Knight of the Vampire
by MagisterAthena
Wyetta Maier, knight of the realm, could tell that this was a vampire’s castle. She’d walked these halls once years ago, when they were filled with light from the elaborate stained glass windows, the stone walls dazzling with bright and cheery colours. Now, they were hidden behind tapestries, keeping the sunlight at bay; the hallways shone with the dim, wavering light of burning torches.
Wyetta held her longsword at the ready as she crept through the castle, eyes flickering to every corner as she watched for an ambush. It was creepy how deserted the halls were. She wasn’t exactly looking for company — she’d snuck into the castle by the escape tunnel — but she’d expected to have to work to remain undetected.
Guess this place must be running on the vampire’s schedule, she thought. That was why she’d chosen to make her approach during the daylight after all. The legends about vampires were murky, but they were clear about their weakness to the sun at least. And people knew those stories well enough for wild tales to escape as the vampire took over this castle town. The only consistent part of their stories was the vampire’s name — they were called Carmine. Subtle.
Distant noises, echoing down the halls. Wyetta’s ears perked up, and she made her way towards them, slowly and carefully. She found a doorway — the heavy oak door slightly ajar, the sounds coming from behind it. Now that she was closer, she could tell it was — music?
The door was too heavy to open quietly — from the looks of the hinges, Wyetta was sure that if she tried, the creaking would reverberate around the castle. So she drew back a booted foot, then kicked the door open, rushing a few paces into the room before settling into a fighting stance, longsword at the ready.
Wyetta took in the room with quick glances. It was a library — a fancy one, two storeys tall, with walls covered in bookshelves, wrought iron balconies giving access to the higher shelves. Soft chairs and reading tables filled the floor. And in one of them, someone strummed away at a lyre — though they’d dropped it, startled by Wyetta’s entrance.
Wyetta drew breath, about to ask the person where the vampire was — assuming they were one of the villagers. Then she noticed their fangs, instinctively bared at the surprise of her entrance. This was the vampire, Carmine themself. Awake during the day — though, Wyetta supposed, it didn’t matter much with the sun hidden. As the vampire stood up, she took their measure more closely.
Carmine wore solidly made clothes — fancy enough for anyone from a rich merchant to a minor noble — dyed in shades of black and red. Wyetta rolled her eyes at that. Their eyes shone crimson in the dim torchlight, even as they hid their fangs again behind a determined smile. A rapier hung at their hip, and they drew it, settling into a duellist’s stance. Wyetta could see it was a well-made weapon, and the vampire clearly knew how to use it from how they held it.
Wyetta readied her longword. “I’ve come to end your reign of terror, you unnatural creature!”
Carmine tilted their head, a cocky grin on their face. “Have you now? Well, good luck with that.” And they lunged forward — their rapier formed a bolt of silver lightning aimed at Wyetta’s heart.
Wyetta deflected the blow, and the two began to settle into a rhythm of trading blows and parries. The vampire’s rapier flickered around the edges of Wyetta’s guard, and she recognised the fighting style. It appeared in duelling handbooks as — appropriately enough — the Exsanguinator. Instead of aiming for a single blow, that style called for making small cuts, one by one, to slow the opponent down until they could eventually be finished off.
But Wyetta had faced those sorts of irritating duellists before, and knew how to counter it. Carmine had been avoiding locking swords with Wyetta, recognising that the power she could put behind her longsword would cleanly disarm them of their rapier. So she needed bait.
Wyetta moved to dodge one of the vampire’s blows, and pretended to trip over a leg of one of the reading desks. Her off hand pinwheeled off her longsword’s hilt, leaving her side exposed. The vampire pulled back to make a clean thrust at her exposed flank, and stabbed forwards.
The rapier was smashed aside by Wyetta’s longsword, as she brought her off hand out of the fake pinwheel and back onto the hilt, lending strength to her parry. The impact jarred it out of the vampire’s hand, and it went flying across the library, bouncing off one of the bookshelves before it came to a stop, the blade singing with the impact. Carmine dived for their sword, trying desperately to get their weapon back. They were crouched on the ground, hand on the hilt—
When a booted foot came down on the blade. “Looks like you lose, vampy.” Wyetta said, mockingly, standing on the rapier. For all the fabled powers of vampires, looks like being one didn’t make you any better of a fighter.
Wyetta put the tip of her longsword at the hollow at the base of Carmine’s neck, then gently lifted her blade, raising the vampire’s chin. As she lifted the sword, the crimson of the vampire’s eyes flashed off the steel, momentarily disorienting Wyetta, making her dizzy. She hid it, wanting to make sure the fight stayed won. “I’ve got you now. You’ll be taken back in irons to the court of the realm.”
The vampire met Wyetta’s gaze — not that they had a choice, with her blade at their throat. Crimson eyes stared into Wyetta’s emerald ones. “Must have been quite a tiring fight though,” Carmine purred. And then — unbelievably — they yawned, even with forged steel under their chin.
“Hah! No,” Wyetta laughed. “I've fought squires who were more of a challenge than you.” But then, annoyingly, she had to stifle a yawn. After her face had finished contorting as she tried to suppress it, she glared at the vampire, who wore a satisfied half-smile on their face.
“You sure about that? That yawn looked pretty tired to me,” Carmine said, a taunting edge to their voice.
“No, I’m…” Wyetta had to stifle another yawn. “I’m fine.” Her eyelids were dipping tiredly. Gods-damn it, this is embarrassing, she thought. The last few days of hard riding must be catching up with her now the thrill of the fight had worn off.
“That’s such a heavy sword you've got there — you might have some quite impressive muscles from swinging it around,” the vampire’s smooth voice whispered.
Distracted by the flush of satisfaction from the praise — Wyetta took pride in her muscles, especially at how she could use them to make the princess blush — Wyetta didn't notice the point of her longsword starting to dip. Just as she didn't notice the grin on Carmine’s face, not when those shining crimson eyes were there.
“That’s right…” the vampire purred with satisfaction. And that was what made Wyetta pause and take stock, even though it felt like she was thinking through treacle, her thoughts sinking into slow, syrupy sweetness.
She noticed her heavy eyelids, fluttering with every blink; her longsword feeling like it was made of lead, the point dragging on the floor instead of threatening the vampire. The vampire! They must be the one doing this — whatever this was — to her.
Wyetta struggled to wake herself up and bring her sword level once more. “If…” she struggled out, alarmed at how weak and dazed her voice sounded, “if you don't stop this, I’ll have to—”
“Shhhhhhh,” Carmine soothed, their hissing in her ear scattering her thoughts once more. Dimly, a corner of her mind realised that while she’d been struggling to wake up, the vampire had moved. Now they were cradling her head to one side as it flopped limply, hissing their poisonously soothing words into her ear. The rest of her mind was simply mesmerised by the vampire’s crimson eyes, their siren song of a voice.
“Come on now, no need to fight — isn’t it just so much easier to give into those feelings of bliss and sink away?” Wyetta could barely tell if it was the vampire’s voice or her own inner monologue.
“I…” Wyetta struggled once more, trying desperately to marshal her thoughts. Then she realised she couldn’t, not with those bewitching ruby eyes so close to her own, washing her thoughts away with soothing, blissful feelings. “Ohh…” she sighed, as she let her resistance slip away. She slumped over onto Carmine, who cradled her comfortably, almost tenderly. Her longsword slipped from her nerveless fingers, clattering onto the floor.
“My eyes are just so very lovely to look at, wouldn’t you agree?” Carmine teased, nodding Wyetta’s head for her.
“Yeah,” she sighed, slumping a little bit further into the vampire’s embrace.
“Such an lovely, agreeable thrall. And such a strong knight, too — but isn’t it so much easier to lay down your burdens and just listen to me?”
Carmine didn’t even need to prompt Wyetta before she let out a hazy “mmhmm” — too deeply entranced to even think before she just mindlessly agreed. Her lips were curved into a dazed and blissful smile.
The vampire grinned widely, their fangs gleaming in the torchlight of the library. This knight may have managed to defeat them handily, but she was just as vulnerable to their mesmerising gaze as everyone else. And that gave them an idea. But first…
Carmine softly took hold of Wyetta’s chin, then tilted her head to the side, baring her neck for their fangs. They grazed their fangs gently over the graceful curve of her neck — then bit, almost tenderly, feeling the warmth under their fangs. Wyetta made cute noises of bliss, eyelids fluttering as she dropped even deeper under the vampire’s spell.
After the vampire had drunk their fill, they turned to whispering into Wyetta’s ears, those soft sounds sinking into her dazed and pliable mind. After they were done ensuring they had Wyetta solidly under their thrall — as a treat — they pulled back, holding Wyetta by her shoulders to keep her steady.
“Now,” Carmine began in their smooth, silky voice, “come up out of this trance and pledge allegiance to me, my lovely, enthralled knight.”
Wyetta’s eyelids fluttered open, and the vampire could feel her shoulder muscles tensing up beneath their hands — and felt the heat rising to their face as they bit one fang into their lip.
As Wyetta’s eyes focused, seeing Carmine, they shone with blissful admiration. And, deep behind the pupil, if you looked closely, a red glow that mimicked the vampire’s crimson eyes.
Wyetta knelt down in front of the vampire, head bowed. But Carmine put a finger under her chin, tilting it upwards in an ironic parody of Wyetta’s earlier victory, until she stared up at the vampire adoringly. Then she took hold of Carmine’s hand, turning it around until she was staring at the back of it, and then kissed it.
The earlier heat flooded Carmine’s face all the way up to the tips of their ears — and they could see a matching flush on Wyetta’s face. Eventually, they were confident enough in their voice to say, “Now, arise, my knight.”
Wyetta stood, a cocky smile on her face at the vampire’s fluster. Carmine felt a matching smile form on their face, which bubbled up into a cackle that echoed around the library. They only stopped when they heard a giggle from Wyetta — one that was surprisingly dainty given the knight’s strength.
“Really? I’ve pledged myself to — and been enthralled by — a vampire who acts like they came straight out of a bard’s story?” Wyetta said with a mocking grin and raised eyebrow.
Carmine scowled playfully — then put a finger under Wyetta’s chin, bringing her gaze towards their eyes in a clear threat. The small gasp that she let out, and heat they could feel spreading through her skin was reward enough, so the vampire let her go. “Looks like you’re mine anyway,” they said, flirtatiously.
Wyetta’s eyes glazed over for a moment, and a weak “yours…” escaped her lips before she shook herself awake. “That’s what we call cheating.”
There was a moment of silence before Wyetta and Carmine burst out laughing together, much more naturally than the vampire’s evil cackle from before.
Adelaide Glassner, knight of the realm, made her way through the vampire’s castle. The princess’s former champion — Wyetta, that lowborn brawler — had been dispatched a month ago, and never seen again. Now Adelaide was going to finish off the job that Wyetta clearly couldn’t. Wyetta may have been a terror in the practice yard, but she was hopeless at formal duels — and Adelaide was sure that finesse would win the day where brute strength hadn’t.
Adelaide entered one of the bedchambers, and saw who could only be the vampire, Carmine. They were out on the balcony, their back to her, and they were staring up at the light of the thin crescent moon.
Adelaide padded towards them, her rapier at the ready. The vampire still hadn’t noticed her as she made it within reach, and pulled back her blade to piece the vampire’s heart. She wasn’t altogether sure if vampires had hearts, but reckoned that either way, the vampire wouldn’t appreciate a foot of cold steel in their chest.
Her rapier flashed forwards, a gleam of moonlight on the blade. Then the point dug into the floor, striking a chip off the flagstones. Adelaide automatically recovered, pulling back before she’d even processed what had happened. The events replayed in her mind, and she realised a longsword had swung out of the darkness, deflecting her thrust.
And out of that darkness, longsword in hand, came Wyetta. A bolt of fear ran through Adelaide — both at seeing Wyetta turned to serving the vampire, and realising that she was doomed now that it was a stand-up fight. The vampire turned smoothly from the balcony too, walking to stand beside Wyetta, before putting an arm possessively around her shoulders.
“You like my champion?” Carmine asked, tauntingly, and Adelaide noticed both the vampire’s crimson eyes, and the dim red glow behind Wyetta’s green irises. Then the two of them grinned, Carmine’s razor-sharp grin alongside Wyetta’s cocky smirk. Then Wyetta, knight of the vampire, readied her longsword for the fight.