Author: Blonde Cecile
Characters: Helga, Rhonda (as seventeen year-olds)
Rating: Mature / R for some violence and a dash of heated femslash
Length: One-shot; 1,079 words
Warnings: As with all my works, this holds the possibility of character death.
Disclaimer: You know the drill. Hey Arnold is Craig Bartlett's and not mine.
Summary: They say power corrupts, but does power have a worse effect on those already corrupted?
A/N: This is an Alternate Universe fic, taking place in 18th century England. It contains supernaturalism and femslash. It was initially intended to be taken seriously, but if you view it as crack, I'll completely understand. :)
by Blonde Cecile
At the edge of a town, a great mansion stood tall
With ivy and shadows that stretched up its walls;
Such beauty sustained, not even the night could hide it,
Therein dwelled Patakis and the riches they thrived in.
A blonde approached, then, and shut the gate behind her,
And peered back through the dark, whence shivers did find her;
She scurried indoors and told the maid of her fright,
"Something's out there, I say. Let no one in tonight."
'Twas later that evening, as her parents had slept
That the girl heard a tapping from her bedchamber desk;
"Why do you disrupt me? And this late at night?"
"Pardon, Miss Helga," the maid said, polite.
"But you have a visitor you'd best not avoid."
Then the maid whispered, "It is Miss Rhonda Lloyd."
"Rhonda? Why so? And this late at night?"
She then exchanged quill for a candle's spare light.
"I don't know, milady, but she's out in the cold.
You said 'Let no one in', so I did as was told."
Stumped and suspicious, Helga made past the maid.
Candle in hand, she descended the stairway.
The door was swung open and Rhonda revealed,
In her red-draped attire, breasts barely concealed;
She narrowed her eyes, and put her hands on her hips;
"Well? Aren't you going to invite me in?"
Helga might've liked to see Rhonda freeze
But common sense warned her of killers and thieves;
She felt her spine tingle unkindly again
Then stepped to the side and muttered, "Come in."
Rhonda strode in and the cold was shut out;
She smiled - in a strangely good mood, no doubt.
Helga sneered and demanded "Well? Why have you come?"
"I'm thirsty," Rhonda said, "Do you have any rum?"
"Rum?" Helga echoed, "You came here for that?
Surely your mansion has a sizable stash?
What an idiot you are to risk your own life
For merely a drink, with which your own home is rife."
"Oh, please," Rhonda mocked, "don't tell me you believe
Those silly little myths about city-dwelling beasts?"
"Of course not," Helga said, rearranging her sleeve,
"But you're a fool if you think there aren't killers and thieves.
"Just because we're well-off doesn't mean we're well-liked
Assassins and vagrants run amok on such nights.
So what is it, then? Why're you here, Lloyd?
Real friends finally chuck you when they got too annoyed?"
"You know what I think?" Rhonda said with a smirk,
Her nose in the air as she relished each word;
"I think your scared. Afraid to get caught.
What'll mum and dad say if they catch you quite sloshed?"
"I am not afraid!" Helga said a bit loudly,
Then lowered her voice and spoke more soundly,
"And as for my parents, they wouldn't so much as tut.
But they shan't ever know, as you'll keep your mouth shut!"
So shielding her candle, she guided the way
Down into the cellar, gloomy and dank;
The cold stone walls seemed to soak up the light
And resonate their footsteps: terse, aural bites.
Deep under the mansion, the passages steeped,
Until finally, a long, narrow chamber they reached;
The walls were lined with stacked rows of wines
And rums and such liquors; Rhonda praised, "How divine!"
Helga lit a small lantern at the opposite end
Whilst Rhonda uncorked a drink of dark red;
Before Helga even could demand any answers,
She was handed a bottle as Rhonda chimed, "Cheers!"
Half a bottle later, her suspicions subdued;
Her curiosity, however, still strongly pursued.
But when Helga re-asked why the hell she had come,
Rhonda just snorted and reached for more rum.
"I'm still thirsty," Rhonda whined and knocked some more back.
"Maybe you should drink more water, you brat."
Helga watched as Rhonda simply kept on drinking,
Secretly appalled by the thoughts she was thinking.
Rhonda's throat moved smooth as the liquid went down.
Helga shivered again and looked around with a frown;
We're safe here, she told herself, don't be such a fool.
"Does your presence have to do with why you weren't at school?"
Rhonda paused at those words, then stared Helga through.
"What makes you so sure I'm not just here for you?"
Helga furrowed her brow and felt abnormally shy,
"There is more to you, Helga, than meets the eye."
It struck Helga, then, how pale Rhonda was,
Her skin was so white, her lips redder because.
"The power you have isn't just in your name.
I can smell it, Helga; it runs in your veins."
Rhonda's face was now merely inches from hers,
Helga backed lest she smell breath thickened by liquor,
But Rhonda continued to move all too nigh
Till she pressed against Helga, breast to thigh.
"What's become of you, Rhonda?" Helga shrilled in dismay
And attempted, quite roughly, to push her away.
"Are you mad? Corrupted? Possessed or forsaken?"
"Not at all," Rhonda answered, "I've just finally awakened."
Then she smiled a smile more sweet than most wines;
Helga gasped upon sighting such long, sharp canines.
Rhonda neared Helga's neck, hot breath against skin.
"Still thirsty," Rhonda murmured, and sank her teeth in.
Sensation exploded, slashed past all defenses,
Rushing and crashing, raiding all Helga's senses.
She tried to cry out but her voice fell astray,
Lost to stone walls and the rival of day.
Like thick, heavy drapes, darkness sagged in the air;
Helga let her eyes shut as hands raked through her hair.
Thoughts went crumbling; the candle slipped from her clutch
And she grasped Rhonda's arms just to keep herself up.
Rhonda kept a firm grip as she lifted her head,
Her mouth wet with red, she smiled and said:
"Hang in there, Helga, we aren't finished yet."
Then pulled Helga's face to the crook of her neck.
Rhonda's laugh filled the cellar as Helga bit down
And blood, strangely cool, slowly flooded her mouth.
When the maid happened on them, she fled with a scream
While Rhonda kept laughing and life became a dream -
A dream, indeed, from which Helga had awakened,
Neither mad, corrupted, possessed or forsaken.
There was a thirst deep inside and it wasn't for water;
And by the time the Patakis came to look for their daughter
There was naught to be found, so late in the night
But spilt wax and rum and a lantern's spare light;
And so it was, to them, some sad act of sinning.
Little did they know, it was just the beginning.
. t h e . e n d .
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