Chapter Text
Rapunzel gazes across the ballroom floor in search of a familiar face from her spot by the corner of the banquet.
Various royals and officials mingle with each other over by long tables piled high with luxurious food, some deigning to dance in the middle of the vast room instead. But Rapunzel isn't looking for a noble. And really, when is she ever?
She's trying to keep away from everyone for once. Unlike her, yes, but the appetizing scent of blood pervading the room makes it hard to concentrate—despite the fact that she had fed on Cass minutes before the banquet. Rapunzel needs all the self control she can get tonight for it to go without incident.
No, she isn't looking for any sort of human. She's searching for Cassandra. She had been standing by Rapunzel’s side a few minutes ago, but is currently nowhere to be seen. I can’t go the night without her, Rapunzel thinks idly. Who else will make fun of how stuffy these functions are with me?
Or keep me in control if the hunger becomes too strong.
Her stomach already aches. A wave of shame washes over Rapunzel—even if it isn't her fault that humans are supposed to be her prey. Cassandra had said it would get easier with practice, but it barely feels more manageable than it had been before. Sharp scents swirl around the ballroom, unwanted and overwhelming. Too much, too much, too much. She does her best to breathe shallowly.
A foul stench grows stronger, and Rapunzel eyes fall on a tall man a few paces away from her dressed in a tasteful emerald suit. From one inhale alone, she can tell the older man has a few personal hounds, and a cut somewhere on his body beginning to fester. She'll have to remember to tell the castle nurses later.
The silver lining in being a vampire; she can use her gifts to help people.
The most tragic drawback of it? Rapunzel had had a single day to enjoy her freedom before Gothel had bitten her.
She misses food in all its savoury glory. She misses all the adorable dogs that roam the streets of Corona, with their bright eyes and wagging tails. How can anyone not love them? But it's difficult to be near them in this new form they smell rancid. Not necessarily because of their natural odour, though that didn't help. Dogs simply have a tendency to get themselves covered in countless things, or run amok in the rain and their wet fur smells horrid for hours afterwards. Their stench is incredibly powerful, not alluring in the least.
As Rapunzel internally mourns for her love of canines, she spots her favourite one of all across the room. An easy smile slips onto her face at the sight of dark hair tucked into Cassandra’s ever present head cover. But it deflates when she notices Cassandra’s tense stance and lack of eye contact with whomever she's talking with. The look is intimately familiar. Rapunzel herself had been subjected to that treatment many times when she initially arrived at the castle. Rapunzel scrutinizes the man next to Cassandra for a few moments. His clean shaven face looks rather familiar.
She scowls as the memory of him continuously trying to flirt with Cassandra throughout the past week comes to mind. His father is king of some far dominion who thought it would be good practice for his son to engage in politics and negotiations. Needless to say, the younger man is more interested in the “enchanting handmaiden” he’d accidentally happened upon.
Now, don’t get her wrong, it's not that she's annoyed. Rapunzel is just… cautious! And looking out for Cassandra. Sure, Mr. Prince seems very nice and polite... but Rapunzel can't help the twist in her stomach every time she sees him near Cassandra.
Determined to be a good friend and prove that she can be supportive don’t be bitter, do not be bitter, Rapunzel downs her third glass of mulled wine tonight in one go and skips across the polished, tiled floor over to Cassandra.
Mistake.
Skipping is not a good idea after chugging the rest of her mulled wine. With nothing in her system, the effects make itself known while she's halfway across the dance floor in the swaying of the tiles beneath her, the sudden intensity of the gleaming lights and sounds of overlapping chatter attacking her senses. Her carefully built up walls are crumbling. Rapunzel’s drive to find Cass intensifies, redoubling her efforts to weave through as carefully as possible between the crowd of bright suits and dresses. The heat of the crowd starts warming her cold skin, making her head foggy and sluggish.
There.
Rapunzel catches a glimpse of Cass’s sky blue robes over by the silver platter piled high with pork slices and roasted vegetables. Another time she might’ve been distracted by the feast on the table, but currently she's trying to escape the one she's manoeuvring through. As Rapunzel gets closer, her heightened hearing focuses intently on Cass’s low voice; a soothing balm against the fake, high pitched laughter and blaring instruments.
“I’m afraid not, sir. I’ve lived here for as long as I can remember. I haven’t travelled,” Cassandra says calmly.
“Ah, well, maybe I could help you with that. Our kingdom has splendid facilities and exceptional training grounds. You’d be welcome any time.” Rapunzel flinches at the flirtatious tone of Mr. Prince. It's important to learn the names of all the royals, she knows, but the anger roiling in her stomach says that his name isn't worth remembering. After all, he wants to take Cass away. Cass, her best friend. The reason she's come to terms and adapted to her vampiric situation in the first place. The woman who brightens every day Rapunzel spends living in this glorified tower, who helps Rapunzel sneak out and actually experience the world out there when it feels like stone walls come crashing down around her and she can't breathe. Restrained and suffocating, Rapunzel knows it all too well.
Yeah, she is not losing Cass. Ever.
“How do you know that I can fight? Have you been watching me?” Cassandra frowns.
“I happened upon you training the other day by accident. I must say, I’m impressed—“
Rapunzel finally breaks free from the masses and pads over to them. That strange sensation writhes painfully in her gut again when she notices the prince towering over Cass, how she’s pressed against the hard edge of the table in an attempt to keep a distance from him.
“Cass! There you are! I’ve been looking all over for you,” Rapunzel exclaims happily, a tad too loud. She reaches out to lay her hand on Cass’s arm; a gesture of safety. Grey eyes flicker to her green, stunned.
“Princess Rapunzel! How nice of you to join us. We were just talking about your handmaiden's aptitude for sword fighting. She’d be perfect for a guard assignment, or perhaps a soldier. Her collection of bruises can attest to her hard work. So, tell me, why are her talents being wasted?” The prince questions.
She doesn't like that she agrees with Mr. Prince. She doesn't like that even a stranger from a strange land can see Cassandra's potential more clearly than both their fathers. She shoves that thought down quickly, but continues to burn at the mention of Cass’s bruises. Those aren't from sword fighting. Those are from feeding. Those are from Rapunzel. Those marks are hers, just like Cassandra is hers.
“Believe me, I'm aware of her incredible skill. I’ve been talking with the Captain of the guard. He's a bit old-fashioned, but I have no doubt Cassandra will join the guard in time,” She says proudly, snatching Cass’s hand to guide her away. “Now if you’ll excuse me, we have business to attend to.”
. . .
Every cell in Rapunzel's body is on fire. Somewhere in the back of her mind she hears Cass asking her what's wrong, but it doesn't pierce the haze that muddies her thoughts. Seconds are minutes and minutes are hours as Rapunzel frantically searches for an exit, instincts screaming for somewhere dark and chilled.
Even after they pass beneath high stone arches and past solid wood doors, Rapunzel keeps prowling through the castle corridors until they're completely alone. When she stops, they find themselves by the supply closets for the maids. The guards rarely patrol this wing at this hour, evident by the few lanterns trying to light the shadowed hall like fireflies trying in vain to brighten the night sky.
Belatedly, Rapunzel realizes Cassandra’s hand is still clasped in her own and lets go quickly. She takes a few shuddering breaths and leans her forehead against the cool wall, trying to ignore the wave of feelings threatening to spill over. Fire licks at her insides, giving way to thick smoke that snakes its way to her throat, damning her to silence and rugged breaths. The demon in her writhes in satisfaction and glee at the whirlwind of warring emotions, sharp talons seizing her stomach and drawing goosebumps to her lukewarm flesh. It awakens, green-eyed and hungry.
Its attention whirls to Cassandra behind her. Cassandra, who's still trying to get her attention. Who smells faintly of pine, of earth, of steel, and of rainy days, complete with an undercurrent of something electric. Shocking. Tantalizing. Like the sensation of her touch, and the spark it ignites.
Rapunzel turns around slowly, and Cassandra’s face floods with relief. Lidded green eyes nonchalantly drink in the sight of fair features and stormy irises stare back; observes the sweeping curve of her nose, the heavy blush dusting the tops of her cheeks; studies her mouth as a lithe tongue darts out to run itself quickly over parted lips, a short moment that seems like forever as Rapunzel's breath catches in her throat. A beat. Another. Then, finally, her gaze proceeds its exploration to the elegant jawline that connects to the column of Cassandra's delicate neck.
She can practically see the blood pumping through her veins wildly, courtesy of Cassandra’s wolf blood. The rushing thump, thump, thump of her pulse fluttering right underneath the fragile porcelain of her skin. How easy it would be to sink her fangs into the welcoming surface. How eagerly the blood would spill out for Rapunzel to lap up and suck. The way her fierce Cassandra would go still, clutching at her dress feebly as small whimpers and sighs would spill from her lips as naturally as water spills over the lip of a fountain.
The memory of those tauntingly sweet sounds spurs Rapunzel's inner demon further, and she lets it take the reins as she reaches back to open the door to her left hastily. Her other hand reaches out, snatching the neckline of Cassandra’s garb and yanking as Rapunzel quickly shuffles backwards into the inviting obscurity of the closet.
It’s just Cass and her monster in the blaze of their ritual now. Their salvation. Them and the four walls of their blessed alcove—the key to their respite from duty, from responsibility, from reason. The key to their joined relief.