AN:**I'm sorry, it's been a while, you may want to skim over some chapters before reading, or you may have an amazing memory. In any case, please enjoy.**

~ Twelfth Night ~

Sat in the open air of the window, I read Sulpicia's poems until the candle light dwindled to the smallest flame. I fell in love immediately, she wrote with so much power, as if women were truly the rulers of their own lives. I had always thought I had been fairly independent, but when I looked back, I could see my life for the lie it was, a fantasy bestowed upon me be the power of my lineage.

I understood that I was never truly the master of my life. Like my mother before me, Father had controlled each and every decision we had ever had to make. Sulpicia was so free hearted, so open with her words, they made me want to travel to the heart of Rome, discover it's people and see what other secrets it held. Were they all as free as her? Were women truly treated equally there?

I knew from stories of their armies, that the Romans were very advanced. In fact, I had always been enamoured by the travellers tales of Rome's baths, beautiful indoor rooms with heated waters, where men and women would go to cleanse themselves and relax. It sounded heavenly, and I had often wondered what it would be like to venture south, to where the sun would kiss my skin, and harsh winters were not so heard of. Father forbade it all of course, no child of his was going to associate themselves with the Roman Heretics, the ones who had forgotten the old Gods, and bent their knees to false idols.

Every decision, every dream destroyed, and now I was here, this castle, another decision of his, and I found myself questioning if he had ever really cared at all.

"I did not know you could read?"

I had not heard Mircea enter, but his voice did not startle me as Aro's had. I knew it too well.

"You never asked." I answered quietly, refusing to look up from my parchment. Silence followed, and I frowned, challenging the obvious. "Is something wrong?"

"Where did you get these writings?" He asked softly.

Mircea was leaning over me now, I could feel the chill his body emitted, and I shivered.

"They were a gift."

"I see." He murmured, sweeping his touch lightly along my jaw. "I can guess from whom."

He walked away, effortlessly throwing more logs onto the dying fire, before returning to where I sat.

I rolled up the parchment, sensing he wished to press the subject, and sighed.

"I'm tired, Mircea."

"It was very kind of Aro to translate them for you." He said regardless, immediately dismissing my confession. "I do hope you thanked him."

I frowned. Truth be told, I hadn't spared much thought to the fact that the poems were not in their original Latin, as I assumed they must have one time been. So I offered him the smallest nod, watching with cautious eyes as he reclined back quietly against the wall.

"You are angry." I noted softly.

Mircea shook his head slowly, closing his eyes for the briefest of moments, before fixing me once again with crimson stones. He folded his arms.

"I would have thought you'd have questions."

"Questions?"

"About what you learned downstairs."

"Oh." Vladimir's revelation.

My gaze faltered, and thick lashes brushed my cheek, as I found myself fixated on my own tightly clasped hands. Questions. That was certainly one way of describing my current state of mind. There were many of course, but mostly I found it unhinging. I wanted to scream, wail until my body no longer drew breath. I was horrified by what was to be my true fate, and yet outwardly I made sure I betrayed none of this. I had learnt quickly how to hide myself from the demons of this castle, but I knew that my facade was growing fragile, every knock it received, revealed more and more of my true weak self. I feared what dissecting further would do. Besides, it was done now, the decision had been made. I had no choice but to move forward with Mircea's plan for me.

"I do not see how the matter necessitates discussion. You have made up your mind."

Mircea sighed, laughing once humourlessly. "Of course you do not." He said, his voice heavy with contempt. "You say nothing, always nothing, and then, when you do speak, it is as if you are not there, like I am hearing the echo of you."

I swallowed hard, wringing my hands tightly in my lap. "I do not know what you mean."

He laughed again, harshly, and suddenly he dragged me to my feet, his face mere inches from mine. "Yes you do. The only time you are ever truly present, is in your fear, Liliana. These," he began tracing the dark blemishes that trailed my throat and arms, "serve only as reminders of your constant apathy. To the times I have been forced to bring you to the surface."

I squared my jaw shakily, I had never seen him look so fevered.

"As I recall, some of these marks were gifts given for insubordination." I noted recklessly. "You say you want me to speak, but only if I say the things that you want hear, Mircea."

His eyes flashed dangerously. "And you have nothing pleasant to say?" He demanded, tightening his grip on my arms.

I winced.

"What did you expect?" I whispered, sounding more broken than I would have liked. "That I would be pleased? You've taken me away from everything that was dear to me, you've slaughtered half my family, destroyed my home, and now you tell me that you have plans to take my soul aswell? To make me yours. I can barely look at you."

Growling low in his chest, Mircea shoved me back against the wall, pinning me there with his weight. My head made abrupt contact with stone and I cried out, my vision momentarily blurred, before his enraged profile crystallised back into view.

He growled again, his hand painfully encircling my neck. "I have given you everything, Liliana. You owe your very life to me. Had my brothers had their way, you would have found yourself in a much less desirable situation than this. The things they would have done to you..."

His gaze swirled onyx, and his unnecessary breath shuddered, releasing his grip from my neck as a single finger traced a slow, and purposeful path, pointedly between my breasts.

"You should be thanking me." He continued hoarsely, clawing the material of my dress as though it's mere presence insulted him. "What they wouldn't give now to see that perfect flesh laid bare."

I glared at him with disgust, but the tears ran freely now, their silence bought by days of subjugation. I was immobilised, my arms hanging impotently at my sides, as I was forced to have him hold my complete attention. Mircea smiled, brushing arctic knuckles through the traitorous droplets. It was not a kind gesture, it was cruel, overtly mocking, and as one hand caught my pain, the other fell lower, fingers looping possessively around the belt that held my modesty.

"Don't..." I begged.

His smile widened, and I could see it, then, the yearning, the want for something other than my life's essence. I had always assumed that it was that and my pain that held his interest, but what burned in his gaze now revealed that it was so much more. Ownership. A true understanding of what he thought was rightfully his.

I swallowed hard.

"How long?" I breathed shakily, hoping to distract him.

He frowned. "What do you – ?"

"Vladimir said you have been watching me for a long time." I pressed breathlessly. "How long?"

Mircea's smile vanished, it was replaced by something quieter, thoughtful. I was grateful.

"You were barely off your mother's breast, playing in the river with your brothers." He confessed softly, touching his thumb lightly to my mouth. "Your laughter was what drew me. It was so full of life."

My breath hitched at the mention of my lost kin. "And?"

"That was the first time I watched you. You emanated warmth, something that is so rare in my world, and your brothers fed off of it. They adored you."

Mircea hesitated, his mind drawn back by kinder memories.

"I hadn't realised how far into the clearing I'd moved before they saw me. They immediately knew what I was, of course, and in their panic they ran, forgetting you, leaving you to my mercy." He smiled strangely then, his hold on me loosening slightly. "You waved at me when you realised you were not alone. You were so sweet, innocent. My thirst urged me to strike, but I did not."

"Why?"

Mircea cradled my face lightly in his hands. "Because I knew you were different from the others, you did not belong in their flock. Most children would have cried, Liliana, but not you. You were so strong, even then. I wanted to see you grow, to bloom, and I did. Every spring you would be down by the river again, and though I made sure to keep myself hidden, I would watch. I understood you long before you knew I even existed. Now do you understand? You are mine, and you have always been mine, Liliana."

He broke away, and I stared numbly. It seemed to be a relief to him to finally unburden himself, to finally have me understand just how much he had invested in me, how long he had waited. It had never even occurred to him that I would not reciprocate, that I would not want him. He didn't understand that I was no longer that little girl down by the river. That life had taught me to fear, and to hate, and to plot.

"I am not one of your trinkets." I stated warily.

"No." He conceded, his eyes not leaving mine. "You are so much more."

I frowned, dropping my gaze to my feet. "You think yourself in love with me."

Mircea hesitated. "And what if I am?"

"If you are?"

I scoffed disbelievingly under my breath, my body impassive, as the realisation of what he was telling me slowly began to sink in. No, I thought. No, no, no, no. The tug of ire in my belly, began to pull precariously at my body's strings, as biting down hard on my lip, I dragged myself to the window for air. How dare he claim to love me. How dare he even claim to think it. He, who with his brothers and their kin, had caused me so much misery, had caused me so much pain, and yet the monster thought himself in love.

"You doubt what I tell you." He noted knowingly, surprisingly allowing me the distance I'd placed between us. "Do you think I say it to be cruel?"

I laughed darkly.

"I wish you did. I truly wish you did, for that would make more sense to me," I groaned, whirling around, my curls flying hazardously across my face, as the wind blew icy spikes across my back. "This isn't love, what you feel for me. It's obsession, a need to consume, just like with everything else your kind touches. You no more love me, than you do the blood you drink!"

"I see."

He stared at me, silent. His gaze falling slowly to my chest, watching it rise and fall with each long painful breath I took. He seemed to be contemplating, and I thought the urge to cower, as slowly, a hungry expression took over his slender features, and his raven tresses seemed to come alive around him.

"Let me show you." He murmured needfully, his dark eyes catching mine. "Let me show you how much I yearn for you, Liliana." He stepped closer. "How much I need you, want you."

And then again he was in front of me, his impossibly sweet breath taking over my senses, as I gripped the window's edge behind me for support. The cold he emitted was unignorable, and as his slender hands ghosted around my face, I glared up defiantly into his pale profile.

"You make my skin crawl." I hissed shakily, aware of the weight he was pressing against my body.

"That is not the only thing, I can do, to your skin." He sighed wantonly, his mouth so close to my own that his lips brushed against mine.

And then before I could think, before I could react, I was falling.

R&R!

I know, not a lot happened, but maybe you can understand the situation a little more? No? Think its terrible? Still let me know lol. As always I will reply to reviews :)

Take care chickens! X