trigger warning: blood, abuse, violence

There was nothing kind about Maël Corentin de Beaufoy but then again, how can you be a good vampire if you are. And that was one of the few things you could say about him without a doubt, he was a good vampire.

Some might blame his history for the way he is now, some might make excuses and yes, deep inside he may have been somewhat of a human being, but nothing of that was shown as he drags Aurelian through the white marble halls, limping and covered in black blood not distinguishably his or the other, his eyes are nothing but rage, but a human could misinterpret that as sadness. The other vampire is struggling, trying to remove the fingers hooked through the skin under his jaw. But I am beginning with the end, so shall we really begin.

Maël de Beaufoy, even in his childhood he was hard to describe. The closest one might get is painfully vague, but for the sake of this story I must try. Growing up he lived in Paris or in his families palace at the Loire. He was an incredibly lonely child, the eldest of four, and the only boy. It depends who you'd have asked what he was like what kind of answer you would get. If you'd ask his professor you would get the answer that he was a studious and thoughtful young boy. If you would ask his music teacher she would answer he is a lively, flamboyant talented boy and if you would ask any other child they would say he was a lonely one. But he the truth is he was a chameleon even then, smart and respectful for his parents, bold and flamboyant for the less respectable. His sisters were quite fond of him, he used to play music so they could dance or he would read them books. They used to call him merle, blackbird, because he always whistled or sung. Merle, that was his name when he felt safe. He wasn't unkind back then, but can a child be really unkind? Can a child be damned?

It wasn't the best time to grow up as an aristocrat in France. As the young boy turned into the most beautiful young man he was oblivious to the incredible danger out on the street as the masses began screaming for freedom. But the decadent boy had become more and more a portrait of what the people of France had come to disdain. His chateaux in Austria and Britain. His indulgence in balls and his general uncaring nature for the other people of France. So as the guillotines were sharpened for the likes of Louis and Marie Antoinette and so the opera loving, musical prodigy and genius found himself shivering in a cold damp cell of hopelessness, trapped with the rats. Because we all knew by then, dear son of a duke, what are you but a rat in expensive clothing?

He knew his fate, or at least he thought he did. His days consisted of staring at the walls bitterly reciting Voltaire or lovingly reciting Descartes. He hummed Bach pieces from start to finish and played whole Shakespeare plays in his head, loneliness became his sanity. Every day he waited to be dead, every day he was disappointed. He was sixteen young years old and he was going to be dead in not much more than a month. He didn't really care how lonely he was. He enjoyed the stars through his the tiny window high in the cell and he still had the decency of wearing the beautiful white clothes he had been raised in.

His life was a beautiful and silent existence for a while, he did not mind. That changed when another prisoner entered the cell. The person was dark and gloomy with short dark hair pale skin. His lips were curled up at all times in a cruel expression. This person was mesmerised by the boy that was locked up. The green eyes met the mysteriously amber ones and all the older man could do was slightly smile at the boy with his stunning honey blond hair. Or was it more red, like the desire of man who are returning from war? Or was it more white? Like the innocence he still had in his face and voice. The boy was mesmerizing, there was something alike to an angel with a childish gaze as he cocked his head and quietly looked at the older man with a hatred that has not been prompted whatsoever.

"My name is Blaise, nice to meet you Maël." "How do you know my name?" The stranger sat down in front of the beauty "I have heard your thoughts. And I can get you out of here, if you promise me some tiny things little duke of Beaufoy." His eyes fixed on the ground, life or death, your own choice. But is it worth being a coward? He lifts his chin in arrogance. "I want your chateaux or at least be allowed to live in them." Maël smiles and scoffs with an air of superiority. "A beggar.... Is that what you are." "Oh Maël, you'd be most surprised what I am." The older man stands up. "The sun is setting, deal or no deal?" "Impress me, beggar." The arrogant duke said.

The only thing he remembers is waking up in a tiny circular room. He recognised it immediately, it was his writing room, but there was no furniture anymore. The loose fitting white blouse had slowly become less bright. He stood up and looked out of the window, the beautiful mountains confirmed that he was indeed in Austria, in his own chateau but still, the doors were locked from the outside. What happened?

Maël stayed there for several nights, walking back and forth trying to recover a memory he did not have. The first time the door was opened it revealed Blaise, Maël sighed thankful he did not dream all of it but was horrified when he saw the gleaming sharp teeth in the moonlight as he tossed a dead rat to the terrified duke, or former duke. "Eat." "What are you?" he chuckled, "Can't you guess? I am a vampire." He tosses a pen and a booklet into the tower "Keep yourself entertained, I heard you liked writing."

Dear notebook,

I have always looked down upon diaries but I cannot convince myself I am not going insane. So I will be writing in the language I invented alongside my sisters so I will be the only one who has knowledge that this is anything but gibberish. It has been six days since this notebook has been tossed into the room. I did not mind my imprisonment, yes I felt betrayed but what could I expect from a beggar playing pretend with his cheap new money clothes. I do not mind isolation, I do not mind starvation, I thrive on it, I have learned how to be and how not to be. I have loved the insolence of the mind, the loneliness of the wisdom, But I can no longer stand this, it has changed since then, the corpses of rats have been replaced by the bodies of young man, all resembling some aspect of me, my toned body, my pale complexion, my half long blonde hair, my green eyes, all still bleeding as they're tossed into the rooms with incredible force. It is like they are crafting my death mask as I am marched to the finish line of death. I have become frightened, when will it be me that lays here rotting? The smell is sweet and putrid as the rats and flies feed on them, chittering and buzzing with delight as the cheek of some poor man is demolished. I have begun to talk to them, I have given them names I must confess. I think he wants me mad. And to be honest, what can you do about that stupid pile of papers?

Maël

Maël began to cry and scream as the bodies piled up through the weeks and he started hurting himself, the boy began to knock on the doors till his fingers broke, and if he could know knock he would scratch, which prompted the vampire to remove his nails entirely, he refused to eat, he refused to sleep, he hit his head against walls in efforts to die, ripping out his own veins for the sweet release of death and one faithful night the vampire had enough. "YOU UNGRATEFUL SWINE" He exclaimed before digging his teeth into the marble neck of the boy. The boy embraced the pain with a maniacal laugh, welcoming his death as his captor slowly sucked the life out of him but as he closed his eyes and felt his consciousness slipping he is dropped to the ground. "No, FINISH IT!" the duke demanded, blinded by pain and tears as his body lay dying. A warm metallic fluid felt like poison as it was forced into his mouth, a mix between acid and alcohol. The best thing he had ever tasted and the equivalent of a rotting corpse. He could not describe the taste, the only thing he could feel was absolute ecstasy. His eyes rolled back in his head as another red liquid filled his mouth and as his body started to change.....the young man passed out.

He woke up from an excruciating pain on his back, there was a slight crumbling sound as he rolled onto his back and immediately flinched as the sun hit his chest. He retorted to the shadows as he stared at his chest. The ashes that it was covered in had been produced from the upper layer of the skin. Why did sun burn him like that? The boy knew, but he didn't want to know. Het started at his hands, all of his veins were visible and his pale complexion had become almost sickly. He closed his eyes trying to focus but instead he heard only talking and heartbeats, of rats, humans, birds and more. He thought he was going crazy, as the sun travelled so did the shadows in the room which in turn meant he needed to move all the time. He had this insatiable hunger so he ate rats all the time, sucking the blood out of them as if it were his second nature. He understood fully, he knew what kind of abhorrent creature he was, the white skin, the fear of sunlight, the thirst, the glass like sharp nails he had grown. "I have been damned." He whispered to himself as a tear fell to the ground.

Dear notebook,

I have never quite been a religious man. What is religion but a cage, but now that I have been forced out I wish God had saved my soul. Perhaps I should have prayed more, but now that I feel the need I am sure he no longer hears me. Because as far as he cares I am dead I suppose, I have been damned against my will. I wanted to die, I wanted to burn in hell, I never wished for this struggle to be eternal. The blood of rats tastes like the vermin that they are, I catch myself dreaming about a drop of human blood, without ever tasting it, I can drink my own blood but it tastes like sadness and despair. It tastes better than rats. But as new bodies entered the tower and it became overcrowded with bones and others I felt the impulse to drink the blood of the newest corpse, it is strange to puncture the skin with your fangs, it is almost as if you bite into a perfectly ripe fruit. The explosion of flavour is extraordinary and every one of them tastes different, some taste like fruit others are savoury, others taste like the work they do. The blood....helps me forget. It makes me more sane, whilst introducing me to more sin, but after all, these young man are already dead.

Maël

The thirst that had driven him to drink blood was cruel, it poisoned him through instinct. After a few nights of feeding off the dead he began to feel dizzy, he began to feel sick and he began to tremble. But he really got concerned when he began to throw up all the blood he had consumed. Litres, floods of blood leaving his mouth, choking in his own spit and air, crying and screaming as his body tortures him from within.

When Blaise opened the door he was horrified to see his fledgling sprawled on the ground, half burned because of the sun. He groaned something unintelligible and carried the younging out of his tower into his former room. Which was still the same, "How long?" Blaise looked surprised by the question. "How long have I been in there." "Only half a year." Blaise said dryly, before giving the boy a glass of blood. The blood was still warm. "We can only drink from the living, they must die of it. Or not, depends how hungry you are." He says. "We get awfully sick when we do drink from the dead." "Then why did you starve me?" "I like my boys thin." He says with a smile, Maël jumped up in absolute frustration and tried to attack the vampire but the vampire moved swifter than a human eye can see and threw him against the wall. "If you are willing to be my fledgling you can live here, but these are my rules Maël. Or should I say Merle?" He said with a hateful tone. The boy did not have much of a choice.

Even while nursing Maël back to health Blaise did not have a grain of kindness in him. Perhaps that is where he learned it.

Dear notebook,

My life has changed, again although I do not know if it is for the better. My bed has been replaced by a coffin. I am forced to sleep in it, as 'every vampire does it' and 'it protects you us from the sun' but I am so incredibly frightened every time he closes the lid, it feels like I am going to be buried. The enclosed space makes me forget how to breathe and I beg him to let me out but he never listens. I am terrified in the dark of this coffin, I do not want to be dead even when it comes with a comfortable silk lining. I feel suffocated tonight and every night I need to spend in anything like this. I need to get out. I want to go back to France, but I know it is not a good idea, and what do I have back in England? Nothing but ruins of a life that has died. So I will simply write in stupid little paper books inside a coffin that terrifies me.
sleep well

Maël

Maël avoided mirrors for a long time he did not want to see the monster he had become, until he simply stumbled onto one. Maël saw his reflection for the first time since he was turned and it mesmerised him, while it also frightened him. How could a monster be so beautiful. He was the thin elegant young man he still knew, his every muscle was carved into his arm and his ribs were eerily but beautifully visible. but there has been a cruel darkness added to the childish innocence and wonder he always had. His hair looked slightly more red now that he was even more pale, his lips had turned a sensual red as if the blood he drunk had stained them. And his bright green eyes had become brighter and.... paler perhaps, there was this dark lining around them he did not use to have. But if you looked closely the eyes weren't green, they were white. Maël was terrified by his new beauty, which people would not claim a work of the devil, but a blessing of god.

Maël endured the abuse of his master for months, in total he endured it for seven years. He was never taught anything about being a vampire, he was nothing but a slave to his master, enduring was all he did. He did not live, he did not enjoy he was trapped and alone. His master would go on and on about all the crazy journey's he had completed. But if he dared to ask to go on one like that there would be punishment. Maël was taught about powerplay and manipulation through the reality of letting it happen to him so he could study it. But all of that would not be worth the things he would never speak of again. He even ripped out the pages that describe it, even though they were encoded. I have always wondered what could've been worse to the horrors of the tower. And still in some fragments you see admiration for his master, maybe even love if he was as naïve as he claimed to be. The strange sentences of "I cherish the moment he comes home from the hunt every night, knowing he has provided for us both. I am grateful for his care and guidance." And a week later he writes "I wish that he would've died before he was a vampire. I wish he was already burning in hell for all eternity, I wish I could burn him." But after three years the fledgling finally had enough. But with the coming turn of the century there should also be a new leader. Six and a half years of torture and abuse and one word was enough to set the fledgling off. "Weak, you have always been a weakling. Even when you were a mortal, the passions and heart you had for this word, pathetically naïve."

Lesson learnt: never call a weakling weak.

Dear notebook,

The death of a vampire seems highly unlikely. But it is not impossible the books that my great grandfather was a obsessed with (very superstitious man) say that stakes do not work on real vampires, only beheadings and flames. And so I have chosen flames, I dress this bastard every night before the hunt and so it won't be hard to soak his clothes in ethanol, he likes things freshly washed, I can say they haven't dried up yet. I will set fire to him, and hopefully he will burn like the whoreson he is. Flames never scared me, I'll burn the whole chateau down if it'll kill him.

Maël

So this is the real you isn't it Maël, not as gracious as you pretend to be. Well, as it was written it was done. The ashes of the vampire he had despised, admired and loved was laying in front of the door of the chateau, and the smirk on Maël's face was easy to read: pride. Weakling, he was, a weakling who killed the supposed master. And now, what to do. He pondered for a week, how could he find other vampires? You can't put an advertisement in the newspaper. The fledgling was already seven years old but he knew virtually nothing about the vampire world. He only knew the laws,

1-eternal life shall not be eternal suffering. No mentally disturbed or physically uncapables shall be given the eternal gift

2-Do not kill your peers, exceptions are made for fledglings, masters, coven members (if you are the leader) and partners

3-anyone who believes you to be a vampire shall be killed or be made complicit

4-do not meddle in other's vampire affairs

5-do not take on a fledgling without the permission of your partner

Maël did not know what to do. He was a helpless fledgling without the guidance of his master, and so he decided to do a very human thing. Start anew:
He moved to Vienna, bought a grand piano and an apartment. With shutters in front of the windows so he could sleep on a bed. He was happy, the 1800's were beautiful! He hadn't seen any living creatures in years. But with that came the exhaustion and the thousand voices, he heard everyone's thoughts, he heard everyone's heartbeats. He could not focus on the melody of Carmen as the beautiful soprano sang her aria, he could only see her throbbing vein bulging because of the effort she was making to make it sound as perfect as it did. He began to hate himself more as he fell in love with the city and it's citizens. He wished to be more like him but he did begin to discover how to manage the thoughts of the beings. He could hear the desires and secrets of most and it was a symphony of humanity. But his hunger for blood did not stop and so he came to the conclusion he will live by the rules and teach himself who he is.

Dear notebook,

How I hate you and my old habits. How I hate myself, I wish I had been born a different boy. A naïve little Lucas who would be looking for a suitable wife by now. Not that a want a female companion at all, I just wish to be normal. I wish to grow out of this stupidly beautiful youthful body. I will never be able to grow a beard! Not that I want to I just wish to be normal. I have been reading up on vampires. My masted was sired by one of the classical ancients, which made his blood pure. He did not sire anyone for at least three hundred years, which should make me in turn powerful but all I can find in me is a helpless little confused man trapped in the body of youth!
I have problems with eating here. I tried to eat chocolate, I missed it. But it tasted like ashes and I threw up because of it. I tried eating birds, it takes too many, it becomes a slaughterhouse and is untidy, I will never lower myself to rats again and cats taste putrid, dogs weren't all bad but they do not satisfy my hunger, I wake up in the middle of the day craving human blood. I will find a way.

Maël

Maël discovered that with the right clothes and make-up he did not look sixteen anymore and with that his problem was solved. Lovers, one a night, he used them like he did cigarettes. Fuck, kill, fuck, kill. It became repetitive and tiring, he tried seeking thrills, he tried finding out more about vampires. He discovered telepathy and how to run as fast as Blaise used to do, but other than that. He felt rather worthless, he became a raging hedonist. Which seemed to be in fashion that season, so he fit right in with all of them. Best thing is that biting wouldn't even surprise his lovers anymore, it would only surprise them when they felt their own life force being drained away. He became more and more tired of the city of Vienna, he wanted more. Berlin perhaps? London? Where would other vampires be?

Dear notebook,

The corpse of a man name Franz is lying next to me. I am aware of the bloody awful name but what a beautiful mind he had, I wish I could've slipped into it and live as him forever. He was handsome, I believe I felt a spark of love.... I hesitated before I killed him. He was talking about the meaning of life, the meaning I ponder so often. He did not have answers but he seemed to be alright with it, his beautiful dark curls smelled like cheap perfume and cigarettes, he was embarrassingly small. Or I might be stupidly tall, I felt like this human could maybe understand me and god.....the poetry in his mind while he looked at me it was more than I could've asked for. I killed him, nonetheless. It proves that there is no meaning to life.

I jumped off a building; founding's: impact does not kill vampires, and I discovered I can float.
for what it's worth. I am sorry Franz, perhaps I could've loved you, if I would still be alive.

Maël

I wonder if this is the time he became deranged, he killed, recklessly, in the middle of opera houses, he loved the sense of being able to be more than the humans beneath him. Although he despised them he had a feeling of superiority to hide that as he fed off their blood, thoughts and desires. He slowly discovered things he could do, and god were they alluring. His research was all that kept him alive, or strictly spoken, dead. He learned he could stop breathing for days, he had no necessity for oxygen, but he did lose the scents of the world when he stopped breathing. Which was a great disadvantage in the hunt. He discovered that he had even better memory than before, he remembered every comma, every spelling error in every book he had ever read. But he was also cursed with the vivid memories of his abuse.

Dear world, dear notebook,

I am quite done with the world. I feel hatred every time I wake up. This hunger and anger fuelling my cursed life has chewed me up and spit me out. There is nothing I can do to feel better. I feel like I no longer know who I am, merle or Mael, Putain, maybe I have turned into Blaise, lonely, forgotten and cruel. My cursed face has become hauntingly beautiful since I have been free, the enamel over my white face is really my skin, I look like a perfect porcelain doll a young girl would collect. I no longer look all that starved although I cannot gain weight, I think I might simply look like this my whole life. I have noticed that my muscles have come back with the hunt but I long to look older. I have spent a decade in Vienna, I have become bored and I still have not found my true potential. I am now thirty-three, and I am still trapped in the innocent body of a sixteen year old. I hate the way my elevated cheekbones exude youth and innocent while I am a vicious killer. Although the rising of the sun makes me drowsy I stay up, looking at the people outside on the streets enjoying a beautiful summer day. I saw a bird, I did not have the urge to eat it. I wanted to touch it and so my childish hand reached out of the beautiful window and it lingered in the basking sun. The sun hurt so much, but the pain was beautiful. I have exhausted my cage in Vienna, so I shall be going our manor back in England.

As it was written, it was done. He was shipped of the ocean in one of those terrifying coffins. But he didn't mind them all that much anymore. He found a quiet life in the countryside in his manor. He enjoyed the loneliness for a few months, but after that he returned to bustling London to get a taste of culture. His French accent often got ridiculed by the middle class and the upper class would simply speak French with him. He enjoyed England as he sometimes even dared to go outside when the sun was hiding behind the cloud, there would be reason enough for an umbrella. The fresh culture brought new celebrities and literary heroes with it. He would be consumed by books many nights, the others were spent discovering London.

And one day, he fell in love. Or perhaps he fell for opportunity. Slaughtering people had become his usual pastime, he enjoyed it more than the relishing of blood. But there was one thing he had come to love more, fashion, the fleeting evidence of time. Dandy's those were the boys he fell for, they had the time and money to be seen. They loved being seen, and how he loved seeing them. It was hard finding tailors that do not mind to do their work at night, and so it was necessary he hired some people, servants if you will. He'd tell them he had a rare condition which made him allergic to sunlight. They would leave him alone most times, but they did run his errands. His new life was quite perfect, albeit lonely.

It was a quiet night as Maël was humming Bach on a bench in a park. A young man sat down beside him, "Allergic to sunlight it seems...." The pale man with his short black hair said. "Unfortunately" He said while lighting his cigarette. The grey eyes of the older man dart toward the youngster. "You look exceptionally beautiful for a sixteen year old, Maël" Maël jumped up and looked at him in horror, The man smiled and revealed his sharp canines. Maël's eyes widened and he stood up, frightened by other vampires. "I am not like your maker." He said with a smile "I will not harm you, I promise on my own grave." Maël looked at him. "Who are you?" "They call me the Caïd, but you can call me Aurelian darling." He said with a smile. He slowly walked backwards, still terrified of the being he was himself too. "Don't be scared, little one. I have no intentions to hurt you." "Who are you?" "I am the London coven leader, I am the one you are supposed to bow to." He smiles and looks the boy up and down. "But now that I see you I don't know if I want to." "Leave me alone." He said while he walked away but the muscular vampire simply appeared in front of him. "You walk with pride Merle..... You have been looking for us for years and now you are giving up? It seems out of character." The vampire caresses the boys face. "At least hesitate." "I don't need a second coming of cruelty!" The boy spat into the arrogant vampires face. Aurelian chuckled, "The sun is coming up, join us, at least for one night." "You cannot force me." "Oh you'd be surprised little fledgling."

Dear notebook,

Fledgling, a word I have despised for over a decade, it means newborn vampire. Under fifty years from the time you have been turned, it is a synonym to weakling. A hatred spewed by the vampires more powerful than you. But this Aurelian, he intrigues me, he did not look at me like I was sixteen, it was as if he saw me the way I wanted to be seen. He saw I was no longer a child, a teenager, he saw my soul instead of my appearance. I felt like he was the first person I ever stood a chance with, and he is a coven leader. A fledgling as a coven leader would be absurd....but what about a fledgling as a puppet-master? Arrogance comes before the inevitable fall. So London coven, here I come.

Maël

That night he opened his door and a group of people was standing in front of it. "What is this? An angry mob?" he said with a chuckle as he looked at Aurelian. "There is a family party nearby, stupid aristocrats with money problems, suicides or disappearances would make sense. Will you be joining us Duc the Beaufoy?" The vampire asks almost lovingly. "Of course." The whispering thoughts of desires were not fully clear when Maël tried to read them. But that was with every vampire, it is not as easy to read their minds. They all mounted their horses, but first Aurelian leant in and whispered "Get out of my head darling" The smirk painted on the young vampires face was a new feeling of excitement he had not felt long time.

The feast of the family was something Maël could not dream of, hunting together was eventful and exciting. It became a game to scare the humans before eating them, the bloodbath staining their clothes a beautiful crimson red was deliciously metallic with a hint of cinnamon. The night ended with some of the younger vampires still eating back in the ballroom while Maël was smoking a cigarette, staring at the moon and humming a song. "I thought I would find you here." Aurelian said as he floats up to the roof. He sits down beside him and twirls the beautiful loose ringlets around his finger. "You don't kill like a fledgling Merle." "How old are you Aurelian?" He smiles and shrugs "What is the concept of time to us vampires.... I was turned when I was 23, I am about six hundred years old. The young one tilts his head "Are you an ancient?" "Most coven leaders are." Maël smiled, "Aurelian, if I joined your coven. Do I have to call you Caïd?" "Depends.....impress me little blackbird." He says as he stood up and jumped off the building.

Year 645:

I have met a new vampire. This youngling intrigues me, he feeds my curiosity and search for innocence and meaning. I call him Merle but his name is Maël, I feel my paralysed heart race when he is near and I dream about his eyes at night. I am afraid I am falling in love, he has a childlike charm to him whilst being more arrogant and proud than any vampire I have met. His shoulder length hair could be compared to a summer morning I haven't seen for centuries and his eyes are greened than a leaf in the middle of the spring. I could write sonnets about him and I feel like I could die for him. He is beautiful, he is wise, he is funny and charming. He walks magnificently, his shoulders going up and down as if they lead him forward as he elegantly crosses his foot in front of the other. He dresses like a dandy and playfully recites plays for the coven, they are enchanted by him. I have not see this kind of vampire since Blaise. I am glad he has joined the coven, I have been enchanted by a vampire for the first time since my maker laid eyes upon me.

Caïd Aurelian

It is easy to underestimate a genius posing as a child. A puppet master he was, but how he began to love his puppets. One night Aurelian told him he would be going to Paris for some coven matters and if Maël would be interested in joining him. Returning to his homeland after about 17 years was a heavy burden but it was also an adventure to see his beloved city again. And so it came that the two vampires were sitting atop of the Paris opera house laughing nd drinking fresh blood out of magnificent crystal wine glasses. "My Merle," The puppeteers heart was betrayingly warm every time the ancient called him mine. The young vampire smiled, "Yes my Caïd?" The other one chuckled, "Have you heard of vampire mates?" "Synonym to vampire partners right?" He nodded, "I think I have fallen in love with you little blackbird." "I can't say I haven't my fearless leader..." Maël said, the other one smiled. "Do you want to be my partner?" Maël smiled with a joy he had not felt in a long time. "Certainly"

Vampire partnerships start with an incredibly intimate ritual. Vampires hardly drink each other's blood. It tastes good, maybe even better than human blood but it creates bonds, stronger than love. It is something that is hard to sever, minds become accommodated to each other. Drinking blood is more intimate than anything like the bodily desires. It is beautiful, the way the blood willingly travelled through the vampires declaring their bond and happiness. But Maël still wonders, was it love or was it something else.

And so the puppetry began.

Through the years as his partner and lover he began to climb in the ranks of the coven. He was respected throughout the vampire community and many weren't even aware he was still a fledgling. He had made it, he no longer was a weakling. He was no longer alone and his life was a vivid celebration of un-life.

Dear notebook,

How I love money, how I love being a vampire, how I love power but most of all how I love my Aurelian. He is the shining sun in this everlasting light. I never long for the sun anymore, I never long for anything anymore, all is at my fingertips and so I devote my time to the piano and hunting mostly. Aurelian loves it if I play piano he buys me scores all the time, he says if I would be mortal I would already be a famous composer. But I believe it is simple flattery. How I love my life, how I have come to love happiness

Maël

Sometimes we wish a story ends before it actually ends. I would like to believe that Maël is still happy and merciful with his partner. He loved his lover as well as the cruelty of being a vampire. It would've tied up all strings neatly in a bow, but this story isn't a bow it is a complicated knot no one intended to make. This story doesn't end in romantic crimson, it ends in the black of blood.

Dear notebook,

I do not know whether I am paranoid but I feel as if he is growing distant. He forgot our ten year anniversary, and I wouldn't make a fuss about it if he hadn't declined going to the opera with me for it today. He said he was busy, he no longer hunts with the coven. He hunts on his own every other night, he says it is to train me how to control them but we both know I am already perfectly capable of that. I feel like he is bored of me, he hardly talks to me and if he listens he does not respond. He doesn't look at me with the same spark in his eyes or chuckles at my unfunny jokes. I am afraid I am worrying too much but what if I am not?

Maël

And so the next time he went to hunt on his own he followed him through the streets. It was relatively easy, as if Aurelian wanted to be discovered. He opened up an apartment and as Maël concentrated he heard the conversation. "How was your day?" A young voice asks. "Maël is becoming more suspicious and frustrated with me." "We can run away darling." "Oh little blackbird....It is not that simple." He felt absolute fury in him as his loving nickname was misused for a simple human. And he could not contain his rage, he tore down the door and walked arrogantly towards the bed. A young boy who looked like himself but less beautiful was lying beside him "Merle!? I can explain." "I do not need one!" he said as he grabbed the boys throat when he suddenly saw his sharp teeth. The former duke hesitated. "You sired him?" I never knew you could hear a heart break but I am positive at that moment the sound was clearer than his voice. "I intended to tell you my love! I really did." He turned around. "Who am I to you Aurelian?" he asked the other vampire sputtered and did not respond. "JUST TELL ME! BREAK MY HEART!" "I LOVE YOU, YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND" "I am taking him to the coven, you broke a vampire law!" Maël said. "Merle please... he is all I have." "HE is what I am supposed to be to you!" The heartbroken vampire said with tears in his eyes as he grabbed the new fledgling by his collar and disappears into the night.

Dear notebook,

I might sound like a lovesick little girl right now but that is how I feel. My heart is in shambles as the illegitimate is lying next to us in our bedroom. The bed where I have loved and worshiped my, I repeat MY Aurelian for years and thought I would for years to come. I have locked my coffin and he has been knocking on it the whole day. I feel like I am going mad, I believe I am. Reason is the only thing stopping me from murdering everything and everyone he loves and has ever loved. There is this rage I have not felt since it has been dealt to me back in the claustrophobic coffin. If I may ask god a simply question, why can't I have anything good? Will I forever be a heartbroken weakling of a vampire? Cowardly hiding in his coffin? I am nothing but a smokescreen of arrogance, still the broken duke's son disgraced through a revolution. Everything I have ever had in my life was fleeting, when will it finally be me? Me who is worthy, me who is chosen, me, who is first, not second not last, first. I loved my Aurelian, more than I wanted to, more than he loved me. I still love him with an anger even now, an every consuming anger. I need to be the one who is claimed the victor for once in my life. If not, who am I?

Maël

The next night Maël stood up from his coffin as if nothing happened. Or at least you could say so, he ignored Aurelian as he stood up, who was begging on his knees for silence and mercy from his partner. An ancient begging for mercy from a fledgling. Instead of his usual white or dandy clothes he only wore black trousers and a loose fitting black blouse. He liked the theatrics of showing blood of his victims on his clothes, but these, these were designed to conceal black blood he knew he was going to spill tonight. His eyes weren't their astounding green, they were white as snow, surrounded by the dark outline he always has and they are full of fury. Aurelian begged for mercy as he tried to talk sense into him. "Spare the child, spare the fledgling" But those words hurt the young vampire even more and made him more determined to make and end to it.

He grabbed the boy by his collar, dragged him into the hallway and threw him down the stairs into the main hall. The vampires looked perplexed at the boy. "The hunt is not going to be taking place tonight. Tonight, you are all confined to our comfortably large palace here. Because our well respected Caïd has broken a vampire law. He has sired a vampire without the knowledge of his partner." Vampires gasp and start to talk amongst themselves. He floats down and looks at the coven, "we will sort it out, there is no doubt about it. I just thought you should be informed." He smiled and walked back up the stairs.

"You need to kill him." Maël says. "Merle please have some compassion for the boy." He clenched his jaw and looked down on the short man that he had loved for years, while he is towering above it. "Now it is Merle suddenly, tell me do you call anyone blackbird? Or is it since I came into your life?" "Darling I..." "Do not darling me you liar.... Kill the boy. I shall forgive you." All Aurelian does is shake his head and Maël sighs in defeat. "Tell me why didn't you say it before? Told me you'd be bored of me in a few years. No you had to break the sacred vampire law. Why did you have to break my heart?" "Because he loves me more than he loved you!" The boy screams. Maël immediately pins him against the wall and suffocates him only to be tackled by Aurelian. Maël does not lose his composure "He is an illegitimate, are you really going to protect him?" He asks with hatred seeping through. "Matter of fact I will Merle...." Maël chuckles and his eyes turn from anger to predator, he is now nothing but a wild beast. "I cannot kill him but I am allowed to kill you" "I would like to see you try, You didn't really think that a fledgling, a weakling like yourself could be enough to satisfy me Mael? Did you really fool yourself like that?" The rage consumes his heart as he lunges towards his lover without hesitation.

We all have learned a lesson already, do not call a weakling weak.
But there was nothing weak about Maël anymore.

"YOU CALLED US SACRED!" he screams as he throws his once beloved through a mirror and a wall, the ancient vampire is shocked by the raw strength of the youngling. The determination as he beats his face and only receives a few scratches and bites as the other fledgling tries to stop the fight. "You claimed to love me." He cries as he hits the head from the vampire into the marble of the room again and again. "Have I not been the one who you had been praying for? You told me you liar!" He says while forcing his knee on his chest breaking his sternum. He leans in and whisperers to the injured vampire. "What is time to us vampires you used to say? Ten years is a second for your six hundred year old life. It is a drop of water on the scolding plate that has been your death. And I have already bored you? How boring must I be? Discovered that I am too young for me? Too broken? Too weak? I will show you weak, I will show you young, I will show you broken, I will show you your god damned betrayal. NOW FIGHT BACK YOU WEAKLING!"

And the ancient did as they broke ancient painting and historic statues, but still every time the young raging vampire came on top, the weak, measly, thin, teenager. Beating a being that should be regarded with respect. Simply beating him or throwing him through walls, carving his name in his chest or snapping his neck. The young vampire had nothing more than a few scratches and a few burns on his leg from the attempted pyrokinesis.

Limping through the white marble halls was the tall vampire, devoid of emotions, his bloody fingers hooked through the mouth of his beloved Aurelian leaving a trail of black blood behind. "I have tried to be good, I have tried to be perfect. We were perfect." He says out of breath. "I thought I was your equal, finally an equal. You were the hope I had been waiting for all those times." He says as he drags the muscular vampire up the marble stairs to the biggest balcony. "Only for it to be revealed a farce....I had waited in vain for all that time...."

He holds the vampire above the height of the balcony. Piercing through his jaw and tongue with his nails. Somehow he seemed to be crying in his rage, but he sounded more powerful than ever. "You were the one thing I had, the one thing I had confidence in, You were my boat in the vast ocean. I love you so sickly much, I hate you for it. I hate the way you have ingrained your soul into mine. I hate the way that I think like you, I hate the way I am you. You knew I deserved better and you have made me into the perfect monster you have designed me to be. And you are afraid to suffer the consequences!" He chuckles and picks up a shard of glass from the wide windows. "Now goddamn fly....powerful ancient." He says as the shard quickly passes through the neck of a six hundred year old being, immediately ending its existence.

The coven begged Maël become the leader but the night after the fight he had vanished. Leaving no trace but a diary with a note. "For the curious ones." Maël had disappeared.

This story is finished. Or at least for the weakling it is. The weakling might have been weak, but deep down he was kind. But when you gain you must lose something too. And how he gained, drinking blood for a defeated acient.

The train rides through the fields of America when a young man enters the carriage. His walk is rather alluring and catches the eye of a writer. The way his shoulders arrogantly swing and his feet step in front of each other. His loose hair unconventionally long, hinting at his European origin. He sits down and looks with a smile at the writer, "A cigarette?" He asks. The young man declines, studying the face with it's bright green eyes and completely devoid of emotion, or maybe there is some desire in there. The creature looks into the sun and it's eyes appear white. "The sun is beautiful today is it not?" "Certainly." "I haven't seen her in a long time." The French accent is mixed with a thick and nice British one. "What is your name?" The man smiles "Merle." "Blackbird." The writer echoes. "Where to?" The writer asks. "New orleans, to meet the infamous Comte de st. Germain." "Sorry to disappoint you. He has been dead for ages." The man smiled knowingly, "As have I."