Part I.


The rain fell heavy and weighed down his soul as much as it made his coat feel like a burden. The pool of water that his hat did its best to prevent would strike against his neck no matter how much he used the collar of his coat as a shield, and the return to Venice only made the bleak outlook feel all the more a punishment. Was this to be his torture for hurting someone so? Nicholas didn’t deserve such treatment.

In his thoughts he found they went often to the Prince and through the entire ride home he wanted nothing more than to take everything he said back, but the wars were careful in the way they showed their true colors. What he had done needed to be done so and without much of a chance to think. He was sure the boy would recover but the way he pulled on that mask, the one that hid away his emotions, made Ashley’s heart feel heavy and suffer.

Life would have to go on.

Through many keepers Ashley had gone through when it came to caring for the boy, his ward, while he was gone, and each time he came back to a frazzled old face angry from something the native did to upset them. Once it had been the placing of a rat’s skull in their soup or the skin of a snake at their feet. Some would run screaming while the others would demand he pay double the rate for the next encounter, but never in his life had he expected what he came home to.

“He is a monster!” The woman spat in the face of Monroe as he stood soaked at her doorstep to collect the boy, “I don’t want to ever see you again.” She hissed and explained that she had left that spawn of satan where he belonged, and though the man before her darkened his doorstep she knew that there would be little retaliation for her actions. Otter, which in her opinion was a stupid name, could very well take care of himself. Upon the closing of the door Ashley sighed heavily knowing that he was close to running out of caretakers for the boy, and he returned to his boat to make his way home.

The afternoon was dark already and where he had expected to come home to a warm meal and a made bed he would be met with darkness. Had the boy been here this entire time on his own? With the loaf of bread and the bit of cheese left from his lunch he made his way inside.

Today’s attempt at his life was met with a knife nearly hitting his shoulder, but Ashley moved around it without even a second thought as he read over the first bit of mail he had to open. A letter from Clare was always a welcome pleasure, but for now he sifted through the business first.

“A little more to the left,” He looked up at the child who perched like a wild creature atop the bookcase as though it was his high-ground, and as always—hate in his eyes towards the American.

“Remind me to have your eyes checked, you seem to favor the right and often that is a sign of poor sight.” He put his hands upon his hips and looked at the boy, knowing that his words would be lost on the Native child that did not speak his language, “And I hear you scared off another keeper.”

The child’s dark eyes only narrowed as he held the edge of the bookcase as though preparing to pounce.

“Want to tell me why?” Ashley asked unfazed by the way he knew this kid hated him, he hated everything to do with the New World, but this was not without good reason. His answer was only met with the flop of a book from the shelf as though this wild thing was nothing more than an angry cat.

“Otter, listen…” He sighed and picked up the book before plucking the boy from his perch, “You have to learn the language, and I have to work. You can not keep doing this.” He sat the boy down in the chair and put the bread before him, and the dark haired child sighed. He was tired of bread.

“Well we would have something good if you could stop scaring them all away.” He put his own glasses on his nose and opened the letters to read at the table with the remaining light of the day, “The rat in the soup nearly gave Mrs. Miller an early grave.”

Typical dinner conversation, and the American Dream no?

Part II.
TW: Self Harm, Adult Content


Life went on, the days turned into nights and back again to signal the passing of a week that wanted nothing more than to turn the tide of time and Ashley was happy to allow it. In his heart he did not indulge in fantasies but he realized that his time with the Prince was something he wished he could retrieve. And yet…

“Ashley,” Her voice was distant despite the way she was curled her arms around his neck to look over his shoulder as he sat at his desk, “You have been reading that same document for hours now. Where are you?” On a normal night he would have been thankful to have her, her red hair and warm skin a reminder of someone else and yet every time she came into view all he could do was be thankful for the chance to feel brand new. At his back she pressed her body, her breasts large and full and the sweet scent of roses surrounded him and would have normally filled him with lust and desire but she only acted as a reminder of his reality.

“Forgive me,” he breathed and closed his eyes at the gentle kiss on his neck. Vala started to work her fingers over his shoulders and palmed at the muscle there just as he liked as though she knew exactly how to coax him from his place of pain.

“There is nothing to forgive,” Her voice low at his ear had once been the very thing to make his body react, her breath was warm and her lips soft as she kissed his neck once more over where his pulse held a steady rhythm from his heart. “You have been working so hard, you deserve a break.”

Vincenza, experienced in the art of passion, the temptress could remember his weak spots and places on his skin that was damn near sure to gain a reaction, and to that she set her task. Her fingers and palms ran over the expanse of his chest, up the proud column of his neck and against the fine lines of the hard body before her. Through his dark hair she ran her nails along his scalp and gave a content smile when he closed his eyes and leaned into her touch.

That’s it… she wanted to praise him—pull him from this wreckage and settle him between her thighs. She knew that he was well a near bottle of his latest vice, and that the glassy way his eyes darkened was half of desire and the rest release. The Courtesan would count this as a victory, and as she came to stand before him Ashley sat back to make room for her on his lap. However instead she preached on the edge of his desk and placed her foot over his cock to keep him at a distance.

This was not to be his symphony to conduct this evening.

“It has been a very long time since we have done this no?” She asked with a coy answer already on her lips, and undoing the top of her bodice to expose her breasts to the cool air; the bright pink of her nipples hardening as she let the tips of her fingers tease them further to stand.

“You like to watch me touch myself don’t you?” Her hand set out to find the glass he was so often with, and relied too much on and cast the amber liquid about so that it could swirl inside and fill the air with the honey and spice that gave the whiskey its flavor. His answer in the slight swell of his cock beneath her silk covered toes. The stockings and ribbons very fine and as always matched her gown. She pulled up her skirts to reveal her legs and the nakedness that wasn’t uncommon in the Courtesans of Venice. Her skin was clean, unmarked and freshly buffed to appear as untouched as a virgin’s may be, and even the bit of hair around her vulva was trimmed neatly and stripped to a small heart as was the trend from France.

She slipped her fingers into his bourbon to use the amber liquid to wet her nipple and chase away the chill from around her cunt. She knew that he liked to taste her as well his poison and this? Well it was the perfect pair of the two. From out to in she teased her own body and with her breaths coming in deep and fast she parted her lips to praise her own pleasure.

“It feels so good,” she breathed as she started to slowly work a finger into her body, “Ashley, won’t you help me? Do you want a taste?...Ashley?” His eyes were distant once more and when she tested his body with her toes she found it soft, and with a huff she put her skirts down once more.

“Benjamin Ashley Monroe.” There was not anger in her words but they did snap him back from his thoughts, “You have got to stop this.”

“I’m sorry I—“ He stopped the moment she took his chin in her hand to force his eyes up, “You need to get this idea out of your mind. You can not possibly think that you even have a chance.” Vincenza knew exactly what was going on behind his eyes, she would not have been one of the best in the business had she not. “Even you can not possibly think that he cares at all about you.”

At that Ashley pulled away from her as though he was burned and took his drink with him.

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” He lied as he emptied his glass and refilled it once more. The room was suddenly too warm and very much too small and with his back to her he tried to school his breaths and his panic.

“You know that I hate to see you like this, and it isn’t like you.”

You should have seen the hurt in his eyes, he wanted to offer her some sort of explanation. Nicholas had come to love him as a friend and think of him as a close confidant in such a short time that he knew the boy must have been willing to let down many walls to let him in, and Ashley simply let the stones crumble.

“I’ll be fine, and it isn’t like that. I just…things feel different. The world feels different, colder…darker.” His eyes were closed as he felt the room spin slightly and did not see the sweet smile that she gave him as she touched his arm before placing a kiss to his cheek.

“Yes, love, this is what happens when the heart has broken,” to his wrist she held her hand, and squeezed over the scar there she knew had once been an attempt of his to end his life, "And thought it may hurt, it also reminds us that we are alive."