Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

After the performance, they’d confronted the vampire Larten Crepsley. 

It hadn’t taken long for him to convince Darren that his powers were real — that vampires were real. 

And it hadn’t been difficult for Steve to convince Larten to take them — both of them — as his assistants. Mr. Tall, who they’d all thought would reject the idea, had actually encouraged Larten to accept the two humans. 

And now, they travelled with the Cirque, as his unblooded assistants. 

Right away, they’d both withdrawn from their old job plans and written home, saying they’d found jobs with a touring occult show. Their parents all thought it was just a special effects show, and though they rolled their eyes at it a bit, they were happy for Steve and Darren, that they could follow their passion for horror movies this way — and, though they didn’t say it,  that the boys had found jobs worthy of their creativity that didn’t involve organized crime.

Not exactly, at least — these shows weren’t mundane special effects like their parents thought, and they weren’t exactly legal. But everyone back home didn’t have to know that. 

Larten had started training Darren and Steve in many aspects of vampire life — including sword-fighting. Steve had taken well to it, excited to learn anything he can. Darren had jad a rougher time so far — he had always been athletic, but he didn’t like vicious combat — but he tried to learn.

They had also begun to study the Vampiric language, from both Mr. Crepsley and Mr. Tall. The Cirque owner seemed oddly interested in the two of them, and Mr. Crepsley had been surprised at his eagerness to help with the education of the two assistants, but grateful nonetheless. 

And the two assistants were enjoying their newfound freedom. The Cirque members really did have an anything-goes attitude. Same-sex romances were nothing new to them. On the contrary, the Cirque was so open that even these two had had to expand their conceptions. Relationships of more than two people were more common than not in the troupe, which was something Darren and Steve had never considered. But it hadn’t taken them long to get used to it.

Yet even in such an open-minded group, Steve managed to cause offense. Open-mindedness wasn’t the issue, Darren realized. A lot of things the Cirque members did, like their sexual practices, would be condemned by most human societies, but they weren’t actually harming anyone, so there was no reason for human societies to react that way. The things Steve did, on the other hand — mean pranks, rude comments — did cause harm. More emotional harm than physical — and not even that, but mere annoyance. Even so, it was wrong.

Mr. Crepsley was often inclined to punish him, but Darren would intercede. He’d tell the vampire, and Mr. Tall, that Steve was just adjusting to this life, having emotional issues. They doubted him, and to be honest, Darren wasn’t sure that he truly believed what he was saying, either… but in truth, the longer they were with the Cirque, the less Steve misbehaved. Maybe it was true… maybe he was just taking time to unwind from the restrictions and judgments that had always been placed on him.

Maybe this truly could be what he’d always needed. 

He was changing, growing kinder, and less protective and vicious with his creativity, which truly was impressive. And as he did, even Mr. Crepsley warmed to him — and slowly, Steve began to forgive the vampire for the pain of his rejection all those years ago. 

It was odd, Darren thought — the real-life Mr. Crepsley was so similar to the one from Darren’s dreams. It wasn’t just his personality as a mentor, strict yet kind, embarrassed when there was something he didn’t know, and inclined to hide that embarrassment behind a wall of pride, but relaxed and willing to laugh at himself by the end of the night. These were details that Darren couldn’t have picked up from just seeing him on stage that one time. 

Those dreams… what could they mean?

Early one cold night, after finishing his work for Mr. Crepsley, Darren was alone at the edge of the camp, waiting for Steve to return, or for the vampire to wake up, when he noticed someone approaching.

The stranger was a blond man of medium height, only slightly shorter than Darren. 

What stood out immediately were his clothes. He wore a heavy woolen cape, with a black fur collar and some kind of heavy, geometric design embroidered on the edge, also trimmed in fur. The cape was long enough to hide the tops of his high boots, which also looked hand-crafted, and unlike a product of the modern world, as did the bag that he carried. 

In the few nights since the troupe had arrived in this new town that they’d planned to perform in, Darren hadn’t encountered many local people. Maybe this was the sort of place where traditional crafts still thrived, and maybe everyone here still dressed like this. 

But no… something about this stranger made Darren realize that that didn’t quite fit. 

It was dark, yet he carried no lantern.

When he reached Darren, he waved, and called out, with a smile. “Hello! Is this where the Cirque du Freak is playing?” He spoke English, with an Eastern accent that Darren couldn’t quite place.

Up close, Darren could see more clearly that his cape was dark blue; his hair was long and tied back in a ponytail with a cord; his left cheek bore three scars that gave an edge of severity to his kind, blue eyes; and — more than anything — he was extremely beautiful.

“Y-yeah, it is…” Darren said. “Are you looking to buy a ticket? I can—“

He cut himself off when the stranger lifted his hand to push stray strands of his hair from his face, and Darren saw his fingers — each marked with familiar scars.

“— You’re a vampire!” Darren blurted it out without thinking.

The stranger blinked. “You noticed,” he said. For a moment, Darren wondered what he would do — would he be angry? — but the stranger still smiled. “Actually, I’m here in search of a friend.”

“Not Mr. Crepsley?”

“Ah, then he is here?” 

“Yeah, he’s…” Darren turned — the vampire was supposed to meet him there in just—

And Crepsley did arrive just then, as if summoned.  

When he saw the stranger, his expression hardened.

“Kurda Smahlt.”

—————

Later, Kurda sat alone with Larten in one of the Cirque’s trailers.

One of the Little People who traveled with the Cirque had brought them tea. The creature had looked up at Kurda — their hoods all hid their faces, so that all one could see were two green glows, from what must have been their eyes.

This one, as it stared at Kurda, seemed to say… “Don’t I know you?” 

He shuddered. How… why did he feel that? Feel… as if the words had been somehow pressed into his mind. It wasn’t at all like vampire telepathy… and yet, somehow, it was. But, from a Little Person? Why…

The trio of Little People left, and Kurda and Larten were alone. They sat in silence for a short time. Kurda looked around the trailer — it wasn’t where Larten slept, he knew. It was, apparently, an office of sorts, set up for meetings. There was a large, wooden desk at one end, and memorabilia from the Cirque on all the walls. He had never gotten to see a performance, despite being friends with a few of the cast. Maybe this time, he could. 

Finally, Larten spoke.

“Did Gavner tell you where to find me?”

“No,” Kurda replied, bringing his thoughts back to the reason why he had come. “Actually… Lady Evanna did.”

At that, Larten looked up. This wasn’t welcome news to him. Should Kurda have lied? But what else could he have said?

“Don’t worry, I’m not trying to bring you back to the clan. I just… wanted to see an old friend.”

That part was a lie. Evanna had told him that Larten could help him. This feeling that had been bothering him so intensely, and those dreams… he needed to know what they meant. If Larten could help… 

But Kurda had another question. “That young man outside— who is he?”

Larten smiled wryly at the mention. “A rather persistent human — or, his lover is, at least. The pair of them had come to the Cirque as boys. The other — his name is Steve — back then, he had wanted me to blood him, but I told him that I could not take on one so young as an assistant. He has grown up, and since he still wanted to be a vampire, he has come to me again, and brought his beloved with him — the dark haired one, Darren, who you saw outside just now.” 

A chill ran through Kurda. It was too close to the story that the General had told at Council. “Really? They’d wanted to… when was this?”

“About eight or nine years ago, I believe,” Larten said. 

Darren… did it fit, that name? He tried, to assign it to the mysterious figure in his dreams. If this Darren had been blooded as a child, he might have seemed so young even now — but it was Steve who had wanted to be blooded, not Darren. Steve… could this Steve be the… he shook his head lightly. No, definitely not.

This was insane, all of it. He knew that, and yet… Evanna had told him to trust in the dreams. To trust in the dreams, and to seek out Larten. 

She had refused to provide any more information, but it all just fit together too well. If there were a connection, this had to be it. Steve, or Darren. One of the two.

And the other…?

“What makes you interested in them?” Larten asked. 

Kurda put on his usual smile, and shook it off. “Nothing, nothing.” 

“You are not planning to snatch one of them away for yourself, are you?” 

“What? No, not at all,” Kurda smiled. “Two assistants are already more than I can handle.”

Larten’s eyebrows went up. “You have two assistants now? When did this happen?”

Kurda laughed. “Why are you so surprised?”

“It is nothing,” Larten said, scoffing. “Only… you are rather young to be a master to a pair of wild youths, are you not?”

Kurda smiled. “No, they’re nothing like that.” 

“Do not tell me they were unfortunates who you rescued from some atrocity,” Larten said, and Kurda’s expression must have told him right away that that was indeed the case. “And where are they now?”

“They’re back in Vampire Mountain,” Kurda said, “helping— that is, helping Vancha with some official business. You know how he never likes to handle his royal duties.”

“Does he not have his own assistants to do that for him?” Larten asked. Was he suspicious? Kurda brushed it away. He wouldn’t tell Larten about his recent change in status. No… he wanted to hear his old friend’s honest opinions first… things that someone like Larten would never say openly to a Prince. From Larten… and from his two new assistants.

——

That day, Darren had that dream again. The raging stream in the mountains… that man… and those words that he didn’t understand.

He woke in the early afternoon, and he and Steve went to do their regular jobs, both for the show and for Larten. The sun was setting, and they were enjoying their short moment of peace before their mentor woke.

Steve had been looking at Darren oddly all afternoon, as if he had some suspicion. Darren had tried to brush it off, to cover it with a smile. But… could Steve tell that something was on his mind?

Suddenly, he took Darren’s hand. “What’s wrong?” he asked

Darren blinked, then smiled. He should have known that he couldn’t hide anything from Steve. “Nothing… nothing, just…” Darren sighed. He took a deep breath, and said them — those mysterious, incomprehensible words from his dream.

Steve laughed. “Oh, that. Those mysterious magic words we used to use in stories. Why are you thinking about that?”

Again, Darren was surprised, but then he smiled. It was true. They had, hadn’t they? Long ago… he’d almost forgotten.

He’d never told Steve that he’d heard them — said them — in a dream. 

He changed the subject. “That man… Mr. Crepsley’s friend…”

“Kurda Smahlt,” Steve said the name with a certain intonation. Darren couldn’t tell if it was awe, excitement at meeting another real vampire, or something else. But Steve seemed to like the newcomer. Darren was glad — he liked him, too. 

But at the same time… Kurda looked so much like that person in Darren’s dream… maybe that was why the dream had come back. Had the figure in the dream had those scars before? Had his hair had just that tone, his eyes just that passion… or had Darren’s mind superimposed this new person he’d just met — they really had only just met last night — onto his… And if he had, what did that mean? 

Yes, they’d met a lot of new people at the Cirque, and seen relationships and lifestyles that they hadn’t previously considered, but how did Steve relate that to himself, and Darren? If Darren had feelings for Kurda… would Steve be jealous? He shook his head — in the scheme of things, it seemed like a silly thing to worry about. Yet… this was Steve. 

But Steve did seem to like Kurda… The way he smiled, when Darren had only mentioned him. The way he said his name… maybe he even had those feelings himself.

The night before, they had spent some time with Kurda and Mr. Crepsley, and learned a lot about the world of vampires, things that Mr. Crepsley hadn’t yet told them. They’d never heard the word “vampaneze” before, and it was interesting to hear Kurda and Mr. Crepsley sharing their contrasting views on their blood cousins. 

Darren had been horrified when he’d learned that killer vampires did exist after all. Though even Mr. Crepsley, who didn’t like them, admitted that they were honorable and worthy of respect, Darren still felt uncomfortable. Still, he thought it was admirable that Kurda wanted to make peace between the clans. As much as the thought of the vampaneze made him uncomfortable, he still thought that peace must be the better path.

Steve, on the other hand, seemed intrigued by the idea of the vampaneze. When Kurda, to Mr. Crepsley’s dismay, had asked him directly if he’d want to become a vampaneze instead of a vampire, Steve had scoffed. He’d said that he’d prefer the stronger side, the vampires with their mountain fortress, complex rituals, rank system to climb, organized trials to undertake — Kurda had told them so much about the Council, and how the events ran — but even so… Darren could see that something inside of Steve did feel drawn to the vampaneze. 

Could he ask Steve about it now? The thought scared him — the thought of losing Steve. Because Darren knew that he couldn’t follow Steve there. He couldn’t become a vampaneze… he couldn’t kill. But without Steve, he didn’t think he could even become a vampire. And then what would he do?

No, this was a conundrum where he knew he couldn’t face the likely answer. So he did as habit led him, and put it off for as long as possible. 

So he changed the subject. “How do you think Kurda keeps his hair so nice, living out in the wilderness?” Darren asked. 

Steve grinned. “Probably animal fat!”

Darren’s eyes widened. “Really? You can use that in your hair?”

“Yeah! Apparently it works better than the things they sell in stores for humans,” Steve said. 

They continued like that, going over comfortable territory, until it was time to meet with Mr. Crepsley — and now, Kurda, who it seemed was attaching himself to the Cirque for the time being. 

But even as they went through their daily training, those words from the dream kept running through Darren’s head. Why… why was it that they felt like something, that they brushed against something in his mind that they hadn’t before, something…

It wasn’t until later, when they were getting out their notebooks for Vampiric language lessons, that Darren remembered. 

Now that Kurda was here, he’d agreed to help them with the language. 

Though Mr. Crepsley spoke it, as did any vampire of good standing, Mr. Tall had contributed more to the two assistants’ language lessons. At first, they hadn’t understood why. But then, only a couple of weeks after joining him, they’d come to realize that Mr. Crepsley was probably illiterate. Darren had noticed, wondered, but shook the thought aside until Steve had asked him one night if he’d noticed it, too. They’d agreed not to let on to Mr. Crepsley that they’d figured out his secret, and they’d both thought that that one sensitive spot made him seem a lot less scary. And they’d shared a moment of the thrill of their adventure, that they were here, traveling the world with the Cirque, getting to know a real vampire, and all his arcane knowledge, and hidden sides. 

But now, sitting at the table with Kurda and Steve,  just the sight of the notebook made him remember.

“Darren? What’s wrong?” Kurda asked. Steve, too, was looking at him, head tilted, focused, but without words.

“It’s… it’s nothing, really.” Darren said. He quickly sat down, and opened his notebook to their last lesson. 

Yet he couldn’t stop his hand from shaking… he’d realized… in the middle of that mysterious phrase from his dream… the Vampiric word for death.