She Dreamed The Monster First

Chapter 29

The gossip didn't just start; it erupted like a f*****g plague before the sun even crested the horizon.

It crawled through the castle, slimy and inevitable, sticking to Elara's skin like grease she couldn't scrub off.

It followed her into the kitchens, a place that already smelled of burnt meat and desperation.

It trailed her through the laundry rooms, where the steam was thick enough to hide a multitude of sins, but not the ones people were accusing her of.

"There she goes," a voice whispered, sharp as a knife.

Elara froze, her grip tightening on the basket of vegetables.

She didn't turn.

She couldn't.

Two servant girls stood by the ovens, their eyes gleaming with malicious joy.

They didn't even bother lowering their voices.

"The Commander's little w***e," one spat, her voice dripping with venom.

"Look at her.

Walking like she owns the place.

"The other girl laughed, a harsh, grating sound.

"Must be nice.

Getting f****d by the Commander instead of scrubbing floors.

I bet he pays her extra for that tight little ass."

"Or maybe she just knows how to suck a c**k better than the rest of us," the first girl sneered.

"That's the only reason a noble would touch a slave.

Unless she's putting out for the whole guard?

Maybe she's the castle pump, taking whatever man wants to f**k her.

"Elara's knuckles turned white around the basket handle.

Her heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic, terrified rhythm.

They don't know, she told herself.

They can't know.

But the lie tasted like ash.

In their eyes, she was already guilty.

She was already the slut they accused her of being.

"You don't spend hours in a nobleman's chambers just discussing the weather," the first girl continued, her voice loud enough for everyone to hear.

"I bet he has her on her knees every night.

Bet she's screaming his name while he f***s her brains out.

"Laughter erupted.

Cruel, biting laughter that cut deeper than any whip.

Elara kept walking, her head down, her vision blurring with unshed tears.

She wanted to scream.

She wanted to tell them the truth: that Vaelith had never touched her, never demanded s*x, never even looked at her with lust.

But the truth was impossible. In a world where nobles r***d slaves for sport, kindness was the most unbelievable lie of all.

By midday, the poison had spread to the guards.

Elara was carrying a heavy tray through a service corridor when she heard them.

Two soldiers, leaning against the wall, their armor clinking.

"You think she's pretty enough?" one asked, his voice low and crude.

"For a slave?" the other shrugged, a sickening grin on his face.

"She's got a nice pair of t**s, I'll give her that.

Maybe that's why the Commander is so interested.

Maybe she's good at taking a cock.""Commander Vaelith could have any woman he wants," the first guard said, his eyes scanning Elara's body as she passed.

"Noblewomen.

Princesses.

Why would he want a dirty slave unless she's putting out?"

"Exactly," the second guard laughed, stepping into her path.

"Maybe she's not as innocent as she pretends.

Maybe she's a little slut who loves being f****d by power.

"They both stared at her, their eyes raking over her body, imagining her naked, imagining her on her knees, imagining the Commander f*****g her against the wall.

Elara lowered her gaze, her face burning with shame.

"Excuse me," she whispered, trying to slip past.

"Watch where you're going, w***e," the first guard muttered, bumping her shoulder hard enough to make her stumble.

Laughter followed her down the corridor.

Every step felt like walking through mud. Every whisper was a stone added to the burden crushing her soul.

By evening, Elara was exhausted.

Not from the work, but from the hatred.

From the eyes that stared at her like she was something dirty.

From the whispers that labeled her a slut, a w***e, a trait to her own kind.

The worst part was the silence of the truth.

No one would believe her.

No one would believe that a noble man could be kind.

In their world, s*x was power, and power was used to f**k and destroy.

The slaves gathered for their evening meal in the underground hall.

The air was thick with the smell of stale bread and resentment.

Wooden bowls were passed around, filled with thin, watery stew.

Elara sat in her usual spot, staring at her food, unable to eat.

"Maybe she'll be sleeping in the Commander's bed tonight," a voice said nearby.

Several slaves laughed. "Or maybe he's already bought her freedom.

In exchange for some good f*****g, of course.""Or maybe she's already pregnant," another voice added, cruel and mocking.

"Imagine that.

A slave carrying the Commander's bastard."Elara set down her spoon, her hands shaking.

The food felt like a lump of lead in her stomach.

She couldn't breathe.

She couldn't think.

An older slave woman sitting nearby nudged her bowl forward.

"Eat," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

"Don't give them the satisfaction.

"Elara looked up, meeting the woman's eyes.

There was no judgment there, only pity.

And that was worse.

She lowered her head and forced herself to take a bite, the taste of the stew bitter on her tongue.

Elsewhere in the castle, Commander

Vaelith stood in the training yard, oblivious to the storm he had created.

Steel clashed against steel under the torchlight, sparks flying in the darkness.

"Again!"

Vaelith roared, striking a young soldier with a wooden sword.

"You're too slow! If that were a real blade, you'd be dead!

"The soldier stumbled, rubbing his shoulder.

"Commander, I—"

"No excuses!

" Vaelith snapped.

"Fight!

"He paced between the sparring men, his mind focused on strategy, on defense, on the safety of the kingdom.

He had no idea that his simple act of kindness had turned the entire palace into a nest of vipers.

He didn't know that his requests for Elara's presence had been twisted into a story of secret affairs and illicit s*x.

He didn't know that the woman he was trying to protect was being labeled a w***e by everyone around her.

Later that evening, Elara was drying her hands in the kitchen when the doors burst open.

Captain Kaelen stood there, his face grim.

The room fell silent instantly.

Every slave froze, fear radiating off them in waves.

Kaelen's eyes scanned the room, landing on Elara.

His expression didn't change, but his voice was firm.

"There you are.

The Commander requests his evening meal.

"The silence that followed was deafening.

Then, the whispers started again, louder this time, filled with malicious glee.

"See?

I told you."

"She's going to his room again."

"Probably to spread her legs."

"w***e.

"Elara felt the blood drain from her face. She wanted to disappear.

She wanted to run.

But she couldn't.

She was a slave.

She had no choice.

"As you command," she whispered, her voice trembling.

Kaelen frowned, noticing the fear in her eyes, the way she shrank into herself.

"Is something wrong?" he asked, his voice slightly softer.

"No, Captain," Elara said quickly, lowering her head. "I'll prepare the tray immediately.

"Kaelen hesitated, then nodded.

"Bring it when it's ready.

"As soon as he left, the room exploded with whispers and laughter.

"She's going to f**k him again."

"I bet she loves it.""Dirty slut.

"Elara ignored them, her hands shaking as she filled the tray with food.

She couldn't think about the rumors.

She couldn't think about the hate.

She could only think about the silver eyes that had promised her safety.

But as she walked toward the Commander's chambers, the tray heavy in her hands, a terrible thought occurred to her.

Being summoned by Commander Vaelith was supposed to be her salvation.

But now, it felt like a death sentence.

Because if the rumors continued, if the hate grew, someone would find a way to destroy her.

And this time, Vaelith might not be able to save her.

Not from the world.

Not from the truth.And definitely not from themselves.