people want my power
&& they want my station

but they couldn't take it

Once upon a time, Samantha had been a trusting little girl. She'd believed in fairy tales. She'd thought that people were inherently good and that eventually, she'd have her happily ever after. She'd go to school, get a good job, fall in love, get married, and have happy little children darting about her as she lived out the dreams she'd always had. It had seemed to be working out for her. And then she'd been stolen by three women who had ripped that all away from her with one week and a slash of her neck. But still, as she'd woken up fae, she'd believed in good. And then Frost had made her believe in paranoia and terrors and turned her world into a living nightmare all for fun. In his fun, her boyfriend had (presumably, though that was something that had turned to be false) lost his life, she'd fallen apart, and she'd given up everything in her guilt and grief. Frost had taken so much away from her in his devilish games, and yet he'd given her things also.

In her self-imposed exile, she'd worked to harness those empathic powers that she'd been blessed with. Where before her abilities would burst out of her unpredictably, she could wield them almost effortlessly now. To create things out of her emotions, to read minds with a touch, to influence people with the pull on their emotions. And her favorite, that she could use the emotions of others to replicate their powers. The latter being one she so rarely used, and yet she had learned to use it in order to protect herself. Because, no matter what the future threw at her, she never wanted to be that scared, helpless little girl in the alley watching her boyfriend die ever again. She wanted to be able to fend for herself. And now, she could.

Frost had also taught her that it was never okay to presume she was absolutely safe. Monsters and nightmares lurked, even in the cities that were so predominantly supernatural. Dark Hunters wanted blood of fae for the crime of existing. So it was important to know your surroundings. To be aware.

It was that particular lesson that she'd been taught that made her realize she was being followed. The first day, she'd considered it to be a fluke that the dark haired man had seemed to be in her peripheral vision all day. By the second day, she'd considered it to be more than a coincidence. By the third day, she was just annoyed with it all. She'd been laying low in the city thus far. She'd sought out her previous friends to regain contact, but other than that, she had been relatively inconspicuous. But the appearance of her newfound stalker had put her on guard. Her stalker was fae. Finally, after years of working at it, she could pick up the races of those supernatural creatures as easily as breathing. At least he was fae and not a hunter. But still, what did the fae man want with her?

By the fourth day, she had some ideas. She'd visited the burlesque briefly, and while he hadn't followed her, it had been the fae women that had once been loyal to her that had mentioned the new monarchy in the city. The women had buzzed about their previous queen, and for once, Samantha had actually felt comfortable around those girls. When was she reclaiming her throne? It seemed to be the question on all of their lips, and yet Samantha had no answers for them. Being a queen had hardly worked out well for her in the first place, but she was wiser now. She would make a much more capable queen now, and yet she wasn't sure she was ready to take on that role just yet. It had been a fae girl named Mabel that had finally huffed about it all, proclaiming that 'they should all just join Andras and get it over with'. Andras, they explained, was the new monarch, though they were useless for information beyond that he was named Andras, and that he was cold and cruel. They hadn't met him. Hadn't been invited to join the so-called monarchy. They had no solid leads, and yet suddenly the previous queen was positive that it was this Andras that so lurked in the shadows of her vision. Not that she could blame him, really. She had been an interesting choice for queen in the first place. The turned girl with no real knowledge of what she was or how to wield the power she contained. And then she'd abandoned everything for two years only to be... back. It would be enough for any monarch to be curious.

The fifth day of her so-called stalking, Samantha was ready to end the toying games that he seemed so willing to play for her, and yet it wouldn't be her that sought him out. He was the one wanting to play this game of cat and mouse, so all Samantha would do was be one very intelligent little mouse. She'd seen him in the corner of her eye as she'd left her neighborhood, and been assured that he was following her when she turned a corner and saw him behind her a minute later. She kept her eyes forward as she walked, giving no indication she'd seen him at all. No, she would not play the role of the scared girl avoiding her stalker as he might presume she would. No, she didn't acknowledge him even as she turned into the park and allowed herself to sit on a bench. Instead, she fiddled with her phone and tried to look disinterested in the entire experience. She didn't look up as the dark haired man approached her, nor when he sat on the bench beside her.

She called her powers to her easily, catching the faintest glimpse of... curiosity? from him before it was gone abruptly, and Samantha knew this kind of trick. She'd seen it with Frost, though she hadn't known then to be wary of it. There would always be a few immune to her ability. And while those people may have made her uneasy, she didn't let that show on her features. She was not powerless against him, after all. She still held other powers should he attack her, though the inability to read his emotions certainly caused a flicker of annoyance in the girl. It was only at the sound of her name did she look up, her eyes trained on the man with the wicked smile in front of her. Ah, so her theory had been correct. He knew exactly who she was, and while she didn't know much about the man before her, she refused to let that show. After all, like a good game of poker, she would never show her hand. She remained silent as he spoke, his intentions to rattle her clear as he placed his arm so near her body. It was a challenge then. Interest in what exactly she knew and what she would do about it.

"Pleasure, Andras," Samantha replied evenly, showing no emotion in her voice as she regarded him. She supposed the previous Sam might have been intimidated by the creature sat beside her. He was tall and imposing, and yet this version of Samantha Cassidy was hardly concerned with his not-so-subtle ways of attempting to startle her. She remembered the fae women at the burlesque's words that he was cruel, cold, and willing to destroy anyone who defied him, and yet that hardly corcerned her. Rumors were an interesting thing, weren't they?

Instead of playing in to the game of cat and mouse he was so initiating, Samantha turned in her seat to face him, leaning forward to instead encroach on his personal space. She would not be afraid of him, she told herself, no matter what. Being afraid had gotten everything taken from her once, and she refused to be that girl again when things were finally returning to her.

"I've heard rumblings," Samantha said, a devilish smile appearing on her own red lips. "Rumblings about a cruel, sadistic ruler of a new monarchy in the city. I've heard that you lock fae in your dungeon to torture if they defy you." Samantha leaned in even more then, not once breaking the eye contact she held with him. "I've heard lots of things, Andras. But I'm more concerned about why you've been following me for five days." She smirked then. "Surely, such a powerful monarch isn't afraid of a little faerie girl. So what do you really want?"

try to pull my status but they couldn't fake it

Samantha Cassidy