Vengeance Through Passion

Music Recommendation: Love Story by Indila.

***

Once upon a time, the clouds darkened black...

***

It was a night like no other—black clouds smothered the sky, so thick that not a single star could pierce through. The trees outside shuddered, their branches swaying in an almost eerie, synchronized dance as the wind howled through their leaves. The air was biting cold, chilling to the bone, and the sky, ominous and void of life, loomed over the land like a smothering blanket. Not a single movement disturbed the stillness, save for the faint, ghostly light of the moon casting a silver sheen on the ground. The world seemed frozen, lifeless, and Aricia felt just as stagnant as the night itself, sitting by her window with her thoughts far away.

"Men do not comprehend why a woman can have a man as a friend," Martha’s voice was soft but filled the silence as she lifted the heavy, velvet curtains, revealing a breathtaking view of the sunset—a sky ablaze with shades of crimson and gold that stood in stark contrast to the dark clouds overhead. "Because they do not understand that a woman would rather have a man friend who secretly loves her than a lady friend who secretly despises her."

Little Aricia looked up from her book, her brow furrowing in thought. She lay sprawled out on her belly, legs raised behind her and heels tapping against each other in a rhythm only she knew. The book was old, its pages yellowed and worn from years of use.

"That is preposterous," Aricia declared, flipping a page with an exaggerated huff. "You either love someone or you don’t. Having a man friend is Absolutely. Unacceptable."

Martha, accustomed to the princess’s spirited retorts, simply quirked an eyebrow, her expression neutral. Aricia’s declarations were often loud but rarely followed by action. Martha ignored the comment and without saying another word, she moved toward the adjoining bath chamber, where she began filling the large copper tub with steaming, scented water. The scent of lavender and jasmine filled the air, mingling with the cool breeze that blew in from the open window.

"You must have your bath now, M'lady," Martha’s voice floated back into the room, calm yet commanding, as she tended to the bath.

"But I still don’t understand," Aricia muttered under her breath, propping herself up on her elbows, the last few pages of her book slipping from her grasp.

"You’ll understand more when you’re older," Martha replied, her tone betraying no emotion. "But now, you must hurry. It’s getting late."

With a resigned sigh, Aricia flipped through her book, realizing there were only a few pages left anyway. The unease in her chest, a creeping tension she couldn’t quite name, grew stronger. Today was important. Everyone had told her so. Her marriage engagement was to be announced in the grand hall, before an audience of Kings, noble warriors, and men from the most prestigious families. The whole kingdom was invested in this union, a powerful alliance that would shape the future. Yet to her, it felt like little more than a performance—a spectacle where she was to play the role of the perfect little princess, dressed in silks and jewels, her opinions as invisible as the stars on this cloud-covered night.

After all, she was only eleven. What did she know about marriage?

Her mother had told her time and time again that this was for the good of both kingdoms, and for now, that was reason enough. Still, a dark shadow lingered at the edges of her thoughts, whispering of a deeper, unspoken truth.

Whatever the case, she was ready.

It's not like she was settling in with the groom yet, it was just an engagement ceremony. It would be a breeze.

She consoled herself.

Martha’s voice sliced through her contemplation like a knife. "It’s time, M'lady. You’re expected at midnight for a meeting with the King and Queen."

"Huh? Oh—yes, I’m coming!" Aricia called out as she snapped her book shut.

***

As Martha carefully laid out the gloves from an ornate drawer, Aricia stood before the tall mirror, staring at her reflection with a strange mixture of curiosity and disdain. Her emerald eyes glimmered under the dim light of the chamber, their piercing brightness in stark contrast to her dark, loose curls. Her reflection seemed almost foreign, as if she were looking at a stranger. She could feel the weight of the moment pressing on her small shoulders, a weight far heavier than the gown she was about to wear.

Aricia was struggling to erase the unsettling feeling she had while Martha laid out the gloves.

It was fat and it was green.

"Do you mean, that I would have to wear this. People would be suspicious, no?"

Martha nodded simply.

"You know, for someone as young as you are. You speak quite well. It's bothersome. After marriage, you'll have to bow down to your husband's every command."

Little Aricia had already stopped listening halfway through Martha's speech. She stared deep at her reflection, her emerald eyes piercing through the abyss as her thoughts drifted into one of concern.

'Surely, they must've been mistaken.'

She thought deeply.

'Why would a Kingdom as well off as theirs need to grow even stronger. Was it power greed or a payment for some debt. Strange. What was even stranger is that they would want someone as.. disabled as I am.'

She had a special condition.

Well, she wouldn't call it special if it caused her occasional trouble. She had always felt different, an outcast even within her own family. Her strange condition—an affliction that no healer or mage in the whole of Athame could explain—set her apart.

Due to this very reason, her parents, had kept her hidden from the world for as long as she could remember. Confined to her chambers, her only companions were books and the occasional, fleeting conversation with Martha.

Aricia became a very curious child and curiosity only made her exceptionally intelligent but not as the world would define it.

What was the cause of her condition? How and why rainbows are formed?

All of it,

A heavy sigh escaped Aricia’s lips as she took the gloves from Martha’s hands. She slipped them on. Her eyes lingered on her hands, as the hideous looking gloves taunted her.

The weight of her gown, embroidered with intricate emerald patterns and heavy with pearls, made her feel small and insignificant. It swirled around her feet like a river of green silk, each step threatening to trip her up. Aricia tugged at the hem, trying to adjust it, but it was no use. It was simply too large.

"Isn’t it too... heavy? This is ridiculous." she asked, her voice barely above a whisper as she gazed at her reflection.

She struggled to breathe properly as she tugged at the gown four times her size, spreading it across the ground as it swallowed her tiny frame.

"It was especially picked by your soon to be in-laws. Refusal to wear it could end the alliance and even result in war."

Martha replied.

'That, isn't totally impossible now, is it?'

It took a while but Aricia realized it was well thought out joke which made her chuckle, her tender voice echoing like a tune.

As she studied herself more carefully in the mirror, her eyes darkened. Her hands moved to her face, dabbing powder aggressively over her freckles.

"Slowly now, Aricia." Martha called out.

"Yes, yes, Martha dear. Must I not hide all imperfections? Who knows, a war might break out if a freckle is spotted."

Martha’s stoic façade softened for a brief moment as she let out a faint chuckle. Aricia, satisfied with the reaction, smirked, but her mischievous smile faded as quickly as it had appeared as the clock struck midnight.

'The time is now.'

***

The grand halls of the palace were lined with tapestries and shimmering candlelight, casting long shadows as Aricia made her way toward the court. Her dress trailed behind her, a cascade of emerald and gold. The scent of rare oils—fragrant with jasmine and rose—clung to her skin. Pearls and jewels adorned her neck, each one a relic of her family’s ancient lineage. Her hair, carefully braided and decorated with pins, felt heavy, like a crown of thorns.

As she approached the court, her heart pounded in her chest. She hadn’t seen the groom, didn’t even know his name. All she knew was that her future had been decided long before she was even born. With each step, the weight of her fate pressed down on her, threatening to crush her under its enormity.

But she had to keep walking.

'Just a little longer, Aricia. It will soon be over.'

Her knees wobbled, and the ground seemed to sway beneath her feet. She gripped the sides of her dress, her fingers trembling as she struggled to stay upright.

"No, not yet," she whispered, her voice barely audible as she fought to steady herself.

But her legs gave out, and with a soft, inaudible gasp, she fell.

As Aricia's knees gave way, her oversized gloves slid off her delicate hands, tumbling across the stone floor with a muted thud. The world around her felt heavy, as if time itself slowed in that single moment. Desperately, she reached out to retrieve them, her fingers trembling, but as her hand hovered above the fabric, her gaze caught something far more horrifying.

Her breath hitched, and her body went cold.

In the distance, beyond the grandeur of the hall and the sea of guests, Aricia’s wide eyes fell upon the unthinkable: her family—her father, the king, her mother, and her younger siblings—all being slaughtered with ruthless efficiency.

Each one cut down as though they were nothing more than pawns in a cruel game. Their cries of pain and confusion were barely audible over the thunderous commotion that broke out, and yet to her, they echoed like an endless nightmare.

"No... no, no, no..." Her voice was a mere whisper, stuck in her throat as terror paralyzed her.

Her heart pounded in her chest, her head spinning as the world tore itself apart in a violent frenzy. The grand hall, once a symbol of power and elegance, was now awash with chaos, the walls shaking from the intensity of battle, tables overturned, and screams filling the air.

Suddenly, amidst the blur of figures running, fighting, and falling, a shadow loomed.

A tall, indistinct figure—neither friend nor foe—emerged from the chaos, moving toward her. Aricia's breath quickened as the figure approached, its outline growing more menacing with each step. It extended a hand, shrouded in darkness, fingers stretching out towards her.

The last words she heard was the cracked voice of her dying mother who had stretched her bloody hands in an attempt to hold her. She looked like she had a lot to say but she only muttered:

"Usque ad mortem nos partem."

Her mother whispered before drawing her last breath.

"No!" Her voice caught in her throat as she tried to back away, but her legs refused to obey, her entire body frozen in place.

The figure grabbed her hand, cold and forceful.

A pair a gray eyes and a tint of blue, that was all Little Aricia could make out and in that singular touch, her entire world collapsed into darkness.

•••

When Aricia opened her eyes, everything felt wrong. Her limbs were heavy, her body drained as though she had been asleep for an eternity. She was moving—no, she was being carried. Hauled through some dimly lit corridor.

Her head throbbed, the memory of what had just transpired flooding back in agonizing clarity. The screams. The blood. Her family…

"Mama..." she whispered, her voice weak, barely audible.

"Mama!" she cried out again, her trembling hand reaching for someone—anyone—but finding only emptiness.

"Everybody..."

Her heart ached with an unbearable weight, tears spilling down her cheeks. She blinked through the haze of confusion, slowly realizing she was no longer alone.

Martha.

The familiar face of her nursemaid appeared through the blur. Martha’s usually stoic expression had cracked, revealing something softer, something more vulnerable. She gently placed Aricia down on the cold ground, leaning in close, her arms wrapping around the child in an attempt to soothe her.

"Are you alright, My Lady?" Martha’s voice was shaky, her hands trembling as she patted Aricia’s hair, the comforting gesture hollow in the midst of such devastation.

Aricia didn’t respond at first. She couldn’t. Her chest heaved with the weight of what she had witnessed, the truth of her family's fate pressing down on her like an anvil.

Tears streamed down her face, her throat dry and raw from unspoken grief. She clung to Martha, but it wasn’t enough. Nothing would be enough.

“Mama...” she choked out again, but there was no answer. There would never be an answer. Not from her mother. Not from her father. Not from her siblings.

They were gone. All of them. In a single, bloody night.

Martha continued to hold her, whispering soft words of comfort, but Aricia wasn’t listening. She couldn’t hear the words. All she could hear was the echo of her family’s screams, the relentless thudding of her heart, and the chaos still unfolding in the distance.

Suddenly, a flicker of heat sparked within her. It started small, almost imperceptible. But it grew rapidly, rising from the pit of her stomach, spreading through her veins like wildfire. It was as if something deep inside her had snapped, something primal, something unstoppable.

Her tears dried, her sobs ceased. Her trembling stilled, replaced by an unsettling calm. Slowly, she pulled back from Martha’s embrace, wiping her tear-streaked face with the back of her hand.

Her emerald eyes, once filled with innocence, now glowed with something else entirely—something darker. The crimson hue that now radiated from her gaze was like embers of a fire, barely restrained, ready to ignite.

"This... this is just the beginning." she whispered, her voice low and steady, yet laced with a quiet, burning rage.

Martha’s eyes widened in fear as she took in the sight before her. Aricia rose to her feet, the weight of her grief replaced by the intensity of her resolve.

"I don't know when or how. But I say still, I will rain darkness upon them all and till that day comes I won't rest."

She declared.

Martha’s mouth opened, but no words came out. She could only stare, frozen, as the young girl before her, broken by loss.

And in that moment, Aricia's path was set.