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Alek didn't realize dying would be this… Numb. As a soldier, he expected to go out fighting, taking a mortal wound for his lord and dying a hero. In a way, this was how he was going out. He was going out fighting, not that he really wanted to.
But he wasn't going to die a hero.
He had stabbed his lord, his friend, the man who he loved the most. He had taken a vow to protect him, and somehow, he’d broken that oath.
Adrenaline must be one hell of a drug.
One of the last things Alek felt as he slipped into the bittersweet embrace of the dark was the rain on his face, the blood oozing out of his neck, and the look in Strahd's eyes as his own clouded.
He’d never seen that look on his face before.
It didn't belong there; he wanted to wipe it away. He wanted to paint over it like a canvas, creating strokes of joy like the small grins at Aleks jokes and the occasional laugh when they were alone.
The small moments where Strahd was actually…happy. The one thing Alek wanted most.
There wasn't anything he could do. He was dying, slipping into whatever hell awaited him.
He wanted to claw and scream and fight his way back, ripping anyone apart that stood in his way. But he just didn't have the strength anymore.
Then there was a laugh, his laugh.
But it was different, sinister. Not the laugh that he knew.
“There's a traitor in the camp… Alek.”
Alek knew that; he so desperately tried to warn Strahd, but it was too late. He couldn't get the words to form; all that he could get out was the gurgles of blood pouring out from his mouth. All he could taste was the iron.
“You didn't stop him, Alek.”
Alek had run up to Strahd's room to warn him but ended up in the wrong place at the wrong time. Gods, he should’ve just cut Leo's traitorous head clean off his shoulders, placing it on a pike to parade around like the rest of them. He wanted to give that honour to Strahd and see justice be served the right way.
Maybe if he had just gone another way, broken in before whatever deal Strahd made was complete. He should’ve tried harder to bring him back from the edge; he should have noticed how reclusive Strahd had become, more than the usual. He should’ve done…something, instead of standing around doing nothing-
“You still can.”
Alek wasn't sure what he heard. Somehow the darkness around him seemed darker and closing in on him, the voice getting closer. He felt as if he was choking, gasping for air that hadn’t entered his lungs in a while. He felt alive, but dead. Stronger but weaker at the same time.
“Don't you want to protect me, Alek? His knife points close to my chest; all he has to do is lunge. You can stop him, Alek.”
The voice was so close he could feel the breath on his cheek, whispering in his ear. He could stop him. Bypass the rules of nature itself just for his lord, just for Strahd.
“Retreat into your instincts. Become the monster you once were again.”
He’d do anything, give anything; he’d give his very soul to whatever god or creature wanted it for a chance to save him.
Anything.
The first thing Alek saw when his eyes split open was darkness. He glanced down at his hands, barely visible in the light, but he could see them. He turned them over, feeling his skin, up to his arms, and finally up to his neck. There lay a faint line, now fully healed over.
He was also damp. He wasn't completely covered head to toe in water like he expected, but it seemed some of it had dried. Time must have passed. Gods, how long has he been gone? He might be too late.
Alek reached forward, feeling his surroundings before two doors swung open and he stumbled out of what he now realised was Strahd's closet.
He took a second to orient himself.
He was in Strahd's room. It was exactly how he remembered; even the pools of wax from the candles Strahd had lit were still there.
Then he heard the sound of a door swinging open, men entering from somewhere.
But it wasn't in this room; it sounded further away. Somehow, he could hear what was happening downstairs.
Alek shook off the sense of dread pooling in his gut and made his way down to the source of the sounds.
After practically propelling himself down each stairwell, he made it just outside the chapel. He could smell it before he even saw the carnage in the room.
He could smell the pooling blood, the death, the fear.
Leo did make his move then.
He didn't have time to plan; he’d figure out what to do when he got in there. He’d only have to hold himself back from ripping Leo's head off right then and there.
The doors to the chapel were left wide open, allowing Alek to get a swift glance at who was in there before he decided to announce his entry.
Leo was recovering from what looked like a fight, rubbing his throat and making some sort of signal to the guards around him. The body of Ivan and the smell of his blood drew Aleks' attention. From what Alek could tell, he went down fighting. Ivan was a good man.
The next person he noticed was Strahd.
He was lying on the floor; remnants of blood still clung to his clothes. Alek could feel his blood run cold at the sight. He was pale, too pale to be living. The voices said he could save him. Had they lied? This cannot be.
The guards dragging out Ivan's body quickly noticed Alek, their eyes widening as they signaled to their traitorous leader.
The sight of his face made Alek sick. That smug grin that grew on his face after he fully understood what was in front of his eyes made Alek want to tear it off and shove it down his throat.
“Commander Gwilym! Been looking for you; thought you ran off like a coward.”
Alek sneered. Leo knew for a fact Alek would never even dream of such a thing; it's why he said it. He was observant; he’d give him that.
“But you wouldn’t, would you? The most loyal dog in the pound. You can die with the rest of them.”
Alek could feel a shove behind him, a hand pushing him towards the crowd like an executioner would a victim to the gallows.
Alek was no victim; the roles would be reversed. He would make it as slow and as painful as possible.
Alek fell to his knees next to Strahd's side, looking over his body. He looked the same, almost. Apart from the arrow holes littering his clothing and his unusually pale skin.
Strahd's eyes finally ripped away from the ceiling, taking in the man seated next to him. The more he looked, the more impossible it seemed.
“Alek…? No, you should not be here. This is-”
Alek shushed him with a small smile, placing his hand lightly on Strahd's arm. He’d done this so many times, in fact a couple hours ago. It was different this time. It was deeper this time.
“I know, Strahd. It should be impossible, but the thing you talked to in your chambers…it talked to me; it gave me a chance to save you.”
All Strahd let out was a painful scoff, a look of self-pity clouding his eyes.
“It is too late. I am far beyond saving, commander.”
Alek rolled his eyes, tightening his grip on his lord's arm ever so slightly.
“Yeah, well, not if I have anything to say about it.”
Strahd let out another scoff, this one more akin to a laugh, perhaps even a sob.
“You have damned your soul for me, gods damn it, when will you ever cease playing bodyguard?”
“I would damn my soul 100 times over for you, my lord.” Alek whispered in return, a fond smile on his face as he locked eyes with Strahd.
Strahd wore a sort of smile, looking into Alek’s eyes for what seemed to be hours. He searched his soul, his mind, his heart, looking for some trace of treason or betrayal etched onto his heart.
He found nothing; he would find nothing. Alek held nothing but love and adoration for Strahd. How could he hold anything else?
Two souls that felt like one, the only two that really seemed to understand each other with just a glance.
Strahd slowly moved to sit up, and Alek reached his hand to place it on the man's back. Strahd took a second, his eyes darting around erratically before he finally conjured the strength to move to his feet.
Strahd stumbled as he stood up, Alek immediately darted his hands to Strahd's side to catch him.
Strahd gave Alek a nod of appreciation before turning his eyes towards the nearest guard.
They clearly hadn’t expected Strahd to get up, let alone stand on his two feet. But Strahd was quick, too quick for the guard to fully comprehend his fate.
Strahd was in front of the guard in the blink of an eye, spinning him around with an arm latched around the front of his torso. The man kicked, screamed, pleaded, but Strahd couldn't ignore the gnawing hunger deep in his gut.
He slowly raised the man up, far enough that Strahd didn't have to reach down too much to reach his neck.
With a quick motion, Strahd bit deeply into the man's flesh, the blood popping out of his veins only providing him further strength against the man's attempts to escape until he stopped trying at all.
Alek took this as his cue to act.
The other guard closest to them was too struck with horror watching the scene unfold to notice Aleks approach.
To say Alek felt different would be an understatement.
All he could feel was the anger, the betrayal, the bloodlust growing too great to ignore. It was almost a voice, whispering in his mind like nails on a chalkboard. It was telling him to kill, to abandon his humanity and give into his bestial instinct.
At this moment, he wanted nothing more.
Alek began to stumble, taking more lunging steps towards this man who was still hypnotized in his buddy's murder. He could feel his bones reshaping, the joints popping and reconnecting elsewhere. His face grew longer, and his teeth grew to sharp points. A sudden feeling of warmth as blonde fur coated his body.
His point of view slowly increased until he was almost towering over the man in front of him, low growls issuing from his clenched jaws.
The guard suddenly thought it wise to turn to look in front of him, dropping the crossbow in his hands as he finally met Alek’s piercing gaze. That animalistic look in Alek’s eyes was the last thing that man would ever see as Alek tore into his throat with his bare teeth.
The blood of that man was not enough, he needed more. So much more.
The rest of Leo’s lackeys made a run for the doors, some spilling out into the cold night beyond. Fortunately, some managed to fall behind. Tripping over themselves, stuck in a state of shock, or being pushed to the floor by their traitorous comrades.
How ironic.
The ones that fell behind, their blood now coated the floors.
Alek glanced down at his hands, now misshapen claws. He turned them over, his eyes trailing the slick blood still clinging to his fur.
Strahd had gone up to Victor Wachter, who had just finished furiously defending what was left of his family.
Victor was given instructions, most of which Alek didn't hear.
He was too busy looking at the survivors, scanning. At least not all of them were taken, it would ease Alek’s guilt later on.
He could already feel it gnawing at his gut, the failure of not being able to stop Leo in time.
He was pulled out of his train of thought by a soft hand on his shoulder. He glanced down, locking eyes with Strahd.
Strahd smiled, gesturing for Alek to bring his head lower.
Alek obeyed, and felt Strahd's hand caress the fur atop his head. He suddenly understood why dogs wanted to be pet every time he encountered one.
A low chuckle emerged from Strahd's throat, moving his hand to Alek’s furry jaw.
“I never expected you to take your role so seriously… Well, we have a few to finish off.”
Strahd looked towards the door, and the beckoning void of the night.
“First to finish off three?”
Alek gave Strahd a look, accepting his challenge. This man had no idea how hard he was about to lose.
Strahd let out a laugh, patting the side of Alek’s jaw. “I know that look. Don't let your ego get ahead of you, Gwilym.”
Strahd began advancing towards the door, giving Victor a look as he passed the man.
Alek chased after him, bounding into the darkness as Strahd followed.
He wasn't going to let him have a head start, not this time.