His Divine Queen

Escape

It was now or never, Alaric thought as he crouched at the edge of his cage. His eyes were opened wide, scanning the dark surroundings for the guards that continued to shift lazily through camp.

When they turned away from him, he would take the time to inspect the lock fastened around the cage door. It looked simple enough, much like the iron locks he had seen back home, yet he knew that the odds were against him. He was a Prince, not a criminal, and he had never picked a lock in his life.

In his scorched palms rested the metal stake, its cold surface glinting in the rekindled firelight that barely illuminated where he waited in anticipation. He had long since learnt to ignore the stinging in his hands, the aching burn that slowly crept up his arm as he gripped the weapon tightly. He was ready. Although, he still had to actually get out of the cage.

He hadn’t exactly thought that part through, or any of it through, if he was being completely honest with himself. But, he did know that he’d be damned stupid to let this opportunity pass by. He refused to continue living under Lissandra’s rule, and even if he died tonight whilst attempting to escape, he knew it would be worthwhile. This was his only opportunity, the only moment where he would be able to escape before the others returned and brought another cruel monster with them.

When he was sure that the guards weren’t paying him any attention, he stood quickly. Ignoring the woozy spin in his head from his empty stomach, he squeezed his hand through the bars to tug despairingly at the cold iron. It barely moved, the only response of his efforts being a piercing screech that filled the air. He paused, eyes scrutinizing the dark camp as he waited for the guards to come charging towards him. Yet it seemed that tonight was working in his favour, as the minutes ticked by with only a stir of the night breeze.

His hand enclosed the cold iron, juggling its heavy weight softly in his grip as he grimaced slightly. If he could not get out of this cage, if he could not break this lock, his plan would all come to nothing. He would remain trapped, a prisoner in his own Kingdom to an evil creature that gave no regard to his life. He had to get out; he just had to. He had to apologise to Arabella for his actions until she forgave him, because he knew that eventually she would.

His heart was heavy with the weight of desperation, but he could not give up yet: had to keep trying even if it killed him. And so, with one quick sweep of the deserted camp, he tightened his grip on the iron, tugged once, and watched in disbelief as his hand came free. Within its clutches lay the broken remains of the once-sturdy lock. Confusion graced his features for a moment, before he grinned excitedly: he was free.

He would have stayed to ponder how he had managed to break pure metal so easily, but he knew that time was of the essence. He had to move quickly if he had any chance of escaping the camp tonight, of finding his way back to his wife. But he couldn’t leave without doing one more thing.

He pushed the door open cautiously, the movement pulling at his aching scars that acted as a miserable reminder of his time as a prisoner. He let it drive him forward, fuelling his raging desire to harm them just as they had him as his enhanced senses searched the camp for his prey.

He expected to see the vampires rushing towards him at any moment, fangs out and weapons drawn to attack. But, the seconds ticked by, and no movement disrupted the fading lights of the camp. He glanced upwards once more, eyes drawn to the intensity of the Moon as She gazed down at him. He had never been one to believe in the childish tales of their creation, but he decided to send a quick prayer up to Her anyway. Tonight, he could use all the help he could get.

Despite the aching creak of his spine as he straightened for the first time since his transition, Alaric smiled. It was a smile that mirrored his captor, promising pain and suffering to anyone that got in his way. And tonight, those people were the vampires.

Alaric stepped out of the iron cage, sinking deeply into the cold sands that continued to shift sluggishly across the abandoned camp. It was quiet, still, as if he were the only one there, but he knew that it was only a façade. Any moment, one of his demonic jailors could come around the next corner, spot him and attack. He did not want to wait like a sitting duck, so he placed one foot in front of the other to continue on.

Alaric soon came to a large tent, its deep red canvas looming above him. He smiled again, pushing the coarse fabric aside and stepping into the dark interior. It took a little while for his eyes to adjust, but soon he was able to make out the rough shape of objects: chairs, unlit hanging lanterns, and a large central table. He took note of the large map on the far wall, showcasing all the hills and dips of his land as if they had swept every inch themselves. He gulped, frustration bubbling inside at how much they seemed to know about his Kingdom. They really had no clue what they were up against.

He tore his gaze away from its taunts, praying that this room could unearth some of the vampire’s secrets just like they had done with the Weres. He moved towards the disarrayed tabletop, running his burnt fingertips along the papers casually thrown across its surface before stopping in front of a particularly large pile. He paused to look over his shoulder quickly, making sure the coast was clear, before dropping the metal stake onto the table and turning to shuffle through the documents. They were surprisingly detailed, yet Alaric could only grimace as he continued to scrutinize them. He hesitated at one particular letter, his frown deepening as he scanned its contents, yet suddenly it all fell into place. Why Lissandra was here, why they were targeting the Moon Kingdom, and why he had been taken. It was if the puzzle had been incomplete, and Alaric had just found the final piece.

A wind fluttered through the tent opening, reminding Alaric of the passing time. If he wanted to escape, he would need to move now. Sweeping the papers into a rough pile like it had been when he arrived, he snatched the stake off the table and rushed to the tent opening. He scanned the room once more, making sure nothing looked amiss, as if no one had been there. They could finally be one step ahead, and he couldn’t let the vampires catch on.  

The tent flaps closed unceremoniously behind him, and Alaric continued on his way through the camp. As he walked, he began to notice the changes he had not had chance to take in before. His hearing was sharper, eyesight clearer, and he could feel the air brushing against his skin as if it were a living being. In fact, now he thought about it, he could feel so much: the sluggish progression of his blood as it flowed through his system, the cold air filling every inch of his lungs, the brush of his eyelashes against his cheek as he blinked.

It felt wrong; he felt wrong.

He was so caught up in his musings, he nearly did not notice the guard standing in front of him. Alaric stopped, hesitating as the vampire let out a sharp hiss and jumped forward. His heart pounded fiercely in his throat, but he forced himself forward to meet the demon as he brought his weapon up in defence. His past self may have just turned and ran, but he was tired of fleeing – and he was out for blood.

The fight was intense and bloody. Terrifying, yet only minutes passed before Alaric was panting weakly, but triumphantly, over the withering body of the vampire. He felt repulsed at the sickening mixture of his own blood mixing with the stagnated off-crimson of his attacker’s, but he was mesmerised by the greying skin of his previous guard. A nauseating fascination came over him as the vampire grew old and decrepit in front of his eyes, then slowly withered away into nothingness as if he had never been on this Earth to begin with.

Was that going to happen to Alaric when he died, now he was one of them?

A cacophony of hissing pulled him out of his daze, and he turned to face the remaining three vampire guards. He gulped nervously as he looked at their animalistic features, the once beautiful faces of these immortal creatures growing into something grotesque at the sight of their murdered comrade. He steeled himself, gripping the bloodied stake closer to his chest. He was completely outnumbered and the odds were not in his favour, but he had to pray with every undamned bone in his body that he would make it out alive. He only hoped that the Moon Goddess was on his side tonight. And even if She would not take his prayers anymore, there was little he could do now except fight like his life depended on it – because really, it did.

The vampires sprang into action, darting towards him with a savage determination to avenge their fallen companion. Alaric readied himself, praying for a miracle as he clenched his heated weapon tightly towards his chest. He was so intent on the approaching demons, that he did not notice when several dark figures swept into the clearing. They moved as one force, sweeping hands and feet that caught the vampires by surprise, their screams of frustration and pain echoing in the still night air.

Alaric watched in amazement as the figures attacked with a ferocity and precision he had not seen before. Yet, although he wanted to thank the mysterious beings for aiding his escape, he knew that this was the miracle he had been waiting for – and took it gladly.

He turned and ran into the dark desert, not looking behind him as he focused only on his escape. The screams eventually turned into silence, and yet they remained in his head for the rest of the night. They haunted him as he forced himself forward, scrambling with every condemned cell in his body towards his future: towards his Arabella.