The Devine Image
Disclaimer: Legacy of
Kain belongs to Edios and
Warning: it has to be said . . . .
This fic contains YAOI (GuyXGuy),
blood play and a lemon, if this offends or upsets you do not read this, it’s that
simple. Please also note it contains Possible
If you choose to avoid any of these things the back
button is right there for your use and I hope you find what you are looking
for. By continuing and reading you are acknowledging the above information and
accepting it.
Pairing: Vorador/Kain. Yaoi elements but
little emotion, maybe a hint of Vorador/Janos
Rating: NC-17
Part: One of five maybe more.
Set: Pre Blood omen two, why oh why
can’t I get out of this time frame *cry’s pitifully*
Authoress note: A
completely stand alone fic, not related to any of my others. I wanted to try
something a little different but I think this is turning out very similar to
all my others . . . bother. But I just really wanted to write it.
The name RAINER comes from my forgotten gods fic. But this fic is STAND ALONE.
Dedications: As always
this is dedicated to my wonderful beta reader, Odeena skywalker who without, this would be unreadable for most.
Also to Eiko the werewolf for
sharing my insane moments and my bizarre mood swings and not freaking out and
for passing her driving test, I’m so proud.
For all my
reviewers, who without I would have surely given up a long time
ago.
The Devine Image
Cruelty has a human heart
And Jealousy a human face
Terror the human form divine
And secrecy the human dress
The Devine image. William Blake. Songs of experience
Chapter Two
Promises are like bones. They’re made to be broken.
Vorador – The divine Image
{Vorador}
“They’re
up to something big this time, I can feel it,” Kathryn hissed. She was one of
the younger fledglings in the group, not the youngest, but sometimes she made
you wonder.
“It’s just
another rumour,” Daniel snapped at her. “When will you stop believing every
little scrap of information your ‘clientele’ throw at you?”
Vorador
rolled his eyes as he entered the main chamber. It was often that Daniel and
Kathryn would argue; in fact, it usually meant something was wrong when they
didn’t. Their relationship was a mirror image of the one he had occasionally
held with Kain: violent, bloody, and loud.
“How dare
you!” Kathryn yelled, her rather shrill voice getting louder.
When she
was human, Kathryn had been a prostitute. Even now, her name was still thrown
about in taverns. She had become something of an urban legend among the local
louts. She had kept her dress sense, or rather sense of undress when she had died,
and when hunting the streets her favourite tactic was to lure men in by playing
the role of a lady of loose morals. Yet despite this, she had automatically
believed that dying had made her a member of high society and demanded that she
be treated like such. Daniel’s accusation that she was still a lady of loose
morals was something he knew would make her scream.
“What’s
wrong, my sweet,” Daniel snapped, “business ‘been a bit off lately?” He recoiled sharply when she slapped him,
leaving a large red handprint across his face. Daniel growled loudly. Kathryn
squealed and ran, while the other gave chase. Vorador sighed; no doubt, in a
moment, there would be screaming of a rather different nature coming from their
direction.
He could
most definitely feel a headache coming on.
Collapsing
onto his chair in the centre of the room, he slowly began to rub his eyes,
hoping that the headache would be merciful and not come till later. Soft
fingers touched his temples and slowly began to rub them. He smiled in
gratitude and leaned back; Cyan was one of his more level-headed fledglings, despite
the fact she that was the youngest. But then again, her sense of responsibility
was well-founded.
When she
was young, Cyan’s mother had died from illness and her father had joined the
Serefan He hadn’t lasted long, but the widow’s pension they received from his
death was enough to keep her and her two brothers alive. She had effectively
become the mother. However, the Serefan had found out about her mother’s death
and the fact she had been receiving aid unlawfully and had come down to
‘rectify’ the situation. Both her brothers had been killed, and she had
suffered rape and had been beaten half to death. Luckily for her, she had been
‘rescued’, if you could call being changed rescue.
“She’s
right, you know,” Cyan whispered softly, her cold breath tickling his ears. He
flicked them automatically, making her smile at him and walk round to stand in
front of him.
“Right
about what, tender one?” he asked, feeling calmer talking to her. Cyan always
had that effect on him. She was the standing stone that could stand his
relentless temper.
“The
Serefan.” Even gentle Cyan couldn’t keep the hatred from her voice. “There have
been whispers these past few nights that there is something happening.” She
stopped and looked at the stone floor, worry and fear crossing her petite
features.
“What?”
Vorador asked, reaching forwards, tilting her chin so she looked him in the eye.
Blood-tainted tears filled her eyes.
“The
whispers… The Serefan talk of taking down a big vampire power.” She shivered,
“I fear they have found you, my lord.”
“Nonsense,
child.” He tried to look reassuring but knew he was failing.
“It is not
nonsense!” Cyan stamped her foot in a childish display of anger. At times it
was hard to remember just how young she was. “Most of the Cabal are human. They
are . . . prone to pain, they could talk, my lord, they would give our location
away.”
She was
crying fully now, blood tears streaming down her cheeks. Vorador sighed and
reached forwards, pulling her into his lap like the young girl she appeared to
be. She couldn’t have been older than thirteen when she had died. She sobbed
into his shoulder, her whole body shaking with the grief and fear that
overwhelmed her. Gently, he rubbed her back and tried to think. It was entirely
possible that the rumours were just rumours and nothing more. There had always
been rumours that Kain still lived, that the Serefan had found him, every other
week they seemed to find him and never were any of these tales true. So why
should this one hold any more truth than the others? He drew back and looked in
her eyes.
“The
Serefan have caught me before.” He nuzzled at her cheek softly, felling her
tears slow. “It didn’t do them a lot of good.”
“You
killed them all,” she breathed, having heard this story a great many times.
“Yes,” he
lied, “I did”.
That awful sound of metal scraping
on metal filled his ears as the blade fell. There was a sudden coldness and he
knew, he knew he’d been cut. Then there was darkness.
The darkness swallowed him whole;
he was unable to see anything but the blackness. Then there was a faint light.
It was darkness, but it was light. Almost as if he was
surrounded by light, but it reached no further than him. He looked down
at himself; he was in complete darkness, yet he could see himself clearly. It
was as if he was the only light. It was then the voices came.
He couldn’t make any single voice
out. He was being shouted at by thousands of creatures, all of which were angry
at him. The voices grew louder and louder with each passing moment, until he
was driven to his knees by them. Pain ripped through him at the sound and he
screamed.
Then it was silent.
It was still dark, but after a
moment of hazy thought he realised he had his eyes closed. Slowly, he opened
them into blinding light. He heard himself cry out, a strangled sound, his
entire throat raw. There was movement, and then the light faded into a dull
glow. He opened his eyes again and found himself staring into golden eyes half
hidden behind bone white hair.
“Kain?” he managed before passing
out again.
He slept for many days. His memory
of those days was fragmented and hard to understand; he remembered occasionally
waking up, being fed slowly and carefully, and a few times he knew he had
spoken, but couldn’t remember anything of what he had said. He felt like a
mortal suffering fever. But one night he woke to find his headache had lessened.
His throat was not quite so raw, and he felt stronger.
“Uugh,”
he managed. His mouth tasted like something had died. He heard soft movement
off to his side and tried to turn his head, but the pain stopped him. Kain came
into view soon enough and leaned over him. The fledgling watched him for a
little while; Vorador noticed a long cut running down his left cheek. Kain
frowned for a moment before a sort-of-smile crossed his features.
“Your eyes look a little more
focused today,” he muttered. “Hungry?” Vorador shook his head and opened his
mouth to speak.
“Wha . .
. Happened,” he coughed after speaking, his throat felt like it was made of
sandpaper.
“You were . . . hurt,” Kain spoke
carefully. Vorador’s memory flashed. He remembered
being manhandled into a guillotine, he remembered the
blade falling . . . oh God.
“I . . . died,” he breathed. Kain
looked relieved.
“At least your memories are working
today,” he muttered. Vorador frowned. “You’ve been a little . . . off these
last few days, understandable,” the last word was added almost like an
afterthought.
“How am I . . .” he trailed off.
“I’m not really sure about that.”
Kain frowned at him, “You really should eat something.” He stood up to leave,
but a cloven emerald claw closed on his wrist. Kain looked at him for a moment
and sat back down on the bed.
“Thank you,” Vorador mumbled. Kain
sighed and seemed to think for a moment before lifting his own hand and slicing
a claw through his wrist, offering it to the green-skinned vampire. Vorador
paused for a fraction of a second before the scent of blood wrapped around him
and he sunk fang into open wound.
He heard the fledgling gasp above
him and continued to feed. The moment the blood touched his tongue he nearly
choked. You can learn much from another’s blood, and the amount of raw magical
power that flowed in Kain’s veins nearly made Vorador pass out again. It . . .
it reminded him of Janos, except Janos’ magic had been trained, controlled. This
was half wild, crazed, like a wild animal in a cage that had been beaten; no
matter how many times you hit it, it would still be wild. For someone this powerful
to have so little control . . . it was a threat, a threat Vorador may have to
do something about in the future.
Tenderly he released the wrist in
his grasp and swallowed the last of the blood. He’d been able to taste many
different kinds of magic in his veins, like a cocktail; there had been magic
over the dead, blood magic, magic over the land, it was like he’d swallowed the
pillars and kept them inside of him. He shuddered. No, this was not like Janos.
Janos only had one kind of magic. This was too mixed,
this was like . . . Rainer, the first Guardian of Balance.
“You alright?” Kain asked. Vorador felt a very human hand touch his forehead, and he
felt the blood in him settle, feeling the strength it giving him wind into his
limbs.
“How,” he started when he felt
strong enough, “how did I come to be here?”
“I brought you,” Kain said simply.
Vorador shook his head.
“I mean . . . alive?” he asked. Kain
shrugged and looked confused.
“I just wanted you to live and . .
.” the fledgling trailed off.
“I thought so,” Vorador muttered. Feeling
strong, he struggled into a sitting position, batting Kain away when he leaned
forwards to help. “I sense a lot of magic inside you,” he continued, “some of
it magic over the dead.” He took a deep struggling breath, one clawed talon
rubbing around his throat, feeling the newly healed scar. “The only other
creature I ever knew to have power like this was the original Guardian of Balance,
but even he didn’t have . . .” He
stopped, noting Kain was looking a the bed cover, clawed hand following the
golden threads. “You’re the new balance guardian, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” Kain muttered.
Vorador nodded. He knew when he had
first met him that there was more to him than what met the eye, but . . .
still, balance guardian or not, that didn’t explain why he was quite so
powerful. The nagging doubt that Kain could become a threat buzzed in Vorador’s
mind sharply. The idea of him gaining control as he got older and more powerful
was a frightening one. The small voice in the back of his mind whispered that
he should be doing something about it while the new guardian was young and
still confused by his own power.
Something to make him a non-threat.
“I’ll make
you a deal,” he smiled at Cyan, shaking the truth away. “If you stop worrying
your beautiful head about such rumours, I’ll send out scouts.”
“To make sure that they are only rumours?” Cyan asked, blushing slightly.
“Just to
make sure,” he reassured. Cyan smiled and leaned forwards, planting a chaste
kiss on Vorador’s cheek, before jumping down from his lap to go and organise
some scouts. “Tease!” he called after her. She just turned and grinned at him.
Slowly,
Vorador got to his feet; he’d have to go out to hunt sooner or later, and right
now sooner was looking better than later.
~ Ω ~
The youth
was covered head to toe in mud. Briefly, Vorador wondered where in
The blood
was hot and sweet, but not pure. The poisons of meridian had polluted the boy’s
very essence, but the boy was obviously relatively new to
When the
boy ran dry, he dropped the corpse and set it alight. The less vampire kills
the Serefan knew of, the better. He knew he should return to Sanctuary, but . .
. something was nagging at him, so instead he pulled up the hood of his cloak
and wandered the streets. Even if the air up here was polluted, it was still
better than the damp air in Sanctuary. He clambered upwards, reaching the
rooftops, and let his hood fall again, letting the night air wash over him. It
felt so good to be outside again, especially higher up where the air was
cleaner.
He started
towards the slums out of habit.
The mud-covered
youth had struggled a little and had left great muddy streaks across the cloak.
Vorador smiled and decided to leave them there, not caring. It was only mud
after all.
Vorador slid through the mansion,
feeling ill at ease; something was here now that hadn’t been here a few hours
ago. He’d gone out to hunt. He’d found a werewolf hunting party; grinning, he’d
killed and drank his fill before dragging the remaining men back to the mansion
to be stored either for a fledgling or perhaps for when he would be feeling
lazy. But more likely for a fledgling, he’d been trying to build up the vampire
population over the past two years and it had been going well. He had over
forty now. Forty mouths to feed, forty frightened children to
protect.
He slid down a hallway, closer to
the disturbance. He wasn’t sure what it was; surely, if it were Serefan, there
would be screaming, fighting, blood, same if a rouge lycanthrope had wandered
in. His mental alarm bells were ringing, yet everything else felt perfectly
normal. He leaned against the door to the library. He knew whatever it was, was
in there, but still there was no noise, and no disturbance save from a mental
one.
Feeling very ill at ease he opened
the door as quietly as he could and sighed loudly.
“Son of a . . .” he breathed,
relieved.
Kain sat . . . slumped in a chair,
arms folded on the long table, head buried in arms, clearly asleep. Vorador
paused for a moment and just looked at him, smiling. His bone-white hair was
tangled and muddy in places; there was mud and rips in the loose trousers and
shirt he was dressed in, and on what skin he could see there was yet more mud.
It looked as if he’d been living rough for a while, but no doubt most of the
dirt was from walking through the swamp. A few hours’ sleep and a bath would
see him right. Vorador briefly wondered if there were enough humans to drain
for the big bath when Kain made a noise and shuffled on the chair.
Smiling wider, Vorador moved
forwards, sitting on the table next to where the fledging rested. Slowly, he
began sliding clawed talons through tangled white hair, working a few of the
more stubborn knots out. After a few minutes Kain stirred, the gentle contact
enough to rouse the fledgling.
“There you are,” he yawned,
displaying inhuman dentistry.
“Here I am.” Vorador sighed, “You
realize a bed is more suitable than the table.”
“I was, in fact, waiting for you.”
Kain sat back, “I brought you something shiny.”
“Shiny?” Vorador lifted an eyebrow.
Kain reached to the floor and lifted a small bag, about big enough to fit a
human head inside. He dropped the bag on the table and listened to the clink of
may stones. Looking inside the bag, Vorador was
impressed. Kain grinned and shook his head hard, bits of dry earth falling from
his hair.
“Where the hell have you been?”
Vorador smirked, wiping dirt from his lap where it had fallen, “And rolling in
mud is not as good for your skin as humans make it out to be.”
“The gems came from the Oracle’s
caves. There were rather a lot and humans fear the caves now more than ever, so
I haven’t been rolling in mud,” Kain snapped, “it rained today, the swamp was
worse than usual.”
“A bath would be desired then.”
Vorador stood up, dragging the fledgling up with him. Kain made a defeated
sound.
“Can I not just sleep?” he
muttered.
“Not covered in mud in one of my
beds,” Vorador grinned.
“It’s only mud, Vorador…”
Kain had
always come and gone from the mansion, treating it like some sort of elaborate
hotel. He would arrive usually baring some kind of ‘gift’, be it gems, humans
or some rare and powerful artefact he’d ‘stumbled across’ as he always put it.
Then he would stay for a few nights, usually tormenting some fledgling or
another before he would leave again, only to return in a few months’ time.
Vorador
hadn’t minded for the first year or so. It had been interesting to find out
what Kain had ‘stumbled across’ this time, and the fledgling had a surprisingly
good understanding of most things and could hold rather . . . interesting, if
odd, conversations. But as time went on, talk of war swept
the land. The vampire numbers were getting larger,
the humans were starting to take notice of when several of their village died
in a night. Tensions were rapidly rising, and soon something would snap.
Although
Vorador did not want war, he did believe it was inevitable, just as inevitable
as it had been before. He would want numbers on his side and he had made a lot
of fledglings. He would want leaders, and so he had made leaders; he had
created four fledglings to lead his ‘army’, if or when the time came, but much
to his frustration all the fledgling leaders seemed to do was argue. It usually
was Magnus and Sebastian versus Faustus and Marcus. He had expected that within
a year of creating these fledglings to lead his ‘army’ he would at least have a
somewhat organised group of fledglings, or maybe even an army - but no… all he had was a large rabble of young
vampires and four other young vampires who continually fought.
He had
started to worry.
He had
feared for the safety of the race as a whole, but also something else had been
niggling at him. Usually, Kain returned every five months, give or take a week
or two, but it had been fourteen months since he had last returned. It was a
strange sensation that Vorador experienced. He wasn’t worried for the fledgling,
as he knew Kain could take care of himself, but it was something . . . like
worry.
He had
sent out a call, a metal cry as it were calling all vampires to him, and as Kain was a vampire he should reply to it. As it
happened, Kain had heard, and surprisingly he had bowed to another’s wishes and
had come to the mansion. Yet he had not wanted to stay.
Looking
out on the lower city now, he wondered if he had made the right decision. Then
it his lip of course he had. If he hadn’t made Kain stay, then they would have
fallen - all vampires, including himself, would have perished; none would have
been spared. Looking down, he leapt from rooftop to rooftop, heading towards
the slums with increasing speed.
It was odd
really, Kain had had no objection to fighting. In fact,
when he had first arrived, the first words he’d spoken to Vorador had been in
favour of going to war with the humans. The ashen-skinned fledgling had seemed
to have a stronger bloodlust than Vorador had realised. But the fledgling had
not wanted to sacrifice his freedom.
Vorador
had promised he wouldn’t be sacrificing his freedom. But promises are like
bones.
They’re
made to be broken.
End of Chapter Two
Authoress Note: bit longer this time. I hope it
wasn’t to dull but chapter one didn’t really set anything out so that is what
this chapter was trying to do.
I hope you liked
Please Review.