Demonic: Don't own, never will.
Monster, I have been called, demon, devil, creature of hell. Perhaps I am, for I revel in the gore and darkness that is death.
I am the beast they call Nosferatu, vampire.
For the first years of my imprisonment, I lost myself, lost myself to my inner souls, I remember little from that time, though the memories often return when I finally slip into the fickle conscious that is sleep.
I resurfaced when the young girl, Integra, opened my long-rusted tomb, fleeing from her blood relative, her uncle if I remember correctly.
She bound me to her, and I allowed it all to willingly, feeling, for the first time in too long, the emotion that is love. I loved the child, loved her like she was my own, and she did, too, for a time, a time that I still think of with fondness.
Then I became a weapon, just a weapon to her, a thing to be used and then to be put away, and her once pure heart iced over, freezing out all that once cared for her.
Though I am leery to admit it, it hurt me more than any battle wound.
I...befriended the mortal known as the Angel of Death, and he was my solace for the years that I would have otherwise spent alone. But I was sinking once more, sinking to a point I did not know...and from which I might never return
It was that night, in Cheddar, that I found myself once more. The girl, the girl had at first just been a replacement of my lost bride, and as I turned her I did it only to find a companion, someone who would not fade away into the darkness, disappear in the tides of time.
At first, she infuriated me, not accepting her true nature, seeking out mortal pleasures and games, but then, then she slowly came to realize herself, and through that, I found myself no longer pining for once was, but for what the next day would bring.
And I, the true Vampire King, found that I had fallen for my own fledgling.
I sought out her company at first, unsure and angered trying to turn my hatred to the young girl. But every time her crystal eyes teared, or her lips quivered with suppressed cries, my blackened heart burned with self-hatred and guilt.
It took time, time that I would not admit, to pursue her, the idiotic french mercenary stopping most if not all of my advances, but, at last, I found her.
And for the first time in thousands of years, I wept. Wept for my losses, wept for my ancient home, wept for what can not be.
She listened, as is her way, comforting me in the only way she knew, gentle hand petting my brow.
She listened, and heard my silent words, as no one else had.
She listened, and she accepted.
Even now, as I watch her sleep, I can not believe, that a creature like her, could love a creature like I.
But she does. I know not for how long, or if it is but a child's fancy, but I know that throughout these long centuries that await us, that my heart shall forever remain hers.