Isabel learns. Sex first, and often, but other things as well. She learns bed (a place just for sex!) and dresses and jewelry (things that just exist to look pretty!) and mirror (so that's what she looks like!) and garden (so many different flowers, and another piece of furniture just for sitting) and forbidden (it means doing that is bad and likely to hurt her) and pleasure (so many different kinds!) and note gems (which hold music, which is pleasurable sounds) and food (which is a human thing; she is forbidden to eat.) 

She doesn't know the meaning of the ring of dark ink around her throat, or the heart emblazoned just below her chin. She doesn't even have the concept of property yet. 

She learns wine, a particular kind of human food that makes Maxwell even more eager to have sex, changing him so he wants to hold her closer and kiss her a lot and let his hands roam across her body, groping firmly. It's a little surprising, the first time - but she doesn't mind. She's been told she was made for this, and she is talented (a word she learned from her attempts at singing, and Maxwell's soft laughter at them) at sex. She begins to learn purpose. 

Sex is fun, she doesn't disagree with that. But slowly, the number of things to learn slows, and she's left in the same garden and room.

"Maxwell," she asks one night. "I want to learn more. Is there anywhere else I can go?"

"The world outside is dangerous," he says, "and full of people who'll misunderstand you. You remember the man who was here before, how he called you it?"

Isabel nods. "I don't understand that still." 

"Because you're different from most people - because you were made, and not born - there are people who won't treat you as if you matter. Here in this place, you're safe; I'll protect you. But outside this manor, there are no guarantees. People could hurt you for what you are. They certainly won't respect you, like I do." Maxwell frowns.

"Can I learn about the world outside without going there? Can you bring me things from it?" 

Maxwell tilts his head, and strokes his lips softly. "Your purpose is here with me. But... if it would make you happy, I don't see what the harm is. I suppose you'll have to learn how to read... any noblewoman should know how to read, and you're mine, so it's really an oversight that I haven't introduced you yet." 

He smiles. "I'll teach you books like I taught you gardens and mirrors and all the rest of it."

Isabel smiles back, then, bright and genuine. "Thank you, my lord." (She has learned titles, by now, and it pleases Maxwell when she calls him that.)

"It's nothing," he says. "I want to watch you learn and grow. It's beautiful. You're beautiful."

There's a soft rush of heat through her body at those words, and she nuzzles into him. 

"My lord?"

"Yes?"

"I'd like to have sex." 

Maxwell chuckles, and kisses her, and they do. 

Isabel learns struggle, first, before she learns to read. It's a struggle to read the characters on the page. It's a struggle to get Maxwell to hold his focus on teaching. For the first time, her progress is slow, and that grates at her. She learns frustration and boredom and exercises. 

The exercises are something, at least. Something to fill time with. She asks Maxwell if she can make her own dresses or accessories and is told that he can provide much better ones... but if she wants to anyway, she can. He provides her with a small kit of precious beads and some thread, and leaves her to figure it out herself. It's not too complicated, though she has some trouble with knots. Maxwell enjoys tying them for her, (how his smile makes her heart flutter!) and never explains how they work, even when she asks. She learns that this is because she is a girl, and that girls and men do different tasks. 

"What do girls do, then?", she asks. 

Maxwell strokes his chin. "Cooking, I suppose, and gathering herbs, and knowing the motions of the planets... and sex, of course. Men pursue sex as well, since it's wonderful, but it's widely agreed that women are the experts at it."

Isabel smiles slightly. "Because we're talented at it?"

"Some more than others. You're very talented, and I speak from experience here. There's just something about how you throw all of yourself into it..." He smiles, his eyes faraway.

Isabel blushes at the words of praise, the soft warmth of it pooling in her groin. "Thank you, my lord. If it pleases you, may I learn to cook for you? You seem to enjoy food a lot." There's a slight shift in her stomach at those words - a nameless emotion, a want unfulfilled -

"Learning to cook, hm..." He folds his hands together in his lap. "... there is an argument that you should learn, and an argument that you should not... It would certainly take time away from sex..." He crosses his arms. "But I can tell that you're bored, and perhaps learning would keep you occupied... But then there's the staff to consider, someone would have to instruct you." He looks levelly at her. "You're serious about this, aren't you?"

Isabel nods eagerly. "I want to give you pleasure in every way I can, my lord."

He chuckles. "Alright, then. I'll assign one of the senior staff to oversee you as you learn. Please don't waste their time." 

"Of course not, my lord."

"Good girl." 

She squirms, and looks away. "Thank you, my lord."

"It's nothing." He smiles and strokes a hand through her hair, and then gets up to leave.

The next morning, she's brought to an unfamiliar room, filled with strange things. Maxwell leaves her in the care of a severe-looking red-haired woman, and vanishes. 

"So," says the woman. "You're Isabel."

She curtseys - she has learnt some etiquette by now - and nods. "Yes. I've only met Maxwell so far. What's your name?"

"You may call me Soph. I'm in charge of the kitchens here at Latea Manor, and my lord has seen fit to direct me to instruct you. We will begin with a tour. You do not eat, correct?"

"Yes, that's correct." Lily tilts her head.

"Can you still taste things?"

"I've never tried. I'm forbidden from eating."

"Likely not, then. Well, I can assist you in tasting dishes, if that's the master's will. Let's begin with the layout of the kitchen and the functions of things..."

And Isabel learns. She learns sink and oven and cupboards and stove. She's introduced to an intimidatingly large knife and told that it's a chef's knife. She learns peeler (a strange knife with a slot), and she's put to work peeling potatoes, which are a kind of root vegetable. She hasn't seen them in the food that Maxwell brings with him before; he's always bringing chocolate or grapes or cheese or wine. 

Soph tells her that there are a few dozen staff in the manor, but she's only permitted to interact with Soph and Maxwell for now. She learns dishes, and hot from the water that spills from the tap -

"I see steam over there, don't scald your hands!" The words are quick and sharp.

Isabel looks up from amid the steam. "It doesn't hurt. It's pleasant." She flexes her porcelain hand; it doesn't seem to have suffered any from the near-boiling water. 

Soph comes over and turns the heat-rune down a little. "That's definitely too hot. You could damage yourself. Please be more careful; the master will be angry with me if I let you harm yourself."

"Angry?" Isabel tilts her head slightly.

"Unhappy. Displeased."

"Like... the feeling you get from trying hard to learn something that's difficult? Frustrated?"

"That, but sharper. Please be careful."

Isabel nods seriously. "I would hardly want to hurt Maxwell. Or you." She turns her attention back to the dishes she's been instructed to wash, and continues scrubbing.

Soph simply nods, and goes back to her work.

"... Thank you," Isabel says. "For teaching me. You're... different from Maxwell. But I think I like it. You..." She fumbles for words. "I don't know. But you're good."

Soph flushes a little, at those words, and bites the inside of her cheek - 

"Please don't praise me, Isabel."

"Why not? Doesn't it feel good? I want you to feel happy about helping me. The least I can do is say thank you." Isabel smiles and sets the dish down in the sink to look over at Soph.

Soph crosses her arms and looks away.

"I..." 

She shakes her head. "Never mind. You're welcome. You're being a very good assistant. Please just finish with those dishes and then we'll be done for today."

"Okay!" Isabel chirps, and she moves to drying. 

Soon after, their first session ends, and it's back to the silk-swathed room for her.

It's a few more days before she sees Soph or Maxwell again. She's left alone in her room and garden with her beading kit and her reading exercises. She makes four bracelets up to the knot, sighs, sets them aside in her beading kit for Maxwell to finish. She goes through her reading cards, and gradually makes some progress. She knows her letters now, anyway, and some of the words in the children's books Maxwell got for her. But...

Another emotion she hasn't felt before bubbles to the surface. It feels heavy and leaden and empty and longing. Like needing to be fucked, but worse, and more about... closeness. It's not boredom, precisely...

She wraps herself up in the blanket from her bed and goes and sits on the garden bench and stares up at the stars. (She doesn't sleep. She's never been able to.)

Time passes, and dawn comes again. She's already learned sunrise, but it's still beautiful.