Chapter 32: Arisia’s Threat

"Abort the child," Arisia said.

The words alone made Eiravelle’s heart pound loudly inside her chest, each beat was a thunderous drum that echoed through her entire body.

For a moment, she could not breathe. She could not think. She could only stare at her sister in horror, the words reverberating through her mind like a curse she could not escape.

Then instinct took over.

She immediately hugged her stomach, both arms wrapping protectively around her middle, as if to shield whatever life was inside her from the cruelty of the world.

The gesture was automatic, primal, the response of a mother protecting her child from a threat she could not fight. Tears streamed down her cheeks, but these were different from the tears she had shed before—these were tears of defiance, of desperation, of a love so fierce it surprised even her.

"Sister~ I... I can’t... No..." Eiravelle answered, her voice was breaking on every word. She shook her head, her silver hair fell across her face in disheveled strands. "Please, don’t ask me to do this. Please don’t ask me to kill my own child."

Arisia’s eyes narrowed, her expression hardened into something cold and unforgiving. The brief flicker of sympathy that had crossed her features moments before vanished, replaced by a fury that seemed to radiate from her very being.

"You won’t do it?!" Arisia’s voice rose, sharp and incredulous. "Eiravelle, I am giving you a chance to clean your mess! So that you wouldn’t ruin our family’s name! And so Father doesn’t find a reason to throw you out! Do you understand what I’m offering you? I’m offering you a way out! I’m offering you a chance to salvage what’s left of your reputation, to move forward with your life, to pretend this never happened!"

"No... No!" Eiravelle said firmly, her tears are still streaming, but there was something new in her voice—a strength she had not known she possessed.

She was trying to be strong despite the fear that gripped her heart, despite the trembling that wracked her body, and despite the knowledge that she was defying her sister, defying her family, defying everything she had ever been taught.

"The child... It’s innocent," she said, her voice was quivering but determined. "I don’t want to kill my own child. I can’t. I won’t. No matter what happens to me, no matter what Father does, I will not take an innocent life."

Arisia’s face was contorted with rage. She raised her hand, and magic crackled through the air around her, invisible but palpable, a force that made the hairs on Eiravelle’s arms stand on end.

With a sharp gesture, she sent her power lashing out, and a vase on the nearby table exploded into a thousand pieces, the shards scattered across the floor like deadly rain.

Eiravelle flinched, her arms are tightening around her stomach, but she did not look away. She did not back down.

"So you will choose this bastard over your family?!" Arisia screamed, her voice was raw with fury and something else—something that might have been grief. "WHY DO YOU ALWAYS HAVE TO BE SO SELFISH?! Everything is always about you, Eiravelle! Your feelings, your wants, your needs! Have you ever once stopped to think about what your actions do to the rest of us? Have you ever once considered the consequences of your choices?"

Selfish. The word struck Eiravelle like a physical blow. She had spent her entire life trying not to be selfish, trying to be the perfect daughter, the perfect omega, the perfect sister.

She had swallowed her feelings, hidden her desires, buried her dreams so deep that she had almost forgotten they existed. And yet here she was, being called selfish for wanting to protect the only thing that was truly hers.

Maybe I am selfish, she thought, her tears are falling faster. Maybe I am. But if wanting to keep my child alive is selfish, then I don’t want to be anything else.

All Eiravelle could do was cry.

***

Outside the bedchamber, Gertrude had heard everything. The shouting, the explosion of the vase, the cruel words that cut through the door like blades. She had been standing in the corridor, her heart was pounding with fear and indecision, when she heard Arisia’s voice rise to a scream.

She could not stand by and do nothing. Not anymore.

Gertrude rushed down the corridor toward the infirmary wing, her old legs are protesting the speed, her breath was coming in short, desperate gasps.

The manor was large, and the distance between Arielle’s bedchamber and the infirmary felt like miles, but she pushed herself harder, faster, driven by the knowledge that Eiravelle needed help.

It was a little farther than she would have liked, but very reachable. She hurried up the stairs and through the winding hallways until she found the golden rabbit’s room.

The door was slightly ajar, and she could see Arielle inside, talking to one of the healers while the golden rabbit slept peacefully in her bed, oblivious to the chaos unfolding elsewhere in the manor.

"Lordess... Lordess..." Gertrude approached, gasping for breath, her hand pressed against her chest. Her face was pale with exertion and worry, and her voice trembled as she spoke.

Arielle turned immediately, her expression shifted from calm professionalism to sharp alarm in an instant. "Gertrude? What’s wrong? What happened?"

"Lady Arisia is getting angry at Lady Eiravelle," Gertrude said, the words are tumbling out in a rush. "She’s hurting her. Please help her. Please, my lordess, I don’t know what else to do."

When Arielle heard that, she immediately rushed outside the room. No explanation was needed when it came to Eiravelle. Her sister was in distress, and nothing else mattered.

***

Arielle ran.

She ran faster than she had ever run in her life, her heart was pounding in her chest, her breath was coming in sharp, painful gasps.

The corridors blurred around her, servants are jumping out of her way as she tore past them, her robes were flying behind her like a banner of war.

Please, she prayed to any god who might be listening. Please let me get there in time. Please don’t let her hurt Eiravelle. Please.

She reached her wing in what felt like both an eternity and a single heartbeat. She could hear the sounds from behind the closed door—the muffled sobs, the sharp, cruel words, the unmistakable sounds of a struggle.

And then, with a surge of strength she did not know she possessed, she threw open the door.

The sight that greeted her made her blood boil.

Eiravelle was huddled on the bed, her body was curled into a protective ball, and her arms are wrapped around her stomach. Her cheek was bright red with the imprint of a hand, her lip was split and bleeding slightly, and her arms were covered in bruises. Her pink hair was disheveled, tangled around her face like a veil of sorrow.

And Arisia was standing over her, her hand was raised for another blow.

"ARISIA!" Arielle yelled, her voice cracked through the room like a thunderclap.

She lunged forward and grabbed Arisia’s arm, yanking her away from Eiravelle with enough force to make her stumble. Arisia let out a cry of surprise and rage, trying to break free from Arielle’s grip.

"Let go of me!" Arisia screamed, her voice was shrill with fury. "How dare you touch me! How dare you interfere!"

"Please call Ariphale and have Arisia escorted out of my wing," Arielle said to Gertrude, her voice was cold and controlled despite the fury burning in her eyes. "Now. I won’t ask again."

Gertrude nodded immediately and hurried out of the room, her footsteps are echoing down the corridor as she went to find Ariphale.

"ARISIA! FOR HEAVENS’ SAKE! STOP!" Arielle yelled, her grip on her sister’s arm tightened.

But Arisia was beyond reason. She withdrew from Arielle’s grip and pushed her—not hard enough to hurt, but enough to make her listen, enough to force her attention. Her eyes were wild, her chest was heaving, and her hair was a tangled mess around her face.

"Stop!" Arisia cried, her voice was breaking. "It’s always Eiravelle! Everything is always about Eiravelle! And now she is going to ruin our family! She’s going to destroy everything we’ve worked for, everything we’ve sacrificed, everything we’ve built! And you’re just going to let her do it!"

"No!" Arielle retorted, her voice was firm. "Eiravelle is ruining nothing! She has done nothing wrong! She is the victim here, Arisia, not the villain!"

Arisia laughed—a harsh, bitter sound that held no humor. "The victim? The victim? She spread her legs for a stranger and got herself pregnant, and you call her the victim? You’re tolerating the sins of this whore!"

The word hung in the air like poison.

Arielle’s hand moved before she could think, before she could stop herself. The slap echoed through the room, sharp and final, and Arisia’s head snapped to the side. For a moment, there was absolute silence.

Even Eiravelle was shocked at what Arielle had done.

"You don’t speak that way to Eiravelle," Arielle said, her voice was low and dangerous. "You don’t speak that way about Eiravelle. Do you understand me? She is our sister. She is your sister. And you will treat her with respect, or you will not speak to her at all."

Arisia stared at Arielle, her hand was pressed to her cheek where the slap had landed. Her eyes were wide, filled with shock and hurt and rage. "You slapped me. You actually slapped me. For her. For that—that—"

"You are a spoiled brat!" Arielle interrupted, her voice was rising. "You’re too much! Do you think I am happy with the way you treat Eiravelle?! Do you think I enjoy watching you tear her down, day after day, year after year? Arisia, you’re older than her! You’re supposed to protect her, to guide her, to love her! And instead, you’ve done nothing but make her life miserable!"

"I have done nothing wrong!" Arisia yelled, her composure had finally cracked. "I have done everything for this family! Everything! And what has she done? She’s brought shame and scandal and ruin! She deserves everything she gets!"

"WHY DO YOU ALWAYS TAKE HER SIDE?!" Arisia lost control and lunged forward at Arielle, her fists were swinging wildly, her blows were weak and ineffective but driven by a fury that was terrifying to witness.

Arielle caught her wrists and held them, her grip was firm but not painful. She looked into her sister’s eyes with a mixture of anger and grief.

"I am not taking her side," Arielle said, her voice was shaking with the effort to remain calm. "She is our sister! She deserves love! She deserves protection! She deserves to be treated like a being with feelings instead of a problem to be solved! Why can’t you see that? Why can’t you understand that she is not the enemy?"

Arisia once again withdrew, pulling her wrists free from Arielle’s grip. She staggered backward, her chest was still heaving, and then she screamed.

She screamed at the top of her lungs, a raw, animal sound of pain and frustration and grief, and tears streamed down her eyes.

Ariphale arrived with Gertrude, her face went pale with concern. She immediately moved to Arisia’s side and wrapped her arms around her, holding her tight despite her struggles.

"Stop," Ariphale said, her voice gentle but firm. "Stop now, Arisia. This isn’t helping anyone. This isn’t solving anything. You need to calm down."

"Eiravelle is pregnant out of wedlock," Arisia said, her voice was cracking, "and you’re still defending her. You’re all defending her. No one cares about what she’s done to this family. No one cares about the shame she’s brought upon us."

Ariphale was shocked to hear that. Her eyes widened, and she looked at Arielle with a question in her gaze. "Sister, is this true?"

Arielle just sighed, her shoulders are slumping with exhaustion. "Take her away. I don’t want to see her. And if any of you speak about this again, I don’t know what I will do to all of you. This is not the time for questions, not this is not the time for blame. This is the time for our family to come together, not fall apart."

Ariphale nodded slowly, understanding that now was not the time to push for answers. She wrapped her arm around Arisia’s shoulders and began to guide her toward the door.

"Come on, Arisia," she said softly. "Let’s go. Let’s give everyone some space to breathe."

But Arisia was not finished. She twisted in Ariphale’s grip and fixed Arielle with a glare that was pure venom.

"Really? Just wait and see, sister Arielle," she said, her voice was cold and hard. "I won’t let this slide. I won’t let her destroy our family. I will do whatever it takes to protect us, even if I have to do it alone."

She angrily withdrew from Ariphale’s grip and stormed out of the room, her footsteps echoed down the corridor like the drumbeat of a coming war.

Ariphale followed, pausing only to look back at Arielle with an expression of helplessness and confusion. Then she was gone, and Arielle used her magic to slam the door shut, sealing herself and Eiravelle away from the rest of the world.

Arielle’s gaze landed on Eiravelle.

Her sister was still huddled on the bed, her body was curled into a protective ball, her arms were wrapped around her stomach. The bruises on her arms were dark against her pale skin, and the slap mark on her cheek was an angry red.

Her lip was still bleeding, a thin trickle of blood running down her chin, and her eyes were red and swollen from crying.

"Oh, my dear sister," Arielle whispered, her voice broke.

She lunged forward, crossing the room in three quick strides, and climbed onto the bed beside Eiravelle. She pulled her sister into a tight embrace, holding her as close as she could, pressing her cheek against Eiravelle’s hair.

"I’m sorry~ I’m so sorry~" Arielle murmured, her own tears falling now, mingling with Eiravelle’s. "I’m sorry I wasn’t here. I’m sorry she hurt you. I’m sorry for everything. I should have protected you. I should have been here. I’m so sorry."

Eiravelle didn’t respond. She simply cried, her body shook with sobs, her fingers are clutching at Arielle’s robes as if she were the only solid thing in a world that had turned to chaos.

She held on tightly, desperately, as if letting go would mean falling into an abyss from which she could never return.

"It’s alright now," Arielle whispered, her hand moved in slow, soothing circles on Eiravelle’s back. "I’m here. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere. No one is going to hurt you again. I promise, Eiravelle."

Eiravelle’s face crumpled, and she buried herself in Arielle’s embrace once more, crying with relief and exhaustion and a thousand other emotions she could not name.

Arielle held her, rocking her gently, whispering soft reassurances that she hoped would bring some comfort.

The afternoon light faded, the room growing dim as the sun began to set. Somewhere in the manor, servants whispered about the scene they had witnessed, about Lady Arisia’s fury and Lady Eiravelle’s shame.

Somewhere, Arisia was plotting her next move, her heart had hardened by anger and grief. Somewhere, Ariphale was trying to understand what had happened, her loyalty torn between her sisters.

But in this room, there was only silence and tears and the fierce, unbreakable love of a sister who would do anything to protect her family.

Arielle held Eiravelle until the sobs finally stopped, until her sister’s breathing evened out into the slow, steady rhythm of sleep. She laid her down gently on the pillows, pulling the blankets up to her chin, and then she sat beside her, watching over her like a guardian angel.