AN: I know I kinda rushed the ending of last chapter, but I'm actually ok with it. I mean, I guess I could have spaced the deaths out a bit more, or done them a bit better, but overall I thought it was good, considering it was my fourth try at the same scene. Also, I'm really sorry about the insane time it took making this chapter. I normally only do about 2k-4k words, but to make up for it this chapter is 12k, almost 13k words long. So it took about 6 times as long to make a chapter 6 times longer than normal. Chapters after this will not be this long, but they will certainly be longer than 4k. Plus, being a senior going to college means life kills my writing time, so please forgive if it is a bit before ch13 comes out. Also, points to whoever points out the Ghost B.C. reference(s) in this chapter. Thanks for taking the time to read and review if you do, and enjoy!
Ch 12: Dead
Rowan awoke in cries of fear and pain, throwing herself out of her bed in a jumble of sheets, the dried blood and ash coating her skin a new array of colors. She nearly screamed again as she crawled backwards out of the covers, back hitting the wall at the sights of blood and ash, coloring her skin red and black and grey and evil in purpose. She nearly cried for Angela as the thoughts broke through her mind, the memories of last night digging between her eyes as she cried again, unable to stop it. Grace would have done it silently but intently for it meant she would push herself a thousand times more to get over it, and Rina would have swore vengeance and blood and so many other things. She did, in fact, the memory of her cries to the high heavens being of holy punishment and not divine protection. Angela had done the exact opposite, asking the god she had called upon for protection and safety in the afterlife, tears of joy at what was instead of tears at what is. Her mother would cry silently, cherishing memory but accepting reality.
Rowan would do none of these things, crying about the past but loudly, little shakes and shudders and spikes of pain wrecking her small body as she couldn't stop herself. Yesterday, the pain had been too much, there had been too much of everything. Too much noise, too much death, too much blood. Now there was nothing, a void in place of the everything of the last day. She had to remind herself it had been night, and today was the first of the new year.
It felt wrong, empty, too cold, too much silence. She had to fill it, and her cries weren't working. Her tears did not wash away anything, only made the stinging in her cheeks return and the pain in her chest grow and the little knives of regret and sorrow and pain rushing through her go faster. It didn't fill the void. It only made it worse.
Her tears eventually dried up, as she leaned back, her mind numb but active, sorting through everything. She was alone, at the mercy of some man named Balron, who had killed her family and was a servant of Lord Dagon probably, who had orchestrated this whole thing. She was alone with no staff, no help, nothing. She had no money to her name, no kingdom by which to rule, no one who could resist the reality that was her own. She had her blood and ash and fire smelling self and possibly the clothes in her closet and whatever she had left as her own possibly. It was a long drop from where she had been, where it felt like the world would one day belong to her possibly. From everything to nothing, from the pinnacle to the pit. It was a long way down, as they say.
She slowly got up, feeling weak. Sleep at first didn't seem so bad. She took one weak step before she was dropped to her knees, dream memories burst forward again, regrets and possibility, the cold pulling her mind from fire and into the knowledge it was too cold to sleep as she brushed memories off again. She didn't want to remember, didn't want to think. She wanted to be dead, but knew they couldn't have died for nothing. They wouldn't have died for nothing. If nothing else, she would take Balron out with her. She would be vengeance, and take him just as he took her family, and bring him to the deepest level of hell with her. Death didn't seem so bad if she brought him with her. It even seemed appropriate, in a twisted way.
She slowly got to her feet, stumbling over to the fireplace, taking several trips and scratches along the way to the cold place. Only ashes and the burnt husk of a single log remained. She had been hoping it hadn't been out for long. Her next stop was the door, which she tried to push open like every other day of her life, like when Grace and Rina and mother and Angela were alive. But they weren't, and the door wouldn't budge. The door wouldn't budge…
A stab of fear slid into her chest, as she tried again, the door remaining firmly shut. She used both hands, and then her whole body. The door stood as strong as it ever had, but stubbornly shut. She tried once more, with a running start. The door jumped a bit, but not anymore than any other time. There was a burst of pain in her shoulder, as she held back the gasp of pain that nearly burst past her lips. She shuddered and slowly turned around, heading back to her bed, deciding that it wasn't a good idea to jostle her shoulder if she could. It still hurt, and not just the echoes of pain but current pain, like someone was digging a knife into it from behind.
She gently laid in bed, on her left side so her right shoulder would be up in the air and not pressing on the mattress. She curled up, not grabbing sheets or blankets, only using a pillow as she shivered and held back tears of pain, the shivering making her shoulder worse and the cold wasn't numbing it but rather making her shiver worse, a cycle of pain like the echoes in her heart.
She waited for what felt like eternity, the window of her room showing that the sun was slowly done rising, and she shivered as she slowly froze to what felt like death. She started to grow numb, the pinpricks that ran along her small form growing more numerous and deeper until that's all there was, creeping deeper and deeper. She feared her soul would freeze before she was released. If this was her captors plan, to let her freeze to death, she would have rather ran herself on that blade rather than run away. Better to die with her sisters than wait for one of the gods of death, whichever one found her most appealing, to come and take her away. She wondered which one took them away, her family. She hoped it was one of the nice ones who brought them to the gods to be loved and beheld.
It was only when she felt herself stop shivering at the cold did someone open the door, a maid that had once been Rina's. She was average looking, a bit thicker than normal if anything had to be mentioned. She looked around, before opening the door more and motioning Rowan along. Rowan struggled up, careful as she can to not move her bad shoulder as she obediently followed the woman out. No words were spoken, Rowan holding one arm across her chest, shuddering. It was understood, to be silent. Everyone lost someone in the attack, and what impact could words have that silence couldn't?
The hallways were only slightly better than her room. The stairs were evil, each step sending a near silent gasp past her lips as her shoulder shifted. She never really appreciated how big her home had been until now, where each step brought a new pain to be experienced in turn.
She was lead, slowly, to the servants wash area. A large set of fires was heating water, buckets on the side for gathering hot water, and small tubs. She looked up at the servant, but a shake of her head told her that she would not bath her, and she quickly looked around. She cleared her throat, looking down at the princess.
"Lord Balron has requested your presence in the dining room tonight, and requests that you be cleaned. He also has demanded that you work in the staff." She said easily, the respectful tone she once held slipping a bit, for it was no longer Rowan she obeyed, but a new man who had spared her life. Understandable, really. Who was Rowan now but a little girl, taken in for an unknown reason?
Rowan nodded once, as the woman turned and walked off quickly. Rowan slipped off her dress, or what remained of it, and threw it into a pile with the rest. She noticed the blood and ash stains were really common amongst the survivor's clothes, and suspected they would all be burned away. Blood was already complicated to get out, and ash probably made it worse.
The washroom of the servants was pretty common, at least to her. A mostly empty hall with doors at both ends. The other door at the end lead to the quarters of the servants, and she had to think of why she wasn't living with them now. Well, maybe it was too soon to think that. The rest of the hall was filled with large flat buckets lining the wall and large cauldrons of boiling water with a small fire underneath. The stones were almost burning under her feet, compared to the rest of the journey here. There were a dozen or so people in here, all nude like she was now, all washing quickly, turning greys and reds back to normal skin tones.
She meandered over to the cauldrons, finding a small bucket beside one that was mostly full. She used her right arm to cover herself as best as possible as she drew herself some water with her left, barely able to carry the bucket. While she slowly took her water to the nearest large bucket. She noticed so many people watching her from the corner of their eyes. They used to work for her and her family, and now they had not been protected like she promised, like her family had promised.
She drug the bucket up slowly, and into the bin she went, carefully bringing the bucket up to her chest. She couldn't raise it higher, as that would require both arms and her right was currently out of commision. She brought it up to about her chest, and carefully used her right hand to tilt the bucket slowly, letting the cooling water rush over her thin form, taking with it as much blood and ash that still caked her skin as it could. She sighed at the blissful warmth, taking in how the pins and needles reversed their movements, and it was painful but it was worth it. She emptied the bucket bit by bit, getting all her sides that she could and using her hands to pick at the pieces of blood and streaks of ash that just wouldn't come off. The dried blood reminded her of scabs, flicking off her bit by bit and thankfully revealing skin, not unprotected flesh.
She soon stepped out of the basin, noting how her feet were black and red and dirty from the water. She carefully used the last inches of water in her bucket on her feet, leaving one foot on the edge and carefully pouring with her right, holding back cries. She finished getting them clean, before slowly returning to the cauldron, setting the bucket down. She bent back up, noticing one of the other servants coming to her. It was probably one of Grace's handmaid's, or her mother's.
"Girl, why did you not clean your hair? You look like a mess." She said easily with a huff, towering over the kid. Rowan had to look up at her, craning her neck to see her face. She had thick brown hair that reached down to her chest, and she was thin like herself. Her voice held none of the previous respect it once would have, but that wasn't a concern at the second.
"I can't move the bucket that high." Rowan said truthfully, cowering under that gaze. The woman didn't budge, nor back down to her near mortification. After years of being helped, it was a bit of a shock to see such blatant disrespect. It was one thing not to say something respectfully, that wasn't Rowan's thing either, but to openly look down on a princess, even Rowan, was new to the girl.
"That is a lie, you are young and healthy. Do so, now." The woman said, handing Rowan a full bucket. Rowan grabbed it with one hand, her left, raising it to her chest, as that was about as far as she could with one arm, and it was a strain. "Both arms, girl." The woman said, looking around. Rowan did note the small tinge of fear in her voice, and could only think on how bad Balron must be to already strike fear in people who displeased him. Rowan slowly grabbed the handle with her right hand, forcing it up a few more inches as she strained not to whimper at the burst of pain. It was almost eye level, but was jostling heavily, and she had to not cry out heavily.
"Higher, over your head." The woman demanded, and Rowan tried. She really did. She got it up to eye level and an inch above before she let out a soft cry of pain, dropping it with her right as it dropped dead at her side, the bucket swinging away with her left hand, down and splashing water over her legs. She couldn't look up, only looking at her shoulder which throbbed and echoed in pain.
"Girl, what is wrong with you?" The woman asked, and Rowan finally found her voice again, realising the room was silent now, all eyes turned on the princess who failed at something as simple as raising a bucket of water.
"My shoulder hurts really bad, I can't move it much." She said, not looking up at the woman. She felt herself curl slightly to try and avoid her gaze, not liking it much at all.
"Do you need someone to look at it?" She asked, and at Rowans small nod, she sighed, nodding as she pulled Rowan over to a stack of clean clothes, throwing something much too large over her and sliding into something herself before sliding out of the room, guiding the wounded child to the medic guard who had lived. They went out of the other door, and Rowan bowed her head at the looks she received as they passed the others, having picked the door closest to the entrance.
The man was average looking, blond hair cut close to his head, a soldier's body, as he looked over her shoulder, tapping and watching as Rowan gasped and whimper. He nodded once at the other woman, who held Rowan close. Rowan tried not to struggle too much, but it hurt like hell.
"Ok, hold her still." He said, and raised up Rowans arm much to her protests. The woman kept Rowan as still as she could while Rowan struggled, crying out in pain. The soldier gave no heed, straightening the arm straight out before pushing in suddenly, a loud pop forming in her body as something slid back into place. Rowan couldn't help the tears of pain, though it did start to lesson bit by bit, til it was just a dull ache. She pulled back her arm finally, noting that while it still was painful to move, it wasn't as bad as before.
"There, don't strain it too much, if you can get some salve use it sparingly, and bandage it if you want. It should be fine eventually." The soldier said. This was how he would address a soldier, one who understand what happened and why, but that was all he knew. Rowan nodded once, understanding as she was lead away, back to her room. Inside was the first woman this morning, one of Rina's, who was stroking up a fire.
"Ok, you're somewhat clean. Come over here." She commanded, not sounding all that kind. Word travels fast amongst the staff. Rowan walked over as quickly as she dared, enjoying the warmth of the fire as she saw a small pot of water with some very strange plants boiling in it. Rowan was sat down, and her dress removed as the servant used a pad and some large tongs to remove the small pot, setting it on the pad and grabbing a sponge. She then went to work, scrubbing Rowan clean in every place she could reach and into places Rowan never knew she had, rubbing pale skin pink and nearly burning her. Her hair was drawn back roughly, and doused in water to keep it down, and every inch soon started to hurt, especially her right shoulder.
"This is going to be the only time I do this for you, Rowan. At least, the only time for free. You are no longer royalty. The Harkon line is dead." Rowan could only dully note the fact that they knew the truth about her, and found the hollowness she had felt before not there. Her father may not have been her father, but her mother was still her mother and, while her sisters may only be half by blood were still full by heart. "The only reason I'm doing this now is because you have never done this before, because you have been pampered by your family. Master Balron has spared all our lives, and the naga have left. His own family has taken residence, and they are now the rulers of this land. You are a servant now. And we servants stick together. We cover for eachother, work with each other, and we reap the same benefits. No one is higher than another." Rowan nodded, as her fingers were brushed over again, getting them nice and clean. She was about to speak up about it, but she was cut off.
"The only reason I'm doing this, again, is because you are arrogant, and we do not have time to teach you. Balron has requested you by his side tonight, and I shudder at what for, but he has demanded you to be perfectly clean and dressed well. I don't want you thinking you are equal to him, because you're not. I hate the man, but I understand my position. You understand yours as well. Everyday you will be awake by noon and out doing work with the rest of us. You will talk to me about what to do each day, because I organize everything. You will do your task, and do it well, then come back here and clean yourself, and show up for master Balron as called. I expect you to be in bed by dawn." She said, rather quickly. Rowan was lucky to have caught it all, as it was reminiscent of how Rina talked when she was nervous, spewing and repeating instead of stopping and thinking.
"You will get up, and the door will be unlocked. I heard you banging this morning, and I guess that's why you talked to Gregory earlier, but that is Balron's orders. I will wake you up tomorrow if you sleep in, but after that you are on your own. You will then go and get clean with the other servants like you did earlier, and then you will come to me for work, and then you will come back here. I will leave the tongs and pad, and the fire will still be going when you come back, but you will need to bring a pot of water and grab some of the plants from the reserve and put them in and let them boil. You will scrub every inch, and then you will get out something nice on and wait for Balron in the dining hall. You will be served breakfast with him, I suppose, but I do not know. And then you will stay by his side unless he dismisses you. Confirm, and I mean it when I say confirm it, with him. I do not think he will like his staff leaving without his notice. If he dismisses you, come back to me for more work. If he does not, do as he says. If he asks for something you can not get or prepare or such, get word to the people who need to know. You should know most of them, anyways. Do as he says, and then at lunch stay by his side. If he did dismiss you, and when you finish with the work, come back here and make sure you are still clean. His orders, again. He may dismiss you right before lunch. If he does, just return here and wait or wait in the hall. Then after lunch you will do the same thing as before, come to me and do more work or be by his side and do his work and then back here and down to dinner, and then back here. Before you go to bed, take the pot and dump the water out your window. Throw the plant husks out as well. Then set the pot outside your door. Then brush your hair and keep yourself nice and pretty then go to bed. I will have someone come around and collect the pot and lock your door, his orders again, and then you will sleep until noon and do it me, what is your schedule?" The woman demanded, having been scrubbing Rowan's sides and back for all of this.
"Wake up at noon, wash in servants quarters, find you and get some work. Then scrub." She said, and at her stern look Rowan backtracked. "Get some water and plants, boil THEN scrub, report for breakfast with the new….master, then obey him. Do as he asks, then make sure I'm clean right before lunch. And then obey him until supper, then come to you again or clean again, then report for supper and then obey him until I am dismissed, then get the pot, empty it, and go to bed. All while day and night are inverted" Rowan said, trying to shorten the long list of chores and schedule she had. And the fact that it was approaching evening and they were talking about breakfast.
"And if Master Balron dismisses you?" She asked, and her relieved grin showed that Rowan was doing the right thing, at least for her. Rowan felt a stab, somewhere in her chest, as she thought of this woman's risk in helping her.
"I come find you and do chores until the next meal, report for the meal." Rowan said, slowly wrapping her head around it. It wasn't too much different from her last few years, where she would wash and learn and wash and eat and learn or hang with 'Bon and then wash for supper. Just some chores and more cleaning in between.
"Good girl. Now, if you can't find me talk to Richton and help with whatever he can think of. Remember to get the plants from the reserve, it's the only plant we have in abundance and is labeled with the symbol for ocean. Obey anyone in the house who asks anything from you, and I mean ANYTHING, and never complain or blame. They really don't like that. Do all of this and you'll get to live, just like the rest of us." The woman spoke fast, and Rowan felt a tinge of guilt at how their lives must have gotten a lot harder since the takeover.
"What's your name? I never saw you much, you were Rina's handmaid though, right?" Rowan asked, going on a limb here. The woman stopped for a second, silent and unmoving before she went back to scrubbing, making sure rowan was pink.
"Yes, I am Adria, I was her's." She said, cold and snappy, just like Rina was when she wasn't angry. Rowan didn't ask any more, knowing how she had probably hit a nerve, waiting as Adria finished, getting up. "Find a nice dress, and report down to the dinning hall, and wait for breakfast. Be nice, and behave." She demanded, watching Rowan, who nodded. Adria took a look around, before turning to leave.
"So why am I still in my room? Shouldn't I move into the servants quarters?" Rowan asked, getting the older servant to freeze in thought, and almost mid step. Rowan feared she would rush out without answering, but this was important to her.
"Master Balron insisted you be here, for your own protection." Adria said, though this was only half true. The truth was that the restructuring and take over of the kingdom had not and still isn't going smoothly. So many loved peace, that they turned to war to stop war. And when word spread the royal family was dead, it sparked rebellion against the invaders. To know one of the royal family, directly connected as well, may be alive would spark another rebellion. In conquering, it would be best if there was no rebellion. Plus there was also something to be said about her not being broken in yet so she needed to be watched carefully until such time, but Rowan didn't need to be told such things. Adria quickly left, not wanting to be there any longer, having to make sure all was running smoothly. Rowan could only ponder what she was told, but shrugged it off. Her shoulder was still aching, and she was starving now that she had a moment to relax.
Rowan took it all in, moving to her closet. A few dozen dresses and her play clothes, all her worldly possessions now. She found a simple purple one, getting it on and looking in the mirror. Normally, she would have someone tighten it up for her, but she had no one. She reached back, bareilly finding the hidden strings and started to pull. It took some wiggling and error, but it was eventually satisfactory in tightness. She brushed her hair back, remembering when Angela would do it for her with that little wise smile of hers. Rowan held back the tear that started to form, reality cooling her and hardening her sadly. Her rage was like magma, reality the ocean it fell into, hardening and solidifying it but taking all the heat from it. It had been a day since her family had been gone, not even 24 hours, yet reality had struck her empty, cold and black and hollow. She had already ran out of tears, and it had been so soon. Such a shame.
She eventually left her room, rolling her shoulder. It hurt, really really hurt, but the pain was doable, and not even that bad if she had someone to talk to. She quickly went down to the dinning hall, so normal and simple it was like she was coming down for supper with the then living family, but was nearly worried upon seeing no one there. She nearly took her usual spot, right near the head of the table, but stopped. This wasn't her spot anymore. This was barely even her home anymore, and only by the technicality of still being wanted. But she should be grateful, she wasn't out in the cold. Or dead.
She moved away from the table taking a post where she had seen servants when she came down every morning for breakfast. She fidgeted on her feet for what felt like hours, before Balron entered the room, from the direction her mother used to everyday for every other day of her life. Rowan had to hold back a sniffle, going dead silent. She lowered her head as a sign of respect, noticing that there was someone with Balron. And he wasn't in his orange cloak anymore. She resisted for a few seconds, before finally looking up to look at her 'master' and who else was with him.
Balron was in a simple black set of clothes, what would normally be tight instead were loose looking on him. He walked with the grace of a cat, like this had always been his home. He casually sat on the head spot, where only women have sat before, where the queen was supposed to sit. Where every queen had sat since time before Rowan even knew of. On his arm was someone who looked similar to him. Long shiny red hair that shone with the light, pale skin, bright red eyes to match his own. They looked like they could be siblings, but a chaste kiss from him to her banished that thought.
Balron snapped his fingers, and Rowan looked around real quickly, seeing no one before realizing he wanted her by his side. She hurried over, and at his pointing she sat in the spot to his left, looking down but in his general direction. This was how a servant always looked to a royal, no matter how cruel or kind. Bowed head to show respect but in the general direction to show who was referring to her.
"You have to admit darling, she is just precious." Balron said, trying to impress the girl on his arm. She hummed, moving slowly, and Rowan had to not shudder at the soft purring the new master of the manor gave out, and the slow way the woman grinded on him gently, before two sharp points slid under her chin, making her look up. They felt like they would draw blood if they pushed any harder.
The woman was only a few inches away, looking her over. Up close, Rowan could see the little details. Her eyes weren't scarlet, but a deeper ruby red, almost the same dark shade as her lips. Her skin wasn't pure white, but certainly pale. Like she never saw sunlight, not by birth. Twin fangs graced those perfect lips, and her slim tongue slid out and across those two lips as she inspected Rowan. Rowan tried to do nothing, letting the woman stare. She could see the darker veins, just below the surface. They faded away from afar, but so close they were impossible to miss.
After a few minutes, she slid back across Balron, getting a purr and his hands on her for his efforts. He kissed her gently, pulling her attention away. A few others had walked in, looking similar to Balron but not as much as the woman. All were pale, in darker clothes, though gender, hairstyle, and hair color separated them all, differentiated them.
It was only the smell of blood told her they were all vampires. If she hadn't been scrubbed down to near pink and the scent of blood wasn't so familiar to her now, she would have never known. But it was there, stinking her home to high heavens. Then the food was brought out, meats just like she always loved. That was new, but delightful rather than depressing, but not much else. It had always been balanced, but this was mostly meat things.
The breakfast started, sausages and a small side of eggs is what she got, only taking after everyone else and only after a nod from Balron.A servant ate only after the masters, but apparently she was given the grace to eat with, touching if not from her disdain of them. She ate slowly, noticing how at ease everyone else was, how they chatted and planned, laughed and joked like this was their home. Rowan finished her small plate silently, only taking a small portion and not daring to speak. She would have rather had some of that spicy meat, but would she dare even speak in the presence of these monsters? Dare she risk acknowledgement? She dared not, not wanting their eyes on her, and she had already felt few. She dared not think of piquing their interest anymore.
"Darling, what's her name?" The woman asked, having stayed in her seat, which of course had been Master Balron's lap, her arms now around his neck as she relaxed. Rowan nearly stopped breathing, just going stock still but not raising her eyes to look at the woman, her fork planted firmly in a piece of meat. She had hoped to be ignored by them all, to be the ghost at this table, but that was not to be the case.
"Actually, she is need of a new name. I'll let you pick one later" Balron murmured softly, keeping his arms around her as he tried to distract her from Rowan with a kiss. Rowan could only think of a man talking down to a pet. Rowan slowly started eating again, the two vampires sharing a kiss and not noticing her. Good. The less Rowan was saw, and the less she was called upon, the better. She knew they were vampires, if not by the looks and the smells, then by the drinks that went around the table.
Rowan never really liked wine, even when everyone was alive, but she knew what it tasted like. And the single sip she had told her it was wine, but only partially. It was thicker, warmer, and had a spine shivering texture and taste. Blood mixed with wine. Rowan didn't want to think it, but she had to wonder whose blood was in her cup. It would probably haunt her that night when the thought of Barbontas suddenly shot across her mind, before it was firmly squashed, burned and buried. She would not believe she was drinking blood of her friend, it was probably just from a guard or servant other than Barbontas.
She would rather believe he had gotten out, had escaped and was telling the world and would gather help. Even if no one wanted to help her personally, the kingdom would be wealthy and prosperous and very enticing. And with a war going on, it had only been the alliances and neutrality her mother had made and her grandmother and so on that no one had attacked besides the Naga. But now a very aggressive yet divided enemy held the biggest trading country around. It all sounded like one of Angela's stories, but it was her hope that they would eventually find real resistance, and they would die, and she would be free.
Freedom. It had only been a day, not even that, and she wanted to taste it again. She wanted to be angry and upset and sad and everything else, but all she was in reality was cold and hopeful, hopeful that she would be saved and Balron would be killed so that she and Barbontas could find each other and live peacefully, their own little happy ever after, just like Angela's stories where the hero lives and is rich and enjoys the fruits of his labor. And if he was dead? Well, Rowan would happily join him and her family in the next life when Balron was finally gone. And Rowan would do it herself, if she could get to that point.
Breakfast during the afternoon went by fast, and Balron and the woman by his side quickly left. Rowan took a look around, seeing how the others were still eating, and Rowan slowly sat up, remembering the woman's words. Adria's words. Follow Balron and obey unless dismissed. Simple enough. She quickly hurried after the two, trying not to make a sound. If they didn't' notice her much, she wouldn't be required to do much. With her bad shoulder, she doubted she could do anything else today besides standing around and sending out orders.
They soon came to her mother's and previously her father's old study. The fire was lit, the place looked mostly the same overall. No major changes besides the chained up man by the chair, who looked an inch from death. A guard, probably. Bite marks littered his body, and dried blood made lines around his form like a barbarian in the tales, but he was dying. You didn't have to be a doctor to know that, to know he was low on blood, to know he lost so much so quickly it was amazing he was still alive.
Rowan almost had a tear, knowing he had served her and her family and they had failed him and his trust and promise to protect and to be protected and the knowledge that this shouldn't have happened and yet it did altogether did nothing for him now, just leaving him there to slowly be drank to death. And as if to prove her right, Master Balron sat in the chair and pulled the man's arm up. The woman sat on Balron's lap, and as if casually she sunk her teeth into the given wrist. The guard groaned, either in pain or some twisted pleasure as more of him was drained away. She pulled off after a second, licking her lips but not doing anything to the twin lines of blood that ran down her chin. She kissed Balron, and judging by the way the blood was coming out of the corner of his mouth too they were sharing.
Rowan nearly lost her late breakfast at that, hand over her mouth as she tried to stay quiet. It was all too much, and the fact these two monsters did it so lovingly and playfully and as if the man didn't matter left her nearly sick. She forced it down, shuddering and holding herself as the fire didn't seem so warm anymore. She moved over to the man and woman, careful not to look at the poor guard as she stepped forward. If she dared look at him, dared even acknowledge him she would lose it.
"M...M..Master Balron." She timidly whispered, and at seeing how it didn't kill her nor did he react at all from the bloody kiss, she pulled herself just that much more together before trying again. "Master Balron." She spoke, a bit louder this time, the words not as poisonous in her mouth as she expected. It didn't leave a good taste, but it was doable. He finally seemed to notice, as he pulled back slowly from the woman, who was quick to lean in and lick up the twin lines of red off his face.
"Yes girl?" He asked, looking annoyed if anything else, the woman laying her head on his chest and turning to Rowan, who nearly turned to jelly under her gaze, but couldn't help the shaking of her legs.
"Do you need anything...sir?" She asked, lowering her gaze as Balron sighed. It wasn't very audible or loud, but with only her breathing, her heartbeat that seemed to break her ribs, and the crackling of the fire it was very loud in comparison. She nearly died right there and then, her revenge unfulfilled as she waited for his response.
"No, I do not. You are dismissed." Balron spoke, waving her off and Rowan was quick to nod and turn around, but stopped as she heard a single word. It wasn't what was said, but who and how.
"Wait." The woman sighed out, eyes half lidded as she slowly got up, moving to Rowan who had to bite her tongue to keep from cursing. She had been doing so good since she was a kid, since before even Barbontas. She used to sprout unpleasant words that had annoyed Angela so much, that a few words and strong emphasis was all it took to get Rowan to stop cursing, but without her she had to stop them from escaping once again.
Rowan slowly turned around, hands behind her back again as she looked at the woman, holding back a screech of fear at her dark eyes, the pale skin that, in some light looked perfect but like it was, blood covering her lips and chin and veins bursting around her face gave a startling mask for the child to try and not cringe at. The woman leaned down, and she knew Balron's eyes were not on her but rather something of the woman's. Rowan leaned back, and could only widen her eyes as a set of wet lips found her own, nearly spewing her breakfast as a tongue found its way into her own mouth. They were gone as soon as they appeared, and Rowan could barelly stop herself from raising her dress and using it to wipe away the trail of blood that not covered her lower face, nearly crying from it.
"You weren't kidding, she certainly is sweet." The woman teased, and Rowan understood it was just for the woman's perverse desires, it was to tease the man she now called master. The woman turned and waved Rowan off, going back to the man who only looked more predatory at that. Rowan couldn't stop herself from running out of the room, making sure she slammed the door as she scrubbed at her lips and chin with her dress, trying to get the memory of the kiss out of her mind just like the blood that was staining her own pale skin.
She nearly cried again, everything building up again before she silently burned it all again. She couldn't break down now, never. Not until Balron was dead and she found Barbontas. She spat a few times, getting some of the taste out as she rushed to the kitchen, needing to ask where Adria was and get a drink of something that wasn't blood. Plus Richton was nice, he would be there. The more familiar faces she surrounded herself with, the better. She was quick to run that direction, stopping only once to empty a bit of herself out into a bucket, not able to hold it back. The taste of bile was only slightly better than the blood.
The kitchen was not as buzzing as she remembered, but a massacre would do that. Richton was still bossing people around, but he was cooking some kind of meat and saucing it up very gently, though it wasn't out of care but rather the wound across his gut, which was bandaged heavily as she walked up to him silently.
"Richton!" She chimed, the dwarf turning to her with a slight grin, almost a grimace as her smile dropped, and she saw the heavy red stains across his eyes and down his cheeks, and she understood. He suddenly grabbed her, pulling her into a hug. She slowly wrapped her arms around him, burying her face into his beard and letting a few of the generated tears slip. She didn't have a lot, but the few she did she spilled with him. Besides Barbontas and Richton, she had no one, and while he may have had a few others still alive, he lost her mother. They had been friends since they were kids, just like Rowan and 'Bon. Rowan couldn't even think he was dead, and never would she think he was. He had lost her, lost Loriana, and it hurt him. Deeply.
They stayed like that for a few seconds, him building himself back up and Rowan letting some of the quick wall she built between herself and the tragedy break down just a bit. Then he pulled back, drying his tears as he held her arm, and she used her dress arm to wipe away the liquid that dripped down her face. He sighed, and she could clearly smell the scent of smoke, blood, and spice on him. The first two were new, but the third was constant. Everytime she talked to him, passed him, anything, it was always spices. Sometimes alcohol beneath, or cooked meat, or sometimes the various other dishes he made. He was soon well again, coughing once or twice to clear his chest.
"Rowan! How are you my girl?" He asked, trying to sound happy, or at least content. But his voice was shaky, wavering. She wouldn't have came if she knew he was this bad off, knowing he wouldn't be able to pull himself together so easily and she probably just undone all the work he had completed mentally, but Rowan wasn't so deep in thinking.
"Well, I was coming to get a drink and then find Adria. You know where she is?" Rowan asked, attempting a small smile. It failed, she could feel it. More like a grimace than anything, because it brought back thoughts of Balron's girl and what she did and why she couldn't have just let them continue and not bother them.
"Yeah, basin in the back with fresh, and she should be cleaning Rina's room, try there." He spoke, and she nodded, heading to the back as he went back to his meat, burying himself into his work for a new, crueler master. Rowan found the stone basin, using a wooden cup to get a few drinks before spitting out what taste of bile and blood she could, taking a few more before going back, seeing him hard at work she left Richton again. Heading down to Rina's room, she passed the banner her and Barbontas put up so long ago, and was tempted to sneak back in and hide away, but knew it wouldn't be good. She didn't even open the way in, rushing past to get her work. A look out a window nearby showed the sun had set and that she should be grabbing that bucket and getting it boiling as she was told, to get it ready by the 'lunch', despite it was going to be late enough for sleeping for most people.
She made up her mind, rushing down to the store rooms to get some of the plants, then a small pot of water. It went by really fast, honestly. The pot was easy to find, as it was near her door, and the plants in the storerooms was very simple, some green wet plant that smelled faintly sweet. She grabbed a handful, and filled the pot with water before running up to her room again, taking the pot and putting it in place of the old one, taking the plants and just throwing them inside. She took the old one, trying to decide what to do with it, before opening the only window she had. The cold air washed over her, and the fire quivered. The castle was surprisingly warm now, as she guessed so many fires were being lit that the heat was finally expanding and heating the place up.
That or Balron was doing something, he seemed the magic type for certain, and didn't he do something magical. Rowan had to really think on the, scrapping the pot clean and closing the window quick. She was nearly scared to find she couldn't tell. The memory was blank. The more she tried to recall, the more smoke and confusion clouded the memory. Like it wasn't even there. She pushed it off, just like everything else. She couldn't break down, couldn't stop, couldn't cry much anymore. If she did she would act, and if she acted she wouldn't think, and if she didn't think she would get herself killed, and if she died she would never see her friend again.
She didn't want to live if he wasn't with her, but she didn't want to die if there was a possibility she was leaving him behind. She turned to the fire, seeing how it was dim. She would have to ask about that, see if she was allowed to keep some logs in her room, and some way to light them. While she understood people were still doing it for her, she knew it would need frequent extra fuel and cleaning for all the extra use it would be needing. If it was just to keep the room warm, a light fire would do, but to boil the water and plants it needed to be hotter, which used more wood and kindling.
Rowan was nearly baking, being this close to the fire as she watched it, searing the image of it in her mind. The flickering light was nice, was perfect. A heat that found itself growing hotter and hotter. She sighed, closing her eyes as she stretched up, the ache in her body easing with the heat, which baked her and made her sweat and feel somewhat alive. It was as if she was finally waking up, heating up. She quickly took a peak at the water, seeing the first few bubbles as she slipped out of her dress. A bit bloody, with a few tear marks and blood stains and bile. She didn't want to see it anymore, and looked out at her closet, bundling up the offending piece of clothing and throwing it into the back, pulling out a new dress. Another slim thing, just blue in color. She quickly counted what she had. The dress on her, the bloody one, and seven others, plus a few fancy looking clothes and a small stash of peasant clothes and simple stuff. Enough for a fortnights worth of clothes before a full wash. Good. She had an intuition to follow now. Something that had started nagging in her mind as she watched the fire. A piece that was lost, now found. An intuition. A memory long since forgotten remembered.
She went to her bed, shoving the top piece off, the top bed part falling off. It was heavy and dragged, but when it was off it revealed the sturdy middle. Lying in the middle, a simple book of tough black leather bound with a symbol of a peaceful god, the symbol of Pelor, god of the sun and healing and so much more, a golden sun with a face in the middle, staring out.
Her journal. Missing for what felt like years, but no more. Maybe it had always been there, and she never fully shoved her bed off to find it. Maybe it was magic. Maybe it was divine. The journal was filled with a lot of symbols of hope and sleep. Maybe some god brought it back, to make things right again. Maybe it was Pelor himself, since the sun was the enemy of vampires. Maybe it was her imagination, but regardless here it was again. She knew it had slipped off her bed more than a year ago, but somehow it had found its way between the parts.
She pulled it to her, tracing the symbol on the front. She remembered who Pelor was, when Angela told her and gave her the journal. A once peaceful god of justice and hope who grew harsh and became wrathful, a soft glow of dawn and healing light but also a spear of lightning and heat and destruction to pierce the darkness. Hope wasn't just a shining light to guide a path, it was also a sword to slay her enemies. She nodded once, opening the cover. His face stared at her, golden hair and white robed, holding a bolt of light like it was tangible, hovering in the sky. She remembered now, the story of the first vampire.
Very long story short, evil magicians turned from his holy light in the pursuit of darker magic. As punishment, he turned them into vampires, and would forgive them should they be im. The trick was that it would hurt them to do so, forcing them to forsake the possibility of power and face pain and burning to be forgiven. Non did so, and since then the vampires and their spawn have been enemies of Pelor.
So be it. She would be his light, his sword to pierce into his enemies, for they were her enemies as well. He had blessed her with this book, in a sense. Whether he brought it to her or not was not what gave it the ability to banish the darkness that had invaded her sleep for years when written within. Even if it wasn't directly thanks to him, he still deserves the thanks. Mayaheine was one of his demigods, who stood for justice and valor. Saint Bane, who hunted the undead. Pelor hated darkness, and violence, but when used against evil it was acceptable. So be it. She looked at the book, grabbing it and holding the thing close to her chest.
She sighed, looking at the water, then sat the book on her stand. She forced herself up and picked the mattress up, forcing the mattress back up into its place as she stripped out of the last of her clothes, using the tongs to pull the pot out and use the cloth to start scrubbing.
She went nowhere near as rough as Adria did, cleaning herself as best as she could, noting how fragrant yet empty the scent the water had was. It was nice, but the kind of nice you just write off as it wasn't that nice. She made sure she was doused in it, setting the pot by the door to cool as she grabbed a pillow, sitting in front of the fire to get dry and warm, seeing the dress she had been trying out earlier still on her bed. After a few minutes, she grabbed the dress and got dressed again, sighing as she tightened it slowly, looking formal again. She brushed her hair back, as she went down to wait again by the table, seeing as how she had nothing else to do. Adria would be annoyed she wasn't sought out, but Rowan now had a firm stance on her situation, a fire in her heart. That was worth the older servant's annoyance. She grabbed her book on the way out, slipping it back under a pillow.
The table was empty, but just barely, one of the cooks cleaning it off quickly before scurrying back to the kitchen. She waited by the wall, back in her usual spot. It was soon the first new vampire up close came into the room, taking his seat near the end of the table, rubbing the side of his head. He was pale, but not as much as Balron or his woman. Short, cropped black hair that barely touched his ears, slim as he sat with a sigh, looking annoyed. Rowan stood waiting, mostly for her 'master' so she could take her spot and eat. However, he wasn't showing up yet, and the longer she waited in here alone with this man the more nervous she got.
"Girl, come here." The man called, wincing as if speaking hurt him as much as Rowan did from listening to his voice. It was rough and somewhere between simmering with hate and calm with contempt. She hurried over, remembering Adria's words. Obey them all, basically, but obey Balron most. She hurried over, and he motioned her down. She bent a bit, getting close. He smelt of wine and blood, but unlike Balron who smelled of blood first and then other, he smelled of wine mostly with a tinge of blood. It was sickly smelling, but somewhat wecomed. "Girl, go to the kitchen and get me a cup and a bottle of the special wine." He breathed quietly, not wincing from speaking this time. She nodded, hurrying up and to the kitchen, feeling his eyes on her the whole way.
A few words to a passing kitchen boy got her the two goods and she hurried back, setting the cup on the counter and, with a look when she sat the bottle on the table, poured him the wine. It was smooth, yet she could smell the blood. She was careful not to spill it, knowing some nobles got mad when a servant got clumsy. He waited, then grabbed the cup and drained it quickly, setting it down slowly and she quickly refilled it. She knew this kind of drinking, wanting not the taste but the affect.
"What's your name girly?" He asked, and Rowan cringed at his eyes. Bloodshot, and a cloudy grey and red, as she had to steady herself, finishing filling his glass before pulling back. He grabbed it, drinking again but a bit slower.
"Rowan, sir…"She dropped off, both to end her speech and to get his name, filling his cup a bit faster as he set it down. Rowan had forgotten how Balron had wanted to get her a new name, only knowing she wanted to move away from the man. After an additional pour, she began noting the bottle was about a forth of the way empty already. That was worrying, but wasn't the most worrying. No one else had entered the hall yet, and she didn't like the way he was looking at her.
"Ambrose. Just Ambrose." He said, draining his cup again and setting it down, and she filled it. And so went the cycle, him drinking and her refilling before Balron arrived, and she refilled his cup one last time and setting the mostly empty bottle by him before she went back to her spot. She took her seat, sitting by Balron as the woman took her usual spot on Balron's lap, and a few more of these beasts filled out the table. Food was brought out, and more bottles were brought out of the blood wine. Food as well, simple yet tantalizing.
Lunch went by fast, really. Rowan had been thinking all throughout it, just eating bits and pieces throughout, working more on the problem on how to kill these creatures. Sunlight wouldn't directly kill them, but certainly makes the job easier. And slashing through them might work, but there were several things that worked especially well. A stake to the heart, removing body parts, and so much more. But the question was, that sprung up near the end of the meal, how they got in.
Vampires could only enter a home if they had been invited in by someone who lived here. But that also brought the point up of if this was classified as a home. It was much bigger than a normal home, and wasn't lived in exclusively by one family. But that was too easy an answer to assume. And this line of thinking didn't help her in thinking of how to kill them.
When Balron left, Rowan did as well, silent as she could. She sized him up, truely now. She had a fire in her heart, a burning rage at her core that she would use to temper a blade to kill him with. But it was the question of how she would kill him that bothered her. She could barely hold her giant crossbow, wherever that was now. A sword would be impossible to swing around for long, and a smaller one or even a knife would mean she would have to get really close to him to do the deed. He was decently tall, compared to her, and she knew he had magic. So she would have to bid her time until she was able to take him on. Back to the study, previously her mother's, previously her non-father's, now a vampire's.
They had out the tools of counting, two vampires making notes and moving beads. Master Balron sat in his chair, The woman still by his side, feeling him up from all angles. It was kinda creepy and unnerving to the child, but what could she say. Rowan was coming to the certainty that she was a lady of the night, and not of the vampire kind. A whore. But Balron kept her on, so probably his whore. Though that didn't keep the other men's eyes off the slick woman's body.
Balron started talking to one of the counters, a simple looking man she knew was vampiric based on his smile, getting numbers for store rooms and people still living and so much more. Rowan stifled a yawn, realising it was most certainly night now, and that she should be in bed, getting some nice dreams finally with her journal. But she hadn't been dismissed, and she still had work to do afterwards and another meal. Plus the scrubbing and cleaning and so much more. Though on that same point, she did not want to be here, hearing them talk of what was one day supposed to be her fortune with her sisters, hearing how many bodies were being drained and how many were still alive and how many were burned. She noted a man throwing an extra log into the fire, and only hoped some unfortunate kid other than her was cleaning the piping upward. That may be cruel of her, but the smoke smell was going to get to her again if she didn't escape.
"Darling, get us some more wine please." The woman asked, and Rowan looked to her, seeing her stretched across Balron's lap like a cat, and now that she got a good look at her eyes in a new light that wasn't as horrifying as the first time, she saw they were a bit like Ambrose's, cloudy and a bit dull.
"The bloody wine, correct?" Rowan asked, and the woman nodded once, turning around so she was looking at Rowan upside down for a second before she wrapped her arms around Balron's neck, pulling herself back up to his face. Rowan nodded, taking off to grab a bottle of wine and two cups, knowing that if she had one Balron would. It was on her way out that she realised something had been missing. She turned as the door finally closed, seeing a large bloody spot where the guard had previously been, but there was no man in sight. She shuddered, running off to get the stuff as the door closed.
The kitchens were a series of chaos by overwork and subpar labor force. She would have talked to Richton, to skip out on going back to the room, but she couldn't, seeing as he was working on supper. A quick word to a male bareilly out of his teens got her the desired bottle and cups, as the metals clinked together and the bottle was slightly warm in her hands. She hurried back, wanting them pleased and drunk and unknowing of her presence so she might slip out. Entering brought nothing new, the woman still grinding and playing with Balron, trying to get his attention as he talked to the other two, setting out orders and commands. Rowan handed the cup to the woman, filling it. She drank it quickly, before tossing it aside. At her open hand, Rowan gave the bottle, and she quickly opened it and started drinking, before pulling off and offering to Balron. Rowan shuddered, moving over to the side as she waited.
After a while, Rowan kinda went into a lull, finding a nice spot to sit on a counter, waiting to be ordered again. The room was almost suffocatingly warm, and the scent of blood and wine mixed enough that she couldn't breathe without that being all she smelled. She leaned back, waiting, her eyes slowly dropping. And she fell asleep, not even knowing she had done so.
This time, it wasn't nightmares or slaps she was awakened to. It was nothing. One of the other servants had thrown another log onto the fire, and they were still talking, and the whore was asleep on Balron, who was still making comments to the two other vampires. Something about jewels, probably in the vault in the bigger castle in the capital where a lot of big businesses resided. She yawned, silently as she could as she sat up, brushing herself off. She decided now would be a good time to get washed up. She nodded once, as she stepped towards her master.
"Is there anything you require, master Balron?" She asked, and Balron sighed, waving her off like she was more of an annoyance than his personal servant. Rowan obeyed, slipping off to her room. The fog of the study slowly slipped away. She used to find pleasure in that room, the near suffocating heat had been nice without the new mix of blood thay added. The furs used to bring her some playful images, cuddling around them. Now she couldn't even be there without Balron, that beast.
It's strange, even she had to note. As much as this had been, it should have been too much. She should be choking back tears constantly, memories should be leaving her catatonic. But here she was, rather ok after everything. Yes, stressed in theory but rather fine, as she grabbed the pot by her door, rushing down to get it filled. She was sore, but she felt more empty than anything. She was a shadow, really. She couldn't stop thinking yet she was thinking of nothing. She barely realized she was nearing her room with the pot before she touched the door and snapped herself out of herself.
"What's wrong with me?" She muttered, looking down at the water. It vibrated and rippled, warping her pale visage into something unknowing. She sighed, forcing the fog from her mind slowly as she pushed open her door, walking in. She thought about it, and just poured the water into a previous bucket, setting the other two outside. She contemplated kicking them, that seemed appropriate. She should be mad, furious, hating her situation. But she was empty, just like these containers. She pushed them aside with a foot, brushing a strand of golden hair back. She barely noticed the tears as she stepped back into her room, letting the water heat as she stayed in her current dress. She didn't...feel anything, actually.
She didn't fully wash this time, not seeing the point. It's not like Balron or any of the others really cared, just wanting her as an extra drink or something probably, or maybe to reaffirm who ruled the kingdom. It was easier to just take control of the family then replace them. Plus she was young and well liked by the guards, so it might keep the few living ones in line. She slid her clothes back on, finding the little strings a bit faster and pulling them a bit tighter, nodding as she went out again, ready for dinner. She nearly stumbled halfway through the relatively short walk, only just realizing how tired she was.
She knew it made sense, that it would be dawn in a few short hours, and that she was still a kid, that she should be sleeping now. And that the past few days has been exhausting on her. She needed sleep, and a good meal. She had eaten, but not a lot. A soft grumble in her midsection reaffirmed this thought, a sharp pain spiking into her before sliding away. Numbing, for now. She leaned on a wall for a few seconds, groaning softly before forcing herself back up. On her feet. Onward.
The knowledge of how tired one is actually makes one more tired, less energetic as the knowledge itself saps up energy. Soldiers have been known to fight for days longer than they ever could if they could avoid thinking, but the moment one even considers sleeping it's a downward slope. Rowan was feeling this affect as she dredged herself back to the dining hall, a thick scent filling the air. Wine, booze, meat. Lots of cooked meats.
Kitchen servants were running food to the table, one by one. It looked like a feast, and Rowan could only think of one kind of event that required such a meal. Victory. A meal, a feast in celebration of the end of a war, to show one's new position off. Rowan hadn't been to many of these, the kingdom having never been in a war since before the Naga. Rowan and her family had been invited to a few and they have attended fewer than that, usually only with their closest allies when it would be inappropriate not to attend. And that's what this was, really.
The Naga had probably swept through the capital finally, broken into the final vault, defeated the last large force of resistance. But in their place, vampires? Rowan hadn't thought of it, really. But it was confusing. She could understand the Naga wanting to ravage the place. They were scorned and thrown out, yatta yatta. And Balron had been in the final siege. But why leave him the country they so painstakingly destroyed when they wanted resources in the first place.
Ambrose was already at the table, drinking. Rowan stood by the sidelines, not making a noise she could hear. But she apparently made one he could hear, as he snapped his fingers. She waited, seeing no one else. Two more snaps got her to come over, fearing his impatience. A man of higher standing and power demands your attention, you give it. Especially if you are weak enough to be killed like a gnat.
"Why are you here so early, girl?" He demanded in a drunken slur, before finishing his cup. Probably the same that she had gotten him earlier when he had arrived half drunk earlier.
"I was required to, sir." She said, as a memory welled up from deeper in her mind, remembering how the lesser standing court members came earlier, just to secure a spot. "And you, sir?" She asked, going risky here. If he was lower standing, she may not have much to worry about in him. At least, when it came to Balron. She was his personal servant somewhat, and this was a simple court member compared to her. Of course, he could still kill her, but she was betting on this bastardized form of immunity to protect her.
It took him finishing before he sighed, seemingly shrugging off the idea of this being anything other than drunken conversation, like in a lowly pub. "Well, you see, this wine is good shit. And it's mixed with the right amount of blood to make it really good. I'm drinking to my heart's content tonight. We won, and the wine won't last long." He slurred, stopping occasionally but never ending til he filled his cup, drinking again. Ambrose seemed to caught up in his wine to care about her much ast that, and Rowan took off again, back to her post to wait. It felt like forever, and more stabs of hunger sliced into her before more vampires slowly flocked in. And it wasn't long before Balron and the mistress came back from the study, for whatever they were doing wasn't more important than their overall victory. Balron took his seat, the woman on him once more. It was starting to annoy Rowan how the woman attached herself to his lap for some odd reason. He seemed happy about it, though. Disgustingly so.
As the two took their seat, Rowan took her own beside him. Food was covering the table all over, drinks were passed around so happily, so merrily. Balron watched over it all, before tapping the woman, and she pouted. "Sweet Sasha, you have to get up now, it's time." He murmured, and Rowan finally had a name for the woman. The female vampire pouted, but slid off of him slowly, standing by the head seat as Balron got up slowly, seeming more king like than ever before. But that might be because he finally looked serious instead of somewhere between pleasured and troubled.
"Friends, your ears please." he said, his voice louder than as if he had shouted, but his voice had never risen above a simple speaking. The other vampires stopped drinking and talking bit by bit, silence filling the hall where seconds ago laughing and drinking and merriment had been.
"Lord Dagon took this castle two nights ago, and now has also taken this country as his own. The capitol has fallen, and Rilia is his gift to us. It is now ours to rule." He said, his voice echoing as ever face watched his own, every vampire grinning or smiling in some form, each human neutral at best but ranging from shocked to disgusted to even hateful. Rowan forced her eyes downward, a silent prayer bareilly slipping past her lips to the gods above in honor of all those that had been lost or killed because of these people. "You all have been family to me for many years, I still remember each and every one of your turnings, and for your loyalty you shall all be rewarded. Tomorrow we will thrash out all of the details, but tonight we celebrate!" he said, cheers erupting up and down the long table of vampires, as Balron took his spot. This was the signal they all waited for, digging into the food with gusto.
Sasha took her spot back on Balron, and Rowan didn't attempt to show restraint now as she took helpings now, having waited long enough to bareilly be last. Tired, having eaten very little, having her shoulder pushed the wrong way and out of place, all of the bad things that had happened today. They were all pushed away as she got a large plate full, eating quickly. It was all so good, the heavy flavor bursting in her mouth like a dam breaking and letting out the contained river. She ate quickly, only just keeping herself proper and soon even that was pushed away for more food.
It seemed her idea was the same as many all along the table, the cooked meats and wine standing no chance. Rowan didn't touch the wine much, but even she drank more than the other two meals combined. She needed something in her, something to go on. And soon she had finished her glass, along with what felt like her weight in meat. She was starved, and after all her life having food at her beck and call, being hungry was vastly unpleasant compared to the comfort of being full. Sasha and Balron were talking softly to each other, and Rowan was soon ready to head to bed. Curtains had been drawn over the windows, the few that their had been, but light was finally starting to seep through and light the edges. Rowan was struck with a sense of sleep, like a switch as she yawned, a bed suddenly her only desire.
Balron seemed to grin, as he slowly got up, Sasha sliding off of him as he gently tapped Rowan's shoulder. Rowan nodded, not hesitating to finish her wine before heading after him, nearly swaying as he went to a new place, or rather irregular. They weren't heading to the study, but rather to Rowan's room. Rowan could only smile happily at the thought of her bed. Balron opened the door, Sasha on his arm as Rowan nearly wondered in, before she was gently grabbed by the woman. Rowan was jolted out of her sleepy stupor, almost freezing up with fear at being held.
"I thought you said I could name her, darling." Sasha claimed, pouting as she pulled Rowan closer, the little girl not resisting more out of shock and fear than respect. Balron nodded, raising a brow as he rolled a hand. Sasha knelt by Rowan, and started tilting her head and face this way and that, measuring her up. Rowan obeyed each prod and shift, trying not to breath, not to think, not to see the woman. She was beautiful from afar, but just like before, upclose she was drastically scarier. Now those veins from before were more faded, and her skin had a shade more color to it, but it was sickening to know that it was because of someone else's blood that she looked so, that beneath her skin was someone else's life essence that allowed her to live. And that made her all the scarier to the girl.
"Akasha." Sasha finally said, finger nails slowly dragging from Rowan's neck up to her chin, tracing the veins. "Akasha will be her name." She decided, and Balron nodded, Sasha letting Rowan go as the girl stayed there, frozen. A shooing motion from the older woman sent Rowan scampering inside, fearing of making the two mad as her door closed behind her, her room warm and light filled from the dying fire and the start of sun rise through the windows. Rowan heard voices through the door, but her bed was calling her, and she answered the call. She grabbed her journal, so well hidden yet so easy to find, and clutched it close to her chest, falling asleep soon after.
She was Rowan no longer, but Akasha rather. She was no longer princess, but servant now. She would no longer be sitting beside her family, but would soon be avenging them. Sleep soon followed.
