The Vampire's Consorts

Prologue: Returned in a Coffin

The people in the outskirts of the villages whispered amongst themselves, carrying baskets of crops and washed laundry above their hips or shoulders as they went about their days, waiting for their soldiers to come home. 

"This war has gone on for two years now, when will our children be coming back?" One farmer said to his friend, as they waded through the water that went about as high as their calves. 

"I haven't received any letters for weeks now." His friend simply responded, shaking his head low. 

He was collecting the berries, sifting them from the water and into his basket. 

Spring was here, yet all the citizens throughout the South-Eastern kingdom acted about as upset as some would during the cold, empty winters. 

All the old parents have been waiting for their children to come back home, some wives with children too young to be left alone were hiding their worries of their spouses from the children, some husbands, considered much too weak or ill to be recruited, were working day and night to make themselves too busy to be worried, children in their adolescent years have been left alone with no one but babysitters or trusted friends and neighbors, crying themselves to sleep every night, missing their parents. 

This land, one of many in the kingdom, have been quiet during the daylight, until today, when a messenger from the capital came running through the outskirts, one of many messengers. 

He had leapt out of the horse drawn wagon that had the unmistakable symbol of the royal family, far too excited to wait for the horses and the coachmen to get him to the center in time. 

"The war has ended! Lamphin has driven off Tenjogiri!" He yelled as he ran past the buildings and the markets, his voice desperate to be heard.

"Everyone is coming home!" 

The farmers whispered amongst themselves, skeptical while the merchants began to have more luster in their eyes. Unlike the farmers, some of the merchants would travel to the capital, they recognized the royal messengers when they saw them. As soon as the farmers and other commoners saw how the merchants were reacting, beginning to close up shop, pick up their items and getting ready, they too started to believe it. 

Back in the capital, while they had received the news much sooner, the mood was more, stifling, because the one who had brought the news that their enemies had been defeated, were some of the said soldiers who had come through the gates with a wagon in tow, carrying an opened coffin, covered only by a thin cloth to avoid the people's gazes. 

Presented to the royal couple, the Daori and Daoli, upon entering the palace, was their eldest daughter, who had been missing in action yet still managed to send her letters through the bars of the unknown cell of an unknown enemy territory. 

The soldiers with their burned armor, after having come all the way from the first battlefield that was set on fire, with the others having soon followed, unveiled the body of the eldest Daomin, who had even more burn wounds starting from the edges of her limbs, hinting that she was the fire starter. 

"Your royal highnesses, Daomin Amara has finally come home." One of the soldiers gently said as the royal couple raced down from their seats, down to the coffin. 

Although it seemed fairly rude at first, it was clear that the soldiers only brought her in a coffin as it was the only bedding that they had available, and also the only to accommodate for the condition of her body, and also as a precaution for her breathing state as they traveled back home. Still, this coffin of mere wood and wool lining would be far too unworthy of her.

They both sighed in relief upon seeing the princess's chest slowly rise and fall. Though burned and covered in lashes still bleeding, she still lived by a thread. 

Doctors from all over Lamphin were called as the news spread more, and the gates opened, not just between the different districts of the kingdom, but for a path from the entrance, all the way to the capital, and to the palace for the royal family to greet the ones who finally came home. 

But it was mostly a festival for the people, the other Daomin were there to greet and wave at the people with congratulations and all those grand manners, but the parents were cooped up in the eldest child's room, the young woman breathing smaller and fewer as the royal doctors worked to suture up her slits, press cold damp clothes over her lashes, and delicately work with her burn wounds. 

But those were not her most fatal wounds, rather, she had been malnourished, dehydrated, with internal bleeding that the maids discovered as soon as they cut open the cloth of whatever was left of her under-armor clothing.

People celebrated from the afternoon to the evening, families reunited, but still, more bowls of blood mixed water and clothes were taken out of the eldest Daomin's room and replaced with more bowls of fresh, herbal healing water. 

She slept through her surgery, alarming most of the staff and her parents, even after the doctors, working as fast as they could, nearly forgetting to use the numbing herbs. 

She never regained consciousness, not even to scream in pain as they dabbed water and ointments over the burnt skin, the fingernails leaking blood. 

Her body never even jolted or twitched, her only movement was the slow rising of her chest that was getting less frequent. 

The Daori, growing more frustrated and overwhelmed with all the sudden events and emotions, suddenly screamed for every doctor to leave the room, crouching near his daughter's bed, not even daring to hold her hand that had been wrapped as neatly and carefully as possible, to the doctors' skills.

"She's breathing less, I can barely recognize her." The Daoli sobbed at the edge of her bed, close to falling to the floor with how low the bed was. 

Wrapped in bandages, she didn't look as regal and formal as she used to in her red robes. 

"Damn them!" She shouted, gripping her child's wrist, knowing that the unconscious child was unresponsive anyway, giving it a light squeeze. 

"Tenjogiri! Amaranthe! Valhois! Socovia! Which one of them?!" the Daoli muttered under her breath as she chewed on the skin and nail of her thumb, frustrated. 

Her partner remained silent, his shoulders still heaving from his spent energy of shouting at the doctors and maids, head down low, nearly crestfallen. 

"I should've gone, I should've gone instead. My child, returned mangled and burnt." 

They stayed by her side, though both having different thoughts but one similar action, to stay by their child's side for however long she had left. 

The Daoli sent a message when it appeared that the Daomin was clearly sleeping peacefully, seemingly comatose from exhaustion, and hoped for more time. 

A good amount of the people with medical knowledge throughout Lamphin were already busy either tending to the wounds of returned soldiers, or helping with the dead bodies that were returned thanks to friends, some in pieces, some missing parts, but returned, nonetheless. 

As her partner stayed in the room and wept, she sent an urgent message to the few allied nations they still had good relations with. 

The messenger birds, also wearing light little capes or scarves with the royal symbol on them, each carried letters, variants of each other as the Daoli and her ladies-in-waiting wrote in a hurry. 

To our dear friends that have supported then and now,

We have emerged victorious, our kingdom still intact. We are not requesting any aid for supplies, nor anymore soldiers to aid us, rather we require people with medical knowledge, anyone you can spare. One of our most valued children is alive by only a miracle, however long that miracle may last. 

Send anyone who can help with mortal wounds, magical cures, it doesn't matter.