Sorry that I haven't updated in a while. But here you go, chapter 2. Enjoy.


Act 2 - To White Raven

A pair of blue eyes watched the scene before him unfold, finding himself rather intrigued. This behavior was quite unlike the sour Englishman, who always finished off his victims quickly and efficiently. What was so special about this boy?

The Frenchman smiled to himself, seeing that the cold blooded Arthur Kirkland still had some humanity left in him, a tiny weakness that Bonnefoy could use to his advantage as leverage against the Brit. He walked out of the room and into one of the vast hallways of the castle and began to whistle a cheerful little tune.

"You seem rather chipper tonight," someone observed.

Francis turned to see a man cloaked in white with intense red eyes watching him.

"Ah, indeed, mon ami, I am," Francis replied. "Let's just say I found out something rather interesting about one of my dear friends. Now then, if you'll excuse me. I must go wake up Matthieu."

The man in white nodded at him, allowing Francis to go off to his latest lover. The Prussian then walked down the hallway towards the entrance of the castle. Gilbert's fangs extended and he grinned, so ready to go on a nice, awesome hunt.


He heard a gun shot and suddenly he felt pain. Blood began to stain his chest. The world around him started to spin, blurring into thick blobs of color. His feet broke beneath him, no longer able to support him. He was falling down to the ground. Somehow, despite the pain, he felt calm about the whole thing.

"So this is what it is like to die," Matthew found himself thinking in his last moments.

It was just as well. He was a nobody to the rest world. In fact, he was lucky that he had finally been recognized by someone, even though this recognition was not exactly positive.

Suddenly, there was the sound of people around him screaming.

"Monster!" someone shouted.

A moment later, all was silent around the boy. A pair of hands lifted the dying Matthew off of the hard ground. The young man couldn't tell who it was, but at the same time he found that he didn't really care.

Cold fingers pressed against the Canadian's neck, feeling for a heart beat.

"You still have some life left in you," the person spoke, speaking fluent French.

Even though he was dying, the boy found himself easily able to understand them.

"Tell me, do you want to live?" they asked him.

The boy pulled on the last of his strength in order to nod.

"This may hurt a little bit, but after this you won't feel any pain. I won't let any harm come to you ever again, Matthieu," was their warning.

The next moment a pair of fangs plunged into his neck. The feeling was euphoric to both the boy and the vampire. Suddenly, the fangs released his neck. Then he felt something pushed into his mouth.

"Drink," he was commanded.

Matthew did as he was told, the vampire helping him to swallow the liquid. The liquid tasted unlike anything that he had ever had before. Soon enough the source of the delicious drink moved away from him. Matthew closed his eyes, the world around him fading into the shadows.


The sound of a coffin falling onto the floor echoed across the room. The vampire that sat up in the coffin, awake for the evening, made a cautious noise as if to apologize for the sound that he had made.

"Good evening, Matthieu," he was greeted.

The Canadian looked up to see his master, the French vampire of the clan, standing in front of his coffin. Francis was dressed in a fine blue suit that matched his eyes.

"Good evening," Matthew said, his voice soft, as usual.

Francis held out his hand for the Canadian to take. The newly turned vampire took his master's hand and Francis helped him out of the coffin. Once Matthew was out of the coffin, Francis released his hand.

"I had a dream last night," the boy admitted to his master.

"Oh? And what was it about, mon amour?" Francis asked, rather intrigued.

"About when you turned me," Matthew said.

"Ah. That just proves it then. You truly do love me, since I am appearing in your dreams," Francis noted, before moving close to the boy to whisper into his ear. "I also had a dream about you, my dear Matthieu. Perhaps it is a sign that we should spend some alone time tonight, just me and you."

The young vampire's face turned red with blush, knowing exactly what Francis meant by 'alone time.'

"But first, we must hunt. You, especially, must be starving for you haven't fed in several days."

Matthew's blush faded and he began to fidget with the curl in his hair.

"I know, master. It's just that... Well... How do I say this?" the boy stammered, trying to get what he wanted to say out, but unable to do so in a coherent manner.

Francis smiled at him softly, able to tell what was on Matthew's mind.

"You will get used to taking the blood of the living as your food soon enough," the older vampire told him. "It took me a while to get used to doing it as well. But don't worry. I am here to help you, mon amour."

The Frenchman bent down and gently kissed his beloved on the forehead.

"Get dressed and don't take too long, my dear Matthieu," Francis told him before he went towards the door of the small room that the boy had made his own.

"Yes, master," the boy replied.

"Oh, and, Matthieu, we have been over this before. Call me Francis. There is no need for formality between us," the Frenchman requested.

"Yes, mast-I mean Francis."

"Good."

Francis turned the doorknob of the Canadian's room to go back out into the hallway, leaving the boy alone to get dressed.

Once Matthew saw that Francis was gone, he walked over to a small wooden table. All over the table were little framed photographs of his family. He picked up one of the photographs, holding it in his hands. It was a picture of him and his older twin when they were younger, only five or so, a few years before that, the day that had shaped their lives forever.

"Please forgive me, Alfred," the vampire said, before putting the picture back down on the table.

He sighed before walking over to his closet to pick out what clothes he wanted to wear that evening.


Sunlight streamed into the castle, flooding the rooms with bright yellow light. After a small fight with the sun, a young man woke up at last, unable to defeat the annoying light.

Alfred rose and rubbed his eyes before putting on his glasses. He saw that the embers in the fireplace had completely died down. His clothes were no longer in front of the fireplace, but rather on the master's chair, nicely folded.

The table besides the master's chair had a plate that was covered by a beautiful silver lid on it. Propped up against the lid was a note written on pristine stationary. Behind the note was a hand drawn map. Alfred picked up the note and read it.

Dear Mr. Jones,

I am unable to see you off this morning. I have taken the liberty of preparing you some breakfast. I must admit that I did enjoy your company. Behind this letter is a map that will guide you to the nearby village, White Raven. Have a pleasant journey.

Sincerely,

A. Kirkland

P.S. I hope to see you again soon, very soon.

Alfred smiled and after finding a pen, he scribbled a small thank you note to his host. He then took the lid off of the plate to see what the master of the castle had prepared for him for his breakfast. He was unsure what exactly the meal was supposed to be as the food was burnt beyond recognition. Even so, the boy dug in so as not to be rude to his host. He found that the food tasted fine, despite its repulsive appearance.

Once he was full, he took the clothes that had been folded off of the chair and changed. After grabbing his bag and the hand drawn map, the American left the castle to begin his trek to White Raven.


With the sun up, the boy had plenty of light to see by. The sunlight fought to stream through the thick foliage of the forest that lay in between the castle and the village. As there was no distinct pathway between the castle and White Raven, the boy had no choice but to go through the forest.

He held up the map before him. The vampire seemed to have given him a map that showed a path that had the least natural obstacles to get through the forest and to the village. The boy followed the map, following the landmarks that Arthur had indicated on the map.

Finally, he broke through the forest and found himself standing at the edge of the village. Alfred saw a collection of houses and other buildings gathered together. He looked up to see the sun setting. He sighed. How long had he been in that forest?

Alfred tucked the map into one of his pockets before walking into the village. He found his way to the small square that was the center of the village. All around him, he could see various businesses, restaurants, and specialty shops, each eager to cater to their customers. The place looked fine enough to him.

Suddenly, his stomach made a large growl.

"I guess that I had better get some food," he decided. He would get food first and then find a place to stay.

The young man looked around him to see if he could find a restaurant that appealed to him. He spotted one restaurant with a sign that was shaped like a tomato in front of it. The sign read Antonio and Lovino's Tomato Palace. Alfred thought that that restaurant would be as good as any. As such he went into the restaurant.

Antonio and Lovino's Tomato Palace was a small little restaurant with some booths and a couple of tables that could seat up to four people each. Keeping with the theme of tomatoes, various pieces of artwork of tomatoes were hung around the restaurant. The flag of Spain and the flag of Italy were situated outside the front door as well.

The second that Alfred stepped in, he was greeted by a smiling, energetic Spanish man.

"Oh wow! A customer!" the Spaniard cried excitedly. "Welcome!"

Before Alfred had a chance to reply, the man had brought him over to one of the booths for him to sit in and had placed a tomato shaped menu into the American's hands.

"I am really glad to have you here, seƱor ," the Spaniard told him. "Oh, dear. I completely forgot to tell you my name. I am Antonio and I will be serving you today. So, how may I help you? Oh, I know! How about we start with a drink first. Would care for something to drink?"

"Uh... cola, please," Alfred said, at last allowed to speak.

"Si. One moment," Antonio said before disappearing into the kitchen.

Alfred took the chance to look over the menu, spotting several dishes that he wouldn't mind trying. A minute later, Antonio returned with his soda.

"So, find anything you would like to try?" the waiter asked.

"There are quite a few dishes that sound wonderful, so it's had to decide," the boy admitted.

"Might I recommend the Chef's Special Pasta? My Lovi makes it and it is truly wonderful," Antonio suggested.

"That sounds perfect," Alfred replied and handed him back the menu.

"Alright. Your food with be out soon."

Once more Antonio disappeared into the kitchen. A moment later, the young man heard some shouting in fluent Italian. Even though, Alfred had no idea what the Italian was saying, he could tell that whatever was being shouted was clearly insulting.

"Oh, Lovi," the waiter said, seeming to be unfazed by his boyfriend's harsh words. "Do it for me."

Things seemed to calm down a bit and Antonio came back out. He walked over to Alfred, while the boy waited for his dinner.

"I don't believe that I have seen you around here before," the Spaniard remarked.

"Yes. I'm not from here. I'm here on a journey, looking for someone," Alfred told him.

"I see. Will you be staying here for long?"

"I'm not sure how long I will be here."

"Well, I do hope that you enjoy your stay here. White Raven is a good place to be, I assure you," Antonio said.

The two of them continued to chat. Their conversation broke when a bitter Italian emerged from the kitchen. In his hands was a plate stacked high with freshly made, steaming pasta. He walked over to Alfred's booth before slamming that plate on the table.

"Enjoy," Lovino grumbled.

"Ah, thanks." With that, Alfred picked up his fork and began to eat. After just one bite, he realized how delicious this meal was. "This is really good."

Lovino glared at him.

"Of course it's good, idiot!" the Italian chef retorted.

"Now, now, Lovi. He just gave you a compliment," Antonio said. "You should thank him."

"Thank you," Lovino said, though Alfred could hear annoyance in his voice.

"You're welcome," Alfred replied.

"Say, you don't have a place to stay yet, do you? Lovino and I would love to have you at our place," the Spaniard invited Alfred.

"Don't just go inviting people to our house!" Lovino spoke out against it.

His boyfriend gently put his hands on his shoulders.

"Be nice to the gentleman, Lovi. Besides, tonight I'll make it up to you with some special time" Antonio whispered in Lovino's ear, making Lovino blush as red as a tomato.

"Fine," the cook agreed.

"Then it's settled. After you have finished eating, I'll take you to our home. I know, maybe tomorrow I'll make you some churros. Would you like that?" Antonio offered.

"Yes, but is it really alright for me to stay at your house? I don't want to intrude," Alfred asked.

"It'll be fine. Lovi and I would love to have you," Antonio insisted.

"Alright. Thank you very much."

Antonio smiled, happy to have another house mate and also that he would be having some fun with his dearest Lovino later that evening. Lovino went back into the kitchen. Alfred continued to enjoy his dinner. Everything was good for the moment.


Pacing. The vampire found himself pacing back and forth in his own room. It had only been a day since he had let the boy go and somehow, he found himself having some sort of strange withdrawal. His very body ached, thoughts of the Alfred he knew plaguing his mind. He knew that the boy he had seen could not be his Alfred. It was impossible. And yet...

The Brit stopped pacing and went over to one of the large windows in the room. He moved back the heavy curtain that he had placed over it in order to look outside. He gazed out at the night's sky, spotting the glittering stars in the night's sky.

"Alfred, what do you want from me?" he begged to know.

"This form reflects the hideousness inside you. The only way to break this spell is to feel true love for someone and earn their love in return," the demon's words came to his mind.

"True love, huh?" the former pirate captain said to himself. "What a joke!"

He looked away from the night's sky and down at the forest, spotting an animal that would serve nicely as his next meal. The monster grinned before opening up the glass of the window and jumping out to go hunting. He could care less about love now. He was no longer human and he had no use for such an emotion. Even so, deep down he still had some humanity within him, even though he didn't know it.


To be continued...