Elara's POV,
FLASHBACK
My back still burned like hell from where Dorine flogged me yesterday. I couldn't even have a bath.
Then, someone barges into my room. No, not room. A shack is a better word. I don't get up from my straw mat because of how weak and feverish I am.
"That's her." I hear my father's voice. I don't even call him father anymore. Matteo. "A million dollars, right?"
"This scrawny thing?" A brawny hand pulls me up to my feet, and I whimper. The rags I'm wearing slip off my shoulder, showing the deep injury. "She's even broken. Half a million dollars at best."
"No, you don't understand." Matteo frantically tries to explain. "She's legit. Look at her birthmark."
He pulls my hair to the side to reveal the blotch on my neck, and the huge man grunts. "I can't believe this is the three-year-old girl. What the fuck did you do to her?"
"Not important," he waves off, and my vision blurs. "So you bring her back when she turns eighteen. I still need her fingerprints, but by then, her identity would be erased."
"Good enough for us." The man then clamped my neck with a chain and pulled me. "Come on."
I look to my father, whose eyes were simply cold. "Pa-Papa! Pl-please…"
He avoids my eyes as the man pulls me away until we reach a huge black car. I turn back, still whimpering for my father to take me away from these bad people.
But there was no one even in the courtyard. No Lucy either. I cry, kick and scream for somebody.
"Please!" I yell, "I promise I'll be good! Don't do this! Please, let me go!"
The man pushes me into the car, and there are three other men there. "How cute! The girl doesn't realise her father is dead and the man she's calling out for is such a monster."
The four of them smile down at me like devils, and one of them holds my full red hair.
"I've forgotten her name."
The one driving looks back, "Ah, we're supposed to change her identity."
"I remember her when she was young. Three, right?" Another with a skull tattoo on his arm says. "I remember her holding onto her teddy and her cold eyes."
"Isla was her name, wasn't it?"
"You mean, is."
"No, we're to change her identity." The last one flicks my hair to cover my face. "Hello, young girl. We're going to change your name, okay?"
"I know the perfect name for her." The one driving smiles wickedly. "Her mother's name."
I stiffen. I never knew my mother. My father never talked about her. "Elara. Elara Virelli still has that nice tone to it, don't you think?"
"Yeah, so girl, what's your name?"
I look between them, a bit scared. I just have to cooperate till I'm eighteen, right? "Elara Virelli."
"Good girl. We're going to have lots of fun."
I sink into my chair, remembering what one of them had said when I entered. "Her father is dead"
As I try to cloud my eyes of any emotion, one of them says in a singing tone,
"And thus, the true heir of the Virelli Dynasty has been born."
~~
I open my eyes, wheezing and breathing hard. My eyes travel wildly and frantically as I take note of my surroundings. It's dark, and I'm lying down on something soft.
A bed?
But I know it isn't my bed. At least I remember my room got burnt down. I stand up slowly because my head is still aching me then I look down to see my upper body is stripped of any clothing, but my lower body still has my dress on.
My eyes are dizzy, but I move my legs to get down from the bed when the door opens, and the light is switched on.
It's a huge room, decorated in plain grey and white. The only colours are the different paintings on the wall. There's a half-eaten apple, there's the winter forest, there's a crown, and there's a shipwreck.
All random, but somehow symbolic.
"...the gas was spiked with chloroform."
It's Lucien, and I don't have time to pretend to be asleep when he comes into view with Mireya at his side.
She smirks, Lucien's eyes go dark, and my face reddens. I'm still stark naked, and my breasts are in full view.
"Hello, Elara," the female doctor grins, "It's been a while."
I gather the sheets to cover myself as she comes closer, and she raises a brow, "It's just me, a doctor, and your husband."
"It's not my husband I'm worried about, doctor," I hiss, tying the sheets around my chest. "It's you. I don't want you lusting over me."
She laughs loudly, and Lucien walks over to us with an amused smirk.
"You're not worried about me?"
I give him a fake smile, "Should I be?"
He flicks my hair and nods once. "Yes, baby."
Before I can reply, Mireya clears her throat. "You seem to be feeling alright, Elara. Anything I should know so I can make you feel better?"
"I appreciate your concern, but I'm fine." My hand slips into the pocket of my dress, and I'm relieved to find the card still there. "Just need a little rest."
She nods, gives Lucien a look, and he shakes his head. "Okay, you kids have fun, but not too much fun."
Lucien flips her off, and she skips out of the room, her laughter an echo behind her.
When she leaves, the tension in the room could be sliced with a table knife. This should be, what, the third time he's seen me naked? I heave a heavy sigh and squint my eyes at the painted ceiling.
It's massive, dominating, and scary all at once. A man is falling. It doesn't seem like he's screaming or even struggling; he's just falling. A crown slips from his head and is suspended mid-air, as if it no longer belongs to him.
Around him, there's chaos, shattered weapons, reaching hands, and figures grasping for… something.
And yet, the man falling is calm.
"That's… unsettling."
I eye him, and he shrugs, dragging a stool with his feet.
"It's honest."
I keep staring at the painting. I know it's him who painted it, so it must mean something.
"There's nothing honest about that," I murmur. "He's falling."
"Exactly."
I tilt my head to see that he is watching me.
"Most people paint power as something permanent," he continues. "Untouchable."
My eyes flick back up. "You think differently, I take it."
"Yes, power isn't stable," he says. "It belongs to no one, and only the strongest holds it temporarily."
I scoff slightly. "And you just… sleep under that every night?"
He sits down beside me, his eyes as cold as the north. "I like being reminded."
"Reminded of what?"
"That even kings fall."
My eyes drift back to the painting again. "He doesn't look like he fears the fall."
"No, he plans for it."
I look around the room and see a canvas closer to the closet. I slowly stand up, awkwardly adjusting the dress over my chest.
His eyes follow me, and I sway gently until I reach the veiled canvas.
"You aren't stopping me," I lick my lips. "This isn't a painting of me, is it?"
I can't see him, so I just raise my hand and unveil the painting.
My mouth falls open.
"...Interesting."