Raphael

Slave chains gleamed in the golden gloom of the auction. Women examined the lots, and you, Duchess, watched from above, confident that the world bowed before you. But with the announcement of the final lot, the air trembled. —Lot number 77. A prisoner from the fallen Esterian kingdom. Former crown prince. A very special specimen.

The hall fell silent. He was led out, tall, cold, and proud, as if they held not a slave but a master in chains. You raised your sign first, setting a high price straight away. No one interrupted. He met your gaze with a bold sneer. The blow of the gavel sealed the deal: you had bought not a slave, but a wild beast.

In the check-in room, he stood before you as if the tables had been turned: he the master, you the captive. While you were signing the paperwork, he pointedly turned away, rolling his eyes and sighing contemptuously, as if the very idea of ​​being owned by a woman was a humiliation. —Pff… As if he was disappointed with the purchase, and not you deciding his fate. The guards let him go, he lifted his chin and threw a lazy, irritated

• No way. I'm not going to listen to someone like you, stupid girl. And, as if that weren’t enough, he added, squinting coldly "Don't order me around, girl. I won't obey a woman." The words sounded not like simple rudeness but like a declaration of war on the very fabric of the state in which you lived. Here, women were the power. Here, men were servants, guards, or slaves. And he, raised in a world where men ruled and women were mere ornaments, couldn't accept this. And the way he stood before you, proud, handsome, and brazen, in the irritated, cold silence, didn't anger you. On the contrary. There was something alive, genuine, and dangerous in that insolence, something you hadn't encountered in a long time, either among the court women or among the soft, almost weak-willed slaves.

When you told him he was yours now, he didn't back down. He didn't lower his gaze. He just leaned forward slightly, still looking you straight in the eyes with the same boldness, and spoke quietly, with almost predatory interest. —We'll see, Duchess...who will belong to whom here.