DISCLAIMER: I do not own anything apart from the plot *incredibly sad face*


Chapter 2

The moonlight shone through the forest, the shaded trees contrasting against the white mist that smothered the forest floor.

A fire had evidently broken out through this part of the forest like the plague, sizing ever tree in its path.

It was a gruesome site; however the odor was more profound. The stench of burnt bark and death collided my senses, proving difficult to withstand. Jagged rocks and broken off branches littered the uneven ground for many miles. I was fortunate enough to have lost feeling in my feet early in the trek.

With all my might I briefly had the privilege of seeing the moon before my neck buckled once again.

The full moon provided me with empty hope, as it usually did. With the guidance of the moonlight, I'd easily be able to backtrack and flee this place once and for all. But I knew better than that. Escaping the people I'd grown up with was impracticable and was not thought of. The consequence was too horrid for even the bravest to consider.

The fact that I was unable to walk limits the boundaries of being able to escape anyways.

My breathing hitched as another rock scraped across my ankle. Carrying me was merciful and the people I worked for were anything but, so I wasn't entirely surprised by the lack of etiquette my fellow people shared. Still, I favored being showed a little bit of kind gesture, considering the state I was in. I failed to return Arthur home safely and although I tried my best to cut down the bastards, it still wasn't enough. When the spear hits true, there's no hope for the victim.

The bastards 'escorting' me came and carried me along with our dead until I awoke some hours later and felt obliged to beat me until I could no longer walk as my punishment for failing. It's been like this since I learnt the skills in wielding a silver stake: you fail; you pay.

I was confronted with the unexpected surprise of not being dragged on the rough earth, but now on concrete. A path had formed, meaning only one thing: we were close.

I suppose I should have known we were nearing the destination because of the commotion coming from up ahead. I couldn't help but glance up, before again my neck gave in under the pressure again.

We were home. Glorious Eilean Donan stood before us, looking as majestic and haunted as it always has. When the sun set over the mountains, the castle would be shaded, and therefore would look black. To me, it always looked and felt black, like an endless pit of nothingness.

The Residence, a secret society run by unpromised dhampirs, conquered Eilean Donan some fifty years ago from the Strigoi. The siege lasted three days before our past commander cut the king of the Strigoi's head clean from his shoulders and mounted it unto a spike.

That is when our alliance with the Strigoi themselves was formed. The former Strigoi king's second in command demanded our races to make truce, forever binding us in a peaceful treaty. If only it was that simple. See, the Strigoi were once either Moroi, dhampir or human, and therefore once becoming Strigoi, they tend to, in order words, loose their former selves. Which therefore causes a problem because they also forget their manners, and makes them near impossible to communicate with. The Resistance was formed for the sole purpose of keeping my unpromised race safe and keep the rest of the world in order, forever fearing us. By doing this, they trained us to be quicker than the Strigoi, surpassing the intelligence of the Moroi and making us durable and ready for combat at any time. We are the caretakers of disruption if the treaty was breached. The only ones we do not and will not associate with are the promised dhampirs and their precious Moroi. They are despised more than the Strigoi themselves.

Having said that, the Strigoi are not exactly our allies. They're snakes, oblivious to emotions and kill without thought. Some along us fear them, even though we are trained to best them. They're the smart ones, the cautious unpromised dhampirs who have seen what the Strigoi are capable of. The 'peaceful treaty' only still stands because the Strigoi numbers are dropping, no matter how many are awakened. I have no doubt that we'd have been overrun by now if the Strigoi king had a sizeable force behind him.

The fact that they just murdered our commander means one thing – that the Strigoi king himself was losing control of his own men. Bands of young and recently turned Strigoi, like the group that killed Arthur, are the worst. They're new to the undead life of the Strigoi, thinking they're invincible and can go on killing sprees. Not on the Resistance's watch.

I wonder what will happen to me now that I failed to kill off the rogue Strigoi group before they could murder our commander.

Surely our other commander would no doubt have my head.

I looked up again as we made our way across the bridge. At night, Eilean Donan was lit up with various lights pouring outside the windows and in the courtyard where torches were lit for those who were on guard duty and training. We only slept through the day.

Apart from the light, the only sign of life was the smoke accumulating from the chimney.

The forest, mountains and the lochs surrounding the castle provided the seclusion and a way of escape. The Resistance picked Eilean Donan because she was easiest to defend and although she sat on an isle, the only way to access is through the bridge, there were several ways to flee. Plus the bridge had rows upon rows of gunpowder invested into the columns. One must only light up the closest column to set off the trap.

The better we hid and prepared ourselves, the better our chances of survival were. We were on the brink of war and our numbers were increasingly dropping because of it. My own friend was butchered and-

No.

I squeezed my eyes shut, drowning out the memory. I will not let my weaknesses get the better of me.

Eager to distract myself, I slowly lifted my head to gaze upon the castle and a brief sliver of fear ran down my spine.

Send me in a cave full of Strigoi without a weapon and I'll manage. Having his eyes rested upon is something I couldn't bear.

I'd rather die at the merciless hands of the bastards carrying me rather than him ushering the poisonous words of my sentence. No doubt it'd be gruesome.

I managed to turn my head to the side and view behind me and see if there was anyone coming up behind us. A Strigoi is what I was hoping for, but the only thing that stood from the ghastly scenery was the faint but noticeable trail of blood my feet were leaving.

When we got to the castle one of the dhampirs, dressed in a cloak with the hood pulled half across his face, walked ahead of us and proceeded to signal the guard to open the gate. It creaked open; my bravado faltered. A faint whimper escaped before I could clamp it down. A slap across my face killed whatever hope I managed to surge forward.

The dhampir who slapped me was the same one that signaled the gate open for the two dhampirs on either side of me.

I took one last look at the moon, surging up the courage to look away as I was led through the courtyard. Blood, long dry from their earlier attacks on my face, once again started seeping from my mouth. A bittersweet taste.

If I was to die tonight, then so be it. But I was grateful to at least see the moon one last time.

After walking up the stairs and making our walk towards the main entrance, we came to a stop.

One dhampir went in first, pulling me along with him while the other stepped in after me. Their grip on my arms would no doubt leave bruises later.

The door closed with a harsh thud. Numbness overcame my body as dread sunk in. The coldness no longer gripped my body, and no longer did I attempt escaping from my captors. There was no point. The hope I had previously held was lost after they had beaten me for trying to escape them. I was already on the brink of death when they found me. It seems I don't have much longer anyways.

My attention was brought elsewhere by the stench of death that engulfed the room. A stench I knew too well.

The cloaked dhampir lit a torch and the hallway was overcome by light. I flinched from the sudden brightness of the room and turned my head away from the light source - then I saw it.

The cause of such vile stench.

Huddled in a corner of the room was a male body. Judging from the chalky white skin, I knew he was Strigoi. My eyes widened. It was the one I had butchered.

Wasting no time, my captors dragged me onwards, followed by the cloaked dhampir.

I didn't have to see his face to know who he was.

Emil, of course.

A loyal dhampir to the organization. Loyal to the damn heart. I should have known it was him. He'd no doubt savor the privilege of beating up the illustrious Rosemarie.

His eyes lowered to mine. His mouth twisted into a distasteful snarl, then turned and led the rest of us to the main hall – hopefully they're still be serving breakfast.

Once we followed the passageway to the end and turned right to find an open door, my bravado was silenced completely.

My bottom lip started to tremble as Emil moved closer and lifted me into his arms with effortless grace.

I barked out a yell, feeling as if every one of my bones had just twisted.

"Wait near the door," he said gruffly to the other two. He swung around in the direction of the door and walked in sideward to fit in. The door closed behind us. I didn't dared look him in the eyes or even acknowledge he was there. Instead, I fought to keep my eyes open as Emil walked down a narrow stretch of stairs. The wood would protest every so often. I was surprised we didn't go through, since Emil is no lanky dhampir. His body was almost as wide as the stairs themselves. At the end of it, another door opened.

The commotion coming from the room was deafening, however as soon as we proceeded through the door, the noise ebbed.

Emil walked through the throng of dhampirs. Some I knew, and majority of those I wish I didn't. I spotted new faces here and there. The silence proved to bring zero comfort.

I knew all too why, and I hated the fact that I appeared so weak.

It didn't help the fact that when Emil reached the middle of the room, he promptly dropped me. My back hit the floor first, then my head.

I felt as if I'd been stabbed numerous of times everywhere. I clamped my lips shut, unable to escape the muffled scream slipping out.

More blood flooded my senses, now black spots threatened my vision.

"Rosemarie."

I squeezed my eyes shut as his voice rang out.

I heard footsteps coming towards me. It was him. His boots were the only sound breaking the silence. What was worse, him crouching down next to me.

On instinct, my eyes opened and I looked upon hell itself.

Stan Alto, the leader and most feared man in the Resistance. His very presence sets everyone on edge.

His darkened green eyes narrowed at the site of me. His eyes sought mine, and once he had my attention, he promptly grabbed my neck in his rough hand. I knew this was his little game, swiftly grabbing my neck and only squeezing if he was displeased with my answer.

Although he wasn't suffocating me as of yet, my hands still gripped his.

"I understand that you failed to do what I asked of you."

His voice wasn't booming off the wall. His tone was deadly, but quiet. For once.

I didn't answer, just swallowed loudly.

"Four people died, Rose. Why?" he barked the last word out.

I must have been visibly shaking by this point, because he slightly loosened his grip to let me talk.

Moment of truth. I was to tell him what happened without the bullshite, or else he'd sense it. There was no way to sugar coat what happened.

I swallowed before saying, "We were ambushed, sir."

God, I hated this place. Under the pressure, I could barely think straight at all.

"What happened?" he roared.

Others began to shrink back in fear. They couldn't comprehend of the pain and fear coursing through my veins.

"W-We were ambushed, sir, by Strigoi-", I heard a few gasp in bewilderment, "-we had reached Dunrobin and w-were escorting Commander Arthur from the castle when…when-," I stuttered, a tear leaking out, "- they attacked from the forest. We were caught unawares. A spear impaled both Serena and A-Commander Arthur. We were outnumbered but I managed to gut the remaining…," I finished, because I couldn't continue; the pain was too much. It hadn't been my fault, but I was still going to die because of it.

Stan glared at me for a long time.

So long that my mind drifted off to when I had first met him. I was four. He and a group from the organization rescued me and the other children from my village and took us in after the Strigoi attack. Back then he wasn't so bad. He took pride in teaching us combat, however back then he was only second in charge, his father being first. When his father passed on, Stan took charge and his demeanor changed entirely. By then I was fourteen.

They say Stan's father was worse than his own father, and Stan was regarded in the same way. Hence why everyone feared him so much.

Stan's eyes were suddenly ablaze with hatred. Hatred, no doubt, towards me. He abandoned my neck and grasped a chunk of my hair, pulling my face closer to his.

"One mistake, Rose. One mistake is all that can get you killed here. Do you think you deserve mercy?"

The answer almost left my lips, but I bit it down.

After enduring what I had when running through the woods when I was young and losing my parents, then growing up in what left like a death camp, I deserved mercy. I was a solider, ironically, of war. That's how I was trained and that's how I've grown up. Second chances weren't common in the organization; therefore we grew to be perfect warriors; never questioning the commander and never considering leaving.

Yet I did. Every moment of every day. If I said no, Stan would deal the final blow. Would it be so bad? I'd be free from of this cruel universe. I'd be able to float above, relaxing and let the wind caress my cheeks. Here, all that caressed me was blood.

I briefly closed my eyes, envisioning what it'd be like to finally escape Stan. I knew it'd be enjoyable, but one thing pulled me back.

Meredith.

"Yes," I said loud and clear, my voice rebounding over the walls, the only sound to break the silence.

My eyes opened and met his unwearyingly, which seemed to catch him off guard, considering the implications of my current state.

He bit the inside of his cheek, contemplating. My eyes never left his. He was the one to look away as he suddenly launched me upwards in a standing position. I hissed in pain as he beckoned another dhampir towards him, carrying an unknown object.

Stan spun me around, never letting go of me, and whispered in my ear, "Let her see it."

The dhampir walked up to me, and then held up a damaged photo of a Moroi.

My blood ran cold at the sight of her.

"Here we have a Moroi, determined to change the old ways and convert those Moroi gifted with mystical power to fight alongside their guardians."

My lips parted in surprise. The cowardly Moroi fighting alongside their guardians?

"This causes the Strigoi king distress, as one particular royal family is known to be exceptional fire users." It was the Strigoi king's own family. After turning Strigoi, he no longer had the ability to bend fire. The dhampir holding up the photos held up a new one. Again my eyes took in the woman in the picture.

"Tasha Ozera," Stan acknowledged with distaste.

The Ozeras were a disgraced family according to the Moroi; having had two family members turned Strigoi, the Strigoi king and his queen: Lucas and Moira Ozera. I was under the impression that Tasha Ozera was one of the instructors that taught novices fighting techniques.

The dhampir proceeded to show the first picture to me again after Stan gestured on.

"She's the Moroi queen and must be taken care of," he said gruffly, then leaned down closer to me. "You are to assassinate her if you hope to be redeemed of your faults. The king has sent his deepest apologies for Arthur's death and will be sending two of his men to escort you to the Moroi castle after you are healed. You will set forth to kill her and bring peace between us and the Strigoi."

Stan wasn't in anguish for Arthur's death because everyone favored him. The two had never gotten along.

But of course, the Strigoi can annihilate us at any moment; however it was Stan's focus to make peace with them to further our chances of survival, and to, in the future, gain enough knowledge of the king's frequently changing whereabouts to murder him and his remaining race. Considering Strigoi can't assassinate the queen directly, due to her being locked up in her castle and the protective wards, they contact us to do the dirty work. Frequently.

"You fail, you will pay the ultimate price," was the last thing Stan said to me that night before he handed me off to another dhampir to carry me back to the dormitory. All the while, I was thinking I was damned lucky to be given another chance at life.

The queen had no idea what was coming for her.


Later that night, back in the room I shared with Mere, the moon shone brightly through our miniature window, as if trying to bask me in its glow.

Meredith retrieved her crooked brush and sat down gently on the edge of my bed. She grabbed a lock of my dark hair and gently started brushing.

"It's good to see that they've given you another chance," she whispered, cautious of the proximity with the others in the rooms next door.

I knew the tone she used very well. She may as well have said I'm surprised you're still alive.

I shrugged, and then had to bite my lip from screaming out. I hissed in pain, lurching forward and away from Meredith's brush.

"Sorry," I bit out as quietly as I could. I leaned back with exaggerated slowness and Meredith took up soothing my hair. I was covered in bandages, and although they stopped the bleeding, the never ending pain was still evident whenever I moved.

"You can't blame yourself for their deaths," she firmly stated. "You're inability to control their movement is the reason why you shouldn't be so hard on yourself. There was no way you could have stopped that spear, even if you were one of the undead."

"I could have stopped it," I mumbled against my pillow, still staring up at the window.

She snorted quietly. "You're fast, Rose, but not that fast."

Just on the right side corner of the window was a single star burning bright. I felt drawn to it, as if it held all the answers I needed to know. Could I have saved him? Could I have gained control of Banner and leaped over Serena's horse so that the spear would have impaled me instead?

An appalling realization overcame me and the star was suddenly forgotten. My eyes widened in the dark.

"What if Stan orchestrated Arthur's death?" I said, my voice barely audible.

Judging from Mere's shift in position, I could have sworn that she'd swat me across the head if I were in better shape.

"Do you want to be killed?" she hissed, climbing over the bed so she was facing me and took my face in her hands. Her eyes drilled mine and pinned me there. "You're the only one who knows what it was like – running in the woods, forgetting our parents were still back in the village and were probably dead or worse, and yet we were so petrified that we couldn't look back," she whispered, and a tear fell down her cheek. She angrily wiped it off. "Rose, if I lost you then they'd be no reason to go on. I hate this life and I know you do too. You're my sister. But if you die because others have heard you say what you just said, I will bring you back and kill you myself."

My eyes were wet with tears by the time she finished. She was always the emotional one out of us two, but could always make me tear up if she was too.

"I'm sorry. I just…" I trailed off, not knowing what else to say.

"I know," she said gently, wiping one of my tears. "We will soon be free."

The yearning for it only intensified at her words. I knew there was no point further sobbing about it, so I kept it in, hidden from her. She went and grabbed her pillow from her bed and placed it next to mine, while I lowered myself down unto the bed. She moved in after me and pulled the blanket over us both for the desired heat on chilly nights like these.

"Mere?" I said after a few moments.

"Yes?"

"Don't fall in love."

She snorted. "Should be easy."

"If we're going to escape from here, we have to limit our bonds to the others," I whispered, knowing that it was easier said than done. We all had grown up together so leaving them behind would cause heartbreak. However, if freedom was what we wanted, freedom is what we'll find whether or not it'd cost our lives.


A/N: Hope you all liked this chapter. Please remember to review and let me know what you think :)

And not to worry you Dimitri luvahhhs, he's coming soon! :)

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ForsakenValkyrie7