#&hadley

Still mine though, don't touch her. Unless you fancy your fangs as earrings.

Waking in the silence of the room wouldn't startle her if not for the blonde curled into her side. And she lay still, staring at the ceiling in the dark of her room. The shutters hadn't opened yet, still sealed tight to block the daylight from entering. She could feel the last vestiges of daylight seeping below the horizon, her ancient body now waking before the sun fully set. Maybe, her brain was dreaming for the first time in a millennium, maybe she'd gone deaf. Anything to reason away the silence she lay in.

But no amount of time changed the circumstances. The sun continued to creep closer to the horizon, she could almost picture its exact location. And the silence in the room continued on. Where there should be the pitter patter of a heart, the soft in and our of breathing, there was nothing. The sun still clung just above the horizon, but the Queen was suddenly sat upright in her bed, icy eyes falling on the blonde now laid beside her entirely too still.

"No," she whispered, trying to piece together how this had happened. How her Hadley was now dead?

Tentative fingers reached out, brushing a blonde lock of hair from her lover's face, dragging fingers down the curve of her cheek. Had she gone too far? Had she lost control and taken too much? No, that wasn't possible. She was always so careful with Hadley. She always made sure to replenish what she'd taken, sharing blood with the blonde enough to have created a blood bond with her. The red-head's mind was racing. Had her blood bond gone too far? She'd never heard of someone accidentally siring a vampire, accidentally sharing too much blood.

"Hadley," her voice was little more than a whisper as she gently shoved at the blonde's shoulder. Gone was the familiar warmth of her lover's skin, replaced by the cold of death. No response was received and Sophie-Anne stared silently, willing the moisture she felt along her lashline away. No, this couldn't be real.

Another handful of seconds past with the Queen in heavy contemplation, sifting through all her knowledge - fine details memorized, long forgotten stories, tall tales and historical facts she'd witnessed herself. Nothing called to her, nothing until the sun fell over the horizon full, until darkness settled and the light-tight shutters slid open. Only then did something change. The soft humming of her children, ever present at the back of her mind, internal thoughts amongst them all always ignored unless she needed them, now there seemed to be a new voice. A new buzzing to join the others, but she couldn't quite reach it, not yet.