Archive of Our Own ^beta

Victor slumps down on a fallen log behind Camp Rayburn, his bag dragging in the dirt beside him. He sits there for a long moment, trying to sort through everything all at once, but his thoughts are too scattered, emotions wrung too tightly.

He doesn't realize he's not alone until it's too late, rough hands slipping around his arms and yanking him to his feet.

He panics for a moment, struggling to find his footing, dark stone flaring red, only for his power to dissipate just as quickly as he had summoned it.

The Eldress steps out from between the trees, and the knot forming in Victor's stomach only worsens.

"Auntie," he calls out weakly, feigning a grin. "Back so soon?"

A quick glance to either side of him reveals older vampires that have stood at her side for decades, followers of the old ways through and through. One holds his arm tight enough that their nails dig into his skin, while the other reaches for his dark stone necklace and rips it from around his neck. Victor holds back his flinch.

"Victor," the Eldress spits, tone echoing through the forest beyond. His mouth snaps shut as he's compelled to do nothing but listen. "I thought I could trust you. Instead, I have to find out from someone else that you were working with our enemies?"

Victor wants to speak, to fight the only way he knows how, but the words stay just out of reach.

"Have you learned nothing?" She nearly yells, taking a step closer, necklaces flaring with color. She stares at him like he's nothing more than a bother, lips pulling with obvious disgust. "I'm done playing these games with you, nephew. It's time you learned a real lesson."

All at once, Victor can speak again, words pressing at his throat, fear twisting his gut so sharply that he thinks he might be sick. "You can trust me, I swear you can trust me. I was just trying to - to see what I could find out. You don't have to - to do anything. I already know all the lessons, all the mistakes, and I won't make another one, I promise - "

He's stuttering before he can catch himself, but the Eldress doesn't miss it. In fact, she seems to take joy in his panic, hands folding over each other calmly, her eyes watching him carefully. When she has had enough of his blubbering, she smiles, a cruel little thing that he is used to and still scares him all the same.

"I don't think you need your fangs, Victor," she states, as cold as the air around them. "If you want to be a daywalker, then so be it."

Victor fights all the way to the dungeon, heart thrashing against his ribcage.

It doesn't matter what he does, because he is still dragged down step by step, rats scurrying underfoot as the Eldress silently leads the way. The vampires on either side of him are all but carrying him with bruising grips as the darkness grows around them the deeper they go, torches barely flickering with life when they finally reach the bottom, boots slipping against grime.

The dungeons themselves are a beast Victor knows all too well, but even this is something he's never thought of, never worried about in a way that could become real. The Eldress hasn't spared him another glance since they have left the camp, and both men have been deaf to his pleading. He's dragged forward once more, left instead of right, plunged into a darkness that has him second guessing where they are, his eyes struggling to make shapes from shadows. He doesn't know how far they go, only that he is suddenly stopped, and all is still for a long moment.

When the light comes, it blinds him, making him wince and squeeze his eyes shut. His body is shoved down, back snapping against metal. His arms are caught in something with a heavy click, and when he opens his eyes, he almost wishes he couldn't see again with the various terrifying things that meet him.

Looking down he sees that he is in a chair, and his arms are restrained, but no vampires linger in his sight, instead moving around behind him. They murmur to each other in tones he can't make out and Victor's heart jumps into his throat when he hears something clink together.

"Auntie, please," he begs, not for the first time, voice slipping into a desperate tone he doesn't recognize as his own. "Please don't do this. I'll be good, I swear, you won't ever have to worry about me. I'll do everything right, everything, just please don't - "

"Enough." The Eldress snaps, followed by another sharp metallic sound. "Hold him still."

"Auntie, please," Victor says, even as he is pulled back, cold hands holding tightly to either side of his head, nails digging painfully into skin as a warning. "Please - "

The second vampire reaches for his mouth, hooking a finger on the side and pulling hard enough that it shocks him into silence, his other hand pressing hard on the bottom of his jaw. Victor blinks and then the Eldress is above him, holding something small and silver with a rounded end.

Her eyes are empty as she stares down at him for a long moment, Victor's chest already heaving, arms jerking from under their restraints as panic pushes him to try and move, to do something, anything, but he is more helpless than he has ever been, and everyone in this room knows it.

He tries to speak. The noise chokes in his throat.

"You would be wise to remember this lesson," she tells him, knuckles pinching white around the silver tool as she moves closer and closer still, "and if you do, maybe you won't starve as a second one."

The tool presses against his first fang, hooking around it with ease, and the Eldress wastes no time. She pulls at it and Victor's entire world lights on fire, a muffled sound escaping him before he can attempt to stop it. The pain snaps through him like electricity, burning at his gum as she tugs harshly at something that isn't meant to move, and then she stops, and he thinks that it's over for a blissful moment, broken gasps rasping from his chest.

And then the Eldress pulls again, and again, and again.

By the time she is able to pull his first fang free, blood trickles from the corner of his lip down to his chin, and he nearly chokes on the rest of it, bubbling from an open wound that throbs with the force of it, the Eldress stepping back to admire the fang she holds with her bloody tool.

The vampires holding Victor down let go of him and his stomach immediately reacts from the pain and the horror as he spits blood and bile onto the floor, his jaw alight, his entire body on fire, his mouth aching, and he doesn't realize he's crying until he sees the first tear hit the ground, followed by another.

His stomach squeezes, but nothing else comes out. His head pounds, his wrists already rubbed raw from the way his body had twisted and turned.

He stares at the blood and wonders how much his body holds, and just how much the Eldress plans to take.

"Please," he tries, the word slurring against lips that have forgotten how to move. "Stop, please, please - "

"No," the Eldress says, and the vampires grab him and shove him back, and pain is all Victor knows once more.

.

.

.

He doesn't know how long it's been by the time the Eldress throws the final fang onto the floor with the rest, the tool following as she scowls in disgust.

Victor floats in and out of his own darkness, blood stained across his clothes like a second skin, his hands trembling from where they rest. His body jerks on its own accord every now and then, reliving the horrors it's been put through, and his mouth is far from numb, every sudden burst of pain like skin pressing against barbed wire.

The Eldress says something to him, but he doesn't register the words, the world around him slipping and turning. What he thinks is a door slams shut in the far distance. He doesn't even realize he's freed from the chair until his body slumps forward and he hits the floor.

He lays there, unable to do much.

He lays there and thinks about everything that had led to this moment, and knows he would do it all over again, as long as it meant he did what he was always supposed to. In between the shadows that float in and out of his vision and the darkness that swims in the corners of his eyes, he sees his fangs, laying on the floor a few feet away from him, discarded like trash.

He stares at them until his vision finally wavers and the darkness welcomes him home.

A hand presses hard at his shoulder and Victor's body flinches back before he's fully awake, stomach tossing, mouth aching. It takes far too long for his brain to catch up with the rest of his body, to register the muffled sounds around him as something more than the skittering of rodents and bugs.

There's another long press to his shoulder. He flinches again.

It's hard to open his eyes and keep them from closing. The first time he tries, between the remnants of a headache blooming across the back of his skull and the pounding ache of his jaw, he barely manages more than a few seconds.

His heart jumps at the shadows that crowd him. The panic stays with him as his eyes slip shut and he tries to say something to keep them at bay. The sound that escapes him is far from human, cracked and uneven, and met by a voice in response. He still can't understand what they say.

Forcing his eyes open for the second time, the light blurs his vision into two for a long moment, before softening. Blinking brings him more clarity and when everything finally falls into focus, his chest cracks anew.

Vera's face is twisted in a way he has never seen before, and it's hard for his foggy mind to decipher if it's in pure horror or to some degree of guilt. Her hands hover just above his shoulder as though she is afraid to attempt touching him again. She notices he's awake when her eyes accidentally meet with his own, but she's unable to hold his gaze, instead turning to her side and saying something.

It takes a minute for his ears to remember how to hear, following her gaze, only to land on Vargas crouched a few feet away, gathering something in his hands.

" - awake," Vera says, voice shaking. "Help me sit him up."

Vargas quickly finishes and tucks whatever he's found into his pockets before running over and lowering to Victor's other side, gently sliding one hand down his back as he braces against the bone. Victor flinches and doesn't have the voice left in him to apologize.

"Okay," Vera whispers as she sets her own hands around his shoulder, ready to hold his weight. "You with us, Victor?"

"Vera," Vargas snaps, his own voice not much better.

She shakes her head, looking sad as she ducks her head away from Victor's wandering gaze. "Right," she mumbles, as if remembering herself. "We're - We're going to lift you up so you're sitting. Brace yourself. One, two - "

They help his body move, slowly dragging him into a sitting position, the weight of his back leaning against their outstretched hands. He thinks he's okay until he's not, sharp pain splitting through his gums that he swears goes all the way to his neck, forcing a cry from chapped lips.

He's surprised when blood pools in his mouth again, and turns so that he can spit it out, raspy coughs following. He didn't think something like this would affect so much of him, but his entire body feels as though it's been beaten down, taut and throbbing like a toothache. The irony isn't lost on him.

Vargas shudders with an exhale from beside him, and Victor looks over at Vera again, trying to meet her eyes. She refuses. He doesn't like that, not now, not like this, when he feels so horribly less than everything he's ever known. Does she agree with the Eldress? Would she sit him up only to laugh as he fell again and again?

"We're going to get you out of here Victor," Vargas tells him, readjusting so that Victor's shoulder presses against his in a half hug. "You're not staying here."

"The stairs are going to be a challenge," Vera says, her own touch on Victor close to pulling away. "Nothing we can't beat - "

"Why can't you look at me?"

It takes far too much effort to speak, to drag the words from a chest that tightens after every breath, to push them through a throat hoarse from screams, and even then, they come out garbed and muffled in a way he doesn't like.

Vera freezes. Vargas squeezes him tighter, like he already knows the answer. He doesn't know how much time passes, waiting for something, anything. He stares at Vera until she finally, finally looks at him. She's crying, tears silently slipping down her cheeks. Victor has never seen her so vulnerable.

"Because this is my fault," she admits in a voice so low he thinks he imagines it. "If I hadn't gone to the Eldress, you would be okay. You - You wouldn't be bleeding and hurt in a room you never once belonged in."

"Vera." Vargas says, carefully neutral. "What's done is done."

"No," she rebukes. "No, this isn't done, I'm not - " Her voice cracks into nothing. Victor feels his chest constrict. "Victor I'm so sorry I did this to you. I never meant to...I never thought she would...not to you. I never thought she would ever do such a thing to you and if you hate me, you'll never see me again, because I - I - " Another choked breath; another bit of Victor's heart taken with it. "All you wanted to do was save us, all of us, and I'd give every fang a hundred times over to take back what I did."

She sniffles then, an echo in the silence around them. Vargas shifts again, gently pulling away and leaving Victor to sit on his own so that he can climb to his feet. Vera goes to wipe her eyes, only for Victor to reach out and catch her arm.

"I am okay," he replies, stubbornly. It takes a moment for him to find the right words. "I'm okay because you guys are here."

"Victor - "

He tilts his body forward before she can object, trusting her to catch him, as they both always have ever since the three of them met and Vera does, of course she does, her arms looping around him as he tucks his face in her shoulder. Vargas' hand falls on his shoulder. Vera sniffles again.

"You're always here when I need you," he mumbles against her shoulder.

"I'm so sorry Victor," she says again, and again, holding him close. "I'm so sorry."

"Come on," Vargas whispers, tugging at the both of them, gently breaking them apart. "Let's get you home."

Home. Victor wonders if he still has one, or if he has lost that too, right alongside with the rest of him.

Camp Rayburn holds life while lifeless, Victor thinks as he walks past dying bonfire embers and scuffed patches of dirt.

It's not surprising that it's cleared out already with the return of the blood fruit in full, but he's still careful when he pokes his head into either cabin, curiosity getting the better of him.

The daywalker cabin is like a bucket full of sunshine and he can't help but smile softly the longer he looks, taking in symbols he can't wait to learn and running his fingers along what he thinks clouds would feel like, if he could ever soar high enough to touch them. He lingers in the cabin for a while, forcing air through lungs that struggle to take any in. He feels so unsteady now, in everything he does whenever he's alone, no one else for him to look to make sure he's making the right decision.

He wasn't like this before.

He wasn't like a lot of things before, uncertain in his own skin, hollowed out from within.

He hasn't seen the Eldress alone since. He thinks Vera and Vargas have gone out of their way to make sure the two don't cross paths, outside of when she tried to keep Nova and him from fixing the stone meant to keep them together. She hadn't spared him a glance when Nova had hugged her father, instead turning away as Victor bit his lip to ward off a much greater pain.

It's odd, missing something he's never been without. He's too afraid to raise his tongue to the empty spaces. He doesn't know how he will eat blood fruit from now on, the farthest thing from a vampire. She had threatened that he would starve next, and he was quickly beginning to believe her.

Victor sighs and makes his way back out of the cabin and over to the fire pit, flopping down onto the dirt. The tree stumps have been put away and he doesn't bother with finding the strength to bring any back over, instead pulling his knees up to his chin and staring into the embers as though they will explain to him all that he is missing.

He's not sure he wants to go back into Shadyside. The times he's been able to sleep have been spent on Vargas' couch, too afraid to step foot under the same roof as the Eldress. Auntie.

Auntie, as he had begged her to stop.

"I'm surprised you're still here."

The sudden voice makes him jump, heart squeezing between his ribs. Nova drops down beside him, playfully knocking her shoulder against his. Her smile could rival the sun when he turns to look at her, radiant and contagious as his own lips pull in turn.

"Missed me already?" he throws back easily, and her laughter is sweet enough to return his heart to a steady beat.

"You wish." She looks around the camp, taking in the emptiness with a small sigh. "I'm going to miss it here."

Victor follows her gaze to the window of the daywalker cabin and finds himself agreeing. He picks at his fingernails for a few moments, nervous and self-conscious in a way he can't shove back down. Nova seems to pick up on it, turning to meet him.

"You okay?" she asks softly, eyes flickering down to his hands. "You're going to ruin your moonicure."

His lips pull again. She makes him feel at ease even when the rest of him feels as though it's fallen apart. He feels ashamed, all too suddenly, scalding words pushing at his throat. Would she still look at him like he hung all the stars in the sky once she found out? Would he still be enough?

"Victor?"

His darkstone flashes, led by fear. Nova doesn't move away, and Victor wishes he could hate her for it, but he can't. Not when it's her. He closes one hand, hard enough that his nails press painfully into his palm. Nova reaches for his hand before he can get far, forcing his fingers apart and slipping her own in between.

Victor doesn't think he deserves such kindness. Not when he's barely a vampire, barely a success, barely the boy she's seen before.

"Nova," he whispers, her name stuck between his teeth. "She defanged me." His speech still isn't quite right if he doesn't focus enough, and he nearly slips up as he says it, terror latching onto him and holding tight. "I'm...I'm barely a vampire now."

Nova is silent. Victor is afraid to look at her so he keeps his sight on their intertwined hands as though that will make the truth any easier to bear. She is silent for so long that he starts to think that maybe she hates him too, until suddenly she's launching herself at him, wrapping her arms around him so tightly that it nearly hurts to breathe.

Victor hesitates, so, so uncertain. Nova clutches him like she's afraid he'll disappear into thin air, and he doesn't know if he has enough worth to hug her back. She buries her face into the side of his neck, lips pressing against his skin.

"Nova," he brings himself to whisper, blinking back what he thinks might be tears. "Aren't you - " and his voice chokes, because he can't bring himself to say out loud what is swirling around his head, and he thinks that he isn't worth words now, not when it comes to someone who shines so brightly he would be okay with fading into the shadows.

"Victor," she whispers back, as determined as the day he finally met her, "whatever she told you, it's not true, none of it." A pause as she pulls back so that she can meet his eyes, a tear running down her cheek that he nearly reaches up to catch. "You're a dream come true," she swears, and the words pull a watery laugh from him, her forehead falling against his. "Fangs or not, you're still you."

He can't help himself any longer as he reaches for her, fingers sliding down the curve of her cheek. She reaches up and rests her own hand on top of his.

"Stay with me?" he asks, a moment of vulnerability stretched into a safety he hasn't been able to find. Nova nods, pressing closer.

He wants to kiss her.

He wonders if he'll ever be worthy of such a thing.