Categories > Original > Erotica > Bound in Shadows
Drystan regretted mentioning it the moment Malvolia released his face and left the room, her regal demeanor replaced by an unsettling silence. In her absence, a godforsaken imp appeared, its grotesque form unsettling to behold. Drystan sighed, resigned to the routine.
"Just leave the food at the door, like always," he muttered.
"No," the imp replied, its voice carrying a note of urgency. "I need to talk to you about Her Majesty."
"Malva?" Drystan asked, puzzled.
The imp nodded, and Drystan leaned forward, curiosity piqued. "What about her?"
"Her Majesty, sir. Not just 'her,'" the imp corrected, its eyes gleaming with a strange intensity.
"What about Her Majesty?" Drystan amended, sensing the weight of the imp's words.
The imp settled in front of Drystan, pushing the tray of food toward him. "She is... not well. That's why we've been tending to you. She believes you are her husband, her mind is convinced, set on it. She says we're hiding you from Her Majesty."
"She thinks... what?" Drystan's voice was a whisper of disbelief.
The imp sighed, a sound of weary resignation. "It's not my place to disclose, but Her Majesty has... a sickness of the mind. She convinces herself of things, creates fantasies. We—my colleagues and I, the other servants—believe she's taken a liking to you, and thus... you are her husband in her eyes."
Drystan stared, trying to process the revelation. The imp continued, its tone earnest.
"Her Majesty has always known exactly what she wanted. She's selective when it comes to men, never having taken a husband before, but in you, she sees... something."
"So you're saying...?" Drystan began, his mind reeling.
"I'm saying Her Majesty is convinced you are her husband, and it is my duty to serve Her Majesty's best interests as head imp. Therefore, I command you... to go along with it."
"Just leave the food at the door, like always," he muttered.
"No," the imp replied, its voice carrying a note of urgency. "I need to talk to you about Her Majesty."
"Malva?" Drystan asked, puzzled.
The imp nodded, and Drystan leaned forward, curiosity piqued. "What about her?"
"Her Majesty, sir. Not just 'her,'" the imp corrected, its eyes gleaming with a strange intensity.
"What about Her Majesty?" Drystan amended, sensing the weight of the imp's words.
The imp settled in front of Drystan, pushing the tray of food toward him. "She is... not well. That's why we've been tending to you. She believes you are her husband, her mind is convinced, set on it. She says we're hiding you from Her Majesty."
"She thinks... what?" Drystan's voice was a whisper of disbelief.
The imp sighed, a sound of weary resignation. "It's not my place to disclose, but Her Majesty has... a sickness of the mind. She convinces herself of things, creates fantasies. We—my colleagues and I, the other servants—believe she's taken a liking to you, and thus... you are her husband in her eyes."
Drystan stared, trying to process the revelation. The imp continued, its tone earnest.
"Her Majesty has always known exactly what she wanted. She's selective when it comes to men, never having taken a husband before, but in you, she sees... something."
"So you're saying...?" Drystan began, his mind reeling.
"I'm saying Her Majesty is convinced you are her husband, and it is my duty to serve Her Majesty's best interests as head imp. Therefore, I command you... to go along with it."
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