Night's Omen

Prompt List

• Forgive
• Hidden
• Fly
• Headache
• Blood
• Listen
• Alive
• Accident
• Never
• Tears

Ember felt the pull just as all the others had, but hers was different on some level; stronger. He wasn't just calling the birds to him; it was the sire bond tugging at her, and that was what had made her abandon her flight, instructing them to go back to Midnight as quickly as their wings could carry them, with a swift apology to Verity all she could manage before she lost herself.

When she landed, she was behind enemy lines. She took her human form as quickly as she could, hands held up as the men, armed with guns, came to collect her. She walked with her head held high, golden eyes focused straight ahead as they lead her through the unfamiliar guild halls.

"Wait here," one of them snapped. He took her by the arm and thrust her down into a chair, where another stood with a gun trained on her. It was another five or ten minutes before anyone told her anything else, and she managed not to give them anything of her mental state to go on - they'd all say that she was stone cold and silent the entire time, like ice, just as every member of the Raven Guard should be. And for Ember, as the Captain, she had an obligation to hold fast to that until the moment they put a bullet in her head. If they expected anything else, they were wrong.

They brought her into an interrogation room shortly after, where an overly-aggressive trainer tried to break through her defenses. He must've had orders not to touch her, and after about a half-hour of receiving absolutely nothing from her, she was released into the custody of the man who had initially called her. And by released into his custody, she was literally taken by the arm and thrust at him so hard that if he hadn't have held a hand out to receive her, she may have bounced off of him and fallen to the ground.

"Still as quiet as ever," he mused, leading her down the hall and away from the commotion.

"I learned from the best," she said finally, her voice honey-sweet.

They stopped suddenly, and Loic spun her around to face him. "Imagine my surprise, my little bird, when I find out that two of mine are in Midnight's walls. Conflict of interest doesn't even begin to describe the situation at hand," he snapped.

She stared at him, confusion in her eyes. It became clear to Loic then that she had no idea her own blood-brother was currently working with her. He laughed bitterly, then took her by the arm again, gripping her tightly out of anger and frustration, so much so that he finally got her to make a small noise of pain.

"That I am even returning you in one piece is a testament to my good will. You'd better tell that Triste not to make me regret it. Tell the Guard to stand down, or I will take them all from her, and I will send them back in pieces. Am I understood, Elspeth?" he demanded.

"Yes, my lord," she gasped, setting her jaw.

He let her go with a final twist, tossing her back into a wall. "Get out of my sight," he snarled. "You're lucky I allow you the ability to breathe. Now go, and don't let me find out your ravens have taken flight again, or I will make good on my promise, and you will be the first."

She nodded, then turned and fled.

The brush with Loic had been far more terrifying than she would have liked to admit - to anyone. Back in the safety of Midnight's cold, dark halls, Ember took a moment to steady herself, trying to talk down the way in which the hysterics had boiled to the surface and caused her eyes to water and fingers to clench as she closed her arms tightly around herself. She slid down the stone wall, the cool feel of it against her back comforting in a way that literally nobody who was not under Midnight's employ could understand (and even then, it was scarce).

Head bowed against wringing hands, she tucked her knees to her chest, speaking softly to herself. "Your name is Ember now, you are a Raven," she chanted, the madness mantra barely a sound against the otherwise still corridor. Ember was fool to think that she could be alone for long, however, and her hypervigilance caused her to scramble to her feet at the first inclining that she was not alone.

"What's this?" The question was posed with mock-curiosity from the man who some only referred to as The German or The Nazi. His blue eyes surveyed the nerve-wracked woman, lips pursed and brows raised as he waited for an answer. His arms were folded lightly over his chest and his posture was comfortable - he'd leaned back against the wall across from her, clearly intending on staying for a moment to see this little tantrum out.

"Nothing, nothing," she said, attempting to compose herself as quickly as possible. She brushed her shaking fingers across her swath of side bangs, giving him a wave. She was far older, but Stefan still intimated her. Something about the way he had been made had been so different from her own undertaking - which of course, happened only after a suicide attempt. In terms of vampires, her sire was god-tier, while she herself was only barely there. It would add insult to injury to know that her maker was also Stefan's, but it truly demonstrated in simple terms that the circumstances of one's death and change could dictate their ability to attain power.

"Is the iron-willed Captain of Midnight's illustrious Guard losing her nerve?" he taunted. He'd never gotten along with Ember. She was old, yet stank of a child vampire, and Stefan couldn't tolerate weakness in any form, even from someone who could technically be his superior. If it weren't for her golden eyes, he'd refuse to even look at her, but the liquid amber-orange colour of them was stunning, and reminded him of some of his more exotic pets in the past. Idly, he wondered how easily she could be broken?

"Away with you," Ember commanded, finding her voice. As sternly as she spoke, it was almost as though she didn't even believe in her own orders issued, and it was obvious to the blonde vampire across from her. The danger found her before she could react, and he had her pressed against the wall, one large hand wrapped around her delicate throat - he applied no pressure, but caged her there, pressing the side of his face against hers as he spoke.

"Do not give order you cannot stand behind," he warned her, voice thick with accent of a man with vast military prowess. "It makes your vulnerability palpable, and frankly, it's pathetic." He wanted to, in that instant, crush her throat - it wasn't for fear of punishment that he did not. It was simply that he found he could not. Something was woven tightly in her aura that he recognized, and he felt cause to - protect it? No, that wasn't correct. It was obligation though, and it bothered him that he did not know the source.

"Your maker," he demanded. "What is his name?"

Ember was paralyzed in fear. Stefan might not have known who she was, but it only took his body against hers for her to recognize him. Loic would choose this one for himself, she thought bitterly. He could have been a son, or a brother - not in appearance but in deed and word. It wasn't only what he spoke but how he spoke it. How many times had she heard Loic say those exact things? Not to her, but to others. Ember had never been in a position of power then, she had been simply the gem of his collection. Innocent and frail, not to be tarnished by blade or task. And now?

She swallowed, feeling her throat push against his hand, and took in an unnecessary breath. She closed her eyes for a moment, pressing her lips together tightly. When she opened them again, he was still there, and they were still locked in stance. "I am forbidden to speak it," she said firmly. "And I fear him more than I fear you."

"Then speak it you won't," Stefan said, relaxing his hand for a moment. He removed it from her throat, giving the illusion that the exchange was over, and he stepped aside to let her by. When Ember foolishly attempted to leave, however, Stefan demonstrated yet again why Loic had chosen him over any other on the battlefield that day. Ember had several hundred years on him, and he bested her in an instant, grabbing this time her arm rather than her neck, yanking her entire body back. She hit the wall so hard that for a moment she was stunned, and in that moment Stefan fought against every fiber in his body that was being repelled from harm by her aura, and bit her.

He wasn't entirely proud of the tactic he had used, mostly because what had happened before was intimidation but not assault and would hold no water with Niall. This was outright attack, and feeding from allies in Midnight was generally frowned upon. Not to mention, Ember held favour with the Silver-Eyed Witch, and that could bode terribly for the Nazi if he hesitated even for a moment in this endeavour. What he needed, however, was information - and he'd never force Ember to speak if she were forbidden from doing so.

He was doing her a favour, really.

No sooner had her blood splashed against his tongue than did he pull away from her in absolute shock. Not terror or disgust, just complete and total surprise. A blood sibling? Hidden here, before him, all along? And she had knowledge of her maker - of his maker, a man with whom he had never spoken or even reconciled after his own creation. And he had her age wrong by a significant amount - which only made him even crazier for having attacked her like he had. But not as crazy as learning that his creator was strong enough to alter someone's entire state of being. Jesus fucking Christ.

"He took from me, he gave to you," she said, her voice dull. She pressed her palm against her neck, covering the marks he'd left. They wouldn't heal as quickly as normal wounds. Thanks Loic.

"He - " Stefan began.

Ember cut him off with abrupt wave of her free hand, and he was inclined to stop only because he was still in shock. "He took. He took and he took and he took, and I tried to take back. And here we are."

Stefan regained his composure as she spoke, the emotionally charged words she spoke with empty sound resonating in his head. Rather than continue to probe his newly found blood-sibling for information, he preferred to retreat and dissect the situation on his own. "Pity," he mused, feigning a smile that didn't meet his eyes. "You made such a beautiful blonde."

"Go away, Stefan," she begged him, closing her eyes and leaning back against the wall.

This time the blonde obliged, leaving Ember alone in the hall where he found her.

Ember had often though of what she would do differently. In all the years since her death and rebirth as a Raven, she would wonder what the possibilities could have been - not only for her, but for all of her kind, had they never encountered Loic. She thought about it less frequently over the years, but her interaction with Stefan had dredged it all back up. Unpleasant men had a habit of pushing their way into her life and dominating over every aspect that was her. Even more ridiculous was the age difference - it was laughable. But because Ember's transformation was the result of a suicide, and she had attempted to let go of immortality in its earliest of grasps on her, she was forever doomed to hold a lower power threshold. Conversely, of course, her brother, as he were, had fought like a lion until the very last drop was spilled on the battlefield. And all the power of their bloodline that he so deserved was his for the taking.

She walked out of a meeting with Verity, still clearly in her own mind about all of the things that had transpired. She knew that he would not wonder if she had told them that he'd bitten her. Feeding from another vampire was a pretty large taboo, even in Midnight. It was more than just invasive - it was something else entirely. And because they shared a sire, it was even more reprehensible. He'd taken great risk on her, and for whatever reason, she could not bring herself to inform on him. He was, after all, the only family she had left. She rolled her eyes bitterly at the irony. She rounded the corner, face blank as she tried to focus on the tasks at hand for the day set forth by Verity, but it was all for naught - suddenly, she was encompassed in pain that was so all-consuming, she could not help but scream.

And scream.

And scream.

She remembered every agonizing second of Loic ripping her form from her and giving her a new one. She remembered it, and she was aware of what it felt like, and she was even more aware, at that very moment, that the same thing was happening again. She tried to cry out Loic's name, assuming it was him that was doing this, but she was in the hall totally alone. Her eyes focused and then went blurry. She felt like she was suffocating - truly, not in the existential sense, and her lungs burned as she gasped for air between pained cries. It would not relent, no matter how much she tried. Her joints felt like they were made of brittle plastic, cracking as she fell to the ground. Her veins burned.

She could see movement around her, blonde hair and a pale dress, but she couldn't focus on anything. Her ears were ringing, like she'd been exposed to a bomb, and she felt someone grabbing her, but had no control over her own body, and felt her legs go limp beneath her like a ragdoll.

"Put her down, Stefan!" Desten urged him. "She can't stand up!"

The blonde vampire glanced over his shoulder. He had been affected by whatever had just happened to Ember - to all of the vampires, it looked like - but not nearly as badly. "Yes, Desten, I can see that," he said, through clenched teeth. "Go, get someone who isn't completely incapacitated. This is much worse than the others." He watched her nod and turn to rush down the hall, and for a moment, he closed his eyes, thankful that he had trained her well enough for her loyalty to keep through something as awful as what was happening.

"No, no," Ember protested, mewing like a kitten as she tried to fight Stefan off of her. She recognized him now, and was panicking, but weak, because she was alive very suddenly. "No, let me go, please," she begged, her voice breaking with a gasp as he reached out to her face.

"I 'm here, I've got you," he said calmly, trying to soothe her. He didn't touch her face, though - he touched her hair. His fingers ran through her hair, the fine wheat-coloured strands falling back to her head in a curtain. Curiously, and at her protest, he moved his hand to the back of her neck, and slowly tipped her head forward. "Gently, gently," he murmured, trying to ease her as he silently processed what he was seeing. The feathers at the back of her neck were snowy-white.

"It seems, Ember, that you are no longer a vampire. And no longer a Raven," he told her. He let her take his words in, her confusion and panic stayed only by shock for the moment. Idly, he wondered if he should kill her. Right then. He could, you know. Kill her. He held her face in his hands, and she held onto his forearms, slumped there against the ground like some fallen god. He could crush her.

"Brother," she whispered. "Help me, please."

His hands tensed, ready to snap her neck. But her words struck him - something deep, long buried and almost forgotten. Brother. He looked at her, into her massive amber eyes, wide with fear and pain and - something. He tried to force his hands to move, but found that he could not.

"They're down here," he heard Desten saying, her voice coming down the hall. "This way, please hurry."

Stefan released Ember very suddenly, unable to hide the shake that inhabited his hands. "I've got her," he said, not bothering to look back at where they were coming from. "I've got her," he said again, this time more quietly. His hands shook slightly as Ember grabbed for them, trying to move away from the people who were attempting to help her. "It's okay, it's okay," he urged.

She said something that Desten could not hear, then, but whatever it was, it caused Stefan a significant pause. He looked over at Desten, then dismissed her. She watched as her Master went down the hall with the Captain of the Raven guard, both of them now thoroughly without immortality. She watched, and she wondered. But not too much - Master didn't like her to be nosy.