The house was in a state of chaos. Maids were running left and right, and Tinea was primarily left alone. Which was good. Preferred, even. She needed to be left alone if this was going to work.

She had been shoved into a neat smock, red this time, and she had her bag with her riding clothes. She couldn’t risk changing before her escape, because someone would surely stop her and ask why she wasn’t presentable for Lord Father to return, so she would have to just go like this. Really, she knew she was going to get caught. That wasn’t an issue. In actuality, she just wanted to cause problems. She wanted to make as many problems as possible for the family that had abandoned her to her fate twice, and her blood lust hadn’t been slaked by her last life.

Well. It had. But, now she just wanted to cause as many problems as possible.

It had been a month since she arrived here, and she was ready to be branded as the rebellious brat she had always been so scared to behave as. So, here she was, walking through the long, wide open halls of the summer estate, bag over her shoulder and ready to escape. Maids were rushing all over the place, doing last minute cleans, generally just being busy, and no one was paying attention to her. She smiled quietly to herself as she made her way outside, towards the stable.

It was completely unattended when she stepped inside. She was alone and grateful for it. The stablehand had to be busy in the house, being used for hard labor. The stablemaster was gone, too. With a hop in her step, she made her way to Molly and looked up at the horse before she climbed on the wall separating the stalls and crawled on top of her. It was too much difficulty to get a saddle on her, so Tinea would be going it bareback.

She led her out of the stable, and then she immediately urged her into a gallop. Shouts echoed from behind her as she rode hard, Molly’s hooves thundering on the dirt, and they hit the pasture. Molly sailed over the fence easily, and Tinea landed hard on her back. Molly tore through the pasture, running free and clear, happy as could be as she kicked it up into a speed Tinea had not even thought her capable of, and men behind them shouted and called for her to stop.

Tinea didn’t care. Molly sailed over the final fence, and then they were on the trail, thundering over the dirt and pounding towards the road. The carriage should have reached the house by now. Tinea had timed it exactly. She let out a whoop as her hair streamed behind her, and Molly snorted, breathing hard as she galloped down the trail.

Tinea could see the road just ahead, but a magic circle lit up right at the junction. A figure formed, and before she even realized what was happening, Molly reared up in terror. Tinea fought to stay seated, immediately considering her options. Should she do cancelation, or should she hide her magic? If she had a full blown magical battle with her brother, she may not win. She hadn’t caught up to him yet in terms of power. She would lose, and she couldn’t afford to lose.

All of these thoughts went through her mind as Molly screamed in terror, bucking in pure fear, and she abruptly decided she didn’t want to deal with Ivan. Ivan was too annoying.

An invisible hand swept her up and dangled her in the air, and she yelped and pulled down her skirt so her modesty was preserved. Before the figure even finished forming, she was caught in a spell, and honestly, Elric was a magical prodigy, but this was a bit much.

“Well, I thought you’d do something like that,” he said as he stepped out of the teleportation circle, a chain of magic around his wrist as he approached her. Molly stopped rearing and trotted off, and he caught her by the halter and held her in place as the magic circle behind him faded.

“Put me down,” Tinea hissed, and he grinned at her wickedly. He was the spitting image of his father, black hair and red eyes, pale skin, deathly pale in a way that was borderline unattractive.

“No,” he said, high and mocking, and she drifted after him on a curtain of air as he led the horse back down the long trail.

“This isn’t a good look,” she said as she drifted along behind him, and he looked back at her before his eyes landed on her bruised shins, betrayed by the slipping stockings.

“... What is this?” he asked, and oh, the butler hadn’t written this time. That was new. She inhaled slowly, let it all out, and then she glared at him as that age old hurt rose up.

“Welts, obviously,” she spat out, knowing damn well he had no way of knowing and not caring anyway.

Elric was very, very still, staring at the bruises on her shins, and then he turned and continued walking.

“You have to present yourself to Father,” he said, and looked back at the bruises. “I do hope you can behave.”

So, he wasn’t going to say anything? That was fine. He never did. Never a ‘that shouldn’t have happened to you’. Never a ‘she’ll be punished’. Never anything.

It was the same old story. Not a care or ounce of comfort or warmth for Tinea, because that wasn’t how this family showed affection. No, they showed affection through blatant murder. Honestly, why was she born into such a messed up family, and why could she never escape it? It was frustrating.

It was so frustrating.

She wanted to be free.

….

Tinea knocked on the study door, and there was a long pause before a voice rang out.

“Enter,” came a smooth, cultured voice she hated as much as she loved.

Tinea steeled her heart. She was really just a girl, at the end of the day, desperate for her father to love her. She was lost, seeking guidance, and she didn’t want it to be like this. She did not want it to be like this.

She was hurt, and she was suffering. She had begged with him, pleaded with him to love her more for three lifetimes, and the sting of her fourth life hadn’t faded. She didn’t want to enter. She didn’t want to face him. She knew what she was capable of, and she didn’t want to feed into that side of her. She had had five years to come to terms with what she had done, and she…

She opened the door and stepped in.

Marquis Dominic Insitor was a dangerous looking man. Black hair, slicked back from his face, with piercing red eyes, dressed in fine clothes that he wore like a panther’s coat. He looked like a villain, and she was over aware of all the traits she had inherited from her mother. Her pink eyes. Her gray hair. The scar on her lip she always knew was a mark against her.

She always felt small in his presence, even after four lifetimes. He had that particular quality that reduced everyone in the room to a gnat, and that went doubly so for his illegitimate daughter.

“Tinea,” he said as his eyes roved over her. They lingered on her shins, and then he looked up at her face. “Come here.”

Tinea approached him with trepidation, and he put his chin in his fist and studied her.

“What to do with you…” he hummed, and Tinea stared at him in silence. “What should I do with you?”

“Leave me alone, preferably,” she replied, and his eyes landed on the bruises on her shins again.

“Who hit you?” he asked simply, and she was silent.

“You could ask the maids.”

“Ah, but I’m asking you,” he said, and she thought about staring at the ground, but she hadn’t survived four lifetimes, sort of, without being able to look her father in the eye.

“Countess Amalia,” she reported, and he studied her in silence. It was uncomfortable, pressuring, and he turned back to his work after a beat.

“Return to your room and wait there until dinner,” he said, and she pursed her lips.

“No,” she said, and he lifted his head.

“No?” he echoed, and she turned on her heel and marched for the door.

“No, I’m going to the garden,” she said, opened the door, and walked right out. She felt his eyes linger on her, and she shut the door behind herself. A long breath escaped her lips, and when she closed her eyes, she saw nothing but a chest cavity, split open, with moths steadily eating away a heart.

She turned and walked down the stairs, heading for the garden, and Fran hustled to catch up with her.

“My lady?” she asked, and Tinea pushed open the glass doors that led out into the garden.

“I’ll take my tea in the garden today,” she announced, and Fran blinked, probably because she had expected Tinea to be quarantined in her room for her stunt today.

“Yes, my lady,” she said, dropped into a curtsy, and hurried off. Tinea walked out amongst the flowers and buzzing insects and breathed in the scent of the garden, tilting back her head and turning her face up to the sun.

She could be a fourth ring in two years. She would escape for sure that time, so she could have some actual fun at the magic tower. With a sigh, she walked through the garden, heading for the gazebo by the pond so she could wait for her tea. Her hands stuck in her pockets, she strolled through the garden, taking a meandering route rather than going straight for the gazebo, and she walked over the little bridge over the stream in the garden. She stopped at the top of it and studied the fish slipping past beneath it, leaning on the banister with her chin in her hand.

“There you are,” came an irritating, familiar voice, and she turned to face her eldest brother, Beau. He was standing there in silence, and she studied him in silence. In her first life, she had practically begged for him to love her. In her next lives, she hadn’t cared. And he had never shown all that much care, either.

“Mm,” was her only response, and then she turned back to studying the fish in the stream. A particularly fat one drifted past, and she wondered if anyone took care of them, or if they fended for themselves. They were looking a little plump to be fending for themselves.

“That’s not an appropriate hello to your brother,” Beau said, and she blinked at him.

“Oh,” she said with a laugh, “I don’t care.”

Beau stared at her in disbelief, and she turned back to watch the fish drift past. Beau stepped up to the bridge and studied them in silence, trying to figure out what was so interesting about them when he was right there, and Tinea sighed.

“I should manage expectations right now,” she said and turned to him. “I don’t want to be your friend or beloved little sister. I don’t want to idolize you, and I don’t want to chase at you, begging for affection you will never give to an illegitimate child. Does that work for you?”

Beau stared at her in shock, and she gave him a bright smile.

“Glad we got that sorted out,” she said cheerfully, and turned to walk off, and he seized her by the arm.

“Are you so determined to hate us?” he asked in disbelief, and she smiled at him faintly.

“Oh, I don’t hate you all. I simply don’t care,” she replied, and he stared at her with genuine hurt in his eyes. “My tea is nearly here, so I’m going to take it now.”

With that, she pulled her arm out of his grip and flounced off, feeling better than she had in a while.

She would never be truly loved by them. Not when it counted, so what did it matter what she did? She was tired of playing along. She would win her freedom this time, just in time for her death, and then the cycle would reset, and she would content herself to spending her eternal short, miserable life having as much fun as feasibly possible.

It was fine. It was perfectly fine.

She didn’t need the Inistor family.

And they didn’t need her.