#mostly canon

Within every curse, hides a gift. Armand had found it, at last, after he abandoned the ritualistic ways that the children of darkness deemed as sacred. At the heart of Paris and later on all around the world, he started picking up his heightened senses and used them to search for the humanity in each soul, perhaps to make up for his own. He studied the way a person’s heart raced when they looked upon a lover or how a gentle touch was appreciated through the energy that raided off of them. Apart from the various spirits Armand had grown used to witnessing, he now could see, if he focused enough, the life of each human being like a small flame, burning so brightly yet so easily extinguishable. Each time he would lure somebody into his lethal embrace, the fire would present itself again and he couldn’t help but watch it fade away accompanied by the person’s strongest memories flashing before his eyes, raw and tangible. A bittersweet blood filled smile at the nape of their neck, the aftertaste depending on the quality of each existence. The cost of mortality breathing hard down their necks before the catharsis settled in; every experience and opportunity heavy on the tip of their tongues but oh so easily gone like they were never possible at all.

Such a peculiar thing it turned out to be that Armand could have sworn he knew when he met the same souls as before. Their flame a little too familiar, standing out from the norm proudly. He followed those curiously and if they ever stumbled upon a former friend, relative or even lover, Armand could tell from the sudden intensity the fire gained that resembled the effect of fuel. The flames would dance around each other then, drawn to one another by a greater force that connected them despite the barrier of time. It was fascinating to Armand, relieving even, that souls found a way back to each other even through forgotten history and even more so that they were able to accomplish a new meaningful bond to last another century or so. If he could not have it himself, he supposed it was a gift in and of itself to see it so vividly.

One time, a strange flame caught his eye. It reminded him of his human home, both place and time. He followed the soul frantically but he hid at every turn, too afraid he was to face the past and too painful to bring back Amadeo from the grave. He called to him desperately but the human never stopped running and the flame only ever smothered. He either had found the wrong soul to terrorize or his own fire had been lost to nature, his vampiric side meant to solely destroy life.

Riccardo, Armand called to him desperately. Come to me, old friend, he kept saying in his head but he could not will the boy to recognize him. His dearest friend did not look the same, of course. His skin too pale compared to Armand’s and his features no longer emitting a sense of familiarity and safety within him. His eyes a strange violet and his brown curls sitting effortlessly on the top of his head instead of his shoulders. The boy’s lifestyle too cheap compared to Venice and the luxuries they had shared. Armand had lost him brutally that gruesome night, forced to watch as the fire hugged his body but utterly helpless and unable to do anything to stop it. His screams and cries were still ringing in his ears, an ugly sound by all means. The grief had been contagious but Armand could have him back now, just like the countless others he had watched over the course of two centuries biding their time and healing their scars. Wasn’t he allowed this one favor or would he invade his beloved’s heart like a parasite and sicken his pure soul, put out the delicate flame forever?

Daniel. Daniel. Daniel. The name sat oddly on his tongue, too far from home but he could make it work. Daniel. He heard a young girl sighing it through the lustfull bliss in the back of an alley where the boy had whisked her away. Quick and filthy. He didn’t approve but he could teach him, he could remind him. He could find Riccardo even through Daniel. Not all was lost.

-

Daniel backed Armand into the wall of his apartment, the one with the sky on the ceiling. Armand was hungry but Daniel was aching for him. He could feel it in the way he chased after his lips or his skin, always wanting more, always searching. Armand let Daniel lead him through the familiar streets, the boy charming him with the promise of drugs inhabiting the back of his mind. A poor substitute for ecstasy, Armand thought.

He appeared to be struggling more and more in finding his friend inside this stranger but he had to admit the boy had some fascinating qualities himself. Daniel’s hands sneaked under his shirt, so warm and alive they were across his deadly cold skin, and yes, it felt nice to be touched and to be wanted. His mind raced through the countless sensations attacking him and it had been a long time since he felt desire pour over his soul and body. Consumed, yes, that was the word. Those were the days of worshipping, the days of pleasure, the days of carelessness. A family, a lover and a best friend. Riccardo and the boys, they- Riccardo. No, he had lost this way. The boy was distracting him, this wasn’t right.

No. No. No. He had to do it again. He shall fix it. No, no, no. He will.

It took him a while to realize Daniel had ceased his movements, the passion had died down. Now the boy’s hands were on Armand’s face, gently cupping his cheeks and soothingly caressing them. He must have been muttering under his breath.

“Are you okay? Do you want to stop?” Such a strange question, so unfamiliar it sounded. The moon creeping through the window was illuminating Daniel’s eyes. Armand wanted to drown in their concern, so genuine it seemed. They could have been Riccardo’s eyes, they shared the same calm before the storm.

“No. No-” No point, he had meant to say but he was chocking on the words. Armand held on to Daniel’s waist and he could picture him. A beautiful boy in his arms, he had him. But he was slipping away, his face no longer as clear in his memory but faded in time. Treacherous time, vicious its wrath on Armand. Inescapable. He wanted to cry, he wanted Riccardo to take him back to Venice. No, somewhere better. He wanted to be somebody else. But again, he was back in the room and again his dear friend was reaching out to him through the haze of smoke. He could have taken his hand. Why didn’t he follow him? But Amadeo was spared and he kept on enduring. He didn’t want to endure any longer.

“Hey man, I don’t know if I am too drunk but you’re bleeding from your eyes.” He was drowning, chocking on his blood. The boy’s voice appeared as a lifeline to Armand then and he quickly grabbed it to pull himself out of the abyss.

“I am sorry. I am so sorry-“ Armand tried to turn away, to hide his shame. Perhaps it was an attempt to apologize to his friend but he wasn’t there, most likely never had been. Daniel instead was the one who wiped away his tears and comforted him.

“Shush. It’s okay.” Daniel interrupted his mumbling and led him to the couch slowly as if not to break him. A fragile thing he had become, overcome by his feelings of years. Hope was a foul’s game and yet Armand fell for it. He realised with horror that he knew more things about the stranger in front of him than he remembered about his dear friend.

Daniel had kneeled in front of him, watching him carefully from his direct line of sight and he looked now a great deal soberer than Armand had found him at the club. The boy placed his palm on the vampire’s outer thigh and squeezed sympathetically.

“Thank you.” Armand said. Lord, he sounded small. Daniel shrugged and sat next to him on the couch after he made sure he was in a better state.

“Happens to the best of us.” The ghost of a smile lingered on Armand’s lips but too many ghosts were attached to him for centuries and he wasn’t ever able to clean them off. Every sinister or loving touch, every dark thought he suppressed in the safety of his dark coffin always came back to haunt him eventually.

“Do you know what’s it like to think of everything that could have been and regret every choice, despise every outcome?” Armand felt Daniel’s eyes on him as he spoke, focused and blazing.

“What if my skin had been a shade too dark, my face wrinkled, my nose crooked? What if my eyes were an abnormal blue and my body undesirable? Would I have not been picked? If I had, was there any chance I tasted the flames or drowned in the sea, let death claim me finally? Would it feel like a warm hug instead of this cold emptiness that’s filling up my insides? This sick need of taking and taking until there is nothing left, until you have no soul. Until you look in the mirror and there are only pieces of people in the shape of you, everything that turned you into this monster but nothing resembling the human. A black hole.” He looked over to the boy and he was visibly confused but he nodded his head for him to continue. Such intrigue, such compassion. Armand could have laughed. An eager black hole, he thought. He faced the windowsill far in front of him, lost in his head, lost in his past.

“And again I find myself in Delhi. My legs too short to outrun the slavers, my body too weak to fight them off, to prevent them from-“ He closed his eyes in pain and disgust. He let out a surrendering breath. A slight touch on his hand, afraid but present. It was enough. He opened them back up.

“A young man and not a cherub. A person and not a muse. Arun and not Amadeo. Broken and irredeemable. Alive and forgettable.” The sky outside was painted a light pink, the clouds making it look like a sweet candy. He could savour this moment but he was still stuck in this body. A victim to his own choices amongst other things.

“And yet you are here.” Daniel whispered and Armand turned to face him. His eyes were glistening with tears threatening to fall and he suddenly looked a lot younger than he was. “There’s gotta be a reason for that.” The boy suggested and Armand offered him a grateful smile. A kind soul, he thought, that must’ve been it. The vampire caressed the boy’s cheek softy and he leaned into his touch.

“A rare flame.” Armand said and the boy frowned slightly. He hoped his amber eyes were welcoming then, soothing.

“Don’t ever lose it, Daniel.” Armand waited for the little chuckle and when he heard it, he brought him closer and kissed his lips softly. No consuming hunger left in him to chase after for now. A still moment, Daniel’s eyes closed in expectation. Armand leaned towards the boy’s ear in the peaceful silence and whispered just so only he could hear:

“Sleep now, beautiful boy. Let it all be a dream.” Daniel’s body went limp in his arms and Armand carried him and laid him down comfortably on his bed. In the distance, the sun was peaking through the horizon, a dangerous game it liked to play with Armand, always temping him to give up. It was the first sunrise he had seen in a long while, something to remember in the maze of his mind.

A new day, a new boy but the same old game. He thought he knew the rules by now.

He thought he could even win for once.

-

The journey continued smoothly as the path was clear. They left the Shadow Keep early in the morning and by the afternoon they had passed Castle Ensis, which was Lady Rellana’s main post. As the day went by, Messmer and his people started to slowly approach the south side of the Gravesite Plain. And the closer they were getting, the more anxious Messmer felt. His mind was filled with conflicting thoughts and emotions. On one hand, the possibility of seeing his mother excited him. Despite her prolonged absence and lack of communication, he still loved her dearly. Marika not only raised him all by herself, but she was also the one who sealed the abyssal serpent away to prevent it from overtaking Messmer’s body and soul. In his eyes, this was the biggest manifestation of her love and one of the reasons why he wouldn’t give up on her. On the other hand, the news that his mother was back was too good to be true, and Messmer was never an optimistic person. Besides, it still didn’t make sense why Marika would choose an abandoned hut in the middle of nowhere to make her return. And what was the deal with the blood fiends? Those creatures didn’t care for the Greater Will or the Golden Order. The whole situation was extremely odd, raising a lot of questions without giving any clear answers.

“You seem rather preoccupied, my friend.” The booming voice of Commander Gaius snapped Messmer back into reality.

“I’m not sure what to expect when we arrive at that place. I’ve been thinking a lot about this whole ordeal but I cannot think of any reasonable explanation as to why my mother would return so suddenly. It just doesn’t make any sense”, replied Messmer absent-mindedly.

”I agree with you. The involvement of the blood fiends seems rather peculiar as well. They are known for worshiping the Formless Mother who is an Outer God. And since there is no connection to the Queen’s Holy Order, my fear is that this is some sort of trap to get you out of the Keep. You must be careful, my friend.”

“Well, if this is indeed a trap, we shall find out soon enough. Looks like we’re nearing the Prospect Town, and according to the reports the hut is somewhere nearby.”

The group continued their journey along the snaky cliffside path southeast of Belurat. The road was narrow and rocky, making the pass extremely dangerous. Soon enough they reached the ruins of the town where a tribe of blood fiends had been living for centuries. The first thing that struck Messmer was the absolute silence: all he could hear was the howling wind. Normally, this place would be swarmed by the fiends; however, now it was completely deserted with no sign of the monsters. There was something eerie about this whole situation, and Messmer’s people got visibly nervous while they were passing through the town. However, nothing could have prepared them for what they were about to see next.

All around the hut, many bodies were lying on the ground: some of them were blood fiends and others were of his soldiers. One would think that a battle had taken place here, yet there were no signs of struggle and not a single drop of blood. At first, Messmer thought they were all dead but upon closer look, it turned out they were simply asleep. Their slumber was so unusually deep that any attempts to wake them up were unsuccessful. The whole situation around the mysterious woman was getting weirder and weirder.

“My lord, we’re waiting for your command”, said one of the Fire Knights to Messmer.

Messmer took a deep breath. “Take two soldiers with you and get to the hut. Get that woman out of there. I have many questions for her that need answers”, he ordered. The Fire Knight nodded and called over some of the foot soldiers to follow him. The distance between Messmer’s envoy and the hut was short, yet it felt like an eternity for them to reach the door. The Fire Knight knocked on the door and barked out the order: “We’re here on behalf of Sir Messmer the Impaler. We know you’re inside. Any resistance shall be met with force. Come out voluntarily and you shall be spared.”

As soon as he finished talking, the door slightly opened and a tiny cloud of purple mist left through the opening, enveloping the knight and the soldiers. Everyone was watching with tension as the group fell to the ground in a matter of seconds…and fell asleep. It became obvious that whoever was hiding in the shack had some sort of power to inflict sleep on others and was responsible for putting the blood fiends and scouts into slumber. This was the first sign that the woman in the hut was definitely not Marika as the latter was never known to have similar abilities.

The remaining group stood in silence unsure of what to do next. No one dared to move closer to the shack; instead, all the attention was on Messmer - his men were waiting for his instruction. Meanwhile, Messmer was weighing his options: he could turn back and forget about everything that happened or he could burn this hut from afar, killing this mysterious woman. There was also another option: he could confront the imposter and demand answers: who is she? Is she related to his mother? Why was she here? In truth, the circumstances around the woman made him curious to the point that he wanted to talk to her. Perhaps she knew something about Marika or maybe she was her messenger or even an avatar. There had to be some explanation as to why she looked like Marika, Messmer thought.

”My lord, do you have any orders for us?”, a voice brought Messmer back out of his thoughts.

“No, I shall face this imposter myself.”, responded Messmer with confidence. Everyone looked at him in disbelief, but no one dared to question his decision. “I would like to speak to her personally and no one shall interfere”, he added briefly. Gaius gave Messmer a concerned look as he knew how vulnerable his friend was about the subject of his mother. He didn’t say anything, yet he understood why Messmer wanted to deal with the imposter himself. “We will stand at the ready my Lord in case something happens.”, he finally said. Messmer nodded appreciatively and headed to the hut.

As Messmer was walking up to the door, his heart was pounding. The possibility of getting answers about his mother was exhilarating and frightening at the same time. Once he reached the door, it took him a moment to collect his thoughts. Then, he spoke loudly so the person in the hut could hear him: “My name is Messmer the Impaler. I came here in peace and I only wish to speak with you. No harm shall be inflicted upon you. You have my word.”, he promised.