Darling & Commander

The Nymph: 34

Gallaleigha POV:

I want to go home.

At first I cried myself silly at night. And then I desisted in speech. And now I am at the point of deepest grieving of my freedom, where I lose any hope.

"Nymph girl." A guard appears by my cell.

I deter my view, disregarding him. Just another day.

"Hey, I am talking to you." He scowls. "You got a caller. Phones ringing in my office for you."

I glance up, thought intellection quickening, as it must be a mistake. But that imbecilic- moronic dash of hope leaks through my frontier, and I go take the call.

If he had wanted to call me by now, surely he would have. This must be Tyson learning about my being taken into custody and ensuring my safety.

At least that is what I tell myself after locking in a tight, soundproof closet in the guards office.

I take in a shallow, constricted breath, and hit accept.

"Darling?"

His voice, oh his raw voice, it is my undoing. I burst into tears, sobbing as I clutch the phone to my ear, apprehensive to let go.

"Oh, Galla, please do not cry..." He pleads, and I can almost feel him run his fingers through his hair. "They have at long last permitted me to call you, my love."

"We only have two minutes..." My voice splinters, as I have not used it for quite some time I have been here. "That will never be enough time."

"I gambled a great deal." Brock blurts. "And won phone minutes. Thirty two of them."

I blink at the phone.

"How- what were you doing?" I panic.

"Nothing dangerous, darling. Just cards." He chuckles.

Something about the relaxation in his words sets off a firecracker in my chest.

"So you have been playing poker and gin rummy while I have sat here grieving your presence?" I enunciate icily.

"Solely so that I could call you." Brock alleviates my nerves without a hitch. "I am exceptional at poker, as it turns out."

"I- apologies, commander, I am still in shock of hearing your voice, and-" I pause, a tremor in my breathing. "I want to go home."

My words are minor, and hushed like the words of a child, but my feelings are clamorous and indifferent to the very same metaphor.

"I know, Galla..." He exhales longingly. "I love you, and I am sorry. For everything. Most crucially that the last recollection you have of me is conflict. That should not have ensued."

"That is the other thing, Brock." I let my voice fragment once again. "He is here. He checks in on me once a day. I am scared of how much longer it will be ensuring my comfort and when it will morph into his- pleasures."

Brock curses on the other end of the line, growling.

"Do not let him touch you." I can hear the scowl in his voice. "I understand you are petrified, and you have every right to be, but you cannot just let him hurt you again. He will be persistent but you must fight him, it is the only way. The only greater effect anyone can have on him is if you are the one who is the cause of it."

"I know, Brock..." I murmur, twirling a strand of my hair as he does for me, imagining I did not have to imagine. "I love you too."

"Thank you..." He chuckles. "Are you alright? I promise, once we are out of this, our lips will meet again, our hearts finding home."

"I believe it, commander." I nod unhurriedly. "What have you heard of the trial?"

"It is soon, if not mistaken. Not much longer, Galla, and we can take our leave from this place of misery."

"I know, Brock. I am awaiting it."

A moment, we are silent before he speaks again.

"So, truly, how are you, my darling?"

⚔️⚔️⚔️

"Hello, Gallaleigha."

I blink up from the book I am reading on the cell bench, my thoughts and fluttering heart due to the way Brock consummates my soul.

Only to see Andreas.

Yet somehow, it is not his presence that disturbs me now, as he has not sought anything to this point. No, what really petrifies my mortal soul is the sparkle that finds its way into his gaze today. The sparkle of a man with something in store, and I cannot stand to imagine it is something of his benefit, although surely it is.

"Andreas." I let my voice take control, unwavering and steady as I acknowledge his presence, nothing more.

"Warming up to me, hmm? Well that is a endearing little thought, for the plan I bring to light." He turns to the guard. "I should like all of her belongings brought to my personal quarters."

My insides roll around, and panic sets its thick, deep aura into my gut.

"Whatever is it that you want, Andreas? I will not live in your personal quarters, you will undoubtedly harass me into- things of sorts." I snap at him.

"So the sweet little nymph has a mouth on her..." He unlocks the cell and steps in closer, assuring the padlock is firmly closed behind him. "And here I thought she was a woman of no opinions, no thoughts of her own. But I suppose you really are quite intelligent, hmm?"

"Of course I have thoughts and opinions of my own. You are just too much of an imbecile to recognize them." I cast the book aside, wringing my fingers together with anxiousness.

"And that general is?" He steps even closer, fingers fondling my wrist until the grip tightens there, forcing my attention. "He does not want you, Gallaleigha. Nobody does. Why would he want some washed up wandering nymph who knows nothing of the true world when he could have a princess and become the greatest man in Hirenth? You should be on your knees for me this very moment, begging my forgiveness."

"You know not of what you speak, Andreas." I attempt to tug my hand away, but it remains restricted by the strong man. "Brock is a gentle soul. He is not the monster many say he is."

"Truly, though? He had his intentions to leave you there, in that closet had I not found you. Who could tell when he would return, with the means of time it is taking for your trials?" He smiles with a viper like grin. "You could be mine if you want."

"I would never be yours." I spit, despising fury taking control of my even tempered soul.

"So she has wrath after all." He releases a cruel laugh. "Gods, that is hot."

And his lips crush mine.