Dracula and her Bride |GxG||18+|

15 | at least she doesn't have to marry him now?

The silhouettes of drunken men cast long shadows in the light of three full moons. They make a circle around her, trapping her from all sides. The shadows dance and sway on their feet. They are crimson.

Marienne doesn't know what Goddess to pray to. She brings a hand to her empty neck, only to find that her cross is missing. Her mother always insisted she wear the emblem of the Goddess of Death, but Marienne never felt particularly thrilled about allowing Death to take her whenever She wants.

Her breath comes out in frightened gasps. You mustn't let them see your fear. But the chant she repeats to calm herself down is no use. Her heart is close to stopping when, within the crowd, she sees a familiar face.

"Lady Cleremont, is that you?"

"Charles!"

A sense of relief washes over her. Charles is absolutely inebriated, but at least she would be alright now.

"Whatever are you doing, walking about by yourself?" he demands. He sounds absolutely furious.

"Oh. I thought it would quicker to—"

He interrupts her stammer with an icy tone. "I shall have no wife of mine behaving so indecorously. You are in sore misconception if you think you can be as disobedient after tomorrow." His friends snicker at his orders as he lurches forward and grabs onto her shoulder for balance.

"You are quite inebriated, Charles. Drop your hand and let me be on my way." Marienne's voice falters as she tries to stay in control of the situation. Her mind is reasoning that she is in no real danger, but every instinct within her is telling her to run.

"That's Lord Kenworthy to you," he barks. "Know your place, woman."

Lord Kenworthy strikes Marienne across the face, his engagement ring scratching an ugly red mark. It breaks easily through her fragile skin, drawing out a stream of blood. Marienne gasps, the sound sharp with shock. Fear grips her like a vice and she shoves him hard.

"I never wanted to marry you!" All of Marienne's pent up frustration bursts out in those six words. Sharp daggers of anger that are out before she can rethink them. And in those six words, Marienne feels free.

Lord Kenworthy's lip curls into a monstrous snarl. In moments, he has her pushed to the ground. She sees the glint of a steel knife grasped in his hand.

"Leave her, Charles, this situation has gotten out of hand," says one of the men, sounding afraid. "You can always break the engagement."

"And let all of London whisper with scandal?!" His shout rings in the silence of the night, reverberating off the darkness and the moons. "No!" He stabs Marienne's side. "NO!" He stabs her again. And again. "This is the only way I can get out of this!"

Marienne's vision goes black. There's screaming all around her. The screams must be her own because everyone else has left. The anguish is insufferable. Marienne can feel the slash against her side. An unnatural tear, gaping wide. It feels foreign and wrong, and it's not supposed to be there. Marienne knows this, even in her half unconscious state. Her life is seeping out and she can feel every trickle, hear every drop as it spills onto the cobblestones.

The dark, indigo night streaks with crimson, the sky itself imitating the blood draining out of her veins. As her lashes flicker shut, only one thought is left in her mind.

Lady Elisabeta.

Marienne cannot die. Will not die. She made an oath for forever. She won't let Death do them part. She grits her teeth, and gathering all the strength she has left, moves her lips in a final, desperate whisper.

"I renounce Death. Goddess of Darkness...save me."