Chapter Text
Mathias swept into his laboratory with the rage of a displeased empyrean. He ripped his cloak from his shoulders and cast it childishly into the nearest corner, his hands immediately moving to illuminate and light the room in the darkened glow of hellish fire. He distinctly saw Death sweep toward his discarded cloak and move to hang it near the door, but Mathias refused to acknowledge his presence; he wasn’t ready. Not yet.
“Foolish mortals always think they know so much about hope despite their short, fleeting lives…” He hastily poured a cooled eldritch concoction into a heated burette and watched the silvery liquid stir slowly. He reached across his table, his eyes scanning for the correct ingredient. “I’ll show him just how short that pathetic life of his is, how futile hope truly is .”
Death shifted behind him, the cold chill of his aura the closest remedy to his rising anger he could expect. His words, unfortunately, often ended up the opposite. It came as something of a shock that the Grim Reaper was no better at consoling humanoid creatures than he was at attempting humour. He often mixed the two ideas, much to the annoyance of Mathias.
“My Lord,” The bony spirit clacked, floating into his view with his eternal smile. For a brief moment Mathias felt as if he wished to deprive this specific skeleton of his prized head. It clearly had no use of it as there was no brain to protect… It only allowed the stupid creature to emit thoughtless words. “This is the first human we’ve caught in half a century, you must persist with it if we are to ever escape our curse.”
“You think an imbecile of that quality is capable of loving? Of being loved ?”
Mathias almost felt himself laugh at the sheer notion of such a ludicrous idea. He did not.
“You felt similarly to late Elisabetha now, didn’t you?” Death cackled, his empty eye-sockets burning sightless holes into the side of his head. With a snarl, Mathias finally pulled himself from his alchemy and tore a cursed spear from one of his desecrated knights, launching it straight towards the undead spirit. The weapon pierced straight through its upper left rib, exactly where a human heart would have remained and melted into the stone wall of his laboratory chamber, pinning Death there. “Light hair, light eyes, they also share this, dear Lord .”
A growl tore from his throat before he could stop his rising anger, his unfinished concoction grasped in his hand as a secondary weapon. One did not share more than a few centuries with another without learning of their deepest hurts and greatest secrets. The cost of trust was steeper than the weight of any curse.
“Her name will not come from your defiled mouth again, Death ,” he ordered, a cold grimness settling over him. Instead of burning through the bones of the current object of his hatred as he had intended, Mathias set down his potion, reopened it, and added a spoon of dried oleander petals into the concoction. He was running low, and would need to visit the gardens to collect more. “Nor will any of these asinine comparisons. The human has a fair enough appearance, but love cannot be kindled on appearance alone. You know this.”
“Walter knows better that it would be these petty things that keep you from freeing yourself. Your thoughts have always been amusingly human despite how long it's been.” Death crowed, his form still pinned pitifully.
Mathias approached him slowly, making no sudden movements until he ripped the radius from his extended arm and turned his back to him, uncaring of the writhing form behind him.
“You seem to know more about jesting than anything else,” he commented, using the radius to stir the purplish, molten liquid that now bubbled enticingly. The bone dissolved almost immediately. “But I have no need for a jester in my house.”
Leon awoke with a start. He wasn’t sure what had occurred, only that his usual cot made of sticks, rounded stones, and a forlorn scrap of cotton felt much more luxurious tonight than it had in any period of its life. He pulled the soft, feathered duvet over his chin only to pause and blink himself fully awake. He did not own feathered anything, much less a blanket of this type.
Leon sat up immediately with a jerk, his hands still holding the blanket up to cover most of his face as he scanned the room. The day’s previous events ran through his mind, painful and slow just as they had occurred. When had he fallen asleep? Had that irritable Lord Master of Hell put some sleeping medicine in his arm? He had mentioned he was a man of science… Though the authenticity of said ‘science’ was surely up to debate. In Leon's eyes, it was most likely witchcraft.
Having finally reclaimed his wits, the blonde realized how exquisite the room he had been taken to was. Silk hung from the windows, coloured of dawn and spring blossoms, but they didn't stand alone. They were crowned by sparkling jewels that caught the reflected light of the crystalline chandelier, bright and reflective like the morning sun on a silver lake.
He was situated in a bed much too massive for a single person, placed grandly before the two decorated windows. It was bearing enough cushions and quilts to sleep the entirety of his village and some. Clearly, no luxury was spared in a room this fine, nor necessity overlooked. Even a connected washroom was present: basin, tub, and attire at the ready. It was so terribly foreign to him, Leon couldn't help but find himself cowering behind the quilt as if the wealth of the room threatened to consume him.
“You, my dear friend, are a fool to have exchanged your life for that pitiful wench. You should have run free when you had the chance.” Leon immediately looked around wildly, his eyes searching for the owner of the sudden, nasally voice.
Leaning against the frame of the washroom stood a thin, pale man with hair that looked like lavender, and hung just above his shoulders. He had a devilish set of eyes, icy and glittering- most likely alight with mischief Leon wasn’t sure he wanted to be involved in. His appearance might have been likened to that of the fey- at least how Sara had described them to him.
“I’m not a fool. I only did what was right,” Leon noted the heavy looking candelabra that was placed tactfully next to his bedside and swallowed, his own eyes searching for any specific intent on the man’s face. “And she is as much of a wench as you are a bigot. Calling names is a child’s game, and wrong of someone your age. ”
”And yet you’ve called me one in reciprocation,” The man smiled haughtily before seating himself at the lavish desk that sat across from Leon’s bed. “We’re sure to make great friends.”
“And why exactly should I call you a friend?”
“Perhaps it is because I alone hold the power of your future?” He said, feigning interest in his nails. Leon got the feeling his waning attention had more to do with fear than he dared let on. He proceeded to fold his legs in a very particular manner and then cleared his throat. “ I have a deal to make with you.”
Leon sunk into his fine bed, sighing. The sun had yet to rise and here before him was yet another deal . Was it a habit of people in this cursed manor to make deals with the unlucky? Leon had never considered himself unlucky- luck was a thing of stories after all, however; a second deal might just have the power to save him from his first.
He definitely felt unlucky.
“Will I ever know your name, deal-maker?” Leon questioned dryly. Despite entering the rich, luxurious castle, it seemed the manners of its residents were less than proper. To think he had almost tried to speak to Mathias politely…Truly, there was no bigger mistake than to assume someone of his nature knew reason.
“Joachim. Joachim Armster, the true Lord of this castle.” The man flipped his hair a bit, his chest puffing forward in what Leon assumed was pride before remembering himself and wilting slightly. “That is, when I am Lord I’ll let you return to your love. Your life will return to as it was- simple and burdensome as you humans like it.”
“And the cost of this freedom?” Leon asked, despite knowing his answer. Joachim would have him do something evil- something like taking another life, or perhaps something far worse. Killing another person, even if they were ill mannered was not something Leon had considered up to this point. Even now, he had never had such a thought, at least not unprompted.
“It will take the strength of many to take down Mathias, which is why I have thought of a better plan,” Joachim began, reaching into his well embroidered vest to pull out a vial. The contents shimmered black, blue, and then purple- it was the look of some venom if Leon could guess. “Seduce him and drink this. When he tries to taste your blood this will finish your task for you.”
“When he tries to drink my blood?” Leon repeated, shaking his head. So they were cannibals? “Why won’t you do this evil work yourself? Seduction and murder? I don’t know who you’ve taken me for- someone with courage, perhaps, but I will not try to take anyone’s life unless it is in the case of self defence-”
“ Self defence ? If Mathias wanted you dead, your corpse would have stood with the gargoyles- you would’ve gone unburied, unmourned, and forgotten to your people.” Joachim spat, his eyes narrowed. Vitriol and anger marred the man's soft features, twisting his youthful beauty into something that looked far more malignant and obsessed. “You’re a fool to think petty human morality will save you here. Our previous resident was a fool just as you were- and while she escaped from this place, the price she paid for her freedom was immeasurable.”
Leon swallowed first, his eyes lowering. For all he knew Joachim could be lying. He could be weaving a story to instill fear in him, and then in his weakness try and take advantage... Or Joachim could be telling the truth. His words could be a warning for the fate that would likely be his future to claim.
“I need no promises,” Joachim said, his emotions hidden once again. Now when Leon looked at him he could see the traces of poorly repressed madness clinging to his countenance, to his mind. He was surely a victim, just as Leon was- only for much longer. Perhaps they had been similar once, in some way. “Hold onto this vial. Do what you will with it. You’re the last hope any of us have. At least for this century.”
With the vial placed tactfully on the desk, Joachim rose his feet pointed toward his exit when a slow, languid knock resounded off the oaken door. Both men froze, but Leon stumbled out of bed first, hastily pushing his bedside table in front of it. Joachim’s sharp, sculpted brow rose pointedly at the motion before he opened his mouth.
The person outside spoke first.
“It is time for dinner.” The deep, yet significantly muffled voice stated. In no way could Leon ever mistake the statement as an invitation, or even a request; it was undeniably the voice of Mathias Cronqvist, Lord master of whatever nonsense, ordering him to dinner. The blonde felt his fists clench unconsciously.
“Lord? I’m helping him dress. We’ll be promptly down-” Joachim began, but Leon’s icy gaze silenced the man almost as soon as he had started.
Once Joachim paused, Leon shoved the man lightly on his shoulder and shook his head violently. Truly, his intention had been to silently encourage Joachim to be quiet as well, but now that he had already taken the initiative to speak, Leon would have to speak out himself. He wouldn’t let himself go unheard.
“Why’re you accepting this? I thought you liked him less than I do?” Leon whispered, curiosity getting the better of him. He had never been particularly secretive or discreet to any extent. On the contrary, he was usually successful in his natural, confrontational manner. Knowing Mathias most likely had heard him despite his ‘efforts’, he cleared his throat. “We’re not attending your dinner. Enjoy it alone. ”
It was Leon’s turn to watch Joachim’s mouth fall open ungracefully, a pair of sharp fangs clearly on display. Perhaps they weren’t cannibals. Maybe, they were all members of some old, forgotten cult that liked to sharpen their own teeth with stones. No… No matter how Leon tried to imagine it, man flesh had to be on their list of dietary preferences.
“You have an infection. As a human, you must eat to repair yourself.” Mathias said, quite matter-of-factly. It seemed as if all the science and medicine he had studied had long given him an inflated head. All things considered, Leon didn’t feel badly about his injuries or sickness. He had weathered far worse conditions in his youth; being battered with a slight infection was practically his day to day usual. “Joachim, remove the furniture in front of this door.”
Leon, who had been in the midst of scooting a fine, large chair looked up wildly to meet a very distraught gaze. Leon appraised the other man silently, daring him to act. Joachim returned his look before reaching a tentative, pale hand towards the night-table, his loyalties clear.
For someone who wanted Mathias dead, the lavender haired-man seemed completely unable to deny him. Leon caught his wrist before he could move anything, his expression furrowed.
“He’s charmed you, hasn’t he? You’re unable to deny him?” Leon looked down at his feet, suddenly torn. Joachim made no outward vocalisation to confirm his supposition, but his silence spoke in volumes. A sort of righteous indignation burned in Leon’s chest at the thought of such a thing: A whole person, denied their own wants and needs in favour of serving another, it was as preposterous as it was enraging. When the blonde looked up towards Joachim again, he realised how small the man looked- small and sad, like a hurt child. “I’ve tied him up, Mathias! Neither of us will be dining with you tonight! Oh, and Edward won’t be…he won’t be either-”
Leon paused as the candles around his room began to sputter out, one by one. Suddenly submerged in darkness, the blonde could do naught but look wordlessly towards Joachim, silently asking for explanation.
“Now you've gone and done it, stupid human.” The other man muttered darkly, his frosty eyes rolling. “You'll learn quickly that no one denies the Lord Master of Hell. Now we'll both have to pay for your idiocy.”
“ My idiocy-?! I was trying to help you!” Leon argued, wholly offended. Unfortunately, he was a bit distracted by the white curling fog that seemed to seep through the bottom of the door, lest he properly give Joachim a piece of his mind. The murk seemed to have a mind of its own with how it twisted and coiled unnaturally. “What sort of…Uh quickly, Joachim! Help me stuff the door!”
Leon senselessly dashed towards his bed, nearly tripping on the billowing, white night-gown he had not dressed himself in and grabbed at whatever blankets he could. Joachim seemed starkly against the prospect of helping him and only watched as Leon frantically began pulling the furniture away to better seal the open crevices.
Despite his efforts, the mist was persistent and swift, winding around his wrists like incorporeal shackles before it became something more solid. Leon gasped in disbelief when he realised his own arm had been pulled back by none other than Mathias himself, his cold, wretched fingers like ice on his skin.
How he passed through a completely shut door, was lost on the blonde.
“My Lord,” Joachim greeted, a grating, false sort of cheerfulness present in his voice. While Leon had been struggling to keep Mathias out, apparently the charlatan had actually gone and tied himself to a chair, comradery be damned. Leon swore to himself this was the last time he would play the fool and try to help Joachim out. “You've picked quite the human this time. Very much your type.”
His words seemed to trigger something within Mathias and for a moment, Leon could feel his grip tightening around his wrist, nearly painful.
The blonde pulled away with significant difficulty, glaring hard at both men, his heart pattering away in his chest far too fast to allow him to think. It was horror that clouded his mind, horror at seeing something unreal occur directly before his own eyes.
“You… What are you? How did you- how did you go about doing that?” Leon had his own answer in the case Mathias attempted his previous evasive tactic and tried to avoid the question outright: witchcraft. It had to be. Leon let his narrowed blue eyes flick over to Joachim distrustfully. “You'll at least answer me this!”
Mathias held his gaze silently, and for a moment Leon almost saw a sort of reluctance shadow his beautifully despairing countenance.
“We're vampires. We live off of human blood, and dominate a wide array of dark entities and powers to use for our liking. ” Joachim shrugged, pulling loose from his own bindings easily. Mathias made no motion to speak, but his silvery eyes lowered for a moment- whether it was shame or something else entirely was hard to say.
“We are cursed with vampirism.” Mathias corrected, moving away from them both to straighten his trailing robes. Leon couldn’t at all see his face, obscured as it was in the darkness, but a part of him burned with curiosity. He wanted to know if it was regret or sadness that marred his fair features, or perhaps something else entirely. “That is the reason I brought you here… The curse can only be lifted by someone who is not under its magic.”
“Curses? Magic?” Leon repeated dumbly, wringing his fingers around his recently freed wrist. He staggered backwards a few steps before plopping back onto the edge of his bed, his alarm fading dully like the distant ring of a bell. Vampires were a thing of legend, of old, of fiction . Yet, the state of the castle and its deceptively mysterious owner could only be explained with such an answer. None of it seemed like the reality Leon had grown up seeing around him. “So you’re not cannibals then…”
“We’re honestly not too far removed.” Joachim answered quickly, and with far too much apathy for Leon to feel very comfortable with.
“Then why were you cursed?” Leon asked, suddenly standing up with more confidence than he had possessed since entering the dark castle. When a moment of stillness passed between them, Leon continued, hungry to know the answer. “Was it because you denied God?”
Joachim pursed his lips then, almost as if he had tasted something bitter or sour and could no longer remain a straight face. His eyes were the opposite however, becoming wide and dangerous like a frightened cat.
“The origins of my curse matter little.” The vampire lord grumbled, his voice low and menacing. He turned then, his cloak melting into the darkness and making him appear a mere silhouette. “What matters is that you perform as I need you to. To do that you will eat.”
“I won’t help you unless you explain the circumstances of your situation to me. From what I’ve learned of your character so far is merely your bad temper and demanding nature-”
“You are testing my patience, human .”
“My name is Leon Belmont and I won’t be called otherwise.” The blonde snapped, moving forward to point a very displeased finger towards the Lord’s chest. Mathias took the chance to grab ahold of his arm, his own temper clearly on the rise. “Go ahead, pull me to the kitchens for all I care. You can’t make me eat, in the same way you can’t make me aid you!”
Leon, despite his situation and generally unwise choices, felt quite satisfied with his own words. Not only was he maintaining his temper, he was quite reasonable in his requests and even humoring the pompous, angry Lord to a degree.
If Sara had witnessed this, she would have been pleased.
“Then starve.” Mathias raised a pale hand and snapped, a dark aura suddenly dripping from his outstretched fingers. It pooled around his misplaced furniture and in but a moment, returned them to their original locations. Leon almost felt his jaw unhinge itself once again, but forced his awe to remain hidden. “So long as you keep up this petulant act, the other residents of this castle will starve alongside you.”
Leon shook his head, unable to hide the grimace that pulled his lips downwards.
“Bastard…”