Embrace The Dark [3.0]
Title: Embrace the Dark [3/?]
Author:
xmychemx
Pairing: Ville/Bam
Rating: PG-15.
Summary: They were born to destroy each other...
Disclaimer: Don't own, please don't sue. Ville and Bam own themselves, and HIM owns the title.
Beta:
byond_redemptn Love.
Author's Note: I told you I wouldn't make you wait as long! =D This one's a longer chapter, too.
Warnings: Supernatural themes.
[Prologue] [1] [2]
"Master Valo!"
Ville had always hated it when they call him 'Master'. It was a forceful reminder of whose son he is, who he's expected to be, and most of all, who he will never be.
He tried to shrink away from the sound, disappear into the stone behind him and escape. He was huddled in the grounds at the very back of the mansion, his back resting against the stone wall with his figure hidden by a large rose bush. As usual, there was a book open in his lap. He was sitting cross-legged to make himself even smaller, his head bowed and his mind stuck in the alternate universe that the author meticulously created for him. Ville liked to think of it that way -- Like they wrote it just so that he could escape, like it was made for the essential purpose to save him from his own life.
He ignored the voice as best as he could, but it became increasingly difficult when whoever is looking for him switched from using their voice to call him, to using their mind. Now, there's a hammering in Ville's skull, a constant yell of his name that rings between his ears and behind his eyes. His couldn't block his ears to it, couldn't ignore the sound that continued to call him inside his own head.
Sometimes, Ville despises being a vampire.
This was most certainly one of those times. The voice in his mind thankfully started to dim and Ville thought that maybe he was going to be left in peace, but then there was an insistent tugging of his mind, and he could feel someone else trying to enter. He was being searched out, he knew, and it was ten times worse than being summoned. At least then he could choose to ignore them, however difficult it was. He could sense them getting closer, spurred on by the new knowledge of where he was located, and Ville groaned, slamming the book shut and shoving it deep into the middle of the rose bush to hide it.
As he moved to withdraw his hand, he hissed in pain as the sharp thorns dug into his skin from all sides. He gritted his teeth, tugged his arm sharply and pulled his hand out of the shrub, inspecting the damage. The first beads of crimson liquid were beginning to form, blossoming from various shallow cuts and one deeper gash. Ville couldn't help but stare, his eyes transfixed as the tiny beads joined together, trickling out of the cuts and over the pale skin of his hand. His mouth suddenly began to water, and he could feel his stomach twisting in anticipation at even the sight of his own blood. He waited another moment, prolonging the sensation, teasing himself. It wasn't often that Ville agreed to going out on a hunt, and as such, the taste of blood on his tongue was that much sharper when he did. He hated killing the innocents, hated the way their blood gushed from the carefully punctured veins and into his own mouth, calming him, and at the same time, driving him wild. But this was his own blood, and this wasn't the first time that Ville had drank from himself. It was an easy alternative. He could still enjoy the sensations of feeding, quieting his hunger for the time being, without destroying somebody's life.
The teasing was all part of the enjoyment.
The longer he waited, the more his stomach twisted itself into knots, his tongue darting out to wet his lips every so often, until he couldn't bear it any longer. He lifted his hand to his lips, sucking the first droplet onto his tongue, and before long, he was ravenous, sucking and swallowing, cleaning his skin of the running liquid.
That was how he was found - hiding amongst the rose bushes, eagerly drinking his own blood.
Ville knew that the news would not go down well as soon as he lifted his eyes to see the small messenger boy staring at him, wide eyed and open-mouthed.
"M-Master Valo?"
Ville tore his hand from his mouth, tucking it behind his back, his tongue coming out again to clean the last droplets of blood from his lips. Looking up at the boy innocently, Ville nodded, offering a weak smile.
"Yes?"
"Your f-father requests your p-presence," the boy stuttered out, still in shock from finding the future leader of their coven in the middle of such a self-degrading act.
Forcing a nod, Ville got to his feet, forcing his right hand into his pocket to hide the scratches and tears of skin. He knew the boy had seen, but there was no need to draw his attention even more so to the fact.
"Thank you," he answered politely, slipping past the boy and around the corner. His feet carried him mindlessly up the steps of the mansion, where the large oak door greeted him with a sense of foreboding. Ville did his best to push the feeling away, placing a hand on the doorknob and opening it with ease, despite its apparent weight. He disappeared inside without a sound, his feet gliding across the foyer floor with the barest of tapping noises, the heels of his boots clicking against the stone. He kept his gaze firmly on the ground beneath his feet, knowing that news had probably already begun to travel, and not wanting to face the accusing stares he knew would be directed at him in that moment.
Before he even got a chance to knock on the door of his father's quarters, it was swinging open. His father stood, his face set in stone as he looked down on his only son.
"In, Ville."
Ville did as he was told. Kari took one look at him before shaking his head, sitting back down behind his large desk and gesturing for Ville to sit. The younger man did so, settling his hands timidly in his lap and forcing himself not to fidget.
"Drinking your own blood, Ville?"
Ville didn't reply; he didn't need to. He kept his eyes on his hands, his pale cheeks reddening.
"You have to power to crush any mortal with only an ounce of effort. They are nothing compared to your strength, Ville, you know this. So why, why don't you use that to your advantage?"
Still, he said nothing.
"Do you like feeding on your own blood, Ville? Is your own blood so fucking delectable that you prefer it over the more sensible option?"
It was obvious that his father was angry now, but Ville still refused to look at him, his mouth pressed in a firm line. He was not going to give in, but he wasn't going to fight back, either.
"I don't understand you, Ville," his father sighed finally, sitting back in his chair and shaking his head.
And you never will
Ville immediately clamped down on his thoughts, knowing that his father was probably in his head right at that moment, and not wanting to be caught out. He was too late.
"No, I don't believe I will. But please, Ville, for the sake of the entire coven, please, just at least pretend to be the man you were born to be?"
"Yes, sir."
"Good. There's rumour that the werewolves--" he spits the word as though it tastes horrid on his tongue, "-- are relocating closer. We all need to keep our wits about us; including you. Especially you."
At this, Ville's head snapped up. They have managed to avoid confrontation with the werewolves for years. Why, after so long, do they suddenly feel the need to invade their territory? Surely they must know that it will only result in war...
"Why do they come?" Ville couldn't help but ask, and he was almost glad that he spoke up when his father smiled at him kindly.
"Now you're using your head, Ville. We're not sure, as of yet, but we intend to find out. This can only end in bloodshed..."
Ville noticed the gleam in his father's eyes, and he wondered whether that's what Kari Valo hoped for.
"How long until they arrive, do we know?"
"A week, at most."
Author:
xmychemx
Pairing: Ville/Bam
Rating: PG-15.
Summary: They were born to destroy each other...
Disclaimer: Don't own, please don't sue. Ville and Bam own themselves, and HIM owns the title.
Beta:
byond_redemptn Love.
Author's Note: I told you I wouldn't make you wait as long! =D This one's a longer chapter, too.
Warnings: Supernatural themes.
[Prologue] [1] [2]
"Master Valo!"
Ville had always hated it when they call him 'Master'. It was a forceful reminder of whose son he is, who he's expected to be, and most of all, who he will never be.
He tried to shrink away from the sound, disappear into the stone behind him and escape. He was huddled in the grounds at the very back of the mansion, his back resting against the stone wall with his figure hidden by a large rose bush. As usual, there was a book open in his lap. He was sitting cross-legged to make himself even smaller, his head bowed and his mind stuck in the alternate universe that the author meticulously created for him. Ville liked to think of it that way -- Like they wrote it just so that he could escape, like it was made for the essential purpose to save him from his own life.
He ignored the voice as best as he could, but it became increasingly difficult when whoever is looking for him switched from using their voice to call him, to using their mind. Now, there's a hammering in Ville's skull, a constant yell of his name that rings between his ears and behind his eyes. His couldn't block his ears to it, couldn't ignore the sound that continued to call him inside his own head.
Sometimes, Ville despises being a vampire.
This was most certainly one of those times. The voice in his mind thankfully started to dim and Ville thought that maybe he was going to be left in peace, but then there was an insistent tugging of his mind, and he could feel someone else trying to enter. He was being searched out, he knew, and it was ten times worse than being summoned. At least then he could choose to ignore them, however difficult it was. He could sense them getting closer, spurred on by the new knowledge of where he was located, and Ville groaned, slamming the book shut and shoving it deep into the middle of the rose bush to hide it.
As he moved to withdraw his hand, he hissed in pain as the sharp thorns dug into his skin from all sides. He gritted his teeth, tugged his arm sharply and pulled his hand out of the shrub, inspecting the damage. The first beads of crimson liquid were beginning to form, blossoming from various shallow cuts and one deeper gash. Ville couldn't help but stare, his eyes transfixed as the tiny beads joined together, trickling out of the cuts and over the pale skin of his hand. His mouth suddenly began to water, and he could feel his stomach twisting in anticipation at even the sight of his own blood. He waited another moment, prolonging the sensation, teasing himself. It wasn't often that Ville agreed to going out on a hunt, and as such, the taste of blood on his tongue was that much sharper when he did. He hated killing the innocents, hated the way their blood gushed from the carefully punctured veins and into his own mouth, calming him, and at the same time, driving him wild. But this was his own blood, and this wasn't the first time that Ville had drank from himself. It was an easy alternative. He could still enjoy the sensations of feeding, quieting his hunger for the time being, without destroying somebody's life.
The teasing was all part of the enjoyment.
The longer he waited, the more his stomach twisted itself into knots, his tongue darting out to wet his lips every so often, until he couldn't bear it any longer. He lifted his hand to his lips, sucking the first droplet onto his tongue, and before long, he was ravenous, sucking and swallowing, cleaning his skin of the running liquid.
That was how he was found - hiding amongst the rose bushes, eagerly drinking his own blood.
Ville knew that the news would not go down well as soon as he lifted his eyes to see the small messenger boy staring at him, wide eyed and open-mouthed.
"M-Master Valo?"
Ville tore his hand from his mouth, tucking it behind his back, his tongue coming out again to clean the last droplets of blood from his lips. Looking up at the boy innocently, Ville nodded, offering a weak smile.
"Yes?"
"Your f-father requests your p-presence," the boy stuttered out, still in shock from finding the future leader of their coven in the middle of such a self-degrading act.
Forcing a nod, Ville got to his feet, forcing his right hand into his pocket to hide the scratches and tears of skin. He knew the boy had seen, but there was no need to draw his attention even more so to the fact.
"Thank you," he answered politely, slipping past the boy and around the corner. His feet carried him mindlessly up the steps of the mansion, where the large oak door greeted him with a sense of foreboding. Ville did his best to push the feeling away, placing a hand on the doorknob and opening it with ease, despite its apparent weight. He disappeared inside without a sound, his feet gliding across the foyer floor with the barest of tapping noises, the heels of his boots clicking against the stone. He kept his gaze firmly on the ground beneath his feet, knowing that news had probably already begun to travel, and not wanting to face the accusing stares he knew would be directed at him in that moment.
Before he even got a chance to knock on the door of his father's quarters, it was swinging open. His father stood, his face set in stone as he looked down on his only son.
"In, Ville."
Ville did as he was told. Kari took one look at him before shaking his head, sitting back down behind his large desk and gesturing for Ville to sit. The younger man did so, settling his hands timidly in his lap and forcing himself not to fidget.
"Drinking your own blood, Ville?"
Ville didn't reply; he didn't need to. He kept his eyes on his hands, his pale cheeks reddening.
"You have to power to crush any mortal with only an ounce of effort. They are nothing compared to your strength, Ville, you know this. So why, why don't you use that to your advantage?"
Still, he said nothing.
"Do you like feeding on your own blood, Ville? Is your own blood so fucking delectable that you prefer it over the more sensible option?"
It was obvious that his father was angry now, but Ville still refused to look at him, his mouth pressed in a firm line. He was not going to give in, but he wasn't going to fight back, either.
"I don't understand you, Ville," his father sighed finally, sitting back in his chair and shaking his head.
And you never will
Ville immediately clamped down on his thoughts, knowing that his father was probably in his head right at that moment, and not wanting to be caught out. He was too late.
"No, I don't believe I will. But please, Ville, for the sake of the entire coven, please, just at least pretend to be the man you were born to be?"
"Yes, sir."
"Good. There's rumour that the werewolves--" he spits the word as though it tastes horrid on his tongue, "-- are relocating closer. We all need to keep our wits about us; including you. Especially you."
At this, Ville's head snapped up. They have managed to avoid confrontation with the werewolves for years. Why, after so long, do they suddenly feel the need to invade their territory? Surely they must know that it will only result in war...
"Why do they come?" Ville couldn't help but ask, and he was almost glad that he spoke up when his father smiled at him kindly.
"Now you're using your head, Ville. We're not sure, as of yet, but we intend to find out. This can only end in bloodshed..."
Ville noticed the gleam in his father's eyes, and he wondered whether that's what Kari Valo hoped for.
"How long until they arrive, do we know?"
"A week, at most."