Daemon woke to the smell of blood sizzling in the air. Not his own but… the heat of it… he could taste it on his lips.
… Words Lie blood didn't. Blood that was freely given had its own spice… This The heat and power mixed with spice all its own. He knew that heat and could remember that spice. Neither of which he should be smelling. Carefully he probed the room. This wasn't Jaenelle's moon's blood nor had he and his brother done anything to cause the prick to bleed… yet…
… His eyes glazed red.
It didn't help that he was in a pitch black room and that didn't nothing for his temper. The ice flowing freely through his veins. Leashing his temper enough to form a small orb of witch light he saw his surrounding… it did nothing to improve his temper. If anything it had made it worse.
He was in a damp cold room. Solid stone walls surrounded him. There was no door, nor windows. Just slick moss growing on one of the walls and cold earth beneath him. Still analyzing the room he saw how he was bound. He was at least sitting more or less. His knees were brought up to his chest and his feet spread apart exposing the triangle between his legs. His arms were brought around his knees locking them in place. Irons were fastened to both his wrist and ankles.
Still he couldn't see what was producing the smell of blood. The taste… the heat… his eyes scanned the room for a possible reason. Yet he couldn't find the source… he couldn't ….
His eyes flowed to his own clothes. His once white silk shirt was sticky and crimson his trousers stuck to his legs. The orb of light floated over closer to his body. His hands were covered in a dark sticky liquid that as just starting to dry. Realization slammed into him like a running bull. He was covered in blood…
His Queens' blood…
His brother's…
The High Lord's…
Blood he didn't know the names of the bodies that it once flowed through.
What had happen? Why couldn't he remember? If it had been the Rut he would have some small fragment of a memory. Even lost in the Killing field he should remember why he had taken to it. Something… But nothing was there, just a stuffy cobwebby feeling. He knew that feeling yet he didn't dare burn it out. Not yet. Not until he found out who and why. He couldn't have spilled Jaenelle's blood. He couldn't have.
An older witch passed through the stone wall just in front of him. He hadn't cared that he was bound after all he was a black jeweled black widow and he could escape if he choose too… but maybe… just maybe she knew what happened. And if she didn't, he would slip passed that wall and find someone who did. She was regale and elegant despise her tattered dress. She was pissed. Her sapphire jewel hung above her ample chest.
Daemon started to speak stuttering, "I- I…" He what? Words Lie blood didn't and he was covered in it. He barely heard what was said after that except for a few fragmented phrases. "The penalty for Killing a queen is death." He understood that. It was the same in both realms or at least he thought it was. One couldn't be sure since the Witch storm Five years ago.
He stared in disbelief as she continued, "We'll have to see what the punishment is for killing Witch." She made a tsking sound, "I'm surprised that the baby survived such a massacre."
Something in him snapped. He had believed once before that he had raped then Killed Jaenelle as a child. He wouldn't this time. Or at least not so easily. "I what proof that they are gone."
The leather vest that Lucivar had been wearing over his court shirt appeared or rather a scrap of what was left of it and that was blood soaked but held no emotions. It was plopped down at his feet. A jacked – the black jacket that his father favored- torn in shreds and wet landed onto the piece of Lucivar's vest. He held his emotions together till a broken necklace landed between his shackled hands. He had just bought that a few days ago. It had specially made for Jaenelle. It had – when it was new and whole – a cut gem for every color of the twilight's dawn. A black gem hung from the center in the shape of tear drop. Pearls had made up the rest. Only the cut gems and the teardrop remained. "Noooo!" Anguish poured out in his scream.
"There's your proof Prince. Or what was left that could be identified." She shook her head in discuss, "The Keep's sanchel took your Jewelry. In case you get any Ideas. Something or another about dishonoring a gift."
Tears stung his eyes. How could he? What had happen Last night? Was it last night or longer? Why? Why?
He could feel the pieces of his chalice chipping off, and didn't care. HE would give them anything they demanded for payment … for punishment… any amount of blood, tears, or screams. In the end he would die from their hands or his own.
He watched her leave then let the piece of necklace run between his fingers. He would pay the debt because he owed it to her. In the end his chalice would shatter and his body would die and he would with his last breath make sure nothing of himself remained.
The last thought before he hung his head to grieve was Marian was going to kill him for killing her family. Surreal would slaughter him and he barely thought about what the kindred would do. No he would die but by whose hands or claws he couldn't guess. The tears ran hot as the globe of witch light burned out.