Summary: Narcissa grew fond of the man she was betrothed to, but an ex-courter did not approve and wanted to make sure she knew.

Rated: T

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Warning Tag: Physical Abuse; Attempted R*pe

Pureblood Truths

Narcissa quietly sipped at the champagne offered to her for the celebratory toast that was custom for a coming-of-age party. Lucius turned seventeen. He was her betrothed and someone she had slowly grown fond of over the last year when they were formally arranged. Though the wedding wasn't planned until they both were eighteen, she finally found herself looking forward to it more and more as the days passed.

She caught his eye and she smiled at him. He raised his glass her way and she mimicked the gesture. Narcissa couldn't be with him on the balcony, but it shouldn't be long before he sought her out on the dance floor.

That is, until Thorfinn honed in on her from across the room. Narcissa made sure to put as many people between her and him as possible, but there were only so many places to go. It wasn't until she watched from the corner of her eye as he weaved through the crowd like a predator stalking its prey did she wish that Lucius could be done with the formalities and be with her.

Swallowing hard, she put on a stiff smile and turned to face him, offering a curt nod his way in greeting. She had found his presence intimidating ever since her family chose Lucius over him for their betrothal ceremony, and he made sure he expressed his opinion on the matter every chance he got.

"Miss Black," he said, holding out a hand, "May I?"

She reluctantly accepted his hand and was led to the dance floor. The music wasn't too slow paced, but just slow enough to make the proper dance be uncomfortable for her to easily fall into due to her partner. Her stiffness didn't seem noticed by Thorfinn, however.

"You can change your mind," he hissed while almost jerking her around in his lead, "Everyone says we make a better match. Why not honor that?"

Narcissa would curl her lip in disgust if she knew it wasn't ladylike or proper. She would've declined the dance too if she didn't have an image to uphold. He acted like she had a choice in the matter, which she did not. Marrying out of an arranged marriage was highly frowned upon.

"You know as well as I that what has been settled between our families is final. There are far better suitors for yo—"

She found herself being pulled away from the ballroom then, the iron grip on her delicate wrist burned as the man drug her in his wake away from curious eyes. He didn't make it exactly subtle, either, but no one bothered to question them. No one ever did.

Only when Narcissa heard the door slam behind her did she start to feel really scared. Thorfinn was built like a Greek statue; broad shouldered, firm chest, tall, and fierce looking. The cold icy-blue eyes and prominent browline gave him a primitive look, and he reflected this in his behavior. She would freely admit she'd admire him from afar, but more in a way of how she would observe a kitsch work of art rather than out of desire.

She tried to get as far from him as the small powder room allowed, but the fear that settled in her chest made it difficult for her to resist her fight or flight instinct she had been trained to dismiss.

"Now Thorfinn, this is not necessary. I have no power in this," she tried to reason with him, but the firm grasp on her shoulders told her he was beyond listening now.

"I know you influenced the decision, Narcissa," he growled, eyes glinting as he came ever closer to her. "I had you. You were mine."

Her chest rose and fell quickly; she grew dizzy from it. "Nothing was promised, nothing signed."

He slammed her against the wall, ripping her sleeve at the force of his grip. She squeezed her eyes closed, keeping the tears from welling at the pain. When Thorfinn pressed himself against her further, she felt him harden from the situation, from the power he was forcing on her.

No…

Narcissa took in a breath, feeling the fire linger from where he touched her; the warning signs her instinct was screaming at her to fight, to run.

She jerked her knee upward as hard as she could, connecting with his groin with such force she never knew she could muster. Without hesitation, she pushed against his shoulders with all her strength, shoving him back and giving her just enough room to get to the door and run.

Thorfinn cursed her name as she ran back toward the party, trying to straighten her frock in the process. When she was back in the ballroom she found the quietest corner with a chesterfield and collapsed onto it.

Narcissa shivered, taking shaky, heaving breaths and she felt the tears well in her eyes again. Lucius found her almost immediately, taking the empty spot beside her and grabbing his handkerchief from his pocket to offer her.

"Hey, my love. What happened to you?"

He could tell she had been roughed up, and she knew the look in his storming grey eyes were reserved to whoever had done this to her.

Unable to speak, she simply dabbed at her eyes to preserve her makeup before leaning heavily against him for comfort and support. Words didn't need to be said as to who the culprit was, Lucius knew exactly who it was, and his wrath was not going to be held back this time.

Originally Written For:

Monthly Challenges for All

Word Count: 925

Written: February 2021