Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Allegro blinks slowly, the wash of heat searing and comforting.

Screams rend the air, the chorus a crackle and flare of growing flames. He feels like he's dreaming. None of this is real. It can't be. Can it?

The pews are empty, overturned and charring quickly. In his hand, the gold band flickers under the firelight as he twists it over and over between his fingers. The officiant's podum is overturned by his feet, and the metal of the blessed bells overhead groan from the change in temperature. Limp in his other arm, the dog pants haggardly, snuffling closer as her blood stains the rich cloth of his wedding robes.

It's… strange. If Allegro could, he'd cry, he'd howl and shriek, because. Because this must be a dream. It must be. He just needs to wake up. Any moment now.

Because, if it isn't, then that means… that means she didn't pick him. That Fine chose otherwise, chose that Warm anyway. Didn't choose him . 

Is there any world where she would have? Allegro wonders, and his fingers spasm. 

The ring tumbles, disappears into the growing flames, and he staggers down a step. He can feel the cold blood dribbling down his lips beginning to sizzle, bubble. A faint popping under the thunder and gnash of bullets and teeth.

He finds himself in a heap against the altar stairs in the next moment, the ceiling a dizzying whorl of bright red and orange. Allegro gazes across the growing sea of fire, the still and buring bodies of vampires and Warms alike. He meets the dead, blistered and black gaze of the root of this all, and cannot conjure up even the barest of hatred, of rage nor anguish. He watches as the fire curls and eats up her long hair, darkens the hollows of her thin cheeks and cleanses her bones of rotten flesh.

Everything is numb. Nothing hurts, not even the weeping wounds dotted across his back.

This must be a dream.

It has to be.

"Dear God," he prays, the snap of the flames rising in pitch. "Dear God in Heaven, please draw the sleep from my eyes and provide to me perfect and clear sight."

Dear God, please let me wake—

Chapter Text

This is happiness.

It must be.

Allegro stares listly ahead, still as the seamstresses flit around him, pin cloth here, pin cloth there by the torch light. The weight of fabric is the only thing that keeps him tethered to the moment, the rhythmic swish of the air under careful hands. He misses Fine's smile, the high flush to her cheeks, her lively eyes. The distance wears at him, even if it is such a short time drawing ever quicker to an end. Allegro just… doesn't know what to do anymore.

He is happy, he is. He will be. He must be. He has to be. How could he not be?

A soft tug has him raise his left arm, the rich colors of the robe sparkling. Allegro tilts his head, and a servant tips a sip of blood against his lips. He wonders if his blood bag has returned yet. It galls him, the freedom he has given the creature, but. Well. Needs must.

A squeal brings him back to the present, and he snarls, whipping his head around at the tailor who grimaces and shies back from the dog. 

"I, I apologize, I pricked her, just a little," the vampire says, eyes wide, and immediately kneels over completely. "Please forgive me, I am unused to such splendid anatomy; I am still learning."

Unsure, his treasured companion glances up at him, and then wags her tail from under pinned fabric, comforted by his attention and ultimately… unhurt. Lip curling, Allegro faces forward once more. At his silence, movement returns to the room, everyone having frozen with baited breath. 

His reputation continues to precede him strangely. None fear him amongst the ranks, awed and respectful of his might, but those who have hidden all their lives within the safety of this far north still… find him frightening. Oh, Allegro knows what they whisper; he gets to hear all of the scathing gossip and anxious murmurs in venomous jabs nearly every night, has for the last several months. Let them weave their miserable rumors of him; it matters not so long as they keep well to themselves. He allows blatant disrespect from one creature and one creature only, but she understands the punishment for rejecting her betters, knows she may only say such things to him and no one else. 

His dear little blood bag that is all but invisible in a vampire's daily life, his roaming ears. Such a horrible, slovenly little being she is, but his all the same. Allegro feels a smile cross his lips at the thought of her angry, muddy eyes, her misguided comfort at hoarding what little power she believes she has. Her madness is but papercuts to his skin, a thousand little wounds that he will bear to make sure none lay at Fine's feet.

Things will… change once they are married. Allegro refuses to be her ball and chain, but they must wait. They must appease the Elders, and then… well, they can disappear for all he cares. He knows what they would have made him do if Fine had not rejoined the war effort, had she been just that bit more weary, and he shall slaughter them all for it. 

That, too, will be happiness.

"We are finished with the fitting," murmurs a voice, and Allegro flutters his eyes before finding his reflection. "Please return in a week for adjustments."

The smile drips from his double's face, and the seamstress does her level best not to flinch, her assistants cloistering by the back wall. One approaches with his war cloak and overgarments. Almost mechanically, Allegro allows himself to be redressed, still unused to the attention. The dog pads over to snuffle at his feet onces he steps down from the platform, and follows him out of the room with a happy huff.

Once they are alone in the hall, he follows her two hallways over to a particularly deep and overlooked shadow cast by a column, and withholds a snarl as pale, warm hands appear to rub her ears. His blood bag ignores him for her, scratching deeply along her chin and along her spine. Allegro allows it for one long moment, before growling low in his throat.

He can hear the shift of her bones, the tightness in her muscles, as she stands. Cloth rustles, and a twinned roll of paper appears. Allegro snatches it from her hand, hiding the letter within an inner pocket, and clicks his tongue. Immediately, the dog pulls away to prance around his feet, and without another sound he sweeps away, footsteps following in his wake.

"... She was well past inebriated again today."

"Silence," he snaps, unwilling to tolerate her at the moment, heart aching at the words.

But the stupid little thing must be feeling fairly daring today, for she continues with, "The blood was still untouched, rotten in the bottle. Momo still unblemished—"

Her words cut off with a stifled yelp as Allegro whirls around, fingers wrapping around her thin, fragile neck. Wide, brown eyes glare up at him despite it, the pinned back hair fanning free with the movement. He could end her miserable existence right now, this very second — his grip tightens, undoubtedly bruising the weak flesh, but that is all he may allow himself. Allegro presses harder, and the human's arm flies up, cloak falling free to reveal the dark, mottled skin of her inner elbow.

Smirking, he lets go. "You'd do well to remember your place," he chides, and dusts superficially at her clothes as she coughs, eyes watering. "My patience grows thin."

She doesn't respond, only briefly but suitably cowed he's sure. Allegro spins on a heel, but only gets a couple steps when again the warm speaks as if the walls may not have ears. 

"I lied."

What? "What?" he snarls, turning back around. 

The human massages at her throat, eyes flinty in the poor light. "I said," she repeats lowly, "I lied. They weren't there when I went. I waited. They never came. I found the letter as usual, but… I don't know where they went or if they're even coming back."

Hateful rage and bewilderment well, a not so small part of Allegro cursing the pitiful creature for her cleverness — she is his only connection to Fine right now and she could still be lying and he wouldn't know. He wishes he knew what tipped her off on how much he's agonizingly had to rely on her recently, unable to compare what he himself sees with the tales she spins.

Allegro is alone, and this human apparently knows it.

"Your usefulness is fading by the moment," he says, because of course they would come back, Fine's Warm wouldn't leave without his and she knows this. But, for them to venture beyond the walls now, under such scrutiny— "If I cannot trust your poor word, what use are you?"

Even as he says this, Allegro's thoughts race because he should have known better. Of course Fine wanders, that's just in her nature; this cannot be the first time if it's true at all. How long has this damnable creature been abusing the length of her leash?

He should have forgotten about that dream. He never should have thought it more than a nightmare, merely the consequence of sudden insecurities at an ill-timed moment of vulnerability. Allegro should have known better, but. But, Fine had looked so, so happy. Something he hasn't seen in such a long time, even if a poor amalgamation of his truest desires and weakness.

Her smile is something he misses more than he'd like to admit, and she had positively beamed for the first time in so long all because of that—

"Stop drinking from me."

Allegro bares his teeth, caught off guard by the demand. 

The human glares, arms hidden again under her cloak. "Stop drinking from me, and I'll never lie again."

"And how can I ever again trust your word?" he returns, now cursing himself for ever thinking he even remotely could. When had she figured he cared more for Fine's happiness than his idle threats to her dear champion? "Why shouldn't I drink you dry where you stand?"

"You need me."

A scoff immediately escapes his lips. "You think too highly of yourself," Allegro hisses, stalking back up to her, crowding her flat against the nearest wall, fangs sharp. "I do not need you."

But the thought is there. Is this desperate thing naive enough to believe his word? To a human, Allegro cares not for his reputation; they are an undeserving existence of nothing more than the basics, stupid creatures, and he will not need her soon enough. He will not need to pander to expectations, to appearances; he will not need to care for anything else besides Fine's happiness. Allegro will free Fine from her cage, but for just a while longer—

"You need me," she repeats, looking up into his eyes, baring her neck, and then twists the dagger she has carefully placed in the kink of his armor. "You need me to keep her happy, to keep Momo happy, who makes her happy like you never have."

It doesn't matter if she’s lying now. If she has been lying. This, at least, is a bitter truth that Allegro must still swallow. 

"... Fine," he growls into her ear, and lets his fangs graze the tender vein that thunders just under skin. "But, if you are found to be lying to me again…"

The Warm swallows, sweat beading at her brow, and nods, teeth grinding behind her lips.

Allegro shoves her into the rough stone, lips curling with disgust. He will kill her regardless when the time comes, of that he promises. 

He will be unhappy with anything less.

Chapter Text

There are whispers in the halls about unrest beyond the snow.

Allegro cannot care; there's no longer any more room in his heart to do so.

The war is over, isn't it?

Chapter Text

This is what it now means to feel alive.

It is awful.

Allegro blinks, the rush of loathing dripping away. There is blood in his mouth, a body beneath his foot. His shoulders roll, and he pulls back, grip tight around bird hollow bone. Skin, muscle, and tendon tear, the sound sharp in his ears over his ragged breath. A muffled scream bounces around the gleaming stone walls, glittering, cold crystal. 

The elders watch from on high, eyes bright spots of red.

Fine watches from on high, eyes lidded slivers of beautiful silver. 

He drops the vampire's arms, firms his perch upon their spine, draws up. Fine looks away. The elders stare. The whimpers cut off with a pitiful crack, squelch. Allegro thinks he knew her, but that doesn't matter anymore. 

Is it strange he isn't quite sure when he got here?

From the shadows, attendants rush forward, damp towels and blood in hand. He and the body are tugged in opposite directions, the smears wiped from his cheeks as he's led away. Anything said to him is a white noise he can't understand. Allegro gulps down the blood pressed to his lips, and then shoves the attendant away to displeased buzzing. 

He had the dream again. 

Why did he have the dream again?

Allegro blinks, finds himself halfway out of his vestments and somehow back in his quarters. He nearly tears the waist tie, barely catches the bitten off breath in the corner of the room as he pauses. Bloodbag. He's still so thirsty.

"Come here," he hisses, blearily surveying the thin gloom. It's… bright. Candles? "Come here."

There's a shuffling noise, like paper, like cloth, a breath, and then darkness. Then she is there. He drinks. His nerves settle, and the day comes back to him a little more clearly. Dropping the warm's arm, he turns away to the bathroom, closes the door behind him without a look back.

A midday challenge to his right to Fine's hand.

He'd wondered if he'd get any. Idly, not seriously.

A sigh escapes him, a trembling exhale. He thinks he knew her, somehow, another noble maybe. She must not have known him well, though. Pity. Challenges can only end one way. 

Allegro stumbles over to the vanity, hands bracing along the sink, and blinks at his reflection. Hair windswept, eyes wide, teeth too full for his mouth. He brushes at an errant loc, and growls at the tremble to his hand.

He's… He's never had to put down one of their own before. Let alone over something so ridiculous. They all should know better. In what world would he ever fail Fine? He'd rend them limb from limb in her honor. Would do anything for her, but.

He's never… never had to… 

Frustrated, he pushes away from the counter, shucking the last of the clothes for the large, rounded tub. He crawls in and turns the faucet, fills the tub with water hot enough to burn a Warm. It hurts, but it keeps him there, doesn't let him spiral into the hazy after echoes of Fine's smile superimposed over frightened glazed eyes and a broken jaw.

"Idiot," he sneers, the water up to his bent knees, shoulders by his ears. It sloshes over the edges as he hunches over further, the tip of his nose to the frothing steam. He closes his eyes. "Stupid, stupid —"

He had that dream again. 

Allegro closes that miniscule gap, plunging his face beneath the searing surface. Bubbles fizzle by his ears as he exhales a frustrated but silent scream.

He had that dream again. He had that dream again. He had that dream again .

Fine wouldn't— He wouldn't— Except, he would have. Allegro knows that, hates that about himself because he's doing it, right now. Except that idiotic, stupid version of himself did not have his heart in it, spineless, gutless, coward . He let Fine out of his sight. He let her get hurt, let her think he'd ever be anything other than on her side, let the Elders see that weakness, and look at what happened—

He should have killed them then and there. Killed them as soon as they dared to take advantage. Pulled their wings from their backs like the arms of hapless warms, torn out their throats and crushed their ribs—

Allegro hopes she knows that now. He has to make sure she does—

With a soft gasp, he rears up, the water running pink rivets off his jaw. He breathes into the silence, deep breaths, and leans back against the tub, sliding down to his chin. Allegro stares at the ceiling, the dark spots fuzzy to his wet eyes.

"It… It was just a dream," he croaks, but.

 It felt so real.