The Bloody Anne Saga

“A memory gilded in red and gold, a beauty guarded and never sold.”
“Spanish Doll”
-Poe

Torn


He walked down the street of the town, glancing briefly at some of the shops as he passed. He enjoyed feeling the sun on his face and the fresh air more than anything. Passing a group of people, he noticed a small group of women eyeing him appreciatively as he walked by. Smirking slightly, he continued on his way. As much as it amused him when the women in this country watched him pass, he didn’t have time for it now. He had an appointment. Glancing up at the clock on one of the storefronts, he quickened his pace. Besides, he already belonged to someone; he didn’t need the petty games that came with relationships. His was perfectly fine as he was.
Turning the corner, he stopped at a small shop, something catching his eye. Stepping into the store, he pointed out what he wanted and moments later; he left the store now carrying a small parcel. He knew the person he’d bought it for would like it.
Things were much calmer now. He remembered the last few days they’d spent in London. After…him. He had been in the room for the last confrontation, and he still remembered how she looked afterwards.

He had come out from behind the chair, his heart pounding. She stood in the middle of the room, perfectly still, looking down at the floor. He rushed over to her, relieved that she was alive. As he approached, she gave a loud wail and collapsed to the floor, sobbing. He froze, terrified that she had been hurt.
”Mistress!” He cried out, rushing to her side touching her shoulder hesitantly, to make sure she was unharmed. She only sat there, her head in her hands, sobbing hysterically. He frowned, confused.
“Are you hurt? Should I find someone?”
She only sat there, sobbing. He sat beside her, unsure what to do. Finally, his gaze slid from her to the still body lying on the floor. Realization dawned on him. Memories surfaced in his mind. His mistress…in the company of two young men, a red haired one and a black haired one. One she had murdered a long time ago and the other was lying on the floor across from them.

The Golden Trio.

No more.

He turned back to her, his gray eyes wide.
”My Lady.” He whispered.
“All gone.” She whimpered. He touched her arm, pushing himself against her. Letting out another sob, she threw her arms around him, holding him closely, crying on his shoulder. Hesitantly, he slid his arms around her, holding her while she cried, His gaze going back to the figure, fearfully.
Finally she stopped crying, just sitting still in his arms. Pulling away from her carefully, he crawled a bit to the couch and pulled a throw from the back of it. Standing up, he approached the body, and covered it with the throw. Walking back over to her still sitting figure, he looked down. Not since he could remember had he ever stood above her. And if he did before, he was sure he didn’t like it now. There was something not right about her being like this.
Dropping to his knees, he touched her shoulders again.
“Mistress,” he whispered urgently. “You must rise. You will need to call her.”
She looked up at him, her eyes red rimmed and puffy.
“What?”
He handed her the phone. “Mistress. Call Lady Fiona.”
She sniffed, taking the phone from his hands and thumbing the switch. He kept a hold of her shoulder. A moment later, Fiona’s voice came over the other end.
“My Lady?”
“Fiona? Bring two men with you to my study.”
Silence filed the air, then Fiona’s voice again, sounding a little hesitant.
“It’s over?”
“Yes Fiona. Please hurry.”
“We’ll be there as quick as we can.”
He helped her up and moved her towards her desk, making sure his body was blocking her view from the covered figure. Taking a cloth from her desk, he gently wiped her face, trying to erase the proof of weakness from her face.
A knock on the study door came as promise and she stiffened. He turned to see the door open and Fiona walk in followed by two men. All three stopped suddenly, looking at the covered figure, as if nervous to approach it.
Fiona was the first to speak.
“My Lady, what do you wish us to do?”
He felt her grab his hand, and turned back to her startled. She stood there, her back still to the door, fresh tears coursing down her face.
“Take him and give him a proper burial. Not in the ground. A proper hero’s burial. He came here freely and acted every bit the honorable hero he always was. I shall not accept anything less for him. And do it quietly. I do not want fanfare for his death. It is nothing to be celebrated.
Fiona nodded, her own eyes beginning to water. “It will be done as you said, Lady Anne.”
He turned to watch the two men, both with red eyes, cross the room and gently pick up the body, and then the three leave quietly. As the door closed again, Anne sagged against the desk, all strength leaving her body. He grabbed her before she fell.
“You should be in your room.” He told her. She shook her head.
“There isn’t any place in this fortress that is safe for me now.” She said softly, wiping the tears from her face. “This is now my prison.”
His eyes narrowed. “Then leave. Take a holiday.”
She looked over at him, and smiled. “Only you could think of taking a holiday at this time.” She reached up, touching his face. “I’ll…think about it, my pet.”

In the end he convinced her to leave London and take a holiday in Paris. She handed the reins of power over to Fiona and took him and left less than a week after that day.
Once in Paris, he turned into something other than simply her pet. He became her companion, her confidante, and her protector. All of these titles he wore with pride and worked to live up to.

Hearing the clock bells chime in the distance, he quickened his steps to the place he was to mher,her, getting there before the last chime stopped. Idly scratching his wrist where the band identifying him as her’s lie, he heard the car she’d hired approach. The white vehicle stopped at the corner, and the back door opened. Grinning, he slid into the back seat, waiting for the door to close before facing her.
“You look proud of yourself, my pet.” She said, once the car began to move. “Whatever have you been doing?”
“I brought you something.” He said, extending the package. A slender hand reached out of the cloak and took it. The other hand slid the hood of the cloak off. Lady Anne looked up at her pet, her brown eyes pleased. Pulling open the wrapping, she gasped in pleasure.
“Oh Draco. It’s beautiful!”
He grinned again as she pulled the ornate quill and journal out of the remainder of the wrappings.
“I saw it and knew you had to have it.”
Placing it on the other side of her, she patted the seat beside her and he climbed over to sit next to her, laying his head on her lap.
”I’m glad you like it.” He said. “I was worried you wouldn’t.”
She said nothing, merely sat back in the seat, her hand running through his hair.
He lay there, relishing the feel of her hand running through his hair. Out of all the titles bestowed on him over the past few months, he liked this one the best. The title neither of them mentioned. Until she returned to her former strength and power and could return to London to rule properly, he would be there to make sure she healed.