Name: Kostadin Du Val

Age: 35 (looks) 6,850 (actual)

Family: Idris Alfarsi - biological father (unclaimed) | Lord & Lady Du Val (deceased)

Species: Blooded Vampire

Rank: Knight & Lord of Du Val

Faceclaim: Chris Pine

Clever | Strategic | Humorous

Untrusting | Closed-Off | Sarcastic

There’s a certain burning shame to being an illegitimate child to a man of high status. Branded from birth as a mistake, unwanted by your own flesh and blood. Not to say he didn’t try. No, the effort was there; it’s the love that was missing.

I was born on a dismal day in late October. The rain poured from the skies in torrents of icy water, the inky clouds turning the daytime sky as dark as night. The roof of the weather worn cottage was so old, rainwater dripped through numerous cracks in the wooden roof, splashing in small puddles that scattered the room, or so I’ve been told. My father is Idris, a man of importance to the Vampiric royal family. My mother is no one, a nameless woman whom I’ve never met. I was told she died in childbirth, a fact I had no choice but to accept.

I was privileged in a sense. Instead of rejecting me, my father made sure I was well taken care of. He entrusted me to Lord and Lady Du Val, a noble couple of the royal court. This way I could be in touch with my father without anyone having to know the truth behind our connection. Still, it hurt a part of my soul to know he’d rather keep me his shameful secret than love me like his own son.

That isn’t to say I didn’t have a beautiful childhood. Lord and Lady Du Val were blessed parents to me, who aided and cared for me like one of their own. My fondest childhood memories are of them. The one I remember most vividly is the night we rode out to watch the stars. I was only seven years old, tucked between the arms of Lady Du Val, my hands knotted in the coarse hair of the stallion’s mane. The sky was so clear that night, the sea of stars so gorgeous, like someone had spilled a bottle of diamonds across black velvet. Sitting in the lush grass between my adoptive parents, naming what constellations we could find - I will never forget that night.

My parents provided me with teachers in every subject: maths, science, literature and languages. They taught me how to speak French, Italian, and German. They taught me how to ride horses since the age of eight. The Lady taught me how to use a bow and arrow, the Lord taught me how to wield a sword. They loved me and I loved them.

But as much as I tried to ignore it, I couldn’t help the seething jealousy whenever I saw my real father with his children - my half siblings. Idris had gone and married himself a respectable women, and together they had wonderful, acceptable children. Sometimes I would watch with my hands clenched around the covers of my science book, unable to look away from Idris parading his children around the courtyard, hand-in-hand, with a fatherly grin on his face. I was eleven years old then, and I remember thinking that no child my age should feel so much betrayal.

In public, Idris would interact with me with familiar professionalism. He would address me as Lord Kostadin, I would call him Sir Idris. In private, he would train me. Idris was a member of the Bastion, and even though I could never join their ranks as his dirty little secret, Idris insisted I be as deadly as the King’s personal guardsmen. He pretended I was to join the court of Knights when I was old enough, as to not raise any suspicion as to why I was receiving combative training. As I grew older, the gap between us grew wider. I would stop trying to vie for his approval or be friendly with him in secret. I was seventeen when I finally stopped considering him my father. He was Idris, nothing more than a biological component in my conception.

When I was twenty-six, my parents were approached by Lord and Lady Windham, asking if they would accept me as a potential prospect for an arranged marriage to their daughter, Victoria. I had seen her around here and there. She was smart and independent, with an impressive family lineage. Except I didn’t want an arranged marriage. My life was already comprised of people making decisions for me, I wasn’t going to let marriage be one of them.

Thankfully, Victoria wasn’t to thrilled about an arranged marriage either. She also had a secret lover. When our parents would insist on dinners and nights out, I would let her go be with the man she loved, and take the time to explore museums or flirt with maidens in Inns. It was a good agreement we had. She could be with her love, and I had the freedom of the night to do what I pleased. Eventually, Victoria married her love, and I was happy that the threat of an arranged marriage was no longer over my head.

But with the arrangement cancelled, a new threat emerged: the rising tension between the Turned vampires. Why they had such animosity towards us, I could never figure out. We were pure-bloods, stronger and more powerful, it was a fact not an insult. I had no glaring issue with the Turned vampires before the Great Betrayal. But afterwards, my hate for them was the only force that rivalled my hatred towards Idris.

I can still remember when they stormed the castle. I was walking with my mother through the courtyard, under the corridor made of stone. The granite roof was just shielding us from the sunlight. It was such a clear day. The garden was so vibrant, the flowers were so fragrant. We were talking about literature.

And the corridor came crashing down around us, in thick plumes of stone dust and heavy chunks of granite. I had grabbed my mother’s hand, dashing with our vampire speed to a place of shade before the exposure could really take its toll. The skin on the back of my neck sizzled where the sun’s rays had brushed. My mother was less fortunate, with burns on her hands and face. I growled, drawing my sword as I regarded the attacker. It was a large boulder, now embedded in the soft topsoil, splashed with water where it had cracked a fountain. It was the type of boulder that would be used in a catapult.

As the thought crossed my mind, another boulder sailed from beyond the castle walls, and collided with a castle spire with a great crash. Figures charged the courtyard, screaming battle cries and wielding various weapons. I pulled my mother inside the castle walls, knowing I could not fight those numbers on my own. It was complete mayhem. Vampires running scared, Therian and Humans invading the castle, smashing windows and felling walls to let the deadly sunlight stream in. I lost my mother in the confusion, too busy slashing at enemies with my sword and steering clear of the encroaching sunlight.

I saw Idris amidst the uproar. We locked eyes briefly. I couldn’t read his expression, but he was gone in a second. I knew where he was headed. To the aid of the royal family, as was his job. That was the last time I saw him.

I fought my damnedest in the battle, wrapping shadow around me whenever the sunlight was too close to evade. The fate for the Blooded was looking grim with my own life teetering on the edge. And then, be a streak of fate or dumb luck, thick clouds swallowed the sun in a momentary break of darkness. I fled from the castle, knowing I’d never have a better chance at surviving than this. I hadn’t seen it, but I knew Lord and Lady Du Val were dead. I could feel it in my bones. And I knew that Idris was long gone.

I took refuge in the thickness of the dense forest, where the sun could not penetrate the leaves even at the height of noon on a clear day. I ran, not knowing if anyone was behind me. All I knew was that I was leaving everything behind except for the sword in my hands and the clothes on my back.

Eventually day fell to night and I stopped running. The forest was unnaturally quiet, like nature was mourning the dead along with me.

The years that followed that night became a blur of meaningless people, moving around, and trying to forget. I moved from country to country as the world developed around me - a knight here, a poet there. I learned to paint and play the piano. I would be forced to leave whenever my middle-aged demeanour was pushing the limits of how old I could pretend to be. I would fake my death (which wasn’t hard), crawl through my grave at night, and travel off to find a new life. I’d gone through so many names and identities, but I never forgot Kostadin - the name Idris gave me, and Du Val - the name my parents gave me.

I’ve been around the world thrice, in and out of every country. I am currently working in the United States as a model for several designer labels. I’ve worked up a bit of fame, which was always tricky to shake when the time came to disappear, but I always managed.

I’m content with my life currently, but lately, I’d gotten urges to go West. Not just an urge, a pull. A call. I couldn’t explain it, but the need was irresistible. Soon enough my sights were set on Evermore, Colorado. And I don’t know how I knew, but I knew.

Gideon Ashworth, the Vampire King, has returned.