The Vampire Princess

by P. Mattern

  I looked into his eyes and to my surprise saw vulnerability there. And something else…something close to hurt.

  “I am still deciding your fate. I thought…I thought that you might grow to love me. Our nights together haunt me though I want nothing more than to forget I ever chose you Sex is nothing compared to the intimacies of blood and venom. I have tasted you…in a sense that is a bond that is not easily broken. Nonetheless you must pay the price for your impetuousness. A price that will remind you constantly that you have disappointed the one that elevated you to the status of Princess. Until I decide I shall leave you to your regrets and your present degrading circumstances…

  …BOTH of which you so richly deserve!”

  He turned without waiting for my response, and the truth was, I didn’t have one. I had had plenty of time to argue the circumstances of my present state over and over again in my head. It wasn’t fair that he hadn’t forewarned me of the Prima Nocte. I wouldn’t have LIKED the practice, I would have been upset, but at least I wouldn’t have been as shocked and hurt as I had been. I didn’t think that I would have tried to escape.

  But I wasn’t sure. I had always been impulsive, even in my human life.

  I knew that something was up two days later because the door to my cell opened with a flurry of activity. No less than five ladies in waiting poured in with smocks on over their gowns, followed by servants tugging in a large heavy bathtub.

  The one I recognized from before, Pam , curtseyed and told me, ”You have been called to the Chamber Room. The Prince requested that you be bathed and restored to your former state of beauty, but we must hurry because he is impatient to render a verdict on your indiscretions!”

  I must confess that I was so taken with the prospect of bathing I wouldn’t have cared if she had come to announce my beheading. My chains were unlocked by guards who had been ordered to keep their eyes downcast, rather than ravishing my nude body with their salacious stares. I was helped into the deeply aromatic steaming water by two of the handmaidens. The steam that rose was scented with the aroma of lilies of the valley. It was a calming and delicious fragrance.

  Once I was in the bath, pitchers of water were poured over my head and a rich smelling shampoo that seemed vaguely familiar was massaged into my scalp. Out of the corner of my eye I saw the basket that the shampoo was returned to and noticed that it was a modern commercial brand. It made me chuckle to realize what a bizarre community I inhabited, a land that seemed filled with antiquities and anachronistic practices while importing the best of modern technology and perks.

  As I was helped out of the bath toweled off, I donned a robe and slippers and was ushered out the cell door and up a stony ramp that curve around and stretched upward for what seemed like miles. The feeling of having been buried alive had been real, I realized—I had been held captive in the portion of the silo that was partially underground, most likely in the bottommost dungeon area. The heaviness that had been my constant companion was lifting, and I yearned to see Theda and tell her that I understood why she had slept with the Prince. I was also eager to hear if she was with child by her soldier husband.

  I had to stop and remind myself that I still had to endure whatever punishment the Prince had decided upon. If it was death…and it could well be…I might never see Theda again.

  I entered my old quarters with quiet joy, noticing that all of it was as I had left it. The handmaidens went swiftly to the closet room that held my clothing and brought out several gowns for me to choose from. Some of them seemed to have worried looks on their young faces, as though they feared for me. Their fear reminded me that I might be choosing the gown that I would die in, if the Prince decided to have me killed.

  That thought was sobering. I decided to dress in white velvet, with satin trimmed gold embroidered sleeves and tiny pearls sewn in a design across the bodice. I imagined my blood spilling upon it theatrically. I wondered if the Prince would be in the same foul moon that he had been when I’d last seen him, or if he had relented.

  When at last I was finished being dressed, my hair partially gathered back into a bun and the rest curling down around my shoulders and downward into my décolleté, I squared my shoulders and prepare to face the Prince. Too late I remembered the cultural lean towards maiming those that had committed punishable acts, I hadn’t thought of that before .He could very well take out my eye, as Theda had had hers taken out. Or I could lose something even worse I was given a half cup of blood to drink. It refreshed me but I had been so severely starved for it that I wanted more.

  My emotions were in turmoil as I entered the Throne Chamber. The Prince was not sitting, but standing in front of his Golden Chair, dressed in white from head to toe, looking severe and regal. He was wearing a white mask trimmed with owl feathers. I wanted to laugh.

  The mask made him look like a disapproving owl.

  “Come forward,” he intoned. Two soldiers flanked him, and it occurred to me that they might be there for the express purpose of dragging me away.

  I imagined that I could see into his eyes in spite of the mask that he was wearing,. Somehow I thought I saw sadness in them.

  “Tristina I cannot for the life of me think of any reasonable explanation for your behavior, other than your reckless and impulsive nature. I would like to hear your explanation, briefly, before I describe your consequence—although I should tell you in advance that I seriously doubt anything you say will dissuade me from my judgments.”

  My throat went suddenly dry and a wave of dizziness swept over me. I felt that I had better speak and make it good because for all I knew I was pleading for my life.

  “You call my actions immature,” I began ,”But you give me no credit for my youth and the circumstances under which I was brought here --against my will. I have done my best to adapt to the culture and practices of this realm. Since my arrival I have been forced to adapt to so many changes that were not of my choosing, but thrust upon me. I fought a battle. I was claimed and bedded by you, turned into a half-creature and kept here without my consent. I wonder if you are acquainted with the term ’free agency’? It’s what I was enjoying before you snatched me!”

  I kept looking up at his expressionless face. I was waiting for the axe to fall. Instead he seemed to sneer.

  “AAAAAH Tristina you are so brainwashed by YOUR culture. You are told repeatedly by social media how ‘fortunate’ and ‘free’ you are-at least compared to the rest of the world.

  The propaganda you are fed as a daily diet causes you to be blind to your REAL situation. As a citizen of the ‘free world’ you are imprisoned by a thousand rules and laws. You have to have permits for everything-driving, hauling, building—you work as a slave for modest compensation, your politicians that are supposed to represent you are owned outright by corporate entities. Your neighborhood ’codes’ prevent you from lighting fires, burning trash or even washing your own car in your own driveway. You allow yourselves to be taxed to the hilt and try to live on a meager budget that involves ‘credit’ that is nothing more than legalized loan sharking. Your system dangles that which you desire in front of your eyes and you become debtor to “OWN’ it—but in reality you OWN NOTHING right up until the day you die.

  Even at the point of death you are not free to return to the ground…your body is disposed of by another set of rules and your progeny impoverish themselves to bury you according to another set of social strictures.

  SO-“ he finished, ”Tell me AGAIN how FREE you were? I think NOT! I think I have fucking RESCUED YOU from a meaningless and mundane existence!”

  His voice was shaking slightly at the end of his speech. I said nothing, shocked at his vehement tone.

  And at that moment I hated him.

  Seeing that I had chosen not to reply, he took a deep breath and continued.

  “Are you ready to hear your punishment now Tristina?”

  I could only nod, seething with anger, my heart hurting like a newly opened wound as I realized that I would
never see my family again.

  “Bring forth the WHIPPING BOY!” he shouted loudly so that the echoes of his pronouncement resounded throughout the chamber.

  I didn’t turn around even though I heard the noise of boot heels traversing the stone flooring. In my peripheral vision I could see the image of a young man with unruly blonde hair. I noticed that he was shorter than the Prince, but still a good head taller than I was. He took his place beside me silently, bowing to the Prince in deference.

  The Prince once again turned his attentions to me.

  “Tristina I OWN you now, like it or not…at least here in THIS kingdom we will not lie to you about your true standing. It is my hope that, in time, and in MY HOUSE, you will grow to understand and adjust to the fact of our permanent connection—forged by blood and venom and as sure and true as if you and I were chained by links of iron to each other.

  This is Oliver. He is my childhood friend. I trust him with my life and he has agreed to be your Whipping Boy for the duration of your stubbornness.. This he does to honor me as his Sovereign and to show gratitude for my favor.”

  The Prince gave a nod to Oliver, who bowed again, and then the Prince said to me,

  “WELL? Do you have any questions? Your tongue seems to not be doing you any good! If you can’t speak with it I should employ it in other endeavors!”

  I could feel a flush creeping up my neck—the signal my body gave me that I was about to get recklessly annoyed.

  “HOW DARE YOU?’ I shouted, the volume on my voice turned up just a notch higher than when his majesty had been yelling at me. I noticed with grim satisfaction that I’d made the two soldiers flanking the Prince jerk with my vehement outburst, and I continued my own tirade, not caring if I lost my front teeth or got a black eye for my efforts. It felt too good to stop.

  “You are a DICK!” I yelled, “And a DICK that hides behind a mask is a COWARDLY DICK! Show yourself! NOW! I demand it--as the VAMPIRE PRINCESS I demand it!”

  To my dismay the Prince appeared unperturbed.

  “Now that you have insulted me in an unspeakable way, Tristina, I will give you a demonstration of the duties of your whipping boy Oliver. He is a highborn and educated young man but you are about to witness just what will happen to him each and every time you displease or disobey me.

  GUARDS!” he shouted, “Fetch Collosos with the whip!”

  It was less than 45 seconds later when a huge man with a bald misshapen head and a hump on his back appeared with a cat o’nine tails, a whip with nine tails of braided leather attached. Wordlessly Oliver stepped forward and loosened his white shirt until it fell from where he’d had it tucked into the waistband of his pants. His back was broader than I had imagined, and his arms long and muscular.

  Collosos looked to the Prince, who gestured in my direction by nodding.

  “Place him so that Tristina gets a full view,” he said, his voice cold ”Then begin! I think he shall have six lashes-two for questioning me, two for the first insult, and two for elaborating descriptively on the insult!”

  As I watched I horror, Collosus , holding the whip in his left hand struck Oliver’s back in an X pattern, striking first one side and then the other. Immediately angry red welts arose on Oliver’s back. I started forward to stop Collosus but found myself flanked by two sentry men, who held me in their iron grasp so that I could not move any closer.

  The beating continued uninterrupted until Oliver had a star spray of whip marks on his back, some of which were starting to bleed.

  I realized as the sentry men released me that I had been crying, the tears squeezing unbidden from my eyes. And I understood why Oliver was my ‘whipping boy’. That every time I displeased the Prince he would be punished for my mistakes.

  Oliver was breathing heavily as the whipping ceased. With meticulous care he placed his arms into the sleeves of his shirt and rebuttoned it. I could see blood seeping from his wounds and blooming outward on the back of his shirt, but he neither cried out nor said anything until he turned to me and said with a bow.

  “In your service, Princess.”

  I saw a slight smile appear at the corners of the Prince’s mouth as he saw the shocked look on my face..

  “I see that you now grasp the gravity of your actions and their consequences Tristina. Your outbursts will no longer be tolerated, and Oliver will bear the brunt of your impulsivity!

  You are now dismissed. I may come to your chambers later—until then, you will be confined to them.”

  Oliver kept step with me as we walked to the Royal suite of rooms. Guards walked before us and also behind us, but they kept their distance, allowing me to speak to Oliver without the fear of being overheard.

  “I am so sorry,” I said ,really meaning it, “If I had had ANY idea that he would take his anger at me out on you I wouldn’t have…have…”

  “…totally DISSED the Prince the way you did? Like you were raised by wolves and have no social skills--not to mention survival skills-- whatsoever ? I imagine that is true, and I accept your apology.

  But I’m used to it you see,” he continued,” Although it has been years. I grew up with the Prince …and because royals can never be struck or reprimanded by anyone other than the King and Queen, I also served as HIS whipping boy.

  Very creative of him to make me YOURS by the way. I have never heard of a female having a whipping boy.”

  I looked at Oliver, astounded.

  “So wait—you took beatings for the Prince when he misbehaved as a child? Were you whipped often?” I found that I was fascinated to think about what the Prince must have been like growing up.”Was he an unruly child?” I added.

  Oliver smiled fondly.

  “Terrible,” he told me,” A little hellion actually. .And all over the place—I think he invented ADD! Total potty mouth if he didn’t get his way, always testing the limits. I think he liked showing off .His antics made the staff have to cover their smiles with their hands. He always liked to play to an audience.”

  I couldn’t reconcile what I knew of the Prince to Oliver’s description. The Prince seemed the epitome of reserve and decorum.

  Except when he was with me in the bedchambers. He HAD seemed very different then. I felt a pang in my heart remembering what it felt like to be intimate with him. He had awakened me when he’d taken me into his bed.

  As much as I wanted to hate him, it was impossible to forget what had happened between us. My body was apparently a traitor—it had not forgotten his touch even though I had pushed those memories out of my conscious mind.

  For the time being I dismissed my thoughts. I was eager to hear more about the Prince.

  “Did he always wear the mask?” I wondered aloud, looking at Oliver, ”I’ve never seen him without it. And I don’t think he is deformed or anything. I don’t get it. Why does he have to wear it?”

  “He’s rather decent looking actually,” Oliver answered, ”And he hasn’t had to wear it for his entire existence. Only from the age of thirteen on—that is considered the age of manhood in the realm. There are very few that are privileged to see him without the mask, just his family members, and few others.”

  At the mention of the Prince’s family my curiosity was piqued even more intensely.

  “How many members of the royal family ARE there?” I wanted to know. “I knew that there must be a King and Queen…but does he have siblings? Brothers or sisters?”

  I tried to imagine the Prince with siblings, and couldn’t. He seemed such a solitary and brooding figure to me.

  Oliver hesitated, then said in a low voice ,”The Prince had a younger sister, but she died. It’s a long story, and I am afraid that it will have to wait for another time.”

  We had reached my chambers. Oliver bowed to me at the doorway and motioned me to go ahead of him with a sweep of his hand. His eyes met mine, and I saw something in them. He wasn’t like the others that surrounded me. The look we exchanged reminded me of the first time I had had a conversation with Theda.
There was a sense of acceptance and familiarity.

  I thought at that instant that he, too, could be my friend.

  There was a tea supper laid out and a blazing fire going. A large decanter of blood on the tray captured by attention to the extent that I could take my eyes off of it. I involuntarily licked my lips as I stared at it.

  Nothing I did seemed to escape Oliver’s notice.

  “Is the Princess thirsty?” he asked in a slightly teasing tone, as if it weren’t obvious. He quickly poured a golden goblet full of the liquid and handed it to me. I downed it in a few swallows. It tasted like warm strawberries on a summer’s day-piquant and sweet and curiously refreshing.

  As I held my glass out automatically he had already anticipated my need for a refill and as he tilted the decanter he remarked ,”I know you haven’t been told this, but it might be good to leave some room for human food. As a half vampire you may feel that you can live on human blood alone, but such a rich diet will only increase your bloodlust, Princess. You might consider pacing yourself.”

  I drank the second goblet more slowly.

  “You can call me Tristina you know,” I said to him, “Or even Tris—my nickname. And I appreciate the advice-forewarned is forearmed as the saying goes. Human food doesn’t seem as appealing anymore. But what have we here?” I asked, for the first time noticing the steaming delicacies on the heavy tray.

  “A steamship round of beef, medium rare,” he told me,” and several sides of vegetables in cream and butter, and some fresh crusty hot bread with lingonberry preserves—do you mind if I join you?”

  “I INSIST that you join me,” I answered, smiling. Suddenly I felt almost festive…I was still alive, and I had pleasant company and much more pleasant surroundings than I had awakened to several hours earlier. I was looking forward to seeing Theda also. Oliver first served me a sampling of all the foods, then made a heaping plate for himself and settled back into a comfortable chair opposite mine. With my dinner I had wanted only water, but the extra flacon on the tray held an effervescent white wine instead. Between the wine and the blood that I’d consumed, I felt a fuzzy warmth radiating from inside me that I recognized from my human life, when my friend Brenda and I had sneaked coffee liquor from her parent’s liquor cabinet.