I hope you're all happy. I kind of gave myself a cavity describing Jasmine's room, but it was so much fun, I couldn't stop.

Dude, I am NOT good with finishing stories. Sorry, folks for the delay.


Part II

Liberation is not deliverance. A convict may leave prison behind but not his sentence.

-Les Miserables


Swift as a shadow, short as any dream,
Brief as the lightning in the collied night,
That, in a spleen, unfolds both heaven and earth,
And ere a man hath power to say, — Behold!
The jaws of darkness do devour it up:

So quick bright things come to confusion.

Jasmine's second bedroom had been particularly satisfying to design for the tyrant, especially after he'd cheerfully endured her irritating screaming, her countless, empty threats, and her habit of breaking things.

…..well, perhaps everyone in his new family was rather fond of breaking things, but it was a habit which would soon dissipate. Madeline had stopped smacking him across the face and throwing vases once she had seen the current state that her daughter was in.

Once she'd seen Danny, she'd immediately pledged her love and loyalty, though her lovely eyes had been swimming with tears. Heartbreaking, but, as he knew best, he would simply wait a little while longer. Time would heal all wounds, and was the destroyer of every affection.

…pardoning his own, of course.

Only out extreme courtesy to his little girl did he knock upon her large white doors, although both knew that there was absolutely nothing to stop the man from walking or phasing in, regardless if she barricaded her door or not.

…..yet again.

While Vlad waited, he heard nothing but a deathly hush from inside the girl's chamber, and then, his superior hearing helped him detect what sounded like timid footsteps slowly padding across her suite to the door. Vlad rolled his eyes slightly-didn't an educated girl like Jasmine know when to not drag her feet?

At last, the Rosegold doorknob turned, and he found himself gazing at Madeline's lovely daughter, whom kept her teal eyes anxiously averted away from him.

There was a time when the girl would be glowering bloody daggers at him, but now, her countenance was resigned, and exhausted. It appeared her tutors were keeping her up late once again-there were dark hollows underneath her eyes, which, while they'd once held a daring sparkle, were now monotonously deadpanned by either boredom, or some great, helpless sadness.

Vlad frowned, his brow furrowing as his long fingertips reached for the girl's chin, but Jasmine shied away from the touch, and reluctantly held her head up to meet Vlad's eyes, as he was forever ordering her to do. The man allowed her one wan smile of approval, and Jasmine hopefully opened her mouth to address him.

"I fi-"

But the man had swept past the redhead into her bedroom, and her words abruptly died, although a flicker of resentment passed through her expression as she carefully closed the door.

Vlad disinterestedly took a glance around the place, shielding his cobalt eyes from the glare of the enormous chandelier glowing softly above him, sending hundreds of thousands of little sparkles twinkling everywhere in the bedroom. He occasionally saw Jasmine rubbing her temples at suppertimes-he wondered if the ostentatious piece's constant brightness was giving the girl a headache. A small smirk twitched at the corners of his mouth at the thought, although his eyes remained cool and impassive.

The carpet was thick, fluffy, and cotton candy pink. The walls were a soft, baby-girl pink, and plenty of pretty pictures in beautiful, albeit extremely little-girl frames decorated with ballet shoes and pink teddy bears-were hanging from them.

The enormous chandelier above him was constructed entirely out of pink crystal, purple rhinestones, pink sapphires, and pink diamonds. It had cost a small fortune, but what was expense to the tyrant of the world? It was, after all, his oyster, and if he needed pink pearls-if only to drink in the look on Jasmine's face when she beheld it-so be it.

The marble bath in Jasmine's bathroom had shelves upon shelves of pink towels, pink washcloths, and, just to spite her, row upon row of pink bath toys. The faucets were made of solid gold, but they each had a pink gemstone set into their bases, and even the many fancy soaps, perfumes, and essential bath needs were all solid pink.

There were gold stars glittering on the ceiling of the girl's chamber, and the girl's enormous bed was a pink-four-poster with a mother-of-pearl-colored, elegant canopy veil (With pink lace and ribbons, of course) draped over it majestically. The bedspread, of course, was pink.

Pink bookshelves everywhere, but none of them were filled with the classics and psychological textbooks that Jazz so dearly loved. No-they were all filled with children's books, 98% directed for little girls, and a great deal of them were fairy tales whose sole purpose seemed to show off the princess' loveliness with pastel-colored gowns. Many of the shelves had stuffed fairies and pink kittens with bows tied around their necks on the top of them, and you were hard-pressed not to find yourself staring at a perfect Victorian china doll decked out in a ballgown or baby bonnet whenever you turned.

There was an adult-sized tea table surrounded by spindly little chairs (All pink) with little hearts on them, occupied by tiara or party hat wearing stuffed animals on in dresses, surrounded by a lovely pink tea set that looked as though it would crumble if you so much as looked at it wrong, all set with precious stones and perching on fragile little saucers.

There were pink vases, all filled with pink flowers. There were large pink dollhouses, all set with hundreds of little (Primarily pink) accessories for the dolls perfectly arranged inside, and plenty of small pink toy boxes filled with glittery dress-up gowns Vlad knew perfectly well Jasmine had not touched. If that little gloomy friend of Daniel's had stepped inside here, she'd take one look, and, if the windows and doors were dead-bolted, as they so often were, Miss Manson would most likely hang herself from the chandelier with one of the pink sheets.

If she were still alive, that was.

After admiring the spectacle, Vlad's eyes flickered to the Princess desk covered with hearts and little drawers with heart-shaped knobs that held stickers, scented glittery pens, and unicorn-designed stationary. On the desk's surface could you find the few remotely adult things in this toddler girl's paradise: Stacks and stacks of very heavy, very difficult, college-grade textbooks, surrounded by a growing pile of papers Jasmine had been forced to write in her own hand. Raising an eyebrow, Vlad turned away from it, turning his gaze back to Jasmine, who was hovering uncertainly by the door, clutching one arm, looking steadily down at the carpet. She appeared as though she were swaying slightly-the Yale professors he'd hired for her under penalty of death were clearly doing a fine job.

"So, how do you do, Jasmine?" he asked politely, a smirk blossoming on his face before he could stop it.

Jazz cast the man a weary, desperate look, but held her tongue for a moment-something Vlad had always very much encouraged her to do-before she began to speak, her voice slightly hoarse from underuse.

"I finished the draft as you asked. It took me all night, but I turned in all forty pages before sunrise."

Vlad nodded carelessly; he'd gone to one of the bookshelves, and was now halfheartedly flicking through one of the stupid little stories, snorting softly.

Jasmine's first room had been so quaint and quiet and perfect for her-dark, rich colors with creams and blues and modest while still being beautiful. Bookshelf after bookshelf filled was filled with every volume that her little heart could desire, but the girl had had a bad habit of throwing screaming fits that could last for hours on end, so Vlad had decided that if she wished to act like a two-year-old, he'd gladly treat her like one, and so, shortly after Jasmine had been permitted to see her brother and mother for the first time in two weeks, Vlad had moved her up to these girlified quarters, where thankfully, Jasmine remained quiet.

Almost too quiet.

Now the hungry lion roars,
And the wolf behowls the moon;
Whilst the heavy ploughman sleeps,
All with weary task fordone.

There was the soft sound of one of her private professors' voices during a great deal of the day, and by night, the girl mostly labored into the late hours of the mornings, studying. While she'd never been keen to ask for anything from Vlad's staff, she was now forced to take coffee around the clock, which while effective, still left her a quiet shadow of her normal self at mealtimes, and she was so weary her knife and fork kept sliding from her limp fingers.

Jazz cast the man an exhausted look, but tried again:

"So, can I be escorted to Danny's room?" she begged, her face very old, her voice very young. "Or to Mom's? I got my progress report back from Professor Ersatz the other day, and-"

"-you had an A-," interrupted Vlad, carelessly shoving the silly volume back, and going back to perusing the worn little novel he'd been carrying around with him. "That wasn't what we agreed upon, young lady."

Jasmine's eyes shone with angry tears, but she whipped around so that Vlad wouldn't see them.

"It was one simple mistake," she protested, trying to sound fierce, but instead, the girl simply sounded like she were pleading. "I was so tired that night, Vla-"

Thankfully, she stopped herself from finishing that sentence. Vlad would only accept one address from her without having her beaten, and it was one she would not, could not give, so she avoided addressing him altogether.

Vlad, apparently, did not seem to notice.

"Your thesis was phenomenal, and worthy of credibility. However," Vlad said mildly, and Jasmine flinched, "It is not quite so much so when someone drools all over the page after they pass out upon it."

Jasmine went scarlet.

"But I still got As," she said softly, hurrying to the man's side when he turned away from her again. "Can't you make one exception, just this one time? I just want to see Danny."

"You see your brother and mother at mealtimes."

Jazz shook her head in a flurry of orange, outrage beginning to boil inside of her once again.

"That's not the same thing! Neither of them ever speaks! Well, Mom occasionally does, but Danny-"

Now, Vlad was getting impatient.

"Jasmine, are you trying to imply that there's something you'd like to say to Madeline or Daniel that you would not be able to say to me?"

His tone was becoming dangerous. The color drained out of Jasmine's cheeks, and it took all the remaining strength the girl had not to crumble to the floor and start weeping, as she so often yearned to do when getting through the thick volumes of assignments her merciless tutors laid out for her.

"Please," said the girl imploringly, the lurid pink room twirling about her in a whirlwind of color. "If there's any humanity left in you….all I want is….I…just want to hold my brother, is all. And I want…..I want….."

Vlad briefly glanced at his 'adopted' daughter's countenance, and it appeared that he clearly disliked what he saw. With a sigh, the man shuffled forwards, took Jazz by the hand, and lead the girl to her bed, looking away when the girl buried her face in her trembling hands, but not able to pretend that the young lady was not suffering, either. With another sigh, he reached inside of his pocket and withdrew a handkerchief (Thankfully, it wasn't pink) before he handed it to Jasmine, who hesitated for a moment, and then accepted, drawing the cloth over her red eyes, puffy with fatigue. She knew the consequences of not doing so.

Vlad considered her for a moment, and then reached for her. Ignoring the fact that Jasmine froze up, he pulled her into his arms, still staring determinedly across the room at the girl's pink dresser, which held a small pink music box on it that had once belonged to a little princess.

"Jasmine. You don't have to work so hard."

Still frozen, staring at the wall directly behind Vlad, Jazz's eyes nonetheless filled with tears, although she didn't dare speak.

After hugging her close for a moment, Vlad drew her back, and Jasmine shuddered at the calm, entreating look on the man's face, as though he were begging a small child not to hurt herself. It made Jasmine want to cry and laugh and scream all at once.

"Hmmm?" he said aloud, when all Jazz did was stare wildly at the man, stricken. He pulled her back into a warm embrace, wondering if this had been what Jasmine had been about to ask for after she'd requested to hold her brother in her arms. Of course, the little girl wanted to be held by someone, but did not feel it could be her mother-the two rarely got to see one another, and Jasmine was suffering under the delusion that her mother herself was in continuous agony all day long, ditto unfortunate Daniel.

At the very least, he was certainly someone. The girl hadn't been held for weeks on end after she'd emerged from her punishment, white-faced and trembling. At the very least, it hadn't affected her quite so badly as it had Daniel, but then again, from what the boy had witnessed beforehand, you could hardly say that it had helped matters.

Frowning again, Vlad rocked back and forth, taking Jasmine with him, not caring as tears started falling like pearls on his suit jacket.

"Jasmine, we've discussed about this before… "

The girl let out a wild, hiccupping sound, and, face screwed up, she tried to withdraw, but Vlad only held her tighter. After a moment, he felt the girl press her face into his shoulder, he, the man she so dearly hated.

"….all you simply have to do is offer a few words, child," said Vlad gently, although you could hear the frustration and urgency bubbling behind his words. "A few words, and I'll permit you to visit your mother every day-or at the very least, every other day. I'll decrease your tutorial visits to perhaps three nights a week, with the rest of the time to your leisure."

Jack could hardly afford to send his children to high school-how the devil did he think he was going to send a brilliant girl like Jasmine off to university? Thankfully, Madeline was intelligent enough to squirrel away as much as she could from her inheritance to support her children's futures, but Ivy league schools mostly catered to the very wealthy, to those lucky families who could, perhaps, make a generous donation here, a few pay-offs there…a new library wing HERE…..and suddenly, their child was attending one of the best schools in the country. While Jasmine surely would have received scholarships for her brilliance, it would have scarcely sufficed to cover her fees.

Wasn't she grateful that he was forcing the best minds the universities had to offer to cater to her to begin with? Vlad's grip tightened, but when Jasmine let out a soft sound that sounded suspiciously like a sob, he started, and cradled her instead.

"Offer a few words, and you won't have to work so hard. As of right now, one will suffice."

Jasmine screamed inwardly, tormented. Vlad wanted an impossible word. She had begged and wept for her father in the beginning, and had even tried to attack Vlad a number of times, which had cost her-and Daniel-very dearly. Now, at the very least, she was bright enough to believe Vlad's cheerful threat that he would gladly cut off one of her father's fingers and present it to her as evidence that he still had him in his clutches, freezing underground in some hellish institution.

O monstrous! O strange! we are haunted. Pray, masters! fly, masters! Help!

In the beginning, she wouldn't eat a thing, desperate to prove her defiance (As if kicking apart ming vases were not enough) but if being held down and force fed were not humiliating enough, looking at her little brother's health at mealtimes and looking into her mother's distressed eyes was enough to make Jasmine want to die inside for her stupidity.

She wanted her Daddy. So desperately. And she had never wanted to acknowledge another man as her true father. Jack was an oaf, but she was THEIR oaf. Their loving, protective, and sensitive oaf.

And she felt horrible enough for wanting someone to cry to when Dad was probably being torn to pieces somewhere, if he were still alive.

The thought made Jazz start sobbing, and she hated herself as Vlad started rubbing her back, murmuring quietly. After a few minutes had passed and Jazz had forced herself to gulp her tears down, Vlad continued to rock her back and forth for a moment, and then, when no answer was forwithcoming, he sighed, and pushed Jasmine away from him, looking disappointed.

"Well, I suppose I'll tell a servant to bring you up a tray for to-"

Ready to tear out her own hair, Jazz threw her arms around the startled man, shaking like a madwoman, mentally beating herself and laughing and wishing over and over that she was dead.

"No. No, I'll be good. I promise." she cracked.

She hated how puny her voice sounded, but the frantic girl only squeezed Vlad harder, and while a very nonviolent person, she nonetheless craved that she had a knife to plunge into this terrible man whom could only truly be called a monster.

Vlad's eyes were still on her. Like a pair of cold embers, they burned. And while her stomach contorted at the idea of allowing Vlad this absurd little victory, she told herself that he would never receive her will. Ever. Even if it felt wonderful to be held like this, or if she wasn't fighting back tears as mathematical equations swum before her eyes, and her hand cramped with writing the countless figures out.

"...father," she at last forced out, feeling that vomit would have been less nauseating. At the very least, her face was pressed into the man's increasingly tearstained shirt, so the words were muffled, although they rang in her ears.

"Father, Please. Don't be angry. I'll do whatever you want. Please."

She sounded so young, she frightened herself. She needed out of this asylumn, or else one morning she was going to find herself chattering to the stuffed animals and preparing them a fake tea party.

Vision still swimming from the tears tumbling from her eyes, she looked up and saw a Cheshire cat grin on the man's face, his aura pulsating with triumph. Much to her disgust, Vlad pulled the girl into his lap, and tucked her head underneath his chin after he kissed her lightly on the forehead.

"That's a good girl, dearheart. That's a good girl."

As his arms wrapped around her, Jasmine started to sob once again, wishing over and over again that it was Danny, Dad, or Mom embracing her, and not some beast. Vlad let out gentle 'shh'ing noises when she started choking on her own sobs.

His eyes were bright and smug, and his truly wicked smile never once broke. It was harder to say whom she hated more at this point in time: Vlad, or herself.

How much time went after Vlad started whispering praises to her, she wasn't sure. Her professors scarcely ever praised her, as any lesson ill-prepared would certainly be their last. But after weeks of grueling and relentless study, it was more than welcome, even if it came from Vlad.

At last, when she could cry no more, Vlad lifted her off of his lap, and tucked her beneath the pink bedspread, patting her cheek fondly as she looked up at him with red eyes.

"I think you best go to bed now, dear," Vlad offered, voice uncharacteristically mild. "I'll tell your tutors that their services won't be required for the next few days...and you can forget about the assignments they currently commissioned you."

He picked up his book, checked his watch once again, and turned away from the distraught girl, before absentmindedly clapping his hands, making the sea of pink nightlights and the chandelier bulbs fade into darkness. Jazz shivered, and called out:

"What about D-Danny? And m-my Mom?"

Vlad phased into his ghost form, turned around, his eyes flashing, and Jazz shivered as a pair of scarlet eyes bored into her own from the darkness. She was certainly going to have nightmares tonight.

"You may visit your mother after supper-the three of us will adjorn to a parlor, somewhere. Daniel will..."

His voice became odd, and Jazz had to strain her ears to hear his next, barely audible words: "...simply have to grow up before he can join us."

And with that, he disappeared.

Alone in the darkness, Jazz simply sat there for a moment or so, stunned. Then, she clapped the lights back on, and cautiously got out of bed, eyeing the small music box across the room. It was one of the many things Vlad had enjoyed boring her to death about when he'd brought her to this room that hurt her eyes and embarassed her so vehemently by going on and on about its origins.

She crossed the room, wishing she wasn't walking on glittery carpet, and uncertainly reached for the fragile little item, reaching for its silver windup key. She opened the lid, and smiled faintly at the watercolored background of what was a lovely castle surrounded by dancing fairies around a small, wooden princess faded by age, but still had a sweet, innocent glow about her, wearing a ballgown and a crown of flowers. She spun obediently to the almost unbearably sweet tune playing, never once missing a beat.

Jasmine smiled at it for a minute.

Then, she hurled the item at the wall, watching it crack in an explosion of shattered porcelain, wood splinters, and gears, which tumbled to the floor, ruined forever.

The girl sank to her knees, and started to wail.

If we shadows have offended,
Think but this, and all is mended,
That you have but slumbered here
While these visions did appear.


Well, it had taken her long enough, but graciously, the girl had more common sense then he'd originally thought she'd possessed. Vlad thought that it would yet take her a couple weeks to get it through her thick skull that a simple acknowledgement wasn't going to destroy her. This was the way things were now, and thankfully, he'd gotten the Masters' women to accept it.

The best in this kind are but shadows; and the worst are no worse, if imagination amend them.

Sneering with triumph, and some tenderness at the memory of how Jasmine had reached for him, Plasmius continued on his journey down the halls, sinking beneath the floor for a few levels and finding himself at a neglected little stairwell that lead to a small tower.

Now, to only get Daniel to admit the same, life would be perfect, but first things came first: The boy needed to be shocked out of his melancholy to speak once again. It certainly wasn't VLAD'S fault that things had gotten so desperately out of hand, and Danny was in his current state, but nonetheless, his face fell slightly as he passed several rows of knights in armor solemnly standing at guard in this lonely little place.

The wind howled against the glass outside, so audible in its deathly hush. It was hard to figure out which was more irritating: Danny throwing temper tantrums like his sister, or this silence.

Shaking off the thought, Vlad arrived at the tower door, and knowing that the chamber was ghost-proof, became human, typed in a combination at the door, scanned a fingertip, and an eye, and the door slowly clicked open.

Now that that bit of unpleasant business was over with, it was time to visit his favorite patient.

This passion, and the death of a dear friend, would go near to make a man look sad.
Beshrew my heart, but I pity the man.


Yep, Vlad's still in denial. May or may not continue this-I think it might be more enjoyable for you guys to guess on Danny's current state and what happened to Jazz and Danny. (No, Vlad did not assualt either of them, for those of you with dirty minds. Hindsight, what I imagine happened was worse. *Shivers* I want to give this a happy ending, but don't know how...happy for WHOM?

So I may just let sleeping dogs lie. College means Lauren is mucho busy, so updates for my two accounts will probably only come around the weekends, which I think is pretty fair. Take care, everyone, and please review!