Disclaimer: I don't own any recognisable characters in this story; they all belong to Guillermo Del Toro, Chuck Hogan and the bigwigs at FX. I only own Jenevieve Blake. Not making anything from this, it's just for fun.
A/N: This story has been bouncing around in my head for a while, and I eventually got it down :D Thinking of doing a similar story later. Looks like my Plot Bunnies have revived somewhat :D WHOOHOO! I guess this lockdown with the Coronavirus has helped with my Plot Bunnies. Hope everyone is staying safe, and only venturing outside for essentials or if they're essential workers (if you're an essential worker, I salute you. Thank you Xxxx). Be safe.
Hope you like this.
The Ancient.
Chapter 1:
The remainder of the nest is waiting in the Ancients' chamber for Quinlan to show up; there are only six of the Sun Hunters left: Vaun, Lar, Michael, Tobias, Jacob, and Petyr, when everyone hears footsteps coming down the long corridor. Vaun is not there; he's out hunting. Looking up, the Ancients and Sun Hunters see the Born coming towards them, with a bit of a sneer on his face.
"So, are you finally ready to act to save yourselves?" He asks, standing on the threshold of the chamber.
"We are." Lar answers for the Ancients.
Very soft movement is heard in the corridor behind Quinlan. Being the closest to him, Petyr peers around him and looks. There are a lot of strigoi quickly filling up the corridor. Quinlan sees Petyr's eyes going wide, and he turns around and sees what Petyr sees. The others see the strigoi as well, and the three Ancients start growling angrily, and sit forwards on Their pedestals.
The unclean are not just coming down the same corridor as Quinlan, but they're also coming down the other corridor several meters from that one. There must be two hundred or so, and are lead by one that's dressed in a tailored suit, and wearing makeup and a wig. He's holding a steel briefcase in his only remaining hand.
"What is the meaning of this?!" Lar demands. At the moment, Quinlan is not sure if Lar is asking the question himself, or for the Ancients. The Old Ones are throwing the word 'traitor' around.
Quinlan would never betray us! Michael says, telepathically. He still thinks of this nest as his! He, Lar and the other three Sun Hunters retreat closer to the Ancients, whom have come down off Their pedestals and are standing in the middle of the bloody floor near the drain, and bring out their weapons to protect the Old Ones. Michael shifts his shotgun in his hands, and raises it to point at the unclean, and the others do the same. They all cock their shotguns and pistols at the same time.
TRAITOR!
HE HAS BETRAYED US TO HIS FATHER!
NO! Michael is right; Quintus would never betray this nest, especially to the Young One!
"You traitor!" Lar says, turning to Quinlan. Clearly he's parroting what his creator had said. "You did this!"
"NO!" Michael yells at Lar. "Quinlan would never betray us! I just said that!"
"He's right, Lar." Petyr speaks up from the left Ancient's side. "This is still Quinlan's nest! He's our brother, Lar! He'd rather die than betray us!"
"No, this is not my doing! Nor is it my fight!" Quinlan says. That last bit is said in an uncertain tone. Clearly he thinks it is his fight. "You've invited your own demise."
The well dressed strigoi looks at the Ancients, and his eyes glow with the Rogue taking him over. He looks straight at Quinlan now.
"The Born! What an unexpected pleasure! Fitting that you should be here and bear witness." The deep voice of the Young One flows through his smiling lips. He turns to address His brothers. "And you! I knew the humans would be complacent, but I never anticipated how impotent you Three would be."
The Ancients are standing side by side with Their arms crossed, and growl. The middle Ancient goes so far as to snarl at His brother. The Master makes his lapdog grin even wider at that.
"You should have been masters of this world! Kings! Emperors! Gods! Instead, you are already so like statues to a fallen race! This step I take is more merciful than triumphant." And with that, the lapdog brings his steel briefcase up a bit, he flips open a small panel on the top where a lock would be, and presses a button. Instantly it starts beeping very fast, before slowing, then it beeps like a countdown, albeit a fast countdown.
OH SHIT! IT'S ABOMB! Michael says telepathically, though everyone already knows that.
The well dressed lapdog backs up, before his siblings rush forwards. Quinlan pulls out his sword in his right hand, and has an Uzi in his left; he rushes forwards while slashing and shooting at any unclean that gets in his way, while trying to run back through the corridor. The rest of the nest starts shooting the unclean, but it's clear that the Sun Hunters won't be able to do much to protect the Old Ones.
The unclean have weapons of their own, but they're just using branches, or baseball bats, not guns or knives. The shotguns quickly run out of ammo, but the Sun Hunters are able to take down quite a few. Quickly dropping the shotguns to the floor, the Sun Hunters pull out their side arms: black Colt M1911A1 handguns. They quickly run out of ammunition for them as well. Lar, Michael and Jacob go down, and the Ancients make whimpering noises, which is lost amongst the growlings of the unclean. A few moments later and Tobias and Petyr go down too. The two shorter Ancients demand the tallest Ancient to go.
LEAVE US!
GO WITH THE BORN!
SAVE YOURSELF!
NO! PLEASE! PLEASE DON'T MAKE ME LEAVE! The tallest Ancient can't help the sobbing whine that escapes, as It whips Its head around and looks at Its siblings. If It could shed tears, It would. Both speak at the same time.
You MUST go! Help Quintus with his mission! Find Vaun, and the two of you must help Quintus save mankind!
The tallest Ancient takes a few steps towards the corridor killing unclean as It goes, but stops dead in Its tracks, and watch as the unclean rush to the shorter Old Ones, and It's impressed by what It sees. Its siblings fight back, slashing Their claw-like fingernails across the faces of the unclean, killing them instantly. Several of the Sun Hunters got too close when the Ancients fed, and had the claw marks on their backs as proof of how sharp those claw-like fingernails can be. One of the Ancients tears the head off one strigoi one handed. The very same Ancient looks up, and straight into the eyes of Its youngest sibling.
FLEE, BROTHER! GO! LIVE! FOR US!
It lets out dry sobbing because It knows what will happen to Its siblings.
Rushing through the unclean and killing a few with Its claw-like fingernails to get to the mouth of the corridor, the tallest and youngest of the New World Ancients launches Itself into the air and grabs onto the ceiling of the corridor. It hoists Itself up and turns upside down. Using Its long fingernails and toenails, It sprints on all fours along the ceiling, bypassing the unclean and very quickly catching up to Quinlan.
Quinlan and the Ancient are almost to the exit: Quinlan fighting his way out, and the Ancient still sprinting on all fours on the ceiling, and the last thing either is aware of is a loud explosion, which knocks Quinlan off his feet.
The Ancient has just enough time to drop from the ceiling and scrambles on top of the Born, making sure to cover as much of his body as possible, then there's a bright white light and then the ceiling falls down. The Ancient throws Its arms around Quinlan's head, while ducking Its own head down beside the Dhampir's, before everything goes black.
)*( )*( )*( )*( )*( )*(
When the Ancient comes to, It immediately notices It's in pain; It feels that several of Its bones are broken and there's a sharp pain in Its throat. It uses Its back to move the rubble off It, and once It's free, It removes Its arms from around Quinlan's head.
Climbing to Its hands and knees, It sees that even though It covered the Born with Its arms, he still managed to acquire a head injury, though nothing too severe, just enough to knock him unconscious. It takes note of Quinlan's strong heartbeat and deep breaths, and gently turns his head to the side, so he's able to breathe better. The Ancient looks at the short piece of rebar that's protruding through the right side of Its own throat, narrowly missing Its stinger.
It climbs off the Born's back, and moves a few feet to his left. Grabbing the rebar at the front of Its throat, It pulls it through while shrieking in pain. It makes sure that Its worms aren't near the Born. The Ancient knows that It will need a new host body, as the one It's been currently inhabiting for nigh on two centuries is starting to fail and has been for a while now.
Lost in Its own thoughts about which new body to inhabit, It fails to hear a human walking towards what's left of Its compound. The human was drawn to the Ancient's shrieking.
"Hello?" A light, feminine voice catches Its attention, and It swiftly looks up into the blue-grey eyes behind the dark framed, rectangular shaped glasses of a female. "Is anyone alive in there?"
Cocking Its head to the right, It notices that the female can't see It. It notices a sliver of a crescent moon behind her and now knows why she can't see It, or the Born...yet. It's night time still, and human eyes cannot see very well in the dark, though Strigoi can see perfectly fine in the dark, but the Ancient can see in the dark much better than a human can see in the daylight.
Lowering Itself back onto the ground, the female sees movement and comes a bit closer to the Ancient, but not close enough. The Ancient starts making whining noises that sounds remarkably close to an injured animal, which the human hears and makes her move within striking range of the Old One's stinger, but It doesn't sting her just yet; It analyses her first.
The woman seems to be in her late teens or early twenties but could be older. She's approximately five foot five inches in height and she has a heartbeat that's a bit faster than the average adult human, but she seems healthy enough. But the Ancient concentrates Its hearing on her abdomen, and cocks Its head from right to left. Not hearing another heartbeat, It opens Its mouth, releases Its stinger and latches it onto the woman's thigh and the stinger itself imbeds into the femoral artery.
The woman shrieks in pain, but the Ancient uses the bifurcated tip of Its stinger, which has a large talon-like tooth on each side, to pull the woman closer to It. The female stumbles in the debris, and her foot catches on a large piece of concrete; she trips and falls straight into the arms of the Ancient Strigoi, who's happily draining her of her blood.
The Old One covers the woman's mouth so she's not shrieking loud enough to attract the unwanted attention of others, looks into her eyes and confirms that there are no other heartbeats in her blood: she's not pregnant, which It's relieved at finding. It doesn't take much of her blood, only around a pint, and It stops draining her once she starts to get dizzy. The Ancient lays the human on her back in the rubble and leans over her. Wide blue-grey eyes stare up at It in fear. The Ancient purrs to the woman, in an attempt to console her.
I am sorry, Little One. The Old One says to her telepathically, but knows she can't hear It. It starts to make repeated gulping noises, similar to that a dog makes when it's about to vomit, and the girl sees the red swirls on her attacker's throat expand and contract with each gulp. The Ancient grabs onto the human's throat in a grip tight enough to force her mouth open, then It opens Its own mouth, which is around three times wider than a human mouth, and vomits a torrent of white blood and bloodworms into her open mouth. Once finished, the Ancient falls to the left side of the human, dead.
The woman coughs and gags while turning her body to the right, then sticks two of her fingers down her throat to try and vomit up the worms, but it's too late; the worms are already coursing through the woman's body. She collapses facedown onto the ground and breathes heavily for a few moments, until she hears equally heavy breathing coming from right beside her.
Turning her head towards the sound, she sees another Strigoi lying on its stomach beside her and she scrambles to get away from it. Not moving her eyes away from the Strigoi, she doesn't see movement so assumes it's unconscious, if the large lump on the back of its head is anything to judge by.
What is going on? Why are you still here? The woman jumps suddenly at the loud voice and looks straight at the Strigoi, but sees that it's still unconscious. She looks around her but doesn't see another soul around.
"Who said that?" The woman asks. She has an accent that's clearly not American and her voice is croaky, like she has a sore throat.
I did. The voice replies. You should not be here anymore.
"Who are you? And what are you talking about?" The woman clears her throat, but grabs onto it when it hurts to do so. It feels exactly like when she got her tonsils removed a few years ago. That was a fun pain to have, especially at twenty-six years of age. At least her uvula doesn't fell as large as it was after she got her tonsillectomy.
I am the Strigoi who attacked you. I am an Ancient, but you may call Me Sariel.
"Sariel? Ancient?" The woman asks confused, while looking at the corpse of the monster that stung her. She now notices that the voice is in her head and is distinctly male, and sounds like there's actually more than one voice. The multilayered voice also has a slight accent to it, but isn't discernible.
It is just a name My siblings and I call Ourselves. Called Ourselves, I should say. My brothers are all dead...except for the Young One. And please do not all Me a monster.
"Oooh...kaaaay." The woman scrunches her nose up at Sariel's response. "You never answered my other question: What's an Ancient?" While the woman was talking, Sariel noticed that her non-American accent is one It's heard before: around forty years ago the Ancients had a human Sun Hunter called Patrick, who shared the woman's accent. Patrick was from Northern Ireland; a country at the very top of Ireland. The woman's accent isn't identical to Patrick's; it's ever so slightly different, but it's similar.
There were Seven Ancients. Sariel replies. The Ancients were the original Strigoi. Now there is just Myself and My younger brother left. The woman opens her mouth, clearly about to say something else, but Sariel interrupts. We must leave before My brother sends more of His minions here. Grab the Born and leave.
"Huh? The Born?" The woman hears Sariel sigh in exasperation.
The Strigoi next to you. He is the Born. The woman looks at the still unconscious Strigoi next to her, before replying to Sariel.
"Are ya nuts?! I can't lift him!" The woman takes in the Born's obvious height and weight. "There's no way in Hell will I be able to lift him! Have ya seen the fucking size of him?!"
Yes, you can! Just pick him up!
"No! I can't!"
If I can lift him, then so can you.
The woman is about to protest yet again, when Sariel interrupts yet again.
JUST DO IT, WOMAN! She winces at the volume, but doesn't argue further.
"Okay! Okay! No need to be such a nasty arsehole!" The young woman climbs to her feet, squats down beside the Born, rolls him onto his back, places one arm under his shoulders and another under his legs...and lifts him off the ground like he weighs nothing. "Fucking Hell!" She gasps in shock, blinking rapidly to clear her slightly blurred vision.
Good. Now, is there somewhere safe we can go?
"Uh, yeah. I've been hiding out not far from here." She replies, shifting the unconscious Strigoi's weight in her arms better before walking quickly away from the remains of the building. Twenty minutes away she stops at what looks like an abandoned factory. She sets the Born down onto the slightly wet ground before pulling out a key, she inserts it into a padlock attached to a thick chain wrapped quite a few times around the handles of a pair of doors. Once the padlock and chain are off, the woman picks the Born back up in her arms.
Smacking her hip really hard into the double doors, which swing open, she carries the Born in and sets him back down on the cold concrete before going back to the doors, shutting them and chaining them. She puts the large padlock back on the chain to keep the doors closed.
Coming back, she picks the Dhampir back up and carries him to the far end of the factory, where there is a single door. She goes through it to a stairwell and goes down. Once at the bottom she goes through another door, down a narrow corridor that's just big enough for her to carry the Born when she turns sideways, past several more doors before stopping at yet another door, which she very awkwardly opens without letting go of the Strigoi in her arms. Inside the small room are two cots: one on the right side of the small room and one on the left.
Once through, she walks to the left cot and lays her charge down before going back to the door, and shutting it, then locking and bolting it. She takes her coat and black woollen beanie hat off, and sits down on the chair near the cot watching the unconscious Strigoi, and flattening the wisps of her flame coloured hair. Unlike the Strigoi she's seen in the past few weeks, this one isn't like the others; oh, his skin is pale and he's bald, but the others she's seen normally have red blood running down their chin, their clothes are filthy and rent, and they usually have some hair. This guy's clothes may be filthy and rent, but the woman suspects that's more to do with where she found him in the rubble. And there's not a single drop of red blood on him anywhere, nor is there a single strand of hair on his head.
He is technically not a Strigoi. Sariel says, hearing her thoughts.
"What is he?" The woman asks the voice with the multiple harmonics.
He is a hybrid. Half human, and half Strigoi. Sariel feels the woman's eyes widening at that.
"How does that work?"
A long time ago, his mother was stung by My younger brother when she was pregnant with him. The worms turned her, but he only partially turned. He is a lot more civilised than any Strigoi you have met. The woman doesn't say anything for a moment while she digests what Sariel has told her.
"How did he only partially turn?"She asks, looking at the Born's dirty and slightly bleeding face. Just like Strigoi, the Born's blood is a pearlescent white, but there are no worms that the woman can see.
His mother's womb protected him from the worms, but not from the Young One's blood. His kind are forbidden. And he also has no worms, so he cannot infect a human when he feeds from them.
"If his kind are forbidden, then why did you ask me to pick him up and get him to safety?" The woman asks, furrowing her strawberry blonde eyebrows.
Because he is not like the others and Ozryel loves him. Plus he MUST destroy the Young One.
"Who's Ozryel?"
Ozryel was the Angel of Death and who We Ancients come from. We let him live for Ozryel. The woman's eyes widen and her strawberry blonde eyebrows shoot up into her flame coloured hair.
"The Angel of Death?!" She asks incredulously. "The fucking Grimm Reaper?!"
Yes, but not exactly. Ozryel was not what you think; He never took lives unless He had no other choice. The Grimm Reaper, as you put it, kills everyone because that is his job. They are two different beings...always assuming the Grimm Reaper, or Death itself as an entity, even exists.
"Oh." The woman continues to look at the Born, especially the stripes on his face. They start of as a single stripe going from the top of his head to just above the bridge of his nose, where they break off into two and go diagonally down each side of his face and neck. She can't see any more of the stripes as they disappear into a black collar, but she notices that he also has stripes on the outside edge of each eye, which lead to the back of his head. Upon closer observation, she notices that his stripes are made up of dark veins, generally three of them entwined, but they get wider below his prominent cheekbones. "Wait...you said the Born isn't like the others. There are more like him?"
Not anymore. Quintus, or Quinlan as he goes by now, is the fifth and last of his kind. The others were killed. The woman detects a hint of sadness coming from Sariel.
"You had one, didn't you?"
Yes, I did. Mine was the third Born. The Young One murdered mine many centuries ago.
"I'm sorry." She says.
Thank you.
"Hang on! You said Ozryel loves this Quinlan. Loves, not loved." The woman notices the use of the present tense.
Yes...? Sariel asks confused.
"Does Ozryel still live?"
Yes, and no.
"What does that mean?"
It means the Ancients were Ozryel, and We are also not. The woman is about to ask for more clarification, but Sariel interrupts. Ozryel and two of His brothers, Michael and Gabriel, were sent to Earth to destroy the cities of Sadum and Amurah, that would be Sodom and Gomorrah to you, but Ozryel became obsessed with human blood. He attacked the owner of a very sinful building and drank her blood, then He became obsessed with knowing if angels bleed.
After the cities were destroyed, Ozryel tricked Michael into getting away from Gabriel, then attacked Michael by ripping His throat out and drinking His brother's silvery blood. After unsuccessfully attempting to turn Gabriel away from God, Gabriel summoned Raphael, who appeared on a beam of light pinning Ozryel to the Earth between two rivers, and there They tore Him into seven pieces, which They buried all over the Earth.
A long time later, Ozryel's silvery blood evolved into worms, which needed hosts to survive, and those worms eventually made their way through the dirt and into humans. Each of those humans became an Ancient that lusted for blood, just like Ozryel. Sariel stops telling his tale.
"Whoa!" Is all the woman can say. "But, how does Ozryel still exist?"
He exists within Us, and five of My brothers and I could hear Him in Our minds. I have no idea if the Seventh hears Him, though most likely does.
After Sariel's story, the woman stands up from the chair, and walks back over to the unconscious Born, and, using her new strength, she gently pulls him into a sitting position, and proceeds to remove his outer layers of clothing.
She pulls off the worn, dark brown leather harness on his back, which holds a longsword with a femoral bone handle. She sets it on the floor for now before pulling his long, black, heavy, woollen coat from his shoulders. She sees black leather straps on his shoulders on top of his black vest; looking at his sides, she sees that the straps belong to a pair of gun holsters, which hold an Uzi in each. She removes the holsters along with the Uzis and sets them down beside the sword.
She gently puts the Born onto the cot again then lifts his hips, and with much wiggling and manoeuvring, she manages to get his coat out from under his backside, which she lowers back to the cot before lifting his legs and finally pulling his coat off, and then lowers his legs back onto the cot with equal gentleness. She also removes his black leather gloves, folds them and puts them in one of the pockets of his coat. She gathers up his things, walks over to a coat rack near the bolted door and hangs everything on one of the pegs.
Looking the unconscious Dhampir over, she notices that his black leather boots aren't resting on the cot as they should, so she goes closer to investigate and discovers that each boot has an inch and a half silver spike on the back of the heel, which is sticking into the thin mattress and threatening to rip it. She unzips the boots and removes them; setting them on the floor at the end of his cot.
She leaves the Born in his black socks, black trousers, black leather belt, thin dark blue undershirt, and his black vest...then decides to go to the small metal locker on the wall at the other side of the door and pulls out a thick, dark green blanket and puts it on the Dhampir. The redheaded woman goes out of her way to be extremely gentle with the Born. Then the human sits back down on the chair beside the cot.
Thank you. Sariel says to her.
"For what?" She replies.
For saving the Born and for being gentle with him. Not very many humans have been gentle with him in his long life.
"Yeah well, I'm not like most humans." The woman notices that her vision has gotten even more blurry since coming back to her abandoned factory and takes off her glasses...which makes her vision better. Huh? Sariel notices this too.
You are also not exactly a human...not anymore at least. You have an Ancient Strigoi inside you.
Before the woman can ask Sariel to elaborate, or make any comments about that, a groan comes from the cot and grabs her attention. Bloodshot blue-grey eyes meet ice blue ones.
A/N: So...? What do you think? Yes? No?