Title: Arrangements (Halloween Variation 07)
Ch: 01 of 02
Author: Lucifer Rosemaunt
Summary: Short ficlet variations on a theme: Halloween meet cute. Not-so-cute meet. Fate is often heavy-handed.
Fandom: Phantom of the Opera
Pairing(s)/Character(s): pre-slash Erik/Raoul, mentions of Christine
Warning(s): supernatural!AU
Word Count: 1,081
Rating: T
o.o.o.o
Being a, if not the terror of the underworld was beginning to prove to be troublesome and in a rather unexpected manner. Erik had done well for himself after the last war, had kept his land and his home, and maintained the grudging sort of respect and power that violence and fear garnered from those around him, enough respect to ward people away from him. They admired the bloodlust and viciousness that was natural for his kind, and he hated how they could revere and shun him at the same time.
He rather preferred the shrieks of the humans when he revealed himself to them. They were more honest with their disgust, although Erik could not deny it was easier at times to use a little of his charm to attract, manipulate, and erase their memories so that they never truly saw him. At least then, he controlled their disregard, the way their eyes would see right through him. He was invisible by his own accord when he hunted, not because he was an outcast for being a freak amongst monsters.
There was one downside to such application of his abilities though; if he controlled their minds when he drank their blood, there was always some emotional or thought transference. It never failed to unsettle him, enrage him in a manner even he knew to be unreasonable. Emotions that would never be directed towards him and singular moments of contentment and joy he would never experience for himself taunted him by his own prey, by mere cattle, by creatures too dumb to run away from a sweet voice and too weak to run when they saw his deformity – and they always saw the deformity before the fangs.
There were very few individuals he had allowed such transference to occur. Currently, there was a sweet young girl, a rather devoted singer in a small village that he frequented often. He came to her window and coaxed her close enough to touch, but his visits were more to listen to her sing and tutor her rather than drink her blood. He would bask in the few memories he had allowed himself to glean off her. He focused on the sheer innocence of her that shone through, unlike so many of her species, and the debilitating sadness that devastated her since her father's death. It was how he had come to know of the Angel of Music and how he had learned to use that to his advantage.
He would rather have her, had been planning it for a while now, instead of some unknown wolf. The only thing that had stopped him from turning her was that he was loathe to take away her vitality when the world had yet to experience her singing, when she could still shine so brightly with a voice that was all his own.
Instead, he had somehow been one of the chosen few to prevent the impending war between his kind and the wolves. It was to be a union between several key packs from the wolves and the most powerful of the broods and to Erik's dismay, himself. He had no brood to speak of, refused to sire any more of his kind when he was certain that the bonds that held such broods together would only eventually destroy itself. But he was strong and well-known.
He could refuse. He could, but the last war, where he had gained much of his reputation for ruthlessly killing both his kind and the wolves and any humans who came between, sat uneasy in his memory. He had wanted no part of that war either; it had not been his to fight, outcast that he was. Yet, he had gotten no peace, and his home had been ransacked and his art damaged. The responsible parties had not lived long enough to revel in such unnecessary destruction, but that mattered little in the aftermath when he'd had to rebuild.
Acceptance to this agreement would be a concession, but it would be a compromise that would least displease him. The letters he had received about the arrangement had assured him that this need not be anything more than in name alone that the wolf was to be his mate. He need only not kill the wolf and allow the mutt to live in his home, share his food, and continue to exist.
Erik was certain the unfortunate mutt had been told to whom he would be mated and rather expected he would be able to never lay eyes on his mate beyond the initial meeting. Surely, the other would want to maintain his distance and work just as hard on his part to make sure their paths did not cross. They would both commit this sacrifice with the least disruption to their lives.
At least Erik was not the party that would have to leave the home he had built for himself. His property was considerable and his house large, all vaulted ceilings, pointed arches, and stained-glass windows that had only ever been illuminated by candlelight. It was his corner of the world, nestled deep in the woods that housed less of the underworld than it had in the past. It was called the Old World, where magic and lore was so deeply ingrained in every living creature and inanimate object that it was said to be the cradle of all life. As the generations of supernatural beings trickled from their roots, the trees watched and never forgot; they still remembered the smell of the air when the world was still young, when their branches could not touch the sky as they did now. They remembered the wars and the bloodshed as well as the armistice and peace. They remembered a forest alive and thrumming with life and not the abandoned shell that was slowly being carved from existence as the humans spawned and consumed.
Erik had made his home under the oldest thicket of trees, old enough that they were able to grasp each other's limbs in a tight embrace to block the sunlight from ever touching the forest floor. The eternal night suited him well despite the long travel it took for him to reach the nearest village, but he need not feed every night and rarely ever left his home to travel far.
He briefly wondered how the wolf would fare under these conditions, but quickly banished it from his thoughts.
It was of no concern to him.
o.o.o.o
End chapter
A/N: Yeah, so this happened and the word count got higher than expected on this (considering it did actually take me a day to write… save for the fact that I need another day for the next chapter. I'm living on the edge here, not mapping this short ficlet out. D: Who needs sleep?). I fully blame phantastichomos on tumblr and Daisy's art. How could I not want something that was vampire!Erik and you obviously know who the werewolf's going to be? :D
Thank goodness this variation set is done. It only took me like the entire month to finish it. And you're still going to have to wait for the next chapter.
Fic Review: Show of hands, who thinks the werewolf that's going to be Erik's mate is going to do his best to avoid him? Yeah, I didn't think so. Either way, you know Erik drew the short end of the stick in that deal the vampire council made with the wolves. Really, it's Erik's own fault though because he made a name for himself as one of the most powerful (and vicious) supernatural being in that forest (it's actually a huge forest and Erik basically carved out a chunk of the land for himself that, like, no one goes into because they're afraid Erik's going to kill them if they do) and you know the council did it geographically, so they needed someone from the deep woods to represent the vampires since it's like one of those places that is mostly populated with vampires (no light) versus the other supernatural creatures especially the werewolves since wolves actually like sunlight and definitely moonlight. So, less verbosely, it totally would have been an affront if they hadn't chosen Erik. It was lose-lose for him either way (it's actually totally going to be a win though; I mean, come on. It's Raoul!).