The Legend III

The Legend III

Dream Walker

Vampire Hunter D Fan Fiction

#Hiya! I'm back with the third story in The Legend. It's been a really, really, long time. Meh. Busy. Exams coming up, yada yada. Anyway. What a way to open my new story with a horrible sadistic chapter O and there's more where this came from. Warning to anyone out there who likes my heroine Vianne...she gets bashed. Hard. For this entire story. Trust me, it breaks my heart to see my lovely OC being tortured (by me, indirectly. i'm so ironic). But oh well. Happy heroines are too unrealistic for cynical me. Well she won't die yet, so grieve not! Enjoy (especially all you sadists out there! yes, you)!

Chapter 1: Siera

The thin, fragile-looking girl in ragged black clothes walked alone up to the black carriage, weaving as if she could not see where she was going. The moonlight shone down on her, revealing a pale face half-hidden by her long, messy hair. She was pretty, but her cheeks were slightly sunken in and her unfocussed eyes bereft of life, as if some part of her soul had been drained away.

Her hand stretched out as she neared the carriage. She tottered unsteadily as she took the last few steps, stopping when her hand rested against the side of the carriage. Sliding her palm in a practised search pattern over the lacquered black wood, she soon found the door handle. Curling her fingers around it and gave it a yank. Then she backed away until her back hit a tree. The reason for the blankness in her eyes was evident. She was blind.

"Come out, vampire," she whispered. "Come and get me."

The carriage door swung silently open. The vampire within lifted his hand from the exposed bosom of the young woman he had been caressing just a moment ago and stood to exit the vehicle. The beautiful, voluptuous redhead let out a whimper of relief and scrambled deeper into the carriage to curl up, shaking, in a corner. She pulled her chemise back up over her shoulders and clutched the thin white fabric tightly in place.

"You will know the price of interrupting my sport, wench," the vampire, now standing right in front of the blind girl, growled softly. A deathly pale hand reached for her throat. She felt the brush of his fingertips, but held her ground. As his fingers curled around her neck, she lifted her face, letting the concealing curtain of hair fall aside.

"Ah," the vampire crooned. "A pretty one, if a little bedraggled. In that case …"

The hand around the girl's throat moved down and began to unlace her shirt. She reached out with a shaky hand and found his face by touch. With a teasing finger at the vampire's chin, she guided his face down near to hers. She turned her face aside, exposing her neck, tempting him. As the vampire nuzzled her neck, wondering whether to bite her yet, she put her lips to his ear and whispered, "It's the end for you, lecherous freak."

"What?" the vampire straightened and whipped around. The last thing he saw was a dark figure standing on the roof of his carriage. Then an arc of silver momentarily decorated the air, and he was bisected neatly down the centre. The slayer of the vampire had already sheathed his bright sword when the two halves of the body let out a spray of blood and fell to either side.

"Are you hurt?" the pale young man, whose handsome face was shaded from the moonlight by a black wide-brimmed hat, asked the blind girl.

"I'm fine," she replied perfunctorily. "You might want to take a look inside the carriage. I thought I heard someone inside."

She took hold of the edge of the vampire hunter's cloak and followed him as he approached the open carriage door. She could hear it now, the sobbing of the vampire's prisoner.

"You can come out now," she heard her companion say. "The vampire is dead."

"Why should I trust you?" a tear-soaked voice shot back. "You don't look so different from a vampire yourself! You and the harlot at your side! What kind of proper woman would have the audacity to seduce a vampire?"

"Hey, watch your mouth, you bitch," the blind girl snapped. "We just saved you, so show a little fucking appreciation and a little less fucking attitude. Try 'thank you', instead of a goddamn bunch of insults."

"Vianne, we could do with a little less of your colourful language right now," the hunter informed the blind girl quietly.

"Fine, deal with the unpleasant woman yourself," Vianne said bad-temperedly. She stalked off to sulk, as she often did these days, a few metres away. All her kindness and patience of old had been replaced by cynicism and hostility since she had become blind about a month ago.

"What a self-righteous little hussy," the woman in the carriage scoffed.

"Are you all right?" the hunter asked. His tone of voice suggested he did not entirely care. But then again, he always spoke like that.

"What, trying to find out if I'm still edible?" the woman spat.

"For the last time, you idiot, he isn't a vampire, and neither am I," Vianne said loudly from where she stood. "He's a vampire hunter. Heard of those, O ignorant one?"

"No one asked for your opinion, whore," the woman snarled.

For a blind person, Vianne found her way back to the carriage door with surprising speed and accuracy. Leaning through the opening, she hissed in the woman's general direction, "It's not my opinion, you disagreeable bitch, it's a fact. Get your vocabulary right before you try to disparage people. As for me being indecent, you aren't any better. Are you trying to tell me the vampire has never touched you? I bet you even enjoyed it, didn't you?"

There was a screech of distress from the woman within. "Vianne," the hunter said in warning. "That's going too far."

"Look, D, I have a problem with ungrateful sluts who dish out insults to the people who save them from vampires. She insulted me, not you, so you stay out of this," Vianne retorted.

"D? You're the vampire hunter D? The … dhampir?" the woman in the carriage cut in suddenly. Her tone of voice had changed abruptly. Where it had been hard and cutting before, it was now soft, breathy and full of wonder. Almost seductive, even.

"I am called D," the hunter answered simply.

"I've heard of you," the woman said. "I'm sorry I wronged you … I really thought you were a vampire. My name is Siera. Thank you for rescuing me."

Vianne let out a groan of disgust and walked away again. "Two-faced bitch."

"I was paid to kill the vampire, nothing more," D said.

"I was being quite unpleasant. I guess I was just scared and defensive. I extend my apologies and appreciation to your companion as well."

"Don't need 'em, thanks for nothing," Vianne said bluntly.

Siera rushed out of the carriage, ran up to Vianne and grabbed the younger woman's hands. "Please, I didn't mean what I said to you. You must forgive me."

Vianne yelped in surprise and yanked her hands away. "Fine, whatever! Just … don't touch me!"

Siera stared at the blind girl with tears in her green eyes. "Do … do you find me … unclean? I swear! I swear he hasn't done anything to me! I'm still chaste … I haven't been bitten … I'm not defiled …" she stammered, eventually dissolving into tears and sinking to her knees.

Vianne let out a cry of exasperation. "Stop it already! I don't think you're unclean, okay? I would think myself unclean first. I just don't like being touched by strangers. It has something to do with not being able to see what they're doing."

"I'm sorry," Siera mewled piteously. "Do you really not think I'm filthy?"

For the first time, a trace of sympathy surfaced in Vianne's expression. "Yeah. You're gonna be fine," she said in a grudgingly soothing voice.

D moved to help Siera to her feet. "We'll take you back to the town. It's a two week ride from here. You'll be home soon."

"Oh, thank you," Siera murmured, burying her face in D's shoulder.

"Don't think too much on it. We're going back to collect his payment anyway," Vianne said. She was sick of Siera's cloying voice. "Wait. How are three people going to fit on one horse?"

"We could take the carriage," D said.

"No!" Siera screamed suddenly. "I refuse to go back into it!"

"How about we just take one of the horses?" Vianne suggested. "There are horses, right? I'm assuming. She can follow us on one."

D glanced at the two cyborg horses, not too different from his own, tethered to the carriage. It would slow them down, but it would work. Turning to Siera, he asked, "Can you ride?"

"No," she replied. "Even if I could, I would have nothing to do with that carriage whatsoever."

"Shut up already," Vianne snapped, losing her patience. "I'll ride the damn thing by myself. D can take you on his horse. Jeez. Don't you ever stop whining?"

"You can't see where you're going," Siera said. "How could I make you ride on your own?"

Good point. Vianne was quiet for a moment. Then she rolled her eyes and said, "Are you stupid or what? D can hold the reins and lead it along." Please, just shut up now so that we can get going and be rid of you sooner.

Sensing the raw edge to Vianne's temper, D said, "It's settled then."

"About time," Vianne grumbled under her breath as D spread a thick blanket from inside the carriage over the horse's back and helped her onto it.

For the umpteenth time since the journey back to town began, Vianne found herself rolling her sightless eyes. Siera was the most irritating creature she had ever come across.

I bet she's gorgeous and blonde.

Right on one count, at least. Siera's hair was the colour of polished copper though.

"Please, don't leave my side while I sleep. I dream, whenever I drift off. I dream of him, of how he touched me…"

Disgusting. Vianne rolled over in her blankets, a comfortable distance away from where Siera clung to D like a proverbial leech, and went to sleep.

Vianne opened her eyes when she woke, out of habit. She was lying on a large, elegantly carved bed made with heavy, classy sheets. The room around her was filled with extremely dim purplish light. It was a small room with no doors or windows, and the only other piece of furniture in the room was a low dresser. Black fog milled around low to the ground, such that she could not see the floor.

Abruptly, it struck her that she could see. Surprise and joy flooded through her before she realised that she was in a dream. Wondering what was going on, she looked down at herself. She was wearing a plain, semi-translucent long-sleeved white nightdress. The hem barely covered her hips.

Then she noticed the presence of another being in the room. She looked up again and saw a figure standing at the foot of the bed. It was a male figure, wrapped in a long dark purple cloak. His face was completely shrouded in shadow.

The figure climbed onto the bed. A lean, muscular arm reached from within the folds of the cloak, and a human-looking hand touched her leg. Vianne tried to shy away from the contact, but found that she could not move a muscle. Panic began to build in her chest.

The faceless man crawled over her while she lay still and powerless on the bed. She let out a scream of pain and shock when he shot his index finger all the way into her vagina. His free hand grabbed her breast and squeezed it painfully, kneading it as his finger clawed away inside her. He seemed completely oblivious to her cries of pain.

He withdrew his finger, smearing her fluids on the inside of her thigh. Then he threw the cloak off, revealing himself to be stark naked underneath it. His sculpted body was completely hairless, and looked as if it were chiselled out of smooth rock. His skin was the dead, ugly white of a maggot. The erect organ between his legs was huge by human standards.

The pale man pushed the skirt of Vianne's dress up over her waist, exposing her entire pelvis. With smooth, hard hands he roughly shoved her legs wide open, then forced his large penis into her with a ferocious thrust. She felt something inside tear.

Vianne screamed, and in that moment she regained control of her body. She thrashed wildly, trying to throw the man off. But it was no use; he was firmly lodged between her legs. He pressed himself down upon her, immobilising her with his weight.

His large hands grabbed her shoulders and pinned them down on the mattress. Pushing his torso up to give himself a better angle, he pulled halfway out of her and thrust in again, hard, until his hips ground against hers. She let out a choked cry of pain.

The man ducked down and bit down hard on the base of her neck, then pulled his head back as if trying to tear her flesh off. She wailed, struggling even harder. But the man's strength was inhuman -- he kept her restrained with no effort at all.

Then he began a thrusting frenzy with his hips, shoving his shaft into her again and again, each time with brutal force. As his thrusting picked up speed, Vianne, who was in too much pain to even cry out, smelt blood in the air, and felt considerable amounts of it soaking into the sheets around her crotch.

As he raped her, the man was busy with his mouth, leaving bleeding bite marks on various spots on her neck and even on her chest. She soon lost the strength to even struggle, and was reduced to flailing weakly while tears streamed from her eyes.

Suddenly the man went still with his head thrown back, and Vianne felt something pumping out of him into her. She screamed, and somehow found the strength to thrash about again; she did not want that stuff in her body.

When the ejaculation ended, the man ripped his shaft out of her with such force that fresh strobes of pain shot through her nerves. She twisted aside, blinded by tears. She felt defiled, tainted, corrupted by his violation. And it hurt so much...

"D ..." Vianne choked out the name of the one upon whom she depended for protection.

"Do you think he can save you?" the faceless man asked, his deep, hoarse voice filled with contempt. "What foolishness. Had he been able to save you from blindness? No, wait, I forgot. He caused your blindness because he wasn't there to protect you."

With that, he grabbed her by the hair and flung her off the bed. She rolled across the floor and crashed into the dresser. She could not see here -- she was surrounded by the black, blinding fog. She could not breathe either, for it choked her, smothered her...

She could vaguely feel the man kicking her in the ribs, in her stomach and across her back. It hurt, it hurt like hell, but she barely noticed, because she was already slipping away.

Then the man grabbed a handful of her dress and hauled her up out of the fog. She took a deep, painful breath, and air rushed into her lungs, expanding her battered ribcage. By the time he slammed her down on top of the dresser, she had lost consciousness.

Vianne sat bolt upright, her eyes flying open. Her entire body was drenched in cold sweat, and her breathing was harsh and ragged. She could feel thin streaks of crust left by dried tears on her face. Yet, comfortingly, she could see nothing but infinite darkness. There was no burning pain between her legs, no choking fog, no blood. She had escaped.

Over to her right, she could hear Siera sobbing. Probably falling all over D, too. Something about her deceased, but nonetheless very frightening vampire captor. Vianne's heart burned with fear of falling back asleep, and she thought of calling out for D. Nah. He has his hands full with that pathetic woman. I'm stronger than she is. I won't be like her. I'll be fine.

She lay back down and pulled her blanket over her head. Sleep did not come. Somewhat thankful for that, she lay awake in the darkness that was, for her, perpetual.