Renata sat placid, serene, and silent as women touched her hair, fawning over its splendid tone of color as they brushed it until it was like burnished sunlight spilling over her shoulders and down her back. She scarcely could bother to concentrate on what they said - it was all white noise, it meant nothing to her. It was hours after she'd returned from her ride, returned from the visit with her uncle yet the afternoon's events still lingered in her mind while she tried to ruminate and figure out what it all meant. Something should be done tonight, before it was too late even if she was imagining a threat out there. Better safe than sorry - was never more applicable than it was in this moment.

Females in both the low and higher ranks of the nobility had eagerly volunteered to 'help' the religious acolytes in preparing her for tonight. In truth they'd not only got in the way but also utterly supplanted and drove off any religious personnel, feeling the necessity to make Renata suffer their strange and alien sisterhood to the end. They were no true friends or allies of hers; it had been so long since she'd ever thought of any of them as more than acquaintances - in fact frequently she thought less of them than that. Eagerness was all they had to speak for them, they were eager to cultivate any last minute ground with her and eager to extend well wishes to one of their own - one who was leaving behind the worthless, frivolous, and carefree existence they practiced. The more time she spent in their presence the more she realized that there was just no similarities, no likeness between herself and these faceless females with their ever shifting emotional masks. To be honest the half of the time she did pay attention it only made her want them to go away more, even if she had to make herself ready without any assistance.

Before she could finish figuring out if the gaining the momentary peace would be worth the longer lasting insult she could render to them she was she was saved the trouble of that ultimately when the door handle made a hushed rattling sound. She was so eager for a break from the ladies that she knew someone was there before the door even started to open. Her companions didn't catch onto the fact they were being disturbed until the door opened just enough to admit one woman - a glance up in the mirror allowed her to see whom it was, something she hadn't been able to do from all the women surrounding her with their voluminous skirts. The new presence joining them was truly a blessing, it was her aunt. Although her aunt was not as powerful a personality as she was herself the mere action of stepping wordlessly into the room silenced everyone's chatter within in an instant.

However, from her appearance you'd never be able to tell of their shared blood relation, they looked nothing like each other. Her aunt possessed a pale complexion and dark appearance, her skin was the palest Renata had ever seen on a human and her hair was a brown so dark it was almost black. Reputably, her aunt looked much like her younger sister - Aredhel, Renata's ill fated mother. Truly in her family Renata's appearance made her appear the part of a golden changeling by comparison.

At forty years of age, Evadne was still the true beauty at court, age had done her credit and she still was the most beautiful woman amongst the nobility despite the fact that the years were collecting, weighing down upon her. Her beauty was a blessing the others begrudged her despite knowing the terrible truth of how it was the curse that trapped her and her sister, Aredhel both in loveless matches with the two royal princes of Crell Monferaigne. Her aunt strode into the room like she owned it, in truth she did, everyone owed loyalty to Evadne. She was their Queen but noticeably a few visibly relaxed once they saw whom it was, still resenting their foreign born Queen even after all these long, long years. In the eyes of many their foreign blood had been one ill strike against the foreign brides forced upon their native country, what had truly made the nobility cold to her aunt's presence and prestige was the fact they thought her undeserving of it. Evadne brought no wealth through her marriage to their King, Evadne had been reluctantly accepted as a peace offering.

In truth neither Aredhel nor Evadne had been wealthy; they did not possess fine dowries, not enough to win themselves a match with Princes. No, the only thing they had to speak for them was the fact that while their native country was impoverished they were proud and powerful; militarily their country was enough of a threat to contest even Crell Monferaigne. In his early youth, long before he assumed the throne, her uncle's rash action of raping a foreign Princess, even of lesser rank, was one that threatened Crell Monferaigne with war. The former King – Renata's grandfather, was not willing to permit a war to outbreak over any personal disputes; he would NOT allow his armies to wage war unless it was sanctioned, holy, unless the war being fought was fought for the Gods. It had left him with the decision to force the Prince, his heir, to tender the offer of an honorable marriage to the offended and hoped that settled the issue. It had not, the country had not wanted to give up their Princess without due compensation. With the threat of combative conflict hanging over his head the King offered his second son in marriage to the second daughter, essentially tying the two countries tightly together through a strong enough marital alliance to defuse the conflict grudgingly on and for both sides.

No, many of the females there, especially the highborn who had fancied matches with the royal family back in the day of their time as debutantes, resented the Queen who, after the death of Renata's mother, was the only reminder of a shameful affair. The disdain was shared, mutually felt though her aunt did a better job of concealing it or at least exercising her distaste with polite reservation. Evadne's dark blue eyes swept over the crowd until they sought out and found Renata's own. A smile curved at Renata's lips, it was a smile she found reflected back upon her aunt's face. It was the first show of positive emotion Renata had seen since she'd entered the room. In truth her aunt never showed genuine happiness save around Renata, the act of raising her sister's child having been Evadne's one true joy, the only happiness left in the wake of her sister's death.

"Get out," Evadne's command was soft but resolute, in that moment she was not to be contested or denied. Her arm was still braced against the door, holding it open to reveal an abandoned hallway. When others did not respond right away her eyes hardened, dark with restrained but flinty anger shining in their depths. Again diplomacy prevailed for her aunt did not allow herself to do something so disgraceful as losing her temper, "Ladies...I said 'leave'," a graceful sweep of her arm accompanying her verbal command, letting them know it wasn't a request but a command, they were to leave and do as she bid.

With many incensed looks and slow steps they all obediently filed out, the last one's heels barely fleeing in time to avoid getting her skirts shut in the door. Renata watched her aunt who stood there a moment, as if making sure they were really going away, leaving the two of them alone. It was then that she saw her aunt was holding a dark box held securely in her grasp - some kind of jewelry?

For a moment she stared at Renata, as if taking her in, taking in what she had become. Almost hesitantly she finally stepped forward, gently laying the box down upon Renata's vanity turning to place her hands on either side of her neck, embracing her softly and kissing both cheeks before allowing her hands to smooth over the elegant robes. A sadness dwelling within her dark eyes, a smile of conflicting happiness curving at her lips, finally a sigh, "If only you mother were here, if only she could see this, could have seen you. Your mother would be proud to see her daughter rise so high in a court, THE court which once scorned her, scorned OUR common blood..."

With a certain sadness Renata recalled that although it had been her uncle's sin it had been her mother, Aredhel, who truly paid the price, shouldered the heaviest burden. Evadne had been given all the rights due to a Queen, Aredhel had been given a Prince in marriage but endured countless slights and cruelties at court. Her mother had came unwelcomed into a foreign court, endured the fact she was reliant upon the hospitality of her husband when it came to wealth, reliant upon his protection from the wolves she'd been fed to. Her mother had come virtually in poverty, her fathering having the power to ruin her, to withhold any fruits of marriage from her. Fortunately her father had been very kind, collected and controlled compared to his elder brother. If he had resented the union he was forced into he had never taken it out upon her mother, her father had made her mother's marriage and the last few years of her life bearable.

Renata swallowed, "I miss her," bitterly she recalled what had denied her a mother's love - the undead. They'd killed her mother and father both in an ambush during her own infancy, a royal orphan when she was not even a year old. It made unease tighten in her gut to think that now they possibly lingered near unmolested, unconfronted - a bitter pill to swallow, in fact it felt like a pill that hadn't gone down. The possibility they were around still bothered her, as if they were a pill stuck in her throat, one she could not swallow down no matter how hard she tried, "Aunt, I visited the royal manse today...I tried to speak with, to convince the King...I feel them again, the undead, I feel them near, all around."

Queen Evadne went rigid, pulling back out of the embrace to survey her, if she'd been angry with the noblewomen she looked incensed now, "He did not take you seriously? I will talk to him, talk to him on your behalf...if they are near we will not weather the insult of their presence," her aunt had never been a devotee to the faith, she'd admitted that to Renata once, not until the Undead had killed her sister, destroying what little was left to her life after suffering the forced union. No, after her sister's death, her aunt had counted the blessings that remained with her, taking delight in the fact she'd been left, been given her sister's only child to raise and love as her own, "I will not let him ignore you, I will speak to him but I came now to share my own personal sentiments with you. I am proud of who you have become both inside and outside my influence, what you have become with or without my blessing...if my sister were alive this day, she'd be the happiest woman alive, I know I am in having raised you to this point in time in her stead. I, WE have something for you,"

Renata found her aunt's last words to be strange in how they were delivered, we? Her mother was long deceased and left nothing behind save her...Aredhel had left nothing behind and been grieved only by her daughter and sister. Evadne turned her hands carefully balancing a shining coronet, Renata's breath instantly was caught in her throat.

The piece was lovely - thickly braided silver entwined and arching almost lovingly around a priceless fortune of shimmering jewels - a rainbow of them frozen eternally in their vivid colorations. Ruby, sapphire, diamond, and emerald were only of the few gems she recognized on sight but the jewel that truly captured her eyes was at the pinnacle, the center of the crown - an enormous opal the length of her thumb in both length and width. She could not stop herself from the show of emotions playing in her eyes, her throat constricting tightly - it had been her mother's, the ONLY thing her mother had truly called her own.

When her mother had come to the court to wed her father, utterly destitute and unadorned he'd had a piece commissioned to welcome his foreign bride, to make her feel worthy of a match she'd never wanted or asked for. He had been determined to make her feel like a Princess, to understand that she was HIS Princess, his wife, maybe even his love? To have it now was like having a piece of her mother, here and now, always nearby even in death. When the preciously pricey personal heirloom had not accompanied her mother, its owner to the grave many a covetous eyes, herself included, had speculated and asked after its fate. Though, in truth, her own queries had been motivated by its sentimental value to her, to her mother's memory than by any base instinct like greed.

Evadne transferred it to her left hand, using her right to push Renata down upon the seat in front of the vanity's large mirror before taking the coronet and resting it upon her smooth sunlit tresses, it glimmered like it belonged there. Her aunt's hands coming to rest upon her relaxed shoulders, approval radiating in the depth of her eyes, "Perfect...a perfect fit for the perfect Princess."

"I am not a Princess tonight."

"You have always been a Princess by rite of birth, tonight you will be a Princess by virtue; a Princess in deed as well as name. It matters not what capacity you serve your people as long as you serve them as they do you."

Renata gazed into the mirror; she was willing to do that, to pay any price to do that, "I am ready..."


It was better late than never to have your prayers answered...

Ilker thought with immense satisfaction. The Gods would continue to bestow their favor upon Crell Monferaigne, upon him but they demanded a price, a price he was only too willing to pay. The Valkyrie and mortal Einherjar would wage a battle on his behalf, they'd spare Crell Monferaigne from the scourge of the Undead, the protective Covenant would be renewed but for a blood price. Odin wanted a life, a specific sacrifice, they wanted Renata, his virgin niece and they wanted her, wanted this done this evening.

It was a shame she was so liked, so loved or he might have actually done the deed himself as he had once before but there was nothing to change that. To kill Renata even with Odin's blessing would be viewed by others as political assassination. The deed had to be done discreetly, in fact Odin expressed a wish for the sacrifice to be voluntary, to give it meaning, to give it true power. That meant completing the farce of tonight's celebrations, the illusion that Renata's own religious reign would be beginning when in fact her life was slated to end.

Fingers slipped into his royal robes, touching the beads of Odin's Favor, he was sure once Renata received its commands, Odin's command through it she would obey it. Her faith made her very blind to a fault. He stepped into the carriage, immediately it rolled onward towards the public square leaving him to engineer a few discreet scenarios to see the deed done if Renata would not, a few names flipping through his mind, names of individuals who'd silence her without question. By the time he got there he was relatively sure that the probability of success was great enough that by the end of the night he'd be celebrating a full victory that he had long awaited and desired.


For his moment of obstinate impatience, Brahms ended up paying the price the rest of the damn day, his skin stinging as it stretched taut across his muscled body. The sun had done more than singe, it had charred him, the pain biting through him at every movement but it was more bearable to suffer it than doing nothing. Even if every step was torture it felt better to be moving onward. The catacombs were cramped for how many undead were traversing its passages, a hiss coming from him at any contact with his skin, even the heavy cool and moist air prickled his irritated skin instead of soothing its burn. Despite popular belief vampires could weather daylight but only in ever so brief amounts, the older the vampire, the longer they exist away from sunlight the more serious the ultraviolet burn, the less time they can weather it without being burnt down to ash.

A large part of him was shocked he had managed it, that all of them had, no elder had been lost to him for the stupid feat they attempted. Shade had been a salvation but unlike in caves once they were out in the open, exposed even if they sought cover it didn't completely protect them from the sun. In daylight, reflective surfaces like water reflected the sunlight around and even cloud cover could trap sunlight, it made for a hostile environment to weather and move in, yet they had managed it. It was a promising start to the mission even if they'd have to heal; he couldn't count their blessings not until he saw how many of his elders survived the coming battle. It was a suicide in itself for them to approach the enemy crippled by severe pain, a factor which affected their mobility greatly. They still had the element of surprise perhaps that would help them in getting the drop on their sustenance.

Already Rufus and Alicia had split off, taking some of the younger blood with them topside, the youngest of the race would be able to blend within the crowds and take shelter from the sun easily within the shadows of the buildings and temples. Until they'd reached a straightforward stretch of the catacombs Lezard had remained to guide him and a majority of both elders and primes - vampires who were not yet old or powerful enough to be elders nor were young and inexperienced as fledglings. Primes were the middle-aged, he hoped to keep their causalities' down. The primes made up a large portion of their combat force, give or take a couple centuries they'd all grow into their power and ascend to be a numerous population of threatening elders. That was always the catch, turning them was easy keeping them alive long enough to truly grow into their potential was the trouble. One elder could be worth at least thirty fledglings when it came to turning the tide in a battle.

When they'd reached the straightforward stretch of the catacombs he'd taken Lezard aside, instructing him to split up and team up with the others topside, "If she is going to be here I want her taken down," he spoke of Hrist Valkyrie, frankly he knew she'd likely make an appearance but he didn't want her confronting Alicia and Rufus with only fledglings to guard their back, no they needed Lezard a lot more than he did. Alicia, the girl had already suffered through enough, she'd been a stalwart ally even if she wasn't quite on their par when it came to skill in weaponry not to the degree Rufus, Lezard, and himself were. It had been by hopeful necessity that he'd recovered Alicia to keep Rufus at his side, sadly it had been a ideal way to recruit Rufus for the rebellion against Odin, to get the elf to fight for his own aims but also because he had hoped that the former Princess might act as a restorative catalyst when it came to the host remembering its previous life as Silmeria. It was wrong to use her in such a way even if Alicia knew and hoped for the same, nevertheless he couldn't allow anything to happen to Alicia again – Silmeria would never forgive him nor would Rufus. If Alicia died a second time she'd be damned, and Rufus would not stop hunting him until one of them was dead.

All the more reason to make sure they were successful, to make sure this was the last time they'd try to do something so foolish but what choice was left to them? None.

He kept that in mind as they rose from the catacombs, stepping level onto dark streets, the only light was provided by lanterns which were casting a nice, full glow over what appeared to be a relatively abandoned housing district. At least until he heard footsteps, heavy with mortal clumsiness, his blood thirst instantly clawed into his gut reminding him of the fact he needed to feed, to recover, to heal. He didn't need to bare his fangs, all the vampires knew their place: he was their King and his needs came first. The mortal male seemed to notice their presence without realizing the danger at first, "Oh, are you visitors?" he frowned, "the public celebration, the induction ceremony is taking place before the palace to the North District of…"

Although every impulse in him wanted to fall upon the male he paused, practicing restraint just long enough to glean whatever he could out of him. The male however seemed to notice their strange outward appearances, the strange way their pale skin was wrinkled from their blisters, his eyes widening as he stumbled backwards. Brahms lunged forward, his claws instantly closing around the throat crushing the unvoiced cry of alarm to a dead rattle. The wind pipe caved in as his fangs tore into the neck to sever the vocal chords. His grip calmed as he realized the mortal was dead, dead weight in his grip. The threat of exposure was past; giving way to the taste of mortal's blood upon his lips and fangs, the warm cascade staining his fingers. His eyes narrowed into predatory slits, lips brought down to fasten upon the man's neck, cradling his limp body in his arms not willing to waste a single drop of his life-giving elixir. As he fed he felt his skin smooth out to a pure shade of muscled alabaster, his blisters melting away into smooth seamless, perfectly health skin.

Brahms drank his fill of the man, nearly drinking his corpse dry of blood before he passed it off to another, a secret part of him disgusted by the necessity of killing the man. He hadn't planned on that, it didn't matter that the mortal had faith in the wrong kind, faith in a bastard like Odin; it was still no reason to kill him. It wasn't like confronting the Dark Valkyrie who knew the wrongs of the system but believed the ends justified the means, that the Gods had right to do whatever wanted regardless whether it was right or wrong. No, it had been necessity in a different way, the man could've ruined everything, even though he was so powerless when personally compared to ANY of the vampires before him in that moment Brahms had registered him as a threat and dispatched him before he could become one.

Brahms looked back to see an elder female upon the mortal's neck, feeding off of his leftovers, her claws were closed over the throat, her lips a fierce suction while her clawed fingers eased the blood to flow to the neck. Her eyes rose to meet his own, licking her lips with a discreet grace, it was barely noticeable. As she pushed herself up Brahms' eyes went from her down to the mortal.

The innocent were always the first to be consumed, why was that? The first victim out of many tonight, he supposed, nevertheless it was fitting to get the unpleasant part of his invasion out of the way and get things started. A moral compass was never a good thing to have when it would weaken you, when others would kill you regardless of whether you had it or not. No, there was no room for him, for any of them to extend mercy this evening. Everyone in this city was their enemy, no mercy or quarter would be given to them. It is us or them, and he was going to make sure it was them…


Crell Monferaigne - the Holy City, a city that was visibly thriving under the favor of the Gods yet a problem lingered near, the Undead lingered near. Lenneth wasn't even entirely sure which lure pulled her stronger: the impending fate of the chosen joining her Einherjar or the Undead themselves. Lenneth turned her intense blue gaze upon the proceedings, upon her mark with an eye for criticism and critique. The pale beauty was wonderful. So young, that was Lenneth's first impression when she had scryed her through spirit, so young it was almost tragic that death was coming to her so early in life but she was worthy indeed.

Lenneth was a goddess of fate, it wasn't for her to dictate the where and when of Renata's death, that task belonged to Hel. As Chooser of the Slain, hers lay in deciding the fate of the departed souls after death that alone made many proclaim her 'death goddess' – the comparison was unflattering but it did not make her dislike her duty in the least. Let the living curse her name in ignorance, she knew who and what she was, the deserving accompanied her for a time then spent the rest of their days in paradise, the undeserving joined a TRUE death goddess and learned the difference. After death, Renata would belong in Valhalla, she would do well there.

In her best finery she was elegant to even Lenneth's eye – there was a natural beauty that needed little accentuation to make her lovely. The subtle set of her shoulder made her look brave, ready to face the best and worse life had to offer in an instant. Her pure, clear eyes showed keen intellect – their depth radiating a resourceful nature and astute mind. A general sense of loyalty permeated every pore of her moral being – to Odin such obedience was a prize beyond measure. She was even a trifle sacrificing, not overly so to the point of being self-destructive but enough for the trait to seem admirable, clearly she was more noble of spirit than she was in wealth. It was rare indeed when the fortunate truly served the greater good, many times those who possessed wealth never used it to help any save themselves but this one truly did. It was more than Lenneth could say about her recently departed predecessor. The previous High Priest of Crell Monferaigne had been a miserly old fool who ambitions had been seen to fruition at the expense of the peasant congregations. By contrast Renata seemed altogether modest…

The train of her robes and gown were both of a modest length, no great fortune being put to purchase or amass great amounts of grand or costly fabric in an effort to show off. As Renata walked at a stately and serene pace through the streets, she went by a group of children, all vying and squabbling silently amongst themselves from the sidelines for a view of her. A girl fell, landing upon her train, nearly tripping the princess up from behind, she stopped and turned her gaze upon the girl as both parents came up to reclaim their child with mortified apologies flying from their lips. They were silenced in an instant when she raised her hand, palm up flat in their direction before she walked towards the children.

If there was much to be said she was just, she offered gentle admonishments to the older boys responsible for the little girl's tumble before turning to the girl. The Princess graced the terrified youth with a demure smile of reassurance before offering her a hand in getting to her feet. The girl took it clearly neither the girl nor her parents willing to offer insult by refusing the help. Then she kindly asked the little girl to accompany her to the front, to carrying her train to prevent any more such accidents despite how unlikely it was there would be any more of them. The shy girl squeaked an affirmative and joined Renata upon the remainder of her walk forward. The crowd visibly relaxed and the ceremony continued as if nothing had happened.

Compassionate, kind as well, it reminded Lenneth of her younger sister – Silmeria, of what she had heard of her younger sister if the widespread rumors about Silmeria's innate kindness were indeed true. She hoped they were, Lenneth would never likely meet either of her sisters in the flesh because of the fact only one Valkyrie was active upon Midgard at once. It meant rumors were the only input she had to go on, the closest she'd get to knowing OF them. She would never truly know them personally, she knew it and long ago accepted that fact but still she wanted to believe that the both of them were of good dispositions or at least as fair as she was.

By the time they the Princess and her 'attendant' had made their way to the altar, to the end of the procession the girl's fear had ebbed giving way to bubbling excitement which was only too clear in the way she rushed back to her parents all the while bragging to her brothers after she'd received both a personal blessing and a kind dismissal from the Princess Renata. The stray thoughts of her own sisters were thoughts Lenneth never should have languished in, it was a momentary lapse of attention, a personal weakness she hated herself for, for that became the moment the undead chose to strike.

Lenneth vaulted downward towards the fray erupting below her vantage point in an instant, uncharacteristically single-minded in her pursuit of the undead. She was eager to do away with their presence, so eager that the trajectory of a spell's path missed her notice. It collided with her, knocking the wind out of her, knocking her out of the air and onto the roof of a house. As she lunged to her feet she saw a dark figure approaching her, his outline visible against the light of the full moon, "My apologies," in almost nervous gesture she saw him use his index finger to press the bridge of his glasses up his nose, a smile that was almost charming falling upon his lips as he surveyed her, his obvious delight in seeing her almost made her feel unclean, "pardon me, Lady Lenneth, may I cut in?"


As shadow danced at the edge of her periphery it seemed petty, not to mention inappropriate, to turn to her uncle and say 'I told you so'

Renata immediately flew into action before half of the guard realized what was going on, she didn't have time to spell it out for them. Her right hand tore a bow out of one of the guard's hands, her left gripping a hold of an arrow from the quiver at the guardsman's waist while she interposed herself between her uncle and the threat, moments later the arrow was embedded dead center in a vampire's chest, right in the heart. She threw the bow back at the guard, unwilling to deprive him of a weapon when he needed to defend himself with so many threats nearby. The guards swarmed around her as she searched for a weapon, her eyes falling upon a nearby surface where a curved artful ceremonial blade was laid out, sheathed but a feasible weapon, one she could use to defend herself with. She ripped it out of its sheath in one smooth, fluid motion instantly throwing it in a graceful arc in the forehead of a second vampire.

A third vampire jumped down to confront her as she bent down to retrieve the weapon, grabbing her left wrist in an attempt to subdue her from behind. A good attempt but altogether useless, she steeled her shoulders, pivoting as she charged, throwing all her weight into her charge as her hand tightened on the blade's hilt pulling it free of the undead corpse swinging it until it was embedded in flesh at the base of the third vampire's neck, only a few short minutes away from being a new corpse if not for the fact she had a few questions to ask, "Why are you here?"

The vampire's eyes flared vivid crimson at the sound of her voice, fangs bared into a snarl as it hissed in pain at the holy blade at its neck.

Wrong answer, she thought, digging it in deeper and satisfied to hear an outcry of pain as its lips peeled away from serrated inhumane fangs, "Speak quickly now or die that much sooner."

It choked out an answer of two words, "You! Valkyrie!" it made the last word sound like the gravest of insults.

Renata recoiled as if shocked by the use of such a term or name especially when applied to her – a loyal servant of the Gods, absolutely but a goddess herself, pure and utter heresy, absolutely UN-true. She had pride but even she was not that full of herself not enough to commit such blasphemy, she hoped no others heard such an epithet directed at her, it was sacrilegious nonsense but still enough to condemn her if others heard her referred as a goddess within flesh, a legendary battle maiden of lore.

The result was instantaneous; she followed her planned intent to the letter. Eyes flared into flinty orbs the EXACT color of bluebell flames, left hand tightening a hold on the vampire's hair while her right directed the blade to sink forward through flesh, bone, sinew, and spine severing its head resolutely much in the way she wanted to sever its lying tongue. Fastidious breath came through her nostrils, she was beyond incensed by the audacity of this attack but for them to say it was motivated, caused by her, for her - that was too much, too far!

Anger wasn't allowed to fester long, she felt a hand pulling at her shoulder, pulling her away from engaging another vampire and another and another until they were all gone from this place, from her home. Shock went through her as she heard a human snarl at her ear from behind, it sounded almost displeased as she couldn't understand the why of it, "Get out of here!"

Renata reared back, pulling her shoulder out of the grasp, blunt human teeth bared in a snarl of her own, "NO! I can fight!"

"You will NOT!" the voice was so familiar in anger, in rage that she realized suddenly that she'd spoken thusly to her uncle - the King, his word was still absolute, still law even over her. She'd forgotten herself in her battle induced rage, was it any wonder why the lunatic vampire had thought her to be an immortal goddess of battle upon his own deathbed, with one foot in his unholy grave in crossing her path, in challenging her like this? At once she recovered as much of her sense and composure as she could, sure that she looked more the part of undead hellion than the High Priestess she was. Her uncle must've of noticed, "Get her out of here!" his tone disgusted, hands pulling at her and pushing her at his own private guard.

"No!" she instantly steeled herself in challenge, the thought of being utterly useless like the rest of the noblewomen repugnant beyond measure.

"My lady," the tone was the most soothing and delightful she'd ever heard, like silken fur against satin skin. A long time ago she fancied marrying the one who belonged to that voice, growing old hearing that voice, she still fancied Zadkiel despite the fact of his half-noble bastard pedigree, no way the nobility would allow THAT beside her on the throne but he was still the one who held her dreams when it came to the choice of a male. She was relatively sure that the attraction was mutual, that she could have him if she wanted him. Zadkiel had sworn to be her champion before they'd been let out of their nurseries, he'd been head of her guard since she'd first warranted such personal protection, "we really should get you and the Queen Mother," her aunt, "out of here."

Still reluctant to agree she nevertheless nodded in assent to his logic sure that now was not the time to contest her uncle's will and rouse his own volatile temper. Unfortunately it seemed like they already did that, her uncle glaring lividly at Zadkiel as if he'd gone over his head in getting her to listen, to agree to suggestive logic over her King's command. In a way, Zadkiel had, in showing her uncle that his words had more meaning, more weight than his own as family member or ruler.

"That will be all, KNIGHT," that was an insult since Zadkiel could hold no greater rank than his own of Paladin. Zadkiel didn't rise to such bait, just bowed his head as if he'd received the greatest of compliments instead of the gravest of insults, "With your leave, my lord..."

"No! My own personal guard will see to the protection of my own family. You will stay here to be of and render service!"

A glance to Renata, as her champion alone he owed his loyalty more to her than their own King meaning he needed her blessing to be dismissed from attending to her own protection in favor of other tasks or orders. Renata feared for his life if he did not heed or obey the King so she assented wordlessly, watching in utter silence as Zadkiel strode away, almost instantly absorbed by the chaos of the battle surrounding them on all sides save at their backs. Others were not so lucky to have at least one direction open and safe, she cursed the presence of that openness for it was meant for her retreat. Her heart felt like it had sunk into her gut, ready to be carved out if anything should happen to Zadkiel personally.

"Here!" she turned and was pleasantly surprised to see him extending Odin's Favor out to her, "regardless of formality it is your right to have this as your own possession now. Pray for us all, High Priestess."

Humbled by his own humble display, his change of heart, she nodded, "I intend to. Uncle, I know you and I don't always see eye to eye but know that I love you."

In that moment King Ilker looked like he'd been struck across the face with a stick or fist, stricken with a private weariness, "I know," tone as ashen as his face, "now, GO!"

She did.


As reluctant as he had been to acquiesce at the time it was proposed Brahms was glad he had not been amongst the first to confront Renata seen as the three who thus far tried – two primes and one elder, were now dead as a result. A part of him, the one that was Vampire King, wanted to gnash his teeth over the losses but another part, the male within him, had to admire the dangerous beauty of her battle rage, the nigh effortless way she'd dispatched them. If things continued like this for long it would be more costly to take her alive and despite his threats his people might choose to attempt to kill her out of survival. He couldn't, wouldn't let that have a chance of happening; he charged in her direction, going after her in her retreat and was gratified to see that they'd made his job easier. Isolating her by removing her from the fray AND a majority of her guard, it couldn't have gone better unless he planned it himself, paltry security and all.

His feet bounded over the rooftops without sound, the height of the buildings gave him the advantage of a better view of the surrounding area: its threats, its advantages, and most of all - his prey. If he was on the street, level with them he'd possibly be able to be ambushed, picked off since he was on his own. Sounds from behind made him turn and he realized he was not alone, not having to go this on his own. Nevertheless his first impulse was to make them realize that this was HIS hunt, a snarl leaping to his lips revealing fangs bared, ready for any challenge. With none forthcoming his eyes turned back to the group, his vampires watching and waiting for the command, for when to leap into action and hunt. Without having to think he declared the scarlet clad huntress as his own prey, none were to touch or approach Renata, she was his.

As for the rest of the guard he didn't much care about them, it was all the better if he didn't have to waste his time dealing with the small details of dispatching their annoying presence. How long did he have to get Renata and get her out of here before Odin ordered the strike that would kill her? That would see another innocent host slain? Brahms did not intend to find out. A hiss came out through his bared fangs; it was too silent for the mortal guards to hear it but just audible to his own vampires. At that moment his quarry turned, the piercing azure fire of her eyes gazing out as if searching for them in the darkness. Brahms relaxed, relieved when he realized that she could sense their proximity but not direction or number but within moments he cursed taking comfort upon that fact, she still roused alarm in the guards, "Undead, they approach!"

It was a costly mistake, a mistake made over the course of a few short seconds but it was enough, enough time for the mortals - obviously their best, time enough to draw weapons and turn upon the first vampires to heed and jump down at his command. Nothing could be done to restore the primes struck down before their time; now that the mistake was made he could only keep it from exacerbating further into something out of his control. He jumped down, several elders had already helped themselves to the soldiers who'd downed the primes, having used their unfortunate lessers as a means for distraction, a means to distract the humans long enough for them to subdue, feed, and grow stronger. It was the one true advantage the vampires had - to grow stronger in the face of their enemies' weakness.

Brahms fist closed around the helmed head of the leader, the crude strength of his palm contracting the metal inward upon the head, the action wrung a strangled breath accompanied by a desperate and blind swing at the Vampire King's midriff. Instinctively he jumped back, his tactic of using the helm to crush the skull inward under pressure changing in an instant. His grip upon the head never broke but instead of putting all his strength inward upon the helm he gripped a hold of the mortal's head, his strength going into picking up the mortal with effortless ease by his head. The neck instantly snapped under the pressure of such a movement, the hand's grip upon the blade slackening. Brahms dropped the dead weight to the side of the street as he heard the tensile sound of a bow being release, going off in his direction. His gaze snapped in the direction of the sound, realizing an arrow was still a threat even if it was a small one.

His claws snagged the arrow out of the air; a rare feeling of panic going through him as he realized that the thick crude stake of wood and silver held enchantments, infused with the power of true faith and it was only a few centimeters short of his skin, the point was just short of its surface. Alarm went up through him, he didn't even need to look up to know who had fired the shot but he needed the confirmation. Renata. Her perfect mouth was curved in an incensed scowl of fury at her shot being a waste, at being denied his life but she turned, pushing a matronly noblewoman before her up the stairs of the palace before fleeing. Devoid of protection even the Princess realized it was folly to stay, to try to take them all on but for a moment longer Brahms was shocked, so shocked it took him a few moment to resume chase but resumed it he did.


To protect - that was Renata's first instinct, if the Undead were after anything it would be to make anarchy and chaos out of this night, to cause widespread terror upon what should have been a nice of peace and celebration. How quickly all those expectations had fallen apart, no one would rest in peace this evening, none save the undead that were killed. A smile came to her lips at the thought of her own death count before she'd been sent away. Her blood boiled at the thought of leaving the King, not seeing to his protection herself when they were sure to be after his life but a part of her sadly registered the fact she had no right to demand to be present. She was no longer a soldier, she was a veteran - a soldier in the past but right now she was civilian and skills aside she was a liability they had to protect as well. A fine job they had done of that, the entire guard that had accompanied them slaughtered despite the warning she'd given them. Truly it was humiliating that the King's Guard was subdued so easily, easily enough that their 'charges' or a 'charge' had to take arms to protect another charge.

Within a few moments Renata realized that she couldn't trust her own or her aunt's safety to them. Entrusting Odin's Favor to the Queen, she'd recovered a bow from the dead; there was no way she'd risk getting blood upon the artifact or defiling it by touching it while she touched the dead. In those few minutes she only managed a few shots but it was enough to make several back off. It was strange; they fell upon and challenged the guard yet backed off when it came to her? It was as if they were restraining themselves, purposefully choosing not to cross path or touch her. Devoid of other targets she'd turned her attention upon the monstrous bulk of a fierce male.

It was a shame that he was a corpse, his paleness proclaimed him for what he was but still even her eyes had to admire him. Every part of him from his mane of hair to the tips of his toes seemed to radiate pure masculinity, the best example of it she'd ever seen. It was a shame he was dead, it was QUITE obvious why he'd been turned and she'd bet good money that his vampiric sire wasn't a sire at all but a dam, a female. She almost wasted a moment to be jealous before she remembered the fact that it wouldn't matter, he would be dead this night and at her hand, the worse she'd have to contemplate was confronting said bitch in a fit of vengeance. As she angled the bow down upon where his husk of a heart laid her eyes couldn't help but appraise the smooth expanse of muscles along that open chest. If they weren't enemies she almost had the impulse to run her hands over that open skin to see if they were really 'real', seen as he was an inhuman monster it was likely a fringe benefit he'd gotten in the transition from human to not so human, to becoming something not remotely human.

Renata had seen hesitation kill others so she didn't practice it herself even though she wanted one more moment to devote to gazing at him, admiring him as one would a wolf. This male was clearly a danger to her but there was a predatory intent and nature she had to respect, that she craved to see one last time before she'd slay him. Her control snapped the impulse in half and her arrow flew but by that time his inhumane reflexes had allowed him to catch it. Shock forced the breath clean out of her, he'd caught it but her alarm came from the way his crimson eyes met her. From the beginning she'd wanted to look defiantly into those crimson depths but she'd rejected the foolishness of that, afraid that if those crimson eyes consumed her she'd never claw her way out of them. Her legs seemed to falter as if dead, useless weight under the scrutiny of his gaze, all that was left to her and all she was able to do was stumble. Her hand came to rest upon her aunt's arm, using it to steady her as she pulled herself out of the mire of his eyes. Damn, they should have been repugnant to her but they were lovely and much like quicksand - captivating and nigh impossible to escape. It took great effort to snap free before his pupils could tighten on the sight of her, great effort to keep her eyes from wandering back to his - half pulling her aunt, half dragging herself as they rushed the remainder of the way into the palace, "Bar those doors, NOW!"

She didn't waste time to look around for anyone or any guards, hoping and assuming that some were present. There were several guards and even a few alarmed servants through their weight into pushing the massive doors closed and slamming the bar down just in time for the wood to shudder and absorb the weight of an impact from the outside. A foreign fear curled through her as her eyes remained riveted upon the door, to see if it would hold out - it did.


Something unexplainable happened to her, came over to her as the beads brushed over her soft palms. Evadne's perfect fingers curled around the pearls, eyes closing as if to ponder for understanding the impulse suddenly flung upon her, an impulse that never would have crossed her mind on its own - to kill, to kill Renata. A part of her rebelled, trying to throw the impulse aside as panic rose inside her. As the panic rose the thought returned, rearing its ugly head.

They have come here for her...

The more she tried to deny it, the more it made sense. There had been little to mistake of what she'd seen just now in the street, that vampire had wanted her own niece. His whole body had tensed up, his eyes widened, fangs bared as if he'd seen a ghost in seeing Renata before him. Still yet there were other small clues that nagged at her attention: why had they attacked tonight, why had they attacked in the middle of the ceremony rather than the celebrations, why had they targeted the altar if it wasn't to kill the true leaders of Crell Monferaigne. Their actions truly puzzled her, Evadne was not like Renata, she was no battle ready Priestess but she had plenty of time to observe what was going on around her, it was what she did best, it is what she'd done the whole of her life – watched and waited.

Evadne could not begin to fathom why they'd attacked during the formalities instead of attacking when everyone's minds were slow with drink and light on their feet in the midst of dance, that could have been hindsight that they didn't take advantage of but once the fight erupted it became obvious that their intent was skewed towards the front. Renata had been amongst the first to act, slaying those who dropped down but they away came at Renata, ALWAYS near Renata. It was absurd to be affronted by the idea that her husband and her didn't warrant much of their attention but even once everyone had been roused they continued to focus on the front, throwing themselves into the fray but they weren't throwing their lives at King Ilker's hands, no, they were throwing themselves at Renata. Then wasn't there the fact of what Evadne had been told, what she'd seen this evening? Renata herself had told her the undead approach, Evadne had seen the awareness of the Undead's presence in her eyes twice and it had been eerie as Hel.

Undeniably the Undead had some sort of fascination with Renata, that and for a long time Evadne had been coming to the slow realization that Renata held some connection with the undead through her ability alone. Whether it was god-given or not the ability was a perverse curse if it meant attracting the undead, a curse better purged from Renata than sustained even if it meant her death in the process. And how far back did the interest of the Undead in Renata go? If the undead had truly wanted Renata, how plausible it could be that Renata had been the target of the attack upon Aredhel. A shiver went down her spine, that attack had happened a mere couple of days after Renata's birth, had they attacked Aredhel in the hopes they might claim the child within her womb, prematurely?

Her resolve hardened, the undead took EVERYTHING from her but she'd rather Renata be taken by her own hand than allow the Undead to have the only thing left to her. The betrayal would hurt, it would kill her to kill Renata but maybe at last there could be peace at the end. Renata would be beyond the reach of the Undead and for herself, she'd finally be free. If Renata was gone then there would be nothing left for her in this life, she could finally lie down and accept the death she'd desired for so very long. No more humiliation or hatred to endure. Evadne's hand tightened on the ceremonial dagger that Renata had handed her with Odin's Favor. While she'd been lost in her thoughts, it had been like sleep walking, walking in the physical world but her mind had been elsewhere, a far away elsewhere. The Queen's eyes blinked as she realized they were alone, alone in a dark room, the wide open expanse of a ballroom almost between them before Renata had turned around to glance at her.

"You are unharmed?" the girl's voice was a shock to hear but as was typical for Renata her tone was unshaken.

"I am," her own was soft and numb; Evadne was trying to work up her nerve as she crossed the room. Silently she wished it hadn't come to all this, Renata turned her back to her, visibly she was looking outside the windows, ever-vigilant about the threats that could be outside but never suspecting that she would be one, she though bleakly. Evadne inhaled deep in silence, her fingers brushing the golden tresses out of the way of the heart flesh. She wanted her blow to be quick; painless it would be crude enough just based on the fact that Evadne did not know how to use a weapon she handled now, contemplated using now. It was the strangest impulse but somehow she couldn't stand the thought of Renata's hair being bloodstained, her own hands but not Renata's hair. A new wave of remorse went through her, not the hair she'd brushed and seen grown out throughout the course of this young woman's life.

No more delays, she thought as she leveled the blade in line with Renata's heart from behind, there is no way she'd be able to face her and do the act – it HAD to be from behind but it never happened. Glass shattered in an instant but even though she was aware of it, it felt like it took both her and Renata time to react to it, the time was too long. Evadne felt a hand tear through her body, shattering her rib cage and shredding an entire lung. The blow sent her into instant shock but still she felt a vengeful, painful grip throw her down upon the floor, showing no care whatsoever in how she landed. Evadne struggled to breathe around the red ruin of her torso but in a spiteful instance her hand pushed the blade across the floor to Renata's feet, Odin's Favor was entwined and tangled in the hilt. Amongst the last moment of her live, their eyes met but Evadne struggled to bring out her words before she could depart this life, "Odin awaits…"

The metallic weapon made a scraping sound that the undead seemed to follow, in an instant he was done dealing with her and going after Renata next. Evadne's last thoughts were hoping that Renata was with her, to meet her on the other side.


Odin awaits…

It took her a moment to realize it wasn't some mad rambling done upon her death; it was a message, a message of last resort. Her eyes widened in immediate understanding but just as swiftly she felt dwarfed by the weight of what it demanded, what kind of sacrifice was expected of her. It was humiliating that she didn't act upon it at once, that she even felt she had to think upon it but it was easier to say she'd adhere to such a wish than it was ever easy to actually do it, to follow through with. Fingers curled around the hilt and she pulled back from the Undead, it was the same one as before, she shot him a defiant look, raising it above her chest, knowing she'd need the height and distance of the blade away from her chest to get it through her ribs. Her hands folded against the dagger, pointing in inward with a steady grip as she brought it down without pause or hesitation. Once the blade's descent started she knew she had to keep it going to get it through her chest cavity, into the heart but it seemed like it would never reach its mark and it never did.

Whispered words broke her contemplative silence – half-statement, half-plead, "I don't want to die!" it seemed as if it was coming over great distance, confronting greater resistance as it came closer and closer. However, every resistance it met only made the original voice, its plea, stronger. Other voices joined and echoing the first as the thought stretched outward like ripples in a pond – small at the source, growing larger the more it extended out.

It made her freeze, looking around for the source even though instinctively she thought she'd heard it in her mind; it was all in her head. It was enough to make her stop the blade's progression, the thought that she might be killing someone in killing herself. Clawed hands closed around her wrists yanking them apart and pushing the blade away from her. It took her a moment to think herself down, the idea of sharing her body with anyone was absurd and it was a trick – a vampire's trick, she thought with particular venom when she found one standing before her, holding her captive with eyes full of rage and fear?

Renata understood the first but not the second, frankly she wasn't sure if the undead were smart enough to understand the notion of 'fear' but she was NOT going to be any mortal toy to a vampire or worse, transition into an undead herself. The vampire was struggling to get the blade to where it pointed away from her own body, he was rather successful in that but he failed to notice what she did, the blade was almost perfectly poised for her to charge and turn it upon him instead. Her mouth curved into a snarl and instantly she pushed all her weight into getting the blade to sink down into him. The fact she was able to push it down at all, against his vampire's strength was evidence that she'd gotten the drop on him, that he had not been expecting her to attempt to gut him if she couldn't gut herself. Even long after he easily stopped her progress she continued to try to drive that blade down into him. His fangs bared into an almost amused smile moments before that descended hard upon her own. Renata went rigid in his grasp, a tremor going through her at his tongue pierced and penetrated into her mouth, heady feelings instantly chasing away her sense, her logic, all the all-so-important things that make up one's judgment.

She'd never been kissed before.

The sensation of it was near powerful enough to make her fall head of heels dizzy within mere minutes, mute with wonderment. The instant their lips touched who or what they were didn't matter, the kiss had chemistry, one that made no sense nor did it need to in that moment. A pure spike of undeniable pleasure tore through her as her lips parted to his questing tongue, originating between her legs, a delightful instantaneous spark that branched out to suffuse every nerve - significant and insignificant. Delicious heat melted between them as his tongue stroked her slowly, intimately; the feeling of that mere brush of his rough velvet muscle traveling deep beneath her skin, it sent a shiver through her along with the stupid impulse to give in, to allow her feet to collapse so she could melt into that tempting embrace of his. It was too late for her by the time she realized, when she realized that she'd given in, given herself over to the Vampire King.

Startled at once she looked up into his eyes and read no death for her in those eyes but there was something else there - possession, there was no escape for her either...

What had she done?


A/N: This is the LONGEST CHAPTER EVER, by the time I got done with it I was like HOLY CRAP over 10,000 words! Trouble was all this stuff was ALREADY pushed back from last chapter and I didn't feel like splitting ANOTHER chapter in half. They are like freaking CELLS! They keep dividing and multiplying xD.

I HATED Evadne's point of view, she just came off as super messed up, I mean I know you have to be messed up in the head to want to kill your niece out of some paranoid ideology that psycho undead are after them but she didn't come off as QUITE what I thought she'd be like. *le sigh*