As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the town of Thornfield in a soft, amber glow, Linus made his way to the drama company's theater. He arrived early, not simply to attend, but to observe—hoping that the quiet moments before the performance would offer him some insight into the recent events that had gripped the town.

The theater was grand, its entrance flanked by colorful banners and intricate carvings. The façade spoke of the town’s pride in the arts, an oasis of culture amidst the growing tension. Inside, the air buzzed with activity. Actors and crew members moved swiftly, finalizing details for the evening’s performance. The atmosphere hummed with anticipation and nerves, the kind that always comes before the curtain rises.

Moving quietly, Linus slipped into the shadows of the backstage area. He had no interest in being noticed, preferring to remain a silent observer. From the dim corners, he watched as the actors rehearsed their lines with intensity, their faces shifting between concentration and excitement. Stagehands scurried about, adjusting props and set pieces with quick, practiced efficiency. Laughter occasionally broke the tension as the performers made final tweaks to their performances.

Despite his desire to remain unseen, his arrival had not gone unnoticed. Aria, the theater’s star performer, spotted him. She approached with a warm smile that seemed to brighten the dimly lit backstage area. She bowed gracefully in acknowledgment, her presence commanding but gentle. Linus responded with a subtle bow, a respectful nod that met her courtesy with quiet dignity.

He retreated to a secluded spot where he could continue to watch without drawing further attention. From his vantage point, Linus observed the careful choreography of preparation. The actors’ costumes were elaborate, designed to draw the eye and enhance the drama of their characters. The set, too, was a marvel—intricate backdrops and well-crafted props that transformed the stage into another world entirely.

As he watched, he couldn’t help but admire the performers' dedication. Their passion was evident in every movement, every rehearsed line. These were not mere actors going through the motions; they were artists, fully invested in their craft.

Amid the rehearsal, Linus’s gaze was drawn to Aria as she moved effortlessly across the stage. There was something magnetic about the way she commanded the space. Her black dress, torn and frayed in all the right places, accentuated her long, creamy legs, while her dramatic makeup framed her eyes, amplifying her allure. Even in rehearsal, she carried herself with the confidence of someone who knew she was the center of attention and everyone around her was caught in her orbit.

Offstage, Amy stood watching, wide-eyed. Her posture was tentative, a stark contrast to Aria’s fluid grace. The young woman’s fingers fidgeted nervously, her admiration for Aria clear in every glance, yet there was an innocence about her—something fragile that made her seem out of place in the drama of the theater.

As the rehearsal wound down, Aria approached Linus, her smile warm and inviting, as if the performance had been meant for him all along. "Lord Linus," she greeted, her voice carrying a musical lilt. "I’m glad you could join us early. What do you think of our preparations?"

Linus met her gaze, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Impressive," he replied, his tone even but appreciative. "The dedication shows in every detail."

Aria’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction. "Thank you," she said, her voice softening. "We hope to offer something that will ease the town’s grief after everything that has happened."

Linus nodded, his expression growing contemplative. "The town could use that. I’m sure it will be well received."

Aria turned her head slightly, her attention shifting. "Amy, come here," she called out.

Amy nearly jumped, hurrying over, her eyes flicking nervously between Aria and Linus. "Yes, Aria?" Her voice was small, and she stood a little too straight as if trying to match the composure of the older woman.

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

"Take Lord Linus to the special viewing area we’ve arranged for him and Princess Mara," Aria instructed, her smile lingering as she glanced at Linus. "Make sure he’s comfortable and has everything he needs."

Amy nodded quickly, her eagerness almost spilling into clumsiness. "Of course, Aria." She turned to Linus, her hands clasped tightly in front of her. "Please follow me, Lord Linus," she said, her voice steady but tinged with nerves.

Linus offered Aria a final nod before following Amy through the bustling backstage area. As they walked, he couldn’t help but notice the way Amy moved—cautious, almost like she was afraid of misstepping. She cast quick, uncertain glances at the actors and crew as they passed, but there was something about how she carried herself around Aria—small, diminished, despite the polite words exchanged.

The air between them had been formal, but beneath the surface, Linus could see it: Aria’s effortless dismissal of the younger woman, a subtle condescension that Amy seemed all too familiar with. It wasn’t spoken; it didn’t need to be. The way Aria’s back had already turned by the time Amy responded, the way Amy rushed to obey—it all spoke volumes.

Amy led Linus through the winding corridors of the theater, her steps light but hesitant. They emerged in a secluded section of the building, an elevated platform with plush seating that offered a commanding view of the stage. The space was designed for dignitaries, with rich velvet cushions and curtains that provided privacy from the rest of the audience. As Linus settled into the intimate atmosphere, he couldn’t help but notice the contrast between Amy and Aria.

Amy’s youth was unmistakable, not just in the shyness of her demeanor but also in the softness of her presence. Where Aria exuded confidence, attracting attention with every gesture, Amy seemed to shrink into the background, her posture tentative. Yet Linus saw something else beneath her meekness—a beauty that, with time and confidence, could rival Aria's in its own way. There was an allure to her submissiveness, a quiet elegance that, while different from Aria’s boldness, held its own charm.

As they made their way to the special viewing room, Linus decided to break the silence with gentle conversation, sensing her unease. "So, Amy," he began, his tone warm and conversational, "what is your role in the drama company?"

Amy glanced at him briefly, her lashes fluttering before her gaze dropped again. "I… I’m Aria’s understudy," she murmured, her voice soft and uncertain.

Linus nodded thoughtfully. "That must be quite the responsibility," he remarked. "Aria is indeed talented, but I’m sure you bring your own unique qualities to the stage."

Amy’s admiration for Aria surfaced immediately, as if by reflex. "Oh, Aria is amazing. She's so confident and beautiful. I just try to do my best when I’m needed," she said, though her words were laced with the insecurity that had been nurtured by standing in Aria's shadow.

He decided to press gently, a mixture of flattery and genuine interest in his tone. "Aria certainly is talented and beautiful," Linus agreed, his voice soft, "but so are you, Amy. They wouldn’t have chosen you as her understudy without seeing the potential in you. You must have a charm of your own."

Amy's cheeks flushed at the compliment, clearly not accustomed to hearing such words directed at her. She hesitated, caught off guard, before offering a modest smile. "Thank you, Lord Linus," she said softly, her voice barely louder than a whisper. "That’s very kind."

Linus watched her, noting the way her posture shifted slightly. Encouraged, he continued. "Not everyone has the courage to take on a role like that. It speaks to your potential."

The compliment seemed to resonate with her. "I… I hope so," she replied, her voice gaining a touch more confidence, as though, for a brief moment, she allowed herself to believe his words.

When they reached the special viewing area, Linus took a moment to admire the space, its luxury and seclusion. "Thank you, Amy," he said, his tone appreciative. "This is perfect."

Amy’s shy smile brightened, her eyes lighting up at his approval. "If you need anything, please let me know," she offered, her tone more self-assured than it had been moments before.

Linus nodded as he settled into his seat. "I will. Thank you," he replied.

As Amy turned to leave, Linus’s gaze lingered, his thoughts shifting. Something about her intrigued him—something malleable, waiting to be shaped.

She was eager to please, easy to control, and—most importantly—unlikely to resist the hand that guided her. She had no one watching over her, no alliances that would complicate matters.

He smiled faintly to himself as Amy disappeared down the corridor. Yes, under the right circumstances, she could become something more—something useful, something pleasurable.

And Linus was always patient when it came to getting exactly what he wanted.