Private Tales Amongst the Night Blooms

A private roleplay only for those invited by the first writer
Olydia crossed her arms and stared daggers at Thorn.

"Yes, a misunderstanding." Her cool blue eyes assessed him in one withering move, lowering to see the way he carried himself before those bright eyes snapped back to his dark green. "For you have failed to take opportunity to ask me questions. Such as, what family do I hail from? Why was I enroute to the King's castle? What value am I worth?"

She let the questions seep into him. Felix knew already, but did he inform Thorn?

"An intelligent man would have figured my importance would be paid handsomely for my return, and swiftly at that. Or I could announce who I am to anyone else here and see to it they make the exchange in a timeley matter." No, Felix did not answer to her, but she did not have to answer to the likes of him. "I want to see it. The letter you are penning to send to my father for my ransom."
 
Rafe folded his arms, mirroring her stance with deliberate slowness. His head tipped slightly as he looked her over again, dark green eyes still faintly glazed, but sharp enough. As she spoke, the corner of his mouth tugged upward, a slow, knowing curl.

“Oh, you’re right, my lady,” he drawled. “An intelligent man might have questioned the driver of said lady’s carriage. Might have pressed a blade to his throat, just a touch, to be sure he spilled every drop of truth before sending him on his way.”

His gaze held hers as his cheek dimpled faintly. “Lady Duskwood.”

“So, bein’ an intelligent man and all,” he went on, voice smooth, “I can assume exactly how valuable you are. And I will be returning you, soon.” His eyes flicked briefly to the door. “But not tonight.”

Felix shifted beside him. “She’s… supposed to marry the prince,” he murmured.

Rafe stilled. The change was subtle, but unmistakable. His jaw tightened, he cleared his throat and looked at Olydia again, slower now, as if reassessing her. A quiet huff escaped him, something like disbelief, something like reluctant sympathy, gone almost as quickly as it came.

“That little drop of truth,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck, “was withheld.”

Then his eyes snapped back to hers, sharp and cold. “You’ll sleep here,” he said, tone brooking no argument.

He turned on his heel, already grabbing his shirt and moving for the door. “Felix can stand guard,” he added over his shoulder, a note of irritation threading through his voice, “since he’s so keen to play knight in shining fucking armour.”

As he passed Felix, he shot him a glare that promised a conversation later.
 
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Olydia was left stunned, but Thorn had turned away before reaping in the glow of him breaking her ice.

She turned her eyes onto Felix, her head shaking slowly with disbelief.

"Is he always like this? Drunk and... stupid?" It was the first word that came to mind, even if he had proved he knew who she was. "Why does the fact I am to marry the Prince enough to make him realise how precious of cargo I am?"

Yes, she may be all beauty and fair dresses, a lady of a noble house, but Olydia wanted to be seen as herself and not somone else's important prize.

Her eyes darted about the room, frowning when she could not find what she had been looking for. "Is there wine? I daresay I need a glass." In fact, she was sure she deserved a glass every time this Thorn idiot came into contact with her. Olydia sighed and sat back down in the bed she had previously been comfortable in. "I really do not want to sleep here." Finally came her whisper and she gave Felix a sad smile.

Thorn made his invitation to stay feel colder than the warmth this room held.
 
Felix flinched as the door slammed, the sound rattling the empty bottles and causing the candlelight to flicker.. He stood there a moment, then let out a long breath and dragged a hand down his face.

“Drunk… sometimes. Stupid?” He shook his head. “Rarely. He’s many things, Milady, but foolish isn’t usually one of them.” he said gently.

He glanced at the door Rafe had disappeared through, then back to her, expression softening.
“He knows how valuable you are because of your name, milady.." Felix went on. “A couple of us overheard the instructions tied to your transport. We thought it was coin, or ledgers… Duskwood taxes, maybe.” He gave a small shrug. “Not a daughter. Not you... The matter of the Prince is.." he cut himself off, hesitating, then closed his mouth with a quiet huff. Instead, he stepped closer and held out his hand to her.

“Come,” he said simply. “You can have my room.”

He guided her from the chamber, along a narrower tunnel lit by lanterns, their light warm and honeyed against bark and stone. A rope bridge swayed gently beneath their feet, the sound of distant water echoing far below. On the other side, Felix led her into the hollow of an ancient tree.

His room was small but warm, walls curved with living wood, the grain polished smooth by years of care. Roots arched up and over the ceiling like ribs, woven with trailing vines and tiny lanterns that cast a soft amber glow. A simple bed was tucked into the curve of the trunk, layered with thick blankets and furs, and a low table sat nearby beside a narrow shelf cluttered with arrows, feathers, and a half-carved charm.

“Make yourself comfortable,” Felix said quietly.

He poured a cup of wine from a small jug and set it on the shelf beside the bed for her. “I’ll stay by the door,” he added, earnest as ever. “All night, if need be. You have my word.”
 
Before Felix could go, Olydia reached out to catch his hand. "I wish I could do more to repay you for your kindness here, Felix. Perhaps I will settle on owing you a favour should you need one of me in the future. Whatever I can do within my limits." She gave him a smile, one filled with gratitude and ease as the change of rooms made her feel better than she had in Thorn's rooms.

Her hand released him, and she nodded her head at him. "I would hope you get some sleep when you can." For she needed it too.

The constant tide washing in and out with emotion had begun to take it's toll on her. Weary, Olydia had no more physical strength to go on. Her mind was ready to take it's rest.


"Good night Felix." It was a strange feeling to take up one's room. She felt guilty to have left someone without their bed for a night. Surely... it would only be this one night she spent here before she was returned home.

Not wanting to risk it, Olydia only loosened the string to her corset to something more comfortabe to sleep in. She was dressed, should an emergency have her need to be up amd ready. And as the minutes went by, she found herself sinking deeper into the bed. The sheets and pillows welcomed her, and she could smell the scent of spices and smoked wood. Felix.

Olydia dreamed that night. It was dark and she walked along a path lit with only torches. She wore a grand dress, and a veil shrouded her vision. A wedding. This was her wedding. At the end of the path was a man with his back turned, and before she could reach them, a shadowed figure stepped onto the path.

Not him. Don't marry him.

Olydia woke to the sound of voices outside. Being that there were no windows, she had no true sense what time of day it was or if she even slept a few hours or more.
 
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Felix turned back when she caught his hand, surprise flickering across his face before his cheeks warmed pink.

“Oh, there’s no need for that, Milady,” he said quickly, shaking his head. “You wouldn’t be in this predicament at all if it weren’t for us stealin’ you away as we did.” he frowned. “It doesn’t sit right… an’ it wouldn’t sit right knowin’ you felt you owed me anythin’ either.” He offered her a small, sheepish smile.

“Good night, Milady. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be right outside.”

And he was.

Felix settled himself against the door once it closed, back to the wood, knees drawn up slightly. The lanternlight dimmed as the night wore on, and every so often his eyes threatened to slip shut only for him to rub at them and straighten again. He stayed awake through the distant laughter dying down, through the crackle of fires and the low murmur of voices fading into sleep.

Sometime later, a boot nudged his side. Felix’s head jerked up as Rafe stood over him in the low light, arms folded.

“Get yourself some sleep,” Rafe murmured. “Nothing's going to happen to her, but I’ll take over watch if it’s so important to you.”

Felix huffed, shooting him a glare and shaking his head. “No. You’ve done enough.” His voice stayed low, but there was bite in it. “As if she isn’t scared enough already, you had to go and make her think you’re some kind of fiend.”

Rafe snorted. “Scared? She didn’t seem scared to me. She’s got me bruisin’ up like a fuckin’ peach.”

“Yeah,” Felix muttered, shifting back against the door, “well it’s no more than you deserve.”

Rafe dragged a hand down his face. “Alright. Fine. I was an arse. I was drunk. I was a drunken arse.”

“Not me you need to explain yourself to,” Felix said, eyes narrowing. “You owe her a sober apology.”

Rafe sighed. “Fine. If it’ll stop your sulkin’.” He reached out and ruffled Felix’s hair before turning away toward his own chambers.

Felix hesitated, then called after him in a hushed voice. “What are you gonna do with her?”

Rafe paused, glancing back over his shoulder. “They’re expecting her. When we get our fee, I’ll take her to the city gates an-"

“You can’t really let her go there an’ marry him, can you?” Felix cut in, disbelief creeping into his whisper. “She’s… she’s kind. She deserves better than Abel.”

Rafe turned fully to face him, expression hardening. “It’s none of my business,” he said flatly. “She’s betrothed. Her father will be delighted, the King will be delighted, andI’m sure she is too. It’s what women like her are raised to want, right?”

Felix stared at him. “You’re a right prick sometimes, d’you know that?”

“Well aware,” Rafe replied, and with that he turned away and slammed his door shut.
 
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She laid still in the bed, frozen in place.

They were talking about her, yes, but then they briefly spoke of the Prince she was to marry. Was something wrong with him? Was something wrong with... her?

Was being too kind another way to say she was naive? That she was fooling herself to think life would be happier once she became Princess Olydia?

She stayed in bed for a while longer. She did not know how long she had been laying there for, but sleep did not return to her. Her eyes turned red from tears. Her eyes turning puffy from silent sobs. She wanted to be home. She wanted to be away from here and returned to a life where she knew exactly how her day would go from the social calendar she kept up.

Olydia was already mourning her life... and she thought to herself many times why she already begun to mourn when she has not married the Prince yet?

Finally, her eyes shut. Sleep came restlessly, anxiety pulling her out from slumber and jolting her awake...

The shadows in the room danced, too free in their movements when everything else was still. Your father will not pay. Your father will not pay. The King refuses. The King refuses. The shadows mocked, the voices all meshed together un various tones, but it's message reached her nonetheless.

She would still be here a while longer.
 
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Felix never left the door.

Even when the quiet of the hold settled fully into sleep, even when his back ached and his legs went numb from sitting, he stayed there. If it helped her feel even a fraction safer, then it was worth it. Eventually he slid down again, shoulders resting against the wood, arms folding loosely as his eyes drifted shut despite himself.

Morning came not with light, but with sound. Soft footsteps. A gentle nudge to his boot.

“Felix,” a small voice whispered. He startled awake, blinking hard as he looked up to find Millie standing there, braid slipping over her shoulder, a wooden tray balanced in her hands. Steam curled faintly from a cup of tea, the smell of warm, honeyed porridge and fruit warm and comforting.

“For the Lady,” she said quietly.

Felix let out a breath. “I can always count on you, Mills.”

The girl beamed, cheeks colouring. “Boss sent me,” she added, already turning on her heel. “He’s gone to the city with Luc already.”

Felix straightened at that, frowning faintly as he took the tray from her. “Ah, right…” he murmured, but Millie was off before he could say more, bare feet pattering away through the tunnels. He stared after her for a moment, then sighed and shook his head. Carefully, he turned back to the door.

He knocked once, gently, and cleared his throat. “Milady?” he called quietly. “Are you awake? I’ve some breakfast for you.."

When there was no immediate answer, he eased the door open just enough to peer inside.
 
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She had been drying her eyes when his voice became louder, addressing her. Olydia tried to speak, but her voice broke before she could say anything. The door opened, and Olydia knew if he saw her face, he would know she had been crying for some time now. That is... if Felix could recognise that or not.

There was no need to hide her face, and so she stirred and began to sit up. Her eyes were red, hair mussed around from tossing and turning all night. Her shoulders sagged with exhaustion. Olydia sat up and gave the man a bleak smile. "Breakfast?"

Her eyes fell onto the tray, and curiosity snagged her. It smelled warm and inviting, and she began to pull herself to the edge of the bed. "That does look nice." It was the right portion size for her too. Olydia was not the type to feast, and preferred many different smaller dishes in one sitting.

She hoped he would not mention her current state, or even ask her how she was feeling. Olydia knew her shadows never spoke true, but it felt true when it spoke of her fears. This time... there was a feeling in her gut. The King would refuse, and she knew why. If he gave into the plans of thieves, how would that look to the people? That the King bent over backwards for a young woman abducted.

Perhaps her father could act of his own accord? The King... if he were to tell her father to let it be, she knew he would listen, even if he did bot agree.

She did not want to ask the question. Did not want to hear it said that she would need to learn to be content within her prison.
 
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Felix noticed.

He noticed the redness around her eyes, the way her shoulders sloped as if the night had pressed its weight into her bones. His chest tightened painfully at the sight, but he didn’t say a word about it. No questions. No pity. Just the same gentle steadiness he’d shown her since the road.

He stepped fully inside and nudged the door closed with his heel, the click soft behind him. The tray was carried carefully to her bedside.

“Mmhm,” he said with a fond smile. “You’re in for a treat. Millie’s only eight, but I swear she makes the best porridge in all of Ivereth. Picks all the best berries herself, too.” A quiet laugh escaped him as he set the tray down within her reach.

He lingered a moment, then lowered himself to the floor, folding his legs beneath him rather than towering over her. It felt… more polite. Less like she was being watched.

“I hope you managed to get a little sleep,” he added gently, eyes on the floor for a moment, as if giving her space to answer, or not.

Felix chewed on his lower lip, then inhaled and spoke again. “I was thinkin’…” He glanced up at her, offering a hesitant smile. “If you’d like, I could show you around today. Thornhold, I mean. Properly.”

He shrugged, one shoulder lifting. “It’s not… what people imagine, I suppose. And well, who knows...” His smile grew a touch brighter, hopeful but not pressing. “You might even find somethin’ you like about it.. Only if you want to, of course." he added gently.



The forest thinned as the path dipped toward the low road, dawn's light starting to spill between the branches. Rafe walked ahead, cloak pulled tight, boots sure on familiar ground. The scroll was tucked securely against his side, wax already stamped, his terms, clean and brutal in their simplicity.

Lucian kept pace beside him, quieter than usual.

“You sure you’re doin’ the right thing?” Luc asked at last, breaking the hush.

Rafe let out a sharp huff through his nose. “For fuck’s sake. Don’t you start.” He’d had enough of Felix's protesting on that matter, enough of the way the words she deserves better had lodged like splinters under his skin.

Luc didn’t back off. “We both know how much of a cunt your brother is, Rafe. Surely the girl doesn’t deserve that. She doesn’t know what sort of life she’s walkin’ into.”

Rafe stopped short, turning on him with a glare. “The life she's always dreamed of, I'm sure. If it’s not her, it’s someone else. That’s the truth of it.” His jaw tightened. “And either way, it’s none of my business.”

Luc scoffed. “Funny way to talk about someone you kidnapped.”

“The fee is my business,” Rafe snapped. “That’s the part that matters.”

“Fuck the fee,” Luc shot back. “We’ve more than enough coin-”

No.” Rafe’s voice dropped dangerously. “Not enough. Nowhere near enough.” He gestured vaguely toward the valley below. “People are starving, Luc. Dying because they can’t afford bread or medicine. Coin disappears faster than you think.”

Luc grimaced. “Then we write this one off. Go again.”

Rafe barked a humourless laugh. “And then what? You think she’s got a choice?” He shook his head. “Her father’s selling her to a prince. That’s how this works. You want her to stay at Thornhold?” He scoffed. “They’d never stop looking for her. Not with her name.”

Luc fell silent as Rafe started walking again.

“We do this quick,” Rafe said finally, voice hard as iron. “Get the coin. Return the girl. Before they smoke us out.”

Luc sighed, watching his friend disappear between the trees. “You’re a right prick sometimes, you know that?”

“So I’ve heard,” Rafe called back, not slowing.
 
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"Thank you." The bowl presented to her gave off every smell of comfort she did not know she needed. The spices were a warmth, the berries a freshness that reminded her of summers spent picking strawberries in their estate gardens. The bowl before her had been made by a child and already it gave her memories of safety and happiness. Olydia lifted the spoon and scooped a small portion, taking considerable time to blow gently on it before taking it into her mouth. She hummed her delight, astonished that this was already making her morning turn for the better.

She considered the offer of being shown around, and Olydia could see Felix waiting patiently for her answer.

"I would like that... and I apologise that you... perhaps were made to monitor me." It had not been hard to figure it out herself when Thorn had all but said Felix was to watch her door all evening. Olydia took another spoonful to her mouth.

She thought some more as Felix gave her a moment again to speak.

"Is there a library here? Or a music room?" Pink rose to her cheeks, afraid her privilege perhaps was emerging by asking such questions. These were rooms she had at home, places she liked to frequent for comfortability. "Somewhere... quiet."

She did not intend to seek out places filled with people, even if in the company of Felix or dreadfully Thorn's. Olydia did not belong here, did not have a place here. There was no need to get too comfortable when surely news of her return back to her family and the royal family would be given once Thorn returned here.




The two men would soon come upon a young maid lingering a few feet from the road where Olydia had been taken from. She was a nervous creature, jolting and flinching at every sound.

She had a message, the parchment clutched in both hands that held onto it tightly.

A scullery maid, but tasked with this delivery. It cannot be said how ling she had waited here but judging by the dirt on her dress, she had slept here over night.

The letter in her hand was not written by the Duskwood Lord, nor the Prince. The King had entrusted her with this, had told her to do this and perhaps her father would be pardoned from his crimes of doing a poor job with his cleaning about the stables.

A letter that warned the young lady taken was to be returned in two days time. Right here. And the wedding ceremony can take place.

The maid was told the contents of the letter, but the fear on her face was not of being alone in the woods. No... there was more to this letter. Maids heard everything, and this one knew the Lady Duskwood would not know a happy marriage.

"I have to warn... I must, I must." she murmured to herself, as if to give herself courage. "They will turn her a monster... they will break her. "
 
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Felix couldn’t help the quiet grin that tugged at his mouth when she hummed over the first spoonful. He gave a small nod, shoulders lifting in a modest shrug that said told you so without a word. Watching her find even a scrap of comfort felt like a small victory.

When she agreed to let him show her around, his brows lifted in open delight, only for it to falter the moment she apologised. His head shook immediately, a faint crease forming between his brows.

“Oh, no. No, you I wasn't made to watch you,” he said gently. “I just… wanted to make sure you felt safe.” He hesitated, then added with a softer smile, “Thorn offered to take over for a bit. I didn’t let him.”

At her next question, his lips twisted, sheepish. He rubbed the back of his neck, eyes flicking away for half a second.

“Ah… no. No library. Thorn’s got a few books, I think, and some of the others too, but nothing like that.” Pink crept up his cheeks, too. “And we play music sometimes, by the fire, but… no music room. Sorry, milady.”

He glanced back at her, thoughtful, then brightened just a touch.

“There is a place you might like, though,” he said. “Quiet. Away from most folks.” He smiled, hopeful but careful. “I could show you, if you want.”



The walk to the road passed in brittle silence, broken only by the crunch of boots and the distant call of birds waking with the sun. Felix’s concern and Luc’s protests churned together in Rafe’s head, a relentless loop he refused to acknowledge. At least he tried not to.

He stopped suddenly, lifting a hand to halt Luc as his eyes caught movement below.

Someone stood near the road.

They circled first, scouting ahead and checking the treeline, the bends in the path, the shadows that could hide a trap. When Rafe was satisfied she was alone, he stepped out from the trees and whistled low, both hands lifting slowly into view.

The girl looked like a spooked deer.

“That for me?” he asked, nodding toward the parchment clenched in her hands. His voice was calm, muffled by the scarf pulled up over his mouth.

He approached carefully, movements as non-threatening as he could make them. Luc lingered back, eyes on the road. When Rafe took the scroll, his eyes softened briefly in what might have been reassurance, until they dropped to the familiar handwriting.

A breathy laugh escaped him beneath the scarf, humourless. His eyes narrowed as the maid stumbled over her warning, fear spilling out in whispers.

He said nothing for a moment, then dipped his chin once. “I hear you,” he said quietly.

The scroll disappeared into his jacket. In its place, he pressed another into her hands, his own seal, his own demands. Payment would be left here, or they would have no young lady returned at all.

“Will you take this back for me?” he asked, brow quirking. "Thank you.."

He stepped back, already turning away. Then paused. He slipped a small coin purse from his jacket and tossed it toward her, a few weeks' wages at least. “If you’re afraid,” he added quietly, “come back here. One week from now.”

His gaze held hers, steady. “I’ll get you somewhere safe.” he promised, before disappearing back into the trees.
 
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“Will you take this back for me?” he asked, brow quirking. "Thank you.."

He stepped back, already turning away. Then paused. He slipped a small coin purse from his jacket and tossed it toward her, a few weeks' wages at least. “If you’re afraid,” he added quietly, “come back here. One week from now.”

His gaze held hers, steady. “I’ll get you somewhere safe.” he promised, before disappearing back into the trees.

The young maid hesitated a moment, looking down at the heavy purse he had given her. Her teeth chewed at a dry part of her lip before she moved forward to follow, calling after him.

"The King is searching for an artifact to bolster her magic. He believes it is dormant and in need of coaxing. Be careful, sir!" Her eyes darted about, hoping no one else heard her warning to the enemy. She could be killed for such a thing, but as a maid, she heard plenty about the castle to be able to choose a side.

No one deserved to marry the Prince.




Breakfast all finished, with her bowl held awkwardly in Felix's hands as he left the room to give her privacy to freshen up. Her skirts and bodice were creased from sleep, but running her warm hands over it a few times helped straighten it up a little. She rubbed cool water over her face, dabbing around her eyes puffy from the many tears that spilled overnight, and braided her long, dark hair so that it rested down her spine.

She would be waiting outside the door for Felix to return, taking in the quiet of the hall.

Her fingers fidgeted before her, held up to fret her way through her nerves as her shoulders relaxed to a gentle square. Posture had been fine tuned with her, and Olydia was aware enough to not let it slack. If anything, it helped her feel as if she were more confident than she felt.

It was quiet at this time, and Oly was left to wonder how one could tell the time while down here.
 
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