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whumpsday · 20 days

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Kane & Jim AU: Mermay Special

Chronological masterlist / Writing order masterlist

content: mer/vampire whumper, mer/vampire whumpee, whumper-turned-whumpee, dehydration, claustrophobia, starvation, torture, brief death wish, recovery, caretaking

have something special for mermay :) inspired by this fanart my friend lostie drew 2 years ago!!

It hadn’t rained in a week, Jim’s freshwater had run out the day before, and he was going to die.

He knew he was going to die. Kane would come back to feed, and his body wouldn’t be able to hold up anymore, and he would die. Either with Kane’s jaws clamped around him, or later, alone in the damp cold sand.

He wasn’t thirsty enough to be desperate yet, not desperate enough to drink the abundant saltwater taunting him from his prison’s little beach. He knew it would only make him die faster. It was poison.

It hardly mattered at this point. Months with no rescue likely meant no rescue at all, and this was hardly a life. Still, something cried out in him, wanting to live.

Jim scrambled against the rock as he saw that telltale fin start to poke out of the water, more and more until the vampire revealed himself in full, the head and torso of a man and the tail-end of a shark. Not that there was anywhere for Jim to use his worthless legs to run to.

“Food.” Kane slung half a seal onto the surface, raw yet unbloodied.

Jim cautiously crept forward. “I need water.”

Kane raised an eyebrow at him, then splashed him, leaving him soaked.

“Fresh water,” he pressed, pointing up to the clear sky. “Rainwater. I need it or I’ll die. Please, just take me back to the beach, any beach where there’s humans. I won’t be any use to you dead. You’re not some animal, you know this isn’t right, please!”

“Human mine,” Kane dismissed firmly.

Jim sobbed drily. “I can’t. I can’t. You’re going to kill me.”

“Eat.” Kane shoved the meat toward him, making him flinch back. “Then I eat.”

Jim looked to the sky, Kane’s hungry eyes never leaving him as he devoured the vampire’s leftovers. If it didn’t rain tomorrow, he wouldn’t make it another day.

“Human.” Kane gestured him forward as soon as he finished.

“No, no, I don’t want to!” Jim backed up to the rock again, even knowing it was useless.

Kane huffed, climbing up onto the sand. “Food,” he called him now, a warning tone to his voice, piercing red eyes growing angry.

“Stop,” Jim insisted, squeezing his eyes shut. “No!”

A clawed hand grabbed his leg, any attempt to kick him away futile. He couldn’t match a vampire’s strength on his best day, and this was not his best day.

He cried out as sharp teeth dug into flesh once again, feeling much like the seal in his stomach.

Kane whined softly, squirming against the glass.

The fishers had put him in a smaller tank again. He couldn’t be sure–though he learned more of their language every awful day, there were still gaps–but he was near-certain it was a game to them, at this point, how small of a space they could force him to live in. He didn’t need to know their language to see their smirks.

He hadn’t even meant to break the last one. He had been trying so hard this time, and he’d been asleep when it happened. Even so, the fishers left him gasping on the floor in a pile of broken glass for hours. Even the tiny tank was better than none at all. How far he’d fallen, that he could consider this lucky.

Kane wished he could go back to complaining about not having room to swim. He would do anything to go back to the first tank. This one hardly afforded him room to move, to breathe. No matter how he tried to position himself, he always ended up touching the walls, his tail bunched up uncomfortably.

The water was too salty, burning his gills with every breath. He didn’t dare complain about that again. Last time, they left him in that horrible freshwater humans love so much until he screamed and bled to the point where any other fish would die.

But he was a vampire, and there was no driftwood here.

Every time a fisher walked past, Kane tensed. Some carried cruel metal tools, meant for fish already dead, though he’d already known their sting far more than he’d like. Some carried cruel metal tools and looked at him, making him wish he had anywhere to hide.

“Comfy?” a fisher mocked, tapping the glass with the end of his fishing stick, the unavoidable vibrations reverberating wherever he touched it.

Kane shook his head, hoping the answer was acceptable.

“Good. �̴̢̛̙̃̎̀̏͌�̶͙̪̉̃̐͋̈̈́̉͝�̵̛̹̪̳̾́̏̂̏̊͊�̴̤̬͖͖̬̹̣̏�̴̧̹͓͒̋͝�̸͎̝̂̅͋�̴̧͚͍̼̠͌�̵̤̜̻̦̬̄͒̏̃ little display case, leech. �̸͖̞̩̳̒̿͐̚͝ͅ�̴̢̫̺̟̺̬̯͔̋̄�̶̧̺̯͚̳͎͉̆͆̀̉̍�̵͚͈͛̌̑̚�̷̰͝͝�̴̢̡̯̗̖̥̈́̑̄̅̃̀̎̕ feed you this week.”

He perked up at the mention of food, whining louder this time.

The fisher laughed, flicking one of those foul little ash-and-paper cylinders into his tank. “Eat it.”

It would make him sick, but far worse would come of disobeying orders. Maybe the fisher would allow him some food if he obeyed. Kane wriggled until he could position himself enough to reach the bottom of the tank, scooped it up, and swallowed it down.

Another fisher joined him, saying something he couldn’t understand and nodding at his tank before approaching.

Nothing good ever happened when he was taken from his tank.

“No, no, no!” he wailed as his head breached the surface, his salt-lined gills burning all the more against unforgiving air.

Jim didn’t go to the beach anymore.

After months stranded and years after living in fear, he never thought he’d get even ten miles near a coastline. Not even twenty. Yet here he was, getting within two, just to see the damn vampire. Just to confirm it’s him.

The scars on his arms and legs floated the vague line between hurt and not, leaving him unsure if it was in his head.

The smell of distant saltwater made him want to vomit.

Jim greeted the fishers in a daze, letting them lead him to the vampire that might be his.

And there he was.

Kane looked worse for wear. He was littered with more scars than Jim was, trapped in a tank barely wider than his body, and even his body looked near-emaciated. His wide eyes locked onto Jim with sudden, harsh terror, and he squirmed as if to try to get away.

“Why’s he… in there?” he asked dumbly.

“Gotta keep a vampire reeeal secure, you of all people know you can’t trust the fuckers. Give ‘em an inch and they’ll take a mile. Can’t move around, don’t have the energy to fight, knows it’s got hurt coming if it tries, that’s the safe way to keep ‘em,” the fisher explained.

Jim couldn’t look him in the eyes after that, so he looked at the tank instead.

“Kane?”

Kane whimpered, pressed against the back of the tank, though that only left him what looked like a couple inches away from the front of it. Jim felt claustrophobic just looking at it.

“So?” the fisher prompted.

“This is him.” Jim took a step forward, hesitantly pressing a hand to the glass. He was really here, powerless to hurt him again.

But Kane was hurt, and terrified, and trapped somewhere small and uncomfortable. There was no way he could leave him here.

“Do you think… I could take him?”

Every day, humans came to the aquarium in droves. As an unending mercy, Kane’s tank here was large, with ample places to hide. He never came out while the humans were visiting.

No one hurt him at the aquarium. He always had enough to eat at the aquarium. The workers always smiled at him when he surfaced for his meals. Not the malicious smiles of the fishers, but real ones, like they were friends. They talked to him like he was a person, and he was getting better at talking back, and they didn’t even get mad at him when he wouldn’t come out for the guests. Bellamy slipped him an extra fish and told him he deserved it for being a trooper. He didn’t know what a trooper was, but it sounded good when he said it.

Maybe he would start showing himself, one day, just to make them happy. Maybe if it ever stopped being scary.

As it stood, there was only one guest Kane would leave his hidey-hole for. Thankfully, they allowed him to come just after closing, away from the crowds.

“Hey,” Jim greeted. “Just came to, uh, check up on you. Make sure you’re still doing alright.”

Kane couldn’t speak underwater, and Jim was nowhere close to the top of the roomy tank, so he nodded. He looked at his hand, trying to remember the sign for a second, before making a ‘thumbs-up’.

“You’re okay? You’re happy? No one’s hurting you? They’re feeding you good? Helping you with medical stuff?” Jim asked.

Kane nodded again, smiling this time. He tried not to show his teeth.

Jim sat by the tank. “That’s good. I’m happy for you, man. You know how long ‘til the doc clears you to go home?”

It wouldn’t be long, now. He was gaining the weight back, his injuries had healed, and the exercises he’d been given were helping him learn to swim normally again. Soon, he would be able to survive in the ocean, just like before any of this nightmare had ever happened.

Bellamy said they could do a program together, if he wanted, where guests would come to learn about vampires and ask him questions. He said Kane didn’t have to if he didn’t want to, but winked and promised him some of his blood if he gave it a try.

No fisher could catch him again if he stayed at the aquarium. People would protect him at the aquarium.

Kane shrugged, not sure he would ever leave.

sorry all i can write are AUs lol <3 they're warming me up for the main series i prommy

taglist in reblogs!

#kane and jim au #whump #mer whumper #mer whumpee #vampire whumpee #vampire whumper #vampire whump #mer whump #whumper turned whumpee #dehydration #claustrophobia

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avvail-whumps · 3 months

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I’m just thinking about a vampire hunter who lost their arm. They replace it with a prosthetic one made out of silver. Imagining the pain when they grab a vampire, or pin them down by their neck while their skin burns under the silver and there’s nothing they can do because it hurts so much. Fingers desperately trying to find something other than the arm to grab onto to try and pry them off.

#fantasy whump #vampire whump #vampire whumpee #vampire hunter whumper #vampires #vampire hunters #whump writing #whump drabble #whump scenario #whump #whumpblr #whump community #writing #my writing #writing drabble #writing ideas #whump ideas #avvail whumps #generic whump drabbles

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blackrosesandwhump · 3 months

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Totally random idea that just popped into my head:

A human who sets up a contractual business with vampires as their bloodbag on call, able and willing (even eager) to feed them as the need arises.

Imagine a dim, fancy shop, all the windows curtained over or blacked out, and a smiling human who walks out of the shadows to greet the vampire that just showed up, starving, at their door.

#gotta write this now #whump #vampire whump #vampires #bloodbag #whump idea #whump inspiration #random idea #blood mention #human whumpee

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whump-place · 5 months

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Idk why, but I haven't seen any vampires as whumpees. Like, you can starve them all you want and they won't die?? Or chain them outside in the sun, like a cute little pet??

There are lots of possibilities.

I'm just saying

#whump prompt #whump tropes #whump writing #vampires #vampire whump #vampire whumpee #why???

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kabie-whump · 2 months

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Hi! I started following you recently and I LOVE your writing!!! May I make a request? I'd love to see your take on a yandere vampire whumper keeping a darling human whumpee in captivity. Maybe they see Whumpee as both a bloodbag and a companion/pet?

Only if you want to!!

Thanks so much! I'm sorry this took so long but I finally found time to come back to this! All hail spring break!

Content: hypnosis, ex-vampire hunter whumpee, pet/bloodbag whumpee, intimate whumper, vampire whumper, memory loss, gaslighting

⛧°｡⋆༺♱༻⋆｡°⛧

"Is there someone outside?"

Surprised, Whumper glances down at Whumpee, who blinks groggily as they wake. They usually stay out for longer after Whumper feeds on them. Maybe the noise woke them.

Whumper runs their fingers through Whumpee's hair. "Yes, darling. Someone's trying to take you away from me again. But don't worry - my hounds are taking care of it."

There's a distant, muffled scream. Whumpee flinches, their eyes going wide as they sit up. They'd left a dark patch of drool in the fabric of Whumper's pants, but Whumper doesn't mind at all.

"Wait... I know that voice. Who's out there?"

Whumper acts quickly, grabbing Whumpee's face and turning them to force eye contact. They can't let their most treasured companion remember that those humans used to be their friends; that Whumpee used to be a vampire hunter along with them.

"No one important," Whumper insists, pouring a sprinkle of magic into their words. "They're bad people. They want to take you away and hurt you."

It's always so cute to watch the effects of the hypnosis weigh Whumpee down, relaxing their anxious mind. Their pupils dilate until the color of Whumpee's eyes shows in only barely visible rings. Their breathing slows down. Their shoulders slump.

"'Kay," Whumpee whispers. "Sorry. I... got confused."

Whumper presses a kiss to their forehead. "It's alright, pet. I'll take care of everything. No need to worry. No need to even think."

Whumpee nods sleepily, allowing Whumper to pick up their wrist and examine the fresh bite mark. It's already scabbing over nicely. Whumper doesn't like biting their wrists, but their neck is so covered in marks now that they'll have to wait for some of those bites to heal before they can make more.

"Does it hurt?" Whumper asks as they kiss right next to the wound.

Whumpee shrugs, then nods. "A little," they admit. "I'm dizzy."

"Aw, I'm so sorry. You know I hate having to hurt you, don't you?"

"You'll die otherwise, right?" Whumpee asks hopefully. "You need me?"

"Yes. I need you to keep me alive, and you need me to keep you calm. You're much better off as my companion than you were before."

Whumpee's brow creases. "What was I before? I don't remember."

Whumper hums, pulling Whumpee into a gentle hug. "No one at all, dearest." Definitely not one of the city's most renouned vampire hunters, they think with a smirk. "No one at all."

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#whump #whump community #whump tropes #whump writing #whumpblr #whump scenario #whump ideas #whumpee #vampire whump #intimate whumper #hypnosis whump #brainwashing #cw blood #pet whumpee #bloodbag whumpee #vampire whumper #whump ask

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whumpprentice · 6 months

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okay but imagine someone being allergic to vampire venom. like uh oh your snack is going into anaphylaxis

#whumpprentice talks #vampire whump #(vaguely)#whump community

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thesewingmachine · 2 months

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vampire whumpee vampire whumpee vampire whumpee vampire whu

#vampire #vampire whump #whump #whumpblr #whumperflies #whump community #whump prompt #whump scenario #whump tropes #whump writing #whumpee #whump ideas

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whump-on-a-string · 4 months

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Guy's been alone in his lil vampire house for about 4 decades too long and forgot how to have a normal conversation. He just yoinks people off the street for a little dinner party bc he doesn't know how else to go about it. Poor bastard just wants some friends.

I like my shenanigans with a bit of levity.

#My Art #Dallan #OC #Whump #Vampire Whump #But then it gets wholesome because I am a coward and love good endings and making shit humorous i am sorry but also not sorry #Blame D&D Vampire shit for thisDallan is my blorbo and I am God in his world and God says everything always turns out okay #then he can continue on and deal with EVEN MORE shenanigans in the future :)#Vampire

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whump-card · 5 months

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Writing/drawing prompt! Whumpee tattoos Whumpee with various possessive or demeaning words, or just used Whumpee as practice. Thoughts?

Thoughts! THOUGHTS! So many thoughts!

But in the end, I had to make it about vampires, didn't I.

Whumpee waking up in whumper's shirt, looking in the mirror to find something awful...

Thank you very much for the prompt!

Art taglist: @angst-after-dark, @whumpsday, @flowersarefreetherapy, @rainydaywhump

#see I knew if I came back to these prompts later they'd turn out alright #this is actually my new favorite piece of art that I've done #whump #whump art #vampire whump #my art #an ask! an ask!

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whumpsoda · 6 months

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i raise you, a vampire that always keeps their thrall in a sleepy/blissful state cause they think it’s endearing. especially since the thrall was previously a ball of anxiety that couldn’t relax whatsoever before the vampire intervened

WOHEO Masterlist

God, yes!! This is so good, thank you!!

cw: vampire whumper, human whumpee, hypnosis

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“How did you…?” the vampire watched as Malak clung to the couch, desperate to keep himself from toppling over.

“I- please- I don’t-” the human’s eyes widened, his breath becoming frantic and short as he attempted to speak. His lip quivered, matching the tremble of his pale hands.

Malak’s head throbbed, discombobulated and out of order from the whirlwind consuming him. It was as if he’d been pulled from a trance of heavenly paradise, suddenly unraveling the strings of his brain. Somehow, someway he couldn’t seem to grasp, he’d escaped the clutches of a mind-bending monster, one out to steal his autonomy to the highest degree.

Overwhelmed with the only urge to escape, one that had been weakened by the vampire’s strength, he had done his very best to obey. Fighting against his strangely heavy and uncoordinated body, he had tried so hard. A voice pounded in his head, screaming at him to liberate himself.

Adrastus took a step forward, their hands held out to the other man in a comforting manner. “Darling, what happened?” Immediately, Malak attempted to run, instead slipping on his own feet, his legs far cumbersome to operate successfully.

Hitting the chill, wood flooring, an unfamiliar strike of pain cut through him. A whimper escaped his salty lips, wet from tears previously cascading down his red cheeks. In the blink of an eye, a pair of perfectly polished boots appeared level with his gaze.

He squealed, attempting to escape again, unsuccessfully. The sleepy weight of his body allowed for little movement, and thus he was easily captured by the monster. Inhumanly strong arms wrapped around his abdomen, lifting Malak into the arms of the vampire with a huff.

He desperately attempted to thrash in their hold, to no avail. While much too disoriented to resist successfully, Adrastus giggled at their discomfort. “It’s alright darling, I’m here now.” They soothed, inciting only more wiggling. They casually made their way around the couch, unbothered by the struggling man in their arms.

Malak’s head spun, the concoction of anxiousness and panic twisting in his stomach. A jumble of thoughts overwhelmed him, incomprehensibly spiraling in his brain. He sputtered unintelligibly, coherent words melting on his tongue.

Adrastus plopped onto one cushion, gently sitting Malak on their lap. Before allowing the human a chance to make any move, no matter how feeble, they softly trailed a calming hand from Malak’s forehead, down to his chin, silencing their human immediately. “Hush, sweetie. No need to worry, I’ll fix you up, easy peasy.” They flashed the human a fang-filled smile.

Instantly, Malak’s brain liquified into a pile of goop. The whirlwind of awareness ceased, leaving only the commanding touch of the vampire.

Adrastus slipped their hand from Malak’s back, gingerly draping him across their own lap. A wave of pleasure washed over him, settling and returning with each motion of Adrastus’ nimble fingers combing through his hair, lightly scratching at the surface of his scalp. With each repeat, the cloud in his mind only grew foggier, hazed with overwhelming bliss.

Drowsily, Malak adjusted his position, shifting his head to lay on Adrastus’ slender legs. “All better now, right?” In return, they merely received the slightest of a nod.

“I’m so glad. I mean, I’m shocked as well!” Adrastus pinched at their human’s cheek sweetly. “How could such a feeble little mind like yours escape my power? I haven’t seen you remotely lucid in months!” they exclaimed.

The words simply flew right over Malak’s head, too enraptured in the urge to sleep to pay much attention. Absentmindedly, he grunted, and nuzzled closer into the lush fabric of the vampire’s sweater, basking in the warmth. “So sluggish, aren’t you? Just a sleepy little boy. A good little thrall.” They let out a light chuckle, continuing to pet their thrall to unconsciousness.

“My sleepy little boy, my good little thrall.” Malak’s heart practically soared at the praise. To his delight, Adrastus pressed a soft kiss to his forehead. “You’re just adorable, all dazed and disoriented. I wouldn’t prefer my thrall any other way.”

“I mean, you enjoy it too don’t you? I can’t imagine how it must have felt escaping from such a long period of mindless bliss. Snapping into awareness must have been so terrifying.” Pouting, Adrastus delicately swiped away the last slick tear from Malak’s red cheeks. “That’s why you can’t let that happen again, alright? I couldn’t imagine what you did to allow your consciousness so close to the surface, but surely you’ve learned your lesson now?”

Malak nodded eagerly, shaken over the idea of displeasing the vampire. “Such confusing emotions of fear and distress just aren’t fit for a thrall as cute as you!” A wide, dull-eyed smile couldn’t help but spread across the human’s face.

“Must’ve just been all that anxiousness stirring inside that tummy of yours. I'll be sure to arrange that a similar situation does not arise again.” The assurance was comforting, yet Malak couldn’t help but sense a slight anguish stirring inside him.

#asks :)#Don’t know how much I like this but I really wanted to get it done #whump #whumpblr #pet whump #Hypnosis whump #vampire whump #whump writing #My writing #vampire whumper #human whumpee #Malak oc #Adrastus oc #we only have each other

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oliversrarebooks · 1 month

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The Rare Bookseller Part 47: The Maestro's Diversion

Prev > Masterlist > Next

September 1925

TW: mind control, body control, captivity, kidnapping

Despite Alexander's attempt at soothing him, Oliver felt himself growing more and more anxious as the ballet continued. As much as he tried to focus on the dance, but now that he knew about the strange man's identity, he couldn't help but sneak glances over at him and fret.

Objectively, he didn't look that dangerous - a very slight older man with a sharp gaze -- but there was a certain something dreadful about him that Oliver could sense from across the theater. Or perhaps it was just his imagination, borne of the fact that Alexander was still very much on edge.

The ballet itself did not calm his nerves either. The dancing was growing more and more feverish and abstract, the costumes wilder, with bright red beads and ribbons that seemed to signify wounds. The climax was what appeared to be a human sacrifice, where the prima ballerina danced upon an altar, red ribbons tied around her hands and feet and neck, finally collapsing among raucous, atonal music.

Oliver's anxiety was reaching a fever pitch as the ballet came to a close. He clapped politely as the dancers took their bows, glancing over at the strange man.

He was clapping, but he wasn't looking at the stage any more. No, his eyes were trained directly on Oliver. They locked gazes, and Oliver felt a chill run down his spine.

"We will wait until most of the audience has cleared out," said his master. "Then we'll go attend to my master in his box. We may be in luck. He may be in an unusually pleasant mood."

Oliver had no idea how that icy gaze could count to Alexander as "unusually pleasant." "Must we meet him?"

Alexander didn't answer.

"Couldn't we just... leave?"

"No."

Oliver had never imagined he could feel so much dread simply watching men in tuxedos and women in fancy evening dress chatter and mingle as they made their way to the exits. His hands hurt, and he realized that he was gripping the arms of the chair so hard that they were making imprints. Alexander said nothing, stoically staring down at the empty stage.

Alexander was being so terse, so stiff, so unlike his normal self. But Oliver, of course, had no choice but to follow, no matter how badly he wanted to dig in his heels and not go. He feared that any struggle right now would not be met with Alexander's gentle spell correcting him, but with something far worse.

They made their way around the theater in silence, entering the box and entering the presence of Alexander's sire.

He looked upon Alexander with harsh judgement in his eyes, which Alexander took stoically, and then he looked upon Oliver with...

It was something like approval, perhaps even the ghost of a smile, and it was somehow even worse than his look of disdain.

"Good evening, sire," said his master with a practiced bow. "Was the ballet to your liking?"

"It was passable," the Maestro said, his voice like a musical instrument from another place and time. "While far from perfection, the bold direction was at least more interesting than what usually passes for art in this city. Unusually, I find myself craving the new more and more these days." He was staring at Oliver, not Alexander, as he said this.

"It seems as though you've spent the last few seasons confined to your chambers, sire," said Alexander, with measured words. "That may account for your desire for novelty."

"...A fair observation, child," he said. "Let's speak more of the new and novel, then. This must be your recently acquired thrall, young Oliver, is it not? I've heard that there was quite a stir at the auction house."

"He has very fine blood, sire, as you no doubt can tell. He is naturally docile and obedient, and has great potential."

The Maestro nodded slowly as he looked Oliver up and down. "Come, Oliver. Kneel."

Oliver's breath caught as he felt the tug on his body, puppet strings entangling his arms and legs, as he stepped forward. He remembered his master's words, and had been bracing himself for this, willing himself to relax and stay calm. Oliver would be unharmed, Alexander thought, as long as he behaved. So he didn't resist as his body fell to its knees before the Maestro, his posture straight, his hands clasped in his lap, his head tilted slightly downward, demure.

Alexander's sire took him by the chin and brought his face upwards, his fingers delicate and cold. He examined Oliver as though he were a specimen under glass, searching every inch of him for something that Oliver didn't understand. Oliver could feel the control wrapped around him, as though his very heart was forced to beat in time with the Maestro's whims.

"You've made an appropriate choice for once, Alexander," said the Maestro after what seemed like an eternity. "This is a fine acquisition, and you were quite right to not let him fall into the hands of the likes of Jameson. Well done, child."

Alexander looked every bit as surprised as Oliver felt. "Thank you, sire."

"In fact, I find myself inspired for a new acquisition of my own. As you've correctly observed, existence has become ever so dreary, and I need a new diversion." He leaned back in his seat. "Which is why you're going to pluck the prima ballerina from her perch."

Oliver nearly choked on his breath as Alexander's eyes went even wider. "The ballerina from this show, sire?" he said in a strained tone. "I don't mean to question you, but are you absolutely sure? She's well known and her absence will certainly be noticed."

"Of course. Don't take me for a fool by stating the obvious." His glare was boring a hole into Alexander. "It doesn't matter how well known she is. Once she's in my grasp, she will not be found."

"Yes, sire. My apologies."

"You must fetch her for me. Your power is much gentler than mine, befitting a lovely flower. Bring her here, so that she may dance for me and only me."

Oliver couldn't help his gaze flitting over to his master, who seemed to be struggling to keep his composure. Was he actually going to do it? Simply kidnap the ballerina, on his sire's orders?

"As you wish, sire," he said, meekly. "Oliver, come along."

"No, that won't be necessary," said the Maestro, laying his hand on top of Oliver's head before he could stand up. "I will be content to watch over your thrall while you take care of business."

The hand on his head felt oppressive, and Oliver fought down the urge to beg his master not to leave him here, alone with his sire -- to not steal away a dancer with a bright future and plunge her into a nightmare. But he could already tell from the look on his master's face that he was going to follow his sire's wishes.

"Thank you for watching over him, sire. I will return with your new thrall."

With that, his master left the box, and Oliver was left alone with his master's sire, whose full focus had turned back to him. The Maestro ran his hand through Oliver's hair, and then tilted his head up to look at him once more.

"Hm, yes, a precious find indeed," he said, more to himself than to Oliver. "You will answer my questions truthfully, child. Do you fear me?"

The correct answer, Oliver thought, was to tell the Maestro that he did not fear him, that he was always happy to serve a vampire. But Alexander had warned him so strictly about being honest... "Yes, sir."

"Good. You're correct to do so," he said, apparently satisfied. "What do you fear from me?"

That question was far more complex, a half million nightmare scenarios crowding Oliver's mind at once. "Many things, sir," he said. "Primarily that I'm aware that you have the power to harm me at any time, in any way you wish. I hope you will be merciful, sir."

"Merciful, hm." He seemed as though he were considering an idea he'd never heard of before, and Oliver worried he'd overstepped. "Well, you have been honest so far, so I will be honest with you, child. If you continue to be as truthful and obedient as you are now, I will have no reason to do you harm tonight."

"Thank you, sir," said Oliver, not feeling all that reassured. He felt the control over his body loosen, but before he could move, he realized what the meaning of this was when combined with his previous words -- this was a test, an obvious one at that. He steadfastly remained in the position the Maestro had placed him, trying to keep his posture straight.

"Perhaps I'm in a rare good mood from the fine night air and a half-decent ballet, but I find myself enjoying you, child. Do not take this as an invitation to be bold," he said in his musical voice. "Tell me, do you like being enthralled by my Alexander?"

Although his feelings on this were somewhat complicated, the first response that came to mind was both safe and sufficiently honest. "Yes, sir, I like it very much."

"Does he treat you well?" the Maestro intoned.

"Yes, sir," said Oliver with uncertainty, increasingly worried about this line of questioning. "I want for nothing, and the feedings are gentle and pleasant."

"I see. And does he afford you a great deal of freedom?"

So that's where this was leading. He was trying to get Oliver to admit to his master's soft treatment of him, no doubt so his master could be scolded or punished. His instinct was to protect Alexander -- to tell the Maestro that Alexander was very strict and kept him on a tight leash.

But Alexander had been adamant that Oliver must be honest, and he felt sick at the idea of disobeying a direct order from his master. "He offers me some freedoms, but not others, sir."

"Elaborate. What freedoms do you have?"

"I am not allowed to leave his manor, sir, but I am allowed to inhabit any part of it, except for my master's private chambers. When I am not feeding or waiting on my master, I am given free time to do what I wish." His heart thumped. He knew that was the wrong answer. He fought to keep himself in position, and felt the claws of control tightening around him again.

The Maestro's gaze drilled into his soul. "That is disappointing, but wholly unsurprising," he said after a long, tense minute. "Interestingly, that's the first time I've felt any sort of resistance against my control. You're otherwise obeying perfectly. Why choose that moment to struggle?"

"I want to be honest, as you ordered, sir, but I also don't want to say anything that could bring down punishment upon my master."

"Loyalty, then. An instinct to protect your master. Despite his continued shortcomings, he seems to have done a passable job when it came to enthralling you, especially compared to previous thralls," he said. "That's also my sweet Lily's work. I could sense it in you from the moment you opened your mouth. Obedient, loyal, but with too many thoughts in your head, as is her preference. Unfortunate, really." He gave Oliver a long look. "I suppose it can't be helped. For once my wayward children have brought me something worthwhile. You can always be perfected in time."

Oliver's heart filled with dread. "...Thank you, sir," he said, not knowing what else to say to that.

Before the awkward interaction could continue, Oliver heard a gorgeous, ethereal voice coming from outside of the box. He breathed it in deep, and it filled his mind with a sensation like morning fog, dampening the racing thoughts that the Maestro had criticized. The melody was beckoning him, wrapping around his limbs, enticing him to stand and follow.

Alexander. His master had returned. Follow me, follow me, he sang, a vampiric pied piper.

The pull of his song was strong enough that his master's previous command to obey the Maestro and not resist was completely overridden. He would have sleepwalked to Alexander's side in a heartbeat if it weren't for the Maestro's control preventing him, weighing down his body even as his heart yearned, and Oliver felt that he might be torn in two if this continued.

The struggle was ended when Alexander entered the box and bowed to his sire. Behind him was a young woman, thin but athletic, wearing a simple house dress that contrasted sharply with her dramatic stage makeup and the elaborate hairdo that was halfway to falling down.

It was, of course, the prima ballerina, who had apparently been ensorcelled in her dressing room, just after changing out of her elaborate costume. Her eyes were so far away, so dreamy, as she walked gracefully, a soft smile on her lips.

Oliver's heart sank. He knew from experience how hard it was to escape Alexander's power -- and even worse, she was being given over to the Maestro's thrall. She might never see the stage again, never dance for an audience, never see her family or friends, never laugh and talk with her fellow dancers after a rehearsal. She was to be locked away like a doll in a music box, rotating slowly on command, and she most likely didn't even realize her fate yet.

The Maestro rose from his seat and wordlessly examined her as he had done to Oliver. Alexander was still humming something under his breath, something intended to keep the ballerina calm, and Oliver let the spell soften his thoughts as well, all too eager to dissociate from this scene.

He watched as, with the slightest change in expression and quirk of an eyebrow, the ballerina struck one pose, then another. She was nearly up on her toes despite wearing slippers and not proper shoes, twirling so slowly, and although her face maintained a placid expression, there was fear in her eyes, now.

"Acceptable," the Maestro murmured, as she turned and assumed a different pose. "This will do for a diversion this winter, I think. Well done once more, Alexander."

"Thank you, sire."

"It's been a long time since I've come calling, hasn't it? I do believe I have the evening after next free. I trust I'll be offered quality refreshments?" He gazed at Oliver meaningfully, as the meaning of his words penetrated through the fog.

This strange, distressing vampire wanted to drink from him. Surely his master wouldn't allow that. Surely he was only for Alexander.

"...Very well, sir," said Alexander through gritted teeth. "You're welcome at my manor at any time, of course."

"Excellent. You're dismissed, then. Take your sweet Oliver home, and I'll take my new prize." He picked the ballerina up as effortlessly as he might a kitten, and she lay unmoving in his grasp.

"Good night, sire."

"Good night, child."

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Well, this went well.

Next week, Fitz has a plan.

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