Fairy Bride Ch13: Through Will Alone (Patreon)

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Sheets of rain pelt the Maserati’s windshield, the downpour’s noise rattling Daphne’s antennae.  A bolt of lightning shines over the valleys far below, veiled in the shadow of midnight.  It’s probably dangerous this far up, but it warms her heart, and beckons her like an old friend.

The storm offers calm.  The storm means her feelings are real.  The storm will help her remember.

What she really ought to worry about is Lianna’s driving. The mountain road is narrow and bumpy, but the vampire takes it at speeds Mallory would find harrowing.  She’s not even using headlights.   Daphne tenses as something looms up ahead of them.

“Watch - “

The car ploughs through a sawhorse propping up an ‘AUTRE DANGER’ sign, wooden fragments spinning into the night.  Daphne swallows, pressing herself back into the seat.  “ - out.”

Lianna chuckles, the blue patterns on her skin twisting with her mouth.  The furnace-glow of her eyes pulses.  “Barriers will not stop us, Fraülein.  Get used to it.  After Victoire, you will be a fighter.”

Daphne doesn’t reply, so Lianna focuses back on the road, adjusting the wheel and gears with a supernatural haze.  She must be using aether, Daphne realises, before Lianna breaks the silence.  “You’re troubled.  Speak freely.”

“What did I ever see in him?”  Daphne blurts out.  “Why did I ever agree?  What… broken piece inside of me thought he was good?”

Lianna frowns.  “Don’t dwell on the past.”

“Did I think he was funny?  Did I really swallow all that man’s lies because I’m too stupid to - ”

“Fraülein!”  Lianna cuts her off with a snarl.  “You are misplacing your rage.  Spartans learn from their mistakes, not wallow in self-pity.”

“I’ve only ever made mistakes!”  Daphne growls.  “From the moment I walked into that Market, I let myself get backstabbed and blindsided, over and over again!”

“And that end today,” Lianna hisses.  “As long as you are willing to turn thought into action, you can end your Keeping.  But not if your spirit falters first.”

Daphne gives a short laugh, wiping at her face.  “You’re right.  It’s probably his fault. He probably had it all planned.  Go to the foreign bar, eye down the nymph on stage, show her a good time!  And because nobody’s dazzled her before, the charm will work hook, line, and sinker.”

Lianna gives her a sideways glance, her eyes flickering like embers.  “Really?  Not once?”

“Not like that.  Maybe if I had a bit more experience with… this.”  Daphne snorts, looking at her body.  “And even if I did, how could I walk it back? ‘Oh, hey, Spence! Great time, but heads up, I used to be a guy!  So I’d appreciate it if we took things a little… more…”

Her eyes widen, realisation cutting through the haze of anger.  She just remembered who she was talking to.  “Oh, shi-”

A loud screech drowns out the thunder, and the car skids to a halt, slamming Daphne into the dashboard.  She shakes the colourful spots from her eyes, sitting back up unsteadily.   “L…Lianna?”

Silence.  The vampire is a shadowy silhouette, staring with those bright red eyes.  Light twinkles from her fangs as her hand slowly drops to her waist.

“You’re a…”  The word dies in Lianna’s throat..  “A transexual?”

Daphne raises her hands defensively.  “I-I’m - ”

It happens in an instant, a single blur of motion and pressure.  Daphne sprawls over the pavement, rain on her face and bruises across her back.  The passenger door sways precariously several metres away.  Before she can rise, a hunched silhouette crashes down on her chest.  Lianna pins her with her elbows, growling, and presses a cold bronze knife against her neck.  Daphne screams.

“LIANNA!”

“I will have the TRUTH!”  The vampire snarls. “Why did Harcourt send you here?  To feminise my men?  To surveil my actions?  To goad us all into your… bourgeois degeneracy!”

“Lianna, oh my God, I’m just a girl!”

“You’re a creature of deceit!”  Lianna spits back, pressing the knife forward.  “WHO IS YOUR PAYMASTER? WHO!?”

“N-no one!”  Daphne’s breathing picks up, her eyes glued to the dagger.  “I’m not doing any of that, please - ”

Lianna gives a hoarse, wild laugh.  “All this time, I feared my inclinations had returned, when it was really just your illness!  Weakening me by…”  She shoves Daphne’s head down, fangs growing.  “I’d drain your blood if it hadn’t been tainted with your… Satanic injections!”

“My what?”  Daphne gasps, wide-eyed and terrified.  “I didn’t - i-it was a dryad - “

The knife leaves her throat, and Daphne can finally breathe.  Lianna’s suddenly leapt away, far beyond striking distance, eying her suspiciously.  “A dryad?”

“Yes.”  Daphne starts to get to her feet, rubbing at her throat.  She stops as Lianna visibly tenses.  “It’s…it’s complicated.  She wanted me to…be more like her old Kept.  Girl Kept.  I-I didn’t ask her to - “

Lianna’s only half-paying attention.  Her eyes judder back and forth, wild and panicky.  “But… The Dryads are isolationists.  They have no reason to attack us.  Wh-what medicines do they have that could… how…?

“Magic!”  Daphne throws her arms out wide.  “She used fucking magic!  I don’t really know, sorry!  I was too busy FREAKING THE FUCK OUT to ask!”

“M-Magic?  N-no,” Lianna rapidly shakes her head.  “The Groves, returning?  Have they devised spells to… weaken our race?  They’re going to enslave our nation, like they enslaved the Celts of old-”

“Lianna, I-I don’t think it’s really some grand conspiracy.”  Daphne flicks her wings nervously.  “Astraea was, uh, pretty forward about what she was after - ”

“Harcourt.  That diplomatic swine.  He must have allied them with the Zionists.  And just as he’s meeting the Brusselites, of course!”  Lianna nods to herself, finally smiling.  “He sent the little siren to tempt me, to distract me from his plans.  The fool.  He… he should have known my… Sp-Spartan will would never succumb to - ”

“Can you plan your race war later!?”  Daphne shouts, interrupting her.

Lianna jerks, holding out the knife.  “Do you have any tracking devices implanted in you?  Magnets, vaccines, 5G!?  Has Spencer ever fed you adrenochrome?”

“Lianna!”

Lianna exhales and holsters the weapon.  “Be grateful you are so eager for Spartanhood, hermaphrodite.  If I thought you were a willing participant of these… Judeo-Dryadic schemes…”  She briefly offers her hand to Daphne, before pulling back with a fresh expression of terror.  “Come, inside the car, we’re wasting time.”

Lianna blurs around to the driver’s side, leaving Daphne to soak in the rain.  “Jesus fucking Christ…”  The nymph sighs in relief.

The car horn blares, and Daphne shoots up.  Her face sets as she climbs into her seat.  It doesn’t matter.  After tonight, they’ll part ways, and she’ll never have to see a monster like Lianna or Spencer again.

The white-tipped summit slowly draws closer.

The rain has stopped, and the clouds have drifted away.  As pale moonlight shines upon the snow and rock, Daphne realises that she can see cliff edges in every direction.

Only then does Lianna cut the engine.

From their perch, dozens of little lights draw a constellation of villages, each separated by miles of forests and fields.  The air is frigid, the altitude tightening Daphne’s chest, and the steep slopes all around them make her stomach flip.  But then, she looks up, at the brilliant stars and nebulae painting the horizon.  The view is even more breathtaking than the castle’s.

The vampire jolts Daphne from her reverie.  “Kneel.”

Lianna stands at the door, a small bowl in her hands.  Daphne exits, hesitantly dropping to her knees on the frosty ground.

As Lianna speaks, her skin begins to glow.  Flashing and golden, like the stars above.  “Daphne Louise Harcourt, Kept of Spencer, you stand before Victory.  Your flame is strong enough to seize your freedom.  Is this what you seek?”

“Yes.”  Daphne nods.

“Then repeat.  ‘I am a Spartan.’

“I am a Spartan.”

“‘I shall only know the flame.’”

“I shall only know the flame.”

“‘My blade will always strike true, my mind will always stay sharp, and my spirit will never waver.’”

Daphne repeats the words, her heart racing.

“‘On my honour as a Spartan, I will sacrifice everything.  All that I am, was, and will be, I give to my flame.”

“E-everything?”  A shiver races through Daphne’s spine.  The weight of the word lingers in her throat, stirs old memories of older promises.  “But, I-”

“‘For I know that my freedom,’” Lianna emphasises, interrupting her.  “‘Only lives while it’s burning.’”

Daphne’s lips tremble.  She remembers the balcony, the nest.  There’s no time left.  It’s now or never.

“On my honour as a Spartan, I will sacrifice everything.  All that I am, was, and will be, I give to my flame.  For I know that my freedom only lives while it's burning.”

“Rise.”  Daphne climbs to her feet while Lianna’s fingers dab into the bowl. Daphne can see the blue point just before it’s dabbed across her cheeks.  Three bold strikes.  “Daphne Louise Harcourt.  For your final test, you will demonstrate your will.”

Before Daphne can ask, Lianna strides back to the Maserati’s trunk.  She grows confused when the vampire withdraws the bronze spear… and a watermelon.  Silently, Lianna slams the melon into the spear’s tip, leaving it dangling high in the air.  After stabbing the spear into the ground, she withdraws her dagger and a slip of paper from her belt, cutting the tip of her thumb.

“These are mere ingredients,” Lianna explains, pinning the photograph to the melon’s shell.  “Tonight, you will see them as I see.”

Daphne manages a quick glance at the photograph, hitching her breath.  It’s the same pimply, nervous schoolboy she saw in her copy of Ovid.  A much younger Spencer.  Lianna smears her finger’s blood across the image, layering it with red.  Then, in a flash, sparks begin to light, the air bends and weaves with golden ribbons.  Lianna steps back.  Daphne’s eyes grow wide.

A flickering, life-size image of her husband stares back at her.  He’s young, as in the photograph, but the smile is identical.

“This man owns you.  Your voice, your life, your soul.  And if you fail tonight, he will own you for the rest of his days.”  Lianna turns to her, smirking.  “Does that make you scream?”

Daphne feels her knuckles turn white.  “Yes.”

“Will you roll over like his dog, and spend your life as his Kept?”

“No.”  The word feels like it’s clawing its way out of Daphne’s throat.  She can’t look away from Spencer’s image.  His eyes are glowing, as if he’s giving her a command.

“Tell him.  Hate him.”  Lianna points.

Daphne grows more furious the longer she stares.  The false innocence he’s radiating is answered by a matching heat in her chest.  That smile, that hair, those shining blue eyes - it’s all a mask, one she’d never know if he hadn’t slipped.  That face couldn’t possibly hurt anyone, the mask says.  That face could never smile as those hands fastened chains to someone’s wings.

“Injury dulls, memory falters,” Lianna whispers.  “Sorrow becomes ash and fear always fades.  So hate him now, with every thought and every act.  Because hatred endures forever!”

“I HATE YOU!”  Daphne screams.  The heat inside her is boiling over, screaming for an outlet.  She’s only too happy to give it one. “You lying sack of shit!  You are a fucking liar, no matter what you make me say!”

The phantom doesn’t respond, but Lianna does.  Her hand curls into a fist, her mouth curves into a smile.  “More.”

“You want me to feel sorry for you, don’t you?!”  Daphne snarls.  “With your sob stories and your ‘I’m just trying, darling’ and your goddamn stutter!  Fuck you!  You don’t get my pity!  Not after what you’ve DONE!”

Lianna’s fangs dig into the sides of her mouth.  She doesn’t seem to notice.  “Keep going!”

“You’re old enough to be my father!  Does that ever fucking bother you!?”  Daphne struggles for breath, tears in her eyes.  “You’re shallow and worthless and you make my skin crawl!  I could have had somewhere!  I could have finally HAD SOMEWHERE, and you took it away!  You STOLE that from me, and I will never forgive you, and whatever magic you use on me, it won’t MAKE ME FUCKING LOVE YOU!”

Daphne’s voice cracks and she screams, hurling the echoes of her anguish across the mountaintop.  Tears slide down her cheeks and her knees wobble, but the rage squeezing her lungs isn’t done with her.  And she’s not done with Spencer.

“You’re going to get even older.”  She spits at him.  “You’re going to wither away and die, and in your little dream world, I’ll be standing there to watch them put you in the ground.  I hope you know that, Spence.  That’s all you won!  I’ll be there just long enough for - “

“No.”  Lianna cuts her off with a flourish of her dagger.  Daphne watches wide-eyed as the vampire approaches.  “The flame does not wait.”

Daphne swallows and looks at him again.  “You could barely hold me off last time, but I will go to the press.  The police!  You and your fucking friends can’t bribe them all.  And when they come crashing through our stupid fucking door, I’ll be three steps away.  Free at last, to people who really love me, who actually care what I-”

“NO!”

Daphne’s breath hitches as she looks up at Lianna.  It takes all her strength to not lurch away.

The vampire’s muscles are taut, and phlegm gathers freely around her lips.  Her ears are large and pointed, her fingers grow into claws, and her veins are glowing.  She’s a paper-thin shell wrapped around the slavering, burning monster within.

And Daphne watches that monster flip her knife and offer her the blade.

“Save escape for the weak, Fraülein.  You are Spartan now.”  Somewhere in that horror, Lianna smiles.  “And vengeance is a Spartan’s way.”

Daphne steps back, terrified.  “You… you want me to…?”

“Remember my words, Fraülein?  We stand alone against the world.  Do you believe the police will help you?  That the press will hear your pleas?”  Blood wells up at the corners of Lianna’s mouth, running down her chin in rivulets.  “You have only your hatred.  You are your hatred.  And that is all you need to end him!”

“But…”  Daphne looks back at the flickering image.  The glasses, the pimples.  He still looks like a child.  “I-I can’t attack him.  The spell - ”

“Merely ensnares your will to his.  But it does not have to be.”  Lianna tilts her head, like a predator.  “Once your flame burns bright, brighter than you’ve ever known, no magic or commands will hold that spell.  Even the strongest snares break.  Just like mine.”

A pit grows in Daphne’s stomach, and she can barely process the words.  The Keeping… broken?  “That woman.  Lorna.”  Daphne’s eyes grow wide.  “You were angry when he killed her.  Angrier than you’ve ever been. And… th-that’s how-”

“... I freed myself forever.”  Lianna scowls.  “By piercing my spear through my Keeper’s throat.”

“No.”  Daphne stammers.  “That… I… there’s gotta be-”

“I warned you there’d be sacrifices.  When the time comes, you’ll only have a moment to strike.  So decide now.”  Lianna presses the dagger into Daphne’s palm.  It feels so much heavier than it should.  “Only death can end a Keeping.  Will it be his, or yours?”

Daphne looks at the image again, her head pounding.  The valleys below seem to spin and swirl, and she can hear distant rain.  Her eyes glisten.  How can she choose?

But her heart freezes.  Sweat drips from her brow.  The jacuzzi, the walk, the kiss, each replays in her mind.  Her, holding the mask like a mirror.  Him, pulling her close in her hangover.  Her hair is growing longer, and he tells her that her body forgets.

With faith, I resist.  Without, I am lost.

She’s run out of time.  She’s losing the war.  She must free herself now, or she’ll be trapped here.  Forever.

Daphne stares down at the knife, turning the blade back and forth.  “Do you still have my phone?”  She asks, her voice soft.

“Yes.”  It’s barely a word, more like the sound of a crackling, burning log.

“Is he still sending texts?”

“Constantly.”  The phone’s light flashes across Lianna’s face.  “And he left another voicemail.”

Daphne feels her muscles tense, and she squeezes the hilt.  “Put it on,” she hisses.

Smiling, the vampire presses play.

“Greetings!  You’ve reached Daphne.”  A faint, dead neutral voice echoes out.  Daphne shuffles forward, gritting her teeth and closing her eyes.  She hears that voice in her nightmares.

“I can’t get back to you right now, but feel free to leave a message or contact my husband if it’s an emergency.”

She pictures him as she knows him, not the boy from the photo.  A villain, a monster.  Won’t the world be better when he’s gone?

“Bye-bye.”  Beep.

His voice whispers through the phone.  “Hi, Daph.  I’m really drunk.  And I wanted to tell you a secret.”

Daphne growls.  The flame roars.

“I wanted to say I’m sorry.”

“AHHHH!”  Daphne screams and slams into the mirage, surprised to feel real skin as they tumble to the ground.  She clambers up and kicks him, his head bashing against the dirt.  Still the smile.  Still the mask.

“I got scared.  I freaked out.  I hurt you, again.  And I’m sorry that made you angry.  I don’t want to be like that.  Ever, ever again.”

“You made me this way!  Do you think you can take it back!?”  She screams back, slamming her fists into his chest.  “THAT’S NOT HOW THIS WORKS!”

“I know you won’t be listening, but I’m sorry I hurt you.”

“Shut up!  Shut the hell up!”  Daphne tightens her grip, breathing harshly.

“I’m sorry you’re afraid.”

She lifts the dagger to her eyes, aiming for his throat.

“And I’m sorry that you feel…”  The phone picks up his sob.  “... like you can’t be the real Daphne.”

Daphne stops.  Her arm halts in midair.  The real Daphne?

What could that ever mean?

“It’s been just the two of us for so long.  No friends, no distractions.  So lost in our little game that the world has passed us by, and we’ve both forgotten what really matters.  You wondered why I always come back.  Why I don’t go outside, why I don’t get another girl.  And I was so… hurt… that for a week I couldn’t answer.”

As her husband speaks, she stares at his face.  His young, nervous face, until it all becomes so blurry.  Why can’t she swing?

“But then I remembered the little moments, peppered throughout the day.  Sometimes, in the library, you don’t see me when I come in.  I get to see you in your reading spot, all cosy, and every now and then, you smile.  That’s it.  That’s why I love you.  The only reminder I would ever need.”

Her breath hitches, and she trembles.  He doesn’t deserve this.  He’s a worse monster for saying it.

“Maybe you’ll always hate me.  Maybe we’re doomed to this, day after day.  But that’s not going to stop me, because I know there’s another girl, buried beneath all the rage.  A singer, and a bookworm.  Someone kind, and curious, and weird just like me.  That’s the real Daphne.  The girl I met.  And I’m always going to love her.  No amount could ever keep me away.”

The phone disconnects, but she barely hears it.  It’s lost to her thoughts, the lemon balm, and the rain.

It’s just the mask again, she tells herself.  Even if the words are true.  It doesn’t change what he’s taken, how he treats her, what he’s done.  But she can’t stop thinking about the honeymoons and movie nights, the way he holds her, his laugh.  Memories that don’t cause hate or anger, but only leave her dazed.

They fall on her so heavily, sapping years away.  But she can’t imagine forgetting them, and losing all their weight.

“You don’t get to say that,” Daphne whispers, holding back the sob.  She lifts the dagger higher.  “She’s not yours.  She’s GOOD!”

This is his fault, she remembers.  He’s forced his blood on her hands!  But she thinks of the blade in his chest, the shock in his eyes, and something falls away.  What would the old her think, when it’s done?  Would that girl ever understand this rage?

“What are you waiting for!?”  Lianna’s voice snaps her back to the mountain.  “Take your FREEDOM!”

Daphne’s gaze snaps back to the gaunt silhouette behind her, taking it all in.  The way she jerks back and forth like a puppet on frantic strings.  Her snapping, hungry jaws, the steam of her breath, and her eyes, bright like flames.

“KILL HIM!”

For the first time, Daphne sees Lianna.  Not as a monster who’s angry.  But as a woman who’s afraid.

Who was Lianna Stirling?  Was she kind, thoughtful, or caring?  What dreams did she have, what friends did she hold, before the Keeping took everything away?

She must have been like Daphne once.  Screamed until her voice gave out, and cried herself to sleep.  Was she plagued by the same questions - ‘Why did he do this? Why did this happen?’ - each and every day?

Maybe those questions hurt too deeply.   Maybe she never cared.  But Daphne knows in that moment that whoever Lianna was is gone forever.  Fed desperately to the flames.  Until all her pain had ended, and hate alone remained.

Lianna might have earned her freedom, but she never escaped his Keeping.

If Daphne joins that path, she still won’t win.  The war’s still lost.  Whatever’s left wouldn’t be her.  And that’s the only reason she’s fighting.

“HRRRAGH!”

Daphne slams the knife into the melon, again and again, tears in her eyes.  There’s no hatred in her movements, no sense of blinding rage.  Only a constant, confusing pain.

“AAAAAAHHH!”

By the time exhaustion takes her, the photo’s cut to shreds.  Bits of melon cling to her tracksuit, and juice seeps down the bronze blade.  She lets the dagger drop to the ground, her mind fuzzy, listening to the rain.

“You did it,” Lianna says distantly.  Daphne looks at her blankly, passively noting that she looks again like a human.  The husk is folded back away.  “You are the first Kept I’ve met who has earned the title ‘Spartan.’”

Daphne pretends to smile, but stops when Lianna offers her closed fist.  “What’s that?”

“Aether. My aether.”  The vampire opens her palm, revealing three small glass vials.  She gives them a shake, and they begin to glow a deep crimson.  “When Spencer described his plans for you, I offered my blood as a gift.  Now, as his wife, I offer you the same.  Use it more wisely than he did.”

Daphne squints at it suspiciously.  “What can it give me?”

“Strength.”  Lianna smirks.  “A moment will come when Spencer’s will is weak and his power is failing.  Only then, will you have the chance to strike.  The Orientals have a word for it: ‘Gekokujō’, the low overcoming the high.  It will be a battle of souls to the bitter, inevitable end.  With this offering, your powers will have an edge.”

Daphne nods, reaching to take the vials.  Lianna pulls back at the last second, letting them drop into her hand without touching her.  Daphne snorts once it clicks.  “...really?”

“You might be muzzled by Spencer’s fecklessness, but you are still an agent of Baphomet, and pose severe risks to the British people and their sovereignty.”  Lianna declares stiffly.  “When you are free, I ask that you warn me.  It would be an honour and a privilege to slay you with my own blade.”

Daphne laughs and shakes her head, slowly backing away.  “... I’ll think about it.”

Lianna actually smiles.  “Now clean this mess, before my training ground is infested with ants.”

“Yes, ma’am.”  Daphne mutters, stooping to the ground while Lianna withdraws her spear.  The wind picks up across the mountains, rustling her bright blue wings.  She hunkers down and picks up the fruit…

… like the Kept she’s doomed herself to be.

Lianna had a solution, and that solution has failed.  Everything has failed.  All of Daphne’s plans have backfired, her quest for allies come to nothing.  If she wants to escape, it’s now or never, and she still can’t find a way.  How the hell can she stop him?

She can’t.  This is going to be her life.

So what on earth is she supposed to do?

Daphne releases a shaky breath, her stomach still twisting.  She can’t start worrying about the future.  Dawn approaches, and Spencer’s coming.  She has to start taking one step at a time, solve the problems right in front of her.  And the first…

She needs to figure out what she’ll do about the girl named L Morgan.

continue reading -> 

Hey y’all, Lehanna here.  This chapter was a real marathon to write, so I hope you all enjoyed it!  What are your thoughts?  Is Daphne letting her morality get the better of her, or is Lianna’s path truly one that can only bring destruction?  And what about that Dryad magic in the water that’s turning the friggin’ nymphs gay!?

In all seriousness, we’re about halfway through Fairy Bride, and I thank each of you for joining us on this adventure.  Where does Daphne’s war go from here?  Is there even a war left to fight?  Find out in Chapter 14: The Camera, coming on the ultra-spooky Friday, October 13th!

See ya then!