Olivia spoke constantly as they walked, but the servant girl was distracted by her own fluttering heart.

The sun was already settling behind the lanes of houses, its brilliant rays slipping beneath the rooftops as the noisome traffic began to fade. She felt fingers clutch the front of her dress, her silver eyes lowering to realise it was her own hand clutching her chest.

Olivia scarcely noticed her companion's discomfort, chattering on, "I must confess, I've never displayed much of an interest in history, but I'll gladly say miss Scarlet's kindled a fascination in it for me! The fifteenth century certainly seems like a heady time to have been alive, and I very much liked her presentation of it, very organic, nothing dry about it. She was very obstinate about this whole... Wallachia place existing, didn't you find it funny how she-"

The girl's rambling did not abate. The servant girl tuned it out, remembering the words that had been meant for her alone.
'Escort Olivia De Vere back to her home, then return.
Tonight, we fly, you and I.'

She tried to shake off the words, her silver eyes watching Olivia's mouth, trying to hear the pretty girl's vapid words and reconnect with the uncaring, hollow girl she'd once been, the one that could walk and smile and function through the games that were played.
Tonight we fly, you and I.

"Say, do you believe in it?" Olivia remarked, turning to stare at the servant girl head on.
The silver-haired servant girl realised then, they were standing outside Olivia's house.

"What?" The question slipped from the servant girl's mouth.

Olivia frowned as she repeated herself. "I asked, do you believe in what miss Scarlet said about... well, all of it! Vampires, foreign gods, a land of fantasy and freedom, of an oppurtunity to change one's fate-"

"No." The servant girl heard herself say.

Olivia looked taken aback by the interruption.

The maid's silver eyes dulled as she pushed the words out. "Such stories are for children, miss. There are no vampires or fantasies. They're nothing but dreams. You will one day marry a husband. Help him with whatever enterprise or business he runs. Have children. Do what's expected of you.
That is our obligation." She told Olivia.

Disheartened, Olivia de Vere wished her a good night before hurrying inside.

The maid's shoulders straightened as she heard wooden wheels trundling along the cobbled road. She saw the brightly coloured puppet wagon approaching her, the malnourished horse and the dark-eyed, cheerless driver telling her who it belonged to. The wheel skidded and bounced over a stone, the whole wagon turning and sliding to a halt, the red-bordered facings on the theatre's box depicting three figures. On the left was the iconic mister Punch, big nosed, long-chinned and brandishing a mallet, on the right was his wife, square jawed, comically afraid, her arms raised, her body reared up as she cowered not from Punch but the figure that sat between them.
It was Morgen lounging there in the middle, cross-legged, her dress as dark as the ocean and her skin as white as a corpse.
She uncrossed her legs, moving through the painting to approach the maid.
"Hello, darling. Be a good girl and help me down?" She asked.

The servant girl obeyed, raising her hands. Morgen's flashy grin grew strained as her fingers seeped through the oil on the canvas, the rest of her following, rippling the oiled canvas.
She took the maid's hands and stepped down, her shoes clicking on the cobbles.
"Ah. Oil. How I hate it." She muttered.

"What're you doing so far removed from the Chateau?" The servant girl asked.

"My, very bold of you to put such questions to me - Oh! You're not up to speed on current events though, are you? Jill is descending on the wheel of fortune, and little old me, I will soon be your lady!
Isn't that wonderful?" Morgen asked with a rich smile.

The maid said nothing.

"It is particularly beneficial to you," Morgen went on, "because I see no interest in you indulging dear old Edwin any longer. You do plenty enough simply by being with us, serving us - I think his suggestions of you going above and beyond, that's...
My dear, you seem faint. Shall we walk, see if we can find better air?" Morgen asked, smiling apologetically.

The maid mutely nodded her head.

"Come along then." Morgen said, as though speaking to a dog. They walked together, the creak of the wheels dragging behind the maid.

"If I might say, I think it was very responsible of you, what you said to miss Olivia. Dreams are all well and good for children, artists and dreamers, but we adults? We're awake, aren't we?
Aren't we?" She repeated the question, her smile pinched and fulsome as she bumped the maid's shoulder.

Again, the maid nodded.

"Mmm. So know that all of Edwin's preferences for you to... learn, under him, that's all in the past. With me at his side, he'll do as I say." She told her with a suggestive smile.

The maid looked at her, keeping her distrust and distress beneath the surface as she managed a tight smile. "My lady, I'm afraid I don't understand-"

Morgen chortled. "Yes, you do. Things will be different, as opposed to dear old Jill's reign. You sustain this place wonderfully for my purposes, and everyone else's if they could just see that. They ought to value you for that, and by God, I will see it done. D'you know why?"

The maid shook her head.

"Because my dear, I care for you. Like me, your origins are a low, humble thing, from this very island, as well. We locals need to stick together, don't we?
What say you?" Morgen asked, her words dripping with honey.

The maid nodded along, swallowing when Morgen held her gaze, prompted to speak, "Yes, I would like that."

"Good. So call me mistress Morgen. Just to try it on." Morgen purred, her smile alight.
The maid hesitated. Morgen's smile faltered, as did the maid's resolve.

"Mistress Morgen?" The maid said obediently. Morgen grinned.
"That's the spirit. Naturally, you'll be sure to remind miss Scarlet that this charade will be over soon? We don't want her dreaming for much longer."

The maid looked uncertain, averting her gaze. "I'm not sure she'll be dissuaded. She seems rather used to getting what she wants."

Morgen's eyebrows rose. "She doesn't fear Barnes' influence, does she?"

"No." The maid asked.

Morgen nodded, pulling a face as though frustrated. Then she snapped her fingers, smothering her grin with an apologetic smile.
"I'm afraid you may have it. She is as entitled as she is brittle. We must prey on her insecurities- now, don't look so uncertain, you have to be cruel to be kind, my sweet! Convince her that she's not for you, vice versa, whatever works. And, do not forget that this is for her sake as much as yours! I imagine you might serve her well, but for the slowness. We at the Chateau are accustomed to it, but an outsider? No, they'd find it quite unacceptable.
and... I'd be appalled if Remilia discovered first-hand just how badly mister Barnes values you."

"Ahh," Remilia chirped, "There she is!"

The excited noise pulled Sakuya from her thoughts. Remilia grinned up at her, her pale form standing in the middle of the entrance hall, clad in the shimmering pink dress the maid had picked out.
Sakuya only realised then that Remilia was holding a goblet, and she was holding it out to her.

"Drink up!" Remilia insisted.

Sakuya blinked, looking down at the goblet. She saw the dark red fluid. "What is this?"

Remilia nodded. "You seemed excited - well, by your stoic standards - when I talked of teaching you to fly. This will leave you capable!"

Sakuya blinked, looking down at the cup. She tilted it, and the liquid was sluggish to move. "Is this blood?"

"Not just any blood," Remilia said eagerly, "It's mine- well, there's a drop in there. A parcel of my power, added to a fine vintage, Dracula 1462! It has a tannic angularity not meant for poorer tastes, I'll grant you, but the finish is sweet and positively pleasant!" She declared, clearly pleased with her recital of someone else's opinion of the wine.

Sakuya frowned, staring at the drink. She felt inclined to get a second opinion, but Meiling was behind her at the gate, Patchouli was nowhere to be seen, and Remilia stood before her, looking so very alone and excited and unabashedly expectant. There was no cloying pressure to perform, no veiled speech or threat stressing the need to smile and nod along.
At most, she was pressed to play along as though she were indulging an enthusiastic child, or a little sister.

Sakuya smiled wearily as she raised the goblet to her lips. Remilia's eyes widened along with her smile.
"Well?" The vampire asked.

Sakuya didn't taste the wine, didn't press it to the roof of her mouth or let it soak into her tongue. She downed it, leaving her mouth laden with the metallic tang and little else.
That earnt a confused laugh from Remilia. "Never seen a grown-up drink it like that." She admitted.

Sakuya blew out a breath as the wine rushed to her head. "I am not a grown-up, miss Remilia."

Remilia looked as though she might take issue with the way she was addressed, but she stopped, instead shrugging. "Okay. It should take some time, so why don't you put Flan to bed? She's expressed an interest in speaking with you."

"Wow. It's no wonder Patchouli's so mad at you."

There was a long pause before the violet hairbrush pressed to the side of Flandre's head, slowly dragging down through her hair, teasing a tangle of blonde hair apart.

"Yeah." Koakuma said evenly.

"I liked the story, though," Flandre murmured gently, the muzzled bristles of the hairbrush kneading on her scalp, her eyes half-lidded, "And I'd like you two to be friends again."

Koakuma smiled weakly. "Yeah." The small devil repeated the word, pausing as the comb caught fast in a knot of hair.

Flandre began to stir as she was forcefully tugged. "You okay?" She asked.

"Yes, yes, just struggling with a tough spot." Koakuma explained, realigning, driving the comb down-
The knot stuck fast between the teeth.

"Oh, for crying out loud." Koakuma sighed, tightening her grip-

"Don't force it." The maid rushed out.

"Ah, it's miss Sakuya." Flandre's voice lilted, lazily turning towards the silver-haired maid as Koakuma clutched her chest and let out a terrified exhale. The vampiric little sister inclined her head towards Sakuya, the purple comb swaying in her hair, her eyes heavy-lidded with fatigue. "How do you do?"

"Fine, thank you," The maid lied, regarding Koakuma with a plastic smile, "Koakuma, I was informed miss Flandre would like to speak to me. You may return to the library."

Koakuma warily nodded, making to leave as Sakuya circled the girl in the red pyjamas.

"You ought to take better care of this." The maid pointed out, her fingers giving one particular tangle of blonde hair a wiggle.

Flandre didn't answer her with words. Instead, the maid heard a tremor that left her blood stirring in her ears. Unfazed, the maid went on, "It'd be a shame to cut out all this lovely golden hair."

"Uhuh." Flandre murmured, her temper seeming to recede.

"Mmm. I'd like to put some conditioner in your hair. To soften, before we set to teasing it all apart. Will you please wait a moment?" The maid asked. Flandre nodded her assent.

The maid made her way through the labyrinthian halls of the mansion to fetch conditioner and a basin of hot water, returning quickly. Flandre still sat on the end of her bed, her shoulders hunched, more resigned than relaxed.

The servant girl's hands applied the conditioner, the bottle glugging, the formula coating Flandre's thatched mass of hair. The maid let the little sister know it would take some time for the conditioner to work its magic, taking a moment herself to look around the room.

She saw the drawings Flandre had made. Few of them were of bright and sunny subject matter; the black and red crayons had been worn down to nubs.

"You never told me what you stole." Flandre pointed out. The maid had sat down opposite her, an elbow on the table, her hand against her brow.

"Is that what you wanted to talk about?" The maid asked bluntly, a single, unobscured eye staring Flandre down.

Flandre paused, seeming to wake, her crystalline wings clinked as they began to spread. For a second, the maid expected to feel it again - the invisible, inexorable press. Instead, the little sister shook her head.
"I like my new dress. Did you buy it for me?" Flandre admitted, seemingly wanting to talk after all.

The servant girl stared on at her, the faintest smile pulling at her mouth. "I brought the idea to miss Remilia's attention, but she made the purchase."

Flandre nodded. "Mmm. Remilia almost lied. Said it was all her idea. Then she said you thought of it first."

The maid's smile widened just a little. It was nice to be credited. "I imagine she said it was her idea for the sake of brevity. I'm sure there was no deceit in mind."

Flandre gave her a look, prompting her to simplify the language used. "She didn't mean to lie to you, I'm sure; she was just giving a short explanation."

"Oh. Yeah, I think you're right." Flandre admitted, though she looked unconvinced.

The maid leaned harder into her hand, the fatigue of playing this part draining her. "Is everything alright, little miss?" She asked.

"Are there fairies down here?" Flandre asked, a fragility in the question.

The servant girl's eyebrows lifted. "Fairies?" She prompted, her own features stirring.

"Uhuh. They've... I've heard them earlier. They're telling me to do things." Flandre went on.

The maid stopped leaning on her hand and began to sit up, giving Flandre her full attention. "And what're the fairies saying?" The maid asked.

Flandre's red eyes flitted to meet hers before averting. "Bad things. Break things. Hurt things. They're... they're starting to get louder."

The maid's eyebrows lifted as the little sister continued, "I don't wanna be like this anymore. I don't wanna be ignored anymore. I wanna have friends. I wanna go outside. I just..."

Flandre felt warmth coil around one of her hands, starting, looking up at the maid's concerned expression.

"The most recent time you came to hurting something... was with me, wasn't it?" The maid asked.

"Uhuh?" Flandre's voice was an octave higher, fearing reproach.

"That's... a remarkable level of self-restraint, then. You've held on for a long time, haven't you?" The servant girl asked.

"Yeah." Flandre managed, staring down at the fingers that held her fist. When had her hands closed into fists?

The maid's words brought her focus back up. "It's... not long now, before your big sister leaves," the maid saw Flandre's expression darken at the mention of her sibling, but carried on, "and it's my understanding that once you're safe, she'll hear all you have to say. Can you hold on for a few nights more?"

Flandre let out a shakey sigh before she nodded.

The maid got off of the chair, leaned up and kissed Flandre's conditioner-coated head. She was careful to stand in the girl's field of vision as she stuck out a tongue and made a face.
She was gratified to hear the smaller girl giggle as she wiped the conditioner off her lips.

As the maid went to untangle her - using her comb to tease the knots apart and carefully splitting hairs with her knife when the tangles proved stubborn - she continued to speak. "There are no fairies down here in the basement. I didn't think you wanted to be disturbed, and so limited their work to the rest of the mansion."

Flandre didn't visibly register the news, simply staring straight ahead. "Okay." She murmured. "So what... do I ignore them?"

The servant girl felt entirely unequipped to deal with this. She knew the modern answer to such things - mark such individuals as suffering from hysteria or some other disease, lock them away in an institute, turn to lobotomy.

"Focus on what's real. That you're in a house surrounded by people who love you very, very much, and they're doing everything they can to keep you safe." The servant girl said.

"Do you love me?" Flandre asked.

That took the maid by surprise. She smiled as her fingernails held a knot of conditioner-darkened hair up for the comb.

"Whilst I haven't had the chance to get to know you, I'd say you're perfectly loveable. As much as your big sister." Sakuya admitted.

Flandre smiled delicately, her brow still furrowed. "So focus on what's real..."

The servant girl knew it wasn't enough. That any future efforts of hers to help Flandre would be lacking. She had her own demons to contend with, ones that had her squarely. Who was she to offer advice to anyone?
Still, she tried with some borrowed wisdom. "I have a father who is fond of proverbs," she explained, "And he heard this story from a friend who went to America, who had heard it told by one of the first men; the story of two wolves. You haven't heard of it, I take it?"

"Nuh." Came the reply.

The maid began to tell the story. "An old man is speaking to his grandson, trying to teach him about the struggles of life. He tells the boy 'a fight is happening within me. It is a fight between two wolves. One is a bad wolf. It is angry, it is wallowing, it is proud, it is mean. It is arrogant, resentful and entirely lacking in mercy'." The servant girl said.

"Yeah, 'the old enemy' are like that. Remi told me so." Flandre muttered, nodding definitively.

The maid decided not to object, and instead went on, "'But there is also a good wolf - It is a kind wolf. It is peaceful, and merciful. It deals in the truth, in empathy, compassion and love. And it is faithful.' The grandson made a puzzled expression, like you're making now-" The maid said.

"I am not!" Flandre declared hotly.

"My mistake. So," The maid continued, tugging a patch of meshed hair free, "The grandson, in his confusion, asked 'well, which wolf is going to win?'"

"The evil one?" Flandre cut in.

"No," The silver-haired servant girl replied, "The grandfather smiled then and told the boy 'the one you feed'."

"Ohhh. Because he'll become bigger." Flandre remarked.

"Yes." The maid agreed.

Flandre went quiet.

"I saw your drawings-" The maid said, seeing Flandre's wings folded nervously, "-and I should like to see you draw brighter things. Will you do that? Your favourite flower in the garden, say? Or a part of the mansion you like, like the clock tower?"

As she went around to Flandre's front, she saw the big grin Flandre was pointing up at her. "I could draw Meiling, if you'd like." She teased.

The maid smiled back evenly. "Certainly. If you'd like."

Flandre's smile widened. "If you'd like."

The servant girl raised an eyebrow, tugging a matted twist of hair, causing the little sister to yelp. "Oh, sorry about that." The maid said woodenly. The little sister chortled despite the discomfort, and the maid allowed a smile to slip the mask.

"Okay! I'll draw something special tomorrow. I know you'll like it." Flandre decided, not noticing the servant girl's work slow.

She didn't know what to do.

She had no business leaving. Her tutor had taught her that loyalty was a vital quality in a person, and she'd been told - frequently - that the Chateau tolerated her flaws. She was vital to their operations in London. There was a value in that.
And of course, lives were at stake. Though Edwin and Jill had frequently reminded her that they were all that kept her from the street, she wouldn't have made it to adolescence without the upbringing mister Osbourne had provided. If it meant he could enjoy another day, she would continue down this path.
And there was the other, selfish alternative, provided by the foreign princess that had disturbed it all.
That same foreign princess took her by the hand and pulled her to the back of the house, up the stairs, onto a moonlit balcony that overlooked the vast, walled gardens of the Scarlet Devil Mansion, gabbling as she went.

"So, did you get all that?" Remilia Scarlet asked, her cool fingertips landing on Sakuya's arm.

"...I'm sorry, mistress, I was far away." Sakuya admitted, prepared for the put down.

Remilia merely answered it with a forgiving smile, her red eyes glowing. "From the top... what's key most of all is your belief in your ability. Yes, you lack wings, but you're one of us now. You will fly."

Sakuya's heavy lidded stare left Remilia's face. "And if my belief is insufficient?"

Remilia grinned. "Then the ground will catch you."

Sakuya smiled back, earning a chortle from Remilia, her little wings waving gently in anticipation. "You see? You are one of us! Come, step up onto the railing." Remilia said, her wings flapping as her pink shoes left the flagstones.

Sakuya obeyed, too tired to be concerned, though that would change.

Remilia swept in, her arm taking Sakuya's back as she lifted her off of the stonework. Startled, Sakuya began to push off of the vampire before she realised she was above the garden now.
Way above the garden.
She flung her arms around Remilia, earning a girlish giggle from the vampire.
"Hold tight, but have no fear, for death cannot catch us!" She told the maid, her wing beats taking them higher and higher above the Scarlet Devil Mansion, ascending faster and faster. Sakuya's eyes were wide as she dared to peer over her shoulder, the sprawl of Whitechapel's dirty light smouldering beneath her, and the only thing between herself and that terminal fall was Remilia's little arms.
The maid turned, burying her face into the crook of Remilia's neck.

"It's okay, Sakuya, I won't let you fall!" Remilia cooed gently.
Her wings stopped moving, their last beat propelling Remilia forward headlong into the dive, the maid tight against her chest.

Sakuya was conscious of her heartbeat as she saw the ground rush towards them, feeling a weightlessness in her body as her mouth opened to cry out.
The cobbles suddenly rushed beneath her vision, she felt herself be pressed to Remilia as the vampire steeply corrected her dive, swooping over the hedgerows of the rich quarter with maid in arms, cackling away as her wings pumped beat after beat beneath them in time to clear the houses. Beneath them, a man with bottle in hand would stammer to passers-by about a shape, a winged, scarlet shape ascending with a young woman locked in its arms.
Above them, a dark smog blanketed the early night's blue sky, the roads below aglow with lamplight, of taverns and public houses lighting up. Sakuya could hear the laughter and bawdy singing already. She could see Big Ben - the great and ornate clock tower, with its steeple-studded spire and its illuminated, gold-yellow clock facings beneath the great arrows - looming large over Westminster.
Then she was taken above the smog, above the clouds, until it was just them and the moon.

She heard Remilia's hearty laugh. "I have missed this! Flying high, flying fast... We have to teach you. Dismount! As though there is ground beneath you."

Sakuya began to look down.
"Hey!" Remilia snapped, the sharpness raising the hairs on the maid's neck. She turned, expecting a rictus of hatred, a scowl, something-
The vampire's relieved, befanged smile gazed back at her. "Look at me. Only me.
Act like there is ground beneath you. It helps."

Sakuya swallowed, for a second surprised at herself.
She was afraid to die, after all. Her silver eyes stared into Remilia's as the vampire slowly lowered her legs, allowing her to put her feet down-
She heard no click of her heels on stone, but she felt firm resistance.
On sheer reflex, she looked down-
"Sakuya!" Remilia shouted, beginning to shrink into the sky as the servant girl fell.

Blind terror took over. She had thought herself inured to the fear of death, given her dark work, but now it loomed large and pounded through her thoughts as she tumbled through the smog, the city of London yawning beneath her. This was it. This was really it-
"I told you not to look down!"
The maid's glanced towards the sound as something gripped her wrist. Remilia was there, dark smog trailing from her scarlet clothes, her fingers vicing on Sakuya's arm.

"Push off! It's a step on a staircase!" Remilia shouted.
For a second, the words didn't reach the maid, her mind scattering.

"Do as I command, Sakuya!" Remilia shouted again.
Sakuya could see the individual houses now. The hard slated rooves, spiked railings, the solid stone road directly beneath her-
"SAKUYA!" Remilia screamed. Sakuya looked to see Remilia's glare.
She did as the monster demanded, and kicked.
It propelled her forward.
But she was still falling.
The servant girl started to scream. She flung her arms up.
She heard a voice. Still a girl's voice, layered, deepened, made darker.

"PULL UP!" It bellowed. Sakuya felt a lancing, split-second pain behind her eyes as a savage strength grasped her around her middle. She felt erratic, powerful strokes of the vampire's wings yank her upwards. As her arms lashed for Remilia, one foot scrabbled for purchase, stamping down on nothing more substantial than wild, desperate hope.
She launched them upwards.
She - Sakuya - launched them upwards.
A steepled roof knocked the toe of her foot, dislodging her shoe and sending it spinning away into the street beneath them.
As the maid gripped the undead princess for dear life, Remilia laughed breathlessly as they soared together between chimneys.

The laughter bit. Something snapped.

"Stop it." The servant girl murmured.

"Ahhh...what?" Remilia asked.

"Put me down." The maid said.

"...It was close, but you're alive, Sakuya! You did well, d-did you see what you did at the end there? You actually-"

"Put me down!" The servant girl shouted.

For a while, Remilia did not respond, and for a moment the servant girl wondered if she'd be refused.
"'Kay." Remilia murmured.

Her flying steadied, and she carefully deposited the maid on a rooftop.

"I was rather hoping you'd let me down at street level." The maid said coldly.

Remilia touched down on the spine of the roof. "I knew what you meant," Remilia said hotly, "But you were going to storm away, and I'm a little cross that you didn't do as I said, though I do understand why you looked down, why you panicked, and if I let you have your way now the evening would be ruined!"

"Of course, the evening's what matters. You ever considered-" The maid paused and scowled at her, suspecting. "How did you know I was going to storm away?"

Remilia swallowed as she shook her head. "I- call it a vampire's intuition."

"...Remilia, how did you know?" The maid repeated.

Remilia shrugged off the question, though the silvery eyes stared her down. "...When a vampire and servant share blood, there's perhaps more to it than merely the ability of flight, I'm able to maybe, on occasion, know what they're thinking, what they're doing-"

The maid's scowl deepened. Remilia's mouth opened, already on the defensive.
"Now listen, it's not like I share it with just anyone!"

"Do you think that's why I'm angry at you, mistress? That you might share my thoughts with your friends?" The maid asked, her tone frigid, "Or do you suppose I might be angry that you failed to mention that detail, that I would be linked to you? Slaved to you?"

Remilia puffed up her chest self-consciously, "It's not slavery- look, if I had to mention every detail to my servants, I'd be here and there all day - it wasn't and isn't pertinent-"

"My agency isn't pertinent?!" The servant girl snarled. The way the maid bared her teeth... it all stole what little breath Remilia had as the maid advanced. "If you'd told me what that drink - your blood - would do to me, I'd have never, ever have drunk it! How dare you assume you have the right to collar me? How dare you?"

Remilia backed, hearing Sakuya's accusations twice. One was unmistakeably pointed at her, the servant girl's voice vicious and grating. The other was charged, subliminal, communicated across the fragile, fledgling mindlink... Remilia focused on the clearer, spoken words meant for her, her eyebrows arching.

"Is it because it's my blood? Is that the problem?" Remilia asked.

The maid, flustered, shook her head, feeling a hot flash behind the eyes. "You're missing the point."

"I'm not," Remilia insisted, "Why can't I assume a right over you? Barnes has done just that, and he's far more beastly than I am! What does he do that I can't?!
Am I not worthy?"

"Oh, don't worry, you're both very much alike!" The maid snapped. "You assume you're right! That you're entitled! That everything around you is there to serve you! Did you ever, ever stop to think how I'd feel when I realised that drink enslaved me?! How I might feel about you invading my head?! When you gave me your name days ago, when I asked you not to?!" Sakuya grew louder by the question, her mind-voice flaring, hateful and indiscriminate.

"Stop yelling at me," Remilia demanded as she recoiled, her dark wings folding as Sakuya's words drowned out her thoughts, "You're not making sense..."

"Answer me! Did you ever think about what I wanted, how I felt?!" The maid shouted at her.

"I didn't," Remilia huffed, "But I knew you weren't happy, and I thought- that you might enjoy rendering your services to me instead of Barnes."

"You never asked! Of course you wouldn't- and why should you?! Aren't you a vampire, better than a lowly human?! What use do you have for me, other than as a corpse to be drained?!" The servant girl asked angrily, her pale skin flushed now.

"Oh, now who's making assumptions?! Humans have served me before, and faithfully, too!" Remilia retorted.

The maid didn't care and didn't stop. "Then why me?! Why upset what tawdry life I have with your talk of fantasies?! That's not my lot! It was never my lot! Why are you doing this?! Do you enjoy tormenting me, giving me false hope?! Why are you doing this?!" Sakuya shouted on, relentless, growing louder.

"Because I like you!" Remilia shouted back.

Sakuya froze. Her silver eyes widened. "Why?" She asked, unable to believe it.

Remilia sniffed. "Because you were nice to me. You laughed at my jokes. You protected me. From Olivia. From that marsh beast. From the lions.
And you're everything I'm not."

That last claim left Sakuya shaking her head, uncertain. "What-" What am I?

Remilia sniffled noisily. "I'm-uh," She snorted, "Not graceful. Or refined. Or elegant. Or witty. Or... or any of the other words mister Osbourne uses.
You are, Sakuya."

The maid shook her head at the admission, and in that head, Remilia could hear one word throb through the raging sea of Sakuya's mind.
Preposterous.
"Christ!," The servant girl roared, "I'm supposed to be your enemy, you realise?! Do you think me a saint?! I am helping my master make humans suffer in perpetuity! I was tasked to entrap you! Believe me when I say you do not want me in your household!"

"And I'm sure you do all that willingly," Remilia scoffed sarcastically, a breathless, shakey sigh escaping her, "And that voice in your head... I don't like it.
You don't like it either." She noted.

The maid shook her head more vigorously, flattered, pained, frustrated and reminded by everything said. "There are oceans of men and women in my profession that would laugh at your jokes, look after you, all of that! They would jump at the oppurtunity you offer! You can learn from them! Go to them! Mister Osbourne will refer you-"

"I don't care," Remilia huffed, "I've chosen you! I want you to come with us!"

The maid's silver eyes appealed to Remilia to let this go. "I cannot go with you, Remilia, I'm-"

"I can read your thoughts, Sakuya, I don't care about Barnes, or his dogs, I don't care about any of that!" Remilia insisted, her own voice rising into a shout, "I want it to be you! My sister likes you! Patchy likes you! Meiling likes you! I like you, Sakuya! I want it to be you!"

The maid stared at Remilia, beleaguered. Part of her wanted to go, she realised. Of course it did. She wanted to go and live in this red castle that travelled through time and space, surrounded by-
Morgen's words clashed on that fantasy like a steel trap; 'I'd be appalled if Remilia discovered first-hand just how badly mister Barnes values you.'
If the maid followed the vampire, Remilia Scarlet would not leave London alive, her or her friends. The maid had seen what Barnes' empire had done to those that had come to London and lingered long enough to earn the Ripper's ire. Entire bands of knightly heroes, vagrant gods and monsters of legend had all met their end before the Ripper and his league of murderous myths.
If Remilia stayed, she would die.
To make her leave, to save her, she would have to hurt her. Quickly, before the vampire understood what she was doing, why she was doing it.

"Then tell me why," The maid swallowed thickly, "Would I want to serve the likes of you?"

In her service to the Ripper and his henchmen, the maid had seen men shot. She'd seen how they jumped and stopped and came undone as they sustained that jarring, definitive impact.
She saw that now.
The vampire recoiled as the words struck her, her red eyes wide and trusting, a confused smile on her face as she registered the wound. "You... don't mean that, do you." Remilia tried to muster the strength to phrase it as a question, but it came out as a muted plea.

The maid knew it would not be enough to merely insult her, she'd tell it was for a purpose.
It would have to be genuinely felt, and mean, and agonisingly personal.
'She is as entitled as she is brittle.'
'We must prey on her insecurities.'
'You have to be cruel to be kind.'
The maid forced her expression to cool, her stomach turning as she turned her evaluation of Remilia Scarlet into a weapon.

"You are narcissistic. You are arrogant. You are painfully, pitifully dependent, and you are so insecure, so needful of admiration, it's sad," The maid said, her heart aching as Remilia flinched beneath the weight of the denouncement.
"You are everything Barnes is, and everything I'm not."

Remilia's smile crumpled. She blinked hard, sending tears plunging down her cheeks as her bottom lip wobbled and her arms shook, her hands clenched into fists. "Sakuya, you- I thought I could trust you..."

"More fool you," The maid's voice was harsh, her eyes glassy, "And don't be so childish as to assume you can assign names to whomever you please."

The corners of Remilia's mouth were drawn down. She dared to approach, a shaking hand opening, reaching out, searching for the friend she'd laid herself bare to, the one that she'd laughed with, fought with, the one who had seen her flaws and accepted her all the same. "Sakuya, I- Please, I'm sorry-"

The maid stepped back, out of reach. "Then leave. Leave London. I don't want to see you again." She lied, her face like stone.

Hurriedly, Remilia stowed away all the emotion she could. Her bottom lip still trembled, her tears ran on, but her expression was achingly, guardedly neutral, her voice coming out under the barest audible strain.
"It is apparent I have disturbed you. Goodbye, human.
I shall miss you."

In a flash of bared teeth, the vampire jetted off in a storm of roof tiles, the launch sending slate tumbling down into the house beneath and crashing across the streets below. The maid clutched her chest as she stood alone on the rooftop, her face ashen, her head and heart throbbing as she began to cry.

The gargoyles observing the exchange slowly withdrew from their perches, their limbs and stone flesh cracking and chipping with every movement, their ugly, grimacing features twisting into the approximation of leering smiles.
Their master would enjoy this news.

Meiling's worried gaze followed her mistress as she landed in front of the mansion's gates, striking the ground hard enough to crack the cobbles. Meiling reached out for Remilia's shoulder.

"Don't touch me," Remilia mumbled, "Please, don't."

The gatekeeper aborted the gesture, her mistress' shining eyes shadowed by her hat. "I'm sorry." Meiling whispered quietly as she moved to open the gates.

Remilia quietly walked up the stone path and disappeared inside the doors. She commanded that she was to be left alone, and the fairies delivered her order to Patchouli and Flan that they were to stay in their rooms.
The residents of the Mansion fell into melancholic silence as the Scarlet Devil's howls of rage and pain lasted long into the night.