Thanks to Daviana for encouraging me to write and publish this!

I do not own Yugioh or any other copyright protected material in this ff, it is for fan reading only and is not being used to earn money. Please support the official releases!

I would also like to warn that there will be gory content in this story, so if you are under age, please stay away. Any rather explicit content will be marked in further chapters.

'Thoughts'

"Speech"

Chapter 1 – bloody silver

It was a cold fall night, in the desolate forest. The plants were swaying in the crisp bursts of stormy winds that had accompanied the downpours earlier in the day, but had yet to leave.

The ground was soaked in rain, which finally washed the earth clean of the pools of blood that had been left behind after the last battle.

If one looked closely, one could still see the gaping wounds in the earth and almost smell the carnage.

The corpses of those who had fallen were already long forgotten and each side again was thirsting for the pained screams of the other.

The last had fallen but a few months ago, but war knows no reprieve or mercy. The next battle was coming, the only uncertainty was when.

Exactly this troubling thought had drawn out Yami from his castle in the early hours of sunset. His enemy could strike at any time and had been far too quiet as of late.

Normally a battle would happen every two to three months but now there had been silence for almost half a year. And if there was one thing he feared more during a war then assassins, it was silence.

Silence meant a lack of information and a lack of information almost certainly spelled death.

Yami was roaming the fringes of his land, searching for any signs of trouble or an oncoming assault.

The wind whipped through his hair and crimson cloak, as he glided through the dense trees. The water droplets from the fading leaves were clinging to his finely sculpted face as he ran.

Dead leaves were scattered on the tainted soil, as if they were trying to cover the harsh truth of what had once taken place here.

He did not know why, but he had to be here. He just knew that tonight, something was wrong, very wrong.

The wind was howling it's warning to all that would listen to stay inside, yet even with the harsh wind and the angry downpour, it was just too quiet. It unsettled him greatly.

Even in this weather there was always a sound, some form of life showing that it was still there, weathering the storm. Birds would shudder, animals would move in their dens and the sound of branches and twigs swaying in the wind would normally be there, however faint. During these dark hours however there were sounds and all, but every animal in the otherwise densely populated forest seemed to have died of despair. Not a sound could be heard from them and if Yami knew one thing, then it was to trust his instincts, and right now, they were screaming.

The last time he had felt this way the wolves had struck down three bordering villages, leaving behind nothing but dust and decay and his almost mortally wounded best friend, Joey.

The image of his near lifeless body, caught under a flaming beam, while the fires all around him had already burned out, leaving only, what they had thought at the time, his corpse illuminated by the eerie glow, was still burned into his mind.

Although he was a vampire like him, some of the scars of that battle would never fade…

His steps were silent in the harsh night, while his hair swayed with the now dying rain that had drenched him and his clothing.

The dark crimson cape he had worn to show his rank was clinging tightly to his leather clad body. His silver sword strapped tightly to his waist seemed to be bathed in blood, with the way the tiny droplets of water were slowly running down its gilded sheath.

The blade had been his saving glory during many an assassination attempt and had been the last present given to him by his father.

He remembered it to well. The way the holy dragon had shone in the moonlight when he had first laid his eyes on the curved blade. How he marveled at the way the dragons body had been etched into the blade, only for its neck and head to form the hilt. The claws stretched to its sides to form the cross guard.

His father had given it to him during the blood moon celebration, only to be murdered by a wolfen harem-girl that very night.

However as these dark thoughts clouded his awareness he wondered on into the dense forest, not noticing he had crossed into a most dangerous and forbidden place…werewolf territory.

The grievance this painstaking memory always caused him was still fresh and still tended to consume him. They say time would help him get over his pain, but time was always promising things it could not keep.

His mind swirled around how he had found his father, the hunt for the girl, the trial, but most of all the blood. The way it had painted the walls in speckled hews of red and burgundy, the droplets that clung to his fathers' pained face and the smell. He could still smell it in the air.

He took a deep breath, trying to rid himself of a smell that was meant to be oh so sweet to his kind, but now only seemed to cause him grief, only to notice that it didn't help, it only became worse and this time he wasn't imagining the scent of blood either.

The scent of fresh blood coated his senses and enthralled his hunger, telling him to find the source and make its warm essence his for eternity. His eyelids fluttered and his body shivered at the mere though in almost pure ecstasy. It had been a long time since he had had allowed himself a meal directly from a source.

Before he could think closer on the topic his body had already taken a step towards the temptation. His mind was set on hunting down whatever was causing that scent to waft through the crisp night air.

His eyes quickly tried to search for the quickest way to his tantalizing pray, when he suddenly noticed his surroundings…

He had trespassed on the land of the very enemy he was at war with; he was on…werewolf territory.

Realizing the danger he was suddenly in, his senses were on high alert. The smell of blood now held something foreboding, threatening even.

He didn't know what awaited him up ahead, but he knew he had to know where that smell came from. Had one of his kind been dragged into their territory and been slaughtered? Was this an act of war?

As far as he could tell the blood wasn't from a werewolf, so that only left a few other species and considering their conflict with them, it would likely be one of his kind; possibly dying.

Yami slowly crept towards the tantalizing scent, careful to not make a sound. He slowly parted the foliage in front of him with one of his pale hands only for the sight before him to freeze his very core in shock.

Red liquid was mixing with the small puddles of water and mud on the forest floor. He couldn't see the source clearly, but under a thick, raspberry thorn bush a single cord of the victims intestines peek out into view.

Yami swallowed down the thick bill that rose in his throat. He had seen more than enough mutilated corpses and the hideous actions of war, but it still stung him every time.

No matter how much he saw of the deepest most despicable depths of the creatures on this earth, it as of yet always managed to harm the small part of him that still held naïve beliefs of a better world.

It was not good for him as a leader to be affected in such a way, but he feared the day that his heart and mind were so dead to the world that they no longer would…

Struggling to control the slight shaking in his hand he carefully brushed aside the thorny branches. The red substance from the poor heap of flesh was sticking to the thorny branches and painting Yamis hands with the victims' blood.

He was supposed to feel hatred, loathing and an endless need for revenge at the sight before him, but it was just so pitiful, that even the most wrathful part of his being couldn't bring itself to feel that way.

Before him lay a young wolf with the palest silver fur he had ever seen. The wolf looked as if it had been painted and colored by the snowflakes themselves. The blood tainting the pristine fur only added to the grotesque beauty of the gutted youth.

Yamis heart felt like it was being ripped apart at the tragedy before him. How had someone brought it upon themselves to murder such an innocent looking being? Had it been one of his own kind? Had his own kind grown tired of him and decided to kill him on a whim?

It was no secret that the fights among the packs often ended bloody and that they often killed the offspring of those they saw as threats, so they would not later on seek revenge.

Their king had banned such behavior, but his own people knew all too well that he was too busy with the war to enforce any of his laws.

Rumors had it even that he had such fights among his own advisors and could not stop them.

The lack of a vampires' scent and the claw marks, on the body of the pure being before him, seemed to prove his thoughts. Those beasts…had simply slain their own.

Yami slowly inched his fingers towards the shimmering fur. As he felt the pelt of the youth his eyes went wide at the silky soft feel of the fine hairs. He had never encountered a wolf with soft fur. All the other wolves he had fought had nothing close to the young ones fur. Their pelts had always held a slight form of coarseness, but these hairs were softer than the most expensive silks that were available.

He let his hands glide through the silvery hairs, only to throw himself backwards at what he felt under the fine strands.

He….He was alive!

'How can this be?! He's practically bled out and his stomach is clawed open diagonally from one side to the other! I have to be imagining things!' Yami thought to himself.

He went to the motionless figure and checked for any form of life that could still be left within. Upon moving his hand over the young ones heart he sighed as he felt nothing but a familiar cold, that was only reserved for the dead.

Yami had already convinced himself that his earlier impression had been a manifestation of wishful thinking, but just as he was about to turn away…he felt it.

A heart beat, feeble and irregular, but it was there.

The gentle face of the young one slowly twitched and moved to reveal stunning icy violet eyes. The pain in them was evident. Yami knew that he wouldn't make it. No werewolf could survive such an injury. If left alone he would suffer for who knew how long. And if things came worse he would feel how other predators fed on him. It was only a matter of time before the scent of blood drew others near. Now that the rain had stopped the smell would spread.

There was only one thing Yami could do, and he hated it. He had always refrained from killing children and young ones, but right now it was the kindest thing he could do.

"I'm sorry…" he whispered as he softly petted its' head one last time. Those pale eyes gazed up at him in resignation, giving in to the inevitable.

Knowing that there would be no alternative to ending things in blood, he raised his sword, determined to put the young one out of its misery.

The silvery wolf looked at the blade in slight shock, before closing its eyes, awaiting its end.

The sword was raised in his hand as he looked at the feeble creature before him. The image of those eyes as they had given up their last hope flashed before his eyes, the pain filled look the young one had given him haunted him as his hands began to loosen on the hilt, but he had to do this.

His hands tightened on the hilt; the deadly blade poised over the young ones throat. Gathering his will power, Yami thrust the point of the blade downwards at the wolf, to end its suffering forever…

Hi everyone! This is my first try at a Yugioh FF. I wasn't really sure about if I should post this or not, but in the end I decided to. I will be trying to post at least once every month, since I know how frustrating it can be to wait for months on end for the next chapter.

If you liked it please review, since it tells me what you liked and helps me work on my writing skills.

Hope to see you next chapter!

-LGK