Chapter 3.5: Horrible night

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"Dear brother Ralph, what are you doing?"

"Oh, Aurianna. Your sweetness remains unparalleled," he purred, his tone slick as he moved closer. He grabbed her, and she struggled.

Overwhelmed with shock, Aurianna's tear-streaked face became a canvas of silent pleas. Her voice trembled as she implored, "Brother... Please... s-stop..."

She desperately tried to push him away, but he effortlessly regained his position atop her, overwhelming her with his physical dominance. Despite her training, her skills in hand-to-hand combat were limited.

In contrast, her siblings had received extensive swordsmanship instruction, an essential part of their upbringing as princes and princesses of the country. The royal family bore the responsibility of safeguarding not only their lives but also the kingdom's future.

Ralph callously disregarded Aurianna's pleas, his expression twisted with a fiery mix of desire and sadism. "Even in your tears, you manage to exude a certain charm," he slurred, a depraved smile stretching across his face, provoking nothing but revulsion within Aurianna.

The noxious odor of Ralph's breath, tainted by the sickening scent of stagnant alcohol, enveloped Aurianna's senses as he leaned in for another unwelcome advance, his lips grazing her neck.

A wave of fear coursed through Aurianna's trembling form as her fear intensified. Deep within, she knew she couldn't let her brother continue this heinous act. It defied every moral and ethical boundary.

With mounting desperation, she cried out for help, her voice echoing through the chambers, hoping that the guards stationed just beyond her door would rush to her aid. But to her dismay, her pleas fell on deaf ears.

Through the cracked door, she glimpsed a guard holding a golden pouch. The guards were feigning ignorance, having been bought off. That realization washed over Aurianna.

Though despair briefly gripped her, Aurianna refused to give in. She continued to struggle, pushing and scratching at Ralph's back. But he seemed unbothered, his demented smile deepening. He loved to see them struggle.

Despite Aurianna's valiant efforts to resist, Ralph's strength overpowered her as he forcefully removed her clothing. He sought only to satiate his lust.

A chilling realization washed over her as Ralph continued his deplorable actions. Consumed by terror, Aurianna released a piercing scream that echoed through the room. Yet her pleas for her brother to stop went unheard, falling upon deaf ears. "Brother, I beg you, please stop! We are family! Don't do this!"

In a hushed tone, he whispered into her ear, "Just calm down. It will all be over soon..."

Throughout that horrible night, the anguished cries from the Saintess' quarters reached the ears of unfortunate passersby. The torment persisted deep into the night, the echoes of her screams lingering well into the early hours of the morning until the prince's insatiable desires were finally sated.

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Aurianna had been awake the entire time. Her face was a dried well of tears, her eyes filled with despair. She simply lay in her bed for a while, staring up at the ceiling. The events of the night replayed in her mind, the sensations, everything felt wrong.

Slowly, when the sun was well up in the sky, she finally slipped out of bed. She stood in silence. Turning, Aurianna looked at herself in the mirror. Her nightgown appeared in fine condition, but the bruises on her face and body told the true story. Seeing herself, realizing she was no longer pure, she felt like weeping again. But she didn't.

Instead, she bathed and redressed herself. A subtle rage gleamed in her gaze. It wasn't enough to blacken her soul, but a burning desire for justice ignited in her heart.

She regretted ever knowing Ralph, regretted giving him the benefit of the doubt, believing he was the same boy she had once known. The stench of alcohol had clung to him as he violated her, but it didn't justify anything.

He had still done what he did. And so, with every step she took as she exited her room, she was resolute. She promptly sought an audience with the King, intent on revealing the heinous actions committed by someone meant to be her own flesh and blood.

"Aurianna, how can you make such accusations against your own brother?" The King looked appalled, disbelief etched onto every feature of his face. "This cannot be! You must have had a nightmare!"

Aurianna stood there, speechless. How could her own father fail to trust her, deny the reality she had endured? She remembered every moment—the invasion of every part of her being. The weight of his skepticism crushed her spirit, but she clenched her fists, resolved to stand tall.

"No, Father. I am not lying about these events." Her voice quivered, but she was resolute. "I know with absolute certainty what happened last night. I implore you to hear me and acknowledge the truth."

The King regarded Aurianna with a mix of pity and concern, his voice tinged with dismissiveness. "Aurianna… please, reflect on what you've shared with me. You claim that Ralph violated you and committed such a heinous act, while the guards stationed to protect you—some of the finest knights in our realm—failed to intervene."

"They were paid off!" Aurianna replied, anger rising in her gut. It was a new, unfamiliar feeling.

"Nonsense! A knight of this Kingdom would never stoop so low as to accept a bribe, especially the guard assigned to you personally! You must have dreamt such a thing."

His words pierced Aurianna's already wounded heart. Doubt began to creep in. Was it possible? Was it really all a dream?

Seeing Aurianna's determination waver, Girsal continued. "You must remember. Due to the healing magic, there are often unforeseen side effects. Search your feelings; you know it's possible. Ralph would never do such a thing, especially to his sister!"

"But…"

Aurianna's protests were swiftly quelled by her father's unwavering stance. "No buts. I refuse to entertain any further discussion on this matter. You were undoubtedly tired that day, having expended your energy healing countless wounded soldiers. It is only natural that such physical strain and weariness would manifest in distressing dreams."

Rising from his seat, Girsal walked toward her and placed a consoling hand on Aurianna's shoulder. "It is disheartening to witness how the burdens of your saintly duties may be taking a toll on you, my dear. However, rest assured that what you experienced was nothing more than a vivid dream."

Hearing his words just made her bite her lips in frustration.

But just as Aurianna began to entertain her father's explanations, the searing pain from the previous night surged through her thoughts, dispelling any flicker of doubt. The vividness of the experience felt too real to dismiss entirely, and thinking about it made her sick.

Sensing the lingering doubt in Aurianna's eyes, the King persisted, his voice tinged with concern and uncertainty. "It is possible that your extraordinary powers are exerting some form of influence upon you. I have heard tales of Saintesses who bear the weight of others' suffering, even in their dreams. I confess, I was skeptical, but now..."

Momentarily averting his gaze, Girsal's attention shifted toward one of the statues of Paige that adorned the throne room. A slight crease formed on his forehead, hinting at a faint headache that seemed to plague him. With a heavy sigh, he continued, his words laced with paternal protectiveness.

"All these healing trips are clearly taking a toll on you, my daughter. As your father, I cannot stand idly by and witness your distress. Perhaps it would be best if you refrained from engaging in further healing activities. It seems evident that the process is proving traumatizing and giving rise to unsettling dreams. Aurianna, I implore you to cease your healing duties. We shall rely on our regular healers instead."

"But Father, you can't just take that away from me..." Aurianna's response was swift, her face etched with deep concern. The weight of worry pressed upon her as she contemplated the implications of her father's suggestion.

While regular healers undoubtedly played a valuable role in tending to more commonplace injuries and ailments, they lacked the sheer magnitude of power that Aurianna possessed—the ability to mend the wounds of countless soldiers and common folk alike. Her unique capabilities granted her the potential to make a significant impact on many lives.

Girsal turned abruptly, his voice rising with a mix of determination and paternal distress. "No, Aurianna! I refuse to watch you suffer like this. As a father, hearing these accounts..." He trailed off, his hand instinctively coming to rest upon his chest, as if the weight of the situation was physically palpable. "I simply cannot bear it. No, we will find another way."

Aurianna stood there, torn between the intense need to continue her vital work and the overwhelming urge to heed her father's pleas.

An icy silence filled the room, the weight of uncertainty heavy in the air. Aurianna struggled with conflicting emotions, torn between her desire to help others and the turmoil within her own heart.

As the Saintess, she held a divine gift of healing, given to her by the goddess of beauty for a reason. Perhaps, amidst this confusing dream and the resulting chaos, there was a test of her faith and strength—a trial to see if she had the courage to use her powers responsibly.

Yes, that must be it, she told herself.

A spark of hope lit up in Aurianna's eyes as she shared her newfound belief. "Father, I think you might be right about it being a dream. But maybe it was more than just an illusion. Perhaps the goddess was testing me, to see if I have the strength to face the challenges ahead."

The king's expression shifted to one of surprise and concern. "Aurianna, you can't possibly..."

"Please, Father," Aurianna interrupted, her voice firm and determined. "Let me continue my sacred duties as the Saintess. The idea of having the power to save lives but choosing not to use it would torment me far more than any nightmare ever could."

It was true. She wanted to help her people, no matter what. Although the disturbing memories of the night with Ralph haunted her, she pushed them aside. It had to be a dream, just like her father said.

Girsal's expression softened, and he managed a small smile. "Aurianna, are you absolutely sure? I don't want to force you into anything..."

Aurianna met his gaze with unwavering resolve. "Yes, Father. I am determined to continue as the Saintess, for the sake of those who rely on me."

With a weary sigh, the king gave in, his voice tinged with resignation. "Alright, Aurianna. I'll support your decision. Just promise me one thing—keep this dream to yourself. We wouldn't want anyone to question your sanity, would we?"

Aurianna nodded, understanding the need to maintain a composed exterior. "I won't say a word, Father. This will be our secret."

She bowed respectfully and turned to leave the room, her mind already busy with thoughts and plans. Yet, as she walked away, an odd sensation twisted in her gut—a subtle, unsettling feeling that crept up on her unexpectedly.