Battle For The Crown

"All men must die, but we are not men"

~ Natalia Dashkov ~

As Natalia sat down at Lord Dragomir's table she scowled. Lord Fenrir Dragomir was not a very pleasing man to look at.

Lord Fenrir had crooked yellow teeth and hair past his shoulders with a horrible face covered in warts and pounds of anti-aging treatments made by the Belles.

Amber Dragomir was one of the Lord's daughters, fair skinned and fair haired with delicate features. Much like Arya Stark from Game of Thrones. And then there was Ian Dragomir.

Ian. Oh the way Ian's lips curved into a smirk and a smile.

"I hear Lady Natalia Dashkov has been searched for as Madame Lorelei's apprentice," Amber piped up.

Natalia rolled her eyes. "Yes," she whispered in response to Amber. "I was. And Madam Lorelei regretted it," Natalia whispered tucking a loose strand of white blonde hair behind her ear.

Ian did that weird lip quirk he called a laugh. "I can't imagine why," Ian said in a low voice. Natalia's lips curved up in a smile.

"Madam Lorelei thought I could help her with a small task such as designing Vasilissa Córdova's wedding dress," Natalia began. "And she thought that perhaps I could help her stitch the hems and sleeves," Natalia finished.

"So did you?" Ian asked amused. Ian wanted to pull a Queen Victoria and say we are not amused but decided otherwise.

"No," Natalia replied. "She was horrified by my lack of coordination," Natalia said.

Lord Fenrir's wife's laugh echoed through the grand room. "Really? Well Lady Natalia I never suspected lack of coordination from you, you always make the target in the archery tournaments," Lady Grasiela Dragomir said with a smile.

"Oh?" Natalia said with a flush. Which was true, Natalia always made the target. Ian studied the girl. She was decent looking.

Pale and white skinned he could only imagine the things he could do to her.

“Oh, Natalia, what I could do to you,” Ian whispered, as images of her writhing beneath him in the playroom flash through his mind: shackled to his four-poster bed, bent over the table—suspended from the cross. He could tease and torture her until she begged for release…the images make his pants even tighter.

Natalia looked to him with a bite of her lower lip. Ian got up abruptly and then left the table. He did not enjoy the vivid images of Natalia being fucked by him in his mind.