a/n: I'm sorry it took so long to update. I just so busy.. . but I did eventually...

Voltaire stalked down the hall, failing to notice the small limping figure behind her until she was almost to her room. She frowned at Hauthe, the other shrinking back into the wall. Immediately regretting this, she sighed.
"I'm sorry Hauthe. Rylina just made me so mad. And the fact that someone would treat another person like that…," Voltaire trailed off, shaking her head. Hauthe moved toward her and placed her hand softly on the other's arm. Her intense blue eyes bore into Voltaire's.
"To her I am not a person. I am property, like a chair or a candle. But, we will not talk of such things, Mistress. We need to get you dressed for the ceremonies," Hauthe said opening the door to Voltaire's room, and ignoring her protest of the calling of her as mistress. No sooner had she opened the door than 'Fury came flying out at her. He landed on her and barred his teeth looking at her. No one would get in his Lady's room without her there.

"Blackfury!" Voltaire exclaimed pulling him off her. He looked lost and greatly confused. "This is Hauthe, she's going to be my….," it was Voltaire's turn to look confused. What exactly did Hauthe do? Hauthe solved this problem, however.

"Bodyservant. And if I may say so, we need her changed into something more suitable for her station," Hauthe seemed to take nearly being mauled by a wolf in stride. She didn't even wince despite her injuries. Voltaire made a note to tell the healer to come have a look at her. She walked into the room, and threw open the wardrobe. Her eyes lit up like a kid in a candy shop. Voltaire looked down at Blackfury.
I'll explain later. She told him. She was slightly worried. The only other person she had seen look at clothes like that had been her crazy aunt. She didn't need a crazy in her service.

Voltaire stood next to Wilhelmina half an hour later. It had taken less time than she thought for Hauthe to decide what she was wearing. She was glad that that duty had been lifted from her shoulders. She was a comfort girl. That meant if it felt good it would be worn. She played with the cuffs on her three-quarter-lengths jacket. It was made of the finest black velvet, silver along the cuffs and hem, as well as buttons that appeared to be the end of feathers. A large replica of a silver firebird hugging her back completed the jacket. It hung open over a silver corset embroidered with black vines. Simple black trousers tucked into silver boots that ran clean up her thighs and laced in black. The sword belt she wore was a bright red. It matched the color of her hair, which Hauthe had managed to do something beautiful to. Thousands of tiny braids ran from her temple into a larger French braid in solid red and blonde. Red gloves cut off at the wrist, but seemed to disappear into the jacket.

"I'm so nervous, Voltaire. What if the Blood rejects me? I've been away for so long…," Wilhelmina said for the millionth time. She was lovely in a gown made in four shades of blue. It was a frilly master piece that would've made her feel like a demented version of little bo-peep. The gloves she wore were made of soft blue lace. The skirt itself was so thick and layered, that she wonder how she could move her feet let alone walk. Her hair was curled softly around her face, pulled back enough it wouldn't fall in her face.

"It'll be fine, Mina. The only one who should be worried about their acceptance is me. And, frankly, I could care less," Voltaire told her as Daemonar entered. His black hair was held back in a white ribbon, that contrasted sharply with the black of his full length coat. Everything he wore was black; from the military shined boots to the silk shirt. The only swath of color besides his ribbon was the gold of his belt. Even his wings had a slight black dusting.
"I see why you took Hauthe in. Her taste is wonderful," Daemonar said grinning as he pulled her close. He leaned in, but Voltaire's imagination was at work. She slid her hands along the back of his coat, curious as to how his wings fit into the coat. He gave a small grunt of surprise and pulled back, as her hands touched flesh. It seemed the coat was silted in the back for his wings. "I wouldn't do that if I were you." Voltaire raised an eyebrow.
"And why not?" She asked playing with the wing joints that connected to his back. His response was immediate. He stepped away from her, taking several deep breaths. He sent her a thread of gray thought. It's very…sensitive… She blushed slightly as Blackfury entered on the heels of the old steward. He bobbed his head slightly as he waved them inside. Voltaire quickly straitened her clothes and took a deep breath. Once Wilhelmina was bound to the land time would be short. Especially if the sickness of the land took hold.

HeLl HaVe No FuRy LiKe A wO...:I try to make sure that Voltaire is just like a normal person stuck in their world. I thank you for your encouragement.

Silveni Jinx :Guess I fed your addiction...

Anya shojo:I wish I could tell you the nswers, but that would give the entire fic away. and then were would we be?

kesterel2106:Rylina was effected in the purge. I won't tell you how yet. And as for the servant thing, I was trying to create a court that had lost all sense of what being a member of the Blood was.

Mia: Thank you for your review.

Apricot Jones: Thank you for fixing my langauge issue...Violence is nice, and I'm glad you enjoyed it.

Lady11Occult:Thanks for your suggestion, and I love ass kicking Voltaire alot myself.

chicita:Glad you liked your chapter, and here's the update.