Hola! My first fanfic, so enjoy! I will post more chapters later, maybe sometime in the next two weeks or so ;)
London, 1836…
She looked out, staring from the opulent carriage, at the crowd of Londoners. Her father's crowd. Her father, Lord Byron, had died thirteen years ago, yet his words remained on the earth.
"...Creatures of timeless age, bound by the chains of darkness...", an announcer with a golden beard was reciting from a book written by her father in the middle of the square. The people looked intrigued by the poetic words.
Fictional words, she reminded herself. Nothing more than fantastical ideas to entertain the mind.
Yet she couldn't help wondering, just for the briefest of moments, what would happen if the world suddenly defied the natural laws, and - no, nothing like that would ever happen.
"Ada!" Her mother's voice jolted her out of her reverie.
"You're not thinking of your father's mindless works, are you?"
"No, mother. Of course not," she lied.
"Now that's my girl. I don't want my only child to be a hopeless romantic like her father was."
Ada gazed at her mother. Ada did not know Lord Byron, although she was very curious to know the man that was her father. In fact, she was only allowed to look at a picture of him last year, when she turned twenty. She only partially agrees with her mother that her father's work was a waste of time.
"You don't need to worry about me, mother."
"Good." She replied, "How are you studies progressing?"
"Very well. I am currently working on an algorithm encoded for processing by a machine."
Looking lost, her mother replied, "Ada, today these people are celebrating the works of many poets. I brought you here to show you what your father did, and to prevent your interest in him from growing. I don't want you to end up like him." I don't want you to be insane.
She didn't speak those words aloud, but it was clear, from the expression on her face.
The coachman opened the carriage door and helped her mother out. Then he held up a hand for Ada. Ignoring him, she hopped out and followed her mother. She led her to corner of the town square where there were less people, and to a small part where the ground was slightly elevated from the rest.
"Now, Ada," her mother began, " I want you to observe these people. These are people like your father. What do you see? Do they look like the type who can accomplish anything?"
Taking in a breath, she studied the people closest to them, two boys whose ages looked close to thirteen, obviously in a working class. Their heads were bent together whispering about monsters, like the ones from her father's work. Occasionally, one of them would glance up at the man on the podium in wonder.
" The people closest to the podium seem to be greatly interested in the poetic field, and the ones further away appear to be only interested in seeking entertainment from the mythical fact that monsters may exist., There are plenty of couples here, so perhaps they find father's work on monsters to be romantic in some way."
Her mother gave Ada an exasperated look. " I meant their classes! Do the have what it takes to own a house and a fortune?"
Of course. She should have know from the beginning that her mother was worried she wouldn't be able to own enough money to buy useless materialistic items. It's never a good sign when her mother wants to ride with her to town, and a worse sign when she actually talked to Ada. Usually a "good morning", and then she left Ada to the care of her tutors.
" Well, not many seem to have a decent financial plan, or any plans for the future at all." She said half-jokingly. "There are, though a few people from what appears to be a higher class, some look tired. Perhaps they are trying to escape debt. Or going to buy something from the stores."
She turned to look at her mother, hoping for her approval. She was met with a proud smile, "There you go, dear. Do not dwell on your father's words unless you wish to loose all that we own. Now, I shall leave you here to study the human characteristics of these people. I will be back at dusk, and we shall return home. Do not act irresponsibly," And with that, she turned and started walking in the direction of the fashion boutiques that lined the west of the square. No good-bye, or stay safe.
Ada stood there, unsure of what to do. She obviously wasn't going to stand around doing nothing for five hours until dusk. Her mother was a smart woman, excelling in math, yet she lacked the proper characteristics of a mother.
She glanced around at the Londoners, all focused at the bearded man's words.
" And so doth see..." He bellowed
Ada rolled her eyes, an unladylike gesture. No one here was paying her any attention, so she supposed it was fine. Smoothing out the front of her sky-blue dress, she wondered where they came up with the name "sky-blue", considering the sky here in London was almost always a bleak and boring gray.
With nothing to do, she stared, frustrated at the ground. Hearing someone calling her name, she turned around, and walking towards her was a girl with long, brown hair, matched with brown eyes. Elise.
Many people said they looked alike, even though Ada had mahogany hair and hazel eyes. They were, however, the same height and size. Her mother once said it was because they both had that look of intelligence in their eyes.
"Elise! What are you doing here?"
"I might ask the same to you," she replied with a smile. "It shouldn't be uncommon of me to listen to poetry,"
Elise was a sweet girl, and one of her only real friends. But she tended to be rather flirtatious, and was frequently ill. It was nice to see her out and healthy today.
"My mother brought me here to show me all the wrong doings of my dead father, and while I have to stand here in shame, mother is off shopping somewhere."
"Sounds sad."
"Not really." Ada sighed.
Elise looked at her with a look of pity in her eyes.
"You know, at least you have a mother." she said. Elise's parents were both dead, and she spends a quarter of her time with Ada, helping with experiments, a quarter flirting with men, and the other half in bed, sick. Though she was getting much better nowadays.
"Anyways, I think your dad was a great poet, so romantic."
She had to agree. She read some of his works, and they were great, even though they were dramatic and fictional. Her mother had discouraged her of doing so.
"Thanks."
"Ada, I must ask, have you any news of William?"
Ada sighed. If there was one person that Elise was more than obsessed about, it was William King-Noel. Just two months ago, Ada's mother had told her that she had arranged a marriage for her with Will, and that nearly broke all of what was left of their weak relationship. And while she despised Will for all he was - a rich, lazy, insignificant pest - Elise practically worshiped him. So when she found out of the marriage that would take place in one year, she had been pestering Ada for every bit of information possible. She knew Ada wouldn't care if she asked. Personally, Ada thought that you should only marry someone you love, and that was what drew her attention closer to her father's works.
"No, nothing new, but you can feel free to kill him for me," she said. The thought of that spoiled man's silk shirt getting stained by his own blood made her smile.
"Oh," Elise replied, disappointed. "Well, I should go. My doctor says it's better to stay home, or I might get sick." She waved and slowly made her way across the square.
Ada stared at her retreating back. Deciding to listen to her mother, she analyzed the growing crowd with boredom.
Then she saw something different.
Someone different.
He stood there, his coal-black eyes searching the crowd, looking for someone.
One hour earlier...
"Amelie! Would listen to me just this once?" Myrnin yelled, exasperated. But from the look in his friend's eyes, he knew he was fighting a loosing battle.
"No."
That was the only word she said before briskly walking out of his finely decorated study, carefully avoiding the pieces of the broken pearwood desk.
Myrnin stood staring in pity at the desk, mentally taking note to make Amelie buy him a new one for destroying said desk. Even though he was the one who smashed it.
Well, he thought, if she didn't tell me I needed an assistant, I would have never gotten mad. And it was only a soft tap, it's not like I broke it on purpose just to ruin her dress.
Well, maybe a little, teensy bit on purpose.
That dress was just too blue.
He finally tore his eyes away from the poor desk, and mulled over what Amelie had told him. She had come over just like any other day, but instead of asking how he was progressing in finding a cure to the disease which turns a vampire crazy, she suggested something that completely surprised him.
And displeased him.
It was a hit to his ego to suggest taking on an assistant on helping him with his work. As if he needed help. He was perfectly capable of finding one, it was just a matter of time, he told her.
But what infuriated him most was her suggestion. Amelie, for all her brilliance and wisdom, had suggested a human to be his assistant. Some girl named after a month, or something like that.
He had stopped listening (closely) when she made comment, which then turned into and order. Then she went on about how she had to get going to 'snatch some dresses before they're gone'.
She was referring those dreadful stores near the square. For reasons he could not understand, Amelie preferred the local fashions instead of imported silk.
She claimed it was the colour.
Myrnin saw no difference.
And so, it was while thinking of how much Amelie enjoyed dresses that he came up with the brilliant plan of trying to convince her to rethink her decisions while she was happily surrounded by fashions, that way, she would be in a better mood, and therefore more pliable.
It was mostly wishful thinking on his behalf.
And so, he left his study, walking past the wooden splinters before turning around and taking a moment to mourn for the desk. All the times we've been through, that desk and I, thought Myrnin.He thought of all those days he went without (unnecessary) sleep, with no one by his side except Kudos, (whom he just named on the spot) the loyal desk, and now he's dead because of him and they shall never again share a writer-and-desk moment and -
Oh my.
He suddenly realised how crazy it all sounded, even in his head.
Stupid disease.
He mentally cursed himself for being and idiot, and walked out, kicking a leg out of the way.
When he arrived at the square, he groaned internally.
He had forgotten that today was the poetry thing, and everyone was crowding the square. London was a very crowded place to begin with, and it had to be today that half the population was tightly herded in one area.
To make matters worse, the speaker was currently, reciting some works about vampires.
How ironic.
The crowed swooned at the spoken words, completely unaware that there were currently two, right amongst them. Well, one was here, and the other... somewhere.
Myrnin scanned the crowd; everyone was watching the reciter, and there was no sign of Amelie.
She probably went into one of those stores. He thought.
He turned a full circle, hoping to catch a glimpse of her ridiculous blue dress - undoubtedly covered with tiny wooden splinters, though only visible if one were to look closely.
Instead, he saw someone else, not paying the least bit attention to the speaker, but staring directly at him, as if he were a new discovery or a very interesting specimen.
He instinctively looked down at himself, and seeing nothing out of place, continued by staring back at her. He expected her to look away, as any polite lady should, but instead she continued her analyzation. A challenge, then. He thought.
He noticed that she was wearing the same shade of blue that Amelie had on, but her dress was simpler, and he took note of how she looked much better in that colour.
But he would never tell Amelie if he wanted to continue living.
His curiosity getting the better of him, he made his way towards her, (gently) pushing a few meals with feet out of the way.
She blinked, finally noticing him approaching.
"Hello," he put on a charming smile, "can I help you?"