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Chapter Text

– Rites and Rituals –

Leon knew a few things about his situation. One, His arms were growing tired as he throttled his way through the castle of one Walter Bernhard. Things had gotten a little hairy here and there, and it wasn’t helping him in the long run.

Two, his stubborn disposition was going to get the best of him at some point. Fighting with nothing but anger and rage for his lost beau only did so much, and his resolve and control were slipping. Little attacks kept finding their way to the soft parts of his body that were already injured by previous battles.

Three, Walter knew he was slowly weakening. He could see it in the smug look that oozed over his face, the curl of his lips and glint of his teeth as he thought about his next meal. Walter wasn’t picky, after all. He loved preying on young and beautiful women, and Leon was...A little different from his normal pool of candidates. But, blood was blood at the end of the day.

As a volley of attacks came, Leon did his best to dodge and roll out of the way with his waning strength. Unable to dodge some of the offensive magic, there were parts of his clothes that were charred, crumbling away with each movement he made. Leon drew in a sharp breath through his teeth, trying to compensate for his injuries.

Finally, Leon knew he was running out of luck. He was lucky to have survived the attack on his family when he was young enough to forget. Fortune shone upon him when he drew the perfect sparring matches that put him into knight’s training. The heavens smiled upon him when Mathias had chosen him to be his general, and right hand.

Luck runs out at the most inopportune times. When throwing dice in the alley, betting on who wins a barfight, and apparently when showing down against a vampire Lord that had been terrorizing the nearby villiages. In this moment as he lashed at the vampire and struck the stone floor, he was realizing that luck had given him a pair of snake eyes.

Walter gave a soft wave of his hand and curl of his clawed fingertips, summoning one more charge of a spell. Another burst of magic sent him skidding backwards. He’d braced for impact, but still felt the wind pushed out of him, leaving him gasping afterwards. Doubled over, he tried to get himself breathing properly.

“What’s this? Where did all that big talk go? Have you realized you made a mistake, young Belmont?” Walter goaded with a flash of teeth, flipping his cape behind him as he waited for the former Baron to move. When he didn’t, Walter hummed and walked forward, clawed fingernails glinting in the moonlight that shone through the windows. “Too tired to fight back, ar—“ CRAK! Bemused, Walter only grinned further.

Humming at his opponent’s desperate attempt at an attack., Walter pressed on as the blond tried harder and harder to avoid any further attacks. “Look at you. Pitiful little thing. You’re like a little mouse trying to escape a house cat. You know you’ve been caught, haven’t you?”

Though they were malicious words, his voice held a sort of sweet undertone. Like burning poison laced with honey and lavender. “You...You can’t use your thrall on me, you monster.” Leon huffed, pulling the short sword at his hip. It couldn’t do much—it wasn’t consecrated like the whip. It lacked that one thing that made the Vampire Killer deadly.

“Oh, but I can. I know what you are, little Belmont. You may hide under knight’s armor, but I know…” He cooed lowly, lips curling into a smirk as his prey slowed. His eyes glowed a faint red color, his hunger showing through finally. The draw was irresistable.

Leon could hear his heart thudding in his ears. Words slowed and deepened as his mind became hazy, limbs heavy as lead. Shaking his head, he didn’t see the fist coming at him. Catching his jaw, Walter sent him flying, hitting one of the great pillars of the grand hall, and then to the floor where he lay prone with the wind knocked out of him once again. In a flash, Walter was on top of him, one hand pressed to his chest. He was going to squeeze the life out of him—Or at least break all his ribs and starve him of oxygen. Either way, the sickening pop and crack of ribs pulled an anguished cry from the hunter.

“Tch...no matter how you live, it really doesn’t matter anymore, does it? You’re fated to die here by my hand, it seems.” Pushing a bit farther, another cacophony of splintering bones and a wet cough from Leon made him chuckle. “How does it feel? I can smell the blood on your breath. You’re going to drown in the very thing that gives me life. Ironic, isn’t it?”

Breathing was agonizing, and his body screamed at him to do something. Gripping at Walter’s gauntlet did nothing but smear fingerprints on the dark lacquered piece. Suddenly, the pressure was gone and he let out a wet and foul tasting cough, only to be picked up by the front of his shirt. He could feel blood pooling in his mouth and dribbling out the corner, only to be lapped up by a cool tongue. Disgusted, he couldn’t say anything. It hurt to move, it hurt to breathe, he couldn’t…

“Perhaps I’ll be kind enough to keep you. Such fair and lovely skin, and those beautiful eyes of yours…” A clawed finger tilted Leon’s head up, giving him one last look at the fiery haired vampire. A halo of dark spots were invading his vision, breath ragged and short. “You’d be a wonderful pet...Hopefully you’ll behave. I’d hate to put you in time out with Joachim.” Walter chuckled lowly as Leon’s vision faded out, leaving only the echoing laugh in his ears.

The way the blond’s head lolled to the side was almost too sweet, in Walter’s twisted mind. Just asking for him to bite and break supple skin, to revel in the wonderful taste of blood. It’d be sharp, he knew. Adrenaline gave it that bitter ginseng bite, and depending on other emotions, he—

Shrnk!

The sound of a blade cutting through skin and armor split through his absent thoughts. Looking down at the thin blade sticking out of his breastplate, Walter’s breath wavered in the silence. “I told you not to kill him.” The low hiss of a man’s voice behind him told just who it was.

Walter knew how bad off he was at the moment. The blade itself was just short of his heart. It’d be dangerous to teleport with Leon in tow, but he’d also lose the chance to feed quickly and recover. Self preservation won as the blond fell in a heap on the ground, and Walter disappeared and fell back a few feet with a feral hiss. His assailant stood there with blood on his sword, turning slowly with a heavy glare. He never knew how much he hated green until he saw him. “We had a deal, Cronqvist.” He hissed, baring his fangs as he held his wound. At this rate, it would take minutes he didn’t have to close.

With eyes like ice, the raven haired man glowered at the vampire. “I said that if you defeated Leon, you would have a meal. He is not the meal.” Steely eyes bore through him like a hot poker. Flicking the blood off the thin blade, Mathias approached. He knew Walter was in no condition to teleport once again. He was the one being hunted and cornered. “I specifically told you, ‘Leon Belmont must not die’. And what do you do?” Schwik! His sword managed to split the dark armor, to Walter’s horror, pedaling backwards with a large gash over his breast, the last of it trailing up the side of his face. “You attempt to charm him, crush his ribs, and toss him around like a toy!”

“You saw what he’d done to me! If it weren’t for him growing tired, I would have gotten killed! I—“ Realization clicked into place suddenly. He hadn’t seen it before, had he? Ah, what a fool. “That’s what you wanted, wasn’t it?” Feeling his back up against the wall, Walter stared down at the man with anger and resentment in his eyes. Eyeing the crimson stone around his neck, he gave a soft huff of a laugh. “Perhaps there was a reason why the church appointed you head tactician.”

“There’s a reason why you’re fated to die in your own castle. You lack foresight.” The grotesque sound of armor splitting and the squelch of soft tissues filled his ears. The delicate, yet sturdy silver blade contrasted his armor. Walter watched as Mathias withdrew the crimson coated blade and fell to his knees. “I’d tell you to rot in hell, but that’s not where you’re going.” Plucking the crimson stone from his neck, he held it out before him as the vampire’s soul was pulled from his body. The other trapped spirits that he’d gathered blew past him. Their wispy gusts were nothing compared to the heavy feeling of the vampire soul nearly pummeling him. The heavy weight of it made his mouth curl at the corners, Mathias’ pearly smile was the last thing Walter saw.

Mathias could feel his body grow cold, like walking away from the hearth on a cold night. Power welled up inside him and filled him completely. The strength of one hundred men, and the power to live forever—it all felt astounding, breathtaking and— Oh—

The smell of blood was thick— and with newly awakened power, he could just barely smell death upon his friend’s lips. The silver sword was quickly forgotten, clattering to the floor as he rushed to Leon’s side, tucking the crimson stone into his pocket. “No no no, stay with me—“ Mathias gently lifted Leon, his concern growing as he barely reacted to the grinding and popping of bone. “Leon, please.” He couldn’t lose him too.

“...’thias…” The faint movement of his lips caught his eye, along with the deep red of blood that had dried upon his face. He couldn’t keep his eyes open. The bright blue had turned to dull slate, and the soft freckled complexion blanched to deathly white. He looked like the embodiment of death, as though a plague had ravaged him in record time and left the corpse behind.

To Leon, however, Mathias looked like some sort of angel with the candlelit chandelier behind his beloved friend’s head. The golden flickering halo of candlelight backlit his dark and silky hair, making the corner of his mouth twitch. “You look...beau...ti..” It was too much effort to finish his sentence.

Mathias couldn’t stand the sound of his wet breaths and the unfortunate knowledge that he was slipping away from him. “Don’t you dare give in. You can’t die like this—what about...what about avenging Sara, or, or—“ He sputtered, patting Leon’s cheek to keep him at least a little bit awake. “You cannot die! That is an order!”

“I’m afraid that’s an order that cannot be obeyed.” Cold air filled the room as a dark shrouded figure loomed over the two of them. Scythe in hand, Death itself had come to pay a visit, and reap the soul of the fading knight. “This one has eluded me before. The creatures of the night that slew his family...they should have taken him, too.” The skeletal head tilted to the side, the eyeless gaze meeting Mathias’ now red stare. “Shall I take him, Master?”

That was right. He had dominion over Death now, didn’t he? Opening and closing his mouth, he shook his head and tugged his knight closer. “You won’t be doing such a thing. Not if I can help it.”

“It is inevitable. He is drowning in his own blood. Soon, his heart will stop.” Sure enough, his chest heaved in small bursts, slowed considerably since Mathias brought him into his arms. “I can assure a peaceful departure into the afterli—“

“NO.” He wasn’t going to be taken from him. Not like Elisa. He bore his teeth instinctively now, snapping his jaw at the unwavering entity. Smoothing back the blond curls, he was running out of time. He almost felt lighter now… like he weighed as much as a bag of feathers. Limp as a ragdoll, Leon’s consciousness was elsewhere.

Leon was unaware of how fragile he looked. How, even in his unaware state, his head fell back to expose both of the grand arteries that had carried his vitality for years. He was also unaware of Mathias’ growing desire to break skin and feast like it was his last supper.

Mathias growled lowly like a wild dog. He was hungry. Like he hadn’t eaten in days, and all the moisture in his mouth had left him. “God won’t take him away from me.” Mathias bowed his head and poised his pearly fangs over a feeble heartbeat. He could barely feel it against his lips. “No one will take him away from me.”

There was no reaction. Perhaps the slight twitch of fingers as nerves were set off, or the soft exhale of subliminal surprise. But the taste...The taste of blood in his mouth warmed him through, like mulled wine on a cold day. It tasted like the warmth of the sun, cedar logs burning on a bonfire. It made his head spin as he pulled back ever so slightly, making sure not to waste a drop. Like sweet honey and lightning all at once, he swore he could just keep going until—

You’re going to bleed him dry if you keep going.

Just take a little.

And give it back.

It’s the law of equivalent exchange, no?

Instinct told him to stop, blood smudged over his lips and eyes turned a cloudy red. He could take more. But he shouldn’t. Raising his wrist to his mouth, Mathias hesitated for a moment, then bit down with a low grunt. His own blood was already starting to thicken, slow moving as it pooled in his mouth and flowed over his tongue. Bitter, acidic, full of venom…

He can’t partake on his own like this.

Closing his eyes, he let more blood fill his mouth, the taste of himself nearly making him gag. How horrible… He couldn’t waste this. Not a drop would be spilled in vain.

When the wound finally closed on its own, he was left with a mouthful of crimson poison, and one Belmont on the edgeof something horrible and bittersweet.

You’ve waited for this. It’s an unholy union, isn’t it? A ritual binding both of you together.

Bringing his lips to meet Leon’s, he pressed a thumb to his lower lip and held his mouth open while letting his blood flow. Now all there was to do was wait. Pulling him closer, Mathias had tried to read up on vampirism and how the transformation worked with natural-born vampires. People like Walter who were turned by demons, or vampires older than even him—Mathias was different in the sense that he used alchemy to change himself.

“You’re lucky he is not awake for the transformation.” Death was still here? Didn’t he have elsewhere to be? “It’s painful, so I’m told. Like salt in a deep wound, leeching away all life from the body. Whatever blood is left in him, it’s being ‘devoured’ by what you’ve given him.”

“Is that so?” Mathias said softly, moving carefully, as if he’d somehow wake Leon from his near death slumber. Slouching off his velvet shroud, he wrapped the other up, and proceeded to pick his limp body from the ground. There was so much blood everywhere…It was a miracle that he held on for so long. “I’ll be doing everything I can to ensure that nothing will hurt. You should know he’s dealt with enough pain already.”

Death only bowed his head slightly, then looked to the windows above. “Now that Walter is no longer Master of the castle, dawn will surely break at any moment. It’s best to leave now, my lord.”

“Very well, then.” Shifting his weight to move the body in his arms, Mathias sighed and gazed once more at the pale face peeking out from behind the lush fur of his robe. “I’ll keep you by my side. You’re all I have left in this world.”

.. .. .. ..

The memory itself was faded, bits and pieces worn away and forgotten. The bits that he did remember were bright. Crunchy. It had snowed the night before, hadn’t it? It sounded like he was walking on corn starch. His feet were cold as he walked along, the boots were not his own, but his brother’s.

They were gone now, weren’t they?

All of them had been...lost to the night.

He remembered puffy eyes and runny noses, the soft mutters of sad things. ‘The poor child’, ‘Such an innocent soul’, ‘What a tragedy…’. They all made him feel a pit in his stomach. His childhood house was burned to the ground. Little trinkets were saved in a little pewter box for him. Rings, rosaries, and other little religious items that had once belonged to his parents and siblings.

“Father Jean, you’re set on raising him in the convent?” Leon was more focused on the hems of Lady Cronqvist’s dress, and the fine shoes that the patriarch of the house was wearing. “The child is the last of a family of hunters—I hope you reconsider.”

Another pair of shoes entered his field of vision, prompting him to look up. Their eyes met quite suddenly—blue meeting grey with enough energy to block out the conversation above them.. “Perhaps it would be wise to teach him. Jonquil and I were close enough that I have some of his books.”

The conversation between the adults went on, and Leon hid behind the cloak of the patriarch of the church. The child before him was taller than he, and a bit more lanky under his cloaks and robes. Hair was long, and he almost looked like a girl. Pretty.

“You don’t have to be afraid, you know. It’s going to be okay.” He spoke like one of the adults, well rounded and articulated. Tilting his head, he offered a hand and gave a little smile. “I am Mathias. It’s nice to meet you, Leon.”

Leon peeked out from behind the church patriarch, gingerly taking his hand as though it were glass. Soon enough, he eased his way out from behind his hiding spot. His hands were warm…His lower lip quivered. After three days of silence from the young boy, a sob ripped through his chest and he flung himself at the raven-haired boy.

“Leon—” Father Jean hesitated to pull him away, but Mathias shook his head. “He’d been so quiet, I didn’t…”

“Poor thing most likely doesn’t know why he’s crying. He’s just letting it out as it comes to him.” Lord Cronqvist noted, watching as his son tucked the blond under his cloak and hugged him. “At least allow him to take possession of what’s left of Jonquil’s library. We can hold them until he’s of proper age.”

“Alright,” Father Jean sighed, shaking his head. “And if he has no interest in such things, they will be burned. The Belmont family’s dabblings in the world of monsters and occultism was what led to their demise after all. No need to keep such dangerous materials here.”

When all was said and done, what Leon remembered most about this memory was how safe he felt like this. And Mathias didn’t seem to mind that he was being used as a handkerchief. Perhaps it was out of sympathy, or something more? A little spark of intuition told him to keep this new friend close, perhaps?

The friendship started bittersweet, but as the world grew warmer with spring, their friendship blossomed like the plum trees that lined the old church where Leon flourished.

Seasons came and went, years went by and the two grew up side by side. Mathias grew in a home that expected him to learn all he could about the world around him. He himself picked up alchemy, studying medicine in stride for his betrothed.  Though frail, her kind soul and beauty warmed his heart through and through.  The normally somber Mathias seemed to grow softer and more mild around her in the days that followed their betrothal.

Leon grew like a weed, learning a little differently from Mathias, but just about as bright as he. Leon learned of battle techniques and strategy, religion and rites as well. When he came of age, he devoured the books his family had left behind, pursuing the secrets of the unseen world in his free time.  Often seen with notebook in hand, he wrote his own crude bestiary at fourteen, aiming to rewrite it when he was older.  Soon enough, knighthood found him at sixteen.  One could describe him as a golden boy with a halo of blond hair sticking out everywhere. He continued to grow by learning to fight with every weapon he picked up.

They thought they were unstoppable.

They thought fortune and luck would forever be on their side.

But luck, life and fortune all run out eventually.

Chapter Text

—Empty Shells—

He’d been there when Leon had drawn his first breath since that day. Mathias was certain it had been almost two months of checking up on his friend, turning, grooming, and hoping that he would come around.

“Don’t get too excited. He isn’t fully there yet.” Death had taken a liking to staying around the keep that Mathias had traveled to. Far away, and at the edge of Wallachia.

“What do you mean?” Watching the blond draw more shallow breaths, it was as though he were watching a new creation come to life. A being clad in the darkest black, white gold, and a royal blue like the tabbard he used to wear.

“Leon Belmont is not with us right now. He is not like you, Master. His body is waking up long before his mind. His mind believes he is dead. The body acts upon instinct, and it won’t recognize you at first.”

“Speak in a way that I understand, Death. Tell me, without flowery speech or useless riddles.” Movement caught his eye as fingers twitched and the breath became deeper. He couldn’t believe it. Two months of traveling by night, seeking out a grand castle to become his new home. Two months of making sure that not one bedsore blemished his skin.

Waiting all this time to watch his dearest friend rise once again. Slowly but surely, gently and painstakingly.

“You may want to step back.” Death eased itself away from the bedside, bowing a shrouded skull at the oak frame.

“Why would I—“ The answer came quickly as a clawed hand came out of nowhere, just missing the raven-haired man’s face. Sheets were torn off the bed and strewn over the side of the canopy bed. The sound of a low, predatory growl set his instincts ablaze. “Now I see.”

Almost on cue, the white sheet between the blond and Mathias slipped from the canopy. On one side, Mathias stood with his head bowed slightly and expression set into a heavy stare, whereas the creature known as ‘Leon’ crouched on the bed, long gashes on the mattress spilling goose down everywhere.

“Nngh...ngh! Nhah!” His hands clutched his head, voice sounding something between a wild animal and a tortured soul.

“Leon, listen to me--!” Another swing of the claws as Mathias tried to get closer, and his shirt was split at the shoulder, blood soaking through quickly. “Tch!”

“I told you.” Death leaned on its scythe, watching the exchange of clawed swipes and angry snarls until Leon caught the scent of blood. “For now, he is like an animal. Animals need to be tamed, and fed. There’s no memory, no conscious thoughts, only the need to survive.”

Death’s point was made more solid as the blond’s eyes opened.

Mathias saw nothing. It was as though he was staring at a starved lion stalking its prey. The being before him snarled, showing pearly white teeth in a display of sorts.

“Then tame the animal I shall.” Mathias snarled back, taking a clawed swipe at the being that looked like Leon. The blond was still quick, rolling off the back of the bed and landing on its feet, hissing loudly. It was hard to believe that this was only instinct, especially as he watched the other launch himself across the room in an attempt to grapple him.

It was like watching a pair of dogs fighting, though most dogs don’t sound like hell beings being dragged from the deepest depths of Tartarus. The more frustrated he got with this fledgling vampire, the more he didn’t mind throwing a few punches and raking claws over its skin.

Finally, he threw the blond to the stone floor and held him down as he snarled in his face, hand on his throat. The fledgling’s teeth were also bared, the whites of his eyes turned red. Mathias’ were the same, bloody tears streaking down his cheeks. “Damn you...Do you have to act like a damned animal? How long are you going to be like this?”

“At least its stopped squirming. It knows you’re the sire. Now feed it.”

The hunger must have kickstarted the waking process. Blood in the air made it worse. Mathias laughed breathlessly, shaking his head as dark strands fell out of the now loose ribbon slipping out of his hair. “I don’t dare let you bite me. You’ll rip my throat out, won’t you?”

The creature that looked like Leon bore its teeth though it had been caught. It would be a fool’s idea to even think about letting go of him at this point. Sighing heavily, Mathias knew he needed to be fed, and it wouldn’t be pretty.

Biting his wrist as he did when his friend nearly died, this time he didn’t hold his own blood in his mouth. Instead, he let it breathe; dribbling blood upon the lips of the hungry fledgling. “Good, isn’t it?” It still struggled under him, writhing and grabbing at his arms until Mathias relented and let him drink from his wrist. “That’s it…”

A few moments in, and Mathias finally bowed his head and sighed. Laughing softly, he shook his head. “If he were in his right mind, Leon would absolutely hate himself right now.”

“For being a mindless animal? I believe humans are such as it is.” Death spoke, their jaw clacking in a sort of ‘smile’. “Then again, I have a different opinion on humans.”

“I’ve noticed. It’s easy to have an opinion when you’re an unchanging concept of life.” He groaned lowly and adjusted himself, allowing himself to relax a bit and allow his ‘friend’ to feed without restraint. “How long before he regains his mind?”

“I do not know.” Death leaned against its scythe and titled its head, looking upwards thoughtfully. “I do believe that feeding regularly helps. But I could be wrong.”

“It wouldn’t hurt, though. I want the best for him. I always have.” Thoughts of their past lives as humans dredged up all sorts of things. Wartime, bandaging wounds, studying together, Mathias’ wedding and the betrothal of Leon and Sara. They were always so close, especially considering how they both led their own lives. “Elisabetha said it best. We were nearly conjoined at the hip. Sometimes I wondered if he could read my mind. Though...I couldn’t make sense of his...Even more so now.”

“Right now, his mind is nothing but instinct and chaos.” Looking down upon the blond with another clack of their jaw, Death sighed. “But this will subside. The body remembers, and will remember this. Soon, the mind shall follow.”

“I certainly hope so.”

… … … …

“You’re making that face.” The tent never felt so small before. The war table was set up with a map tacked down on the oak slab, and Mathias was hunched over it, trying to make sense of it.

“What face?” Mathias chewed on the inside of his lip, furrowing his brows as he traced where one of the generals had plotted a course of action. “I’m not making a face.”

“You are. You’re making the ‘This man is an idiot, why is he a man of power?’ face.” Leon stood before the table, polishing a sword with a rag, inspecting it for any damage. “Blast. It’s crooked now.”

“Your ribs will be too if you don’t take a break from binding. We’re two days out from the next camp, and the scouts haven’t seen anything thus so far.” Arching a brow, he shook his head and grumbled something under his breath. “Anton is an idiot.”

“We both knew that, and yet here we are.” Sheathing the sword, the blond wandered over to the table and looked over it as well. “He’s really itching to march straight into the enemy camp, isn’t he? He knows they could flank us on either side, doesn’t he?”

“All he wants is to charge into battle and fight things. I hope they turn him into a boat.” Mathias smiled a bit at Leon’s sudden snort of amusement. Picking through a couple items at his desk, Mathias’ expression dropped again as he looked over one of the letters he’d been delivered.

“Uh oh. I know that look, too.” It wasn’t a good one. He looked like he was processing information, and it wasn’t all that good. He was also trying to plan something while he was reading. A quick rebuttal, or a backup plan.

“Elisa’s medicine isn’t working as I’d hoped. I can’t have them giving her too much, otherwise it might do more harm than good.” Mathias sighed, folding the letter back up. “I’ll have to send word back. The old medicine I’d originally made worked better, but it made her sleepy.”

“She’s always had issues with breathing, hasn’t she? Do you know what’s causing it?”

“Her parents said that she was born weak, and became ill at a young age. Her lungs took the brunt of it. You saw what happened at our wedding. She became too excited and couldn’t hardly breathe.”

“You also had her brought down the aisle on a miniature throne. She looked like she could be fae nobility.” She really was beautiful, though. Just the look on Mathias’ face when he saw her was enough proof that he was fully devoted to Elisabetha. There was nothing but love on that man’s face on that day.

“Walking that far would cause her to go into a fit. And we had to plan for a day that wasn’t too hot or cold.” The raven haired man went to work scrawling out a note to send back, still biting the inside of his mouth as a nervous outlet. “We’ve got two months before we head back...sooner if things go well. You’re probably looking forward to seeing Sara again, aren’t you? How is that going, by the way?”

He changed the subject. He didn’t want to worry himself too much.

“Things are going well. I got word from her the other day. She should be staying for the summer while her father goes farther east. He has plans to go to Constantinople for more trades. I really hope he comes back with more chai. Maybe a nice rug, too.”

“Staying for the summer...You two seem quite serious. Have you started holding hands yet?”

“Of course we’ve held hands.” Leon spat, crossing his arms with a little huff. He sounded like a bristled tabby cat. “And for your information, we are quite serious. I just...don’t know if I feel the same way she does.”

“Oh?” He was curious this time. Turning around, he tilted his head. “Care to explain?”

Smoothing his hair back, Leon gathered his words to the best of his ability. “She thinks the world of me. She knows that I’m unlike most men, and she accepts my truths. Sara is...She’s delightful to be around, she has the social status that a Baron should associate with, but…” Another pause, and a moment of thought. “She’s someone I could spend the rest of my life with, but at the same time, I don’t love her as she loves me.”

“I don’t understand.” Confusion dotted his tone, brows furrowed. He was trying to simplify it, wasn’t he? “You both seem as though you’d be perfect together.”

“I understand that, but—I don’t know how to explain it. I love her, yes, but it’s not the same as say, my love for chai, or the sisters that raised me. I love her like I love my friends and those I care about. She loves me like you love Elisabetha. It’s not as deep a love as yours, but it’s in the same vein.”

“I see…” It made sense, though. Leon had only known Sara for a few months. She’d fallen headfirst in love with him, whereas he seemed to see her as a friend—close knit from the start. “That interpretation almost makes me wonder how you think of me.”

Leon’s ears grew pink in an instant, though he played along as though he hadn’t noticed. “You’re different. It’s...hm. This is difficult to explain.”

“Alright, we’ll break it down. Does it stem from the mind, body or soul?”

“Eugh, not the body. I have feelings for you, but not like that. Mind and soul, then. We’re similar, you and I. The fact that I can read you like a book is proof of that. I’d have to say...I love you like you’re my own. Two flames lit from the same fire, two souls walking side by side.”

“That’s something that only a few people experience in a lifetime.” Mathias blinked, taken aback by his words. “I never knew you felt for me like that.”

“Well, you never asked.” Leon grinned, leaning with his hands on the tabletop once again. “Now the question is, do you feel the same about me?”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’ll have to mull it over. I haven’t given much thought as to how I feel about you. I do know that I feel differently when you steal my blankets when I’m out.”

“That was once, and you said you were fine without them! Don’t blame your cold feet on me, I’ve been telling you to wear some stockings to bed for years now!”

Squabbling like this wasn’t abnormal, as it was more so just playful banter and joking amongst two friends. Though, as time went on, Mathias found that Leon had explained their bond quite well. Lit from the same flame, two souls destined to travel through time side by side.

In time, he found that he could never read Leon as Leon read him.

It seems he’d never fully understand what thoughts bounced around in Leon’s head.

Chapter Text

—Empathy—

“I can’t imagine what he’s going through right now.” In normal funerary fashion, it had rained the whole day. Through the wake and the burial, it was all grey skies and mourning. “Losing someone like that...my heart aches just thinking about it.”

Sara brushed her hair in the polished silver mirror before her, glancing back to Leon, who was in a state of undress. Peeling off still-damp clothes, he’d send them off with one of the hired hands to have them washed and pressed, along with the rest of the laundry.

“He’s in a fragile state. He’s given up, essentially. He’s asking himself why God has forsaken him and why he let Elisabetha die. People get sick, they die. Even if you do everything right, sometimes it just...” Leon said softly, muscle memory took over as he peeled off his undergarments. “I feel like there’s nothing I can do. It’ll never be enough.”

Sara turned and strode over to the armoire where her beau stood. “You’re doing all you can, Leon. You can’t bring her back or mend the wound overnight. It just takes time.” She watched as he drew in a heavy breath, wiping his face with the heel of his hand. As he wept quietly, Sara tightened up her robe and wrapped her arms around him and held him close, feeling his body tremble. “I didn’t know Elisabetha as you did, but I know that Mathias loved her more than life itself.”

“Part of him has died, Sara. I don’t think he’ll come back from this.” Leon knew that Mathias wasn’t long for this world at this point. He was already half dead, his heart crumbled like incense ashes. Leon felt like he was already in mourning for the death of his dearest friend.

Shifting in her embrace, Leon turned and leaned down, wrapping his arms around his lover as his body shuddered. It had been a long time since he’d cried like this. Though, it was quieter than the last time. He just wished he could fix everything so that nothing would hurt. No pain, no heartbreak, no sadness and loss. He just wished he could make it all stop.

… … … …

“...My lord, I do believe the Belmont is awake again.” Death looked up from the texts he was reading, tilting his head as something broke somewhere up in the castle. Making a home for himself, Mathias’ power was growing at an exponential rate, and he had plenty of help in building on to the fortress he had started with. Rain poured outside, as though the heavens were testing the masonry, making sure that there were no leaks or cracks in the stone walls. So far, only two pots had been set out to catch the leaks. Still, Mathias thought it was two pots too many.

“It’s been six days since the last time he’s awakened.” Mathias rose from his desk, scrawling down the date quickly before rolling up his sleeves and tying his hair back. It had become a sort of ritual before tending to Leon, and it seemed to help keep his hair from being pulled out. “Perhaps today, we’ll graduate from biting to drinking from cups.”

“I highly doubt it. He still has the mind of an animal. As I said before, it will take time.” Death shook its head and went back to reading as Mathias departed. “This is perhaps the slowest change I’ve seen in eons. Even my former master had turned quicker than this.”

Mathias ignored the comment, striding with purpose and a stern look on his face. Seeing his dear friend like this put an ache in his heart. He knew Leon would hate himself if he could see this—not just because of his vampiric state, but because how...monstrous he was acting. Despite being humble and kind, Leon had a sort of standard he put himself to. He hated being inebriated, for fear of making a fool of himself. He never allowed people to know when he was sick; the one time he let Mathias tend to him, he was feverish and fainted at his lord’s side when he was still in his training days.

The sound of glass shattering and heavy objects moving could be heard in the distance, growing louder as Mathias strode quickly down the hall. Demons, ghouls and animated skeletons worked all the same, the dull glow of magic in their eyes as they gawked and stared at their master in reverence. Soon enough, he stood before the heavy oak door to Leon’s room, drawing a breath as he turned the handle slowly.

Silence came as he peered in, ruby eyes staring down at the crouched figure ‘hiding’ behind the destroyed bed in the center of the room. “Leon. I know you’re in there.”

The blond glared back with piercing eyes, the whites turned red in hunger. He growled like a mountain lion, but didn’t move. He just watched as the now familiar raven-haired man slowly entered his domain.

“You’re better than this. You’re in there somewhere, and it’s time to stop this. It’s been months.” He spoke to the blond like he was a child, curling his lip ever so slightly in disdain. He hated seeing the feral eyes; So harsh and sharp. He yearned to see those soft blues and that warm smile he knew so well. Instead, he was met with bloody red and a color he couldn’t name. Perhaps it was because they lacked color, like a rabbit’s. He hated the comparison.

Leon curled his lip and hissed, showing all his teeth—pearly white and deadly, even to a vampire like Mathias. The former knight’s clothes hung off him like a partially dressed corpse, his whole torso visible through the neck hole as he crouched. Mathias had learned that dressing him in extravagant clothes only ended in shredded fabric and torn seams. It only made him think of how Leon would hate how he looked on top of how he was acting.

Slowly, the blond stood in a half hunched state, the low growl in his chest rumbled as he stared. It might be another day of feeding from the wrist, or a ‘pin and placate’ sort of day. Standing was an improvement, though. “That’s it…very good, Leon.” Carefully picking his steps, Mathias moved slowly. He liked to think he knew how Leon fought, caring more for heavier weapons in combat rather than scimitars and rapiers. Any sort of attack would be brutal in this state.

Leon’s eyes tracked him as he slowly sidestepped along the room, keeping his head bowed slightly. His lashes had bleached out white, and his hair lacked the warmth it had before. Curls turned into a matted mess in the back, bedraggled in the front like a gorgon’s mane. “You know me. Mathias. I feed you.” He tried not to hiss, keeping an even yet shaky tone.

The fledgling vampire before him huffed, still staring at him with hungry, feral eyes. He was tired of waiting. Tired of waiting for food. Fresh food. He felt like a babe suckling from a wet nurse on her seventh child! He may as well be drinking sour milk! Leon bristled as Mathias came closer yet again, raking claws over the raven-haired man’s chest. Blood hit the air, thick and rotten, making the blond’s nose curl up in disgust, teeth showing under curled lip. Disgusting. He watched as the man before him recoiled, his own gray eyes surrounded in red. He had a tendency to cry while this happened. Bloody tears streaked down his face. Funny.

The thought of it made Leon’s lips quirk into a smile for a moment, a light huff of breath that sounded like a laugh passed his lips. Mathias blinked, the whites of his eyes quickly returning to their original color. “Leon?” The man seemed befuddled, if not a little bewitched by his reaction. Why? It was silly to cry blood tears for no reason. He got too close, and it was natural for Leon to swing at him. Was that his name? Leon?

‘Leon’s eyes did not change, only staring at him in annoyance now. He was wasting time. He could smell something sweet and divine from farther out. In the rain and muck and mire, he could smell an entire village aching for him to drink his fill. Yet, the raven-haired man started in closer once again.

Leon gave a growl in warning, crouching down once again. The door. The door was wide open, the idiot forgot to close it behind him. The sound of minions puttering away and the rain outside made his ears perk up. And oh, that blood.

“Don’t!”

It was the last thing he’d heard before Leon dashed for the door, quick like an arrow freed from a bow string. Mathias (that was his name, right?) darted out after him, hitting the wall as he scrambled behind him. They were both ‘new’ in their powers. Mathias had a little more control over himself, but what he had in experience, Leon had in his ‘youth’. He still had old human blood in his veins, slowly ebbing away into thick, vampiric sludge as his body took what it needed. It was a strange process, but it was a process Leon didn’t care about. He cared about his hunger, and how the world smelled so sweet and fresh and delicious.

Darting through the halls, he hopped over banisters and ducked under monster servants that carried loads of bricks and mortar, and past a being that smelled of rot and parchment. The being did nothing but watch him nearly take the front door off its hinges and lunge into the sodden earth, footfalls slipping through the mud as he ran.

“You let him go?!” Mathias roared, stopping short of the door, grabbing Death by the front of its cloak. “Find him!”

“I am not his keeper, my lord. He is not dead, therefore he is not my charge. You’ve created a spawn of your own, and you know not how to compel them?” Death tilted its head at Mathias, jaw clattering softly, as if it were reprimanding him. “There are other vampires in the area. It would be wise to seek him out and make sure he doesn’t impede on their territories.”

Mathias glared up at the entity, eyes back to their blood-frenzied state. More thick blood gushed from his eyes, frustrated tears bubbling up. “It’s still not him, is it? He’s still an animal, isn’t he?”

“I warned you of this. His human mind may be with him yet, but it’s not guaranteed it will return.” Death made Mathias release him, dusting off its robes as it looked to the storm outside. “Perhaps once the beast is stated, a more rational being will re-emerge.”

“He’s going to gorge himself like a tick.” Mathias hissed, readying himself to lunge out into the rain. “Make sure things keep going in the manor as planned. I want the library finished by dawn.” He would have prepared for a hunt as if Leon were a fox, but in this case, he couldn’t prepare himself and a steed fast enough. This needed to be fixed now, if not five minutes ago. He should have been drinking more blood to sustain himself and Leon. He himself tasted what a fresh body could offer, so why didn’t he consider his beloved knight wanted the same thing?

As the trees flew by him, he couldn’t hear the sound of screaming or the smell of spilled blood just yet, but there was still time. There were plenty of large animals that he could track first before he razed a village and burned everything to the ground. Leon wasn’t picky in life, but in death, his tastes could have changed.

.. .. .. .. ..

Thwak! “Augh!” Dust in the air filled his nose as Leon stood over another knight, bright eyes glaring down at him. His tunic was torn, bindings bared to the world around them. Others in their little training platoon didn’t dare look too hard or too long, beings that Leon had already felled Markus. The young man below held his nose as blood trickled over his chin and down his shirt, glaring. “Fucking— You broke my nose! You bitch!”

“And I’ll break more than that if you call me a lady again.” Leon seethed, his normal patience worn thin by days of torment from Markus and his lackeys. “All I ask for is respect as your peer.”

“We’re in training! There is no respect here!” Markus retorted, leaning on one of his companions to help him up to full height. “There’s even less respect for a gi—“ The swift sound of a wooden practice blade cut the air, stopping just short of Markus’ neck as he stood with his companion on his left.

“I’ve done more to respect you as a person than you know. I’ve given you the time of day during training exercises when you should have figured it out on your own. I’ve looked away when your ‘friends’ stranded you without clothes after a night of hazing. I’ve only referred to you as you’ve introduced yourself. I haven’t snooped around, asking what your ‘real’ name is, or made snide remarks about how you look.” Leon’s gaze was still heavy, chest rising and falling with controlled anger. Though, something changed in Markus’ and his companions’ expressions. He watched it creep across their faces. Realization. Fear.

The soft linen of a spring cloak fell on Leon’s shoulders, tucked inward to cover everything from the shoulders down. “I believe it’s not your duty to dole out punishment for misconduct.” The soft voice made Leon lower the practice blade, allowing the others to bow slightly.

“Sir Cronqvist, h-he just attacked me out of nowhere a-and—!”

Mathias raised a hand and shushed the other knights in training, gray eyes narrowed. Resting a hand on Leon’s shoulder, he leaned in and tilted his head, as if taking in the small details. “It looks like a precisely aimed punch. Like he had a moment to think about where to hit you.” He mused, blinking owlishly. “Can’t say he had a small target. Your face is right there, after all. The other option…” He tutted softly, drawing his eyes lower with a soft tutting sound. Others around them snickered at the public display of humiliation, Markus quickly turning red in the face. “I’ll be reporting you to your superior for misconduct on the grounds of harassment. We are all working to become worthy to fight in the name of our Lord. We were all created in his image, Markus. And who are you to insult the work of our Lord?”

Leon blinked, brows pinched. Mathias wasn’t a zealot like some of the men in their company, so why was he babbling as such? It became evident when Markus started to defend himself, jaw flapping in the wind like a floppy sheepskin. Oh. “Sir Cronqvist, I think you’ve done enough. I’ve disrupted training long enough, and it’s not fair that I keep everyone else from honing their skills.”

“Mm, quite right.” Mathias nodded, cold expression turning warm once again as he turned his gaze to Leon, damn near drowning in his cloak. “I’ll report this to your superior, Markus Bonfils. And I’ll make sure that you’re drowning in dishes for the next month.” The words took on a surprisingly sharp edge as Mathias steered Leon away from the others. Once out of earshot, he leaned down slightly. “Did they hurt you?” Soft concern bubbled up like cool spring water in his tone, eyes focused forward as they walked.

“He hurt my hand from when I punched his face.” Leon looked at his knuckles, a couple of them were bruised already from where fist met nose. “Bindings didn’t slip out of place, but moving that quickly makes me sore.”

“You shouldn’t be wearing those for so long, then. In fact, you’re staying in my study with me for the rest of the day.” Mathias ignored the sound of Leon’s protests, squeezing his shoulder in response. “You’re going to hurt yourself if you keep going like this.”

As much as he wanted to argue, he knew Mathias was right. Sometimes his ribs hurt even after he took the bindings off, and ribs would pop lightly if he stretched in the mornings. They shouldn’t do that. “Then tailor me something that does what the bandages do. Find a way to rid me of these things.” Leon’s voice was low and grave, focused forward as they neared the Cronqvist Manor.

“I’ll do what I can. I’m not a tailor or a surgeon, Leon.”

“Just do what you can, then. Make Markus do dishes for two months.”

“Done.”