Snowstorm (Thirdunion Vampire AU pt 1)

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Disclaimer: I don't support nazism (Ew, gosh, no, that's disgusting!!!). This is just a story of fictional characters in a little fictional world. If you don't feel comfortable with this, just skip this chapter. Thank u!

I finally got a little bit of inspiration to think of this, and the energy to do it. So, let's get started!

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Third's POV

Being a vampire wasn't an easy life at all.

He had been born condemned, cursed because of the actions of some far away relative that had angered the wrong witch. That long forgotten ancestor had been too focused on spreading a reign of horror, of fulfilling his (metaphorical) thirst of blood to understand that there were creatures far more powerful than him. In result, he had ended up killing the loved one of a powerful woman, and she had used every drop of power inside of her destroyed heart to curse him and the rest of his bloodline.

'You will not have the pleasure of touching the sun once again, you will suffer the pain of watching your children rot away in despair, everyone you love will perish by your hands and your desire of blood will become your only source of life, yet you'll still live for ages, you will suffer the pain of the immortality you've been longing for.'

The woman had spoke, condemning her own soul just to make her terrible revenge reality.

He sighed.

He had learnt about the curse too many ages ago, when he was still a little kid. He remembered the somber expression of his father while he cried asking why did the sun hated him so much. Then his father had crouched, bandaging the little hand and responding him with a voice filled with sorrow.

'It's time you learn about the curse' The man had spoke and then he had told him the story.

'But we didn't do anything dad. Maybe we can tell Miss Witch that we're sorry? What that man did was wrong, and maybe all she wants is for us to say sorry!' he had retorted innocently and his father had laughed, tears on his eyes.

'It's not that easy Third, a curse cannot be undone, but I'm sure Miss Witch would be grateful to hear that. Why don't we go and lit some candles for her?' His father had said wishing for his son to keep his heart intact, uncorrupted and optimistic.

That had been a long time ago tho' and the world had made sure to strip his heart from all positive things, leaving just pain.

It had started with his father's death, when he had stopped drinking blood completely. He was sure it had something to do with a lovely young man called Poland that had conquered his father's heart. Unable to let the other know he was a 'monster' and refusing to end up killing him -like he had done with his and Weimar's mother- he had decided to die peacefully on his loved one's arms, letting the weakness of hunger and the rays of sun end finally with his life.

He could still remember the sound of the screams of the poor human when the man he had loved for a few years, had started dissolving into his lap.

But at least he had died happily.

In a way, he wished Weimar's death had been something similar to his father. His baby brother hadn't even had the opportunity of discovering life when he had been captured. After a whole week of what had been, most likely, pure pain and torture, he had been burned in the plaza of the little town, screaming and squirming to get away from the fire until all that was left was a pile of ashes and half burned bones.

The smell was impossible to forget.

He had lost it all, and all that had been left of him was a carcass fighting to survive. His 'life' had been reduced to stay in the old family mansion in the middle of the woods, go outside to feed at night and sleep when the sun was up. The routine had become a bothersome constant on his life, but it had been the only thing keeping him together...

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