One

In which the girl discovers.

"Astrid."

She tilted her head back, pulling her bare foot into the throne as her father spoke down to her. He was the image of perfection, with pale skin painted a solid chalky white and striking blue eyes lined black. Even his perfect raven hair was powdered a snowy white. She was nothing like him, with her mass of brown curls and tan skin, dark brown eyes and nasty habit of being horribly apathetic with all things existent. She couldn't hear a word he was saying, not that she had wanted to, to start with. She was too busy daydreaming about a life of adventure so far out of her grasp, she'd never have considered humoring another person with their details. Her hopes and aspirations were better kept in a journal tucked safely under a blue silk pillow beneath her bed.

"-ster Fea will be paying a visit. Your Companion will not be permitted attendance during her-"

She fell out of the conversation once more, her mind drifting to her Companion. He was more of a father than the man standing before her, even though she'd never actually seen him with her own eyes the short amount of years she'd known him. She easily trusted him with her life, whereas this man standing before her, she didn't trust him with her oldest pair of filthy boots. He had too many secrets and spent more time preparing for a war she was skeptical about than actually raising his own flesh and blood. Even her sisters spoke poorly of the supposedly perfect man, claiming he was ill-tempered and very distant, though they never hesitated to pay a visit whenever he called.

He sensed her usual disinterest and disobedience, but rather than scold her as a normal father might have, he let out a sigh and simply left. There was no point conferring with an eternally somber child, even if she was his most precious heir. She was the youngest of his children, and easily the strongest, though not physically. She had inherited an ancient magic from her mother and that made her the only legitimate heir to his entire fortune. As well as making her his greatest threat.

Unfortunately, little Astrid had very little idea as to her predetermined destiny, and therefore had no knowledge of the power stirring inside of her. Or the fear mutating the man's heart.

Alone, or as alone as a throne room filled with guards could feel, she climbed to her feet and trudged back through the endless halls of purest white and to the confines of her room. The only room in the entire castle that had some sort of array of colors outside of the greens and browns of natural growth. The room, in her eyes, was beautiful. With long sheer curtains and a multitude of lanterns hanging from the high ceiling casting the room in colorful ambience. The floor was covered with a thick, purple rug dotted with scattered pillows, and heavy incense filled the air with a thin haze.

A sharp pain filled her head the moment silence filled the room, resonating with her left eye. Her hand lifted to somehow ease the pain with a mere touch, but she was always too hopeful. The pain was a regularity in her life, much like the constant boredom and loneliness that accompanied the long hours between conversation with her beloved Companion.

"The pain grows stronger now," the lightly accented voice belonged to the odd man seated precariously on her bed, leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, his feet pulled in and his downturned grey face obscured by silver hair. The sharp tips of his grey ears poked out through his neat, silver hair and when he lifted his head, red eyes met her scared face with humor.

"Who are you?"

He tilted his head, a smile growing on his face to expose clean teeth. While still playing the intruder, he managed to look kind and gentle, and so the girl wasn't nearly as afraid as she felt she should have been. She'd read of such a being, with monochrome grey skin and hair that looked like the precious metals that adorned her loose clothes. Supposedly mythical, they were a race of born assassins bred for nothing but.

"Get out of my room," she said with a dismissive tone. Her father loved her to the point of borderline obsession, if she so much as raised her voice, guards would swarm her room in moments. It was the only decent thing he'd offered her: unconditional safety within the walls of his palace.

The man climbed to his feet, exposing his incredible height and unidentifiable regal attire that framed his athletic physique. Judging by his appearance alone, he was a man who had experienced years of labor, no doubt the innocent kind either. "Come now, is that any way to speak to your Companion?"

"Companion...?" She took a step into him, craning her neck to stare up into his handsome face. "Eisinth?"

"The one and only," he teased, tousling her wild hair with a gloved hand. His fatherly familiarity eased her discomfort and she relaxed.

"How are you here? Real?" She clutched at his black coat as she lifted to stand on her toes in order to stare at his face closely. He was so much taller than her, and much older than she'd allowed herself to believe. Although she'd known him for the short length of six years, she'd never actually seen him in the flesh. Much like the majority of his people, he preferred to go about unseen. He was always there, but never visibly. Only a select few had ever been lucky enough to see one of the aptly named Underworlders. Even fewer have lived to tell the tales.

"It's a trick," he said, leaning over and touching her aching temple. "Can you hear him?"

"Who?"

Eisinth hummed, "That's a no..."

"What's going on? Why show up now of all times?"

He straightened and ran a hand through his silver hair as his eyes drifted to the far wall, "I fear we may not be safe here for much longer."

"I don't understand," Astrid whispered. "My head hurts... so much more with you nearby."

He lowered his red eyes to her and when she blinked, he covered her aching eye with a hand. "How about now?"

She hesitated, and then said, "No... not at all." The pain had subsided almost immediately, leaving her shocked and confused. "How did you do that?"

"The silk," he muttered, moving his hand back and staring at the glove on his hand. "It negates magic."

"Magic...? But I don't have magic."

"If not, then why are you still here? Your father sent your sisters away, why not you? Not the oldest, certainly not the smartest. The only promise you show is of growing old alone and-"

"You're not making me feel any better."

Eisinth chuckled softly. "Let me tell you a story," he took her hand and guided her to the bed, taking a seat and reclining back as she climbed into his lap like a child, "about a man named Alistair."

 

Once one of two of the most powerful men in existence, and the most demented. A gentleman, yet a savage. He would much rather tear a woman apart than take advantage of her, though he wouldn't be above partaking in her spilled blood.

He was a King, though not amongst humans despite his prior humanity. The countless years of torture and servitude he'd endured in his youth left him a pure bundle of madness that thrived off of agony. He had trained with the strongest and smartest of men, was force fed magic until his mind fractured from the weight. He was to be a weapon meant to destroy realms. A catalyst.

Anger gave way to understanding with his newfound knowledge, but docility also gave way to tenacity. His acquired strength and power melded with superior intellect and the little slave began to have fun. The sounds of pain and agony, the feel of wet blood on his dry fingertips, and the smell of death were his only few pleasures. But only for a short while. A witch hunt began, and he was at the core of it. Misleading and murdering millions of innocent people wrongly accused of possessing black magic. He was praised for his contributions, his own magical workings going unnoticed by blind followers. He was freed, praised, worshipped.

But his game would only last for so long before he was discovered for the monster he truly was.

Locked away from the world by his equal, his own beloved brother, he turned to torturing himself. Experimenting with immortality until hypothesis became actuality. With his inability to die, he broke free of his underground prison and began his hunt anew. Having obtained his ultimate goal, he was forced to acquire a new one: to become a God.

And he very near became one, until he set his eyes on the one prize he could never truly acquire: the gauntlet. The one instrument that could make his dreams come true.

Though madness was no stranger to the savage man, he would understand a whole different level of it through a loneliness unlike any he'd ever suffered before. Cursed to the confines of the gauntlet and forever losing his original body, he would be cut off from humanity for a thousand years.

 

"Only a thousand years?" Astrid stared down at her hands as Eisinth reached around her head, covering her aching eye with a black silk scarf. The pain diminished once more as he fastened the silk with a loose knot.

"Mhm."

"That seems oddly specific. How long has it been?"

"A thousand, give or take."

Astrid turned to stare up at him, but the silk prevented her left eye from seeing him and she was forced to turn the other way. Eisinth chuckled in response to her awkward blush, it would take time for her to get used to the lack of full peripheral vision. "So what happens now?"

He hummed curiously. "Now is when the prophecy comes to light."

"What prophecy?"

"The first heir of Odien's to inherit his magic will be the one to set his prisoner free." He held a finger up as he spoke, as if reciting an age-old prophecy that should have been common knowledge by now.

Astrid's nose twitched as she climbed out of his lap and ran a finger over the silk scarf. "Did you know I would have to wear this?"

"Why do you ask?"

"You conveniently had a scarf just large enough for me in your pocket?" She glanced back at him dully, and when he offered a shrug, she asked, "Where is he?"

"Who?"

"Alistair."

Eisinth stood with a sigh, "I came here today to make sure you never set him free."

"Today? Or when you first proposed Companionship to me?"

He couldn't remember a time when the girl hadn't been able to read him like a book. Now that she could actually see his face, she'd only be able to read him all the more.

"You're laughing at me?" She glared up at him, folding her arms over her small chest.

"Tell me, Astrid, what would you do if your father tried to kill you?"

She fidgeted anxiously, taking a step back as she processed the question. "Well... I would imagine I'd fight back."

"You answer too quickly," he pointed out.

"What do you mean?"

"You don't know how you would react if your father attacked you, because it hasn't happened yet, has it?" When she rolled her eyes, he said, "If you would like to know the true answer, all you must do is take the gauntlet."

"I don't know where it is," she said flatly, "so how can I take it?"

"I love you, Astrid," Eisinth said as he took her shoulder and stared down at her, "I would do anything for you, and so..."

"So?" When he turned away, she said, "A prophecy is a prophecy, right?"

"I don't understand what you're asking."

"It can't be avoided, it has to happen."

His red eyes turned down on her humorously as he said, "I've never heard you conform before."

She grabbed his arm and said, "I'm not afraid. Because no matter what the prophecy says, I will not do what I do not want to. Take me to the gauntlet and let me make the decision myself."

"Very well, but I implore you," he said as he vanished from sight, "do not make a deal with that monster."

 

The gauntlet practically radiated with ominous power, filtering the light of the sun through veils of shadow. The confines of the room were small, just large enough to house the gauntlet on a pedestal at the center and permit a single ring of observers to stand around it, if any such brave fools existed. The door slammed shut behind her and she was cast into a weak darkness. Opposite the pedestal, Eisinth appeared, arms folded and red eyes on the piece of black scaled armor of obsidian. His eyes glowed dimly in the darkness, courtesy of tapetum lucidum that granted night vision.

"Tell me, can you hear him now?" He implored, breaking the silence, and the girl's enthrallment with it.

Astrid crossed to the gauntlet and took it in her shaking hands, looking it over with her curious eye as she regained composure. She knew nothing of magic aside from what little her father used freely at court, and whatever she'd read in books, and so to actually feel it had temporarily rendered her bewitched. "It's too big for my hand." To be fair, it would have been too large for any humanoid she'd ever laid eyes on. It looked better suited for a golem.

"You don't hear him, then." He sounded both disappointed and pleased at once.

"Should I?" His silence was confirmation, though not the kind that struck excitement or filled her with dread. She lifted the gauntlet, searching the black scales with slit brown eyes, her small fingers carefully disturbing the links. "It feels so fragile..." She started to slip her hand inside, but Eisinth's calm tone kept her from making the mistake.

"Donning the gauntlet is the first step."

She set the gauntlet back down, but before she could turn away, a coldness wrapped around her thin shoulders. Her breath caught in her throat as a breathy chuckle filled her ear.

 

She was scared, her entire body shaking as his fingers brushed carefully against her skin. Not that he had room to judge, he was shaking as well. It had been so long since he'd felt or heard another person, since he'd seen a real person. Since he'd smelled one. And she could feel him, hear him, and judging by the wrinkle of her nose, she could smell him as well. But she couldn't see him. Interesting...

She backed away from the gauntlet, lifting her head to stare up at the grey-skinned elf she referred to as Eisinth.

"I'm scared..."

"Don't be," the elf said calmly. "I can protect you from anything."

Anything, huh?

He moved around her, taking in the silk scarf that covered her left eye. She stared right through him.

Could he protect her from the monster that stood right in front of her?

He leaned into her, his sharp teeth grazing her neck.

"Stop... can we leave?"

No.

"Yes."

That wasn't fair.

The elf crossed to her, took her arm and guided her out of the room.

 

The garden was illuminated with the midnight moon, the twinkling stars decorating the black sky like diamonds. The slumbering nature brought a stillness to the glowing garden that would have otherwise been the cheerful sounds of life. The only determinable sound that he could hear was the constant groan of the wooden swing hanging from the branches of the looming willow tree. Though they were alone, there was also the very distinct feeling in the back of his mind insisting that they were being observed.

"Lonely bird, sad little bird, sitting on his perch. Had his nest, and his love, smashed down from the birch," she sang quietly to herself, the tune drifting in the cool winds. "Nay, they say. Cause he's lost. Broke they say. Can't keep watchin' us."

"Astrid," Eisinth appeared before her, catching the swing by the thick, fraying ropes and cutting off her sad little tune.

"I could feel him," she whispered. "He was very careful, like he was afraid I would break. I can still feel him. Watching, from a distance."

"A thousand years of loneliness would make any man forget his strength. His predicament warrants caution after so long."

"But he tried to bite me."

"He is a monster," he reminded her. The swing reeled back as he released the thick ropes.

"But why would he feel the need to bite me? He could have just scratched me or done something vulgar, like a bandit or a savage would. Why bite me?"

"Because that was how he fed," Eisinth said. "Far be it for him to do the one thing that seems logical at a time of high stress."

"He's a vampire?" She was skeptical, naturally. Vampires didn't have magic, and that man, he clearly had magic. She had felt it, filtering through the room and compressing her small body as if it were in a vice.

Eisinth vanished, appearing moments later seated atop the large carved head of a statue. "What will you do?"

"I want to see him."

"You're not afraid?"

"I was," she admitted quietly, dragging her bare feet to stop the swing and cutting open her toes on sharp rocks in the process. A cool breeze rifled through her hair and she lifted a hand to the silk scarf. "But I want to see him. What he looks like."

"A monster," Eisinth reminded her once more, turning his head down to look at her from his great height.

"Regardless-"

"Alright," he said gently, "but do you realize that would require putting the gauntlet on?"

She stared down at her fingers, taking in the bruises that decorated them. Her painted nails were chipped and her knuckles scratched from hours of training. "Such a lonely bird he must be."

"Your sister arrives tomorrow."

"Which one?"

"How should I know?"

She smiled. He did know. He knew everything because even when she wasn't paying attention, he was. "You're not supposed to be here."

"Is that your rule?"

"Not mine," she whispered. "My father's. I want to leave."

"Then go."

But leaving would require courage. Willpower. She climbed to her feet and stuffed her hands into her pockets as she stared down at her decorative skirts. She wiggled her bloody toes in the gravel, freeing lose rocks with the movement. "Do you think he's hungry?"

Eisinth appeared beside her, walking silently at her side as she led the way back into the palace. "He has no body, sustenance is not a necessity. In fact, I'm not sure it would do much for him aside from perhaps altering his mood. You'd ultimately be feeding the gauntlet, which in turn would directly charge it with your magic and lend him temporary-"

"I understand how transmutations work," she said, keeping her tone calm as to avoid insulting the man. "I'm not interested in knowing what my magic can help him accomplish, but if he is hungry."

"A good outlook, considering magic is illegal, especially black magic." When given an inquisitive look, he elaborated. "Alistair is known as the sole father of necromancy."

"Necromancy? Is that how he accomplished vampirism?"

He hummed before saying, "Undoubtedly. He was initially the first, after all."

"I had no idea." Astrid returned to her bedroom, sinking back in her bed and running her fingers over the soft scarf. The countless candles inside of each lantern hanging from her ceiling flickered gently, illuminating her room and casting shadows.

"Goodnight," Eisinth said from his corner, where he reclined back into a pile of pillows. From his position, he'd be invisible to any intruders, even if he chose to stay visible.

"Good night," she whispered.

 

She sat before the gauntlet, her legs crossed and knee bouncing anxiously, filling the silence with the gentle tinkering of her jeweled skirts. She could feel his ominous presence, hear his occasional nonsensical mutterings, but she still couldn't see him. And she really wanted to see him. Every part of her being wanted her to put the gauntlet on just for the off-chance that it could give her the ability to see his supposed monstrous form. It was a burning desire that kept her rooted to the spot despite the late afternoon hour. She had yet to eat, and she'd been sought after all morning by her sibling. She should have been visiting with Fea like a doting sister, attending classes dutifully, behaving like a lady and not a semi-rebellious child. But here she was, being a stupid child that couldn't even make as simple a decision as this all by herself. Years of docility had seen her constantly seeking her father's approval, though not openly admitting or asking for it. Making her own life-altering decisions scared her.

"Tell me what to do," she finally said to the gauntlet, cutting into his scattered thought process.

I won't, he responded in her ear with a playful tease. She jumped and twisted around, but she couldn't see him. Good. She'd probably faint if she saw how close to her face he was at that very moment. His blackened fingers brushed her cheek and she shuddered from the chill.

"You have to. I'm a girl, that means someone must tell me what to do. I don't get a choice."

Hm...

She could feel his sharp claw tracing her jawline, pausing at the scarf. He was testing himself, learning his limits to see just how far he could go without losing control. She could feel his restraint slipping. After a thousand years of solitude, he was probably itching for human contact but too afraid of how to approach it.

Not with me.

"What do you mean?"

Put the gauntlet on, and you will always have a choice. For a moment, he could have sworn she was looking right at him. Into his green eyes with her scared stare.

And then she lifted a hand to the silk scarf and turned her face down. "He warned me you would try to strike a deal."

Alistair chuckled.

"What do you want?"

Freedom. But is that not what all men want? Freedom from burden, freedom from pain, freedom from servitude.

"Tch... it doesn't matter what they want, because once they obtain it, they realize that it's just an illusion," she snapped, curling her fingers in her loose skirts. "I'm free, but I'm not allowed to leave the palace," she pointed out. "I'm free to obey every rule my father puts in place. I'm free to do as I'm told."

You're free to run away.

"As are others who beg for freedom." Astrid laughed bitterly.

I'll follow you anywhere.

"You wouldn't have a choice," she pointed out dully. "Full circle," she drew a circle in the air with a poorly manicured finger before pointing to the gauntlet.

True, he mused. She was a clever girl, she would be useful. But much of her disobedience and distasteful outlook would have be corrected.

"What do you look like?"

I will show you.

"You will?"

If you put the gauntlet on. When she hesitated, he added, It is your choice.

She reached out and grasped the cold metal, "Are you hungry?"

What an odd question to ask.

"Not really. I know what you are."

Ah, so she has a sense of humor as well. He settled before her, mimicking her posture before leaning forward with his hands on his knees, bringing his face in close to hers. I am.

"I can feed you. I'm not afraid." He didn't respond and she had a pretty good idea it was because he was skeptical. She might have been a good liar for the most part, but he was having no problem reading her mind and figuring out the truth. She could feel him digging around inside of her head, sifting through not only her thoughts, but her memories as well. She hadn't even put the gauntlet on yet, and he was already getting comfortable. "If I do this for you, will you help me?"

Run away? He asked, his tone betraying the lack of attention he paid to her. He was too busy remembering her memories.

"I'm not going to break the curse. I won't set you free. You're a monster. I'll keep you locked away forever."

I was not aware that you were the possessive type.

At least he had a sense of humor, she could get used to that. "Will you protect me?"

If I must.

She slipped the gauntlet onto her small hand, marveling as the scaled links shuddered and reformed, shrinking in size until the entire piece of armor fit her small hand like a tailored glove. A sharp pain started in her head and she clutched at the scarf over her eye, hissing as she yanked it away to press a bare palm against the invisible wound.

It hurts less if you scream.

She couldn't risk screaming. That would mean someone would hear, and then her father would know. Who knew what would follow next?

Will you keep your word?

"What?" His blackened hand cupped her chin and forcibly lifted her head until her brown eyes found his tattooed face. A long and thin black line stretched under his tired eyes, beginning and ending at the outlying edge of cheekbones. Just under the black line below his left eye were three small dots almost easily missed if not for the close quarters, each one a symbol for something she was sure wasn't pleasant.

She jerked back, shrieking as she fell back on the hard floor. "You... you're-"

Hungry. He grabbed her arm and pulled it to his lips, sinking his sharp teeth into her flesh with a bite.

"A savage," she hissed at him, her hand still clutching her eye as she watched him. His shaggy black hair was a wild mess framing his face and brushing against her arm coldly.

He paused to lift his mouth and mutter, The correct term you are looking for is Fehr.

"Cannibal!" His teeth sank into her arm once more and she sighed. Given enough time, she was finally capable of seeing beyond shock and pulled together enough self-respect and dignity to realize she'd offended him. "But you're not, are you?" He didn't need to respond for her to know the answer. She pulled in her leg and leaned an elbow on her knee to support her chin as she leaned forward. So close, she could smell the feint scent of lavender and smoke. "A cannibal... The Fehr are cannibals, but you're not. You're a vampire." A chuckle escaped from between his bloody lips. "Are you going to kill me?"

He lifted his head to stare up at her through his tangled hair, Do you want me to?

"Not really, no."

Then shut up.

She wrinkled her nose in displeasure but kept her mouth shut. At least until he finished feeding and turned his back on her. He was dressed in loose clothes, old, belonging to another time long before this one. "Tell me what you look like."

Can't you see me as you are?

"Your back is to me. And... I want to hear you say it. I want to know what I'm seeing is actually you and not just an illusion. What color is your hair? What color are your eyes, your skin? Do you have any scars? How many? How many hearts do you have?"

He muttered something inaudible under his breath.

"I deserve to know these things, don't you think? Considering I fed you at the expense of my own health."

Black, green, brown. Yes. Hundreds. None.

"Can you look at me so I can see for myself now?"

Such an odd little thing. He turned to her, once again mimicking her posture right down to the carefully emotionless expression on her round face.

"I thought vampires were ashen," she admitted with a whisper. Her fingers twitched as she hesitated to reach out and touch him. His skin was tan, a tad pasty, but still a solid tan. And lined with countless scars that warped the otherwise solid black tattoos wrapped around what little of his muscled arms were exposed. His strikingly green eyes were ringed black and his mouth was parted in a downturned scowl, exposing rows of sharp teeth still dripping with her blood. He lifted a hand to pick up the silk scarf, holding it out to her with blackened fingers. A clear sign of forbidden magic. But rather than taking the scarf, she pressed her fingers to his face, feeling the cold ethereal flesh for herself. His eyes narrowed, though practiced tolerance kept him from acting on his instinctive rage. It was obvious by his expression that he did not like being touched without first instigating it.

When she accepted the scarf, he caught her wrist and clamped his cold fingers around her punctured flesh. I feel as though if your father saw your wounds, he would not react pleasantly.

"He doesn't look at me long enough to notice my injuries," she muttered. "He's too busy telling me what to do."

What will you do now? He dropped her arm, exposing a freshly healed wrist no longer spotted with her blood. As she examined Alistair's handiwork, he took the scarf and leaned over her, wrapping it around her head loosely. When she lifted her head to watch his face, he grinned sharply. Despite her blood on his lips, his breath strongly smelled of lavender, a nice scent for one's breath. You have a choice, he said in order to regain her full attention, I told you, 'put the gauntlet on, and you will always have a choice'.

"Will you... take me away from here?"

I will do nothing. It is up to you. He sat back, searching her face. I am not your savior. I am not your friend. I provide you with power and you provide me with comfort. That is all.

"Comfort?"

I will kill you. Do you know that?

The growing fear in her stomach was changing, warping into something else. Bravery, perhaps? She couldn't rightly tell. "You can't. If I die, you go back to being inanimate."

Inanimate? Even without you, I am still me. You are not a necessity, just a luxury.

There was a lie in those words, and she could hear it. A thousand years of solitude ensured that he viewed her as a necessity in more than one way. "Can anyone else see you?"

You are not strong enough for me to materialize beyond your sight.

"Meaning?"

Not directly, no. Only you can see me. Though reflective surfaces may be able to pass my image on to others.

She climbed to her feet and rubbed the side of her neck as she nodded to the door, "Then we should go..."

You are not afraid?

"Of what?" He didn't have to answer her, because the cold scales of the obsidian gauntlet reminded her of it's now permanent presence. "I suppose there's no way to hide you?"

None that I am willing to share.

"But you could, couldn't you?" His silence was answer enough. Without further conversation to keep her temporarily distracted, she was forced to face the world as what she now was: a thief.

Assuming she was caught, that is.

She made it to her bedroom safely, avoiding the eyes of the court and even her normally obsessive sister, Fea. She locked the door and sank back against the hard wood, emitting a pained sigh as she pressed a hand to her covered eye.

"Would I be remiss to say that I knew you would be tempted?"

She lifted her head as Eisinth appeared, reclined on her bed, arms behind his head and red eyes taking in the hanging lanterns. He was dressed for leisure, but still regal as ever. Whoever this strange man was, she was beginning to think he was incredibly important, and therefore incredibly dangerous. "Willpower was never my strongest quality."

"What did he promise you?"

Now that she thought about it, he hadn't promised a thing. She'd simply let him talk her into putting the gauntlet on. "He tricked me," she gasped, her face burning red when Alistair's laughter filled her head.

"As I thought," Eisinth sat up and exhaled a long yawn. "Are you prepared to face what happens next?"

"I don't know. What happens next?" She hugged her knees to her chest and rested her chin on her arm as she examined the gauntlet. The pure black reflected the burning candlelight, exposing intricate detailing on each individual scale. It was beautiful, for such a disgusting weapon.

"The moment your father senses the gauntlet's power, you will become the prey."

"Why?"

"In order to free Alistair, you must let him drink Odien's blood."

"Good," she muttered, and when Eisinth turned his red eyes on her, she added, "I never intended on freeing him."

"He will torture you," he said flatly. "He will do whatever it takes to make you give him what he wants."

She wanted to disagree, she wanted to believe that Alistair wasn't a monster... but after seeing him for herself, she couldn't be so sure. His entire body practically seethed with a madness like nothing she'd ever seen before. Everything about him screamed wild, dangerous, evil. He was the living embodiment of all that was evil in this world and there was no doubt in her mind that he would take every ounce of that madness out on her. "I think that... perhaps I should get some rest."

"You are quite pale," Eisinth agreed, vanishing as the girl climbed to her feet and approached the bed. "I shall ensure you remain undisturbed."

 

Accompanied with slumber was the downward spiral into a pit of blackness unlike any she'd ever imagined or witnessed before. It consumed the warmth, robbed her of confidence and left her floating naked and purely vulnerable. All around her, a cold nothingness wrapped around her and silenced everything but her own beating heart and loud intake of oxygen. She felt sick and tired and afraid, but more so she felt very, very alone. But safe, strangely enough. Alone and safe... Being alone meant being safe?

Tell me, Astrid. Is there anything you wish to see?

"The stars," she said, her voice weak.

A brilliant glitter of diamonds formed around her, filling the cold darkness with twinkling beauty.

More.

"The sun. Two of them."

The distant darkness exploded with sunlight, a set of round orbs of fire just out of reach. They created a warmth that stole her breath away.

What else?

"The grass... I want to feel the grass again."

She fell, landing in a pained heap on cold, wet grass. She sat up, wrapping her arms around her naked chest. But shyness wouldn't keep her from what she wanted now, not while she was so close to obtaining everything imaginable. "And trees... I want to see trees. Lots of them."

The world, in all it's entirety, rumbled as the trees erupted through the cold ground, stabbing up into the diamond sky with branches thick with unnaturally colored foliage.

"And I want an ocean. With a ship all my own. A mountain and a city. Sand... I want to feel hot sand and frozen snow at the same time." She climbed to her feet, spinning in a slow circle as a world erupted around her, building up from a vast nothingness into a glorious fairytale of impossibilities. "A fountain. Filled with sparkling water."

It formed before her, a beautiful woman made of stone spilling water from a flat, wide basin in her perfectly carved hands. Her lovely face was set serenely, but her eyes were carved to betray a hint of fear.

"Caverns, underground mazes of stone with no end. And clouds. I want clouds that I can touch."

The ground grew hollow beneath her feet and sweeping clouds rolled over the grass, through the trees and the city. Rolling over the sea, the sand and snow, filling everything with a white chill.

"A home."

He appeared before her, hovering in the darkness, his knees bent just enough to keep his bare toes from touching the ground.

"I want a home where I am not afraid..."

His hand lifted to touch her cheek, sharp black nails careful to avoid nicking her fragile skin. I can't give you that.

She nodded, but he surprised her with a unique ensemble. No dresses, no skirts, no stockings or chest-crushing bustiers. Just a pair of loose trousers and a sleeveless blouse loosely fitted to her chest. She stared down at herself, shocked but not displeased. The scarf formed over her eye, obstructing a majority of her vision but easing a pain she hadn't quite noticed.

Everything else I have to offer is yours for the taking, but I cannot give you a home.

"Why give me all of this?"

I need you to never want to leave.

"Eventually-"

No, he said sharply. I can create anything for you. Any one. I need you here, you cannot leave. You'll have everything you want right here.

"But it won't be the same as the real thing. I would notice the differences."

He vanished.

Astrid, unsure of what to do next, crossed to the fountain and sat down on the stone edge, feeling the cool water with her fingertips. "Fish... I've never seen fish before."

The water rippled, revealing a rainbow school of tiny fish flittering beneath the surface. They darted away when she dared poke the cold surface above their tiny bodies.

"What is your real name?"

Who is to say 'Alistair' is not my real name?

She giggled. It was harder to hide her emotions in this world. Whatever this world was. "Because you don't look like an Alistair. You look like a savage. A Fehr. You talk with their accent, I bet you even believe in their savage Gods."

Ata'halne'. An attempt to deter her from talk of religion, and it worked judging by the tilt of her head.

"You have a savage name?"

Hm... am I a savage to you?

"I don't know," she admitted with a whisper. "You can read my mind, can't you? You know I don't view even them as such."

You say the title out of habit.

"I have never met your people, I only know what my father told me. He's so deathly afraid that they would steal me from him. And you have, it seems." Alistair's dull laughter emanated from the surrounding darkness. "Your people must-"

My people, he mused as he appeared beside her, stretched out on the stone edge with his head gently in her lap. I will have you know now, if you intend on using my name to gain you favor with 'my people', you will be sorely disappointed. I am viewed as accursed amongst even them.

"But I want to see their homes."

And you shall. Here. But not in person. Throughout the vast expanse of forest sprouted innumerable leather tents, painted with odd symbols and images, the ground outside of the flaps peppered with protective red sands. Small pits of fire silently ignited with puffs of blackened smoke, but the largest bonfire formed with an explosion of sound at the core of the camp.

Tell me, why is it your heart races? He sat up, rolling to place his hands on either sides of her thin legs. His face inched closer, his wild green eyes staring into her exposed eye.

She jerked her head to the side, a blush tinting her cheeks.

Ah, you find me appealing.

"What did you expect? I'm at the age where most fathers begin marrying their daughters off. My father refuses any offers to my hand, he keeps me locked away and does not allow my face to be seen by the public. Of course I'd be naturally taken by men who offer me a way out of my life of solitude."

Makes sense. Though I had no idea you were attracted to older men.

"Older? There is no way you're older than me by a few years," she said as she turned to look back at him. At her words, he flew back, holding his arms out before him to examine their age.

That is troublesome, he muttered. I admit I was not an old man when I was cursed, but I was not quite so young that a child would consider me an option.

"How old were you?"

Much older than this.

She stood and approached him, examining his face more closely, "How can you be so sure?"

He took his time to think of an answer to her question, and when she grew visibly impatient, he finally answered, Call it woman's intuition.

"That makes no sense," she said flatly.

No, it makes perfect sense. Gender holds no meaning to me now that I've no body. The boundaries set in place by Kings and Emperors are meaningless to one without the proper 'devices'.

Astrid grimaced. "You've been like this for a thousand years. What's to say you weren't actually female?"

I strictly remember being of the male persuasion, he chuckled, moving in close to press his chest against hers. When her face ignited a bright red, his grin grew vicious as he wrapped an arm around her waist. See?

Astrid shoved at his chest, but his arm held fast around her small waist. "Stop doing that."

I assure you, I am not a woman.

"I believe you," she hissed at him, finally breaking free when she dug her elbow into his chest.

Alistair turned away, staring off into the starry sky with a distant expression.

"Are you alright?"

I must rectify this.

"No!" When he glanced back at her humorously, she said, "I don't want to fall asleep and speak with an old man every night. Stay the way you are."

Very well, Alistair said with a grin before staring back up at the sky. I need you to stay here.

"Why?"

He turned to stare down at her once more. I cannot be alone again. A thousand years was long enough.

"What would happen if I did stay?"

I will kill you.

Astrid arched a brow before turning away and waving a hand dismissively at him. "You're very convincing," she muttered. "Look, Ata-"

His green eyes widened at the use of his real name, exposing both a fear and madness that mingled in his sharp tone, Don't tempt me to rip your throat out.

She shrank back from him, but when he approached, he didn't lay a hostile finger on her. His hand lifted and curled in her wild hair, and she grew increasingly aware of just how dangerously unstable this man really was. If she wasn't more careful, she really would die.

I told you my name so that you could have something that is considered strictly mine, but I did not give you permission to use it.

"Alright," she squeaked.

He dropped his hand, his sharp teeth exposed with a scowl. Wake up.

"What?"

But he didn't get a chance to repeat himself. Soon, she was falling through the ground and crashing down into her bed, bolting upright with a panicked gasp. The darkness was chased away by the multitude of burning lanterns above her head casting a dim glow of colors along the walls and curtains.

"A nightmare?"

She turned to find Eisinth reclined in his corner. He watched her, his red eyes filled with feigned curiosity. She lowered her face and rubbed the side of her head with the cold tips of her gauntleted fingers. "Yes... something like that." She climbed out of the bed, scooping up a layered robe as she crossed the carpeted floor.

"Tell me, kor, what is it you want?"

She paused at the door, clutching the robes to her chest. Ever since equipping the gauntlet, she'd felt a growing fear inside of her courtesy of Eisinth's promise of her father's inevitable reaction. It gnawed at her with paranoia and reminded her that sooner or later, he would learn of the theft, and if Eisinth was right, as he normally was, that meant he would attempt to kill her in order to return the gauntlet to its resting place. Although it had only been a single day, it felt like an eternity of fear and danger had already passed. "To feel safe."

"I can give you that," he said confidently. "I can take you away from here."

"Yes, perhaps you can," she said before shoving open the door and disappearing into her private bath.

 

Astrid stood, staring at her reflection in the fogged mirror anxiously. The layered robe hugged her slender figure warmly, her wet brown hair plastered to her scalp. "Safe, huh? I wonder..."

That is something that I cannot give you, Alistair said, appearing behind her and viewing her reflection curiously.

She lifted her stare, taking in his fully tangible reflection with surprise. He nearly caught her staring, until she dropped her face in shame. Only she could see him as he was, but it appeared as though a mirror, or any reflective surface for that matter, could easily capture him and expose him to the world. She turned around to face him, taking in his tattooed and scarred face with a nervous once-over.

You're still so young.

"I'm fifteen years."

And yet you look much younger.

"Is that a problem?"

Yes, much too young for the pain you will endure.

"You were younger, were you not?"

Much. But I do not want you to suffer the same fate.

"I was under the impression that you hated me."

On the contrary, he said, stroking her wet hair with a careful hand. I find you entertaining, therefore worthy of my protection.

"You view me as a pet."

And a very obedient one at that.

She pushed around him, leaving the hot bath and returning to find Eisinth examining her bookshelf silently. "Do you like to read?"

"I'm not particularly fond of the activity," Eisinth admitted, "but I have a friend who loves to."

"I would get along great with them," she said as she crossed to her closet.

"Good," Eisinth said, picking a book and flipping through the pages carelessly, "because I intend on introducing you to him."

Despite her better judgement, Astrid chose to wear one of the countless extravagant dresses that had gathered more dust than wear over the short year she'd owned them. If she was going to face trouble in whatever form it happened to take this day, at least she would look her best. The scales of the gauntlet rattled when she started to pull her hair up, and she hesitated to look down at the infernal device.

Never put your hair up.

"Why? Do you like it down?" When he didn't respond, she dropped her hands.

"Do you intend on fighting him?"

"Do you?" She asked, turning to face Eisinth. He approached her slowly, offering a nod as he wound the silk scarf to sit snugly over her eye. "My father trained me, yes, but I only know a fraction of what he knows. I am no match for him."

You have my power at your disposal. You can fight, it is merely a matter of whether you have the confidence or the knowhow.

"I told you, I can protect you from anything."

She accepted his hand when he offered it to her. Although the man offered an incredible amount of benefits to being his charge, there was also the inevitable fact that she was an assassin's loose end. Once he no longer saw a use for her, she would be just another victim. "Then protect me from you."

He chuckled as he led her out of the room and into the white hall. "I'm afraid that is something you must ask another to do."

It was funny, for the most part. If she hadn't of been worried about being stabbed in the back at every turn of the winding halls, she might have laughed. The bustling maids took no notice of the odd grey-skinned man that guided the girl by her small hand, more than likely out of fear of causing a raucous that would bring attention to their otherwise insignificant lives. He was a rumored assassin, his very existence stemmed around slaughtering people like cattle for the sake of ruffling a few feathers. When Eisinth chose not to be invisible, it was clear that those around him preferred acting as if he were invisible.

It wasn't until they arrived in the throne room that they were met with some sort of unfamiliar treatment, and that came in the form of Odien's pale blue eyes narrowing not on the girl's Companion, but on the scarf obscuring a majority of her pretty round face. Her naturally somber behavior grew rigid, and then his judgmental stare lowered to the hand she absentmindedly tucked behind her back. He climbed to his feet, his white hands tensing at his sides as he descended the short step to ground level.

"Dearest Astrid," he mused, his statuesque appearance flaking away in powdered layers to expose a human tone, "I hope you do not intend on doing something you may later regret." The soft powder caking his hair fell away in thin particles, revealing the deep black locks beneath. Of her entire life, she'd never once seen her father in his true colors, and so the severity of the situation weighed down heavily on her shoulders with each step closer he took.

"Where is Fea? She mustn't see us behaving like this." She glanced around slowly, taking large turns to make up for the lack of visibility. She didn't want to think about how horrible her depth perception might have been, and hoped to the high Gods that her father wouldn't choose to launch any projectiles her way. She'd no doubt be skewered where she stood, if that were the case.

Eisinth placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Step away from my daughter," Odien demanded, officially acknowledging the man.

"He is my Companion," Astrid said carefully, though she shook Eisinth's hand off of her shoulder regardless. She could feel the tension thickening in the room and Eisinth's presence wasn't helping, but she wasn't about to tell him to leave. As far as she was concerned, he was the only form of definitive protection she had if her father did choose to attack her over some ridiculous prophecy.

"Companion?"

The way he said it implied danger, and not toward the elf alone. Astrid reached over and took Eisinth's sleeve, and as if sensing her discomfort, he planted a heavy hand on her head.

"I had hoped your Companion to be of the Ilvatari, not a filthy Underworlder," Odien's tone lowered as he turned his back on his daughter, finally returning to the girl's original question with a wave of his manicured hand. "Fea has already left for the day. She is out shopping with her child."

It was obvious he was disappointed in Fea. She had always been a frivolous girl that took advantage of their father's wealth and power. But Fea's absence didn't make Astrid feel any safer. Without Fea present, there would be no witnesses or added security. Though she lacked proper magic, just as the whole of Astrid's siblings, she loved her little sister dearly and would have protected her wholeheartedly from their father.

Your Companion may have more power than any other of his race, but he is still no match for your father.

"What should I do?"

Run.

Astrid turned her stare to Eisinth, taking in his narrowed red eyes that followed Odien around the court. "We must leave, Alistair fo-" she was cut off as Eisinth took her shoulder and shoved her to stand behind him. An eruption of energy deafened her temporarily and ignited sparks across the floor. When she recovered enough to gauge her surroundings, she found Odien reeling back, clutching his face as blood trickled between his fingers. A few seconds passed and then his hand dropped to expose no injury.

"You dare keep me from her? She is my property!"

Eisinth's mouth turned up in a playful smirk. "A Lord who views his daughter as a possession. Why am I not surprised?"

Odien's fists crackled with energy as he stalked toward the man. "Get away from her-"

"Stop!" Astrid interrupted sharply. "That's enough!"

Odien hesitated to charge a second time, but Eisinth braced nonetheless. His hands practically sparked with magic, burning away his gloves to expose odd white symbols lighting up across his grey skin.

"I am leaving," she said, and when Odien tensed, she held a hand up and added, "I will never come back. I have no intentions of breaking the curse."

"And I have no intentions of allowing you to leave," Odien said in response. "The gauntlet belongs to me."

"Alistair is a man, not a possession!"

Careful now. We mustn't lie.

"He's already corrupted your mind."

"No, that's not-" once again Eisinth's powerful arm cut her off as he shoved her back. This time she watched as he lifted his arm to block Odien's fist, while his other slammed up into the man's stomach with a powerful crackle of energy. Odien hunched over, but his pain was temporary. He healed his injuries just as quickly as they formed, and he didn't hesitate to take full advantage of this unique skill. He retaliated with a sharp jab that sent Eisinth stumbling back, and with a snap of his fingers the hall erupted in flames.

How cruel. Tell me, are you certain your mother's death was not at the hands of your father?

"Yes..." Astrid gasped, shocked by her father's use of her greatest weakness. "It's... it's so hot..." She shrank back, clutching her arms to her chest as she struggled to keep from hyperventilating.

Eisinth charged him, but he was easily batted aside with a swipe of Odien's burning hand. The flames increased, drawing a thick line of burning embers between Companion and scared little girl. While the Underworlder struggled to compose himself beneath the buckled remains of the throne, Odien turned on his daughter.

"I had hoped that if I kept you close, you would have at least confided in me before resorting to treason on your own."

"I can't breathe..."

Allow me to breathe for you.

Oxygen filled her lungs with a strange chill, the strong scent of lavender filling her nose and overpowering the thick smoke.

"I hate that my only heir should be the very one meant to be my undoing, but alas, everyone dies eventually."

She shrank back from him as he stalked closer, but the fire surrounded her in a burning inferno. Despite Alistair's assistance, she was only growing weaker by the second, and solely because of the fear festering inside of her. The heat bore down on her, draining her of bravery as well as strength until her knees wobbled beneath her small weight. "I just want to be free," her voice shook with her quivering jaw.

Don't let him kill you. Don't let him take you away from me!

"Truly a shame." He reached out and curled his hand in the ruffled collar of her elegant dress, pulling her in close as he said, "To kill such a perfect daughter prematurely over something so trivial as a prophecy." His hand tightened into a fist, forming a blade of sheer rippling energy formed of his own willpower. The terror in her exposed eye made him hesitate, but when she grasped at his wrist with the gauntlet and the chill of the monster inside reached him, he buried the blade in her stomach.

She cried out to him and when he dropped her, she clutched at her stomach, feeling the blood spill between her shaking fingers.

"I will not have that monster back in my realm," he said darkly as he turned away.

"Don't... don't leave me," she begged, but with a flash of white light, Odien was gone. And so were the flames. Panic and fear were replaced with horror laced with desperate realization. She remembered Alistair's healing touch. "Alistair... help me."

Now why should I do that? He appeared before her, approaching with a slow stride as Eisinth rushed to her side. Her vision was darkening, he could feel her heart slowing, it was only a matter of seconds before she lost consciousness.

Her head lolled as the elf pulled her into his arms, cradling her like a child. "Alistair..."

Now now, little flame, I would not let you go out so soon. He knelt down before her, a twisted grin forming on his face as she lost consciousness.

Author's Note

This is in no way a finished project, therefore constructive criticisms are appreciated.
Public input is often taken to heart.