Shackles of Eldridge - Pt.1 by Dome-Mane

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Being born into power shapes a man in ways he often doesn’t realize until it’s too late. As the Duke of Eldridge, I learned early on that the world would bend to my will. People catered to my every desire, not because they wanted to, but because they had to. It was a reality that I accepted and even relished in. And yet, there was one person who, despite being bound to me, never yielded to my control in the way others did—Godwin.


Godwin had been my sitter from the time I was a boy, tasked with looking after me when my parents were too busy with affairs of state. He was five years older than me, though looking at him now, you wouldn’t guess it. His youthful appearance remained unchanged, even as I grew into adulthood. There was something about him that both soothed and unsettled me, even when we were children.


He wasn’t like the others, the courtiers and servants who fawned over me, offering smiles that never reached their eyes. Godwin had a defiant streak, a casual way of treating me that often left me frustrated but fascinated. His handsome face, framed by that thick, wavy hair, seemed to mock me at times. It shone like gold in the sun, and it was the kind of hair that made you want to touch it just to confirm that it was real. He wore it long, often lazily pushed back, and it gave him a roguish charm that only made his independence all the more infuriating—and alluring.


Even as a boy, I admired him. Admired the way he never quite submitted, how he spoke to me as though I was his equal, even though I was destined to rule over everything. I watched him closely, my young mind not fully understanding what I felt. There were days when I would catch him running his fingers through his hair absentmindedly, as though the whole world wasn’t watching him. I found myself wondering how he had such freedom in the way he moved, how he seemed untouched by the obligations that bound me.


As I grew older, the admiration turned into something darker, something possessive. It wasn’t until Godwin left that I realized the full weight of what I had been feeling all those years. He didn’t just leave; he escaped. One day, he simply vanished from the estate, cutting ties with the family, cutting ties with me.


I was eighteen, newly titled as Duke, and still learning what it meant to wield power. At the time, I thought I could summon him back with a simple order. After all, I was the Duke. No one could just leave me. But Godwin had done just that, slipping through my fingers with that same effortless grace that had always marked his every move. And that’s when the realization hit me—Godwin had never truly been mine. Not in the way I had come to believe.


I spent the next few years pretending I didn’t care. Every smile I offered at court, every decision I made in ruling Eldridge—it was all a carefully woven mask, a distraction from the hollow ache I couldn’t quite explain. I had the attention of everyone and the power to command, yet the more they sought my favor, the more I felt the emptiness growing. Each flirtation felt shallow, every noble’s favor a mere echo of what I truly desired—something I had never fully understood until it was gone.


When Godwin left, it was like a part of me was stripped away, something vital. I had always assumed people would stay; that power meant never losing anyone. But he was different.


Godwin didn’t follow the rules of my world. He had defied me in ways no one else dared, not out of rebellion but because he saw me. Not the Duke, but me. And it terrified me that I hadn’t realized it sooner, that I had taken for granted what I couldn’t afford to lose.


So when the merchant spoke of a man traveling in the north, a man with the looks of an angel and the wit to match, my heart seized. I told myself it was about reclaiming what was mine, that Godwin had always belonged to me. But beneath that lie was something rawer, something that gnawed at my very core: I needed to see him again. I needed to know if the part of me that had gone missing was still out there or if he had truly slipped away forever.
That night, I lay awake in my chambers, staring at the ceiling, my thoughts consumed by memories of him. How had I been so blind? I had admired him, yes, but it was more than that. My admiration had turned to possession, a desire not just to have him near me but to control him. I hadn’t understood it then, but I did now.


Godwin’s departure had torn a hole in my world, one that no amount of titles or luxuries could fill. He had been the one person who saw through the title, the one person who treated me as though I was just a boy—an equal, someone he could spar with, tease, even defy. And I had taken it for granted, assuming that he would always be there, just as the sun rises and the seasons change.


But Godwin had left; he had sought freedom from the life I had forced him into. And now I wanted him back.

No, I needed him back.

It wasn’t just about seeing him again. Godwin may have believed he had severed all ties with me, but he would soon learn that a bond with a duke is not so easily broken. I would find him. I would remind him of who I was—and of who he was to me.


I imagined his reaction when I finally caught up to him—the way his eyes would flash with that familiar mix of amusement and defiance. I could almost hear his voice now, laced with that same playful challenge.


"Still chasing after me, Your Grace? Haven’t you found a new toy to occupy your time?"
I would smile at him, slow and deliberate, letting the tension stretch between us. "Some toys are irreplaceable, Godwin. You should know that by now."


He would laugh—that rich, infuriating laugh that always made my blood stir. But there would be something in his eyes—a flicker of understanding, perhaps even acknowledgment of what we both knew—that no matter how far he ran, no matter how many years passed, we were bound together by something neither of us could fully escape.


The thrill of it surged through me—a mixture of anticipation and something darker, something possessive. I had spent too long without him, and I was done waiting.


My search for Godwin had already begun. My men were combing the northern provinces, following every lead and every whisper. It was only a matter of time before I found him. And when I did, I would make sure he understood that freedom was not a thing he could take so easily from me.


He might have believed that he could cut ties with his past and with me, but he was wrong. I would remind him who I was—the Duke, the one who had watched him with admiration, with yearning, and now, with a possessive need to reclaim what had always been mine.
Godwin had escaped me once. It would not happen again.


And so I waited, each day drawing me closer to our inevitable reunion. The thought of it consumed me, filling my every waking moment with the image of him—his golden hair, his defiant smile, and the way his presence had always stirred something deep within me.

________________________________________

As I sat in my study, scanning the latest report from my informants, I allowed myself to indulge in the memories of him again. That hair had once been a symbol—his crown, his defiance. But now, as it fell away beneath my hands, I saw it for what it truly was: an illusion. The last vestige of freedom I had long since taken from him.


I had spent so many years watching him from the shadows of my own obligations, always admiring, never acting. As a boy, I hadn’t understood what drew me to him, only that his presence had a way of unbalancing me. Even now, the memories were sharp, as if they had been etched into my very bones.


There was a night, years ago, when I had stood outside his room. I was thirteen, and he had just turned eighteen—on the cusp of manhood. I remember hearing his laughter drift through the slightly open door, seeing the soft candlelight flicker as he spoke with one of the maids, his usual playful charm in full effect. I had stayed there unnoticed, watching the way he ran his fingers through his hair and the way the maid had looked at him as if he were the sun itself.

And I had hated it.

Not him. No, I could never hate Godwin. But I hated the way others looked at him—the way they could enjoy his company while I remained distant, tethered by the rules of my station. I had wanted so badly to go in, to join the conversation, but even then, something inside me held back. I was the Duke’s heir, bound to a life of duty. Godwin, though he had cared for me, had never belonged to me.

But that was then.

Now, I was the Duke. And I was no longer the shy boy who hesitated at the door. The memory of those moments had festered over the years, slowly turning into something sharper, something more dangerous. He may have left me behind, but I had never truly let him go. I had always known, deep down, that I would come for him one day.
And now that day was approaching.


I was pulled from my thoughts by a knock at the door. One of my most trusted aides entered, bowing before handing me a fresh report. His eyes, however, told me this one was different.
"Your Grace," he said, "we believe we’ve located him."


I raised an eyebrow, gesturing for him to continue.


"He’s been spotted in a village near the northern border, a place called Briar’s Hollow. The locals say he’s been keeping to himself, working as a craftsman. He’s using a different name, but the description matches perfectly—golden hair, youthful features, a man who seems to be running from something."


My lips curled into a smile, slow and deliberate. So, Godwin had settled into a quiet life, thinking he could hide in a place as unremarkable as Briar’s Hollow. It was almost amusing. The image of him working with his hands, keeping his past buried, only made me more eager to confront him.


I dismissed the aide with a wave of my hand. "Prepare my horse. I’ll ride out by morning."
"As you wish, Your Grace."


Once alone again, I leaned back in my chair, allowing the thrill of the moment to settle over me. Godwin had always been clever, always a step ahead. But now, for the first time, I had the advantage. He had built a life for himself away from me, but that life was fragile. It would shatter the moment I arrived.


I could already imagine the look on his face when he saw me—shock, perhaps a bit of defiance, but beneath it all, there would be recognition. He knew me better than anyone, after all. He would know that I hadn’t come all this way to simply reminisce about old times.


No, this was about reclaiming what was mine.


I rose from my chair, moving to the window that overlooked the sprawling estate. The moon hung high in the sky, casting a cold light over the grounds, and for a moment, I thought of Godwin’s golden hair beneath that same light, the way it would catch and glow, even in the dimmest of settings. My hand curled into a fist at my side, the need to see him, to have him close again, growing stronger by the second.


He had once been the one person I could never truly have, the one who had slipped through my fingers. But things were different now. I was different now.


By this time tomorrow, I would be on the road, headed north, with only one goal in mind: finding Godwin and bringing him back into my life. Whether he wanted to come willingly or not was of little consequence.


Because this time, I wouldn’t let him go.
________________________________________

The ride to Briar’s Hollow was long, but I barely noticed the hours passing. My thoughts were consumed by the imminent confrontation with Godwin. I had imagined this moment for so long, playing out the scenario in countless ways—how I would look at him, the words I would choose, how I would make it clear that he was no longer free to live outside my reach.


The northern winds were sharp against my face as I rode, my cloak billowing behind me. The landscape shifted from the gentle rolling hills of Eldridge to the rugged, less refined beauty of the northern borderlands. This area was far removed from the capital, and I could see why Godwin might have chosen it. It was the kind of place where a man could disappear, where past titles and duties held little meaning.


But to think he could truly vanish from my world, from my grasp—it was almost laughable.
I had been trained to notice everything, to see the movements of those around me long before they even realized they had shifted. And from the moment Godwin had left my life, I had kept tabs on him, always just enough to know where he was but not enough to pull him back. Not yet. I had wanted to see how far he would run and how long he would believe he could truly be free.


But freedom, like everything else, was a privilege. And privileges could be revoked.
As the village of Briar’s Hollow came into view, I slowed my horse. It was a humble place, nestled among thick forests, the kind of town where everyone knew everyone. A few thatched roof houses were clustered around the village square, with a small market set up. I took a moment to observe the scene—the peasants going about their daily lives, unaware that a duke had just entered their midst.


I dismounted, handing the reins of my horse to a stable boy who looked at me with wide eyes but didn’t dare question who I was. It was something I had always appreciated about my position—the way people instinctively knew when they were in the presence of someone greater.


But today, I wanted to remain unnoticed, at least for a little while longer. I kept my hood drawn low, the fine material of my cloak concealing my identity as I moved through the market square. The scent of fresh bread and roasted meats filled the air, mingling with the sound of the townspeople bartering and gossiping.


I made my way toward the blacksmith’s shop, where I had been told Godwin was working. The closer I got, the more my heart quickened—not with anxiety, but with anticipation. The thrill of the hunt was reaching its peak, and soon I would have what I had been chasing all these years.


Before stepping inside, I paused at the door, allowing myself a moment to imagine how this would unfold. I could picture him, strong and lean, his once-luxurious hair now tied back, perhaps sweat-soaked from the labor of his new life. Would he be startled to see me? Angry, even? Or would there be that familiar spark in his eyes, that flicker of understanding that no matter where he went, no matter how much he ran, he could never truly escape the pull between us?


The door creaked open, and the warmth of the forge hit me like a wave, its fiery glow casting sharp shadows across the room. The rhythmic clang of metal against metal filled the space, but I only had eyes for one thing—him.

Godwin.

He stood at the anvil, bare arms flexing, his golden hair tied back, though a few strands had escaped, catching the firelight like molten gold. His movements were fluid and effortless, even in this place of sweat and grime. The years had not dulled him; they had only refined him, and for a moment, I could only stare, a knot of possession tightening in my chest.

I took a step forward, my voice slicing through the quiet hum of the forge. "A far cry from the court, don’t you think?"


Godwin froze mid-swing. Slowly, deliberately, he lowered the hammer, his body stiff as he turned. When our eyes met, there it was—recognition. But something else flickered there too, something raw and dangerous before his face smoothed into a mask of indifference.


"Your Grace." His voice was cool, but I could hear the sharp edge of unease beneath it. "To what do I owe this... surprise?"


I stepped closer, the satisfaction of his discomfort blooming in my chest. "Surprise?" I let out a short, humorless laugh. "You didn’t think I’d let you slip away, did you? Not after all these years."


His lips twitched, a forced attempt at nonchalance. "I thought perhaps we had left all this behind, in Eldridge."


"You thought wrong," I said, voice low and steady. I moved closer, deliberately closing the distance between us. "The game never ended, Godwin. You only convinced yourself you weren’t playing."


His jaw tightened, but he didn’t look away. The flicker in his eyes, though brief, was unmistakable—fear, or perhaps, resignation.


"You have a habit of rewriting the rules, Your Grace," he said quietly, his tone too controlled to be genuine. "What do you want?"


I leaned in, my gaze piercing. "What I’ve always wanted."


He tilted his head, his eyes narrowing just slightly, as though he were weighing his options, deciding how much he would push back. "You went to all this trouble to find me, just to say that?"


"I didn’t come here to talk." My voice was lower now, filled with the undercurrent of command. "I came to bring you back."


His eyes flashed, and there it was—that defiance I had missed so much. "I left that life behind for a reason, Your Grace. I have no intention of returning."


I took another step closer, closing the distance between us. "You didn’t leave. You ran. There’s a difference."


"And what does it matter?" He shot back, his tone sharper now. "I’m free."


I leaned in, lowering my voice so that only he could hear. "You’ve never been free, Godwin. Not from me."


He said nothing, but I could see the tension in his jaw and the way his hands clenched at his sides. He had always been so proud, so determined to live on his own terms. And yet, despite all his efforts, despite the life he had built for himself, here he was—standing before me once again.


I could see the conflict in his eyes—the way he wanted to fight me—to push back against the pull that had always been between us. But he couldn’t deny it, just as I couldn’t. The years apart had only made it stronger, the distance sharpening the edges of our connection rather than dulling them.


"Come back with me," I said, my tone softening, though the command was still there. "You belong at my side. You always have."


For a moment, he said nothing, the silence stretching between us, thick with the weight of unspoken words. Then, finally, he spoke, his voice low, almost resigned.


"And if I refuse?"


I smiled, slow and deliberate, the thrill of victory already humming through my veins. "You won’t."

And in that moment, I knew—I had won. Godwin might resist, might try to hold onto the illusion of freedom he had created for himself, but in the end, he couldn’t escape the inevitable.

I would bring him back. And this time, I wouldn’t let him go.
________________________________________

The silence between us was thick, charged with tension and old memories. Godwin hadn’t answered yet, hadn’t made a move, but I could see the wheels turning in his mind. He was weighing the consequences and the costs, trying to convince himself of the freedom he had built here.


But it was a fragile illusion.


"You don’t understand," Godwin finally said, his voice quieter now, as if the weight of his words was already pressing down on him. "I didn’t just run for the sake of it. I needed to get away to live for myself."

I narrowed my eyes. "From me?"

His jaw tightened at the question, a subtle shift in his expression that told me everything I needed to know. I was at the heart of it all, wasn’t I? I had always been there, a looming shadow over his life, dictating the terms even when he had tried to escape.


He sighed, running a hand through his hair, the same golden strands catching the light of the forge. "It wasn’t about you, not entirely. It was about what you represent. The rules, the titles, the expectations. I was never free. I was always... serving something."


"Serving me," I corrected, stepping closer, not allowing him the distance he seemed to crave.
He met my gaze, frustration simmering beneath the surface. "Yes, Your Grace. Serving you. Always."


It was an admission, but not the kind I wanted. I could feel the heat of his anger and his resentment. Godwin had never been one to bow to authority easily, even when he had been my sitter, my constant companion during my youth. Back then, he had always pushed against the constraints, chafing under the responsibilities placed on him. And now, years later, that same defiance was still there.


"I didn’t ask for this life," he continued, his voice low but firm. "I didn’t ask to be tied to a title or a station. I wanted something for myself, something real. And I found it."


I raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "What, exactly, did you find here, in this place?"


For a moment, Godwin hesitated, his eyes flickering to the door behind me, as if considering his words carefully. Then, in a voice that was almost too quiet, he said, "A family."


The word hung in the air between us, heavy with meaning. Family. My eyes narrowed, and I could see the way he braced himself for my reaction.


I stared at him, the revelation sinking in. I hadn’t expected that. It had never occurred to me that Godwin would have formed bonds here—real, lasting ties that extended beyond the fleeting connections of a village life. But it didn’t change anything.
In fact, it only made me more determined.


"And this family of yours," I said slowly, testing the words as they left my mouth, "is that what you believe will keep you from coming back with me?"


There was a hardness in my voice now, a warning that I knew he could hear. Godwin’s expression shifted, a flicker of something vulnerable passing through his eyes before he steeled himself.


"I’m not the same person you knew back then," he said, his voice steady, though there was an edge of desperation to it. "I’ve changed. I’m not your servant anymore. I have a wife. A daughter."


The image of Godwin with a family, of him playing the role of a husband, of a father, felt foreign to me—almost laughable. The Godwin I knew had never been content with domesticity, with a quiet, simple life. He had always been more than that; he always belonged to something larger than these humble surroundings.


"A wife," I echoed, my lips curling into a cold smile. "And a daughter. How quaint."
He flinched at the mockery in my tone, but I didn’t care. He had built this life as a form of rebellion, a desperate attempt to carve out a freedom that had never truly been his. And now he thought this little family of his would be a shield, something to keep me at bay.

It wouldn’t.


"I don’t care about your new life, Godwin," I said, stepping forward again until I was close enough to see the strain in his features. "You belong to me. You always have. You think this family of yours changes that?"


His jaw clenched. "They’re my family. My life. You can’t just—"


"I can," I cut him off, my voice cold and sharp. "And I will."

He stared at me, a mixture of disbelief and anger flashing in his eyes. But beneath it all, there was something else—something he wouldn’t admit. Fear. Not for himself, but for them.


"You’re crueler than I thought," he muttered, the words more to himself than to me. "This isn’t about me anymore, Your Grace. I won’t let you destroy what I’ve built here."


I leaned in, lowering my voice until it was barely more than a whisper. "You think I care about them, Godwin? Your wife, your child—they mean nothing to me. They’re obstacles. And obstacles can be removed."


He sucked in a breath, his hands curling into fists at his sides. I could see the conflict in his eyes—the desperate need to protect what he had created. But he knew, deep down, that I wouldn’t be swayed. He had known me too long and understood me too well to believe that this would end any other way.


"You’ve changed," he said, his voice tight. "The boy I knew..."


"The boy you knew is gone," I interrupted, my voice harsh. "I’m not that boy anymore, Godwin. I’m a Duke. I’ve grown, I’ve learned, and I’ve realized something you never could. Power isn’t something you can escape. It’s something you wield."


He shook his head, his face pale, but his jaw set in defiance. "I won’t go with you."


I let out a slow, deliberate breath, staring at him with the full weight of my position behind my gaze. "You will. And when you do, you’ll realize that everything you’ve built here was just an illusion. A distraction."


Godwin’s breath was heavy, his chest rising and falling with the effort of holding himself together. For a moment, I almost felt sympathy for him. Almost. He had always been so proud, so determined to live life on his own terms, and now he was standing on the precipice of losing it all.


His family, his freedom, his sense of self—none of it would matter soon. He would come with me. He would return to the life he had tried to leave behind, not because he wanted to, but because he had no choice.


"You think you can just tear me away from them?" Godwin’s voice was laced with anger now, but there was also a hint of desperation beneath it. "You think I’ll let you?"
I stepped closer, so close that I could see the faint lines of stress around his eyes, the weariness that came from years of running. "I don’t need your permission, Godwin. I never have."


His eyes widened, just slightly, but enough for me to see the realization settle in. He knew. He understood now that this was inevitable. That I wouldn’t leave without him. No matter how far he had run, no matter what he had built here, it would never be enough to keep me from taking what was mine.

"I gave you years of freedom," I said, my voice soft but unyielding. "Years where I let you believe you were free. But it was only a matter of time before you realized the truth."

His shoulders slumped, the fight draining out of him as he stared at me, his once-sharp defiance dulled by the weight of inevitability. "And what about them?" he asked, his voice quiet now, almost broken. "My wife... my daughter?"

I tilted my head slightly, considering the question for a brief moment before I answered. "They’ll survive. They always do."

Godwin’s face twisted, pain and anger mingling in his expression, but he said nothing. He couldn’t. The reality was too harsh, too final.

"You belong with me," I said, my voice final. "And whether you leave them behind or not... that’s your decision."
________________________________________

After the confrontation at the forge, I left Godwin to consider his fate. I could see the weight of his surrender settling in his eyes—the resignation that came when one understood they had no more options. But there was still much to be done.


As I mounted my horse and rode back to the nearby inn where I had been staying, my thoughts raced. Godwin had a family now—a wife, a daughter. It was a complication I hadn’t expected, but it wasn’t an obstacle. Not really. If anything, it gave me a new tool, a new way to control him.


But I wouldn’t use them as weapons. Not directly, at least. No, Godwin didn’t need to know that I would ensure his family’s safety. That knowledge would only weaken him and give him a sense of leverage. What I needed was complete and utter possession. He had to believe that everything he once had was now gone and that the only life left for him was the one at my side.


As I entered the inn’s private parlor, my most trusted attendants were already gathered, waiting for my orders. Seran, my head steward, rose to greet me, his weathered face calm but observant. He had served my family for decades, and there was no one I trusted more with the intricacies of my plans.


"My Lord," Seran bowed slightly, his sharp eyes studying my expression. "It seems you have found what you sought."


I sat down at the table, steepling my fingers as I thought carefully about my next steps. "Godwin will be returning with me to Eldridge."


Seran raised an eyebrow, the only sign of his curiosity. "The former sitter? I see. And the complication with his... family?"


I leaned back in the chair, my gaze steady. "They are not complications. In fact, they will remain here, unharmed, but under my care."


Seran tilted his head, waiting for me to elaborate. He knew better than to question my decisions, but he was always meticulous in understanding the details.


"His wife and daughter will be provided for," I continued, "but they must never know it comes from me. I want them safe, comfortable even, but unaware of my involvement. And Godwin—" I paused, considering how best to phrase it. "Godwin must believe they are out of his reach. I want him to feel like everything he once had is gone, so that when he looks at me, he knows I’m all that remains."


Seran nodded, understanding. "Shall I arrange for discreet payments? Perhaps through a local merchant or landholder?"


"Yes," I said, my tone firm. "Find someone trustworthy to ensure they never lack for anything. But make sure there’s no connection back to me. I want Godwin to feel... untethered."
Seran hesitated for just a moment, then asked, "And the man himself? How do you plan to handle him?"


I smiled, the corner of my lips lifting in satisfaction. "He will come willingly, even if he doesn’t realize it yet. But I need to mark him. To show him—and everyone else—where he belongs."
There was a long pause as Seran regarded me, his expression unreadable. He had seen me grow from the boy Godwin once knew into the man I had become, and he understood the complexity of my intentions better than anyone.


"And how, my Lord," Seran asked, his voice careful, "do you wish to mark your possession?"
I leaned forward, the anticipation growing in my chest as I spoke. "I want him stripped of what he once was. Godwin is no longer a free man. He belongs to me now, and I will make sure he feels it every time he looks in the mirror."


Seran nodded, the understanding settling in. He knew what I intended—something visible, something undeniable. A sign of ownership, not just to Godwin but to anyone who saw him.
"I will make the arrangements," Seran said quietly, his eyes sharp with knowledge. "Anything else?"


"Ensure the carriage is ready to leave by dawn," I replied. "Godwin will be joining me for the journey back to Eldridge."
________________________________________

By the time the sky darkened, I returned to the forge. Godwin was waiting outside, leaning against the doorway, his face a mask of resignation. I could see the tension in his posture, the war between his pride and the inevitability of his surrender playing out in his mind.


He looked up as I approached, his eyes narrowing slightly. There was no more fight in him, but he still held himself with a quiet dignity, a remnant of the man who had once been free.
"I’m ready," Godwin said, his voice flat. "But I want to say goodbye to my family."

I studied him for a moment, weighing his request. It was a small concession, one that I could allow. But it wouldn’t change anything. He was already mine.

"Very well," I said, my voice calm. "But make it quick. We leave tonight."

Godwin nodded, his expression tight as he turned and disappeared into the small house behind the forge. I watched as he slipped inside, the door closing softly behind him. I knew he would savor these last few moments, holding onto the illusion of choice, of freedom, even as it slipped through his fingers.


From where I stood, I could hear the muffled voices from inside—Godwin speaking to his wife, a woman I had yet to see, though I imagined she was beautiful. A man like Godwin would have attracted someone worthy of admiration. There was the soft murmur of a child’s voice as well, the little daughter he had mentioned.


I felt no jealousy. No anger. In a way, I was doing them a kindness. They would remain safe, comfortable, even prosperous, thanks to my unseen hand. But they would no longer matter to Godwin. He would leave them behind and step fully into the life I had planned for him.
After what felt like an eternity, the door opened again, and Godwin emerged. His face was pale, his expression grim, but there was a finality in his eyes now. He had made his choice.
Without a word, he walked toward me, his steps heavy as if each one was pulling him farther from the life he had known. I gestured toward the carriage that awaited us, and he followed silently, climbing inside without a glance back at the home he had built for himself.

________________________________________

The carriage began its slow journey back to Eldridge, the wheels creaking beneath us as we traveled through the quiet countryside. Inside, the air was tense, thick with the unspoken emotions that lingered between us.


Godwin sat across from me, his gaze distant as he stared out the window, the fading light casting long shadows across his face. He hadn’t said a word since we left the village, and I didn’t push him. Not yet.


I watched him closely, studying the lines of his face, the way his once-bright eyes were clouded with uncertainty. He was a man caught between two worlds—one of freedom and one of servitude. And soon, he would fully understand that the life he had chosen to escape had always been an illusion.


"You know this is the right path, don’t you?" I said quietly, breaking the silence.
Godwin didn’t look at me, but I saw the way his jaw tightened. "It doesn’t matter what I think."
"It does," I replied smoothly. "Because whether you admit it or not, you’ve always known where you belonged. And now, you’re back where you should be."


He closed his eyes for a moment, as if trying to block out my words. But I could see the truth sinking in, the inevitability of his fate settling over him like a shroud.


As the night deepened and the moon cast its pale light over the landscape, the carriage rattled onward, carrying us ever closer to the heart of Eldridge—and to the next step in marking my possession.

________________________________________

As the carriage rolled through the quiet countryside, the steady rhythm of the wheels was the only sound filling the thick air. Godwin sat across from me, staring out of the window with that same, distant expression. The man before me now was different in so many ways—independent, hardened by time away from the palace, but beneath it all, I knew the boy who had once cared for me was still there. Hidden, perhaps, but waiting.


My eyes drifted to his hair, the way it caught the fading light, still as thick and luxurious as I remembered. It was longer now, falling to just below his ears, that perfect golden hue I had always admired. Godwin had been so meticulous with his appearance back then, effortlessly handsome, as if he knew his presence alone could put people at ease.


I could almost feel the familiar sensation of it between my fingers—the soft strands slipping through, a comforting memory from my youth.

Instinctively, my hand moved, drifting toward him without thought. My fingers brushed against the seat as they closed the distance, but I stopped myself just short of touching him. Not yet. Not like this.


Instead, I let myself get lost in the memories. Godwin had always been more than just a sitter. He was... everything. A mentor, a friend, a protector. As a boy, I looked up to him and idolized him in ways I never quite admitted aloud. He had been older and stronger, always carrying himself with a quiet confidence that made everyone around him feel safe.


When I was younger, barely a teenager, I remembered how he would scoop me up and carry me on his back after a long day. I could still feel the solid strength of his body beneath me, his arms firm as he supported my weight without complaint. His hair had been shorter back then, just as thick but neatly kept, and I used to play with it as we made our way back to my chambers. It was a quiet comfort, a simple intimacy between us that made me feel like everything in the world was right.

I was the Duke’s son, yes, but with Godwin, I wasn’t a title. I was just a boy who needed someone, and he had always been there.

There were times when he didn’t even have to speak. Just being in the room was enough to make me feel grounded. I would watch the way the palace staff—servants, guards, even my father’s advisors—relaxed around him. His smile could break through the tension like sunlight parting the clouds. He wasn’t just well-liked; he was loved. It was something natural to him, effortless. And I wanted that. I wanted to be like him.


I would sneak peeks at him in the mornings, catching him in those rare, private moments when he thought no one was looking. Sometimes I’d see him coming out of the bath, a towel wrapped around his waist, his body still damp from the steam. His physique had always fascinated me—the strong lines of his muscles, the way he moved with such ease. Even then, I found myself wanting to emulate him, to grow into someone like him. Someone capable, dependable. Handsome.


I would try to imitate his mannerisms, the way he stood tall, the way he spoke to others, and most of all, the way he smiled. That smile that made everything feel safe. But the truth was, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t be him. And I didn’t want to be, not really. What I wanted—what I realized now—was to have him.


My gaze lingered on him as the carriage bounced over a bump in the road, the soft golden strands of his hair catching the dim light. I had always loved his hair. The way it shone in the sunlight, thick and full, was a point of envy for me when I was younger. I used to imagine what it would be like to have that same hair, but now... now, I knew better. It wasn’t about having what he had. It was about owning it.

"Do you remember," I said, breaking the silence, "the days when you would carry me back to my room?"

Godwin shifted in his seat, glancing at me briefly before turning his gaze back out of the window. His silence wasn’t surprising—he had been like that ever since we left the village—but I could sense that he was listening.

"I used to fall asleep on your back," I continued, my voice softer now, as if speaking the memories aloud could make them real again. "You were so steady, so sure of yourself. I felt safe."

He didn’t respond, but I saw the subtle tension in his shoulders. He remembered, too. How could he not? Those years had shaped both of us in ways neither of us had fully understood until now.

"You taught me so much," I said, leaning forward slightly, my hand drifting closer to him once again. "How to stand tall. How to speak with confidence. How to lead. Everything I am now, Godwin, I owe to you."

Still, he said nothing. His silence was thick, but I could feel the weight of my words sinking in.
"Do you know what I admire most about you?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper as my fingers finally brushed against the strands of his hair, soft and thick between my fingertips.

He stiffened just slightly but didn’t pull away. Not yet.

"I admired your strength," I said, letting my fingers tangle in his hair, gently tugging at it the way I had done so many years ago. "Not just the physical kind, though I always wanted to be as strong as you were. But the other kind. The quiet strength that everyone else could feel, even when you didn’t say a word."


Godwin closed his eyes, his lips pressing into a thin line as if he were trying to block out the sensation of my hand in his hair. But I could see the conflict in his expression. The memories were there, just as vivid for him as they were for me.



"You used to carry me," I said, my voice soft but firm, "but now I’m the one carrying you."
My hand tightened slightly in his hair, not enough to hurt but enough to make him understand. This wasn’t a request. This wasn’t the gentle play of a child with his sitter anymore. This was something else. Something possessive. Something inevitable.
Godwin finally opened his eyes, his gaze locking with mine. There was something defiant in his expression, but beneath it, I could see the flicker of uncertainty. He wasn’t the same man who had left me all those years ago. But he was still mine.

He just didn’t realize it yet.

"I know you’ve been trying to live this new life," I said, my voice lowering as I leaned in closer, my hand still tangled in his hair. "But you were never meant for that, Godwin. You were always meant to be at my side."


He swallowed hard, his throat bobbing with the motion, but still he didn’t pull away. Not yet.
"I can make it easy for you," I whispered, my breath warm against his skin as I leaned in even closer. "Or I can make it difficult. But either way, you’re coming back to me."


He closed his eyes again, as if trying to steel himself against the truth of my words. But it was too late. He had already surrendered, even if he didn’t want to admit it.


For a moment, I just sat there, my hand in his hair, feeling the weight of everything that had come before this. The years of quiet admiration, watching him from afar, of wanting what he had, only to realize that what I wanted was him. Completely. Utterly. Mine.

"You’ve always belonged to me," I said softly, pulling back just enough to see his face clearly. "And now, it’s time for you to come home."

He opened his eyes, and for the first time since we left the village, I saw the faint glimmer of fear in them. Not for his family, not for his freedom, but for himself.


I released his hair slowly, letting the strands slip through my fingers as I leaned back into my seat. The carriage continued to roll forward, the wheels turning with the steady rhythm of inevitability.


Godwin remained silent, his gaze dropping to the floor as he struggled to keep his composure. But I knew the truth now. He was mine. He had always been mine.
And soon, he would understand that fully.

________________________________________

The carriage carried us through the night, the landscape shifting from the rolling hills of the countryside to the dense forests that surrounded the path to Eldridge. I could feel the tension. between us growing with every mile, the quiet hum of the wheels against the dirt road matching the quickening pulse in my chest.


I allowed myself one more glance at him, his face still as beautiful as it had been in my youth, his body still strong, and his hair still thick and perfect. But that was the thing about beauty—it was fleeting. And what I wanted now wasn’t just to admire him from a distance. I wanted to possess him, to make him mine in a way that could never be undone.


As I watched him, I felt the anticipation building, knowing that the moment of true possession was approaching. Godwin had taught me how to be strong, how to lead, and how to grow into the man I was now.


And now I would show him the full weight of what he had created.

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