#vampire sonamy

When Amelia Rose flees a loveless arranged marriage, she hopes for a life of freedom and opportunity. What instead finds her is a mysterious island, the attention of its Count, and a desperate web of lies spun to keep her identity secret. Now at the mercy of the island's nighttime terrors and the Count that graciously offered her refuge, Amelia--or rather, Amy--will need all her strength and cunning to secure the life she desires for herself. But what happens when the terrors of the island are no match for the Hearteater that lives within this castle's walls?

First Meeting

White Snake Gorge was aptly named. Cutting deep through the mountains between Soleanna and Spagonia in jagged sheets of sinuous white stone for dozens of miles, it marked the most treacherous obstacle for travelers to cross, for beneath the cold waters of the chasm's floor lie this serpent's hidden fangs… Deadly points of craggy rock buried beneath the brine that the unlucky only realized were there when they became unwillingly and violently introduced.

"M-M-M-Milady- p-p-p-please-," The pitiful sniveling had begun to grate on her ears, but she paid it no heed as the carriage teetered precariously on the gully's edge… then toppled. Her lips quirked, betraying her pleasure, listening raptly to the shattering of wood, the crushing of metal, the gurgles of the ravine as it swallowed the carriage whole then begged for more. But she turned away, eyed the mewling servant prone at her feet with distaste. She had no desire to stain her hands… and someone had to deliver the news of her demise to her groom-to-never-be.

"Come now, stop that fussing and rise." She commanded, then rolled her eyes when the finch scrambled to kiss her cloak hem and thank her for mercy. "Aye, yes, yes." She waved a hand and snapped her fingers to get his attention. "You will return to the Rose Estate in Spagonia. You will ensure the world knows that Amelia Rose is dead." Whatever feeble protests the finch had thought of making turned to saliva on his tongue upon sight of the glittering star—because surely a diamond so large and so sparkling in such darkness had to be a star plucked from this very night sky—held before his eyes. "Do you understand, Mr. Finch?" She purred.

She genuinely worried the foolish bird would break his own neck— and thus foiling her plan—with how forcefully he bobbed his head. "Y-Yes-yes, milady!"

She pressed the diamond into his hand and patted his cheek. "Thank you, Mr. Finch. Off you go, then." Her cloak snapped against his legs as she strolled past him.

"Y-Yes, milady!" Mr. Finch bolted down the battered path whence he had come, easily ignoring the strewn bits of splinters, silks, metals, jewels, and coin with his own newfound wealth clasped tightly in his fingers.

And his former mistress clicked her tongue to the magnificent cream-coated mare ground tied several feet away, elegantly climbing into the saddle, turning her mount away from the tatters of her dearly departed life as the Lady Heiress Amelia Rose, and vanishing into the darkness of the night… and the uncertainty of the unknown.

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Despite the circumstances that brought her here, even Amelia had to admit this tropical island was quite the paradise. Lush jungles, bright blue skies… even the tiny marketplace was lovely in its simplicity of small wooden huts and sturdy stone shops set along a single stretch of worn dirt path. It wasn't a horrible place to be stranded by any means, and the villagers were friendly and kind. Amelia should be thankful her ship hadn't sunk to the bottom of the sea in that storm the previous night, and she truly was, but…

But there was something about Mystic Ruins Isle that prickled along her fur. If it wasn't the curious stares or whispers, it was the peculiar behaviors. Amelia, however, did her best to ignore it. Perhaps the islanders were simply unused to visitors, and it wouldn't be long until she was on her way again. So, she stepped into a small clothing shop and requested a set of dresses and a new cloak from the shopkeeper, who proceeded to impress her by the speed which she gathered Amelia's order.

"Best get inside, dearie." The mouse pushed the packages into Amelia's hands with greater force than necessary, her whiskers twitching with unease.

Amelia clutched her purchases to her chest. "Wait, I also wanted-,"

"Remember to lock up tight now, dearie." The mouse spun Amelia around and firmly pushed her out the shop door in spite of Amelia's protests or the coin waved in front of the mouse's nose. "Don't dawdle, dearie."

Amelia spun around and held out a small ruby, comfortably nestled in her palm. "Please, if I could just get-,"

"Goodnight, dearie." The mouse slammed the door shut and lowered the window blinds.

Amelia stared at the garment shop door in disbelief. That was the fourth one to warn her against staying out after dark. Did animals venture from the vast jungles to specifically hunt the villagers after sunset? She glanced to the sinking sun, just barely coming within reach of the horizon, pulled the hood of her cloak tight around her face, and set off briskly down the dirt path. So occupied with searching for adequate lodging for the night, Amelia failed to notice the eyes that followed her course through the marketplace.

Like the clothing shop, everything was either already closed or in the process of closing for the night. Amelia spotted more than one shopkeeper hurriedly slamming the door and dropping the blinds as she passed by, and the only inn she came upon was thoroughly locked up and refusing to open no matter how she knocked and called to the door. Amelia hung her head and resigned herself to a night spent aboard the ship. It would be shelter from the elements, and the clothing she bought would provide extra warmth on what promised to be a chilled night…

"Seeking accommodation, little miss?" Amelia managed not to appear frightened at the sudden voice, though by the pleased glint in the hawk's eye, he wasn't fooled. Casually leaning against the shop post, Amelia hated how his blue eyes roamed over her, loathed the way a smirk twitched his bright yellow beak. "Perhaps I can be of service?"

Amelia had been warned countless times against remaining out after sunset, and perhaps she could accept the hawk's service and use him to find lodging, then be rid of him. Nevertheless, Amelia had been raised with etiquette sewn into her bones, so she hid her disgust with a feint polite smile. "No, thank you, sir. I'll manage on my own." However hubris her declination was, she would rather face the dangers of the Mystic Ruins night than spend a moment in the hawk's company. So, Amelia dipped her head and said in a sugary sweet tone. "Goodnight."

But when she turned to continue on her way, she found her path blocked by a wall of muscle and white-gray feathers. The albatross was so tall Amelia was forced to not only step back, but crane her neck to see his head. Beady blue eyes stared down at her over a large yellow bill curled into a menacing frown, and Amelia knew then that her consent was never a consideration. "But sweetheart, what sort of gentlemen would we be if we didn't insist?" The hawk cooed in an equally sugary tone that made Amelia's fur bristle beneath her cloak. Amelia half-turned, keeping the albatross in her sight while eyeing the hawk, and she despised that her only weapon of defense against them was the bundles of clothing in her arms.

But Amelia set her shoulders, raised her chin. 'You must stand tall, Amelia. Authority is derived from your stance. You will be the Lady Rose, and you must show that your rule is to be followed, not questioned.' "You will let me pass, sir." She commanded. Her voice carried through the empty night, the icy dominating tone narrowing the hawk's eyes slightly, but the insidious smirk on his bill only grew. Amelia glared back at him for a moment more before turning her head away and stepping around the albatross.

A massive hand clapped down on her bicep, gripping her so tightly that Amelia bit her lip to prevent her cry from leaving her tongue. The albatross spoke not a word, just hauled Amelia before the hawk without acknowledging her struggle for freedom. Her heels left tracks in the dirt, but her fists bounced off the albatross without so much as a wrinkled feather. The hawk watched with poorly disguised amusement, and Amelia slapped his arm away when his hand reached for her face. The hawk chuckled. "You're quite the feisty one, aren't you, sweetheart?" He cooed.

"Unhand me this instant!" Amelia screeched, swinging for him again, but the albatross's other hand bound her free arm behind her back with the other. She writhed and hissed, her quills flared high and hoping the hawk or the albatross will come close enough to test their sharpness personally. "Is this how you treat a lady?! Release me at once!"

"Why should I do that?" The hawk reached for her again, avoiding her snapping teeth to drag his fingertips from her temple to her jaw. They curled around her chin, and his thumb pried past her lips, forcing her jaw open. Amelia gagged at both the putrid taste and the pressure holding her tongue down, but the hawk held firm, leaning closer to peer at her face. "What a pretty little doll… The master will be pleased."

Amelia fought. She fought as hard as she could. She wrenched at her arms, kicked out with her legs, jerked her head, even clamped her jaw, but with each moment her struggles grew weaker. Her lungs starved for air that screamed down her throat with every hoarse cry, her eyes burned with tears… Her body refused to respond to her calls, and her vision swam with shadows and starlight. The world lurched, but Amelia was too dizzy to try and right it again. Too exhausted to fight the consuming blackness. "Goodnight, little doll."

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The world swam, shifted and spun, but Amelia forced herself in the only direction that held any hope: forward. Staggered were her steps, off was her balance, and the thick trees were as much a help as a hindrance. For even as they impeded her flight, they kept her upright, and Amelia knew in the foggy recesses of her mind that if she were to fall now, she was as good as caught. For she could hear the shouts of her kidnappers and the thunderous charge of their pursuit, so onward she pushed. She was lucky to escape once; they would ensure there wouldn't be a second time. Her limbs shook, she longed for rest, but she pushed off the tree trunk she clung to.

But the roots of the tree were not so kind. It caught the toe of her shoe, unbalancing her, and Amelia had not the grace and elegance to right herself and prevent her fall. She hit the ground with such force that agony seared through her chest and hip like a bolt of lightning, and her scream echoed through the dense trees. The pain sharpened her focus, the fog in her brain receding slightly, but even as she told herself to get up, move, run, her body refused to listen. Though flames engulfed her hip and chest, ice had seized the rest of her body. Amelia choked on a sob. She had been foolish. How impetuous had she been to believe she could achieve true freedom? To think she could vanish and lead her own life with no consequences, and no true knowledge of the world or the dangers it held? And now, with the pounding footsteps of her pursuers thundering against her cheek, her punishment for abandoning her sense came to deliver. Amelia closed her eyes. She didn't want to see it. She would rather dream of the endless possibilities that had once been before her than face the cruel ending the world forced upon her.

"Wha-? Dear Chaos!" Amelia's eyes snapped open, and she blinked furiously against the starburst of colors. "Lass, lass, are you alright? Can you hear me, lass?" Cool fingers pressed against her neck, gentle and firm, and her vision finally settled.

Amelia screamed.

"No! No, no, shhh! It's alright, lass, I won't hurt you!" The specter, for how could anyone with face of pure silver twisted in the most insidious smile and shrouded in darkness possibly be mortal, lifted his hands to his face… where the horrific silver mask slid off, revealing kind emerald eyes and a reassuring grin set on a soft peach muzzle. Amelia stared as his black hood was lowered, showcasing shaggy quills bluer than the ocean, and the hedgehog shrugged with a boyish smile. "See? Nothing to fear." He cooed and lightly touched her hand. "That fall sounded awful; I came to help. Where are you hurt? Can you sit up, lass?"

Before Amelia could answer, the blue hedgehog's head snapped up, his emerald eyes narrowing and ears twitching. Amelia's breath stilled as fear gripped her heart, whimpering at the unmistakable sound of her kidnappers crashing through the jungle straight towards them. The hedgehog's gaze centered back on her. "I take it those aren't your worried companions searching for you?" He drawled.

Amelia weakly shook her head, gasping when it left her pained and dizzy. "K-Kidnapped-escaped-please-," She gripped his wrist with trembling fingers, her pleas shrouded with tears in her eyes. "Please help me-,"

The blue hedgehog covered her hand with his, patting and stroking, shushing her gently. "Easy, easy, lass. They won't lay another finger on you. I won't allow it." He shifted, kneeling over her. "I'm going to lift you now, lass. I don't want you exposed while I deal with them, alright? Can you hold onto me?"

Amelia tried, but her arms shook too much to get a proper grip. "I-I can't-,"

Nimble arms gingerly slipped under her back and thighs, careful not to jostle her and cause her more pain, but Amelia still gasped. Not from pain, but the chill that soothed her pain through her dress and cloak. "Easy, lass. I have you; you're alright." Her rescuer consoled, cradling her against his chest.

"C-Cold," Amelia mumbled, though she instinctively pressed into his grip, lolling her head against his chest, and felt his chuckle against her cheek.

"Ah, you'll have to forgive me for that. I'll give you my cloak in a moment, lass." He promised. Amelia made a noise of discontent when she felt the firm ground beneath her once again, and clung to whatever part of her rescuer she could reach.

"N-No-please-," She begged, her vision once again swimming but determinedly focused on those soft green eyes. He couldn't go-He couldn't leave her here!

"Shh, easy, lass. I'm not going far, but someone needs to teach those Rogues a lesson how to properly treat a lady." Her rescuer reassured her, a broiling undercurrent of rage beneath his gentle tone. "Here," Something soft and cool tucked and curled firmly around her. "My cloak, as promised. Keep it safe for me; I'll be back for it."

"But-!" Amelia protested, but only a soft breeze responded to her. She wanted to beg him to come back, to reconsider facing her kidnappers, but fear clenched her jaw shut when she heard their voices close by. She closed her eyes and buried her face in her rescuer's cloak, letting the soft wool caress her cheeks while a cool scent tickled her nose… something she couldn't name but felt deep in her bones. Cool and refreshing like rain, but sweet and earthy like spring flowers and tree bark. It smelled like the jungle night itself, and Amelia let the soothing scent distract her from the shouts and screams echoing through the trees only a few feet away.

Amelia didn't notice when it had gone quiet. Barely realized when the hard ground disappeared from beneath her back. She nestled into the scent of the jungle, stronger now than it had been before, and felt tender vibrations against her ear just as she slipped into the dark yet again. "Rest easy now, lass. I've got you. You're safe now."

And, for whatever reason, Amelia believed him.

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Soft warmth cocooned Amelia in a gentle embrace, and she wanted to lounge in it forever… if only her servants hadn't left the blasted curtains of her bedroom window open again. With a groan, she sat up, stretching, and she blinked.

This wasn't her bedroom. It was too lavish, too… open. Evening light from the setting sun gleamed inside from the beautiful white stone balcony, garlanded with ivy and flower buds that had yet to bloom, casting light to the rest of the room. Amelia stared, stunned, at the gorgeous wood furnishings that decorated the chamber, from the gigantic wardrobe and extensive bookshelf to the magnificent vanity with the shining golden mirror, showcasing her startled face in its reflection.

The arrangement… the gorge… the ship and the storm… the island… Amelia's thoughts raced as her memory returned in full force. She was going to be ill. The kidnapping… and her-her-Her rescuer. He brought her here, he must have. But then, where exactly was here? Amelia slid off the bed and immediately glanced down to find herself dressed in a simple white lace nightdress. Her cheeks flushed. Her clothing from yesterday, where-

Knock, knock, knock. "Miss, may I enter?" A soft voice called through the heavy wooden door. Amelia's ears pricked at soft melodic tones of a woman's voice.

Amelia smoothed her nightdress and answered. "Yes."

The hinges creaked and the wood groaned, and a matron rabbit with soft brown fur and a black lace shawl over a midnight violet gown smiled at her and lowered herself into a curtsy. In her hands she carried neatly folded bundles of fabric. "Good evening, miss. I hope you rested well. I am Vanilla, caretaker of this estate. His Grace has sent me to deliver fresh garments and escort you to the dining hall for supper. I'm sure you must be famished."

As if in agreement with Miss Vanilla, Amelia's stomach gave a loud and embarrassing rumble. Miss Vanilla's warm brown eyes crinkled with amusement as Amelia blushed. "Dinner would be wonderful, thank you." She agreed.

Miss Vanilla laid the clothing on the bed and tilted her head at Amelia inquisitively. "Do you need assistance dressing, miss?"

Amelia shook her head. "No, I'll be fine. Thank you."

Miss Vanilla nodded. "Of course, miss. I shall be in the hall, then." The rabbit curtsied once again and left the chamber, gently closing the door behind her.

Amelia stared at the door for a long moment without seeing it. 'His Grace'… Had her rescuer been a member of nobility? And if so… what were the chances that he possessed connections to the Spagonian aristocracy? She swallowed a lump in her throat, her fingers fumbling as she slid the silk chemise over her head. It was not outside the realm of possibility, despite the distance between the island and Spagonia, and that could spell the end of Amelia's freedom. If His Grace, whoever he was, happened to recognize her… all it would take is one letter and a single ship, and she soon would find herself the Baron's latest conquest.

Amelia nearly ripped the dress as she yanked herself into it and forced herself to calm. She would not allow her newfound freedom to end here. She had escaped once, she could do it again. Grace and poise. She found a heavy silver comb in the vanity and made quick work of her bedhead of strawberry quills, then smoothed her hands down the velvety bodice of her gown and admired her reflection in the mirror. She'd worn dazzling dresses in the past, but the way it cascaded in rippling shimmers of rich violet highlighted the vibrant green of her eyes… and the determined set of her brow. Head held high, Amelia strode out the door and nodded for Miss Vanilla to lead the way.

Whoever the master of this castle was, it would be a cold day in Hades before Amelia would lose her freedom to him.

The walk to the dining hall was quiet yet companionable. Though the sun had set and twilight had fallen over the island, the castle's stone halls were well-lit and warmed by the multitude of scones that adorned the walls. Amelia ensured to memorize the route in her mind, in the event that she would be forced into a… tactical retreat during the night, yet Amelia caught herself more admiring the beauty of the castle as they walked on. Gleaming suits of armor stood along the walls beside shining coats of arms and beautiful artworks of faraway landscapes… the very ones Amelia had always dreamed to see in person.

Miss Vanilla pushed through a wide set of heavy wooden doors, which groaned quietly under her hands, and stood to the side. "The miss is here for supper, Your Grace." She nodded encouragingly for Amelia to enter, and after setting her shoulders, she did as directed.

Her rescuer stood at the head of a long wooden table adorned in shining red silk trimmed with gold, his impossibly blue quills shining in the gentle glow of the candlelit iron chandelier hanging above, and he nodded to Miss Vanilla. "Thank you, Vanilla. You are excused." The rabbit curtsied and closed the door behind her, and 'His Grace' smiled at Amelia, the corners of his emerald green eyes crinkling. "May I get your chair, lass?"

Amelia lowered herself into her best curtsy. "Yes, thank you, Your Grace."

Her rescuer waved his hand. "Please, no need for such formality, lass. Chaos knows I've told Miss Vanilla several times but she refuses to listen to me." He shifted her chair, an elegantly carved one stained deep mahogany with a soft cushion that matched the table dressings, and offered his hand to her.

Amelia took it and delicately lowered herself in the seat, sweeping her skirt beneath her and settling when he gently pushed it under her. She tilted her head inquisitively. "What then should I call you if not 'Your Grace', sir?" The question was innocent enough, easy to dismiss as pleasantry, but Amelia's stomach churned. She hadn't recognized his face from her past, but that meant very little. His name, however, would be invaluable.

"Sonic, if you please." Her rescuer smiled kindly at her as he sat at the head of the table beside her and tilted his head curiously. "And what name do I call my lovely house guest?"

Amelia's heart spiked. "Amy." She blurted. "My name is Amy." Inwardly, she cringed. Why did she give him her childhood nickname? It wouldn't be so difficult for him to make the leap to her true name! Although… she hadn't used it in years, and if she refrained from mentioning her second name… Amelia Rose could remain in her past. She could safeguard her freedom with one little white lie.

"Amy…" Sonic hummed, eyeing her considerately, before smiling. "It does suit you."

The tension in Amy's shoulders released. "Thank you, sir." She smiled tentatively back at him, before her nose twitched at a truly delectable scent in the air. Her mouth watered at the marvelous feasts Miss Vanilla laid on the table before them: roasted meats, steaming vegetables, and sweet-scented bread rolls. Sonic stood, carving knife in hand, and ensured a generous helping of food made its home on Amy's plate before serving himself.

Sonic gestured to Amy's silverware. "Go on, you must be famished, Miss Amy. Vanilla has served me for many years and her cooking has never disappointed." He encouraged. Amy obeyed, daintily taking a bite… until her eyes popped wide and she nearly forgot all the manners that had been beaten into her since her birth and ravenously tucked into her meal with enthusiasm. Sonic laughed, an enchanting—almost musical—sound, and dug in himself.

It was only when half their meal had been consumed did Sonic clear his throat, and Amy's stomach dropped to her feet at the solemn look in his green eyes. "Relax, Amy. I want to tell you that the Rogues that attacked you have been… taken care of." Sonic reassured her, thunderclouds in his darkened eyes. "You'll never need to worry about them again."

"Did you kill them?" Amy demanded.

Sonic studied her for a moment before slowly nodding. "I did."

Amy breathed a sigh of relief. "Good."

Sonic chuckled before his expression turned solemn once again. "The Rogues were not the only danger on the island, Amy. Do you not know how unwise it is to be out after dark?"

Amy flushed. "I was warned when I arrived, but-,"

"When you arrived?" Sonic interjected. His brow furrowed. "Just how long have you been on Mystic Ruins Isle?"

Amy glanced to the window, but the sun had long set. Stars twinkled at her from their place in a deep indigo sky. "Two days." She admitted. "My ship was blown off course in a storm, and it docked here for repairs."

"The ship from Apotos?" Sonic asked.

Amy frowned. "How did you-?"

Sonic sat back in his seat and flashed a small smile. "It is my business to know what arrives and departs on my half of the Isle." When Amy tilted her head, his smile grew, both in size and impishness. Sonic leaned over the table on his elbows, hands folded in front of him, and regarded Amy with a smirk. "I am Sonic the Hedgehog, the Count of Mystic Ruins Isle."