DISCLAIMER:NARUTO and all its canon-characters belong in its entirety to the genius that is Kishimoto-Sensei. Therefore, I have no rights whatsoever where that entire tale is concerned, no matter how much I wish I did. However, I can just borrow her characters and place them in situations that I have concocted. After all, that is the prerogative of every fan fiction writer, right?

AUTHORS NOTE: This was my very first story and as such it holds a great deal of significance for me. During various times, at certain points of writing this tale I found myself amused, wary, weary and very much attached to the tale. Often times though, I think I got lost but I've always believed that I would find the time to review what I have written and see if there is room for me to fix the errant and stray thoughts that invade what should have been a smoothly flowing story.

That being said, this is not a virgin—excuse the terminology—text, meaning I have used it before on another fiction. Rest assured the words are mine—right and true—but I created it initially for another fandom and another pair. However, the thread of inspiration that once fueled its birth died out and for the life of me I couldn't find any means to revivify it.

Until I stumbled across the pairing for a bright ball of noisy sunshine and his equally gloomy, me-against-everybody-and everything emo-wreck of a rival. I have labored and argued and debated long and hard against myself whether I was willing to rework something I once made for this shipping instead of creating something new.

And then I realized—the words I have once woven remains true regardless of the pairing they highlight. The words—the story I gave birth to deserves a chance to find completion and perhaps this pair would do it for me. I owe this story every chance I could give it.

So selfish as this quest may be, I can only ask that you, dear readers, be kind and patient enough to give it a try. Who knows, maybe you and I both would discover something magical and new and rewarding within the pages and lines of this story. Let us wish for the best. I await your judgment eagerly.

Prologue

Hunting A la Mode

They call me by many names…cognomens and sobriquets of varying levels of courtesy and varied colors of disdain…

I have been awarded numerous labels…titles bestowed due to services rendered, merit conferred or in honor of the clan name I bore due to the accident of birth. None of these matter to me any more though…not a lot of things matter to me anymore these days.

To those whose company I do not despise or learned to, I am called Sasuke. To those who do not belong to my privileged few—the names I am called are diverse and imaginative and dependent upon their gender, wealth, influence or the insult I have heaped upon their annoying selves.

I am also known by yet another, more definitive designation.

I and my kind are known by many names created by imagination and myths. Our most banal of monikers call us vampire…a simplistic name derived from an even more mundane mind. Typical of the sheep that feeds my populace.

They invented fanciful name to call us, the need to know and master all that lies before them was a foolishness my kind never understood where human are concerned. We knew them for what they are—foolish, ignorant children who never paid heed to the truth that we are no more than mere anomalies of nature—an outright defiance of the natural order—an insolent existence that makes a mockery of life and death and all that it means for those denied it.

But that truth is neither here or there. No…for tonight none of that matters…tonight all that you need to know is that this is the tale of how my immortal life came to an end…

Yes, you read it right…

It came to an end. And here is where it started it all...or at least where I wish for you to start...

Romania in the year 1400…

Blood and Death…

From the moment I first drew breath and witnessed all that the world had to offer the truth of blood and death were all the truth I have ever known…Its presence and unassailable existence…the genuineness and certainty of it was the only truth that pervaded my world, my entire being…the knowledge that I was born of it…from it and for it…and for the longest time I was content for my reason for being…I had known no other and desired no other. It was simply enough that there is an explanation that could satisfy my mind and a reason for being that could ease whatever oubliette passes for my soul.

Black and red…

Silvery hues in the light of the waning moon…they were the first colors I have memory of…snatches of images from a world painted in garish, glaring hues that seemed to characterized my entire existence…of reds so dark they're indistinguishable from black and blackness so dense and consuming no threat of light could ever truly pierce its heart.

Give me…Mine…More…

These were the first words to ever come out of my lips…they are still the only words whose meaning has never proven itself false or deceitful to me unlike everything else that I have learned…from the moment I have been sent out in to the world every utterance spoken by my sinful lips and every thought concocted in my mind has either been cleverly spoken lie and tools for manipulation…I have learned early on to excel at both…truth was a concept as unfamiliar to me as the notion of being mortal.

Betrayal and killing…

Hunting prey was a game I excelled at… manipulating those around me was an exercise for my mental faculties, one I took obscene pleasure in perfecting, if only to extract the most morbid and tragic of results that could be brought about...

Everyone else exists simply as pieces for me to play with—living, breathing pawns on my varied and extensive game board…and when the need for physical stimulation comes into play my body has the hunt that every creature given the Dark Gift participates in…it is both excruciatingly amusing humiliating fledglings and satisfying my appetites…and I revel in the fact that there was no one better than me at it.

I am a killer born…

It is my one task…my one purpose in life…I do not fall prey to the moral dilemma that burdened a few of our kind…so many of them feel the faintest traces of shame whenever they face the need to hunt, though a fair few revel in the freedom of being outside the rules and confining strictures that are part and parcel of what they call humanity…

I find this feature among fledglings a repulsive weakness that comes from being mortal once…It is to my eternal blessing that I have never known such a repugnant weakness never having been reborn as most denizens of the Savage Garden. I was born of the night and birthed from its cold, unforgiving womb…those like me—untainted by the burden of passing mortality therefore feel no regret when we take a life…and fear no retribution for how we feast on the mortals that gathered to our side…drawn to the unearthly mask that fate gave me and those of my kind.

I don't see the existence of our kind—either born or made—as a curse so many of them grew to believe in nor do I perform the hunt like some kind of sport…competing with others like me for the blood of mortals like lowly wolves after cattle…just for the thrill of knowing they still live.

Bah…plebeian mindset created by mundane minds. I hunted simply to feed and hone skills that have helped me survive the passing of time and I prowled the realms of mortals because doing so pleased me. Immortal life offers many riches and pleasures and I was willing to take my time to sample each and every one with delicacy befitting my noble class.

The only thing that I actively avoided was confronting innocence. I loathed them like the light of the sun is loathed by those of my kind…and no, not because of the nonsense propagated by silly scribes of myths and lore…my kind avoid the sun because the blinding light illuminates far too well the unearthly physical appeal of that is possessed of my brethren. Our shells lure our prey to our side much like the taunted sirens of old. We avoid the light because it would show the world far too well what we are not and what we can never be—entirely human.

Innocence is the same way to me—something troublesome and best steered clear off. Nothing could rouse my fury more than the presence of an innocent mortal in the arms of my kindred…played like some hapless toy…strung along like a time-bound marionette, like a willful baby playing with its food.

Let me make it clear that it is not because I pitied the weak creatures or because I felt some hypocritical sense of justice…it was simply that their existence incensed me…their blind notion that they are more worthy…more deserving simply because they were untainted by the spell of the night…because they can escape the curse of being born in the Savage Garden. Their very blindness ignites my enmity—their faith in the benevolent hand of fate that would somehow deliver them into an existence that is better and more than they deserve infuriate me because it only goes to show that we are right to treat them no more than mere livestock.

It infuriates me to be accosted by innocents. For them, a quick death was not an act of mercy I extend but rather an act of revulsion…an unpleasant chore dealt with in the most expedient manner. Death for an innocent was done as quickly as possible—not because I was compassionate…it was because above all else, I am an efficient weapon…among the best out there ever. I refuse to be anything but masterful at my chosen way of life.

I had no other longings or wants save for the life essence that fulfills me...no desire unexplored, no knowledge no matter how obscure or arcane unknown nor any hunger—be it of the mind or the body that remains unsatisfied...I fear no one and hailed no one and nothing as my master. I was a law onto myself and recognized no power save my own.

I am Prince of the Coven and prized Heir of the Immortals...

Beloved by nobles and feared among the lowly fledglings that quivered and stuttered whenever I would pass, prostrating themselves to the floor at the mere mention of my name and scrambling to do my every whim and bidding. I had the entire Immortal world in my grasp. I had everything my heart desired...there was nothing they could've or would've denied me. I was their everything. The moon and their evening star. I had everything any immortal could have wanted and more. At least that was I thought…until that one night.

London, England...1837

The hunger is riding me…stronger, ever more demanding with each drawing of a breath and ever more ardent as when I felt for the first time the stirrings that marked my passage between slumber and awareness…that exact moment when I first opened my twilit-born eyes and felt the sweet compelling seduction of the night and I found myself to be helpless once more against the siren song of the night…falling prey like all those that dwell in the Savage Garden…

My hand trembled slightly but I paid it no mind…concealed beneath the fall of priceless, black lace that hid seemingly fragile wrists and fingers with nails that lengthened into crystalline talons I await for the perfect moment... my sensitive, delicate fingers clenching and flexing in anticipation... already feeling the undeniable desperation for the feel of soft, warm yielding flesh…of fevered skin just waiting to be pierced, marked and torn apart.

There…a familiar and eagerly anticipated scent…the perfume of fresh eager prey…the unmistakable bouquet of someone tainted with the exquisite markings of lasting, undeniable sin…

A moment passes…a single gust of cold wind and the hunt is truly begins…

A few minutes invested in coy flirtation and whispered titillating conversation in shadowed corners and here I was, reaping the benefits of my carefully orchestrated seduction… following slowly the hulking figure in front of me as I was led by the hand to the darkened alleys on a seedier part of one of London's exclusive streets…my step is sure and swift and light, never making sure to never lose sight of my prey…a large hand clasped around my own, their owner unaware and unmindful of the sharp claws that lie a mere hairsbreadth away from its vulnerable wrist.

As always my shell served as the perfect lure. A whispered phrase or two in a deep sultry voice that was oft likened to sin itself, a heated glance from deep, dark pair of eyes and a shy retreat would always guarantee me a more than willing prey. And as oftentimes as I hunted, the prey that takes my lure were gifted with undeniable beauty themselves, much like this one tonight—a vigorous man at the height of his twenty sixth year of life, gifted with a strong firm physique thick sable colored mane and warm brown eyes.

This night's prey was reared from the finest bloodstock of English—witty, affluent and educated in both manners and speech and living in the midst of the privileged echelons, he was much a treasure to those that knew him as to those who wish to be like him. A most suitable gentleman beyond any visible reproach; a paragon of English society.

But alas, that was not all there was to him. That would've been altogether all too simple and altogether too boring. Oh no...my current quarry has far more darker and delicious reason for being chosen…reasons that made him so suitable for whatever I have planned for tonight under the gilding light of the waxing moon.

No…such petty listing of material or filial wealth holds no sway for me. My partner for this night is a prey that satisfies my own peculiar and distinct palate for reasons that few could find logic or reason in. My desires are simple and to the point—I hunt game with hearts that are blacker than a raven's wing and more poisoned than a witch's brew. I desire most of all a prey that is corrupted beyond atonement or contrition…I crave a prey that would best fulfill my thirst as a true connoisseur of the darkest of human natures.

I hunt sinners just like me…

This one in particular, tonight's tasty morsel is a minor lord of the realm and third in line for some obscure title of no veritable significance, made sport out of forcing himself on little boys and teens barely out of full puberty. A true, blue-blooded predator of men in the vilest, most corrupted sense of the word—a monster clad in clothing made of wealth and physical beauty.

It was no surprise that this deprived child of the nobility gave in to the titillation I so eagerly and freely offered. The subtle, titillating challenge of claiming an undeniable innocent that I so convincingly portrayed was a lure too hard for him to resist. The warm, rosy blush that suffused my beautiful pale face as if held in thrall by abject chagrin, my cheekbones stained with the unmistakable sheen that couldn't be mistaken for anything else but the flush of an innocent youth held in the throes of a lover's impassioned embrace.

Ahhh…what a delicious sight I made…what alluring illusion I so thoughtfully concocted for tonight's quarry. A most suitable lure to begin my night's tête-à-tête. Is it any wonder that this corrupt lord found the idea of having someone like him all to himself so undeniably tempting?

Having to hold back my baser nature for some weeks, the thought of finally slaking off my thirst was making me giddy. Even I couldn't hide completely the unholy gleam that burned behind my unusual jeweled eyes, though I was still cautious enough never to look at people directly, instead, I gazed at them from beneath the shadow of my thick ebony lashes, making my gaze even more alluring to those fortunate enough to meet it.

I could smell the animalistic excitement in the faint sweat that tainted my chosen target and I licked my lips in anticipation. Already I could feel my fangs growing; elongating as if it too could sense the close proximity of its chosen fare… puncturing the softer flesh inside my mouth as my tongue swiped at them in unconscious excitement...

I was holding on to the barest thread of my waning patience as already the thrill of anticipation rides me unceasingly…the reality that soon I will be taking in the warmth of living essence once more floods my mind with the images of unbridled pleasure the kind none of my kind could ever fully verbalize.

And yet, throughout this sensory overload, I have kept enough self-possession to ensure that my exterior façade remained poised and in control. With the exception of the pale rosy tint that painted my cheeks, and the veiled fire in my gaze there was no sign of the hunger that raged within me. My countenance remained aloof, divorced from the happenings around me—it was as if I was somewhere else and not there in the boundaries that marked the edge where the finest bloodlines of the realm converge with the dregs of civilized society and roam freely.

The creature that led me suddenly turned at a corner and pinned me to a nearby wall startling me for but a moment…warm, trembling hands brushed across pale alabaster cheeks before reaching up to loosen the ties of my midnight hair, letting the cool silken locks slide over my shoulders like liquid shadows. Eager hands gripped my cravat, tearing the fragile cloth in the man's haste to have me bared to those fevered eyes, pulling at my coat and ripping my linen shirt until one snowy shoulder was exposed to the chill of the night air.

Warm eager lips tried to catch my own but I evaded the move smoothly, placing my own against the warmth of my captor's neck instead, nuzzling and biting until I heard the telltale moan. A breath was caught in someone's throat…a muffled gasp…a brief struggle and a blushing youth is now held in the cage of a pair of strong arms, frail hands clasped delicately around the side of the hunched figures neck, seemingly soothing the creatures heaving breath as lips fastened on the other side of the man's neck, a face concealed to all that passes by as I gently nuzzled against the warmth I found there.

Quickly I parted my lips, baring my fangs and brought it down swiftly against the exposed flesh, ripping the yielding skin and allowed the hot gush of arterial blood to flood my mouth and quench my never-ending thirst.

Ahhh…How long has it been since I last allowed myself to partake of the sweet, sweet elixir of life? How long has it been since I have loosened the chains of my control enough to savor once more the intoxicating draft of humanity's distilled essence?

My eyes were half closed, glazed over by the drugging sensation of drinking in the life-essence of my chosen, well deserved other…I realized belatedly that I was purring…an unwonted action I was known to do whenever a particularly delightful hunt comes to a satisfying conclusion. The knowledge hovered briefly on the periphery of my consciousness as I allowed myself to be lost in the sensation of satiation, drunk on the near-forgotten pleasure of partaking in this forbidden hunt that I have denied myself for so long.

Moments turned into long minutes. People passed by, glancing at this scene quickly before turning away just as fast. Voices rose in curiosity, then dismissal and then murmured outrage and disdain. The sight wasn't all that unfamiliar…a man settling my business with any of the many nighthawks thatplied their trade in the shadows of London happened every night at near identical nooks and crannies everywhere else. Perhaps this one was simply in too much of a rush to even observe the propriety of getting a room for the night and simply took what he paid for in the covered anonymity of an alley.

And yet, if only the human traffic that ebbed, flowed and pulsed along that darkened corner paused for a minute more than necessary to draw their next breath they would've noticed that the embracing lovers were not the traditional sort. The smaller of the two, though undeniably beautiful and stylishly clad, was not female. And though this was not an unheard of case, there was something quite odd about their bodies' intimate pose.

The younger of the two seemed to be pinned by the huge hulking form of the other. A closer look would've revealed that instead of an impassioned hold of a not-so innocent lover, it was a hand with bloodstained talons that was clasped around the man's neck. The boy that nuzzled against the older figure's neck had its mouth open, blood staining the corners of my thin lips as he continued my rabid suckling.

Many minutes passed and then there was blessed silence, the sight of the entwined lovers forgotten in light of more important sights and matters. Then the night was once more disturbed by the staccato sounds of well-shod feet hitting the cobblestone paths. An elegantly arrayed young man with pale, gleaming hair tied back by a red velvet ribbon and elegant, entirely black evening clothes strolled out from the shadows seemingly born from it. The young gentleman's face was concealed under the brim of a top hat, showing only a faint smile on his handsome face and an unholy vermillion glow in his gem like eyes.

I whistled a happy tune as I walked to nearby mansion. There was nothing to indicate, at first glance, to reveal that I was the same youth that mere moments ago was locked in a less than innocent embrace. However a more discerning eye might see the unmistakable tinge left by my recent episode—the unmistakable crimson hue that taints my usually pale lips. With a sensuous lick, I cleaned away the final evidence of my recent repast before I entered the brilliantly lit ballroom.

The night was young and the hunt has only begun…time for my next prey to be hunted down…time to lose myself once more in the games of the night.

And that's what I did…what I have done for every night for the next century or two. I flitted about throughout the many many cities populated by humankind, always lying just on the fringes of their bright glittering lives, preying upon their blackest, most tainted of daughters and sons.

There was no challenge left unconquered, no satisfaction unrequited in my immortal existence and yet through it all I have suddenly grown bored...life offered no thrills anymore. I had no responsibility and no duty but to be the rightful Heir and that is something even a fool could manage with one eye closed. I wanted more from my Immortal Life. I needed more from the nights than it has yielded to me thus far.

And then THAT night...the night when everything precious and sacred to me was stolen by treacherous hearts aided by mundane mortal hands. The night when my whole world was stripped of all meaning and I found that immortality was a prison I couldn't wait to escape. And so I sought the very thing that would destroy me. I sought to fulfill the impossible.

I sought for a chance to change what I am—to change what was meant to be-to change my fate.

The day they told me to seek out and fulfill a single, insignificant task was the day I began to change. It should have been insignificant chore if I hadn't been so affected by what I did and saw back then. But I was. That was the first time I tasted defeat. The first time I tasted pain. It was a lesson I learned all too well. After that nothing again was ever the same. I am Prince of the Coven...Heir to the Immortals. And I wanted no part of them. Not after that one incident that changed everything for me.

Many arguments broke out after my change of heart. Many moons they waged arguments and threats of war but I had no time for them. I had only time for my own needs...my own thoughts...my own darkness finally consuming me.

In the end I chose banishment over ruling...despite the many pleas and threats of the Council. None of it held sway over my decision. And though in the Coven's eyes I was theirs to cajole and tempt into ruling, to mine they were as useless and annoying as buzzing gnats upon a rotting corpse. Words flowed from many lips, spoken by many tongues, promising me everything under the red moon and the hell below—save the very heavens itself—but I was deaf to it all. I do wish they had listened to me. But they did not. And so now they wait, hoping still that I would change my mind and see how important I was to the Coven.

Pity that they couldn't see that they weren't that important in mine.