Jia Zhang (tokyo_lovelight) wrote,
Jia Zhang

[serial] Blood: "Of Gods and Monsters, Part VI"

"I will love you forever; whatever happens. Until I die and after I die,
and when I find my way out of the land of the dead, I’ll drift about
forever, all my atoms, until I find you again."

- Philip Pullman

“Of Gods and Monsters, Part VI”

As Chanyeol stands before the black gates of Moon Manor, he could feel Victoria ’s blood memories flow into him like a half forgotten dream. This lovely house had been a gift, he now knows, from the human lover his sire had taken—a German named Karl Beckenbauer, a middle aged industrialist from Bavaria who had a deep love of the Orient. He had met Victoria in Shanghai at the turn of the 20th century and fell madly in love with her. He had followed her to Seoul where he had built a house for her. Though, unknown to Beckenbauer, Victoria had been scouring across the Asiatic for Luhan, her allusive eternal husband. She did not regard this mortal man very much, but she did truly and sincerely love the house he had built for her.

“It makes me feel at peace to be here,” she had told him. “It’s so very lovely, a little mix of the elegance of Europe and the serenity of the East. It’s really the only place that I have now where I feel at home.”

Chanyeol gently pushes open the tall gates and passes the threshold. Instantly his body quivered; a hot shiver runs down his spine.

“There is an enchantment guarding my house,” Victoria said with guile grin. “It protects against the unknown and unfamiliar, the uninvited guests, but it will bend to you if your will is strong, Chanyeol ah…”

Chanyeol presses on, ignoring the agony that cuts into his skin. Each step seemed to get more and more difficult, until it felt as if a scalding blade was gutting him from the inside out. There was so much pain. Chanyeol continues forward regardless, seeking distraction in the surrounded trees and thrush. He is suddenly reminded of that night, which seemed like so long ago, when Baekhyun first came. The auburn haired vampire boy carelessly wonders if this was what he felt as well.

He must have loved Tao very much, he thinks.

When he finally reaches the house, Chanyeol suddenly felt the agony lifted from him as if it had been no more than a castoff veil. He breathes, inhaling softly. He gazes at the doors, tall and unassuming, but somehow Chanyeol felt scarred of them.

If you step inside, you’re going to open Pandora’s Box, Victoria had said. Are you prepared for that? Are you ready for what is to come?

But Chanyeol was already past that threshold. There was no going back after tonight. At this very moment, Victoria was Glamouring his family into forgetting everything about him. His old life was disintegrating with each step he took, and the Park Chanyeol of the past would become no more than an old forgotten dream. There would be no return. He had no other path to take.

Slowly, Chanyeol reaches for the knob of the door and gently turns it open.

The red haired vampire boy smiles as he gazes at his surroundings. Everything was just the same—nothing had change. He steps in, pushing himself against the last of the barriers and finds himself standing in the wide spacious foyer of Moon Manor, its walls decorated in paintings. He could hear voices chattering about in the distance—he could hear Krystal and Yixing bickering and it makes him smile. He wondered where Kris was. He wanted to see him so terribly.

Chanyeol’s head turns when a figure enters the foyer; Yoona had her eyes caught in the pages of a book. The boy smiles when he sees her. “Yoona!” he says her name. The long haired vampire looked up and her eyes widened as she stared at the living ghost standing before her. She knew instantly what he was and just what he had done.

Yoona screamed.

Chanyeol jumps, eyes widening in anxiety at the gravity of her response to him. Yoona sobs, falling to the ground, her hand clutched to her mouth as her eyes became stained in red tears. She shook her head, almost as if she couldn’t believe what he had become. Chanyeol quivered. He didn’t think it would be like this.

Her scream soon rouses the attention of the rest of the house.

“What the hell is going—” Krystal stops dead in her tracks as she gazes at the all too familiar ghost standing the entranceway of her home. “Oh—Oh my god.” Beside her, Yixing gapes at him in disbelief as he goes to pick up his lover from off the ground. Chanyeol tries to smile at them, tries to speak, but a single voice silences him.


The vampire boy smiles.

It was Kris.

Chanyeol’s heart swelled to the size of a large balloon. It was he—the man he loved—tall and blond with eyes as rich as topaz. He was dressed in a stunning black suit, looking so very much like the day Chanyeol met him; Kris descends the stairs in the entranceway, his steps tentative. His eyes were shrouded in confusion at the sight of the boy before him—and the horror lit up like a flame inside of those golden orbs as he realized what it was he was truly seeing.

But Chanyeol noticed none of that. He was devoured by his own happiness.

“Kris!” he cried joyously as he flung himself at his lover, wrapping his long arms around the older vampire. The boy kisses him full on the mouth, filled with passion and unmatched ardor. Through that single kiss, Chanyeol wanted to pour all of his love into him, to drown Kris in his endless affection.

When the boy pulls away to gaze at his beloved, the brilliant grin falls ever so slightly from his mouth. Kris gazed at him with tormented eyes filled with blood, his visage broken in grief and horror. Chanyeol peers at him worriedly. He opens his mouth to speak, but when Kris reaches up to cup his face in his hand, the gesture stills the boy into marble.

“What did you do?” Kris asks, his voice inundated with dismay and trepidation, as if the act of speaking hurt him. “What did you do, Chanyeol?”

The boy pulls back in surprise, as if he couldn’t believe of what the older vampire had asked.

“I chose you,” he said softly, his voice barely a whisper. He reaches up, brushing the red tears from his lover’s golden eyes. Chanyeol smiles gently, eyes soft as he looked upon the man he loved. “I chose you.”

Kris grimaces, as if the boy’s words were a thick blade gutting him from his stomach to his lungs. He shakes his head as he holds Chanyeol in his hands like a broken winged little dove. “You shouldn’t have done this—this isn’t—this isn’t what I wanted.”

The boy jerks back from his grasp, burned by his words. The red haired vampire gazes at Kris, shocked. “I came back you,” Chanyeol breathes, astounding at the older man’s reaction. “You sent me away, and I came back…Don’t you—don’t you love me?”

Kris gapes at the boy in distress, trying to hold Chanyeol in his arms only to have him slip away. “No—I love you—I love you. But this—this isn’t you. I didn’t want this for you,” he says, his words filled with agony.

“So you wanted me to live my whole life without you? To die never remembering who you are? To live my entire life with this giant hole in my heart?” the boy asked agonizingly, clutching at his chest.

“I was trying to protect you! I wanted to save you from this life like I didn’t for Tao. I didn’t want you to be like him—”

“I am not like him!” Chanyeol cries. “I am nothing like him…” His mouth trembles as a torrent of red colours his eyes and rains down his cheeks. It hurt to cry. “I came back to you…”


Kris stops suddenly, his eyes locked on the figure standing at the door.

Victoria smiles at him with that terrible smile of hers, her eyes as bright as the sun.

There was a time, the man once named Wu Fan suddenly thinks, when her mere presence brought him so much comfort and joy. They had spent so many years together—without their Mother, without Luhan, without Wu Chun—just the two of them, lost together. She had once been so much to him, blood of his blood, the only sister he ever knew, someone he loved.


Kris roars, flashing his fangs as he tears towards Victoria . She half laughs as he grabs her by the throat, snapping it in his fingers as if she were nothing but a twig. He pushes her against the wall. “Why did you do this!?” he yells furiously. “After everything that has happened, why?!”

She gasps for breath, unable to answer him. She neither resists nor attacks, and the act in itself infuriates him. Kris’ face twists in fury and hatred as he flings her across the room, leaping on top of her and holding her to the ground like an injured prey. He lifts his hand; he meant to kill her.


Chanyeol rips the older vampire away from his maker, pinning him against the cold wooden floor. Krystal moves to act, but Yixing keeps her back, shaking his head—this isn’t our fight, he spoke wordlessly, you’d only make it worse. Kris looks up at Chanyeol in surprise, stunned by the boy’s sudden show of force. But it is the look of utter agony that mars and scars Chanyeol’s beautiful eyes and breaks Kris’ heart into ugly jagged shards.

“Don’t hurt her,” he says firmly, mouth trembling, bright orbs painted in the colours of rose petals.

“Chanyeol…why…” Kris whispers, stunned by his lover’s sadness. He had never seen him so wounded.

“Please…please don’t hurt her. She’s my Maker,” he pleads despairingly, the words as soft as torn feathers. His eyes are trained on the scarlet tears pouring down Chanyeol’s alabaster cheeks. Kris so desperately wanted to touch him, but for some reason his whole body felt as immobile as decayed wood, rooted into the earth. “It isn’t her fault,” the boy says, voice trembling. “She didn’t force me. She didn’t make me do this. I wanted this. I chose this…I chose to be with you. But you don’t want me, do you?” He loosens his grip on Kris and pulls away. The elder leans up gazes at the boy kneeling at the end of his feet.

“You were wrong,” Chanyeol says, looking at Kris ardently, face painted in splotches of bitter red hues—but the older vampire realized he wasn’t speaking to him at all. He was speaking to Victoria . “You were wrong. He doesn’t want me. He doesn’t love me…He never loved me.”

Kris reaches out for him in anguish, but Chanyeol only turns, speeding away like a flash of lightening, leaving the man he loved grasping at transparent things in the poisonous, filthy air.

Slowly, Victoria rises from the ground, her hand upon her neck. She tilts her head lightly as if she were a raptor, her wounds rapidly healing. She sighs as she ambles to her fledgling sibling. “You never learn, do you?” she remarks gravely, looking down at him pityingly.

“Why did you do this?” he asked agonizingly. “Why do this all over again? What did I ever do to make you hate me this way?”

Victoria exhales deeply as she leans down to look at him. “Fan Er, I didn’t do this because I hate you. I don’t hate you at all; you’re my family, the only brother I have left. I didn’t do this because of you. Don’t think so little of me; I do learn from my mistakes. I have no intention of making another err as I did with Tao,” she spoke, kind and gentle. “I didn’t do this to hurt you. I did this because he loves you. That’s all. I did it because of him.” She smiles, brushing the gold from Kris’ eyes. “That boy is the one I have been waiting for; the one Mother spoke of. And when I gave him the choice, he chose—and he chose you.”

Victoria smiles sadly as she rose, turning her back upon him and entering the shallow arms of Nox.

“You should be happy, Kris…after all these centuries, you are luckiest out of all of us,” she said, her words like heavy stones. “You have found one who loves you truly and whom you love in return, one willing to fight for you, to choose you above all else—time and time again.” She turns her face slightly, and Kris thinks that somehow she looks particularly sad, as if she were no more than a mermaid trapped in the thorns of land, unable to touch the sweet sea.

“How lucky you are, brother. How lucky you are.”

Victoria remembers that there was a time when all she had was Kris. After Luhan abandoned her, after Wu Chun’s demise and Jia’s disfiguration, after Hangeng cast them off, Wu Fan had been the only one who stayed at her side, who held her hand and put her back together again piece by piece. When she was nothing but a broken, mangled unicorn, it was Wu Fan who gave her the strength to continue onwards.

“We only have each other now,” he had said, eyes dark and grave, pleading for her not to leave him, because he, too, had been so very afraid of being alone.

And for centuries, that’s all they had—each other.

Victoria often wonders if she had loved Kris as more than just a brother, would things have been easier for them all. The same accursed fate that brought Wu Chun to his death and Luhan to his knees had never touched the golden haired soldier. Wu Fan was always free of burden, free of the cruelty of his own fate. They could have conquered together, built an empire together—she could have been his sword, his queen of all things dark and lovely. But ever since that first day when she met the young brigadier, when Kris was nothing more than Ares on a mighty black stallion, she has felt nothing for him but sisterly affection. She marveled at his strength, his beauty and power—she was always proud of him and never found herself disappointed in her beloved brother, and in return, Wu Fan loved her as sincerely as she did him.

Victoria does not regret often, does not find herself in the bosom of guilt, but when she thinks of Kris and how they were, how dearly he once loved her, she is stricken with the poison of remorse.

It was nearly the end of the Song Dynasty when Wu Fan and she parted ways. They had been companions for nearly five centuries by that point. Things had been good. Song Qian had begun to amass her empire in her quiet search for Luhan, and by 968 AD had established a stronghold in Liaoyang, a city on the edge of the Goguryeo Kingdom. It had been Song Qian’s influence that saw the dominion rise to prominence during the Liao Dynasty. From her vast experience with politicians and courtly intrigue, Song Qian had built herself a restrained empire on an allegiance of northern vampires, including one Heechul, an immortal brother of the vampire Jaejoong, a ruler in Goguryeo at the time.

After the failings of her first progeny, Song Qian had become more careful in choosing her fledglings. She chose to only make young men of beauty and virility. They were blind in their loyalty and love to her, and she had loved them in return. While she trusted her progeny, it had been to her brother Wu Fan that she gave her faith. He was her right hand, her most loyal general. It had been a happy time for her, the happiest time since she lost Luhan to the ugliness of lust and lies.

But Song Qian had come to realize that like her, Wu Fan was searching. She knew how heartbroken her brother had been when Jin Ah had left him—she knew his pain intimately, for it was her own and it cut into her just as deeply. But Wu Fan was not like her. He could not seek Jin Ah like she did for Luhan. At the beginning, she only really did just want him to be happy—but she had come too far, and all her good intentions had become polluted by the vile thing growing insight of her heart.

Victoria had not been like Tiffany; she does not seek tangled webs. She finds that Fate, more than often, introduces all the pieces we need.

Tao had been just a boy when they met him, a peasant’s son sold into slavery. It had been Wu Fan who found him, thin and pale with eyes as dark as obsidian gems, and bought him for a lone silver tael.

Victoria had always wondered what Kris had seen in Tao, what he had desired about the boy. She always found her fledgling to have been unremarkable in mortal life. He was not devious or clever, not particular smart or stupid. Just a boy, really. A beautiful boy nonetheless, but Tao’s beauty, she thinks, was like the Moon—only a pale reflection of the Sun’s brilliant radiance. (Hence, it had not surprised her when Chanyeol had eclipsed him so easily in Kris’ eyes centuries later.)

But obstinate, kind Wu Fan could not simply take what he lusted for. He was too honourable for that. (Nothing like her husband, she used to think with mild irritation.) He had brought the boy into their home and had given him into her charge.

“We could use another pair of hands to take care of the day work,” he had said simply to Song Qian’s amusement.

Victoria had never intended to make Tao a vampire—everything happened by circumstance. She had no use for a boy like Tao, but after all these centuries, as she often gazed at the jar bearing the scarlet viscera of her doomed progeny, she thinks that perhaps her choice to make Tao was to bind her brother—to make it so that Wu Fan would not leave her and drift away. It was too unbearable to carry the weight of all those centuries on her shoulders, and none of her fledglings could fill the void that Luhan had gouged out her soul when he left her.

As time passed them by like sand against the waves, Song Qian had seen a great hideous change overcome Wu Fan, transforming him from the magnificent champion he once was to a mere shadow of his former self. She did not wish to see him fray like Wu Chun or Luhan, to be cut down and ruined by the weight of his own heart. She wanted to make him strong again, to make him the man he used to be. And as she watched him lust for the boy that lived in their house, Song Qian contrived something foul, an act built in nothing but selfishness and greed. (It would be no surprise, she thinks, that Tao would never love her as her other children did. After all, she never made him out of love. He was only a means to an end.)

She only wanted to make his heart beat again—she didn’t think it could all turn out so awful.

It had been a very spontaneous manifestation. It had been a warm autumn eve at the end of the Song Dynasty, Victoria remembers. She had been seated at her vanity, draped in beautiful silks, her long black hair flowing down her shoulders. Tao had knocked on her door and entered, tall and angular, holding a small basin to which he would use to wash his mistress’ feet. Song Qian had watched in curiosity and interest as Tao cleaned diligently (he was a good worker, grateful to be alive and well fed in a wealthy house). She wondered and wondered and wondered of what it was her brother saw in the boy—was it love, she thought, pondering of Wu Fan’s haunt of Tao, gazing at him from afar, his eyes and limbs burning with want.

“What is it that he sees in you…” she had spoken absentmindedly.

The dark haired boy looked up. “My lady?”

Song Qian grabbed Tao by the throat, pulling him into her arms. She encircled him like a serpent, sinking her fangs into his neck and ripping him open viciously. There is no love—she drinks and drinks, and she takes too much. The scent must of have drifted far, for in a flash Wu Fan came crashing through the doors of her chambers. Song Qian looked up, gazing at her brother’s stoned visage, his vivid eyes gazing at the sight in horror—Wu Fan saw the boy he longed for, limp and lifeless and covered in red, his beloved sister wrapped around him like a Leviathan, eating him, devouring him.

Jie…” Wu Fan spoke, but his words die in the air like flies.

Slowly, Song Qian pulled away from the dying boy in her arms, her mouth gluttoned with blood. Her golden eyes were trained on her brother, piercing him, nailing him to the wall.

“It’s your choice, Fan Er. Do I let him die?” she asked.

But Wu Fan cannot speak, he does not know how, and the horror of it all consumed him like black flames.

“Do I let him die, Wu Fan?” Song Qian asked again. “Do you want him? If you want him, I will give him to you, and he will be yours. Do you want him?”


One word was all it needed to bring it all to ruins.

Song Qian brought her wrist to her mouth, tearing the skin. A river of crimson flows down against the beautiful alabaster of her arm. She brought the blood to Tao’s lips, pouring it down his throat. In an instant, it ignited something inside of the dying child and changed him forever.

The rest was an all too familiar tragedy, a tale made for the ages.

Victoria had only made two errs in creating her progeny—there was the first, the only daughter she ever turned, a beauteous girl-child who would ruin her world; and the second was Tao, a boy who loathed her as much as he was forced to love her.

But all these terrible things, Victoria thinks as she finds herself gazing at Chanyeol, were preordained. It was all meant to happen—all the death, all that hatred and vengeance. There needed to be a Tao for Chanyeol to exist, for him to come into Kris’ heart and to fall into Victoria’s life, to fill that sickening abyss inside of her.

As she watched the bloodstained smile stretch across Chanyoel’s mouth, for the first time in very a long time, Victoria didn’t feel so alone.

Seoul at night was a marvel, with bright lights like diamonds scattered across a veil of black velvet. It is a quiet night like most nights, but for the boy who would be King of this city, he could hear everything.

Chanyeol is covered in blood. The bathroom floor of his luxurious hotel room was painted in cherry ink. The vampire boy peers at his reflection in the black glass, hair matted from drying blood, clothes horribly stained in all hues of red. His last prey was an obese pedophile that proved to be much harder to consume than previously thought; Chanyeol had ripped open his jugular only to find himself drowned in a torrent of red.

Victoria looks him up and down, shaking her head lightly, a slight scowl perched on her brow.

“Look at you,” she remarks irritably. “You’re an utter mess.”

The boy pouts as his warm eyes fall upon his sire. “There was much more blood than I thought!” he whines unhappily. He looks down at his hands with a frown: they were covered in thick satiny scarlet. “Such a waste; I didn’t even get to drink it all.” He sticks out his tongue and licks at his fingers, savoring the sweet crimson elixir; Victoria swats him on the hand, looking at him admonishingly.

“Don’t do that,” she said. “Manners, Chanyeol.” She sighs as she gazes at him. “Let’s get you into a nice bath, shall we?”

Victoria helps the boy out of his clothes as if she were plucking the petals off a rose. Chanyeol was surprised at how unabashed he felt before her; he didn’t feel shy at all when he found himself exposed. But then, how could he, he thinks, she was his Maker—blood of his blood, the small god of his whole universe. Chanyeol lowers himself into the warm water, dipping his body into the deep and letting it wash away everything. He rises from the depth and takes a heavy breath, running his hands through his wet locks still tangled up in rouge.

Victoria seats herself at the edge of the bathtub; she rolls up her sleeves and motions for the shampoo, which Chanyeol hands her. As his maker pours the cleanser into his red locks and begins to wash the blood out of his hair, Chanyeol leans his back lazily against the cool porcelain and exhales, eyes staring out at the infinite sky outside. He draws his fingers over his arms, rinsing the last remnants of crimson blood off his pale skin.

“Do you think I was too harsh?” he spoke softly, his voice a dim echo in the well of the bathroom, his head hung idly to the side.

“Perhaps a little,” Victoria replies as she continues to rinse his hair. “If you meant to hurt Kris, you certainly achieved your goal.”

“I was angry,” the vampire boy says with a pertinent frown, moving his hands carelessly across the skin of the water.

Victoria stills, her lithe hands tangled up in soap suds and red. “Do you really believe that he does not love you?”

Chanyeol is excruciatingly silent. “I know he loves me—I know that, but…I don’t think he loves me the way I love him,” the boy answers softly, eyes gazing as the blood turned his bath pink. “If he had to choose, when it comes down to—if he had to choose, I know he won’t choose me.” He turns back to look at his Maker, her eyes unreadable. “Did you think he would act this way?”

“I guessed, but I did not think he would be as angry as he was,” she said, resuming the washing of the boy’s hair. “Do you think your choice was a mistake?”

Chanyeol shakes his head, long fingers toying with the water. “No, I’m happy with my choice. I’m happy with what I am; it’s how difficult things are that frustrates me. But I won him over once before, you know, when he was a lot worse than he is now, so I hardly think it will be difficult to do it again.” She grins lightly at his response, his determination of particular pride and amusement to her.

“Then why such dramatics?” she asked. “Why wear such ugly lies as truths?”

“I wanted to hurt him. I wanted him to know how much he had hurt me,” he spoke, pale venom surging through his words. “I want to smother him in guilt.”

Victoria stills and a memory echoes across the continent of her skin.

I want to hurt him—I want him to know just how much he hurt me. I want to cut his heart out, because he has broken mine. I want to hurt him so much he will never think of anything else but me.

Slowly, the raven haired vampire tilts Chanyeol’s head back, dipping his red locks into the rose-coloured water. The vampire boy’s vivid aureate eyes stare up at her. “What is it?” he asked as he found himself pinned like a little butterfly beneath her gaze.

“I wonder how things would be if you had met him early—before it all happened. He always needed someone like you, unbound by duty and obligation,” she remarks plainly. “He didn’t always used to be so righteous. My Mother made him to be a soldier—Kris—Wu Fan and his brother, Wu Chun. They were meant to be soldiers.”

Chanyeol blinks at the mention of his lover’s real name, turning around, his chin rested at the edge of the tub, fingers clutching the porcelain.

“I didn’t know Kris had another brother,” the vampire boy remarks curiously. “He told me about Luhan and Hankyung a little once, but he’s never mentioned a Wu Chun.”

Victoria smiles vaguely, her eyes glazed and lost. Chanyeol wondered what she was thinking of, but he knew better than to pry into his maker’s mind.

“I’m not surprised, honestly,” Victoria says as she lifts her slim hand to his cheek. “After—After Wu Chun met the True Death, we just…it was hard to think of what to say, and so we choose not to speak of him at all. It’s a heavy memory.” She frowns as she looks into Chanyeol’s sparkling eyes, her thumb gently stroking his skin. “I don’t think—I don’t think Kris would be so pious if Wu Chun hadn’t met the True Death. If Wu Chun had lived—” She smiles sadly, treading her fingers through the boy’s fiery locks. “I guess you have me to blame for that.”

“Mother?” the boy asked, reaching up to touch at his maker’s soft cheek. She looked so morose, as if something was trying to claw itself out from between her lungs.

But abruptly, her demeanor changes, and Victoria smiles at him with that charming grin. “It’s a long story. We’ll save it for some other night. First, we need to get you clean—you’re going to be meeting everyone tonight.”

Chanyeol pales and gulps nervously. “Everyone?”

“Yes—tonight, my coven will have gathered,” she says. “Tonight, we will begin the next act in our play.”

Victoria noticed the look of grave trepidation on the boy’s face and the pout perched on his mouth and cannot help but want to laugh. She leans forward and kisses his eyes kindly.

“You have nothing to worry of—trust me, darling,” she says. “All of your brothers will love you as I do. And you will do marvellously to lead them.”

“I-I don’t know if I can…I’ve never been that kind of guy,” the auburn haired vampire says wistfully. “I was never strong or smart or good at anything. I don’t have their knowledge or their strengths. How can I lead them when it is I who should be led?”

“Sometimes, my love, Fate crafts for us the role to which we must play—but we vampires, we are unbound by Death, we are limitless. You have nothing to fear,” she says warmly, a soft glow in her eyes that twinkles like fireflies in the dim dusk. “You will be wonderful, my little prince, because you are mine.”

She takes him into her embrace, and Chanyeol felt himself melt with solace. His bright eyes gaze out at the city—his city—and as he heard all the voices and thoughts and dreams, he thinks that perhaps he was never meant to be a mundane, perhaps this was always meant to be his path.

Perhaps, this was his destiny.

Author's Note: Honestly, sorry about the long wait for the update. I literally rewrote this chapter FIVE FUCKING TIMES. I just couldn't get out what I wanted and it kept sounding off and wrong and uuuuurgh. Originally, the past scene was supposed to be about Luhan and Victoria and what happened after she was commanded to be the King's concubine, but it didn't work out, so I decided to jump ahead to explore Victoria's relationships with Chanyeol, Kris and Tao. As such, the parts in the past will probably be unveiling rather sporadically and out of order. But I will reveal what happened between Luhan and Victoria, Wu Chun, as well as why Victoria and Kris parted ways soon. There are a lot of key details in this chapter I hope you guys pick up on and make you curious. ^^

I found this to be an extremely wonderful chapter in terms of character development, especially with Chanyeol coming more into himself. The first scene was not exactly what I wanted it to be, but I don't think I can rewrite that any better so I just left it as it was. I know it was really dramatic and sad and asdkfjdlskgl, but it had to happen. It can't be that easy and I'm pretty sure a lot of you saw that coming.

There will be more to come soon. I hope to get another chapter out quickly because I go on vaca in a couple of months and that will give me less time and focus to write. I have so many stories backlogged though, omg. /cries

Anyways, thanks for reading guys, and as always, comments are epic ♥
Tags: fandom: exo, fandom: f(x), genre: angst, genre: au, genre: gothic, genre: romance, pairing: kris/chanyeol, story: blood
  • Post a new comment


    Anonymous comments are disabled in this journal

    default userpic

    Your IP address will be recorded