Instead of a Recap, I suggest reading the previous few chapters so that this one seems longer.
~~~0~~~
Elsa could see blood everywhere.
Logically, she knew it couldn't possibly be real. Logically, she knew that there was no way the world was so red, as if frozen in a perpetual sunset. But that's what she saw, and it made her want to puke.
She had done so actually, and everything that had been heaved up from her stomach was brown. Rust-scented, brown chunks in liquid.
She had needed to get away from home, but the sun had been too bright, so she couldn't run that far.
And he was watching. Maybe not always, but he was watching.
A part of her felt like cracking her own skull open, if that could get him out of her head. But anything she did to harm herself would only lead bring her closer to his goal. For through her death in the flesh, she would arise reborn as his queen.
His slave.
Five days, he had told her. Just five days, before she was to die. He was being generous, in his eyes, to even let her live out the last of her life with those she loved. She was to be his for all eternity, so what a few days?
She hated this. She hated him.
Elsa buried her face in her hands. She was sitting in a cafe, nicely air-conditioned and out of sunlight. The coffee that she had bought to buy her time here has long gone cold, and the smell of it made her even more nauseous.
Maybe she should have picked somewhere else to crash. Anyway, didn't Anna patronise this place? At least, it matched the cup that she had on her that night when…
The girl's nails bit into her palms.
For Anna. She was doing this for Anna. And if things went according to plan, Anna had a chance of being hurt. So she had to do this right.
It was then she could feel him peeping up in the back of her mind, and her loathing from him swelled. Shoving away those thoughts from before, she lifted the coffee to her nose and tried to focus on how it made her want to throw up. As horrible as it made her feel, Elsa noticed that she could feel his interest in her circumstances wane, probably disapproving that she still insisted on touching human food. Did he seriously only drink blood? That was a rather boring diet.
It was then she noticed a notification on her phone screen. Tapping on it, a message appeared. Hastily checking the back of her mind, hoping that he wasn't paying any attention, Elsa scanned the messages:
11:13am: Mum says ok.
11:13am: She says u can come stay with us too if u want. The sofa can open up into a queen bed.
Elsa quickly typed back her response: 'It's ok. I've other arrangements.'
A couple dots appear on the screen, then the white speech bubble appeared on the screen, bearing: 'You sure? We're really ok.'
So generous. So willing to share. Why couldn't more people be like Kristoff?
Oh, no. She thought his name. Quick! Quick! Change stream of thought!
Elsa shoved the coffee under her nose again and instantly gagged. Oh, why couldn't she think of a better way of going about this?
"Are you alright?"
Elsa blinked, glancing wide-eyed to the lady who sitting at the booth near her own, nursing a cup of tea. The streak of white in her hair and the wrinkles arounds the contours of her faces suggested her in late middle-aged category. She had kindly look about her, and she bore a concerned expression.
Laying the horrendous beverage down, Elsa tried to smile. "Um, yes? Sorry if I've been bothering you in any-"
"Oh, no, no, I'm just waiting for someone, so there's nothing much going on at the moment," the lady answered with a gentle laugh – one that oddly reminded Elsa of her mother's own. It was warm and caring. "I just noticed that you're looking a bit pale and you haven't drunken any of your coffee. Are you well?"
"Oh, ah," the girl tried to scramble for some semblance of a sensible reason.
Fortunately, the woman seemed to come up with that all on her own. Leaning forward, inquiring - "Is it that time of the month?"
Not able to provide a better story, Elsa nodded.
"Oh, you poor dear." The lady clucked her tongue sympathetically. "There're many great things about being a woman, but that certainly isn't one of them. Here." She opened the her purse, the hardy leather type that one might see a sensible mum carrying. She pulled out a small plastic bag. Within it was what appeared to be a mix of dried flowers, dried leaves and seeds. "A tea concoction of my own making. Just add some boiling water and the pain will roll right off."
"Oh." The girl wasn't sure how to refuse. Sure, after everything that had happened in the last weeks, the last thing she should do was accept anything from a stranger. Still, she could throw the thing away later if she wanted – it was easier than being caught in her lie. "Well, um, thank you."
Reaching out to take the packet, she noticed the lady's gaze drop to her left hand, from her scarred wrist to the ring on her fourth finger. Her eyes, which had been soft before, sudden gained an astute quality, narrowing down on her.
In a quiet voice, the lady said, "That's a nice ring."
Every muscle in her body tensed up, and the fear building in her mind was not helping in terms of warding off its back-seat driver. She clenched her received gift into her hand. "Thank you."
The lady seemed to be scrutinising her carefully, before pushing away her own cup. Folding her arms and leaning forward, she asked, "You seem a little young to be married."
'Laugh it off,' a voice in Elsa's head hissed at her. 'Just laugh it off and pretend that you placed on the wrong finger this morning.'
The blonde girl stared down at the sapphire hilted on its golden throne and saw herself removing it, letting out a strained chuckle as she did. "Oh, uh, silly me. Um, right – forgot all about that meaning. Hahaha."
"Oh, I see," the lady's expression appeared doubtful. Still, she did go back to nursing her tea.
Elsa's fake smile stayed plastered on her face even as she screaming in her mind, 'Even if I say anything, there's nothing she can do, is there? '
'That's for me to decide, beloved,' his voice, ever thick in condescension, echoed in the recesses of her mind. Already, she saw herself slipping her ring back on the cursed finger under the table, when the lady's head had been turned.
'I hate you,' she spat at him, reaching for her coffee once more. 'Now go away.'
She could feel his disgusting swelling in the background. 'Why you insist of drinking that, I have no idea. Your body now loathes it, beloved. Why torture it so?'
'It might be the last time I can even swallow this.' She braced herself before taking a sip. It was…actually…not too awful. It was nice, even.
Oh, no - wait. Wait. No. It was coming up her throat. Yes, it was definitely coming up her throat.
Spring to her feet, the girl made a beeline for the bathroom. Practically crashing to her knees, she grabbed the side of the bowl before proceeding to spew out all the beverage she had sampled – and a suspiciously black liquid riddled with brown clots.
When some of the nausea subsided, Elsa lifted her head and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "Well, I hope you're happy now," she muttered out loud.
There was no reply, not even the sensation of a reply. She kneeled silently there for a moment, glancing around the wall for any hint of shadow, movement, or any indication that he was listening at all.
Not a peep. Perhaps her gross little show had put him off for a bit. That gave her a little wiggle room. Pulling out her phone, the girl checked the screen. Finally, a new message flashed there:
11:11am: Arrived. Ready when you are.
Elsa sucked in a breath as she hastily rose to her feet. Admittedly, her steps were wobbly since her bout of nausea was very, very real. Still, she was able to gather herself enough to gargle a scoop of water from the sink, straighten out her tangled locks and take a deep breath. She pushed open the bathroom door, all ready to set out —
—only to run into the same lady from before, purse in hand and grave in appearance.
"I was just worried with how you ran off like that," the lady explained hastily. "Are you sure that you are-" she just trailed off there as her gaze fell just a little lower from Elsa's face.
At first, the girl couldn't understand what she was staring at. But then it hit her that somehow her scarf had become unfastened, and her neck – and the marks it bore – were uncovered.
"Um,-" throwing one end of the scarf over her shoulder "-I'm fine. Err, thanks for the concern, but I really need to go now."
And Elsa took off as quickly as she could. She didn't even take her umbrella, what with the lady calling after her and everything. Still, she sorely regretted this mistaking after stepping under the glare of the near-noon Sun.
Muttering curses as she unfolded her scarf, the girl tried to shield as much of her face as possible all while running out through the parking lot, then out to the nearby patch of greenery. She stopped when she reached the sign that read out the name of the café, complete with its promise to serve breakfast at 8am.
Elsa barely managed to let out breath before feeling a hand grab her shoulder and a cloth press over her face. Her eyes fluttered close and vaguely remembered her muscles turning loose. As for turning unconscious, well, she barely recalled that.
In fact, it turned out to be quite the surprise when she opened her eyes. She was in a completely different location now, lying down flat on something soft – a mattress. Her neck ached a bit, and her back muscle were stiff. She could feel something pressing on her scalp, so she reached up to remove it.
"Don't!" she heard a voice call out. "Otherwise, it'll all be for nothing."
Wanting to turn her head to see who it was that spoke, Elsa was startled to feel hands halting the motion.
"Wait," the person ordered. "Before you look at me, test out whether it works first." She felt one of her hands being picked up, and her finger brushed against the apparatus that sat on her head. It felt sharp, but not very heavy. "This is the thing you asked me to make for you. If it doesn't work, I'm gonna knock you again and try another prototype. Got that?"
Elsa nodded. She closed her eyes and searched her thoughts. She called his name in her mind, awaiting his answer. There was none.
She then opened her eyes, reaching for the ring on her hand. She reached for the ring on her hand. She ripped it off, threw it across the dark room and waited.
No explosion of anger. No overwhelming sense of darkness. No urge to get up and get it back. Her mind was very much alone.
"It worked," she said out loud, sighing in relief and gratefulness. It sliver of chance and she barely believed it, but somehow, it worked. "I can't feel him at all."
"Well, I hope that's a good thing."
It was only then that she turned to face him, and noticed the large purple helmet he was wearing, complete with opaque visor. "Why did you ask me not to look at you if you already covered your face up?"
"Just in case. You made it sound s serious." The boy flicked a latch on his helmet and the visor popped up, revealing his young countenance. He slipped the headgear off, shaking his unmistakably spiky hair. "With how specific your instructions got, I didn't want to risk botching everything."
Well, Elsa couldn't really blame him for erring on the side of caution. In fact, she was truly thankful that he chose to do anything at all, and told him as much.
Hiro just shrugged, helping her get to her feet. "Just wanted to help, that's all."
Elsa patted her hair, feeling the accessory sitting on her head. "What is this, anyway?"
"I'll show you. C'mon." Taking by the arm, he led her slowly out of the room.
After a few moment of her eyes adjust back to the light, Elsa noted they were back in the boy's work shop. It looked a little different from the last time she visited, with more knick-knacks sitting on the tables and more trash scattered around. But otherwise, the smell and general atmosphere hadn't changed much.
"Here." He brought her over to a stained, but relatively functional, mirror.
The first thing Elsa noticed was how much of a mess she looked. Her blouse and trousers were crumpled and dusty. The scarf around her neck looked a little ripped. Her hair was strewn everywhere, and somehow in that mess sat a gleaming circlet, which did not deserve to be there.
"You asked for something silver that would lined your whole head, so I just made-" the boy gestured to her head "-that thing. I thought it looked it bit a crown. Or tiara. Sort of."
Despite it being made in a short period of time, the headpiece that sat on her head was very elegant. The fact that the powers of silver extended to such was however the more amazing news. "It's lovely. Thank you so much, Hiro."
"Happy to help," he answered with a beam. Then, he frowned, "Okay, but seriously – what on Earth is going on?"
"I'll explain along the way, but we need to start working." She glanced around the work shop; it was hardly earthquake-proofed, and certainly not capable of withstanding an attack that. "He's been my mind several times, so he may know this place exists. He'll come looking for me once he realises what happened."
"Yeah, so… who are we talking about it?" The boy was understandably confused.
"A vampire. A very powerful, very angry vampire." She bit her lip. "He also might be technically be my husband."
~~~0~~~
Received —
8:15am: Hey Kristoff
8:48am: Kristoff
9:24am: Kristoff
10:00am: Kristoff, pls answer asap.
Sent –
10:02am: Elsa?
10:02am: Oh, hey Elsa! Slfr.
10:03am: Haven't heard from u since u got sick. How r u?
Received –
10:03am: No time now. Need ur help.
Sent –
10.03am: ?
10:03am: Ok?
Received —
10:04am: Kai hospital. Can Anna stay at ur home for now?
Sent —
10:05am: Who's Kai?
10:05am: KAI. OH. OH MY. OH.
10:05am: KAI. That guy who
10:06am: OH, man, so so sorry. I didn't know. How can I help.
10:07am: ?
Received —
10:08: ^[Received — 10:04am]
Sent —
10:10am: Oh, yeah. U alrd said.
10:10am: Ooops.
10:11am: Shld be k, but I'll ask my mum first.
10:13am: Texted her alrd. Waiting 4 answer
10:13am: What abt u? U need 2 stay too?
Received —
10:14am: No thks. Got plans.
10:14am: After you find out, can u pick her up from home n drive her to ur home?
10:14am: Asap?
Sent—
10:15am: What plans u got?
10:15am: I was planning to do video-games w Sven this morning, but ok.
10:15am: Does Anna play too?
Received —
10:16am: Just pick up her as soon as u can. Don't let her stay at our house.
Sent—
10:19am: Err, ok.
10:20am: U sure u don't want 2 stay over too?
11:13am: Mum says ok.
11:13am: She says u can come stay w us too if u want. The sofa can open up into a queen bed.
Received —
11:14am: It's ok. I've other … arrangements.
Sent —
11:15am: Well, if you're sure
11:15am: I'll go get her now
11:25am: Um, Elsa? U didn't tell Anna
11:25am: About staying at my place
11:26am: Elsa?
11:28am: Elsa?
11:31am: Elsa, what's going on?
11:45am: ?
"SHE TOLD YOU?"
Kristoff shrugged. "Yeah, I guess."
The brunette tried to scroll down on the phone screen, but refreshing the page apparently did not yield any new results. Pouting, she handed the phone back to him.
"Why didn't she tell me anything? Also-" Anna scrunched her nose up "-why ask for your help at all? It's not like we're ten. We're old enough to take care of ourselves till Kai gets better."
The boy just shrugged again. "I seriously don't know. Maybe she has a reason for doing this that we don't know about."
"Well, why wouldn't she tell us?" the girl hissed, flinging her hands up in frustration. The duffel bag sitting on her bed was no fuller than it had been two minutes ago, lying limp next to the clothes that Anna had thrown there. "Especially – why not tell me? Why tell you?" She pulled an incredulous face. "AND she using abbreviations? Since when does she used abbreviations?"
Kristoff shrugged once more, wondering privately if this much shrugging could build any muscle. He rolled up the untouched clothes on the bed and stuffed them in the bag. If he didn't help out, he had a feeling they were never going to leave and Sven might very well beat his high-score on Ice Heist 3 – and Sven didn't even have hands.
"She was acting kind of strange the whole yesterday, but she was still okay. This morning though-" the girl shuddered "-she was in this 'I'm-allergic-human-contact'-ish mood. She just told me to leave her alone." Anna frowned before sinking down onto her bed. "Do you think it's something to do with Jack?"
"Why do you always think it has to do Jack?" Kristoff scoffed, heading to the bathroom. He presumed Anna believed in dental hygiene, so he swiped the toothpaste and the two toothbrushes he saw by the sink, since he didn't know which was Anna's. He grabbed a hairbrush.
"I don't know. But somehow, all this weird stuff only started when he came into our lives. Would you believe Elsa started sleepwalking?"
By the time he returned to the bedroom, Anna was lying back on the bed, playing with some kind of metal ornament.
"She kept talking a man in black with a horse or something, but Kai and I have never seen any such man. Also, Kai brought her to some doctor before he got into the accident." She suddenly sat up, her eyes widened. "Oh my gosh, Kristoff. I think Elsa's gone mental."
"Okay." He found a ziplock for the toiletries and had them put inside. To be frank, he had no idea whether Anna was just making up all this stuff or she was really serious. But in all the time Kristoff knew of the elder Arendelle girl, Elsa always knew what she wanted to do and what she needed to do, no matter how she felt.
Maybe she was …'mental', as Anna had said, but maybe she recognised it. Maybe that's why she didn't want Anna around. Maybe she just wanted some space to think things out. Whatever it was, Kristoff respected Elsa enough to figure that she knew what's up with herself.
"Do you wanna pack any shoes?"
"Eh, the ones I have on are fine," was Anna's distracted voice. Her eyes fell to the small object she was playing with – it was a plain silver ring. "Hmm, she didn't wear this today. Funny. She's been wearing it for a while."
"Well, we can try calling her again after we reach my place," Kristoff said while zipping up the duffel bag, before throwing it over her shoulder. "Maybe then she'll tell us why."
"Maybe," Anna said doubtfully, still twisting the ring in her hand.
The boy stretched a hand out to her, which she accepted, and he hoisted her back to her feet. The two of them made their way down to the stairs of the empty house. Just before they exited though, Anna then said, "I think I'm gonna grab a pair of flip-flops just in case. You go start the car."
"Fine, fine." The boy waved her away while he headed out first. The bright sunny sky had abruptly transformed into a cloudy, grey one, with barely a speck of blue to be seen. It seemed that Burgess would see yet another storm.
Whipping out his keys, he headed over to the vehicle parked along the driveway and opened the boot. Tossing in the bag, the blocky lad suddenly felt an odd chill.
Spinning around, Kristoff surveyed the woods that flanked the house. Deeper under the shady green, he saw a horse, its hide as dark as night. Not far from it, he could make a thin figure standing near it.
"Got them, and my laptop too," he heard Anna's voice from behind him.
He glanced at her descending from the steps of the porch, then back at the forest. The figure and the horse were gone.
"Kristoff? You okay?"
"Yeah." His voice had a note of wariness though, even as he continued to scan the rest of the forest. There was no sign of anyone in it. "Yeah. Remember to lock up."
"Oh, yeah. Right." He heard the jingling of keys and the clicking of locks, followed by excited steps. "Alright, let's go."
As the two of them hopped into the car, Kristoff found that for all the shrugging he had done today, he couldn't quite shrug off the uneasy sensation creeping over him.
The sensation that something, or someone, was watching them.
~~~0~~~
Pato de Cabidela (by Tooth)
What you need:
1 cup of duck meat
1 cup of ducks blood
1 cup of duck stock
1/2 cups red wine
1/2 cup olive oil
1 tablespoon butter
1 tablespoon white wine vinegar
Salt and pepper to taste
1 tablespoon chopped parsley
1 onions, chopped
1 tablespoon tomato paste
How to Prepare:
1) In a bowl, season duck with salt and pepper to taste, tomato puree and red wine.
2) Leave the duck marinating in the refrigerator for about 2 hours.
3)Mix the blood with the vinegar in a bowl and stir well. Set it aside in the refrigerator.
4) In a saucepan heat the butter and olive oil with the chopped onions. Stir fry the onions until slightly browned.
5) When the onions are ready, then add the marinated duck. Cook it until it's browned.
6) Reduce the heat and add broth.
7) Cover the pot and simmer over low heat till meat becomes tender.
9) Add the blood mixture to the saucepan with the meat and bring to boil again.
10) Reduce the heat, then simmer for approximately 5 minutes on low heat.
10) Once done, garnish with the chopped parsley and serve while hot with boiled rice.
~~~0~~~
After Elinor had recounted all that she had seen – from the brutal murder she had witnessed by the detective to the troubled girl she had seen in the morning - her companion in the crimson dress fell quiet. Her slender, finely manicured fingers curled themselves around the ceramic cup before lifting it to her lips.
Eventually, the black-haired witch spoke, "It seems that the influence of nosferatu is more widespread in this town than I expected."
"Right beneath my eyes, all these years." Elinor let out a large sigh while massaging her temple. "How could I not see it?"
"Your contentment with home life has made you complacent." Gothel was not one to mince words, it seemed. "You've been too long away from the arts. You're not as astute as you should be."
As much as the chide stung, she couldn't really fault the assessment. "I suppose I'm not," Elinor admitted, rubbing the beads around her wrist. She thought back to her daughter – her rebellious daughter, who insisted on embracing her heritage in witchcraft her own way. "I wonder if Merida knew."
"Perhaps she did." Her companion murmured as she set her cup back down. "Perhaps they silenced her."
She raised her brows. "'They'?"
Glancing about to check that there were no eavesdroppers, Gothel leaned herself forward, her dark curls just barely brushing over her steaming tea. "Just like you, I've been doing investigations of my own. Here-" from her long embroidered sleeve, she produced a yellowed photograph "-do you happen to know any of these people?"
Elinor took the fuzzy old photograph, its colour close to fading off in her hands. There five people in total in the pictures standing before to what appeared to be some European-styled building. She didn't recognise any of them, except … "That boy." She pointed at the figure in question. "The one with white hair. He was -" her voice quivered "-he was at the funeral."
Even with the poor quality of the image, the bright blue eyes, that nose, that jaw…
"Merida's body was found in his locker. I didn't think anything of it at the time but-" Elinor leaned back into her chair, brushing her brown locks with more strength than necessary.
"This photo was taken nearly thirty years ago in Berlin," the other woman added. There was something unsettling about her expression, something a little too bright about it – almost ecstatic.
But Elinor was still too much in shock to notice this. "He still looks exactly the same age."
All the implications started to fill her mind. From the vampire that had kidnapped Gothel's daughter, to Merida's horrible death, to the boy with white hair, to the vampire parading as an investigator. In her mind flashed all the curious news that had been popping up — some lady being murdered in her car; some girl being assaulted near her home.
"It was just one giant cover-up," Elinor whispered, utterly horrified. Some girl being attacked the street. "Vampires killing off innocents and hiding it. My poor Merida, she must have found out somehow."
Her companion nodded in what was supposed to be a sympathetic manner, but there was a little too much enthusiasm in it.
"We have to stop them – every last one of them." Elinor declared grimly. "A stake straight into every one of those defiled, detestable beasts."
"Yes, dearie, we really should, but we need to smart about this," Gothel put in softly, patting her hand. "They still have my daughter, after all. The last thing I want is for them to provoke them and - well, they might hurt her."
"Of course, of course." The brunette forced herself to take two deep breaths. As eager as she was for vengeance, a plan was needed first. Lookingto her companion, Elinor inquired, "What do you propose?"
The other witch beamed at her, as if she had been waiting for that question all along. "Well, here's what I think we should do."
~~~0~~~
Today would certainly be a day for the history books, if the history books ever acknowledged the existence either of their species.
But alas, history didn't, so that meant that there wouldn't be any harassed sixth graders pouring over the dates and the details of this grand day in the future. So, yeah, lucky them.
Speaking of history, Jack was pretty sure he possibly the most bored person ever after sitting through in this awesome, grand meeting.
"This is stupid," he murmured to the boy sitting next to him.
"Shut up," Hiccup hissed to him.
"Why are you asking me to shut up?" He used his cuffed wrist to gesture vaguely at the two tables that sat in the centre of the hall. "You should be asking them — they've been at for hours!"
Indeed, the grand hall of Berk has hosted its two negotiating parties for four hours now — not including the twelve hours clocked in from yesterday which had left everyone bitter and annoyed. At the start, the hall had been filled with curious onlookers, eager to see their own butt heads with their most despised enemies.
…Except that nowadays, even creatures of darkness preferred to do things the civilised way and that meant sitting down and talking — a lot.
So now, nearing the fifth hour of the second day, the crowd had trickled down to single digits, of which most of them were either the higher-ups in the clan or just there to take a nap. Jack himself would have loved to take a step outside while waiting for the discussion to end, but he couldn't, because both his feet and wrists were literally chained to the ground.
As for the rest of their Guardians, they were all still locked in fierce discussion with the four other representatives of Berk clan. Even though the outcome of this negotiation had much bearings over his fate, Jack found it increasingly difficult to care.
Twisting his neck towards his friend, who was in this case also his guard, the white-haired lad whispered, "I'm gonna take a snooze, okay?"
"What?" Hiccup said a little too loudly. Fortunately, the eight were still too engrossed in their debate o didn't notice. At a slightly softer volume, the brunette lad hissed, "You can't snooze in a negotiation. Your life is at stake here!"
"Yeah, yeah." Jack lay his head on the table between his linked hands, closing his eyes. "Wake me up when it's something important."
"Oh my Thor — Jack, can you not for once?"
"Ssh, Hiccup. I'm trying to sleep."
"Oh, no, you don't."
He felt a jab against his ribs, but he just ignored it and continued closed his eyes. "Go away, Hiccup."
"They need you to talk, Jack."
"Nice try," the young vampire mumbled, turning his head as he tried to find a comfortable way to rest.
"I'm serious." The jab started to become more insistent. "Jack."
Lifting his head up and opening his eyes, the fellow in question was stunned to find that both sets of four had ceased their chatter and had now trained their gazes on him. "Oh."
"Yeah, oh," Hiccup grumbled under his breath.
"Mr. Jack F. Guardian," a rather muscular lady from the Berk Clan addressed him, "could you please recount to us what you were doing in Berkian territory under full-moonlight in this season?"
"Um." The boy licked his dry lips. It's been a day since he's drunken anything, and the clans people refuse to give him any blood. "I was looking for a friend."
The Berkian clan didn't look too impressed with his excuse. Each one of the Guardians just had pure incredulity scratched onto their mien – except for Bunny, of course. Bunny just rolled his eyes.
Feeling pressured to elaborate, Jack added, "Just thought that she might be in trouble. That's all."
"When you say 'friend'," a bearded guy with a hook for a hand inquired, "do you mean like an actual, platonic bestie, or like-" he made a weird-waggle with his bushy brow "-'friend'?"
"Gobber," came the firm reprimand.
"What? It's relevent."
"Gobber."
"Okay, okay." The hook-handed man rolled his eyes. "We'll do it your way."
The one who had rebuked him turned his own enormous form to the so-declared fugitive. He was a terrifyingly large man, with muscles as large as his face and a knotted beard with majesty that even surpassed North's own. Jack had met him once before, and he had never forgot how it felt to be in presence of Berk's chieftain.
His deep voice was like a crack in the silence of the hall. "What kind of trouble would distract you so much as to forget the treaty laws?"
Despite the way it was phrased, Jack sensed that the chief was not trying to slight him, but genuinely digging for information. Information that, by North not-so-subtly shaking his head, the Guardians did not want him to give.
So Jack pursed his lips and did not speak.
The chief's expression darkened, and his surrounding council were clearly displeased too.
"It's clear then that these blood-suckers are not being completely honest with us, Stoick." The spiteful-looking man seated by the table next to the stocky leader sneered in Jack's direction. "Who knows what other lies they might be feeding us?"
"Hold up, mate," Bunny interrupted, rising slightly from his seat. "Don't know if you've realised, but we don't take too kindly to the expression 'blood-suckers' when it's clearly what we don't practice."
"Yes, yes, you all only feast on animal blood-" the bearded fellow let out a derisive snort "-or that's what you say. For all we know, you are the ones tearing up the folks in the news." He raised his shaggy brows pointedly, his words ending on a scornful note. "Just because we live down here doesn't mean we don't know what's going up there."
"Spitelout," the chief spoke the fellow's name sharply.
"How dare you accuse us!" Tooth had kicked her chair back at this point, all prepared for the challenge. "And without any evidence, too! Might I remind you that werewolves as a race has a murderous history, of which your clan is not spared of?"
"No," the female on the Berkian side answered hotly, emotions too stirred by all the aggression. "But at least we don't build syndicates upon the abduction and sale of humans - we respect our mortal pasts too much for that."
"Why you-" rolling her sleeves back, Tooth suddenly leapt across the tables. It took everyone quite a while to realise that she had tackled that the muscular Berkian lady to the ground and now there was a huge crater in the ground.
Everyone kind of just stared for a second, until the hooked hand guy swapped out his hook for a hammer. He swung it in the air and bellowed, "Fight!"
Tables went flying abruptly in the air as both parties just dropped all pretences of civility and negotiations just turned into a full out brawl.
The two boys front-seat to all the action did not leave their positions, both entirely flabbergasted by the unfolding scene. This was quite unexpected. And bizarre.
And stupid.
"This is stupid," Jack said. Forgive his lack of creativity in vocabulary, but he was still in shock.
Hiccup however wasn't really fazed. "I suppose it's still an improvement from the last several hours."
To that, the white-haired boy agreed.
Someone had kicked back one of the tables and it shattered against the wall. The other table was used by Sandy, of all people, the way one used a baseball bat against the now hammer-handed fellow. It didn't do much though, just showering the other guy with splinters. He just charged towards Sandy, yelling all the way through. The little vampire didn't seem to mind, cheerfully blocking the one-legged man's every strike.
"How many hours till night, you think?" Jack inquired, having to raise his voice slightly due the cacophony. The noise seemed to have attracted attention from those passing by, for the previously empty seats of the Great Hall were quickly being filled again.
Hiccup glanced down to his phone. "About an hour I guess. Three hours till moonlight probably."
"Hmmph." Jack rolled his wrists the best he could without moving the cuffs too much – the silver was making his skin uncomfortably numb. "You think your folks can last that long?"
The brunette boy made a non-committal noise. "If it was me in there, no. But since it's my dad and the finest warriors of Berk, this will not end till someone dies." The two of them duck simultaneously as a chair flies over them. It's smashed to smithereens on impact, barely missing the embossed emblem of Berk hanging behind them. "Just be glad that most dragons don't come underground. They'll probably melt the faces off from your people."
Jack quirked a brow. "You do know that vampires are fire-proof, right?"
"Well, dragon-fire is quite different, so it might. Who knows," Hiccup shrugged.
"In your dreams." The white-haired lad lolled his head back towards the foolish skirmish. "Should we stop them though?"
"Thanks for volunteering."
"Why me?"
"Because … this is all your fault?"
Jack chewed on his lip. He wasn't sure whether the Guardians had understood what he had after he had seen the vandalism over the cookbook. They mightn't have, because they had never sunken so low as to deal with the most dreaded figure in all of the history of the nosferatu, the way he had once. Maybe they wouldn't have put the pieces together the way he had, given what he knew of Elsa's history.
What he was sure of, though, was that if he told a clan of werewolves that a vampire king was in town, they would rile themselves up in a frenzy. They would round up their forces, and they would hunt him down. Objectively, that wouldn't be a bad thing. Who knows – they might actually kill him, right? Some werewolves had been very successful in vampire slaying, given the feud and everything.
But in the process of enacting their form of social justice, there might be others who might be hurt in the process. Others, whose lives Jack was quite unwilling to risk.
Nonetheless, it would be unfair to leave the clan of Berk in the dark. He had no love for the Berkians, but Hiccup was a friend, and his people were just trying to protect their own.
So, the young vampire decided on a compromise. A partial truth. A part of the story.
Standing up, trying not to trip over all the chains clasped to him, Jack cleared his throat. "Ahem."
His throating-clearing went unnoticed, because pummelling another person's face was way more riveting than hearing what a teenaged-looking youth had to say.
Suddenly, a high-pitched howl pierced through the noise, rendering the entire hall abruptly silent. The members of the Berkian clan, caught mid-fight, had their ears perked up in interest. The members of the Guardians, also caught mid-fight, had their hands clapped over their ears.
Jack, visibly wincing from the after effect on his eardrum, turned to his still seated friend. "Warn me next time you do that."
"Your welcome." Hiccup leaned himself back in a chair, folding his arms.
Turning back to his now captive audience, the boy let out a sigh. "Okay, you guys should know the truth, because it probably affects you guys too."
Instead of telling them about the vampire king, he told them about Hans.
He told them how the assassin was an operative of the Van Helsing brotherhood. How he had tried to kill him. How he had tried to murder his friends to get to him, and succeeded with Merida (Jack didn't mention the witch part. Werewolves, much like vampire, had little fondness for witches.) He told of how Hans had raided Rapunzel's home – apparently, from the widened eyes of the Berkians, her reputation quite preceded her in Burgess – and stolen a laptop full of information (he also left out Eugene because…vampire). Information that included loads of patient data, of which a few probably belonged to individuals also amongst the Berkians.
"Basically, if he sends all this information back to the Van Helsings Headquarters, there wil be hunters swarming Burgess," Jack said. "Now, I'm sure you guys can probably protect yourselves pretty well, but…" he made a face "…with modern technology and sufficient numbers, they could probably wipe you guys out too."
"How dare you!" the sour-looking Berkian called Spitelout spat out. "You blood-sucking creatures think that we're lily-livered cowards like yo-"
"SHUT UP!" boomed several voices in unexpected unison, vampire and werewolf alike. For second everyone was just kind of puzzled by what had just occurred, and the Spitelout fellow just kind of looking white and very much subdued.
Then the Chief of berk asked North, "Is all this true?"
North, who had battered on and had been battering others on the head several times earlier, was still very much capable of comprehensible speech. So he answered, "If Jack says so, it's so. Also, this is the first time the rest of us are hearing it." He added the last sentence as an afterthought, which the rest of the Guardians nodded to.
The werewolves themselves appeared quite troubled by this bit of news, if their expression were anything to go by.
Finally, the Chief spoke up, "This new development is something we must discuss."
His statement was met by reluctant agreement, and very loud groans from the two boys.
~~~0~~~
Columbia Pepitoria (by Sandy)
1 cup of goat blood
1 cup of goat organs and goat tripe
8 green onions, chopped
2 tomatoes, chopped
2 big onions, chopped
1 tablespoon of pepper
1/2 teaspoon of paprika
1/2 teaspoon of cumin
1 spoonful of achiote
1 cup of flavourless oil
1 tablespoon of Soy sauce
Salt & Pepper to taste
1 cup of cooked rice
PREPARATION
1) Wash all the organs and tripe thoroughly with water.
2)Add organs and tripe to a pot and cover with water. Set to boil.
3)Once boiling is done, remove them from water and chop them up finely.
4)In a pan, lightly fry the onions and tomatoes.
5)Add in all the spices and annatto.
6)Add the organs, the tripe and blood into the pan.
7)Stir for about 20minutes, before adding spoonfuls of rice into pan. Keep stirring and adding till all the rice is added.
8)Add soy sauce.
9)Serve w any fried meats.
~~~0~~~
He could hear music playing in the mansion, which meant that someone was home. Great.
Eugene rather hoped that it was the white-haired kid. He didn't trust any of the Guardians, but at least Jack didn't look at him like he was the scum of the Earth. Besides, if the information that he had obtained from Weselton Manor was reliable, the kid had a right to know.
Climbing off the ledge of the window that had been his entry point, Eugene quietly slid it shut again. Tucking the manila folder he had obtained from Weselton's house in his satchel, he slipped quietly down the corridor. Though it had been many years, the art of stealth from his thieving days still did remain with him.
His muted wandering around the mansion led him to realise that it was really quite empty. Well, though the dark overcast of sky said otherwise, it was only half-past four at the moment. Maybe they were out at work … on a weekend. Sure. That was entirely possible.
He found himself entering some kind of living room, which was weird because it was on the second floor. But okay, the Guardians were rich enough to own a mansion, so … sure, a living room on each floor – why not? The weird thing was that the current occupant of the room was not one of the Guardians.
That title, in fact, belonged to his wife.
Rapunzel, blazing sunbursts and infectious joy all wrapped in a single human body, was collapsed against the sofa like wilting flower. She was in exactly the same dress he had seen her in the day before, her wrapped braid looking a little unkempt than before. She was just staring at the whirling black record on a gramaphone's turntable, her eyes not even flitting back and forth.
Feeling almost as if he was intruding, Eugene rapped his knuckles against the door.
She jumped, her gaze flitting from the record player to him. "Oh, Eugene." Rapunzel brushed one of the loose strands from her face, offering a weak smile. "I didn't notice you there."
"Yeah, I figured when you-" he pulled an exaggeratedly comical version of her shocked expression. "You know."
The corners of her lips stretched a little wider now. "I did not look like that."
"You absolutely did," he insisted playfully as he sat himself next to her. From the horn of gramophone, a shrill aria bailed out over the mournful tones of the orchestra. "I thought you didn't like opera."
"I don't." She cast a rueful look towards the old-timey device.
Leaning forward, the blonde woman pulled on the lever of the tone arm and pressing the stop button. Removing the record, she replaced with yet another she had found – it appeared that the Guardians had stashed a whole of them here – and set it going. Aligning the tone arm along the large disc, a pleasant waltz now rang in the air.
An impish grin took the place of her weary one as Rapunzel made her way to him, hands held out.
Eugene was never quite one for dancing. But Rapunzel had. Once.
With her hands in his, she guided them out to the empty space that had once been occupied with furniture, and now was their dance floor. There was no real deliberate movement, no real thought behind it. It was just natural for his grip to shift to her waist and hers to rest on his shoulder. It was just natural for their feet to sweep across the dusty floors in perfect harmony, stepping exactly as they should without the slightest hesitation.
"You remember," Rapunzel whispered conspiratorially as if someone might overhear, "that time when there was that ball in some baronness' honour and she made you dance with her all night?"
Immediately, he groaned. "Oh, yes. It was horrible. That woman had absolutely no sense of rhythm."
"She was absolutely smitten with you." His wife only let out an unsympathetic giggle. "It was kind of hilarious, honestly."
"She was eighty-two! And I reminded her of her dead son."
"That's why it's hilarious."
"And you-" Eugene shook his head chidingly at her even as he helped her do a twirl "-you just left me there. Your poor, helpless fiancé."
She rolled her eyes mockingly. "Oh, please. Whatever happened to 'Flynn Rider' being the lady-magnet?"
"Well, as it happens,-" he dipped her back, making her let out a squeak "-the only lady I'm attracted to is right here."
The blonde beauty in his arms let out an amused snort. "Very smooth."
"I rather thought so myself." He smirked back, leaning down to kiss her.
His wife wrapped her arms around his neck, enthusiastically reciprocating his affection - which he had no objections to. Yet when they drew apart for a breath, the smile and the flush that he had hoped to earn quickly faded back into a grave, almost morose expression.
Frowning himself, Eugene set them both back upright, trying to meet her gaze. "What's wrong?"
She pursed her lips, then asked in a very small voice, "Have you ever regretted it?"
"Regretted what?"
"Staying. With me."
He tipped her chin up and his lips met hers. "Never." And again. "Not in-" and again "-the slightest."
But Rapunzel stopped him before he could lean in again, frowning. "Eugene, please. Don't-" she sighed "-don't try to protect my feelings."
"I mean it," he protested, covering her small hands with his large ones. They felt cold – and he was the one who wasn't alive. "Every word. I always do."
She broke from his hold, her face unreadable as she stepped back. Swiftly turning, she marched back to the couch, reaching for one of the many card-boxes that the Guardians' had left stashed around.
Except this one bore his own scrawling of 'Eloise'.
His whole body tensed.
"You said that it was all gone - destroyed."
"I-I-"
"You told me that." She's aghast. No, confused. No, enraged. Or shocked. Or perhaps all of these. "Why would you lie about this?"
"I-" where was that silver tongue so ready to spin another tale, another excuse "-look, Blondie-"
"Don't 'Blondie' me," she hissed with surprising venom. Her fingers digging into the sides of the box curl inwardly around the cardboard. "I wanted to know. It's not fair."
"Rapunzel-"
Even more distraught then before - "It's not fair. It's not just you, you know. It's not fair."
"Rapunzel-"
"Why don't I get to care?" she demanded, tear rolling down her cheeks. "Why don't I get to grieve? Or be frustrated? Or angry? It's not fair!"
"Rapunzel." He moved towards her, only in time to catch the box that came tumbling from her grip. "Sweetheart-"
"I'm a terrible person." Her voice was soft and horrifically cold. Her expression was drawn and worn. Her emerald eyes, sick with red, flick towards him. "You hate me."
"No, I don't. And you're not a terrible person." He laid the box aside carefully, suspicion stirred within him. "Rapunzel, when was your last dose?"
His wife looked at him as if he was crazy. "Dose? Of what?"
If his blood wasn't already freezing, it would be running cold right now. He mentally added the days from the time that they had first left their own home in Corona, and the numbers weren't good.
"Eugene," it's her turn to sound wary. "Eugene, what are you talking about?"
He grabbed her by the shoulder, ignoring her startled expression. "Think carefully. Did you leave this house? Do you remember seeing anyone? Doing anything?"
"What? Yes, I went out for groceries." She shook herself out his grip, but he didn't relent, his hand latching around her wrist. "Eugene!"
He was shouting. He was begging. "I need you to think! Have you just to any place unfamiliar? Or just noticed anything out of routine. "
"Eugene, you're scaring me." She was trying to pry his hold off, but even a woman as strong as she was not match for the iron strength of a vampire. "Let go!"
They should have never left Corona. Never left their quiet, comfortable existence. Never let their easy routines forgotten by the troubles and worries of people they should have never cared about her. But Rapunzel's heart was too soft. Too kind. Too fragile.
"Let go!" She was kicking against him now, not that it really did anything. "I'm serious, Eugene!"
He ignored her, dragging by the arm towards the cardboard box. His eyes searched for the vials that he had hurried stashed there whilst escaping their burning home. He had taken them just in case, not really thinking they would be used, since he had believed Rapunzel would have made more for herself automatically. Except she clearly hasn't been doing that, because she no longer remembered the routine.
He shouldn't have been surprised that the vials were nowhere to be seen.
"The first thing you did was get rid of them, wasn't it?" Eugene murmured with a mirthless chuckle.
"I have no idea what you're talking about," was her frustrated answer. She was using her free fist to hammer on him, quite uselessly. "Let. Me. Go."
He couldn't do that. In this state, who knew where she might run off to? She'd be all alone, left alone with her fraught emotions and her fragile heart. That left only one option – to buy some time.
"I'm sorry about this." He was.
Rapunzel, perplexed and terrified, didn't seem convinced. In fact, she was getting more agitated, trying all the more twist herself away from him. He could feel her pulse beating harder and faster against his palm.
In one smooth stroke, Eugene yanked her towards him and sank his fangs into her neck.
The scent of her fresh blood filled his nostrils immediately, all the more keen when he knew it was her. She writhed against him without avail, but the more he drank, the weaker her protests became.
It was a good thing he had recently fed. Her blood was far too pleasurable for him and it was nearly impossible for him to pull himself away. The feral part of him mocked him still for delighting the crimson marks that he had left on his mate, while the self-loathing part of him berated him for doing this - again.
Her green eyes were blank as she watched him tear a hole in his own flesh. Eugene wept and apologised to her over, and over, even as he guided her to drink from his own neck. His sweet pure wife, degraded to such by himself. He despised himself.
No, he despised her – the one who made him do this.
Eugene had to forcefully drag Rapunzel away from himself, for the assault of her thoughts in his own head were coming in a little too strong. He hastily scanned her most recent memories, and he didn't like what he saw there – what he had felt there.
"I'm sorry," he told her through blood-stained lips, as his hands cupped her face. She didn't flinch, the way she would have normally. "I'll fix this. I promise."
Rapunzel – this empty shade of her, at least – nodded, as she dutifully lay herself down on the nearby couch, tucking her long yellow braid next to her before closing her eyes. Just like he had quietly instructed her in her mind, she was quickly asleep. Calm. Relaxed.
There's work to do, his logical brain told him. He knew how to make the drug himself – he had centuries to learn. The Guardians' house was huge and they experimented a lot with cooking – maybe they had all the right ingredients. He didn't know when they would be back, so he needed to get it made before they came back.
But he somehow found himself kneeling next to her instead, his hands reaching up to her now scarred neck.
She would heal the way she always did, and with that, the effects of his defilements would be gone. That was no excuse for his actions though. Yet, he didn't know what else he could do.
Eugene's gaze rested on the small cardboard box, the innocent little thing that had started this all.
For her, he had left behind his life of crime, straightened himself up and stepped into the role of husband and prince. He had become a good man, for her.
For her, he had left behind his life of wealth, debased himself and stepped into a darkness from which he couldn't never return. He had become a monster, for her.
Given a choice, he wouldn't have changed a thing.
Eugene kissed her knuckles, promising her sleeping form of his return. Just as he rose to his feet, however, his sharp ears caught the sound of the doorbell's chime.
~~~0~~~
So, this has been a weird chapter. It's weird a story.
It's been a long time since I've posted anything. I didn't even get to do an April's Fool chapter this year (which I had managed to do the last few years). It's not that I don't want to, but it's an agonising process to get what's in my mind down into the computer. I realised that the issue with writing is like you've literally trading hours of your own life for seconds in an imaginary world. There are people that can write really fast, but sadly I'm not one of those people. With how busy I am in college right now (doing some kind of internship that is killing me), yeah…these fanfics may (actually…it has…) outlasted this fandom.
On a side note, with fanfiction becoming published fiction becoming Hollywood films being all the rage today, I've been thinking about writing my own original fiction (I'm not gonna pretend I'll be able to finish all the fanfics I've started anymore – I'm too old for that). Out of all the fanfic stories that I've written so far, the one with the most potential for a conversion into an original is actually … this one. Of course, I can't just pull out all of the chapters and just change the names – The Immortal Haemovore's Cookbook was written specifically for this ROTBTFD fandom, thus removing it from its context renders it senseless. So this story would remain this story, and any future project…I'll probably write it from scratch.
That's all I have for you guys today.
Have a great Easter Weekend, and God bless!