Bloodstains and Betrayal

February 23rd 1850: Igarka Russia

I found her. She was here. I didn't think it'd be so soon... A little unexpected sure, but I knew she'd come eventually. Either way, I had her right where I wanted her.

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*As told by Leo

"Dmitry!" I called, leaning further back into my throne. It was blood red, and engulfed in white flame. The colors of the imperials. I let the flames curl around my fingers, marveling at how cool the fire actually was.

Dmitry's figure came into the view, his movements swift and fast-paced.

"Your highness?" He asked, his red eyes flashing up to meet mine. Red eyes were a natural trait in imperials, a trait of superiority. It felt nice to be out of that retched human form that I had worn for years on end. I was superior now.

"Do you have the guest list for today?" I said, as I had ever since I had lost Madie. Dmitry just shook his head, letting out a prolonged sigh as he handed me the page.

"This is getting hopeless my Lord."

Now, if anyone else had said that, I would have let the fires of hell burn them alive without second thought. BUT, this was Dmitry, so I let him live.

I mumbled the names as I read down the list, her own name no where to be seen.

I swore I saw her name for a split second, but when I looked again, it was gone. Probably my imagination...

"Looks like I was right." Dmitry smiled, swishing his blonde hair to the side. Dmitry had been around for ages, and he'd never cut that hair. Ever. He stopped aging at 15, just like every Imperial, and his hair has been that way for all the 415 years he'd been alive. I swore he loved that hair more than he loved his wife sometimes...

"I'll find her eventually" I said, dismissing him with a flick of my bleach white hair, a trait that only followed with the royal Imperial bloodline.

Dmitry offers a heavy sigh, casually walking away. I smirked in amusement, hopping down from my throne. That man was a trip.

I slowly walked across the room, taking a gold goblet from my servant Ivanna as I passed by her.

"Vodka?" I asked, peering into the glass.

"Y-Yes sir. B-but we r-ran out of the usual kind, s-so I figured y-you'd like t-this..." She whispered, refusing to look directly at me. She was so fragile. It sickened me, yet I found it amusing, as I did most torture and misery.

"You Serviles can't do anything right, can you?" I sighed, brushing my fingers under her chin so she'd be forced to look at me. "Or should I say 'Servile', because aside from you, they're all dead."

"That's not true..."

"Excuse me?" I hissed. Her eyes filled with fear, but she still spoke the same words:

"That's not true."

She said it a little louder this time, closing her eyes tight, bracing herself as if I was going to hit her.

Instead, a kept my gaze calm as she slowly reopened her eyes and relaxed a little. It was then I slapped her across the face, leaving a burn on the side of her cheek.

"They're all dead darling." I laughed, throwing her to the ground. "Every. Last. One."

"Arkadi..." She whispers, bringing her head off the tile floor, staring at me with burning brown eyes. "Arkadi's here. So is Kirill. And they're going to kill your sorry ass if it's the last thing they do."