When Lucian was 9, he learned to forge his first sword. He was taught under Henrik, an aging mortal man to whom Lucian bore a slight attachment. Where the vampires were cold and cruel and his newly turned Lycan brethren were fierce and hateful, Henrik was gentle. He was one of the last humans in the castle, a quickly depleting population that were intended to work their keep until they died and were replaced by new, immortal slaves. Henrik had been a slave since he was 36 and handsome, a farmer with a beautiful wife and baby. When Viktor's army swept through his town, killing the weak and chaining the adaptable, Henrik offered himself willingly, eagerly if his wife and son could be spared and, mercifully, the vampires agreed. It was for that reason that Henrik served the vampires loyally, bitterness curbed by overwhelming gratitude that his young family had been spared. Lucian didn't have the heart to tell him that the vampires hadn't kept to their word.
"Now we sharpen." Henrik held the blade horizontally, rotating it. The bright light of the fire glinted on the silver infused steel.
Lucian watched with earnest, memorizing the instructions murmured to him through Henrik's soft, accented voice. He'd been told that this would be his job soon enough and he'd get no further instruction then what Henrik offered him.
"And now sword is finished," Henrik proclaimed, proudly weighing it in his hands. Once satisfied, he passed the blade off to Lucian, "Careful now, and put it with the others."
They had crafted four swords that night, each slightly better than the last as Lucian progressively learned. They would probably never be used but Lucian was pleased with his outcome nonetheless.
Lucian took the sword with both hands, bracing himself for the weight. When Henrik let go, however, his strength was not enough and the blade tipped. Instinctively, he reached out with one hand to steady it and the burn was instantaneous. Lucian let out a shocked yelp and immediately dropped the offending item, clutching his singed hand. Henrik had turned at the clang of metal and, remarkably, considering his age, was at Lucian's side an instant later. Wordlessly, he held out his hand, requesting Lucian's. Lucian obeyed with no hesitation, feeling oddly warm at the concern in Henrik's aged, crinkled face. The man tutted to himself as he examined the thick burn of the silver, outlined on either side by deep lacerations from the edges of the blade.
"Come, sit. I fix hand." Henrik cross the room, gesturing to the small stool by the fire, Lucian's perching point for the first lesson.
Lucian hesitated. He was a man. Lord Viktor had told him this on the day he was forced to turn his first human. The words had been smooth as silk, creamy, intended to flatter. But Lucian knew, as did Viktor, that it was really a warning. It was time to cast off the comfortable excuse of childhood and accept his fate as a slave.
Biting his tongue to numb his pained hand, he remember the words and agreed. After all, none of the others were cared for when they injured themselves. Indeed, just two nights ago a Lycan was chained to the gate by his Moon Shackle for breaking a harness on a carriage. He was still there tonight.
But Henrik was still watching him, kneeling expectantly by the fire and Lucian's hand stung like it was held in the flames.
"Come, Lucian." Henrik murmured.
Slowly, regretfully, Lucian obeyed. He squirmed at the shame coiling in his chest as Henrik cleaned the wound with delicacy.
"Not so bad," the man decided, procuring a scrap of material and beginning to wrap Lucian's palm, "You Lycans heal good and fast."
It was true, Lucian could already feel the pain subsiding. In his hand, at least. The makeshift bandage tied, Henrik rose heavily to his feet and retrieved the sword, stacking it at the wall with it's three brothers. When he returned to Lucian, he slid his own stool over and sat against the stone.
"You are in pain?" Henrik asked.
Lucian shook his head, "No, sir."
A hint of a smile twitched upon Henrik's lips, "I would have had son your age by now."
Lucian shifted. Henrik's wording was the result of scare English teachings, Lucian hoped he'd never know how true his words actually were.
"He's named Jacob." Henrik continued, "I think of him always."
Lucian listened attentively. A man of few words, Henrik seldom spoke at great lengths. But when he did, it was always for worth.
"He was five years when I left. I wonder if he remembers."
Despite the nature of his words, Henrik's face wasn't sad, just wistful.
"One day, I try to teach him reading." he continued, "He was eager to do well, make me proud. When he fail, he try, try, try... Keep trying until he able to read sentences, books! Perseverance..."
A moment of silence passed, a wordless acknowledgement of what Henrik had lost. Slowly, Henrik turned in his stool. Hunching his back in a movement that was sure to pain the old man, he brought his face to Lucian's level, clasping the boy's injured hand in his two large palms.
"I see this in you every day, Lucian." he smiled, "And I hope Jacob grow into... like you."
He struggled to place the English words but Lucian understood and was instantly filled with pride.
"Lucian, I see you worry. Our master worry you, frighten. He make you kill, damn men."
Lucian looked down as he spoke, "Do you think I am a monster?"
Henrik's face took a ferocity and his sharp intake of breath forced Lucian to look up.
"No, Lucian, no." Henrik insisted sharply, "You are incredible force. Force of good. It is Viktor who is monster. He turn your force on men who don't want it. But you are great and you could make choice for good."
Lucian struggled to decipher the meaning.
"On men who choose it?" he asked eventually.
Henrik nodded, "Yah, like that. Your bite is gift for those who choose."
Silence gripped them again, but this time is was contemplative, at least for Lucian's part. Could it be so? Could men actually volunteer for this, to be like him? Fleetingly, his mind showed him painfully sweet images of light, open spaces. It was daylight and they were awake, the way they were naturally born to be, and there was a family. Not a harsh, political family like that of the coven, but a real family. A mother, gentle and plump, sunkissed. Henrik, young again and buzzing with vitality. And children, dozens of children. Children like Lucian. Friends.
His fantasy was interrupted by the inevitability of his reality.
"What's going on here? Taking a cozy little break?"
Lucian almost glared at the intruding vampire, shocked by the vivid images of his wanting. Henrik, thankfully, kept his head.
"Boy hurt himself. We are back working immediately." he explained obediently, rising quickly from his seat. Lucian heard the sickly cracks of worn bones.
The vampire, a sneering man who appeared around 30 and who Lucian couldn't name, surveyed them for a moment before nodding slowly, "Fine, see that you do."
Out of danger of a lashing, Lucian relaxed and stood to join Henrik. It was only then that he noticed the second presence accompanying the scowling man.
"Did you make these?" she asked him, surveying the four swords on the wall with interest.
Lucian found it hard to respond but he managed and suffocated, "Yes, m'lady."
Sonja was 7, barely taller than the swords themselves, but the formality was necessary. She was the only daughter of their master, a sheltered deity. When she did venture out of the castle, it was always under the watch of a guard.
This was the third time Lucian had seen her for longer than a few seconds but she already seemed familiar. Her features were striking, it was hard not to take notice. Her long hair was dark as night under the light of the moon but in the warm firelight, Lucian could see the tinges of brown. The same colour as her eyes, solid and earthly. Her face, distinctively pale, was round with youth and pretty.
But of course all vampire were beautiful, Lucian reminded himself.
"How can we assist, lady?" Henrik asked, bowing his head respectfully.
In response, Sonja's chin lifted and her face hardened. The effect might have been intimidating if she weren't shorter than their work bench.
"I wish to claim a sword." she recited.
Behind her, the nasty guard sneered. Lucian found himself liking the man less by the second.
"Of course, young princess, I am happy to give." Henrik responded warmly, "Why don't you try one of those?"
He gestured to the swords by the wall and Lucian felt his face heat with embarrassment. They were obviously amateur's craftsmanship. Sonja moved to examine them again, choosing the most recent and least shameful blade. As Lucian watched, Sonja hesitated slightly, looking around the room as if asking for instruction. Her jaw set when none came and a prideful pout graced her lips. Reaching up, she secured both hands around the hilt and pulled it down with a small grunt of effort. Lucian was already braced for the crash that followed.
Sonja's face flamed with embarrassment and she immediately bent to try again. She barely shifted the broad sword.
"I told you, you're too weak." the guard said impatiently, "Get up, Lord Viktor is waiting and I have better matters to attend to."
Lucian looked over to see Henrik frown disapprovingly. The guard left without looking back, leaving Sonja behind. With the same speed that he'd practiced earlier, Henrik crossed the room to kneel by Sonja. He lifted the sword, replacing it against the wall and smiled at the girl.
"One day," he promised, "You strong."
Sonja's dejected expression turned sarcastic, "Yes. Strong like a bull."
Henrik shook his head, "No. Strong like panther."
Interest piqued on Sonja's face and she smiled, "Thank you."
Henrik stood, "Come again, lady. When you strong."
Sonja nodded eagerly and made for the door. Just as she was about to leave, she turned, flashing her teeth in a wide smile.
"Good night, Lucian."
A curious warmth, similar but not exactly the same as when Henrik had praised him, filled his chest at the sound of her saying his name. Had that brilliant smile really been for him? The thought made him smile too, even though she'd already turned away.
"Beautiful girl." Henrik commented, watching the door close, "Pity..."
He trailed off, censoring himself for Lucian's sake. But Lucian understood and the thought brought his reeling mind crashing back down to Earth.
Pity, he thought, she should grow to be a monster.
It was always a point of contemplation for me, how Lucian became so... honorable. I figured their must have been some force of good in his life at one point, someone who encouraged his inner strength. So this idea has been bugging me for a long time now, I'm glad I got it out.
Hope you enjoyed, please consider reviewing! :)