"Duke Ansel, at last, thou dost grace us with thy presence." Mr. Lothbrok cleared his throat when he saw the discerning visage of haughtiness on the young man across the room.
Smacking his lips in irritation at His Grace's indifferent attitude, he spoke up, "I trust thou hast read the letter." Duke Ansel's incisive response was, "I have read it."
He then stole a fleeting glance at the young woman on the bed but, as was his custom, ignored her presence. To him, she was not a beauty or jewel to behold but more akin to a peasant.
Mr. Lothbrok's smile faltered upon sensing the Duke's coolness toward his PREGNANT WIFE.
The reverberation of the Duke's flippant tongue caught him unaware. "At a time like this, thou art expected to remain with the expecting mother," he grumbled.
Duke Ansel ran a hand through his raven locks, releasing a weary breath. He spoke curtly, "I have obligations to my people, not to mention the expenses of my mistress. It's quite hard to find a woman of perfect wife material..."
His words trailed off as Mr. Lothbrok intervened. "Thou art foolish and stupid!" he exclaimed, smacking the Duke's head for emphasis.
Coretta froze once again, sensing her husband's presence as soon as he entered the room. She turned her gaze toward the majestically handsome man, stabilizing her fluctuating emotions.
His fair face, enameled and lacquered by the gods, was akin to a precious jewel enwrought in snow. His unfathomable sapphire-blue eyes stood out remarkably against his light complexion, not to mention his beautifully shining gold pupils. The depth and expressivity of his almond eyes were striking. His nose was imperially defined, and his angled cheekbones angled down toward his sharp jaw, creating an angelic appearance.
Despite their frequent lovemaking, Coretta was given little time to admire her husband's singular magnificence. He would often leave the room as though she were a mere nuisance with a disease. With a rare appearance that left her breathless, she scrutinized the ornate silken cloth that draped over him, each fiber exuding the power he held. The vest he wore, its three buttons undone, was decorated with a large golden tassel - an heirloom gifted to him by her late father-in-law.
"I have obligations to my people," he remarked curtly.
"Don't get me started on the expenses of my mistress," he continued, causing the fragmented world around her to shatter like broken shards of glass.
"It's quite difficult to find a woman of perfect wife material."
As the cold shock of his words washed over her, blood trickled from her nose, conveying the dark, unfathomable abyss that threatened to consume her and she lost consciousness.
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"The Duchess of Oldenburg - a mere puppet for our entertainment! Ha-ha-ha." jeered the audience, enthralled by the grotesque spectacle unfolding before them. Pulled to the side by a string, the caricature of Coretta Villan Loughty made bizarre and comical movements before giving way to yet another revolting figure.
The sounds of scornful laughter and meticulous claps of repulsion filled the room, as members of the audience took turns mocking the Duchess and hurling insults and curses at the grotesque puppet. "Even a lowly mistress has taken a special place in the Duke's heart!" one voice sneered. "Pathetic and worthless - that's all she is, this sorry puppet!"
Guided by string, the puppeteer manipulated the movements of the second figure before proceeding with a sickening blow to the puppet resembling the Duchess. And in a sinister voice that echoed with malice, the puppeteer declared, "I will end your story! The child must be gone!"
"No," whispered Coretta, her voice breaking as she watched in horror as her image was defiled and denounced, her humanity reduced to a laughingstock turned into loathsome moments of grotesquerie that stretched before her like an infinite abyss.
"NO!" Coretta bolted upright in her bed, sweat dampening her forehead as her chest heaved with panic. It had only been a nightmare. But her mind raced in fear as she reached down instinctively to soothe the swelling belly that housed her unborn child. A nervous breath escaped her trembling lips as a wave of relief washed over her.
Focusing on her surroundings, Coretta regained her composure and looked around the comforts of her bedroom. A diamond chandelier glittered far overhead, surrounded by beautiful paintings of herself adorning the deep brown walls. Her face twisted granting her a look of confusion and consternation. The last recollection she had was stepping out of the infirmary following her checkup. When had she come home? A sense of quiet anguish brooding within her propelled a hopeless sob that she screened with her hand.
Was she losing her sanity? Did she need someone to talk to, an ally who'd lend friendly solace? All these crestfallen emotions tormented her long into the void, with her confusing unfathomable fears against redemption.
But questions plagued her mind still – why did her husband, the duke betray her like this? By preferring his attraction towards a woman more beautiful, thereby making Coretta look like a vastly inferior candidate. Or was he the gunpowder slowly ruining her off-screen expectations?
Delirious with panic, she took tentative steps out of the empty room, her vision swimming with obscure gusts of inkling heights. Where was everyone, and why was she here in this solitude was her hefty-wrecking contemplation?
Coretta's gait felt heavy as lead as she trudged down the corridor, pausing briefly as she encountered two maids engaged in an inopportune bout of gossip.
"His Lordship is indeed blessed," tittered one. "Two women, both bearing his progeny."
Coretta's heart sank as she overheard them discussing her husband's precious mistress, who he allegedly held in higher regard now that she was expecting an heir.
"Why wouldn't he favor such a beautiful woman?" commented the other maid, "after all, have you seen the Duchess? Her features are as rigid as a graven image, and she always carries herself like a sour old duck."
Coretta was rattled to her core by the words she had heard. She couldn't bear the thought that Ansel would betray her in such a despicable manner as having a child with her own sister.
Coretta's heart shattered into a million little shards as she listened helplessly to their spiteful insults, tears prickling at the corners of her eyes. But her ears perked up at the news that the Duke preferred his beautiful mistress more because she was carrying his unborn child.
Peeking from behind a nearby pillar, Coretta flinched at the maids' conversation, quivering at the hateful comments poured out that could slander them both if censored. As she stood hidden behind the pillar and the maids departed, her mind raced, and emotions surged.
"No - oh God, no," whispered Coretta through her strangled sobs, struggling to breathe, struggling to understand the sheer wretched disaster that her life had sunk to. Every mirthful moment or the blissful remnants of meaning were blocked by furious honor downpours she perceived with every gesture or cluck of the media.
A premonition unlike anything ever before prickled her skin, and she wailed as she would silently burn down in the phantom dark. It was inconceivable for her husband to father a child with her sister, a person who picked on her every time and every day. Some she detested with every fiber of her being. How much her sister successfully trampled down her destiny.
She was brought back to reality by her ever-faithful servant Blythe, who wheezed out of nowhere, "Oh, Gracious Lady, I was in such a panic when I found you were missing from your chambers."
Coretta tried to collect herself, forcing a shallow breath, and assured her servant, "Thank you for your concern, Blythe. I needed a moment of solitude to compose myself."
Blythe had been called away by the head maid to attend to an urgent task, and upon her return, she discovered her Lady was missing. In a state of shock, she searched every nook and cranny until she finally found Coretta leaning against a pillar, seemingly lost in thought.
"My Lady, you have been asleep for nearly a week. Please come back to your chamber to rest," Blythe implored.
Coretta was bewildered yet again. Had she been bedridden for an entire week? Did her dreams hold any semblance of reality in her present situation? She couldn't bear to think about the possibility that her husband had fathered a child with her own sister. She refused to let the harsh words of the maids get to her. She was determined to focus on her health and her child, who was her most precious possession.
As Coretta and Blythe walked, arm in arm, back towards her chamber, an ungodly shriek pierced the air, causing the maid to spin around in alarm. To her horror, she saw the Duke's mistress viciously pulling Coretta's hair from behind.
"Ahh!" Coretta cried out in agony as she tried to fend off the attacking woman.
"Come with me, you worthless fiend. This will end today, and only one of us will survive," Lucille declared as she viciously yanked Coretta's dark burgundy hair.
"Lucille, let me go! AHHHH! You're hurting me! Blythe, do something!" Coretta screamed out, pleading for help from her loyal maid.
Despite the fear rising in her body, Blythe found the inner strength to act. She bravely attempted to pull the crazed woman away from her beloved Lady, risking her own safety in the process.
With each tug of war, Lucille and Blythe fought relentlessly, but Lucille's fierce grip on Coretta's hair proved too oppressive. Gradually, Lucille dragged Coretta into her chambers as Blythe struggled to free her mistress from the mistress' clutches.
Finally, the door closed with an ominous click, leaving Blythe on the other side, powerless to help her Lady.
"Get lost!" Lucille bellowed, shoving Blythe to the ground with a cruel force.
Blythe seethed with anger and frustration at the madwoman's callousness. Lucille had chosen this moment to exhibit her madness, just when Duke Ansel was absent on an expedition.
Blythe knew that Lucille despised Lady Coretta, who had been mistreated by the Duke due to his extramarital affair. The loyalty and devotion Blythe felt toward her Lady compelled her, even more, to fight against this deranged woman.
"This witch!" Blythe seethed inwardly, bristling with indignation.
Coretta's pleading voice drew her back to the immediate task at hand. The Duchess' hair tugged at a cruel angle, and her skin bore the telltale reddening of abuse.
"Lucille, I beg of you. I am with child," Coretta entreated, her voice trembling with pain and fear, seeking any kind of mercy from her sister.
"Cut the manoeuvres! Do you believe you are special since you bear the Duke's seed? We are both pregnant sisters, and to win for our offspring, one must face tragic death!" Lucille declared coldly, with a gleam of madness in her eyes.
Coretta cried out in agony, "Oh, this obsession! This madness! Your anger will get you nowhere but to a place deserted by all who care for you."
Aware that she was becoming weaker, Coretta's supplication became more desperate. "Blythe, please! Do something!" Her cries grew even louder.
As Blythe stumbled into the smaller chamber of the mansion designated for the mistress, she noticed precious gemstones lavishly strewn across the polished marble floor. Evidence of chaos and madness was detectable in the disarray that supplied plentifully throughout the room.
"Miss Lucille, please listen to reason. If any harm comes to the Duke's child, he will surely exact severe punishment," Blythe warned the deranged woman, with a tone that demonstrated both loyalty and dread.
"Only I am worthy to be Lady of the house! Only I! Give me your precious stones, your power, you weak sister!" Lucille shrieked loudly, her crazed and consumed mental state no longer operable.
Unexpectedly, she ran to the side, picked a knife from the top of her cupboard, and swiftly pulled Coretta's neck. Blythe had been close to grabbing Coretta's arm, but the crazy woman was too fast.
"Miss Lucille, are you nuts?" Blythe screamed.
"Oh, you haven't seen the worst of me...yet, you heedless maid!"
Trying to reach out to her crazed sister, Coretta spoke with a soft and coaxing voice, "Lucille, listen to me, please. The life of your nephew or niece is at stake. You have always been able to have everything you wanted. I beg of you, leave me with this one thing. Allow me to bear the child. I promise I will leave this estate; disappear from your life forever. Our father wronged me continuously, Lucille. Can I not be granted happiness even once?"
Tears filled Blythe's eyes as she subconsciously took in the deep resentment that simmered under the surface of Lady Coretta's existence. The depth of her grace's unwarranted suffering and abuse hadn't been fully known to her.
"Lucille, you possess unparalleled beauty and the Duke's love. Can I not have my child?" Coretta pleaded earnestly, undeterred by her sibling's insanity and cruelty.
"My Lady!"
Blythe's gentle voice startled her back to sanity, causing Lucille's grip to slowly slacken. Coretta wiped away her tears, grateful for the momentary reprieve from the madness that had consumed her sister.
"So, you intend to disappear with the duke's child? And for that reason, you think he will painfully fall out of love with you? Or wouldn't turn the world upside down for his child?" Lucille growled mockingly; her fleeting moment of leniency was replaced again with irrational rage.
The signs of her sister's cognitive decline didn't escape Coretta's intuition. She silently prayed for a way out of the predicament they found themselves in.
She positioned the tip of the knife just at the center of Coretta's swollen belly.
The agony of the situation had grown to unbearable levels for Coretta.
"Take even one step closer, and the life of the child will be in jeopardy," Lucille warned Blythe, her eyes fixed on the door that threatened to give access to her sister's escape.
"You are deranged, Lucille. I suspected that something wasn't quite right with you, but to treat me so... Aahh!" Coretta howled in agony as Lucille viciously yanked at her hair, causing her scalp to throb with excruciating pain.
"Lucille, for heaven's sake, stop!" Coretta managed to wrestle the knife from her sister's grasp, hurling it away just in time. But before she could take a breath of relief, a searing pain shot through her body, causing her vision to blur with unshed tears that flowed freely down her face.
"You!"
"My Goodness!! Your Grace!!"
"Lucille, you... Ahhhhh! What have you done? My child, no, please. Blythe, help me!" Coretta wailed in agony, unable to comprehend the magnitude of the harm inflicted upon her.
"Ahhhh! Nooooooo. Help me," she cried out, her voice filled with desperation and fear, pleading for anyone who could hear her to come to her aid.
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