When Blindfolds Fall

29: Falls

Nothing is certain in life, not even in an immortal one. Love, happiness, dreams. All fleeting illusions of being alive.

Death and misfortune are always inevitable. The fine distinction between one and the other is that one must fall to see the only real certainties in this world.

Viktor Bloodfern was born into a lifestyle that should have set up his happiness and comfort for as long as he lived. He had the wealth, a home, a family, and one of the most prestigious professions.

He met his mate, he had a daughter, he had a home, and stability. He had it all.

Despite how superficially perfect his life was set up, simultaneously, he was also set up for despair.

Being a doctor is no easy task, but being a royal one is even more impossible. While doctors are supposed to know everything about vampire bodies and choose one area of expertise, royal doctors are expected to be specialized in every area of medicine known to man.

Viktor spent his whole childhood indoors, readings books and medical dictionaries. Every ounce of affection or approval he desired, had to be earned by proving to his parents he was well above expectations. He never desired anything, in his parents words, he was the perfect child.

Viktor never cried, never complained, nor pestered them with requests such as physical affection, encouragement, or affirmations. Most future royal doctors wish to give up as soon as they are five years old, but Viktor never said a word. He was never a bother to his parents.

In his adolescent years, perhaps Viktor wanted to make up for what he missed out on in his early childhood. He started craving that approval, that praise, and that affirmation that he was worth something from his parents. But he never received it unless it was exchanged by a proof that he exceeded his father's standards.

He disliked his father since he could remember, he was always the one to scold him and be harsh for no real reason. But the rest of his family was different. Viktor was now ready to admit that.

He grew up with his grandparents in his childhood, and they cared for him like his parents should have. His mother tried at times to comfort him after his father's yelling, but when it came to defending him before him, suddenly there were no more maternal instincts.

Viktor's grandparents left the house and never came back. Never to check on him, make sure he was okay, and he needed that since their absence. All he was left with was a father who didn't see him as a son, and a mother who was too stuck up and afraid to go against him. Even if she knew he was wrong.

Viktor grew bitter, scornful at his parents for expecting so much of him and rewarding him with so little. Why did it always have to be a training and reward system with them? Was he being their son not reason enough to receive love from them? Ultimately though, he received the news that he was indeed, never loved by them.

Rebelliousness took over him by the time he was fifteen, and when he was finally twenty one, he decided to leave that life behind for a better one.

Often times, Viktor pondered over and over who was to blame for the waking nightmare that his life became. Was it him for wanting what others took for granted, or was it his parents for raising him in a loveless mansion?

Alas, he would never know anymore.

Doctor Bloodfern spent the last hours of the night before his second trial sitting alone on the cold ground of a prison tower in the castle. The winter pronounced the chilliness in the air, making every one of his breaths rise in the atmosphere like a cloud.

Yet even despite the cold temperature, Viktor was only in his pants and with his hair wet from the cold water he had splashed on his head. For the first time in four hundred years, Viktor rested his palms on the icy surface of the granite sink in his cell, without any gloves on.