Chapter 16

Another week passed. He wondered if her absence was due to the harsh words they parted on.

It was not until she came to him that he realized his cruelty failed to deter her. Upon seeing her enter the vast room, he stiffened in his chair. Feigning indifference, he nodded in acknowledgement when her grey form swept across the empty space. As always, Pumpkin tottered quickly after her, its squeaking steps echoing off the room's domed ceiling. Her eyes traced his imposing form from head to boot.

"Good evening, Lord Bernhard." Her voice echoed across the room. Without waiting for him to reply, she stopped at the base of the throne's staircase and curtsied. Pumpkin came to a halt close behind her, its shorter frame partially hidden from view like a shadow. "Forgive my absence." She continued softly. "I thought I had displeased you my last visit."

After a deliberately long pause, the red-haired lord cocked his head. Uncertain how to respond, he shifted in his chair. His eyes met hers, the subdued apology reflecting within them betraying his aloof facade. "You could not possibly." His lips formed a small, knowing smirk. "I am pleased by your return."

"You did not come to greet me as you usually do." She observed, the regret in her eyes overcoming her. "Have I offended you, milord?"

"No." He stared back at her, his lips twitching. Remembering their previous conversation, he leaned back and folded his gloved hands together. When her gaze did not lift, unease tremored through him. Uncertain how to proceed, he shifted in his chair. "I will not chastise you for speaking your mind."

"Then why did you not seek me out?" She pressed, "Were you…hiding up here, hoping I would not notice? Tis' unlike you to avoid anything, Lord Bernhard."

"I was not avoiding you." He scoffed, his smile fading into a repugnant sneer. "I would never hide from a human, no matter how unimportant they are."

"Oh, I did not realize that is what you thought of me." Her eyes narrowed.

Realizing his error, he shook his head. "Do not be ridiculous! I was merely resting before your arrival. Dealing with you is exhausting, even for one who does not require sleep." He chuckled dryly.

"How kind of you to say." At last, she averted her gaze from him. "Perhaps I shall leave you be this evening. I would hate to wear out my welcome, after all."

The woman's words stung him. Uncertain what to do, for he had never found himself in such a predicament, he slowly rose from his chair. Whereas standing above her on the platform was once satisfying, he now detested it. Before she could say anything further, he bowed deeply – his rich red hair tumbling around his paling face as he attempted to delay responding. Upon straightening, he lifted his head, walked forth, and descended the stairs. As his boots thumped across the carpet, the woman's eyes widened. When he came within a few feet of her, she stared up at his smirking expression.

After thinking on her words, he gave the woman a somewhat apologetic look. The authority in his voice softened somewhat. As he looked down at her, his dark eyes traced her face. "Your absence tonight would disappoint me." He whispered. "Though, I hope no further…misunderstandings willoccur henceforth, Lady Rohesia."

Startled by his sudden change in tone, she frowned. Her large, grey-blue eyes once again met his. "Misunderstandings?" When his expression revealed nothing, she continued. "I did not think there were any misunderstandings, milord. You very clearly articulated your view last time we met."

Though he wanted to be satisfied with her response, uncertainty continued gnawing within him. His lips forced a smile. "I am glad to hear it. There is no need for further discussion then-"

"Yes, there is." The injury in her voice made him fall silent. As he stared at her grief-stricken face, she reached into the pocket of her dress. Her voice trembled under the weight of her words. "I wish to thank you for the play, Lord Bernhard. You went through a great deal of trouble on my behalf, for which I am grateful. I did not think I would ever see a play, given the fact Lord Armster does not approve of such things."

"Perhaps," he replied softly. "Unlike you, Lord Armster simply lacks imagination."

When she withdrew a small wooden box, his attention averted from her to the object. The box was simple in design, with a swirling gold leaf pattern engraved onto its lid and decorative gold plating on its corners.

With a gentle smile, she held it out to him. "You gave me the gift of theater, now, I wish to give you the gift of music."

"What is it?" Walter accepted the box, his eyes widening as he turned it over several times, his fingers lightly drumming upon its mahogany surface.

The object was no larger than the width of his palm. Despite its modest appearance, he noted its fine craftsmanship and finish. He grasped the small wooden knob in the middle of the box's front and cranked it. A metallic clinking sound reverberated from within the object. When the crank would turn no further, he lifted the lid back and gazed at the mechanisms inside - a cylindrical metal turnstile and dozens of little pins. The turnstile sprang to life and the little pins began to click.

To his delight, a simple melody filled his ears. It was a slower and somewhat sadder sounding version of a familiar song. The sound captured his attention completely; his recognition of it showing on his face when he said. "This is that tune I have heard you sing to yourself and Pumpkin." After listening to it for a few moments, he added softly. "It is lovely."

Its simple sound echoed across the room, breaking the lonely silence he had grown accustomed to. He held it in his open palm; his dark spheres glancing from the music box to her face. Unable to accept that she was smiling at him, he bowed his head.

The lady wrung her hands, her uneasiness showing at the sight of his despondency. Perhaps believing it was not to his satisfaction, she said. "I know it's not much, compared with other gifts you have probably received over the years. I hope I am not being too forward, Lord Bernhard."

"Not at all." He paused, momentarily losing himself in her kind gaze. After drawing a heavy breath, he continued softly. "I shall think of you when it plays."

A hint of red appeared in her cheeks. "I am grateful for the time we have shared." Unable to withstand his gaze, she turned away. "You have everything one could ever dream...freedom, eternity, wealth, and power. What could a simple, mortal creature such as I possibly give you?"

After drawing a heavy breath, he took a small step forward. "I do not have everything." He gazed at her longingly, his face paling somewhat more than usual the longer he looked at her. He extended a hand, wanting to touch her, but withdrew it as soon as she turned to look at him. The moment their eyes met, he flicked his cloak and raised his head. His fine lips formed an empty smirk. "I am still searching for something more powerful than what I have. Once I obtain it, I shall no longer have to endure any limits to my power. Humanity will be at my complete mercy."

"Of course." She lowered her head and wrung her hands. "Lord Armster intends to marry me when he returns. You will have eternity to find that which you seek, as I shall no longer be a distraction."

Dismayed by her truthfulness, he shook his head. His voice lowered. "There is…something…I want far more."

His firm objection disputed her assumption. The possibility of her never returning filled him with dread. He shook his head, attempting to rid himself of the emotion despite his yearning to know it. Uncertain what to say, he clutched the box tightly in his hand.

"There are things…" he whispered, "Even I am unworthy of, despite my power." With a forced smile, he tucked the little object away in the pocket of his cloak. "Come, milady. Let us enjoy some wine tonight. Think not on what has yet to pass. Time is a fickle thing that is ours, for now…even though your lord would not approve."

After a long pause, she smiled. "Ah, he would not at all – and that is precisely why we should."

"What are you doing?" She asked, her eyes widening as he strolled to the railing near the entrance.

Walter looked over his shoulder at her. "Why, feeding Finn, Fisk and Finnegan, of course."

He approached the railing and set the bucket down beside his feet. The rushing waters below refused to yield their secrets to him, despite his efforts to see what lay beneath it. A tiny smirk creased the corners of his lips as he slowly raised his hand. The lady jumped back when the aquatic creatures breached in unison below; their scales gleaming in the cavernous light before they disappeared into the abyss. Seconds later, their heads emerged at the surface; their powerful jaws agape in eager anticipation of their reward. With an amused chuckle, he picked up the bucket and tossed a human arm over the edge of the railing. The arm had not even hit the water before the creatures were upon it. Their throats released loud, excited hisses as they rampantly tore apart the appendage. Blood soaked into the water; briefly tinting its obscure depths red before the current carried it away.

"Where did you get that?" She covered her mouth with her hand; the stench of death overcoming her.

The red-haired lord shrugged. His eyes flitted from the water to the lady as if the question was ridiculous. "Another brave warrior failed to impress. Regrettably, his remains are more useful than he was."

She frowned. "You said you would end your games-"

Waving his finger at her, he chuckled under his breath. "I thought even you would be able to discern these remains have been here for quite some time." With a sigh, he tipped the bucket toward her, revealing its half-rotten contents. Flies and maggots swarmed the blackened, putrid remains within it. His nose wrinkled when its unpleasant odor wafted through the waterways' thick, damp air. "You are welcome to inspect them, if you wish."

The woman shook her head; attempting to hide her disgust. "God's bones, no! Lest you forget, that pile of flesh and bone was a man at one point."

"As he is dead, it hardly matters, now." Giving the bucket a dismissive look, he continued. "Like others before him, he was unworthy of meeting me."

"How did he die?" She asked; unease appearing upon her face.

The red-haired lord glanced at the remains. Smirking, he replied. "I found him with a broken pelvis, probably due to the Succubus." He paused, chuckling. Knowing full-well the undeniable injury, he added. "Actually, definitely the Succubus."

Her mouth fell agape. Visibly torn between amusement and disgust, she fell silent. When she made no further objection, he returned his attention to the water.

"Come." He bellowed.

The amphibians leapt out of the water and landed in front of them. Their yellow eyes stared up at his imposing form as he approached and stood before them, his body shadowing their scaled forms without flinching in the slightest. He looked at them for a moment, somewhat amused by their easily won devotion whilst he reached into the bucket and presented a severed human head. They opened their mouths and popped their jaws in excitement; their yellow eyes focusing upon the object until he extended his other hand and beckoned one of them forward. The creature obeyed and clambered closer on all-fours; its reptilian eyes never leaving him as he gently patted its scaled head. He did not know why the objectionable thing won his fondness – until he saw the woman's tender smile.

With a proud laugh, he tossed the head into the air and watched the them lunge to catch it. The head landed behind them with a wet thud; causing them to scramble madly after it. As each one attempted to snatch it in their jaws, they tossed it around the room like a ball. As the severed head rolled across the rough stone surface, a trail of blood smeared the floor. The woman stared at the grisly sight. Her face lost some of its color.

Chuckling softly, he led her to an old door at the back of the entryway.

Upon entering the small chamber, Pumpkin's frog-headed hand lit up; illumining rows of oak casks stacked on old shelves in its soft light. Each cask was carefully dated and organized. As he led her through the space, his gloved hand lightly danced across the dusty objects. He had collected hundreds over the centuries, all organized and neatly tucked away in the recess of the castle waterways. Though the damp area was far from ideal for wine, a single room close to the entrance fulfilled his requirements. The room was cool, dry and the perfect temperature for his prized collection.

The woman followed hesitantly behind him, observing the old casks with growing interest.

Walter stopped at one of his best blends near the back of the cellar. The cask looked like any other, but his discerning eye knew differently. His wine room was so meticulously organized that he could find exactly what he wanted blindfolded, if need be.

As he picked up one a goblet hanging on a rack beside it, he began confidently. "Ah, here we are. This is one of my best vintages. Would you care to try?"

"I would, though I don't know a damn thing about wine." She looked at the cask uncertainly. "Admittedly, your collection is astounding! Not even the wealthiest lords could rival this. Why, we have enough drink to inebriate God Himself, if need be!"

"I would rather you enjoy it, milady." He bowed his head. "It has taken me hundreds of years to grow this collection. I have nothing but time, after all…and only the best will do." He cranked the cask's tap and allowed a small amount of claret colored liquid to drain into the cup. After filling it, he turned and offered it to her.

Plucking it from his hand like a flower, she brought the goblet to her lips and sipped. To his chagrin, a loud, rasping cough wracked her chest. Shaking her head, she passed the glass back to him.

"What?" Taken aback by her reaction, his brow furrowed, and he inspected the wine-filled goblet. He gently shook the glass, swirling the rich velvety liquid around for a few seconds as he took in its delightful aroma. Confident there was nothing amiss with his beloved vintage, he huffed. "How can you not like it? I aged it perfectly. Any wine connoisseur worth their blood would think it the best in Europe."

"Oh, I am certain it is fine, Lord Bernhard. Please do not take offence!" She smiled politely. "You should not waste any on me! I would not know the difference between fine wine and donkey piss."

Walter laughed, remembering a time when he had been just as ignorant. "Are you certain?" He teased, his lips forming an amused grin. "Were I to give you that, I am certain you would know it. It has a distinct odor, after all…notes of sourness and a pungent essence-"

"You speak with a great deal of knowledge on the matter." She remarked. "Far more than one should."

"Over the years, I have tried wine that would make piss seem appealing by comparison." He smirked. "Of course, you will not find anything of poor quality in my cellar. I am certain I can spare some of my best stock…as nothing for you is ever a waste." His voice softened as he scanned the other casks. He noticed her look at him more intently, her eyes widening upon hearing his unexpected compliment. He withdrew a breath, his eyes flitting uneasily between her and casks whilst he added. "I would be a poor host if I did not find something to your liking. Centuries ago, guests frequently visited this castle. Storing wine was a necessity. Alas, it seems so long ago, now."

"You had visitors?" The curiosity in her voice was impossible for the red-haired lord to ignore.

"Of course." He replied, the confidence in his voice making it seem as if his answer was obvious. "I was a child then. The ballrooms in the keep were filled almost every evening with my kind."

"What happened to them?" She asked, her voice quieting upon hearing his somber tone.

While scanning the numerous oak casks, he frowned. "As your kind grew in number, mine dwindled."

"Would the opposite not happen?" She asked, pressing the issue, despite his reluctance. "Surely, more humans would mean more for your kind to…"

Shaking his head, he whispered quietly. "Not necessarily."

He looked away, trying to conceal his unease as he scanned the numerous shelves. Though he did not speak further on the matter, her observation troubled him. Even he did not want to admit his kind may have reached the end of an era. He preferred to believe the end of their era marked the beginning of his. He would find something to her liking, as he could not tolerate the possibility of failing to please her. Even if she did not know anything about the craft, he was eager to share the stories behind each piece he had acquired throughout his existence.

"Now then, this one from 1018 might appeal to you instead, milady. It has a much sweeter taste and came from ancient vines near Florence. The Medici family gifted this cask to me after I disposed of a baroness who had been quite troublesome to their family."

So certain was he that she would like it that he filled the glass nearly to the brim. He passed it to her once again, his eyes drinking in the sight of her smile as she brought it to her lips.

Once again, her nose wrinkled from the taste and she shook her head. "Perhaps, I do not have as refined a palette as you. I'm surprised you would take an interest in human pastimes."

"Why is that?" He asked, his lips curling as he accepted the glass back from her. Unwilling to let it go to waste, he downed the red liquid; relishing its light bodied flavor. "Wine is one of the few things humans make that I enjoy." He chuckled, his eyes flickering as he watched her scan the room.

"Well," Her attention drifted to the numerous shelves and casks around them. "When you initially brought me here, I assumed whatever you had in store for me had little to do with wine."

"What?" He turned around, his face a mask of surprise until he understood her implication. With a broad grin, he drank the remaining wine from the cup and laughed. It had been a long time since he remembered laughing for the sake of it, rather than at another's expense. His deep voice resonated through the room when he regained enough composure. "Did you think I was aging blood?"

"I…" she began, her face turning a shade of red. "I thought it was plausible, given your unique tastes."

Walter shook his head, his laughter escalating as he struggled to find the words to reply. "Unlike wine, blood is best consumed immediately. I have never considered aging it in such a manner! It would take a hundred humans to fill a single cask – not an impossible feat for one such as I but-"

"I understand!" She replied, clearly not wishing to know the details. "Now that I know all of this is actually wine, I would love to try more."

"As you wish." He bowed and scanned the casks once again.

He gave her several different wines, all of which she rejected after sampling them. What she did not finish, he consumed on her behalf.

After at least an hour sampling over three dozen options, she stopped and looked behind her. "Where... is…Pumpkin?" Her voice filled with concern upon noticing her beloved companion's absence.

The faint glow from its lantern was visible a few shelves away. As she hurried around a row of shelves to find it, her steps were oddly unsteady. Within seconds, she paused and leaned against a cask. After collecting herself, she shook her head, gathered her wits, and continued onward. Walter followed suit, smiling as he watched her clumsily pick up the skirts of her dress to avoid tripping. Despite her efforts, she grasped the shelves as she hurried toward the small, glowing shape on the floor. Upon sighting the creature lying spread-eagle beneath a cask in a puddle of red liquid, she gasped.

"Pumpkin! Oh no, surely it cannot be!" Nearly frantic, she kneeled beside it. "Please, wake up little one!"

The red-haired stumbled toward the fallen creature, his dark eyes looking at its small form lying on the ground beneath the cask's tap. Barely resisting the temptation to punt it out of sight, he muttered. "The little drunkard helped itself to my best stock."

"Oh, thank God, I thought it was dead!" She breathed a sigh of relief. Before he could continue, she laughed – nearly falling into a shelf as she straightened to obtain a better look at the cask in question.

"It seems its taste rivals my own, for it has consumed most of my 900 cask. That was a very precious vintage." He noted; his voice filling with irritation. He stared down at the reflective blood-red pool surrounding the little imp.

"Where did that vintage come from?" She asked, curiosity momentarily overcoming her anxiousness.

Giving the woman a shrewd smile, for he could not withhold the opportunity to recount the story behind it, he replied. "An impetuous young duke insulted me. I am certain it did not help that he chose to express his opinion before the court. The braggart frequently claimed his vineyard was the best in the region. So, I challenged him to combat. If I was victorious, I demanded his best cask of wine - the one thing he loved almost much as himself. The fool accepted, believing he would have no trouble defeating me. Of course, I proved his assumption incorrect. Though the wine pleased me, it was nothing compared to the taste of his blood."

Uncertain what to say, she shook her head. "I should have known its former owner would meet such an end. I wish to try this one. If it tastes as good as Pumpkin thinks it does, at least the poor man who owned it did not die for nothing."

Unwilling to refuse her, he approached the cask and cranked the handle. When nothing came out, it took him a few moments to realize he had been cranking the tap the wrong direction.

He shook his head; his cheeks flushing when she observed. "Lord Bernhard, are you…well?"

"Whatever do you mean?" He asked, trying to ignore her when he managed to turn the tap properly, at last. He filled the cup to the brim and handed it to her; his unsteady hand causing some of the liquid to slosh onto the floor. At that point he no longer cared, for he only wanted to find something she liked. It irked him to know Pumpkin had selected it instead of him.

The lady took a long, slow sip. After lifting her face away from the cup, she nodded approvingly. "Tis' the best vintage yet!"

"Wine should be sipped, milady-"

"That is not how you have been drinking it." She retorted. "How much have you had?"

He thought on it a moment. Everything seemed hazy – even her face had lost its clarity. With a sigh, he leaned back against the shelf. His larger frame towered over her. After bringing a gloved hand to his chin, he shook his head. "I cannot recall."

"I feel a bit…strange. Tis' not unpleasant though." Before he could offer her his cloak, she sat down on the floor. "Speaking of that, milord…" she began, looking around the darkened cellar. "Where is your chamber pot?"

Walter's eyes widened. Caught off guard by her bluntness, he jerked his head back, repugnance sweeping across his face. "I have no need for such things."

"Well, I do!" Unwilling to let the matter rest, she persisted. "Where do you keep it? Surely, you have had enough human guests to procure one at some point?"

"Most of my guests do not live long enough to require one." He frowned. Uncertain what to say, he pointed at the cellar door on the other side of the room. "You shall do nothing of that sort here."

"I beg your pardon, milord, but if you do not have a chamber pot, I will have no choice but to-"

"Very well." He snapped. "I will try to find…something." He staggered around the room, nearly falling into the shelf beside him. After steadying himself, he scrounged the floor between the shelves until, at last, he came across an old wooden refuse bucket. As it was the only thing he could find, he picked it up by its handle, returned to the lady, and set it down on the floor in front of her. With an impatient huff, he turned to face one of the casks. "Take this and…relieve yourself, if you must."

The woman staggered to her feet. Several long minutes passed which, for him, may as well have been hours. He continued staring at the cask in front of him, trying to think of anything except whatever was occurring behind him.

To his dismay, she called out. "Milord, I…seem to be having some difficulty. I require your assistance!"

"Absolutely not!" Unwilling to turn around, he sighed. "I gave you what you sought."

"Yes, and now I ask that you hold up my skirts so I may do what nature requires of me. Or, would you rather I get it all over my dress and your precious floor?"

"I will do nothing of the sort!" His frame stiffened. Desperate to avoid the necessary task, he hissed quietly. "If you needed assistance, you should have brought the child with you."

"Well, she isn't here, is she?" The woman snapped, her voice filling with mutual disparagement. Whilst fumbling to lift her dress' many layered skirts, she cursed under breath. "Goddamn it! I can't see in the dark as well as you! Just when I begin to think you are a decent man, you-"

Not wanting to listen to her ranting, the red-haired lord made an abrupt about-face. Uncertain whether to look at her, the floor or something else, he snatched her dress' long train in his fist and closed his eyes. Never in his centuries of existence had he expected to find himself in his wine cellar holding up a woman's dress so she could relieve herself. Despite his feigned disapproval, he could not help feeling somewhat responsible for their predicament. He had not anticipated she would become so easily inebriated – or that he would, as well. Yet, he could not resist smiling in that simple, awkward moment. She did not pretend to be anything except who she was…and in her presence, he did not have to pretend, either.

As he wondered on how he came to be in such a situation, she laughed. "Lord Bernhard, if only you could see yourself now! Your face is as red as your hair!" With a mocking grin, she added. "I better not catch you looking. A lady needs privacy."

"Be quick about it!" He snapped. Then, chuckling under his breath, he added coyly. "So, does this make me a decent man? I cannot imagine your 'beloved' enduring this…humiliation."

"I daresay he would probably like it." After finishing her womanly requirements, she stumbled to her feet. Smiling, she hurried to the door. "You can open your eyes now, milord. Surely, one as experienced as you has seen a lady piss in a bucket?"

"Regretfully, there is a first for everything." He muttered.

Unsure what to do with the bucket, except that he wished to get as far away from it as possible, he flicked his cloak. He glanced at the imp lying in a drunken, wine-covered stupor on the floor. As tempting as it was, the lady would not approve.

Chuckling to himself, he stumbled after her instead.

The woman unsteadily returned to the waterways' entranceway. The area's cavernous walls enabled him to detect her location, for her steps echoed across the worn stone floor.

As he followed, he swiped an unopened wine bottle from the shelf. Thinking he may need it later, he gripped it by the neck and carried it with him. As his mind was still somewhat clouded by drink, he nearly fell several times as he wandered after her. The last time he was this inebriated, he vaguely recalled waking up next to three naked men.

He watched her make her way to the teleport pad. Tripping over her skirt, she fell forward onto the floor. No sooner had she staggered back to her feet than a man's figure appeared in front of her. With a sharp gasp, she stumbled backward in surprise. Her grey-blue eyes widened as they focused on a tall, heavily armored man. The stranger was clad in thick steel armor from his feet to his neck. His half-shaven face was covered in short grey stubble. The man's tall stature caught the woman off-guard. She looked up at him in astonishment as he stepped into the waterways' dreary atmosphere.

Upon sighting her, the stranger jumped back. His anxious voice resounded through the cavernous space. "You – stay right there! I know not what you are, but if you move an inch, I will unbraid you from head to toe!"

"Who are you? What are you doing here?" When the man's sword came within inches of her throat, she stumbled back. "You must be an absolute delight at parties."

"What does it look like?" As he approached her, she took several steps back, her eyes widening in surprise whilst he continued. "I am looking for my wife! That bastard has her, and I will not stop until I slay him myself! Were you taken captive as well?" Upon seeing her shake her head, his silvery brow furrowed. "You don't…look like a monster."

"That is because I am not one." She studied him a moment, surveying his heavily armored form and the various knives and daggers cinched to his leather waist belt. After a brief silence, she added pointedly. "Those weapons are useless against the one you seek. If you continue this path, you will die in this place."

"I have fought enemies in far greater numbers than he." The man snapped, his eyes stabbing daggers at the woman despite her concern. As he approached, his boots clinked against the stone. "What does a woman know of my capabilities? I have over twenty years of experience on the battlefield."

"I never claimed to know anything about battle." She answered patiently. "Men of all kinds have tried and failed. I do not know your pain, but there is nothing for you to fight for, now. Do not expend your life needlessly-"

"How would you know that?" The man gritted his teeth and continued his slow approach. She slinked around the gated wall and backed slowly toward the center of the room.

Walter tried to recall what the stranger was talking about, for many months had passed since he had played one of his games. Trying to remember, he brought a hand to his chin. In his haze, or perhaps due to indifference, memory evaded him. Whoever it was, he had already done away with them before their would-be rescuer's arrival. His castle was not a hotel for the damned; nor would he show mercy to those who arrived far later than anticipated. The human's presence only served to irritate him. It would not be difficult for him to do away with the pest. He considered translocating right next to the man and gutting him, but the lady's persistence gave him pause.

"There is nothing you can do." She rested her hand on his shoulder. "She cannot be helped, now. You best leave this place and never return. I grieve your loss…had I known, I would have begged him not to-"

"I don't believe you!" He yelled, his anger and rage becoming more evident each passing moment. He wrenched her hand away. "You're…you're human! How could you betray mankind by willingly being in this hell whilst others are sent here to die?"

Walter smirked. Like a character in a play, hope still guided the man's fruitless endeavor.

"I'm trying to save them!" She wrung her hands, her lips trembling whilst she answered. "He agreed to end his games whilst I am here. I was too late to save your wife. If I had known, I would have-"

"No more!" He screamed back, his rage and pain devouring her – as well as himself. "If you consort with the master of this castle, you will take me to him! I wish to face him in battle and bring an end to this madness! My dear Marie still lives; the bastard is hiding her somewhere!"

"She is gone, sir." The sadness in her voice immobilized him. With a sigh, she shook her head, her words echoing across the waterways' desolate walls. "I will not take you to your death."

"If that is so, maybe I will take you to yours!"

Before she could speak, he rushed forward and grasped her by the arm. The man's rage quickly dissipated into disgust as he drew his head back, his eyes burning her with their hatred. "You're drunk! Is this a game to you, whore? Is my pain – and that of Marie – something you mock and jeer over a drink?"

"Stop! If you harm me, he will-"

"I don't care! If what you said is true, Marie is dead, and I have nothing left!"

The woman tried to kick and hit him, but her efforts were futile, for he was too well-armored to be affected by her blows. Whilst he drew his sword, her arm shot up into the air.

"And what is that supposed to-"

Before he could finish his sentence, a reptilian beast leapt out of the rushing water below. A loud, sickening snap echoed through the room. The creature's razor-sharp teeth snatched the man's head and cracked his skull like a walnut. Blood gushed over the floor as terrified screamed erupted from the man's throat. The amphibian's jaws compressed the fragile bone like a vice trap. A dull crunch echoed off the waterways' dank walls. The man's body convulsed under the creature's relentless pressure. When his skull at last gave way, torrents of blood gushed down his face and sprayed the floor. Low, gurgled gasps fled the man's lips as he stood, unable to escape the creature's deadly hold. With a shrill, whistling cry, the amphibian dragged the man's limp form over the railing. With an unceremonious splash, it returned to the abyss with its catch; its blue-scaled form disappearing like a mirage within the watery depths. A cloud of red colored the dark, murky water until it was swept away by the aquifer's fast-moving current.

After a few moments, she staggered to the back of the room. Her wide, glassy spheres slowly drifted from the railing to the red-haired lord's stunned expression.

She looked at the bottle in his hand. "May I?"

Without waiting for his answer, she snatched it from his grasp, pulled the cork off and took a long, slow swig. After consuming her fill, she shook her head and passed it back to him, eager to forget the horror that occurred moments ago. "Let's…get out of here." She breathed, her words slurring slightly as she turned toward the teleport pad on the opposite side of the room. "I should have…done more…"

With a slow, wistful smile, he grasped her by the arm – steadying her as he replied. "There was nothing you could have done to change his fate."

"And what of mine?" She asked, her words slurring somewhat as she walked slowly toward the iron framework obscuring the area's only exit. Tendrils of long, golden hair framed her face as she lowered her head. After thinking on his words, she whispered bitterly. "Will I meet a similar end one day? Will you drink from me as you have those wine casks? Or, will you lock me away down here to forget the only human you could not bring yourself to kill?"

With a sharp gasp, he stopped. Upon noticing her sorrowful expression, his lips twitched. "I do not want your blood." When he could not find any more words, he sighed softly. "You will always be free to come and go as you please. Even if…one day…you do not return. Though I envy your freedom, I shall not take it."

"Milord, how am I freer than you?" She asked, her eyes widening as she gazed up at his solemn face. "I am merely a human woman."

He smiled wistfully, chuckling to himself. As discreetly as he could, he bowed his head – hiding his shame behind the coils of his thick, red hair. "Not to me, Lady Rohesia."

Smiling softly, she took his hand in hers. While looking up at his face, she whispered. "I wanted to die, once. I nearly did…but you changed my fate. Perhaps, I can still change yours?"

"Perhaps." His hand tightened around hers.

Saying no more, he escorted her out.

He reappeared midway down the hall between the teleport room and the castle entrance. The woman was running so determinedly that she nearly collided into him. Her eyes widened when his large, imposing form emerged from the shadows. Bored of their game, for she was far too easy to catch, he snatched her by both arms and picked her up.

Unwilling to admit defeat, she beat her fists against him. "You cheated! You are a cheater!"

"I am not!" He protested, laughing when she stuck her tongue out at him like a petulant child. "As you did not set any rules, I have caught you as I said I would. I was even gentlemanly enough to give you a modest head start."

"Put me down! During the last round, you turned into a bat! Now this?" Flailing and kicking, she laughed. "Unlike you, I cannot teleport like goddamn ghost-"

"Not until you admit defeat," he replied mockingly.

"Never!"

"Very well. You are mine, then." Like a bird of prey, he swept down the hallway, taking his captive, and the wine bottle, with him. Still very much inebriated, he stumbled through the Pagoda. Upon reaching the first grand ballroom, he set her down, took another swig from the bottle, and strode inside.

The soles of his boots thumped across the room's glass-like floor. Upon noticing his reflection in the perfectly polished granite, he studied his unusual pale skin. Soft beams of moonlight filtered through the room's arched windows; illuminating his tall stature as he stood within its vast darkness. His gaze flitted to the status of identically carved stone angels lining the spaces between its numerous arched windows; their wings carved into the wall and outstretched in perfect arcs. Despite the beauty surrounding him, his focus shifted once again to the woman. He noticed her hurry after him a few moments later; a skull tucked under her arm. Before he could ask what she was doing, she tossed it his direction, her lips pressing into a broad grin.

Her somewhat slurred words drove back the room's oppressive silence. "I know I shouldn't touch your antiques…but his helmet looked so silly I couldn't resist! I wanted to…try it on…but his head fell off when I touched it!"

Walter caught the helmet-clad skull. He observed it a moment, noting the human skull's brown, crumbling façade. Like all things, time had taken its toll on the creature. The wretch's once polished gold galea helmet was dull and worn. The helmet's decorative red horse-hair plume was tattered and frayed. He stared at the skull; noting its crumbling eye sockets and missing teeth. Unlike the legionnaire to whom it belonged; he was untouched by the ravages of time. A slow, wistful smile creased his lips. Longing to preserve her like one of his antiques, he studied her closely. Though he could give her immortality, he feared compromising the very things he admired most about her. As he thought on this, his hands tightened around the skull. One day, she would cease to be, leaving behind only memories. Her voice and laughter would play repeatedly in his mind like the music box. Whereas she would drift away, he would remain unchanged and profoundly changed simultaneously.

Forcing a smile, he tossed the helmet-clad skull back to her. "You are no better than the child!" He remarked, his tone lightening despite his unease as she caught it. "Unlike myself, and wine, most things do not age well."

"At least being older than dust has not affected your self-esteem." While passing the helmeted skull from one hand to the other, loud clipping footsteps prompted her to turn around. Her mouth nearly fell agape upon sighting the Roman soldier's body enter the room. The creature's skeletal body clicked, as if in irritation, as it rushed toward her. Though it did not attack, it extended its arms; eager to snatch the object from her hands.

Turning to the red-haired lord, she threw the head in his direction. Surprised by the creature's determination, she remarked. "Goddamn, now I feel like a brute! Isn't it a bit…mean-spirited…of us to tease it like this?"

"You needn't trouble yourself, Lady Rohesia." Whilst clutching the helmeted head in one hand, he smirked. "That legionnaire likely killed a great number of innocents when it was alive. War, as you know, is hardly ever confined to a battlefield. I am sure it can withstand this minor inconvenience."

"I suppose." She mused, her eyes following the creature as it clumsily tried to retrieve its head from the red-haired lord's grasp. Returning his smirk, she began. "So, tell me, what was Jesus like? I love studying history. If you are as old as you imply, I would not mind a first-hand account about our Lord and Savior."

Like one ridding themselves of garbage, he tossed the head back to her. When she made no effort to catch it, he rolled his eyes. The helmet hit the floor beside her with a loud, echoing bang. After taking another swig of wine, he answered sarcastically. "Ah, Jesus. I did not approve of his politics, so we went our separate ways. Judas was far more charismatic."

"If you talked with him, it's no surprise he hung himself," she replied, with a sly smirk.

Walter snorted. "Unlike Judas, I have no regrets – except thinking you could catch worth a damn."

Scoffing loudly, she snapped. "I missed on purpose. Like your creatures, I have a mind and will of my own, Lord Bernhard."

"Do you now?" He laughed, his voice carrying across the room. As she marched toward him, the legionnaire clambered to retrieve its head. Whilst watching the creature pick its helmet-enclosed skull off the floor, he shook the wine bottle at her with mocking contempt. "After all this time knowing you, I had no idea! Thank you for graciously enlightening me, milady. No wonder you do not listen to a damn thing-"

"What?" Her wide, grey-blue eyes gleamed in the moonlight. "You are impossible to listen to! Tis' like hearing my great, great, great, great, great, great grandfather recount what he ate for breakfast 700 years ago, as if anyone gives a damn!"

"You proved my point by interrupting me."

"Clearly, I have not consumed enough wine to tolerate you then!" With a purposefully loud huff, she marched toward him. No sooner had she begun approaching, than her shoe caught the long skirts of her dress. Stumbling forward, she cried out. The red-haired lord's loud, breathless laugh prompted the woman's cheeks to flush. Uncertain how to respond, she picked up the skirts of her dress and continued onward with saint-like determination. "Goddamn it! At least you do not have to wear this!"

"No, though I did, once…" He mused, his smirk broadening.

"I do not believe you!" Folding her arms across her chest, she lifted her head and glared. "Impossible! Why on earth would you…?"

"Why not?" He replied, chuckling under his breath. Waving her away, and eager to continue toying with her, he added nonchalantly. "The best part of all this is, you cannot prove if I am spinning tales or speaking the truth. What is that common excuse I hear humans use all the time? Ah, yes – I was young and needed the coin."

"You are impossible!" She fumed, torn between anger and amusement. "Oh my, those brave enough to look upon that must have been almost as desperate as you."

The red-haired lord huffed in response, eyeing her with mutual amusement as he muttered. "Clearly, marrying you, that pale wretch shall have more than he bargained for."

"Speak for yourself." With a slow, gentle smile – and somewhat unsteadily – she extended her hand to him. Her soft, grey-blue eyes met his. Though much smaller than he, she was unafraid.

Uncertain what she wanted, he set the bottle down on the floor and accepted her hand. Whilst gently guiding her toward him, he stared down at her soft, lovely face. He admired her lack of fear. It was unlike him to trust in humans. Time and again, they had proven themselves unworthy confidantes. Had she wanted to, she could have easily betrayed him to the church. Yet, as she was almost as skeptical of God as he, they confided in one another. He was grateful for the precious moments immortality nearly made him take for granted.

The Ebony Stone reminded him of their contract. When its power pulsed through him, he once again rejected its unwarranted desire. Not tonight.

He wrapped his arm around the small of her back, his gentle touch assuring her he meant no harm. Though she did not require assurance, he feared she would uncover the grotesque demon lurking behind his disguise. He felt her eyes meet his; searching him for answers time, memory and his heart refused to yield.

As they slowly waltzed around the room, she leaned closer to him. Her voice softened under his gentle touch. "You told me you were born into darkness. Surely, if you were born as I was, you have a mother and father?"

His frame tensed. "Of course."

"You know as well as I, one's blood – and family – is everything to some." She whispered. After hesitating a moment, she asked. "What were they like?"

A long silence passed. He guided her unsteadily toward the windows, his breath hitching in his chest as moonlight illuminated her gentle expression. When he gave no reply, she bowed her head, curtaining her shame behind the locks of her golden hair. "Forgive me, I did not mean to cause you discomfort."

He chuckled dryly, the humor absent from his voice. "Given how much you miss your family, I cannot fault you for asking." He paused. "I did not know my father. I do not think my mother did, either."

"What do you mean?"

"My mother had many…'suitors.'" A slow, knowing smirk creased his lips. "At least, that is what she called them. What does it matter? T'was so long ago, her memory…escapes me."

Though she seemed to doubt his words, she slowly nodded. "This castle is beautiful but…so very empty, milord." Her eyes darted around the room, admiring and lamenting its vastness. After pausing a long moment, a broad, excited look overcame her wistfulness. "What if you hosted a party here? It would be like the times of old you described, when your kind once visited this castle and-"

"Are you mad?" He huffed, withholding the urge to laugh. "I enjoy my castle's peacefulness. Times have changed. I could never…"

"Yes, times have changed." She affirmed, her confidence amusing him. "I thought you loved being the center of attention? Is it not boring sitting around on your dusty throne all evening?"

Walter scoffed. "Is that what you think I do when you are not here?" His eyes narrowed. "I enjoyed my games until an impetuous young woman convinced me to end them."

"What if you were to invite people here…and not kill them?" She asked, her excitement nearly overwhelming him. Before he could answer, she picked up the skirts of her dress and hurried to the wine bottle a few feet away. Whilst picking it off the floor, she beamed. "Perhaps, humans would be more entertaining if you kept them alive? I am certain many would find your castle, and its master, as…" Pausing a moment, she added quietly. "Charming…as I do."

Upon hearing her words, a loud, roaring laugh escaped his throat. "Charming? You are far more intoxicated than I thought!" He brought a gloved hand to his chin. As the woman downed another swig of wine, he shook his head. He raked a hand through his thick red hair, his voice softening as uncertainty overshadowed his delight. "Though I love challenges, if anyone discovered my nature…"

"How would they?" She rolled her eyes. As she staggered back to him, wine in hand, she added. "Unless you decide to walk around biting people like a stray mutt, you needn't worry. Though I admire your creatures, surely you could ask them to move to a different area of the castle?"

"Of course." He replied. "I can command them to do whatever I wish – such as destroy my 'guests' worthless souls, should I grow tired of them."

"Pish!" She waved him away, the wild motion of her arm causing wine to splash up from the bottle and onto the floor. "There's no need for rudeness! I know humans can be a bit much but most mean well. You would likely gain many admirers, were you to play host for an evening…and let them live to talk about it. Why, like wasps, the court would absolutely be buzzing."

"Does that include your lord?" He smirked, laughing when she lifted her arm; daring him to say another word, lest he wish to receive a wine bottle to the face. Unimpressed by her threat, he took the wine from her hand and brought it to his lips. "I will consider your suggestion. Perhaps, tis' time I pursued other interests…"

He made a mental reminder to himself that before the party, he would have to double check all the corners of the castle to ensure he had not forgotten about any previous 'guests' he had invited beforehand for his games. Remembering her observation during her first visit to his castle, he smirked. As per the lady's suggestion, he would give the castle entrance 'a good dusting.'

They sat on the floor against the wall, her head resting on his arm. The woman's long, golden hair spayed around her across the floor. Moonlight spilled across her face as she looked up at him, her crystalline eyes focusing upon his scarlet hair and dark, cryptic eyes. Content with her closeness, he downed the last bit of wine from the bottle and set it clumsily down on the floor beside him; causing it to fall over and roll away. He watched the dark colored bottle move across the ballroom's reflective floor until it lost momentum.

"If you could go anywhere, or see anything, what would it be?" She asked, shifting slightly so she could look up at his face.

"I already can go anywhere." He smirked, amused by her suggestion of limitation. "I have seen many exotic lands. That question is better suited to you."

"Surely, you have not seen everything?" She questioned, ignoring his attempt to focus the conversation back on her. "Come now, there must be something."

After a pause, his fine lips formed a wistful smile. He gazed at the obscure sky through one of the ballroom's arched windows. There was something. He had never articulated it before, as he had no one to speak on it with. Realizing the extent of his solitude, his throat tightened. For the first time in memory, he could confess his truth without judgement.

Thinking on this, his voice lowered to a whisper. "I have not seen the sun." A heavy, grief-filled sigh wracked his chest. As he looked at the star-dotted sky, his thoughts drifted to the woman. She saw things he could only dream of. The glow of morning light as it spread across emerald fields. The beautiful, painted colors of sunset. "Perhaps, you could…enlighten me on what it is like?"

Sensing his longing, she gazed at him. Her voice softened. "I have not really 'seen' the sun, like I have seen a painting or someone's face. I suppose you would not know this, but if you...or humans, I should say, look directly at the sun, your eyes suffer a great pain. To understand the sun, tis' better to describe how it feels."

"And how is that?" he asked.

"It is warm and beautiful."

"I see…" He whispered. "…Like you."

Her eyes widened. When she only smiled in return, he drew her into his arms. He lifted his gloved hand and caressed her cheek. He longed to feel her warm, soft skin against his and know every part of her. Coils of lush, red hair fell around his face as his hungry lips sought hers.

A low, gasping breath escaped her. Then, without warning, she hunched forward and vomited on his coat and boots.

Walter stared; trying to understand what had just occurred. After looking in dismay at his vomit-covered boots, he staggered to his feet – ignoring the liquid dripping down his coat – and lifted her into his arms. The woman's eyes fluttered closed. Vomit and wine trickled down her mouth and across the front of her dress. A dry chuckle vibrated from his throat. Barely conscious of it, he smiled.

Their time at an end, he carried her out of the ballroom, whispering as he went.

"Good night, milady…"

Upon arriving at the manor, Walter dismounted his horse. The lady's small, grey mare - its silvery coat dotted with sweat - stood beside his massive stallion. Since she had taken Selene to visit him, he had to manage the reigns of both equines during the journey back. The horses had to move at a swift gallop to ensure he could return to Eternal Night before dawn.

The woman, far too inebriated to ride the mare back, rested across his lap in the saddle. Clicking softly with his tongue, he grasped her mare's bridle and led the beast to the stable boy. Despite the late hour, the youth - accustomed to the lady's unusual late-night visits – had awaited her return. After passing the reigns into the boy's waiting hands, he reached into the pocket of his coat, flicking the vomit off his sleeve, and slipped him a few gold coins. Somewhat regretful of his filthy appearance, as he did not have time to change prior to departing, he was thankful the boy did not dare ask what happened.

Carrying the vomit-covered woman in his arms, he turned toward the manor. With as much pride as the situation allotted, he lifted his head and strode toward the entrance.

Hearing his footsteps, the lady's eyes slowly opened. Somewhat recovered from her stupor, she looked up at him. Horror replaced her once serene expression as she gasped. "What happened? God's buttocks! You are covered in vomit!"

"So are you, milady." He smirked. "Alas, t'was a small price to pay."

"Forgive me." She breathed, her face paling somewhat as she lifted a hand to her brow. "I…feel…horrid."

"About me or the wine?" He asked, chuckling, despite himself. "Until the vomiting, I very much enjoyed your company."

"Though I feel as if I was kicked in the stomach by a horse, I regret nothing." She smiled. "Next time we drink, I will have to remember to pace myself…"

"Next time?" He scoffed, trying not to laugh when she blinked in response. "For now, you best focus on finding a servant to run you a bath. You reek of vomit."

"And you reek of arrogance." She laughed.

Upon arriving at the door, he gently set her down. Still somewhat inebriated, she grasped his arm and leaned into him, her smaller frame contrasting his tall, imposing one. As it was somewhat cold that evening, he lifted his cloak and wrapped it around her back. "Rest a while…" Bending slightly, he whispered in her ear. "I will return for you. There is…something I wish to discuss when I see you again…"

"Oh?" She asked, her eyes widening in surprise. "Is it about the party?"

"No." He looked away, trying to determine how to broach the subject without disclosing far more than intended. Drawing a breath, he slowly lifted his hand to her cheek. "Something…far more important." Silence overcame him. Slowly, he withdrew his hand from her face and raked it through the coils of his thick red hair. He lifted his head, his stance tensing somewhat as he added softly. "It can wait, milady."

Somewhat confused, but too exhausted to argue, she nodded.

As he opened the door for her, she smiled. He followed her inside and closed it quietly behind them, praying that Anneliese would help clean her up before anyone noticed. After hurrying to the manor's grand staircase, she ascended a few steps – then paused. The skirt of her long, grey dress spilled down the steps behind her. Fortunately, despite her lethargy, she avoided catching her feet in the cumbersome fabric.

Her soft voice drifted through the eerily silent entryway. "I look forward to our next meeting, Lord Bernhard."

The red-haired lord swept a low bow, his barely audible voice whispering in reply. "As do I, Lady Rohesia."

Upon straightening, his eyes widened.

Lord Armster's unmistakably pale image drew his attention. The crusader stood at the top of the stairs, his face a mask of rage. The recognition must have shown upon the red-haired lord, for she immediately whirled to see what he was looking at. Before she could utter a word, the pale nobleman swiftly descended and halted a few steps above her. His silvery frame towered over her like a hawk.

"Where were you? I waited for hours!" Noticing the soiled front of her dress, he seethed. "What the hell happened? You're a mess! What did he do to you?"

"Do to me?" She repeated, her voice acquiring a sharpness Walter was unused to hearing. Anger flashed across her face when she answered. "Why, nothing of course! Lord Bernhard and I shared a few too many glasses of wine, that's all."

"That is not nothing!" The white-haired lord hissed, his eyes flitting momentarily from her vomit-covered dress to the red-haired lord standing silently nearby. Upon seeing the other lord's somewhat bemused expression, his attention returned to her. Scowling, he continued sharply. "You were drinking?" He paused, his nose wrinkling as he sniffed. "I should have known he would use drink to corrupt you. You have no idea the pain you caused me when I thought you had-"

"What?" She interrupted, her voice rising with her lord's ire. "Sarded him? Oh please, I am not a whore, Zaviean. As if you would know anyway, given your inexperience."

"I hate to interrupt…" The red-haired lord glared at the pale nobleman. As dawn was fast approaching, he had not the time for quarrels, despite his dislike of the other man. "The lady is tired…and it seems you are, too, Lord Armster. I shall take my leave."

"Not yet!" The pale lord snapped, his piercing, steely gaze freezing the other lord in place. Looking at the woman once more, he shook his head, his voice softening somewhat. "I feared for you, Arabella. You do not understand the things I endure for you. Despite my efforts,you could not even be bothered to greet me upon my return."

The woman's eyes widened. Trembling somewhat, she grasped the staircase's railing to steady herself. Returning her lord's scowl, she replied. "I had no idea you had returned! I assumed you were not due back for at least a fortnight."

"My company was victorious once again." He snipped. "Given my success, I was permitted to return early. Forgive me for hoping you would be glad."

"Congratulations!" Walter smirked, his dark eyes gleaming with mocking approval. "I was just about to organize a welcoming party for the conquering heroes. Too bad I forgot to invite you."

"I have more important matters to attend to, Lord Bernhard." The pale nobleman retorted, giving the red-haired lord a disgusted look. After pausing a moment, a tiny smirk appeared on his face. Lifting his head, he flicked the silk-like strands of his ivory hair away from his face. His icy spheres returned to the lady. While gazing at her stricken face, he continued tenderly. "Becoming her husband will be my greatest success of all."

"And my greatest regret," The lady countered with a grief-filled sigh. Tendrils of long, blonde hair framed her face – hiding her sorrowful expression. "I beg your reconsideration, milord. What of my family? Will you invite them to the wedding or are you afraid they will learn your white façade hides a corrupt and desperate soul?"

Injured by her words, Lord Armster shook his head. His voice fell quiet. "As you are intoxicated, I will overlook your lies. We will discuss the matter later. Until then, get thee to bed. Lord Bernhard and I must have a word."

Refusing to look at him, she slowly ascended the staircase. Within moments, her grey form disappeared.

As Lord Armster descended the staircase, his eyes never left the red-haired lord for a second. He ushered the other lord into an adjacent sitting room. Walter stared after him, his eyes narrowing as he followed, not giving a damn about the man's impatience or anger.

As soon as they entered, Lord Armster slammed the door shut.

"What is she to you?" The white-haired lord accused. His dark blue eyes narrowed as his lips curled into a disgusted sneer. "My betrothed is not a plaything for your entertainment, Lord Bernhard. Should I discover you deflowered her, I will ensure you never see the light of day again!"

"That will not be an issue, Lord Armster." Walter returned the man's warning with a smile. "The lady's womanhood is safe under my protection."

"Be that as it may, I cannot permit this to continue."

"And why is that?" Walter's smirk vanished instantly.

"I hear she spends a great deal of time at your estate – far more than is appropriate. I should have never permitted her this freedom, for she knows not the cunning and lustful nature of men."

"And I suppose you do?"

"I intend to ensure she does not become a fallen woman. I don't want any harm coming to her reputation."

"Or to yours, perhaps." With slow, cautious steps, he approached the other lord. As he walked, the white-haired nobleman stepped quickly back, his sapphire colored eyes widening as his apprehension grew. Within moments, Walter succeeded in backing the other lord against the wall.

"What are you doing?" Lord Armster hissed. He tried to look for an escape, but the red-haired lord's imposing form made the effort futile. The nobleman's already pale face whitened even further, were it possible.

Walter heard the human's heartbeat quicken. He lowered his face to the man's cheek, skimming the pallid skin with his lips. His other hand caressed the man's pearly white hair before sliding to his armored chest, then lower, still. Lord Armster tensed in response. The nobleman's eyes fixed upon the other lord as the red-haired tormentor stroked him gently. The pale lord gasped and struggled to free himself, only to no avail. He tried to reach for the sword sheathed behind his back, his fingertips skimming the hilt until Walter grasped his hand and pulled it away. With a low chuckle, the red-haired lord pressed himself against the man's vulnerable frame. To his delight, Lord Armster fell still. The man's piercing sapphire eyes looked up at his face, the hatefulness within them slowly receding. As they stood together, concealed by the night's obscuring shadows, Walter wrapped his arms around the other lord's armored frame. The human's quickening heartbeat revealed it would not be long before he could peel away his protective shield.

"I know the lustful nature of men." The red-haired lord continued, his voice lowering as his hunger for the man's blood, and body, grew. "Though you think you have power over me, you have none."

Yearning filled him as he gazed at the man's pallid form, his dark eyes tracing the lord's flawless white skin and hair. Despite his aversion of Lord Armster, he could not resist the temptation to petition the crusader's surrender. The human had been deprived of love so long, being wanted by someone – even him – may have appealed to his darkest desires. He knew what the human wanted, despite the man's efforts to resist. Though the man claimed unwavering devotion to God, war's horrors had weakened his faith, rather than strengthening it.

Sensing this, Walter did not need to kill the man to ruin him.

As God had banished his tainted soul from heaven, he would ensure Lord Armster would not be permitted to enter, either. Being had by another man would undoubtedly shatter the pale nobleman's fragile mind. Though religious conventions did not bind him, the crusader's devotion to God made him unable to escape judgement. While damning Lord Armster's soul to hell, the man's body would gratify his carnal desires. The arrangement was so perfect he was dismayed he had not thought of it earlier.

His gloved hand glided effortlessly across the man's arousal, the yearning in his gaze questioning Lord Armster's resolve. "Are you afraid no one wants you?" His lips formed a tiny grin as Lord Armster's muscles tensed. "Tis' natural to want what is forbidden. Months on the battlefield surrounded only by other men must create unbearable temptations."

"What do you know of my desires?" The white-haired nobleman hissed through gritted teeth. Despite his sharpness, breathless gasps fled his lips. Like an instrument of the red-haired lord's will, he slowly yielded to the other lord's gentle caresses. "God…does not sanction this! You will…release me...!"

Walter chuckled when the man hardened under his touch, his dark spheres easily penetrating his indifferent mask. "Though God does not sanction this, your body does."

"That's…that's not true!" The pale nobleman rasped; his voice nearly lost. Pleasure slowly overcame his disgust. A low, breathless moan escaped his throat when the red-haired lord's caressing hand refused to relent. His dark blue spheres widened; their coldness receding from the other lord's gentle coaxing. After drawing a heavy breath, words finally freed themselves from his throat. His rage faded to a mournful whisper. "Forgive…my weakness…"

Walter was unsure if he was confessing to him or God, for the man's visage revealed nothing. Unwilling to allow the crusader the chance to recant, he drew the human's silvery-white form closer. The moment Lord Armster's sapphire eyes met his, he whispered. "I know you have longed for someone to touch you, willingly. The women of the east will not lay a hand upon you, whether you pay for their pleasure or demand it." He lowered his face next to the pale nobleman's, his cold breath skimming his ear. "Cast your fear aside and lead yourself into temptation. Give yourself to me, and I will show you the illicit pleasures God denies you."

A breathless chuckle escaped the white-haired lord's lips. With a snarl, his gauntlet-encased hand grasped the other lord by the front of his coat. Though Walter was far larger than he, the crusader managed to shove him back with surprising tenacity and strength. His voice, once soft, rose with restrained fury. "Do not ever touch me like that again." He tossed his head, curtaining his discomfort behind the silky strands of his long, ivory hair. Nearly trembling, he reached for the sword sheathed on his back.

As his fingers wound around the hilt, he gave the man a glare so severe death itself may have retreated from it. "A solider in my company tested my devotion to God in a similar manner. He came to my bed and tried to seduce me, despite my objections. I will not stand for anyone distracting my men from God's mission – even one of my own. So, I thought it prudent to use him as an example for the consequences of lechery. I severed his manhood and cast him into the desert to rot while the rest of my company watched. Should you try that again, perhaps you will share his fate, Lord Bernhard."

Unafraid of the man's useless threat, Walter snatched the other lord's arousal firmly in his hand. The pale nobleman's frame stiffened; the severity in his face waning as the red-haired lord whispered. "We are not in the east, Lord Armster."

"I shall not be had by you. Whereas two men create nothing, man and woman fulfill God's decree for children."

"God's decree, or yours?" Walter released his hold and stepped back.

Disgust washed across his face the longer he observed the pale human's unwavering resolve. Whereas the human used God to justify his actions, he did not need an invisible deity's approval. Power enabled him to do as he pleased, when he pleased. He answered to no one except himself. Lord Armster's unwillingness to be broken so easily may have increased his desire to have him. The human's obsession with Lady Rohesia soured his mood instantly. Were it not for her, the red-haired lord would have ripped the human's jugular out.

"Does it matter? I do what God asks of me." The white-haired lord replied. At last free of his adversary's grip, he withdrew his hold upon the sword.

"And what does your God ask of the lady?" Walter hissed, his eyes burning the pale devil.

"To be my wife, for motherhood is woman's highest calling." A tiny smile creased the corner of the man's lips.

"Assuming she will have you." Though the lady was unbothered by Lord Armster's unusual paleness, he could not refuse an opportunity to remind the man of his stigma.

Unfazed by the other lord's implication, the man's steely dark blue eyes narrowed. He flicked his hair, his smile broadening as he replied coldly. "If not, I will have her, when the time comes."

"Perhaps, it never will." The red-haired lord's hand balled into a fist.

Recognizing his vulnerable position, the pale nobleman slinked away from the wall. His dark blue eyes surveyed the taller lord from head to toe with hawkish enthusiasm. As if aware of the red-haired lord's unpredictability, his gaze locked upon him in subtle challenge. "I hope you enjoyed the lady, for this is the last time you shall see her. I do not know what kind of game you are playing, Lord Bernhard, but it ends - now."

Walter returned the man's obstinance with a wry smirk. His voice filled with feigned disappointment. "How…regrettable."

"For you, I imagine." The white-haired lord hissed. "Should you dare try obtaining her, I will hunt you down and dismember you, myself."

A pathetic human would not deny him that which he desired. His superior power ensured nothing could stop him from doing as he pleased…not even the pale devil. Nevertheless, Lord Armster was not completely bereft of authority. The man would not hesitate to send the woman away if it suited him. As he knew not where the other lord would send her, he thought better of testing the man further – for the time being.

With a low chuckle, he swept toward the doorway, his dark, penetrating eyes rebuking the man's threat like a horse flicking away a buzzing fly. "I invite you to try." He whispered. "Until that time, I bid you good night, Lord Armster."

Without acknowledging the man further, he glided out of the room.

Upon exiting the manor, he mounted his horse and rode to the stables near the edge of the property. It did not take him long to find the stable boy he sought. The youth, rake in hand, was wearily cleaning the barn. Fifteen silver horses poked their heads through individual stall windows. Their fine muzzles dipped into steel buckets of food and water hanging from their doors. As the horses consumed their evening meal, the boy tirelessly cleaned every piece of straw in sight. The urgency in which he worked professed a grim familiarity with his master's intolerance.

Walter drew his horse to a halt and waited.

Sighting the stranger, the boy set the rake down and went to him. As soon as Walter's dark eyes fell upon the youth's small frame, the boy removed his hat and bowed. "Good evening, milord."

Walter observed the youth a moment. His eyes silently traced the scar on the lad's cheek. After pressing his lips into a knowing smile, his deep voice commanded the boy's undivided attention. "Why are you awake at this hour? Surely, your lord allows you to rest?"

"Lord Armster demands I clean his stable every day. He gets very angry if any chores are left unfinished."

"Your master is quite demanding." Walter mused, his voice drifting through the darkness. When the youth said nothing, he added carefully. "I suppose, he pays you very little, despite expecting so much. Perhaps, you would like to leave his service?"

"What do you mean, milord?"

"I request your assistance with a small matter. Should you prove reliable, I will reward you most generously."

"What matter is this, milord?"

"You shall meet me at the well bordering the estate. There, I will bestow you a letter, which you will leave in a discreet location. You will inform Justine where she may find it, so that she can deliver it to your master's lady. Should the lady wish to respond, you will have Justine leave her letter in the same location. You will bring it to me after nightfall."

"I must decline your offer, milord. If my master discovers this, he will punish me severely."

"If you are wise, you needn't worry."

"But, milord-"

"Would you rather be your lord's whipping boy?" Walter scoffed, giving the youth a mocking sneer. "Your master has a swift hand and limited patience, regardless."

The youth touched the scar on his cheek. After a lengthy pause, he replied quietly. "I am at your service."

"Excellent." Then, withdrawing a coin purse from the pocket of his coat, he tossed it at the youth. The young man caught the purse, his eyes widening as the red-haired lord urged his horse into a trot. "I shall return two days from hence at midnight with a letter. Do not be late."

The young boy smirked. "No need to worry, milord. For the whipping Lord Armster gave me, I would do this for free."

My lady,

As your lord has decided to, regretfully, cancel our visits henceforth, letters shall have to suffice. Though writing has kept me occupied, the castle is quite boring without your company. Pumpkin awaits you by the entryway expecting your return. I attempted to distract the imp with one of the treats you left. Alas, its stubbornness far outweighs my patience.

I have thought on your suggestion regarding the party. Do let me know your preferred date.

I await your reply.

-W.B.

Lord Bernhard,

I hope you are well. I regret the change in circumstance and appreciate your letter. It feels like ages since we last spoke, even though it has merely been a week. I did not expect you would accept my request, but I am grateful.

Lord Armster is required at the Vatican to discuss new war plans. He shall leave in a fortnight and return the last day of this month. I expect he will let the servants know I am not permitted to leave the estate.

I miss Pumpkin dearly. Please tell him I will return as soon as I am able.

Justine misses you. Her brother's condition appears to be improving…which would not have been possible without you. Unfortunately, she cannot find her doll and thinks she may have left it behind during her last visit. She asks for you to remember to feed Finn, Fisk and Finnegan as well. I told her that though you are quite busy, she needn't worry, as they are taken care of.

I look forward to seeing you.

Faithfully yours,

Arabella

My Lady,

I am pleased to hear from you. Though I would prefer your presence, your letters help time pass more swiftly. The date is set. I expect your lord will not interfere, for duty ensures his absence.

Tis' best we invite only contacts from other regions. I do not want news of this reaching your lord.

I tried several delectable foods during my visit to East Asia and will hire a cook to prepare them. I expect most guests will find the selection exciting. As you are undoubtedly familiar, the upper-class love bragging about exotic experiences.

Of course, meat shall be provided for the less adventurous.

A local baker will make strawberry shortcake for dessert. I know it is your favorite.

As for drink, my cellar has more than enough wine. I considered opening my millennium vintage but question whether it is still palatable...

Regretfully, I have not found Justine's doll.

-W.B.

Whereas hunting was once pleasurable; he now dreaded its necessity. As the date of their engagement was fast approaching, he knew he would have to feed beforehand. He could not allow thirst to create unnecessary risk to the lady or their guests. Despite his tremendous power, his need for human blood ensured he was forever bound to them.

Though he would never admit it, the woman's concern for their lives instilled a longing to circumvent his instincts. Hunting, a once effortless act, suddenly became problematic. The lady never discussed his obligation to hunt; likely knowing it was unavoidable. Despite this fact, he desired to find a somewhat acceptable compromise.

Even though the lady grieved his taking of life, he could not fully accept her view. Prior to knowing her, he rarely thought of his prey. Animals did not consider their prey before killing them; why should he? Her ability to temper his brutality annoyed and fascinated him simultaneously. However, the urge to relinquish control and consume far more than necessary gnawed at his conscience. The Ebony Stone, unrelenting in its demand, beckoned him to submit to its dark power.

Unwilling to obey the accursed object, he ignored it in favor of the woman.

When he could no longer deny the call of the blood, he left Eternal Night in search of relief. The faint scent of blood and death lured him southward.

After a short time, he came upon a dilapidated stone house with a thatched roof. The house, likely owned by a serf subsisting on borrowed land, perfectly accompanied the barren landscape surrounding it. Walter observed the nearby fields; noting the dead and dry stalks of wheat peppering the unforgiving terrain. Whoever dwelled on the property tried – and failed – to turn the earth into viable farmland. As his knowledge of agriculture was scant at best, he did not know for certain if poor weather, inexperience, or untenable land was the cause. Perhaps, it was all three.

Not wanting to dwell upon human concerns, he returned his focus to the purpose of his visit. As he approached the building, the strong odor of death overcame him. He paused; surprised by its suddenness – whilst dismaying the possibility his hunt had been for naught. Despite himself, he could not resist finding out if his assumption was correct. Although he could have broken in and killed the home's occupants, he knew not who, or what, awaited him. Determined to disregard viciousness for the lady's sake, he approached the home's battered wooden door and knocked. After a brief silence, movement sounded from the other side. Walter's eyes widened from discovering the property was still inhabited.

After what felt like hours, the door slowly opened – revealing an elderly man dressed in a tattered brown shirt and breeches. The man's sunken hazel eyes looked up at the stranger's face. His withered lips parted in amazement. When it seemed the human would speak, loud, haggard coughs wracked his emaciated chest.

He swayed slightly and grasped the doorframe for support, his frame heaving as he rasped. "W-who are you, sir?"

Walter gave the man a short bow, his red hair cascading across his shoulders and cheeks when he moved. "I am a traveler in search of a place to rest." It was the best explanation he could think of, even though he knew it was slightly implausible. His fine clothing indicated a lack of need to seek out respite from a peasant.

The old man gave a tired nod. His rough voice addressed the red-haired lord with genuine regret. "You best get far away from this place, sir. My family is stricken with plague. I do not want you to fall ill."

The red-haired lord noted the man's blackened fingers and pus-covered skin. The human's face was so pale it contrasted the darkness surrounding them. He stared at the sickly creature a moment, his lips parting as he observed the old man's waning strength.

To alleviate the human's concern, he replied. "As I have already been exposed, I shall leave my fate in God's hands."

The old man released an exhausted sigh, his lips forming a wan smile as he stepped aside. "Come in, then. We do not have much but you are welcome to it. My granddaughter enjoys meeting new people. I am sure she would find you a worthy distraction."

Disbelief overcame the red-haired lord's curiosity. "You would invite a stranger into your home without question?"

The old man released a dry, choking laugh, his eyes brightening as if for the first time in years. Loud, gasping coughs escaped his throat as he motioned for the stranger to follow. "I do what the Lord asks me: I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me."

Walter froze in disbelief. To him, the Bible was merely a collection of stories. However, the old man's unwavering resolve made him doubt his assumption. He had not expected he would be invited into the home. Had he truly been in need, they would have jeopardized their own lives trying to help him. The old man's kindness perplexed him, for he had offered nothing in return for their hospitality.

The moment he stepped inside the scent of death overwhelmed him. He almost retreated to the door but did not want to offend his host. His lips curled as he attempted to feign indifference amidst its undeniable presence.

The home was pathetically tiny and consisted only of a single room with a dirt floor. The crumbling stone hearth kindled a small fire. A large cast iron pot hung over the flames. Two tiny cots were in the room's furthest corner adjacent to the hearth. Several tattered blankets were laid upon the floor to create a third sleeping place. The old man collapsed into an old brown rocking chair. His gaunt face turned and stared into the flames.

Then, breaking his attention, he pointed to the pot simmering above the fire. "My snare caught a rabbit this morning. Dinner should be ready any moment, sir…?"

The red-haired lord hesitated. Upon noticing the man's weariness, he answered graciously. "Walter."

"Well met, Walter." The old man's lips formed a weak smile. "I am Dominik. My wife, Therese, and granddaughter, Sibyl, live here as well. My wife is sleeping in the far cot...please take care not to disturb her, if you do not mind." With a deep sigh, he rested his head on the back of the chair, as if the effort to move had become too much. Walter suspected the man would never rise again. "Forgive me, I am a bit tired." Closing his eyes, the old man turned his head toward the fire. With whatever strength may have remained, his trembling hand withdrew a rosary from his pocket. He gripped the cross in his fist as his voice faded to a breathless murmur. "Blessed is the man who remains steadfast under trial, for when he has stood the test he will receive the crown of life, which God has promised to those who love him."

Walter's eyes locked upon the human in grim fascination. He did not need God to obtain the crown of life, for he already wore it. The red-haired lord touched the Ebony Stone, feeling its power course through him. God loved mankind, not him. Then, remembering something from long ago, he pulled from his memory a verse.

Humble yourselves, therefore, under God's mighty hand, that he may lift you up in due time.

He did not understand why the old man believed in a God that left him to die. Neither God, man, or death itself had made him yield…but she did. Though he refused to humble himself before God, he willingly capitulated to a woman. She would lift him up – if he let her. Uncertainly clouded his mind as he thought on the power she wielded over his heart, which he had grown to fear and crave.

Drawing a heavy breath, he peered at the cots, attempting to divert his attention back to the matter at hand. Amidst layers of dirty blankets, he saw a child's face in the cot closest to him. Were he to guess, the girl could not have been older than four. Her dull, pale green eyes followed him as she struggled to sit up.

The child's barely audible greeting drew his attention. "Hello…"

Uncertain what to do, he approached the cot and gazed down at her. Like the old man, the girl's wan features were covered in puss-filled boils. She released a haggard cough, her chest trembling and heaving as she struggled to breathe. He traced the child's small, pale face. Though she looked at him, she did not seem to see him.

Her dull eyes stared up at him in awe; their glassy spheres capturing him as she whispered faintly. "Are you…an angel? Grandmama said….an angel would come to find me soon…"

Walter's dark, obscure eyes gleamed in the firelight. The pragmatic part of him wanted to ignore the child's question. Yet, the longer he looked at her disease-ravaged form, the more he lamented her innocence. With a weak smile, he removed his glove and lightly touched the girl's forehead. Her warm, damp skin confirmed his suspicion that she was delirious with fever.

His deep, assuring voice filled her ears. "At last, I have found you. God is waiting for you, child."

"Will you take me to heaven?" Her eyes remained locked upon him.

Seeming to fear he would leave, she lifted her small, trembling hand. As gangrene had set in, her hand and fingers were black with rot. Walter resisted the urge to recoil from her. Instead, his lips formed a reassuring smile.

Between haggard breaths, she rasped. "Grandmama says…heaven is nice. Only good people go there, though. I stole a piece of cake…but I was hungry…and I'm sorry. Please don't leave me behind."

Walter's eyes flitted to the old man in the chair – noting the man's eyes had closed in deep slumber. The man's faint heartbeat indicated he was still alive, though likely not for long. His gaze drifted to the other cot in the corner where the stench was strongest. An older woman's body lay curled on its side. The woman's gaunt, puss and boil covered face looked blankly back at him. Even though he had seen disease before, he found it difficult to look away. The woman had likely been dead for days, which accounted for the terrible stench. Her face, frozen in feigned slumber, seemed almost peaceful. Yet, the marks of disease all over her body revealed death had not treated her kindly.

The home's remaining occupants were likely too feverish to notice her passing.

Walter approached the pot hanging over the hearth and peered inside it. What may have been soup at one time had long since boiled away. Left to simmer and burn, all that remained was blackened meat and bits of animal bone. The smell of burning meat, mixed with the scent of decomposing human flesh, nearly made him wretch. The man had barely been able to answer the door, let alone leave the home and cook a meal. The pot had been there for days, if not at least a week – burning away as the man stoked the fire in delirium.

The red-haired lord brought a hand to his brow and lowered his head. Tendrils of fiery hair cascaded around his face, hiding his stricken expression until he regained himself. He returned to the child's cot and sat down, carefully ensuring his smile did not fade for an instant.

He brought a hand to her face, caressing her damp cheek, his confidence reassuring her. "Do not worry, child." He whispered. "All is forgiven. Your grandmama is waiting for you to join her. You will not feel pain anymore."

The child stared back at him, her face momentarily showing the fear in her heart. "I don't want to die. Does…it hurt?"

He was uncertain why she asked, for her suffering was evident. Remembering the girl's delirium, he answered softly. "God does not let us choose our time. He is calling you and you must go to Him."

"I…don't hear Him." She whispered. "I…don't hear…anything…but you. Grandmama used to…sing to me before bed. I…can't sleep…"

He paused. After considering the child's plea, he reached into the pocket of his cloak and withdrew the music box. The moment he revealed it, the girl's eyes brightened somewhat. She stared at the little mahogany box in wonderment. He cranked the wooden knob on the box's front until it would turn no further. Giving the girl a wistful look, he flicked the lid back. Music filled the tiny room.

"Rest a while..." His voice, barely audible over the box's poignant melody, drifted softly through the air.

The child closed her eyes. When it seemed the song would end, he cranked the box, urging it to continue playing to ensure she would not stir. As he gazed at her pale face, his pupils flickered a brilliant crimson, lulling her into a sleep from which she would never awaken.

After drawing a heavy breath, Walter lifted the blankets covering the child's neck. Whilst gazing at the little girl's fragile throat, his hand clenched into a trembling fist. The girl's faint heartbeat thumped in his mind. Briefly, he considered leaving her as she was – knowing she would eventually follow her grandparents' fates. Yet, he could not bear the thought of her suffering. If he did not intervene, she would linger alone and afraid, until death finally took her.

God had condemned the child to suffer.

But he would not.

Upon leaving the home, anger and sorrow overwhelmed him. He thought on life's injustices, wondering why God had chosen the child to die and not him. Would God condemn him for giving her a merciful death?

As he had never asked such questions, uncertainty frightened him.

Desperate to forget, he looked up at the night's starry abyss. God would not give him the answers he sought.

An anguished howl bellowed from his throat as he fell to his knees upon the ground.

He cursed himself for allowing the old man to invite him inside, for learning their names, and witnessing their suffering.

He could not call them prey, no matter how much he wanted to.