The Strigoi's Daughter

by Medusa Sparrow-Winchester

When Vaun was human, he had a daughter, Freya. This is her story. I didn't like that they killed Vaun off, especially when Quinlan said that he trained Vaun, so Vaun's not dead in this fic, and Quinlan has also known Lar for centuries. All the main characters will be in this, and a few OC strigoi, as well as the three Old World Ancients in flashback scenes.

2. Chapter 2

A/N: Thank you to the following for reviewing this fic:

equipagan: Thank you so much for your review, glad you like the story. Yeah, the Sun Hunters have fascinated me, and wanted to go into a bit more depth. I hope this story does that. I love Vaun too, he's my wee cutie pie :D I hated that they killed him off (understandable, seeing as Stephen McHattie was 68 when he first played Vaun), so I wanted to bring him back, especially as Quinlan said that he trained him. Thank you for saying that Freya sounds like a cool chick. I hope she stays that way. Xxxx

Amiera Corbeaux: Thank you for your review, glad you think my story is awesome :D I really hope it stays that way :D I hope my Writer's Block stays away *crosses everything that can be crossed* Glad my fic was on your list to read :D I hope you like this chapter as well :D Xxxx

Kittynater89: Thank you for your review, love. Glad you love it :D Here's the long awaited update, and I hope you love this one too. Please PM me if there's something wrong with it. Xxxx

Well here it is: the long awaited update :D Sorry for waiting so long to update, my Plot Bunnies for this story seem to have went into hibernation, but now that I manage to spend the past week, or so writing chapter 2, I'm hoping they've come out of hibernation.

Well, not all my Plot Bunnies for this story went into hibernation as I was able to write two parts for future chapters of this story: the first one is set after season 3 episode 4: But Not Forgotten, and the second part if set at the end of season 3 episode 8: White Light.

I still have Plot Bunnies for two other fanfics of The Strain:

1) The Sixth and Seventh. I've written the Prologue and most of chapter one of that story. I would've posted up the Prologue, but I felt it was too short. Hopefully I'll get to finish chapter 1 soon.

2) The Ancient. I've written the first chapter of this one, but I'm not really sure where I'm going with it to be honest, so debating on whether or not to post it up.

Just to say that I've tweaked strigoi anatomy ever so slightly with this fic (and might continue to keep it tweaked in other fanfics for The Strain). All strigoi have noses, with the exception of the Ancients. Other than that, strigoi in this fic function the same as in the show :D

Anywho, here you go:

Chapter 2.

I wake up several hours later when the sun sets, and notice something different than when I fell asleep: I'm still lying on my left side, and still cuddling someone, but the scent is wrong; it's not Quinlan's scent, but my father's. Quinlan must've left shortly after I fell asleep, and my father quickly took his place before I noticed.

They used to do that every so often before, but apparently I never let them do it without protesting; they both told me that I would whine at them when they did it, even though I have no recollection of either them moving, nor of me protesting. Most of the time I would sleep in between the two of them, with Lar normally curled up against my father, but when one was on guard duty first, the other one would take his place beside me, while the other did guard duty.

My father pulls himself gently out of my embrace, but nudges my shoulder for me to get up.

"Five more minutes." I murmur, turning round and cuddling Lar, and preventing him from moving. Lar embraces me back with a chuckle and a sigh.

"Five minutes, then I want you both up." My father says, getting up from the pallet and I hear him putting his tactical gear back on. "Freya, you have guard duty. Lar, you have hunting duty with myself, Jacob, Petyr and Michael." Both Lar and I grunt in reply.

When my father's dressed and leaves the nesting chamber, I stretch my stiff limbs around Lar, and hear several joints pop, then I yawn unnecessarily. Old habits. My jaw cracks with the yawn.

"Old woman." Lar murmurs with another chuckle. I playfully growl at him, and slap his backside.

"Shut up, you young whippersnapper." That causes Lar to laugh properly. Lar is seven hundred years old; four hundred years younger than me. "You be careful when you go out hunting tonight, Smár Bróðir, hunt someplace you've never been before."

"Yes, mother." Lar replies, and gets another slap. Lar has to retaliate this time, and we end up play fighting, but I'm older and stronger than him, not to mention the best fighter in the nest, so he submits quickly, and I pull him back to me and cuddle him again.

"I mean it! Be careful." I say after he snuggles back into me, and nuzzles my face.

"I will." He assures me. Before I can reply, my father comes back into the now mostly empty nesting chamber; Lar and I are the only ones still in the chamber.

"Up, now! You've had fifteen minutes, now time to get up." Both Lar and I groan, but we get up anyways.

It doesn't take long for Lar to get dressed and put his tactical gear on, including his weapons, but it takes me a bit longer because I have more weapons. First thing I do is put my black underwear on, both panties and a bra, then I put on my black combat pants, belt and heavy combat boots. Next, I strap on a spring loaded nine inch bowie knife to each wrist, before putting a thin, long sleeved, black undershirt on.

I put a pair of stainless steel Colt M1911A1 handguns, with Mother-of-pearl grips in the gun holsters I slide over my shoulders once I put my thick black and red, hooded combat jacket on. After that, I slip a black leather sword harness over my shoulders, which holds a pair of silver longswords crossed over one another. I've adjusted the harness and gun holsters so that they don't interfere with me grabbing my handguns, which are sitting a bit lower on my sides than they should be; around waist level.

I attach a silver machete onto the left side of my belt, and attach another pair of gun holsters, this time on my thighs, which holds another pair of Colt M1911A1 handguns, black this time. Next I secure my elbow pads, and knee pads, then I put a six inch hunting knife to the inside of each boot, before putting a twelve inch bowie knife in the outsides of my combat boots. Next comes the thick black gloves, with hard knuckle protectors.

The last thing I put on is my combat vest with multiple pockets, which is made shorter than everyone else's, because of my extra handguns. I have even more knives of various sizes in the pockets of my combat vest, plus a few small, but deadly, explosives and their detonators.

Two things I carry on my person, that no one else carries: an iPod complete with earphones, and a cell phone...which no longer works, but I still use it for either taking pictures, listening to music I don't have on my iPod, or playing my jigsaw app that I don't need the Internet for.

I miss having the Internet, especially social media. Hey, I can be on the Internet and no one really knows that they're actually talking to an eleven hundred and fifty year old vampire. A girl has to have a life outside of her vampire family, ya know? Besides, some makeup, a wig, and contacts, and I can pretend to be human too.

As long as I don't tell anyone the truth, keep my pointed ears covered with my wig, and not show my long, pointed incisors when I smile, and I don't wear any of my tactical gear, humans think they're talking to a young human woman who looks to be in her early twenties. I was twenty-three when my creator turned me into a strigoi.

Once fully dressed, and armed to the teeth, I make my way out of the smaller nesting chamber, and into the larger nesting chamber which houses the Ancients. Coming up behind my creator, I step up onto Its tall, red pedestal, grab onto the back, and go up on my tiptoes. My creator leans down to Its right side, and lowers Its cheek to me, which I plant a kiss on and nuzzle with my own cheek, before stepping down and repeating the same thing twice more to the other two Ancients. All three Ancients start purring at my affection, before I dawdle away to the end of the chamber, go down the corridor to the left of the entrance/exit, and turn right into another chamber.

This other chamber is a lot smaller and dimly lit. In the middle of the chamber is a large cage which can hold ten humans inside, but now only holds one thin, naked female with a metal collar on her neck, who cowers when she sees me, and moves to the back of the cage. I grab two chains from the wall, and approach the cage, and the woman whimpers.

She starts screaming when I unlock the cage and advance on her. She tries to put up a fight, and manages to punch me hard in the face, and splits my bottom lip on the right side; I taste blood. I growl loudly in response, and backhand her hard across the face. When she falls to the floor, I attach the chains to either side of the collar, and pull her out of the cage.

I drag her close to me, pull up her left hand, and look for a wound in case she either split her skin open when she punched me, or a worm got under her skin from my split lip. I don't see a wound, but I sniff her hand anyways. Thankfully I don't smell, or hear any worms, so she's clean. I don't feel any worms coming out of the cut on my lip, so hopefully there are none.

I grab both chains again, and drag her out of the small chamber and towards the Ancients' chamber, and she tries fighting me the whole way, while screaming for help. Unfortunately for her, I'm a lot stronger than she is and I've put some slack on the chains, so she can't hit me while she's pulling back. Also, her screams do her no good, and all they do is hurt her throat, and my ears.

Having had enough of her incessant high pitched screaming, I yank hard on the chains and she stumbles forwards into me. I punch her on the nose, which cracks and bleeds.

"Shut up, human!" I snarl at her, and rattle my stinger at her. She stares at me, but doesn't stop.

"HELP ME!" She screams as loud as she can. "PLEASE! SOMEBODY HELP ME!"

"PLEASE! SOMEBODY HELP ME!" I scream even louder in my duel voice, which shocks her into silence. "No human can hear you, you stupid moron! We're deep underground, and the only people who can hear you are people like me, and trust me, the only help they'll provide is for me, not you!"

I tug on her chains even harder, and she slips and falls on the floor, but I trail her along the concrete floor instead, which causes her to scream again, this time in agony rather than fear. I stop trailing her, and address her again.

"Get up!" She doesn't move. "You have two choices: you can either get up and follow me, or I can continue trailing you along the concrete, and shred even more of your skin. The choice is yours." She looks up at me with big brown eyes, which I've heard humans describe as doe eyes, then she stands up and her shoulders hunch, defeated.

"Trust me, your fate here is more merciful than your fate out there." She doesn't answer, but she doesn't fight back either, so I pull on the chains once more, and she reluctantly follows.

I got a good look at her when I captured her, just to make sure she wasn't one of my online friends, especially the ones I would've talked to on a regular basis, but she's not, I've never seen her before. Good thing too, as I would never have taken her. I wouldn't have the heart to feed one of my online friends to the Old Ones; it would kill me.

I'm a strange Strigoi: we aren't supposed to be able to feel love, yet I love my nest with all my heart, and I also love my online friends. The Ancients have always found that aspect of me odd, but they secretly enjoy it, especially when I'm incredibly affectionate towards them. For a monster, I'm actually quite cuddly, but, if you hurt my family, I can be the most cold hearted monster you could ever have the displeasure of meeting.

Once I pull the girl out of the door to the smaller chamber, my brother, Gabriel grabs the other chain, and helps me pull the girl along the corridor. I don't need him to help, but I appreciate it. The girl gasps at the sight of my brother, and tries to pull back, but to no avail.

"Thought you could use some help, sister." Gabriel says to me, pulling very hard on the chain. The girl's eyes widen at Gabriel's voice: not only is there a double layer to his voice, like all strigoi, but it sounds almost musical, like water running over rock.

Gabriel has always had a beautiful voice, even when he was human, and very attractive too: shoulder length raven black hair, and piercing dark blue eyes. Even as a strigoi, he's still beautiful to look at, though his eyes have darkened to jet black ringed with crimson, and doesn't have a single strand of hair on his head.

It's not lost on me that I have three brothers named after Archangels: Gabriel, Michael and Raphael. We even had a Lucifer once, but he was killed by humans not long after Quinlan left the nest fifty years ago.

"Thanks, Gabriel. I really appreciate it." Together we both haul the woman into the Ancients' nesting chamber, and, predictably, she starts freaking out again as soon as she lays eyes on the Old Ones. I roll my eyes at her incessant screeching. Every. Single. Fucking. Time!

Neither of us acknowledge the woman's screams as we drag her to the covered drain in the middle of the blood soaked floor between the Ancients, and chain her to the floor, then very quickly back away. The Ancients, who had been dozing from I went to retrieve the girl, open Their eyes, see Their next meal, climb off Their pedestals and advance on the poor girl, who's now screeching incoherently.

They sting her in unison, and drain some of her blood, before retracting Their stingers, and circle around her as if They're vultures. They use Their claw-like fingernails to slash the woman's skin open, making her bleed and making her even more terrified. Once she's terrified enough, They sting her again, and pull her to the floor...it doesn't take long for her screams to stop, then her heart stops.

My creator grabs her head, and yanks it all the way around, so that she's facing the opposite direction. Unlike Their youngest brother, the Ancients rarely let humans turn, They see immortality as a gift, and if you don't meet Their criteria, you don't become a strigoi. Loyalty and fighting skills are the two biggest criteria, but They'll also take your wealth if you have it. Both the New World, and the Old World Ancients are probably the richest in the world.

Once the Ancients have finished with the human, and have climbed back onto Their pedestals to go back to sleep, I unchain the now dead human, left her up into my arms, and bring her to the incinerator, which is right next door to the small chamber she was kept in.

While I'm waiting on the corpse turning to ash, I think about the night the Ancients turned me, after watching me for years through the eyes of my father, when I followed in my mother's footsteps and came close to dying in childbirth, after birthing a stillborn daughter.

Scandinavia, 887 AD/CE, Just after sunset.

"Push, Freya! You must push!" My aunt says to me from the bottom of my bed. I take a deep breath, and push when I feel the next contraction, the pain making me scream. I have been in labour now all day, and now into the evening, and still my child hasn't arrived yet. I'm worried, as I haven't felt my child move for almost a week. I'm also incredibly drained.

In between pushes, I glance towards the window, which is open slightly, and see two pairs of eyes in the darkness; one pale blue pair, almost white, and one pair of black with red: Quintus and my father. Quintus' ice blue eye are emotionless, but my father's black and red eyes are filled with both worry and dread; he's seen this before with my mother.

Around twenty more minutes of pushing, I finally feel my baby coming out, and my aunt pulls it the rest of the way. The baby doesn't make a noise. I look at my aunt, who's looking worried at my baby, and gently tapping the child's bottom, but no noises. She decides to strike harder, but still nothing.

"What is it?" I ask in a weak voice. My head is swaying on my neck, like it's really heavy, and my eyes are drooping closed, my vision going black at the edges. "Aunt Helga? What's wrong?"

"She's not breathing." My aunt reluctantly says to me, still holding my daughter. "I am sorry, Freya, but your daughter is stillborn."

My eyes fill up with tears, and my vision darkens even more. I hold my shaky arms out to my daughter, and my aunt gives her to me. I hold my tiny baby to my chest, and looking at her closed eyes. Her lips are blue, and she's growing cold from my body heat seeping out of her. The tears fall down my face fast, and I struggle to breathe. Eventually I take in a deep breath, and scream. My aunt winces at the scream, but says nothing. Looking at the bloody bed, my aunt now starts to panic.

She turns to her helper, and demands towels. I vaguely hear her, nor do I pay much attention to the young girl running out the door to get extra towels. The only thing I care about is my dead daughter. My eyes droop even more, and my vision darkens further, and my daughter feels like a heavy rock.

"Freya? Stay awake, Minn Dýrr mær. Please stay awake!" She rushes over to me, and takes my child from my arms. I don't want her to, but I have no energy to fight her off.

"Please." I say weakly. "Please." Instead of giving my daughter back to me, she rushes out of the room with her, most likely to see where her helper has disappeared to. I collapse back onto the pillows, and continue to cry loudly.

"Dýrr Einn?" The voice makes me look to the left, and I see my father standing next to the bed. Quintus is standing by the open window.

"Faðir?" My voice sounds incredibly weak, and my throat feels dry.

"She's lost a lot of blood, brother. She won't make it." Quintus says, his voice full of the emotion that his eyes lacked earlier, but now I see that emotion on his face, including his eyes. I turn to my father and watch as he tilts his head to the side. I learned years ago that when he did that, it meant the Ancients were talking to him. His eyes snap back to Quintus.

"They want her brought to Them." He says. Quintus whirls to look at him in shock, then their heads whip around to the door, where my aunt is just outside. "They want to save her. You must bring her to Them, Quintus. You are faster than me. Go now! Hurry!"

Quintus moves so fast, I can't even see him until he's right by the bed. He gently puts one arm under my back, and the other under my knees, and pulls me into his arms as though I weigh nothing, and I automatically wrap my arms around his neck. I look over his shoulder at the bed and see a massive pool of blood.

"Freya, put your head against my neck, Smár Einn." I do as he tells me, and feel the air rush at me as Quintus moves at a speed I never knew he had. I peek over his shoulder again, and see my father following behind, but there is quite a distance between us. I press my face against the side of Quintus' neck again, before everything goes dark.

)*( )*( )*( )*( )*(

When I come to, I have no idea if my eyes are open or closed, as it's pitch dark. I feel myself blink, but I see nothing: no torches, no candles, not even stars or the moon. I do hear voices though; they're all around me, but quiet. Two voices I recognise: my father's and Quintus', but I don't know what anyone is saying.

"Faðir?" I whisper. Suddenly, the voices stop.

"I am here, Dýrr Einn." My father replies, to my right. I feel a hot, yet soft hand touch my cheek. I can also feel warm wetness between my legs, and I still feel incredibly weak.

"Why is it do dark, Faðir?" Our voices sound strange; it's loud, and echoes, as if we're underground. Before he can reply, a spark appears to my left, and a torch is lit, lighting up the large space. I see that the walls and ceiling are made of rock, making me think of a cave.

Looking around, I see quite a few people who look similar to my father: bald, pale skin, pointed ears, pointed teeth, and red and black eyes. I look behind me, and see six tall and imposing creatures.

"Dýrr Einn, these are the Ancients. They wanted to meet you." I look up into the faces of the six Ancients, then quickly look down, away from Their eyes. I see Them reclining on something tall, which They're also standing on, but I have no idea what the contraptions are. They're also naked: Their bodies look old, and worn, and I think They were male at one point; They have flat chests, and They lack genitals. Raising my eyes back up to Their faces, I see that They're also completely hairless, and Their pointed ears are even longer than anyone else's. They also lack a nose. All six stare at me. I quickly look down again, and see a large pool of blood on the rocky floor underneath me.

"Vaun, the introductions can wait." Quintus says, near the torch. He must've been the one who lit it. "Freya is dying, and your creator agreed to turn her."

"Freya?" I look at my father. "My creator wants to make you like me, but needs your permission to do so. Do you agree?"

"Make me like you? You mean, a strix?"

"Yes, Dýrr Einn. It is the only way to save you." My father looks at me with wide, pleading red and black eyes. When I don't answer right away, he continues. "Please, Dýrr Einn. I watched your mother die, please don't make me lose you the same way." He makes a strange noise, like a wounded animal.

"I...I..." I stutter, looking all around at the others. There are about fifteen of them, not including my father, Quintus, or the Ancients. "I don't want to..." My father looks crestfallen. "...die. I don't want to die." Tears well up in my eyes, and I see my vision going dark again.

"You won't. You will never die again. Not of sickness, and not of old age. You will stay the age you are now." Quintus replies. I look from him, to the floor, then back to my father.

"Alright." I say. "I agree."

One of the Ancients comes down from Its perch, walks to me, leans down, and picks me up, like Quintus did when he carried me away. It pulls me up to Its face, opens Its mouth wide, then Its stinger appears, and very gently latches on to my throat. I feel I sharp sting, but I try not to make a sound. I watch as the other five Ancients climb down from Their perches, and walk towards me, before I see, and feel, Them sting me on various places on my body. The first Ancient's eyes are the last thing I see, and the last thing I hear, are the Old Ones drinking my blood.

)*( )*( )*( )*( )*(

Freya. Freya. Wake up,Smár Einn.

Mmmmm. Where am I? Why is my throat sore? Why is my whole body sore? I think to myself, hearing a deep, multi-layered voice in my head. I'm lying on the rocky floor of a small chamber. I'm assuming I'm still in the cave I was brought to earlier. I sit up, and look around myself. I see a few of the strigoi from earlier, but not the Ancients. I hear a strange humming in my head, but it's also oddly comforting.

You were dying, We saved you, just like We saved your father. Please wake up. You must feed, Smár Einn. Only when you feed, will the pain in your throat and body subside.

Feed? The thought of eating makes me cringe.

Vaun, please bring Freya a human, she needs blood.

Blood? My mouth waters at the thought of blood. Strange.

Yes, my Lord. I hear my father, but I don't hear his duel voice with my ears, instead it's in my head. After a few minutes, I hear the whimpering of a man. My father walks in pulling a naked, young man behind him, possibly younger than me, with a chain around his neck.

Once the young man is in front of me, my father pulls him down to my level, pulls his head back with his hair, and exposes his throat to me, but I look at him confused. My father pulls out a small knife, and cuts the man's throat slightly; not enough to make him bleed out, but enough to make him bleed slightly.

As soon as I smell the blood, my mouth automatically opens, my tongue appears, but it extents farther than that of a human, then it splits down the middle vertically before a stinger emerges, which lashes out quickly, and latches onto the man's throat, right where Faðir cut him. My stinger seems to know what to do, as I feel something protruding from the bifurcated end, and feel it puncturing through skin, and muscle, before it finally punctures through an artery.

As soon as I get blood into the stinger, I start sucking it up, and relishing in the relief I feel on my burning, and sore throat. Instantly, every ache in my body recedes with every gulp of blood.

"Slowly, Smár Einn." I her Quintus say from behind me. Funny, I never noticed him there earlier. He puts a hand on my back, but I instinctively growl at him, which sounds muffled because my stinger is in the way. Quintus growls back, louder and more aggressive than me, which makes me stop growling.

Listen to Quintus,Dýrr Einn. My father says to me in my head, but I ignore him. My stomach starts to twist uncomfortably.

Drink slowly, Freya. The multi layered voice says, sensing my discomfort, but this time there's more authority behind it. I listen to the voice, which I instinctively know is my creator, and slow down. The discomfort in my stomach slowly eases off. Not long after that, the human's heart stops.

Now, snap his neck, Smár Einn. My creator commands gently.

Why? I ask my creator.

He is not worthy of eternal life, Smár Einn. Only those we deem worthy are granted immortality. I do as my creator commands, and snap the young man's neck.

And I was worthy? I ask confused.

Yes, Dýrr Einn. We have watched you closely these past ten years, and We have grown very fond of you. I can hear the affection in the multi layered voice.

Is that the ONLY reason You saved me, my Lord?

Not the only reason, no. We have seen that you are incredibly loyal and an excellent fighter. Both are qualities that we look for in a worthy human. I don't know what to say to that.

I thank you, my Lords. Is the only thing I can come up with.

You are most welcome, Dýrr Einn. This time it's not a single multi layered voice, but several. I'm assuming it's all six of the Ancients talking at the same time.

So, now what is to become of me? I ask, standing up.

Now you will become a Sun Hunter. My father told me a long time ago that the Sun Hunters are what the Ancients call Their progeny, and their main function is to destroy the minions of the Seventh Ancient; a rogue that turns humans into strixes all willy nilly. The Seventh does not care who becomes a strix, It wants to turn quite a lot of mankind, and enslave the rest, but the other six Old Ones don't want that, they want to protect mankind.

My father tells Quintus what the Ancients said to me, and he walks around me until his at the front, and hands me my wooden sword.

"Come, parva soror, time to train you more vigorously to become a Sun Hunter." With that, he turns on his heel, and walks away, with me quickly following him into the night to train.

Training is difficult at the start, because strigoi twitch an awful lot. Once I master my twitches so that they're virtually nonexistent, I master the art of sword fighting, and move on to hand to hand combat, which I eventually excel at. I push myself to be the best fighter, and it pays off. Quintus remains the only one who can kick my ass into oblivion.

A/N: Well, how was chapter 2? Was it as good as chapter 1? Better? Worse? Please let me know :D

Oh, and regarding Freya and Vaun sleeping naked together; strigoi don't function the same as humans, even sentient strigoi. Vaun and Freya don't care that they're father and daughter, as there's nothing going on, except cuddles. Just in case anyone was screaming INCEST or something ._. Nope, no incest.

Regarding Freya's handguns: If you look them up, especially the stainless steel ones, you'll see they resemble Dean Winchester's gun from Supernatural. Anyone who knows me knows Supernatural is my favourite TV show, and that I love Dean's gun, and I wanted to add that into my fic here :D

Translations: (According to Google and a Norse website. I apologise if these are wrong)

Minn Dýrr mær - My dear girl (Old Norse)

Dýrr Einn - Dear One (Old Norse) {When Vaun says it, I want it to mean Dear One, but when the Ancients say it, I want it to mean Precious One}

Faðir- Father (Old Norse)

Smár Einn - Little One (Old Norse)

Parva Soror - Little Sister (Latin)