Cursed: Scarlet
Chapter 9: The ‘Fun’ In ‘Dysfunctional’

~Scarlet~

“It cannot be…” I whisper repeatedly, while Ian holds me, cradling me like a baby against his chest. After a few minutes of elation at knowing I can die, I snap out of my reverie, guilt gnawing at me. This was not the time to celebrate; he is obviously distraught by this.

“Ian…” I sit up, his arms loosening their hold on mine. Sighing, he lets go of me and pushes himself backwards. I pull my knees up to my chest and rest my head on them, watching him.

He gets up and runs his hand through his hair, his eyes never leaving mine. He turns towards the door, then back to me, obviously undecided, but I say nothing. I just pull on my hair, hoping he hasn’t known me long enough to understand what it signifies.

Eventually, after running his hand through his hair at least a dozen times, he goes to the door again. Turning towards me, he opens his mouth, and then closes it. Feigning indifference, I stretch my legs out, putting my arms behind me for support.

“I think we need to…take a break,” he says, seemingly relieved. I get up and pull down my shirt, but stay where I am.

“If that’s what you want,” I shrug, “But I still have to protect you, at least until the other Council members get here.” I look away from him, and cross my arms, hoping he’ll leave. I knew he’d try something like this, but I’m not going to try and stop him, it’s his life, after all.

He opens the door and looks back at me, obviously conflicted, but I shoo him away with my hands, and he finally leaves.

I sit back down on the floor when I feel his presence moving about his room and sigh, trying to calm myself a bit before I have to do anything else.

I’m jolted out of my meditation by the constant buzzing of my phone. I really do not like these things; all they do is make it easier for other people to stick their noses into my business.

Shaking my head, I get up and walk to my bookshelf, put the book away and turn to the staircase. Checking my phone before I go upstairs, I open a notification politely telling me that the High Council will be arriving in two days.

I groan and set the bottle down after I check the date that I got it. They would all be arriving the next morning. Picking it up again, I flash into the villa a few miles from the school grounds, the one reserved for anyone I invite to visit, and begin to open suites and clean them with various motions of my hands. Dust flies out of the windows, followed by cobwebs and various other forms of dirt.

Smirking, I lean against a wall, tracking the spell with my mind and thinking about the day behind me. I knock my head back against the wall, cursing myself for being so emotional, for allowing myself to get this close to him. Then again, I’ve never been all that great at denying myself things. Hence the string of corpses littering my past reminding me of what my wilfulness can do.

When the rooms are ready I turn towards Ian’s room, but stop myself and check the suites again. Each of the council members are bringing their seconds-in-command, so I have to make sure that all the rooms are set up to suit everyone.

The room for Wilhelm and Amelia is almost ready when I get there, I just have to stock them up on a few flea-repellent toiletries and they will be fine. I am very tempted to just give Gabriel a blanket in the corner of the sitting room, but think better of it, as well as putting fleas into his bed. As much glee as it would bring to my dark little heart one of us has to act maturely, after all.

Vladimir and Svetlana would bring their own coffins (more theatrical than actually necessary), so the bed in there will need to be moved and the curtains darkened. Vampires have an aversion to sunlight that can be described as more of an allergy, though the way Svetlana acts, you’d swear she was dying. At least Dmitri was easy to ignore, he never had any problems.

Marcus and Sapphira’s suites were fairly easy to do, but I still resented my father’s presence in the castle. With a flick of my hand I dyed the sheets the precise colour Sapphira hates, sometimes I like being childish. Smiling to myself, I shut the door and make the bottle disappear into a dustbin.

Hades will be staying elsewhere for the duration of Ian’s tests, as I refused to have him anywhere near where I reside (if I can help it), in case he tries to kill me, again.

Morgana’s rooms are the last I have to check, seeing as fairies have an aversion to anything processed, so I’ve had to grow the furniture by hand and order other essentials from Etherea. The house doesn’t have to be altered in any way, as it was built directly out of the earth; even the paint on the walls is completely natural. The villa was built essentially for any and all guests, so it has to be able to accommodate everyone.

When everything was up to standard, I flashed to the conference area that also served as the site of Ian’s binding. Raising the individual stone thrones took a little effort, but the last would be mine, so I added a few decorations to it. This was my territory after all.

Sighing, I sit in the newly made throne and think about the next weeks’ events as the waxing moon shines above me. The council would first test him to ascertain his abilities so that when they bind him, so that the spell will keep the most dangerous of them under control until his body fully matures.

Hormones, though mostly a human thing, still affected mages as they were of human descent. The older families, due to having a more filtered bloodline, don’t usually have a lot of problems. But Ian was a First Generation mage, making his more susceptible to those emotions and chemicals that would dictate his every action.

Hence the binding, in a way, would also control his emotions, something most Elementals could not bear. Their powers were dictated by their emotions, and though few could turn those emotions into magical energy, my father’s people could use the stronger emotions to direct their spells. Such as anger, grief, hatred, love, lust…lust is a big one, if you know what I mean.

I was not even remotely human, though I resembled one physically. I did not have the same problem then as Ian does now; mine was an overload of energy from being able to harness so many natural sources. On my eighteenth birthday, I had to be drained. They couldn’t do much about the emotions; it was part of the territory for all Elementals.

The ritual started slowly, but as Marcus pulled the magic from my body, more would take its place. Eventually, all the members of the Council had to converge their powers in order to cut me off from my surroundings. I was effectively placed in a magic bubble with only my father and extreme amounts of pain for company.

After many hours, my magic had been transferred to seven gems that were hidden until I was old enough to pull it back into myself. Though the stones held power, none but a blood relative of mine could harness what was held within.

***

The next morning, I was up bright and early to greet my guests. As ever, I am not exactly thrilled to be awake at the butt crack of dawn just to play nice with people I don’t particularly like. But someone has to watch the gateway, and as I have no servants or form of help, that person would be me.

The first to arrive through the gateway, at dawn precisely, are Wilhelm and Amelia. They look so cute together, holding hands while their attendants follow behind with the luggage. Cue the chew toy convention, I think cynically.

They know the way to their rooms, making my job that much easier. About an hour later, Vladimir and Svetlana arrive in a carriage pulled by a team of six horses. Ever the thespians, I think, as I shake hands with Vladimir before being pulled into a hug with Svetlana.

Grimacing, I turn to the gate once more, ignoring the sullen vampires carrying what seems to be the bulk of Svetlana’s spring wardrobe. Being frozen at the age of twenty may have kept her beautiful to Vladimir, but it also required that his bank accounts got a regular work out.

“I bet he really misses the days before Sveta’s discovery of the Internet,” Dmitri murmurs into my ear, giving me the shock of my life. I quickly turn around and hug him; I haven’t seen him in over two hundred years.

“Dmitri! I almost didn’t see you,” I say, letting go of him. He has sunglasses and a trench coat on, to ward off the sun. For older vampires, the aversion is more of a habit than a necessity. Though younger vampires still burst into flames, but none are here, thankfully. Something in the blood diet made them susceptible to the most acute reaction to UV rays, not that I care.

“That was the point, dear Scarlet,” he says, smiling. I cross my arms in mock frustration, but can’t keep up the act in the presence of my favourite ‘cousin’.

“You never played fair,” I joke, poking him in the chest with a pitch black nail. He just laughs and swats my hand away.

“You never bothered with ‘fairness’,” he retorts, and I smile impishly while tucking a stray curl behind my ear. Just then, a car rolls up the drive, a big, ugly SUV with blacked out windows. I turn towards it, and Dmitri grips my arm in a warning.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Scarlet, flirting with another man,” a voice calls out, echoing in the courtyard. The owner steps out and smirks at me.

“Sapphira,” I hiss as Dmitri walks through the door. A girl of the same height as I walks up the steps and stops just in front of me, the vile expression never leaving her face.

“Now, is that any way to greet your older sister,” she says, pulling off the stupid aviator sunglasses so that the eyes just like my own can bore into my face. I cross my arms and roll my eyes, damn mermaids and their theatrics, the worst of the Elementals.

“So glad you’re here, darling sister, when are you leaving?” I ask, barely hiding my contempt for the strumpet that is my older half-sister. Our eyes and height are the only things that identify us as blood, the rest of her is completely trashy, I mean Elemental.

Her dark blue hair shines in the early morning sun, cut just below her ears. Her smirk ruins the delicate mouth as well as her nose, which never looks good when wrinkled. If it weren’t for the fact that her skin was the same shade as mine, I could have proudly called her an alien and donated her to a zoo.

As our father’s rightful heir, she has the right to attend High Council gatherings, but it does not make her presence any more bearable, as she has tried to kill me more often than any other Immortal. No love lost there, especially not with this siren.

“When your…charge is bound,” she says, glancing at her nails. “So tell me, have you gotten anyone killed recently?” She looks up, sensing she’s struck a nerve. My hands curl into fists, but I just look down, not giving her the satisfaction of actually provoking me.

Quelling the urge to turn her into a beetle, I storm down the steps, sensing Hecate’s arrival. “See you later, little light” she calls out, my nails cut into my palms as I get further away from her. I hate my sister with a passion only Elementals can comprehend; siblings rarely ever get along in our race. The volatile emotions lead to rather tenuous peace, hence why I never have to see her, because she has to try and keep the millions of subjects under control. No mean feat, though I would never praise her, ever.

“Stupid little ice cube,” I mutter darkly, trying to calm myself down by listing off every derogatory name I could think of for her. As the portal opens, I bury my feelings beneath all my other worries and wait patiently for Ian’s mother.

Hecate was always the least theatrical of the Council, always dressing the least ostensibly and arriving in the simplest manner. Though she did have a penchant for large cars, converted by her own hand to use natural materials instead of their human fuel. Of all the Council members, she also had the smallest track record when it came to temper tantrums; it had been almost two thousand years since her last.

The same could not be said for Hades; his last temper tantrum had been only six decades ago. This time, it wasn’t my fault; some president had triggered his sense of injustice and caused Hades to wreak his revenge in taking souls by any means necessary.

Needless to say, he was on his best behaviour, for the moment. Though it was questionable whether he would stay that way for long.

As Hecate was lead to her rooms by Amelda, who had arrived only moments before, I flashed back to my rooms. Morgana could greet herself, I needed alcohol.

***

The next morning dawns, and I groan, having finally succeeded in my quest for a hangover and complete numbness. The headache soon dissipates, but I still feel groggy as I change clothes with a snap of my fingers. Yawning, I sink through my bedroom floor, only to realise the nagging sensation in the back of my mind was the warning that my mother had passed through my tower’s barrier.

“Ah, Scarlet, you’re awake,” she says, turning away from the window, wearing another white dress. I wave my hand at her, heading for my fridge. I pull out some sort of fizzy drink and begin to down it, walking back out to be face to face with Morgana.

The bottle pulls away from my mouth as I stare at her, registering the dark circles under her eyes and the nervous wringing of her hands. Sighing, I slump into a chair by my biggest desk, which is occasionally used as a dining table.

Leaning back, I rest my bare feet on the surface as Morgana sits regally on a chair across from me. I sip half-heartedly at the giant bottle, waiting for her to open her mouth and start lecturing me. Instead she just sighs and stares at me, as if trying to get a hold on whatever it is she wants to say.

After five minutes, I swing my feet down and lean forward on my elbows with the bottle acting as a barrier between us. Her eyes meet mine, and we just stare at each other. Many people doubted she could be my mother because we looked so much alike, I could honestly agree with them.

“Are you going to spit it out now, or are we going to be here all day?” I ask, leaning back and crossing my arms. She sits up, her spine straight as an arrow. I honestly despise my mother when she’s being her queenly self.

“I wanted to know how you stood on the subject of Ian,” she says, her gaze never leaving mine. I mirror her position, but still cross my arms.

“I know he needs to be tested before he can be bound, I know the binding will hurt him and I’m fine with it.”

Her face hardens, and if I didn’t know any better, I’d say she was doing it on purpose, but this was her natural reaction to things she didn’t like, so I just held my own emotions at bay until she revealed her true intentions.

“I felt his anguish a few days ago, and it severely disturbed me,” she says, gripping the table. “Was it a vision?” she searches my face, but I make it blank, knowing exactly what she wants from me.

“Yes, it was. He foresaw my death,” I pause for effect as she loses all semblance of control. Her hands pale even further, and her face looks as if it’s going to crack.

“You were dead? How?” she is almost shaking, a strange sight, Morgana may possibly have emotions until all that calm. My darling mother actually cares, how heart-warming.

“He didn’t see the method, but he did see me laid out in the traditional rites, with a figure leaning over me, almost malicious,” my voice never wavers, and I can feel my face pulling as stiff as hers.

“Did he know who it was?” she’s losing it, Morgana is actually losing it, centuries of control and she loses it all at the thought of my death.

“Tristan,” I bite back the bile rising in my throat at the thought of him. My skin starts to prickle, so I shrug my shoulders, it does not help me now to panic.

“Why did you not inform the Council immediately?” she asks icily. Holding back the feeling of exasperation, I get up and walk to the shelf where I hide my booze.

“You were all due to arrive yesterday, it happened less than twenty four hours before, so I just postponed the news until you could all hear it. Although, that’s ruined now,” I crack open the vodka bottle as its exterior freezes in my hand and down half of it.

“Is that why you stink of alcohol and look as if you’ve been beaten up by a mountain troll?” she jumps out of her chair, clenching her fists.

“No, Morgana, I’ve been drinking this much because the boy I’ve been protecting may be murdered by my ex, who I also killed. Oh, and the most powerful of our kind are going to take away the bulk of his powers, making him vulnerable. But its mostly so I can drown out the emotions of everyone in this place for once.” I glare at her, all the while registering how her usual composure has disappeared, leaving her emotions swirling around her.

I continue drinking as she straightens up, visibly hiding her emotions once more. When she coughs daintily, I turn my gaze back to her, waiting for her to spit it out.

“The rest of the Council needs to be informed of this,” she says, smoothing down her already impeccable dress.

“No shit,” I retort, putting the bottle down. “How about I tell them after dinner tonight, or have you forgotten that Ian is being formally introduced to the High Council as well as the seconds-in-command?” Or First Generation, as we prefer to be known.

“That was my actually intent, Scarlet, I had to ensure that you would be dressed appropriately for tonight’s proceedings, so I had a dress made.” She snaps her elegant fingers and a black dress appears in mid-air, with lots of ruffles and lace, although the bodice was very interesting. I shook my head and made another appear, also black, but form-fitting to show off my figure.

The look of disgust on Morgana’s face as she made her design disappear was one I’d treasure for a lifetime. “Must you behave like a harlot at every occasion? I mean, really,” she looks upwards as if begging the ceiling to give her strength.

“Oh, dear mother, how you warm my heart,” I put my hand against my chest as I retort sarcastically. Her hand moves and lace ruffles appear on my dress, she always has to have the last say, I think to myself, and make the dress disappear back into my closet.

I hadn’t been planning on that particular dress in any case, it was more Sapphira’s style, and mermaids are so fickle when it comes to romance. If a sailor even looked at her, she would immediately fall for him, screw him and then ditch him at the bottom of the ocean. I’d heard it was not uncommon for sirens, but I, at least, have standards. Most of the time.

“I’m going to have to ask you to leave now, Morgana,” I say, walking to the spiral staircase. “I have a lot to do today, you know.”

“I’ve already gotten the caterers around, and there will definitely be servants,” she says, giving me a dark look while lifting her skirts to allow her dainty feet safe passage downwards. I groaned in mock-frustration, I’d been counting on her to do all the hard stuff anyway. As she disappears into the stairwell, I sigh with relief and flash into the middle of Ian’s living room.

Unfortunately, I seem to have walked in on Hecate and Ian during their mother-son bonding time. Hiding my embarrassment, I bow to Hecate, as is only right with your seniors, and straighten to see her return the gesture. Ian is standing with his hands in his pockets, not looking at me.

Sighing, I speak in his mind; I need to speak with you alone. His head whips around and I cringe, he looks like death warmed up.

“M- Hecate, I think I should speak with Scarlet alone…” he says, giving her an apologetic look. She nods and looks to me, but I make my face a mask. She steps through a mage-doorway and we are left alone.

Turning away from him, I admire the new furnishings she’s obviously given him, not sure how to say what I need to. How does one just blurt out, oh you’ve been invited to dinner tonight to be formally introduced to the High Council, and my parents. How does that not sound weird and intimidating in any way possible?

I can feel his eyes on me, so I square my shoulders and say,” There’s a dinner tonight for the High Council, and I’ve been told to invite you formally. It’s at seven, and I’m meant to take you, so be ready by then.” Dropping it, I walk towards the door, but stop when he grabs my wrist. Gritting my teeth, I yank and he lets go, giving me enough time to walk through the door to my rooms and slam it shut.

Relief floods through me, and I flash into my kitchen, blocking out his guilt. Seeing as its only noon, I conjure up cupcakes and walk into my work room, where the fizzy drink from this morning still stands on my desk, as well as the vodka. I move it back to its place before going to the table where my fizzy drink stands and pick it up.

Gripping the fizzy drink and the plate of cupcakes, I flash into my room, only to be confronted by the vile creation Morgana thinks of as a dress blending into the red silk sheets and lace canopy of my bed. Groaning, I put down my food on the dresser and approach it with apprehension.

The more I look at it, the more I am reminded of a wedding dress, and disgust fills my stomach. With a flick of my hand, it disappears the small magical void I made for clothes Morgana has given me over the years. With another flick, I make a dress appear that will really show off my personality.

As I peel wrappers off of cupcakes and take swigs of soda, I think of the events of the day. Who would’ve thought that the Immortal Fairy Queen could actually care about something, let alone love her own child. With the way she’s treated me over the years, I was sure the things she did were more out of obligation than actual caring.

At least there won’t be dancing tonight, or I really will throw up. It’s not that I can’t, it’s just that I don’t want to. Dancing is something I gave up along with the corsets and the crappy music in the twenties, although what people call dancing now is more gyrating to even crappier music.

At about four in the afternoon, I resigned myself to taking a shower in the little used section of my bathroom. Bathing was good for long soaks and mixed up thoughts, but showering was convenient.

As I stepped out, I towelled dry and magically made my underwear appear as I walked into my room. Untying my hair, I let the curls fall where they may as magic tingled throughout my scalp, sending waves of warmth through my hair to dry it and make it look wavy instead of its usual mess.

When my hair looked the way I wanted, I kept an eye on it while another spell put hairpins in at strategic points so that it would fall over my left shoulder. Once that was done, I went into my closet to choose a pair of shoes.

“Too high-“ I throw it behind me, “too low- too ugly- too red- too bright- too dark- ah hah!” holding the shoes in the index and middle fingers of my right hand, I walk to the mirror and put them on. The lace over the bridge of my foot itches, so I snap my fingers to make it better.

Turning, I wink at my reflection and walk to wear I keep the dresses. As I peruse various options, my mind wanders to Ian, until I shake my head and concentrate on the matter at hand. When I locate the right dress, I hold it up and consider what Morgana would say…

“Bugger it all, I’m wearing this,” I mutter and pull it up my legs. Zipping it up magically I go to the back of my closet and open a secret panel with a small amount of energy, something that can never be faked or stolen, as each magic-wielder has their own identifying type. As it slides open and the various chokers, earrings and other jewelled studded things glisten, I open a small drawer and pull out a black box, smiling to myself as I turn around and the panel closes once more.

***

When I knock on the main door of Ian’s chambers, I half expect him not to answer. Backing away, I lean against the balustrade and look out on the slowly darkening courtyard. I can’t help but admire this castle over and over as each sunset makes it more magical than the last.

When the door opens I’m surprised, he actually made an effort to put on a waistcoat and pants that didn’t look as if they’d been through many trials and tribulations. I put my money on Hecate picking them out, though.

He’d combed his hair back and sealed it with gel, reminding me of a time gone by in a country I wished I could forget. His embarrassed smile warmed my heart, until it turned into a slackened jaw as his eyes travelled up and down my body.

Granted, the dress was rather tight around my waist, but it loosened up a little as I reached midway down my thighs and flared out in alternating layers of black lace and scarlet silk. What shocked him the most was probably the ruby necklace also alternating with obsidian stones, it was probably worth about ten times what his childhood home was worth.

I look away, waiting for him to regain his senses, and mostly to hide my own embarrassment at his reaction. He coughs and closes the door, then walks towards me. Smiling, he holds out his arm and I accept it like the lady I was once expected to be. We flash into another courtyard, this time of the villa south of the school. We walk up the steps and I let go of his arm to open the door to the rather impressive entrance hall.

I remembered how I was berated for the checkerboard black and white marble tiles when I first redecorated the house, as well as the comments on having plain white walls and wrought-iron staircases. This house had been one of my many refuges, and I honestly couldn’t have cared less for the opinions of those who questioned me.

I look at him, realising how intimidating it must be for him. Sighing, I pick up my dress once more to lead him to one of the many sitting rooms.

As I grip the door handle, I let go of Ian’s hand, another thought dawning on me. If the Council replaces out…we’re dead. Sighing, I straighten up and brush my hair out of my face, and then I open the door.

With a sweep of my hand, I indicate that he should in front of me, suddenly regretting my choice of attire, until a pair of glowing arms wrap themselves around me. Looking up, I get a face full of Cassy’s hair as well as an overwhelming sense of guilt.

How could I forget about my best friend, once again I am silently berating myself. When she lets go, I can’t help but smile with her, she’s so happy it’s infectious. “I’ve missed you!” she says, looking me up and down while Declan stands a bit back, almost apprehensive.

“I missed you; too, I’m so sorry I wasn’t there to greet you!” I say, hugging her again and reaching for Declan. But he backs away even more to reveal Serena, resplendent in a typical fey dress with long sleeves that trail on the floor.

For the first time, I notice that Cassy is in a mint green ball gown, her favourite colour. The gemstones decorating the bodice and skirt look as if they were thrown over and just happened to land where they did. Someone should really have told Serena that lemon yellow was not her colour, she resembled a surrealistic painting.

I drop my arms, and stare awkwardly at my feet, obviously the odd one out. When I look up again, Serena has led Declan away and Niall has appeared. The Originals rarely have time to just relax and speak openly with one another around their significant others, hence the large guest list. Smiling, I pat Cassy on the arm and walk away, realising that I have not seen Marcus, Sapphira or Morgana yet.

My head hangs low, so I don’t even notice when Dmitri holds out his hand to me, obviously sensing my apprehension. Looking up, I smile at him, glad that someone here actually wants to talk to me. For all of two seconds, we are blessedly alone, until Sapphira’s energy appears behind me.

Dmitri raises an eyebrow, so when I turn around, I’m not really surprised at the indigo dress consisting mostly of one piece of fabric draped around the bare minimum of her body. The two slits up her legs barely leave anything to the imagination. Sadly, I also spot Gabriel across the room, his eyes only on me.

“Please tell me that Marcus is nearby,” I whisper to Dmitri, just as Marcus approaches his other child. After a brief, heated exchange, she disappears in a huff, only to return in another dress, this time covering her from head to foot. Pouting, she stomps away from him, and I turn my back on my blood relations.

Dmitri is the perfect person to spend time around when forced to attend Original social engagements, because he has never wanted me romantically and his snide comments are extremely entertaining. So we spend a good ten minutes making fun of Serena and Sapphira, as well as Svetlana, who resembles the vampire queen she was made to the tee. Though I think the black collar resembling bat wings was a bit much, but that’s just my opinion, Dmitri is not allowed to openly denounce his queen, but I am.

All too soon, I feel Morgana’s hand on my shoulder, dragging me away to decide on some trivial dinner matters. Mostly, she just wants to lecture me about the dress, so I set myself up for another unpleasant lecture. Instead, I get the surprise of my life.

“You are dressed perfectly,” she says, looking me up and down, and then giving me her seal of approval, in other words, a glowing smile. Crossing my arms, I take in the typical white dress draped in the style she’s loved since Ancient Greece. But I make no comment and pretend to take an interest in the choice of wines and whatever else.

When we sit down, I finally notice Hades’ presence, but he seems to only be interested in Ian. The seating plan was all Morgana’s idea, putting me at the head of the table and Marcus at the end, along with my vile sibling.

Ian is near the middle, with Hecate on one side and Wilhelm on the other. Hades is across from him, appearing fascinated by a glass of wine. As I stand up to formally welcome them, I feel a strange pull on my chest, causing me to stumble.

Morgana, on my left, catches my elbow, worry all over her face. But I shake her off, “Tripped on the hem, nothing to worry about.” She looks at me questioningly, but drops the subject. Raising my glass, I tap it with my knife and wait for silence; I’ve done this so many times that I could probably do this while severely intoxicated or asleep.

Once the room is quiet enough, I set down the glass and clear my throat. “Well, now that we’ve all been polite and well-behaved, I think it’s high time for some drinking-“a cheer erupts at this, “and some eating, let’s begin!” I sit down, avoiding the stares of both Ian and Gabriel. Morgana pats me on the arm, but I look down, waiting for one of the servants to bring me the soup she ordered.

When it’s finally time for dessert (eight course meals should not be recommended at any interval), most of my guests are sufficiently inebriated enough for me to escape their company. Gripping my dress in one hand, I stand up and walk out onto the balcony that enwraps the first floor.

Breathing deeply, I walk to the far end, hoping to have a few moments alone before having to spend more time around my ‘family’. With a sigh, I lean against the railing and take in the view which, even in the moonlight, highlights the trees and plants most beautifully.

For about a minute, I’m all alone, until I feel Ian approaching. Stoically, I hold my position and refuse to turn around. He coughs politely, and I can almost feel the awkwardness radiating from him.

“What do you want, Ian?” I ask, turning around and straightening a small fold in my dress. His eyes, once again, are filled with appreciation, but all I feel is disappointment, in him, in myself.

“You looked so…miserable at dinner, I was worried,” he coughs again and looks away. Staring at him, I am dumbfounded, he is surrounded by his newfound family, something he’s always wanted, and yet he’s here, talking to me.

“It’s stuffy in there, alright?” I turn around, waiting for him to leave me be. Instead, he leans his elbows on the railing and stares out over the landscape. Sighing, I surrender myself to another barrage of questions he’s probably going to want answers to.

Instead, an easy silence descends, almost making up for all the excitement of the day. Eventually, though, I realise that I should be getting back, so I push away from the railing and turn to leave. But he catches my wrist and forces me to turn around, I fight the urge to break his hand and stomp off regally, he might have something worth hearing to say.

“You…um…that dress…it suits you,” he finishes lamely, yet those words (coming from him) warm my heart. He seems so embarrassed, another expression that suits him. I pull my wrist from his grasp, and his face falls for the few seconds it takes for me to reach behind his neck and pull his face closer to mine.

“Thank you,” I whisper, and kiss him lightly on the mouth before walking away. I can feel his boring into my back, but I keep my head low until I reach the glass doors to the dining room. Even then, I refuse to look back.

Once the pleasantries are over, the High Council moves to the amphitheatre I made for the first meeting. Sitting back on my throne, I contemplate changing clothes, but a warning thought from Morgana stops me. Damn my parents and their meddlesome habits to the deepest pits of hell.

Once again, Hades sits as far from me as he can get, with Vladimir and Wilhelm on either side. Marcus has not yet arrived, but Morgana has seated herself regally in the throne next to Hecate’s. Sighing, I sink further into my seat; this was going to be a long night.

***

When I wake up the next morning, I think back to the past few months. His impatience at everything, except for me. His tolerance for everything I tell him, how calmly he accepts the fact that I loved Gabriel. He’s so…different, and yet, so much like me.

And the constant stream of questions, always wanting to know about my life, my parents, and his mother. He has the endless curiosity of a toddler, and the memory of an elephant.

Hopefully he won’t lose that when he is bound, the initial shock usually tampers with the emotions of the subject, something I am overly familiar with.

It was decided, near midnight, that Hecate would lead the first test, as Ian was definitely a mage. If he, at the end of twelve hours, still hadn’t reached his limit, we would continue until he did.

The second test would be up to Morgana, to ascertain how many of the ‘gifts’ of the Seers he had received. I was dreading that one, the methods could be extremely painful, as well as the magic itself.

The rest had to wait, as both tests had to go on until there was no magic in him, not that we had to rush it, there were still two weeks left after all. I didn’t know why, but this scared me the most. None of us were sure if he could survive this, I was the only test subject they had before him.

I hope he can forgive me for what is to come.