"I love you," he said. "And I will prove my love to you."
She looks on in wonder at her husband. She feels uneasy about this.
"Vayne, are you sure you want to do this?"
He looks down at the floor. "Do you want to come with me?"
"Of course I do," she says. The red haired woman stares at Vayne with gloomy eyes. She wants to die along with him, but she is having second thoughts. Vayne kneels and takes his wife's hands into his own. "I will try to make this as quick and painless as I possibly can."
Young Larsa listens from outside the guest room door. It is slightly open, but he can see and hear what is going on. He knows what his brother is going to do to avoid capture and imminent death by the Resistance.
"Do what you must, my love."
Vayne opens a nearby dresser drawer and takes out a ruby dagger. He cradles the red haired woman in his arms and traces the outline of her face with the tip of the dagger. He then positions it over her chest, ready to stab her in the heart.
"Forgive me."
Larsa opens the door to try and stop Vayne.
"Wake up, Larsa!" Vayne yells.
"What?" he looks at Vayne with quizzical eyes.
"Shhh, he's waking up—"
Larsa's eyes struggle to focus on the penlight shining in them. His pupils respond to the light.
"Is he okay?"
"He'll be fine, my lady," a nurse says. "His Majesty will have a little bump on his forehead, he will be fine nonetheless."
"Can someone tell me the time?"
"It is morning," says Basch.
Larsa tries to quickly sit up, but the pain makes him lie back down.
"How long have I been asleep?"
"You've been out of it for quite some time," Rachel explains. "You need to rest."
"I don't need to rest."
"Sir, if you don't rest, your injury may become worse," the nurse explains.
Larsa attempts to keep his calm, but the constant coddling is getting to him.
"I don't need to rest! It's just a bloody lump on my forehead for the Gods' sake!" He gets up off of the couch and stands up. "I do not need to be overprotected like some clumsy child!" Larsa storms out of the living room and goes upstairs.
That attitude of his reminded Basch of his twin and Vayne and any other Solidor he has met in the past. Gramis had that same self-important attitude, that holier-than-thou air about him. While Larsa was a child he felt bad for him because he is of that bloodline. Basch hoped Larsa would not become exactly like his brothers and father.
Rachel looks at Basch. "Shall I go talk to him?"
"No, my lady. Leave him be."
-------------------------------
While Larsa is in the shower, he thought about his future with Rachel. She is very beautiful, and sweet, and everything he has ever wanted in a woman, yet she is Rozarrian. Did his family not hate Rozarria? Did his brother not teach him about 'the ethics that can bring ruin'? Ethics such as kindness that yield nothing. Nothing brings ruin to man and country.
'Kindness is useless, brutality is necessary for the strong to survive.' That is what Vayne told Larsa when he was four years old.
Though he will not admit it, he misses his brother. He misses the days he would give him a piggy back ride through the rose garden, running fast, his armored boots clicking on the pavement. Larsa missed how Vayne would roughhouse with the toddler, staying up with him until he got tired. Vayne would read his toddler brother a bedtime story and give him a peck on his forehead when he fell asleep.
Then, he discovered nethicite. Vayne paid more attention to nethicite than spending time with Larsa.
As the hot water ran over his head and body, Larsa pushes the painful memories of losing his brother to insanity and focused on the day ahead.
He wishes he could see his brother just one more time.
Larsa gets out of the shower and wraps his lower half with a towel. Wiping the condensation off of the mirror, he stares at himself for a while. He touches the red crystal he wears on a thin nylon rope which hung from his neck. He found the crystal in the Dalmasca Estersand when he was fourteen. He hasn't taken it off since.
He stares at himself for a quite a while. Larsa really did look a lot like Vayne, perhaps too much. He runs his hands through his hair, positioning it over his left eye. Grinning, maybe he could get away with this new style.
A knock on the bathroom door, followed by a man's voice took Larsa out of his daydream.
"Sir? Your attire is ready."
Larsa smirks and leaves the bathroom.
Fully dressed in his outfit of black and silver armor, Larsa went on to do his usual work---ruling Archadia---which was exhausting. Standing on the huge marble patio, Archades looked so vast from his angle. He could see miles and miles of the Imperial Capital; it seemed Archades had no end.
He feels a pair of hands slide onto his waist.
"Hi."
Larsa places his gloved hands onto hers. Rachel snuggles her head onto his back.
"Comfortable?"
"Yes I am."
He turns around to look at her. With his hand around her waist he brings her closer to himself, literally pressing their bodies tightly together. Larsa then places his hands on her face and gives her a little peck on her forehead. Rachel places her hands on his wrists. He sensed something is bothering her. He lifts up her head so their eyes may meet.
"What's wrong?"
She smiles and remains quiet.
"What's really the matter?"
"I'm nervous about our wedding."
"Our wedding isn't for another five months. There's nothing to be afraid of."
"No, that's not it. I'm nervous because…I'll be a wife soon. I don't know the first thing about being a wife."
Larsa smiles. "That's what you're nervous about?"
"Yes. And don't laugh."
"Don't worry, I'll try not to."
Just when they are about to kiss, a servant interrupts them.
"My lady, your wedding attire is here."
"Thank you, Mai." Rachel whispers in Larsa's ear: "I'll see you later." She winks and then leaves with the servant.
-------------------------
Rachel stands in front of the hexagonal mirror, admiring her sparkling white wedding gown in every angle. The bright lights made the diamond encrusted gown shimmer even more. She has no idea that in just a few moments, her impression of a Solidor will change forever.
"You look...okay, I guess," says Basch. He has always saw Rachel in elegant gowns all the time, but her wedding dress really brought out the lady in her. She whirls around on the tips of her toes.
"So, what do you think, Basch?"
Basch felt a tad bit uncomfortable with that question. He scratches the back of his head.
"Um…you look…nice."
"Nice?" Smiling, she hops off of the pedestal. "Is that all, Gabranth?" Rachel throws her arms around his neck.
Basch found himself staring into Rachel's dark brown eyes. He has admired her for quite some time, but not in this way. The sound of Larsa walking in startles the both of them. The look on Rachel's face implied guilt on her part.
"You look very beautiful, love," Larsa says darkly. "I'm sure Judge Gabranth feels the same, do you not?"
Basch felt a lump form in his throat. Speechless, he rubs the back of his neck. Feeling pressed for words, he makes up an excuse.
"Yes. Very beautiful, my lady," he says while nodding his head 'yes.' Larsa gives him a very foul look, making Basch leave the room in a hurry.
"Mai, would you kindly leave? On your way out, will you lock the door?"
"Yes sir." Mai leaves and locks the door. Focusing his attention on Rachel, irately, he says:
"What was that foolishness between yourself and the Judge?"
Shocked, Rachel tries to explain herself. "Nothing, I assure you."
"Nothing? Holding him the way you were was considered nothing?"
Larsa grabs her hair, purposely tightening his grip. Rachel squeaks in terror.
"Larsa…what are you doing?!"
"What does it look like!? I'm teaching you a minor lesson for you to learn in the future." He brings her face closer to his. "If you are to marry me you will not make an attempt to flirt with the Judge. Do I make myself clear?"
'Yes," Rachel says tearfully.
"You will suffer the consequences." Larsa lets go of her hair. "Strip."
"What?"
"Strip. Now."
Rachel shakily takes off her wedding gown, letting it plop to the floor.
"Turn around and take off your undergarments."
She hesitantly does what she is told. Tears fall down her face; she is shaking with fear.
"Bend over and face the wall."
"Larsa…please---"
He slaps her. "I said bend over."
Rachel shakily does what she is told. Taking off his gloves, and with darkness in his voice, he tells Rachel the Solidor form of punishment.
"In my family, if a wife flirted with another man, especially a Judge, she will be punished like an impudent child."
With that, Larsa slaps her across the buttocks with his bare hand. He is heavy handed, which made the pain even worse. She cries out in agony.
"Stop crying! The more you weep the more it will hurt."
He slaps her across the ass once again, this time a little harder. Each slap across her ass made her feel less of a human, less of a woman.
"This is for flirting."
Another slap.
"This is for your poor behavior."
Another slap.
"Please…stop!"
He grabs her once more and shoves her into the wall. Larsa finds a pressure point in her neck and pinches it with his forefinger and thumb. The pain alone was enough to make her feel sick to her stomach.
"Look at me, Rachel."
She struggles to look up at Larsa.
"Fucking look at me!"
Rachel felt as if she were in another world. This is not the Larsa she met a year ago; instead, her fiancé is showing traits of his twisted family. Her sight blurred with salty tears, she found it hard to look up at him. Becoming impatient, Larsa pinches her face and forces her to look at him.
"Listen carefully," he starts darkly. "If I ever find you hugging, or even talking to Gabranth, prepare to be punished like the child you are. Do I make myself perfectly clear?"
Swallowing hard, Rachel answers him. "Yes…"
Twisting his full lips into a parody of a smile, Larsa releases her. Rachel falls to the floor nude, scared, and ashamed. Before Larsa leaves, he adds one more feature to his harsh discipline.
"Oh, there is one more thing, my dear."
He starts to undress in front of Rachel. Though she has seen him nude many times, she knew what entailed. Completely nude, Larsa grabs her waist and positions her in a way her body is at a weird angle. With her beautiful face in the mirror, she sees Larsa position himself behind her. His manhood felt as cold as ice and as hard as a steel blade. Her body begged for the pain to come to an end, but it did not. Rachel has been intimate with Larsa on many occasions, but this time he was not gentle in the slightest way.
Staring at the wedding gown, which is in a pile of diamonds and silk on the white carpeting, she found herself mourning the death of enchanted love.
This was only the beginning.