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They had danced for hours, though the night was not nearly through yet. Damian realized he hadn't felt this light and happy for years, ever since Valentina took an interest in him and enslaved his whole being. It was the pleasure of being released from a set of chains, and willingly binding himself with another, with the same optimism as he had done with the first.
They were in one of the smaller resting rooms, with such a number of people that they had privacy but did not yet cross the line of propriety. Catherine called over her maid, who brought a small and delicately wrapped package. The maid was one of Val's eyes, but there was no need for Catherine to know that. After all, in the case of emergencies, he trusted his sister to want the best for him, after the best for herself, so it was reassuring to know that his new target was under some kind of observation even before he had the time to set up his eyes.
Catherine held out the package, her cheeks rosy. The bracelet he'd given her gleamed on her thin wrist, and Damian liked it there, though it rather clashed with her outfit, which he'd also chosen. Luckily, she was unaware of the incompatibility, and wore it with all that unwavering and naive cheerfulness that touched Damian's heart. She seemed to have gotten even skinnier and frailer since the last time he'd seen her, and while it was concerning and he made a note to himself to send her physicians some time, it made him want to protect her even more.
"Um, I didn't really know what to get you, Lord Damian. B-but, I really had fun that night at the festival, and if I could, I would like you to remember it as fondly as I always will!"
Gifts were usually handled by servants, for the recipient to organize and to send out thank-you notes at a later date, but it was cute that she wanted to give it to him herself. Everything she did was so dumbly cute. Damian smiled.
"Thank you, darling. However, you needn't have worried. I would treasure anything from you for a lifetime."
Damian unwrapped the present and found inside a small, long, and narrow box, and in it lay the pen knife that had caught his eye at the festival. He let out a chuckle. What a silly girl!
It was those early days with Val that the sight of any object resembling a dagger now reminded him of. It was the holy dagger she'd been after, he later discovered, but before he did, he brought her every sharp object he thought may strike her fancy. There was a room in their castle where all those blades were now piled, sometimes given out as rewards for servants or knights, for many of them were really quite intricate and well-made.
They'd both been younger, and arguably a great deal happier, before he started wanting too much and she became so preoccupied with her schemes, and lost them both in her ambitions. The girl standing in front of him could never do that. She was far too simple, too readable, too undesirous.
"I must confess, darling Catherine, that I first approached you merely because my sister was interested in you. Yet I've grown enchanted by you, and while I know my reputation describes me as unscrupulous and that your name may be tainted by my mere company, I selfishly ask for your hand in marriage."
Damian was scarcely aware of the words he'd spoken, nor what in God's name had made him say them. He'd made similar offers countless times before, so the lines came naturally, but it had only ever been for brief periods of amusement. It felt as if some innate force had taken over him, ensuring that he tied down his new fancy before she even had the thought to flee. It was not dissimilar to how he'd felt around Val, that pure impulse to possess that drove him to commit acts he now detested to recognize as his own.
It unsettled him, but there was nothing he could do about it. He'd read about it far too much and long ago concluded that all he could do was to make the best of his situation. It began slowly, he knew, and he'd enjoyed this brief interval of sobriety, but eventually, his urges towards the girl would grow even beyond what he felt towards Val, without the restraint of siblingship. Well, there was no taking it back. Hell, if he was going to die young, he might as well get the most he could.
"Eh?! I-I-I…"
Catherine's eyes widened, and her cheeks were red as an apple. She opened her mouth, but closed it again, her face growing redder still. Damian laughed and decided to help her out.
"I understand this is rather sudden, so please do not feel obligated to answer right now. I only felt it necessary that you know the extent of my affections, and that I am truly earnest this time. In fact, I don't want you to worry about it anymore tonight, for I want you to enjoy it as much as I do. Why don't we go back to dancing?"
If he actually cared for the girl, perhaps he wouldn't be trying to make her a young widow, but that was the same argument as that if he cared about the world, he should've killed himself already, so he ignored it. Besides, the bright smile that slowly spread on her blushing countenance incited the same bliss within him that Val's smile had once done, the genuine one that she hadn't shown him nor anyone for ages.
The euphoria was dangerously addictive, but Damian allowed himself to revel in it, God damn the consequences. He slipped the pen knife into his pocket and took Catherine's hand. Such innocence that he somehow wanted to, at the same time, preserve it whole and corrupt it utterly…