Family
Disclaimer: Legacy of
Kain belongs to Edios and
Rating: PG-13 – For mild references to violence and Yaoi.
Part: One of One
Set: post Blood omen.
Authoress note: it’s been
a long time since I wrote a short fic-let. This is short, a bit dark/sad and
rather pointless but I liked it anyway.
For all my
reviewers, who without I would have surely given up a long time ago.
Family
{Vorador}
Sometimes
even when one knows that an action is the wrong one, one still does it and
cannot when asked say why they acted thus.
I have
found myself in this situation twice as of late. The first was when a
bedraggled fledgling appeared before me, requesting advice and also if it was
my whim to do so, aid. I had no reason to help this fledgling, in fact the
situation should have been quiet the opposite as I had every reason to cause
him harm. I had been planning on
destroying him, as he had entered my home in such a crass manner and further
more had killed a great many of my own fledglings yet when he that dinning
chamber entered I found I could not.
He was
smaller than I had thought from my communications to my fledglings and the
small rumours I had heard; and he appeared tired and somewhat battered by his
journey so far. I found myself looking at him and all feelings of anger were
replaced by a sudden want to protect him as if he were my own. But I am not a
man ruled by my emotions, I did not harm him but nor did I offer him to much. Instead I answered his questions and offered him a
glass as I would any guest in my home.
However
when I was finished speaking and he stood to leave, I found myself standing and
taking the ring I had made for Janos from my hand and holding it out to him. I
had made that ring centuries ago, when I myself was little more than a
fledgling. For many years my sire had been attempting to teach me the magic of
teleportation with some small and rather pathetic results and so as a result I
had made the ring. I had placed my blood in the ring and my sire had imbued it
with magic; it would when used correctly summon me to the wearer. I had made it
for Janos’ hand as he was the only one I would willingly drop everything for
and go to. Yet there I was holding it out to a vagabond fledgling who had shown no respect for me or my property and had
murdered those of my blood with very little difficulty.
Why was I
helping him?
I suppose
I could explain it away as self-preservation. This fledgling was strong almost
freakishly so for one so young. If he was so powerful now what would he be
capable of in a few decades with a little guidance and instruction. It would be
safer to keep such a creature under my control; maybe even if fortune smiled
upon me I would be able to nudge him in the direction of my enemies. At least those
were my thoughts until recently. For now I have seen how he reacts when someone
tries to control him. Yet even though I know and understand how dangerous he is
I still allowed him inside that was the second time I acted without being able
to say why.
It was the
start of the rainy season, cold and damp and he had appeared again.
He was bedraggled
and bloody, his clothing was torn and his armour dented, he appeared tired and
somewhat more jaded than when I had last spoken to him. I had brought him
through the mansion in a more civilised way than he had previously entered. It
was in that quiet walk that I started to notice small strange things about him.
He smelt familure, something on him made me think of times long past. Times
when vampires ruled the skies and my sire kept my bed warm.
We entered
one of the many rooms of my home, chairs littered the little room around a well
kept fire, I saw the fledgling behind me smile. I
invited him to sit and watched him settle into one of the large chairs, smiling
to myself at the apparent pleasure he took in being warm again after being so
cold.
We spoke
some that night, and I learnt a little about him,
although to be brutally honest what I learned only confused me more and I fell
silent to ponder on what he had said. He claimed to be only months old, and
that struck me as odd. For no vampire fledgling could survive alone at such an
early age. It took years sometimes even a decade before we could live alone,
yet here he was sipping at warm blood saying he had only just this week seen the
end of his second month as a vampire. I thought he could not surprise me
further but I was wrong when he claimed to have no sire, at first I thought it
was just the words of an angry abandoned fledgling but there was that scent on
him. The smell was getting stronger the warmer the room became, and I found
myself almost luxuriating in it, he smelt of the winged ones, his blood smelt
like that of an ancient, it was a strange coincidence and I could little help
myself from inhaling sharply at the pang of loneliness and loss the smell
brought out in me.
A slight
sound suddenly snapped me from my thoughts and I realised I had been silent for
a long time. I looked to my guest ready to make apologies for my rudeness but
found him sleeping. He was curled in the chair, his head resting on his knees, blood-soaked
hair hanging limp in his face. I felt myself smile, for all his power and bravado
he was still only a fledgling. I stood and walked to him; a hand on his
shoulder jerked him from his sleep and he glared at me, his eyes dull and
unfocused.
“Come we
will find you a bed child.” I spoke softly as I would to an injured animal, he
grumbled something about me calling him child which made me laugh as I helped
him stand and walk from the small room into the hallways.
We found a
room a little way from my own and I pushed him inside, with offerings of fire
wood and fresh blood, he mumbled something that I couldn’t understand no matter
how good my hearing, before unbuckling what little armour he still wore,
letting it clatter to the floor, his shirt was torn under the metal and found a
place on the floor also. I smirked at him watching as his boots joined the
small pile of tattered clothes and dented armour. He glared at me once more for
good measure before literally collapsing on the bed.
I shook my
head still smiling to myself; I couldn’t remember being that young but I
suppose I must have been. I entered the room fully and lifted the pile he had left;
the shirt went in the bin and the armour I sent down to the basement for
repairs. I made a mental note to have clothing made for him and a wash wouldn’t
have hurt him either. For while water burns us there are other liquids that do
not. Closing the shades over the window I glanced at him and sighed before
moving over to the bed, dragging the comforter up over him, it would become
bitterly cold without a fire in here. I used the moment to glance over him, he
had a lot of blood on him and it struck in the back of my mind that he could
still be hurt, but my concern was unfounded, he seemed to be fine other than bitterly
exhausted. I walked to the doorway and stopped.
What the
hell was I doing?
I was
treating this half mad, powerful, murderous creature as if he was one of my
own. What on Nosgoth had come over me? I had in the past taken in fledglings
that were not my own but I had always been rather specific as to their nature, any I did not think would do well and obey easily
were killed. This one should have died at my claws the minuet he showed up at
my doorstep, yet here I was giving him a bed, taking care of him the way a
mother would her child. What was I doing? Then I noticed that smell again, and
glancing down at my hands I saw his blood on my claws, absently I lifted one
and licked it clean.
I could
taste power, the magic of the pillars ran strongly in his blood, but that did
not surprise me, I could recognise a pillar guardian easily. But something else
in his blood made my head spin.
I wobbled
on my feet and shocked had to stumble to a chair. What was going on here? I
flicked my tongue out again to taste, just to make sure. The taste was the
same. Exactly the same, there was a strange spice to the blood that I took to
be his own unique taste but the undercurrent was exactly the same as . . .
Janos.
My sire.
This
fledgling’s blood was similar to my own, my own blood had a rough edged taste
to it that was my own flavour but underneath that there was a soft, subtle
flavour that was Janos. I felt my hands start to shake, Janos was dead, long
dead, years ago; yet here walked one with Janos’ flavour in his blood.
What on
Nosgoth was he?
End fic.
Authoress note: Random, I know. But I always
wondered why Vorador put up with Kain’s hassle and bitching. So I concluded
that there had to be a good reason. Lol, silly I know ^_^
Please review.