Ophelia wasn't the most beautiful woman in the Realm...
She wasn't soft.
She wasn't even cute.
She was a Princess... but she didn't give off the aura of a damsel needing to be saved from a winged lizard.
A typical Princess... one of King Adal's children, perhaps-- or the inbred nobility of the Sleeping Country... they were fragile flowers, better seen than heard.
Those Princesses, they were protected... by their suitors and husbands, by their armies of their fathers and brothers...
Ophelia... should have had her Arcanite Prince by her side.
She did not.
For her to survive on her own... she had to grow thorns.
And so she took on the persona of a self-sufficient Warrior Princess.
She trained in the Blade Dance... She developed her own style of magic, rooted in druidic knowledge and the secrets of the winds.
She allied herself with the wealthy and the strong.
She enforced the laws of Whitehearth and the Eastern States to protect those that could benefit her.
As a leader... as a noble... she was supposed to protect the people of her City-State.
Far too often... other priorities took precedence.
She needed to protect herself before others-- that was her rationalization.
That... was how she became cruel.
Once upon a time, her cruelty was part of her mask as a pretender.
But she'd held onto that image for so long... that she wasn't sure if she still knew how to be herself.
...So many years ago, she was just a little girl that wanted to play with the boys.
She could have joined Sol Invictus if she wanted to.
Quies would have welcomed her with open arms.
...That coward, Tycon, wouldn't dream of rejecting her.
O' Sol Invictus... The greatest gladiator guild in written history.
...And the elusive refuge where her husband hid.
But if she did that... what kind of face would Landris have shown her?
...He always looked so sad whenever Ophelia brought up the marriage contract.
She always figured... it was because it reminded him of his murdered parents.
Since she was young, she kept a foolish hope... that she could love him in their place.
She'd do anything to see him smile...
But... maybe it was impossible, to begin with.
Every time Landris looked at her, did he recall those painful memories?
Was that the reason he left? Because her presence was unbearable?
Ophelia laughed bitterly to herself.
The thoughts were so depressing that she wanted to cry.
Crying... was not something the Arcanite Princess was capable of.
A woman cried in front of Tycondrius of Charm, once... but that was not the Arcanite Princess. It was a lonely Elia Moonwell-- a sad girl whose boyfriend abandoned her, never once looking back.
...At the time, they were talking about Landris.
Ophelia touched the engagement ring on her left hand.
Engraved on its inside was... [Till Death Do Us Part.]
It was physical proof of their contract.
Even if Landris was unfaithful... even if he loathed the very sight of her... Ophelia had made an oath.
With the heavens as her witness, she would love him until the end of suns.
Elves are a stubborn lot.
Or rather-- Tycon had corrected her on that.
Women are a stubborn lot.
Ophelia turned her attention to the double doors at the end of her office. She had sensed a person's presence, waiting beyond.
Furrowing her brows, she looked over to the artifice clock on her desk. It was well past lunchtime... so it was probably Roxane coming to scold her.
Ophelia sat up, roughly wiping her face. She has a personal rule to never let her subordinates see her cry-- even though Roxane was more like a younger sister than a personal assistant.
"Come on i--"
Both doors flew open, slamming against the walls with two loud cracks.
Roxane stood in the doorway, the hallway beyond dimly lit.
Ophelia always loved Roxane's hair... short, flowing, and silvery. Her own green hair drew too much attention, vibrant, flowery... and requiring de-thorning, twice a moon.
Roxane had soft and gentle features, from her chubby cheeks, her bubbly voice, and her kind eyes.
Ophelia could make children cry with a glance.
But... the Roxane in front of her had a different look.
That smile that Ophelia loved so much... it was missing.
pαпᵈα-noνɐ1·сoМ And her eyes, they seemed to be... glazed over, looking far away...
Was something wrong with the fluorescent moss in the hall? From how dark it looked, nearly all of it had been torn down?
That guards... they hadn't reported anything peculiar?
Ophelia stood up, her chair falling to the floor, "Roxy, why is--"
...Why was there blood on her face?
"H... how many years..."
"Roxane," Ophelia raised her voice. She did not like the look on her dear friend's face.
But... the Arcanite Princess was not afraid...
"Roxy," She said... "Stand. Down... before you do... or say something you regret."
Roxane sniffed before shaking her head violently.
"hooOWW... many YEARS have you IGNORED my LOVE, ELIA?!?!"
Ophelia slammed her palms on her desk, a surge of mana flowing outward. By her own hands, she'd pulverized stacks of both research notes and city documents... but that didn't matter.
"(Silence, Sapling!) I have no use for thy feelings *nor* thy insolence. I have a husband."
"P-prince... L... LandrissSSS is GONE!!" Roxane yelled, "you... you. Have. Me."
Roxane. Iron-Rank Grappler. She had served by Ophelia's side faithfully since before Landris left Whitehearth.
Ophelia never allowed her close to her heart... even though the sapling made it painfully obvious her interest wasn't entirely professional.
It was yet another problem Ophelia ignored. She hoped Roxane would move past her one-sided feelings. She hoped the child would grow up.
Contracts shouldn't be broken just because they're inconvenient.
Roxane shot her left arm forward, brandishing the Khorium Protector attached to her forearm. Activating the artifice, mana-armor clad both of her arms, ending in oversized gauntlets sheathing her fists.
The defensive mana-weapon was something she and Roxane designed together. Its destructive power along with Roxane's unique fighting style allowed her to fight evenly with a Gold-Rank Martial class like herself.
That she activated it in front of Ophelia... was the second greatest betrayal of faith in her life.
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