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Wake up

Martyn

The first thing Martyn saw when he opened his eyes was nothing. No, seriously, everything was black. Where on earth was he?

Martyn was confused, if that word even did justice to his situation. He tried to move around to find something that would help him figure out where he was. The first thing he touched was stone: stone on the floor, stone on the walls, stone on the ceiling… wait a minute, on the ceiling? He wasn't even standing up. Now that Martyn looked closer, he was lying down. Had they buried him?

The last thing he remembered was being in his castle (which was definitely his and he hadn't just taken it since its owners were dead) and that he'd been having problems with the people he ruled. Governing a village of humans was harder than Lord made it seem.

Martyn knew the people had planned a revolution to overthrow him, but he was immortal. It wouldn't have worked. But the narrow walls and total darkness made him think it had.

Martyn remembers how they entered the castle with torches and rakes. He thought he could handle them; in fact, he killed most of them. But then he remembers one of them saying some strange words, almost like he was singing, and how tired he felt afterward. Which is odd—he was a vampire; vampires don't get tired…

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DID THEY PUT HIM TO SLEEP WITH MAGIC?!

That was humiliating—a powerful vampire defeated by sleep. It was a good thing they were foolish enough not to stake him when they had the chance. When he got out of there, they'd pay.

Martyn could already hear the Lord and Sire's voices in his head, telling him what a disgrace his fate and defeat were. Well, he was alive, and they were dead. Who was the disgrace now?

Martyn tried to rummage through his… tomb? I suppose this was his tomb. if he found something he could use

He found a… sword? An axe? A pickaxe? And… bread and fish?! Why would they bury him with these things? They were supposed to want him dead, and why weren't the bread and fish rotten? Martyn seriously doubted the food could last that long without spoiling in this environment.

Putting the food's illogical nature aside, Martyn used the pickaxe to climb out of his coffin.

When he emerged, he couldn't say what he saw was fine. It was old, and despite the ravages of time, he recognized the place: the castle crypt, the one Sire always liked to be in, the one they never allowed Martyn to be with.

Martyn wandered around the crypt for a while, trying to get used to being awake again. It was so difficult for him to move; it seemed like he'd been asleep for a very long time. The question now was, how long had he been asleep?

When he emerged from the crypt, he couldn't say the castle was any better. Who was he kidding? It was a disaster. It had no roof, no walls, no rooms. It wasn't even a castle anymore, just a pile of stones.

"What on earth happened here?!" Martyn threw his hands up in despair, trying to grasp how much time had actually passed. Judging by the state of the castle, either the villagers had gone mad and had truly dedicated that much effort to dismantling it piece by piece, or his revenge would have to wait. Judging by its condition, it had been sleeping for what felt like a millennium.

There was nothing Martyn could do about it, and he had to admit it infuriated him. The years he'd enjoyed the castle's luxuries without a Sire or Lord telling him what to do or reminding him of all those stupid rules he'd never bothered to learn had been wonderful. He'd felt strong, he'd felt free. Now he had to start from scratch …. again.

Martyn had slept in worse places, so he'd surely manage; perhaps he'd even rebuild the castle. Yes, he will do that, perhaps he could even reconquer the village, make it his own, truly his, without Lord constantly telling him that everything belonged to them.

Martyn already had a goal in mind: go to the village, see who was left, hide among them to gather information on who was worth keeping and who might be a problem while he recovered his strength and rebuilt his empire. An easy task; he was a vampire, stronger than any human in that backwater village.

There was no one who could stop him.

Apo

When Apo woke up, the first thing she felt was cold, a sensation she hadn't yet grown accustomed to, or perhaps she had and simply didn't like it; that was also a possibility.

However, Apo didn't usually feel so cold in the mornings; the warmth that Cherri and their dogs gave off was usually enough to keep them warm. Now that Apo looked closer, she felt something heavy pressing down on her. It wasn't the blankets on their bed, no, it was something else. It was dark. Had they drawn the curtains? No, it was too dark if that were the case. 

Apo tried to move, but it was harder than usual, as if her body and mind were urging her to stay put. Whatever was on top of her moved with her, as if it were taking over the space she had left. Where was she?

She tried feeling around to see if she had a clue. She reached to one side and grabbed a piece of… of something. It slipped from her grasp. Was it sand? No, it was wet, it was hard, it was dirt.

Apo tried to move her body and ended up face down (if she had even been lying down at all) and touched something hard, textured, rough. It was… wood?...

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Oh…

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She knew where she was…

Just thinking that what had happened was real and not a nightmare only made them want to turn over and go back to sleep. Hopefully, that way she would be reunited with her, but at this point, Apo doubted that was how it worked.

Apo stayed curled up on the ground, on top of the wood, a while longer, lost in memories. All she really wanted was to stay there forever, to wait for sleep to return and take her back to it, or whatever it was that happened when she tried to sleep. She couldn't think of any better place; it was her grave, after all.

Apo wanted to stay there, but the ground began to vibrate. At first, she tried to ignore it and close her eyes, but it grew stronger the longer it went on. To make matters worse, she began to hear other noises.

Thump... thump... thump...

Bam... bam... bam...

Were they footsteps? Heartbeats?

The idea that it was the last thing gave her hope, until she realized it was coming from above the ground, not from beneath it. It was probably the town.

Just thinking about the town sent a shiver down her spine. She really didn't want to go back, not after what happened, not after what they did, not after what she did.

But the noises and vibrations were becoming unbearable.

She tried to put her hands to her ears, but it seemed the noise could only get worse.

"Ugh.., fine, fine, I'm coming," she said, defeated, and with great physical and mental effort, she emerged from the ground.

Apo didn't know what to expect when she came out of the ground, but it definitely wasn't a bunch of blossom trees.

"But... what... How much time has passed?" Apo knew where she was; it couldn't be anywhere else, and she remembered that there had only been one cherry blossom tree, not a whole forest of them.

When she turned around, she saw it. It was the largest cherry tree in the entire forest, and it was also clearly the oldest, too old (it still had the carving cherri had made on it).

Apo lowered her gaze and bent down to place her hand on the stone beneath the tree.

"At least this hasn't changed that much." The gravestone was worn with time, cracked, and surrounded by plants, but the inscription was still legible.

"Here lies Cherri Fire"

"You will never be forgotten"

Apo couldn't say exactly how long she remained in that position, but it was a long time. Everything around her had changed so much; it wasn't hours, it wasn't days, it felt like years, many years, too many years.

Apo was right. Whatever she had become prevented her from aging. It wasn't her imagination; she wasn't changing, while Cherri was.

Not that this knowledge made her feel better; in fact, it made her feel worse. She had to find another way; this one wasn't working. But first, she had to find out how much time had passed or try to discover what she was, so she could know how she could reunite with her. (Seven years had passed since Fernsfield, what made her think that she was going to find out now?)

They had to believe; there had to be a way. Maybe the town would give them a clue. As much as she didn't want to go to Oakhurst, it was the best place to start. Maybe she'd find out there how much time had passed. What was the worst that could happen? At this point, Apo had nothing to lose.

Apo got up and started walking, trying with all his might not to look at or go into their house. She couldn't do it, not without her, not without Cherri.

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To write this, I was inspired by a post from @mayashesfly; I'll leave a link so you can see it.

I have to say that English isn't my first language, and I'm using a translator, so I apologize in advance for any spelling mistakes.

So the basic premise of this AU is that Apo and Martyn are the starting vampires instead of Owen and Scott, but at the same time, they're basically the opposite of them, with Apo valuing humanity more than vampirism and Martyn being a fake nobleman, among other things.

I'm going to call this AU the “Appletree Starter AU”.

Warning: This story contains descriptions of violence.

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First Turned

Scott

The plan to achieve immortality was simple. Scott just needed to go to that city in the middle of nowhere, where it was rumored the creature that would grant him immortality lived, find it, and offer it a more than generous amount of gold in exchange for turning it into one of its own. Who would refuse such an offer?

Getting trapped in that damn town wasn't part of the plan. Scott didn't really think it would take him so long to find the creature, or rather, to discover who the creature was, but if his knowledge of ancient paintings and paper was correct, he had already found it.

Ah, there they are, in the middle of the dark woods where no one could hear them. That was perfect timing.

"I have to admit, you know how to hide. Your trick with the garlic bucket was a good strategy, but I've still discovered your true nature."

The woman standing before Scott turned around immediately upon hearing him. He saw her long red hair hanging over her dress. Now that Scott looked closely, the fabric seemed old, worn, not to mention the style—very outdated. What he dismissed as bad taste was a crucial clue to her true nature. It seems bad taste sometimes has an explanation. Sometimes.

"What are you talking about, Scott?"

Oh, so she was playing dumb. Well, Scott knew he'd already won that game. The paintings he found in that abandoned cabin on the outskirts of town were the definitive proof, and Scott was getting tired of waiting.

"Stop lying, Apo. I know what you are," he said with a wide smile as he approached her with smooth movements, just as he had done a million times before to get what he wanted.

"I know your kind burn in the sun, I know you need blood to live, I know you didn't end up in Oakhurst because you were just passing through, I know you're from here, I know you're immortal."

Scott watched as Apo backed away while he advanced. This would be easy.

"You know how I know? Living surrounded by valuable and ancient art has its advantages. You can tell how old a painting is just by looking at the condition of the paper it's on, the kind of materials used, and if my calculations are correct, I'd say this painting is approximately, umm, 200 years old." After that, Scott unrolled the painting he had kept in his robes, the one he found in the cabin, and he could see Apo's body tense as her pupils contracted.

"Where did you find that?"

"Does it look familiar?"

"Give me that!" Apo said, lunging at Scott to grab the painting, but the nobleman managed to dodge her.

"Come on, no need to get so worked up. It's you after all." Inside the cabin, he found a pile of paintings, most of them have the same person. The painting Scott held had worn paper and faded paint due to age, but it was still well-preserved enough to perfectly capture the features of the person in the painting, as if the artist had gone to great lengths to preserve the details.

Scott immediately recognized the woman in the paintings: the same red hair, the same eye color, the same face. It was her, it was Apo. The only thing that had changed was the expression.

"This just proves I'm right! You're over 200 years old! You're immortal! I know you're a vampire!" Scott said, still dodging Apo until she managed to snatch the paint from his hand, tearing his suit and drawing blood on his wrist with her claws.

When Apo had the paint in her hands (claws?), she froze, so focused on it that it seemed her world had shrunk to just her and the paint.

"What do you want, Scott?" Apo said, gripping the paint even tighter.

"I've come to propose a deal that can benefit us both. I'm willing to offer you a generous sum of money, enough to live surrounded by luxury for all your eternity, and in return, all you have to do is transform into one of your own."

"What?" Apo stared at Scott, confused, as if he had said something unthinkable.

"I want you to turn me into a vampire."

"Why... why would you want something like that? It's horrible."

"Oh, come on, immortality, power, eternal youth... you can't tell me you don't enjoy it even a little bit."

"No... I don't, and neither will you. You don't know what you're asking for."

"Oh, come on, it's a simple deal: you transform me, I give you money, and everyone's happy." Scott saw Apo look away and clench her fists. If she was going to play hard to get, two can play that game.

She wasn't going to deprive him of immortality.

"If you don't transform me, I'll tell the whole town you're a vampire. I'm sure the vampire hunter will love that little tidbit."

"What?... Why would you do that?... Are you seriously that desperate?!"

Scott saw Apo starting to get agitated, so this did affect her. He just needed to push the right buttons and he'd break her.

"There are two ways to do this: either you accept my deal where I give you money, or you face the crazy vampire hunter."

"What about you? They'll hunt you too if I turn you, don't you care?"

"Avid already thinks I'm a vampire. Why don't we make him right? That kid really needs a win."

"You'd have to drink blood, you'd have to kill to survive, you'd never be able to eat normal food again, you couldn't lie in the sun without it hurting. Don't you care about any of that?"

"Compared to the immortality and the power I can gain as a vampire, that's nothing."

Scott saw Apo's expression change, how she looked at him with a mixture of seriousness and anger.

"You'll have to watch everyone you've ever loved die before your eyes, watch them age and grow while you remain exactly the same. Doesn't that matter to you?" Apo said, staring at her hands as her breathing became ragged.

"Like I said, it's a small price to pay for immortality. I can always meet other people, people who won't die."

At that moment, Apo's breathing became labored, and as she stood up, unsheathed her claws, she said in a serious voice,

"If you're so desperate to be a vampire, why don't I give you the full experience?"

Apo slashed Scott with her claws, scratching his face. She punched him in the stomach with her other hand and then kicked him, sending him sprawling to the ground.

Things had definitely gone off plan. Scott had expected fangs, not claws.

Apo pinned Scott to the ground, clawing at his chest and pressing her knee into Scott's stomach. Scott tried to scream in pain, but Apo's hand stifled his scream, preventing him from moving his head.

Apo opened her mouth, baring her fangs.

At that moment, Scott felt something he had never felt before. It wasn't satisfaction, anger, or annoyance; it was fear—fear of losing his life, fear that his story would end like this, fear that his name would be forgotten. Scott was afraid of dying.

The movement was swift, yet slow. Scott felt an intense pain in his neck, unlike anything he had ever experienced. Then he felt his energy draining away. Was this really how it was going to end?

Just as he felt he was about to lose consciousness, something happened. The exhaustion vanished instantly, and he suddenly felt stronger, hungrier, thirstier.

Apo got off him, and with blood dripping from her mouth and dress, said, "Happy now?"

"Plenty," Scott said, sitting up and putting his hand to his neck with a smile that would surely show his new fangs.

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