Highlander fic: The Blood is the Life
Title: The Blood is the Life
Fandom: Highlander
Word count: 1692
Disclaimer: I don't own anything in the Highlander franchise
Warnings: Violence, violent death, nonchalant mention of cannibalism, mention of numerous child-murders, vampires, probably AU
Prompt: Methos, he's not the oldest immortal just because he's the best (though he is) - he's a vampire
In the beginning there is a man, or something that looks like a man. It might be more of a child, because this is the beginning after all. It remembers nothing before dark and dirt and digging to get out.
Let's call it a monster. Yes, that seems accurate.
So, in the beginning there is a monster, struggling up out of earth's embrace with unthinking desperation. It is hungrythirstyinpain, there are cramps in its stomach and its throat burns with the need for... something.
There are people nearby, huddled around a fire. The monster lingers in the darkness for just a moment, watching, and then it strikes. It lunges out into the light, and attaches itself to the closest neck. All around, there are cries of panic and fear. Rocks strike the monster's back, and it hurts, but not enough to make it stop.
The first victim drops lifeless onto the fire, smothering it. Some of the people have fled, now, but one is running toward the monster instead, screaming incoherent rage. The monster reaches out with clawed hand, and the human's momentum plunges that unyielding hand right into his chest, past his ribcage. The hand gropes inside, and then pulls out its prize:
a glistening heart.
So the monster learns that the blood inside a fresh heart is sweetest.
~
There is something new in the world.
They are children of the storm, perhaps, because there is lightning within them. Simply being in their presence causes an uncomfortable prickling sensation all over the monster's skin. He runs whenever he feels them near, and hunts his prey elsewhere instead.
It has been centuries, and he has survived what others do not, but he does not assume that there is no way to kill him.
Nothing is truly immortal. Everything can be ended in one way or another, although some things are harder to kill than others.
He will never, ever assume otherwise.
He hears the storm-children referred to by names that mean 'immortal', and he cannot help but laugh. That is something he cannot believe, and more fool those who do. More fool the so-called Immortals, if they believe it.
~
One night, the monster draws too much attention. The next morning, he is hunted down. He tries to fight them off, but there are so many, and the sun is glaring down from above. This is something he has noticed: his power wanes with the day and waxes with the night.
His head and limbs are torn away from his torso, and all the pieces of him are left trampled into the desert sand. For awhile, he knows nothing.
He awakens to the uncomfortable sensation of a storm-child's presence. There is a man smiling down at him, his blue eyes intense and pleased. The moment the monster meets those eyes, he knows that here is the source of the prickling over his skin.
"I didn't really think it would work," says the child of the storm. "But I'm glad that it did."
The monster realises that he has been saturated with blood. All of his pieces must have been gathered together, and somehow all of this blood has put him back together again.
There are so many bodies all around, their throats slashed and gaping and swarming with flies. Did the blue-eyed child of the storm do this, save him by doing this?
"I'm Kronos. Come with me, we can hunt together."
Maybe it appeals to the monster more than it should, this offer of companionship. In any case, he takes the other's offered hand and allows himself to be lead away.
~
Kronos is fascinated by Methos, it soon becomes obvious. That's fine, because Methos is interested by Kronos, too.
That's right, the monster has a name now. Kronos gave it to him.
~
It is Kronos, ever-curious as he is, who comes up with the idea.
"Methos!" he says, his expressive eyes brimming with fervour. "Have you ever eaten an Immortal?"
"No, I can't say I have. Why?"
"What do you suppose would happen if you did?"
That night, they find an Immortal - they aren't really immortal, of course, but Methos has accepted that the name is here to stay - and Kronos wrestles her to the ground and bashes her over the head with a rock. By the time she revives, she has been bound hand and foot, and Methos is leaning over her.
She screams when Methos' mouth opens wide and his teeth extend into predatory horrors, but she is only heard by beasts and monsters, out here in the desert.
There is lightning in her blood, and drinking it feels like burning from the inside, but at the end of it he yet lives, and more powerful than ever.
Immortals can sense him from that moment on, too, or else they sense her lightning, her Quickening, inside him. They think him one of them, and neither he nor Kronos bother to correct them.
He never does learn what her name was, but that's hardly important, is it?
He existed for centuries without a name, after all.
~
Caspian, Kronos' new protégé, is an observant one. He watches everything around him, but especially Methos and Kronos, and he notices that there is something subtly off about Methos. Something powerful and alluring.
He sees Methos feasting, one night, and he draws his own conclusions.
He starts devouring human meat and blood after that, and does not stop when it fails to grant him the same quality he has admired in Methos.
For his part, Methos starts to think that he might also take in a young Immortal, if only to keep things even between he and Kronos.
~
Silas isn't the sharpest, but he loves what he does with an endearing enthusiasm, and he's loyal.
Methos has enough of sharp with Kronos and Caspian, anyway, and he has been wanting some variety in his life.
~
Methos never feeds from Cassandra, although he often thinks about it. Probably he would have in the end, had he not decided that it might be more interesting to let her go.
She disappears into the desert, and nothing more interesting than Kronos' anger comes of it.
He thinks that it must be time to start something new, but he knows that Kronos will not agree. Well, he shall have to do it on his own, then. It does not matter if Kronos tries to stop him, because he is certain that he can disappear just as thoroughly as Cassandra.
~
The woman falls bloody and exhausted at Methos' feet. He can tell just from a glance that she has forced herself beyond all endurance. Now, her heartbeat is weak and the light in her eyes has almost gone out.
Even though he does not know this woman, and he has seen and caused uncountable deaths, something within him rebels against the possibility of her death. It might be something in her eyes, what little life remains, or it might be the determination that brought her here.
Quite possibly, there is no real reason. Sometimes, feelings simply are.
Whatever the reason, he decides to try something he never has before. Maybe it will save her, and maybe it won't. Probably it won't. It is, however, the only thing he can think to do.
He cradles her close as she drinks from the cut he has made on his neck. He feels her returning strength in her grip on his shoulders.
Perhaps this will be the change he has been hoping for, ever since he left his brothers.
They part, and she looks at him with adoration. "Thank you," she whispers. "Whatever you've done, whatever you are, thank you." She clasps her hands and lowers her gaze demurely. "What do you want from me? Anything I can give, it is yours."
"What do you want?" he says.
She looks at him with guarded surprise, and then she laughs. It is fierce, unhappy laughter. "I? I want revenge. Now I shall have it, because of you. Is that what you want? Is that why you saved me?"
"What do you think I am, my dear?"
"I don't know. A devil, probably. I don't care."
"You're the same thing as me, now. Do what you want."
All he wants is to see what she will do, this new creature that he created with no idea of what he was doing. If there is one thing he has learnt about himself, over millennia of existence, it is that he likes to see what change will bring.
~
She becomes a legend, or takes up the mantle of one. Because her little sons were murdered, she murders the little sons of the ones responsible, right down to the seventh generation.
It only takes two generations for her purpose to be forgotten by all but two beings. Her victims call her Lilith, after a demon in an old story.
She never gives another name, so Lilith she remains.
~
Methos sits in Joe's Bar, sipping a beer. His company for the evening is Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod, and Joe Dawson. To them, he is a legend come to life, and just a guy at the same time. He is the oldest Immortal.
Well, it is more or less true.
"I'm telling you, I saw it!" Duncan insists.
Joe is shaking his head. "Really, Mac? A vampire?"
"It's true!"
Methos could rule over the vampires, if he wanted. He is, after all, their progenitor. Their queen and mother Lilith would hand over her power in an instant, if only he asked.
He would much rather stay hidden and pretend to be a child of the storm. The vampires are just fine believing that Lilith was the first. Oh, she has never said she is, but vampires are just as inclined to assumptions as humans are. It's not as though he ever made another besides Lilith, anyway, even when he was tempted.
Looking at Mac's stubborn expression, he thinks that he's most likely about to become involved with his wayward "children", whether he likes it or not.
That's friendship with Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod for you.
Fandom: Highlander
Word count: 1692
Disclaimer: I don't own anything in the Highlander franchise
Warnings: Violence, violent death, nonchalant mention of cannibalism, mention of numerous child-murders, vampires, probably AU
Prompt: Methos, he's not the oldest immortal just because he's the best (though he is) - he's a vampire
In the beginning there is a man, or something that looks like a man. It might be more of a child, because this is the beginning after all. It remembers nothing before dark and dirt and digging to get out.
Let's call it a monster. Yes, that seems accurate.
So, in the beginning there is a monster, struggling up out of earth's embrace with unthinking desperation. It is hungrythirstyinpain, there are cramps in its stomach and its throat burns with the need for... something.
There are people nearby, huddled around a fire. The monster lingers in the darkness for just a moment, watching, and then it strikes. It lunges out into the light, and attaches itself to the closest neck. All around, there are cries of panic and fear. Rocks strike the monster's back, and it hurts, but not enough to make it stop.
The first victim drops lifeless onto the fire, smothering it. Some of the people have fled, now, but one is running toward the monster instead, screaming incoherent rage. The monster reaches out with clawed hand, and the human's momentum plunges that unyielding hand right into his chest, past his ribcage. The hand gropes inside, and then pulls out its prize:
a glistening heart.
So the monster learns that the blood inside a fresh heart is sweetest.
~
There is something new in the world.
They are children of the storm, perhaps, because there is lightning within them. Simply being in their presence causes an uncomfortable prickling sensation all over the monster's skin. He runs whenever he feels them near, and hunts his prey elsewhere instead.
It has been centuries, and he has survived what others do not, but he does not assume that there is no way to kill him.
Nothing is truly immortal. Everything can be ended in one way or another, although some things are harder to kill than others.
He will never, ever assume otherwise.
He hears the storm-children referred to by names that mean 'immortal', and he cannot help but laugh. That is something he cannot believe, and more fool those who do. More fool the so-called Immortals, if they believe it.
~
One night, the monster draws too much attention. The next morning, he is hunted down. He tries to fight them off, but there are so many, and the sun is glaring down from above. This is something he has noticed: his power wanes with the day and waxes with the night.
His head and limbs are torn away from his torso, and all the pieces of him are left trampled into the desert sand. For awhile, he knows nothing.
He awakens to the uncomfortable sensation of a storm-child's presence. There is a man smiling down at him, his blue eyes intense and pleased. The moment the monster meets those eyes, he knows that here is the source of the prickling over his skin.
"I didn't really think it would work," says the child of the storm. "But I'm glad that it did."
The monster realises that he has been saturated with blood. All of his pieces must have been gathered together, and somehow all of this blood has put him back together again.
There are so many bodies all around, their throats slashed and gaping and swarming with flies. Did the blue-eyed child of the storm do this, save him by doing this?
"I'm Kronos. Come with me, we can hunt together."
Maybe it appeals to the monster more than it should, this offer of companionship. In any case, he takes the other's offered hand and allows himself to be lead away.
~
Kronos is fascinated by Methos, it soon becomes obvious. That's fine, because Methos is interested by Kronos, too.
That's right, the monster has a name now. Kronos gave it to him.
~
It is Kronos, ever-curious as he is, who comes up with the idea.
"Methos!" he says, his expressive eyes brimming with fervour. "Have you ever eaten an Immortal?"
"No, I can't say I have. Why?"
"What do you suppose would happen if you did?"
That night, they find an Immortal - they aren't really immortal, of course, but Methos has accepted that the name is here to stay - and Kronos wrestles her to the ground and bashes her over the head with a rock. By the time she revives, she has been bound hand and foot, and Methos is leaning over her.
She screams when Methos' mouth opens wide and his teeth extend into predatory horrors, but she is only heard by beasts and monsters, out here in the desert.
There is lightning in her blood, and drinking it feels like burning from the inside, but at the end of it he yet lives, and more powerful than ever.
Immortals can sense him from that moment on, too, or else they sense her lightning, her Quickening, inside him. They think him one of them, and neither he nor Kronos bother to correct them.
He never does learn what her name was, but that's hardly important, is it?
He existed for centuries without a name, after all.
~
Caspian, Kronos' new protégé, is an observant one. He watches everything around him, but especially Methos and Kronos, and he notices that there is something subtly off about Methos. Something powerful and alluring.
He sees Methos feasting, one night, and he draws his own conclusions.
He starts devouring human meat and blood after that, and does not stop when it fails to grant him the same quality he has admired in Methos.
For his part, Methos starts to think that he might also take in a young Immortal, if only to keep things even between he and Kronos.
~
Silas isn't the sharpest, but he loves what he does with an endearing enthusiasm, and he's loyal.
Methos has enough of sharp with Kronos and Caspian, anyway, and he has been wanting some variety in his life.
~
Methos never feeds from Cassandra, although he often thinks about it. Probably he would have in the end, had he not decided that it might be more interesting to let her go.
She disappears into the desert, and nothing more interesting than Kronos' anger comes of it.
He thinks that it must be time to start something new, but he knows that Kronos will not agree. Well, he shall have to do it on his own, then. It does not matter if Kronos tries to stop him, because he is certain that he can disappear just as thoroughly as Cassandra.
~
The woman falls bloody and exhausted at Methos' feet. He can tell just from a glance that she has forced herself beyond all endurance. Now, her heartbeat is weak and the light in her eyes has almost gone out.
Even though he does not know this woman, and he has seen and caused uncountable deaths, something within him rebels against the possibility of her death. It might be something in her eyes, what little life remains, or it might be the determination that brought her here.
Quite possibly, there is no real reason. Sometimes, feelings simply are.
Whatever the reason, he decides to try something he never has before. Maybe it will save her, and maybe it won't. Probably it won't. It is, however, the only thing he can think to do.
He cradles her close as she drinks from the cut he has made on his neck. He feels her returning strength in her grip on his shoulders.
Perhaps this will be the change he has been hoping for, ever since he left his brothers.
They part, and she looks at him with adoration. "Thank you," she whispers. "Whatever you've done, whatever you are, thank you." She clasps her hands and lowers her gaze demurely. "What do you want from me? Anything I can give, it is yours."
"What do you want?" he says.
She looks at him with guarded surprise, and then she laughs. It is fierce, unhappy laughter. "I? I want revenge. Now I shall have it, because of you. Is that what you want? Is that why you saved me?"
"What do you think I am, my dear?"
"I don't know. A devil, probably. I don't care."
"You're the same thing as me, now. Do what you want."
All he wants is to see what she will do, this new creature that he created with no idea of what he was doing. If there is one thing he has learnt about himself, over millennia of existence, it is that he likes to see what change will bring.
~
She becomes a legend, or takes up the mantle of one. Because her little sons were murdered, she murders the little sons of the ones responsible, right down to the seventh generation.
It only takes two generations for her purpose to be forgotten by all but two beings. Her victims call her Lilith, after a demon in an old story.
She never gives another name, so Lilith she remains.
~
Methos sits in Joe's Bar, sipping a beer. His company for the evening is Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod, and Joe Dawson. To them, he is a legend come to life, and just a guy at the same time. He is the oldest Immortal.
Well, it is more or less true.
"I'm telling you, I saw it!" Duncan insists.
Joe is shaking his head. "Really, Mac? A vampire?"
"It's true!"
Methos could rule over the vampires, if he wanted. He is, after all, their progenitor. Their queen and mother Lilith would hand over her power in an instant, if only he asked.
He would much rather stay hidden and pretend to be a child of the storm. The vampires are just fine believing that Lilith was the first. Oh, she has never said she is, but vampires are just as inclined to assumptions as humans are. It's not as though he ever made another besides Lilith, anyway, even when he was tempted.
Looking at Mac's stubborn expression, he thinks that he's most likely about to become involved with his wayward "children", whether he likes it or not.
That's friendship with Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod for you.