#s/o to my dad who ltierally ran to canadian tire to pick it up during the sale

[locria-writes]

Stabbing Vezian doesn't end well for Mc? I just want to do it more now. Especially if you mean Vezian survives and Mc becomes nothing more than his locked up plaything. Because yes she tried to kill him but she's hot. (I assume if she did try to kill him it would be a legitimate reason for him to end the marriage but still keep the power? so he keeps her around just for sexytimes!)

Vezian fills my love of trashy dub con the most out of all your trashmen!

i couldn’t resist okay this was calling me (also dw this is not exactly how the scene will play out in game. it’s really only close to what a belligerent combat-oriented mc might do bc honestly sis deserves to go feral)

also uh, threat of murder, maybe some threat of suicide and implied dub?non?con

You never let your gaze leave Vezian once he enters the bedchambers.

Every fibre of your being trembles with indignant rage -- the humiliation of this whole farce, this ridiculous charade of a besotted fool he’s put on, and everything in between. There’s nothing you’d like more than to see him choke on his own blood.

He’s been careful, but not as careful as he fancies himself. He only gave a cursory sweep of your many boxes of jewels, and while you know not whether it was through negligence or ignorance, the hair-daggers Second Brother gifted you were left in your possession. They’re quite beautiful, all delicately carved gold with numerous precious stones deflecting from their sharp tips.

It’s the same mistake he made all those years ago, you idly muse. Back then, he didn’t expect for such a frail-looking girl to pull out a knife and start swinging at him, screaming curses and wishing death.

While you’re certain Second Brother, your dear mentor, would decry your plan as reckless folly, it’s the simplest, and most direct solution -- you will make sure that Vezian won’t leave these chambers alive, and neither will you. A murder-suicide, a less than honourable death, and far less glamourous than you were hoping for, but it’s the only way you’ll find peace. Even if it fails, at least you’ll die trying. After all, who would trust a man who killed his unwilling bride on their wedding night? He’ll be dethroned, and while you aren’t sure who can succeed him afterward, the Divine Patriarch has given you his promise that he’ll oversee the fallout, but his words are cheap.

Vezian smiles disarmingly, but you’ll never not be on edge near him. His gaze drops to your chest. “It’s a shame Essenian girls don’t wear such cuts. What’s the point of hiding one’s bosom as the nuns do?”

You bite your tongue, holding back the verbal lashing you so sorely wish to give him, the shouts of his perversion and degeneracy. He doesn’t particularly care though, as he moves closer and leans down to trace your collarbone.

He doesn’t see you reach for one of your hairpins. He’s too engrossed in making bawdy comments about your body to notice the glint of a sharpened tip.

But he’s a seasoned fighter, and as soon as you nick his neck, his hand is gripping the blade, easily matching your strength even while bleeding. “You fucking bitch....”

He’s heavier than you, stronger than you, but lacks the agility your small frame gives you. It’s easy to twist away from him, letting go of your first hairpin. It’s fine, you never intended for that to be the killing strike anyway.

You grab another pin, and seeing as he’s facing away from you, you swing down onto the base of his skull.

Vezian whirls around, eyes full of disgust as he knocks the pin out of your hand. He tightly grips your wrist, and for a moment, you’re afraid he might break it.

Still, you have another hand.. You grab your last one, and his eyes narrow, probably thinking that you’ll have another swing at him. He’s wrong, like he always is. You press the tip against the side of your neck, pushing just hard enough to break the skin as a silent threat.

He’s nervous now, you note with delight. The hostility drops from his voice. “Threatening suicide now? How base.”

You keep silent, pressing a bit harder. You don’t know if it’s actually sharp enough, and you aren’t eager to find out otherwise, but there’s nothing else you can do now.

He looks at you with the same wariness one does at a cornered animal, and slowly approaches you.

You stumble back, finally feeling fear creep down your spine. You’re still the same little girl from six years ago, trembling through her bravado as she threatens death on her wedding night.

Vezian looks a little like him, you think, but maybe it’s a trick of the dim candlelight. You remember the traces of cruelty that sometimes filled his eyes, the sheer indifference, and suddenly they’re not so different. The same, a little different, like a cruel joke of a reflection.

Your grip slackens a bit, and he takes that as his chance to grab both your wrists, and drag you back to the bed. He’s cursing you the entire time, calling you derogatory names, but you’re numb to it all.

He tears off your clothes, ignoring your occasional gasps of pain, and uses the to immobilize you. He looms over you, a loathsome smirk on his lips. “We could have had a lovely night, dearest, but you’ve really pissed me off now.”

His eyes are almost the same colour...pale with the barest trace of clear skies, but just a touch colder.