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Escher spurred the horse beneath him, for all the good his delicate court shoes managed against its thick flanks. Bucephalus liked him well enough, he was sure, but only marginally better than his ‘ever charming’ sister-wives and not near enough as yet to give their mistress up for good. The fiery steed continuously tried to turn back rather than just listen to him and encourage their string of weak people on ahead into the heart of the night. He cursed the cold wind biting against the glorified skeletons shambling before him. Cursed the slow, weak, people who stumbled along as best as they could away from the horror that was their lives in Ravenloft. Cursed the woman who ought to be roasting before the onslaught of the Asran fools about now. She whom he once loved; whom he still loved no matter how hard she’d starved the cold heart within his breast which she, herself, had stilled for all time..
With a sigh, and one more foul word spit between his icy lips, Escher pulled the reins harshly to the side, yanking the fiery horse’s head around and kicking his heaving flanks once more. Needing no other permissions, his mount reared, loosing a piercing scream, then lunged forward. Steel shod hooves pounded against the frozen ground, pulling them along with a power enviable to a freight train back the way they’d come. The vampire allowed the foolish beast to run–really run–as he so wanted for a time, careful to hold on and steer the horse only enough to ensure they didn’t collide with a tree or break a leg to an ill placed hole in the path until the great brute showed signs of tiring. Only then did Escher begin to pull back on the reins, murmuring low words of caution until they slowed from the mad dash to a rolling canter back to the doom that was Ravenloft.
Although the beast’s chest heaved from the effort, he held his head high and champed the bubbling white foam from the bit, eager to run again at the slightest shift in Escher’s seat. The vampire tossed his blond locks back from his face and prayed he could trust the flick of Bucephalus’ ears back toward him as a signal his mount recognised that they were partners this night. For another mile or so, they maintained this peace; the horse only bucking and refusing when the vampire dared ask they turn around.
Just when Escher began to question how he’d convince his partner to loop back to the string of survivors, he heard something. Nothing much at first, more of a suggestion, but, of his own accord, Bucephalus slowed to a trot and ventured from the path into the bare trees. They dropped to a wide-strided walk not long before the whimpers and moans of a child reached out to tug on his petrified heart strings. Something in those desolate tones compelled as the victims of Strahdanya had not. He wanted to run with wild abandon to the babe as Bucephalus had, yet locked down the impulse lest he break his own fool neck on some measly root. Oh how his mistress would laugh at that, if they both made it out alive–before she tortured him to death, of course. He could feel his connection to her flickering, fading more almost to the step of his steed.
Escher, aware of how most horses would betray their trepidation when encountering potentially dangerous creatures (who often started at objects they’d seen every day of their lives, no less, as if there was a game in jumping and running and snorting and farting) subtly relaxed his posture and lengthened the rein as much as he dared so his mount could bend or twist or shake his head as he liked. He divided his attention between the sounds of sobbing and watching the horse for any inkling of fear until they strode into a little clearing.
Sniffling in the center, outspread wings comically large for her miniscule body, rested a tiny bat. She reeked of sadness, terror, and blood. Strahdanya’s blood. Strahdanya’s make. Escher could feel a connection to the young vampire, faint and settling, still, even as he sensed only a void where the tether which connected him to his mistress’ other brides once held fast. His line to the vampire queen dwindled even as he pondered it, yet he couldn’t focus on the implications of that just now. Couldn’t risk her drawing power from his own essence in a bid to save herself.
The child was so new and upset she didn’t hear the thud of the horse’s hooves nor the bellows of his breath as it cleared its nose. Escher swung his legs over the side of the saddle and braced himself before sliding to the ground. Closing his teeth over another curse, he wound the horse’s reins around a sturdy branch knowing he could never hold the animal if it really wanted to leave them, then approached the girl.
Humming a calming line or two he eased himself closer to her position, though it wasn’t until he scuffed his shoes through the dirt, praying the damage would polish away later, that her little nose whipped around, ears waiving wildly as she looked up to him. To her credit, the way she puffed her chest out and spread her weight over both outstretched wings would intimidate an especially large mosquito. He schooled his features into a pleasant smile rather than blubber over her adorable hiss as he was initially inclined to do. To preserve himself, he’d learned early on that his image ought not falter.
“My, my, aren’t you an especially fierce little kitten.” He couldn’t refrain from chuckling softly at her sputtering squeak of outrage. “Oh? Not a cat? I was just about to name you the most beautiful winged feline I ever did lay my eyes on, but I suppose I’m allowed to be wrong once a decade.” The little vampire pouted up at him, angry tears sliding into the velvet of her cheeks now and then, though she’d stopped whimpering. He stared into her beautiful little eyes and shared a little of his calm with her. Not a true charm–he was careful to avoid that without knowing how perceptive she might be to magic– but enough that he had her copying each deep, measured, breath he pulled into his chest. He hadn’t needed to breathe for nearly a century, but a new-made babe like her would remember what it was to depend on oxygen.
“There now, little miss. Why don’t you change back? If anything happens, I know you are strong enough to morph again and fly fast away. Huh? Let me know the source of your sorrow before my own soul cracks.” He sank down onto one knee with several feet between them, soiling his trouser leg irreparably, no doubt, yet counted it a success as she nodded slightly and used a little of her magic to change form. Black ringlets framed her pale face and accentuated those doe-wide eyes. Her bottom lip quivered and he locked his legs rather than scare her by wrapping her into his arms to stave off another whimper.
“Just so, dearest. Bravo. Now, another deep breath,” he paused to pull a lungful with her, “and tell Escher what’s wrong. Maybe start with your name, darling.” He placed a hand to the corner of his mouth and leaned in to whisper to her. “That’s me, little bat. I’m Escher.”
“Mama,” she sniffed and started again. “Mama named me Ravenovia. She said I didn’t have to use my old name.”
“Ravenovia is a lovely name.You’ll strengthen it, no doubt. Did mama send you away?” He paused as the girl nodded, tears welling in her eyes once again as her bottom lip popped out. “Well, I’m sure it was for the best.”
“Sh-she was going to have them kill meee.” The babe sobbed again. Unable to hold himself back any longer, Escher shuffled forward on his knees–clothes be damned, He paused just shy of Ravenovia, however, holding his arms open to invite her into his embrace. She paused for breath and watched him warily, wiping the moisture from her cheeks with the backs of her knuckles and the heels of her little hands. After a moment she cautiously folded herself against his chest and hiccuped another little wave of sorrow.
“Who, child? Who would ever kill a being so perfect as you?” He murmured as he stroked her hair, knowing full well his bride-sisters would waste not a moment to rip her apart.
“Ma-ma-mamma told Clayton to kill me. I was so hungry, and she said they were my supper. That they weren’t my friends; they didn’t love me like they loved Tommy or that other girl. I nearly walked up to them but the Professor said something that made me stop. I’m sure Kana would have let me feed or maybe Shepherd, but he was so angry. He said bad words and threatened mama. So I asked the dragon, I asked Sarnax if I could just have a little. Everyone got real quiet. Mama promised to send them home if they killed me, but Mr.Clayton was as mad as Mr. Shepherd and mama was mad at them all too. I was so scared.” As her little shoulders shook, he stroked her soft hair following her representation of events as near as he was able. He nearly prayed for the strength to overcome the bitch until he recalled that no god would stick their neck out for the likes of him. But no god would save this child from the fires of damnation, either. She hadn’t begged Strahdanya for immortality, hadn’t laughed while the mistress’ fangs sank into her throat believing the vampiress had promised eternal happiness alongside an elongated life. She was just another game piece in this bloody hellscape. The best thing they could hope for was that they were just strong enough to help each other.
“I was so confused. Mama said she loved me. That she’d take care of me and be my real mother, but she was telling my friends to kill me. She almost hit me with her sword and she shoved me real hard.” More tears spilled over Ravenovia’s round little cheeks and she sniffed. “She said I was a bad girl for not finishing my supper. That I was not a princess and Ravenloft was not my castle. But I am a princess and Ravenloft was meant to be my castle. We have the same name! She told me that she didn’t love me, and that I had to leave even though she promised we’d be together always! She lied to me. And now she’s gone! I don’t know what to doooo.”
“Here, princess, just you let all those tears out.” He patted her back and stroked her hair some more before continuing in a murmur. “She promised me that too, you know; that she’d never leave me. She smiled kindly and complimented me. I was a treasure, the center of her universe–for a time. But she didn’t love me, really. Not the way I loved her.” Ravenovia’s whimpers slowed and she pulled back to look at him.
“Why do you think Clayton and Shepherd were angry? Do you really think they aren’t your friends?”
“Mama said–”
“Hush, little bat. Forget what mama said. What do you feel?” He fished a handkerchief out of the ether with a flourish, pausing to admire the square of yellow silk which matched the shade of his hair as a small smile revealed the girl’s perfect little fangs. Minuscule red and black embroidered bats danced around the edge of the fabric and prompted a wry smile from his own lips as he’d never thought to add such a detail before. He carefully wiped dirt and the flaking blood of her last meal from her face, handing off the incongruously cheerful square to allow her to blow her nose. She giggled when Beucephalus snorted in solidarity, the clasps of his tack clicking as he moved.
“I think mama Strahdanya is mean...” Fear choked her for a moment and she surveyed the woods warily, then returned her focus to him. He hummed in agreement.
“I think Tommy is right and that Mr. Clayton and Miss. Victoria and Miss Kana and Mr. Shepherd are my friends.” She leaned in closer to his ear. “And Sarnax is really a dragon, but don’t tell Tommy 'cause I disagreed with that at first. Actually, don’t tell Tommy I said he’s right at all. He gets really bossy and calls me a brat.” Delicate black brows pulled down to an angry point in the middle of her eyes and her mouth set, stern and stiff, lower still.
“Well, we can’t have that; and I don’t know about a dragon, but I think Clayton and the rest are my friends too. He owes me a castle you know!”
“A whole castle?”
“Yes! What would I do with half a castle? Silly idea, that.”
“No! You will have a great big castle all to yourself?”
“Yes. All to myself.” One side of his lip twitched as her bottom lip quivered, her eyes flicking up to meet his once as she fiddled with the handkerchief..
“You won’t get lonely?”
“Oh, I’m sure I will, but then I’ll just commission another portrait of myself. My beautiful smile will chase away any loneliness.”
“I get lonely when I’m all by myself.”
“Do you?”
“Yes of course. Don’t you?”
“Well I suppose so, sometimes. But I’ve managed for a long while solo. I’m quite good company, you understand.” He eyed her with his periphery and watched her little eyes dart around as she collected her thoughts. “I do plan on commissioning a large castle though. Without servants to maintain everything it will be a chore to maintain the facade. One can’t really bond with the help, however, they come and go so fast. I could find a few orphans to pad the place. A little boy who thinks himself a fierce monster hunter to threaten my very existence after a few years…Or perhaps a little girl who thinks herself a princess.” He stretched his neck and adopted a bored tone. “Well, I have so much time to locate the perfect child, centuries laid out before me for contemplation. All alone. In my castle.”
“Wait!” Ravenovia jerked in his grasp to wrap her fingers around his collar an pull his eyes to her own. “Will you promise to be my daddy and then I can be a princess in our castle? And we can have tea parties and a hundreds of dollies and go for rides on the pony every day?”
“Well, every castle does need a princess,” he schooled his face as her eyes widened in anticipation,” but I do have a really big secret to keep.”
“I can keep a secret!”
“It’s your secret too, you know, Ravenovia.”
“My secret too!?” Her eyebrows arched up on her forehead as her chin whipped up, raven black ringlets of hair bouncing every which way with the action.
“Yes. Can you think of what it is, smart as you are?” He waited patiently as she thought. Far more so than the horse pawing deep into the ground behind them, its ears divided between their conversation and some point through the forest to his right. She gave up not long after, chin tucked to her chest in shame, nearly driven to tears again.
“Hush, hush. It’s fine, little bat. You’ve had quite the day.”
“Yeah, I have had a, like, really long day. I cried a lot and I was scared and Strahdanya was mean to me. And I’m still really hungry.”
“Unfortunately the hunger never really goes away. You see, the secret is that we are vampires, princess.”
“Well, yeah, we’re vampires. We are strong and beautiful and will live for years and years before our souls are recycled. Why should that be a secret?”
“When people think of vampires outside Barovia they know hints and whispers of our awesome beauty and terrible power; know that we feed from their lifeblood. We are terrifying, yes, out there, but especially here. All our fellow Barovians can envision when someone whispers vampire is Strahdanya.” He nodded as she grasped her lip between her teeth pensively. “They fear her and for good reason. When people are afraid, they lash out. They aim to kill that which instills fear in their very bones.” He let her process that for just a moment. “My dear, you can only tell someone of our true nature whom you truly trust. Even then, I will teach you to always be prepared for them to try to sink a stake into your heart.”
“I will be strong. I won’t let you down, daddy. No one will ever stake me because I am so fast. And they would have to fight through you and you are so, so, so, strong!”
“You could never let me down, my little bat.” He gathered her little form up into his arms and returned to Bucephalus. The girl shrank from the horse’s fiery mane, but calmed as he hugged her close and murmured a reassurance in her ear. When he patted the beast’s neck, her little hand followed after his and the horse’s ears twitched back to accept her thanks. After untying the beast, he placed her just in front of the saddle and leapt up after her. With a murmured prayer to the animal to keep its head with their precious cargo, Escher ushered him on.
Unprompted, Bucephalus walked further into the wood. Escher pursed his lips, but hoped the fact that they weren’t heading directly toward Ravenloft was a sort of concession from the great black brute. He kicked lightly at the horse’s sides and smiled as Ravenovia giggled as they shifted into a smooth trot. After a mile or so of twisting through the trees, Bucephalus pulled them back up onto the road where a figure limped along, not unlike the other poor souls Escher had freed from Strahdanya’s dungeons. This straggler was dressed far better than any of them, however. The child in his arms gasped as she recognised the man too.
“It’s uncle Sergei.”
“So it seems, princess. Let’s go and see if he’ll accept a lift.” Escher pinned a mocking smile on his features as they drew up to the mistress’ ‘dear’ brother. Sergei appeared utterly exhausted, blood crusting nearly every inch of his once white attire. The fragrance of his pain, his suffering, intermingled with Strahdanya’s to flavor the air, though Escher swallowed down his urge to sample a precious measure of the fluid from the child of light. Saliva pooled in between his teeth all the same, however, and he carefully held onto the fledgeling in his arms lest the same urge overpower her weaker, impulsive, nature.
“Well met indeed, sweet Sergei. You’re too late to empty the dungeons as I accomplished that, but luckily we happened upon you too. Just call me your knight in shining armor.” The elder vampire winked where the paladin merely grunted, both eyeing Bucephalus as he scented the paladin’s shoulder carefully.
“And I’m the princess, so daddy’s really saving you cause I said so.”
“Yes, quite right. Ravenovia and this vexing steed. How fare our friends? If you managed to leave that blasted place, I must assume they continue on.” Escher glared at the man, knowing he saw the child for what she was with his sun touched eyes. Sergei looked upon the vampires arm curled protectively around Ravenovia and merely nodded once, appearing too tired for shock.
“They do continue, as far as I know. My sister is laid to rest.” His head bowed down as the child whimpered at that news. “Peace, girl. She is at peace now. She lived many lifetimes spreading vile misery, yet chose to forsake her dark power to preserve our friends. To save me. In the end she died Strahdanya, my sister and not the countess. She did not die as the dreaded vampire queen.”
“For all that I loved her terrible power–her tender devotion–I only hope that she is at peace as you say and not suffering more for the mistakes of her youth. I must have some hope for my own end some day after all. Eh, oh disciple of the Morning Lord?” He reached down to the paladin, crooking his fingers to encourage the man to accept his help up onto the horse before it could prance forward without him.
“There is no hope for you, Escher.” Sergei grimly accepted his assistance, boosting himself into place, weak as a newborn foal. “But, with any luck, Sarnax will be correct in his insistence that all souls may be granted redemption. May the Morning Lord or some other god have mercy on your soul.”
“You always know just what to say, sweet Sergei. Do be careful where you place your hands as you hold on. I believe you are betrothed and we have children present on this ride.” Escher flashed a fang over his shoulder at their companion as he kicked Bucephalus into a gallop, relishing both his little bat’s elated giggle and the strong arm of Sergei clutching around his middle.
Part of his heart would miss Strahdanya, he knew. Yet, unbeknownst to her, she’d gifted him the best part of herself in the giggling little vampire he held in his arms. Although she likely turned Ravenovia to benefit her own stance against Clayton and the rest, Escher doubted such initial ambitions had prompted his mistress to send the babe out into the night. If the Countess wanted the child dead, she would have killed her. He remembered the lust that once inhabited his ex-lover’s eyes. The warmth. The fear. The regret. He’d seen past her monstrous deeds to the bound woman deep underneath. She’d rebelled in so many ways before, one little deed such as sending an innocent away from what she knew might end in her demise seemed a small act in comparison. Anything to keep more ammunition away from the Blood Queen.
Perhaps the fires of Garyx really would burn that despicable force. The lizardfolk certainly had a hard-on at that very thought. What then, however? The vampire’s mind turned again to the puzzle of his own demise.
While Sarnax had surprised him with the acts he’d carried out through the powers of his faith, Escher still couldn’t quite believe any god would find a reason to redeem his soul. He rejected the thought that the child would suffer such a fate, however. He swore to himself that Ravenovia would want for nothing. That he would guide her to the best of his ability and keep those beautiful eyes open to every possibility. He would even pray to whomever might listen beyond the veil of this plane that his princess would choose happiness over selfish desire as he had. That she would walk a path seeking peace within her soul rather than the bloody trail of power that initially tempted his own footsteps.
For the benefit of his little bat, he would turn toward a brighter future.