From Mortal Lips
By:
Setalina Muro
Summary: It is in grief I now tell this, his tale, dead though he is, this dear man, immortal as his love. I still love my master. And so a tale from mortal lips, giving glory to the Vampire I knew so well…Vamp-Pegasus SxS later on
Disclaimer: I do not own Yu-Gi-Oh or any places, people and/or other things you are familiar with from the show or anything else. The plot, however, is mine.
Secondary Disclaimer: I have a sad infatuation with Anne Rice, and I write strangely after reading her books. I'd like to state that this is not based on her marvelous books whatsoever. I will not take plot, character, or phrase from any of the Vampire Chronicles (New or Old) intentionally (if I find that I have, I will remove it immediately, acknowledging Ms. Rice's request that fan fictions of her books not be place on FFN) . I'm only mentioning them for the sole purpose of people knowing what I'm doing and where my inspiration comes from. Thank you.
A/N: I'd like to say this has the making of a filler chapter, but it marks a handful of events beginning to turn. But it looks like a filler chapter. And maybe it is. Not much of advancement in plot here. I don't suppose that will happen until we hear Pegasus himself atone to everything. At any rate, do enjoy this. It took forever to get done. Last updated in March, I think, so here we go.
Notes on the Story:
Bold statement(s) that follow will now be notes from Shizuka writing it years later, look backs from the author, because of course, this is a reflection type story. My apologies if there was any confusion in the last chapter. The first part (italicized there) was from Shizuka/Author/Shizuka
Italicized statements are Cyndia's diary.
The lines (which I'll have to put back in later...ffn is being retarded) between are for easier reading and separation between the entries.
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Chapter Three
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Dreams came and went. In the feverish stupor I noticed little, save for an intimate fear, newly established, of course. It would not prevail long, but I now sat deathly afraid of Pegasus Crawford.
No one came to my room save for Seto. There were times during my conscious moments when I could hear him ushering people away from the door, insisting I needed my rest. More often then not, it sounded like Otoji, investigating for his society, insisting that he needed to speak to me concerning many things he had overheard on the night of my birthday. Needless to say, Seto never let him in.
When not patrolling the door, he sat beside me. This was mostly at night and I slept most peacefully then, awakening only when he would leave for brief spells.
After my fourth night of being bedridden, I asked Seto if I was going to die. I think the question startled him for he grabbed my hand and insisted I would not. A few moments later he left, distressed. When he returned, I feigned sleep and he did not mention it again.
The next day I found the diary…
I hardly remembered the little book (about as much as I had remembered Pegasus), much less what the strange silver journal was doing under my mattress. I brought it forth and began to read it. But it was not until an entry dated the twenty-fifth of January, 1775 did I even recognize it. So, I began where I had left off three years ago…
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(Note: the entries that follow come from her diary, but only the most significant are copied here. It was written in almost every day in early 1775, the troubles of a young girl stricken with love that defied her parent's will, the entries dwindling and finally ending in 1781.)
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January 25, 1775
Dear Diary,
Mother and father have announced my engagement to the town. People will be coming from Boston tonight for a party in celebration. Diary, I must confess to you, I do not want to marry Crocketts! I feel no love for him or even like in the slightest. He's so much older, by nearly thirteen years in fact! I will not tell you it is because I have no wish of marriage at this age. Fourteen seems an acceptable time to settle down. Many of my friends are nursing their first child as I sit here writing this. No, it's not because I don't dream of finding someone to pledge myself to, but because I have always dreamed of marrying my beloved Pegasus. I don't know what to do. If I declared it to my mother, she would bar me from ever seeing Pegasus again!
And I cannot run away with him. I could not even tell him I was marrying his closest friend! Crocketts did that easily enough, however. I say again, I do not know what to do, and you, diary, remain my only confidant.
Yours,
Cyndia
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Common sense told me it could not have been the same Pegasus who attacked me that this woman spoke of so lovingly, but I knew it was. America...1775. That meant the Revolution and America's break from Britain. I'd read about it, but imagine meeting someone living then! It was a brilliant idea, but it seems there was no chance of something not going wrong with this pretty picture Cyndia was starting to paint….
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March 5, 1775
I accompanied Pegasus to his father's grave today. It is not much, as graves are measured, but Pegasus doesn't come often to this place and it is my belief his mother never comes here at all. Five years the father of my beloved has been dead, and Pegasus but a child of ten when his father rode off to Boston. The guilt remains with him that he should have gone as well. Of the five men slain in the riot that day, I am glad Pegasus was not one of them and glad that he did not stand nearby to watch his father die at the hands of the British. I somehow doubt he could have taken it well.
In another aspect of my life, Crocketts has seen fit to begin playing the role of fiancé and I am far from comfortable. My discomfort at his touch is not evident, I hope. My parents would be most displeased should I be rude. Pegasus knows and he watches Crocketts with disdain. He is positively bitter when we speak privately and I sometimes wonder if he plots something rash to remove Crocketts from both our lives. I leave with little hope of things becoming better.
Yours,
Cyndia
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April 8, 1775
Something is very wrong in the colonies and I fear Pegasus's involvement in this rebellion against Great Britain. Men are becoming restless in Concord. Ammunition is being stored here, or at least it is suspected. The British will be coming soon to crush the rebels. I pray Pegasus is not involved. I wish I could continue, but my heart is sick within me and I dread the worst.
Yours,
Cyndia
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April 14, 1775
Diary, it is as I feared. Pegasus is involved with the rebellion, though how deeply, I do not know. Crocketts is as well, but that hardly matters to me, but I saw many things tonight on the outskirts of Concord. The cry for war is strong now.
I snuck out and made the journey to the forest on horseback. Immediately I sought Pegasus, but I could not find him with the other townsmen. He was in the forest with three strange men. They were all dark skinned with strangely tinted eyes and Pegasus spoke to them as if they had done business before. At fifteen, he holds such a commanding presence. His father had it as well.
As I moved closer, I heard murmuring from these men. They spoke as peculiarly as they looked and I knew they were not Indians. Pegasus said something about needing more guns. I must have made some small sound, because one of the men came after me. I believe 'man' is the wrong word, for I have never seen a stranger creature. His orbs were a brilliant purple in color and his pale yellow hair was splayed in every direction. His eyes were colored with black ink that trailed down his cheek and when he grabbed me, his hand was so deathly cold, I cried out.
Pegasus was very angry when he saw me being dragged toward him by the man and he began to reprimand me sharply. For a moment, I almost feared he would strike me, but his anger dulled and he pulled me to himself and held me close.
I do not know what to think of this any more. But I do know I love him more than anyone will ever understand.
Yours,
Cyndia
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April 22, 1775
Crocketts is dead. Two days ago, there was a battle in Lexington. The British came for the ammunition stockpiled there, and they fought. Someone fired their gun, no one knows who it was, but in the confusion that followed, Crocketts and many others died. The colonies and Great Britain are now divided as America cried for Freedom. I fear we will not win this war, and the battle seemed too close to home for comfort.
Of Pegasus there has been no word and above all, I fear he is dead or in the possession of his mysterious companions wounded. I wish he would send some word if he is unhurt. The anxiety is weighing on me. I mourn, but it is not for Crocketts as they think. It is hateful to say, but I am almost relived he is dead.
Yours,
Cyndia
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October 8, 1775
Today is Pegasus's birthday. He is sixteen. Still no word has come of his well being, but last night I saw one of his companions outside. I cannot tell you how much this frightened me, but somehow, it gave me hope as well. I believe Pegasus is alive somewhere with the three men and he works closely with them, fighting for our independence. For now, I am comforted.
Yours,
Cyndia
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January 13, 1776
He is alive! Never in all my life have I experienced such jubilance as when I discovered the letter on my windowsill this morning! Alive! My Pegasus is alive! It's been almost a year and despite the frequent appearance of his friend outside, I was preparing to give up hope entirely. All my joy has been restored now. I'm so excited I can barely hold my pen.
'My dearest Cyndia,' he writes. 'I know this letter has been long in coming and more overdue than I would have liked, but many things have come up over the past nine months I had to attend to. The war has been very trying and all of us here in Charleston establishing the new government only hope it will be over quickly and we find ourselves victorious. There is so much I wish I could tell you, but I cannot in a letter for the Redcoats would find some things far too useful if they were to receive it in your stead. I pray for your safety every day and I cannot wait to see you again in all your beauty and grace. Unfortunately, I cannot come until summer, somewhere around July, I am hoping. Until then, take care. Know that I love you and my thoughts rest only on you. Yours in constant love and devotion, Pegasus J. Crawford'
Diary, my heart is singing! I feel as if I could fly and I know summer cannot come soon enough.
Yours,
Cyndia
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July 4, 1776
We have declared independence from Britain and are now the United States of America. The war is far from over, I believe but the declaration is a large step. Pegasus says Congress thinks the war is going well. In the last six months, I have received only the two other letters, each saying he is in good health and enjoying himself in Charleston. He is working closely with the state delegates and is becoming knowledgeable with the new government they are creating. Always, he declares his love for me. (Au1)
I believe he will come during the end of July. I am sure he is busy now and the journey will take several days. I hope he arrives soon and more importantly safely in Concord.
Yours,
Cyndia
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July 27, 1776
Pegasus arrived today and even my mother and father were delighted to see him alive. He was dressed in a rich suit trimmed with lace. His hair was longer, pulled back with a small bow. His eyes are weary and they hold a sadness they never had before, but they are beautiful still. It is Pegasus, my Pegasus!
How we controlled ourselves during breakfast and lunch I will never know, for with all my heart I wanted to hug him closely and tell him how much I loved him. I think he knew.
Diary, before I continue, I must confess he has acted quite strange at times. His speech is the same, a gentle tone and quick to laugh or joke, but there are moments when he seems entirely too different. His eyes will grow cold, his gaze fixed and it is like he is no longer with us. It is a momentary spell, but it bothers me deeply. Not merely that, but I believe he was reading my thoughts!
We had the afternoon my mother at least gave us that alone, and we went out to the pond outside of the fields. There is a tree there we used to sit in as children, and he and I sat there again.
I told him Crocketts had died in Lexington. He said he knew and it didn't matter now, the dead would bury the dead. It was an awful phrase to my ears and the bleak tone in his voice didn't aid it. It was almost as if he didn't care.
"I don't," he said and another stupor fell on him.
'Don't brood,' I thought. 'Not now, not here. Kiss me if nothing else will keep you with me, Pegasus, but do not brood.'
And out of nowhere he said, "Do you want me to kiss you, Cyndia?" He continued to stare across the water. His tone implied a clarification and I gave none. He kissed me anyway. It was far from the soft and hesitant ones I remembered from our childhood and it frightened me like everything else he has done today.
There was no conversation like in the past. Pegasus was not with me. There was no joy in him, no passion. What has happened to my love? I only wish I knew.
Yours,
Cyndia
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July 29, 1776
I don't know how to put what has happened into words. It is something I would sooner forget, but it will haunt me forever.
No, it was not my Pegasus who came two days ago or left this morning. I did not say goodbye. Fate permitting, I will never say another word to that man so long as I live.
This thingy bubbling in my chest is absolute hatred, the kind so bitter that it can only come from a love once felt. I hate him with all my soul. There are reasons for this, ones I would not explain in detail. But note must be made, for should I bear child or his friends dispose of me, I feel this must be known in some form.
He came to me in the night yesterday and beckoned me forth from the window to walk with him in the moonlight. I have never made a more foolish mistake in my life, but I know my choice came from how desperately I wanted him to be the same Pegasus. He is not.
He asked to make love to me, and my mind screamed against it, but I could not stop it. My limbs moved of their accord and I became small in my mind.
There is no doubt in my conscious that he was the cause of my bizarre placement in those hours. I hate him for it and I never want to see Pegasus Crawford again.
Yours,
Cyndia
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October 16, 1776
The thing I have feared since July has come to pass. From the ill-fated forced union with Pegasus, I have conceived a child.
The news came today when Mother and I had gone to a nearby house for a ladies gathering. I took a fall down the stairs and a doctor was sent for immediately. He informed me after a careful examination I was lucky because a fall like that could have caused a miscarriage. I didn't know how to reply.
Mother and Father are terribly angry. Father will not speak to me and I know that he believes it would be best to disown me. I can only hope Mother can veto this. And I dare not tell them about Pegasus.
Yours,
Cyndia
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November 24, 1776
He has returned. I refuse to see him. I will not have it. Father of my child or not I will never speak to him again.
I fear now what Father must think. I have almost hoped to hear a gunshot, but none has come and it's been hours they've been talking. Father's interests now will be in reclaiming the family's honor. It means he can shoot Pegasus or force me to marry him. If he thinks it will be marriage, I will run far away, where even Pegasus cannot find me. Many circus travelers cross by around this time. Perhaps they will take me in.
I- (A large blot of ink follows)
NO! I refuse. The interruption and ruin of this page was a knock at the door and my mother there. It has been decided. I am betrothed to Pegasus. I will leave home tonight.
Yours,
Cyndia
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December 11, 1776
I again pause to make note of the strange caravan I have taken up with. Many of these people sleep during the day while the few of us who do not, or are instructed not to, tend to the tasks assigned to us. They have told an old handmaid to frequently accompany me for the safety of my unborn child.
The sleeping habits attest to the strange performances they give, things that seem impossible. I almost fear they could sever a limb and instantly reattach it to their body. The shows they give vary greatly, but each is no less grotesque then the one that came before it, but still nightly audiences flock to witness them and throw gold.
If I did not already have the body of a mother (for my child is growing quickly, a daughter I'm certain) I might try and find another troupe. Draga cares for me very well, but I fear even she hides a dark secret.
Yours,
Cyndia
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April 8, 1777
Born today was my sweet daughter. I have called her Trinity. The name Crawford I lay behind it grudgingly, for I will not have my child called a bastard, even if I hate her father.
Our caravan has arranged a great celebration for the birth of my daughter, for she is the first baby they will have with them and we will stay in these woods for many days.
My thoughts turn momentarily to my own mother and I can't help but miss her and wish that she could see her granddaughter. I cannot go home, though, no matter how much I miss her. I must think of Trinity now and a future in which she need not know her conception sired so much more than her golden head and redwood eyes.
Yours,
Cyndia
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(Au2)
July 28, 1777
A year to the deed and who but Pegasus should come wandering into the encampment tonight? He is led by the silver-haired man that was his companion years ago. I followed them silently as I could and this time, he did not come for me. Pegasus looked tattered, worn. No longer the gentleman figure he posed a year ago.
He met with a grand woman I have never seen. She was very beautiful and as they cast him at her feet, her eyes opened to give way to a brilliant blue. Her head tilted slightly as she watched him and her brown hair fell across her face. In all honesty, she resembled a large glass doll!
"Pegasus," she said. "So, you've come back to me."
"No." he spat back. "Not by choice, if that's what you mean."
"No? Why then?"
"My child," he said, looking close to tears. "I must find Cyndia and the child. I have to make certain they are safe."
"You were not content when I gave you the chance to love the woman-"
"Your minions interfered with that. She hates me for it! Our love was not her choice that night and so it was tainted."
A smirk was her reply. "And when you learned of a child, I again allowed you to return. And now, you ask I help you retrieve your angel and darling daughter? When do you come to me, Pegasus, as desperate for me as you are for her? Where is my reward for the aid?"
Pegasus seemed to shudder at the words as did I.
"My death is yours, Anzu," he said. "When all the ends of my life are solved and I see my…did you say daughter?"
She smirked. "Perhaps." And rising from her chair, she settled by his side and began to kiss his neck.
Diary, I felt my heart burn at this! But he flung himself away as suddenly as if he had been bitten. His voice grew angry.
"Away, you demon!" I saw blood trail down his neck. "Kill me swiftly when I surrender, but I will not be your toy in the meantime!"
I am confused. Has he sold his soul to have me once? What more does he have to offer these creatures? I dare not think of it, but I only hope he does not know I am here or was so close to him.
Yours,
Cyndia
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May 13, 1778
Something strange is going on. An excitement has overtaken the camp, but even with this, the secrets seem to continue and something, I know not what, is going to happen. Draga has pulled away from me, always wistfully gazing at a small crimson vile tied to her neck. There are new members in the troupe that perform with the others. Some of them were daylight companions. I begin to question these people.
The strange friends that kept Pegasus's company have been about more often in the night. I have even spied their porcelain queen a time or two. Something terrible is building and I cannot even begin to grasp what it is. The secret that is confided in this camp, I fear, will pass to me soon. If demonic traits are its intentions, I only hope I can get Trinity out of here. My unease is growing.
Yours,
Cyndia
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November 16, 1778
Pieces of the puzzle have been revealed to me in a truly horrible glory. The woman who desires Pegasus is one called Anzu, the doll-like figure that night whom Pegasus defied. She is pale, paler than any normal human being. As are the others, I notice now, the performers whose feats are impossible for humans. These creatures are not humans. I don't know the word for what they are, but it seems to me they are dead but living at the same time. Anzu, when we spoke, sounded far off and strong. It seemed as if time bored her. She sounded ethereal.
I also know the identity of the men that aided Pegasus those years ago. The one who took me captive is called Malik. He comes from Egypt as does Atem. Bakura, they said, does not come from anywhere. He is softer than the other two, less ruthless it seems, but he is always pale, despite the shade of his dark skin, and skinny, almost as if he does not eat. I don't enjoy the plans that touch my mind, but if need be, he could help me escape this place.
I don't know what it is these people want of me. If nothing else, all I want is to raise Trinity somewhere safe. Normal, it seems, is beyond my power to provide now. I almost wish I had not run away from home.
Yours,
Cyndia
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June 12, 1779
Draga has joined the night troupe. Her body, once old and frail, now seems strong and indestructible. She is performing in the shows at points, catching men larger than her by some scale and leaping with them perched on her hands into the air, almost as if they are monstrous birds she keeps as pets. I have not spoken to her, nor has she approached me, but with her change, I suppose this is best for the both of us as well as Trinity.
Diary, I am beginning to fear this place. I don't know what magic suddenly healed Draga of her old age, or young Rook, another here that helped with the birth of Trinity, of his crippled leg and curved back. I don't want to know. I see now that every moment Trinity and I stay here, we come closer to a terrible fate. I can even feel pity stirring in my breast for Pegasus, who no doubt surrendered himself to this mutated life or death by Anzu's hand, for me. No one could deserve this cruel fate.
Yours,
Cyndia
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October 9, 1780
He came to the camp tonight and he became one of them. One of the grotesque figures that is truly something evil mocking the life of a human. It was two years ago I first properly met Anzu, Malik, and the other for what they truly are. They called themselves vampires, as if the word could describe the true horror they are. Even Draga now…
They took Trinity and myself, all so eager to please Anzu, and locked us in a wooden cage. Pegasus forced his way into the group. What a contrast he seemed to the cold, pale creatures there.
"Let them go!" he begged. "I'll give you anything, Anzu, if they but go free!" There were tears in his eyes as the final deal was made. For one moment he held Trinity then touched my hand and gave himself over as they freed us.
It was horrible to see her clamp onto him, satisfied at last. I buried Trinity's eyes and began to run, but there was nothing I could do to stop the screams that penetrated the forest.
Pegasus died for us tonight, saving me from the eternal fate that awaits him, and our daughter from the fire they would have fed her three-year old body to. I weep for it all, most of all that even in this final deed, I could find little love for Pegasus Crawford in my heart. God forgive us both.
Yours,
Cyndia
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March 5, 1781
This will be the final entry, for my life as what I was, with what joy I had with Trinity, is now over.
This ending note leaves me with absolute hatred for Pegasus and the creatures we now are. Trinity is almost four years old and I must leave her now at an orphanage. A vampire is no creature fit to care for a young child. It breaks my heart that I must use these cruel powers to lull her to sleep so that I may leave her there in peace. I do not envy the keep of the orphanage. Trinity has never been separated from me. It will be most unpleasant. She will grow to hate me for abandoning her and there will be nothing for me to do.
I blame Pegasus for this. I don't know how the blood demons found us, but even after his sacrifice for us, they came. Bakura was the first to reach us. He gave warning, because his kind nature would not allow the kill. And I say kill. We were not to be spared now. Atem and Malik followed soon after as I fled with my child, but there was no place for us to hide and soon they overtook our flight.
Pegasus intercepted a blow from Atem that would have shattered my skull and he fought with a strength that was not human. And above all the commotion, Bakura came again, this time whipped into shape, a long shiny burn across his face and shoulders, no doubt punishment for letting us go the first time. He came at me and gripped my throat and by the time Pegasus pulled him off, my blood was spilt and the wound would not stop flowing. Moments later, Bakura went up in flames. I don't know why! It was so sudden and it scorched my body as I lay gasping. Trinity was crying. Atem and Malik had fled.
Then Pegasus came to me. I knew by the sad look in his eye he could not watch me die, but when I asked him to try and save me, I did not ask for the transformation. It felt like his rape all over again. The pain spread further this time, and much, much deeper. It torn apart my entire being. But the nectar he fed to me was sweet; sweeter than anything I had tasted and I burned for it the moment it touched my lips.
This is what I am now, uncontrollable desire and lust. And Trinity cannot be made to bear with it. I love her, though, and I swear that even if I die in the process, I will make Pegasus pay ten fold.
Now, this is goodbye.
Cyndia Crawford
A Crawford, because I am truly his now. His angel, his demon. He took my life and I give him death.
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Tearing my eyes from the precious diary, I threw the blankets from my legs, stepping onto the ground for the first time in days. The diary was clutched tightly in my palms and I felt tears stinging at my eyes.
I peered out the door and the vacant hallway gave me leave as I tiptoed toward the library. Every step filled me with the utmost dread, but I could not stop now. It was a curse. The tale has possessed my mind.
As I stumbled into the study the silver haired man looked up at me, his eyes widening at me.
"Why…" he whispered. "Why have you come back?"
I moved toward the desk, stepping more solidly. Gently I set the diary before him, stepping back cautiously before gazing at the floor with averted eyes. It took all of my will power not to flee from the room and never return. But I had to do this.
"Please, Mr. Crawford," I murmured, the tears spilling down my cheeks as I looked at him. "Tell me what happened to her."
He started back. "You read it?"
"I…I had to," I cried desperately. "Please, Mr. Crawford, please, please tell me. I have to know."
His eyes forestalled suddenly as he bit his lip and I couldn't help my gaze being drawn to his teeth, glittering white in the faint candle light. After a few moments, he gestured to the chair across from him.
"Sit down, Shizuka," he said, sighing as he ran a hand through his hair. "I suppose to begin a tale that has never been told, one must start at the beginning. My name is Pegasus J. Crawford. I was named for my father and born in the year of our Lord 1760 in a British colony in Massachusetts…."
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To Be Continued…
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Au 1: Before I get all the 'WTF! The Continental Congress met in Philadelphia!' from all you history buffs, I KNOW that. But Cyndia doesn't. And perhaps, if it would pop so kindly into your naïve little heads, Pegasus might just be lying.
Au 2: This particular entry bothered me, merely because it is dialogue based, and I'm sure very few people really record things in their diaries like this.
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A/N: Well, I hope you're all terribly happy with that. It took me two months to get done and I still had to add bits for it to make sense. (Falls over dead) Now, I know you all deserved it, but the next chapter won't be out for a while, so please have patience with me. Band camp has started (I love my freshman this year. They're so agreeable.)And I feel damn near dead right now. Next Monday, school will start. My summer officially ended two days ago. At any rate, its very late (1:08 am to be precise) so I risked getting mauled by my mother to finish this for all of you (fourteen pages on my Word processor). Do have to courtesy to review. Until next time.
Lina
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Next Project(s):
The Light of Innocence
Eternal Obsession, an Endless Flight
A Random Act of Kindness
Let's hope something gets done.