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It was a gloomy, cloudy day. The perfect for their kind.
Normally, you wouldn’t ever think to see one of theirs to be out during the daylight hours. Even for fledglings, the dark, gray clouds wouldn’t be enough to shield them from the rays. Their fragile, otherworldly skin needed time to develop to that of their seniors. They would often need to come out only at night, just to guarantee their safety for their own well being. However, Epel was not one of their own…at least, not yet.
For now, the lavender haired boy could roam the gardens without a care in the world. He wouldn’t have to worry about the sun hurting him. He could play as much as he liked and traverse the estate with the only concern on his mind being that of which corner he wanted to explore today. The vastness of their property the biggest part of his world, as he had yet to see more from the outside. All he knew was right here.
As Vil purposefully kept it that way. His most protected, gilded bird.
From the moment he was held within his arms as just a little baby, Vil felt a maternal, protective kinship towards the boy. Strange, considering that he made no bonds with humans otherwise. Their kind wasn’t supposed to. Usually, the only surge of emotion that he had towards them was to sink his fangs into their necks. The hunting instinct that he had to keep himself alive, well, and healthy. An urge that he grew to resist the stronger he got over the decades.
Which was fortunate for Epel. If his adoptive mother wasn’t as seasoned as he was, who knows what kind of fate he would’ve been victim to when he was presented to the matriarch of the Schoenheit family. A present from the hunter consort of said matriarch. For he too, felt a particular kinship towards such a pretty baby.
“My queen…”
And speaking of which…
No matter how many years they spent with each other, Vil would never come to understand how his consort could sneak up on him. That should’ve been impossible, considering that he was one of his own. Vil had an acute sense of all life forces around him, especially those that he held dear. Because even as he turned away from the glass paneled window, he knew exactly where Epel was in the gardens below. He could hear his heartbeat and pulse clearly as though he were next to him in their estate instead of being in the third story window of their gothic home. One of his many powers that had gotten so powerful the older he got. Otherwise, it wouldn’t be wise to leave a child who looked no older than eight to be left to his own devices.
Vil turned and those bright, unnatural eyes of his regarded his hunter who was behind him, already down on one knee, hat off his head and over his chest, out of respect. Something that he hardly had to be taught, an instinct all those beneath Vil should have. Mortal and immortal alike.
“Rook, you may stand.” the matriarch regarded him. And the hunter did as he was told with a smile.
“Thank you, my love. You look as radiant as ever.” Rook happily complimented as he put his hat back on. No matter how many times in a day he would say something so sweet, Vil knew that he meant it wholeheartedly each time. Rook’s craftsmanship with his words might have been as keen as his hunting.
But the hunter was right. Vil looked as elegant as he always did. He was dressed in deep, moody hues of indigo, the robes he wore specifically tailored for his form. There was a sort of regal beauty to him that rivaled that of royal blood that had been bred throughout several generations. Any unsuspecting person would think Vil to not be older than the age of twenty considering his youthful appearance, how foolish they would be, as he passed that age almost four times by now. That blonde hair of his, hued with unusual hints of pink was pulled back in a well made braid.
Vil allowed Rook the privilege to take his hand, kissing the back of it tenderly. Regardless of how close they were, as close as a matriarch could get to his consort, Rook always insisted on acting like a gentleman. A standard that always touched Vil, despite how beautifully statuesque his expression would be.
“What are you hiding from me?” the queen asked, a hint of amusement laced in his words.
Rook straightened and with the motion, his smile brightening. If Vil hadn’t known better, he would’ve thought all the world’s sunshine was in that expression rather than behind the clouds. “Clever as always, my queen–I can’t keep anything from you, not that I would ever dream of it,” the hunter added with sincerity weighing into his words.
The hunter did in fact, keep holding something behind his back. The hand that wasn’t insistent on still holding Vil’s own tucked there, until, he pulled it out to reveal the not very well kept secret he had been holding out on from his matriarch. “Violà! I thought that my beautiful queen, should get something almost as beautiful as he.”
Vil couldn’t help himself, a small gasp escaped his painted lips and he brightened with surprise. This wouldn’t be the first time Rook had given him flowers, but this bouquet of roses he presented was stunning. They all were pretty enough to be captured in a painting, forever immortalized by the expert hand of a painter who would tastefully replicate their beauty. The deep reds of the flowers reminded Vil of the color of some of his favorite wines, rich and tasteful. The petals were full and rounded like that of a pretty lady’s lips, soft and velvety to the touch. Similar to the matriarch’s own.
“My hunter, these are gorgeous…” Vil remarked as he gratefully accepted the bouquet. A smile touched his lips, which in turn, made Rook’s own turn all the wider. The matriarch clasped the roses, noticing that the stems were already dethorned. No doubt by Rook’s own doing, he never missed a detail like that.
Vil held them in front of his chest, where a warmth had been blossoming regardless of how many times Rook went out of his way to do romantic gestures like this towards him. As if he was still that young, hopeless human that was trying to court someone out of his species and mortality. He looked at him over the rim of the roses, hiding that smile of his–but his joyful, bright eyes did not lie. “Thank you, Rook.”
“My pleasure, Vil…” the hunter replied, resoundingly happy.
The matriarch bowed his head, burying his shapely nose into the petals. He took an inhale, expecting the scent that he had come to know from other roses he had smelled. The floral familiar scent infiltrated his senses, before a strange, but other known smell hinted at the undertones…
Vil thought he must have been mistaken. His brows knitted in surprise, as he took another smell. There it was again. That coppery smell tainted the floral scent, to anyone else–it might have been a cause for alarm. Roses weren’t supposed to smell like this. Were they deceased? They certainly didn’t look the part. If the scent wasn’t something that Vil was so intimately familiar with, he would’ve found it offensive. Maybe even sickening. Instead, he raised his eyes above the flowers, and met that of his hunter’s who was staring expectantly back.
“Rook, where did you–”
“I grew them myself!” Rook proudly answered, as if he had been waiting for the question. Vil’s hunter had many hobbies, so he wasn’t surprised at that fact, but he didn’t interrupt as he continued his explanation. “Your senses are impeccable as always. You see, I wasn’t satisfied with how some of the roses I had been cultivating in the garden weren’t up to the standards I thought they could be. So, I experimented with a…particular nutrient that they seemed to take a liking to.”
Vil straightened. “You don’t mean…”
“Oh but I do,” Rook finished for him. “Imagine my surprise too when they took to blood like we do! I hope they’re up to your immaculate expectations, my love. Don’t worry,” he raised a gloved finger. “I made sure that the blood I used wasn’t from our reserves, I personally found the resources I needed elsewhere.” he said with his smile turning sly, his eyes squinting.
This gesture became all the more touching. The warmth that had been growing in his chest flourished into a garden of its own within his chest and between his ribs, similar to the one the roses had grown in. Roses weren’t that of the floral variety that could grow in a few weeks time. Rook had planned this years ago. And while years passed by like the months would for a mortal, it made all the careful planning the hunter had done all the more sweet to Vil. He was lucky to have the hunter as his consort–and lover.
“You’re unbelievable, Rook…” Vil breathlessly laughed, turning his head to the side, as though that could hide the flush that was starting to taint his cheeks. Rook tilted his own head, his blonde fringe following the motion too.
“Unbelievable is what I think whenever I think of you, my queen!” he lovingly declared. He took a step up to Vil, which would’ve been a bold move to anyone who wasn’t he, and put his hands on the dip of the matriarch’s hips. “So–you like our gift then? Is it to your liking?” he asked hopefully.
Vil shook his head, the loose fringe of his that didn’t get into his braid shaking too. That smile of his peeled enough to reveal some of his teeth. Almost to the point of showing off those dangerous fangs of his. “Yes it is, I like your…” he blinked, pausing in his own sentence. He turned to look at Rook. “Wait…our gift?”
“Oui,” Rook answered with a squeeze to his hips. “Our gift.”
Vil stared at him, his smile falling the more his puzzlement began to rise. “Whom are you…?”
“Why–turn around, my love!” Rook insisted. And Vil did, with the help of the hunter’s hold on him, doing the motion that he suggested. Vil looked back out the window, as though the answer would be written plainly in front of him on the glass. When he didn’t see any, he glanced over the world beneath them. And then, that’s when he spotted him.
There was a stutter to his heart as he looked right at Epel. The only living soul around. The boy was blissfully unaware of the exchange happening and was much more preoccupied trying to find bugs underneath the rocks he was lifting. Epel was on his bare knees, tongue sticking out, as he sadly discovered an absence of bugs once again. So he opted to lift for the next one beside it.
Vil rounded on Rook with a wild, angry look in his eye that wasn’t lost on the consort. His eyes looked unnaturally dark, dangerous. Rook lifted his hands up and off of the matriarch as if he had suddenly burnt him. “Rook–if you so much just hurt that boy…!” he warned as grim as the expression on his face.
“Non–non, I wouldn’t have dreamed of it!” Rook quickly insisted, hoping that would dispel the turn of anger. When it didn’t, he hastily explained more. “You’ve got the wrong impression, Epel helped me take care of the flowers! You know I promised I wouldn’t take a drop of his blood, my love. I wouldn’t break that vow nor any I’ve made to you!”
Vil’s anger quelled, but only some, there still was a visible tightness to his jawline and he bore his teeth at Rook. Those sharp fangs of his were showing. A dangerous, challenging expression for their kind to do to one another. One that often resulted in dueling. Rook wouldn’t ever humor the idea of fighting his own queen, even if it meant saving his own life. There was a deep, mournful frown on his face.
“My queen, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you–any blood that might have been spilt on those flowers from Epel was one of a pure accident, when he might have pricked a finger or two when he helped me tend to them…” Rook explained. “I never would have done it on purpose. Never.”
The stems of the roses shook underneath the tightening grip of Vil. How they hadn’t broken yet, was quite surprising. Vil might have not been the most physically imposing matriarch, but that didn’t accurately measure his strength or prowess. Just when it seemed that the queen would lunge to tear out Rook’s jugular, he relaxed and calmed himself down. He expelled a billowing, long sigh. Now, looking just as remorseful as his hunter.
“Rook I…I’m sorry,” he apologized quietly. Obviously embarrassed with himself and looking down. “I just…I…”
“You don’t have to explain, or apologize, Vil.” the consort answered, hushing his voice to match the level of the matriarch’s. He didn’t hesitate to reach out, touching Vil’s shoulders and hoping to rub out the tension there. “If anything, I apologize. My phrasing was terrible and…I realize that now. I hope you can forgive me.”
“There’s nothing to forgive.” Vil hopelessly smiled but the expression faded fast. “I’m a paranoid fool. I have a hard time trusting anyone with that boy…even myself.” he confessed that last part a bit quietly, as though they had an audience to keep secrets from. It was just them alone in that long, dark hallway. A matriarch and his consort.
Rook tilted his head. “But you’re the one who protects him the most…”
“It’s true, I am. But that doesn’t mean it isn’t hard,” Vil explained. He looked out the window again, turning his head to the side and watching the little boy below. Epel had given up on the idea of finding bugs, and now was stacking all the rocks he had been up turning into a little fort of his own design.
“He reminds me a lot of you, when I wanted to claim you too,” the matriarch continued his explanation. He could feel Rook’s eyes on him as he spoke. “The urge gets stronger every day–as though he’ll…slip away from me if I don’t. It’s this…ugly possessive nature that I have trouble controlling. But unlike you, I….” Vil clutched the roses a little tighter. “I don’t want to accidentally turn him too young…that wouldn’t be fair to him…”
There was a thoughtful pause. “I see…” Rook simply replied. He kept trying to search for Vil’s gaze with his own. When it wouldn’t come, he took the cheek that was furthest from him, the one that faces the window. “My queen, look at me please.”
At first, Vil didn’t look back at him, but eventually, did. Those pink eyes of his looked sad.
“It’s because you know that he belongs to us–our family, to you.” Rook began to tell him. “You can sense what is inevitably going to happen to that boy. What you must do. It’s a part of his destiny to become one of us. You’re stronger than any of our kind and must trust yourself not to change him too quickly. Because I trust in you. Your judgment on when that time will come, will be right.”
There was that smile of Rook’s again. The kind that could brighten the darkest of days and quell any worries that he could face. Vil was so happy that when Rook had changed, the parts of him that made him him didn’t either. This kind of reassurance was exactly what he needed. Despite being an all powerful, vampiric queen, Vil wasn’t exempt to his own insecurities and worries. This vulnerability was only exposed to his most trusted confidant, his hunter.
Vil couldn’t help the smile that he bestowed onto Rook. And that expression wasn’t lost on Rook either.
“My dearest hunter, what would I do without you?” he purred and a unmistakeable warmth acted as a hearth to his words.
“Non, what would I do without you…!” Rook countered lovingly. And he stroked the shapely cheekbone of his queen underneath his gloved thumb in admirance. “You’ve given this fool hearted hunter purpose, one that I will fulfill in all my days I get to spend with you. And if there aren’t any at your side, then I don’t see a point in living them at all!”
Vil laughed. “You’ve already told me that, when you practically begged me to turn you on your hands and knees…”
“And I’ll keep reminding you–I can do it again on my hands and knees if you wish,” Rook coyly said, amusement pressed into the back of his words. The worst part was, Vil knew that he would. This loyalty of Rook’s was one he had even before their otherworldly bond took place.
The queen admiringly stared at his hunter, who did the same back at him and slowly turned his attention back out the window. Epel, still unaware of their conversation and the future ahead of him, knocked over the rock fort he had just made with a triumphant roar. The boy had a knack of entertaining himself. A trait that mingled well with his personality and age. Vil watched him as a mother would over her babe. Rook was doing the same, happily smiling and clutching his hands now over Vil’s wrists. They looked like a beautiful pair of proud parents, the roses stuck in between their chests.
Still staring at Epel, Vil bowed his head forward and hovered his nose above the roses. He inhaled, the floral scent combined with that of copper greeting him once more. This time, much more comforting than the last. He didn’t know how long he and Rook had stood there, watching their boy play by himself. And Epel wouldn’t know either.
Vil, the vampire queen, would always have his hunter, his future prodigy, and his bloody roses.