Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The dining room was filled with chatter and laughter, his most recent dinner party going splendidly. Even Owen has to admit he was having a good time, lounging in the lap of a human nobleman that was gleefully letting the younger vampire drink from him in small gulps. Hopefully Owen remembered not to kill him by accident, the politics of killing lesser-nobility was abysmal, and turning them even worse. 

He sipped from his goblet, the iron sweet on his tongue. Fresh blood was always best but when sat at a function like so he had an appearance to maintain, and golden goblets encrusted with rubies were much more refined than having a young man sat across his lap, as much as the image pleased him. If he was a few hundred years younger he’d indulge in the impulse like Owen was, but, alas, he was reaching a millennium and had to act his age. 

The doors were slammed open, all conversations coming to a halt. He smirked as his men dragged in the “guest of honor”. Their entertainment for the night was thrown to the floor at the opposite end of the table. 

“Ah! I see you’ve finally caught the little pest that’s been running around town. Thank you,” Scott purred, setting his goblet down and standing. 

No one moved as he glided around the dining room to stand in front of the newcomer. He was smaller than he expected, young too. His purple eyes glared at Scott as he attempted to break free from his men’s grasp and got nowhere. 

“So you're the little mouse that's been spreading such terrible things about me? I’ve heard you’ve gained a following as well. Collecting silver, planting garlic. Those things are forbidden, though I’m sure you know why. ‘Starting quite the rebellion, after all the good I’ve done for you as lord of Goldsmith,” Scott tsked, hand lifting the man’s chin. According to his spies his name was Avid, and he was little nothing more than a boy with ire in his heart and too much spirit. 

Avid yanked his head away and spit; saliva landing with a wet splat on Scott’s boots, “You're a monster. You sit up in your castle while we toil in fields and fear the days you decide to come down for sacrifices and blood. You've killed hundreds of people to satiate an insatiable appetite when we can barely keep ourselves full. You deserve death more than anything.” 

Scott rolled his eyes, “That right?” He looked up to his men and motioned for them to drop him.

Avid hit the floor, though he was quick to scramble up and pull a silver dagger from his boot. He swiped at Scott, though it was clumsy and all he had to do was sidestep and grab his wrist to end the attack. 

“My lord!” One of his men, Peters he thinks, reached out to grab Avid, hesitating when Scott pulled the boy closer. 

Scott squeezed Avid’s hand until the dagger dropped. Peters swiftly took the dagger off the floor, “I– I checked his pockets for weapons Lord Major. I had already removed one knife I hadn't thought–” 

“That's quite alright. I have it handled from here. You're dismissed,” he said, waving the two away. They nodded and left the dining room. 

Scott turned to Avid, holding him to his chest as he turned to the rest of the dining room. Avid was squirming like a mouse under a cat’s paw, and it only made Scott hold tighter, having to fight the instinct to bite down upon his prey, “Friends! We have a new guest with us tonight, everyone say hello to Avid.” 

The dining room erupted with laughter, humans either just as much a monster as he was or opting to hide their own discomfort to protect their own skin. Scott preened under it either way, pushing Avid along back to his place at the head of the table. 

“Would you– No– Stop–” Avid grunted, dragging his feet the entire way. It didn't matter, Scott had the strength to keep him going.

Once at the head Scott grabbed a nice handful of Avid's hair and slammed his face into the table, rattling his goblet. “Friends, this man is the figurehead of a rebellion that I have just snuffed out. About ten men and women have been disposed of for their treason and more being hunted down as we speak. Today we are celebrating the death of this rebellion!” 

Avid growled beneath him, trying to break from his hold and failing miserably, “You haven't broken us. My death will only bring more unrest–” 

“Death?” Scott asked, pretending to be surprised as he bent down over Avid, lips to his ear, “Now, who said anything about me killing you?” 

Scott only got to savor the horror that fell upon Avid’s face for a moment before Owen whined, “Scott, you're not actually going to turn him are you? He's been shouting crazy for weeks. He's annoying. Can't we kill him?” 

“Killing him will make him a martyr,” Scott answered, the hand in Avid's hair going soft, running through the locks, as his other hand continued a bruising hold on his wrist and against his back, “No, it breaks so many more spirits if their beloved leader switches sides. They won't want to attack their own.” 

“I’ll kill you!” Avid spit, “I’ll kill you– I’ll kill you– I’ll kill you–”

Scott sighed and slammed his head against the table once again, “There will be an adjustment period, of course. But a few days in the crypt will do him some good.” 

Owen curled his lip, slipping out of the nobleman’s lap, reaching over the table to grab a piece of meat from a plate (raw of course, freshly butchered and soaked in blood). “Don't expect me to be on babysitting duty.”

Scott rolled his eyes and pulled Avid back up so he faced the rest of the dining room guests, “Now, Avid will be joining us for the rest of dinner. I will be excusing myself after of course, but feel free to continue this little party in my absence.”

His guests cheered and the merriment resumed. He kept an ear out for any traitorous talk; many nobles would fall over themselves to be turned and some of them may well be stupid enough to think that creating their own rebellion would mean getting their chance like dear Avid. It wouldn't of course, any rebellion run by a noble would be flimsy at best.

No, the real trouble was when peasants started rebellion, because while they may be dirty and crass more often than not, they were also stupidly loyal to one another. 

Though he didn't rule this land for several hundred years to not learn a thing or two, and within the next decade he’d ask for less tributes and such, maybe give them a winter or two off and make sure the surrounding nobles weren’t taking more than their fair share of taxes. Not immediately of course, he can't let them think this little squabble affected him, but he knew unrest came when he pushed too far. It was a balancing act, ruling over humans, too much and they thought themselves better off fighting him to death, too little and they think they can walk all over him.

Speaking of humans, Avid had just stamped down on his boot. “Ow,” he deadpanned.

“Let go of me!” He snapped, trying to twist out his arms.

“Do you have any more silver on you?” Scott asked instead of bothering to humor him. 

“...Nooo,” Avid lied, badly.

“That's what I thought,” Scott hummed, “Owen, help me with his coat, will you?”

Owen huffed, standing from his chair and coming around, his hands reaching for the lapels of his jacket.

Avid growled at that, trying to break free once again but Scott was quick to hold fast, “No! You can’t– Just stop it, would you! I’m not just going to take this!” 

“You're making such a racket,” Scott sighed, taking Avid’s wrists into one hand and wrapping the other around his neck. He stopped struggling again and Scott let himself enjoy the pitter-patter of his heart for a moment. “If you don't want us taking your jacket, why don’t you just tell us where all your little silver trinkets are?” 

He seethed under him, each breath out his nose was audible, “Like I'd tell you.”

“I can just have you stripped completely; here in the dining room, I'm sure my guests would appreciate the show.” Scott shrugged, nodding to Owen to continue.

Avid clenched his jaw, refusing to say a thing. That, of course, wasn't a problem with Owen, who made quick work of pulling the jacket off Avid; Scott releasing his hold on his wrists just long enough for it to fall to the ground.

“Okay, now the boots.” 

Owen sneered, “I’m not touching his filthy boots, the jacket was more than enough–” 

“Owen, I am in no mood to argue with you over this, take his boots off,” Scott hissed right back. 

So the boots came off, another silver knife, about the size of a butterknife with a crudely sharpened edge, falling out of them. They then pulled his belt and pouches off and then slipped off his pants, though only because neither of them could actually reach into the pockets to pull the silver spoons he had tucked in them. 

“That's a problem,” Owen muttered, as the spoon had fallen out and he nudged it with his own shoe. 

Real silverware meant they were getting supplies from other towns or, devil-forbid, one of the nobles of his court. It wasn't like a peasant like Avid should have been able to afford fine silver in the first place. 

“Yes,” Scott replied, suddenly irritated, knowing he had to start actually working to put this right. He had done all this to not have to work, but here he was, stamping out rebellions and dealing with social politics. The whole point of the party was to celebrate the end of work. “I’m taking Avid to the crypt now, don't disturb me.”

“You're going to leave me here?” Owen whined, gesturing at the large group of human nobles.

Scott rolled his eyes, “Try not to kill anyone tonight. You can go hunting your least favorite noble tomorrow.”

He marched Avid out of the dining room then, moving his hand from his throat to his hair. The boy started throwing curses again but it just took one time knocking his head against a doorway to get him to quiet down. Scott wasn't too worried about injuries when the turning process would simply knit everything back together again.

Interesting enough Avid’s struggles lessened as they crept further down towards the crypt; it didn't take long before Scott realized he was trembling. They reached the bottom of the stairs, where the torchlight no longer reached. He could still see of course, but any human wouldn't know the difference if their eyes were closed. 

Avid’s panicked heart sped up, fluttering in his chest as each breath seemed to be a great labor. His bare feet dug into the stone and he shook his head rapidly despite Scott's grip on his hair. “No- No-”

“Get a hold of yourself,” Scott hissed, releasing his hold just a moment to get a softer grip on his arms. He hummed, thumbs rubbing loose circles over his arms, a half attempt at comfort, “You’ll be fine. It's immortality. It's power, every human dreams of this.”

Avid shook his head again, “No- No. I was supposed to kill you or die trying. I’m supposed to see her again. I can't– I won't get to join her–”

Scott tsked, “You went on a suicide mission to join a dead friend.”

“Please– Just- Just kill me,” Avid begged, trying to yank out of Scott's grasp, presumably under the assumption that if he started running Scott would finally just slam his head into a wall repeatedly. It was tempting, he’d give him that, it wasn't in the cards for the night. Besides, Avid would calm soon enough.

He pulled up on the back of Avid's shirt, dislodging his heels and started pushing them forward again, “Nah, I quite like my plan instead. You’ll make a fine vampire, Avid, you’ve just got to believe in yourself,” he teased.

Avid continued to squirm and beg as they made their way through the corridors. He flinched at every stone that touched his foot and every squeak of a bat that flew overhead. He was reduced to nothing more than trembles and labored breath by the time they descended the final stairs to Scott's tomb, the stone cover already pushed aside.

“Here we are,” Scott sung, and shoved Avid forward, the boy stumbling as he hit the steps to the tomb and fell to his knees at its side.

Avid attempted to stand again, but his legs were shaking too much to do little more than support him as his hands gripped the edges of the tomb. He blankly looked around, likely not able to see even his hands in front of him. It was like looking at a newborn fawn, shaky and weak, it made Scott hungry.

Avid's hands felt over the edges of the tomb before he yanked his hands away, stepping back just to fall hard down the two steps. “This- this is your tomb,” he gasped, struggling to push away from it. 

“Correct!” Scott chirped, stepping over Avid and crouching over him. His hand pressed against his chest, causing him to flinch and blink rapidly, trying to find Scott’s face in the dark. “I’m loaning it to you. Aren't I just the sweetest?” 

Scott grabbed a hold of Avid’s shirt, yanking him forward, and his fangs sunk into his neck. Avid jerked, a reaction Scott was well practiced with, and merely adjusted so one hand was across his back, holding him neatly in place. 

His blood spilled into his mouth, warm and thick, so much sweeter than the goblet from dinner. It was the perfect dessert from the long night, a delicious treat before he had to deal with the remnants of rebellions and politics. Every gulp was more strength building in his body and limbs. Every gulp giving him more power.

Avid was clawing at his back, muttering pleas and stops over and over again, but otherwise he was being much more well behaved then he had been previously. Scott purred, knowing it wouldn't settle the man quite yet, but he was so close to fledging, his struggles growing weaker.

Soon enough he finishes off his meal, Avid’s head lolled to the side as Scott pulled away. His breath had stopped and his heart beat slowed down to nothing. The only thing that proved he still lived in undeath was the fluttering of his eyelids and the slow curl and uncurl of his fingers. 

“There we are,” Scott cooed, easily able to lift Avid into his arms, “Now time for your nap.”

Avid whined, low and long, and Scott chuckled at that, until Avid jerked in his arms, head snapping up and eyes blinking with sudden clarity. “No- No no no–”

Scott held tight and stepped up to the tomb. “Ah-Ah, I said it's nap time. Listen to your sire, Avid.” 

Thankfully Avid seemed too confused to fight more, and Scott was able to set him down in the tomb. It was wiled with satin pillows and silk sheets and a goose down duvet, and the fledgling looked down at the softness with wide eyes, hands spread over them. 

Scott didn't waste any time letting him adjust, just pushed him down til he was laying down, and easily pushed the stone lid back into place.

There was a quiet moment and then– “Scott–? Lord Scott I can't– I can't move the lid,” Avid called, voice pitching in distress. It set off an inner instinct in Scott that he quickly shoved away. 

Turning fledglings always made him mushy, made him want to do things like hunt and nest. It's why this little set up was necessary, it gave Scott enough time to prep without letting the fledgling command him with whines and whimpers. There would be time later to properly care for Avid, spoil the baby vampire rotten, as Scott was looking forward to. 

He didn't bother with responding, letting the fledgling cry and tire himself out as he climbed out of the crypt. Once Avid realized he couldn't get out and Scott was not planning on letting him out he’d fall asleep. 

Owen found him at the top of the stairs, arms crossed, “You wouldn't have happened to have changed your mind, have you?” 

Scott grinned, patting Owen on the shoulder as he passed, “Avid has joined out little family, Owen, smile, won't you?”

Owen bared his teeth, which was close enough, and stomped off. Scott shrugged, knowing he'd come around soon, once Avid adjusted. 

Chapter Text

Long after the dinner party, when the sun was slowly approaching and maids were flittering about closing shutters and curtains, Scott found himself in his study, poring over a list of recorded dead. Nothing was seeming out of the ordinary, no one significant on the social ladder: peasants, a few artisans (that had him hum in consideration but nothing more), and a singular noble’s son. Said noble was at their little dinner party, which meant he either had no clue about his son's whereabouts or didn't particularly care. He’d still need to swing around and see if the noble was going to make a fuss about the death, but that was for later, when he could actually leave the castle without blistering in the sun.

There was a quiet knock on the door, one that had him setting aside his papers. The staff knew better than to disturb him when his study door was closed, so this was likely one of his fledglings or a message from them (it certainly wasn't Owen, as he was prone to just entering whenever and wherever he pleased to brood and sulk about). “Yes, come in.” 

Pyro, with his brilliantly bright eyes, poked his head in. “Sire? You busy?” 

Scott couldn't help the smile that pulled at the corners of his lips as he stood from his desk. “I am never too busy for you, sweetie. Come in. Come in.” He moved to the love seat that sat against the wall, and gestured for Pyro to join him. 

Pyro made little time sitting right next to Scott. It only took the press of a hand to maneuver Pyro to lay his head against his chest and Scott gently scraped his claws along his scalp. A pleasant purr rumbled from Pyro’s chest and Scott chuckled. Gosh, his fledgling was adorable. 

“To what do I owe this pleasure?” he asked. 

“I heard you turned someone,” Pyro said, apparently using all his effort to sound calm and casual. “I wanted to know what that was about, is all.”

“Jealous, jealous,” Scott teased, tapping Pyro's nose. “It was just that icky peasant rebel, Avid. He was making so much work for me, I had to do something.”

“Ah. I see. So is that why I wasn't allowed to attend the tonight’s dinner party?” he asked, turning to look up at Scott directly. 

“Yes, it is. You have less control than Owen does.” Scott rolled his eyes, pushing Pyro's head back down and continuing to card through his hair. “I don't want a repeat of Shelby, or heaven-forbid another Cleo-fiasco.”

“Hey, I got rid of Cleo!” Pyro argued.

“Yes, because that had been soooo easy on your instincts,” Scott drawled, chuckling.

Pyro didn't reply to that, stewing in embarrassment. Scott simply enjoyed the moment, humming happily to himself. It might have been a little cruel to bring up Cleo, but Scott enjoyed being a little cruel to his fledglings sometimes, as a treat.

He did find Scott's free hand, pulling it close to play with the fingers, curling and uncurling them, counting each golden ring. Scott allowed it, amused. 

“Avid is not someone you have to worry about, my dear Pyro. Once he's nice and settled into the brood—a cooperative little fledgling—all my precious attention will go right back to you.”

Pyro huffed at that. “But you will be preoccupied with him until he is. He's forced-turned, they hardly fall into obedience.”

“True, but still, an unruly fledgling is much easier to correct than an unruly human. Humans always get this idea in their head that they can be better than their superiors. Vampires know who they belong to… for the most part.”

“You, sire,” Pyro replied, eager to please, “we all belong to you.”

Scott giggled, pulling Pyro up so he could cup his cheeks and look him in the eyes, “That's right. Good boy.”

Pyro was so silly for thinking that Scott could ever willingly draw his attention away from him for so long. Pyro was perfect. He was curious, intelligent, handsome, and obedient. Scott couldn't help but plant a kiss on his forehead. What he wouldn't give to have a million fledglings just like this one.

Scott would have preferred a little more than three days to really pick out the rest of the traitors in his midst, but Avid falling into slumber from starvation wouldn't do him any good at the moment, so it was time to officially introduce him to the family. 

Taking a lamb down to the crypt would have been preferable, but sheep panicked too much around Scott and having a servant help with the matter would mean bringing a human to a hungry fledgling that was not physically or mentally prepared to eat from a human, especially without accidentally turning them. So he settled for rabbits. Two, one in each hand, held by the ears. 

Thankfully he had not passed Shelby on the way to the crypt because she would have reprimanded him for it, but he hardly cared for the welfare of an animal that was about to be eaten. Besides, holding them properly would result in the same problem as bringing a lamb. He was pretty sure one of the rabbits had already damaged itself trying to kick out of his hold, and if he didn't need them alive he would have slammed them into a stone wall ages ago to get the wiggling to stop. 

Descending the steps to the tomb he could just barely hear the scrap of claws and keening whines of Avid. The poor thing was already desperate. 

He switched his grip on the rabbits so they were in one hand, causing another slew of squeaks and struggles from them. He paid them no mind as he shoved aside the tomb’s top. 

Avid shot up, pushing himself back against the head of the tomb, eyes wide and flashing between Scott and the rabbits. “You– You left me. How long has it been? Days– Weeks?”

“Oh, don't be so dramatic, it's only been a couple days. I brought you a snack! I’m sure you're thirsty,” Scott cooed, holding the struggling rabbits up. 

Avid’s face paled, though his tongue darted out to lick his lips, “Those are live rabbits. I can't– I can't–”

“Sure you can,” Scott insisted, “it's just like the little rabbits you catch back in the forests in town. I hear humans eat rabbit stew sometimes. This is like that, just taking out all the middle steps and just going from killing it to eating it, no cooking necessary.” 

“I’m not going to kill and eat a rabbit!” Avid snapped, this time punctuated with an attempt to stand up. His legs shook so much he could barely get off his knees and he wobbled on the blankets and pillows.

Scott raised an eyebrow. “If you need I can kill it for you. Just this once though, you'll need to start getting comfortable with killing your own food soon. I can't have my fledglings be dependent on me for everything. Just some things.” He chuckled to himself, watching Avid's face scrunch up in distaste.

“I’m not eating that,” he replied, stubborn. 

“You're starving. If it's not this you’ll lash out at humans, and you don't want that, do you?” Scott asked, pausing for just a moment before pulling the rabbits away. “Unless you want to try human blood? I didn't take you for someone that would want to try immediately but I can arrange it. Really there's probably a servant right upstairs, I can grab one. Of course, at this stage you might accidentally turn them with how bloodthirsty you are, but that's not really a problem, I’ll just kill them properly afterwards–” 

“Give me the damn rabbit,” Avid growled, reaching for them. His nails were blackening and Scott could just see how they rounded into soft tips; they’d lengthen properly into claws with enough blood. 

He handed over one of the rabbits, which seemingly calmed down immediately when brought into Avid’s hands. Of course it still eyed him warily, but Avid had a gentle hold, keeping a hand under it and another holding against his chest. The rabbits were bred in the castle gardens, used to human touch and probably twice the size of any forest rabbit Avid might have caught himself as a human. It was soft and plump and Scott could hear its heart pittering from here, just as much as he was sure Avid could hear it too.

“I'm sorry,” Avid whispered into the little creature's fur before opting to break its neck. Scott rolled his eyes, the sentiment ridiculous, but he let Avid have it, especially as after that, he quickly took to sinking fangs into its body. 

He did get to see the moment, in perfect clarity, when the blood hit Avid's tongue and the fledgling realized just how good it was. His eyes widened and the gentle hold on the rabbit carcass turned possessive, fingers digging into flesh. He fell back down to his knees, curling around his meal, a low growl forming as it ran dry. It was adorable. His fledgling’s first meal and he was the one to provide it, it made Scott preen with pride.

As soon as the blood was no longer freely flowing Avid was searching for more. For a moment Scott was sure he was going to start tearing apart the rabbit, to eat the meat that was still saturated with blood, but the living rabbit Scott still held tried wiggling out of his grip, thus ensuring its fate. Avid’s wide eyes turned to it and he immediately reached out. “Give it–”

Scott held it aloft, “Ah-ah. That's no way to ask for things. What do you say?” 

His gaze flicked between him and the rabbit, obviously conflicted. There was indulging and there was submitting, the difference still significant to the fledgling, though Scott planned to erase that difference over time. A proper fledgling only truly indulged—only truly felt fulfilled—when submitting: to their sire, to their bloodlust, to the sanctuary of the coven and the loyalty of the brood. Indulgence and submission were one in the same.

“I’m not saying ‘please’ if that's what you want,” Avid grumbled, sitting back and crossing his arms, like pouting would do anything to sway Scott. He still eyed the rabbit of course. 

“That is what I want, yes,” Scott replied, smiling, letting the fledgling know the impudence had no effect on him. He swung the rabbit to catch Avid’s eye, watching the man grimace. “I know you're still hungry, Avid. You’re only hurting yourself like this.”

He glared out of the corner of his eye, seemingly hoping that Scott would falter first, as if he didn’t have the patience to wait days and Avid barely had enough to wait a few moments. The rabbit twitched and his gaze shot to it and then down to his lap. “Please,” he muttered, it barely more than a hissed syllable.

“Sorry, didn’t quite catch that,” Scott pushed, hand to his ear. 

“Please, may I have the rabbit,” Avid asked properly, turning to hold out his hand.

And how could Scott deny something as sweet as that? 

He handed over the rabbit, watching it kick and struggle, much more aware of Avid’s intentions with it then the previous one. Avid’s grip was much less careful, but he still held it with more gentleness than Scott would care to grace such a creature. There was the smallest moment of hesitation before he once again snapped its neck first and delved into his meal. This time, as he finished, he didn’t look as ready to tear the rabbit to pieces for more, but he was certainly still glaring at it for not holding more blood. It hadn’t been enough to get him any further into his vampirism, no new powers quite yet—no pretty red eyes—but it was enough to get him away from starving and onto his feet.

Scott stood. “I think you’re ready. Come along, Avid, let's introduce you to the rest of the family,” he cooed, holding his hand out for the fledgling to take.

He eyed him warily, seemingly having no intentions of taking it, and instead pulled himself to his feet using the sides of the tomb. Scott didn’t push it, letting him find his footing and instead grabbed up the dead rabbits out of the tomb. Thankfully it didn’t look like any blood had gotten on the silk bedding; if Avid proved to be difficult they wouldn’t need to change the sheets just for a timeout.

“I’m never going to think of you monsters as family,” Avid said as he followed at Scott’s heels, “I’m not one of you. I’m not–”

“Not a vampire? Not a monster? Not everything your little rebel group sought to destroy?” Scott asked flippantly, waving a hand in the air. “You’re one of us now, sweetie. Better yet, you’re one of mine. I think you’ll find it harder to deny than you think.”

His words were followed with silence, and kept an ear out for the comparatively heavy footsteps behind him. They were already lighter than before, but nothing compared to the way Scott practically glided over the ground. That came with time. 

Time they now had so much of, and Scott so looked forward to it.

Chapter Text

He had to be sure that the little rebellion that had paraded around the town was officially squashed out, and had taken many trips himself (often with Owen and Pyro) just to be sure of it. They’d found secret bunkers and the smallest amount of illicit magic, the beginnings of holy books being scrawled out. They eventually found where the rebellion was being concentrated, an old hunters cabin at the edge of town had been converted into a church for the Holy Word, with a nice little garlic garden in the back and stores of silver tucked in every drawer and chest. They were even attempting to create a holy beacon as well, though considering they only found evidence of one they weren’t too impressed. Owen happily took to burning the place down. 

Scott had hoped that, with him allowing the population of his town to grow to a few thousand, that outsourcing the care of it to lower lords and ladies would mean less work for him. And it had, for a while, but this mess was tedious to clean up. When he only had a hundred or so humans under the palm of his hand it was just a matter of squashing the whole lot if a few of them got to be pests. However these days twenty humans were no longer a few rotten apples in a barrel, easy to toss the whole thing out, it was instead a handful of grains in an entire wheat field. Sure, he could burn the whole field down over such a little thing, and he doesn't think anyone would blame him for it, but it was really just a waste when the rest of the wheat was just fine. He just had to cut out the infection from the source. Which, unfortunately for him, required much more labor than simply lighting a match.

He did have his fun. Whenever he found another member of the little rebellion that spit at him for killing the young rebel, their symbol of resilience, he relished in seeing their face turn to horror when he explained that Avid was (mostly) alive and well. Humans could be so funny when they got some idea in their head. They thought being turned was a fate worse than death. He couldn't imagine why anyone would think being a vampire was so awful. He enjoyed himself plenty! Especially being able to kill little lowlife maggots with his shiny claws and killer teeth. 

The hunting had stemmed off much of his instincts, especially with the knowledge that Avid was safely tucked away within the castle, usually in the good hands of Shelby and, less frequently, the capable hands of Owen (though he loathed it). However, any moment not spent in the town dredging out the last of the rebellion and their supporters has his mind wandering back to his fledgling. 

The siring instincts he had for Pyro had faded too fast once he had accidentally turned Shelby. It had taken a lot of work on his part not to suddenly and instinctively view the young vampire as competition instead. If Owen hadn't been there when it had happened he might have torn his fledgling to pieces (not that it would have killed Pyro, but it certainly would have asserted his authority). Thankfully Pyro didn't need any more warning than the scare of disappointment and Scott had been very disappointed.

It had been years now, and usually Pyro would have flown the nest by now, but after all the work Scott had put into him, and all the work he had done to realign his instincts to something more caring, he was reluctant to pull his claws out just yet. Besides, he was no longer a newly-turned, flashing his power and fangs and letting just anyone into his fold because he found them fun, he could allow himself to be sentimental.

It did mean that his brooding instincts were coming out in full force, no longer spread across an assortment of fledglings like the old days and right after the trauma of his bond with Pyro suddenly snapping and having to restring it himself. With no fledgling since Pyro, his mind was a whirlwind that demanded he do everything he could for the little rebel. 

He was shoving those instincts down for the most part, mostly because he did not want Avid being aware of how much control he potentially had over Scott, because the answer should be none. It did mean, mostly, he had become very particular about the nursery.

The nursery was an attached bedroom to his own, one that Pyro was supposed to spend years in and had only lasted a few weeks before he had to be moved to a full bedroom with his own nursery for Shelby, though Scott doesn't believe their connecting door had ever been unlocked. (They acted more like nestmates, Shelby often still referring to him before Pyro when it came to vampire and family matters; and while Pyro was protective over his fledgling, he was not comfortable with being authoritative towards her, more acting like a guard dog than a sire.) It was currently decorated much like his own room, dark wood furniture with fine red velvet and golden details, though he couldn’t help but soften the edges with much more plush furniture, all love seats or couches or benches, something to share space, and a large bed piled high with pillows and silky soft bedding. He allowed Avid a journal and a handful of books, as well as a couple wooden games like chess, which Avid had quickly grown to hate, and checkers, less frustrating for him and bearable to play. The closet was somewhat bare but slowly filling once he had gotten a tailor to take the man’s measurements (nothing fitted, Avid couldn’t stand still for anything to be perfectly fitted to his form, but he wasn’t wearing peasant clothes anymore). He had started with reds and blacks, to match with himself, but finding out that Avid preferred purple (and it surprisingly looked good on him) Scott had indulged the fledgling with some purple, black and grey clothing to wear around the castle.

The thing, however, that grated on Scott the most, was that Avid had a tendency to be destructive. The first day, Avid had managed to smash a chair into oblivion and attempted to fashion a stake with the broken supports; it had ruffled Scott’s feathers so thoroughly he had almost slammed Avid’s head into a wall. He had, instead, walked him right back down to the crypt for another nap. It had taken the help of both Pyro and Owen to actually get him to lay down nicely, but no more furniture in the nursery had been smashed to bits after. Instead, Avid has destroyed several other pieces around the castle and even a beloved portrait to get to the frame.

It really was time to put an end to it.

The latest casualty was a three-legged stool, this time from the servant quarters, as if the servants of the castle weren't the ones reporting all the broken furniture in the first place. A chunk of a leg was missing, and he had a good idea of where it was. 

He didn't bother knocking on the door or asking for permission to enter, the castle was his as was every room, and there was no point. Just as he suspected, Shelby was sitting with Avid, the two across from each other in the reading nook. It seemed Shelby was showing him the newest addition of her “fanfictions”. Scott still couldn't quite grasp the whole thing, taking characters from already published literature and writing them as if they were your own, for no profit or gain whatsoever, it made utterly no sense. It made her happy though, so he would oblige her ramblings and writings. Avid seemed to be in the same boat, the moment before the fledgling noticed his entrance he was nodding along enthusiastically, but Scott really doesn't think any of the lights were on upstairs. 

“Oh, Scott!” Shelby chirped, waving him over. He didn't move. “I was just showing Avid my work, did you want to see?”

Avid had curled in on himself, a sure sign that he was hiding something. When Avid felt he was in the right he was loud and shouty, attempting to rub his “goodness” in Scott's face. When he did something he knew would get him in trouble, he shut down, especially so when he believed he would be caught. It was nice having a fledgling with such easy tells, it was why he had implemented them into Pyro. 

“Shelby, would you mind giving Avid and me a minute? I want to discuss something with him,” Scott replied, pointedly staring down the fledgling. He easily could have hidden his frustration until Shelby was out of the room, but he didn't. 

She looked between him and Avid, who was letting little pleas for her to stay fall from his lips. His squeaky little voice was sweet to his ears, and it made him want to bundle up with the fledgling in his nest proper– but not until this was sorted out first. 

Shelby stood slowly, and walked towards Scott and the door. Just as he hoped, she stopped, “Just, go easy on him, would you?” 

“Why, Shelby, I have been going easy on him,” Scott insisted, “He’s the one that's planning on killing me– on hurting our family. Why, as far as I was aware I would come in to find you dead on the floor, since he's clearly still so afraid of all of us.” 

“That's not true!” Avid shouted from the other side of the room, standing from the table but not making any move to come closer, “Shelby, please, I would never hurt you. Scott is lying to you.”

“Oh, so you don't have a stake lying around here, hidden from view?” Scott prompted, “I found another broken stool. You’re still trying to hide things from me, Avid, things that could hurt people.” 

Shelby’s shining eyes turned to Avid, heartbreak clear across her face. “Avid… you didn't.” 

“I- I-” he stuttered, looking between Scott and her, “Shelby, please, you have to understand. Scott took my family from me–” 

“So you want to take him from me?”

“No! No. Shelby, it's not like that. You– You’re good, and kind, and Scott is– He’s none of those things. Shelby, please you have to understand. Scott is evil–”

“I- I can not believe you right now,” Shelby hissed, “Scott is my friend, and he's been nothing but a sweetheart to you and me. He doesn't deserve to die just because you don't seem to realize all he’s done for us.”

“He’s literally killing people!” Avid snapped, “He killed you! –And me!” 

Scott frowned, “But Avid, you're right in front of me. So is Shelby. I haven't killed either of you, not really. You're both still standing, still here, still part of this family.” 

“I am not a part of your family.”

“Right. Of course not,” Shelby answered for him. 

Scott had to smooth out his expression to avoid grinning at the absolute devastation on Avid’s face. 

“Avid, where's the stake?” He asked instead, holding his hand out.

With Shelby right there, watching, Avid practically crumbled under the weight. He walked, tail between his legs, over to the bookshelf, where he reached behind a stack of them and pulled out the snapped stool leg. Shelby’s hands balled into fists, practically shaking as Avid came over and handed the stake over to Scott. 

“Unbelievable,” Shelby said, shaking her head. She turned and fled out the nursery, capelet fluttering behind her. 

Avid looked to be about the verge of tears. “You did that on purpose, didn't you?” he asked, just as she was out of earshot.

Scott hummed, raising an eyebrow, “Did what? Remove a dangerous weapon from your room?” 

“Make Shelby mad at me!” Avid shouted, stamping his foot like a petulant toddler.

“I haven't done anything to make her mad at you, Avid. That was all you,” he replied. He took the stake and set it on a table in the hall for a servant to pick up and discard later, and then fully stepped into the nursery, closing the door behind him. “I do hope, however, that you’ll stop with the attempts on my life, knowing just how upset Shelby will be with you if you were to succeed.”

Avid whined at that, “How can she not see how much of a monster you are?” 

“Oh, she does,” Scott answered, shrugging, much to Avid’s despair, “She just doesn't worry about it as much as you do. She knows what I do and why I do it; she also knows that I would never do anything to hurt her. She's my dear friend and I care for her. I care for all of you.”

“You only turned me to make a point to the town, you don't care about me,” Avid argued, turning away.

Scott hummed, lightly stepping behind Avid and placing his hands over his shoulders, feeling the fledgling tensing under him. He rubbed soothing circles until the muscles relaxed bit by bit, “Did I now? As far as the town is aware you died when my men raided your cute little hunter base, if I turned you to send a message they certainly aren't hearing of it.”

Avid squirmed a little, just so he could turn to face Scott with the most adorable confusion upon his face (an expression that made all his resolve fall and he allowed himself to indulge in a bit of affectionate siring), “But you said… the night you turned me–”

“I just thought you were cute,” Scott cut him off, pressing a finger to his nose and watching with glee as blush creeped up his neck, “I mean, it was convenient, sure, but really I wanted you, Avid. We watched you for a while, before we put a stop to your little insurgence, and I just couldn't help but admire you.”

“Admire me?” He squeaked.

“Uh-huh,” Scott replied easily, leading Avid to the bed, pulling him down to his side.

Avid seemed to sit on that for a bit, and Scott let him, eventually pulling him a little further into the bed to properly snuggle. Usually he didn't get this far with Avid before the fledgling was wiggling to get some space from him. Scott ran his fingers through his hair, smiling to himself as the roots were starting to come in white.

“I don't believe you,” He finally spoke, quiet but firm, only the slightest quiver in his voice.

That was fine for now, it wouldn't take much longer to pick and pull at his brain until all that was left inside was what Scott wanted. He had done the same with Pyro and Shelby, taking and changing and rearranging their perception until all that was left was the simple understanding that they were his and that was the best thing that could happen to them. Avid would come around, he was just on the cusp of it all, accepting his new found place in their happy little family. He cupped his face with his hands, lifting his head just enough so he could place a kiss upon his forehead and look down at his adorable work in progress. Avid pouted, confusion clear, but not a single move to fight Scott off of him like before. The burning resilience within fading fast and faster with each gentle touch. 

Of course, he still wanted to show off his new little prize to the town, to let them know just what had happened to their proud symbol of rebellion, but not until he was ready. Just a little longer, until all that stubborn pride was gone, and then he’d have a happy little fledgling ready to denounce his ties to any friend or family he had left. Not that there was many left, but still, a message nonetheless.