Princess Eleanor was buried right next to her mother. Her casket was dazzlingly white, it burned Silvan's vision.
As a High Priest, he performed her burial rites, the muttered words flat as they fell past his pale lips. No one would ever know, but the one week Silvan had spent in seclusion was spent on his knees at the altar repeating the burial rites until he could perform them in his sleep.
When the rites were done, they stepped back to watch dirt be poured over the perfect white casket. Silvan felt an odd urge to call for them to stop and to dig his sister back out, but he didn't, quietly watching as more and more of that white wood was covered until he couldn't see the casket under the pile of earth.
He clutched the stake at his neck until the sharp edge cut into his palms and stained his robes red. It started to rain then, cold, slow drops like tears. It burned Silvan where it touched him, washing away the blood on his hands.
Silvan stayed outside in the rain long after everyone had left, he stood under the icy spring rain long after his sister had been covered up by dirt, the loose soil on her grave absorbing the rain.
His robes were soaked through as he turned away and left, the cold biting air doing nothing to touch the icy frost that enveloped his heart.
Eleanor had been sheltered all her life, the first time she would get to feel the rain on her skin was when she was six feet under the ground. Silvan could count the amount of times she had been allowed out of the castle, he could count because he vividly remembered each time.
Eleanor had told him that if she got better, she would come to pray at the temple, but she never came to the temple, she never got better. Her life had been short and filled with burdens, she hadn't been allowed to enjoy the little things in life in a bid to keep her alive for a while longer…
And it was all because of the damned Vampires.
Silvan walked back to the temple in the rain preparing to return to his seclusion.
Alexander watched his younger brother walk past with a scowl on his face, he was standing under one of the castle arches, and it was because his father refused to go into the castle until Silvan returned to the temple.
His scowl remained on his face as he watched Silvan's slow steps, always quick to play the pariah. He turned to his father with a scheming look in his eyes. "Why don't you send Silvan in Eleanor's place? He's as much of royalty as she was."
Rolfe kept his eyes trained on the back of his son's priestly robes until he lumbered out of sight. "Silvan despises Vampires. If I do that, I might as well be declaring war." With a forced smile, he added, "I would be better off sending you instead."
Alexander watched his father turn to leave with a look of muted rage in his dark blue eyes, his father would rather send him, the heir to the throne in place of Silvan.
He scoffed as he ducked into the rain, seeming not to notice his clothes getting soaked through. The rain was tapering off, sunlight starting to break through the clouds. Alexander headed right for the stables, he needed to go for a ride to clear his head.
-+-
Although Rolfe had turned Alexander down when the Crown Prince suggested that he send Silvan in place of Eleanor, it lingered in his mind.
If he was willing to offer another child, it would lend integrity to his words. Besides, the Royal family of Vampires had just two sons, at most Silvan would just be made to be a member of their court.
Rolfe tried not to think about what he would be taking from Silvan by ordering him to do this and failed. He could either choose to save his country or keep his son's regard.
He cut off that train of thought there but his choice had already been made, and it was whispered in the dark recesses of his mind like a mantra that sought to drive him insane.
There were less than three weeks until the bridal ceremony when Eleanor was supposed to be sent off to Vallyn. If he couldn't come up with a solution in that time, he would have to bloody his hands with the lifeblood of another child of his.
Rolfe felt like an invisible hand was clutching his throat. The cold despondent rain had given way to bright sunlight and the castle was slowly filling up with the occupants that had been sent out, but the warmth didn't touch his old cold bones.
A coughing fit seized him, one that sent Graham rushing into his study in a panic and left Rolfe breathless.
The King waved a hand to silence his courtier after he put himself together, "It's nothing."
"Wait-" He stopped Graham when the courtier bowed and was about to take his leave. Rolfe's expression was grim as he made a decision, "I want you to find a handful of maidens that passably look like Princess Eleanor."
Rolfe had to say that through gritted teeth, but he was greedy. He wanted to save his country and keep as many of his children by his side that he could.
Graham immediately understood what his King intended to do, he bowed again, slowly this time and spoke solemnly. "As Your Majesty wishes."
Graham backed out of the study and went right to work, knowing how little time they had left. Finding maidens around Princess Eleanor's age that had a passing resemblance to her was easy enough, it was finding one who had the mannerisms of a noble lady that would be the issue.
And even if he wanted to have them trained, there was simply not enough time to teach a commoner to be a Princess in the span of a fortnight. He kept all of these problems to himself, despite how daunting the task was, he simply had to try.