0 comments/ 18566 views/ 4 favorites Night Falls Ch. 01 By: NightChylde This is my first attempt at putting my writing out for others to read. This is the story of one of my favorite role play characters, Kiara Victoria Draken, and the setting is in the country now known as Exeter in England. The year is 1292, and the place is the Manor of the young Lord Esiah Draken and his wife Iliana. I wanted to start with her birth and move on, as it would only do her justice if I did so because of the loved people that helped shape her. This will take time to write, 600 plus years of history, so this is an ongoing project. I hope you like it as much as I like the character. Feel free to give feedback, I am glad to have it. *************************** The night was cold, not the kind of cold that brought snow to the sweeping grounds in the countryside of England, but the kind that chills the air and got into the cool stone halls of the manor. It seemed that cold wind ran it’s way under the thick ornate wooden doors of his Lordship’s library door, chilling the room despite the raging fire in the fireplace. Only a few moments earlier, the screams of his Lady had ceased to ring through the hallways, long incessant sounds of torture as the woman brought forth her second child into the world. The wane cry of the newborn baby echoed on after in the young man’s head, still burned into his memory now as he heard a soft knock on the door. “Come” The soft masculine voice of the young Lord rose to bid the person enter. The door opened to an elderly woman, still stiffly straight in her posture and immaculately groomed in a gray uniform dress, her silver white hair combed and pinned into a perfect knot at the base of her neck. The stiffness of the woman, formality suiting the placement in the house of a nobleman, melts upon her gaze on the young man before her. “Lord Esiah, the Lady has given you a daughter.” The man pinched his nose as an odd sort of pain settles into his features. “Who sired this one?” He spoke out of turn, and knew it then. But the child was not of his creation; he was not able to sire children as they had learned some time ago. His words had an effect on the older woman he didn’t see with his position, pain darting across her face. She obviously cared a good deal for him, like one would for a son. Her words came out soft and choked, and she cleared her throat before trying again. “Her eyes…the child is the line of the Queen Mother”. Esiah looked up at this, his movement sharp with his surprise, an ungentlemanly curse coming to his lips at the statement. “The Lady chose a man of royal blood to sire her child? Is she mad?” His frustration was clear in his voice, hard and angry. It was then that a man stepped out of the shadows, melted from them as easily as one would walk through sheer curtains, though they seemed to cling to the man just a moment too long to be natural. The man was tall and dark tanned with an underlying paleness, as if his heritage would demand his skin be rich brown but something else would take the golden tone to a cooler paleness beneath it. His long black hair settled around his shoulders haphazardly and brilliant blue eyes almost seemed to glow. He seemed more animal than man in the way he held himself, and in the subconscious impression he left on those who saw or dealt with him. He carried a rough beastial visage like a cloak though to most he would seem just as any other man honed and muscled with long hours of work. The man moved across the floor to drop himself with feral grace into a leather wing back chair next to the young Lord, watching the youth’s face with a softer concern then what his appearance would naturally allow. “The sins of a woman cannot be brought upon the innocent head of a child, brother”. The sound of his voice was rough, darkly bass in timber and intimidating to most. To Esiah it soothed over his wounded soul like a salve, a constant in his life that brought him strength. This feral man was his brother, a choice made by both, and by mutual adoption they were family. “Gareth, much as I know this, so will others. Bringing this child to the church to be christened Draken will be a marked mistake as all will know of her blood.” Gareth, as he was called in this place and time turned eyes far too wise for his appearance to the man beside him and shook his head. “They will say nothing but for their own gossip and tired belittlement. They cannot afford to speak ill of the crown nor you. You are far too respected for them not to be silenced in their conjecture.” Another knock sounded, a younger servant girl carefully negotiated the door, a small bundle wrapped in white blankets in her arms. She drops an awkward curtsy as she steps in, a second thought or automatic reaction to the formality of the house. The girl seemed to be too distracted in gazing down at the baby in her arms. Esiah cleared his throat pointedly, bringing the girl out of her reverie to blush and stumble over herself as she brings the child and places the bundle into his awaiting arms. With a wave of his hand, he dismissed the girl, not looking down at his new child until the woman had taken herself from the room. Gareth, however, wasn’t so patient. Lifting himself to his feet, he leaned onto the back of his brother’s chair to look down into the cool silver blue gaze of the tiny child. A crooked smile took the man’s face, as the little girl’s gaze took the man’s heart. Night Falls Ch. 02 With a bow of her aged head, the Nanny stepped out leaving the two men alone. With the closing of the door, the hall lights lost, the room was dimmed to the flickering light of the fire. In the heavy shadows, the young Lord turned to look up, the presence at his shoulder felt leaning closer. The voice so close to his ear soft with a hushed awe that runs counterpoint to the aggressive growl natural to his voice. "She is a beautiful creature indeed, brother. My congratulations on your little Ailynn." It was with these words that the man, so shaken by recent years and his marriage, looked down at the tiny angel in his arms. Such soft skin, dark hair already in tiny curls against her fair face and then her eyes staring up at him with unusual curiosity for one so young. As he looked down into those eyes, his heart was lost, his breathe stolen and a love he hadn't felt since his son was born swelled within him. They were like sapphire velvet fired from within with a starburst of icy pale blue and shards of liquid silver, eyes that even now warmed, the pale blue and silver receding as she regarded the men before her. A small hand lifted, tiny fingers curling against the blankets around her as if trying to reach out and touch the two men staring down at her with such admiration. As the two stared on, a soft tentative knock came to the door. The two men, as if broken from their trance, jerked their heads up to look at it before an invitation to enter would be given. A shaken young maid, looking as if harried and attacked, entered to drop an awkward curtsy and speak to the two men in a shaken voice. "M'Lord, your Lady wishes your presence and the return of her child. She demands it most forcibly." The woman's tantrums and habits of throwing things at the staff was near legend by then and young Esiah sighed with a tiredness from years of dealing with such irritations. He started to stand, placing on lean hand on the smooth brown leather arm of the chair to push himself upright before a larger stronger hand came down on his shoulder with gentle insistence. Looking back to his brother, he watched as the man's formerly tender expression hardened with purpose. The feral expression suppressed but still powerful on the man's face, eyes hardened with anger boiling just under the surface. "I will speak with the Lady and let it be known that you wish some time alone with your daughter." Waving the distraught maid from the room, he watched as she scampered away like a beaten animal and sighed. "She cannot keep to this behavior. She will not act against me, she knows too well what will happen if she does. I will speak to her to calm her fits and keep her away from you until she can calm after her experience. You need time to bond with your child, and she must respect that." Leaning over the arm of the chair, he pressed a gentle kiss to the baby's forehead and offered a soft smile to his brother before he turned and moved with determination to the door to slip out, closing the door firmly after him. Soft words were heard afterwards, directions to the staff outside that by penalty of their livelihood would anyone pass the doorway to disturb the Lord and his new young Lady. Esiah listened to the door, the gentle murmurings easing the tension in his shoulders. His body fell back to settle against the back of the chair, eyes closed as he tried to flush the poison of his wife's anger from his body, calming his limbs to relax before he could speak to this new angel in his life without effect of it. The soft stirrings of the baby, mewings like a kitten, these brought his eyes open to look down at those beautiful blue eyes. A smile, gentle and warm touched his soft full lips as he looked down at her. "Alright my little one, my attentions you shall have. It cannot be that a beautiful being such as yourself would go without admirers." The child lay her head to one side against his arm, seeming to settle contented as she finds herself the object of his gaze. "A name for you perhaps. We cannot call you little one forever. It will put you to quite a state when you are grown." His words seem to call forth answer in form of Walton, the elderly butler, who enters after knocking tentatively. The man clears his throat pointedly and makes his apologies for intrusion before going on to his task. "The Lady addresses me to give you notice that the child is to be called Victoria. 'Before you get any other dunced idea in your head' as she said it. I beg forgiveness for the rudeness of the statement but I was told to speak her words quite accurately." Esiah, far from wincing at the cutting tone of her words, nods tiredly as he was quite used to it by now. Dismissing the butler, he turned his eyes back to his daughter and straightened his expression as not to upset her. "It seems my dear one that your dear Mother has decided to flaunt in the face of the throne and name you with Princess bearing. Give the Lady her pleasure. It does little good to war against her when she has such definite decisions. Let her have Victoria, but we must give you a name to ground you. You shall carry my mother's name as well. Victoria Anne Draken as you shall be. My little Anne, and your uncle Gareth's Ailynn. You shall have a few names to choose from." He smiled at this, well aware that no one but his wife would be calling this little angel by that stuffy name. His long tanned fingers reached down to smooth gently over the baby's sleeping face, watching her perfect tiny features moving in her dreams in reaction to his touch. She had seemed to have settled into a comfort between his strong stomach and his arm, and was radiating a lot of heat for one so small. Laying his head back against the chair, his eyes close as well, the full night of his wife's screams to bring this blessing forth into his life having kept him awake. He had reached the point of exhaustion and with his child's sleeping so trusting in her loving father's arms, he could himself give himself over to his weariness and rest. Night Falls Ch. 03 Gareth slipped out of the room, tugging the door shut after him gently as not to startle the baby. His face was grave with the task at hand, sharp blue eyes almost glowing in the dim unsteady candlelight of the hallway. At his right side, a man cleared his throat quietly as to make himself known before the intense looking man ran him over in his charge to his task. "M'Lord?" This from the butler, watching Gareth with a fearful respect. The response given was a soft growling tone, roughened more by his intention to get his point across without chance of argument or defiance. "No one is to disturb his Lordship. He is spending time with his child, and is deserving of that time. No matter what request her Ladyship makes, the staff will take to it or I will do so, as I do now. Do I make myself clear?" The man before him paled some at the tone, his skin already aged and spotting with that age becoming sallow and sickly colored. His voice was somewhat less confident, shaking just noticeably after nodding automatically at the demands. "Yes Lordship. The Lady asks one message sent..." The rest of the words were lost then, a growl coming from the man before him silencing the elderly butler before he could finish his sentence. "No one is to disturb him. If the Lady has words for him she can give them to me. I dare say her tone will be more respectful then the one she uses with my brother." With this he passed the man, little patience for his groveling. Mounting the wide sweeping staircase, he took them with powerful steps, almost silent from habit as he took his large form up towards the eastern wing of the Manor where the Lady kept her suites and guest quarters. Of course she kept herself separate from the formal parts of the house and as far as she could arrange from her husband and children's quarters. It disgusted him, and anger boiled the long cold blood in his veins. But this was his brother's wife, a woman that believed herself above him and all others she associated with. The few hours of pain she suffered were only endured for her gain, and no other reason. It was these dark thoughts that brought him down the hall to her quarters, startling staff that passed him at the animalistic anger that near poured from the man. They stepped far to the side of him, watching him with wide eyes. He gives barely a glance to them, usually not one to wish fear of him amongst the staff but now angry far beyond such concerns. As he approached the large heavy wooden doors that guarded the Lady's quarters, he passed her servant, a harried woman even at her young age. This woman he gives effort to, as she looked already as if the woman inside has torn her apart this eve. Pausing he gave her a curt nod and waited while she passed him, giving him a fearful eye as his very presence rolled with his irritation. "Fear not, young one." His voice was forced to gentleness so as not to further her anxiety. "My blood boils not for you, and that one that it does...she will soon feel it." The woman nodded with an uncertain shake to the movement. Her loyalty, which was so hard pressed to her mind, demanding she defend her Lady but the woman's torture stated that she should feel some of the same in return. Gareth watched the emotions play over the tired pale face of the woman before him for only a moment before he relieved her of the internal war, dismissing her to go and rest. Pushing open the doors, he was greeted immediately by the cold elegant voice of the Lady of the Manor, demands starting already. "Marie, has that lazy man brought my child to me yet?" He had to growl at this, shutting the door after him with more force then necessary. This caused a shriek of anger from the woman, clutching the sheets of her bed up to her breast in an attempt at modesty, though most that knew her knew that modesty was the least of her qualities. Gareth ignored the motion, much as he ignored the woman and her state of undress. He didn't look away from her, as to give her the impression that he was embarrassed by her nudity, but looked her straight in the eye. "The child will be returned to you for her feeding when she hungers. If then, since I'm sure you have a wet nurse for such things. For now, the young Princess stays below with Esiah and you shall shriek for him no more. Yes, I know how you have whored yourself for the crown and born it's blood in the girl downstairs. But as she is spirit of my brother's spirit she shall be protected and you shall feel no pride for that." He watched the babbling woman, shocked that the man would dare speak to her in such a way and said as much to him. "Be fair warned Lady, should harm come to that man or his children the price shall be yours to pay." Iliana found her voice now, her spine straightening and her face, still flushed from her efforts to rid her body of the pain and the child, twisted with cruel confidence. "I know your secrets, man of death, and you are weak. I can dispatch you myself, a woman of no strength. So do not believe yourself God enough to threaten me." The insolent words only managed to make him angrier, a growl rumbling through him loud enough to pull the blood from her face as she looked at him. "If I am gone, many more will search to find me and will know my fate. And you, Lady, for all your strength, will fall in ways terrifying beyond your night horrors." With that he left her before he enslaved the smug woman, dominated her mind or outright harmed her. His large sleekly muscular form seemed to drive itself from the room with the force of a natural storm. The woman was left to stew and plot as the man's insults and threats could not be left stand without retribution. It was then that the future was forged, and one man would fall for another's words of protection. Night Falls Ch. 04 The Lady sat up in her bed, staring at the door as the room still rung with the sound of the man’s exit. How dare that animalistic man come into her rooms and call her a whore! A servant shuffled her way across the room, trying to avoid the woman’s notice so she can slip away to her other duties. A rage at the woman’s impertinence rose in the Lady’s breast. She reacted, leaning over to pick up a porcelain jug of water from her bedside and throwing it across the room to crash against the wall just over the servant’s head. The woman ducked, holding the place where blood welled already as the jug’s shards cut into her scalp. The woman looked up then, fear shining in her eyes, only to be rewarded with a cruel shriek to get out of the Lady’s sight. The servant broke down in tears, running from the room. She tripped before the doorway, shaking so hard she could hardly stand, reaching for the door afraid to look back at the woman as she stumbled out. The Lady Iliana watched all of this with a cold detachment, light blue eyes that had once been soft and innocent in her flirting with the young men of the court in her seasons before marriage, now cold and angry most of her time. Little humor saw it’s way to those eyes now, except in times like this, when the ridiculousness of those around her touched her interest. Rising from her bed, she ignored the clench of pain caused by her body adjusting after the birth. Scowling at the few hairs that had fallen from her pale blonde coif, she screamed for her servant, standing nude beside her bed. The harried teenager came closer, dropping a curtsy as required by etiquette. “You called, M’Lady” The soft shy voice came across the room, her eyes dropped to the ground as not to look on the woman’s form in this state. Iliana noted this, amused by it. “Dare not look at me? Am I not beautiful since I have had my children.” The young girl babbled, floundering for words. “Of course you are, M’Lady. I merely wished that I not offend by staring.” Yes those words seemed placating enough. Iliana chuckled, amused by the youth’s embarrassment. “Then do not offend me by looking away. Look child, and pray when you populate the lower classes with your bastards that you remain your figure as I have.” The girl gasped at the words, not sure how she had deserved the cutting word the woman used and dark thoughts of her own balking at the Lady’s use of the word bastard when it was well known the two children of his house were both exactly that. No one was fooled by the name the children carried and yet the Lord loved the children so deeply another’s name for them would have seemed a crime against the family somehow. But the Lady’s vanity must be sated, if for no other reason than the money desperately needed to keep the girl’s family eating the next week. Raising her deep brown eyes, she lets them roam over the nude woman, taking pleasure in the sight of stretch marks, indentions in the skin, sagging where the woman’s pregnancies were showing none too flatteringly in her carefully maintained pale porcelain skin. The glimmer of humor and enjoyment in the young woman’s eyes was immediately misinterpreted in the ego of the woman before her and the Lady Iliana smiled, a wolfish smirk that screamed of self assurance in their own sexual prowess. Her voice came out a velvet purr, as she looked the young woman before her over with her own curiosity. “You can touch, young one. I will not harm you for doing so.” This had the young woman squirming, her stomach twisting at the idea of touching the Lady, as it would obviously lead to more and the woman had no interest in such things. Feigning deep religion, she begged off with words that her mother would whip her and her God condemn her for even the thought of touching another woman as was suggested. Iliana scowled, seeing this for the excuse it was and banished the youth, snatching at her robes to cover herself in her embarrassment. The girl stopped at the door, tugging gently at her wheat colored hair as she watched the Lady’s ego crack and crumble in that moment. At least she didn’t get hurt as the older woman before her had, and she ducked out of the room glad for it. What neither woman noticed was a small body that stood to one side of the doorway, in the shadows. A tiny face, so serene for one so young, turned up in prayer, the words slipping off of rosebud lips. Hands clasped to his well-tailored shirt, bright green eyes closed tight as he prayed for his mother’s soul, for the anger and violence…and of course for the scene he had just witnessed with the servant girl. With an Amen, whispered a bit louder but with the reverence of a man deep and years into his faith, he looked back to see his mother laid over her dressing table sobbing. He thought to go to her, his stocking feet taking him a few steps closer to the cracked open door when he heard a set of steps in the hallway and he ducked back into the shadows, stretched on his toes against the wall to make himself invisible. He closed his eyes tight, holding his breathe as the woman passed by him with the sleeping infant, and only as the smell of new baby touched his nose did he dare to open one eye a crack to watch the servant. The woman was far too engrossed in the angel in her arms to look around for anyone in the hallway, so his efforts were nothing but comical for the mice that might have witnessed the drama of the young boy. He stayed where he was, not moving as the servant moved out into the hallway, closing the doorway carefully behind her as not to wake the child. When the woman finally was gone, he looked back at his mother, who had seemed to settle and gone back to lay down, the exhaustion of her efforts taking over to force her to rest. Knowing that she was well and no longer in need of him, he passed the hallway, sneaking carefully across the plush run carpets over the hardwood floors. Carefully he twisted the doorknob on the children’s suites, slipping inside and very carefully closing the door after him. As he released the doorknob, the lock slipped into place with a loud clank that made him near jump from his skin. He looked around carefully, waiting for the sleeping Nanny to wake and scream at him for being out of the room, but she slept on, snoring loudly. A faint smile touched his face at that, relieved to be spared one more argument with the older woman. Passing her form slouched in a chair in the playroom, he moved to the room they had spent the past months preparing for the new child. The door was still open, as to let some air circulate in the spacious room. A soft sound came from the intricate bed created for the little Lady and he moved towards it with almost reverent steps, cautious and curious at the same time. Tugging a chair over to the side and climbing upon it, he was suddenly confronted with a set of wide icy blue silver eyes. They stared up at him with a sense of strength and curiosity, looking him over carefully as if to place him in her life. Whatever she found in that look seemed to hit her the right way, because a smile curved her tiny full lips and she curled her fingers a bit in a motion almost like a wave. Morgan stared down at her, stunned, finally coming down to his knees on the chair to rest his arms on the edge of the bed to be closer to her. One small hand reached out to press his fingers against hers. “Lord is with you, sister.” He said this with all the faith of a priest and all the heart of a saint, serious and mature even at his grand five years of existence. The baby smiled up at him again, though the expression soon melted into a massive yawn and her heavy lids dropped. She was content, safe and her knight protector had just arrived and taken to his sentinel. This was a bond that would go far beyond the death of each of them, but this moment was when it was deepest. The faith and trust of innocent youth, unclouded by conflict, pain or guilt…this was pure. Morgan watched her sleep for long minutes, making sure she would not stir again before he could see it. Sliding down from the chair, the tired little man went to his chambers, pulling the coverings from his bed to drag them to her bedside. Spreading them out on the floor, he curled up in the soft fabric, tugging it over as a impromptu beg as he took up his watch over his new little princess. Night Falls Ch. 05 Night Falls – Part 5 The servants had gone, the child taken carefully from her father’s arms and a still had gone over the household as the excitement of the day settled into the routine sleep of such a late hour. The cracking of the fire in the hearth was the only thing that broke the quiet so deafening after the earlier dramatics. The young Lord was slumped in the seat, his daughter having been removed without waking him. From across the room, a well familiar figure watched, brilliant blue eyes running over the sleeping man with an unseen affection. Gently, he rose from the couch, moving across the room with strong forceful movements, as if his body could split the seam of reality itself with his power. Reaching the man’s side, he ran his fingertips lightly over the young Lord’s hair, down to the strong line of his cheekbone. A slight shake took to those well-sinewed fingers, warmth rising to the cool blue eyes as he engulfed the sight of the man before him. This was the only warmth he had felt for millennium, tightening his limbs to restraint as he kept his touch light and his presence from waking his adopted brother. The servants would whisper in the hallways and the words would soon stretch out into the streets. His brother’s business thrived on his reputation and the hint of scandal, this immoral scandal, would harm his livelihood and ruin his life. But here, where no eyes could see, here he could be weak. He could bend to the temptation that brought him to his knees, and touch this sweet pure hearted man that had been a part of his life for the last few years. A sigh passed his lips, the cool touch of immortality seeping through him again as the reality of his unbeating heart and the small shallow minds of the age started to take hold. His fingers dropped from the warm skin of the young Lord’s cheek, landing on his shoulder. He tapped it gently, pushing against his shoulder enough to rouse him from his slumber. “Come, Brother.” His voice was soft and husky in a way that penetrated Esiah’s subconscious and brought his eyes open, looking up at him with sleepy confusion. “Gareth?” The fogged question, in a sleep slurred voice that caused the man before him to jerk a bit straighter, his body stiffening to keep his control about him. “You fell to your sleep, and the evening passed here will be uncomfortable come morning.” Extending a hand to the young Lord, he waited to help him to his feet. But Esiah was too exhausted, the emotional hurricane having taken most of his energy. He had swayed on his feet, near to falling to the floor but for the support of his brother’s arm around his waist. A worry touched the larger man’s brow, seeing this man he so cared for affected this way. Esiah found consciousness enough to look up at him, confusion shading his warm brown eyes. “I felt a brush against my face. Was I dreaming?” The look almost pleaded, for what Gareth couldn’t tell, but this was not something he was ready to indulge at this time. Not when the young man beside him was already so wane on the evening’s emotions and was so vulnerable because of it. He so begged for someone to take some care of him, affection being the farthest thing from truth in his marriage, and Gareth yearned to comply. With a sigh he all but carried the man, careful to let him walk enough that the servants would not talk overmuch, to his quarters near the children’s rooms, laying him down on the bed. A faint smile touched Esiah’s lips, half asleep as Gareth loosened the restrictive lounging clothes required by this period and country, something he cursed under his breathe in an ancient language. Shaking him, Gareth spoke to him quietly, telling him to move up the bed to be a bit more comfortable. It was then when his long dead heart threatened to leap from his chest. “Stay here tonight, Gareth. Lay with me.” Was the sleeping request, made without thought, just the mortal man’s desires put to words? Gareth looked to the door, torn between his desire to do so, the awkwardness of the next evening and the impression it would make on the servants should they see it. With a sigh, he patted the younger man on the shoulder. “I cannot, Esiah. People would talk, and you would not like the retribution to be paid.” Esiah frowned in his sleep, a soft whimper only a moment long before he fell silent and the conversation ended with his sleep. But Gareth was affected by that sound, that hungry needful shard that imbedded itself into his being and he could not have left the room even if it meant his death to stay. Reaching out, he brushed a stray lock of hair from the man’s forehead, to which Esiah turned a bit with the need of such a touch, and sighed heavily. Compromise was made within himself, his large feral male mortal form shifting to a smaller sleek feline form. This was a more comfortable existence for him, more natural to him as well, as one born in a temple of cat goddesses in a country that would have worshipped him. In this form he was a bit smaller than a black panther, with the lithe form and light construction of a well bred cat, and wasn’t so out of place laying at the Lord’s side as he slept. Stretching out beside the warm sleeping form, the large blue cat’s eyes watched the youth’s face with an affectionate dedication until the daylight started to the nearby hills and his consciousness was robbed from him for another day.