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She walked, her body filled with aches and pains, scratches, bruises, and blemishes. Her wings were tattered and torn; no amount of medical practice could fix those. She didn't care that her wings were torn, or that her feet ached in her shoes, or that her head pounded in the mild light of the eclipse. She cared for returning home; her wife was waiting for her, after all.
Drolta had made a promise when she left for the Eclipse Ball. She promised that she would return home. And return home she shall. It was quite the walk, however. In heels that she couldn't rest her feet in, in clothes fit for that of a tramp. But Drolta carried on. She had a promise to keep and a woman to kiss. The clothes she wore were stained in blood, some of her own, and some not. When she had finally laid eyes upon the iron gates of the manor, she was filled with relief. The realization that she very well could have died tonight had hit her. She hadn't thought of it much. Not until she saw the beautiful gates, the walkway made of stones, the pillars of marble leading up the white stone stairs to the front doors. Only then did she realize how lucky she was to be alive.
Drolta carefully pushed open the double doors to the manor, and she hastily kicked off her shoes. She was looking for her lover, the one who loved her through her hardest moments, even when she was nearly unlovable. They had been married for a millennium by now. Drolta was lucky to have her. Drolta was quick to climb the stairs up to their shared bedroom. She found her lover combing her hair in front of the vanity. Hearing the door open, she turned to look at Drolta, gasping and dropping what she was doing. She rushed over, carefully taking Drolta's face in her hands, gently turning Drolta's face over in her loving hands; inspecting any wounds or damage done to her wife's face.
"Goodness... what happened?!" Her partner murmured, leading Drolta to their shared bed and gently pushing her to sit on the mattress. The silk sheets and blankets enveloped Drolta's lower form. Drolta was nearly ashamed to show her face in this condition to her lover. She avoided her wife's eyes but leaned into her touch.
"I bit off more than I could chew, that's all..." Drolta whispered, "I'm fine. I'm just exhausted." Normally, Drolta wouldn't be so vulnerable. She has an ego to uphold; if anybody else saw her in this state, she would be ridiculed. But Drolta knows that her beloved wouldn't do that to her. They hardly even argue. Drolta knows that she wouldn't do anything like that. She's sweet, gracious, careful, she's so loving... It's funny seeing the two side by side. On one side of the picture, there's Y/N, simple and quaint, branded with the messiah's symbol the same as any other follower of Erzsébet; and beside her, Drolta, her polar opposite. But they fit one another perfectly.
"Don't lie to me, Drolta. It's beneath you." She said quietly, looking over Drolta's wounds more thoroughly. She gently sighed, kissing Drolta's damaged face as her hands lightly fell from Drolta's face to the vampire's shoulders, "Wait here... I'll get some gauze and medicine." She stepped away from Drolta, retreating to their shared bathroom to collect some of the materials she would need to treat Drolta's wounds. Drolta waits on the bed, carefully rubbing the silk sheets in her thumb, waiting for her significant others' return. When her wife returned to the room, she had their hands full, a few rolls of gauze, and some medicinal mixture similar in works to modern-day peroxide. She set the materials on the bedside table, pulling up a stool; to which she carefully cleaned Drolta's wounds, wrapping the cleaned cuts in medical gauze all the while humming an old tune Drolta felt at ease in her lovers' presence. It was hard not to. Drolta allowed her wounds to be handled with no real questioning. Drolta was happy, despite what she had gone through barely an hour and a half ago. Drolta thought about it, the situation in front of them, Drolta had put both of their lives in danger. Alucard knows she's alive. He knows. Drolta can't show her face near Erzsébet without fear of being killed, but she doesn't want to be cramped in the manor. If Y/N was seen with her outside of the manor, they would both be killed. The more Drolta thought on the topic, the more her rugged expression grew.
"What's on your mind, Drolta?" The woman said in a whisper, wrapping the bigger of Drolta's wounds and scrapes,
"Hm... nothing - I'm just worried." Drolta admitted, "Alucard, he intercepted me while I pursued that Belmont boy. I'm worried he'll come for you too. I care for you, I don't want him to hurt you." She mumbled in a soft voice. Her expression still showed that of distaste and thought.
"I can handle myself just fine. As can you. We'll be alright." She said quietly in return, finishing up the patches of bandages on Drolta's harsh wounds. When she was finished wrapping Drolta's wounds, she stood from her seat, kissing her lover's forehead carefully, "Now lie down, get some rest. I'll handle dinner,"
Drolta, at first, didn't like the idea of rest. She felt a little pitiful... but that can't be helped. She carefully sunk into the silk covers, her lover pulled the soft blanket over her damaged body and tucked her in gently. Drolta felt safe and loved, something that was uncommon for the ebony woman; but regardless, she soon settled into the silk covers, taking a moment to relax for the first time in possibly thousands of years. She's an important figure, after all, she has an important job. Or rather, she had an important job, and much to her dismay, she couldn't be seen around Erzsébet anymore. That was the condition offered to her for her life. She would be allowed to live if she swore to give up her devotion to Báthory. Reluctantly, she had no choice but to do so, for her sake and her wife's. Although Drolta's ego made her believe she could easily take on that Tepes boy, her brain and heart are just a bit smarter than that. She knows for certain she couldn't take him on. Drolta turned over in bed, laying on her side rather than her back; her mind was racked with more stress and thought than she'd experienced in a millennium. If Alucard didn't kill her sure Erzsébet would. After decades of devotion, suddenly revoking that out of fear is surely frowned upon in some kind of way. "Letting emotions get in the way of your work," she imagined her Mistress saying, in that tone of underlying disappointment she always seemed to have, "not only is it preposterous, but downright blasphemy." Even in Drolta's mind, she knew she would be in for an earful. Maybe even more. Erzsébet isn't an easy woman, Drolta would know that, of course, she knew. She knew that no matter what path she chose regarding this split in the road, either choice would eventually lead to her demise. Drolta's thoughts were interrupted as her wife carefully opened their bedroom door. She held a tray with Drolta's food on it, a bowl of soup accompanied by toast, milk, and some banana bread she had baked earlier that day. She sat at the end of the bed with a soft little smile... the same smile she gives Drolta every time, the same smile Drolta could never get sick of. Drolta sat up in bed, and her wife carefully passed on the tray.
"If you need anything else, let me know, dear. I don't want you getting out of bed unless you absolutely have to." The siren said in that gentle reprimanding voice. She's never too much of a pushover, but Drolta could fully understand her worry. She didn't fight it, mainly because she knew she wouldn't stand a chance against her wife either; not because she was inherently stronger, but because Drolta simply doesn't have the will to fight with her.
"Yes, yes, I understand." Drolta replied in that smooth voice of hers, but that simple response made her lover smile, and that's all she really wanted to see. "If it's not too much to ask... can you hum me that tune again?" The Siren obliged to her wife's wishes of course, she's a people pleaser at heart... she had slid closer to Drolta on the bed, close enough to hold the vampire's hand; and she continued that soft tune she was humming. The same one she had sung all those years ago, the same song she sang for Drolta at the docks that night, the same song that won the vampire's heart over.
That simple tune,
a silly,
simple tune...
but it was the most important thing the vampire could hear.