- Summary -
They are godlike beings. With strength, speed and senses beyond any mortal's ability. Leaders of a new race of vampires, of their own armies.
She is their equal, greater than any mortal man and no longer bound to the laws that make her inferior to anyone. Never again subservient. Eternally young and beautiful.
This is an epic tale about power and reign, about equality, alliances and intrigues. This is the story of the three Vampire Elders, the story of Amelia.
Pairings: Amelia/Viktor, Amelia/Thomas, some Amelia/Marcus and Viktor/Ilona.
Other characters: Tanis, Semira, William, David, some OCs.
In flashbacks Selene, Sonja and Lucian will appear.
Rating: M, for violence, cruelty, blood etc.
- Author's note -
This is a fanfiction about the three Vampire Elders, Viktor, Marcus and Amelia, focussed on Amelia.
It's based on a story I've written in my native language (German) about 10 years ago, some months after Rise of the Lycans had come out. It remained unpublished then, because I thought there wouldn't be enough readers.
I have more free time now and I'm in love with Underworld again, so I chose to translate it into English and finally post it. I also had to rewrite parts of it because Blood Wars revealed some information on Amelia's background.
I tried to keep it as canon as possible but the official Underworld authors made some mistakes themselves, especially regarding the timeline, and so I needed to change or ignore minor facts to keep my story logical.
I've also read „Blood Enemy" but since it's no longer canon, I only borrowed a few aspects from it.
If you're wondering why I've written the pairing Amelia/Viktor, please watch the scene in the first film again, when Viktor hears the news about Amelia being killed, or listen to Semira's and Thomas's dialogue in the portrait gallery in Blood Wars (Semira says: "Viktor and Amelia, side by side for eternity."). Amelia's and Viktor's relationship is implied twice.
With the great help from my wonderful betas Darktidings and Caffeinated-Bunny, I hope I have accomplished an interesting and exciting fanfic on the Elders' life.
Enjoy :-)
- Prologue -
2002
Half an hour after the lycans had ambushed the train and torn apart her servants, Amelia was still alive. Her outstanding strength as a vampire Elder had not saved her from the brutal force the beasts had used to throw her off her guard. Without a weapon or armour, she had been helpless in the face of their claws and teeth. Now she lay on the floor, breathing heavily, feeling her precious blood escaping her veins drop by drop, her increased power of endurance causing her a slow and painful death. This was not the way she wanted to die. Meaningless, without a chance to fight.
A huge black lycan, frightening even in his human form, entered the train car. He produced a glass syringe from his pocket and approached her. One of the transformed lycans forced her head to the side, so he could drive the needle into her throat. The last thing she saw, the last thing that came to her mind, before everything went black: Him. His cold blue eyes and his warm smile.
- I -
Eastern Europe, 5th century AD
Amelia had been fifteen when she was married for the first time. Her first husband, the old and fat Sir Laszlo, who had been chosen by her father, had molested her on their wedding night. She had been running from him, and when he had tried to go after her, he had fallen down the stairs and had broken his neck.
Her second husband, Baron Karoly, also had been chosen by her father. He had been wealthier and more handsome than Laszlo, but he had drunk far too much and he seldom had showed her the respect deserving of her station. One night he had feasted with his men and downed three cups of a particularly sweet-smelling wine. The next morning, he had lain dead in his bed.
Amelia's father had come up with a third candidate, the short and ugly Count Gabor. He had been hunting when he was shot by an arrow. Where it had come from or who the bowman had been, no-one knew.
Amelia was twenty-five when her father wanted her to marry for a fourth time. She refused. She was a countess now, with the lands and the peasants of three husbands. She had enough wealth for a lifetime.
So she thought, until on a sunny morning in September. A servant had brought ill-timed and unwelcomed news at dawn. A pack of wolves had overrun the nearby villages. When she rode out of the castle and down the hill, she could already smell another catastrophe. A fire had broken out in a ruined house, and the harvest of a whole year was gone, lost amid the smoke and flame.
Her father had calculated their chances to hold out until spring. The result was devastating: the current stocks wouldn't last more than two months.
So he tried to force her into marriage once more. She refused to obey him. When the argument between them became a fight, her father stumbled and fell off the high castle battlements and into the abyss below the keep's walls.
Now Amelia was free to make her own decisions. She would go north to the prince's castle and sell her estates to one of the nobles. Then she would head for the city, buy an estate, and live as a free woman.
She had written a letter to the prince wherein she stated her situation and asked to come and stay for a couple of weeks. Although they had never had the opportunity to meet before, his steward wrote back and, in appreciation of her late husband's regular tax payments, invited her to come.
The castle high up in the mountains was massive compared to her former home and estate, at least three hundred people lived here. And it was a fortress. Soldiers were positioned on every tower and Amelia's coach had to pass several checkpoints and guards until she finally arrived in the courtyard. Unsurprisingly so, since the prince was not very popular among his subjects. In the past he had not only won uncountable glorious battles, but also had murdered peasants and pillaged and burned down whole towns. By now he was an old man, sick and frail, and didn't show himself often to the public anymore.
She was welcomed by servants who led her to the guest quarters. Fine tapestries covered the walls and the bed was clean and comfortable. She wouldn't be unhappy here if selling her lands took a little longer than anticipated. She bathed and dressed up for the evening with the help of a serving girl, putting on her best velvet robe and some powder and rouge. While she let the girl work, she noticed that the polished bronze mirror in the guest room was twice the size of the one she had at home. Content with the plaiting of her hair, she left her quarters and headed for the throne room.
Prince Viktor of Moldavia was a great warlord and had been the ruler of his lands for over forty years. Now he couldn't sit upright on his throne anymore. Bent over with age and the constant ache in his chest, he rested his head in his hands. He stared into the empty vastness of the room in irritation. Today some petitioners would be arriving, and they would without question torment him with their endless lamentations. He growled when the first one stepped through the door and began his well-studied speech. At least he brought a sack of silver coins to emphasize the urgency of his request. After two hours of unnerving requests and pleas, which were all declined by the prince, there was only one person left on the long list of petitioners: A Countess Amelia, whom Viktor had never heard of.
But better never heard of than heard bad of, he thought to himself.
When she entered the throne room, she kept her shoulders straight, her posture upright and proudly walked along the long carpet until she stood before the prince's chair, then she went down on her knees and waited for him to address her. Viktor looked ashen and gaunt. He stared at her with tired eyes of a watery pale blue colour and a few strands of thinning dirty blond and gray hair fell to his shoulders. That man would not be Prince of Moldavia for very much longer, Amelia thought.
The countess was indeed beautiful. Young, with fair skin, slightly exotic features, raven hair, and light green almond-shaped eyes. Her slender frame seemed elegant and strong at the same time. Viktor managed to smile crookedly.
"What is it you require, Countess Amelia?" he asked.
"I wish to sell my estates so I can leave this country and settle down in the city, Milord."
She answered, respectfully lowering her head. Her voice sounded like silk. Viktor raised a graying eyebrow. He'd definitely have enough silver to buy her little county and also could make use of it, but if she'd leave as soon as she sold it, he would only be able to enjoy her beautiful looks for a couple of days.
"I am not interested in your land." he said. "Was it not overrun by rabid wolves some time ago? My secretary told me that all of your peasants were slain, and the harvest lay destroyed."
Amelia, still kneeling, eyed the floor and began to fidget with her silver bracelet.
"That is correct, Milord.", she said, unable to keep the curt note from her voice.
"Then why should anybody be interested in it as long as no-one will till the fields anew?" Viktor asked, answering her tone with a mocking question of his own.
Amelia balled her elegant hands into fists. She had known how he would react. The prince was famous for his lack of generosity. But she wouldn't give up now, nor could she, in truth.
"Please allow me then to stay at your castle until I find a buyer, Milord," she asked of him, her voice unwavering and still sounding like honey.
The old prince smirked. She had the proper manners befitting a lady and woman of her station.
"You shall stay as long as you wish, Countess Amelia." He tried to let her name sound as silky as she had spoken his form of address to him. However, his raspy voice failed him.
The prince had been right. None of the nobles at the castle would desire to buy her estates, with many of them declaring it useless until the next harvest. Some of them pretended to consider it, then offered her a ridiculous sum well below what the lands were worth. Amelia had never believed that it would be so difficult. After a week of futile negotiations, her last hope were some boyars who were expected in the evening. She heard that they were coming to bargain on the taxes. If they were successful, perhaps one of them would afterwards be merry enough to spend some money on land. Amelia made certain to be in the throne room when they arrived. She watched Viktor, sitting in his seat wearily and listening only halfheartedly to their suggestions. When their prattling became a nuisance, he finally raised his head.
"I will not abandon my system of taxation just because the aristocracy has nothing better to do than perpetually nag me about it. Throw them out!" he ordered.
Several guards approached the boyars and grabbed their arms when a scream resounded in the hall. Because of all the people in the room, Viktor failed to see what was happening, but Amelia was standing directly in front of the struggle. A boyar had drawn a long knife from his belt and dragged it across the neck of a nearby guard, who only could utter a short scream before slumping to the ground.
"Attack!" the boyar with the knife called, and all the other nobles drew their weapons as well. A bloody brawl began between them and the prince's guard as she watched frozen in place.
What the devil is happening here? How could they pass all my guards and soldiers? Viktor thought, panic welling up inside him. He tried to stand up and draw his sword from its sheath, but could not even hold it out to defend himself. This accursed age! We humans succumb to infirmity far too soon! What are sixty years when one has to rule a nation?
Two of the boyars now came running towards him, shouting their battle cries. All the guards were too far away to come to his aid. Would this be Viktor's ending? With gritted teeth, he waited for their daggers to pierce his heart, still holding his sword in a white knuckled grip.
Suddenly an arrow struck one of the attackers in the chest, and a breath later, a second shaft pierced the other boyar's shoulder. The Prince turned his head, trying to make out who had just saved his life, when he saw Countess Amelia standing between the fighting men and holding a bow she had snatched from a fallen guard. Blood streaked her skirts, but she seemed heedless of the spots.
How on earth has she learned to shoot like that? While he wondered at the fact that a woman could be so skilled in handling a bow, a third attacker came up from behind Viktor's throne, wildly swinging his sword at the prince. A final arrow went through the man's throat.
In the chaos, more guards had entered the hall and eventually disarmed the rampaging nobles. They were chained up and taken away.
Prince Viktor stood in front of his throne, thunderstruck. In less than a couple of minutes a battle had broken out in his own castle, he had nearly lost his life and then been saved by a bow-wielding countess. The shock seemed to be writ large on his face, for Amelia approached him and took his arm.
"You should rest, Milord," she suggested.