#462 - Magnum Opus - We Three Kings - Lightning_skies - Blade/Underworld

[lightning-skies.livejournal.com]

Title: We Three Kings
Fandom: BtVS/Bleach
Prompt: 462 - Magnum Opus
Words: 1363
Warnings: None

Drake allowed Asher to rest through his change as he hunted down his wayward Hunter King. If the vampire Frost was so well educated on the line of La Magra and placed a high value on the man, then Drake had been right when he had tasted himself in the hunter’s blood. King was a descendent of his followers who had somehow managed to escape the taint of vampirism. Drake would have to search out more information on what had occurred over the millennia he slept through. Apparently, the vampires weren’t his only living legacy. Perhaps there were more out there, clean, pure descendents of his most loyal.

The thought thrilled him. Hannibal King belonged to him, had always belonged to him, just as his father and forefathers before him had for hundreds of generations. Whether they’d known it or not it was a part of them. Drake would see the hunter returned to his side, where he belonged, The Hunter King to Drake’s Blood God. Having already tasted King’s blood, there was nowhere he could hide from Drake, who had been created to be the world’s greatest predator.

He traced the scent of blood to the waterfront and found that his hunter had holed up on a barge with his Nightstalkers group. Drake considered the hideout for a moment, he sensed his Hunter King inside, but also two males, a female and a child. His mortal's heartbeat was slow and steady as he slept and healed from the injuries Drake had given him.

“The reason most people are bad is because they do not try to be good.” Mother and child were together in the rear of the barge, reading a story. He had never had much contact with children, their memories were too few to flavor their blood, their bodies were too weak to put up much fight and they were unappetizing sexually. Aside from those three functions he didn’t have any reason to interact with humans and so had never thought much on their young. Drake bared his fangs in amusement at the thought of the girl growing up among these warriors and training all her life to slay demons such as himself. A mere kitten growling her defiance at a lion, the king of the jungle.

The men were in the hold of the boat, distracted with their basketball game and heckling each other loudly over the blaring music. They were unarmed and at ease, they would notice nothing before he made himself known.

Even wounded his Hunter King was the biggest threat on the vessel. He visited the makeshift infirmary intending to ensure that the medicated sleep became true unconsciousness. He couldn't allow his prize to hurt himself with ill advised heroics. Asher had warned that self-sacrificing foolishness was an ingrained trait in the man and Drake wouldn't lose him before he could figure out how he had been cured of his vampiric taint.

He was silent as he entered, but even then, his hunter was on some level aware of the pull in his blood. His brow furrowed and he opened his eyes to squint up at Drake.

"Dude. You're dead." Drake wondered for a moment whose photograph and identity Asher had provided him with, but didn't care much. It had turned out to be an unnecessary measure, the Nightstalkers had proven to be completely defenceless and left his prize unguarded. He placed a large palm over his hunter's face and cut off his air. Injured and medicated as he was, King still put up a decent struggle against his grip, but soon slumped in his grasp as unconsciousness overtook him.

“Now, the Nome King had never tried to be good, so he was very bad indeed.”

The men at play didn't even notice him coming until he was upon them. He took down the larger man first, knocking him out as he tore into the smaller and less physically fit of the two. The short man had a surprising mind, having answered to the calling of a weaponsmith rather than a warrior. He was the designer and supplier of the various intriguing weapons Drake had seen used against his progeny. It was a pity the man was physically worthless and a hinderance to his night’s plans. At a more convenient time Drake may have wished to employ his services. As it was, he did not need weapons, he needed worthwhile beings to recreate and repopulate his bloodline.

The men both had a similar set of thoughts upon seeing his face. Their blood whispered their secrets in his ears and he was immediately intrigued with the idea of their ‘Hail Mary’, the Daystar virus. It seemed that the dutiful mother, Somerfield, was a viper hidden in the grass and had prepared quite the bite for him. Drake doubted the virus would work on his advanced biology, he was the creation of an Elder God after all. He had never been human or carried even a drop of mortal weakness in his veins. He was pure power given form and what was not truly born could not be killed.

Still, Somerfield had been the one to design his Hunter’s cure and if what they believed was true, this virus could be his solution to the worthless dregs calling themselves vampires. He could cull the herd and start anew, this time with deliberation. No longer would immortality be given freely to the worthless. He could hand select the members of his new race. With that pleasant and uplifting thought in mind Drake found himself thinking fondly on the blind huntress.

“Having decided to conquer the Land of Oz and to destroy the Emerald City and enslave all its people, King Roquat the Red kept planning ways to do this dreadful thing…” Ana Somerfield in addition to her wonderful mind, also had excellent instincts. Her heart rate rose immediately and her recitation cut off when the music was silenced. She gave her daughter instructions to hide away and sought Drake out. She was blind of sight but had very good senses and her fear grew steadily as she realized how silent the ship was, all signs of life extinguished. As she navigated the ship, she whirled and trained her gun directly on the vampire lord for a moment before her fear got the better of her and she veered off to aim wildly at other shadows.

Drake considered her for a moment, his demonic pupils blown wide as he took her measure. He did not pity her her infirmity or mortality, she rose above it and made something of herself, unlike his pathetic race, given all the advantages in the world and squandering it all. Drake wasn't gentle with her as he took her, giving her a respectful death as the huntress she was. Her screams echoed through the hideout as she fought her end.

He hung her body in the showers to be found with her arms splayed in the position of their Christ figure. She would be the first true childe of a Blood God, raised from mortality. Asher was merely a servant, but she would be his first creation. Until she woke, he would guard her daughter, Zoe. The child of his childe was also his and so he would protect her. The young girl screamed and fought his grasp, but was easily cowed.

Drake was disappointed that the Daywalker had not been present, but it worked out for the best. Now the halfbreed would be motivated to make an assault upon the House Talos in revenge for the death of his pet hunters and the Daystar would be his best weapon in an attempt to end the ancient immortal.

Still, he left a bit of extra motivation in blood on the shower curtain that shrouded Ana’s as yet unrisen body, making his position clear. -Immortalilty will come to such as are fit for it-

Drake ran his fingers over the last line on the open page of the storybook, understanding from his new childe’s blood how to read the Braille “...and the more he planned the more he believed he would be able to accomplish it."