Sorry guys, life's just catching up to me. It's a bit annoying to alter the plot through Mavis's perspective because if you've read the previous book, her title was 'the Mysterious' and being in her head all the time kind of ruins the purpose. Overall this book is just getting on my nerves the more I reread it. Regardless, I don't want to change it now and let's just keep going.

In other news, how are y'all doing?
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"To nurse a viper"- an idiom for showing kindness to someone who will proudly betray it.
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I don't look in the mirror very often. I don't like looking at it for long periods of time. I suppose I don't like how a new reality hits me every time when I'm brushing my teeth. I suppose just have one of those faces. When I did glance, a shiver ran down my spine.

I don't know what it was, really. Was it the lionlike gold in my eyes instead of the two average onyx beads? Was it the ridiculously long braid of salt-and-pepper hair worth at least more twenty years? Was it the wrinkles on my forehead? The sudden laugh lines? The suddenly sallowed skin?

This wasn't my face! I didn't look like this the last time I looked. But when was the last time I looked?

I know I didn't look like this the day I touched a knife for the first time. I shut my eyes tight and it took a few agonizing seconds for me to dive into the world of memories, but I managed to.

I recalled that glint of steel, my viper's grip, and the control I had in my hand.

It was retaliatory, wild, and glorious. A flame I unwittingly nurtured and fueled in my heart. A flame I promised to protect as it burnt within. I burned in it whenever I witnessed injustice. Half the time my actions were just to make the pain stop, and the other half were just because I fucking could and the thrill of it distracted me from the pain. I may not have been on top of the world, but by God, was I content.

I recalled the manner in which I could carelessly flip a knife as quick as a switchblade, and stab with it as deep as a scorned woman's stiletto heel.

I could lightly peel soft engravings of grass tufts, carefully chisel the rays of an eternal sunshine, hack wood into becoming joints of a foundations of a strong home.

It was unlike my father's icy detachment or Vlad's suffocating nature, but something far more powerful.

Vlad... Dracula.

Your blade is dulled, the fire is doused, and your senses are lulled. Have you forgotten the years?

Years?

I recalled this thought process, but why did it feel so unfamiliar? I feared what would happen if I kept going on this train of thought, but now that day had come. I remember why.

"Mavis drăga, are you alright?"

I found myself to be leaning on my elbows resting on either edge of the wet sink, holding up my body as if my knees had buckled. I quickly got myself standing upright again, and turned to a very concerned Vlad, he was exactly the way he was the first time I'd seen him.

Which was just this morning.

Wasn't it?

Years, Mavis. Years. It has been years since then. What have you been doing since then?

"I didn't do anything." I whispered in horror. I turned back to the mirror, and a skull with white eyes and fangs looked back at me, making me scream in terror.
_________

I screamed myself awake, well actually gasped like a fish out of water.

Let's see, after passed out sprawled on a row of five chairs including their metal armrests at some German airport, the plane seats with my legs folded into my chest, and then a night at the asphalt of some castle ruins, I must admit that it was nice to finally find myself laying limp into a cool cushy mattress with crisped linen and feathered pillows, the feeling against my skin was definitely nothing cheap.

What didn't feel nice was the pounding headache from fainting out of hunger, stress, and exhaustion. I don't know whether it subsided, or I just subconsciously got the hang of dealing with it. It seemed like there was a lot I had to live with now.

A lazy glance under the covers I'd been so neatly tucked under, and found myself only in my shift.

Anger, disgust, and shame all started whirling into a violent tornado, threatening to tear me apart. Suddenly, the comfort of my own knees against my chest seemed like a much better idea. Never in my life had I felt so exposed, so vulnerable.

I started screaming and sobbing the loudest I ever had in my entire life. I was scratching and slapping at my burning face, wet with tears. My skin felt so repulsive, I wanted to tear it off. My mouth contorted on its own, no matter how much I tried to control it. I finally punched the wall behind me, and was never so happy to feel a much greater pain than my sorrow shoot up arm and into my shoulder bones.

There's so many things around me against me, last thing I need is myself being my worst enemy.

We'll get 'em for this. We'll get 'em good. Nobody touches me without my permission and lives in peace.

I let the bedsheets drop back onto my body, resuming to staring a hole into the endless white cage around me, now as a wheezing mess.

It's probably an embossed ceiling.

I can't tell.

Fuck it, I don't want to know.

Nah, it's popcorn. What a bunch of cheapskates.

I wanted to think of anything, anything but reality. I knew it was stupid, and I knew that I knew better than to do so.

But at the same time, I didn't know what to do. If I got away from here and out of Romania, then where would I go? I didn't have my documents, and that wasn't the least of my problems.

He hasn't harmed me, whereas I've tried to murder him every chance I got.

Not yet. He sure is capable of it.

I thought to myself, remembering easily how he'd manage to pin me in my place.

I shuddered and hid my face on my knees. Any man would've at least had trouble with my struggling. The way he was able to hold me like a stray animal or an insect, as if he wanted to let me know he could crush me. The look in his eyes got the message across.

The way his servants practically carried me. Their intentions may not have been to harm, save for that one girl that bathed me, but their capabilities allowed it.

Can't blame her, though. I wouldn't be too happy if I had to scrub some stranger's body at the start of my day.

I needed to know more about these servants. If there were more people here, it meant a chance to find help even if it was slim that they'd go against their master.

Thinking about all this sucked the energy out of me. As much as it stung to fathom, my father must've had all evidence of my existence wiped from the face of the earth by now.

I rolled off the bed and onto the floorboards that creaked like a fire alarm, landing on my fours. But then I froze when I heard distant footsteps thumping closer to the door.

Maybe these freaks had shitty floorboards just so they could hear their prisoners moving around.

I looked towards the large fireplace tucked away where the rest of the room was, precisely at the pokers. Crawling with wide strides towards the cinder-stained area, I perched myself on the little concrete hearth.

I carefully inched my head into the dark hole until half of my body was inside and looked up, only to get a face full of ash and suffocating darkness. Coughing, I quickly got out of there gagged from the smell and claustrophobia.

When I was done, a glint of silver on the other side of the hearth caught my eye.

Ooh la la.

I slowly pulled out an ornate silver poker from the big holder on the other side of the side. I poked the tip, inspected it in my hands.

Does silver kill vampires?

Or was it wood?

Or was it both?

What if it's neither and the whole thing is bullshit?

Fat chance they'd trust me alone with what could kill them, not that they'd need to worry about it.

I can't kill them.

I can't outrun them or hide in their own place either.

But I would be damned dying without trying.

I twirled the poker so the pointy end was facing away and held it close along my arm. I looked around for any hiding spot that obstructed the view from the door, but from the lack of another door to even the bed being just a plain block with no place to hide under. Some extra measures were taken for my incarceration here.

When you can snap a person in half between your fingers, why would you want to do this?

Another creak of the floorboards outside sent me scrambling into the bed, and draping the covers generously over my newfound weapon. I didn't exactly know how to use it, but I sure as hell wasn't going to stay unarmed while in a house full of vampires.

Do I whack his face with it like a baton?

I wouldn't be able to do that with one hand. It was too heavy.

Do I use it like a sabre, like some 'Three Musketeers' cosplayer?

He would break my arm for even trying to pull that shit on him. I didn't even know how to use a sword!

I gazed at the shape of the poker. It wasn't the dainty modern type, but essentially a metal rod. If it weren't for the fancy engravings and flourishes, it looked like it came from a blacksmith's workshop.

A stick with a spiky end.... An idea came in my head and at the time, seemed nothing but epic.

Back when they were nothing but myth to me, I could've probably done a doctorate on vampires. However, I was completely in the dark about it just when I happened to be married to one of them. It was damn confounding.

Finally, the door swung open, crashing into the wall beside it and bouncing back like a stable door. I could've sworn Vlad had just appeared out of thin air, but I could tell he didn't by the door that was still swinging from the force it was pushed, almost as if it was cowering from the aura of the one who walked through it. He wasn't happy at all, as his hands were clasped behind his back and hair neatly tied up with a raven strand over the side of his face.

Grey sweatpants and a silk black button-down under a woolen cardigan lined with what looked like mink fur. As much as I found it irrelevant, I did pick up on his fashion sense.

Are we in a Bollywood item song or something? Why does he keep changing clothes? How long has it been?

Could he even feel cold?

It's fucking winter right now, of course he can.

I clutched my weapon tighter. Usually captors are just as prepared for altercations with their prisoners.

If push came to shove, I hoped he would give me an excuse to hurt him for undressing me in my sleep. I genuinely did not care if he tore me to shreds after that, I wanted the pain in my heart to stop.

"Were you having a nightmare?"

I shook my head.

"Are there bed bugs?"

I shook my head.

"Has anyone transgressed against you here?"

I shook my head. I know he was being sarcastic. He could keep up the 'nice guy' act but he couldn't fool me.

He pressed his lips together in thought, and then he looked up at me again and slightly tilted his head, he wanted to ask me something.

"Were you planning to escape?" He said after the pause.

"No." I replied, nearly talking over him. The quick response unfortunately lead to another long, sullen silence.

He sighed and went on to sit by my side, his thigh unknowingly mere inches away from the tip of the poker. I restrained the urge to glance down.

"Mavis, I understand that this situation has made you distressed," he had leaned in close to me and he put his hand on my knee. "But you must be careful."

Ae harami, bakwas band kar. (Hey bastard, cut the shit)

Although he'd manhandled me so many times already, the way he had gently rested his hand on my knee was downright predatory, he wasn't even feeling me up or anything. Needless to say, he got his point across.

My heart started beating fast and loud enough that I could practically hear it, and by the shift in Vlad's expression I could tell that he could too. His hand moved to rest on the side of my face, making me flinch in reflex, his thumb caressed my cheekbone before pushing a lock of hair behind my ear. I was frozen stiff, begging myself to react when he tilted my face up by two fingers on my chin to look at him.

"I advise you, dragă" He leaned closer to my face and locked eyes with me. I could practically see his fangs that occasionally peeked through his lips when he talked, their ivory glint taunting me more than his words, "to be afraid when you are."

I clenched my hand into a fist to clasp around the poker, fully intending to use it. That's right, I was going to spear him right through his chest before he could even scream, impale him, color my hands with his dark blood.

My wedding henna will be your blood, you dentist's nightmare.

My heart almost stopped when he gently put his hand over mine before I could do anything, while his eyes stayed on me.

He frowned, and sighed in disappointed. While he didn't touch the sceptre, it was clear he knew it was there.

"You haven't ate anything and you've exerted yourself too much. It would also be best for you to get dressed as well before coming to lunch. You will dine in the hall with me tonight." He said, turning to look at the fireplace. Then, something caught his eye and he raised a brow when he noticed something, and looked back at me with raised brows.

"I will send somebody to change your sheets as well." He said to me awkwardly.

Fuck...

Did I piss myself? It did seem like a big possibility given how scared I was. He must be trying to be nice about it.

"Huh?" I squeaked. "Well you should've let me take a leak in the woods if you didn't want me to wet the bed, I swear if you fucking tell anyone-!"

"I was talking about the cinders on your bedsheet." Was all said, after an eyebrow raise at what I was saying. His Adam's apple bobbed in his throat as he stared into my very soul in disbelief, before getting up and leaving.

When he shut the door behind himself, his hearty chortles of laughter resounded in the hallway, albeit muffled through the door.

"Hey!" I called after Vlad. He opened the door halfway and leaned in with concern, as if he hadn't been laughing his ass off. "Where's the bathroom?"

"End of the hallway."

Then don't lock the door, you sadistic jackass

I scoffed and rolled my eyes. "I can't teleport there, you know!"

He stared blankly before looking around in thought of what to do next, as if I'd spoken in Urdu or told him I had three thumbs. "I know."

"Well, how do you want me to piss through a locked door, then?" I said a little louder with raised hands, tired of his wisecracking. He looked offended at my outburst.

"The door is not locked," He said softly.

"Oh," I said with my jaw dropped open. My cheeks turned red, and I looked away.

Then, a random thought hit me.

"By the way, what time is it?"

Vlad cringed, and pointed beside me with raise eyebrows. I followed his finger.

Four blue digital numbers with a colon in between blinked faintly in a white screen built into my nightstand. So that's why everything was so hefty.

While I warily poked at the film on the digital clock, watching as it switched modes and even showing temperature, Vlad stayed in the doorway for a few more awkward seconds. He cleared his throat to have my attention again.

"Mavis,"

"What?"

"Your shoulder." He said, and that was all it took to make me realize practically half of my upper body was exposed due to the shift being so loose.

Not a second was wasted when he shut the door and walked off, before I even started scrambling to cover myself with the duvet.

My frantic movements sent the weapon flying off of the bed and loudly clanging quite a few times before settling on the hardwood floor.

Deciding I had tapped into my survival instincts enough for the day, I decided to get dressed.

Opening the giant double flapped armoire, I concluded two things:

One, that perhaps fashion should have been limited to draping fig leaves like our father Adam.

Second, that there was definitely some magic going on here. I dont know how to explain the amount of clothes, garments, jewelry, accessories, and shoes stuffed in a wardrobe not any bigger than my arm span.

I wish I was being sarcastic, but there was no denying some dark magic was at play here. I just didn't believe- no, I knew it existed. I just wished I never had to encounter it again.

I picked out clothes and a clean towel. I scoffed remembering Vlad's words.

"Be afraid"

"Joke's on him it's not like I haven't been shitting bricks this whole time." I muttered to myself out loud.

Suddenly the door opened again. I rolled my eyes, expecting to see Vlad standing there. But it wasn't.

An ashen blonde-haired boy in a swinging with the door, eyes glued on me. He was about my height and had a sickly pallor. He looked like he was going to either puke or faint, or both. It took me a moment to realize that he was holding onto the locks and knob to support himself.

Walking towards him only confused me more. Up close, it looked like the very life was sucked out of him. Two dark dots marked the side of his throat, old scabs left untended.

He stayed there a few moments, perhaps unaware of his own reasons to barge in.

"Oh, scuzați-mă." I apologized. I don't know why I even did. I wasn't the one who just opened a random person's door.

The man was busy in between keeping himself from collapsing and keeping his eyes on me.

I heard something clatter onto the floor behind me, I turned. Looking down to see a moth ball rolling from the closet and stop at my feet. I bent down to pick it up, then turned around to get back to the creepy kid.

To my surprise, nobody stood there. Without thinking anymore, I shut the door and locked it.

I didn't know what he meant by "afraid", but it sure as hell didn't mean "compliance" to me.

I gathered my clothes under my arm and glanced at the mirror one last time, harshly slamming it shut. Only I was the writer of my fate, and God willing, I planned to reclaim it from these demons and make them pay.