Authors Note: This chapter contains rape. Not the act itself as I feel I am not educated enough to convey such a brutal and horrible act, but the terror before and as it happens is written. If this makes you feel uncomfortable in any way, I would suggest not reading.

xoxoxox

The world never changed, it never would. Not as long as there was filth on the streets.

Dirty men and filthy whores, fornicating, seducing and violating. Bringing disorder and chaos into what could have been a perfect world.

She lied, of course.

The world would never be perfect. Not until all sapient beings were purged from the planet. Nobody was immune, nobody deserved to be spared. They were all disgusting, dirty.

They were all tainted by the darkness, seduced by the shadows.

The final judgement would be upon them sooner or later and she would welcome the flames that would cleanse her. That would free her from her own tainted body.

Nobody would be spared.

Nobody deserved to be spared.

xoxoxoxox

The time after her father had given his blessing for them to see one another had been nothing short of amazing.

Rosmary was now able to walk with pride down the street, her hand resting on Emmet's strong arm. To be seen with such a strong man, a man with a pure spirit and soul, it made her happy. It made her feel blessed.

Emmet was nothing short of a gentleman, asking her father for permission to pick her up and always delivered her safely back to the church before the sun was down. When he was away, fighting with the Lightbringers, he always wrote.

Sometimes the letters would be late, but that was to be expected. A carrier pigeon or messenger was not always there in the heat of battle.

Instead she would enjoy the letters when they came, even if Emmet was already back and at her side.

They took their sweet time, enjoying each others company, learning one another on a mental plane before Emmet took the next step. Down on one knee and a ring in his hand, he asked for her hand in marriage with only the moon and the stars as witnesses, basked in the faint light from the church.

It was perfect and of course she said yes. She knew she loved Emmet with all her heart and knew that this was the man she wished to spend the rest of her life with.

Her parents were thrilled as well when Emmet asked for their permission to wed Rosmary, and it was only a given that they would wed there in Stratholme. Emmet agreed, having no connections or family anywhere else. "Here," he said, smile wide as he held his fiancée's hand in his. "is my family. My new family"

Rosmary had just beamed up at Emmet, happiness clear on her face.

They had agreed on several things after their engagements; things that simply made sense for both of them.

They wished to be married during spring, when everything was coming to life. The rebirth of all life. The start of their life together. Yes, it was in the middle of autumn so they would have to wait a while, but that was okay. It would give them time to plan everything and make it truly perfect.

They also agreed that they would not join together in a physical way until they were wed. They wanted for their first time to be pure, holy; as husband and wife like it was supposed to be.

Rosmary's father had wanted to perform the ceremony himself, to give them all of his blessings, but he also wanted to walk his only daughter down the aisle.

It didn't take a lot of talking between Emmet and her father before it was decided that they would let a close friend of the family, a priest from Lordaeron, would come and perform the ceremony. Walking Rosmary down the aisle was just something her father would not give up for anything.

Planning for the wedding was something Rosmary was taking great pleasure in doing, humming to herself as she wrote down the list of things to be done as well as the guest list along with Emmet. Must was to be prepared, but figuring out the invitations was the easiest part of the job; her family, close friends and of course Emmet's friends from the army were all invited.

She felt a little shameful for feeling it, but Rosmary also felt a certain pride when she and Emmet could finally walk around the city, Rosmary's hand resting on his arm. She got small, jealous looks from the women from time to time, but far more congratulations, something that filled her with both a sense of joy as well as a smug sense of possessiveness.

Emmet was hers and they knew it.

Eventually Emmet got himself a small house in Stratholme and asked Rosmary to move in with him. She accepted, finding it to be a natural step in their relationship.

Though a bit sooner than expected, having believed they would wait until they were married until they found something, but Emmet said that he could not continue to sleep in a borrowed bed at the church without giving something in return. Especially when there were others that surely needed it more than he did. Besides, surely it was best if they had everything ready once they started their life together as husband and wife?

Rosmary agreed on that and with her parents' blessings, she moved in with him.

He had prepared everything for them, the home was furnished with everything they needed and placed near the church so that Rosmary didn't have far to go when she had duties to attend to.

A room of her own had been prepared next to his as well, so they could honour their wants and decisions until they were wed. Once they were married, his or her room could be made into a study, a guestroom or even a nursery for when that time came.

When away he would send most of his pay for her to either put in the bank or to buy groceries or other things she or they needed, wanting to tend and care for her even when far away.

All of this and more was more than enough for Rosmary to feel like she was the luckiest and the happiest woman alive.

At least for the time being.

The closer they got to the time of their wedding, the tenser Emmet became.

Rosmary could tell that he was under a pressure that he was unwilling to talk about. "Just do not think about it, my dear," he kept saying, giving her a loving smile and a kiss to the cheek.

She was worried about him.

Rosmary knew that there was a lot to do within the Lightbringers army; a new threat had started rising. Something different and far more lethal and unholy than orcs.

There were rumours that the dead had started to rise in the kingdom of Lordaeron.

She tried her very best to make her fiancée relax; she brought him tea, rubbed his feet and shoulders or even sitting next to his resting body, reading out loud from a book of his choice or the bible.

Sometimes she would hold him, caress his face and shoulders, but he responded a little too well to that. They would kiss, slowly at first before Emmet turned more eager, more firm. His hands would grip at her hip or side, or run down her leg, but she would stop him before he did something she did not approve off.

He always apologized then and said that she should leave him be. That he was just tired and needed some rest. She would always nod and give him a kiss good night before retreating to her own room, leaving Emmet to calm down.

That particular situation did not happen often, but for each time it happened Emmet would always go just a little bit further. One more caress, one closer touch to parts she did not approve off. He always did stop though and Rosmary excused it as tension, stress. If the rumours were true then she could more than understand that Emmet needed more contact with the living, something more close and personal than his fellow soldiers could provide. And was it not a good thing that Emmet desired her both as a woman and as a wife even if they could not lay with one another just yet? That he sought contact with her and not some floozy at a bar?

Still, the newfound tension was visible and it made Rosmary worry.

With the tension came drinking.

Emmet had never been a heavy drinker, just mead now and then with his fellow soldiers down at the inn, but now and then had turned into almost every day. While not drunk, Rosmary could smell the alcohol on his breath, especially when he pulled her close for a kiss. She didn't mind that, not really, but it made her sometimes turn her head away with a giggle, making a remark about his breath. When it started Emmet would chuckle with her and apologize, but it became more and more common that he gave her a dark look before releasing her from his arms and walking up to his room without a word.

It worried her, she couldn't deny that, but her worries were usually soothed in the mornings. Emmet would be a ray of sunshine, kiss her good morning and hug her before either he left because of duty or she left for her work at the church.

All in all, despite the tension, Rosmary counted herself as a lucky and blessed woman, and she wouldn't have her life any other way. Besides, tension was normal, was it not? This would be just one of many tests on their relationship and Rosmary was not about to shun away from it.

All too soon Rosmary wished she could take that back, a mere week before she was to wed her beloved Emmet.

It was a rainy night, dark clouds covering the moon and the stars, leaving Stratholme only illuminated by the residents own small lanterns. The heavy rain drummed against the windows, and despite the warmth and light from the fire in the fireplace, Rosmary felt cold. She kept sending glancing towards the door, hoping for Emmet to return as he had promised. She had already pricked her finger three fingers three times with her needle, distracted from her needlework by her thoughts and worries.

When Emmet opened the door with a loud bang, Rosmary jumped from the surprise, dropping her needlepoint onto the floor. "Emmet!"

She turned to look at him, gasping as she saw him just standing in the doorway, drenched. "Oh, don't just stand there, dear! Come in!"

When he didn't move, Rosmary got up from her chair, grabbing a small blanket that was lying on the small couch next to a table by the fireplace and brought it over to Emmet. She carefully wrapped it around his shoulders before carefully brushing the paladin's wet hair away from his face. She could smell the alcohol on his breath. "Emmet, are you alright?"

The hug she received was almost crushing, strong and firm arms wrapped tightly around her waist as he pulled her firmly against his body.

"Emmet?"

Her voice was shaking now as she wrapped her own arms around Emmet's neck, just holding him. He still didn't answer her, only breathed hard against her neck as he buried his face against it.

"Emmet," Rosmary whispered, her hands shaking a little. "You are scaring me, love…"

One arm tightened the grip while the other loosened its hold on the woman's body. A hand trailed over her back, towards her rump before gripping down hard.

"Emmet, what ar-" Rosmary's words were cut short as firm lips were pressed against hers, kissing her hard. She made a muffled protest, hands gripping at Emmet's shirt as she tried to push him away.

Easier said than done.

The kiss ended with a strangled gasp from her and a growl from Emmet as he buried his face against her neck, nipping firmly at her skin with his teeth, fingers gripping and tugging at her clothes. She could hear the growls coming from his throat; the growls of a beast.

This man was not Emmet. This… man, this monster was not her beloved Emmet. Sweet and kind Emmet.

"Emmet, stop it," she cried, trying to pry his strong fingers away from her, but to no avail. Instead she was rewarded with a hand over her mouth as she was forced down onto the couch, the large paladin's body covering her own.

Her screams were muffled by the palm covering her lips, the same palm that had cupped her cheek so very tenderly just a couple of days ago.

When Rosmary heard the fabric of her shirt being ripped open, feeling the cold air over her bare skin, she started screaming harder, feeling terrified. She bit at the hand, clawed and kicked at the man over her, but he didn't ease his grip on her. He did not stop the destruction of her clothes until he was satisfied.

Tears filled her eyes as she felt a rough hand ripped away her brassiere, the fabric digging into her back before it gave way to the paladin's strength. The same hand cupped at her bare breast hard, squeezing it enough to make her whimper in pain. Rough fingers pinched at her nipple while teeth nipped at the other breast, one hand holding her down firmly onto the couch.

This was just horrible, just horrible. Unreal. Rosmary's head was spinning with questions, with fears and doubts. The question that screamed out the loudest was 'why?' Why was he doing this to her? Why was this happening? Why was he not listening to her? Why wasn't he stopping? Why was God letting this happen?

Why, why, why?

Her head was so occupied with questions so when a rough hand started cupping her sex outside her underwear, she let out a muffled gasp of fear against his hand, her body immediately squirming to fight off the unwelcome touch. She started shaking her head, begging Emmet 'please no' with her eyes.

Emmet did not look back at her. He just gripped at the front of her smallclothes, tugging it down her legs before forcefully spreading them with his own body.

The grin on his face as he looked at her naked body terrified her. There was no remorse in his look, no sign of demon-possession. This was Emmet. Her Emmet.

And he was enjoying what he was doing.

His body was still clothed, but when he grinded his groin against her leg, she could feel the hard desire hidden inside his breeches. It was hot against her thigh; she could feel it even through the thick, cotton fabric.

'No,' she thought as she started fighting harder; legs kicking, fingers clawing at his face, nails digging themselves into his skin hard enough to draw blood. That earned her a slap with the hand over her mouth, the sound of his hand connecting with her cheek echoing in her ears. The same hand grabbed at her wrists and pinned them over her head hard while Emmet's mouth was pressed against her lips to silence her screams.

Still, the worse part was yet to come.

Rosmary barely registered that her body was released for the briefest of moments, long enough for Emmet to undo the front of his pants.

It didn't matter. She was paralyzed from the shock and the fear to take advantages off the situation. She felt numb, even if her heart was pounding in her chest, her blood surging in her ears, the tears from her eyes sliding down her cheeks without showing any signs of stopping.

The numbness was not enough to stop the pain that ripped through her body as Emmet pushed himself into her, making her scream.

Once again muffled lips silenced her screams before the only sound that was heard was her muffled whimpers mixed with his grunts of pleasure.

Rosmary squeezed her eyes shut as the man started violating her body.

How could he do this to her…?

Did he not love her?

Had all the sweet words he'd whispered in her ears all been a lie?

As much as the pain ripped through her body from the intrusion into her most sacred parts, the feeling of rough hands on her body, leaving marks that would never go away… It was the pain from being betrayed… The pain of loosing all confidence in the one she had loved with all her heart, watching as he indulged himself in the sins of the flesh with her body.

'Light, why have you forsaken me,' she thought in desperation, having all but given up fighting him. 'Light… Save me…"

But light never came for her, only the pain and humiliation from the act, leaving her feeling dead inside.