Same Disclaimer, I own nothing and share the AU with Emygrl99.
Beta'd by the Lovely, Psychotriton, thanks again!
Enjoy!~
"Did I tell you to stop playing?" a voice commanded and Izo startled, jumping slightly on her perch. "Our guests are due any moment now, and you are not to stop, for anything."
Instead of offering up an apology, however, she immediately did as he was told. They didn't like apologies, not from her or anyone who wasn't like them.
Upon her arrival she had been specifically told that she was there to be seen, not heard unless it was through a harp. That had been five years ago, and since then she had not spoken, not uttered a single word to those that gave her a home, clothed, and fed her.
In return for keeping her alive, she was to live by what she had been taught in the house she had been bought from. She was to always–under every circumstance–look presentable and play her harp when she was told to do so. It was truly a small price to pay if she was honest with herself. It was not a life she would ever wish on anyone else, not even the man that had cursed her to it–but when compared to what she could face, she could hardly complain.
Izo had no intentions to die that night, or any time soon by the people who held her life in their hands. Thus, with that thought in mind; her fingers began to dance rhythmically across the strings, hitting every note just right and causing the tall instrument to sing its enchanting song.
The creature that spoke said nothing else and walked away, leaving Izo to her playing. And that was how it went on most days. If Izo stopped before she was told to stop, she was either scolded–that was when they were in a good mood, or if they were in a particularly nasty mood, then that was when the blows would come.
The strikes never came to her face, no she had to be presentable and as such her face was off limits, as was her neck. The rest of her, there were no restrictions.
Both of her wrists were mostly always bandaged and sealed away until one of them became hungry. And when those things became hungry, that was when Izo feared them the most. When they were hungry, there were no warnings, her hands were simply pulled off of the harp and the bandages were ripped away, and then one of two things happened. Either fanged teeth chewed on her skin, or a knife sliced horizontally and let the crimson river flow.
Her thighs too were in a similar state, as were her sides and torso. New scars mixed in with the old ones she received during her time in the previous house where lashes were the preferred form of punishment.
In this castle her back was only struck when they thought she was belittling them by walking away when she had not been dismissed. Such occasions had mostly happened upon her first few days at the castle, and since then Izo had been safe... for the most part.
Hours passed by, and the visitors began to file into the ballroom, all of them of their kind, and the few humans that were about were either a means of sating hunger or servants tending to their masters.
These gatherings often went as such, beasts and lambs all dancing to the melodious song of her harp.
"That's a nice song you're playing there, does it have a name?" a voice asked to her left and Izo fought the urge to flinch in her seat. Instead she shifted her honey eyes to the shadow of the person. If the accent in the tone wasn't enough to convince her that he was not part of the castle, then his attire was. The shoes the other wore were none that she recognized, thus he could not be one of the house. And they were much too expensive and high class for anyone who did not belong to their kin.
Izo shook her head and continued to play, never once looking away from the strings and their hypnotizing melody.
"That's a shame, such a beautiful song should also be given a name, don't you think?" the man asked softly, continuing to hover around her space.
Izo could only shake her head once again. The foreigner, continued to talk though, his words falling down to her, calling for her attention, but couldn't he see that she couldn't hand it over?
"You know the song you're playing reminds me of a time that I went up north, have you ever been up north?"
When Izo didn't respond, the strange man continued to speak. "Well, there's this city up there, it's actually quite small some few hundred people live there, and every quarter of every year they have this festival to bring in the seasons. So they have one for Winter, Spring, Summer, Autumn. I hung around there for two years and I was lucky enough to witness all of them not once but twice!" the man stated, and Izo could see his shadow as he extended his hand, displaying his two fingers rather proudly.
A pause followed his words, and Izo had a nagging feeling that he was waiting on a sort of verbal cue from her to allow him to continue talking. But she did nothing except bring her gaze back to the strings of her harp as she continued to play her instrument.
"Spring was my favorite one, I mean sure the other seasons were quite spectacular, Summer with all of the spicey menus and the bright reds and oranges decorating every inch of the streets; Winter with the whites and blues and warm desserts; Autumn was a mixture of the two but with entirely different colors more muted calmer and yet still so lively. But Spring." The man let out a wistful sigh.
"I'm afraid I'm going to miss it this year since I'm running this errand for Oyaji." He gave a small good natured chuckle. "Ah not that I mind, I like doing things for the old man, and it isn't like the town is going anywhere anytime soon. But it really is a sight to see if you ever get a chance. Just imagine it." he said his voice getting lower and Izo could not tear her attention away from that voice no matter how much she tried.
"The city is lined with every blooming flower you can think of: morning glories, roses tainted with the rainbow, flowers that put the sun to shame, lilies, daisies, lavender, pansies, hibiscus', name any flower and I assure you they have somehow attained one and placed it on display. And the music, it's like nothing you've ever heard, it might as well have been music from the angels the way every dainty string is pulled and strummed, every delicate flute is played, and then someone joins in with one of those…" the man trails off as he ponders the name of the other instrument, "you know, the one with all of the colorful piano looking things that you tap on with the drumsticks*, and someone somewhere has a triangle, because someone always has a triangle." the man laughs and Izo can't help but let a small smile turn the corner of her painted lips.
It had been brief at first, the beginnings of a daydream, when he had started to speak of the other seasons. For in her mind she could see the things he described albeit in a way that people remembered a hazy thought. But the more the man spoke the more clear the images came to her, and those wonderful visions became more and more tantalizing. Izo could see every flower he spoke of, she could see every instrument he tried to name and she could hear the sounds he described as if they were being born in that very room she was in.
And when he spoke about the food that was served at these events, her mouth watered with the phantom scents, while her mind provided the enticing images of glazed sweets, the roasted feasts and the games that the villages played for the event. Her main focus however, were the flowers that flooded the streets. Izo's beginning smile widened more and more the more she was allowed to see this wonderful sight of the many flora, she even saw some she knew not the names to. And how she longed to know the names of those flowers. What she would give to spend a day there?
Her own wistful sigh was exhaled before she could stop it and her fingers froze.
Izo could feel eyes on her, just as clearly as she could hear the approaching footsteps as if they were made of thunder instead of muffled claps against the marble floor. By stopping in her playing, she had made her presence known, she had turned their eyes on her. Izo had broken one of the rules that she was never meant to break and that was to never under any circumstances divert the attention of their guests in her direction.
For to steal their attention, then she was essentially stating that she was much more important than the residents of the castle. And while they had allowed the man who was near her to speak and hover about her person, the pause in her music was not something they would tolerate.
The heavy steps of the castle's head butler came ever closer and Izo's fear escalated along with the closed proximity between her and the man. She knew what was coming, so she braced for it, her muscles tensed underneath the deceptively thin attire she wore.
Closer and closer they came, and though she knew better, Izo wanted to bolt. The punishment for running was worse, yet she could not supress the need. Fighting was not instilled in her person, and against these beasts, she was a mere fly. Thus, flight was a much more appealing option, even for a few more seconds of not feeling pain. But Izo didn't dare and move, she doubted she could even if she wanted to, for fear froze her where she sat.
No sooner had the other paused when the whistle sliced through the air and a sharp sting blossomed at her side. The wooden rod used to correct her mistake was harsh on her covered skin, able to make bruises even through the two layers that stood between it and her person.
"The Master had made himself abundantly clear that you were not to pause for any reason tonight." the man hissed and though her eyes were closed against the pain she was to endure, Izo knew another blow was coming.
She did not need her eyes to see the outcome, for she had been forced to play the very same scene one too many times, and had of course been a witness to it as well when others of the household failed to follow their instructions.
What she had never seen, nor would ever be able to foresee, was the event that occurred next. The rod whistled its cry as it neared her, but instead of connecting with Izo's burning side, it found another target.
The sound of the rod hitting flesh resounded around the room, though that in no way compared to the collective gasp that was given from the patrons of the event.
"Now that isn't very nice." A sweet voice spoke above her. "A man should never hit a lady, under any circumstances. Well unless she stole your undergarments, then I suppose she could be entitled to a light tap to the wrist and a very stern talking to. But abuse my good man?" The foreigner's voice lowered to the end of his speech.
"That I shall not forgive." He nearly growled, and Izo had to work hard not to flinch under the two men, the sweet voice that had given her so many beautiful images was angered, and for some unexplainable reason, she did not want to hear anger in that voice.
"Step away from her, she is done for the night, understand?"
"But Sire…" the Butler attempted, his words falling off into silence.
And it was then that Izo dared to slit her eyes open, just minimally so. The shadows were still interacting to her side, the wooden baton held between the two, though the foreigner was standing much taller than the head butler.
"Offer him my apologies, but the harpist has come down with an illness and she is to get her rest." he said smoothly, no longer carrying the same light tone as before, but a more refined and commanding presence that brought the last piece of the puzzle to Izo's mind.
"Of course Sire, I will…" the manservant gulped. "I will inform the Count."
"You do that." the man said and Izo saw him release the wooden rod, letting the man go.
Then the unexpected happened, a hand was laid on her shoulder and Izo jumped on her perch. Her golden eyes widened and fixated on the floor underneath her but she followed the procedure as she was taught. With numb fingers Izo undid the knots on her bandages and let the thin cloth glide down to the floor, revealing her arm and offering it to the foreigner. A moment went without either of them moving, but then his hand released her shoulder and in the most gentlest of touches he held her arm.
However, he did not do either of the things he was supposed to do. He did not latch his fangs onto her wrist, nor did he produce a knife to slice open the healing skin. Instead his finger ran along the length of her arm and Izo had to physically refrain from shuddering under him, or worse, pulling away.
His eyes were no doubt tracing the interlacing scars and healing puncture wounds. Even without looking at her wrists, she knew what he was looking at, what she was forced to look at every night when she tended to her marks. Her skin was a map of pinks, whites, yellows, and pale blues from the oldest of wounds to the newest and it seemed that such a used arm was not to his liking.
Izo's head ducked as she held her breath. If she could not play the harp, and if she couldn't give them the drink they desired from her, then what good was she? What reason did they have now to keep her in the castle? Her usefulness was quickly declining and such a fate promised only one thing.
Death.
Was this how it was to end? A short life with nothing but a battered body and soul to show for it?
A gentle hand moved away from her arm and swiped at her painted face, and again Izo fliched. But still she dared not remove her eyes from the floor. The floor before her that distorted with the film of building tears, that was what the man had cleaned her face of, tears.
And she was certain that that small tear would be the one to seal her fate. She had broken three rules in a mere span of ten seconds. She had stopped playing and caused a commotion, she was unable to sate the appetite of the one above her, and crying was strictly forbidden.
The blow she was expecting never came, much to her growing surprise. Instead, her arm was released and an arm slipped under her and the world underneath her fell to nothingness as she was hoisted into his arms and was led out of the room.
Izo's heart raced in her chest, though unlike the beating organ, her mind refused to work. Izo's mind was quiet and numb. Everything she had come to know, everything that had been ingrained in her mind was being tossed at her face and by the appearance of a stranger.
The Count would have never stood for such insolence, he would have never allowed her to not receive her punishment, and he most certainly wouldn't have refused to feed from her. Izo had outrun her usefulness, she was worthless.
You're nothing more than trash. Scum that should have never been born. You're just another freak that's here to poison the world.
The harsh memory slapped Izo out of her thoughts and she swallowed thickly. It seemed that he had been right all along. It was only a matter of time until things caught up to her and she was cleansed from existence.
"Hey now, it's okay. You can forget them now." a soft voice spoke and Izo was surprised once more by the change in tone.
A door closed and Izo realized then that she was not in any familiar part of the castle, she was not in the servants wing, the rug underneath was too lush, too expensive. Even the smell of the place screamed of a better life than what she knew. She was in the Count's wing and that terrified her.
Izo's breath hitched and before she knew it she had bolted from the man's arms and scrambled to the door. There was no plan in her mind, nothing more than needing to escape and go. She just needed to get as far away from them as she could and then... what?
Her bruised fingers paused against the wooden door and she lowered her head pressing it against the sturdy wood. What was the point of running away, she was trapped in the castle and the area around it was foreign to her. Her fate was sealed whether she stayed or attempted to run, and the latter only promised to be worse than the former.
Defeat slumped her shoulders and Izo waited.
*Oh, the xylophone is the piano like instrument Thatch is talking about*
Well I can't say your lack in feedback is not disappointing, cuz it is. I know it was just the prologue, but sheesh, lol.
So how about you humor me and let me know whether you care about this or not? I have the next chapter and a half ready, but if no one likes it then what's the point in my wasting the effort on it when I could do other things?
Anyway, enjoy your day and thank you to those that at the very least favorited and followed!