#spooktober going out on the highest of highs!

[narumi-gens]

Mel’s Spooktober 31 for 31

October 31

31 for 31 👻🎉

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[green-eyeddragonfanfiction]

The Count of Ferelden

Pairing: Vampire!Alistair x Female!Cousland!Reader Summary: Every other generation, the 2nd born of house Cousland goes up to the castle, sacrificing themselves so that the town might be safe for years to come. It’s your turn, as the younger Cousland, to take up the mantle. But the monster in the castle isn’t what you expected. For starters, he rambles and is easily one of the least graceful men you’ve ever met. Word Count: ~3,206 A/N: This is the sixth Monster!Character one shot for Spooktober 2018! If you’d like to be tagged in other Spooktober stories like this one, check out this post! Send me Spooktober requests for Monster!Character fics you want to see!

Masterlist // The Monster Series Collection

The finest silks that felt like flowing water on your skin. A parade the likes of which was only seen in Highever once in a generation. Smiling faces and loud cheers.

You barely saw it as you passed by the waving townspeople. Rose and Daisy petals fluttered to the ground, staining the rough grey stone white.

Fergus, Oriana, Oren, and your parents were waiting at the edge of town, surrounded by the largest group of Ferelden revelers yet.

You stopped closest to your brother and you knew it was only tradition that stopped him from reaching out for your hand (which you recognized dimly was shaking). The conversation from a week ago flashed in your mind.

“It should be me going, not you! Everyone knows you’re stronger than me. You’’ be a better ruler than I’ll ever be.”

You stared at Fergus with a melancholy smile. “Physical strength isn’t all there is to ruling. You know that. Regardless, you have a wife and child, Fergus. I know you’re not considering abandoning them.”

That made Fergus stand up straight, lips pressed in a tight line. From the way he didn’t immediately protest, you knew you’d won.

“I’m going to the castle tomorrow, brother, and nothing can stop it. It’s my duty as the second child born to house Cousland.”

His eyes were stormy but a second later he was closing the distance between you and sweeping you up in a bone-crushing hug. “I’m sorry, sister. I’m so, so sorry.”

You hugged him back fiercely, allowing yourself this single moment of weakness before you let him go and smiled. “I would do anything to keep you, our family, and our people safe, Ferg.”

It was a lie. You were scared. You wanted to turn your horse around and run for the hills. But you stared forward, giving your family a brave nod, face a stony mask.

You nudged your horse onward and Fergus dropped your hand, a tired, strained smile on his face. Now was not the time for goodbyes; now was the time for revelry. The terynir would be safe for another generation. Mothers wouldn’t have to worry about their children. Wives wouldn’t fret over whether or not their husbands would come home from the woods and fields. Children wouldn’t grow up having to know what it was like to live without a parent.

The tradition was old, dating back to before the Cousland family even existed. Some say it went back to when the peoples of Ferelden called themselves Alamarri.

You weren’t the first and you wouldn’t be the last.

The people stopped following about halfway to the castle, having long grown tired and wary of the surrounding forests and rolling hillsides. You didn’t blame them, really. Until you passed through the gates to the castle grounds they wouldn’t know if they’d be safe.

As it was, you realized that you’d grown numb to the dread until you spotted the highest spires of the castle through the trees. Terror coiled in the pit of your stomach and you realized that you should relax (getting thrown by your spooked horse would only make this that much more painful), but that was easier said than done.

Still, your bitter march continued until, finally, the castle grounds came into sight. You could see the winding path up to the castle through the large, imposing wrought iron gate and gulped.

This was it.

This was the day you died.

You dismounted when you got close enough and checked the old mare’s saddle. Satisfied it wouldn’t shift or rub her wrong, you undid her bridle and gave her a large smack on her haunch, watching forlornly as she huffed in fear and immediately bolted back towards the city. You couldn’t find it in yourself to care that she’d kicked up mud onto your pristine white silk dress. You hated the thing anyway.

Hesitantly, you reached forward and pressed gently on the gate, eyes widening in surprised as it opened the second your fingertips touched the chilly metal.

“Right, because that’s not creepy at all,” you muttered, wincing as it creaked so loudly you were sure it’d wake the dead.

You held your head high, ears perked for any sound as you walked up the winding path towards the castle. The creature in the castle had no love for its shrubbery, if the state of the grounds was anything to go by.

More than once your dress brushed against the dried leaves on the ground, nearly scaring you out of your skin. You glanced up at the windows, thinking you saw movement, but when your eyes zeroed in on it there was nothing there.

But then you were at the front doors. You’d been half expecting for the creature to jump out of a bush at you, or something, but why do that when your prey had to come to you?

You raised a hand and grasped one of the gigantic brass knockers which was more intricate than anything you had back at Castle Cousland. The knock reverberated, deep and echoing, and the doors (which must have been twice your height or more) swung inwards with nary a whisper, which was a startling contrast to the gate out front.

“Hello?”

It was a stupid reflex that you wanted to take back as soon as it was out of your mouth.

You jumped about a foot in the air when a loud crashing noise came from the top of the grand staircase in front of you, followed by, “Andraste’s tits!” A moment later a man- and it was a man, if you could believe your eyes- appeared at the top of the stairs. He took one look at you and your clothing, glanced outside, then cursed so quietly under his breath that you couldn’t hear the finer details. Something along the lines of “mabari shite” and “applesauce.” “Is it that time already? I could have sworn they only sent someone up a few years ago.”

You gaped at the man who, even from this far away, you could tell was handsome. Strawberry blond hair, an unfairly sharp jawline, and pink lips that you were sure most women would be envious of.

Instead of continuing to gawk, you schooled your features. “Are you he who I was sent here to meet?” you asked, thankful your voice sounded more confident than you felt.

He shifted nervously. “I suppose so. You are from Castle Cousland, right? Not just a very, very lost... runaway bride?” he asked, looking you up and down again before he looked away a little awkwardly.

Something... wasn’t right. But you had a job to do. “I am (Y/N) Cousland, here to offer myself so that you might spare the people of Highever your wrath.”

To your surprise, he groaned and plopped down heavily onto the stairs, head cradled between his hands. “Oh hound’s arse, not again...” he murmured, just loud enough for you to hear. He let out a long-suffering sigh and pinned you with a tentative look. “Well, it’s awkward enough talking to you from the top of the stairs. Could I at least show you to your room or something? I can look around for some human-friendly food, too, if you’d like.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder, likely towards a room deeper in the house.

But you didn’t move and stared at him, off-kilter but refusing to fall for his tricks. “If I’m to die in this place I’d rather do it now. I have little patience for games and mind tricks.”

To your surprise he flopped backwards onto the plush carpet, then sneezed when the kicked-up dust tickled his nose. “This happens every time. Just what do you people think I do?” you heard him mutter. If you didn’t know any better he sounded almost.. exasperated? Distraught?

You raised an eyebrow and crossed your arms over your chest. “I dunno, eat people?”

The words were out before you could stop them and you froze in terror as he sat up abruptly and fixed you with an amused half smile. “Was that a sense of humor I heard, peeking through the sheer terror?”

Stop talking stop talking stop talking “Well, what’s the worst that could happen? You kill me?” Idiot. Andraste’s arse I’m an idiot. 

He stared at you for a second, jaw going slack with surprise, before he guffawed out a hearty laugh. You opened your mouth to say something when he began to quiet, only for your mouth to snap shut when his laughter only grew, filling the halls with a not wholly unpleasant sound.

After what felt like a small eternity he wiped the tears from the corner of his eyes, bright smile showcasing two dagger-sharp teeth that immediately had you tensing up again.

The smile slowly slipped off his face and he scratched at the back of his neck awkwardly. “I’m not actually going to eat you, you know.”

“I don’t believe you.” You wouldn’t let your fear show. Your hands were fisted into the fine material of your dress; you wouldn’t let this creature see your hands shake.

But he only sighed deeply again and made no real move to get up. “Yes, you people never do. I write a letter every year- after about thirty drafts, mind you- and send it down to the castle, but I never get a response. And yet, they continue to send people up every fifty years or so. I tried to go down and explain it to them in person once, but they chased me off with torches and pitchforks! Pitchforks! As though I’d be afraid of some farming equipment. Still, they made it plenty clear I wasn’t wanted there, so I headed back to this drafty old place. Do you know how absolutely, dreadfully boring it is, living in this big house all alone? I’ve started talking to the paintings and-” He paused and ran a hand down his face. “I’m rambling like a loon. Sorry, I know you’re not here to listen to my frankly pathetic life story. Would you like to see your room now?”

The monologue nearly gave you whiplash, but when he stared at you expectantly you blinked dumbly, confused out of your mind. You were still stuck on the first bit (and determinedly ignored the middle bit in which he talked about being very lonely). “So no eating me? Boiling my bones in a soup pot? Making my innards into sausage?” you asked, glaring at him.

But he balked, mouth opening and closing like a fish for a few beats before he found his words. “What? Of course not! Is that what the lot of you think I do up here? There’s a bit of nibbling at most.” He said the last part quietly and quickly, as though you might not hear it if he did.

“Some nibbling?” you trilled, angry and fearful in equal measures.

But he was frantically waving away your outburst, eyes wide. “Only if you agree, of course! I’d never bite you without your permission!”

“Why would I ever give you permission to bite me?” you asked, incredulous. Not only was he a vampire, he was an insane vampire.

He groaned and buried his face in his hands. “Why am I always such rubbish at this talking thing?” He let out a year’s worth of sighs and peered at you from between his fingers. “I think we got off on the wrong foot. My name is Alistair. This is my castle. I’m a vampire. I won’t bite you unless you give me permission to do so. I spend most of my time fighting Darkspawn, but it takes a lot of my energy so I made a deal with the original rulers of the town down the hill: I would continue to protect them from the monsters in the night and, in return, they’d send someone every other generation who I could occasionally feed from to keep up my strength. Drinking goat blood isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, you know... They make good cheese, though.”

But you only scowled harder. “So you are going to eat me.”

He threw his hands up in the air and opened his mouth, likely to yell his frustration, but he merely snapped his mouth shut and slumped backwards onto the landing, once again coughing as he kicked up all the dust on the ground. “That would be a waste of a perfectly lovely woman,” you heard him mutter. The kindness of his sentiment was somewhat ruined by the fact that you were here against your will and his followup of, “What is it with you people and not hearing a word I say? I swear the original townsfolk weren’t this dense...”

“Excuse me?” you asked, eyebrow raised.

He raised his head enough to peer down at you, surprised. “Did I say that out loud?”

“Yes.” You tilted your chin up and glared at him defiantly.

His head hit the solid oak floor with a resounding thud and you nearly winced at how painful it sounded, but he only sighed deeply. “I swear this goes worse every time...” he muttered forlornly.

You stared at the pathetic pile of vampire, confusion crinkling your brow. This wasn’t how you expected today to go at all.

Without taking your eyes off of him or turning around, you took a step backwards, towards the grand doors. He didn’t so much as twitch so you took another step, then another.

It wasn’t until you reached blindly for the handle and found it that you stopped and stared at him. He hadn’t moved an inch, but you had a sneaking suspicion that he was able to hear you.

Yet he hadn’t moved to stop you so you took your chance and turned away.

You got as far as turning the handle before you froze and you turned back to look at him. “Did you mean it? About keeping my people safe in exchange for... my help?”

He finally sat up slowly and smoothly (it was a little disconcerting how he seemed to defy gravity) and, even as far away from him as you were, you could see him looking at you, unblinking and earnest. “Yes. I meant every word.”

You looked away, still half expecting him to pounce on you the moment you weren’t looking, and clenched your hands into the fabric of your dress. When you raised your head again, your jaw was set in determination. “Then I’ll stay.”

His face lit up like mage fire, bright smile changing his whole demeanor instantly. “Really? I don’t even have to grovel or anything? I was ready to grovel.”

You couldn’t help the smirk that slid onto your face. “I could go for some nice boot-licking, actually.”

He practically floated down the stairs, a startling contrast to his noisy entrance. You kept your posture as relaxed and confident as you could as he slowly made his way towards you. From the way he was holding himself it seemed a though he was trying to appear less intimidating (it didn’t work).

He stopped barely two feet away, close enough that you could see each individual wave of his hair and the flecks of brown in his hazel eyes. “My lady, I bid you welcome and thank you for your kind assistance.” His grin was charming as he bowed deeply, one hand going around his waist while his other took your hand in his. You fought the urge to pull away at his chilly touch, but his lips were soft and gentle when they placed a light kiss to your knuckles.

And then he straightened and you found a leather boot in your face, held there by the vampire, who was trying his best (and nearly failing) to hold in a laugh at the look on your face.

You stared at him, confused beyond measure, and he burst into laughter. The noise was bright and cheerful. Almost like magic, it was as though the halls around you could sense the change in the master of the house’s mood and they seemed slightly less daunting.

“You said you would enjoy some boot-licking. I thought I’d offer mine up, being the generous, selfless man that I am,” he managed to get out between barely-muffled laughter.

You stared at him, open-mouthed, before you burst into giggles. Your laughter only seemed to make his return twofold and, before long, both of you were doubled over. The laughter died down and you stared at each other, smiles pulling up the corners of your mouths. You wiped the tears out of the corners of your eyes and you grinned at him, eyebrows waggling. “Well, you know what they say: You scratch my back...”

“You lick my boot?” he finished, eyes twinkling with mirth.

You dissolved into giggles again, reaching out to steady yourself on his shoulder.

Both of you froze at the same time and the moment hung suspended the air.

He reached for your hand and took it in his, gently rubbing circles into your palm with his thumb. “I truly am grateful. And... I relish the chance to get to know you.”

You ignored the way your heart fluttered at his words and the feeling of his hand around yours. He was... more different than you could have ever imagined, but perhaps this would not be a fate you had to fear.

You blinked innocently up at him, giving nothing away, and said in the sweetest voice you could manage, “Now that’s the sort of brown-nosing I could get used to.”

He snorted and laughed a big, full belly laugh that had you grinning along with him.

“But if I’m going to stay here you’re going to help me scrub every inch of this castle clean.”

His laughter stopped abruptly and he gave you a look that was so reminiscent of a mabari pup that you nearly reached up to pat his head. “All of it?”

“Yes, all of it.”

He looked around guiltily, face getting more and more scrunched with horror the longer he looked. “Perhaps... we can start that tomorrow?”

But you were shaking your head. You dropped his hand so you could clutch at the bottom of the dress and, with an almighty tug, ripped a large slit up the side.

His hands flew to his face and you had no doubts that, if he still had a heart that beat, blood would have flooded his faintly freckled cheeks. “What are you- This is uh-”

You smirked and brushed past him, hands on your hips as you looked around, searching for a good place to start. “Can’t clean in this dress’ damned skirt. Not enough leg room. You going to assist me or not, pretty boy?” You smiled at him over your shoulder, challenging and excited. This... this could be the start of something amazing.

He swallowed thickly and nodded, gaze trained firmly on your face. “No. Wait, yes. Uh, whatever it is you just said- whichever one means I agree.”

You turned to look at him, smile becoming a little softer, and you held your hand out for him. “Come on, then. We have lots of work to do.”

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