Wife of Vladimir ||Book One||

Her Composure

"I wish it ended there. I wish that was it. I wish I didn't have to tell the rest of the story, the rest of what happened.

Forgive me if I can't continue.

You all have your own stories about what happened that night. Each of us experienced something different, but in the end we suffered the same. Let me share my suffering with you.

It was December fourteenth, eighteen-sixty-five. Alistair had just turned eight and I had just celebrated my twenty-ninth birthday. Rosetta and I had celebrated our ninth wedding anniversary. I had been in my office that night. The family had woken up mere hours before. While I wasn't sure where they were, I knew that they were safe and enjoying their time to themselves. The paperwork had piled up due to all the recent events, but I was slowly catching up.

As I signed my name at the bottom of the piece I was working on, a strange noise in the distance caught my attention. I stared at the scribbles I had made, trying to not focus on the patterns I had created or the thicker parts in the ink where I had pressed down harder. The noise was coming from outside the mansion, something familiar yet unsettling.

People were yelling. Their voices were muffled, telling me that the group wasn't close to the mansion yet but they were growing near. The wheels of a carriage crunched against the snow, followed by a gentle trot of horse hooves against the ice.

Even in my wildest thoughts, I never pictured what ensued. I placed my quill back into the ink and got out of my chair. The sounds were simple enough, but my chest told me that something was wrong. The only way I'd be able to put myself at ease would be to look.

I pulled back the curtains of my office, scanning what I could see for the source. I quickly became grateful that I had checked as a spark of fear shot through me.

Familiar faces were coming up over the hill that separated the mansion from the village. Each face I had come to know over the years carried a weapon. Some held fire, some held pitchforks, and some held daggers with a familiar glittering metal. Upon the carriage that was pulled at the same pace as those walking was a man who I had long forgotten about.

He stood on top, his crossbow already loaded in his hands. There was a wicked smile upon his face, the need to spill blood in his eyes. His men waited inside the carriage.

It was Darion.

I stumbled away from the window as he and I accidentally made eye contact. I could see him clearly from a distance, could even count how many drops of sweat gathered on his forehead, but knew he could only see my silhouette.

My mind became a mess. I remembered the night he had visited the first time all at once. I bumped into my desk, sending the papers scattering across the room but I cared not. If Darion was back, he was serious this time around. I ran out of my office and nearly bumped into a servant. 'Get everyone together! Tell Franklin to meet me at the entryway!' It was happening too often. It was the third time Franklin would stand by my side to help me defend our families.

My friend was beginning to show his age. The features of youth he had once had now crumbled away to reveal earned wrinkles and white hairs. I had to hope he had the energy left for one last defense.

Panic throbbed in my chest as I neared our bedroom, where Rosetta had been earlier. I was relieved when I opened the door to discover her still inside. I was becoming a terrified man as I heard the mob grow closer. Something told me they wouldn't be soothed so easily this time.

Rosetta was already at the window, an arm wrapped around herself as she held the curtain open. She jumped as I opened the door, though relaxed as she saw it was me. 'Vladimir, what's going on?' She left the window, quick to meet me halfway.