15. ROTTEN

Clarissa looked at her reflection in the mirror with a very stern expression. She was not happy, she was not sad and she was not angry. She was numb. She had a long floor-length dress on, beautifully falling below her waist. The dress was made with layers of beige-colored fabric. The innermost layer was made of pure silk while the rest of the shape was formed by layering multiple layers of organza. The top of the dress was bejeweled completely with shimmery golden embellishments as they extended down the dress' skirt. It was arranged as such that it faded before it reached the knees. Her shoulders were covered by a golden shimmery fabric as it beautifully fell off her body adding to the overall look. Her long black hair was pulled up in a high ponytail which really complimented the long golden earring she was wearing. The overall makeup on her face was very subtle which added further to the grace she held.

It was evident she looked impeccable, flawless, graceful, and beautiful. But she felt numb looking at herself all dolled up but for who? The person who ruined her life? The person who sucked life completely out of her? She was tired of keeping up with being the "good wife" and her married life had not even started yet. After today's party, she was to leave Lizvia and live in Alman, the land she was always told was forbidden. They were always told scary stories about the big bad vampires. 

She chuckled at the irony. The big bad vampires. She was now a part of those big bad vampires' family. She was going to live under the same roof with them. She was not happy about the idea but it was a must. When Agathon had proposed peace to Clarissa and gave her a choice to either help him or run away. She cried that whole night. Peace? Such a noble cause. She was to help a man achieve peace who had ruined her peace. A man who had pushed her into the depths of darkness. She was beyond repair now, she was broken and in pieces, and there was no way she could hold herself together now. Not after losing Jun. The pain of losing her mate had left her broken but she had stayed strong despite all that. She could either lock herself and cry or she had to stand up and fight for her people. She chose the latter. She chose her people over herself. What did that do for her? Those same people stood up and asked her to make the scapegoat. They did not have any feelings of compassion for her. They did not think for a second about what she had gone through instead they made her feel like she owed them something because she was to be crowned the next ruler? She did not even want that post.

This sacrifice she had made was not because she wanted to protect her people. It was for her own sake. She had made this sacrifice for her revenge. Her main target; Agathon was all she had eyes on. She was going to completely and utterly ruin him and she was going to relish every single moment of it. 

Although unlike Agathon Clarissa was never born with darkness in her but she had developed it. The darkness was too deep and too dark now for her to escape and she did not mind it. She wanted to stay in it. She felt this very beautiful feeling when she would think of the things she was going to do to Agathon and how miserable he would be. She got off on his misery and she did not even felt inhumane or guilty for feeling that way.

Just then there was a knock on the door as someone entered the room. Agathon stood in the doorway dressed in a black tux with his dark nicely done in a bit of a messy manner. He stood there in awe as he smiled looking at her. His prize. His trophy. His key to all of his problems.

The light from the window from behind made her look like an angel. A beautiful angel who had come to save Agathon from his misery. All he had to do was play his part. He had to love her without any inch of love in his heart. He had to cherish her without feeling any respect for her. He had to support them without ever actually wanting to. Agathon had never had any feelings that would make his heart flutter. The only thing he had felt was passion and only when he had painted something or someone into crimson. His source of paint; was fresh red blood.

He had a darkness in him that no one knew about. Even Aeneaus had seen just a glimpse of it and it horrified him for his life. He had spent his whole life trying to hide himself, his raw true self. But now he had her, he had his angel who was going to help him paint, who was going to be his muse, his brush, his palette, and the canvas, oh, the canvas was going to be the whole world. He could feel his hand tickling from the rush he felt even thinking about it.

They both made it seem like they were sacrificing something bigger for the greater good of the world. they became these superior beings who were going to resolve everything. They were so noble, so pure and so beautiful in the eyes of the world. But they were equally rotten inside, they were equally dark inside and they were willing to push the world into hell for their selfish gains.

"You're ready?" Agathon asked.

Clarissa gave him the brightest smile she could give, "Yes." She replied.