Juryrigged > Works > Writings > Arrangements
Elizabeth walked down the red carpeted aisle, all eyes upon her. She wanted to cry; not in joy, but in sadness, in agony at what was happening to her, what was being done to her. She slowly walked, each footstep like the toll of a death tone to her, like the booming of a nearby war drum. The veil of her gown dragged along behind her in a rumpled mass of creamy-white fabric while the organs chimed a haughty yet joyful song, something she felt nothing for. Every face was smiling down at her, wide grins, all happy for her on this day. Some cried, though, but their tears were ones of joy, not sadness.
She felt her knees, weak as they were, but kept them from buckling through sheer strength of will. She wanted to fall, to faint, but that wouldn't look good at all. She was getting closer to the steps of the dais, and as she ascended them toward the top where the bridesmaids, priest and acolytes, she stood face to face with him, the groom. It was her marriage, an arranged one, and one she hadn't wanted in any way. This man that stood before her she might have considered handsome at some point in her life, but his eyes, those strange crystal blues, held within them a malevolent coldness, and intelligence that bespoke of ruthlessness, of cruelty.
He did not smile as she stepped before him. No, this was his arranged marriage, too. He was thrown into this cauldron, this strange stew of life. His father wanted him to marry her, Elizabeth, to form an alliance between his own people and her fathers. That was how alliances were made, through marriage. This man, the man that she was to marry, he was not the older of two brothers. He was a pawn in a game being played by his father and his older brother.
But, it was that she, Elizabeth, was a pawn in the game as well. She hated it. The ceremony began as the piping organ died down and she listened with intent disgust to each word, each syllable, as they were uttered by the priest before her. And when it came to the speaking of the vows, she made her voice sound as sweet and lovely as she could, mustering strength within her she had never known, and in her ears, her words sounded hollow and dead.
His voice was calm, cool, almost kind, but the distance in his eyes, the coldness inspired no feelings within Elizabeth, and as he spoke the vows as well, his voice held within it the same hollowness, the same lack of emotion hers had. The exchange of rings happened, his hands smooth and cool as he slid the golden band around her ring finger. And when he leaned down and kissed her, Elizabeth despised it, for in that single moment, she knew that her freedom had been banished, and her role was now secondary to that the whims of men. He would not love her.
In her mind, Elizabeth could see how this man would treat her, how he would take her and ravage her, making her cry out and scream in pain. He would be cruel, for that is what she saw in his eyes. He would be unkind to her in private. He would beat her when none were present, but would be benevolent and kind and just when she was in court. In her heart, she hated him and everything about him. She wished him dead. He smiled down at her as their lips parted amide the cheers and tears of the audience of onlookers and the chorus of happy tidings being happily tolled by all, royalty and peasants alike.
His smile held no warmth, and as they walked back up the red-carpeted aisle, Elizabeth knew that her life had just ended. And to kill herself now would be to save herself the great agony of having to be the recipient of this man's cruel intentions for her life and body.
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The married couple walked down the great halls of Castle Dian Kaus, the husband, appearing to dote upon his new beloved wife and showing her naught but affection as they preceded toward the bridal suite. The wife, though, looked distant, as though her body was there, but her mind was gone, flirting around thoughts that took her elsewhere. Some made comments about this, but the King knew his daughter hated this arranged marriage, hated it the moment it had been suggested, hated it more when it had become reality.
The King felt for his daughter, but it really was the best for her. Hopefully she would see that, but the King held scant hope for it. If she did not bother to look and see it, why should she be shown it? The King watched as they entered the bridal suite, Elizabeth and her new husband, Prince-Lord Roukha, and as the door shut, the King hoped his daughter would see the light. But, Elizabeth felt sure that her body would no longer be her own as she stepped through the threshold alongside the monster of a man that was now being proclaimed as her husband.
The door clanked closed amid a rattle or turning gears from within the doorknob's mechanics, and Elizabeth closed her deep brown eyes, willing herself to be calm for what she knew would soon take place. She waited, taking in several deep breaths, but nothing happened. She kept her eyes closed, not wanting to see what he might be doing to get himself into any kind of 'mood.' And then his voice cut into her thoughts.
"What are you standing by the door for?"
She opened her eyes a sliver then blinked. He was standing over by the window, staring out for a moment, then turned his head and glanced at her.
"I-" she started, but stopped, not quite understanding the situation anymore.
He smiled at her, and this time, there was warmth in it. He walked over to a chair near the expansive windows and began the removal of his ceremonial armor and clothing, painstakingly removing it all piece by piece. Elizabeth walked toward the bed and glanced down at it and the nightgown that had been lain at the head to the forefront of the pillows there with forlorn disgust.
She heard a clank and looked over to see Roukha settle himself into the chair, barechested, wearing naught but his trousers. Elizabeth looked at him.
"Aren't you supposed to be doing something?" she asked angrily. Wasn't he supposed to be ravaging her, making her hatred of him substantial? Wasn't he supposed to be fulfilling the idea of a man who was supposed to be hated? She began to hate him for not making her hate him.
"Yes," he finally replied, opening his eyes enough to look at her, "I'm supposed to be sleeping."
That sounded odd to her.
"But, aren't you, I mean, that we're, that-"
"That we are supposed to consummate this grand and glorious alliance?"
So he knew exactly what it was, that it was a marriage only in name, not in meaning. Elizabeth found herself at a loss for words. How could a man who had appeared so cruel to her a moment before not want her now? Was he repulsed by her? Did he somehow find that her body appeared to not be adequate? Or was it that he had never been interested in her at all, that he was never interested in woman at all, that he… No, don't think that, Elizabeth scolded herself quickly.
"No," she finally said after a long pause, "No, it's that I thought you, that you would..." She trailed off and looked away, pulling her arms around herself self-consciously.
He barked a laugh, a derisive snort that made Elizabeth cringe inwardly.
"It's that you thought I would take you and ravage you?" He said, and raised his head enough to arch an eyebrow at her. She nodded, not looking up.
"I have no interest in any of that. My plan is to abstain long enough to leave you."
That caught her off guard.
"So, you don't want me?" she asked, some hurt evident in her voice.
He smiled, then said, "It isn't that I don't want you. You see, the whole reason this marriage was arranged was because I told my father--a slip of the tongue really. I sometimes can't believe I was foolish enough to have said such a thing. But anyway--I told him that when I came of age, I would leave the kingdom, strike out on my own and all that rot. Father doesn't exactly like my 'wasting' my life in such a manner, and certainly doesn't want me dashing away from my 'responsibilities' to the kingdom, so arranged a marriage as soon as possible. And here I am."
Elizabeth nodded. This felt odd to her and she was having conflicting emotions and views of this man, Roukha, now. He wasn't what he appeared to be.
"So, you will abstain?"
"Yes," he replied.
"Why?"
"Because, if I abstain, I will be able to get an annulment within the first three months or so, and leave to carry on my own life, and you to yours, and we can both forget this little mess."
It felt all wrong. Here was a man who was supposed to be her husband, and this was their wedding night, and they were to consummate their new life together, and he was going to abstain to get an annulment and leave her and get on with his own life. To Elizabeth, it was selfish. The man was like any man, selfish. But this man was unlike others in that he was willing to refuse her on their wedding night. What am I thinking? Elizabeth thought disdainfully. Here am I believing he was going to rape me and he does the opposite and says he doesn't want me? Shouldn't I rejoice that he wants out of this marriage as much as I?
No, it was because he was taking no interest in her, that he didn't appear to want her in any way that was making her queasy. It was the rejection that she didn't like, the feeling that it wasn't the whole plan he was going forward with, but the simple act that he found her somewhat inadequate as was thus rejecting her for it.
Elizabeth picked up the nightgown from the covers and stared at it a moment. The sheer blue tinted fabric was silky and soft beneath her fingers. Sighing, she turned her back to the would-be husband and began to unfasten her gown, unclipping each button and undoing the strings that held the dress in place. She slid her arms out of the sleeves and the dress dropped to the floor in a heap of rumpled creamy-white fabric surrounding long slender legs. She slipped out of her corset and pulled on the simple nightgown, keeping her back at all times to Roukha in the chair. If he doesn't want me, he doesn't deserve to see me, she thought angrily.
She pulled back the covers and slipped under them, pulling them tightly around her as she lay on her side, facing away from the window and Roukha. She wanted to cry, and clenched her jaw so that he wouldn't hear her sob if she did. The world had become cold, and she was being neglected in it. Why had the world suddenly forsaken her?
Roukha watched as she slipped off into sleep. It wasn't that he was rejecting her. He felt that if given enough time, he could love this woman. She was indeed very beautiful, and he felt a fire burning within him that would not be quenched, a voice that would not be silenced. And so he sat with his fire and his voice, burning and screaming. He would be patient and wait. He would leave her as he planned. Roukha did not want his brother to have access to the Dian Kaus army. Roukha knew his brother was a bloodthirsty bastard who wanted naught else but war and Roukha wished to deny his brother from that.
He would have to exercise extreme patient if he were to succeed, and succeed he would.
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Roukha awoke early that morning, his back aching slightly from having slept in the arms of the chair. Strange orange-red sunlight, the light of the worlds' primary, shone through the stained glass windows of the bridal suite, particles of dust suspended in the shafts of glowing light. He stood and stretched, pulling at aching muscles that refused to move, or even be flexible so early in the morning, especially after the awkward sleeping arrangement. Sighing, he began to dress himself quickly, pulling his clothes on quickly, not caring if they were rumpled. Roukha glanced over at the bed to where his bride in name lay, asleep surrounded by satin linen sheets, her hair rumpled and disheveled from the nights' sleep.
Roukha did find her beautiful, for she truly was. Her brown locks of hair were slightly wavy, framing her face, one that was sweet and kind, awake or unconscious. She deserved better than this, Roukha knew, but often life was not a fair mistress and ran wild with any whom pleased her while ignoring those would couldn't quite live up to her expectations. Fate and life, it seemed, were harsh mistresses, ones that Roukha felt he had not ability to please in any respect.
Bending down gently, Roukha brushed several strands of hair away from her face and kissed her forehead gently before rushing from the room as quickly and quietly as possible. A maid sat nearby and rose, a strange look on her face as she saw Roukha exit the room.
"Do not disturb her," Roukha said. "I have business with my brother. If you know of his whereabouts, please disclose this to me."
The maid nodded in comprehension and replied that Aronha, Roukha's brother, was in the library. Nodding and giving his thanks, he made for the library and what would most certainly be a confrontation. He found the library easily enough, and there, sitting at a table leafing through reports and volumes of text, was Aronha.
The library itself was a large room filled with bookshelves, each holding hundreds of volumes of texts, lining the walls and freestanding where there was room. In the center was a single table surrounded by ancient looking carved wooden chairs, the table itself hidden beneath an ornate looking tablecloth, as well as the obligatory pile of unread texts and reports. Roukha entered the library and headed for the table where Aronha sat, and taking a seat opposite Aronha, Roukha waited for his older half-brother to acknowledge him. Aronha finally looked up and smiled at his brother.
"Roukha, congratulations on your marriage to that wondrous and most angelic beauty of yours," Aronha said, his tone, while seeming sincere, held a note of mockery and sarcasm to it.
"Yes, yes, Aronha," Roukha said in response, rolling his eyes. "I'm well aware you would gladly have taken her, but you wanted two empires of power to be added to your holdings instead of one."
"Dear brother, Roukha, you believe I do this because I enjoy it?"
"Aronha, are you so stupid to think me a fool? I know you want the Dian Kaus people on your side just as much as the people you gained from marrying that wench of a woman from the ke Drona Empire. Their technologies will be greatly appreciated in the wars ahead, wars I'm sure that you will gladly instigate."
"Roukha, dear brother, that is not it at all!"
"Is it, Aronha? And what if I were to never consummate this marriage, hmm, what then? If I were to leave this lovely flower as pure as she was when I was given her, and thus, no alliance? I would be of age, and be allowed to make my own decisions, Aronha."
"And I would see you dead, Roukha, if you ever attempted such a thing. I would take that bitch of a wife of yours and impregnate her myself with you dead! I will have my alliance, and your bastard 'child' as proof, you living or not."
"And to think, no one knows how much of a loving brother you really are, Aronha."
Aronha smiled a predatory grin that did little to quench Roukha's fears, then said simply, "I do this for the betterment of us all, Roukha. Just trust me. Go," Aronha said waving his hand with dismissive gesture, "enjoy your wife as best you can. It really is a glorious feeling, you know."
Roukha nodded slowly, a tentative look in his eyes. He knew his brother wasn't giving idle threats. Within his mind, Roukha was already formulating a plan to leave, to get away, find some world if he could. All he really needed was a moment when Aronha's back was turned and a ship.
"As you wish, dear brother," Roukha said finally, standing up.
With that, Roukha left the library through the same entrance he had entered it in. Aronha watched him leave. In his mind, he saw Roukha as a problem that would have to be dealt with eventually. But currently, if Roukha played the good husband, Aronha would never have to worry about his brother's wife not giving child. But if he was going to abstain, and Aronha knew his brother had both the strength of will and conviction to do so, then things could very well get quite messy. Father would not be pleased at all, and father was one of the pushing forces behind all this.
"Fall in line, little brother," Aronha said in the empty room to no one, "else you will find that your are very much alone in your desires and the galaxy will turn against you if you try."
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Elizabeth had watched him leave the room, something he had done fairly quietly. Elizabeth hadn't slept much last night, though she was sure Roukha had. She had lay there, had feinted sleep for a good portion, and then he had walked up to her, her eyes still closed, and brushed aside her hair to kiss her on the forehead. It had taken a good portion of willpower to keep from opening her eyes and looking at him. It wouldn't have helped either.
Elizabeth wasn't sure if he felt some affection for her, but she couldn't be quite sure what he felt towards her at this point. She lay there, looking about the spacious room with a forlorn look on her face, a feeling of dread creeping its way through her. She rolled over from facing the door onto her back and stared up at the ceiling. She wasn't sure how long she lay there, staring up at the crafted, white plaster ceiling.
A click as the door handle was turned from the outside brought her back to attention, and she looked over toward the door, pulling the sheets up around her as she did so. Roukha entered, and glanced at her a moment, before closing the door and walking toward a closet. He didn't say a word as he began going through things, obviously his, placed there by servants.
She watched him for long minutes as he began to fold garments, placing each carefully within a large bag. Her curiosity began to peak, and finally Elizabeth couldn't fight it any further.
"What're you doing?" she asked.
"Packing," he replied, not turning.
"I figured as much. Why?"
"Because I intend to leave. Why else?"
Elizabeth thought of his leaving. He would leave, and she wouldn't. He'd be gone, she would be here, and scandal would ensue. Everyone could see that he abandoned her, that he didn't want her at all. People would believe that he had found her inadequate, and so would every man who ever came across her path. Elizabeth found herself somewhat afraid in a way. The idea of his waiting this out to get an annulment was bad enough, but him leaving her just after their wedding was worse.
"You can't," Elizabeth said, her voice shrill, tears beginning to form in her eyes as she began to lose control of her ability to reason.
"I can, and I will," Roukha replied placing several items of clothing in the bag rather meticulously.
"But, why?" she asked, her voice pleading. It was taking enough willpower on her part not to fall into hysterics, to begin crying.
Now he did turn, and the look on his face was one of disgust, but not with Elizabeth, but with himself, with something else, too. Elizabeth sniffed, brushing away idle tears that had managed to force their way past her guard. He looked at her, his eyes showing a mixed battle within himself. Then he appeared to slump forward into a slouch, a sign of defeat as one side of him won. Which side did, Elizabeth couldn't tell, but his eyes were guarded now, his thoughts hidden.
"Because," he started sounding as though he would continue, but clamped his jaw shut and looked at her for several long moments. The battle he had been fighting a moment before with himself appeared to flare up again, a look of resignation flashing across those crystal blues, and then he focused on her for a second before sighing and looking at the floor.
"Elizabeth," he said after a moment, bringing his head up. It was the first he had said her name. "I have to go. My brother, he wants this alliance, he's willing to kill for it, and more."
Realization struck her. His brother planned Roukha's death if he didn't consummate the marriage. But what could he do if he ran?
"So you are running, to keep yourself alive?" she asked, not knowing exactly how naïve she was to the situation.
"Yes," he said after a long drawn out period of time.
"Then take me with you!" she cried without thought.
Roukha looked at her, a look Elizabeth found disconcerting. It was full of the malevolent cruelty she had seen in him on their wedding day, the same ruthless coldness, and now it appeared to permeate the air around him, to shimmer in the light and give strange aura to him.
"No," he finally returned, the coldness within his eyes never leaving.
Elizabeth glared at him a moment. He was being stern, but he was also leaving something out, that she was sure. But what was it? Why would he keep secrets from her? What good would that do him, anyway? Finally, she spoke again, Roukha again sorting out his belongings and placing them within the confines of the bag next to him.
"You're not telling me something," she said, causing Roukha to stiffen visibly and Elizabeth smiled inwardly for deducing correctly. He didn't turn and went back to packing.
Fed up, Elizabeth threw back the covers of her bed, not caring if Roukha could see her body through the sheer fabric of the nightgown. She walked up behind him and said, "What are you keeping from me."
Startled, Roukha spun and stared down into the depths of Elizabeth's brown eyes. His face grew cold again, but Elizabeth fixed him with her own glare. It was a match, one to see who would break first. Elizabeth was happy to know it hadn't been her. Roukha sighed again, probably the nth time since walking in and beginning his packing.
"My brother plans to kill me," he said.
Elizabeth nodded, then queried with, "And what else does your 'beloved' brother wish to do?"
Roukha stared at her a moment, then said, "To rape you after he kills me."
Elizabeth was stunned to silence her eyes wide in horror and disgust. "A... what?" she began, then stopped, trying to place all her thoughts in order. "Why- why would he do such a thing?"
Roukha smiled this time, and Elizabeth found no warmth in it, only a distant empathy with his brother, as though he could read his mind already. "My brother," he began, "he wants this alliance. He plans some war. He is willing to have me killed and to rape you personally so that he can claim your child, if you became pregnant, is my bastard, which would allow him to keep the alliance. Otherwise, he looses the Dian Kaus and its holdings."
Roukha shrugged, and Elizabeth found she didn't like his nonchalance in the gesture. It was disgusting, and now she felt herself afraid. Afraid for this would-be husband, this deserter, for he would die, and for herself because now she was a victim in this feud.
Elizabeth turned her back to Roukha, doing so to hide the tears that she was sure were beginning to form in her eyes. Why had life so forsaken her?
"And you plan to leave me- leave me to him?"
Roukha was struck cold. He hadn't thought of it that way. Of course, he was more concerned with himself than he had been with her. To him, she was probably getting the better deal of it. At least she wasn't going to be killed, so why should she worry? "Yes," he finally said.
She whirled on him, slapping him across the face before he had time to register her movement. He raised his hand to his face, rubbing the sore spot that burned there where her hand had struck him.
"You little bastard! You're nothing but a coward!" she said, fire in her eyes and voice. "You're no better than your brother!"
She turned to walk away but found herself yanked back, and turned to face Roukha, a very angry look on his face. He held both her wrists tightly in his hands. A thought occurred to her. She could easily drop him to the floor with a strategically placed knee, but she decided against it. He was mad enough and making it worse would in turn make it worse for her.
"I am not like my brother," he said seething in his anger.
Elizabeth arched an eyebrow at that. "Oh, really? Then why not take me with you? Is this your idea of protecting me, your wife, from a man who might just commit murder?"
That one threw him off, and she was quite pleased with herself for saying it. He attempted to say something, but clamped his mouth shut several times, never saying a word. Whatever he wanted to say, he couldn't. Elizabeth got tired of waiting for him to answer. Why were men such confounded idiots?
"Why not take me with you?" she repeated soothingly, but Roukha shook his head adamantly.
"I can't. It'd be far too dangerous. It's already that way for me alone; if I took you, there'd be an even larger search."
"Then not leave at all!" she said, conviction in her voice. "You don't have to commit men to any campaigns of your brothers'. You will be king of the Dian Kaus, not he."
He shook his head. "I-." He fell silent.
"Stay here, with me, Roukha. We will be safe for a time, I am certain. Your brother will not attempt anything, and if we appear happy, he will leave us alone."
"At least for now, you mean. He isn't stupid, you know," Roukha returned frustration evident in his tone.
"But we will at least have peace for a time, right?"
"For a time, I should think."
"But when it becomes dangerous, and he does intend to move against you, and you go to leave, you will take me with you," Elizabeth said, and she meant it.
To Roukha, it would be dead weight he would have to deal with. A woman, a spoiled brat who knew nothing of taking care of herself, knew nothing of how things worked outside a palace, that there weren't servants waiting on you at every moment. To Elizabeth, it meant some sort of freedom in her future, or seeing the universe, and it was Roukha who became to dead weight, something that would slow her down.
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In the intervening month, Roukha and his wife Elizabeth did get along and gave an air of being at ease with one another. Aronha kept an eye on them as well as he could, but it wouldn't last long. Within the first week, Aronha had to return to his own empire and see to its needs, as well as the needs of his own wife, leaving Roukha and his wife alone. But Roukha was not stupid; he was well aware that his brother had paid off several servants to keep tabs on the newly weds and discover whether they had consummated their marriage.
After the first week, though, once Aronha had left with the newlyweds appearing to have learnt to love each other most humbly, the fighting started. Servants reported that they would yell at each other for extended periods of time, and that it really wasn't love, but a deep burning hatred between the two and that the only reason they stayed with each other was more for appearances.
Roukha began to secret himself away in an overly large hangar-like building, and each day he would receive packages of varying sizes and shapes. All were locked away within, and none of the servants could enter, so none knew what he was doing inside. Elizabeth on the other hand, kept herself locked away in her room mostly and wouldn't let a single servant disturb her.
Aronha, though, was becoming worried. He needed Roukha to consummate his marriage if he hadn't already, and needed the proof of such. He needed the Dian Kaus Empire, needed their soldiers more than ever for the campaign he was going to launch. In the back of his mind, he seethed with hatred for his half brother, that his brother was such a weak man who believed things should go his way. There was destiny in the making, and Roukha was shunning it! Aronha would have to deal with his brother soon, he was certain. He didn't like how the husband and wife were not being together. It was another problem he would have to solve.
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Elizabeth sat quietly in the chair overlooking the courtyard in her room. Except it wasn't just her room, it was also Roukha's. A book lay in her lap, and though she had been reading it, her mind had begun to wander, to stray from the pathway of story-devices in the novel. She locked herself away in the room, her hatred of Roukha growing stronger each day. He would ignore her when they were alone, and all her attempts to talk to him did nothing.
It was well after dinner, and it was dark outside with the loud patter of rain reverberating against the panes of windows surrounding her. Elizabeth sighed. It wouldn't be long before Roukha returned from whatever it was he was putting together in the confines of that building. He wouldn't tell anyone what he had going on in there and all traces of the parts he was bringing in said it was a vehicle of some sort.
Engine parts, weapons systems, manufacturing machines, and other things that Elizabeth couldn't identify. Whatever it was, it was huge, which made Elizabeth a little more than just curious to find out what it was.
The door creaked as it opened and Roukha entered, closing the door behind him.
He walked toward a chair placed against a wall and picked up the garments on it and slipped into the washroom, returning a few moments later dressed in them. He wandered toward the bed, pulled back the covers and slid in, the whole time not making a sound or every saying anything.
"I hate you," Elizabeth mumbled under her breath. It was what she said every night to him.
He didn't even look up.
Elizabeth gazed out the window at the rain as it fell, as it splashed against the ground and ran in currents down the window. It was as though the sky was crying for her, crying, as she wanted to cry.
"I'm sorry."
Elizabeth jumped upright in her chair from her slouching position and snapped her face toward the sound of the voice, her fingers grasping the armrests tightly as her heart thudded from the sudden start. Roukha stood there, his face looking sad, detached. She slapped him.
"Don't ever sneak up on me like that again," she said her voice angry.
"I'm sorry," he repeated, looking down while rubbing his not red face. His eyes came up and he leaned forward as though to kiss her.
Elizabeth pushed him away, anger burning in her eyes. "I don't want you," she said as coldly as she could, and deep down, she pained to have said it.
He looked down at her. "Elizabeth," he said sounding ashamed to even be talking, "I'm sorry. I-" He fell silent again, then plunged on. "I don't want to hurt you, not anymore."
"Hurt me?" she replied incredulously. "Hurt me?"
Before she could say anything further, he placed a finger gently on her lips. "I know I have," he said gently, pulling his hand away from her mouth. "I've asked some servants what you were like before we were wed. They said that you were active and full of life. What I see before me is a contrast, and I feel responsible, that I'm taking your life and destroying it. I don't want that."
"Or what you're saying is you don't want to feel responsible for destroying it."
"No, Elizabeth. I- I just want you to know that I do care for you, that I don't hate you."
She stared at him a moment, then turned to look back out the window. "How can you care? Why would you? Ever since the start of this you've been so-"
"Cold?" Roukha returned, taking Elizabeth's hand in his. "I'm sorry. It's just that my brother, I don't want him to hurt me, or even you. I'm sorry you got dragged into this feud. It wasn't my intention."
Elizabeth was silent, then looked at Roukha, tears brimming in the corners of her eyes. "Could you love me?"
Roukha leaned in and kissed her then, reveling in the exotic taste of her lips wondering why he hadn't done this long ago, why he hadn't thought of this long ago. As he drew back ever so slightly, his and Elizabeth's eyes met, and he whispered, "I do."
Elizabeth wrapped her arms around Roukha's neck, pulling him close, her eyes that had been brimming with tears fell now as she cried. Roukha wrapped his arms around her, lifting her from the chair. He would save her, because she deserved better, deserved a life that wasn't about to be threatened by his brother. While Aronha had arranged to have the Dian Kaus as a part of his army, Roukha would show his brother that this wouldn't be so. Roukha would fight in any way, and deny his brother everything. And Roukha took solace in his wife, and loved her as she should have been loved since the first day. And in his heart, he feared for her more than for himself. Roukha would stand in the way of everything for her now, would protect her because she deserved better.
Then, when Elizabeth was slipping off to sleep, her cheeks rosy and her face for once calm, Roukha vowed to love her the more with each day, to protect her, to be the husband that she deserved. And as he drifted to sleep, Roukha wondered for the nth time, what would Aronha think of all this?