Merde (Levi x OC)

Chapter 1: Révolte

I was always taught to never learn. It's a peculiar thing, isn't it? As a lady, I was taught that females weren't as important as their male counterparts. Or perhaps, that may have just been my families way of punishing me for not being a boy to carry on the Bourgeois family name. In retaliation to my existence, I was denied schooling. Girls don't need to read or write. They're only good for making men happy and birthing children. 

Since the family name was doomed, I was raised with as much elegance and grace my rich family could muster. I was well groomed, taken care of, but I was not happy. I wished to know what those little scrawls on paper called 'letters' meant. I wanted to write legible words beautiful manuscript across parchment. I wanted to paint beautiful images using my head as a canvas and my eyes as brushes. 

It was noon, I had just finished my afternoon tea when there was a slight knock on my white bedroom door. I silently set the dainty cup down and gazed around my spic and span, victorian room. It was all bright and pale shades of luxurious white. A large, queen size bed sat in idle wait, the sheets tucked so tight you could bounce a coin off it. 

"Eloise, sir Dabney from the noble house of Thane is here to make your acquaintance," It was my mother's voice, soft and drone as if the very concept of socializing with me was a tedious task. I don't doubt that it was. I let out a tiresome sigh as I rose to my feet, smoothing out my slightly wrinkled white dress and fixated the thin golden chain around my neck.

It was quite the joke if I was being honest. Some people, no, all people wanted the fancy things I was spoiled with. Whether it be diamond rings, a fattening meal, a different wardrobe nearly every day. Here I was with all of that, yet I still felt so unhappy like I was missing something. I was only ever taught that women were inferior to men, perhaps I was missing a husband? After all, that's why Sir Dabney from the noble house of Thane was here, to release my parents of their almost sixteen-year-long burden. 

The corridors of the mansion were filled with marble and potted plants to overly boast my parent's wealth. My heels clicked gently against the floor, echoing softly through the halls. I kept my gaze averted to the ground, furrowing my eyebrows in deep thought as I gripped my white dress nervously with both hands. 

At last, I entered the formal hall where my parents sat on separate couches. A new gentleman had joined them and several military police rimmed the room. It was bright and warm in the room, the chandelier hanging from above cast small prismatic rainbows across the rooms. It wasn't 'love at first sight', but common science I had learned from briefly speaking to scholars at formal parties. Merely a fascinating phenomenon caused by light. 

My mother was tall and dark headed, keeping her hair trimmed to just below her shoulders. She had a fair face with dangerously sharp brown eyes and a thin-lipped smile. She kept her slender body hidden beneath fancy skirts and lovely blouses and usually had her hair piled in a braided bun at the top of her head. Those brown eyes sharply cut to me, giving me a cold smile. I had become accustomed to its frigidity over the years...

"Eloise, how nice of you to join us," She greeted, her voice alluring as my father barely turned to acknowledge me, taking a sip from his glass of brandy. My father was a stocky man with graying blonde hair and watery blue eyes. He kept a trimmed mustache above his lips, and had I not known better, I simply would have thought he lacked an upper lip. 

My father, the heir to the name Bourgeois, was an embodiment of power. There were secrets in our legacy I was still clueless of and I doubted I would ever know. The only answer I had ever received was when I was eight, and my mother simply told me, 'Daddy did a lot of very bad things when he was younger' in response to my question of why he drank so vigorously. We weren't close, in fact, I hardly believe he's said more than a hundred words to me since I entered this world kicking and screaming. 

"I apologize for my tardiness, I came as quickly as you had asked," I apologized, giving a small bow before my blue eyes glanced up and widened ever so slightly upon seeing the man I presumed to be Dabney Thane. He was older, much older. Probably in his mid to late thirties, with was a massive decade and a half, if not more, older than me. His black hair was slicked back, revealing more of his broad masculine face. 

His guttural green eyes peered down at me and a leering green stretched across his face as my heart began to pound in my feeble chest. Not with first love jitters, but with my well sharpened 'fight or flight' instincts. Something wasn't right. My middle finger on my right hand began to titter against my thigh. 

"So this is the beautiful Eloise," He breathed, taking long strides over to me and taking my hand in his warm, leathery ones. It was like an uncomfortable zap and I quickly pulled away, my stomach curdling as I bowed to this man respectfully. "My, I can see the rumors were not overexaggerated. Such beauty," 

"Thank you," I mumbled, looking off to the side. Of all the years of living with splendors, I assumed the one thing my hormonal, sixteen-year-old mind was missing was a husband. I was at the wedding age, of course. But as I took one look at this man, I knew whatever I was missing, he wasn't it. 

"Sir Dabney is here to spend a little bit of time with you, and hopefully, take your hand in marriage," My mother told me as I heard my father fixing himself another glass of brandy. 

I was never one to speak out against my parents, in fact, I was very submissive mentally. But his arrogant stare that was undressing me with his mere eyes had my body revolting. He was a disgusting man. I knew it. By his actions and the few words he had spoken alone, he was a bad man. 

"Won't you mind escorting me to through your lovely home-," He had begun, offering me his hand. His words fell short when I swiftly turned my back to him and began to walk away, hearing my mother impatiently shouting after me. 

"I sincerely apologize, Sir Dabney, however, I feel that my stomach has grown rather ill," I said softly as I walked away, feeling his heated, repugnant gaze lingering on my back much to my distaste. "Please, allow me to take my leave for the evening,"

"But...it's only just the afternoon?" I heard him manage out with much confusion and a small smile twisted around my small, peach lips. 

"So it would seem,"