...look right through me....
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Her heart literally broke and she screamed, betraying Rogan but not of her own volition. Her vocals were a harpy screech as it cut through the air, viciously attacking the one she loved the most. But she could do nothing to stop it, could do nothing to stop herself. She was a marionette doll and was being played by Draven, without her own consent or desires being taken into play or consideration. And within a second of her words, her father was upon her lover, all teeth and claws and lethal intent. Perhaps if she had been raised by her parents, the scenario still would have come to pass. Were not parents, especially the father, supposed to be overly protective of their offspring anyway? But as soon as she felt the weight of Rogan pushed off of her back, she had ran a few steps away and turned back to watch, unable to tear her eyes away, and the creature who attacked Rogan was not her father in the slightest. It was not that she could claim to know Kershov, but if this demon, this devil was he, she was glad she did not know him. He nearly tore Rogan‘s throat out, and she try to scream for him to stop, but nothing came out, and her mind reminded her cruelly that this was all her doing. If only she had found a way to break Draven‘s hold on her, none of this would have come to pass. She could’ve escaped with her freedom and with Rogan, never to be tampered with again by the invasive nature of Draven‘s manipulativeness. Relief flooded her as Rogan manage to slip away and run, and that relief exponentially increased when Kershov did not chase after him. She tried to call after Rogan that she was sorry, that she did not mean any of it, that she loved him, but instead she felt words slipping past her mouth that tasted repulsive, repeating by command the words that Draven had once spoke, and a cool gaze laid upon her. It ... for she did not think that whatever Kershov was now was male not female... not hold concern nor worry for Briseis‘s well-being. He never once asked her if she was all right, instead he was focused and cold.

‘You say you know where my daughter is? Tell me everything you know. Because though I sympathize with what you’ve just gone through, I will not hesitate to torture you further should you impede my mission.’

All relief faded from her face and she paled underneath her already pallid pelt, and though she was still happy that Rogan got away, she know knew that her own fate was sealed. Slowly, she nodded, and she feigned hesitation and terror. Although the idea being tortured was not pleasant, nor desired, no one would ever be able to hurt her the way that Draven had, nor make her feel as ashamed as he had, time and time and time.

“Yes my… My Lord. She is within the pack, locked with the vampire‘s den. I have done what I can to protect her, albeit that it was not much. He has not allowed me to interfere, and when I try it does not end well for me. I can say only that I’ve managed to spare her from the worst of it by taking on that pain and violation myself. But is she lucky to be largely unharmed. For how much longer, I cannot say.”

All of it was true, every word. Draven had been very specific and telling her not to ever directly lie to Kershov, lest she be discovered because he was apparently very intuitive. And so, all of it was true… That was why she had not mentioned any names. She could use the term vampire instead of saying Draven, or Rogan even. But now it was time for the next part of the plan - saving the princess. Draven had given her no instructions here - whether or not they went to fetch Gwyneira, and how they would do so if they did go to save the princess, would be entirely up to Kershov. From here on out, Brie’s command was to win Kershov‘s trust and respect, most likely as a healer, and then eventually seduce him. And then she would report back to Draven, and only then would he let it leak exactly who Briseis was. It was a perfect plan, full of back up plans for any situation… The perfect plan to set about Kershov’s ruin. And then, only then, would Draven feel as if he had gotten his revenge.

“What now, my Lord? What are we to do?”

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