Part 1: The Past Unveiled
A Father's Plea
"I know you probably hate me, I don't blame you. I haven't been crazy about myself for quite a while. But you have to understand… no— how do I explain this in a way that makes sense to you? Ah! I know, I once read an article about how children who grew up without siblings are inherently selfish. Well… all my siblings died from sickness way before I even understood the concept of death, and then, when it was my turn I was given a chance to live… You see, my daddy was a military man…"
In the middle of the night, a man in a rumpled gray military uniform ran through the forest. In his arms was a young, frail woman. Her blonde hair dangled lifelessly over his arms.
As he made his way through the deep and misty forest, all he could hear was his own heaving breaths. Through the trees he saw a flicker of lights and a few seconds later he stumbled into a clearing. The small shack glowed from the inside, beckoning him. He stopped in front of it and before he could change his mind he kicked the door announcing his arrival.
The door creaked open, and a hooded figure stood in the doorway.
"Please, it's my daughter,"the man begged. "She's not well! Please help me! She's the only thing I have left."
The dark figure looked at the unconscious woman in the man's arms. Slowly it reached out a hand, its nails cracked and yellow, and ran its long fingers through the young woman's blonde hair.
The Colonel was desperate, this was his last chance, the last resort to save the only person left in his life. But the sight of the disgusting almost translucent hand made him recoil and second-guess himself.
Beneath its hood, the creature was pale, and sickly looking. But there was an inexplicable sense of danger when near him. The creature met the man's gaze, looking deep into his eyes and into his soul. How kind of him to bring her.
She would be a fine tribute.
"Please, can you save her?"
"I can." The man spoke in a snarl, thick with an ancient accent the Colonel had never heard of.
"Name your price! I'll give you anything you ask."
The creature looked up and the Colonel saw past the darkness of its hood. Its eyes were red and yellow and monstrous, no being of this Earth could possess eyes like that. The Colonel fell quiet at the sight of them, he wanted to look away but he couldn't. He was trapped.
"I want her."
"Y-you want her?"
"Yes, I can give her another chance at life, through a much different path."
The life drained from his body, and he looked down at his daughter, "Can you please…" the Colonel pleaded. "Name anything else, I'll give you anything, please anything but her…"
"You know my price, I will accept nothing else."
"She… she will die." The Colonel's voice broke.
"Then let me save her, and give her to me."
"Take me instead!"
"You?" The hooded creature cackled. "You bore me, give her to me, prove that you love her… "
"Will she be safe?"
"She will be powerful, she will be a goddess, her power will rival my own,"
"Will I be able to see her?"
"No. You must leave her, go and never come back, never seek her out."
"But she's my daughter."
"It's a parent's duty to do what's best for our offspring isn't it?" Its voice weaved seductive lies through its hypnotic gaze and the Colonel though strong was just a man.
"It is."
"I loved my father, and I'm sure I loved my siblings and my mother though I can barely recall their faces. Before I grew sick, I took care of my father. He was a good man, strong and caring. It destroyed me to see him weep for me. He took me to every doctor he could find, he begged, he paid, he did anything in his power not to lose me. But the illness was strong, and it had taken everyone he loved. That night he took me to… it. I can barely remember, but I can still hear the words. I wish he had let me die, but I understand why he made the terrible choice he made. That monster turned me and became my master.
What I remember the most… was the cool dampness of the wood floor on my skin, and the soft call of a Raven in the distance."
Enslavement and Survival
This was not a life worth living. She lay on the floor, staring into the darkness. The coarse wood was cool against her cheek, a sensation she had become too familiar with. She spent her days and nights in total darkness. She only knew abuse and suffering.
What kept her going was the small hole in the wall, barely big enough for fresh air to sneak in. But through it she could see the moon, she was so full and beautiful and she had become her friend. And in the distance she could hear the unmistakable call of a Raven. She had no idea what this raven looked like, but sometimes she spoke to it, and imagined its song, its call were responses tailored just for her.
The young woman was wearing tattered remnants of a burlap sack. Her porcelain skin, though indestructible, was dirty, soiled. The shackles around her ankle were strong enough to keep a supernatural being bound.
When the door of the shack burst open, and the hooded creature walked into the main room of the shack, she recoiled and scurried back towards the corner, hoping against all hope that he wouldn't see her. Because the creature was very much male, cruel and domineering and possessive.
With a grunt, he threw a live racoon at young woman chained to a dark corner. Instinct trumped fear and without a second of hesitation, she bit into it and drained its blood within seconds. The life-giving liquid was just enough to keep her alive. Mostly she felt hungry, malnourished, and weak.
"Sing!" The creature screamed at her as he sat on his rotten wood recliner in front of the fire. Her response was the same as she gave him each time. She hissed at him, but it was weak, and her fangs were still drenched in the blood of the animal.
The creature enraged by her continuous defiance stood up and grabbed a hot branding iron from the fire.
"You dare bare your fangs at me!" he barked as he reached for her with the brand.
"No!" she yelled as she tried to scurry away, to avoid his disgusting roaming hands. But as always she failed. He grabbed her by her hair and raised the brang close to her face. She snarled and her eyes fixed on it. She knew the pain from the brand well, and in her weakened state, the burn would linger and ache painfully.
"Sing or burn, your choice."
She closed her eyes, she wanted to cry but she'd cried every tear she'd ever had and would have. Her voice was low, sweet and her song was painful. She sang about birds, trees, about heroes, and love.
The monster sat back on his chair, and placed the branding iron back in the fire, satisfied for now. "If I must burn you a million times I will. You will break, you will serve me, and you will be happy about it."
After her song ended she whispered, "Why don't you let me die?"
"Because I gave my word. But believe me, little one, continue to try my patience and the fire will be the least of your worries."
She fought, she resisted, for as long as she could.
"I hadn't… I hadn't thought about those days in so long. During the course of human history, I'm sure others have wished for death, but I assure you, no one has ever wished for it more than me. The things he did to me, the things he did to my body, to my soul, were unspeakable, unforgivable, and unforgettable. I became not docile, more like not there, my body was, it went through the motions but my eyes, my mind, and my heart were elsewhere. Thinking about birds. About ravens, and about the moon, and about burning in the sun. At that time I had no idea how much time I spent in captivity, and honestly, I wished I never found out. One evening he didn't come back, I didn't care, I was barely even there. But someone entered the house, someone else. It was a young woman, and instead of running away at the sight of my disgusting state, she ran to me, to save me. And she did… with her blood. I was able to gather enough strength to break free. During my captivity, I did horrible things to survive, but killing that kind of woman was the worst one of all."
The Taste of Freedom
She sat silently over the corpse of the woman who had rescued her.
"I'm so sorry! Please forgive me. Please," she whispered. She wished she could bury her, but the warning craw of her friend the raven outside told her she didn't have much time. She placed a gentle kiss on her forehead and thanked her silently before making her way out of the shack.
Her bare feet touched the cold dirt. When she looked up the moon was full.
Aubrey's lips curled into a smile for the first time in a very long time. When she looked up her friend the moon told her to run, to be free, that the bad man would never find her again.
She hesitated for a moment looking towards the trees and the darkness above her, hoping to see her friend the raven but she couldn't see him. It was too dark.
The moon told her to hurry. She snapped out of it, nodded and ran.
She ran as fast as she could, she relished every bit of ground, every pebble, and every stick that she stepped on because they meant freedom. The blood had given her just enough strength to run at blinding speeds. The further she got from the shack the lighter she felt, the guilt, the horror, everything was pushed down, and she was free. She was finally free.
And she suddenly felt it, the bond, the man, the monster howled in pain, knowing she had escaped, and he would never find her again. Through their blood bond, she could feel his pain, and she cherished it.
"I ran so fast, and for so long, and I only stopped when the sea herself blocked my way. I wasn't angry, in fact, I laughed. I laughed because I was free, because of how impossible that moment felt. I laughed because I had cried for far too long.
The moon, the ocean, and the sand beneath my feet were my companions, and as I cleansed myself of the grime, and the filth of decades of abuse I finally felt… hope. I don't know how long I spent in the water, but I came out naked and reborn.
Not too far I could hear the sounds of young men and women, playing guitars, and laughing. They looked so carefree.
I was famished.
After I killed and fed from them, I finally learned how long I was captive… 50 years. The monster kept me imprisoned for 50 years.
Do you realize how long that is? I'm sure you have an idea, but not really.
50 years of darkness… and… I–uh.
I'm sorry. Its just when I was finally free, I had one thought in my mind. I had a lot of time to make up for."
A Taste is Never Enough
"They say time flies when you're having fun, I don't agree, it's more like a blur. Images blend together, people, places, and things they all look alike and you glide through moments delighted at first. I want to say that the novelty of hedonism wears off but not exactly, it's an addiction, what once required only a little, now requires a lot more, and that more has become varied, complicated, and playful. It wasn't just feeding and sex, sure there was that. But it was more like playing, finding something new to amuse myself with for a decade or two. Though… I never turned anyone. I had resolved to save this dark gift, or... curse, only for myself."
During the Jazz Age, Aubrey made Paris her playground. She enjoyed the excess and rebellion, she wore the era like a cloak, and she spent her time dressed in silk, velvet, and lace.
Wherever she went she was wanted. When she danced men and women fought to dance with her.
The lovers that survived her passions loved her and thought of her as their muse. Many would go on to become men and women of literary renown.
As they spoke of suffering and life, Aubrey lay beside them, not even feigning interest in their ramblings, she simply stared at the moon through the window, the one constant in her life.
During the Rock and Roll Era, Aubrey shifted her hunt to the streets of New York. This was an age of a different kind of rebellion and she loved it. She loved the music, the cars, and the lovers parked in secluded areas engaging in sin. They were easy pickings. She loved sitting in the convertibles, surrounded by blood and dying lovers, listening to the songs of Chuck Berry, Little Richard, and Buddy Holly.
She loved the tight leather jackets and high jeans that accentuated her curves.
The young men and women who flocked to her were drawn in by the danger of her sway and the red of her lips. But even as their bodies intertwined, and Little Richard sang about "Tutti Frutti" Aubrey's mind drifted. The pleasure, though sharp and intoxicating, was becoming fleeting.
Inside Studio 54 the lights were dazzling and the music vibrant. Aubrey had mastered the art of seduction by then, her beauty ageless, her charm irresistible. She danced among the flashing lights, her body moving in sync with the beat, her movements as fluid as the ocean. Every eye was on her, drawn to the way she commanded the room with nothing more than a glance. Here she was a queen, and these were her loyal subjects.
Her nights were filled with drug-fueled lovers, their hands on her body, their lips pressed against her skin. She tasted their blood, their desire, their desperation to be close to her, even if just for one night. They worshiped her, but she never let them stay. As soon as the heat of the moment passed, they were nothing more than fleeting memories. The lucky ones left with happy memories.
Nights became longer, the pleasure dulled, and she felt imprisoned in the motions she set for herself. In a private room surrounded by beautiful people of all kinds, her blood and carnal lust temporarily satiated, she felt impossibly alone. How can one feel alone when being worshiped?
"I realized too late that it was time to come home. I knew he'd be gone. But that didn't stop me."
Aubrey, now dressed in the finest clothes money could buy, walked towards the huge estate of her family. Time had been cruel to it, the grounds were unkept and the windows were broken. The mansion was so far into the woods that once time and nature consumed the main road, the mansion was left all alone. She walked into the home and was disappointed to realize that she could barely remember the place, her mother, or her siblings. But she remembered her father with a mixture of love and something she still hadn't figured out. .
She walked into the master bedroom, where her father and mother once slept. In the drawers she found a leather-bound journal that had belonged to her father. Her fingers softly caressed the worn leather as she sat on the dusty bed to read her father's last words.
The man had spent the last of his years living in isolation, tormented and heartbroken. He always regretted his decision and abandoned the world. He lived and died in darkness and solitude. His last servant, as a final act of kindness and pity, took the time to bury him by the old family tree.
The old family tree? Aubrey thought as she stood up to look out the window. There it was, his grave by the dead tree. She closed the journal and pressed it to her chest, she realized she should pay her respects.
She knelt in front of his grave, and read the single sentence written on his headstone, "Loving father."
Aubrey's fingers trembled as they trailed each letter. She never got to say goodbye.
"I'm sorry Daddy, I'm sorry I never came back. I was afraid. I was lost and I was angry. I know you think you did what was right for me. But he was… a bad man. Cruel. And when I was finally free I just ran, and ran and I didn't look back…. I don't know how long I've been running to be honest.
"There's so much I don't know, like should be mad at you? Should I be thankful? I don't know. But I do know that I miss you. And I missed so much, that monster took everything from us."
Aubrey stood up and turned to face the family home.
That monster took everything from us. But there's something he didn't take.
This was her home and it was battered but still standing. Through storms, the passage of time, the monster, it was still here. And in it, she sensed her father.
Strangely enough there were no tears to be wiped away. She would reclaim her home, reclaim the memory of her father, and her life.
The Raven Beckons
"Rebuilding my family home gave me purpose, it soothed the craving of touch. But not the one of blood. The workers worked during the day, I would check their progress at night, and then I would hunt. I avoided the places I once felt comfortable in, the clubs, the discos, I was sick of large crowds and the superficial attention. Instead I became more selective with who I wanted. And once I had found a worthy prey I indulged.
One night as I was walking down the street, I saw her, a brunette with a slight frame, and a quiet playful strength in her blue eyes. She was with a redhead whose joy was contagious, and they both looked so happy. Not innocent, maybe naive of the weight and darkness of this world.
I thought about taking them. I could have, it would have been so quick they wouldn't have even noticed I was there until it was too late. But there was something about them that stopped me. Curiosity. I resolved to observe, which was surprisingly filling. The brunette's defenses were no match for the redhead's charm. There was something about their relationship that drew me in.
So my fun little stalk and hunt game turned into a quick let's get it over with so I could go back to watching them.
They never saw me of course but I saw them. Their relationship became my new vice.
One day it all changed, and that beautiful brunette was crying outside of a hospital. Grief radiated from her and I watched as she crumbled onto a bench. Something inside me broke with her. I wanted to approach her and comfort her but I couldn't. I'm a monster after all. Instead, I watched, helpless as she sobbed openly and alone.
Her grief mirrored mine. I hadn't allowed myself to feel anything in decades. I had shut it all out—what happened with my father, the pain of my captivity, even the loneliness that followed—but seeing her like that, so vulnerable and lost, it was like seeing my own pain reflected back at me.
Her pain was mine. The way she cried... it was as though she was mourning something larger than a single person. It was the kind of grief that came from losing a part of yourself, something I understood far too well. I hadn't cried for my father, for my family, for the life I'd lost, but watching her, I felt like I could.
I developed a fascination with her. I would follow her closely because I wanted to know her, I wanted to understand her. I checked in on her, making sure she was alright. She was a recluse, like me. And after months of being locked in her bedroom, she came out, like a goddamn phoenix she rose from the ashes and played at a small venue.
My God! I had never heard such music. It tore through me, it caused an upheaval of emotions. And I had heard and witnessed decades of music come and go. But hers…her music, her mixes, it was different, harrowing, raw, brutal, and desperate. It made me feel things I didn't know I could still feel. With her music, I felt… seen. And of course, I was left with no choice. I became a fan.
She wasn't just another human, she wasn't prey. She became my beacon in the darkness. My Raven."
Part 2: Love, Lust and Heartbreak
A Love Reborn
Beca Mitchell, the DJ of Sorrow, during the anniversary of Chloe's death, mixed with everything in her heart. Her body was encased in latex that shined and reflected the multicolored lights of the club. Her music was dark and desperate, and the song "Exhaustion" cut through Aubrey. She too was tired, but unlike the DJ she wasn't tired of living, she was tired of loneliness. And that's when she saw her tears, the DJ was sinking so deep into her despair that she cried as she mixed.
Aubrey's heart yearned for her. She looked so beautiful. She decided that tonight she just had to have her.
"I didn't use magic on her, I'm not an enchantress, I was just honest and open. I told her I wanted her, I wanted her body, her heart, and her soul. In my experience, people just need to know that they are wanted, and they'll become yours. That first night… I think that was the happiest I've been in a long time. She looked, felt, and tasted better than I dreamed. For the first time in a long time, I truly enjoyed someone.
I wanted to make this night as special as I could for her. Because the next step would be crucial and I just hoped she wouldn't hate me.
When I gave her the choice in a way it felt like I was facing the same choice as her. To die, or to connect. And I waited for her answer with bated breath. But she turned it around on me.
"Will you love me?" She asked me.
Love?
I'm not sure I know what love is. I'm not sure if I'm even capable of it. But I know one thing for certain if I can love. Then I will love you until my dying breath, my Raven."
That was my first time turning someone and helping someone through the feeding process. I hated seeing her suffer through it. It never occurred to me to think about the ethical implications of feeding.
For 50 years I fed on four-legged creatures, and it was because he wanted me to stay weak and docile. I didn't want that for her, I wanted her to become strong and powerful. When she asked about feeding on animals… It brought back bad memories. It upset me. I didn't want to see her going through what I went through. It was… too painful, too cruel.
A Love for Lust
I wanted to show her the world, hoping that I'd give her a distraction from her troubles. She was mine, and so was her sorrow.
I needed my Raven to not regret her choices. So I took her to the tallest building in the city and I asked her to dance with me.
Maybe it was symbolic. Maybe I wanted to show her how we're really above them. Our kind rose above humanity, we left out humanity the second we turned. We became hunters, and they prey.
But whatever, if she needed to tell herself that killing bad men would help appease her conscience so be it. And I would dote on her with everything I had. I would show her just how wonderful she is to me and never regret her decision to become mine.
Aubrey was a master of control, not just over her own body, but over the atmosphere around her. The room was hers, the brush was hers, and the subject—her beloved Beca—was hers in every sense. Each stroke of the brush reflected her desire to show Beca how much she meant to her and how deeply she was cherished. She could feel the quiet intensity of Beca's gaze on her, playful, curious, and so utterly devoted.
"Thank you, dear," Aubrey replied. But her own mind was still buried in her work, focused and concentrated on capturing every detail of Beca's beauty, her vulnerability, and her power. She wanted the world to see her, as she did.
When she finished, she felt that familiar warmth in her chest. She gestured for Beca to come closer, to share this moment. As Beca climbed into her lap, Aubrey's heart fluttered. And when Beca looked at the painting, her reaction was all Aubrey needed. The awe in Beca's voice as she whispered, "Mistress," sent a pleasant thrill down her spine.
Aubrey placed a soft kiss on her bare shoulder, feeling that surge of possessiveness and protectiveness that only Beca could invoke in her. As their kiss deepened, the painting, the brush, and the canvas all faded into the background. Right now, it was about them.
With a playful tug, she unwrapped Beca from the blanket like the most cherished gift. The sight of her naked, sprawled on her lap, was simply irresistible. Her hands moved instinctively, taking hold of Beca's waist and lifting her effortlessly, enjoying the sound of Beca's surprised laughter as she carried her to the bed.
Once Beca was laid out before her, Aubrey paused, letting her gaze sweep over her lover's body.
The anticipation hung between them.
Beca waited, her eyes wide. Aubrey reveled in her submission.
A smirk tugged at the corner of Aubrey's lip. She spoke softly, but with that teasing authority that she knew drove Beca wild. "You know," she murmured, "I just got an idea…"
She reached for the brush again, but this time, the canvas wasn't a distant painting. It was Beca. As the oil paint danced across her skin, Aubrey loved the subtle shivers it sent through Beca's body. And as Beca responded to the sensations with her own eager tongue, Aubrey knew—this was her masterpiece.
Aubrey stood in the center of the dance floor, her body moving to the pulsating beat of Beca's music. It had been years since she commanded the center of the dance club. Recently, she had been content with just watching her DJ of Sorrow from a dark corner, but tonight was different. She wasn't here to observe—she was here to be worshiped.
The bodies that danced around her, writhing in latex and leather, craved her touch. But Aubrey's eyes never left the DJ booth, where Beca commanded the crowd. She felt a sense of pride mixed with hunger as her Raven played for her, dedicating the song to her in front of all these worshippers.
As the music thumped through the club, Aubrey allowed herself to be touched and caressed by the women who gravitated toward her. Their hands roamed her body freely, and she welcomed them with an indulgent smirk, knowing full well that Beca was watching every second.
This was a test of Beca's willpower. Could she remain composed, knowing that Aubrey was right there, being adored by others?
It wasn't cruelty. It was Aubrey's way of pushing Beca to embrace the darker parts of her desire, to channel her jealousy.
Later, as they sat in the limousine, Aubrey could feel Beca's restraint unraveling. She leaned back in her seat, smirking across the space between them, knowing that every minute of this was torture for Beca. Aubrey was in control, and the tension between them was delicious.
Aubrey's eyes commanded "don't touch me". Tonight she was in a good mood, and was feeling playful she decided to give Beca a taste of what her life had been like for decades but first she must crave it.
When they returned to Aubrey's mansion and entered the bedroom, it was already filled with beautiful women—the same ones who had danced with her earlier. Clad in latex, leather, satin, and fishnets, they stood in various states of undress, their eyes filled with the same desire that radiated from Beca.
"I wanted to thank you for the beautiful song," Aubrey whispered, her voice soft yet commanding.
"Mistress, I—" Beca hesitated, her breath catching at the sight of what lay before her.
Aubrey leaned in, her breath warm against Beca's ear. "Thank me later," she whispered, nudging her gently toward the sea of women who eagerly reached for her. Beca was quickly pulled down into their waiting arms, their touch overwhelming as they lavished her with attention. One woman latched onto her neck, and despite her best efforts to stay composed, a moan escaped her lips. Another kissed her passionately, but Beca's gaze never left Aubrey.
Aubrey, smirking, settled into a chair, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction as she watched Beca succumb to the onslaught of lust. From her seat, she noticed two women crawling toward her, positioning themselves submissively at her feet. Good. Why shouldn't she have someone on their feet before her?
Aubrey fingers grazed her collarbone as she observed one woman unzip Beca's leather outfit and latch onto her exposed breast. Beca moaned again, her eyes still locked on Aubrey. One of the women at Aubrey's feet began to lick her boots. She watched Beca surrender fully to her role.
Distance and Rituals
There's something you should know. Something she should know.
I… I get restless when I sleep. I get nightmares. About stuff I'd rather not talk about right now. And I find that though I'd rather be in bed with her, my body moves of it's own accord and I leave. I awake early and I slip into the night, I'm strong enough and clever enough that I can navigate the early dusk, unseen. Sometimes I feed, sometimes I find the ocean and my old friend the moon and I sit in silence.
Sometimes I do things I know I shouldn't, but I can't help myself.
There are times that I make it home before she's awake, and I'll just watch her sleep, she always looks so lovely. Other times I pretend to be asleep. But there are times when I get caught up in the moment and don't come home at all, until much later.
A big part of it is my own business, another part of it is the business of being what I am, which is something I'm not ready to expose her to. A smaller part is what I do to maintain my wealth and my estate. But no matter what I'm doing she's always in the back of my mind. No matter where I am, I'm never far from her."
"The night I turned her I offered to brush her hair because I wanted her to be comfortable, to soothe her, and maybe because I needed to care for someone. It was something I thought a master should do for their fledgling. Something my master never did for me.
I have a faint memory of my mother brushing my hair and being at peace. When she passed, my father who was a strong, silent man took over. He wasn't very gentle, and he didn't really know what he was doing. But it became this quiet language between us, words that he could never say, he said through this simple act.
Another part of me saw Beca, my Raven as my doll. And I never got to play with dolls, because even before I was turned, my life was chaos, the war, the sickness, I had to grow up far too quickly.
So Beca, my fledgling, my doll, my little Raven, my responsibility because someone I could dote on, and care for. It felt right, and it quickly became something much more than a task. It became this moment of peace between us. She never complained, not once.
But then, one night, she looked at me with those sharp eyes of hers and said, "My turn."
I froze.
I didn't know what to say, or what to do, and before I knew it, I handed her the brush. And she brushed my hair.
I felt so weak. So vulnerable and raw.
Beca was supposed to be my fledgling, I'm supposed to be her master. I was supposed to take care of her. This wasn't how it was supposed to go!
But here she was, showing me with each brush, her love for me, her devotion.
It made me feel things I wasn't ready to feel.
I was melting! Melting! Me!
It was new, foreign, and... in the simplest of terms, it was nice. I had no idea what I'd been missing out on. That's what it felt like to be taken care of and it was wonderful and terrifying.
I panicked. I couldn't handle it, it was too much, I didn't know what to do with these emotions suddenly welling up inside me.
So I pulled away, I left. I didn't want her to see how shaken this simple act had left me.
Outside, safe from her loving eyes, I was safe.
After indulging with a fresh kill, and my blood lust satiated.
I was able to breathe and remind myself who I was. I'm Aubrey, I belong to no one. I don't let my guard down, I don't show weakness or vulnerability. I don't let others take care of me.
I take care of those I love, my father... and now her. It was too much, I needed it to make sense on my own terms. I needed to regain control.
Looking down at the couple I had just feasted on,they had looked so happy… They gave me an idea.
I had to take her out on a date and I knew just the place."
A First Date between Monsters
I'd say that night was an unmitigated success, the piece was moving, and that dancer was exceptional. Little did I know the depth of her… but let's not talk about that just yet… let's talk about the date. I went to great lengths to make sure it was perfect. I picked out our outfits and I went to great lengths to find her those sterling silver cufflinks. It was so comforting to know she was captivated by me, and in truth I wanted to stare at her as well, I just felt like I needed to restrain myself.
And… I'm not sure I understand why. Maybe it's because I wasn't used to this, being loved in the way she loves me. It's consuming, and intense.
When I saw her killing that girl I felt relieved. And honestly the why is far too complex to put into words. But gun to my head… I was relieved that she was jealous? I'm new to this love thing and while in a way I saw Beca as mine, it was nice for her to see me as hers, like I belonged enough for her to kill.
Maybe it felt nice to not be the only… monster for once.
I know! That sounds horrible! I know. I just– I've been carrying the weight of what I had become alone for so long. I was and still am selfish.
Aubrey moaned when Beca took over for the girl. Her body was soaked in her blood and Beca was on her knees before her. Her tongue licking eagerly, hurriedly. Like her Beca was drenched in that poor girl's blood, her eyes reflected the vicious hunger. That vicious hunger that she understood perfectly.
"Oh God Beca!"
She didn't call her Raven this time. While she loved the pet name, it felt so right to moan her real name right now. But Beca was too entranced in the act, the lust and the blood frenzy to notice. When her tongue drove her to orgasm Aubrey reached down and grabbed her blood-soaked hair, pulling her up on top of her. She needed to feel the weight of Beca's body on her, grounding her.
Beca was relentless, her kiss was hungry, and her frenzy was uncontrollable. And Aubrey couldn't nor wanted to control her. Chaos had taken over, and all Aubrey could and wanted to do was surrender, and just let Beca ravage her.
Have your way with me… I'm yours. Aubrey's mind screamed telepathically.
Can you understand the magnitude of that? Beca had said 'I'm yours' long ago, and not once did I consider myself as hers.
I belong to no one!
After that monster, after what he did, I never wanted to be owned again, I wanted to own. But she… she broke through that! Her passion, her lust, her jealousy, and her unabashed love! Made me want to say that! It made me surrender! It made me want to belong to her.
I hated it. It scared me more than I care to admit. The next morning, I just had to leave.
I needed to think. I disposed of the body and in an act of subservience, I cleaned her as she slept. I wiped off the dried blood from her skin. I was horrified, I didn't want her to see me like this, so weak and vulnerable. So when I was done I just had to leave.
After I was able to calm down I realized something, I had to show her… the increasingly confusing, yet pleasant depth of these feelings.
And I knew a date to the Ballet wouldn't be enough this time.
A Gift of Flowers and Ravens
Aubrey led Beca through the winding paths of her estate, feeling a warmth and fear that was new and nerve-wracking. She wasn't used to this—this vulnerability, this openness. But tonight, it was about trying, about showing Beca what she had no clue how to express.
As they approached the large glass and iron structure, Aubrey glanced at Beca, searching her face for any hint of excitement or happiness. She needed this to be perfect, she needed Beca to understand what this meant. Her heart pounded in her chest as she waited, watching.
When Beca's eyes flickered with uncertainty, Aubrey felt her stomach twist with doubt.
"This is…" Beca's voice was quiet, hesitant. "A lot."
Aubrey's eyes widened for a brief second, taking in the scene before them. It was a lot. She'd given Beca a garden, not just a bouquet—a full, intricate, expensive garden. But what else could she have done? How else was she supposed to show her feelings?
She squeezed Beca's hand, forcing a smile. "I know it's a lot. But I wanted to do something for you, something that would make this place feel like home."
Please, let this be enough. Aubrey silently begged Beca to understand the gesture, to see how much she was trying to express. She needed this to be right.
But as Beca hesitated on the threshold, Aubrey's heart sank. She had gone too far, hadn't she? She had overwhelmed Beca with something grand when maybe all she needed was something simpler. The disappointment rose in Aubrey's chest, and she struggled to stay calm, even as a new fear gnawed at her—what if she wasn't enough?
"Aubrey, I don't know the first thing about plants, or flowers."
"Yes, but… this is what one does, right? Give flowers to the one they love?"
Beca turned to her, eyes wide with surprise. "Wait... what did you say?"
Aubrey's smile faded slightly, confusion knitting her brows. "What did I say?"
Beca stepped closer, her breath quickening. "Aubrey, you just said... the ones they love?"
Aubrey let out a soft breath, realizing there was no escape from the truth. Her lips parted as she spoke, quieter than before, her vulnerability showing in full display. "Yes. I did. I... wasn't planning on saying it like that. I just…"
She couldn't bring herself to meet Beca's gaze, afraid of what she might see there, instead she whispered, "I love you."
Instead of the panic or the rejection she feared, she felt Beca step closer, warmth radiating from her. Aubrey's heart raced, caught between hope and fear. She didn't dare look up.
"You love me?" Beca's voice was soft, almost disbelieving.
Aubrey nodded, feeling uncomfortably vulnerable. "Yes. I... I do."
Without warning, she felt Beca's hands on her waist, pulling her closer, and Aubrey's breath caught in her throat. The kiss that followed was slow, soft, and filled with an affection that left Aubrey reeling. When they pulled away, Beca rested her head on Aubrey's chest, and the steady rhythm of her heartbeat was the only sound Aubrey could focus on.
"I love you too," Beca whispered, her voice thick with emotion.
Aubrey let out a soft, relieved laugh, her hand brushing a stray lock of hair behind Beca's ear. "I didn't… umm… scare you away, with all this."
"Scare me?" Beca shook her head, a grin spreading across her face. "Aubrey, this... all of this is a lot, yeah. But it's you. And I wouldn't want it any other way."
Aubrey's heart swelled with relief, the tension in her chest finally beginning to ease. Beca wasn't pulling away. She wasn't rejecting her. She was… accepting this grand gesture, and accepting her.
Beca glanced around at the vibrant garden. "But seriously, I don't have a green thumb."
Aubrey chuckled, the sound a welcome release of the tension she'd been holding. "It's okay. I don't expect you to become a gardener overnight. I wanted to do something special for you. I want you to think of this place as your home."
"You want me to think of this as our home?"
Aubrey nodded, her voice softening. "Yes, you said this place feels too big, too empty, and I just thought… I'm sorry I didn't do this sooner, but this is your home. It's time it felt like it."
Our home. Aubrey watched as those words seemed to settle into Beca. There was a look in her eyes, something almost surprised like she hadn't expected Aubrey to make this kind of gesture. And maybe Beca had thought that after everything, she wouldn't.
But then, a small smile tugged at Beca's lips, and Aubrey felt a flicker of hope. "Aubrey…"
"And there's more. Come with me."
Aubrey led Beca to the aviary, watching as her face lit up at the sight of the ravens.
Beca's smile—it was everything.
For a moment, Aubrey allowed herself to feel hopeful.
She's happy.
As Beca introduced herself to the ravens, laughing at their curious movements. Aubrey sat back on a bench, watching with a mixture of admiration and longing. Beca was so beautiful when she was at peace. When she was happy.
And then, out of nowhere, Beca leaped onto her lap, wrapping her arms around Aubrey's neck with an affection so sudden it nearly took her breath away.
"I've decided," Beca whispered, her breath hot against Aubrey's ear.
Aubrey's heart raced. "Y-You've decided?"
Beca's lips brushed her ear as she whispered, "I've decided that I really, really need to show you how grateful I am right now."
Aubrey felt the tension in her body melt away at those words. She held onto them as Beca kissed her, deep and intense, more passionate than she'd expected. The kiss sent a thrill through Aubrey's entire body.
She wants me.
She loves me.
And I… love her.
The Stolen Kiss
I was happy, scared but happy. As if things couldn't get any better, she dedicated a song just for me. I was so freaked out I couldn't stand still. I wanted to! I wanted to be in the middle of the dance floor for her! Like I once had, but this time it felt so real, so raw. I just found a corner to hide in and had a sip of blood from a flask to try to settle my nerves.
That's when I saw her.
This woman's aura of seduction, of playful danger called to me. The way she moved through the crowd, like a predator stalking prey, reminded me of… me. I tensed before she even reached me, my body already reacting to her approach.
As she got closer, I noticed something disturbingly familiar about the way she carried herself. My breath caught in my throat. The ballerina.
Recognition hit me like a cold gust of wind, cutting through the haze of blood and temptation. I'd seen her before, dancing with that same raw intensity, pouring every ounce of herself into each movement like it was her last. But here, in the darkened club, she was no longer dancing. She was hunting
"You look tense, beautiful," she whispered, and I felt a shiver run through my body, as though her words were more than just sound. I tried to shake it off, ignore it, but the way her lips brushed against my neck sent a spark of fire through me.
I hated that spark. I hated the way I responded to it. This wasn't me. Was it?
My thoughts became tangled. I tried to resist, but my body—traitorous as it was—responded to her touch with an intensity that made me moan despite myself.
How could I be this weak?
Her lips touched mine, sealing something dark and powerful between us. I knew I shouldn't. I knew Beca was nearby. I lost myself.
My instincts took over, my fangs protruded as I pinned her against the wall. My mind screamed at me to stop, but my body was too far gone. I grabbed her, and lifted her arms above her head, feeling the thrill of her submission beneath me, her surrender to my strength.
This both was and wasn't me.
It was confusing, and only one thing was clear, I wanted her. I wanted to tear into her skin, to make her scream for me, to drink her in until we were both lost in the abyss.
Her voice… it was like poison in my ear. "Hurt me if it pleases you." I wanted to hurt her and… if I hadn't seen her, I would have.
Beca, my Raven.
She was watching us. Her eyes, were wide with hurt, with betrayal.
What had I done?
"Beca—" I gasped, panic clawing at my throat as I turned, desperate to reach her.
I pushed past the woman, "Beca! Wait, I can explain!"
Could I though?
I Would Burn a Thousand Times
I still remember it—every agonizing second, etched into my mind like a brand. The moment I heard her scream through our bond, I knew.
I felt Beca slipping away through the bond, felt the terror and desperation in her mind, and I ran. Faster than I ever had before. I didn't care about the sun rising—I didn't care that the moment its light touched my skin, I'd burn.
Nothing mattered except her.
The first rays of sunlight hit me when I was still blocks away. The pain was immediate—like knives cutting into my skin, scorching it right off my bones. I should have stopped. I should have found cover. But I couldn't.
All I could think of was Beca.
I found her in that alley, fighting for her life, trying to tear those iron bars apart with what little strength she had left. I didn't hesitate. I threw myself into the flames for her. My skin, my flesh—it didn't matter. I grabbed those bars and pulled until they snapped. The heat, the fire… God, it was unbearable. I was burning alive, and yet it was nothing compared to the fear of losing her.
I can still hear the sound of my skin sizzling in the sunlight. The smell of it. I can still feel the flames creeping up my arms, spreading like wildfire, but I didn't stop. Even when the pain became too much, even when I knew I wouldn't survive it—I didn't stop.
I don't remember much after I threw her through that window. I hit the ground, and everything went black. I think I screamed. Maybe I cried. All I remember is pain.
And I know pain… I know pain all too well. But this pain was new, it was searing through my very being. The sun's light ate away at my skin, at my soul. I thought I was going to die.
But I woke up, thanks to her.
When I opened my eyes, the first thing I felt was warmth on my lips. It wasn't the sun. It was blood. Fresh, human blood.
And that's when I saw the body lying beside me, lifeless, drained.
My mind raced—Beca had killed for me. The realization hit me harder than any burn ever could. This time it wasn't out of jealousy or possessiveness, she had taken someone's life to save mine.
It felt like my heart shattered into a thousand pieces. How could I let it come to this? How could I be so selfish, so reckless, that Beca had to make such a sacrifice to keep me alive?
She didn't say much—just held me in her arms, looking at me like I was the one broken when it was her heart I had shattered. She fed me and nursed me back to strength, I just wished I saw the love in her eyes I had grown accustomed to. Instead, there was hurt, anger, and maybe. Regret.
And what could I say? Sorry? Sorry for betraying her, for breaking her heart, for turning her into someone who would kill to save me?
There were no words. No apologies that could ever fix this.
I wanted to tell her how much I loved her and I did. I think I even begged. I told her that everything that happened was an accident, a mistake, that I couldn't quite understand.
I'll never forget the way she looked at me when it was all over. The way she held my hand was like she was trying to hold onto something that was already gone.
Maybe I never deserved forgiveness. Maybe I never deserved her love. But even now, after everything, I'd burn again. I'd burn for her a thousand times over if I had to.
But I knew she didn't want me to do that… so instead I would show her. This would have to be something more than a grand gesture, this would have to be something not just for me, or for her but for someone else.
Someone who understood and loved her probably more than I could. I'd do something for Chloe.
A Gesture
"Sit with me?"
Beca gestured to the space on the bench next to her. Aubrey was surprised and moved by the invitation. Feeling a little nervous, Aubrey sat down and sighed.
Instantly Beca grabbed her hand and their fingers intertwined. Aubrey didn't need to read her mind to know what she was thinking. Aubrey knew her Raven was feeling a little bit overwhelmed by this and needed to be grounded.
But what she said was not what Aubrey was expecting. It was a gesture of such magnitude that for a second Aubrey froze.
"Do you... want to say something?" Beca asked quietly.
Beca explained and the reason was sound, Aubrey had done all of this, maybe she wanted to say something, to verbalize that which she can only show. Seeing Aubrey flustered, Beca backtracked but Aubrey could see how important this was for her. "No," Aubrey said, her voice quiet but steady. "I want to do this. I just... I don't know where to start…"
"But that wasn't entirely true. I knew just what to say, because it's what's been on my mind ever since I had this idea. I told Chloe about the first time I think I started to fall in love with her. When she brazenly asked to brush my hair, that moment where Beca wanted to show me the true depth of her feelings. How uncomfortable, and vulnerable she had made me feel.
Maybe I had fallen for her even before that but I don't know. I also wanted Chloe to know how just grateful I was to her, because she was there first. She taught Beca how to love, how to care for someone, and in turn how to love and care for me. And I wanted to promise her that just as she had, I would take care of her. I would love, and protect Beca forever."
The Depth of Brushing Hair and Flowers
"It's strange how rituals become part of us, even when we don't expect them to. I never would have imagined this little act—brushing each other's hair—would become such an integral part of our lives. But here we are, a full year after everything that happened, still holding onto it like it's our lifeline."
That night, I remember waiting for her. The silver hairbrush was already in my lap, and my hair was cascading down my back like it always does. I watched her as she entered our bedroom. She was late—teasingly late.
It's funny, you know?
How we've come so far from where we used to be. There was a time when I wasn't sure if she'd ever look at me the same way again. After everything I put her through, after the betrayal, the pain—I didn't deserve her forgiveness. But Beca, she's... different. Stronger than I ever realized. Maybe stronger than me.
I love her, and I've never loved anyone. So I told her, I just needed to say it. I used to have the hardest time saying now it just felt as natural as breathing.
We stayed like that for a while. Just existing in the quiet, feeling each other's warmth, breathing in sync. I didn't need to read her mind to know something was on her mind. And I knew just what it was. Chloe's anniversary was coming up and she wanted to ask me to be there with her and I would but I wanted to hear her ask.
Old habits die hard I guess.
When I brought it up, I could feel her tense up, and I felt silly, and decided to be reassuring.
Of course I would go. Then to lighten the mood I teased her about brushing her hair more often, she laughed, and said 'that's my job'— the gall of my fledgling.
By the time we crawled into bed, everything felt so natural, so easy. Like this was always how it was meant to be. I held her close, wrapping my arms around her as she relaxed into me, and I whispered to myself, this is it. This is what I had been searching for all those years.
It's hard to describe the peace I feel when I watch her in the garden. It's almost surreal, seeing Beca so at ease, her hands buried in the soil, her face calm, content. It's a far cry from where we were a year ago when everything felt like it was slipping through our fingers. But now, she's here, we're here, and somehow, we've made it.
That garden—it became what I wanted for her, a sanctuary. A home, a place for her to heal, to reconnect with the parts of herself she thought she had lost. I would stand at the entrance sometimes, just watching her move among the flowers, tending to them with such care. It reminded me of how she took care of me.
Getting this for her had been a whim and honestly, I had no idea if she would have even liked it. And I was so relieved and happy that it became something she could pour herself into, and I could see the joy it brought her. The ravens too, became a part of her in ways I never expected.
One day, I asked her if she was happy. I was terrified to ask because what if she said she wasn't?
What if she said she regretted all of this?
But she said she was, and when she started talking about the garden, about how proud she was of what she'd accomplished, I was relieved. I believed her. She had this light in her eyes, this sense of pride that I hadn't seen in a long time. And it made me feel... proud too. Proud of her, proud of the life we'd built in our time together, even if it wasn't perfect.
She'd named the ravens, each one after the things I'd once called her: Beauty, Intelligence, Mystery, Grace. When she told me their names, I had to smile. It was such a Beca thing to do, to turn something like that into a quiet tribute.
But one of the ravens—Intelligence—pecked me. Hard. It caught me off guard, and I tried to laugh it off, but there was a part of me that couldn't shake the feeling that maybe... maybe I hadn't been forgiven. Not completely. The birds knew. Beca knew. There were things that hadn't been said yet, things that still lingered between us. But I pushed it down, smiled, and let the moment pass. I didn't want to ruin what we had, not when we'd come so far.
Part 3: Descent
The Choices
"There are moments when I have to make choices—choices that Beca can never know about, decisions that keep us safe, even if it means keeping secrets."
That night, Aubrey stood by the door, speaking in hushed tones, calculating each word with precision, aware that every syllable could ripple through everything they'd built. She understood the risks. She always did.
Just as the door clicked shut, she heard it—Beca's soft footsteps padding down the hallway. Aubrey's heart stopped for a beat, panic briefly tightening her throat. She turned to face her, quickly schooling her expression into something neutral, something she hoped Beca would recognize as calm and loving. But she could feel the tension lingering in her own shoulders, too rigid, too controlled.
Beca asked who had been at the door. And for the briefest moment, Aubrey hesitated. It was so small, so fleeting, but Beca noticed. Of course, she did. Beca always noticed the smallest things. So, Aubrey lied—a small lie, one she thought necessary. She brushed it off as a Jehovah's Witness, something ordinary, something that wouldn't stir suspicion.
Beca laughed at the joke she made, but Aubrey caught the faint doubt in her eyes. It was subtle, almost imperceptible, but there. That was the hardest part, she realized—the doubt. It was like a tiny crack in the foundation, something Aubrey had to watch carefully, or it would grow.
Aubrey told herself that Beca wouldn't press it, not yet. They'd been through so much together that trust had become almost sacred between them. Yet, as Beca walked back to bed, Aubrey could still feel that faint flicker of doubt trailing in her wake. The question hung in the silence—was Beca beginning to wonder? Could she see through the calm exterior Aubrey had constructed so carefully?
For now, the secret would remain just that. A secret.
She gave me flowers. No one had ever given me flowers. And what do I do? I lied to her. I kept a secret from her….
I remember reaching out and grabbing her wrist without thinking, and when she turned, I saw the concern flash in her eyes.
I wanted to tell her, I should have, I wanted to say, "I'm sorry. I've been keeping something from you, and it's killing me inside." But the words wouldn't come. Instead, I smiled, thanked her for the flowers, and let her go.
I know I'm new to this love… but it made me feel protective.
This is what you do right?
You do whatever you need to do to protect those you love? Even if it means keeping secrets. I know… I know. Famous last words."
A Fall from Grace
"That night should have been about Chloe—about honoring her memory with Beca, as we did every year. But everything spiraled out of control. That secret—the woman—the ballerina… came back."
The night air was cool, sending a slight shiver down Aubrey's spine, but it wasn't the breeze that made her uneasy. She had been standing in front of the mirror, absentmindedly adjusting her clothes, ready to leave for the graveyard with Beca when the door creaked open behind her.
Before she could speak, the ballerina entered the room. She looked different—there was something primal in her eyes, a hunger Aubrey hadn't seen before. It made her nervous, even as she tried to stand tall, reminding herself that she was stronger, that she had Beca. They had a bond that nothing could break. Right?
"You're not going anywhere tonight," the ballerina said, her voice smooth and commanding. The moment she spoke, the room seemed to blur, and all Aubrey could see was her incredible beauty. Something felt wrong. She tried to speak, to demand she leave, but no sound came out. Her racing heart refused to let her.
"You've always wanted this," the woman whispered as she stepped closer, her hand cupping Aubrey's face. Her touch burned—not with heat, but with something more insidious, something dark. It felt wrong, and yet... there was a twisted part of Aubrey, deep down, that responded to it, even yearned for it.
Aubrey's thoughts became tangled, and she couldn't think clearly. "I've always wanted you," she found herself saying, because it felt undeniably true in the moment.
The woman smiled, knowing she had won. Her lips were on Aubrey's before she could stop her, and though Aubrey could have resisted, she didn't. She wanted this. Her hands moved on their own, pulling her closer, running over her skin. Her heart pounded in ways that felt both familiar and horribly wrong. Beca was there in the back of her mind, screaming at her, but Aubrey didn't care.
The door swung open, and the look on Beca's face shattered something inside Aubrey.
"Beca!" Aubrey gasped. Beca was all she could see, and though she wanted to push the woman away, she couldn't move. All she could do was watch in horror as Beca's face twisted in agony, her eyes filled with hurt and betrayal. This couldn't be happening, but Aubrey couldn't stop it.
Before Aubrey could say another word, Beca moved. Fast. That jealous fury, the one that had once made Aubrey's heart flutter, now terrified her.
"Beca, stop," Aubrey tried to say, but her voice was a weak whisper.
"How could you?" Beca screamed, her voice filled with raw emotion. "How could you do this to me? And today of all days!"
Aubrey wanted to explain that she didn't mean for any of this to happen, but the words wouldn't come. She felt so helpless as she watched her raven become consumed with pain and fury. Beca bit into the woman's neck, draining the life from her right before Aubrey's eyes.
"No…" Aubrey whispered. The woman's lifeless body fell to the floor, and the weight of what had just happened crushed her. Beca had killed her—this beautiful, alluring woman that Aubrey inexplicably wanted. It felt like Beca had reached into her toy chest and broken her newest, shiniest toy.
Beca turned to Aubrey, her face stained with tears and blood, her chest heaving with anger and heartbreak. "How dare you," Aubrey heard herself say, her own voice cold and biting.
Beca's eyes met hers, full of confusion, regret, and something darker—fear, maybe. She didn't know what had happened. And Aubrey couldn't explain it. All she could feel was anger.
"How dare you do this... in my house," Aubrey hissed, sharp and unforgiving.
Beca hesitated, her face crumbling with guilt and pain. "I... I didn't mean to..." she whispered, her voice barely audible, but Aubrey wasn't really listening.
"Get out," Aubrey spat, the words leaving her mouth before she could stop them. "Get out of my sight, and don't you dare come back."
She could see in Beca's mind that for a brief second, Beca thought of her garden and her ravens. And Aubrey delighted in robbing her of that.
"No! You leave as you are," Aubrey snapped, her voice dripping with venom. "There's nothing in this house that is yours anymore."
Aubrey saw the pain in Beca's eyes as she turned and fled, her footsteps echoing through the empty halls. The door slammed behind her, and the silence that followed was suffocating.
Aubrey collapsed onto the floor, shaking. The woman's body lay cold and lifeless beside her, but it wasn't the woman's death that haunted her. In fact the woman that had seemed so important a few moments ago was now a distant memory, a blip in the back of her mind.
It was Beca and what she had just done to her.
She pressed her hands to her face, trying to hold back the sobs that threatened to break free. But it was too late.
The Garden of Grief
"I promised to be her safety net, her anchor in this dark world, and I failed her. I betrayed her. And now, I'm more alone than I've ever been. The loneliness I feel now… it's deeper than anything I've felt in decades."
Aubrey's mind was a whirlwind of rage and confusion. Since that night, who knows how long ago, since the betrayal and the bloodshed, she had thrown herself into a frenzy of indulgence. She had fed recklessly, taking what she wanted without thought or care. She had sought solace in the arms of strangers, filling the void with meaningless encounters. But no matter how much she drank, no matter how many bodies she held, the emptiness inside her remained.
The estate was eerily silent as she wandered, her steps unsteady, her vision blurred. Her hair was a tattered mess, and her mouth, neck and chest was covered by her latest prey's blood.
Her heart was heavy with a mix of anger and sorrow, a deep, unrelenting ache that clawed at her insides. She wanted to scream, to tear the world apart, to make it feel even a fraction of the pain she was feeling.
As she moved through the estate, she found herself drawn to a familiar path, one she hadn't walked in weeks. Her feet carried her without thought as if driven by some unseen force.
It wasn't until she reached the entrance to the garden that she realized where she was.
Aubrey stopped, staring blankly at the wrought iron gate. The last time she had been here was with Beca, when the garden was still alive, bursting with color and life. But now… now it was a graveyard. The flowers were wilted, their petals brown and crumpled, the once-lush greenery now a tangled mess of dying vines and overgrown weeds.
"What the hell happened…" Aubrey muttered, pushing the gate open with a trembling hand.
She stepped inside, her heels crunching on the dry, dead leaves that littered the path. The air was heavy with the scent of decay, the sweet perfume of the flowers replaced by a cloying, bitter smell that made her stomach churn. She stumbled forward, her eyes wide with shock and disbelief.
It was all gone. The garden she had gifted to Beca, the one place where her raven had found solace and happiness, was now a desolate wasteland. She had been so consumed by her own rage and grief that she had completely forgotten about it, about everything. Weeks had passed, and she hadn't given it a second thought.
Her heart pounded in her chest, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps. She turned, her eyes darting around the garden, desperately searching for something, anything that was still alive. And that's when she saw it—the aviary, tucked away in the back, hidden behind a curtain of withered ivy.
Aubrey ran towards it, her legs shaking, her mind screaming. She threw open the door and stepped inside, her eyes frantically scanning the enclosure. The air was thick with the stench of death, and the ground was littered with feathers.
Her heart stopped when she saw the bodies. Two of the ravens, Beauty and Talent, lay dead on the ground, their black feathers dulled and matted with blood. They had turned on each other, she realized, their starvation driving them to madness. Only one raven remained—Intelligence, perched on a branch, his eyes dark and hollow.
"No," Aubrey whispered, her voice breaking. "Oh no."
Intelligence let out a low, mournful caw, his eyes fixed on Aubrey. There was a sadness in his gaze, a deep, haunting sorrow that mirrored her own. He hopped down from his perch, moving slowly, cautiously, as if unsure of what to do.
Aubrey reached out a hand, tears streaming down her cheeks. "I'm so sorry," she choked out. "I'm so sorry, I didn't… "
Intelligence didn't want to hear her apologies, it lunged at her, his beak snapping at her hand. Aubrey cried out in surprise, jerking back. The raven's beak had drawn blood, a thin line of red running down her palm.
"Why?" Aubrey whispered, her voice trembling. "Why are you doing this?"
Intelligence stared at her, his eyes sharp and accusing. And in that moment, Aubrey knew. He blamed her. He knew what she had done, how she had betrayed Beca, how she had let her raven slip away. He knew, and he hated her for it.
Aubrey's hand fell to her side, her shoulders slumping in defeat. "I'm sorry," she said again, her voice barely a whisper. "I'm so, so sorry…"
Intelligence cawed again, a harsh, grating sound that sent a shiver down Aubrey's spine. He spread his wings and took flight, soaring out of the aviary and into the night. Aubrey watched him go, her heart breaking all over again.
She fell to her knees, her hands clutching at her hair, her body wracked with sobs. The pain was unbearable, a searing, all-consuming agony. She had lost everything. She had lost Beca, her raven, her love. She had lost herself.
In a fit of rage and grief, Aubrey began to tear at the garden, ripping the dead flowers from the ground, smashing the pots and planters, and tearing down the vines. She screamed, a raw, primal sound that echoed through the night, a sound of pure, unfiltered despair.
"I'm sorry!" she cried, her voice hoarse and broken. "I'm so sorry! Please, come back… please…"
But there was no answer. Only the silence of the night, the empty, hollow silence that pressed down on her like a weight. Aubrey collapsed onto the ground, her body trembling, her heart shattering into a million pieces.
She had been so foolish, so blind. She had let her pride and her desire for control drive her away, and now she was paying the price. She had lost everything, and there was no one to blame but herself.
When her rage had finally drained her she collapsed in the Aviary. Her eyes focused on the sight of the corpse of the Raven Beca had named Beauty. It wasn't beautiful anymore, its feathers lost their shine, their luster. It was an empty husk.
Aubrey finally understood. She didn't want the hedonistic life, the empty, meaningless pleasures. She didn't want to be alone. She wanted Beca. She wanted her Raven back.
But it was too late. She had driven her away, and now she was gone. Forever.
Suddenly, a sharp pain tore through Aubrey's chest. She gasped, clutching at her heart. It was Beca—she could feel her fading, her life force slipping away. "Wait, no," she whispered, her eyes wide with panic. "No, no, no!"
Without thinking, Aubrey bolted from the room, moving faster than any human eye could see. She followed the pull, the bond that still connected her to Beca. She ran through the night, her heart pounding with fear and desperation.
A Raven's Fall
I have seen horrors in my life, some my fault, some humanity's fault. But there was no sight more horrific for me than this one.
I just— I couldn't believe what I was seeing. I could feel my life draining from my body.
There in the mausoleum that I had built for Chloe, was my raven. She was in her coffin, next to the woman's corpse cradling her. Her throat slit.
I didn't know what to do, so I did what I thought was best, I offered her my own blood, I ripped open my own arm and fed her my blood. Sealing the second blood bond.
I probably shouldn't have, I probably should have asked. Hell maybe I have let her have her wish and let her die. But I didn't and It was probably selfish of me.
Here she was doing everything in her power to get away from me, to be with someone else and instead— I pull her back in, and seal our bond even tighter.
I did say that I was, and still am, selfish.
Abandon All Hope Ye Who Enter Here
Aubrey's heart pounded in her chest as she cradled Beca's frail, half-dead body in her arms. Blood stained her skin, both hers and Beca's, mingling in a dark reminder of what she had just done to save her. Again. The second blood bond was stronger and deeper, and as she carried Beca back to the mansion.
The mansion loomed ahead, cold and empty, as Aubrey carried Beca inside, up to the bedroom that had once been their sanctuary. Beca's eyes were open, but vacant, her breathing shallow and labored. She said nothing as Aubrey gently placed her on the bed, her movements slow and careful.
Aubrey knelt beside her, her hands trembling as she smoothed back Beca's hair. "Beca…" her voice was soft, almost pleading. She needed to say something, anything to make things better, but she didn't know how.
Beca's eyes, half-lidded and distant, flickered toward Aubrey, but her voice was flat and detached when she finally spoke. "Can you please just leave me alone?"
Aubrey's heart twisted painfully. She wanted to fight, to argue, to stay by Beca's side and prove to her that she was sorry—that she loved her. But the fear in Beca's voice, the fragility in her words, kept her grounded. Aubrey nodded, swallowing back the tears that threatened to spill over.
"Okay," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "I'll… I'll be right outside if you need anything."
She stood, casting one last glance at Beca, who had already turned her back to her. Aubrey lingered for a moment before leaving the room, her heart heavy with guilt and helplessness. She closed the door softly behind her, leaning against it as silent tears streamed down her face. Inside the room, Beca pulled her knees to her chest and sat in the dark, her body trembling with quiet sobs. Through their blood bond Aurbey could sense that Beca wasn't ready to forgive. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
Sticks and Stones
Days passed. Beca hadn't left the room. She hadn't eaten, hadn't spoken a word. Aubrey tried to care for her, bringing food, sitting by the door, and asking if she needed anything, but Beca shut her out completely. She was a ghost in her own home, haunting the space between life and death.
Aubrey was beside herself. She couldn't fix this, couldn't undo what had been done. Every time she saw Beca curled up on the bed, staring blankly at the wall, her heart broke a little more. She wished she could take it all back, wished she had never let The woman get close, never let her guard down. She wished she could trade places with Beca, and take her pain away.
But no matter how hard she tried, Beca remained locked inside her own mind, unreachable.
One day, after what felt like an eternity of silence, Beca left the room. Aubrey heard the soft creak of the bedroom door and rushed out of the kitchen, her heart leaping with hope. But when she saw Beca, pale and gaunt, heading toward the garden, Aubrey stayed back. She knew Beca needed space, needed time to process everything.
Beca walked slowly, her footsteps heavy and hesitant. She hadn't stepped outside the bedroom in weeks, and as she approached the garden, she felt a flicker of something—an old sense of peace, of belonging. Her birds, her ravens, would be waiting for her. She needed them. She needed something to hold onto.
But as she stepped into the garden, her heart sank. The once-vibrant flowers were wilting, their colors drained and lifeless. Nothing was alive, and the soft kraa of her ravens was nowhere to be heard. Panic seized her chest as she stumbled toward the aviary, her eyes wide with horror.
The ravens—her companions, her lifeline—were scattered around the enclosure, their feathers dull, the life gone from their bodies. She fell to her knees, her breath hitching in her throat as she reached out to them, her hands trembling.
"Grace?" Beca choked out as she cradled one of the raven in her hands. She sobbed, the sound raw and broken, echoing through the silent garden.
The world spun around her, and the weight of everything came crashing down all at once. Chloe's death, Aubrey's betrayal, her own shattered soul, and now… this. The one thing she had left—the one thing she cared for—was gone.
Beca collapsed, her body going limp as the ravens' lifeless forms surrounded her. She felt nothing but a deep, hollow emptiness. She stared off into the distance, her mind retreating into itself, dissociating from the overwhelming pain. She couldn't feel anymore.
Aubrey found her like that, lying in the garden, surrounded by death. Her heart shattered at the sight. She rushed over, kneeling beside Beca's still form, her hands shaking as she gently lifted her from the ground.
"Beca… oh God, Beca," Aubrey whispered, tears streaming down her face as she cradled Beca in her arms. "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry…"
Beca didn't respond. She didn't move. She just stared off into the distance, her eyes dull and lifeless, her mind far away.
Aubrey carried her back to the mansion, her heart heavy with despair. She laid Beca gently on the bed, brushing the hair from her face as she whispered, "I'm so sorry… please, just come back to me…"
But Beca didn't hear her. She was lost, trapped in a place Aubrey couldn't reach her, in her darkness.
As the days passed, Aubrey watched helplessly as the woman she loved drifted further and further away, leaving only the shell of who she once was.
Aubrey sat by her bedside, her head in her hands. She didn't know how to fix this. She didn't know if it could be fixed. All she could do was watch as Beca, her raven, slipped further from her grasp.
Aubrey's hands trembled as she prepared a glass of blood wine. The decanter sat on the counter, its rich crimson liquid swirling in the dim light of the mansion's kitchen. She poured slowly, deliberately, trying to steady herself. The air felt heavy like it was suffocating her, but she had to keep moving. She had to do something.
Beca hadn't spoken in days. Hadn't eaten. Hadn't moved from the bed except to dissociate into the dark void that seemed to swallow her whole. And Aubrey—Aubrey didn't know how to bring her back.
She grabbed the glass, her fingers tightening around the stem as she made her way upstairs to their bedroom. She guessed it was Beca's bedroom now.
When Aubrey entered, she found Beca sitting in the same spot as before, her knees pulled up to her chest, staring blankly at the wall. The room was still, save for the subtle rise and fall of Beca's chest. Her once-bright eyes were clouded with a deep emptiness.
Aubrey's heart clenched painfully. Every step toward Beca felt like walking through thick fog, her own emotions weighed down by the overwhelming sense of failure, of loss. The second blood bond was stronger than the first. She could feel Beca's sorrow, her numbness, her cold detachment as if it were her own. And worse, the bond told her Beca didn't want her there.
"I brought you some blood wine," Aubrey said softly, her voice breaking the oppressive silence of the room. She knelt down beside Beca, placing the glass gently on the nightstand,
Beca didn't move, her gaze still fixed on the wall, her body tense and closed off.
Aubrey placed the glass on the nightstand and sat on the edge of the bed, feeling the weight of the moment pressing down on her. "Beca," she began, her voice faltering, "I'm... I'm so sorry."
Silence.
Aubrey swallowed hard, her fingers knotting together in her lap. She could feel the strain of the bond between them, the hurt and anger simmering just beneath the surface. "I know I wasn't there. I should have been, but—"
"Where were you?" Beca's voice cut through the air, low and quiet, her vocal chords were strained from days of silence, but still sharp enough to stop Aubrey mid-sentence.
Aubrey froze, her throat tightening. "I... I don't know what to say," she stammered, her voice trembling. "I thought—"
"Did you forget?" Beca's voice was quiet, but there was an edge to it that made Aubrey's stomach twist. "Or were you just too busy... getting fucked?"
The words hit Aubrey like a blow. She flinched, her breath catching in her throat as she stared at the back of Beca's head, her heart pounding in her chest. "Beca, I—"
Beca said nothing more. She just lay there, her back to Aubrey, her body still and tense, as if bracing for something.
Aubrey felt her pulse quicken, her voice faltering as she tried to explain. "I didn't know what to do... I thought you were gone forever. I... I lost myself."
Still, Beca didn't respond. She didn't move, or blink. Aubrey's hands shook as she stood, the weight of the silence crushing her. She glanced at Beca one last time, "I'm so sorry."
She turned slowly, walking toward the door, her footsteps heavy with regret. Just as she reached for the handle, she heard Beca's voice, barely audible.
"I hate you."
The words were barely above a whisper, and they were the most painful words Aubrey had ever heard.
She froze in the doorway, her entire body going rigid as the blood drained from her face. Her breath caught in her throat, her heart skipping a beat.
For a second, she didn't want to believe it. Maybe she had misheard. Maybe the words were a figment of her worst fears, playing tricks on her in the dark. But then she felt it—the raw, searing hatred pouring through their blood bond, washing over her like a tidal wave of emotion she couldn't block out.
Beca hated her. The woman she loved more than anything in the world hated her with a depth and intensity that Aubrey could feel in her bones.
Aubrey's eyes widened, her blood running cold. She stood there, motionless, her mind reeling as the bond between them amplified the emotions tenfold. She had never felt anything like this before. It was suffocating, and consuming. Beca's hatred wasn't just a fleeting emotion. It was deep, ingrained in her soul, and now, thanks to the second blood bond, Aubrey could feel every pulse of it.
Aubrey's chest tightened, her vision blurring as tears welled up in her eyes. She wanted to turn back, to say something, to do anything, but the weight of Beca's hatred was too much. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't think. She could only feel—feel the cold, empty space where their love had once been.
Without another word, Aubrey stumbled out of the room, her hands trembling as she closed the door behind her. Her body felt numb, her mind racing with confusion, with pain, with disbelief. She made her way down the hall, but she couldn't focus on where she was going. The only thing she could hear was Beca's voice echoing in her head.
"I hate you."
It was warranted. It was justified. And yet, Aubrey couldn't bear it. The weight of those words, combined with the raw, visceral emotion that pulsed through their bond, left her hollow and broken.
She collapsed against the wall in the hallway, sliding down until she was sitting on the cold floor, her head in her hands. Silent tears streamed down her face, her body shaking.
How had it come to this?
How had everything fallen apart so completely?
Is this what being in love was?
Suffering?
Aubrey's mind was spinning, her thoughts a jumbled mess of regret, guilt, and hopelessness. For the first time since she left that monster all those decades ago, Aubrey wished for death.
To be continued….
Author's Note: This was a fun and complex one to write. I love Aubrey so I just had to have her tell her side of the story you know.
What do you think of Aubrey now? Did you like it? What was your favorite scene?
Please comment, they heal my soul. Thank you so much for reading! It means the world to me!