*Peers from behind corner* So...um...hi. Yeah. Been a good year since I've posted anything. Due to school, and just stress as a teenager, I haven't had the urge to uploaded anything onto fanfiction in some time. I've still been writing, but not as intensely as I once was. So, after being pestered (you know who you are!) I desired to put myself back out there and post something. It's decently long, just for ya'll. But, I did condense and cut it down at the end. This is Amelie's POV of the feast, ball, thing, for Bishop. There was a LOT more talking and what not than I had originally thought, and due to not want to make this horribly long, I decided to slice it down a bit. Don't worry, I still have a lot of quotes from the book. =D Wonder if any of you guys will notice?

Well, I hope you guys enjoy. Please, please review. It will determine whether or not I post more.

The War of Chess

It had been many years since Amelie had experienced the emotion of anxiety. Though she hid it well as she waited to be introduced to the ball, the feast for her murderous father, the Founder could not stop the feeling from swirling inside of her. And he was directly behind her, his eyes staring straight into her with such fueled hatred that it burned to her core. Never had she ever desired to fidget, but now, she did. It almost frightened her—he frightened her. If she had not been so old, skilled in controlling and masking her own emotions, she would not have appeared as composed and regal when she and the human boy, Jason, walked out to the white marble ballroom filled with humans and vampires. All stared at her with awe, as it was expected. Her sparkling, almost ice like gown was beautiful, dazzling, and it glistened with the lights that hung from the marble walls. She only hoped that it didn't melt when she came too close to her father's raging fire.

After a pause to allow the attendees to clap and gawk, she and Jason left the entrance, gliding to the group of colorfully dressed people. Without a moment of hesitation, she broke away from the disgusting boy, finding herself tainted by his dirty soul. But, inviting him as her escort was a necessary card to play in the game that was about to become fierce with her father. Jason was a pawn, a pawn she'd soon dispose of.

Bishop, was called next. The name, as it always did, shuddered something inside of her, right to her soul, her heart. Though her stiff, frozen appearance never faltered, his name never ceased to bring back painful, horrible memories that made the remaining humanity in her want to sob and wither in misery. But the vampire part of her, the one that mainly ruled her soul, begged for revenge. And she would have it. Soon. The game was beginning, and she was far too skilled to lose. Though he would be a tough opponent, she swore she'd win. After all, she had already once before.

It was time to begin. But before she started to conduct her plans, her eyes caught two distant figures she had not expected, nor wanted to see at this ball. Myrnin, and young Claire. Anger burned inside of her, and her eyes narrowed at them as a result. Claire looked, and the fear washed into her eyes in a quick second. How dare they? How dare they come when she had specifically told them both to stay out of this? What fools. Did they not know that they were two of her most important pieces? She couldn't lose them, and now they were throwing her strategy all into jeopardy!

Myrnin glanced her way. He smiled, and did a faint nod before taking Claire's hand and leading her along into the crowd. The child seemed frozen with fear, and she was right to be. When this was over-oh, both would meet a punishment. But, at the moment, Amelie had no time to attend to their betrayal. She could adjust things to this, just enough so that everything could still happen accordingly.

Vampires that she knew began to approach her, talking in a graceful, friendly manner. Small talk, but small talk that was more than just a means of amusement to pass the time. A few times Amelie glanced at Bishop, making sure that he was not watching her. Then, the conversations changed with her acquaintances. Words, phrases in secret codes, saying whether or not they were on her side and prepared to fight as her pieces on the chess board. As the night went on, she tallied up her pieces, judging where her odds were in winning this new game with Mr. Bishop. Greatly she wanted to frown, but she kept her pale lips in a thin line.

Not enough.

Red hair caught her eye, and before she could stop herself, she careened her head in the direction of the person. Sam. He was looking at her, a grimness and worry filling his light blue eyes that she had not wished to see. Quickly, she looked away, and tried to force the grief that clenched her heart to halt its efforts to destroy her until her affairs were taken care of.

Sam was the one piece that she could not bear to lose. Bishop could never know.

Time was soon breezing by, far too quickly. Distantly, she could hear the clock ticking, annoying her to no end. She briefly looked at the time, and nearly cursed under her breath. Not enough time. She needed to hurry, before the offerings for Mr. Bishop's arrival began. Everything for her plan had to be precise, or it would fail, and they all would die. Suddenly, everyone became silent, and turned their directions to the wooden stage that hide something behind a black curtain.

Amelie halted her current conversation with the vampire, Charles, one she was certain was an ally, and looked in the same direction that all the others were. The curtains pulled away, and a throne was revealed. Bishop eased up the three stairs, and sat himself down into the throne. He rested his hands on the arms of the massive chair, looking pleased, powerful, and prideful. Then, his eyes fixed her way, and a cruel smile spread across his lips. It made her sick.

She, as the Founder, of course, had to formally stand beside the royal guest as the vampires brought forward their tributes, offerings, possibly sacrifices, depending on Bishop's will. As the vampires were called, they came up to the elder vampire. He asked for their loyalty, and those that she saw as potential enemies gave themselves to him without a single blink. Some sent her a wary glance, but she only returned the look with ice. As more passed by, she looked faintly at her father from the corner of her eye. His gaze told her that he thought he had already won, that she was far too afraid to fight him. He was horribly wrong. A part of her wanted to smile, but she stayed frozen. Keeping her hand in the game far from his sight was the only way to win this.

A few more names were called, and Amelie found this a little boring, dull, but somehow tense. She could sense something was about to occur, something that would not be in her favor. It churned inside of her in an uncomfortable way, but as always, she stayed still.

Sam's name was called, and Amelie's focus was suddenly sharp and alert. She watched him as he and the human girl next to him walked up the stairs. Something heavy filled her heart when his soft, blue eyes met hers. He bowed, and their gazes never broke. The love in his eyes for her was clear, and a part of her longed to touch it, to capture it as hers, but another wanted it gone and far hidden. There was also a fire in his eyes that she did not like, something familiar, the same courageous flame she saw the day he confronted her at the church and asked her to change her ways in Morganville. The day she had begun to fall for him.

To her displeasure, he broke eye contact with her, and turned his head toward Bishop's way. He merely nodded to the older vampire. No respectful bow. Just a nod, and it looked forced.

'No! Samuel, do not be rash!' She wanted to plead, but she could not speak. No. If she did, she'd lose another piece on the chessboard, maybe a few. It took skill for her to cover her frustration and anxiety. If her father reacted in the way she was predicting, he would kill Sam. That she did not want. Not a single part of her cracked, nearly shattered soul desired the young vampire to die.

She loved him too much.

"I welcome you to Morganville," Sam said. "But I'm not going to swear my loyalty to you."

Dead silence. Amelie stared at him intensely, never blinking. If she had a heart beat, it would have been racing. 'Sam! Stop!' Her mind screamed. She may have cared for him, but his youthfulness and blind love for her was making him do idiotic things just to protect her. He needed to be quiet, before her father broke him. Her strategy was failing, and if he did not stop, it would all be over.

"No?" Bishop straightened in his chair, a sign Sam had his full attention. There was a glimmer of amusement in his eyes, but it could change to annoyance with a single second. "Your lady with acknowledge me. Why not you?"

The words Sam responded with were powerful, and oozed with his feelings for Amelie. She wanted to groan. "I have other oaths." He meant her.

Something flickered in Bishop's eyes, curiosity, curiosity in the emotions that filled Sam's voice. Amelie was stiff, and she felt her back begging to tense, but she did not allow. She settled with biting her teeth together just light enough so that no one could see her jaw clenching. As though on its own, her feet glided close to Sam, protectively, preparing for Mr. Bishop to attack.

"To her?" Bishop gestured toward Amelie. He didn't even give her a glance. Her stomach sank. He knew. He knew the feelings Sam and her shared. No... "Well, then, her oath to me with bind you as well, Samuel." The words he spoke were not what Amelie had expected. He wasn't going to kill Sam, or, maybe not at the moment. Bishop waved his hand flatly for Sam to leave. "Go. Leave the gift."

"No." Sam's voice was strong, and sounded unable to falter.

Amelie leaned close to Sam, and inclined her head to whisper fast into his ear, "Don't. Walk away, Sam."

He looked at her briefly, the fire in his eyes hardly extinguished. He didn't want to. He wanted to stand up to Bishop and defend. But then the flames calmed with defeat, broken pride, and he nodded, jaw clenched.

Sam looked back to Bishop, and like a fool, he went on. "She's my responsibility," he said. "And if you want a gift, take what Morganville offers you. Freedom." And then he did the most foolish thing. He reached into his coat, and pulled out a blood bag. The most mocking and disrespectfully thing to gesture toward an elder vampire.

Before Amelie could subconsciously pull him away from her father and force him to leave, one of Bishop's lap-dogs, Ysandre, bolted up from her seat and raced to them with anger flaring in her eyes.

Francois joined her. "You dare!" He snarled with his fangs out, and knocked the blood bag out of Sam's hand with a hard slap. Male before male, their prides began to clash, beginning with powerful looks at one another. 'Don't fight,' she hissed in her mind. 'Sam, don't you dare fight'. "Take that filthy thing away!"

A scream. Ysandre had grabbed the girl tribute by the hair and yanked her away. "She's the tribute, and you have no right to deny her to him!"

Amelie could no longer allow herself to stay silent. She allowed her icy power to snake out of her, and she stepped toward Ysandre, causing the younger vampire to look at her wide eyed with fear. "He has no right. But I do." Her voice was hard ice, and Ysandre grimaced. Amelie focused her power toward the woman, making her shudder, and then finally to release the human.

Fire and ice clashed. Their eyes snapped to meet, Amelie's and Bishop's. They stared at each other for some time, both of their energies pushing against one another, seeing which one would break and lose. But to her shock, he eased off, and smiled. When he spoke, it was to Sam, but he never broke eye contact with his daughter. "Take her, Samuel. I find that she is not to my tastes after all."

Sam took the girls hand, and escorted her briskly off of the stage. He and Amelie looked at each other briefly, words spoken by their gazes. He shook his head, and walked into the crowd with the girl. That should have ended more worse than it had. Bishop was planning something, something that she did not know. In response to her thoughts, she looked at him, seeing him smiling cruelly, like he knew something she did not. A gut feeling told her to stay alert, to not allow her guard to falter, even if it meant to give up something valuable.

Michael was called next. And he followed in his grandfather's footsteps, refusing to swear loyalty to Bishop. This time, Amelie did not act. She did not move, did not speak. She kept still, but watched closely. Bishop's entertainment was over. Now, he looked annoyed, and ready for this show to end. The heat of the game was about to begin, Amelie could sense it.

Then it was Oliver. He glanced her way, a look dwelling in his dark eyes. He was her best player, even though she and him held many differences. That man was the second strongest vampire in her town. Amelie inclined her head. A signal. Oliver did not nod, did not do anything else at all, except change his focus to Bishop. He understood, and was about to start her strategy. Hopefully, it would work.

"I bid you welcome," Oliver said." And nothing more." He bowed in a mocking manner, a way that caused rage to boil over Bishop's face. "Your days of ordering us are done, Master Bishop. Haven't you noticed?"

"Go!" He barked. "Bring you tribute, and walk away while I allow you to walk away."

Play.

Oliver left Eve, one of Claire Gothic friends, without a second of hesitation. He exited from the stage, not even giving Amelie a moment of his time. Of course, as she had predicted, Michael became wild with protective rage as he watched Francois and Ysandre closing in on Eve. Sam tackled his grandson before he could do anything, and Michael struggled to break free. Shane, the brash human boy, leap to the girls aid, even though he hardly seemed confident that he could combat the two vampires.

Maybe things would work. Maybe she'd win. Her side of the board wasn't demolished yet.

Amelie stepped forward, just before the two attacked their human meals. "They belong to me," she said coolly, unconcern for the twos welfare clear in her icy voice. "They are not Oliver's to give."

Bishop looked to her, his eyes burning with hatred. "That argument could be made for anyone in this town," he said, voice low, husky, feral. A warning of his second hand. "Will you deny me any tribute at all?"

She smiled slowly. "I never said that. Be careful, father. You sound desperate." Oh, that stabbed him deep. His eyes narrowed, and he clenched his jaw as his eyes flashed a murky red. She tempted him, and he fell for the bait.

Second play.

Myrnin and Claire were called. Of course, the old fool did not give any of his will to her father. Bishop was now furious, and far from having patients. With a mad laugh, leaving Claire standing confused and shocked, he pulled out a concealed knife, and slashed toward Bishop, cutting his arm.

Third play.

Bishop's followers acted, and like Amelie had predicted, they attacked Claire, and she, the brave little child she was, acted, and with holy water. Ysandre screamed as she was burned, and released the girl. Francois rushed to his allies aid, but became burned as well. Their flesh turned into a nasty black and charred red.

A taken piece.

And then before Bishop could get his hands on Myrnin, the old fool looked at Amelie. Time froze for a moment, and his eyes said one thing, one thing she had not wanted. 'I'm sorry'. And he left. Laughing hysterically, jumping over tables, and crashed through the back doors to disappear in the dark hallway. Everything became tense in the ballroom-she became tense. No. He was supposed to stay. Without him-

One of her pieces lost.

"It's time for a test, my child." Amelie's cold eyes snapped to her father. "Swear loyalty."

Playing as the following, good daughter was over. Amelie stood her ground, and allowed all of her icy power to escape from her. Some backed away from her, others stared at her with shock and horror. Yes, her aura was horrifying, and it was one thing that allowed her to have the strength to stand up to her despicable father. Myrnin might have left, but she still had strong pieces on the board. It was time to fully act.

She said one word, one word that held more power and strength than any other could have had. "No."

Furious. "Blood traitor! Murderous witch!" He leap to his feet, and their clash of energies began. He had been holding back before, and she nearly stepped back from the massive force of his power. "Give me the book, and if you refuse, I will destroy you."

She knew it to be true. The madness and loathing in bloody eyes portrayed his feeling perfectly. More force against her will. Amelie clenched her jaw as she struggled to keep herself from falling back. No. She would not lose to him. But her ice was melting fast, and his fire was hardly fading.

To her amazement, Claire came to her side, and with her combined will, Bishop's seemed less forceful. "She wants you to leave," she said coldly. "You need to leave. Now."

Sam joined beside Amelie, and others soon followed. The fusing will of Morganville's residence was just enough to combat Bishop's power. He staggered back, and stared with shock, and also building anger. Amelie glared at him, allowing all of her hatred toward him to fill her gray eyes.

"You're not welcome here," Oliver growled. "This is our town. Our people. It's time for you to leave."

Bishop smiled, a smile that unsettled Amelie. No longer holding back. He was about to fully attack. "A rebellion? How refreshingly modern."

And then his associates lurched for humans and vampires alike, and the war finally made its start. Screams from behind, Bishop's hidden followers now revealing themselves to fight with the crowd. Amelie snarled, her eyes turning crimson, her fangs sliding down. Times of regal control were over. It was time to behave like a proper vampire, and dispose of the one threatening her territory.

Francois went for Jason, and prepared to sink his fangs into him. Amelie was there in a second, grabbed the weaker vampire, and threw him away from the boy. He hit the wall, the impact of his back making the marble shatter. She hissed. "My property."

Ysandre tried to scratch at her face, but Amelie easily avoided. Her hand clawed around her throat, and Amelie held her at a distance as she thrashed and tried to harm her. Amelie looked to Jason, seeing him crying on the ground, hiding his face in his hand. She growled. It was annoying, but she still needed him for one more move before she allowed him to fall into hungry hands of her enemies.

She reached for him to take her hand so that she could lift him to his feet and push him away. "Boy. BOY!"

His sobs turned into an insane laughter. Everything slowed. Everything became silent. Jason reached into his robe, pulled out a stake, and before she could shove Ysandre away and prevent him from hurting her, he jumped up much faster than she had predicted, and jammed the sharp wood directly into her heart. Her eyes grew wide.

No...

Ysandre backed off, no longer seeing the older vampire as a threat. Her laugh echoed inside of Amelie's ears, tormenting her, telling her how she had just lost.

She had over thought her strategy, and had prolonged its launch for too long. She should have forgotten Jason, and instead should have gone for her father. Myrnin had warned her... Warned her to not get carried away. But she had, and now...now...

Feelings in her legs suddenly vanished, and she began to fall. Everything felt...cold, colder than usual. Things were slipping away, but the fire that burned in her chest never left. It hurt. Her heavy eyes somehow found the strength to look at her father. He was smiling, a smile that no father should hold when watching his daughter being slain.

No...

Strong, protective arms caught her, but she was hardly aware of whom they belonged to. Sight blurring, she stared up into the pained eyes she recognized as her lovers. Her lips parted, and she whispered one thing before blackness and nothingness took her. "Checkmate."

So, how was it? Like I asked up ther', please review. Please. Please. PLEASE. I'm begging ya'll.