Hello, it's me. It's been awhile. But I've been working on this chapter for a bit, debating if it was too dark/weird/sexual but this whole musical is all of those things so I said "screw it" and here it is. Sorry about the hiatus, but life is crazy and school is hard. I will make it up to you with a sex scene. And if that's not your style, there's lots of angst as well.

Much love!


On days passed and things remained erroneously peculiar in the castle on the hill.

New powers and abilities arose in Sarah every day and Emilian would show her how to use them and on their time would pass. When it was time to rest, they'd share her bed or his coffin but never did he touch her. Never did he kiss her or make any sign he desired her at all. Maybe he did not. Maybe that night had been a fluke and those kisses had just been to trick her into staying. But it hadn't felt a trick. And she did so love her castle. She adored her new life. If only he weren't so…

Everyone else was fine. There were others in the castle, Sarah knew there must be, and she came to make their acquaintance. Others too, who did not live with them, would come to the castle to discuss business matters but Sarah never got to see these meetings. Yet afterward there would be a dinner (it was the only word Sarah could think to describe it) where they sat around a table and drank blood from goblets while their visitors would chat about the wonderful places they had traveled and Sarah would die in envy of it. She so wanted to travel the world. Very often she'd say so but Emilian never said anything about it. He was odd and aloof as usual.

Yet she always sat by his side, as one's wife would sit by their side, and that always made her feel a bit brighter. The son would be at these dinners and often Alfred as well, though Alfred's infatuation with her seemed to have faded. Or perhaps he did not wish to show it anymore. Oddly enough, the lack of attention put a hole in Sarah's chest though she was not sure why. Alfred seemed hardly joyful about anything anymore.

When these dinners were over, the guests would kiss Sarah's cheeks and tell her she was beautiful or something of the like and then go. The Count would take her to bed or his coffin and they'd lie by one another but there was never anything more. Why was there never anything more? Had she upset him? Sarah could not think of what she'd done to deserve such a punishment. He brushed her skin or place his face in her hair but never tried to kiss her. Never tried to slake any desires upon her or even speak to her. She was like a toy, like a doll, that one leaned into for comfort but would eventually discard.

In the mornings, things were usual. She'd set about her day. Sarah liked to walk the grounds. She liked to read in the library. She liked to take baths.

It was a fully melancholy existence.


"Are you going to go to Constanta for the winter?" Herbert was lying back on the chaise, tossing some old paper weight he must've found somewhere. "It's been ages since we've gone there."

"We would not go anywhere if I do go." Emilian Von Krolock dipped his pen into the ink and continued the letter he was writing. "You would need to stay behind. Attend to business."

His son scoffed, "Business is boring." There was something in his voice though to lead Emilian to think his son was not so bored by the prospect. Herbert always enjoyed power, always insisting his father did not trust him with enough of it. And Herbert would be perfectly fine to attend to the castle for the winter months. Business was always slower then and there shouldn't be a problem. Though the villagers had been growing uneasy. That would be easily healed.

Should he take Sarah away as he planned to take Sarah away, he had no doubt all of this unrest would simply fade away. He'd not much considered the consequences of taking her. So caught in lust and longing, he'd not considered the effects of her absence upon the village. She was not just some traveler or some vagabond no one would miss. She was the daughter of the innkeeper. The daughter of an innkeeper who now too lived under his roof. He needed to sort this.

Herbert tossed the weight, "Will you take the pet with you?"

His son had taken to the habit of referring to Sarah as such whenever he spoke of her. Herbert did not approve, though he had no grounds of which to be showing disapproval. Herbert would sight Sarah's age and inexperience, as though those were not things that plagued Krolock at every moment.

If he took her to the shore, everything would be better. Sarah was not happy here, that he now understood. Sarah was not happy in his home nor would she be. She feigned a contentment, but it was just an illusion. She was frightened and lonely and sad, all because he'd been greedy and cursed her. He needed to make amends and he certainly could not just set her free. No, that would be detrimental to all those who came across her. Not to mention it would be detrimental for him. It was selfish and evil, but he did not want her to go.

"Sarah likes the shore," he said. He finished the letter he was writing and set it aside to dry. "It would be good for her to go away."

"Are you going with her? Or are you sending her away?"

"I'm not sending her away."

Herbert raised a brow, "It might be wiser if you did."

"I'll hear no more on this," Krolock fanned at his letter. He folded it and sealed it with wax.

His son continued, "Do you two even speak to each other?"

His father did not answer.

"She's been here nearly two months and you two still behave around each other as though you are complete strangers."


He sat up, "It just seemed peculiar-that's all." Setting down the weight, he stood and outstretched his arms. "Alfred and I are going to go out for food. We'll be going a long ways. Don't expect us back soon."

Krolock said nothing as his son left the room, shutting the door behind him. As much as he disliked his son's flippant advice, he was keen in his observation. Krolock and Sarah never spoke. They hardly spoke anything to one another. For so many years, so many years, she'd just been something he observed. Something one observed and loved like a painting or a bird. How was one meant to speak to a painting or a bird? How was one to admire it when he'd been instructed for so many years not to touch the thing at all?

Now, every morning she lay next him and he'd fall asleep mad with lust. It did not go away, his wanting of her, and yet he felt disgusting and terrible any time he thought of lying with her again. She'd been so frightened of him. She'd been so traumatized. He would not hurt her again. He'd made a career in hurting others but he could not hurt her again. Krolock was not an innocent man, but he did not hold with rape. And certainly what he'd done had been akin to it and he would never do it again. He'd laid with her and she'd run away. She had been frightened. He should not have done it.

He'd gone to Elisabeth. It felt like a betrayal, but it felt far better than hurting Sarah. Elisabeth had not questioned it, though he knew there were questions in her mind. She dared not ask. She knew better than to ask.

But he could not do that anymore. He wanted Sarah, not Elisabeth. He did not want any woman but Sarah, but she was so unhappy. If he took her to Constanta, perhaps she could be happy again. Sarah could be happy and they'd make love and she'd not be so melancholy all the time. It was a selfish dream, but a dream all the same.

He knew not what to say to Sarah. He knew not how to fix this. He knew though that the sun would rise soon and he wanted to lie next to Sarah. He knew too that his lust was growing in his mind with all the thoughts of her.

Regretting himself, Krolock set to Elisabeth's room again. She let him in without question.


To care for someone was not to set about with other women, of that Sarah was certain.

She'd known men to do it. Her father had done it. Every other husband in the tavern had done it, but she'd not expected it of him. Not of her angel. Though he was not an angel and he was certainly not her husband, Sarah regretted it regardless. It had hurt like daggers to see him stalk away from that woman's bedroom. It had hurt like fire and ice all mixed in one.

Why had she even gone out from her room? It would've been better if she had not even known. Well, it would have been better if he'd not done it at all but… Sarah felt tears sting her face but she did not want them to fall. Damn him. Damn him straight to hell. Even if this was hell already, damn him even further than that.

So that was why he did not want Sarah. He'd had Sarah once, thought her bad at it, and went back to a woman who obviously knew how to do such things. Not that Sarah was an idiot about such matters, but it was not one she'd ever done before. He did not care to teach her. He did not care to make love to her. He wanted Elisabeth. Elisabeth who was trained in how to please and how to be sensual and how to be a woman. Not how to be a child. All Sarah was was a child. It was clear now that was all he thought of her.

The door to her bedroom opened, and he had the audacity to think she wanted his presence. How dare he? Not that he knew, she supposed. He knew she sometimes took walks at night, but he knew not she'd spotted him in his sin. Was it sin? Sarah didn't even know anymore, but she knew it hurt. She knew it was terrible.

"You're crying," he noted before he even reached her bed.

She didn't answer. He came closer.

"I know you've had a difficult time adjusting to life here," he spoke warmly and softly, the way he only did when they were alone. She hated him. Sarah felt the bed shift as he sat upon it. "So I thought you and I could go away for a while. To the shore. To Constanta."

Sarah blinked, not believing his words. He goes to the bedroom of another woman and now he wants to take Sarah to the shore? He was insane as well as cruel.

"I thought you might like that," he said to her calmly. He placed his hand on her hip and she could not stand him anymore. She could not stand any of this anymore. Any of this charade any of this madness. Sarah sat up like a bolt, pushing his hand away ferociously. His eyes stared at her, utterly perplexed, and she hated him.

"I saw you leaving Elisabeth's bedroom." The look in his eye changed to one of shock then guilt and Sarah liked it. She wanted him to feel terrible. Damn him for making her feel terrible. She continued, "You went to bed with her, didn't you?"

He said nothing and Sarah had her answer. He had. Of course he had. He was a man, wasn't he, and it had been two months since he'd been with Sarah. Why would he not lie with this other woman? A woman certainly far more sensual and knowing than she. A woman who didn't behave as much like a child. A woman who didn't run off crying and back to her mama.


She hissed, "I am not a child."

Her once angel just looked at her, confused by the outburst. She was confused as well. Yet that look of guilt and sadness grew again in his gaze. Damn him for doing it. Damn him for going to her. Elisabeth. Beautiful Elisabeth. Sensual and sexual Elisabeth who no doubt did not cry like Sarah and was not wild like Sarah and was not as perplexing as Sarah. Elisabeth was simple to handle. Elisabeth was not and ill-tempered little girl.

She began, "What am I to you?" He looked at her, not understanding her words. The blood seemed to be rushing to her ears though she knew not if her blood could rush anymore. "Why do you go to her bed? Do you not want me?"

Silence still.

"If you..." Her voice was breaking, damn her voice. "If you don't, please tell me. Tell me and stop driving me mad." The words blubbered at her lips and she clutched the fine sheets. "You're driving me mad."

I want you to love me, she wanted to bellow but knew such a thing would only make her feel more a child. She felt him staring at her, not saying a word, and she felt insane. Those voices were building up in her head but Sarah had gotten good at ignoring them. None of them made much sense anyways.

He reached out and stroked her arm.

"My dear pet..." he began and Sarah jerked away.

"Pet, then," she muttered lowly. She wished she wore something more sensual and not this stupid nightdress that made her look like a baby. She felt like a baby. Or a pet. A pet meant to be admired and then locked away until it was wanted once again. Sarah did not want that fate. She despised that fate.


"Ack!" She hissed, tossing away the blankets.

"What do you want to be then, Sarah?" He responded with surprising roughness. "I know you anticipated some fanciful life but you must adapt to the fact that it is not." She looked at him, her insides feeling colder. "This is your existence now."

She squinted, "My existence where you ignore me and then go to the bed of other women?"


"If I was wrong, tell me!" She exclaimed fervently. "If I am wrong and I have been and you think me a daughter or some pet, tell me!"

He told her nothing.

"What am I to you?" Sarah questioned once again with a new fire raging in her. "You make love to me one time and then never again! Did I do something wrong? Do you not want me anymore? I want you so badly, Emilian! And you come lie here with my every night and you do not touch me! Why don't you touch me?"

He was not sure what he'd anticipated, but it was not that. The wild creature of a girl sat in front of him, her fingers clutching the sheets so tightly he thought she may rip them. Sarah's eyes were red and wild, her kinky curls sprung out all over her head. Wanted him? He'd not dreamed she'd did. She'd run from him on several occasions, so forgive him for not considering it. Wanted him?

He wanted her. Of course he wanted her. Lying near her every night and not touching her had been the most arduous test of his will. He'd bury his face in her curls to gain the scent of her and try not to touch her. He'd try not to think about sinking into her skin and tearing off her clothes and being inside of her and kissing her and caressing her and... He'd not have gone to Elisabeth if it weren't for this madness. Even Elisabeth had not cured it for now he sat with this girl wanting her just as wildly as he'd had before. Emilian could scream for the want of her. Young as she was, innocent as she was: he craved her.

"I thought you were frightened of me."

Sarah huffed, "No."

"You ran from me," he told her gruffly. She spoke to him like he had no cause in his accusation. "You ran from me over and over."

"I'm not running anymore," Sarah told him fiercely.

He breathed a long sigh, "I'm sorry I went to Elisabeth."

Sarah breathed too, "I'm sorry as well." It was unclear what she was sorry for: the blame was all his own. "I want to be here. I want to be with you. And if you do not want that, then tell me now. Tell me now, Emilian, and I'll stop my fanciful dreaming. I'll go to the shore with you. I'll adjust to my new life: you just have to tell me-"

He pressed his lips onto hers before she could even finish. She hesitated a moment before Sarah kissed him with equal vigor. She kissed him in a way that neither Elisabeth nor any other woman did. Sarah kissed him like she was frantic, like she was hungry. Her kisses were young and full of fire and unrelenting. Damn the sin of it. Damn it all. Damn how fucked every bit of it was. He'd bury his guilt in her.

"I'll have you every day, if you want that." He spoke roughly into her ear, a rage building in him. Damn her. Damn this young girl. Damn whatever witchcraft she'd placed upon him. Maybe she had learned spells in her time visiting gypsies. Maybe she had bewitched him. This infatuation was all consuming, it was all encompassing. It had not burned away since her turning. It had not grown any less fierce. Damn her. Fuck her. The little beast. The little temptress.

Emilian pushed her to the bed, holding her there as he lowered himself onto her. Damn her as she gasped and squeaked beneath his hold. Fuck her as she panted when he bit into her soft neck. Emilian ripped the damned nightdress from her body. There were others nightdresses. Hundreds of nightdresses. He undid his trousers and thrusted into her.

Sarah cried out but he didn't care for damn her for driving him wild. Damn her for all of this. Her little fingers were raking into his back and eventually she tore the shirt from his form. Emilian leaned down, touching his lips to hers as he slid in and out of her warm opening. Sarah gasped in time, her eyes glassy but he pressed his lips into her neck and he heard her sigh in relief. She smelt so intoxicating. How could she still smell so inviting to him?

In a move entirely unexpected, Sarah moved swiftly so that she was on top of him. The nightdress hung around her shoulder, a torn robe framing her body. Her lips were parted as she rocked her lithe body on top of his own. He reached up, touching her hair then wrapping it in his fist and pulling her close to him. She cried out again, light sweat lining her body. He pressed his lips into her neck again, bringing them to her breasts, her collar bone. Damn the girl. He pushed her back down to the bed again and thrust into her until he climaxed. She'd been close, he could tell, but in his greed he'd not cared. A wave of strange confusion came over her face so he removed himself from her and kissed down her frame til he was between her legs. Sarah grasped at him, her fingers wrapped in his hair until she reached her own release and he grasped her in his arms again, kissing all parts of her skin.

"I love you," she said softly. He was about to respond when she continued, "Don't tell me that I do not."

Dear thing... He kissed her neck, her ear, he drew her closer to him and they made love again. Sweetly this time, unlike the previous. His patience paid off and they climaxed as one and she kissed him and again said that she loved him. She knew not what she was saying, of course, but he so relished hearing her say it.

"Please don't go back to her." Sarah's voice spoke in a way to make him feel like the most despicable being.

He promised, "Never." He took Sarah's hand in his and kissed her fingers. "Never."

Eventually, she drifted to sleep and he stayed there lying next to her. For whatever odd guilt he'd felt before, it was gone. This feeling was far sweeter.