Chapter Text
"Do you ever miss your past life ? I mean, you know, back when you were human."
Nandor stops in his tracks, a single eyebrow raised. Behind him Guillermo seems to try and play his nervousness off, eyes glued to the bookshelf he was busy dusting.
"What did you just say ?" asks the vampire despite having heard him just fine, taken aback by how out of the blue the question had been.
"I...it's just..."
His familiar seems to brush it off, shaking his head.
"It's nothing. Forget it."
"No, no there will be no forgetting ! And besides, you are not a vampire, so you cannot hypnotise me or whatever-the-shit to make me forget !" protests the other, now rightfully annoyed. "And why do you care ? You were not even born, anyway."
"I know I wasn't ! I'm just curious," mumbles Guillermo, matching his tone, his back facing him. "I was talking to Nadja's doll last time and it led me to think about your ghost, and I was wondering...you know, how you might have been. And I mean, your ghost didn't exactly have your voice when he spoke so—"
"I do not like what you are implying," warns Nandor in a low voice, hands fidgeting, an odd lump forming in his throat. "All that you need to know is that I was a fearsome warrior, as I have already told you. Relentless."
And either way, why would Guillermo bother with this ? What difference would it make ? It's not like he remembers anyway, it had been so long...
"Just forget it," insists his bodyguard again, realising how tense the other had gotten. "It was a silly question, I'm sorry if it bothered you."
His voice had turned monotonous, as if he was reciting a carefully rehearsed script—he was still not looking at Nandor. Moving from the bookshelf to a vase in a swift movement, the vampire kept his eyes on his hands, watching them move mechanically, used to finding dust in the most improbable places, careful to not knock anything off.
Why was he acting like this ? So calm, so...obedient ? Was he not the one who always insisted he was no familiar anymore but some fearsome bodyguard instead ? Nothing about this conversation made sense.
"It was very silly, yes," he finally chokes out, incapable of understanding why he'd felt this way when asked such a simple question. "I will be busy tonight, so do not bother me !"
"Will you go out to hunt ? I think Nadja and Laszlo already left," Guillermo asks still, seeming genuinely interested in the other's plans, "but if you want, I think there's still the delivery guy from—"
"I am not hungry !" exclaims Nandor, fists clenched and fangs barred, a flicker of gold staining his perfectly black irises. "Why are you so loud tonight ?"
"L—noisy ? I'm not—"
Before he can even finish his sentence Nandor has crossed the door and disappeared in some other room, the loud stomping of his boots the only indication that he has not turned into a bat right away.
Guillermo blinks twice, wondering why the other had become so defensive over his words—maybe he does not like to think about his human life ? It has been long enough, and he maybe did not want to think about having been anything other than a dangerous creature of the night.
With a sigh he still wonders—had his skin been tanner ? His eyes, kinder ? Had he smiled lazily after a good meal, drenched in the sun's embrace ?
"Fuck."
He's knocked over the porcelain vase.
Fucking guy, fucking familiar, fucking bodyguard, fucking human !
Nandor was fuming, pacing thoughtlessly around his crypt, unable to calm down, his head a burning furnace, something drumming onto each side of it—had he known better, he'd have called it a migraine.
It was always like this, when he tried to think back about his life, about his time as a viceroy, as a warrior. Something like a barrier blocking him, like it wouldn't allow him to remember some parts of it.
Oh, the days of decadence were fine.
The wives ?
Fine. Peachy, even.
No, there was something else about his past days, and if he tried really hard he could almost make out something like a blurred face, a warm touch on his cheek.
But that was it.
"Nandor, my man, watch'u doing here all alone ?"
"FUCKING—Colin Robinson ?!"
"The one and only !" smiles the energy vampire, something sly in the way his mouth is stretched. "Before you try to murder me," he continues, hands raised defensively, "Gizmo sent me here. It's not like I just jovially hopped into your creepy little dungeon."
"Guillermo."
"Huh ?"
"His name is—why are you here ? Answer quick or I am eating you."
"Woah, woah there buckaroo ! My man Gizmo said he was worried about you, and that you acted strange, so he asked me to check up on you. Because, huh, Nadja and Laz—Laszlo, don't know why I keep messing that up, they both already left to hunt, and Marwa and the Djinn are fuck knows w—"
"You talk too much," groans Nandor while holding up a hand to his painful head, "wait, Marwa and the Djinn ? What about them ? Are they coming back ?"
This time Colin has the decency to start to look surprised as well, head cocked to the side.
"Yeah, Gizmo went to pick them up at the airport earlier today, but I guess you were sleeping. But that's weird, didn't he tell you about it ?"
"I don't care about where Guillermo goes, let it be an aerial port or one with boats !"
Something clicks.
"I need to find Marwa."
"Huh ? Damn, d'you already miss you two's marriage ? Because, you know, technically, in the U.S, the di—"
"Shut the fuck up Colin Robinson," growls the vampire while pushing past him, "and help me find my ex-wife !"
He turns around one last time, cape heavy and twirling around his tense body.
"And get OUT of my crypt !"
"Yeah, I mean, he has his moments, you know ? It's like, who doesn't ?" was mumbling Guillermo to the crew, the empty house a perfect occasion to hold a Talking Head. "He gets a little...depressed, and he's a little out of it, and he's snappy, and—"
He winces.
"Well, he's snappy most of the time, and—and I mean, I guess you could say that there is a melancholy to him, but right now he's just being weird. Like—look, he's not even hungry ! And the last time he ate was over two days ago, and he usually hates going on for days without eating at least a little. Or sometimes he even snacks, and we all know he isn't a snacker ! And when I asked a question he just got really closed up on himself, which, I guess I should've known better, but hey ! He made his 37 wives come back ! He won't stop berating me with stories of the battlefield ! It's not like I could've known that today he would get sad about it. Or—or a little uptight."
He throws his gloved hands in the air, eyes rolling back. Someone behind the camera asks him a question.
"Huh ? Oh, Marwa ? Yeah, the Djinn and her are back in town, they huh, they'd traveled a little since...well, since Nandor made his wishes and undid the whole Freddie debacle, you know. We exchanged letters during their little trip, she's very sweet when she's not under a spell," he smiles warmly, "but it will be the first time Nandor will see her since, and, I mean...I'm not too sure it'll go well. They're arriving in no time I think, they told me they'd just left their stuff in t—"
"GUILLERMO !"
The bodyguard spins around the couch with an inquisitive stare, looking at the vampire like he's seen a ghost.
"Yes ? I thought you didn't want to be bothered, to—"
"Don't fucking start with this, Colin Robinson told me you had retrieved my dear ex-wife Marwa from the flying port. Where is she ? Is she here ?"
"Wow, huh—" Guillermo sends a worried glance to the cameras, "you mean the—the airport ?"
"I said I did not care, I need to talk to her !"
"Okay Nandor, jeez, huh—"
"Guillermo was telling us they'd arrive anytime soon," interjects Greg the cameraman #2, something that surprises everyone in the room.
"Thank you," smiles bodyguard, "it's like he said," he continues, pointing at the crew. "Anytime now."
"Thank you Greg," mocks Nandor in a cruel tone, upper lip curled carefully, revealing a single glistening fang, "for helping weak little Guillermo. I am sure he is very turned on right now, and he really wants your penis in him !" he finally roars, making the other flinch, "no one fucking asked !"
Ding !
"That'd be them," cuts Guillermo, his voice now rough and his cheeks crimson. "I'll get them."
The vampire sends one last furious glare to the crew before following the other down the hall, fingers playing with his large ring and head still spinning painfully.
Was it a symptom of something grave ?
...was he dying ?
No, no way. Maybe he'd drank some bad blood. Or—or not fed enough. That was okay. That happened.
Voices bring him back to himself, eyes locking with the Djinn's. Something in the other man's tired stare makes him reconsider—should he really ask Marwa ? Should he confide in her ?
Was this the safe choice ?
He nearly scoffs at himself. Since when did Nandor the Relentless take time to ponder his options ? To think things through ?
He's spontaneous. That's his whole thing.
"I am happy to see you have returned safe from your travels," he hears himself say, completely unfocused. "Marwa," he smiles at her, eyes empty, "Djinn."
She must've noticed something as well, because she pushes past the rest of them to brush her hand on the side of his arm.
"You look feverish," she says simply, "I did not know vampires could get sick."
"I am not sick," he shoots back, sending a confused stare at Guillermo who was now frowning in worry. "I—it was probably shit blood from a shit human Guillermo brought us."
"I'm sorry," can only reply the other, looking more puzzled than anything else. "Maybe if you took a nap-nap, you'd feel better ?"
"Actually," cuts in the Djinn, "do you mind if we had a chat ? Just us three," he continues, pointing at the vampire and back to Marwa. "Nothing too tiring, but it is urgent."
"Sure," sighs Nandor who walked almost backwards into the house, growing more and more weary, briefly noticing that the floor was moving under him. "Guillermo, do you—"
He collapses.
Blackout.
"F—NANDOR ?!"
"Huh-oh, that's not too good," offers Colin who had just appeared, eyes glowing blue for a mili-second before the other's stares made him reconsider. "Heh, I'll leave you to it..."
"Okay, what the fuck is going on ? He—he's been acting weird since earlier today, is this linked to you guys ?" asks Guillermo with worry as he kneels down to the vampire, looking up to the two newcomers who share a glance.
"Could be," admits the Djinn with a frown, "could be something else entirely, who's to say, really."
"Could you not—could you not start with riddles ?! What did you want to tell him ? Why is he—"
His right hand had wandered on his master's forehead.
"Why the hell is he burning up ? I'm not even sure vampires can do that !"
Marwa leans down next to him, laying a gentle hand on the nape of his neck, warm. Comforting.
"I don't understand, did he make another wish ? Is that even possible ? Did something fucking go wrong ? You've got to tell me because I—"
"My my my, you look very worried for someone who left that chap almost four times," Laszlo barges in, unannounced, his wife to his side. "Now, why the fuck is Nandor lying on the floor like a fucking Persian rug ?"
He snorts quietly at his own joke, coughing as if to gain composure again.
"Because I say, my darling, he looks quite unwell."
"By the way he's all whimpering like a wet street cat, I'd say he's having a tough one, yes," agrees Nadja, although her voice is oddly soft. "I see you two are back," she then adds, nodding to Marwa. "Who do I eat, then ?"
"No one will be eaten, this is not our fault," sighs the Djinn, lying just a little. "Look, we probably need to move him, the floor is not ideal. I take the feet, you take the head," he informs Laszlo, flicking his own glasses up in a quick gesture, "where can he be laid ?"
"I don't remember agreeing," mumbles the other vampire, nonetheless going to pick his passed out roommate up, "there's a big sofa in the fancy room. That should do it. Alright then. On the count of three..."
"Please come with me, Guillermo," whispers Marwa to him at the same time, her hand moving to his as she quietly leads him to another room, not even sure as to where she was going.
Somehow, they end up the kitchen, room almost empty save for the recently bought fridge and microwave, the former barely filled with any food. There are two chairs and a table in the middle of the room, yet unused.
"You need to sit, yes ?"
"I think I'm going to lose my mind," can only answer the other one as he does so, eyes wide and body slightly shaking. "Nothing makes sense, you come back and immediately he's—"
"Breathe, azizam, he is going to be okay. He's not going to die, he's a vampire, yes ?" she simply reminds him, her hand on his knees as she crouches by his side. Her thumb is mindlessly soothing down his thigh. "I understand your panic. You care about him. Right ?"
Guillermo scoffs roughly, throat tight and eyes shining as he holds a hand in front of his face.
Care ? That was an understatement. It was such an understatement that it makes him feel fucking sick.
"I—it doesn't matter," he sighs, shaking his head a little. "I suppose it's good karma for you."
"Good karma ?"
"Well, you know...you should be angry at him," he offers, sniffing. "And huh, at me. For enabling him."
Marwa's eyebrows shoot up, wide eyes wider even, and the ghost of a smile seems to shape her lips.
"Oh, you mean, for turning me into your little boyfriend ? Making me forget about who I am ? His needs dictating mine ? Or maybe, bringing me back to life in an entire new world, alone almost, for the sole purpose of filling his un-beating heart ?"
"'s'not my boyfriend anymore," utters the other, then adding, "I'm sorry he did this. You...you didn't deserve a minute of it."
A beat.
"I didn't want to discuss it over letters," he continues, "you're different from the brainwashed version he made you become. So I...kind of wanted to discover the real Marwa, you know ? The one he knew. Fuck, I...I'm sorry. For everything. I am."
She shakes her head, eyes closed, mindlessly drawing a chair for herself as she scoops near him again.
"And you ?"
"Me ?"
"Aren't you angry ? The Djinn told me, you know. For your b—ex-boyfriend, after I was turned back. That was cruel what Nandor did to you, too."
He shrugs, avoiding her stare.
"Guess so. No, I mean—of course I'm fucking angry. I had something for myself and I guess that he just couldn't—he couldn't let me have this one thing and he gets it for himself as well and I wanted to leave but...I think what made me even angrier, is that it just made me realize that I could never be normal again, you know ? I—nevermind. Doesn't matter, I'm not gonna bore you with this. You guys just came back, are you hungry ? There's not much for us humans but I guess I can order or—"
"Guillermo," Marwa softly says, tone oddly assertive. "Do speak your mind. You do not bore me, I brought you apart from the others so we could have that talk. Take a breath."
He brushes a hand through his hair, allowing some curls to fall apart from his gelled up locks.
Then, he swallows.
"I just, I...I wanted that life. I came here willingly, I wanted to be a vampire, that was, like, my ultimate life goal. But in London there was this...this weird feeling of normalcy, and it was quiet and nice that I didn't have to pick up and bury corpses. Well. Not as many, at least. I woke up in Freddie's flat and he made us breakfast and I baked and we went on dates—actual dates, to the movies, we shared foods, it was so...kind ? In a sense. Life was kind. And I thought, maybe that's what I want in the end. You know ? Normal human stuff. Maybe I'd grown old, I don't know. Got jaded of the adrenaline, the blood, the bodies..."
He stops, takes in a breath. He does not dare look at the other one.
"But then we came back here, with baby Colin. And immediately I realised that I had missed that weird fucking thrill. Like...it's like that post-workout pain you get when you get up the day after. It's—it's painful, but it's addictive. So you come back for more. And....and I knew Freddie would never...could never—"
"Oh, azizam..."
"I'm...messed up, know I am, and I know I keep trying to pretend I'm not, and that I should hate Nandor, and I did, I wanted to kill him, Marwa, I fucking hated him, I wanted to stare into his dead eyes and stab him a hundred times but when he—when he collapsed just now I—I couldn't—"
"It's okay," she whispers as she holds him, her chin on his shoulder, hands tracing slow circles on his back as she feels the sobs shake his body. "It will all be okay."
"I want to be by his side so bad it makes me sick," cries Guillermo, barely louder, "it's like it's above me, I need to be with him, no matter whatever fucked up shit he pulls, and—and—"
"And soon enough, you will find out why," Marwa murmurs, pulling back a little, holding his face in her hands, her eyes searching for his. "He is going to wake up, eventually. But then, it's going to be very hard for you both, you need to know this, okay ?"
"...what do you mean ? "
"He is going to need a little time. He...needs a little time. To understand. To...to process. It has only been 760 years."
Guillermo can't tell if she is joking or not.
He feels warm.
He feels warm and sweaty and gross, which is weird, really, because vampires usually do not have enough blood in their bodies, to actually feel warm. They are always characteristically freezing, kind of like corpses, so why the fuck does he feel like he is going to suffocate from all that heat ?
After doing a second take he realizes his entire body hurts as well, sore muscles all over from his wrists to his legs, a disagreeable feeling of entrapment overtaking him.
Open your eyes, come on.
Open...
"OPEN THAT FUCKING DOOR !" roars a man's voice, right before a loud BANG ! is heard all over the room, immediately followed by other loud and high pitched noises and Nandor suddenly feels profoundly exhausted.
A silence.
"Ah. Did I wake you up ?"
He's gotten up in the meantime, eyelids still halfway shut, face scrunched up due to the sudden pool of light that has surrounded him and the newcomer, tasting sweet liquor on his heavy tongue.
"Huh."
"Just so you know, no one could find you, so they worried you'd gotten captured or something and sent me here," explains the other without stopping, his footsteps indicating that he was walking around. "But no. You were just taking a fucking nap."
"Yeesh. Why do you swear so much," he hears himself say, right before opening his eyes wide, blinking a few times to adjust himself to the bright glow, "and why are you so lou..."
The other man turns around, kind but tired amber eyes locking into his own.
And suddenly Nandor finds himself facing an almost perfect copy of Guillermo, his Guillermo, dressed up as some Al Qolnidari general.
"Huh ?"
"Yeah, huh, is there anything else you can say ? Anything but onomatopoeias ?"
"Who the fu..."
"Taher !"
Marwa.
"You've found him !" exclaims his wife who'd walked in hurriedly, a reassured sigh escaping her lips. "Everyone was very anxious, eshgham. Is it the campaign that drained you of your energy ?"
Oh...my love.
She's just said, and he'd recognized it, eshgham.
That was not English. That was his mother tongue.
But he was not supposed to remember Al Qolnidarese. He had not been able to understand his ghost ! So how...?
"I'm fine," he lies, and in just a second he's sprung on his feet. "You can leave," he tells his wife, gesturing her to make way, and fast. "I'll join you soon, maybe."
"Try to find out what is wrong with him," is the most of what he can make of Marwa's words to the soldier, realising that his hearing is nowhere near as good as it should be.
Instinctively he runs his tongue, warm as well he notes, over his teeth.
Blunt.
(Well, he's always had kind of sharps canines, even as a human, but nothing comparable to his fangs.)
He glances at the open rays of sunlight that pour from the tall windows, walking up to them almost shyly.
When his hand turns gold under its shine he finally notices his tan skin and the different rings on his fingers. Silver.
So he just stares, mouth slightly agape.
"It's not like it rained earlier," remarks the man called Taher, the same cat-like smile as Guillermo plastered on his lips. "What, did you miss the sun that bad ?"
"...guess I did," admits Nandor, and technically it's not a lie. He'd forgotten how it felt like, how it looked like. "I was sleeping and you woke me up. How dare you ?"
"Yes, well, my bad," snickers the other who doesn't seem sorry at all. "Did you drink all that by yourself ?" he asks then, gesturing at an adorned porcelain vase that was sat besides an empty glass. "You could've shared a little."
"I do not see why," mumbles his viceroy as he sits at the low table, legs crossed. "Give me that."
"Hm ? What ? The pomegranate ?"
"What else ? Come on, I am hungry and not in the mood to play games."
Taher only raises his eyebrow, unimpressed and the other can't help but notice that he has the exact same crease above it than Guillermo, with the only exception that a small scar sits on his.
"No."
"The fuck do you mean, 'no' ?! I am your—I am your viceroy, and if I tell you to give me that fruit then—"
"Fucking guy. You make us all worry, and then when I find you doing what knows what, apparently, taking a nap, and you ask to be fed ? No, doesn't work like that."
"I shall have your hands and tongue cut for your impudence !"
"Do you even know what that word means ? Bismillah," laughs Taher, popping a seed in his own mouth, savoring the taste, the same insolent smile on his face. "They're good, by the way."
"Give me that," growls the viceroy as he gets up again, legs weak and almost buckling—what was happening to him ? "Give—in ra be man bedahid !"
"Na, aram shoo aziztarinam," jokes the other walking away from him, still looking at him in the eyes.
A pause.
"What did you just call me ?"
Ouch, a déjà-vu, winces Nandor.
"Uhm—aziztarinam ?"
Taher's expression turns somber, as if he suddenly felt deeply self-conscious. His smile falters as his eyes darken. The hand that was holding the fruit falls back at the side of his body, a little limp. He looks around uncomfortably, not paying attention to the other anymore.
"Bebakhshid," he mutters, "I overste—"
"Ah-HA !" immediately exclaims the older one who'd used the other's distraction to walk towards him and grab the fruit out of his hand, "not so smart now, are you ?"
A blink.
"Oskol—"
"Hey ! I understood that ! Enough, I shall now feast with no more of your swearing. You do that a lot, you know ? Bismillah."
Nandor frowns as he allows himself to taste food for the first time in seven centuries, chewing very carefully and nearly moaning at the sensation; it's sweet and it bursts in his mouth, red, yes, but nothing comparable to blood.
It's not as warm, sure, but it's far more pleasant, far more delicate.
When his eyes open again, Taher is staring right at him, something else entirely dancing in his irises. His lower lip is still faintly tainted red.
"It's all over your face," states Nandor, licking the side of his own hand where some of the crimson juice had made its way, following the line of his veins. "Do you want ? More ?" he asks then, holding the fruit in his stained hand, the right, not breaking eye contact.
There's a beat, an hesitation as their breaths seem to synchronize, and he can hear his heartbeat ringing loudly in his ears.
"Sure I do," can only whisper the soldier, lacing their hands and cupping Nandor's face. "Allow me ?"
"Allowed."
They kiss with a single pomegranate seed shared, and he finds its taste to be even more delectable with a soft mouth against his and a burning tongue tracing its corners. His eyes are closed, and he feels at peace.
When he awakes again, it's pitch black, and he's freezing.
The smell of dust is the first thing he notices.
And then, the faint glow of the candles.