Chapter 11 – After Sun Rose, the Night Came
…I'm so tired, there has got to be an end
to the pain I feel.
When I'm awake and alive alive alive,
Alive and I'm dreamin',
Caught up against the wall again,
Tied my chain to the ball again,
Is that a light at the end of the tunnel
That I see I see?
Please let it be, but don't
wake me till the morning after…
-The Morning After - by Dead by Sunrise
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There was a knock on the thick wooden door, not long after Drusilla retired from a party, followed by another, urgent one, when nobody answered it right away.
Drusilla nodded to one of her servants, who bowed and quickly scurried to check who requested an entrance so vehemently, while the other servant girl helped her put on the thick night cloak. Drusilla sat down near the fireplace, prepared to receive the visitor appropriately, when he was announced.
‘’His Grace Lord O’Connor, mistress.’’
Lady Bathory nodded, and the man was permitted to come into her bed chamber.
Lord bowed low once he came before her, and then closed the distance between them by stepping few steps closer to lift her hand and kiss it. The mischievous glint in his eyes, when he looked up at her, sent shivers of delight up her spine.
‘’Leave us.’’ Drusilla commanded with her quiet voice, not paying any attention anymore to the servant girls that bowed and left the room immediately. Her eyes were riveted to the man in front of her.
Once the doors clicked closed, Angelus smirked and kneeled before her on both knees. Drusilla inclined forward and raked her fingers through his long black hair, loosening them from its binding. ‘’These are hardly in fashion, my sweet.’’ She commented dreamily, while combing his locks with her long fingers, watching the contrast between her pale skin and the dark hue of his hair. ‘’No man on Court has such long hair as you do… Have you seen the Husband of my sister? His hair is shorter…’’
A twinge of annoyance tugged at his insides, before Angelus stretched his lips wide into a smile once more. ‘’His hair is also gray, my princess. Whatever would possess you to look his way, mo ghrá? Am I, a humble man at your service, not enough?’’ he asked huskily, his smirk in place as he watched her, while his hands slowly glided along her legs, up her thighs, bunching the dress along as they went under the hem, until they stopped at her moist entrance. He felt her shiver.
Drusilla blinked slowly at him, parting her thighs in invite. Her hands slipped away from his hair to his shoulders, pulling his coat down in the process, which got caught at the elbows. She slid her palms further down along his arms where they disappeared under the fabric of her night gown. She held the dress hem delicately and slowly pulled it up, revealing her long pale legs to him, revealing also the sight of his fingers touching her nub, slowly rubbing it in circles…
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‘’I’ve news to tell you, mo ghrá.'' Angelus gasped out sometime later that night.
He and Drusilla were lying in the massive bed, still breathing hard, their glistening bodies entwined and quivering from the orgasm they’ve both just had. The sound of fire crackling served as the soft background noise.
The dark haired woman that was lying on his chest, looked up to his face, hers illuminated with the orange light from the still alive fire. Drusilla’s eyes were big and round, and completely child-like in their innocent appearance. His cock was still inside her, now starting to soften. ‘’I knew there was something you wished to tell me, pet. You looked impatient when you came into my chamber… What is it?’’
‘’Well… ‘’ Angelus started slowly, carefully crafting the words in his mind, wanting to savor every one of them, for he knew they would make her happy. ‘’I spoke with His Majesty tonight.’’
Drusilla raised her head from his shoulder, so she could see him better. ‘’About what matter?’’ she cocked her head to the side a bit as she contemplated him. A lock of her hair fell to cover her eye, and Angelus gently tucked it behind her ear. He’d released the numeral pins from her hair earlier, while she tugged the strings of her gown free, loving their silky texture.
‘’I saw him receive a letter from Lord Rayne tonight as we danced. Senior Lord Rayne,’’ he added at her confused look, while he petted her hair. ‘’So, needless to say, I got a bit curious. We both know he and his wife visited briefly their oldest son who lives in Sunnydale.’’ resentment tinged the tone of his voice at the mention of the other Lord, but he quickly hid it away. No need for the past to agitate him. ‘’Lord William Rayne. Your close-by neighbor, he is. Isn’t that right, my sweet?’’
‘’Ah, but I haven’t seen young Willy for a long time.’’ Drusilla propped her chin on the backs of her hands that were resting on his chest, clasped together, her eyes drifting to the far wall of the chamber. She had that faraway look about her as she remembered, no doubt, of the fore mentioned man. ‘’Always sweet young Willy was, obeying his mummy and daddy, like a good boy that he’s always been. Do you know,’’ she suddenly lifted her head from its previous position, to look eagerly at her lover. ‘’Is he still a good boy now? Or is he a bad pupp-‘’
‘’Hardly the point here, is it now, Dru?’’ Angelus interrupted her through tightly clenched teeth. The grip he had on her hair tightened slightly. ‘’The point, however, is, that the King got a letter from him, informing His Majesty of a success in capturing the murderer who was spreading his killings throughout the land like a plague. I’d be mightily furious, that there was yet another thing that Willy made well in the eyes of the King, but, well…’’ he chuckled mirthlessly. ‘’This very situation hardly makes me mad.’’
Drusilla sat up, still on top of him, and clapped her hands together, overjoyed, and bouncing lightly. She could feel his manhood stir inside her at that. ‘’You did it, my darling! You tucked away the wicked bird, which almost pecked at our eyes.’’
Angelus sat up too, holding her by the forearms and bringing her closer to his chest, her still clasped hands trapped in between them. Her eyes shone, just like the evil light was lit up in the pits of her black pools. ‘’Yes. I did it all for you, lover. Now we needn’t worry anymore. She shall be soon erased from this earth - all in your pleasure… ‘’ Angelus kissed languidly her shoulder as he spoke. ‘’Her lips will be sealed forever. And even if she spoke, who would ever believe the one already damned to die?’’
Drusilla hungrily latched her lips to his in a ferocious kiss. She bit his lip so hard it bled, coloring both of theirs in glistening crimson.
Once they parted for air, Angelus smiled viciously. ‘’Tomorrow, you shall retire to one of your closest estates,’’ he thrust his hard member deeper into her then, making her gasp. ‘’… and I shall follow…’’ then he bent forward with her on his lap, pulling her down to the bed on her back with him on top.
She allowed him to be this commanding of her, allowing him to think of her so gullible. For this time at least, she liked him that way. All danger and force in a neat form, made her all tingly inside, it did. She curled around him, serpent-like, quivering with the excitement once more, as his words of beautiful red art that awaited them both soon, accompanied her to another climax…
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Lady Drusilla Bathory excused herself from Court next morning, and announced by her servants, that the countryside air would do her good in lifting the sudden illness she felt. Fortunately, some of the attendants of the last night’s festivity noticed her speaking with the estranged sister, and caught a word or two mentioning Faith. Naturally so, they imagined that the true nature of her leaving the Court so soon was her inability to get back her daughter. They all assumed she left the Court to sulk, and none was too suspicious as to why she pleaded to the King only once and stayed for only two days.
In the late afternoon her carriage arrived to one of her many estates near the London, just as it was planned.
Come the evening, arrived her lover, Lord Angelus O’Connor, who was also bearing the news of the delighted King, who spread the word throughout his kingdom this morning, announcing, that the capture of the murderer from Sunnydale area finally occurred.
News sent shivers of delight up their spines. Angelus naturally hadn’t elaborated the fact, that as soon as the matters of the murderer were finished, his rival, Lord William Rayne, would be gifted with higher titles and other pleasantries, as went the King’s announcement further on.
When the night came, they celebrated.
And killed.
A trusted servant was sent to dispose the bodies for nature to take care of them… only, the thrilled couple hadn’t known that the dirt was already too hard to bury them all, so the servant merely left the bloodied bodies in the woods, too afraid of the howling sounds that were nearing… the winter was rapidly approaching and the creatures of the forest were hungry.
The anxious servant prayed, as he ran back all the way to the mansion, that wolves would clean the mess for him…
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Back in Sunnydale, things turned slightly better for Buffy, for a second day in the row.
More hay had been added to her cell yesterday morning, the food was better – a lot better - and Buffy got the chance to speak with the shy servant by name Tara today as well. When she saw her yesterday, Buffy knew that she was the one who brought her a blanket the other night, only to leave then as soon as she did what she was sent out to do. But this time she stayed longer, and talked to her. Buffy was elated by the company, and she liked gentle Tara very much. Tara had told her that only she had been allowed to come down here now, and somehow make Buffy’s stay more comfortable, as her master bit her to do so, only without making it seem so obvious.
Before Lord Rayne clears her name, Buffy should show absolutely no sign of favoritism.
Buffy noticed that the other blonde woman hadn’t minded keeping her company at all. They talked amicably, while they both settled the now copious amount of straw on her ‘bed-floor’.
The straw was itchy, but Tara, Buffy and Andrew shared a secret of the blanket, which would help to cover the sensitive skin of the young captive. And moreover, more hay only dulled the coldness of the stone that managed to seep through the straws laid on floor before.
The meal was better too, and hotter than what she used to get. The fluid warmed her up from inside immediately, even as it burned her throat, and Buffy had only few seconds to appreciate the better taste of it, before she drank almost everything in big gulps the first time she got it.
Tara had to slow her down, reminding her that Buffy’s stomach would not appreciate the unintentional torture. The young woman listened to the advice of the other, slightly older than she, and left the rest of the soup to cool down, before she’d drank it all.
Tara left then, reminding her that her master always holds his word.
Somewhat put at ease at those words, Buffy sat back down on the hay, and watched the bowl, soon being mesmerized by the slim pillar of smoke rising from it into the air, making the cellar smell deliciously good for once.
Lord William Rayne hadn’t visited her that day, or the next even, nor did young Andrew or any of the guards that were usually there like silent sentinels.
Only Tara was her constant companion for a few short hours, before she was needed elsewhere. Which happened quite often, leaving Buffy again to herself.
Even if she was happy to know that Lord William trusted her enough as in not having her being watched all the time now, she wasn’t quite sure if she welcomed the silence and loneliness.
Buffy was happy to see Tara return later this day with a dinner for her, this time smoked fish and a bread to go with it. The kind woman explained it to her that it was best for her, if she started eating properly again, to go slow at first and with a lighter food, so as not to disturb her stomach.
Buffy hadn’t minded. It smelled delicious. And wheat bread? Tasted so good…
When Tara left again, taking the empty plates with her and leaving fresh cup of water to her, Buffy guessed the time was around noon or one in the evening. She was already served two courses of food and her stomach felt painfully full by now. She hadn’t had that much in her belly before she was imprisoned.
A slight chill swept around the dungeon, so she sat down in the hay, and wrapped the blanket around her.
Buffy had a lot of time on her hands now to think things through. Lord Rayne mentioned that he’d need her help in discovering the real murderer in the future, however Buffy doubted that she, but a poor woman and a loner, would have much to say about people, given to the fact that her Mother and she lived secluded, away from it all.
She had ever only known what her Mother taught her, and that was quite simple: people of her lower rank were poor and upper classmen strange.
Very strange. Even frighteningly so…
Buffy sat up straighter at that thought, tightening the blanket around herself more, to guard out the sudden chill that came, this time from inside of her being.
She had something to tell. Of course she had, only, if she did… how many chances were, that the Lord of this castle would laugh at her and call her delusional? Or even worse. Call her a liar and then leave her to the horrible fate of torture and death for it?
And, even if he believed her… only to be unsuccessful in the matter… the truth would cause her death.
And not even by him.
She had no real memory of the horrors that happened that night. It was too much…, of everything. Only through dreams, it seemed, the crumbs of memories came back to her. The only thing that seemed clear to Buffy, however, was the morning before it all started.
She remembered that strange rider, hooded in black, with a low, raspy, and unrecognizable voice. She had no doubt now that he was hiding from her.
She remembered the conversation they’ve had, and her indecisive thoughts about him…
‘’You shall keep your cottage, I’m sure your new mistress will see to it. But only if you come, and work for her for a few months… I promise you, that the cottage shall be taken care of properly in your absence, to await your return all sturdy-like…’’
His voice was too growly for her liking, like it was intentionally done so, to disguise his true voice. Buffy watched at the strange black clad rider wearily, but at the same time his words flooded through her in such a relief… she could be saved. She could keep her home, where she had such happy childhood with her beloved Mother…
But then, a problem shaded over her brief hope.
‘’I-I do not know how to work for such a noble woman, I have never served... t-to anyone.’’ She glanced down at her ripped shoes in despair. Surely, the lack of knowledge would deter his generosity away, and she’d stay here... hungry, and waiting the cold winter that she was not sure she’d survive this time.
‘’Not to worry, little girl, all can be taught. There are a lot of new girls already there, ready to learn and serve.’’ He looked her over, inclining his hooded head in questioning manner, as she recognized, then he spoke again. ‘’Now, then. Do I have your consent? Are you ready to earn some money we both know you desperately need?’’ He pointed at her little old and not so sturdy home with his hand. ‘’It shall help you to rebuild…’’
She had decided then.
Buffy rode behind him on his horse, her arms wrapped tightly around his middle like he instructed her, trying not to fall off in what it seemed like a mad race to the castle of which he spoke of earlier.
She thought wryly how she came to be like this. Sitting behind a stranger, trusting him to lead her to the salvation… and she wondered even if this was appropriate. Buffy was at a loss as soon as he offered her his hand to pull her up on his horse. How was she to behave in situation like that? Refuse? Demand her own horse? She had none, and the thought that someone would lend her one sounded ridiculous as soon as she thought it.
Moreover, had it really mattered in the end, what course of etiquette she should follow in situation like this, when the only hope she saw was the seat at the back of this man, of whom she hadn’t known for all of few minutes? Buffy decided, and opted for survival.
How much she had to loose, anyway?
If she only knew of the ramifications her decision just then would cause, she’d jump off that horse even in full knowledge that the fall would have broken her neck.
They had ridden in complete silence for quite awhile, though the sun had told Buffy it was not yet time for supper. Her mind grew dazed at the thought of the oncoming proper meal. Her stomach gurgled at the thought, but even in her embarrassment, the sound went unnoticed by the rider in front of her, the loud thumping of the hooves had apparently drowned it out.
She tightened the hold on his tunic. There was a castle looming above the trees and she would have missed the sight of it in the darkening light of the fading sun, if the last rays of the reddish illumination hadn’t decided to linger on the massive stone structure a bit longer, before disappearing for the day.
Buffy woke up with a start. The scent of hay momentarily confused her of her whereabouts, for a few heavy-hearted moments she was sure she was still in her old cottage and that the dream was only foreboding…
Then she remembered foggily the things that played out in her dreams, then the cold place surrounding her now, and then finally the promise of Lord Rayne…, the whole situation was causing her to shiver in fright.
Even his promises left her feel uneasy, at the same time as her heart sang merrily in freedom to come.
Such promises were hard to keep.
The thought immediately sobered her up. She only hoped this particular one was not too hard.
She closed her eyes briefly, but the faceless monsters from the dream haunted her behind closed eyelids, so she quickly opened them back again. They remained there, cloaked figures now hidden behind gilded masks on their faces, closing in on her, prowling…
It was time she really wakes up, Buffy thought, shaking her head to dispel the horror-filling images from her mind.
She slowly stirred in her make-shift bed. When did she fall asleep anyway? Was it morning now already? Buffy blinked a couple of times, and uncurled from her defensive position on the hay-laden floor. Those unfortunate dream-like memories were still fresh in her mind, and as such were not a good sign.
Then again, things could hardly get worse…no, she quickly repressed that thought down. It was not good thinking about gloomy future her life almost had ahead, still had actually. Lord hadn’t cleared her name yet, though, as she thought it, he seemed kind of... determined-like. In a always-getting-his-way, kind of person. There was something in his-
Hearing voices coming near, Buffy sat there in shock for a moment, before she was spurred into action. She hurriedly threw off the blanket and tucked it under straws, wincing at the pain she felt all over. It was not there because she had to sleep on the floor, no, she was quite used to feel the hardness of the bed she had in her hut.
The pain was there because she curled in on herself so tightly at night, that her muscles turned rigid. Her body apparently tried to protect itself from the things she had dreamt.
Like it would know that once she awakens, hell would have only just begun.
TBC...
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Author's Chapter Notes:
I'm so very late, I know... I'm sorry. have no other excuses than RL and the tricky-ness (is that even the word?) of the chapters to come.
i decided to proceed slowly, but hopefully enough clear for you (hell, even me) to understand.
Before you starte reading, I used the word 'spur' in there somewhere, and just today found out I shouldn't. as I quote from the source: ''The first recorded usage was in 1801. Spur also means "at haste" so perhaps spur of the moment - something done impromptu or with out deliberation grew out of spur in that sense, as in a quick decision.... '''(http://www.answerbag.com/q_view/44222).
Aaaanyway, seen the date it was first used?doesn't fit in the timeline of this story...and gosh I'm such a geek sometimes. To disproove it, I kept the word regardless. :)
The endearment Angelus uses in here is in Irish, and means 'my love'. In case you'll be wondering...
why are you reading this, anyway?
Thank you so much, Vette, for wonderful banner you've made for this story.. I mean.. people... have you SEEN it? Marvelous, I tell ya!
Unbetaed (I promise to find one soon... Unless you are for the job?) here we go then...
((((Warning for the Dru and Angelus usual behaviour))))
i decided to proceed slowly, but hopefully enough clear for you (hell, even me) to understand.
Before you starte reading, I used the word 'spur' in there somewhere, and just today found out I shouldn't. as I quote from the source: ''The first recorded usage was in 1801. Spur also means "at haste" so perhaps spur of the moment - something done impromptu or with out deliberation grew out of spur in that sense, as in a quick decision.... '''(http://www.answerbag.com/q_view/44222).
Aaaanyway, seen the date it was first used?doesn't fit in the timeline of this story...and gosh I'm such a geek sometimes. To disproove it, I kept the word regardless. :)
The endearment Angelus uses in here is in Irish, and means 'my love'. In case you'll be wondering...
why are you reading this, anyway?
Thank you so much, Vette, for wonderful banner you've made for this story.. I mean.. people... have you SEEN it? Marvelous, I tell ya!
Unbetaed (I promise to find one soon... Unless you are for the job?) here we go then...
((((Warning for the Dru and Angelus usual behaviour))))
Chapter End Notes:
*gulp* In a tiny voice: ''Review, pretty please?''