Author's Note: If you haven't seen the episode 3.03 ("Siblings") and don't want to be spoiled, turn back. Also will contain references to incestuous themes, so be warned.
Disclaimer: Borgia's don't belong to me.
Summary: She only wanted to be loved. Lucrezia/Cesare.
She only wanted to be loved.
It's been broiling inside of her for months, this loneliness that had unwittingly stricken her when her husband-to-be denied her his bed. Lucrezia missed the embrace of a lover. There was just nothing like it, this bliss in the aftermath. Intimacy at its finest; for in that, she could feel whole and true. She could be Lucrezia, the woman and not Lucrezia Borgia, the noblewoman and the daughter of the Pope. How funny is it, that Cesare could give her that without even trying?
She was no fool, she'd heard whispers, rumours, even servants talking for miles. It wasn't as if they were subtle about it either, the lingering touches and the smouldering gazes. It's only for a moment, she would tell herself. Just one hug, even a kiss perhaps. But of course, it was wrong; a sin of the gravest sort. There could never be anything between them other than ambition and duties. She realized that when her father mentioned a French bride for Cesare after she'd set course for Naples. Alone, she spoke in the darkest corners of her mind. She couldn't understand the betrayal in her heart, and she did not want to either.
Of course, she finally shook herself free of it and wiped away her tears. There was a marriage waiting for her, after all.
Alfonso would make for a good husband, they could learn to love each other and she would finally be happy.
He waited for the marriage bed, he waited for her. Lucrezia could be patient, would be patient.
But she was a fool, after all. Alfonso had left her cold and alone in his fury, and when she called out for him to come back, please there was a strange emptiness that seized her once the doors had been shut and she was left in her disheveled wedding dress. Why can they not love her? She clenched her fist and sobbed into it and remained in the state he left her in for a while before she finally told herself to stop. It was only in this moment that she could be truly sure of the nature of things. No one could give her happiness. She will take it then, consequences be damned. There was only one man, and he would never leave her. Never.
She set for his room in a hurry with this in mind, not caring if she left a trail of clothes. He once told her that he could make her happy.
Well he'd just have to make good on his promise now, won't he?