dark academia love stories

old money living in the french countryside

We were to wed that summer. Amongst the orchards and the apricots. It was a political proposition. She didn't like me much, not that I was quite sure, for we hadn't spoken all summer long. A quick glance, eyes like a ghost across the table.

The stairs creaked as I went down to dinner. Their tarnished oak supple beneath my bare feet. She was beautiful. Backless dress. Showing every curve, every crevasse of her spine. The lush green highlighting her irises. Speckled green and brown, like a forest one might get lost in.

'Good evening.'

I nod my head in acknowledgment. I was not one for conversation. We head to dinner. Our families are waiting. Expectantly. Their young jewels come to complete the family crown. Expectation. To be the best. Or if that was unattainable, at least pretend you were the best. That you lived like the best, acted like the best. For that was one thing we were best at: acting.

Dinner was grand meal. Extravagant meats, and fruits from the garden. Sickly sweet syrup dripping down my chin. Indulgence.  For when you had money, why not spend it?

'A drink my dear?'

Her head tilted slightly, almond eyes batting affectionately.

'...yes.'

My throat was dry from the heat. Course like sandpaper. She handed me a small tumbler of a caramel liquor. I swirled it around the glass, its tawny hue almost yellow in the mediterranean sun.

'Thank you my love.'

I replied momentarily. I took a sip. The liquid rich on my tongue. Like molten bronze. Slipping quickly down my throat. But before I could finish the glass, I found my self choking. Gasping for breath as my throat caved in. I fell to the ground. Coughing and spluttering. Sickly sweet foam in my mouth.

She stood above me. Her eyes hollow with guilt. But as she stooped to face me, they grew dark. Malevolent. And as I closed my eyes, leaving the small smirk that graced her face behind. I felt a trickle behind my neck. Bitter lemon.

'You're welcome my love.'