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azulsluver · 1 year

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Twisted Tales In The Dark

The Sweetest One Of All Halloween event!

tw. yandere, graphic violence, major character death (for reader personally), gore in general, self sacrifice, reader (sort of) develops feelings for the main character, stalking, rook being rook, peace was never an option, obsessive behavior.

❥ featuring the three vampires, Vil, Rook, Epel.

❥ thank you @silentsuperior for writing the first couple of sentences!

Unusual. It was all so distinctive. Feeling of pain arising within one,

Your body drifts in and out of consciousness, and your airway is fresh and clean. You’ve never felt this comfortable, basking in the warm sun and the cool breeze to top it off. With a gentle noise of chattering and horse hooves hitting the ground. You think you can live like this.

A road bump had caused your leg to jolt. Your nerve system crackles and makes your body temperature drop. Your mind is now wide awake, staring into the mists of trees passing by.

As confusion consumed your emotions, you quickly took this time to backtrack on what could’ve caused this pain. Studying down at your leg and kicking in the air a few times. You realized you’re on a moving wagon, layers of hay stacked for you to lay on. A soft gasp catches your attention.

That was until you had a terrible vision. Oh, a rotten image indeed. Flesh departing from your leg so horribly, and the taste of vomit linger down your throat. You tried breathing through your nose, feeling departed from reality.

“Are you alright?” Such gentle words, your eyes travel to a fair maiden.

Her face is fair-skinned, with rosy cheeks and a nose. Hair tied messily in a braid, she stares at you curiously with her green eyes. Another person is by her side, not glancing back at you but at the road ahead. She leans over from her spot up front to look at you closer, you think you look like a fool compared to her.

“I’m fine, ma’am.” You slump back down on the haystacks, sitting by the side so you can talk to her properly.

“Oh, that’s swell. But please don’t be so polite, I’m not that old. My name is Antoinette. My father and I found you lying near a bark, I convinced him enough to heal you until you’re well enough on your own.” She smiles at you sincerely, a sort of smile that has your cheeks warming.

Brushing your hand over your hair, you shyly reply. “ I can’t thank you enough..” Your eyes wander around, nature looks beautiful during this season.

Antoinette gives you a short nod, turning back to let you have a moment to comprehend. Your fingers move on their own, flexing in and out for how heavy they felt. You try to figure out just where you are now.

For she, a maiden so fair in a far land has caught the unwanted attention of vampires. Thirsty for blood, per usual. Her story was pitiful, sacrificing herself to save her father from danger, for the vampire king had taken a liking to her. You’re not sure what happened to her at the end. For a horror story, it was mutual excluding the kidnapping.

You close your eyes as she hummed a tune, letting her voice drift you away to their home.

The wagon comes to a stop, lifting an eye open and you manage to see a lively village. Children are running around while sellers and farmers are advertising their stands. A little cottage house crossing a bridge away from the others, Antoinette helps you down.

Your leg is still in pain, swollen even. Didn’t your wounds heal faster?

….

OK, that's enough. Inside stood garnished with books and flowers, having your muscles feel less tense at the scenery. You’re guided to the kitchen chair, seated down as Antoinette fetches her apron. Her father had left to go to town, leaving you alone with her. You face outside the window, the view is possibly her garden. Flowers and vegetables grow on the right, leaving soft patches of grass on the left.

“Do you like it?

“Hm? Oh, yes. Do you garden as a hobby?” She chuckles, already chopping up some onions.

“Not really, we grow a little patch before winter comes. But I do enjoy it nevertheless, the flowers for example.” You watch as her hands move, slicing the onion in a snappy motion.

Standing abruptly, your legs carry you next to her. Not too close to make her uncomfortable. Do you need some help? Her face turns slightly red, handing you the knife. The smile on your lips was noticeable, the action causing you to dig deep into a forgotten memory.

“You must hold the onion like a paw.” “A paw?” You scrunch up your fingers, making a quick cut on the onion with even slices.

Antoinette stares in awe, you give the knife back to her.

“Practice will help, surely you’ll get better in no time.” You try to keep smiling, your lips cracking once in a while.

You lean against the counter, resuming your watch as she slowly cuts the onion; now moving to other vegetables like carrots and celery. You didn’t want to be a burden. A burden. You’re so much better than that.

“It is rude of me to watch you cook up a meal for a stranger, I wouldn’t mind being of help before your father returns.” She waves her hand.

“But you’re a guest! I promised my father to nurse you, so don’t fret over supper. I’m an expert.” She grins, taking a large pot from under the cabinet and filling it up with water.

You hum. Pretending you didn’t hear what she just said. Instead seizing the heavy pot from her hands and set it on top of the fireplace. She tsks behind you.

“Out of all my guests, you’re quite persuasive.” You light up the fire with a lighter you found on a table, giving a noise of acknowledgment.

She sighs in defeat. You both move around the place, adding ingredients and species to the soup until it was just right. It wasn’t too long until her father came home, an old and short man with a cute mustache. You prepared the plates and even suggested doing the dishes, which you got an earful from Antoinette.

You sat down on your seat, staring at the vibrant color the soup gave off. It smelled good, and you can’t remember the last time you ate. Picking up your spoon, you let the warm soup fill your tastebuds. The taste of flavors burst into your mouth, and you had to stop yourself from letting tears fall.

You shamelessly asked for seconds.

Time goes by fast, almost making you forget what your adjective was. You sat from the couch, a book in hand as Antoinette sat by the fireplace. Her back is facing you.

This is where it would happen. At night, her father would be abducted in his sleep. Just from his window since the yard was the opening. Then, Antoinette would follow. Running through the woods to find her father. With no luck. She’ll be captured by the king’s loyal henchmen, or whatever really.

You slam the book with your hand, getting up from your seat and heading towards the back door. Antoinette is startled but follows after you.

“Are you tired already? We have an extra spare room for you.” She slowly stops when seeing you heading in the back, not glancing at her.

You exit out from the door, passing by the garden and sitting against the wall. Your arms resting on your spread knees, eyes narrowed at the deep woods. The only light source was the fire from inside, but the moon showed what it could reach. You planned on staying up all night, making sure nothing happened to Antoinette and her father. Your hands would wander to the four keys you now have.

A blanket is thrown over your head.

Antoinette holds a candle with her, seating herself next to you. You grab a hold of the blanket and wrap it around her. It wasn’t the time to be going soft, the night is new and ready for danger. You knew your peace wouldn’t last long.

“Antoinette.”

“Yes?”

“Who did you help before me?” She looks up at you, unsure to be surprised or creeped out.

She hesitates for a moment before speaking.

“There was one man I remember, a funny bob cut hair but weirdly charming. I found him lying in a pool of blood, he was awfully pale as well.” You look harder at the trees and bushes.

“Did you know his name?” “yes.”

She lays her head on your shoulder. Her Voice getting softer.

“He said his name was Hunt. Rook Hunt, a strange man indeed. I haven’t seen him in the last couple of months. So I have no clue where he went. However, I did meet a kind man named Epel. He stopped by my doorstep once to thank me for helping his friend, leaving a basket of apples as well.” The story was starting to irritate you. These cruel men sounded familiar in the book, for they were the ones who lured her to a castle just up on a hill.

Now that you have a view, the castle is large and gives off the worst vibe of “come here and you’ll die” vibes. Antoinette plays with your fingers, she’s seemingly into physical touch now you’ve noticed.

“The problem. Ever since that incident I’ve been seeing things. From afar, or I feel like I’m being watched.” She gives you a dry laugh, her voice slightly breaking. “I sometimes can’t sleep. Or else, I feel like they would get me.”

Antoinette buries her face into your shoulder. Soothing her as you pat her head gently. She shouldn’t be getting this comfortable around you.

An idea pops into your head. Well, not an idea but a memory. You read along the lines of the man named Rook Hunt, some weirdo who didn’t like garlic because Antoinette just so happened to get some from her garden at night. This would mean right now, but that’s ok, stories weren’t always implied to be the same.

You still kept your eyes forward. And you’re glad you did. The human eye couldn't see, but those green orbs stared back at you with the same intensity. A scowl on your face. Both you and Antoinette are clearly in a vulnerable situation, these superhuman vampires would kill you if they had the chance.

You stand to your feet, holding Antoinette along. Mind racing with what would be the best scenario, the outcome. And you. You’ll have no choice but to face these demons for that fifth key.

In a blink of an eye, your face to face with the man who's been terrorizing her. His tall figure towering over you as his cape swallows you whole.

Thrown on the floor, a heel stomps on the back of your spine, keeping you from getting up. Antoinette is held by her wrist, you’re no longer outside. But in that forbidden castle you were just dissing. Your body twitches and struggles, looking back to see purple hair all up your face.

“Do we kill this one?” Now that’s just rude. Rook lets out a laugh, and Antoinette cries out for you.

“Now, now monsieur Crabapple…You’ll upset poor ange if you keep it up, just throw that thing into a cellar–” His eyes travel down to your waist, craning his neck in the process.

Rook throws Antoinette to Epel, making him stumble a few steps back for him to lift his leg off you. Your chin is harshly raised, Rook examines your features, squinting playfully at your angered expression.

"Tu as une magie si forte en toi ! et tu sens absolument divine aussi…” his nose brushes down your cheek, feeling a sharp sting.

You started to thrash in his hold, fear-stricken in you for how little it helped. Warm blood flows from the wound, his tongue greedily licking it up. As disgust washes over you, you can’t win in this situation. Antoinette watches with horror as she’s dragged away, being left with a freak lapping up your face like a dog. Your hands hold onto the back of his cape, grunting in frustration as he pulls away with a loud plop.

Ew, ew. You quickly wipe your face off, feeling 10x lighter which is scary. Rook’s face is coated with a light pink, he chatter’s to himself as a way to introduce himself. You’re far from interested in getting to know him, instead eyeing the many doors around you.

Mentally hitting yourself, you try to think of a solution.

“How about a game!” That was dumb. But it seems to grab his attention.

“Y-yea, a game where I can run around and you come and find me. Like, hide and seek!” You’re sweating horribly, a nervous smile breaks out.

Rook seems thoughtful at the idea, rubbing his thumb over your purple cheek before answering.

“It’s been so long since I’ve had a chase, oh tu fais battre mon coeur d'excitation!!” His grin shows his fangs, making you cower.

He lets you go.

A hand placed over his eyes, his smirk taunts you.

“I suggest you start running. Counting to fifty starts now~” You make a break for it.

The heel of your shoes echoed down the corridors, passing by sculptures and large paintings on walls. There was a one percent chance of winning this game. For the hunter of humans was the kings right hand man. With just a flick of his wrist could kill a man in seconds, you weren’t gonna risk it. You needed an advantage.

You burst through doors to doors until you stop yourself in a large kitchen. Empty, strangely enough. You look around for a place to hide. The plan must be perfect, or else you wouldn’t see daylight again.

He followed the doors and scent, with that mark on your cheek it was child's play. With your wound still fresh, it leads him to the empty kitchen. Your scent had disappeared, have you figured out already? Rook scans out the area, nothing seems to be out of place and he couldn’t hear your breathing. You’re quite good at this.

Rook glides his hand over the counters, his footsteps loud as he moves in a full circle. Should he pretend to leave the room and watch you come out, or maybe even stab each cabinet until you scream.

There was that smell that lingered the air again, Rook followed. His body reacting singularly by the smell, strong with how many more scents was covered. Some old friends.

Rook stops in front of a single cabinet, face shadowed with a thirst of sin. He was certain, you were in that exact spot. Shivering in fear perhaps? How he longs to see such dread. His gloved hands reach for the handle, swinging it open with eager intent.

A dust of yellowish white powder blinds his vision, he hiss in pain as he’s tackled down to the other side of the room. His nose scrunches up in disgust at the smell; garlic powder. With burning eyes, he couldn’t use his magic to sense you or where you went. All he can do was trust his instincts and the pressure of your aroma.

Rook was fast, he could detect your hits and where you planned and plunging the knife. You needed to agitate him more. With the knife in your hand, you make a quick cut on your wrist. Since he was so keen on reminding you how strong your scent was, you knew it would throw him off. And it did.

His body jolts, bumping backwards into a counter as you quickly press the knife down to his heart. If it was there. You held yourself there, hearing his breathy gasps and how your hands stained with his blood. Just to be sure, you push deeper.

Green eyes lit dimly in the dark, his vision clears. Your about finished by now, separating yourself from his needy hands that tried to hold you. Rook watches you intently as you found a cloth to wrap your wound, tasting his own blood drip out of his mouth.

“Quelle poursuite passionnante. Un humain comme toi a réussi à capturer mon cœur froid“ He chuckles to himself, your eyes meet.

You crease a brow at him, not liking the look he’s given you. Twiddling the knife, you stab it down onto his knee, making sure to hear the bone snap. He doesn’t react, instead smiling happily at your choice.

“Smart one aren’t you?”

“Rot in hell.” You get up, time was wasting. And you need to find that mirror along with Antoinette.

As you leave the room, you can faintly hear Rook’s humming.

It took some time but you found the room you needed, a large door. Your eyes widen at the scream inside, making you waist no time into using your body to break it open. Holding your composure as you stumble upon thousands of floating coffins. A fountain oozed with a green liquid makes you grimace. But what caught your attention was him.

Holding Antoinette by the throat, he stands tall near a large mirror. Your way home, or so you thought. Antoinette is bleeding by the neck, two holes punctured in her skin as she struggles to free herself. A gorgeous man you stand before him, a look as deadly as knives.

He drops her. letting her gasp for air as he takes long strides towards you. Your body is tense in action, ready to move if he planned on hitting you with a surprise attack. His gloved hand raises, flicking it slightly as the other man from earlier bows.

“Find Rook.” The purple haired man responds with a yes, passing by you in surprise.

You inched closer to see Antoinette but is stopped by Vil, his hand magically appearing a a silver key with royal purple gem stones. The design of an apple. Vil raises an eyebrow at your shocked face, taking a step back. He throws you the key.

“Leave.” Firm and full of authority, you glance over to Antoinette.

“What about her?” Vil frowns at you, placing a finger over his chin as he looks down.

“Or would you rather die here instead? Why worry about some girl, she won’t live long.” Antoinette steadies herself, her skin pale and sweaty. You stand where you are.

His eyes glower at you in irritation. “Fine, have it your way.”

Vil stands in front of you, his hand straighten as it aims for your head. You backed your head away but is damaged by the shoulder, a clean cut. His attacks are ruthless, having you scattering to the floor and up again. A kick to the head, able to protect yourself yet sending your body flying to the fountain. Your arms are raw from the pain, yet you’re lifted by the neck.

“Filthy, you’ll get my clothes dirty. Oh well, I’ll be sure to let poor Antoinette clear the stains off.” His hand once again aims for your chest. You shut your eyes.

Antoinette runs to the side, pushing you with force as you land by the mirror. Choking and gurgling the spit out for air. You raise your head up in horror, with his hand clutching the heart of hers. Beating and alive, you stare as she’s thrown next to you. Her mouth is foamed with blood and spit, eyes barley moving to take one last look of you.

Yet you thought you could have prevented her fate, with a kiss to her cold hand. Your body moves quick to the mirror, as your final goodbye to the one you failed. Vil stands by, poker-faced.

You couldn’t see them, but he can. The various marks on your body, it was best to let you go.

#yandere twst #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #yandere twisted wonderland #twst #twst x reader #twsited wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #epel felmeir x reader #rook hunt x reader #vil schoenheit x reader

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cero-tia · 2 years

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A prologue, a death, and a birth

TW: Vampires, blood loss, death, stuff that vampires do to people who don’t want to be vampires. Don’t @ me. Also, it’s long, so...strap in.

In the shadows of tall buildings and grand cathedrals, a country lad used to trees and haystacks could get awfully tired of craning his neck up and about to see it all. Of course, even a farmer who had been visiting the city every spring and summer month from the time he could lift a melon could still find things to fascinate and distract him, so it was extra important that he keep his head on his shoulders and see to his duties. It just wouldn’t do for him to let his family down by failing to sell their wares, or losing it in a bar or an alley, or letting anything happen to their produce. Still, it was always a challenge to get into and out of the grand city walls without letting this or that pull Cero away.

If it hadn’t been for the presence of his father, sturdy and solid beside him on the cart, the lad might even be tempted to stray to some of the more alluring places in the city that drew him every time he came. Bakeries around the edge of the market district put out such a sweet, light perfume of sugary pastries and sweet sour loaves, and there were many more than just the few that the cart passed on its way to set up for sales. There were grand stone buildings further into the town, where the bigger business was done and the richer men lived their lives, that peasants and poor farmers might still wander through to feel a sliver of the grandeur of the architects of the past.

The grandest of such buildings could have held anyone’s attention for weeks on end, and Cero had always been wistfully curious about what it might look like to wander the halls and explore the lovingly curated gardens and paths under her shadows. His family was as devout as any, but such grand cathedrals as Our Beloved Lady existed far outside of a farmer’s world no matter how much he felt its call.

At least, this is what the boy’s father told him anytime he thought to venture a suggestion that they take a peek inside, or try to attend a service after market. It was always a ‘No, and who’s going to watch the cart while you’re in their talking to the gods?’ or a ‘You don’t need fancy walls to say your prayers.’ It didn’t seem right to correct his father that Cero was as deeply entranced by the sheer physical grandeur of the black and gold towers and spires as he was curious about the religious devotees that called it home. You weren’t supposed to just be ‘curious’ about the gods’ home; that was as rude as asking a neighbor if you could nose around their houses just for the sake of it.

So Cero stayed obedient to his father, and stayed a wistful, starry-eyed dreamer when they rode their solid old cart through the Lady’s gentle shadows. One more simple farmer, drawn to and intimidated by the intricate workings of the orders who served the gods, unable to cross the lines that lay in the ruts of the roads in and out of town.

Except one day, the lines in the sand and the ruts in the road led the boy astray, away from the paths he had always known and followed and into a world to which he had never given a single serious thought. In one dreadful moment, he was pulled into a dark embrace in the very shadow of the Lady that put him forever out of her reach.

It was a market day, as it always was—and as he though it always would be. Today was unique though in that it was to be the first day that the young man was to go to town alone, to sell their wares and to bring home the necessities that would keep the family another month. In the end of the hot summer months, they had baskets of dark green squashes heaped in their cart, along with warty orange pumpkins, sacks of golden onions, and the heads of fat, seed-heavy sunflowers that Cero’s mother liked to grow for the beans to climb. It was time to start clearing the fields of the last of the harvest, so there was not as much variety of produce or quite the sheer volume to move today. It was decided that Cero was to be entrusted with the cart and the old horse to bring the wares to market and to purchase seed corn, green thread for his mother, and a block of bees wax to bring with him on his way back. He had also been given leave to see if the bakers had any sweet pastries left at the end of the day, and to purchase enough to share with his parents and sisters if there were.

No one had been particularly concerned about the safety of getting into or out of the city, not even for a single young man with a horse and a cart. Though they lived outside the walls, and away from the shadow of the Lady and the buildings that clustered around her feet like chicks under a grand dame of a hen, there were plenty of safe roads that led in from the gentle hills and farmland. Even with the sun sinking lower in the sky as autumn came slipping in, it remained safe for a lone traveler to move into and out of the city as long as he didn’t tarry too long after sundown.

The thought of safety was hardly a worry in the young man’s pretty blond head though, as full as it was with the responsibilities he had been given. He knew how to stock the cart to make a fine display, and how to hawk the squashes and sunflowers to anyone who came past, and his easy smile and cheerful demeanor made him easy for men to trust and pleasant for women to tease. He had a strong back and a dutiful speed when it came time to pack up the last of the vegetables, and by the time the sun dipped into the delicate architecture of the ornate cathedral, he had already found his bag of sweets to share and readied the old mare for the return home. It had been a most successful day, and he looked forward to nothing more than sharing his tale of the day with his family, and basking in the warmth of their trust and affection. He was a simple lad, with simple dreams, and there wasn’t the wisp of a cloud in his sky as he fed the horse one more apple for the road.

“Good sir, a moment of your time….”

The youth looked up to find a young woman standing a few paces back from his cart, and he immediately hopped down from the driver’s bench.

“Of course, Mum—what can I do for you?” It wasn’t unheard of for latecomers to the market to seek out lower prices on the last of the day’s offerings, and Cero knew better than to offer disrespect to a lady. Especially one such as this; he was almost captivated by the startling grace about her, from the way her hair shone even in the waning light to the soft cant of her head and the delicate lilt to her voice. He was not unused to easy conversation with the fairer sex, but the woman was nigh on intoxicating to even behold.

“Are you, perchance, traveling out through the north gate?” she asked, clutching her hands together at her breast. “I lost my cousin in the bustle of the market today, but she knew I know the road back to her home, and must have left earlier in the day. If it’s no trouble, if you’re going that way anyway…might I ride with you, so far as the river?” She looked so hopeful, Cero thought; if his parents heard that he had denied a young woman a safe escort to her home, they’d never be able to look at him without shame again.

“Of course, Mum—I’m taking that road anyway, and I wouldn’t mind even if I wasn’t. I couldn’t leave a fine lady to travel alone after sundown.” He pulled a crate off the back of the cart and set it beside the bench, offering her a hand to assist her up.

“You’re awfully kind; I don’t want to impose, but I am ever so grateful. My family will be appreciative to hear of your kindness.” She rested her dainty palm in his, paying no mind to the dirt under his fingernails, and stepped up into the cart. Her touch was as light as a bird, as though she didn’t need him at all, and already chilled from the cooling evening air.

Cero was quick to reload the back of the wagon and hop up beside her, keeping a respectful distance so as not to assume and stain either of their dignities. He introduced himself as he turned the old mare north, and she did the same. Her name was Safine, and she was visiting with her family in town, from the next town down the road. Her father worked to support the church in that town; he was the youngest brother, and would never inherit the farm, so he moved to the city, she said. Her hands were fine enough, Cero had noticed immediately; she was obviously no farmer’s daughter with soft hands like that, and it made him straighten up and mind his manners to be graced with her favor and trust in his honest intentions.

She described a home Cero had never seen as her destination, off the main path and out of Cero’s familiarity with the hamlet just before the river, but he assured her it was no trouble to turn down one little extra road to see her safely to her people. She gave him a smile, and he found himself flustered by the fullness of her lips and the delicate rose of her lips in such a fair face.

They turned onto the road out of the city, and left the shadow of the high gate behind. The trees were hardly so thick as to be a forest, this close to town, but they were pleasantly shady on a hot day as one came up the road. Now they cast a lovely purple dusk, dark enough that Cero paused to climb down and light a lantern for the corner of the cart. Fireflies began winking as the travelers passed, emerging to enjoy these last warm nights of autumn before winter came with their demise and darkness.

There was no reason at all to suspect that there was anything on the road that would try to harm them, and so it was with the element of utter surprise that Cero felt himself abruptly and viciously yanked out of the cart. It happened so fast that he actually found himself moving in slow motion, and had the time to wonder with a sense of dumbstruck awe how something could have reached past the passenger beside him to haul him out of the other side of the cart. Time moved slow, then flipped and moved extra fast to adjust for the discrepancy and he found himself hitting…well, not the ground, but something awfully hard. In his dazed state he realized belatedly that he was still upright, and not beside the cart at all—in fact, he was clasped in the young woman’s arms.

“Did you catch me?” In hindsight, he would look back and feel like the worst kind of fool for his naivety. Now, catching his feet under him and realizing he was held fast, it seemed reasonable to think that he had fallen, and she had caught him. He could still hear the satisfied purr in her sweet voice in his memories, and to this day it made him shudder with a trickle of icy, primal fear.

“I did, sweet boy.” Her lips were at his ear, and her one hand held both of his behind his back, with the other clasped around his chest. Puzzled struggles became startled fear, and the tugs against her hold became frantic, if futile, thrashing.

“I’ve caught you, and now you are my little mouse to play with.”

The lad’s feet were pulled out from under him as she dragged him backwards, away from the road and the disappearing glow of his cart’s lantern. The solid old plow horse, steady and as set in her route as a wheel in a rut, continued on with barely a startled toss of her mane. The road fell away entirely as the pair withdrew into the shadows of the trees.

“Please, take the money!” The purse he carried would be important to his family, but it was nothing they couldn’t recover from, and it was nothing next to his life. Cero was cut off with a soft, strong hand across his mouth, silencing him with a frightening iron grip.

“Your money is no use to me, little mouse. I want the gold of your hair, not your pockets. I want the jewels you carry in your breast.” His heart was pounding like a frightened rabbit’s as the woman’s hand squeezed gently, caressing his face with fingertips that drew tickling lines with sharp nails over his cheeks.

“Sweet little fool, I don’t need your stinking horse or your rattling cart—I came for you.” They were in a clearing in the woods, far enough from the road that Cero could no longer see the lights of passing travelers or hear the sound of hooves or feet. They should have still been within sight of the road—it had only been a moment since he felt the jerk on the back of his neck that pulled him off the cart, but he realized with a lurch in his gut that he could see no sign in the waning light of so much as the direction of the road, let alone the well-worn road. There was a chill in his limbs now that had nothing to do with the cold hands clasping him close to a startlingly cold body. Whatever had happened, he had found himself utterly without power in an instant, caught by a woman who meant him no goodwill and was tickling at the superstitions he had been told as a young, gullible child. Things worse than bandits and unscrupulous men lurked in the shadows of the world, every child ‘knew’—there were monsters, things that looked and sounded like humans who would eat you up and spit your bones out if you didn’t obey your parents or finish your chores. Never had he given thought to the tales as something that would ever happen to him—

Time moved as though through molasses as fear turned the farmer lad’s guts to jelly and sapped the strength from his limbs. His knees gave out beneath him—or did she effortlessly pull him down?—and he found himself kneeling in the soft leaf mulch of the forest, under a faint circle of sky that was just beginning to show the sprinkle of stars. The hands released his and cupped his chin, tilting his face up towards Safine’s. She was pale in the darkness, a marble mask with black shadows for eyes that peered down at him with an intensity he could feel despite his blindness.

“You know better than to squeak, don’t you little mouse,” she purred in a voice full of teeth. “You know I can whip your pretty little head around and snap your neck like a bird wing, if I wish.” Knowing it and hearing it said were two horrifying levels of understanding, and Cero felt himself descend down into the horrified shock that was the realization that she spoke the truth.

“If you are sweet, you won’t have to suffer that. You needn’t suffer ever again. All you must do is give me a kiss. One kiss, little mouse, and you won’t be hurt.” Her words in the darkness slithered around the young man’s back and curled over his skin like snakes. One kiss? It seemed unexpectedly simple, for so dire a trap he found himself balanced upon. In this moment, he was prepared to offer it immediately, to safe his life, and he tried to tell her as much with a dreadful stammer and the choked up inelegance of a young man on the verge of tears.

The lovely face came close enough to his that he could see her smile, even through the darkness and his watering eyes. She was terrifyingly beautiful, and now there was something more that made her seem....well, inhuman. He was beginning to suspect as much anyway, much as his mind was flapping about for anything else to be the cause of the superhuman strength and speed and allure. But she was beautiful enough to make his heart ache even as it fought to break free from his chest, and he tilted his head up to kiss her.

Her lips were cold enough to steal the breath from the young man, but she held him by the face and held him close and wouldn't let him pull away. She seemed to draw the warmth out of him through the embrace, sending icy trickles down his back and arms as she drew in a slow breath against Cero's lips. One hand slipped up into his hair, never minding the sweat of a hard day's work that made the unruly fluff stiff and grimy, and curled around the back of his head. Cero, minding her threat to snap his neck if he cried out, shuddered and closed his eyes. It took an age for her to draw back from him, and only then by a handspan or so as she sifted through his hair. He wasn't looking now; he didn't want to see his death coming if she made good her threat. He didn't see the soft tongue come out to lick her lips, or the curl at the corner of her mouth like the grin of a cat who had caught the canary.

He also didn't see the horrifying sight of her mouth opening as though in a silent scream as she leaned in, and the fangs that peeked out from under her upper lip. The only warning he got before the searing pain exploded at his throat was a wisp of icy breath over his skin immediately before she tightened her grip in his hair and jerked his head back hard.

The spell that had held the boy locked in place crumbled as the vampire sawed her teeth into his freckled throat. He tried to throw himself backwards, to bring his hands up to push her away or fight, somehow, against the monster that was latched onto him with the strength of a steel trap. He could feel the softness of her skin against his own, but it was a distant and useless observation as he found it impossible to pry her away from him. They fell back together onto the soft loam of the forest floor, he below and she on top, squeezing with her thighs around his hips to ride out his frantic thrashing.

The pain was spreading now, traveling down from where the leech was latched onto his throat and settling further into his chest--his heart felt like it was punching against his ribs in an effort to flee the horror happening to him. Faster and faster he could hear his pulse getting, and the faster it beat, the quieter the roar of blood in his ears got. Everything was going cold, and he could do naught but slap weakly at the body tangled around his. Even the stars were going faint where they flickered above him, fading out as the light left the farmer boy's eyes. He thought of his family, and how they would hopefully find the trusty horse as she wandered her way back down the familiar road...but what if she didn't? What if he had cost the family their work horse? Now he wouldn't be going home, and they would never get the thread, or the beeswax, or the seed corn...they would never know what happened to him, or that he had done everything they had asked of him that day. His father would never know how proud Cero was to represent the family's farm, or how many pumpkins he had sold.... He would never get to shop for pastries or hear the great bronze bells of Our Beloved Lady tolling the noon hour from the market.

Everything was fuzzy and distant. Cero couldn't see, he felt only cold and pain. Pain in his chest, pain in his tingling fingers, pain where his lifeblood had been pulled from his slashed throat. He was faintly aware of the cessation of the pressure at his throat, but he wasn't thinking about her anymore. He was still trying to focus on the image of his mother's face and the sound of the bells when something was forced into his mouth, making him choke and cough weakly. It gagged him with a harsh iron flavor, and burned like fire against his cold tongue, but it lit another fire deep in his belly, under the cold and the darkness and the pain.

This new fire came clawing up through his chest like a starving wolf, pushing aside thoughts of family and the face of the god in the grand cathedral. It pushed aside the sight of the stars and even the last breath of air in his chest, and it latched onto the taste of blood in his mouth.

Strength surged from the deepest part of Cero's soul and pulled him back from the brink. Another taste of rich iron brought back the piercing glare of starlight above him, and he bit down on whatever it was in his mouth that was forcing blood onto his tongue. With each drop that he sucked, his strength came back. Drops became mouthfuls as he clamped his teeth into...a wrist? The young woman held her forearm between his teeth, and he seized it and held it fast so that she couldn't try to pull away and deny him the lifeblood that was surging back into him. All thoughts were beyond him--all that mattered was pulling his blood back from her, taking what had been taken.

He didn't know how long they lay like this, with him nursing from her veins on the forest floor while the stars gazed down indifferently. At some point, the woman pushed Cero's head back with a growl, overpowering his grasping fingers curled into claws. She climbed off of him and left him on the ground, and stood there watching as he thrashed and growled and howled in pain. The fire in his belly that had rushed up to take the blood from his tongue was burning him, forcing the coldness out of his joints and limbs and eyes and tongue with a heat that felt like it would consume him from within. It faded so slowly that the boy didn't realize how long he had been lying still on the forest floor, only that he finally--blessedly--felt no pain. He felt no cold, no fire, no tingling in his fingers or burning at his throat. When he lifted his fingers to the wound, shaking and afraid of what they might feel, he found...nothing. Well, there was dirt and a stickiness that smelled of salt and iron, but there was no ragged flesh, no pain. He couldn't even feel shock to find himself whole.

And when he raised his eyes in the darkness--the darkness that was no longer a curtain over his eyes, but a rich and beautiful hue of blacks and blues and browns that revealed every intricate detail of the trees surrounding him--he found the woman, standing against a tree, watching him. Safine, he remembered--her name was Safine. Her mouth was smeared with blood--his blood--and when she saw him seeing her, really seeing her, she smiled. Where before it had felt like trying to gaze adoringly up at the very sun, now he felt no agonizing throb in his chest to gaze upon her beauty. Now she was simply wonderous, and he could see every tiny detail that made her lovely without feeling the need to weep at the sight of it.

"You've made me richer with your gold and jewels than you could ever know," she said quietly, stepping forward to extend a hand. Cero lifted his to accept it dumbly, stumbling to his feet as she pulled him up with a strength that no longer surprised him. "And I, in turn, have given you the power that kings and gods can but dream of. Come, little mouse. Let me show to you our kingdom." She slipped her arm through his, moving him gently as she would a beloved and aging grandfather, and turned him back towards the road, and the city.

#immolation AU courtesy of lordofcrowns #vampire au #blood and gold #cero au #wriring #drabble #drabbles #here have 4100 words on how to kill a blond

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