The Lord of the house sat upon his throne with about as much enthusiasm as a teen boy waiting for his mother to finish trying on clothes at a store would have. He was slumped to one side with his chin on his knuckles. He let out a yawn that was purposely loud to unnerve the humans nearby. It was important that they knew how displeased he was with the other immortals for being as late as they were. Not that the humans could help that, but it was always fun to make them squirm.

His cold blue eyes watched the door at the end of the long room, though they were growing dull and tired from all the waiting. He wasn't known for being patient in any capacity of the word, but in truth, the servants were beginning to grow uneasy as well. They were curious to see who his newest human would be and it had been many weeks since the three immortal vassals left to collect someone for their Master. He demanded someone more sturdy this time. The last one had only been useful for him for a couple years before she collapsed for the final time and he would not be having that again. The two humans both believed it would have to be a man, of course. But would the idiots who left be able to bring someone the Master would actually approve of? They could only hope. For everyone's sake.

This time, the Lord made a point to send Brock Rumlow with two lower vassals. Rumlow was the Lord's most capable underling by far. Had he been born with the blood of the night-children, instead of simply bitten, he would easily have been able to usurp the throne of the King. That's why the Lord adored him so for these missions. He could capture any human he damn well pleased with very little resistance. For one hundred years he had been collecting humans worthy of the Lord's fangs.

Said fangs clicked with a tad bit of excitement as the doors finally opened and he lifted his head a bit from its relaxed position to eye the men as they dragged the new captive into the room. But the small smile the Lord had gotten faded quickly when he caught the smell of the man's blood, "What is this? You bring me a boy?"

"My Lord, no!" the man on the right squeaked! They were sure they'd brought him a good one! He continued carefully, "He is young, but he is tall and strong. It took us a long while to get him in these chains."

"He is pathetic. Not even three decades." the Lord growled.

The one on the left cowered a little, but managed to speak, "My Lord, the second decade is a strong one for humans! Your two at your side are similar in age!"

"They are not for blood! They are my servants. He was to be my Bloodsource!"

The humans hung their heads to avoid looking at the man that was brought. He was indeed a tall, strong looking human. His dirty blonde hair and blue eyes made him a looker, too. But they only caught a glance. He, however, was eying everyone in the room.

The man yelling at his captors seemed to be in charge. He could only imagine he was the strongest of these supposed vampires. There was no need for him to try to blend in with the humans on the outside, so his clothing was far more elegant than the jeans and hoodies on the morons who found him. A long, beautifully crafted long Jacket. A finely spun vest. One singular glove for some reason… A goofy scarf around his neck. All in all, for a vampire, he seemed to fit the part. But as the man didn't look any older than the captive, the latter couldn't help but think he was, well… a jerk.

As for the other two humans, they looked near his age as well. A beautiful woman with long, dark hair that had some pretty waves in it. Her curves were perfect. Her lips were coated with a blood red colour that accented her entire visage in a way that reminded him of those old pin-up girls. If he weren't in the situation he was, he might have let his eyes linger on her longer.

The other was a man, almost as tall as him. He had dark skin. The blonde assumed the guy was black, but it was hard to tell since he was deeper in the shadows than the woman. He seemed very muscular and if the captive hadn't fought these vampires himself he would have been amazed that the guy wasn't able to get away from them by now.

"My Lord Barnes," the man in front finally spoke, in somewhat of an attempt to get the younger vampire to calm down, but definitely with an annoyed attitude, "I fought this man personally. He nearly won. If I hadn't had these two morons with me, it wouldn't have ended well. But we found him and brought him all the way from America-"

"Another American? Really? Why not something more delicious? Like a Russian?"

"With all due respect, my Lord, the last Russian we had… well… you crushed his skull in. And never really told us why. We assumed-"

The vampire-in-charge threw his hand into the air to silently stop Brock from speaking. This interruption lead Brock to roll his eyes, shove his thumbs into his waistband and look away from his Lord.

His attitude was ignored this time. The Lord 'Barnes' had more interesting things to worry about, like inspecting his new prize of a human. He sniffed the air a bit and gave a reluctant smirk as he stepped down from his throne. He couldn't even remotely deny that this one had good smelling blood. It didn't even have a trace of sickness in it like most humans did. He had stopped just beside Brock and was looking slightly up at this hulking man.

"He smells Irish, this one."

The captive clicked his tongue in annoyance. Not that it was any of this guy's business, but, "My folks were Irish. They moved to America. I was born and raised in Brooklyn. So you're smelling my blood, not my upbringing."

Instantly the Master Vampire was glaring at him. He obviously hadn't been taught not to speak unless he was spoken to. But he decided he could let it slide this one time… plenty of time for training him to quietly accept his position in his new life later. He huffed and asked, "What is your name, human?"

The taller human glared deeply at the slightly-shorter vampire in front of him. Blue eyes locking with blue eyes. Barnes had returned to smirking like a jerk and it was beyond irritating. He deserved a punch to the side of his head, but that god awful Brock had chained his arms together. He supposed he could just swing both of them and knock the man in his face to the ground, but then the other three vampires would give him another beating. He was hardly recovered from the last one. He didn't need that. He supposed maybe he could play along for now… escape later. And find a way to help the other humans while he was at it.

"Steve. My name is Steve."

"Just Steve, or is there more?" Barnes squinted a little, but didn't let the smirk fall from his face.

"Wouldn't you like to know?"

Such insolence, that one had. Did he not realize he was standing before a Master Vampire? Barnes was full blooded. Born from vampires. Far stronger than that damned Rumlow and most other vampires that roamed the Earth these days… nasty brutes turned, not born. Barnes could tear off this big idiot's head with hardly any effort… and this 'Steve' just did not seem to care whatsoever.

He would have to be taught his place.

CRACK!

The human slaves cringed and turned away as Barnes began lifting his arm. They knew what he was doing. They'd had it done to them before. The male of the two could still feel the lump from the last time he'd had it happen to him. The vampire had smacked Steve with the wrist of his left arm. The gloved arm. It was enough to knock the blonde out cold and leave him with a trail of blood dripping down the side of his head.

"Take him to be washed. Margaret and Samuel can accompany him," the Lord said as he turned to his pets, the humans who belonged to those names, "Then bring him to my chambers for my feeding. Understood?"

Neither looked at him. They just nodded obediently and stepped down from their spots next to his throne to follow the lower vampires who were dragging poor Steve away. The moment they were out of Barnes' sight, Sam rubbed the woman's back and reassured her that he only called her Margaret because he was upset with Steve. He couldn't have been mad at her. Just mad in general. She nodded a little and smiled. It was true. Their Master was frequently just mad at the world and took it out on anyone involved. In simple ways, typically. He did bring violence into his angry spells when he believed manipulation didn't work, but his favourite thing to do was subtly pick at a victim's pet-peeves until they got more and more frustrated and cracked. It brought him amusement to see the flickering of annoyance in their eyes. Mostly because he was a total brat.

Steve was dragged into a large bath room by the vampire underlings. The room was almost completely filled with a huge, square, pool-like tub. 'Margaret', who preferred Peggy, began filling it the moment she walked in. Meanwhile 'Samuel', who went by Sam, chained Steve in with a collar attached to a chain that came down from the ceiling to keep new arrivals from getting too far. The vampires left them to their business as soon as they were sure he wouldn't be running away. They could trust the two humans in the Lord's service by now.

With the bath drawn Peggy collected a few rags and her partner began lowering the blonde into the tub water up to his chest. They split up the rags and she did her best to tend to the bleeding wound on Steve's head… she frowned when she saw how much damage the Lord had done up close. His temper was getting worse by the day and she could tell he'd done way more harm than usual. It was just a matter of time before he really killed someone with that arm of his. Peggy decided she would have to try to speak to him somehow. To convince him that this violence was unnecessary and he could punish them quite effectively without hurting them. She hated the idea of those vampires punishing them at all… but the least amount of pain they could go through was preferable. She often found herself coming to the aid of the other human servants like that. Sam joked and called her the 'Den Mother' because of it.

While Peggy dealt with the wound, Sam started by getting him undressed. He ended up having to tear the old clothes off, but that was fine. He'd be getting new, better clothes shortly from the Master himself. Peggy had to keep her focus on the wound and not look down below, but Sam? Well. He took it upon himself to inspect the new meat. It wasn't all that bad. Nice, in fact. It was a shame it wasn't going to be put to use now that he was here. His only purpose was to give blood. Sam actually kind of felt bad about that. It was like seeing a freshly baked apple pie fall onto the ground before anyone could get a bite. He sighed and started washing the man properly.

This was about the time Steve started stirring again. He groaned and opened his eyes slightly, before waking up completely with a start. He immediately started fighting with the restraints he'd been in for weeks. He didn't know why he bothered, but he really couldn't give up even if he knew it was futile. He growled as he tried to move away from the two, "What are you doing? Are you vampires, too?! Let me go!"

"Please, Steve. We're humans like you. Trapped here. Like you…" Peggy said with the blood-stained rag up in the air. Steve noted her British accent immediately. It was pleasant… but it didn't make him trust her any more.

"My name's Sam. Wilson. This here's Peggy Carter. We've both been in service to our Master for about three years now," the dark man smirked bitterly. He hated that he'd been counting. You should never judge where a man's from by what they look like, but Steve could tell by the way he spoke... This one was American.

Steve was taken slightly aback. Had they been forcefully captured, too? Of course they were… the way they spoke about being trapped and in service… there was no way they hadn't tried to fight this, too. Maybe even tried to escape a few times. But here they were doing their job and cleaning him up. They didn't even take a break? Give a little bit of defiance? He took a moment and made a point to refuse, probably in denial, to ever break like that even in three years or twenty. Not for some jerk-of-a-Master like that Barnes guy, especially.

He was drawn back out of his thoughts as Peggy pressed the rag to his head again. He hissed in reaction to the pain… how did he get that wound? He couldn't even really remember. The last thing Steve knew he was staring that vampire Lord down… did he do it? He thought about asking but he found himself easing into the woman's gentle touch. Sam was still working on cleaning him, too, and even though he was still in arm restraints and he'd prefer to wash himself it was feeling good to finally get clean after the week he'd been on the boat with those vampire jerks. Steve decided to let himself relax for now and just get his bearings. He needed to gain all the information he could to make an educated escape plan.

So he started taking their appearances in again. Now that Sam wasn't hiding in the shadows it was obvious, as Steve had guessed, that he was black. His eyes were a lot deeper than Peggy's, but both had gorgeous shades of brown. And Steve couldn't help but admire that well-groomed goatee that Sam had. Somehow it was strange to think that their captors were letting him keep that. He'd imagine they'd either keep them clean shaven or all scraggly. Especially because, by comparison, Peggy's hair was pretty boring. It only had the curl it did naturally, so it was obvious the only upkeep she did to it was keeping it clean. And in three years, it had gone from her shoulders down to below her shoulder blades. Steve couldn't know that, of course, but he had the feeling that it wasn't where she'd want it. He wondered why it was that they were treated different in this aspect. Was it because she was a woman?

"Hey, Brooklyn boy!" Sam huffed as he gently knocked on Steve's forehead to snap him out of his thoughts, "I don't know if you know this, but when people introduce themselves it's only polite to do the same."

Steve's eyes widened at him as Peggy giggled a little to herself. All of this and they were almost acting like they weren't prisoners? Steve was just supposed to pretend this wasn't a horrible situation and that strangers weren't bathing him? He rolled his eyes a little… but Sam wasn't wrong, "Steve Rogers. My name is Steve Rogers. I got caught a couple weeks ago… ambushed me on the way home from work."

The other two could tell he was a little embarrassed by that. Probably felt a little emasculated, too, the other American assumed. He was, after all, a huge and powerful looking guy. The only way most men would be able to take a guy like him down would be to sneak up on him. Gang up on him. All around cheat him. He almost felt bad for Steve that that had happened to him, too. Though Sam didn't have the displeasure of getting beat on by Rumlow. He could only imagine the kind of pain that damned half-blood inflicted on Steve, and since Rumlow knew better than to break any bones, they would never know what had happened in that fight unless the blonde told them. And that was a conversation they would never bring up themselves. Most people didn't like talking about how they were caught, anyway. Not that it mattered. Most people didn't last long.

Peggy didn't believe he would be like the others, though. He had survived an attack from Rumlow! The second strongest vampire she'd ever laid eyes on. He was the only one known to have inflicted any kind of pain to Barnes, even if it was simply because Barnes was younger at the time. Or appeared younger. She'd gathered that their Master was much older than his underling, but as he was actually born a vampire and the other was not it was almost impossible to accurately gauge their ages in relation. But that wasn't the issue. The issue was Steve. Steve Rogers, this American from New York, had stood tall against not just Brock, but three vampires in total and didn't have a single broken bone, an out-of-place nose, any immediately noticeable bruises. It was astonishing. He was either the greatest human fighter in the world, or his healing abilities were unmatched. Maybe he was actually a mutant? But the vampires always avoided mutants before.

She gasped a little when Steve hissed again. She'd applied a little too much pressure as she was thinking and she'd hurt him without meaning to. The British Beauty pulled away from Steve, "I'm sorry! I swear I didn't mean it. I got distracted, is all."

"Geez, Peg! Don't you think he's had enough?"

"I was distracted!"

Sam grinned and couldn't help laughing. Peggy just huffed and exited the bath to get bandages for Steve. She walked with obvious frustration and a bit of embarrassment. Sam shook his head as he grinned. Steve was thinking that they acted like siblings… but it was bizarre. Again they were acting like there wasn't anything wrong with any of this. How could they be so calm?

The man in front of him seemed to pick up on this feeling of Steve's and his face dropped a little as he spoke quietly, making sure the woman couldn't hear, "I know it's messed up but. Look, you gotta understand, if we don't laugh, if we don't… keep ourselves together… we won't last. You won't either."

"So you pretend you're not slaves?" Steve questioned. He furrowed his brow as he waited for the answer.

Their eyes locked. Brown eyes to blue. Sam let out a breath, "We never, for a single minute, forget that we are slaves. But don't forget that that wound on your head was from the Master's fist. And he was going easy on his new boy."

The blonde took in a sharp breath. That's right. Barnes swung at him. He shook his head, "He's that powerful? I feel like I was hit by a truck!"

Peggy was back and she began bandaging the wound, "His left arm is made of metal, Steve."

Again, he was shocked. A vampire with a metal arm? This was all too crazy. Maybe those thugs back in Brooklyn hit him too hard and he was having some kind of crazy coma-induced nightmare! It had to be. Mutants? Fine. Aliens? Sure. But Vampires? That was a little hard to believe. Someone would have heard about a nest of them gathering humans by now! That was it. It had to be fake. It had to be his mind playing tricks on him.

"I don't believe you. I don't believe any of this."

They both frowned in unison. Oh, the poor thing. He was going to go through that phase. That wasn't any good for them. If they continued talking to him they'd probably get laughed at and teased. He'd say they were just imaginary and their pain wasn't real. Neither of them felt like dealing with that pain… so they just finished their work. It unnerved Steve that they weren't speaking to him any more, but he would just have to deal with it because he honestly didn't have anything to say to these dream characters.

The whole rest of the bath was done in silence, and still Steve couldn't think of anything to say to them. It suited them just fine. They were angry at him and he could feel it. It started making him feel like a total asshole for having the nerve to write off their whole existence. Okay. He could understand that.

After what seemed like an eternity to Steve, (and, sadly, only a brief moment to the other humans) the bath was finally done. No more getting washed by strangers as he was chained up like a dog. Sam held tight to these chains as Peggy started to undo the collar around his neck, and his eyebrows raised in confusion, "What are you doing? Don't you think I'd try to escape?"

"Well, you're naked in a house of vampires and in front of a pretty woman. Will you be trying to escape, Mr. Rogers?" Peggy questioned, trying to hide a smile that he wouldn't see anyway from their positions.

Steve actually flushed at the thought of that. As tempting as it was, he was a tiny bit embarrassed at the idea of showing anyone his naked body. Which was off, in his head, because he had just gotten bathed by these two.

With his silence, the two continued. When he was released, Sam tugged on his chains, "All right, big guy. Let's get you out of the water and to the Master's room before he comes looking for you."

But the blonde didn't move. Like a frustrated bull he stood his ground and glared at the other man. He had absolutely no interest in playing their little games and going to their Master. He was still his own man, dammit! They couldn't take that away from him no matter what. If anybody here wanted to take him, they'd have to do it by force. Sam sighed.

"We can at least get some clothes on you. Come on. One step at a time."

"I'm not going," he responded flatly.

Peggy moved into the water again and smiled up at him, giving the bruise on his chest a small pet before quickly lowering her hand again, "Please, Steve. He'll punish us all if we can't get you to him in a timely manner."

That… hurt him a little bit in a strange way. It wasn't any of his business what happened to the other two, but. He was Steve Rogers and it was his duty to fight for the little guy. And in this case? These humans were 'the little guy.' He couldn't be responsible for them being hurt. Especially if 'punishment' was as bad as Barnes had done to him. He relented with his eyes and started moving with Sam.

He was granted no clothes. That was something the Lord would do if he wished when he got his boy. So Steve was ushered, to his great anguish, down the halls in nothing but the chains around his arms and wrists. He held his head up with what little dignity he could, but he didn't know how much longer he could last when they finally arrived at the door. Peggy knocked and from inside they could hear the half-hearted, "Come in," from the man inside.

The door was opened and Steve's jaw set forward in annoyance with the sight he was greeted to. There was Barnes. Sitting against the pillows on his damned giant bed, complete with those drapes that Steve imagined belonged to a bed for a Medieval King.

The Lord grinned a big, mischievous grin when he was treated to the glory that was Steve Rogers. He snickered to himself and crooned tauntingly, "So. You've finally arrived."