Disclaimer: I take no credit for the characters or locations in "The Addams Family" "Conan the Cimmerian" or the works of H.P. Lovecraft. Alaric Hartmann and the other various OC's are of my own making.
If Alaric Hartmann were to be asked why he was in the occult section of the library he would be hard pressed to give an answer beyond 'Why not?' Even though he had been at Miskatonic University for nearly six years, the entirety of his undergraduate and post-graduate career, he had never perused that particular section of the library, despite how famous it was. It had been said that the rare and ancient tomes jealously guarded in the library drove men to madness, but Al didn't think he had much to worry about. As a second year med student, school was already doing a fine job of that.
Al was what some would consider handsome, in a rough sort of way. He was above average in height, just short of six feet, with a compact frame of knotted muscle, a remnant of his time playing hockey. His hair was dark and short, with grey-blue eyes that seemed to smolder when deep in thought, standing out against his swarthy skin.
He'd spent the majority of his time at Miskatonic in the labs, on the ice at the hockey rink, and even at the occasional party, but never had he set foot in the most famous part of school's library. On that day he felt what could be described as a pull toward the library, a desire to explore and discover. The shelves were lined with dusty, leather-bound books with strange titles in Latin, German, and languages he didn't even recognize. The line of shelves led to an open space in the center the occult wing where three pedestals stood under thick Plexiglas cases. He approached them with caution, as if coming upon some feral beast that would attack at any sudden move. Plaques adorned each of the cases, signifying the importance of the pieces. The Book of Eibon, Unaussprechlichen Kulten, the Necronomicon. Each one coveted for the arcane knowledge held within the pages, knowledge of long-forgotten gods worshipped in secret when mankind was young. His fingers brushed against the glass.
"You have Cimmerian blood."
"Jesus Christ," he shouted, wheeling around to discover the source of the unexpected interruption, heart hammering in his chest. She was tall, almost as tall as him, and thin. Her cheek bones were high, her eyes hard and examining. She was pale, as if she'd rarely seen the sun, her black hair contrasting sharply with her skin. Her dress was simple and black, reaching down to her knees while concealing a lithe figure. She was pretty, he decided, in a strange, fae kind of way. The pigtail braids were a bit childish, though.
Over the faint 'Sh!" of the librarian, she repeated, "You have Cimmerian blood," she repeated. "You are a descendant of the Cimmerians. Maybe with some Pict. There might be Aesir in you. Just a bit though." He remembered reading about the Picts in his History of the British Isles class, but Cimmerian was a term he was less than familiar with. She stepped up to him and cupped his face in her hands, examining the individual creases and angles. Her hands were very cold.
"Um… Not that this is unpleasant, but could you tell me who you are before you start examining me like a steer at the county fair?" Her examination continued, uninterrupted, fingers prodding his cheeks and jaw.
"Wednesday Addams, Class of 2015. Major in Business Administration, double Minor in Occult Studies and Ancient History. You should be careful. You wouldn't be the first to die because of the Necronomicon." She finally released him, taking a small notebook from her backpack, scribbling down her findings. Finally regaining his composure, Al scowled, crossing his arms.
"You want to tell me what the Hell was that about?"
"A project for my Ancient Anthropology class," she said, never looking up from her pad. "I'm studying the spread of Hyborean peoples through the ages to see which traits have remained strongest. You have the strongest Cimmerian traits that I have seen so far. I would like to study you more. What is your name?"
"My name is none of your business, and if you pull anything like that again I'm going to Public Safety." He made to turn and leave when she spoke again.
"I already know your name, Alaric Hartmann, second year student at Miskatonic Medical School. Asking was just a formality. Now, when would be a convenient time to meet for my study?"
He whirled around. "I don't know how you know all of that, little girl," he started, closing what little distance he'd managed to put between them, "but let me make something clear: I've know you for less than five minutes, and I already dislike you. If you ever come near me again, there is not a force in this or any other reality that will be able to help you."
Wednesday smiled to herself as he stormed off. "That's exactly what I wanted to hear, Alaric."
XXXxxxXXX
In the two weeks since his encounter in the library Al had been keeping an eye over his shoulder when he wasn't in class, or the lab, or studying in his room. While he didn't actually see the strange girl from the library again, he had a feeling in the back of his mind that someone was watching him whenever he went out. It was the worst when he was on the ice. Despite the major time constraints his chosen field of study put on him, Al made a point skate at least every other day, rollerblading in the summer and spring, ice skating in the fall and winter. His time on the hockey team gave him a lot of leeway when it came to using the rink, complete with a signed pass from the director of athletics. It was one of the few things left in his life that required no thought, no special consideration. All he had to do was skate until his legs went numb, his mind free to wander. Alas, it seemed all good things had to come to an end. In the middle of a set of suicides when a voice he had come to dread startled him. "It seems time hasn't diminished your skill Alaric Hartmann. I am not disappointed." She rose from a seat in the stands, a little black notebook tucked under her arm.
"What the hell do you want? I thought I told you to leave me alone," he said through gritted teeth. Wednesday smirked.
"I still need you for my study, and there is no one else who is nearly as well-suited as you." She raised a hand before he could say anything. "You and I both know that I will not stop until I get what I want. All you need to do is give up a few hours of your time, and if you really want me to, I will leave you alone."
There was a long pause before Al spoke. "What exactly do you need me to do?" Her smile chilled him to the bone. It was like a panther eyeing a gazelle.
"You will meet me at the gym at two o'clock the day after tomorrow. Wear comfortable clothing and running shoes." With that she turned and left, leaving him all alone on the ice. Was it a stupid decision, going along with this little study of hers? Probably. At that point, however, Alaric was willing to do anything to get some semblance of peace back.
'Besides," he thought, 'how bad could a little workout be?'
XXXxxxXXX
As it turned out a "little workout" could be one of the most physically exhausting and trying things a person could take part in. At two o'clock sharp, Al was greeted at the gym by a Wednesday Addams who had undergone a stark wardrobe change. Instead of the plain black dress she had been wearing when he had first met her, she was sporting a tight gray t-shirt and a pair of tight black yoga pants. While the color scheme hadn't changed much, what Al took notice of was that the form-fitting nature of her attire revealed that Wednesday Addams had one sweet ass. 'No," he corrected himself, 'sweet ass doesn't do her justice. That girl has a booty.' Her new ponytail was another new addition that set Alaric's mind to wandering. His revelry would be short-lived.
Her instructions were short and clear. He had several minutes to stretch and warm up, and he was to follow her instructions to the letter. His first test was to work a heavy bag until told to stop. He wrapped his hands and set to work, unleashing a flurry of sharp jabs and hard crosses, throwing in elbows and knees as the minutes wore on. Those first few minutes were a sight to behold, but like all men Alaric began to tire, though he refused to stop. His strikes lost power and speed, his movements becoming more clumsy and labored. Eventually he was given the order to stop and a bottle of water. After only a few moments of rest he had to start again, this time being handed a heavy Indian club and told to swing it like a sword, occasionally having to dodge a thrown tennis ball. The hours passed slowly as Alaric moved through each trial that his pale tormentor placed him in, from rock climbing to weightlifting until at least he was blindfolded and put on a treadmill and told to run until he couldn't run anymore.
The entire time Wednesday was smiling behind her notebook. Alaric Hartmann had clearly been an excellent choice. When compared to the fragments about the great Cimmerian Conan, Alaric matched up in every way. He was fast, strong, and possessed seemingly supernatural endurance when pushed far enough. Even now, after being physically punished he was still going, slowly adding miles to his count. His attitude towards her was cold and short, but she had noticed the look in his eye when he saw her earlier that afternoon. She would have to see if the legendary barbarian lust bred as true as the physical traits… It would have to wait, however. Al began to slow noticeably eventually dropping to his knees, gasping for breath. It had been six hours of near-constant physical activity and her champion had performed admirably. He pulled the blindfold from his eyes and dragged himself over to a wall to rest, gulping down mouthfuls of water.
"Is that it," he gasped out, looking warily up at her. "Is that all you needed?"
She jotted something down. "I have recorded the results of your physical trials. I shouldn't need anything else from you." He looked relieved, despite the pulsating ache in his muscles. "Will you need help getting back to your apartment?"
"No. I'm just going to sit here for a while. Maybe call a cab… You'll stop bothering me now, right?"
"I will stop pestering you about my experiment, yes. Now, however, I must be getting on with my physical activities. Thank you for your co-operation Alaric Hartmann. Your results were most… Intriguing." She turned on her heel and left him there sitting against the wall, watching her departure. It may have been the exhaustion setting in, but Al could have sworn Wednesday had put a noticeable sway into her hips, an almost hypnotic motion. It was certainly distracting enough to keep him from noticing her backward glance. Wednesday smiled that disturbing little grin of hers, subconsciously licking her lips. So far her wild Cimmerian bull proved to be the perfect specimen. He was physically powerful, intellectually gifted, and quite fun to look at. Yes, she would have to temper his attitude toward her, but the groundwork was already there. He wanted her now, at least physically. Today's little display had seen to that. With the right motivation he would be the perfect companion. Wednesday was an Addams, and an Addams always got what they wanted.
A/N: To those of you who have read my other work, I know I probably shouldn't have started another fic while my other ones have gone untouched. I promise I am working on them. This idea came to me in a dream and begged to be written.