A/N: My other other favourite pairing, LitBel. Liet POV.

She's so beautiful. Delicate and fragile and bittersweet, her white fingers resting on my head as I polish her shoes until they are shining. She's half-reclining in an overstuffed red armchair, surrounded by lace, so cold and splendid. Her eyes, like dark gems, are almost closed. Her lips are red, so red. I've tasted them once and have been dying of her poison ever since. I used to be in love with her, I think. A silly thing, I was only attracted by her beauty. That's long past. I am not in love, I am addicted. She owns my body and my soul.

My head sinks down until my forehead is brushing her knee. I'm overcome. I feel a conflict within myself – am I too strong to give up my honor like this, or am I not even worthy of kneeling at her feet? I do not know. Her hand, strong as stone, tangles in my hair and pulls my head up. I've stepped over a line, can't touch her if she doesn't allow it.

I look up. She's not quite smiling, a flush of red over her porcelain cheeks.

"Stand up. You're getting my dress dirty."

I stand, ashamed at myself. She is my goddess, and she will have me know if she wants to be worshiped. She's used me like a rag before, and maybe I should hate her. But this time, I gave myself up willingly. I'm being broken, and abused, but sometimes she will grace me with a touch so soft I won't even know if I'm feeling it. When she sits at the fireplace, I sleep on the floor like a dog, her bare feet resting on my back. I eat what she leaves for me, bread and water most of the time. I do not care, I'm sated fully by her presence. If only my goddess would allow me to touch her.

She stands up, slowly. She knows where her place is – above me. Even though she is smaller than me, her poise and grace make her stand over me.

"You've been good, you know. I don't think you ever served my brother quite like that."

If only she didn't still love him. If only I wasn't still bound to him in some way.

Somehow, I find the strength to say;

"Because I never adored him like I adore you."

I shouldn't be so open. I speak without thinking, it has gotten me into trouble more than once.

"You adore me? How sweet."

Her voice is cool and smooth like glass, and the words cut just as much. My head is bowed, I know better than to look her in the eyes when she is angry.

"You know I don't love you. But I don't hate you, either." Her fingers touch my chin, lifting my head. I focus my gaze on her lips, blood-red and half open. Her teeth are white as salt and very sharp. "As I said, you have been good. You deserve a reward."

Does she mean-? Will I be allowed to touch her, this goddess, this queen? I used to be a knight, but what am I now to deserve her? I'm hers. That is enough.

"I am lonely, as are you. If you think it will please me, you may kiss me."

I can not form a word. Luckily, I'm not expected to speak. Of their own accord, my hands come to rest on her waist. She looks like a doll, but she is cruel. Cruel and beautiful like winter.

My lips press to her white neck through the lace of her collar, and travel up to meet hers.

I'm dying, but it feels sweet. I'm lost, but I could not be happier.

I adore her.

A/N: I've been wanting to write a story with a mistress/slave theme since forever, I was just lacking the right characters.

Done while listening to "Mine Eyes" by Switchblade Symphony.