"Liza, hang in there! Please!" Bella jostled the woman lightly, trying to rouse her back to consciousness. She glanced at the doors, up the expanse of the front of the castle that towered over them. What was only a moment felt agonizingly long as she waited anxiously for the door to open. Why was no one coming? She reached out to pound again on the door, nearly falling as it swung open. Her eyes met the Prince's. Nothing needed to be said; it was obvious he was aware of Liza's situation.
Everything happened so quickly after that. Liza was rushed away, hardly a glance spared in the redhead's direction. She slid off the horse, thanked it and gave it a pat on the neck, and entered through the open doors. She propped the crossbow by the door to the basement and followed slowly, listlessly down the spiral staircase, the frantic voices, standing a few stairs up against the wall where she was out of the way, in order to watch. Her heart sank with each passing second that Liza remained unconscious. At Imogen's declaration, she turned and headed back up the stairs.
"She's not going to make it?" The words echoed hollowly in her mind, drowning out Imogen's questions. "She's going to die? Because of me?" Her eyes drifted down to the marble floor of the great front hall, then gradually up the length of her nightgown. It was hardly recognizable as the white gown she had fallen asleep in hours ago, soaked through nearly to the hem with blood. Liza's blood. Bella brought her hands up, staring wall-eyed at her palms. They were red and sticky. All at once, the fear and despair hit, causing her stomach to somersault. She stumbled forward a couple of wavering steps. She was going to faint. She was going to be sick.
"I.. I..."
The latter won over. Bella's stomach lurched dangerously and she pursed her lips. There was just enough presence of mind for her to think: "No, not here. Not on the clean floor. Not in front of them." Without warning, she broke into a run, flying through the front doors, not stopping to wonder that they were still open. She made it out into the grass a ways before she couldn't hold it anymore and doubled over so hard that she collapsed onto her hands and knees. The wretching lasted only a few minutes before it devolved into sobs. The ground blurred before her eyes as they filled with tears.
"Why?! Why did it have to be this way?!" Bella's forlorn wails filled the clearing in which the castle resided.
Finally, she sat back on her heels, breathing hard, and wiped her face with the single somewhat clean spot on her remaining sleeve that she could find. She pushed herself up on shaky legs, a strangely numb sensation washing over her. The former urge to faint returned and she dizzily made her way back to the door, fighting to stay upright. Her shoulder hit the door with an audible thud, causing her to sway. Bella made it as far as one of the columns before her legs gave out and she sank against it.
"I never would have thought that something like this would happen.."
The still and calmness of the dresser, carpet, couch and light golden sun rays was ever so palpable, adding detail to the curves and likely imported fabric of the curtains with every second the sun rose over the east's horizon. That royal purple shielded Bella from a good portion of the gradually stretching sunlight she lay between. To her left, hanging above the door to the castle hallway, a portrait of Carthya's deceased rulers, the Queen being one of three in the bedroom with hair as bright red as the morning sunrise. The atmosphere could not feel so tranquil if it were not in lieu of the disturbed visions and deathly encounters not twelve hours prior. It was so peaceful, in fact, you might think it were a concoction of brewing distress manifesting itself as a hellish nightmare. Perhaps Bella had tripped while chopping firewood, or an old dusty teapot had gradually inched to the edge from atop the cabinet with each time the kitchen door closed and fell upon her head while she just happened to be chopping tomatoes and it turned out there were no such thing as magic butterflies or forgotten castles or enchanted rings or lurking vampires who dug their fingers into you like they were kneading bread.
Needless to say, that was not the case.
"Sleepwalking?" Sophia sat as still as ever, she was always less rowdy whenever Liza made her rare trips. She had to, if she wanted to play with her crossbow. She was also better at teaching them archery than Henry was. He never wanted to race horses, either. She always brightened up the place, just as Bella did. She gave them hope, much like Bella did as well. They knew she was trying to help break the curse. It took some time for them to understand why she couldn't just tie the knot with Jaron so everything could somewhat go back to normal."I wasn't born like other girls." she tried explaining, "I feel love differently. The way your mom and dad love each other - is how I feel about other girls." it made no sense to the kids - everyone except Landon, in fact. That was not to say Jaron cared to pay love any mind.
Liza took a big, juicy bite out of a fresh apple while she sat beside Sophia, legs crossed, arm resting on the couches frame, "Yep. Been watching it happen for a while." Sophia, beaming at Liza's newly cherry redden pair of eyes, hadn't slept since she saw Bella unconscious, laying against the column closest to the castle entrance, covered in blood. Her eyes had swollen from all the tears, the muscles in her face sore from all the terrified crying. Even though Liza was the one truly in danger, she hadn't left Bella's side and helped undress and bathe her. "You snuck into her room while she slept?" she asked, perplexed. Liza's poker face wasn't all too convincing, but she hardly kept anything from Sophia, or tried to anyway. "Sorta." Brows furrowed, she twirled her left foot that lay rested over her right leg and took another bite of her apple. "Oh!" Sophia exclaimed, "You used the mirror?"
Liza pursed her lips, placing a finger to them as she raised a dubious eyebrow, "Shhhh" Sophia mimicked her excitedly, always happy to add to her growing list of secrets, "Shhhh."
A giddy silence ensued. Liza glanced at a sleeping Bella, watching Sophia's green hood rise and fall on her chest as she lay in Sophia's bed, the hooded cape spread over her body up to her neck. In turn Sophia followed her gaze, then turned back to her ruby eyes, "So that's when the smelly dead people showed up?" Liza continued working at the apple as she thought out her answers, like she were not the victim of what was necessarily a fatal encounter. "Yep, and the butterfly and the circle of protection, yada yada." Liza spaced out for a moment, her expression now weighty at the recollection of what had occurred. She felt a churning in her stomach and an electrifying sensation up her spine.
"I knew you would protect her." Sophie pronounced earnestly, eyes beaming. Liza rubbed the back of her neck, feeling less inclined to continue eating her apple. "Well," she began regrettably, "If it wasn't for her, I don't think I'd be here. She's pretty brave, she could have turned and hoofed it out of town, leaving me to die. Plus I kinda nicked her on the arm with my crossbow."
She shook off her unease, turning to smile assuredly at Sophie, "So, I guess we were protecting eachother. But I should have been more careful" Sophia appeared quizzical, "I thought it was impossible for people to escape Millicent, except the Vigil of Meridia."
Liza shrugged, turning her attention back to the apple for another crunchy bite, "Well, yeah. That's true, too." Sophia became lost in Liza's eyes for a moment as she assumed more of a serious manner, "I guess it's the same for you now, too?"
Bella opened her eyes to the gray panels of the molded ceiling seen through the sheer canopy over her bed. She blinked, sighed, and closed them again. It was evident that it was already quite late; and in spite of sleeping for so long, she still felt tired. No, tired wasn't the right word. It was more like she had been drained of energy. A headache throbbed behind her eyes, which she could feel were slightly puffy. Funny, she didn't remember crying.
"Miss Bella~" A sing-song voice chirped on the backwash of the bedroom door opening and closing. The heavy drapes were thrown open, letting in the morning light. Bella groaned and pulled her blanket over her face. "Miss Bella, do you plan to sleep all day? It's almost noon." A maid of mousy brown hair and brown eyes came to stand beside the bed. The miss glared at her over the edge of the blanket. The maid frowned, her brows knit with concern. "Don't you feel well? You do look a little pale. Perhaps I should bring you breakfast in bed, today?"
"Thank you, Blesse, but I'll get up." Bella tossed the covers back and sat up. "That's the spirit, Miss Bella!" Blesse smiled and crossed the room to the door. "I'll bring you a warm cloth to wash your face and a cup of tea. That'll make you feel better."
Once Blesse had gone, Bella clambered out of bed to stand in front of her vanity. She looked a fright, so much so that she was startled by her own reflection. She sat down on the bench, picked up her brush, and ran it through her tangled hair. Something didn't feel right. Ah, but she would play the music box; that always made her feel a bit better. She looked to where it usually sat on the vanity. Oh! It was gone!
"Blesse? Have you seen my music box?" She ran her hands over the top of the vanity, as if the box were simply invisible. It wasn't there. She opened the drawer on either side, yet it wasn't in there either. "BLESSE!?" She nearly hollered and stood so fast that the bench almost toppled over. The door opened.
"What are you screaming about?" A voice asked. Bella turned to see a woman with long red hair standing in the doorway. "My music box, have you seen it?" She disregarded the unfamiliar woman, guessing she was a new maid. The woman bared her sharp teeth in a smug grin and sneered. "It's not yours anymore."
"I-I beg your pardon!? How dare--" Bella didn't get to finish, for the woman turned and walked out as if she had better things to do. A moment later, Blesse returned. "Blesse, who was that?"
"Who, Miss Bella?" Blesse placed the tea on the vanity with the washcloth. "That woman with the red hair just now." She demanded. "Oh, Millicent? She's been here a while, Miss Bella. I'm surprised you're only meeting her just now."
"Is Papa still here?" Bella asked, clearly impatient. "Yes, miss. He's in the parlor." Blesse appeared confused by the miss's temper, but said nothing that might make it worse. As soon as Bella was dressed, she flew down the stairs and burst into the parlor.
"Papa, I--" The words dissolved into a strangled sound in her throat. Her father sat on the sofa, arms outstretched over the back cushion. Beside him sat a lovely blonde woman. "Good morning, dear." Said the familiar yet strange woman. She stood and closed the distance between her and Bella, throwing her arms around Bella's shoulders. "My, don't you look lovely." Her hands slid down Bella's arms as she stood upright, gripping them hard. Bella winced, not entertaining the woman's statement. There was a strange quality to her face. It was as beautiful as she remembered, but her skin didn't quite look like skin. It had a visual texture similar to painted canvas.
"P-papa, who is this Millicent? I simply asked where my music box was and she was incredibly rude."
"You mean my music box with the humming birds? It's on my dresser, dear, where it's always been." The blonde woman answered soothingly, her grip tightening. "I told you; it's not yours." Millicent stood in front of the fireplace, that snide expression on her face.
"Papa! Are you going to just sit there?" Bella appealed to Hugh, whose gentle smiling face had started to droop. He opened his mouth, but all that came out was a groan a frog might make if stepped on. His jaw sagged so low that the skin of his face ripped. Bella screamed and back up, pulling the blonde woman along with her. Her face too seemed to melt away into a skeletal monstrosity. She looked around desperately for someone to help. A couple of maids were creeping up the hallway behind her. No, they were wearing the maids' uniforms, but they weren't maids. They were creatures, too. They were surrounding her.
Bella woke with a start. Morning light grazed the rich purple canopy over her head. She sat up, forked her fingers through her hair. She did indeed have a headache and her eyes still burned from all the tears. Her gaze fell first on the cloak then crossed the room to the sofa where the two sat. Her heart skipped a beat. Was that-- could it truly be?!
"Liza, you're okay!" Relief washed over her. Something was amiss, though. Her eyes weren't red before, were they? "Your eyes.... you're...What happened?" It was then that she realized that she was clean, no longer covered in Liza's blood. The nightgown wasn't hers; this one was nicer and lacked the tears and blood stains.
"Your breath smells like spoiled spaghetti sauce." Sophia leaned forward, cackling at her own witty jest. Liza looked to Bella, then Sophia, then back to Bella. unable to keep a straight face. She would have laughed if it weren't true, although the remark quickly lost its humor once Liza recalled having to brush her own blood off of her Haflinger with a thick sponge earlier, which was far from appetizing.
She was glad to see Sofie was feeling less grisly about everything though and pulled a girthy pouch out from her leather pants, its contents clunking into one another. She untied the golden string that sealed a hefty amount of gold coins much larger than the average Carthya pound and more than fifty times as valuable; just one was enough to exceed the width of Sofie's still growing palm, which Liza deemed as enough to tempt the girl elsewhere to avoid any more innocent wisecracks. She clearly meant no harm, but there was much to discuss with time of the essence.
"Hey honey, why don't you bring this to Landon? See if you can't take Bella for some crème brûlée." Sophia, mouth-watering, appeared hypnotized, but would not be leveraged so easily, "Mmm," she squinted at the thick coin, the crafty gears in her brain turning at full speed, "Last time Landon went to town, he said the price for crème brûlée had gone up since the traders started monopolizing cream and sugar." Had it not sounded like something straight from an economics lesson, Liza might have humored the girl, instead raising another dubious brow, "Yeah? Well, Landon told me witches turn liars tongues into pig tails."
An embarrassed and slightly intimidated Sophia accepted the rebuke, swiped the coin out of Liza's hand and ran out the door to prevent Liza from displaying any more of her cunning wit. Liza scratched her head, her coin pouch lay beside her, its golden string strewn over its bulk. She turned to Bella like she was seeing her for the first time.
"Your horse's name is Farren, right?"her voice rose to a higher, more animated pitch. "And your family…" her eyes trailing up to the purple canopy as she recollected the names "Celine…..Robby…..and Hugh, your father." she focused on Bella's eyes like they were a coffee table with several dozen pieces of a puzzle littered everywhere, "Did I get them right?"
A scarlet tint slowly but surely stained Bella's cheeks. She wasn't proud of getting sick and the whole night itself was something she would rather have forgotten. Her gaze dropped and averted to a random corner where the two were out of her line of sight. She liked children, but forgot just how frank they could be, especially when class dictated how much they could get away with.
Bella watched the child leave, unable to help smiling. It faltered a little when she turned her attention to Liza. The change in pitch sounded suspicious.
"Yes." She answered, though it came out more like a question than it was meant. Her brows furrowed, amber eyes anxious. "Y..yes, why?" Dread seeped into her thoughts, spinning all the horrible possibilities as to the reason for Liza's question. If not for it being about her family, Bella mightn't have wanted to know. She bit down on the inside of her lip.
"Did something happen to them?" There was a slight tremble of her voice. Her tone and her expression were serious.
Liza felt as if she had punched Bella in her gut, scarlet flushing her own cheeks, "No, I'm sorry. Erm," she uncrossed her legs, adjusting the braids and ponytails that ran down her back with both hands. Her hair was styled the previous night in an intricate bun that prevented its length from possibly restricting her movement, but now was undone, spanning the length of her back barely reaching below her waist.
"Ahem." she cleared her throat as an awkward pause ensued. "Any day now…" a few moments dragged on before the monarch butterfly's light flashed upon Liza's knee where it stood perched. The mystery it evoked, by now, must have been irritating, seeing how it remained as that - a mystery. "My friend here, she, well, you two know each other right?"
Bella closed her eyes, releasing a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. It felt as if a great weight had been lifted from her chest. The butterflies in her stomach settled, although; she still felt a bit shaky. Residual nerves from a stressful night, she told herself. "Oh, thank goodness. You scared me." She laughed it off, though it was likely obvious just how scared she had been. There still remained a question or so she judged from the way Liza danced around the topic. A sneaking suspicion rose at the appearance of the orange trouble maker. If the monarch had something to do with it, it couldn't be good.
"We've met, I suppose." Bella narrowed her eyes at the monarch. She didn't know up until that moment that it was a she. She definitely didn't know her at all. "She's the reason I'm here in the first place."
"Yeah, well..." it was like they had switched places; now Liza was the one who felt nervous. She stood up completely self conscious of herself, crossing towards the chair tucked into the vanity as slow as possible while she tried to ascertain everything she was about to say; feeling an oddly great deal of pressure seeing as she took to slaying monsters without a second thought. A heavy sigh escaped her as she gripped the frame of the chair, standing before the vanity for a brief second.
The monarch fluttered about the room aimlessly, landing on the windows glass pane. Liza set the chair before the window, her pale skin glowed in the sunlight. The closer she was to Bella, the more evident her glowing became; she seemed to be radiating golden glitter. One would have to infer the fluttering of the monarch's wings could not be helped and was a symptom of its anticipation.
Liza set the chair down to face the corner of the bed, so she could look back and forth between Bella and the window's view of the barren trees surrounding Inverness. Her brow twitched as she sat down and reached down the collar of her shirt, pulling out a rich unopened chocolate bar that was still hardened from being stored in a cooler somewhere in the castle.
She tore half the paper off and gently tore off a chunk, gingerly offering it to Bella, "For your nerves?" she wondered if Bella even trusted her, despite being happy to see she was alive at least. She addressed the copper redhead in earnest, whilst enjoying the rich chocolate that melted as you bit into it.
"Can you tell me about the last few weeks? Let's start with last night. What happened to you? Why stand in the middle of these cursed woods with nothing but pajamas on your back?"
Nervous tingles sent a shiver up Bella's spine. As much as she wanted to believe she could trust Liza, she wasn't sure she trusted anything that had to do with the Prince or this castle. There were too many secrets; too many things were up in the air for her to be certain. She was no less grateful for Liza's help and held no ill will towards her for any of the events that unfolded; however, there was magic involved. Where there was magic, one couldn't be too careful. "Laughable, you're the one who followed a butterfly into the woods." While she kept her eye on the glowing young woman, she seemed disposed to listen to what she had to say.
"Oh, thank you." Bella took the chocolate, staring down at it for a moment. She couldn't remember the last time she even had chocolate. If not for the nerves alone, she might have eaten it already; however, she wasn't sure she'd be able to stomach it after last night. So as not to be rude, she took a small bite off the corner. It was good, sweeter than it once had been yet better than she could recall the treat ever tasting. Perhaps that came from so many months of not having it?
The hand holding the chocolate dropped several inches. What happened? That was a mystery, too, among many others. The hand that was not holding anything fidgeted with the hem of Sophie's cloak.
"I honestly don't know. It's.. I'm not sure how to explain it. It's been happening for, well, the last few weeks. Perhaps a bit longer than that. It's like the woods calls to me." The tone of her voice suggested that she was offering Liza silk thread with which to build a bridge over a ravine. "I would fall asleep in bed like normal, but every day, I'd wake up farther and farther from it. There were these dreams. I don't remember them very well now, but I was following voices. They were more like whispers, but I couldn't tell what was being said. They always sounded so far away, leading me to the woods. The dream last night, though.. It was completely different. I saw the castle, the Prince.. I saw what happened." She glanced between Liza and the monarch, where her gaze rested. There was some obscure comfort in its glow, like sitting around a fire with family.
"I think the woods have always had a draw to them, but it's like.. it only ever affected me. Neither Father, nor Celine, nor Robby seemed to notice anything. Farren can detect something I think." Bella looked back at Liza, shrugging her shoulders with a wan smile. "I woke up in the woods to you calling me. I suppose I walked out there.. Asleep."
Liza soaked in everything Bella had to offer, munching away at her chocolate bar. She stiffened as Bella began to detail her dreams. She could feel her heart throb in her chest. How she sympathized with the forge house girl! "She's too nice for her own good." she thought and had often fought the urge to usher Bella and her family as far away from Esterwell they could go. It was difficult to bear the sound of her innocent voice.
"You mean, the night of the massacre?" Liza confirmed, perplexed. She crossed her legs once more, leaning towards Bella to meet her eye. Her entire demeanor changed. "No turning back now. Not since she set eyes on place." she reminded herself. "You needn't worry for your family, Bella. Should something befall them, surely the townsfolk in Esterwell would take notice. That would not bode well for the powers at play that confine everyone to the castle." Liza's cheeks stretched into an unwavering grin. "It is you the woods are afraid of." The gravity of what she spoke of evoked a sense of irony about her enthusiasm. "You are a young, beautiful lady with no strings attached to anybody. That is what the woods fear the most." Too conflicted by nine years of her own futility, she briefly looked away. You could almost see the yearning desire each of the castle's residents suffered in her eyes. "I regret to say, that is their greatest threat. I've done all I can, but there are forces at work beyond a human's control. Even if I am a vampire, I can only sit and do nothing while these powers grow stronger everyday."
The monarch spiraled down from its place high upon the window to where Liza set her gaze, its orange hue contrasting the blue sky bleeding into the horizon above that ever present cluster of clouds. Liza's ruby eyes fell back to Bella's, they stayed locked on her irises, "I ask about your family because I've been watching you since the day you arrived in Esterwell." She eased onto the edge of the bed, grazing her hands around Bella's, lifting them into her own. The monarch leaped off the window, gradually descending atop Liza's clenched knuckles. "We both have. It wasn't long after you arrived we could see great potential within you.
We decided to lead you here - because you have the power to undo everything that's happened here. So far, you've only exceeded our expectations. Rather than running with your tail between your legs, you stand strong, facing everything here head on." Tears began to swell in Liza's eyes enough that they could be seen, but they would not fall from the lids they pooled. "I've been dreaming for someone like you to arrive for a long time. We all have. I'm not asking you to believe me. You just have to follow your heart - and everything else will fall into place. As long as you stay true to yourself and the people you care for, you can change everything."
The door handle clicked, the thick old wood creaking as Sophia stepped inside. She felt as if she had interrupted something, standing awkwardly beside the door, her hand wrapped around its handle. "We're going."
Liza released her gentle but firm grip on Bella's hands but not before giving them a sentimental squeeze that would suffice for a hug goodbye, even though a goodbye hug was hardly appropriate since they hardly knew each other. They all seemed to treat Bella like she was an extension of themselves. "I trust when the time comes, you'll know what to do." Liza hadn't anticipated being so cryptic with Bella. She knew there must have been a million questions and concerns and she was more than ready to oblige as best she could. But when she looked Bella in the eye, she knew answers would only manifest doubts, pressure and may even scare Bella away, even if she had endured everything up to that point. "You are the answer."
Liza gathered her coin pouch and was out of the room faster than you could say spoiled spaghetti sauce. Sophia watched her disappear as she rounded the corner down the hallway, turning to Bella visibly confused. "Liza's not coming?"
Massacre. That was certainly a good way to describe it. It was like nothing Bella had ever seen before excepting the vision the monarch showed her the day she followed it into the woods. That, she supposed, was a sort of preview to the night's dream; although, it was vastly more tame by comparison. The images remained fresh in her mind despite how long it had been, and were still as vivid as ever. Now, in combination with those of the massacre, she had a lifetime worth of horrors to haunt her while she struggled to fall asleep at night or to seep into her dreams and taint them. It was doubtful that they would fade no matter how much time passed.
Taking another larger bite of the chocolate, Bella carefully considered Liza's words. So the woods were afraid of her because she was, as another Elizabeth once told her, on her way to becoming a spinster? If not for the serious undertone to the words the silver-haired young woman spoke with a debonair smile, she would never have believed it. In fact, if anyone else had told her such preposterous things, she would have laughed herself red in the face. That didn't make it any less painful of a pill to swallow, though. The new life she was just getting used to had been completely uprooted. Home, a place that was supposed to be a safe retreat from the world, was now just as dangerous if not more so. The worst blow of all was that she was essentially among strangers in exile. The comfort and warmth of family was gone, leaving her cold and alone.
"Not entirely alone." Bella tried to take heart in the welcoming feeling she got simply sitting at the kitchen table with Landon and Imogen, to remind herself that they were trapped in all of this, too.
"Y-you were?" Her cheeks flushed with heat. If not for Liza's hands holding her own, they might have been trembling. It wasn't just her imagination, after all! There really were eyes in the woods watching her. A frantic search for something to say came up empty. She opened her mouth only to close it. There were enumerable questions she wanted to ask, and that she ought to ask, yet she couldn't bring herself to do so. Liza had more confidence in her than Bella had in herself. How could she be so sure?
"Going?" Bella turned her copper head as Sophie poked hers in. "Oh, right. Dessert." She recalled, feeling mildly cheated as Liza made her hasty getaway. "No, Liza's not.." Then, like a kick from a horse, it hit her. "My clothes... I don't have any! I can't go anywhere dressed in a nightgown - and this isn't even mine!" She took an anxious bite of the chocolate, chewing vigorously, and took to pacing the length of the room. It was her plan to pack some clothes among other personal affects to make her trip to stay at the castle. The forest robbed her of that entirely. A comment that Liza made the previous night rang in her head: "It's not like there isn't probably a hundred pairs of shoes where we're going."
No. No. She couldn't possibly wear the dresses that hung in the wardrobe, let alone wear any of the shoes. They weren't hers to take, not to mention, they were so gorgeous. They were more beautiful and luxurious than anything she had owned in her old life in the city. She would look more like the scullery maid caught trying on the mistress's clothes.
"There's no telling how he would react if I did. He'd probably get angry. Maybe I could borrow something temporarily just to go get my clothes? Ah, but it'll take me all day to get home and back on foot, and I'd rather not face the woods after dark again if I can avoid it.." Bella muttered to herself as she paced, nearly forgetting that the child was there.
Surely, one must be daft to think you could lure the castle rascal away with coin and talk of desserts. Liza must have forgotten Sophie was notorious for wearing blouses and skirts instead of dresses primarily to slide breakfast muffins down her shirt, or all the times she was found napping belly up in the pantry with chocolate all over her hands and mouth. Little did they know that being locked in her bedroom as punishment was what she preferred ever since the monarch brilliantly displayed its magic and revealed the false door painted on the wall to be a hidden passage leading just outside the nearest wall surrounding the castle.
She just had to make sure she was back in time for dinner.
Once Sophie had ran far enough down the hallway, she made sure to tip-toe her way back to her bedroom, gently pressing her ear against the door. Rarely would she pass up the chance to eavesdrop on anything, so long as there was even the slightest indication it was out of the ordinary. Most of these efforts to remedy her boredom left her grasping at straws, how daft you'd be to think she would let crème brûlée lure her away after last nights commotion!
Sophia gingerly showed herself in, throwing herself onto the bed as Bella narrated the dilemma of her wardrobe. Without lifting her head off the plush comforter, she turned to watch Bella pace back and forth and felt similar to the way someone her age would upon being gifted their first house pet. Bella was certainly not a pet in more ways than one and was not there for Sophie's amusement - but she was certainly amusing in more ways than one. It wasn't her predicament that was humoring, certainly not to Sophie who was old enough to empathize with her to an extent, less in regards to being separated from her family, more so the adversity of getting lost in the woods and stumbling upon a great castle only to be thrown in the dungeon by a burly man with half a face. And the whole doubling over on the grass, too, but how could Sophie not tease her for it? How could one speak when their were few differences between her tongue and the entrails of a fish dried up on shore?
To think Liza thought of Bella in the same way Sophia did, it was comforting to say the least. Liza was smart too; much older and very talented, she knew things other people didn't, ventured where no one else would dare set foot, even risking her life for Valford's former copperhead dweller. For her to have faith in Bella was the highest honor anyone could receive. Maybe understanding why Bella didn't think like other people wasn't as easy as falling off a log, but that just spoke to her character; it painted her a special kind of flower, lo and behold she would find herself where flowers grew from concrete.
Sophia could undoubtedly watch Bella pace back and forth until the distance of her steps were equal to the length between her and the moon, but seeing her in distress only compelled her to do something, or rather appoint the one she would think could. Sophie lifted herself onto her knees, her amber eyes seemed as orange as the monarch's wings she laid them on while lingering in the canopy's shade, "Can't you help?" her tone made sport of the monarch for its wondrous tendencies, its capabilities just as mysterious as its presence.
Rarely would the monarch show any indication it could understand them, you'd think it only communicated in abstruse visions and arcane anomalies. It seemed to take Sophia's question as a challenge, making its way above Bella, showering her in spiraling rays of sparkling white gold like Bella were the eye of a storm. As they rained down passed her, her nightgown transmuted, taking the form of a white blouse, its buttons running down the white rose attached to its collar to the pastel pink skirt, the more transparent outer layer of the skirt reaching her calves, riddled with flowers of the same color congregating at her hip while a few floated onto her new pink and white shoes.
"My turn!" Sophia cried, grinning ear to her as she leaped off the bed, colliding into Bella so as to take her place underneath the monarch, unable to remain still as if she were anticipating a parade of skylight fireworks, "Me next!" she insisted, but the magic vanished and would only return by the monarchs will, leaving Bella to don her new outfit. Judging by the transparency of the skirts outer layer, its design seemed to be intended for alluring the affection of an afflicted prince.
An orange glimmer passed overhead, bumping Bella from her frantic musings. It was honestly surprising to see the monarch was still there after Liza left; then again, Sophie was there, the likely reason it stuck around. Hopefully, it wasn't simply waiting around to send her on a quest or lead her through more hidden passages to unknown ends. Her eyes followed the monarch, the shimmering rays it swirled around her reflecting in them with the luster of stars, and traced their path downwards. If there existed such a thing as fairy dust as there did in books, it might have looked something like that.
"Oh!" A gasp escaped her lips as her weight shifted backwards from the collision of Sophie's small form against her own. She took a couple of stumbling steps, hands out front of her to catch the child should she fall. "Sophie, be careful." A failed attempt at what might have been a gentle reprimand if not for the amused smile and giggles. A glimpse of her reflection in the mirror of the vanity compelled Bella closer to get a better view.
The nightgown was gone, transformed into an outfit befitting a lady from the city. A light and airy blouse with sheer puffed sleeves cinched into ruffles at the upper arm made the top. The ruffles at the neck tickled her chin when she looked down; a hand reached up to delicately touch the rose on top of the button placket. The skirt was a rosy pink like a summer sunrise, bearing flowers as fresh and fragrant as the blooming meadows of Esterwell in spring. It too was sheer and showed more leg than the maiden ever would have dared; there were straps that went over her shoulders. The matching shoes fitted perfectly, as could only be expected of shoes made with magic. Ah, there were even flowers in her hair, the golden undertones of which stood out, complimented by the pink.
"Um, thank you, but this is really....fancy. And why is it see through?!" Bella shot the butterfly a flustered look in the mirror. "Could you maybe tone it down a bit?" Of course, the question went unanswered. The sibylline butterfly didn't seem inclined to listen, ignoring Sophia's desire for an enchanted change of clothes. There was a tint of color on Bella's face that the skirt only intensified. After a long moment spent pondering whether she really should go out as such, she heaved a sigh of resignation.
"I guess we're going, then." Though she said this, Bella made no immediate move towards the bedroom door. When she had reluctantly shuffled in front of it, she hesitated to even open it, her hand resting on the door handle. She took a deep breath, opened the door, and stepped out. "So where exactly are we going?" Bella asked Sophie on their way down the long corridor of the West Wing. Presumably, they could get desserts in the kitchen; however, going to the kitchen to eat didn't require payment, especially not of such caliber as that Liza provided. Did this pursuit of crème brûlée involve a sashay into town? Perhaps her clothes weren't so far out of reach, after all.
"Crème brûlée?!" With most of his hands and shirt still covered in Liza's blood - which now was nearly entirely black and dry enough to crack on his skin - just the thought of something as insignificant as crème brûlée tore Jaron's attention away from the fireplace he had not taken his eyes off of since Liza's ruby eyes opened, gazing into his own. Bloody footprints trailed behind his chair, out of the den and down the great hall to the basement entrance. The floor would have been pristine long ago had Jaron not ripped the mop out of Imogen's hands, which now lay broken in half on either side of his chair.
"Are you serious, Sophia?" Henry sat at his usual place on the velvet couch against the wall, making an effort not to leave the prince's side since the previous night after having Imogen see to Bella's wretched state. He clearly appeared exhausted and began to experience intense anxiety the moment Sophia lead Bella into the den, despite seeing Bella appear somewhat rejuvenated and more sultry than ever, fashion wise. His anxiety was a terrible blend of exhaustion, the detestable sight of Liza's stab wounds and all the blood that poured from her gashes and a sixth sense for one of the prince's episodes; he felt the worst of them had yet to come until now.
Abhorrent to the idea of dessert, Jaron's disgust dilated at the sight of Bella, "You?! What are YOU still doing here?" he was sent reeling from her appearance, "I thought you had a family to worry about?!" Henry, unable to watch Jaron berate Bella, tried to intervene, "Your Majesty, don't you see? It's not safe for Bella to be near the woods. She should stay here, with us."
"Not safe?! For Bella?!" visibly animated, Jaron stood from his chair, his rage aimed at Henry and any soul unlucky enough to be involved in the Prince's affairs, "She should still be in the dungeon, she nearly had Elizabeth killed! No, she DID have Elizabeth killed! Now Elizabeth is a monster, and we're trapped here FOREVER."
Jaron's bellowing caused Sophia to burst into tears, weeping as she ran down the great hall back up stairs. To no surprise, the monarch was nowhere to be seen. "SOPHIA! WHERE ARE YOU GOING?! YOU DON'T WANT TO SIT AROUND EATING DESSERT FOR ETERNITY?!"
Henry was quick to insert himself in front of the Prince. His height made him look down on Jaron, "Why do you always have to make everything worse?" Jaron seemed to relish being confronted. He stepped forward, closing the distance between them even further, "You dare to question me?! Do your duty, captain. Take Bella to the dungeon!" Henry did nothing and stood fortified, unafraid of the Prince. He was clearly upset by the Prince's behavior but the expression on his face was one of desperation, as if Jaron could read Henry's mind and hear his plea. Neither of them budged as they stared one another down. Jaron was hesitant to back down from Henry. The Captains dedication and service to him and his family was one of the last things that reminded him of life before the curse. If even Henry would not take his side, then he was, in a sense, truly alone. It was the first time Henry had ever disobeyed a direct order, too. "Tch, useless, as always. If you won't, I will."
With that, Jaron shoved himself passed Henry, his eyes locked on Bella. Henry lunged towards the Prince grabbing him by the arm "Jaron, no!" Jaron only stopped in disbelief of being addressed inappropriately and having his efforts physically hindered. His disbelief turned into rage that manifested into the very muscles in his face, arms and neck, which began contorting horrifically. He instinctively bared his teeth, nearly hissing. He used Henry's grip on his arm to hurl the captain into the farthest wall of the den, his armor clunking together whilst the impact of Jaron's strength sent veins and cracks shooting from the concrete indentation on the wall Henry wedged into - he had to press his hands against the wall, pushing himself off the notch outlining his body. It would be a miracle if the force of the impact did not kill him; should his head hit the wall at a specific angle, he would have died. Henry lay on the ground in great pain with a terrible headache instead.
Nearly killing his subordinate seemed to satisfy Jaron's rage enough for the time being, although not without roaring at the top of his lungs from the pain that came with lashing out at his own protector - in the blink of an eye the Prince was only a blur shooting through the doorway of the den, up the steps of the great hall, heading nowhere fast.
"Of course, we had to come see him." Bella stood a few feet behind Sophia, shifting her weight uncomfortably from one foot to the other, eyes focused as far away from the Prince as possible. Not even she could be sure of the source of her discomfort; whether it was the the translucent nature of her magical frock and the eyes of two men that left her flustered or the fact that Jaron was still covered in, what was now dry, blood, was arguable. It could be said, too, that his egregious temper played a role. His anger and disgust radiated off of him like heat from a flame, choking the air out of the room like thick black smoke.
"What do you--? But I--!"I was supposed to come today, anyway, she started to say, but the words caught on the lump forming in her throat. The Prince's words stung. It was he who asked her for help and yet he acted like he wanted her gone. On top of that, he threw salt in the open wound that was her guilt over the night just past. She wouldn't deny that it was her fault; although, by any rational faculty, one could see that it was more or less a series of unfortunate events as intertwined as a tangled piece of string. That didn't change her thinking that, if she had said something a month ago, none of this would have happened.
Bella reached out for Sophie when she ran, her hand grazing the child's shoulder. Her instinct was to go after her, so what was stopping her? She stood staring at the empty space the little girl occupied only seconds ago.
"Useless." The word echoed in her ears with all the resonance of a cathedral bell. It wasn't even aimed at her and yet it perfectly summed up what she was feeling in that moment. What was Liza thinking? There was nothing she could possibly do to remedy their situation. It was impossible.
"I'm not the answer." Bella swallowed hard, turning finally to face the Prince who was now in a face-off with Henry. Watching him fling Henry across the room so effortlessly, her stomach dropped and twisted all at once. How despicable! How could he do that to the man who dedicated his life to protecting him? She closed the distance between her and the captain, snatching a pillow off of the sofa he'd been sitting on to place under his head. Her eyes glistened sadly.
"You probably shouldn't move too much. I can go get Imogen or, I mean, unless there's something I can do? Oh, Henry, I'm so sorry. Thank you for standing up for me." She offered a smile, but her heart wasn't in it, and placed a hand on his shoulder.
Henry brought a hand up as Bella offered him a throw pillow. He sighed, lifting himself against the wall and could only speak in heavy grunts for a moment, forcing himself to speak through the aches and pains coursing through his whole upper body, "Of course, I-..ugh….it's not your fault…….I should have expected that. He's very sore about Liza." He sighed even longer this time, taking a moment to be grateful for having never removed his armor, which he could tell had absorbed a decent amount of the impact.
"Don't worry, I'm alright." he looked at Bella with a blank expression, appearing clearly jarred, but his stoic demeanor was not beyond him, "You should have seen what happened to my face." Grinning, he sat still against the wall, trying to adjust to the aching of his upper body and head, which became more bearable with each passing second. It was not, by far, nearly the worst of the harrowing injuries he'd ever experienced. "I'll tell you about it, someday. For now, we should head to the basement. It has been four days now, has it not? The Prince was just overreacting. I was also out of line. I should not have disrespected his majesty. He's just worried about Liza. She is helping us find a cure. He'll be fine, trust me, he just needs more blood."
As Henry attempted standing on his own he quickly surrendered to a sharp and sudden pain coursing through his whole upper body, amplified by even the slightest movements, which suggested he was downplaying the severity of his injuries. By his ample grunting and gurning expression it would not be a surprise if he had a dislocated bone or two; his panting and clenching of his abdomen conveyed that possibility.
Bella held onto the pillow, long slender fingers fidgeting with the decorative piping, and hugged it lightly to her chest. In spite of Henry's assurance that he was fine, he clearly was not, and it made her feel all the worse. Her nails audibly scraped the velvet as her grip on the pillow tightened. She could understand being upset about Liza; she was upset, too, but did that really warrant this kind of behavior?
"I have.." The thought was tinged with sympathy for what Henry had suffered, accompanied by a replay of the gruesome scene so vivid it was as if she was watching it play out a second time. Bella couldn't tell him that, not now, probably not ever.
"Yes, it has. Maybe he'll feel better… after." She tossed the pillow back onto the sofa. More blood, huh? Would that really do any good? It seemed to her that Jaron's temper was a personal problem, not one dependent upon blood to be relieved. An ambiguous mix of emotion swirled behind her glowering gaze, only made worse by the obvious pain Henry was in, before she pasted on a smile and followed him down to the basement.
Thankfully, Jaron had spent the entire day in the den, which allowed Imogen to clean the workshop as best she could, with some help. Evidently she wasn't able to soon enough - many of the Prince's maps and parchments were soaked through, hardened from all the blood, looking as if a bottle of wine had been spilled all over them. The table was an especially dark purple and seemed to have preserved much of the color in the blood that fermented within. Imogen would not dare to quit the basement until at least the floor had been scrubbed down to what might have been the very depths of the earth had she not ceased. The box containing the extracting apparatus lay atop the menacing table with its glowing symbols and skull that looked down upon it, untouched from the course of events that had occurred in the shop the previous night.
Henry rested against the far end of the workshop, the front and back pieces of his armor lay beside him. He clenched the sides of his olive drab linen shirt, discernibly larger without his clunky armor. He had Bella scour the east wings first floor in search of Landon who would extract blood from Bella in his place, seeing as he could hardly move an inch without fighting the urge to wince in pain. It was really no surprise someone of his stature would be so stubborn in regards to his injuries, although that might have just been a trait of the machismo he possessed as the king and queens front line of defense. He would not let that go so far as to potentially harm Bella, though, hence his employing Landon's assistance.
"Not so fast - make sure to find a vein first." he insisted, attempting to step forward and assist, but would simply grimace and heave back against the wall. "Do you ever take a break?" Landon jested coyly, folding the fine white fabric of Bella's sleeve up, "Who's the lucky man?" he teased, gesturing to flowers adorned on Bella's skirt. "Squeeze," he instructed, placing a sponge ball into her hand as he proceeded to tie a string of rubber around her bicep. "You must have seen enough blood for a lifetime." he thought to say, but the remark felt much too early, especially since Liza's blood still stained the table where the box containing the apparatus sit.
Landon set three vials into the box on the table beside Bella, "There, you're all set. We're having tea in the kitchen, if you care to join. Of course, if you're hungry, I can fix something." he spoke gingerly, not wanting to bring last night's mayhem to mind, although he could only guess how long it would take to move past it seeing as he only heard of what had occurred himself, unlike Bella who had pretty much witnessed everything. He was surprised to hear she had managed to get an unconscious Liza to the castle too. Landon had a far off look in his eyes while tying a piece of cotton where the needle had punctured. "What on earth are we putting her through…?"
"Right, your turn." he said, quick to step away and give Bella her space as he looked to tend Henry's injuries as best he could. "You're just a walking house of muscles, how bad could it be?"
The sight of the basement sent Bella's heart plummeting. All of that blood was Liza's? There was so much of it. So it was true, then, what the Prince had said. She had indeed caused Liza to die; and whether out of desperation or a gross refusal to let go, he changed her. Guilt took her stomach in its unrelenting grip and twisted it until it physically ached. How could Liza possibly believe in her so after all of this? Things simply couldn't go on this way.
If Bella had been in a better state of mind, she might have responded to Landon's attempt to lighten the situation. Instead, she kept her eyes focused on her blood. Normally, she would avert her gaze, unable to stand the sight knowing what was going to be done with it. It could be argued that she'd simply seen enough blood in the past twelve hours that it no longer fazed her. That was far from the reason.
Once her sleeve was unrolled and the cuff properly buttoned, she stood. With a glance to Landon and Henry, she snatched the vials from the open box and disappeared up the spiraling stairs. Bella couldn't be sure of where the Prince had gone when he left the den, but headed for his study regardless. Her steps were brisk, her purpose evident in the echoes of her footfalls. She rapped on the door with her knuckles twice, not bothering to wait for an answer before walking in.
"This is it." Bella marched to stand in front of the desk, extended her hand, and let the vials roll onto its surface. "This is the last of it. I won't be back."
The study was in abysmal shape, as if a hurricane had seeped through an open window. At first glance, it seemed the Prince's desk was the only item in the room that hadn't been wrecked beyond repair. It sat where it always had been, surrounded by debris like it were the eye of a storm. The Prince could sense Bella as she traversed the stairs and corridors from the great hall to the study, becoming more still with each passing second she closed their proximity until he stood like a statue, staring at the curtains draped over the windows. Every candle in the study had been knocked from its sconce. If not for the midday suns rays seeping past the edges of the curtains behind the Prince's desk, you would hardly be able to distinguish his silhouette from the dark.
Candlelight crept upon the remnants of furniture and décor as the study doors swung open, sufficing to make the disarray prominent; the Prince's white shirt and pale figure contrasting the velvet curtains he gazed at. He was still as a corpse, remaining silent for what must have been a century. As Bella's malice was clear as day, the Prince could only try to make her disdain for him akin to his for her, "You don't have to prove yourself to me." he turned to face her gripping the edge of his desk, but his eyes seemed drawn to the vials, as if he could not help to stare intently at them, the thickness of her blood trickling down the glass, almost like it were made of honey. Suddenly the idea of smashing his belongings felt childish and superficial, like a primal instinct, if only for a brief second. The Prince looked to Bella, the animosity in his cherry eyes nearly as palpable as Bella's own, if it were not so deep rooted in rage and misery and revenge, reducing any rational ideas and rebukes into snide wickedness.
"I know you're just a worthless girl, nothing more than a pain in everyone's side. You don't have to act like one, too. What's the point in running off and being somebody else's problem when you're already mine?"
Eyes that were warm and inviting like a cup of lemon tea with honey shone in the dark by the gold-edging of the candlelight through the open door. They more closely resembled stained glass seen in the cold light of a gray winter morning than liquid amber resin. Her gaze was hollow, reflecting the Prince's contempt. It was evident even in the low light that her posture was rigid, but her shoulders were drawn back in line with her ears and her chin was raised. The timidity demonstrated earlier in the den was nowhere to be seen whether this was a polished bravado or genuine confidence she was displaying now or not.
"Your opinion of my worth doesn't matter enough to me to warrant trying to prove myself to you. You're nothing more than a spoiled brat and a bully, throwing tantrums when you don't get your way." There was a condescending undertone to those words that one might not have imagined possible from the redhead. "Well, congratulations! You'll have your way. I won't be your problem anymore; I'm leaving." Bella turned as though she was going to leave, only about forty-five degrees, then paused. "Oh, but wait. You wanted to throw me in the dungeon. Then, I also seem to recall you asked for my help? You know, I'm getting very mixed signals here." She placed a hand to her chin in dramatic, feigned thought and tutted. "I would ask what you truly want, but I honestly don't think you know. Not that it matters anyhow, because I have a family to worry about." Bella gave an exaggerated dismissive wave of her hand, finishing the rotation to face the door.
As they admonished one another, Jaron wondered if Bella could reciprocate the rush he felt in his chest exchanging petty disses. He was regrettably just as tied to his impulses as his vitality was to wherever the sun would not shine. Henry instantly came to mind as Bella continued to rebuke his pitiful attempts to place everyone else at fault for his own misfortunes.
"Your Majesty, how could you feel that way?" Jaron recalled Henry's dutiful companionship during one of their countless evenings spent in the very same space Bella and the Prince occupied now, that familiar sense of camaraderie superseded by spite and contempt. "She's a humble woman, from Valford of all places. What is so absurd about that? She's been like a dear friend to us."
the Prince would not take his eyes off the fiery red sky where the sun had made its descent. He was less opposed to acknowledging Bella's qualities, but remained rooted in his stubborn cycle of thinking as Henry was with the idea therein Bella lied potential for love, "If you think so highly of her, why don't you throw her a party - if she's so special, why would she care to give me the time of day? She'll forget about us, just like everyone else."
How the only person in the world that would walk through fire for the Prince should he need it had now turned against him, was beyond unfathomable. Now Bella, who surely would not harm the hair on a fly, was going out of her way to shun the Prince and his self-destructive ways, refusing to be of any more assistance, or rather what she had once perceived her back and forth to be. If Jaron had realized his fear and misery comprised itself of impulsive tongue in cheek outbursts, he might have apologized, asked for forgiveness and sought to compensate his victims for his negligence; his desk might have survived as the last piece of furniture in the study to remain intact, too. He began to condemn Bella and her family to hell in multifarious muddled phrases instead, launching his desk into the corner of the room once she was out of eyesight.
There were no good-bye's, no words spent trying to explain what just took place or why, no rhyme or reason given whatsoever. There was hardly a glance spared for anyone that Bella might have passed as she flew down the corridor, down the steps of the grand entry hall, and out the great front doors. How was she supposed to explain why she was leaving? What could she possibly say that would lessen the blow of the fact that she wouldn't be returning? She was their beacon of hope, well all but the Prince's, and she was abandoning them. Nothing she could say would break that to them without only hurting them worse.
"It's for the better. I was never supposed to be there in the first place. They did fine without me before, they'll do fine without me now." Bella told herself, trudging along the path that Henry had showed her a month ago. Where she had been in such a hurry to leave the castle and get past its gates, she now walked at an almost sleepy pace, in spite of the fact that she knew she ought to hurry lest she still be walking after nightfall. The last thing she wanted was to repeat the previous night. She stopped, turning to face the woods that loomed up beside the road. "I'm done; I'm done, you hear?! So leave me alone!" With that, she broke into a run and didn't stop until she came to the sprawling meadow that the little forge house sat in.
By that time, the sun was setting behind the tops of the trees, leaving the house in a thin veil of shadow. Warm light shone from the windows, casting a golden glow on the lush grass. Bella stood at the gate that bordered her little garden. A strangely bittersweet feeling washed over her briefly as she entered the garden and ascended the three steps to the back door. Her toes curled against the grains of the wood. Wait, what?
"Hm?" Bella looked down, surprised to see her bare feet. She had been wearing shoes a moment ago. That was when she noticed that the flowery dress the monarch had made her that morning had once again become a nightgown. What happened? Did the magic wear off because she left? Whatever the reason, it mattered little. She was home now, for good and ever. She grasped the knob and opened the door.
Long the Montagne family sat round their kitchen table, talking over cups of tea. The family was happy to hear that the youngest member would no longer be making trips into the forest to some mysterious ends that they knew nothing of. The idea that there was a castle in the middle of this wood, which spanned more mileage than could ever be fully explored, where there lived a prince who was supposedly dead and was some terrible creature that lived off the blood of others, held little reality for them. They couldn't even picture the dreams she told them of or the corpse monsters she and Liza ran from. All they really understood was that there was magic involved; and none of them understood magic.
Bella sat staring into her half-empty teacup. Dinner had been cleared from the table, the food on her plate hardly touched; although, the only thing she had eaten all day was a piece of chocolate. She was home with her family, yet found it incredibly difficult to be happy. It felt like she had done something shameful and it hovered over her like her own personal storm cloud. Excusing herself under the guise of being tired from the walk back, she retreated to her room where she collapsed onto her bed. She was tired, but it wasn't due to physical fatigue; it was an emotional exhaustion. In less than twenty-four hours, she had been all over the emotional spectrum. That didn't mean that she would sleep though. The fear of repeating the previous night was far too great for her to even consider sleeping. She hugged her pillow, her back to the window and the woods beyond it, and buried her face in it.
After the disorderly affray that transpired last night and well into the afternoon following the Prince's violent outburst, Imogen and the rest of the Prince's staff followed a routine in place of their usual formal customs, such as gathering in the dining hall and library at specific hours of the day for their meals and studies. Imogen and Landon would spend most of the day taking turns supervising the children outside, trying their best to avoid discussing whatever was interfering with their day to day regimen. More often than not though, it was something involving the Prince and his temper, which had even landed the children in the dungeon for a considerable amount of time on one memorable occasion.
Still, they would inevitably persist they share details, especially when it involved something as extraordinary as Elizabeth being brought back from the dead. Imogen had Sophie to thank for indulging her cousins with the fact, who inevitably came to find out more than they preferred since she would not leave Bella's side. After all, the workshop was the one place they did not have secret access to through the hidden passageways in the castle walls. It was difficult to neglect them from seeing a 'recovered' Liza too, since her visits were more than rare and greatly looked forward too by the three of them, as was Bella's, who they were glad to see as well even if she was passed out the entire time.
With the sun beginning to descend below the trees, the workshops blood stained table disposed of, bloody footprints mopped, Henry finally convinced to stay in bed for the rest of the night and the Prince barricaded by his own volition within his quarters, it was a suitable time to gather the children for a late dinner and return to their lives which were already abnormal enough. As Sophia insisted she lay in her room until dinner rather than wait in the dining hall with her cousins, a new sense of abnormality was only just beginning.
Imogen briefly kept Landon company before checking on Henry who was fast asleep. She assumed the Prince had gone on one of his nightly outings. She was more than sure he had not consulted with Henry first as he always did before leaving. Being the first instance of him leaving without telling anyone might have been cause for concern had Imogen been aware of the missing vials and the details of Bella's abrupt departure. Imogen only began to worry as a strange sensation overcame her while shifting back and forth through the castle that she could only liken to being dehydrated.
"Sophia?" Imogen rapped her bedroom door, not hesitating to call out her name several more times when she would not respond. She quickly let herself in, spotting Sophia upon the bed, laying on her back. "Sophia, dinner is-" asImogen approached the redhead, she began to notice the child's small chest rising and falling rapidly, her mouth agape as she struggled to breathe. "Sophia?!" beads of sweat lay on the space of her forehead, her brows furrowed, expressing an air of malaise. Imogen pressed her hand against the child's strikingly warm forehead and cried for Henry.
Henry laid Sophia upon the dining hall table as Tobias and Amarinda stood beside them in an evident stupor. A thin gauze wrapped around Henry's forehead, his armor remained in the basement where he left it. Landon placed a bucket of water on the floor beside them, wringing a wet rag before placing it atop Sophia's forehead. Imogen raised her hand to her mouth, tears swelling in her eyes, "Oh my god..." Landon gripped Sophia's sweaty hand, none of them could take their eyes off her. "Where's Jaron?" Henry asked.
Imogen hesitated to say anything or look away from Sophia as her condition sunk into perspective "His room is locked...he won't respond when I call for him....I searched everywhere, I can't find him." Tobias and Amarinda glanced at each other, "I feel hot," Tobias admitted. Amarinda remained silent and dazed. Imogen frantically ushered them both onto dining chairs, feeling Tobias' forehead, then Amarinda's. "I'm feeling a little under the weather myself." Landon confessed, pressing the wet rag onto Sophia's forehead. Imogen shot Henry a terrified glance. "Henry?"
Henry did well to hide how deeply concerned he was, immediately recalling the Prince's distant behavior during the past few weeks. "Your Majesty, you still appear....unwell. Are you not taking the vials?" Jaron could not bring his eyes rosy eyes to meet Henry's, gazing forward as if he could see far beyond the thick velvet drapes, "I'm fine. I've merely built a tolerance for Bella's samples. I'll need to take more at once to counter the withdrawals."
The pang he felt from his lower back confirmed his suspicions. The Prince's condition was by far the worst out of everyone's, but he would not so easily take his anger out on Bella when he was fully aware who was to blame for Liza's death. That could only be the case if his withdrawals were effecting his mental health. Resorting to have Bella placed in the dungeon could only mean...
"He's not taking the vials." Henry concluded, a grave air washing over him. "He's not drinking blood." Silence ensued as Henry, Landon and Imogen exchanged brief, somber glances at one another. What was now occurring had been a long time coming. None of them could fathom the sensation of drinking blood, especially one belonging to a human, let alone what the withdrawals would feel like pertaining to such a disease. It was less than a disease; a wicked fate, like something from a horror story made to coerce children into behaving. Now the story was drawing to its nightmarish conclusion.
"Jaaaronnn! Jaaaronnn!" Henry and Imogen split up to cover as much of the castles grounds as quickly as possible, calling out to the Prince. "Jaaaronnn! Jaaaronnn!" Imogen halted abruptly at the sight of Jaron perched atop the grounds western wall. "Your Majesty," Henry called out, Imogen standing close beside him, "Sophia is in grave danger. Tobias as well, and Amarinda." He paused, trying to catch the Prince's eye. Jaron merely sat up straight, arms hanging between the legs, staring at the moon as it gradually ascended. "They don't have much time, none of us do."
Jaron appeared dazed, beads of sweat dotted across his forehead. A tingling sensation overcame his nerves as his heartbeat gradually increased. He would not look at neither Henry or Imogen, instead gazing across the field of grass that made up the castles grounds, the rose garden just several dozen yards yonder. "You're a fool, Henry. All we have is time." His mouth remained agape once he began to speak, "Don't you understand? What meaning does life have without death?" Imogen clenched her fists, tears sliding down her cheeks, "You're a coward! A disgusting coward who doesn't care if his own kid sister dies! You're killing her!" Jaron would not say anything further and appeared suspended, as if he were in a trance.
As the clock struck midnight, Tobias and Amarinda now lay on the floor beside the dining hall table. Landon stayed by their side replacing the rags on their heads as Imogen went back and forth from the outside, refilling their bucket with water at the well. Henry remained seated against the castles walls below the Prince, trying to convince him not to remain idle as their vitality deteriorated to no avail. As each hour passed, Landon wringed the rags slower. The bucket of water felt five pounds heavier each time Imogen carried it from the well. Finally, Henry entered the dining hall. Imogen jumped in her seat, looking desperately towards their stalwart protector. Landon sat on the floor between Tobias and Amarinda, grief-stricken. Even he had been at a loss of words for quite some time. Henry needn't say a word, they could see their future all over his face. They were almost out of options.
Imogen volunteered to ride Dullahan through the woods in place of Henry who, besides their deteriorating state, could not bear the ride in lieu of his injuries. Some instinct for survival seemed to kick in as she gripped the reins, soaring down the road past the hundreds of trees despite becoming gradually dizzy with every second. She did well to follow Henry and Landon's instructions, not deviating from her straightforward path until she breached past the woods into open country. The forge house would be the first to come within view from that point onto Esterwell.
"Bella! Bella!" Imogen called from atop Dullahan as she approached the two and a half story home, tripping over herself as she immediately dismounted. She proceeded to bang on the front door incessantly, attempting to turn its locked handle that would not budge. "Bella, Bella Montagne! I beg you! In the name of the royal princess, open the door! There is no time! Bella Montagne!" The sky began tinging from the nights blackness to a twilight hue.
Frantic footsteps resounded in hollow echoes down the empty corridors. There was a stifling stillness that was unusual even for the large and mostly empty castle. If not for the sounds of her own passage through it, Bella might have thought she had gone deaf. Her pace alternated between hasty scrambling and running in short bursts. Door after door she flung open onto uninhabited rooms, not stopping to wonder at why they were unlocked. Each room was stuffy, as though it had been closed up for months. Dust lay thick on every visible surface, even in the finely crafted details of the carved mouldings; cobwebs clouded nearly every corner, nook, and cranny. It was almost as if the place had been left abandoned and empty for some time. Something was wrong.
Each name she called out was absorbed by the silence, receiving no answer. Each time, her sense of panic and grief increased. At last she came to the partly open door of the Prince's study, which she burst through without regard for formality. The study was bathed in moonlight, the heavy drapes that covered the window pushed back as far as they would go. The study was still a mess, as it had been when Bella left, the only pieces of furniture still standing being the desk and the chair that sat behind it. The chair was turned to face the window. She approached the chair, placed a hand on the frame, and turned it round.
Bella's eyes opened to the white linen of her pillow. Her arms were wrapped loosely around it, her cheek resting on one corner. When had she fallen asleep? She rolled onto her back with a glance out the window. There was an identifiably blue hue on the horizon where the sky met the tree tops; what remained of the inky blackness had lightened to a bluish-black. Dawn was approaching.
The redhead hugged her pillow tighter. Something was wrong, though she couldn't say what. The feeling wasn't one that she was familiar with. She might have described it as dread, but it was so intense that the name didn't seem accurate. Perhaps it was a feeling that simply bled from her dream into her waking mind; or perhaps the dream was influenced by the feeling? A sound caused her to bolt upright. Her name. She threw her legs over the side of her bed, having just enough presence of mind to slip into her boots as she stood.
Bella descended the stairs quickly, not bothering to be quiet. There was no need, as her family was stirred awake by the yelling and banging on the front door. Robby was right behind her, followed by Hugh and Celine, who stood halfway up the steps. They were all taken aback by the woman at the door; however, Bella was the only one who felt uneasy. She stepped across the threshold, gripping Imogen's shoulders as she listened with increasing horror to what led her to the Montagnes' front door. Finally, she turned to face her family, who now all stood in the doorway, their awe and disbelief evident.
"I'm going." Sadness seeped into her gaze, though it was unclear as to whom it was for. Bella turned at once to Dullahan and climbed into the saddle, worried that her family might try to talk her out of it. Robby approached to help Imogen up, offering only a "be careful" before stepping back to watch them ride away. She urged the horse into a gallop, pushing him to go as fast as he possibly could. Once they made it into the forest, there was no sense of time. They could only hope, with no view of the sky from below the entanglement of bare branches, that they were making good time. By the time they emerged from the trees, the sky had lightened considerably; although, the sun hadn't yet breached the horizon.
"Where is he?" Bella asked as they arrived at the great front doors where she slid off Dullahan's back. With Imogen's answer, she charged through the door, made her way to the kitchen, and out the door that Sophia had led her through on her first day at the castle. While she didn't like to trample the garden, she paid little mind to the damage she was doing to the hedges and rows of flowers that she tore through to get to the wall on the far side. She came to stand below where he sat on the wall, staring beyond the garden, breathing hard.
"Hey!" The word was snappy, like a mother would speak to a child to get him to mind. The Prince seemed dazed, or he was simply doing a good job of ignoring her. "JARON!" She tried again, recalling how the improper use of his name by Henry had certainly caught his attention. "What to do, what to do?" Bella scanned her surroundings, searching for something that might be of assistance. There were no ladders nearby that he might have used to climb up there and thus none that she could use to get to him. The only thing she could find were the decorative pebbles in the flower beds.
Without hesitation, Bella grabbed a handful of the stones, took a few steps back from the wall, and threw one. It bounced off the wall and flew out of sight. "Damn, missed." She ground her teeth, stepped back farther, and threw another. This one hit in the middle of his chest. Yet another pebble was thrown, glancing off of his shoulder. "Get down here or the next one is hitting your head!" She threatened. Her arm was drawn back over her shoulder, poised to pitch the tiny rock in her hand. When he made no apparent move to descend, not that Bella waited very long, the threat was fulfilled. The pebble hit his temple. It might have been cathartic if not for the stressful situation. She readied another shot.
The Prince had not moved from his place atop the western wall since the sun had descended below the tree lines, an effort that would have not been feasible if his vitality weren't gradually deteriorating, leaving him disoriented; his stream of thought now a muddled haze. He was also struggling to bear a fever, becoming less distracted by a tingling sensation that coursed through him, he could not accurately describe nor determine how withdrawals should cause it. He constantly shifted his weight from leaning back onto his hands to his hunching his shoulders, often rocking slowly back and forth, eyelids hanging as his legs dangled off the side of the wall.
He began to think the ineffable exhilaration of witnessing his first sunrise outdoors after nearly a decade was likely causing the pins and needles that coursed through him, inflaming his nerves. It was unsettling to him how he could compare that tingling effect to the rejuvenating sensation derived from consuming Bella's blood. The butterflies in his stomach, however, was something he was sure he had never experienced. As sensitive his emotions had become he was not so soft that he'd often if ever feel particularly sentimental. The solace of knowing he would soon bid farewell to Inverness was possibly the most comfort he had ever experienced.
Most of the night was spent ruminating over the past twenty four hours, Liza's dilemma, sinking his teeth into someone for the first time, his lashing out at Henry. Despite the Prince's connections with Liza and the blue haired woman, they were not necessarily his comrades, nor were they in service to him. They certainly had not known Jaron as long as Henry had, they weren't even bound to Inverness.
The value in Henry's company only sunk in after Jaron sent him flying. Surely his fate being tied to his relatives and life long supporters was the most mortifying condition; he could not admit this to be his greatest burden. He would have easily perished by now without their support and company. An eternity of indentured servitude being the reward for their efforts and service was simply deplorable; the fact of the matter was all his mind could dwell on as he stared at the fireplace all day covered in Liza's blood. Turning Liza was only the beginning of a series of unbearable rage he could not endure or control.
"Why do you always have to make everything worse?"
"This is it. This is the last of it. I won't be back."
"I would ask what you truly want, but I honestly don't think you know. Not that it matters anyhow, because I have a family to worry about."
"You're a coward! A disgusting coward!"
"This place is truly hell." Jaron confessed to himself, watching twilight paint the sky. He had become all too familiar with the fiery red aurora of dusk. "I guess one blue afternoon is too much to ask for." he muttered, recalling his first morning at Inverness after the massacre, when he stood up from the edge of his bed and stepped into the suns rays that pierced his window. He might as well have pressed his face against the side of a kettle that sat atop a live flame for the past hour. There was no method he could use to gaze at the afternoon sky that wasn't degrading.
"Who would want to spend time with somebody that couldn't see the light of day?" It stung to think of the youngest Montagne and how she no longer cared to aid him even though she didn't have much of a choice to begin with. The moment he laid eyes on her he knew she would be desperate to leave them all behind and never return, her only memory of Carthya's prince consumed by fear and regret. He couldn't help but think her helpful demeanor was just a veneer of compassion; how she would happily abide if it meant she weren't a prisoner.
"Henry, you fool..." the sky continued its gradual phases into a lighter blue as the Prince cursed Bella for ever setting foot in their eternal prison, instilling false hope. He'd rather die alone than allow some commoner to reject his desperate advances, whether she was raised in a city or on a farm mattered little. He could not care if she was friendly or literate or an amateur pianist and refused to take acknowledge his own cowardice and lack of initiative. "Maybe I'm softer than I thought." The Prince listened as his name was called, although he could not even muster the effort it took to search where the voice was coming from.
"Seems I'm beginning to lose my mind." he thought at the sight of Bella, which surely meant he had succumbed to madness long ago, considering all his past actions and behavior, especially within the last twenty six or so hours. He was, however, beginning to nod in and out of consciousness and assumed he was delirious or even dreaming. "Why does her hair have to be red? She looks distinct enough already."
The initial shock of the first pebble hitting his chest made Bella stand out more from the surrounding grass, hedges and rows of flowers, her figure suddenly contrasting everything around her. "What...?" he was immediately jolted out of his ruminating stream of thought as the third pebble bounced off his forehead. Although he remained disoriented and dizzy from fever he was somewhat alert. Jaron glanced at the rose garden as it gradually became more vibrant and clear as the sun phased through its shades of blue. Any minute now daybreak would occur.
The impending sunlight and Jaron's curiosity made the ground seem more appealing. Despite being physically on the verge of death he inferred his inhumane strength could withstand the fall, likely due to his disoriented state, still he managed to tolerate the impact of the landing for the most part, pulling himself up off his hands and knees as he looked Bella up and down, unsure if she was really there. Her presence was unsettling and made little sense to him. He quickly dismissed it, not even offering a word as he nearly stumbled away from the rose garden. The Prince, now using the wall to support himself, trudged towards open space where there would be a clear line of sight between him and the sun.
There was too much distance between where Bella stood in the garden and where the Prince sat on the wall for her to be able to tell if she had caught his attention or not. The chiseled features of his face weren't as detailed and she couldn't even make out the red of his deep set eyes in the growing light; the direction of his gaze was indeterminable from that distance. Her arm remained drawn back over her shoulder, ready to fling another pebble, yet the pebble remained poised in the light grip of her middle and index fingers and thumb. Was this really the right approach? It would probably only make him angry and he would come after her like before. Her arm relaxed, then he jumped down.
The pebbles rattled and clicked against each other as they tumbled out of her hand onto the grass, the lone pebble she had been prepared to throw at him was flung aside, its use no longer required. A hasty half jog shortened the distance between them; however, Bella stumbled to a stop, checking her vague impulse to go to him. The look he gave her as he rose to his feet was too ambiguous to determine any possible motives he might have had in that moment. She stood frozen. If the circumstances were different, she might have been embarrassed to be seen in only a nightgown. This was the farthest thought from her mind at the moment, which was for the best.
"Of course, he would just ignore me." Bella followed Jaron with her eyes, unable to bring herself to approach him. "What do they expect me to do? Imogen? ...Liza?" Doubt seeped into her thoughts, enveloping the little flame inside of her in shadow, squeezing it until it was reduced nearly to an ember. "He doesn't even want me here." Her eyes rose to the tree tops beyond the wall, which were tinged with the first rays of morning light. Her heart skipped a beat and the flame sputtered back to life. "No, no matter what's happened 'til now, I can't let him go through with this!"
Catching up with the Prince was not a difficult feat as slow as he was moving. A full sprint brought Bella next to him in only a few seconds; and that level of effort probably wasn't even necessary, having stemmed from her sense of urgency. With one hand, she held onto his arm, which she draped over her shoulders, and wrapped her other arm around his waist. Their height difference was not so great that it lent much if any difficulty to supporting him; it was the pounds of musculature that he had over her that did it. While the months of hard work that came with country living had increased her strength and endurance and she could swing an axe with ease, the whole ordeal that was lugging near-dead weight as heavy as the Prince's would have been impossible if not for the adrenaline coursing through Bella's veins.
"What do you think you're doing, huh? Pulling a stunt like this?" Bella ground under her breath, though not so softly that Jaron couldn't hear it. She shot him a look out of the corner of her eye. "How could you? You have lives dependent upon you, lives that have already suffered so much loss, just like you. So why would you rob them of everything all over again? Do you not see how selfish you're being?" Her trembling voice rose with every word until she was almost yelling. "Everyday, they keep going; they haven't given up, for your sake! So how could you?! How is that fair to them?" As they walked, she was gradually pushing him towards the gazebo, the roof of which she could see over the hedges and walls of roses. Any resistance was only met with a surge of determination and a shove towards the shade beneath the structure.
"It's alright to be sad. I'll even say that it's alright to feel hopeless sometimes, everyone has those feelings, but it is NOT alright to give up like this! You have people who care about you, who want the best for you! They don't want to see you like this - I don't want to see you like this! So keep going! If not for yourself, then for them! Give them a chance even if you won't give yourself one!" Tears slid down Bella's face as she pressed on, her amber eyes burning like the rising sun. Once under the encompassing shade of the gazebo, she stood in front of him and placed her hands on his shoulders, giving him a vigorous shake. "You have to snap out of this, Jaron!"
It became quickly evident to the Prince that dropping from atop the wall was not as feasible as he'd expected. His inhumane ability to withstand the impact had tapped into the very last reserves of strength he had left; had he dropped from any higher he might have injured himself or become paralyzed from exhaustion. He could feel his heartbeats pulse in the veins circulating the sides of his head as his vision began to blur, he was so enthralled by the feeling of being gripped by the arm and waist he could not think to resist every bit of strength Bella used to support him.
He would have suspected she was trying to interfere with his efforts, but she made that crystal clear; he was completely absorbed in everything she had to say, even beginning to think he had fallen unconscious and was now dreaming. "What is this...?" even through the fabric of his dress shirt Bella felt cold against him, especially since she had just traversed the woods on horseback as the cool morning breeze sharply grazed itself upon her. She radiated a full nights forest trek worth of cool air onto the Prince's calescent frame that grew warmer by the second as they brushed together, trudging passed the hedges beneath the gazebos shade.
"They don't want to see you like this - I don't want to see you like this!" Jaron only remained captivated by Bella as long as he was sure he was dreaming, surely being punished with visions of the girl who was apparently his ticket out of eternities embodiment as he transcended it into the afterlife, yet the pulsing sensation upon his head would not cease and relax, he felt his chest rising and falling rapidly, his face flushed and hot, his legs ready to give way under him. Perhaps he was in fervent denial Bella had returned, not driven by moral character or her own well being but for their sake. It was not unlikely he was dreaming, being on the verge of unconsciousness, although it was blatantly obvious he wasn't as Bella shaked his being, pleading for his and everyone else's lives.
"Bella...?" His heart was nearly as close to stopping as the castle was from being fully enveloped by the suns rays. He might have surrendered himself too, just by her genuine concern alone; her tone of voice just as alluring to him as her aesthetic mien, even as she nearly began to yell for his sake. For a moment, she managed to alleviate his despair by the company of her heartfelt plea. He had grown numb to the pleas of Henry and Imogen and any notions of leaving Inverness behind. He felt he was just another tantrum, another outburst waiting to happen, only Bella's stern lecturing invoked validation, making him feel less alone, for a moment. Surely, it would not be long until she was just as fed up as he was.
"Well, congratulations! You'll have your way. I won't be your problem anymore; I'm leaving."
"Why, why?! Why are you here?!" He tried to step out of Bella's grip, but she was hellbent on holding him in place, "Are you mad...? LET ME GO!" Bella's efforts to prevent his demise stirred a panic in Jaron, he could not back away without pulling her along with him, choosing instead to grip her arms tightly, his only advantage being natural vigor over her feminine physique. He still possessed his inhumane strength, albeit what was left of it, yet even being as weak as he was on the brink of death his vampire strength trumped Bella's. He shoved her away with all his remaining might, stepping backwards passed the rose hedgerows surrounding them as the all encompassing rays of light descended down the length of the outdoors. "You wanted to begone, so stay gone!" the enervated Prince finally succumbed to his lack of vitality and crumpled to the ground onto his back, consumed by a vehement desire to journey into the afterlife in a bundle of flames. Jaron, grimacing in sharp agony, sat up, frantically using every fiber of his strength to tear the buttons on his shirt from the seams, surged by the adrenaline of the first rays of dawn that crept upon him that lead him to expose as much of himself to the sun he could to accelerate the process of burning alive. The pain was not as unbearable as the idea of spending one more day cursed to live by himself, who he came to despise more than anything, bound to darkness. The exhaustion of blood withdrawal firmly anchored him in place, he could not contain his death throes that caused him to convulse and bawl in torment.
The Prince was surprisingly quiet, docile even, as Bella admonished him. His expression remained stolid as ever; and it was arguable as to whether he was listening to a word she said or simply so out of it due to lack of blood intake that she might as well have been talking to the stone wall enclosing the castle grounds. It appeared he at least recognized that she was there as she stood in front of him. This alone gave Bella hope that she might have coaxed him out of his dangerous line of thought, but she realized as he seemed to come back to himself, that this was not the case.
"What do you mean 'why?!' I came back for you!" Taken aback as she was, Bella retained her grip when he tried to move away. His stubbornness was truly a force to be reckoned with; it was the first of its like that she had ever witnessed. Still, she wouldn't give up. "I won't!" She shouted hotly her equally stubborn refusal to let him go through with this destructive behavior, taking steps to match his so he couldn't easily break away. Only he did break away. It took effort for the Prince to separate himself, an amount of effort that Bella was honestly surprised he could even put forth given his weakened state. It was still enough to overpower her and his shove sent her stumbling backwards and subsequently sprawling across the paved floor beneath the gazebo with a yelp. She pushed herself to sit up, her expression one of shock and disappointment.
"I left because I.. I thought you wanted me to." Her voice was tremulous, as though she was on the verge of tears again. Before now, she hadn't considered the Prince's scathing remarks from the previous day very carefully. She had taken them at face value, understood them to mean that he didn't want her there. Like the blazing morning light spreading across the garden, it dawned on her that they may have had a different meaning. "Did he.. want me to.. stay?" Her eyes widened, mirroring the sun. She was beyond incredulous. How was she supposed to take "What are YOU still doing here?"and "I thought you had a family to worry about?!"to mean anything other than "get out"? How could she possibly know what he wanted unless he said something? Of course, the Prince wouldn't say something like that, likely due to pride.
Bella pushed herself up on shaky legs. The strength awarded to her by sheer determination and a sense of urgency was waning as the rush of adrenaline ceased. Already, she could feel the impending crash threatening to take her down. She wobbled to stand over the Prince, hooking her arms under his, and dragged him back into the shade. She nearly collapsed beneath him as she let go, breathing hard as beads of sweat formed on her brow. The garden was bathed in golden dawn, the sun having rose completely above the horizon. At this low point in the sky, the gazebo didn't completely block the sweet deathly rays what with the open space between the roof and the benches. With what little energy remained, Bella crawled to hover over Jaron, shielding him in a pool of shadow. The light caught her copper hair, paling it to a strawberry blonde.
"Okay, I think I understand now." A wan smile broke through her visible exhaustion. Her slender fingers brushed Jaron's cheek, swiping away his tears. "I can't begin to pretend that I know the pain you've suffered through for so long. I can't begin to imagine how horrible that must have been for you to go through." Tears spilled over her pale lashes and pattered onto his face. "You've had to bear a heavy burden all alone, but you don't have to be alone anymore." Bella slid her arms behind his shoulders, lifting him into a warm embrace despite the convulsions. "I won't leave you, so please, don't give up. For Henry, for Imogen, for Landon and the children - for their sakes, keep going. You don't have to do it alone. I promise." The words were barely above a whisper spoken into his ear. It occurred to her that her choice to stay wasn't just for her family's sake, for fear of endangering them, or for the sake of her own life, but for the sake of everyone at the castle as well. Still, there was uncertainty as to how exactly she could help; however, she was willing to try.
"You.. you should drink. It will surely make you feel a little better, yeah?" Bella sat back on her heels and brushed her hair behind her shoulder. "I don't know how long you've not had blood, and extracting it isn't really a possibility now, but it's okay. You can drink.. from me." It felt odd to be saying these things, as Jaron's intake of blood was never something they talked about personally; even so, she wouldn't quit now. "Please, Jaron."
The initial wave of searing pain jolting through the Prince's whole upper body and face caused him to faint, his cries quickly wavering into hesitant whimpers, then a long breath as his eyes rolled over in his head. He might relate the sensation to being stamped by branding iron on every inch of his exposed skin. He might as well have been; the aroma of burning flesh surrounded his immediate area. The pain was not gradual, rather instantly excruciating, although he did begin to experience a different kind of torment as he awoke to Bella's tears tapping his cheeks, his own tears beginning to swell in his eyes, mixing with Bella's as they flooded and began to stream down the side of his head.
Jaron's agony was accompanied by anguish, he cursed his body for surrendering to Bella while his mind still yearned to escape it. He wanted to curse Bella, too and would have, but could not find the energy to even speak a word. What felt like a million reasons to leave his life behind gushed through his head as rapidly as the tears pouring from their glands underneath his rose red irises. Surely if the sun would not take the Prince, his withdrawals would soon consume what life in him was left. As sunlight paled every strand of hair on Bella's hair hanging down beneath her golden eyes, he would soon begin to realize his fatigue would neither get the best of him. In fact, it was what forced him to remain fixed on Bella and her esoteric aura that mesmerized him, lifting each of the million circling reasons to die from his consciousness; every word she spoke acting as a needle steadily threading each of his dark thoughts with a silk light until he was completely overwrought with heavy nostalgia by her embrace. The Prince could not prevent his mind from being forced back into the earliest memories of his days at the capital when misgivings and trepidation sent him in search of solace.
Keeping his hands pressed to his chest in a ball Jaron sprinted through the open fields surrounding the capital's citadel with all the might he could muster. The abundance of guards that could be found scattered everywhere paid no mind as they were all familiar with Carthya's prince and his constant outings, he was permitted to walk the grounds and most of the halls, after all, which he barreled through, scaling several flights of steps until he was on the citadels highest floor. He'd scurry down one last great hallway until he arrived at a half-open door which he swung open with the frame of his body. "Mama!" He cried, running incessantly at full speed until he was inches before the Queen, "Something terrible!" was all he could think to say to relay the situation. He gestured to a baby Eurasian jay that lay still in his cupped hands. The Queen sat before her vanity in her boudoir, brushing her long, silky bright auburn hair. Slightly startled by the intrusion she rushed to turn round, raising an eyebrow at her son and the baby bird in his hands as she pursed her lips.
"Give him here." she insisted, gently cupping her hands beneath the bird, placing it atop the dressing table. "Where did you find him?" she lightly pressed into its body with her index and middle fingers, searching for any indication of life, despite being fully aware the bird was lifeless. "In the fields." Jaron confessed in a fret. "I've seen its mother perched on my bedroom window. What's happened? Why won't he fly away?" the Queen turned to Jaron, her hazel eyes beaming with sentiment and empathy. She caressed his hair, choosing her words delicately. "Do you remember the bedtime stories fathers told you?" Jaron nodded, brows furrowed, "Remember the one of Hamlet? How Hamlet and Laertes settle their affairs?" Jaron, having already assumed the bird was dead, sat beside the Queen at the dressing table, overwrought by emotion as he wrapped his arms around the Queen, burying his face onto her abdomen. They remained that way for a heavy moment, until the teary-eyed Prince looked up to meet his mothers eye. "But why did it die? It's just a baby."
The Queen glanced at the baby Eurasian jay that lay still atop her vanity. "It must have been pushed from the nest too early, before it was strong enough to fly." Jaron, still confused, persisted, "But, why mother?...why did this have to happen?" the Queen speculated for a moment, "Well, this was its destiny. We are all destined to an end some way or another. Sometimes, people's lives end before they are even as old as you are. Sometimes they end before they even begin." Jaron glanced at the bird, absorbing his mothers wisdom. He turned to ask her one more question, "Am I going to die before my life begins?"
The Queen gently wrapped her hands around Jaron's cheeks, brushing his tears back with each of her slender thumbs, "Not if you are strong enough to fight death before it can take you."
Jaron would have sworn he were staring into his mothers hazel eyes as Bella sat back. "Huh...?" her silky bright auburn hair lost nearly half its length, turning strawberry blonde in the sun as her hazel eyes turned to Bella's familiar golden colour, the distinct differences between her and the Queen becoming clear as day. As Jaron sat upright he grabbed Bella's wrist, scooting himself forward so as to avoid pulling her on top of him while he bit into the middle of her forearm just shy above of where he gripped hold of her. The act of feeding felt sublime and came naturally to him, causing his pupils to dilate, his irises changing to their natural colour. Jaron had to think twice about when to stop. Even after his fatigue subsided, the pleasure he derived from feeding directly overcame him. He grimaced as soon as it registered in his mind he had begun to indulge himself and pulled her arm away.
Bella's awkward hovering over Jaron provided the thin veil of shade preventing the scattered deathly rays that breached the gazebo from singing him further. He brushed at his mouth with his arm until he was sure there was no excess of Bella's thick blood remaining on his lips, wanting nothing more than to quit the light of day. Jaron lifted Bella up, carrying her to a patch of grass on the western side of Inverness' grounds shaded by the castle that towered above them. They were there, sat against the wall in an instant without even a mere few seconds having passed.
Jaron, having abandoned any presuppositions of formality in retrospect of the ordeal that had come to pass, simply sat beside Bella in silence, his frame resting above hers by a few feet as they sat beside one another, not considering whether she could withstand moving at such inhumane speeds. There were no words he could think to describe the newfound hope that reinvigorated him, the idea of separating from Bella now terrified him, how could he impart something like that to her in words? He preferred not to move from beside her until the time came their shade would disperse, remaining comfortable in silence. As soon as he was comfortable he felt the toll of having been awake for days overcome him and would give in to sleep within a few short minutes.
In that moment, as tears streamed down the sides of his face, the marble Prince became flesh and blood. The preconceived notion that he was just as stony inside as he was outside was relegated to a foolish, and perhaps mean-spirited, misapprehension based on limited glimpses of nothing but his ostensibly volatile disposition. In that moment, he was more akin to a young boy for all the raw, sincere emotion and his vulnerability. What kind of pain had the Prince known to cause such tears? How much had he suffered in solitude to push him to such extreme measures? It was unfathomable and truly heartbreaking. Bella's heart ached for the Prince and only fueled the, strange she supposed, desire to console him.
There was no apprehension on her part as Jaron's hand closed around her wrist, though there might have been some surprise on account of the apparent suddenness of the action. A sharp inhale accompanied an involuntary jerk as his teeth pierced her skin. Her eyes shifted away from him, not in any fear or loathing of the act or his condition, but out of habit and the concern that he wouldn't drink if she watched. With the loss of blood came a foggy tingling sensation that Bella could only liken to the sensation of a limb falling asleep or being so exhausted that it caused a sort of surreal wakened feeling. Her eyelids drooped until her irises were barely visible; and she lurched forward, falling into Jaron.
"I, I'm sorry..." Bella sat up and rubbed her eyes with her index finger and thumb. They burned and scratched like the scorching sands of Valford's beaches at the peak of summer. She ought to know after the many face plants she made running along those shores as a child. Perhaps if she could just sit for a minute and collect herself, she could wake up. The Prince seemed to have other ideas, for he lifted her from the paved patio. She would have objected; however, she was so stumped by the gesture that her mind went blank. It didn't help either that they moved so quickly; it left her dizzy and disoriented and rather felt like she was falling.
If not for the intimacy that had just come to pass, Bella might have been embarrassed; although, she could appreciate that it was not intimate in any conventional sense that she dared think about. Instead, she dared to be content - happy even - that she was able to help Jaron in some way. She rested her head back against the cool stone of the castle wall, gazing sleepily up at the morning sky and watching the last of the clouds turn white. The silence surrounding the castle was perfect, devoid of birdsong or the buzzing of cicadas; and yet it was peaceful, not eerie. It wasn't long, sitting there like that, before Bella drifted off to sleep, sliding sideways until she was leaning against Jaron.
The hours of sleep spent there in the garden were tranquil and undisturbed, unlike those of the past month characterized by susurrous nightmares. Bella woke slowly and piecemeal, taking note first of how their pool of shadow had shortened. She turned her eyes cautiously to the Prince, whose shoulder her head rested on. Never before had she seen him looking so at peace. His face was even more pleasing to look at when it relaxed. She averted her gaze, her cheeks and ears flushing with warmth to match their increasingly vibrant red hue, and sat up properly. Briefly, she wondered if she ought to wake him or go find something with which to cover him so they could make it indoors without his being burned. It led her to wonder, too, about the others. How were Henry and Imogen, Landon and the children all fairing? She hadn't had the chance to see Henry or Landon or the kids when she arrived as the Prince was her first priority; but if their conditions were anything like Imogen's, it was certainly cause for concern.
"I hope they're alright." She thought, ultimately deciding to stay put just a bit longer.
Imogen wrapped Sophia's arms around her neck, holding the princess up by her waist. She had already collected the rags from off the kids heads after confirming their temperatures had returned to normal, placing them in the bucket of water that sat beside the dining hall table. Once she had aroused Tobias and Amarinda from their fatigue induced slumber she instructed them to follow her to their bedrooms whilst carrying Sophie who was still weak from her fever.
After laying the princess in her bed and ordering the kids to rest she sought out an umbrella from a specific closet in a specific room where she had left it, having brushed the dust off of it more times than she could count. Seeing as everyone was gradually returning to normal, Imogen wanted to be prepared in case the Prince was somehow trapped outside. Having double checked his study, chambers and workshop, she ventured outdoors in search of Bella and the Prince.
Rounding the bend beside the castle grounds western wall, Imogen felt her chest leap and pull her towards a familiar head of bright red hair, hardly noticing the Prince who lay asleep beside her nor bothering to pay him any mind once she noticed his figure, "Bella." she called out to her, throwing her arms around the young lady once she had gotten her attention. She held onto Bella, hugging her for a tender moment before bringing her hands round the redheads arms, squeezing them tightly as she stepped back unable to express her gratitude beyond a gladsome smile.
She was slightly hesitant to address Jaron who slept beside them, the warmth of her expression seemingly having been brushed away by a sharp breeze as she turned to glance in his direction against the castles outer wall. "Ah, his Highness." she held the umbrella towards the sky, squeezing the rod on its handle as she slid it upwards in an effort to shield Jaron from the sun using the shade that the circular canopy provided.
Now a sharp breeze really had brushed passed them; the Prince had once again vanished from beside them in the blink of an eye. His inhumane speed wasn't what had surprised Imogen, rather she was confused why he chose to avoid her, perhaps even Bella? "What happened?" she asked, her perplexed self beaming towards Bella. She hadn't thought twice why the Prince lay asleep outdoors against the wall beside Bella, especially confused by the fact he seemed to rest so peacefully given the gravity of the ordeal he had put them through last night. "Hold that thought, you look exhausted. When have you last slept?" Imogen guided Bella to one of the castles many dens, this particular one sporting its own fireplace, much like the den in the grand hall. A decorous couch with cushions that could surely cure anyone's insomnia with its cushions that were as thick as they were soft rested beside similarly opulent armchairs with tranquil cushions of their own.
"Don't worry, surely there's an outfit of your size somewhere around here." Imogen mentioned, carrying a tray riddled with cups and a stout teapot into the den from the kitchen after having escorted Bella onto the couch, setting the tray onto a glass table surrounded by the lavish furniture. "We missed you yesterday. Henry said you must have walked all the way home. I know what happened between him and his majesty." she handed Bella her teacup on a saucer; as usual every last item in the castle seemed to be worth someones entire life savings if not a years worth of remunerations, right down to the gold-trimmed dishes.
Not bothering to even serve herself, Imogen finally plumped down onto the armchair, not realizing how tired she really was even as she sat upright on the soft cushion. "Bella, we're all in your debt. I'm sorry for intruding on your home in the middle of the night. We should have never let you become so involved." she was too tired to brush her umber hair away from her face, leaning onto the back of the chair instead. If she were to stop talking, she would fall asleep. "How can we ever repay you?" she let the question sit in Bella's mind for a moment.
Despite being grateful, she was more worried than ever. Whether she was good at hiding it or was in shock from the events that had just transpired was not clear, likely both were the reason her concern was unnoticeable. Rather than continue clinging onto hope that Bella would save them, no, continue to save them, she preferred the young lady would cease acting out of the goodness of her heart so much. She already found herself in danger of being harmed. Their solace was not worth risking an innocent life. She figured, if they were doomed, so be it. There was no use bringing Bella and possibly even her family down with them.
"We can pay you, actually." Imogen spoke up from the comfort of the armchair, having sunk into the cushions against her back, "Money, lots of it. Gold, even. We have more than a lifetimes worth. You and your family could move far away, back to Valford even. You could live worry-free for the rest of your days." she let the proposition linger in the air, showing no indication she was in favor of Bella deciding against it. Her eyelids began to sag down as she persisted, unwilling to take no for an answer. "Please, Bella. It's for the best. You deserve a life free from the Prince's tyranny. Make it a good one, for us." the strength in her voice gradually depleted, along with the volume at which she spoke. "We're eternally grateful." her eyelids gave way as she drifted into sleep and began snoring lightly within just a dozen seconds of having uttered the last few words she spoke.
"Liza, hang in there! Please!" Bella jostled the woman lightly, trying to rouse her back to consciousness. She glanced at the doors, up the expanse of the front of the castle that towered over them. What was only a moment felt agonizingly long as she waited anxiously for the door to open. Why was no one coming? She reached out to pound again on the door, nearly falling as it swung open. Her eyes met the Prince's. Nothing needed to be said; it was obvious he was aware of Liza's situation. 
