ancient wounds pt 25
Author: yours truly, ExMaverick aka Jess
Title: Ancient Wounds
Rating: PG-13 for blood ref.
Summary: Prequel to my vampire fic Deepest Shadow. Ville recounts the events of his mortal life growing up in the poverty of 20th century Finland, wrought with grief, sex, romance, passion and abuse leading into his birth to darkness.
His lengthy tales are imparted to the sleepy mind of his young lover, but only in the seclusion of his own darkest thoughts does he begin to relive the greatest obsessions and deepest hurts rooted in his bygone and decadent time.
Warnings: Blood, angst, abuse.
Pairing: Vam,Ville/Jonne (in parts)
Previous Parts 1, 2, 3, 4, 5i, 5ii, 6, 7, 8, 9i, 9ii, 10i, 10ii, 10iii,11, 12i, 12ii, 13, 14i, 14ii, 14iii, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20i, 20ii,
21, 22, 23, 24
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“Why was I chosen, Master?” you asked, arms strewn wantonly about my neck. All was quiet and peaceful but begged to be disturbed, such was the case after all our love making.
I was offset by your inquisition, and you saw I before I could do anything to conceal it. I was taken back that I had been so unprepared that you should ask.
I felt the tenderness bleed out of me in that moment, you seemed so self-assured and strong with your limbs dominating mine and so very certain with the question you gave up to me.
“Did you not ask me for The Blood, my love?” I responded, voice cool against the odds within me. I was trembling slightly. How deeply I loved you. How deeply I didn’t want you to know.
“Yes Lord, true enough” you smiled, arrogance on beautifully full lips “but I tasted you many a night before you took me, did I not?” You paused, drew close to my lips and continued “why did you choose me for such kisses and such a wonderful gift?”
“I loved you,” I murmured, eyes cast down to our naked torsos .You shook your head.
“I think there was so much more to it than that, my sweetest Lord,” you sighed, suddenly expression sullen "so much more that perhaps even you wisdoms do not see"
“Then be my teacher” I whispered, and kissed you all the way back into bed.
…………………
I lay on the stone cell floor as one might in a chapel, quiet, open and soul bare. I closed my eyes and felt the human tissue in my cheek flush with the fettered blood of the night’s little ambushes upon unsuspecting rodents. I had been told by my Master that my face would still flush and become ruddy after feeding, and being so young it would take some years before the human traces in my skin were completely gone, but until then it would be easiest to blend it with the rest of the world. I had not seen him since the eve before.
I lay there in the bitter but beauteous silence, feeling everything around me with my supernatural sensitivity. The roughness and cold of the stone bellow my fingertips, the softness of my filthy clothes, the dull pinch of the gorgeous cameo around my pale throat.
I heard the gentle sounds of footsteps somewhere far across the floor, far away from the dankness of the cell, coming closer but every as quiet. The sound filled my senses, the tap of leather against stone dissolving into a fluid throbbing within my mind beating fast and hard like the heat within my chest.
Someone was standing in the doorway.
I made no move to scramble as the artificial light flooded through into the chamber, but instead lay there, naturally and instinctively unafraid. I sat up to look upon them only when they spoke.
“Thank God your alive,” said the shadowy figure obscured by the glaring light and masking dark “Henri told me you’d been killed”
I rubbed my eyes ceremoniously with my soiled white sleeve and stood to view the mysterious figure. My knees were weak, my stomach sick.
The figure stepped forward into the dark where my eyes knew him better.
Dyre.
My Dyre. Oh, blessed heaven he was alive and here was, with me! My saviour. I ran and kissed him warmly and put my delicate fingers all about his tender face sobbing and smiling and close to delirious with joy.
His gorgeous dark eyes were full of light but also sadness as he held me close and kissed my forehead profusely and protectively. He was so gaunt, not as muscled and strong as before, for they had bled him close to dry. Yes, they had, I would see the thick line of scar from ear to ear upon his white throat, quickly healed but slowly faded for its depth had been so great.
“Ville, Ville listen please-” He begged.
“No. Please. I’ve been alone for so long, "I...I need...”
He relented and held me tight without words for a comforting moment.
We clung to one another like frightened children, kissing and remembering each other’s bodies with our fingertips. He whispered what they had done to him. The mark on his throat had been caused by the very blade in my bedroom, that which had cut off all my hair many months before, he knife belonging to my father.
I was in outrage.
He kissed me one last time before pulling away bitterly and his voice began to shake.
“Ville, oh God Ville”
“What? What is it…” I shivered, suddenly far more unsettled than before.
His eyes cast down now to the icy floor, he began to cry desperately and clench his fists together at his sides. He muttered something of apologies and forgiveness but I could not understand.
“Dyre, please-” I began, when I felt the presence of others with us. By the door stood three figures bathed in firelight, those of Mikael, Antonious and Henri.
I was so repulsed by their sight I though that I would be physically ill on the spot, and to see Dyre cry made me scared for us both. He looked into my eyes as if I had been put to death.
They beckoned Dyre to them who complied still weeping and never broke our gaze. He shuddered and bit his lip hard that it drew crimson blood across his quivering chin. Henri kissed his temple intimately with a mailicious laughter. Antonious stepped out towards me smirking from ear to ear,and Mikael followed in turn.
“Ville…please forgive me! I did everything to stop them” Dyre bawled “Ville, I didn’t know what else to do, Ville I love you”
And then, quiet simply,Dyre ran.