Annnd we’re back! Hope everyone had a great holiday season and that 2014 has been good to you so far. I personally had a hard time staying up til midnight on New Year’s Eve since my body still believed it needed to go to work the next day but I’m not ashamed to admit I’m becoming an old fogey. Anyhoo, back to our story in the works! First post of 2014, here we go!:
Trevor strode up the narrow and winding staircase to the room where Sylvia now stayed; rather the room she was being held in. He’d heard varying reports around the castle, everything ranging from her simply becoming more ill to rumor that she’d chased Ian around a table in attempt to eat him. But whether his love suffered from a touch of the flu or truly danced on the edge of becoming a zombie, she needed some good cheer. With a fistful of colorful flowers and bottle of red wine tucked in his other hand, he could already see the smile on her face.
What he didn’t plan to see was Deigen standing guard in front of the room’s door. Based on the crossed arms and two daggers resting in a scabbard around his waist, any potential in actually seeing Sylvia had great odds stacked against it.
“Why hello there, Deigen!” Trevor spoke with such cheerfulness, the quiver in his voice from speaking with a vampire was almost unnoticeable. “Er, fancy seeing you here!”
Deigen gave a single nod but otherwise remained motionless. “What can I do for you, Trevor?”
Trevor raised both arms to display his bounty. “I wish to present these gifts to my fair maiden in hopes that they will chase away her present gloom.”
The vampire blinked twice before responding. “You want to give those things to Sylvia to make her feel better?”
“Well, yes”—Trevor lowered his arms—“but it sounded better the way I said it.”
“No it didn’t.” Deigen focused on the bottle in Trevor’s hand. “Where exactly did you get that?”
Trevor looked down at his bottle and shrugged. “I borrowed it from a cellar I found downstairs.”
“You mean you stole it from one of our cellars near the stables.” Deigen held his hand out. “Word of advice, Trevor, don’t steal what you presume to be red wine when staying in a castle predominated by vampires.”
“Ewee.” Trevor gladly handed the bottle over.
Deigen held his other hand out. “I’ll take the flowers you obviously stole from the queen’s private garden as well.”
“Will you at least give those to Sylvia?” asked Trevor while reluctantly placing them in the open palm.
Deigen sighed. “Trevor, nothing in Sylvia’s actions thus far have given any inclination she might return your affections. I hate to be so blunt but I really don’t think she likes you.”
Trevor nodded in understanding. “Probably too soon to consider proposing marriage too isn’t it?”
“Propose marr-” Deigen closed his eyes briefly as if trying to quell the onset of a headache. Given the current conversation, this was likely the case. “Trevor, until quite recently, you used to be one of the Keepers’ henchmen and—
“But I switched sides after meeting Sylvia’s uncle,” interrupted Trevor.
“Whom, from my understanding, you met because you were sent on a mission to murder him and steal the pendant fragment he held.”
“But I didn’t do either of those things.”
“Because he was already dead when you got there, the fragment had already been stolen, and you knocked yourself out cold after running headfirst into a wall.” Deigen let out another long sigh, shaking his head. “Trevor, given your particular history and former allegiances, I think expecting Sylvia to have anything other mild disdain for you right now is a bit unrealistic. This is a matter in which, at the very least, you should allow more time to pass. It’s also going to take more than stolen wine and flowers on your part to win her heart.”
“You’re right.” Trevor nodded in agreement and began making his way back down the stairs. “I’ll give it a few days and come back with some chocolate.”
Deigen opened his mouth to offer a final rebuttal to the delusional former villain but a commotion on the other side of the door warranted his attention. From the second crashing noise, this one sounding like broken metal and glass, it did not appear the Queen’s conversation with Sylvia fared well.