Chapter 93: No Longer Your Knight
Night came slowly to Babylon.
The manor had not held this many guests and people in years, and every hallway carried movement or noise long after sunset.
The banquet was postponed at Lady Vivienne’s request, but Servants still carried blankets and warm water with coal and other items, as the Healers who came from Ironhold enjoyed a hearty stew and ale for their hard work.
Both knighthoods enjoyed a more relaxed evening after Luka allowed light alcohol consumption and a rest for half the troops.
Galatea guided Vivienne through everything from start to finish.
"This corridor leads to the inner guest wing, the rooms near the stairs are reserved for your maids and female healers, while the master bedroom is for Lady Vivienne."
"How thoughtful."
Vivienne walked beside her with light steps, hands folded before her waist. Her blue mantle was gone, replaced by a dark evening dress that made her pale skin seem softer beneath the lamps.
She was just too elegant and beautiful.
’Am I inferior to her?’
The kind of beauty that one couldn’t attain through hard work or effort.
A lifetime of swinging the sword left Galatea’s hands, body, and even her soul full of scars, callouses and wounds.
’Does Luka dislike this body?’
That’s why she shook her head.
A memory of his excitement at her in a night gown resurfaced.
"The chamber at the end is yours," Galatea continued. "Lord Luka ordered it prepared before dinner."
"Oh?"
Vivienne’s eyes curved.
"My dear husband prepared a room for me himself?"
"He ordered it prepared."
"That is almost the same."
"It is not."
Vivienne laughed quietly.
"Hohoho~ you dislike me, right?"
Galatea stopped before the chamber door.
"I have no personal feelings toward you."
"That is a lie."
The answer came so smoothly that Galatea’s hand twitched near her sword.
"I am Lord Luka’s knight."
"Yes."
Vivienne turned to face her, smiling with that delicate sweetness that never quite reached her eyes.
"And I am his fiancée."
Vivienne stepped closer.
"Don’t think of me as some bumbling fool, Knight. I am not foolish enough to think the smitten looks and stench of arousal from you bitches is nothing to worry about. Listen well, Knight. I will never allow Luka to leave me. Even if this world should burn into ashes, I will stay beside him, no matter what!"
’W-What!?’
Before she could refute her words.
Dozens of sharp spears made of shadow shot from the walls, floor and ceiling.
All of them pointing at her heart, throat and crotch.
Galatea’s chest thumped as she felt a pressure close to Luka’s when he fought in his wrath form... the shadows around Vivienne shifted... as if thousands of puppets were connected to a string, and she was the puppet master.
"Do not speak of this, Galatea."
"Y-You’re a Witch!?"
"Don’t speak of this to anyone, or I will kill you."
Despite Galatea’s question, Vivienne spoke her piece and stepped inside the room.
The door slammed shut a moment later.
"...."
For a moment, Galatea saw a different hall, a different sky, a different world. Lucifer stood above the ruined stone as she stood at his side. His hand reached toward her as if she had always belonged there.
But then... she transformed into Vivienne, then Luvia, then Vaun and even Iris and Brea.
Then the vision vanished.
She lowered her gaze at the countless faint wounds on her neck, stomach and thighs.
Galatea’s lips trembled as she stumbled against the wall.
She slammed her fist against it.
"Fuck!"
"Fuck!!!"
"What Fiancée!?" What Knight!"
She had endured Luvia, endured Brea, Vaun... She had endured seeing Luka’s eyes linger on other women and even endured the faint warmth in his gaze whenever Iris or Mildred approached him.
But Vivienne was different, someone she didn’t understand.
Vivienne had a place in Luka’s past.
A name attached to his future.
A promise Galatea couldn’t cut away with a sword.
After dinner, Luka had been polite to her. He kept Galatea at a subtle distance, as if to control his emotions.
Yet he received Vivienne as an honoured guest, thanked Ironhold for the aid and the healers, and spoke of Babylon’s wounded before speaking of himself. The two flirted alone over a long meal with several glasses of wine and countless romantic moments.
’I hate this...’
’I don’t want to lose to anyone else!’
His smile, his happiness and gentle words made her feel happy in the past, soothing her worries and fears that he might vanish again one day.
Not enough!
Those things weren’t enough of a promise!
Galatea turned from the guest wing and walked through the manor.
She ignored the lowered lightning, moving with adept and clear, focused steps towards her goal. Most servants had retired, but the knights that remained only gave her brief nods before quickly averting their gaze.
Be it the dangerous aura wrapping her body. The fact that she was Gerard’s daughter. Or the rumour of her becoming Lord Luka’s woman was also rife through the camp.
She reached her own room.
Opened the door.
Then stopped and looked inside.
"Is this what I seek?"
The bed was neatly arranged, with her armour stand leaning against the wall. Someone had already cleaned it, leaving it shimmering with a silver glow, and a large basin of steaming hot water sat in the centre.
Everything proper, everything that she once yearned for, even during those horrific days after suffering hell.
She thought these memories and moments were her dream.
’This isn’t it.’
However, Galatea had changed and found this room suffocating.
So she closed the door without entering, and her feet moved before her thoughts could catch them.
Down one corridor.
Past the old portrait of Cassian de Babylon.
Past the narrow window overlooking the courtyard.
Toward the room where Luka slept.
She told herself she needed to report on Vivienne.
That was reasonable.
She told herself she needed to confirm his safety.
That was her duty.
She told herself she would leave after a few words.
That was a pure lie.
Galatea stopped before his door.
The thin, golden flicker of candlelight slipped from beneath it.
She raised her hand, taking a breath.
Lowered it.
Then raised it again.
’What the hell am I doing?’
A knight did not sneak into her lord’s room at night.
A knight did not tremble because another woman called him husband.
A knight did not ache because she remembered another life where she had stood so close to him, yet never close enough.
That’s when her eyes opened, and the icy blue orbs shone with a flicker of deep purple Miasma. Her lips trembled before forming a faint smirk, almost self-deprecating, as her hand pressed against the wooden door.
’No... I am not here as a knight.’
Her eyes closed as she remembered when that disgusting Knight stared at her, his foul gaze followed by Vivienne’s tongue against Luka’s cheek and finally the strange situation of Luvia during breakfast...
Finally, his whisper in the dark of night as he held her close.
"Stay close."
Galatea’s hand tightened around the door handle.
"...Then I will."
She opened the door.
The chamber carried the faint scent of smoke, wine and Luka.
Galatea stepped inside and closed the door with care, leaving only the soft click of wood settling back into place. The candle beside his bed flickered halfway, its amber light barely touching his sleeping form like a gentle kiss.
Her fingers moved to the ties of her gambeson, loosening them one by one until the heavy cloth slipped from her shoulders. Her belt followed, then the thin shirt beneath, leaving her skin bare to the cool air and candlelight.
The faint wounds along her body, the scars of battle and training, no longer felt ugly.
Galatea stepped closer, breathing heavier with each silent step, then climbed onto the bed. The mattress dipped beneath her weight as she straddled him, her loose blonde hair falling around her face while her trembling hands touched the blanket covering his waist.
"Are you awake?" she whispered.
Luka did not answer her.
Galatea’s cheeks burned as she slowly dragged the blanket down, her fingers slipping beneath the loosened cloth of his drawers. Her breathing became faster as she found the soft heaviness flop into her palm, warm against her skin, so intimate that her act almost shattered on the spot.
Yet she did not pull away.
Instead, her fingers bent around him carefully, barely able to reach halfway as it started swelling within her grasp.
’So hot... and thick... did this thing really enter my mouth?’
"Luka..."
Galatea leaned over him, lips trembling near his.
"Tonight, I am not your knight."
She slowly lowered her hand, dragging his foreskin over his glans, revealing the bulbous dark tip of his manhood, already leaking thick, viscous fluid from the weeping tip.
"But your woman."
