1. BROKEN PIECES
Killian had been laying on his bed, staring up at the ceiling for hours. He'd traced the path of the cracks and broken lines in the stone so many times in his head that he had them memorized. Earlier, a spider had crawled across the ceiling, from one wall to the next, and Killian had watched it's progression with mild interest. At least the spider was free. It was there by choice. Unlike Killian. He sighed and turned to face the wall. The drab, cold wall without even a painting nor tapestry to brighten the room.
The fine furnishings and ample space was but a ruse. It was meant for the confined to feel less like a prisoner locked away in the dungeons and more like a guest with restricted access to the Palace. When you stripped away the illusion though, and were left with the reality of the situation, there could be no mistake. It was a cell. A cage. A well furnished cage, but a cage none the less. Killian often lay on his bed wondering when his confinement would end. Would he be released soon? Or would the Queen finally decide to end his life?
Night after night he wondered this until he stopped. He stopped wondering and he stopped caring. He wasn't even sure how long he'd been there. Time slipped by unnoticed for him. The only clue that the hours had passed was when his meals were brought. Two plates of food a day and one goblet of blood. He was sure it was more than what the prisoners in the dungeons received but still was only enough to keep him alive and keep him from going mad. He was weak from the lack of proper feeding though he suspected that was what the Queen wanted.
Keep him weak and incapacitated. He'd be easier to control that way and less likely to have another outburst. It was a good plan, a sensible one. The Queen knew his mind well because, when he got out of that room, he was going to find Emilia and rip her throat out. Even if he were killed in the process. Death no longer scared him anyway. Vengeance was all he cared about now. Vengeance, and retribution for what Emilia and the Queen had done to his beloved Rowan. The countless days that he had spent in that room were consumed now with thoughts of killing Emilia. Of watching the life drain from her face as she begged for mercy that would never come. Those thoughts were all he had left. They were the one thing that kept him going.
Killian sat up, startled when he heard the familiar sound of the lock on the only door to the room suddenly click and the door itself was slowly eased opened. It opened with a long, drawn out, creaking, moan. Next he heard the tapping of heels on the stone floor. Killian swung his legs over the side of the bed and leaned forward, listening to the intruder close the door behind them and ease cautiously into the main room of his cell. Killian's nerves were suddenly on edge as he wondered who this person was coming into his room. Not guards for they would have barged in, slamming the door against the wall, not crept in quietly as though trying not to disturb the occupant.
It wasn't the servants bringing him food or blood. He'd had his share of blood for the day and the last meal of the day was brought while it was still light out. He looked towards the window with it's silver bars. The sky was dark, too dark for early morning. The blackened sky told him that it was night, probably close to midnight. So, why was someone entering his rooms now? He slowly pushed himself up from the bed and walked to the doorway that led from the main sitting area to the bedroom. The sight before him gave him pause as he stared at his intruder with surprise, and rage. She was the last person he expected to 'visit' him, and the last person he wanted to see. The very sight of her fueled the anger boiling over inside of him and it took all the strength he had left not to rush forward and attack.
Oh, he could just imagine wrapping his hands around her throat, choking her, squeezing harder and harder until he heard the bones of her neck crack and break. Then, when all strength and fight had left her, he'd rip her head from her neck and burn her body to ash. If only he had the strength in him to do it. Alas, the lack of proper feeding had left him barely able to stand let alone kill and, on top of that, the striking glint of silver in her hand had him taking a step back. A silver dagger. So, he thought, She's come to kill me.
***
When humans find themselves in danger they experience things such as a fast beating heart, heavy, rapid, breathing, or damp, clammy hands. These sensations lead to panic attacks, or even caused one to flee in terror. While Caroline certainly felt the urge to flee, the other sensations however, were dead to her. Her heart did not pound nor did her breathing quicken. She had a heart, but she had never felt it beat within her chest and she had never once needed to breath in order to live. Though Caroline had never experienced these sensations in her life, she could imagine what it felt like for, as she opened the door to the tower room and stepped inside, she felt, in her most primal self, the need to turn and run.
As she pulled the door closed behind her, Caroline's own mind was telling her stop, turn around, danger! Her instincts were seldom wrong and the further into the room she crept the more her brain screamed at her to leave but, she refused to listen. What was the greater danger? Killian, in his weakened yet deranged state, or the council learning of her role in Emilia's death? Caroline didn't blame herself. She had been tricked by those devilish specters, led to believe that her very life was in danger. The fault was theirs and theirs alone but, how could Caroline explain that to the council? They would think her mad. If they didn't choose to have her executed they would most certainly lock her away for the rest of her life which, for a vampire, could be an eternity.
For a vampire, death was not the worst punishment that could be given. For a vampire, death was a small mercy in comparison. The worst punishment ever given a vampire was an eternity of darkness, locked away in a crypt, bound in silver chains, with no hope of escaping. Years of confinement without the ability to hunt and feed, no contact with another living creature, and no concept of time...that was a fate worse than death. Eventually the vampire would go mad, becoming unhinged, delirious with hunger, and more beast like. It is a torture more viscous and cruel than any other. Even if, by chance, they were released centuries later, by that time, they would be more monster than man (or woman).
For her sake, Caroline had to ensure that her daughter's murder was not connected to her. Emilia would understand. She would not want her mother punished for something that she had no control over. After all, Caroline was as much a victim in this as Emilia had been. At least, that's what she had convinced herself of. No, her only chance of escaping such a cruel fate was to place the blame on another and, who better than her daughter's maniac of a husband who had already loudly, and in the presence of multiple guards, threatened to kill Emilia himself. Caroline knew that once Killian was captured there would be questions. How had he escaped the tower in the first place? Where did he get the weapon? Those answers could be answered later and, if it came down to it, Caroline could always feign ignorance. It had always worked for her in the past.
Caroline glanced around the outer room and, not seeing Killian anywhere, assumed that he must be in the bed chambers. She sighed a breath of relief but then internally scolded herself for being such a coward. What had she really expected? That he would leap out at her, fangs bared, ready to rip her to pieces? The memory of when he'd attacked Emilia came to Caroline and she was momentarily consumed with rage. The way his eyes looked, dead inside and filled with rage, as his hands squeezed around her throat and the look of terror in Emilia's eyes was enough to make Caroline want to drive the dagger she held directly into Killian's heart and watch him suffer and bleed the way Emilia had. It should be Killian laying dead in the hall outside the Queen's chambers, not her precious daughter.
It should have been Killian but it wasn't and Caroline couldn't allow her emotions to to dictate her actions now. She needed Killian. As much as she despised him, she needed him if her plan was to work. His end would come soon enough but for now, he had a very important role to play and Caroline couldn't lose sight of what was most important. She couldn't very well blame a dead man for Emilia's murder now, could she?
Caroline took another hesitant step into the room, ever vigilant and cautious of her surroundings. One wrong move could mean her death. She gripped the dagger tighter in her hand, holding it against her breast as she moved towards the bed chamber. A shadow moved across the opened doorway and Caroline froze. Her hands shook and her head snapped up as the looming figure of Lord Kilian slid into view. He stood, leaning against the door frame, watching her with narrowed eyes and a scowl upon his face that sent slivers of ice through her blood. His eyes drifted to her bosom, to the dagger she held in her hand and then, he grinned. He grinned like a mad man. There was no reason behind those black eyes of his, no sanity. Killian had truly lost his mind.
