a war is waged between two brothers & the first vampires and lycans are created in separate armies , leading to the fall of civilizations. 4 original vampires and 4 original lycans survived, dispersing to form the first packs & covens throughout the world. the lycan-vampire war begins in the name of a blood feud ; no clear victors.
⋆ ˚｡ * : 𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐗. 𝟓𝟎𝟎 - 𝟕𝟎𝟎 𝐀𝐃
aleksander corvinus is born to an original vampire in what is now known as modern-day budapest, hungary ; seo-yun taejo & jae-sung taejo are born to an original vampire in what is now known as modern-day seoul, korea. the lycan-vampire war rages on.
⋆ ˚｡ * : 𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐗. 𝟏𝟎𝟎𝟎 - 𝟏𝟏𝟎𝟎 𝐀𝐃
astor mayfair is turned after a vicious vampire attack ; he is taken by amelia to join her coven where he is made into a death dealer & cleaner , a personal favorite to the queen. lazarus corvinus is born to aleksander corvinus and his wife , ankha corvinus. aera choi is born as the daughter of a human in the taejo royal court.
⋆ ˚｡ * : 𝟏𝟎𝟗𝟐 𝐀𝐃
seo-yun taejo falls in love with aera choi , the human girl who was meant to be a concubine to his uncle. as a means of rescuing her , he offers to make her into a vampire if she were to become his wife. aera agrees , but upon transformation is driven half-mad by the sheer power from the blood of an original lineage. she retaliates and tears out seo-yuns' throat. believing she has killed him, aera flees and begins her nearly one thousand year rampage as a cannibal vampire; seo-yun survives and begins his hunt for the woman who attempted to murder him.
⋆ ˚｡ * : 𝟏𝟐𝟓𝟎 𝐀𝐃
lycans take control over regions that were once considered vampire-majority ; in the skirmishes , 2 of the 4 original lycans are slaughtered , but akira kitamura , the most vicious of the two surviving originals , establishes a stronghold throughout europe and asia where vampires are exterminated with impunity. vampire covens, namely amelia's coven & viktor's coven are forced into hiding and retreat. brynjar schwab & kelechi okoye are born into akira's pack during this time.
⋆ ˚｡ * : 𝟏𝟑𝟒𝟗 𝐀𝐃
prince liudolf of the duchy of swabia & the firstborn heir to the holy roman empire is born alongside his twin brother ; he is unfortunately born sickly and is sheltered from much of outside life. the holy roman empire establishes itself as one of the strongest civilizations in europe, garnering the interest of both amelia and aleksander corvinus, now deemed one of the strongest death dealers & a potential future king. akira kitamura begins to scheme of ways to prevent either coven from gaining access to a potential stronghold for shelter and numbers.
⋆ ˚｡ * : 𝟏𝟑𝟕𝟎 𝐀𝐃
astor mayfair makes first contact with prince liudolf under amelia's orders to investigate the coven , knowing that aleksander hopes to seize the royal family in hopes of strenghtening the budapest coven ; astor mayfair concludes that prince liudolf is very sick and on the verge of death ; he feeds prince liudolf his blood as he is prevented from turning the prince in the moment. prince liudolf is now tainted.
⋆ ˚｡ * : 𝟏𝟑𝟕𝟐 𝐀𝐃
akira kitamura has caught wind of amelia's meddling and sends his prized leecher & younger brother , brynjar schwab to investigate while planning to assassinate the royal family to prevent either vampire coven from seizing them; brynjar schwab reports that the prince has already made contact with vampires as he smells tainted. akira expedites his plan to assassinate the royal family in one year.
⋆ ˚｡ * : 𝟏𝟑𝟕𝟑 𝐀𝐃
akira kitamura stages his assassination of the royal family ; he successfulyl raids the castle alongside his pack, murdering the emperor, empress, and royal court. brynjar schwab , having fallen in love with the prince , saves him from being killed , himself & allows him to escape the wreckage alongside his twin. however , aleksander corvinus and his ranks of death dealers suspected lycan interference & waited for the raid to conclude. soon after the raid was finished , aleksander investigates to discover that the princes were both still somehow alive; deciding that he could now take them both and create death dealers loyal to him alone via turning them prior to establishing his own cousin , aleksander corvinus turns liudolf & lutwick of swabia. they are now dubbed zaiden & zacharie hendricks and taken to join the covens where they are indoctrinated into becoming death dealers. aleksander places a memory block on the prince to prevent him from remembering that a lycan was responsible for keeping him safe, replacing it with a manufactured memory that it was aleksander who had rescued him. shortly after , astor mayfair is sent on amelia's orders to investigate; he and liudolf, now zaiden are reunited. zaiden had fallen in love with aleksander's cousin, damien corvinus who he had a short love affair with before damien is killed in a supposed lycan raid. soon after , zaiden. & astor begin their romantic relationship.
⋆ ˚｡ * : 𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐗 𝟏𝟑𝟖𝟎-𝟏𝟑𝟗𝟎 𝐀𝐃
on amelia's orders, astor mayfair is tasked with hunting akira kitamura down; he succeeds in finding the original lycan and a battle ensues. astor mayfair is beleived to have slain akira kitamura in a blood ordeal , but astor is far too hurt to bring back a memento of his victory. he returns to amelia with news that akira is now dead, a cause for celebration. akira kitamura survives his altercation with astor mayfair and enters hibernation, allowing others to believe that he is deceased. his pack scatters. the downfall of the lycans begins.
I’m going to keep challenging myself to try new kinds of art. Not only is it going to get me out of my comfort zone but it is also going to make me a better artist.
A/N: I’ve wanted to share this for a while, I’ve been working on it for ages. I hope you enjoy. I was actually really encouraged to post this and start writing more after @the-solar-surfer_surfer drew the main character and my OC, so thank you! FEEDBACK IS ENCOURAGED
It was musty.
Most attics typically were but this one definitely won the “#1 musty, dusty, gross, hack your lungs out from coughing because you can’t breath without dirt going down your throat” award. Unfortunately, it was for a school extra-credit assignment in a class I had been failing since third grade.
I was pretty sure I had found 3 spiders, 20 dead flies, one old moth bit wedding dress, and a mouse trap that explained the current stench in the cramped room. But of course there was no box of photos. The supposed photos were of my long dead family members for my doomed assignment in history.
“Get to know your family, Amy." Mr. Gilbert said.
“You’ll learn so much," he said.
The only thing I was learning was that grandmothers don’t always keep tidy houses. Sure the downstairs had floral wallpaper and embroidered pillows with inspirational quotes, but it was like all the dust had hibernated from downstairs to the attic… which didn’t help my allergies.
1 hour and a hundred sneezes later, I was down the ladder sitting on the stiff couch surrounded by said pillows with one, musty, dusty cardboard box full of photo albums and something that would rattle every time you took a step.
My grandmother sat next to me, her wrinkled frail hands clasped in her lap.
Unlike her attic, my grandmother was the stereotypical, rosey cheek, wrinkles as deep as the grand canyon grandmother. Her pale skin stretched across her face and she was quite short, with a slight curve to her back so she waddled around like the hunchback of Notre Dame. She had tight grey ringlets that, unlike the other seniors of Yachats, Oregon, she refused to dye purple or blonde. Her nails were always a gut wrenching “Rose Blush” red and the only thing in her wardrobe was polyester pastel dresses in every shade of pink and yellow.
“I never realized the attic actually contained stuff," I said as I pulled apart the criss-crossed cardboard flaps.
“Where do you think we put the rest of your crap when you moved in?” a voice said from the kitchen and I immediately placed it with my year older cousin, Patrick.
“Well sorry I never thought of climbing through a bunch of cobwebs in my freetime," I replied sarcastically and rolled my eyes. He fully appeared from around the corner of the kitchen, a half-eaten banana in his hand.
My cousin was like the brother I never had nor had I ever wanted. He had short, blonde, curly hair that took 3 different brands of combs to tame. He was much taller than my grandmother and I, and acted as if everything was made of glass. “The gentle giant." seemed appropriate. He was currently wearing his black button up shirt for his catering job and his favorite pair of hotdog boxers.
“Well maybe if you didn’t spend so much time in your roo-” he started.
“Hush now, I’m learning," I interrupted and returned back to the box. I heard him move behind me and lean over my shoulder.
“You know all that stuff Mr. Gilbert says is crap so the board doesn’t get suspicious and find the bottle of Jack in his classroom," he whispered low enough that my grandmother wouldn’t hear. I smirked and waved him away. He chuckled, took another bite and went back to the kitchen.
Back in the box, there were two photo albums and polaroid pictures crammed around in the empty space. My grandmother's face lit up at the sight of the pictures and fondly stroked each one like it was a living thing.
I picked up a picture of a small boy sitting in a pile of snow. He was wearing a red fleece hat and a puffy blue snow jacket. He was squinting into the camera, his cheeks red from the cold.
“That there is Patrick when he was about 5. Boy did he love that hat," my grandmother smiled, looking over my shoulder to see the photo.
“I heard my name," Patrick said and reappeared from the kitchen, the banana gone.
I held up the picture and looked over my shoulder and said, “Awe, Patrick remember when you were cute? What happened?”
He glared at me and snatched the picture from me. He studied his 5 year old self. He cocked his head then said, “What are you talking about? I’m still extremely handsome."
“Maybe if you wish really hard it will come true. Or at least you will know how to dress," I mumbled that last bit as I snatched the picture away. He looked down at his shirt and hot dog boxers, before narrowing his eyes at me.
“Shut up. I have to leave at 3:30. I’ve got time," he frowned and walked up-stairs.
Patrick and I always bickered. It drove my grandmother insane but at the end of the day he was the one helping with my homework because he had already gone through all the classes or trying to slip me a test from last year. I never accepted of course… okay once.
My grandmother and I sorted through pictures for nearly an hour. We chatted about baby pictures and prom photos.
“And this is of your mother," My grandmother said, turning the page in one of the photo albums. I had moved closer to her and now looking at the picture, I felt too close.
My breath hitched in my throat as I saw my mother in her prom dress. I heard Patrick freeze on the bottom of the stairs. The entire room went silent and I couldn’t take my eyes off my mother.
“I’m sorry darling," My grandmother said, trying to flip the page.
“No, no. It’s okay. This is the kind of stuff Mr. Gilbert wants me to know about. He wants a report on the entire family, including mom."
The truth was I didn’t want to know more about my mom. I already knew everything. She had never had a lot of money, she worked two jobs and was still home every night to make me mac & cheese. She was kind and gentle, if she had the chance she took me to every county fair. Her porcelain face was worn from no sleep all the time and her hair had been cut short because she never had anytime to brush it. And she had died 5 years ago from a hit and run.
I had been living with my grandmother for about 6 years. I say 6 because my mother and I had moved in 7 months before the accident. Afterwards my grandmother legally adopted me. At the court the issue of my father came up, which I wish to no longer speak about for the remainder of this story. The courts offer about my father was turned down and I had been with my grandmother since.
Patrick was here because his parents had kicked him out when they found out he was dating a boy. The boy then broke it off, but my aunt and uncle refused to let him back in the house. He had been here since he was 12 which meant he had been here 4 years and counting. Honestly, my grandmother had already disowned her daughter and the anger only strengthened when Patrick was kicked out of the house.
But it was nice here. Patrick and I went to the same high-school so I always had someone to sit by on the bus. He was like and older brother to me. My grandmother was soft spoken and continued to take pity on us even after Patrick had broken nearly every window in the house and I had brought the police to the house… twice.
Innocent shoplifting. Okay I was 13 and it was a pair of sunglasses and some chapstick.
Still, we had 3 meals everyday and tea before bed. It was one of the many odd things my grandmother required us to do after dinner. It supposedly cleansed the soul and we were shunned if we missed it.
“Your mom was a good woman, more a mom to me than that other woman," Patrick said and fake shuddered. “Alright, I’m going. I should be back by dinner."
“Bye darling," My grandmother said as he leaned down and kissed her cheek. He patted me on the shoulder before suddenly remembering something and running back up the stairs.
I moved back to the box and moved a few rolls of film out of the way, revealing the source of the rattling noise.
It was a brown wood box, the size of a generous jewelry box. As I removed it from the cardboard box and set on my lap, I heard my grandmother go still. I paid no attention and opened the box. Inside was a strange assortment of items.
There was a small glass case with a white butterfly pinned to a piece of cardboard, a broken ballerina that could have fit in a music box, a locket with a clip of black hair, a glass or crystal orb, and you guessed it- more dust.
“What is this a time capsule? You know you’re supposed to bury these right?” I joked and dug through a few things. I pulled the crystal orb out of the box and examined it in the light coming from the window. It distorted everything on the other side, like you were looking into fun house mirror. It was about the size baseball and it cas cold, clear, and heavy.
“Not exactly," My grandmother and I looked to her, expecting a sad smile and wise story. Oddly enough, her face was grim and serious.
Patrick appeared behind her, staring at the orb in my hands. He had only barely put on his backpack and it dangled on his shoulder. I glanced back and forth, between my two very eerie relatives before quickly putting the ball back in the case and slamming it shut.
“I’m guessing it’s not a good memory?” I said and they seemed to come out of a trance, their eyes snapping up to me. “Assuming it is a memory box," I continued.
“Of course it’s a memory box dear, what else would it be?” My grandmother said and Patrick’s grip tightened on his brack pack strap. He looked angry, but not at me.
“Because if it's something else…” I trailed off and glanced back to the box, slightly opening it.
“Don’t worry about it. It’s just a glass ball, an over-sized marble," Patrick said angrily. He was staring at the back of my grandmothers curly gray head. He seemed to be more focused on the galls orb than anything else in the box, he was clarifying that the ball was nothing even though I hadn’t specified anything.
I put my arms up in defense and set the box on the floor. I looked away but from the corner of my eye I could see Patrick still glaring at my grandmother. He has never looked at her this way, it was considered impolite and he was always kind to her.
“Whatever I have to go," Patrick said, and quickly left the living room. The door slammed with such a terrifyingly angry force that multiple hanging pictures rattled from their places on the walls.
I didn’t bring the small memory box back up. Not when I sealed it back in it’s cardboard tomb. Not even when it was 5 minutes to tea and Patrick still wasn’t home even though he got off of work three hours ago. My grandmother and I sat on the couch, she already adorned her blue bathrobe and I was wearing my Harvard sweatshirt.
“Was it about his family?” I asked finally, breaking the obnoxiously thick silence. Setting the steaming cup of orange and cinnamon tea on the coffee table. “Like a family heirloom or something?”
“Something like that. Patrick is very sensitive. You having nothing to worry about Amethyst," My grandmother replied.
I suppose this is the moment when I should mention my full name. Amethyst Cecilia Preston was not the name I wanted. Even though I have a feeling my mother gave it to me as a very deep meaningful soulful label, I also had a feeling it was a joke that she was playing even from beyond the grave. It sounded like some 50s pin-up girl that had only signed up for the posters because Victoria’s Secret hadn’t been founded yet.
As soon as those words left my grandmother's mouth, the term “speak of the devil and he shall appear." became very useful.
Patrick burst through the door, once again slamming the door and rattling the pictures on the walls. He quickly ran to the kitchen, poured himself a cup, and sat down across from us in the over stuffed floral pattern chair, his coat still on. My grandmother and I were still so shocked about his dramatic entrance that it took awhile for her to say something.
“You’re late for tea," My grandmother mumbled and took a sip of tea, not making eye contact with him.
“Right sorry, Annaleise showed up late. You know how she is," he chuckled, mimicking my grandmother and casually sipping the tea as if his tantrum hadn’t happened before.
“3 hours late," I mumbled into my glass and Patrick shot me a glare.
It fell into an awkward silence which usually didn’t happen. Usually it was Patrick not shutting up about some boy from school or my grandmother asking if I had found a guy yet in which case the answer was always no. I wasn’t used to a guardian encouraging me to date.
“Come now Amy, there is always a guy for every socially awkward, friendless 15 year old," Patrick has said one night.
He wasn’t saying anything now.
“Well," I suddenly exclaimed causing my grandmother to jump. “I am going to go to bed, there is only so much awkward family time that I can take."
My grandmother sat down her cup and looked up at me with a look that I couldn’t quite describe before saying, “Oh alright then, goodnight dear."
“Goodnight Amy," Patrick said and gave me the fakest, cheesiest, “I’m-actually-a-secret-murderer” smile that I have ever seen- and I have known him for most of my life. I looked back at him and crinkled my nose (he was giving me the shivers).
I slowly walked backwards up the stairs, Patrick's maniac eyes following me the entire time until my door clicked shut. I turned around, taking in the darkened room before sitting on my bed.
Most 15 year old girls have pretty much figured out what they like and have stuck with it. Decorating their rooms with boy bands and filling their closest with ungodly clothes that would make Lady Gaga weep. Unlike the other girls, my room was littered with Van Gogh posters and journals that I never actually wrote in. My duvet didn’t match my curtains or pillows causing my grandmother to go crazy. Other than that, it was pretty normal. I had a closet, a bookshelf, a bed, and a window. Basic human habitat.
I was about to actually consider going to sleep when I heard bickering from downstairs. I kneeled down and put my ear to the vent that fortunately lead into the living room like in all the spy movies that just happened to have vent that lead directly to where you needed to go.
“...was gone! We can’t have that here!” Obviously Patrick.
“Do you know how difficult, not just physically but mentally, it is to get rid of an ampoule!? It’s not that simple. That was her entire life Patrick. Even Barney had trouble getting rid of his wife's!” Now it was my grandmothers turn.
I quickly made a mental note to look up what the heck an “ampoule” was.
“We can’t have a spare rolling around here, literally! It’s dangerous for everyone," Patrick said.
“Why because Amy is just going to go and take a over sized marble and-” her last few words were cut off by the tea kettle whistling. There was shuffling and I quickly opened my door and sat at the top of the stairs hoping I could hear everything.
“I’m thinking we should tell Amy," Patrick said, slightly quieter.
“Patrick don’t you dare bring that girl into this, like you said, it’s dangerous," My grandmother said from the kitchen.
“It would be more dangerous if we didn’t tell her," he replied.
“You will not tell Amy a thing. Have you not been listening to yourself? You’re shouting at me while you want to tell her everything about… well everything!”
“You kept the ampoule here! Where she could find it and now that she has she’s not going to give it up. How many times did she ask about it while I was gone?”
“Once!”
“Her mind was probably screaming about it the entire time. grams she will not give up we have to tell her something."
“I will not tell you again Patrick Preston, you do not tell Amethyst anything about the ampoule and if you do…”
“Fine! Whatever. She’s going to find out and when she does don’t go looking to me or Barney for help."
There was a grunt, shuffling, more movement before I heard the first step creak. I quickly jumped up and ran to my room. I tried to close the door a quietly as possible, something I had learned from Patrick himself, and dove under my covers.
My door swung open, the light from the hallway bleeding into my dark room. Through my squinted eyes I could make out the outline of Patrick’s body, he was still wearing his coat. I tried to slow my breathing as he came and sat on the edge of the bed.
“Amethyst, you came up here like 7 minutes ago, there is no way you went to bed. Not without contemplating the meaning of life and that usually takes 10 minutes," he chuckled and I opened one eye. He looked down at me and smiled.
“I’m sorry if I upset you earlier," I whispered and sat up, my back against the metal bar headboard behind me.
“You sound so formal," he joked but then turned serious. “You didn’t."
I rolled my eyes and said, “Yeah because disappearing for three hours screams ‘I’m not upset’."
“Just some family past I thought was over and done with," Patrick informed me, resting his hand on my knee.
“Okay first of all, the knee thing is freaking creepy. Second, you and grandma aren’t good at whispering. And third, you gonna tell me or not?” I said, moving my knee away from him. He smiled again and I couldn’t help but smile back.
It was like his smile was infectious. He didn’t have perfect teeth, not even close. His two front teeth had a large white spot from heaven knows what and his bottom front teeth had slightly twisted behind each other. But when he smiled you knew whatever on earth he was looking at was worth smiling for.
“How much did you hear?” He asked
“Enough that I want to know more," I replied.
"Grams will kill me.”
“I heard you downstairs. You want to tell me even though grandma is against it. I, on the other hand, am all for it."
“Huh."
“Well are you gonna tell me?”
He seemed almost convinced. I was using his own words against him, another thing I had learned from one of our pointless arguments in the past. He pursed his lips, looked everywhere but my eyes, and wouldn’t stop picking at his fingernails.
“Patrick please? I bet it would look great on my history essay," I pleaded, my voice sounding way to desperate at the end.
“Well if, and I mean if, I was to tell you, you couldn’t put it in your essay. Or tell anyone," he said, sounding suddenly deadly serious.
Now this was getting mysterious.
“I swear on my life. Now spill," I said and crossed my heart with my finger, sitting up straighter to get the juicy details on our crazy family.
As those few final words left my mouth, footsteps were heard coming up the stairs. We both glanced at the door and I prayed Patrick would just hurry up and tell me. Judging from my grandmother’s tone of voice from their argument, if she found out Patrick had even agreed to tell me, he would probably be dead.
“Better yet I can show you," he said hurriedly, already getting off my bed. “Tomorrow if I can get off in time. Chances are Julia won’t show up by 4:30 like she’s scheduled for."
Good to know the only thing standing in between me and my dark family secrets was the 18 year old newbie.
“Why not just tell me?” I asked.
“Later," he hissed, kissed my forehead, then ran to the door and closed it as carefully as possible, mimicking my actions from about 2 minutes ago. The door clicked close as the side of my grandmother's face appeared around the corner. Their two voices were once again muffled but a few words slipped.
“What… in there?” my grandmother whispered.
“...night," Patrick replied.
“Don’t… her." The floor creaked implying my grandmother stepped forward.
“...swear… won’t." I could imagine Patrick putting up his arms in defense, backing away. There was three creaks, a click, six more creaks then another click- both had gone to their rooms.
I layed on my back, staring up at the slightly twirling black and white light bulbs hanging from the ceiling. I nearly considered slipping out of bed and down stairs to get my phone that I had stupidly left charging in the kitchen to look up the world “ampoule” when sleep betrayed me and I was plagued with dreams about a ginormous crystal ball hunting me down like a bad remake of Indiana Jones.
