Torn between two lives

Another life

Leo had promised, made a solemn vow, not to mourn Anna too harshly, for she had promised to return to him, that she would be reborn. It was an unheard of thing, as there were theories and musings on reincarnation, everyone agreed that the soul would not remember, lest the bad habits and connections of their previous lives turn into a vicious cycle to repeat over and over again. Yet as she lay dying in his arms, she had promised to return to him, to be with him once again. So for hundreds of years, he waited, surviving but not living. Taking thralls for the sake of blood and never carnal pleasure, for none were his Anna.

Despite his promise though, he couldn’t help but erect an empty grave, a monument to his grief and everlasting love, having it simply inscribed, “MY BELOVED” for that is what she was to him, his eternal love, his beloved Anastasia. They had roamed the world together for five hundred years and with each passing one without her, his memory struggled to conjor her face. Vampires were supposed to have perfect memories, which is true for the past hundred or so years yet his feeble mind could hardly trace back nearly a thousand, he remembered fleeting moments of the first time they had met. She was a queen amongst the vikings, who saw her as Idun, the goddess of youth, to whom they happily made sacrifices to her in exchange for her blessing. He was still human when they had met, he was Leon, an English traveler who’s boat and most of his crew had perished during a mighty storm. When they brought him and his mates to her as sacrifice, he watched as his friends were killed, drained for her pleasure and blood poured into jugs as though it were wine.

Yet when they went to slice his throat, she lifted her hand to stop them, smelling the air, the fear that no doubt permeated the room because of him and she stood, the pathway of people clearing as they whispered in what he now knew were talk of him being blessed by the goddess herself. She did not speak, simply smiled at him in a way that told him everything was going to be okay, right before her elongated teeth pierced his neck, flooding him with endorphins and rendering him limp in her overtly strong grasp. His body burned and his throat ached as she sliced her own body, where her neck met her shoulder and for the first time he heard her voice, though her mouth was closed, her blood was calling to him, “drink, drink and be mine, Leon, my little lion.” His head was swimming, heart pounding, mouth unbearably dry and without question, without asking why, his tongue lapped at her throat and his teeth, screeching with pain as they elongated as well, pierced her shoulder, draining heaven from the source.

The norsemen stood daft, for they had never seen their goddess transform someone in that way, usually they would see her procure her blood in a goblet and give it to someone she deemed worthy but this transaction was intimate, a bond forged before their very eyes.

Leo thought of that moment often, of his last hazy human memory to stick around, how Anna had loved him from the moment she saw him, she had told him once that vampires and wolves recognised mates on first sight, their scent drawing the supernatural nearer and nearer, demanding a claim to be marked. She had wasted no time in turning him, for to be a maker was a sacred gift, one never given lightly, for a bond once forged of that strength could never be broken, even after death.

Which was why he kept visiting her grave, although no body was within, Anna had turned to ash hundreds of years ago yet within the past few years, he had been drawn to the obelisk, to her. He had been in town to meet with another older vampire, they had agreed to see each other at least once a century, to keep up on the politics and the modern world, so he had gone to the grave, usually he would spend the evening there and leave before sun rise, but something pulled on his heart to stay, to wait. And so he did, hiding in the shadows of the other over-the-top tombstones and simply feeling his heart ache as he watched Anna’s grave. He had barely noticed the older man with a small girl, probably about eight, walking beside him. He would read one tombstone and then she would read the next, he praised her reading skills and Leo found it a bit macabre that this is how he would hone her skills. Yet he focused on them as they reached the grave he had erected, listened to her voice read the inscription, just as the wind shifted and he picked up her scent, earth, mint and something he hadn’t smelled in years, Anna’s scent of apples.

He understood now, what she had meant about scents all those years ago, he was grounded by it, his world know spun around the focal point of that child, who had turned in his direction and he quickly hid, watching her as her eyes betrayed she knew she was being watched. As promised, his Anna had returned to him, he would guard that child until the time was right, and then, he would claim her as his for eternity.