To the outside world, it was just another quiet evening at the inn. Inside, it was a slaughterhouse.
When the last man fell, Lucius stood amidst the carnage, his chest heaving, his mouth smeared with blood. He turned to Alaric, his expression smug. "Satisfied?"
Alaric didn't respond immediately. Instead, his eyes shifted to the girl still huddled in the corner. Her quiet sobs were the only sound in the room now. He approached her slowly, kneeling down to her level.
"You're safe now," he said softly, his voice unusually gentle. She flinched at his approach, shrinking further into herself.
Lucius watched from a distance, his expression unreadable. "She's terrified of us, Alaric. Don't waste your time."
Alaric ignored him, carefully cutting the ropes that bound her wrists. The girl gasped, pulling her hands close to her chest as she stared at him with wide, fearful eyes. "What's your name?" he asked.
"S-Serenity," she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper.
Alaric nodded. "Serenity, I know this was a nightmare, but it's over now. Can you walk?"
She hesitated before giving a small nod. Alaric helped her to her feet, keeping his movements slow and deliberate.
Lucius groaned. "Are we seriously playing savior now? We just wiped out an entire room of scum. Isn't that enough?"
Alaric shot him a warning look. "You've had your fun. Now let's make sure she's safe."
Lucius rolled his eyes but didn't argue further. He wiped his hands on a discarded cloth and leaned casually against the bloodstained wall, watching as Alaric led the girl toward the door.
"We'll take her to the nearest safe house," Alaric said, glancing back at Lucius. "And no more feeding tonight."
Lucius smirked, his fangs glinting. "We'll see."
They walked out of the inn with dead bodies in the room and a girl in tow.
The girl, Serenity, clung to Alaric's cloak as they escorted her to the nearest safe house. Her steps were shaky, and her tear-streaked face was pale, but she managed to keep pace.
Alaric spoke to her softly, reassuring her that she was safe now, while Lucius trailed behind them, his dark red eyes—nearly black in the low light—shining with residual hunger.
When they reached the safe house, Serenity hesitated at the door, glancing nervously between the two men. Alaric knelt to her level. "You'll be fine here. These people will look after you. They owe me a favor, so don't worry about a thing."
She nodded, her lips trembling, and disappeared inside. As the door shut, Alaric straightened and turned to Lucius, who was licking a faint streak of blood off his knuckles.
"Really?" Alaric asked, his tone exasperated. "You couldn't wait to wash up before doing that?"
Lucius smirked, his fangs glinting in the moonlight. "Can't let it go to waste, can I?"
Alaric grabbed him by the arm, dragging him toward the nearest bathing house. "You're disgusting. Come on, you need to look halfway decent before going back to my wife."
Lucius allowed himself to be pulled along, his gait lazy and unhurried. "What's the rush? She's your wife, not mine. Why do you care what I look like?"
Alaric pinned him with a gaze, "You don't care what Jean thinks? You want her to wake up to this?"
"Oh?" Lucius frowned in understanding.
"Because you reek of blood and the grave," Alaric shot back, his grip firm. "You look like a feral animal. Do you want to scare the life out of her?"
Lucius chuckled darkly. "She's an archeologist, isn't she? She should be used to monsters by now."
Alaric didn't respond, instead pushing open the door to the bathing house.
The warm scent of oils and steam wafted out, and Lucius hesitated, his expression shifting to something unreadable.
"I haven't…" he began, trailing off.
Alaric softened slightly. "I know. You've been buried for years. This is long overdue."
The bathing house was warm and inviting, with private stalls sectioned off by wooden screens.
A young attendant approached, his eyes widening slightly at the sight of Lucius, but he quickly masked his reaction and bowed.
"This one," Alaric said, nodding to Lucius. "He needs everything—bathing, grooming, the works. Spare no effort."
The attendant gestured for Lucius to follow, but the vampire hesitated. Alaric raised an eyebrow. "What now?"
"I'm not used to this," Lucius admitted, his voice low. "Someone else… touching me."
Alaric sighed. "Trust me, it's better than doing it yourself. Now, go. You're not getting out of this."
Reluctantly, Lucius followed the attendant into one of the private stalls. The sound of water being poured into a large wooden tub echoed softly.
The attendant handed Lucius a bar of soap and a coarse cloth, then hesitated.
"Sir, may I—"
"Just get on with it," Lucius snapped, sinking into the steaming water.
The attendant worked quickly, scrubbing away layers of dirt and dried blood. Lucius's dark hair, which had grown long and unkempt, was washed and trimmed.
His nails, jagged and claw-like from his time in isolation, were meticulously cut and shaped. Despite his initial reluctance, Lucius closed his eyes, allowing himself to relax for the first time in years.
The steam eased the tension in his muscles, and the clean scent of lavender oil replaced the stench of decay.
When he emerged from the stall, his hair neatly trimmed and his skin free of grime, Alaric was waiting, leaning casually against a pillar. He gave a low whistle. "Not bad. You almost look like a civilized man."
Lucius rolled his eyes. "Don't get used to it."
Alaric gestured for him to follow again. "We're not done yet. There's a night market nearby. You need clothes."
As they walked through the bustling streets, the night market came alive with vibrant colors and tantalizing smells.
Merchants called out their wares, and lanterns cast a warm glow over the crowd. Alaric led Lucius to a tailor's stall, where rows of finely made garments were displayed.
The tailor eyed Lucius up and down, his gaze lingering on the vampire's broad shoulders and tall frame. "What are you looking for, my lord?"