Chapter Text
Samuel had wandered the forest for days weeks months it felt like since that battle. He'd woken up, buried under the corpses of fellow soldiers, somehow feeling not as bad as a half-dead man should've been feeling. The rest of the army was gone, he didn't even know if they'd won or not.
He didn't even know if he cared.
All he'd cared about at first was finding the army, his general, anyone. But then thirst had started to over take him, starting mild at first, but turning into an almost raging inferno as the days grew on.
He'd gulped down what felt like gallons of disgusting river water, even crunching on the snow that had started to fall, but nothing had quenched it. The raging burn had slowly sapped his strength, until he ended up huddled against a leafless tree as snow piled up around him.
He shivered, wrapping his torn, bloodstained army jacket as close as he could. "Why won't it stop make it stop make it stop I just want it to stop." He muttered, shoving a small handful of snow into his mouth. It did nothing to help, and he gave a low whine that morphed into sobbing. "Please..."
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"Hey look at that."
"Oh shit a body! Is it still breathing?"
"I don't know. Should we even check?"
"No, wait! It's moving..."
"Oh good! I was just starting to get thirsty."
"Hey wait I think it's one of us. Seems pretty young too."
"I don't think he's fed recently. Or at all."
"We should bring him back to the castle. He needs help."
"I'll go get Victor. He'll know what to do."
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A warm hand lifted his head, pressing cool glass to his lips. Something warm and sweet entered his mouth, and his chest rose before lowering as he let out a hiss. He shot upright, shoving away whoever was holding him and snatching the bottle, guzzling down the bright red liquid inside.
"Easy does it now." The voice was ignored as he emptied the bottle, then dropped it to the bed he was sitting on as he scanned the room for more. "Well, at least you've got some strength back."
It was then the second voice clicked in Sam's head as his surroundings suddenly came into focus. A more opulent room than he's ever been in, heavy, thick curtains open to show the night outside, and he was seated on a fancy four poster bed. The man beside him had raven hair and piercing white eyes that Sam couldn't help but focus on as he leaned into his view.
He grabbed his face, turning it this way and that as he examined... something. "Well, you don't seem to be on the brink of death anymore. Christopher will be pleased."
"Um..." How to put this nicely, so he wouldn't get kicked out. "Where the hell am I?" Nailed it.
"Castle Becker. Long since abandoned, and taken up as a residence by myself and my brothers."
"Okay..." Deep breaths Sam. "And why am I here?"
"Christopher, Damien, and I were out walking and found you, still as death and half buried in the snow. We brought you back here for treatment." He turned away, heading towards a table and grabbing another bottle of red liquid, which he then handed to Sam. "Here, drink it slower this time. Try and at least savor the taste." He sounded exasperated.
Sam uncorked the bottle, sniffing at the sweet, delicious aroma that rose up from it. "What is this stuff anyways? Some kind of a healing potion?" He asked, taking a swig.
"Blood." Sam vomited instantly, gagging and spluttering. "Ah, so you didn't know."
"What the fuck is wrong with you?!" Sam wiped his mouth, feeling disgusted with himself. "What did you do to me?!"
"Me? Nothing. Another of our kind, however, didn't take the time to finish his meal." Another bottle was handed to him. "You don't have to drink every last one, but I want most of them gone before I get back. And I will be able to tell if you just dump them out the window."
He went to leave, but paused and turned back with what Sam was sure he thought was a kind smile. "And do relax. Take your time. You have quite a lot of it, now."
And with that he left the room, and left the ex soldier alone.
Sam stood from the bed, wobbly and a little dizzy, but able to walk. First, he tried the door but found it locked. The window wasn't, but was so far from the ground that it just wasn't worth it.
Paintings, furniture, and curtains were checked, any odd stone in the wall was pressed, and books were torn from their shelves. But no secret passageway revealed itself to Sam.
He shoved the books back in angrily, out of order, backwards, and upside down. It was a purely spiteful move, born from frustration at his situation, but it did make him feel better.
He sat back on the bed, picking up one of the many bottles of blood. He turned it in his hands, watching the red liquid slosh against the glass, leaving a thin film behind that slowly vanished.
'Disgusting.' He thought, even as he salivated at the sight. He swallowed thickly as he uncorked the bottle, drawing back slightly at the delicious aroma that escaped. He held it away from himself, fighting the urge to down the whole thing like he was chugging a pint of beer.
'Control yourself Samuel!' He brought it to his lips and sipped at it. 'At least try to act civilized dammit!'
He chugged the bottle in less than five seconds.
Dropping it down, he grabbed the next and this time, he succeeded in drinking it slowly like an adult, and not a wild beast. The bottle after that went down just as well, and Sam decided to stop there for now. He had no idea when the man would be back, but he figured three bottles drunk would be enough to keep him happy.
But now there was nothing left to do but sit on the bed. It was a nice bed, at least, with a soft mattress and thick, warm blankets. And curtains! Sam hadn't even been aware that such a thing was possible.
All in all, the room spoke volumes about the kind of wealth his rescuer(rescuers? He did mention two other people) had. It was the kind of wealth that meant he could be a very dangerous enemy for a poor soldier such as Sam.
He wondered what would be asked of him. He thought about a friend who had been seduced by such money when they were younger by a much older man. He had promised a job that would keep him and his family fed for years. Said job had turned out to be that man's sex slave, and he'd not even paid very much.
Sam refused to end up like that. He was going to escape if it killed him.
And that's how Christopher found the previously dying, newly turned vampire hanging from a window. His expression was a mix of regretful and determined, which quickly turned terrified when he noticed Chris staring at him through the glass.
He reacted quickly, opening the window and dragging him back inside. He called for Damian or Victor, whoever was closer, to come help when the man attempted to run out of the room.
Luckily Damian was close by, though Chris was sure his presence only terrified the poor man more. But the larger man was easily able to grab the smaller, forcing him to sit on the couch and stay there while Chris ran and got Vic.
Luckily the older vampire was nearby, and came quickly when Christopher explained what had happened. Luckily, when they get back, they find that Damian's only answered a few questions, and that Sam doesn't seem too terrified or anything. Apprehensive, of course, but no longer looking scared for his life.
"Didn't I tell you not to go out the window?" The older man asked, exasperated. "No, no, that was the blood. I said not to dump the blood out the window." He quietly corrected himself a second later.
"Maybe you should have told him not to jump." Damian was quick to joke. "At least not until he can fly."
"Damian, shut up." Christopher cut in. "Victor, just leave him to me. I'll explain things tomorrow."
"Ah, if you're sure." The older man- vampire- didn't seem too sure himself, but stepped back from Sam. "I'll leave you to it, then."
"I'd do a better job than you." Christopher muttered with a sigh. He looked over at San, gesturing for him to follow. "Come on, then. The sun will be up soon and it's time for bed."
Sam almost refused, but the bigger guy shoved him off the couch and left him no choice. He followed Christopher grumpily, still searching for a new way to escape.
But no way revealed itself, and they were back in front of the room Sam woke up in before long. Rather than just leaving him there, Christopher also went into the room to make sure the window and curtains were closed.
"Do not open these while the sun is up." He said as he tugged them closed. He collected the bottles, full and empty, gathering them in his arms. "I'll bring you fresh in the evening, this will be bad by then. Try and get some sleep, because your training also starts in the evening."
"Training?" Training for what? Was he going to fighting again? Sam certainly hoped not.
"Yes, training." He paused, seeming to think. "But, I'll also answer all of your questions then. At least, the ones I know the answers to."
Sam didn't know what to say to that, so he just watched the other man finish up his tidying and leave. He was thankful, though, for the offer of answers. He'd been so confused since he'd woken up.
At least tomorrow he'd finally have some answers.