TW: domestic abuse, parental pressure
@flashfictionfridayofficial
Dai could felt his hand on her back.
She did her very best not to recoil.
This was where she was supposed to be, this is the place she had been meant to be.
It didn't matter that it wasn't the one that she had wanted.
Nor did it matter that she didn't love Alaric Mulvey, or even liked him all that much.
He was powerful, his family was well regarded, he was rich, society adored him.
Dai should probably think herself lucky that he was just five years older than her, instead of twenty, and that he was handsome enough, but she really didn't.
Of course, she knew she could have had it worse. She was thankful that it wasn't.
That didn't mean that she was happy by any means, though.
Or that it wasn't hard for her to act like the pretty, polite little fiancée Alaric and her parents wanted her to be.
It didn't mean that she didn't dread the future of being a mother and wive, but nothing more.
It didn't mean that Dai didn't imegan the touch of the man she was to marry, by to be the hand of someone else. Someone that didn't see her as nothing but a pawn in the game that was high society. Someone that didn't believe her to be a burden he had to take upon him to get the alliance of her parents.
A person that didn't tell the woman he was to wed that she should just do here part.
That hadn't just told her to her face that they thought nothing of her, that they didn't intend to stay faithful in the slightest, but expected her to be.
Someone that didn't threaten to hurt her, or just break off the deal that was so important to her family, if she didn't act like he wanted her to.
His hand wandered from her back to her waist, pulling her closer, while smiling about something the certainly powerful and well regarded man in front of them said.
Dai did her best to smile at the man that made some jocks regarding how obedient she was and if she would be like that in bed to.
It was really revolting, she tried her best to just tune out what was said. It wasn't like anyone cared what she thought anyway, not here. No one expected her to do anything but look pretty and appear like she was happy that she was going to marry Alaric. The latter took enough of her energy already, she didn't have to hear that man also treating her like a priced pet. Not today.
Today she would just ignore everything and try to conjure any happy memory that would prevent her from braking out of the role she had been assigned.
She thought about the philosophy and since studies with Alim, when he visited the house of his benefactors.
And the races when riding out with Sameria the young noble woman her parents had employed in the hope of getting Dai to become more of a proper lady.
Or Sameria's hands on her hips when she had caught her during a game of catch, pressing Dia's back against a tree. The smile in her eyes, the closeness of her lips-
Dia had to stop herself before she could continue that path, down to the memory of the last time she had spoken to her companion and feel all the pain letting go of her again.
Instead, she tried to think of Conner making jokes to cheer her up after her parents had once again for bidden her from doing anything they deemed improper, like attending a lecture on new finds in biology, or going to a tea party with a woman known for her progressive views.
Of Conner when they had been younger, and he had not been her guard yet, just a servant boy that was brave enough to stay by her side even if her parents had forbidden Dia to spend time with children not of her standing.
Of getting Deror, even as a colt, elegant and so warm.
Tried to think of summer picknicks with friends, discussions of art, politics and science.
Of the way the strawberries had made Sameria's lips looked even more red and pretty. Of thinking about how they would taste if she leaned in-
No, she couldn't, she couldn't allow her self to think about her.
Dia would marry this man, she would be his wife.
And Sameria would continue to be a strong woman. One that carved her own way. That knew her around politics and continually rouse though society's ranks, building a place for herself where she could be herself, and powerful.
Sameria would be a woman that didn't just give into pressure, that overcame social norms to become one of the few powerful women in their own right this pretentious lot had.
Dia would only be able to watch, no longer able to talk to her about politics or about Dia's own scientific studies. She would never lean against Sameria while going through papers, listening to the soft sounds the woman Dia loved made while strategizing, or reading the news.
It was suddenly hard to breath.
She would never be with Sameria again. Never play catch while on a picnic. Never again would that woman press her against a tree and kiss her after catching Dia.
She would never be able to hold Sameria in her arms again, never again see he contrasts of her own lighter skin against Sameria's dark one.
Dia turned to the man next to her, "I need to excuse myself for a moment, dear." she says before leaving the man she was to marry behind to grieve over the woman she would have wanted to, if that would have been possible. She would have ignored her parents' will if she would have married Sameria.
She left the ballroom into the direction of the next bath, not show make her suffering obvious.
She should have ignored their will to leave with Sameria as the woman had offered.
Dia let herself fall against a wall when she was far enough out of sight to feel safe enough to let her mask slip for a moment.
She wanted to run away and find Sameria.
She couldn't stand this. But she had to.
Welcome, hope you liked this story!
To be honest I'm not all that happy with the ending.
But at about eight hundred words, the tragic lesbians forced them self suddenly into this story much more than I wanted them to.
I consider writing a continuation to this where I reunite Sameria and Dia.
This is a story that is probably not going to be one of my favorites, but I really like the Dia and Sameria as characters.
Feedback and constructive criticism are really welcome
