Her eyes showed nothing but anger, which was not easy to control. She wished to clench her claw and rip the letter into pieces, erase it from existence.

Letters never brought good news, not since she suffered her first and last defeat as a human. She hated to see any kind of written message, because they reminded her of the last one Bastian sent her. She still had it, locked shut inside a drawer in her chambers.

Ever since she discovered the truth, they made her feel different, her rage exchanged by self-directed pity. She still loathed letters, for they always informed of dreadful realities now. Her sire would always convey his will through missives, distant but irrefutable. She would have to read the appeals of her people, consider the losses they mourned, crimes they endured, and their insatiable needs.

Unwanted visits…

Nerys let out a long snarled sigh, folding carefully the letter, done reading it. She had trailed every single word at least ten times, and it always managed to sound worse. There was such a prideful tone to the note, and it stated facts she could not deny. A neighbouring lord was going to pay a diplomatic visit.

She never enjoyed such stays in her domain, but she could not refuse them. Although she had implemented her own laws and mandates in her land, all clans shared a code, which enforced protocol and formalities between them.

Having to welcome other lords into her realm was something dreadful, for they were arrogant and conceited towards her subjects, and she could barely do anything about it.

She stood by the gates, glaring at the horizon with her arms crossed, already able to imagine that horrid clan setting foot on the distant hills. Any faction of vampires would worry her, but this one bothered her even more. She was so engrossed in her thoughts and uncertainties… that she did not hear the steps behind her. A yelp escaped her when a hand snatched the letter from her claw, fast.

“What has gotten you worried now, Nerys?”

“Bastian?! Give that back!”

He just snorted, leaning away as she tried to retrieve the letter. She failed miserably even if she was taller and stronger, thanks to the fact that he kept putting himself between her claws and the note. He knew she could not bring herself to put a nail on him, and he used that notion strategically.

Nerys soon sighed and desisted, because Bastian let the document unfold with a small whip of hand, to then read it with a lean of head and raise of eyebrow.

“Hmm, another clan?” He looked back at her, curious, but also worried. “Is this what’s making you glower like it’s the end of the world? Lochan is insane, I know, but…”

He now never doubted to roam near her and pry into her matters, always trying to aid or be supportive. She did not like it, however, finding his concern absurd and out of measure. Still, this last month had been quite calm and placid, because the tension between them was fading slowly. She had finally resigned and had kept the hunger sated, and in turn, he had not insisted and commented on it once. They reached a non-verbal agreement.

He knew she had no obscure vampiric intents, so he did not feel any guilt as he read the letter. While roaming, he had been able to see her in her courtroom and all around, commanding and directing her subjects. She had stopped trying to avoid him, even if some slight apprehension was still there.

Their situation was truly strange, and sometimes they struggled to converse about its implications, but the effort was there. She had been granting him more freedom every day, without ever addressing the fact he was still technically a prisoner of war. He never dared bring that fact up, not because he feared to, but because he knew she was trying to make things better slowly. She was a vampiric ruler, yet she was treating a rebel like him like no other human. It did not take much time for her to clear his name in her court, but it could not be denied that he had been an insurgent.

He wanted to understand as much as possible what chained her, all the obligations her new kin set upon her. Due to that wish, he laid out the letter in his hand calmly, for her to retrieve. Her green eyes hinted trust when she took it back, so he listened intently as she tried to explain her worries.

“It’s not Lochan’s clan…” She huffed, looking away as she hid the letter in a pocket. “His spawns are maddening and insufferable, yet they can’t compare to the ones that are coming.”

Bastian crossed his arms, shaking his head.

“What can be worse than that mindless winged imp?”

Nerys looked down at him, quite sternly, almost scolding.

“Bastian, I hope that my generosity has not made you forget the horrors we vampires can bring forth.”

He began to frown slowly, all traces of jest gone from his tone.

“No, I could never forget. You know I would have acted against your clan, taken advantage of the privileges I’ve been allowed, if I did not consider your ways tolerable. You can’t be compared to-“

“Precisely, my clan is unlike others. This one is worthy of your hate, Bastian, and mine. I did not call for their arrival, and I do not have close ties with them.” She pointed a claw at him, saying nothing but truth. “They are the kind of vampires that incite the horrible tales humans share, the ones that would keep you awake at night. Their ways and acts are vile, much like the ones you always pondered in that lonely tent of yours, prompting you to keep a torch lighted at all times…”

Nerys leaned against a wall, to then glare at the distance with a thoughtful expression. Meanwhile, Bastian snarled, not liking his past paranoia to be called out.

“The torch was not always alight… only at night. It’s a perfectly reasonable thing to do when beasts roam.”

She ignored his correction, for she found his distrust of the dark logical. What she said was not intended as a taunt for his fears, but as a warning and thoughtful reminder. He knew that, so he let the matter go and focused on her worry and what caused it. She did not look at him when he stood at her side, to contemplate the distant fields like she did, both pondering.

“If they are that horrid and detestable, can’t you proclaim their banishment from your land?”

“I could, yes.” She laughed bitterly, growling at nothing. “I would get rid of them, but in turn attain the anger and hate of all the other clans. That lord is a resourceful and manipulative bastard, who has many treaties with others like him. To deny hospitality to another warlord is to bring shame upon oneself. It is a dishonourable act, a hint of weakness. All clans hate each other, but they hide it well. Reveal your enmity towards another sire and you get a good mess in your claws.”

“I think it is a mess as it is, by how you are describing it.”

“It’s a lose-lose situation, yes. I have seen this fiend before…”

That bastard had no say in her land, but he would still behave like a disgusting beast in it. He would not lay a claw over her people, not as long as she kept an eye, but accidents happened… They were common in his proximity, and usually, there was no one to tell of them but him.

Nerys shivered, remembering how that lord treated his own humans. She could not avoid but glance sideways, at Bastian, who stood by her. Her senses always revealed the beating of his heart, caring and honest. She could feel her veins pulse while near him, in a way she could control. There was no restraint in those fiends, however, only insatiable greed.

Bastian was no fiend, and much less greedy. He had never harmed her, even when he could. All he had done was aid her, in many ways. There should be hate in him, justified, yet he had forgiven her mistakes instead. He understood her faults, her nature.

He is still here…

Confined, in her castle. He had never even tried to set foot past the gates, following diligently her rules. Not once he had asked for freedom, only recently their bond clear. The horrible moments that took them to the truth were still fresh in their minds, not easy to confront, as much as they tried.

All this time, she had struggled to debate their circumstances, because she was afraid of them. But she could not keep postponing such deliberation, not now. The more time passed, the more she feared his presence, for it had a reason. She was keeping him captive, for herself.

Bastian stopped looking at the distant fields, escaping his thoughts when he felt Nerys tense, catching how her claws clenched softly. He glanced at her with an eyebrow raised, confused by the sudden intensity in her gaze, which she kept on the horizon.

“Nerys?” She did not meet his eyes, bolting away instead, wordlessly. “Where are you going?”

He did not understand why she was heading for the nearby stables, because he had fed the horses this morning; she had seen him do so. She pushed the door open and strode in, her eyes fixating on the last stall, with no emotion in her expression.

Bastian could only frown, confused, seeing Nerys walk out of the stables with his mare. Her steps towards him seemed determined but sorrowful. He took one step back when she spoke in front of him, firmly.

“You have to go.”

He stared at her, small under her imposing gaze, which made him feel lost.

“…What?”

Her fangs showed as she snarled, his bewilderment not taken kindly. He flinched when she commanded strongly, pointing sharply at the gates, her words bitter but adamant.

“I have kept you trapped in here for far too long, Bastian. This is something I should have done much sooner… You are free to go. One of my soldiers will escort you, to ensure you traverse the domains of other clans safely, until you reach disputed territory. I won’t allow any vampire to prey on you.” He trembled, because she let go of his horse to reach for her own shoulder, to take off the red banner that always hanged from it. “If you wear this…”

She untied it, and then set it down gently over his right shoulder, to let it hang over his side like a cape. He exhaled shakily, not understanding as she continued, making his heart skip a beat.

“Wearing this, no one should lay a claw on you. Perhaps loners could still dare, but all clans know to respect someone who dons a banner like this one.” She closed her eyes, struggling to be firm. “Burn it as soon as you reach your land, for you won’t need it anymore. Once home, you can forget and move on.”

There was a painful silence, in which he contemplated the banner, battling a million thoughts in his mind.

“You…” He raised his gaze, shaking his head with a troubled expression. “You are not keeping me trapped here.”

Nerys laughed bitterly, making him wince as she forced the reins into his hold, much like when she gave him that dagger. She was as upset as him, and she did not try to hide it in her voice.

“I am, Bastian. The walls of this castle are no different from the ones of that cell.” She stepped back and kept her distance, final. “This is not where you belong. Your place is with free men, and their cause. You should be with her…”

Bastian remained silent, debating his beliefs and convictions. Nerys was taken aback when he spoke again, because the words struck a nerve.

“I can’t go back to her, Nerys.” He snarled, startling slightly his horse as he dropped the reins strongly. “If I do, I will have to keep a dreadful secret and deceive her! All this time, you have forbidden me of writing to her, let her know you are alive! How can you expect me to go back now and not tell her? I would give in and betray your plea, as soon as I saw a single tear of hers! She will ask questions, and I can’t lie to her! If I have to hide the truth and endure her sorrow, I’d rather let her believe I’m dead as well!”

Her brow and nails twitched. He did not cower when she slammed her claws on his shoulders, leaning down to glare at him face to face.

“You are not dead, Bastian! Nothing has changed for you, you are still human! You both can still share a life together! When you go back, just say half-truths! There would be no lie if you told her you were taken down and imprisoned! After such a long time, you finally have the chance to escape from the vampires that have tormented you! You are not my kin anymore, we serve different causes. Your oath is-“

“I don’t believe in those vows anymore.”

Nerys watched as Bastian laid a hand over one of her claws, his eyes showing pure sincerity. His voice grew quiet, cold.

“Please, understand, I can’t go back. The cause I fought for could one day bring your end, and I don’t want to take part in it. I don’t want to kill again, and I don’t want to see her keep on doing it.” He was not surrendering his heart and will to vampiric rule, but he could no longer hate all of them without uncertainty. “You said it best, Nerys… All is gray.”

He stood there, keeping his ground. It broke her, yet he did not falter for it. She shuddered and laid her head against the banner on his shoulder, snarling as he whispered his ultimatum.

“I won’t leave. Not if you can’t come with me.”

She could only say one thing, bitterly and mournfully.

“You are an idiot…”

“Maybe I am.”

They both stood there for a long while, not many eyes able to see them while the sun loomed high. She shivered when his arms moved away from his sides slowly, to go around her frame instead, holding her as well. The hug felt underserved, and she was partially afraid of it… but she had missed the sensation.

By the time Nerys let go, Bastian’s horse had wandered away, because neither had been holding the reins. She let out a shaky sigh when she let go of his shoulders, standing away with a troubled frown. Her eyes trailed the horizon, the distant fields and dark forests. She did not know how much time she had until those beasts would lurk her land, so she warned quietly.

“I want you to stay away from them, as much as possible, you hear me? If you won’t leave…”

She blinked, because he smirked and scoffed, his mind scheming already.

“I guess it’s time for me to become an inconsequential servant.” She turned to look at him, and indeed, there was the banner, thrown to the ground as he faked a dismayed posture. “Ah, the horrible price of inconspicuousness, subservience! It will be a shame to have to don the ugly red robes your humans wear, but I am willing to surrender my individuality in order to foster your prominence.”

He was not surprised to hear her grumble.

“You are not a servant.”

“I thought you just had granted me freedom?” He taunted her, jesting. “By denying me the choice of serving, you oppress me, and that goes against your claims of benevolence! I will not put up with your capriciousness again, Nerys.”

He walked off to lead his horse back into the stables, while she just shook her head. After a few seconds, she followed begrudgingly, halting and leaning at the doorframe with her arms crossed. She eyed him carefully but calmly, noting his faint smile as he left his mare in her stall.

“I will never understand you, Bastian.”

He shrugged and turned away from his horse, in order to face her. As he stepped closer, he grinned a little, trying to drown their worries with his relaxed attitude.

“No one can quite grasp my brilliance, actually. You were the only one who would take my ploys and schemes seriously. As a captain, I had to deal with many witless simpletons, who would mock me for choosing a crossbow instead of a bow.” He raised his hands, faking outrage. “They are not that heavy or loud, their ease of use is a clear advantage, and the name is befitting of the hunt!”

She stared at him blankly. So he tried again, slowly.

“It has cross in its name…”

That prompted her to tap a nail against the doorframe, and he could not avoid but sigh when she sliced a little cross on the wood, raising an eyebrow at it in mockery.

“Maybe if I stare at it for hours I will burst in flames.” She rolled her eyes, smirking. “The scriptures that denounce vampirism are nothing but myth. We have a small chapel and I still have to drop dead in it.”

“It’s not meant to burn, it’s poetic scorn! A taunt can be as dangerous as an arrow if aimed well!”

Nerys laughed a little, seeing Bastian tap his foot grouchily with his arms crossed. Silence soon settled in the stables, one that was not uncomfortable for either. They both just leaned there, recalling all the times in which they had conversed this lightheartedly.

She could remember how they would gather after a hard day of work in the camps, away from everyone else, by a warm fire of their own. He would try to lighten the mood by ridiculing their ill-mannered superiors, never failing to make Lyssa snicker.

Bastian frowned, glancing up at Nerys. There still was a small smile on her face, but tears were falling from her green eyes, which were looking at nothing. Her expression hinted longing, yet it was mournful.

Slow steps echoed, and a hand soon tangled gently with her sharp claw. Her nails did not make a scratch as they curled softly, with acceptance. Their eyes closed, both their hearts beating fast as she leaned to hug him.

She missed her greatly, every day and night, and she would never see her again. But she still had him by her side. He had always been loyal, caring, and selfless. When needed, he was always there, even in the worst of moments.

He had always loathed vampires, yet there was no hate in him now. She could hear his heart while she held him, wounded yet steadfast. Her own was as scarred, and cold, but now much more poised and indomitable. She would never lose control and fall prey to the hunger, not even if she felt drawn.

No one was there to see her claw rest gently on his cheek, leaning his face slowly. Her eyes fixed on his in question, sharpening, yet only showing care. None heard the small faint laugh, his gaze as inquiring, but resolute and coaxing. Neither needed words to convey their thoughts, for there was no doubt, only honest trust. One did not fear or judge, while the other let the shame and grief fade.

The human shivered as fangs neared, soon brushing against his neck. This time they lingered and didn’t sink right away, giving him time to close his eyes calmly. The vampire held him close, warmly, even if her body was cold. One heartbeat was latent and heavy, the other fast but dauntless.

That interval did not last forever. A small frown crossed his face when he finally felt the sting of the bite. He soon relaxed, however, for it barely hurt. It did not ache more than a scratch would, and a claw made sure to divert his attention with soft caresses on his back.

They stood there, holding each other as blood poured softly. One was glad to give, while the other never took too much. Both knew this was best, and the only way in which they could heal. They could share their existence, trusting.

Eventually, those fangs let go, moving away slowly. Their hold did not weaken, however, silent and heartfelt.