A/N

If you are triggered by themes and mentions of rape, please skip this chapter. 

As the date for the departure to Transylvania neared, Amelie distanced herself more and more from Aurélie. She was only seen in the companion’s bedchambers in the evening when Aurélie woke up and when she went back to bed. Things that needed to be packed away were always left on Aurélie’s table, with a hastily scribbled note stating that the maid was busy somewhere else. When Aurélie confronted Étienne about this he had merely shrugged, stating that it was not uncommon for the staff to get busy when half the household had to leave for several weeks. Aurélie herself had been surprised at exactly how long they would be staying at the Delacroix estate. Duke Saint-Clair had called upon both Aurélie and Étienne one evening, stating that they would be staying with Duke Delacroix until the end of September. Étienne had mumbled something about rather standing in the sun for an entire day, while Aurélie simply smiled and nodded. 

The evening before their departure Aurélie caught Amelie as she was about to run into the kitchens, in a feeble attempt to avoid the companion. The young maid let out a squeak as Aurélie threw the doors open and stood in the doorway, her eyes scanning the room. Pierre stood behind the counter looking at her questioningly, while Amelie was stuck in the corner of the room. 

“Amelie, what on earth is going on?”

Pierre cleared his throat and excused himself, vanishing into the pantry. 

Amelie looked down, sitting down at the table next to the window, where Aurélie and Pierre had planned the dinner for Duke Saint-Clair’s evening. The maid patted the seat next to her, and Aurélie walked over and let herself sit down. She watched as Amelie pulled out her slate and began writing. Her writing was smaller and neater than usual, and Aurélie had to wait quite a while before she was shown the slate. 

I am just nervous about you going to Transylvania. Like at the dinner, I will not be present. I was trying to avoid you finding out until you left. I am sorry if I caused you to worry. It was not my intention to. I am just uncomfortable being confronted about anything to do with the Delacroix family. 

Aurélie looked up at her maid, sighing. “You could have just told me, Amelie. This entire time I thought I had done something to hurt you.”

Amelie quickly shook her head. You could never do or say anything that would hurt me. Not after what Delacroix did to me. 

“What on earth did he do to you? Is there anything I need to watch out for?” 

Make sure Étienne is with you. He will protect you should the Duke try anything. He is a nasty man with an even nastier temper.

Aurélie looked down at her hands, which Amelie had grasped tightly. Her knuckles were white and the maid looked at her with desperation. 

“Amelie,” Aurélie began, shifting in her seat slightly. “What did he do to you?” 

The young maid took a deep breath and reached for her slate, beginning to write.

***

Several years ago…

“I am so sorry, your grace! I did not mean to misplace part of your annual budget!” A woman with red hair said with a shaken voice, clutching her chest. The man with dark hair, wearing a long dark robe, loomed over her with a snarl on his face. He took a step forward, causing the woman to crash into the desk behind her. She steadied herself by placing her other hand on the desk. The ink pot swayed at the impact, falling over and spilling ink across several sheets of parchment and letters. 

“How did you manage to misplace over a thousand forint?” The man’s shout echoed throughout the chamber. His hand shot forward and clasped the woman’s face. She looked at him with wide eyes. 

“Please, Duke Delacroix. I will find them!”

The man chuckled, sending a chill down the woman’s spine. “When I hired you you were nothing but a whore begging on the streets of the revolution. This is how you repay me?”

“I was the best courtesan in France, not some common whore!”

The room echoed with the sound of a slap. The woman held her face and looked up at the Duke, who looked down at her, furious. A second of silence followed before he pushed her down on the desk. She squirmed underneath his grasp, trying to break free from his weight. 

“Perhaps you should go back to that. Bookwork never suited you in the first place,” the Duke said. She could feel his breath, flinching as his hands moved down. 

“No,” she whispered, her eyes wide open as she felt her skirts being ruffled up. A hand around her neck followed shortly after, pushing her down further onto the desk. 

“Please, no,” the woman choked, tears forming in her eyes. She felt the Duke’s heat near her thighs, nausea washing over her. She fumbled around the desk with her free arm, desperately trying to find something. Letting out a wince from the Duke’s impact, her fingers found solace around a letter opener. With one quick motion she pushed the blunt blade into his side, causing him to gasp and fall to the side, crashing into a potted plant. Dirt and clay scattered onto the carpet as the woman stood up, her heart racing. She picked up her skirts and ran out of the room. The hallways of the estate became a blur as she continued to run to the front door. She had to get far away from this place. Several of the staff members looked after her in confusion, angry shouts from the Duke following after her when she reached the front doors. The woman briefly looked behind her and gasped, trying to pick up her pace. Her assailant was a few paces behind her, shouting profanities after her. 

It was cold and snow had begun to cover the grounds of the Duke’s estate. The woman cursed as her boots began to sink. She continued to run— much slower than before, tripping over hidden roots and stones. The snow turned red underneath the Duke’s heavy footsteps. He panted, trying to reach the woman a few mere paces ahead of him. His hand clasped around her ankle as he began to fall, causing the woman ahead of him to fall with him. She let out a scream, turning around on the ground. Her hair and clothes were soaked. 

The Duke slowly crawled his way over to her. The woman was frozen and watched with wide eyes as he crawled over the top of her, his eyes a glowing amber colour, fangs growing longer. She let out a bloodcurdling scream as his fangs sunk into her neck. Her flailing stopped and her screams turned into whimpers as she felt herself growing weaker under the Duke. Grunts and moans were dampened by the heavy fall of the snow. The woman felt the Duke’s claws tearing up her thighs and abdomen. She stayed in the snow, tears trailing down her pale cheeks, her vision becoming blurry. With a sigh of relief she welcomed the blackness that washed over her. 

When the woman awoke she found herself dressed in rags, her wrists chained together. Gasping for air she looked around herself. Thick iron bars blocked her view, stone walls surrounding her. It was cold and wet, groans of pain echoing around the Duke’s dungeon. The woman pulled up her ragged dress, gasping at the bruises and deep cuts on her thighs. She looked down and noticed the same marks on her arms, abdomen and breasts. Nausea washed over her and she emptied her stomach contents to her side, beginning to sob. She winced in pain as she began to cry, her hand instinctively going to her throat. She felt a heavy bandage around her neck. With shaking hands she began to untie the bandage, letting out a yelp as she felt long, deep gashes and fang marks.  Whimpering, she gently tied the bandage back around her neck. She winced as she heard her name called out loudly. 

Several men marched towards her cell, Duke Delacroix walking in the centre of the group. The woman began to scramble to the back of her cell, trying to get as far away from him as possible. She tried to yell but found herself unable to. The pain in her neck was too much and she ended up coughing, her face twisting in pain. Blood droplets splattered the ground beneath her. 

With wide eyes she looked up at the Duke, who peered down at her with a dark expression. 

“Take her away and get her out of my sight.”

Without another word the Duke spun and walked back down the hallway, leaving the woman by herself with a group of men. They picked her up by the elbow and began dragging her out of her cell. She tried to protest, soft whimpers the only thing escaping her lips. The group of men lead her through the cold dungeon. Curious faces peered through the iron bars that they passed. After walking through endless corridors and past the main house, the woman was forced into a small carriage. Her feet were chained and soon the carriage began moving. The group of men escorted the woman for days, with little breaks in their journey. During the daylight the carriage was placed in the shade, the men leaving the woman to sleep in the carriage. Every now and then a dead animal was tossed in for her to feed on. 

After countless days and hours the carriage came to a stop. It was the middle of the night when the carriage door was opened. The woman blinked a few times in surprise, realising that they came to a stop in front of a small town square. Yelling was heard a little further away from where they had come to a stop. A large crowd of people were gathered, each dressed in upper class outfits. As she was pulled along she noticed that all of them were vampires, peering down at her in pity and disgust. The men who had escorted her to the town pulled her towards a platform. Several people were standing on the platform, dressed in similar rags and looking pale. As she listened closer to the commotion she realised that people were bidding. Every now and then silence followed after a bid, and the people on the platform were escorted off. She watched in horror as she was being dragged towards the empty platform. 

The crowd fell silent as she stepped onto the platform. The woman’s hair was greasy and dirty. The cuts and bruises on her arms and thighs slowly fading, yet still visible. She faintly heard someone read out her background and where she came from. Murmurs rolled through the crowd, followed by a starting bid. Based on the currency and language that was being betted in she figured out that she was somewhere in France. Her eyes welled with tears, recalling her former home and where she had worked before working for Duke Delacroix. She looked around the town, trying to find any indication as to where she was exactly. Nothing identifying stood out to her. 

“I will take her for 200 francs.” A younger voice piped up from the crowd. The woman’s thoughts were interrupted as she scanned the crowd. Several members parted to let a young man— no older than 20, step forward. The man had short dark hair, dark blue eyes looking up at the woman. He was dressed in an elaborate navy coat. Silence followed the crowd after his offer, and within seconds a bell rang. She now belonged to him, and was quickly whisked off the stage, the smile of the young man echoing in her mind. Her heart beat heavy in her chest and she grew nervous as she was escorted towards a new carriage. The young man who had bought her leaned against the door, quickly straightening himself up when she approached. 

“Here she is, master Saint-Clair. Be careful, this one is known to stab her masters,” the man holding her said, pushing her forward. The woman stumbled, still shackled up. The young man in front of her caught her, nodding at the men.

“Thank you, gentlemen. That will be all.”

Without a word they left, tossing the keys to her shackles behind them and leaving the woman alone with the man who had bought her. The man watched them leave before shaking his head and sighing. He picked up the keys and kneeled down, unlocking the shackles at the woman’s ankles and wrists. 

“Well, you are free to run along.”

The woman looked down at him as the shackles fell off. She tried to voice her confusion but her voice was gone. The man stood up and grasped her by the shoulders lightly, his dark blue eyes peering into her green ones. 

“I can see from your injuries that you suffered a great deal of pain. I can smell him all over you. Duke Delacroix has visited my estate plenty of times for me to recognise the scent.”

The woman’s eyes welled with tears as she let out a stifled sob. The man in front of her sighed, opening the carriage door, holding out his arm. 

“My apologies, we should at least get you cleaned up and looked at before we set you free. My estate is less than a day’s ride away.”

The woman continued to sob and hesitantly stepped into the carriage, clutching her neck. The man stepped in after her and yelled out to the coachman, urging him to hurry. He watched as the woman sat opposite of him, pressing herself against the door of the carriage. She was dressed in rags, cuts and bruises covering her from head to toe. She looked tired and weak, as if she had walked through hell and back. As they began their journey, rain started to fall. The windows of the carriage fogged up quickly, and the woman began to shiver. Without a word the man took off his coat and gently draped it over her, apologising as she winced away from him. 

“My name is Étienne. What is yours, if I may ask?” he said with a gently tone.

The woman opened her mouth as if to speak, but quickly shut it again as a sharp pain ran up her neck. She winced before looking around the carriage. She noticed the fogged up window and shifted closer, writing her name. 

My name is Amelie. 

*** 

Aurélie wiped her eyes, her hand finding Amelie’s and giving it a tight squeeze. 

“What you went through is awful! Words cannot express how horrible the things Duke Delacroix did to you are,” the companion said between soft sobs. 

Amelie placed her other hand over Aurelie’s, giving her a soft smile. She turned back to the slate, quickly writing something out.

What happened cannot be undone. Amelie pulled down her collar, showing her neck. Aurélie was taken aback by the lack of scars. We heal quickly and well. Even though the gashes are gone I can still see and feel them, as if they were still there. Étienne saved me and allowed me to restart my life. For that, I will be forever indebted to him. 

Aurélie nodded, placing her handkerchief back into the pockets of her dress. “It was kind for him to allow you to work for him, despite setting you free.”

Yes, it was. After I explained my situation he quickly talked to Duke Saint-Clair and arranged for me to work here in the chateau. To this day, however, I am still free to leave at any time. 

“Have you ever thought about leaving?” Aurélie asked, turning back to Amelie, who shook her head. 

I like it too much here. The Saint-Clair family is kind and I know that I am safe here. Besides, who would look after you if I was gone?

Aurélie chuckled. “You are right. I am not so sure about my trip now.”

Amelie shook her head, quickly tapping against her slate. Étienne will be with you.

Aurélie sighed, squeezing Amelie’s hand once more. “Thank you for telling me your story. It must be very hard to share it. You are very brave and I am very lucky to have you look after me. I will miss you a lot.”

Amelie smiled and held out arms, leaning forward. Aurélie allowed the young maid to embrace her tightly. She felt Amelie gently patting her hand on her back. After a while the maid let go, smiling up at the companion. 

We should finish getting you ready for tomorrow. Do not worry about me. I am in good hands. 

Aurélie nodded and let herself be pulled along. 

Her heart was heavy as she looked at Amelie’s neck, dainty and free of any marks.