Trapped. Trapped. Trapped.
The word pounds against his skull, his heart seizing with dread because he knows, he knows even before he turns, exactly what sight awaits him. Of course. Of course he had thought of that, had planned ahead, had taken every precaution to ensure his prey could not escape…every bit as graceful and cunning in the practice of killing as he was in the art of conversation. Alfred’s hands fall limp upon on the handle of the door. His shoulders slump. His quiet panting slows, and steadies, and falls quiet. And then he turns.
In the fading glow of the fire, propped beneath his captor’s bloodstained fingers and peeking out from the pocket of his jacket, lies the key to his escape. Tiny, rusted little thing that it is, and yet his knees quake at the sight of it, because that had been his last hope…
And now, he can only beg.
“…P-P-Please.” His voice cracks like a child’s, choked with terror as the Erbgraf staggers and sways, a corpse brought to life, his laughter piercing the air and a trickle of blood, Alfred’s blood, leaking from the corner of his lips. “P-Please, listen, I - please, let me go. Y-You’ve had your fill now, haven’t you? And - and if not -”
“- Then you can have…m-more - you can have as much as you like, I won’t f-fight, I won’t struggle, and I won’t tell a soul afterwards, only - please, please, please just let me go free. Let me live. I’ll do anything - anything, just don’t…k-kill me - please, I don’t want to die, I don’t want to d -!”
- His voice breaks, splitting in two and crying out as a fresh bolt of fire pulses through his body. He stumbles back against the door, teeth clenched and hands clutching at the sticky crimson wound upon his neck, feeling the now-familiar throb of something thick and white-hot pumping through his veins, something that burns and seethes like boiling poison, his flesh screaming in protest, fighting it, rejecting it -
“- S-Stop, please make it stop!” he moans, but the poison only licks its way higher, creeping over the lip of his jaw and spilling into his mouth. It swells beneath his gums, scorches like the blade of a hot knife, scrapes at his teeth - and then pricks -
Herbert did not expect that the change would be so apparently antagonizing. Suddenly, unexpectedly, some corner of Herbert’s heart cracks to see Alfred in such a pitiful state, helpless in the thrall of the changes which seize his body. It does pain him to see Alfred absolutely defenseless and so powerless, no doubt confused, and incapable of helping himself. Some part of Herbert does wish to do nothing more than take Alfred into his arms, smooth back his hair, and reassure him that it will be over quite soon. But, it is in Alfred’s own best interest that Herbert leaves him to suffer.
This is the first time that Herbert has changed any human, but he has heard tales from others who have chosen humans. Herbert has heard tell, mere whispers, that when the chosen one’s heart beats fast and their blood courses through their veins like hellfire, the changes come quicker. The soon-to-be immortal may suffer, but their suffering would be far shorter and the pain would be over far sooner.
At least, Herbert hoped that his information was correct.
So he only stands there, silently watching, his heart seizing with each and every one of Alfred’s deep, quick gasps.
Then Alfred’s mouth opens in a fresh cry of pain and Herbert spots a flash a long, white fang.
It’s nearly complete. Alfred is nearly free. And Herbert has no reason to hold himself back for a moment longer.
❝It will stop, very soon.❞
He slowly approaches Alfred on silent footsteps, the senses the fresh blood had dulled nearly restored. He still does still sway, but only just so, pausing every so often to rebalance himself.
❝Everything has its price. Nothing is given for naught, and the greatest gift in this world is no exception. You’ve paid with your mortality, with your innocence. But in return? In return you’ve been given power beyond imagination, the freedom to seize your life and live it without any inhibitions or barriers.❞
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