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“so. three days?” owen asks as they stand in the doorway of louis’s home. the sound of oakhurst’s hustle and bustle leaks inside, but it barely bursts the bubble that the two have created for themselves. owen hasn’t even pulled his hood up over his face, and he looks smaller than usual with the excess fabric bunching up over his shoulders.
“three days,” louis agrees with a nod. his smile turns nervous, almost self-conscious. He begins to twirl some of his hair around his finger, a nervous fidget that he picked up a few centuries ago. “I just need to finish some paperwork and settle my affairs first so that we won’t be bothered during the… ahem, adjustment phase. though -,” he clears his throat, forcing his smile to widen as he glances away, “- it should also give you time to think more deeply on my offer. should you change your mind, I won’t be upset at all. I’ll accept whatever –”
owen interrupts him with a kiss on the cheek. louis sucks in a breath he doesn’t even need out of pure surprise. he’s well-fed enough that blush rises to his cheeks. he blinks twice and returns his gaze to owen, who has pulled his chin down and seems to be trying to hide himself in his cloak. louis can see the tips of his ears burning bright red.
“I’m not gonna change my mind, lou. I’ve thought enough about this, and I’m sure of my decision. you have to trust that this is what I want, alright?” owen grumbles. louis can hear him perfectly clear thanks to his vampiric hearing, though. his unmoving heart swells up with warmth at the words. behind that gruff demeanor owen likes to hide behind, he really is just a sweetheart.
louis laughs softly. “alright, alright. I’ll stop hounding you about it. I’ll start looking forward to it instead, hm?” at that, owen’s ears get even redder, and louis can’t help but coo at him. soon, he’ll have the rest of eternity to bring out that bashfulness. it was so exciting.
“wh – whatever.” owen throws his hood up quickly. the shadows hide his face, but not before louis can make out the tiny, pleased smile that he wore. “I’ll just keep myself busy and – and settle my own affairs, I suppose. can’t let you do all the work now, can we?”
louis waves him goodbye and remains leaning against the door-frame to watch owen’s figure get smaller and eventually disappear into the crowd. a few standersby give him an odd look, but he pays them no mind. however the townsfolk feel about owen is irrelevant. louis loves oakhurst, yes, but even he can admit that the town can be… quick to judge. there’s a reason it’s taken him this long to find someone to be so close to, after all.
sighing fondingly, he returns inside and closes the door behind him. time to start on that paperwork.
.
.
.
.
.
louis wakes up and immediately knows something is wrong. it’s the third day; all of his work has been finished, guaranteeing him and owen a full month of uninterrupted sire-fledgling bonding. the town councilmen have been informed of his intent to go on a ‘holiday’ and should be more than capable of handling the town in his absence. louis did not typically sleep, however he had wanted to be at as full strength as possible for when he gave owen the bite. that was the only reason he retired to his seldom used bedchambers.
he’s regretting that decision now. there’s something deeply wrong. an odd pressure around the room that makes his stomach swoop uncomfortably.
there’s silver in his house. why is there silver in his house? how?
hearing heart beats, he quickly gets out of bed and makes his way downstairs. he’s made deeply uneasy by the sight of three altar boys in his living room. they’re all in their sunday bests, squished together as they tried to peek out of his windows all at the same time. he walks too quietly for them to hear him, so he takes advantage of being unnoticed to take a quick look around.
a bible lay open on a table. candles and incense that were not his were burning in every corner of the room. all three boys were clutching silver rosaries in their hands, and they all look quite disturbed. louis himself is not particularly hateful of the church the way he knew many of his kind were, and he held a soft spot for the children, specifically, so he can’t help but feel concern for them.
he clears his throat. “pardon me, little ones. what are you doing in my home?”
the three jump and skitter away from the window. louis catches a brief flash of orange but little else as they slammed his shutters. the uneasy feeling in his stomach grows stronger.
“s – sir mayor! we’ve been sent here by the reverend to protect and watch over you!” the eldest of the boys says. his face is afraid but determined. afraid of what, though?
“I’m afraid I don’t understand. protect me from what?” he asks gently. in another situation, on another day, he might find humor in the church going out of their way to protect a creature of the night.
the youngest boy steps up and holds out his rosary. louis covers up his grimace with a confused expression. “a witch! a witch has been casting hexes on you, mayor louis!”
a witch?
“reverend father investigated his shack while he was out in the woods, and found occult instruments and evidence of witchcraft,” the third boy says. “everyone knows he’s been occupying your time more and more and getting you alone with him for hours at a time. missus smith even saw him mark you just a few days ago, before your meeting with the mining leader.”
a few days ago? but the only person he spoke with before that meeting was…
“are you talking about owen?” louis asks. his heart sinks at their vehement nods. for a second, he’s speechless. his owen, being accused of witchcraft? being accused of hexing him? it’s laughable – or it would be, if only the boys didn’t look so severe and serious about it. “boys, that’s nonsense. owen is no witch and he’s done nothing to wrong me. now –“
“that’s exactly what reverend father warned us you’d say!” the eldest speaks up again. his voice turns pleading. “please, mayor louis – the witch has gotten into your mind. he’s twisting your thoughts!”
“owen has done nothing of the sort!” louis can’t help but snap. he’s already well aware of how the general populace of oakhurst views his precious owen, but to go as far as to accuse him of witchcraft is just too much. louis begins to move towards the front door. he has a mind to march right into the church and hoist the reverend by his collar. he is not a man of violence, but he wasn’t afraid to shake some good sense into someone. this whole thing is absurd.
the altar boys move as one to block his door. they put up their rosaries. “mayor louis, please!” the youngest begs. “you must stay inside until the witch has been taken care of! who knows what kind of black magic he can send on the wind your way?”
louis pauses and tilts his head. that sinking feeling in his stomach has turned into sharp spikes stabbing into him. “what do you mean by taken care of?”
the boys hesitate just a second too long for his taste. pushing them aside is only as hard as turning a page in a book, though he’s still careful not to hurt them with his strength. he ignores their calls for him to return as he walks briskly down the street. it’s strangely empty of people, but he can hear a loud bustle and shouting further towards the town square. that, and he can smell smoke – he can see it rising above the buildings, right above where an orange light grows brighter.
his steps quicken as realization sets in until he’s sprinting down the path to the town center. he skids to a stop once he comes upon what he was so afraid to see: a burning pyre standing nearly as tall as a building, surrounded by a mob of his townsfolk jeering and holding weapons. horror floods him like a silver anchor in his belly. he uses his vampiric swiftness to weave between the crowd, not going fully unnoticed if the gasps and shouts of his name are anything to go by, but he doesn’t care. he needs to get closer and make sure that what he thought he was seeing wasn’t really true.
he’d be horrified if the people of his town burnt anyone at the stake, but – but if it really, truly is owen, then – then –
he stops once he breaks through the front of the crowd. it’s hot here, the heat of the giant pyre coming off incredibly strong. if he was able to, he is certain he would be breaking out in a sweat due to the heat alone. the bright light of the flames makes it a little painful to look directly at, but he finds he’s unable to tear his eyes away for one reason and one reason alone.
sitting atop the wood and tied to the pyre with flames licking up his torso is owen. owen, who is writhing in his binds and screaming through the cloth gag tied around his jaw. owen, who is still alive but actively dying in front of him.
a scream is torn out of louis’s lungs.
no.
no, no, no.
no no no no no no –
their eyes meet. he knows owen sees him by the fact that owen quits struggling. owen’s eyes become somehow even bigger as he stares down at louis. louis doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know what to do. loathe as he is to take his eyes off his love, he casts about frantically for the nearest person – and he lands on none other than the reverend father.
he leaps forwards and grabs the reverend by the collar of his vestment, yanking him close to growl in his face, “get him down this instant!”
the reverend simply narrows his eyes. those same eyes trail down louis’s face, where he knows his fangs must be jutting out. “the witch has truly been making a beast of you, hasn’t he louis?” is all the reverend says.
for a long moment, louis is consumed with the thought of tearing the reverend’s throat out with his teeth. he thinks about gouging out the reverend’s eyes with his claws, about cutting him open from tip to top and letting his guts fall to the floor. he thinks about wrenching his limbs out of their sockets and crushing his skull beneath the heel of his boot.
louis does none of these things. he drops the reverend to the ground and stumbles back, eventually falling to his knees as he hears the pop and crackle of the pyre’s burning intensify. he wants to kill the reverend so badly. he hasn’t wanted to kill anyone since he was just a two century fledgling. he wants to kill the reverend so badly.
he turns his gaze back to owen on the pyre. he thinks about jumping into the flames himself and pulling owen free. about biting him right there on the pyre and then dragging him to safety.
he can’t. he knows that. he knew that as soon as he ran upon the scene. it was too late from the moment he woke up – the flames are much too high. even if he did jump in – even if the reverend did agree to take him down – owen would never survive the burns. louis could bite him, try to turn him, but the chances of it working were slim to none. fire is, after all, one of a vampire’s strongest weaknesses. even as a fledgling, owen wouldn’t be able to survive this.
there’s no saving him. there’s no saving his owen.
his precious is burning at the stake for the crime of being doted on by louis, and all louis can do is sit there and watch.
there’s an expression on owen’s face that louis can’t quite make out. the distance and extreme lighting of the fire makes his face hard to see clearly. he knows owen is still staring at him though, and this time, louis refuses to look away. he owes owen that much.
that expression…
is that hope?
is owen hoping for louis to help him?
louis sits there. he knows that no one could hear the litany of apologies that rained from his mouth over the roaring of the fire. everyone could hear as owen’s screams picked up again through his gag when the flames crawled up to his chest.
louis sits there. he watches and watches and watches. unblinking, unmoving.
The flames continue roaring long after the screaming stops.