(Archived) Poth Short Stories and One-Shots

Eternal Vow - Chapter 11

Strange.

Palette woke up to an overwhelming sense of 'strange', which was odd in and of itself. His ribcage had been torn open by Lord Arnest's blade; he had been bleeding out. By all accounts, he should be dead, or at least in a great deal of pain. If anything, he felt fine, maybe a bit weak... and strange.

Opening his sockets, the familiar sight of drawn pale curtains on one side of the room he laid in told him he was at the clinic. It looked like he had been changed out of his bloody clothes at some point; a small relief. A shadow darted past the curtain; most likely Violet. "Mi-" Palette tried to call out, choking on a cough instead.

Why did his throat feel so dry?

Luckily, the noise seemed to draw attention as the fabric was pulled back, revealing Violet. She sighed, turning back for a moment with the words, "Fetch Lord Death for me, please," before entering the room and closing the curtain behind her.

Rather than speaking to him as the skeleton expected, the nurse turned his skull toward herself, seemingly inspecting his eye lights closely while muttering something about a 'healthy shade'. Once she let go to write something down on a clipboard, Palette was able to scan the area and notice an important detail: Goth wasn't there.

"Goth...," the servant choked out, gaining Violet's attention, "Wh... where's... Goth...?"

Her expression fell, "You should wait until Lord Death arrives to discuss your master."

The answer only worried Palette more, sending him into a panic as he rolled to his side and pushed himself into a sitting position. Goth had been in rough shape before he passed out; he needed to know they were safe. He had intended on asking whether his companion was okay, but he barely managed the intake of breath necessary when a coughing fit hit him that made his body shudder against his will.

By the time he had managed to rein himself in, the woman had left the room. As he began to contemplate leaving to search for Goth himself, she came back with a cup. Pressing it into his hands, Violet ordered, "Drink this."

Complying with her request, if only to sate his dry throat, he was surprised to find that strength was leeching back into him as he drank more of the slightly tangy liquid. Peering into the cup, his eye lights shrunk upon registering the dark red hue of the liquid. Swiping his thumb across his mouth, it came back with a red smear as well. Looking up at the woman, he hesitantly asked, "Miss Violet... did you give me blood?"

"Yes, because you are a vampire now."

Both occupants turned to the doorway where Reaper was pulling the curtain open. A grim expression adorned his face as he pulled the fabric shut once more and took a seat on the edge of the cot.

"I... what? How... ?" Palette hesitated on the question, more confused and anxious than anything. His hands reached up to his mouth, his finger tracing along the edges of his canines to find they were indeed longer and sharper than before. 

"For the same reason my son is absent," Reaper breathed, his sockets drooping at the mention of the young vampire.

The words felt like they were drawn from him, "Where is he; where's Goth? Is... is he...?" The younger's breath hitched on his words; his soul pounding frantically in his chest, dreading the answer.

"He is alive," Reaper stated, heaving a sigh as he continued, "but he cannot come to see you. He has been imprisoned for the non-consensual turning of a mortal. He admitted to turning you without your permission to save you and has been given a life sentence as punishment."

---

Goth laid curled up on his cot, his back to the silver bars of his dim cell as he stared at his bandaged left hand and the bloody streak from where he had cut himself. The vampire flexed his hand, wincing at the dull pain that lanced up his humerus.

Good. He couldn't let himself forget.

His mind drifted to his last moments with Palette, how he desperately tried to get permission to turn his companion before they passed out; how he decided to turn the servant anyway, hastily slicing open his hand with his scythe and pressing it to the injury. The relief he felt when the wound began closing was immeasurable despite the repercussions he would inevitably face.

When the guards arrived with his father in tow minutes later, Goth had told them every damning detail, not regretting his decision even as Russel and the other guards lead him away to the prison sector for his sentencing.

All that mattered to him was that Palette was still alive.

A noise echoed down the corridor; he disregarded it as a routine change in the guards. Russel had been distraught bringing him down here; even more so when Goth refused the canteen that now laid beside his bed.

How would Palette react when he woke up and found he was a vampire now? It wouldn't be surprising if the taller resented him; while the skeleton said they wouldn't mind, they were also happy as a mortal. Tears welled up in Goth's sockets and he vigorously rubbed them away with his sleeve, berating himself for the emotions. He had no right to cry or be upset, he deserved whatever he got for taking away his companion's mortality against their will.

"Goth, are y- ah!" The vampire jumped at the sound of Palette's voice and yelp, rolling over into a sitting position to see the taller standing on the other side of the bars, rapidly shaking out their hands.

Goth's father appeared moments later, gently lecturing them, "Mind the bars; silver affects you now."

"Right, sorry," Palette groaned with a nod of his skull. When he turned back to the cell, Goth was able to get a full view of his starry eye lights that were now a red gradient where green and yellow used to reside.

Guilt hit the small vampire full force and he turned away in shame, fully expecting the newly-turned vampire to curse him for what he did. He didn't respond when his companion called out to him nor did he look up when his father muttered something he couldn't decipher, but he did jolt when he heard the cell door creak open.

He hunched in on himself, mentally steeling himself for criticism and harsh words. What he received instead was a body slamming into his back and wrapping their arms around him in a tight hug. While the embrace and the tingling warmth weren't too surprising, Palette immediately releasing the hug was.

Goth turned to find Palette staring at him wearing a puzzled expression; as if they had been bitten and didn't know how to respond. "Are... are you alright?" the smaller prompted hesitantly.

The words snapped his companion out of their thoughts. Palette pulled him into another hug while whispering, "I am now. I'm so happy to see you; I was so afraid something had happened to you when I didn't see you at the clinic."

Now it was Goth's turn to be confused, "... Why? You should despise me."

"Because you turned me into a vampire?" Palette guessed, pulling away to look at him.

"Yes," the smaller croaked, avoiding their gaze while fighting down the urge to cry, "I took away the very thing that made you who you are."

"Goth, look at me," Palette commanded gently. When the smaller complied, his companion was smiling softly, "You didn't take anything away from me; you gave me exactly what I wanted. I said I wasn't ready to go and wanted to stay with you... and thanks to you, I can. You saved me; you did nothing wrong."

"But you didn't give consent; you said, "I can't". I still broke the rules," Goth countered, still adamant that his behavior wasn't acceptable.

"He notified us he was attempting to say, "I can't hear you", but was unable to get the words out," Reaper cut in, leaning on the wall outside the cell with his trademark casual grin, "After young Palette awoke, he was immensely upset to hear you were locked away and made it abundantly clear he would have said yes if he had heard the question properly. As such, no crime has been committed."

"Really?" Goth murmured, getting an enthusiastic nod from the taller, "Then... I'm free?"

"You're free," Palette confirmed, hugging him for the third time since entering the prison cell; and for the first time since he began reacting to his companion's touch, Goth accepted the contact and let himself be warmed by the comforting embrace.

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Word Count: 1,463