Nickitty

One day after a full moon, maybe five years after canon, Pearl stumbles back to Oakhurst horribly injured. She’s already died once, clearly, as she’s in her level one form. She’s weak enough that the only thing denoting her as a vampire is the fangs visible in her mouth, open with small gasps and pants of pain. The issue is that she only manages to make it to town before collapsing, in too rough shape to go any further. She lays down on the floor of her and Cleo’s old home and remembers the first few nights in Oakhurst before they made a bed. She’s not sure how long she lays there, time is odd when you’re immortal and in the kind of pain that should kill you but stubbornly refuses to (Cleo finds her 8 days after the full moon, she’s told later). She’s so hungry, she’s starving even. She can’t heal without blood, but it’s not like an animal is going to just wander into the house.

Finally, Cleo is doing her rounds of Oakhurst to check for any hapless travelers and when she makes it to town, she sees a trail of blood leading into her and Pearl’s old home. Old blood, already long since gone a dark brown that stains the dirt paths around town. There’s no trail leading out. She braces herself for whatever she’s about to find, a corpse if the age and amount of the blood tells her anything. She’s not braced to find Pearl, prone and trembling. Pearl barely reacts to her opening the door, or her dropping to her knees beside her to check the injuries. They’re not bleeding anymore, couldn’t possibly be after this much time, but they’re still open and deep and not healing because Pearl’s not fed in so long. She had been killed and dropped to her weakest form and then attacked again while still vulnerable, though she had gotten away without being killed again. She’s lucky it was a werewolf and not someone with enough knowledge of her being a vampire to know to stake her, or she would be fully dead.

And Cleo, well they feel like such an idiot because as they feel for their own supply of blood, they realize there’s only a couple of mouthfuls left. The town was their last stop before heading home, the woods surrounding it are still barren and burnt down (they’ve replanted the saplings but it will be another decade before the tree line even starts to resemble what it once was) and the population of wild animals is still recovering from the damage the castle coven and Abolish did to it. Cleo gives Pearl what they have left, panic starting rise as Pearl weakly sips at the small amount in the bottle despite the fact that she must be ravenous. Their heart (they have one now, they know, because Pearl insists they do and they’re really starting to believe her) breaks in their chest as Pearl stares up at them with hazy blue eyes, only just barely tinted red when the light catches them a certain way.

So Cleo does the only thing she can think to do and uses her claws to cut open her wrist before sticking it in Pearl’s mouth. Pearl begins to drink on instinct the moment the coppery taste hits her tongue. It’s unpleasant to say the least, Cleo’s not been fed on much in her lifetime surprisingly and the sensation of her blood being sucked out is… well strange really is the best word for it. But she’s at full strength, she can spare as much as Pearl needs to start healing so they can get back to the castle and Cleo can restock their blood supply. It takes a couple of minutes before Pearl pulls away, but Cleo doesn’t mind. The cuts (claw marks, most likely) covering her body have closed. Her eyes have regained their red color. Except, they haven’t lost their haziness. Pearl is looking at her like a trained dog, waiting for her next command.

Cleo’s stomach drops to their feet as they process what’s happening. By feeding Pearl their blood, they’ve thralled her. It’s not the first time Pearl has looked at Cleo like they’re her everything, but it’s the first time it’s been tinged with such helplessness. Cleo remembers that feeling, the certain knowledge that the man controlling her was the most important person in the whole world, hanging off his every word, unable to stop herself from following his orders even when she so desperately wanted to. She remembers the way his voice overpowered her mind, her own voice becoming a useless screaming protest choked out by his power.

The thrall will wear off, Cleo knows, in a few days. They could wait here with Pearl, never give her a single command. They don’t know if it’s different when you love the person who thralled you (and Cleo has drunk Pearl’s blood, has seen how much she loves her, and the responsibility of being someone worthy of that much love and care has haunted them since they met her), but Pearl seems more out of it than Cleo had ever been. Cleo hadn’t been able to do much on their own, but they had been able to walk around a bit when they didn’t have a direct order to follow. They were able to get food for themself (after being directed that it was meal time) and put themself to bed (after being directed that it was time to sleep).

But Pearl isn’t even moving besides the gentle motion of sucking on Cleo’s wrist, just staring at them, gaze completely empty of anything except blind devotion. Cleo had been fed maybe a mouthful or two of blood every day to keep them compliant. Pearl has been drinking from them for minutes. Maybe they can just go to the castle themself, bring blood back from their livestock. But as they get up to leave, sliding their wrist from Pearl’s mouth and resting her head gently back on the floor, Pearl perks up in a panic. They’re at the door before Pearl manages to stand, swaying slightly.

For just a moment, Cleo is relieved. Maybe Pearl isn’t thralled and had just been caught up in the feeling of eating for the first time in days. But that relief fades quickly as Pearl scrambles towards them, hands desperately clutching onto their sleeve.

“Don’t leave me, please,” She whimpers, so unlike Cleo’s brave hunter that it makes them feel sick. “I need you,”

Cleo swallows down their bile. They were never this… needy when thralled. When awaiting orders, they did so silently. They stole what few moments of autonomy they had to do small things they enjoyed that didn’t break any commands (don’t speak, don’t leave the estate, don’t bother anyone, don’t take anything that doesn’t belong to you), little rebellions like humming to themself (not speaking) or drawing with their finger in the dirt (not in anyone’s way) or reading what books they could get their hands on (It’s not taking it if they put it right back. They could get in a single chapter at a time before being called away).

Maybe it’s because of their preexisting relationship or maybe it’s because of the amount of blood she’s drunk, but Pearl is past obedience and into devotion. If Cleo ordered her to, Pearl would stand right here, shaking and missing them, while they went through with their plan of going back to the castle for blood. But Pearl asked her not to leave her here (because of the thrall, she reminds herself) and who is Cleo to deny her anything, especially right now when she’s messed up so badly? So she tries to keep her voice gentle, in a way she’s only ever used for Pearl and small animals.

“Okay, come on then, we’re going home,” Cleo tries not to make it seem like an order, but the way Pearl’s head tilts tells her it’s been processed as one. Pearl gives a dopey smile, and Cleo wonders if this is what she would have been like drunk if they had met at a time where that was possible.

“I’m always home with you,” Pearl’s voice slurs, pure affection coating each word. It’s a sentiment she’s expressed before, but right now it feels so wrong, so dirty.

Cleo spends the next few days with Pearl at the castle, carefully trying not to order her to do anything. She has to, sometimes, because Pearl won’t eat on her own, won’t sleep on her own, won’t do anything except follow her around and stare with that sick amount of devotion. It wears off in bits and pieces, not all at once. Pearl absentmindedly pets Oscar of her own volition on day 3, she sings to herself like she normally would while getting ready for bed on day 7, and finally on day 9, the thrall has lifted from her completely. When she wakes up to Pearl staring at her with a clear gaze, Cleo stumbles over her words to apologize. Pearl cuts her off.

“Cleo, thank you for taking care of me,” She says. It’s not in the dopey, syrupy, lovestruck way she’s been talking for over a week. It’s all Pearl, honest and grounded. Cleo shakes her head, unwilling to accept it.

“No, no you should be angry at me,” they insist, “I thralled you! I- I did to you what he did to me! I said I was never going to be like him. I don’t want to be like him,”

Their voice cracks on the last few words, and they start to cry. Big childish sobs heave from them as Pearl wraps them in her arms, cooing comfort.

“I’m not mad, I could never be mad at you for that. I know you didn’t want to, you had to, it’s okay,” And then the words that hit Cleo the hardest, “You were so good to me. You’re so good, Cleo. You would never hurt me, you’re so good,”