Chapter Text
He doesn't know how long he's been here, time blurring together.
He finds himself staring at the torch lit just across the way, bathing the empty cells across from him in yellow light. He wonders how many other vampires have laid here and stared at the same exact thing, wondering anything and everything, mulling over worse pain that their darkstones couldn't fix. His back still hurts, but it has shifted into a dull sort of ache that echoes in tune with the same feeling from his mouth. He pokes at the empty spots with his tongue, unsurprised to taste blood still when he does.
The way his aunt, the Eldress, had looked at him before turning and leaving without another word still haunted him, replaying over and over again. He never thought they would get to such a point where he wasn't sure if she would come back for him or leave him to rot.
Did she even still see him as family? Or just another vampire to punish?
With a groan Victor lifts himself up, climbing onto unsteady legs. The beginnings of a headache start in the corners of his skull as he does, and he tries to brush it away as he drags himself over to the bars, rattling the door to his cell for good measure.
They don't budge.
He sighs and takes in the room beyond. The dungeons have always been dull, dark and dank. Definitely not the best place for a vacation, for as much as he's found himself thrown in here, and his eyes catch on the small bundle of rats huddled in the corner. There was a bone there once, he thinks he remembers, but it's gone now and replaced by discarded metal. The rats scurry around it like they'll be able to find food hidden within. Victor almost pities them.
Each cell is mostly the same, though some hold empty steel chains hanging from the wall over what one could barely call a cot dragged into a corner. He glances over his shoulder and is unsurprised that chains stare back at him. Figures.
There are only two torches for the entire room, one directly across and one hanging on the back wall to the left. The entrance to the room comes from the right and stretches into a long, musty hallway before abruptly cutting off into a staircase. When Victor turns and cranes his head to look down the hallway, he can see a ring of keys hanging from a jagged stone beside the stairs, just a bit too far out of his reach.
"So much for breaking out," he mutters dejectedly to himself with a roll of his eyes. No wind currents reached him down here either, which meant he was as good as stuck until someone came to get him. Maybe his aunt really would leave him and not look back.
With another exhale, Victor walks over to the wall and takes a seat, resting against it. The chains clink when he readjusts and accidentally hits one, and he closes his eyes, hoping the hunger won't be as bad as last time.
No one comes back for him, and Victor thinks that's fitting. Of course his aunt would sign him up for a course in vampire torture and then forget all about him.
He finds himself pacing circles around the cell. He wonders if he'll wear a path into the cobbled floor after a while, and then shoves that thought away and moves onto a better one, like the girl he's seen for a better part of a year.
It had started small at first, little glimpses into a different life that he was barely able to connect unless he was paying attention. But then he started noticing the different symbols and brighter colors, the twist of her hair. The sound of her voice, stars atop twilight.
He slows to a stop, twisting his fingers together. He had drawn her, just before everything happened. He had left the half-finished drawing in the middle of his desk back at home, tucked under a book of vampire law and order. He wonders if his aunt has riffled through his room yet, like she's done a thousand times over, demanding respect.
He hopes she hasn't found it and ripped it to shreds.
There's a loud bang in the distance that makes him jump, followed by sounds of shuffling and haughty voices. They grow closer, and then he hears boots stomping down steps. A part of him nearly moves closer to the front bars of his cell to get a better look of whatever it is that's coming, but he thinks better of it and moves back instead, putting enough distance between him and the metal.
He watches silently as the vampires from before round the corner, dragging a young girl along with them. Victor might not know just how long he's been in here, but he knows there wasn't anyone else in town awaiting their own punishment in the stocks when they hauled him out into the street. There especially wasn't anyone as young as him, but there's something about her that feels inherently different.
Her hair for one, bright as the sun he's never seen. Her clothes, white and red and golden, scuffed with spots of dirt. Her face -
"Brought you a friend, Victor," the younger vampire says, sounding almost excited by the prospect. Victor watches from the back of his cell as the vampire shoves the girl into the cell beside his own, smirking when she trips and falls onto the ground. He slams the door shut after her, locking it with a rattle of the key ring before shooting a sneer towards Victor. "I guess you're no better than a daywalker now."
The older vampire chuckles, crossing his arms. "Leave them, Vaughn. I've heard the Eldress already has plans for them both." Vaughn rolls his eyes but listens, stepping away while the older vampire's eyes fall to Victor, speaking directly to him. "She's not happy with you."
"She never is," Victor throws back from the dark shadows of his cell.
"You're supposed to lead us, Victor."
Victor scoffs, unable to help himself. "I refuse to lead like this."
Vaughn looks like he wants to say something, but the older vampire stops him with a hand on his shoulder, turning them both towards the staircase without another word. Victor watches them go with narrowed eyes, something hot burning in his chest.
He listens to their footsteps until there's another loud bang in the distance and he can't hear them anymore before turning towards his new cellmate. She's already picked herself up from the floor, brushing off her pants as though it will mean something in the long run. He watches her for a long moment, before stepping closer.
“Are you okay?” he asks, eyes flickering across the specks of gold tangled in her hair.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” she replies almost on instinct, her tone surprisingly light. “I’ve had worse tumbles.”
Before he can register what that might mean, she steps towards the cell bars, and he can feel his throat close up upon seeing her face, the world around him grinding to a halt.
It’s her.
“It’s...you,” she whispers in disbelief, squinting in the dim light as she moves closer to the bars separating them. His mind whirls upon hearing her echo his thoughts, but he’s cut off when she speaks again.
“You’re a daywalker?” she asks, and Victor’s stomach turns at the excitement in her voice.
“No,” he starts, and her face falls in disappointment. Guilt stabs at him and he shoves it away before it can take hold of anything greater. "They're just trying to get under my skin." He hesitates, nearly deciding against it, wondering if she'll recoil or scream or scramble to the other side of her cage trying to get away from him, before reaching up and tugging carefully at the corner of his lip, revealing the gaps in his teeth where his fangs used to be.
The action still isn't soft enough for his tender skin, and blood is pooling again before he can stop it. The girl's eyes widen in concern as he turns away and spits blood onto the stone, and when he turns back, she is closer to the bars, both hands curling around the metal as though she can bend them apart herself.
“You’re bleeding,” she breathes, the worry in her voice tugging at his heart. Her eyes flicker across his face, and he watches as they jump from his eyes to the old scar that rests on the bridge on his nose. “How long have you been in here?” she asks quietly, far too carefully, like she's afraid she'll step across the wrong line and shatter the moment between them.
How long has he been in here?
Every time he tries to think about it, he finds he has no starting point to begin with, not in a place without windows or doors to the outside. The wounds in his mouth are still tender enough that Victor knows it has to not have been long enough for anything to begin to mend back together, and yet his back was in better shape than it was the last time he had seen those two.
"I don't know," he answers honestly. “It’s hard to judge how time passes down here.” He offers a small laugh, thinking maybe she'll share it with him. She doesn't, but the worry knotted between her brows still stays, and that alone startles him.
She hadn't cowered either, when he had revealed what he really was. Maybe she didn't think he was a threat, since he was locked up the same way she was. Maybe she just didn't care what he was, but he found that hard to believe in a world like this one.
“Aren’t you in pain?” she whispers, and he moves closer then, able to feel the heat that radiates from her skin as he wraps his own hand around the metal. He takes in the shine of her eyes, the kindness of her soft smile, everlasting even as the rest of her hovers around uncertainty.
“Not really,” he lies easily, not wanting to add to her worries. He would much rather make her laugh, he thinks abruptly, or watch the way her lips pull into a full smile. “Are you okay?”
“You already asked me that,” she teases, something playful dancing in her eyes for a moment before they somber again. “But yes, I'm fine." A small pause that drags long enough that he raises an eyebrow in question. "Well, as much as I can be," she admits, before turning the topic back onto him. "I’m more worried about you. If you leave a wound open long enough without care, it won’t heal correctly."
Her statement leaves him confused, even as something else he doesn't know how to name cracks through the center of his chest. “Why?" He asks, voice more guarded than it was a moment ago. There's a different voice in his head that tells him she's been placed there to trick him, that she will reach over and rip out the rest of his teeth as soon as he lays down to sleep. "You don’t even know me.”
As he says it, though, he knows it’s a lie. The recognition in her face, mirroring his own, spoke enough for them both. He shoves the darker thoughts away into a dark corner where he will not hear from them again. They sound like the Eldress' voice, haunting his every waking moment.
“This might sound crazy," the girl says, "but...I’ve been having these...visions of you.” Her voice lowers into a whisper by the end, like she's afraid to speak it into existence. "I think." Another pause, a duck of her head as she looks down at the ground before looking back up. "I think it's...it's you."
Victor feels his chest tighten in a way that tells him he's in over his head. But he's not afraid. He doesn't think he could be. “Well, we must both be insane," he murmurs, "because I’ve been having visions of you, too.”
The girl blooms like a flower in spring, or at least what he thinks one would look like. It's like a weight is pulled from her shoulders, freeing her, her smile blinding, the corners of her eyes crinkling in a way that tells him she could never be anything other than a ray of sunshine on a cloudy day.
He grins. Ignores the way the motion tugs at his gums. "Victor," he introduces himself, gently sliding one hand through the bars, palm open. The girl waits a moment before slipping her hand in his own and shaking his with a small laugh.
"Nova," she greets, and they both linger where they should pull away. "I'm sorry that you're stuck down here with me." She draws her hand back, leaving his open and cold once more. "A daywalker." With the way the name falls from her lips, he would think she was a vampire in disguise.
He shakes his head anyway, eager to reassure her. "You're the best company I could ask for," he dismisses. "Now that you're here I can officially call this a vacation for two." Nova's lips tug into another small smile at that, and Victor takes it as a victory. "When's the last time you slept? Your suite comes with a bed."
He nods his head towards the pitiful excuse of a cot sitting in the far corner of her cell, smiling slightly. Nova follows his gaze and looks it over for a moment before turning back to him, her eyes scanning his own cell. "You don't have anywhere to sleep?" she asks, sounding far too upset for his liking.
He shakes his head, already pulling back and moving towards the corner. He takes a seat with an exaggerated groan, even going as far as stretching his arms above his head. Nova watches him with her arms crossed, though she's unable to hold back her amused smile.
"Compared to the coffin I sleep in at home, this place is like the Bahamas, trust me. I like being able to roll around."
Nova shakes her head like she doesn't believe him but plays along anyway, making her way over to her cot and taking a seat. The metal chains holding it up creak at the added weight but hold steady as she adjusts until she is as comfortable as she can be, laying on her side with one arm tucked underneath her cheek as she faces his way.
He looks back at her, crooked smile and all, but it softens once he sees just how her mask crumbles, finally put away. She looks small. Scared, even as she still tries to hide it, and Victor knows that even if he can do nothing else, he will keep her safe. He doesn't care why she's here, only that she makes it back out, with or without him at her side.
"I'll keep watch," he tells her, steadier than he feels. "Sleep, Nova."
Something shifts in her gaze. Fragile. He almost misses it. "Are you sure?"
"Yes," he says. "Promise."
He doesn't know what makes it enough for her, but she finally gives a small nod and her eyes slip shut soon after; Victor listens to her breathing until it evens out into a steady rhythm that tells him she has fallen asleep. He still watches her even then, and finds himself listening to the thrum of her heartbeat, and smiles to himself when he thinks of it like counting sheep over a fence, not that it ever worked before, when it was him alone in a room cold enough to freeze him still.
Attention shifting back to Nova, he exhales.
He can't help but wonder how a daywalker would end up this far from their home, let alone be dragged down to the dungeon without much of a fight. Either the vampires had threatened much worse, or she knew better than to test their patience.
He's glad she didn't get hurt, either way. He doesn't want her to get hurt, and he's already worrying about what will happen if the Eldress is the next to appear in front of him, looking at him with the same look she had after she had ordered her soldiers to rip his fangs free.
He thinks back to what the older vampire had said. How Victor was meant to lead.
Victor was meant to lead them someday, but he was never going to lead them with the same intention as the Eldress, who ruled with an iron fist. He was never going to be as harsh, or as cruel, or as easily attracted to the idea of beating one into talking instead of just asking.
Nova's chest rises and falls. Victor counts her heartbeat.
Time drags on.