Zi'da 29th, 707
Nightshade wandered down the quiet halls of the manor. She should have been safe and asleep in her room. Safe behind a door that wouldn't be opened without the discretion of her or her father. There were few things the Master respected when it came to Night and her father. The one thing he did respect was their personal space. Each one had their own room in a small corner of the manor. Those two rooms were connected to her father's study, a larger room complete with books and a desk for her father to work at as well a small corner for Night's own studies. That small area belonged to them and them alone, something that often made others who lived under the control of the Master envious. Just another reason for Night to get bullied. The reason she was out of that safety was simple, almost on the border of stupid to any other person. But it was important to Night. For her last birthday Night's father had given her his sword. Even though it displeased the Master she took it everywhere she went. The day prior she'd left it in the library while she was studying. It was still a strange weight that rested against her hip so she took it whenever she was idling about. The sword was important to her, but if the Master got the chance then he would take the sword away. She had to retrieve the blade as soon as possible.
She tried to move down the hallway as quickly and quietly as possible. The talons of her feet made a slight clicking noise against the wooden floor, but she had yet to attract any other attention. Besides the slight click the midnight colored girl moved like a shadow. Fear of being caught made her quiet. The circumstances of her raising had forced her to wander down these halls in the dark of night many a time. There had been nights when luck was not on her side and she was caught. Those usually led to painful results. She rubbed her shoulder were a purple bruise rested. It was uncertain if it was from the Master beating her or the other children, it didn't change the fact getting caught would be bad for her physical condition. But her sword held priority. No matter what happened she would endure. Her eyes were set stubbornly on the hallway in front of her. Her heart pounded in her chest reflecting the fear her face refused to show. She couldn't let the fear show.
A gentle sobbing reached her ears as she passed by the Young Master's room. Young Master Caligula was a man Night wanted to avoid at all costs. It was true Master Caligula wasn't the kindest man. He beat her viciously and had little regard for her health as long as she could do as she needed to in order to benefit him. She despised the man, but she couldn't find it in her heart to fear him. The beatings she feared, the scoldings she feared, the nights she starved and went without food for her disobedience she feared, the man behind these actions she did not. There was little apart from these things that the horrible monster of a man ever did to her. The Young Master was a different story entirely. He was a slimy little creature. He was ugly enough you'd think the ugly stick didn't just hit him, he hit every branch on the way down the ugly tree. His nose was far too large, his eyes small and beady, his voice was nasally and a pain to listen to. Yes, Ivan Caligula was disgusting but that wasn't enough to distrust the boy two years her senior out right. It was the stories that struck fear into every part of her body. Ever since the young master turned the same age as she was now she'd heard whispers among the maids. The prettiest ones being woken up and dragged into the night with little they could do against it. What could they do. For all his disgusting appearance Ivan was powerful. He was ugly, but he was a well built man with a barrel chest and arms like trees of steel. The stories Night heard about what he did to those maid caused her sickness.
The sobbing that caught her attention sounded like one of the maids, a favorite of Night to be specific. Grace was a beautiful woman, she worked as a maid only for the simple fact her father spent all of his time at sea. He owned a moderately wealthy shipping and trade business and had little time for Grace. So Grace decided to make something of herself and work instead of allowing herself to live off of her father. Grace was one of the few who showed Night any amount of kindness, in fact she was the most caring towards Night of all. The two had become friends in a short amount of time and the pair had quickly realized they were the only people in the world they could rely upon. Grace was a big part of why she could stand living in this hell hole of a manner. To hear Grace's fearful cries struck her deeply. Night moved to open the door of the Young Master's room. Ivan was standing next to his bed undressing where a shivering Grace lied, crying and begging for him to not do something. She just repeated don't and please over and over in a choked voice as she shivered.
"Shut up, bitch," Ivan growled moving towards her. His shirt was off and he glared down at the girl who wasn't even a woman. Grace was only a year older than Night. Night felt her breath catch in her throat. She had two choices, protect herself and abandon Grace, or put her neck on the line and possibly save Grace from the worst thing that would ever happen in her life. Fire lit up in her veins as she moved to a vase sitting on a pedestal in the hall. She took the vase into her hands. Even if it killed her, Night wasn't going to sit there and let someone commit such a vile act. As long as she drew breath she would protect any person that she could. The vase split into a million pieces as it crashed against the ground next to Ivan, the door flinging itself wide open. The vase barely missed Ivan as he gave a cry of alarm. Night was already dashing down the hallway her feet pounding the ground. Darkness protected Night, keeping Ivan from actually seeing her.
No noise of alarm or yells followed after her. After all, Ivan would have to explain to his father what he was doing with the maid so late at night. Assuming his father didn't know about Ivan's near nightly routine it could cause problems. Of course he would try and hunt the perpetrator himself. In the distance she could hear the horrible, heavy pounds of Ivan's feet. She threw herself into the library closing the door and locking it. With any luck Ivan would pass right on by. Though luck had always been fickle in regards to Nightshade. The horrible footsteps continued down the hall stopping right next to the door to the library. Her breath caught in her throat as Ivan's hand hovered against the doorknob. She could hear him grasping it as her breath stopped, each trill felt like a break as she tried to urge herself to draw a quiet enough breath. Her head was light and her entire body burned with fear and adrenaline. She swallowed hard and eventually she heard the retreating footsteps of her worst nightmare.
Breaks passed as she waited, and waited, and waited. Eventually she stood up. When did she sit down? She couldn't remember, but it wasn't hard to believe her legs had given out and forced her to the ground when Ivan finally passed. She grasped the sword with shaky hands as she put it against her hip. The weight had changed in a way she didn't expect it to. In the seasons after her birthday Red Brand had felt clunky and awkward against her body. But now the weight had become comfortable, the blade was a symbol of her father and safety. The blade could protect her while she was alone wandering the dark halls in whatever twisted quest she had to undertake for her own survival in the den of the beast. She unlocked the door and opened it with a hesitant creak. She took one step out, then another step out. For a moment she allowed herself to think she was safe and dropped her guard as she turned to go back the way she came. This only brought her face to face with her worst nightmare as a grip like steel found her left wrist. She cried out in pain as Ivan almost lifted her off the ground by her one arm alone.
"Well, well, well. Little Nightshade out on a nighttime exploit. You know that can be dangerous. You never know what dangerous little secret you might stumble across," he mused his grip becoming tighter. Night sucked in a sharp breath to keep herself from screaming. If she cried out now she'd have no proof of what she saw and it could only become more dangerous for her. He knew, he knew that she was the one who saw. "Of course, that just means something needs to be done in order to keep you quiet. You're very pretty, did you know that?" Ivan said placing his other hand against her waist. That hand slowly started to wander lower and lower. Night felt sick to her stomach as fear mixed with anger and disgust. That was a dangerous mix, not for her but for Ivan. The beautiful mix of emotion kicked her sense of self preservation into gear and she lashed out, the talons of her free hand raked across Ivan's chest pulling at whatever flesh they could. The cuts weren't deep, nowhere near the size of the gashes she wished she could leave. But it was enough for Ivan to drop her and cry out in pain.
Night ran with all of her might. It would be no underestimation to say she pushed past Ivan and flew down the hallways. Night had never been good on her feet, but fear was a great motivator and she bolted like she was running from the devil. As far as she cared, she was. The monster behind her was a horrible beast. She noticed when she ran past Ivan's room that Grace was long gone. She breathed a sigh of relief and finally found herself back in front of the door to her own room. She darted inside moving as quietly as she could in the study as not to wake her father. Finally safe inside her own room did she allow herself a moment to calm. She was tired, she flopped down on her bed and allowed herself a moment of rest and sleep.
