Every couple lied.
There was no such thing as "equality" or respect, not from anyone.
A man will abuse his woman, beat her, rape her, make her his slave. His plaything.
A woman will go behind her husband's back, fucking someone else, betraying his trust..
Love is merely an illusion, oh yes.
Love weakens, love blinds you and leaves you unable to see before its too late.
That's why everything had to burn. Everything had to be purged.
Oh yes, she had seen the signs. Felt the tremors.
She could smell the sulphur in the air, taste it on her tongue as she looked from her dark corner, eyeing the disgusting people from her hiding spot.
Their time would come.
Oh yes.
xoxoxo
When Rosmary married her beloved Emmet, there was nobody that notices the cracks in the perfect facade.
She was all smiles as she walked down the aisle, radiating with seemingly happiness.
He smiled happily as well, reaching out his hand towards her, calling her beautiful and saying this was the happiest day of his life.
Nobody could see the dark bruises on her sides, hidden underneath her wedding gown.
They gave their "I do's" without hesitation, the kiss looked sweet and loving. And as they stood together as their guest applauded, nobody would have guessed the pain that had happened just two nights before.
Over three months had passes since the night Emmet had claimed Rosmary as his own; taken her with force, demanding and finally having it.
He had left her crying on the couch, unable to move, the shame of what had happened clear in her eyes.
She had hoped it was a dream, prayed that it was just a nightmare, but as night turned into day, she knew it had been real.
She had hoped that Emmet would realise his mistake, apologise to her. Pray for her forgiveness, say something that would make it clear as to -why- this had happened. Anything to make the pain a little easier to handle.
But nothing came.
He got out of bed, ate his breakfast, watching her as she was still laid on the couch, unable to move from the rough handling he had given her. Then he had left, but not before locking her into a room with no windows. He didn't want risking her escaping after all, telling someone about what he had done. That would just ruin everything.
Rosmary knew then that the nightmare wouldn't end with that one act.
Almost every night Emmet would come back and he would repeat it. Sometimes it was just a quick tryst, him breaking her down onto whatever surface that would suffice.
Other times he would take his time, tormenting her and making her beg for mercy. But mercy was never given to her.
Slowly and steadily he broke her down until he had tamed her, threatening her and her parents if she ever breathed a word about what was going on. He abused her, crushed her spirit until he knew that she wouldn't run to her parents for help. In less than a month, he had her broken. He would release her from the "prison", watching her as she returned to the church, serving her parents a perfectly crafted lie about why she had been gone for so long without a word.
'A plea,' she had told them, giving them both reassuring smiles. 'Paladins wishing the aid and warmth a priestess could give them, soothing words and blessings given before and after battles with the wicked undead. A beacon of light to give them strength to press on when everything seemed dark.'
Her parents had nodded and smiled at the poetic words, giving their daughter a proud smile, praising Rosmary for her dedication and hard work.
They had not seen the empty look in her eyes, the way she subtly reached for their hands, wanting to ask for their help, but choking on the words. Because she knew that Emmet was watching her every move.
Soon he didn't have to watch her. He knew that she would behave. Would return to his side, accepting the harsh treatment.
Emmet had never viewed himself as a harsh man, not really. He had a bit of a temper yes, but it served him well in battle.
But there was something that did bother him. In time, the Paladin had felt that his grasp on the light was faltering more and more though, even more so after he met Rosmary and he didn't like it.
He felt it was Rosmary's fault, having tempted and teased him until he had lost his control that first night. She had deserved it. So he took out his frustration on her while holding onto every little bit of control he had over the light.
It was hard work, but he managed. He had control.
He liked control, craving control and this… In his mind, this was just another way of control. Making sure his woman was staying good and true while he was away. At least that was what he kept telling himself. Justifying his means.
He felt no guilt, no remorse in what he had done to her.
Rosmary was a good woman though, a good toy; a perfect doll for him to play with. Behaving and working hard when away. Submissive, and yet fighting ever so slightly when he claimed her.
He wasn't a bad man. He just had needs and Rosmary would have done what he had desired eventually. The only difference was that they now had rings on their fingers.
It was her duty as his wife.
At least that's what he told himself, every time he saw the red marks on his wife's body. Heard the whimpers, the silent pleas, the hurt look in her eyes.
Besides, she wasn't even protesting that hard anymore.
Just when he got very rough.
He was rough though because he liked that, liked that fight in his woman. Meant that she wasn't broken, just tamed.
And Rosmary was tamed, at least for the most part.
She didn't want to see the ugliness inside Emmet. She didn't want his face to get pulled into that horrible sneer, see that darkness in his eyes. She didn't want him to lift his hand and strike her.
She knew she deserved it.
If she had just been a better wife, a better woman… Then he wouldn't have to do it.
That's what he told her. Ever since that first night, that's what he'd said.
And surely people could see it and if they didn't do something, then it had to be so, right?
She just didn't know and that in turn helped prove Emmet's points. That she was stupid, unworthy. A bad wife.
She still prayed though. Every night, before he came to bed, she prayed to the light to save her. She hadn't lost faith, not completely, but for every unanswered prayer and every bad thing Emmet did to her, her hope and faith got smaller.
Like a flame that was slowly choking.
By now, only the dying embers of the once so strong faith was still burning inside her and she was desperately trying to fuel the flame.
But it was hard, so very, very hard…
For weeks, months, she endured the pain, the humiliation as Emmet did what he wanted with her.
A few times she had stopped resisting, hoping it would be over quicker then, but Emmet would always find one way to make her fight. She quickly learned that unless she responded, it would just go on longer and the punishments would be harder.
So she fought when she was supposed to and was submissive the rest of the time.
Nobody suspected anything.
It was hard to understand why someone just couldn't see what was going on, but then again, Emmet had done his job well.
And Rosmary helped covering it up, even without realising it herself.
Emmet had such a good grip on her that despite the fact that Rosmary never left the house, she could still entertain guests.
Her parents visited often and Rosmary would play the part of the perfect wife; happy and feeling the bliss of being home, taking care of the house for her beloved Emmet as well as tending to her husband.
On the rare occasions she happened to have visible bruises, she dismissed it with a laugh, even showing them properly. "I am so clumsy," she would say before telling a well-practiced story of how it happened.
She had done it so many times that lying became second nature.
In time, she didn't even have to practice the stories. She just took them out of the air as naturally as breathing.
She was, in short, turning out perfect for him.
She just needed a little more training, a little more taming.
So as Emmet continued his control, his ways of "teaching Rosmary her place", Rosmary took it all. Everything that Emmet gave her, she took with an almost hungry look in her eyes.
Hungry for affection, for love.
For the approval of her husband.
Just so he didn't have to beat her anymore.
Because if she was good, if she was perfect, then he wouldn't need to do that anymore. Not ever again.
She had still hoped that someone would discover it. That someone could approach her in the brief windows when she was alone and ask if she was okay.
Emmet was away after all, often fighting with his troop and leaving her alone to tend to the house.
She was alone so often. She could speak to someone at so many occasion, but she was afraid.
She was afraid Emmet would find out and become disappointed with her.
She was afraid that Emmet would hurt her or, at worse, leave her.
She couldn't bare the thought of him leaving her.
Besides, Emmet didn't beat her that often anymore.
She was the perfect wife for him, after all. Giving him what he wanted, when he wanted it and however he wanted it.
She cooked, she cleaned, she entertained and she behaved.
She was perfect.
At least she tried to be.
But sometimes panic took over. Sometimes she wanted to get away, she didn't want to be punished for not being good enough, and that's when that beast came out.
That horrible, horrible beast.
The beast that would hurt her, force her down, take her with force... He would make her cry in shame and pain.
And he would enjoy it.
He always enjoyed it.
And Rosmary didn't.
She never had.
xoxoxo
Emmet was still gone the day a man from the Silver Hand came to her door, knocking on it firmly with a gloved hand.
When Rosmary opened it and saw the tabard, she gasped, immediately thinking that something had happened to her husband.
"No, no, your husband is fine," the man had reassured her before gesturing towards the living room. "May I come in, ma'am?"
Rosmary was sceptical, but eventually nodding, opening the door and letting the stranger inside.
"What brings you here," she asked softly, her voice gentle. Careful.
Men... tended to make her nervous these days.
"Forgive me, I am being so rude," the man said, turning to look at Rosmary before bowing.
"My name is James Rowe, I am a paladin with the Silver Hand. I have... Served with your husband, Emmet."
"Is he well," Rosmary asked, gesturing towards the small, lit living room.
"Tea, Ser Rowe?"
"Oh, no thank you," James declined, sitting down onto one of the chairs, the helmet he had held under his arm shifted and placed onto the floor.
"And yes, Emmet is good. He is mostly in high spirits, but I suspect that he is missing his wife."
Rosmary smiled while pouring herself a cup with tea, her hand slightly trembling.
"Well, his wife misses him terribly so if you see him, make sure you tell him."
"I will do so, ma'am, but... I did wish to talk to you," James said in a careful voice, lowering it as if afraid the walls had ears.
"About Emmet. If you will indulge me."
Rosmary raised an eyebrow, carefully adding some sugar and honey into her tea.
"That entirely depends on what you wish to discuss with me, Ser."
"His fellow troop-members are... Concerned about him. Despite being in good spirits when gathered with his fellow paladins, but there is something on his mind. Something... Heavy. I dare say dark."
The paladin leaned a little forward, resting his elbows onto his thighs as he looked at Rosmary.
"Have you noticed anything of the sort, ma'am? Anything... Different about your husband?"
"Different how?" Rosmary asked, a slight frown on her face.
"I have not noticed anything different save from him being a little stressed. There has been a lot of dangerous things going on as of late. Orcs, invaders. It would be enough to make anyone a little stressed, no?"
"Of course, ma'am, forgive me," the man said quickly, placing his hand over his chest and bending his head in a small apologetic gesture.
"I did not mean to insult you, your husband or anything of the sort. I am merely raising a concern that has been a... worry for the troop."
"Well, you have nothing to be worried about here."
"I am glad to hear so," James replied.
"We were happy when Emmet announced his engagement to such a fine woman such as yourself. He seemed happy, blessed. Calm. We had not seen him like that in quite a bit of time."
"... Oh?"
Rosmary quickly lifted the cup of tea to her lips, nipping at it so the man would not see her biting her bottom lip.
"Oh yes. Emmet is one of our fiercest warriors, but as a paladin... He was starting to lack. We believed he was starting to loose sight of himself, but then it seemed like he found it again. Faith wavering happens from time to time, but it was worrisome... The light was not as responsive to him as it had been."
"I... see," Rosmary said slowly.
"But if he seems all the better now, then I see no reason for concern."
"I would agree, but he has not turned better. He seems more... Aggressive now. I can understand it, he has a wife he wishes to fight and protect, but... We are merely worried."
"Well, there is no reason for concern," Rosmary repeated, placing the cup back onto the table hard.
"So if there was nothing else..?"
"It was not," the paladin said, getting up from his chair after picking his helmet up from the floor.
"Forgive me, ma'am, I did not mean to overstay my welcome."
He walked towards the door, but as his hand landed on the door-handle, he turned and looked towards her.
"... But if anything happens, ma'am... Anything at all. Know that you can come to the Silver Hand and get help."
"I will remember that. Thank you, Ser Rowe," Rosmary said, walking towards him so she could see him out.
"Then I bid you a good day, ma'am," James said, bowing his head at her before leaving the house.
Rosmary quickly shut and closed the door behind him before turning and leaning her back against the hard, wooden surface. Her heart was pounding in her chest, her breath was quick and uneven.
So close... It had been so close...
But she wasn't sure exactly what had been "so close"... So close that her Emmet would be caught doing something bad..?
Or so close to grasping a hand that was reaching out towards her, wanting to help her out of the darkness Emmet was covering her in.
She honestly did not know.
And that thought frightened her.
xoxoxo
Fire would rain from the sky. Fire and brimstone and lava and sulphur.
Everything would burn. Everyone would burn.
Everyone.
From the lowest rat trying to crawl into their little holes to the mightiest king, hiding in his fortress.
Nothing could withstand the fire and flames from the mightiest of hell.
Everything would burn.
The dirt, the grim, the disgusting slime that was covering their world.
Yes...
Yes...
Everything would burn.
Soon.
So very, very soon.