Audacity (Part Three)

The light of an almost new moon shimmered through the hallway windows, spilling like milk across the floor. It poured through the crevices between the tiles and soaked into the nearby rugs.

I was familiar, by now, with the daily rituals of the castle. Maids hustled about, cleaning the rooms and preparing the siblings’ meals. Rosaline and I would spend time together around the halls and rooms of the castle and part ways.

Ambrosius was rarely seen, though I had managed to catch a glimpse of him once or twice. When he walked through the hallway, everyone had stood still, almost as if time itself had stopped them in their tracks.

Aubin spent most of his time reading in the library. There were many days that Rosaline would stop by to choose a new book. Though she never read in the library with her brother, there were times when the two of them would talk.

My boots clicked on the floor, barely dampened by the moon soaked rugs. Aubin and Rosaline would have sat down to eat dinner within moments of me stepping through the dining hall’s doors.

Just before dinner was the time that Rosaline chose to bathe, so I was left to fend for myself until she had arrived in the dining hall. The break was worth it to explore the castle more in length.

Their silence was uncomfortable at the table, so I often made small talk with the maids serving us.

I was intent on finding out just how much I could consume before either of the siblings felt the same discomfort I had felt with their silence.

I had drank far into the expensive drinks of the cellar and the two of them still remained oblivious to my antics. With enough of the spirits in me, my requests gradually came louder.

Only after I had accidentally dropped a glass did the two siblings finally break their vow of silence.

“You’re drunk!”

“As a skunk!” I yelled through a hearty laugh.

“Let’s take you to your room,” Rosaline’s voice felt as if she was trying to comfort a child. Perhaps I was feeling a bit childish but it was better than the silence day in and day out.

I was not completely within my own mind as I stumbled through the halls of Castle Ambrosius with Rosaline supporting my shoulder. On the arrival of our opposing doors, I felt my knee start to give out, as if I had stepped on uneven ground.

The hall began to spin and I felt freer than I ever had before. If I could take off, I’d surely make it to the heavens. My wings beat across my back, sending cool air across my warm body. 

Rosaline made an attempt to open my door after I had fallen to my knees to keep the hall from moving around me.

"Are you okay?" She asked worriedly, helping me to my feet.

"Yes, right as r-rain" I replied as not to worry her any further. There needn’t be any more childish comforting.

"Why did you drink so much?" She asked. "It’s not like it’s going anywhere."

When I was securely on my feet, I brushed myself off and straightened my back. There was no use, though. I fell over again, into her door, which opened with a loud bang.

“Mattathias!”

She looked around the hallway for help before trying to pick me up again. Rosaline didn’t harbor much strength, despite her race’s supposed prowess in it. It was too much for her to even lift me up herself. “Maybe we should just go to mine.”

I felt the comfort of her bed beneath me. I fell backwards, letting it all consume me. The smell of roses, the silks that were cool to the touch, a rich view of the starry, moonlit sky. Rosaline drew the curtains, closing off the room to the world, leaving only us behind.

I used my arm to shield my eyes from the burning light of the chandelier above. Rosaline brushed my hair from my face softly just before she sat down next to me.

Her touch was so soft but brief. I wanted more. I grabbed her right hand and held it within my own hand, bringing it back to that side of my face. 

"Have you ever tasted the blood of an Incubus?" I asked her, only halfway aware of why I would ask such an absurd question.

No, that wasn’t true.

I knew entirely why I asked her.

"As I have told you before, I no longer partake of blood.”

“And you’d die for it. I remember all too well, princess.” 

My other hand gently brushed through her silver curls and before she had time to react, I pushed her head into my neck.

I could feel her cool breath just at the nape of my neck. "Why do you, a fellow immortal creature, tempt me like this? Why do you, who called me naive, tempt me on a whim with that you find important enough to hate?" She asked, still hovering over my neck.

“Why must you die for your cause?" I asked her in return, leaning in to nibble lightly upon her own tender neck. Her skin smelled of the same roses that her bedding did. 

"You’ve been drinking, Mattathias. You don’t really want this." She whispered into my ear before sitting back up and tucking a fallen curl behind her pointed ear. 

"Just try to resist." I forced her back down to my neck, close enough that her teeth were only a hair away from skin. It wasn’t the alcohol that confused me into this. I wanted this, the liquor had only given me the bravery to force it on her.

Rosaline let out a gasp before she fell onto me, her teeth at my neck once again. “Please…” a soft voice whispered, pleading one last time to regret my decision. I gave her no room to struggle.

Tiny fangs pierced through my skin with less pain than expected. I could feel them dig into the flesh but instead of hurt, it only brought pleasure.

It wasn’t unlike how I could drink the blood of a victim; in order to keep them from running as soon as they felt the pain, something in our saliva turned that feeling into pleasure.

Her touch was gentle and almost sweet as she gracefully drank from my neck. Frantic movements mixed with tender moments as she struggled beneath my grasp. Using my free arm, I pulled her in from the waist, giving her no room to find freedom.

My body and mind became ecstatic and joyful, like we had started to dissolve into one. It was at the peak of this ecstasy that I saw what I had wanted with this little act.

Rosaline’s most precious and atrocious moments; I could feel them running through my head, catching glimpses of the tortures and pleasures she had experienced throughout her life. The death of loved ones. The cruelty at the hands of her father, the injuries she had sustained in the name of freedom.

Rosaline began to pull away. I pushed her back down, desperate to keep drinking in her deepest and darkest thoughts.

"I cannot take any more from you." Rosaline whispered, her lips and warm breath caressing my neck from where she had been imprisoned.
"Then just lay here with me." I replied back in a whisper. I was even more dizzy at that moment than I had been before entering the room. I closed my eyes, hoping that the room would cease it's spinning.

I hadn’t seen it all, but I had seen enough. There were no intentions of letting her go.

“You’re going to regret this when you wake up.” 

"Probably" I responded, running my free hand down her back, brushing out the ends of her curls before the room turned dark.

☆☆☆

It was late afternoon I had woken to and Rosaline slept away next to me. Her pale fingers were curled against the silk and her red lips were parted, only just revealing the tips of her pearly white canines.

Silky silvery locks were thrown about on a golden pillow, spilling out around her porcelain face. White lashes closed lightly and her breaths came even lighter.

My blood was coursing through her veins, now. I took great pleasure in knowing that. Knowing that for now, she belonged to me.

The blood of another immortal… I wondered if it would affect her negatively. Would it cause her discomfort?

"Such a fool," I whispered quietly and sat up on the bed as silently as possible. My clothes and hair still reeked of alcohol. After running my fingers across my neck, I could feel that the wounds had already healed over.

My hunger wouldn’t be sated as easily as hers, though.

After eating our first meal of the night, I followed Rosaline through the castle, as I usually did. Not once did she ever attempt to set foot outside. However, it wasn’t uncommon to find her pause to peer through the castle windows.

Some days we would stop by the library, where she would study through another new book. Other times we would have tea, where she lightly gripped an embroidery frame in one hand and a needle in thread with the other.

It was a routine, as far as I could tell, where each day would be given to refining a skill or knowledge.

That particular day, however, we entered a conservatory within the castle. Moonlight seeped through the ornate glass and bathed a pond of water lilies in its glow.

Surrounding that was a stone bench, where Rosaline took a seat, carefully tucking her dress out of the way as she did. I chose to stand and look over her from above.

Many of these plants had already wilted away. A good few of them were clearly hanging on at the end of their lives. It was garish of a castle, kept to this kind of perfection, to have such a disheveled room.

A book appeared in the Vampire’s hands, where she read it using only the moonlight streaming in through the windows.

“Do the maids not clean this place? Surely someone is in charge of taking care of the plants here.” I picked at the stalk of a long dead plant, not surprised to feel it almost crumble beneath my fingertips.

Rosaline didn’t wean her attention from the book in front of her, merely flipping to the next page as she replied, “I think it’s beautiful the way it is, though it could use with some helping.”

“Life and death side by side. One day everything here will be dead, which will one day provide for life.” She stood and took up a trowel, making her move to a dying potted plant and digging within it. From there, she moved slowly to attend her task, undoubtedly in an attempt to revive it.

“This was my mother’s garden. When she was alive, she cared for it, and now so do I.

I’m not very good at it. I’m really not, but I see firsthand how life and death cycle to complete each other this way. I think, maybe it helped me come to terms with her passing.”

There was some part of me that had forgotten she lacked the gift of a mother’s guiding hand. Many years ago, as the rumor goes, Rosaline’s mother was slain right before her eyes.

As if reading my mind, Rosaline continued, “It happened in this garden, you know.”

“And you really saw it?”

“My mother sacrificed herself to save Aubin and I. Aubin was helping her tend to the garden. I, not so much of a green thumb, was chasing the fish in the pond.” She smiled as she looked at a pond that no longer housed any fish.

“After that, Aubin refused to ever come into this room again, thus, it was up to me to continue her garden in order to at least keep her memory alive.”

The two of us stayed together in the conservatory for most of the night, talking about how Rosaline wanted to revive the plants but not to emulate her mother.

Rosaline wanted to make the garden her own, something she could show her father and brother one day.

There was always this sense to her voice that revealed how naive she really was; Rosaline expected that one day, the three of them would be a happy family again. She was waiting for her father to put his grief aside and come to take care of them again. I pitied her.

That morning, in my free time before bed, I intended on talking to the castle seamstresses about my wardrobe. I’d wear whatever they wanted me to here, but I preferred to keep them, myself. Otherwise, I was being treated as little more than a child. 

I attempted to recall the directions to the tailor’s room within the castle. I had been told the directions when I had last spoken to Rosaline about being able to dress myself.

As I shut the door to her room behind me, I was prompted to keep it open by a maid who needed to enter the room. I examined the little lady up and down and smiled at her before letting her through. 

"Was it left, second right, first right, left at the third door and the second door to the right?" I tried to recall, speaking quietly to myself. I followed these directions, hoping that my memory was correct. I had never walked down several of those halls and they began to look very different from anything I had seen.

"Who the hell comes up with these floor plans." I groaned as I approached what might have been my destination.

A beauty with long black hair answered the door after a few knocks. Her piercing green eyes stared towards me. She was thin with warm skin and carried the beautiful scent of fresh laundry and honeysuckle.
"How can I be o' help tae ye??" She asked with a voice as soft as a lull. Her accent was quite strong and I wondered where the Vampires had picked her off from.

"I was told to see you about some clothes." I told her, staring into her emerald eyes.

"Mattathias? Our guid lass spoke tae me aboot yer needs an passed on yer instructions already"

“Aye, I've that job you wanted done, right now.” The apron clad seamstress left the doorway to grab the extra request I had been granted already.

I peeked inside of the room and realized that many other seamstresses also worked within its walls. Many russet colored, metal sewing machines aided some who were sewing but others were doing their crafts by hand.

Most of the women here wore their hair piled on the back of their heads in messy buns, dressed in aprons that seemed to reflect their personal preferences. Around them, the room was cluttered with fabric, linens, and threads.

These women clearly lived in better condition than I had previously. My mother and I lived in the outdoor quarters, where several of the lower class servants were destined to live their lives in stone and wood houses with several rooms stacked on top of each other. Many servants lived in just one of these buildings. We were overcrowded and underfed.

Our job was to keep the grounds clean from unexpected visitors and those who roamed our grounds. These humans and other creatures were to fill our needs.

We truly lived off the land. Leaving the grounds meant facing the wrath of our Master or being slain by the alliance.

We, Incubi and Succubae, got first dibs on the stray human who would wander onto the grounds. Our particular type of feeding required that our prey be alive for it. Not only would we partake of their blood, but also our sexual proclivities.

Those who were born into the race were forbidden to act on sexual desires until their coming of age. They instead received their life giving food in the form of blood, as the vampires who disfigured us had.

As I had arrived here for my coming of age, I was naturally drawn into our race’s desires. Every woman I saw seemed like a potential meal. As I looked upon the beautiful ladies of the room before me, I undressed them with my eyes, wondering how they would taste.

And yet, it wasn’t the servants I wanted to focus my energy on. When I saw them, I saw my family; Everyone here was as captive as they were and I refused to stoop to such levels.

Instead, I found Rosaline in my sights. Someone who stood at the top of the food chain on these castle grounds.

I wanted so much to feel her bare figure beneath my strength. I wanted to pin her down and leave bloody marks on her beautiful fair skin. To hear her screams of disgust and agony as I had my way with her, making her mine in almost every aspect.

I was filled to the brim with excitement as I imagined those hateful eyes aimed at me.

"Are ye feeling a wee bit dodgy, sir?" the seamstress asked, snapping me from my fantasies.

"I’m fine.” I waved off her concern and smiled deeply at her, “Tell me, what do you know of Rosaline?”

“She's a bonnie lassie wi' a heart o' gowd. She used tae come watch us stitch an tried her hand at it hersel'. She'd bring us cakes and tae in return for us teachin' her. Hasna been that way years, no sin' her mam died.”

“Thank you for sharing that with me, and thank you for the clothing. “ I held up the paper wrapped parcel as I showered her with my gratefulness.

“Ye're welcome tae come back if ye needing anything mair.”

I threw my hand up in a wave and turned my attention to navigating the irritating maze once more.

My room was fit for a king, not for some lowly servant like me. Walking into it with something of my own in hand finally made me realize that this was going to be my way of living for the rest of my life.

No matter how much I fought it, I had become a prisoner who was too well off to complain of his cell.

I put my things away and undressed before falling into the plush bed covered in silks. The bedding smelled so freshly laundered that it reminded me of the ladies who were working on my clothes even before the sun had risen.

They didn’t seem unhappy, at least not with Rosaline. In fact, they were practically singing her praises.

A naive little girl, that’s all it was, right? Once she knew better, surely she’d become ruthless and cruel. A beautiful ruthless heiress that I would be happy to take down a notch. If she were nothing short of a beautiful, innocent soul….

It might have been better to see her squirm around. To distort a kind and precious face into something completely opposite by pushing her buttons could do just as well for me.

No.

I didn’t want to take advantage of the innocent. It was her that I wanted because of her place in her family’s hierarchy.

Ambrosius had created us, disfigured us only to become his slaves. He’d despair at the state I had put his daughter in. I’d live knowing I would be hunted down but also with the satisfaction that I had soiled his bloodline.

Or maybe Rosaline would fall in love with me. Once Ambrosius died, I’d be able to see that my people were set free. It wouldn’t be so bad getting to see her beautiful visage every day, either.

If she really was as kind as the seamstresses made her out to be, Rosaline would readily agree to letting them go.