Chapter Text
The House of Blackwood, 1743
The morning sun filtered through the tall, mullioned windows of Blackwood Manor, casting golden light on the grand drawing room's faded grandeur. Dust motes floated lazily in the air, but Vivienne Elizabeth Blackwood—Ellie to those who dared to know her truly—felt anything but lazy. She perched on the edge of an armchair near the window, her nose buried in the thick pages of an adventure novel, her bare feet tucked beneath her. A breeze carried the scent of the summer gardens inside, teasing her with the freedom she could see but not touch. The ink on her fingertips marked the hours she had stolen to herself, buried in pages about wild escapades and distant lands, a far cry from the life expected of her.
"Ellie, you'll stain your fingers again," came a voice from across the room. It was sharp, impatient, and entirely expected.
Her younger sister, Georgiana—Gigi—sat primly on the edge of the settee across the room from her, her gown a pristine lavender that perfectly complemented her soft dark brown hair and porcelain complexion. She was everything Ellie was not: compliant, graceful, and entirely devoted to their parents' ambitions. Her sister's reproach was constant, but Ellie had long grown immune to it. She was the image of noble perfection, exactly what their parents hoped Ellie would emulate. But Ellie, with ink-stained fingers and an untamable curl that always seemed to escape her pins, had never managed to master that art.
"I like ink stains," Ellie replied without looking up from her book. "They show that I've been doing something worthwhile. Besides, maybe they'll finally see I'd rather be an adventurer than a painted doll."
Gigi sighed heavily, setting aside her embroidery. "You know that's impossible. You have responsibilities, Ellie. You're the eldest. You know what happens if you don't do what's expected. Mother and Father will have a fit if they see you like this. Honestly, Ellie, do you ever think about how you appear to others?"
Ellie snapped her book shut and fixed her sister with a pointed look. "Only when I absolutely must." Her amber eyes were narrowing. "Honestly, Gigi, do you ever tire of repeating Mother's words?"
Before Gigi could retort, a soft knock interrupted the moment. The door creaked open to reveal Mathilda—Tillie—Ellie's lifelong friend and maid. Her kind face lit up with a mischievous smile as she stepped inside, her green eyes sparkling with barely contained amusement.
"Beg pardon, Miss Georgiana," Tillie said with a quick curtsey. "But Mrs. Blackwood asked me to fetch Ellie. She's needed in the garden for tea."
Ellie groaned. "Tea? Again? Didn't we do that yesterday?"
"You did," Tillie said, her lips twitching. "But today, it's with Mr. Whitlock."
Ellie froze. "Thomas Whitlock?"
Tillie nodded, her expression darkening slightly. "I heard them talking about it earlier. They want you to make a good impression today."
Gigi clapped her hands together in delight. "Oh, Ellie, isn't it wonderful? You'll finally get to spend time with your betrothed. Mother says he's quite taken with you."
Ellie muttered something under her breath and rose reluctantly, her book still clutched in one hand. As she left the room with Tillie at her side, she whispered, "They act like they're matchmaking for a fairytale. Except the prince is ancient, and the princess has no choice."
Tillie's brown eyes sparkled with sympathy. "Spill the tea in his lap," she suggested. "Make it look like an accident."
Ellie laughed softly. "Tempting."
As they walked through the grand halls of Blackwood Manor, the weight of her family's expectations settled heavily on Ellie's shoulders. It was always there, pressing down like an invisible hand. As the eldest daughter—and the only hope for continuing the Blackwood line—she was expected to marry well, bear sons, and preserve their pureblood legacy.
Her love of books, her curiosity about the natural world, her fascination with animals—all of it was deemed unworthy of her station. Thomas Whitlock, a man nearly ten years her senior, represented everything she resented about her future. He was wealthy, respected, and insufferably dull.
But it wasn't just the pressure to be the perfect wife and mother that pressed on her like an invisible hand. It was the curse that shadowed their lives—the Blackwood curse.
Generations ago, it was said, the Blackwoods had wronged another noble family. Whether through betrayal or arrogance, no one could say, but the wronged family had cursed the Blackwoods with a blood curse—one that would haunt them until their line ended.
The curse was a cruel thing, tied to the eldest daughter of each generation. It bound them to an unhappy fate: if they did not marry within the constraints of their family's choosing, tragedy would befall not just them but those they loved most. Ellie had grown up hearing whispered tales of Blackwood women who had dared to defy the curse—women who had fallen ill, gone mad, or vanished altogether.
Ellie had never truly believed in it, not until the night of her sixteenth birthday. That was when her mother, Lady Blackwood, had shown her the family's curse-bound relic: an iron ring that glowed faintly when placed on her finger.
"It is your duty to wear this," her mother had said that night, her voice cold with purpose. "The ring binds you to our family, to our survival. You cannot stray from the path we've set for you."
Ellie had never forgotten the weight of that moment, the cold press of the ring against her skin, the way her mother's eyes gleamed with fear disguised as resolve. Since then, the curse had hung over her life like a storm cloud, dictating every step she was meant to take.
Now, as she and Tillie stepped out into the garden, Ellie felt its shadow looming once more.
"Ellie," Tillie said gently, interrupting her thoughts. "One day, you'll be free of all this."
Ellie looked at her friend, the only person who truly understood her. Tillie's loyalty had been unwavering since they were children, despite the strict lines drawn between them by society.
"I don't know if I'll ever be free, Tillie," Ellie admitted. "But if I must endure all this, at least I have you."
The two shared a smile as they stepped out into the sunlight. Ellie's parents, Lord and Lady Blackwood, were already seated at the wrought-iron table beneath the grand oak tree in the garden. Her mother, with her perfectly coiffed hair and hawk-like gaze, greeted her with a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.
"Ah, Elizabeth, there you are," Lady Blackwood said. "Come, sit. Mr. Whitlock has been most eager to see you."
Thomas Whitlock stood nearby, his graying hair and insincere smile making Ellie's stomach churn. He was a man of wealth and station, but his presence made Ellie's skin crawl.
"Elizabeth," her mother said briskly, gesturing for her to sit. "Mr. Whitlock has come to discuss your upcoming union. He's been gracious enough to join us for tea."
Ellie forced herself to take the seat opposite Thomas, her hands clasping tightly in her lap. Her father poured tea in silence, his gaze heavy on her.
"It's an honor to be in your company again, Miss Blackwood," Thomas said, his voice smooth but devoid of warmth.
"And yours, Mr. Whitlock," Ellie replied, her tone polite but clipped.
Her mother's smile tightened. "Elizabeth, Mr. Whitlock has been patient with us, considering the importance of this match. You should express your gratitude."
Ellie bit back a sharp reply, her hands curling into fists beneath the table. Gratitude. For what? For being sold like a prize to a man nearly twice her age? For being a pawn in her parents' desperate game to stave off the curse?
"I'm grateful for his patience," Ellie said finally, her voice strained.
Tillie, standing quietly by the door, caught her eye and offered a small, supportive smile. It was a comfort, however fleeting.
As Thomas began to drone on about his estate and his plans for their future, Ellie's thoughts drifted. She imagined herself far away, running barefoot through fields, exploring the woods, or tending to animals without a care in the world. Somewhere beyond the walls of Blackwood Manor, adventure waited for her. Freedom waited for her. Someday, somehow, she would find a way out of this life.
But the curse—and her family—held her here, bound like the iron ring on her finger. For now, all she could do was endure.
Yet deep within her, a spark remained. Ellie might have been bound by fate, but she would not be broken by it.
...
As Thomas continued to speak, Ellie's mind wandered, the rhythmic drone of his words barely registering. She looked out the tall windows of the solarium, past the neatly trimmed hedges and the sprawling grounds that seemed to stretch endlessly. The garden—her sanctuary—was one of the few places where she felt a fleeting sense of freedom. Beyond that, the world was full of possibilities, even if they seemed impossibly out of reach.
"Elizabeth," her mother's voice broke through her thoughts. "Mr. Whitlock was just telling us about his estate in Devonshire. A fine place, I'm sure you'll enjoy it once you're settled there. And I'm certain your talents as a wife will be appreciated."
Ellie's gaze flickered to Thomas, who smiled smugly, as if he had already won. But Ellie saw the cracks in his carefully cultivated demeanor. He was nothing more than a man playing the part of a noble suitor, intent on fulfilling his own agenda, while her family acted as though she were little more than a piece in a game they had long since lost interest in.
"I'm sure," Ellie said, her voice cold and distant. She'd long since learned how to play the role of dutiful daughter, even if every word felt like sandpaper against her tongue.
"Your father and I have been discussing arrangements for the wedding," Lady Blackwood continued, her eyes narrowing with a hint of something darker. "We will need to finalize the details soon. I trust you've given thought to the responsibilities that will come with this match, Elizabeth?"
Ellie's stomach twisted, and for a moment, the urge to leave everything behind nearly overwhelmed her. She could feel the familiar weight of the ring on her finger, a constant reminder of her family's expectations, their pressure to secure her future in ways that felt suffocating. It had always been like this, since the moment she'd been born—the heir to a curse, a bloodline marked by something beyond her control.
"Of course," Ellie said, her voice barely more than a whisper. Her mother's eyes lingered on her with a mixture of anticipation and disappointment, as if Ellie were a disappointment for not embracing her role with more fervor.
But then, as if by some small miracle, a movement outside the window caught her eye. A shadow darted past, something small and scrappy. Ellie's pulse quickened.
She stood abruptly, startling her parents and Thomas. "Excuse me," she said quickly, her voice more forceful than she'd intended. "I'll be right back."
Before anyone could protest, she rushed outside, her breath coming in quick gasps. The warmth of the day was replaced by the crisp air of the garden, and her heart beat faster as she moved toward the edge of the manor grounds.
And there it was—an emaciated dog, its fur matted and dirty, crouching near a bush. It looked up at her with wide, fearful eyes. Ellie's heart ached at the sight.
"Hey there, little one," she murmured softly, crouching down to the dog's level. It didn't move, but its gaze softened ever so slightly, as if it could sense the kindness in her voice.
"Come here," Ellie coaxed gently.
Slowly, hesitantly, the dog approached her, and she held out her hand, allowing it to sniff her fingers. The little creature was skittish, but Ellie's heart swelled with a quiet sense of triumph as it nuzzled against her palm.
Her family had never understood her love for animals—the untamed, the wild, the free. Her interests had always been ridiculed, dismissed as childish distractions. But in this moment, with the small dog seeking comfort from her, Ellie felt a glimmer of hope, a reminder that there were still parts of the world that were hers to find.
"How did you end up here?" Ellie whispered softly to the dog, as if it could understand her. She glanced around. No one was watching, and she felt an undeniable pull to take the creature with her, to keep it close and protect it, just as she longed to escape the invisible chains that held her to Blackwood Manor.
Just as she stood to take the dog in her arms, a sharp voice called from the house.
"Elizabeth! Where are you?"
It was her mother, of course.
Ellie hesitated, glancing down at the dog in her arms. Its small body was trembling, but it seemed to trust her now. She couldn't bear to leave it behind.
"I'm coming," she called back reluctantly, her heart heavy with the weight of her family's expectations. But as she turned toward the manor, her thoughts began to drift again, as they always did.
This was her life, a life mapped out by the curses of her bloodline and the demands of her family. But maybe, just maybe, there was a way to break free. A way to escape the suffocating future that awaited her and embrace the adventure she so desperately craved.
The dog's presence, however brief, was a sign—one that whispered of something more.
And for the first time in a long while, Ellie felt a flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, the future she'd been told was inevitable didn't have to be hers after all.
Ellie cradled the dog carefully in her arms as she made her way back to the manor, her mind spinning with the implications of the moment. The small creature seemed to relax against her chest, its small body a comfort in the midst of her frustration. For the briefest second, she wondered what it was that had drawn her to the animal. Perhaps it was simply the way it needed her, just as she needed something—someone—of her own.
But as she approached the manor doors, Ellie's thoughts shifted again. Her mother's sharp voice echoed in her mind. "Elizabeth," she called again, this time louder and more insistent.
Ellie took a steadying breath. She had to return, at least for now. She couldn't risk an outburst, not when the eyes of her family and Thomas Whitlock were always watching.
"Coming," she muttered, her voice edged with a quiet defiance as she walked back into the cold stone walls of Blackwood Manor.
"Elizabeth!" Her mother's footsteps echoed behind her as she approached the entrance. "Where on earth have you been? You have a guest waiting inside. You should have joined us."
Ellie turned to face her mother, who had emerged from the doorway with a disapproving look.
"Yes, Mother, I was just—" Ellie paused, catching sight of Thomas standing inside the door. His posture was stiff, the way he always stood when he was acting like he had a claim on her, as if his presence alone should be enough to sway her.
Ellie's gaze flickered to the dog in her arms, still trembling with uncertainty. Without a second thought, she spoke before she could second-guess herself.
"I've decided to keep it."
Her mother's eyebrows shot up in disbelief. "Keep it? Elizabeth, that animal is filthy. It will be a disgrace to the Blackwood name."
Ellie ignored her, stepping past her mother and into the parlor. Thomas looked at her, his face a mask of irritation, but she had already grown accustomed to his disapproving stares. Her heart was still racing from the confrontation with her mother, but she wouldn't back down. Not this time.
"We'll see about that," Ellie muttered, her voice filled with quiet determination. She set the dog down in front of the fire, kneeling beside it as it pawed at her hands.
"You're always such a disappointment," her mother said, her tone cold and clipped. "Why can't you just accept your responsibilities? You've been chosen to marry Thomas, to join the Whitlock family, and yet you still insist on wasting time with these... distractions."
"I'm not a child anymore, Mother," Ellie said, her voice firm but quiet. "I don't want this life. I never did."
Her mother scoffed, turning on her heel. "You don't know what's best for you. You'll thank me when you realize the life we've chosen for you is far better than anything you could dream up in that head of yours."
Ellie stared at her mother's retreating figure, an unspoken question lingering in her mind. Why couldn't she see it? Why couldn't her mother see her for who she truly was—someone who yearned to break free from the invisible chains that bound her to this cursed existence?
She returned to her room in sheer sprint, wanting to be alone with her thoughts. The house, despite its grandeur and space, felt suffocating, its walls closing in on her with every passing moment. She crossed the threshold of her room, the door closing softly behind her as she leaned against it for a moment, breathing in the cool, quiet air. The room was her sanctuary, the only place she could find solace from the expectations that loomed over her like an ever-present shadow. She collapsed onto the chaise by the window, the dog at her feet following her without a word, as if it too understood the weight of the world she carried.
Absentmindedly, she scratched behind the dog's ears as it sat at her feet, its dark eyes watching her with an intensity that felt almost too human. There was something about it—a connection she couldn't explain. It was as if it knew her more than any person ever had, as if it had been waiting for her to speak her mind.
"You know," she said quietly, her voice soft but tinged with frustration, "I think I've been trapped in this house for my entire life." The words tumbled out before she could stop them, the heaviness in her chest forcing her to finally admit the truth, even if only to the dog. It didn't judge. It just listened. The dog's ears twitched, and she paused, looking down at it as if it might understand. "They—my parents—they want me to be the perfect daughter, the perfect lady. They want me to marry Thomas, and have children, and forget all about the things I love." The words hung in the air, a declaration of all the things she had never said out loud before.
The dog gave a soft huff, as though in response, and Ellie chuckled bitterly. "You'd think I'd be used to it by now," she continued, her fingers idly playing with the hem of her skirt. "But every day feels like a cage, and every night it gets harder to breathe."
She leaned back, resting her weight on her hands, and looked up at the stars painted on her bedroom ceiling, her voice becoming quieter. "I want to explore, see the world... do something more than sit in drawing rooms and talk about the latest fashions. But no, I'm meant to be a proper lady—just like my sister." She sighed, the sound heavy in the quiet night. "Gigi doesn't mind it. She enjoys it, even. But not me. Not in the slightest."
The dog looked up at her, its head tilting slightly, eyes softening as if it understood every word. Ellie blinked, staring at it for a moment, wondering if she was imagining the connection. It seemed like it was listening. She couldn't recall a time when a dog had ever given such a knowing look.
"Wouldn't it be nice, though?" she mused, half to herself. "If I could just choose my own path? If I didn't have to live up to everyone else's expectations for me? But I suppose that's too much to ask for, isn't it?" Her voice dropped, a quiet sadness creeping in. "After all, I'm not a man. If I were a man, I could go anywhere, do anything... but I'm not. I'm just... Vivienne Elizabeth Blackwood."
The dog's gaze seemed to intensify, almost as if it were considering her words carefully. Ellie paused, meeting its dark eyes. It looked back at her with such depth, as though it could comprehend every word she had said. She shook her head, laughing softly, the sound bitter. "I'm talking to a dog like it understands me. How ridiculous."
But the dog shifted slightly, its tail twitching as it leaned into her hand, and Ellie couldn't help but feel an odd sense of comfort. It felt as though the creature, despite its silence, truly understood her in a way no one else ever had. And for a brief moment, the weight of her frustrations seemed to lighten.
"You're a strange one, aren't you?" she murmured with a soft smile, rubbing its ears again. "But I suppose I'll take whatever company I can get. Even if it's from a dog."
The dog, in response, gave a soft whine, its dark eyes focused on her, as though urging her to continue. It was an almost uncanny expression—a look of empathy, of recognition.
Ellie let out a long breath, her shoulders sagging. "It's just so much, sometimes. I'm not like them. I want more. I want to choose what I do with my life, not be handed a script and told to follow it."
The dog's gaze never wavered. It was as though it was waiting, listening for something more, something deeper that Ellie couldn't quite put into words.
"I don't know," she murmured, resting her hand gently on its head. "I guess I'm tired of feeling like I'm living someone else's life, someone else's dream."
The dog gave another quiet whine, its body shifting as if responding to her words. And in that moment, Ellie could have sworn it understood.
A soft shiver ran down her spine, and she looked at the dog again, her heart fluttering unexplainably. She felt an inexplicable bond, as if, just for a moment, the two of them shared something deeper than words.
"Maybe I'll get away one day," she whispered, her voice full of longing. "Maybe I'll escape this place and find something... something real."
The dog nudged her hand gently, as if urging her on, its dark eyes locked on hers.
Ellie laughed quietly, though it was filled with a touch of sadness. "You really do understand me, don't you?"
The dog gave a soft, almost contented sound in response, its tail swishing against the ground.
For the first time in a long while, Ellie felt less alone, as though the dog was the one being heard. It was comforting, but the unease in her chest remained. Something about this dog felt... different. It was more than an animal—it was a silent companion, as if waiting for something, waiting for her.
Her thoughts were interrupted as the dog suddenly began to whine softly, its head tilting as though hearing something distant. Ellie froze, her heart skipping a beat as she looked around, feeling an inexplicable shift in the air. The once calm and serene atmosphere of her room seemed to waver, the air heavy with something she couldn't quite place. The dog's expression, too, seemed to change. Its ears perked up, its eyes narrowing into something more focused, its dark gaze now fixed on her with an eerie intensity.
"What's wrong?" she whispered, glancing around nervously, the hairs on her arms rising in a sudden chill.
But before she could make sense of what was happening, the dog let out a low growl—a sound that seemed to vibrate in the air, carrying with it an unfamiliar weight. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end as the growl deepened into something much more unsettling. Ellie instinctively took a step back, her heart pounding in her chest. She had never heard the dog make such a sound before.
Then, without warning, the dog shifted. Its body began to change—its fur lengthening and rippling, its shape contorting before her eyes. Ellie gasped, stumbling backward as the form of the dog blurred, twisting into something altogether different. Her breath caught in her throat as the animal's features softened, limbs elongating, until a man stood before her.
She blinked, certain her mind was playing tricks on her, but there was no mistaking the figure now standing in front of her—tall, with dark hair and the same piercing eyes that had once belonged to the dog. He was... human now, but those eyes—they were the same. The same eyes that had watched her, listened to her, understood her in ways no one else ever had.
She stepped back, her mouth opening but no sound coming out. Her thoughts were a whirl of confusion, her heart racing.
"I—what..." Ellie stammered, still not fully comprehending the sight before her. "What's happening? Who are you?"
The man's lips curled into a small, knowing smile as he regarded her with an intensity that was almost familiar. "I'm someone who's been waiting a very long time for you to know the truth."