A/N: Hello fellow readers! Hope ya'll are doing well. I've decided to do another fanfic for VA! I hope you like it :)

Disclaimer: I do not own anything apart from the plot, enjoy ~

Present Day

Looking at the mirror, I raised my hand and touched a faint line on my forehead. I unconsciously traced it, but haltered when I realized there were three of them.

I scowled at my reflection.

"I know you're there," I grumbled. "I've been in endless amount of wars and managed to sidestep any person who'd want to mark me, but this…this will be my undoing."

Wrinkles.

Which meant one thing: I was getting old.

Just the thought had me yearning to curl up in bed and avoid people, until I heard laughter in the street.

My brow furrowed as I walked to the front window and opened the curtain. Children were dancing in the street, while a group of young boys played tag. I smiled.

Even a dog was happily yapping at the site.

The scene made me bite in lip in hesitation. Growing old was inevitable, but come on! Why did it have to start now?

I sighed, knowing I was being ridiculous but unable to shake off this fear of turning into one of those grumpy old hags that knit, eat, sleep, yell at people and having to repeat that every single day for the rest of my life. I shuddered. I needed to get some fresh air.

On that note, I grabbed a scarf and wrapped it around my neck and fashioned it so it looked fashionable, and not in an I'm-old-and-therefore-must-wear-scarfs-because-that's-what-old-women-do.

I grabbed my handbag and keys and proceeded out before I could convince myself not to. On the way out, I thought to myself, why don't I try getting a face-lift?

Cackling, I locked the door behind me, threw my keys into my bag and headed for the main street.

Along the way, I passed many town folk all of whom I knew well, and even received compliments! Well, you see? Old people don't receive compliments.

I turned the corner at the end of my street and proceeded upward towards the main street, which, as always, was crowded. For some reason, it calmed me. The more people there were, the more positive thoughts I had, with one standing out the most: we are free. Free to do as we pleased and lived in harmony. Even tourists from all around the world came here! Most of the tourists were humans and oblivious to the races that were here and the history that was made here, however they seemed to leave their mark on this place however way they could – usually by either donating money to the church or writing awed reviews on our main site. Yes, we had a site on the Internet – who would've known.

After passing several stalls, I made my way towards the café I make a habit of going to every morning. La Sirene, home to the finest fluffy omelets I'd ever tasted. I never had to order because they knew my choice off by heart. Scary…

After I entered the café, I went straight to the counter where Robin Badica sat behind, tallying up receipts.

"Good morning, Robin," I said, removing my scarf. Robin made sure to maintain the fireplace in the café so her guests were always happy and warm.

She looked up, her face softened. "Morning, you. Sleep well?" She asked. As if she didn't know. She was my neighbour and a close friend. The damn woman knew everything.

I gave her a knowing look. "I'm afraid so, just wish I didn't wake up to this," I said, pointing to my forehead.

She looked to where I'd pointed and laughed. "You've had them for a while and the crinkles in the corners of your eyes for even longer," she said, winking.

Well, that was rude. I raised a challenging eyebrow at her. "You'll get them too, you know?"

"Yes, but when I do, I'll wear them with pride because I can say I've lived long enough to receive them," she pointed out.

Fair point. Between us, we knew only a handful of those older than us to have died much earlier than us from either disease or the wars.

Which, as always, soured the mood.

She grimaced, looking up at me. "Sorry. Trust me to ruin the morning."

I shook my head, placing my hand over hers. "We've lost some of those who we grew up with. We can never forget that. But that's just part of life."

She nodded softly. "Still, what I wouldn't do to have them around."

Agreed. Even my best friend never knew of my survival before she past on. What if she had? Would she have been more relieved when passing on?

Wow, this was really souring the mood.

"Alright, shut it and get us some coffee. Take a break. We need to stop being so old," I said, shuddering at the last word.

She laughed, and then turned to flip on the kettle.

"One shot?" she asked.

"Make it a double. I'll find us some seats."

I turned and went towards where my legs always seemed to take me: to the far end of the café, right against the wall where an enlarged framed photograph was hanging on the wall above. After sitting down, I nodded my respect to the photograph, as always. Probably looked insane, but you gotta go with the flow sometimes.

I had just made myself at home and subconsciously started staring up at the photo again, when a couple sat down at the table in front of mine.

Tourists. Judging from their attire and beanies, oh and the fact that they both had expensive looking cameras hanging from their necks - yeah, you would call them tourists. I glanced at them again. Yep, dhampirs as well.

They seemed so absorbed with this place and the environment, while gushing on and on and on and on about the scenery. I completely blocked them out until the woman's sudden outburst.

"Look at that heroine! Do you think I could sport armour as well as her?" the woman enquired to her lover, grinning.

The man took a swig of his beer before giving her a once over glance, and then shrugged.

"Depends on how heavy it is."

The woman swatted his shoulder with a pamphlet while he laughed.

I looked at them, and blinked in astonishment. Were they talking about the photograph? I glanced at it. Yep, the woman in the photo was sporting armour.

"I wonder who she was – the inscription isn't well preserved. Must be an old painting."

"I'd say it dates back well into time, considering her armour-"

"Her name was Rosemarie Hathaway," I interrupted the man.

Both of them whirled around to look at me. I realized then that they knew I was eavesdropping; however both didn't seem bothered by it. Oops?

"You know who she is?" the woman asked, her eyes lit up with excitement.

I nodded. "Aye," I spoke, grabbing a toothpick and placed it in the corner of my mouth. Bad habit. "She was a maiden warrior, and a damned good one at that. "

Now I had their full attention. The man completely turned in his seat. "She has a story?"

"Not just a story, my boy, but a legend. Rosemarie was one of the most talented assassins in the industry."

"Will you share with us her story?" the woman asked, hopeful.

Tell these strangers of Rose's story? Would I even be able to tell it correctly? It was such a long time ago…

"Please. We are humble tourists from America," the woman said. "It has always been our dream to travel to France."

"Also to gain knowledge of its history. The books are always readily available, but to be able to actually see places, like all the medieval castles…it was be something inspirational," the man added.

I chewed on the end of the toothpick. Would Rose want this? For the innkeeper to host such a painting was one thing – but to tell a pair of dhampir travelers of her story?

I smiled a little. Just thinking of her made up my mind. I knew she'd have swatted me over the head and kicked me in the gut if I ever surpassed the opportunity of telling her tale.

I ushered the couple over to my table. They moved forward, sitting perfectly side by side opposite to me.

Robin brought over coffee, and gave me a knowing smile before sitting next to me.

"Rose?" she enquired, already knowing what was happening. Damn her hearing.

I nodded and while I emptied a sugar sachet into my coffee, I lowered my voice.

"To hear this story, you must embrace the events that occurred with an open mind. Rose was not always a pure and gentle soul. Nay, she was damaged, having been brought up in a cruel organization, formally known as the Resistance, which was not bent on providing second chances. "

Already I could tell that they hadn't expected this, and were both insanely intrigued.

I smiled, glancing up at them.

"Hear this tale, the legend of Rosemarie, the most feared maiden among the immortal world, said to be a shadow kissed mortal whose sword breathed fire and whose trail left towns in devastation. It begins, as many legends do, with but a simple mistake – one that changed Rose's life forever…

A/N: Oooh I wonder who this mysterious person is *waggles eyebrows*

I'll let you in on a secret? I don't know either! HAHA. Well, I lied. I have an idea on who but eh, we'll see how it goes!

Anyways, just letting you readers know that every character in this story is actually from the VA series - so no made up ones.

Anyways x 2, please review and tell me what you think please, because reviews are what keeps me interested in writing the story :) Hope ya'll enjoyed it ^.^

ForsakenValkyrie7