Chapter Text
The emperor called her ‘Lovely’, if he called her anything at all, so that was the name she often called herself.
“Bring me my Lovely.”
“Hello, Lovely.”
“Eat, Lovely.”
She grew accustomed to it. It was easy here. The Ruby Palace was beautiful and her every whim was catered to- anything she wanted was given to her with Stasius’ blessing, on the condition that she thank him, either with a kiss or a walk around the garden. For Lovely, it wasn’t much for payment- she loved to spend time with Stasius, and she loved the gardens- it only seemed natural to combine the two.
Stasius always spent his free time with her- any breaks that could be arranged, dinner- he’d tuck her into her large, luxurious bed and tell her a story. Nothing soothed her like the sound of his low baritone and the light from the night lamps reflecting dully off his golden hair.
After she was mostly asleep, he would wish her good night and go off to see the other women in the Ruby Palace.
And that…
She didn’t really like that.
It had taken her a long time to notice, but the women in the harem were…well, they weren’t very nice.
Lovely figured it had to with Stasius.
They all primped and preened and begged for his attention and for pretty gifts. One of her nannies had explained that they were vying for the position of empress- and yet Stasius didn’t pay them any attention. What he did was toy with them and flaunt her in front of them.
Lovely didn’t really like it that he used her to tease everyone else- it made it very hard to have friends or even talk to people. And she was lonely, she thought.
Other than her Nanny and her tutors, the servants wouldn’t really talk to her. They obeyed her requests, but they didn’t…they avoided her.
Lovely had very vague, very old memories of being around other children her age- of snow and hot chocolate (the palace chef had frantically tried to recreate what she described under Stasius’ cold stare) and laughter with other little girls. She played barbies with a girl named Betty
But what was a Barbie and who was Betty
?
There were things that Lovely wasn’t supposed to talk about- things like her nightmares of a man in the doorway spattered with red while stars spun on the ceiling, or dreams about a pink backpack and a table filled with people and the smell of crayons while someone sang off key in the kitchen
Lovely knew not to talk about those.
But maybe the desire for friends was a safer topic.
“Stasius,” she asked at supper one evening.
“Yes, Lovely?” He drawled, examining her. “You’re wearing your new dress.”
She smiled. “Yes.”
“It looks just as pretty on you as I thought it would.” Lovely giggled and set down her fork. “Now, what did you want?”
“How come I don’t have any friends?”
Lovely had learned that the best way to talk to Stasius was to be direct.
She had to admit that the sight of the concubines giggling and flicking their hair and pouting their lips to try and get what they wanted. And when Stasius would slide his eyes to look at her and smirk, she knew that he was laughing at them too.
“You know me best, Lovely,” Stasius would say when they were alone, ruffling her hair. She loved how her Nanny would turn red but couldn’t say anything since it was the Emperor who did it.
Stasius laughed now, but it didn’t sound like a good kind of laugh.
“Friends?”
“Yeah,” she muttered, feeling uncertain. “I…I want friends. But…the concubines don’t like me. And the servants are busy. Couldn’t I play with some of the noble children?” She suggested timidly, quelling under his jeweled gaze.
He sighed and shook his head. “Well, I suppose this talk was a long time coming, Lovely.” She waited, gripping her chair. “No. You don’t need friends. Is that enough of an answer?”
But it wasn’t. “No. Why can’t I have friends?”
“Because I am the Emperor, and what I say goes.” The chair squealed as Stasius stood up and circled the table to stand behind her. Lovely held perfectly still as he gripped her shoulders. “You belong to me, Lovely. You live under my grace- the gown you wear, the food on your plate, the sheets in your bed, all of it is mine. You are mine. If I wanted I could kill you, right here, right now, and nothing would be done.” He took a shuddering breath and Lovely realized it was an inhale. He was smelling her. “My Lovely, here in my arms and my grasp- you think I would let you belong to anyone else after all you put me through?”
He talked like this sometimes- and Lovely had found that the best thing for it was to sit and not make eye contact and let him babble.
Stasius never hurt her, not really, not when she didn’t deserve it.
And she’d been bad- she’d asked for more then she was allowed and so she had to sit and wait for Stasius to be finished and hope he wasn’t too mad to decide that he wouldn’t want to read to her or spend his night with a concubine in the room next to hers, so loud that she would have a hard time going to sleep.