Headed by a Snake

Ophelia of House Moonwell looked up, meeting the gaze of Prince Landris of the royal line of Wyndham.

--and she fiercely resisted the desire to throw her sword away and run into his embrace.

Her people were hurt. Some of them were dead.

The person responsible for arranging their affairs... was her.

She didn't want to deal with that on her own...

It was hard work. It was painful.

It was... just too much.

Ophelia didn't want those responsibilities. She wanted to shut herself in her room and cry.

She wanted... to be told what to do, like when she was still young, innocent, and stupid... She wanted to go back to those times, spoiled by her parents... doted on by her lover...

She didn't want to be the Arcanite Princess anymore...

"I go by Tarquin, now," Her husband shrugged. "And we were never exactly married, were we?"

"Wh... what?" Ophelia's jaw dropped.

She... couldn't believe what she was hearing.

She had longed to meet Landris again... in her waking dreams during the sun, and twice-more when the stars blanketed the sky.

She imagined... what he would say.

She had hoped to hear... 'I'm back' or... 'I missed you...'

Maybe even... 'I love you'... spoken exactly like he said it in the past.

But after so many years without contact... the first thing he did... was deny their relationship.

Landris took a waterskin off his belt and spilled it in front of him. The water did not fall to the floor, however... it floated in front of him, carried aloft by a strange magic.

Lifting his hand towards it, the water mana swirled together... and formed a pearlescent mana-sword.

Ophelia's eyes widened in shock. It was... a Lunar Blade? Yet it wasn't pulled from the tide.

Landris had... conjured it on his own?

And... it wasn't Elven magic. It was something else... something forbidden.

Ophelia struggled to swallow. Her throat had grown dry and painful...

"That is... the blessing of the Sword Dragon?"

"You know of her?" Landris chuckled, "I live only to praise her divine name... Erza Aerzin."

That sword... that beautiful, yet terrible sword... Landris arced it upwards. Mana trailed from the swing, shooting forward... and past her.

Ophelia snapped her head to the side, following the mana-crescent with her eyes.

Roxane was standing in the doorway behind her. Blood gushed from the sword wound, running diagonally from her collarbone to her abdomen.

"E... elia..."

"ROXANE!!!!" Ophelia screamed.

Immediately, she rushed to her dear friend's side-- but not fast enough to catch her. Roxane's breathing was ragged and blood spilled from her mouth.

"I'm... so... sorr..."

"No. No, no, no... don't speak," Ophelia cried. "LANDRIS!! What are you DOING?! Call for a healer!! Roxane's going to die!!"

Landris tilted his head sharply to the side, "Of course, she's going to die. This sword was gifted to me by my goddess. Miss Roxane's survival... would be blasphemy."

Ophelia took a deep breath. It felt like something inside of her broke.

She looked up with cold eyes.

Pale, ghostly arms were stretching down from the ceiling. Their hands brushed the faces of Ophelia's fallen kin. They took hold of their limbs... and began to pull and tug.

It was... a magical ⌈Domain⌋... something only an Adamantine-Rank was capable of.

And its purpose... was to empower the same heretical Dragon Magic he'd displayed earlier.

Ophelia... could no longer deny the facts in front of her.

Landris... her husband... had made a pact with a being beyond the ken of both humans and elves.

He had become a Warlock.

And his patron... was one of the dragon gods.

Dragons don't exist. Worshipping them... was forbidden.

That Landris enslaved himself to their kind... was an insult to everything her bloodline stood for.

Ophelia squeezed tears out of her eyes as she asked the question she did not want answered.

"Who... are you?"

"I'm exactly who you think I am," Came the heartless response, "It was a pain being Landris Wyndham. So now... I'm just Tarquin Wroe."

No... no...

Ophelia pressed her forehead against Roxane's bloody chest. The Sapling's heart had stopped beating.

What had happened to her sweet, naive husband? What had happened to her childhood friend, sworn to protect her? Where was the boy who loved her with all his heart?

Was this the true Landris Wyndham? Who was this Tarquin Wroe, so willing to murder her family without remorse... so eager to sing praise to evil gods?

How many lies had he fed her over the years?

...How long did she fool herself into thinking humans could be trusted?

"No," Ophelia cried... "My fiancee would never do this. He was a student of the sword... he was strong... he was just and heroic."

And... the Landris she knew would never do anything to hurt her...

She turned her head up, rage swallowing up her sadness, "You are an ABOMINATION!! Servants of the dragon gods deserve only DEATH!!"

"Ehhh?" Landris slowly spun his sword in his hand. He was no longer smiling... "So you're trying to say... that the guy that's supposed to be your husband... should just kill himself?"

"You..." Ophelia sniffed... "you are not my husband."

"Well, whatever," Landris smirked. "I did die... or I guess your husband did. And now that I've been reborn, our previous contract no longer applies."

"I see," Ophelia laughed derisively. "My husband is dead. Then... whoever you are, you're not welcome here."

"That girl was trying to kill you," Landris frowned.

"Her NAME... was Roxane."

Ophelia embraced her friend's body tightly... wishing she had done so more often when she was alive.

The warmth from Roxane's body was leaving her too quickly...

Landris cleared his throat, "The reason I came today--"

"Please leave..." Ophelia whispered... "unless you're here to kill me, too."

"But I didn't..."

"Make it quick... I won't stop you."

'I can't live without you'-- she wanted to say... but those words, she buried deep inside her broken heart.

Landris grew quiet... then he groaned like he was annoyed.

The blue mana glow left his eyes. Light returned to the hallway. The ghostly hands disappeared like they were never there.

Roxane remained dead in Ophelia's arms.

"I'm going," Landris spun on his heel and walked away. "Don't look for me."