Bloodstains and Betrayal

March 10th, 1850: Kuhmo, Finland

Mother of Russia, how many surprises could there be...?

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"Madie."

The voice split right through my dream, my eyes fluttering open. When My vision focused, I saw that Arkadi towered over me, holding a finger to his lips.

"Arkadi, what in the name of Mother Russia could you possibly want at 5 in the morning?" I hissed, looking up at him. He nodded toward the door, taking a couple steps back.

"Meet me outside, don't wake him up." He whispered, pointing to Vlad. He then slipped outside, softly closing the door behind him. Frustrated, I sighed quietly, slowly sliding out of Vlad's arms.

I grabbed my jacket off the hat rack as I proceeded toward the door, taking one last glance at Vlad before stepping outside.

The chill of the wind instantly swept across my face, looking up at Arkadi with an unamused expression on my face.

"What do you want?" I growled, rubbing sleep from my eyes.

"Walk with me."

"Walk with you? Arkadi, it is 5 in the morning, and you want me to walk with you? Have you lost your mind!?"

"Just come on, alright?" He said, a smirk twisting its way onto the corners of his lips. I let out a defeated sigh and followed behind him, trying to keep myself from saying anything that would cause a shouting match.

"Fine."

"Look, this is important." He said, drawing in a sharp breath. The smirk disappeared from his face, replaced by a serious expression. He slipped his cloak over his shoulders, sending me into panic.

"Arkadi, put your clothes back o-"

"Relax, I have stuff on under it, Mother of Russia get your mind out of the gutter!" He hissed, shaking his head in disappointment. "You're starting to think like Roman..."

"S-sorry..."

"It's fine..."

He took off his cloak, and I about fainted when I saw what was under it.

"W-Wings... You have w-wings..." I stammered, ruffling out my own pair of wings. He nodded, pulling a sword from his belt. The blade was a soft ivory color, giving of a dull glow. He re-sheathed the sword, a mischievous look sparking in his eyes.

"You're not the only legend around here anymore." He said, stretching his wings out. "Servile royalty, that's me."

"I see... Is the sword your given weapon?" I asked, reaching up to touch one of his wings.

"The Holy-Bone. But an old friend of mine called it... Hope." He smiled, the look on his face shining with that exactly.

"I see. I like it..."

"Now, there is one thing I'd like to ask of you." He said, rolling his head on his shoulders.

"Which would be...?"

"Teach me how to fly." He answered, an embarrassed look on his face. "I tried, but I couldn't do it..."

"It didn't just come naturally?" I asked, confused.

"Nope. So... Can we fly?"

"Now?"

"Well, yeah."

I sighed, a swirl of icy breath escaping my mouth. Now, really? At 5 in the morning? I just wanna go back to sleep, Mother of Russia...

"Fine. But first, put your cloak back on and slice wing holes through it. Like mine." I ordered, turning to show him what I had done. He did as I said, wings cutting through the material like a knife through warm butter.