TW: Mentions of blood and gore

Word count: 828

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       It was the beginning of spring, 1264. Leon does not remember much from the first years of his life, but he had been told by his parents that it was quite warm the day he was born and that the sun had stood high up on the sky. He’d always wished he could have welcomed it, to bask in its delicate glow and to feel the warmth upon his skin, but alas, creatures of his kind rarely had the opportunity to delight in such pleasures, simple as they may be, shant they reap the consequences following. Instead the night became his friend and the moon his confidant, keeping his secrets safe as they traveled with the wind to reach the stars far away. 

The night was often cold though. Not in the sense of it leaving you shivering under your blanket wishing for a feistier flame to warm you. But in the sense of silence, of loneliness. 

 

Leon was the only surviving child of his village, you see. Natural reproduction of the vampire kind is not common. It brings too many dangers. Too many uncertainties. And if there’s one thing vampires do not like, it’s uncertainties. They’re far too used to ruling the earth they tread on to risk worry entering their lives. However, coming from a clan of purebloods obsessed with just that — pure blood — natural reproduction was.. well, the natural choice. “Why would you choose to ruin something so exquisite by adding human filth into the mix?” Leon’s father always used to say. Should the man have known how many lives he’d inadvertently save simply by avoiding turning a human, he would most likely have rethought that statement out of pure pettiness.

 

Contrary to his father and many other of the village folk though, Leon had never quite understood the distaste for humankind. To him they were alike — souls forged from the same flame. Not counting the insatiable hunger for blood and prolonged lifespan, of course.

 

Though perhaps it was simply the cold of night that drew his curiosity towards them. 

 

       For years Leon visited the same cliff that overlooked his village. This was the best view for a young man his age, he thought. Not only did it give him a front row seat to observe the vastness of space above, allowing him to befriend the distant orbs in the sky, but it also allowed him to gaze down upon the flickering flames shimmering in the distance. Those were the stars he could reach, but they weren't quite what he wanted. 

To someone who had eternity ahead of him, the confines of a simple farm seemed far too restrictive — and the older he grew, the more his ambition grew with him. One day he would leave this place, he whispered to the moon above. One day he would leave and achieve great things.

 

Seasons passed and Leon grew steadily.

 

Finally, in late 1310, Leon left home. Not to pursue his dreams — for he had little idea what those dreams were — but instead to serve the throne, as all dutiful sons and proud citizens do. It may have started out as something against his will, a charade he had to uphold for his village to pass unnoticed amongst the settlers nearby, but he would soon come to realize that he had found the place where he belonged. Truly belonged. 

 

The battlefield.

 

The panicked screams of falling victims as they reached the very end of their fledgling lives. The rivers of red that gathered beneath their lifeless bodies. It all fueled him. Drove him a little bit more insane each time. But it always reminded him of what he really was.

 

A monster.

 

And so he embraced it.

 

That was when he began to rapidly rise in the ranks. He was looked upon as a living, breathing killing machine with no regard for the human consciousness. To Leon, the men pitted against him were nothing more than empty shells. Shells that would soon hit the ground like all the other. Just an obstacle he had to get out of the way. And of course, those in charge loved it. Who wouldn't want a guaranteed victory? Domination as easy as snapping your fingers. Like siccing a dog on a defenseless rabbit. Thus he inevitably became the right hand man of those very people. Of course, it didn't take long before some of them began figuring him out, however. They were aging while he wasn't. Strange, to say the least. But why would they care if he was on their side? As long as they could supply him with more bodies they were safe, after all.

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He became the secret that now traveled under the moonlight. An assassin of nobles. A shadow.

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In 1388, a coup was initiated and a king was overthrown. Joseon was born, and Leon was in the thick of it all. He made sure the blood was spilled to baptize the new land.