The Blue Bloods

C2 - Eager to meet you

A lady that looks in her early thirties wearing an English Victorian Era dress that looks eighteen-thirties to Armenia with a Bertha neckline that is a low shoulder neckline exposing the skin of her shoulders, looking smooth, almost marble-like. The neckline was trimmed over with a three-inch-deep lace flounce.

To Armenia, it seemed that the lady had no problem breathing with her corset that she was clearly wearing, with that tiny waistline. Armenia wondered how she is able to even move her arms with the sleeves of her dress so tightly fitted.

In the room, the curtains were still shut with only a bed lamp giving light.

“Good evening,” the lady greets pulling a string hanging from the chandelier, lighting the room, the decor matches the Victorian Era dress that the lady is wearing.

“Good evening?” Armenia asks, wondering why the lady is laying a gown on the bed instead of a nightgown.

“The royals are eager to meet you, shall we get you ready?” the lady asks.

“The royals?” Armenia asks confused.

“Yes, you are to be wed tonight,” the lady says.

“I am Armenia, and you are?” Armenia introduces herself getting out of bed.

“I am Helen,” Helen introduces herself as she starts to unstring the dress Armenia is wearing.

“I did not expect Lord Darren to be so important that royalties will be attending his wedding,” Armenia says.

“You are not marrying Lord Darren.  Lord Darren is already married, he is my husband,” Helen says making Armenia look up at Helen.

Armenia looks at Helen, ‘but she is so dark, looks like the red Indian slaves.’

“A lady-in-waiting married to a Lord?” Armenia asks.

“I am not a lady-in-waiting; do you think a lady-in-waiting will be dressed as well as I am?” Helen asks as she slips the dress over Armenia’s head.

“I apologize, didn’t mean to offend you,” Armenia says, feeling her cheeks flush red.

“We are understaffed right now so my husband asks me to make sure that you look perfect for your wedding night,” Helen says buttoning the dress up.

“Is the man I am marrying a good man?” Armenia asks, nervous.

“I don’t know, it depends on who you will be marrying,” Helen says pulling the lace sleeves seam to line up perfectly.

“What do you mean?” Armenia asks, thinking that this dress is way too revealing, the style she has never seen before.

“Well, soon you will meet several men, all royal, mostly Kings,” Helen says.

“Where are these royal men from?” Armenia wonders.

“Mainly Europe.  Please take a seat so that I can do your hair,” Helen shows her to the vanity table.

“Will I be returning to Europe then?” Armenia’s eyes lit up.

“Highly unlikely,” Helen says as she takes out the hairpins that are holding Armenia’s hair into a high bun.

Armenia’s hair cascade down to her waist.

“Much better,” Helen says.

“Are you sure?  In England, that is in Europe by the way it is in style to have our hair up in a bun,” Armenia says, objecting to her hair down.

“Well, we are not in England, that is in Europe.  We are in America and here it is custom to wear your hair down, especially when you want to impress your husband to be,” Helen says.

Armenia picks up on her sarcasm and feels silly for thinking she won’t know where England is, ‘after all, her husband did buy me.’

“You are ready, please follow me,” Helen says after putting a tiara on Armenia’s head.

Armenia stands up, “what about shoes?”

“Right there, three different sizes,” Helen points out to a row of white silk-covered shoes that has a slightly raised heel. ‘At least the shoes are on point,’ Armenia thinks as she slips her feet into the smallest pair.

Armenia follows Helen through a long hallway and notices some paintings on the wall, all the people in them, beautiful.

They came to a halt in front of two large doors that are shut.

Helen waited without a word.  The two doors open and reveals a medium-size room, with young girls, looking about the same age as Armenia, all standing next to each other. 

“Hello Helen, how are you this lovely evening?” A man with tied-up long blond hair greets Helen, touching the thrills on her dress, near the swell of her breast.

“I am wonderful,” Helen says, brushing his hand away.

“Joining us this evening?” the man takes her hand and lands a kiss on it.

Helen pulls her hand from his, “Andrew, when will you realize that I will never be yours.”

“You were mine once,” Andrew reminds her, his voice a hint of anger.

“Four hundred years ago, for but a moment in time,” Helen says as she walks into the room, ignoring the stares from Andrew’s mother, Queen Anina, one of only two that survived the supernatural war, so they think.

Helen wishes that Andrew's turn will just come already to choose a human bride so that he can just let her be.  'One would think after a war of four hundred years he would have moved on, having better things to do than to pine over a lost love that was never his in the first place,' Helen thinks.

Helen hates it when her husband, Lord Darren leaves her alone at the castle, putting her as nothing more than a vulnerable human in danger.  Helen knows that the only thing that is keeping her safe and out of the mouths of the other vampires is the fact that she drinks her husband's blood every two to three days.  A vampire drinks from a human every two to three days to stay sane and in return a human drinks from the vampire to stay young.  While the blood of a vampire is in a human, another vampire can not drink from the human as it makes them sick.