I wash the last of the blood off me. Flandre had thrown my soilded garments in the laundry, and a fresh pile awaits me on the toilet, after I am done my shower. Perhaps, however, I will just need another pair, for what I am going to do next is going to be just as messy. Ah well. It does not matter; I have another outfit.
I towl my hair dry and slip into my clothes. I walk into my bedroom and go straight toward my weapons closet. I take my favorite gun out and hold it carefully, looking at it fondly. But I can not admire its beauty; I have more important matters to attend to, matters that require its deadly purpose. I grab a pack of silver bullets from my bed-side table and load them in the gun. Then I head for the basement.
Those werewolves are going to pay. They are going to pay for a lot of things. They had trespassed upon my home, threatened my servants and me, destoryed my house's interior, and brought back horrible memories. Memories of pain and death and guilt and rage. When Severin sent those zombies to kill my blood warriors, and they did indeed die, I was devasted. I still have nightmares of the last moments. If I lost Hiro, or Riza, or even Reiri...I would not be able to take it. They are my servants, and I care for them deeply. I am charged with their protection, and protect them I will do.
I open the door, and hear the werewolves' surpise, and delight as they tell me I am foolish. That is until I shoot the gun at the closest one, and they realize what is going on. One of them cries 'silver bullets'. I say,
"That's right. And now it is time for you to die. Over and over again, until the royal blood's effects run out." Part of me is intriqued by how long they will last, but the rest is consumed with calm-concealed rage, and the want for revenge, then and now. And so I shoot them. Again and again and again.
"But no matter how many days it takes, I'm going to keep on killing you."
They do not scream. They are still warrior enough for that.
I hear running on the stairs. The steps are light and hurried, frantic. I think they are Hiro's. I am proved right when his voice, preceeded by banging on the door, reaches my ears, audible even over the shots.
"Hime. Hime, open up! I need to ask you something...Hime!" I decide to listen. His voice, his words, they will take me away from the dark place that is my memories.
"Hime...you gave me this life. And I know this life isn't just mine alone...but...But I'll serve you! No matter kind of person you are...!" Reiri must have been telling him things. Thoughts, findings she must have about the werewolf blood warriors. He wouldn't think of these on his own. Perhaps that is why I like him. He is not very strong, not the smartest, but he is loyal, can fight...and he is a friend to me. Like they were friends to me. No. Not friends. Just...more than servants.
He is still at the door. I close my eyes and block out the rest of his words. They do not matter; he has said what he needed to. I must concentrate on the werewolves. They are still alive. But not for long. I will make sure of that. I continue pumping silver into them. They will learn, and they will fear, the wrath of Hime, second princess of the Royal Family.
By morning, they are dead. I unlock the door and step out. Hiro is still there. He jumps to his feet and rushes toward me. "Hime!"
"Hmph, Hiro," I say, biting my finger. I am a bit touched, and pleased, that he waited for me. He is a good blood warrior.
"The effects of my blood must be almost gone." I hold out my hand.
"You may drink."
A.N- Okay, a few things. First, this is my first Kaibutsu Ojou fanfiction. Second, this is my very first time writing in present tense. I think it's pretty good. If you see any mistakes (at all, not just tense) please notify me. This is what I thought might be going on in Hime's head in Chapter 8: Princess Carnage. The dialogue all comes from that chapter. TTFN ;)