Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Gerhard knew Dali was a menace from the second their eyes met.

He didn’t even have to say anything; his posture, his smile, the family crest on the side of his luggage told Gerhard everything he needed to know about the other vamp.

If not for the medication making him dizzy, Gerhard would have stormed the principal’s office demanding to be relocated to another room.

In the end, he just went to bed with a headache.

Their subsequent interactions weren’t any better.

Unfortunately for him, sharing chambers with the other vampire meant they had to tolerate each other on a daily basis; at any rate, way more than Gerhard would have ever wanted to.

Arrogant. Irritating. Careless.

No, worse – carefree.

Truly, there was no shortage of expletives to describe Dali.

Gerhard didn’t know how he put up with him.

“Honestly, I think you’re going a bit overboard. The year just started. You know what would actually be a better use of our time? A stroll through the gardens. The fresh air would do us good.”

A tap on the desk. Two, three.

“Don’t you agree, Goldilocks?”

Gerhard’s hold on his pen tightened.

“I already told you not to address me in such a manner.”

“Fine, fine.” A beat. “Goldie.”

His eye twitched. Four taps. Five, six, seven –

“Stop that.”

“Hmm?”

The tip of his fountain pen was starting to bend where it pressed against the paper.

“Stop it.”

“Stop what?” Another tap.

Gerhard snatched the pencil from the other’s hand, chair rattling with the force of the movement. He felt more than saw it break cleanly in half under his palm.

For a moment, Dali simply stared at him.

Then –

“Pfft – Hahaha!”

Gerhard grabbed his belongings with a growl, shoving them in his bag while the other laughed his lungs out.

What a horrid sound.

Loud and unbridled – completely inappropriate for a noble of his status.

“Gerhard – Ger, wait –”

He didn’t wait. His heels clacked on the stone of the corridor as he got out of the study room, knuckles white on his bag strap. Distantly, footsteps hurried to catch up.

Dali fell in step with him moments later.

“My, I apologize, I didn’t mean to irk you.”

What a monumental failure, then.

“But what I said earlier – it’s true. There’s no use in overexerting yourself this early on. We barely have any assignments yet – why not just enjoy our time here while we still can?”

“Because,” Gerhard grit out, words clipped, “we aren’t here on vacation. This isn’t some fancy holiday resort. Have you forgotten where we are, and who we are? I thought you’d know better as a Delico.”

He spat the last sentence with a scowl. “Looks like I have overestimated you.”

Dali simply smiled.

“Are all the Fra like this, or is it just you?”

Opening the door to the courtyard, Gerhard stepped into the sun and made his way along the gravel path bordered by privet. The rose bushes were in full bloom, their sweet aroma hanging in the air.

The other followed him like a shadow.

“Don’t you have anyone else to bother with your presence?”

“I fail to see what you mean. I like spending my time with you.”

Gerhard grimaced. “Pleasure not shared.”

Dali hummed, obviously amused.

“What a shame… Should I remind you that our fathers are best friends?”

“That has nothing to do with us.”

“Ah but, Gerhard! It has everything to do with us!” His black hair followed the movement of his head as he bent to catch Gerhard’s gaze. “If they managed to be friends, why can’t we?”

Gerhard resolutely stared ahead.

“Because it doesn’t mean anything. We aren’t them.”

“We don’t have to be them to be friends though,” Dali said easily.

“Just as we don’t have to be friends because they are.”

“Why not?”

Dali almost bumped into his back as Gerhard stopped short, a hand coming to fist in his blonde tresses. Why, why, why; was Dali a bloody child?!

“… This is the last time I’m warning you, Delico. Leave me alone, or there will be consequences.”

He abruptly turned to glare at the other, daring him to reply. Dali just stared back, dark eyes shimmering. Gerhard instinctively tensed as Dali licked his lips, mouth opening to say something offensive, no doubt, when –

“Heeey! Dali-boooy!”

A short teen ran up to them, reddish brown hair disheveled. He bounded up to Dali with a grin, hand coming to pat him on the shoulder.

Without another word, Gerhard slipped away, ignoring the repeated calls of his name.

The library might be reasonably empty at this hour. If he was lucky, maybe he could finally get some studying done there.

*****

Growing up, Gerhard had always been praised. His looks, his intelligence, his education; everything about him was well above par.

As expected from the heir to the Fra family.

He never lacked admirers, nor people to compliment his every move. He knew – objectively – that he was easy on the eyes, gifted with a sharp wit and exemplary manners.

And yet… yet.

He also knew that whatever he did, it would never be enough.

Somewhere in the distance, people laughed. Gerhard didn’t look up, finger thumbing absentmindedly at the paper in his lap. It was a pleasant afternoon, the leaves above him rustling gently in the late summer breeze.

It had been days since the letter was delivered to him. He had to write back soon, he really did. He had already memorized all the words within; knew how to answer each insistent question.

Yet, something bitter coiled up in his stomach whenever he tried to.

There was no question about his wellbeing, about how he was adjusting to life in the Clan. No questions about him. Only queries about his grades, his fencing training, his violin practice.

It was brought to my attention that Delico’s son joined the Clan shortly before you did. Have you two met?

In the background, more laughter.

If so, what is your impression of him?

Dali was in the middle of a small crowd, animatedly talking about something. His small ponytail bobbed in time with his head as he looked around, hands flying every which way, seemingly in the middle of recounting a story.

It appears that he possesses extraordinary swordsmanship skills, and is diligent in his studies. Claude often lauds his accomplishments when we meet for tea.

Several members of the Council already have an eye on him, including Lord Vlad.

The vamps surrounding him cackled, clearly charmed right off their feet. Their guffaws rung through the courtyard, reaching even the remote bench Gerhard was brooding on.

That being said, I have no doubt that it will soon be your turn. I know you will uphold the honor of House Fra, as is your duty. I expect to hear great things from you very soon, my son.

Fleetingly, their eyes met. Dali gave him a smile and a wave, his voice ringing in Gerhard’s ears.

Should I remind you that our fathers are best friends? If they managed to be friends, why can’t we?

Gerhard immediately looked away.

Friendship. Best friends.

Hah. Such fatuous concepts.

If friendship equated to constant competition and spending your life envying what the other had, Gerhard didn’t want it.

He resolutely folded back the letter and slid it between the pages of his book, going back to his reading. There was no use in dwelling over his situation. Some things were just meant to be. Gerhard was being ridiculous; he blamed it on the heat and hormones.

He was about to reach the chapter’s climax – was Lady Camellia about to confess to the handsome detective helping with her investigation? – when he felt a sudden brush against his ear.

Gerhard shot forward with a start, gasping as he batted the sensation away.

“Oh – I’m –”

Whatever Dali was about to say was cut off at the knees, both vampires staring at each other in disbelief.

On the bench between them stood a lone peony, bright red against the white stone.

“…I apologize,” Dali finally murmured, bending to retrieve the flower. To his credit, he did seem to regret his actions. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Gerhard took an embarrassingly long time to compose himself, sending the other a severe scowl. “Wh– what is the meaning of this?” he demanded.

Damn his stutter.

Had… had Dali just tried to tuck the peony behind his ear?

“Ah, you just seemed down – I thought this would cheer you up...” Dali looked at him as if transfixed. “Its color made me think of your eyes.”

He blinked then, finally seeming to regain some of his senses at the blond’s prolonged silence. Gazing at the flower in his hand, he shot Gerhard an impish grin. “Don’t tell the gardener?”

Gerhard bolted in the direction of the dormitories.

“Wait – sorry, sorry. Hey, you like to read?” He rapidly joined him, motioning to the book clasped against Gerhard’s chest. “I know that author. My mother also likes romantic mysteries.”

Heavens, Gerhard’s face was about to catch fire.

“Get lost!” he shouted, praying that no one was bearing witness to this embarrassing scene.

“Now, now. There’s nothing embarrassing about liking these,” Dali said, as if reading his mind. “I find this author to be quite skilled, in fact. Their descriptions are always very vivid. Have you read Under the Moonlight? The plot was quite predictable, but the romance between Lord Walsh and Lenore –”

Gerhard sped up until he reached the door, pushing it open without waiting for Dali to finish that horrendous sentence. He shouldered it close as fast as possible –

When a crack and a yelp made him freeze.

Panting, he stood in the dark corridor as something – someone – crashed on the ground outside.

His first instinct was to flee. Find another quiet place far from prying eyes and annoying vampires.

His second though, much more prominent, told him to immediately open the door. What was wrong with him? Had he just shut the door in the face of the next Delico family head? The Fras and Delicos had always been at odds, sure, but he wasn’t supposed to escalate their rivalry into a full-blown diplomatic war. If their fathers learnt of this…

He shut his eyes painfully as a familiar wave of dizziness washed over him. Shit, he had really done it now.

Grasping the handle, he opened the door to see Dali flat on his bottom, a hand covering his nose. He didn’t seem to notice Gerhard as he looked down at his crimson-coated palm. Gerhard’s stomach lurched.

“Dali.”

Momentarily putting his pride aside, he stumbled closer to the other vampire.

“Dali, I apologize. I –”

Quick as a snake, Dali grabbed his forearm and pulled him down. Gerhard ungracefully fell to his knees, not even noticing the blood staining his once pristine shirt as the other’s breath wafted across his face.

“You really owe me now,” Dali whispered, arrogant smile large despite the steady drip from his nose. Gerhard’s eyes widened.

“What –”

“Have tea with me. Tomorrow afternoon after class. Meet me in front of the cypress tree by the staff entrance, and I’ll consider this incident never happened.”

Gerhard was frozen. They were so, so close, he could count the other’s lashes –

With one swift move, Dali slipped the peony behind his ear.

In retrospect, Gerhard truly didn’t regret getting his book dirty that day.

*****

“Are you free tomorrow?"

“No.”

“What about Thursday?”

“No.”

“Alright. Friday then. I’ve heard Julian and Mathis are hosting a card game night in their room. We should go together!”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I do not know these people.”

“Yes you do. They play the cello two rows behind you.”

Gerhard didn’t reply, fastening another button on his doublet. Dali sighed.

“Besides, if we go together, you will at least know one person. So come with me.”

“No.”

“Fine, fine. How about going to town instead?”

Finishing with his buttons, Gerhard moved to carefully rearrange his high collar, checking that it covered his nape properly.

“We are not allowed to leave the Clan grounds during our Cocoon phase.”

“Please, we both know students sneak out at night. Even the teachers are aware of this. It wouldn’t be the first nor last time it happened. Come. Sir Henrique told me a new bakery recently opened on Fountain Square. I will buy you whatever sweet you want – my treat.”

“I do not like sweets.”

Gerhard did, but Dali didn’t need to know that.

“Really? That sure is strange,” Dali mused. The blond could hear his grin from where he stood, a hint of smugness coating his words. “You were putting so much sugar in your tea the other day, that for a moment I thought you were trying to make syrup. Almost fooled me.”

Gerhard immediately bristled, scowling at his reflection in the mirror. If Dali could avoid mentioning their little tea party ever again, he would be most grateful. Of course the sly bastard had wanted them to drink in the gazebo, in plain view of every vamp coming out of the school building. He did not want to be reminded of all the odd looks they had received that afternoon.

“My answer is still no,” he spat, grabbing his corset with a bit more force than necessary.

“Let’s –”

“No.”

“You don’t even know what I was about to propose.”

A rare tint of irritation tinged Dali’s voice, and Gerhard couldn’t suppress a self-satisfied smirk despite his headache.

“No need. My answer wouldn’t have changed anyway.”

Dali shuffled his covers around, grumbling something unintelligible under his breath before finally stilling.

In the ensuing quietness, Gerhard let out a small sigh of relief, at last able to focus on the familiar motions of his hands.

His fingers nimbly hooked the busk together, eyes not once leaving the mirror.

“Say, I’ve been meaning to ask for a while now, but do you really need that?” Dali murmured.

Gerhard pulled on the loops at the back, the corset minutely tightening over his form.

“Your posture isn’t bad.”

The blond sniffed condescendingly.

“This isn’t for posture.”

“Then?”

Once satisfied, he tucked the extra lace away and turned to the kerosene lamp on the wall, lowering its wick until the flame went out. Back finally hitting the mattress, his eyes fluttered closed.

Just in time: somewhere down the corridor five heavy strokes echoed loudly, officially announcing their curfew.

“Gerhard.”

“Heavens, just go to sleep.”

“I asked you a question.”

Gerhard’s fingers twitched. He contemplated ignoring him, but he knew that wouldn’t get him very far; Dali had a terrible tendency to be stubborn, and Gerhard was too exhausted to resist him like he usually did. The faster their conversation ended, the better.

“It’s an added safety,” he answered honestly.

“Added safety?” Dali parroted.

“Yes. It’s more difficult to remove the doublet this way.”

Gerhard let that information sink in, breaths evening. Let the other figure the rest on his own.

“Why would you…” A beat.

“… Are you wearing that because of me?”

He didn’t reply.

“You cannot be serious.” The bedframe creaked. “Is this what you Fras really think of us?”

Gerhard’s eyes flew open at the sudden alarm painting Dali’s voice, glancing at the other in the darkness. The sliver of moonlight making its way through the curtains illuminated Dali’s distraught expression clearly.

He went still, heart skipping a beat.

“Is this what you really think of me?”

“What? This is not about you,” Gerhard heard himself say.

“But it is, clearly. What have I ever done to make you think so lowly of me?”

Gerhard looked on, astonished, as Dali sat up abruptly. He wasn’t wearing his usual ribbon, dark locks framing his face in a way that made him seem much, much older, the hurt expression in his eyes much fiercer. Something in Gerhard’s gut twisted.

No, damn him – why was he feeling ashamed? He had no reason to. He was in the right here. The random spike of distress in his stomach immediately morphed into irritation.

“Nothing, aside from being born a Delico,” he spat, hands fisting in his sheets. “Now stop causing a scene and go to sleep. It is late.”

“Causing a scene? Do you even hear yourself?” Dali asked disbelievingly. “How would you react in my stead?”

Gerhard turned his face to the wall, fully intent on ignoring the other, but Dali seemed to have other plans.

“I cannot believe this. You are the son of my father’s best friend. How could you think I would ever want to take your Initiative? Does our father’s friendship mean nothing to you?”

“No!” Gerhard shot upward, his bellow deafening in the small space. His clothing compressed his ribcage so tightly every breath hurt. “You keep mentioning that ever since we got here. What don’t you understand? Their relationship has nothing to do with us!”

Dali’s face contorted, but Gerhard continued.

“Come to your senses. Did you really expect me to sleep soundly baring my neck to a rival House? Has your father taught you nothing? One bite, and I could make you my slave for life.” He shuddered at the idea. “Bloody ridiculous.”

“If you were not so trusting and reckless, you would do the same as me.”

Gerhard laid back down with a huff, heartbeat radiating in his temples. He pressed at his forehead in the hopes of alleviating the excruciating pressure in his skull, to no avail.

Dali didn’t speak for a long while.

“…That is where you are wrong about us, Gerhard. I know what you could be capable of if you wanted to. But I don’t fear you, because I would never think so poorly of you.”

That night, Dali didn’t bid him sweet dreams like he usually did.

Gerhard spent the rest of the week pretending that it didn’t bother him at all.

*****

The notes in front of him were warping, doubling, intertwining. Gerhard shook his head and rearranged the music sheets. His cravat uncomfortably clung to his skin, sticky with perspiration, and the blond swore under his breath as his hair fell in his eyes for what felt like the hundredth time that day.

He gritted his teeth, roughly pulling it back. A few more minutes to endure, and he could finally lay in bed. Thank Heavens they had a break after their music class.

“Settle down, settle down!” Their teacher hit the stand with his baton, trying to catch the attention of the few vamps that were still chattering amongst themselves. “Boys, focus! What has possessed you today?” He sighed, aggravated. “Just – follow the piano. At least he won’t make any mistakes. Start at section C.”

A few vampires grumbled, calling favorites and murmuring disapprovingly, but most focused back nonetheless. Gerhard didn’t look up at Dali as a hush fell over the room, another wave of giddiness overtaking him. Stubbornly, his bow raised to the violin.

They had almost made it through the third page when the cellos messed up again, warranting yet another drawn-out lecture on elegance and responsibility from their exasperated teacher.

Gerhard could hardly contain himself when they were finally excused. Jumping to his feet, he hastily gathered his papers before swaying towards the door.

He had barely made it halfway down the corridor when a voice called to him.

“Gerhard.”

Dali hadn’t addressed him in weeks; not since what Gerhard referred to as the Corset Episode. He hadn’t minded the sudden distance – he reveled in it, he told himself – but it rendered their current interaction unexpected.

“Are you sick?”

That caught him off guard. He blinked stupidly as Dali stared, peering at him from under his lashes. The question was so absurd, so out of nowhere, that for a second Gerhard thought he had misheard.

“Pardon?”

Dali looked away for a moment, obviously hesitating, before his gaze went back to him. “Your face is bright red, and you’re wobbling. Are you unwell? I can accompany you to the nurse’s office, if needed.”

Gerhard turned around. “I am perfectly fine.” And that would have been convincing too, hadn’t he tripped on his own two feet the second the words left his mouth. He braced himself against the wall, exhaling shakily.

“Hey –” in two strides, Dali was next to him. “Do not take this the wrong way, but you look terrible.”

How astute – that was because he felt terrible. Still, he wasn’t about to show any sign of weakness in front of a Delico.

“You do too, yet I have the finesse to not mention it,” he wheezed. It was a lie, of course: Dali had the fair features and healthy complexion of someone born to nobility, everything about him smooth and radiant. Gerhard would rather die than admit to any of that aloud, however.

Dali’s lips pursed in a thin line, eyes narrowing as he tried grabbing his elbow.

“Do not be stubborn. You should sit –”

Gerhard batted at his hands as if he were an annoying fly, abruptly changing course towards the stairs to the cloister. Forget lying down; he needed air. He needed space. He needed…

“Ger – hey!”

His vision blurred, then went black.

*****

The first thing Gerhard noticed was the blissful cold on his forehead.

The second, the steady heartbeat against his cheek.

As he slowly emerged from the darkness, more and more information relayed to his brain.

His mouth was completely dry, throat constricting painfully. His body felt as heavy as lead.

He was being cradled against a firm chest.

On instinct, he buried his face further in the embrace. Something gentle brushed his hair back from his clammy forehead, the fresh air cooling off his skin, and he sighed at the welcome sensation.

“Shh, it’s alright, I got you. I got you.”

The voice’s timbre was familiar. Gerhard had heard it before; light and silk smooth, like a lover’s caress. When the pleasant rumble ceased in time with the words, he couldn’t hold back a whine.

“Everything is fine. The nurse is on her way.”

Nurse? The word stirred something in him, body shifting.

What was going on? Where was he?

“Don’t move. You need to rest. Can you open your eyes?”

He didn’t think so. Everything felt so heavy, so tiring. He was exhausted. He just wanted to stay still and float in this feeling, this liminal space between unconsciousness and reality.

The person holding him smelt nice. A subtle hint of pine, with undertones of that lavender tea Dali loved to drink in the evening.

Dali.

Gerhard’s eyelashes slowly fluttered open.

Under any other circumstances, if he had felt even a fraction better, he would have jumped upright and pushed at the other in a panic. Yet, he couldn’t do anything but stay still as Dali kept pressing his cool palm to his forehead, occasionally brushing his hair away.

He had never noticed it before, but his eyes were green. Not black or navy blue, but green, a dark shade unlike anything Gerhard had ever seen. It reminded him of the lush forests surrounding his estate after a night of rain.

Dali said something again, but Gerhard didn’t catch it, too preoccupied with trying to remember all the things his irises reminded him of –

When they turned away.

The rumble of his chest returned. Gerhard closed his eyes once more, sinking into the feeling. Distantly, he heard other voices; Dali was talking to someone, but he couldn’t make sense of their conversation. He could only register snippets of what Dali said due to his proximity; something about the medication being too strong for him, the necessity to lower his dose.

A warm, small hand got hold of his wrist as his body was lowered to the ground, and his mind drifted away.

The second time he came to his senses, he was lying in an unfamiliar cot.

The nurse jolted as he sat up, hands vigorously rubbing the fog from his eyes.

“Lie back down this instant!” she chastised, pushing at his shoulder. Gerhard ignored her, stomach sinking in dread. His cravat was missing, shirt open a few buttons. Blindly, he touched his neck, expecting to feel two puncture wounds under his fingertips, tender skin, anything indicating a potential bite – nothing.

“Your body is still weak, young man,” the nurse continued, undeterred. He let himself be manhandled into lying back down. “Rest. I will bring you some water.”

“What time is it?” he asked after a few sips, finally regaining his voice. The nurse took away his glass, setting it aside before picking up the damp cloth in his lap and rearranging it on his forehead.

“A little past four.”

Gerhard choked on his own spit. A little past –?! He had wasted the whole day at this point! Just his luck.

The nurse chuckled at his bitter expression. “Do not fret, your friend dropped by a few minutes ago with your notes. He said you can ask him if there’s anything you don’t understand.”

She motioned to the bedside table at his inquisitive stare. Sure enough, a neat stack of papers sat right next to his music sheets, curlicue letters detailing their lessons in politics, history, and etiquette. He groaned. There was only one person he knew that had such flowery writing.

“Now, don’t strain yourself. You have time to go over your lessons before tomorrow. How do you feel?”

Gerhard almost wanted to laugh. Mentally? Awful. But physically?

“… Fine, I suppose.” And it was true: his face and chest had stopped burning, and he could finally see clearly. The nurse hummed.

“Is this your first time fainting?” He nodded. “When did your symptoms start?”

Gerhard carefully recounted the events from that morning, answering each of the nurses’ questions. She wrote everything down in a little book, nodding along.

“Hmm. That seems to confirm what your friend has said, at least,” she murmured at length. Gerhard glowered.

“What did he say?”

“That you often start sweating and turn red shortly after taking the medicine. He also said that you get dizzy regularly. Is this true?”

Gerhard gritted his teeth. He didn’t want to admit it, but it was. Damn Dali for being so perceptive.

The woman heaved. “Why didn’t you say anything earlier? I will ask the doctor to give you only one pill from now on, but you need to inform us if you feel unwell. If the medication doesn’t work properly it could spell trouble not only for you, but for the other students as well,” she said sternly. “Be more careful in the future.”

“…Yes, Madam.”

She let him go after a few more checkups, handing him a slip of paper to justify his absences. Making his way to his room, he sighed.

He probably had around an hour to himself before Dali came back from class. He would use it to freshen up, wash his face and brush his hair, before he had any semblance of conversation with him. He had already made enough of a fool of himself as is; he didn’t need the other to think even worse of him for not being presentable.

As seven in the evening rolled around and Dali still hadn’t come, Gerhard decided to go have dinner. The dining hall was full, bustling with life as vampires talked loudly and laughed, eating in small groups.

“Ah, you’re awake!”

Gerhard looked up from his spot near the window as Dali approached him, breaking away from his own group.

“How are you feeling?”

The blond’s eyes fell back to his plate. “Better.”

“That’s a relief. Did the nurse give you today’s class notes?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Tell me if you need help with anything.”

Gerhard hummed, and that was that. It should have been the end of their conversation, if they followed the logic from the past month. Dali would go back to his group, Gerhard to his meal, and they would go about their ways until he could thank him later, in the privacy of their bedroom.

Instead of that though, Dali lingered with his tray in hand. Gerhard’s heartrate sped up as he bit his cheek.

“…You can sit, if you want to.”

The raven shot him a surprised look, visibly not having expected that. Frankly Gerhard hadn’t either, his mouth moving faster than his brain. But he supposed it was fine, just this once: he owed Dali, after all.

“Dali-boy! What are you doing?”

The redhead Gerhard recognized as Dali’s lapdog waved from a few tables down. He didn’t know the people he was with, but they all seemed a few years older than them.

Gerhard didn’t miss the hesitation flickering over the other’s face.

“Never mind. You should go.”

He went back to cutting his meat, ignoring the heavy feeling that definitely didn’t settle in his stomach. Yet, it was Dali’s turn to surprise him as he slid his tray in front of Gerhard.

“Wait here a second, will you?”

He couldn’t hear what Dali told the group, but as they all turned to stare at him in unison, he prayed it wasn’t about today’s incident.

Making his way back to their table, Dali slid in the seat across from Gerhard with a small smile. A real smile, unguarded and genuine, the likes of which Gerhard hadn’t been on the receiving end of for weeks. He felt his cheeks immediately heat up, and he hoped they weren’t as red as they felt.

They ate quietly, occasionally interrupted by Dali recounting their classes. It seemed like Gerhard hadn’t missed much, thankfully. Finishing his meal, Dali stood up.

“Well, this was pleasant,” he mused. Gerhard followed his hand as it pushed his dessert – a slice of cranberry pie – onto Gerhard’s tray. “But I have some matters to attend to. I’ll see you in the room?”

Gerhard hummed, looking at Dali’s back until it vanished from the hall.

What a waste. Why take dessert if he didn’t plan on eating it? Dali Delico really was the biggest fool Gerhard had ever met. Gently, he brought a spoonful to his mouth.

The pie was tart and sweet, just the way he liked it.

*****

As October slowly gave way to November, then December, the air grew colder, clouds heavy with the promise of sleeting rain. The winter proved to be exceptionally harsh that year, snow coating everything in a thick layer for weeks on end. The vampires in the Clan were too young to fully understand its implications, however; for them, December was nothing more than a month of celebration.

Too bad Gerhard was part of the small group that was in no mood to celebrate.

Over time, taking less medication did help his body regulate better. Gone were the random bouts of dizziness and the hot flashes; Gerhard could finally operate normally without feeling like he’d pass out after going up a flight of stairs. However, that also meant his Cocoon symptoms returned. It wasn’t as bad as it had been before the Clan, of course, but they were still strong enough for Gerhard to notice. He was meaner and testier than usual, a feat given his already short temper, and his patience had shrunk enough to be comparable to a child’s. Now, even the slightest of inconveniences set him off. He could barely converse with anybody without wanting to either deck them in the face after a few sentences or burst out crying.

It was terrible, this moodiness that plagued his every waking moment. But the Cocoon phase was just that: a phase. Every vamp went through it at some point in their teenage years; Gerhard was already lucky to be a late bloomer, experiencing his first symptoms at almost sixteen. If everything went according to normal, he would be back home shortly after his eighteenth birthday. Only two years of hardship. He just had to tough it up until then. It was fine, he could do this.

Everything was fine.

“… that’s when – woozah! A huge roast chicken appeared at the end of the corridor! It was taller than several men, with the biggest thighs and breasts known to vampkind –”

“No, really?”

“Yes! Absolutely gigantic! Not even the Police of the Blood could have stopped it. I should have been scared – anyone else would have been scared. But not me! I took out my sword and shouted: headless beast! Stop right there! These are the last corridors you will ever see –”

“I thought it was a headless beast.”

“Hey!”

“Ah, pardon me. Please keep going.”

“Ahem, as I was saying – these are the last corridors you will ever see! I, Henrique Lorca, son of Diego and Carmen Lorca, grandson of Pedro and Fernanda Lorca, cousin of José, Santiago and Martina de Mayo, nephew of Carlos and Izabella Sanchez –”

Gerhard did his best to take a steadying breath, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Inhale, exhale. Inhale –

Everything was not fine.

If the other vampire didn’t stop talking that instant, he was pretty sure he was going to explode.

“I think that is quite enough, Sir Henrique.”

On his left, Dino seemed to agree. The cut of his frown was so severe, Gerhard almost pitied the other vamp for being on the receiving end of it.

Almost.

“But I haven’t finished my story!”

“You have, as of now.”

Henrique pouted. “Man, the rumors weren’t lying. You really are uptight.”

“There, there,” Dali patted the redhead on the shoulder, eyes twinkling. He looked way too amused by this whole situation, the bastard. “You can tell me all about it later. I, for one, am very invested in the way you eliminated that terrible threat.”

“Dali-boy, my hero! I knew I could count on you!” Henrique cried, hands joined like a lovestruck maiden.

“Ridiculous children, both of you,” Dino huffed down at his plate. Gerhard silently agreed.

Though, what was actually ridiculous was them sharing a meal. He wasn’t sure how Dali had managed to convince the other two vamps to have weekly get-togethers, but he chalked it to his natural charm and family name.

“What, are you telling me you never had any hallucinations before coming to the Clan? I find it hard to believe.”

“Cocoon phase symptoms manifest differently in every person, I’ll have you know,” Dino sighed, “but to answer your question, no. I’ve never had visual hallucinations. And even if I did, I am certain they wouldn’t have been as absurd as yours.”

“How did you know your phase started, then?”

Dino shrugged. “When I began hearing voices. At first, I thought they were just hypnagogic hallucinations –”

“Hypna-what?”

“– but as I started to experience them during the day as well, I quickly realized my predicament. Shortly after my thirteenth birthday, I transferred here.”

Henrique whistled at that. “Woah, you mean you’ve been here for almost five years? That’s crazy. No wonder you’re so stony-faced. Must be a coping mechanism.”

He turned to Gerhard before Dino could react to the affront. “What about you? Did you ever experience hallucinations?”

Gerhard didn’t. His only symptoms had been his humiliating emotional instability and increased perspiring. But it wasn’t like it was any of their business, and he told Henrique exactly that.

“Aw, come oooon! Why so secretive?” he whined. “Unless… your symptoms are actually embarrassing?” He seemed to seriously consider it for a moment. “Do you like, dream of the hot mathematics teacher –”

He never got to finish that sentence, Dali suddenly laughing and wrapping an arm around his shoulders. “My, I’m sure Gerhard has his reasons, Henrique. It’s best to not make hasty assumptions. Now, are you eating that pudding, or shall I take it?”

That seemed to distract the other enough as he lunged for his dessert, forgetting all about his previous line of questioning. Under the table, Gerhard felt Dali press his calf to his. He wasn’t looking at him, bantering with Henrique instead, but the comfort in the gesture was clear.

Gerhard hated how the tension slowly melted off from his shoulders.

That was right; he couldn’t afford to lose face here.

Despite his deplorable manners, Henrique was still the heir to House Lorca. While it wasn’t as entrenched in the history of the Council as other families, its importance within the textile industry made for a dangerous weapon, translating into wealth and connections. Being civil with the other vamp was a strategic necessity; they would most likely end up as work colleagues in the near future.

Gerhard really needed to stop his feelings from getting in the way. He had a reputation to uphold.

Next to him, Dino shifted in his seat. Fleetingly, Gerhard wondered if these lunches were akin to a babysitting session for him.

Amongst the three of them, Dino was probably the person he appreciated most. They had only spoken a handful of times; he was curt and to the point, but not unkind. Gerhard supposed there was a fraction of truth in what Henrique had previously stated: being in the Clan for so long had most likely made Dino sterner over the years. Yet here he was, every Friday, having lunch with the rest of them while Henrique and Dali carried eighty percent of the conversation.

Gerhard almost smiled. The things they did in the name of duty.

“All I’m saying is, we should talk more about our Cocoon symptoms among us,” Henrique declared, waving his spoon in the air. “I just don’t get why everyone is acting like it’s such a big deal. I mean, it is uncomfortable, sure, but at the end of the day no harm is done.”

If the redhead noticed the way Dali’s face darkened, he didn’t comment on it.

“Anyways. Are you guys excited for the fencing tournament? That’s going to be – what, your fourth participation, Sir Dino?”

“Fifth.”

Henrique laughed. “Man, here’s to hope we’re not in the same group. I really need to kick some butt. I’ve heard Lord Vlad is coming to watch this year.”

Gerhard sharply turned to him at that. “Where did you get that information?”

“I overheard some teachers talk about it after history class the other day.”

Gerhard tuned out Dino’s lecture on the rudeness of eavesdropping to think. The yearly fencing tournament the Clan held was a tradition as old as time, organized the second weekend of December. While it was a highly anticipated event by the student body, they rarely had any visitors, most of them preferring to attend the Clan Fest held during the summer months.

If a man of Johannes Vlad’s caliber was to be in attendance, that meant something – or rather, someone – had caught his eye.

Gerhard felt his pulse quicken.

I expect to hear great things from you very soon, my son.

This was his chance. If he performed well, it would not only benefit the House’s reputation, but also his. And maybe, just maybe…

The image of his father’s smile crossed his mind.

… Maybe for a day, he would be enough.

“What are you thinking about?” Dali asked him later, on their way to class. “You’ve been quiet since lunch.”

They stood shoulder to shoulder, Dali’s hand occasionally brushing against his. He had gained a terrible habit of walking too close to the blond since his fainting episode.

Gerhard was proud, but he wasn’t a fool. He knew that if not for Dali catching him that day, his brains would have splattered all over the stone floor. So, he stood quiet and allowed the faint touches, even if they sometimes made his skin tingle and stomach churn oddly. He owed Dali that much, he figured.

Simply a debt repaid.

“Is this about the fencing tournament?” Gerhard didn’t reply, but Dali continued. “I don’t believe what Henrique said to be true. Lord Vlad has no reason to come all the way here.”

“We cannot know that for sure.”

“Tensions between humans and vampires are on the rise. The Council is already buried in work as is – not even taking into account the number of new cases the Inquisitors must deal with on a daily basis. I think Lord Vlad has better things to do than waste his time on this.”

Gerhard heaved. “That might be true, but it’s not every year that several prominent Houses have their sons in the Clan at the same time. If anything, this is the best year to attend, before Sir Dino leaves.”

Dali hummed, hands coming to link up behind his back. “I guess you have a point,” he murmured eventually.

Gerhard knew he did. After all, they were going to be the new blood of the Council; in a few years’ time, it would be their turn to fill in the space left by their fathers. It was only natural to want assurance that the next generation was up to par.

Gerhard would show him. He would show everyone present what the Fras were capable of, that Lord Vlad needn’t worry for the future as long as he was around.

Even if it meant – especially if it meant going against Dali. He wouldn’t hold back, no matter this fragile balance they had seemed to reach over the past few weeks.

He simply couldn’t.

*****

The halls were reverberating with shouts and laughter. It was as if the dormitories had transformed into a beehive, vamps running and pushing at each other down the stairs in their haste to get out, steps echoing off the walls.

If not for Dali dragging him out of their room, Gerhard would have stayed in bed for at least another two hours.

Grumpily, he rubbed the sleep away from his eyes. What was the haste? He couldn’t understand. Whether they found out what group they were in now or right before the tournament began made no difference.

“Aren’t you curious to know who you will be facing today?” Dali had questioned as he stole Gerhard’s blanket, ignoring his aggravated protests. Then, softer: “I hope we are not in the same group.”

Before Gerhard could take a proper look at him, his uncharacteristically meek tone morphed back to its trademark smugness. “After all, it would be such a shame if I eliminated you from the very first round.”

Needless to say that a few moments later Gerhard was stomping out of the building, a grinning Dali in tow.

“What do you think this year’s weapon will be?” He prattled on, undeterred by Gerhard’s moodiness. “Last year was the saber, so this year must be either the épée or the foil… do you have a preference? I, for one –”

His voice abruptly cut off. From the corner of his eye, Gerhard saw his face going slack with shock.

He didn’t have the time to fully register the sudden expression, however, before Dali melted into a brilliantly luminous smile. It was as if the sun’s rays had decided to pierce the overcast sky and get lost in his irises.

Astounded, Gerhard watched as he broke into a run across the courtyard, towards one of the old trees near the library, stopping right before –

Another Dali.

Or rather, an older, sturdier version of him, deep in conversation with another man.

Gerhard halted.

This could only be one person.

The current head of the Delico House. Head Inquisitor of the Council. Dali’s father.

Claude Delico.

The older vampire immediately mirrored his son’s expression when he noticed him, laughing as he pulled him close. He ruffled his hair, and Dali laughed too. Not the proper, carefully measured chuckles of a noble, nor the guffaws he sometimes let out around Gerhard.

Something purer; the raw joy of a child.

The blond couldn’t hear what they were saying from where he stood. But the way Claude affectionately squeezed his shoulder – the evident pride in his stance from Dali’s sole presence – the warmth in the way they looked at each other –

Gerhard averted his eyes, chest hurting.

He couldn’t stand it.

Instead, he focused on the other spectator of the scene, an imposing vamp with wide shoulders. He was tall, a ducktail beard framing his square face, and everything about him screamed importance, from the way he carried himself to the dark burgundy coat he wore.

He had never seen him in person, but Gerhard could easily guess his identity.

“Gerhard!”

He jolted as Dali suddenly called his name. Within seconds, the two men turned to Gerhard as Dali waved him over.

Damn it.

Even if he had wanted to leave, he couldn’t ignore him now.

He approached the group head held high, hoping the confident posture camouflaged his palpitating heart.

“Gerhard Fra,” Claude greeted him. Up close, the resemblance to his son was uncanny: it was like looking through a time portal and seeing Dali with wrinkles. “My, how you’ve grown since I last saw you.” He patted his shoulder. “You must have been – what, seven? Time sure flies!”

“Lord Delico. Lord Vlad,” he nodded politely, mind already whirring with possible conversation starters that could make a lasting impression. But then – his thoughts froze.

Claude had put a hand atop his head, brushing at his hair before letting his palm rest against Gerhard’s nape.

The gesture was so gentle, so fatherly, so foreign, it took Gerhard’s breath away.

“Dali was right. You really grew to be as beautiful as your father.”

How could one even begin to address such a statement? Gerhard knew he must have looked foolish, tongue-tied and big-eyed like a deer on the end of a hunter’s arrow, but he couldn’t help it.

“What a shame he is not with us today. But you know how it is. Someone had to stay back and hold the fort, you understand,” he joked, hand retreating.

And just like that, the moment was broken. Something dark and bitter like poison clawed its way around Gerhard’s throat, and he swallowed, looking down.

“Of course.”

“That being said, I wholly intend on filling him in on everything that he is missing. How is life in the Clan treating you? I’ve heard that you are a very smart boy. Back in our time, Albert also excelled in politics and history.”

Gerhard blinked.

“Your class is taught by Teacher Leonard, isn’t it? I remember him. He has always been a tough grader.” He turned to Lord Vlad, gesturing to Gerhard.

“Getting anything above eighty with him is nothing short of a miracle. Yet, Gerhard here has an average of ninety-four! Can you believe it?”

Lord Vlad simply raised an eyebrow. “Quite the achievement.”

“Absolutely! And this without even considering his other subjects. A stellar pupil, just like my Dali. He is also on track to becoming first chair in the Clan’s orchestra. His level is so good –”

“I – pardon me,” Gerhard interrupted, stammering, “but –” He faltered, unsure on how to phrase his bewilderment.

“Hmm? No need to be shy, now. Dali told me everything. You can stand proud!”

Gerhard shot Dali a look, voice soft with disbelief. “You talk about me in your letters?”

Claude laughed. “If only you knew how much!”

If he didn’t know any better, Gerhard could have sworn Dali’s cheeks had reddened.

“Ah, how happy I am you boys became such fast friends! You were meant to be, just like your fathers!”

“Lord Delico.”

The three of them turned to the oldest vampire, a look of contained impatience painting his features. He heaved. “I do not mean to interrupt your reunion, but Principal Louis is expecting us.”

“Of course. I haven’t forgotten.” Claude gave them one last smile, before following Lord Vlad’s retreating back. “Good luck today, boys!”

For a long while they stood immobile, watching the two men cross the yard and enter the main building.

It was only later, much later, that Gerhard realized he had been unable to interact with Lord Vlad – at all.

Damn Delicos, always distracting him.

*****

As it turned out, Dali and he were not in the same group.

While the raven was in the first, Gerhard had been put in the fourth. That not only meant he would start competing late in the afternoon, but also that –

“Looks like I’ll see you in the finals, Goldilocks,” Dali shot over his shoulder, already turning towards the changing rooms.

– the two of them would only get to face each other if they managed to defeat all their opponents first.

Gerhard’s chest thrummed in excitement. He did not recognize any of the vamps in his group, aside from Dino; a formidable foe, for sure, but not unbeatable. His long limbs were definitely an advantage, but Gerhard had seen him train before. He was slow and too much on the defensive, trying to wear down his opponent before striking.

Provided Gerhard was fast and precise from the start, he could easily best him.

The morning passed by quickly. Instead of training like he was supposed to, he watched as Dali eliminated opponent after opponent.

He was good. Infuriatingly good. Gerhard had not been expecting anything less, but the confirmation was still aggravating.

He had good endurance, good footwork, and most of all, a good mind for strategy. It didn’t escape him how Dali adapted to each opponent: exploiting their weaknesses, edging them to go exactly where he wanted them to. One after the other, vamps bowed down before him like reeds in the wind. Effortlessly discarded.

By the time his last opponent bit the dust, Gerhard had seen all that he needed to see.

Retreating to his seat under the gymnasium benches, he picked up his weapon – it was épée, this year – and ran his fingers along the dull blade, pondering.

*****

“How do you feel?”

Gerhard didn’t pay the other any heed, readjusting his gloves.

“He leaves his right shoulder and flank open when cornered. You should focus on that.”

“I know,” Gerhard clicked his tongue. He didn’t need Dali to spell it out for him.

Why was he even there? They hadn’t spoken since that morning, each busy with their own training and bouts, until Dali had unexpectedly materialized from nowhere and into Gerhard’s space.

His hair was slightly sticking out with perspiration from where the mask had pressed against his temples. His eyes crinkled as he smiled.

“Just making sure.”

He watched Gerhard silently as he finished with his gloves, moving on to make sure the fabric over his shoulder wasn’t taut.

“What a shame that you must face him off so early. Aren’t you the least bit scared?”

Across from them, only a few meters away, Dino rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck, grey strands casting shadows across his face.

“Why would I be?”

“Sir Dino is an experienced fighter. He most likely studied your fighting style before this; he knows what to expect from you. This will not be an easy fight.”

Gerhard shot Dali an odd look. Of course it would not be easy, but that wasn’t really the point of these bouts, was it?

“I know. He is good.” He breathed.

“But I’m better.”

With that, he slid his mask over his face, walking to the piste. Dino joined him shortly after, and the referee shuffled between them as they shook hands.

He lifted his arm, whistling twice. “En garde!”

Gerhard inhaled deeply and exhaled through his mouth.

Claude and Lord Vlad were sitting in the second row, all the way to the left.

The change in the atmosphere was nearly immediate. Despite several bouts taking place at the same time, Gerhard could hear the lull in conversations as he raised his blade.

Good. Let everyone’s attention be on him.

In the end, the fight went exactly as expected. Dino was skilled, but predictable: he had the reflexes of a seasoned fighter, but even those could not help him against Gerhard’s ruthless attacks. By the time the second period ended, the blond had already scored all the points he needed.

Gerhard was loath to admit that he won by a narrower margin than what he would have liked, however. If not for the rounded tips of the practice weapons they used, some of Dino’s hits could have been lethal.

The student body parted around him like the sea as he exited the floor, combing his sweaty hair with a hand.

Admirative hums, surprised murmurs, envious looks: nothing Gerhard hadn’t seen before. Nothing he wasn’t used to.

Growing up, Gerhard had never minded being hated. It was part and parcel of being born into wealth and with inherent aptitudes; he was well aware that no matter what he did, some people would despise him solely for being dealt better cards.

That didn’t bother him. He knew his worth – worrying about bruising other people’s feelings was one of the rare luxuries that he couldn’t afford. So, he took pride in his status and capabilities.

“Gerhard!”

He jolted as an arm slid around his shoulders, a solid hand squeezing his bicep.

Dali’s grin was blinding, voice laced with a laugh.

“You did amazing! Congratulations on your victory!”

With a huff, Gerhard shrugged the offending arm off, immediately squashing the fluttery feeling that tried to take a hold of his insides.

He didn’t mind being hated. Even if that isolated him from most of his peers, he had never minded, because such was the burden of those born under his name.

Yet, as Dali’s eyes shined in delight like two polished jades, a treacherous part of him allowed the warmth that settled in his chest.

*****

With Dino beat, Gerhard’s final duels were akin to a breeze. He made quick work of the rest of his opponents, ending his group’s bouts in record time. Before long, he was shaking the hand of the other semifinalist, his shoulders sunken in humiliation after a bitter defeat.

The gymnasium benches had grown increasingly loud with more and more contestants being eliminated. Now, vamps were crowding against the metal railing, shouting encouragements and placing bets on who would win the final round.

This was it.

Gerhard could barely contain his excitement as the principal’s voice thundered through the room.

“Gentlemen, please welcome our fencers and the referees for the final bout of this year’s tournament! On the left side, the winner from the fourth group: Gerhard Fra!”

Gerhard walked onto the piste head held high, the audience clapping loudly.

“And on the right side, the winner from the first group: Dali Delico!”

The crowd immediately roared to life, whistles and applause ricocheting against the brick walls. The raven hopped on stage with great panache, boyish charm on full display as he waved to the benches with a large grin.

In his periphery, Gerhard saw Claude stand up.

“As for the referees, please welcome Teacher Armand and Teacher Rocher!”

Dali joined Gerhard in the center, shaking his hand as custom demanded.

“No hard feelings,” Dali beamed at him, poise steeped in arrogance.

Gerhard scoffed, almost amused.

The gall this boy had.

Instead of letting his hand go, he pulled Dali closer. “Do you think I’ll go easy on you because your father is present?”

Head slanted, he felt his own lips pull into a derisive smile.

“Think again.”

The principal raised his arms. “Fencers, please get ready for the bout!”

Gerhard’s pleasure at leaving Dali stunned was short-lived. Turning, they both put on their masks, a hush falling over the room  as they shuffled into position.

“En garde!”

Dali’s wiry muscles flexed under the thin fabric of his top as he brought his épée forward.

“Prêts? Allez!”

The first strike pierced through the air.

The spectators immediately shrieked as metal clashed once, twice, thrice.

“Touché!”

Gerhard let out a pleased breath, straightening to get back to his spot.

Getting the first touch never failed to thrill him.

14 more points to go.

“Prêts? Allez!”

The words had barely left the referee’s mouth before Dali cleaved the air like a knife. Gerhard narrowly parried, trying to strike back, but missed. In the blink of an eye, Dali lightly tapped his shoulder.

“Touché!”

Gerhard grit his teeth as Dali laughed, the sound muffled under the mask.

So that’s how he wanted to do this, huh?

He needn’t worry. Gerhard would deliver.

The average fencing bout lasted 9 minutes; three periods of three minutes each.

Yet, their fight seemed suspended in time as they danced around each other in a flurry of metal and grunts, the high ceiling catching and returning the ring of their steel.

Attack, parry; parry, attack.

By the time the third period started, they were both fighting for breath.

The score: 13 to 13.

Gerhard held his weapon tighter, its handle digging into the soft flesh of his palm.

He needed to score faster. Better. Not leave any opening – any time for Dali to scheme.

“Prêts? Allez!”

They gravitated towards each other like two magnets, movements careful, calculated. Someone somewhere let a scream as their épées crossed once, twice, featherlike, testing the waters.

The silent tension didn’t last. In one fell swoop, Gerhard lunged for Dali’s right shoulder. Dali deflected the blade right before it grazed him, retaliating with force.

It was the kind of fight the onlookers liked best: lots of relentless follow-through, without too much deliberation before each new series of moves. Through his shield of concentration Gerhard could hear their voices, though not the words they spoke. Judging by the short vowels, however, it was not his name they were screaming.

His body moved more on instinct than thought. Dali aimed for his flank; light on his feet, Gerhard jumped aside. The blade in his hand seemed to gain a mind of its own as it curved, snagging against the material of Dali’s upper arm.

“Touché!”

Gerhard couldn’t help his glee, hand shaking into a fist as Dali’s shoulders imperceptibly sagged.

One point! One more point, and he would win against the Delico.

The cries in the audience doubled in volume as they went back to their ends of the piste. In the distance, someone shouted a ‘Go, Dali-boooy!’.

One point.

This time, Dali dropped all pretense at decorum as he immediately went for the kill. Gerhard had expected it. A parry to the left, a parry to the right; Dali was so fast, it was getting hard to keep up with his movements.

A feint to the wrist, followed by a drop to the thigh. A hop coupled with a sudden thrust to the chest. A split extending to the stomach.

Despite their masks, Gerhard heard Dali hiss as he narrowly dodged another attack. Gerhard didn’t realize he was grinning like a madman until he bit his tongue mid-riposte.

And then – a falter.

A split-second of inattention – of hesitance.

Gerhard immediately moved in close, forcing Dali to retreat lest he get touched. At the last moment, he lurched towards his face.

Caught off balance, the raven stumbled, his center of gravity shifting.

Gently, almost shily, the tip of Gerhard’s épée kissed his jugular.

Dali hit the floor hard. The impact made the blade slip from his grip, mask flying before roughly landing a few feet away.

Gerhard was on him in a heartbeat. Arm still extended, he tore his own mask away.

They stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity – flushed, out of breath, spent.

And what a sight it was: Dali Delico, on his back and elbows, at Gerhard’s mercy.

On the end of a Fra’s blade.

“…Touché!”

Abrupt like a landslide, their surroundings burst to life.

The rush of emotions seizing Gerhard was sharp, immediate.

Despite being taught better, a choked laugh ripped through him.

The young vamps on the benches hollered, heated up by the adrenaline of a close fight, their fists coming to punch at the railing almost violently. Gerhard could barely hear them over the rush of his own blood.

His eyes raked over the public.

Claude was gone. In his stead, Lord Vlad stood, arms behind his back.

His gaze was trained on Dali – expression unreadable.

Then, with a visible sigh, he shook his head and turned to leave, not sparing Gerhard a glance.

*****

The bedside table shook under the lamp’s warm light. Its innards rattled, the few belongings stored within the flimsy drawers skittering over the worn wood.

Gerhard hissed. Taking a seat, he dragged his hands over his face, willing his fingers to stop trembling.

Across from him, Dali’s bed loomed untouched.

His gloves were nowhere to be found. Gerhard could have sworn they were in his pocket a mere moment ago; yet, after ransacking their room for the better part of the last hour, he had to admit it was a lost cause.

He had probably dropped them on the way back to the dorms.

Soft flakes formed out of the darkness, falling around him like stars. Catching on his hair, his shoulders, his cheeks, melting as soon as they made contact with his skin.

At first, Gerhard had been cold; chilled to the bone all throughout the principal’s speech, the award ceremony, his peers’ fake congratulations.

Where is Sir Dali? Oh, he left with his father and Lord Vlad. Left? Where? Who knows. Probably in town. I heard Lord Delico speak of a restaurant or something. Vampires in their Cocoon phase cannot leave the Clan premises. It is against the rules. Hahaha! Always so hung up on the rules, Dino.

Don’t you get it? Rules don’t apply to people like Dali.

The churn in Gerhard’s stomach had changed, then – bleeding into a quiet simmer.

His feet sunk in the fresh snow as he slowly retraced his steps from earlier that day. Despite his excellent vision, there was very little that he could see now that night had fallen over the courtyard.

His ears were the first to pick up on a foreign presence getting closer.

He looked up to see Lord Vlad and Dali walk side by side, towards the now deserted gymnasium. By the looks of it, they hadn’t yet noticed him.

Trying to keep the new wave of ill-feeling rising in his throat at bay, he pressed against the cold wall of the building, out of sight. He did not feel like seeing either of them at that moment – with a bit of luck, they would quickly make their way past, and Gerhard could continue his search.

Instead, he heard them come to a halt at the gymnasium doors, their voices becoming distinct.

“Well, here we are. Thank you for your company tonight.”

“No need to thank me. It was the least I could do. A shame that your father had to leave us in such haste.”

A small chuckle. “That is alright; the duties of an Inquisitor never stop, after all. I cannot blame him – in fact, I am most grateful for the outstanding example that he sets for me. I can only hope that I will be up to the task when my time comes.”

Lord Vlad grunted, and Dali’s steps rang clear against the stairs.

“Dali.”

“Yes?”

“… You fought well today. You lack experience, but your movements are worthy of a great swordsman. There is no doubt that you will become great, someday.”

“My, thank –”

“If I can offer a word of advice, however – never hold back against your enemies. There will come a time when the stakes are higher than a mere medal to display in your cabinet.”

A beat. Dali’s soles shuffled on the stone. “Pardon?”

“You can always fool the untrained eye, but refrain from playing around in front of swordsmen better than you.” Lord Vlad’s tone was calm, devoid of any reproach – matter-of-factly. “There is nothing more unsightly than a good fencer not trying on purpose.”

In the ensuing quietness, Gerhard stilled.

“… I fail to see what you mean.”

“I find that hard to believe. You had at least a dozen occasions to score a point during the final, yet didn’t – do not look at me so, we both know the truth.”

“So tell me: why is that?”

Dali did not reply for a long while. When his voice finally broke the stillness, it had abandoned all its previous playfulness.

“I fought with honesty today.”

“I never said you didn’t. I am merely asking why you held back.”

“Please – you sound just like my father. Always thinking that I am so much better instead of accepting the truth. This tournament was a mere formality – I do not understand why you are both so upset about it.”

He spoke with such nonchalance, as if he wasn’t conversing with one of the most influential men in the city.

“Be that as it may, every duel ought to be fought to your utmost. It is not only a matter of image, but of honor between men. Your loss here might be inconsequential, but that might not be the case in the future.”

Dali tutted at that. “Ah, ah, if I might correct you – I did not lose. A Delico never loses.”

“Really?” Lord Vlad humored him.

“Absolutely. I either win, or learn.”

“And what did you learn today?”

Dali hummed, his tone teasing. “That Sir Gerhard looks awfully good with his curls all mussed up.”

The older vampire let out a long-suffering sigh. “Your insolence will be your downfall one day.”

They bantered back and forth for a little while, but their actual words were a blur. It was as if Gerhard’s ears had been filled with cotton – sounds unable to come through.

He didn’t know how long he stayed plastered to the wall. Around him, the snow kept falling gently, innocently. Blissfully unaware.

The lights in the office were on. From the doorway, Gerhard studied Dali as he moved from one spot to another, gathering his things. He looked in high spirits, a smile ghosting his face and a bounce to his step as he slid a key inside a drawer.

Only after closing his bag did he notice the other vamp.

“Gerhard!” he laughed, breaking into a real smile. “I didn’t hear you come. What are you doing here?” He suddenly seemed to recall something, reaching into his pocket.

“Looking for these?” He waved some white cloth in the air – Gerhard’s gloves.

Gerhard had forgotten about those.

“I found them at the entrance. You’re lucky they both fell at the same time, or else we would have spent ages looking through the snow,” he joked.

At Gerhard’s prolonged silence, he blinked, smile waning a fraction. “Are you alright?”

An earnest question, ringing with sincerity – as if Dali genuinely cared about the answer.

The simmer brewing in Gerhard’s insides grew stronger.

“… Gerhard?”

He felt like a pressure cooker on the stove. Whistling. Shaking. Dangerously close.

“Hey. What’s wrong?”

The lid shattered, his hatred boiling over.

“’What’s wrong?’ Hah!” Gerhard barked out a laugh, the sound distinctly unfriendly.

He slapped a hand to his eyes even as tremors ran up his arms.

“Tell me something, Dali. Is it that entertaining?”

His voice was surprisingly steady – a feat, considering the unadulterated loathing tearing its way through his body.

“What is?”

“Toying with others. Humiliating them.”

From the other side of the room, Dali looked at him like he had grown a second head.

“I –”

“Tell me. Is this a Delico thing? It must be – pushing us around for sport. Seeing us as no more than stepping stones.”

His resentment was starting to bleed over his tone, agitation mounting – yet he couldn’t seem to move, body rooted to the ground.

From his spot near the window, Dali stared with round eyes.

“Gerhard.” He murmured at length. “Have you taken your meds?”

He hadn’t. That didn’t seem like the point of this conversation, however.

Dali took a step closer, speaking softly. “Hey, it’s alright. I haven’t either.”

Of course he hadn’t – he had been too busy enjoying his night out.

With his father. And Lord Vlad.

Who from the beginning, only had eyes for him.

You had at least a dozen occasions to score a point, yet didn’t.

I am merely asking why you held back.

Don’t you get it? Rules don’t apply to people like Dali.

Like an open wound, Gerhard’s bitterness festered further.

“Let’s go to the nurse together,” Dali pressed, oblivious. “And we can talk afterwards.”

“No – we are talking right now. Answer me, Dali.”

“You are not making any sense. You are upset. Once we are both calm, we can talk.”

The way he spoke was akin to a parent trying to reason a toddler, words slow and dismissive.

Something in Gerhard snapped.

“Don’t you patronize me!”

The walls seemed to recoil at the sound, silence heavy in the wake of his outburst.

He took a deep breath, but it did nothing to soothe his raw throat. He sounded like he had just run for miles, gasping at the air as if it didn’t want to stay in his body. His skin stung, fingers purpled by the cold finally coming to life under the rush of his hot blood.

“Gerhard,” Dali intoned doucely. “This isn’t you.”

His hands were splayed before him in a pacifying gesture – somehow, that only served to stoke Gerhard’s anger.

“You know nothing about me!”

“Alright, I don’t,” he agreed easily. “But I’d like to. Once we’re back in our room. Let’s drop by the infirmary on the way back –”

Gerhard cut through his rambling with a sneer. “You really don’t get it, do you?”

Ever so slowly, he moved towards the far wall of the room, directly across from the door.

“Always acting like we’re below you. Like we’re your bloody varlets, only there to make you look better.” He stopped to gaze at the wooden board hanging above the desk. Several swords were proudly on display, hanging one above the other with their scabbards.

“Is your contempt for us bred into you, or do they teach it?”

They were quite exquisite now that he looked up close, their hilts decorated with gems and inlaid with gold. He picked up the first one – a rapier with delicate brass bars curling upwards – and let it glide against his palm, feeling its weight. The tip was dull, as expected of a decorative weapon. His fingers tightened around it.

“Gerhard. What are you doing?”

“Just who do you think you are?”

Gerhard abruptly brought his knee up, the blade bending with the force of his thrust. It resisted for only a second before it snapped. With a sigh, Gerhard dropped the broken tip to prick his finger on the new, jagged point.

A pearl of blood sprung from his flesh.

“Please, put that down. You’ll hurt yourself.”

Dali pleading would have been satisfying to hear on any other day; yet, Gerhard found that he couldn’t quite enjoy it in that moment.

Turning, he threw the blade on the floor, where it rolled with a metallic clang until it hit Dali’s foot.

His green eyes did not leave Gerhard for a second.

The second time, he snapped the blade with his bare hands. The metal yielded with a sharp crack, its uneven edge slicing through Gerhard’s palm. The spike of pain cut through the haze in his mind in an instant.

“You know, not so long ago… people used to say that if an enemy besmirched the honor of your house, only blood would wash it clean.”

With a shaky breath, he slid his hand on the bell-shaped hilt, the gold turning dark pink.

“I happen to agree.”

When Gerhard looked over, he noticed that Dali had not moved a millimeter. He pointed to the weapon at his feet with the bloodied tip of his rapier.

“Pick it up.”

Outside, snowflakes swirled down slowly.

“Gerhard. Let’s not do this.”

“Pick. It. Up.”

The tension between them was stifling – almost a breathing, living thing. Neither moved as they bore their eyes into each other’s.

A flicker of Dali’s gaze, almost imperceptible: down to the sword, then back to Gerhard.

Every muscle in Gerhard’s body contracted at once.

He lunged as Dali dove to pick up the rapier. The metal sank in the doorway by Dali’s head, missing him by a hair. With a livid scream, Gerhard shook the blade free from the wood, leaving a deep dent behind.

He ran through the corridor. The doors to the gymnasium protested with a loud creak as they slammed against the wall, wood near splintering as he scanned the darkness.

Dali was sprinting towards the cloister. Gerhard immediately followed suit.

“Dali!”

The snow under their boots made it difficult to move at full speed, the soles slipping against the powdery ground. Still, he gave chase as Dali ducked behind the statue in the middle of the yard.

“Come here at once!” he barked, circling around the high stone. Dali did the same.

“Calm down first!”

After a few turns, Gerhard dug his feet in the ground, breath ragged – only for Dali to stop moving too.

His head poked from behind the sculpture.

“Please –”

Gerhard immediately thrust his blade forward, only for Dali’s head to appear on the other side.

“– listen to me!”

Scritch – another trust, only scraping stone. Gerhard’s ire grew tenfold.

“Stop running away! Face me properly!”

“Why?!”

This would not do. Gerhard would not let him fool around like he always did. Taking a few steps back, he jumped onto the plinth and swung blindly.

Dali made a garbled noise in his throat as the blade grazed his cheek. Without missing a beat, Gerhard twisted his wrist, metal finally colliding with a sharp screech.

There were no more careful, calculated moves this time around. Their blades crossed and clashed, frenzied, loud like shotguns in the silence of the courtyard. Yet –

“Fight me!” Gerhard roared, movements growing increasingly frantic.

“I am!” Dali shot back, parrying yet another hit – aimed at his neck, this time. He grunted at the close call, features twisting. “Stop this madness!”

No! Why was he not fighting back? Why was he only parrying Gerhard’s hits?! Was Gerhard not even worth his attacks?!

No, no. He would not allow it. He would never let a Delico ridicule him ever again.

With a shout, he leapt forward, intent on puncturing his eye, when –

Instead of retreating, Dali moved towards him. He met Gerhard’s blade full-on, sparks flying at the friction, and deflected it to the right. Then, in a surprising display of agility, he crouched, grabbing the dull side of his own blade and bringing it parallel to his torso.

In one swift movement, Dali trapped Gerhard’s arm to his chest and pushed – hard.

Gerhard hit the statue behind him with force akin to a horse kick. The impact knocked the wind out of his lungs, and he fell to the ground in a coughing mess, slipping on the slush at his feet. His lungs burned from the exertion and the cold, vision fading for a moment.

Shit. In his periphery, he could see Dali exit the cloister, jumping on the nearest tree and onto the roofs of the buildings around them.

Grabbing blindly for his sword, Gerhard pushed himself up and rubbed the snow stuck to his lashes.

It was not hard to track Dali’s whereabouts. Gerhard followed his footprints until he reached a relatively flat roof, skylights and chimneys making it look like a clearing in the forest – minus the welcoming atmosphere. He cursed as the steps in front of him blurred into a mess of snow. Of course the sly bastard would think of covering his tracks by running around like a headless fly – Gerhard had given him the luxury of time by struggling to stand up, after all.

“Dali! Come out of hiding at once!”

The shadows from the chimneys stretched around him ominously, fangs of a beast ready to pounce. Gerhard brandished his sword before him, heartbeat pounding in his ears.

“Is this the only thing you Delicos are capable of?! Ridiculing us, then disappearing?!”

He let out a winded laugh, gradually advancing as he checked behind every corner. “You lot of cowards.”

No answer. The stillness blanketed him heavily, unperturbed, the winter night seemingly endless. There were no stars on display tonight, the only source of light being the cold glow from the moon. Gerhard huffed, thick clouds billowing out of his mouth like vapor from a dragon’s maw. He was seconds away from losing his mind. If Dali didn’t show up right now –

Gerhard sensed the movement behind him a fraction too late.

He had just enough time to see Dali spring from behind a chimney when the hilt of his sword knocked the blade out of his hand. Dali immediately tackled him, and they fell to the ground, momentum making them roll down the roof in a mess of grunts and limbs. Just before they reached the edge, Dali snuck on his back and dug his knee in the white powder, chest pressed flush against him.

Gerhard trashed around as Dali snaked his arm around his throat, holding him tight into a chokehold. He hissed when the pressure increased, loud and raw like a feral cat – he probably looked like one too, eyes bloodshot and nails digging viciously into the offending limb. He felt his fangs lengthen immediately – a natural response to the threat, supposedly trained out of him at an early age. He knew he was not supposed to do it: baring one’s fangs at another was a blatant display of uncivilization, unbecoming of a vamp of his status, with a name and education behind him. Only barbarians and peasants were still lowly enough to hiss at each other, never truly freed from their most primal of instincts.

Still, Gerhard’s fangs itched, all rationality lost as his mind clouded with the overwhelming need to get away, to intimidate.

Bite. Claim. Destroy. Bite –

“I’ve got you!” Dali said breathlessly, his breath ghosting the shell of Gerhard’s ear. That immediately spurred him further, body trying to break free from the hold almost violently, but Dali simply crushed him harder, pinning his left wrist to the ground as his other knee found a home in his back.

“Now, care to tell me what is going on?”

The nerve he had, still feigning innocence after everything that he had done. Gerhard’s blood boiled so hard in his veins, it felt as though it would melt right through his skin. “Get off me, or I’ll tear your head off!”

“I’m afraid I cannot do that, Goldilocks,” Dali panted. “You’re completely out of control. Didn’t you have dinner already? Why didn’t you take the medication right after?”

Gerhard hissed even louder, barely able to form a coherent thought. Dali’s hold on him did not relent one bit. “Why – why do you do this? Why won’t you fight me?!”

He was growing lightheaded, probably a combined effect from his exhaustion and the lack of air. “Always acting like you’re better… better than everyone – else,” he spat, vision swimming. “Am I that unworthy to you?”

“You’ll have to stop speaking in riddles if you want me to listen,” Dali spat back, annoyance finally seeming to catch up with him as he struggled to keep Gerhard immobile.

“Don’t you dare give me lip! You’re the one always using me to show off –!”

“When have I ever done that?!”

“– and pushing me around – what for?!” His teeth ground together so hard his jaw popped. “I will not have it! Unhand me! Fight me properly! I’ll – I’ll show you what the wrath of a Fra means!”

“Have we not fought enough today?! Heavens, Gerhard, you already won! What else do you want?!”

“For you to take me seriously!” With the way Gerhard choked on the words, it was almost as if he’d been wailing. “Do you know how insulting it is?! Winning – because your opponent let you?”

Above him, Dali stilled, but Gerhard kept on. “I will not accept it. Even if – even if a duel to the death is what it takes – I will fight you, and best you – and then no one will be able to look down on me any longer.”

“No one. I – I will not make the same mistakes as my father.” He coughed, heat pooling in his gut.  “I’ll show you – that I’m more than some mussed up curls.”

“Wh – what –”

Dali’s hold dropped at once, and Gerhard’s body twisted around on instinct, his elbow connecting with Dali’s ribs. Bone met bone – and with it Dali yelped, promptly rolling off from him. Gerhard took a breath as if emerging from deep waters, digging his fingers in the snow to steady himself.

He didn’t wait. One moment he was on his hands and knees, regaining his bearings – the other on Dali, biting on the cold steel of his sword.

Dali was baring his fangs too now – so out of place against his usually cool, carefully construed exterior. The sight provoked Gerhard further, and his teeth dug in the metal with renewed fervor, the tang of iron and blood coating his tongue. The raven’s arms shook as he tried to keep Gerhard at bay, veins popping blue against his fair skin.

Unfortunately for him, even when fully extended, they were shorter than the blond’s.

Gerhard clawed at his face. His nails caught on the cut he had made earlier, drawing even more blood. With a shout, Dali kicked him in the stomach, hands dropping the sword to cover his face. The blade rolled down the length of the roof and into the abyss beyond the gutter.

Holding his midriff, Gerhard looked up at the remaining rapier, coming in and out of focus a few steps from them.

At the same time, Dali crawled up.

Gerhard cursed, but he was too late: by the time he reached Dali the other had already spun around, weapon firmly in hand.

In hindsight, the unfortunate sequence of events that unfurled from that point on – and that would later go down in history – could have been entirely avoided.

Dali swung the sword around in large circles. Carelessly, leaving himself wide open in his fury, Gerhard jumped on him, focused on Dali’s throat. Instead of sinking in flesh, his teeth clacked on air – the rough pull on his hair nearly making him scream.

He kicked around like a fish out of water, but Dali’s hand was firmly fisted in his tresses. Gerhard pulled in one direction, Dali in the other –

“Back – off!” Dali hissed, sword whistling in the air –

And his hold abruptly ceased.

Gerhard was sent reeling back, temple hitting a skylight. He stayed there for a few moments, face flat on the frozen window, trying yet failing to stand. It seemed that Dali had suffered a similar fate, however, as he grunted in pain a few feet from him.

That was his chance. He needed to put an end to this. Right then and there.

Drawing on the last dregs of his strength, he pushed himself halfway up, gaze finding Dali’s – just as the other went as stiff as a board.

“Ah, shit.”

For some reason, the two simple words made Gerhard completely halt.

Dali was not one to swear. Nothing ever seemed to faze him or ruffle his feathers enough for it, after all – Gerhard had learned that the hard way after months spent in close proximity.

Yet, as he looked at Gerhard with eyes almost comically wide, previous anger momentarily forgotten, Gerhard’s stomach sank in dread.

He didn’t feel any different. His temple still throbbed a little, but –

Dali’s eyes dropped to his hands. In one he still held the rapier, and in the other…

Gerhard’s mind went blank.

“… It was an accident.”

In the other –

“I – I didn’t mean to. Heavens, I –”

Gerhard didn’t hear the rest of Dali’s stuttered apology, eyes on his reflection in the skylight. The face staring back was undoubtedly his – despite the blood smeared on his cheeks and his dilated pupils, he looked normal.

As normal as someone missing a chunk of their hair could look.

Now, Gerhard didn’t consider himself particularly vain. He knew he was just on the right side of nice-looking, and that was enough for him. But it would have been a lie to say that he did not care for his appearance at all. If he had to pick only one of his assets, it would have been his hair – thick and bright like new-minted gold, cascading over his shoulders in large waves. There was a reason why the Fra family crest was a lion, after all.

Gone.

“Listen – it doesn’t look that bad,” Dali said somewhere behind him, his reflection materializing above Gerhard’s shoulder. The crease in his brows told Gerhard the exact opposite.

Calmly, Gerhard sat back.

“I’m actually going to murder you.”

Dali let himself be pummeled to the ground without protest. Even as Gerhard took him by the collar and slammed him repeatedly against the tiles, he barely put up a fight.

Gone, nearly all gone – forget the lion. At that very moment, Gerhard looked more like a plucked turkey.

Dali wheezed as his back hit the tiles once again, the clay cracking under him. There were hundreds of things that Gerhard wanted to say – how much he loathed him, how he never wanted to see him again. Yet not a sound escaped his lips as his vision blurred. He blinked the sensation away, a few drops melting the snow by Dali’s cheek.

If possible, the sight seemed to horrify Dali more than anything else that night.

“Hey –” he tried hoarsely, “no, no –”

Gerhard didn’t let him finish, slamming him once more against the battered roof. He could feel himself weakening; the fire in him finally receding to a few glowing embers. It was all so unbelievingly stupid.

He let Dali go, hiding his face behind his palms. He hated it; the feeling of his throat clamping in on itself, the wetness on his skin. He just wanted to crawl into a hole and disappear.

Under him, Dali shifted. It was evident from the cadence of his words that he was trying to soothe him, thumbs pressing softly against his forearms. Gerhard didn’t register a word.

It took a sudden lurch down and a crack for him to look up.

Dali blinked owlishly at him. For a moment, no one moved.

Then it happened again – an ominous groan of wood.

They both peered down. Despite the mess of broken tiles, the cracks in the decking underneath were clear as day. Another lurch, heavier this time, made Gerhard’s stomach jump.

Dali’s grip on his wrists tightened. “We need to –”

The ground promptly opened and swallowed them whole.

The sudden shift in gravity made them scream. The drop wasn’t long, but it was enough for all of Gerhard’s organs to leap into his chest – before slamming right back in place as his body hit the floor. Gerhard coughed, splinters and snow landing on him.

Once the rubble settled somewhat, he propped himself up. Dali was within arm’s length, groaning and rubbing the back of his head, but he looked unharmed for the most part. A small part of Gerhard sighed in relief.

Where were they? Judging by the delicate doilies on the dresser and the paintings on the wall, it looked like they had landed in a room.

Pushing at a stray piece of wood, Gerhard made to stand – just as his eyes locked with the principal’s.

*****

“… cannot believe it… this is simply unconceivable!” Another sigh, accompanied by more muttering. “To think that even our brightest students would resort to such abhorrent behavior…” The heavy steps stopped before them with a grunt. “Have you no shame?”

A rhetorical question – the slow pacing immediately returned, before any of them could do as much as raise their head. “Fighting in the dead of night like drunkards… breaking the curfew! And with stolen weapons to boot! I cannot believe this… do you know how expensive these rapiers were?!”

Gerhard closed his eyes as spittle landed on the parquet next to his knees.

Principal Louis was a stocky man, with round eyes and round cheeks and an even rounder stomach. Rapidly approaching his sixties, he had the cheerful smile and sunny disposition of a man freshly turned grandfather, which had quickly earned him the moniker ‘Good ol’ Louis’ from his students. While most respected him by virtue of age, a large part also poked fun at his lack of authority and strength, deeming him too soft to properly rule a Clan full of hormonal vampires.

Gerhard could finally have an informed opinion on the matter. Though the cheerful demeanor was at times misplaced, both him and Dali could now attest to the fact that the man did not lack authority, nor strength – he had enough of both to wrestle them into swallowing their pills despite their state, at the very least.

Without water.

“Do you think you are immune to the rules and regulations of this Clan because of your names? You fools!” He stopped again, pointing at them accusingly. “Your names mean nothing between these walls! The Clan is the only time in your life when you are all equal. Hadn’t I made that clear enough during my welcome speech in August?”

His nightshirt swayed in time with the draught sweeping through the room. With the way his tongue insistently prodded at his fangs, he looked like he wanted to bite their heads off – for good reason, admittedly.

“You will not go unpunished. This kind of behavior – I simply cannot let it slide.”

With a deep sigh, he took off his nightcap to scratch at his balding scalp, eyes trained on the large hole decorating the ceiling of the adjacent room.

Of all the places Dali and he could have landed in, of course it had to be the principal’s bedroom.

“… I’ve been running this Clan for more than thirty years, and yet I’ve never seen anything like this,” he murmured.

Turning to eye them critically, he let out another heave as he placed the nightcap back on his head.

“Stay here. I’m going to see if the nurse is awake.” Walking to the door, he grabbed the handle with sturdy fingers, voice laced with a warning. “If I find any of you has moved a hair by the time I’m back, consider yourselves expelled. Have I made myself clear?”

Gerhard listened as his steps thumped down the hall, creaked onto the old stairs, and finally faded to nothingness.

At first, he thought he’d be relieved. Gerhard couldn’t remember the last time he’d been scolded so harshly – and even then, it was never by anyone under him. Technically, he knew that was an inappropriate thought to have: as long as he was behind these walls, he was indeed under the authority of the Clan head. Yet, his damned pride – the same one that had landed them here in the first place – protested loudly, uncapable of accepting to bow to a man who, under any other circumstances, should have obeyed him.

How silly. Gerhard raised a shaky hand to rub at his face, his whole being protesting with the movement. He bit down a pained groan.

Heavens, everything hurt. Now that his anger and adrenaline were gone, his body clearly reminded him that he had been an idiot. His head and back thumped in pain in the places where he had hit the statue, and his stomach ached where Dali had kicked him – the tender skin would most likely bruise. The entirety of his left hand was numb. His mouth still carried the taste of blood, both from his busted lip and the self-inflicted cuts on its corners. Gingerly, he ran his tongue over the wounds, only for them to sting so sharply it made his eyes water.

At least when Principal Louis was berating them, he couldn’t think of anything else but his ire.

Which brought another problem to the table: he would most definitely not be the only one to be furious by the end of this ordeal.

What had Gerhard been thinking?! Clearly nothing, which would be exactly what his father would say when he caught wind of this. He could already imagine the disappointment marring his features – had seen it directed at him enough times to know full well what it looked like.

Gerhard’s face fell in his hands. And here he was, a few weeks prior, thinking that he’d make him proud with his victory. What a joke of a son he was.

Spiraling deeper and deeper by the second, he didn’t hear the subtle shuffle on his left.

“Hey.”

Dali’s voice came out all raspy, and he coughed twice before continuing, softer this time.

“I apologize.”

Gerhard didn’t reply, head still in his hands. What was Dali even apologizing for?

“About the comment with the curls. That was a gaffe on my part. I shouldn’t have said it – that was inappropriate of me. I’m sorry.”

Despite everything, Gerhard almost laughed. Of course that was what Dali would choose to apologize for, of all the things that had happened that night.

“… How much have you heard of my exchange with Lord Vlad?”

After a moment, Gerhard raised his head. “Most of it. I… I hadn’t meant to eavesdrop. I was looking for my gloves,” he admitted pathetically, fingers curling in his lap. He could barely feel them anymore, with all their fighting in the snow and the frigid air seeping under the door.

Next to him, Dali shuffled again. In his periphery, he saw him dig through his pocket, before producing the pair Gerhard had lost and putting out his hand.

When Gerhard made no move to take them, he simply laid the cloth next to his thigh, reverent like a devotee making a temple offering.

“It isn’t true, you know,” he eventually spoke again. “Earlier… you said that I let you win. It’s false.” He wasn’t looking at Gerhard, eyes trained to the floor beneath them. “No matter what Lord Vlad said… I gave it my all.”

Gerhard scoffed, hugging himself tight. “Right.”

“It’s true! I –” Dali abruptly turned, wincing as he pressed a hand to his ribcage – where Gerhard had elbowed him. “Maybe I wasn’t as fierce as I could have been, or as I was in my other bouts… but that –” he averted his gaze, looking at everything but Gerhard, “– that wasn’t about you.” He sounded almost pained as his voice dropped to a near whisper. “That was about me and my own shortcomings.”

Hmm. Dali Delico, admitting to his weaknesses? What a rare sight.

“So please – take pride in your victory. You honestly deserved it.”

Dali looked at him so earnestly, uttered the words with such conviction, that for a moment Gerhard wondered if he’d forgotten who had beat him up twice that day.

The blond looked away, shoulders sagging.

“What good would it even make right now? Everything that I’ve done today was for naught. This incident will most certainly reach our fathers – the tournament will mean nothing to them then,” he said bitterly. “And Lord Vlad only had eyes for you since the beginning, anyway. I was a fool to think he’d actually give anyone else his attention.”

From the corner of his eye, he could see Dali cock his head. “What do you mean?”

Gerhard clicked his tongue. “What is so hard to understand? I thought Lord Vlad would be interested in everyone’s potential, but he clearly only made the trip to see you.”

Dali blinked. “But he didn’t. He wasn’t here for the tournament.”

“Of course, he just decided to take a stroll through the woods and magically chanced upon the Clan, today of all days,” Gerhard sarcastically stated.

“I’m serious,” Dali said, the genuineness in his tone making Gerhard seek his gaze. “They were supposed to come earlier this week, but my father couldn’t free himself before today. He had forgotten this was the weekend of the tournament.”

No. This did not make any sense. “What were they doing here then?”

Dali shrugged. “Apparently there’s been trouble in some other Clans. Students missing, altercations with humans.” He raised a wrist to rub at his nose. “They were here to speak with the principal, which they did before the tournament started. They only stayed because he insisted.”

He frowned, gaze softening. “We spoke about this, remember? When I told you Lord Vlad had no reason to come only for this. If he really wanted to check any of us, he’d make arrangements to be present for the Clan Fest.”

Gerhard reeled back as realization slowly sank in. “But –”

“He was so annoyed with the setback he nearly didn’t touch his food during dinner,” Dali continued, oblivious to Gerhard’s inner turmoil. “Every time my father tried to change the subject he went right back to business. I’m not sure why they even dragged me along, to be honest,” he added, lost in thought.

Heavens. Somehow, the revelation made everything ten times worse.

“Why would you even bother with Lord Vlad, anyway?” Dali asked curiously. “He’s just some pompous noble.”

“Hah! Typical of you to say something like that,” Gerhard spat. “Should I remind you he’s the head of the Vlad Institution and an eminent member of the Council?”

“So?”

Gerhard sputtered to the point of choking. “So – what do you mean ‘so’?! He has power, he has money –”

“We have those too,” Dali replied nonchalantly, shrugging.

 “Not to that extent –”

“We do, in fact, have them to that extent –”

“That might be true for the Delicos, but it doesn’t mean that is the case for everybody!” Gerhard grit out, tearing at his hair. He immediately stopped when remembering the large chunk that was already missing. “When will you stop taking everything for granted?! Just because you have it all doesn’t mean we all do.”

Ah, there it went again – the little flicker of annoyance lapping at his guts like a candle flame.

Count on Dali for still managing to upset him even when he was so wrung out he barely remembered his own name.

“Lord Vlad is acquainted with everyone in the Council. Even if half of the Lords were to want your head, one word from him and you’d go unscathed. He has authority and is well-respected. No matter your family name, being in his good graces is important,” Gerhard heaved.

“That might be true, but the same applies to the Delico and Fra Houses,” Dali countered stubbornly. “He cannot afford to have us against him either –”

Gerhard shook his head, the candle suddenly snuffed out.

“House Fra doesn’t have the influence House Delico has, and you know it. Why do you keep acting like we’re equals?”

That finally seemed to silence Dali, but Gerhard didn’t even take notice, words spilling from his mouth like water from a broken dam.

“Wherever we go, whatever happens – we’re always compared. And in almost every scenario, you come out on top. It’s pointless – no matter what I do, I always end up as the second choice.”

“You keep saying that our fathers are best friends – that we should follow in their footsteps – but I don’t want to spend my life in your shadow; like my father did.” He painfully shut his eyes. “It’s always been the same. ‘Study, Gerhard. Work harder. Do this, don’t do that – ‘”

It was as if his brain had lost all control over his tongue, the sound of his voice foreign to his own ears.  “‘We’ll show them who we really are! You will surpass me, my son! No one will be able to look down on us then!’ And then he’d go back to his papers and meetings and troubles like I’ve never even been there to begin with.” In his lap, his fingers twitched. He pressed them roughly between his thighs.

“He talks more about you than he does about me in his letters. Isn’t that an amusing thought? Though perhaps I should give him more credit,” he breathed. “When you spend your life being considered somebody else’s dog, I suppose it’s natural to not be satisfied with subpar results.”

It was quiet for a long moment.

There were so many things Gerhard wanted to say, so much pent-up chagrin – yet his voice ultimately failed him.

It was only as he felt his fingers slowly regain life that he realized just how long the silence had stretched for. Next to him, Dali stood silent as a grave – and with it, Gerhard gained his bearings enough to realize he’d inadvertently let loose the cap to his own personal jar of issues.

Well. Humiliating until the end. It was high time Principal Louis came back – with or without the nurse, at this point.

Maybe now he would listen to Gerhard and let him change rooms. Surely he understood that was in everyone’s best interest. It didn’t even matter who he ended up with. Maybe –

“You know,” Dali’s voice cut his thoughts short, “when we first met, I thought you were just some snitty, spoiled brat. To be completely honest, I didn’t like you one bit.”

Gerhard went very still.

“But my father kept insisting that I befriend you, so I tried. He said that it would be worth it; that if you were anything like Lord Fra, you would be one of the most valuable people I’d ever meet. He’s always thought very highly of him, regardless of what anyone in the Council says.”

“So I made an effort. I would try to find out what you like, so we could talk about it. I set up regular lunches with the other Houses, hoping that might get us closer. At night, I’d go to sleep thinking of ways to approach you the next day. No matter how many times you would push me away, I kept at it, thinking that you would eventually come around if I insisted enough.”

“Because you thought following me everywhere and calling me names would be a good idea?” Gerhard couldn’t help but blurt.

“Yes, well, I didn't know what else to do. I’m not exactly used to people not wanting to be friends,” Dali admitted, lips quirking into an almost pout. “I tried my best, alright?”

A soft exhale. “It took me a while to realize my obstinacy had long stopped being about my father’s wishes, and was more a reflection of my own desires.”

In the vastness of the principal’s office, dark and silent as a confessional, Dali's voice ringed with unabashed sincerity. “You are capricious, and haughty, and often get on my nerves; but you’re also one of the smartest and most hard-working people I’ve ever met.”

“When you enter a room, you command attention with your sole presence. You’re honest. You make everything seem so easy, even when I know how hard you worked for it. I admire that.”

He turned to Gerhard, jaw set. “I admire you. It’s fine if we end up not getting along – but I won’t have you think I’d want to befriend you because I see you as lesser. Nothing could be further from the truth.”

For a moment, Dali’s candor left him stunned. Even in the dimness, his dark eyes shone like crystals – and in them, Gerhard could see a determination that rendered him speechless.

“Let’s start over.” Dali jammed his open hand between them.

“Hello, my name is Dali. I'm fifteen, and my favorite color is blue.”

Gerhard blinked at him.

In retrospect, he didn’t remember what went through his mind at that moment. Years later, on nights where he couldn't find sleep after Dali's confession and their inevitable falling-out, he’d think back to that snowy night and wonder what possessed him to accept Dali’s friendship.

Would he have taken his hand had he known how that split-second decision would alter the course of his life?

But perhaps it was simple.

Perhaps it was the smile Dali had plastered across his face that encouraged him – such an outrageous juxtaposition against the backdrop of his bloody cheek and purple eye.

Perhaps it was his own exhaustion that pushed him to lower his defenses for once, tired of always having them up.

Perhaps, for just a second, he had fallen under Dali's charm, like everyone always did.

Whatever the case, he found Dali's fingers to carry an odd sense of reassurance as they clasped around his. They were cold – Dali always ran colder than him – but the sensation was not unpleasant.

“Gerhard. And I am fifteen, not five,” he sniffed pointedly. Then, because he wasn't sure what else to add: “I like to read.”

“And sweets?”

Gerhard narrowed his eyes at Dali, hand retreating – but the raven simply held on tighter.

“Hmph. Perhaps,” he half-conceded, making the other laugh.

Loud and unbridled – completely inappropriate for a noble of his status.

Over the years, Gerhard would find that he didn’t mind it that much.