#three hints about comte

[phandomtaleweaver]

“Chien de Garde”

No parings, fluff, humor, 700+ words

New to the team, Finka always get the feeling she’s being watched when she talks to Doc, Monty might be able to tell her why

(Please don’t come at me for my French or Russian, I used google translate)

Only a week after the team had returned from Truth and Consequences, Finka visited Doc in the med bay for the first time. The conversation had been innocuous, some follow up about the Chimera Virus. The doctor had been working in the main area of the med bay, rather than his office. After leaving Lera couldn’t shake the feeling that she and the doctor were being watched. Nothing terribly sinister, just the simple feeling of being observed. Thinking back, Finka didn’t remember seeing anyone else in there, as Jäger, the only patient, had moved back to his own room, where he was far more comfortable.

Over the next couple of weeks Lera noticed the same feeling, but only when she was talking to Doctor Kateb. She thought about asking him about it, or Oliver, except the latter might start a fight. Finally, after three weeks, Lera had had enough, so she approached the next closest person to Gustave to see if he knew anything: Gilles “Montagne” Toures.

She approached him one quiet evening in the common room. Most other operators were doing their own things elsewhere or had gone out to the pub for a pint and Lera and Gilles were virtually alone in the common area. Gilles sat on a couch reading a book titled Le Comte de Monte-Cristo. She sat on a chair catty corner to him and he looked up.

“Um, hello, Toures, I hope I’m not interrupting your reading.”

The older man chuckled, a rich, warm sound and shook his head. He then inclined his head for her to continue.

“I have an odd question, but one I don’t know who else to ask,” she watched his face for any adverse reaction, but none came. He merely maintained his previous warm expression, waiting patiently for her to continue. “Do you ever feel like you're being watched when you talk to Doctor Kateb?”

The Frenchman looked incredulous then seemed to think for a moment. “Non,” he finally responded. “But I may know what you are-” he paused searching for the word “-signifier, oh, what you mean.” He stopped speaking, realizing his faulty English was probably hard to understand. “I know, what the feeling you have, I understand it. You are aware of Gustave’s “Chien de Garde”. His, uh, guard dog.”

“His guard dog?”

“Oui, I can introduce you.”

“Why not?” Lera chuckled, still slightly confused.

Gilles stood and beckoned for her to follow him, “Viens.”

The two walked to the med bay together in companionable silence, and a bit of anticipation on Lera’s part. Upon arriving Lera saw the med bay looked empty, aside from the doctor organizing something. The minute they were fully in the room, the CBRN specialist felt like she was being watched.

“Bonsoir, Docteur,” Gilles greeted.

“Salut, vieil ami. добрый вечер, Lera. What brings the two of you here so late? Not an injury I hope.”

“Non,” Gilles smiled, with just the slightest hint of mischief in his eyes. “Lera wanted to meet your Chien de Garde.”

The Doctor rolled his eyes and shook his head. “He is in my office if you wish to speak with him.” He turned back to what he was doing.

“Not any more,” a voice said from the doorway of the aforementioned office. Lera looked and there stood Dominic Brunsmeir. Lera had never met the man formally, but he had been waiting for the team when they had returned from T&C, only to remain at Jager’s side till he was released back to his own room. She had heard jokes and whispers about him possibly being a drug dealer, though she doubted that. She realized in that moment that his intense blue eyes observing her was the feeling she had felt all those times talking with the doctor.

“I don’t see why you find it necessary to terrorize everyone, Dom,” Gustave sighed, breaking the silence.

“I'm not terrorizing anyone, artz, just keeping you company,” the German smiled, attempting to look innocent and failing.

“You are as good at keeping me company as Tania would be, you just like to lurk,” the doctor shot him a faux glare. Then turning to Lera he continued. “He hangs around me to make sure no one bullies me, though I don't need it. I think he just likes to scare people, hence the nickname Gilles and Julien have given him: Chien de Garde.”

[greypetrel]

How’s about…. Aisling and Cullen, for the “assist” one? 😁

Hi noonie!

Sorry for being a little late, I waited for the right inspiration for this and it was late in coming.

We’re post-Trespasser, two Red Jennies and one Red John are planning shenanigans. uwu (the second headcanon about Cullen I won't let go of, is that he actually has fun in the Red Jenny missions.)

Tis the prompt list.

Oh and if you want to know more about deadly hatpins...

Looking Up.

[ assist ] for your muse to help mine with their appearance (braiding hair, fixing tie etc)

Sharing a room with his wife and Sera now counted amongst Cullen’s worst nightmares.

He knew well before they grew intimate that Aisling was messy. He knew that she tended to spread physically in any environment she occupied. He spent night after night running after her and folding her clothes, and knew what he was going into when he asked her to marry him and they bought the farm. He knew.

What he didn’t know was that her chaos only spread further and became out of control when Sera was around.

It started innocently enough: they got back from their mission in Denerim -the first time Aisling felt ready to get back on the field- and they were both overly enthusiastic about the results.

“You should have seen him!” Aisling had exclaimed, with the biggest, happiest smile he saw on her in years. “Covered in pink paint and glitters, from head to waist, and dripping all over the carpet!”.

They had been so happy telling Dagna and him about how angry Arl Teagan had been (they got the hint from one of the maids at his service, and after the Exalted Council it had been more of a pleasure than a duty). So happy, that when Aisling turned to him and proposed him to come with them the next time, he answered instinctively that yes, of course.

After all now he could admit it: working on Sera’s whimsical missions during the Inquisition had been the most amusing part of the job, and he still remembered with a smile the occasions. He was pretty sure that Aisling had noticed, after the first time, and had kept assigning those mission to him on purpose. Not that he had ever complained about it. And so, how different could it be to work on another mission with both of them, now? Now that they were all more relaxed, and more than anything, now that it meant doing something that could help people, was less frustrating than learning how to repair an old thatched roof, and also that made Aisling happy. Maker knew she needed something good right now, after the last year of settling down to a quiet life and learning again to do even the most basic things with half an arm gone and her world shattered in pieces.

So here they were, in the room that has been assigned to them in Jader’s palace, all three crammed together in the tiny space -enough for two people there on a leisure journey, clearly too small for three people and too many weapons they hid in their luggage. But Sera’s presence hadn’t been signalled to the Comte, and it was vital that they appeared to be alone, there. Even if it meant all three trying to get ready for the day without stepping too much on each other’s feet.

Even if it meant that the barracks for recruits at the Templar facility he trained as a teen had been tidier and less chaotic. At least Aisling was a mage, and with a quick glyph on the door and the walls, the room was soundproofed.

A small mercy, because the two elves were now talking one above the other, asking where that dagger was and whether the other saw the spare bow string or that pair of socks, and indicating the placing of the items with a precision Cullen didn’t understand. Because by all means, it looked like something exploded in the little room, and that something were the saddle bags with their belongings.

“No, it’s in the other bag!”

“You told me the one in the corner!”

“Yes, but in the left corner!”

“Your left or mine?”

“Yours!”

“Piss, I thought it was yours. Just tell me arm or no arm, next time, it’s easier.”

“Whatever, are you sure you have enough jars? Did we make enough yesterday?”

“Yes, mom.”

Cullen, sitting on the bed intent on tying a stupidly high amount of buttons on the back of Aisling’s dress, didn’t put one word between the two, before it all started in more bickering and voices raising as it happened the evening before when he tried to tell them that they were bottling up fire jars too close to the curtains and both took it personally because both knew what they were doing.

(and then a spark fell on the curtain and they both begrudgingly moved away.)

But as they started debating on the optimal way to open the locker that was their target there, and Aisling started insisting that Sera should use one of her enchanted jars before, just in case there was a magical sigil on the lock, Cullen decided it was enough.

“Can we please revise the plan, now?” He asked, as he slipped the last button in its buttonhole and patted Aisling’s shoulder to signal he was done with that.

Sera huffed loudly, tying the apron of the servant livery they got from the local Jenny at the small of her back. He knew her enough to read it as an affirmative.

“Yes. We two meet with Comte Gerard and ask for fundings for the clinic. We drag him out in the garden, the stables if we can.” Aisling started, as she fixed her bodice better on her waist and turned around, placing one foot up on the bed, near Cullen’s thigh and dragging the blue skirt up to her hip.

“Urgh please let me go in the bathroom if you’re being handsy.” Sera complained, utterly ignored by the other two, as Cullen tied a harness around the thigh that was offered to him, with a little sheath fit for a dagger. “When you loveybirds are done smooching and making me miss my Widdle and will finally drag the old geezer out, I’ll slip out the room and find my way to the treasury.”

“The guards?” Cullen asked, checking that the belt was secure before sheathing the dagger in its scabbard.

It wasn’t much, and he would have been way calmer if Aisling had accepted to let Dagna try again with another prosthetic, one that could maybe work as a mage staff. He knew she could cast without one, losing in precision, but he couldn’t help feeling worried. Should Sera be discovered, they would have needed to open their way out of the palace and run. She slipped her foot back down, and turned to offer him her left side, so he could pin the sleeve up in place with another secret weapon: a big pin, one of those used for hats, that he slipped to pin the sleeve in place. It had been sharpened so it could actually be used as another weapon, and he was extremely careful, now, not to puncture her stub with it, accidentally.

“Our Friend will take care of them.” Sera continued, fixing her livery and the ruffle over her head with a scrunch of her nose. She indeed looked pretty ridiculous with that conservative cut, and the broad ruffled collar. “I’ll pretend I’m one of the serving girls until I’ll get the signal, then slip in the treasury and retrieve the documents.”

Both husband and wife turned to look at her, expecting. Enough to make the rogue roll her eyes at the roof emphatically, with a loud groan.

“Yes, yes, I’ll check that the lock won’t be enchanted with the blighted enchanted jars, so it will actually open. Catch the documents, get back here, use the documents to prove that Comte Whatever actually hired those Venatori, substitute him with a better one. Happy now?”

“Thank you, Sera.” Aisling giggled at the display, sitting on the bed to slip in and tie the simplified leg wraps Dagna made her. They were pliant leather, basically soft boots without a sole, tying under the arch of the foot and locked in place with a strap at the ankle. Enchanted as her old wraps had been, so her foot could be warm and protected from injuries, it was just easier to wear and tie with one hand, and it had improved her mood considerably.

“Yeah yeah, if you smoochers are ready, we can get it on, I’m tired of Cully-Wully looking like he ate a frog.”

Cullen scoffed. “If you could both just be a little tidier, I wouldn’t-”

His answer was Sera blowing him a raspberry, not letting him finish. Aisling giggled more, and patted his thigh twice, in a soothing motion.

“Don’t touch the mess, it’s all organized.” She told him, turning to peck a kiss on his lips. “You’ll have to bear with it just for another day, I’m sure you can endure it.”

“I am not sure, another couple of hours and your chaos will spread so that the floor won’t be visible anymore.”

“And then all your hair will grow straight from the horror, and you’ll have to thank us.” Sera laughed, checking that all her weapons were in place another time.

“See?” Aisling added, smiling with a glint of mischief. “We’re actually doing you a favour!”

He couldn’t help but smile, shaking his head with some resignation that was all fake and bending down to kiss his wife a little better than she just did. She smiled through it, and he thought with relief that maybe things were finally getting better for her as well. If all it took was spreading all her clothes on the floor of a cramped room in a stupid Orlaisian palace, he could as well endure it. And he could also ignore the verse of disgust that Sera was making, right now.

“Ready, Inquisitor?” He asked her, his turn for some mischief, when he ended the kiss.

“As ever, Commander. Let’s go steal some money from the rich.”

Aisling kissed Sera’s cheek, and was met with less grumbling than usual, before she took Cullen’s arm and they went out of the room, dressed formally, and put the plan in motion.

Yes, things were looking up.

[acrispyapple]

Le Mysterious Comte: Three Hints ☆

Old Comrades ♡

[cirilla-fiona-riannon]

Ikevamp Act 2.5

Chapter 16 Dramatic Route

That night, in a mansion built deep in the forest, all the vampires are gathered.

When the three appear with Comte, the residents of the mansion raise their eyebrows.

Shakespeare: "Lord Vlad. And even Faust and Charles."

Vlad: "It's been a long time, Will."

Napoleon: "Vlad. I never thought I'd meet the culprits responsible for attacking us this way."

Isaac: "You're the pureblood that brought Hooke back to life..."

Jean: "Even if you have a good reason, don't think I'll easily forgive you for manipulating Gilles and kidnapping Mitsuki."

Vlad: "I'm not going to defend myself for what I put you guys through. If it makes you feel better, you can put your sword through this chest."

Vlad: "I'm not going to die, though."

Napoleon: ".............."

Vlad's words exude no mockery but rather all the resolve he carries with him.

Napoleon sensed this as he stared at the man in front of him.

Comte: "I'm sorry. I know you guys have your own opinions. But right now, I need you to listen to me."

Mozart: "I guess they're not here to fight. Tell us what happened."

Charles: "We were at the Expo with Mitsuki. And then..."

The bombing occurred at the venue, and Mitsuki tried to save a foreign kid and got separated from them during the explosion.

The residents of the mansion were then informed that they hadn't been able to find her anywhere since then.

Theo: "On top of that, there's a kidnapping. It's getting a little creepy."

Vincent: "Does this mean Mitsuki is involved in this kidnapping? We have to go help her as soon as possible."

Vlad: "We'll definitely save Mitsuki. Along with the kid she saved and his clan, too."

Arthur and Dazai's eyes widened in surprise.

Dazai: "Heh. It looks like you're very fond of Toshiko-san."

Arthur: "I didn't expect a pureblood like you to care about the minority when it comes to saving the world."

Arthur: "You want to save the kid and his clan, even if it means going alone. Why is that?"

Everyone turned their gazes at him...

Vlad: "I guess it's because that kid is a descendant of a Dhampir."

Vincent: "Dhampir?"

Vlad uttered an unfamiliar word, and everyone tilted their heads.

Comte: "A Dhampir is a hybrid between a pureblood vampire and a human."

Pureblooded vampires differ from one family to another in the way they relate to humans.

Some clans consider humans only as their prey and do not interact with them at all. Others hide their true identities and blend in with human society, but some reveal their true identities to humans and seek coexistence with them.

Comte: "Because of the difference in species, it's difficult for humans and purebloods to have children, which is why it's rare."

Leonardo: "But that bambino carried a faint hint of a vampire in him."

Leonardo: "Dhampirs born by near-miraculous odds grow up and procreate with humans."

Leonardo: "I guess the result of that cycle is that bambino."

Vlad: "Nowadays, though, their blood has faded, and they're almost the same as humans."

Faust: "Their ancestral stories were passed down only as folklore, and their true nature as vampires disappeared."

Vlad: "Still, we can say Dhampirs are the result of the coexistence of vampires and humans."

Comte: "Coexistence..."

Arthur: "You can't abandon them because they have the same blood running in their veins―is that what you're saying?"

Vlad: "Maybe..."

Vlad: "This is all my personal decision, including wanting to help Mitsuki. In the end, this is just about my ego."

With a smile, Vlad casts his eyes down in self-mockery for the first time.

Isaac: "So you're telling me that a clan with vampire blood was on display at the Expo?"

Faust: "Yes, to make the lore even more interesting."

Theo: "They spotted a family with unusual lore and brought them to the Expo to make a spectacle of them."

Theo: "It's a world-class event, this kind of thing showmen like to do to get attention."

Vincent: "I wouldn't want that to happen to my family either."

Sebastian: "Furthermore, they displayed them in an exhibit to make them a target for kidnapping."

Vlad: "Not only that but if word spread that they have vampire blood in their veins and the vampire's existence was made known..."

Vlad: "The worst could happen.”

Isaac: "What's the worst that could happen?"

Vlad: "Vampire hunting."

Everyone shut their mouths at the mention of the disturbing words.

Isaac: "B-But I don't think they will believe that vampires exist that easily."

Isaac: "Except maybe if they bite them in front of a bunch of people and sip their blood."

Faust: "But once they see them as heretics, there is a possibility that they will be persecuted."

Jean: "As a heretic, huh? If that happens, their clan will have a miserable end."

Mozart: "I'm sure those of us who are also vampires are no strangers to this."

Vlad: "Fear can spread through the world in the blink of an eye."

Vlad: "I just want to stop it before it happens."

People fear those who are different from themselves. And once fear is ignited, they will be thoroughly eliminated with weapons.

Vlad has seen this side of humanity many times.

Vlad: "Even among humans, the slightest difference is enough to cause hatred and strife."

Vlad: "No one should ever have to experience that kind of sorrow again."

Vlad: "I don't want humans to make such mistakes or commit such sins. That's all there is to it."

Charles: "Vovoide."

Vlad gripped his shirt tightly, looking like he was in pain.

Shakespeare: "My lord, your love for mankind is so sad."

Although he parted ways with Comte due to his ambition to control human thought, what he revealed was his purest wish.

Arthur: "Frankly, I think your love of humanity is twisted."

Vlad: "Conan Doyle."

Arthur: "It's a bit arrogant of you to keep people under control because you don't want them to make mistakes."

Arthur: "But regardless of all this talk, it seems our intentions are mutual."

Theo: "All we have to do is rescue hondje."

Theo: "And together, we will rescue the kid and his clan. Regardless if they are human or Dhampir."

Arthur: "Well, there you have it. If all of us put our heads together, I think we can make it work."

Charles: "Yeah, you're right. I mean, we all have these great people here."

Dazai: "The king over there wanted to see if we are good enough to lead the people, huh?"

Dazai: "This is a chance for us to show what we're really made of."

Shakespeare: "Dazai, you work too."

Vlad: "You guys..."

Napoleon, who had been watching the discussion, looked at Vlad and took a step forward.

Napoleon: "Vlad."

Napoleon: "I'm not going to go too deep into the past to see how much you have despaired."

Napoleon: "I'm not even going to try to tell you if your plans are right or wrong here."

Napoleon: "We are former humans. To you, it may look stupid for humans to fight endlessly, but with both stupidity and sorrow etched in our hearts, we have risked our lives for the sake of peace and for those we should protect."

Napoleon: "But isn't that the same for you?"

Vlad: "That's very Emperor Napoleon Bonaparte to say."

Napoleon: "I'm not an emperor anymore, though."

Napoleon: "Now, as a man, I have no reason to hesitate if there is something I can protect with my own hands."

Leonardo: "So, that's it. You guys have no objection to that, right?"

Faust: "Yes. For once, let's fight together."

Faust: "In the first place, you will do whatever it takes to save Mitsuki. Isn't that right, Lord Vlad?"

He asked for his confirmation, and Vlad nodded as if it were a matter of course.

Dazai: "It's a strange fate, isn't it? Toshiko-san gave herself up to protect the child of a human and a vampire."

Isaac: "The odds may be astronomical. But for Mitsuki, I'm sure she just acted the way she always does."

Vincent: "Yeah, and I'm sure she's going to say something like this."

Vincent: "You don't need a reason to help someone."

Theo: "Yeah, I can picture hondje smiling like that."

Everyone pictured Mitsuki's smiling face in their minds.

Charles: "I totally get you. I mean, Mitsuki came to our castle herself."

Faust: "I know she's a simpleton, but that's why she's able to go head-to-head with His Excellency Vlad and us."

Mozart: "From what I've heard, it sounds like Mitsuki's meddling was no different for you guys."

Sebastian: "She is also more adaptable than others."

Each time Mitsuki was mentioned, the expression on everyone's face softened.

All of them had only one thing on their minds: unwavering determination.

Late at night, Comte and Vlad were standing shoulder to shoulder on the balcony.

Comte: "I never thought there was a Dhampir bloodline among humans."

Vlad: "Yeah. It's as miraculous as finding a newly formed star out of this starry sky."

Comte: "A star, huh? It's like hope. But..."

Comte: "That's what we've been hoping for all along, for vampires and humans to coexist. Vlad."

Vlad: "Yeah. That's the only thing that hasn't changed since we were kids."

The two of them remembered the lonely but beautiful scenes of their childhood.

~~~~~~~~~Flashback~~~~~~~~~

Comte: "Hey Vlad, are humans and vampires really that different?"

Comte: "I love humans so much, so why can't I just stay with them?"

Vlad: "Don't cry. I'm sure one day humans and vampires will be able to live together forever."

Vlad: "In this beautiful world, humans, vampires, and other living creatures live hand in hand."

Vlad: "I wish for a future like that to last forever. Let's keep wishing for it together."

~~~~~~~Flashback Ends~~~~~~~

On this night, their hearts came together for the first time in hundreds of years, just like when they had shared the same wish and exchanged tears and smiles.

Vlad: "I thought helping only those you can reach won't change this cruel world."

Vlad: "But Mitsuki tried to help that boy."

Vlad: "She put her heart into those who were being showcased."

Comte: ".............."

Vlad: "What Mitsuki says is always beautiful. Still, seeing her never give up makes me want to be close to her."

His crimson eyes reflected the stars as he looked up at the night sky.

Comte also looked up at the starry sky and smiled.

Comte: "It's strange. I never thought I'd see the day we'd join hands again in this way."

Comte: "Mitsuki really connected us."

Mitsuki tried her best to listen and understand both sides between Comte and Vlad as they kept confronting each other.

Comte: "Hey, Vlad. Is Mitsuki your own hope?"

Vlad: "Yeah."

Vlad: "She's the hope that kept me alive."

Comte: "I see. But why her?"

Vlad: "Ahaha. I think I'll keep that a secret."

Vlad: "But this time, I'm going to find her myself."

My consciousness gradually rises from sleep as the cold hard floor touches my cheek.

Mitsuki: "Mm...Huh? Where am I...?"

Boy: "Sis, are you awake?"

Previous Part╏Next Part

[acediathemelancholy]

Teacher and Saint Germain’s Works

So Teacher is calling himself Comte de Saint Germain. Names certainly have power in Vanitas no Carte, so looking into Teacher’s historical namesake could tell us something about him and just maybe give some hints as to what he’s up to. 

@starberry-cupcake has a good post introducing the historical Comte and some connections with vnc’s timeline in this post here. 

But there is also some interesting information to glean from what the Comte wrote during his lifetime. There are two books attributed to the Comte: The Most Holy Trinosophia and an untitled work known as The Triangular Book of Saint Germain. 

The Triangular Book is a book of rituals inside of a triangle shaped grimoire. The first two rituals involved finding valuable objects to obtain great wealth. The first two rituals required a solar eclipse. The third ritual was for extending life, which required a special sort of longevity amulet.

The Most Holy Trinosophia (Three Wisdoms) is a 96 page alchemy / masonic text that was encoded into symbols from multiple ancient languages. It’s divided into twelve parts based on the twelve zodiac signs. The book details a prophecy where the Leg of the Grand Man and the Zodiac’s Waterman (Aquarius) will meet at an equinox at the end of a 400,000 year old cycle, which will create a new heaven and earth. 

There are two books attributed to the Comte...and there are two Books of Vanitas. The Comte’s works include a grimoire with rituals and an ominous prophecy. The Books of Vanitas are grimoires that contain rituals and formulas and are connected to a prophecy about the end of the vampire world.

Perhaps Teacher is more closely connected to the Books of Vanitas than we think. Or maybe the two books are the two valuable objects that Teacher seeks for some mystical purpose like the first two rituals in The Triangular Book. 

The third ritual for extending life may be additional evidence that Teacher is also Paracelsus. In vnc, Paracelsus created vampires, immortal beings, after altering the world formula. Teacher associates himself with the name Saint Germain, who wrote about rituals for extending life and was later associated with achieving immortality. 

As for something that could be a “longevity amulet” that extends life, my guesses are Vanitas’ hourglass earring or maybe...

whatever this strange cracked brooch is that Teacher always seems to wear.

As for the Trinosophia, perhaps Teacher is trying to create a new order, “a new heaven and hell”, by resurrecting Luna. If he really is Paracelsus, changing the order of the world to suit his fancy is already in his wheelhouse. I’ll definitely keep an eye out for if there are any plot points involving an equinox (where the day and night are of equal length). If Teacher is following a prophecy inspired by the Trinosophia, who are the Grand Man and the Waterman? My current guess is that they are Noé and Vanitas since Teacher was the one who insisted that Noé cross paths with Vanitas...

[daisiesandshakes]

My thoughts about MC in the mansion

(wolfs dent)

In my opinion vampires act a whole lot more like predators when it comes to things they love (and for sure everyone in the mansion loves MC).

Maybe I can get away with saying they all consider MC as their "property", snapping at everybody who's trying to get too close to her. Yes, all (or almost all) residents are just "normal" people, but they aren't able to supress their vampire/ predator instincts when it relates to somebody they love and want to protect.

I think MC would be the most protected treasure in Paris, and no foolish mortal could get away with trying to hurt or kidnapp her. And if it is not a foolish mortal, they still have Comte and Leonardo...

(Never understood why cybird didn't come up with the ability of vampires to trace the scent of someone, that would have made the kidnapping thing a lot more interesting, not to mention their perfect view in the dark, their inhumanly strength and speed... oh MC tries to run away? She's a fast runner? Hold my beer and watch this...)

Sometimes pictures stuck in my mind how the residents would watch over her (trying their best not to be noticed):

Napoleon, always on guard when MC has to pass crowdy places, shielding her with his body and if necessary with his sword. Watching closely EVERYBODY who gets near to her (ready to break some fingers if they dare to touch)

Jean, melts with the dark as MC comes home late, watching her from the shadows, a hand on the grip of his blade. A low growl comes up his throat everytime someone walks near to MC. He makes sure Mademoiselle has a safe trip back to the mansion.

Vincent: while MC is busy in the garden he decides to paint near to her. It makes him feel secure to have her in his sight. Painting with a bright smile, he watches over her at the same time. (Someone tries to snatch her? I almost feel sad for them...)

Theodorus: this adorable puppy can't go ANYWHERE without his knowing (Those words would never leave his lips though). He involved even his connections to the police to watch her steps. If MC is in town and his leisure time allows it, he's around, too (not too close, nobody should think he's there because of knabbeltje...).

Dazai: if you think MC could stroll around in the woods unnoticed, you're deadly wrong. She heard a noise, but can't see anyone around. Dazai observes her from a tree branch above with piercing eyes.

Isaac: shy boy but... his kids report him every day her actions in town. He feels secure when she is. When MC can't sleep at night he involves her into his stargazing, trying to comfort her in his own way. When a stranger comes too close, his eyes are glowing unearthly.

Mozart: there will be no ball MC takes part without him playing the piano. Even when he's playing, he observes her from the corner of his eyes. No man would dare to lay a single finger on this lady after a deadly glare from Mozart.

Arthur: for sure he knows every tiny move she makes. It's not only his brilliant mind that can tell right away where she is and what she's doing... he knows how filthy and cruel the world can be and he sees it as his duty to take care of MC's safety in his leisure time. Oh, she must be now at the book store... He can smell a hint of her lavender soap that way...

Shakespeare: Oh damn. She can't even breathe without his knowing. He knows her daily tasks and actions, making sure that he's around as soon as her feet touch the ground of the town. Unseen he observes and studies every single movement, so he is able to tell everytime what she is doing right now and who's with her. When he's busy with his plays, William has a few paid connections, reporting everything about her. Some day she returned late to the mansion, telling Vincent she got the feeling a few filthy men followed her for a few minutes. The next day Vincent talks with Shakespeare about that, and about the occurance that three injured men with broken bones were found in the streets. Oh, what a coincidence...

The purebloods: if the lesser vampires aren't enough... Comte and Leonardo can trace her smell better than any bloodhound! They are even able to feel her presence when MC is near enough. Another pureblood or lesser vampire gets to close to MC? Wants to marry her because it's usual for a girl at her age to be married in this time period? Be ready for some intimidating, threatening snarling and baring of fangs ...

[juliandev0rak]

You’re The Reason I’m Leaving

Chapter Three of I’m Your Villain

Words: 3063

Warnings: mentions of death, murder, all the usual things for a story about an assassin

The weather has turned from sun to pouring rain in the span of an hour, and Cadmus paces his room in a dour mood. 

There are a few hours till nightfall when he needs to leave for Greythal, and he’s trying to strategize and pack his saddle bag but the incessant sound of the rain is too distracting. It’s giving him a headache and he could really use a nap, or a drink, but he has no time for either. 

His pacing stops abruptly as he feels a presence at his back and he turns to see his door swing open soundlessly. It’s nearly impossible to sneak up on him after years of honing his instincts, and even his brother who has magical abilities that allow him to fade into invisibility can’t pass unnoticed.

“Come to see me off, then?” Cadmus smirks, taking in the sight of his younger brother leaning against the doorframe. Alastor looks expressionless as always, his demeanor cold as the icy color of his skin. The Durand family are all blonde, but Alastor’s hair is white. 

Alastor takes a step into the room and Cadmus resists the urge to take a step back to distance himself from his brother. Alastor smiles, a look that reminds Cadmus of his father in its unnaturalness. “I wouldn’t be so happy if I were you, Cadmus. This isn’t an ordinary mission.” 

Cadmus scoffs,“You’re just upset that father sent me instead of you.”

“No. I have missions of my own, far more important ones.” Alastor walks over to the window, peering outside with disdain.

“I doubt that, but since you’ve clearly come here to gloat about it- do tell me how important you are.” Cadmus rolls his eyes and turns back to the bag he’d been packing. If he has to stand here and listen to Alastor, he can at least do something more useful with his time.

“You have no clue, do you?” Alastor’s tone has gone even colder, his anger turning on like a light. Cadmus has the same temper, but while he’s fire- Alastor is all ice

“No clue about what?”

“You’re easily replaceable, if you fail someone will rise up to take your place.” Alastor sounds like he’s reciting the words from memory. “Father once told me that when you die there won't even be a funeral, you won’t get a burial. He said ‘Why would we make a monument to Cadmus’ failure?’ When you die it will be as if you never existed.” 

Cadmus laughs, this is nothing he hasn’t heard before. “Well, I suppose it’s a good thing I’d like to be cremated then! Makes things easier for all of us.” He crosses the room to where his brother stands staring at the rain. “Now, did you have a point to make or did you just come here to be an asshole? I’m a bit busy if you haven’t noticed.”

Alastor scoffs and turns to face his brother, his expression returned to blank stone. “Good luck then, brother.” The way he says the word is like a curse.

Instead of using the door, Alastor turns towards the stone wall and walks through it as if it wasn’t there. Another of his fancy magic tricks. Their mother had always favored Alastor, she’d taught him all of the magic she knows and as he’d risen in power he’d also risen as a threat. He’s only a few years younger than Cadmus, but Cadmus knows he wants the throne.

Cadmus doesn’t care much for ruling. He thinks being the Comte would be boring, too much administration, not enough action. But it’s his right as the eldest and he’ll be damned if he lets his creepy shit of a little brother take it from him. Alastor is clearly willing to kill for the position, and Cadmus doesn’t doubt he’ll strike when the opportunity arises. So he keeps his guard up, not trusting even the stones around him. 

Cadmus has got one more goodbye, and he’s saved the most important for last. His sister’s room is down the hall from his, around a winding corner where guards are always posted. Despite his cruelty, Daphne is the Comte’s favorite child by far. She’s kept in her gilded cage, only to be released some day when the perfect suitor arrives.

Before Cadmus can even raise his hand to knock on the door it swings open, revealing the excited face of his younger sister. She opens the door for him to enter and he takes in the sight of her room, drawn in by the color and vibrancy. Every wall is covered in paintings she’s done, and every window sill is full of plants. It’s her one sanctuary in this desolate place and though the room feels just as cold as the rest of the castle, it’s full of Daphne’s warmth.

“What did father say?” Daphne asks, pulling Cadmus further in so she can shut the door behind him.

Cadmus sighs, not wanting to disappoint her. “I’m afraid I have bad news. He wouldn’t budge.” 

“Noooo.” Daphne puts her head in her hands dramatically and Cadmus would laugh if he didn’t hear real despair in her voice. “When do you have to leave again?” 

“Tonight. But perhaps once Greythal has been secured father will be less worried about your safety. I’m sorry Daph.” 

Daphne heaves a heavy sigh that seems to reveal the weight of the world resting on her shoulders. “I’ll survive, I always do. I have my books at least.” 

“Don’t be too hard on Clarisse while I’m gone,” Cadmus says, thinking of the old woman who had been his governess and is now Daphne’s. She’d been strict, but kinder than his own mother had ever been. Or at least more present, which has to count for something,

“You should tell Clarisse not to be too hard on me! She’s practically made my fingers bleed with all the needlepoint she’s been forcing on me.” Daphne scowls, rubbing her fingertips together as if remembering the pain of a needle prick. “I want to learn to fight like you, or do magic! Anything would be more useful than sitting indoors all day. Mother says I’m too dull for magic but she’s never even tried to teach me!” 

“She said I was too dull for magic too.” Cadmus laughs, “And trust me, you don’t want to learn to fight.” 

“I think I’d look quite imposing with a sword.” Daphne strikes a pose, lifting her hand up as if she’s holding a weapon. Cadmus laughs at the sight of her, over a foot shorter than him and wearing a very impractical gown. She turns towards him angrily. “Nobody lets me do anything!” 

“We’re simply trying to protect you, Daph. It’s safer inside the walls.” Cadmus reaches a hand out towards her shoulder but she shoves it away. 

“I’d rather die than spend another day trapped in this drafty old castle.” Daphne crosses her arms and looks at him defiantly. It’s the same facial expression Cadmus wears when he’s pouting and while he thinks she’s being a bit dramatic, he understands the sentiment.

Cadmus sighs, unsure how to console her. “One day when you’re the Comtess or when you’ve married some handsome duke you’ll be able to see the world, but for now it’s safest for you here. You just have to be patient.” 

“Now you sound like father. I thought you were on my side.” Daphne frowns and he notices a sudden mist of tears cloud her blue eyes.

It’s gone from a casual conversation to actual emotions, and though this is his little sister, the person he’s closest too in the world, Cadmus still has no idea how to handle tears. She watches him for a moment as a tear runs down her cheek and then turns away, hiding her face from him. He doesn’t know what to do but he doesn’t want her to hide things like he does, he doesn’t think he even has the ability to cry at this point.

“Daph,” Cadmus hesitates, then pulls her into a hug. She buries her head in his shoulder and though she’s silent, he can feel her shoulders shaking and the sleeve of his coat getting wet. 

“Come back, please,” Daphne pleads, her voice muffled against his coat.“You have to come back. Don’t leave me here.” 

Cadmus sighs, understanding her outburst more clearly now. It isn’t just being cooped up inside that’s bothering her, it’s him leaving. She doesn’t know exactly what he does when he’s gone on missions, but she knows it’s dangerous. He’s come back injured before, been left bed-ridden or worse for days, but she doesn’t know how close he’s been to dying.

“Don’t I always come back?” Cadmus says, trying to be comforting. Daphne pushes back from his shoulder to look at him, her eyes red from crying. 

“But what if you don’t,” She sniffles.

“I will, Daphne, I promise.” Cadmus doesn’t like to make promises he doesn’t know he can keep, but he’s always come back before. 

“I just know Alastor will be a terror while you’re gone.” She frowns, angrily wiping away tears. 

“He’s always a terror. Just threaten him with one of your embroidery needles, that’ll scare him off,” Cadmus jokes. Daphne gives him a hint of a smile and pulls back from the hug, reaching into her pocket to pull out a needle. 

“En garde!” She says, brandishing the needle forward towards Cadmus. He lets her tap his arm with the needle and then dramatically puts his hand to his heart. “Oh no! You got me!” He fake swoons, falling to the floor in a heap as Daphne bursts into laughter. After a moment she holds out her hand to help him up and Cadmus pulls her down instead, causing her to burst into giggles again. When they both calm down Daphne sits up, leaning against the wall as she looks at Cadmus.

“If you don’t come back I’ll track you down and kill you myself.” She looks at him very gravely, and though the words are humorous, he doesn’t doubt she’d try.

“You sound more like a Durand every day,” Cadmus laughs.

“And bring me back a present,” She says imperiously, with the tone of someone who has never been denied anything in her life. Which is pretty much the truth.

“Yep, definitely a Durand.” Cadmus reaches out to ruffle her hair and she pulls away with an annoyed noise. “I’ll bring you back a flower.” 

It’s tradition that he always brings her something new for her botanical journal. He picks the prettiest flower he can find on his journey, whichever flower he thinks she’d like the best. Daphne catalogues the pressed flowers in her journal. and each entry is complete with a drawing and a label. Sometimes he brings her duplicates on accident, but she’s always just as pleased. 

He gives her one last hug goodbye and then he’s off to find Agatha who is probably busy hunting mice. By the time his familiar’s been located the sun has begun to set and it’s time to leave. As he’s saddling his horse he looks up at the castle one last time. Silhouetted in the late afternoon light is his mother, standing in the window of the tallest tower.

Her private library and workshop are up there, it’s where he used to take magic lessons before she decided he was useless at it. He’s not allowed up there anymore, not that he minds. The tower also serves as a torture chamber for enemies unlucky enough to be brought in alive. Or for Durand sons who misbehave.

Cadmus turns away from the tower and his mother’s keen eyes and gets on his horse. There’s no use thinking about the past when he’s got the present to focus on.

—————————–

It’s a two day ride to Greythal through some of the ugliest landscape Cadmus has ever seen.

He likes the ocean views of Avronne, the way the cliff sides are both beautiful and deadly, covered in plants and trees which cling to life along their edges. The road to Greythal is all pasture and cows and manure. The city itself is on the coast, but the road there is anything but a trip to the seaside.

It rains the entire night, and when Cadmus stops to rest the next morning he’s thoroughly drenched and grateful for the weak sunlight coming through the clouds. He sleeps fitfully beneath a tree, his instincts on edge in case he’s seen from the road. He wishes he had someone here to take watch shifts, but working alone is safer. He’ll take sleep deprivation over a knife in the back from a traitorous partner.

Cadmus isn’t entirely alone at least. His horse Alecto is very dependable, and although Cadmus wouldn’t admit it- she’s a very good listener as well. He talks to her, and Agatha, as he rides. He tells them about the landscape, about his family, about how he sometimes wishes he could simply relax. Animals are good confidants, they can’t tell his secrets to anyone nor can they try to give him advice or lecture him like another person would. 

The trip passes quickly, the landscape blurring together from rain and boredom. When he reaches the outskirts of Greythal on the morning of the party he stops to disguise himself and his horse, enchanting his hair brunette and his white horse spotted brown. He doesn’t intend to be seen by anyone, but it's a necessary precaution. He rides as close as he can get to the castle then continues on foot.

Cadmus surveys the area, looking for a path through the woods so he can avoid the road when he makes his escape later. He finds a well worn path in the dirt and commits the spot to memory. When he returns to his horse he finds Agatha coiling around Alecto’s neck. The horse doesn’t seem to mind the fact that a very deadly snake is in close proximity, Agatha poses no threat unless Cadmus instructs her to bite. 

She’s his best tool of the trade, stealthier than he is despite her large size, and deadlier too. One bite from Agatha, or one drop of her venom which Cadmus keeps in a vial, can kill a person in under 15 minutes. He’s built up a tolerance to various poisons over the course of his training, hardly anything can kill him but a blade alone, yet Agatha’s poison would be too strong even for him.

Normally he doesn’t bring her along on his assignments. She’s nearly twelve feet long and isn’t exactly the easiest to travel with, but he’d had a gut feeling to bring her this time- and he always trusts his instincts. 

Right now his instincts are telling him to run a perimeter around the castle to see what he’s dealing with. So he does just that, creeping through the underbrush of the woods until he reaches the low stone wall surrounding the castle on the hill. It’s an imposing building, larger than his family's castle. Greythal is a wealthy kingdom while Avronne is a smaller, if more powerful, city state. 

Avronne is small but mighty, the seat of a power that reaches far beyond the city walls- that’s what the Comte says at least.

Agatha scouts ahead of him, her movements silent despite the loose brush she slithers through. If something is amiss she’ll alert him. Cadmus keeps his eyes turned towards the castle, watching for the movement of guards. He rounds east towards the back of the castle where he’ll find the princess’ window. Sure enough, a blackthorn tree sits beneath an illuminated window as Xiphos had said it would. 

Cadmus takes in the vines which cling to the stone walls, likely strong enough to help him climb up. He tries to calculate how quickly he thinks he can climb it, his guess is around a minute, maybe less if he can get good footholds.

He considers hopping over the stone wall to enter the grounds for a better look when Agatha hisses at him in alarm. He instantly looks up, seeing a small figure he hadn't noticed waving at him. The figure stands from the bench they’d been sitting on beneath the tree and approaches his spot behind the wall, he’s been spotted. 

“Fuck. Agatha, hide.” He uses the blade of his sword to inspect his reflection, satisfied that he doesn’t look like himself. Agatha slithers into the underbrush, close enough to defend Cadmus if need be. He considers running, but that would be even more suspicious, and as the figure approaches it’s clear that this is a child. He draws his dagger all the same, just in case.

“Who are you?” Calls the child, a young girl around his sister’s age. He takes in her clothing- expensive, perfectly clean, she must be a noble then. Cadmus doesn’t respond, waiting for the girl to explain herself instead. “Are you here for my birthday party?”

It’s then that he realizes the crown on her head, this is the princess. 

He really should run. Instead he stays, stuck to the spot as he takes in the information that he’s been sent here to kill a child. That’s new for him. He’d known she was young- but this girl can’t be older than sixteen. 

“My mother said there are lots of guests coming, are you a guest?” The princess asks. She’s blonde, and Cadmus has to blink hard to rid himself of the image of Daphne. She’s so trusting, so naive, so stupid to approach a stranger with no guards around to protect her.

Cadmus should kill her now while she’s all alone and he has the chance. He can kill her painlessly, so quickly that she’ll barely even feel it. 

Instead he asks, “What’s your name?” 

“You don’t know who I am?” She laughs, taking a step closer to the stone wall that separates them. Cadmus grips his weapon more tightly, but he still can’t make his hand move. “My name is Melia. What’s yours?”

He opens his mouth as if to answer but his body finally catches up to his brain. Cadmus runs. He doesn’t stop until he’s deep in the woods and as far from the girl as he can get. 

He certainly hadn’t planned for this.

[littlewitty]

So, he said FEW.

A few of something is more than one, meaning that it’s not just Will that left the mansion after the transformation. Because of the word ‘few’ we can most likely assume that it is three or more because if it was just Will he would have said the one resident, if it was two, he most likely would have used couple but he said ‘few’ which normally means three or more (in UK English, may be different for other regions and countries).

Now I want to know: how many people has Comte turned and where are they all now?

We already know about Will and the residents but what about the others. There was a scene ,either a story event or a route, where he said something about how he has asked female influencers before but none have said yes (plz tell me he at first though Jean was a woman, although he was probs alive in the 15th century). So by default, this does narrow down the list because of this meaning that people like , for example, Florence Nightingale, Ada Lovelace, Rosa Parks ect. (Of course there are many more but these people came to my head first and i didn’t want to bore anyone by going down a list) May have been offered but refused.

Now, I haven’t read the Japanese routes as I can’t speak Japanese (😂😂😭😭) so I don’t know the full story of Charles, Faust and Vlad. But from what I do know, I can’t find any source that says what Johann Georg Faust discovered or what he did to influence history. But he did have a legend or a book based off him about someone who sold their soul away to the devil (or something like that) and that character description describes the Faust we have heard of from the Japanese version. Charles Henri Sanson was the excutioner of the last King of France. So he didn’t do anything revolutionary or influenced society in anyway like Faust. So if Vlad did bring these men back then they were brought back for their famous names, not their influence.

I’m saying if Vlad brought them back, because I’m not too sure at this moment in time whether Vlad or Comte brought them back. I can already rule out Leonardo because he thinks turning a human is sinful and wouldn’t do it. But it has been heavily hinted that Comte used to be more ‘freaky’ and a ‘wild child’, and Comte himself even once stated how the look in Will’s eyes sometimes reflects the look he used to have in his eyes, showing that Comte most likely used to be a bad-ish person or has a dark past. What if, in the past, both Vlad and Comte brought back these men, together or Comte brought them back and just abandoned them and they went to Vlad an never knew Comte turned them, or if they left the mansion over something that happened and went to Vlad and refuse to acknowledge Comte’s existance.

That being said, I think that Vlad did turn Charles and Faust because in a scene where they are in a church with Will, someone translated it in tumblr ( @ikevampeventarchive ,the post is called: mysteries of Le Comte , I believe), Charles and Faust have a discussion about who turned Will and what kind of person he is. But thinking about what Vlad thinks of how he sees people as a means to an end or something like that, he turned them because they are know for being bad, or because they have a bad history that people will remember them for: Faust, the legend of the man who sold his soul to the devil. Charles, excutioner of Louis XVI.

So this ,initially, leaves a massive hole as to who Comte brought back. We already know from the English routes he hasn’t turned Antonio Saleri, Adam Worth and Arthur Wellesley and Napoleon Bonaparte, meantime there is a possibility that Vlad turned all of these men and put them to use to set up trouble. Napoleon just turned up out of the blue one day a Demi-Vampire so Vlad may have had something to do with that as he didn’t go down in history as someone good, he was and is still known as the ‘nightmare of Europe’. Therefore it would kind of fit the criteria of his mansions residents. Because we don’t know how a vampires transformation happens, it may be possible to stunt the transformation half way.

But still, I have way too much time on my hands to think up all of this!!

[mnthpprt]

Chapter 23: Drawings And Diatribes

Today is the opening of Theo’s exhibition. I asked Sebastian for the evening off so I could go see it. Vincent’s paintings will be there, and I am curious to see if his style has changed much since he became a vampire. His art was always my favorite.

The Van Gogh brothers left earlier to set it up, so I take a carriage by myself to the city center. The place is already buzzing when I arrive. Vincent spots me when I walk in and greets me with a bright smile.

“Anaïs! I’m glad you made it, I want to show you something,” he says, taking my hand. I let him guide me through the crowd to the corner of the gallery, and we come to a stop in front of a small painting. It is a portrait of a woman in a yellow dress, with long dark hair flowing lose over her shoulders as she waters a potted white orchid.

“That’s me,” I gasp. I recognize my own face in the thick brushstrokes. The dress le Comte gave me and my green eyes are vivid with color against the dark background. It is truly beautiful. I throw my arms around Vincent and pull him into a hug, which he hesitantly returns. “I love it! I can’t believe my all time favorite artist painted me without me even knowing,” I laugh. “This is a dream come true.”

“Am I really your favorite?” Vincent asks shyly once I let go, scratching the back of his head.

“Of course. That use of contrasting colors! That impasto! Ah, I love everything about your art,” I reply with a smile.

Shakespeare approaches us and takes my hand to his lips in his usual old fashioned greeting. I didn’t know he would be here, but I’m not too surprised. I remember le Comte saying he and Vincent were friends.

“Guillaume, what a surprise. Here to support Vincent?”

“That, and to speak to thee, my lovely rose.” I playfully roll my eyes. He’s only calling me that to annoy me. “Now that thou hast come to the exhibition opening, I can’t help but feel a little jealous. I am premiering a new play on Friday, and it would be an honour if thou came to see it.”

“I can’t say no if you ask me like that,” I shrug, smiling. I spot Theo in the background, discussing business as usual, and quickly excuse myself. I want to congratulate him for putting this together. It seems to be quite successful, so far. “I’ll be there, I promise.”

I let go of Shakespeare’s hand and walk away. The art collector that Theo was talking to leaves him to go look at the other paintings, and I poke his shoulder with a finger.

“This is amazing, Theo,” I say when he turns around, before standing on my toes to greet him with a peck on each cheek. “You’re a great curator. Look how many people showed up!” He has good taste, clearly, and everyone can see that. I am not as knowledgeable in what constitutes ‘good art’ as I am in how to prevent it falling apart, but I have spent enough time in museums to know what a good exhibition looks like. This one is excellent.

“Thanks, hondje,” he replies. Judging by the lack of cutting remarks, he is in a good mood. The hint of a smile on his face makes dimples appear on his cheeks, which I find absolutely adorable. Too bad I rarely see it.

I’m more of a cat person, really,” I chuckle at his nickname. Ever since the ‘snack’ debacle, he uses it more often than he does my actual name, and Vincent kindly translated it for me. Theo scrunches up his face in disgust, making me laugh, and I leave him to do his own thing. With the amount of potential buyers that came tonight, he’s going to be busy.

For the next hour or so I simply observe the rest of the paintings. That is, until a bearded man approaches me. He looks somewhat familiar, although I can’t pinpoint where I’ve seen his face before.

“Excusez-moi, mademoiselle. Are you the lady in that painting over there?” He recognizes me from Vincent’s portrait.

“I am,” I nod. The stranger furrows his brow thoughtfully, staring at me, and I feel a slight blush creeping over my cheeks.

“The artist did a wonderful job of capturing your likeness. I wonder how you managed to pose so naturally,” he ponders out loud.

“Oh, I didn’t. I just went about my day like I usually would, but I had no idea he was painting me.” The man keeps staring art me in silence, so I feel the need to explain. “The artist is my friend. I have been staying in his home for the past couple weeks.”

“I love it,” he mutters through his bushy beard. “No posing, no artifice, just the natural, unadulterated gaze of a friend... I should write about that.”

The lightbulb in my head lights up after hearing his words, making my eyes widen in recognition. I know where I’ve seen him. His photograph was on the back of the book I read on the airplane when I came to Paris.

“You’re Émile Zola,” I simply state, and he laughs.

“The one and only. I take it you’ve read my work, then?”

Holy shit. My stay here keeps getting more interesting: in the past week I have made out with Leonardo da Vinci, been painted by Vincent van Gogh, and now I am talking to the Émile Zola, the father of literary naturalism. I could swoon, if I had not frozen in place.

“I absolutely adored L’Œuvre,” I blurt out, “I recently finished reading it.” I regret saying that immediately. Fuck, what if it hasn’t been published yet? I messed up.

“I am glad to hear that. It received a lot of critique when it was first published.”

I breath out in relief. That was a close call. I should probably stop freaking out about historical figures’ work if I want to avoid letting on about their future. This magnificent writer before me has no idea that in a few months he will risk his entire career to expose the Dreyfus Affair, which hasn’t even happened yet.

“Yeah, I don’t understand the hate for impressionism either,” I say, looking back at Vincent’s painting. Though most of his work is technically postimpressionist, the paintings in the exhibition fit in with the time’s most transgressive styles, but I can still see his essence peak through. I figured le Comte would want his art to blend in a little better to avoid attention. “I personally prefer it. You know, ‘beauty is in the eye of the beholder’, and all that. People just need to respect others’ eyes, even if they don’t see the same as theirs.”

Zola lets out a chuckle and strokes his beard.

“I like you, mademoiselle...”

“Hondje!” Before I can give him my name, Theo interrupts. “We’re going to the tavern, you coming?”

“Sure, wait for me!” I turn to Zola, smiling. “Anaïs. My name, I mean. Thanks for the chat,” I say, excusing myself with a nod. I look back over my shoulder to see the author waving at me with an amused smile.

I catch up to Theo outside, where Vincent and Shakespeare are already waiting. Arthur is there, too, even though he did not visit the exhibition.

“Fancy to see you here, dove,” he says when he sees me, wrapping his arm around my waist. “Alright, I know an excellent place just two blocks from here. Let’s hurry before they run out of tables.”

“I’m actually pretty tired,” says Vincent. “I think I’ll just head home.”

Theo gives him a brotherly pat on the back, and I hug him goodbye. After he leaves, Shakespeare, who has been silent until now, chimes in.

“Alas, I must retire for the night as well.” He takes my hand to kiss it once again, and I notice Arthur and Theo share a meaningful glance. “I shall see thee on Friday, Anaïs. Farewell.”

He walks away too, leaving the three of us alone. Once I’m sure Shakespeare is too far to hear us, I immediately turn to the two men standing next to me.

“Okay, what was that about?”

“Theo hates Will,” Arthur chuckles. “He’s jealous because he spends time with Vincent, aren’t you, little brother?” he teases the other, playfully nudging him with his elbow.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Theo replies with a scowl. Then he turns to me. “Do not believe a word he says, hondje. This fool wouldn’t know a dog if it bit him in the ass, let alone what someone else is thinking.”

I laugh at the two of them bickering, before I double down on my inquiry. Arthur never really explained what the deal is with Shakespeare, but it’s clear that something else is going on.

“No, but really. Why are you all so weird around him?”

“We can discuss it over a few drinks!” Arthur declares cheerfully. I know he is just trying to distract me, but his fun attitude is contagious.

“Hell yeah, drinks!” I exclaim. Theo remains silent, looking angry as always, so Arthur and I begin chanting the word until he gives in.

“Fine by me,” he finally agrees with a shrug. I close my hand and push it towards Arthur, trying to give him a fist bump, but of course, he has no idea what that is. He stares at me with a raised eyebrow, and I grab his hand, gently bend his fingers, and bump it against my own, showing him how it works.

“Is this something people do in your time?” he asks, intrigue visible on his face.

“Mh-hm,” I nod. “Sort of like a celebratory gesture. We convinced Theo to drink with us, so now...” I explain, holding up my fist again. He does the same, bringing it to touch mine. “Fist bump.”

“Huh, it’s quite curious,” Arthur muses. “Fun, even.”

“I think it looks silly,” Theo chimes in. I shrug, letting out a chuckle.

“Maybe, but I think you’re just jealous.”

He rolls his eyes and begins walking away from the gallery, with Arthur not far behind. I follow, hoping that it’s not very far. The sky has been unusually cloudy today, and it might start raining any second.

[aoi-aoi-chan]

Ikemen Vampire (Japan): The Mystery of Comte ~Three Keywords~

This is the campaign currently ongoing in the JP server for the upcoming release of Comte’s route.

Word 1: Door

Comte de Saint Germain, the man with many secrets. What does he look like in the eyes of the great men......?

One late afternoon, MC overheard the conversation between the two residents in the mansion......

Arthur: Does Sebastian also came to the 19th century through that door?

Sebastian: Yes. I met Comte when I was wandering about in Europe in my era, and he invited me to be the butler of the mansion. When I went through the door, it is 19th century Paris. The door is like something from the dream......!

Arthur: Ahaha...... It does sound like a door of the dream, (through the door) going to the side of the people dying, making them into vampires, and bringing them back. But Comte actually comes up with this crazy idea.

Sebastian: Isn’t that because of Comte’s sympathy towards all resident’s desires?

Arthur: Even though that’s what we hear, but creating a magical door like that only to make individual wishes come true...... I sometimes can’t help but think that he actually does it for other purposes.

Sebastian: I see what you are saying...... Now that you said that, it does feel mysterious. Both as the butler, and as a great men maniac, I have grown curious, but having a lot of secrets is also part of Comte’s charm......

Arthur: Sebastian is just as always. Well, Comte is a pure blood, maybe he has thoughts that are unthinkable to us who are originally human. His true thoughts are in the mist. Maybe someone who can become intimate with Comte will bring that out.

Word 2: Old Friend

One quiet night, there are several men talking in the church......

Charles: Yo, the pure blood who revived Shakespeare...... Eh......

Faust: You mean Comte Saint-Germain?

Charles: Yes yes. Will, what kind of person is Comte?

Shakespeare: Hm, let me think about it...... When he revived me, he required me to “become his family” as the price. And as he said, he treats me like a real family member...... He is a really compassionate person

Charles: Heh......

Faust: You sound very happy

Shakespeare: I didn’t mean like that

Charles: Comte is previously friends with Vlad, right? Wouldn’t it be nice if he just helps us

Faust: The compassionate Comte is incompatible with Vlad’s goal. They probably went on separate ways because of that

Charles: Hmm...... If the world Vlad is aiming towards comes true, everyone will definitely be happy. Will, don’t you know what Comte is considering?

Shakespeare: I wouldn’t know something like that. There’s a performance tomorrow, I am going to leave now

Charles: ...... Ah, he left. For Vlad and Comte, it will be great if everyone can just get along. Don’t you think so too, doctor?

Faust: I don’t really care what the pure blood grandpas are thinking, as long as I can have my guinea pigs

Charles: Ahh, why do you always talk about that

What is between the pure bloods remain unclear, and the night goes on......

Word 3: Eternity

...... At dusk, MC looks into the living room of the mansion......

Napoleon: Leonardo, you don’t really go into social circles like Comte, right?

Leonardo: Ah? Why are you suddenly asking this? Do you think I am that kind of person?

Napoleon: ...... I guess not. Because you two have known each other for a long time, so I thought maybe you two have gone to evening parties together

Leonardo: Well, not that I don’t understand why he likes places where people gather. He has already been in the social circle for dozens of years

Napoleon: Dozens of years...... Wouldn’t people around suspect something?

Leonardo: Usually, pure blood are very careful when it comes to the relationship with humans. Before the difference of age becomes too obvious, they disappear from sight. But that guy dares to not do that. And soon there are rumors that he doesn’t age or die. People around are attracted by the mysterious one...... He is now the star of the social circle. Comte is such a cunning person...... However, as one is more involved in the human society, one experience more encounters and goodbyes. Especially...... No matter how many times one experience it, the loneliness when goodbye is said still sticks around

Napoleon: I see......

Napoleon: That is the fate of the forever living pure blood. I wonder how he takes all of that......

When waiting for a good time to go into the room, a kind voice speaks to MC from behind.

Comte: What is going on, MC, standing at a place like this. Heh, it seems like they are talking about me. Are you also interested in me?

Comte looks at me, his eyes with both teasing and a hint of sweetness, and my cheeks turn hot uncontrollably.

Comte: ...... Haha, I will have hopes if you look like that? However, MC...... There is a huge gap between human and vampire. Do you still want to know me despite that......?

My answer to that question is......

[that-otome-potato]

Pairing: Mitsuhide x MC Rating: PG (for now, but likely to turn nsfw) TW: Implied character death?  Author note: No, the tags are right!  I was thinking about what I knew about history in the Cybird universes’ one day, and got wondering:  Where did Mitsuhide go?  I know we learn from his route, but this plot bunny started well before his route was released on the EN servers. A HC about purebloods also came around, but I won’t go into that because I wouldn’t want to give anything away.

Now that that is out of the way, enjoy!

Time.  Such a fickle thing.  It flies when you’re having fun, slows when you’re dreading something.  It can be given and taken away in the blink of an eye.

I was given a week.  One amazing week with someone I found spectacular. Someone that shone brighter than the sun in the sky.  

But like with most sources of light, it always casts a shadow.  That was one thing I felt whenever we spent time together, but I had hoped to have the time to figure out what it was.

“Go!  Go to the closet I showed you.  You’ll be safe there!”

 I rolled over in my new bed, the memory of the last time I saw him consuming me even as I attempted to adjust to being ripped from my own time and plopped down hard in 19th century Paris. 

Le Comte and Sebastian had explained the process of time travel and the mysterious door to me, but how much of it had been retained was another question. Not even them telling me that the other tenants in the mansion were vampires seemed to shock me out of my melancholy.

Was he okay? The last image of him I had seen was the man he was defending against having a large knife in his hand, aimed at Kiyo’s stomach. Different scenarios then started flashing through my mind, mostly of him bleeding out on the floor of the museum. 

Had he known what would happen when I went into the closet? He must have.  He may have been teasing about it, as he was with most things, while showing it to me, but he had made sure I was familiar with my supposed hiding spot.  He had to have known that we were being followed.

Why had we been attacked? It couldn’t be because of me.  Who was the man I had spent a whole week with?  Who was the man whom I had allowed to take me in passion on his penthouse suite floor? “My name is Kiyo Aki. I’m an investor from Japan here on business...”

“History is something of a passion of mine.  Particularly the Sengoku era.”

“This is the crest of a man’s clan who history remembers as a great betrayer.”

“The things you make me feel, __________. It’s been a very long time since I’ve felt anything like this.”

I sigh heavily as I sit up in bed and rub the sleep from my eyes. 

“Where are you?” I think to myself as I look out the window framed by heavy velvet curtains. “Did you survive the attack?”

My head turned slowly when the sound of a steadfast knock on the door to my room echoed the unnecessarily large space. 

“_____, may I enter?” The sound of Sebastian’s voice brought another sigh to the front and I knew I needed to brighten up.  I didn’t want to face too many questions if anyone saw the sadness that was surely seated in my eyes.

“You can come in!”

Sebastian bowed before entering the room and shutting the door behind him. “Le Comte wishes to see you this morning. He’s concerned about the state you came to us in.  He also mentioned having a task for you, were you interested.”

“A task? What kind of task?”

“I didn’t ask.  Please dress quickly.  I shall wait for you outside.”

Five minutes later, I was stopping outside Le Comte’s office, one step to the back and the side from Sebastian, as he knocked for entry. From deep within the room beyond, a low voice permitted us entry and Sebastian opened the door.

Le Comte’s office was lavish and warm.   Earthy brown, blood red and brightest gold covered the walls, floors and furniture - even the crochet doilies on a small table next to a large, plush chair, had gold accents to it. It reeked of wealth and felt as if it had been ripped right out of a history book on fashion and decor from my time. Continuing my scan of the room, I felt a fourth person in the room as my eyes landed on heavy dark curtains on either side of the two open windows behind his desk. The slightly waving silk under-curtains gave the room a gentle look in the way they lazed forward and back with the early morning breeze through the open windows.

At his large, ornate desk, I found Comte sitting there, his elbows on the desktop and fingers steepled in front of his nose as he finished his conversation with his guest.

“M. le Comte. I apologize for intruding.  Ms. __________ is here with me as you wished.”

“Thank you Sebastian.  Would you...”

The rest of what Comte said to Sebastian trailed off into the distance of my attention as my gaze fell on the person with their back to us.  I instantly felt my entire body freeze at an extremely familiar back.

Before I could stop it, a gasp escaped me, drawing Comte and Sebastian’s attention.  I felt my entire body trembling. With excitement? Dread?  I wasn’t sure, but I knew that I did want to see this person to be sure.

“...Kiyo?”

I was fully aware how rude interrupting someone was, but my power to do otherwise was not my own. The urge to get the other person to turn towards me was undeniable.

Slowly, the tall, lithe man facing Comte at his desk turned around. His dark, beautifully cut three-piece suit moving with him. He had crossed his arms while talking to Comte, choosing not to release them as he faced me, but I could see the strength there.  With strength of my own, I forced my head to tilt up so I could see the man’s face. The familiarity with what I saw left me staggered.

“It is you!” I knew I shouldn’t, but my body was moving before I had any control of it. I wrapped him in a tight embrace, exceedingly happy that he seemed to have followed me into the past.

But that happiness was short-lived.

“I do so enjoy attentions from beautiful women.  But might I ask your name first?”

My head snapped up to look at him at his words, shock making my eyes go wide. His hair was the same shock of white despite his young age, same thin, fox-like face, same thin lips that brought me untold pleasure.  But his bright gold eyes with the lingering shadows beyond the surface, showed not even a hint of recognition as the looked at me with interest.

[acrispyapple]

Le Mysterious Comte: Three Hints ☆

An Eternity ♡

[cirilla-fiona-riannon]

Ikevamp Act 2.5

Chapter 11

One late afternoon...

On a hill where red roses bloom under the setting sun, three pureblooded vampires faced each other.

Leonardo: "............."

Vlad: "I didn't expect you to send Da Vinci to fetch me."

Comte: "Long time no see, Vlad."

Vlad: "I haven't seen you like this for hundreds of years, Abe―no, the Count of Saint Germain."

Vlad almost utters the name he used to call him when they were still friends and quickly rephrases it.

Then, Comte, with his golden eyes, looks around the windy hill.

Comte: "This hill is the only thing that hasn't changed since then. It's as beautiful as before."

Vlad: "I used to come here once in a while, but I never saw you, so I thought you'd forgotten about me."

Vlad: "Why did you decide to see me now?"

Leonardo: "You're really asking why?"

Comte breaks the ice as Leonardo sighs at Vlad, who tilts his head like an innocent child.

Comte: "The other day, the residents of my mansion were attacked by the people they had a history with."

Comte: "The only one who can do that is you."

Comte: "After I left you, you built your own door, and you've been looking for a chance to test the great men I've revived. Isn't that right?"

Vlad: "So, what are you going to do? Kill me to stop me?"

Comte: "............"

Comte looks more annoyed by the unfazed Vlad.

Comte: "Vlad, I came here to talk to you."

Comte: "Is your ambition still the same?"

Vlad: "............"

Vlad looks into his old friend's eyes and laughs.

Vlad: "Pft-Ahaha! You're still the same man to ask my wish at this stage of the game, Comte."

Vlad: "You're as cruel and kind as ever."

He stares down and mumbles this to the rose at his feet and looks at Comte again.

Vlad: "My ambition will never change. By any means necessary, I will change the future of this world."

Vlad: "We, vampires, are immortal. We are outside the laws of the world."

Vlad: "But that's why we can change the world and watch over the humans forever."

Vlad: "Just like what I told you before we said goodbye, Comte."

Comte: "I don't agree with managing human thoughts for that purpose, much less using the talents of great men."

Vlad: "You said that before, too."

Although both parties share the same concern for the world, the future, and human beings, the words they throw at each other don't match, and silence falls.

Then...

Leonardo: "You guys are not on the same wavelength."

Leonardo: "I'm a pureblood, so I understand your feelings for humans."

Leonardo: "I once selfishly sought eternity with humans, too..."

Comte: "Leonardo..."

Comte looks at Leonardo, who reminisces and smiles bitterly.

Leonardo: "But humans live their limited lives as best they can."

Leonardo: "I'm sure you know how beautiful that is, Vlad."

Vlad: "............."

Leonardo: "No one in this world, not even us purebloods, has the right to tell humans how to live their lives."

Vlad: "You're right. People are fragile and lovable. I love them just the way they are."

Vlad: "But people make sad mistakes―mistakes that cannot be undone."

Comte: "You mean the devastation you saw in the future?"

Leonardo: "So you're going to set the course straight? You think you're a God?"

For a moment, a pang of loneliness flashes in Vlad's eyes as he hears the word, God.

Vlad: "If God is supposed to be perfect, why is there evil in the world?"

Vlad: "I remember some philosopher saying that."

Leonardo: "Leibniz?"

Vlad smiles like a ceramic doll, not a hint of loneliness in his eyes anymore.

Vlad: "When I saw that sad future, I decided that I would definitely save this world."

Vlad: "Hey, do you think what I'm trying to do is evil?"

Comte: "..........."

Amber, golden and crimson eyes intersect, mirroring each other...

After a while, Leonardo turns away.

Vlad: "Oh, you're leaving? I thought you would punch me at least once."

Leonardo: "If I punch some sense into you now, I'm no different from the brainwashing you're doing."

Leonardo: "If you're going to stick to your own justice, we'll also stick to ours."

With that, Leonardo walks away without looking back, and Comte, staring at his back, looks back at Vlad again.

Comte: "Hey, Vlad. You were once betrayed badly by humans."

Comte: "But then there was a "human" who saved you, yes?"

Vlad: "............"

Comte: "Don't you think that by controlling people's hearts, you're also trampling on the kindness of that person?"

Vlad shuts his lips in response to his question, then says something unexpected.

Vlad: "Hey Comte. Mitsuki is such a nice girl."

Comte: "Why do you suddenly mention her name? Is it because you've already investigated her?"

Vlad: "Don't be so paranoid. I met Mitsuki by chance on the street. I guess you could call it a miraculous fate."

Vlad: "I can't remember her face very well because it's been too long, but I felt like she was the one who saved me."

The look in his eyes is more wistful than nostalgic.

And yet, feeling a sense of regret that they can no longer understand each other, Comte tells him this.

Comte: "Vlad, your love is so pure. But you're constantly torn between your love for humans and your ego."

Comte: "However, if you hurt my family or Mitsuki, I won't forgive you."

Comte: "I promise to protect them with my own hands."

Comte turns on his heel, fluttering the hem of his coat, and leaves among the roses.

A gust of wind dances across the room and Vlad is left alone as petals block his view, drowning out his old friend's back.

Vlad: "It would have been better if I didn't have to carry anything on my back. But..."

Vlad: "Someone has to change things. I will only hate the sins humans commit and save this world."

Vlad: "This world in which you are living, Mitsuki."

Vlad's letter arrived at the mansion a few days later.

"On the night of the crescent moon, I will give you a gift. Show me your true worth."

It was unmistakably a warning of an attack.

[Mansion’s Garden]

Duke of Wellington: "Haa! I'll bury you this time, Napoleon!"

The sound of swords clashing violently in the garden and the yells of hatred reverberate through the air.

Duke of Wellington: "No matter how many wars I fought, a world of peace never came. And I realized, Napoleon, that if I don't kill you, my war will never end!!"

Napoleon: "Wake up, Wellington! There used to be righteousness in our fight."

Napoleon: "What's even the point of this fight right now!? Did you forget why you took up the sword!?"

Wellington attacks Napoleon and Gilles attacks Jean.

Gilles: "I couldn't save you from being accused of heresy. I couldn't do anything for you, my friend!"

Gilles: "So this time, I will kill you as you wished!"

Jean: "Gilles, maybe that's how you feel about friendship."

Jean: "But I think my true wish is―!"

Gilles: "True...?"

Comte: "Jean!"

Jean: "!!"

Comte pins Gilles from behind, breaking the position of their repeated sparring.

After struggling a bit, Gilles manages to escape from the restraints and glares at Comte.

Gilles: "You're the man who brought Jean back to life? How dare you...”

Comte: "Yeah, that's right. Gilles de Rais."

Comte: "Even if you're Jean's friend, I won't let you hurt him."

Jean is stunned by Comte's presence, enough to make the air tremble.

Then, Leonardo thumps his fist in front of Wellington, who is confronting Napoleon.

Napoleon: "Leonardo, you..."

Leonardo: "I don't like it when people mess around in other people's backyards. Even if you say you don't want me, I'll join you."

Duke of Wellington: "Well, here come the purebloods. Fine, if you won't die, I'll just cut you up into little pieces!"

Leonardo: "Never underestimate the power of a Pureblood."

Under the taunting crescent moon, the fierce battle began again between soldiers who had gone through successive wars and purebloods, who give off a tremendous air that no ordinary person can match.

While Napoleon and the others are fighting back in the garden, inside the mansion―

Sebastian: "It pains me to say this to a respected great man, but I'm afraid I'm going to have to stop you here. Ha!!!"

Salieri: "Guh!"

Sebastian stops Salieri from entering the mansion with a karate foot sweep, while Dazai comes up to him with a rope.

Dazai: "Breaking through a barricaded doorway with these slender arms―does brainwashing increase your arm strength too?"

Sebastian: "They say that humans normally suppress their natural power in their lives, so maybe he lost control of it when he was driven mad."

Dazai: "I guess you could call it superhuman strength. But I'm worried that only Gauguin hasn't shown up."

Mitsuki is left in charge of the others and has them retreat into the mansion.

Meanwhile, Salieri grunts as Dazai grabs him in the arms to restrain him.

Salieri: "Ugh, ahh! I have to kill Mozart. Mozart...!"

Dazai & Sebastian: "!!!"

Still having some power left, Salieri shakes off Dazai and Sebastian.

[Music Room]

(Sebastian, Dazai, and Theo, I hope they're ok.)

Mozart, Isaac, Vincent, and I took refuge in the music room.

Theo said he had a plan and went his separate way, and Arthur followed along, so now we are all split up.

Vincent: "Sorry. I'm going to check in with Theo and the others."

Isaac: "Eh? But Theo says he has a plan."

Vincent: "Yes. But Theo is my precious little brother, and I want to be there for him."

(Vincent has the same determined eyes as when he said, "I have to protect Theo" before.)

Mitsuki: "Go ahead. I think that would be best for both of you."

Mozart: "Seriously. The residents of this mansion are really selfish. Take care of yourself, Vincent."

With a smile and a thank you, Vincent left the music room.

Inside the quiet room, we can hear the swords clashing against each other from the garden.

(That's an intense sound, I hope everyone is safe.)

As I put my anxious, cold hands in prayer, cherry-red eyes peek into my face.

Isaac: "Mitsuki, are you okay?"

Mitsuki: "Yeah, I'm fine. I'll protect you if something happens!"

Isaac: "Stupid, you don't have to act so tough at a time like this."

Isaac stares at me with narrowed eyes.

Isaac: "This is why I'm worried about you. Don't push yourself too hard and rely on me."

Isaac's kindness slowly spreads through my heart.

Isaac: "Besides, Napoleon is not someone you can beat so easily. I'm sure he's safe."

Mozart: "And Jean, too. And there are two purebloods with them. So, don't worry about it."

Just as I am about to smile, I hear the door open...

Salieri: "I finally found you, Mozart."

Mozart & Isaac: "----!"

The door slowly opens, and a pale but very sad-looking man enters.

(This guy is Salieri!?)

(And is he holding a knife!?)

Salieri: "Mozart, just being around you is enough to make me jealous."

Salieri: "The suspicion that I poison you still haunts me to this day."

Mozart: "Salieri, you..."

Salieri: "Please disappear along with this ugly emotion. For the peace of my soul!"

Salieri readies his knife and approaches Mozart straight on.

Mitsuki: "Run, Mozart!"

Mozart: "............"

Shortly after Mozart distanced himself from us...

Strong and beautiful fortissimo tune echoes throughout the room.

The moment Mozart runs up to the piano and plays a key, Salieri stops moving as if struck by lightning.

Mozart: "Thank goodness. It looks like you still have some reason left in you for not wanting to stain the piano with blood."

Mozart: "If that's how you are, I want to believe in you again."

Salieri: "Mozart, I'll kill you! That's why you have to finish me off too."

Mozart: "Tossed around by insanity, feelings, and rootless rumors―Salieri, it looks like you want me to punish you.""

(What do you mean by that?)

Remembering Mozart's words and Salieri's words and actions thus far, I remember someone.

Isaac: "I wonder if he's somehow the same as Hooke. Maybe he'll come to his senses too.”

(True. Both Salieri and Hooke seem to recognize their talents.)

Maybe that's why they are jealous.

In Salieri's case, he probably couldn't even allow himself to feel that way.

Perhaps his honesty was driven out of control by madness.

Salieri: "But I hear a voice in my head saying, 'kill, kill, kill. How can you be sure that's not what I really want!?"

Mozart: "Wake up, for goodness sake. You were a damned good musician. I know that past all too well."

Mozart: "You don't need this stuff. Your hands and mine are supposed to create music."

Mozart unfolds Salieri's fingers, and the knife falls to the floor.

(Is the brainwashing coming off?)

Salieri tries to touch the piano like he finally finds his lost treasure.

Salieri: "Ugh...Ahhh!"

Suddenly, Salieri runs out of the room, painfully holding his head.

Mozart: "Salieri!"

Involuntarily, we followed him.

At the same time, in the parlor room, Theo is glaring at his friend.

Theo: "Oi, Arthur. Why are you following me?"

Arthur: "Hm? I can't just leave my reckless buddy in the middle of an enemy attack, can I?"

Theo: "I'm not reckless."

As Theo tries to retort, Arthur points his fingertips at him in the shape of a gun.

Theo: "Arthur, you..."

Arthur: "Sorry, Theo. But did you know how much I've seen you naked?"

Arthur: "I know you're a private person, and you're careful to hide it, but I saw it one time while we were taking a bath... Your back."

Theo's sea-colored eyes flicker slightly, and he sigh.

Theo: "You're a great detective. I'm sure you have a pretty good idea of what's going on."

Theo: "He, Gauguin, is going after my brother tonight."

Arthur: "So you split up with Vincent to take advantage of the opportunity and take revenge, is that it?"

Arthur: "To the point of using Vincent himself as a decoy."

Theo: "That's not my intention. I came back for this moment. I won't make a mistake this time."

Theo: "I'll take revenge on Gauguin and save my brother. I'll make up for everything I regret that day."

Theo: "So don't stop me, Arthur."

Arthur: "............."

When Theo tries to turn away, Arthur reaches out and slaps him on both cheeks.

Theo: "!?"

Arthur: "I'm not going to comment on your purpose. So what if you came back for revenge? I don't care. You're free to do whatever you want."

Arthur: "But what are you going to do after you get your revenge?"

Theo: "That's..."

Arthur: "I can tell. You're going to leave your brother alone after getting your hands dirty."

Arthur: "You're going to disappear."

Theo keeping silent would be the same as affirming it.

Arthur: "You know, trying to hold it all together like that is just too distant."

Arthur: "I want to stay friends with you. That's why I'm stopping you."

Theo: "Wha―Arthur, you..."

Arthur: "This is my choice. I don't need you to tell me what to do."

Arthur: "Mitsuki told me before that there's nothing wrong with following your heart."

Arthur: "And while we're talking, it looks like you got a visitor."

The next moment, one of the windows bursts open.

A man jumps in through the window and points a gun at Theo.

Gauguin: "Hey, Theodorus. I've been looking for you."

Theo: "Gauguin! I thought you were after my brother!?"

Gauguin: "Of course, I'm after Vincent, too. Because..."

Vincent: "Theo, there you are!"

Theo: "Broer! Why―"

Theo's eyes widen as Vincent bursts into the room, and Gauguin smiles crookedly.

Gauguin: "Hahaha! Nice timing Vincent!"

Gauguin: "Time to make the innocent you drown in despair!"

Seconds after Gauguin raises the gun and pulls the trigger on Theo―

Arthur: "Theo!"

Theo: "Got it!"

Arthur sends a warning and kicks over the billiard table with Theo.

Theo then pulls his friend by the neck with one hand and his brother's sleeve with the other. Shortly after, a gunshot rings out.

The shot scorched the billiard table without hitting anyone.

Theo: "Broer."

Behind the billiard table that served as a shield for the three, Vincent's arms were wrapped around Theo's head to protect his brother.

Vincent: "I wanted to protect you this time because I died before you did."

Theo: "Broer, don't tell me that day―"

Vincent: "But no. Even now, you're still protecting me."

Vincent: "Theo, thank you for always thinking of me."

Vincent: "But let's both carry the heavy burden from now."

Vincent: "I'm your broer, after all."

Theo: "............"

Gauguin, after missing his shot, clicks his tongue and tries to raise his gun again, but a long leg kicks him in the arm.

Gauguin: "Agh!"

Arthur: "I'm more of a brainy guy, so I'm not really suited for this kind of physical combat."

Arthur: "Please don't try to ruin the emotional scene between the brothers."

Gauguin: "Damn it..."

Gauguin drops his gun and runs off into the hallway of the mansion, catching everyone by surprise.

Arthur, Theodorus, and Vincent look at each other and chase after him.

[Mansion’s Garden]

Wellington draws his sword widely, and the tip slices through Napoleon's cheek.

Duke of Wellington: "Hahaha! What's the matter, Napoleon? Are you having a hard time!?"

Napoleon: "Guh... We've been going at him for a while now, and he's not even intimidated by the two of us. Is he a monster?"

Leonardo: "Maybe it's because of the brainwashing."

As Leonardo joined him, Napoleon, looking for the right move, continued to parry the attack, when Wellington's sword swiped at the water in the fountain.

Napoleon: "Merde!"

The splash on his face blinded Napoleon for a second.

Duke of Wellington: "This is the end, Napoleon Bonaparte!"

The next moment, a sharp sword is thrust at Napoleon―

Shakespeare: "Guh...!"

Napoleon & Leonardo: "Shakespeare!?"

Between Napoleon and Wellington lay Shakespeare, who braced himself to take the sword.

Previous Part╏Next Part

[ikev-mpire]

ikedaddies punishing u (together)

based on this post

(lets say comte brought everyone from all three times/universes to his mansion and so you all just live together there and you’re in some type of polyamorous relationship with too many doms lmfao good luck) (also I literally hate this I guess my brain wanted to take multiple different approaches to this so im keeping the part I ACTUALLY wanted to write simpler and I might just write a foursome for it later) (don’t go into this expecting it to be good Im not even brave enough to read over it bc its THAT bad)

first off lets start with their main dynamic. normally when all of them punish together, they take on three different roles- one per each. the punishment, the reward, and the aftercare. 

it gives a sense of organization and none of them really mind- they enjoy the roles they took on. 

normally, Saint-Germain handles the punishment, Sirius the rewarding, and Hideyoshi the aftercare (to no-ones surprise)

occasionally, Sirius and Saint-Germain might switch roles, because it isn't too difficult to tip Sirius over the edge and Saint-Germain does have a thing for watching.

if, somehow, you manage to piss all of them off enough to be punished by all three... god save your soul but that's a story for later

now on to the main ways to tee them off, then on to the fun part :)

Saint-Germain (ironically) doesn’t really like to share. the main way to earn a punishment from him is to play on his jealous bone

lean a little too close to Arthur, brush your hand against napoleon’s across the dinner table, fix sebastian’s hair when it falls into his eyes as he’s washing dishes... bend over a little too slowly in the dining room when Isaac drops his fork. definitely don’t wear anything revealing (though he’s bought you quite a few more revealing things to wear just for him, Sirius, and Hideyoshi) outside of your room. 

Sirius hates when you question his dominance, when you tease him as if you don’t believe he’ll do anything about it.  he despises when you disobey his orders, and hates when you treat either of the others as if they have more power than he does (comte in particular- he likes to be on an equal level with his other dominants but you tend to treat comte with a little bit more respect than Sirius because comte is the one who usually comes with a punishment)

Hideyoshi has admirable control over his feelings, things like jealousy don’t tip him over the edge, but the two things that will cause him to lose it, drop his self control and punish you with pleasure and light pain until you listen to him, are when you do anything to endanger yourself and when you pleasure yourself without permission

starting the fun part. their individual punishments. 

they always tell one another when they have to punish you so you don’t end up with too many punishments and no rewards (theyre a very organized group of... daddies...) 

they usually like to punish all together, so that all three of their roles are perfectly fulfilled, but of course sometimes it comes down to them punishing you on their own. 

they do have one big rule though- they never punish you in your room. that’s your safe area and they want to keep it feeling like a safe area for you. anywhere else is cool though. and I do mean anywhere. 

Saint-Germain likes to punish you in his own room. his solo punishments mainly include staking his claim. marking you as his own is a big thing when he’s jealous, so expect a lot of hickeys and biting. 

he has amazing self-control, and even when he’s absolutely losing it inside, youll never know by looking at him. 

he always has a calm, elegant smile on his face, at least until you look away, and his eyes narrow and darken and his tongue darts out to wet his lips. 

he’s all gentle teases, he loves hearing you beg for him- knowing you belong to him. his hands brush over your skin in-between bites, just barely touching you until you’re begging and pleading for him to touch you properly. 

he marks you calmly, lips moving slowly over different areas of your body to stake claim with his lips and fangs so that you remember not only who you belong to, but who’s punishing you. 

he tends to tie or cuff your hands- he wants you to know who’s in charge, and who’s not. hint: you’re most definitely not. ever.

he’ll stuff your own panties into your mouth and flip you over onto your front, mumbling that no-one should hear you but himself before continuing to tease you. his teasing would get worse with every punishment, making sure it would be one you wouldn’t soon forget.

just before you snapped, he’d stuff you full of his cock, pausing to let you adjust and groaning lowly in response to the loud cry of relief it drew from you. 

he’d thrive off your noises, fucking you fast and rough and when you spit your panties out, he’d stuff your mouth instead with his fingers. 

by the time he was done with you you’d be utterly exhausted, and so he’d clean you up and take you back to your room, calling Sirius and Hideyoshi in so you were surrounded and taken care of by everyone you loved when you fell asleep.  

Sirius would generally use a bit of a rougher punishment, intent on proving to you that he could be just as good, if not better, of a punisher than the others when it came down to it. 

he’d punish you anywhere he could get you alone (except your room of course), taking you into any room with a lock on the door and immediately pinning you to the wall with his body, one hand pulling your thigh up to lock around his waist and his other roughly grasping your chin to force your eyes to meet his. 

he’d lean down and lock your lips, kissing you rough and deep before lifting your other leg to hold you up entirely with his own body and the wall behind you so that you were utterly vulnerable to him, smirking when you whimpered as he ground himself into your core, opened to him due to your legs being wrapped around his waist. 

“what’s that little lady?” he’d tease against your lips, grabbing your waist with his hands to hold you as he stepped back off the wall, moving to find somewhere he could sit down. 

as soon as he sat down he’d grind you down on his growing erection before practically shoving you off, placing you on the ground with a dark gaze before folding his arms and leaning back. “strip” he’d demand, watching you do it before patting his fully clothed thigh, silently instructing you to bend over his knee. 

he’d make you count and thank him for each spank until your ass was red and raw, and then he’d pick you up and lift you to straddle his lap, grabbing your hair and once again making you stare into his eyes, smugly smirking at the tears staining your cheeks. 

“will you listen to me now, little lady? or do you want me to throw you around? you want me to tease you like comte? you want me to fuck you like him?” his deep voice would ring, one hand at your waist, holding your ass down on his pants so you could feel the burn of the rough fabric against your hot skin as his other hand grasped the hair at the nape of your neck to keep you completely controlled under his touch. 

he loved your whimpers, always wanting you to be louder for him. 

he’d make you ride him, watching amusedly as you searched for pleasure that only he could give you until your thighs burned and you begged him to fuck you. 

he’d move you to the wall again, using it as leverage to plow into him until you were crying for him. 

afterwards he’d wrap you in his jacket and, just like comte, he’d take you back to your room and call the others to come help you calm down and rest. 

Hideyoshi prefers to punish you with pleasure, overwhelming you until you’re shaking in sensitivity. if you carry something you know is too heavy for you or aren't careful enough with a kitchen knife and risk hurting yourself and happen to get caught, he’ll instantly scold you, taking whatever object from your hands and telling you to go back to his room  while he handled this

instantly you’ll know what he has in store for you, so you’ll obey in order to keep yourself out of trouble (if you’re to really tick him off by disobeying he’ll hunt out the others for a rougher punishment that he couldn’t provide himself- he really hated hurting you in any way and therefore his punishments were always a bit weak)

if he finds you in his room obeying, he’ll immediately tear your clothes off and pin you down to the bed, tying you up with your own clothing so you can’t push him off as he leans down and presses kiss after kiss over every bit of your skin. 

he won’t hesitate to let his hands wander, pleasuring you instantly. he could never resist the urge to touch you, and so he never did.

the second his fingers stuffed themselves inside of you he’d be going at an overwhelming pace, pounding into you until you came as his lips worked over your skin

as soon as you come, his lips will be trailing down, cleaning his fingers off before he starts to suck on your clit, making you whine in overstimulation and squirm to get away. 

he would live off your reactions, loving the way you whined when he overwhelmed you with pleasure. his goal would be to make you cum on his tongue and fingers as many times as you could stand, tiring you out before he finally made love to you

his thrusts would be soft and slow, loving the way your walls clenched and spasmed around his dick as your body shook and you whimpered for him

“shh,” he’d soothe you, thumbs stroking the tears from your cheeks as he peppered kisses over your face. “let me worship you,” he’d hum, moving to mark over your neck. “since you never worship yourself.” 

you would be utterly exhausted when he was done with you, panting and lying limp with drooping eyelids as he untied you and dressed you in the sheet of his bed, covering you entirely so he could take you to the thermae and let the hot water soothe your muscles. (he’d of course leave a note on the door to keep everyone else out) and then carry you to your room to lay with you as you slept. 

NOW if you managed to piss ALL of them off simultaneously, like if you were playing with them, teasing all three in whatever way you could throughout the day to get their attention, their eyes would lock in recognition and they’d already know what needed to be done. 

clearly you just wanted attention and so they wouldn’t give it to you, making you push them further and further until there was no avoiding a punishment. the three of them would stick closer together throughout the day, making sure that if one of them caught you alone they would all be there and as soon as you were alone, they’d shove you into whoever’s bedroom was the closest and all three of them would work together to keep you under control. 

Sirius would have your hands behind your back, hideyoshi clearing off a space on the bed to for Saint-Germain to push you down on. Sirius would smirk mischievously, pulling your wrists over your head to hold you still as he kneeled on the bed, your head laying on his crotch as you felt his cock grow beneath your head. Hideyoshi grabbed your ankles, holding you still and kissing over your legs as Saint-Germain moved to straddle you, smiling calmly as his fingers would stroke your cheek. 

“is this what you wanted, ma chérie?” he would coo, leaning down to kiss your lips as his hands wandered over your torso, finding purchase against your chest. 

Sirius would watch silently as comte teased you, smiling at your whimpers and occasionally chiming in to offer comte a better idea, or a way he’d like to see you punished. 

Hideyoshi would gently worship your legs and ankles with kisses and nips of teeth, massaging your feet with his hands to keep you grounded, smirking as he watched the other two punish you. “be gentle with her,” he’d croon almost teasingly, pausing to kiss up to your knee and back down before repeating it with the other leg. “she can’t handle both of you,” 

he’d spur on more teasing, making you whimper in protest because you wanted both of their punishments, all three at the same time. 

eventually you’d end up with comte fucking your mouth, sirius plowing into you from behind as hideyoshi watched, controlling the movements of your hand around his cock with thrusts of his hips until a larger hand wrapped around yours and sirius smirked, telling you to “do it right, or else” as he helped you pump hideyoshi’s cock until it was his turn to take care of you, using gentle pleasure and praise to bring you back down from your overwhelming high. 

and that is it for now i didnt really rhink about what i was writing as i wrote it so i KNOW its unorganized and i hate it hsufjkv,

[flowers-creativity]

Bad Luck (chapter 19)

Fandom: The Musketeers Characters: Porthos du Vallon, Athos (Comte de la Fere), Aramis (René d’Herblay, d’Artagnan (Charles), Jean Tréville, Flea Warnings: Violence, whipping, racism, slavery, abduction, minor character death Summary: Porthos rarely had bad luck at the card table. But when he hit a streak of really bad luck, it was only the beginning …Soon, the other three Inseparables were desperately searching for their missing friend while he did his best to get back to them.

Notes: Angst, thy name is Aramis ...

AO3 link

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18

Chapter 20

The atmosphere in the small room had changed with Porthos' first awakening. The routine that followed in the next few days was no less familiar than that of their earlier days but much less tense. He was still sleeping most of the time, but now they could relax and leave his bedside more, catch up on sleep themselves and get fresh air, though it went without saying that one of them was still there whenever he woke.

Two days after he had come around for the first time, they said goodbye to Marcel and Fadil. The two men had sent word of their survival and freedom to their families when they had originally arrived at the small inn, using the same carrier Athos had sent to update Captain Tréville, but they had refused to even entertain the idea of returning to Paris while Porthos' fate was still uncertain. Now that he was no longer in danger and on the mend, the call of home was too strong to ignore any longer, which none of the Musketeers could fault them for. They left exchanging smiles and firm handshakes, and the promise to call at the garrison in a few weeks to catch up and check with their own eyes that Porthos had fully recovered, of which Aramis was convinced.

At least his body. His mind and soul, now, might be a different matter.

Aramis tried to push back that niggling worry and stretched, working out a kink in his back. He sat back on his chair and propped his stockinged feet up on the edge of the bed, contemplating the still form of his sleeping friend. Porthos was on his belly, one arm loosely curled around the pillow. His bare back was a network of dark scabs, the infection finally gone from the wounds so that they were healing. They had opted to leave the wounds open to the air for a while to aid in healing, and Aramis could see the first patches of shiny new skin and scar tissue between the scabs. They would have to work on keeping the skin of Porthos' back flexible, and he would bear the scars to remember this experience for the rest of his life. But still, it was the best possible outcome they could have hoped for, Aramis supposed.

As for his state of mind, it was harder to say. He had been quiet whenever he was awake, but how much of that was due to the lethargy of a body sapped of strength by fever and lack of nourishment and the discomfort and lingering pain of healing wounds, was difficult to tell. They had caught up on what had happened while they were separated, but that had been mainly Athos, Aramis and d'Artagnan talking. Porthos had little to contribute they hadn't already heard from Marcel and Fadil …

“Stop thinkin' so hard,” a voice broke into his thoughts, and his head snapped upwards to meet Porthos' eyes. His brother was blinking at him lazily but there was a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Porthos,” Aramis breathed, and as had happened every time he had woken since the first time, he felt another bit of tension leave his body at seeing his eyes clear, hearing his voice speak freely and without confusion. Porthos didn't reply, just cocked an eyebrow at him, and Aramis laughed tiredly and sat back in his chair, rubbing a hand through his messy curls. “I was just woolgathering,” he said.

Porthos hummed and shifted onto his side, grimacing slightly. “Nah, you're worryin',” he said. “Stop that. I'm alright.”

Aramis snorted. “Says the man who's barely able to stay awake for more than an hour still,” he returned.

Porthos narrowed his eyes at him. “Gettin' there, at least,” he insisted.

Aramis nodded, conceding the point. However, he reached out and took Porthos' hand, interlacing their fingers. “You know you don't have to be,” he said, “alright, I mean.” He looked at him intensely, trying to read what was going on behind these dark eyes. “What you went through--”

On most days, he could read Porthos like an open book. Today, however, he could literally see the shutters closing, the walls being built, and he was left disconcerted and helpless on the outside. Porthos' hand twitched in his grip as if he was fighting down the urge to withdraw from him physically, too. His voice was flat as he said: “It's over. I survived. That's what counts.”

“Porthos ...” Aramis' voice was imploring, one step above pleading. “Don't shut me out. You know what happens when you don't deal with things like that. It will fester and turn sour.”

Porthos' brows drew down in a deep frown. “Nothin' to it,” he objected. “And if there is, I'll deal with it.”

“Let me help. And d'Artagnan and Athos – let us help,” the marksman insisted.

“Dammit, Aramis, let me be! I don't want your help!” Porthos ripped his hand from Aramis', scooting back in the bed until his back was to the wall and pulling his legs up. His face was contorted with anger but beneath that, Aramis thought he saw something else, a tremble at the edge of his lips, his eyes a bit too wide and wild.

Aramis raised his hands in a placating gesture, ruthlessly pushing away any hurt feelings that were welling up in him. He knew Porthos was just lashing out. Still, it felt like somebody had reached into his chest, grabbed his heart and squeezed, seeing his brother shy away from him like that. “Hey, it's alright,” he said soothingly. “I'll stop pushing. Just … Please, if you need somebody, come to one of us, yeah? None of us will be judging you.”

Porthos stared at him, his eyes narrowed and his heavy breaths loud in the silence. Finally, he nodded slowly. “Yeah,” he answered grudgingly, his tense body language relaxing slightly. “I know.”

Aramis exhaled and returned the nod. “Come on, lay down again,” he asked. “Sitting with your back against the wall like that can't be pleasant.”

Porthos grunted but shimmied downwards until he could lay down on his side again, propped up on one elbow. He was still looking at him with something bordering on mistrust in his eyes, and Aramis ached from it. Silence settled over them, awkward and heavy. Porthos shifted a few times to find a comfortable position, then closed his eyes, and it did not take long until his breaths evened out into sleep, and Aramis was alone with his thoughts again. He bit his lips, running his hands through his hair and tugging at it, using the minor pain to ground himself. Had he just made things worse? Suddenly, he could no longer stay in place. Surging to his feet, he strode from the room – Porthos was fine, or at least fine enough to be left alone for a bit.

He had barely closed the door behind him and turned when he nearly collided with Athos, drawing up short in the nick of time. A small “Oh!” escaped him.

Athos' eyes immediately narrowed. “Aramis?”

Aramis looked from him to d'Artagnan who had appeared behind their leader, his arms laden with their lunch. “I'm sorry, you just startled me,” he tried to play it off.

Athos' eyes stayed on his face, and he knew that the man could read him – not perfectly, maybe, but enough to notice that something was off. Without looking, he reached past Aramis and pulled open the door. “Go on in, d'Artagnan,” he ordered. “Get everything set up, we'll be along in a minute.”

The Gascon's gaze bounced between them, eyebrows raised, but the lad didn't ask, just nodded. “Alright.” With that, he disappeared into the room, and Athos shut the door behind him. Then he turned to Aramis and asked: “What's wrong?”

Aramis pasted a smile on his face. “Nothing,” he replied while at the same time wondering why he was doing so. Athos was not a fool.

Those cool blue eyes narrowed, torn between concern and annoyance. “Aramis.” It was a talent of their leader that he could say whole paragraphs with only one word, only a bit of inflexion and his accompanying expression. This word clearly said Who do you take me for? and Talk to me, or I'll make you. To underscore it, he reached out and clasped the marksman's shoulder, conveying the sympathy his tone lacked.

Aramis sighed. “Porthos just woke up,” he said, “and I tried to get him to talk to me – about what he had gone through. He … didn't want to. He made that very clear.”

Athos raised an eyebrow. “It's all very fresh for him. He may just need some more time,” he pointed out.

Aramis nodded, flexing his hands to keep himself from them running through his hair again and making even more of a bird's nest out of his curls. “I pushed him too hard,” he confessed, “and … The way he reacted, it felt like he was no longer seeing me but someone who was trying to hurt him. What if--” He broke off, biting his lip. “He has blocked me out before but never like this,” he ended on a whisper.

Athos squeezed his shoulder, his eyes calm as they held Aramis' gaze. “Stop thinking about what-ifs,” he advised. “And I know it's hard that he is closing himself off to you when you want to help him so much. But I'm afraid that the only thing you can do right now is being patient.” He patted his shoulder and let go. “You two always figure it out. Trust that your bond doesn't break so easily – nor does Porthos. He'll get better, and he will talk to you when he is ready.”

The medic took another deep breath, taking strength from Athos' certainty and firm determination. “You're right – thank you,” he said.

Athos gave him a shadow of a smile. “Always, brother,” he replied. “Now – lunch?”

Aramis laughed tiredly. “Yes, please.”

[xathia-89]

A Woman’s Right

They’d managed to jump her when she was locking the doors from the outside to go home to the mansion. It had been a group of seven or eight she estimated, but she wasn’t going to pin any kind of certainty that there weren’t more now. She was focused on losing them, but she wasn’t expecting to be cornered by a second group apparently also looking for her.

This wasn’t how she expected to go. Her mouth was dry as she dashed off in a third direction, trying to make it as difficult as possible for anyone to track her.

Her dress was ruined for sure as a little kid grabbed hold of her skirts in an attempt to warm her to them. She just left them with a patch of fabric in their hands as she continued down the cobbled streets. There had to be somewhere she could go and find some help as she finally spotted an empty carriage.

“Le Comte Mansion please!” She yelled, throwing herself in the vehicle.

“I need paying upfront missy, I’ve had too many of the likes of you stuff me of my money,” the driver shrugged, merely glancing her over.

“Le Comte will pay for it on arrival, I have nothing on me!” The woman was desperate as a leer overcame the face of the driver.

“I’ll take payment in other terms…” he smirked, lowering his newspaper and making a crude gesture before she ran from the carriage. She needed to find someone friendly, but that was going to be almost impossible. The rich wouldn’t help her while she was dressed as she was, and the poor couldn’t help. Anyone in between would require some form of security before helping her, and money wasn’t something she ever carried because of all the pickpockets.

Then the street lights glimmered, a golden coach slowly trundling through the city in time for the men to find her again.

She had to keep running, heading straight for the moving vehicle.

“Sebastian!” She screamed, trying to get the attention of the butler who wouldn’t let Le Comte out at this hour alone.

The horse slowed its pace after a jolt on the reins, but it didn’t stop.

She just needed to go a little further as the door was flung open.

“Evelyn!” Le Comte’s voice was sharp and echoing throughout the street, demanding the cessation of the pursuit. She couldn’t stop and threw herself into his arms, trembling and burying her head into his chest as the Greater Vampire was glowering at the men.

“There’s only two of them…” One man started.

“Three actually,” Sebastian corrected from the driver’s seat as he gracefully climbed down.

A whimper from the ringleader brought the attention back on Le Comte. He was holding Evelyn tightly against him with one arm, and a sword pointing at the other man’s throat.

“You even contemplate coming after this woman again, and you will not live to regret it. Take the hint when your wife and children have left you because they are not your toys to beat about,” his voice was low, a wave of anger and loathing that the woman hadn’t heard in forever coming from him.

They didn’t need telling twice as they disappeared into the night.

Le Comte and Sebastian immediately turned their attention to Evelyn. She was trembling before she found herself swimming in Le Comte’s coat, and looking up at him in surprise.

“I don’t think even Sebastian’s skills can save this dress now, but we need to get you home,” he gently said, already assisting her into the carriage after a nod to the butler that they were leaving.

She didn’t manage to stay conscious for long and fell asleep against the male’s chest without much of an invite. She had been busy at the shelter for several days, and Le Comte was beginning to wonder if she’d spent the entire time awake. Her breathing was steady, and sleep had a firm grasp on her as they pulled up to the mansion.

“I’ll keep her in my room, if you could bring a chance of clean clothes for her to change into after a bath, and a bottle of rouge as well,” the Greater Vampire instructed, carrying Evelyn as one would a child, keeping the coat around her as he was already skewering the men in question.

She looked pale in the light of the mansion as he brought her through the corridors. She had never been the most colourful, but she was threatening to go translucent if she was left for much longer. Sebastian had already run the bath and left a change of bedclothes and morning clothes for her on the chair near the bathroom. He would need to wake her to get her to drink some rouge and to clean up. But she wasn’t going to be left alone as he began to shake her awake, lowering her down to the bed.

“Good morning,” he teased. “You need to drink and bathe, and then you are sleeping in here,” Le Comte instructed, giving her the impression nothing was up for debate.

“I-” she began and then wobbled as she tried to stand on her own feet.

“You’re in no shape to argue,” he smiled, presenting her with a glass before kissing her on the forehead. “Drink, and then clean up and then we rest.”

“Yes, daddy,” she murmured, giving him a slightly rebellious glare before drinking the liquid.

It didn’t take her long to fall asleep. Le Comte was willing to bet that she’d gone before her head had touched the pillow as he was happy to stay awake a little longer and read a nighttime story. The glow of the lamp warmed her face as she was edging closer to him in her slumber. It warmed him, she felt safe around him at least as he ended up sliding against her, he felt the tension disappear at his touch from her body when he wrapped his arm around her. Maybe he could play out the idea in his mind that she’d settle down before he turned the lamp off, and went to sleep with her in his arms for once.