Venice wakes up with a start.
Venice swallows heavily, panting as he feels sweat drip from his forehead and run down his flushed cheeks. His hands shake as he feels his body—his muscles chest, his torso and his waist, and he swallows again, his body abnormally shaking intensively.
Venice forced himself to breath through his nose as he runs a hand through his now short, blonde curly hair, but when he drags his hand down and runs it across his face, he stills, noticing a large, white symbol in the form of a slim cross tattooed on his hand, followed by a faint—extremely faint—but still seen slim, red thread that circles around his large wrist. The slim thread flows from his large bed to the floor, and under the door, ending at a unknown destination, but begins at Venice's wrist.
Venice stares at his hand with wide eyes, but suddenly his hand trembles, and his eyelids droop and become too heavy to keep open. A wave of tiredness and lack of energy washes through him, and Venice barely realizes he's dropped himself back on the bed, closing his eyes and falling back into a deep rest.
…
The next time Venice wakes up, it's to a pair of red eyes staring down at him, feeling his hot forehead.
"Y-your Highness," it's a nervous voice that speaks. "Why are you doing such a needless task? Ask the maids to do something this tedious."
"Ron," it's a soft voice that replies, soft and deep, yet calm, like the sea. "If it's so needless, I can handle it."
"You shouldn't touch a criminal!" The nervous voice—Ron—exclaims. "What if he's pretending to be sick? He could attack you and-."
"He must be an extremely good actor," the soft voice said, his voice laced with annoyance. "He must have gotten weak from the bite. I should have been more mindful that it's his first time."
"You bite him?!" Ron exclaims, "Y-you-please don't tell me you did what I think you've done-."
"Then I will not tell." The soft voice said.
"Your Highness, no! You cannot make a contract with a criminal!" Ron exclaims. "That is a terrible decision! Revoke it! Cancel it, now-!"
"Ah, he's awake." The soft voice said, and when Venice opens his eyes, he comes face to face with Victor, his handsome face inches from Venice's own.
"Y-your Highness?" Venice said, slowly blinking as he stutters his words out, his thick accent making his words droop further as he speaks, "Your H-Highness."
"I apologize." Victor said, causing Ron beside him to gasp. "I should have warn you of the effects of the contract. The bite, it is usually painful, and it drains the subject."
"It is a-alright," Venice said, his words delicate and his voice soft. "As long a-as your Highness is a-alright."
Victor doesn't say another word. He only lets out a soft sigh, moving his cold, pale hand to Venice's forehead.
"You'll be bedridden for a day or two," Victor said. "You're body hopefully will get use to the biting, but you'll need time to recover. I can go a day or two without your blood."
Venice nods his head, wanting to say more, but his eyes betray him, forcing him to drift into another deep slumber.
…
The next time Venice wakes it, there's a wet towel on his forehead, his body isn't shivering and shaking as badly, and his tiredness has dissolved a bit.
Venice tries to stand up, feeling his body slightly quiver, but Venice forces his body to use every bit of strength he has, staggering to his bed side until his knees buckle and he falls to the floor. Yet when he lifts his head up, he meets his own eyes in a large mirror, and he sees a pair of red eyes—not his usual green eyes—that stare back at him.
Venice gasps, closing his eyes shut before he opens it again, seeing his green eyes stare back at him again.
Soon after, there is the turn of the door knob and a pair of shoes clacking as Victor burst through the door, walking in long strides to bend down near Venice and examine his swore body.
"Does you knees still hurt?" Victor asked, eyeing Venice's buckled and weak legs. "Your arm and your neck? You also feel-?"
"I-I'm alright, Your Highness." Venice stutters out, surprised at Victor's accurate examination.
"You cannot lie to me," Victor said, pointing to his pale hand before he strips off his white gloves, his right hand revealed to have the same tattoo Venice has on his left. "One of the factors of the contract is when you feel pain, I will feel it numbly."
Venice blinks in surprise, eyeing his own hand.
"Is that the same back, Your Highness?" Venice asked, Victor looks away, clearing his throat.
"You are like a medium, if that makes sense." Victor said, "If I receive injury, then you'll feel it a lot more than I do, if anything, the stronger our bond, the more pain you'll take on."
Victor points to his mouth, where his fangs from prior have returned to normal, straight teeth.
"I said I'd keep you alive," Victor said. "You're blood, and in exchange, I will give you power. That may also be why it's taking so long for you to recover. I do have a lot of it. Power."
Venice blinks, staring at his tattooed hand.
"Are you sure Master wil be alright?" Venice asked, clearing his throat. "I-I don't want Master to be hungry-."
Victor blinks, raises an eyebrow in confusion as his cheeks suddenly flush red.
"Master?" Victor swallows heavily as he speaks. "Never mind that. I will be fine. It'll benefit you more to worry about yourself."
Venice opens his mouth to speak, but he almost squeaks, his big hands hurriedly locked around Victor's neck as the taller man lifts him in his arms, not even flinching as Venice tightens his grip on Victor's neck.
"M-master!" Venice squeals, his deep voice heightened in octaves by his anxiety, "P-please, I-. You do not have to waste your s-strength-!"
"I can feel where it aches you," Victor said. "And your body still trembles. You are still weak. It's fine."
Venice watched as Victor placed him on the bed, wordless drawing the blankets to Venice waist and sitting down near a stool by the bed.
"I-I give thanks to you, my Master." Venice said, swallowing heavily. "Thank you for such care. You needn't do such things."
"Must you call me such a vulgar title?" Victor said, eyeing up at Venice, his red eyes staring at Venice so intensely, it dreams shivers through Venice's body.
"In my culture, those we follow and respect, we deem Master," Venice said, "You are a man needing respect, my Master-."
It's the look Victor gives him, his eyebrow raised, his handsome face focused, and his slanted eyes looking at Venice as if he craves him that instantly stills Venice, making him shiver and sweat, his dark cheeks growing a flushed, crimson red.
"Since I'm your Master," Victor said, eyeing Venice up and down, causing Venice to quiver with a strange, intense feeling, "then yes, I need to do such things. I…I still feel your pain, remember?"
Venice nods his head, but he swallows heavily, noticing Victor reach closer, his handsome face inches from Venice's own, his bright red eyes peering down at Venice, and Venice feels weak, weaker than the vampire bite still causing his neck to ring in soreness.
"Your name," Victor said, clearing his throat, yet he doesn't back away, "The only one who knows your identity, as your face attached to your name, is the guard. Let us keep it that way. To do that, I must call you something else when you are in the castle and about."
Venice swallows, shakily reaching his hand to grab Victor's gloved one. Victor looks up in surprise with a raised eyebrow; Venice stares at Victor with vulnerability, his eyes innocent and bare.
"Call me Kaiser, my Master," Venice—now Kaiser, said, "I'd be honored for you to call me by that name."