Chapter 145: 145
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"Hey Soren," I call out across the table, raising my voice just a fraction more in order to be heard by the ardent spitting noises that splutter out in occasional bursts across the room as Soren cracks an egg into the pan, uncaring for the oil.
Quickly he chucks the shell into a waste bin below the sink, before moving onto the next.
"Mm?" he replies absently, cracking yet another egg into the pan, followed by two slivers of bacon. The delightful smell of frying goods fills the air with its pleasant yet somehow intoxicating aroma, tempting me to lean across the table to get a better whiff. Its been a while since I have had any warm food, and while I can relent that some foods taste infinitely better cold, bacon and eggs certainly isn't one of those.
Ithuriel always used to cook me breakfast when I was little, fry up fresh buttery pancakes and slip in an extra slice of bacon that he had stolen that morning from the kitchen. Sword fighting and attempting divinist magic was both draining and tiresome for a small, skinny angel, so as a result it was not uncommon for me to be plagued by an eternally growling stomach. Of course, one day Ithuriel's mother- a member of the council, caught him stealing- she threatened to remove him from his position as my knight. Ithuriel didn't break the rules after that, and he never has since.
Heavily I wonder where Ithuriel is now- perhaps waiting around in our room, or perhaps he has made his way back to Kal. Either way, I hope he is safe, and I hope he doesn't hate what has become of me. But given Ithuriel's blatant aversion to vampires... how much hope could I possibly have?
"Your little fox friend knew what I needed to do to save you, in fact, he even consented, once he realised I was doing it to save your life, and not for my personal gain," Soren murmurs, fishing out a spatula from a metal pot across the counter and twirling it skilfully between his fingers. I look up, the shock evident on my face.
"You talked with Ithuriel? He knew? Is he okay? Where is he now- he isn't angry is he?" I babble all at once, bombarding Soren with questions. Even for a vampire who is capable of doing an innumerable number of activities at once, answering and processing all of those questions in one go is certainly a stretch.
Soothingly, Soren raises his hands, quelling my dissent and causing me to settle back down into my seat, eagerly awaiting answers for my mountain of questions. Soren turns back to his cooking, lowering the heat of the gas burner so that the spluttering of fried goods dulls to a quiet spitting.
"He is currently being comforted- if one can even call it that, in your room with Kal. He came with me looking for ways to heal you, but none of the options would have worked, or at least, there is no guarantee we would have saved you. So, quite naturally, he is in a bit of a state, but doing his best to process the realisation that you are no longer who you were. But he is a loyal fox, I do not think you need to worry. Although, hell help his heart, I think he would much rather be alone right now than with Kal, he seems heartbroken. I will not deny it, I don't think he was too happy about the idea of your potential transformation, but he knew it would save you, so he will have to live with it."
My heart skips a little. I see.
I suppose I should have expected that much and yet… The throbbing of my heart is not one to be pushed aside so lightly. I have caused Ithuriel nothing but pain and suffering. First I have grieved him by pulling him away from his people in Illistrae, from his home, then rejecting his love, and now I have become the very thing he has been incessantly taught for years to hunt. I can't imagine the torment he is going through.
Frowning, I bury my face in my hands, holding back a sob. I have been awful to him. Truly, utterly, awful.
Soren moves back round to flip over the bacon with his spatula, shrinking away to avoid getting splattered by the molten droplets of fat and oil that rocket themselves out of the sizzling plan. Then he gives me a long look up and down, a look of sympathy playing in his features. Picking up the soft melancholy that swims in the simmering depths of my heart, Soren carefully places down the spatula, padding his way softly across the room to meet me. He stops beside my chair. Delicately, he leans down on his haunches, lifting up my chin with his fingers.
"You know, I have an idea. How about we go visit him later, hmm? That way you can speak to him in person, tell him about your situation, perhaps even convince him that being a hybrid isn't so bad? Just remember whatever happens, I am here for you and I will support you, no amount of transformation will change the fact you are my Queen. And if he is a good friend, he will realise that too."
I nod absently, not fully taking in the words, too numb to reply. Soren runs a thumb tenderly across my cheek.
"You had something you wanted to ask, darling?"
I sniff a little, wiping my eyes too look at him.
"Oh right, yeah. But its a pretty dumb question now," I say, giving a sideways smile, my head sinking a little. The Prince leans in dotingly to place a kiss on my forehead.
"Of course its not, my darling. Excuse me while I attend to your breakfast, but you are free to ask me," he laughs lightly, before arising once more to attend to the sizzling eggs and bacon on the pan. From the smell that rises around the room alone, my stomach lets loose a low growl, rumbling with a hungry anticipation. Nervously, I draw my hands down over my stomach to muffle the sound, knowing in actuality that such efforts are futile in light of Soren's superb hearing.
I suppose one of the perks of being a hybrid is that I will also have such hearing, too. But I doubt that will be reason enough to convince Ithuriel of its greatness.
"Alright, fine, but it really is stupid," I sigh, running my hands through my hair. Soren clicks his tongue disapprovingly.
"No question you could possibly ask could be a stupid one one. By all means darling, ask away."
I clear my throat.
"How old are you?"
I doubt the reason for the Scarlet Princes hesitation is from any attempt to make me feel anxious, equally I don't doubt the sincerity of his words, but there is something in the slight tenseness of his form that makes my stomach lurch with a jolt of worry, if only from the dreaded anticipation of the answer.
Soren puffs out a lasting breath.
"You really want to know? Haven't all your people's tales of me given you a rough estimate?"
An involuntary grimace flashes across my face at these words. All things considered, I can hardly trust the word of my people any more, for from an array of ancient and avid vampire haters, the only information I would be getting from them is one of falsity rather than facts. They told me that I should be afraid of these creatures, that there was nothing worse in the world than the monsters of stone and ice- how wrong they were. I expect back then they didn't anticipate their marionette of a Queen to be married to the high Prince of the vampires, (I suppose I didn't either), but the fact remains that the words and tales of my people cannot be presumed as true. It has been 3000 years since an angel and a vampire have met on any other terms than the battlefield of war. It's high time that changed.
But instead of this, I simply say.
"There are a lot of tales about you, some call you a monster, others call you the manipulator, but your age was never really factored into the equation. Why, is it a touchy subject for you?"
The Scarlet Prince shakes his head in denial, but no words come from his mouth.
He runs a free hand through his hair as he scoops the bacon and eggs onto an ornate, carved white plate, sliding the plate across the table to me as he sits down opposite, blowing out a breath. Languorously, he rests his elbows on the table.
"Well okay, if you must know, I am one thousand and twenty seven. Does that bother you?"
It is quite obvious that Soren is looking for some sort of reaction, peering at me from behind his hands, head tipped, golden eyes slanted with a tentative curiosity. Instead, I just pull the plate of food towards me, pluck a knife and fork from the holder in the middle of the table, and start digging in.
"How fascinating."
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"Hey Soren," I call out across the table, raising my voice just a fraction more in order to be heard by the ardent spitting noises that splutter out in occasional bursts across the room as Soren cracks an egg into the pan, uncaring for the oil.
Quickly he chucks the shell into a waste bin below the sink, before moving onto the next.
"Mm?" he replies absently, cracking yet another egg into the pan, followed by two slivers of bacon. The delightful smell of frying goods fills the air with its pleasant yet somehow intoxicating aroma, tempting me to lean across the table to get a better whiff. Its been a while since I have had any warm food, and while I can relent that some foods taste infinitely better cold, bacon and eggs certainly isn't one of those.
Ithuriel always used to cook me breakfast when I was little, fry up fresh buttery pancakes and slip in an extra slice of bacon that he had stolen that morning from the kitchen. Sword fighting and attempting divinist magic was both draining and tiresome for a small, skinny angel, so as a result it was not uncommon for me to be plagued by an eternally growling stomach. Of course, one day Ithuriel's mother- a member of the council, caught him stealing- she threatened to remove him from his position as my knight. Ithuriel didn't break the rules after that, and he never has since.
Heavily I wonder where Ithuriel is now- perhaps waiting around in our room, or perhaps he has made his way back to Kal. Either way, I hope he is safe, and I hope he doesn't hate what has become of me. But given Ithuriel's blatant aversion to vampires... how much hope could I possibly have?
"Your little fox friend knew what I needed to do to save you, in fact, he even consented, once he realised I was doing it to save your life, and not for my personal gain," Soren murmurs, fishing out a spatula from a metal pot across the counter and twirling it skilfully between his fingers. I look up, the shock evident on my face.
"You talked with Ithuriel? He knew? Is he okay? Where is he now- he isn't angry is he?" I babble all at once, bombarding Soren with questions. Even for a vampire who is capable of doing an innumerable number of activities at once, answering and processing all of those questions in one go is certainly a stretch.
Soothingly, Soren raises his hands, quelling my dissent and causing me to settle back down into my seat, eagerly awaiting answers for my mountain of questions. Soren turns back to his cooking, lowering the heat of the gas burner so that the spluttering of fried goods dulls to a quiet spitting.
"He is currently being comforted- if one can even call it that, in your room with Kal. He came with me looking for ways to heal you, but none of the options would have worked, or at least, there is no guarantee we would have saved you. So, quite naturally, he is in a bit of a state, but doing his best to process the realisation that you are no longer who you were. But he is a loyal fox, I do not think you need to worry. Although, hell help his heart, I think he would much rather be alone right now than with Kal, he seems heartbroken. I will not deny it, I don't think he was too happy about the idea of your potential transformation, but he knew it would save you, so he will have to live with it."
My heart skips a little. I see.
I suppose I should have expected that much and yet… The throbbing of my heart is not one to be pushed aside so lightly. I have caused Ithuriel nothing but pain and suffering. First I have grieved him by pulling him away from his people in Illistrae, from his home, then rejecting his love, and now I have become the very thing he has been incessantly taught for years to hunt. I can't imagine the torment he is going through.
Frowning, I bury my face in my hands, holding back a sob. I have been awful to him. Truly, utterly, awful.
Soren moves back round to flip over the bacon with his spatula, shrinking away to avoid getting splattered by the molten droplets of fat and oil that rocket themselves out of the sizzling plan. Then he gives me a long look up and down, a look of sympathy playing in his features. Picking up the soft melancholy that swims in the simmering depths of my heart, Soren carefully places down the spatula, padding his way softly across the room to meet me. He stops beside my chair. Delicately, he leans down on his haunches, lifting up my chin with his fingers.
"You know, I have an idea. How about we go visit him later, hmm? That way you can speak to him in person, tell him about your situation, perhaps even convince him that being a hybrid isn't so bad? Just remember whatever happens, I am here for you and I will support you, no amount of transformation will change the fact you are my Queen. And if he is a good friend, he will realise that too."
I nod absently, not fully taking in the words, too numb to reply. Soren runs a thumb tenderly across my cheek.
"You had something you wanted to ask, darling?"
I sniff a little, wiping my eyes too look at him.
"Oh right, yeah. But its a pretty dumb question now," I say, giving a sideways smile, my head sinking a little. The Prince leans in dotingly to place a kiss on my forehead.
"Of course its not, my darling. Excuse me while I attend to your breakfast, but you are free to ask me," he laughs lightly, before arising once more to attend to the sizzling eggs and bacon on the pan. From the smell that rises around the room alone, my stomach lets loose a low growl, rumbling with a hungry anticipation. Nervously, I draw my hands down over my stomach to muffle the sound, knowing in actuality that such efforts are futile in light of Soren's superb hearing.
I suppose one of the perks of being a hybrid is that I will also have such hearing, too. But I doubt that will be reason enough to convince Ithuriel of its greatness.
"Alright, fine, but it really is stupid," I sigh, running my hands through my hair. Soren clicks his tongue disapprovingly.
"No question you could possibly ask could be a stupid one one. By all means darling, ask away."
I clear my throat.
"How old are you?"
I doubt the reason for the Scarlet Princes hesitation is from any attempt to make me feel anxious, equally I don't doubt the sincerity of his words, but there is something in the slight tenseness of his form that makes my stomach lurch with a jolt of worry, if only from the dreaded anticipation of the answer.
Soren puffs out a lasting breath.
"You really want to know? Haven't all your people's tales of me given you a rough estimate?"
An involuntary grimace flashes across my face at these words. All things considered, I can hardly trust the word of my people any more, for from an array of ancient and avid vampire haters, the only information I would be getting from them is one of falsity rather than facts. They told me that I should be afraid of these creatures, that there was nothing worse in the world than the monsters of stone and ice- how wrong they were. I expect back then they didn't anticipate their marionette of a Queen to be married to the high Prince of the vampires, (I suppose I didn't either), but the fact remains that the words and tales of my people cannot be presumed as true. It has been 3000 years since an angel and a vampire have met on any other terms than the battlefield of war. It's high time that changed.
But instead of this, I simply say.
"There are a lot of tales about you, some call you a monster, others call you the manipulator, but your age was never really factored into the equation. Why, is it a touchy subject for you?"
The Scarlet Prince shakes his head in denial, but no words come from his mouth.
He runs a free hand through his hair as he scoops the bacon and eggs onto an ornate, carved white plate, sliding the plate across the table to me as he sits down opposite, blowing out a breath. Languorously, he rests his elbows on the table.
"Well okay, if you must know, I am one thousand and twenty seven. Does that bother you?"
It is quite obvious that Soren is looking for some sort of reaction, peering at me from behind his hands, head tipped, golden eyes slanted with a tentative curiosity. Instead, I just pull the plate of food towards me, pluck a knife and fork from the holder in the middle of the table, and start digging in.
"How fascinating."
"Hey Soren," I call out across the table, raising my voice just a fraction more in order to be heard by the ardent spitting noises that splutter out in occasional bursts across the room as Soren cracks an egg into the pan, uncaring for the oil.Quickly he chucks the shell into a waste bin below the sink, before moving onto the next."Mm?" he replies absently, cracking yet another egg into the pan, followed by two slivers of bacon. The delightful smell of frying goods fills the air with its pleasant yet somehow intoxicating aroma, tempting me to lean across the table to get a better whiff. Its been a while since I have had any warm food, and while I can relent that some foods taste infinitely better cold, bacon and eggs certainly isn't one of those.Ithuriel always used to cook me breakfast when I was little, fry up fresh buttery pancakes and slip in an extra slice of bacon that he had stolen that morning from the kitchen. Sword fighting and attempting divinist magic was both draining and tiresome for a small, skinny angel, so as a result it was not uncommon for me to be plagued by an eternally growling stomach. Of course, one day Ithuriel's mother- a member of the council, caught him stealing- she threatened to remove him from his position as my knight. Ithuriel didn't break the rules after that, and he never has since.Heavily I wonder where Ithuriel is now- perhaps waiting around in our room, or perhaps he has made his way back to Kal. Either way, I hope he is safe, and I hope he doesn't hate what has become of me. But given Ithuriel's blatant aversion to vampires... how much hope could I possibly have?"Your little fox friend knew what I needed to do to save you, in fact, he even consented, once he realised I was doing it to save your life, and not for my personal gain," Soren murmurs, fishing out a spatula from a metal pot across the counter and twirling it skilfully between his fingers. I look up, the shock evident on my face. "You talked with Ithuriel? He knew? Is he okay? Where is he now- he isn't angry is he?" I babble all at once, bombarding Soren with questions. Even for a vampire who is capable of doing an innumerable number of activities at once, answering and processing all of those questions in one go is certainly a stretch.Soothingly, Soren raises his hands, quelling my dissent and causing me to settle back down into my seat, eagerly awaiting answers for my mountain of questions. Soren turns back to his cooking, lowering the heat of the gas burner so that the spluttering of fried goods dulls to a quiet spitting."He is currently being comforted- if one can even call it that, in your room with Kal. He came with me looking for ways to heal you, but none of the options would have worked, or at least, there is no guarantee we would have saved you. So, quite naturally, he is in a bit of a state, but doing his best to process the realisation that you are no longer who you were. But he is a loyal fox, I do not think you need to worry. Although, hell help his heart, I think he would much rather be alone right now than with Kal, he seems heartbroken. I will not deny it, I don't think he was too happy about the idea of your potential transformation, but he knew it would save you, so he will have to live with it."My heart skips a little. I see.I suppose I should have expected that much and yet The throbbing of my heart is not one to be pushed aside so lightly. I have caused Ithuriel nothing but pain and suffering. First I have grieved him by pulling him away from his people in Illistrae, from his home, then rejecting his love, and now I have become the very thing he has been incessantly taught for years to hunt. I can't imagine the torment he is going through.Frowning, I bury my face in my hands, holding back a sob. I have been awful to him. Truly, utterly, awful.Soren moves back round to flip over the bacon with his spatula, shrinking away to avoid getting splattered by the molten droplets of fat and oil that rocket themselves out of the sizzling plan. Then he gives me a long look up and down, a look of sympathy playing in his features. Picking up the soft melancholy that swims in the simmering depths of my heart, Soren carefully places down the spatula, padding his way softly across the room to meet me. He stops beside my chair. Delicately, he leans down on his haunches, lifting up my chin with his fingers. "You know, I have an idea. How about we go visit him later, hmm? That way you can speak to him in person, tell him about your situation, perhaps even convince him that being a hybrid isn't so bad? Just remember whatever happens, I am here for you and I will support you, no amount of transformation will change the fact you are my Queen. And if he is a good friend, he will realise that too."I nod absently, not fully taking in the words, too numb to reply. Soren runs a thumb tenderly across my cheek."You had something you wanted to ask, darling?"I sniff a little, wiping my eyes too look at him."Oh right, yeah. But its a pretty dumb question now," I say, giving a sideways smile, my head sinking a little. The Prince leans in dotingly to place a kiss on my forehead."Of course its not, my darling. Excuse me while I attend to your breakfast, but you are free to ask me," he laughs lightly, before arising once more to attend to the sizzling eggs and bacon on the pan. From the smell that rises around the room alone, my stomach lets loose a low growl, rumbling with a hungry anticipation. Nervously, I draw my hands down over my stomach to muffle the sound, knowing in actuality that such efforts are futile in light of Soren's superb hearing.I suppose one of the perks of being a hybrid is that I will also have such hearing, too. But I doubt that will be reason enough to convince Ithuriel of its greatness."Alright, fine, but it really is stupid," I sigh, running my hands through my hair. Soren clicks his tongue disapprovingly."No question you could possibly ask could be a stupid one one. By all means darling, ask away."I clear my throat."How old are you?"I doubt the reason for the Scarlet Princes hesitation is from any attempt to make me feel anxious, equally I don't doubt the sincerity of his words, but there is something in the slight tenseness of his form that makes my stomach lurch with a jolt of worry, if only from the dreaded anticipation of the answer.Soren puffs out a lasting breath."You really want to know? Haven't all your people's tales of me given you a rough estimate?"An involuntary grimace flashes across my face at these words. All things considered, I can hardly trust the word of my people any more, for from an array of ancient and avid vampire haters, the only information I would be getting from them is one of falsity rather than facts. They told me that I should be afraid of these creatures, that there was nothing worse in the world than the monsters of stone and ice- how wrong they were. I expect back then they didn't anticipate their marionette of a Queen to be married to the high Prince of the vampires, I suppose I didn't either, but the fact remains that the words and tales of my people cannot be presumed as true. It has been 3000 years since an angel and a vampire have met on any other terms than the battlefield of war. It's high time that changed.But instead of this, I simply say."There are a lot of tales about you, some call you a monster, others call you the manipulator, but your age was never really factored into the equation. Why, is it a touchy subject for you?"The Scarlet Prince shakes his head in denial, but no words come from his mouth.He runs a free hand through his hair as he scoops the bacon and eggs onto an ornate, carved white plate, sliding the plate across the table to me as he sits down opposite, blowing out a breath. Languorously, he rests his elbows on the table."Well okay, if you must know, I am one thousand and twenty seven. Does that bother you?"It is quite obvious that Soren is looking for some sort of reaction, peering at me from behind his hands, head tipped, golden eyes slanted with a tentative curiosity. Instead, I just pull the plate of food towards me, pluck a knife and fork from the holder in the middle of the table, and start digging in."How fascinating."
