Married To The Mad Vampire Lord

"…You have grown so much, Theo…" she whispered. "The last time Mama saw you… you was so small and wanted to serve Aragonia in the military. You have become a soldier… tell me about it…"

Rohan told her a made-up story, and she listened with a sorrowful smile. When he was done telling her, he also asked, "What did you want to tell me that you asked for me to come?"

Her eyes looked at him, but it was as if it wasn't really him she was seeing, as she said, "I made a mistake a very long time ago, son… a big mistake that has caused you pain. I want to tell you I didn't mean to."

"What mistake did you make? Tell me." He coaxed, patient with the woman. He had never been patient with anyone who wasn't his wife or son, but he found himself being patient with her and not even using his powers to compel her, for he knew that might heighten her death faster.

She stared blankly before she finally looked at him. "I… I don't remember…"

"Was it about Isabelle?" Rohan put in, hoping to flash her memories, but she only frowned, gray brows drawing together and then falling apart.

"Who is that? I don't know who Isabelle is, Theo… don't remember." She muttered, her eyes closing slowly as though she was going to sleep, only to open again.

"Isabelle…" she mused faintly. "Who is she, son?" She turned to look at him.

Rohan tried to hint at her, hoping to spark some trace of recognition, but quickly realized it was useless. The woman only stared at him, her eyes vacant, as though she didn't understand a single word he was saying. His patience, already stretched thin, began to wane. He could feel the tight coil of frustration twisting in his chest, yet he forced himself to remain calm. He had wasted too much time trying to stir her memories instead of going straight to the point.

With controlled care, he removed his hand from the woman's trembling grasp and stood up from the chair at her bedside.

A few minutes later, Rohan had found a single coal in the hearth and a parchment. He drew his wife's picture and then held it to the elderly woman's curious eyes.

"Do you know her?"

At first, Mrs. Bigger stared at the picture blankly, and then slowly emotions began to draw on her face. She reached out and took the paper, running her trembling hand over the smiling face of Isabelle, a woman she had once served in her youth but could never have forgotten, if old age wasn't playing with her memories.

"Lady Isabelle…" her voice cracked. "I'm sorry… so sorry. But I can't forgive you… not for what you took from me too. You turned bitter… so cruel, so wicked. You wouldn't forgive me for a mistake I made when I was just a girl. No… you never forgave and took them from me. And I… I shall never forgive you either." Tears spilled down her wrinkled cheeks as her voice broke to a whisper. "But still… it was my fault… all my fault…"

"What did you do to her?" Rohan asked as he stood at the bedside, hands tucked in his pockets, fists clenched.

The woman no longer looked at him, as her eyes remained fixed on the image on the paper. "She trusted me, but I betrayed the trust and lied. It caused her life. But I only did it because he threatened to kill my ma and pa if I didn't do as he said. He threatened me."

"Who threatened you?" Rohan questioned, only for the woman's face to turn almost close to anger.

"Deven Marchant threatened me. He made me lie." She whispered.

Rohan's brow rose as he moved to sit back on the chair, finally confirming his suspicions about Deven. The bastard had indeed done something to earn Isabelle's hate.

Not wanting to get Mrs. Bigger out of this mood, where her voice was clearer and she was answering his questions, Rohan carefully asked, "Can you tell me what happened to Isabelle, and why he threatened you?"

---

Back in the palace ballroom, where couples had danced until nobody moved to the music again, Belle had not moved from her seat as her son had clung to her neck. At some point, she sensed his little body turn tense. She believed it must be because of the crowd and let him keep holding her, but she hadn't thought he would fall asleep.

She handed him to Rav when he came back to his seat with Evenly after their dance. It wasn't long before she was sent for, to meet the king. Her heart gave a thud, but she masked it with a polite smile at the palace maid who had been sent to get her.

The maid told her where to go and then blended back into the crowd, and Belle realized she must be one of the well-trained palace maids, with the smooth and skillful way she had delivered the message. She had managed to tell Belle that the king wanted to see her without making it seem unusual, as if it were nothing more than a relative wishing to see a niece who had been away for too long.

Belle gave Rav a nod of assurance when he looked worried before she walked away to go to the meeting place, with many eyes following her and people whispering among themselves. Belle walked out of the ballroom and down a quiet hall, the music muffled by distance as she entered the main palace.

No doubt her father and the officials were there, because they had gone missing from the hall. She fought her nerves and her racing heart by rehearsing the words her husband had given her in her mind, trying to gain confidence before she reached.

Though a part of her conscience nagged at her about what she was about to do, and about the many who might die because of it, she told herself it was for the sake of protecting her family and their future. She would free Rohan and herself from the clutches of both kings, and give her son a free life, one where he wouldn't grow up a prisoner or be forced to hide.

Aragonia was larger than all the other lands, even Nightbrook itself, and its army was a force to be reckoned with. That was why, among all the kingdoms, it was the only one bold enough to remain in odds with Nightbrook until the so called peace treaty. They had only failed in many of their wars because they lacked the proper weapon. If she gave them this weapon, they would finally have the power to face Nightbrook. But that didn't mean countless Aragonians, or even vampires wouldn't lose their lives in the fight.

Yet she reminded herself, she hadn't coaxed them into any war. It would be their decision, their calling, and their choice. If they fought and many were killed, it wouldn't be her doing. She was only a mother and a wife, desperately trying to protect her family and secure a normal, peaceful life away from endless chaos.

She was doing it for the future family she planned to build with Rohan, for freedom.

Her confidence steadied as her mind drifted back to the memories of their quiet life in the cottage. She longed for that life again. Yes… she could do this. She would—

"Ahh—!!" Belle's thought was cut off by a hand that pulled and dragged her into a room along the hall she was walking, before she arrived at where she was to meet the king. The door of the room slammed, and her scream was trapped back in her throat by the hand that clasped around her mouth, pinning her back to the door.

Belle didn't get to register the face of the person when she heard his voice through her panic-muddled head.

"Shh, relax, my lady. It's me, Jamie Marchant. I just want to talk to you," he whispered into her ear, and every muscle in Belle's body went stiff like a bucket of ice had been doused on her.

At first, she was stunned at his audacity before her eyes adjusted to the dim room enough to see his face close to hers. Then the never-ending anger consumed her, turning her body hot, like boiling water had been poured over her after the ice.

Anger. Pure, red rage consumed her, and along with it came flashes of memories that arrested her, memories she felt she hadn't lived, yet felt like hers.

They played in her head almost like she was living them again, as though his presence this close had opened them, and instead of fighting them, Belle welcomed them into her and let them play out.

It was everything that had happened to Isabelle.