This peice follows Put out the Light and The Hunter. Vindemiatrix plays a much bigger part in this than in the others. This is in the POV of his lover, the one mention in Put out the Light and explores his persective on Vindemiatrix's change into a vampire. Also, my best friend named his cousin, not me. So if i get called on copy-right infringement I'm offering her head to the executioner.
Warings: yaoi, bits of incest (not graphic), angst.
Last Thing: Please let me know how i did. give me advice. Tell me what I did wrong. I love that sort of stuff.
End of a Fairy Tale
My beloved Vindemiatrix…
He's changed so much. He's still utterly perfect, but he's not my Trix anymore. His skin is still ivory pale, but no longer can I make his cheeks flush in passion or modesty. His beautiful, beautiful grey eyes I had been able to see the world in now just reflect the things around him like a mirror. His eyes—like his uncles' eyes—now glitter with icy sapphire, violet, ruby, and even emerald depending on the colors surrounding him. I miss the clarity his eyes use to possess. He will forever be as he is now. He won't change, but I will.
Now Vindemiatrix is spending more and more time with his cousin, Armadeo. They're mirrors of each other, almost exact. Vindemiatrix has even taken to covering the mark by his eye that betrays him as who he is. It is impossible to know which one is which. They dress alike, act alike, speak alike, and even move alike. It's like they are one entity now. I miss my Trix, and I know Armadeo's lover misses him.
Once, I had caught Vindemiatrix lying with his cousin the same way he use to lie with me. They were joined together as one and drinking deep of the other's now immortal primal fonts. Vindemiatrix's face was twisted in ecstasy and red blood dribbled from his parted lips. My darling, bashful Trix would never have worn a look of such utter abandonment. My Trix has been replaced by an adulterated imitation.
"What has you in such a dour mood?" comes the lyrical voice as pleasant as twinkling bells. His icy arms wrap around me from behind as he curls against me, his head resting against my shoulder blade. He squeezes just a little and I wince as my back cracks threateningly. Vindemiatrix is so strong now, and he forgets how weak I am next to him.
"Just thinking," I answer. God, do not let him ask me of what.
"Then why think such grim thoughts is they make you so glum?"
I glance downward to his clasped hands resting over my abdomen and feel a sharp stab of jealousy. His nails are crowned black, another mark of Armadeo's influence over Vindemiatrix. My Trix, if he even painted his nails at all, use to be colored with soft blues, but now since Armadeo gained importance, he paints his nails bright reds and hard, dark colors.
"I can try not to," I start to answer his question, "but then I think about it more."
"It sounds like you need something to distract you…" he whispers and his lips brush against the bare skin of my shoulder. I can feel the points of his fangs scrap against my skin, but they do not break through.
"No, Vindemiatrix," I answer softly, denying him.
He jerks. For a moment I know not if he recoils from me casting him aside or from my bitter use of his name. "You never call me that," he says in surprise. I know without looking that his eyes are too wide and his countenance is exaggerated beyond the limit of human expression.
"I just have," I respond, my voice colder that I mean it to be. He should be glad. Since we met he had been trying to make me stop calling him by pet names, even if his name is too long. He got his wish.
"Why?" he asks aloud sounding completely lost.
I knew what's he really asking, but I don't answer that question. "I don't need distracting, Vindemiatrix. I need space. I need to think."
"Why did you call me Vindemiatrix?" his voice is ice. He has not relaxed his grip on me for even half a second.
"Because that is your name!" I snap. I try to break away from his hold, but I'll never be strong enough now. My pixyish paramour, despite his slenderness and tiny, thin-boned body, will always be stronger than me now.
"Why are you being so strange?"
"I am being strange?" I ask. "How can you ask that? If any of us is being strange, it is you! I barely know you any more, Vindemiatrix. You're changed. You're not my Trix anymore." He tenses and I hear an animalistic snarl. So I've hit a nerve. Good.
"Changed? Of course I've changed. Have you forgotten? I died," his voice is harsh. His hands ball into fists as he releases me, still growling. I turn to look into his now furious eyes set in a face twisted with anger. "I have not forgotten."
Dear God, how did it come to this? I can feel my heart shatter into tiny shards and splinters. My precious Trix who I love so which, who without there is no point to continuing this sham of existence, is gone. When did we fall apart like this? How could I have let this happen?
He's still so lovely, except now he's lovely like a diamond—hard and cold—where before he was lovely like a rose—fragile and so full of life. What happened to my wonderful, angelic Trix? Where did this monster hide him?
Numbly, I turn away, and he does nothing to stop me. Vindemiatrix stands and watches dispassionately as I escape, his smoldering eyes freezing my broken heart more and more.
I think it's time I go home and let my memories of my dear beloved rest. He's gone now, and he won't ever come back.