Oh Dark Night
Chapter 1: The Child, and Vampire
Armand knocked three times on the doors leading to the inside of the rather large mansion. Marius answered the door, "Good evening, Armand.", he said stepping aside for Armand to enter.
The place hadn't changed since Armand had last been to see Marius, save a couple new paintings. One showed the legend of the Sun Temple, while the other held a mortal child in the hands of a vampire mother, another old legend. The halls were wonderfully decorated with fine art, and other items. Marius led Armand to a room that he had never seen before, though decorated as the rest of the mansion, in the center was a rather luxurious bed and in the middle of that was a basket containing a slumbering mortal child. "Marius, what is the meaning of this?", Armand turned around for an explanation.
"The child is yours, take him.", Marius said.
"I demand to know what you are keeping from me!", Armand demanded.
"I might as well. That child is your brother, Armand. You're mother gave birth to him before dying."
My mother? But how? She should have had died years ago. Armand thought to himself.
"He has no one, as you don't. He needs his own blood.", Marius perused knowing the loneliness of a vampire.
"He could not survive with me.", Armand turned to leave.
"Your mother died for this child, and you would leave it?", Marius stated, "You would leave the very thing that she left for you to remember her by, always?"
Armand turned to face the babe that lay there. God, how that one thing could look so like his mother! Armand had always regretted doing what he had, so despite how unlikely the child's survival with him, Armand took the child into his cold hands. It was warm, and warmed him. The innocence of the child was so delicate, and just touching it made Armand forget, just for a second, that he was a dammed. However, upon placing the child back into the basket, the thought came back. "I will take him with me, Marius, but only for her, not any other reason.", Armand stated, "And I shall call him Dmitri."
That night Armand hugged the infant close, the warmth was unlike any blood had given him, almost as though the child held a magic. Then Armand sensed another presence, "Lestat.", he said with hatred.
"So Armand, raising a mortal child are we now? You are taking too much pity in them I think.", Lestat persisted, "There was word that he is your brother."
"If you dare to lay a finger on him, I swear Lestat, I will send Maharet after you.", Armand said in a low, lethal voice.
"Well are we a little protective over him?", Lestat stated, "I will not harm him, he is yours, as Marius has said."
When sleep came Armand made sure that this precious child laid close for memories had haunted him of late, and Armand wanted to wake to peace. So he slept, with dreams of happiness, some where his, others were not. He could feel something searching his mind, but could not tell who it was. Armand did not mind, the dreams this being brought with it where peaceful, and have the most delicate of innocence. Never before had Armand felt so welcomed by the world, and so it would be for ages to come.
The child grew quickly, first walking, then talking, and not after too long he was four years already. "Dmitri, sing for me please.", Armand asked.
Dmitri songs where always encouraged by Armand for when he sung it sent wonderful thoughts, and memories to his mind for dancing in his head. Dmitri had a very odd way of knowing what sound Armand wanted to hear. Upon the approach of day Armand would lay there in his final moments of awareness and stroke the silk fine hair. Whenever Lestat came around, he would tease the young mortal constantly. "Are you sure you can keep up?", Lestat chided on their nightly hunt.
"Shut up Lestat!", Dmitri would respond promptly picking up his pace.
Lestat would never give the small child the pleasure of calling him by his name, instead he called Dmitri mortal. In return Dmitri would not give Lestat the pleasure of a retort, or response. Armand would watch their games with each other with slight humor. However, if Lestat went too far with play, Armand would send the thought of Maharet towards him, as a reminder. Visits to Marius's house were embraced by the young mind. Armand had held no secrets from his young, mortal brother, instead Dmitri was told fascinating stories that few mortals had ever heard. Tales of the vampire kind, a favorite being the vampire giving birth to a child. Marius would give usual greeting taking blood from Dmitri, and giving it to Armand. Then he would take both inside, teach Dmitri to paint, draw, and play instruments, even weaving stories. The whole time being called Uncle Marius, fondly by the small being who had brought Armand such happiness.
The night was fresh and wonderfully cool when the two of them arrived in South America. Armand himself had not been there yet, and so it seemed to be a new experience for both. Upon arriving in a clearing Dmitri asked to go explore the Incan temples, and ruins. Armand nodded agreement for him to go staying behind to search for a decent place to sleep for that day.
Hours later Dmitri returned dragging a very large book. "Armand, I found this book but I can not read it. Will you read it to me?", Dmitri pleaded his usual plea for a story.
Armand opened the large leather cover to reveal pages worn by age, the language was unknown to him. Marius would know. Armand thought.
So, a few nights later they arrived upon the doorstep of his mansion. "Uncle Marius!", Dmitri joyfully stated jumping onto him with a tight hug.
"Dmitri, how was the trip?", Marius promptly bit the child's tongue and took a hair of blood.
Upon being released from Marius Dmitri began to weave his own little tale of how he had found the trip. Armand smiled at the excited child, who had obtained this gift from Marius. Then Dmitri ended it with his finding, the book. Marius met Armand's gaze briefly, knowing that he held the book. "Let me see it.", he asked, and Armand handed it to him.
"Well I haven't seen this language in ages.", Marius said, "It went extinct years ago."
"Can you decipher it's meaning?", Armand asked.
"Yes, it is the Gift of the Sun.", Marius stated.
"The one thing to allow all into the sunlight?", Armand asked out of curiosity.
"As the legend states. The book that was made in the eighth year, of the eighth month, of the eighth day, eighth hour, minutes, and seconds of the first vampire's existence. Burned in the center of the desert by Apollo God of the Sun.", Dmitri recited by heart, having had heard it repeatedly.
"So a child would find it in the Temple of the Sun as a gift to all dammed.", Marius finished for him.
"Who knew that child would be our young Dmitri?", Armand wondered aloud.
So years once again ticked by, like breaths of air in the cold night, summer to fall, fall to winter, and winter to spring, only to start again. Dmitri growing more like his mother everyday, yet keeping the playful mind of the youth. He grew into a young man of fifteen, with long reddish brown hair, brilliant green eyes, and the beautiful grace of which Armand himself held resembling the fashion of millennia before. He held so much talent story telling of Marius, Armand's wisdom, and song, Lestat's humor with mortal rules, and thoughts. He could play instruments, read in many long dead languages, and write in the old fashioned calligraphy that modern men longed to know how to create. Dmitri was one of a kind, and in Armand's eyes a wonderful gift to all who knew him.
End Chapter 1