The Forgotten Gods

 

Disclaimer: Legacy of Kain belongs to Edios and Crystal Dynamics not me. I am making £0.00 out of this fic, it is written purely because I have a burning need to create. Although I would like to own Vorador . . . then he’d be mine.

 

Warning: this fic contains YAOI (GuyXGuy), blood play and a lemon, if this offends or upsets you do not read this, it’s that simple.

 

MILD Defiance spoilers – reference to the ancients curse

 

Rating: M

 

Pairing: Janos/Vorador

 

Setting: pre all games.

 

Authoress note: Randomly reading over my old fics and I remember this one being so much better than it actually was so in my infinite boredom I am re-writing it . . . again.   

 

IMPORTANT NOTE: I still have the original version for those who want it. This version is completely different, does not follow the same story line as the last one at all. (Really should have probably called it something else and wrote it as a separate fic but oh well.)

 

Also I am assuming the ancients were affected by water, but only after the curse.

 

Enjoy.

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Chapter Four

 

Vorador woke to duel sensations of sharp pain and soft touch.

 

Pain washed over him in waves making him wince but there was also a soft warmth running over his face, a gentle touch brushing over the areas of pain. With a groan he tried to move, but as he began to roll the pain in his chest screamed out at him, making him gasp. How could he be so hurt, what had happened . . . he didn’t remember. The last thing he remembered was the hunt; he frowned not opening his eyes, he had fallen, he had thought himself dead but clearly that was not the case.

 

Swallowing dry he tried not to groan again. He must have been carried back to the village, the women must be tending him. the soft touches and murmured words made him think of the women. Slowly he cracked open an eye, expecting pale skin, delicate limbs and soft smiles. Instead he saw a room. The room he was in was large, and cold, very cold. He was lying on a bed, covered by a soft, fur lined cloth. For a moment he forgot the fear at the strange surroundings and the pain and luxuriated in the soft fur against his bare skin. Unfortunately that thought brought him out of him comfort. Bare skin, a touch on his forehead made him jerk his eyes upwards to the one touching him.

 

Janos.

 

“What are you doing!” he tried to say, however all he managed was a low growling sound that could not be called words no matter how kind the listener was.

 

“It is nice to see you have woken.” Janos said quietly, rubbing something onto his forehead, it seemed to be a balm; it was warm and sticky and smelt terrible. But the gentle rubbing over his aching head felt good, the subtle scrap of claws over pain sensitive skin made him shudder. And for a moment he forgot it was his sworn enemy, his hunter that was touching him, instead it was simply his friend, one whom he had admired for a long time. His friend who put up with his bad temper, his insults and who was for some reason helping him. “You are awake are you not?” Janos asked and Vorador heard the smug humour in the vampires voice.

 

“wha?” Vorador jerked away from the vampires touch, not admitting it had felt good. Janos lifted his hand looking confused and frowned at the mortal as he tried to speak. “wha . . . hap . . .” he managed before coughing, his chest screamed at him as the hacking cough ran though him.

 

Janos frowned feeling his heart speed up in panic as the mortal started coughing and didn’t stop. He had little knowledge when it came to tending the sick at best let alone a sick mortal. Not knowing what else to do he lifted the crystal glass he had filled earlier and held it to Vorador who took it without looking and swallowed the cold water without pause for breath.

 

His throat wet Vorador felt the coughing stop, but his chest hurt terribly. He took a few breaths trying to calm down and lay back.

 

“You were hunting in the canyons with a group.” Janos said slowly, Vorador nodded

 

“Yes,” he coughed again “I remember, I fell,” the words ‘I thought I would die.’ Went unsaid the silence lasted only a moment but it was heavy and cold.

 

“I caught you when you fell, I’m sorry but your companions saw, I assume they think you dead now.” Janos swallowed waiting for the outcry of anger that was sure to follow. Having just admitted that it was his doing that Vorador could not return to the village, for if he did so the other mortals would assume him a daemon. He would be hunted by those he had lived with for so long. But the outcry never came. Instead Vorador looked pensive and troubled.

 

“If . . . cau …caught me . . . why?” he was finding it easier to talk now that his throat was not bone dry.

 

“Why are you hurt?” Janos looked pained, his hand coming up to rest on the mortal’s head once again “that to is my doing.” The vampire sighed. “when we were air-born you woke and panicked, I was unable to completely control our fall and as a result, we landed badly but you are far more injured than I.”

 

Vorador let the words sink in and slowly closed his eyes, he was lying in a vampires bed, in great pain, hurt and bleeding with a vampire that he knew had not fed for a long time. He had no home to return to and no one else who he knew to help him. He was effectively helpless at Janos’ mercy and it seemed the vampire was merciful. For in the silence the gentle touch returned.

 

“I have bound what was bleeding,” Janos continued, “but I cannot mend what is broken,”

 

“My chest.” Vorador breathed, pathetically proud to have managed the whole words. The vampire reached down and lowered the cloth covering the mortal to reveal bruises larger than a mans hand covering his rib cage “I fear it will take some time to heal you, but you may remain here, you will be safe.” Janos swallowed heavily at the words.

 

It was harder than he had thought it would be, he had thought his guilt and conscience would be enough to keep the hunger under control. But it had been only by luck and pure strength of will that Vorador still breathed. It had taken the vampire hours to clean the blood away, having to stop constantly finding it difficult to be so close to one so hurt and vulnerable and not feed. He was glad the mortal had woken, his words a comforting distraction to the smell of his blood and body.

 

“Where?” Vorador spoke his voice shaking

 

“My home, deep in the northern mountains, we will be safe here.” Janos nodded and reached down to the small pile of wrapping bandages he had somehow found.

 

“You are alone here.” Vorador breathed, thinking past the pain. Finding it odd that the vampire had such a large home and yet it seemed as if he was the only one here.

 

“I am.” Janos breathed, wrapping the ragged cloth tightly around the mortal’s head.

 

“Do you choose to be alone?”

 

“in a manner of speaking I do.” Janos answered, “I do not actively seek the company of my own kind.” Vorador frowned “I find them . . .” he paused and looked deeply uncomfortable “depressing.”

 

“so you do choose to be alone.” Vorador pressed

 

“that is not true.” Janos disagreed “for I seek you out on occasion.” The smile was small but it was there. Vorador felt heat rush to his face and turned his eyes away.

 

Janos smiled as he heard the blood speed up in the mortal’s veins as he blushed and wondered to himself why he hadn’t noticed the mannerism before, it was an attractive one. But then Janos had always been attracted to the mortal, since they had first met and the mortal had been willing to sit and share words with him, Janos had spent most of the conversation wondering what it would feel like to run his claws through the black hair, to lie again with someone warm who did not run in fear at his sight. He had found himself looking away from the mortal at times only to look back and find himself under similar scrutiny.

 

But Vorador was nothing if not stubborn and anger was his favourite response to anything he did not understand or wish to acknowledge. And so Janos had become accustomed to dealing with the mortals temper, but the anger did not dismay the immortal but rather drew him closer to the mortal for few creatures in this world were as passionate about anything as Vorador was about everything. He knew the mortal was fond of him for he still allowed their meetings an on occasion allowed the vampire to lay hand on him, and here he was naked and hurt, at the vampires mercy and much calmer than Janos had expected.

 

“Stop watching me like that.” The mortal spoke, his voice was not unpleasant however merely resigned.

 

“Like what?” Janos asked blinking, embarrassed at being caught

 

“You know what,” Vorador growled “and I said stop.” The mortal frowned, wondering why on Nosgoth the immortal showed him such affection when all he should be showing was hunger. Why him, why not one of the others, there were those out there better that he, more docile, charming and fairer of face but yet the immortal only showed him this attention, this tender hunger than Vorador was coming to enjoy and miss when not there. Yet it frightened the mortal also, hunger was one thing when it came from a mortal, it was something else entirely when it came from a vampire.

 

There were times when Vorador thought he recognised the hunger in Janos’ eyes as something familure and mortal. Other times however the hunger in his eyes, in his very frame was so alien that it terrified the mortal. Yet despite this he never cut off contact with the immortal, never had he bid the immortal leave, always he had brought him closer. Vorador shook his head at the thoughts and winced wondering why now, why when he was in such pain, when he was so vulnerable, why now did these things come to light.

 

Maybe because he was vulnerable.

 

He let out a sharp sound when a different cloth wiped at his shoulder. The touch was gentle, soft but the wound on his shoulder did not care, it screamed anyway. The immortal jerked back at the mortals sudden movement but realising it was not revulsion but pain he leaned back again. Once more guilt ate at him, he had done this to Vorador, to the one mortal that trusted him, spoke with him and wanted his company. But once again the guilt was not strong enough to drown out the hunger. The dry cloth moving over the wound had caused it to bleed again, blood oozing thickly and slowly. It was not a danger in itself, Vorador would not bleed to death from this but it was a danger when the creature tending you was tormented by this.

 

Janos bit down hard on his tongue, hoping his own blood would silence the hunger long enough for him to finish tending to Vorador and then hunt. He snapped at the hunger inside of him, ‘just a little bit longer.’ It was pain inside of him, no longer hunger but instead solid pain.

 

“Tell me do you enjoy starving yourself?” Vorador asked quietly, Janos jerked at the words

 

“What?” Janos swallowed his own blood before speaking, hoping his blood would not show on his teeth.

 

“I can feel the tension in you, see it as well.” Vorador tried to move, but a strong hand on his shoulder stopped him. “You enjoy this punishment, why else would you do that to yourself.”

 

“To save lives!” Janos frowned at the mortal, the slight movement had cause his heart rate to speed and his breathing was heavy, he was going to hurt himself. Vorador felt his blood rush to his head and his vision swam, his stomach turned and he swallowed hard and without warning laughter bubbled up from his throat. Janos frowned at the mortal, confused beyond reason.

 

“You say that a lot, to save lives. You also say that no mortal does not flee you,” he gasped for breath “yet here I am,” the laughter continued “I think I must be mad.”

 

“I am inclined to agree.” Janos said slowly as Vorador continued to laugh

 

“You once told me that mortals take their lives when you feed, as they believe you only pausing to torment them, yet you know I know different and yet still you have never asked this of me.” He lifted his lower arm, still blood stained and torn.

 

“I would not.” Janos was taken back

 

“Here I am, unable to even sit up by myself, basically helpless, wounded and bleeding and all you do is look.” The mortal coughed his throat raw “you truly are a saint Janos, and I truly must be mad to offer you such.”

 

“why?” Janos found himself asking without realising he was even speaking

 

“For your kindness to me I replay back to you.” Vorador was still laughing slightly but had calmed greatly, his eyes were unfocused and Janos wondered if the mortal even knew what he was saying. “And because it is something I can do, and want to.”

 

The vampire stood shaking and turned away from the mortal; he walked silently to the door. Only when he was outside the door did he let out the breath he was holding. Walking to the nearest balcony he spread his wings and tumbled down.

 

 

End Chapter

 

Authoress note: god I am tired!!!!

 

Please review.