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11/09/2019 02:26 AM 

History of an Undead Nobleman, Prt I

History of an Undead Nobleman
Guest Star:  Rook Takes King
Lord Tristan de Martel/ Viri Inmortuae
Trigger Warnings for child abuse

When you tell a story, it is best to begin at the beginning.   My story is one that not many alive can even begin to recall.   It’s a good thing that I haven’t forgotten one bit of it.

990 AD
The chateau du Martel

“TRISTAN!”   The voice of the Count de Martel carried throughout the chateau.   The haughty French noble had just left the nursemaid who was tending to his six year old daughter and absolute joy, Aurora.   Now it was time to bring his son in from amongst the shadows and halls of the chateau and properly train him for the position that he’d assume sooner rather than later.  “Where the devil are you boy?”   The man narrowed his brow making his way through the drafty halls.   He was going to turn this entire place upside down!  WHERE WAS THAT BOY?

====

Twelve years old now and hiding from the sound of his father’s footsteps, Tristan the heir and first born of the Count was in the stables.   The Stable Keeper had a young son of his own.  Tristan was fascinated by the boy that was almost the same age as him.  That boy’s name was Lucien.  Lucien  was raised so differently than he was.  Tristan had often hid in one of the stalls just to watch Lucien as he went about his chores.   There were no diction lessons, no sword practice, catechism or anything of the sort.   Tristan wasn’t even sure that Lucien could read.

He was watching as Lucien was brushing the coat of a black stallion in one of the stalls.   “You can come out any time you want.”   Lucien wasn’t even looking but he knew that Tristan was watching him.   The younger boy’s eyes were focused on the magnificent creature before him and trying to accomplish the task his father had asked.

Tristan stepped out from behind the edge of the stall with his blue eyes cast downward. A messy head of brown hair curled around his ears.   He was dressed in a blue silk tunic and a pair of trousers to match.   “How do you do it?”  Tristan had manners, but tact with someone who was considered a lower station in life than he was left much to be desired.   “Spending all day out here in the filth and stinky animals has to be boring.”   Tristan slowly approached Lucien as he continued with the grooming of the animal.

“Is that why you’ve been watching me for two days?   You really do need to learn to hide better.”   The younger boy smoothed out the animal’s fetlock before finally making eye contact with the nobleman’s son.   “You get stuck in the big house all day.  Do you ever get a chance to actually play outside?”

Tristan rolled his shoulders feigning being indignant  at the way that the boy was talking to him.   “Play?  Of course I play.  I took my diction lesson by the rose garden the other day right under the sun.  It was really a lot of fun.”   The sound of Tristan’s tone was certainly not a very convincing one.

Lucien began picking up the brushes he had used on the horse and carried them to the appropriate area of the stable to ensure that they were able to be used for the next time the horse needed to be tended to.   “Well if you’re having so much fun, why are you out here watching me?”   He stood there for a moment watching Tristan.

Before the young lord could answer, the sound of his father finally reached the stable.  “TRISTAN!”   The Count stood in the stable with arms upon his hips.   Tristan’s entire face turned a ghostly pale as he actually feared his father.  “Come here, boy!”

Lucien’s entire countenance as well turned downward.  He felt his own father moving in behind him pulling him out of the way of the anger of the Count.   Tristan turned around slowly to face his father with a trembling countenance and started to wring his hands.  “Y-yes Father.”   That first step forward and then in the next step, the Count snatched his son by the ear.   

“You bring shame to this house boy!  You WILL come when I call.”   Lucien was a commoner.  Tristan was getting older and the rumors were already starting.   There were families in the court that were hoping that their one of their daughters would be found suitable as a match to the young Lord as he reached his adulthood soon.  “You have responsibilities that you must put first.  You WILL stop looking at that boy in that way.”

The halls of the chateau were filled with the echoing words from the Count as he was bound and determined to get his son to be an obedient son.   This entire affair was embarrassing and a threat to his authority.   To have a son to be that petulant?  This would not do.   “I’m sorry Father.  I promise to behave Father.  Please…”   The whimpering of the boy who was only 10 years old was heart wrenching to anyone who heard it.   No one would dare stand up and stay the hand of the Count even as he tossed Tristan down upon the ground as he finally took the boy inside his own bedroom.

===

Tristan’s mind went into slow motion.  As he fell to the ground tossed by his father, he gashed his hand upon the nearest piece of furniture.  He gripped that hand with the opposite one in an attempt to staunch the bleeding.   His father went on another tirade about how the young lord should behave.  His eyes shouldn’t be wandering upon the form of a boy that had no greater destiny in life to shovel horse manure for the rest of his days.   How did his father even realize that in his heart he felt something very different when he looked upon Lucien?   How could that be forbidden?

The first lash upon his back tore through the fabric barely even touching skin.   He cried out more from the surprise of being struck with a whip than anything.   Tristan stayed there as the crack of the whip sounded.   Eyes closed tightly as the next lash, then the next came.  The flesh of the boy’s back was torn away.  Blood pooled around his form as his father beat him that day.  With each lash he drilled the message into the young lord.   That feeling was not permitted and certainly not for a male who was no where near his class level.

The pain soon overwhelmed Tristan and he fell unconscious to the ground. His clothing was saturated with blood.  Spending the next month in his room, Tristan would recover.   Heavy scars were still upon his back all these years later.   He’d learned a lesson that day that would carry through for the next millennia.   NO one would ever hurt him like that again.   Tristan became a master of pain and punishment just like his father wanted.   It took another twelve years before Lucien himself would bring in a band of strangers that would change Tristan into one of the first sired vampires.  However it was that day in his room soaked in his own blood that a monster was truly born.

To be continued

“Everyone sees what you appear to be, few experience what you really are.”― Niccolò Machiavelli, The Prince ”
credit: james kriet

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