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It was impossible to tell whether it was day or night, there were no windows in the room where she was kept. Still weak she lay in the canopied bed, staring blankly at the opposite wall. Her mind was so empty, so quiet, a silence unlike any since Galain had been made Gangrel. The child was quiet as well, sleeping now that An'Thaya had calmed it somewhat.
The door swung open and she tensed, her emerald eyes sparking with hate as her Uncle stepped into the room. She had seen no one else but him, apparently he considered her important enough to handle himself. He bore a tray this time, which he set before her on the bed. "Eat."
She made no move towards it, merely stared past him. "I said eat!" he raised his hand as if to strike her, but she did not flinch. "You will eat because the child needs sustenance," he spoke somewhat calmly this time, "You have no choice." Turning he swept back out of the room slamming the door behind him.
'Thaya looked down at the tray, shaking as she drew a deep breath. He was right of course; she would eat because the baby needed it. If it had been her alone she would have starved rather than obey him. She lifted the goblet of clear water and sipped it; it had an odd sweet taste to it. She drew it away from her lips and sniffed at it... he wouldn't dare poison her, he wanted either her or the child. Shaking her head she decided her senses must have been addled by the mist from the rose. Pulling the tray forward she started eating... and her brain started working on a means of escape.
~*~
Every thing was blurry... even down to her thoughts, staring down at hands that seemed unfamiliar she struggled to gain a clear thought. She was.... she was who? Scrambling across the satin bedsheets she looked for a mirror, her sights set on a makeup table with a large oval mirror near the right wall. Sliding out of the bed she stumbled towards it, falling several times in a drugged haze on her way. Reaching the table she pulled herself up into the chair, her eyes flickering up to the mirror.
Emerald green eyes stared back from a face framed with a mane of deep red hair, the features had a slightly Elven tilt to them and reaching up she ran her fingers over slightly pointed ears. Her clothing told her nothing; she was dressed in a simple white silk shift. The only unusual mark she found was a golden teardrop set into her skin above her heart. She was also pregnant, her hand settled over her abdomen, the tell tale swell and movement of the child saying all that needed to be said. There was a small gold band on her wedding finger, but no mark underneath... "Who am I?"
~*~
A servant brought her a drink some time later, she eyed the lady speculatively as she accepted it. "What is this place?" she asked, "What am I doing here?" She didn't mention that she had no memory of who she was. The grey haired matron blinked in suprise as she straightened the bed sheets, "Why my Lady An'Thaya, this is your home," she informed her in a busy body voice, "The Healer confined you to your room because of complications with your pregnancy. After your fall we feared for the child... and quite frankly the blow to your head seemed to leave you somewhat addled."
An'Thaya.... the name seemed right... somehow. "Fall?" her voice was somewhat distant as she gazed around the room, searching for anything that would jog her memory. "Yes," the lady continued, "You took quite a tumble down the stairs, you had Master Tallin hysterical with worry." The explanation made sense, although it didn't feel quite right. She had no reason not to believe the kindly old woman however... "Master Tallin?" Her emerald eyes did not even blink at the name. "Yes M’Lady, your husband, Tallin D’Riel."
~*~
The seed of untruth had been planted; the merest suggestion from the ChamberMaid would lead to gradual acceptance. Tallin spun the gold wedding ring on his finger, a ring that matched the one on An'Thaya's hand. She would hand the child to him willingly this way, what safer place was there for a child then under its fathers care?
For now he wove dreams in her mind, nightmares of half-truths that would sway her to his cause. Finally, after centuries she belonged to him.... and sweet revenge would be had for the past. The elves would pay as well.. both of them, for loving her, for having her love in return. They had kept her from him... but now they were the helpless ones. His laughter filled the chamber, oh yes; he would enjoy making them suffer.
She wandered the halls of dreams, lost and confused... half seen faces... words not quite heard. Memories? Or just figments of her imagination? Darkness brushed its cold hand against her cheek, and turning she saw a face fully for the first time. He was handsome, tall, blond with sea green eyes... she knew him somehow. He leaned towards her, his mouth parting as if to kiss her... then she noticed the glint of fangs, his breath hot on her neck as he lunged, piercing her skin, a feral growl of need as he drank of her life’s blood....
An'Thaya woke with a scream, that had been no dream, it had been real... a memory of some sort. She drew the covers tight around her, shaking, a cold sweat breaking out over her body. Her fingers went to her neck... there just above a vein were faint traces scars. "Oh goddess!" Breaking down into tears she huddled against the headboard...
~*~
Tallin watched the companions through the fire, he completely ignored the messenger, and the Changeling Prince could do nothing. He watched the Thief however; she seemed to be the brains of the operation at the moment. The two elves were too distraught to do much, although they were hesitant to believe Duncan.
The Dark Mage paced his chambers, Duncan was playing his part well enough, but he needed something else to insure that they followed the path too the other wizard. He had many puppets at his disposal.. it was only a matter of choosing.
Some time later he entered the Amazon's chambers as she slept, leaning over her he unsheathed his dagger, pausing for a moment to observe her bronzed beauty before doing what he came to do.
His name was Patrick, a Mercenary that had sold himself to Tallin a long time ago. He stepped out of the portal through which he had been sent, dark eyes focusing on the tavern in front of him. His mission was a short one, clearly laid out by the Dark Mage.
Swaggering into the Inn he ignored the group of companions, purposely keeping his eyes averted from them. He strode up the bar, seating himself and ordering an ale. The InnKeeper was chatty enough; just what he needed to implement his plan. Inevitably the man's eyes fell on Patrick’s belt, and what hung there. "What is that?"
The Mercenary looked down, yanking the long tress of red hair from his belt he held it up where the elves could clearly see. "I took it off an Elven bitch we were transporting, I like trophies, so after I had my way with her I cut of a lock of that fiery red hair of hers." Laughing raucously he tossed it on the counter, it was clearly stained with blood, there were no wounds on the mercenary, so it was clear where the blood had come from.
~*~
An'Thaya woke from a fitful nightmare, the bedsheets twisted around her sweat slick skin. With a cry she stumbled from the bed, leaning uneasily on the nightstand. She looked up into the mirror, her expression changing to one of shock. A short tuft of hair near the back of her head stuck up like a rooster’s comb, she reached up and ran delicate fingers over it. What had happened? Her fingers were red... she brought her hand down and stared at it, a freshly healed cut revealed itself on the palm of her hand. "What..."
"Now dearie," she jumped as the ChamberMaid entered the room with a stack of towels. "This is what the Master was worried about my dear, you have taken to hurting yourself since the blow to the head." She shook her head and tisked, "He found you trying to cut your hair off last evening, you were using a dagger and had cut yourself as well, blood and hair everywhere."
An'Thaya found herself steered towards the pool at the other end of the room. "Time for a bath now deary, clean you right up and everything will be alright." Somehow a glass of clear liquid was pressed into her hand and she drank it back obediently as the woman stripped the nightgown off her and urged her into the warm water.
~*~
An'Thaya's sleep had been disturbed by nightmares once again. Flickering images of an elf with striped hair who wielded a light saber, the feel of evil followed him like a cloud... Who were these elves that haunted her? The vampire and the Dark Knight.... why did they want to harm her? Somehow she knew they were coming for her, wanted to take her from this place. Where was her husband? The Chambermaid spoke of Lord Tallin often, but she never saw him. Perhaps the blow to the head she had suffered was putting these images in her head? She almost hoped that was the case... the alternative seemed unbearable.
~*~
Enough time had passed so that An'Thaya came to trust this man she called husband. Although he never touched her as a man would touch a wife she accepted it as fact, she also learned of her own skills... mage and warrior. He whispered to her in the shadows, of the dangers in the night. One day they would come, the images in her nightmares, and they would try to take her from him. They would try to harm her child.... and she was not about to let that happen.
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