A Small Price to Pay Pt. 01

"Oh dear," a deep, feminine voice. "All flustered. What has sweet Beatrix been telling you?"

The person standing in the doorway was not the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. In truth, I hadn't seen many beautiful women at all. No, the woman standing in the doorway was likely the most beautiful woman I would ever see. Indeed, she was beauty incarnate, and in that same incarnation lay lust, love, and deadly peril as well.

Somewhat shorter than me, her hair was a waterfall of black silk that flowed down her shoulders. It was thick and lustrous, putting all other hair to shame. Her eyes were a piercing gray, like gemstones the color of an autumn sky. Her lips were blood-red, a shocking contrast that instantly drew the eye. Her skin, pale as marble, together with her unearthly stillness made her appear a statue to some long lost goddess of love.

My eyes slid down, seeing a dress of black and red with a shockingly low neckline that--

Instantly, I tore my gaze from the woman as though burned. I got up from the chair and took to one knee. I carefully did not look at the woman. Instead, I stared at one of the great wooden panels that composed the floor.

"Lady countess, excuse me rudeness. I came here to petition your--"

"Yes, yes," the woman said. Her voice was deep and luxurious. She was utterly calm, and though I knew she could see my every twitch she did not comment on my temerity. "Beatrix told me about your case. I will, naturally, have to ask other parties but I believe it is simple enough. Your petition is accepted, tentative to the price being paid."

She was beautiful, but it was more than that. Her body seemed gentle and soft, but I suddenly knew it contained an otherworldly strength that matched her otherworldly beauty. Enough to overpower me with contemptuous ease, a fact that was somehow a little enticing.

"I am yours to do with as you wish, my lady," I said, the words tumbling out of my mouth before I realized what they implied.

She studied me for a moment. "The price is just a little blood, young man, nothing more," she said thoughtfully. "Unless you want to put yourself forward?"

Conflicting thoughts and emotions warred inside me. She only wanted my blood, nothing else, and yet it seemed as though she was inviting more. Did I want that? How could I not?

"Look at me," she commanded.

Her command sent a tiny thrill through me, and I didn't understand why. I obeyed, my eyes widening as I perceived her beauty again. This time my eyes did slide down the rest of her body. Her dress was a black and red creation, shockingly thin. It clung to every curve of her form, exposing the tops of her breasts to the cool night air, then tracing a narrow waist unrestrained by any corset. Though it extended down to her feet, the fabric was so tight I felt as though I could see her unblemished alabaster thighs if I so much as closed my eyes.

"Eager, and yet afraid," she said matter-of-factly. "Undecided. Let us put that aside for now. Stand up."

I obeyed her, and again the same tiny thrill, like a caress in some intimate place.

"Come forward," she commanded.

I did as she bid, but soon I found myself trembling. I didn't know if it was with dread or anticipation. I jerkily tilted my head, presenting my outstretched neck to her, and closed my eyes.

To my surprise, instead of the sharp press of her fangs, I felt thin arms wrapping around me. Some stories said the countess had no soul and no heartbeat, that her humanity had died hundreds of years ago. I couldn't comment about the latter, but the former seemed true enough. Her body was still and colder than mine.

"Shhh," she whispered, breath softly tickling my ear. "It will be over in a moment. You'll see." Her voice was kindly and oh so sweet. I found myself relaxing, my whole body becoming limp in her arms. Soon she was holding me up, though she showed no sign of any strain.

She began stroking my neck with gentle fingers. It was an unmistakably intimate caress, such as one lover might give to another. I felt a dreamy sigh escape my lips, my eyes growing heavy-lidded.

"Are you ready?" She whispered like a lover.

"Yes, my lady," I replied, and in my mind I was consenting to something completely different.

I first felt a warm wetness touch the soft skin of my neck, making my breath catch in my throat and filling me with thrumming anticipation.

Then the fangs. It took them a single moment to slide in, two pinpricks of pain. An uncomfortable intrusion. I felt a release of pressure and sudden spreading weakness, right before the pleasure hit. It overwhelmed the pain, overwhelmed my senses. My eyes closed of their own accord and I saw bright stars burning in an infinite night sky.

Floating on a wave of pleasure, my senses seemed to belong to someone else. The chill of her body around mine, the gentle suction of her lips against the skin of neck. The action of her throat as she drank.

I moaned shamelessly, clutching at her body. I felt my manhood hardening in spite of my weakness, in spite of all the blood leaving my body. I pressed close against her, trying to rub...

Distantly, I realized what I was doing was incredibly wrong. If she felt that hardness, as surely she must, she would have me beaten or worse. But I couldn't stop myself. What was once desire turned into raw need, then into desperation.

I had imagined this moment like having a tooth pulled. Deeply painful and unpleasant, but something over in a moment. The truth, though, was completely different. I wasn't sure if I could ever be the same again, knowing such a vastness of pleasure existed.

It lasted hours, or days, or maybe just a few seconds. Then, all too soon, it was over.

My first words were a croaked, "More," though I was so weak I barely had the strength to cling to the countess's dress.

She held me up effortlessly, threading her arms under my shoulders. "I've already had too much," she murmured. "I do apologize. Normally I have much better self control. I'm not certain what it is, but you do taste delicious."

She liked it. Perhaps... that means... "Please, let me stay. I love you. I want to serve you. I will do anything. Please, I need more."

"Oh. Oh dear," the countess said, not terribly concerned. "One of those. And to think you were so shy a minute ago. Well, let's get you in bed for now."

I mumbled a few more words, incoherent, before the countess placed me on the bed and the darkness closed in.

I slept through the night, but I still felt a little weak when I woke up the next morning. I noticed a folded piece of thick white paper framed by elegant curlicues resting on the table. I got off the bed and padded barefoot to pick it up.

Little Erik,
No doubt I will be asleep when you read this. Take your time to recover. We will discuss your petition, as well as the possibility of your service, after twilight.

The note was written in an elegant hand. Each letter flowed into the other, so that I had to squint at the page to make them out. I wondered how the countess knew I could read. After a second's hesitation I placed it to the side. It was mine, and too precious to lose.

When I thought of yesterday, I found my memories hazy and indistinct. What had I said to my parents, or to Ulrich? I only vaguely recalled Beatrix's name.

Only one experience blazed in my mind - my meeting with the countess. It was so much more than I could have imagined. The sweet sensation of letting go, of being in the vampire's impossibly powerful arms, was no less vivid than the pure ecstasy of the bite.

How could I go back home after last night? How could I marry one of the village girls, knowing such things were possible and that I'd never experience them again? I knew the thoughts were indecent, most likely sinful, and certainly corrupt; but they were also undeniable.

It was so easy to understand why so many chose to give themselves to the countess again and again. It was harder to understand how anyone could do anything else. And somehow I knew that what happened last night was but a sip of something so vast I could drown in it.

I had done nothing but work my parents' field my entire life. I'd never wanted anything else, but I suddenly realised it was because I didn't know what else there was. Now that I've received a glimpse of something greater, I found I couldn't help but try and attain it.

I eventually found myself hungry. At first I imagined some food might be brought to me, but I soon realized I was hardly important enough and it wasn't as though I was so weak I couldn't walk, so I ventured out of my room and attempted to find some.

It seemed as though the castle slept for most of the day, as there were few people walking the halls. Those that did either wore the armor of footmen or the livery of servants. I kept expecting to see Beatrix again, but I found myself disappointed.

I found the kitchens after a few surreptitious questions. It was a large hall with a long table and several great ovens on one side. A round, middle-aged woman with graying hair tucked into a neat bun was working dough into loaves of bread. Her apron was caked with flour - perhaps that same flour that had come with the taxes. She gave me a suspicious glance.

"And who might you be, young sir?" She asked, not stopping her work.

"Erik. I came by yesterday to petition the countess..." I said, trailing off as the woman's expression changed from suspicion to an amused kind of pity.

"Well, I hear your petition has been accepted. You paid the price and so on," she said thoughtfully. "But you won't be satisfied with that now, will you?"

Unsure how to reply, I stuck to my primary purpose. "I certainly won't. I'd also like something to eat," I told her flatly.

"A sharp one then. Well, I'm Inge, just one of the cooks. I'll fix you something up. I better be on my best behavior with the future count, ain't I?" She laughed raucously at her own joke.

"The future... what?" I asked. I didn't appreciate being laughed at, but I wanted to understand how she was mocking me first.

She stopped kneading the dough and instead started rummaging around one of the barrels, gathering a few small apples and some of yesterday's bread, along with a hunk of cheese. She didn't stop speaking as she worked.

"Seeing as how you're going to marry the countess and live happily ever after," she explained, not quite with a straight face.

"Marry the countess?!" I burst out. I thought about the notion for a moment - me, the impossibly beautiful countess, a wedding. Me being her husband. I couldn't help but laugh.

When I looked back at Inge she was eying me warily. "So I take it old Hanna heard wrong? You didn't, in strident tones, proclaim your eternal love to our kind lady?"

I coughed, embarrassed.

"Or is it that you just want to be one of her playthings?" The cook asked, handing me the food.

I refrained from answering, instead busying myself with the food. The woman seemed to take it as an admission of guilt.

"I suppose you're not as dumb as I thought," she allowed. "Well, I can't say many don't see the appeal. I don't think she's ever hired out, if you know what I mean, but you probably have a better chance than most."

"So she really...?" I trailed off. I had guessed as much, but it was something else to hear it confirmed so openly.

"I'll just say the lady countess has her own amusements, and plenty of those who enjoy amusing her too," the cook said with a sideways glance. "Though I suppose you might want to ask our lady knight about that."

"You mean Beatrix?" I guessed, recalling the many scars on the girl's neck.

"Hmph. So you've met her. She's not a real lady, mind, nor is she a real knight. Hildebrandt's daughter - used to be the countess's right hand. Was a good man. The countess has taken quite a liking to her," the cook said, the salacious smile on her lips making the implication rather obvious.

"But... they're both women," I tried. Unbidden, lewd imaginings of Beatrix and the countess started popping up in my mind. I filed some for later consideration.

"Hasn't stopped the countess in the past," the middle-aged woman said with that same smile. "Oh, I don't know what they do. I asked her once, but all she did was flush a bright crimson and chew my ear off."

I assumed she meant Beatrix; I found it hard to imagine Inge asking the countess.

I spoke with the cook a little more, absorbing the gossip of the castle as she kneaded the dough and placed the loaves into the large stone ovens. Her constant chatter was rather guileless, the rumors often surprisingly scandalous.

I soon found myself tiring again. It seemed as though I hadn't recovered from yesterday's events yet. I gave the cook my goodbye and made my way back to my chamber.

"Have a good rest, your lordship," Inge cackled.

I ignored her.

I fell asleep again and woke up a few hours later to find Beatrix peering out from the doorway, that slender sword still swinging at her side. She was looking at me curiously, a small smile on her lips.

"So, how did your meeting with the countess go?" she asked innocently.

"It went... well," I managed, something in her expression making me instantly suspicious.

She stepped into my room and approached the bed, her smile widening. "So the countess accepted your petition?"

"She did," I confirmed.

"And I suppose you're itching to go back home," she mused. "The life of a peasant is difficult, I've heard. Surely your parents need all the help they can get."

"I know that. I just..." I trailed off with a shrug.

"How tragic. All that filial sentiment gone after barely ten minutes with the countess..."

I frowned at her. I wasn't about to take that from her. For all that she dressed like a nobleman and wore a sword, it seemed we were very much in the same boat.

"Well, is it such a surprise, when even noblewomen such as you cannot resist her charms?" I asked with a pointed look.

Her brows shot up at that. Apparently she hadn't expected any backtalk. "I suppose it's not really a secret," she admitted grudgingly.

"It seems that nothing in this castle is."

"Not when you go shouting it to the rafters, no."

I looked away. "I suppose I got a little carried away," I admitted.

"Yeah," she said, her tone gone a little soft, a tiny blush returning to her cheeks. "I understand."

"Can I ask... how is it like?"

"Being her paramour, you mean?" Beatrix asked.

"Yeah."

Beatrix was silent for a long moment. "She picks one of us every night," she finally said, looking away from me, that pretty blush spreading across her face. "To pleasure her, I mean. We never know which one it's going to be. You can refuse her exactly once, but if you do you will never be hers again. It's always... she is... she takes pleasure in giving pleasure. You will always be satisfied, in the end. But she can be cruel at times. We are her toys, after all. Cherished toys, but toys still."

It felt odd, hearing Beatrix describe herself as a toy. She spoke not with frustration, but rather with acceptance and satisfaction. But thinking back to being in the vampire's arms, it was easy to understand the appeal.

"It's happened before, you know. You're not the first to proclaim your undying love after feeling her touch. She's just never taken anyone in after that," she said.

I felt a sudden stab of fear at those words. The countess hadn't actually allowed me to serve her, after all.

"They're always men. They always believe in true love or some grand destiny. They don't understand the countess, or maybe they don't want to. A few have even proposed marriage. All of us in the castle pity them, more than anything," she continued.

I nodded, recalling the cook's mocking tone. "You don't seem to be pitying me, though."

"I do think you're different. I think you understand. I think she sees that."

There was no trace of jealousy in her tone. In fact, there was a kind of fellowship, in complete disregard to our differing stations. My heart brimmed at the knowledge of it. "Thank you," I said softly.

She gave me a brief smile. "Besides," the girl said vaguely. "You have certain other advantages."

"What does that mean?"

"You know what I mean."

"I don't."

"So you haven't had mobs of flustered peasant girls chasing after you."

I flinched. "They don't... chase..." I stammered, knowing it didn't make it sound any better.

She snorted. "One of the innocent ones. Of course."

We chatted a bit more. Beatrix told me of her father, who had been a knight in the countess's service for decades. He had passed away from a wasting sickness a few years prior, leaving Beatrix in the countess's care. Her father had trained her as a knight, even though as a woman she couldn't become one. That meant little in the countess's court, however. She had her own plate armor and a squire, though one she rather disliked.

She told me of her exploits. Her adventures - she never called them that, but that was how I saw them - chasing after brigands with dozens of men-at-arms at her back. She told me of the tourney she had almost won. She told me of her horse, Saber, who sounded more like a monster than a simple beast, and yet she spoke of him with the pride of a mother.

I started realizing the heroic dreams of my childhood weren't so fantastical after all. Here was a woman who lived them, one who rode out to meet the world instead of marrying some wealthy farmer. Not that I was still sore about that.

I had little to tell, myself. I spoke of my family's troubles with the Kossmanns, and a few of the other families. How I enjoyed the quiet, hard work of tending to our fields. I mentioned a few times that I had dreamt of something more, though I made sure not to mention Christa or my lack of desire for marriage.

Haltingly, I told her a little of my feelings towards the countess. At least the ones I managed to understand.

It was night before I was summoned before the countess a second time. This time it was one of the servants who brought me - Beatrix usually had much more important things to do.

"Here we are," the servant gestured towards a large door of some rich wood I couldn't name. "Knock and wait a few minutes, then enter."

"Thank you."

I did as the servant had instructed. The door opened to a beautiful suite of rooms panelled with dark red wood. A great four poster bed lay in one of the interior rooms. The whole suite was illuminated by many closed lanterns that were bracketed to the walls or hung on the ceiling.

The countess was reclining in a chair, paging through a thin volume. Her red dress was of a completely different design. It resembled a long overgown, one of those robes with wide sleeves often worn by priests and noblemen, but it was clear she was wearing nothing underneath it.

The red fabric wrapping her body seemed to only incidentally cover her breasts and revealed a startling amount of pale flesh. Although standing it might have extended down to her knees, sitting cross-legged had pulled the fabric short, exposing a mouth-watering expanse of perfectly formed thigh.

Her eyes regarded me cooly, expectant.

I quickly got down to my knee and managed to lower my gaze. "My lady," I greeted.

"Erik," she said, not giving me leave to rise. "You should be pleased to know that the matter you have brought to my attention has been dealt with. The family Kossmann has been chastised and will be forced to pay heavy reparations to your own."

"Thank you, my lady," I said. I was, of course, happy. The Kossmanns had been a thorn in my family's side for years, a thorn that would hopefully be gone.

"And yet you seem dissatisfied. What troubles you, little Erik?"

"I..." I cleared my throat. "I had a wish to serve you, my lady."

"Serve me..." the countess repeated, as though unfamiliar with the concept. "And how would you do that? You possess no skills that I know of. How would you serve me, little Erik?"