Simon was frozen. The taller being tilted it's head in curiosity. He took a step closer, gliding further into the light, as the human took a step back. His body touched the locked door, causing waves of cold dread to wash over him as he realized that he was helplessly and hopelessly cornered.

The man's mind worked feverishly for a solution. A way out of this death trap! Some might have suggested beseeching whatever deity Simon believed in. The priests always rambled on about how the faithful would be saved. But, that wasn't an option here; not when Simon had first hand experience that prayer wouldn't work against these demons. And they especially wouldn't work when the reaper came to collect what was his.

Mother! Maria! Please wake up! Oh, God, please! Please let them wake up! I'll do anything! Anything!

Simon winced and grit his teeth as he tried to force the memories he had purposefully repressed back down into the Hellish pit of his subconscious where they belonged. No! He wouldn't be a victim! Not this time!

Focus, Simon!

The screams. The blood. The sharp smile in the moonlight-

AUGH! Focus, damn you! If you can't get a hold of your own mind, then you might as well just undo your collar and offer your neck up to this monster, yourself!

Having shaken the panic, Simon raced through his limited list of options. Prayer wouldn't work. Trying to out speed this creature wouldn't work, either. He doubted his fingers would even brush the deadbolt, before he was incapacitated. So, fleeing wasn't an option. That left only two options; surrender or fight his way out. And Simon would be damned if he didn't at least put up a struggle. He wasn't going to just lay down and take it. Not this time!

He reached up and slid out one of the long, jeweled pins that adorned his hat, the metal of which shimmered in the light. A menacing sight to any vampire. As clear a warning as the bright colors a hornet proudly wore. For this pin's body was made of sterling silver. He swung it down, fiercely swiping, before holding it out in front of him, as if he was a knight holding a glimmering sword to keep a ferocious dragon at bay.

Blue eyes locked onto green. The ethereal being rose a slender eyebrow, before stepping even closer. He lifted a lithe hand and reached for him. Simon steeled himself as best he could. This was it! This was where he showed what kind of man he was! This was- That's when the pale man plucked the pin from his hands, as if he was taking something hazardous from the grasp of a child. Simon's jaw dropped. This was how he perished!

Silver! That monster was touching silver! But, he wasn't burning up?! Was he impervious to all harm?! They said that Satan was fair to look upon. Was this the devil himself?! Instead of choking out his final breath, cursing the human who had vanquished him, the man turned the accessory end over end, looking it over closely.

"My stars, what a beautiful pin. Did you make it yourself?"

At first, the tailor was at a loss for words. He had been so sure of his own death that the creature speaking to him as if he was nothing more than a casual acquaintance he saw everyday on the street felt more like a hallucination than anything else. Wait, perhaps that's all the vampire really was? A stint of insanity brought on by working too hard? Yes, that had to be it. After all, if this had been a real vampire, with how much stronger, faster and feral they were compared to humans, he would already be dead!

"I.. drew up blueprints for it. But, the credit for my pins should really be given to the blacksmith a street over. My specialty lies in fabric, more than metal," he said, gesturing to the showroom chocked full of beautiful outfits.

The hat pin was spun around and held out for him to safety take. Simon reluctantly took it, still feeling a bit dazed by the whole experience. He tucked it back into place as the other man stole away into the room dedicated to fabric works of art.

"Yes, so I see. I spied a few pieces from the window that I would love to try on, if that's alright with you."

An illusion was asking to try on clothes and possibly, get alternations for them? Now Simon could truly say that he had seen it all. But, he shrugged, regardless. He had played along with this so far. So, why not entertain the madness? See where it took him?

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"Yes, of course, Mr.-"

"Ah, no need for formalities," the man said as he turned from the racks and presented a warm smile, "Please, just call me Alabaster."

My God, that body.

The dimly lit entry way hadn't done it justice. If he thought he was looking at a masterpiece before, how much more so did he feel that way, now that it was cast in the right light? Fear faded. Disbelief faded. Simon Hart, a very practical man who never allowed himself flights of fancy, found that madness could have opened its grizzly maw and swallowed him whole if he could have, but one desire met.

"I know that this is forward of me. But, may I make a request, Alabaster?"

"A request? How curious. Very well, let's hear it."

"I.. I would like the make an outfit custom for your form."

At the look the other man gave him, Simon stammered out a pathetic excuse.

"My usual clientele are much shorter than you are. Anything you find on the rack would be an awkward fit."

He should have stopped there. But, the passionate artist in him demanded that he release the feelings he had kept captive for so long now, tangled in the chains of his logic!

"And these colors? All wrong! You would need something softer to do you justice."

Oh, how Simon regretted it. How on Earth had he lost control of his tongue like that?! His cheeks burned with embarrassment. But, it seemed to have amused the ethereal being. Charmed him, even, if that sparkle in his eyes and the soft trickle laughter that was as crisp as wind chimes in Spring was anything to go by.

"I see. How can I possibly refuse? No one's ever fretted over the injustice that colors or fabrics have done to me in the past. Perhaps you are the hero that I never knew I needed."

That's when Alabaster asked for him to show the way and before Simon knew it, they were in his studio. All of the windows' shades were drawn, shutting them into their own, little world.

"I need to take your measurements. Could you kindly stand here with your arms and legs apart?"

"Of course."

Simon unfurled his measuring tape, yellowed with age, before he started from the top. It didn't take long for him to fall into his usual pattern, fixated on the numbers that would allow him to create the very best fit. Six foot two in height. No wonder he had to look up when addressing this being. Neck? Slender. Shoulders? He would call them broad on a human, but they were perfectly proportioned on the slender, yet solid body.

But, slender did not mean flat in this case. No, not here. Shoulders and chest cinched in at the waist, giving Alabaster's hips a pleasant slope that his hands and tape glided across with reverence. But, it was when it was time for him to measure the inseam that he hit his knees. It was an appropriate position, considering how the next part of the vampire's anatomy was enough to garner worship.

L-Large.

"What did you say your name was?"

"Huh?!" he yelped, fumbling for his mask of eloquence and good breeding, "I mean, yes?"

"Your name. You have mine. Now, I would very much like to have yours, dear tailor."

It was an awkward time to be asked what his name was, considering how he was practically kneeling before the other man. But, since he had started this whole thing, he figured that he owed Alabaster at least this much. Besides, this being was just a figment of his imagination, right? Some strange fever dream that he had wandered into at the end of a long, tiresome night. In fact, he would bet that he had fallen asleep at his darning table again; so what was the harm in it?

"My name is Simon. Simon Hart."

"Ah, Simon. That has a nice sound to it."

The tailor blinked in surprise, before the two of them shared a smile. Something was happening here. Something that the man who had never known attraction had never experienced before. Something about Alabaster was special. No, not just his body or his looks. There was something in his eyes that reminded him of the outfits he created; every single one of them told a story. Those eyes did, as well. It made him long to know the secrets they held. Those beautiful, sapphire-blue eyes.

But, of course, he would wake up and this mysterious man would disappear into the ether. He had to remind himself of that time and time again. This was just for this moment. When he arose from whenever he had dropped, everything would be back to normal. In fact, this peculiar dream had gone on for quite some time. It was probably almost over. So, why not say what was really on his mind, without holding anything back for once?

"Alabaster, can I see you again?"

The taller man blinked in surprise, before giving him a charming smile that could almost melt all of the ice around his heart.

"What a question. Of course, you can. You will be the man making my suits while I am in Lenore, yes?"

"Wait.. While you are in Lenore?"

"Yes. I won't be staying here long, but I do believe that it's in the best interest of peace to fit in with the local culture. Do you not agree, Simon?"

Suddenly, the bit of news still sitting all crumpled up in his trashcan came rushing back to him, hitting him with the force of a slap on the face.

King Bennett to receive members of the Stone Royal Family to discuss peace negotiations.

The tailor rose to his feet in lightning speed.

"Wait. Would you happen to be one of the members of the royal, vampire family visiting his highness, King Bennett the third?"

"Why, yes, I am. Did I not tell you that from the very beginning? Where are my manners? I am Alabaster Stone."

"Yes, he is."

And that's when Simon Hart felt a knife pressed to his throat by a very menacing presence from behind. A very sharp knife. This wasn't an illusion. This wasn't a dream. This was a nightmare. A very real nightmare; a nightmare called reality.