Amber was far from studious, but that didn't stop Rotti from insisting upon her getting an education. He tried to get her into a good school. He wanted her to be educated not because he genuinely believed that she could do it, though. He just wanted her to be smart and educated in order to brag that she was. Amber knew this and fought tooth and nail to get out of going. This was one battle she did not win. At least not at first.
Amber was successfully shipped out to some fancy, far off school but she didn't last more than a semester before quitting. She would've been expelled sooner had the dean had the courage to kick out the daughter of the king of the world. It was a good day for everyone when Amber publically denounced the school and went home. Seriously, though, Amber was sure she hadn't learned a thing. It was all just boring, stupid, useless facts that nobody needed to know! Right? Well, even if the facts were useless, a few of them did manage to stick with the airheaded heiress, though they didn't always resurface in the ways she thought.
Amber was headed in for a surgery, wanting magenta eyes instead of blue. Magenta was in at the moment and blue was considered overused to the point of being cliché and passé. Amber simply could not be out of the trend so she booked an operation at once. Now here she stood, climbing onto the operating table where new eyes would be sewn in. But first, Zydrate. Though the medically approved kind wasn't as good as the street-grade stuff, Amber supposed it would suffice for now. As the glowing blue liquid coursed through her veins, Amber watched the Genterns prep for her operation. Scalpels were lined up neatly and the jar with the eyes was rolled in. Gloves were snapped on and towels to wipe off the blood were brought in. Blood. Blood.
Elizabeth Bathory was a Hungarian countess during the 1500s. She was also a serial killer whose kill count ranged from 85 to 600 depending upon the sources. Although it was entirely fictional, Elizabeth's biggest legacy was one particular thing she did to her victims. Apparently, her magnum opus was to kill her young virgin female servants and bathe in their blood in order to stay young and healthy. There were no accounts of this ever occurring in real life but it was still very much a part of her legacy. As Amber thought about this, she realized it was almost kind of part of her legacy too, though perhaps not in such a literal sense.
But as the Zydrate continued to kick in and as the Genterns continued to scurry around the operating room, Amber began to see things differently. Elizabeth Bathory killed girls for their blood to keep herself looking young. Amber did the same. Maybe not to such a literal extent, but still… How many times had Amber forced poor Genterns to slave over her drugged up body? How many times had she threatened those who messed up her latest operation? How many Genterns had died because she complained to Daddy about another botched surgery? Perhaps Amber didn't do the killing herself and perhaps she didn't bathe in blood, but she certainly had a similarly vain and selfish legacy built upon the blood and suffering of innocent, underprivileged girls looking for a job. Just a month ago, actually, something very Bathory had happened to Amber…
Amber went in for a face lift and came out with half of her face sagging.
"YOU IDIOT!" Amber screeched, yanking her deformed face from the mirror. "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE? YOU'VE RUINED ME!"
"Forgive me, Ms. Sweet!" the guilty Gentern bowed humbly, clearly afraid for her life. "It was an accident."
"An accident, eh?" Amber cackled, face twisting horribly. "I can cause those too, you know?"
"Oh, Ms. Sweet! Please don't!" the Gentern began to cry but Amber grew cross. She tried to get the woman to shut up but she was hysterical at this point.
"ENOUGH!" Amber finally physically lashed out, leaning out of the surgical bed on which she was resting. She clawed at the Gentern and managed to land a gnash on her cheek. Blood flew from the wound and onto Amber's hand. For a moment, the whole operating room fell silent and even Amber looked a little repulsed by what she had done. The moment she looked down at the blood on her hands, though, things changed. There was something almost lovely about it. It was warm, wet and a beautiful scarlet shade. She raised her hand, allowing it to snake down her arm in an enticing pattern. Amber hummed in something akin to pleasure as she continued to stare at the blood dripping down her arm.
When she looked into the face of the wounded Gentern, a similar noise came from her throat. There was something beautifully horrible and horribly beautiful about the pulsing red cut on the Gentern's pale face. There was something Amber loved as she watched the red lines create perfectly smooth trails down her cheek and jaw. The Gentern could sense what had Amber so transfixed and she had the good sense not to wipe away the blood even though she found it thick, sticky and gross. Instead, she let Amber continue to stare in rapture at it, hoping that maybe Amber would be merciful. Sadly, it was not to be. As entranced as Amber was by the sight of the blood, her reveries did come to a close eventually. As did the life of that Gentern.
That had been the last time Amber physically lashed out at a Gentern, but it didn't matter. Amber still remembered the blood. She remembered Elizabeth Bathory and her evil escapades. Amber remembered the bloodbaths. She remembered her own mini-bath and how lovely it had looked and felt. Just for a moment, she related to this long-dead murderess. Despite hating school with a passion, Amber did find a reason to thank it just this once for this one history lesson. Amber almost wondered if she ought to find a photo of Elizabeth Bathory and request a surgery to look like her, or if she should change her name. Elizabeth Sweet? No. Too old sounding. Amber Bathory? No. It didn't have a nice ring to it.
Well, whatever. Amber cast off her silly fantasies to return to the more philosophical side of her musing. She was basically a 21st century Bathory. She walked over underprivileged girls to have her way, regardless of the cost to those girls and she could easily bring them death at her expense if she chose. Heck, she could even pick how they died. And she used them to increase her vanity and she disposed mercilessly of them if they failed. She went through scores of Genterns over the yrs and bathed (metaphorically) in their blood. Their blood, their work, kept her young and pretty. Their blood, their service, was something Amber owned, stole, abused, replaced, and treasured. Their blood made Amber, Amber. Their blood gave Amber life and youth. She stole that from them without a care. She relished the high of it too much. She sounded just like Elizabeth Bathory, didn't she?
"Are you ready, Ms. Sweet?" a voice interrupted Amber's thoughts on Elizabeth Bathory. She looked up to see a Gentern staring nervously down at her. This one had been present the day Amber lashed out at the other one. Amber couldn't mask a sense of pride at having this Gentern cower.
"I am ready," she answered. Then the Gentern offered one last small narcotic. This one was not to kill the pain, that was what Zydrate did, it was to knock her out entirely. As that particular drug seeped through her veins, her last thought was a hope that this Gentern would have the correct shade of magenta on those eyes they were about to insert into Amber's head. And thus, the bloodbath began.
AN: If this story was bad, I apologize. It was honestly more of a character analysis than an actual story sequence. I've just always been fascinated by Elizabeth Bathory and after thinking about it, I saw how similar she was to Amber in a meta sense so I had to write this little ficlet.