The Conquerors bloodline

Gently drying her hands, Marigold peered into the mirror of the bathroom. Leaning closer she lifted a hand to her cheek and inspected her skin, nodding happily when she saw no blemishes. Though the action only proved to bring a rising ache to her shoulder that made her jostle and wince.

Glancing around, she waited for the only other woman in the toilet to leave. A beautiful girl with regal black hair and a body she could only reminisce about. When the woman was gone, she slid down the sleeve of her dress from her shoulder and revealed a large blue bruise yellowing at the edges. Her finger danced carefully over the skin only to hiss as simply touching it stung her nerves into action.

Thankfully it wouldn't be there much longer, just a few more days and she'd be perfect and Bleu would be happy with her body again. Pulling her dress back over her shoulder she sighed and shook her head, hoping this vacation of theirs would finally calm him down, get rid of all that stress he'd been holding back and simply get better, happier if anything. That's all she wanted.

Making her way to the door, Marigold quickly stepped to the side when two girls pushed through the aperture, giggling to each other about some boy or another. Marigold couldn't rightly hear them as her focus was solely on returning to Bleu's side like she was meant to.

Except, when she exited the toilet, about to cross over the deck towards the pool, she was stopped by a voice.

"How does a man like that, get a woman like you?" the woman spun her head confusedly, just as quickly her gaze halted on a boy. He leaned against the wall just between the men and women's bathrooms, his arms crossed and head resting against the stone but his eyes, they inclined her way with this… she didn't quite know what it was, but it certainly wasn't anything like Bleu's gazes. It was almost… soft?

"Excuse me?" she meekly replied.

"Bleu. How'd he end up with you?" the boy pushed off the wall, his name for a moment flared in her mind, Parc Evans, the very boy who'd been stressing Bleu since the cruise began.

"I don't think I have to answer that."

"You don't." He agreed, "but when I see a clearly abusive man with a beautiful wife, I can't help but wonder what makes them so 'worthy' of deserving a lady as beautiful as yourself."

Marigold's lips trembled, the pain in her arm, as well as her hip and belly, flared up, stinging her senses, "my husband is not abusive." There was a determination to her voice, a belief that what she was saying was true and not a fabrication of her Stockholms. Looking at the boy, his expression scrunched and his head bobbed side to side.

"Ehhh, I'd say a man that beats his wife and mentally abuses her, is abusive. It's sort of in the name."

Her gaze darted to the pool, unable to see Bleu as she began twitching, desperate to escape this man and his questions before her husband starts wondering where she is. "I'm sorry, but I don't know what you're talking about. My husband has never hit me and I will let you know right now that he also hasn't hurt me mentally. So please, don't speak like you know a thing about us."

His brow quirked and his expression fell, "you know you limp right?" Marigold flinched, hair across her body standing on end. "Also, you're hiding your body. We're out in this beautiful weather," he opened his arms, raising them to the sun beaming across his chiselled chest lined with large and powerful scars, "and yet you're the only woman around wearing a full-on dress. Now why would that be?" she shivered, naked before this man's cold red eyes as they peered down, scanning every inch of her body, accurately falling and focusing on those aching blue spots lining her form.

"It's to hide bruises. Luckily he doesn't hit your face, so you don't have to put on makeup, but he hits you everywhere else. You can act and force yourself to walk around normally, but you have a slight tilt to you. Your gait is awkward and short like you're moving in a way that doesn't hurt as much as walking normally."

Marigold flinched, her feet already drawing her away panicked, "I-I'm sorry. But I-I have to go before Bleu starts worrying. Please just, stay away from us. Bleu's stressed enough as it is. Now goodbye." She spun, practically sprinting into a powerwalk leaving Parc to watch her hunched back race off back to the pool as his mind blanked for thoughts.

Not for confusion, but for a simple emotion he truly disliked.

Spite.

A hatred so pure it was rending from him thought.

Shutting his eyes, he focused on the sting of his nails digging into his palm and quelled those thoughts. If he let them take over, he was sure Bleu wouldn't last very long. That was something he couldn't stand for.

A person like that deserved hell. To have the bottoms of their feet peeled and their toenails pulled for destroying that woman's mind to such a pathetic degree. Licking his lips, Parc was unable to notice the intense pheromones he was releasing until those very same girls who'd passed into the bathroom appeared from outside it. Still laughing and whatnot, though said laughter halted the moment their nostrils flared and eyes were drawn his way. Practically slobbering from the sickeningly addictive smell exuding from him. It may not have affected them as well as a Faunus, but as they approached him, unable to stop themselves, that meant little.

The first, a petite redheaded girl hooked to his left while the blonde, short cut one took his right and after little convincing, dragged Parc into the toilets. Filling the room and the area around with loud cries and moans.

***

Arriving back at Bleu's side, Marigold let out a relieved sigh as she came to sit atop the pool chair. Her heart pounding heavily.

"Took you a while." Bleu muttered, continuing to read his book though tossed narrowed eyes up to the opposite end of the pool where Parc Evans once sat though had since disappeared.

Marigold hesitated, he certainly wouldn't be happy if she told him, but he would be just as angry if she didn't. "I…" she paused and searched for an escape only to hang her head and whine, "I ran into that Evans boy."

Bleu's wandering eyes paused and turned to her, sharp, dominating, urging her for more. "Really? Explain."

She shivered in response, "he-he was waiting outside the toilets for me. It, he kept saying you were abusing me but he's wrong. I told him he's wrong that you love me that-that you don't hit me."

He said nothing. Just stared. Glared, scowled and hissed her into a ball. "I do love you, Marigold," his breath shifted, softened, "and I always will." Still not seeing the boy, Bleu slammed his book shut and set it on the small table between his and Marigolds drinks and sat up. He turned to her, leaned over and took her hands into his own, his smile loving as he peered with silken endearment into her eyes, "no matter what that little boy says. That will never change." His thumb rolled over the back of her hands, calming her heart into a steadier beat. When he released her, dropped to her knees and pushed down on them as a support to help him stand, that kindness disappeared rapidly. "But I can't let a brat run around tossing nonsensical rumours around."

"No, Bleu let the boy-"

"Marigold." He snapped, silencing her in one leaving little room for her to stop him. "Now, just wait here. Order yourself another drink or something to eat, and I am going to find this irritating little boy and set things straight." Bleu waited for a moment, just staring down at her as if welding her in place, as she nodded and hung her head, unable to lift it and look him in the eyes, Bleu's footsteps drew him farther, he skirted around the pool. His back pulled Marigold's head up, finally able to see him fading smaller, not even looking to her to make sure she wasn't moving as he knew she wouldn't dare to.