Forbidden Love (IronStrange)

1.4

Winter, The Year of Our Lord 1617
Stark Castle, Stark Lordship, Isle Of Stone, a province of King Liam VII
Tony

Mother's funeral is a somber affair. No one has ever been laid to rest in the stony ground of Stark Hill, as Father's great-grandfather built a large stone mausoleum for the Starks. I watch icy rain mixed with snow fall around the entrance, whatever words Father is saying a background buzz.

She's gone.

She's really gone.

She will never brush my hair or pass me a plate or help me train again.

She's gone and all I can do is kill the ones who killed her.

The vampires will pay.

They will pay with their miserable lives.

I will spend the next year training, working myself to the bone to learn all sort of attack and defense maneuvers. I will become a master at fighting, and then: I will avenge her. Every vampire upon the Isle Of Stone will die. They have to. They need to. They killed her.

With my fighting skills and the fact that I never lose, I become known as the Iron Man, ruling the lordship with a close grip after my father's death.

Spring, The Year Of Our Lord 1619
Impassable Cliffs, James Lordship, Isle Of Stone, a province of King Liam VIII
Stephen

I sit in our new home, a cave in the impassable cliffs. Snow is melting outside, and tulips poke their heads through, a sure sign that winter has gone. Our livestock lasted us through winter, although our goat looks ill.

The clan has grown some since we fled the camp on that horrible night almost two years ago. Now, Carol and Brunhild sit with Loki by the fire and Bruce stands on watch with Clint.

Carol and Bruce are both fully vampires, but Loki turned Brunhild, a vampire integration supporter, earlier in fall when she had been running from vampire hunters. There had been no other way to save her. Still, I don't like turning humans if I can help it. I don't want to become the monster everyone says vampires are.

Wanda and Scott are running around the cave, throwing a small wooden ball to each other. It's good to see the other pups so relaxed. Lai knows, I don't think I'll ever get there.

I can't get there because Donna's body, a stone statue by the time I got back to our tent to salvage our fletching table, haunts me every night. A marble likeness, laying on its back, one hand outstretched with a silver and wooden arrow held in it. I had wanted to stand her upright, but there was no point. We had burned the camp behind us, leaving the dead to be at peace.

Sam taps my shoulder. "It's you and Wong's turn on the western face." He really means, 'It's your's and Wong's turn to stare in the direction of your dead family and your worst enemies for hours.' I hate night watch. The last light going down behind the cliffs makes it look as if the camp forest is burning again, and the edifice of Stark Castle stands tall against it. I stand with a sigh and follow Wong onto the balcony that looks toward the Stark Castle. Wong touches my arm at about twenty hours.

"Look in the direction of the old camp. Straight between us and the castle." I see what he means—a raiding party, probably hunters, leaving the castle and coming towards us. Wong already has gone back to warn the others, closing the hidden door behind him so that candlelight won't betray us. A minute later, Wong, Clint, and Bruce are standing with weapons at the ready. It was foolish of us to pick a spot so far down the cliff, I think. If they find the staircase, we're done for.

Then I see the moon. I reach out to touch Clint's arm nervously.

"Clint. The moon." He nods in understanding and jumps from the balcony, running in the direction of the hunters. The light of the full moon comes from behind a cloud and hits him. I watch him as he expands, bursting with fur and sprouting long claws. I hear him growl in pain and then howl loudly. The raiding party turns in his direction to watch him howl. They're close enough that I can count them—twelve men to one werewolf. Eleven move forward hesitantly and are quickly unhorsed and on the ground.

The smell of blood drifts our way and I gasp. Bruce does too, fighting the urge to go and feed on the soldiers. I snarl lowly, trying not to attract their attention. Bruce's claws dig into the wood railing as Wong stands impassive.

The twelfth horseman dismounts. A gleam of silver is in his hand. It is not Lord Stark, the Iron Man himself. It may be one of his second-in-commands. Clint snarls at him and lunges, but falls back with a whimper only seconds later. He lunges again, and again the silver slashes at him. They dance back and forth like this—slash, back, slash, back, slash, back, slash, back. Finally Clint raises his paws in surrender.

The blade slashes faster than before and Clint barely dodges this time. Clint turns and runs straight for a section of cliff about a league to the south. He runs nearly straight up the cliff, pausing at the top. The blade-man salutes with his blade and mounts his horse. The eleven others follow him back to the castle in a straggling line.