A/N: This is long, but I promise it is the only A/N of this length I will post.
I have received numerous private messages both on Fan Fiction and on Tumbler asking (actually, that is far too polite a term. I should say demanding) that I write select portions of Aurora Borealis as one shots from Dimitri's Point of View. I will be posting them in order of when I received the request, so they will not go in chronological order—although when I am done with the story I will probably re-arrange them in their proper order. If anyone has a request as to a certain chapter/scene of Aurora Borealis you would like to see in Dimitri's Point of View, please either send me a pm or leave a reviewand I will add it to the list and acknowledge you as the person who requested it in the authors notes. Likewise, you can shoot me a message on Tumblr with your request. The link to my tumblr is on my profile.
In the Vampire Academy series, when Dimitri is restored, he is haunted by the acts he committed as a Strigoi. Strangely enough, when Sonia Karp is later restored, her past actions do not hit her nearly as hard. It is hinted in the books that this is due in part to Dimitri being there to help her deal with the past transgressions she committed, but to me, that always seemed incomplete. When creating Aurora Borealis, I decided to take poetic license and slightly twist the reasoning behind Dimitri's torment, while at the same time giving Adrian a broader range of skills, as in my opinion, Adrian got the short end of the stick when it came to power. All the other spirit users were super powerful, and all Adrian could do was see auras, dream walk and minor healing—skills that the others could all master.
In Aurora Borealis, Adrian and Lissa discover additional spirit abilities while researching their element. In an attempt to master some of these new powers, Adrian experiments on Dimitri, which leaves the two men tied together by a mental link. Their link is not like Rose and Lissa's bond in the slightest, as it is uncontrollable and not always accessible.
In effect, the spirit Adrian used when experimenting on Dimitri links the dhampir part of him to Adrian even after Dimitri is awakened as Strigoi, leaving the 'good' side of his nature trapped inside when the dark side of his conscious takes control. The dhampir part of him (the 'pure' part of his nature) is forced to witness all the horrible acts he commits as Strigoi, and is forced to live with the actions slowly eating away at him day after day. Which is why, when he is restored, he is so bereft and inconsolable.
Disclaimer forentire story: I own nothing but a horrible clove cigarette habit similar to Adrian's. Only the plot I have created and written are my own—the characters, select dialogue and VA belong to Richelle Mead in their entirety.
Paradise… Lost & Found
Aurora Borealis Chapters 61
DPOV
Requested by Anonymous on Tumblr
The darker half of himself—the beast—was absent. He had no idea exactly how he knew this, the knowledge was just... there. It happened from time to time—one minute he would be trapped within himself, watching in horror as the Strigoi that controlled his body slaughtered at random. The next thing he knew he would find himself sitting in a chair or sprawled on a bed, unable to move, just staring off into space. In the beginning, it had happened regularly, almost like clockwork, but now—the periods between such times of reflection were rare, becoming fleeting and far spread.
He savored moments like this—during these few precious minutes of freedom, he was almost himself again. He still had no control of his body—try as he might, it remained unresponsive—but his mind was his own, without the slightest trace of the monster he'd become. He was able to remember and cherish the images he still held in his heart.
He pictured her sprawled beneath him in the cabin, her skin slick with sweat as her body tensed with her first rush of pleasure from the climax he had given her. He heard the tiny whimpering cries she'd made as she stared up at him, her eyes full of so much emotion, as well as the whispered words of love they'd exchanged. Had he been able to, he would have cried for all he'd lost. Rose… his beautiful, passionate Roza. Being in her arms had felt like Paradise.
His quiet reverie was interrupted by a tugging sensation within his mind, pulling him out of his thoughts about the woman he missed so desperately. Immediately he knew what the feeling meant, he recognized it from when he was… alive. Adrian Ivashkov was doing something—summoning him, somehow. He didn't understand how it was possible—he did not question it. Elemental spirit was a mysterious, amazing thing. Letting his consciousness drift, he followed the glistening spirit laced trail until he finally emerged in a dream.
Adrian's Dream.
He took in his surroundings with a cursory glance, immediately recognizing the location. Sunlight filtered down through the treetopsand he reveled in the warm feeling of it on his skin. He was wandering along the faint path he'd often taken when patrolling the academy. A sudden anxious feeling raced through him, filling him with the desire to see what was just ahead, hidden from view by the dense thicket of trees.
The cabin. Their cabin.
The place where he and Rose had finally given in to the ever growing love that flowed between them. The place where—for one brief moment of time—he'd found true happiness. In her eyes he had finally found peace. In her arms he had found the home he'd longed for—the sense of belonging; of being part of something greater than himself. He quickened his pace to a jog, eager to see if her sweet scent still lingered on the sheets. To see if perhaps he could find a few strands of her hair to hide away in his pocket—anything just to have a piece of her near him.
He was almost to the tree line when he heard voices. They were faint, but oh so familiar, igniting a steady burn of anger in his gut. His hands clenched, fingernails biting into the flesh of his palms as he heard her asking for a kiss.
It was Ivashkov. And Rose. His Roza.
Peering through the brush, he fought against the urge to burst into the clearing and attack the man, ripping him away from Roza. He managed to restrain the impulse, but it was difficult. Losing his soul had unbound the animal that lurked within him, allbut destroying the control he had struggled to master for so many years. It left him a victim to the baser side of nature—something that dwelt deep inside the heart of every being, whether they be dhampir, Moroi or human.
He watched for a moment as they embraced, lying on a blanket near the bank of the pond. Ivashkov rolled on top of herand she slid her leg—the leg that had only recently been wrapped around his waist—over the Moroi's hip as she pressed herself against the him. His already broken heart shattered even more at the sight. The sound of her passionate moans as Adrian's hands struggled with the buttons on the over sized white shirt that covered her luscious curves pushed him to the brink. He could take no more, his pain and anger snapping his fragile control. His voice echoed through the air, sounding almost like a low, threatening growl.
"You don't listen, do you?"
Ivashkov jerked his face away from Rose, his eyes scanning the area. "It's not really her—it's just a dream."
Dimitri stepped out of the forest, leaning against a tree as he glared at the other man. "I don't give a damn. I don't want you dreaming of her like this!" He studied Rose—well, this… dream version of Rose—and felt his heart constrict within his chest. She looked so real… so beautiful. Oh God, how he missed her. This wasn't fair on so many levels. She should be in his arms. In his bed. She was his, the other half of him. He'd lost his soul in that fucking cave in more ways than one—the loss of his Roza felt so much worse than the even loss of his very life. "You can control dreams so I know this is your doing."
As the words left his mouth, he felt a… ripple deep within him. The other was stirring, nudged from its overly sated blood induced stupor by the heat of his anger. The motion reminded him that this reprieve was finite—all too soon the Strigoi would fully rouse itself from its coma like state and reclaim control, forcing him back into the blackness. He would once again be forced to witness himself doing deeds so horrific they haunted his every moment. He was wasting time—time that he could be using to relive his precious moments with Roza—all because of Adrian Ivashkov and his damned spirit dreams.
"This isn't Rose—the real Rose is gone."
The words snapped him out of his melancholic musings, feeling like a physical blow. His Roza—oh dear God, what had happened to her? Panic raced through his body, leaving him full of adrenaline and ready for a fight. He'd faltered. He'd failed to protect her—he'd left her alone. She would have been so vulnerable, mourning him and all that had been lost forever—an easy target for her enemies.
"What do you mean gone? Did something happen to her after they… after they changed me?"
Adrian pushed away Rose's hands as they tried to pull him back down. "She left the Academy. She's gone off looking for you."
"No! You have to stop her, Ivashkov. I left Montana so she would be safe—she can't…"
As he attempted to give voice to his fears he felt the beast pulling at the strings that bound him. Struggling, he tried to gain a few minutes more, his body wracked with pain as an internal war was waged within his mind. It was all in vain. He felt himself slipping into the void as the dark half of his ego—his id—won the battle. Rational thought fled, taking with it all sense of decency and honor, leaving the primal, animalistic part of him to reign supreme. When he spoke again, gone were the raging emotions that he'd felt at the sight of his Roza with another man, replaced instead by a tone that echoed with the coldness of death and destruction.
From deep within his being, Dimitri Belikov watched and waited, horrified by what he'd become.
He'd sensed the pathetic surge of grief felt by his lesser self, immediately reaching out to suffocate it with his powerful embrace. The lesser one had been in control for far too long, having chained him in a small, dark corner of their mind—never giving him freedom to whet his many appetites. Appetites that were now—sadly—for the most part gone, replaced instead with two things; the burning thirst for the elixir of life, and a need for complete and total power over others of his kind.
At the glorious moment of Awakening, the ties that had bound him in his dismal prison were snapped at precisely the moment their soul had vanished. Finallyhe was free to take over. Never again to be locked away, now all he desired was within his reach. He was filled with a hunger—a deep aching need—wanting to drain the world. To exert control over all, grasping the reins of the Moroi, taking whatever he wanted. He wanted to be a king… no, a god—ruling over every Strigoi in existence. And he would accomplish it. Soon.
The lesser one struggled against him, but in the end, he won—as always. It couldn't have happened at a better time, in his opinion. If he'd had to feel the simpering fool pining for his lost love for a single minute more, he would have awakened and gone on a rampage, glutting himself onblood and resulting in another dangerous bout of lethargy.
Staring at the pathetic Moroi in front of him, he recognized the man at once. It was the fool who had caused him the inconvenience of dealing with the lesser one in the first place. He glared at the man, knowing his mocking words would pain the creature that he had mastered and now kept trapped within. "Such a sentimental fool, wasting time mourning lost love like a fucking love struck poet."
"Why are you here?" The Moroi's terror laced each word, spicing the air with its delightful scent.
A movement behind Ivashkov caught his eye, pulling his gaze away from the trembling man. He studied the woman reclining on the blanket, amazed to feel a pleasant tightening in his groin as he processed who she was—it was her, the lesser ones woman. In an instant, he was hard and ready, yearning to claim her.
"She is my mate—my perfect match in every way. I was planning on returning to collect her, but thanks to you, now I know all I have to do is sit back and wait for her to find me."
Emotions flowed across the Moroi's face, first terror then confusion. "How is this even possible? You shouldn't be able to enter my dreams—you can't be asleep."
"You're right. I don't sleep. But you don't have to be asleep to dream, you fool. Besides, this isn't a dream, per say, at least not on my end." He actually found he was enjoying this—enlightening the man who he planned on one day destroying. "Do you know the meaning of the word torpor, Ivashkov?"
He looked… befuddled. "No, I don't."
"Not very smart, are you? Torpor is a state ofmotor and mental inactivity with a partial suspension of sensibility. An inactivity resulting from lethargy. A lack of vigor or energy, if you will. All animated beings—even the undead—need a way to… recharge their batteries, so to speak. Right now, I am in torpor, my body overly sated from a recent… feast. Unfortunately, when I am in such a state, he sometimes gains the upper hand."
"That makes no sense. You're one and the same."
Fool. Moroi and dhampirs thought they knew the truth, but in fact, they knew nothing of the mechanics behind an Awakening. He'd taken the time to learn, gathering the knowledge from the eldest of his kind, never revealing the reason he needed it. If they knew that the lesser still resided within him, they would attempt to conquer him—it would be seen as a weakness, and among the Strigoi, only the strong survived.
"We are and yet we're not. When one is awakened, the soul leaves the body. The spirit remains behind, but it is broken at the separation from the soul, leaving it malleable to the… darker side of our nature. In the end it embraces the changes the darkness brings instead of fighting against them. You have prevented that from happening because you are connected to our spirit. It causes us to have… feelings… emotions… that are not natural in this state."
He told the truth—to a point. There was no need to mention that once the spirit was broken, the lesser part was banished in the same manner as the soul. Likewise, there was no need to mention that the lesser somehow… influenced him, making him ponder things that were better left alone. He was doing it even now, causing him to contemplate how it would feel to hold that beautiful female creature close, protecting her and shielding her from the world. He felt a burning desire to do just that—all because she was important to the man he had once been. It angered him, making him feel the overwhelming desire to rip into tender flesh and drain the life force from within, adding it to his ever-growing reserve of power.
Suddenly his head throbbed as a strange thrumming filled him. It was unexpected, and for a moment,it almost made him panic. He realized the Moroi was calling on magic, preparing to defend himself. Just as suddenly he recalled exactly what Ivashkov specialized in, and any concern he felt drained away. He waited with a smirk on his handsome face, knowing that the fool could not harm him—he wasn't in command of a dangerous element—like fire, after all. Soon enough the smirk faded, and his eyes narrowed against the ever increasing brightness in the clearing. Ivashkov had done something different… the very scent in the air had changed, filling with an intoxicating fragrance that he somehow recognized, but could not quite place. He had almost latched onto what it was when the female spoke, the sound of her voice causing him to harden even more, until his body was tight with a burning, frenzied need to have her.
"What the fuck are you doing, Adrian? I told you to stay out of my dreams!"
The woman… Rose was different. She seemed so much more vibrant than she had just a moment before. More beautiful, as if she had somehow…. He bit back a laugh as he realized that Ivashkov had unknowingly pulled her into the dream.
"Oh God Rose—I'm sorry! It was an accident, I swear!"
"Get the hell off of me Ivashkov," she growled.
He watched with amusement as Ivashkov backed away from her, attempting to keep his puny body between them, and almost laughed at the sight. As if Ivashkov—who was a head shorter than he—could block the sight of his massive stature from her view. Smiling, he decided to play with the man—he so enjoyed tormenting his prey before putting them out of their misery.
"Very good, Ivashkov. I would much rather see my Roza—the real thing is so much more enjoyable than the simpering imitation you conjured up before. It's no wonder I still hang on to the memory of her— she is… amazing."
She froze, her eyes widening as her face expressed complete shock. "Di… Dimitri?"
"Rose!" Ivashkov reached over, trying to grab her chin. "Look at me!"
"Let me go! Let me see him, damn you! Dimitri!" She struggled in the Moroi's arms, and for a glorious moment, he actually thought she was going to succeed in breaking free and running towards him. He longed for it to happen—he would wrap his arms around her and hold her so close, inhaling the wonderful scent of her hair as he kissed her into breathlessness. He would... Frowning, he shook his head, trying to dispel the lesser ones thoughts from his mind. She was a means to an end—nothing more. He had no attachment to her other than the fact she would be his most powerful ally.
"No! You're not going to remember this, Rose. You had a bad dream—that's all. Now wake up!"
The accursed brightness dimmed, and he felt a twinge of regret as he watched his Roza fade away, once again no more than an animated imitation. No matter how lifelike, it could not hold a candle to the real woman. Hot rage filled him, tightening his jaw and causing his fangs to slice into the inside of soft skin of his lips. "You kept her safe this time, Ivashkov, but I'll be the victor in the end. She'll be with me soon enough. Now that I know she's coming, I'll have to prepare something… special for her. Something fitting for such a fierce, beautiful creature."
A cage, he thought to himself, to house my little tiger until I have her tamed.
Ivashkov spun to face him, his eyes filled with fury. It was almost amusing to watch, like a gazelle standing up to a lion. "If what you say is true—that you have feelings and emotions because you remember what you once were, there's no way you'd hurt her. You love her, just as much as I do."
He pondered the statement, testing it out in his mind. Did he love her? Was he capable of love? The burning warmth at the thought of her felt like it could be love…
Yes.
In his own way, he decided, he did. "Indeed. That is why she'll join me. We'll be together forever. We'll conquer the Moroi world and rule hand in hand. It will be the beginning of a new age—one in which the Strigoi will dominate the night." He arched a single dark eyebrow and smiled. "Goodbye Adrian. I'll see you soon. Sooner than you might imagine. Tell everyone I said hello, won't you? Especially the last Dragomir. She's taken advantage of my woman for far, far too long. I intend to free Roza from her clutches once and for all."
And he would. Because in the brief instant that he'd contemplated love he had done something unwarranted. For the first time since Awakening, he'd willingly let the lesser one mingle their thoughts, and he'd spent a moment reliving the memories that played throughout his consciousness. He'd felt the sense of completeness… of belonging with her. He'd felt the Paradise of her touch… Her scent… The taste of her…
YES.
He had found her, because of the lesser one. She was theirs. His. She belonged at his side. He ignored the screams of fury that echoed through his being as the lesser one realized he had failed. He'd thought the memories would protect Rose, making him cherish the woman and value her life. But he'd been wrong—oh so wrong. Yes, he would protect her. Yes, he would cherish her—but her life held no value. When awakened, she would be his queen, wandering the blessed darkness of the night as they conquered the world. She would be his dark goddess, warming his bed, and once again he would feel the pleasure of burying himself in the warm, tight wetness of her body. Rose. Roza. Soon, she would be his forever, and no one would be able to separate them. Any who tried would find a slow, pain-filled death waiting for them at his hands.
He smiled to himself as he left the dream, deciding that Adrian Ivashkov would make a fine first kill for his Roza. Beautiful, glorious Roza, the woman that would be his eternal bride.