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Chapter Text

He met the vampire on a Sunday. He stood out, a vivid splash of red and gold brocade against the washed out browns and grays of the city of Octovern in the fall. Nicholas stood on the steps of the Church, a bronze dish meant for alms balanced precariously at the foot of the stone visage of Mary, Mother of God, next to him. Ostensibly, he was meant to be collecting alms from late arrivals. In reality, Nicholas had never been allowed in the Church during one of Master Chapel’s sermons. The old priest had always told Nicholas a creature such as he was far too stupid and far too unnatural to hear the Good Word meant for the faithful congregants.

There were hunters and exorcists inside the Church. This was hardly the place for a vampire.

Nicholas knew many of the hunters of the Eye of Michael that would be sitting in the pews of the building behind him, heads bowed in supplication to their almighty God. They were the type to kill a vampire on sight and worry about making sure he actually had human lifeblood on his fangs later.

Nicholas needed to get him out of here.

Across the way, the vampire tittered flirtatiously at a couple of passing Ladies of the Night, unaware of the danger he’d placed himself in. Making a split-second decision, Nicholas crossed the muddy street to reach him. He blocked the vampire’s path, while doing his best to make himself appear smaller in stature. He’d learned if he stooped and tucked in his shoulders, he could sometimes pass as less monstrous than he truly was.

The vampire drew up short. He blinked at Nicholas from behind tinted shades.

“Can I help you?”

Oh.

His voice was lovely. Nicholas had been trying to ignore the preternatural beauty of his visage. He hadn’t come across many vampires before, but he thought they were supposed to be beautiful.

Even if this one did remind Nicholas of his favorite stained glass window in the Church, which depicted the archangel Gabriel blowing his trumpet on the Day of Judgment.

“Go.”

The vampire cocked his head.

Words were something that neither Chapel, nor Conrad before him, had ever sought to impart onto Nicholas. What little spoken language he’d managed over the years had come from his own ingenuity alone. He rarely ever attempted to speak to anyone.

“Danger. You go.”

The vampire immediately launched into a dramatic display, laying the back of his hand across his forehead.

“Oh heavens me! Is it truly as dangerous as they say in Ravenfaust? How ever will I make it back to my carriage on my own?”

This vampire may be stupider than Nicholas. Well, the Central Octovern Stables were only a few blocks away. Nicholas had walked that before. If the vampire needed help, Nicholas could guide him.

“Come.”

The vampire broke into a blinding smile. Between one blink and the next, the vampire had locked arms with Nicholas and was strolling merrily down the street in the direction of the stables. Baffled, Nicholas allowed himself to be dragged along.

“So does my knight in shining armor have a name?”

For a moment, Nicholas didn’t know how to answer that. Master Chapel said his name was Adam, for the Biblical progenitor, but he’d chosen the name Nicholas for himself. Chapel rarely called him Adam anyways. He mostly called Nicholas ‘the creature.’ Sometimes, if he was in poor mood, he would call Nicholas ‘boy’ or ‘it.’ Nicholas didn’t like any of those. 

Did the vampire want the name Master Chapel called him, or the name Nicholas called himself?

Nicholas had taken too long. The vampire slowed.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

“Nicholas,” he blurted, desperate to stop the tinge of sadness in his voice.

The vampire’s smile blinded Nicholas. It was so…genuine. No one around him ever smiled genuinely.

“Vash.”

“Vash,” Nicholas tried. The name tasted good on his tongue.

“It’s lovely to meet you, Nicholas. I don’t know what I’d have done if such a big, strong man hadn’t come to my rescue!”

He was doing that thing again. Pretending to swoon like a maiden who’d worn her corset too tight. Nicholas didn’t understand the new lilt in his voice. All he knew was the the vampire’s smile was far less real than it had been moments ago. Nicholas didn’t know how to voice his distaste for the change. 

Nicholas grunted, an unappealing sound that would have resulted in Chapel cuffing him about the ears, had he heard it. The vampire—Vash—fanned himself as though Nicholas had said something forward.

“My my! Such a deep powerful voice you have! You truly should speak more! I’m sure you’d be a wonderful conversationalist!”

What—what was happening?

Vash continued this one-sided conversation for several blocks, complimenting Nicholas’s shoulders, his stature, and his eyes. Master Chapel hated his mismatched eyes. Hell, they’d driven Conrad to vanish into the arctic, disgusted by the abomination he’d created.

Could vampires be defective?

Surely this one was.

The bridge that connected the neighborhood of Ravenfaust to central Octovern came into view. On the other side of that bridge, the long low building of the Central Octovern Stables dominated the street. Colorful, opulent carriages waited outside for their owners to return from the ritzy dining and busy streets of the financial district.

Nicholas could leave Vash here. He would be fine.

Vash didn’t let go of Nicholas’s arm as they stepped onto the cobblestone of the bridge. Nicholas made no move to free himself from the vampire’s clutches.

Vash’s carriage turned out to be as striking as his clothing. The entire thing shone a brilliant white, untouched by the mud and muck of the Octovern streets. The golden trim looked fit for royalty. Nicholas glanced down at the patchwork clothing he’d repaired more times than he could count, his lack of shoes and street-blackened feet, and the rough rope he’d used as a belt to keep his breeches from falling down around his ankles, and wished he’d stayed on his side of the bridge.

Something of his look must have translated to Vash.

“Why don’t I repay you for your kindness? I’m certain a warm bath and a proper meal wouldn’t go amiss.”

If Master Chapel found him missing, he would be furious. Nicholas wouldn’t eat for a week.

“I’ve really enjoyed spending time with you this afternoon. It would make me happy if you came with me and allowed me to return the favor.”

There was that genuine smile again. Even with the glasses there to cut the power of his eyes, Nicholas was entranced. 

Fuck Chapel.

Nicholas took Vash’s proffered hand.

*     *     *

Vash’s carriage took them on a winding path through Octovern, into parts of the city that Nicholas had never seen before. Buildings taller than the Church towered beyond the view of the carriage windows, so high they seemed to kiss the sky. Shop fronts boasted wares Nicholas had never even heard of, let alone seen first hand. Ladies in colorful dresses bustled between them, followed by servants carrying armfuls of bags. Delicious smells wafted from restaurants with bright awnings shielding outdoor table settings. 

“Enjoying the view?” Vash asked, a few minutes into their journey. 

Nicholas turned and found himself the subject of intense vampiric scrutiny. His ears heated.

“Never been far.”

“Then please, look to your hearts’ content. I know I will,” Vash purred.

Surely someone with the kind of wealth that afforded a carriage like this, with its lovely black horses and well-balanced wheels, had seen all of this before. Unsure how to answer that bizarre statement, Nicholas turned back to the window.

The mundane storefronts faded into more fantastical ones as they drove on. Inanimate objects in store windows danced in time to music with no visible source. Witches brewed cauldrons on street corners and sold trinkets that changed color as they moved. The people had changed as well. Nicholas spotted vampires, ghouls, and even a couple of half-transformed werewolves walking between the stores. He even saw a ghostly figure vanish between one shop and the next.

Nicholas had heard of the Dusk District before, but he’d always thought it a lie. Surely there wasn’t a place where all manner of supernatural creatures mingled among humans. Such a place seemed impossible.

Yet, here it was.

Nicholas pressed his nose to the glass of the carriage. Behind him, Vash chuckled.

“I can bring you here sometime, if you’d like.”

He nodded without thinking.

Eventually, the magical storefronts changed to residential houses. Children played outside of these, some obviously inhuman, others as mundane as they came. Nicholas watched their games until they faded from sight.

The homes were shortly replaced by a dense, neverending hedge. They seemed to follow the edge of it for miles, by Nicholas’s admittedly uninformed estimation. Eventually, they came to an ornate, black gate with a crest in the middle. The crest matched the one on Vash’s carriage, only this time Nicholas recognized it.

That was the Saverem crest. This had to be the Saverem Manor. The oldest known vampires in the world, possibly the last true-blooded unturned vampires left alive. The rumors said that two Saverems remained alive—a set of twin brothers—but only one of them remained in the city. The other was currently traveling overseas.

Vash must have been the Saverem left behind.

As the gate opened and the largest, most beautiful house Nicholas had ever laid eyes on came into view, he suddenly felt every inch of his body, caked with dust from the streets of Ravenfaust and barely clothed. Too big and too clunky and too ugly. 

Vash stepped down from the carriage and came around to open Nicholas’s door. He stepped out, feeling the carriage shift with his bulk, and looked down at his bare feet on the cobble drive. 

“Dirty.”

Vash seemed to understand what he meant. He folded himself into Nicholas’s line of sight to catch his gaze.

“Would a bath help? I don’t think the tub in the washroom would be big enough for you, but we can improvise.”

That angle had to hurt his back.

“Okay.”

This was how Nicholas found himself in a large wooden basin in the back garden of Saverem Manor, which his knees tucked up to his chest. The water sloshed around him, some of it splashing over the edge of the tub and into the trailing vines below. Before he’d stepped into the basin, Vash had taken a couple of stones and dropped them into the bottom, promising his friend was the best artificer in the city. Nicholas didn’t know what that meant or what that had to do with the stones, but when he’d shucked the bare rags he’d been wearing and stepped into the bath, it had greeted him with the perfect temperature. Hot, but not so hot it scalded.

The few times Nicholas had taken baths before, they had always been ice cold and rushed, with Master Chapel complaining about his smell or appearance right behind him. This bath had to count as heaven on earth. The air outside smelled lovely, the garden lush with soil and greenery. The tall hedges surrounding the property offered privacy, even while outdoors. Nicholas suspected that in summer this garden would be a veritable rainbow of colors, though in fall, it was mostly greens and browns.

Nicholas took the bar of sweet-smelling soap that Vash had provided him with, and started working on cleaning himself off. Layers of dirt and muck swirled away into the water, leaving only warm brown skin in their wake. Even so, the bathwater never got dirty. It stayed as magically clean as the Holy Water Master Chapel used in purification rituals. 

Holy Water that he would sometimes sprinkle on Nicholas, to purge him of the evil of his creation.

Nicholas wondered if it was sacrilegious to bathe in it, or if this bath would purify him completely.

By the time Nicholas had worked his way from his feet and legs to his chest and shoulders, the bar of soap he’d been given was dwindling down to almost nothing. Uncertain, Nicholas looked around to see if someone might help him figure out what to do next.

He found Vash standing a little ways off, staring with rapt attention. When he caught Nicholas looking, he put on one of those simpering smiles.

“Would you like some help with your back?”

Well, he couldn’t reach there on his own.

“Okay.”

Vash approached the basin, bringing a new bar of soap and washcloth with him. Nicholas leaned forward to allow him to reach his back. The rough, sudsy cloth worked its way down his spine.

Vash’s other hand came down against the back of his neck and traced a line there. Nicholas fought a shiver.

“Where did this scar come from?”

Oh. Probably from when Conrad had attached this head to this body. Before he’d animated—reanimated—Nicholas.

Nicholas shrugged.

“Same as the ones on your back?”

Nicholas shrugged again.

Vash’s warm hand kept tracing lines over the muscles of his back. His body started to stir shamefully in the water. The thought of Chapel’s punishment for such a reaction made Nicholas flinch.

“Sorry!” Vash’s hands pulled away. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t ask so many questions. Here, let me do your hair. Lean back.”

Warm water poured down Nicholas’s spine. Vash’s hands on his shoulders guided him backwards. Nicholas let Vash move him. He didn’t react as Vash shielded his eyes and poured water over his head.

“I’m sorry if I was too pushy just now,” Vash murmured as he carded fingers through Nicholas’s hair.

Nicholas shook his head. Vash’s fingers massaged into Nicholas’s scalp, bringing with them a touch of the divine. Nicholas closed his eyes. 

“Feeling good, sweetheart?”

No one had ever called Nicholas sweetheart before. He didn’t know how to respond. He nodded.

“Good.”

It went on for a while, fingers in his hair, warm water, flowery soap. Nicholas drifted as he basked in a comfort he’d never experienced before in his life.

“Okay.” Vash’s voice had become a soft lullaby, “I think we’re done. The servants were able to put together some clothes for you. Nothing fancy, I’m afraid, but they should feel nice after what you had before.”

Vash offered his gloved hand. When Nicholas took it, he pulled him up out of the bath with inhuman strength. No one had ever moved him so easily. Nicholas’s heart pounded painfully in his chest.

Was something wrong with it?

Vash made a gesture off to the side and a couple of servants rushed forwards with towels and clothing. In no time flat, Nicholas had been completely dried off and maneuvered into a white ruffled shirt and dark breeches. The servants hadn’t found any shoes for him, but Nicholas didn’t mind being barefoot. The soil felt nice under his feet. Besides the shirt and breeches truly were the nicest things Nicholas had ever worn. The fabric ran over his skin smoothly, without rough patches or catching stitches. Nicholas could see places where the seams had been ripped and sewn hurriedly back together. He hoped the servants hadn’t had to go to too much trouble to make them fit him. He didn’t deserve that kind of attention.

Nicholas’s first steps inside Saverem Manor exceeded his wildest expectations. The Church was grand, sure, in the way that all cathedrals were—high vaulted ceilings, beautiful stained glass, and cold stone and marble as far as the eye could see. The back entry that led from the gardens was the exact opposite of the familiar cathedral of the Church. Warm wood and gilded filigree overlaid much of the entry. Fading evening sunlight poured in through the massive windows overlooking the gardens. Paintings lined the walls, depicting ships on the ocean and far off lands and people who’s stories Nicholas didn’t know. 

Nicholas followed Vash through a maze of hallways and rooms until they reached the dining room. A long formal dining table dominated the room, with huge, wing-backed chairs large enough for even Nicholas. Vash gestured for Nicholas to take a seat.

“Please, make yourself comfortable. I’m just going to check in with the kitchen staff and I will be right back.”

Did vampires eat? Nicholas didn’t think they did.

He chose a seat towards the middle of the table, unsure where exactly he should be sitting. He thought he’d heard someone in the Church mention something about table setting once, so there must be a proper way to do this. But Vash seemed to be content to do whatever felt most natural to Nicholas. He’d been such a gracious host, more than happy to provide.

Vampires always asked for blood at the end of a night like this, right? That had to be how this ended.

But Nicholas found he didn’t care. Legally, as long as they didn’t kill anyone, vampires had the right to drink. Nicholas knew from some of the hunters in the Church that most vampires did something like this. Wine and good food before requesting blood. Many humans even sought out vampires for these types of trysts. Today had been, hands down, the best day of Nicholas’s life. If the trade-off for this was offering Vash a little bit of his blood, Nicholas would take that trade.

That decision was still lingering in Nicholas’s head when Vash swept back into the room in a flurry of red coattails. 

“Dinner is served!” he announced and bowed with a dramatic flourish. 

Behind him, several servants walked in carrying serving trays. As they set down the dishes and removed the lids, Nicholas was hit with a new wave of mouthwatering smells. Some kind of roast bird, a chicken or duck perhaps, claimed the central spot at the table. Around it bloomed an array of vegetables, meats, breads, and fruits cooked into a variety of dishes far beyond Nicholas’s ability to name, let alone describe. They filled the table so thoroughly that Nicholas expected it to groan under their combined weight.

“Help yourself!” Vash crowed.

He sounded so excited to see Nicholas try the food. Nicholas reached for the serving spoon of the closest dish and placed a generous spoonful on his plate. Vash sat down across from him and resumed his intent staring.

Flushing, Nicholas raised his fork to his mouth and took a bite. Something spicy and fruity burst across his tongue. There were apples in there, but also some kind of spice he’d never tasted before. Hurriedly, Nicholas shoveled another bite into his mouth. Vash sat forward in his chair, looking positively giddy at Nicholas’s reaction.

“That good, huh?”

Nicholas jerked his head in a nod. He began putting more spoonfuls from various dishes onto his plate. The first side he’d tried remained his favorite, but each bite he took fed more and more an appetite he never truly let out.

Chapel fed him only as much as he needed to survive. Usually in stale bread and leftovers from the Church. Nicholas had gone to bed hungry every day of his life.

Vash kept encouraging him to eat more, going so far as to refill his plate. Nicholas knew his body consumed more than a normal human. Master Chapel complained constantly about the amount of food it took to keep him going. Vash, on the other hand, seemed ecstatic that Nicholas was eating so well. He maintained a one-sided conversation the entire time, describing each dish, the ingredients, where they came from, who prepared it. He knew every one of his servants by name, knew their families and interests. He told Nicholas about how Miss Mary made the dish with apples—the spice in it was called cinnamon apparently—for her children at home. Vash said he’d planted apple trees in the gardens just for her. 

All Nicholas had to do in response was eat and ponder everything Vash said. He couldn’t help but compare him to Master Chapel. To the way Chapel only knew the names of people he deemed worth remembering. To the way Chapel would never go out of his way for another person the way Vash had. To the way Chapel saw so many beings, human and monster alike, as completely beneath him.

Vash was warm. He was kind. He wanted Nicholas to enjoy himself and be happy. He wanted his servants to live good lives and be paid well for the work they gave him. He cared for them and for their families. He talked about his brother, away overseas. How he’d built a campaign against hunter organization and extrajudicial killings of supernatural beings. How he was a little radical, but not wrong. How Vash wanted to travel, wanted to meet people, wanted to see more of the world.

He had lived in the Manor for centuries. He was surrounded by people, but to Nicholas he seemed lonely.

If Nicholas could ease that loneliness for just one night, he would do it.

Eventually the plates were cleared away. Another servant brought out a platter, covered in cookies and slices of cake and pies.

“Dessert?” Vash asked sweetly.

Nicholas hesitated. Surely he had eaten too much already.

“If you’re still hungry, you really should try Jeremiah’s chocolate cake. He learned to make it before coming to Octovern, and I hear the recipe is a family secret.”

Vash winked.

Nicholas took a slice of cake and added it to his plate. Then he took a few cookies and a slice of some kind of fruit pie. Before he knew it, his plate had been refilled.

Chocolate, Nicholas learned, had been gifted by God to his humble children below. There was no other explanation for its decadent flavor. It had to be ambrosia, straight from Heaven itself.

By the time Nicholas finished with dessert, he was full to bursting. He worried he may rip the seams of his new white shirt, but the feeling was so foreign, so completely alien, that he had to sit and enjoy it. Vash continued to regale him the entire time, seeming content to fill the silence between them himself, unbothered by Nicholas’s lack of words. When Nicholas finally set down his fork, Vash grinned.

“All done?”

Nicholas nodded. Vash picked up a napkin and came around the table to stand at Nicholas’s side. When he pushed his chair out, Vash took him lightly by the chin.

“You’ve got a bit of something on your face.”

He dabbed the kerchief along Nicholas’s jawline and over his mouth. Embarrassment and something else, something unfamiliar, squirmed in his belly.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize! You look lovely. I’m so happy you enjoyed the meal! The folks in the kitchen worked really hard on it!”

“Tell them. Thank you.”

“I will give them your compliments!”

Nicholas wondered if Vash had a setting other than ‘excitable.’ He found he didn’t mind it all that much. The energy was nice.

“It’s awfully late. I could take you back to Ravenfaust if you’d like, but given the time it might be better if you stay the night here.”

Right on cue, a crash of thunder shook the house. The last time Nicholas had looked out the window, there hadn’t been any clouds on the horizon.

“Oh dear! And it’s storming! I simply insist you stay. I’ll have a guest room made up.”

A part of Nicholas wanted to protest. Master Chapel was already likely to lock him in the clocktower without food or water for at least a week after this little outing. Staying for a full night would double—maybe triple—his punishment.

The storm raged outside. Its suddenness made Nicholas wonder if it was magical in origin, like the storm that had given him life.

“I’ll stay.”

Vash twirled in a little dance, “Yay! Sleepover!”

Nicholas repeated after him, “Sleepover.”

Chapter Text

Nicholas eyed the massive bed in the center of the room warily. It must have been Vash’s. No one else could have a bed so big in this house, large enough that it could fit even Nicholas’s seven-foot frame. He hadn’t expected they would sleep in the same room, but he’d heard some vampires liked to keep their meals close.

It will be nice to sleep close by, a treacherous part of Nicholas’s brain whispered. Nicholas silenced it brutally.

Besides, the plush rug in front of the massive fireplace looked far cozier than Nicholas’s little nest of torn blankets and hay in the Church’s belfry. This would be the best sleep he’d ever gotten in his life.

Nicholas approached the fireplace, “Warm.”

“Is it too warm, darling?” Vash asked from behind him.

Why did he keep using those names?

Nicholas shook his head, “At home. Cold.”

“Oh, well you will be very warm tonight. The linens on the bed came from San Decembre, I’ll have you know. Some of the finest material you’ll ever find!”

Vash walked over and turned down a corner of the pile of blankets. “The servants were even thoughtful enough to prep a bed warmer! I’ll have to find out who did that and get them a little bonus.”

Wait. Wait, Vash was talking like Nicholas would be sleeping in the bed.

“Sleep. Here?”

Nicholas pointed to the bed. He hoped his expression conveyed his confusion.

“Where else would you sleep, silly?”

Vash’s laughter bounced around the room. He seemed a bit giddy. Excited?

Nicholas pointed to the rug at his feet. Something sad and serious dropped over Vash’s face. Nicholas didn’t like seeing Vash sad, he decided, right then and there. Vash should never be sad.

In the flicker of an instant, Vash had gone from beside the bed to directly in front of Nicholas. Nicholas flinched.

Vash reached up to cup his face in both hands, “Listen to me, Nicholas. As long as you are here, you will never have to sleep on the floor again.”

Nicholas nodded. His heart was trying to escape his ribcage, but it was easily ignored in the face of Vash’s intense focus.

Vash nodded back, as if confirming the unbelievable promise he’d just made. He let go of Nicholas and approached a set of drawers on the opposite wall. On top of them, neatly folded, were yet another set of clothes.

“I hope these fit alright. They might be a little short.”

They were for Nicholas too?

Vash had given him so many things in such a short period of time. Sweet soap and heated water, delicious food and comfortable clothes. A bed and a fire and company.

Vash offered him the clothing he was holding. It was a simple white and blue striped dressing gown. Soft and loose for sleeping. Nicholas took it from him with reverence.

“One thing, before you retire for the evening.”

Nicholas looked up to catch Vash’s eyes. He blinked, realizing Vash had removed the shades he’d worn all day.

“I don’t know how much you know about vampires,” Vash started, eyes cast away from Nicholas—deliberately, it would seem, to keep Nicholas from getting caught in their hypnotic spell before they were ready for it. “We require blood to sustain ourselves. I usually ask my guests, if they are willing, to share some blood with me. Would you be willing to do that for me?”

“Anything,” Nicholas said in a rush. He’d expected this request, and after everything Vash had already given him, this was the least he could do.

Vash smiled at him, soft and genuine and everything Nicholas wanted from him, “Have you ever let a vampire feed on you before?”

Nicholas shook his head.

Vash’s lips stretched into a wide grin, “I’m your first? I promise, I’ll be gentle.”

If any vampire could be gentle, Nicholas had no doubt it would be Vash.

“It will hurt a little at first, but I’m going to hypnotize you. Then it will feel good. Why don’t you sit down in that chair for me and get comfortable. I’ll be right there.”

Nicholas dropped into the big arm chair by the fire that Vash had indicated. He half-expected it to collapse under his weight, but it held him easily. He watched as Vash folded back the sheets on the bed and laid the dressing gown out on top of it, then bustled across the room to stoke the fire. He turned to Nicholas, loosening the buttons at the collar of his own shirt.

Nicholas swallowed at the brief vision of newly-freed collarbone, pale and scarred, that this action offered him.

Vash approached him at a slow, rolling pace that reminded Nicholas of a predator approaching its prey. Like a wolf, perhaps, going after a sheep. He’d never seen that in person, but Livio used to read him bedtime stories like that.

“Can I sit in your lap?”

Nicholas’s brain short-circuited. He gave a fast, jerky nod.

Vash spread himself over Nicholas’s thighs, a cozy weight. His face had been cast in shadow by the fire at his back, but the blue of his eyes glimmered with their own light. Nicholas drowned in their intoxicating glow.

“Good boy,” Vash hummed, “You’re feeling really good right now, huh? Nice and relaxed for me.”

Every bit of tension drained out of Nicholas’s limbs in an instant.

“That’s good. Tilt your head a bit.”

Nicholas’s head moved of its own accord. His thoughts felt as though they had been wrapped in soft blankets. Warm, comfortable, safe. Vash wouldn’t hurt him. Vash would take care of him.

Vash nuzzled along his jawline, breathing him in like he couldn’t get enough of Nicholas’s scent. A shiver worked its way up Nicholas’s spine that had nothing to do with the temperature of the room. His fingers tightened on the armrests.

Vash’s tongue dipped into the space where Nicholas’s jaw met the shell of his ear. Nicholas groaned.

“That’s it,” Vash purred, “Let go. I’ve got you.”

Nicholas’s cock began to harden in his pants. A part of Nicholas started to panic at the thought that such a reaction was wrong, but it was drowned out by the certainty that Vash had him. Nothing bad could happen with Vash right here.

Vash’s open mouth traced down the line of his throat. A hint of fang scraped along his skin. His hips rocked involuntarily up into Vash.

Vash moved with him easily, “Whoa, big boy. We’ll talk about that part later, my dear. I would love to see what you have to give me.”

Hazily, Nicholas wondered what the hell that meant. Still a larger part of him was focused on Vash’s barely there vampire’s kiss.

The sharp pain of Vash’s fangs piercing his throat was counterbalanced by a sudden wave of intense pleasure. Nicholas arched into Vash, but Vash held him down with supernatural strength. A warm stream of blood began to trickle down the side of his neck, staining the new, white shirt.

Vash jolted back from Nicholas, coughing and gagging. He tumbled to the floor in a flail of too-long limbs. The hazy warm feeling vanished as though it had never been there.

Black blood stained the plush carpeting Nicholas had been admiring. Vash looked up at Nicholas, wide-eyed.

God, he should have realized he was too much of a monster to ever have this.

Nicholas was on his feet before Vash could utter a word. He ran from the room.

“Nicholas! Wait!”

Nicholas’s black blood must have done something to him. He should have been able to catch up easily with his vampiric speed. Nicholas hoped he hadn’t poisoned the vampire. He didn’t deserve that.

At the end of the hallway, a branch clacked against the window in the raging storm. They were on the second floor of the building, but that hardly mattered to an abomination like Nicholas.

He burst through the pane of glass. Sharp shards cut into his forearms, legs, and feet. He ignored these new pains as he tumbled to the ground below. The soft loam of the flowerbeds below—made even softer with piles of fallen leaves—broke his fall.

Under a rumble of thunder, he heard Vash call for him again from behind.

Nicholas fled into the storm.

* * *

In the end, Nicholas didn’t get off the grounds.

He pelted through the storm, drenched by sheets of ice cold rain. His bare feet sank into rapidly-forming muddy puddles, which stained his legs as black as the dark fabric of his breeches and caked his skin uncomfortably. He stumbled, further sullying his new white shirt, but he never once stopped his onwards charge. In the blackness of the night, he couldn’t see the tangle of rose bushes or sharp branches of trees that pierced his skin. He barely noticed the pain. All he knew was that he needed to leave. He needed to leave this paradise and return to the Church.

Where he belonged.

A flash of lightning illuminated the grounds ahead of him. He’d nearly reached the gate. The gate that bore the mark of an angel of God. Of the Devil, tempting him with kindness and comfort.

BOOM!!

The explosion knocked Nicholas off of his feet. The familiar taste of electricity made his teeth clack together. His muscles locked into place, leaving him stiff and still as a corpse in the muddy drive.

“Nicholas!”

Vash was there before Nicholas could recover his senses, pale as a ghost, eyes wide and glistening with their own contained light. The rain had flattened his golden hair and the darkness had washed out the vivid color of his jacket. He bent down and scooped Nicholas out of the muck as though he weighed next to nothing. Nicholas wrapped his shaking arms around Vash’s neck.

In the next flash of lightning, Nicholas saw something like relief and something like fear and something like guilt all swirled together in Vash’s expression. He didn’t like that look one bit.

One of the servants opened the front door for them. Another hustled them into a small sitting room off of the main entrance. Nicholas was deposited into yet another overstuffed armchair in front of yet another roaring fire. Blankets and towels and the dressing gown from Nicholas’s guest room all appeared in Vash’s hands in an instant, as those around them rushed to make sure Nicholas was alright. Nicholas hoped Vash gave them all the same bonus he’d promised the one who’d brought the bed warmer.

Vampiric claws had shredded Nicholas’s shirt and pants before he’d regained proper control of his limbs. Several of the servants went to work toweling him off, while Vash checked him over for injuries. Nicholas tolerated his scrutiny, even as horror and embarrassment warred for dominance in his chest.

He should have been better. Gone faster. Avoided the lightning. Never gone with Vash in the first place. They shouldn’t all be treating him with such kindness and worry. Not when his monstrous nature had been on display for all to see.

A motherly older woman tapped Nicholas’s forearms until he raised them, then shoved the dressing gown down over his head like she was dressing one of her own children for the night. As Vash had predicted, while the gown fit his shoulders, it was far far too short for his large frame. The lower hem barely reached halfway down his thighs.

Vash appeared in front of him holding a heavy quilt. His eyes swept up Nicholas’s body again before he wrapped the quilt fully around Nicholas, cocooning him in warmth.

As Nicholas once again settled against the cushions, the servants that had been bustling about cleared the room. Vash crouched down in front of him.

“Are you alright? Do we need to send for a doctor?”

Nicholas shook his head violently.

“No doctor?” Vash guessed. When Nicholas nodded, his expression relaxed.

“You really scared me, darling. I’m sorry I had such a bad reaction.”

Nicholas shook his head again. He struggled to find the words he needed to say. He always had plenty of words in his head, but getting them out of his mouth had always been a struggle. Sometimes he’d go for years without speaking more than one or two words. Now, he wanted to try. He wanted to do it better.

This was important.

“Not your fault.”

Vash’s eyes flashed up to meet his. Nicholas almost drowned in his gaze, even though Vash wasn’t actively trying to hypnotize him, but he held onto his sanity by the skin of his teeth. The energy boost from the lightning, now coursing through his veins, helped significantly.

Vash looked down quickly, “I shouldn’t have scared you. If you don’t mind…could you…I wanted to ask…”

He trailed off, clearly unsure how to ask his question. Nicholas knew how to answer though.

“I am…monster. Made of bodies. Dead. Unburied. Put together. Made alive again.”

“Who would do that?” Vash asked, aghast.

“Conrad. Doctor. Dead. Master Chapel said…mad in the snow.”

He didn’t think that made the kind of sense he wanted it to. He hoped it at least answered the question.

Vash nodded as if he understood.

“Master Chapel. Is he the one that gave you those scars?”

Nicholas considered, “Some? Many from bodies. From before.”

Words were getting easier. The lightning helped. Or maybe it was the practice.

Maybe it was Vash.

“I see. But you live with him?”

“At Church. He…keeps me. Conrad said. I am his.”

Vash’s face hardened.

“I…go. Not what you…wanted. Needed.”

“No.”

Nicholas stared at Vash in surprise.

“No, you are never going back there again. I don’t care about drinking from you, Nicholas. That’s a bonus, but I brought you here because I wanted to bring you here. You. Not anyone else. I wouldn’t change today for the world. You understand?”

Nicholas’s eyes itched. He covered them with the back of his hand. Vash’s delicate fingers came up to wrap around his wrist, but he didn’t try to pry Nicholas’s hand away. His gloved thumb rubbed soothing circles over the delicate veins.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. You’re staying right here.”

Nicholas struggled out of the blanket to wrap Vash in a bone-crushing hug. Vash clung back, just as powerful in his hold as Nicholas himself. The strength in his arms grounded Nicholas in a way that nothing else had tonight.

Nicholas had heard that vampires were always cold, but Vash’s heat seared into Nicholas’s core. Maybe vampires were only cold to humans, but Nicholas ran colder than a human himself. To him, Vash’s warmth radiated like the sun.

“Why don’t we get you to bed, huh, big guy?”

Nicholas nodded.

Vash led him back to the same room they’d started in. The rug had been swapped out for another that looked equally as inviting, but otherwise everything was exactly as they had left it. Vash pulled back the blankets and gestured for Nicholas to lay down.

Nicholas had dreamed once of laying on a cloud in Heaven, listening to choirs of angels on high. The bed felt like that dream, made real in Vash’s Heavenly sanctuary.

Vash tucked the blankets in around him. He leaned over and dropped a soft kiss to Nicholas’s forehead, like he imagined a loving parent did for their children.

“Sweet dreams, my Nico,” Vash murmured, “You’re safe now.”

Nicholas hadn’t expected to fall asleep with the aftereffects of the lightning still tingling through his body, but one look at Vash’s eyes and the world faded around him.

He dreamt of apples and cinnamon and chocolate.

Chapter Text

The halls of Saverem Manor, Nicholas learned, were full of secrets. Over the next several days, he learned that the twisting passageways contained rooms that no one had entered for decades, maybe even centuries. From the moment he’d first opened his bedroom door—a concept that still felt alien to him even days later—he’d wanted to explore the vast expanses of the grounds and building. There were wonders here the likes of which he’d never seen.

The first couple of days, he’d stuck close to Vash, partially out of a need for reassurance that he belonged in his foreign Heaven, and partially because spending time around Vash was simply intoxicating. He’d been talking more, attempting to mimic Vash’s full sentences. Making his mouth move around the sounds was still difficult, but practice was making it easier. Vash happily filled any lapses on Nicholas’s part anyways. He could jabber on about anything. Nicholas had learned about his plans for the garden come spring, more gossip about society around the Dusk District than he could ever have hoped to keep in his head, and more history than he had ever learned in the entirety of his time with the Church. Vash had been alive a long time, and he seemed to have seen everything the world had to offer, at least to Nicholas.

Nicholas had also learned quite a few things about vampires that he’d never known before. Garlic made Vash sneeze. Nicholas could not explain why this was adorable. Crosses did nothing to him, despite what the hunters in the Church claimed. He’d returned Nicholas’s rosary the morning after the lightning strike, mentioning that the servants had found it tangled in his other clothes. Only older, stronger vampires could walk out during the day in the sunlight. It could burn or even incinerate younger or weaker vampires. Vash was both old and strong, and therefore quite immune to the sun’s rays.

Most fascinating, Nicholas had learned that Vash was one of only a handful of True Vampires left still alive in the world. His brother was another. They’d been vampires from the moment they’d been born. He had never experienced what it was like to be a human, any more than Nicholas had. Nicholas’s body had been made from the remnants of humans, but Nicholas could remember the lives of none of them. He took a surprising amount of comfort in the fact that both he and Vash lacked that experience together. Neither of them had ever been human, and therefore had nothing of humanity to hold onto.

And on this day, Nicholas had learned that no matter how many servants they may have or how old and experienced they may be, vampires still had to run errands. Nicholas didn’t know what these errands were exactly, only that Vash had told him the night before that he would need to leave and Nicholas would be free to do as he pleased all day long. At first, Nicholas hadn’t known what to do with himself, but Vash’s parting suggestion of “Take a walk! Talk to people here! Explore!” had given him an idea.

He’d spent the past days following Vash like a lost puppy. Today, he would seek out the hidden secrets of Saverem Manor for himself.

With this idea in mind, Nicholas set off from his room like one of the explorers from Livio’s stories, armed with the new loose shirt and pants that Vash had provided for him, a couple of biscuits stolen from the kitchen, and his own wits.

As his first crossroads, Nicholas chose to turn left. Master Chapel said the left hand was the hand of the Devil, and Nicholas currently favored the Devil a bit more than Chapel’s God. So far, every door he’d opened had mostly been bedrooms, sitting rooms, or storage. Places where things piled up and were forgotten. He thought he must have entered a guest suite of some sort, because all of the first hallway he walked down were these sorts of rooms. Certainly, there were some treasures buried within those rooms that had become overstuffed with items over the years, but they priceless antiquities weren’t what Nicholas was hoping to find in his quest today.

The next decision point came when Nicholas reached the end of his current hallway. A lovely stained glass window, as elaborate as anything in the Church’s cathedral, took up the tall wall created by an ornate staircase. The image depicted two blond men, one clothed in red and the other in white, wrapped in flowering vines and backlit by a starry nighttime sky. Nicholas suspected the figure in red was Vash, meaning the white figure opposite him was his brother, the infamous Nai Saverem.

At least, the way Vash talked about him made him sound infamous. Looking at the stained glass depiction though, Nicholas thought that the one that deserved notoriety was not Nai, but Vash. At least he deserved notoriety for his grace, and beauty, and kindness. He simply looked warmer to Nicholas than Nai did. Softer. Prettier.

Nicholas shook his head and considered the options before him.

Up or down?

Nicholas chose down. A few steps into the new hallway proved it to be a set of apartments, all grand to Nicholas’s eyes, but plainer than the hand-carved bed frames and artifacts of the previous guest wing.

This must be where the servants lived.

After the first two rooms Nicholas entered—and immediately felt he was intruding in based on their lived-in states—he decided to move on from this area and find the next realm of this vast foreign land. Before he crossed the border into the next wing, though, he found a single pedestal in the middle of a four-way intersection of the hallways. In the middle of that pedestal, an incongruous bouquet of red flowers bloomed.

Nicholas had never heard of flowers blooming in the fall.

On closer inspection, he realized the vase had a ring of runes carved along the rim. The vase must be like so many of the magical items Vash seemed to collect like a crow collecting shiny trinkets. Many of them came from his artificer friends, who had bequeathed him with a number of items over the years, but others he’d gathered over time. Compared to the other magical items Nicholas guessed were hidden within the Manor’s walls, a vase that kept flowers continually blooming seemed lovely, but trivial.

Thud.

Nicholas looked down to see what had hit him. On the floor at his feet, a child no more than ten held a small box to his chest. He looked up at Nicholas with wide blue eyes.

“Sorry.”

The child shook his head. Nicholas offered him his hand. After a moment of consideration, the child wrapped his little hand around two of Nicholas’s fingers and allowed Nicholas to pull him to his feet.

For a moment, they just stared at each other.

The box in the boy’s hands caught his eye. Hand painted flowers once decorated the lid, but someone had taken something sharp and drilled several little holes into it.

Nicholas gave the boy a questioning look and pointed at the box.

The child gave him a wide, gap-toothed grin and held the box out for Nicholas’s inspection.
Nicholas touched the lid. Shielding the opening, the boy lifted it, allowing Nicholas to peer inside.

Two large beetles, both an iridescent green, scuttled around inside. Nicholas noted a small stick and some leaves tossed into the container for them.

One of the beetles opened its wings in a bid for freedom. Nicholas gently blocked its escape with his hand. It tumbled back into the box. The boy giggled.

Nicholas considered. He didn’t know much about beetles, but he knew the ones around here typically liked leaf litter and fallen leaves, especially at this time of year. After a moment of watching them circle each other with the boy, Nicholas reached up and plucked one of the red flowers from the vase.

The moment it left the protective safety of its container, the petals and leaves of the flower withered. Nicholas offered the wilting flower to the boy.

With an excited little noise Nicholas had heard himself make on rare occasions when he was younger, the boy dropped the flower into the box. One of the beetles wandered over with interest. It nibbled on a dying leaf.

The boy closed the box and gave Nicholas a surprise one-armed hug. Nicholas gave him a wide smile in response. He liked it when kids smiled.

“Tonis.”

These were the first words this boy had said to Nicholas during the entire exchange. Nicholas understood his meaning.

“Nicholas,” he answered.

Tonis smiled at him, then walked around him with his closed box. With a big goodbye wave, he disappeared into one of the servants’ rooms.

Nicholas continued on.

The next short hallway ended abruptly at a pair of wide double doors. They looked heavy, and had delicate swirls of leaves and vines carved into the frames, curling up along the edges of the doorway and culminating in two thick metal handles.

Nicholas tugged the door open.

He shouldn’t have called them doors. They were a portal. A portal into the most breathtaking room Nicholas had ever laid eyes on.

Beyond the threshold, two—possibly even three floors—of space were open into one great chamber. Internal sets of stairs led to long balconies circling the central court. Everywhere Nicholas looked, thick carpets, plump sofas, and overstuffed armchairs created cozy little seating places. Some of these areas were accompanied by sturdy desks and tables, many of them groaning under the weight of trinkets and papers and…

Books.

The walls were lined with them too. Shelves upon shelves stretching up to the ceiling. A massive Tower of Babel straight to Heaven itself. More words—more stories—existed in this place than Nicholas could learn in a hundred human lifetimes. The worlds contained in this room could populate a thousand universes.

Not for the first time, Nicholas wished he could read.

He approached the table nearest to the door. On it, a pile of several books had been stacked precariously. They threatened to topple as Nicholas plucked the first one from the top. He was met with an incomprehensible wall of text. Lines and loops and whorls all completely indecipherable to Nicholas’s near non-existent ability. Sadly, he set the book back down on the pile, but he tipped the already tentative balance and the whole lot of them went tumbling to the floor.

Nicholas reached to pick them up and stack them more carefully this time. As he did, he noticed that one of the books had fallen open. On one page, another unfathomable block of text greeted him, but on the other, an angel, wings spread wide and glittering golden halo around his head, wielded a flaming sword. Fascinated, Nicholas scooped up the book.

He may not have been able to read the text, but he knew the images of the Bible intimately. He flipped through some more pages.

Another angel caught his eye. Much like the stained glass window in the Church he loved so much, this one depicted a six-winged archangel, gilded in flames, blowing a trumpet to a Heaven full of clouds. An army of angels arose behind him, all shining off the page in gold and white and blue.

Nicholas stared hard at the archangel. At his soft, captivating face, his shining blue eyes, his sweet golden curls. The long lines of his limbs and powerful aura of his wings. He may as well have been Vash, lovingly detailed in artist’s rendering onto the pages of this ancient Bible.
Reverently, Nicholas laid the Bible, open to the picture of the beautiful angel, at the center of the table, clearing a space for it amongst a clutter of little trinkets.

He went back to tidying the fallen books. Every once and a while, he’d glance over at the image of the angel. Even if Vash was missing this morning, it felt like Vash was here, in the room with him.

Nicholas made a mental note to return to this place with Vash next time. He would save exploring it any further until then. He closed the doors behind him as he left.

Eventually, as Nicholas continued his quest through the corridors, he happened upon the kitchen. One of the servants was in there, a dark haired, brown skinned woman whose name Nicholas didn’t know. She was up to her elbows in soap suds, scrubbing away at the dishes Nicholas had cleared the night before.

“Help?” Nicholas asked.

She looked up at him.

Nicholas tried again. Full sentences. He had been practicing.

“Do you…need help?”

“Oh! No, dear, it’s alright.”

Her voice was smoky. Deeper than Nicholas had expected. It rolled over him like a heavy warm blanket. He liked it immediately.

“I…want to.”

She turned to face him, drying her hands on a towel she pulled from the pocket of her apron.
After a moment of consideration, she said, “Why don’t you help me dry this stack of plates then?”

Nicholas had never done that before. Master Chapel would never allow him to handle something so fine.

“How?”

“I’ll show you. I’m Rosa, by the way.”

“Nicholas.”

“Nice to officially meet you, Nicholas. Now come over here.”

Two steps took Nicholas from the doorway to the open space next to Rosa. She handed him a clean towel.

“All you have to do,” she said, making a swirling motion with the towel in her hands, “Is wipe the water off the plate with the towel. Then put it in this rack here.”

She indicated a metal rack set on the counter next to the washbasin. Nicholas nodded his understanding.

She handed him the first plate.

They truly were delicate dishes. When Nicholas took it from her, it cracked right down the middle under his grip. Horror and anxiety made Nicholas step away.

“No, no, you’re alright.” Rosa smiled warmly at him, not a trace of anger in her eyes, “Master Vash forgets his own strength too sometimes.”

Tentative now, Nicholas stepped forward again.

“Why don’t you practice on that plate first, since it’s already cracked. When you’re ready, I’ll give you the next one.”

“Okay.”

Nicholas picked up the plate again. The crack widened.

Nicholas set it down.

“Try again.”

Nicholas picked up the plate again. It snapped in half.

He looked sadly between the two halves. He was beginning to think he couldn’t help after all. He set broken pieces down.

“One more time, dear,” Rosa said.

Nicholas oh so carefully picked up one half of the plate. It didn’t shatter or crack. Hesitantly, Nicholas rubbed the towel over the broken half.

It worked.

Nicholas turned to Rosa and smiled.

“Wow, now I know why Master Vash is so smitten,” she laughed. She handed him a new plate. Nicholas dried this one and sat it on the rack.

He wanted to crow to the ceiling at his success.

The next handful of dishes passed smoothly between them. As they worked, Rosa started humming a little tune. After a few minutes, Nicholas picked up the melody and whistled along.

“I’m so happy to see you two getting along!”

Nicholas startled so badly he dropped the plate he was holding. He scrambled to pick up the pieces.

Vash squawked. One moment, he was standing in the door of the kitchen. The next he was crouched directly in front of Nicholas.

Those tinted shades did almost nothing to hide his bewitching eyes.

“I’m so sorry, darling. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Nicholas held back a snort. For all his speed, his ungraceful entrance a moment before was completely incongruous with the sweet expression he wore now. And yet, Nicholas believed both were completely real this time.

“Fine.”

Wait. Full sentences.

“It’s fine.”

Better.

He looked down at the broken shards of plate on the ground. This one had gold linework and little red flowers circling the edges. He hated that he had destroyed that beauty.

Vash reached over the mess to put a hand under Nicholas’s chin and tilt his head up, “It was my fault. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

How the hell was he so good at reading Nicholas? No one else did that.

Kneeling together, Vash and Nicholas picked up the broken pieces.

When they were done, they stood side by side at the counter and finished drying the dishes for Rosa. Between the three of them, the chore was completed in record time.

Nicholas had never known another lord to stand shoulder to shoulder with a servant and do dishes. The image of the angel in the Bible in the library appeared in his mind.

“Vash?”

“Yes?”

“Could…I read?”

Vash turned to look at him in confusion. Try again. Full sentences.

“Could I…learn…to read?”

“Oh, sweetheart!” Vash turned wide, shining eyes on him. Those eyes should be illegal. Even with the shades, Nicholas was lost.

“I would love to teach you to read.”

Nicholas blinked. Reading. Right.

He smiled. Vash feigned melting into a puddle.

Dramatic little vampire. But Nicholas liked his theatrics.

“Have you found the library yet?”

“Yes.”

“Excellent! Then we can start first thing tomorrow! You’re so smart, I’m sure you’ll pick it up quickly.”

Dumbfounded, Nicholas stared at Vash. No one had ever said that about him before. Before he could overthink it, he reached forward and dragged Vash into a crushing hug.

Vash choked, then laughed. He seemed to understand Nicholas’s sudden affection.

“You’re brilliant. Truly. Don’t let anyone ever tell you otherwise.”

The words were whispered into the shell of his ear. Nicholas shuddered. He buried his face down into Vash’s hair.

Huh? He smelled more like blood than he usually did. The fancy, flowery perfume he used couldn’t quite cover it.

When they pulled apart, Nicholas looked down at Vash.

“You smell.”

Vash made an affronted noise.

That was probably rude. But the noise Vash made was funny, and he clearly wasn’t really mad. Maybe being rude sometimes was okay if he got a reaction like that.

“Like blood,” he clarified.

“Oh!” Vash’s cheeks turned a fetching shade of pink, “Um. I swear it was completely platonic blood drinking. Nothing else happened. You don’t have to worry about that at all!”

What?

What was Vash talking about?

“It’s okay,” Nicholas said, because Vash seemed distressed, “You…need. To eat.”

Vash smiled at him, warm and soft. Those were the best Vash smiles.

“Why don’t we go for a walk in the gardens! There are some late-blooming roses in the eastern flowerbed that I think you’ll love!”

“I would…like that.”

Nicholas looked around and realized at some point during their conversation Rosa had quietly made her exit. He’d been so focused on Vash, he hadn’t noticed. He would have to thank her another time.

He offered Vash his arm, mimicking how they had walked on the first day. Vash took it. Together, they strolled to the garden doors.