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Chapter Text

The wind was cold against Vincent’s face as he trudged through his town. He wasn’t surprised by the chilly wind most nights, it was winter after all. 
Vincent’s shuttered, his lips cracking with each movement. His eyes stayed glued to the stone floor beneath him, his boots clicking against the mossy floor. 

His woolly coat barely held in any of his body heat, causing him to shiver. He had begged his mother for another one, but like always, she had ignored his requests. Leaving him to freeze in the harsh winters of the Paris nights.  Once again, the wind blew against Vincent, dragging his coat away from his body. “Merde,” He hissed, pulling his jacket roughly. 

He wished his mother would finally give him some new clothes, instead of the hand-me-downs he had to endure; with all their holes and broken buttons. Which he found outrageous, considering he was the eldest and all of his siblings were girls. 
Vincent’s mother was obsessed with making her daughters pretty for balls and dances, hoping that some rich old man would want to marry one of them. 

Snow crunched under Vincent’s boots as some started to fall from the clouds covering the moon; they landed against his eyelashes, causing him to lift his head. 

Vincent wasn’t sure why his mother had sent him on his wild goose chase. She’d sent him all the way to his Aunt’s house down west, hiding between the trees. He wasn’t even her favourite. His younger sister was their Aunt's favourite out of the bunch; she was the one the woman tolerated the most. 

She was a horrid creature, only liking company when she needed to complain. But she was his mother’s sister, and that meant she wouldn’t be left alone in that house. 

Breaking from his thought, Vincent whipped his head around, eyes darting to the source of the noise. A large carriage covered in black was far, nearing Vincent as he moved closer to the alleys of Paris. Two large black Shire horses pulled the dark carriage. They whinnied and neighed down the roads, passing the interested bystander.
Vincent watched mesmerised, irises following the transport. They soon landed on the tinted windows, not allowing him to see further in.  

After the carriage had passed by, leaving Vincent standing in the cold street, he continued on his journey. His manor was five minutes away, and he really didn’t wish to stay in the freezing snow much longer.  

The warmth embrace hiding behind his manor doors felt sweet flowing onto his face, defrosting his skin already. Upon entering his manor, Vincent was swamped by the maids, asking him all types of questions.  
All of their questions fell on deaf ears when Vincent’s father stepped down, eyes locking with his sons. “Monsieur,” He nodded to his father, trying to slip away. 

The booming voice of his father stopped Vincent from walking any further away. “Oui ?” He mumbled, keeping his gaze stuck to the ground. No words were exchanged as the man made his descent, eyes locked with those of his fathers. 
“Où étais-tu ? [ʷʰᵉʳᵉ ʷᵉʳᵉ ʸᵒᵘ﹖]” His father's loud voice boomed into the corridors, echoing off the walls. “Tante,” The answer was swift and mumbled, causing the older man to scowl. “Gueulard, [ˡᵒᵘᵈᵉʳ!]” That man screamed, making Vincent flinch and repeat his answer louder. “Tante,” Somewhat satisfied with the excuse, the man nodded his head in the direction of Vincent’s room, dismissing him from the conversation.  

The room he entered was dark and cold, seeing as he had left his window open. Vincent groaned, forgetting he had done something as stupid as this. Earlier during the day, the sky had been so clear, he had almost forgotten it was winter. He wished for the breeze to flow into his hair, so, Vincent had opened his window. Soon after he’d opened his window, his mother had tasked him with visiting the miserable woman whom he called his Aunt.  

Without a second thought, Vincent slammed his window shut, missing the dark shadow lingering down in the dirty streets of Paris. His curtains were drawn as he flopped onto the large bed, stuck in the middle of the room. 

A soft knock caused Vincent to shift on his soft bed, the sheets rustling with the movement. "Entrer !" He called out, watching the door open to reveal his younger sister. "Cécilia," Vincent smirked, standing to embrace his sister. 
"Comment vas-tu ? [ʰᵒʷ ᵃʳᵉ ʸᵒᵘ﹖]" She chuckled, palm resting against her brother's cheeks while she placed a gentle kiss onto his forehead. "Tu sasi, [ʸᵒᵘ ᵏⁿᵒʷ]" He mumbled, pulling Cécilia to sit upon his bed.

The night dragged on before the two decided it was best they get their rest. Their mother had decided she wished for all her children to attend this next ball. Apparently, to her, some random Lord had been invited, and she wished to pawn off one of her daughters to the rich man. 
Vincent was unaware why she wanted him to attend, considering he had nothing to offer, but it was best if he let his mother be.  

Such activities never interested Vincent, the crowds, or the back stabbing; he'd rather do more productive things with his time. 
But, such as life, he was to do what his mother asked. 

As he lay squished between his mattress and soft sheets, Vincent’s mind found itself back to the road. Standing by as he watched with astonishment at the large carriage pulling down the street. 
He’d never noticed anyone around Paris with such a mode of transport.

His eyelids began to weigh while his thoughts started to fade into nothingness. The sky outside his closed window carried on, the violent winds pushing the small and weak snowflakes around. 

Vincent's head snapped back as his mother’s fingers tangled within his knotted hair, yanking. “À quand remonte la dernière fois que vous vous brossé ? [ʷʰᵉⁿ ʷᵃˢ ᵗʰᵉ ˡᵃˢᵗ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ᵇʳᵘˢʰᵉᵈ ʸᵒᵘʳˢᵉˡᶠ]” He didn’t answer, wincing when he was pulled back, his fingers holding tightly to the stool as he tried to keep balance. 
“Hé,” He grumbled, jaw clenching. 
“Découpe-le. [ᶜᵘᵗ ⁱᵗ ᵒᵘᵗ]” Vincent’s hand was slapped away from his head. “Tu dois voir ta tante aujourd'hui. [ʸᵒᵘ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᵗᵒ ˢᵉᵉ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᵃᵘⁿᵗ ᵗᵒᵈᵃʸ]” The woman spoke; her voice cold, resemberling that of the harsh winters of France. 

The door to the room squeaked open, allowing a younger girl to peek in. “Mère,” She greeted, eyes locking with Vincent’s through the mirror. She smirked at him as he winced once more, a pained expression stained onto his features. 
He mouthed out words of pleas, hoping his sister could stop their mother’s tyrant on his poor hair.  

“Je peux finir ça, Mère, [ⁱ ᶜᵃⁿ ᶠⁱⁿⁿⁱˢʰ ᵗʰⁱˢ ᵐᵒᵗʰᵉʳ]” The woman hummed, leaving the two alone. “Merci, Cécilia,” Vincent nodded to his sister, massaging his irritated scalp. “You’re welcome,” The younger of the two's accent echoed off the walls. “Didn’t know you were going to start speaking English,” They shared a laugh, communicating in a way that their parents wouldn’t understand. 

Once they had finally gotten settled with each other, their mother had barged in, holding the same glare that seemed to be glued to her expression. “Ta Tante veut te voir, maintenant. [ʸᵒᵘʳ ᵃᵘⁿᵗ ʷᵃⁿᵗˢ ᵗᵒ ˢᵉᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ⁿᵒʷ]” At the mention of his Aunt, Vincent huffed. “Oui, Mère.” 

“Chaque fois que je te vois, tu deviens plus maigre. [ᵉᵛᵉʳᵗⁱᵐᵉ ⁱ ˢᵉᵉ ʸᵒᵘ, ʸᵒᵘ ᵍᵉᵗ ˢᵏⁱⁿⁿⁱᵉʳ]” The old woman growled, shaky hands moving towards her wrinkled lips. She crunched on the bread she held within her grip.  
The woman droned on about all the things in the world she deemed wrong. To the point, Vincent wished himself deaf.  

“Oui,” Vincent mumbled, agreeing with anything that came out of the woman’s feral mind. She continued on with her previous insult, complaining about how scrawny he is, never even once offering food to the boy. 
“Oui,” He muttered again, not bothering to raise his eyes or his voice. The woman didn’t even notice, too self-absorbed in her own drama.  

Vincent was again thrown out into the freezing air. His coat still as flimsy as always. The trees surrounding him held the sun out, not allowing anything to get through.  
He shivered inwardly, hoping he could get more warmth the further he scrunched inward. He wasn’t sure what his Aunt was talking about. Glancing down at his body, Vincent scrunched his face in confusion. Whatever she said about him, was just some dumb thing that happened to pop into her mind. 

The wind howled in Vincent’s ears, the snow levelling up to mid-shins. A sudden noise; something he hadn't heard before, bounced off the trees. The howl quieted, but Vincent didn't move. 

“Merde,” He shivered, his teeth chattering against each other. Vincent tried to run through the snow, scared of what was lurking within the forests. He could feel cold eyes watching, waiting for him to stop moving. 

Like the night before, Vincent’s window was cracked open, allowing anything, or anyone, to slip in. 
He slammed the glass shut, knowing for sure he had never once touched the locks on those windows. “Mère,” He grumbled at the lack of respect his mother had for his room. She had no ounce of respect for anyone but herself and her husband. 

He hoped that if his mother ever decided he could be wedded, his wife would be a lovely creature. Not like anything like his parents' marriage. 

“Dieu,” He grumbled, flopping onto the edge of his made bed. He was glad his mother wasn’t around to scold him for such act. Most likely to yell at him for acting childish. Vincent thought he would never be able to read that woman. She would forever stay a mystery to him.

“Vincent mon cher ! [ᵛⁱⁿᶜᵉⁿᵗ ᵐʸ ᵈᵉᵃʳ﹗]” The loud commotion caused him to raise his head, staring to see who it was that was calling his name so carelessly in the night.
“Coralie,” He groaned as the girl slammed his doors open. “Oh Vincent, tu n'as aucune idée, [ᵒʰ ᵛⁱⁿᶜᵉⁿᵗ, ʸᵒᵘ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ⁿᵒ ⁱᵈᵉᵃ]” She hummed. 

He scrunched his face, finally moving to sit properly on his bed. Whatever his younger sister was going on about he wasn’t sure, although, he never really was. 

“Aucune idée ? [ⁿᵒ ⁱᵈᵉᵃ]” Vincent felt his heart jump into his throat the moment the words falling from his lips finished. 
His sister's body leapt from the air just to squash him, a wicked grin twisted on her painted lips. 

She giggled at her successful disarming, only getting off her brother when he started to suffocate. 

Chapter Text

“Vraiment, Mère ? [ʳᵉᵃˡˡʸ, ᵐᵒᵗʰᵉʳ]” Vincent swatted his mother's hand away, adjusting himself in the mirror. “J’ai l’air bien, [ⁱ ˡᵒᵒᵏ ᶠⁱⁿᵉ]” He grumbled, trying to shy from his pestering mother. 
His five sisters squealing behind him. “Arrêt.” Their mother warned.

He glared at his sisters the more they continued to whisper. His mother tugged his gaze back to the mirror when she started to fiddle with his clothing. “Mère,” He uttered under his breath. “Ça ira bien. [ⁱᵗ ʷⁱˡˡ ᵇᵉ ᵒᵏᵃʸ]” Vincent reassured.
The woman tutted, finally leaving her eldest alone, now, turning her attention to the younger girls. 

Their giggling stopped once their mothers' gaze locked with theirs. Now, on her radar for her perfection, the two youngest squeaked, skipping away before they were handled.
She strode after them, scolding the two because of their immaturity.

“Comment faites-vous cela ? Jour après jour ? [ʰᵒʷ ᵈᵒ ʸᵒᵘ ᵈᵒ ᵗʰⁱˢ﹖ ᵈᵃʸ ᵃᶠᵗᵉʳ ᵈᵃʸ﹖]” Vincent groaned, his eyes rolling towards the three still left in the room. “Nous ne le saurons jamais, [ʷᵉ ʷⁱˡˡ ⁿᵉᵛᵉʳ ᵏⁿᵒʷ]” Joséphine hummed, her fingers gently pushing against her eye laces. “D'accord ! [ᵃˡʳⁱᵍʰᵗ﹗]” Their mother barged in holding her daughters tightly within her grip. “La voiture est arrivée, il vaut mieux y aller. [ᵗʰᵉ ᶜᵃʳʳⁱᵍᵃᵉ ʰᵃˢ ᵃʳʳⁱᵛᵉᵈ, ʷᵉ'ᵈ ᵇᵉᵗᵗᵉʳ ᵍᵒ]”

Vincent was the first out of the doors of the De Gandelus manor, the chilled air hitting his exposed face. He cringed into himself, quickly rushing towards the light coloured carriage. 
He took a swift peek at the horses; the beautiful creatures they were, he always liked to take note of the types of horses that pulled him to his destinations. 
“Dépêchez-vous, [ʰᵘʳʳʸ ᵘᵖ]” The woman scolded, making Vincent realise he’d been admiring the steeds for too long. “Excuses, Mère.” The seven of them barely fit, resulting in them basically sitting on each other’s laps.

The eldest of the children was unfortunate enough to be the one sitting in front of his mother. “Ta chemise est inégale. [ʸᵒᵘʳ ˢʰⁱʳᵗ ⁱˢ ᵘⁿᵉᵛᵉⁿ]” She spoke, the minutes the horses pulled the carriage. “Oui Mère.” He grumbled, not bothering to correct himself. He fixed his irises on the window, the reflection of his dear mother showing. 

He’d admit, give credit where credit were due. She was a beautiful woman. As anyone could see in her children. Celeste De Gandelus was tall, with the right amount of body meat in all the right places; if she wasn’t lurking behind her children like a shadow, people would guess she was childless. 
Smooth, flawless skin covered her muscles. Long dark hair curling up to her waist.

Vincent knew why so many men wanted to wed his sisters. They were as gorgeous as their mother; even more so, considering they didn’t always have scowls. 

“Souviens-toi, [ʳᵉᵐᵉᵐᵇᵉʳ]” She started. “Gardez vos bonnes manières. Surtout vous, Vincent. [ᵏᵉᵉᵖ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᵐᵃⁿⁿᵉʳˢ. ᵉˢᵖᵉᶜⁱᵃˡˡʸ ʸᵒᵘ, ᵛⁱⁿᶜᵉⁿᵗ]” He scoffed, throwing his arms in defence. “Répare ton collier. [ᶠⁱˣ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᶜᵒˡˡᵃʳ]”

Vincent huffed in astonishment. He could even feel the heat coming off the bright manor. He had to admit, he’s never been to a ball during twilight, but, the amount of light made it seem like it was the middle of a summer day. 
If he hadn’t been with his sisters, Vincent would have most likely chickened out. He never was one for big crowds, too claustrophobic. 

He locked his arm with his mother, ascending the stairs towards the ball. He took a deep breath in, shuddering. It had been years since he’d been to a ball with all his sisters.  

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There was nothing that brought more fear to Vincent’s heart than his fathers scowling face.
He gulped, eyes shifting away as he tried not to look. “Vincent.” His mother whispered, slapping her sons arm. “Oui ?” 

“Ta mère me dit que tu as disparu. [ʸᵒᵘʳ ᵐᵒᵗʰᵉʳ ᵗᵉˡˡˢ ᵐᵉ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ʸᵒᵘ ᵈⁱˢᵃᵖᵖᵉᵃʳᵉᵈ]” He shrugged, something he’d forgotten his father hated. 
Before he could get any further scolded, Celeste dismissed her son. 

Deciding it was best to leave, so his father couldn’t drag him back, Vincent scampered away.

He groaned softly, face slamming into his bed. Back relaxing into his cool room. “Merde,” He sighed, hand moving so he could rub the tiredness from his eyes. He shuddered his skin prickling.

His eyes flickered towards the left side of his room, the large windows cracked open. Vincent couldn’t care enough to get up and close them, exhausted from his night. He wasn’t sure what it was to have drained him this much, but whatever it was, his bones creaked with each of his movements.

Before Vincent could consider doing anything, he fell asleep; half of his body hanging off his bed, still dressed in his day clothes. Leaving the crack in his window alone as his mind drifted away into different worlds.

If Vincent had enough energy to close his window, he might have been saved from what was to come. 

A soft shadow lurked into the room, covering the sleeping boy in darkness. At the chill of something in his room, Vincent unknowingly rolled, his legs still hanging off the edge. 
The man’s bulking figure continued its approach, eyes locked with Vincent’s resting body. 
He circled the bed, mouth salivating at the thought of sinking his teeth in. 

A low growl vibrated from his throat, stopping at where Vincent was sleeping. If he had a heart, the man assumed it would have been beating out of his chest. Pumping the black ooze through his veins. 
In his years since, the man hadn’t felt such hunger. 

Vincents' head was pushed to the side slightly, revealing his neck. His blood vessels flowed as spit dribbled onto the exposed skin.
The euphoria the man felt as he dropped onto Vincent, resting against his chest. Ears listening to the thumping of his heart.

”Oh,” He groaned, fingers wrapping around Vincent’s neck and tightening so that his nails could dig into the tender skin. The boy stirred, waking from the pain. But the man wouldn’t allow it, teeth sharpening. His mouth bled, making the stench of blood flow throughout the room. 

Now, since his blood had dropped, Vincent’s movement stopped. The scrunch stuck on his face fell, the crease of his brow straightening while his lips parting as his jaw slackened. Fists uncurling while he completely stilled.

The man had figured out sometime during his younger years, his blood tended to relax people, making them compliant in his feast.

His nails splintered out of his fingertips, bending in a spiral as they dug further into Vincent’s neck. But he didn’t move, he didn’t squirm or make a noise. Completely out of it thanks to the blood stinking up the room. 

Eventually, the man got tired of his wait. Now, he could feast and eat till his heart's content. Leaving Vincent’s body for the next morning, for his parents to find.

A loud creaking stopped the man, just inches away from Vincent’s jugular. “Rahat,” He muttered, teeth sinking back into their gums, revealing themself like humans. 

“Vincent,” A girl wandered in, dressed in a pale night gown; the long sleeves matching the length of the gown itself. Her hair was dropped to her waist, swaying around as she skipped towards her brother. “Vince,” She giggled.

Her eyes squinted, confused why her brother didn’t answer. “Vincent, es-tu réveillé ? [ᵛⁱⁿᶜᵉⁿᵗ, ᵃʳᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃʷᵃᵏᵉ﹖]” She questioned, climbing onto the bed beside her brother. “Bonjour,” She mumbled, poking Vincent’s cheek.  
Noticing he was out cold, Coralie decided she was best to leave. She huffed softly, muttering words at her older brother, hoping he would wake if she said something mean enough.

The creature’s smile returned itself to his face the moment the girl had left the room, closing the door. He unstuck his claws from the ceiling, large holes now implanted themselves in Vincent's roof.
The man listened closely, hearing the thumps of footsteps fade.

He watched his prey sleep peacefully, unaware of his soon-to-be fate. He felt stirring in his stomach, a burning. Since he had waited longer to quench his thirst, the man jumped onto the bed, the mattress bouncing at the weight.  
Spit formed behind his gums, spilling out over his lips, leaking back onto Vincent's face. He trembled, the ache of starvation infiltrating his body. The bed sank the further the man bent down, the corners of his lips fracturing out to expose more of his teeth.

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Vincent held his face within his hands. Warm tears streaming down his cheeks as he tried to hold in his whimpers. 

What his sisters had said was untrue. It had to be. He wasn’t moping around because she was getting married; he was doing it because he knew who she was marrying.  
He could only guess what that Lord had done, what he would do. 

There was no debate in his mind; Vincent had to help his sister. Even if that meant she’d hate him for the rest of her life. It would be better than her being dead.

Vincent stood from his floor, finished with his pity party. He needed to do something before the Lord got here. Before the Lord could take his sister from him. 
There was so much for him to do, but he didn’t know how to start. 
A knock broke his focus, but he opened his door anyway. "Oh," His mother started. "Tu as l'air terrible. [ʸᵒᵘ ˡᵒᵒᵏ ᵗᵉʳʳⁱᵇˡᵉ]" She huffed. "Rafraîchissez-vous, le Seigneur est là. [ʳᵉᶠʳᵉˢʰ ʸᵒᵘʳˢᵉˡᶠ, ᵗʰᵉ ˡᵒʳᵈ ⁱˢ ʰᵉʳᵉ.]" 

Everything stopped, Vincent's heart felt like it did too. He bit his tongue, feeling the blood wash into his mouth.  How long had it been? There was no way he had been in his room for long enough for the Lord to get here. 
Vincent glanced at his window, staring at the grey orange spread across the sky.

He gulped down his fear, nodding along with his mother. 

It was there again, the feeling. Eyes following him even when no one was around, when no one was looking. It was like there was a target on his back that everyone could see but him. Who had put it there, Vincent didn't know. But he had his suspicions. 

Cècilia looked beautiful, wearing a soft white gown. It reminded Vincent of a wedding dress; maybe it was meant to be. 
Blood was pumping throughout him, like he'd run all the way home from his Aunts. 

There was a dark carriage sitting outside the manor. The horses stood still, not even a whine came out of their mouths. It was like they were frozen in time. 
Vincent couldn’t see anyone sitting inside the transportation. But he felt it; those hungry eyes watching him, starving for a taste.

Vincent stood hopelessly by as he watched his sister being taken away. In all one moment, the carriage disappeared into the distance and taking his sister along with it.

It took him a while for Vincent to be pried away from the front doors, unusual for his mother, but she began to get concerned by his blank stare.

A crushing feeling squished against his heart. Vincent had lost his window and now, his sister was going to suffer. His room felt colder than it ever did, completely silent to the point his ears didn’t even ring. There was nothing for him to do, nothing for him to help.

”Merde,” He muttered, bottom lip shivering softly as the weight of what was to come crashed down, burning through his body. Vincent crumbled into himself, holding tightly as his sobs filled the frozen room. 
He exhausted every idea of how to help. There was nothing he could do to help her. His chances passed and now, his sister hated him with the same outcome.

So lost in his weeping, he didn’t notice his door screeching open. “Vincent ?” He didn’t listen, wrapping his hands over his ears. “Est-ce que ça va ? [ᵃʳᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ᵒᵏᵃʸ﹖]” He pressed them against the side of his face tighter, his tears straining his sheets. “Vincent!” Everything got caught up, and he couldn’t breathe properly anymore. It was too hard. “Mère!” 
Augustine called out, scared of her brothers suffocating. She screamed for her mother again, rushing to Vincent when he started choking on his spit. 
“Que se passe-t-il ?! [ʷʰᵃᵗ'ˢ ᵍᵒⁱⁿᵍ ᵒⁿ﹖﹗]” The question fell on death's ear the moment Celeste saw her son. Now fallen on the floor, clutching his body as he choked on nothing, his younger sister weeping.

”Espèce de garçon idiot. [ʸᵒᵘ ˢᵗᵘᵖⁱᵈ ᵇᵒʸ.]” The woman huffed, pressing her palm against Vincent’s forehead. “Mére," He whispered, leaning into her touch; eyes red and worn down, his skin pale as his cracked lips bled.

Celeste held her tongue, stopping herself from criticising her son. He held his body to his mother, wanting any amount of contact. “Mére,” He spoke, his voice soft and broken from all the crying.

She sighed, the scrunch in her bow unknotting itself. “Dors bien. [ˢˡᵉᵉᵖ ʷᵉˡˡ.]” Vincent was left alone with his consuming thoughts. He felt like he would start crying had he not drained himself.

”Mére,” He groaned, standing from his bed as his sheets slid off. He didn’t know why his mother liked to open his window. Almost every time he stepped into his room, his window was open.

The cool breeze rushed, luckily for Vincent, it hadn’t snowed. His fingers touched the latch, the cold metal freezing his skin. It happened all before he could process, his back slamming against the floor. His spine arching, trying to get away from the hard surface. 
There was no time before his head was slammed down. “Feast,” Something growled, causing Vincent to kick it back. The beast leapt off him, allowing him to back away. “Tu,” Vincent hissed. “Crying for your sister?” His scowl softened, heart thumping at the mention of his long-gone sister. 

“Qu'est-ce que tu as foutu ?! [ʷʰᵃᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ʰᵉˡˡ ᵈⁱᵈ ʸᵒᵘ ᵈᵒ﹖﹗]” The Lord smirked, standing from the floor. "I will not answer anything if you speak that language." Vincent sighed, still glaring into the glistening eyes. "My sister, you better not have done anything or else I'll-" The Lord cut him off, moving closer as Vincent backed away. "You'll what?" He chuckled. 

There was an unsettling silence pressing down on Vincent; he would have stood from the dirty door if he could. "Please," He reasoned. "What do you want with her, you, diable," He chuckled lowly, the dark clothes covering his figure blocking the moonlight.
"It's not your sweet little sister I want." The implications caused Vincent to shiver softly, trying not to show anymore weakness. 

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Blood dropped freely from Vincent’s nose while he leaned against the wall, his fingers trying to scoop up as much blood as he could. "Toi, diable.[ʸᵒᵘ ᵈᵉᵐᵒⁿ]" He hissed, teeth stained. 
The Lord smiled sickly, his figure lurking closer. 

His eyes didn't leave, glued tight as he tried not to blink. "You humans are always so fun," He chuckled, nail beds bleeding as they crawled outwards. Vincent held his breath, eyes drying out. When he finally allowed his eyelids to close, the Lord was there, right against his face. 

Hot liquid tapped against his neck as a dizzying spiral flowed before his irises. "Weak," He tried to push the Lord off, unsuccessfully with his act. "I still remember what it was like, being this weak." The spiral claws dug into Vincent's jaw, pulling him close. "The smell of your fear," He shuddered, deep red tongue pulling itself out to run along the stains of blood. "You know what is to come of your sister?" Vincent whined, his own nails desperately scratching at the hand holding him in place. He kicked his legs out, gasping loudly when his skin was ripped, allowing more blood to pour out.

"Shh," The Lord taunted. "They might hear you. And then not only will it be one sister dead." Vincent sewed his mouth shut, the noise only allowed to escape through his throat. "Good," He leaned in, cold lips pressing against Vincent's ear. "You do listen." He gritted his teeth, glaring at the dark hair curling in front of his eyes. "Fermez-la,[ˢʰᵘᵗ ᵘᵖ]" He gasped, his head slamming into the wall. "What did I say about that filth?”

Vincents legs tried to push him up, away from the wall. “Merde,” He muttered, voice choked out. “What did I say?” He growled, picking Vincent up by his jaw, like he weighed nothing. 

He gasped, the ripping of his body as he tried to tear the grip from his face. 
His body was thrown across the room, slamming into his bed. The impact of the wall against his spine caused Vincent's breath to lodge itself in his lungs. When his body landed on the soft mattress of his bed, he coughed, clawing at his chest. 

Vincent's vision was blurry while he tried to get air in his lungs. The looming figure approached, watching with amusement as the human struggled. Every bone in his body cried out, wanting nothing but to relax. And without any more time to dwell on the subject, the mattress sank. "Look at you," The Lord purred. "You like to fight, don't you? I like that." 
Vincent just laid there, breathing in and out as deeply as he could. 

The pale glisten of the moonlight showed everything. All the blood dripping from the soft, broken and bruised skin. "If you are to kill me," Vincent started, heaving and wheezing. "Just leave them out," He begged. 

The birds chirped loudly outside Vincent’s window, his back burned with pain as he huffed. He rolled off his bed, falling to the floor. He glanced down towards his chest, lifting the cotton covering his torso. 

Vincent’s eyes watered as he stared at the clear skin. Confused at the non-bruised skin, he ran to his mirror, turning his head in the reflection. Vincent was clean; he didn’t have any scratches or bruises. 
There was no way he was dreaming; nothing about last night could have been a dream. 

He scampered out of his room, quickly dressing himself. There was no time to waste; if last night had been a dream, that still had to mean something. If the events had all been manifested by his mind, that was an omen. He needed to save his sister. "Vincent?" His mother called out, confused when her son ignored her.
He shoved past the doors of the manor, whistling for a carriage.

Vincent was there before anyone could get a word in. He bit his nails sitting down on the soft chairs of the carriage. 

“Romania!” Vincent called out to the coachman. 

Chapter Text

The carriage rocked, pushing Vincent to the other side. He huffed, rubbing his eyes.

He glanced out the windows, the dark sky crying. Vincent had noticed the weather tended to copy his feelings.

The dark atmosphere made his omens wonder. To different places, different outcomes. If he isn’t able to help his sister, save her. If that beast finds him out, the one she’s calling her husband. It wouldn’t be just her who lies in a wooden bed forever. 

There had to be some way to take down a beast; nothing lived forever. 

“Monsieur,” Someone called out, catching Vincent’s attention. He would fix his plan later, for now, he needed somewhere to stay. 
The small town his sister had mentioned was just that, small and compacted. Many people lived here as they flocked around Vincent, speaking in a language he didn't quite understand. 

One woman, dressed in a tight-fitting gown, joined the group of children and elderly. Her red-tinted lips curved upwards as her fingers danced along Vincent's clothed chest. She spoke loudly to the rest of the town, managing to get them to scamper away. "Long way from home?" She smirked, causing the boy to go wide-eyed. "Yes," He whispered as she gripped his wrist, pulling him towards a lit-up house. "Here for pleasure?" 

The doors creaked open, revealing several young women. Their bodies on display as they danced and teased men, sitting on their laps while their fingers tangled around their hair. "This is a," Vincent started, mouth falling ajar. "Yes."

The sights caused Vincent to feel lightheaded; he felt like he was going to faint. The strong smell of smoke filled his nose as he coughed slightly.

”Let’s get you to a room,” She whispered, coaxing Vincent past the drunk and wild men. 
The room was small, a creaky bed pressed against a wall. "Tell me," Vincent started, pausing the woman in her steps. 

"Out there. I need someone out there." She crunched her face, huffing slightly. "If you wanted another woman, you should have said so." She grumbled. 
Vincent shook his hand defensively. "No," He started. "I'm looking for my sister and her... Husband." Her interest was quickened as she circled Vincent like he was a rabbit. "Oh?" She smirked, chuckling slightly. "And who might they be?" The stillness in the air pushed down, causing the room to shrink. "His name?"

"His name is, um, O-Octavian... Petri." The woman's eyes lit up as her smirk grew. "Isn't this interesting," She hummed, fanning herself slightly with her hand. "If you must know, boy, the Lord." She pointed to the castle sitting above the snowy mountain through the cracked window. "Only accepts help from women. You won't get in there dressed like that," She smirked.  

Vincent checked himself out in the mirror, running his hands down the dress. “Are you sure this will work?” The woman hummed. 
He pulled the dress up, the heavy lock of hair strapped to his head; his face was paler than usual, the thick powder parted into his skin. His lips were plumped up with a dark tint of red.

”Are you sure I looked enough like a woman?” A soft groan echoed behind him. “A flat-chested one, maybe. But you have the structure to pass as one.” 

Vincent pushed his chest. “Merde,” He sighed. “Why do I look like - no offence - a whore?” The woman chuckled loudly, holding her stomach. “You must have been raised in a tower. What do you expect a man all the way up a mountain does with women?”

He scoffed, finally facing the cackling woman. “He’s married. He shouldn’t be doing such things when he has a wife.” She waved her hand dismissively. “Such a naïve thing you are.”

”You best be going, he doesn’t like visitors during the day.”

The wind blew widely outside as Vincent stared at aware at the towering castle. "Are you sure this will work?" The woman hummed. "Nope. But it's too late to turn back now. If you're really set on saving your sister, this is the best way."
Before he could say another word, she slammed the door behind him. 

Vincent's breath came out in short huffs, the freezing cold turning it into clouds of mist.
He stood by the large, unsure how to proceed. “Merde,” He groaned.

”How did you get out?” Vincent jumped, his attention turned to the elderly woman stomping towards him. “I beg your pardon?” She yanked him by his forearm, ripping him from the main gate.

She pulled him around to the side, where a small open wooden door laid. Muttering in a language he didn’t understand.

”I’m not sure I understand,” She didn’t listen, continuing to drag Vincent through the front yard.

All the trees were rotting, a cover of snow over them. The elder woman pulled him into the large building.

She finally let go, allowing Vincent to rub his arm. “You should have been told not to leave the main gates without company.” She scolded, pointing her bony finger.
”I don’t know what you’re talking about. I think you have me mistaken.” The woman didn’t listen, instead shoving a tray of cups and a teapot into Vincent’s hands. “Take to the main bedroom, the master is waiting.”

Before he could ask where he was to go, the old woman ran away - most likely to harass someone else.

“Main bedroom,” Vincent mumbled, staring down at the tray in his hands. “Alright.”

He looked around the small cottage-like room. It seemed like a kitchen; he assumed it was what the maids used to prepare for all the meals. It had plenty of windows, allowing the moonlight to shine through.

Deciding it was a good thing he was confused as one of the workers, he smiled. He could now find out where his sister was. He could walk the hallways without being stopped.

The halls were dark, small flickers of light being the only thing that showed Vincent the way. The large windows were covered by dark red curtains.

The tray rattled as he walked, the heeled boots making him stumble now and then. 
“Hey!” Someone called, causing Vincent to flinch, another woman appearing out of the dark. “Y-yes?” He answered. “Where are you taking that?” She questioned, moving into the light of the fire. “Main bedroom,”

The woman huffed. “Give it to me.” Vincent couldn’t let his opportunity slip away. He needed to get his bearings before he decided how to get his sister out.

”I was told I was wanted. If you could just point me in the right direction.” She crunched her face. “Very well,” She chuckled, like she had her own inside joke. “Keep heading down that hall, it’s the last door,”

Vincent nodded, scampering to avoid the glare stuck on his back.

”Alright,” He hummed, standing at the door he was told to go to. He hoped he could trust what she’d said. 
Vincent knocked softly. He waited for an answer. “Enter,” Someone called. It sounded like a woman, but due to the door. He couldn’t be positive.

The door creaked open. The room was as dark as the rest of the building Vincent had seen.

Chapter Text

The room was lit by a large fire, burning so hot that Vincent could even feel it by the door.

”I have tea,” The woman turned her head, humming. “Being it here then.” Vincent smiled, quickly rushing over.
He dropped the tray, wrapping his fingers around her face. “What are you doing?” She gasped. “It’s me.”

She stared, squinting. “Vincent?” She mumbled.

”Vincent, what are you doing here?” Cècilia stood, bringing her brother into an embrace. “And why is it that you are dressed like a woman?”

He ignored the question, holding his sister close. “I’ve come to get you,” Her smile dropped fast, replaced by a scowl. “Oh dear,” She huffed. “I told you to drop that. I’m happy, why must you make this all about you?”

Vincent's smile dropped too. “All about me?” He repeated, not understanding what his sister was saying. “Nothing is about me, ever. I have been cast away in the shadows since I was born. Because, unlike you, I can’t make mother any money.” He huffed. “I’m trying to save you. That man isn’t what he says he is. He’s a monster, a demon. He’s going to kill you. Why can’t you understand that?” Cècilia placed her hand over her lips, shocked at her brother's sudden outburst. 
“Nothing has been about me, and I’ve been fine with that. I’ve been fine with staying in the shadows. But the second I try to help you, you stab me in the fucking back.”

”You know what, forget it,” Before Cècilia could get over the shock, her brother was already out the door.

Vincent waited for her to come after him, that she would burst through the door and call out to him. But nothing. Vincent's lip quivered as he felt his body crumble from the weight. Tears streamed down his face as he rushed down the halls.

He crouched down by the curtains, trying to stop his weeping. “Merde,” He sighed, regretting exploding on his younger sister and leaving her.

Vincent had to get back to her, try and try to convince her to come back.

Standing from his position on the floor. He wiped his cheeks, the makeup smeared. 
He started to head back to the main bedroom, his shoulders slouched. “My, you must be new.” Vincent flinched, head snapping towards the Lord emerging from the darkness.

Vincent bowed his head, keeping his eyes to the rug running along the halls.
”Yes, my Lord. I’ve just arrived.” The taller of the two chuckled, approaching. “You have been crying, my dear?” Vincent nodded slowly, avoiding the gaze. “Who made you cry?”

”Nobody, my Lord,” Vincent could feel his legs wobbling under him. “Why don’t we get you cleaned. I mustn’t have my staff going around with smeared faces.”
He touched the skin of his face, staring at the powder on his fingers. “Yes, my Lord.”

Vincent followed loosely behind the Lord, hands bundled in his dress.

The room they entered was much smaller than the main bedroom. A medium-sized bed sat in the middle, with a smaller fireplace. Without any fire, the room was shrouded in darkness. 
“Tell me,” The Lord started. “What is your work?” Vincent stopped. “I’m a… Maid. I do the cleaning.”

Silence settled itself between the two, suffering the younger. The Lord stepped closer. “A scullery maid.” Vincent hummed, glancing away.
He felt a pair of hands on his shoulders, pulling him closer. “And what’s a scullery maid doing crying?”

He shifted, the cold burning through his dress. “I told you,” He started. “It was no one.” Realising the harshness of his tone, Vincent smiled. “My Lord.”
The talker man chuckled, tugging Vincent closer.

The atmosphere thickened as he felt his bones scrape against each other. The Lord's face melted into itself.

Vincent tried to snap out of the drug-like state. There was a sudden hot feeling in his lips, burning through his face. 
The Lord pulled Vincent closer, slipping the growing tongue past his clenched teeth. 

He struggled slightly, trying to keep his eyes open as he gagged on the strange object squirming down his throat.

His lower body was supported by a pair of arms wrapped around him. 
His lips froze as the Lord pulled away, dropping to his knees.

Vincent held his throat, coughing wildly. “Why don’t we get you some water?” He shook his head, slapping away the Lord's hand. “What’s the matter with you?” He hissed, eyes red and watery. “Why would you do that?”

The Lord smirked, the sudden outburst amusing to him. “The balls on you to talk to me like that.” Vincent glared at him from his place on the ground.

He stood slowly, bowing his head. “My apologies, my Lord.” He grumbled.

”Take a seat.” His sly smile dropped, pointing to the creaky-looking bed.

Deciding it was best not to test his luck, and not have a repeat, he sat on the bed. 
“What is it you’re hoping to find here, my dear?” The Lord loomed over Vincent too close for comfort. “I’m here to help my sister.” He hoped his answer was vague enough.

The Lord hummed, finger tugging Vincent’s face up. “What a noble thing you are.” His chin ached as the Lord's nails curled out. He tried to push the hand away, gritting his teeth. “Stop,” He hissed. “That hurts.”

Blood dripped down his neck. “I know,” The Lord hummed.

Vincent pushed against the Lord's chest, baring his teeth in pain. “Please,” He started. “It hurts.” Vincent gasped in relief once his chin was finally let go.

”Tell me.” He held his cuts. “What are you willing to do for your sister?” Vincent sighed. “Anything.”

A soft chuckle echoed past Vincent. “Anything?” The Lord repeated. “You must be one devoted sibling. To say that, and uphold it. That’s very interesting.”

”I could help you with your goal.” He offered. Vincent perked up. “You would?” He questioned. “Of course. But nothing in this world is for free.” Vincent weighed his options; the Lord didn’t know who he was and in return, he didn’t know who his sister was. If he gave up on his advantage, it could end badly. The only way he could get help was to tell the Lord who his sister was. And there was always a chance the Lord could go back on his word.

”How much? What do you want?” The Lord smirked. “It’s not money I want. Nor your earthly possession.” Vincent squinted his eyes. “Then what is it you want?”

Vincent shifted on the bed, crawling back as the Lord approached. He positioned himself between Vincent’s legs, knees pressing down on the shirt of the dress. “W-what are you doing. What do you want?” He tried to move back, but his dress wouldn’t allow it. The Lord's face neared, causing Vincent to fall into the bed.

”My wife is rather slack, so, I must find someone else to entertain me. So please, do me the honour and I can save your sister.”

Vincent gulped. “If I let you. You promise to help me save my sister?” The Lord nodded.
He had to believe what the Lord promised was true, that he would keep his word.

”Do what you must.” The first thing he felt after closing his eyes were a pair of burning, cold lips pressed against his neck. Sucking and licking on his exposed skin. 
He shivered gently, holding his breath as he held onto the sheets.

”H-hey,” Vincent called when he felt fingers climbing up his skirt. 
He watched as the Lord kissed his neck like he was starving, dragging his nails up Vincent’s thigh, finally resting in his cock.

The Lord stopped, dark eyes locking with Vincent’s. “Now, why wouldn’t you mention this?” He chuckled, like he knew all along. He didn’t even seem surprised. 
“You expect me to help you, but you lie?” Vincent shook his head, propping himself up with his elbows. “N-no I-“ A harsh slap reverberated off the walls as Vincent held his cheek. “Lies must be punished.”

”Punished?” The Lord whistled, so loud Vincent had to slam his hands over his ears. After he was done, two large men covered in armour barged in. “Take him away!” The Lord ordered.

The two large men stormed in before Vincent even had time to react. 
He was grabbed by his arms, tugging from the bed as he was dragged out of the room. “You’re the liar!” 
He struggled against them, but the more he did, the tighter their grip became.

Chapter Text

Vincent held himself tightly, resting his head on his propped-up knees. 
He shivered violently, everything but the dress he was wearing taken from him. He didn’t even have shoes, or the wig to keep him warm.

The rest of the prisoners Vincent had seen looked grim - the nicest way he could put it. 
Most of them had faced their mothers couldn’t even recognise; faces pumpled into oblivion.

He’d seen one or two that looked completely insane. They giggled to themselves, apparently finding something funny about this situation.

Vincent had been thrown in one of the cells at the very end, in a dark, mouldy corner. 

He scratched his neck, where the Lord's mouth had touched. He felt filthy; the only reason he had allowed that monster to do such things was because of what he had been promised. 
There was something seriously wrong with that man, apart from the obvious. Vincent was sure the Lord had known he himself was a man, yet, he continued. And now, because of that demon, he was sitting in a disgusting dungeon.

Vincent wasn’t completely sure how long he’d been down here. During his stay, he’d somehow managed to nod off, falling asleep despite the sounds of the other prisoners.

”God,” He grumbled, teeth chattering lightly. The dress felt much thinner than he originally thought, and now that he was locked up he suddenly felt much colder. 
It didn’t help that all the other men were staring at him like he was an actual woman, like some piece of meat.

”Stop staring,” He hissed at the other man pressed against the shared ‘wall’. “Why don’t you show us something, pretty lady?” Vincent rolled his eyes. “I’m not a fucking woman, fuck off.” The man reached his hand through the bars. “I just wanna see,” He squished himself further away. “I told you to fuck off.”

The entrance door of the dungeon slammed open as the Lord strolled in. All the prisoners' gaze snapped to him, sealing their lips shut. “Vincent,” The Lord stopped at last cell. “Enjoy your nest?” The smug smirk fixed itself on his face.

“How do you know my name?” He asked. “Because I know you. Vincent. I know you and the dear sister you’re trying to save. So desperately. I might add.”

Vincent's heart burned through his body, thumping against his rib cage. He could feel it on his thighs pressing on his chest.

”How long have you known?” He whispered, his voice refusing to go any higher. “Nothing happens in this castle without me knowing.” Vincent felt sweat drip from his body. “Nothing in this town happens without me knowing. Isn’t that right, Madam Adriana?” The woman who met Vincent stepped out from behind the Lord's guards.

She waved friendly at Vincent's shocked expression. “Why would?” He muttered, tears welling. She pulled out a pouch. “Simple as that.” She started. “No hard feelings.” She skipped off, leaving Vincent to wallow in his poor choices. 
Even though he didn’t know the woman personally, he still felt betrayed. He supposed her motives were just like his mother's. Just in it for the money.

”You’re a monster,” Vincent growled, feeling a slight confidence. He stood, slamming his hands against the bars. “You let me out, now.”

The Lord sneered, nearing the bars til the point Vincent could feel the cold breath fanning over his skin. “You’re now ordering me around? Such an interesting thing you are.” He grinned, an amused look constantly stuck on his face. 
“I might just have to. But only if you promise.” Vincent's grip on the rusty bars tightened, his knuckles turning white. “Promise what?” He growled out through his grinding teeth.

"That you behave," He sighed, pushing away. "What makes you think I want anything to do with you?" He mumbled, returning to his place on the dirty ground. "What you did." Vincent started. "Was against God."

The Lord chuckled widely. "Against God?" He leaned back, the jagged teeth glistening in the little light. "I didn't believe you were such a devoted worshiper."

"I'm not!" Vincent snarled. "But you knew, you knew I was a man and you continued. That is wrong, it's against God, nature." 

He watched the Lord shrug, his smile suddenly dropping. "Then starve."

Vincent watched as he stomped away, muttering a - "Fucker,"

Chapter Text

He may have been stuck in a house his whole life, but Vincent wasn't an idiot.
He had to get out. His sister would be fine; the Lord had to keep her alive. If he didn't, he wouldn't have anything over Vincent. 

"Hey," He started. "You see that small metal stick there?" The prisoner glanced over to where Vincent was pointing. "If you hand it over, I'll show you something."

The man piped up, quickly scampering towards the object to hand it over to Vincent. He ignored the yammering of the prisoner as he quickly made work of the lock, jamming it around as he tried to free himself.

Once he unlocked the door, all the prisoners started to scream at him, begging to be released from their cages.

The doors to the dungeon happened to be left ajar. Under normal circumstances, Vincent would have considered this suspicious. But not when his heart is beating from his chest, not when there is a monster haunting him.

Vincent quickly made work of the stairs, his bare feet slapping against the cold stone.
The noise of the prisoners drowned out the further he got.

It happened to be night again. The curtains draped by the windows were pushed aside allowing the current moonlight in. The halls had no one around, no maids or anything.
Vincent was going to get out and rethink his plan. And of course, now, he knew not to trust anyone in this god-forsaken town. Because apparently, they were all in the back pocket of the Lord of this castle. 

"Hello?" He called out. Once there was no answers, Vincent slipped his way through the castle halls. 

He hadn't been to this part of the castle, so he wasn't quite sure where he was going, but he had a point. To get out, he needed to return to where that old lady had taken him.
That seemed like the best option for him. From what he'd seen, the door they'd entered through only had one lock on the inside of the door. 

Vincent figured the trickiest part was how to get down from the mountain without being spotted.

His dress flowed as he scampered down the halls. Vincent huffed, stopping to catch his breath. "Merde," He groaned, his stomach growling at him.
It felt like he'd been running for hours, yet it seemed like he hadn't gone anywhere, 

It was like the place was a labyrinth.

"You really are a persistent thing," Vincent sighed. "Must you always be behind every corner? Is it your job to foil my well-thought-out plans?" 

The Lord hummed. "Why would I let my new pet run away?" Vincent glared, standing straight. "I'm not a fucking dog." He hissed. "And I'm fucking leaving,"

"That so?" He felt his stomach drop, burning through the rest of his body. "What are you doing?" He mumbled, steadying himself with the wall. "Go on. Aren't you going to escape?"
Vincent stumbled off the wall, staggering away from the smirking Lord. 

He got a couple of steps before his body completely collapse, his bones trembling underneath the weight of itself.  

Unlike last night, Vincent woke with a soft surface supporting his body. The room he was in was also remarkably better scented. 

He groaned softly, like he was waking from a night terror. "Merde," He sighed, rubbing his weary eyes. "You just don't listen, do you?" Vincent jumped, completely awake now as he sprang to sit.
The Lord placed a book down, his chair facing Vincent, while the fire burning behind him lit up the room.

Vincent realised he was lying in a bed, well, half lying. "You're a rather skittish thing, aren't you?" Vincent glared at the Lord, shifting his position. 
The sheets that still somehow clung to his body slid down, allowing the hot breeze from the fire to wash over his bear skin.
Noticing the absence of clothing on his chest, Vincent could now feel the soft sheets pressing down on his lower with nothing in between.

"W-what did you do?" Vincent yelped, ripping the sheets to now cover his entire being. He hid under the fabric, like a child scared of the boogie man.

The Lord stood from his chair, amused at the bundle of trembling sheets. "Calm down, you don't have anything I haven't seen before. I didn't do anything but get you out that disgusting dress."

Vincent held his hand over his mouth, trying to keep the tears in. He held his naked body, keeping the sheets covering him. "You're evil," Vincent mumbled, all the thoughts what the Lord did to him when he was unconscious filled him with a type of terror he'd never felt before.

A shadow loomed over Vincent, pulling the covers back slightly. He didn't bother to stop the sheets, curling into himself. His tears dripped onto the mattress. "Why her?" He whispered. "Why do you need my sister? You could have chosen anyone else, so why her?" 
The Lord hummed. "I have chosen someone else."
Vincent sat up. "Who, who have you chosen? And why haven't you let her go?" The Lord tapped Vincent's wet cheek. "Because then the one I've chosen will run away, like a little rabbit."

"I'll stay. If you let her go and never, ever, go near her again." The Lord grinned. "You must take up her duties then." Vincent neglected the statement, so close he was blinded by his success. "I'll do it, whatever." He blurted out. "You just leave my family out of it."

Without another word, the Lord left the room. Vincent sat stunned in the bed, staring at the door. "Alright," He mumbled.
He wasn't sure what he'd said that made the Lord feverishly rush out the room, but he wasn't going to complain, It gave him a peace of mind, at least for now. 

A soft scent of lavender lingered throughout the room, Vincent had never seen this place before, which wasn't saying much. But it seemed nicer than the dungeon.
He wasn't sure what his plan was now, Although what he did know, was he wasn't going to keep his side of the deal.
The moment his sister was safe, Vincent would leave. If the Lord couldn't keep his promises, neither could Vincent. 

Now that he was alone in the room, Vincent sat against the wall the bed was pushed against. His upper body revealed itself as he glanced around.

There was nothing in here that could cover him except for the sheets.

Vincent sighed, slinking off the bed as he wrapped the fabric around his waist. 

Chapter Text

The door creaked open as Vincent tipped out, grip tight on the fabric wrapped around him. 
The halls were cold, blowing last. He peeled away from the doorway, jerking back so hard he tripped over his own feet. 

Vincent huffed wildly, still sitting on the floor as he placed his hand over his thumping heart. After a moment, when he realised the guards standing by the door didn’t seem to come after him, Vincent stood, daring to get closer. He waited for them to react when he poked his head out, but they stood still. 
Deciding to test his luck further, he put his whole body out. They still didn’t move, standing just like statues. “Hello?” He asked, but neither answered. “I’m going to leave. You good with that?” They stayed silent. “Alright,” Vincent mumbled.

A harsh grip on Vincent's arms tugged him back into the room, shoving the door shut. "Fuckers," He grumbled, groaning after the hard floor made contact with his back.

He sighed, attempting to open the door. But this time, they decided to lock it, keeping him inside. "Hey!" He called, banging on the wood. "Let me out!" He tried the handle. "I can pay you more than that, Lord," Vincent hoped his bluff would at least make them rethink. "That so?"

A cold hand placed itself on Vincent's shoulder, stopping his pounding fists.

"My," He started. "You bring such joy to my life. Entertaining." Vincent shrugged the hand off his naked skin. His eyes flickered around. "How'd you even get in here?" He hissed. "I've been at the door," 

Vincent glanced at the door that was now sat closed behind him. "Why'd you even put up guards?" The hold returned to Vincent's shoulders. Before he could comprehend, his back was being slammed into the door. 
His head smashed back, causing him to suck in a shuddering breath. "You do like to command." Vincent grabbed the arms holding him in place. His fingers pressed weakly as his head pounded and screamed.

He didn't even notice when he was being led to the bed. The Lord pushed Vincent as he fell onto the mattress, clinging desperately to his aching skull. 
He groaned, squirming. "Merde," He wheezed, his vision blurry and splotchy. 

A biting slap stopped Vincent, his cheek already turning a tint of red. His ears rang as he tried to breathe heavily. "I've told you. Not once. But twice already. To cease that disgusting language," Vincent couldn't hold it in any longer. He sobbed uncontrollably, making the Lord sigh. 
He straddled Vincent, preventing him from going anywhere. "You humans," He sighed.

"What you're doing," Vincent whimpered out. "It's wrong, it's illegal." He kicked aimlessly, trying to get the man off. 
The Lord held Vincent's legs down, permitting him to weep into the mattress. 

"All I did was push you," He groaned, tired of the wailing. "Why are you crying?" Vincent couldn't respond or speak anymore, his brain unable to form any coherent words. So, he just squished his face further into the bed. "Stop it, I've given you time," Vincent blindly pushed him away when he got too close. "G-go away," He blabbled, voice cusioned by the bed he was shoving his face into. 

Vincent tried to slow his huffs, ignoring the insults of the man atop him. "Leave me alone," He said, untwisting his upper half to be completely flush with the mattress; facing the Lord with a wet and sticky face. 

He sniffed, wiping his nose. "You must have been a human once before, so why are you so hellbent on destroying something you once were?" Vincent's voice came out hoarse and scratchy.
The grip that was still evidently on his legs tightened. He hissed at the sudden pressure, but kept his eyes locked with the Lords. 

The Lord's scowl turned into a soft smile, opposite to how hard he was holding Vincent's leg.

When he pulled his fingers away, Vincent wheezed, blood sliding down his skin. "Your sister is being sent back to your foul country."

Vincent lifted himself by his elbows. "You're not lying, are you?" The Lord shook his head. "You could check every inch of this castle and not find her,"
He sniffed, his eyes stinging. "How can I trust your word?"

The Lord groaned exaggeratedly, falling to lie beside Vincent. He rubbed his eyes, legs intertwined. "So many commands," The Lord hummed. "You already lied to me before. Give me one reason why I should believe you now?" 
Vincent sat further up, scowling at the man beside him. "You threw me into a fucking dungeon." 
He sighed, flopping back to the bed. "Why me," He grumbled. 

The delicate crackling of the fire filled the motionless room. Vincent laid quietly beside the Lord, the two stuck in silence. He picked at the skin around his fingernail.

"What are you? How old are you?"

There was another moment when neither said anything else as the draft from the fire consumed them.
Vincent rolled his head, locking eyes with the Lord's side profile. He had noticed when they first met in the library, how odd the Lord appeared. Like he was out of an old painting.
Pale skin, nearly the same shade as the gentle moonlight, evoked a quiet fragility. Dark curls sharply outlined his face, adding a touch of raw intensity, while his deep lips remained pressed in a silent line. If it weren't for the clothing, Vincent would have been convinced the Lord was the same age as him, with his radiant, flawless skin. Untouched, not a single line of age to mar his face.

The dark eyes of the Lord locked with Vincent's, causing him to quickly avert, caught in his staring. If his mother had been here, he would have had the lecture of the century. His cheeks hummed a velvety pink hue while he awkwardly kept his eyes on the ceiling. 
"You remind me of a Neoclassicism painting," 

"I was going to kill your sister," Vincent gulped, his anxiety of the sudden subject change swirling throughout. "I know," He stuttered, clearing his throat. "When I gathered you weren't human, I kinda assumed she was as good as dead. But I still want to save her. She's my baby sister."

Vincent sighed pathetically. "God," He placed his hand over his eyes, trying to stop his tears. "I really thought she'd be dead by now." The Lord hummed. "Your mother must have raised you well," He bit down on his bottom lip, stopping it from trembling. "I'm the ruler of the night." Vincent shivered, all the warmth that was once, gone entirely from the room. "And you have now tied yourself to me."

"Tied myself? What do you mean?" The Lord moved swiftly, suddenly on top as his teeth cracked out, digging into Vincent's nude shoulder.

He gasped, body shuddering. He dug his nails into the Lord's back, scraping down. 
Vincent couldn't speak, his back arching from the pain. 

When the Lord eventually let go, Vincent flopped around, holding his bleeding shoulder. "What the fuck!" He lashed, gritting his teeth. 
He felt something thick pulsating throughout his veins, burning him from the inside out.
He felt like he was fed was the strongest drug in the world, and now, he was having the strongest withdrawal. His eyes roasted behind his eyelids as he thrashed around violently. 

Vincent stopped his movement, panting wildly. "Sainte," The Lord stood from the bed. Its sheets stained crimson. 
Vincent laid on his side, cupping his shoulder like it was a sick child. His legs, that were once hanging past the bedframe, curled up to rest by his chest. The scuffle had led to Vincent’s only piece of coverage to fall and crumple around him.

"What was that for?" He whimpered. When he didn't get an answer, Vincent sat gradually: red, watery and seething eyes looking around. "Lord?"

"Put these on," Clothes were thrown at Vincent's face. "And this," He looked over the clothes, before looking at the Lord's palm. "What's this?" He asked. "A ring," Vincent sighed. "I know what it is, but what's it for?" The Lord placed the ring into Vincent's hand. He rolled the object within his hold. It was a silver band with sapphires dotted around. "You agreed to take over the duties of your sister, so, put it on."

He reluctantly did so. He rolled the silver ring, placing it on his middle finger. “Not that one,” The Lord hissed, pointing to his left ring finger. "How do I know you're not going to attack me? Again." The Lord stepped forward as Vincent bucked back. "I do not need to." At the confused expression on his face, the Lord snorted, sitting beside him.
Vincent pushed away. "If I had asked you, you would have surely said no. But, I've marked you. You're mine." 

"Yours?" Vincent scoffed. "Like I said before, I'm not a fucking dog." He stood, unfolding the items of clothing. Thankfully, they weren't women's garments.
Vincent paused. "Aren't you going to leave?" The Lord shook his head. "Why should I?"

Vincent didn't bother to argue, slipping the sheet off. His lower half was briefly exposed before he shimmied the pants on. They were a comfortable fit, not too tight, unlike the attire his mother forced him to wear.
The shirt was a nice white button-up, also fitting snug against him.

The outfit was plain: white button-up, black pants, and, strangely enough, a pair of suspenders. Vincnet didn't place them upon his shoulder, allowing them to hang by his hips.

"Madam Charlotte will fetch you. And you will listen to her. Understand?" Vincent nodded, watching the Lord step towards the door. "Lord," He called out. "No more of that nonsense. You are my wife, you are to address me by my name." With that, the Lord left. The door slumped open as a hasty light shone through the room.

Vincent hand't noticed until currently how much he missed the sun dancing on his skin. He missed the early chirps of the birds and the smell of slightly melted snow.
He'd missed so much of the morning. It had felt like years since he last felt the rays that covered the land.
He breathed in, feeling like the air had been cleansed. Vincent stood with his eyes closed, basking in the heat.

"Master Vincent," The disturbance of the peace was caused by the same old woman who brang him here. 

Truth be told, he didn't look all that different from when he last talked with her. She didn't seem to recognise him, or at least, she didn't act like she did. Maybe she also wasn't human. Vincent considered.
She surely didn't move like one.

Vincent nodded, watching the shorter woman scamper around the room.
"Master Petri has requested you to relocate," She squawked. "I'm starving. Do you think I could get something to eat?" Vincent was hoping she'd take him back to that cottage-like chamber. But even if she didn't, he'd still get something out of it. He hadn't eaten in days, and it was starting to take effect on him. "Very well, Master Vincent." She hustled out of the doorway. Before she popped back, signalling for him to follow.

Vincent felt like he was getting an idea of the place. Everything looked the same, but that was the trick.
When he thought he was walking in the same spot, he was actually going 'round in circles.

He'd never seen the castle with its curtains opened, during the days. 

Chapter Text

Vincent sat quietly on a stool, leg tapping feverishly up and down. He kept glancing towards the door, the older woman’s back facing him.

He stared at the lock, unsure if it was open or not. But he would take his chance.

The wind howled as Vincent ran down the mountain, the snow slowing his every step. His body froze with another gust of wind. 

Vincent huffed, heading towards the looming woods. The ring on his left hand burned through his skin, but he didn’t notice much. He was far too focused on getting out of this god-forsaken town.
Blood pumping through his ears, his body already numb. 

The trees creaked throughout as Vincent’s body grew heavy. His lungs burned while he continued to breathe the freezing air in.

His legs trembled beneath him as a root sticking from the soil caught his foot. 
Vincent tumbled, his back slamming into the hard ground.

He coughed, rolling to his side as he tried to get up. 
“Merde,” He groaned, pausing when he heard rustling. His eyes locked with the bushes. Round yellow irises peered as a soft growl echoed out. 

Vincent scrambled up, panting fearfully. A black wolf emerged, separated from its pack. 
It looked odd, like it had been dead for years; its body was decaying on itself as its teeth splintered outwards. They were cracked and rotting.
Its fur was falling off, and some patches showed where skin used to be. 

”Good doggy,” He hummed, keeping his gaze on the predator. The wolf circled him, teeth bared as it continued to growl.

He gulped lowly, his fingers digging into the dirt. Vincent knew if he stayed any longer, he’d be caught sooner or later.

Vincent stood, causing the wolf to lung forward. He muttered under his breath, frustrated at the dog stopping him. 
“Come on, man. Please,” He begged, hoping the wolf would wander away.

He heard distant voices, knowing his time was now limited.
The silver on his finger sizzled, causing Vincent to hiss and inspect his finger.

When he turned his gaze back to the bush, the wolf was nowhere; it had left. “What the,” He muttered, searching the spot for any indication he wasn’t dreaming.

In the absence of the wolf, Vincent scampered away from the growing voices. 

The trees all clustered together, not allowing much snow in. Vincent was glad of this fact; his footprints barely visible.

”Oh, merde,” Vincent hissed, the metal biting into his skin. He tried to tug the ring off, not paying attention to the ground. 
He stumbled on his feet, using a tree nearby to steady himself.

His mind began to fuzz the further he travelled from the castle. “Get off,” He growled, using his teeth to pull at the metal. Vincent’s skull pounded as his legs bucked.

The burning stuck in his veins had started to subside when Vincent opened his eyes. 
He was back in that room, the fire crackling in the distance. 

Vincent’s vision cleared as his eyes scanned the room, gaze landing on a figure sitting but the fireplace. The book's pages glistened with the light. The curtains drawn. “Ah,” The Lord sighed, placing his book down. “You’re awake.” Vincent shuffled away, his back hitting the wall. “I believe you’re quite predictable.” He frowned. “Perhaps it’s because I hate you,” Vincent spat, causing the Lord to chuckle.

”Such strong words,” He hummed, sitting on the edge of the bed. The mattress inclining inwards, making Vincent fall slightly forward. 
“Well, I mean it. You take my sister, threaten me and then force me into this…” Vincent paused, thinking of the words to describe his predicament. “This… Marriage? This sinful thing,”

Vincent pushed himself off the bed, walking to the door. “We had ourselves a deal.” He paused, hand frozen over the handle. “You broke your deal first. Why should I keep mine?”

The Lord smirked when Vincent tried the handle. “Do you believe I would leave it unlocked?” He shrugged, keeping his distance from the older male. “Do you think I wouldn’t try?”