I was a kid when Father found me. Greece was falling to the Roman empire and we were all preparing to die. I was an orphan. I don't know why I was an orphan. I've never known why. My first memory, the only memory, is of sitting in the dirt of this street and looking up at a man who was smiling down at me as if I was the most important little thing in the world. He had beautiful eyes. Yellow. Glowing. The moon lit him up like he was a God. He shone. He was brilliant. And he wrapped me in a blanket and told me, "I'm going to take you away, little one. Would you like to be safe and live forever?"

And I was a child. I said yes. Of course I wanted to live forever. Of course I wanted to be safe forever. I'd never known safety. Only hunger and pain. Hunger so bad it felt like my spine was deteriorating into my stomach. My body was eating itself so that I would survive. And Father took me home. He took me to this house, far away from Greece. We traveled by night. I never knew what he was, even when he showed his true face. There was never fear inside of me. He was saving me from the greatest evil in the world. He fed me each day and he protected me. There were others with him. Others who looked at me as if I were a snack. During the day, I slept where he slept, curled beneath his cape, safe from harm. During the night, he took me out with him and tucked me high into the trees so that I could be safe while he fed. I never even knew what he was doing. He would wander away from me to feed so I wouldn't see him, then return to me and tell me stories about the moon. He would tell me how it raised in the sky by great gods, so great that humans feared them. Raised to light the way for the children of the night. I didn't know what the children of the night were then. But I knew that they sounded beautiful and holy.

It took us weeks to travel to the place we were escaping to. A big, beautiful castle somewhere North. And when we got there, Father told me I was a princess. He told me that the castle was mine. That everything I wanted was mine. And he dressed me in beautiful robes and anointed me with oil and herbs, and bathed me in blood. I didn't know what the blood was then. It took me a long time to understand what I was being bathed in. It was the blood of virgins. But I was a child. I splashed in it. I reveled in playing in the big, warm, salty tub. And they chanted around me, and then I understood the universe. I knew what people were going to do. I was the great advisor. I could tell them whether they were going to die or survive when they did it. I couldn't look past it. I couldn't see what would happen. I couldn't tell them. It hurt to talk. It hurt to tell them. So I didn't.

I grew like that. The ritual has to be repeated every sixty years so that I don't age. So that I can be restored to health. But Father knew that I wouldn't be happy as a seven year old my entire life. So he let me age a little at a time. Nothing that would harm me drastically. Nothing that would draw attention to myself. Sixty years passed and I aged to nine. Sixty years passed and I went up to ten. But through all that time, I was happy in my father's castle. I loved my life. I was surrounded, protected, reveled. Vampires and demons came from all around to ask for my advice. To ask if what they would do was going to help or hurt their cause. My job was never to tell them what they wanted to hear. It was never to give them the answers they wanted. It was a simple yes or no. And that won me no favors.

By my three hundredth year, there'd been six assassination attempts on my life. I wasn't supposed to wonder during the night. I was confined indoors until I could grow and be trained. I started studying fighting and the occult. I learned spells, witchcraft. I wasn't just the decision maker. She who brought light to the darkness. I was a danger to those who wished to hurt me. I learned the greatest thing I could ever do. I learned to give souls back to the soulless ones. Which made me quite the enemy to the soulless ones, and quite the gift to my father.

After I learned to give souls back, we moved a lot. Father was the king of his estate, there was no question to that. We traveled, punishing those that did wrong. Punishing those that brought undue attention to our kind, that killed for pure malice and brought danger to us in our way. We would stay in a place for such a short time. Perhaps one life time, perhaps two. We never stayed for more than two revivals. We made too many enemies. Many of them died. Either after I gave them their soul back or before. Some of them killed themselves once they had their souls back. That was easier. There was too much pain in their hearts and they drove themselves into stakes. Father and I watched like we were the holy ones. I aged and the further I aged, the more like the soulless ones that I became. But the blood I was washed in renewed my innocence, renewed my health, and renewed my lust for human life. To protect it. To care for it. I was the most innocent killer you'd ever want to meet.

Then, we caught wind that a war was brewing in the new states. A young country. We ignored their first couple of wars. We had bigger things going on in France at the time. But the Civil War was our time and place. It was death and destruction and hatred and fun. So we moved there. I was sixteen at the time. Or my body was sixteen at the time. And, although I knew it was a good decision, I didn't like it. I was still getting used to being without a castle. We had a nice set of property. A sprawling acreage and a beautiful house, but no castle. I was a spoiled princess. But, in the States, I was allowed to wander as I pleased. So I did. And that's when I met James.

It was 1861. We'd arrived two years before, waiting for the tensions to boil over. Of course, there was a rash of vampire creation. Most of which died fairly quickly. And they didn't quite know that I was something to be feared. That I was a princess. So I became fairly used to being one of those that killed them. And it was tiresome. I loved the soulless ones. I didn't enjoy killing them. But I still wandered at night. And it was on a dark, almost moonless night that I was out at a well, reading poetry when the pondering entered my brain. Should I? Shouldn't I? She's weak. She smells of them. She smells of us.

"That is a bad idea," I informed the vampire in the shadows. "And I should know."

He stalked out into the moonlight and that's when I saw him. He was tall and beautiful, for a soulless one. He had the darkest hair and the lightest eyes I'd seen on one so pale. His union uniform was still tattered, ragged, blood stained. He hadn't even been buried. Simply left on the battlefield. He was so young. He'd been taken when he was barely sixteen. A baby.

"I'm so thirsty," he panted. "So hungry."

"Did you just wake up?" I asked him.

"Who are you?"

"I am a princess, sweetheart. You're confused. The demon hasn't taken full hold yet. You don't want to feed on me."

"I need to feed."

"Then go somewhere else. I don't have time for you."

"The sun is going to come up soon and I can't wait. I'm going to die of hunger. I'm going to die."

I studied him. He was panting, clutching at his body. His creator hadn't cared enough for him to move him out of potential sunlight. Create and run. It was the way they did things then. It was disgusting. It was cruel. He was a baby. I conjured a wine glass and informed him, "You are going to get a taste. Do you understand me? I can kill you if I choose. You don't know who I am now, but you will soon. If you survive past sunlight. Keep your distance, sweetheart. What's your name?"

I pulled my knife from beneath my skirt and he followed the path of my hand as it traveled beneath my petticoat. Then, it was typical for a woman to remain completely covered, completely virtuous. As I ran the knife along my palm, he replied, "My name is James. Umm…what's yours?"

His tongue traced across his lips, watching my blood drip into the cup slowly. I answered, "Vengala Denlanite. Bringer of the Light, Keeper of the Dark. Decision maker and creator of knowledge. She who rose from the blood of the lamb to lead the lions forth into righteousness. She who is protected by those that live in the night. She who loves those without the souls and she who restores pain and fear to those who do wrong."

"That's quite a name. Do you have anything shorter?"

"No." I clenched my hand tight and let the blood run faster into the cup.

"You said you were a princess, right?"

"I am a princess. My father is a king." I reached under my petticoat to rip off a piece of white linen, knowing Father would replace any clothing I ruined. I sat the cup on the well lip beside me and wrapped my hand tight in the cloth. I nodded towards the cup and he raced to reach it. He drained the cup as quickly as he could.

"Why are you helping me, princess?" He demanded after he choked down the liquid.

"It's in the title, sweetheart. Are you still thirsty?"

"Always."

"Well, that will get you through the night. I will warn you now. My family and I do not allow killing. We do not allow what happened to you. If I find that you become as Angelus and Spike, I will have your life ended. I will return your soul to you and you will feel as if you are burning from the inside out. The deaths of thousands will fill your body. Then, we will cut you to pieces. Beginning with your limbs, and ending with your head. Feed in the most harmless way you can. Do not challenge me."

"Well, you're not the normal princess type, are you?" He put the glass down on the edge of the well and grinned at me.

"I would leave now, if I were you," I warned. "Daylight comes soon and I can sit in it. You cannot."

"I'm going to guess that this isn't normal, but thanks."

"See you around, James."