Lady Chrysanthemum's Story

Catherine frowned in annoyance as the woman continued to make herself at home on the large cherry desk in her office. "Wisdom doesn't always come with age, you of all people should know that I thought." She remarked acerbically. Catherine hoped that she could come to a decision, and hoped that whatever it was wouldn't mean plunging the entire Unseen world into war. "I'm sure they'll be just as eloquent as you Lady Chrysanthemum, but I suspect a decision will be made sooner or later."

At least it wasn't a threat, yet. Though she suspected that it may come to that sooner or later. While Chrys was right, she did want to be spare the heartbreak of Brandon's death, turning was also an equally uncomfortable and distressing prospect. There didn't seem to be any good options that presented themselves, yet; and until it they did, Catherine would have to continue to stall and find ways of aversion.

Once Chrys had left the office, Catherine sank down into the well worn leather chair behind the desk. "Too much." She muttered before deciding to call it a night and go home.

Chrys approached Brandon's studio. It was dark, but her sources had assured her he was there. No matter. She knocked, soft but firm, upon the door. She waited patiently, and while she did she used the window to briefly examine herself. She didn't know what it was, but there was something about visiting those who may be near death's door that made her straighten herself up, clean up her act, and make sure she looked good. She tucked a strand of hair floating in her face behind her ear. She straightened her shirt. Perhaps it was that she might be seeing them again soon. The was something about first impressions with someone you may be seeing for the rest of eternity....it made you not want to screw up. She checked herself in the window one last time and then waited for the door to open.

Brandon opened the door after a few minutes, dressed in pajama pants and a dressing gown, clearly having woken up from a nap. He got tired easily lately. It was better to sleep more, he thought, to heal. To maybe heal. He hopes. He looked to Chrys, brow furrowed and covered his mouth as he yawned, blocking the door so she couldn't actually come in. Who was this? He didn't recognize her.

"I'm sorry, but Visual Eyes is closed right now, miss. If you're wanting a commission, you can come back this weekend, or send me an e-mail." Periodically, persistent customers would come up the back, like this one. Brandon made a point of not accepting that particular commission, no matter how much they offered. Anyone who cam to his house for this was not a customer h particularly wanted to deal with ever. They were the worst, and tended to try and get out of paying.

"Oh, I'm not interested in a commision." Chrys smiled, "I'm here to see you. Your aunt was supposed to tell you I was coming, but I'm sure she's been busy. May I come in?" she politely inquired.

The man wasn't doing well. That much was clear. BUt his spirit still burned strong and bright. There was hope. The only question is if he would take either of her offers.

Unseen business. From the couch, his familiar rose and padded closer, pressing against Brandon's legs, ready to act just in case. Given how ill he was, he had special dispensation to have the capybara skeleton with him. To everyone but another necromancer however, the skeleton looked significantly more like a bulldog mixed breed than a skeleton at all. "My aunt is often busy. May I ask what this is about? I'm afraid I'm rather ill, and need my rest."

He didn't tend to invite people in, especially with no notice. This particular women, now that he was looking, felt like a vampire to his senses. Good. She couldn't get in without an invitation at least.

Chrys sighed, "Look, can we cut the crap? I know Ra visited you two. I am here to help. Unlike Ra, I've no intention of threatening your life. It's not in my interests. And I'm sure there are interested parties watching us right now. They will already have taken note of my meeting you. I've no intention of letting them know what I actually intend to discuss. If it makes you feel any safer, I am from the Court of the White Rose and I am the Prince, so I'd dearly hope that at least I have enough self-control to not threaten you, unlike some Princes I know."

She was mildly exasperated, but not annoyed yet. This was usual amongst those who were in trouble. Paranoid to the extreme.

What, all the princes? They were all threatening assholes. It came with politics. Brandon had been threatened to be killed regularly since he was ten. He was still alive. The man raised an eyebrow.and sighed. "It's hardly the first time I've spoken to Ra, or that he's threatened to kill me. His son mentored me for some time. The man threatens to kill his own son. I'm pretty sure it's a sign of affection."

He smiled to her quietly, to take the sting out of his words. "But go ahead and make your offer. I'm not fond of dying." Very much was not fond of dying. He had been undead once. It was a bit much to expect anyone to deal with a second time, and this time, he'd be rather permanently dead. He would at least listen to the offer, though he still wasn't going to invite her inside.

She made a small "hm" sound under her breath. "Alright then. I've several offers. Which one you take depends on what you would prefer to do with what is left of your life."

"If you would like to die of natural causes, I will provide what protection as is available, keep the other courts off of your back until you pass. I won't harass you, you will live the rest of your life unsolicited.

"If you wish to fight this infection, I can provide monetary funding, no strings attached. The Courts are famously rich, and I am quite wealthy of my own accord, so assisting you to find the best treatment would be a simple matter. Once you recover, you will be your own man. I am not a woman to create debts that must be paid. Especially when the alternate choice is death.

"Finally, if you wish to turn, I can offer what is, in my humble opinion, the best turning. We do not prey upon others and our sustenance is the least harmful to others. You will be your own man, beholden to no one, though if you wish I would offer you a position within my court. I need people I can trust to help me.

"I would expound on the offers further to let you know what I can offer, but I while ears may be listening, I cannot elaborate. You are, of course, free to turn down any of these. I am well aware of your perceptions of the other Princes and their courts, but try to set those assumptions aside. After all," she smiled and gestured to herself, "I am the first female prince. Not all of your stereotypes will apply to me."

"These are all very kind offers." Brandon began, ignoring the unsolicited nature of the offers. "And I'll be sure to think on them." He was definitely going to think on them. "And I will certainly speak with my aunt and family on them." One hundred percent. They'd likely get an earful and his poor cousin would have to hear him bitching and moaning about the entire thing. After he took a nap.

"And I find from experience that you no doubt know of, that vampires, regardless of what they feed on, or their gender, all tend to prefer moves that give them power. You'll understand if I am cautious." Besides, it's not like he'd hold her gender against her. if she were a male perhaps, but despite his sexuality, men still made him very nervous, especially men in power. It was something he would always be suspicious of. Still, the offers were very nice.

"And the council has made their opinion of me ever turning very clear. I'm afraid, despite the pull of your title, or any court's title, or even all four together, they're not likely to let a mad man be turned." and it was let, given that he reported, to this day, to a probation officer, once a week.

"hmm, yes, I suppose I am a vampire currently aren't I?" she mused aloud. "That certainly would complicate things. Well, I shall leave you to your rest. Mull over it while you sleep. When you reach your decision, you can contact me at the cafe down the road from MCU. If I'm not there, just ask about me over the counter. I'll be there in a jiffy." She reached a hand out as if to touch him, but decided against it. "Hey, Brandon..." she hesitated slightly, "...take care ok? There's a lot of people after you. I'd hate to see you irreversibly injured."

He smiled, though he leaned back from her outreached hand, not wanting this strange woman to touch him. "There's even more now that the secrets out. Relax, worse comes to worse, I go see my grandmother in the fae realm. We don't see each other often. It'd delight her." Maybe. It was hard to tell, given he wasn't technically her grandson, so much as her adopted ward's ward. Brandon didn't think about these things. "Sleep well when you go."

With that, he stepped inside and closed the door in front of her, only to go to his phone, rather than his bed. Aunt Catherine was sure to not be impressed with his late visitor. He may have to ask her about the possibility of retreating to the fae realm after all. It wouldn't be ideal, given he was in the middle of treatment, but it may be necessary.

Chrys left quickly, getting in her car and heading towards the court. Of course, he'd had no clue what she meant. She cursed her fondness for those who were doomed. It was just...easier...to not be an ass and actually care if someone was having a truly rough time of it.

Plus she was concerned. Catherine and her nephew were two beings she'd kept her eyes on for a long time. Given their past deeds, and lack of religious beliefs, it was unlikely they'd get into the upper realms upon their passing. Of course, that was their own choice to make when the time came, but just because you made the wrong choice once didn't mean you should be punished forever. She had watch Catherine due to her fantastic abilities as a leader. She could be a good lieutenant back in her own realm. Brandon... he had no particular merits that interested her. She just felt that it was unfair what had happened to him and wanted to help him any way she could. However, she needed to earn their trust.

But that had to wait until later. Right now, ripples were going to be made.

Within the Court of the White Rose

Lady Chrysanthemum flung open the doors to the mansion that they had long called a Court, homage to old ways that clung to the aged bastards within that knew not how to move on from the past. That suited her fine, except for their mental processes still lurked there, unable to accept the new. The council had voted her as Prince to be sure, but they had been swiftly frustrated to find that she could not be so easily manipulated. She was not some soft princess that could be wed and bed for political power. And the court did not know who it truly was whom they had appointed as Prince. And they never would. All they knew was frustration that their new plaything did not simply bend to their will, did not simply accept their attempts to undermine her and make decisions themselves. Her rise to power should have warned them.

Ignoring greetings and bows from subordinates, she stalked through the mansion, a truly elaborate affair that, while, pretty, served no functional use except for the council to suck themselves off each day with knowledge of how wonderful they were and how fantastic they were at manipulating others. For many decades, the Prince of the White Rose had been a figurehead. A puppet ruler for the council to shove it's hand into and bend to their will, and so the Rose had wilted turning from White to Black as the Council squandered money on useless things and passed ruling at their leisure. They had no desire to rise and be something greater.

And how apparent this was! They and their underlings loved to grovel and moan. For what was groveling except for a loss of dignity? Dignity was a thing they had never had in the first place, and so they groveled, begged, and took what was given to them in order to remain safe and prosperous. No matter what their actual power in the grand scheme of things was. They had their puppet court and that was all that they needed.

Today that changed. Chrysanthemum had been gathering power to her side, using her sense and charm to win over the various servants at the house. The council had noticed this of course, and had started to work behind her back. They passed rulings that made no sense and turned allies into enemies while attempting to woo enemies to become allies. But they had finally forced the issue by telling the Dragon Court of the existence of the two neutral parties before they had told her. And so she had prepared, making phone calls to her most enthusiastic supporters and have the network she was building slowly gather information. That would take a part in today.

For it was day. The council preferred to meet during daylight hours, the better to spend the night cruising through town in fancy cars and taking victims that had been prepared for them, frequently helpless girls who had made the mistake of being out a little too late. Wrong place, wrong time. However there was another secret that was hidden by meeting at day, being locked away in a dark room from dawn until dusk...

Chrys kicked open the door to the council room, by far the most ornate room in the house. Of the five members of the council, four were seated. Chrys frowned internally, there should have been five there... but the final member was missing from his place at the head of the table. She forced herself to move on with her plan. Most of the council was here now.

For their part, the council looked started. Isak, at the back left of the room, stood from his chair. Originally from Russia, Isak had left at the rise of the Soviet Union and joined the White Rose. Ironically, his vice of choice was alcohol. Vampires do not get drunk from normal levels of alcohol. In fact, it is nigh impossible for them to get drunk in the first place due to their resilience. But they could still process it, and the effects were interesting to say the least. Isak stood at the opening of the door, "What is this intrusion!" he said angrily.

Rheinallt, a welshman, was closest to the door. "Why, it's our good Lady Chrysanthemum! Whatever is the matter darling?" Upon Chrys' adoption to the Court, Rheinallt had tried to step in as a father figure, thinking that a young fragile thing like her would need someone to turn to and trust. She had played along, that is, until he attempted to feed off of her. She had immediately floored him and made it clear to him that she wasn't food. He had claimed he couldn't help it and honestly, she believed it. If vampires could get fat from energy, Rheinallt would be obese. Going so far as to have a number of young women on life support within his own mansion, he would have them delivered to him, drugged and unconscious, on an hourly basis. He would feed until they were on death's door, then send them back to be tube fed until they were ready to be fed from again. From the look of the crumpled form on the floor, he had recently finished feeding.

The other two, Sigmund and Hiram, were born American and both white as a sheet. Both had immediately tried to lay with Chrys as soon as she joined. Of course she had refused but they had continued to insist until the day she was put in her place as Prince. This was an indicator of what they spent most of their time doing. They, like Rhienallt, frequently had women brought into the council room. It was actually absolutely disgusting. They always had a woman or two hanging off of them and once, when Chrys has attended a council, she could hear slurping from under the table. Of all the members, these two offended her the most. Neither seemed to notice her rather forceful entry, being more concerned with groping the woman they had with them.

Chrys looked around at all of them and sighed. "You know," she said, "I had a great speech planned. It involved sins and what you had done to destroy this court. But frankly, I'm impatient and I hate standing on ceremony." She raised her hand and a small explosion blew open the roof, letting the midday sun shine straight into the room. Chrys was immune, thanks to her maintenance of her day-walking abilities. None of the council bothered practicing this and were immediately blinded and weakened. They were too old to be straight up killed this way, but it hurt and burned them, some more literally than others. Isak had, as per his usual, been drinking ungodly amounts of vodka. Upon exposure to the sun and heat, he began to burn rapidly, the alcohol in his blood catching flame and by extension, setting him alight. Rheitallt, distracted by the sunlight and the macabre death of his fellow, didn't see Chrys take a large hunter's knife out from under her jacket. The first cut severed halfway, the second removed his head. When she turned around, Sigmund and Hiram were both dead, twin stakes protruding from their hearts, courtesy of the girls Chrys had paid in advance. A vampire faithful to Chrys entered carrying three more stakes. Chrys placed Rheinallt's head over his heart and stabbed through both. She walked over to the still-burning Isak and, seeing as he was still somewhat distracted, kicked him in the face to send him to the ground before impaling his heart as well, stopping his wild flailing. Chrys wiped her hands clean on the ornate rug under the table.

That accounted for all but one of the council. If he were smart he would stay away. However, Chrys knew better. They would be out for revenge and soon. But she had a court to run and really couldn't give much of a damn. They couldn't cause that much trouble. What concerned her was that she had yet to find her target. She still hadn't found the one she had originally given up her powers in order to kill.

Chrys sat in her usual cafe the day after the debacle. She had sent a loud and clear message to all the other courts. She was no longer a puppet. She was a Prince and would be respected like one. Now she simply waited for them to arrive. She had routed all the supporters of the old council. Some would still be in hiding, but the failed assassination attempts should route those out. Now it was time to wait for the the other councils to come to her.

She was under no illusion of what these meetings would be. Tense and mostly uneventful. Packs of wolves circling each other, and by showing or not showing, each court would send their message of what they thought. Some would ignore her, disdaining to speak with a "low" court. Some would bribe or blackmail her, trying to bring her under control while she was flush with her victory over the council. Finally, the most unlikely option, they would treat her as an equal. Those would be the most dangerous, proving that they knew her capabilities. They would be her most powerful enemies, or strong allies.

She sipped her coffee, sitting in the sunshine that lit through the window. The other half of the table was shaded by a blind over the window, offering any ambassadors a double comfort. Both anonymity from eyes outside, and shelter from the sun for those who did not wish to reveal their identity. "And now," she said under her breath, "We wait."

Brandon had considered all of the options, and her wording on each of them. The man had considered it all very carefully, in addition to his current plants. Still, he bit his bottom lip as he eyed the cafe she had specified. There wasn't really much of an option. The other courts would have offers similar to Ra's. He could die, or he could be turned. But he had no desire to ever be a vampire again. Instead, he had decided he needed a bit more detail from this new prince. Pace steady, he approached the cafe and spotted Chrys easily. The man quietly took a seat at her table.

"Lady Chrysanthemum." He greeted quietly. "I believe that we need to speak about your offer." This was going to be tricky he could tell. The man had an idea of what he was going to do or how the other would handle it. Just in case, Babbit in bulldog appearance was there, waiting to be helpful. And in the meantime, it just looked like he was a man out with his dog. That wasn't such a bad thing, he hoped.

Chrys smiled. "Well hello!" Now this she had not expected. Her first visitor not being a member of any court, but instead being Brandon himself.She knew their wasn't too much of a choice. Everyone else was trying to screw him over. However, she hadn't expected him to reach his decision quite this soon. Though by his wording, he likely hadn't decided yet.

She leaned back in her chair. "I'm glad that you at the very least, considered it. What would you like to discuss?"

"The first offer you made, letting me die by natural means." He said quietly. "Would it hold, even if the cancer went into remission again?" The surgery was scheduled. It would be fine. They'd be removed part of this skull and doing a limb salvage surgery in one of his legs, where it had spread. He hadn't mentioned the extent of the surgery to his family, and didn't plan on it until the day of. He smiled at her. "I'd rather not be turned regardless, and don't need assistance paying for my treatment." Given its highly experimental nature right now, it was fully paid for, and he actually received a small stipend for taking part.

Chrys nodded. "Indeed, should your cancer go into remission, I would continue to guard you. The only thing that would change is how often you saw me, as I would visit to ensure the guard was being kept up and to discuss any safety concerns with you." She sipped her coffee, "I understand not wanting to be turned. I believe that if very many knew your full story, most would want to know how you did it. I didn't really expect you to want to turn again."

"I did. My body didn't decay, I hadn't been a vampire long enough. It was given to scientists to experiment with. I came back." He shrugged. "There was a mass break out, of the facility I was in. I took advantage of the situation and came home." Well, sort of. At the time, no one realized that Parson Lessard was the very long lost Brandon Hammerstein. That had been one hell of a thing to find out. He sure hadn't been expecting it, and recalled several months of disbelief.

"...I don't want to be a vampire again. That or death are the only other options I have." Or this. Only this...he hadn't spoken to his family yet, but his choice, his only real choice was clear. A live, under their protection, it seemed, and he was sure strings would be attached to that, but at least he could still be an artist, once he was better.

"Alright," Chrys sat up, "You have made your choice then? Will you accept my protection and that of the White Rose Court?" This was good. So long as he was officially under her protection, he was safe from the other courts. And the rest of today's meetings would show who was a threat and who would accept this turn of events.