Another day drew to a close in the Lunar Palace, a day that had been like every other of the past couple of years: inundated with failure and defeat; but little did Rita know that this evening would prove one of the most fateful of her time yet. In her bedroom, the sorceress sat at her dressing table, dressed in a plain, white nightgown, cleaning her extravagant makeup from her face. She brushed off her foundation gently, a single candle, sat on the bureau, providing her with a source of light. So absorbed in her evening routine was she, though, that she failed to hear her chamber’s door open behind her.

A breeze whistled through the room - her candle blew out.

The witch frowned, placing down her cotton pad, and stared at the tiny wisp of grey smoke rising from the extinguished wick; and then, she felt it, that feeling when you know there is someone behind you. Wheeling about rapidly, and squinting in the blazing light that shone in from the torch-filled outer hall, Rita could just about make out the form of her husband silhouetted in the doorframe.

“Zedd,” she sighed irritably, “Do you mind?”

The Emperor made no move whatsoever - he just stood there, leant casually in the doorway, eyes set on his spouse. A deadly silence filled the empty void between them.

Rita frowned - something wasn’t right. She rose to her feet, her long, silver locks of hair - free from their cone-shaped confines - flowing freely by her sides.

Zedd studied her carefully - without the makeup and her gaudy costume, she looked so plain - in fact, she was almost beautiful. But he was far beyond being distracted by simple good looks. He stepped inside the doorframe and closed the door behind him firmly, keeping his eyes rigidly on the Empress.

“Zedd?” Rita whispered, a cold fear beginning to tingle in her stomach; there was something abnormal in Zedd’s gait, something that only seemed heightened by the inky darkness of the room. She prayed that he was only playing a childish game…

Putting on a brave, unimpressed expression, she began to walk briskly toward him, aiming to get passed him -

SLAM

Zedd shot his arm out to the wall, using it as a barrier to block her progression; she gasped, halting in shock, and looked up into his visor - he stared down, right back at her. Swallowing, she began to slowly step backwards, retreating away from him into the empty, desolate abyss.

Surely this wasn’t happening!

In a final attempt to dispel the cold aura of the room, Rita tried a nervous smile; “Zeddy, c’mon!” she said teasingly. She plucked up the guts to approach him once more, and patted him lightly on the chest, wanting him to even just say something - the silence was eating away at her like a ravenous vulture!

“Since we’ve been married,” the Emperor finally spoke, his voice deep and intolerant, “I’ve let you get away with everything.” He began to stalk toward her and Rita hurried backward, like a small creature hoping to evade the jaws of a predator.

“Rita, Rita,” he purred, shaking his head with mock sympathy, watching her continue to shrink away as he closed the gap between them, “I’ve known all along of your façade, of your attempted poisoning of me…”

Rita shook her head in disbelief, her face paling to an insipid white as Zedd cackled beneath his breath; “Did you really think that a pathetic potion made by that Clayobian monster maker of yours would really deceive me, and make me believe that I was madly in love with you?” He threw his head back for a brief, boisterous laugh, not even trying to suppress his mirth; “It is I who have been pulling the strings all along, not vice-versa!”

“No…” Rita whimpered, shaking her head in denial; she felt like her stomach had just done a 360° turn; all this time, her every insult, her every order, had fallen upon the same merciless ears that her pleas of not to hurl her into a dumpster had when the Emperor had first returned to banish her! He had just been toying with her, biding his time… which meant that he wanted something from her; he would never have wasted all this time otherwise, stringing her along for so long…

Suddenly, Rita yelped, her knees buckling behind her as she walked backward into their bed; she hastily began to shuffle down the mattress away from her ingenious spouse - but he didn’t let this stop him. He crawled onto the bed, pursuing the petrified witch on hands and knees, until she had trapped herself by the wall.

She watched him with wide, glassy eyes, clinging to the brickwork for some kind of comfort, her hair now in disarray, her knees held up to her chest.

He stopped before her, sitting nonchalantly on his knees and placing his clawed hands in his lap; “That was fun…” he snickered quietly, his hidden lips drawing back into a wicked grin, “Now, where was I…?”

Rita swallowed - she just wanted to cry.

“Ah, yes…” he continued, “I’ve let you get away with many a-thing since we‘ve been wed… perhaps too many. You’ve made me look a bit of a fool - though I must admit, I have let you; it was necessary so that you’d completely let down your guard.“ He shook his head, “Oh, your plot was such a bold one, I‘ll give you credit for that - never have I known such blind ambition in one of my subjects… or, as a matter-of-fact, such plain stupidity. Your father would have been so proud… if only you’d have known that your measly concoction was too damned weak to affect my system.”

He watched a tear roll down her cheek and rose his finger to catch it, “Now, now… were we really expecting everything to go as planned?” he purred, little or no affection in his tone. He cocked his head a little to one side, “Besides, am I really that bad a guy?”

She didn’t answer - her fear had her paralysed.

He sniggered once more, “Maybe I am…” he shrugged, “But enough chatter…” He leant toward her, planting a hand to either side of her body and lowering his head right before her nose, “I think you owe me something - a favour, if you will.” Rita felt his breath dance over her visage as he snickered, before he rubbed the front of his chromium mask against her nose in something of an affectionate gesture, or more likely a possessive one; “I need you to let me get away with something,” he murmured, his voice now deep and husky, “You probably won’t like it, but you really have no choice.”

She inhaled sharply, finding breathing difficult - she couldn’t find the strength, let alone the will to move; he held her in his grasp, she was his to toy with and to mould.

She shuddered, silent tears running down her pallid cheeks as he caressed her long hair between his fingers; “You played with fire,” he whispered into her ear; she felt his other hand run behind her back and draw her closer to him; she choked on her tears, choked on her fright. /Please no/ was all she could think, her thoughts the only, futile opposition she could muster against the mighty Emperor.

He steadily turned about, holding her in his arms, and lay her down before him; she shook her head a little, closing her eyes, not wanting to see him, wishing he’d just go away…

He gently ran his hand over her cheek before he lifted it and placed it on her thigh, running it up and down her leg slowly; “Now,” he hissed, “You’re going to get burnt.”