His Divine Queen

Rescuer

Green eyes fluttered open to the darkening sky above. The stars were bright tonight, scarcely twinkling in the fading burnt orange of the dying sun. Smoke wafted through the air, permeating the transitioning sky with its strange, ineffable scent. It smelt odd to him, sickening, as its scent curled repulsively around his dry tongue. A soft crackling of burning wood pierced his ringing ears like it was right next to him, yet when he turned to look at the source of the pungent smoke, he saw that it was at least 30 feet away. It was then that he noticed he was in a strange, metal cage. The sides were high, towering over him as he laid on the hard, bumpy ground. Which was another strange thing, he thought, as he felt underneath him and felt the same, dark metal poles making up the rest of the cage.

He was trapped apparently. And, with a nauseating churn of his stomach, he definitely felt like he was going to throw up.

He righted himself instantly, the sudden movement dizzying his head as he leant over and emptied himself into the sand peeking up at him from beneath his cage prison. What had they done to him?

Alaric didn’t remember much, it was all murky. They were “training”, mauling him as they usually did. But then they just… Stopped. And then, Alaric paused, bringing a shaky hand up to his shoulder. It was bandaged, but if he pressed hard enough, he could feel the wound as if it had only just happened. It burnt, the pressure of his fingertips sending a sharp ache through his body that made him grit his teeth.

One of them had bitten him. How had he not died?

Unless….

Oh Goddess, no. It couldn’t, could it?

Alaric tentatively brought his hand to his lips, feeling his teeth, his incisors. And there they were: sharper, larger, and definitive proof that one of those bloodsuckers had f****d up tremendously.

He was a vampire.

But did that mean he couldn’t shift anymore? He wasn’t sure how it worked – there had been no recorded incidences in the Palace library that he could recall. He was one of a kind.

There was a reason why hybrids were unheard of, why there had never been any recorded cases. They were an abomination, were seen as too unpredictable and dangerous to be created. But here he was – proof that it was possible.

And he was going to kill the people responsible for it, starting with that b***h Lissandra.

Anger welling up inside him, Alaric crawled towards the side of his cage, resting his aching head on its cold bars. The chill brought him relief, albeit briefly, until he heard the lilting tone of his captor snaking its way through the darkness towards him.

“My sister has sent word; she is leaving tonight and will meet us at the usual rendezvous point. Be ready to leave in 15, I want to be there by 2300 hours.”

Alaric shifted, straining his wavering hearing to eavesdrop on more of the conversation. Her sister? He didn’t think she had any family; she was too heartless to have anyone to care about. Pushing his head further into the solid metal bars, he strained his eyes into the dark. The embers of the fire clouded his vision slightly, his mind still not used to the strange sharpness that the hybrid state offered him. Eventually, he made out two figures stood motionlessly in the darkness past the fire’s reach. Their crimson eyes shone menacingly in the floating embers, gazes fixed solely on the dying blaze as they conversed freely, unknowing of their observer.

“Will we attack?” Spike asked, turning slightly to face her superior.

Lissandra paused, crossing her arms before responding dryly, “No. Not yet.”

Spike frowned into the fire, “But Lis, we need to attack soon! The King won’t be happy if we postpone further.”

“The King doesn’t understand how battle works, Spike. I do. So, you should listen to your commanding officer,” the General bit, her eyes flashing menacingly.

“But-”

“That’s an order, Spike.”

“I-” Spike began, stopping immediately when she received a sharp look from Lissandra. Hesitatingly, the ebony-haired beauty murmured, “yes, General. I will get everything ready for our departure,” before striding away into the darkness. Alaric could hear movement all around him, the shouts of vampires preparing their departure to meet Lissandra’s mysterious sister. Yet, all Alaric could focus on was the General.

She lingered at the precipice between firelight and darkness, features obscured in the dying blaze as she seemed lost in her thoughts. Alaric began to turn away, thinking that the moment was over – that she would turn and leave behind her second-in-command. Yet, something made him pause. A strange feeling made him hesitate, made him return his gaze to the flames. And past the flames that roared between them, stood the epitome of evil, the crimson eyes that only brought death. Yet when his eyes connected with them, all he felt was a sense of longing, of desperation and hope.

It was a peculiar feeling, yet one that consumed his every thought until she stopped in front of his cage. She leant against the cold metal bars, peering at his weakened frame with a refined quality that reminded him of Arabella. This thought only served to make him angrier, made him hate her even more, and himself even for daring to compare the two in the first place.

“Hello, dear,” she cooed.

Alaric curled his lip at her, shifting into the middle of the cage so that she did not try and touch him. He was repulsed by her, and wanted nothing to do with her. He promised himself that he would escape at the first opportunity he got.

“Now,” she continued, tapping her finger on one of the bars, “will you be a good little pet for me whilst I’m gone? And when I return we can talk about living arrangements. Hmm?”

He growled, flashing his incisors threateningly, “Get away from me, you witch!”

She laughed, one slender hand reaching deep into the cage and catching him off guard as it pulled him to the front of the cage. Alaric’s chest slammed into the solid bars, winding him as he tried to tilt his head away from her approaching face. Her lips descended close to his ear, brushing against his cold skin as she whispered, “Oh honey. You wish I were a witch.”

He gulped, panic growing inside him that threatened to burst at any moment. He felt trapped, completely useless and insignificant. He may have once been a Prince, but now he was nothing but her prisoner.

Her sharp teeth tugged threateningly at his neck, a small droplet of blood collecting on his skin, which she happily lapped. She tasted it for a moment, licking the wound clean, and sighed, “I’m much worse.”

Alaric gulped, his heart beating so hard he felt like it would fly out of his chest. Was this what the rest of his life would be like? Was he destined to remain trapped here forever, fulfilling this demon’s every wish and whim?

He was damned, but he would sacrifice everything that remained inside him to escape. Even if it killed him.

Lissandra eventually pulled away, pushing his body onto the floor of his cell as she straightened up. He managed to catch himself, landing heavily on his palms as he glared up at her. She smirked, and he watched in disgust as she proceeded to lick her lips, humming to herself. Enjoying his blood.

He felt sick again.

“General, we’re ready to leave,” Spike’s voice erupted from behind the tall vampire, interrupting whatever words she was about to say to him next. He praised his Goddess silently for the disruption, watching cautiously as Lissandra sent a loaded glance towards him before she left.

Alaric observed silently as a large group congregated around the bonfire, muttering amongst themselves as they prepared to leave. It was not long until they departed, leaving him with only a few guards that stationed themselves close to the glowing ashes of the once-magnificent fire. Minutes passed by as the former Prince watched his guards from the darkness of his prison. They barely paid him any attention, and he knew that if he were able to get out of this darned cage he would be able to take them. But he was trapped and weaponless – two things that did not go in his favour.

Resigning himself to another night stuck in the clutches of these monsters, Alaric cautiously lowered himself to the hard floor. The night was still. Barely a mutter was heard from the chattering vampires as they patrolled the camp, and their footsteps were muffled by the thick sand that they walked through. It was abnormally quiet, and Alaric knew he should take advantage of it whilst he still could – rest and regain his energy for an escape.

- - -

A rustle of fabric, a shifting of sand, a feminine hand curling around the bars of his cage. A dream, a twisted memory of the moment that he was released from his previous prison. The hand was the same, Alaric deduced as he blearily opened his eyes to the stary night sky above him. But, he turned his head to look where the hand had been.

It was still there, still resting on the cold metal, slender and… tanned?

It wasn’t Lissandra, and it wasn’t a dream.

His mind caught up to him, his breath catching in his throat as he sat up quickly. But the hand was still there, with a figure shrouded in darkness behind it.

Who was it?

The hand moved, returning moments later to shove something between the bars of his cage, before disappearing once again into the darkness beyond. Alaric scrambled up, straining his eyes to look into the dark sands, yet he could not see where the figure had gone. It was like they had disappeared into thin air.

Only then did he focus on what the figure had given him. A dark object was lodged into the bars of his cage, glinting mysteriously in the night air. He moved towards it curiously, bringing a hand up to touch it. As soon as his skin came into contact, it sizzled. The smell of burnt skin permeating the air as he brought his hand away in shock. The skin of his palm was bright red, pulsing in pain after the contact it had with the weapon.

He looked at it, inspected it in amazement: what was it? And who was that dark shadow that had given it to him?

It looked like metal, but not one he had seen before. It was fashioned into a crude knife-shape, sharpened to a point at one end. It may not have been the best weapon he had ever seen, but an idea came to his mind as he worked the object through the bars of his cage. He ignored the feeling of his skin starting to burn, the scent and sound of sizzling flesh nauseating as Alaric gritted his teeth to stop any sounds escaping his lips. But, he could get through it, he told himself. He had been through much worse.

He knew that if this metal could harm him, it would be able to harm them. Which meant that he finally had a weapon he could use to escape. With most of the vampires gone, he knew that this was his only chance, that he would have to act now before any of the others returned. This was the opportunity he had been waiting for, and he’d be damned if he let it pass him by.