Akeldama

The metal IV hanger stood behind his right shoulder, two of the purest bags of AB blood hung taut, feeding life back into his body. Peering around the audience chamber, noting the lack of change since he'd been gone. The feeling of the time in France weighed heavily on his mind and the anger at the nobles that thought to decide his fate. They had no qualms asking for his help when the humans sacked and pillaged their homes.

Many of whom owe their lives to him, yet where did that get him? Stuffed into a box. Starved to the brink of death, while those that owe him everything prospered in his absence. Yet here they sat on their minor thrones, gained from deception, assassination, and simple treachery. Their long dead eyes staring at him in shock, their skin paling at the very sight of him. Conner would have thought many of them hoped he had died in that box if he was a betting man. In some ways, that was true; half the time, Conner never felt like the same person. He felt displaced even within his own skin. Unsure if his madness had taken hold of him, only allowing him a few moments of freedom from his self-made prison.

"I called you all here today," Helen said, standing next to her son. "To welcome my son back into the fold," her hand resting on his shoulder, "I know with his return we shall be stronger than we have been in over a century."

"Forgive me, my Queen, for interrupting," Lord Sorn said, rising from his seat. "Though it is a great day that your son's imprisonment has come to an end. Is it wise to allow him into these proceedings when he would dilute your bloodline with..." Helen was taken aback by the swiftness of his movements. Within seconds, Sorn was lifted off his feet as Conner's grip slowly crushed his windpipe.

"All you so-called nobles owe your very lives to my men who laid down their lives so you can sit in luxury and me," Conner said, his gaze penetrating the very gloom of the room. "If you ever think of mentioning her again, I shall finish what that human lord failed to do," he said, bringing Sorn to his face. "You nobles have gone lax in your old age." Tossing Sorn back into his seat.

"To allow a house to burn and a leader to be butchered in his own rooms," Conner said, smiling wickedly moving towards his seat. "Now you allow a traitor to rise so far within our ranks, privy to sensitive information, where he will no doubt sell it to our enemies," he said, wincing as he replaced the IV drips back into his arm. "This Council has outlived its purpose if it allows even one of these things to happen."

"My Lord," Harland said, stepping out of the shadows. "If I may speak." Bowing low as Conner greeted him with a nod. "Thank you, my Prince, while your skills are formidable even in your current state. I do not say this to diminish your grief of what has been taken from you. Yet, is this the man speaking, or is this the anger that dwells within your heart. For if you pursue this course of action, it could only mean war between our two factions. One where neither side will win and may cause the humans to become aware of us once again. This time we might not win given their sheer numbers." Conner started to speak, yet his mother cut him off.

"All realistic possibilities," Helen said to the Council. "One which we cannot allow to happen. We barely won the last war with the humans, and our ranks were twice what they are now. In this, I agree with our master strategist here, so let us confer with Lord Harland that he might devise a plan to ensnare this traitor without alerting the humans. What harm Dustin has caused can hopefully be kept to a minimum; I also command that my son here be the one that leads the task force to retrieve our turncoat."

"Yes, my Queen, it shall be done," Harland said, bowing low as he backed away, only to be stopped by Conner's voice.

"I hear you have a daughter." Harland's head snapped around so fast one would expect his vertebra to have broken in two. Harland didn't think the Queen would have told her son about his bid so soon.

"Yes, she has just recently joined my House," Harland said, studying the prince's face.

"I see," Conner said, still resting indifferently in his throne. "Bring her," looking over at his mother, knowing this was going to irk her to no end, "to my mother's chambers, and we shall see where this leads," Conner said, rising from his seat. He was weary of these people, weary of that stale room, weary of the life he was forced to live without her. Leaning on the metal pole without making it look like he needed the support. If they caught any hint of weakness, they'd be on him like a pack of hyenas. That little display had caught them off guard; a few would be left guessing on how much strength he truly had -- namely, his mother.

******

A lump formed in Mary's throat as she stood outside the Queen's chamber. She had expected Harland to be gone for the better part of the night like he normally was when the Council was in session. Mary had not expected Harland to come barging into her room. Interrupting her reading, everything she could find on the Prince, which to say, was very little. It confused her that there should be more detailed information on the man given his age and his exploits during the war. There were not many of their kind that reached over a millennia. Given their chronicler's obsession with the history of every elder that walked the land.

Mary could not understand why he was not among them. Even the historical text of their war with the humans only mentioned him in passing and only then as the Prince. Mary had the impression that every record that contained his name was stricken from history. A pang of pity welled within her heart; she had no clue how she would react to being erased from history. Looking up from her current book, she had purloined from the house's great library. Harland's brow was covered in a sheen of blood sweat, his eyes darting to and fro, looking for her. Then as his frantic state settled, Harland finally saw her.

"Go and wash yourself," Harland ordered, rushing over to her armoire.

"Why? What for?" Mary asked, growing irate at being ordered about.

"The Prince has asked that you present yourself in the Queen's chamber in two hours," Harland said, over the sound of the metal hangers sliding along the wooden rail as he pushed gowns aside. Looking for the best gown that would suit the situation, peering over his shoulder when he heard nothing except his own frantic search. "Well, go on, we don't have time to waste!" It took Mary a few seconds to realize her mouth hung agape. However, once her mind had caught up, she was racing into her adjourning bathroom. Hastily tossing her clothes aside as the steam billowed out over the cloudy glass shower door.

"Mary," Harland called out as he cracked the door open.

"Yes?!" Her voice echoed off the tiles.

"I'm placing a tray here on your vanity; there are oils and perfumes that I would like for you to wear when you're around the Prince. Also, I have laid out a gown that I think that will guarantee his Lordship will seek you out more often. Just for this night; then you may wear whatever you wish. I want you to make quite the impression on the man. Once you are done, there will be two ladies here to help you," Harland said as he closed the door behind him.

Mary stood there as the hot water poured down her naked body. Angry at being ordered about once again and nervous at spending any length of time alone with that man. While it was true, they had met under false pretense, and she had delivered him into the hands of the very people who had done such vile things to him.

Would he hate her for bringing him to this place? Was he only doing this to get at her? If so, would she see another night? Her heart raced at what possibilities this night would bring. Ducking her head into the cascading torrent of water, hoping it would drive away her woes. Once the stream of water eased its cleansing might on her naked flesh Mary was hauled out by four strange hands. So startled was she her body was toweled dried before Mary could voice her displeasure. Then once they were satisfied that not a drop of water remained on her body. Wrapping her in a hot towel laced with lavender oil, one of her helpers went to work on her unruly hair. While the other picked over the cosmetics and tested the scents of the oils and perfumes set out on the tray.

"Lord Harland said you were born in this time period." Her hand passed over the bottles. "You were born in the 18^th century, yes?" Mary nodded, although she wondered why they needed to know her age. "Good, then you will be familiar with these. It is my Lord's hope that these oils will take the Prince's mind off the past hundred years, at least for a short time. His hope is that Prince Conner will come to see you as someone he could seek companionship in. Though I can't say this will happen, I have seen women high and low, running through the halls their dreams dashed before them." Her hazel eyes ran over Mary as her hands quickly mixed a compound that would complement the lavender soaking into her skin. "Would you like some advice?" Noting Mary's unease as they fretted over her.

"Yes, please," Mary said weakly.

"From what I have seen of the Prince in the past, he cares not for those who seek to raise their standing in marrying him; nor does he care for those who have no thought of their own except those of courtly life, and the balls that go with them."

"And those who repeat the words that were stuffed into their pretty little heads," chimed in the woman behind her, "they are the ones that are dismissed before they cleared the threshold of his chambers."

"Right you are, June," sharing a devilish giggle, "that's June, and I'm Sue; we would exchange more pleasant greetings, but time is not our friend," Sue said, smiling warmly at Mary.

Mary shook her head to drive away the distracting thoughts while they had sound advice about the Prince; however, that was before his mother had him tortured. No one could say that man still existed, yet they could not comment on how much his imprisonment changed him. Her heart did go out to him; nonetheless, to place his people in a near state of war was unthinkable. Sucking in a breath as her knuckles rasped on the wooden door.

"Enter." Came a reply as Mary entered instantly; her skin was on fire, the morning rays bathing her unprotected skin. Dashing into the shadows before any damage could be done to her and the gown Harland loaned her.

Her heart raced as her eyes searched frantically for a way to escape, fearing he had indeed intended to kill her. Her eyes burned as she looked upon the man as he stood within the alcove. Sunlight slipped out, bathing him in its golden rays. Seemingly unaware of her plight as he tilted his head back, inhaling the scents of the new morning.

"Forgive me," Conner said, finally taking notice of her discomfort. "If I had known, the curtains would have been drawn before you arrived," he said, quickly closing the curtains. Casting the room in a light red tint as the sunlight filtered through the red velvet curtains. "You were not harmed, I hope?" Conner asked, stopping at the end of the couch.

"No," Mary said, trying to control her racing heart.

"Please, will you sit?" Conner asked, offering her the chair furthest away from him. "It's unbecoming of me to cause you discomfort."

"Even when it was I who brought you here?" Mary asked, slowly walking towards the chair, ready to bolt if she felt he was about to strike her.

"Even then, when you had no idea who I was," Conner said, a faint smile graced his lips. Why did her knees feel weak by the smile he graced her with. Mary lowered herself into her seat, uncertain if this was a ploy to lower her guard.

"What of those in France did they deserve to die?"

"Many of them, yes," Conner said, matter-of-factly.

"Should John not have had a trial before you tore him apart?" Mary asked, straightening her back.

"They've done nothing to the man after his first crime. I highly doubt the council would have lifted a finger in the future."

"So you thought it best to take it into your own hands to end his life?" Mary asked, letting the accusation hang in the air.

"It was either me or one of his subordinates," Conner said, shrugging his shoulders. "Or the husbands of the wives he drained of both blood and money. Which would you prefer?" he said, his eyes running down her tailored blue velvet dress clinging tightly to her small body. Her small, firm breasts were cradled within the soft fabric, cutting a quarter of the way revealing her soft, smooth, pale skin. His senses were assaulted by scents of the past.

"Where are you looking, my Prince?" Mary asked, quickly hiding her smile as he quickly looked away.

"I have forgotten how beautiful it is," Conner said, looking over at the alcove.

"Yes, I can see how you would think that; I have not seen the sunrise in over two hundred years. I have learned to accept that fact, yet there are many things about the night that are equally as beautiful."

"However, you could hunt for yourself, converse with your friends, spend your days in the arms of your lovers. Yet that was taken from me by those I once trusted, so why should I trust you enough to wed you?" Conner asked, casting Mary a skeptical look.

"Listen, I don't want this any more than you do," Mary said, growing irate at the man. "However, I can understand your anger at those that have taken so much from you."

"Do you?!" Conner growled. "Have you ever been chained to the wall while the one you have yearned for all these years, is raped and thrown at your feet, bled dry to sustain their own vile lives? Who's own parent ordered you whipped until nothing more than a ragged piece of meat, only wishing that you could follow your beloved into oblivion?" Mary held her tongue as she saw the unshed tears he had withheld all these years. "No, I doubt you know the pain I have gone through," Conner said, twisting the silver ring on his forefinger.

"No, I can't say I know what you're feeling," Mary said in a soothing voice. Silently slipping in beside him, placing a hand on his shoulder, surprised by the warmth of his body. "Yet, I know the feeling of being helpless to help those that you love." Conner looked into her eyes. Mary willed him to see the truth of her words.

"I believe you do," Conner sighed. "Look at me heaping my troubles onto you when you have no wish to be here."

"Oh, I never said that," Mary said innocently, feeling her cheeks grow hot as she caught him smiling at her. Her breath was caught in her chest as his smile reached his eyes, so taken aback by their luster, she failed to hear the pounding on the door nor the heat of his hand as it covered hers. Instantly, his smile faded, and his gaze turned deadly as Conner looked towards the door.

"It appears we must cut this short," Conner said, helping Mary to her feet. "Hopefully, the next attempt will be more fruitful," he said, placing a kiss on her hand. Mary fought for any coherent words she could muster before they were rudely intruded upon by Lynn. Her venomous stare burned into Mary once she saw their shared contact.

"What are you doing here, Lynn?!" Mary could practically hear his loathing for the woman. Yet Conner never released her hand when her eyes screamed for murder.

"I've come to see my betrothed," Lynn said, walking seductively towards him. "Why don't you run along now," she said, practically throwing Mary out. The force of Lynn's shove sent Mary tumbling, falling to her knees, tears of pain welled up in the corners of her eyes. Fighting back her pain, Mary would not give that woman the pleasure of seeing it on her face. Mary hoped the dress Harland had painstakingly held onto all these years was not ruined by Lynn's vile temper. Mary fought back her shock as a warm, strong hand grasped her above her elbow, helping her stand.

"This is not how I wished our encounter to go," Conner whispered into her ear. "I must admit you are by far the most vexing woman I have had the honor to meet. I would be most honored, that if you so wished to grace me with your presence, you would be most welcomed here. If you so choose to grace one such as I."

Mary was stunned as his words settled on her shoulders; she could hardly believe he thought he was lower in any sense than she was. What could she say to a man who thought she was such a person when there were far more beautiful women waiting to be at his arm? Yet here he was asking for her company as if she was Venus herself.

"I would like that." That was all Mary could say as his taut lips spread into a warming smile.

"Then goodnight, Lady Harland," Conner said, bowing low. Mary suppressed her tremor as his silken soft lips graced her hand; heat flared throughout her body as his pale blue eyes ran up her body.

"Goodnight, my Lord," Mary said before making a hasty retreat back to her rooms.

Conner watched her go, longing to follow after, wishing he was someone else other than a Prince. Conner could feel Lynn's eyes burning holes in his back. He had no wish to be with her now or then; why she insisted on what he called an obsession was beyond him.

"That was rude of you," Conner said, keeping his face placid while his tone carried his displeasure. "Whoever said I ever agreed to this binding between us?" Lynn fidgeted underneath his gaze.

"Your mother and my late father agreed to our joining," Lynn said, mustering up her courage.

"Ah, yes, my mother," Conner spat, "which she would not have to live with you."

"What's so wrong with me?!" Lynn said, her anger flaring as she closed the distance between them. "Would it be so bad?" she asked, running her hands up his chest. "Who was it that watched over you when all would rather see you erased from history. When it was I that who watched over you, cared for you when all wished nothing more than your death."

"She has a point, my son," Helen said, returning from Lady Sabrina's chambers. "You cannot brush off the girl because you disapprove of her methods."

"Then why don't you marry her if you value her so?"

"I am quite content with being a solo monarch," Helen countered. "You need someone who understands the role of governing an empire. I will not always be here to lead our people Conner. A mate that understands this aspect of life will help ease the burden." Lynn sent Helen a thankful look, which she cared not if the foolish woman won her son's hand or not. "The council accepts her and would listen to her suggestions, more so than Lord Harland's daughter. Who, until recently, was nothing more than a lowborn accountant. There is more at stake than your foolish notion of love and whatnot. However, you could always take Lady Harland as a consort," Helen said, not missing the look of disgust at the thought. "Or don't, but you must make a choice soon. You are too old to be on the front lines; your wisdom would be of better value to those young and headstrong. The council and I wish this matter closed and done with. Our line must live on whether you chose one or both."

"Is that so, mother?" Helen saw the growing defiance in his eyes. "Then you leave me no choice," Conner said, his fist clenched at his side. Helen saw what he was about to do, and she wasn't about to lose him again.

"Do not think of abdicating your throne, even if you had a sibling, I would hear none of it?!" Conner's eyes narrowed dangerously at her. If she was someone else, Helen had no doubt she would be dead at that very moment. Yet he walked past her into the darkness, to where she could not say.

"Thank you, my lady; hopefully, he will come to his senses," Lynn said as Helen watched her son's fading silhouette.