Outsider's Game: Night King

by Bluecho

04 - Least Dark Before Dawn

Ch. 4 - Least Dark Before Dawn

---

April 1952

“Sorry! Sorry!”

Dougal Dempsey ran past the secretary's desk, sweating profusely. “Good...morning, Marsha,” he said, nodding to the woman.

“Uh, Mr. Dempsey,” she said, a worried look on her face, “Mr. Johnson wants to see you in his-”

“I know, I know,” he said, opening the door. Ducking inside, he ran through the main work room, trying to dodge around his fellow employees in his haste. “Excuse me...pardon...me...”

As he neared the boss's office, Dougal failed to notice all the eyes that followed him, or the complete cession of all noise.

Dougal popped through the door, brushing back his hair with his hand. “I'm...huff...sorry I'm late...Mr. Johnson. My car got smashed by a hit and runner when I got up this morn...ing...?”

A dour Mr. Johnson sat behind his desk, papers in his hands. His brow was furrowed deeply. He wasn't alone in the room. To either side of the desk were sharply-dressed gentlemen in gray suits and fedoras.

“...what's going on, sir?” Dougal said, frowning.

The boss sighed. “Come in here Dougal,” he said, scowling. “Gentlemen, this is the man.”

“Uh...boss, who are...?”

“Mr. Dempsey, we're with the Federal Bureau of Investigation,” said one of the men in suits. “We'd like you to come with us for questioning.”

“For what?” Dougal said, growing defensive.

“Embezzlement.” Mr. Johnson dropped the stack of papers in front of him. He tore off his reading glasses. “A thousand dollars, gone.”

“You're to come with us, Mr. Dempsey.”

“But I didn't steal anything!” The FBI spooks seized Dougal by the arms. “Let go of me! Mr. Johnson, I haven't done anything wrong.” He struggled in their grip, but they were too much. “I didn't-”

“Dougal!” Johnson rose to his feet. He pointed towards the young man. “You're fired!”

They dragged him out the door, Dougal twisting and protesting loudly. “I'm innocent, dammit! Let me go! I never did anything wrong! I'm innocent! Innocent!”

---

Present

“Attention passengers: the train is now leaving the station.”

Princess Luna narrowed her eyes. “I'm watching you, vampire.”

Dougal Dempsey raised his leg, resting upon his other knee. His hands rested upon the horizontal appendage, strong iron links clinking. He tested the manacles. They were bound as tightly as cold iron could be.

How cute, he thought. “I would be offended if you weren't, your highness.” He smiled.

As the train shuffled into motion, a whistle blared in the distance. The vampire felt the vibrations through the seat. He looked around. The train's seating reflected the American style – rows of seats all in one long compartment – rather than the English style, with its separated rooms. Not, of course, that these styles were specifically emulated. Dougal didn't think so. He didn't think it possible, like many things he experienced this night.

They were sitting across from each other, he and the Princess. Two burly guards flanked him, and he noticed more taking their places behind him. Dougal looked out the window, watching the darkened landscape fly by. He spotted a mass of village lights in the distance, before the shadow of a hill blocked the view.

“We have flying soldiers following overhead,” Luna added, seeing him eye the windows. “You won't get far if you run.”

“I had no plan to.” Dougal tapped his fingers on his leg, studying the brown mud stains upon his pant legs.

Luna stared wearily at the gesticulating digits. Finally, she looked to his face. “Who are you?”

“My name is Dougal Dempsey,” Dougal said, lacing his fingers. “I am a Kindred...it is...among our many words for vampire.”

“Well, Mister Dougal Dempsey, I am Princess Luna. And one thousand years ago, I was known as the Bane of Night.” Luna held herself up. “Can you guess as to why?”

“A thousand years...a real Methuselah...” Dougal whistled. “I am honored to be in your presence.” He point of fact had a very good idea why she was called...

“I was called the Bane of Night because I slew bloodsucking monsters like you by the wagon load!” Luna said forcefully. Her brow furrowed.

“...duly noted, your highness,” Dougal said, smiling uneasily.

“...yes...anyway...” Luna coughed. “I must admit I have never seen a...Kindred before. Where do you hail from, and why are you here in Equestria? Why do you plague ponykind with your...ghastly thirst?”

Dougal's smile dropped. “For your first question, I come from America. Have you heard of it?”

“No.”

“I thought not.” Dougal glanced out the window, collecting his thoughts. “...as for the second...” He shrugged. “...that...is a very good question. The truth is...I don't know.”

“You don't know?” Luna cocked an eyebrow. “How can you not know how you came here?”

Dougal sighed. “Let me tell you a story. I was minding my own business, when suddenly this pack of Caini...I mean vampires started chasing me.”

“Why?”

“We had a disagreement.”

“What kind of disagreement?”

“Oh, the kind that vampires get into a lot back home.” Dougal steepled his fingers. “I wanted to remain alive – or as alive as an ambulatory corpse powered by an ancient blood curse can be – and they wanted me dead.”

Luna raised an eyebrow.

“Anyway,” Dougal said, “I got cornered, we're about to settle our differences the old fashioned way...and...” Dougal splayed his hands, shrugging. “I don't know.”

“You don't...what?”

“I mean I got nothing. There's a huge gap in my memory I can't account for.” Dougal sighed. He tugged open his jacket to expose the stained purple shirt with a hole through it. “First thing I remember is waking up in a cave with a shaft of wood through my heart.” He watched as the guards around him studied his shirt with morbid interest.

“...you were staked through the heart?” Luna asked. “By whom? And why?”

“Like I said, I don't know. Weirdest thing.” Dougal was smiling. “Normally when a pack of...well, let's just say that me being left unalive was completely out of the question given the context. I don't know know who put me in that cave or why. If you want to know how I got here from my home, I know less than you do.” He clapped his hands over his knees. “I've certainly never seen a talking pony before, let alone an entire nation of them...no offense.” He smiled nervously to the Princess and the guards surrounding him.

“...hmm...I suppose you wouldn't...” Luna mumbled, rubbing her chin.

“Hmm? What's that?” Dougal asked.

“Dougal Dempsey, I believe you are no longer in your world.”

“I...can believe that.” Dougal shut his eyes, thinking.

A new world. One of colorful talking horses. For not the first time that night, Dougal considered whether he was going mad. Again.

“This cave...where is it?”

Dougal started. “Hmm? Oh I don't know the area at all, but it's a few miles from that town – Trottleville, as I recall,” Dougal said. “It was set inside a mountain; I'm sure one of the locals know of it, or could find it.”

“And then?”

“And then? Oh, yes.” Dougal linked his fingers again. “When I...disentangled myself from the trap – one that was rather elaborate I must say – I left and sought civilization at all haste. I simply couldn't stay out there one minute longer.”

“Why?”

“Lupines!”

“Lu...Lupines?”

“Werewolves,” Dougal said. “Humans who turn themselves into wolves. Big ones. I don't know if Equestria has such things, but my...world...is positively full of them. They keep mostly to the countryside, and they hate...HATE...Kindred with a passion.” Dougal shuddered. “Living in the cities often feels like being trapped on islands, with furry, angry sharks circling just beyond the city limits. Even the suburbs aren't entirely safe...”

“How many?”

“Lupines? Impossible to know, and no Cainite worth his salt is willing to-”

“No,” Luna said, rubbing her temples. “I mean how many vampires are there in your world?”

Dougal blinked. He looked at his lap, tapping his fingers. “Well, I don't know exactly. There's no real way to keep track of them all, independent as kindred are.” Scrunching his face, he pondered. “Well, I've heard one statistic...I don't remember where...that said that every vampire must have 100,000 kine – that is, mortal humans – in order to survive. This of course is inflated, since very bare minimum a vampire requires roughly fifteen humans in order to survive. But considerably more to remain unnoticed...”

“Unnoticed?”

“Well yes, we vampires long ago adopted a code of secrecy,” Dougal said. “We call it the Masquerade,” he continued, a little voice in the back of his head pointing out how silly it was to be talking about the Masquerade to someone – anyone – who was diametrically opposed to his existence. “...humph...anyway, we hide ourselves to the point where most mortals don't even know we exist, or refuse to believe it. As if it were some old superstition.

“Regardless, I think that statistic is overblown. A vampire could easily feed well and remain perfectly hidden on as little as 30,000 people.”

Luna frowned. How could he speak so...casually about feeding from innocents? “...so this means there are...maybe...two dozen or more vampires in your world?”

“Yes perhaps, I...what?” Dougal stared at Luna for a moment. “...no, in a small city. A small city has on average twenty to forty five Kindred, depending on individual siring policy...or whether there's been a crusade...”

“Wait, what?” Luna shot up in her seat, eyes bugging out. “I don't...twenty to forty...I...how many 'humans' are there in your world?”

“Hmm? Oh, a few billion.”

“BILLION!?”

Dougal braced against the chair for the force of the princess's astounded outburst. He blinked. “Thereabouts, yes.”

Luna, wide eyed, sank into her seat. She didn't speak for a long time. “...I...I cannot even begin to imagine...a billion humans? I did not mishear?”

“...uh no, you did not, your highness,” Dougal said. He looked around.

The guards were visibly disturbed.

“A billion...what even is a billion?”

The door behind Luna slid open. A very tired stallion of advanced age sauntered over. “My lady, are you alright?” said Kibitz, mustache bobbing up and down. “I heard shouting.”

“Kibitz...Kibitz...” Luna said in a breathy way. She was looking...miles away. “A billion, Kibitz. How could a world hold so many...”

“...um...” Kibitz said. He looked towards the vampire. “See here, I hope you haven't been upsetting her majesty, you...ruffian!”

Dougal looked the stallion over. Studied his tacky Dracula cape. Dougal raised an eyebrow.

“Hrmph...” Kibitz scowled, then patted Princess Luna on the shoulder. “We'll be arriving at Canterlot castle in about an hour, your majesty. Hang in there, I'm...going to see if I can catch a few minutes sleep.”

“...okay...” Luna mumbled, watching the schedule keeper wander into the next car. She sighed.

“Are you alright, your highness?” Dougal said.

“Yes, I...I am just fine.” Luna straightened up. She shook her head, trying to put on a serious face once more. “Dougal Dempsey, before you mentioned a...Masquerade. How is this enforced among your kind? If your numbers are correct, there should be...roughly a hundred thousand vampires in your world.” She gulped, considering the thought.

“...with difficulty,” Dougal said. “So many running around, it would be virtually anarchy. But we have government.”

“Really?” Luna said, both eyebrows rising, lids wide open. “Government? Among vampires?”

“Once upon a time, the only system of loyalty kindred had was to their clans,” Dougal explained, “but with the growing militancy of mortals against vampire kind – as well as the rebellion of the younger generations – many clans decided to band together and form a proper organization. Something to maintain Kindred law and order, formalize the rights of princes, and all that. Kindred call this sect the Camarilla.

“Within the Camarilla, there is a kind of order,” Dougal said, scratching his head. “...the...um...system is...centered around age. The more ancient the vampire, the greater the power. And...ah...all Kindred come together in an environment of respectability. Everyone behaves themselves, and tries to pretend they're not...well...monsters.

“...I see you're skeptical.” Dougal rubbed his hands, watching the princess eye him carefully. “Well, it's not like we aren't monsters...it's just that it's not a pleasant thing to dwell on. Especially not over centuries of existence. For some, it's easier to just pretend.” He rubbed his chin, thinking.

“Hmm...” Luna said. “What of these 'clans'?”

“Ah, the clans,” said Dougal, relaxing. “Well, Kindred can trace their descent from a common progenitor. While there is considerable debate on this point, the most common origin is that of the first generation vampire, Caine, known as being the first murderer...”

“The first murderer?”

“Indeed,” Dougal said. “Caine is said to have smote his brother Abel over...well, let's just say that it is a tale unto itself. As punishment for his crime, Caine was cursed by God to walk the Earth forevermore and subsist upon the blood of the living.

“From Caine, all vampires originate. He sired progeny – that is, he found living descendents of his other brother Seth and turned them into vampires. These in turn embraced mortals of their own, and on and on.”

“Have you done this to one of my little ponies?” Luna asked, scowling.

“Absolutely not!” Dougal said, raising his hands palms forward. “I would never...I wouldn't think of turning one of your subjects. Aside from the practical problems of having more competition...” Dougal scratched his face, “...I don't even think I could embrace a non-human.”

“Why not?” Luna asked.

“I don't know. It's been tried on...anim- Non-humans...and it's never worked.” A bead of blood sweat rolled down his brow. He absentmindedly wiped it up and licked it. “...smack...I don't know what would happen if it were tried on a sapient beast, though...”

“You will not!” Luna said forcefully.

“Wasn't planning on it, your highness. It's a process that cannot (easily) happen by accident. It is a purposeful action, the Embrace. Your subjects already bitten will not turn in the night.” Dougal smiled nervously. He could feel eyes upon him from all around the train car. “But if I may continue...cough...as the progeny of Caine multiplied and spread, they changed. Developed differences, both cultural and physiological. These branching bloodlines took the names of their founding great grandsires, and became the Clans.

“A number of these came together and formed the Camarilla.”

Tilting her head – and watching the “Kindred” ever more closely – Luna said, “Hmm...what clan do you belong to?”

“Ventrue, the...noble house,” said Dougal, smiling, “that is one of the pillars of the Camarilla. Our adherence to law and order is...without question.”

Truthfully, the distinction didn't really matter. Displaced from Earth as he was, Dougal could have said he was of Clan Roosevelt, of House Theodore, and it would mean as much to the ponies. But it wouldn't hurt to establish credentials in case contact was made to his world, or other Cainites found their way there. So it wouldn't hurt to say he was Ventrue.

It was a lie, of course, but that was beside the point.

---

June 1952

“Dempsey.”

Dougal opened his eyes. He sat up from his position on the bed. A single strand of hair fell over his face.

“You're free to go.”

As Dougal was led from his cell, he turned to the guard. “What happened?” he mumbled.

“Apparently they had another go at those papers. Fingered another guy. Talk to your lawyer, he's waiting outside.”

“Hmm...”

Outside, once he'd been returned his personal effects, Dougal saw his lawyer waiting by an old jeep. Army surplus probably. Andy Wick's suit was hardly in better shape, though he flashed a hundred dollar smile when he saw his client. “See? I told you I could get you out, Dougal, and I meant it.”

“Andy...hiss...” Dougal shielded his eyes from the glare of the noonday sun. “What's this about them finding someone else?”

“Well, I kept badgering the DA, telling him you were innocent,” said the lawyer, opening the passenger side door, “I guess they finally looked closer at those records and your holdings. Turned the pressure on your coworkers. Some accountant finally copped to doctoring the records. Put the misappropriated funds in a secure account in Mexico.

“Funniest thing, though,” Andy said, when the two were seated in the car. “All of the money that went missing was in there. The guy hadn't touched it at all.” He nodded his head, adjusting thick-rimmed glasses. “What's more...he can't for the life of him say why he did it. Claimed the urge just...came to him.”

“Yes, because someone just embezzles cash from a major business on a whim,” Dougal said, buckling his seat belt slowly. “It doesn't matter anyway.”

“What do you mean? You're free. Charges dropped and everything. What's the problem?”

“The problem is I don't have a job.” Dougal looked miserably out the window. “Just drive me home, Andy.”

---

Present

“Name?”

“Dougal Dempsey.”

The unicorn behind the desk glanced at Dougal briefly. He ignited his horn in a glow that matched that of the quill before him. He looked to the parchment, the quill dancing across paper. Scritch-scratch. Scritch-scratch. The colorful feather bopped back and forth, shining a warm amber.

A curious application of Movement Of The Mind, Dougal thought, sitting up straight in the wooden chair. Can all ponies employ such magic? He stared at the unicorn, protected behind a steel mesh. Or protected from mundane danger, if nothing else.

“Race/Species?”

“Human Vampire.”

A raised brow. The unicorn looked wearily at Dougal, eying the bits of dried blood on his cheek that his tongue couldn't quite reach. The unicorn looked over Dougal's shoulder.

Luna nodded gravely.

The unicorn swallowed, then regained his dour, unflappable manner. Scritch-scratch. “Place of origin?”

“St. Louis, Missouri. United States of America.” In truth he'd not been in Missouri in ten years, and then only briefly. Dougal didn't really have a home there anymore. That, and there could still be people who knew him there. The plan was always to wait a century, then return when all old acquaintances were firmly in the grave.

“Age?”

“Seventy four.”

The unicorn levitated a small tub from the side of the desk. The contents – from Dougal's pockets – were dumped on the desk. One at a time, a glow enveloped the items and raised them to the unicorn's eye level. The quill remained similarly animated.

“Contents of pockets. Ring, with eight assorted small keys attached.” These were placed back inside the tub. “Assorted coins of...unknown foreign currency. Different sizes, designs, and metals.

“Folded...uh...”

“Wallet.”

“Excuse me?” the unicorn said.

Dougal chimed in. “It's a wallet.”

“Hmm...one wallet, made of...uh...leather...” The unicorn eyed it suspiciously, then opened it. “Contains assorted sheets of green cloth paper. All titled 'Federal Reserve Note', of various values.” Removing the bills, the unicorn noted their printed values, then began counting. “Total two hundred forty-five 'Dollars'.” He studied the stuffy humans adorning the bills, then set them aside. “Multiple hard plastic cards, as well as several paper cards. Also contains scrap paper and smaller paper slips, including assorted receipts.” Finally, he pulled out two folded, faded pictures. “Two photographs. One of...three Human Vampires...”

“Humans.”

“Hmm?”

“They are simply humans. I am an undead Human.”

The unicorn struck a line through a part of the page, then continued writing. “Three Humans, two presumed adults, one presumed child.” The unicorn examined the other photo, more recent. “The second, depicting five Humans, clustered together. Hmm...” He struck another part, then said, “four humans, one human-like creature with prominent horns.”

Dougal smiled sadly. Allowed himself to stare into space.

Returning the contents of the wallet, the unicorn picked up another item. Concentrating slightly, the unicorn unfurled the simple mechanism. “One folding knife.”

“That,” said Princess Luna, “will of course be confiscated.”

Dougal shrugged. It was just a pen knife. He fished it from the cluttered drawer of a house he broke into, twenty years back. He recalled it vaguely smelled of almonds.

He didn't really need it in a scrape anyway.

“One...uh...” The unicorn examined it closely. “This is?”

“A ballpoint pen.”

“Ballpoint pen?”

“Click the top.”

The unicorn held the device away from him, then depressed the top. It clicked, extending a metal writing point. “Hmm!” He carefully set pen to parchment, then gazed in mild wonder as it doodled without having to be dipped in an ink well. “Oh!”

Dougal coughed. Luna joined him.

“Ah! Yes, quite.” The unicorn returned the pen to the tub, then resumed. “One black candle.”

The vampire eyed it intently.

“One...plastic tube, with metal bits on top.”

“It's a lighter. Flick the button a few times, and it will create a small flame, like a match.”

Curiosity overcoming him, the unicorn depressed the button a few times, eliciting clicks. Finally, a small flame erupted from the top.

Dougal flinched ever so slightly. He gulped, if for no other reason than for living habit.

Blowing the flame out, the unicorn waved away the small trail of smoke, then moved on. “Two small booklets.” He leafed through one, checking the front. “One titled 'The Holy Bible'. Printed, small font. Slight blood stains.”

Good old Gideons, Dougal thought. He recalled that dingy hotel room. Recalled rooting through the bedside drawer, finding an edition small enough to pocket. Recalled how he still clutched it, leaping through glass, pack of slavering Sabbat hot on his heels. Remembered it weigh down his shirt pocket as he ran.

“The second book, a journal. Hand written. Mixture of Equestrian and...unknown language.”

“You write in Equestrian?” Luna asked.

Dougal looked over his shoulder. “Your highness, I write in English.”

Luna rubbed her chin thoughtfully. Dougal turned back, eying that journal.

“Next,” said the unicorn, “one beaded necklace, with silver cross pendent. Pendent adorned with the figure of a...Human with forelimbs stretched wide.”

Noting how long it had been since his last recitation of the fifteen mysteries, Dougal watched the silver Crucifix shine in the light.

“Lastly...one silk bundle.” The unicorn unfurled the silk cloth. Layer by layer, the folds retreated. Finally a leather sheath could be seen. Pulling completely away the silk, it revealed a knife. The handle was mildly etched wood. The blade glittered a bit.

Curious, the unicorn separated the knife from sheath. The blade come loose shone brilliant gold, though caked on the tip with a ruddy brown coat.

Dougal shivered just looking at it.

“One...small Gold dagger, tip stained with dried blood.” The unicorn blinked, staring at the weapon.

Luna's vision took in the dirtied tool. “Anything you wish to declare, Dougal Dempsey?” she said, looking down at the vampire.

He paused, then said, “Nothing upon Equestrian soil, your highness.” Dougal sighed. “You can keep the thing. I have no need of it, anymore.”

“Hmm...” Luna looked to the unicorn behind the desk. She nodded.

The gold dagger went to the side with the pen knife. “These shall be confiscated for safe keeping. The rest you may have back.” The refilled tub – minus two sharp implements – slid magically into a box attached to the metal grate. A guardspony standing nearby stepped forward, retrieved the tub, and forked it over to Dougal.

“Many thanks, good sir,” Dougal said, accepting the tub gladly. His bound hands began rifling through it.

Luna stood by, watching the vampiric human returning effects to his many pockets. Saw him leaf through the thick printed volume, then plant it in his jacket. Then she watched him curiously.

Dougal raised the beaded necklace to his face, examining closely the pendent. He affectionately kissed the little silver man, then pocket the whole item.

To the Princess of Night, the sight of a vampire treating such an item so reverently was...unnerving. “...we will go, now.”

Dougal smiled, rising to his feet. “Of course, your highness.”

---

July 1952

“No, mom, I can't came home. I need to look for another job.”

Dougal paced the kitchen floor, the base of a second-hand telephone in one hand, the receiver held by the other to his face. A fly circled filthy plates, stacked high in the sink. The kitchen table was strewn with bills and half-opened mail. A tray sat beside a cold cup of coffee, filled with ash and used cigarette butts. A heavily marked newspaper lay opened to the classifieds.

“I already tried talking with Mr. Johnson,” Dougal said, tapping the receiver nervously. “He said with all the negative publicity, he can't afford to bring me back...I know, but the public doesn't care that there was another guy. They'll only remember me. Most people probably won't have heard about him anyway...

“...no, I can't come to church, mom. I don't have the time...not even to visit the local places. Mr. Johnson had me busy enough, and then there was Rebecca...

“...mom, I don't need you to set me up with another girl. Rebecca was...she was the one, I know it.” Dougal stopped his pacing briefly. He lifted his hand, studying the engagement ring he kept on his little finger. He'd have to sell it soon, if times continued to be tough. “...plus, mom, I have enough problems as it is...

“...no, I don't think talking to Father Micheals will help. Besides, you know what they say: God helps those who help themselves...what do you mean that's not in the Bible? Sure it is...isn't it?* Whatever, I'll look it up later. Right now I...mom? Are you okay?”

Dougal paused his pacing, looking intently to the floor. His stable frown deepened in surprise. “...mom, that coughing sounds really bad. How long has that been...three weeks? Mom, you should see a doctor about that...”

Knock, knock, knock.

“...hold that thought, mom.” Dougal placed the phone and receiver down, then walked to the front door.

When the door slid open, there was no one on the other side. Dougal peeked out, looking from side to side, checking the apartment halls. In the faint distance one floor down and receding, he could hear footsteps.

Then Dougal glanced at the door itself, and found a sheet of paper pasted to the outside. He took it off.

Back in the kitchen, Dougal took up the phone receiver again. “...mom, maybe I will be coming home,” he said sadly, staring at the Eviction Notice in his hand.

---

Present

“Now where to, your highness?”

“The Throne Room.”

Luna walked regally down the ornate halls of Canterlot Castle, flanked by guardsponies, her blood-drinking charge in tow.

Dougal kept pace almost enthusiastically...at first. As they walked, his pace began to slow imperceptibly, even to himself. He felt an...unease. “...what will we be doing there, if I may ask? Sentencing?”

“If it comes to that,” Luna said flatly. “We will be meeting with my sister and co-ruler, Princess Celestia. She is the Princess of the Day, and if I know her like I think I do, she was not happy to be roused from her slumber so early.”

“...unfortunate...” Dougal said, casting side glances at the princess.

“What was 'unfortunate' was two of our subjects being hospitalized for blood loss,” Luna said tersely. “Why?”

“Other than general hunger?”

“Why so much? Why did you drain two ponies and not be satisfied?”

“I was starving, your highness,” Dougal said. “When I awoke earlier this evening, my supply of blood was almost entirely exhausted. When so famished, Kindred get...ravenous. I assure you I would not otherwise feed so deeply from any one host.”

“I do not find that reassuring, vampire,” Luna said, though she contemplated it. “Ravenous, you said?”

“...I must admit, your highness,” Dougal said, choosing his words carefully, “that a Kindred is not wholly in control of itself, even at the best of times.”

“You are a rampaging animal, then?”

“No, not as such.” Dougal paused ever so briefly, looking into the distance. The hall seemed so vast. He felt a dread, looking into it. “Rather, we are rational beings...caged with a terrible Beast. The Beast cares only for its own gratification; wanting to feed when hungry, sleep all other times. Every Kindred is shackled to the Beast, and must wrestle with it every night, that they may retain their rationality and Humanity. The...Camarilla...was created in part to encourage and enforce civility, Humanity, and restraint.

“Still...I...apologize for...what I did...” Dougal became suddenly very interested in his shoes, his head so lowered. He allowed locks of hair to fall in front of his face.

“Hrmm...” Luna continued walking. “You shall explain that again to my sister momentarily. We're almost there.”

The group passed a great mirror. Dougal noticed it, staring into it. He brushed back his hair. “How do I look?” he asked a guard. The pony said nothing, merely watched him. Dougal's nervous smile dropped a degree. He touched his face. “Is it warmer here, or is it just me?”

Eventually, they reached a set of massive double doors.

Dougal felt...an enormous pressure exuding from the door. “Uh...ah...eagh...” he grunted. A great weight was pressing down on him. “What...time...is it? Is it...dawn, already?” His hands rose to his mouth to stifle an uncomfortable yawn.

“Dawn will not be for two more hours,” Luna said, stepping to the door and turning to face him, “we have plenty of time. And if not, my sister can always keep the sun from rising if we need more time.”

Pause.

“...what?” Dougal said. His face contorted in confusion. He knew what all those words meant individually – somehow – but they created a sentence that, while imaginable, was divorced from any reasonable situation in which it could apply.

“Dougal Dempsey, meet Celestia...” Luna proclaimed, raising her voice. The doors slid open, sending a shaft of light into the hallway. It opened broadly, exposing the ornate throne room. Dougal saw a radiate alicorn sitting atop the high-backed throne. She was resplendent in her finery, a cascade of rainbow colors flowing from her mane. She positively glowed, and gave off great heat.

Luna continued, “...Co-ruler of Equestria, and Princess of the Su-”

“...eug...ack...ah...Ah...AAAAAAH!”

Dougal clutched at his eyes, throwing bound hands in front of him. “AAAAAAAAAAAGGGH!” he screamed, backing away on trembling feet.

“Dougal Dempsey?” said Luna, her royal airs dropping. “Are you alright?”

From within the throne room, Celestia saw the commotion. She took to the air, flying over rapidly. “Luna, my sister, what is-”

“No...NO!” Dougal screamed, scrambling back. “STAY BACK!”

The guards would have stopped him sooner, but they and their rulers could only watch as the vampire's face began smoking. It sizzled and popped.

“AAAAAAAH! GET AWAY!”

“Dougal!” Luna gasped, eyes widening in horror.

Celestia stopped her approach, more horrified yet by the sight and sounds and acrid smell. She cringed. “Oh dear!”

Dougal bolted in the opposite direction. A guard, remembering his duty, moved to intercept. He stood in front of the fleeing vampire.

The vampire slammed into him, looking out from behind clutching fingers. He grabbed the soldier's chestplate with both hands, startling the stallion. The pony looked at the burning face. He looked into the creature's black eyes.

“Keep the princesses away from me!” Dougal commanded.

As the guard entered a daze, Dougal scrambled around him and fled. More guards moved to intercept, but were physically tossed aside as the vampire ran, not seeming the slightest bit hampered by the weight.

“Oh heavens!” Celestia exclaimed, holding a hoof to her face.

“Dougal! Dougal Dempsey, come back here!” Luna began running.

Only to have the guard Dougal met rush into his ruler, forelegs outstretched. He clung to her, grunting with exertion.

“Gah! Zounds! What...what art thou doing, soldier?” Luna exclaimed, wrestling with the guard.

The stallion, gaze vacant, held pushed back against her. “Must...keep...away...” he muttered.

Luna stared into the guard's eyes, seeing his glazed, faraway look. “...mind control...” She scowled.

“Luna, stop,” said Celestia coming up from behind. When Luna disengaged from the guard, Celestia tried to walk past.

The guard shuffled in front of the Solar Diarch, though made no effort to engage. When Celestia moved to the opposite side, the guard followed her.

“Oh my,” Celestia said. “Soldier, stand down.”

“But...must...keep away...”

Luna looked to the other guards. “Pegasi, take to the air,” she said. “Follow that vampire! Do not allow him to escape from the castle, but do not engage if at all possible.”

“Yes, your highness!” saluted a few pegasi guards. They took to the air, flying over the ensorcelled guard. He made no move to stop or follow them, merely watching the Princesses.

Celestia turned back to the guard. “Soldier, look at me.” When he obeyed, Celestia stepped closer. “I'm going to enter your mind. Are you okay with this?”

“...I...” the guard shook his head blearily, “...of...of course, your...majesty...”

As the Solar Diarch lit up her horn and placed it upon the guard's head, the Lunar Diarch looked forlornly down the hall. She could no long see the vampire, nor even the guards sent after him.

Try as she might, she couldn't suppress the feeling that she just did a horrible thing. To a vampire.

This was a new emotion. “...oh dear...”

Author's Note:

* No, it really isn't. Search all you want, that expression is not found in the Bible.

Comments

[Grahf]

one human-like creature with prominent horns.

HA a Gargoyle awesome so he is a Tremere

[maxi106]

I loved this chapter, I never considered that Celestia's mere presence could have affected a vampire like that.