The castle Raphael Sorel made his lair in was one of the most dreary things Ivy had ever seen, and that included the state her own home had fallen during Earl Valentine's madness. The countryside could have been beautiful once, before its monstrous lord had come to roost and drained it of all life, both literally and figuratively. Appropriate enough that he presided over such desolation in a ruin, the expensive tapestries he'd used to line the walls only barely covering decay.
Also appropriate was the fact that she'd dressed in mourning garb for her wedding day. In her black dress and veil, Ivy reflected wryly that she was more covered now than when entering the field of battle. But this was a battle in its own way, no less a power play than crossing blades, and Ivy's agreeing to it showed just as much of her deathwish.
When Raphael's soldiers had come to bring her, the only thing she'd insisted on was being allowed to keep her sword.
"The only way to part me from Valentine is to kill me, gentlemen. And if your lord wants me dead, he will want to do it himself."
She rode in the carriage clutching the blade in one hand and Raphael's letter in the other. Its terms were simple enough, and she intended to hold him to them.
The knight Siegfried Schtauffen lies in my dungeon awaiting his fate. Should you wish it to be a merciful one, I beg you to accept my offer of marriage. I await your arrival with great anticipation.
Ivy had wanted to laugh when she'd first read it. That was Raphael for you- melodramatic in every aspect. Then again, she'd already heard he was in possession of Soul Calibur, so it was easy to believe he was also in possession of its former owner. Even now, riding to what some might term a fate worse than death, Ivy had to admit to a certain morbid curiosity as to what a creature of chaos intended to do with an instrument of law.
Upon reaching the castle gate, the soldiers escorted Ivy inside. As dismal as her surroundings were, she was surprised not to see more servants. Only Raphael himself stood ready to greet her, one hand gripped around the handle of a sword roughly his own height. Ivy wondered how he managed to wield it. Siegfried at least had the muscles and training to handle its bulk, but Raphael was a fencer with a fencer's lean body. The thought of him struggling to lift Soul Calibur almost made Ivy laugh.
"Lady Isabella. I am honored by your presence."
Ivy did not return his cold smile.
"I held up my end of the bargain. Where's yours?"
Raphael nodded curtly at his men, and they left down the hall. He extended a welcoming arm to Ivy, and she took it after some hesitation.
"Don't you have more servants? I wouldn't want to be marrying into a family of poor means."
"I did once, my lady. But since acquiring Soul Calibur, I have...dispensed with those not of the utmost necessity."
He didn't need to explain any further. Ivy knew what he was capable of, and knew the peculiar brand of insanity that seemed to overcome the wielders of Soul weapons. Siegfried himself had taken to raving in the day before his defeat, talking of creating a new world free of all suffering in manner that he wouldn't elaborate upon. If Raphael hadn't crossed paths with him, Ivy had feared she herself might be forced to turn her blade upon him.
She hated to admit it, but victory had done wonders for Raphael's appearance. The last time she'd seen him, he'd been a shambling wreck with a sickly body. They said he was truly inhuman now, subsisting off stolen souls. Whatever he was living off of, he was living well. His pale skin had lost its sallow tone, his eyes gleamed, and what he'd said about cutting away all that was unnecessary apparently didn't apply to personal grooming; his hair and clothing were immaculate. Ever the dandy, even when living in a ruin.
The same could not be said for the prisoner being dragged in by the guards. Poor Siegfried's stumbling could not entirely be attributed to his shackles; she suspected that he'd grown weak when parted from Soul Calibur, just as Raphael had grown strong. His long hair was matted and obscured his vision, but when he finally looked up and saw Ivy, his eyes grew wide.
"Ivy? Is it really you?"
So they hadn't told him. Ivy looked down, not wanting to be the one to explain things. Raphael, however, was happy to oblige.
"You should be thanking Lady Isabella. Evidently you mean enough to her to trade your freedom for hers. Or should I say-" his eyes flicked from Siegfried to Ivy- "the soon to be Lady Sorel?"
"No!" Siegfried lunged forward, but was easily subdued by Raphael's men. "Ivy, you can't! I can't let you!"
"Then you shouldn't have gotten caught." The words came out harsher than Ivy intended, and her gaze upon Siegfried turned gentle. She searched for words to tell him she would be alright, but none came. It struck her now that she had absolutely no idea what was in store for any of them.
"I am a man of my word. Your freedom has been purchased, and I'll even give you a two day head start before having my soldiers chase you. I think that's a very merciful offer. Make the most of it while you can." Raphael seemed more bored than angry at the curses offered towards him, and seemed to forget the man entirely once he was dragged out of his sight.
"One more thing, Lady Valentine. I regret that I must ask you to cast away your sword."
She shook her head.
"I've given you my freedom. You won't get my soul."
In a lightening-fast motion, Raphael had lifted Soul Calibur and held it at her throat. So he could wield the thing after all- she had no idea how, but assumed magic must be involved. He even held the giant sword like a rapier. Still, she made no move to drop her own.
"But my love," he whispered, "I fear you may try to kill me."
"I may do that with or without my sword."
He laughed, then lowered his blade.
"Perhaps. It's just as well- we can use it in the wedding ceremony."
The surprise must have shown on Ivy's face.
"Don't look around, darling. I have no kidnapped clergyman tucked away to pronounce us man and wife. Creatures such as ourselves need vows a bit more binding, and as luck would have it, we both possess living, thinking instruments who will act as far better witnesses. Take up your sword, if you will not surrender it."
Her hand gripped Valentine tightly enough to feel it writhing beneath her fingers. Whatever she was about to do, her sword didn't want any part of it.
"Swear upon your sword, and I will upon mine. Swear by Valentine that you will be my faithful and loving wife."
Faithful and loving. Words could lend themselves to several meanings, any one of which would be problematic. At least he wasn't asking her to swear subservience- even he couldn't expect miracles. Ivy would have to take her chances, for she knew Valentine would not let her break an oath made upon its name. She could still refuse, letting both Siegfried and herself take their chances at survival, but they both knew she would not. As soon as she had stepped into Raphael's carriage, she had made her decision.
"I swear upon my sword to be your faithful and loving wife."
Raphael placed both hands upon Soul Calibur. Perhaps he was so caught up in the triumph moment that he failed to think his words through, sardonic though they may have been.
"And I swear upon mine to be your faithful and loving husband."
The master bedroom was dusty from disuse, though it had clearly once been lush and opulent. Raphael made no mention of why it had fallen into disrepair, but perhaps he no longer needed sleep- or he might sleep in a coffin instead, for all Ivy knew. Raphael went to pour wine while she sprawled across the canopy bed, considering just what she had gotten herself into.
"If you're considering how to kill me," came the voice from the hall, "you'd best save yourself the effort. I've won. Even if you were to run me through, the spirit of my sword would drag me back from hell."
He could have been bluffing- but if her own father had managed such a trick, it was likely Raphael could as well. She turned her head and saw him standing, carrying two goblets filled with dark wine the color of a garnet. At least it was the wrong color for blood, but she wouldn't put anything past him.
"There's one thing I still don't understand," she said. "Why me? There must have been someone else who would pay Siegfried's ransom."
"But why would I want them to?" Raphael approached the bed and placed the goblets on a side table. "On the eve of my victory, I traded one old enemy for another. One upon whom my revenge would be far more enjoyable."
Raphael's hand brushed her cheek, soft and utterly cold. The strange thing was that she could easily imagine other circumstances under which she would have welcomed his advances. Terribly handsome and refined, certainly, but there was also something else in him she recognized- an unwitting kinship. After all, she couldn't deny that she had once been devoted to Soul Edge, and her actions then had been as blind and bloodthirsty as anyone she now fought.
Recalling this, she moved to meet Raphael's caress. Enjoying the look of surprise on his face, she gave him the smallest of smiles.
"Raphael, you poor fool. You really have no idea what you're doing, do you?"
He recoiled as if she'd struck him.
"How dare you-"
"How dare I? Who's getting revenge on whom tonight? Surely you didn't expect me to lie back and stroke your ego." She grabbed Raphael's arm and pulled him down onto the bed. He looked affronted, but didn't try to push her off.
"I know the soul swords," she continued. "I helped destroy one of them. You said yourself they were living, thinking things. I wonder how much of yourself is left beneath its monstrous will?"
Raphael was silent a moment, then seemed to regain his footing. He rolled over so that he was on top of Ivy, his cocky grin returning.
"So insubordinate. You forget, dearest Ivy, that you live and die, suffer and survive at my command."
"Do I? You swore upon your sword. You're bound to me just as I am to you, forced by your own words into love and faith. Did you think I would agree to any arrangement that didn't offer me a fighting chance?"
Raphael leaned down and stopped her words with a kiss. His lips were as cold as his hands, and there was such force upon her that Ivy wondered if he could drink her soul with such a kiss. When he granted her air to breathe, she saw that he was shaking. Perhaps she was as well; it had been years since she'd permitted herself such intimacy with a man. She'd have never thought the next time would be with a man she hated, no matter how charismatic.
"I desire you" he said, his voice heavy and almost reluctant. "I intended to be cruel. What is it about you that eludes me at every step, even in my bed?"
In that instant, Ivy made up her mind what she would do with her situation. She could not deny the thrill of danger that came from proximity to such a man, and a good fighter always found a way to turn things to her advantage. His lips moved down to her shoulderblade, and she gave a sharp intake of breath at the chill.
"This is the sort of wife I will be to you," she whispered. "I will bear you no children; I am an alchemist, and understand how to control such things far better than you. My blood is corrupted as yours- the difference is that I know it, and know how to control it. If you mean to have me for your wife, you will have an enemy hindering you at every turn. We are sworn to each other now, and our marriage shall be a constant struggle for dominance. The only question is, who shall triumph?"
Raphael looked her in the eye, and for a moment she saw him as he must have been long ago- a cast-off from society, unsure of his footing and hiding from the world, with only his sword and his arrogance left to him.
"I could corrupt you," he said.
"Don't flatter yourself," she responded coyly.
He fell upon her, and Ivy welcomed his embrace.