Fangs and Wings: A Mixed Blood's Story

I was not always so mean, I was not always so terrified that someone would find and kill me, I was not always so lonely. Once, I was happy, friendly, sweet, and loved. My world was shakn by a great war that took place over the Elyasian Fields of my home land in The Unseelie Court. The war was between the fairies and the vampires. It lasted for 35,603 years and I was only alive for 300 of them. The final, 300 of the years. I was born to a woman who was raped by a vampire in a blood lust. she managed to live by her magic and captured him under a grand willow tree, the tree had been alive since the time before the magicless beings called mortals came to be.

When the vampire woke from his rage he saw how badly he had hurt the fairy. He was just young and had never wanted to hurt anyone. He had been drafted into this fight, forcibly trained, and then sent into a rage. He was not supposed to have lived, but because my mother would never let osmeone get away with the injustice of rape, he did; but not without a price. He saw the traces of himself left on her body, and cried. In my father's opinion she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, and I would have to agree. My mother was tall, standing at 5'7" with long wavy honey blonde hair and summer sky blue eyes. Her figure was full and curvy, her skin soft and pale. My mother's voice though, that was the most beautiful thing I had ever known. It was soft and melodical, but low and calming. I miss her very much.

My father was even taller, standing at 6'7" and weighing 250 pounds of pure undiluted muscle. His hair was obsidian and his eyes where a silvery red. His skin was scarred and pale, but must have been tan when he was human, because his face held freckles and some wrinkles. He had a hearty laugh and a deep, resounding voice that called attention and garnered respect. He was strong and fast, but kind when you got past his cocky smile and sarcastic personality. He was more sensitive than people outside our little home would ever know, crying because he ran over a squirrle, or because he felt my pain at a scrapped knee, or because the night sky was too beautiful for words. He was a wonderful father.

Anyway, I allowed my descriptions to distract me. He cried when he saw how much he had hurt the fairy woman whom would birth me later that year. She saw him and walked towards him. "Monster. You break into my home, grab me from my bed, take me from my home, and force yourself upon me, taking my blood and my virtue. You defiled my body with your seed and my soul with your fangs. You deserve no better than death for your deeds; yet now you cry seeing the havoc you have reeked. Why? What gives you the right to cry with an undead soul at the absolute HELL You have brought upon me?!" My mother was screaming towards the end, shaking with rage and crying her eyes out. She was covered in her own blood, especially between her legs. Her nightgown was ripped and her skin bruised and cut.

My father hung his head in shame. "Dear Lady, I have no right to live for my misdeeds, you are correct. I am nothing but a monster, a horrible creature that feeds on the life of others. If I could undo what I have done I would, I swear on all I hold dear that I would. I weep not for fear of what will happen to me, but out of sympathy and sorrow for the beauty I have defiled. If I live through this, I will stand by your side until you force me to leave. If you are pregnant, I will support you and our child. I will never let anyone harm you again. If you choose for my death, I will bequith my wealth and everything I have to you and the child as payment for the life I created. I am so sorry..." his voice faded and crackled with the weight of his sorrow. My mother's heart melted quickly and she sighed heavily.

"You will live, and you will stay by my side. I could use a protector and if I am pregnant no child should have to live without their father. I do not love you, and I do not know you, so you and I will live in seperate rooms until we can decide if we love eachother or not. We cannot stay here, because the war will result in our deaths. We must go to the mortal realm and live there. I will make a bed for you for tonight and we will leave in the morning. Agreed?"

"Yes, I thank you for your decision." He said as she released him and they went to my mother's home. She brought down pillows and blankets for him to sleep on the couch and made the couch for him to sleep on, and she went to her room, locking the door and putting the dresser infront of it. She knew it wouldn't do much, but it would do enough. She went and showered then slept till morning. In the morning she woke up, packed her bags and left her room to find my father. He was awake and paceing, when he saw her his eyes lit up and he smiled brightly. At that moment, she knew he was her other half, the thing spoken of in hushed wispers at slumber parties and in locker rooms, the thing we scoff but secretly hope to be true; he was her life mate. She walked over to him, and let him hold her, her fear and anxiety disapearing as she was held, smelling his scent and feeling his skin. She sighed in contentment.

My father would never had told her the truth, that all night he paced the room, trying to stay away from her door, from going into her room and laying by her sleeping form and holding her close. He wanted to be by her side and to know she was safe. He knew from the time she released her magic that bound him to the tree that he was hers, she was his, and they needed each other. They left through a portal and arrived three miles outside of a decent sized village, appearing in the thick of a wooded area, out of sight. My father held my mother's hand as they walked into the village and my father took my mother to his home. He took everything worth either a personal or monetary value to himself and clothes, he took the bed linens and his weapons trunk. Loading the carriage with his items and the few my mother had from her home, he rigged up the horses and in the unmarked carriage, they left to begin a new life. They traveled for many days before settling into an area of England that was far enough away from towns to not be quickly found, but close enough to towns to be a good area.

My father build a medium sized, two story cottage in a medow. twenty yards from the house on any side was nothing but forest, save for the front upon which my father build a dirt and stone road, to lead towards and away from the house. He build a fence around the back of the house, made of stone. The cottage itself was made of white sand stone, cobble stone, heavy red oak wood, and a thick sod and stone roof. The windows held glass and the door was thick and heavy. It had a wrot iron handle and a heavy knocker. He build a barn for the horses and carriage, and dug a deep well that would last many, many years. The outside got plenty of sun and he dug a large garden in the back yard, the grass around our home grew with wild flowers and the forest ebbed a cooling breeze during even the hottest day.

The inside of the house was even more beautiful, the walls where smooth with the sand stone with stairs and the floor made of red oak. There was a large stone fireplace and a decent sized kitchen. He build a couch of wood and stuffed linens, and made a large bed for mother and himself from the same wood and a soft down matress, he also crafted my crib and a guest bed. He crafted every item of furnature we had and my mother decorated the house with wild flowers, painting she made, and candles she scented with herbs. It was home, and it was wonderful. I was born one harsh winter, when my parents where at home with no way to get to a doctor, due to the heavy snows. My mother screamed in agony as I broke her fragil body into the body of a birthing mother. My father held her hand and told her to push as he watched for my birth. Three hours passed like this, my mother panting and crying, my father wiping her forhead with a cool cloth and telling her how muched he loved her and to breathe and push. At midnight I was born, a blood-covered, screaming, fanged, winged, baby boy. My mother cooed her joy as she held me to breast and my father's chest swelled with pride at seeing me, his offspring. I was pale, small, and fragil. My eyes where hazel and my hair was a dark chocolate brown with blonde highlights. My lips where a perfect bow and soft pink. My wings where black, blue, and purple, delicate as the wings of a moth in appearance but hard and scalled as a dragon's wings. My fangs where smaller than an average vampire child's, curved like a cat's and stark white. I looked like the strangest yet most beloved thing they had ever beheld, according to their words.

I was happy with my family as I grew, never knowing hunger, neglect, or loneliness. I was loved very dearly and well educated. I was so happy until the day I turned 17, thats when everything changed. I had always known I was different; I was gay, I had both fairy magic and vampireic abilities, I was 5'6" and 145 pounds, muscular and pale, I was fragil and I had difficulty drinking blood. I was not a normal fairy nor a normal vampire, and I certainly was not a normal human. My parents loved me despite all my flaws and made me so happy. I don't remember much of that evening; mother made my favorite dinner, broccolise, cheese and chicken cassarole, apple fritters, and biskets with chicken gravey; father got a bottle of wine to let us drink since I was 17 that day and it was time, mother made a strawberry shortcake, and we had a blast. I went to bed around twelve as I was accustomed to, and fell into a deep and happy sleep knowing my parents where in their rooms being happy together and always near by if I ever needed them. If only I could keep that feeling of bliss and safety...