Darke Chronicles I: Where the Departed Come to Die

A Bloody Wedding

To be invited to a vampire wedding is something of the highest honour, to be invited to a royal vampire wedding is something else entirely. Something so great to put into words. Ineffable. This wedding, however, was sure to be the marvel of the century. Now that people had actually seen the princess, they were pleased to say that she lived up to the mystery of her. 

In Alma's mind, the wedding began after the vows had been said. After the dance, and the feast, and when she was in her chambers for one last night.

The service had been long and dreary and Alma had to be candid that she had not enjoyed any ounce of it. Demetrius, on the other hand, had this pleased grin on his face for the duration. This only added to Alma's repulsion of the whole ordeal. Oh yes, she was sure that Lord Darke was able to provide but it would not change Alma's appetite. Some enjoyed goose, Alma did not. Alma had a refined palate, she was particularly fond of French delicacies. Despite this, Alma looked picturesque at the altar, blood goblet in hand.

Alma was what the vampire race referred to as a Prime vampire, a vampire almost at full power. Soon enough she would become a Master Vampire and thus set out into the world to grow her own coven. Eventually she would have the same status as the Count, Grand Master Vampire.

Physically, Alma appeared young and naive but truthfully she was one of the oldest vampires in Europe. Alas, she still had a lot to learn but Alma always had a thirst for knowledge. What she was deeply concerned about was whether she would be able to even become a Master Vampire where she was going to move to. She didn't even know where Demetrius Darke resided, she was a tad worried about that too.

The orchestra played a gentle tune as the wedding guests began to filter into the banquet hall. Unlike the engagement party, the humans were already waiting on the tables like pigs, ready to be harvested. Some of the guests were insatiably thirsty, licking their lips and smacking their tongues against the roof of their mouths.

Alma, clad in her wedding dress, sat herself down at the head table beside Demetrius, he had not let go of her hand since they exchanged their vows. Alma thought his touch would have repulsed her but it felt welcoming, warm even. Her heart beat steadily in her chest.

"All this performance for us, dear." He whispered to her as they sat down. It was just the two of them at the table.

Alma hadn't stopped thinking about the kiss they shared at the altar. She had been dreading it since the engagement. In truth, she had not ever kissed a man. The very thought of it disgusted her but when her lips connected to his the world was quiet. She felt ashamed. Not for herself really but for her feelings for Sélene. The two of them hadn't been distant at all since the engagement ball and nor did Alma's feelings falter for her. It was really a predicament if there ever was one. Alma felt confused, lost even. What would become of them once they were at Demetrius' home.

"I don't think I will ever be used to so many people looking at me." Alma whispered.

"I wouldn't worry," Demetrius shook his head. "It'll soon be us, and Sélene too. I'm sure you appreciate the quiet."

"Hmm."

"There is a lot of it at Deadwater."

"Deadwater?"

"The house. Deadwater Manor. It was gifted to me by my father." Demetrius looked forward with the mention of his father. "Funnily enough, I only met him once. I was thirteen. Never saw him before or after."

"What is he like?" asked Alma. "I've always been curious."

"Complicated." Demetrius said simply. "He is what you would imagine whilst simultaneously being everything opposite. He left me money, still does now, and the house then that was it."