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Trapped III

The room seemed to pulse with anticipation as Absinthya uncorked the decanter, the rich aroma of aged wine filling the air. The liquid poured into the goblets like molten rubies, reflecting the unsettling dance of shadows around the room.

She turned to face Rohan, holding the goblets in her hands as if they were sacred relics. Her eyes met Rohan’s with an intense look. With a wicked smile, she approached him, her every step echoing with the quiet confidence of a predator in pursuit of its prey.

“A toast to unexpected revelations,” she murmured, her voice a velvet caress that sent shivers down Rohan’s spine. She extended one goblet towards him, the rich aroma of the wine mingling with the subtle fragrance that permeated her.

Reluctantly, he accepted the glass, the cool touch of crystal a stark contrast to the warmth of her gaze.

Rohan’s eyes bore into hers, guarded and vigilant, as he brought the wine to his lips.

Undeterred by his defensive stance, Absinthya walked over to the chair and sat down. The blood-red liquid swirled within the crystal as she took a deliberate sip, her eyes never leaving his. She reclined in the ornate chair, her gown of black and red spilling around her like a pool of ink and blood. It hugged her curves in all the right places, and the plunging neckline revealed more than enough to tempt him. But Rohan refused to be tempted. He refused to be her toy.

As Absinthya’s intense gaze lingered on him, the room seemed to close in, setting his nerves on edge as he settled into the plush armchair, the goblet of wine cradled in his hand.

He decided to get straight to the point, questioning her about the supposed political issue, though he already suspected there was no such thing. “You summoned me for a political matter, didn’t you?” he questioned, the words a carefully veiled accusation.

Absinthya, however, seemed more fascinated by the way the candlelight danced on the crystal than by any political matters. She sipped her wine with a lazy grace, a smile tugging at her lips. “Politics, Rohan. Such a boring subject, don’t you agree? Tonight, let’s focus on more… intimate matters,” she purred, her eyes dancing with a dangerous glint.

Rohan shifted in his seat, fighting the urge to flinch. He played his part, though every fiber of his being screamed in protest. He hated the games she played, the way she wielded her sensuality like a weapon. Every touch, every glance, sent shivers of revulsion down his spine. But he needed to endure it for the sake of his court, his friends.

“You seem troubled, Rohan,” The queen observed, swirling the wine in her glass with deliberate slowness. “Is the weight of our world bearing down on those broad shoulders?”

His gaze remained guarded, fingers tracing the stem of his goblet. “I’ve grown accustomed to the burdens, my queen. They’re a constant companion.”

Absinthya rose gracefully from her seat, her movements like a seductive dance as she approached him. She lowered herself beside him, a predatory glint in her eyes. “Yet, tonight, you seem more burdened than usual. Is there something on your mind, or is it …someone?”

Rohan placed his goblet on the small table beside him, his gaze still guarded. “It’s no one,” he replied curtly, perhaps a bit too quickly, raising Absinthya’s suspicion.

A sly smile played on Absinthya’s lips. “Aerin,” she mused, swirling the wine in her glass. “I think you have a soft spot for my niece.”

Rohan’s expression remained stoic, but his eyes betrayed a flicker of unease. “What are you talking about?”

Absinthya leaned closer, her voice a sultry whisper. “I saw how you looked at her in Ereglond, how you spared the elf to save her from suffering.”

Rohan scoffed at her insinuation, the tension in the room escalating with every passing moment. “Aerin is the daughter of my enemy. There’s nothing more to it,” he declared, his voice firm, though it carried an underlying edge.

The queen lowered her goblet to the floor with deliberate intent, the sound echoing through the room like a sinister prelude. “Prove it, Rohan,” she purred, her voice dripping with dark allure. Her hands began their exploration, gliding over his chest. “Is it her you think of when the night is darkest, and your thoughts are your own?”

The scent of her perfume filled the air, but to Rohan, it was nothing but a suffocating miasma. “You’re mistaken,” he retorted, trying to distance himself from the unwanted advances. “That girl is insufferable,” he said, his voice strained as if trying to convince himself. Deep down, he knew there was more to it, but he wasn’t ready to confront those feelings.

Absinthya smirked, sensing his inner turmoil. She leaned closer to him, her lips brushing against his earlobe. “I don’t know if I believe you,” she whispered, her breath hot on his skin. She slid her hand under his tunic, feeling his muscular chest and tracing the edge of his tattoo. Rohan flinched, his body tensing up. He hated her touch, but he had no choice. He had to play along, or face the consequences.

The room felt like it was closing in, the air was becoming suffocating. Rohan’s mind revolted against the physical contact, a visceral repulsion coursing through him.

Absinthya’s lips trailed along the line of his neck, her every move a calculated dance. Her voice a sultry whisper. “Rohan, is it her face that invades your mind as you touch yourself in the quiet of the night? Do you fantasize about her when your hands roam, seeking solace in the dark?” Her words were a deliberate provocation, an attempt to incite a response from the High Lord.

Rohan’s jaw clenched, the repulsion now mingled with irritation. “Absinthya…”

The queen persisted, her lips dangerously close to his ear. “Do you dream of her, Rohan? Do you yearn for her touch, her warmth against your skin?” Her fingers traced patterns on his chest, the intent clear.

Rohan’s restraint wavered, a flicker of frustration in his eyes. He took a steadying breath, trying to ground himself amidst the unsettling storm. “This isn’t the game we need to play,” he countered, attempting to deflect her advances.

As Absinthya continued her relentless advance, she leaned in further, her lips dangerously close to the corner of Rohan’s mouth. Her breath, laden with a subtle hint of wine, caressed his neck as she whispered, “Or is it, Rohan? The game of desires and secrets, where the truth lies beneath the surface. Tell me, do you desire her as much as you deny it?” Her words, like a siren’s call, hung in the air, a challenge masked in seduction.

As Absinthya’s fingers deftly moved towards his belt, Rohan’s hands gripped the arms of the chair, his knuckles whitening with the effort to endure the torment. He felt the urge to succumb, to let the façade crumble. In the recesses of his mind, a mantra echoed – “Be strong, Rohan. Be strong.”

But when she began to undo his pants, Rohan’s restraint shattered. His hands shot out, gripping her wrist with a strength born of indignation.“No,” he said, his voice shaking. It was an automatic response, a rebellion against the violation of his boundaries. He had endured her unwanted advances for months, but tonight something was different.

“No?” Absinthya shot him an interrogative look, her irritation clear. “What’s gotten into you tonight?” she demanded.

Rohan, his jaw clenched, struggled to find the right words, but before he could respond, Absinthya stood up abruptly, her anger evident. He almost sighed with relief, thinking the ordeal was over. As she moved, he quickly adjusted his pants and closed his belt with a sharp click.

Absinthya’s expression twisted into a mask of rage. “You can’t refuse me,” she hissed. “Must I remind you of the agreement we have? You belong to me! ” she added, her tone low and threatening. “Your court, your friends – they’re in my hands. Don’t test my patience, Rohan.”

A subtle tremor coursed through Rohan, a cocktail of frustration, anger, and the helpless realization that the chains of the agreement still bound him. The small, pulsating purple crystal around Absinthya’s neck seemed to mock him, a silent witness to the struggle he faced.

Rohan’s gaze hardened, determination sparking in his eyes. “Our agreement did not involve this, Absinthya,” he declared, his voice laced with a steel resolve. The line had been crossed a long time ago.

Absinthya’s laughter, cold and devoid of empathy, echoed through the room. “Oh, Rohan, my dear High Lord,” she taunted, a twisted smile playing on her lips. “Agreements, especially those with someone like me, are bound to evolve. Consider this a… modification.”

Rohan erupted from his seat, his expression a storm of fury, shadows swirling around him in a menacing dance. Dark tendrils of power, began to swirl threateningly around Absinthya. But instead of fear, she released a disdainful laugh, the sound echoing through the tension-laden air. She found his anger amusing. “What do you think you’re doing?” she mocked. “Forgot that most of your power is mine?” She lazily raised both arms as if dismissing a minor inconvenience, and the shadows dissipated. “Consider this a friendly reminder, Rohan. The leash may have slackened a bit, but don’t think for a moment that it’s been cut.”

Rohan’s fists clenched, the gravity of his situation sinking in. The silent struggle against the sneaky grip of their agreement intensified, leaving him standing there, seething with a mixture of frustration and impotent rage.

“But tonight, I’m feeling quite generous,” she declared, a strange smile playing on her lips. There was an unsettling air about her, a strange glint in her eyes that hinted at something beyond the surface. “Especially after receiving some delightful news.”

With that, she turned on her heel, her movements graceful and calculated, heading toward a table to retrieve another glass. Rohan’s eyes bore into her back, a tempest of fury brewing below his facade. The image of breaking the chains that bound him to her, of bringing an end to her oppressive rule, played vividly in his thoughts.

 “I should snap her neck and be done with it. End this madness once and for all. But no, that would be too easy for her. She deserves to suffer, to feel every ounce of pain she’s inflicted on others. How many lives has she destroyed? How many more will she ruin before she’s done?”

As she filled her glass, his thoughts continued to swirl with the shadows of vengeance and hatred. The room felt too small, the weight of his fury pressing against the confines of his composure. He clenched his fists, as if to anchor himself against the rising storm within.

“One day, I’ll make her pay. No matter the cost. No matter what it takes. I’ll see her brought to justice for every life she’s tainted, for every soul she’s shattered.”

He took a steadying breath, his eyes closing momentarily to quell the anger threatening to consume him. The sound of her pouring the wine filled the room, but in Rohan’s mind, a different symphony played – one of rebellion, of liberation. When he opened them again, he was taken aback to find that the figure before him had changed.

It wasn’t Absinthya standing there anymore, but Aerin. A vision of beauty, smiling at him, holding a filled wine glass.

Rohan’s shock was palpable as he gazed at the unexpected vision before him. The room seemed to shift, the air now charged with a different energy. The contrast between the cruel queen and the female he secretly desired was striking, leaving him momentarily stunned.





2 Comments on “Trapped III”

  1. Now, Absinthya is so awful, the rotten soul hidden under beautiful face. I can feel Rohan being repulsed by all of this, his feelings are strong and well written.

    1. Thank you very much! ^^
      Yes, she is terrible. I have similar plans for Aerin. This scenario with Abb, the captivity and such, is the end of this arc. There are still some things I need to think about and organize better. I hope that in the end everything makes sense and there are no holes left. XD

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