#but it's longer than anticipated and also got lost on tasallir's past

[feynites]

Castlevania AU Part One

Starring Venavismi, Tasallir, and @lycheemilkart‘s Ana (though only Taz is in this bit for now, because it turns out I’m probably gonna tell the whole thing from his POV lol). 

Tasallir was born in a castle.

 Not an ordinary castle. A castle both ancient and beyond its time; built by the oldest living being in all of the world.

 Ravasan.

 His father.

 Corridors filled with knowledge lost and knowledge yet to be gained made up the maze of his formative years. The nursery was a sanctuary. Soft pastels, cradle and then a child’s bed, hand-stitched blankets and a window that always looked out towards a field full of sunflowers. The castle itself moved. A great churning engine would resound throughout the night, and Tasallir would feel the ground quaking, and hear the distant roars. The castle had not moved much in his earliest years; so the sounds sometimes frightened him later, when they began to hop around, visiting new places every week, it seemed.

 When Tasallir woke to the roaring engines, and the swaying of the decorations strewn from his ceiling; the soft kites he and paper balloons and stars, he would climb out of his covers, and hurry down to the door at the end of the hall. The floor outside the nursery was cold, and Tasallir was not permitted to roam. The nursery was safe; but the rest of the castle was a strange and even frightening place. Even in daytime. He was not permitted to roam.

 This one room he could go to, though. Because it belonged to his other parent. To Nenae.

 Tasallir’s father was the most ancient vampire to have ever lived. He was distant and strange, and in many ways, an unknown to him. He did not see him every day. His hands were cold and his countenance was hard to understand. He did not smile; he did not hug. He would only ask Tasallir questions, and it was often impossible to tell whether the answers were right or wrong. Sometimes he would bring gifts. They were always strange, but Tasallir kept them anyway, in a special chest in his room. Little devices and odd treasures, things that fascinated him at times, even if he could never seem to figure them out.

 Nenae, though, was an elf. Tasallir was an elf, too, although Nenae said his blood was vampire as well. He was half-and-half. A dhampyr.

 On nights when he was frightened, he would go to Nenae’s room. The light was almost always on. Nenae would be in their bed, reading, or at their vanity table. They were soft and warm, with long hair. Darker than Tasallir’s, but coloured red at the tips.

 “Afraid?” Nenae would ask.

 Tasallir would nod, and they would scoop him up and let him curl onto the other side of their bed. Sometimes they would hug him close. But Tasallir’s skin was sensitive, and hugging could be too much. When that happened, they would just sing to him instead. Humming out a steady, repeating rhythm, that made his heartbeats feel even, made his breaths start to move in time.

 When Tasallir was six, Nenae took him out of the castle.

 It was his first time leaving. He was stunned. The day did not go at all as usual. Nenae took him before breakfast; Tasallir did not get to sit down to eat. He did not understand, as they put him in a lot of clothes and wrapped him in one of their spare cloaks, and then carried him through corridors and passageways. Past whirring machines, and massive doorways; through chambers that echoed and other frightening things, that they told him to shut his eyes against. Whispering reassurances, until he felt openness all around him.

 The air tasted strange.

 Nenae ran.

 It jostled him a lot. They ran for a long time, skidding and slipping, holding Tasallir too tight and nearly even dropping him once. By the time they finally put him down, Nenae’s breaths were impossibly hard, and they were surrounded by strangeness. Plants, but growing everywhere. Ground that was soft, but not carpet. Things looked like they had come out of a painting. Or rather, as if Tasallir had been put inside of one.

 “Just a minute,” Nenae said. “We need to catch our breaths.”

 “What’s wrong?” Tasallir asked, because he couldn’t think of what else to ask. He knew something was wrong. Everything was different.

 “Shh, nothing, sweetheart,” Nenae told him. They kept one hand on his cloak, even though Tasallir had already been held too much. “We’re just… going away for a while.”

 Tasallir turned, and saw something in the distance.

 At the time, he didn’t recognize it as the castle. He couldn’t. The castle was something he only understood from the inside; seeing the spires jutting up against the mountainside was as incomprehensible to him as the idea that a single blue and green bead could represent the whole entire earth.

 He looked around in pure confusion, and growing discomfort. The more he noticed, the more unsettled he felt. There were no walls anywhere. The light was bright, and the ceiling was high. High and blue, with a big lamp in it. Tasallir felt wary of it, even though it didn’t hurt. He moved a little back, but Nenae tugged him near again.

 “Stay close,” they told him.

 “It’s too itchy,” he said. Which was what he said whenever he was overwhelmed with touch.

 “Shh,” Nenae said. “It might have to be itchy for a while. You need to stay close, we’re not safe yet…”

 “Can we go back now?”

 “We’re just catching our breaths, Tasallir. Look at me. Help me count my breaths.”

 This was something Tasallir knew how to do, and so he did. It helped him calm down too, in the end. After a while Nenae stood up. He had to hold their hand, but it was better than being carried for a while. Even if the ground was strange and everything seemed sticky or damp or dirty. He didn’t like it. Nenae said they were ‘outside’, and Tasallir immediately decided that ‘outside’ was strange and dangerous and had too much mud. Things kept getting on his clothes, no matter how he batted them. Before long his shoes were dirty, but Nenae told him not to take them off.

 They started carrying him again. They even told him to eat while they did, giving him a bun he liked, and telling him to eat even though they weren’t sitting down and didn’t have plates. It was the same for having drinks. Sometimes they stopped and rested. Nenae even snapped at him when he took his boots off; though the apologized as they helped him put them back on again.

 As the light started to change colours, Nenae started moving faster. They squeezed Tasallir too tight and headed towards another place-like-a-painting; with small buildings and lights, and ground that looked more proper.

 There were people, too.

 Tasallir was astonished. He had never met anyone who was not Nenae or Father before. Sometimes ‘visitors’ would come to the castle, but Tasallir was never allowed to see them. He only knew because sometimes Nenae told him about it; and told him that if he ever saw someone who wasn’t her or Father in the nursery, he was to scream and bang on the things and raise alarms and not stop until they came for him.

 Strangers were dangerous.

 “Nenae…”

 “It’s alright,” they said, rubbing lightly at his back. “I’m here. Just stick with me and don’t say anything.”

 Tasallir did as told. Even when they put him down, despite feeling ‘itchy’, he kept close. Holding their hand as they went to a strange place, with a strange ‘inside’. Nenae got them ‘a room’, which was like the nursery and like their bedroom, but also completely different. They had to cover the windows and keep the lights off, but Tasallir could finally take off his muddy things, and they had a little table to sit down at to eat their supper. It was all still very strange, and he felt exhausted; but it made more sense.

 Nenae tucked into the unfamiliar bed. They sat on the other side, and gave him space, as they stared at the covered window.

 Tasallir wondered if they wanted to see outside.

 “I can open it…” he said.

 Nenae shook their head, though, and patted the bed beside him.

 “Just sleep, don’t worry. Everything’s going to be alright.”

 Tasallir didn’t know if he could sleep in a strange bed. It smelled wrong, and felt wrong. But eventually, Nenae lay down next to him, and started to quietly sing. The sound made his eyes droop, and made something in him settle. Exhaustion won out, at last, and he drifted off to sleep.

 He woke up again while it was still dark.

 There was an odd noise in the room. After a few minutes, Tasallir placed the sound as crying. He blinked awake, and sat up. It took a while for him to see anything. One of the window covers was open, though, and there was moonlight in the room. After a few minutes, his eyes adjusted.

 There were two figured in the room.

 Nenae was on the floor. Their hair was spilling down over their face; they were crying.

 Father was in the room, too.

 He was standing over Nenae. Looking down, in his long coat, with his hands folding neatly in front of himself. He didn’t look at Tasallir as he sat up, but that wasn’t strange. What was more strange was for Nenae to be crying. Tasallir didn’t like that. He looked away, not sure what to do; until another minute passed, and he decided he should go help Nenae feel better. He climbed out of the bed, and when over.

 Reaching out a hand, he patted the back of their head.

 Father looked at him.

 “What’s wrong?” Tasallir asked.

 It seemed the thing to ask.

 Nenae’s shoulders shook harder, and they cried too much to answer. After a minute, Father bent down. He was very tall; tall enough to easily pick up Nenae, as he put his arms around them, and scooped them up from the floor.

 To Tasallir’s shock, Nenae flailed out a fist, and hit Father’s face.

 Father didn’t flinch, though. Nenae wasn’t strong enough to hurt him. Nenae wasn’t very strong at all, really, even though they carried Tasallir; there were a lot of things they couldn’t lift or open, that even Tasallir himself could. It was because they were an elf, with no vampire. So even though Tasallir was shocked that Nenae was hitting, he didn’t feel too alarmed, as they only smashed and wriggled and didn’t really hurt Father.

 “Nenae is it too sticky?” he asked.

 “Let us go!” they sobbed. “Just let us go!”

 Tasallir looked at Father, and felt his lip wobble. Why wasn’t he putting them down? They didn’t want to be held!

“Father, it’s too sticky. You have to let go,” he said.

 “Silence,” Father said.

Tasallir quailed.

 He was mad.

 It… wasn’t good, when Father was mad. It didn’t happen often. And Tasallir wasn’t sure why he felt so strongly certain that Bad Things would come of it. But when Father was mad, the castle always seemed more frightening. There was a gloom in the air, that made it harder to feel happy. It wasn’t a good thing.

 Father’s hands tightened their grip.

 Nenae gasped.

 He leaned in, and spoke quietly to them.

 “Taneleth,” he said. “You are upsetting the boy. Where were you even going to go? There is nowhere safe for you out here.”

 Nenae said it was dangerous, too. Tasallir didn’t know what to make of the way their expression twisted, though. They hit Father one more time, before their face finally crumpled, and they started to cry again. Father loosened his grip a little. He stared at Nenae, until they seemed to get too tired to keep crying.

 “Sleep,” he said, then.

 Nenae went limp.

 Tasallir tried to reach up to move some hair from their face. But it was too far away to reach. Father looked at him again, and he quailed.

 “Get dressed,” Father instructed. “And follow.”

 “My clothes are dirty…” Tasallir said.

 “Put them on anyway.”

 “But…”

“Do as you are told. Now.”

 Father’s tone brooked no argument. Tasallir hurried to obey, feeling wretched as he pulled on dirty boots and all the layers Nenae had helped him take off for the night. He felt tired, too, but the moonlight helped. Father carried Nenae out of the room. Everything was quiet, and Tasallir saw no strangers. A lot of mist poured off of Father as he carried Nenae along, and didn’t slow down, so that Tasallir had to jog to keep up with them. He dared not lose sight of them, no matted what.

 They made it all the way back to the castle like that.

 Father put Nenae in their room. Despite everything, Tasallir was relieved to be back in the nursery. He changed out of his dirty clothes, and washed, and put on his silver star pyjamas. The castle began to rumble. Tasallir snuck down the hall and into Nenae’s room, and found them sleeping on top of their bed.

 Their shoes were still on. He pulled them off, and pushed their hair from their face, before he climbed up onto the other side of the bed. With a long sigh, he drifted off to sleep.

 The next morning, Father came again. Changing the routine before breakfast once more.

 “Tasallir,” he called.

 Nenae gripped Tasallir by the shoulders, though, and kept him from moving.

 “Ravasan…”

 “Enough,” Father snapped.

 Nenae flinched as if struck. Their fingers curled in the fabric of Tasallir’s shirt. Father stares at them for a long moment, before his gaze finally fell on Tasallir. He motioned. With some reluctance, Tasallir gently pulled Nenae’s fingers from him, and went over to answer the summons.

 “Follow,” Father instructed.

 Nenae moved after them.

 “No, wait, Ravasan I swear I won’t-”

 With a fluid motion, Father pulled Tasallir out through the nursery doorway. The door shut behind him with a solid thunk. From the other side, he could hear the sounds of fists against it. He frowned, and pressed a hand to the wood. Hearing Nenae’s distress, but unable to open the door.

 Father began to walk down the corridor.

 “Follow,” he repeated.

 Tasallir reluctantly pulled himself away, and obeyed.

 Father made no footsteps, as he glided through the corridors. His long white hair reached almost to his ankles. His eyes were as red as Tasallir’s, but his skin was much more pale. There was a gaunt quality to his cheeks, as well, that neither Nenae nor Tasallir shared. It always made Tasallir think of skeletons.

 He felt increasingly unsure of things as he followed his father through more and more corridors. Past rooms that rumbled and hummed, through wide chambers, until finally they came to an unfamiliar set of doors. Father pushed them open.

 The room inside was much like Tasallir’s nursery, but different, too. There were no toys or hand-stitched blankets, no decorative paper items hanging from the ceiling. There was a large bed, and a wardrobe, and a mirror. The floor was done in geometric patterns that caught his eye. The window looked out over the mountainside he had walked through yesterday, rather than the field of sunflowers. Several large, sturdy bookcases, full of books, lined the walls.

 “This is your room now,” Father said. “You will not go back to the nursery. You are too old to be spending every day at your nenae’s side.”

 Tasallir froze in place, terrified.

 Not go back to the nursery?

 Father turned, and walked out of the room without further comment. The door banged shut behind him, and Tasallir was left standing in the middle of the room in shock. No nursery? No Nenae? He was an obedient child by inclination, but even he could not accept that. After waiting a few moments, he pulled the door open, and peeked out. When he did not see Father in the corridor, he made his way out of the room, and tried to retrace his steps back to the nursery again.

 ‘Tried’ being the operative term.

 Every time he thought he had found the right path, however, his feet would get turned around; and he would be faced with the ‘new room’ instead. No matter how he tried, he could not find the nursery again. It was the most frightening experience of his life. Tasallir searched and searched, until he finally gave up and sat in the corridor, and began to cry instead. He cried for ages, but Nenae didn’t come.

 When he went back into the new room, there was food on the little table inside. Tasallir ate alone. Eventually, he went through the bookshelves. Most of them had words too tiny and long for him to read, but some had pictures. He found the wardrobe had a lot of clothes in it. Without anything else to do, he decided to play dress-up for a while.

 Then he went looking for Nenae and the nursery again.

 This went on until nighttime. When the sky went dark, Father returned. Tasallir didn’t hear him come in, but he turned around, and saw him sitting in one of the bedroom’s chairs.

 He went still, and waited.

 “Tasallir,” his father said, after a while. “Come here.”

 Tasallir went over to stand in front of him.

 For a long, silent moment, he was inspected.

 “Did you know, Tasallir, that you are not the first child I have had?” Father asked him.

 Tasallir did not know this, and was somewhat dumbfounded. There were no other children in the castle. Were there?

 He shook his head.

 “They are all grown up,” Father told him. “Most of them are dead. The first time I became a father, my heart soared. The first time I fell in love was like flying. Like a dream. I met your Nenae when we were both young, and mortal. The first time they died… the first time my child died… I died, too. Inside, I have died a little more every time I have lost one of you. Every time your nenae is reborn, I dread the day that I lose them again.”

 Tasallir dids not understand, except that… the other children all died?

 He felt a shiver.

 Father reached out, to his astonishment, and brushed his cheek. His fingers felt cold as ice.

 “You think I do not love you,” Father whispered, quietly. His eyes looked strange. “I almost wish I could not. How many times can a heart break, before it refuses to rebuild? I am at the edge, my darling. I am at the edge and if I lose anything more, if this world takes anything more from me, I will burn it all if only to end this pain. If only to never see your faces again.”

 Tasallir did not know what to say. Father had never called him ‘darling’ before. Only Nenae did, sometimes. But then he said he did not want to see Tasallir’s face again? He shivered again in fear, and confusion.

 “I’m sorry,” he said.

 Father pulled his hand back, as if startled.

 He blinked, and then looked at Tasallir again. Something strange passed across his features, before he closed his eyes. When he opened them again, he seemed to be behaving normally once more.

 He stood up.

 “Tomorrow a tutor will come to begin your lessons,” he declared. “Obey them. If you behave well, then at the end of the week, you can see your Nenae again.”

 “Can Nenae tuck me in?” Tasallir asked, boldly as he dared.

 Father glanced at him.

 Then he gestured towards the bed. The covers folded themselves down. Without another word, then, Father turned and strode back out of the room again. The heavy ‘thud’ of the door closing made Tasallir flinch. He waited, and then tried to open it once more. But the handle wouldn’t move.

 It was another strange, bad night, and he did not sleep well; but no matter what he did, it was not a situation he could seem to change.