Dead Plate Oneshots My Lord

Warning: contains female Vincent

The grand hall was alive with the hum of music and laughter as Prince Rody, newly crowned king, reclined on his golden throne. His kingdom had celebrated his ascension for days now, but none of the revelry excited him quite like the indulgence of his personal desires. The first decree Rody made after claiming the throne was to take the most beautiful women from the village as his concubines. The notion of luxury and pleasure appealed to him greatly, a king should enjoy the best life had to offer.

The court was filled with whispers of jealousy and ambition, as every noble family sought to push their daughters into the royal harem, hoping to gain the favor of the new king. Though many of the women were lovely, none captured his attention quite like Vanessa.

Vanessa was not like the others. Dark-haired with deep, piercing eyes that held a mystery behind them, her beauty was quiet but undeniable. Her presence demanded attention without the need for loudness or vanity. When she was first brought before him, Rody had barely looked at the others. Vanessa’s grace captivated him, the way she carried herself, so composed yet cold. She stood apart from the fluttering beauties who filled his chambers. Her aloofness only made her more desirable.

Within weeks, it was obvious that Vanessa was his favorite. He spent more time with her than any other woman in his harem, finding solace in her quiet confidence. While the others vied for his attention, throwing themselves at his feet, Vanessa merely stood by his side, waiting for him to come to her. And come to her he did.

As much as Rody indulged himself in his newfound power, Vanessa indulged in Rody. She had watched him closely since the moment she had been brought into his chambers, observing every nuance of his character—the way he carried himself, his moments of pride and hesitation. Slowly, she found herself falling for him. But this love, deep and consuming, quickly turned possessive.

Vanessa could not bear to share him with the others. Every time Rody was seen with another concubine, a fire burned within her. The laughter of other women at the king’s side, their secret glances as they passed her in the halls—it all became unbearable. Vanessa began to see the other concubines not as rivals, but as obstacles. They were nothing compared to her, yet they distracted Rody, taking his attention away from where it truly belonged: on her. Something had to be done.

The first to disappear was one of the younger concubines, a delicate girl named Elodie. Elodie had been a favorite for a short while, known for her sweet demeanor and enchanting voice. But one night, she was found floating in the palace’s fountain, her lifeless body pale beneath the moonlight. A tragic accident, they said. Her feet had slipped on the wet stone, and she had fallen.

Vanessa, ever the quiet observer, had been the last to see her alive. She had watched Elodie’s eyes widen as Vanessa’s hands found her throat, the sound of rushing water drowning out her gurgled cries as her head was forced under the surface. When the girl’s body finally stopped struggling, Vanessa had walked away without so much as a glance back. No one suspected her.

With Elodie gone, Vanessa hoped Rody would turn to her completely, but he did not. Other women filled the void. Each day, another would catch his eye—a soft smile here, a gentle touch there. It was maddening. Vanessa’s jealousy grew, and with it, her cruelty.

The next was a concubine named Isolde, a striking beauty known for her wit and charm. Unlike Elodie, Isolde had been clever, ambitious even, and Vanessa had seen her as a more significant threat. Poison was Vanessa’s choice for Isolde. It was a slow, agonizing death, one that mimicked a wasting sickness. Isolde’s health deteriorated over the course of weeks, her once radiant beauty fading as her body withered away. No one could explain her illness, and by the time she died, she had become a shell of the woman she once was.

Again, no one suspected Vanessa. She played the part of the concerned companion perfectly, visiting Isolde’s bedside often, offering her sympathy to Rody when he showed concern for the ailing concubine.

But even with Isolde gone, it was not enough. The women continued to circle him, desperate for his attention. Each one was a threat to Vanessa’s place by Rody’s side, and she could not allow it.

One night, another concubine, Léonie, had the audacity to approach Rody during a feast, laughing and whispering in his ear as she placed her hand on his arm. Vanessa had watched from across the room, her hands gripping the stem of her goblet so tightly that it shattered in her hand. Léonie would be next.

Vanessa took her time with Léonie. She framed her for theft, planting jewels and gold in her chambers, ensuring that the guards would find them. When the accusation was made, Vanessa played the part of the shocked and heartbroken confidante, offering Rody her support as the poor girl was dragged away in disgrace. Léonie’s cries echoed through the halls as she was beaten and imprisoned, never to be seen again.

With each death, each disappearance, Rody grew closer to Vanessa. He found comfort in her presence, trusting her in ways he never had with the others. She had become indispensable to him, his solace in the chaos of the court. Vanessa’s heart swelled with a dark satisfaction, knowing that soon, she would be the only one left.

But as much as Rody relied on her, he was not entirely blind. He began to notice the pattern—the way the women who once filled his chambers were vanishing, one by one. The unease in the palace grew, rumors spread of curses, of dark forces haunting the royal harem. And though Rody never suspected Vanessa, a shadow of doubt began to creep into his mind.

One night, as he lay beside her, he voiced his suspicions. “It is strange, is it not?” he mused, his voice soft in the darkness. “All these women, gone. Do you think the gods are displeased with me?”

Vanessa turned to him, her eyes wide with innocence. “Surely not, my lord. You have been a just and noble king.”

Rody studied her face for a moment, as if searching for something beneath her calm exterior. But there was nothing. Vanessa had become an expert at hiding her true self, her mask of loyalty and affection impenetrable. He sighed and pulled her closer, resting his head against her chest.

“You are the only one I trust,” he whispered.

Vanessa smiled to herself in the darkness, her hand stroking his hair gently. The others were gone. Soon, it would be just the two of them. Only she was worthy of his love, only she could understand him. And no one, not even the gods, could take him away from her.

As Rody drifted off to sleep, Vanessa stared into the night, her thoughts racing. She had won. But deep down, she knew that her love for Rody, her obsession, would never be satisfied. There would always be threats, always someone else vying for his attention.

And if anyone dared come between them again, they too would meet the same fate as the others.

For Vanessa, Rody’s love was worth any price.

Months passed, and Vanessa’s grip on Rody’s life tightened like a slowly constricting noose. The palace was quieter now, with the concubines either gone or too afraid to approach the king. They lingered in the shadows, afraid to catch Vanessa’s piercing gaze or step out of line. Everyone knew, though none dared speak it aloud, that Vanessa was the queen in all but name.

Vanessa first heard the news in the most unassuming of ways. The palace was abuzz with preparations for something grand—something that had the servants whispering with excitement. At first, she thought it was yet another diplomatic banquet or perhaps an event in Rody’s honor. But then she caught fragments of conversation from two passing maids in the corridor.

“Can you believe it? A royal wedding, at last!”

“A princess for our king. They say she’s from a powerful kingdom to the west. Princess Manon… such a lovely name, isn’t it?”

Vanessa froze where she stood, her heart skipping a beat. **A wedding? A princess?**

Her mind reeled, struggling to process what she had just overheard. A wedding? Rody, her king, was taking a wife? A noblewoman, no less—a princess from another kingdom. Not just any marriage, but one forged in power and alliance, far above the station of any concubine.

Her vision blurred for a moment as her chest tightened. The very air around her seemed to grow colder, the hallway suffocating and dark. **How could this be happening?**

Rody had chosen her time and again, after all. He had lavished her with attention, had come to her more than any other. He had shared his private thoughts with her, had held her in ways that made her feel special, irreplaceable. He had **needed** her.

She clenched her hands into fists, nails biting into her palms. **No**, she told herself. This must be some kind of mistake. There had to be some misunderstanding. Surely, if Rody were to marry, he would have told her. He wouldn’t keep something like this from her.

But as the days passed, the whispers became louder, undeniable. The palace buzzed with talk of the impending union, of Princess Marianne’s impending arrival. The halls were filled with preparations for the grand event. Vanessa tried to ignore it, to shut it out, but there was no escaping the truth that pressed down on her like a weight.

Rody was going to marry. Not her, not one of the concubines, but **another woman**.

Vanessa’s composure faltered. The long, calculated mask she had worn so well over the months began to crack. She found herself pacing in her chambers, heart racing as her thoughts spiraled.

**How could he do this? After everything they had shared? After all she had done for him?** Did he not see how devoted she was? Did he not understand that she had sacrificed everything to be by his side? That she had eliminated every threat to their bond?

Had it all been for nothing?

That night, Vanessa couldn’t sleep. She lay awake, staring at the ceiling of her lavish chambers, her mind consumed with images of Rody standing beside this **Marianne**, smiling at her, holding her hand, sharing the intimacy that Vanessa had thought was hers alone.

She imagined Marianne draped in the finest silks, sitting beside Rody as they ruled together, their union a spectacle for the entire kingdom to admire. **Marianne**—this faceless, princess who would now stand where Vanessa had stood, who would become the queen, the mother of Rody’s heirs. Vanessa’s stomach churned with fury at the thought.

She would not—**could not**—allow this to happen.

The next morning, Vanessa watched from a distance as Rody prepared to meet with his advisors. He looked so calm, so composed, as if the looming wedding meant nothing more than a simple political arrangement. As if it wasn’t a betrayal of everything they had shared.

Vanessa knew she had to confront him. She had to hear it from his own lips, to make him understand the consequences of this decision. But she also knew she couldn’t approach him as she had before. Rody was a king, and kings did not take kindly to defiance.

Instead, Vanessa played her role perfectly. She approached him with the same graceful ease she always had, her voice soft, her demeanor as serene as ever. When she found him alone in the gardens, the scent of blooming jasmine filling the air, she took a deep breath, steeling herself for what was to come.

“My Lord,” she began, her voice steady, though her heart pounded in her chest, “I have heard whispers… of a marriage. Is it true?”

Rody looked at her, his expression unreadable. For a moment, there was silence between them, and Vanessa felt her throat tighten.

“It is true,” Rody finally replied, his tone as calm and measured as ever. “I am to marry Princess Marianne. The kingdom needs this alliance, Vanessa.”

The words struck her like a dagger to the chest. **The kingdom**—was that all this was to him? A political necessity? Did he not care for her at all?

Vanessa swallowed, her throat dry. “But… I have been loyal to you, My Lord. I have stood by your side through everything. Have I not proven my worth to you? How can you—”

“This is not about you, Vanessa,” Rody cut her off, his voice firm. “It has never been about you. You are a cherished concubine, but the role of queen was never yours to take. Manon’s marriage will secure the future of this kingdom. That is my duty as king.”

Vanessa’s heart shattered at his words, though she kept her face composed. **A cherished concubine**—that was all she was to him, despite everything. Despite the love she had given him. Despite the lengths she had gone to in order to protect their bond.

She could feel the fury rising within her, but she forced it down. She could not let him see the extent of her rage, not yet. Instead, she bowed her head slightly, masking the storm within her.

“Of course, My Lord,” she whispered, her voice barely above a breath. “I understand.”

But as she walked away, Vanessa made a vow to herself.

She would not let this stand. Marianne would not take her place. Rody belonged to her, and her alone.

And if anyone stood in her way, they would pay the price.

**Even a princess.**

Vanessa’s mind churned with venomous thoughts, her steps light as she moved through the corridors of the palace. The words “The Lord’s marriage” echoed in her head like a sinister chant, filling her with rage and bitter resentment.

**Marianne.**

The princess had a name, one the entire kingdom seemed to know and revere. But Rody—he called her **Manon** in private, a name that rolled off his tongue with far too much ease, far too much warmth. Vanessa had overheard him speaking with his advisors, his voice carrying through the halls as he discussed the marriage preparations. Each time he said her name—**Manon**—it grated against Vanessa’s very soul. It was an intimacy she could not bear, a reminder that this woman, this **princess**, would soon stand where she believed only she should stand.

That night, as the palace quieted and most of the royal staff retreated to their chambers, Vanessa remained restless. The thought of Marianne arriving in mere days gnawed at her, clawing at her insides. She could not—**would not**—share Rody with this woman.

As she paced her chambers, the dim glow of candlelight casting shadows on the walls, a plan began to form in the depths of her mind. The other concubines—she had dealt with them swiftly, quietly. Each one had been an obstacle, and each one had fallen by her hand, their lives extinguished before they could ever truly rival her for Rody’s affection. She had perfected her craft, eliminating threats with precision and cunning, leaving no trace of herself behind.

But Marianne… this would be different. The princess was not just another concubine to be pushed aside or silenced. She was a royal, a woman of power and influence, someone the kingdom would celebrate. The people would adore her, the advisors would praise her, and worst of all, **Rody would marry her.**

Vanessa’s grip tightened around the edge of her vanity, her knuckles white with tension. She stared at her reflection in the mirror—her face beautiful, unblemished, framed by soft curls of dark hair. But there was something in her eyes now, something cold and unrelenting.

She had killed before. She could do it again.

But this time, it had to be perfect. It had to be more than just an accident or a mysterious illness. It had to be a message, a demonstration that no one—**not even a princess**—could take Rody from her.

Vanessa left her chambers in the dead of night, her steps silent as she made her way to the royal gardens. There, nestled among the herbs and flowers, she found what she was looking for. A small, innocuous plant—deadly when used correctly, its effects swift and brutal.

She plucked a few leaves, careful to handle them with the utmost care. **Just enough to weaken, to cause suffering, but not death. Not yet.** Marianne would not die right away—no, she would suffer first. She would feel the slow creep of poison in her veins, the agony of her body betraying her, weakening her spirit. And when the time was right, Vanessa would strike, delivering the final blow herself.

The next few days passed in a blur of preparations for Marianne’s arrival. The palace was filled with excitement and anticipation, every corner bustling with activity. Servants polished the grand hall, courtiers gossiped about the beauty of the soon-to-be queen, and Rody—he seemed content, his mind already on the future he would share with **Manon**.

Vanessa watched it all unfold with a mask of calm, her heart burning with hatred beneath the surface. She bided her time, waiting for the perfect moment to act.

And then, the day came.

Marianne arrived at the palace in a grand procession, her carriage adorned with the finest silks and jewels. The people lined the streets, cheering as she stepped out, her presence radiating grace and poise. She was as beautiful as the rumors had said, with delicate features and a regal air about her that made Vanessa’s blood boil.

From her vantage point in the shadows, Vanessa observed the princess, her eyes narrowing with contempt. **This is the woman who thinks she can take my place?**

Later that evening, a grand banquet was held in Marianne’s honor. The hall was filled with laughter, music, and the clinking of goblets as the nobles toasted to the royal union. Vanessa, seated among the other concubines, watched as Rody sat at the head of the table, **Manon** at his side.

Her jaw clenched as she watched them together. **How dare she sit so close to him? How dare she smile so sweetly in his presence?**

Vanessa’s moment came when the first course was served. As the servers brought out trays of delicacies, she slipped away from her seat, unnoticed in the sea of nobles. In the kitchen, she found what she had been waiting for—the princess’s plate, prepared with the utmost care. The cooks were too busy to notice as she carefully sprinkled the poison onto the food, ensuring it mixed seamlessly with the spices.

When she returned to the banquet hall, she watched with bated breath as the dishes were served. **Marianne took a bite**, her expression serene as she tasted the finely crafted meal. Vanessa smiled to herself, knowing that it wouldn’t be long now.

Hours passed, and as the banquet came to an end, Vanessa followed the princess’s movements closely. Marianne’s face had grown pale, her steps faltering slightly as she rose from her seat.

The poison was working.

But it wasn’t enough to kill her, not yet. Vanessa had more planned for the princess, something far more personal.

That night, as Marianne rested in her chambers, weakened and unaware of the true cause of her illness, Vanessa slipped into the room. She moved like a shadow, silent and deadly, her heart pounding in her chest as she approached the princess’s bedside.

Marianne lay there, her breath shallow, her face contorted in pain. She was vulnerable now, weakened by the poison, but still alive. Vanessa stared down at her, the dagger in her hand gleaming in the moonlight.

“You thought you could take him from me,” Vanessa whispered, her voice low and filled with venom. “But My Lord is mine, and I will not share him with you or anyone else.”

Marianne’s eyes fluttered open, her gaze unfocused as she tried to make sense of what was happening. But before she could react, before she could call for help, Vanessa struck.

The dagger plunged into her chest, silencing her forever.

As the life drained from Marianne’s body, Vanessa stood over her, breathing heavily. The deed was done. Rody would never marry her now.

Vanessa stood over Marianne’s lifeless body, her heart racing as the weight of what she had done settled in. The room was eerily silent, save for the soft rustle of the curtains in the night breeze. Marianne’s blood stained the sheets, dark and viscous, seeping into the delicate fabric with a sense of finality.

She had won.

For a moment, Vanessa allowed herself a brief, twisted satisfaction. Rody was hers, truly hers, now that this pathetic princess was no longer an obstacle. Marianne would be mourned, of course. There would be grief and investigation, but there would be no trace of Vanessa. She had mastered the art of subtlety. No one would ever know.

But the victory was bittersweet. Deep down, Vanessa knew she could never reveal her actions. She would still have to share Rody in the eyes of the court and the kingdom, pretend to be one of his many concubines, rather than the one who held his heart.

But it was enough. For now.

With one final glance at Marianne’s pale, lifeless face, Vanessa gathered herself and slipped out of the room as silently as she had entered. The night would wash her hands of this, just as it had so many times before.

The following morning, chaos erupted in the palace.

Servants screamed in horror when they found Marianne’s body, her royal bed now a blood-soaked scene of tragedy. Word spread like wildfire throughout the kingdom. The princess was dead.

Rody’s reaction was immediate. He was in a state of shock, disbelief clouding his sharp mind as he stared down at Marianne’s body, now cold and stiff. The beautiful woman who was meant to be his queen, to stand by his side, had been taken from him before the marriage could even take place.

Vanessa watched from the shadows, as she always did, her heart pounding in her chest as Rody’s grief unfolded. His fists clenched, his face twisting with a mix of sorrow and rage. She could see it—the pain of losing Manon was etched into every line of his face.

For a brief moment, Vanessa’s triumph was tainted with doubt. She had done this for him. For them. But seeing the depth of his sorrow, the way he mourned this woman so deeply, made her stomach twist with an unfamiliar emotion.

Had he loved her?

No, it couldn’t be. Rody was hers. He always had been, even before he realized it. He was meant to be with her, not with some royal stranger who could never know him the way Vanessa did.

But that didn’t stop the gnawing fear from creeping in. She hadn’t anticipated how deeply Marianne’s death would affect him. Perhaps she had underestimated his attachment.

Days passed in a blur of mourning and whispers. The kingdom was devastated. Rumors spread like wildfire, and despite the palace’s best efforts to keep the investigation discreet, it became clear that Marianne’s death was no accident. There was talk of poison, of foul play, and fingers began pointing in every direction.

Vanessa kept her distance during the public mourning period, knowing it wasn’t the time to show herself too much. But she still watched him, carefully, as Rody grew more distant, more withdrawn. His usual indulgent, carefree nature was replaced by something darker. He barely smiled now, and when he did, it never reached his eyes.

It wasn’t until one late evening, when the palace had begun to quiet down, that Vanessa found her opportunity.

She entered Rody’s chambers unannounced, just as she had done many nights before. He was seated by the window, staring out into the gardens, his posture tense, his eyes distant. The weight of his crown, newly inherited, seemed heavier now than ever before.

“My Lord,” she whispered, her voice soft as she approached. “I’ve missed you.”

He didn’t turn to look at her, his gaze still fixed on the gardens. His jaw clenched slightly, but he remained silent.

Vanessa moved closer, her hand resting lightly on his shoulder. “I know you’re hurting. I can’t imagine what you’re feeling right now, but I’m here. I’ve always been here for you.”

Finally, Rody stirred, his head tilting slightly as if considering her words. His hand reached up, covering hers on his shoulder. The gesture sent a shiver of triumph through Vanessa’s body.

But then he spoke, his voice low and tired. “She didn’t deserve that.”

Vanessa’s heart skipped a beat. “What… what do you mean?”

Rody turned to face her, his eyes dark and piercing. “Marianne. She was innocent. She didn’t deserve to die like that.”

Vanessa felt the ground shift beneath her feet, her composure wavering for just a moment. “Of course she didn’t, My Lord. But—”

“Don’t.” His voice was sharp now, cutting her off. “Don’t lie to me.”

Vanessa’s breath caught in her throat. He couldn’t possibly know. She had been so careful. So precise.

“I don’t know how,” Rody continued, his voice low and dangerous, “but I know you had something to do with it.”

Panic surged through her, but she forced herself to stay calm, her mind racing. She had to deny it, to play the part she always did. “My Lord, how could you even think that? I would never—”

“Don’t play me for a fool, Vanessa.” He stood now, his height towering over her, his presence suddenly cold and commanding. “I’ve known for a long time. The other women… the concubines… they didn’t just disappear. I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want to believe it. But now…”

His voice cracked, the grief slipping through his otherwise steely composure. “Now you’ve taken her from me.”

Vanessa’s blood ran cold. She had never seen Rody like this before. The carefree prince who indulged himself in every pleasure had vanished, replaced by a man who had lost too much.

“My Lord, please,” she whispered, reaching out to him. “I did it for you. For us. I couldn’t let them take you from me. I—”

“I never asked for this!” His voice rose, filled with raw emotion. “I never wanted this, Vanessa!”

For the first time in her life, Vanessa felt truly powerless. She had believed her love for Rody would justify everything she had done, that he would understand, even if he didn’t approve. But now, standing before him, seeing the anger and devastation in his eyes, she realized how wrong she had been.

“I loved her,” Rody whispered, his voice broken. “And you took her from me.”

Vanessa’s heart shattered at those words. He loved her.

No, it couldn’t be. She wouldn’t believe it. Rody belonged to her. He always had. Marianne had been a mistake, a distraction. She had only been protecting him.

Vanessa could feel the weight of the world crumbling around her as Rody turned his back on her, his final words echoing in her mind: **”I loved her.”** The pain in his voice, the bitterness—it was all too much. But even then, as her heart shattered in her chest, something inside her refused to let go. She couldn’t lose him, not now, not after everything she’d done.

Rody was hers. **He had to be.**

Desperation clawed at her insides, but she kept her eyes on him, her hands trembling at her sides. **She had killed for him, sacrificed for him, all in the name of love.** He just needed to see, to understand.

With unsteady steps, Vanessa approached him once more. “My Lord,” she whispered, her voice breaking, “I did it for you. For us. Everything I did… I did because I love you.” Her voice grew softer, more frantic, her words laced with madness. “You don’t understand, Rody. She was going to take you away from me. They all were. I was just protecting what’s ours.”

He remained silent, his back still turned, but his body was rigid, like a coiled spring ready to snap. Vanessa’s hands twitched with longing, wanting to reach out, to hold him, to make him see.

“They don’t deserve you!” Her voice rose, hysteria bubbling to the surface. “None of them ever did. Not Marianne, not the other concubines, not anyone. I’m the one who loves you, truly loves you. I was the only one who was always by your side, who cared for you when no one else did! You don’t need anyone but me.”

Rody turned around slowly, and Vanessa’s heart soared for a moment, thinking perhaps he had finally heard her, that he understood the depth of her devotion.

But the look on his face was not one of understanding. It was cold. Detached. **Dead.**

“Enough,” he said, his voice low and dangerous.

Vanessa blinked, confused. “My Lord…?”

“You took her from me,” he continued, his gaze burning with hatred. “And now, I’m going to take everything from you.”

Before she could react, before she could even comprehend what was happening, Rody’s hand shot out, grabbing her by the throat. The force of his grip made her gasp, her hands instinctively flying to his wrist, but there was no escaping his strength. His eyes bore into hers, cold and merciless.

“M-my Lord, please!” Vanessa choked, her fingers clawing at his arm, panic seizing her. “I… I did it for us! For you!”

He said nothing, his expression unchanging as his grip tightened, cutting off her air. She struggled against him, her vision blurring, her lungs burning for breath. But even in the face of death, she refused to let go of her obsession.

“Y-you don’t… understand…” she rasped, her voice barely audible. “I… love you… My….Lord… only… you…”

Her legs buckled beneath her, but Rody held her upright, his grip unrelenting. Vanessa’s body convulsed as she fought to stay conscious, her vision going black at the edges. **She couldn’t lose him. She couldn’t let him go.**

“I… love… you…” she whispered one final time, her voice a broken echo as darkness overtook her.

Her hands fell limply to her sides, and Rody let go, letting her lifeless body crumple to the floor.

For a moment, there was nothing but silence. The room was still, save for the soft rustle of the curtains in the night breeze. Rody stared down at Vanessa’s body, her face pale and slack, her once-beautiful features now twisted in death. The madness that had consumed her in life had left her in a twisted parody of peace.

But Rody felt no peace. **Only emptiness.**

He had loved once. And now, that love was gone, replaced by the hollow ache of betrayal and loss.

With a heavy heart, Rody turned away from the body on the floor, walking into the shadows of his chambers. Behind him, the twisted love that had cost so many lives lay cold and dead, its echo fading into the darkness.