Chapter Text
Adela moved on silent feet to the small lake, the near dusk gloom like bright midday to her inhuman eyes. In this land of horses, watery maidens and the fools that worshipped both, lakes were excellent places for her to hunt, be they downtrodden peasants coming to fetch water or one of those ironclad fools stopping to pray. Adela honestly hoped for the peasant, the last knight she tried to feed upon wore a holy symbol to his Lady. Adela had heard the arrogant twat had told a story of a great beast as the reason for his bruises and wounds in a nearby local tavern, she was there looking for new prey, Night forbid he admit he was fooled by a pretty blonde emerging from the lake.
The vampire’s musings were interrupted by the sounds of voices and feet, many of them. She stepped back, more into the shadows. If this was some rural celebration at least one fool would get drunk enough to make easy prey.
A well dressed couple led a procession of grim faced and rag wearing peasants.Clearly the couple were Nobles, the Nobles of this land holding themselves so much higher than the peasants you’d think they were different species, like elves and dwarves, and not both humans born on the same soil.
Behind the Nobles, at the head of the peasants, was a slab of flesh and muscle of a man pushing forward a small wheelbarrow and in the wagon was a very human-shaped bundle of rags tied up.
Great Night, they are going to drown someone? Bloody water logged fools, good way to ruin a water source.
“Tonight, good people of Dreux, of the great Duchy of Brionne!” The Noble male, a strong enough looking fellow, as all these Bretonnian Nobles tended to be,but his eyes were greedy, with a rounding middle that wasn't due to age and he was bedecked in finery; the signs of a man who enjoyed all the finer things in life and would rather sit at the dinner table rather than a war table.
“Today we present one of fallen grace to the judgement of our Gracious Lady!” The Noble motioned to the big man who hauled the bundle of rags, the clink and clank telling Adela the bundle was tied with chains, to its feet, the bundle now easily discerned as a feminine adult, and then removed the hood from its head.
Adela would have blushed if she was still capable. When she still drew breath as the living she always preferred the softer looks of her fellow women, and felt shame for it. After her Sire, a vampire of the great Neferata’s bloodline, gave her the Blood Kiss, she learned there was no shame in loving her fellow women, the only kindness her Sire had given Adela. And this young woman, only a few years into her adulthood if Adela guessed, was quite pretty, in her own way. Her face, with its delicate nose and high cheekbones, was youthful even with the gauntness of recent hard times, and with fresh bruises that could not be blamed on the rough ride in the wheelbarrow. She couldn’t tell the woman’s hair colour, not only was it filthy but cut short, haphazardly, like a child with shears had done it. Common tactic to ‘other’ a ‘guilty’ party, cutting hair or shaving off a beard, dressing them in rags and covering them in filth.
“Do you have anything to say in your defence, Joceline?” The Noble pig turned to the woman.
She, Joceline, glared at the man before turning the peasants, “Good people of Dreux, you know me, I have been there to celebrate your triumphs and mourn your losses, and you have been with me to celebrate the birth of my children and mourned with me the death of my husband, your good and kind lord Raoul, before Gaston filled your heads with lies of his cowardice. You know I would not turn to the Dark Powers, not even to save my children from the illness that threatened to take them from me. I made a medicine from the very nature nourished by the Lady-” her words were interrupted by the man back handing her so she fell onto the rickety dock they were on.
“Listen to her! Instead of begging for forgiveness from the Lady, she protects her crimes with lies. The Ruinous Powers have rooted themselves deep into her heart and soul, perhaps she even infected my dear brother to make him a coward! Lift her.” The great lug of muscle lifted the woman so she faced the man, who spoke so softly the others on the dock other than Joceline, and Adela with her supernaturally sharp ears, could not hear, “You really made this too easy, give my regards to my naive trusting brother when you reach Mor's Gardens.”
“YOU BASTARD!” Joceline roared and somehow lunged at the man, Adela guessed this was Gaston, surprising him and the muscle bound brute, who yanked her back like a hound on the leash, “I WILL TEAR YOUR THROAT OUT WITH MY TEETH! I WILL HAUNT YOU TO THE END OF YOUR DAYS!!!!” Joceline screamed.
“And thus her true nature is displayed!” Gaston shouted to the crowd who shouted insults at Joceline. He gave her one last smirk, “May the Lady grant her the peace in death she could not have in life.” And with that the brute threw Joceline a distance into the lake.
As soon as the woman hit the water Adela was slipping soundlessly under the surface herself, making her way to the struggling Joceline. By the time the vampire reached the mortal woman the struggles and bubbles had all but ended. Pressing her lips to Joceline’s she pushed the breath she had taken before diving into the water into the other woman’s lungs. There was a jerk of surprise from Joceline as she tried to look at Adela in the murky water.
Quickly as she could Adela hauled the too light woman, the chains making up over half her weight, to her hidden shadowy portion of shore, thankfully Gaston and his peasants had already left by then, impatient fools. Even with Adela's unnatural speed Joceline had lost consciousness by the time Adela had dragged her to the surface, but her pulse, weak as it was, still thudded in her veins.
Adela pushed the thoughts of how sweet her blood would taste and went about pushing the water from Joceline’s lungs. Soon the young woman was coughing and gasping, vomiting up water.
“Are you the Lady of the Lake?” Joceline gasped, pretty blue eyes looking at her in wonder.
Adela barked out a laugh, “No child, if I was I would have scared the manners and honour back into those fools.” Adela had been tempted to use some magic to make herself rise from the lake in some ethereal gown carrying Joceline, but she had no doubt a man pretending to be a pious Lord like Gaston had at least one symbol of his watery Goddess on his person.
Why am I saving her? She’d be better as a meal, I have brought her into a life of hiding away, of constant travel…I am an old fool, Adela freed Joceline with a quick snapping of the chains, before helping her to her feet, carefully steadying her, “Come, I have a camp nearby, let's get you warm.”
Joceline watched the woman, who introduced herself as Adela; sounded like an Imperial name, but although her accent sounded similar to that of the Imperials she had met, it was slightly different, like her native tongue was a cousin of Reikspiel, so Joceline couldn’t assume this woman's origins. She was painfully beautiful, long blonde hair like dark gold and green eyes that could look through a person into their very soul, it was no wonder Joceline thought she was the Lady of the Lake. Her face flushed hotly remembering how her soft lips had felt on hers. Lips that were too cold.
Joceline also noticed Adela only breathed before she spoke, no she wasn't not staring at her breast. Her father had made sure all his children were well educated, despite the objection of his peers, so Joceline knew of vampires, creatures of the night that fed on the blood of the living, wicked and evil undead things that were turned away by the faithful.
The images of pale fanged monsters from the manuscript did not match the woman who pulled her from the lake and from the jaws of death, brought her to her camp where Adela’s very much living chestnut gelding waited patiently, made a fire with some difficulty, like it was a skill she had long forgotten, and then busied making tea.
“Apologies for the slim pickings, tea is all I have at the moment.” Adela smiled apologetically as she handed the warm tin mug to Joceline.
“That is quite alright, I suppose you have a mostly liquid diet anyway.” Joceline froze when she realised what she had just said and then closed her eyes to brace herself, Merde. I have just made myself the main course for sure.
Instead of feeling fangs on her neck and hearing a monstrous growl, pleasant laughter filled Joceline’s ears instead. Adela was laughing, a warm happy sound, not what one would expect of a creature given unlife by foul magics.
“You are a clever one my dear, what gave me away?”
“Well your lips were cold.” Joceline blushed hard and added quickly, “You also only took in breath when you were about to speak. In the future you may want to practise breathing if you have to deal with mortals.”
Adela’s golden eyebrows went up, impressed, “You will have to forgive me, it has been a long time since I talked with a mortal who wasn’t drunk or desperate for this long, do not worry, you are not about to be my dinner tonight.”
“Why not?” Joceline felt embarrassed how insulted her tone was.
Another laugh from Adela, “While I’m sure you are as sweet as the finest wines your lands has to offer, I have a soft spot for women who have been greatly wronged. And considering Gaston, I assume that piglet was Gaston, all but confessed he had wronged you, you fit the bill. I would like to hear more of your story, if you are willing.”
Joceline took a long sip of her too strong tea and nodded, “Gaston is my late husband's younger brother, they were twins actually.They are..were the youngest sons who were made to split lands meant for one lord to rule. While my husband, Raoul, was a good, honest and perhaps too trusting man, Gaston is greedy, lying, and a sneaky rat.” Joceline hadn’t loved Raoul like ladies loved the knights in the stories, but he was kind, gentle and a good father to their two children. They were happy, until…
“Gaston claimed my husband had tried to flee from the battle he died in. Swearing it to the Lady, along with some of his most loyal knights, was enough to make a magistrate agree with him. It was enough for him to sue for much of my husband’s holdings leaving us with barely anything but the land under our feet, so that I had to choose between buying grain in the winter so my people wouldn’t starve and paying doctors for my sick children. I prayed to the same Lady Gaston swore upon to heal my Isabella and Rupert, I thought she answered my prayers when I found a book on medicines in my husband’s library. But no.. Gaston saw my children’s ‘miraculous’ recovery, if he did not have a hand in their illness and my husband’s death I will lay a golden egg, and claimed I had turned to Chaos to save them. Swore on the Lady again and the villagers, who had thanked me for the grain only a few months before, now called me witch, ‘testified’ about my wicked doings, either bullied or bought to do so by Gaston no doubt, spat on me and my children and watched gleefully as..” Words stuck in her throat like dry bread, her lips starting to tremble, “Gaston said their souls needed to be cleansed.. It was the only way…” The words fell away like the mug from her numb fingers as the grief hit her anew. She had screamed and wailed during and after, but she only had a few short hours to grieve before she had been readied for her own execution.
Joceline wasn’t sure how long she wailed and sobbed, her throat raw long before she wore herself out. When she finally had worn herself out, she became very aware that a too cold very feminine body held her, gently stroking her head, humming softly. Joceline flushed hot, purely from embarrassment at her emotional display, surely, and carefully pushed away from the other woman, wiping snot and tears from her face, “I am so sorry-” she squeaked.
“Do not apologise, what you have gone through I would not wish on my worst enemy.” There was a soft comfort in Adela voice, and something else Joceline could not recognise
Joceline nodded then fixed the vampire with a firm look, “I have a request to make, my lady.”
Adela snorted, “I am no lady, but go on.”
“I request your aid in getting revenge on the murderer of my children and probably my husband, in return I will serve you in any way you wish, to do things your condition may make difficult and to be fed upon if you require it.”
“You realise accepting my aid, especially for vengeance, will damn you in the eyes of your Goddess forever more?”
Joceline laughed bitterly, “She is no goddess of mine, not anymore.If She comes to me at the end of my days, it will be Her that has to answer to me, for the damning of my husband and the death of my children with her silence
Adela chuckled darkly, Joceline noticing her fangs for the first time then, “Oh we are going to have a grand time together.”
Adela wasn’t sure when it happened, sometime over the last four years between lessons in sword fighting , Joceline had already learned the basics at her father's insistence, the lessons ending with his sudden death, sneaking as well as any mouse or rat, alchemy as they discussed how to wreak vengeance on the pig Gaston, but she had fallen hard for Joceline, heart and soul. And to her great joy, her raven haired love had felt the same.
It had been adorable the first time Adela had suggested sex, the brunette turning a bright crimson and fumbling over her eager agreement, once Adela explained that sex had other uses other than making babies, and that two women could engage in it. Every squeal of delight and whimper of need had thrilled Adela, and feeding on her love had made it all the better, but she made sure to only feed lightly, and infrequently though. Adela should have known her happiness was to be short-lived.
It had been a night like any other, when Joceline had seen Gaston, fatter but with still the same arrogant baring, entering a brothel on the Bretonnian and Estailian border. They both agreed this was the best chance to get her revenge, even as unease settled in the pit of Adela’s stomach.
It had started off well, Joceline had snuck into the bedroom Gaston slept with his whore while Adela had distracted his three bodyguards. And then there was a scream, the whore had woken up and one bodyguard raced up as Gaston pleaded for his life from his masked assailant while Adela blocked the path of the other two. Among her vampiric peers Adela was known for her mastery of magic and not martial feats, but she was more than good enough to deal with the two guards. She could have dealt with them in a heart beat, but she had to be careful not to display her supernatural strength and speed too much, that would cause the entire place to set upon her, but the charade cost her valuable minutes. She entered Gaston’s room to the sickening sounds of steel penetrating flesh and a pained gasp from Joceline, as the bodyguard plunged his sword into her stomach.
Without thinking Adela tore the man’s head clean off his shoulders, picked up Joceline before the body hit the ground and broke out the window in a mortal eyeblink.
She did not remember finding Sturm, her gelding, but before long they were racing away from the border town into Estalia proper.
“I cocked that up pretty good, huh?” Joceline whispered, voice laced with pain.
“Shhh no words my Flower, save your strength.” Adela said, in a tone calmer than she felt, if her heart could still beat it would be trying to hammer out of her chest. She steered Sturm into a well hidden clearing in the trees, if anybody did pursue them, they’d have trouble finding them.
Carefully she eased herself and Joceline out the saddle and laid her love on the pine needle carpeted forest floor.
Blood had soaked most of Joceline’s shirt, looking back Adela would marvel that her inner beast hadn’t roared against its cage in the presence of so much blood. Quickly Adela tore open the shirt and hissed softly at the damage the blade had done, a deep wound in Joceline’s lower abdomen.
“My dear, sweet, Petal, I think we both know I am not long for this world.” Joceline rasped, the adorable freckles Adela loved to kiss now standing out starkly against pale skin, “Gut wounds like this need doctoring or magics neither of us..can do.” Joceline’s cool hand stroked Adela’s face, wiping away a bloody tear, “Shhh. No need for tears. The last four years have been the best I have ever known, all I ask is that-.”
“No! I can’t.. I can’t lose you. In all my centuries of existence I never had felt more alive than my years with you..I..” Adela quickly rolled up her sleeve to expose her wrist and then grabbed a thin knife on her belt.
Joceline’s eyes went wide, “You always changed the subject when I brought it up..”
“I never wanted to Damn you to this immortal life. It is one I did not choose but had forced on me when my Sire wanted a pretty northern plaything. You will be truly Damned if you accept this. The Hunger, the struggle with your inner Beast, knowing if the Great Necromancer returns He will leash us like attack dogs. All I can offer in return is my eternal love, but the choice is yours..”
It had started eight years ago, no ten. Ten years ago a masked assassin made an attempt on his life, her blue eyes glaring at him in anger, her voice laced with wrath demanding he confess. But his body guard had stopped her, stabbed her in the gut, and then that..thing had killed that body guard, making an awful mess Gaston had to pay extra to the brothel because of, and escaped through the window, another extra charge, and into the night carrying the soon to be corpse. But surely she couldn’t have survived? Forget that the owner of those eyes and that voice should have been dead already. He had been jumpy for months after.. But finally relaxed. He probably imagined the similarities, some misplaced guilt for taking what was rightfully his creating phantoms.
And then the deaths began, only one a year, the first two almost unnoticeable, if not for two things, the victims were both peasants he had bribed to testify against his brother’s widow, and both deaths occurred on the anniversary of his brother’s brats ‘cleansing.’ Gaston had shook it off, ignored it when the third death, another peasant, occurred, despite the whispers of the other peasants. Then he started seeing Her face in reflections of the water, the Lady of the Lake, blonde and ethereal like the stories said, glared at him in anger, mouthing words he could not hear.
In flashes of lighting he’d see Joceline’s face outside windows and doors, bloated and damaged like a drowned corpse, hissing at him silently. To soothe his worries he had the lake that was Joceline’s execution method and grave searched. Four peasants drowned in the search but her body wasn’t found, not even the chains.
The deaths continued, more peasants that had been bribed to testify against his brother’s widow, the guard that beat Joceline and her children, the one that lit to pyre, and now after each murder he would find the words ‘confess’ written in blood in his study, chambers, even his private rooms he brought women to, he spent a small fortune bribing the maids to clean the blood, swearing them to secrecy. Last year the apothecary, who had made the poison Gaston was slowly killing his brother’s heirs with, was murdered, body displayed like meat in a butcher’s shop in his own shop, not a drop of blood in the place. The bloody words were written in Gaston's private prayer room to the Lady, taking up most of a wall.
A week before the anniversary of the brats’ death he set out his hunting lodge with some of his loyal knights, who had been with him the day he slew his brother and also testified Raoul had fled like a coward from the battle, along with plenty of servants. Gaston said the hunting trip was to deal with the stress, to end the rumours that the deaths had nothing to do with him. He assumed whatever this damned thing was it would strike out against his wife or children when it didn't find him, he could always remarry and make more heirs.
Then the accidents that claimed the lives of his knights began, falling off steep trails, being thrown from horses, things that at first could be explained, but became more and more bizarre such as being tangled in bed sheets and strangled by them or choking on a midnight meal with no one else around. Now today, the anniversary of the ‘cleansing’, he had gone out for a hunt, with the last of his knights, once eight now four, servants, once twenty now twelve, many had fled after the deaths of his knights, the cowardly bastards.
They had gotten turned around in the woods, despite knowing them well, and as the sun began to set, they heard noises; growls, huffs and sniffing. Three knights, all well armoured and armed with the finest swords, went to investigate, and never returned, later their bodies were found, strung up like theatre puppets. The remaining servants had fled at that, screaming about curses and the vengeful dead.
Gaston had galloped his horse blindly into the forest as he heard something approaching him and the last knight, the screams of his final knight ringing in his ears, soon it was replaced with the howling of wolves.
He sailed through the air and crashed to the ground after being thrown from his horse, something caught that damned beast’s leg, and still he ran. He could hear the sounds of hooves and clawed paws behind him as his lungs burned, and his heart felt like it would burst.
He only stopped when he reached the edge of a lake that stretched for miles in either direction. Having finally stopped long enough for his brain to realise the state his body was in, and he was made very aware his legs were too damaged for him to swim.
He pulled his sword free from its scabbard and turned to face his hunters, fear gripping his fast beating heart with what he saw. At least a half dozen wolves fanned out around him, but these were not living creatures, not only were they too big, bones showed through holes in the skin, one had half the skin ripped off its snout, only half a snarl possible, but twice as terrifying.
The wolves parted as two cloaked riders approached, one on a pure white steed and the other.. No.. this was not possible. His brother’s great black warhorse, with the one white stocking on his left rear leg and white star on his chest, that Gaston had killed stating it maimed a stablehand, when the truth was the stubborn beast refused to let Gaston ride him. Joceline's death, now stood before him, terrifying in death as he had been magnificent in life, baleful red eyes glowed unnaturally too sharp teeth gleamed in the moonlight.
“You have done many great wrongs, Gaston Du Blanc, all in the name of greed.” The rider on the white horse removed her hood. Gaston's knees gave out as he beheld the Lady’s visage that had judged him from many a lake, puddle or wine glass. She was a beauty to behold, almost as pale as her steed, green eyes faintly glowing, looking at him in disgust.
“My Lady, I did all in the name of your greatness.”
“Moments from your death and you still deny your crimes…What were the words he used, my Flower?
“ ‘Instead of begging for your forgiveness, he protects his crimes with lies.’ Or something to that effect.” The second rider, on his brother’s horse, spoke in a voice he never thought he’d ever hear again.
“Hello Gaston,” Joceline removed her hood, but she didn’t look right, she still had the same raven black hair, much longer now than it had been when he sentenced her to death, long plait on draped over her shoulder like she used to wear it, the freckles over her delicate nose were paler now but still there, but she paler now, features sharper. The pretty maid that should have been his mistress with an easy smile was gone and something much darker glared at him with an ice cold glare of anger and rage.
“Joceline, I swear to you I was just trying to do what was best for-”
“You.” Joceline dismounted, Gaston noticed now she was in dark green armour, not the bright green of the Green Knight, but something that was a step away from black.
“You murdered my husband so you could have the whole fiefdom to yourself, without having to buy it from Raoul, which you could have easily done.” She stepped towards him, hand resting on the pommel of his brother’s sword, the one he had gifted Sir Luc, his most loyal knight and the first to have an ‘accident’, it had been one the items given to Gaston after he won his case against his brother's holdings, “And instead of buying it from his widow, as tradition dictated, you lied about his death, had knights of the realm disgrace his good name, the same knights that helped you murder him. By the way you really should have told your fellow murderers to be careful what they said when drunk,” Another step, “Poisoned his children because somehow paying an apothecary for an expensive slow acting poison that mimicked disease was still cheaper than buying their inheritance from me, something I will mention again now, is an accepted practise and would have made you look honourable, noble even.And then when a desperate mother found a cure, you accused her of consorting with Chaos…and burned two innocent children to death for the crime of being your brother’s children.” Despite the calmness of her steps, and almost casual tone, Gaston could feel the waves of anger radiating off her.
“Please…I’ll give you anything, anything you want, please don’t kill me.” Gaston begged, tears and snot streaming down his face.
“Oh Gaston, I’ve been telling you for eight years what I wanted.” The brunette shook her head as she tsked.
“To be a little fair to the pig, we did write the words on the bodies the first three years, we should have realised he wouldn’t bother checking the bodies for anything.” The blonde sighed, Gaston realised now her accent was more Reikspiel than Bretonnian.
“Valid. But honestly, five years of telling you to confess and all you did was make your maids richer.” Joceline, or whatever wore her skin, squatted in front of Gaston, nose wrinkling like she smelled something foul, “Five people died because you refused to confess.”
“You murdered them! Good men and-” Gaston’s words were cut off when Joceline back handed him, breaking his jaw.
“Good men and women don’t damn the woman who used the last of her wealth to feed them, they don’t stand back and watch as two children with not even ten winters between them are murdered, when they know the truth, they don’t turn deaf ears on their screams as they are punished for a crime that was never theirs to bare, or laugh as they scream for their mama. And no Gaston, you can’t promise to confess now. It's too late. As we speak, a magistrate with a group of Grail Knights is heading to your brother’s castle with proof that you have been harbouring artifacts of Chaos in your vaults. I understand why you made Raoul’s castle your own, it was bigger and nicer than yours, but you really should have left once you had even an inkling I was haunting you. I know every hidden entrance and hallway of that place, and you never did bother to do inventory of your vaults. Your wife and children will have all their property, titles and status stripped from them, and will spend the rest of their lives working for some Noble that bought them from the magistrate, if not put to death. Still a better mercy than you offered my family.”
Gaston whimpered, trying to beg, only able to whimper out a “What now?” from a broken jaw.
“Oh now I make good on my promise I made fourteen years ago… I will tear your throat out with my teeth.” Joceline smiled, revealing gleaming fangs, Gaston’s scream died before it could truly form.
“You really enjoyed that..” Adela smirked, watching her love feed on the pig, his arms twitching.
“It was very satisfying. Who said vengeance left you empty?” Joceline smiled with bloody lips, “I can’t finish him, his blood is so fatty it's like drinking melted butter.”
“I do not even want to know how you know what that tastes like.”
“Bretonnian Nobles love their butter.”
“So what now? We’ve spent the better part of two decades on my vengeance, only fair you choose what we do now.” Joceline asked as most of their wolves finished off the now drained body. Her favourite wolf, a big gray fellow, rested his head on her lap and was enjoying a scratch behind the ears. Joceline had a unique gift for commanding beasts, making beasts her loyal pets, not something typically found in the Lamian bloodline, but differences popped up every so often.
”Your vengeance was fun though. No fun isn’t it.. Well it's not the only thing. It was satisfying.Something about dismantling a wicked man and his wicked schemes felt good. Not as good as waking up with you in my arms but..” Adela laughed as Joceline flushed, something only possible with the recent feeding, “After all this time you still get flustered, and it's still adorable.”
“So, we travel the lands of men, seeking out the wicked, between sessions of amazing sex?” Joceline asked, still blushing but with a smirk.
Adela laughed again, “Oh I like the way you think, my love. Now let's go check that hunting lodge for shinies and surfaces that will hold our weight.” Adela cackled as her lady love swatted her shoulder.