Red Rose, White Thorns ( mxm | mpreg )

1.)

He was fragile, oh so delicate in a way unseen by most. Perhaps it was the way his bones stuck out like perfectly shaped porcelain from his flesh or the red and purpled tinted skin under his ever-sleepy eyes. He was sickeningly white, his pale eyes always looking hard at the blued veins crisscrossing under his skin like a never-ending set of wires; wires that he wished he could rip out of his skin. He was the only one that saw this beauty- to everyone else the thin boy was sick, a twisted monstrosity to never have been born, only birthed to be hidden away in the furthest of sheds, one day hoping he would be buried deep into the ground. 

He'd named himself Birdie, purely for the reason he enjoyed the way the feathered puffs would feed from his cold and pale hands, hopping up on his slim fingers like a bony perch as they ever so slightly tapped their pointed beaks on his palms. The birds would always come back to him no matter what- they didn't care if he was strange, he told himself. 

They were his refuge- no matter how many times the sharply pointed canines that rested on his top teeth were pulled in some sort of retaliation or attempt to fix him, they came back anyways, flitting and chirping around in his threadbare shed, even as it had slowly begun to collapse onto its side until it was supported by a tree and dangerously close to falling down, they still came to accompany him. 

No one quite knew how he'd managed to live this long- many said it was simply a curse that would never be rid of them, and others swore he was from the devil himself. The cursed mix between a human pet and a vampire lord. It was unheard of, truly- everyone knew a human couldn't bare the child of a vampire, only other undead had the capability! Yet here Birdie was, sickly and hovering over the family like a curse, only he and his dead mother took the blame, not his father that had 'tamed' the poor woman. 

Birdie knew he was merely biding his time, there would be a point he would be used as profit, and it seemed that time had come today.

-

He awoke to the sound of multiple boots crunching against the dirt, murmurs of several men taking over the eery forest. Birdie knew why they were there, they were there for him. This was only proven once the swarm filed into his tiny house, knocking over his meager possessions and carelessly trampling his carefully-placed rock decor. 

The dhampir found that he wasn't sad or irritated by such, but just sleepy and cold. The winter had been a harsh one, and Birdie knew he was testing his physical and mental limitations. With an uncaring grasp, they easily cuffed and bound him, a harsh roped tied around the back of his head to gag him, baring his thin and unused fangs on display. 

Birdie could already feel the rope burning and rubbing along the sides of his lips, trying to bite down best he could in a futile attempt to hinder the injury. He was dragged and marched down the tiny path he'd worn into the soil from all his years in the forest, and promptly shoved up into a rather foul smelling cart. 

There, he was bound by his neck to a post like some sort of farm livestock, his wrists and neck already worn red and bleeding what little blood he could spare. He was growing more and more... upset. He wasn't quite sure what the emotion was, a feeling of incredible discomfort and stomach-turning tiredness. 

Perhaps he was okay with this to an extent?

As the carriage bobbled down the pathways of the village, his drooping red eyes could see mother hiding their children, or scowling glares from the men. Birdie could only stare back, his jaw aching as drool continued to slide down his jaw like some sort of rabid beast. He wasn't rabid, Birdie knew that much, what little strength he had left went towards making it to the next day, he had no time to attack under any premise.

The parade continued on down the alleyways of both poor and rich alike, until at last it seemed he'd reached his destination. It was a looming castle of sorts, styled to seem sharp and imposing with concrete monsters guarding from the tops of each terrace.

Birdie was led inside, over polished granite floors and thick, warm carpet, until finally he was shoved town to the tile in an elegant tea room. The place seemed eery almost, the same loneliness that filled the woods was present here, from the billowing drapes to each plush sofa coated in a fine layer of dust. 

"You may leave"

The voice held a command of power, issuing the guard at his side to silently step away into an unknown hallway or room, Birdie hadn't even noticed the change in guard, nor the entrance of this seemingly highly respected man.

It was just the pair, alone. He stood before Birdie, much taller and sharper with cascading dark locks and slightly tanned skin, his eyes holding the same listless gaze at life that Birdie's did- they were nearly one within the same.

"So, you seem to be the little pet" he mused, elegant hands moving too easily undo the knotted rope. The worn mess dropped the floor as Birdie wiped the drool off his face and dried to spit out any of the fibers he got stuck in his teeth, quietly hissing each time his wrists bent in a way that pulled at his marred skin. 

"Your name?"

Birdie was forced to look up at the man, for his fingers had laced through the dhampir's colorless locks to gently grip and tilt his head. He didn't register the words at first, instead trembling and pressing into the touch- how could he have gone so long with out such?!

"Birdie"

His rasped voice spoke, unused and quiet, yet it earned him a smile. Had he done well? "Very well then, Birdie. From today onwards, you're mine."

It seemed he had.