Update: The amazing artist Bethany Annie has completed another piece for this chapter. I’m honestly thinking of replacing the current artworks with hers so they’re on the initial display, though I do like how they look closing out the chapter; however, I really want to showcase her work forefront since she’s so generous and talented. For now, you will find her next piece at the end of the chapter. Please make sure to follow her on Art Station and Deviant Art!
Update Addendum: I put Bethany’s picture at the beginning.
The Broken Rose Page
<–Chapter 1 Chapter 3–>
Disclaimer: Final Fantasy VII, its characters, and settings are all property of Square Enix so I can take no credit nor claim any ownership of that. I do take some credit for the story’s plot.
Chapter Artwork Disclaimer: The source for the artwork featured below is located here. The original picture has been slightly altered from the original. All rights belong to the artist/photographer.
*******MAJOR CONTENT WARNING*******
Consistent and sustained graphic descriptions and mentions of rape/ sexual assault, sexual slavery/bondage, slavery, human trafficking, physical abuse, graphic descriptions of violence, mental abuse, emotional abuse, psychological abuse, body shaming, starvation, torture, forced pregnancy, forced childbirth, miscarriage, forced miscarriage, abortion, and other potential disturbing and triggering topics.
Aeris experiences gentleness, protection, and warmth for the first time in over a century from the man who once took her life. She barely has words for these concepts and is terrified “her master” will take them away.
Warm…I’m so very warm. I’ve never been warm before. Where am I lying? I’m on…a bed. A great, soft, c-comfortable bed. I’m covered. What’s this? She remembered. A…blanket. What’s under my head? A…c-cushion? N-No, that’s not right. It’s called…something else… Her head spun in the dark. I’m…not being used. I’m not…being beaten. I…I don’t understand…
Softness. It could never be softness encasing the terrified Cetra. That was for people, those who mattered, never a wretched slave. Yet she was so wonderfully warm enclosed in the opulent mattress. A great leather coat free of pauldrons enveloped her battered body. The substance that lined it caressed that bruised skin softer than a song. Light slid through a crack in the drapes, laying a thin edge on the blanket.
I have to get up. I can’t stay like this. He’ll punish me-
Then the door opened.
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