Title – Untitled
Author - MidKnight
E-Mail address – MidKnightslair@juno.com
Author's Website – Well, you're here, so you must be on the right track.
Rating – Gosh. Who knows.
Category - Adventure/Rescue
Pairing (if needed) – Yeah, you'll figure it out later.
Warnings – There are vampires loose on the castle grounds.
Spoilers – None, I think.
Summary – Durring a vampire attack things get interesting.
Notes -For the person who emailed me, you know who you are. Written while listening to Bedroom Dancing by Day One. Technically, there's a sequel to this, called Eggs and Toast, but it's being a pain in the ass. It doesn't want to be written. I'll see if I can fix it.
“If you're going to kill me,” The figure on the ground said. “You should probably do it now.”
Her hands trembled on the staff of wood.
Two minutes ago things had been very different.
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She'd been asked to go for a walk in the park by High Prince Something-or-other, just another one of those men that thought too much of themselves and too little of her. He'd given her flowers, black ones, unusual but they matched her dress that day so she'd smiled. Fake smile, but he'd seemed to be fooled by it, offering her his arm.
Dusk in the windows and Duzzel was no where to be found, but then again the cat was always one to sleep in a sun patch until the light had gone away.
Small talk until they got outside, wonderful weather we're having, was so-and-so getting better from that fall from a horse, how positively radiant the Princess was today. She'd played along, said the correct answers and really her mind was a million miles away; raised since birth to a life like this had given her the skills.
She didn't notice how pale he was, how sharp his teeth were, how his eyes rested on her throat a little longer than the average male lingered there. Usually their eyes swept lower.
A million miles away and by the time they'd made it outside the castle it was dark, but not too dark. A cool wind blew through the trees announcing there'd be a storm soon and she shivered in anticipation. A few drops hit the the marble nearby, catching her attention and when she looked back the Prince was right there, in front of her.
“Princess,” He murmured, dark eyes down, though she wasn't sure if he was staring at her breasts or her throat. “I've wanted to...” He trailed off, shaking his head. Light curls spilled from the clasp she could barely see, nestling into the crook of his neck.
Something odd in the shape of it, what it looked like and she felt her brow furl.
Glimpse of a memory of her and Duzzel, in her boy form, getting drunk in her rooms. Laughing at something and he'd absently been sketching-
“Princess,” The Prince said again. “I've grown to love you.”
Stupid thing to interrupt her memories with. She'd heard this a thousand times before and she looked up to see the rain coming down a little harder. Nothing like pouring, or even really raining, just more than a few drops falling now and it wasn't even wetting their clothes.
Looking down she caught him staring again. Men.
Duzzel had been sketching something into the soot on the hearth, as they'd laid there giggling, something about a story about puppets-
“Princess,” The man said again, “I don't think you're listening to me.” he smiled coyly and she ignored him.
“You're right.” She acquiesced, and watched as his eyes widened in shock and his mouth turned into an angry line. “You shall have to say something surprising and different if you want to get my attention.” With that she turned and walked away, a few steps, to the edge of the balcony and looked down into the gardens, then out across the fields. The rain was really starting to come down.
Her clothes might have been soaked by this time.
A rough hand grasped her shoulder, spinning her around. His face was full of fury, and for a second he seemed an animal.
“You will never turn your back on me again, Princess!” He hissed, and she thought he might hit her. Vaguely she wondered if he knew about the anklet she wore, that it would send him flying twenty feet if he so much as raised a hand to her. It'd be funny at least. One of his hands latched around her throat and there was a half second of him squeezing before she felt the anklet shiver, and then his eyes got even wider as it's magic attacked him.
He didn't fly twenty feet in the air. He kinda grinned, though.
“Interesting spell.” He said, leaning closer.
Another second and she realized the spell wasn't hurting him enough to make him let go. He kept flinching, twitching, so she knew it had to be hurting him, but still those fingers were locked around her throat, not choking her, but holding her to look at him.
Duzzel, with that half-drunk, half-not-drunk smile, and he was putting up with her absolute drunkenness, and they were laying on the carpet in her room and he was telling her about puppets, and blood, and sketching something in the soot on the hearth.
“Tell me, Princess, would you like to live with me?” He squeezed her throat a little harder and she just stood there and took it, not willing to give an inch. “Be my wife, we'd go off to my castle in the woods, and I'd give you ancient dresses to wear. You could tend the roses in the garden, try to bring them back to life.”
She spit in his face. “I'm no one's wife.”
For a second he froze, startled, by her fury.
Ishtar found herself on the ground ten feet away, choking for air. Her entire side hurt, and there was a breaking sound somewhere, and something wooden, probably part of the railing, clattered down to the stones next to her. There was blood in one of her eyes.
The Prince was glaring at her when she looked up. She guessed he'd thrown her, though all she'd felt was a blur of motion.
“You will be my slave, then.” He growled, and this time she saw the teeth.
Vampire teeth, and Duzzel had pulled her up from the carpet to show her the double snake design, two snakes intertwined, feeding off each other's flesh. Like some bazaar sexual union, only deadlier, drawn in the soot on the hearth.
That was the shape of the Prince's hair clasp.
Scuttling backward until she hit the wall, Ishtar reached for the broken railing, trying to find something to defend herself with.
She remembered Duzzel's drunkenly slurred words, “You see someone wearing this, you know they're one of my line. Beware them, Ishtar, not all vampires make good housepets.”
“Going to kill me, Princess?” The Prince asked, coming at her.
There was a blur in the corner of her eye, something small launching itself at the Prince and he knocked it away with hardly a care, cursing as the cat sank it's teeth into his arm. Duzzel fell to the wayside, hissing his fury. The Prince laughed.
“Thats the best the castle has to offer, a mangy wild cat?” He laughed, closing the space between himself and the Princess, hauling Ishtar to her feet. She swung the wood at him, shattering it rather than doing him any damage. “Ready to be by my side, forever?”
Lightning flared, with the storm and also apart from it, and the Prince wound a hand in her hair, wrenching her head to the side. She felt his lips and whimpered in fear, but the bite never came.
The Prince howled in pain and Ishtar looked up to see a slim white hand knotted in his hair, pulling him back from her. Strange red eyes peered at her over his shoulder, surrounded by white-blonde hair, which was quickly becoming soaked in the downpour. The Prince let her go, turning to see who his new attacker was and she saw the horror and surprise on his face.
The new man stood there, cloaked in black, sword at his side, long blonde hair falling below his waist. There was something familiar about him, but also, not. He glared at the Prince, before his eyes shifted to her, lingering on her neck.
“Did he bite you?” The man demanded, hand going to his sword. She felt her hand go to her throat and found no wound. She shook her head and the stranger nodded. He drew the sword. “The years have done you well, Azulan,” and she saw the Prince start. It hadn't been the name he'd given at the castle, though she still couldn't remember what that was. “You've survived, as I believed many of you would not.” The new man looked back to Ishtar. “You will not live another night, though.”
“My lord,” The prince hissed, falling back a step. He seemed the image of fear. “My lord, I didn't know...”
Another flash of lighting covered his movement and Ishtar blinked, trying to figure out what had happened. The Prince seemed to be caught in the new man's arms. His face was pressed to the man's throat, drinking his blood.
Another vampire, she assumed, horrified. The castle was overrun with them, it would seem. They sank to the ground, the Prince's knees going out from beneath himself, and with a few more violent contortions the Prince's body froze.
Her defender crawled away from it, laying on the soaked stones, letting the rain pour onto himself. Ishtar crawled forward a few inches, grasping what was left of the wooden railing and watching as the second vampire's chest heaved. He lay on his stomach, blonde hair spread around his body, black clothes adhering to his body with rain.
One of his red eyes slitted open to tiredly watch her.
“Hail, Princess.” He murmured, smiling a little. Like there was something kinda funny about all of this.
“You should leave before the castle guards come.” She said, reflexively, scared. Where the hell were they anyway?
“I can handle them.” He answered, pushing up on his arms and rolling onto his back. Opening his mouth to the rain she saw the blood wash away, saw the fangs.
Vampire, then. He looked back to her, eyes going to her throat.
He seemed hungry. She brandished the wood at him and he smirked a little, sitting up on one elbow.
“If you're going to kill me you should probably do it now.” The smile he gave her was a little challenging. “I'm feeling a little,” The smile grew. “Hungry.”
Ishtar backpedaled on the wet stones as he rolled to his knees and came towards her, crawling, cat-like.
She hit a wall long before she would have liked. He kept up his predatory crawl, pressing her into the wall with his body until their faces were only inches apart. Thankfully the rain disguised her tears.
She didn't want to die. Not here. Not now. Not with the quest unfinished.
One of his pale hands came up to cup the side of her face, comforting her. At least, if this one killed her, it wouldn't be quite so bad.
“Its going to be ok, Ishtar.” He murmured, head dipping into her throat. His tongue ran a strip from her collar bone to her ear, somehow calming and centering and when he bit into her throat there was hardly room for pain. Warmth, and feeling his body close to hers, an arm around her to keep her safe.
She slipped in to darkness.
Woke in her bed, from the smell of it. Roses and cat hair and someone was wrapping something around her throat, gently brushing hair out of her face. Opened her eyes to kind red ones; the vampire was wearing one of her dressing gowns, his sword belt buckled to it. His hair was almost dry.
“I'm still alive?” She asked.
“Think I'd kill you after all this time?” He asked, smiling again. The comment really made no sense. He shrugged at her puzzled look. “Scoot over, you're taking up most of the bed.”
For some reason she did. Her bones felt lite and hollow, but the room wasn't spinning like it had been that time she and Duzzel had gotten drunk. The vampire slipped the sword loose, resting it at the head of the bed before crawling in with her. He stretched, looking inordinately pleased with himself for being in bed with her.
A snap of his fingers and the fire dimmed.
“Who are you?” She hissed, about to give into sleep. Despite everything that had happened she wasn't afraid, perhaps she'd worn herself out it.
The vampire grinned, snuggling closer.
“Would it help if I purred a little?”
