Thank you for all your wonderful reviews! Sorry it took so long to get this out, things have been a little busy and chaotic.
There's the beginning of a fairly major storyline in this chapter, and a pretty big change, so I hope you guys enjoy it and don't find it too random or ridiculous. Let me know how you feel about it :)
Budapest, 1895
"Magnus, I'm going out!" the vampire called up the stairs as he pulled on a jacket. "Do you want anything?"
Simon paused in the hallway, waiting for an answer. The sound of something fragile breaking and muffled curses streaming from the warlock's mouth were all he got in reply. For the past few weeks, Magnus had been locked up in his bedroom working away on something mysterious that, every now and then, would emit loud noises into the corridor. Simon didn't ask Magnus what he was up to, and doubted he would get an answer if he did, and simply contented himself with bringing up a tray of food and leaving it outside the room once or twice a day.
He waited another moment, just to be sure Magnus didn't want anything, before heading out the front door and on to the streets of Budapest. It was a pleasant town and a great time of year – springtime was making everything bright and fresh and green.
The vampire walked leisurely down the street, allowing the soft sunlight to shine gently down on his face. He was feeling particularly light-hearted today, for whatever reason, and allowed a small grin to settle on his lips as he turned the corner.
The airy happiness that had overcome him didn't last for long however – almost as soon as he turned into the darkened alleyway, hidden away from the sun and noticeably cooler than the rest of the city, a heavy feeling descended. Something sinister crept into his bones and coiled in his stomach. His fingers were suddenly restless, nervous and a slow itch spread from the bottom of his skull all the way down his spine.
Simon knew by now that it was best to trust his instincts and immediately froze as the sensation curled through his body. Still as a marble statue – the vampire ability to literally stop every movement of his body – he looked around the alley for a sign of what may have triggered the sudden dread crawling through him. The street was empty. Above him, clothes that had been strung out to dry fluttered in the breeze. His ears picked up the clinking sound of wind-chimes in the distance.
Cautiously, he unfroze and continued on his way at a slow, tentative pace. He walked up to the end of the alley, where the back door entrance to a local butcher's was. That had been the purpose of his trip – he was running low on animal blood and didn't want to risk running out and possibly having to turn to human blood. With no one to control him as Catarina had back in Prague, there was no telling what he might do under the influence of blood-lust.
He lifted a hand to knock on the door – the owner was supposed to be expecting him – but before his knuckles could touch the surface, it swung open from the inside. A tall, willowy woman walked out briskly. Her dress was an unusual cut for the time – stopping short just above her knees, revealing heavily buckled, worn brown leather boots. The dress itself was a combination of crushed blood-red velvet and white lace. A trim brown leather coat that looked well-used covered her shoulders, the collar turned upwards to cover her neck. As she walked past Simon, she turned to him. Their eyes met for a moment or two, and it suddenly seemed as though time had been trapped in amber – the moment dragged out far longer than it should have. Simon felt as though a red-hot poker had been thrust through his stomach. She was the reason he had frozen not two minutes ago. She was the cause of the uneasiness in his stomach. The twitch in his fingers, the itch in his skull.
In what must have been a few short seconds, Simon registered the tiny details of this woman. Everything about her from her red painted lips to her wavy dark hair and olive-green eyes. The small, upturned nose. The chain and pendant that hung around her neck. The impossibly pale skin. The surprise and menace her gaze held in reply to his staring.
There was no doubt in his mind – this woman was a vampire, and she was powerful.
Their silent exchange broke when she briskly turned her head away from him, loose hair whipping around behind her. Simon blinked, and in a moment, she was gone from view.
In a daze, Simon entered the butcher's shop, paid for the animal blood and made his way back home. All the while, his mind was swimming with images from his brief encounter with the woman. Who had she been? Why had her presence caused such a reaction? How had she been able to walk about in the middle of the day? Had he stumbled across another Daylighter?
It was just as well that Magnus was so preoccupied with whatever it was he was up to in his bedroom, as he would have definitely noticed Simon's strange quietness. As it was, he barely gave the vampire a fleeting glance as he gulped down some leftover soup before heading back upstairs.
Simon sat in the living room, sipping on blood that was well on its way to becoming disgustingly cold. He had tried distracting himself with books and letters to his friends to no avail. The vampire was at the forefront of his mind the entire time, making it impossible for him to concentrate on anything else.
A knock at the door jostled him out of his hazy thoughts. He immediately stiffened – they knew very few people in Budapest, even fewer who knew where they lived, and virtually none who would pay them visits unannounced at this time of night. He set the glass of blood down on the table and made his way to the door, limbs ready to defend or attack if necessary.
As he slowly pulled back the heavy wood, he proved to be less-than-prepared for what awaited him on the other side. A snarl, a hiss and an incredibly strong grip were all he registered before he found himself pushed up against the wall of the house, an arm across his neck. Facing him was the woman from earlier, her red lips pulled back to reveal fangs. Instinct took over, and Simon bared his own fangs and thrashed about, trying to free himself from her grip. The woman was having none of his behaviour, and slammed him back against the wall, his head cracking against the bricks, pressing her arm even tighter against his throat. His struggling ceased, but he kept his fangs out, defiance clear in his eyes.
"Who are you?" snarled the woman.
Simon blinked incredulously, before choking out a laugh and replying, "Excuse me, you're threatening me right outside my own house and you're demanding to know who I am?"
"Answer the question."
"Simon Lewis. And you are?"
The woman raised an eyebrow and seemed to be considering him. Eventually, she drew herself up and sniffed before replying, "Thea Cardinal de Vampyr."
She seemed to be watching for Simon's reaction. He wasn't entirely sure she was expecting from him, but it probably wasn't a thoroughly confused and unimpressed look. "Right. Well that's great and everything, but what does that have to do with pinning me to a wall and having the ability to make me want to claw out my own brain?"
A flicker of confusion crossed her own features, and the press of her arm against his throat lessened a little. "You truly do not know... I do not understand..."
"Don't understand what?" Simon asked.
The woman – Thea de whatever the hell – let her eyes flicker up and down Simon's frame, as if weighing up her options and trying to determine whether he was a threat or not. Apparently deciding on the latter, she removed her arm from the vicinity of his throat, yet kept a wary stance and a clear look of distrust in her eyes.
"You are my kin." She said. "Your blood is linked to mine. Though I am certain I have not sired you, nor have my siblings. So tell me, Simon, childe, how is it that you come to have the blood of Vampyr running in your veins when by all logic, such a thing should be impossible?"
Simon's throat suddenly felt very dry. He was well and truly out of his depth. Having declined Raphael's "offers" to join his clan and never asked anyone else about the inner workings of vampire bloodlines, abilities and societies, he had absolutely no idea how to answer the woman's question. He had only two options; honesty or defiance. He wasn't happy with either prospect.
"I was sent back in time by a warlock." He said finally. "I really have no idea what you're talking about, or what my blood has got to do with yours, but that's the truth."
Though taken aback, she gave him a studying look. "You do not lie," she said reluctantly, as though she had somehow been able to examine his soul with her harsh green gaze. "Yet what you say is impossible."
"So I've been told," he replied dryly.
There was a moment's pause. Then, she spoke. "If what you say is true," she said slowly, hesitating, "then you mean to say that in your real time, you know nothing of your bloodline?"
Simon shook his head. "Nope. My knowledge of the vampire race is fairly limited. I've had pretty bad encounters with our kind so far," he shot her a pointed look, as if to prove his point.
The woman paused. She seemed to be locked in a silent debate with herself, over whether or not to speak. Then she looked straight into Simon's eyes. Green met brown and the twisting feeling in his stomach, the crawling down his spine were back full-force. "I am about to reveal one of our kind's deepest secrets to you, Simon Lewis. Few vampires are privy to this information, and if you repeat these words to a single soul without my permission, I shall not hesitate to murder you in a deeply painful way, kin or not, Mark of Cain or not, am I understood?"
Simon gulped and nodded. "Sure." His voice was hoarse.
Seemingly satisfied with his answer, she drew herself up to her full height, and looked down at him imperiously. "I have told you my name. I have not told you what it means, nor my role in our society. I, Thea Cardinal de Vampyr, am one of the last remaining members of the truest of the vampire bloodlines. It is this bloodright that grants me my position of Vampire Princess, currently acting as Queen in the absence of the true heir."
Simon felt his jaw unhinge. Of all the things he had imagined this woman being, of all the things that she could have said, Vampire Princess was so improbable that it hadn't even crossed his mind. His mind was suddenly thrown back several years, to a period he had done his best to forget. He was suddenly standing in a corridor with Caroline, facing a painting with a beautiful man and woman in it, as she explained that vampires had once had a royal family. Apparently her information had been a little out of date, if the vampire standing before him was to be believed – and Simon somehow knew that every word she had spoken was absolutely true. A sudden detail clicked in his mind, freezing all other thoughts. She had called him her kin. Which meant...
"And you, Simon, are apparently part of the very same bloodline. The vampire who turned you must have either been unaware or unwilling to explain. Your rightful title should be Simon Lewis de Vampyr. And should the few remaining members of our family die, you shall be the rightful heir."
Simon felt as though his brain had short-circuited. He already had trouble believing he was an invincible time-travelling vampire that could walk in the sun half the time. Adding vampire prince to that list wasn't making it easier to believe.
"If this situation is unexpected and confusing for me, I cannot imagine how you yourself feel," said Thea. "If you wish, you may cut your ties with the family of Vampyr, and renounce your title. However, if you wish to learn more about your heritage and your own kind, I would be willing to teach you. Tomorrow, I plan on leaving the city. You may come with me, if you so desire. Meet me at the Árpád Bridge at dawn. Otherwise, I shall assume you no longer wish to be recognised as our kin."
She stepped back and gave Simon one last, lingering look, almost as if she was looking for the potential for a vampire ruler in him. She then turned, her hair swooping behind her as it had earlier, heading off down the street, leaving Simon shell-shocked leaning against the outside of his house.
"Oh, and Simon," she called over her shoulder, "Do not forget what I said earlier. Speak not a word of our encounter to anyone. Not even your companion."
And then she disappeared into the darkness of the night. Simon's knees finally gave in and he collapsed on the ground, shaking uncontrollably, eyes unfocused and fixed on an empty spot, reeling from the surge of information he had just been slapped in the face with.
Simon didn't sleep that night. He spent some of his time pacing around the living room or tapping his feet erratically as he sat on the couch, wondering whether or not to ignore the warning Thea had given him and talk to Magnus. He knew the warlock was still up, he could hear him going about his mysterious project. Mostly though, he spent his the night going through the small wooden box he kept tucked away under his bed, that travelled with him wherever he and Magnus went. It was simple, varnished wood with a small lock on the front. He had purchased it one day at a mundane market, and used it to store the few items he was attached to. Pictures – a group photo that had been taken in Hyde Park back in 1878, wedding pictures of their various Shadowhunter friends, pictures of their children, sent with letters, and a photograph that had been taken years ago in front of The Mermaid's Drink, with Mirabel, Irving and Taith gathered around him and Magnus. Underneath the photographs, a neat little stack of letters, tied into groups depending on the sender. Then the copy of Varney the Vampire Magnus had given him as a gift. Three small books, each one with a special meaning to him – Arthur Rimbaud's Illuminations, a signed copy of Lewis Carroll's Alice in Wonderland and a book which was so old the title had faded away and had no author's name written, but was a first-hand Downworlder account of the Great Fire of London.
Tucked away in corners were a dented silver pocket watch with a crescent moon and stars engraved on it, which had long since stopped ticking and had belonged to Woolsey (the werewolf had insisted on giving it to him, saying that any decent Downworlder should own one), and a small ring, set with a sapphire stone – the item Cecily had given him that night on the bridge, so that he wouldn't forget her. And right at the very bottom of the box, two items of clothing that were soft and familiar – a pair of jeans ripped at the knees and the t-shirt with Count Dracula on it. They still smelled ever-so-faintly of the fabric softener his mother used.
He spent hours simply re-reading old letters, and gazing longingly at the black and white photographs. He let his fingers run over the spines of the books, the ring and the dented cover of the pocket watch. He let the memories flood through him, let a fond little smile rest on his lips, felt a few cool tears on his face – he had never thought about it before, but it seemed that vampires could indeed cry.
By the time the sky was a weak shade of blue, bordering on pink, he had made up his mind.
Magnus awoke feeling rested and satisfied. The project he had been working on for the past few weeks – an intricate memory potion that had been requested in exchange for a rather ridiculous amount of money – was finally complete. He threw his dressing gown on haphazardly over his pyjamas and padded down into the kitchen, planning on finding Simon there. What he found instead was a small piece of paper. He picked it up, eyes darting over the words, again and again. When he had read it several times, he let it fall back on to the table and dropped into a chair feeling strangely empty.
Simon chewed his lip nervously as he waited. He tried to rationalise that this was the smarter thing to do – this way he would finally be more informed about his species, and would learn more about the bombshell of information that had been dropped on him the previous evening.
He hadn't been waiting long by the time an elegant and beautiful woman came up to him, dressed in the same clothes as the day before, a travelling hat perched on her head, a bag slung across her shoulder. She let a minute smile dash across her features when she saw him standing there – so fast Simon might have imagined it. He gripped the wooden box under his arm tighter, fingernails almost digging into it.
For a moment they exchanged silent looks. Then Thea made her way to the side of the bridge, watching the water rush beneath them. She spoke without turning to face Simon.
"I am glad you decided to come with me," she said.
"I don't know what I'm doing," he replied honestly. He felt numb and weak and more uncertain than he had ever felt in his life.
Thea turned to look at him with a strange softness in her normally stern eyes. "I will teach you," she said.
So yeah... How many of you were expecting that twist? :p