A Royal Pain

[greenportal]

Title: A Royal Pain

Fandom: Original Universe

Characters: OC Anya (Vampire), OC Gwen (Werewolf), OC Laurie (Human)

Word Count: 4,905

Summary: Anya and Laurie throw a birthday party for their mutual girlfriend, Gwen. Of course, with Anya involved the festivities include tormenting Laurie.

Warnings: Blood, Eye Harm, Depictions of anxiety and OCD, Depictions of food
Author's Notes: Originally part of a bigger work about these three, I couldn't find a good place to fit this scene in and broke it off into a standalone short story instead. Do not eat while reading.

April 30

 

     Normally when Anya wakes me up in the evenings she will silently sneak into my room before calling my name in her soft, dark voice and tickling me with gentle kisses. Last night Anya woke me up by slapping a pillow across my face as hard as she could swing. 
 

     “Up! Come on, get up!” She said as she pulled back to swing it again, “I need your help. Wake up!”
 

     As soon as I escaped the attack and was on my feet she shoved a fluffy pink dress and a handful of thin petticoats into my arms.
 

     “Ugh. You’re too skinny, but this will have to do. Go take a shower. Fix your hair. Get dressed. Hurry up. I can put some pins in the dress if it won’t stay on. Get moving! We don’t have much time!”
 

     I wasn’t actually awake until I found myself standing in the shower with the water spraying in my face. I didn’t remember how long I had been there, but I did suddenly remember why Anya was so worked up.
 

     I had forgotten about Gwen’s birthday. She and Anya had planned to have a party just after sunset the night before, when both of them would be awake at the same time. Gwen had asked to hold a royal tea party, hence the fancy dress Anya had given me. As much as I hated pink and dresses, wearing them for the sake of making Gwen happy was a completely different matter. I even had the urge to spruce up the basic dress a little. I found a small, white silk scarf to cover my neck plus some simple metal bracelets for accents. I also remembered to grab the present I had bought her from my closet.
 

     Once I was ready I went downstairs to see how I could help Anya. Clearly she had been cooking since she rose as she hadn’t even bothered to get dressed, and she was hopping about the kitchen from one project to the next while wearing her apron over her nightgown. Despite her overwhelmed rush there was a decisive grace to her movements, like a heron stepping through an overpopulated frog pond. The counter was cluttered with nearly finished items, including tiny sandwiches of juicy cucumbers and tender sprouts, a delectable rainbow of fresh fruit drying off from their wash in the sink, a board of dried meats and sausages waiting to be sliced, and bubbling on the stove were her trusty tea kettle and a small pot of fragrant fondue cheese. Meanwhile the table was home to an art gallery of desserts that I didn’t even know were in the health nut’s cooking repertoire. There were delicate shortbread cookies dipped in a bright lemon icing and sparkling sugar crystals, a platter of homemade Turkish delight that nearly looked like pieces of stained glass, and flawlessly adorable strawberry-vanilla petit fours. As I stepped in she was furiously pressing pie crust into a shiny pie tin.
 

     “No no no! Not in here!” She said when she saw me in the kitchen, “You’ll get stains on my dress! There! That! Get going!” She gestured to a pile of things on a table set up in the living room, without actually saying what she wanted done. 
 

     I started unfolding fabric pieces and picking through the other items. The tablecloth was easy to identify and set up, while the other things gave me a chance to annoy her with questions.
 

     “Can I fold the napkins into origami?”
 

     “No, Laurie. We want it simple and classy.”
 

     “Swans are classy.”
 

     “I said no.”
 

     “What about streamers? Do you have any steamers?”
 

     “No, too tacky.”
 

     “Balloons, then? I think it needs balloons.”
 

     “She’s turning thirty-one, Laurie. Not three.”
 

     “Well if we’re doing a princess theme I think there should at least be a pony somewhere.”
 

     I heard a few mumbled words, I think they were, “The only horse here is,” before she started doing something with loud chopping noises to drown herself out.
 

     When I wasn’t distracted with pestering her I could figure out the rest of the pile easier. Place mats, napkins, a sparkly tiara for the guest of honor, a fancy embroidered centerpiece for the table, and some other scraps of fabric that I eventually figured out were to go over the backs of the chairs to make them look more like thrones. 
 

     After that I started getting dishes from the kitchen to set the table. Anya had finished the pie and was cleaning the counter before she put it in the oven. She glanced at me over her shoulder, and then went to check on my decorations. I followed after her to see what she thought. She circled the table, chewing on her finger knuckle anxiously, and occasionally stopped to adjust a plate or realign a napkin. Eventually I had to step in and pull her away, or else she would be there nitpicking for hours.
 

     Once she had the pie in she started helping me set up. We had to dance around each other a few times as we were both trying to rush but at different paces. The table was starting to look like a tiny yet highly formal banquet was taking place when Anya suddenly looked up at the front windows and held her breath. I heard the same thing she did: the rumble of Gwen’s car pulling up to the curb.
 

     “She’s here!” Anya gasped as she shoved me towards the front door. “Distract her! I’m not ready!” She then bolted for the basement door, tearing off her apron as she went.
 

     I had a moment to check on my dress and readjust anything out of place before Gwen rang the doorbell. Once I opened the door I didn’t even have time to say, “Hi, Gwen!” before I was being choked by a tight hug and smothered in kisses.
 

     “Ahh! Laurie! You look so cute! I’ve never seen you in a dress before! You clean up so pretty! I’m so excited for tonight! Are you excited too? This is going to be so much fun!”
 

     I had never seen her in a dress before either. Come to think of it, I’d never seen her in anything that didn’t have paint splatters or charcoal smudges leftover from her latest art piece. Her dress was a soft, warm yellow that emphasized the rich tones in her brown skin and eyes, and the layers of fluffy petticoats underneath gave her the appearance of a delicate spring flower. She also had white silk gloves to match her white flats on her feet, and dangling daisy earrings that matched the silk daisies twisted around her long cornrows as a ponytail holder. She certainly looked the part of a fairy princess.
 

     “You look adorable too, Gwen!” I said once I could breathe again. “Anya will be up in a few minutes. Make yourself at home.”
 

     “Oh, how pretty!” She said as the table caught her attention. It was the only piece of furniture in the room, so of course it would attract attention. “I knew you girls would take good care of me. Anya always throws the best parties!”
 

     I pulled a chair out for her, but she seemed too energized to sit. She wandered around the table a few times, taking off her gloves to sneak a few bites where Anya wouldn’t notice. She ended up at the basement door, looking down into the dark stairwell.
 

     “How much longer will she take?”
 

     “I don’t know. I’ve seen her spend an hour on her makeup before.”
 

     She huffed. “She doesn’t need makeup. I’ve seen her without makeup.”
 

     I pushed the chair back in. “We could go for a little walk around the block if you want something to do.” It was the first thing I could think of to burn off some of the excess energy she seemed to have built up.
 

     She turned back to look at me, with her head tilted in thought. “A walk? At night? In formal dresses?”
 

     “Sure. Why not?”
 

     I knew that query was her weakness. If someone had asked it of me I could easily find dozens of responses and reasons, no matter how much I wanted to do the thing in question. But asking it of Gwen was giving her a challenge, and she loves a new challenge.
 

     She smiled brightly. “Well, it is a nice evening out, and Anya goes for walks in her big, fancy dresses all the time doesn’t she? Will she be okay with us leaving her?”
 

     “We won’t be gone long. The food won’t even get cold.” Though I did slip down to the basement to let Anya know our plan, just in case she got concerned. I wasn’t sure if she heard me as she was still trying to do three things at once, and paying me any mind didn’t seem to be one of them.
 

     It was a typically confused mid-spring evening outside. The air was still warm along the streets, where the asphalt had been heated by the daytime sun, but there was a chilly mist moving in now that the sun was down. Gwen and I stayed fairly close to each other, which was enough to keep the cold away.
 

     It felt surreal to walk with someone who wasn’t Anya. The conversations Anya preferred to have were usually quiet, introspective, and often depressing. She liked to talk about abstracts like death and existence, or about the past and things she missed or regretted. But Gwen didn’t have an immortal’s history to draw memories from, and didn’t like to dwell on topics that brought her down. She wanted to talk about concerts coming to town and restaurants we needed to try and camping trips she had planned or dreamed of, and occasionally she would comment on how lovely the moon looked when it was only a thin, smiling sliver. Even the movement speed wasn’t what I was used to. I could easily keep up with Anya, with her stiff joints and antique knees, but I would be caught off guard whenever Gwen would break into playful skipping or follow a hopscotch board left on the sidewalk in chalk.
 

     “So what made you decide on a princess party?” I said out of curiosity when the conversation had died down a bit.
 

     She giggled and played with the skirt of her dress. “When I was little I always wanted royal tea parties for my birthday. I remember one year my dad told me that it made him sad to think of the day when I would be too old to want to play princess. But I told him no! I said I would always love tea parties and always love being his princess!” Her voice shifted slightly as a bit of her energetic tone died down. “I suppose I do it mostly to remember him now. But I was still right, wasn’t I? I do still love my own special day and dressing up and being someone new for a change!”
 

     “Oh, that’s very sweet! Is your pack going to have a tea party for you too?” I couldn’t really imagine her werewolf friends having a formal dress up party. I’ve never seen half of them sitting still for more than a minute.
 

     She rolled her eyes at the question. “Those dogs always want to drink to celebrate. I’ll do that with them too, of course, but having tea with you and Anya is special. And I knew Anya would throw a big, fun party for me. She always throws wonderful parties!”
 

     I never imagined her to be the partying type. “I can’t wait to get back and see it.”
 

     She made a high-pitched noise. “Me neither! Come on!” She gently grabbed my hand and pulled me along as she sped up, almost jogging down the sidewalk.
 

     By the time we got back the table was fully set and ready, and the whole house smelled like baking pie. Anya was wearing a flowing, bright blue dress that not only brought out the deep blue of her eyes but the pale silver of her hair. She was the icy moonlight to Gwen’s warm sunshine. Said hair was also tied up with a matching blue ribbon, but that didn’t stop it from billowing across her back and shoulders like a wild storm cloud. Her sapphire jewelry somehow stood out yet blended in at the same time, adding a surprise sparkle to her movements. Her makeup was as flawless as ever, and with her artistic skills she could make her lifeless white skin look like she had just been in the sun yesterday.
 

     Gwen squealed excitedly at the sight of her and ran to give her a hug and kisses.
 

     “Gwen! You look beautiful!” Anya said. “Oh, wait wait wait! Here, here, this too!” She took the tiara from the table and gently placed it on Gwen’s head, where it sat so perfectly that it seemed like she was always meant to wear a crown. The rhinestones sparkled in her dark hair like stars in the night sky. She bounced on her toes as her excitement began building up again.
 

     “Your tea is ready, your majesty,” Anya said, beckoning for her to take a seat at the table.
 

     “Why thank you, your majesty,” Gwen said with a light bow and a giggle. She then turned to take my wrist and lead me behind her. “Come along, your majesty!”
 

     Anya had added to the display while we were gone. Plates piled high with food were artfully arranged on tiered shelves and lazy Susans for easy access. She had even cut a few fresh flowers from the yard for decoration.
 

     She had a few different varieties of tea forming the centerpiece. Some of them store-bought and held in bags, and others made of dried herbs and flowers from the garden and held in small bowls. Once we all had a cup steeping, Anya raised hers into the air.
 

      “Here’s to Gwen! To the wonderful new year ahead of you.”
 

     Gwen copied the gesture. “Another year together with you both!”
 

     I joined in as we clinked our mugs together.
 

     Gwen and I filled our plates eagerly. While we both could reach the fondue and pastries with ease, her side of the table held more of the jerky and sausages while mine had a bit more fresh fruit and breads. I handed her anything from my side that she wanted, of course, but there was very little flow in the opposite direction.
 

     I was more used to parties among Gwen’s friends, where the menu generally consisted of jerky sticks, barbecue, burgers, beef tacos, hot dogs, and other fleshy foods. Trying to pick out the vegetarian options usually left me going home hungry, but I never wanted to say anything because I was the outsider of their group. Here Anya already knew to accommodate for the both of us and our vastly different preferences.
 

     I felt sorry for Anya as she sat there and watched us. She had spent so long cooking and couldn’t eat a single bite. A vampire’s digestive system is far more specialized than a human’s, and ingesting anything that isn’t blood will make her deathly sick. There was only one thing at the table that she could enjoy, and that was to stuff her cup with so much loose tea that I could smell hers better than my own, and then simply hold the hot cup to warm her dead, icy hands. Occasionally she would lift the cup almost to her lips like she was about to drink, but she was taking in the sweet scent with slow, deep breaths. She did occasionally take one of the vegetable sandwiches, just to slip it onto my plate when she thought I’d had too many sugary things.
 

     Once the food began to dwindle we let Gwen unwrap her presents. Anya, always going above and beyond, got her new watercolor brushes, charcoal pencils, and an artist’s smock that she had hand-embroidered with Gwen’s name in elegant letters. Strangely, she also got her a few dollar store packages of bras and underwear. I thought it was some kind of inside joke or an attempt to embarrass her at first, but Gwen seemed too genuinely thankful and happy for a prank gift. I only got her a set of Copic markers that she had been eyeing the last time we went on a shopping trip downtown. It didn’t feel like much compared to Anya’s thoughtful present, but Gwen gave me a big hug and a few kisses for it anyway.
 

     Once that was over Anya picked up a few empty plates from the table. “I hope you’ve saved room, Gwen. I have something special for you,” she said as she rose from her seat.
 

     “Oh? Like dessert?”
 

     “Of course,” Anya said with an odd laugh. She disappeared into the kitchen with a skip in her step.
 

     Gwen gave me a big smile once Anya had disappeared through the doorway. “That’s Anya, isn’t it?” She whispered, “She always has a surprise up her sleeve.”
 

     Anya returned slowly, holding the still warm pie and gently singing the beginning of “Happy Birthday” as she approached. I cheerfully joined in the song, completely unaware of what she had planned.
 

     The pie was nearly a piece of edible artwork. Any slight imperfections in its appearance were simply proof that it had been handmade with love and care. Its crust was a beautiful golden brown, with a small heart cutout on one side. The cut piece was placed back on the window, making two adorably overlapping hearts. Obviously Gwen got the decorated slice. As Anya cut into the pie the crust was so light and flaky that it nearly fell apart beneath her knife. The filling was a rich, dark red, and I started craving strawberries or cherries. This was my brain trying to protect me.
 

     “Oh!” Gwen gasped, “Is that venison head pie?”
 

     My hunger disappeared so fast that it felt like my stomach had twisted.
 

     “Of course!” Anya said, “Your favorite, right?”
 

     “Anyaaaaaa! You shouldn’t have!” She said with laughter in her voice. 
 

     Anya set the plate with her piece in front of her. “Only the best for our birthday girl. Right, Laurie?”
 

     I smiled and nodded. My own feelings towards the pie weren’t important. Gwen’s favorite foods could be whatever she wanted. I sat back to keep chatting with her while she enjoyed her special treat.
 

     However, I heard a small clink in front of me. I looked down to see another slice of pie, with its thick, bloody filling dripping onto Anya’s pure white plates. I looked up again at Anya, and she gave me a friendly smile.
 

     I saw her lick her fangs from behind her teeth.
 

     Both of us knew what she was doing. This wasn’t her forgetting my diet. She was simply trying to upset me. If I complained then she would dig her heels in and complain back until we were arguing, and an argument would be awful for poor Gwen to sit through on her birthday. I couldn’t ruin Gwen’s party and I couldn’t voice my problem, but I could sit there and be uncomfortable, which is what Anya was likely expecting me to choose.
 

     The entertainment value was clearly a factor in planning dessert. Anya has what she calls a “predator instinct;” an intrinsic desire to hunt down and tear apart defenseless humans like myself. However she has found that she can satisfy that desire just by making my heart race or setting off my anxiety. In fact this was part of our agreement when I volunteered to be her bride. I not only give her fresh blood to drink and a warm body to heat her cold corpse, but I also act as an outlet for her to vent her nastier feelings. I guess I should be thankful that she would rather embarrass me than rip my throat out, but while it’s happening I would prefer the latter.
 

     I stared at the pie for a few seconds more, and then gave Anya a weak, “Oh. Thanks.” She patted my head like a puppy.
 

     Anya surprisingly took a slice for herself and sat down like nothing happened. She and Gwen started a friendly conversation, thankfully ignoring me.
 

     Gwen took big chunks of pie on her fork eagerly, but then used the fork to gesture as she spoke instead of eating. She had such grace in her movements that no matter how wild they got, she never spilled a single drop of filling despite it constantly threatening to drip on her beautiful dress. I should’ve kept watching her, but instead I stupidly chose to watch Anya.
 

     Anya slowly dissected her pie with her fork, pulling back the flaky crust with surgeon-like precision. The filling inside wasn’t just a thick sauce but also generously sized chunks of meat, and occasionally a few bone fragments that both of them had to pick out. Anya patiently dug out a piece of meat and speared it with her fork. She put the chunk in her mouth and just sat there, listening to Gwen’s story. (I don’t actually remember what the story was about. It was amusing at the time, but I had too many other things on my mind to focus.) After a minute or two she then spat the unchewed meat back out on her fork, now a drained and grotesque color, and set it down on the edge of her plate before fishing another from the pie.
 

     I was so disgusted watching her, yet I couldn’t make myself stop. My germophobe brain was clawing at the inside of my skull over the thought of her kissing me with those lips later. Out of all the substances a body can make, the one my brain hates the most is spit. Sticky, bubbly, vile spit. It was probably all over her lips, her tongue, her fangs, her growing pile of drained meat, her fork, and her plate. Every plate on the table felt dirty to me now. And the plates were touching the tablecloth, so the tablecloth was dirty. The tablecloth was touching the table, so the table was dirty. The table was touching the floor, so the floor was dirty. The floor was touching my feet, so I was-
 

     “Laurie? What’s wrong?”
 

     Gwen’s voice snapped me out of that train of thought long enough to realize I had been staring. Anya paused to look back at me innocently, holding a fresh piece of meat over her plate in limbo. I blinked at her, and then turned to Gwen.
 

     “What?”
 

     “Are you okay? You haven’t touched your pie.”
 

     “Yeah, Laurie,” Anya said with a soft voice of feigned concern, “I thought you liked sweets.”
 

     “I, uh,” I struggled to think of a response she couldn’t escalate, “I’m not a fan of pie crust.”
 

     “Hmm? How odd.” She licked a drop of filling off her fork before it could drip back down to the pie. “You have the strangest dislikes of anyone I’ve met. How does such a picky eater keep herself alive as long as you have?”
 

     She blinked twice. Between the quick flutter of her eyelashes I could see her eyes turn bright red and back to blue. That was bait. Every part of it, right down to her slowly continuing to lick her fork as she stared at me. She was itching for a fight and I wasn’t giving it to her.
 

     Fortunately, Gwen seemed to be oblivious to her shenanigans.
 

     “You don’t want it? But your piece has an eyeball! That’s the best part!”
 

     I didn’t even look at where she was pointing, I just slid my plate over to her. “Do you want it?”
 

     “What? Really?”
 

     “Sure! It’s your birthday.” I was happy to have found an escape.
 

     “Ohh, thank you! That’s so sweet!” She used her fork to spear a squishy, white object out of the pie filling. My brain tried to protect me again, as for a second I thought it was a marshmallow despite already knowing the truth. It didn’t really matter what it was, it was still less disgusting than spit. As soon as it disappeared into her mouth she gave an adorable hum of delight. 
 

     “No, the whole piece. You can have it.”
 

     She stopped chewing and gave me a confused look. “Are you sure?”
 

     “She won’t want it if your fork touched it,” Anya interrupted, “She’s weird like that.” By now she had finished the meat chunks and was trying to scrape up the remaining sauce with the edge of her fork. The hollowed-out crust had been shoved aside with the meat.
 

     “Oh! I’m sorry, Laurie!”
 

     “No, it’s fine! Really!” I felt a sudden urge to go wash my hands. That would get me away from the table, at least. “May I please be excused for a moment, your majesty?”
 

     “Oh, okay.” She sounded very quiet.
 

     “Here, Laurie darling, make yourself useful,” Anya said, handing me some empty dishes. I gathered them up and took them into the kitchen.
 

     As soon as I passed the door I heard Gwen whisper, “Did I do something wrong?” 
 

     I felt a guilty ache in my chest.
 

     “No, no no no. You’re fine,” Anya said, quiet and gentle, “She’s just... weird, you know? All of that picky eating and fork touching and vegetarian nonsense.”
 

     “Vege-what?” She sounded like she had her mouth full again. There was a slight pause, probably for her to swallow. “Wait, then why did you give her a slice?”
 

     I set the plates next to the sink, but didn’t turn the water on so that I could hear their conversation. However the exchange between them at that point must have been nonverbal.
 

     “Anya, were you being mean to her?”
 

     “Wh-what?” Anya’s voice suddenly shot to a soft, angelic whimper, “Me? Mean to someone? Why, I’ve never been mean to anyone. Never in my life. I don’t think I could be mean if I wanted to. I simply couldn’t.”
 

     “Anya...”
 

     “Gwen?”
 

     There was a short pause, and in that time I worked up the courage to shout, “Kick her butt, Gwen!”
 

     Gwen cracked up laughing so hard that I couldn’t hear what Anya yelled back. I went to the doorway to see Gwen doubled over on the table while Anya sat there and glared at me. She was trying to look menacing, but it wasn’t working since she had switched from her fork to licking the pie off her fingers like a small child.
 

     Gwen stood up and ran to hug me. “Lauriiiiie, were you going to sit there and let that big mean bat bully you? You silly thing.”
 

     Her laughter was so infectious that it got me laughing too. In hindsight it was a bit ridiculous to think that I could mess up as badly as I thought. Gwen is a good friend, and an understanding friend at that. She knows Anya’s quirks and mental troubles just as well as I do. Surely a little of Anya’s nonsense wouldn’t be enough to ruin an entire day.
 

     Once Gwen released me from the hug she stretched her arms over her head and yawned.
 

     “It’s been a wonderful night, but I should be getting home. Thank you so much, girls.”
 

     There were plenty of goodbye hugs and kisses before she left, plus reminders to come back and visit as often as she wanted. Anya even packaged up the remaining pie for her to take home.
 

     Once she was gone the two of us took a small break to change into more comfortable clothes before we tackled the mountain of dishes left over. I washed while Anya rounded them up from the other room and dried.
 

     “That was rude of you to try to mess up her party,” I said as I rinsed a few splotches of pie off one plate.
 

     “Rude? Mess up? Oh, Laurie, I would never. Never ever ever. I worked very, very hard on that party. Why would I mess it up? I only wanted to play with you because I knew you wouldn’t be the one to mess it up. You did a very good job, too. Not a single thing went wrong.” She patted me on the shoulder like a dog again.
 

     I tried to splash her with the soapy water as she walked away. “You’re such a pain.”
 

     I heard the small clink of another pie plate on the counter and turned to wash it, but this one was clean except for the small cupcake sitting in the center. It had one of the muffin cups I bought last Halloween, with a jack-o-lantern pattern. It was a simple vanilla cake with some strawberry sauce under its vanilla icing, plus one perfect red cherry on top. It was plain and a bit rushed compared to the other treats she had baked earlier, probably the result of some leftover ingredients that needed to be used up.
 

     “There you go,” Anya said with a smile, “A little reward for being a good sport.”
 

     I sighed off the last of my anger and smiled back. “You do always have a surprise up your sleeve, don’t you?”
 

     Her smile grew as she giggled lightly. “Oh, you don’t even know. Just wait and see what I have planned for your birthday!”
 

     I shuddered.