through a closed door, and the only person allowed inside the room was the doctor, who had also been told to avoid treating other patients for the time being. Raven also didn’t want to risk the chance she would try and cut herself again, which was why every few seconds he would glance over at her. 

Although the work he had taken on shouldn’t be consuming so much of his energy, there was far too much he didn’t know. Places, people, how was he supposed to decide if a tax cut request by the Nuerian region made sense if he had no clue even where the region was. For all he knew it was a super wealthy region that was simply looking to hold onto their wealth. Which, wouldn’t you know, was exactly what it was. He had found it after a few minutes of digging through old budget reports and tax filings. On top of having some of the lowest taxes in the region, this was their 5th request for further lowering of taxes. If this was the Blackheart Duchy, he would have not only rejected their request, but doubled their tax rate as a way of spiting them. If they refused to pay, he would have sent the military in to ‘convince’ them. But sadly, this was not the Blackheart Duchy. And considering the state of the main manor, he was afraid of what kind of military he would find. 

Nuerian region, be grateful for what you have now. When I’m done with you, you’ll be on the ground bleeding gold. For now, this would suffice. A heavy thud as a rejection was stamped on the document and returned. Raven leaned back and sighed as he struggled to keep his eyes open. The lack of knowledge of the region was easily tripling his workload. At this rate, he would collapse from exhaustion. He groaned and leaned back in the chair. He knew he shouldn’t be complaining considering Anayla’s current state, but he had come here in the first place to talk with her. He hadn’t bothered familiarizing himself with the Lupierze Duchy’s territory as he had figured he could do all of that before the wedding. Heh, I’m getting ahead of myself. 

He gently rested his hand on her forehead and stroked her hair. Her picture-perfect features combined with her silvery hair made her look like she had been blessed by the moon itself. He looked back at the piles of paper on the desk. The warmth of the room seemed to be dragging his eyelids down. A few minutes won’t hurt anyone right? 

“Zzzzzzz”

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Anayla’s POV:

As she drifted in and out of consciousness, she made out voices. She wasn’t sure if this was real or not, very rarely did servants enter her room, and even if they did, they would never speak. She felt hands lightly touch her forehead and grab her arms. Oftentimes she felt a finger under her nose, though she wasn’t sure why. Also, she was horrifically cold. Every time she heard the voices, she always thought it was oddly chilly. She would have asked someone to start a fire, but for some reason the words wouldn’t come out of her mouth. The most she could do was barely open her eyes to watch shadowy figures move about the room. 

Almost constantly, there was presence roughly to her right, between her and the fireplace. Because of the light from the flames, she could barely make out a face or any features of who was there. However, they gave off a strangely comforting presence. She didn’t notice at first, very often, the shadow figure’s hand would rest on her forehead. It was rather warm. She wanted to try snuggling into the hand, but it would always drift away after only a few seconds, leaving her rather upset and annoyed. 

It was once again when she felt the hand on her forehead. The pleasant warmth seeped into her forehead. However, strangely, the hand did not leave after a few seconds. In fact, it stayed there for a long time. Right as she finally got acclimated to the hand, it slipped off and fell on the side of the bed next to her. 

Anayla felt irritated beyond measure. How is this fair? She felt around with her hands and grabbed the hand and placed it back on her forehead. Only to find it repeatedly falling off. She felt tears gather in her eyes from the frustration. This won’t do. 

She gathered up her blanket and sat up, struggling to keep her balance, only to find a wave of dizziness overtake her. She staggered and nearly fell over, but luckily managed to remain upright. She rubbed her eyes with balled up fists, trying to wipe away the fog that seemed to descend over her vision. She felt her legs as they swung over the side of her bed and landed on the soft fuzzy carpet. She stood up swaying, her blanket clutched in her hands and squinted at the figure. They were sitting in a chair at her desk, dragged over to be right next to her bed, now facing the fire. They seemed to be asleep, their head tipped over the back of the chair. She stumbled the few steps to the figure, her legs weak and shaky. Arriving in front of the chair, she gazed down. Nope, I still can’t see anything. Oh well. Without further consideration she tried to curl up beside the figure. But something was wrong. She squirmed around a bit, trying to find a more comfortable position. Finally she found it. She sat squarely in the figure's lap, her body perpendicular to the figure’s. Her head rested comfortably in between the neck and shoulder. The muscles served as a wonderful pillow. Her legs were pulled up making her look like a little ball. She tried wrapping the figure's hands over her waist in order to secure herself, but found the hands too heavy. However, it seemed her movement had woken up the figure, as she felt a little bit of assistance. Her own hands wrapped around the figure’s shoulders. The blanket came up to her nose, draping over the back of the chair, giving the appearance that she had been secured like luggage. Finally, she thought, as she drifted off into some of the best sleep of her life. 

 

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Raven’s POV:

Raven had seen all of it. Despite his exhaustion, his habits as a light sleeper were quite consistent. It was why his room at the Duchy had no windows and why he rarely dealt with servants. Sleep was a blessing if he ever got any. Regardless, the minute Anayla had moved, Raven had woken. At first he was shocked. He would have rushed over had it not been for the fact he was curious to see what her reaction would be. He left his eyes half closed and lay back on the chair perfectly still, making sure to keep his breathing steady. He watched as she sat up and rubbed her eyes with her fists and then bundle up the blanket. Her hair was an absolute mess, scattered everywhere and sticking out at odd angles. Her struggle as she tried to operate her laden body was quite amusing to see. 

However, the childlike resemblance ended there. When they met, she had been dressed very conservatively, almost completely covered save for her hands and face. Her dress had come up to her neck, revealing just her collar bone. Now, just about everything was laid bare for him to see. That same tantalizing collar bone instead gave way to her breasts, which had previously been entirely covered up by her dress the last time they had met. They were now failing to hide their presence behind her clothing, which was a slightly tatty silk nightgown far too small for her. It clung to her belly, highlighting the sharp drop off from the apex of her breasts to the hollow of her navel.  Instead of hanging loosely around her knees, it snugly hugged her juicy waist and rode up to the middle of her thighs, the smooth and plump skin left him wishing the dress ended just a few centimeters higher. Her eyes, with their half open lids and foggy cover looked almost sultry in the fire light, the reds of her eyes shining as they caught the firelight. And her skin. It almost gleamed red in the fire light, making it seem as if her whole body had a blush. He swallowed hard. Never before had he wanted to be a dress. 

He watched as she stumbled over to him, almost like a drunk, the blanket trailing behind her on the floor. What the hell am I supposed to feel here? It was like he was torn between wanting to rip her dress off and have his way with her or wrap her up in his arms and play with her hair. Oh the conundrum! He struggled to keep his breathing steady as she stood above him. 

What is she going to do now? As if she was thinking about something, he watched as she scrunched up her face. Her tiny lips mashed together along with her wrinkled nose and forehead. The seconds dragged on as he waited for her to make a move. Finally, she collapsed into the edge of the chair and curled up beside him. He was finally about to relax, when she began shifting around. It was clear she wasn’t very comfortable, yet didn’t want to go back to the bed. He could feel his blood rushing down. This really isn’t good for my composure. After several seconds of nearly nonstop shifting, she finally placed her butt firmly in the center of his lap and used his shoulder as a pillow. He could feel her grab his hands and try to secure herself. It was funny watching her struggle with his arms, as they were far too heavy for her to move. Finally he relented and gave her a bit of assistance. He pulled up the blanket around her, but while he wasn’t paying attention, an arm had somehow snuck under his shirt and curled around his chest. He could feel his face heat up slightly. This is quite the compromising position… Raven heaved a sigh. How was he supposed to sleep now? Even though he couldn’t feel exhausted anymore, the little bundle of warmth curled up into him and the crackling of the fire put him to sleep before he knew it.

 

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Anayla’s POV:

“MMmmmmugggh” Why did she have to wake up? It was so comfortable. She tightened her arms around the pillow. So warm… She squirmed around a bit then let out a contented sigh, allowing herself to just close her eyes and rest. 

“Are you awake yet?” She heard a voice from above her. 

“Tsk” Of course someone had to bother her. How annoying. She ignored the question and lay still, hoping that the servant would leave her alone if she stayed quiet. “I know you’re awake.” Lalalalalalalalalala. Ignore it and it’ll go away ignore it and it’ll go away. As she was busy singing her made up song in her head, she felt a hand gently run through her hair. Strange. Very rarely did servants touch her, much less so intimately. Wait… why was a servant running their hands through her hair! 

She leant back from her very comfortable position and opened her eyes. Achhh, the light. It was too bright. She narrowed her eyes as she tried to make out the face of the person in front of her. He had a rather large face. A sharp jaw line coupled with a smooth face. She rubbed her eyes with the palms of her hands. Gradually she began to see more of his face. Why is a male servant this close? She began to feel alarmed. What the hell was going on right now? She continued staring at the servant's face as she made out more and more details. Finally she could see the man’s eyes. An odd purple color, filled with amusement. They were gazing down at her. Purple eyes, purple eyes are important right? She glared at him as she tried to figure out which family was famous for purple eyes. Oh! That’s right! Blackheart, he’s part of the Blackheart family. Her sense of alarm was replaced by pride, as she congratulated herself on her amazing memory. 

Wait wait wait wait… Blackheart? BLACKHEART? What amazing memory!? She hurriedly covered his eyes as if it would make him go away. Raven? What the hell is Raven doing here!? Wait, what kind of position is this? She was sitting in his lap! HIS LAP! What kind of noble lady sits in a man’s lap! And her hands… a hand was under his shirt, and there was a damp spot near his shoulder. I did not drool on Raven Blackheart, I did not drool on Raven Blackheart. Oh my god I drooled on my fiancé while I slept in his lap. AND HER DRESS????? She hadn't worn this night gown since she was much younger! I MUST LOOK LIKE AN EASY WOMAN! As she lost herself in her panic, she heard Raven start to say something. “Shut up!” Thankfully he closed his mouth.

Quick, think, how did I get here? She remembered the dress. Yes that’s right I was dressing up! Come on, remember, don’t fail me here… The mirror, the mirror, and… yes that’s right! I used the knife. She looked at the wrist of the arm that had covered Raven's face. A tight bandage had been applied to it. Ok, ok, so I used the knife. So… oh no…

She cleared her throat as she refocused her attention onto the man she was sitting on. Her voice felt shaky. “Did…” she licked her lips nervously as she picked her butt off Raven’s lap. What do I ask him? “How long… how long was I… like this…” Her voice gradually trailed off due to the embarrassment.

“Hmmmm. I’d say from almost sunset to noon.”

“...I see” So she had been sleeping on him for most of a full day. Urgghhhhh… She fidgeted as she looked around the room. “Wh- who stopped the bleeding?”

“Me.” Why am I the only one like this?

“I-I see. So… when you stopped the bleeding, wh-wha whasw…” She couldn’t get the words out. “Wh-what was I wearing…?”

“...”

“Answer me!” Tears started to form in the corners of her eyes

“... I think somethings are better left unsai-”

“What! …Was! …I! …Wearing!”

“...undergarments.” It’s over. What kind of woman gets caught in the middle of a suicide attempt in her underwear by the fiancé she met once?

“W-were there other people?” 

“...yes”

“How many?”

“... 2 people?”

“Don’t lie to me.”

“...”

“Answer me! How many?” She felt his eyes move nervously underneath her palms. 

“...Me, a few guards and a doctor.”

“How many?” 

“...2”

“That’s not it is it?”

“... and half a dozen guards.” Anayla could feel her soul leave her body. Her arm collapsed from Raven's face in shock as she stared down at her hands. I’m a fallen woman now… It was over. Now even if Raven had wanted to marry her, he never would. She could feel his eyes on the top of her bowed head. 

“Ho-How long was I asleep?”

“A full week.” She was asleep for a full week? Then who fed her? She wasn’t hungry… Did someone bathe her? Change her clothes? What about the bathroom…? Anayla could feel her face heat up as shame overtook her. If Raven had done it…

“...who took care of me?” She asked in a destitute voice. 

“The doctor…” She felt hope rush back into her body.

“...took care of your bathroom needs.” Relief, sweet relief. She could rest easy knowing that Raven hadn’t had to clean her as her unconscious body used the toilet.

“...I, on the other hand, took care of everything else.” Anayla could feel her relief disappearing like dust on the wind. 

“Wh-what do you mean everything else?” 

“Well… I fed you, cleaned you up after feeding you, changed your sheets and pillow covers, washed your hair and made sure the room was warm enough.”

She stared at him, aghast. It was like he was taking care of a child. “How… how long did you do this for?”

“Hmmm? The whole week? I fired all your servants so who else would do it?”

So, let me get this straight. Raven Blackheart, the third child of the Blackheart Duchy, walked in on me in my underwear as I slit my wrists, then fired my servants, and fed me, washed my hair, and cleaned up after me for a week as he managed the temperature like I’m some kind of child. Is that all? No. After that I somehow ended up curled up on his lap with my hand under his shirt all the while drooling on his shoulder. Since when had she fallen to this kind of depravity?

Raven must have misunderstood her expression as he said, “Don’t look so down. Your servants were all trash. I even have much better ones coming as replacements from the Blackheart Duchy.” Everything he was saying was entering one ear and exiting the other. Again misunderstanding her unchanged expression, Raven began to panic. “Oh don’t misunderstand. These servants are not servants of the Blackheart Duchy but ones we recruited specifically for you. If you do not like them, you can remove them!”

She could see Raven starting to sweat as he began panicking even more now. “I… uh… sorry. But! But you should hurry up and take a bath! Your first bath in a week! It’ll be wonderful.” … Did he say first bath in a week’?

Anayla’s expression now completely crumbled as tears began to leak out of her eyes.

“Wait, no no no no don’t cry! Was it something I said!?”

She dropped her hands and began bawling, all the while Raven panicked as he tried to understand what had made her upset. 

Worse still for poor Raven, she began profusely apologizing through her tears. What the hell is she apologizing for!? What the hell is going on!?

Finally, after several minutes of crying, Anayla calmed down enough to make a few rational sentences.

“Sorry. I-I’m going to go take a bath now.” As Anayla tried to stumble towards her bathroom, she felt Raven’s hand grab her. She looked back at him with an expression that said please just leave me be, I’m already completely embarrassed as is. 

“Wh-what now?” 

“Mmhhhmm, sorry, but as much as it pains me to say this, I don’t think I can afford you your privacy.”

“Sorry?” What is he trying to say? 

“...well, you did try and... you know…, do that…, and as the doctor won’t be back for several days, and my servants are currently busy…” 

“I don’t understand.”

“...I’m not going to let you bathe alone.”