Perhaps this was the worst idea Dean had had in seven hundred years. He honestly would have had better luck if she were a Vampyr or a mere human prisoner he'd gut within a few hours. In fact, he'd had more success with the rogue Ytgir his sister gave him on his five hundredth. He found Alke and Afet bickering quietly before Rose's door, the twin's clipping at each other in hushed whispers, gesturing to the door.
"Is something wrong?" they bowed at his voice. He'd never get used to the bowing, he had no idea how his predecessors groveled in the reveling and blind loyalty. But then again, it was all an act, half his predecessors got slaughtered in brutal squabbles over the Flesh eater throne. The bone throne. Most of which occurred because the current Flesh eater king did not partake in the rites as instructed of the High Arches. He didn't intend to fall into that category of disobedience, but marrying was a silly mortal thing. Unnecessary for creatures of the undead.
"I think she's dead, your grace," Alke said.
"She can't be dead Alke," Afet shot back.
"She hasn't moved for three days!"
Dean glanced at the door. "Three days?"
Afet grimaced, her grey skin turning a bolder shade of grey. The twin's had a unique ability to change colour when they feel threatened or strange. Dark grey for disgust or hunger (it was hard to tell which one was which sometimes) a paler stormy grey for fatigue and a sickly, bland grey for unease.
"She smells like she's going off."
Afet nodded. "She smells like she's dying."
"Shit," Dean swept past them quickly and lunged himself over the door, throwing it open and nearly breaking it at the hinges. "Rosalie—"
The girl whipped her head around, her eyes widening, mouth agape. Stood in the middle of the room stark naked, Rose began screaming. Panicked, frightened screams. "Get out! Get out you fucking creep!" she grabbed a couple trinkets from the table and hurled them at him. Grabbed a rotten orange and threw that too.
Even her shoe. It slapped him right across the face.
Seeing her lift her arm to hurl another object at him, Dean ran out and slammed the door shut. Noises and curses flying within the room, his name caught in between. Dumb fuck, pervert. Mother's tits she had a good aim, his forehead bruised for a moment and then vanished as it healed.
Alke and Afet giggled.
"Don't tell Thalia about this."
"Of course your grace," they sniggered.
He straightened the lapels of his jacket.
Rose's door flew open, and an angry looking red head stood with bright tomato cheeks, with a crude snarl and venom in her eyes. She had changed into a white tunic and pants, swept her wet hair into a tight coil atop her head.
Was she tapping her damn foot?
"Has anyone ever told you that you should knock before you enter a woman's room? Clearly not!" and the door slammed again, reverberating against the walls.
Dean stood there stunned for what felt like centuries. The image of her angry, flushed face skimming across his mind like dancing girls.
Afet leaned in, "I think you should knock this time your grace."
He gave her a stern, pointed look, as he lifted his hand. Three skull shattering strikes that rasped along the wall. He heard an exasperated sigh, followed by a, "Come in."
He poked his head through the door to make sure no objects were in her hands before slipping in and closing it. She faced him with hands on her hips, still frowning with anger, but when she looked at him, really looked at him, she dropped her hands. Her face twisting into partial shock and partial embarrassment, and her thoughts, those delicate things, began screaming at him.
Who the hell is this man? No, it can't be. Is that really what he looks? He's...so beautiful. Are those wings tucked behind him. Oh my god. They went on, a reel of thoughts. She went through every single feature, his exquisite jawline, the shimmer and glow of his pasty, dead skin. Ethereal she called him. From his face to the unnerving set of his red orbs that looked like they 'could devour the world whole' and his cropped brown hair, light like feathers.
His lips tugged into a smile and his smile alone set her off. He could smell her arousal and embarrassment from here, it was sweet and heavy.
"You have a face. What happened, did you lose your shadows on the way here?" she said, trying to mask how affected she was by him.
His smile didn't falter. "I forgot to wear them today."
"I didn't know Vampyrs had humour. That was a terrible joke, by the way."
"I heard humour elevates stress."
She folded her arms again. "And what makes you think I'm stressed."
He took her in, eyes raking her from head to toe. He hadn't truly looked at her, hadn't really seen what the caves had done to her. Her eyes were haggard, bruised. The amber in them did not burn any brighter. Such strange eyes for a human. It was like she had lost the light she once had. Her clothes sagged, hanging loose on bony hips. She'd lost so much weight.
"You have a vein popping on your forehead—"
"Fuck you," she rolled her eyes.
"I'm sorry for—" he gestured to the door. Struggling to find the words. "I just—Alke and Afet said you smelt like you were rotting."
She grimaced. "It's called funk and it's what happens when one doesn't bathe."
"I see," he clasped his hands behind his back, his coat folding. He had a meeting with Astaroth at Aerogmoth in half an hour. For some reason, a part of him wanted to stay, because this short, red haired girl looked so unbelievably sad, and he wanted to know why.
"You missed your lesson with Meredith."
"Oh god. I'm so sorry," she said quietly. "I lost track of time. It's hard to figure out what time it is when it's always dark."
"How do you mortals track time?"
"A clock. The sun. When the sun sets it's the end of the day and the clocks and watches tell you the time."
He'd never heard of a clock, the sun was a nuisance. He preferred the dark, he preferred Hel, but he always wondered what it felt like to live like mortals do. "Can I see?"
"See what?"
"The sun."
She frowned and then realised what he was asking. Her face softened a fraction, a notable sigh of relief forming around her chapped lips. He asked this time, he could, by all means, enter in without her permission and take what he wanted. It was like a madhouse, the first time he went in, there was so much grief contained in her heart and mind that it felt like he was drowning in something that wasn't even his. There was always grief in her, an endless well of nothing. Flesh eaters were the only bloodline to have such gifts. Telekinesis, telepathy and shape shifting. He had broken minds with a back handed thought, he'd rendered powerful Vampyrs utterly helpless. He was the most powerful lord to have existed in centuries. He could do what he wanted; fuck her, kill her, torture her, gift her to another lord.
But the tears she had shed when he did it...
So he asked this time.
"Can all Vampyrs do it? See into someone's mind?"
"Only Flesh eaters."
She pursed her lips, thinking. "Can you be gentle? It hurt like an ass last time."
He nodded. So she nodded too. He opened himself up, took those invisible hands and pushed into her mind. She gasped, and he slowed, entering gently and calmy. Not forcing himself in. She relaxed a fraction and her mind, a giant wall of her opened up to him and he stepped over the threshold of her.
The image was bright. Colourful. He was seeing the world through her eyes, he was sat somewhere where rolling green grass stretched for miles. It was late summer, the grass moving in steady waves, those long heads of greed seed as calming as harbor waves. Their hues bright yet unique, it did not feel real. And while they danced in that way, the song of crickets and the chirps of birds chimed close by. The gentle rays of sun were warm, kissing Rose's skin as he looked through her own eyes. After a while, an arm slid around Rose's waist, and when she turned, Dean was half surprised to see Cato. The bastard told Jairus she was not his claiming, but she was. "Have I told you how beautiful you are?"
Rose's smile was bright. It was like she was the sun and the sun a mere lamp. "No," she grinned, "tell me again."
"You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen," he kissed her shoulder.
"If I'm beautiful what are you?"
Cato smirked, placed another kiss on her shoulder.
"There you are!" came a voice. A tattooed girl jogged up to the pair, a ring on her lip, three piercings on her nose and god knows how many on her ears. She flopped down at Cato's feet and hugged his leg. "They're trying to kill me, guys."
"I told you Josh's family are competitive, but you didn't believe me."
Below the hill, a brown-haired boy was playing cricket with his family.
"It was kind of his mum to invite us down to their holiday home but god, Josh takes defeat way too seriously." Correction, Josh's mother invited Ryan and Rose. Cato had planned a weekend away with Rose and she felt bad for being put in a difficult position, so Josh suggested (with much disdain) that Cato join.
"There's a café round the corner, you girls hungry? We can escape for a couple hours."
The tattooed girl shot up. "Fuck yeah."
Cato smirked and ushered them up quickly, clasping both girls by the hands and tugged them down the hill. They were all giggling, Rose's blush pink dress flaring in the wind, her smile brighter than anything Dean had ever seen. The tattooed girl howled her excitement into the sky, Cato echoing it. Rose said something to the tattooed girl: Ryan, stop running so fast.
It felt like a violation to see these images. And he had seen enough.
He pulled himself out of her mind.
"Ryan," Rose breathed. Relief flooded her. "I haven't been able to remember her name for months."
"Your world is so bright."
"Yours is so bleak."
Looking around now, Hel was bleak. Bleak and dark and horrific. It was not like the bright light he saw in that memory, the green, the budding blue hanging overhead, the marshmallow clouds that drifted across the sky. Rose was not meant for this world, she was stolen. Flowers don't thrive in dark places. "I'll try and make it brighter for you," he said.
She held his stare, and it was like fire. He could have sworn he saw a spark in her eyes. That stare, it burned. Burned with cold fury, hope, curiosity. It might have made him breathless, it might have knocked him down. Never, never has he been looked at like that. With such animosity and curiosity and lust. His senses heightened and his manhood—
Twitch.
Her eyes flicked between his legs, saw the bulge that sat there. She didn't smile but she was amused. And what she said—no thought caught him off guard.
"You should go and tend to yourself before you get blue balls."
His mouth parted, and Rose raised her eyebrows.
He cleared his throat. "Don't start something you can't finish."
"I'm pretty sure I can finish you just fine."
Irritated and unbelievably horny, Dean snapped his fingers and a plate appeared in his hand. "Here, you haven't eaten all day."
She took the plate gingerly. "Is this a burger?"
"Is that what you call it?"
"Ryan called it a cow patty," she crouched down and crossed her legs. One foot on the other leg.
"What are you doing?"
"What?"
"That—with your legs."
"A lotus position?"
He hadn't realised he was pulling a face. "I beg your pardon?"
He could have sworn that her mouth almost curved into a smile, but it did not ripen into one, she just shook her head and began eating the burger quietly. Lotus position. Dean sighed and walked across the room and sat down in front of her. She watched beneath lowered lashes and between bites as he pulled his legs into him and mimicked her position.
"This is very uncomfortable," he frowned. "Why would you sit like this."
She was nearly done with the burger when she raised her eyebrow in exasperation. "It's because you have long legs, it's harder for people who are tall. Especially people who are pushing six foot seven." His wings ruffled a little bit, but he tucked them in tight to his back.
"You fascinate me."
She pushed the plate away. "I fasciate you?"
"You humans are strange creatures. The way you think and talk and experiences things. Vampyrs can't feel things you can."
Sadness washed over her face again, he scented a pang of pain. It was heavy and musky. "Cato told me you don't feel love."
So Cato made her fall in love and then stole her. Dean slowly nodded, watching her with a steely gaze. "Or empathy, compassion. We can mimic such things but do not feel them. I'd like to know more about your humanity, since there is none in me."
"Makes you a perfect Vampyr doesn't it," she said dryly. "No humanity means you can do whatever the hell you want and not feel a damn thing. Do you even know how many lives you've ruined, how many mortals you've destroyed purely for your sadistic satisfaction? I bet you've lost count. And now I'm what? A guinea pig for your deep curiosity? As soon as your done with me, you'll probably slaughter me beneath the castle since that's where all the screaming seems to be coming from. I'm just going to die anyway."
His wings rustled again. "Isn't that what you want?" he'd heard it in her mind enough times now to know that was perhaps what she wanted, death. She had been waiting for months, thinking the caves will do it for her.
Her shoulders slumped, her entire body looked as though it had gotten heavier. "I don't want to die, I just need a reason to live." her voice was shaky and quiet, like every word singed her throat. "Thank you for the food. I'd like to be alone now."
He thought to object, he thought to ask her to...gods ask her to what? He had a bloody meeting to go to and he couldn't take her. But leaving her with those memories, that grief, leaving her alone, didn't feel like the wisest. He didn't understand her sadness and a part of him wanted to.
Dean got up and walked away, he found Alke and Afet still waiting outside trying to look like they haven't been listening at all. When he looked over his shoulder, he caught her looking at her bed and swaying on her feet. Battling something within her. The urge to get up and try and survive or to let herself free fall. Eventually, that other monster in her got the better of her and she crawled back into bed but didn't cover herself. She lay there with her back to him.
"Dinner is in two hours. I'm going for a meeting with another lord, I should be back by then."
"Have fun," she deadpanned.
He left without another word.
A reason to live. A reason to keep going, to keep fighting. He thought of the little red-haired girl getting dragged by her hair and thrown out into the rain. The little girl who yearned for her parents, who cried herself to sleep in that tent. A reason to live. Alke and Afet were right, she was rotting.