You Think I Won't Talk?

’Don’t panic now, you b*tch!!..... Cute b*tch(?)... Idiot(?)... Look, Marianne, if it’s me who insults myself, this should be fine. Also, disclaimer, I meant b*tch in the coward sense, not in the sluty sense.’ — The over-expressive woman told her body’s owner, feeling the reproaching dark turmoil Marianne was sending through their bond, in displeasure at the deprecating vocabulary the outgoing woman had used.

Her sudden attack on her delicate cheeks had been a measure to placate the emerging shame as she imagined the vision the Prince must have seen when the miraculous words she managed to speak were said.

It was not a time she could permit another embarrassment to become a struggle to continue their meeting. The Lady was wide awake and she would not allow herself to weaken again in front of the sly Crown Prince...

For she knew he would take advantage... And make things difficult again.

’It’s fine. The d*mn thing is called a "condition" for a reason. We can’t expect it to be perfect from the get-go.’ — She told herself.

Her soul’s accurate rationale was the greatest weapon her experience grants her. The analysis was truthful and modest. Her appreciation was level-headed; and so... Calmness steadily flowed through her, causing the mind of the child to start working frigidly and calculating without her knowledge.

’Right... Alright. It’s not worth the worry.’

"... Lady Marianne? What in the world–"

Zeleskiaz watched her in shock as her hands were slowly lowered as tranquillity invaded her.

Searching to lock gazes with her once more to see what had caused such appaling action... from the side... The Crown Prince saw a gruesome sight no one had ever witnessed besides Paul.

Dead eyes... Those that not even the original child portrayed before the foreigner’s arrival. Ones crudely devoid of light and her lovely life... Eyes she unconsciously invoked to fight the frightening nights with composure and to protect her psyche from crumbling into the pain she desperately needed to avoid.

"Lady Marianne, what has–... Turn to me."