Gwydion’s Lair
Staring out the window at the ever-gloomy outside, Fiona couldn’t help losing more and more faith in her decision. It had been weeks, maybe even months, since she had had been taken from her family and was brought here, yet, she still didn’t have the first clue where ‘here’ even was. Not the town, not the county, not even the continent or even realm. They could be anywhere, really.
The sky was a perpetual shade of charcoal, with clouds that seemed to hang low, pressing down on the world with their weight. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and decaying leaves, a constant reminder of the life she had left behind.
Saving her grandfather from the claws of a powerful, evil mage had sounded like something she wanted to do at the time, heroic and strong, but as time passed, she realized the everyday version of this new life felt everything but heroic. She missed her family. Occasionally, Gwydion would allow her down the catacombs to see her grandfather Caelan, who was largely incapacitated, and it was hard to tell if he even acknowledged her presence at all. She wanted to touch him, hug him, even though he had never been a very emotional type, anything would do now, but Gwydion only allowed brief visits through the metal bars of Caelan’s prison.
The initial arrival at Gwydion’s home had been disorienting. Inside, the place was a labyrinth of shadows and whispers, where the walls seemed to pulse with a life of their own. Outside, the dense, ever-present fog clung to everything, muffling sounds and distorting shapes. It was a strange, hard-to-describe place, she couldn’t even begin to guess where he had taken her, the location remained a mystery, which Fiona had only been able to see bits and pieces of in the fog. The house seemed ancient, with many underground passages that never seemed to lead anywhere, especially not outside into freedom. One time she managed to get out, started running, but the dense fog seemed to carry Gwydion’s voice, asking if she was sure she wanted to do this, leaving her grandfather to his certain demise, by breaking the agreement. Defeated, she returned.
She had feared that Gwydion would be some monster, would hurt her, beat her, but he had done none of those things. Barely ever present, even though she could feel his magic all around her, he had come to her chamber a few times. The first time she was scared stiff, and while he wasn’t exactly gentle and loving, it wasn’t as bad as she had feared. Three times he had come to her to perform the act that should bring him a child. Each time leaving her emptier than the one before, asking herself what she was even hoping for. A fast pregnancy so she could return home? Part of her hoped to be barren, maybe then he would just return her and demand someone else to do this dirty task. Something told her it would never play out like that. Another part of her couldn’t even believe any of this was real. She had grown up like a modern-day girl, mortal for the most part until she rejoined her vampiric roots very recently, still barely past the basic training to be part of the fanged community before Gwydion’s demand had torn her away from her family, so all of this seemed outdated and almost ridiculous to her, more the stuff nightmares and bad horror movies were made of. But for her it was part of being born into an occult family. Try as they might, they were not human and it always caught up with everyone, sooner or later. As a vampire, the one thing you had plenty of was time.
The darkness of the realm seeped into her bones, a cold that no fire could chase away. The silence was oppressive, broken only by the occasional distant wail or the rustle of unseen creatures. The very air seemed to hum with dark magic, a constant reminder of Gwydion’s power and her own helplessness. Fiona’s heart ached with a longing for the warmth and light of her former life, a life that seemed more like a distant dream with each passing day.
One day, everything changed. Emerging from the ensuite bathroom, Fiona found a package on her bed. Inside was a dress, old-fashioned like everything she wore here, but this one breathtakingly elaborate. Her old clothing had vanished, and when she asked Gwydion about it, he was tight-lipped, telling her she wouldn’t be needing them anymore. A handwritten note in hard-to-decipher, archaic penmanship demanded, “Wear this.”
She complied, slipping into the dress, which felt like stepping into another era.
The moment she arrived downstairs Gwydion was already waiting, led her outside, mounted his horse, pulling her onto it. The thundering hooves echoed through the ancient town, a labyrinth of cobblestone streets and towering, ivy-clad buildings that seemed to whisper secrets of centuries past. Lanterns flickered with an eerie, otherworldly glow, casting long shadows that danced along the walls.
They dismounted, and Gwydion tied up the horse before pulling her along towards what Fiona could only guess was the town center. The air was thick with the scent of roasted meats and spiced wine, mingling with the faint, metallic tang of blood that only she could detect. The sounds of laughter and music filled the air, a stark contrast to the oppressive silence of Gwydion’s domain.
Fiona’s heart raced with a mix of excitement and trepidation as she clung to Gwydion’s arm. The feast was a rare opportunity to escape the suffocating gloom of her new life, and she couldn’t help but feel a spark of hope. Maybe, just maybe, Gwydion had changed. Maybe he was beginning to see her as more than just a tool.
“Please, Gwydion,” she begged, her eyes wide with anticipation. “Let’s dance. Just for a moment. Please, please, please, …”
She reached for his hand, her fingers trembling with a mixture of fear and excitement. For a brief second, she thought she saw a flicker of something in his eyes—something almost human. But it vanished as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by a cold, demeaning smirk.
“We’re not here to dance,” he said, his voice dripping with disdain. He yanked his hand away, the force of it nearly knocking her off balance. “You’re a vampire, aren’t you?” His eyes gleamed with a cruel amusement as he shoved her towards the center of the feast. “So feast, vampire.”
Fiona stumbled forward, her heart sinking as the reality of her situation crashed down on her. The townspeople, oblivious to her inner turmoil, continued their revelry, their laughter and music now sounding hollow and mocking. She could feel the dark urges rising within her, the primal urge to feed that she had fought so hard to suppress. The scent of blood was intoxicating, calling to her, but she resisted, clinging to the remnants of her humanity.
She had never hunted for blood before. Always, she had relied on plasma packs and blood conserves, carefully rationed and devoid of the thrill of the hunt. Now, surrounded by potential prey, she felt utterly lost. Her senses were overwhelmed by the myriad of heartbeats, the rush of blood just beneath the surface of warm skin. She didn’t even know where to begin.
Fiona’s hands shook as she tried to steady herself, her fangs aching with the need to feed. She glanced back at Gwydion, hoping for some sign of mercy, but his expression was one of cold satisfaction. He had no intention of helping her. This was a test, a cruel initiation into the darker aspects of her new existence.
Desperation clawed at her as she moved through the crowd, trying to ignore the gnawing thirst. She bumped into a young man, his laughter dying as he looked at her with concern. “Are you alright?” he asked, his voice gentle.
Fiona’s throat tightened. She could hear the blood rushing through his veins, smell the warmth of his life force. Her instincts screamed at her to feed, but her humanity held her back. “I’m fine,” she whispered, forcing a smile. “Just… a bit overwhelmed.”
The man nodded, offering her a reassuring smile before moving on. Fiona watched him go, her heart heavy with the knowledge that she couldn’t keep this up forever. The darkness of the realm seeped into her bones, a cold that no fire could chase away. The silence was oppressive, broken only by the occasional distant wail or the rustle of unseen creatures. The very air seemed to hum with dark magic, a constant reminder of Gwydion’s power and her own helplessness.
Caught between her old humanity and the vampire occult, Fiona felt a constant pull in two directions. Her senses were heightened, the scent of blood often tantalizingly close, yet she clung to the remnants of her human emotions. The taste of food, the warmth of a human touch, these were memories that haunted her, making her question her choice to be turned again. The vampire world was seductive, with its promises of power and immortality, but it was also a world of darkness and isolation. Fiona was trapped in the twilight, neither fully human nor fully vampire, struggling to find her place in a realm that demanded she choose one side or the other.
But the urges were getting stronger. No matter how well any vampire adjusted to the life of the mortals, blending in, eating human foods, sleeping in beds, there was still the undeniable darker side, the urge for blood. The longer they went in between feedings, the harder the urges became to control, harder yet for the inexperienced vampires, like Fiona. With her senses heightened, and not having had any true sustenance in at least weeks, if not months, Fiona was losing the inner battle with each person bumping into her. She stood stiffly, unable to move, unable to retain one clear thought, blinded by the need to feed, her urges gaining the upper hand. The thumping of dozens of heartbeats pumping the blood she craved so badly through their hosts’ bodies, yet no alternatives to feed available, nobody to teach her how to hunt properly, the inevitable happened. Fiona blacked out.
When she came to, she was sitting on the ground, back against the cold, hard stones of a building, couldn’t remember what happened, she felt as if she woke from a trance when suddenly a familiar pair of shoes and dark trousers entered her view. Dazed, she looked up at Gwydion, looking down at her with an unreadable expression, before smirking.
“Did I … faint or something?” she wondered, discombobulated, her mind still foggy and hazy, clearing up fast when Gwydion only laughed, a cold, harsh and gleeful sound.
“Impressive. Who knew you were a real vampire after all. Look around you …” he said in his raspy tone, while extending his hand out to her. Fiona extended hers to take his, but when he helped her up she noticed the dark stains on her hand, on the sleeves of her dress. Upon closer inspection she realized they were blood!
Startled, she looked at Gwydion, who pointed his chin behind her. She turned to find a massacre. With a scream, she stepped back, right into the dark mage, who held her head, not allowing her to turn away or even as much as avert her gaze.
“Look at it! Look! Observe the true nature of your kind! THIS is how powerful you could be. Embrace it. Live it. Love it! Embrace your rite of passage to being a real vampire,” he pressed the horrified girl, but Fiona started crying, trying to break away from him, but he slapped her hard till she fell to the ground.
Holding her cheek, staring up to him in disbelief. “Why are you doing this to me? Why?”
“Vampires shouldn’t sob after doing what they were intended to do. I despise weakness! I am tired of the charades. Mortals have the upper hand, even though they are the weakest of all creatures. I want a son with your lineage, and it seems I was right after all. Your bloodline is strong, powerful. With him, I will change the world. No more hiding. Not for us.”
“You are a monster!” Fiona exclaimed.
“Maybe. But it would appear that I am not the only one.” he laughed, which put Fiona over the edge. She attacked him, fangs out, eyes narrowed, a vicious grimace, but without moving more than just his hand, he sent her backwards into a house wall, where she crashed down hard, only to scramble up and attack him again. And again, until he finally put her into a sort of sleeper hold, his voice dangerously close to her ear, his tone warning.
“Have you had enough yet? You think you have a chance against me, when your grandfather is still incapacitated in my basement? I am being very lenient with you, as you still have a very important task to complete for me, but I am done with your antics now.” With that, he pulled her along the way they had come.
Fiona’s transformation from a sweet, hesitant girl to a defiant and demanding woman was a slow burn, ignited by the constant torment and manipulation she endured under Gwydion’s control. The once timid vampire began to find her voice, her anger simmering just beneath the surface, ready to erupt.
It started subtly, with small acts of defiance. At meals, she would sit across from Gwydion, her eyes burning with silent rebellion. He would eat, savoring each bite, while she stared at the untouched food before her. “You should eat,” he would say, his voice dripping with condescension. “You need your strength.”
Fiona’s response was to pick up a piece of bread and hurl it at him. It hit him square in the chest, crumbs scattering across the table. Gwydion’s eyes narrowed, but he said nothing. She continued, tossing food at him with increasing force, her frustration boiling over. “Eat this,” she spat, throwing a piece of meat that splattered against his face.
Gwydion’s patience snapped. He lunged across the table, grabbing her by the wrist. His grip was bruising, his eyes dark with fury. For a moment, she thought he would hit her, but he stopped himself, shoving her away instead. “Enough,” he growled, his voice low and dangerous. “You don’t wish to eat, then you should go back to your private chambers!” he snarled, dragging her with, before locking her in the room. Any attempt to break out, all her banging on the door was futile, but when she woke the next morning, the door was unlocked again.
Their conflict escalated when Fiona discovered the way down to the catacombs where her grandfather was kept. She had been exploring, driven by a desperate need to find a way to free him. When Gwydion caught her, his rage was palpable. “What do you think you’re doing?” he demanded, his voice echoing off the stone walls. He tried to grab her, but she eluded him, when he tried again she fought like a wildcat.
Fiona stood her ground, her chin lifted defiantly. “I’m not afraid of you,” she said, her voice steady despite the fear that churned in her stomach. “I will find a way to free him.”
Gwydion’s laugh was cold and mocking. “You think you can defy me?” he sneered. “You are nothing but a pawn in my game. And he stays where he is!”
That night, he came to her chamber, his intentions clear. But this time, Fiona was ready. She fought him, her nails raking across his skin, her fangs bared in a snarl. “I will not be your broodmare,” she hissed, her eyes blazing with defiance.
Gwydion’s anger flared, and he grabbed her by the throat, his grip tightening. “You will give me what I want,” he snarled, his voice a dangerous whisper. “Or I will take it by force.”
Fiona’s eyes met his, unyielding. “You will have to,” she said, her voice cold and resolute. “Unless you make amends, you will never again have my willing cooperation. I will make this just as rough and unpleasant for you as it has been for me! You wanted me darker, here you go! Now deal with what you have turned me into!”
For a moment, Gwydion hesitated, his grip loosening. Seeing an opportunity, Fiona acted on instinct, leaning forward to sink her fangs into his wrist. The taste of his blood was foreign and potent, a mix of power and darkness that sent a shiver through her. Gwydion’s eyes widened in shock, and for an instant, he was too stunned to react.
Pain and anger flared in his eyes as he tore his arm away from her bite, blood dripping from the wound. “You dare,” he hissed, staring at her with a mixture of fury and surprise. He tried to slap her, but she avoided his reach, instead kicked him in his groin, folding him over for a moment with a painful groan. When he started to recover, their eyes shot daggers at each other. A standoff.
Fiona stood her ground, her heart pounding. “You wanted a dark vampire,” she retorted, her voice steady. “Now deal with what you have created. Still in the mood to create that heir you want so badly, huh? Did this turn you on, huh? Or do you want to kill me now? Go ahead, cos I am so done with all of this, and I can’t wait for what my family will unleash on you when they find out. And you definitely will never get that heir then!” she nearly spat the words out at him.
Gwydion’s snarl of frustration was visceral. He released her and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him. Fiona stood trembling but victorious, the taste of his blood still lingering in her mouth. His absence stretched for a long time, a testament to the power struggle that had begun between them.
Fiona’s defiance had sparked a change, not just in her, but in Gwydion as well. The dark mage was dangerous, but he was also conflicted, his hesitation hinting at a deeper struggle within. The battle between them was far from over, but Fiona was no longer the helpless girl she had once been. She was a force to be reckoned with, and she would not be broken.
The Unexpected Encounter
Days passed, and Gwydion remained elusive, leaving Fiona to navigate the halls of the ancient house on her own. The loneliness gnawed at her, driving her to explore further. One day, she heard a faint clinking of glass and followed the sound to a room she hadn’t been in before, always locked. The door was ajar.
Pushing it open, she found Gwydion at a table, several empty bottles strewn about, pouring himself another drink. His appearance was disheveled, his hair unkempt and clothes wrinkled, a stark contrast to his usual composed self. Relief washed over her at the sight of him. Despite everything, the isolation had been unbearable.
“Gwydion,” she said softly, stepping into the room. He looked up, his eyes bleary and unfocused.
“What do you want?” he muttered, taking another swig from his glass.
“You’ve been gone for days,” Fiona said, her voice tinged with concern. “What happened to you?”
Gwydion’s eyes flickered with something she couldn’t quite place. “Life happened. Or what’s left of it.”
Fiona’s gaze softened. She noticed a deep gash on his arm, still bleeding. “You’re hurt. Let me help.”
He hesitated, then pulled his arm away from her. “It’s nothing,” he said gruffly, trying to dismiss her concern.
Fiona wasn’t having it. She reached out again, grabbing his arm more firmly this time. “Let me see,” she insisted, her voice leaving no room for argument.
Gwydion’s eyes narrowed, a silent standoff ensuing between them. For a moment, neither of them moved, the tension crackling in the air. Finally, he relented, allowing her to inspect the wound.
Fiona moved closer, her touch gentle but determined. She grabbed the bottle of wine from his hand, sniffing it before pouring it onto the wound. Gwydion winced, a sharp intake of breath escaping his lips. She ignored his reaction, grabbing one of the folded rags by the washbowl to dry the wound and then bandage it.
As she worked, a strange sense of intimacy settled between them, an unspoken understanding. She could feel his eyes on her, watching her every move.
“Drink with me,” Gwydion said suddenly, pushing a glass towards her.
Fiona hesitated but then took it. She wasn’t much of a drinker, but the loneliness blurred her judgment. As the night wore on, both now intoxicated, the barriers between them continued to crumble. They talked, laughed, and the strange connection they had felt before resurfaced, stronger than ever.
In their intoxicated state, the line between enemy and ally blurred. Desire flared, and they gave in to the heat of the moment. It was pure, unbridled passion, raw and intense, a collision of want, need, desire and desperation.
When Fiona woke the next morning, she was startled to find herself in Gwydion’s bed. As she stirred, he awoke too, their eyes meeting. He started laughing, shaking his head as he got up. She watched him, unbothered by his unclothedness as he stepped to the corner of the room to use the piss pot. The sound of his relief filled the room, a stark reminder of his crude, ancient ways. Fiona couldn’t help but feel a mix of disgust and fascination at his nonchalance.
Finished, Gwydion walked over to the table and poured himself a drink. He took a long swig before turning to face her, unable to suppress another chuckle.
“This is funny to you?” she asked, upset.
Drinking, his eyes met hers, chuckling as he came over, offering her his cup. “Isn’t it? All this time having to bed you just lying there, waiting for me to be done, when all it took was some good wine and you turn into a Valkyrie in bed.”
“Was this a trick to get me to…oblige?” she demanded, pushing his hand holding the wine away.
Gwydion paused mid-sip, considering her words. “A trick? To what end? To get something from you which you owe me anyway? If I wanted to trick you, it would have been far more…elaborate.”
Fiona’s eyes narrowed. “Then what was it?”
Gwydion sighed and sat down on the edge of the bed, his expression uncharacteristically open. “Maybe it was just two lonely souls finding solace in each other, if only for a night. Or perhaps it was a moment of weakness. Maybe we both used each other to scratch an itch. Take your pick.”
Fiona watched him, her anger mixed with confusion. “You still haven’t really answered my question.”
Gwydion leaned in close, his breath warm against her skin. “I didn’t plan this, Fiona. But I’m not going to deny that it was…intriguing.” His eyes glinted with a mixture of amusement and something darker. “The fact that you’re questioning it shows that there’s still a part of you that clings to your humanity. That’s what makes this interesting. A true vampire wouldn’t care. They use any means imaginable to get their way, as do I. Except this time. Which only adds to the hilarity.”
Fiona’s heart pounded in her chest, a mix of fear and something else she couldn’t quite identify. She pushed him away, her voice trembling but firm. “You’re playing games with me. You think I am just some dumb girl, scared of you. But you are wrong, and I won’t let you win.”
Gwydion chuckled, leaning back, getting up, walking back to the table. “I’m not the only one playing games here. I am, however, more skilled at it, so careful, little fair maiden Fiona. But very well, have it your way.” He shrugged, pouring himself more wine, then turning back to her, toasting her, not even attempting to cover himself. Fiona didn’t know where to look, then realizing how silly that was considering what they had done together, both of them undressed. She watched him pour himself more wine. As he drank, his eyes met hers again, a challenge in his gaze. “Just remember, Fiona, every game has its rules, and only one winner. And I never engage in games I don’t fully intend on winning.”
Fiona’s mind raced, trying to decipher his words. She couldn’t deny the connection they had shared the night before, but she also couldn’t forget the darkness that lurked within him, nor all the terrible, awful things he’s put her through. She had to stay on guard, to not let her guard down again. As much as he scared, angered, appalled and upset her, she couldn’t help realizing she found him strangely alluring. Last thing she needed was to fall prey to his trickery or some occult version of Stockholm Syndrome.
Determined to test if she could unsettle him as he did her, Fiona got up, naked as well, and walked over to him. She stood close, her eyes locked on his, challenging him with her presence. Gwydion’s gaze flickered, a hint of surprise and something else—admiration, perhaps?
“Trying to play my game, are you?” he murmured, his voice low and dangerous.
Fiona’s heart raced, but she held her ground. “Maybe. Or maybe I’m just tired of being the one who’s always on the defensive. Maybe I want to see how the offense feels.”
Gwydion’s eyes darkened, a slow smile spreading across his face. “Careful, Fiona. You might find that playing with fire can get you burned. Keep offering and I might just take you up on it for a repeat of last night.”
“Maybe I’m willing to take that risk,” she replied, her voice steady. She flicked her silvery blond hair over her shoulder, letting it cascade down her back. “But for the record, people today don’t just piss in front of whomever they nailed the night before. It’s disgusting and definitely lowered your chances on a willing repeat towards zero. That’s the difference between vampires and you magic crowd: we stick with current times, not live in some perpetual Renaissance Faire. And we wash our hands after using the chamber pot, especially before offering the chalice we’ve been drinking from since the day before to someone else.”
Gwydion laughed again, a deep, rumbling sound. “If you don’t like it, there’s the door,” he said, pointing crudely. “But we both know you’re not going far.”
She leaned in, pressing her naked body against his, her alabaster skin blending with his pale, almost translucent skin that shimmered with an otherworldly glow. Her silvery blonde hair cascaded down her back, a stark contrast to his jet-black locks. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she whispered near his ear, “I don’t have to go far. Just far enough.” With that, she bit his ear with her fangs, drawing blood. Demonstratively licking her lips, showing her fangs, she pulled away and shot him a daring look. She grabbed his glass, emptied it in one gulp, then turned to pick up the dress she had worn the night before. With a final, defiant glance over her shoulder, she left the room, leaving him standing there, touching his hand to his ear, clearly intrigued by her unexpected boldness.
The tension between them was palpable, the air thick with a mixture of anger, desire, and something unspoken. Fiona knew she hadn’t won the war, but she had definitely claimed a victory in this battle. This fight was far from over, but she was ready to face it with everything she had.
EchoesOfLegacy 