HIS BED WAS THE MOST COMFORTABLE SABLE HAS EVER SLEPT IN. She always woke up feeling like she was on a satin cloud, the sheets soft against her naked body. Her eyes blinked open as she stretched, yawning, feeling like a cat and wondering how long she could get away with staying in the bed. Eskell was sitting at his desk across the room, beside his huge ornament wardrobe, the wood intricately carved in some kind of ruin, sorcerer thing so that he could hold all of his fancy shirts and dublets.

Sable sat up, letting the blanket fall at her waist, exposing her torso to him. Her hair, she could feel, was tangled from last night's activities and how much Eskell had wrapped his fingers in it. She would have to get him to heat a bath for her so that she could wash the evening away. But, something told her to stay in bed a little longer, so she let herself fall back in another, more full body stretch, groaning as she arched her back.

She smirked when she heard Eskell swear under his breath, glad to have gotten his attention. "Are we having breakfast soon, My Lord?" She called, staring up at the ceiling. There was a painting on it, like one you would find at a cathedral, and Sable had asked why it was up there when she had first spotted it. Eskell had told her it was so he would have something to look at while thinking and staring at his ceiling. She found it odd, but in a fond sort of way.

It was much more expensive than anything she had seen at the van Alstyne's, who had been the ones who had taken her out of her tiny village at the age of sixteen and introduced her into the world of nobles and being at court. They were also the ones to house her and all her sort-of affairs before meeting Eskell.

The Court Mage had caught her eye across the room, as she had his. It was something out of one of those romance books Baroness van Alstyne used to read all the time, about Destiny bringing together two people who were meant for each other. Sable had felt drawn to the man, however she didn't think it was quite like those books. For one, she's not sure if she actually held any deep feelings for him. Sure, Eskell of Oxenfurt was an excellent lover and a great confidant, but she doesn't think she would spend the rest of her life with him as anything more than that. She didn't think she wanted to be the Lady of any house or even a wife, much to her mother's disapproval (which she could hear in the back of her head).

"It's much closer to lunch, Darling, I'm afraid. It seems like you're quite the sleeping beauty," Eskell's voice drifted over the scratching of a quill. He must have been writing a letter to the Brotherhood or something. Sable didn't much care, if she was being honest with herself. She was barely up-to-date on all the Court gossip, especially now that she was warming Eskell's bed most nights. Maybe there was something with Queen Calanthe or with the Nilfgaardian royalty.

"Flatterer," Sable huffed, sliding herself out of the massive bed, over the red satin sheets and out from under the embroidered duvet that covered it. A thought tickled her brain, as she found the silk robe, pulling it over her shoulders and 'forgetting' to tie it. It was a pretty black one, making Sable feel like she was Yennefer of Vengerberg, who had basically claimed the shade as her own. The one time Sable had even got a glimpse of the violet eyed Sorceress, she was wearing some gorgeous black gown, sitting beside the Aedirn royals with a cold grace only she seemed to have mastered.

Sable ran a hand through her hair as she approached Eskell, her fingers getting caught in some tangles. She bit her lower lip when she noticed he was mostly naked himself, except the pair of underclothes that sat at his hips. Gently, Sable placed a hand on his shoulder, feeling the smooth skin and hard muscle there, admiring it. He was always a sight to see like this.

As her fingers traced the line of muscles on his back across his shoulders, his quill stopped writing. Smirking to herself, Sable trailed her fingertip back to his neck, though her wrist was caught before she could trace it back down. Eskell turned his head to the side and pressed a kiss to each of Sable's fingertips, her palm, and then her wrist, turning in his chair to continue his ministrations up her arm. The sleeve of her robe stopped him, however.

"It might be a little flattery," Eskell hummed, grabbing Sable by the hips and moving her around the chair, placing her against the desk, "but it's also one of the truest statements I've spoken from these two lips."

Sable rolled her eyes, putting a finger on Eskell's forehead and pushing him away from where he was leaning forward to press his face into her breasts. She got up then, deciding that since he had been so easy to distract, she wasn't in the mood for Eskell's attention now. He blinked at her as she moved her way from his supposed trap, watching her move back across the room, to where they had dropped her clothes the previous night.

"I didn't know I ordered cheese with my morning wine, I'll have to speak with the cook to change that," Sable mumbled as she picked up her underclothes, slipping them on, before tying up her robe. "Do you want me to bring a tray from the kitchen?"

Eskell glanced back at the letter he was writing, cleared his throat, and then started, "Actually, Sable, there was something I wished to speak to you about."

She hummed as she started walking towards the doors to his large room, slipping on her pair of slippers as she got to them where they sat beside the doorframe. "Whatever it is, it'll have to wait until after I've had some food, I can feel the growling building within me." She put her hand on her stomach to emphasize her point.

Eskell made the same face he did when she explained how well one of the many knights she kept warm before they went out to battle was in bed. It had annoyance written so well in the lines of his face, Sable imagines he's spent a good while of his practically immortal life making the face. Probably at someone named Stregobor or one of the other men in the Brotherhood of Sorcerers.

Sable thinks it makes him look ugly. She usually likes the aftermath of it, though.

"Sable-"

"Eskell of Oxenfurt," She mocks him, reaching for the doorknob, looking over her shoulder. "Bet you wish I was born into nobility so I could have a last name."

Eskell lets out a frustrated breath, smoke coming out of his nostrils. Sometimes, when his emotions aren't in check, his chaos will flare up and he'll do something magical with it. Sable knows he won't hurt her (now, at least). She finds herself rolling her eyes again, swinging the door open. Scoundrel, Eskell's immortal cat, darted into the chamber and almost climbed up Eskell's leg, the way he would've if the sorcerer was wearing pants. Eskell was able to stop him with a well placed shield spell. He was a long haired, orange cat with a white snout and belly, his green eyes glowing unnaturally with the spell used to keep him from aging.

"The thing is," Eskell started again, following Sable out of the room, Scoundrel hot on their tails. "You could take on a last name, if you wanted to."

Sable turned her head slightly, eyebrow raised, before she was shaking her head. She dipped down to catch Scoundrel as he tried to dart past without pausing in her step, giving him a good scratch between the ears as she carried him to where the kitchen was. Hopefully the staff Eskell employed had stuff cooking for lunch. They liked Sable enough. While Eskell was busy being a sorcerer, she would spend time with some of them, helping with housework. It made her think about when she was still with her family, doing her chores and making sure the house was being taken care of while her older brothers and father went off to work.

She makes a mental note to go visit them again soon. Since the Baron van Alstyne had promised to take care of them to take her off to live with them when she was sixteen, she's visited them a couple times a year. Now, at twenty two, she hasn't seen them in a couple of months, Eskell keeping her preoccupied. Maybe next time he's summoned to Aretuza, she can take a carriage and driver and make her way to them. Or maybe a horse and a guide. Sable might have grown up playing in and exploring the forest around her village, but she didn't know the whole Continent and they were definitely a couple days' ride away from it.

"I like not having a last name," Sable told him, giving Scoundrel a kiss to a fluffy cheek and getting a purr in response. "The nobles always shift uncomfortably when they hear such a short introduction."

Sable stepped into the kitchen then, smiling at Theresa standing at the stove, stirring something in a pot that smelled absolutely amazing. Sable let Scoundrel jump from her arms, shuffling him to go to the food dish set aside for him as she made her way to one of the cupboards to grab bowls to dish up with. Eskell had a look on his face that said he wanted to continue talking, but didn't want to with present company. Sable ignored it, dishing up three bowls and handing one to Theresa.

The cook looked between both Eskell and Sable, probably sensing the tension there. It was mostly coming from Eskell. Sable was doing a good job of ignoring his body language. It didn't help that he was in an open robe he had hastily thrown on over his underclothes and they could see the tenseness of his shoulders as he took the serving of food.

Scoundrel meowed, Theresa took one last look between them before giving Sable an apologetic look and fleeing. Eskell pointedly set his bowl down on the nearest surface with a thud. In retaliation, Sable purposely slurps at the liquid in her bowl, being as loud as she can.

"Sable," Eskell states. Sable doesn't like where this is going. She slurps louder at her soup until Eskell takes the bowl from her when she stops to take a breath. He puts it on the other side of his bowl, where she can't reach it easily.

It makes her take a step back, that serious look on his face. She wants to leave, make haste on a horse to the nearest not here but something in her brain tells her she's not getting out of this. She won't be able to, not with the look in Eskell's eye. He'll teleport to her, or whatever sorcerers do with their chaos when they want to seriously talk. Maybe trap her in this house. She's pretty sure Eskell knows how to do that.

"I've been thinking," Eskell says, serious, and it makes Sable take another step back. Things like this never end well when someone is thinking and has to specify that they have. It scares her a little, if she's being honest with herself. She wants to say something like don't like that or maybe try not to do that but she knows Eskell will make an even worse face. It is lucky that Sable can have a filter on her thoughts to speech sometimes. "You could take on of Oxenfurt."

Sable blinks. "Is this a proposal?" Shock, Sable thinks she's feeling shock.

"Oh, come on, Sable," Eskell sounds exasperated. He's clenching and unclenching his fists in a nervous habit. Trying not to use chaos, probably, but Sable can't really think about anything but him and the proposal he just gave her. "Everyone in Court, nobility or not, already thinks we're married. Especially when you stayed with me for two years, considering your reputation. Let's just make it official. I love you, you love me, and we're great together."

Sable's mind feels like a blank piece of parchment when someone takes a quill to it and drug the tip from top to bottom in a slow, spreading ink line. She starts to sprout thoughts that get cut off almost immediately as "I love you, you love me" rings through her head. Because that's the thing, isn't it? Perception is a tricky, awful thing, especially when Sable is so good with playing a game she doesn't even realize she's doing it with the person she probably cares about most of all.

Cares about, but doesn't love. Not in the way he clearly wants her to. And she knows, in this moment, she has his heart in her hand, waiting for her to either accept it gently or crush it meanly. Sable, no matter how much she has come to enjoy Eskell's company on top of the sex, knows she can't live a lie.

"Eskell," she says gently, and she's not sure how to tell him, but she has to. Oh, it is going to hurt. She can already hear his heart cracking. "I don't," she pauses for a breath, for a moment for them both, because this is going to change everything, "love you."

"What?" It's an immediate reaction, the way his expression flipped from open and hopeful to this look of confused hardness. Sable's familiar with the way mages can shut out their emotions, but she'd never thought she'd witness Eskell doing it to her, and as quick as he did. However, she can see the hurt in his eyes and the rage starting to consume him.

Sable feels compelled to explain herself. "It's not that I don't care about you, Eskell, you know I do. You implied yourself, I wouldn't stick around if I didn't. But there's a difference between finding a confidant and friend who I can have amazing sex with and being in love with you."

She's making it worse. She can see she's making it worse. Oh god, she should've just fled, got away as quickly as possible.

"So, everything was a lie?" Eskell spat out, the fury taking over. Sable couldn't help the step she took back to get away from the angry sorcerer, glad her self-preservation skills were working.

"No, of course not!" Sable defended, hurt. Eskell and her had had some great times together, gossiping at betrothal banquets and celebratory feasts. She actually listened to him talk about his studies with chaos and sat through what was basically university lectures about things she couldn't even start to comprehend. He taught her how to fight a little, his fancy, nobility parents teaching him swordplay as a kid, hoping he would be a prospective knight before he showed he could wield chaos. She's watched him throw up on himself from drinking too much ale and shove him at Theresa to get cleaned up as she continued to drink, thrown bread at his head when he made a vulgar joke around a Duke she was trying to fuck, and with how many times she had ended up in Eskell's red, satin sheets, reaching that certain climatic ecstasy you get from knowing somebody inside and out, she's offended he even insinuated it was a lie.

Thinking about it though, she can see where he thought the affection had turned from platonic to romantic after they started seeing each other. She feels sick with guilt and regret.

Sable is so lost in thought, hurt pressing at the edges of her mind, that she hadn't realized Eskell approached her. She feels his warm, calloused hand press under her robe, over where her heart sits in her chest, and she's shocked back to the present with how unnaturally warm it is. She tries to back away, but Eskell had also gotten his other arm around her waist and was holding her against him. His voice has venom in it when he leans forward to whisper in her ear. Sable sees the rage and hurt swimming in his brown eyes before she can't see them anymore.

"There's a soul out there that's connected to you and your whole being," she blinks at that, but can't deny it's true, but she can't argue with him, not after she's hurt him in a way she never thought she would. Sable used to dream about it, someone to come a sweep her off her feet like in the fairytales. And she wants to tell Eskell a pretty lie, but she can't make herself do it, not with how much she cares for him. It's just not in the way he wants. His hand presses harder into her chest, the stinging, burning pushed deeper into her heart. It feels like it should be smoking, but there's no black wisps in her peripheral. "But until you find each other, you'll never love anyone else, Darling," he spits the nickname out like it's a curse, making Sable flinch. She missed the fondness the word held, even just earlier that day. Eskell laughs cruelly, "And for as long as I live, you will too. I want to witness this person who's actually able to make the Court's Whore, Sable, fall in love."

She wants to slap him. Gets her hand about halfway there before the heat radiating on her chest from Eskell's hand turns white hot and she wrenches back to try to get away from it, but it's too late. It makes her knees buckle as it shoots through her veins, strangles her lungs, stabs at her heart. Her fingers scramble for purchase, grabbing onto Eskell's robe to try and keep herself up as she gasps, the breath knocked out of her from the sensation in her heart. It brings tears to her eyes and she feels Eskell lower her to the ground. He had taken his hand off of her chest and she feels like he wretched her heart out with it.

Sable looks down to see if there was a gaping hole in her chest, but it's intact and whole. However, now, sitting where her heart is, is a black spot surrounded by three runes that make a triangle.

She looks back up at him, sees that he himself has tears in his eyes, but from a different pain than what she was feeling. Sable reaches for him, wants to give him comfort even though he had just caused her so much pain, remembers the way she held him in his moments when he needed to let out all his emotions. Wanted to help him weather through this, even though she was the one who caused it.

"How's it feel to be cursed too?" Eskell whispers, staring at her, unblinking. She continues to try and grab him, but he's turning on his heel as the first tear falls and makes it down his cheek, fleeing from the kitchen.

Sable's left on her knees, gasping for breath, a curse now running through her system, alone. She's not quite sure what to do in this new reality. How do you live in the aftermath of such an event? A part of her brain is yelling at her to be mad at Eskell, considering what he had just done to her, but she can't make herself give into it. Not yet, at least. Another part wants to curl over herself and sob, or go and beg Eskell to take the curse away, but a part of her, dark and dangerous, whispers about how she deserves it for leading him on. The loudest part is still telling her to get the heck out of dodge and disappear into the forest for the rest of eternity until fate catches up to her.

Scoundrel meows next to her, breaking the silence that had fallen over the room. Sable hadn't even realized she was clutching her hand over the new marks on her chest until Scoundrel rubbed against her thigh and she had to come back to herself to give him a stroke from head to tail. It was such an absent-minded movement and Sable wondered, vaguely, if it would become something else now that she's pretty sure Eskell never wants to see her again. At least, she's probably going to never be allowed back at his estate.

She stops for a moment then, looks down at Scoundrel, and says to the quiet of the room, her voice cracking with emotion she's trying not to feel. "He doesn't have a real last name to give either, the fucker."

Her breath hitches, her hands tangle in Scoundrel's fur, and she bends in half as she feels the first sob burst from her throat, bringing the tears and emotions with it. She doesn't know how long she stays there, sobbing, hating the world and herself.

____________

so, this is the beginning. she a cursed woman.

she had slept around the court, im not going to lie. i hope you enjoyed this, and here's to 2022, i guess. may it be better than 2021!