𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐘 𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐋𝐋

prelude

Drawn by midnight-bred horses through the vast thick forest of oak and birch that seemed to stretch past the border and into the second world itself was a carriage equally as dark as the ones who pulled it through the never-ending thicket of branches, moss and stone.

The thunderous trots of two, what appeared to be a purebred Friesian species, echoed into the distance, its coat a lacquered black and each one's main shined and trimmed by what to be the gods themselves carefully trimming each unworthy hair. Each bore visors to focus their vision foreword, but even their eyes seemed to be endless, vast, inhumane.

This carriage was that of the undead. And inside the blood-red plush interior, its door handles crafted from the finest of gold, windows shielded by a sombered lace curtain that danced just within reach of its beloved glass but alas, it would sway away otherwise, whilst bearing a strong contrast to the Ebony carved exterior, there was a slight modern touch to this carriage.

Immortalized in style, perhaps.

"Adalicia?" a voice as smooth and lacquered as byzantine silk broke the silence inside of the carriage. Pallid skin of a velvety texture but with a slight crimson blemish under his bright grey eyes watched the figure in front of him. He shifted his broad shoulders up on one side before shifting over to the other in an uncomfortable manner. He grew bored, tired, hungry, and downright impatient with his method of transportation. Reaching his hand in her direction, he couldn't help but to hesitate little by little, retracting every few advancements. He knew Adalicia, when she didn't want to be bothered she was a hellraiser, as ironic as it could be. But she had been sleeping for a long time, his stubborn curiosity got the better of him.

"Adalicia." a hint of annoyance grew in his fathomless voice, pulling any unsuspecting victim further into his unrecognizable allure.

His hand was close to her chilled cheeks, her equally discolored skin and fatigued under eyes matching in hue, but in contrast to his white hair, hers was a soft hue of pink, pastel even. She was a particular one to have it down her back, wearing two braids to secure it out of her face, but he noticed that there was a single hair that clung to her cheeks ever so, was her perfectionism wearing thin? Or was it due to the bumpy ride to the manor that caused her locks to uproar in rebellion, one by one.

Softly, he used his index finger to lift the stray hair from her cheek, her peaceful expression never faltering, as if she were dead all over again. When he successfully motioned the stubborn strand away from her porcelain face, he was in turn caught off guard by a smaller, gentler, but equally pale hand gripping onto his wrist, her small gold pendant dangling against gravity, a dark red liquid swishing around in its holster.

"Erich. If you wanted to touch me, we've long grown past the formalities hundreds of years ago." Adalicia's one eye opened to reveal a pale glossed pupil.

Adalicia was blind.

Erich scoffed as he attempted to retract his hand, but Adalicia didn't let go so easily; instead, she pulled his hand closer to her full, rosy lips, planting a soft kiss on his knuckle, only to leave him softly wincing as she broke a bit of skin over the bone, playfully lapping a small drop of blood on her tongue with a smile. Releasing her grip, Erich immediately pulled his hand back to examine the mark.

"Can't you wait for the party tonight to feast?" Erich inquired, using his thumb to halt the flow of blood.

"I can. But I want your blood."

"Ada-."

"Erich. You killed me 400 years ago when I was 20 years old. The least I can have is your blood."

"Its not that." Erich had an etch of worry across his brow as he tapped his thumb on his opposite bleeding knuckle.

"Then, what?" Adalicia sat straight up, adjusting her cream-colored Victorian style dress that revealed her smooth shoulders and a slight bit of cleavage. She purposely crossed and uncrossed her legs, furthering Erich's discomfort.

"Only mates can exchange blood." Erich spat in remorse.

"And?" Adalicia failed to find the point to his protest. Cross, uncross.

"You are being married to the Lord. And we are going to this manor. Don't you understand? We can't continue this."

Adalicia sat back in her seat with her arms crossed, her eyebrow raised in annoyance. But then it softened into one of a breakthrough.

"Then I'll have you both." Adalicia's fanged expression chimed from cheek to cheek, even hinting a tiresome blush.

"Ada- We-"

Erich tried to protest again, but there was a halt to the carriage, and seconds later 4 brief knocks. They've arrived to the Lord and Adalicia's soon-to-be husband's estate.

But Adalicia's mischievous grin never faltered, and Erich knew this grin too well. It was the same grin hundreds of years ago when he coerced her into following him into his quarters that faithful day.