AN- Hello all! Agon here! Sorry for the longer wait on this, we really didn't mean for it to take this long, but... RL got in the way. Without further ado- we present Chapter 4!
Chapter 4- Ironic
Art finished reading and sat back from the old computer with a heavy sigh. She felt for the family she had recently been accepted into. To live for so long with such a surrounding of oppressive hatred... it boggled her mind. She had been disliked in the past- even hated for what she was- but not to the same extent as the Dessler family. Even the past few months since she lost Erik's trust couldn't compare.
Art knocked softly on the door to Erik's sitting room. She loved being here, but after leaving Shreveport so suddenly, she really did need to get back. She heard the quiet conversation inside halt and the sounds of a glass being put down. Moments later, the door opened slightly.
"Yes?" Erik asked her softly. She was unsure why, though she did copy his tone and volume, figuring he had a good reason.
"I just got a call from Eri- from Northman." She spoke just as softly. "He wants to know when I will be back in the States."
She was surprised when Erik gave a slight warning growl. "Chere, now is not the-" He was cut off as the second person in the room stepped up behind him.
A quick look showed him to be tall and broad, with long black hair that had been tied back and piercing red eyes. He ran his eyes over Art and took a quick, deep breath. His eyes showed his surprise at what he found and Art shivered in response to his power. "Erik, you failed to inform me you had acquired a wolf."
The stiffening of Erik's spine was barely noticeable unless you were either standing close to him or extremely observant- meaning both the man in the room and Art noticed it. "We had not come to a point in our conversation suited to discussing it my lord." He said in a voice as stiff as his spine.
Art fought down a shiver and with it, her urge to bolt. She instinctively knew that the power this man held could be dangerous. "I'm sorry, Erik, I didn't know there was company. I'll ask you again when you're free."
The man moved closer so that he was standing directly behind Erik. One of his hands came up to rest on Erik's shoulder and the other reached forward to almost caress the outline of Art's cheek, causing her to suppress another shudder. "No child, you are welcome to stay. Our business is concluded." The fact that the hand tightened minutely only emphasized this point.
Art took a few stabilizing breaths. She realized there was really no way for her to escape. 'This guy can't be any worse than the Magistrate and Queen Sophie-Ann.' she thought to herself as she took one last steadying breath. She made sure to keep her head down as she spoke, "It would be my pleasure, milord."
Erik offered and arm to her and led her into the room, toward the couch. She kept her head bowed and sat at Erik's feet when he sat, remembering the coaching Pam had given her several years ago for her first meeting with the Mississippi Queen. She felt the unknown man's eyes follow her as she moved. They stayed on her when he spoke. "You have not properly introduced me to this lovely creature, Erik, and what is the nature of your having acquired her?"
"Forgive me m'lord." Erik said with a mock apologetic look and bow. "This is Artimus de la Lune. I am training her for a friend. Artimus, ma petite, it is my pleasure to introduce to you Lord Vlad Dracul, sovereign of the Black Court."
The name was familiar to Art and she instantly remembered everything Godric had told her about the Dessler family connections with this particular vampire. She hoped she would not need to use the information he had told her to get out of this. She bowed her head deeply from her seated position, "A pleasure, your majesty."
The recently identified Vlad reached forward and, while giving off a low purr, ran her fingers through her hair. "Such a well rained little pup she is Erik. I see you have not lost your touch."
"Merci, m'lord" Erik nodded in stiff acceptance of Vlad's praise.
"And your smell little one, is absolutely intoxicating, yet your Master does not offer to let me taste." He sniffed and his eyes glazed in pleasure. When they had cleared, he sent a reproachful look at Erik. "Why I wonder?"
Art knew that if a decent excuse was not given, there was a high chance she would not be residing in the Dessler manor after tonight, nor would she be aloud to return to America. "May I speak, majesty?"
"You may, little one." Vlad purred his approval a second time.
"When I was given to Master Dessler for training, my Master requested I not be bitten while in his care." Art kept her head down as she spoke.
"I see, and who is your Master, pray tell, little one?"
Art lifted and held her head proud, meeting his eyes. "Eric Northman, Childe of Godric, Sire to Pamela Ravenscroft, Sheriff of Area 5 of Louisiana."
"And yet... and yet he does not send you to a far closer trainer. I have to wonder why." Vlad took another deep breath. "The scent of both Angels of Death is on you. Why Gustav as well, I have to wonder. It is not like Northman to associate with such."
Art lowered her eyes again. "It is not my place to question him, majesty. But, recently there have been stirrings against certain people in power across the North American continent. I believe he wishes to have a person he trusts trained to protect specific people who belong to his court. With the training of a servant, I will be able to see and hear much more than he can alone. After all, no one pays attention to the servants."
The first response to this statement was a dark cackle that, if Art had been in her four-legged form, would have sent the fur on her back straight up. She again found herself having to suppress the urge to bolt as he began to circle her. "Clever, clever girl...Hmm. There is no mark of claim upon you little one, and with your scent and cleverness... You would make such a desirable asset." His words caused Erik to growl and stand behind her, his hands tangled in her hair.
Art realized the tension in the room was mounting and that something needed to defuse it soon. She would need to play her trump card. The only trick- play it without alerting Erik to what it was. Art didn't want to put his family in the middle but Godric told her it may be the only way for her to stay safe while being unclaimed in the vampire society. Deciding quickly, she reached back and softly touched Erik's ankle to gain his attention. "Master Dessler, I notice your glasses are empty. May I fill them for you?"
It took a short time, but as the two began to settle, Erik nodded to her. "Oui ma petite, you may."
She sniffed quickly to identify the liquid the two had been consuming. With a small nod, she gathered their glasses and stood to walk over to a small self-standing cabinet. The cabinet opened to display not only a selection of fine wines but also a small fridge which contained small red-filled bags. She proceeded to fill one of the glasses with the appropriate wine and the other with the contents of one of the small bags. When done, she brought the two glasses back and place them in front of their respective drinkers- Erik first, and then Vlad. As she moved to set Vlad's on the table, she spoke softly to him, only loud enough for him to hear. "Be careful the game you play. You may lose, Alucard."
She hear a low, dangerous growl in response and a quick look showed Vlad appearing strangely similar to a statue. Art refused to allowed herself a glance at Erik, she couldn't put him in the middle. After a few moments, Vlad suddenly stood, his face a mask of hatred and murder. "I do not know at what game you are playing, Dessler, but rest assured, I will find out who this little vixen is and what you keep from me." He moved close to Art and hissed in a voice full of venom, "You'd best watch yourself little one, because there will come a day when you are not safe in the arms of whatever master you serve, and it is that night that you will be mine." The next either of the two knew, he was gone.
Their reactions were very different. Art let out the breath she didn't realize she was holding, finished setting the drink down with shaking hands, and all but collapsed to the floor. Erik, conversely, composes himself quickly and begins to circle Art with a growl.
"What did you say to him?" Erik bit out. Art's only response was to jump slightly and whimper in fear. When she refused to respond, Erik roughly grabbed her hair and dragged her to a nearby study. She heard the door slam, the bolt slide into place, and felt him tug harshly on her hair. He looked down at her now upturned face and spoke in a deathly cold voice, "I asked you a question, little one, and if you know what is good for you, you will answer me."
Art closed her eyes and whimpered again. "I can't."
"There are two choices youngling, listen closely. You will either answer me, or I will make you answer me. The later is most displeasurable, considering, so far as I know, you are still innocent. Therefore, I strongly suggest you begin to speak, and quickly." Erik's voice had gone flat, as though his threats were normal, everyday conversation. Art wondered if she had traded one bad situation for another- out of the frying pan and into the fire, as it were.
Despite her fear, she choked out, "Can't."
Erik snarled, threw her down, and pinned her to the floor, his fangs at her throat. "You would rather jeopardize this house in favor of keeping yourself safe, then very well. Never did I think you the sort I would have to torture in such a fashion, but if that is the way it must be..." He rose and moved toward a wall as she began to curl inward. As she watched, he drew down a multi-tailed whip, and she curled even tighter, trying to protect her face and belly. Erik brought the whip down, yelling, "Tell me!" She howled as it bit into the skin across her back and upper arm. The crash she heard didn't even cause her to look up, even though she knew Gus had come to her rescue. All she could do was whimper and shake as darkness closed in and her wolf berated her for angering the Alpha.
Art shivered as she laid a hand softly over her upper arm, feeling the scars that now lay there. The days that followed were dark indeed for her. Coincidentally, the day Erik began to trust her again was the very same incident that Gustav was asking about. She sat forward and opened a new document and began writing to him...
Gus,
I'm sorry for the tone in my last letter. I... For many years I was trained to tell people what they wanted to hear and not what I needed them to. This was not out of worry for them or stemming from a desire for them not to worry. I was taught to do it because I found out very shortly after my Dad's death that the people I was surrounded by simply didn't care nor did they want to. It's funny though, now I use this very same upbringing to try to keep a being who cares very deeply from worrying. Isn't it ironic? It's like... meeting the man of my dreams... and then meeting his beautiful wife.
On that note, please understand I don't really view Corin that way. I owe my life to her, really. If it weren't for her kindness- or her bravery- there is a good chance, I wouldn't be writing to you at all. Her, Father, and Mother are helping me in a way I didn't realize I needed after my Dad died. And yes, my Dad is dead, but he is not the one I mean when I say Father. That is related to Cor and the reason why I can even write to you.
xxxx
When you told me you had to leave for an assignment, I was afraid, as I'm sure you noticed. Without you here, I would have nothing protecting me. It was the reason I didn't go downstairs to see you off. Cor told you I felt sick, and really I did, but it was a sickness of my own creation. After the Vlad incident, I never allowed myself to go near Erik- I was much too afraid of him. The morning you left, I sat in the chair in front of the window and watched the car drive away and then I stared at the spot you climbed in for hours. Cor brought dinner up to me.
Within a few days, I fell into a routine- wake up, sit in the chair, stare at the spot you left, try to eat what Cor gave me, stare some more, sleep. Many days, I would not dress and eventually I ate less and less. I felt like I had been abandoned. I know it wasn't true but it was like... like I was swimming in a tide, and quickly losing my strength. Cor did her best. She would talk to me despite the fact I never replied, feed me when I became too weak to feed myself, try to make me as comfortable as possible. I'm sure there were some days when it felt like she was a nurse to a hospice patient. She would make a wonderful one- a nurse, that is.
It may be a surprise to you, but even my wolf was against me. The scars that should have developed and healed on my back and arm never did and often I would find myself unable to move because of the pain. My wolf refused to let me heal. It had gone to the point of denying me a human's healing. They have since scarred over but that was only after everything reached a boiling point.
I was not aware of the days passing. I knew the sun rose and fell like always, but the days becoming weeks and then months had no concept in my mind. I was in a constant fog, the thoughts in my mind swirling so thickly and knotted I could barely reason one line completely, much less communicate. Cor finally realized neither of us could continue like that. I found out later, she was the one who had approached Erik about speaking with me.
As I said before, I had no concept of time. There was day and there was night. Eating had become a chore, as had self-care. I simply sat, staring. And then I noticed something out of the corner of my eye, a paper. My eyes flicked down to the simple message. 'Come to my study. Noon. ~OG' At this point, any movement stretched my already thin skin, causing my back to be consumed in fire. I could not have made that appointment if I had wanted to. And so I went back to staring out the window, at the spot you had left. And time had ceased moving once again for me.
When I was again aware of something other than my thoughts, I heard a voice. "You did not make our appointment, Chere." It was Erik. My mind had many dark thoughts running through it. The most prevalent was that he had finally come to get the information he so coveted out of me. Second strongest was that he would end the dance I had played with him though my hiding. I remember praying he would make it quick and painless. The only outward showing that I had heard him was a slow blink. "Come." he said to me, and he turned to leave expecting me to rise and follow. He did not understand that it was beyond my ability to.
I remember opening my lips slightly and rasping out in a voice I had not used in a long time. "Can't." It was soft and I remember not believing I had said anything, but he had heard and paused. I closed my eyes and felt a tear slide down my cheek, "Help?" I whispered with the barest of whimpers.
He walked back to the chair and as he moved to kneel in front of me, I opened my eyes again- begging silently for his forgiveness and his help. His face had such a look of horror... I won't let myself ask what he saw. He reached up his hand and brushed away the tear on my cheek and let the hand fall to rest lightly on my arm- the same arm that had not yet healed from his punishment. I quickly closed my eyes and drew in a breath, and he knew. "Ma fille, porquois?" he asked me. I could do nothing but whimper.
xxxx
I remember little else from that night, but I am told that he woke the servants in a frenzy to prepare a small meal and had a bed large enough for both myself and Cor moved to his rooms. He has taken care of me since that night... Gus, he has become my Father in everything but blood.
So now I hope you understand why Father has been keeping you in the field for longer than normal. He is giving me a chance to heal and to accept forgiveness. I still can't walk. But he has promised that, after this assignment, you can come home for a few days. Both of us are looking forward to it.
Stay Safe,
Artimus
P.S.
I will gladly hold your secrets close to my heart, but as for redemption- that is between yourself and your God. It doesn't matter one bit what those pompous, bigoted, self-centered, pedophiliac, arse-wipes think. They don't decide your future or what happens after death. (Just don't tell Mother I said that.)