[C] Plagued

The city of London was on lockdown, before exiting through the city gates, everyone was required to possess a certificate of good health signed by the Lord Mayor and these became increasingly difficult to obtain.

As time went by and the numbers of plague victims rose, people living in the villages outside London began to resent this exodus and were no longer prepared to accept townsfolk from London, with or without a certificate. The refugees were turned back, were not allowed to pass through towns and had to travel across country, and were forced to live rough on what they could steal or scavenge from the fields. Many died in wretched circumstances of starvation and thirst in the hot summer that was to follow.

Some couldn’t even attempt the journey, if you showed signs of being unwell you were confined to your own home, on many cases, forcefully locked in doors and left to rot. Many people turned savage, the crime rate was driven higher and higher.

The black plague hadn’t only affected the humans, many of the Vampires of London had fled early on, as soon as the disease began to spread. Sucking down the blood of the infected was not a wise idea and could make even the undead sickly even if they could not catch the illness.

Elina couldn’t travel, she was heavily pregnant with her first child, a child which was born in this plague ridden town, even a pureblooded vampire lost her strength with the burden of caring for another, inside of her womb.

Amos was born, however his mother did not survive the ordeal, her body weakened from the limited availability of food, despite her husband feeding her as often as he could.

Weakened with a sickly food source and caring for a newborn on his own, Amos’ father found it impossible to leave the city. Attempts were made to enter into a new town but the plague moved faster than he could with a baby.
As such he made his way back to London, making their home as comfortable as possible for him and his son who was slowly growing up.

The disease was at it worse when Amos was five years old, his father grew weaker with each passing day, unable to hunt for long periods of time, and he was hunting for two, but clean bodies were difficult to find.

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Amos woke one night with a fright as a loud banging sounded out on the street, they were collecting the bodies of the dead and throwing them into the back of the cart to take them way.

The small boy hid under the covers of his bed before gathering the courage to sneak into his father’s room.

With a little bit of a struggle he crawled up onto the high mattress and nestled in against the man, curling in against his father’s side, the man’s arm draped over his body limply as he lay his head against his chest with a whimper.
“They are going to take me away Daddy.”

He had seen the cart take away a lot of people, the little lady that use to live next door, the young man down the road who had that large dog, even the woman who use to run the bakery.

“Daddy?”

The man didn’t reply, Amos felt it best not to wake his father, instead he curled in against him and tried to sleep, and the cart would go away soon, he knew it would.

The daylight hours faded away and soon it was nightfall again, time to get out of bed. Amos sat up with a little yawn, rubbing his eyes softly.

His father’s bedroom was cold, the fire had gone out during the night. He shivered softly and nudged the man.

“Up. Time to get up.”
The man didn’t move.

Days went on like this, Amos stayed by his father's side, cuddling in against him for warmth that he never received. Constantly he tried to wake the man, shaking him gently. He even tried light the fire place to keep them warm during the chilly nights but he found that he simply couldn't do it.

Walterus wasn't very old during the mid thirteen hundreds. He was a muscular man with well groomed facial hair and long, curly brown hair. Though he wasn't of noble birth, his family were of the wealthy stock. This was due in part by their supernatural blood.

Pure-blood Lycan to be precise. The Macellar's were some of the strongest, wealthiest, most feared citizens of England.

But even they had suffered during the plague. No one was spared from it's effects. Animals, humans, everything was diseased. Were he not a lycan, he was sure he would be dead by now.

He'd lost a lot of weight in the years that the plague had taken over England. Most everyone had. The plague didn't discriminate between the rich and the poor.

At only 20 years old, Walterus wasn't as wise or experienced as some of the other members in his family, who were hundreds of years old.

On one fateful day, the young man found himself walking through the disgusting, grovelling streets of London. The stench of death was thick in the air, but it had been this way for so long that Walterus found himself getting used to it. Moaning, diseased, blackening humans and animals could be heard. It was the slow churning of the wagon wheels that made the man feel most sick. The way it creaked under the weight of lifeless bodies piled on top of it, the soft clanking it made against the dirt and rocks. It was ominous, unforgiving, taunting almost.

What a filthy decade this had been. The black plague, the war, the earthquakes. It was if the Gods had turned their back on this wretched planet and left it to rot.

A cry echoed into the air, and Walterus found himself hardly even phased by it. It was probably another person finding someone they loved had finally embraced the cold comforts of death.

But then the cries started echoing an all too familiar word. Demon.

A demon found drinking the blood of a dead man, in the form of an innocent child. Surely this demon was what was causing the death!

As the man ran away trying to warn the civilians, Walterus wasted no time in entering the house.

He knew this demon child was in reality a vampire.

He hated vampires.

But if he didn't take this child away the city would be in hysterics. And that was really the last thing this god-forsaken country needed. To be hunting vampires and other supernatural creatures. It'd be an annoyance at best and a real problem at worst, what with everyone being weakened from the illness.

He went into the house, placing a cloth over his mouth. The stench was stronger for him then normal humans, due to his senses.

He'd find the boy and take him back home, where he'd kill him and rid the world of another vampire. He'd make it swift, painless. He hated the thought of killing a child but he also hated the thought of another Vampire growing up to pollute the Earth.

When he turned the corner he was stunned to find just how young this little creature was. He was practically a toddler, and his eyes were large against his thin, unblemished cheeks. Blood dribbled down his chin, no doubt he'd been trying to feed from the dead man on the bed.

Walterus walked in and scooped the boy up, not saying a word.

Tears streaked down Amos' pale cheeks, he didn't understand what was happening, a man had come into the house and started screaming at him, calling him horrible names.

He had been trying to feed, his stomach hurt and his father hadn't woken up in days, he had tried to make the man stir but it hadn't worked so he fed himself, like he had been shown many times in the past.

The boy hadn't shed a single tear the last few days, he didn't grasp the concept of death, not when it came to those who were not humans.

He didn't make a noise as the strange man silently approached him, he simply cowered closer to the corpse laid out in the bed.

It wasn't until the man pulled him away from the body that he finally spoke. As the man tried to carry him away he struggled, squirming until he was looking over the man's shoulder, his small arms stretching back toward the bed.

"Daddy! Daddy wake up!"

A sob broke from the boy's blood stained mouth, another stream of tears following the first.

"Daddy help!"

He didn't understand, this man was the one who was helping him.

Walterus furrowed his brow and roughly jerked the boy around, placing his hand over the child's mouth.

"Silence!" He ordered, his voice stern and full of authority.

"Your father is dead, and if you don't hush I'll kill you too." He threatened. It was in his plan to kill the boy anyway, but the little vampire didn't need to know that.

There was a sound of approaching footsteps, and Walterus knew it must be soldiers to investigate the scene.

He made a quick escape out of a back window and ran along the back walls and paths until reaching his home. He entered inside and set the child down before quickly locking the doors to his house.

Amos looked up at the man as he was jerked away from the view of his father, his wide eyes full of terror as he was silenced.

He gave a soft whimper in against the man's hand but went silent, his body shaking with quiet sobs.

He didn't look back up at the man after that, his eyes staying down cast as he was carried, continuous tears spilling from his closed eyes.

His father wasn't dead, he couldn't die, he was just sleeping, he would wake up soon and everything would be aright again.

Amos sat where he was set down, curling himself into a little ball, this man scared him, he wanted to go home.

He took a moment to catch his breath once he was certain that no one had seen the two of them. Walterus then turned back around to face the small boy.

Guilt gnawed at his gut. But why? The boy was a vampire. The world would be better without them... right?

He knelt down and gently rubbed the tears from the chlid's face.

Maybe he could make the boy's last day on Earth a good one, that could be the least he could do.

"I'm sorry about your father." He mumbled, taking the child's hand.

"But you don't have to be scared anymore. I won't hurt you." He said. It was partially true. He wouldn't let the boy suffer at his hands. The death would be quick, humane.

Amos flinched when the man touched him but gave a soft sniffle as his cheeks were cleaned of tears.

His eyes slowly peeked open, staring up at the man with bright blue eyes, the colour of which seemed to ripple like water.

The Vampire's tiny hand squeezed onto the man's larger one tightly, deep down he knew the man was right, his father was dead, he had know since the moment be had bitten him, he didn't feel a pulse, his blood didn't flow, it tasted horrible and left him stomach churning sickly.

A large sense of loss filled the little boy's heart, his father was the only family he had.

Amos threw his thin arms around the Lycan's neck, hugging him close and burying his face in against the man's throat as he gave another sob.

The lycan's eyes widened when the little boy threw his arms around him. The child was so innocent, so fragile right now. And with this new found lost he was at an even more vulnerable state.

With every passing moment Walterus felt himself faltering. He didn't want to kill the boy.

Slowly he embraced the child and rubbed his back, trying to comfort him. He was a bit awkward at it, considering his intentions were to kill the adorable little boy.

He played over the options in his head. What would happen if he were to let the child live? Would he raise him? Abandon him? What kind of monster would he grow to become?

Hesitantly he again scooped the boy up in his arms, but this time he was much more gentle. He walked over and sat down on a chair he had, resting the boy on his lap.

He allowed the child to cry it out until the little boy's sobs turned to whimpers and gasps. It was healthy to be able to grieve.

All the while he tried his best to hold the boy and give him comfort.

Amos didn't resist the man when he was picked up, instead he curled in against the man's chest when he sat down, his hands bundling in the man's shirt and holding onto him tightly as he sobbed and cried into the fabric, every so often he would call out for his father.

Slowly the loud sobbing dulled down, his body trembling, unable to contain the emotion that flowed so readily through him, his cries turned into little whimpers and hiccups, sniffling gently when he had no more tears to shed.

It didn't take long for the boy's small frame to go limp in the man's grasp, his entire boy sagging as his body was forced to relax.

He had cried himself to the point of exhaustion and fallen asleep, though despite not being conscious his tiny hands still clung to the man's shirt.

After the child fell asleep Walterus knew this was time for him to make his choice. He could kill the boy now, it would be so easy. Now was his chance.

He stood up and laid the child down on his bed, making sure the boy was still comfortable and sleeping.

He then went to retrieve a wooden stake.

He rubbed his thumb over the splintering wood, bracing himself for the kill. He had killed many before. What made this weak vampire offspring any different?

He steadied the steak upon the boys chest, right above his heart. All he had to do now was thrust it inside and he would be rid of the child.

Walterus gathered his strength and went to push in.

But he couldn't. He stopped himself, standing up straight and throwing the stake across his house with a frustrated grunt.

What was wrong with him?! Why couldn't he kill this boy? What was stopping him?

He paced his house and eventually sat down in his chair again. Head in his hands.

He sat like that for a long while, loosing track of time as he tried to wrap his mind around the situation he'd gotten himself tangled up in.

Amos slept peacefully, his body too tired to wake, his mind completely unaware of the danger he was in by being near this man.

Had the Lycan been able to go through with it, the boy would have died without ever suspecting it. Perhaps that would have been best, after all, he was an orphan in a town where people could barely look after there own let alone look out for a small Vampire child.

The boy was already thin, clean blood was hard to come by, whether it be animal or human.

Amos' brows furrowed in his sleep as he gave a pained whimper and woke, clutching onto his stomach which churned and ached, ingesting dead blood was never a wise idea, less so when it had been sitting there for days to rot.

He got out of bed swiftly, doubling over on the floor before throwing it back up rather violently. The boy whined softly as he looked down at the small red puddle out in front of him.

Walterus didn't look up from his position until he heard the child vomiting. How wonderful, how pleasant. Let the boy live and this is what you get.

Without saying a word the lycan man got some cloth and did his best to clean up the mess. London in these days was always dirty, so his efforts were only halfhearted.

Amos sat back against the floor as the man cleaned up his mess, he felt bad for doing it, he hadn't meant to.

Though the Lycan didn't looked pleased, not that he had seen the man look anything but scary.

"I'm sorry."

He murmured softly as he hugged his knees to his chest, wiping his blood stained lips on his sleeve.

He didn't want the man too be mad at him.

Walterus stood up and ran his hand back through his hair.

"What am I going to do with you boy?" He asked, the frustration evident on his face.

Of course he didn't expect the child to answer. He was just talking out loud.

"Am I supposed to raise you? I can't leave you out in the streets of London trying to suck up everyone's blood and cause all sorts of trouble for our kind! I don't even know the first thing about vampires other then how to kill them!" He paced the room, his rising anger evident as his voice was progressively getting louder.

He looked up at the man with worry, sinking back into himself as he tried to hide from the man.

Amos didn't want to stay here, the man frightened him, he wanted to go back home.

His eyes widened as the man started to yell about killing Vampires, why would he do that? He didn't understand, Vampires were good people.

"I want Roland."

He muttered softly, he could go find Roland, live with him back in his own house, Roland would keep him safe, that was what his father had always said.

Walterus's brow raised at the boys words.

He knelt down in front of the child and took his arms, looking into his eyes.

"Roland? Who's Roland?"

Amos flinched when the man touched him, he didn't like how one moment he was rough, then gentle, then rough again.

His eyes widened as he looked up at the man, trembling softly in his grasp.

"He hid under the blankets when the man broke into our house."

He muttered softly.

He hid under the blankets? Well that was useless. The soldiers must have found him and took him away.

"Is he your brother?" He asked, trying to understand.

If the soldiers were able to find a vampire anyway then all of this would be pointless.

Amos shook his head softly, he didn't have any siblings, it was just him and his father, no one else.

"He is my bunny."

He murmured shyly, he hoped Roland was alright, he had owned that knitted bunny since he was born, his mother had made it for him when she found out that she was pregnant.

Maybe he could sneak back into his house and get him, he didn't want Roland to get scared all by himself.

"Of course he's your bunny." Walterus said, hanging his head. At least he knew that the guards didn't find a vampire. That was the only bit of good news he'd had all day.

"Look, you stay here, and I'll go get your bunny okay? But you have to promise me you will not leave the house. Do you understand?" He asked, looking into the boy's eyes again, trying to convey that he was very serious.

The boy's features brightened, he would go get Roland? A small smile graced the boy's lips and he nodded softly.

"I'll stay."

He murmured softly, he didn't have anywhere else he could go if he couldn't go home, he didn't even know which way home was from here, he was never let outside on his own.

If he could have his bunny back if he stayed then he wouldn't move a muscle.

Walterus stood up and unlocked his door. Before leaving he again turned to the boy and held his finger up.

"Stay." He ordered, like he were talking to a puppy rather then a child. He then shut the door and made his way back to the house.

By this time the boy's father was no longer inside. His body had most likely been dumped into the trenches with the rest of all who were discovered dead on this day.

Peering under the bed he found a small, toy rabbit.

"So you must be Roland." He said, looking at the stuffed animal. He tucked it into the pouch he always carried with him and made his way back home.

He wished he knew a way to feed the child. He couldn't offer his own blood. He was aware that it was like poison.

When he came back to his house he quickly locked the door again and looked to see if the vampire child was still around.

Amos sat still as the man told him to stay and left the house.

Slowly he got to his feet and padded to a window, peeking out of it to the street outside.

He didn't know this street at all, as such he pulled away from it, instead crawling up onto the chair that they had been sitting in earlier, curling up on top of it and waiting.

He hoped Roland wasn't lost, if he could have his rabbit back then at least he wouldn't be alone.

His head shot up as the door open, looking over at the Lycan with wide, hopeful eyes.

Walterus took the small ragged toy out of his pouch and held it up for Amos to see.

"Is this your friend?" He asked, and he couldn't help but smile softly at how hopeful and eager the child looked.

He handed the boy his bunny and then sat down on his bed, opting to just stare and study the vampire for a few moments.

"Roland!"

He squealed, grabbing the rabbit eagerly and hugging it to his chest, clinging to the stuffed animal as if it meant the entire world to him.

In a single day he had lost everything, but having his fluffy companion back made him feel better, like everything would be alright.

Amos sat there, nursing the rabbit in his lap, stroking his ears softly, being as tender with the creature as possible.