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La Comtesse Chronicles Chapter 6 Part 1

R

<<Suppose it might not seem so odd to you...I—uh, obviously am not from this time. Let’s see...it was the twenty-first century, Ireland. Dunno rightly where I was born, those records didn’t seem to have made it according to everyone I asked. Also didn’t care much, there’s that. Always had a knack for gettin’ into trouble. Can’t say anyone would probably too surprised if they heard I’d gone and found a wormhole either. The existence of a wormhole would be the more shocking aspect.>>

“Ah, the twenty-first century, would explain the superhero references, along with calling your companion a “boy scout”. That was a good century, pop-culture wise. Most of the video games I have are from that era, as it was one I lived through in real time. I do have some that are a bit more… futuristic…. But I generally leave those with Ariel. She manages the company that I own in the “future”.” 

<<I was thirteen. Wasn’t long before the assassins picked my scrawny butt off the streets. One of their more regretful decisions I’ve been told. Course I always thought they were joking about being the worst thing to happen to them in this century...heh.>> 

“I’m surprised that you are familiar with the concept of a wormhole, not many in this time are, even if they are from other times. You must have been intellectually gifted for thirteen. Explains quite a bit about you. I won’t ask the circumstances under which the wormhole appeared, they can be highly irregular…. Or as regular as the door has them here. Just depends though. I’m afraid getting you back to your original time is now completely out of the question, given what you are. However, we may be able to schedule a visit to the time period, assuming I can count on you to behave yourself.” Snickers round the table at that comment. 

He drank, and seemed to enjoy it. Hmmm, if this was how he was when tired…. She was beginning to understand why the assassins had a rough time with him. Might have to give him something to do to tire him out, video games aside. 

<<Video games eh? Rusty I may be, but I can’t wait to beat the socks...stockings...off of ya, sweets>>

"Sweets?" Low tone of a word left her lips, eyes flashed, everyone at the table froze in place.

........ 

Back into his mind they went, he now up against a wall. Floating up to him, she slammed her hand against the wall in a traditional kabedon. Her lips now a mere inch away from his ear, her breath ghosting across it. 

"It's always the same with you men. First it's something like sweets, or luv, then I wear just the right outfit and I get a glimpse of your inner beast." 

A flash went through his mind of her up against a wall, she a moaning mess, her dress hiked up, he between her legs. 

Back to the kabedon situation, she laughed a low rumble, fangs bared. "I am good at more than just video games, Cal. So if you want to play, I can play.... a far more adult game. Just be careful not to get burned....I'm not your pet, so stop referring to me as one. I tolerate Arthur as I care for him deeply. But I won't have another one like him, not with you hardly knowing me. My name is Comtesse, not sweets, luv, or any other pet name you can think of. Have I made myself clear?" Growl in her voice, the tone of having to deal with far too little respect for far too long. 

….... 

Few seconds passed as everything practically stood still. Eyes moved to Cal, everyone afraid to even take a breath as they waited for whatever she had just done to him. Thunder of a laugh left her, fangs protruding as she took a gulp from her glass of rouge.

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One Prank Too Many

A Short story from the MidCin fandom -R https://archiveofourown.org/works/34310062

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The Phoenix Queen

Just a teaser of something I’ve been working on for a long time. It’s the beginning of a dark fantasy novel. Enjoy. -R

Faster, she had to move faster. She knew, she could feel it, he was almost gone. Why did she have to sleep? It was just a nap and he promised he wouldn’t leave the throne room. Please…. Please…. Don’t be too late. 

She threw the heavy doors to the throne room open and gasped for air. Though there were only about twenty or so nobles present, the red liquid slowly seeping down the steps to the throne was quite visible. She took off in a run again, her shoes clattering hard against the solid and cold stone.

She shouted his name, yet she couldn’t hear her own voice as she ascended the steps. Her husband lay in front of her, blood slowly trickling down the steps from several stab wounds. She sank to her knees, tears forming in her eyes, her breath shaking as she pulled him into her arms. For the second time in her life, she held the one she loved most, as they lay dying in her arms. His beautiful blue eyes met her brilliant teal ones as she slightly shook her head. He mouthed the words “I love you” and then slowly closed his eyes. 

She let out a cry from the very depths of her being, a wail that sounded of a world-ending. Had her hair not already turned white from the events of her childhood, it would have done so now. The room grew cold and ice crystals began forming across the floor. The nobles glanced back and forth between one another, with several bolting for the open doors. The doors, as if making sure that none would escape justice, slammed closed, the nobles turning back to look upon their queen.

The light in the throne room began to dim, as outside, what appeared to be a solar eclipse suddenly and rapidly appeared in the sky. Hushed whispers of panicked voices arose in the room, all seeming to be some variation of “it can’t be”. The room plunged into total darkness and silence, save for a pair of glowing amethyst eyes near the throne.

Unearthly sounds could be heard from the windows followed by a beastly and deep growl. Small bursts of a purple-black fire ran along the walls, lighting the sconces along the wall with the strange magical fire. A deep, raspy voice echoed through the throne room, 

“My, my, my. What have we here? A murdered king in the throne room. Did none of you pay any attention in school? Or did you think it was all just an old legend meant to scare bureaucrats into not killing their rulers?”

As the room lit more and more, it revealed a man, or what looked like a man, with glowing red eyes standing near the throne. He was dressed oddly, wearing what appeared to be black dragon skin in the form of a long, tailored coat. He leaned against a cane, with a silver dragon head at the handle. His smile sent chills through the nobles who were present, especially when he ran his fingers through his black hair. He picked a piece of dust off the vest of his black suit, seemingly bored with the whole affair. 

A nobleman, still holding a knife drenched in crimson, spoke up, his voice trembling, “A-are you?”

“The one who appears whenever a Wizard monarch is murdered? Yes, that would be me. Please tell me you remember my name at least? One can’t go around bringing about prophecies and fulfilling old legends properly without the requisite knowledge of just who is smiting who, now can we?”

“Dracten? No…. it… it can’t be.” The noble shook his head in disbelief. 

“Ah, well, at least your schooling was good for something. Now, let’s see here. I count…. Five of you with blades, several more with magical residue. My, my, what did he do to deserve such a death?”

“He and his queen have yet to save us from the undead scourge that is threatening to take over the realms.” The noble replied.

The same beastly growl filled the room from before and the man dressed in black slowly walked towards the nobleman, looking quite annoyed. “If you mean to lie to a god, I suggest that you do a better job of it, mortal.”  Once Dracten was right in front of the noble, he tapped his cane on the ground, “Let’s try that again, shall we?”

“He’s only half wizard. Not fit for being a royal.”

Dracten’s eyebrow twitched and his expression grew stern. “THAT is why he was murdered? Not for power, revenge, personal vendetta, the throne? No, you all chose to kill someone, over THAT?”

“Without a pure-blooded heir, the Wizard kingdom would surely suffer a lack of power against the other races.”

Dracten inhaled a few times, seeming to start speaking before pressing his lips together, only to repeat the process over again. “You…. Are an idiot.” Dracten walked away, shaking his head, making his way to the grieving queen. He stretched out his hand to her, which she reluctantly took as he helped her stand. He looked her over and then sighed, “My, my. Being the one to fulfill the prophecy of reuniting the realms apparently was not enough, was it? As you know, I am here at your service, especially seeing as you are the last of the royal bloodline, are you not?”

Her eyes had grown puffy, and her tears had crystalized into ice along her cheeks. She nodded and then spoke in a hoarse voice. “I am.”

“What is your request then? Torment for all eternity? Death, destruction and chaos? Come now, I must have an answer.”

“Any of you who had nothing to do with my husband’s death, leave now.” Her expression grew distant as the doors to the throne room swung open. All but a few hurried out of the room. Just beyond the threshold of the door, several sets of eyes watched with great interest and relief, thankful that they were not caught in the ancient enchantments of the throne room. “Dracten, my wish, in part of my family’s agreement with you ages ago, is to borrow your power for a time.”

He grinned with a deep laugh, “Now THAT, is one I have never been asked for before. Very well, you will be granted my powers for a time. And in return?”

“You may do with their souls as you wish. This I grant you, not only as the queen of the Wizards, but as the rightful heir to the Angelic and Demonic thrones, unifier of the races and restorer of the realms.”

He hit his cane on the floor twice and laughed again, “Excellent! I do love a good show.” He hopped over to the throne and sat down as if getting ready to watch a highly anticipated play. 

The nobleman spoke up, now visibly trembling, “Your Majesty, please, understand what we did was for the good of the kingdom.” Her eyebrow quirked and her gaze met his, her eyes both glowing a deep blood red. “Please… there must be someone far better suited, that you would prefer.”

The ice that had initially formed across the floor now spread, coating every nook and cranny. Dracten watched and laughed, “I’m afraid that won’t do when she loved him dearly. Be a good mortal and die with dignity, or do you mean to grovel?” Dracten’s laughter filled the room. It was an unnerving laugh, one that only one who enjoyed death and destruction could produce. He hit his cane on the floor twice and his eyes glowed brilliantly, the amethyst hue pouring out of his eyes. Blackened smoke, with purple lightning, began to pour out from him, taking the shape of a serpent dragon. It surrounded the queen until she was completely enveloped. 

When the smoke cleared, she stood there in the room, one eye glowing red, the other purple. Dracten now held a goblet and took sips here and there as he made himself more comfortable on the throne. 

“Hear me now. I will never love another. There will be no heir and the royal line will die with me. Then this realm and all our underwater cities will lie in ruins, all for your intolerance of someone who was merely half. And while I will defeat the undead and necromancers that plague us, I will do so on my terms, the same with the remainder of my rule.” She spoke clearly, yet her voice shook, not with sorrow, but with rage. “Tell me. You know me as the Phoenix Queen, yet, have you ever seen a dark phoenix?”

“Erm… no, your Majesty.” He replied, afraid not to answer her. 

The same creepy smile that Dracten once displayed now took hold of her lips as a dark shadow grew from behind her. The fire on the sconces dimmed and the screech of a bird sounded. A great many screams were heard afterward, as retribution and an old bargain was once again fulfilled, the floors stained red, and the sky darkened.

In the days that followed, several funerals were held, the queen standing by at each, expression ice cold, her teal eyes hollow and devoid of emotions. She never cried publicly over the loss of her husband, but rather issued a decree stating what had happened that day, the surviving bureaucrats signing as witnesses. 

The kingdom mourned for their king and for their queen. But there was little time for such things, as there was a horde of undead that needed defeating.

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La Comtesse Chronicles Chapter 5 Part 4

Words: 727

CW: Vampires

TW: Blood

B:

One might think after all that had happened...today? Had it only been a day? He would be prepared for almost anything. Not this. Not any of it. 

Her explanation about the source of their sustenance satisfied the fears he’d had, some questions she’d answered he hadn’t even dared to bring up. The solutions weren’t usually so...benign. When looking deeper, things tended to get darker, more twisted, not show themselves to uphold the shining exterior presented. With her, everything retained that polished gleam, almost too bright to look at. 

How was it then when he wanted to keep preparing for the worst, but there she was, proving him wrong at every turn. More than that, she designed an association for him, cementing an illusion that while temporary, would deny his demons the right to their claim on his soul, even his ability to consume life’s saving liqueur. Whether it had been his life, or someone else’s. 

It was more than he could’ve ever thought to hope for. And she wasn’t done. 

If he’d placed a hand to his cheeks, there’d have been a substance he’d claim foreign. He didn’t deserve to cry. Neither did he warrant her mercy, yet she’d brought him here. Her forgiveness, understanding, an impossibility he’d never thought to examine. Didn’t, couldn’t, bring himself to ever consider yearning for. Course, most of his victims didn’t survive to offer it, but more than that...what sort of person would forgive their killer?? 

Yet she just did. 

There were no words to describe this feeling, the squeezing of his heart in his chest ‘til it refused to beat, the air trapped in his lungs refusing to breathe. She held him in the most tender of embraces, yet she might as well have been the only thing holding him together. 

A bell sounded and inconceivably, life continued. 

He was shaken, the words shared aloud faintly registering as hands concealing a faint tremor brought the redefined beverage to his lips. He didn’t expect anyone to forgive him, or understand. Yet she’d seen fit to do both. The pain constricting his breath was lifted, and it had less to do with the rouge sending healing to his battered body than her declaration of absolution. 

Video games? Movies?? She had those things in this century? Clinging to memories of his past and words from the future as if they were a lifeline, they became his escape from parsing through things he’d spent a decade avoiding. Maybe he’d look at them later, probably on one of the rooftops, the moon would shine its cold light on another seeking solitude, safety in being vulnerable. Not at a dining room table mostly full of people who had every right to continue hating him. Maybe, but in all likelihood not. Avoidance had been his friend far longer than most things. 

“Suppose it might not seem so odd to you...I—uh, obviously am not from this time. Let’s see...it was the twenty-first century, Ireland. Dunno rightly where I was born, those records didn’t seem to have made it according to everyone I asked. Also didn’t care much, there’s that. Always had a knack for gettin’ into trouble. Can’t say anyone would be too surprised if they’d heard I’d gone and found a wormhole either. The existence of a wormhole would be the more shocking aspect.” 

They wouldn’t miss him, the ones from his time anymore than those in the Citadel. He wasn’t sure how much information she really wanted about him, and for a certainty, or so he assumed, the residents around the table couldn’t be too keen to hear it. Unless they wanted to use it against him. 

“I was thirteen. Wasn’t long before my mentor, an assassin from the Citadel, picked my scrawny butt off the streets. One of their more regretful decisions I’ve been told. Course I always thought they were joking about being the worst thing to happen to them in this century...heh.” 

Bouncing a bit in his seat, the honey scented liquid imbued vim and vitality, his roguish grin washing away the cobwebs of the past. 

“Video games eh? Rusty I may be, but I can’t wait to beat the socks...or stockings? Off of ya, sweets.” 

In his exuberance, the preference for an absence of endearing nicknames was forgotten, the sobriquet easily tripping off his tongue.

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La Comtesse Chronicles Chapter 5 Part 3

Art by @nae812​

Words: 1375

CW: Vampires

TW: Blood

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Cal and Derrick cleaned up nicely, though it was quite obvious that they needed custom clothes, especially the larger of the two. Message sent to Sebastian telepathically to have Derrick fitted for his own wardrobe in the coming days. Castle seamstresses were going to have a lot of work on their hands, as even Leonardo wasn’t this large of a man. 

<<Right! Famous lads from history, eh? If I’d have known the great Napoleon Bonaparte was on the battlefield, might’ve brought more darts! Course, I thought you’d be shorter an’ all. Inferno or not, you’re reasonably impressive!>>

Right, cause that was a bright move, Cal. Loud sigh came from Comtesse. There went all of the trouble she had gone to in order to hide which of them had harmed her personally. Were she not so controlled she would have done a full on facepalm. Guess this one was a stubborn one, or he wanted to save his friend from any animosity. Napoleon seemed less than amused, his lips pressed together, eyes flashing, especially at the short joke. Not something he enjoyed about the propaganda about him, during his time or even after. 

<<We are indebted to your graciousness for freeing us from that place and accepting us into your home. It may be a moment before I can formulate questions, in the meantime if I can answer anything for you?>> 

“You are welcome. I just could not leave you there, especially since you weren’t terrified of me. I have not run into many who know of me who are not. Well, that don’t live under this roof, I mean. I suppose there are a great many things that seem unique about you that made me decide to offer you a place here as well, not just Cal. I do have questions, but I’d rather ask them privately, especially since they concern where exactly you come from.” 

The other conversations being had did not escape her notice, but she thought it best to let them fight it out with words than to constantly intervene. Though she kept her remarks to Derrick short, what she said to him in his head was quite a different matter. 

‘Derrick, no one can hear this, but I am curious as to who your sire is. Why would they leave you in that horrible place to begin with? Most of my kind take siring someone as a great responsibility and do not treat it lightly, though I suppose some do. I find that I’m not fond of the idea of some blaggard of a pure blood leaving you in that horrible place.’ 

Cal interrupted to try to do something to clear his name, however unsuccessfully. <<Your Comtesse was another job. There was nothing more to it. Take it as personally as you like, she’s important to ya. All I’ve got to offer is my word I won’t be raising a hand against her from here out. Any of y’all either. Take it or leave it, that’s how it is.>> 

Yeah, that didn’t really do much to assuage any of their rage or fears. Chatter continued, this time they had decided to leave the poor man alone as he turned to speak to Comtesse, he wearing the smile of a man facing his own execution. 

<<However did you manage to wrangle a wormhole anyway, swee—Comtesse?>> 

......

The sound of a drop of water hitting a pool only he heard. He and Comtesse, suddenly alone in a room he had never seen, she standing before him.

“We are in your mind, before you ask. I figured it would be better to talk to you here than out loud.” She sighed and looked up at him, brows knitting together, eyes swimming as she looked his face over. “You need to eat or you’ll go feral. I can’t have you losing your mind and attacking one of the human residents in the castle. It is true that everyone that is presently in the room is a vampire, Sebastian included, but this is not true for the many that I employ on the grounds. 

I can tell what’s going on, it’s written all over your expression. The smell, what it’s meant to you before. It’s ok. This is different. Every single drop that we get here in this castle is humanely acquired, from the future. A blood bank, as you might be familiar with. I own a pharmaceutical research firm in that wormhole, as you asked about. This is how we eat, and how they get lifesaving medicine. I think it’s a good trade off. But I digress. 

I’m going to help you… might be a bit weird till you get used to it… but focus with me. It’s rouge, a type of wine. Delectably sweet, smells of honey and elder flowers with a tinge of the iron in the soil. Crimson in color, the red of it’s beautiful flower. Relax and let it nourish you. You won’t heal otherwise.” Her powers altered things, flooded his senses with her description, building an association in an instant, banishing his previous attachment to the smell, at least for now.

“Cal…” She floated up to his eye level, reaching out and tenderly touching his cheek. “You are safe here, despite the animosity you are experiencing now. It won’t last forever, that I can promise. I imagine soon they will start to become your friends, something it seems you haven’t had except for the man next to you. But more importantly….” 

Arms were wrapped around him, her voice wavering, a soft whisper, full of emotion, saltwater hitting his shoulder. “I forgive you….” 

Time stood still, her warmth enveloping him, till the ting of a bell heralded the return to the present, outside of his mind. 

….. 

“Good question, Cal. Before that, I’d like to address something. Gentlemen.” The sound of a chime echoed through the room, though there was none. Everyone stopped and looked at her expectantly. “I went to that citadel knowing full well that I would be bringing back with me the man who tried to take my life. While the situation is an ugly one, the truth behind it is far worse, and not his fault. When we entered the council room, I delved into a few of their minds, for just a moment. 

Cal was not meant to come back from his mission. They knew he was not going to succeed in killing me, as was the point. They just didn’t count on how good he was at the job they forced upon him. Listen carefully to me: I don’t blame him nor hold him responsible for what happened. He was simply doing the job of a soldier. Jean, Napoleon, each of you can relate I’m sure. The man who was responsible for the harm that came to me has been dealt with. 

All that being said, I forgive Cal.” 

Theo began to shake, his and others’ eyes shining with vampiric rage. “How can you forgive this klootzak of a man? Just like that? He hasn’t done anything to deserve your forgiveness.” 

“Mercy does not care for what is deserved, forgiveness cares not for penance, they simply are and move forward. I do not expect you all to join me in my decision to move forward at this time, but I do hope you each will consider it in your own time.” 

Eyes around the table widened. Silence only to be broken by her voice. Whether her words had the desired effects or not, time would tell. 

“Now, to answer your question, Cal. The wormhole or rather, wormholes are tied to a door that I created. I won’t get into the mechanics of it, only Isaac and Leonardo have gotten close to the proper understanding. Regardless, all you need to know is that I’ve traveled and have brought back quite a few things from various times and places. I believe that you’ll find the X-men movies, and other superhero movies you have mentioned knowing of, in one of the entertainment rooms only the vampire residents and staff are allowed in. We also have a plethora of video games, as I’m a big fan. My turn for a question for you. Where and when exactly are you from?”

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La Comtesse Chronicles Chapter 5 Part 2

Words: 1467

CW: Vampires

TW: Blood

B:

The flight was unlike anything either had ever experienced. It was a marvel, seeing the world from a new perspective. Who can put it into words? Or paint a masterpiece capturing just how small and insignificant one feels when seeing how small they were in the greater scheme? Yet every life they passed over would continue on their way, utterly oblivious to the circumstances of their world at large. Inspiring and humbling simultaneously. 

It also made for a splendid distraction from what would be waiting for them, or Cal in particular.

He was used to people hating him; really Derrick was the only person who’d so much as tolerated the scoundrel, with his own mentor ready to strangle him after a few years. The Citadel may have been a death trap waiting to happen, but he knew every inch of the place and how to survive it. This whole experience would be brand new...and they’re all vampires, he assumed. Ones who knew what they were doing with their abilities, if the two he’d seen on the battlefield were any indication. 

Frak it all, get a grip! Since when did he fret about new adventures? He was constantly going into dangerous situations, usually with the intent to kill someone. That aspect was already out of the way! Technically. Which was why everyone would be looking to take his head. You know, entering castles tended to be easier when nobody knew anything about him...but this newness wasn’t all bad. Though saying it out loud would be impossible, he was especially glad for Derrick coming along. The man had been dealt a bad hand...or more accurately an entire deck of darkness. About time he got a break. The...former(?) assassin would figure things out. 

Like wrapping his head around a change of occupation and address all in one day. Oh yeah, and classification? Vampire? There wasn’t any quibbling about that terminology, not after what he’d seen. ...That and the fangs emerging all too easily with the thought of food. He was guessing his usual fare of oranges wasn’t going to cut it either. This strange thirst was beginning to press more insistently at his tolerance for hunger. He wasn’t sure how he felt about...drinking blood. Best to use this time to think it over. Or there’s what he should have done. Never mind! Avoidance it was then! 

.... 

Yeahhh...the reception was about as frigid as one might expect. 

But staring at those doors, seeing someone else answer them and feeling the finality in the sound of them closing behind...none of this may feel real yet, but it was starting to sink in. 

For once, Cal didn’t have a quip questioning the formality, or lack thereof, from the butler. Suppose when one’s a vampire, a few details such as tone weren’t worth quibbling over. Not that he could fault the man his frost. Definitely blaming any failing in the attempts at levity on distracting levels of thirst...and less on the array of Antarctic level temperatures being directed at the pair. Least he wasn’t so pitiful Derrick felt the need to put an arm on his shoulder...ah, never mind. Okay, so he waited till they were out of sight. Small mercies. No one followed them, seeming content to wait for dinner to begin the grilling. 

When Cal floated the suggestion he might take his meal in his room, the words faltered before being fully formed. Dude may have been a butler, but Sebastian could give the assassins a run for their money in the intimidation factor. Got it. No avoiding this. 

Didn’t seem to matter how good Cal was at hiding things, Derrick always saw through it. Annoying...and helpful. The bandages came off from around his rib cage, gnarly bruising explaining stiff movement. Course, Derrick was decked out with his own variety of colors as well. The two made quite the pair, each helping the other with clothes a bit restrictive for current predicaments, but they certainly looked a sight better than their former, somewhat tattered options. 

In the end, the jacket rounding off the outfit refused to stretch over the mountain’s shoulders, threatening to burst down the center seam if Derrick so much as flexed and it had to be left behind. Cal assured him this was just fine...and not to think about it too much. They’d be having more important things occupying their minds shortly anyway. 

.... 

The atmosphere at the table was one of downright hostility, though Comtesse’s appearance was enough to take nearly everyone’s breath away. Derrick had zero trouble catching names, though none of them outside of Napoleon and Jean were familiar to him. Generals and emperors were names that circulated the Citadel; a vague curiosity as to what was happening in the outside world frequently getting the better of him. The animosity didn’t phase him; being the focus of disdain and ridicule was his normal as well. A polite nod and unaffected smile greeted every member, whether returned or ignored. 

For Cal, despite a number of them being famous during or after this current time, they all rang bells. Though with the exception of Dazai, and admittedly the rest were very distant memories he hadn’t dredged up for over a decade. Lot of water under that bridge. And bodies. His expression was one of his typical jester’s grin, the nerves bunched up and singing with no place to go being tightly reigned in. She’d told the residents there was no harm to be done, but he knew rather personally how powerful a desire for vengeance tended to inspire people to action. 

Just maybe not at the dinner table? One can hope. 

“Right! Famous lads from history, eh? If I’d have known the great Napoleon Bonaparte was on the battlefield, I might’ve brought more darts! Course, I thought you’d be shorter an’ all. Inferno or not, you’re reasonably impressive!” 

Derrick could’ve groaned, however if he said he hadn’t anticipated this happening it would’ve been a lie. Leave it to Cal to get the elephant out of the way first thing. Scratch that, Cal would ride the elephant around the room whooping and hollering. 

“We are indebted to your graciousness for freeing us from that place, and accepting us into your home. It may be a moment before I can formulate questions, in the meantime if I can answer anything for you?” 

There were two conversations taking place, one, civilized and calm between Derrick, Comtesse, and whoever was listening to that particular discussion. The second consisting of Cal, Arthur, Theo, Napoleon, and Mozart...mostly in fortissimo. There was a hard glint in Cal’s emeralds, a closing down as he deflected queries calling into question his sanity, morals, and parenting. Shakespeare watched both conversations with avid interest, muttering things to himself while a smile played about his face. 

One thing stood out above the bickering, the scent of rouge putting a crease between Cal’s brows he wasn’t sure what to do with. “Your Comtesse was another job. There was nothing more to it. Take it as personally as you like, she’s important to ya.” (You don’t have the first possible inkling how many people I’ve killed who were important to someone.) That’s why he’d personally taken to not have anyone important to him. Till Derrick took that personal and became someone important. One day he’d recall how the frak that had happened...  ”All I’ve got to offer is my word. I won’t be raising a hand against her from here out. Same goes for any of you all either. Take it or leave it, that’s how it is.”

More of a promise than he’d ever given out before. Even Derrick hadn’t gotten that, understood or not. They both knew, in the Citadel you did what you had to. Avoiding being put in a bad situation was the only way to go; it was why no one had seen them together, let alone knew they were friends. 

The rouge was practically taunting him now. The smell was all too familiar, memories kept locked up tight creeping along the edges. Eat or wither away. Great options. His fangs and throat had specific ideas and didn’t like being ignored. Words dried up along with the inhibition. If he hadn’t have outed himself already, the reaction to his first conscious topping of blood would do it. Revulsion, not for the beverage ingested but for everything that peculiar scent of copper brought back with it, transformed his features from the devil-may-care rascal into a man haunted 

The smile turned fractured façade wouldn’t fool anyone. His question posed for la Comtesse was quiet, the din at the table keeping its animated dissection of actions taken pointedly ignored.

“However did you manage to wrangle a wormhole anyway, swee—Comtesse?”

[randbwrite]

La Comtesse Chronicles Chapter 5 Part 1

Words: 1561

TW: Death, violence, blood CW: vampires, assassins

R:

His blush at her calling him “luv” was quite satisfying. Smirk widened. He was quite cute like that, hmmm, strange feeling there. Maybe this is why Arthur had fun making the ladies blush? 

Her ears were good enough to be able to hear them while she dispatched their enemies. The banter between these two suggested they were rather good friends. Good, that would make the transition easier. Certainly, it would be some time before Cal was able to make friends with the residents at the mansion, given what he had done to her. Arthur would likely be the least forgiving of them all, since he had treated her wounds personally.

<<Yes, I am one. Figured out yet I haven’t exactly aged since you got here?>>

Ah, now there was the answer to a question she had. She had suspected as much but left such things to the proper time.  Good to know she was escorting two vampires rather than a human and newly sired vampire. Next question would be who his sire was, but that would have to wait. 

They made their way through the citadel, she dispatching anyone that stood in their way. Even in the council room, she had worked with surgical speed and accuracy. Now, they stood outside what remained of the assassin’s league. She turned around and listened intently to both of them.

<<You will have my unwavering loyalty for the rest of my life, this I swear.>>

“I thank thee for such an expression of devotion, brave sir knight. Remember though, I am no queen, my domain is but a small part of the world. And to answer your question, I can tell by the way you speak. I remember the courts of old.”

<<So dramatic! But yeah, what he said. Obviously, I don’t have an issue not fighting on the side of the angels, but if there were any such thing, I’d say you come the closest. Avenging angel, maybe.>>

Laughter, this time short and to the point, more like a scoff but without the derision. A somber tone and expression took hold. “You will learn soon enough that I am no angel, I have never deserved such admiration. An angel of death more than an avenging angel, darkness and despair is all that has followed me for hundreds of years. There is a reason that I am called to the battlefield, and it’s not to make the place art worthy. But, if you wish to think of me as such, I cannot stop you.” Gaze met his, eyes wavering, telling tales of old, death, and destruction, of unimaginable loss, all in an instance. 

She uncased her wings, slowly, her eyes glowing for a moment. “Time to go home.” Wings stretched and flapped a few times before she took off, the two of them flying right behind her via her abilities. 

Over the countryside they flew, the small lives of those below unable to be seen but able to be felt as their tiny figures moved about. Over rivers, forests, and ravines they flew still. A good time later a castle came into view, situated on a cliff, its defenses rivaled by few. 

Landing gently in front of two large doors, she glanced back at them both before knocking. Door creaked open to reveal a man dressed as a butler. 

“Ah, M. La Comtesse, glad to see you’ve finally arrived. I have dinner set for our newest gue-” He stopped, there were two men with her, not one. “M. la Comtesse? Two?” A slightly exasperated sigh. “A little warning next time would be nice. Now the dinner service will have to be adjusted. You are also late. Did something happen?”

A chuckle at his sass, something that she had found endearing over the years. “A few unexpected things happened, including bringing our second guest with me. He was in a predicament that I could not ignore.”

“Ah, very good. M. la Comtesse. I shall have a second room arranged immediately. You know, this reminds me of when you brought the Van Gogh brothers here. Are they brothers?”

“Not to my knowledge, though they banter like they are. Suppose you’ll have to ask them when you’re not pretending they aren’t right behind me. Can we move on? The smaller gentleman is in need of rouge.”

“Of course, M. la Comtesse.” It was then that Sebastian figured out that it was Cal who had done the unthinkable to his mistress. Though he hid his displeasure well from her in tone, the look he gave Cal was as cold and furious as a blizzard. “Might I have their names?”

“Oh, sorry… the larger gentleman is named Derrick, the smaller is called Rapscallion, though he also seems to go by Cal.” She stepped past Sebastian to be met by the prying eyes of the castle residents. “Good evening everyone.” She motioned at their new guests, “These two, Derrick and Cal, will be living here from now on. No harm should come to either of them, or you’ll be answering to me personally. Now, can we have a normal dinner, please? It’s been a long day.”

A few more steps into the castle and she faltered. A grunt and she began to fall, only to be caught by Arthur. “Now, luv, what have I said about overexerting yourself?”

“Mmmmm, I don’t need a lecture now….” Her wings went back into her back and she began to breathe heavily. 

Quietly, he spoke to her, “You know, dove, you didn’t need to bring him back here, let alone two. Seems like it may not have been worth the effort.” Arthur shot both men a look, his eyes showing of his vampiric rage. All that left him as he picked her up and carried her off. 

“Apologies gentlemen, introductions of your fellow residents shall have to wait till dinner itself.” Sebastian chimed in, “My name is Sebastian. I am the head of staff here and am the butler that serves M. la Comtesse personally. Now, let’s get you two cleaned up so you are presentable. Can’t have you dressed like that for dinner with everyone.”

He ushered them both to where they could bathe and get their choice of finer clothing. 

……

“What happened out there, luv?” Arthur inquired, his eyes looking over her exhausted figure. 

“I’m not used to having to carry so much weight with my powers for so long. Seems I need to train more. Not used to flying while using my powers either. The battlefield usually doesn’t call for use of my wings. I had been planning on just carrying back one, not two.”

“And why are there two? Who do we need to watch out for…. Who…. who did those horrible things to you?”

“Ask Jean, I’d rather not tell everyone so as to give them a chance to make their own impressions.”

“Ever the mystery with you, luv. What am I ever to do with you, hmm?”

She scoffed, “Suppose you’ll stay with me, as you always have. I’ll be fine Arthur, I’m just tired. It’s been a long day.”

“Mmmm, the blood on your clothes tell enough of the tale.”

Eyebrows quirked, “Damn, guess I wasn’t as focused as I usually am. Apologies to Sebastian and the staff.”

“Get some rest and change, maybe take a bath. Till dinner then, luv.” With that, Arthur left her alone, all the while hatching a plan to figure out which of the two had tried to kill their beloved Comtesse. 

…...

Having scrubbed all the blood off her, a bath had felt refreshing, especially for her sore wing muscles. Sheesh, that was a long flight. Ah, yes, dinner. Time to look nice and make pleasantries. This was going to be interesting. Never before had she brought anyone to the mansion with as much issue with the other residents. Even Theo, resident tsundere, or Mozart, resident grump had been this much of an issue. She only hoped her warning not to harm them would stick. Didn’t mean they had to accept them, or be nice for that matter. Oy vey this was a mess. 

…...

Heels clicked on the hard floor as she entered the dining room. Starry dress flowed with each movement, it looking like it was the sky just as the sun had decided to finally sleep. Everyone seated now rose to greet her. Sebastian pushed in the chair with her as she sat down, ever the lady of elegance. A soft smile graced her lips as she raised a glass of rouge, “Welcome, Derrick and Cal. Introductions are in order, so I shall go around the table.”

Taking a sip from the glass, she set it down. “Derrick, to your left going ‘round the table we have, William Shakespeare, Vincent Van Gogh, Theo Van Gogh, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Napoleon Bonapart, Isaac Newton, Leonardo da Vinci, Dazai, Jean de Arc, and Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart is to your right Cal. And yes, these are the actual men of their namesakes. I specialize in bringing back people from history to help with current predicaments. Gentlemen, please enjoy dinner. I can now also take any of your questions, as promised before we left that accursed place.”

Glares ‘round the table were at both Cal and Derrick, but no one said anything to them, they all starting to chatter among themselves.

[randbwrite]

La Comtesse Chronicles Chapter 4 Part 3

Words:1179

TW: Death, Graphic Violence, Blood CW: Vampires, Assassins

B: Her use of a term of endearment had Cal turning several shades of coral, a curious expression crossing his face, one neither were used to seeing...or feeling...on him. What’s this, someone’s feeling bashful? Would certainly make for good teasing material later, Derrick tucking away the information as ammunition for payback. About time someone could affect his friend like that. All the painted ladies of the court had never gotten that reaction out of the supposedly scurrilous assassin. 

Things turned serious much more quickly from then on. This “Comtesse” called Cal a young man and he was again feeling like a lad being reprimanded by his schoolmarm, something he’d left behind ages ago...in the future. Oy, this difference in years was going to take some getting used to. Speaking of, Mr. Nothing Can Bother Me About This Whole Affair. Yes...long name. But called for, given the circumstances. One floating and the other walking behind, Cal had some questions for his buddy. Like, a lot of them. Especially while he tried to pretend watching Ernest and Armand being tossed around like rag dolls was an everyday occurrence.

“So...anything you wanna tell me?” 

“Like what? M. la Comtesse said questions would wait till we were out of here.” 

“Questions for her. You on the other hand have some answering to do.” Cal paused for a breath and gawped at fire spreading over an invisible shield. CGI could only hope to capture the incredible show he was watching. “How much of this were you already aware of?” He gestured broadly at the display, shuddering involuntarily, recognizing the snap of a man’s mind broken.

Derrick’s eyes never left the scene playing out; knowing exactly how both elements played out when combating for dominance and being caught in the crossfire. Being invulnerable and watching someone else at the mercy of one stronger was...a unique experience. Give it enough time, they’d have exhausted each other before one won out. The same sire, no particular style or finesse bothered to be learned, neither had a leg up. Soon it was over, permanently.

“All of it.” 

He could list every ability the Citadel full of assassins carried and which ones didn’t have any. He knew their limitations, their quirks. Watched them spar, experiment, seen the aftermath of things they’d thought to keep secret. Cal didn’t need more of an explanation than that, knew well enough by the dearth of questions. To cut off the one his friend for once was trying to decide how to phrase diplomatically, he did Cal a favor and answered it anyway. 

“Yes, I am one. Figured out yet I haven’t exactly aged since you got here?” 

“Naw, assumed you were one of those blokes with great genes. This makes more sense I guess. ...Thanks.”

A look exchanged the words that went unsaid. Gratitude for keeping an eye out for him, in ways Cal hadn’t been aware could’ve been an issue, fishing his sorry behind out of a battlefield, whole lotta things that wouldn’t be spoken aloud. 

That was all they had time for, as the dreaded doors all too many had walked through and met a gruesome end were right in front of them. Cal’s fight or flight was kicking back in, self-preservation typically meaning staying as far away from these chambers as possible unless unequivocally summoned. His poker face wouldn’t reveal it, but the lack of his signature grin told all. 

Derrick might as well have been carved from stone. He’d never once entered these chambers, instead experienced with each and every member on the council under different circumstances. Still, with every confidence in la Comtesse, he paced after her, head held high before them for the first time in centuries. They wouldn’t be forcing him to take a knee, not today. 

Whatever they’d expected to happen, neither of the pair accompanying the pure blood could have anticipated what she did next.

Would seem none of the assassins did either for that matter, which was almost more surprising. Centuries-old tacticians, strategists, generals, and rulers, people who held the whole of Europe in their merciless thrall, and together they proved defenseless against the fury of Comtesse.

Silence had greeted them upon their entry, and silence reigned in their absence. Shock? Plotting? Acceptance? ...All of the above? The council had known going after her was risky, but perhaps had become too complacent in their invincible dynasty of power. She had unequivocally proven them wrong. 

No one would mourn their leader’s fall. Hyenas had more respect for the dead than would be shown a man who’s tenure had sown nothing but fear and contempt. He had until Comtesse and company left the Citadel’s gates before an eternal vengeance began. Never again would his name bring fear into the hearts of those who heard it. The threats promised died with his enhanced abilities. 

The halls were abandoned, any echoes purely in the imagination of the ones remembering. The foyer too, devoid of life. If not the bodies of their fallen comrades, then the spectacle witnessed in the council room deterred any from considering an approach. 

The pair offered new life did not hesitate. There was nothing about their past that could have any hold on them and...hey, the one person who had treated them with a speck of decency had given invitation. Even though she was also downright terrifying. It didn’t seem real, despite everything pointing to the obvious conclusion. How could it be anything but? Imagination had never conceptualized this outcome. However, it may take time before the implication, the reality of it all sank in. Course, seeing the leader who was the symbol of their subjugation to the Assassin’s League dethroned certainly solidified the situation. 

Their answer was a unified yes. Though phrased differently. 

“You will have my unwavering loyalty for the rest of my life, this I swear.” 

“So dramatic! But yeah, what he said. Obviously, I don’t have an issue not fighting on the side of the angels, but if there were any such thing I’d say you come the closest. Avenging angel, maybe.” 

Cal bounced on the balls of his feet, ever antsy. Better look on him than the lethargy from earlier; the waxen sheen was a mite bit concerning, however. Contrarily, an aura of tranquility radiated off of Derrick, relief hanging around shoulders pulled back as if freed from some oppressive weight. It was at him that Cal was caught gawking this time, though the typical crazy grin was soon to replace it. Aww and here he’d promised he wouldn’t get emotional. Not sure when, but eh. 

“Guess you’re stuck with us, Lady Comtesse. To the ends of the earth and back, if this one’s beatific mug is any indication.” 

A thumb was jerked in Derrick’s direction, only to have surprise replace the scamp’s cocky expression. Derrick used his enhanced reflexes to catch and muss up Cal’s already wild tangle into a rat’s nest, the pair behaving as bickering brothers do. Where’d he been hiding that speed?!? Ach...so much to learn.

[randbwrite]

La Comtesse Chronicles Chapter 4 Part 2

Words: 1592

TW: Blood, death, graphic violence CW: Vampires, assassin

R:

<<So...I’m a superhero! Yahoooo that’s sweet!!>>

Her laughter pealed through the room again. My, this was a strange one.

“Well, if you wish to conceptualize it that way, I suppose there’s no harm in it. You’re like a combination between Spiderman and either the Flash or Nightcrawler. Suppose we will see in due time.”

The red-haired scamp tried to play off that he was comfortable at the moment, with his position as he floated. Tempted to make him drop to see how much he was really freaking out, but she held off. She could see through that in an instant, but she would play along. Better than him outwardly freaking out. That would be quite troublesome. Ah well, not that she hadn’t dealt with people freaking out at her before.

<<Does that mean I’m an X-Men now? Ohhhh hey! You’re totally Professor X! Except way hotter. Hey, Derrick ol’ boy, don’t give me that look! You’ve gotta be thinking it too. Oh right, I forgot. You’d use words like, ‘Her elegance and pulchritude are unrivaled by anything my eyes have beheld before, or will hence.’ Am I right?>>

More laughter. This one was quite the card. And now the two bantered. A wide smile accompanied by a few chortles. Well, they would certainly make the castle more lively, once the other residents accepted them that is. 

“Hmmmm, hotter Professor X, hadn’t ever thought of it that way, but yes, from your perspective, that is a rather good description.” All this said without batting an eye. “I do have all of the powers he has, except I have the additional abilities a pure blood has. Super speed, strength, plus healing. Makes me a bit scary…. According to others anyway. I do have a house full of other people with abilities, so yes, I’m exactly like Professor X. Suppose that would make you an X-man.”

<<Hold up hold up. You have got a lotta names, sweets. Is there one you prefer to go by? Also, do ya really mean it? I— I can go with you? You-you’re not going to leave me here?>>

“Sweets?” Oh, that got quite the eyebrow raise. “Most call me Comtesse. I suggest you stick with that till I tell you otherwise, lest you really want to play with fire, luv.” A wink and a smirk later, laughter rang out. Taking a page out of Arthur’s book was more fun than she had imagined, at least with the nickname. Let’s see if he can handle a woman who can hold her own. 

But, his question deserved an answer in all seriousness. A sigh and a nod later she spoke clearly, “No, I won’t leave you here. I sired you, accidentally or not; that means that I am responsible for you now. I will not let someone that is my responsibility live in such conditions. It’s unconscionable. My home will be your home, you will be safe. You need not kill anyone ever again unless you have a desire to join me on the battlefield. The residents of my castle live in peace to pursue what they like. You’ll see soon enough. I’m taking this as your decision, so yes, you are coming with me, as is your friend, assuming he has the same answer.”

<<How do you propose we get out of here? Nearest window? Need a bodyguard? I know I don’t look like much right now, and you can float an’ all, but there’s gonna be a whole passel of people ticked off you’ve invaded their home.>>

“You underestimate me, young man. I know exactly how we are getting out of here. I’m not worried about the rats that are scurrying around, especially since they are running upon seeing me. Ask your friend, though I suppose you will see soon enough. In your current state, you are more of a liability than an asset. I have some unfinished business here. No one, and I mean no one, sends someone to kill me and leaves with it unanswered.” The last bit came out as a growl. Anger began to emanate again, her mind focusing on the events of late. “Enough talk, for now, you can ask me anything you like once we are home.”

With that, she took Derrick’s hand and led both of them, one of them floating, down the halls. Cal was right, there were those who now had the gumption to try to attack her. Bad idea. Her shoes clicked against the hard floor before two assassins flew down from the ceiling. She looked up and sighed, they now suspended midair above them. She clicked her tongue several times before shaking her head.

“None of you ever learn. Time to sit for a bit Cal….” Gently, Cal was set on the floor. The two assassins struggling midair was quite a comical sight, they both looking as if they were trying to either swim through the air or attack it. They now catapulted up to the ceiling then back to the floor several times, as if someone were grabbing them by the legs and throwing them between the two. They were left on the floor groaning, their weapons now floating. More came down the hall, fangs bared. Another loud sigh and the daggers went barreling down the hall fast as a bullet. Some landed in the chest, no doubt piercing their hearts, the others struck them in the heads. Several loud thuds later and the hallway was again quiet.

“See, nothing to worry about. Now… to that unfinished business of mine…”

Another hallway, more vampire assassins. This was getting old. The hallway filled with fire and the floors were coated in ice. She glanced back at Cal and Derrick before stepping forward, her boot causing a huge crack to travel along the ice. She waved her hand and the fire parted, the two vampires on the other side had their eyes wide as saucers. “Now that’s what I call hot.” A deep chuckle rang out, as one sprinted forward, fire spewing in her direction. 

She held up her hand and it was as if she had an invisible force field in front of her, the fire moving around it. “My turn….” She snapped her fingers, and it was as if the snap signaled his sanity to rip in two. A battle broke out between the two vampires, fire and ice spewing all over the hall. Slowly, she made her way to them, the field around her deflecting any ice and fire that may have hit her otherwise. 

Her voice, now a low thunder, “Stop.” They both obeyed. Daggers swiftly taken from each side of her hip, they plunged upwards into each of their chests. Daggers taken out, throats slit, the whole movement taking place in a blink of an eye. Both hit the floor in unison, their blood dying the ice crimson.

Taking both their hands now, she led them to the council chamber. Any assassins encountered on the way were pushed aside or dispatched with ease. She let go of their hands as they reached the doors. She knocked and there was no answer. Rumble of a laugh later, she touched the doors, which promptly flew off their hinges and crashed into the room. Assassins flinched, eyes wavering but unable to look away, though their expressions showed nothing. 

“Now, which of you delightful people ordered my killing, hmm?” The steel of her voice, the sheer ice in it sent several of the members shuddering. They all just stared down at her. “Fine then, leadership is always responsible for the orders. We had an agreement, I leave you alone, you leave me alone. What on earth possessed you to break it, I haven’t a clue. But surely you didn’t think all you would get was a strongly worded letter from the sweet socialite Comtesse, hmm? No, no. There is a price for everything, and this one will be quite steep.” 

She pointed at the head of the league. “Let this be a lesson to you and all those who would think of coming after me or my residents. By the way, these two belong to me now. If any of you even think of harming them I will come and slaughter the lot of you, and I won’t be alone.”

Two fine daggers came off her sides and floated in front of her for just a moment. Just then they rocketed at the head of the assassin’s league. Super speed employed, he ducked, flipped, and landed in front of her. His own sword raised, it looked like he would be slicing her in twain, that was till a “thunk” was heard. His eyes went wide before the other dagger stuck into the front of his head, twisting and circling around to take the top of his head off. The body hit the floor with a thud, crimson blooming below him. 

“I was just going to kill you, but the fate I just bestowed is far better in my opinion. Enjoy an eternity as one with no special abilities would.” Gasps filled the room as she retrieved her daggers. Taking Derrick and Cal’s hands again, she walked with them out the doors of the council room, her footsteps echoing where screams should have been. 

Soon they passed through the remnants of the front doors, she now stopping and turning around to look at them. “Last chance to stay, gentlemen. After this, you both will be in my care for the rest of your lives, for better or worse.”

[randbwrite]

La Comtesse Chronicles Chapter 4 Part 1

Words: 1649

TW: None CW: Vampires

R:

A bow went to Comtesse for her compliment made. There was certainly more to him than would meet the eye, as Cal had found out firsthand. Several times over, now, the two of them locked eyes and all of the questions burning bright in emerald eyes settled at last. Heh, for the moment. He could see a build up of new ones coming, something Cal almost never seemed to run out of. That and jokes.

Eyes widened as he tumbled off the rafter, only to have one of his hands stuck to a wooden support beam. Cringing as she heard him scream, she looked him over as he spoke.

<<Afraid killin' ya was a one-time deal, ma'am. You'll find me as harmless as a lamb. Oy, Derrick! Tell me you’re seeing this too? Even if you’re not, humor me. Please?>> 

"Well then, suppose that means I can take you out of here alive. Now, let go." Her eyes flashed as she floated up to him, gently catching him in her arms. The power of persuasion was something all pure bloods had, though she rarely needed to use it. It was called for here, as he likely had no idea of how to use his powers. A laugh left her as she held onto him and began to slowly float down towards Derrick.

“Ah, so that’s his name. Glad to meet you, Derrick. Cal, my name is Rosaline Arcanum, though I suppose you know that already. I’m a pure blood vampire. It would appear that I accidentally sired you on the battlefield. Seems you are already exhibiting powers. Never seen anyone with the ability to hold onto things like that before. Suppose there’s a first for everything. Reminds me a bit of Spiderman. Suppose you might be at this point, minus the whole web shooting thing.”

Shoes clicked on the marble floor, yet she left him suspended in the air just about a foot above the floor. “Let’s take a look at you, shall we?” Eyes roved over his form before she tenderly touched his hand. Eyes glowed for a second and it flashed in her mind: more recent memories of what had been taking place. 

Glancing at Derrick, she spoke quietly, “Thank you for keeping him alive. Rare to see someone know what to do with a newly turned vampire. Though, I imagine you know a fair bit more than first impressions give rise to.” 

Turning her gaze back to Rapscallion, she sighed, “I’m going to lay this out for you. Apologies if it upsets you or makes you question your sanity any more than you already have. You were exposed to my blood on the battlefield. This is why you are still alive, as no normal mortal could have survived the injuries I gave you. The reason that I’m still alive is because of what I am. It’s almost impossible to kill one of my kind, though I have done it, and will again if it’s called for. 

Vampires, both pure bloods, and lesser vampires, such as yourself, develop specific abilities. Yours seems to be grabbing onto things with just your skin, and…. The other is a bit difficult to discern. It’s hard to tell from your memories if it’s super speed or if you are teleporting, but either way, you are ending up places you shouldn’t be. Suppose you will figure it out eventually. One of the powers I possess is telekinesis, hence why I can float or fly, and is why you are still swimming in the air presently. I’m also a telepath, so I can basically get into your head and see what I want to… for the most part. I only saw the most recent things out of respect and to deal with things as quickly as possible. 

Now, you, as a lesser vampire have a choice. You can start drinking blood to live, or you can wither away and die. You haven’t healed yet because you haven’t fed. The other choice you have here is whether you will leave this place with me. No harm will come to you if you decide to come live in my castle with me, though the residents probably aren’t too thrilled with this prospect. Or, you are welcome to stay here. You have till we get to what remains of the front doors to decide. And by the way, your friend can see this perfectly fine, just seems to not be phased by it from what I can tell.” Her laughter rang out and echoed through the space, the vaulted ceilings serving as the best acoustics. 

B: Derrick:

Derrick watched, impassive through the fall, the nudge of mind and manipulation of matter, her explanation fitting with what he knew so far. What was of more interest was noting how Cal took it all. Had he not been supported via telekinesis, the red head would’ve needed to sit down. Or fallen, a second time. He’d flinched, a momentary tick of a muscle in his jaw the only tell, but Derrick knew. Involuntary touch had never been a kindness. It was this time, and he wished so badly to tell him that...however some things could only be learned through personal experience. 

“So...I’m a superhero! Yahoooo that’s sweet!!” 

Out of all the reactions one might’ve expected...that wasn’t on the list. Superhero? What was that? Cal had better not be pulling phrases from his hometown for 400 again. Yes, Derrick’s picked up a few. This must mean Cal’s survival mechanisms were back up and running again. That was good. They’d have to discuss the humane sourcing of human blood so he wouldn’t be internally freaking out all the while with that same silly smile on his face. Derrick had gotten good at seeing the small tells, but that didn’t mean he’d catch everything.

Rapscallion:

Spiderman?! How does she know about Spiderman!?? Too cool!!! There was definitely some internal happy dancing going on, external movement forgone for some deep thinking. The reference was kind of like a reboot, reviving the part of him that was the kid who always caused trouble, trying to bring about a laugh. And my but she had some beautiful laughter! He couldn’t remember the last time he’d heard such lovely peals resounding in these blood-soaked halls.

Yeah, he’d focus on that and let the other stuff percolate for a sec. Testing out the extent of this hold seemed like a lotta fun too! He sat, finding it comfortable to hover in a kicked back position with one leg crossed over the other, fingers folded in his lap. Totally not trying to hide how they were trembling or anything. Fight or flight response; a difficult thing when it’s not actionable and can’t be switched off. 

“Does that mean I’m an X-Men now? Ohhhh hey! You’re totally Professor X! Except way hotter. Hey, Derrick ol’ boy, don’t give me that look! You’ve gotta be thinking it too. Oh right, I forgot. You’d use words like, ‘Her elegance and pulchritude are unrivaled by anything my eyes have beheld before, or will hence.’ Am I right?” 

Cal was lost to a laughing fit, great way to let off nervous energy, while Derrick raised an amused eyebrow...trying unsuccessfully to remain impassive. 

“Just because some of us have class...”

“Who’re you calling uncivilized?” 

“If the boot fits?” 

“I’ll show you just where this boot fits, you overgrown Boy Scout!” 

The banter between the two was that of old friends, though before now that would not have been a title they’d have flaunted. Which reminded him—before Derrick could get in another repartee, Cal was off with a question. 

“Hold up hold up. You have got a lotta names, sweets. Is there one you prefer to go by? Also, do ya really mean it? I—,“ he swallowed thickly, a vulnerable expression no one had seen on Cal’s face since he was a lad...or sleeping, though Derrick would never speak of it...not quite being shuttered quickly enough to be missed. “I can go with you? You-you’re not going to leave me here?” 

And he was back to the boy, remembering the day he’d first walked into the Citadel and discovering there was no way out. Not permanently. Would transforming into a kickass superhero by the supreme X-...er, Woman do the trick? Was she bluffing? Another overly confident royal who had it in their head they could defy the assassins? Derrick seemed to believe her, and that usually took some doing. Course he was also making gaga eyes at her, so his judgement might be suspect, but seeing as how Derrick had never looked at a woman that way...least far as Cal knew...maybe there was something real there. Not just another cruel joke.

It was a gamble, or seemed to be. But after the last week? Er...make that over a decade...it was one he was willing to take. Besides! “Shouldn’t let the big guy out of my sight anyway, always getting himself into trouble, he is.” 

Technically that was true of both of them. Derrick sticking his neck out for people he shouldn’t, even those around the Citadel who refused to see him as a human being, and Cal, constantly stirring things up...for good or bad. 

“How do you propose we get out of here? Nearest window? Need a bodyguard? I know I don’t look like much right now, and you can float an’ all, but there’s gonna be a whole passel of people ticked off you’ve invaded their home.” 

The glance at Derrick revealed the man still didn’t look perturbed. Amused, yes. Pensive or concerned, not even the slightest. Okay, so...vampires, floaty people, an entire Citadel full of assassins, and nothing was bothering him? Sheesh, he’d like to know where the man found his chill. Again, vampires?!? Course, this one was really hot...

[randbwrite]

La Comtesse Chronicles Chapter 3 Part 3

Art by @nae812​

Words: 1084

TW: dehumanization CW: assassin, vampires

R:

The mountain of a man came down from what he was cleaning and spoke. Odd. He seemed as if he wasn't afraid of her. She, death incarnate, was not enough to scare him. Either he had seen far worse than her, or he had accepted death long ago.

He never seemed to look at her, something else she found quite strange. Before she could speak, she heard an "Eep!" She couldn't help but laugh, her eyes darting to the assassin now running down the hall. Raising her hand, she used her powers to push the poor sod out of the way and further down the hall, which only made them slip, yelp, and scurry away faster. 

Now that their interruption had been dealt with, she looked over the man before her. Bruises told a story of pain he had endured here. The aura of death dropped for a moment, her heart aching for this person before her.

She began to float upwards so that their eyes could meet. Her hand stretched out, it gently lifting his chin to have his gaze meet hers. Searching his eyes, her own wavered. Fingers tenderly found the bruise on his cheek, what happened to him flashing in her mind.

Soft voice left her, "You don't belong here anymore than he does now. Come with me and I'll make sure you never get treated this way again. Stay, and continue being a punching bag, if you have a desire for it. Your choice. Make your decision before I leave this place with Cal. They won't come to my home; they would be suicidal to. No one deserves to live like this, least of all someone with a heart like yours, from what I can tell."

She floated down till her shoes clicked against the well-polished floor, their immense height difference now apparent. Small smile graced her lips before she took his hand and began walking towards where he had told her she could find Cal.

.....

Searching the windowsills proved fruitless, so they made their way to the place where the rafters were. Ah, there he was.

"Wait here." She instructed Derrick, though she didn't know his name. The aura of anger came back as the memory of the battlefield flooded her senses.

She shot upwards to where Rapscallion was sleeping. Eyes shone a lavender glow as she looked over the peaceful, or mostly peaceful man. The hard part of this was not killing him right this instance for daring to try to kill her. But, she knew better than anyone that he was likely just following orders, she just his latest mark. No, the person who had ordered this would pay dearly for going through with this abomination of a plan.

Now though, she needed to focus. Ever the controlled one, she spoke clearly, sternly, yet not full of the rage she was feeling. "Cal.... time to wake up and face your sire. I'm not here to kill you unless you insist on trying to kill me... again."

B:

Love at first sight was a thing for sighing teenagers, young ones who could daydream about romance and didn’t have to wonder who their parents had arranged for them to marry at birth. Or...just about anyone who hadn’t led the sort of life he had. Beaten, broken and made anew more times than he cared to count...and the first act of kindness he’d been shown made an instant friend. That was Cal.

This woman...her delicate touch conveyed by a hand too gentle by far to be used on him...his heart stirred with feelings he’d almost forgotten the very name of. Almost, but not quite. And they didn’t belong, shouldn’t remain. Hope, among them.

As she took him by the hand, he knew for a certainty. He would follow her anywhere.

....

The windows had seemed the most likely option, as Cal’s climbing and balance had taken a marked decline of late, but he wouldn’t be found there. However he’d done it, the assassin was situated in the middle of a rafter’s support; a familiar skein of coppery colored hair being warmed in the golden glow of sunlight. His face was one of peaceful repose, but the white knuckled fists crossed protectively over his chest hinted at the truth. Even in sleep, he had found no respite from what troubled his waking hours.

<<Wait here.>>

No worries there. He wouldn’t be getting between the two of them for anything. Sorry, bud, but there are some things a man has to face on his own.

Angry pure blood? Top of the list.

....

Cal awoke with a start, instantly recognizing the voice he’d only ever heard once, and that inside his head, but it required a moment before he would believe it truly was her...and not another figment of his imagination. She’d been haunting his every thought for a week now after all. Before she’d finished speaking, the fog had lifted from his mind and his reactions finally kicked in.

With an, “Oh frak-sugar-nope!!” he went tumbling off the rafter. Or he would have, except for one of his hands choosing that timing to inconveniently attach itself to the wooden support. The world was a blinding explosion of pain as sore muscle and bone were unexpectedly stretched, his scream echoing throughout the vaulted chamber’s ceiling. Bad idea bad idea bad idea—as if falling from such a height would be any better—!

Gasping like a fish caught on the end of a line, he waded through the extreme sensations to arrive at coherent thought again. A tiny waggle from the fingers free, and he managed to wrangle a grimace tiny smirk. “Afraid killin’ ya was a one time deal, ma’am. You’ll find me to be as harmless as a lamb.”

Sure, make a joke at a time like this. Best he could do though, seeing as how someone who should’ve very most definitely have been dead was unequivocally alive. Oh, and floating. Three stories above the ground, and this time...not on a battlefield.

“Oy, Derrick! Tell me you’re seeing this too? Even if you’re not, humor me. Please?”

That had to have been one of the first times he’d ever said please to Derrick. Polite conversation just didn’t happen between the two, and despite the faint lilt and incessant habit making everything he said sound like he was teasing, the expression on Cal’s face was almost desperate, waiting to hear on which side of the blade his mental soundness would fall.

[randbwrite]

La Comtesse Chronicles Chapter 3 Part 2

Words: 651

TW: Blood, dehumanization CW: Vampires, Assassins

B:

It was your average afternoon. Assassins being demanding and Cal being worrisome, cat napping somewhere as usual. Except he’d been doing that more often lately, likely running low on energy. Normally he’d have set three elaborate traps in the week’s time, but since he’d been back...nothing. Which was causing more worry for Derrick than when he’d been stirring up trouble. It was giving the other assassins time to think up their own devious revenge plots and become bored.

He’d forgotten how...different things were before Cal. If he died, Derrick would be losing more than a friend.

Sounds of running reached his ears, which under normal circumstances shouldn’t have been possible. The assassins prided themselves on their silence, often requiring it to get around the Citadel in peace. But not so today. The rapidity with which they scattered every which way was a never before seen event. It would probably be smart to follow their example and make himself scarce, but he wasn’t often one to blindly jump.

Instead, he smirked to himself, the rise of muscles stretching the bruise on his cheek. Assassins with nothing better to do were a bad idea. Well, they certainly weren’t bored now! He stretched to reach the top of a winged statue, however they got blood all the way up here he didn’t want to know and his ribs creaked in protest. Sparring usually involved two people fighting, learning, and defending. Punching bags on the other hand didn’t fare so well.

Now if only Cal would find his grasp on reality and distract them again...

Mmph. Or not. He may have his hands full with someone else.

Upon the sound of a voice, Derrick disengaged from battling spatter to bow at the source of his hosts’ consternation. “This time of day, the one you seek is either in the second expansion, third floor, taking repose in the windowsill nearest the roof, or in the fifth wing, whichever rafter is currently warm but not directly in the sun.”

A pause, then, “Might I suggest? If you wish to wake him, being prepared for a self defense system of sorts to activate. Or you could call him by the name Cal. It would seem to deactivate the more deadly responses. Nothing personal, or so I’ve been told.”

His head never raised, eyes having once swept her person on their way to the floor remained glued there in a show of respect. It didn’t matter who one was dealing with, that was the safest way to go. If his assumptions were correct, and he had no reason to think otherwise, then this woman was the source of the assassins’ excess perturbation. The one whom his friend had been sent to kill, and one of the only people to have survived such an encounter.

All in all, a very intriguing lady he’d unfortunately not have the pleasure of making further acquaintance with.

Though he was for once dressed in a shirt that was free of rips or patches, it didn’t speak to status or acclaim. The stains and dirt were things no self-respecting assassin would wear; their pets put to use as laundry maids, or the actual maids seeing to it they were always carefully dressed. It was useful for blending in with the general populace, drummed into them from early training not to be slobs and easily tracked through less than tidy habits.

A faint, “Eep!” made it to Derrick’s ears, or was that the squeak of a shoe too quickly scuffed on recently waxed floors? He did enjoy shining them and listening to the assassins attempt to tread softly on those. He couldn’t help himself: the briefest hints of amusement quirked his lips up and laughter built in his chest. He’d remember this day for a long time to come, when at last he’d seen someone who could cause more disturbance to these self-aggrandizing shadows than Rapscallion.

[randbwrite]

La Comtesse Chronicles Chapter 3 Part 1

Words: 1157

TW: Violence, Death CW: Vampires

R:

A gasp of a breath, and her eyes fluttered open. How long it had been, she had no idea. A warm hand in hers, one she followed up to the sleeping face of Vincent, resident angel. A small laugh from her and then a voice she knew well.

“Comtesse?” Blue eyes and hair looked over her and she smiled softly.

“Yes, Arthur, I’m alive…. barely. Had he done this to my head I wouldn’t be here now.” The thought of her would-be-assassin came back in a flood. There was only one organization that would have had such a well-trained person come after her. It was then that she felt the pull. She paused, as if someone had tugged on her sleeve to get her attention. There was another she was responsible for now. “Fuck….”

“What is it? Comtesse? Are you? What do you need?”

“I need to heal. We have another that is destined to haunt these halls, sired on the battlefield, I can feel it.”

“Oh, another brother or sister? I can’t wait to get to know them.” The angel awoke, rubbing his eyes, smiling sunshine.

The picture of him in the halls of the assassin’s league came into focus now. A name, she had his name, as she did when she sired anyone: Rapscallion.  “No… I’m sure this one won’t be welcome…. He’s the one who did this to me.”

Arthur and Vincent glanced at one another, one wearing a scowl, the other a look of regret.

Closing her eyes, she focused. Just how gravely injured was she? Heart was beating now, it healed. Ah, the powers of being a pure blood, something she was grateful for at the moment. The slit across her throat, closed, even the scabs gone. It seemed that she was no worse for wear, though she felt awful. She needed to feed; blood would help restore the rest.

“Arthur, get Sebastian and some rouge please. I have much to discuss with him.”

Footsteps away, the pads treading quickly.

“Comtesse?” Vincent’s sweet voice inquired.

“Hmmm?” She squeezed his hand tenderly.

“The one who did this to you, he’s going to come live here?”

“That depends. He might try to kill me again, in which case, no. Either way, I need to find him.”

……

Several hours later the castle was abuzz with the news that Comtesse had awoken and was doing much better. More than that though, was the revelation that they were to have someone new come to the castle, though exactly who was quite the sore spot.

“Absolutely not! No one that has tried to kill Comtesse can be allowed to live in these halls!” Theo roared as soon as Vincent had told him the news.

“Theo…. That’s not for us to decide… but I agree. I don’t want anyone to hurt her.” Vincent sighed.

“How can she even be thinking of such a thing?” Leonardo chimed in, having half a mind to go talk some sense into her.

The door to the dining room opened, with Arthur holding onto her arm; Comtesse took a seat at the table. “Sounds like none of you approve of what must be done. I never said that I would bring him here if he was still of the mind to kill me. If he so much as puts one finger on me in aggression, I swear to you all that there will be nothing left of him to bury. Does that ease your minds?”

“I rather like the idea of you just leaving the bloke and staying here till I know you’re fully healed.” Arthur interjected.

“Arthur, I’m fine. Not feeling completely my best, but that’s probably due to how long I’ve been asleep. Not normal for me to be bedridden for nearly a week. Give me a day more and another decanter of rouge or two and I’ll be just fine. I understand your feelings on the matter, but it is my duty as a pure blood and a sire to at least go find him. The rest will be up to him. Besides, I need to go pay the assassins a visit.” The last sentence was said with a rumble of rage in her throat. Her eyes shone for a moment and the room grew quiet. “I leave tomorrow to get him. I promise I’ll be back, but I make no promises as per if I will be bringing him with me.”

…….

The next morning, Comtesse left the mansion, carrying nothing, not that she needed to. She was far more dangerous if she was relying on her powers. Boots clicked against the hard floor and quickened as she made her way through the foyer.

“We shall all eagerly await your return, Comtesse.” Sebastian stated in a farewell before he opened the door for her.

“Thank you. Please have a room prepared for a potential guest.” She was met with a momentary scowl, but she paid it no mind. Off she went. Uncasing her wings, she knew she was in for a flight to get to where she needed to go. The citadel where the assassins’ all lived was not an easy place to get to, not that many would willingly go there.

Up and up she went, her wings flapping quickly till she made it into the clouds. The cool air flowing over her wings, the breeze carding through her hair. It was exhilarating for her, though her destination wasn’t. The one good thing about traveling like this was that no one was likely to see her, since aircraft hadn’t been invented yet. Ah, that was something she was going to miss once planes took to the skies. Back to the present though, the citadel soon stretched before her.

She landed just in front of the large black door that served as the entrance. The air was tense, the atmosphere eerie. A smirk took hold of her lips before she put her wings away. Rage, pure and unadulterated, began to emanate from her. One deep breath and she started to float upwards. “Move.” She commanded and the doors burst forth off their hinges and crashed into the halls, causing a cacophony of sound to echo through the fortress.

“I am here to take that which is mine. Stand in my way and you will meet your maker.” The growl emanated unnatural power and ferociousness the likes of which most of the assassins hadn’t seen. They scattered, running every which way to avoid doom incarnate that was now floating through their halls.

She searched the halls, the walls, the ceilings, everywhere she could think of, but to no avail. Every time she got near anyone, they ran for their lives, some a bit louder than others. She found no one, till she happened upon a long-haired man, apparently cleaning. “Pardon me, but do you know where I might be able to find a young man by the name of Rapscallion?”

[randbwrite]

La Comtesse Chronicles Chapter 2 Part 3

Words: 1417

TW: Death, Blood, Graphic Violence CW: Vampires, War, Assassination

B: Something inside him snapped. A nightmare come to life, a victim by his hand refuting Death’s invitation just to exact their own revenge. He saw the faces of those he’d killed, the ones he’d worked with and lost, those who had bet against the League and forfeited their lives in the gamble...they all filtered through the violet eyes filled with rage. Blood drained from his face, oxygen and rational thought all fled in terror when she rose from the ground, but he wasn’t allowed to run. Caught in an impossibly steely grip, her voice sounded the death knell throughout his mind. 

Perhaps she was Death. Her beauty and madness mingled till his vision darkened, shadows tinging crimson.

He couldn’t scream; there was no air. Couldn’t beg; he had no right. Irrationally reigned, any thought much like a dog chasing its tail, equally pointless and unsatisfying at its conclusion. He’d always wondered how he would die, knowing it was a matter of when, not if. Never had he imagined it to be so bizarre. It would have made for one outlandish story to tell Derrick, if he had gotten back. 

Her sword carved into him and there was no thought at all. Only fire and blood and agony. A silent snuffing of life, fitting and by all rights more merciful than that which many would have offered. Or so he thought. 

Choking on his own blood and that of his intended victim, death would not be swift to come. Her weight pinned him, each moment an eternity as he waited for the end. Lingering, he was aware enough to know when someone came to claim her body...to wish he were worth enough to someone for them to do the same. Consciousness at last flowed from his fingers’ grasp, there being no expectation to wake again on this mortal plane. 

Except...he did? 

Blinking groggily against the setting sun, he about scared the life out of the man saying blessings over the dead. Must mean the grave diggers would be out soon. It’s been a few hours now, judging by the position of the sun. He knew himself to be an ornery son of a gun, but why hadn’t he died yet? Not something he’d ever considered complaining about before, but everything hurt.

Welp, wasn’t like he was going anywhere real fast anyway. Categorizing injuries was his normal MO, even if nothing about this was making freaking sense! Right. Work on a bit of order before descending back into madness. Fingers and toes, wiggling. Seeing more than feeling them, as everything took secondary priority to the elephant sitting on his lungs.

His chest burned with every breath, multiple ribs...broken would make sense, but no. They’d be sliced through. With inhuman strength. While in midair and she’d had wings. He had gone cuckoo. That was the only explanation. Or this was some seriously strange rendition of purgatory that had never been mentioned in any variation he’d ever heard. Anything was plausible at this point. Anything except for accepting that it all had been real. 

Though the amount of blood covering him and the wounds lining up with his memories were undeniably real. 

That rabbit hole was stopped up when the priest picked his way over, someone else in tow. A large frame that should not have been there, especially not if Rap was departed. He hadn’t made up his mind on that point yet, but it was made up for him when arms the size of tree trunks -almost but not literally- scooped him off the ground. All protestations, mostly garbled exclamations of anguish, were ignored. Nope. Not dead.

Derrick’s passenger went limp somewhere on the road to the nearest town, delirium setting in along with blood lust. It was unmistakable, fangs and a rabid thirst forcing puzzle pieces to fall into place for this temporary guardian. The reason why his friend wasn’t dead, and how to help him continue to survive. 

None of the interim would be remembered when Rap awoke at the Citadel. Drinking a viscous crimson liquid, fangs emerging and an attempt to bite anything that moved, or how his bones, once cleaved, had started knitting back together at an inhuman speed. The skin that had sported a scar down his abdomen now had a matching, mirrored stripe blazing up his chest, and though the later was raw, it wouldn’t require stitches. The physical change wasn’t the only relic taken away from his encounter with the pure blood.

Those at the Citadel were...displeased to say the least. They’d already received word of Comtesse’s rumored downfall and had naturally assumed their pest would have bit the dust as well. After all, she hadn’t been alone out there! But no, it couldn’t be all good news. Derrick had all but dragged Rap’s weak and disoriented carcass into the fortress, letting everyone assume the assassin had gotten there under his own power. The only reason this century’s bane wasn’t immediately met with a tragic accident right out of the gate was...he wasn’t the same. ‘Rapscallion’ looked less the mischievous leprechaun they were certain he took inspiration from, and more like a wraith haunting the castle corridors. 

Just what had happened out there?! 

It might have bought him a momentary stay of execution from the ruling council, but the rest of the assassins were not so quick to forgive. Derrick couldn’t be everywhere at once, and he’d draw unnecessary attention if he loitered around Rap too often. Besides which, who could keep up with the fellow?

That was the question beginning to circulate the Citadel. Nothing the higher ranks would bother with, but it seemed whenever anyone tried to corner the citrus smelling assassin, he’d just...disappear. Not too entirely unheard of, but something about how it was happening felt hinky and no one could put a finger on the reason why. 

The man himself couldn’t have answered even had he wanted to. First time it’d happened, a trio of his peers had been trying to herd him into a dead end of the castle. Normally he’d climb out a window before they’d quite cut off all avenues and scale the outside walls, no harm no foul. But there was a weariness to his bones that didn’t bode well. For the first time in memory, the castle walls were...unfriendly. Foreboding. The sprightly energy that had been his signature was missing; in its place was an unquenchable thirst and uncertainty in his abilities. 

Scaling off the menu and his outlook getting dimmer by the moment, he’d leaned against a wall where at least he’d have a chance of only having to face one assassin before they’d joined to gang up, but when he’d opened his eyes again...he was in another corridor. On the opposite side of the Citadel. Which made no sense! It was further cementing the idea he was losing his mind. Sleep walking too, and climbing. Every night so far, he’d woken up on a different rafter or windowsill than he remembered having crawled up onto the night before.

Idly, his finger would trace the bandages on his chest before the memories would overwhelm. He couldn’t keep doing that to himself. What he saw out there...it wasn’t, couldn’t have been real. Perhaps it was battle fatigue, though considering what he’d seen or done up till now, he wasn’t sure why taking part in a skirmish would’ve caused it. Maybe it had all gotten to be too much and he’d ignored the signs for too long. He’d always imagined he’d be killed before it ever came to that, or rather hoped. He didn’t want to turn into them, the assassins with the dead eyes. But Derrick wasn’t like that...and he knew the man wrestled a platoon of personal demons. What was the difference? 

Asking would’ve been smart, but he wasn’t to that point yet. He didn’t need to be told he was going crazy. Wishing he’d find equilibrium all on his own was...foolish, certainly. But, being self sufficient had kept him alive till now. Sort of. Technically Derrick had pulled his bacon out of the fire on a few occasions before this one. But he couldn’t have been the only reason for why Rap’s not dead this time, could he? Cause he’s still not sure how he’s breathing. He can still taste the terror of steel rending through his body; her blade tearing apart tissue and bone in retribution for his offense. 

He felt like he was living on borrowed time, and that time was running out.

[randbwrite]

La Comtesse Chronicles Chapter 2 Part 2

Words: 837

TW: Blood, Graphic Violence, Death CW: Assassination, War, Vampires

Warning: Blood and Gore in an image below the cut

R:

After finishing dispatching the latest round of soldiers, she had a strange feeling, but it was far too late. Pain, a sharpness she wasn’t used to exploded through her chest. An unearthly scream left her, like a howl, causing more to run in retreat. She felt her heart stop, pierced by metal, the damage and sensation something she had never felt before. Blackish red flowed, staining the leather of her corset and the white of her shirt. It was then the anger came. At first it was a low rumbling in her throat, then her eyes glowed. But he wasn’t done with her, no, next was her throat. Butchered across her neck, it rendered her unable to speak. More crimson, more of the smell of death reeking from her. But this was not the end of her. It was only the beginning.

Her powers were now completely unhindered, rage being the only thing she felt. She turned and made eye contact, the emerald hue doing nothing to deter her. A smirk the likes of which he had never seen, nor that she had ever worn donned her lips, one of pure and unadulterated madness. Eyes alight, her telepathy took over. “You think that’s all it will take to kill me? Your foolish assassination attempt ends here.”

Art by @nae812​

Floating, rising, she now towered over him, her true vampiric wings uncasing. Grasping his throat, she lifted him up in the air, her sword at the ready. Biting, devouring him, the sword plunged, crimson pooling all over the uniform. The blade twisted, cut sideways and then upwards. No one would survive this, no one except a pure blood vampire. Sword pulled out of him and she collapsed on him, her wings disappearing into her. The last thing she saw was her hand covered in blood as she continued to bleed out all over his broken body. 

Their blood mingled, the process of turning him already starting. Her wounds had steadily begun to heal, the wound across her neck scabbing over. This wasn’t the end for either of them and now their fates were forever intertwined. 

…….

Jean heard the scream from his sire. He turned to see the sword running her through. His heart clenched, he knew this wasn’t good, even for a pure blood. Stashing Napoleon among the dead, he uncased his wings and flew to her, only to find her bleeding out all over her would be assassin. “Comtesse…” He was afraid, for the first time of his long life with her, FOR her. He gently picked her up and pulled the sword out of her back, the blood now getting all over him. He didn’t have time for Napoleon now, she needed help. He knew his housemates weren’t far off, so he took off with her in his arms. 

Flying as fast as he could, he landed a good twenty minutes later, at a base camp. Several of the residents had set up a large tent between the castle and Paris to act as a triage should the battle spill over. It wasn’t the beating of wings that caused the men to panic, rather, it was the blood-soaked shirt Jean wore as he landed, Comtesse unconscious in his arms.

“What in the bloody hell happened?!” Arthur shouted demandingly.

“An assassin.” Jean replied blithely. “She has likely been pierced through the heart. She needs medical attention immediately. Arthur, do what you can. I will be back with Napoleon, who is also wounded.”

Sebastian rushed out with medical supplies as Jean placed Comtesse on a normally unneeded medical bed. Arthur began working on her, taking off her corset, wincing at the extent of her wounds. This was not how he had envisioned returning to his days as a doctor. Footsteps, a strong hand on Arthur’s shoulder. “She will live. I don’t know how long it will take for her to wake up, but she will live. We pure bloods are near impossible to kill. Don’t worry, Arthur, it will be alright.”

Worry, disbelief, and a surreal feeling took hold as a torrent of rain began to fall.

……

Jean reached the body of Napoleon, only to pick him up and fly back to the base camp. By the time Arthur had taken off his armor and patched him up, Napoleon awoke. “Comtesse, where is she?” He inquired.

“She’s…. Asleep…. Not sure when she will wake. Best to take care of yourself for now, Leon. I did what I could, now it’s up to her body to heal. A stab wound all the way through the heart is no laughing matter, even for a pure blood.”

Napoleon’s eyes went wide, shock and worry taking over as the reality set in.

……

In the following days, Comtesse would stay asleep, the world thinking that she had died during the battle. News spread quickly; the French had defeated the Germans easily, despite the latter having more men at their disposal. Strange stories circulated, all dismissed as battle fatigue or delirium. The truth of the battle, lost to history and a bed holding a sleeping beauty.

[randbwrite]

La Comtesse Chronicles Chapter 2 Part 1

Words: 848

TW: Blood, graphic violence, death

CW: War, assassination, vampires

R:

It happened all so fast. One moment the battle seemed to be going per the plan, the next she could feel something was terribly wrong. 

“Napoleon!” Jean shouted and landed as Napoleon took a knee. This drew her attention. The fires went out and Napoleon collapsed. Eyes widened and heart practically stopped. What the hell happened?! This was impossible! No one had ever damaged any of her companions on the battlefield. Red, a vision of fires internally stoked, the fires of war. No one EVER harms those she’s sired!

Her expression changed, a smile that made soldiers quake and pass out. Heading towards Napoleon now, she roared, causing soldiers to run in the opposite direction. Footfalls on the soft earth and then, metal. Were she any other creature, that bear trap would have taken hold of her leg. Instead, she dodged and then split the damned thing in two, flinging the pieces at the enemy army with her telekinesis. Many were going to die over this, of that she was quite sure. 

Another trap, this one a rope trap that wrapped around her legs. Pesky thing that, the rope digging into her boots. She kept walking as if the rope weren’t there and it snapped and unraveled as she continued to walk. Who the fuck was setting these things?! It dawned on her, they were after her, not Napoleon. He must be the distraction. 

She placed her fingers on her temple and looked at Jean. Using her telepathy, she ordered, ‘Jean, treat his wounds and retreat. It’s not safe for you or Napoleon anymore. Get him some blood as soon as you can to help him heal his wounds, if he’ll take it.’ Moving quickly, Jean picked Napoleon up and began to walk with him away from the battle, his wings wrapping around Napoleon as he carried him in his arms. 

Her distraction didn’t go unnoticed. Several soldiers came after her and tried their best to attack her. Rocks from the ground flew at them at first and then other objects took out several of them. A few still kept coming, and she fought with each of them with her sword. Supernatural speed and reflexes made the fights a slaughter, blood splattering everywhere as they each fell to their doom. 

B:

He didn’t have words for what was going on around him. A man hurtled from the sky to land, with wings, besides the man formerly made of fire - not an illusion by the way - and his target metaphorically shrugged off the traps meant to incapacitate. The only normal thing to ground him in a semi-solid state of reality was a German soldier seeing his uniform and trying to take him on. This wasn’t what he’d signed up for!! None of it was! Forgetting for a moment that he hadn’t had a choice. 

There wasn’t time nor the energy to expend pretending to be a soldier. His attire wore dirt and fresh blood, furthering a disguise he didn’t anticipate needing or being able to use to approach her. Which was going to require of him a high price: detachment. 

It was a risky game, shutting away emotions and the very thing keeping him from skidding down a shaky precipice. But it was either that, surrender to death, or take a chance he’d be propelled down the mental slope with rocket boosters. Cause there was no way on earth any of this stuff was supposed to be happening and he was freaking the frak out. 

The light went out of his eyes, emerald becoming harder than their carbon counterpart. He watched as she dispatched soldiers, rocks and blood flowing in a way that was undeniably inhuman and ought to be intensely terrifying. One day, if he ever lived to unbox what paced in the abyss of his memories, he’d have a new set of nightmares to process. Right now, even the scent and intention of her death that should linger in his presence was shielded from both thought and bearing. It helped that death was indeed his job...though supposedly that of her enemies. 

Another wave had tried their luck against her, the blinding nature of battle keeping them from seeing their doom until it was upon them. It was then that he pounced. 

According to the emblem he wore he should have attacked the Germans, not buried his short sword hilt-deep between ribs designed to protect her precious, precarious pulse. In one move her heart was pierced and with a second blade, her jugular and windpipe severed. The mental barrier he had spent years perfecting dented, some part of him still grappling with too many incomprehensible events and the need to feel something before he lost himself. 

Something wasn’t right. He may have completed his task, but the battering ram knocking at the walls of his mind promised death. It may have lasted for a split second, but in that moment he knew. Whatever was going on, he wasn’t making it out of this alive. Real terror took hold, strangling hope and settling dread in his marrow.

[randbwrite]

La Comtesse Chronicles Chapter 1 Part 2

Words: 1907

TW: Blood, graphic violence, death

CW: War, attempted assassination, vampires

B: Near silent footsteps didn’t announce Derrick’s presence so much as the scampering of a happy stoat pattering across the stone ahead of him did. The man was massive, how on earth he could move so quietly was a mystery Rapscallion wanted to solve one day. Whenever he got around to it. 

“They’re waiting for you upstairs.” With his bland tone of voice, Derrick could’ve been discussing the weather.

For all that Rap could be seen to care, they might as well have been. “I know.”

“It’s inadvisable to make them wait.”

“So?” Indifferent shrug.

“There’s a difference between cute and stupid. You crossed a line earlier, and you’re going to drag your feet now?”

“Yep.”

“They want me to drag you if necessary.” Both of them knew how that would end. 

“Aww, I knew you cared!” 

“Never tried to hide it, unlike some people.” 

“Oh stop it, you’ll make me blush.” Rap’s devil may care smirk nearly brought one to Derrick’s expression, but he had to be serious!

“Palavering isn’t going to change the situation...”

“Yeah, but!! If they’re annoyed enough, they’ll give the orders without the imperious preamble and pomp. Here’s your orders and off you go! Works like a charm.”

“Right.” Massive arms were crossed over an equally broad chest, the quirk in his eyebrows reminding Rap his friend really will carry him off if need be. 

A huff lifted a pesky lock off his forehead momentarily, exposing the brilliant emerald orbs beneath. “I’m going, I’m going! I’ll catch ya later. Or not.”

Derrick shook his head, one scarred hand messing up the extraordinarily unkempt rusty mop Rap called hair. He knew what was meant. They couldn’t promise anything, nor really ask, but the unspoken request every time was to take care. Try and survive, eh? Wouldn’t be quite so exciting without the other around. They should probably wonder about how much nonverbal communication went on between them, but such was life. Full of the oddities that made it...so alive.

.....

The board of impassive faces that met Rap would be unreadable to most. Decades of training had refined their poker faces, but everyone has their tells. Tiny twitches, the way certain coifs had been fixed endlessly before he arrived, notebooks, bracelets, rings all adjusted to the nth degree...they should really watch their perfection of accoutrements more carefully. It all but telegraphed their mood. Course they’d never asked him. 

Uhhh...okay, wait. They all had that same creepy dead look in their eyes except one. Dude off to the left, madness gleaming usually signaling blood lust. Did he do anything to tick that one off recently? ...No, not that he could remember...few times over the years, sure. The last prank hadn’t been his, but he took the blame for it. The crazy stunt had gotten a larger contingent of the assassins caught up in it and made them all want to kill him for a few weeks. That wasn’t too much of a deviation from the norm however. With a bit of time they’d all drop it, move on to the next frustration or take it out on their targets. They’re not allowed to kill one of their own anyway. 

Missions were usually handed out by one person. Not a tribunal. Must be another meeting taking place, killing two birds with one stone. This wasn’t set up as a retribution either or he’d sense more of his fellow assassins in the shadows. That’s a delayed relief and he knew it, but hey! He’ll take what he can get.

“So! Whatcha got for me? Who’s incurred the wrath of the great and powerful Assassin’s League? Besides me of course.” 

A minuscule draw to the head assassins’ brows was his reward, but the gleam in the other’s traveled from his eyes to a wide, manic smile. It was also he from whom the instructions came, a mission that per the norm wouldn’t allow for denial in accepting.

“Your target is la Comtesse Arcanum. She will be taking part in a battle between the French army and the German forces. Shoo now. Off with you.”

A noble. Right! That should be easy enough. So why was that gleam now being shared among most of his peers? He almost preferred when they all were content to be blasé about everything to...this. Esh.

Rap was on his way quick enough. It only involved avoiding the booby trap someone had set for him in the hallway to his storeroom. Place didn’t so much count as a bedroom as he rarely bothered to sleep there: gathering up an array of...necessary supplies and hopping a horse he’d leave in the nearest town to the battlefield; he was good to go.

Mission was simple, least to his mind. These commanders tended to do their leading from behind, strategizing based off of reports and keeping themselves safe in a tent far removed from those who gave and lost their lives for whatever ideal or land being quibbled over. Surrounded by soldiers, they thought themselves to be safe. Protected. Untouchable. Heh. People assume in order to be an assassin you have to melt into the shadows. Not true. Humans jump at shadows! They distrust their own even. Disappear into the mundane though...no one will look twice. 

Think about it. Your water boy scurrying to keep the retreat horses fresh? What about the cook’s kid running rations, a medic’s assistant supplying fresh bandages, even an officer with the bearing and urgency demanding he not be stopped for anything or anyone, ducking into the command tent. It was always some variation and pretending to be in a hurry was the only steady requirement. When he got to this battlefield however, he couldn’t stop the swear word from being muttered.

“What the—? Lemon juice.”

No bustle to a central command tent. No commander in that one large, ostentatious tent either. A map, little flags which could surely help anyone intending to spy on their contingency plans, but no female commander. He was going to have to go into the fight himself, and he was beginning to see why they’d thought this would be such great fun. Fun for them.

A survey of the map showed him the general lay of the land, an idea of the commander’s intentions, how she had spread her troops, and where he might lure her to take her out. It wouldn’t be easy as she had plenty of people who were going to be trying to kill her. An entire army as a matter of fact. But if they sent him out there, the army wasn’t going to be enough to take her out.

Something about how the pattern was laid out was bugging him: only when he discerned she wasn’t the singular high ranking officer on the field did he understand. Sort of. Who fought with their own vanguard rather than dividing forces? There must be a purpose for it... He was going to need a vantage of the battle before he went out to join it.

Donning a uniform of the French army, he fished out a spyglass and took a cursory view of the battlefield, suppositions holding true. A maelstrom of blood and chaos was the field, soldiers and grass on fire, blades flashing, one of the soldiers fighting seeming to be made of fire and still plowing on. It was a mess. Rap shrugged and put away his tool. He’d picked out a spot to lead la Comtesse and his target to distract her with, which just so happened to be the second most dangerous force on the field to contend with. Who was on fire. According to the excited rumors in camp, that was the man he was looking for all the same. His own eyes confirmed it from the way the two moved in concert as well, even if logically what he was seeing was defying rationale.

By the time his traps were laid, set for both his target and those who may get between them, the battle had become more of a slaughter than an even fight. It was a matter of time before the opposing commander sounded the retreat; with the lack of officers on the field of battle it seemed surrender wasn’t to be the intention.

Anyone approaching the man on fire had been incinerated, disturbing visions of boiled metal and bent airwaves lending credence to the notion that whatever was actually happening over there and however the frak it worked, it wouldn’t be a bright idea to get anywhere close. Instead, Rap took advantage of the pile of discarded corpses surrounding the indefatigable duo and...played dead. The winds were probably changing soon, based on the way the clouds were moving. He was gambling on the hope this fire man wouldn’t want to risk accidentally burning his commander or allies, never mind the fact Rap had NO IDEA how in the name of insane bonfires anyone could survive being in the middle of those high temperatures, let alone send them off. 

It worked. It worked!! Fire man moved with the wind, using it to carry his incendiary discharges towards his enemies rather than risk his own. A useful breeze, the coat that surely served to project further fear in his enemies and protect the backs of his legs lifted. Just enough. A series of tainted projectiles fired in quick succession, more than half hitting the small target that was the back of fire man’s knee. Good thing Rap had gone with his metal options rather than the more innocuous wooden ones. Easier to hide the evidence afterward, but they wouldn’t have survived the heat. Then again, usually his targets weren’t walking infernos. A notion for further consideration later. Much later. 

It didn’t take long, though fire man must’ve had an elephant’s metabolism to not have dropped immediately, but in under a minute he was finally down on one knee. It would continue to work through his system; the flames guttering along with his strength. The delay gave Rap enough time to move into position though. He would lure the commander to his choice in battlegrounds. Not far from where they were, but just enough that his traps would remain untouched by the unwitting and unintentioned. He held his blow gun aloft, a short sword in his other hand. France’s coat of arms emblazoned on his chest and a very unsoldierly smirk on his lips completed the visage. 

Make her feel rage. Take away her calm. Peel back the strategy and finesse that made her a terror in her element. Force her to step into his world, one without rules of combat, and that would be the only chance he had to take her out. Then again...something made it seem like all his efforts wouldn’t matter. As if she would step just as easily from her realm into his and beat him at his own game. He would not, should not consider defeat. That would mean accepting death, and this had only just begun!

The cocksure rise of lips and brow would not betray fear’s frigid grip trailing sweat down his spine nor the faint tremor of nerves knowing this time, among all the others, the League had no intention that he should come back alive. They might just be right. But he’d never willingly give them the satisfaction.

Standing stock still in the open went against every single instinct in him, nearly all the training he’d received and the adrenaline screaming he move! Fight or flee, pick one!! But for this to work, she had to come to him. A few steps were all it would take and the first of his traps would be sprung...