Broken Wings
by Darth Stitch

DISCLAIMER: As mentioned in first chapter.

PART III

CHAPTER 10

It was almost as if she was looking at two different men.

The first picture showed him in the white and blue uniform of the now-defunct United Nations Air & Space Force, icy blue eyes almost glaring at the camera, those fine aristocratic features set in a stern, forbidding expression. Her fingers brushed the rather thick file of information – a gift secured from certain allies – on him. She had already committed most of the information to memory, much of it filling gaps in her own knowledge of certain events.

There he was, the second of the four experimental "new humans" – bred for beauty, intelligence, strength and longevity – all valuable traits necessary to become leaders of the Red Mars project, which was to be the beginning of humanity's expansion into space and beyond. The space colony on Mars was meant to be the pinnacle of human achievement and the discovery of those Martian artifacts – Kudluk and Krusnik – had promised all the things that men and women had sought for throughout the ages. A long life free of disease and illness, great strength, eternal youth…

Instead, the Martian colonists who returned with the Kudluk nanomachines inside their bodies experienced a mutation when they came to Earth, exhibiting vampiric tendencies. Instead of their knowledge being shared freely amongst the peoples of the earth, war, greed and self-interest set in and it led to that last dreaded final war – the Armageddon, blasting humanity back almost to its dark ages, with only a few precious remnants of its former technological glory.

More than nine hundred years had passed after the Armageddon raged, with so much of the actual events blurred with legend and myth in the minds of the short-lived Terrans. There was the Naia Sancta, the benevolent Black Saint, who with other "saints" such as the Carthaginian Queen Elissa and Istvan of Hungaria, had gained the trust of the Catholic Pope and had turned the tide for the Terrans in that war between them and the vampires.

And there were the Twins, known as Contra Mundi, the Angels of Death and Destruction, so feared and terrible that their disappearance had actually ended the war.

Oh yes, in this photograph, it was so easy to see how he could bear so much hatred and darkness, so much anger and rage. What must it have been like for him, to be brought forth from a sterile laboratory as an image of perfection, devoid of what so many humans take for granted such as family and friendship…

And then, there was the other photograph.

The icy blue eyes were slightly obscured by those round old-fashioned spectacles but they were twinkling with mischief. The long silver hair was held back in a ponytail with a black ribbon. He was smiling now, clowning almost for the camera, dressed in the black robes of a Roman Catholic priest.

Abel Nightroad, once Abel Nightlord, Commander of the UN Space Force to Mars.

Abel Nightroad, who was once Contra Mundi along with his brother Cain.

Abel Nightroad, Crusnik 02, an AX Enforcer for the Vatican, a gunslinging priest who could slay vampires ever so much more effectively than the ones who carried hammer and stake and garlic, the bane of vampires in so many novels and films.

Abel Nightroad, who had smiled and charmed and danced with her tonight, as the Prince of the New Human Empire, Artorius Elric Vradica.

Did you have reason to mourn?

Yes, I too have had reason to mourn.

Tatiana Nicolaievna Romanov laughed but there was no mirth in that cold, terrible sound.

STORYTELLER'S REQUIEM

They lived happily ever after for the rest of their days.

Oh, that was the way our story was meant to end. We weren't hoping for eternal bliss, of course – every life was filled with its own joys and sorrows. But we looked forward to days when we no longer needed to watch for signs and portents signaling the return of our most ancient foes, to nights when we no longer needed to sleep with a weapon near at hand.

Kyrys and Elora wanted children.

We were so tired of fighting.

The images of the past keep flashing in my mind, each of them forming a long, terrible, sorrowful tale. I see the children they fashioned from our unwilling flesh and blood – oh God have mercy on us, what travesty this is – from Kyrys and I. I see their deeds, their joys, their griefs, the seemingly endless war that they are now caught up in.

I see the one first-born, the golden one, with his summer-bright hair and those dark blue eyes. They who created him lavish upon him all their attention and love, for in their sight he is utterly perfect, never sensing the emptiness there, the utter blackness of his soul, stark contrast to his outer appearance. What irony is this that he so resembles that first Revenant Lord that Kyrys struck down millennia ago?

I see the youngest one, the eternal little girl in my own image, black hair and Kyrys' jade green eyes in that elfin face. Those eyes see clearly and keenly, like I did, long ago. I see her at the heart of an empire of vampires and humans, benevolent mother to them all. She has learned these lessons well from the woman she had always known and loved as a mother and in her memories the woman lingers still, beautiful with red hair and eyes that seemed to hold all the sadness of the world…

I see this same woman in the sorrowful memories of the one second-born, the first-born's twin, silver to his gold. But in this one, I see Kyrys more, truly the son of Winter's Prince, hair closer to silver-white rather than gold, icy blue eyes so like my own. They thought him imperfect and flawed, a pale shadow of his twin. But his soul is bright and intense, filled with all the human emotions and passions his twin could never feel. He is all what his twin should have been and could never be.

Ah… you know this, don't you, Cain Knightlord? That is why you killed her, the red-haired, beautiful one, Lilith, your brother's beloved. You thought that her death would bring him back to you, for he is your twin and he must not belong to anyone but you.

My broken wings,
How far should I go drifting in the wind...?

The song has been sung, the shadows have been banished from my mind. Kyrys and Elora are gone, their story ended at last.

But I am still here.

I stand alone and my hands close upon Kyrys' sword, its black blade catching the moon's reflection. So many stories this blade could tell, so many battles fought and won.

I am still here.

My tale is not yet done.

CHAPTER 11

Bell was missing.

It could not have come at a worse time. When the "Empress" would finally announce that she was retiring for the night, the Ball would be officially over. Naturally, once the guests were gone and most of the Palace staff exhausted after the festivities, there would be no better time for their enemies to strike.

Ion would have given anything right now to have the imposing presence of Lord Baybars and his yeniceri with them at this moment. Instead, he, Ion Fortuna, Count of Memphis from the ancient and noble House of Moldova, was the sole protection of Seth Nightlord, the true Empress of the Tzara Methuselute.

"Oh this is SO not good," Seth was now groaning as she wandered down the hallways of the Catherine Palace. "Where on earth could she possibly be?"

Not that Her Majesty was incapable of taking care of herself. Ion had never seen Seth in her Crusnik form but he knew he would never forget how her brother looked as one. Silly, clumsy, featherbrained Father Abel Nightroad had transformed into a veritable god of slaughter back in Drakovia and had made short work of those rogue werewolves and those other demons that sorcerer Isaac and Samael had conjured.

Mostly, Ion would never forget how Father Nightroad had flown right in the path of that blast of power that Samael had hurled at him and Esther. The priest had never hesitated, not for a second, in trying to save them.

Ion and Astharoshe had both realized immediately that Abel could be no other than their Empress' long-lost brother.

"You are our Prince and might even be our Emperor, should misfortune, gods forbid, ever befall our Empress," Ion had once said during one of those infamous "dancing lessons" that the Empress had ordered him to give Abel before they came to Russia. "I wish you would stop denying who and what you are, for all our sakes."

"Ion," Something in Abel's voice made Ion instinctively look up and then, he beheld the stern and authoritative features of his Lord and Prince for the very first time. The young boyar wanted to look away but he was caught by those wintry blue eyes.

"I made a promise, once, to someone very dear to me, that I would always protect humans. Terrans… Methuselahs… Crusniks… those words are meaningless to me now. We are all human."

Abel laid a gentle hand on Ion's shoulder. "I will always protect humans. That is my oath, Ion Fortuna."

"Ion? Wanna get off Memory Lane and give me a hand here?"

Ion started as he found himself very, very close to his Empress, who was definitely giving him The Look. Blushing furiously, he stammered, "My apologies, Your Majesty. Bell can't have gotten too far. She's just a kid – how hard could it possibly be to find her?"

Seth snorted. "And I was an unholy terror around my brothers at that age. Trust me, this is karma coming back to bite me in the ass."

"Eh?!" Oooo-kay, that was a pretty good impression of Abel Nightroad right there.

Seth facepalmed. "Ion Fortuna, I can't believe you just did that."

"I am only following the good example set by my Prince," Ion answered, recovering quickly. "Besides, I would imagine that Her Imperial Majesty was a complete angel when she was four."

"Flattery will get you everywhere," Seth singsonged. "And c'mon, it's not that hard to say my name. Just one syllable, easy to spell, easy to remember. I am Seth! Seth I am!"

"Um…Seth," There, he'd said it. "Maybe it would be a good idea to get back to the ballroom. Grandmoth--, I mean, our 'Empress' must retire for the night soon. We all know what could happen next."

"We can't leave Bell," Seth said firmly. The bright green eyes were dark with determination. "She is under my protection; I won't let anything happen to her."

I will always protect humans. That is my oath, Ion Fortuna.

"I am your spatar – your sword-bearer, my Lady," Ion said quietly, realizing now that he would be more than willing to lay down his life for both his Empress and his Prince. "I know we must watch over the innocent and weak. But I can't let anything happen to you either."

Seth's expression softened and then, to his surprise, she tenderly stroked his cheek. "I know. I love all of my children, Ion… I won't stand back and let the least of them be hurt. Not again. Not after Radu. Not after Suleyman."

Tears pricked Ion's eyes at the mention of his late tovarishch, lost to the machinations of the Rosen Kreuz Orden.

"That was the promise I made to the one I loved like a mother," Seth said softly. Suddenly, her eyes narrowed and then, flashed blood red. Fangs appeared in her rosebud mouth, energy arced all around her body, making her short black hair rise up like the fur of an angry cat. In her hands appeared strange, trident-shaped weapons, lightning arcing at its sharp edges.

Ion drew his sword and jumped in front of his enraged Empress.

"Hello, Crusnik 03," said Isaak von Kampfer, surrounded by his demons and Auto-Jager. He made a mock bow. " Or perhaps, I should say, 'Your Imperial Majesty Augusta Vradica.' "

CHAPTER 12

Father Tres Iquus was programmed to analyze any given battle situation and to act upon it accordingly. The last of the "Killing Dolls," he had been an effective and deadly weapon of war, despite his deceptively human appearance.

"What is the meaning of this, Father Grigory?" The Empress demanded of the starets, as they were surrounded by the Grand Duchess' Chevaliers Gardes and Cossacks.

"It is for your protection, Your Imperial Majesty," said Rasputin smoothly.

"We are amply protected by Lord Baybars and our faithful yeniceri. There is no need for this."


Location: The informal council chamber of the Grand Duchess Tatiana Nicolaievna, where the "Empress Augusta Vradica" and her honor guard were led into for a special, private presentation by the Grand Duchess after the Empress had publicly announced that she would now be retiring for the night, signaling the end of the Grand Ball.


"With all due respect, Your Imperial Majesty, we have been advised that you will be assassinated this very night, by one of your Vatican allies, no less. Treacherous dogs – it will be the sign that shall call all Methuselah to war against Rome."

"You speak nonsense, starets," Astharoshe Asran snarled. "The Vatican personnel who are with us are trusted and loyal friends of Her Imperial Majesty's!"

Enemies: 100 Chevaliers Gardes. 200 Cossacks.

Allies: 50 Yeniceri. Baybars, Duke of Khartoum. Astharoshe Asran, Duchess of Kiev. Mirka Fortuna, Duchess of Moldova.

"Oh yes? A priest who pretends to be Her Imperial Majesty's brother? The murderer of the Marquis of Hungaria? Such fine friends you have!" Rasputin laughed.

"And of course, we will send the poor, wretched bodies of the innocents Sister Esther Blanchett and the child Bell back to the Vatican as a warning to our Terran enemies that they must bow down and accept vampire rule," Rasputin continued, baring his fangs in an obscene grin.

"You would not dare!" The Empress' voice rang out.

"On the contrary, Duchess of Moldova," Rasputin said smugly, finally calling her by her true identity. "All you need to do is die."

Lord Baybars had drawn his famous seven-bladed sword and all his yeniceri braced themselves for battle.

Astharoshe Asran had also drawn her Spear of Gae Bolg, energy blazing at its tip.

"The reign of Seth Nightlord is over! Mother Russia will be the heart of the New Methuselah Empire! Tatiana Romanov shall rule!" Rasputin raised his hands and flames blazed from them, spreading all over the room, cutting off the exits and effectively trapping all of them inside.

"I will rip out your living heart and feast on it, Rasputin! I swear it!" Astharoshe snarled.

Rasputin gave her an ironic bow. "I look forward to the pleasure, Duchess of Kiev. Igne Natura Renovatur Integra – and so we renew the world in fire…"

And then, he disappeared.


Mission: Protect and defend present Vatican allies.

Tres Iquus drew his guns. One brown eye gleamed red as his targeting systems locked in.

"Open Combat. Mode: Genocide."

CHAPTER 13

Abel had a bad feeling about this.

The Grand Duchess had approached him and Esther after their dance. It had been difficult to assume the cool façade of Imperial Prince, not when all he wanted was to slip away with Esther. It had taken every last ounce of self-control he'd had not to stride over to that lecherous monk and rip his throat out with his claws when he saw how Rasputin "danced" with her.

The song and the feel of Esther in his arms as they waltzed had helped to calm him down.

He had led her off to the side, praying that the two of them had not somehow just given away how they felt for each other to the entire Russian court when Tatiana approached them. She was looking very troubled and somehow very vulnerable. She had asked to speak to the two of them specifically and led them to her private study.

Once inside, she had gone to her desk, retrieved something from a rather thick folder and then presented it to Abel.

It was a picture.

Of Abel Nightroad in his priest's cassock.

And that was when he saw the soft look in Tatiana's eyes fade away to cold calculation.

She spoke a word. It was not in any language they had ever heard before.

And the Crusnik nanomachines in Abel's body somehow came to life without his deliberate command.

"What have you done?" Esther demanded in horror. She gasped when Tatiana suddenly grabbed her from behind, one strong arm trapping her own limbs, keeping them pressed painfully against her sides. The other hand rested on Esther's neck and the fingernails slowly lengthened into claws, pricking delicate skin.

"Let her go!" Abel growled, his voice already distorted and thick with the change, black wings bursting painfully from his back, sending him to his knees.

Esther gasped as Tatiana's claws sank just a little bit deeper into her skin, drawing blood.

Abel's eyes blazed. Not with rage, Esther realized with a sinking heart, recognizing that look all too well.

It was hunger.

Dietrich using Radu Barvon's body, laughing cruelly at her and Ion… Ion drained near to death of his own blood and his Thirst demanding that he slake it using her own blood…

"The old magic has been lost to you young vampires," Tatiana said conversationally, her thumb gently caressing the curve of Esther's cheek. "It is a surprisingly effective spell. Do you smell the blood of your beloved, Abel Nightlord? Can you almost taste the sweetness of it on your tongue?"

"Do not do this, Tatiana Nicolaievna," Abel gasped out, still on his knees, clawed hands digging deep furrows through the carpet and floor. "What do you hope to accomplish by it? She is innocent!"

"My brother and sisters were innocent! My father was willing to do all that they asked! And my mother would have given her life for any of us, especially Alexis! They showed us no mercy – I have learned that lesson well. There is no room for mercy in the heart of a prince!"

"Abel…" Esther whispered, hating that she was so helpless, struggling feebly in the Grand Duchess' grasp, blood running down her throat and staining the front of her dress.

Abel roared, evidently trying to fight whatever it was that Tatiana Romanov had done to him.

"Don't bother struggling," Tatiana crooned. "I know your kind would prefer vampire blood….but your desire for her now feeds your thirst. Give in to it, Abel Nightlord. Take her. And then… I shall have a fitting consort – a Tsar to rule by my side…"

"Never." Crimson eyes blazed with defiance.

Even Esther could feel the energy rising now as Tatiana chanted out more strange words. She screamed in pain as the bones in her right leg snapped. She could only whimper as Tatiana cruelly dropped her directly in front of Abel, like one would drop a bone before a dog.

Tatiana then went to Abel and bent to speak softly in his ear.

"Your brother sends you his fondest regards."

And then, she left them alone.

Esther's leg was broken, she could not run, even if she wanted to. This was not one of Dietrich's cruel manipulations – there wasn't even a weapon she could use, not that there was anything there that could possibly stop a Crusnik. Tatiana Romanov clearly intended her to die here and somehow, with her death, manage to control Abel.

The first time Esther had ever seen Abel in his Crusnik form, she had been so badly frightened that she could not believe that this was her gentle Father Nightroad. Now, she could only look at those familiar, beloved features, now wild and feral.

But his eyes…

In those crimson depths, she could still see her Abel. There was rage, that cruel hunger, desire, desperation, sorrow, guilt…but most of all, she could see the love there.

"Promised you," Abel rasped. "Always be on your side."

Esther had drawn Ion close, knowing that she was consigning herself to death by offering her throat to a thirst-maddened vampire. But he was her friend now and it was not his fault… not his fault that they were all caught up in this cruel, twisted game…

And Abel was not just her friend.

Somehow, she managed to crawl even closer to him and sit up. Gently, she touched his cheek and he shuddered.

"Please, Esther," Abel begged, one clawed hand closing on her own.

Her other hand threaded through his silver hair, bringing his head down and it was her turn to shudder with a strange, eager desire as she felt his lips touch her throat.

"I love you," she whispered and closed her eyes.

- tbc a.k.a. Darth Stitch pulling out an even more Evil Cliffhanger! –

QUICK VOCABULARY

Yeniceri – Imperial Guard; the manga implies that they may be the personal bodyguards of the Empress

Spatar ­ - sword-bearer, again manga reference

AUTHOR'S NOTES: (Edited)

You guys wanted a longer "chapter" - you've got it! :P

I thought of putting the additional chapters in Part IV, realized I could even make more Evil Cliffhangers and decided to go back and just put them in Part III. Mwahahahaha!

The action starts here, folks! Stay tuned for the next episode.

(I'm beginning to think that this is starting to resemble the Empire story arc in a way – didn't it take about four episodes in the anime before it was resolved? Stands to reason, I suppose, because this is an Empire-based story. Heh.)

Again, my heartfelt apologies for the delay – I was hospitalized recently and my health isn't the best right now. There is really an end scene already written – I just have to figure out how to tie things out just to get there.

Points to anyone who spots where I referenced the Empire arc as portrayed in the Trinity Blood manga (Hint: Think Dr. Seuss). Yep, I've got my hands on manga volumes 6-8 – whee! So much fun to read and forget the pain, when you're miserable and sick in bed. Getting the manga also allowed me to make some additional canon notes in the story - who else could the Naia Sancta be but Lilith? And wouldn't it be reasonable to suppose that Abel, being a priest, may claim as patron saint the Naia Sancta, especially since he bears her rosary. (I should work that into another story one of these days...)

I absolutely loved that moment in the manga where Baybars addresses Abel as "Lord Nightroad" for the first time and the look on Abel's face was so OMGWTF he called me Lord?! Win win win all the way. Kiyo Kyoujou-san does a very good rendition of the manga – Sunao-sensei must be proud, God rest his soul.

See ya in Part IV – where some serious ass-kicking shall commence! :)