#tsarobul

Did I just write an update? Yes I did. WARNING: CONTAINS DESCRIPTION OF TORTURE. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. 

The words didn’t register. He barely had a moment to process their weight or meaning before a sharp pain exploded from his back. His felt the skin slice and burn with agony as the whip tore open the skin. A loud scream filled the dark air, and Dimitrov buried his body into the splintered wood to try and escape the terrible ache.

A silence fell amongst the crowed. It hung over their heads like a knife, and to break it would be to defy God himself. The only sound that emanated was the sudden wailing of Dimitrov, who never before had ever experienced such tortures. The wound was opened and already bleeding, which only promised more pain to the Bulgarian, who was already fumbling with apologies and pleads before a second strike was thrown against his back.

The thing must have been barbed, Dimitrov would later think, as the second lashing buried right into the first one, slashing at already tender skin. Dimitrov screamed out again, his fists tight around the rope that bound him as he tried to escape, his body doing anything now to get away from the pain. His wants be damned, his needs be damned, he wanted far away from this torture.

“Please!” He begged the town. He looked at no one, yet his eyes met everyone’s as he scanned for weeping eyes across the faces he loved. But his head fell forward as another crack sounded, and his sobs became unintelligible.

Blood poured from his wound slow and thick. It soaked it the rags he had been given to wear, and soon the pale brown would be mistaken for a dark red. It was warm against his unharmed back. Surely, the whip would be sloshing his blood around by now, coating whatever may be in his range. Perhaps it was the priest, whose eyes went well with the color. Dimitrov was reminded of his nightmare for a moment, and he wondered if the monster had been Father Slavkov after all.

Another crack, another scream. No one spoke a word. A few onlookers had began to weep as well, though whether it was for Dimitrov, or for the gruesome sight was anyone’s guess, and it would not be revealed as all remained motionless at the torture of the one the once thought of as a hero. If Dimitrov were to scan the crowd for his fiance, she would not be found. Eliza hid away, unable to stand the sight. Despite her willingness to convince Dimitrov to accept this, she could not bear to see the man like this. She still loved him. But she loved her town equally as much.

As for Sadik, Dimitrov never would have found him. He was in his home, heavily drinking. The Bulgarian would never learn that the sound of his screams could be heard across the town, where Sadik found himself drunk and sobbing.

Another slash, another cry. Dimitrov thought that surely, this was close to being over, despite having only begun. His body was hot, sweat mixed with blood, stinging his open wounds. His body was already limp, unable to handle such torture. One more, words fell from his mouth. Most of them were sorry, some were stop. No one would listen though. Dimitrov knew, this is where he would die. Condemned and tortured, just as he should have died all those years ago. He had only avoided what was obviously meant to be his fate. He felt his knees give out, and he fell to the ground, causing the whip that had been coming down to strike against the wood right above his head, barely missing it.

“That will not count towards your total, Alexi.” Father Slavkov called out to him, but it went unnoticed and unanswered as Dimitrov’s chest rose and fell hard. His chest was burning with the near intensity of his back, and he was sure that he was then going to die of a heart attack before the pain could get to him. He thought it a kind mercy of fate.

His vision grew dark. He wondered if Eliza would pay for his burial, or if she would reject him for dying. She wouldn’t be a widow, at least. And Sadik technically wouldn’t be losing a son either. In fact, the more Dimitrov thought, the more he realized that perhaps, he wouldn’t be as missed as he might have thought. He obviously wasn’t as loved as he had thought, the love he had worked so hard to earn. Gone, all in a moment.

He could feel consciousness falling from him, both from pain and from his high fever, which was worse. He coughed and cried, limply hugging the pole. His eyes closed, and he could hear the world fading fast. He was ready to give up.

A crack filled the air, and was then met with horrifying gasps. Dimitrov did not understand.

No pain had fallen upon him.

His eyes opened weakly, but all he saw was the petrified faces of the town staring at something behind him, just before loud shrieking filled the air. Dimitrov tried to look over, but was unable to. What he did see was people scampering about. Screamed filled the air. Dimitrov tried to stand up, bit only managed to get up slightly before falling back forward, gasping at the effort. He could hear a commotion going on behind him. He didn’t know if he should fear this new development, but the rest from the beatings were enough to make him dizzy once more, though he fought to stay awake.

There was a violent cry from behind him, before a loud thud was heard Dimitrov weakly pulled against the ropes, trying to pull free. He looked up, hoping someone would stop and free him, but everyone simply ran in their panics, trying to find refuge.

However, one person did stand out to him. Flying past was Father Slavkov, his robes dragging behind him as he tried to run to safety, the church, where most people would try and hide. He whipped around to look back at the threat, before his eyes fell on Dimitrov. Father Slavkov’s eyes finally gave way to emotion, fear, before they mutated into something dark and sinister, that left Dimitrov cold despite his fever.

“This is what you want!” The priest cried, looking towards the being behind Dimitrov, his longer fingers pointing at him, condemning him to the beast. The fear remained in the Father’s eyes, but they were more clear than anything Dimitrov had witnessed over the course of these events. When he seemingly got what he wanted, Father Slavkov quickly spun around and hurried back towards the church. The middle of town had cleared out by now, Dimitrov only desperately trying to pull away. Despite the sudden quiet, he could feel he wasn’t alone. His whole body burned with pain and fear as footsteps walked towards him. Dimitrov gave up. He knew today would be the day he died. He laid his head against the wooden pole and cried. He deserved this, he reasoned. Perhaps he really had brought a curse upon this town.  

“Just get on with it this time.” Dimitrov yelled. The walking stopped, and  Dimitrov was afraid to look up. He hugged the pole tightly, before a calming sense washed over him, suddenly and unexpectedly.

Dimitrov knew he ought to fear this sudden change in feeling. He knew it probably meant something dangerous, and the urge to look up would mostly likely seal his fate. His eyes burned to see though. He lifted his head. Tears stilled stained his cheeks, and sweat made his hair stick to his face. As his green eyes opened, and looked at what stood above him, he was met with scarlet red eyes that glowed beneath a beautiful mask, with painted blue detail. He couldn’t see it, but he swore he saw a smile form on the being’s face.

“What do you mean you left a mark behind?”

I was being lifted by my collar, by a being much stronger than I could ever be. He wears a metal mask, hiding everything except grey eyes that resemble fog. I squirm, but my mask falls. I see it hit the ground, my ginger hair falling down to my shoulders.

I’m not a ginger.

My eyes fixate once more on the person in front of me. He radiates a power I can’t begin to imagine. His grip tightens. I can feel myself sweat, I had fucked up, but what had I done? Left my mark behind?

“You worthless, pig loving scum.” The person...no, that isn’t right. That thing says, before throwing me to the ground. I land with a thud. My senses are heightened, I want to fight back, but something stops me, I don’t know what.

“It was one, it was insignificant!” I yell, but I don’t control my own tongue. The voice that falls from my mouth isn’t heavy like my own.

“It was a mistake, and our clan doesn’t make mistakes.” The shadow above me said. It took a step closer, and I tense up. I instinctively grab my chest, protecting something.

“You can’t take him away from me!” I yelled, who is him?

“No, but I sure as hell can make you pay for it.” The menacing voice says. I begin scramble to my feet. I sense my own strength. I know I could take him if I wanted, but I still do nothing. I am determined not to fight for myself. I will defend, but not attack.

I see other figures begin to surround me. I spin around, looking for an escape, but I don’t see any. I grip my shirt above my chest tighter, refusing to let it show. I am panic stricken now. The figures grow closer.

“You think we wouldn’t figure out?” I whip back around to the one with the metal mask. He moves his hand up to it, going to remove it. I know this to be bad, but I don’t know why. I shake my head, before closing my eyes.

“I couldn’t, the boy, he was different, he was-”

“HUMAN.” The thing boasts, and I look up, and I see his face. My eyes grow wide with shock. Fangs stand prominent against his bloodied, smirking face. He senses my fear.

“Kill him! He has betrayed our clan, and his race. Make sure he pays for it rightly.” The thing says, before turning away. There’s a beat, before a swarm of monsters descend on me.

Dimitrov shot up from where he was laying, gasping for breath, flailing his arms like a madman. He almosts screams, but feels the need for oxygen is a much more pressing matter. He was being attacked, he needed to get away.

“Dimitrov!” Eliza yells, jumping up from her seat beside the bed. Instinctively, she approaches the bed, cautious, seeing Dimitrov reacting to his nightmare.

“Dimitrov! You’re okay!” She yells. Dimitrov doesn’t respond at first, but he is no longer fighting against nothing. He was covering his head, as if blocking out something.

Eliza carefully reaches over, resting a soft hand on the other’s leg. That seems to pull Dimitrov from his dream. He flinches, but looks up, and is met with the sweet green eyes of his worried fiance.

“You have a fever Dimitrov, probably from the stress.” She carefully says, taking it slowly, unsure if he was aware of where he was, or that he was no longer in his dream. Dimitrov looked away. He didn’t feel sick, though he certainly didn’t remember going to bed. How had he gotten there anyways? And what was with that crazy dream??

A small knock came from the door. Both heads turned towards it. Dimitrov was momentarily surprised to see the town doctor come in, followed by Father Slavkov. The sight of the man’s grim brought back a wave of memories, and the Bulgarian began to lurch, leaning over the bed, but nothing coming out. Elizabeta jumped back, but the doctor hurried over.

“Don’t throw up at the sight of me, that isn’t very courteous.” The man said, which seemed to be an attempt at a joke. Dimitrov wasn’t sure. The whole town was supposed to hate him, so surely the doctor would too. Hell, especially the doctor. Dimitrov leaned back against the bed, his thoughts racing with confusion, anger, and fear. Adrenaline still coursed through his body. He probably could have ran a marathon right then and there, if he didn’t feel like he was going to throw up because of it.

“Medicine doesn’t work without the lord’s help, you know, Doctor Genov.” Father Slavkov stated flatly. The doctor nodded, but still went about feeling Dimitrov’s forehead anyways.

“Yes Father, I know. But I believe that God would allow the man a chance to be at full health before trial.” The man said, making Dimitrov look up in concern.

“Trial? I’m going on trial?” He asked. He heard Eliza stifle a noise, and wondered if it was meant to be of fear, or of anger. He wanted to believe the latter.

“You have already been tried, and you are going to be punished.” The priest explained, making the doctor frown.

“Father, I don’t know if that’s wise. His fever is very high, I’m surprised he’s awake at all.” He explained, before shaking his head. The doctor was younger than the priest, but older than Dimitrov. He had never had to see Genov before, so he didn’t know him very well. He simply recognized him by his thin brown hair, short stature, and the terrible misfortune of having to sport the churches robes, since the Doctor was being funded by the church.

Which is why Dimitrov was a bit confused. It almost seemed like Doctor Genov was trying to protect him.  

Father Slavkov was unmoved though, and approached the bed. Instinctively, Dimitrov tensed up. The monster descends up me.

Dimitrov meets the priest’s eyes. They are not grey, but they hold the same anger in them. Slavkov did not need a mask, the rest of his face gave away nothing.

“It doesn’t matter if he be sick, or healthy. He has to be punished. It is the only way to rid him of his evil.”

Dimitrov shakes his head, his heart beginning to race. He grabs it, just like in the dream, though he isn’t sure why.

“I haven’t done anything wrong!” He argues. “How could I have known about the attacks? If I had been here, I would have done anything to stop them!” He argued, and he would have. Dimitrov wasn’t known as a fighter, but had he been home, had the attacks happened while he was close, he would have faced them. He would have risked his life for this whole town, his home.

“Whether that is true or not, you have brought evil in this town. You were the only one alive, you were the one who brought their curse on this town.” He was calm. How could he be so calm? Slavkov was talking about Dimitrov’s life, his pains. And he thought he should be punished for it?

Dimitrov turned towards Elizabeta.” Eliza, you have to tell them.” He pleaded. He knew she was on the priest’s goodside. He started to get out of the bed, though his head hurt, but the doctor swiftly tried to sit him back down.

“Sir, you’re fever.” The doctor insisted, but Dimitrov pushed him away. He looked towards Elizabeta. She looked torn. How could she be torn?!

“I don’t want you hurt.” She said, quietly. “But I don’t want you to be expelled from the town.” She said, quickly grabbing his hand. Dimitrov allowed it, she provided him so much comfort, but he was growing more and more hurt.

“And, Dimitrov, the church brings this community a sense of security, and if the church says we need to cleanse you…” She trailed off. Dimitrov could feel his world slipping out from underneath him. He felt his head grow heavy again, but this was a different kind of pain. Before he had felt heavy, but this time his mind felt clearer than ever. With a look of disbelief, Dimitrov pulled his hand out of Elizabeta’s, and stared at her.

“You choose the town’s feelings..over me…” It wasn’t a question. Elizabeta was quick to defend herself.

“All those people expect something, Dimitrov!” She defended. Just like him, Eliza was always quick to defend herself. She thought in her heart it was the right thing to do. She probably really loved Dimitrov. But she couldn’t put her heart over the whole population of the town. If he could just take the punishment, then everything could go back to normal.

Dimitrov looked down, before looking back towards the priest and the doctor. Genov looked concerned, but too fearful to speak up. But Slavkov. Dimitrov wondered if he only imagined the slight smirk on his face, or if he was actually pleased to see the Bulgarian fall apart.

He sat back on the bed. No one was going to listen to him. They were all taking the town’s side, over his. He stared at his hands. Had he really cursed the town? Was God really punishing him? Hadn’t god punished him enough? Wasn’t it God who had stripped everything away from him? Why would God do this again?

“Does Sadik agree?” He asked to anyone who would tell him. The silence hung in the air, before Eliza spoke up.

“He...Wants you to stay too. If you don’t do what the church asks, you’ll be an outcast. No one will want you here…” She explained. Dimitrov almost didn’t care about that. Why would he want to stay in a town that hated him? But then he remembered all the good he did for them. He had been a hero to them. And somehow, everything was falling apart.

Dimitrov looked up again. He could run away. He could voluntarily leave the town, and just never look back. There had to be a town around here in need of a good merchant. Hell, probably one that would WANT his vampire fangs. But he loved this town. He loved it’s people. He looked at Elizabeta. He loved her. He loved Sadik. How could he leave them behind?

“Perhaps if he complies, God would be willing to lessen the pain he must receive to regain redemption?” The doctor suggested, but the word pain rang in Dimitrov’s ear like a loud drum. What exactly was he being condemned to do?

Slavkov nodded once, apparently having already considered this. “Yes, our God is one of mercy. Dimitrov, the town is looking forward towards the expelling of satan in you. They all hope that you will choose the godly way.” He explained, before standing straighter, taking away any remaining power Dimitrov might have had over himself.

“If you work with us, then mercy will be shown.” He said. A flash of a bloodied mouth crosses over the priest's face, but quickly disappears.

Dimitrov loved this town. He hated what they were doing to him, but he needed their love. He needed to be a part of something. He needed to be a fiance. He needed to be a son. He needed to be a neighbor. This town hated him, but that did not mean they wouldn’t love him again. Dimitrov nods.

“What do I have to do?”

---

The ropes tied against his wrists rubs his skin raw as he as drug along towards the city square. The man leading him is the man who had delivered Dimitrov’s black eye, so he shows no mercy as he pulls him again, even though Dimitrov still feels weak from his fever.

A crowd has gathered around, one similar to the ones that would crowd around his stand, aweing at whatever new item he had brought that day. Their eyes lit up with wonder and excitement.

When Dimitrov looks around, he sees nothing but anger.

He scans the crowd for Eliza. She stands with some of the other women. None of them speak to her. She must have been shunned by his actions as well, as if sin was contagious. A brief and heartless thought crosses over Dimitrov’s mind, that she is only encouraging this so that she can be well respected again, but he immediately drops it. He was already heartbroken enough as it is.

Next he looks for Sadik. He had been told he left the house sometime after he had carried Dimitrov to his bed, staying only long enough for him, Elizabeta, and the priest could talk. They had discussed what to do with him. They had agreed to this torture. He doesn’t find him in the crowd.

Dimitrov is suddenly jerked against a wooden pole in the middle of the square. He gasps for air, the wind nearly knocked out of him. He is tied against the pole, his bare stomach rubbing against the splintered wood. He had been stripped to nothing but cloths to humble him, but it was pure humiliation, and he knew it.

He doesn’t want this, but he needs more than anything to be accepted. He cannot be alone. He closes his eyes when he hears Father Slavkov shout, grabbing the crowd’s attention.

“Dimitrov Alexi has been found by god to be the reason this town has been cursed!” He yells out, making the crowd begin to yell at Dimitrov, insulting him, condemning him. He couldn’t believe that only hours ago, they had all been anticipating his arrival home. Had greeted him with open arms. And now, he was being called a demon.

“To redeem his soul, God has planned this as his cleanser.” The crowd cheers at something. Dimitrov can already feel himself shaking.

He doesn’t want to be alone. He would rather be amongst those who hate him than to be alone again.

“I’m sorry!” Dimitrov yells, but he doubts anyone hears him over the crowds cheers as someone approaches Dimitrov from behind. He hears the priest once more. He looks up. The cloud are a sinister grey, and a low rumble shakes the earth. He could feel the rain about to fall. He starts to believe there really is a God. He feels tears sting his eyes.

Eliza gently dabbed a wrung out cloth against her fiance’s head. He sat back in his own home, still dazed and confused. No one had explained anything to him still. And while Eliza had managed to convince the priest to allow him to leave to get medical attention, the numbness of why his neighbors would turn on him ate at his soul more than anything that man could have dished out.

When Eliza as done, Dimitov’s face was cleared of his blood. His nose has been snapped back into place, courtesy of Sadik, who had insisted it wouldn’t hurt too much, but the man was a lying bastard. His left eye was bruised, though it was clear that both would eventually turn black from the beating, as well as having a swollen cheek and knot on his head. His dark hair clung to his skin, worry perspiring and making him feel ill.

“I don’t understand…” The Bulgarian mumbled, turning to look up at Sadik, who had been hovering over them as Eliza tended his wounds. Both of them had remained quiet, much to DImitrov’s irritation. He had repeated that phrase several times now, and still no one bothered to answer him, as if their mouths had been sewn together in secrecy. But he had to know, what had he done to offend his home like this? So much as to fear and curse him?

Eliza sighed. She had sighed a few times now, and frankly, Dimitrov was growing tired of their sympathy. He wasn’t at fault for anything he had done. So he believed, anyways. Clearly the rest of the town did not agree with that though.

Finally, Sadik readjusted himself, leaning against a wall and crossing his arms. He too sighed, before deciding to uncross his arms and run a hand through his deep brown hair, as if couldn’t decide how to stand, proving that he was at unease of explaining what the hell had happened out there.

“Dimitrov, a lot has happened since you’ve been gone.” The man started, to which the younger man laughed, though clearly not from humor.

“Obviously, the whole town has turned against me. What? Has everyone contracted hysteria?” He asked, before finally pulling away from Elizabeta, who was holding his arm gently. He wasn’t asking for her to hold his hand through this, he wanted to know the truth.

Silence fell among them again, but Dimitrov was growing frustrated.

“Just fucking tell me, you finicky old man!” He commanded, slamming his hand on the chair he was sitting in. Dimitrov was usually calm and collected. He wasn’t one to have outbursts of rage. He tended to think before his actions, but now he wanted answers, and the fact that no one was telling him was only making him more anxious. What had happened since he was gone?!

Sadik normally would snap back at such language towards him, even coming from his adopted boy, who would usually get a quick smack in the head for talking to him in such a way. But Sadik knew that his anger was warranted, and God he wished he could just come outright and say it, but it was hard. It was hard knowing what DImitrov had went through, it was hard admitting what the whole town feared, a repeat of the past.

“God damn it Sadik, if you won’t tell him then I will.” Eliza said, her own patience wearing thin. She hated seeing Dimitrov like this, anxious and scared. Because despite his rage, despite his words, she could see it in him. Felt in the way he tensed up before pulling away. She knew her fiance was strong, but she also knew when he was weak, and right now, he seemed smaller than ever, even as his eyes screamed anger, and his fists turned white.

“The village was attacked.” She said, finally turning to DImitrov, whose expression turned from rage, to a distraught confusion, as if he wasn’t quite processing what he was hearing.

“By who? Serbs? Romanians? I would think this town far enough from the borders.” He said, before beginning to wonder if that was what they had meant, that his venturing towards such borders, is what had cursed the town. But had the town been raided by a foreign power, especially amidst such tension between the neighboring nations, he would have expected to be chased out of town even before stepping in it. He couldn’t imagine which outcome might have been worse.

But Eliza was shaking her head  before he could question further, and tenser Dimitrov grew, because as he thought more about the town’s reaction, the harder realization was falling on him, weighing a thousand pounds and falling at an unheard of speed.

“They saw those teeth, they reacted in fear. We know you couldn’t have known. But…” Sadik trailed off, as if even he wasn’t convinced this wasn’t Dimitrov’s fault, which struck the fear out of the man’s body, and replaced it with a defensive anger.

“But I didn’t even kill any vampires! I bought these from a thief in Nikopol!” He confessed, before pulling out the teeth from where he had stashed them in his pocket. Both Elizabeta and Sadik straightened up at the sight of them, encouraging Dimitrov to defend himself more. “And...And why would I even CONSIDER bringing them here? Everyone knows about me! They all know, why would they think-”

“Don’t play stupid kid, you know exactly why.” Sadik said, his brutal honestly not out of character for him, but completely uncalled for in the situation. DImitrov felt his face fall. As uncalled for as it was, he knew exactly what Sadik was saying. Everyone knew his story. He was the only one who survived a vampire attack. He was the only living one after the disgusting slaughter of his family and neighbors. The town lacked the complete details, but they knew he was the lone one.

Maybe he had cursed the town.

He gently touched his cheek, before suddenly standing up. “I need to fix this, I need to show them I didn’t do anything.” He said. Eliza rose beside him, gently grabbing his arm again.

“Father Slavkov says he is speaking with God, Dimitrov, the people will be waiting for his say, not yours.” She explained.

“Why his say? I’M the one who knows the truth, don’t they care?” He asked, before there was a knock on the door, making all heads turn towards it, unfortunately giving Dimitrov a swift headache, and causing him to sit back down. He held his head, his ache coming from both the movement, and the fact that the whole town that once looked up to him, could turn on him in an instant, all based on the words of a man Dimitrov knew did not like him.

Sadik approached the door, anticipating another angry neighbor, looking to see the man who cursed their home. When he finally opened it though, he was met with the stoic ace of the pastor, Slavkov. His grey black hair was similar in color to Dimitrov’s, but was cut a bit longer, and thicker. His robes barely scraped the ground as he stood. His holiness radiated. He struck fear in people just as much as God was supposed to. Sadik didn’t speak, instead waiting for him to make the first move.

“Dimitrov Alexi.” The man spoke, his voice heavy, as if he was speaking from the back of his throat. Dimitrov looked up with all the slowness of a heavy bolder sitting on his head, after all, it was how he felt.

“Sir, you don’t really believe I cursed my home, do you?” He asked, drained from anger and defense. He was tired. He wanted to be relieved of this burden. He wouldn’t admit it to himself, but the weight had been weighing on him the moment he decided to ignore his past and take claim of the vampire teeth. Bringing them with him, in a way, was meant to take back control of his life. He no longer had to be haunted by his past. He could move forward. That was why he was here, in this little city, full of his friends, surrounded by his loved ones. He wasn’t meant to be a survivor, he was meant to be hero. But all that now laid on the decision of a man who spoke to God. A man who was supposed to be a hero. And as little as Dimitrov would have cared for his opinion any other day, now more than ever, the man needed to hear that he was forgiven. By God or the town or whatever. He needed to be relieved.

The priest cleared his throat. Before taking a step forward.

“It is not my opinion that matters, but the Lord’s.” He started, and Dimitrov could feel himself shiver. If there was a God, surely had to show mercy to him.

“The Lord sees your heart, and you bear the markings of the devil, Dimitrov.” He said cooly, or maybe it was hot, because Dimitrov felt his skin burning. In fact, a lot of him felt hot. Did he have a fever? Was being this close to a saint making every sin in his body burn him from the insides? The corners of his vision was turning black. Maybe he was cursed.

“Whatever your intention had been, it does not matter now. Alexi, you are cursed. And I will see to it that you do not spite our home any further!”

When Dimitrov pulled out of the hug, an awkward silence fell amongst the three. As much as they wanted to talk and catch up, and as curious as Dimitrov was about what was going on in town, they all knew that soon, the young man would be bombarded with curious buyers and onlookers alike, and they needed to get shop set up for that moment.

“Alright, well, I won’t hold you any further, get back to work, this stand holds my legacy, you know.” Sadik said with a wink, before bowing in Elizabeta’s direction, who mockingly curtseyed back, before straightening up and snickering. The man was all too familiar with her informalities.

“Okay, Pops. But make sure you come check out what I got before it sells, I’m pretty proud.” He explained, standing a bit taller at the mention of his treasure. He didn’t have too many, so he knew that he could sell them for a high price, and they would still be gone within a few hours. Especially if a neighboring town finds out. Gossip could travel so fast now, considering the installment of paved roads. Dimitrov could already hear in his mind Sadik lecturing about a time before ‘fancy dirt cheats’ where he would have to make his own terrain, and follow the sun and his gut. He truly was an old man.

The sound of children abruptly pulled him from his thoughts again, and when he regained his senses, he noticed a group of boys, pushing and shoving their way towards his mart.

“Heh, better make sure they don’t steal anything.” Sadik warned, before sauntering off, most likely towards the closest group of ladies. He often imagined himself much younger than what he was. Dimitrov didn’t care, he never could learned his lesson after many times being ignored and rejected.

“You boys look a bit too young to be carrying anything of value on you.” Dimitrov finally said when an array of brown, blue, and green eyes looked at him with curiosity and pride. They all laughed at the statement, though it was still very true. One of the taller boys peered over the stand, hoping to catch a glimpse.

“My Father wanted to know if you had anything of worth.” The eldest commented, before glancing up at Dimitrov. The kid seemed to be putting up some sort of front, as if he wasn’t as excited as the rest of the town was to see what their best traveler had brought to them. Dimitrov shrugged a moment.

“Oh, I have the usual, some spices from Asia, some Turkish silk...Some…”Dimitrov leaned close to the group of children, all of their eyes growing wide in anticipation and excitement. Though Dimitrov hadn’t announced his new item to the town, an air hung around it, as if they already knew his newfound ite was going to be amazing. Of course, Dimitrov was known for bringing back items of luxury and wonder. Things the town had never even seen, though common outside of their little world, as Dimitrov came to find. But what he had now though, it was truly a treasure. And he was so generous as to sell such an item. Sometimes, he couldn’t even question why the town thought so highly of him, his kindness was practically one of a kin.

“-thing you will have to wait for my announcement for.” He ended the sentence, making the children moan and groan, hating have been left on such a cliffhanger. Both Eliza and Dimitrov chuckled, before noticing that a crowed was beginning to form, the locals rising from sleep to begin their day, to check out the market, or to simply stroll around.

“Which may be right now.” Elizabeta said, walking beside Dimitrov and gently pecking him on the cheek, knowing she would have to leave from behind the stand. Though both she and Dimitrov knew that her being back with him wouldn’t deter any potential buyers too much, some people just couldn’t stand the idea of a woman even helping running shop. Not that Dimitrov wanted her working had anyways. He was marrying her to be a provider. It was one of the perks of being so successful.

“Dimitrov! Welcome home!” A customer called out.

“Ah, Alexi is back.” Another voice sang out.

“What amazing timing,” Another said, in almost sarcasm. Dimitrov wondered what that was supposed to mean, but didn’t have time or the means to question it. The crowd was becoming denser, and he had a performance to put on.

“I haven’t even set up shop yet, everyone!” Dimitrov called out as Elizabeta walked away with a smile on her face, one that wished him all the luck in the world. He smiled back, before looking back out.

“But, since you’re all here, I guess I can’t disappoint.” He said, his lips forming a smirk at his own cockiness. Truly, what he had in his bag, though small in numbers, could be something that would change his career. But still he shares with his humble village, because they were his family. They looked up to him, they all wore stars in their eyes. The men, hoping to buy something of value and worth, to make themselves feel better. The women, flustered and amazed to have such a hero amongst them. Children, just excited to stare at something from far away from everything they know. Dimitrov even caught sight of the priest, adorning his robes. Even he was curious as to what the man may bring. Dimitrov surely could not dissapoint.

First, he pulled out spices, that of course got the women more excited than the men, though they would still buy the grains and herbs for the wives, and they would be pleased. He set them up as usual, before then beginning to pull out the silks and clothes he had, some looking of great value, though not hardly costing much to make.

The Bulgarian pulled out a few more things, but the villagers had seen such items time and time again. They were normal now, for as normal as such foreign things could be. Dimitrov was the only traveler who dared to venture so far. But that is not what their eyes were here for. They wanted the new, the unique, and Dimitrov had that.

Dimitrov stood taller, feeling confident that this next item would be his greatest find yet. It may not be all that useful, it wasn’t for cooking or for decoration. It was just something to own. Something to have. It’s value lied in its rarity. One would have to ask, how could someone get such a dangerous item? But Dimitrov had it, and he was not about to reveal his secrets.

The items were small enough to fit in his hand. He was careful not to hold too tightly though, before he faced the crowd.

“Friends, are you ready?” He asked, before a collective agreement rang out.  Dimitrov scanned the gathering. He could see Sadik, paying close attention. Confused curiosity wore on his face, and Dimitrov couldn’t wait to make the old man proud. He then spotted Elizabeta, who grinned in anticipation. Then his eyes landed on the priest. Dimitrov was not fond of the man, they seemed to hold differentiating ideas about the world, not that he would willingly voice they in such a religious town, but somehow the man seemed to know, Dimitrov was an oddity amongst them, though he tried so hard to keep that down. But perhaps now, he could see he only wanted good things for his home. He could have went to a richer town. Hell, a KING would be so lucky as to have these. Perhaps now the priest could see, he stood amongst them.

When Dimitrov smiled and opened his hands, it was the people in front, excluding the boys who had stood in the front, who gasped in horror at first, but Dimitrov hardly noticed, mistaking it as bewilderment.

“Teeth!” He cried out. “The teeth of not one, but three vampires! Their fangs ripped away from their bodies.” He explained, showing off the prized fangs. Though he hadn’t been the one to take out the teeth, it was still an amazing feat to find such things, to take from the very monsters that had cursed the world. The crowd began to back away. DImitrov grew confused.

“Such items could only be found by-” He started, but was soon cut off by the crowd’s collective mumbling.

“Oh God, why would he bring these here?!” He heard a woman’s voice. He didn’t understand.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, parents pulling their children away from the stand. Fangs were highly sought after, especially consider it meant that monsters had been slain. Of course, it hadn’t been Dimitrov who had killed the beasts, but just having these meant great bravery, didn’t it?

A couple of men began to approach the stand, anger wearing on their faces like a mask. Dimitrov took a step backwards, knowing the stand wasn’t protection of any sorts.

“You damned idiot!” One yelled as the crowd began to disperse, many people heading into their homes, some heading towards the church.

Dimitrov stood in dazed confusion. What was going on!?

One of the men jumped over the stand, and grabbed Dimitrov by the collar.  He recognized who the man was. He was someone who would always come by and buy silk, and would stay a few minutes so Dimitrov could catch up on his life. The man had a wife, and three sons. He was Dimitrov’s friend.

So why was he punching him in the face?

Dimitrov fell to the ground when he was let go. The man had gotten several blows in before someone had stopped him. Dimitrov looked up, his nose bloody and probably broken, seeing it was Sadik.

“Get off him.” He huffed. The man pulled back to deliver a blow to Sadik as well, but stopped when he saw the priest approaching, along with Elizabeta.

Dimitrov was still clutching the Vampire’s teeth, confusion and betrayal lying heavy on his heart. The man angrily walked away, as well as the fellows who had stalked on Dimitrov with him. The Bulgarian looked up at Sadik with hurt eyes, before looking back down at the fangs.

“Father, he couldn’t have known.” Elizabeta pleaded. Dimitrov glanced up at them. The man stared down at him with silent judgement.

“I don’t understand.” Dimitrov said, before tasting blood in his mouth. He had bit his tongue during the fight. His face felt numb, much like his mind. The Father didn’t seem to care for the state of his face.

“I had wondered why such things had begun happening in this town…”The man started, before looking towards Elizabeta.

“Now I believe God has given me his answer.” He said, before looking down at Dimitrov.

A look back to the moment that Sadik and Dimitrov met, and why they are so close now.

Author Note: Kind of graphic, but not enough to warrant a maturity content label. This chapter is a flashback, as well as a deeper look into Sadik and Dimitrov's relationship.

Two days. Two days Dimitrov sat in that closet, blood smeared on his face. He wondered which parent it belonged to. Whose last attempt at life covered his pale and soden cheeks. He knew no one could be alive, and he only hoped to die to. He had cried all his tears, now too dehydrated, and could not bring himself to move. He smelled of urine and sweat, and surely, he told himself, surely death would come soon.

That is what he thought, until, Sadik Adnan found him.

The Turkish man had rode into Bulgaria by mistake, somehow having been separated from his crew one drunken night. The clan had left from Turkey after reports of whole towns being killed off over night. The word had seemed to travel fast once people began learning about them. If it hadn’t been for merchants of thieves passing through these areas of death, no one would have ever known what had happened. No survivors had ever been found. Which is why, many merchants had decided to take advantage of such misfortunes, and had began robbing the towns, stealing from the dead, justifying it to themselves because surely no heir could be alive to claim them, and it would be a waste to let money and furniture and art to just rot with their dead owners.

Sadik had started out as such merchants, but as time went on, he grew disgusted by the act. It was clear that these people were not dying from plagues. They were being killed, and his people didn’t have the decency to honor these murders. They merely did what best benefited them. And Sadik had made that point clear.

Maybe he hadn’t been separated then. Maybe he had been abandoned.

Whatever the case, it landed the Turkish man in an untouched town. Unlooted and seemingly, unfound by anyone. Perhaps no one even knew that whatever little village he was in had fallen victim to the attacks. The thought made Sadik’s heart hurt, and though he knew it was a useless task, he set out to look for survivors. If luck was with him, maybe this attack had only happened recently, and there would be someone he could save. He wasn’t a medic, but perhaps he could get one, in a neighboring town.

But as he entered random homes, it became increasingly clear that there was no one to save. Blood smeared walls and floors. Bodies were beyond recognizable. Twice, Sadik vomited on his search. Once from the site of a poor woman, whose neck had been so vandalized, her head hung on only by a few fibers, and once more, when the stench of death became so bad, he could hardly breath.

He was about to leave. There was nothing but sadness in what remained of these empty homes. Soon, raiders would find the place, and loot from these poor people. He wished he could bury them all, they deserved it, but there was no way one man could do such a thing, and he didn’t think he could literally carry the weight of all of the victims in the town. He did whisper a small prayer, though he could have guessed that many of these people were not muslim. But whatever God existed, whether it was Yahweh, or Allah, he had to let these people into his Glory, Sadik thought. After enduring such sufferings as this. There couldn’t exist a God so merciless.

Sadik remounted his horse, intending to leave behind this place for good, he had no plans to tell anyone of what he saw here, in hopes to preserve this place for just a bit longer, allowing it to remain untouched by more evil, but something compelled him to search on. He still had no expectations of finding a living person, but he felt he had to bear the burden of each of their deaths. He had been the one to find them, after all.

When he made it to the next small house that on the outside could seem normal, the smell immediately surprised him. He had, as much as one human could, grown used to the stench of decay, but in this home, overpowering such decay was urine. A wave of emotions Sadik could not decipher in the moment washed over him, though one was definitely fear. Was someone alive?

“Някой тук?” He called out in Bulgarian, having learned the language,  before peering down at the two bodies that layed on the floor. One, a woman with dark brown hair whose green eyes were still open, she looked like she had died in the middle of a scream, mouth parted and all. Her throat was slashed, just like the others.  Next to her, a man with ebony hair. He almost seemed to be reaching out to her. They must have been married. They must have seen each other die. And they seemed so young too...It was a shame.

There had came no response, unsurprisingly. Sadik suspected that if he searched further in the house, he would see the remains of a dead child, probably young. He hadn’t seen any children, thankfully, never really venturing too far into the homes, and he wasn’t about to start now.

He gave one last final attempt to call out though, just because the smell was a shock to him. But most likely, the family’s son or daughter had probably soiled themselves before being killed.

“Някой тук?” He almost hoped no one would answer. He wasn’t sure he could handle seeing anyone alive in this mess. It would be cruel, to curse someone to life after so much death.

Which is why, when he heard a small boy’s voice respond with ‘тате’ Sadik felt his heart nearly break.

He rushed into the other room, searching for the source of the voice. Maybe he had imagined it, his brain desperate for a shining light in this pit of despair. The room he entered seemed to be that of a child’s. The bed was small, and a few toys were scattered about the room. Sadik finally noticed what seemed to be like a small closet. He approached it carefully, not wanting to scare the kid.

“Are you okay in there?” Sadik asked, continuing to speak to the boy in his native language, doubting he knew how to speak anything else. There was no response at first. Sadik realized that the boy probably had thought he was his father because he had spoken in Bulgarian though. He wished he hadn’t done that to the kid, hadn’t gotten his hopes up for a fleeting second, only to tear them back down.

A moment more passed, before Sadik decided to open the door. When he did, he was overwhelmed by the smell of living, and was momentarily thrown back. When he regained himself once more, he was able to get a good look at the boy.

Five. He couldn’t be older than that. And he had blood smeared on his face, had his attacked done that? He looked so stiff, he probably hadn’t moved since the attack. Once more, Sadik’s heart nearly broke, and he reached in towards the traumatized boy.

He didn’t resist, in fact, he was suddenly clinging to Sadik. The kid needed food, and water. And most of all, he needed away from all of this. Sadik gently soothed the boy, holding him close, knowing well that he had probably cried himself out a long time ago, and could merely whimper at the sight of another living being.

Sadik knew then, he would be staying in Bulgaria. This boy had nothing anymore, except the memory of his parents dying.

“Let’s get you taken care of.” Sadik whispered, though the child was unresponsive to anything. Sadik had so many questions. Who had attacked this town? Why was he spared? How long had he been here? So many things he didn’t know. But, as he carried the small thing back to horse, shielding his view of his parents as they passed them, he realized that he knew one thing.

Prologue: Forgotten Memories The following series is a RoBul Fanfiction. Dimitrov Alexi (Bulgaria) was the only survivor of his village after a vicious attack from a clan of Vampires. When found, he is brought to a new town, and raised as a merchant. However, when the town is suddenly taunted by vampires, fear arises, and Dimitrov's survival is put on trial. Vladimir (Romania) is a vampire, whose clan has abandoned him after learning about his impurity. On his own, he must find a way to try and survive, for a vampire without his clan is as good as dead. His only hope is to find the one who brought about this impurity. Both stand out to their kind, will being the alone be what bring them together? (Author's Note) This story is dedicated to derpyon on Instagram, who won my contest, and requested a RoBul Medieval fanafic! I have huge plans for this though, and honestly, I'm expecting it to be one of the best things I ever write. This first chapter is meant to be a look inside what happened in the past, hopefully this all make sense!

Screams pierce the sullen air. Many people have tried to run and escape their fate. Others stay hidden, under beds and in attics, hoping for a bit of luck, praying they won’t be found. But fear is strong in humans, and nothing can seem to mask such a scent.

 A young boy, nine years old, hides deep in the wooden frames of his closet. His ebony hair clings to his face with sweat. He can hear the cries of his parents. First his father, who begged to be spared. Man shouldn’t sound as hopeless as his father did. His mother, insisting the man was the only thing in her life. The boy knows it’s all a ploy, to try and protect him.

 “Oh God, where is God?” His mother prays, before a shriek escapes her mualed body. The boy covers his mouth, trying not to scream, or vomit, or both. He hears footsteps up the stairs. He almost hopes he’s found. He doubts his parents are alive. He wouldn’t be able to see them. Her brunette hair caked in blood, or his father’s throat still struggling for a final breath, if their corpses remain distinguishable at all. The boy thought it better to accept death than have to life in the misery, knowing his whole world laid at the bottom of the stairs, drenched in their last fight for life.

 The stairs creak louder, and the footsteps fall heavy. The boy repeats a prayed his mother taught him. He wished he had learned a final prayer, to secure his soul would go to heaven, but he doubts God could deny him, not after the torture he had endured. The boy can hear the monster enter his room. He can’t hide anymore, surely his scent has been followed. He closes his eyes, and hopes it will be painless, when he is abruptly found.

 A hand is placed over his mouth, preventing a scream. His green eyes grow wide with terror as he stares at the shape before him. He’s covered in blood, and face is hidden by a mask, painted with fine blue details that form an elegant, but fictional face. The only true feature he can see from the being is scarlet eyes that could have been beautiful, if not for the resemblance of blood they held.

 “You’ll be safe.” The vampire spoke, his voice sounding soft and far away. Dimitrov suddenly felt very tired, too tired to fight the fright that engulfed him. He nodded carefully, before shutting his eyes, laying his head against the wall.