a/n: Disclaimer: I don't own the Musketeers and general vampire concerns.
Note: So... a Vampire-fic, don't flay me on this either. I couldn't help it. :)
Summary: d'Artagnan becomes Milady's pet and helps her in her revenge against Athos with the promise of getting turned in the aftermath. But it appears where vampires and hunters are concerned, things aren't as simple.
Chapter includes (warning/spoilers): [Milady/d'Artagnan]; vampire/human relations, sexual context, blood consumption.
the M~U~S~K~E~T~E~E~R~S - S~R~E~E~T~E~K~S~U~M eht
Your Death is My Life
Chapter 1: —
He laid back against the slanted roof, his knees raised and planted feet keeping him from sliding down the sharp angle. He watched as the sun finally fell to sleep below the horizon of dead, gnarled trees, bare of leaves or flowers, indications of beauty and thriving life. The last colours of the ball of light faded and switched to darker, drabber swaths of colours. Blacks, greys, dark violets.
He wondered how many more sunsets he'd be allowed to witness, or the sunrises that he favoured. The warmth that filled even this dead stock of woods was a breathtaking experience. The colours weren't something that could be replicated, no matter how many sloppy attempts his Mistress had encouraged in him.
He felt it as she started to awaken, that string that bound them, hooked into his abdomen. It tugged, and he raised his legs, effectively releasing his anchor and he started his fast decent. The rough shingles scraping through his shirtsleeves didn't bother him. And then the roof ended, and he was shot into the air.
He contorted his body, twisting and flipping through the air for the fast fall from the highest part of the old house, the tower, to the fast coming ground, a light laugh on his lips. As graceful and flexible as he was as a regular human, with the blood of his Mistress in his veins, his current act was extraordinarily so. He bent his knees, bracing for impact. It jarred his knees, the momentum carried him into a shoulder roll and he popped harmlessly back onto his feet. A jump like that would have killed a normal person at most, or broke their legs at the lest.
He gave a flourishing bow to the none existent applause and audience, and turned his back to the contorted, weathered trees and towards the house. It appeared old and desolate, condemned, but when he crested the threshold, the inside was a completely different manner. The pallet was made from a deep red. Rugs covered the bare floorboards. All the windows were boarded up tightly, and thick, dark curtains hid any seeping daylight and the view from sight. Vampires were night creatures, the sunlight could kill them if they weren't careful. The furniture was older, but still comfortable and laid in their precise places.
He toed off his boots at the door.
The place was impersonal. It didn't hold a family-feel, there were no portraits on the walls, what pictures there were, were of flowers—or more precisely: forget-me-nots. He guessed that it was a favouritism from when she was human.
He stopped briefly by the mantelpiece and struck a match, lighting the wick of the candles, one by one. Though his sight was keener with her blood, he still had his limitations. The soft flame from the lit candles around the room cast a warm aura that didn't exist in the place. The fireplace added a warmth that her body couldn't feel, that only human blood, his blood, could foster.
His Mistress or Milady de Winter as he knew her, had a pickier taste when she was allowed. It was his job to go into the city and get her a donor when she decided not to feed from him. It was more difficult, of course, to an unwilling donor, especially one of high quality that might get noticed if they went missing suddenly—but what she asked for, she received.
He took a single lit candle from the candelabrum and headed for the stair. Her lair—bedroom—was upstairs. The house didn't hold a basement. This area, in the wet season, was prone to flooding. It was a 'wet woods', so the house was built on a platform of sorts.
Her room was especially crafted, cut into two sections. One portion was closed near completely without a window and a reinforced door for entry; it was essentially a coffin without actually being a literal one. (It could only be secured from the inside). It held the enclosed bed that she slept on during the daylight hours. The other section of the room, was her 'night bed', wardrobe, desk, vanity, settee.
The old steps creaked lightly under his weight. She'd have heard it, but with her hearing, she would have already heard him coming down form the roof. He crested the top landing of the stairs and walked down the hall. He had his own room, of course, but it was entirely unelaborated. A bed to sleep on, a chest for his clothes, and a small desk.
He opened the door to her room, and in the faint light of the candle, he could see her on the 'night bed' already waiting for him like she did every night. He stepped in and closed the door, putting the gently melting candle in the empty holder on the desk by the door. Though vampirism enhanced beauty, she was that even before.
After the slumber of the day, she would wake up parched and hungry. He made his way over to the bed, pulling his shirtsleeves overhead and crawled into the plush bed next to her.
"You were playing outside again," she murmured, her voice smoky. Her long, polished fingernail trail up his arm and over the thin flesh at his neck, scraping the flesh lightly. He shivered at the attention, his heart pace picking up.
"I like to watch the sun set."
"Mmm." She breathed, something that her body didn't need to do now, but was done out of habit. "Eager for me to wake, are we?" Her irises were a deep red of hunger. As soon as she fed, they would fade back to the hue they were when she was a human.
"Can you blame me?" he answered.
In response, she pushed his head back, perhaps father than strictly necessary. The skin pulled taut, she could see every contour of his throat, his Adam's apple clearly as he swallowed, his windpipe (something she could crush with just a simple push of her thumb if she so wished). She parted her lush red lips and sharp white fangs were revealed.
She leaned over the young man, and the razor sharp edges of her fangs dragged across the delicate flesh over the artery in his neck. She could feel his reaction, in his body, the pulse of his heart, his quickening blood. Though she could be the fearful creature that she was, that wasn't what he was feeling at the moment. But instead of biting there, she trailed her mouth downward.
His breath hitched as her chin grazed his nipple, and then felt a sharp pain as her fangs pierced the flesh above. What initial pain there always was, quickly vanished as his blood flowed and she started to drink.
Sometimes, when she was in a mood, she made the feedings painful. Other times, it lead to sexual completion. He was as good a lover as any she had. He was handsome, fit, young. He knew what she liked. He tasted delicious; a mixture of earth tones, light. She didn't have much to complain for.
"Milady.' He was breathing heavily by the time that she finally pulled back. The punctures automatically healing from her saliva. It took a control that he didn't know he had, not to rut against her like a dirty dog as her hands had wandered during her feeding. If she had wanted it to end in sex, he would have known it.
There was silence between them as they laid next to each other. Her, dealing with the satisfaction of a good feeding, her eyes fading from tinted red to jaded green of her human life. And him, light-headed and aroused.
Finally, she pricked the pad of her finger with the sharp point of her fang, and a ruby red bead swelled on the fingerprint. d'Artagnan's eyes were transfixed on it as he laid back. He parted his lips and opened his mouth awaiting as her hand hovered above him. She smirked at his eagerness for her blood. And she let two drops fall. d'Artagnan inhaled as the cold blood hit his warm tongue, and he swallowed
His eyes fluttered in response as he felt the immediate effects of the blood, as little as he was given. Blood, fresh and directly from the source could be a potent thing—especially if one was given it on a regular basis. It never lost the high he felt each time, the new energy coursing through his blood, the strength hardening his muscles, how any cobwebs of the day cleared from his brain, tiredness vanished. And not to forget the arousal.
It took him a moment to react as more drops pattered against his lips, and his tongue quickly swept them up.
Panting a little, trying to ignore the hardness in his trousers, he looked over at her. "Is something happening? You gave me more blood than usual."
She smirked. "We're going on a little hunt, my pet." She never called him by his name. "A certain Spaniard that my husband has attachments to."
d'Artagnan's interest piqued at that. The last encounter that she had with her husband had nearly killed her and had left her weak, vulnerable. It was near then that she'd found himself at such a time in his life; broken and alone—and thus their relationship had formed from mutual benefits. He became her pet, fed her and did all the things that she was unable to now that she was a vampire. And she made him stronger than he was, helped him gain revenge on the men who had murdered his father and mother.
As soon as her husband was finally dead, she had sworn to change him. It had never been his life-goal to become a vampire. Gascony was his home and he had intended to stay there. Find a sweet girl and marry her, having a clutch of kids. He wanted them to have siblings like he never did, like his parents never got the chance to. He work on the farm with his father, who would then retire at a very old age while he took things over. But over recently, his perspective on life had changed, his purpose.
Hunters had ruined his life, he only thought it just that he ruin theirs by teaming up with the very thing that they worked to kill.
[tbc]
the M~U~S~K~E~T~E~E~R~S - S~R~E~E~T~E~K~S~U~M eht
End Note: I just went through the Gauntlet with my zombie fic and barely came out alive—and apparently, a little crazy as well. I'm taking up the vampire Stake now. Please, tell me what you think. I have taped my fingers crossed. :)
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