Delilah and the SHITS

The Plan

Sylas Briarwood sat on the right of the Baron of Whitestone, staring at the third de Rolo child. Percival, he believed his name was. Quite handsome, with his brown hair and oddly shaped glasses. He wore a detailed royal blue coat on top of all typical lord's attire.  The conversation continued. Sylas found himself impressed by Percival's grasp of tactics and strategy, and admiring his mind. And other prominent features. Eyes that took in more than he should have seen, their darting betraying the thoughts whirring in his head. His hair looked soft. Not that it mattered.  Sylas looked toward his wife, raising an eyebrow to ask if she was ready to siege the castle. He had turned her into a vampire the night before, as a way to seal their eternal partnership, but now he was questioning that decision, not that he'd admit it. And the Percival lad... the boy intrigued him. He would get all the information he could out of them, and then he would give the order to kill all of the de Rolos.... all except Percival.

***

Delilah laid a hand on Sylas's arm. The battle was over, and Whitestone under their control, but Silas was still on edge.

"We should go inspect our new dungeons. Make sure that the De Rolos don't have a secret escape route or anything."

"Sounds good. We don't want any of them getting out and riling up the commoners," replied Delilah. Sylas escorted her to the dungeons, and opened the door of an empty cell.

"Sylas?" Delilah questioned. Sylas shoved her into the cell with superhuman strength, and as she fought to keep her balance, she tripped on her skirts, falling into the wall and banging her head so hard her vision went white. "Sylas?!"

"Sorry darling, you don't seem to be worth my time anymore."

All she now saw was black.

***

Percival pounded on the bars of his cell. He was in the dungeons, with at least some of his siblings. Whitney was on his left, Cassandra on his right, and Vesper was across from him. They seemed to be alive.

Scanning the shadows, Percy called out quietly to his brothers and sisters, "de Rolo roll call. Sound off if you're conscious." From his side, he heard a distinctive male voice.

"Julius. Present and conscious. Various shallow cuts."

From across from him, Vesper raised her head. "Vesper. It's me, I'm here. Evidently, I've sprained my ankle."

She looked expectantly across at Percy, knowing who was next, age-wise. Percival cleared his throat. "Percy. Alive. I think I hit my head. There's blood from above eye level, anyways." He listened.

There was a short pause and then Oliver spoke up. "Oliver. Conscious, obviously. My chest hurts--a lot. Whitney, are you-"

His twin's voice cut him off. "I'm fine, Oliver. Whitney de Rolo, present and uninjured." There was a pause, as she waited for Ludwig to speak up. Whitney spoke again, voice quavering slightly. "Ludwig is next to me, he--he's dead."

From Julius's direction came a low "Shit."

Cassandra responded from next to Percival, voice slightly higher than usual. "Cassandra. Here. I'm fine." Percy crouched in the low-ceilinged cell, and carefully explored the blood trail that had spotted his coat collar. It seemed to be a cut across the left side of his forehead.

"Did anyone see what happened to Mom and Dad?" Oliver asked.

Vesper hung her head. "They're dead." She said in a strained voice. Percy could hear Oliver start to cry. He held back his own tears. His small magical gifts could do nothing in this circumstance.

"Well. What do we do now?" Julius asked. "Does anyone have a plan?"

Percy started to check his coat pockets for useful items "Everyone, check your pockets." The girls soon came up with nothing but jewelery, having worn formal dresses. Julius had a pocketknife and ten gold, and Oliver had a stick of sugar candy. It wasn't a lot. Percy investigated his many more pockets. There's some advantages to wearing a coat, aside from looking good. He found a note from his mother in one pocket, and in another-hah!- a pair of Cassandra's lockpicks.

***

Delilah opened her eyes to see a young, brown-haired girl she vaguely recognized in the torchlight on the other side of the bars. A De Rolo child, seemingly. Escaped, definitely. "Wait," Delilah whispered out into the blackness.

The child in the passageway flinched, and whipped around. Seeing the occupant of Delilah's cell, she quickly composed her features into an unforgiving, regal mask. The girl raised a set of lockpicks, mask of regality still there. "So, Lady Briarwood, any reason I should let you out of here?"

Delilah straightened, trying to look composed and in charge of the situation. "Well, I know the weaknesses and strengths of all of our- Silas's defenses. I can tell you what his plan was. And who he had suborned among your nobility. He betrayed me, and put me down here. And... I need to get out of here. Please. I don't know what he's planning for me, but it won't be good." The girl seemed to debate within herself for a minute, and Delilah thought hard. Oh, right. She is a de Rolo, the youngest one... Cassandra, I think. Yes.

"Cassandra, please." She shakily stood up, rubbing her head.

Cassandra looked sympathetic. "Did you hurt your head? Is it a concussion?"

Delilah winced from the splitting pain. "That wouldn't be a bad guess," she stated. 

Making up her mind, the young girl leaned forward, and applied herself to unlocking the door. "Fine," she said flatly, above the lock, "But you better not try anything." the lock clicked open, and Cassandra pushed open the door. She paused, to see if the older prisoner would make any attack, and then entered. Using the slight light from a torch down the passageway, the young girl inspected Delilah's forehead carefully, before holding the sides of her head and turning it to face the light better.

The splitting pain arced through her head, and Delilah winced, biting down hard to stop any loud noise that might alert the sentries she knew were posted in the hallway. That is, unless Sylas's plan from the beginning had been to dispose of her. But... Sylas had seemed to care. At least, when he gave her all his capabilities, transformed her from his love to his eternal mate... I don't know if he ever really loved me. Probably not. Move on. But it was harder than that. 

Cassandra's voice summoned her back to reality, "I think you're right. About the concussion. I don't have much medical training, but Whitney got a concussion once, and it was like this. Your eyes are all pink, and it hurts when I touch it, right?"

Delilah blinked back to the moment, and nodded. "Yes. Well, it won't stop our escape." I hope. "Do you know any ways out of this dungeon? The main passage is guarded. Not that they could stop us of we really needed to escape, but the castle and route will be even more guarded."

Cassandra blinked. "Actually, there is a passage out of the castle from here. Oliver and I used it for hide and seek one time." Delilah stood up shakily, and tried to ignore her headache. The world spun a bit, but she adjusted to it. I could hold a weapon now. Not that it'll do me much good if I'm too dizzy to use it.