Long ago, on an island to the West, back the land was unclaimed by concrete, there existed a plethora of kingdoms. These, however, were hardly "noble" men, as they fought amoungst each other constantly for land, wealth, and glory for themselves. They were strong and they were ruthless, as they made their men march onward to the battlefield, all armed to the teeth. The thunderous sound of the feet of men and the hooves of horses approaching was a horrific sign of foreboding for any village that they happened upon, as it meant that the people there would be pillaged, massacred, or worse in order to feed the troops. Only those at the top of the heap knew why. The lust for power was intoxicating to the men whose ancestors had fought their way to the top, but this was only rivaled by a lust for blood that possessed those who climbed their way to the top and took their power with their own two hands.
This was a glorious time for warlords, but although they were scattered throughout the land, one in particular stood out amoungst the rest. His dominion was ruled with an iron fist and he was ever so eager to expand it. He rode into battle, black mane flowing behind him, with a roar that could shake the heavens. Onward, he rode to create oceans of blood with such savagely brutal force that it bordered on the supernatural. Foes, allies, and everyone else caught in between feared him. Even those that he was meant to rule quaked in their boots whenever he returned as he was not a kind or merciful lord.
Often, he would swing his sword so hard that it would eventually break, and he would force the town blacksmith to craft him another. Once it was done, he would test it on whoever was nearest, regardless of sex or age. Yet, he did have a soft spot for women- especially, the wives of his underlings to the point where it was sometimes uncertain whether or not they were truly the ones who sired their own children. He flaunted his power however he saw fit, constantly defending his position from all who may threaten it. His reign was terrible and it seemed as though no one could defeat him. Truly, he was power incarnate, as if it were dictated by the hand of God himself.
Yet, from the top of the heap, he could not always see what happenings were going on beneath his feet. As he prepared for the birth of his third child, the men beneath him stirred in the shadows. For many nights, beyond the eyes and ears of their lord, they plotted. There was no way to persuade their lord. There was no chance to beg for mercy. Pleading would do nothing, as he would simply tell them to take what they want for themselves. Before long, they settled on doing just that- or rather, having someone else do so. Through the rain and fog, they sent a messenger to the neighbouring kingdom, ruled by a man called "Cathrain."
Cathrain was a powerful man as well. He had to be in order to live so close to the fearsome chieftain nearby and defend his home and his people. Patiently, he sat, his hand rubbing his blond beard as he listened to the messenger convey their story.
"Madness." Cathain said with a wave of his hand and a shake of his head. "Pure madness. You wish for me to go into the belly of the beast in order to kill one man? What for should I sacrifice my time, my resources, and my own? It is too dangerous. Should I succeed, I will take his lands, but should I fail? Then we will not have enough men to protect our own when he comes to seek revenge."
"Fear not, my lord, for the nobles will not fight you, nor will their men." spoke the messenger with a bowed head. "They will drop their arms and stand aside, as you rescue us from our captor."
"What guarantee do you have of this? Am I simply meant to believe that this is not just some farce concocted by the lord himself?"
"His lordship is planning on taking his eldest on a hunting trip in the forests to the north. He will only be accompanied by a small band of noblemen. You may observe it for yourself if you wish. Should you chose to strike, the nobles will not fight you. If they do, they are traitors to the cause. His lands and properties will be yours and never again shall any of us worry of Abhartach."
Cathrain narrowed his eyes and pondered this, believing it to be a most opportune situation. "Very well." he said, leaning back in his chair. "I will slay him."
"Thank you, my lord. You have our most deepest gratitude."
The day was a bright one. Light shined through the clouds, warming the air as swatches of it lazily strolled across the green grass. It went undisturbed until horses walked across the field to the forest. On top of the one in front sat a sturdy man with messy, long, black, hair and a scruffy beard to match. The many scars on his knuckles were visible as he gripped the reigns as he looked forward, steadfast. There was a moment, however, where he looked away. Instead, he looked at the person riding alongside him and smiled proudly.
.
He was a young lad of only fourteen years of age. His stature was significantly smaller than his father and he lacked the brawn, but he was obviously Abhartach's with his black hair pulled back and into a small tuft of a ponytail and his eyes a bright green. The boy stared forward as they continued to ride and did not notice his father looking at him until the man spoke.
"So, what will you be tracking?" questioned Abhartach, breaking the silence.
"I'm not sure." his son replied. "A deer or a boar would be good. I'm not sure if we'll see one, though."
"That is why you must track it. Be certain. Do not waiver." the man stated, in a scolding tone. When he saw his son's face change, however, he softened his tune a bit. "You are the one who will inherit everything I have once I am gone. You need to have the conviction in order to protect it so that you may pass it on to your son. That is why you must be decisive."
"But what if I pick wrong?"
"Then you will make adjustments and follow through with them. Either way, choices must be made. If there is an option that you believe is best, then you should speak it with confidence and so that your men will hear you and feel compelled to follow your command. Now, what will you be tracking?"
The boy paused to think for a moment and then looked over at the man with a smile. "A boar."
"Lead the way, then." Abhartach instructed, pointing with his chin. With a wide grin, the boy flicked the reigns and rode faster, laughing the whole way. Smiling at the lad's whimsy, Abhartach did the same.
They rode until they got further into the forest, where they slowed things down to a crawl. "Eoghan!" Abhartach called, prompting the boy to come over.
"Yes, father?"
"You missed this." the man said, indicating to a hoofprint on the ground.
"Oh!" With that, the lad dismounted and began to look at the ground more carefully. "I'll go find more!" he declared before heading out further into the forest with is bow. Abhartach got down off of his horse as well and handed the reigns to one of the members of the party before following after him.
As he did, however, he noticed something unusual. There were a number of horse tracks, but there appeared to be too many for just the horses they brought. Still, it could very well be his imagination, so he pressed onward, instead. Always onward.
Eventually, he came up to his son, who was crouching behind some bushes and staring intently forward. Carefully, Abhartach joined him as not to make a lot of sound. As he looked ahead, he saw what his Eoghan was staring at so intently. It was a boar and a big one, too.
"Well done." whispered Abhartach, keeping his voice low. "You know what to do."
Taking an arrow out of his quiver, the lad lined up his shot, waiting patiently until everything was perfect. His father, however, tapped on his elbow in order to adjust his posture. Once that was done, the lad steadied his breathing and let go. The animal let out a mighty cry as the arrow pierced its hide, causing it to run.
"You missed its vitals."
"Yes, but it's injured." Eoghan stated, jumping over the bush in order to give chase.
"Careful! It will charge if you back it into a corner!"
"I will kill it before it does!" the boy declared despite his father's warning, prompting the man to give chase, himself.
Obviously, the lad had much more to learn as he stampeded after the creature, giving it only further incentive to run. He followed the trail of blood it left behind and counted on it growing tired. Both ran and ran and ran until finally, Eoghan saw it again in a clearing. Eoghan smiled and raised his bow, but noticed something peculiar about the animal. Instantly, his jovial expression faded and he lowered his weapon in order to get a better look.
Eoghan shot the animal once and his arrow was still firmly embedded in its backside. He could see it, but he could also see two more arrows that did not belong to him. With his weapon ready, he slowly walked closer toward it in order to get a better look.
"Father?" the lad whispered in a concerned tone, only to turn around when he heard the sound of hooves behind him. Towering above him, glaring downward was a man with blond hair and a beard to match. His robes were elaborate, fit for someone of high rank, but Eoghan did not recognise him.
"I did not expect an infant." the man said as a few more men came out of the woodwork, some on horses, and some on foot. "How could Abhartach ever sire something so small? Is it even male?"
Baring his teeth, Eoghan raised his bow in order to fire at the man, only to be grabbed by the back collar of his shirt and hoisted up into the air. He wound up being tucked away safely under the arm of an even larger man, who only laughed as he flailed. "How adorable..." the second man said. "It thinks itself a bigger beast!"
"Let me go!" Eoghan growled. "Father!"
"We will use him as bait for the real beast." the first man said. "His property has been taken from him. If he flees, he will have proven himself the lesser man."
Sure enough, the group heard footsteps rustling from the direction that the boy came from. Lo and behold, it was Abhartach, wearing an astonished face as he panted from running. His eyes darted from one face to the next, pausing on the face of the blond man, before turning his gaze to his son.
"Father!" the boy called out. "It's a trap."
"So it is..." Abhartach replied with a snarl. Hand on his sword, he unsheathed the massive blade as he knew that this day would not end without him getting blood on it. "Fear not, Eoghan. Your father will save you. Then, we will feast on wild boar!"
"My fellow chieftain, do you really expect to vanquish all of us on your own?" questioned the first man.
"I do not merely 'expect,' Cathrain, I will!" taking a powerful stance, he then lunged at the nearest horse and swung his blade. In one fell swoop, he lopped off one of its legs and sent both it and the rider hurdling toward the ground.
"Kill him!" Cathrain ordered, prompting his men to draw their own weapons. With much reluctance, they did, although some were more hesitant than others. They knew of the might that was Abhartach and were not at all keen to get close.
The first man who ran to meet Abhartach raised his sword high above his head, only to find the tip of Abhartach's blade embedded deep into his neck. With a swing, the other man threw him to the side and moved on to the next, ducking under the swing of another sword before slicing open the belly of its owner.
"Bastard!" shouted a voice from behind him, prompting him to leap out of the way. An arrow landed where his feet were previously, prompting Abhartach to grab the nearest man and use him as a shield. Several more arrows landed in the chest of his foe as he shoved him forward, advancing on the archer on horseback. Once he was close, he threw the body away and jumped into the air, extending his blade forward as the next arrow fired into his shoulder. He stabbed the archer in they eye and kicked him off of his own horse before taking it for himself.
"Enough. Let's go!" Cathrain said, flicking his wrists and riding away, followed by the remainder of his men on horseback. That, however, included Eoghan.
"Father!" the boy shouted as his parent broke off the end of the arrow protruding from his shoulder.
"Eoghan!" Abhartach boomed before following after the group. He didn't know what he was going to do when he caught them, but he knew that it wasn't going to be good. He worked the poor horse at top speed, leaping over logs and ignoring undergrowth in favour of keeping his eyes trained on his son and the men carrying him.
But Eoghan, would not cooperate with his captors. He continued to writhe and wriggle in an effort to escape the grasp of the large man restraining him, to no avail. Reaching behind him, he pulled an arrow out of his quiver, spilling the remainder out onto the ground behind them, only to stab into the legs of the horse his father was riding. Abhartach leapt off before the horse fell, slamming into the dirt. He could taste it as he dropped his sword for just a moment, but then picked the weapon right back up as he stood and continued to pursue on foot.
"Hah!" the man carrying Eoghan guffawed at the sight. He took great pleasure in distressing the mighty Abhartach and rode on.
Yet, in that moment, when he realised that his father was not going to catch up with them, the boy knew that his fate rested in his own hands. He recalled stories his father told him where he had been captured and subjected to all manner of torment, and knew that if he were ever successfully kidnapped, the same may befall him as well. Thus, with the arrow in his clenched fist, he swung his arm and brought it down upon his captor, stabbing him deeply in the back. It broke off inside his captor as the man screamed in pain, dropping Eoghan in the process.
"Shit!" the man hissed through clenched teeth, stopping his horse at once and turning it to face where the lad fell. Only, when he looked, he didn't see Eoghan's back as he ran away. Instead, he saw the boy laying still on the ground. His head was resting on a large rock.
"My lord!" bellowed the man, calling for his master's attention. At once, he had it, and the chieftain himself was soon to follow.
Slowly, Cathrain joined him, sitting alongside him on his own horse. "What have you done?" he asked, staring straight at the boy without moving. "What are you doing?! Go check him!"
"Y-yes, sir!" his accomplice replied, hurriedly getting down from off of his horse. The large, lumbering, man made his way to the young son of Abhartach and peered over him. Turning around, he shared a worried look with his chief, only for his superior to then look past him with a worried face.
"Look out!" shouted Cathrain, but just as the underling turned his head, it was severed from his shoulders in one, pristine, swing.
Abhartach roared as a rain of blood hit his face, snarling and baring his teeth like a wild animal. Once his opponent fell, his attention was elsewhere. Specifically, it was on the well-being of his child.
"Eoghan!" he called out, looking down at the boy. At first, he simply thought that his son had fainted or being knocked unconscious, but then, the truth dawned on him. In an instant, the fury that drove him have vanished and his warrior's eyes grew wet. "Eoghan?"
The rock had been dyed red by a large stream of blood. I was fully coated in it, before it spilled out onto the forest floor. He didn't look asleep. He looked awake. Eoghan's eyes were open and glassy, staring straight ahead at nothing. They saw nothing.
"Eoghan..." Abhartach called out, dropping to his knees. Hesitantly, he reached out to gently- with an almost childlike sense of curiosity- touch his son's face, but the boy did not react.
The mighty Abhartach, who plagued both his own domain and the domains of his neigbours, who killed without the slightest hesitation and who was the very essence of power incarnate, found his lip quivering. Quietly, he placed his hand underneath the boy's head and felt the fresh wound as he scooped Eoghan up into his lap and cradled him tenderly like a baby.
"My son!" he cried out. "My boy!"
Sniffling, the man placed a firm kiss to the lad's forehead, before pressing his own against it. The boy was completely limp in his arms as he rocked him back and forth, as if to comfort him. It was like Abhartach was still trying to protect him, but it wouldn't do either of them any good.
"How long?" questioned Cathrain in astonishment. "How long has a monster such as you been able to produce tears?"
The sound of the blond chieftain's voice grated against Abhartach's ears. It caused him to freeze and grind his teeth. "You..." Abhartach growled, holding his child close to his chest. "You did this..."
"I did not wish for it." the other chief replied. "I only wanted you. The boy was in the way."
Slowly, Abhartach placed his son back on the ground. He placed him in such a way that he was laying on his back with his hands placed one over the other on his stomach. The tyrant even closed the lad's eyelids before removing his own tunic and placing it gently over the body, covering Eoghan's face.
Then, he began to rise, picking up the sword next to him and holding it firmly in his fist. Cathrain froze where he stood, but not before placing a shaky hand on his sword. Swallowing hard, he watched as Abhartach faced him, his eyes aflame and his face resembling that of a demon.
"YOU. KILLED. MY. SON!"
He roared a thunderous roar that came from the depths of hell itself. He was so far away, but he closed the gap between them in a matter of seconds. His nemesis drew his blade in order to block him, but when Abhartach clashed their swords, the shock sent tremors through Cathrain's arms. Running on adrenaline, the blond one took a fighting stance.
"It is your own doing!" he shouted back, swinging his own weapon. "If you were kinder to your people, if you did not terrorise all that you came in contact with, none of this would have occurred!"
The monster could not hear him as he continued to wage his assault. He was erratic, swinging indiscriminately at the vague outline of his enemy rather than using his head. Instead, Abhartach thought with only his sorrowful rage and could see nothing else. It was impulsive as it was foolish, causing him to be slashed more than once by his exceptionally skilled opponent. Worse still, it would be his own downfall, as he could see nothing else through his tunnel vision. He did not hear or see the men at his back, nor did he notice the archers until several arrows were in his back.
The pain seemed to wake him up slightly as it seemed to be the only thing that could stop him. Two more arrows hit him, causing him to groan and drop down to one knee. Panting, his mind began to race as he tried to think of what to do. He couldn't think, though. Everything was clouded by pain. So much pain…
Slowly, he forced himself to look over his shoulder, only to see his own men with their bows raised. They stared back at him with defiant expressions. Now, they were confident and felt free to rebel, now that he was incapacitated.
"Traitors..." he growled. "I swear, I swear on the graves of my son and myself, that I will come for your blood..."
While he cursed them and the other chieftain, Cathrain raised his weapon and brought it back down upon Abhartach. Moments later, the tyrant fell. He did not get up.
"Do what you will, monster." Cathrain said as he stood over him. "The righteous will prevail every time you do."
With that, Abhartach's nobles became Cathrain's, and so did his domain. They bowed to him and he promised to never treat them as Abhartach did. The village in which the old chieftain lived rejoiced at the news, but his wife and his remaining children were not so lucky. She was imprisoned and died as a result of complications during birth, most likely due to the conditions. The remaining child of Abhartach was sent away to live a life of ignorance to their lineage with a family of peasants.
As for Abhartach, himself, he was buried along with Eoghan. Abhartach was buried standing straight up, as per custom for the chief. Yet, that was not the end of the story. Three nights later, a hand broke its way through the dirt, clawing at it until it dragged up the arms with it. Then came the rest of Abhartach as he hoisted himself up, swallowing as much air as possible. Dirt mixed with sweat clung to him for dear life, so much so that he could taste it. A disheveled mess, was he, but the most noticable difference about it all was his eyes- bright green irises with black where there should be white.
Once he was out, he laid down before rolling over onto his back to catch his breath. The world felt fuzzy and new. It took a while for his mind to catch up with him, as he naturally hadn't the foggiest idea as to what was happening. He had been buried alive, as far as he could tell. The strangeness of the situation forced him to retrace his steps, but when he did, his confusion and disorientation faded and was replaced by seething hot fury.
"Blood..." he recalled, speaking aloud in a voice that seemed in human. "I will have your blood..."
Shakily, he forced himself to his feet and began walking toward the village. It was the dead of night and the sky was as black as pitch. Only occasionally, would the clouds part for just long enough for the moon to pierce through the darkness and light Abhartach's way. He knew his village when he came across it, however. He knew every nook and cranny. He especially knew where the blacksmith was, and was determined to get his hands on a sword. The wooden door to the shed which housed the weapons gave way with one swift kick and soon, the road was crunching beneath his feet again as he dragged the tip of a blade along it on his way to his enemy's homes.
He arrived at the first's and kicked in the heavy door, startling everyone inside. Instantly, he was recognised by a servant girl, who then screamed. If the door didn't wake the rest of the house, her screaming definitely did, as she screamed at the top of her lungs until Abhartach plunged the weapon into her chest. Anyone else who he came upon suffered the same fate. The master of the house, however, was not so lucky, as the others in the village would find him with several stab wounds to his chest and stomach.
The commotion awoke the neighbours, who in turn woke their neighbours, and soon, it was clear that something was very wrong. A small crowd gathered outside as they waited for someone with authority to arrive. They whispered amoung themselves as silence befell the house. It seemed to last a long time until a figure appeared in the doorway. At first, they weren't sure what to make of it, but then, it threw something at the crowd. It bounced on the ground once before eventually rolling to a stop. The eyes inside of the noble's head as it stared at the group were just as glassy and lifeless as Eoghan's were. Suddenly, there was screaming.
"I warned you..." Abhartach said. "I warned you that I would come for blood… But you did not listen! Traitors! All of you! You deserve what comes next!"
People ran from him as he slaughtered them and caused their homes to burn. Some people tried to fight him, emboldened by their success from before, but Abhartach would not go down again so easily. Every wound they inflicted healed closed right before their very eyes. His face was dyed red from their blood and his black mane was matted with the substance. Truly, he was a monster in every sense of the word.
Soon, however, Cathrain returned to slay him once more and was horrified by the sight. He did not assist right away. Instead, he waited until the monster was distracted by his harvest, splitting the skulls of his enemies open and spilling the contents. Cathain came up from behind Abhartach and swung at him, slicing off his head. His body fell to the ground motionless, and he was reburied that night. This time, he was buried upside down.
It took him a fortnight to dig himself back out again. The destruction he wrought was astronomical. He was a tyrant before, yes, but this? This was unheard of, even for him. Abhartach was even worse than he was before, only vanishing before the sun rose in order to rest. Now, only Cathrain was left of the nobles in this region and knowing that Abhartach would return the next night, he knew he needed a plan, so, he consulted a druid for advice in regards to supernatural affairs. He just so happened to know of one and with great haste, he spoke to them, asking for advice.
"Indeed, you are on the right track, my lord. Burying him upside down is a good start, but he will not stay put if that is all one does." he was told. "First, you must fashion a sword out of yew wood and pierce his heart. Then, you must cover his grave with a large stone so that he may not escape."
The stone was easy to find, but the sword was tricky. Cathrain hadn't the slightest idea how one would fashion a sword from yew wood, so all he wound up doing was fashioning a branch into a sharp point. The next time they fought, Cathrain would pierce Abhartach's heart with it.
Cathrain was a skilled warrior who took no chances. This is why his land lasted for so long while next to Abhartach's. Because he acted quickly, his people were able to avoid a third catastrophe and Abhartach was forced into a deep sleep. The stone that covers his grave remains in what is now the town of Derry to this day. Thus, the so-called "Vampire of Derry" was defeated.
And yet he still persists…
Time passed as he healed himself, eventually turning into years as he continued to sleep. The reign of Cathrain came and went, as did the reign of his son, and his son's son. Five hundred years passed before he awoke again. He awoke to the pitch blackness and the soil in his eyes, nose, mouth, and ears. He awoke to the claustrophobia of being buried alive and desperately needed to get out. The ground was a lot harder than it was before. It took month of constant digging and writhing to get himself upright, and then there was the time it took for him to dig around the stone blocking his path. Once he broke through the earth's surface, he was born again. This time, into a world he hated more than the last.
Everything was gone. His rival and his reason for refusing to die was gone. There was nothing left for him, here. He cried out to the heavens, as there was no one left who could understand him. The language had evolved and he did not know the tongues in which other people were speaking. The era of scattered chieftains had long since ended and was replaced with a high king who fought off vikings. He hated it. He hated all of it. For the very first time, he wanted to die, but try as he might, it was all for naught. He could not force himself to sleep for long enough to soothe him.
Every time he got around to learning a new language, it seemed, it changed again. Eventually, he began to catch up and to educate himself about this new and strange world that was constantly changing. He began a new quest to learn everything this world had to offer, and came across sights that few men had witnessed and lived to tell about. Other supernatural beings scattered his journeys, occasionally accompanying him and teaching him things.
Yet, he still felt unfulfilled. He yearned for the days when he could wage war, and the battlefield was still one of his favourite places to be. After all, he could not die, so there was no harm, to him. Abhartach also missed the power and glory that came with it. Each time a throne changed hands, he had some critique on the new king.
Hundreds of years passed and during this time, he noticed a trend that concerned him. The nobles were growing weaker with each passing year. No longer could they wage war if they needed to. No longer, could they defend their lands, or even themselves. Truly, it was a pathetic sight. By the time the 2000s came around, Abhartach was sophisticated and had accumulated wealth that rivaled, or perhaps even dwarfed some of those insolent husks of noblemen. By this time, things had hit an all-time low.
The money was running out for a lot of families, and they had long since forgotten how to fight. If Abhartach so much as coughed in their direction, it appeared to him that they may shatter like glass. And yet, they were still so proud- undeservedly so, in Abhartach's eyes. Thus, it was time to end this farce. There would be no more false nobles. Instead, one would have to prove one's might by fighting and defending. Should one be granted the grace of God, they would succeed! That is divine right!
One cannot expect the universe to bend to one's will simply by asking. One cannot expect that power will always be there's or that they are shielded from harm by the divine graces of God himself, simply because one wishes it. Asking will not help and taking one's protection for granted may have it be taken away, just as easily. One does not inherently deserve power because that is not what "power" is. No, one must instead act oneself, and force everyone to kneel. That is power! Blood is only sacred if it is that of champions- those who pray by fighting! Only those who come out on top are worthy of ruling because they have been chosen! If one proves themselves by fighting with all they have, then they may be granted the right to rule. If those who come after cannot defend their position, then they are not meant to have power. One cannot always expect the power to be there simply because "it has always been there."
That is why Abhartach must seize power. In order to put things back into their rightful order, the old ways must be restored. He has waited long enough! It has been one thousand years since he last awoke from his grave and the time was now! Glory to King Abhartach!
It was so close, that the revenant could taste it. He could see the end where all of this comes into fruition. Everything was coming together and falling into place. So what if he lost Claire and Feargus? It was but a minor set back. He gained more troops than he lost from that misstep.
Still, there was one loss that did hurt him. No matter how hard he tried to distance himself from his children, there was still an ache that persisted whenever Abhartach thought of Philip. Even as he was on the cusp of victory, he couldn't help but wonder: "Why?"
Why would his own son, his very own flesh and blood, betray him like this? Of everyone who was supposed to never betray him, it should have been his own children. There he was, however, mourning the loss of yet another child. There was a tendency for that to happen, given the fact that his children were mortal. That said, none of them had ever betrayed him before. It stung. Abhartach hated it.
Now all that was left was Evangeline until he took another wife. He had hoped that Sasha Pomeroy would come around, but so far, she had been defiant at every turn. There were even more important things to worry about, though, so that is what he did instead. He could focus on Pomeroy after he had the throne. Until then, there was much to do, as well as other mindless frivolities to participate in.
The Lexington estate was decorated for Christmas, a holiday that Abhartach could never understand, but it seemed important to the younger folks, so he put up with it to the best of his ability. Even Evangeline, who had only gotten to celebrate a handful of times in her life, felt festive. Really, what choice did he have but to allow her to participate with the others? He even got her a gift, but she was the only one whom he got anything, which seemed to annoy Sir Lexington, somewhat. That meant that he only got a gift from his staff, which miffed him a bit. Then, there was the matter of Sasha.
Now, Abhartach got Sasha Pomeroy a gift as well, yet she remained stubborn and would not have it. She continued to sulk on her own, just as she had for months. The little progress that was made when Philip was still there had vanished and she was back to not speaking to anyone except the maids and Abhartach when necessary. Abhartach, however, was not content with this.
"Not even the joy of Christmas cheer can bring a smile to your face, I see." the man observed as she continued to look out the window. "Tell me, is there truly nothing that can?"
"No." Sasha replied. "There isn't. Stop asking."
"I am trying to make your time here more bearable. Is there nothing that will set you at ease?"
"No, especially not you. Talking to the guy who's going to force me to marry him isn't going to help."
Shaking his head, the man sighed. "Miss Pomeroy, surely you can see how this will benefit you in the long run..." he said. "You will be the Queen of Britain and whatever other land we conquer after this. Surely, you can see how beneficial such a position will be."
"I don't care." Sasha replied. "It doesn't matter. I'll still be stuck married to someone I don't love and be surrounded by people I don't trust. Who would want to live like that on purpose?"
Taking a few steps forward, he joined her at the window and looked outside, trying to peer out at whatever it was she was staring so intently at. She was not going to see reason, so there was a need for there to be a different approach.
"You are very wise." he nodded. "With a life like that, you might as well be bound by chains. I do not wish for you to feel this way. That is why I very much would like you to smile. You're a remarkably brave girl up against a sea of troubles. Even then, you bear it with your head held high. It's admirable. That is part of what makes you so valuable."
Finally, Sasha looked at him, moving her eyes but not her head. She was cautious, but not completely unwilling to hear more. Still, she needed to maintain the upper hand.
"You're not going to win me over." she said. "I don't feel like anything you're trying to sell me."
"Understandable." Abhartach said. "You've endured a lot over the past few months. You're stuck with strange people in a strange place… And you're still in mourning… Christmas must be especially hard, yet you are somehow without tears?"
"I've never had Christmas without my dad before..." the girl said without thinking. Immediately, she caught herself and folded her arms. "Not that you would care."
"On the contrary," the man answered. "It isn't too difficult to relate. My son is out there, somewhere, instead of here with his family. I have no idea what has happened to him or if he is even alive right now. He is not the first of my kin that I have lost, either, and he will most likely not be the last."
Sasha continued to look at him while she thought that Abhartach wouldn't notice, but he did. "We endure." he continued, nodding. "We grow stronger, but we do not forget. In time, this pain with have it's place."
"So it won't go away?"
"No, it will just become part of you. It will fade into the background as one moves on, but you never truly forget the people that you love. You carry them with you in your memories. That is where the people who are important to us live on."
"It's hard to even think about doing anything else." the girl said. "I miss him… I want to go home and have him just be there… That's all I can think about…" As she continued to speak, her eyes grew wet. "My life is ruined..."
"Oh, sweetheart..." Abhartach cooed, his voice and his expression sympathetic. "Your life isn't ruined… You just need time to grieve, properly. You can't do that with a stoic look on your face. Don't smile, if it isn't genuine. If you need to cry, you will receive no shame, here."
To that, the girl gave no answer. All she did was look back out the window and stare, doing her best to hide her face from Abhartach's view. Naturally, the man took that as his cue to leave, but not without patting her on the shoulder as he went. She didn't even shrug him off. She stood still and unresponsive. Abhartach, however, took that as a good sign and smiled once his back was to her. After all, that was the first time that she had let him touch her. If he had things his way, however, it wouldn't be the last.
All in all, however, the gathering of the Philosophers for Christmas was "ordinary." Certainly, it wasn't the most "ordinary" of gatherings, as hardly any of them were family in the traditional sense, if at all, but there was a strange sense of normalcy that permeated the atmosphere surrounding the Lexington estate. It was calm and it was quiet. That could hardly be said about the Phantomhive household on Christmas morning.
The family sat down around the Christmas tree just like any other family, but here there be demons. The Sir and Mister Phantomhive were sitting close together, but that wasn't strange. They had been almost inseparable since they talked things out a bit, and continued to talk and rekindle the relationship that had been put on pause due to work. Even worse, they were wearing matching jumpers, much to Revy's embarrassment, but the Macken soon got over it, as there were presents to open.
One thing Alois did feel a bit bad about, however, was the fact that he hadn't been able to do a lot of Christmas shopping while he was working, leaving the majority of it up to Ciel. He had no idea what kind of results it would yield, but he would soon find out. Some of the results were some that Alois didn't really know he approved of.
"Whoa!" Luka gasped after just having torn the paper off of his gift. "A shotgun!"
Alois raised his brows and looked to his husband, furrowing them. "Ciel..."
"The mansion gets attacked sometimes. It's best that he has a weapon of his own that he becomes familiar with." the Watchdog explained before turning his attention to the teenager. "Luka, that's not a toy. It's a very dangerous weapon that should only be used to defend yourself and hunt with. Don't get too comfortable with the idea. It belongs in the armoury until then or when you're taking it out to practise with and you will only practise with supervision. Understand."
"Okay!" Luka replied, still immensely enthused, regardless. "I'm not gonna play with it."
As much as none of them wanted the boy to be a warrior, they knew that it could be useful for him to at least have some skill. Luka himself didn't want to fight, but knew from watching his brother and his brother's husband that is was a possibility. Still, it was exciting to receive his first weapon. He could even use it for hunting, if he wanted, which was a much more exciting prospect.
As for Revy, he had a rather exciting find as well. He didn't really know what to expect either and judging from Luka's find, it could go in any direction. When digging through his haul, he found a small box. Staring at it for a moment, he looked up and asked the bluenette. "It's not a bomb, is it?"
"I dunno. I might've got yours and Dafydd's gifts mixed up." Ciel jested, prompting his beau to shake his head.
Blinking, Revy undid the ribbon and carefully undid the ribbon. Opening the box, the young man's eyes widened and he raised his brows. Hurriedly, he reached into the box and pulled out the contents in order to hold them up to his view. "Keys?"
"When you move out, you should really have your own car." the bluenette informed. "It's out in the garage if you want to go see it."
Without another word, Revy was on his feet and running toward the door, completely abandoning the rest of his gifts in search of the holy grail. His younger brother came running after him, curious to see the prize as well. Fortunately, he left the gun on the floor instead of bringing it with him. With that, the butler bent down and picked it up before straightening his back again.
"I will put this away." Sebastian said before doing just as he said. That just left the Phantomhives and Finnian behind.
Finnian, for the most part, got things that he might need. There was furniture for his quarters as well as clothes. Ciel even purchased him some casual clothes, with some help. He had to recruit Elizabeth, however, as the Watchdog doesn't know anything about casual fashion. Out of everyone, while he didn't get the single most expensive gift, Finnian certainly got the most in quantity.
"Master..." the blonde began, his eyes watery as he looked up at his employer, genuinely touched at how much thought the man put into this.
"I felt like it might be nice if you had more than just a sunhat this time." the bluenette said. "You will eventually need some things if you're going to be staying here, so this was the perfect opportunity to take care of it in one fell swoop."
"In other words: He wanted to make sure you feel welcome and are well taken care off, Finny." Alois translated, prompting Ciel to nod.
"Yes. That's what I said."
"Oh, master!" Finnian declared. "Thank you! I only wish that I could somehow repay you!"
"You already have." the bluenette stated. "You being here is enough."
Ciel and Finnian had spent a lot of time together over the past few weeks. It was refreshing for both of them, as things had finally been cleared up after over a hundred years of being ambiguous. It was the ambiguity that had hurt so much. They had talked about what they had been doing during that time and filling each other in on things that had been happening recently. Finnian fully understood why Alois wasn't at the mansion for a while. In fact, it seemed like exactly the sort of thing a spouse of Ciel's would do. Partly, he sort of wondered if Alois might be jealous at the time the had been spending together, despite Finnian not sharing their "interests," but Alois didn't mind it in the slightest. In fact, he was glad that his husband had friends, since it was sort of difficult for him to make them with ease.
"Are you not going to open yours, Jim?" Finnian finally asked the menace.
"Oh! I was watching everybody else opening theirs!" the Lion said, before finally getting into his own haul. Opening up one of the boxes, he was greeted by clothes, all folded neatly in a stack. Taking out one of the shirts, he asked: "Is this a gay pride shirt with the Babadook on it?"
"Happy Christmas, darling." the bluenette grinned.
"Aw, babe~! Wait- did you replace all of my pride shirts?"
"I actually got you a few more than what you already had. I counted all of your bisexual shirts to make sure. Now it won't feel like false advertising. I tried to get some that were tasteful and I was also careful to make sure there were no shirts in there that were just corporate sponsorship. Except Funtom. That one's custom."
"These are really good! I didn't know you knew this many memes, actually..."
"I live with you."
"Good point." Alois grinned before turning his head and kissing his husband's cheek. "Thanks, honey. These are great!"
With a wide grin, the menace went through every article of clothing in the box, seemingly forgetting that he had several other packages waiting to be opened. In addition to T-shirts, Alois also received one or two with long sleeves. In another box, there were satanic jumpers, which he was immensely pleased with and eager to wear. He was having fun and smiling again and that was all that mattered. Even if some days would be hard, he would always have moments where everything it just fine.
He still had his worries. He wanted to check on Gehenna at least once, but there were already people down there who would inform him if there was anything amiss. He had made sure of it before he set the day aside. After all, he promised, and when he made a promise nowadays, he did his best to make good on it. He was happy to spend time with his family again. Somehow, it felt like ages since he had done so.
It felt great to reconnect with his husband again. While he didn't realise it until a few days ago, Alois really did need to feel loved during this hard time. It wouldn't cure him, but it certainly helped. The spark had returned and it was a good distraction when he needed it. Hugging, kissing, and even just talking about nothing was back in Alois' life and he wanted it to stay that way.
Presents were unwrapped, family was called and wished a happy Christmas, and dinner was had. The whole time, those at the Phantomhive estate were merry and did their best to escape the worries that tomorrow would bring. For now, it was time to rest and be free from worry. Yet, the menace couldn't help but worry a bit. Occasionally, throughout the day, he would think about what must be happening in Gehenna at that very moment. Were there enough rations to go around? Were people cold? How were repairs going? Although the damage was minimal and the electricity was back on, but everything seemed to be much worse in his head. It would always hit him in moments of quiet or when he was alone. His mind had room for such thoughts, then.
Standing there in the kitchen, he was pouring two mugs of hot chocolate while he pondered the things he would have to do the next day when he was pulled from his thoughts suddenly and abruptly as he accidentally filled the mug until it spilled over. He caught his mistake quickly, uttering a small "shit!" while hurrying to find a paper towel to mop the mess up with. Now, he just had the mug that was filled to the brim, daring him to try and do something about it. It threatened to spill over again as soon as he touched the handle, so what choice was he left with but to somehow remove the contents without moving it? Bending over, he set his hands on the counter and placed his lips to the mug before trying to slurp up the excess.
It was quite the sight when his husband came to find him. Resting his palm on the doorframe with an amused expression, Ciel found himself torn between wanting to chuckle at his husband and wanting to admire the view. In the end, he did both.
"Fuck off, I'm trying to not spill this shit again." Alois answered to the sound. Having emptied the vessel enough to pick it up, the blonde drank some of the contents until it was at save levels before putting it back down and looking over his shoulder.
"I didn't say anything." Ciel casually swaggering up to the menace until he was standing behind him. Looking over Alois' shoulder, the Watchdog placed one hand on the counter and the other on the other man's hip, giving it a little squeeze.
The blonde turned his head, opening his mouth to speak, but hesitated and instinctively flickered his eyes down toward his husband's lips as he realised how close their faces were. "Did you want marshmallows in yours?" he inquired.
"Yes." nodded the other Phantomhive before tilting his head. He flashed his teeth in a grin noticed the blonde linger for a moment before turning away to complete the task.
"Forgive me if I'm mistaken," the blonde began as he opened the bag, "but I'm sort of getting the impression that you're trying to put some moves on me?"
"Oh? Whatever gave you that idea?"
"You're laying on the charm really thick and you've got quite the grip on my hip, there."
"You mean like this?" Ciel asked as he began to knead his fingertips into the menace, but Alois only shook his head with a smile.
"You're up to no good at all..."
"Not true. I just wish to be affectionate with the man that I love." informed the bluenette before taking his hand away and putting it on the counter next to Alois, effectively embracing the other man without touching him. "Is that not good?"
Nudging the mugs away a bit, Alois turned around, resting his lower back against the edge of the counter. "No," he said, reaching up to cup the other demon's face, "It's very good."
Tilting his head, he pulled the other man closer and kissed him. In turn, Ciel kissed Alois back, causing the menace to sigh through his nose. Both of them had missed this. The warm, fuzzy feeling they had when they felt close to one another had returned to them, perhaps with a new invigoration. They loved each other and felt loved by one another, as these were not hungry kisses, but those fueled by fondness and adoration. Even as Ciel pulled the blonde closer, putting his hands on his back so that the edge of the counter did cease digging into his flesh and feeling the indent that was left in Alois' skin through his shirt, what Ciel wanted to convey to him was that he loved him. It was plain and simple. Whatever excitement was stirred during the exchange of feelings was merely a pleasant bonus.
"Mmm..." hummed the Watchdog against his beau's lips before pulling away. Both of them were starry-eyed with their lids drooping. "You taste like chocolate."
"Well… We do have some hot chocolate waiting for us." answered the blonde before kissing the corner of his husband's mouth. "Think it can wait?"
"Well..." the bluenette began, mimicing the other's tone before looking over Alois' shoulder at the two mugs. "The marshmallows are pretty melted, now."
"Huh? Is it even hot anymore?"
Removing a hand from Alois' back, Ciel reached out to feel one of the mugs. "I would say it's more like 'warm chocolate.' Perhaps 'lukewarm,' at worst."
"Fuck's sake..." Alois laughed, resting his forehead on the bluenette's shoulder while the other man grinned. "Snogging for so long, our drinks cooled down..."
"You act as though there is a problem, here..."
"There is no problem." the blonde sighed while raising his head. "C'mon, let's go drink our chocolate milk with marshmallows."
"Are these mugs microwave safe?" questioned the Watchdog.
"Don't want chocolate milk?"
"It's not that, I just think that it would feel a lot nicer for it to be warm when we cuddle."
Alois conjured the image in his mind, imagining himself and the bluenette, all curled up in a blanket with hot chocolate. He nodded rather seriously and said: "We should definitely give it a try."
A/N: Oh my god... It was so hard to resist not blabbing about vampire legends while writing this, but somehow, I managed... After all, y'all know how much I love that supernatural bullshit, right? I really wanted to geek out about it, but I contained myself. Praise me, for my sacrifice...
So just in case not everybody is on the same page, I didn't create Abhartach. I created this VERSION of Abhartach, but that's it. He's actually from an Irish legend that supposedly dates back to around the 5th century and supposedly, it was one of the legends that helped inspire Bram Stoker's Dracula!
I mean come on... A sword made of wood? What does that sound like? What do we stab Vampires with? Have you ever wondered why wooden stakes specifically? Abhartach.
That's one of the things that I kept with the legend, though. Also the fact that it's yew wood, specifically. In Celtic mythology, yew wood has a tendency of having magical properties, y'see... I also kept Cathrain as the one who killed him. In some versions, It's Fionn Mac Cumhaill, but I didn't know if incorporating bigwigs like that without thinking about it isn't really a good idea. I'd have to think about the fact that Fionn Mac Cumhaill exists, and if he exists, does that mean that magic, knowledge-fish exist and what all stories of his are "true!" So, Cathrain, it is. In the Cathrain version, though, he sometimes consults a monk or a priest or some other Christian guy instead of a druid, but I like the idea of people other than Christians knowing stuff about how to take care of supernatural nonsense.
There is a pretty important change I did make, though... It's kind of hard to miss... Eoghan doesn't exist in the legend... Like, at all. I literally added him in at the last second, but I feel like the arc benefits with him being there. I also specified that he is a revenant, not a vampire. Specifically, he is a DLTD revenant who works by DLTD revenant rules. (To clarify: Although most revenants possess somebody else's body, he possessed his own.) He does, however, demand blood, as you've read.
If you wanna know more about this legend, you should totally look it up. It's really interesting. You can actually find the place where Abhartach is supposedly buried, though some people say he got out!
Until the next chapter, my duckies~!
