The Fall of Lord Kelvyn
By Commentaholic
A/N: Oh what a month it's been! Almost 400 hits and 200 views, and as of the day I'm writing this, 16 reviews! It is not good to toot one's horn, so I won't.
Even though less than like 10% of "viewers" reviewed, I'm still happy for the followers I have, and I'd like to recognize the most loyal ones now:
ArtyThrip, Dualkatanas, both of you were loyal before I really felt any confidence about my writing, and have helped bolster my writing skills. You helped me create characters when I drew a blank. I'm not ashamed to admit it, I can't think up character names easily to save my life, and you saved me from that. The others that also reviewed but are not listed here, I also thank you for your reading and reviewing.
I'd also like to apologize for taking so long to update. Between school, the desire for a nice long revealer chapter, and a vicious bout with writer's block, I just couldn't finish it fast enough for my usual pace.
Read and Review!
Chapter 8: Strangers in the Night
Velvet strode through the camp towards the bonfire in the outskirts.
They had been forced to take an unexpected detour around the site of a landslide. This delay had cost them half a day, and Velvet had made the call to set up camp for the night.
As Velvet neared the fire, she spotted two eyes reflecting the flickering fire from the shadows. She sat down next to Helen, who was bundled up in a cloak against the wind. When on the march, Helen always isolated herself to deny her blood thirst the opportunity to overcome her after she drank enough to sate her vampiric nature. Velvet knew the isolation was for the safety and well-being of her adopted family and home, but she still missed Helen's presence during her own evening meals.
"Helen, aren't you going to join us for dinner?" inquired Velvet. Helen didn't answer, only shook her head slowly, her eyes still mirroring the dancing flames. Velvet knew what was going through her mind, it was always the same thing, she was lost in the memories of an event years past, back to the time she wished that she could forget. She couldn't, though, because of the mysterious stranger who had stolen, yet saved her life. He had taken her family from her. Worst of all that he stole, perhaps, was her heart, kindling a love that could never exist, not after what had happened. Helen still loved him, though. She still loved that dark-clothed man, that hunter of the night: that Vicente Valtieri.
Morrowind Wilderness, 137 years earlier.
The dust clouds lingered over the Ashland terrain, the only remaining sign of the severe sandstorm that had ravaged the area. A ruined cart, its cloth covering whipping around in the violent winds, was lit from within.
Inside the wreckage of the cart, a Breton family huddled, waiting for the father to return.
Separated from the rest of the caravan en route to Vivec from the Breton settlement north of Balmora. They had rolled along until they had taken a tumble down a cliff. It was a wonder they hadn't died, but they had not gotten away without injury.
When the cart tumbled, the occupants had been tossed around, the majority of them saved by the sheer number of packs. The one that had been injured had been thrown from the cart when it had crashes to a stop. Her head had impacted on a stone. She was lucky to be alive, even if only just barely.
The 16-year old daughter, her face covered in dried blood from a gash on her forehead, stirred. "Mother?" she called weakly.
"I'm here," the mother whispered to her, worry etched into her features, "What is it? Do you need something?"
"Where's dad? Has he returned yet?" the daughter asked.
"No, but I'm sure he'll be back soon with help, I know it." said the mother, "Now, sleep, you need the rest."
The daughter fell back on the blankets, slipping back into unconsciousness.
Looking out the gap in the canvas cart cover, the mother said, "Please get back soon, Frederic, Helen can't last much longer."
3 miles away, Frederic stumbled up a dune, shoulder braced against the wind, searching for a settlement.
Any settlement, he thought, even a Dunmer camp.
He scanned the horizon for any sign of life, not that he could see much through the swirling dust along the dunes. Frederic's heart leapt when he glimpsed a flicker of light in the distance.
Finally, he thought, civilization!
He trudged in the direction of the light, only to find that the source of it was a fire in front of a large stone structure, boxlike in shape. Apart from the fire, the place looked deserted, though. Disappointment set in as he realized that there probably wouldn't be much help to be found here, but he entered, if only to get out of the wind. He hauled open the heavy wooden door, slipped inside, then pushed it shut, slumping against the wood once inside. Then he examined his surroundings. He nearly jumped out of his skin when he noticed the building's lone inhabitant.
A vampire, a Breton by the look of it, lay stretched out, asleep, on a granite pedestal. It was in a dark shirt and brown pants. His hair, tied up in a smooth rogue's knot, lay like obsidian upon the cold grey stone.
The face, however, set it apart from the normal vampires one would find in Morrowind. His face, instead of the normal pale skin, was filled with color. In fact, the only things that warned Frederic of the man being a vampire was the cross-armed sleeping position and the slightly ajar mouth that revealed long, razor-sharp fangs.
Frederic slowly picked himself up off the floor, not making a sound. He turned to open the door, and was trying to lift the latch when he heard a voice from behind.
"Leaving so soon?"
Frederic turned around slowly. The vampire stood right behind him, standing passively with his arms behind his back.
"Do stay; I so rarely have company. What brought you this way?" the vampire asked, a cold grin crossing his face. His eyes glowed. Frederic knew enough about illusion magic to recognize a Command Humanoid spell when he saw it, tried to run, but found that he couldn't move.
Suddenly his mouth started speaking without Frederic wanting to, spilling all he knew about how he'd gotten in this predicament.
Ten minutes later, the vampire rose from the floor, where lay a pale Frederic LeBlanc, his glazed eyes casting an unseeing gaze towards the ceiling. Two pinpricks dripped blood from their place on Frederic's neck.
"Terribly sorry, took too much. A family, though, eh?" said the vampire, "It shall be good to feast so well after so long."
The vampire stood and walked to the door, pulling the heavy wood open with little effort. His dark form disappeared into the swirling sands.
Back at the cart, Helen's condition had worsened, her mother and brother did what they could, but until they got help, there was only so much they could do, all their medical supplies had been with the lead cart in the caravan.
The mother dabbed a wet cloth on Helen's burning forehead.
A figure appeared in the gap in the canvas, a silhouette against the sandstorm outside.
"Thank the Nine, Frederic, did you find help?" said the mother.
"I am not Frederic, but he sent me. He would have made the return journey but he was... spent from his exertions." said a voice with a rich Breton accent. The figure stepped into the light, "But where are manners, my name is Vicente Valtieri. I brought healing supplies, they're outside in my pack, I..." his eyes finally caught sight of Helen. His eyes widened, she was beautiful. Vicente recovered quickly from his shock. "Oh dear, he said, "it is worse than what Frederic told me of her injury, but it has been worsened by infection. Boy!" he said sharply.
Helen's brother looked up.
"Get up and go out to my horse and bring back the large black bag on the left side. Hurry!"
The boy hopped up and ran outside, he came back a few moments later with a heavy black bag.
"Good lad," Vicente took the bag, placing it beside Helen, next to where he knelt, feeling her forehead. He reached into the bag, pulling his hand out grasping a small vial of potion. He uncorked the bottle and trickled it gently down Helen's throat. She coughed some of it up, but kept most of it down. Vicente then turned his attention towards the gash on her forehead. He reached into his bag again, this time pulling out a strip of linen; he soaked this linen strip in a basin of potion and laid it upon the injury. Helen stirred, and Vicente held her down. "Still, child, stay still. I know it hurts, but the pain should fade momentarily." he said soothingly, "Now rest a moment, the potion needs time to mend injuries such as this."
Vicente stood and faced Helen's mother, who was thanking him, tears of joy streaming down her face. Vicente excused himself, and walked outside.
This, he thought to himself, is getting complicated.
His usual plan for his forays out to the caravan route usually only involved taking blood from the unassuming traders, then making his getaway. Never before had he had second thoughts about his scheme. Then again, he'd never been discovered in his lair, nor had to get too involved with his victims. Most of all, he'd never, in his 163 years of vampirism, ever fallen in love with one of his victims.
He looked sideways through the gap in the canvas. Her name was Helen, or so her father had said so briefly before his demise. He saw now why her father had braved the treacherous sandstorms and rocky terrain to find help. If not for the injury, which would heal, she would be beautiful beyond compare. She had lightly tanned skin, which accentuated her high cheekbones. Her hair, now in a wild tangle, was a rich color of brown. Although young, she had beauty that many women dreamed of, but would never obtain.
Vicente, for the first time in many years, felt regret at what he had to do now.
Wait, he thought, there is a way.
After some thought, he made his way into the tent, kneeling at her side. He felt her soft cheek, then her forehead, after lifting the strip of linen. "The fever has subsided," Vicente said with relief, "and the gash in her forehead is almost healed. Now, may I have a word with you outside, Mrs. LeBlanc." He strode outside, her following him. When he arrived at his horse, he stopped and turned back to Helen's mother.
"Helen is stable for the moment," Vicente said, "but she needs a special kind of treatment in order to recover fully. This treatment will take a few days, and will need to be done at my house nearby. We will return when she has recovered. That is, if you agree to allow me to treat your daughter."
Mrs. LeBlanc glanced back to the cart, uncertainty written across her features.
Vicente knew what she was thinking and said quickly, "I will be able to supply shelter and supplies for you and your son for the duration of the treatment. After she has recovered, I will also supply transport to the nearest town."
Mrs. LeBlanc's features relaxed, "Of course, Mr. Valtieri. I want Helen to be healthy again, do what you must."
Vicente said, "I will take her to my home, and return to you with supplies, and to lead you to shelter."
An hour later, Vicente laid Helen gently down on a bedroll. He said, "Stay here, Helen, I will be back after I finish with helping your family." He then went back out into the sandstorm. Helen barely registered his departure.
Helen awoke feeling better than she had in a while; certainly better than she had before the accident. She sat up, looking around for her family.
A tall, handsome Breton man with black hair walked in, carrying a tray of tea. "Ah, you've woken, right on schedule." He said, smiling.
"Who are you?" asked Helen, taking the mug of tea he offered her. This man was being unusually kind, not that she minded. He was rather good looking after all, and she rather enjoyed being cared for.
"You do not remember? I am Vicente Valtieri, the man who saved your life after you were injured in that terrible cart accident. This is the first time you have been truly awake for about 3 days, so I can understand your confusion."
Three days? She wondered what had been going on since the accident, for she could not remember coming here, for sure. The last thing she remembered was feeling a cool cloth on her forehead. She reached up to her head, feeling for the gash, but feeling no indication that she'd ever been injured.
"Where's my family?" Helen asked, wondering why her mother hadn't come in, if her waking up was expected.
Vicente's smile sagged a little, "I'm sorry, but before I arrived back at the cart to help them come here, they had already been attacked by raiders. Your father killed himself out of grief shortly after. Your entire family is dead. They are buried outside." Vicente said the last phrase somberly, his face filled with sadness.
Helen clambered off the bedroll, heading for the door. She couldn't accept this, they couldn't be dead.
Vicente stopped her just short of the door. "I'm sorry," he said, "but you can't go outside right now."
Helen stared at him strangely, "What do you mean I can't go outside? I have to know for sure! They couldn't have died; they were all skilled in defensive magic." She tried to pull away towards the door latch.
Vicente determinedly held her arm tightly. "You cannot leave because of your condition. In order to save you, I had to use…unorthodox methods," he said slowly.
"What the hell does that mean?" Helen said, beginning to think that Vicente might just be slightly insane.
"Do I have to spell it out for you, girl? You're a vampire now! The sun will burn you alive!"
This staggered Helen. A vampire? How?
Vicente held her gently, saying, "I know, it's a lot to take in all at once. It was the same for me."
He was a vampire? He had to have infected her! The image she had of him as a kind, handsome man suddenly vanished, replaced by a picture of him stooping over a sleeping figure, drinking its blood.
She pushed him away, "Get away, freak! Why'd you infect me, anyway?"
Vicente stepped closer again. "Helen, you are special. In all my years, I have never met someone that I dared have feelings for."
Now he was coming on to her? This man had the nerve to make her a vampire without her consent, and then try to seduce her?
Helen and Vicente avoided each other for a few weeks after that. Helen, of course, couldn't travel easily because she didn't know where to go, Vicente refused to show her the way to the nearest town. Vicente somehow always supplied enough blood to keep them looking normal, but Helen still fought against her condition. One time, she almost died due to blood starvation, but Vicente managed to save her in time, but wouldn't let her go. He was essentially holding her hostage, a prisoner of her own condition, and a prisoner of her Blood Lord.
The Blood Lord, as defined by the Vivec scholars, is the vampire that creates another vampire. The new vampire is naturally subservient to the Blood Lord, and will die if the Blood Lord is defeated and killed. This live-die relationship is very dangerous to Vampire Clans, and has led them to the endangered existence they now live. It is very rare to find a vampire without a Blood Lord, and there are only two ways that they emerge: one way is that those that are bound to a Blood Lord free themselves by their own willpower, which is a rare event due to their natural subservience. The other way is that they were banished by their clan, an equally rare event; as the clans usually kill any that deserve banishment. Blood Lords are usually the ancient vampires that have been around for an average of 1000 to 2000 years. Those that have survived that long are old, but no less powerful than any other vampire.
Helen's policy of avoiding Vicente lasted about 2 months. Eventually, it became almost unbearable to live without anyone to talk to, and so they started conversing occasionally.
Helen learned of Vicente's origins, how he'd almost been killed by the Selenu vampire clan. He had apparently hunted in a rival clan's territory, almost causing war between the clans. He had escaped and had been living as a nomad until finding his current home and making it livable. She also learned of the benefits of vampirism. While making her an outcast as one of the undead, she gained strength under the stars, and had the ability to charm anything with a weak will.
Vicente, in turn, learned more about her. Helen had grown up in the settlement north of Balmora. The Breton settlement was a close-knit group that always went to market together, leaving behind a group of warriors to defend the settlement while they were away. Helen told him of her life, her friends, and her neighborhood. She even told him of her favorite foods, and of course, he endeavored to prepare them, even with their meager resources. Once a week, Vicente went to town to get supplies, but only during the day, so that Helen couldn't follow. Even though their relationship had improved, he still didn't trust her not to run off. Helen didn't know how he was able to travel during the day, even though his vampirism was more advanced than hers.
Over the period of about 4 years, Helen and Vicente grew close, although Helen would always deny it. They eventually went into town together, Vicente would still keep an eye on her, but she never ran off. Her family eventually left her mind, replaced by her growing love for the vampire that had saved her back on that gloomy night.
This love lasted until that one fateful day, when their relationship shattered.
Helen and Vicente were in the city again, walking together, holding hands. They perused the miscellaneous foods in the stalls. They continued in this fashion until they came to a stall that looked a little familiar to Helen.
It was a stall from her hometown. The stall owner recognized her, despite her maturing due to vampirism.
"Helen? It is you! Thank the Nine; we thought that you'd died with the rest of your family! When we came back around to look for your cart, you were nowhere to be found! What was left, though," he shuddered, "was terrible. What was strange was that, although it was obvious that there was an attack, there was no blood spilt. It was almost as if the killer had been careful to not shed any blood."
Helen stood, frozen and wide-eyed. In all her history lessons from Vicente, she only knew of one predator, man or beast that killed in that fashion: The Vampire.
Vicente tried to hush the man, pleading that such talk was dredging up terrible memories.
The implications of this revelation finally hit Helen full force. She pulled free of his hand. He looked at her with a strange look on his face, one she hadn't seen since he had told her that her family was dead. Helen took off through the streets, ignoring Vicente's cries for her to stop, to listen to his explanation. He had killed her family; she didn't know why she hadn't thought of it sooner. She had been blinded by his kindness and their shared nature. She had been fooled, not realizing how dependent she had been on his knowledge of her condition.
She suddenly felt a strong urge to return to him; and knowing this was the Blood Bond, almost gave up, thinking that it was hopeless. Whether or not Vicente was sorry, their relationship was ruined forever; she could never look at him the same way again.
She had almost turned back when she realized that she had made the choice to turn back. She'd been so lost in her thoughts of hopelessness that she hadn't realized that she had a choice.
"Helen? Please, come here." Vicente said from the side alley's entrance in front of her, "I apologize for what happened back then. I just couldn't let you slip away."
"How could you?" Helen said, tears of sorrow and of rage filled her eyes, "How could you slaughter my family and then lie to me?"
"Ignorance is better than exposure to the terrible truth." Vicente said calmly, regret veiled behind his eyes, "Helen, please forgive me. I love you."
Helen, despite her former feelings for Vicente, turned and ran, expecting him to chase after her. To her surprise, he didn't, only stood there sadly, watching her run away from him.
For the next 120 years, Helen roamed the land between Morrowind and Cyrodiil, searching for meaning to her life after Vicente. She eventually met a young girl named Velvet, the rest is history.
And although she outwardly harbored resentment and hostility towards Vicente; inside, she still cherished those years of her life she spent with that tall Breton from the wastes of Morrowind.
A/N: Well, longest chapter yet, I kind of wanted to go for more than about 3700 words, but as DualKatanas says, "It ends when it ends"
Anywho, as recently revealed in ArtyThrip's recent story update, this is my own version of Helen's history, and the real backstory is the story of the vampire altmer. I have to tell you, it is kind of hard to keep the years consistent when dealing with a lifespan as long as Helen's.
It was also hard enough to find a way to get them to meet; even more so to find a way to ruin their relationship. As I have so blatantly advertised, my romance skills stink, so if you think it went too fast, or too slow, or too corny, please keep it to yourself, I already know :P.
I'd also like to apologize for the terrible quality of the breakup, I kind of wanted to bring in someone from Helen's past, but couldn't find a way to break it to her gently.
I hope that I didn't keep you story alerts waiting for the update, school's been interfering with my writing schedule.
Also, for those wondering, that little entry I put in defining Blood Lords was all mine. I made it all up, so don't quote me if you ever run into a situation containing a vampire patriarch.