*Trigger warnings for this chapter: Implied past sexual assault; non-graphic mentions of past physical assaut
When she awoke it was morning - she could tell by the sunlight bathing her and making her squint when she opened her eyes. The warmth was diffusing her entire body. She rolled onto her back, wincing slightly, but the pain had somewhat faded, and gave a long, luxurious stretch accompanied by a lazy yawn. It was the best way to wake up that she could imagine. Well, the only thing that could have made it better would have been if Langwidere was still in bed, but she could hear the queen moving around in another room of the suite.
"Good morning!" she called.
Langwidere appeared from her changing room, gloriously naked. West would have cat-called but for the serious look on the queen's face.
Hesitantly, Langwidere made her way to the bed and sat on the edge of it, folding her hands in her lap and staring at the far wall, unable to look at Mistress West as she spoke. But she wanted to do it. "I was eight years old," she began in a quiet voice.
West's langorous mood vanished in an instant, replaced by rapt attentiveness.
"My mother had been out drinking that evening, and seeing as how we were so rich, she felt the need to gamble with things other than money."
Mistress West did not like where this story seemed to be heading.
"Naturally, her eight-year-old daughter was the perfect wager." She didn't bother to keep the bitterness out of her voice, and even laughed disdainfully at the next part. "At least she had enough sense to try to back out of the deal when she lost."
West's hands tightened into fists, fresh anger boiling through her blood for something that had happened over a decade before.
"Well, maybe not sense," Langwidere continued, rubbing her index fingers over the nails on her thumbs. "Love, I suppose. But she was very drunk and stood no chance against a table full of gambling men. So when she tried to interfere, they knocked her unconscious and dragged me out from under the table, kicking and screaming." She sighed, staring at her hands. "I'll spare you the gory details, but there were no shortage of cuts and burns, as you can see. The more unspeakable things healed, so to speak, and that's that."
West climbed off the bed and walked around it to kneel in front of the queen. "Princesa," she began, her throat choked with emotion, "I will murder every last one of them with my bare hands, should they still draw breath."
Whatever reaction she had expected, that wasn't it, and Langwidere's eyes snapped to the witch's, pleasantly awestruck. She found herself blushing for the first time she could remember. "Even my mother and father never promised me that. Their solution was masks and long-sleeved dresses."
"I won't speak ill of the dead, since you loved them, so I will simply say that my solution is far superior."
Langwidere laughed and pulled Mistress West's head into her lap, stroking tangled hair as she so loved to do. "I wouldn't know where to find them. Or even if they do still draw breath."
"Then it's a good thing you have your very own witch hell-bent on avenging your suffering."
"My very own?" Langwidere asked, heart skipping a beat.
"Don't forget the part about avenging your suffering," West teased wryly.
"I am still swooning over the 'my very own' part," the queen admitted. "Is that true?"
West let the humor evaporate and looked up at the queen. "I should think so," she said quietly. "I feel as though I belong to you... in a non-objectifying sense, of course..."
"I like having something so pretty belong to me," Langwidere said with a grin. "Something I didn't buy."
"I think the word you're looking for is 'someone'. I said non-objectifying sense," West reminded her, biting her lip with a little snort of laughter.
"Too late... you're mine," Langwidere said happily. "Though I would be a terrible liar if I didn't confess that I am yours as well. Turning you across my knee for a good spanking does not make me any less yours than would lying beneath you as you claimed me."
West grinned. "Well in the interest of linear logic, we can simply say that I belong to you, but we will both always know the whole truth."
"I find your thinking to be flawless," Langwidere said, pulling her up for a kiss.
"I'm glad we agree on something."
"Cheeky."