Chapter 221: Prisoner in Luxury

[1 Month After Arriving in Danmor]

Stirring out of bed, Isis grabbed her face, her nails digging into her scalp as it pulsed; the hangover was worse than it usually was. She sat still for a moment, simply listening to the distant bustle of Danmor, the sound soothing the pain in her head, and when her eyes finally focused, she got up. The room was clean, save for the bottle of wine on the floor with a small red stain underneath it.

Walking over to the dresser prepared for her, she pulled out a long, tight-fitting black dress that was cut at the shoulders. Although beautiful, the material was soft to the touch and the design elegant without being too much; she still hated the dress and everything else in the dresser.

They were, at the end of the day, all made with the sole purpose of making her an object of desire. Some invoked sexual desire by being thinner and allowing more skin. Others made someone feel protective, being extremely modest, almost religious in design. She was sure that if she suited it, Justinian would dress her as a child just to ensure people continued to want to fight his war.

A knocking echoed on the door, and Isis knew it was servants waiting for her, asking to come in and help. Had she been home in Veston, meeting with a Lord and staying in their residence, she might have accepted; after all, it felt nice to be treated so well and to have dressing made far easier. But here, she couldn’t. Being surrounded by his identical slaves as they worked on her felt wrong. Their touch, their smiles, their help- none of it was right.

Pulling the final strap on and zipping the back up, Isis looked at herself and noticed the dress looked different on her after a month. Where before she was slim, there was now a small bump in her stomach. It was hardly noticeable when wearing dark colours, but in such a clear and sleek white dress it was obvious.

"Whatever." Scoffing and shaking her head, she looked at herself. Her white hair was a mess, parts frizzled after her sleep. It was a quick solve to at least look presentable. What wasn’t was her face. The deep bags under her eyes kept getting worse. Her sleep had been terrible after the colosseum speech, and drinking until she couldn’t think properly was the only way she could begin to even try to sleep, but it was never good. Mixed with the alcohol itself, her eyes had slowly gotten worse to the point that a heavy amount of makeup was needed to cover them.

Finally, her lips. They were incredibly dry, something that didn’t feel right considering how much she’d drunk, but true nonetheless. Sighing, she stepped before her desk and opened two drawers, revealing numerous pieces of makeup and tools. She could get away with the slight weight gain, but Justinian had his plans. If he was to parade her to gather support for his war and keep it, she needed to look like she was recovering from the horrors they said she experienced in Cras.

Deep bags, cracked lips, unkempt hair. None of it spoke of a person thriving, but a person barely going on. Her work was quick, something she had gotten practised at, and the bags under her eyes were gone, the makeup blending perfectly with her unblemished white skin. Next, the lips: applying a solution that Justinian had prepared herself, she kissed her lips together before applying a red colouring to bring more life to her face. With her dazzling bright blue eyes and the red lips that, although coloured, looked natural, it pulled the attention away from the issues she hid.

Stepping back, she picked up her satchel and put it on, even if it didn’t suit her outfit and stepped out. Three maids, all with the same haircut and similar looks, were waiting and bowing when they saw her, the collars on their necks moving with them.

"Lady Isis, please rely on us more." The one half a step ahead of the other two, with a flattering tone, looked at Isis with a thin smile, copied by the other two.

"Forgive me, I am not used to being treated so well. Even after so long." Looking back at her room, she touched the satchel and nodded, knowing she had everything of importance in it. "If you don’t mind, can you please clean my room? Also, prepare a bottle of wine for my return."

"There is no need to ask or forgive, Lady Isis. We live to serve." The maid said with a bow, followed by the other two, and before Isis could counter, he stepped in, surveying the sight before deciding how to tackle the job. Walking ahead, a new servant followed behind; unlike the maids, a collar didn’t exist on his neck. "For breakfast today, we have porridge made from three different wheats with fruits." The words came through one ear and out the other, Isis turning the corridors, wondering why he continued to follow behind.

Walking through the halls that were far too large for a building, filled with artwork that deserved to be seen by the public and not hoarded by one man, she arrived at the dining room and opened the door, freezing, seeing Justinian sat at the table, his chin resting atop the back of his hands, the small smile that wasn’t real sat on his face, mockingly looking at her. Much like always, he wore light clothing, light blue in colour; his appearance, paired with his brown hair, left unkempt, gently danced whenever he made a subtle movement.

His brown eyes, however, worked over her body, looking her up and down, scrutinising everything he could see, but never showing what he thought. "My dear. Come." His voice was soft but insidious to her, and stepping forward, Isis knew she didn’t have much of a choice.

Justinian rose, blocking her path before she could take a seat, his hand moving and touching her stomach, poking it, pushing his finger as deep as he could. After a moment of his cold touch that pierced the thin fabric, he pinched at the small amount of fat she had gotten, squeezing as hard as he could. Letting out a low gasp of pain did nothing to stop him, as he shook his head and chuckled.

"This. This won’t do." He spoke coldly, the thin smile not matching his tone. His finger continued to tighten, and Isis had to bite her tongue to force herself not to yell and try to hit his hand away. "My dear. I need you, beautiful. Men are far more willing to fight for beauty. Such a lack of care for yourself makes me question how serious you are about your responsibilities."

"I’m... I’m sorry." Shaking his head, he finally let go, making Isis sigh in relief. Her hand unconsciously rubbed where he pinched, as Justinian sighed.

"I know about your nightly ritual of drinking a bottle of wine. If you are going to do that and not care for your body, I will be forced to stop it. I can hide your real face, but this..." his eyes indicated down towards her stomach, "Is much harder."

"Can we eat?" Isis forced the words out under her breath, making him clap his hands and step to the side. Taking a seat, the moment she sat down, he slammed his hands atop her shoulders. They moved in a disgusting way, not out of any perverse desire but simply to check her body for more fat. Squeezing and loosening his touch, it was almost like a massage if only his touch wasn’t cold and uncomfortable.

"Today, we are meeting a few important men. They have placed large stakes in this war with Cras and wish to meet you." With a final squeeze of her shoulders, he let go and clicked his fingers; a servant placed a bowl of porridge before her at the click. "After that, Augustus wishes for you to meet him. He has a request for you."

Isis stared at the white bowl of porridge, and touching the spoon, she played with it for a moment. "When can I see Seth?" Thinking of him, it had been over a week since they had last seen each other. Whilst she was in a prison in luxury, Justinian knew he couldn’t do the same thing for Seth. She had asked about it, and the answer was easy. He was Lunarian nobility. She was fine to keep under control, having no such thing protecting her, but he was another case. That didn’t include the other means he could use to escape such constraints without pulling rank.

"In time. The old butler is doing his own thing and cannot be so readily available." Spinning, Justinian moved to the head seat and took his place. Without needing to give the order, a bowl of porridge was placed before him. "When you finish, you shall bathe and re-dress. I do not want to be embarrassed when we meet these men."