Work Text:
Single version (Aly)
When the vampires came to Dún Cuinn, Isla hid, but still watched them arrive in waves.
They were everywhere, from the streets to the roof of the houses, slaughtering every armed man they met on their way.
Isla had listened to them organizing the defence and had thought they were stupid for wanting to fight the vampire army instead of surrender. What could they do against them? Nothing. It was stupid to fight them, but everyone in that city was stupid.
She was kinda happy to see them all die, if she was going to be honest. Such idiots didn't deserve to live.
Her eyes were captured by one of the vampires that were fighting in the street.
He was beautiful, that's the first thing she noticed. Long black hair, tight dark clothes, a very big sword in his hands. He was smiling sadistically while cutting in half every human he found on his way.
Isla had heard the name of the vampire at the head of the army that was coming for them.
The Blackheart. That had to be him.
She stared in awe while he murdered people she knew since birth. She couldn't care less of them, honestly. He looked so good it was impossible to look away.
Then the wind that had been blowing since sunset hit him. He wasn't affected, of course, Isla doubted a thunderstorm could move him.
She saw his hair move around his head like they were alive, though, forming a black halo around him.
That's when it hit her. The awareness that she would have killed for him. She would have betrayed for him.
What she was seeing was a god and she would have worshipped him forever.
***
Duet version (Aly & Val)
When the vampires came to Dún Cuinn, Isla hid like everyone else who was not prepared to fight. Still, she watched them, peeking around the corner, hoping they wouldn’t notice her or smell her scent carried by the strong winds, hoping that her curiosity and fascination wouldn’t get her killed.
They arrived in waves, thrallswords first, then the highbloods who had been bombarding the city with boulders half the size of the house she had lived her whole life in, crushing everything underneath them. The stones plummeting from the sky had destroyed her home too.
They were everywhere, from the streets to the roofs of the few still standing houses, slaughtering every armed man they met on their way. Isla had listened to the ones who had survived the first waves organizing the defense, and had thought they were stupid for even thinking of fighting the vampire army instead of surrendering. What could they do against them? Nothing. It was useless to fight them, but no one in this city had any common sense.
If she was going to be honest, she didn't mind them dying. People like them were a waste of space in her opinion, and she doubted her feelings would change even if they had been kind to her.
Taking a careful peek around the corner again, her eyes were captured by one of the vampires fighting in the street, though calling that massacre a “fight” was very generous.
He was beautiful, unnaturally so, that's the first thing she noticed about him. Long black hair, tight dark clothes and a greatcoat of the deepest blue flowing in the wind along with his hair. His eyes were an entrancing abyss, and in his hand he held a massive sword, larger than she had ever even imagined would be possible, drenched in the blood of everyone she knew and loved.
He was smiling sadistically while cutting down every human he found on his way, blood coating him as he bisected an unarmed man standing right in front of him. She should have been horrified, yet fear or disgust was far from the strongest of her feelings at that very moment.
The Dyvoks had conquered nearly all of Ossway in under two years, Dún Cuinn being one of the only larger cities still standing, so far spared from being destroyed. Isla had heard the name of the vampire leading the army that was coming for them too eventually, and she had wondered who and how he was; all she knew were the tales of his cruelty and power that were often whispered among scared residents and refugees from conquered duns.
The Blackheart, they named him. The vampire she was looking at couldn’t be anyone but him. All of him, from the timeless beauty to the obvious supernatural strength, said he was the leader of the army that was so effortlessly destroying everything in his path.
She stared in awe while he murdered people she knew since birth. At that moment she couldn't care less of them. He was stunning, so much that it was impossible for Isla to keep her eyes off him.
The wind that had been blowing since the sun set hit him head on as he was standing on one of the rooftops. He wasn't affected, of course, Isla doubted even a storm could move him a centimeter in any direction.
She saw strands of his gorgeous jet black, yet also blood stained, hair fly around him as if they were alive, forming a black halo around his head, like he was an angel. A fallen angel.
Her fallen angel, both her damnation and salvation.
That's when it struck her. The awareness she would do anything for this inhumanly beautiful and immensely powerful man to even look at her. Isla didn’t know how long she could fight the overwhelming desire to come out from her hiding spot and kneel before him, little regard for her life —she’d likely die anyway, and being killed by the Blackheart himself would be the best way to go. Maybe a single drop of her blood would spray far enough to land on his marble skin, a part of her touching him, even if her hands could never get the chance to caress him.
She’d be happy to die by his hand. Not only that; if she survived this night, one day she’d even be willing to die for him. Die for the monster slaughtering everyone she cared about. But maybe that was for the best, this was the change she had been wishing for after all, her escape from this miserable and boring life.
She would betray anyone for him, help him burn down her city and everyone who has ever wronged her with it, with no care for the collateral damage. She’d be willing to kill for him.
What she was seeing was a god, more worthy of worship than the one preached about in the mass every priedi, which she had been attending every week for all her life. The god of her past faith for whom she had gone on a weeks long journey with her mother as a child, merely to see an unremarkable cathedral —none of that mattered to her anymore, hell, she had secretly not cared about that for years. She knew she would be devoted to only the Blackheart for the rest of her days, everyone else be damned.
She had heard stories told about “love at first sight”, dismissing them as wishful thinking, but now she understood exactly what they were talking about. Isla was not sure if her breath was taken away by the strong wind relentlessly blasting against her face already flushed with heat —it was of no help to cool it down either and she knew it would be useless to even try, honestly— or if it was caused by the sight of the dark angel of death and destruction she couldn’t help but adore since the second her gaze fell upon him.
Even if her love wasn’t returned, she’d be happier than ever to just exist beside him. To serve him, that’s what she wanted the most. And around that corner she walked. No fear. Only love.
The eternal dour rain in her world had finally dried, the clouds blown away by the brutal winds. After the tempest, the only thing left in the midnight sky was a rainbow of pure crimson.
She had never seen anything more beautiful in her life.
