The Tale of Two Worlds

Cordigally invited

He woke with a start, sitting bolt up right in bed and looking around before looking out the window. It was storming. The rain. The rain had brought the nightmares flooding back with stark clarity. He ran a hand through his long blond hair, a sign of rebellion in his country where all the men kept their hair no longer than the tops of his ears. Dante did compromise however, he usually kept it pulled back in a tight queue at the nape of his neck or in a bun in the same place.

The Lord of the Northern Region looked over the side of the bed where he often kept several bottles of brandy at hand. He didn't use to be such a hard drinker, but, after his son's and wife's death - he was drunk daily and often all day. It kept his mind quieted and his sanity in check, that's what he would tell anyone that bothered him about the habit.

With a slight groan, he swung his legs over the side of the large, mussed, bed. The room was dark with the heavy cobalt blue and silver curtains, a small sliver of the clouded light streaming in from a gap between the curtains to just barely lighten half of the Lord's face. If this room was at it's top condition, one would be able to see the impossibly intricate woodcarvings on the posts of the bed of fairies and other magical creatures. Over the bed is a painting of a man who looked like a greek god both in physique and demeanor, and next to him, his goddess who's body looked so delicate the simplest breeze could blow her away. However, she seemed to have a certain fire in her eyes, it wasn't a fire of fight, but the fire of life.

In the painting, the couple both wore blue and silver. Him in a blue brocade vest and a silver long sleeve shirt that made his bright blue eyes stand out until they seemed to boring into your soul. As was his usual, he had his hair tied back in a tight ponytail at the nape of his neck, a whisp having escaped that ribbon and hanging delicately across his forehead.

She wore a velvet dress that would have been mistaken for black had the artist of the painting not painted in a few sun streaks that uncovered the true, saturated, blue of the dress. The ensemble had a square neckline than stopped high above the woman's cleavage and down the center of the dress was the same brocade pattern her husband wore, black on silver. The sleeves went down to her wrists, bits of a silver shirt peeking out of long holes up her arms. Around her neck was a  diamond necklace that seemed to accentuate the delicateness of the woman that wore it. Like frozen tears, matching diamond earrings dangled almost the length of her neck that was shown off by the fact her dark chocolate hair was pulled up in a kind of twisted bun.

Now, however, the vibrant colors of the painting were dulled from dust, as were many of the intricate paintings and furniture pieces in the room. Many a servant had tried to come and dust only to be met by yelling and a bottle being thrown at them. Eventually, they learned to avoid the room unless the Master of the house was gone for an extended period of time, which hardly happened at all these days.

Dante looked down at the hand on his bare knee, there was a simple gold band that he had never taken off, probably never would. Slowly, he started spinning it, staring blankly at the gap in the curtains as though he could see his whole future through it. In truth, he was thinking about his past:

"Baby," Came sleepy words that had a hint of some foreign accent from the delicate form wrapped in the silk sheets next to him "The sun has not even risen yet, come back to bed." Dante smiled over his shoulder at her, all the love in the world in his eyes "I was going to draw you a bath, all by myself, with your favorite oils." He rolled back into bed and onto his stomach, a muscular arm draped just under her breasts. The woman stretched languidly, showing off her large baby bump "Well, that does sound nice, but you know what sounds better?" Dante opened one eye to look at his lovely wife "Early morning sex then breakfast in bed followed by a stroll in the gardens then a warm bath?" He rolled to his back and stretched his arms over his head, Sonja moving to straddle his lap with a bright smile "You know me so well, my lovely husband." She combed stray strands of hair away from his forehead as she leaned down to give him a lazy kiss.

Tears, slowly falling down his face are what brought Dante back to reality. He sniffed and wiped his eyes before blindly grabbing a half full bottle and tossing it back. When he brought his head back into place, his blue eyes were hard and unfeeling.

As the Lord was finishing his bottle, the stone of his castle rung with the sound of impact. As guards and servants scrambled to the gate, he simply sat at the edge of his bed, unclothed and eyes closed. He had long since barred his gates against any visitors and a closed gate and a stern voice of a guard was enough to deter anyone. Now however, someone pounded at the gate as though they wished to lay siege to the castle. Let them come he thought numbly, maybe they would end his miserable life and he could be reunited with his Sonja and son.

"Best get ready for guests." He said with a voice that was rough from lack of use. Slowly, Dante stood and grabbed a robe off a hook, he brushed a hand through his messy hair. The castle rumbled with another blow as Dante, with bottle in hand, ambled out into the hall. A shout, a scream, the click of heels.

"Dante!" A voice so familiar that it made the Lord's heart hurt. He tossed back his brandy but didn't answer. The clicking heels stopped just behind him as a breeze brought a scent to him that made his heart twist ever more painfully. "The gate is closed for a reason." Dante said dryly as he turned to face the woman "It means I do not want guests."

The woman before him had the same creamy carmel skin tone as his Sonja, same dark hair that seemed to whip around in a mixture of the breeze and the woman's fury. She wore what was traditional of the women in Dante's country except the colors were that of jewels, a nod to her home country. Her dark eyes shot daggers at the dilapidated man before her "You have been hiding away from the world for nearly six years. It is time to come out."

"And if I do not want to?" Dante quirked a questioning brow.

"Then I'll have to make you." She said matter-of-factly.

"You are in my country, in my home. You do not order me around, Serenity." He took another swig from his bottle.

"Sonja would not want this." Serenity whispered almost pleadingly.

Dante turned away from the trespasser, he didn't need this, he didn't need her.