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riordanness · 3 months

Text

just a man — [e.pevensie x oc vampire!au]

wordcount: 2.6K

warnings: vampires, dark themes

requested: no

a/n: this was literally a school project like three years ago when i was deep in my narnia phase so i turned it into a mortal!edmund x fem!oc in a vampire!au fic to make it more fun to write)

tags: @ornellastreet ,, @honey-ambrosia

The man stands, still as a statue against the wind, which blows against his back. At his front, the cold, darkly coloured beach lies, empty and lifeless. The wind picks up, rustling the man's dark hair, and shifting through his black, tightly-fitting clothes. The man's richly coloured brown eyes gaze over the beach, the quietness and serenity comforting him. This was all he needed. Peace. Quiet. Silence. Just him and himself, alone.

The man, who is known only as ‘Ed P’, takes a deep breath, inhaling the cool, stale air. His stature is tall, broad shouldered. Ed’s stern expression showcases his disposition. The cold, stern, and haughty man was known for being selfish and unkind, sarcastic and hateful towards everyone.

The man turns, and walks briskly along a winding path, through the trees at the edge of the sand, and towards the stone house a few hundred metres away. He lives alone, in a tall, darkly coloured manor. The house is large, empty, lifeless, and silent.

People say he was not always the way he is now. They say he was once a kind man. Things changed when the man’s father was mysteriously murdered. No one can find out the true story behind his death, but ever since, Ed has been cold, drawing into himself.

Only a scarce few know the secret. None will let the words past their lips, the horrifying truth too terrifying to share. The truth, they say, is often better untold.

Nadia stares at her reflection in the small, cracked mirror, her auburn hair fluttering lightly to her waist, bright grey eyes shimmering in the sunlight, which flows in from only one, tiny window. There’s a slight possibility that she could escape through it, but it’s not likely. Whoever has trapped her in here wouldn’t have left such an easy escape. Not that she can escape through it anyway. The window is hundreds of metres from the ground, a deadly fall.

Nadia’s slight form trembles, her torso shaking. The wind surrounding the tower she’s entrapped in begins to howl, the freezing temperature causing goosebumps to raise on her bare arms.

Only a few days ago, her life had been just fine. She lived with her parents, working in the bakery with her family, teaching the younger girls in the village to bake in her free time. Then, in one, sudden moment, her world had shattered into a thousand pieces.

She had been on a walk, through the deepest parts of the woods behind her house. Her dress had been fluttering around her legs, her hair awhirl. Her left foot, she remembered, had accidentally snapped a twig, and with a surprising swish! a large man had jumped out in front of her, a black cloak wrapping around her, and her world faded into pitch darkness.

She’d woken up in here, in a small, circular tower, the only door locked, and the only window far too high up. There wasn’t any way to escape, not that she knew of. She didn’t even know who her captor was. Just some strange . . . humanoid figure.

The grotesque features of the figure in the mirror crease into a horrific smile. A maniacal laugh pours out of it, the sound echoing off the stone walls. The creature’s face is pale, with blood red eyes, flashing with fire and hate.

Clutched in the creature’s hand, a small, black piece of chain. This never left the creature’s grasp, as it controlled it’s life. Once that piece of chain left its body, the creature would collapse, vanishing from the face of the Earth. The chain wraps around the wrist of the creature, tied securely, for fear of being lost.

Lord Hunter, the creature called himself. Barely is he spotted out of his castle. Wearing a dark cloak, wrapped in a black scarf, with a little black top hat, the creature would occasionally slip out into the real world, and blend in with the humans. He would act as a male human, get what supplies he needed, and retreat back to the castle.

Lord Hunter was usually completely alone, except for the few times he had a victim. A woman, girl, or any female human in general. He would take her captive, lock her up for approximately a week, then devour her blood, transforming her into a creature like himself.

Now, Lord Hunter had a newly retrieved victim. A beautiful young woman, with chocolate hair to her waist, perfect features, a flawless complexion, and stunning grey eyes. Nadia, they call her. And soon, she would be gone, like the dozens of beautiful young girls who came before her. Vanished without a trace, impossible for anyone, including the authorities, to find.

Ed trudges along the dirt road, hands shoved deep into his pockets, a long, dark coat covering most of his body. The freezing weather cuts into the exposed skin on his face and neck. Icy cold wind bites into his nose, making him shiver.

Noises surround the silent man, animals scampering, birds singing and chirping, trees rustling in the breeze.

Ed ignores all the sounds, lost in his thoughts, as he always is. Suddenly, pain sears his mind, white flashing before his eyes. His head pounds, the pain so bad it felt as if his brain was splitting into two. The man falls to his knees, holding his aching head between his palms, as if trying to squeeze the pain away.

The world is tilting, white and black flashes alternating in his vision. The world begins to fade, slowly slipping into darkness.

Nadia stares into the horrifying face of the creature before her. Vampire, she thinks. She’s never seen one before, but that word immediately came into her mind when she first spied the grotesquely pale face, blood red eyes, filled with fiery hatred, dark, loose clothing, and a raspy, metallic voice.

“What do you want with me?” She asks, a tremble in her voice, her body shaking with fear. She mustn’t show it, however, mustn’t show how terrified of this creature she truly was. Nadia knows she has to be brave, keep calm. Think of a way to escape.

“I want,” the creature says, it’s voice vaguely masculine, but definitely not human, “you to be my slave.” There’s a little spark in it’s eyes, the fire growing stunningly brighter for a moment.

“Why?” Nadia demands, her fists clenching. She silently thanks her lucky stars for how her voice stays steady, and there’s no trace of a tremble in it.

The vampire’s lips part in a diabolical cackling laugh, which sends shivers down Nadia’s spine. No words are given to her in response, however.

Ed’s dark eyes slowly flutter open. All he sees is the open sky, with trees fringing the edges of his vision. The man tries to stand, his legs shaky, images swimming in and out, dizzying him.

The time of day wasn’t immediately clear to Ed, but after a few seconds, he regains his steadiness, and begins to focus more fully on his surroundings. He’s still in the woods, standing in the middle of the dirt path. Evidently, nothing happened to him after that . . . incident. No lady found him lying there, either. Ed still has no clue what happened before he passed out, except for the blinding agonising pain he had felt. The pain has now vanished, for which Ed is extremely glad.

He begins down the path once more, heading for his stone manor. Once there, however, he decides to continue toward the village. Not totally sure why, he keeps trudging down the road. He isn’t out of food, or any other supplies, so why did he have this sudden feeling to go to the village?

In the village, there’s noise everywhere. Exactly what Ed hates most. Noise, people. The evening market had just begun, so there were more people in the main square than there usually are. Women calling out for him to buy their wares, men shouting over money, children shrieking and running around people’s legs.

Ed squeezes through the crowd, and stops beside a tiny stall, occupied by only one, frail, old woman, who sits at a spinning wheel, busily spinning fleece into wool. He stares at her for a moment, then a strange feeling comes over him.

White flashes before his eyes, and for a moment, he fears that a similar incident that happened earlier was about to occur once again. He’s surprised when that is not what happens. Instead of pain, a tingling sensation flows through his veins, not painful, but almost pleasant. Visions begin to come into focus. He sees the village, the old woman spinning, he himself standing there, watching. Then time speeds up. He sees the old woman’s hands slip, her fingers getting trapped inside the wheel, causing the old woman to fall to the ground. Her head smacks against the hard, stony ground, hitting a big rock, and suddenly, due to her frail state, she cannot survive the hard fall and hit to the head, and is evidently dead.

Ed blinks, the ominous visions vanishing from his mind. The old woman still spins merrily, not even noticing his presence. The man slowly backs away a little, trying to merge back into the bustling crowds. Just before he slips fully into the crowd, he sees one last thing. The woman’s fingers slip, getting trapped into the still spinning wheel, and she falls, hitting her head on the large rock.

An involuntary gasp rises from the man’s throat, coming out strangled and horrified. He turns and rushes away, his thoughts cloudy. He hears shouts of “Look! Help her!” from the crowd, but he doesn’t stop. He keeps running, right up until he reaches the front gate of his manor. He stumbles to a stop, leaning heavily against the low stone wall lining the edge of his front yard.

What had he just witnessed? Ed’s mind was reeling. He’d just . . . seen the death of that old woman before it really occurred. None of this was possible, but the realisation of the truth was smacking him in the face, metaphorically. He’d just . . . predicted death. Somehow, in some impossible way, it was the truth.

Nadia’s hands shake, exhaustion causing her head to spin. Weariness is making her feel extremely dizzy, and she can barely stand. Her body sways as she gazes over the kitchen, dozens of piles of dirty dishes all over the benches, sinks, and chairs. Everything must be spotless by morning, the vampire creature had instructed her earlier. “Or else,” he’d added, his eyes shimmering with pure evil.

Nadia collapses into a small, unstable wooden chair, it’s legs uneven on the hard floor, making it tilt precariously. Her head throbs horribly, and her body is slowly slipping into sleep on its own.

She forces herself to stand, and walk over to the stone bench top, her steps staggered and uneven. She had to get out. She had to escape.

The man’s head spins, reeling from the strangeness of the past few hours. He knows something happened, something that had to do with the blinding pain, which caused him to fall unconscious earlier. He’d somehow managed to see the future, which predicted the death of that old lady.

Ed shakes himself, trying to focus on something other than the vision he’d experienced. He knew it wasn’t good, at least, it wasn’t not bad, but not particularly good, either.

Ed gazes out at the rolling green meadows, which surround his mansion. In the distance, he can see the village, along with the strange, abandoned manor, a few hundred metres away from where he stands, in his living room. It’s tall, darkly coloured stone walls rise high, with hardly a window in sight. Supposedly, the mansion is haunted, or lived in by a terrible creature, whichever you decide to believe in. Ed believed neither story.

A sudden movement catches his eye. A flash of black, passing one of the smallest, tiniest windows in the mansion. It’s only there for an instant, but Ed swears he sees a face. A ghostly, humanoid creature. Then, it vanishes. Ed glances unsurely at the house, then closes the dark curtains, shutting out the sight of the outside world.

The next morning, at about sunrise, Ed was walking down to the beach, like he did every morning. The cool air was sharp and icy, biting at his exposed nose. The dark haired man stares at the water, the softly folding waves crashing gently against the sand. He breathes deeply, the serenity calming his nerves.

He turns, and walks slowly up the small, winding path, trudging along the cobbled stones. On the way, a short man passes him, his head poking out of a long trench coat. Small wisps of greying hair cover his head, and icy blue eyes pierce into Ed’s brown ones.

“Good morning, sir,” the short man says breezily, his voice cool, slow, and quiet. Ed nods in a simple reply. “Good day to you, as well, sir,” he answers.

“It is a good day, is it not?” The man gazes up at the sun, which is just breaking the horizon, a mix of rosy red, gold, and bright pink colours shining over the lightening sky.

“Yes,” Ed says stiffly, trying to avoid talking too much more. Conversation has never been his strong point. He prefers to lead a purely solitary life.

The man nods at him, then, with a flash, and a sharp sound that reminded Ed of thunder, only tripled in volume, and quickened to barely a millisecond, the man vanishes. One moment he was standing there, right in front of Ed, then, the air seemed to ripple around him, moving and bending as if it were curtains, rustling in the soft breeze. The old man was simply gone.

Ed starts, the shock of what just happened causing his heart to race, pumping heavily in his chest. He stumbles backwards, his arms flailing, trying to grasp onto anything, anything at all. Fear grips him like a tight hand, holding onto his heart as if it was it’s lifeline. Shudders run through Ed, as he squeezes his eyes shut tight. He tries to calm down, to slow his breathing, but the task is difficult.

Ed forces his eyes open, staring at the air, the place where the man had been. Had he ever even been there, or was he simply a figment of Ed’s nonexistent imagination? The man was not sure, and wasn’t sure he even wanted to know.

Turning, he begins up the path once more. But, as he walks steadily up the steep slope, the rocks underneath his feet making soft little scattering noises as his shoes brush against them, he notices something strange happening. He does not seem to be getting any closer to his mansion. The familiar track leading to his house appears to be repeating itself, the notable landmarks appearing again and again. The old oak tree, the large rock formation (which reminded Ed of a giant strawberry), and the paddock of grasses, are all repeating, like a weird, twisted sort of pattern.

Ed stops, confused, angry, and tired. He stares at the oak tree, the one which has burn marks all up its trunk, from the bushfires a few years back. He is sure there’s only one of these oak trees on the path from the beach to his manor. Yet, as it seems, it’s appeared on the side of the path he’s walking on three times over, in about ten minutes. That’s not normal, or even possible.

#edmund pevensie #writing #dark writing #fanfiction #school projects #my writing

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