The Mermaid Who Cried Wolf

Chapter 11: The Princess

Lavenders skin was smooth as marble. Her eyes, unlike the rest of her kind lacked the blood red hue and was more a rose bud, with glints of dew. Her thoughts dwelled on the flower fields that glistened in the daylight where if she went into the light, the rays would blind her. 

So instead she would sneak out in the dead of night at a full moon to gaze at the eerie flowers, misted by the silver moon.

Like most, when she was younger, she thought that the moon gave off its own light, the mystical shine that cast shadows over her bed, she knew now that it was merely the suns rays reflecting across the moons surface.

Tears, little, shining drops drew silver rivers over her pale cheeks. Her hair, a deep, golden bunch of locks was strung over her face. She had just been told of her fathers murder.

The murder of her father, the murderer.

She knew her fathers plan, to enrage the wolves by killing one of their dearests. 

It was his death.

Lavender could not decide if she was sad, happy or angry. Lavender was not as macabre or gruesome as her father and brother. Her mother had been killed by Elchs because of a rebellion. 

That was 800 years ago. 

In the corner of her room was a silver helmet with a bright plume ontop. She was expected to fight in the war against the wolves, but she could not bring herself to believe that she could. 

Lavender had lived for 500 years believing that she was dead, but then, in the Enchantress rebellion, she killed.

Then did she truly knew what it meant to be dead.

To walk over the still bodies, their unseeing eyes gazing at the stars overhead as they reflected into the whites. The blood soaking their robes hands open, as if reaching out.

No, she wasn't dead.

The tears came faster, in steadier flows as the memories flooded back into her head.

They blended into the flowers in the meadow, the sea, her father, wolves and blood, blood clouding her mind, feeding her lies... the hunger... the fury.

She lifted one perfect finger and traced the delicate outline of her ruby red lips. Behind lay pearly white fangs... sharp and deadly.

A vampire needed no weapons, just one bite...

She was the Princess of Alz Jikalm, the Vampire City of Europe. Tomorrow she would leave her home for the Americas. Hawaii.

Either to fight or to kill.

Pearl screamed. She cried. Her sobs choked in her throat. "No, no, no, no." She kept repeating.

Emily didn't deserve this. She deserved a happy life with love and care to live... to live...

Stanley was still ripping up the pieces of the demon, tearing it. Letting out the sadness and the anger he had been holding in ever since his father had died.

But inside his chest, curled up, clawing at his mind like a rat he knew that his sister was dead, and no matter how many times her tore at the beast, nothing could bring his sister back.

Never.

"AAAARRRGGGHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" Stanley out a roar threw the head of the Vampire King out of the open window where he had crept in. In the distance, a splash signalled that it had landed in the ocean.

Tears streamed down his cheeks and he turned.

Her body.

Her arms, tanned and smooth lay stretched out, hands open as if preparing to leap into his arms.

From her head hung silky hair, drapped in locks. Her eyes were closed, decorated with long lashes, her face held the ghost of a smile that never existed, her lips were cracked and face worried, too old for a child so young.

Pearl looked up at Stanley. "In the Mergetyi Soé, honoured souls who served their lifes purpose would dwindle in the spirit of the ocean, and be content with the roll of the waves and the distant singing of the sea, this is where Emily will be." 

Stanley nodded, listening to Pearls words. So easy, so quick she had been gone from his life. 

"I didn't even say sorry." He whispered over her body.

Pearl looked at him, her face held an auara of a sad wisdom. "You didn't need to, she always knew you were." 

And they cried together.

Millions of miles away, the Princess cried too, her decision made.

Tomorrow, blood would be shed.