Cheers to Forever, Love.

And the Rest is History

Chapter Eight.

Two years later, Lance had become a big part of the lives of the Heretic and her daughter.
According to all official platforms, Emma had officially become Freya's adopted daughter, but all birds had to fly the nest eventually, even swans.
Lance had stuck around for Freya as she struggled to cope with Emma's departure to Boston and they even ended up moving in together.

"Hey, Dracula." The Heretic smirked as she found Lance splayed out on the couch.
"Yes, dear one?" He looked up from his book.
"I've made you something." She smiled, practically skipping over to sit next to him.
"Oh?" Lance raised an eyebrow.
"Hold out your hand." Freya instructed.
He did as told, holding his right hand out to her.
Gently, she placed her gift into his palm.
He looked down and saw it was a Signet ring with his family crest on it. The jewel beneath the crest, however, is what caught Lance's eye first.
It was Lapis Lazuli – she'd made him a Daylight ring.
"Are you serious?!" Lance stared at her, open-mouthed.
"Well, I thought nine hundred years waiting was about long enough." She shrugged, smirking.
"Holy crap, thank you Freya!" The Vampire beamed, instantly pulling her in for a tight hug.
"Like all magic, this comes with a price." The Heretic pointed her finger in his direction.
"Don't care. I'll pay it." Lance replied as he slipped the ring onto his right ring finger.
Freya hesitated, but came out with it all the same.
"I want you to start helping me find a way back to Killian again." She said.
Lance looked to her with sympathy.
"Freya, we've talked about this..." He sighed.
"I have tried to live without him, Lance. I got Emma back and that was a massive bonus. But now she's gone and even though you're here, I feel so alone."
Lance shook his head, thinking for a moment.
"I get it." He replied.
Freya took his hand, rubbing her thumb over the Vampire's latest item of jewellery.
"I need this, Lance." She practically whispered.
The Vampire looked up at his Heretic sire, taking in every detail of her face. She was more sincere about this than she had been about anything and Lance could see that.
"Okay." He nodded. "I'll help you get back to him."
Freya's expression instantly transformed into a wide grin as she pulled him into a tight hug.
"Thank you so much, my pup." She mumbled against his shoulder.

Flashback.

In late winter of 1144, an eighty-three year old Freya was on her way to a business meet in a stunning villa on the outskirts of Naples.
She rode in her carriage, drawn by two stunning black horses, accompanied by a small group of guards and two servants, who kept her company in the comfort of the carriage.

Freya looked out of the window to see the few hundred acres of land that surrounded the villa of Count Pietro Trevisan, one of the most powerful men in Italy, but also one of the most brutish.
A closer inspection led to Freya seeing the welcoming committee – the Count, his wife; Valentina, his head of staff and a few servants to collect the luggage.

"Salve Lady Freya. What an honour to be gifted with your beautiful presence. Gratias tibi, my Lady – gratias tibi." The short, balding, plump man greeted her as she stepped down from the carriage.
She smiled, putting her hand into his for him to place his greasy, stubbled lips to kiss.
"Gratias Count Pietro for having me." She curtsied deeply before turning to the wife. "And what a pleasure to finally meet you, Countess Valentina."
The young Countess gave a small smile and curtsey.
Freya paid a special attention to her, seeing her doe eyes and nervous posture. She was in her early twenties, clearly only married to the Count for the benefits it gave her and her family.
The count turned to his head of staff/right hand man, whom Freya had previously met during the Count's visit to England and uttered something in Latin.
The man appeared to be in his late fifties or early sixties, though it was hard to tell if the wrinkles and marks on his face were because of age or wearing from long days in the sun.
Instantly, he scurried towards a building that was kept separate from the main house.
A few moments later, five young and pretty Italian women exited, jogging towards the carriage to collect the luggage, followed by a man of African origin.
The Heretic was intrigued by the man, having not seen a coloured person since a particular incident with a Kenyan tribe she'd rather not recollect.
He found her gaze within a matter of seconds, offering her a small smile that seemed awfully bold to Freya. She was a woman out of her time – the way she saw it, the people of Earth all bled the same colour, so why should anyone be treated differently because of something as insignificant as heritage or background? Any and all of Freya's servants were there of their own accord, paid very well and treated like Human beings.
But seeing him and his boldness only created questions. Freya felt drawn to the man and so, as soon as her meeting was over for the day, she decided to go and see him.