Disclaimer: I do not own Vampire Academy or anything surrounding it (but I do own this plot :D)
JPOV
The guests started flooding into the hall in waves, happily chatting away with one another without even sparing us a second glance. I managed to spot Harriet and her family quite quickly, smiling when I saw that she was wearing the pale, turquoise gown that I had seen earlier. She looked absolutely beautiful, in fact, they all did. Robert and Tamara were coordinated with their greens and Julia was sporting a fiery red which fitted right in with the décor of the room. Glancing past them I saw their guardians – Emyl amongst them, as well as Mathew – in their uniforms slowly drifting towards the inner circle of pillars or the walls to keep a distance between themselves and the Moroi, but to still keep an eye on them.
The rest of society was equally as stunning. It seemed the notion of an audience with the Queen was incentive enough for them to grasp at perfection as much as it was for us not to fuck up. Both men and women alike had evidently spent a tiresome amount of hours – probably starting the day just like Harriet at half five in the morning – just to appear utterly flawless and the result, as they'll be glad to hear, was extremely creditable.
I suddenly felt incredibly under-dressed.
But I suppose that was the point: I mean, I was supposed to have the same likeness and appearance as a standard issue shadow, but my sentiment was extended to the rest of the gathered party as soon as the huge, grand, double doors were opened again and the Queen herself glided in upon being announced. The room became silent in its awe as each member of the Moroi Court bowed upon her entry. I could see the Royal Guard flank her majesty and move with almost robotic tendencies to position themselves appropriately whilst Guardian Demort, who occupied the position just to the right of the gigantic, carved wooden doors, puffed his chest with an inexpressible pride that I genuinely thought would result in him exploding all over the assembled guests.
Meanwhile, Tatiana gave her address to the crowd, welcoming them all and to her esteemed guests from abroad. Her conclusion was met with a round of applause and the entire hall fell into a light hum of chatter. A soft piano melody accompanied this as an undertone, giving the whole event a pleasant aura.
I sighed, knowing that this would be my life for the next four/five hours. I stood and silently surveyed the room, looking for Harriet. I found her amongst a huddle of people, all of whom appeared about our age and spoke with a slightly over-dramatized sense of excitement. They were joking and gossiping and Harriet smiled sweetly and laughed at all the correct moments, but I could tell she was uncomfortable. Whenever she was put in a situation that left her uneasy and awkward, she would start fiddling with her hands and, whilst I knew she was trying to be discrete about it, I could see her fiddling from where I stood. I just wanted to dive in and save the poor girl from her discomfort and, looking past her shoulder, I could see Emyl felt the same. He was watching her like a hawk and I could see his expression harden every time her hands began fiddling again.
I tore my gaze away, knowing if I kept looking I would end up marching over and essentially ending my career there and then. I spotted Julia not too far away with Tamara; they were both engaged in conversation with other female Moroi and seemed relatively contented, though Julia did seem a little distracted. Understandable really; she probably was conscious that her daughter was currently enduring the rather unpleasant side of upper society.
An hour passed, and then another, yet the dynamic didn't change. But to be completely honest, I was actually starting to enjoy myself. It reminded me a little of my field experience back at St Vladimir's; not to mention how much more interesting my view was. There was no denying the beauty of the Court and its grounds, but at half past one in the morning on a cold February day, its appeal faltered a little. In watching the Moroi, however, I learnt a great deal about how they acted and more importantly, how they moved. For the most part, they remained in allotted groups which seemed to flow between one another like gentle currents in rivers. Added to this was a certain repetition which, when I noticed it, I decided to hypothesise means of attack through their weakest points and how they could be 1) prevented or 2) intercepted. I almost turned it into a game. I do realise it is a bit weird fantasising about the many different ways the people who you are supposed to be protecting could be attacked and killed by a group of the ravenous un-dead, but it was far more tolerable than nine-hundred and ninety-nine green bottles.
"Janine!"
I froze. My whole body locked in a solid state of horror as I heard my name. I mentally begged that they weren't talking to me, that there was just another 'Janine' standing somewhere nearby. Alas, no such luck.
"You didn't tell me you were running this party, Kitty." Alastair Kravitz – in all his charismatic glory – came striding up towards me. I could see the other guardians around me looking over with varying expressions of confusion and disgust.
"All guardians are required to work tonight, Mr Kravitz." I said as steadily as I could, keeping my gaze fixed straight ahead of me rather than anywhere near him.
"I know, but it is still a pleasure seeing you," he said with a smile. My eyebrows were battling with an expression of confusion or a scowl, so instead I just frowned over at him. I had already stated the Moroi had done a fine job in making themselves look spectacular and Alastair was no exception: the tux he wore was perfectly fitted and did well in showing his naturally shaped figure. Even I had to admit, he was incredibly good-looking, a fact only spoiled by his character. It really just goes to show: you cannot have everything.
"Would you like to come outside with me?"
I blinked. "What?" His expression softened under light amusement as he repeated what I thought I heard him say, but ruled as completely inappropriate and fantastical, in the first place. Stumped beyond all reasonable doubt, all recollection of the English language left me. I barely managed a "why?" before I succumbed completely to my own state of astonishment.
Alastair, on the other hand, seemed as cool and as collected as ever and merely shrugged at my shocked expression. "Just to talk, have a chat – you know, like normal people do."
"I am on duty,Mr Kravitz," I sternly reminded him as I glanced at the guardians standing around me. Thankfully, most remained completely indifferent to my present circumstance and I was grateful for the lack of appalled looks.
"I know," Alastair said, "I thought you'd like a break, perhaps a little fresh air. It is quite stuffy in here." He pointed out.
That, I could not fault him on, but it was completely beside the point. "That is not how this works." I all but growled, begging that he would take the hint and leave me be.
Sadly, he did not. "Not allowed! By who? Your supervisor? Which one is he?" he exclaimed, looking down the long line of guardians that were stationed against the wall. I still hadn't managed to locate Guardian Croft among the sea of bodies in the room, but I had a feeling he knew exactly where I was and, more importantly, would definitely notice if I just waltzed outside with some random Moroi. I resumed glaring at Alastair, not because he had just assumed that my supervisor was a man – a completely separate argument, and one that I really did not feel like going into – but now his bothering me was not beginning to really bother the guardians around me. I could see them getting progressively more irritated with every second that Alastair remained. Even Drew, who had been undoubtedly daydreaming for the past two hours, was glancing over with a mixed range of concern.
It was now imperative that I got rid of Alastair.
"Mr Kravitz, might I suggest you re-join the party," I said, composing myself enough to manage a smile with that comment as well.
Alastair, whose attention was now removed from scanning his way across my colleagues, turned to face me and smirked, "But I want to talk to you."
Please, God, give me strength!"You may talk to me later," I compromised before I could fully realise what that may entail.
He took a step towards me. "But you are here now…"
I tensed, but maintain my decorum, "Iam working."
"This is a party – you should be having fun."
"It is not my place."
"Says who?"
"That is not for me to say."
"My head is starting to hurt."
"What?"
"I'm getting a little dizzy…"
"What are you talking abo-"
"I think I've had too much to drink." And with that he fell forward. With eyes widening, my reflexes kicked in and I caught him before he hit the ground.
"Mr Kravitz, are you okay?" He was a lot heavily than I thought he'd be and I had to shift his body in my arms just to keep him upright. "Alastair?"
"I..um..umble…" he began to mumbled quite incoherently and I frantically began looking around for anyone who could help. The guardians around me looked over, once again some in disgust and some in concern, but neither party moved for fear of getting hung, drawn and quartered by our resistant, royalist commander, Guardian Demort. The Moroi were was too engrossed in their party to take any notice about what was going on around them.
Which left just me to sort this out.
I figured that one of these people had to be a doctor of some kind but there was no way I was going to disrupt the party just to ask – I may as well just walk unarmed into a Strigoi-invested cave. And I sure as hell couldn't just drop Alastair to the ground and forget about him; someone was bound to notice an unconscious Moroi just lying at my feet. But, if I moved I would have to face the wrath of not only Guardian Croft but also the wrath of the entire Guardian community and maybe some of the Moroi one too.
Therefore, I was at crossroads. Added to this, my arms were really starting to ache so I went on my instincts. Carefully shifting his limp body, I guided Alastair towards the door, hoping that the newfound oxygen would relieve him faster as I went to look for a doctor. I lead him outside and towards an isolated corner so I would not be subjected to any stares from the Moroi who were enjoying the evening's cool breeze.
If they noticed a guardian carrying a half-conscious Moroi across the decorated gardens, they didn't act upon it. My journey was unobstructed and I found an isolated bench in which I sat Alastair down only to see his fully conscious face grinning up at me.
Then it hit me.
"Oh, you son of a-!" I stopped myself before I could finish that particular sentence.
"Well, I got you outside, didn't I?" Alastair was still grinning.
I, on the other hand, was fuming. "Do you know how much trouble you've got me in!?" I hissed, perhaps against my better judgement.
Alastair, mercifully, stopped grinning, but the casual smirk that replaced it was not much better. "Janine, you really need not worry so much – have a little fun."
This did little to console my temper and, in fact, it only made it boil over. "Have a little fun!Have a little fun! I cannot just: 'have a little fun'. I am a guardian. It is my duty to protect those that I care about and I will do it until I am six feet under or no more than ash in a jar. That is my purpose and my role. Neither of which requires that I 'have a little fun', in fact, it could very well get, not only me, but others killed. That is my burden. That is my fate. I'm sorry if it doesn't amuseyo-" I was cut off by his lips on my own. The act brought me to silence and I felt nothing of my previous emotions – as if all my feelings, thoughts and reason had been paused; made dormant by the force of his lips and all the stately shock they brought with them.
The sensation overpowered me and rendered me completely defenceless. I could not decide whether I was enjoying the moment or not. Alastair snaked his hands around my waist, pulling me closer. As soon as my mind registered his hand against the indent of my waist it was like reality came crashing down all in one moment, smashing against me like a raging flood. This tsunami hit me hard and fast, evoking a gasp and causing me to shove Alastair away.
"W-"
"Don't say a word." I threatened, pointing directly at him as I tried to gather some bearing on what the fuck was going on and how the hell I had managed to get myself in this situation.
Alastair raised his eyebrows amusedly. "I don't think I was the sole party in this."
"Excuse me: who put whose lips on whom!"
"You kissed me back."
"Oh, I did no-" I cut myself off, realising that I had indeed done just that.
Before I could do anything, or say anything that would make the situation even worse, Alastair closed the space between us that I had creating in shoving him away. "Look, Janine, I like you – a lot. And before you even think about interrupting, I am being serious. I think we could be good together; you and I."
I studied his features critically, daring him to show any signs of mockery. But his softened expression revealed nothing, nothing I could use to doubt him that is. Be even so, I could not shake the scepticism.
Sensing my unease (I mean, I wasn't exactly hiding it), he pulled back a little yet his earnest expression did not falter, "I won't do anything you would not want," he assured, "So I ask you: think about it." And with one final dazzling smile, he began to walk back into the crowd, leaving me with one lingering sentiment:
What. The. Fuck.
Of all the expectations I had for this particular evening, that was certainly not one of them. His taste still lingered on the tender surface of my lips, even after I watched him disappear among the swarm of upper society. I remained rooted to the ground to the point where only the will of God could move me. He must be joking. He couldn't be serious. Could he? As it will surprise no one, I had not much experience in the department of relationships, or men, or relationships with men (be they romantic or otherwise). Whilst Emyl was one of my dearest friends in the whole world, and Drew too seemed to be growing on me, both these individuals acted as an exception to the rule that I had long since determined: one which placed the male gender under a very negative light.
Okay, perhaps that is a little harsh to say – maybe not all men fitted the tainted description I had acquired over the years, but certainly a vast majority, particularly the ones in my acquaintance. Being ostracised during my high school years allowed me to stand witness to their many and frequent forms of attack. Whether that was through cheating, lying, mockery or physical violence – these guys seemed to have all the qualifications needed to be an utter a-hole. That's not to say that they were alone in this because, boy, did I know some very vile females, but I suppose I seem to sympathise with my own kind more.
None of this took away from my present situation in which a male – a Moroi no less – had just put his lips on my own and said that he is genuine. What was I to take from this? That he, a person so decidedly above my own station in life, actually felt some degree of admiration that would seem to completely bypass social norm? Or that he was a lying twat and an equally excellent actor. Needless to say, his performance in getting me out here in the first place was award-worthy. Yet, was he so talented as to look into my eyes and not give away any signs of foul play? Dare I even believe his sincerity?
Thankfully for me, I didn't have to decide because as I was walking back towards the main hall, having finally managed to pry my legs from their frozen state, I had the delight of hearing this conversation between a Moroi I did not know and Tristan Drozdov, my dear old maths buddy:
"Holy shit, he is actually going to do it!"
"He hasn't done it yet, Jay."
"Well, he got her to kiss him. Janine Hathaway, of all people!"
"Yeah, but the bet was to sleep with her. I ain't parting with my cash until he gets past first base and goes straight for the home run."
...
There are no words – none in any widely spoken or, indeed, unspoken language throughout all of this planet's complex and culturally rich history; and, quite possibly, none that could ever be conceived in the near or distant future of said planet – that could properly describe my exact emotions at the one point. Such was my fury, I was genuinely willing to sacrifice my entire life's work just to storm towards them like an enraged, full-force, EF5 tornado, and smack them right in their obnoxious and hateful faces. Oh, did I want to choke them both within an inch of their lives only to make them watch as I cut out the inners!
It was a bloody good thing, then, when another Moroi joined them and changed the conversation. If they had continued speaking, there would've been no stopping me, but this change allowed some of my former control to resurface; just enough to make me turn away which allowed for the next wave to come and convince me to walk.
I didn't walk back into the hall. No: the chance of seeing Alastair was way too high. Instead I walked far and fast away from the crowd. I had never been so glad to be so insignificant for neither guardian nor Moroi took any notice as I all but ran towards the walled garden that backed onto the Royal Court. I passed several couples having a romantic 'session' together which only seemed to make me angrier. Thus, I delved deeper and deeper, my pace quicken until the light trembling I had experience as a consequence of my rage and horror overran my independent will. I collapsed onto the ground, trying to stop myself sobbing hysterically, but to no avail. The gardens were dark and the walls towered around me, but still I felt the need to curl up deeper and deeper in the shadows.
Violated. That was the word. That was the emotion that towered above them all and made me cower like a wound pup. Even though he had not gotten...far, the mere thought – that satanic contemplation that he could have – made me feel dirty and disgusting. I could still feel his lips on my own; futilely, I began frantically trying to wipe his taste with my palms, getting more desperate with each stroke. I stopped fighting – the sobs came out silent, but nonetheless painful. My face became drenched in the cascading tears and caused my body to convulse in, as though I was being staked repeatedly and without mercy.
What a fool I had been – thinking that he could have been genuine? Ha! I had it right before: these Moroi, these male Moroi, were nothing more than spoilt brats who found pleasure in ruining the lives of others. My mother and I never agreed on anything bar this one notion – it was the one piece of advice she gave me and the one piece of advice I had fully embraced. As much as I disliked her, her warning was as clear as it was grounded. Oh, how disappointed she would have been! One lapse was all it took; one lapse is all it will take again.
Pull yourself together!
I mentally screamed at myself. There was no way that this was an acceptable use of my time, never mind my emotions. I had never been so ashamed to be so effected by anything in my entire life. Alastair Kravitz! Of all the people to get this emotional over! Pull yourself together, Hathaway. He just kissed you – nothing more. Sort yourself out!
All of a sudden, I heard a snap. The guardian within me clamped my mouth shut and lifted my head in search of danger. I could still feel my limbs trembling and it was perfectly clear to me that I was in no state to be engaging in a fight, but my hand instinctively drifted towards the sake concealed against my thigh regardless.
I saw a figure among the shadows, behind a hedge. It took a step into my eye-line and I was relieved to find that it was not a Strigoi. What I was not so relieved about – in fact, it just reheated all my dormant anger – was exactly who had stepped into my eye-line: Sergey Kravitz. Father of an abominable bastard! I knew he probably had very little knowledge of what his son was up to with his 'mates' and it was for that reason and that reason alone I had not tackled him to the ground. The hand that had been reaching for my stake fell to the ground and I leant my head back to wait for this anger to subside. As the sentiment that had rendered me thus left me, it allowed for the sound of Sergey's voice to fill my ears. I realised he was speaking, again, on the phone. And, just as before, in Spanish:
"No juegas juegos con me. ¡Donde estas! Tenemos que hacer esto esta noche - no habrá otro oportunidad." There was a pause as whoever was receiving that call made their response. Whatever they said, Sergey seemed pleased. His earlier discontent, evident in his gruff and cold tone, seemed to settle and he smiled. "Muy bien. Muchas gracias, mis amigos estimados. Te voy a ver en breve." He hung up and sighed, running his palms through his hair before scratching his gigantic moustache. He paused for a moment, closing his eyes in the cool night air, before shaking his head and laughing. "Oh, those bastards won't know what's hit them!" he muttered. And, taking one last look at the sky, he disappeared from my sight.
I watched him leave critically. Whatever was left of my enraged temper – and believe me, it was still very much there – I ignored in favour of concern. There was something off. I couldn't place it, but something did not feel right. I had been very wary of the elder Kravitz since I had seen him in Guardian Martyr's empty office. Naturally though, I had put it to one side and focused on not screwing up.
Which reminded me.
"Shit!" I muttered, pushing my still weak limbs to a standing position. How had I allowed my emotions to get the better of me! Stupid, stupid girl! Pathetic! Weak! I forced my legs forward and traced my steps back through the garden. My anger had cooled off substantially – sure, I still wanted to beat Alastair to a pulp, but I was no longer feeling completely murderous and that was good enough for me. I had abandoned my post and whilst I had a feeling Drew wouldn't rat me out, I still felt incredibly ashamed, embarrassed: the lot.
How could I have let this happ-
I was walking so fast and was so distracted by my own chastisement that I was not watching where I was going. I was almost relieved when I saw who I had crashed into.
"Guardian Hathaway, we really must stop meeting like this." Ibrahim said with a chuckle as he dusted himself down, straightening out his tux.
"Forgive me, sir, but I must go," I made to leave, but felt a hand grip against my forearm, dangerous on his part considering what I did on his first encounter. I snapped my head round and gave a slight glare, but he appeared unchanged.
"You've been crying." He stated, his brows furrowed so much that a deep ridge appeared between them as though he had been cut with a knife. "What is the meaning of this?"
"Mr Mazur, please relea-"
"Who did this to you?"
"Please let me-"
"Guardian Hathaway: who did this to you?"
"I must-"
"Answer me!"
"Mr Mazur!"
"Janine!"
We stood there in stalemate. His hand still gripped around my arm, our eyes locked on one another. I could not, no matter how I tried, break his gaze; there was a fire that burnt with such intensity to render any attempt at overcoming it useless. I could feel my resolve faltering as I tried to stop my trembling jaw.
Finally, I managed to steady myself enough to address him. "Mr Mazur, please release me, so I might return to my post."
But Ibrahim did not move. He studied as I had never seen anyone do before. "Janine," he said softly, "who did this to you?"
"It is of no consequence." I replied, looking down to where his hand was wrapped around my forearm.
"Forgive me if I don't believe you," there was an edge to his tone which I had never heard from him before. A coldness that contrasted almost every perception I had of him.
Yet his coldness sparked my fire. I snatched my arm away and met his gaze once more. "Believe what you want: it's what you all do anyway. The rest of us are just here for your entertainment." The words had left my mouth before I could fully think them through, but somehow I did not regret them.
Ibrahim's gaze held, its intensity unchanged, but under his fierce countenance I saw his jaw lock and his posture become rigid. He opened his mouth to speak, but a voice interrupted him.
"Ibrahim? Oh, there you are." I had to fight to keep my jaw from dropping as the owner of the voice approached:
Tatiana Ivashkov...
It was only the bloody Queen. The Queen! She wandered towards us with her natural aura of authority and majesty though there was something almost provocative about it. She was older than I thought she was, but her fitted outfit and general style warranted that of someone still in their twenties, rather than someone just approaching forty. I saw Ibrahim's expression change to a brilliant smile, but he could not so quickly turn off the intensity in his eyes. Tatiana, on the other hand, had no issue switching easily between expressions for upon seeing Ibrahim she wore a delightful and almost charming smile, but when she laid eyes on me it was a different story entirely.
"What are you doing out of position? And talking to an honoured guest! Remember your place – you are here to serve, not to participate!" she snapped, glaring at me directly though, after having spent a few moments under Ibrahim's direct glare, Tatiana's was not quite as intimidating as it should have been. "I am so sorry, Ibrahim..."
"No, it is I who should apologise. " Ibrahim said in his usual light and charismatic tone that startled me a little as it so heavily contrasted the fierce passion he had literally just exhibited, "I am the one who took this wonderful young guardian from her position. You see, I wanted to get a little air outside of the party and I asked Guardian Hathaway here to accompany me – best be safe."
Tatiana was quick to agree. "Of course."
"Well, Guardian Hathaway was most obliging – a real credit to your staff, I daresay." Whilst I had kept my face masked, I was very much surprised by Ibrahim's words. He was under no obligation to bail me out of this situation, least of all to the Queen.
Tatiana did not seem overly satisfied with me, but here facade was good enough as she smiled at Ibrahim once again, "Indeed, of course you are right. Do forgive my folly. Please rejoin the party soon; it is rather missing your company. And I believe you promised me a dance." She said with a wink which made me cringe a little.
Ibrahim laughed heartily. "I have been looking forward to it all evening, you majesty. I should like to remain out here a little while, if you do not object. The night's sky is a particular pleasure of mine."
Tatiana smiled again, "Of course," she said with a slight dip of her head. Tatiana raised her hand and Ibrahim placed a kiss to it before she left to return to the party.
I watched as she left, still in astonishment of her being here. Her long skirt disappeared from sight and I turned back to Ibrahim. "You didn't have to do that."
He frowned. "Do what?"
"Bail me out."
His frown turned to an expression of amusement. "I couldn't bear to see you lose that title you are so fond of, Guardian Hathaway." I scowled up at him and his smile grew to a chuckle before softening once more. "I apologise for my tone earlier: you would not believe the day I have had."
Oh, I think I can do you one better. "There is nothing to forgive. I am the one in the wrong."
"I find myself once again incapable of believing you, but for the sake of my safety, I shall let it slide." He said with a lightened tone. I could feel the smile twitch my lips, but I managed to keep a straight face. "I do hope, however, that you consider me a friend enough that you may confide in me."
"We've only seen each other three times." I pointed out.
He smiled. "Ah, yes, but on each of those occasions, I have sustained some sort of injury from yourself – if that is not a bonding exercise, then I do not know what is."
I rolled my eyes, but laughed all the same. "I suppose."
His expression softened again. "You have a wonderful laugh, Janine. It pained me to see you so distraught."
Before I could respond, we were interrupted once again by a rustling behind us, followed swiftly by a grunting sound. I frowned and awakened all my senses, reaching for my stake as I did. Ibrahim watched with wariness and too began to look around suspiciously. Suddenly, a piercing scream pounded through the night air, coming from the party.
We were under attack...
