Chapter Text
'We know that Christ, being raised from the dead, will never die again; death no longer has dominion over him.'
- Romans 6:9
It seemed as if the heavens themselves were in mourning, for the icy rain just kept coming.
The sky had been thrown in perpetual darkness, no way of telling night from day.
It had come in droves for days now, washing away everything in its wake that wasn’t tied down.
This was all well and good to the man as he traveled, soaked to the bone, through the forest surrounding the village; the worse the weather was, the better his plan would work.
The foliage surrounding the village and across the mountains was hard to walk through on clear and beautiful days, but today it was nigh on impossible, for the mud was thick and stuck to one’s boots but the man was undeterred. He had a job to do after all.
It was a shame the man had to do this at all, he was hoping for a cleaner and admittedly, less dangerous way of dealing with this but what was done was done.
“And all for something as silly as whatever gods one worshipped,” muttered the man as he walked. “How incredibly….mortal.”
The man continued to walk through the forest all night as the storm raged on, but the man paid no mind to the storm. To an outsider it would seem as if the rain did not affect the man at all. The outsider would be correct, he was not affected by something as benign as a storm.
In fact, the man was not affected by much at all. Not until recently.
No, now the man was affected by something quite deeply and that was why he was trudging through the mud in a storm.
Finally, though, the man’s journey through the forest came to a close. He had found what he was looking for.
Something so simple, sitting there, erected in the ground. When looking objectively at what the man sought, one might think what a stupid thing it is to be walking around in the dark of the forest while a storm was raging on, looking for what was only two pieces of wood tied together to form the Christian cross. But to the man, it was so much more than that.
It was Athelstan’s grave.
Athelstan, the companion of the King Ragnar Lothbrok, and recently deceased by the hand of the one called Floki.
The man made a note to himself to kill Floki after he was done with his business. It was his fault that the man was in this predicament in the first place and the man so hated to be inconvenienced by a mere mortal .
The man sat down, in the mud, and shouldered off his satchel. He tied the poor, frightened goat he’d been pulling along with him in this storm to the makeshift cross and quickly set to work. He knew that goat would not hold to that post for long and he needed her for his ritual.
The man pulled out some henbane, hemlock, saffron, aloes, mandrake and opium, and crushed the ingredients up into a small wooden box with a lid on it so when he burned it, the rain would not put it out. He also added some twigs from the forest into the box. Then, he quickly went to work setting fire to the mixture, angling his tattered cloak from around his body to cover his work so nothing was put out.
It took him many tries, almost to the point where he thought he'd give up and try again another day, one less rainy, but it finally lit and the mix began to burn and give off a deep, rich, almost hazy smell.
Satisfied, the man sat the wooden box down and turned to his satchel to retrieve his last needed items.
The first item he pulled out was a very old and worn scroll, which today’s scholars would mark as being produced in pre-Biblical times. It held secrets that were lost to the world today.
The last item the man brought out of his satchel was a dagger. He unsheathed it from it’s carrier; it was very sharp, with a jagged edge. It was of an impressive size, but old and made of bronze. There were once many rubies set into the handle but some had chipped away with age.
Upon seeing the jagged dagger, the goat tied to Athelstan’s grave began to panic so the man quickly undid the scroll and grabbed the rope which held the goat, pulling with seemingly supernatural strength. He held the goat directly over where Athelstan was laid to rest and began speaking in an ancient language, long since lost to man.
The skies hurled thunder as the man spoke in this ancient language and thunderbolts slashed through the sky as he stopped speaking and held the dagger aloft. In one quick move, the man slit the goat’s throat and spilled its red life’s blood over the grave. The goat quickly succumbed to its death and fell over onto the ground.
Once the goat had died, the man picked up the scroll and began to speak those secret words, loud and demanding. He repeated the words several times, louder and louder, until his powerful voice was screaming.
Finally, the man once again took up the bloody dagger and brought his left palm over the grave. Speaking those words for the last time, softer now, he sliced open his palm and poured his blood over the grave.
Lighting flashed in the sky, thunder rolled and the winds were howling but the man paid no mind. He just sat there, muddy and wet and covered in blood, and waited.
The wait felt like an eternity to the man, but in truth it was only a few minutes, for soon the ground beneath the grave began to shift. It was as if something or someone was pushing up from below the earth, causing disturbances in the ground.
Lightning flashed again, angry in the sky, when at long last, what the man had been waiting for - a hand popped out from underneath the grave. A male hand.
It was Athelstan’s hand.
The man watched as Athelstan began pulling himself from his own grave. He was screaming in pain.
The man thought nothing of Athelstan’s screams, that was to be expected with a transformation so dangerous.
Finally, Athelstan, still half enwrapped in his makeshift coffin of white cloth, pulled himself out of his grave fully and began to tear at his wrappings. He was still screaming in agony and what seemed to be sorrow too.
Athelstan writhed on the ground as he tore away the white cloth he was buried in, to reveal his naked body underneath except for that of a loincloth which covered only his most private parts.
The man who raised Athelstan from the grave just sat back and watched, entranced by this man’s screams of pain and sorrow as he ripped away his wrappings.
After a while, Athelstan’s screams died down to whimpers.
He felt torn apart .
Ripped away from somewhere familiar but he could not place it.
Those thoughts fell away as he became aware of….everything.
Athelstan was seeing colors that he’d never seen before. He was hearing the sounds of the forest, all echoing in his ears and he found, if he focused long enough, that he could pinpoint an exact sound, like the heartbeat of a doe hundreds of yards away.
He was also aware of the man sitting before him but he was too preoccupied with everything else that he could not acknowledge him.
Athelstan was still unable to form coherent thoughts at this point, all that was going through his head was that everything felt wrong .
Not being able to help himself, Athelstan sniffed the air before turning to the man. Years later, Athelstan still could not be able to pinpoint what exactly it is he smelt on this man except that it was powerful .
The man, once he was finally acknowledged by Athelstan, smiled delightfully and opened his mouth to speak.
“Athelstan! How marvelous it is for you to join me, waiting here has been dreadful in this torrential rain!” said the man.
Athelstan gazed at him, confused by who or what the man was.
Athelstan, with clearing blue eyes, began to study the man. He was different than Athelstan, skin tan where Athelstan was white. He had dark brown hair that curled around his ears and brown eyes. The man also had an accent, that of which Athelstan had never heard. His worst feature, however, was his wicked smile; Athelstan did not like his smile.
The man was drenched in the cold rain but he did not seem affected. In fact, as Athelstan felt the sleet hit his naked body, he felt no cold.
He felt…animalistic, in the way he was studying the man, tilting his head from side to side but he could not stop himself. He felt out of control and a growing hunger was rising in him.
The man was unfazed by Athelstan’s actions and continued to speak, “I’m sorry to have kept you waiting, it took me hours to get through this mud! It would've been simpler to track you with a clear blue sky but, sadly, the spell works better in harsher conditions.”
Athelstan looked up slowly at the man, confused, and ground out, “ S-spell ?”
The man chuckled lightly to himself and said, “Forgive me. I forget that you don't who I am, which is humorous, for I know everything about you. My name is Eli and I have come to save you.”
Athelstan looked at the man, Eli , confused and breathed out, “S-save me? I-I was per-perfectly fine be-fore —be…fore…” Athelstan froze in horror, as he began to understand what had happened. With great trepidation, he turned slowly around and saw it.
His grave marker.
Athelstan felt himself pant with panic and terror as he realized what had happened.
He died.
Floki killed him.
Someone — Ragnar —buried him.
And now...someone...brought him back.
But—he didn't feel the same. He felt stronger than he ever had in his life and more powerful, but he also felt dangerous, as if he was about to lose control at any moment.
Athelstan turned back to Eli, still panting even though he now realized he didn't need the air, and spit out, “What—did—you— do —to—me?”
Eli smiled, his unnaturally white teeth gleaming in the rain, and said, “I told you. I saved you. Raised you from the dead and turned you into something else! Something… more .”
Athelstan stopped panting, “You raised me from the dead ?!” A growl rumbled deep in his throat unexpectedly.
Eli raised up his palms in a sort of halting motion and said, “Please. There is no need to be angry. I have made you better, better than you ever were as a mortal.”
Athelstan was confused once again, “If I’m not human, then what am I ?”
“A demon.” stated Eli, calmly as if his words did not just crush Athelstan’ very soul.
Athelstan felt horrified once more. Franticly, he began muttering a prayer, praying that God would save him from this hell. He reached for the comfort of his golden cross around his neck but it was not there! He felt so lost without his cross, it always gave him comfort in troubling times but now it was gone, so he prayed harder for salvation. But none came. Only the howling of the wind and the rain against his face.
Eli watched the former’s priests prayers with amusement. There was nothing that could save Athelstan now. He knew God would never answer the prayers of those chosen to be strigi .
Athelstan was damned.
Athelstan looked at Eli again, his long brown hair dripping in his face and said, “But why ?”
Eli looked at Athelstan, confused by his words and said, “ Why ? Because I wanted to and I could. You are quite special you know. Special to many…”
A look of fresh terror came across Athelstan’s face as he whispered, “ Ragnar… ”
Before he could utter more words, the hunger pains in his stomach took a violent turn and Athelstan pitched over to clutch his stomach, moaning in pain.
Eli gasped, “Of course! You are hungry. Every strigi is, especially in the beginning.”
He picked up the dead goat and thrust it into Athelstan’s face and said, “Here! I know it’s not much but it should be enough to sustain you until we come across the next village. That’s where the real fun will begin!”
Athelstan stared at the dead goat in his face and moaned out, “I—have to—eat it?”
Eli laughed lightly, finding Athelstan’s confusion quite entertaining, and said, “No young one, you must drink her blood—or what’s left of it anyway.”
Athelstan was horrified at the thought of drinking blood. It was forbidden in the Holy Book.
But was God even watching him anymore, after everything that had happened?
However, the longer Athelstan stared at the dead goat, with her blood still seeping out of the wound, the greater he felt the pull to—to drink.
Athelstan had tried to fight the urge, stave it off. He did not need to drink that goat’s blood. He was not going to succumb to his demon side but the pain grew, stronger and unbearable.
His stomach felt as if it was burning from the inside out. This deep darkness began to cloud his senses as the pain became too much and all he could see was the blood.
Athelstan screamed in pain as the urge to fight it was too much; he felt two of his teeth grow into elongated fangs and, with immense pain as he fought without prevail, he leaned his head down into goat’s bloody wound and began to drink.
The goat’s blood was the most glorious thing Athelstan had ever tasted.
It tasted rich with power .
He drank and he drank, feeling drunk on this power.
He needed more.
More!
Too soon, however, the blood flow stopped. Athelstan, in a desperate, animalistic flurry, began licking the blood that seeped into ground. He was overtaken with a desperate need to drink all of the blood. As if it could never be enough.
Eli watched this display with growing glee. If Athelstan gave over to bloodlust like that often, things could be very interesting for Eli and it had been exceedingly dull for far too long.
“Okay, that’s enough, Athelstan. I believe you've licked up all the blood from the mud,” Eli chuckled and raised himself up from the ground. Then he turned to Athelstan and offered his hand.
Athelstan resisted a little, still wanting to taste the blood, but Eli grabbed his arm and pulled him up with ease.
“Come, walk with me to the nearest village. There we can feast!” Eli wrapped his arm around Athelstan and began pulling him away.
Athelstan tried to back away, shaking his head in the rain, “N-no, I’m not g-going with you.”
Eli stopped and turned to him, confused, “Not go with me, are you mad? Who else will help you to find your way, in this new life.”
Athelstan shook his head, “This is not a way to live.”
Eli’s face grew hard, “It is an honor to be changed like this. You have no idea the gifts you now possess, being raised from the dead. You have no idea the power you now hold in your body. You have been given this honor, don't try to throw it away.”
“This feels like a curse , a damnation! God has forsaken me, and left me here in this hell!” Athelstan raged, anger bubbling deep within his chest. He pushed Eli away from him in disgust in a moment of incredible strength Athelstan had never experienced before .
Eli huffed with impatience. This was not how his plan was supposed to go.
Faster than even Athelstan’s new eyes could see, Eli was gripping the back of Athelstan’s neck and whispering in his ear, “Careful now. No need to test me. I am the Chosen of the First One and if He finds out you dishonored me, He could make your new life very uncomfortable.”
“What? Kill me ? I’m begging for it,” Athelstan ground out in pain.
Eli laughed and increased the pressure on Athelstan’s neck, “What? Kill you? Ho dull! No, He’d just kill everyone you’ve ever loved and make you watch! Then make you live, forever , in this, how you say, cursed life, knowing you caused their horrible deaths! Now, would you like your precious Ragnar to die an unfortunate death—“
Athelstan snapped his head to meet Eli’s and said, “You will not. Harm. Ragnar”
Eli knew he had Athelstan now.
“Of course, my friend. As long as you come with me.” Eli smiled, all traces of anger gone from his face in an instant.
Athelstan felt a moment’s conviction before steeling himself and allowing for Eli to lead him away.
Athelstan and Eli walked through the forest all night, Eli filling the air with mindless chatter once the rain had stopped. Athelstan did not say a word. He loathed Eli for what he had done to him and hoped to never have to speak with him again.
It wasn't until dusk that they came across a village, one similar to Kattegat, only smaller and not situated by the sea.
“Come, my friend. We must find a place for you to stay this morning. I am afraid to tell you but you cannot be out in the sunlight long—or at all, for that matter.” whispered Eli as the came to a halt outside the nearest hut.
“Why?” whispered Athelstan.
“Because it will burn you, Athelstan.” said Eli.
“Will it kill me?” Athelstan asked, with a slight hopeful tone in his voice.
“Yes it will, but don’t go making any plans to kill yourself. If you die, your friends die, understand?” Eli’s voice turned dark from the cheerful note it was moment’s ago.
Athelstan nodded his head, dejected.
Never in his life has ever felt so powerful and powerless at the same time. Even when he was with Ragnar—
No.
No need to think about him anymore.
Eli leaned his head against the wall of the hut and listened a moment before saying, “A couple. Both still asleep, although it seems the man is showing signs of waking up, good.”
“Why do you want him to be awak—wait, how do you know all that? Just by listening?” Athelstan couldn't help but be a little fascinated, even in his current situation.
“Aye, and you will learn too, soon. But first, we feast.” Eli smiled another wicked smile and before Athelstan could ask what he meant by “feast”, Eli dashed away to the door of the hut at an alarming speed.
Athelstan stared a moment at where Eli was standing last before walking, normally, to where Eli was. He was knocking on the door.
“Who in all of Midgard would be knocking at my door at this hour?” grumbled the man within the hut.
After a moment, the door opened to reveal a man, who was half undressed.
He looked at Eli and Athelstan, unimpressed, “What do you want?”
Eli smiled his most charming smile, “Forgive me. My friend and I have been traveling and came across this village. We were wondering if you had any spare clothes, my friend’s here got ruined in the rain.”
The man looked at Athelstan, who was still only wearing his loincloth. Athelstan smiled nervously; what exactly was Eli doing?
“I don't just give away clothes for free!” the man began closing door until Eli pushed it back, fully open, with his supernatural strength.
“Wha-” the man barely got any words out until his eyes met Eli’s and--
“You are going to invite my friend and I inside the house now, you understand?” Eli spoke very slowly, without breaking eye contact with the man.
The man nodded dumbly, entranced, before saying, “Of course. Why don't you and your friend come inside?”
Eli smiled deviously, “Thank you, my friend.”
Then, to Athelstan’s horror, he slashed the man’s throat with his nails. Blood came pouring out of the man and Athelstan backed away as the man collapsed to ground, dying. He tried to ignore that overpowering smell of blood .
“What did you do that for?” Athelstan demanded.
“We needed an invitation to go inside his house, Athelstan. We got one, so I had no further use of him,” with that, Eli glided past the man and into the home, where his wife still slept in the bed.
Athelstan stayed outside for a moment, watching with odd fascination as the man took his last gasping breaths of air.
“Oh Athelstan?” Eli called from inside. “Do bring him inside, I don't want any unwanted visitors .”
Athelstan sighed before doing what he was told. He dashed away from the blood still coming out of the man's neck, very tempted to do something but he had just enough strength from the goat’s blood to ignore smell as he dragged the man by his ankles inside the hut. He quickly shut the door after dragging the man inside and turned to face Eli.
What he saw made his stomach turn.
Eli was holding the now awake and whimpering wife by the back of the throat. He had just pulled her from her bed.
“So good of you to join us Athelstan!” laughed Eli as he gripped the wife’s neck harder and crushed her to him. “Do I have to do everything for you boy? Come, eat with me.”
Athelstan stared at him and the woman, “You cannot possibly mean—“
Eli rolled his eyes, “Yes, Athelstan. You must. It is the only way for you to live.”
“I told you I’d sooner die!” yelled Athelstan.
Eli flew a hand up in warning, “Now now now, Athelstan. No need to bring the other villagers into this, unless you want to massacre them all, in which case—“
“No!” shouted Athelstan.
Eli turned his head in warning.
“I mean, no,” whispered Athelstan. “I won’t kill that woman, Eli .”
“But you have to, in order to survive.”
“I don’t want to survive this. I wish to die again and be rejoined with God in Heaven.”
Eli scoffed and the woman he held by the neck whimpered loudly, “God?! You think God would accept you now? Now that you’ve been brought back as a strigi ? I thought you wise, Athelstan.”
Athelstan felt as if he had been burned by those mere words alone.
Eli was right.
Athelstan had no place in Heaven now, for he had broken one of the divine rules: do not drink the blood of those who had been living or of those who are alive .
Eli saw Athelstan’s features change to those of reluctant acquiescence and held out the woman to Athelstan, “Now, drink Athelstan. Drink and let the power be yours.”
Athelstan stared at the woman’s neck, being quickly overpowered by the bloodlust as he began to hear her the beat of her pounding heart, pumping her body full of rich blood. He didn't know how he was able to resist the man’s blood, maybe he was still in shock, but now--
Athelstan walked closer to the woman, as if in a trance, but stopped himself halfway. He raised his eyes to Eli and said solemnly, “If I do this, and follow you, you vow to never harm my friends or family?”
Eli gazed into Athelstan’s eyes and nodded once, “I promise.”
Athelstan still did not trust Eli, not even the slightest bit, but he had no choice but to take him at his word or his family would be killed.
Athelstan thought if he even had a heart left to break, it was now in pieces, as he gravely walked to the frightened woman in Eli’s hold.
“I’m so sorry,” Athelstan whispered, holding back tears he wasn't even sure he could shed.
His fangs elongated once more and he plunged them into the woman’s neck.
She tasted better than the goat.
Athelstan wondered if this was what Gods felt like, as this intense wave of pleasure and sheer power rushed through him as her blood pulsed into his mouth.
He must have seemed desperate again, as he sucked on her neck, for Eli laughed a little before moving the dying woman’s blonde hair behind her and plunging his fangs onto the other side of her neck.
With both of them feeding on the woman, Athelstan could not help but think that this was incredibly intimate. Both of them experiencing this rush of power and pleasure through their bodies. Athelstan wanted to pull away but couldn’t, the siren’s song of the last drops of the woman’s blood too tantalizing.
Soon, however, the woman’s dying whimpers silenced.
Athelstan pulled back as if he’d been burned once the blood flow stopped, realizing what he had just done.
Eli let out a long satisfied moan as he let go of the dead woman’s neck, before tossing her lifeless body to the floor.
“Much better, do you not agree Athelstan?” Eli asked as he wiped the lingering blood from his mouth.
Athelstan did not answer. He was currently wiping furiously at the edges of his mouth, to remove all evidence that what happened, actually happened.
Eli seemed to not notice Athelstan’s silence, for he continued on, “And how incredibly irresponsible of me! I raised you, but I haven’t clothed you! I mean, here you’ve been, walking through the rain and forest in a loincloth! Forgive me Athelstan.”
Athelstan was startled by Eli’s words, and stopped scrubbing at his mouth, “I—“
Eli cut him off, “But no matter. This man—“ he indicated to the dead man laying on the floor, blood pooling around him, “seems about your size, just take his clothing.”
Athelstan looked at Eli, incredulous, “S-steal his cl-clothing?”
“Of course! He won’t mind, he’s dead.”
Athelstan inwardly flinched at his words.
Once again, Eli was right. In a twisted sort of way.
The man was dead. It was Eli who killed him. And then Athelstan helped kill his wife.
The guilt was beginning to eat at Athelstan.
Eli was getting impatient. This “holding onto his humanity” act was quickly getting old. But he should have known, turning a former priest into a strigi .
“Athelstan,” Eli said in a warning tone, “remember our deal.”
Athelstan snapped to attention at this and fought back his revulsion as he navigated his way around the dead man’s body. He tried to ignore the man’s slit throat, with the ruby red blood that had spilt down his front.
The man was not wearing a tunic, only trousers. The rest of the man’s clothes were lying next the the furs on the bed in a pile. Eli was right; he always seemed to be right. The dead man’s clothes did fit Athelstan, quite comfortably at that. Athelstan tried not to think about the fact that he was pleased he was not walking around in his underwear anymore. And in a dead man’s clothes.
Once he was dressed he turned back to Eli, who it seemed had been unabashedly staring at him as he dressed. If Athelstan could blush, he would have. Instead, he awkwardly folded his arms across his chest and cleared his throat, “So, um, what now?”
“Now,” Eli said, looking around the hut with a look of disgust on his face, “Now, we wait until I am ready to go and continue on our way. I'd like to stay a few days and enjoy somethings.”
“And where would “our way” be exactly?” Athelstan questioned.
“Back to where I live, of course,” Eli said as he sat down beside the unlit fire pit in the middle of the hut. He held out his palms over the pit as if to warm them, although there was no fire.
“And where do you live? I get the feeling you are not from around here,” Athelstan observed, now truly taking in the other man’s presence after everything that had happened.
In truth, judging by Eli’s still damp clothing, he looked like he could belong here but everything else about him seemed different.
Old.
Powerful .
The way in which Eli talked, for instance, belied the fact that he was used to getting everything he wanted, without much fight. Athelstan remembered what Eli had said, about being the Chosen of the First One. He made a mental note to find more about that later.
Eli chuckled at Athelstan’s words before murmuring something under his breath into the fire pit. Within an instant it was lit. Athelstan could not believe his eyes. What he just witnessed was—
“ Witchcraft ,” hissed Athelstan as he stared at the fire.
“Of a sort, yes,” Eli said, straightening up from the fire. “Soon you will learn how to wield your powers too.”
Athelstan was taken aback, “Powers?”
“Yes,” said Eli. “When you become a demon, or half demon in our case, you ascertain certain gifts . But to answer your earlier question, no, I am not from ‘around here’ .”
Despite himself, Athelstan was intrigued, “Where are you from, then? Your accent sounds like no other I’ve heard.”
“Let us just say I am from a place very far away, a place you may recognize from that Holy Book of yours,” Eli smirked.
Athelstan opened his mouth to question Eli further, but Eli held up a hand to stop him and Athelstan decided against testing him in this moment.
Eli was dangerous. Very dangerous. He would gladly cause Athelstan torment just to have Athelstan stay by his side in his new form. What Athelstan wanted to know was why ? Why him, a now former priest in every sense of the word. Why did Eli choose to raise Athelstan as a strigi, as he called it. Athelstan wanted answers but he feared he would not get them today, or anytime soon for that matter.
“Now, it is almost sunrise and you have not got a suitable place to hide from the sun’s rays coming through the slats in this, house , so you’ll have to go under the furs,” Eli pointed to the deceased couples’ makeshift bed.
“What about you? Does sunlight not bother you too, Eli?” asked Athelstan.
“Me? Oh no my dear Athelstan, sunlight does not burn me like it does you.” Eli saw the questioning look on Athelstan’s face and quickly added on, “I’ll explain it to you, one day, once I have fully settled you into this new way of living.”
Athelstan bit back a remark and moved to get under the furs. He pulled them up close around his neck.
“No, not like that!” exclaimed Eli. “You have to cover your entire body, do you want your face to be burned off?”
Yes.
“What about my breathing?” even as he asked this question, Athelstan knew it was stupid. He had noticed earlier that he did not need to breathe like he once did, when he was human.
“What about it?” Eli asked with a teasing lilt to his voice.
Athelstan sighed quietly to himself, although he had the faintest notion that Eli could hear him no matter how soft he sighed, and pulled the furs completely over his head.
There was nothing left to do but wait.
Wait for the sun to fall in the sky and see what else Eli had been planning, for Athelstan had a feeling Eli was always planning something.
Whatever that something was, Athelstan had no idea.
However, he intended to find out more. More about Eli, who he was exactly and what his plans were for Athelstan.
But for the time being, Athelstan closed his eyes under the furs and tried to sleep.