Chapter Text
Oliver Fairmont was a good person.
Or at least, he was always meant to be. He wanted to be.
His greatest mistake was trusting.
As children, Elinor and Oliver were inseparable, attached at the hip. Their mother used to joke that they were so closely bonded, they even had to be born together.
They were supposed to be able to trust each other.
That was Elinor’s greatest strength: her ability to be trusted. Her smooth words and easy smile and kind eyes made her easy to believe. They had that in common. Oliver learned too late that, while his smiles and goodwill were genuine, hers were nothing more than a mask. It made her every betrayal seem like a kindness. She had a way of snaking her will into his, her words forever rotting in his mind.
What do you think is in that shell?
If you really love Mr. Green, wouldn’t you want to see what makes him tick?
If our dear parents didn’t want you to eat her, they wouldn’t have had us see a human therapist. After all, they know just how dangerous it is to lock someone that tasty in a room with a poor parched vampire. Drain her and you won’t have to take those yucky pills anymore.
It’ll be easy.
It’s just instinct.
It’s your right.
If you love something, you deserve to take its heart
We aren’t monsters, it’s just in our nature.
You’re just doing what you were born to do.
Go ahead
Tear them apart
Take what’s yours
There was a blur in his memory. A series of blurs, a hazy gauze covering so much of his childhood.
He never understood why their parents never made the connection once they found out about Elinor's special talent. Then again, it took him so long to piece it together himself. For the longest time, even Oliver himself was convinced that he was inherently evil. What else could he think? After all, they were all killers.
So why was he the only one to be treated like a monster?
It wasn’t just his first kill. Sure, Margot and Sebastian had been upset about him draining the therapist, but only because there was the possibility of it being traced back to them. With a few phone calls and string pulls, it was swept under the rug easily. That wasn’t the breaking point.
“I know you’re feeling upset about it, dear brother,” Elinor had said, in her sly and gentle way, “but don’t you feel better now? Your first kill is difficult for everyone, it’s meant to change you. For the better. You just need some more practice. Lucky for you, your sister is much more experienced. How about a night on the town, get your feet wet.”
“I don’t need practice, El.” Oliver had protested. “I just fed, won’t need another for a while.”
“You don’t need to feel embarrassed about it. You know, it doesn’t always have to be about necessity. Sometimes, it can be about fun. I’ve been doing it for years. We’re legacies, it’s our birthright. We’re above them. No one’s going to be mad at you for having a little fun.”
He didn't know how she’d convinced him, but he remembered ending up at a pool hall, watching his sister shamelessly flirt with an entire bachelor party.
Then he remembered entrails on the pavement and blood on his hands.
Elinor was at his side when he came to, rubbing his shoulder comfortingly. “Look at this mess. I suppose just one kill wasn’t enough for you after all, huh? You feel better now though, don’t you?”
That one had gotten him into quite a bit more trouble. A month of strict lockdown to drill into his head that feeding does not mean maiming. That they do what they do out of a need for survival, not sadistic satisfaction. That their comfortable life was contingent on blending in. He heard so many quiet conversations behind locked doors: concern for him, fear of what he may become.
As if he had wanted to do that.
As if he had done it alone.
When he was finally let out of lockdown, he was careful. So careful. For months he fed just enough to stay alive. He felt sick to his stomach each time, terrified that the bloodlust would take over again and he would go too far.
“You need to keep that appetite of yours in check,” Elinor would say. “You don’t want to have another incident. I don’t think they’d let it slide a second time.”
Then, strike two. He woke up one night in the middle of the woods, covered head to toe in gore. And full. He managed to make it back home without being spotted and went to the one person he knew would understand. She had always been so understanding. She had calmed him down and promised to help cover for him, all the while planting that fear deeper in his mind.
“You really don’t remember any of it? Wow. It must be scary, having bloodlust that intense, losing control like that. At least you have me. You know I’ll always help. No matter what you end up doing, you can always come to me.”
It still disturbed him that a body was never found after that night.
The breaking point came when he was found over the body of his first girlfriend, her jugular ripped out as if by a wild animal, her chest torn open and heart nowhere to be found. He was discovered nearly catatonic, shaking like a leaf and kneeling in a pool of her blood, tears mixing with the crimson spatter on his cheeks.
This time, Elinor wasn’t at his side when he came to. She was at theirs. Her voice was the soundtrack to his banishment.
“I don’t know what got into him, he just went feral.”
Why wasn’t she standing up for him?
“I don’t think it’s safe to keep him around.”
She promised I could trust her.
“We feed, we don’t maim, this isn’t right”
You said you’d help me.
“Can’t you see? He’s a monster!”
You said I did nothing wrong.
“I saw the whole thing.”
I don’t remember.
“I couldn’t stop him.”
I didn’t do it
“He’s out of control.”
It’s a lie
“He can’t be trusted.”
Why won’t anyone believe me?
“He’s a monster.”
I’m just what you made me
“It wasn’t me,” He hoarsely protested through tears as they chained him up, “I didn’t-“ He realized that he really didn’t know the truth. He didn’t know what he had really done. He couldn’t remember.
He desperately looked to Elinor. She always had answers.
It was like she was dead behind those eyes, identical to his but devoid of any soul. “I watched it happen. He’s a danger to himself. To all of us.” Behind their backs, she shot him a wink. That was all he needed to know exactly what she was doing.
He broke.
He lurched at her in blind rage, bloodied fangs bared, screaming and cursing and hissing and spitting. When he broke through the chains, he had needed to be restrained by Sebastian as Margot stood in front of her daughter for protection. He could see it now, they were terrified of him. Elinor had slithered into their brains just like she had his. It was her. This whole time, their whole life, she was just pulling his strings.
Why?
That was all the proof Margot needed of his ‘true nature’. He was cast out, banished with an order never to return. They shipped him off halfway across the world.
That was when he decided to finally live up to expectations.
If he was a monster in their eyes, then a damn good one he would become. He would make them pay.