“I drink to our ruined house
To the evil of my life
To our loneliness together.
And I drink to you —
To the lying lips that have betrayed us,
To the dead-cold eyes,
To the fact that the world is brutal and coarse
To the fact that God did not save us.”
 
— Anna Akhmatova
 
 
 
 
 
 
. . .
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
William doesn’t even have to see to know just how much the King of Vampires was enjoying this, the sheer amusement practically dripping like poisoned honey on his tongue and William couldn’t do anything but grit his teeth.
 
The darkness has rendered William blind, but he can practically see what’s happening before him. His father’s ring… the thick, silver chain Winters had gotten for it all those years ago now held in the too-pale hands of their greatest enemy, and a strange sort of resolve hardens in William’s heart, fear giving way to raw, righteous fury sparking in the back of his mind.
 
His aching limbs were ignored when he forcefully pushes himself up, stumbling a bit as his legs shook precariously beneath him when he starts to move forward in the direction of Roman’s voice.
 
He doesn’t really know what he’s going to do or what he even can do at this point anymore, but like hell he’s just going to cower and whimper in on himself and let the vampire take something from him and his family again.
 
I will kill you… he wants to say, I will kill you!
 
William thinks he makes it at least a few steps before his legs unsurprisingly decides to give up on him… but when he falls forward, surprisingly enough, he doesn’t feel the familiar slam of his body on the hard, cold ground.
 
Instead, he falls straight in the arms of another, their skin so cold and so hard to the touch that his brain automatically assumes he’s tripped and landed over a corpse or something. Because he knows, some instinct telling him that whatever it was holding him, it can’t possibly be human.
 
Roman chuckled, “Giving up so soon?”
 
He’s practically being held up by Roman, and William couldn’t quite stop himself from trembling when a very solid arm wraps around him like a snake, a soft, haunting voice too close to his ear.
 
“… how adorable.”
 
A sharp nail trails down the curve of his spine, starting from the back of his neck, and William could have sworn he felt bile rising up his throat, disgust and hysteria making him flail in the other’s ice-cold grip like a fish on a hook for a moment, but a nearly indistinguishable click made him pause, more so when he feels the familiar touch of the silver chain of his father’s ring now resting safely against his neck, tucked so close to his heart right where it belongs that William physically sagged in sheer relief.
 
“It seems,” Roman murmurs against the side of his face as a hand gently carded through William’s hair, the same way Winters would do whenever he couldn’t fall sleep, “…that you may still be of use to me.”
 
The protests bubble at William’s throat almost instantly, his mouth voluntarily opening to tell the vampire exactly what he thinks, to scream and curse that he won’t be doing anything for Roman! —but before the words could come out of his mouth, William suddenly feels something strange. Something… wrong slithering against the back of his mind.
 
It was so quick, so quiet that William didn’t pay it any attention until it was too late. And just like that, even his mind is no longer his own.
 
William was vaguely aware that Roman was still holding him in a mockery of an embrace but suddenly, his mind… no, his attention is being swayed… directed somewhere else, in an old memory he didn’t mean to think of.
 
He blinks and he thinks he’s small, so small.
 
William was a child again and he’s looking up at a woman he thinks could have been his mother (even if most of her face is blurry), he thinks he’s feeling her arms wrapping around him as she hold him close to her, and she was so warm and cozy, she smells like fresh bread and vanilla, and then he sees her lips, she was smiling down at him and… oh. Winters has their mother’s sad gaze.
 
Then, it was Winters looking at him now with that same sad look, her face battered and bruised, not even the rain could wash away the blood, all that blood as she tells him to leave, even if her eyes are pleading him to stay DON’T LEAVE M—
 
Roman’s grip on his neck tightens.
 
The memory blurs immediately.
 
…wait.
 
No…!
 
No, no, no–!
 
That was mine, William wants to say, wants to cry as he watches the memory in his own mind become blurry like it was… fading.
 
That memory is his, a memory from long since passed and no one should have been able to see that moment but him and he can only watch helplessly as Roman slowly but surely takes and takes everything away from him.
 
“Any last words?” the vampire asks.
 
He open his mouth and finds that he couldn’t say anything. Doesn’t even know if he still knows how to speak but… but there was… something…
 
There’s always something he wants to say and never does, because the one who raised him has become so good at suppressing her emotions, at hiding away the truth of her feelings, even from him that he now never knew how to properly say such things anymore because she never really means what she does and never does what she promised and never says what she means anymore. She promised that she’ll stay, that she’ll protect him…
 
…but where is she now?
 
Sharp fingers dug painfully in his throat, and he feebly feels himself trying to fight back, his own hands helplessly clawing at cold wrist even as the dripping blood makes it hard to hold on to.
 
“Will,” a familiar voice calls, “…William?”
 
His eyes shot open in surprise and instead of staring up at those awful red eyes, it was her face he’s seeing. He stares at a woman staring back at him like it was the last time she’ll ever see him.
 
And then, suddenly, he’s the one moving, but instead of getting closer to her, he’s getting further away, and he feels more than sees the lady with sad eyes gazing at him, and he finally realizes, with awful clarity, that he will never get to see her ever again.
 
He can feel some of his memories being moved into somewhere deeper in his mind, growing dimmer and blurry like they’re slipping away from him.
 
 
 
 
 
 
. . .
 
 
 
 
 
 
“I’m not going to miss you,” she was telling him on his first mission alone, her gloved hands gently wrapping the scarf around his neck, keeping the silver chain hidden, completely out of sight, “…because you and I are going to see each other again real soon. Promise me.”
 
 
 
 
 
 
. . .
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
That face is the last thing he sees before even that becomes foggy, and then, there was nothing. Absolutely nothing at all… his eyes closing shut as he finally stops fighting, because that’s someone that he no longer knows, and he has no reason to fight for someone he doesn’t know, let alone care about.
 
 
 
 
 
 
. . .
 
 
 
 
 
 
“…promise,” he lied.