!Warning: M (16+)-rated themes: Depiction of violence, cruelty and cannibalism.
AN: If some-one is reading: what do you think of my story so far? Please give me some feedback :-)
- XII -
Dark clouds covered the moon's face when Dimitri, Radu, and the others weary of war left the castle. They had started out well enough with one of the more musical of the men striking up a short folk song about a lost love. Well enough until one of the other village men had carried the word that Radu's son would not be returning with them. The young man had rashly chosen to join the soldiers under the prince's command.
"I still cannot believe that our lord permits us to return home with no consequence." Dimitri said. Despite the impulsive actions of his friend's child hanging over their heads like a cloud, he couldn't help the slight smile at their fortune.
"Shall we thank God for it, my friends?" Radu said. "I believe there is a chapel in the woods nearby."
The group turned off the track and followed a winding deer path into the woods, stamping to keep the chill at bay as much as to pack down the powdery snow underfoot. They hadn't come far upon it when Radu paused, noting the howling of wolves in the distance. He shivered and spat in the snow.
"Wolf winter…"
And a cursed time at that if the wolves were crying so near them.
Dimitri's expression didn't show fear or anxiety, but Radu knew him well enough to know that his friend was just as worried by the wailing cries. The calling of wolves was not the only sound to be heard. More cries echoed through the night forest, growing closer with each step they took towards the old chapel.
"This beast must be wounded then." Dimitri's voice was barely a murmur as he spoke. "By mundane wolves, do you think?"
"Werewolves, certainly!" Radu attempted a jest at his friend's expense, trying to ease the other man's worry.
A few moments later, they stepped out from under the shadows of the trees and crossed the small clearing where the chapel was. Radu was the first to freeze, eyes widening in disbelief. This was consecrated ground; blood should not have been spilled here tonight. And yet…
"No, it cannot be."
The others who had elected to follow him home, stopped at his back, a low murmur hissing through the men at the sight. What was holy ground was now a battlefield, severely wounded men pleading for mercy amid their dead or dying companions. The once pristine snow was a muddy mess, black from the blood spilled upon it.
Dimitri was the first to edge a step or two closer, dropping to a knee to examine one of the dead men. "Not your son, Radu. A small mercy for that at least, but many of these men have had their throats cut open. Ambushed perhaps? They did not have much time to unsheathe their weapons."
"These are the men who were with us at the castle." Radu said.
"Yes," Dimitri said dully. "But what kind of beast could have done this...?"
They did not need long to dwell on the nature of the thing that had slain the soldiers because it soon arrived, stepping out of the shadows and into their presence; a tall and lean figure, wrapped in a dark cloak.
Radu gasped and Dimitri sank to a knee in the filth, head bowed. "Milord."
Viktor's fine clothes and armour were matted with blood. Dimitri swallowed, praying it was the blood of some beast and not the blood shed from good, God-fearing soldiers.
Radu, kneeling next to him, crossed himself briefly, murmuring a prayer as their prince approached. Dimitri held still with bated breath. He had never personally met the prince before, but he could have sworn on all that was holy that Viktor's eyes hadn't been such a bright blue in the darkness before this night.
The nearest of the men behind them retreated back a step, clutching at their weapons in gloved, white knuckled grips.
"He is the devil," This came from a thin voice at the back of the crowd. A soldier stepped forward and held a rosary with a crucifix out, facing Viktor.
Viktor smiled, inclined his head, and moved almost too fast for the eye to see, appearing behind the man before grabbing at his crucifix and tossing it aside as if it meant nothing to him. A few men gasped, but fear froze them to their places as the soldier's body was thrown aside as easily as a rag doll, a bloody gash across his throat, his gaze fixed upon heaven's grace.
"See what your faith means now. He died for a god that does not exist," Viktor's voice echoed in the clearing.
Radu seemed to recover first, unsheathing his sword, but Viktor's reflexes were greater still as he seized the man by the front of his tunic, hauling him up off the ground.
The sword dropped from Radu's hand, fear loosening his grip.
"My… lord, please." His address was barely more than a croak. "Let me go."
The other men who had been preparing to come to his aid stopped in their tracks.
"What... did I ever do to you, Milord? Did I not serve you well in your last conquest?" Radu asked, his voice trembling.
The watching men didn't have time to react or time for horror at the unfolding events. Their prince's unholy speed was too great to stop. With a swift motion, Viktor slashed open the man's throat – with his bare hands.
The crimson fountain flowed, filling his mouth with a most delicious taste. Although this man was only one of dozens he had feasted from, Radu's shock and fear still tasted the sweetest. Or was it the love he bore his son? Viktor had yet to learn what caused the different flavours of mortal lifeblood, but he would, he intended it.
After he had drained him of the last drop, he let the broken shell of a man fall back to the ground. Now he would give his attention to the other mortals in the company.
"Now, my faithless men, you believe you can decline an offer of mine and leave like a dishonourable deserter instead of fighting for your prince? Weren't you surprised that I have given you a choice at all, you mortal fools? You should have known I would show you no mercy!" His voice was ice cold.
"Oh Lord, spare us!" Dimitri murmured. This truly was a monster before them.
"God will not save you from me, miserable worm." Viktor grinned in triumph while drawing his silver blade. "You will take your knowledge of immortals to the grave."
He raised his sword and ran it through armour and flesh, through cloth and out the other side so that it emerged coated in bright scarlet. With Dimitri and Radu gone, there were only a few men left, and in the blink of an eye, Viktor got rid of them, too, as fresh blood turned already stained snow into mud.
A low moan sounded, and he turned, lip curling in disgust. The man he thought he had drained dry was still alive, albeit barely so. Viktor hauled Radu up again, feeling the man's last gasp of pain as his hand broke ribs and tore through flesh to reach the desired prize inside. He smiled coolly, relishing the right his nobility gave him to take, whatever, whoever he wanted. Viktor had enjoyed the feeling of superiority for as long as he could remember.
This, however, was a pleasure of an entirely different sort. Lust, greed, gluttony, all things the priests had railed against in their pretty little sermons; they were only words, and it was a pleasure to hold the last heartbeats of a man in his own hand. Life, given to him in battle and now to strengthen him, to sustain him in the way food or wine had. No mere mortal would stop him now and Marcus would be unable to stand against Amelia and himself, two allied in such a way.
Viktor tightened his grip on the heart and tore it from Radu's chest, letting the dead man fall where he lay. He held the organ for a moment and watched with pleasure as it still twitched between his fingers, before biting into it, consuming the mortal's last lifeblood and devouring the heart itself, whole.