The artist's funeral pyre
(one-shot...for now)
Summary:
Fire had set her free. In the flames she had surrendered her spirit and it was in the flames her immortality truly began. She was eternal, she was free and she belonged only to him.
Warnings :
Really dark. Dark twisted -psychotic- Klaus. Horror. Tragedy. Non con. Death of character. No happy ending.
(You have been warned!)
.
.
Disclaimer : I own nothing.
Many thanks to my amazing beta Anastasia Dreams. She is an angel!
.
.
.
By my lips into fan air
The smock of my burning
Curling and cursive
Hearts under fire and we're
Going under if we can't be at peace
.
.
.
Blond hair spilled on the pillow and her face contorted in pain.
Her eternal youth no longer lingered on her skin as it was now painted with a grey shade of death. Cruel and permanent. Irrevocable.
Her laughter no longer would echo in his ears and her smile would no longer brighten his world.
Ironically the artist inside him liked her like this. Even in death she was beautiful. Her still body wrapped in silk crimson sheets as her blood had soaked them and changed their color.
He wanted to memorize the picture. To be able to paint it afterwards. This would be his last memory of her. This would be the last time he would lay eyes upon her. So his eyes slowly traveled over the body of his lost lover taking in every detail. Appreciating the stillness; the everlasting beauty of her eternal sleep. Prolonging the moment. He sat next to her and let his fingertips travel over the rough skin. The hardness a contradicting feeling. He was used to touching her soft unblemished skin. Now the ice-cold flesh resembled a marble statue. He kept looking and touching. His hand caressing the dull hair. His fingers curling around the throat that no longer produced any breath.
He wanted to remember. To never forget. To keep this grotesque image of her along with the divine one from the first time he had seen her. Both mental images etched upon his memory forever.
Moments before, she was alive writhing under him; both lost in the throes of passion. Unsuspecting of what was going to happen to her only minutes later. Her skin alight with passion as her legs were tightly wrapped around him. His possessiveness had marked her allowing her to feel safe in his arms and she gave herself freely to him, holding nothing back. He was thrusting into her fiery sheath again and again; he got lost in her scent as the inner flame of her soul burned pure and bright for the last time. Just for him.
This was her own undoing. This was her fault. She had given everything to him. Once he had her she was so different from the girl he kept craving for. Once he had her she had surrendered completely and the challenge was lost. He had conquered her body, her heart and her soul and nothing was left for him to explore. She was weak for allowing him to possess her like this. Too trusting, too naïve.
She was his safety net, his haven. In the darkness she had become his light. But her light had dimmed as he experienced all she had to offer. The net became constricting and the haven became a redundant grey place that held no comfort for him any longer.
He could let her go, but he would never allow such a thing. For her to continue her life away from him would be a fate he would never be able to endure. And at the same time he could not keep on living next to her and allowing her to become an even more uninteresting and dull feature of his life.
He would rather lose her now and have her eternal memory become part of him than to let her live and turn into just an ordinary girl like any other he had met in his long existence. No, she didn't deserve that. She was special. She was meant to be different.
It was a pity that she was just a vampire like any other. Fleeting, fragile, temporary. No dagger would hold her frozen in time. No coffin would keep her safe from the world.
She was not an Original. She was just a girl. His girl for some time and his girl she would remain.
He watched her lifeless body, the exposed breasts and the long neck that were tainted now with his bites. The raw parched skin with the spilled blood over the places he had bitten her were the only signs of violence on her decaying body. The bruises had vanished under the blackened purplish shade that had conquered the once perfect ivory skin.
Every single time they have been together we would taste her and she would indulge in his blood afterwards, but this time he didn't allow her such a privilege. This time his hand had closed around her mouth violently as he pinned her to the bed. This time the poison from his bite would spread and it would force death to flow into her veins and into heart. This time he held her underneath him watching her life slip away from her pleading eyes. Terror had settled in her as she was unable to convince him to spare her.
He held her tight as she cried realizing her destiny. The spasms of her broken body reaching their deadly crescendo. She begged and she fought as he savagely took her body again and again forcing her last moments to be spent for his own pleasure. This was the last gift she could give him and he was greedy enough to take it by force. She belonged to him after all so her death would belong to him too.
He had smiled comfortingly at her as sounds of pain and terror escaped her throat. In those last moments he had taken her in his arms and held her tightly. He whispered stories from their past to her as he stroked her hair tenderly. He had gently kissed her perfectly sculpted lips drawing more blood from her each time and forcing more lethal bites on her skin. His gaze roamed over her as he resisted the urge to heal her. This was for the best.
With her last breath she had breathlessly called his name. And then she was gone.
He was pleased to know that her last moment was dedicated to him and only him.
And now hours had passed and he still watched her corpse that decorated his bed.
The smell of gasoline filled the room as he poured it all around and on her. The liquid sprayed over her spidery grey skin as her lifeless open eyes vacantly gazed off in space. He had already taken the liberty of covering the whole house with the offending substance that would purify and scorch away all the things she had ever touched.
He lit the match and threw it over her form lighting her up. It took less than a moment before instantly born flames started licking and eating away her skin. She looked like she was the embodiment of the sun as the fire swallowed her whole. But he knew better. She could never be the sun for they were not meant to be creatures that walked into the light of day. She had been the moon and the stars for him and now she would become the restless song in his heart that would follow him into the silence of his eternal night. A candlelight in the darkness.
This was Caroline's funeral pyre. The flames were dancing around her, eating her whole. Shadows began battling with the light as the fire roared. The smoke rose taking Caroline's spirit hostage as her resilient flesh started melting away.
The mirage of the blazing fire danced in his eyes as his maniacal gaze hungrily took in the last golden picture of Caroline getting lost into the flames.
"You were the one Caroline," he whispered as he slowly turned around and left.
With each step he felt liberated and free. Behind him his safe haven was turning to ash as the flames conquered the walls and everything inside the mansion. Smoke rose higher and higher. Sparks traveling to the heavens. The fire ripping the air and the oxygen apart. Strange orange glow danced around as the darkness of the eventide was giving its place into the flames.
In the still of the night the house crumbled and fell under the weight of his fiery destruction taking away the woman he had once claimed to love. The woman he loved and cherished. The woman that would now become his most loving remembrance until the end of time.
Now she would always stay his Caroline forever. Untainted by the ordinary. No one would ever have her. No one would ever lay hands or eyes upon her ever again. She would exist only in his drawings. His artistic hands would be the only thing that would return her to life. His obsession would be her only getaway into existence. She would become perfection and no one would ever be able to compete with that. Now she was truly eternal.
He had set her free.
As the centuries passed he always kept a fond memory of the girl with the golden hair that looked like a halo around her in his perfect pictures. She was his masterpiece. He had painted and drawn her countless times. Each time the result getting better than the last.
He couldn't stop drawing her. Her body always surrounded in flames. Her laughter always echoing. Her whispers burning hot in his ears.
And every year at the anniversary of her death he would always take a blond girl with green eyes into his bed. At the dawn flames would rise again and her memory would come to life as her funeral pyre would rise again. He always drew her image afterwards. She was always with him. She was now extraordinary. She always lived in the fire and the artist in him would always bring her back to life at the eve of her death, when her immortality truly began.
Once he had promised her that he intended to be her last, however long it would take.
He had kept his promise.
.
.
.
Shame it's such a …
Shame….when hearts under fire
When hearts under fire…
We're up and free
.
.
.
Song : Lea Luna - Hearts under fire.
A/N : I don't know how I came up with this. Honestly the last weeks have been awful and they obviously influenced my writing and my inspiration.
Forgive any mistakes. My beta went through it but I didn't have the time to work very much with the final cut. So here it is.
If I manage to find some free time I might, eventually, right another part for this story.
Until then thank you for reading ;)