Velvet and Crimson

Lady Sanguine reclined slightly in a high velvet wingback chair in the parlor room of the Sapphire Siren. Her features were pensive as she swirled the amber liquid in her glass, its faint iridescence catching the light of the softly glowing lanterns. Her raven-black curls framed her heart-shaped face, cascading in perfect waves that bounced back into place as she casually ran her gloved fingers through them.

The parlor was a serene yet striking vision, infused with nautical elements that evoked the depths of the sea. Brass mermaids adorned the walls, and the copper ceiling gleamed in the flickering candlelight. A plush decorative rug softened the floor, while a large oak table commanded the center of the room. Its surface was an intricate masterpiece, carved with twisting tentacles and runes of the sunken—a nod to the mysteries of the ocean deep.

It was a rare moment of peace. The Lady was alone, though her second, Aeris, stood just outside the door. In the distance, the faint clamor of guests echoed—glasses clinking and conversations flowing with ease.The night was cool and crisp, the fire crackled on near her.

Lady Sanguine removed her bloodstained gloves with deliberate care. Though no stranger to violence, it still left its mark on her. She set the gloves aside and placed her glass on the table. Across the room, a mirror reflected the aftermath: her white, ruffled blouse speckled with blood, faint traces streaking her face.

With a steady hand, she laid her pistol on the table. The white grips bore bloody fingerprints, and the barrel was coated in dried crimson—a stark reminder of the life she led, where peace was a fleeting illusion. Yet this mattered little; the recipient of her last bullet now lay sprawled on a billiards table in another room.

His blood seeped into the green velvet, staining it crimson. His crime? Treason. In this life, loyalty was everything, and betrayal was met with swift and unrelenting justice. He was merely another casualty in a world where allegiance was the highest currency.

She picked up her glass and retreated to the chair she had been seated in. The velvet dipped slightly beneath her as she relaxed, her glass once again swirling idly in her hand. Her thoughts began to wander—a rare indulgence, and a dangerous one at that.

She trusted Aeris to maintain order outside the door. He was a force unto himself, unwavering and deadly. From her seat, she could just make out his faint outline beyond the doorframe, the glint of a stray lock of his teal hair catching the light like a silent promise of vigilance.

She slowly counted her breaths, grounding herself as her thoughts began to drift. In these rare unguarded moments, her mind always went to him. The parlor faded around her, replaced by a faraway place where she was known only as Lady.

After all, she had no real name—not anymore. She had paid that price to the Sunken in exchange for her life. It was a bargain she could never undo, one that left her tethered to a title rather than an identity.

Only once had someone given her an identity. Magnus Quinn had called her Carissima.

Her mind lingered on the memory, spiraling deeper into it as she allowed herself to lose herself in the past. She faded into a lush landscape the place known as the Seafoam Garden, nestled in the Point of Veil. She had been lost among the hedges, waiting for him. They had promised to meet there, under the cover of darkness.

Lady was not one for such things. But Magnus, with his charm and undeniable presence, had a magnetic pull. And so, she allowed herself to surrender—just a little.

He grabbed her by the waist with a grin that was utterly infectious, letting out a chuckle that seemed to light up the moment. Magnus’ firm grip held her close, his crisp uniform—a deep navy blue and silver insignia of a Royal Navy admiral—pressed against her. The fabric, tailored and sharp, gave him an air of rugged elegance, the kind of man who was as commanding as he was striking.

“Witch Queen,” he whispered in her ear, his voice carrying a magnetic pull that sent a shiver down her spine.

“Loathsome curr,” she murmured, turning in his embrace.

“Is that how you tell someone you love them, Carissima?” Magnus grinned as their eyes met.

She could still feel the heat of the moment, each detail etching itself into her memory. She was something to hold onto, something real.   She loved him—perhaps the only person she truly loved.

They sat together in a quiet cove of the garden, lost among the flowers and the soft evening air. Both of them stealing moments that the world didn’t want them to have.

“Fine,” she whispered, “I love you.”

Magnus pulled her closer, the unspoken bond between them deepening in the stillness of the garden. He had whispered his secrets and dreams to her in the darkness of night, the soft glow of the moon their only companion. This moment was something she held close to her heart, a guarded treasure she cherished.

Magnus had promised—he’d find a way to reclaim her name, to set her free so she could be his.

“Carissima, I’ll find a way for you to be mine,” he murmured between kisses.

“Magnus, you can’t mean to stand against a god,” she confessed, her breath hitching in their heated embrace.

“You will be mine.” His words echoed in the depths of her heart as she stared into his eyes, knowing he meant every part of it. The memory lingered, pulling her deeper into the sensation of him—how he tasted when he kissed her, the way he smelled of leather and salt spray from the sea.

“Lady.” A voice called her name, dragging her from her reverie, from that secret stolen moment. Aeris stood just inside the door now, his presence steady, though his tone held a gentleness that betrayed him.

“It’s time to go,” he said, his words soft yet firm.

Lady carefully knocked back the rest of the amber liquid, letting the burn slide down her throat as it warmed her insides. She slid her bloodstained gloves back on, the leather tight against her skin, and tucked her pistol back into its holster.

She looked at her reflection one last time, her dark eyes lingering on the bloodstone pendant that hung from her neck. The intricate piece was a gift from Magnus. She brushed her fingers over it, as if to connect with him, to remind herself of what she had lost.

She would find a way back to him.