Author's note: This makes the most sense if you read "What a Jerk" and "Late Arrival" first.
"Mister West! How nice of you to join us tonight and add color to these monochromatic proceedings."
- Kenneth Branagh, Wild Wild West
Maria smelled something that offended her delicate sensibilities. Charlotte felt a disturbing chill in the air that made one too many hairs stand up on the back of her neck. The two pale and cold-blooded noblewomen were standing next to each other in the shadows of the throne room.
Charlotte was wearing the short red dress she had been gifted after being turned into a vampire. Her velvet lining matched her deep red eyes glowing underneath her mage hood. Maria was wearing a white and gold ballroom gown with an open front skirt that provided more freedom for her legs. Her long waves of gold hair swept over her shoulders unbraided, while a cloth choker helped hide the small black wedding kiss on her neck.
The bitter looks on both of the women's faces clashed with the dark and mystical elegance the rest of their appearance conveyed.
"What worm crawled up your snout this time, Maria?" Charlotte asked sarcastically. She was tapping the toe of her black winged boot against the carpeted floor.
"My snout happens to be perfectly fine," Maria replied sharply, narrowing her pulsing red eyes. "You know how much I detest being near you, Chocolat."
"The name is Charlotte!" the hooded brunette vampiress hissed in anger.
"Sorry. My French accent always slips in at the strangest times." The fair vampiress smirked with the tiny tips of her fangs hanging over her lips.
"You should be careful with how you flap that tongue at me, Goldilocks. My husband is the master of this whole domain. Yours is only second in command," Charlotte proudly reminded Maria.
"And I happen to be Lord Olrox's one true wife," Maria stubbornly shot back. "You're just sloppy seconds, Riding Hood. Who is this Lisa woman I keep hearing about? I'm sure Dracula will grow tired of you and move on to the next girl with fresh blood, just like he did with her."
"If Olrox is so noble, the least he could do is teach you some sense of fashion," Charlotte scoffed with disgust. "What are those pants that hug your lower quarters so closely?"
"Hmph! They help me stay agile while I'm fighting in this gown," Maria replied. "Why is it that I've never seen you once take off those horrid stockings? Didn't you ever learn how to shave your legs?"
"At least I'm not married to a decaying prehistoric lizard," Charlotte said.
"At least my husband isn't an insecure mess who can never decide how he should look. I bet he's just a bag of shriveled up bones under all those disguises," Maria said.
"Watch it, owl pellet," Charlotte growled with her head hanging low. The ominous light from her eyes almost faded in the shadow of her crimson hood.
"After you, cauldron slime," Maria snarled in return. "Your blood was so rancid when you were still alive that Dracula only drank what he needed to turn you."
"You dare!" Charlotte gasped. "My king was merciful with me so I could keep the most of my natural beauty in this life. I've heard the imps whispering about how there was hardly anything of you left after that brute you call a husband was finished with you."
"Lord Olrox devoured me whole to show me how much he yearned for me! He bled me dry so he could fill me with more of his gloriousness when he brought me back!" Maria crossed her arms and turned her head away. "But I suppose a simple appetizer like you could never understand such things."
"Keep testing me like this and I'll turn you into a frog, you laced up little floozy!" Charlotte snapped as she lost her temper.
"I'd be delighted to see you try," Maria snapped back. "I'll send Osca to peck out your eyes first, strumpet!"
Barely a few yards away, Dracula and Olrox were sitting beside each other on matching thrones drinking from chalices of deep red wine. Their long withered nails were wrapped like vulture talons around the curves of two miniature female figures carved into the stem of each glass. Dracula's cup was held up by an exotic golden sorceress with her arms raised in spell craft. Orlox's chalice was carved in the likeness of a swift and powerful hunting goddess.
Behind their seats was a towering painting that was as beautiful as it was macabre. It was lined with red curtains and served in essence as a family portrait. The focal points of the picture were Charlotte (here dressed in the white blouse, blue cape, and short blue skirt she used to wear as a mortal) and Maria (fashioned in her long-forgotten forest green garments) standing side by side. The composition started near their thighs and ended roughly at their noses, keeping their faces half-anonymous. The arms of their mysterious out-of-sight grooms were wrapped over their waists, while the women's mouths were frozen in looks of horror and pain as fangs plunged dutifully into their bared bleeding necks.
But the ones in the most pain were the two vampire kings seated in front of the painting. Dracula and Olrox's postures were nearly identical: Each sinking miserably into his chair and holding his hand to his head trying to fight off a severe migraine. They drank heavily from their goblets in a vain attempt to drown Maria and Charlotte's voices from their minds.
"The brides are bickering again, dear blood brother," Olrox groaned with despair.
"Immortality can be such a curse." Dracula shook his head in profound regret.
Author's other note: I'm pretty sure this doesn't pass the Bechdel test.