Modifier for this Drabble:

Darius Dark - Was Badly Betrothed

When his financial troubles leave him in dire straits, Darius is forced to do something truly terrible - get married. And it seems that his new bride is even worse than most...

'Til Death Do Us Part

The wine had been drank, the food had been eaten, and the loud cries of revelry had slowly faded into silence as day turned to night at Blackwater Watch.

Darius Dark sat alone at a table amongst the soiled glasses and stained plates, watching the dying light of the candle before him as it flickered and danced.

Today had been his wedding day. And it had been the worst day of his life.

It had been a union of necessity, not passion. Shortly after Darius and his Den of Deformity had rolled into town, they were paid a visit by the Blackwater clan - led, naturally, by their fearsome matriarch. As he announced the acts and entertained his (very small) crowd, Darius couldn't help but notice how the old woman's eyes forever remained fixed on him.

After the show, when he'd headed into his caravan to retire for the night, he was interrupted by an unexpected knock on the door. Upon opening it, he was stunned to find that the crone had followed him. She asked him for a quick word, and naturally, being a gentleman, he permitted her to enter.

"It's not too bad, your little carnival," she'd told him. "Still, it's a bit small and shabby for someone of your talents. You've a lot of potential."

Darius was flattered.

"Thank you," he'd replied. "I had hoped to build this up into something much greater, but sadly, funds have been something of an issue for me."

"I thought as much," the Old Dam said. "What you need is a partner."

"A partner?" Darius answered. "I doubt it. I like to run things around here my own way. I'd struggle to work with anyone else."

"Oh, goodness, no, I didn't mean a business partner," the Old Dam added hurriedly. "A man of your gifts has every right to work solo. I was thinking more along the lines of someone who would offer you financial support without interfering in your affairs."

"But what would I give them in return?"

Smirking, the Old Dam had reached out her clammy, wrinkled hand, and stroked Darius' cheek. The ringmaster's blood turned to ice in an instant. Perturbed, he backed away against the wall, as the old crone watched him and laughed.

"Oh, come now, Mr. Dark!" she cackled. "You're a handsome young man. You'd make a fine husband to someone such as myself. And with a fortune such as mine, it would hardly be a worthless endeavour on your part."

"But - but I..." stammered Darius, "I - I could never - "

"Love me?" The Old Dam laughed even louder. "How sentimental of you! Love and marriage are not the same thing, young man. Love may indeed be a precious thing, but it's not going to keep you out of the poorhouse."

She paused for a moment, still smiling evilly.

"Then, of course, there is the matter of social class," she added. "Being wedded to me would certainly raise you up the ladder, would it not? Influence is a key part of fame, and being seen with me will ensure you have plenty of that. You'll be one of the greatest figures in society today. Not bad for a man born and raised amongst circus freaks."

"That's enough, you wicked hag!" Darius snapped, outraged. "Get out of here, and stay out! I never want to see your wrinkled old face again!"

A chuckle erupted from the mouth of the sinister matriarch.

"Play holier than thou all you like, Mr. Dark," she whispered, heading towards the caravan door. "But I advise you to think carefully about my offer. The wolves won't stay away from your door forever."

Sadly, she was right. As the weeks went by, Darius' situation became more and more bleak. The already-low attendance figures continued to decrease. Creditors and loan sharks threatened to take away everything he had. And soon, even his beloved troupe members were forced to go hungry, with no food remaining in the stores to fill their stomachs.

That treacherous witch had been right. He had no choice. If he wanted to keep those he cared for safe and alive, there was only one thing he could do.

Thus, one tragic night, Darius gave Samson a note he had written - the bearded man being the most trustable as he was unable to read - and instructed him to deliver it to Blackwater Watch. When the Old Dam received this missal, she was thrilled to see it was signed "D.D.", and that the body of the message consisted of only two words.

I do.

And so, here Darius was: a married man, joined in holy and legally binding matrimony to a woman he despised. As he watched the candlelight flickering - like a prisoner trying to break free of its bonds - he was interrupted by the entrance of the grizzly groundkeeper, Willem.

"Evenin', Mr. Dark," Willem said to his new master. "Pardon the intrusion... I just wanted to pop by and wish yer good luck."

"Thank you, Willem."

"No, sir - seriously," the handyman told him, in a gruff, matter-of-fact tone. "Good bleedin' luck."

"Excuse me?"

"Well, yer do know yer not her first husband, don't yer?"

"Of course. I assumed she'd been married before."

"Well, let's just say the last few didn't exactly die of natural causes."

"The last few?!"

"Four. Mebbe five. Yer lose count after a bit."

"And she...?"

"Yep - every one of 'em. Even the fathers of her kiddies. Never proven in court, of course. Too clever for that, the old bitch."

Darius sank back into his chair, shaking... his face chalk-white.

"Still," Willem added, in a brighter tone, "she's getting on a bit now, and yer a young healthy fella. Keep yer wits about yer, and yer'll be fine. Probably."

With these words, Willem walked out. Knowing he was once again safe in his loneliness, hidden from prying eyes, Darius threw his head into his hands, and wept.

He'd had everything planned. Fritter away any money he could get his hands on to the Den, to make sure his wonderful pseudo-family of curiosities stayed safe, and then, when the old cow finally kicked the bucket, he'd run back there, inheritance in hand, and create the carnival of his dreams. Now, it seemed like she was going to be the one who ended up widowed - for God knows what number time in a row.

As he contemplated this, a steel-like strength took hold of the ringmaster's heart.

No. No - it would not be that way. He was going to survive this god-awful marriage and see the bitch buried. He'd outrun her. Outlast her. Or maybe... just maybe... beat her at her own game.

After all, he had four good reasons to do it. Three of them were named Samson, Mister Giggles and Thumbelisa. And the fourth was the most special of all.

The woman he had loved from the moment he'd met her. The woman that his affection for would keep him strong throughout this taxing trial: her face entering his mind in the sweetest of his dreams. The woman whom he would ask to become the second Mrs. Dark once the first one was finally in Hell where she belonged.

Elissandre. His beautiful illustrated lady.

With tears staining his cheeks and a sinister smirk crossing his lips, Darius Dark blew out the candle.