Slaughter
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 Kain . . . 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.
Rating: R - NC17
Pairing: Kain/Raziel
Part: One of three or
possibly four haven’t decided yet
Authoress note: Wow this fic hates me. It keeps being evil every
time I sit down to write it the ideas for it evaporate. *pokes fic* come on you
LIVE!! LIVE I SAY!!
After much prodding the second chapter has decided to pop
up. Thankfully *I blame college and all the damn assignments I keep getting oh
and my job and any other pressure on my time*
I had Kain take Raziel back to
* \/ * /\ * \/ * /\ *
Chapter Two
Kain opened
his eyes before snapping them shut again as they were assaulted by the dawn’s
light.
His mind
reeled, he couldn’t remember, he didn’t understand why felt so strange for him
to be opening his eyes again. He managed slowly to open them, and, ignoring the
pain caused by the dawn, he looked around. His vision blurred slightly as his
eyes watered in the light. He was in an alley and, judging from the smell, it
had to be an ally in the lower city of
Why was
he lying in the corner of some alley, half buried under human garbage, his
clothes damp with the morning mists? Why did his entire body ache like he’d
slept in a vice? Why was there blood on him that was obviously his own and
another’s as well? Why did he just want to curl deeper into the alley’s waste
and disappear forever?
Then
suddenly the memory of the night before came rushing back.
Ambush.
He’d been
ambushed by a group of glyph knights that, despite the lack of glyph energy or
any coordinated leadership, still managed to hunt the streets, looking for
fledglings. Kneeling up, he glanced at his hands. Dry with the crusted blood of
humans, and beneath that would be soft, pale flesh with only small black claws
to defend himself with . . . They had mistaken his identity, thinking him a
fledgling. He snorted. He couldn’t blame them. He still looked like the
fledgling he had never really been.
The
ambush had been unexpected. He hadn’t been feeding well lately, and thus he was
weakened as a result. But still, the humans stood no chance of killing him.
They had however managed to tire him out and wound him. He’d made it into the
alley before passing out, leaving there corpses lying in the gutter.
He sighed
as he kneeled in the filth of the alley, a sigh of relief, as he had not wanted
to die, at least not at the hands of such faceless mortals, so clumsy and empty
of passion. But the sigh was also sad.
He stood
slowly, feeling his head spin slightly as he did so. He looked himself over.
There was a shiny pink scar running down his side, and one across his back, the
skin pulled tight and slightly rippled. He had bled only a little. Blood dried
on his torso, but it was no matter; a few nights and there wouldn’t even be a
scar.
He shook
his head as he began to make his way out of the alley, into somewhere dark
where he could rest properly to be strong enough to hunt when the night fell.
He shook his head harder, trying in vain to shake the misery from himself. But
it was no good. Another sigh escaped him. He wished Magnus had been there, or
Sebastian, or Vorador, or even the annoying Faustus . . . hell, any of them
would have done. He knew that together they would have easily ripped out the
throats of the humans, laughing as they did so.
The
bitter blade of loneliness dipped deeper into him, making him wince in mental
pain.
The sky
was brightening quickly now. His weakness made him vulnerable to it, gave it
more power over him. As he stumbled around a corner, his clawed hand on the
wall for guidance, the light hit him full in the face. There was nothing for a
second; then came the pain that burned his eyes and seared his brain.
His other
arm flew up to shield his eyes. Surely the house he had eradicated of life and
claimed as his own for the short time he remained in the city was just up ahead.
He groped at the wall blindly, the other arm still over his eyes, shielding
them. He groaned, feeling as if someone had poured water onto his eyes.
The wall
behind him was cool against his bare torso and he allowed it to sooth him a
little as he tried to remember where he was. Inhaling through his nose, he
tried to scent the air, but all he smelt was dirt, humans and waste. His mind
would not calm down enough so he could reliably use the map of scents in his
head.
Slowly
feeling his way down the streets, he made it to his ‘home’ and let himself in
by feel alone. The darkness of the blacked out windows seeped around him and he
sighed again in relief jerking at a sudden creak in the old wooden floor boards.
He half expected to hear Vorador coming down the stairs to scold him for being
out in the light in his weakened state.
It took
him a second to remember he was alone.
Clambering
upstairs, he burrowed into his bed. It was dark and safe; it smelt of him, just
him. He closed his eyes, remembering a time when everything he owned smelt of
him and three or four others at least, not one thing was just his. He’d often
curled under the sheets to find the smell of Magnus mingled with his own, or
Sebastian’s.
A rich
cocktail of company and lovers. He groaned quietly into the pillow.
Just
because he was alone now did not mean he had to enjoy it . . . or to remain
alone.
Golden eyes snapped open suddenly and were met with a wide
tangle of red.
Alone again.
With a tired sigh, Kain clawed his way out from the sheets
nose first, struggling briefly and wondering tiredly how just a single piece of
cloth could cause him this much frustration. Eventually he freed himself,
nuzzling briefly at the pillow he rested on before he then moved to sit up.
He was snapped back hard.
He lay there and blinked for a moment, pain shooting
across his scalp; golden eyes slid to the side and were met with a pale
sleeping face with one hand fisted in white hair. Panic shot through him for a
moment and he had to swallow a yelp before he recognised the one next to
him.
Raziel.
He let out a relieved breath, and shook his head a little
at his own foolishness. How had he not noticed the slight warmth, the smell,
the feeling of one of the fledgling’s legs tangled with his own? He turned and
smiled a little, noting the slight frown his movements caused on his childs forehead. A thin arm reached around him, thin
fingers digging into his side.
He leaned to the side to nuzzle contently at his fledgling
but stopped himself. Memories of what had passed flashed briefly in his mind. He’d
sworn to himself before he raised this one that this was a creature gifted with
unlife to aid in the removal of his ‘responsibility’. It was not something he’d
brought here to cuddle with, to help ease the sharp pain of loneliness.
He had given his affection to others and they had used it
to nearly destroy him. He would not give anyone else that kind of power over
him. He glared hatefully at the one next to him, and as if sensing his maker’s
turmoil the fledgling made a quiet sleep sound and tightened his grip a little.
Kain grunted. Even asleep, this one would try to
manipulate him. He stopped at that thought and snorted. He shook his head more
so, smiling properly for the first time in a while. He really was getting
paranoid. He’d be jumping at shadows next, curling in a corner somewhere,
babbling; people would be calling him ‘Irmok’. The small creature was probably
just dreaming.
Being alone for so long had obviously affected his mind.
Kain snorted at himself again.
But that did not change the fact that this creature, like
the others, was here for the sole purpose of relieving him of that
‘responsibility’. He had seen images in the Chronoplast;
he knew of the other six he would raise and he’d seen their deaths at the hands
of this strange demonic creature that could lead to his own undoing . . . Strange
then that he had seen the deaths of four, not six of his children. Where were
the other two?
A loud growl from his stomach interrupted his thoughts;
the growl was echoed by that of his fledgling’s stomach. Realising he was going
to have to move sooner of later, and sooner would probably be better, he
untangled the fledgling’s hand from his hair and shuffled ungracefully out of
the bed. But he was successful in not waking his fledgling.
~
Cold.
Very cold.
Young golden eyes snapped open, and the fledgling jerked
upright, looking around.
He was cold and alone.
A knot of fear tightened in the fledgling’s stomach and it
let out a small cry. When no one came, the cry became louder. Still, no one
came. Raziel blinked wide-eyed and took a closer look around the room. There
was no sign that anyone had been here other than himself. His father was gone.
Why did his father leave? Had he been bad? The fledgling
bit his lip with tiny forming fangs. Was he not good enough? Why would his
father abandon him?
A small sniffle escaped the child and he lay back down on
the bed, shifting over to the spot previously occupied by his maker, his hand
blindly reaching for the sheets. Those, when found, were pulled up and over the
young one’s head. He inhaled deeply and shuddered in his red cocoon.
It smelt like his father here. He nuzzled further into the
pillow, shuddering a little as a sob tried to escape his throat. Why would he
be abandoned? Was there something wrong with him? His hand grasped the pillow
tightly and the young fledgling blinked. In his hand were several long white
hairs. He just stared at them for a
moment.
He was jerked roughly from his thoughts by a slam
somewhere close by; he yelped and buried himself further under the ruddy
sheets. Something was close by, he could hear footsteps getting louder. Raziel
closed his eyes tightly as he heard the door to the room open, biting his lip
to stop any sound from escaping. He quivered as footsteps advanced across the
room.
Something was in the room. What if it was another vampire,
one that was not his father, what if it was going to hurt him! What if it
killed him! He whimpered, wishing his father were here.
Red sheets were pulled back suddenly. Raziel kept his eyes
closed tightly, not wanting to see what was about to hurt him. The thing
touched his shoulder gently, gently . . . it wasn’t hurting? Confused, the
fledgling cracked open an eye just for a fraction and saw the bewildered
expression of his father.
With a small cry, thin arms were suddenly wrapped around
Kain’s waist. The action was an unexpected one and with a dumfounded yell Kain
lost his precarious balance on the edge of the bed, sending both vampires to
the floor. Shaking his head and rubbing wooden splinters from the floor off his
arm, Kain tried to sit up, but the thin arms now around his chest stopped him.
He blinked, looking down at his child. The small fledgling
was quivering, tiny breathy sobs escaping him, the creature was obviously
terrified.
But why?
“Hey,” Kain whispered, not wanting to frighten it more, but
also not knowing how to comfort it. He’d never been one for comfort before, so,
keeping his mouth shut, he simply wrapped his arms around his child and waited.
Slowly, words came out between breathy, muffled sobs.
“You . . . weren’t he . . . here,” Raziel managed.
Kain cursed quietly, he should have known better. Vorador
had never left a new born alone, ever, even after the first few weeks of unlife
the fledglings still followed him around like lost puppies, clinging to him,
frightened and curious. Just because he’d been alone, he bit his lip. He really
should have known better, remembering how much he had hated being alone, how
frightened he’d been at first.
“It’s alright,” he mumbled against black hair, “I’m here
now.” Reaching down, he took his child’s chin in his claws, making his fledgling
look at him. “I won’t leave you again.”
His fledgling looked at him through watery eyes before
snivelling a little and leaning against him again, slowly calming down.
~
Night folded like a cloak over the city of
Kain sat on a widen chair, looking out of a blackened
window, judging silently when it was dark enough and late enough for it to be
safe. His child curled at his feet, his head resting in his lap, asleep once
again.
Slowly, Kain roused his child when the half moon was high.
Still half asleep, the fledgling snapped at his hand, still forming fangs to
blunt to break the skin as easily as the sharpened fang would.
“Hungry,” Raziel murmured against his father’s leg. He
allowed himself to be drawn to his feet
Young golden eyes blinked hungrily down at the mortals who
shuffled to and from where ever it was mortals went and came from. Raziel
watched as a young couple fumbled at each other in an alley. Licking his lips
subconsciously, he looked up at his father.
Kain snorted disdainfully.
“Hopeless, all of them,” he growled. “We’ll find better
ones, when these are all home in bed.”
Raziel nodded a little sadly, glancing back at the couple
who’d fallen prey now to a group of thugs.
“Their blood tastes of watered down dreams,” Kain muttered
as he drew his child towards the edge of the rooftop they were currently
perched on. Lifting the young one easily, he dropped down three stories into
another alley.
Glancing around, he lead his child to the main street of the
lower city.
“There’s no magic in this town,” he hissed as they walked,
“no flavour . . . its all still very green.”
“Green?” his child asked, not understanding.
Kain stopped and looked down at the fledgling who was
looking more and more perplexed as the evening went on. He smirked.
“When you are stronger, I will take you away from here. I
will take you somewhere with magic, with flavour.” The fledgling frowned. “I
will take you north, past the pillars.” Kain started walking again.
“North?” the fledgling whispered before jogging to catch
up with his father, who was disappearing around a corner. He walked close to
his father, a shaking hand reaching out every now and then to touch the bare
skin of his back, almost as if making sure he was real.
Kain lead his child close towards the upper city, but they
did not enter it. The blood in the upper city was always better; the people were
less hopeless, less destroyed. But there were more guards, more knights in the
upper city.
After his defeat of the Serefan lord the Serefan had tried
to keep their iron grip on
On the border between the upper and lower city, the blood
had a little more body, but the guards were few and far between. It was safe.
Kain slowed his pace a little and walked with his nose
leading the way, scenting the air, trying to hunt out something young, fresh
and alive. Raziel had now wound a hand around a part of his father’s armour and
hung on tightly, allowing himself to be lead along.
Kain stopped suddenly, causing his child to walk into him.
His head jerked to the left suddenly, and he tilted more so, scenting the air. Slowly,
a smile grew. He could not believe his luck! Even in the damp, polluted and
unforgiving streets of
It was almost fate.
He turned and looked at his child, who looked back at him
with an expression of utter trust and a little confusion. His child’s first
meal had of course been his own blood, his second had been a noble caught and
imprisoned by Kain and now his third, the one he would kill himself, would be
someone from the north, someone with magic in their blood.
His chide would never have to dine on the offal of
Kain strode down a street, following his nose. Raziel
jogging to keep up with his father, his hand still tightly gripping the armour,
looked around. The street appeared the same as any of the others. Why was his
father suddenly grinning like that? Kain slowed before turning around. He
walked up and down for a moment before stopping by a street too thin to be a
proper street but to wide to be classified as an alley.
By persistence and luck they had found something
wonderful. Beside a half broken door, a sign read:
“Madam Roseretta,
the one true fortune teller.”
Smaller words underneath read the usual drabble:
“Sees all, knows all;
find your dream man, make wealth fast with Madam Roseretta.”
Kain smiled. He did not for one minute believe that this
woman was a true seer, but she was something he wanted. She was a gypsy from the
north. She would have spice and magic in her blood. He turned to his child, who
stood behind him, peering over his shoulder at the doorway.
“While there is no magic in the streets or the polluted
air of this city, you must always remember,” he smirked, “there is magic in
every bloodstream.”
He pushed at the broken door which opened easily at first
before falling from its hinges. The room was dark and looked as if it had been
abandoned. The air was warm and wet like a kiss, and the scent of cheap wine
was so strong he could almost taste it.
“There’s no one here,” Raziel whispered, disappointed.
“Shh.” Kain leaned down a little and looked his child in
the eye. “Ignore your eyes, see with this,” he tapped Raziel’s nose.
They made their way forwards into another room. This one
was dimly lit and richly decorated. Red silk hung from the ceiling, purple felt
covered the floor and shelves, and the table in the centre of the room was
covered in black and gold.
Kain stopped when he sensed his child had suddenly gone
ridged behind him. Following his child’s gaze, he saw the girl. A lone, dark-skinned
girl. Her long dark hair swept across the floor as she knelt to reach into a
low cupboard. She was beautiful. As she stood there, her scent drifted across
the room. He could smell to oil in her hair, the delicate hint of rose, the
sandalwood and cinnamon that was so much a part of her that no amount of bathing
would remove it.
Despite having fed earlier, his mouth watered.
A quiet whine snapped him back to reality; he looked at
his child, who was desperately hungry but waiting for permission. He nodded and
watched for a moment as Raziel moved forwards, with a clumsy grace to his
movements, before he too moved forward.
The girl looked up, noticing them now. She opened her
mouth as if to speak, then realisation dawned in her eyes as she recognised the
two in front of her as predators. Her mouth opened wider as if to scream.
“Shh,” Kain spoke, eyes glowing briefly.
The girl slowly closed her mouth, her eyes huge and
terrified, but her body refusing to obey her thoughts. He lifted her from the
ground carefully, as if frightened to break her. Kneeling beside her, he
gestured for Raziel to do the same.
Raziel blinked widely at the obviously terrified girl. So
intent was he on her that he did not notice his father handing him a small
knife until he reached out to touch his shoulder.
“You may use this if you like,” he spoke softly. “Your
teeth are not yet what they will be.” He paused, using his claws to nick the
girl’s throat. He reached down and collected the drops on his fingers before
rubbing them on his child’s lips. “But you should still use them, it’s better
when you bite.”
The girl managed a sob, a long hopeless sound. Tears
coursed down her face, silver in the dim light. Briefly, Raziel wondered what
they would taste like, what they would taste like mingled with her blood.
“Please don’t let him hurt me,” the girl managed, big
terrified eyes pleading at Raziel. The numbness Kain had placed on her was
slipping. “Please,” she begged.
“Don’t worry,” Raziel purred, leaning down. “I’ll help
you, don’t be scared.” He felt his father’s hand on the back of his head,
guiding him towards the girl’s throat.
He paused; the first blood he had tasted had been his
fathers and the second human had been unconscious, so Raziel had no idea why
the girl was so upset. He knew what it felt like to feed and it wasn’t something
to be scared of . . . why was she so frightened?
He opened his mouth as wide as he could manage and bit
into the girl’s soft throat. Even without breaking the skin, something washed
through him, a lust sparked within him and he growled. There was no bone or
cartilage here, but the skin would not tear under his blunt, unformed fangs. His
growl became louder as he became more frustrated, more desperate. He ground his
teeth into the skin and pulled. He purred when he felt it come away in a wet
chunk.
As the first mouthful was swallowed, the girl suddenly
went limp, as if giving up. Raziel felt blood dribbling down his chin as he was
unable to swallow fast enough. He choked a little, then felt the soft hand of
his father rub his throat, calming him, allowing him to swallow what was given.
The girl let out a little gasp and Raziel looked up. His
father’s face was buried in the soft skin of the girl’s stomach; he seemed to
be feeding with delicate licks instead of the noisy suckling Raziel had been
performing. But when he looked up at his child his smile was red and a pulpy
shred of flesh was caught in the corner of his mouth.
Kain looked at his fledgling, blinking at the wide eyes
staring back at him, full of dark hunger, a strange misunderstood lust and a
childish light. Kain smiled a little, remembering something said to him long
ago.
“What?”
Kain asked after Vorador had been staring at him for the past half an hour.
“Hhhhhmmmm,”
Vorador yawned delicately, a cloven claw covering long fangs, shielding them
from sight. Kain smirked and looked back to the book he was idly going over
just for the want of something to do.
“You came
in here a while ago, sat down and have been staring at me since then.” Kain’s
smirk widened. “Tell me, don’t you have something you would rather rest your
eyes on than me?”
Vorador
smiled, his eyes old and tired.
“You have
dark eyes,” Vorador spoke quietly, reaching out, tilting the fledgling’s head
to face him. “They show what you have endured, but despite this there is still
a childish quality to them. I don’t think it’s innocence . . . I can’t quite
put my claw on it but . . . never lose it.” He paused. “It makes you beautiful.”
And with
that, the elder vampire had left, leaving Kain confused, but feeling a little
lighter than he had been in a long time.
“This had better not be one of your tricks, gypsy.” A deep
voice snapped Kain from his memory. Silently, he cursed himself as he heard an
old woman.
“Nah, sir, I saw thems myself, they ‘as got my working
girl.”
Kain sat up, trying to sense how many men there were, whether
to fight or to run. He swallowed. The taste of the girl’s blood lingered in his
mouth like cream. There were to many to fight with his fledgling here; alone,
he could have done it easily, but . . . He glanced at Raziel, still lost in
feeding. He would not risk hurting his child.
As the Serefan burst into the room, Raziel jerked up. The
two vampires faced the group of seven Serefan knights. The silence was thick as
they stared at each other for what felt like forever. Then, Kain lunged, not at
the Serefan but at his child. Wrapping arms around him he uttered the
teleportation spell that would take them safely away.
They appeared a little way down the street
“Who were they?” Raziel asked as he followed his father.
“Serefan,” Kain breathed, annoyed that his spell was not
yet powerful enough to get them further away. Taking his fledgling’s arm, he
began at a quick pace down the street, breaking into a jog.
“Serefan,” Raziel whimpered lightly. His father was angry
. . . it made Raziel afraid; Kain stopped and looked at his child, the anger
slipping away from his features.
“Serefan are humans, but they are hunters. They will kill
you if they can.” He sighed. “But I will look after you, do not be afraid.”
“Why would they hurt me?” Raziel asked, confused.
“We hunt them, they hunt us . . . it is the way of things.
If they catch you they will hurt you badly before allowing you to die. But
first, they will have to catch you.”
“THE DEMONS ARE HERE!” A cry from a little way down the
street echoed, as one of the Serefan raced towards them, foolishly confident.
Raziel yelped as the human bolted towards them, armour
clanking as he moved. His father moved in front of him. Raziel closed his eyes.
He whimpered as he felt heat caress his skin; closing his eyes tighter, the
smell of burning touched his nose and a claw ran through his hair.
“It’s alright,” Kain muttered, leaning forward to nuzzle
his child briefly. Wrapping arms around the quivering fledgling, he tensed and
leapt upwards, landing silently on a rooftop, before making the journey home,
carrying his child.
~
They
laughed bitterly, jabbing at him, mouths open in roars of laughter while he
screamed at them to stop, begged them to let him go, tried to tell them he had
never hurt anyone.
But the
humans still hurt him.
Raziel stirred and whimpered as the nightmare slowly
slipped from him. Blinking wearily, he looked around. He was alone in the red
bed once again. Panic stirred briefly, memories from the nightmare coming back
to life around him.
Jeering smiles, cruel words, pain.
He swallowed and looked about again. He was not alone; his
father was curled on a sofa a little way off. He blinked, confused. Why was his
father over there instead of on the bed with him? Did he not want to be near
him?
Shaking himself, he made to lie down again. If his father
wanted to be alone, then he would leave him alone. At least he was close by.
But as soon as his eyes closed, the laughter, the words, it all came spiralling
up to the surface.
Bare feet touched a cold floor but did not notice it.
Blanket in hand, the fledgling stumbled over to his father and clambered up
next to him. Kain grunted but did not wake. Raziel looked at him for a moment,
studying him, his mouth partly open in sleep, fine bones emerging under the skin
giving him an almost delicate look in sleep and a dangerous one awake. Raziel
smiled a little. His father would keep him safe.
He lay down, pulling the blanket over both of them, laying
his head on the smooth skin of his father’s arm. Still, when he shut his eyes,
the images and laughter pulled up again and he shuddered. He pressed his mouth
to his father’s throat, wanting to bite, wanting the comfort of blood, but
taking it would wake him and it would tear and rip his flesh. He did not want
to have to do that . . . Instead of biting, he just suckled at the skin before
he could sleep.
When he did, no nightmares haunted him.
End of chapter two
Authoress
note: hee! Raziel pulled Kain’s hair out ^_^
Sorry
nothing incredible happened in this chapter but something’s wrong with my
creative brain lately it seems to have fried.