Disclaimer: I don't own FMA.

AN: Hello all! I hope life is good :)

This is the first installment of another multi-chapter fic I've been working on, and it's my first foray into writing vampire stories. Just as a heads up, I'm using a few different terms throughout this chapter and those to come. Hēlans are vampires that can survive sunlight, draugur and shadow-walkers are vampires that can only venture out at night, and vetala is used occasionally to refer to vampires as a group.

Also, I may be using some place names from the FMA universe, but this is AU and does not include alchemy.

I hope you enjoy the first chapter!

AN2: (7/30/18) Updated with a few corrections - no changes to plot.

Prologue

Thin clouds slipped across the face of the moon, ethereal streaks against a midnight sky that offered little encouragement to the weary party below. Halting his mount on the crest of a hill, Roy Mustang watched the forest ahead with dark, apprehensive eyes, patting his mare's neck when the animal shifted skittishly. He murmured softly to the horse and the cool breeze lifted his black hair, causing a chill to skate down his spine and the leaves nearby to whisper. With another glance at the scenery, he moved to his father's side, who disapprovingly observed, "They're late."

The hairs on the back of his neck rose, a physiological response to the inexplicable, instinctual knowledge that he was being watched, and he shook his head. "They're already here." At those words the rumble of hooves became apparent from every direction and, while several horsemen slowed, he saw three break away to enter the trees moments later. A perimeter was formed and a hēlan approached them, his visage remarkably affable considering all the rumors Roy had heard of the vetala.

The newcomer held a hand out to Roy's father, his smile friendly and just barely crooked, black hair sticking up in a way that seemed oddly ebullient. "Lord Mustang, I'd guess...I'm Maes Hughes. A pleasure to meet you, my lord." His accent was mildly Drachman and, after the men shook hands, he added, "I do apologize for not immediately revealing our presence, but we needed to ensure you weren't followed."

"Of course...I understand." Richard gestured to his left and said, by way of introduction, "This is my son, Roy."

"Lord Hughes," he greeted while also shaking hands with the vampire, struck by the bright green of the other man's eyes, more intense than shoots of grass in spring. He had often heard that hēlans in particular often possessed more vibrantly colored eyes, and to see it first hand was slightly unnerving.

"Please, just Hughes, my lord." The man glanced at the treeline and then up at the moon, as if making some determination. "We've seen no evidence of patrols nearby, and the trail we'll take is one of the less-used. They shouldn't be watching it closely."

"Would it not be prudent," Lord Richard began, "to wait until sunrise to traverse the forest?"

"We certainly can if you prefer, my lord, however I recommend the night crossing for two reasons. First, the canopy is sufficiently dense that the draugur can move freely within the woods during the day. Second, if we leave as planned, we'll reach the other side after daybreak and can then use the sunlight as protection from any potential pursuit." He paused briefly, gauging their reactions. "However, it's ultimately your choice."

Roy's father caught his eye while considering those options, and then nodded. "You were hired to guide us for a reason, Hughes. We shall heed your advice."

"As you wish, my lord."

The three of them looked up when a horse exited the forest, traveling in their direction at a brisk but not especially hurried pace. The rider was tall, with a long face and hair that had gone completely white, though he looked to be barely more than thirty-five. He carried an axe in one hand, the shaft resting casually on a shoulder, and pulled on the reins with the other. "The first few miles of the trail are clear. We're still scouting, but it's safe to commence."

"Thank you, Miles." The white-haired man moved back toward the trees, waving for a few more members of the escort to join him, and Hughes turned to the remaining group. "Maintain the perimeter...Lord Mustang, please keep your men inside our ranks."

Several torches were passed around as they rode for the black forest ahead, and on impulse Roy drew his sword. It mattered not if he carried it all night, he wanted to be prepared. It was already irksome that they needed protection at all, and he refused to be caught unawares. He was a grown man, experienced in battle and exceptionally capable of defending himself, yet to pass safely through this stretch of woodland they were forced to hire as guards beings that could easily kill them. And he did not much like being at the mercy of strangers, let alone vampires.

His father gave him a questioning look, likely having noticed his son's brooding expression, and Roy urged his mount forward to ride at his side. With a shrug and a bit of a smirk, he quietly commented, "Nothing's the matter...I suddenly find I'm famished, and I hope our new friends are not."

"That'll be quite enough." Lord Richard kept his voice low and his response wry, unimpressed by his son's attempt at humor. "The men are nervous as it is."

They moved silently along the trail after that, nothing but the crunch of hooves, the creak of leather tack, and the occasional disquieting noise from the forest to accompany their progress. The foliage seemed to press in on them, as though the road itself were shrinking, and true to Hughes' word nothing was visible through the canopy, not even a sliver of moonlight reaching the ground. He chuckled at his own hyper-alert state, half-expecting a draugur to pounce on them at any moment wielding a machete, or another equally imposing weapon.

He abruptly found himself wondering at the green-eyed hēlan's age, at how many cities, towns, and even countries he had seen flourish and then fall out of existence, and he could not decide if he found that idea discouraging or awe-inspiring. It made him look forward to arriving home even more, where life was familiar. He could almost hear his mother bickering enthusiastically with his grandmother, engrossed in their nightly card game, while his sister was doubtless curled up by the fire with her nose in a book. He reached out to touch the saddlebag carrying the novel he'd found for her, reassuring himself that it was still there, and a smile grew on his face. He and his father had been away for more than two months visiting allies, and he yearned to be back where he could resume teaching Sofia chess. Or threaten her suitors, if necessary.

The group continued in that way for two hours, keeping a swift but quiet pace, with one member or another of their convoy periodically appearing from or vanishing into the surrounding darkness. To his great surprise, the silence remained unbroken and, sharing a look with his father, he gave the signal to pause for a rest. Their protectors may not need the break but the humans could use it, having already traveled almost four straight hours prior to entering the forest.

Once stopped they went about eating, drinking, and feeding their mounts as the vampires moved around them, some caring for animals while others went to stand watch or relieve scouts. Not long after they stopped he saw the same man from earlier, Miles, materialize from the road ahead followed by an imposing blonde with a sword at her hip, and the pair conferred with Hughes.

Roy strolled toward his father, who stood near the edge of the trail, peering into the vegetation. "Have you lost something?"

Richard chuckled, heaving a somewhat tired sigh, his own shock of dark hair in an uncommon state of disarray. "I'm simply keeping a weather eye out." He shot a quick glance around them and lowered his voice. "What do you think?"

He shrugged a shoulder. "While I don't relish relying on others, I do feel that we have an improved chance of returning home alive."

"As do I….though we must soon find additional methods for defending ourselves. The shadow-walkers roam ever closer to Glenwycke."

He hesitated, and then suggested, "Why not hire hēlans to reside in the castle and fight alongside us?"

"I fear that would make many uneasy," Lord Richard responded, one corner of his mouth furrowed.

At his father's words he scanned the small group of human soldiers, all of whom were warily watching the vampires in their midst. It would doubtless be difficult to live with such creatures, aware that at any moment they might drain your body dry with ease. However he reasoned that, in truth, any member of the household could try to kill them, be they soldier or scullery maid, though the draining of blood was less probable. He gave a little nod of understanding and replied, "True, but we may have few other options."

Lord Mustang was about to speak when the unmistakable sound of a horse at a gallop came from the gaping maw of the trail. Nearly every head whipped around, humans with a nervous curiosity and vampires with a hint of concern on their features, and Roy paced in that direction, watching the path as the hooves grew closer. Another woman came into view and dismounted nimbly, tossing the reins to a soldier as she strode toward the travelers.

She started to converse rapidly with Hughes and the two members of the forward guard, and he thought the language sounded vaguely Cretan, an old dialect he was unable to understand. She was blonde as well, but of a more golden tone than the other woman, and she carried no weapon, though a sword was strapped to her horse. What struck him most, however, were her eyes when they momentarily found his: dark chocolate irises encircled by deep red rings the color of garnet, or blood. Her gaze was haunting, intimidating, and he realized he was looking at the true commander of their escort.

When she walked away, followed by Miles and the other female hēlan, Hughes turned to them and said, urgency in his tone, "We must leave. Draugur are rapidly approaching the trail. Most are on foot...if we move quickly we can easily outstrip them."

Roy gave the signal and his men rushed to the horses, the fear more visible on their faces then it had been previously. The vampires followed suit soon after and they rode north at a much greater clip, which made him question if the draugur were closer than they'd been led to believe. He drew his sword again, keeping an observant eye on the treeline as they galloped ahead, gripping the hilt all the more tightly when they sped past a dead body. The clang of blades could be heard from the trees, shrieks of the injured rising in the darkness while the sounds of battle grew louder, and one of the vampire soldiers grunted when an arrow grazed his arm.

At a gesture from Hughes a few members of their escort disappeared into the foliage, and he said something in the same unfamiliar Cretan dialect before looking at the Lords Mustang. "We continue...keep close."

With that the vetalan drew his own weapon and spurred his horse even harder, leading them away from their would-be attackers. Roy glanced behind but could make nothing out and, though the sounds of fighting faded with distance, he refused to fall victim to the false hope of silence. The threat still chased them, otherwise they would not be racing onward at a pace most horses could only manage for a short time. Despite that truth the animals showed no signs of flagging, which could only mean they sensed the danger.

The group traversed the remainder of the woodland road in record time, nearly halving what should have been at least another two hours of controlled but quick riding. They practically flew from the trees, suddenly finding themselves in a flowering meadow as the first streaks of dawn crawled across the eastern sky. Roy spun his mount around to watch the trail they'd just left, weapon raised, his jaw setting when he saw the line of horsemen barreling toward them. "On foot, I believe it was."

"I said mostly," Hughes replied, then shouting orders at his men, who formed up in front of the humans.

He smirked at the hēlan's response, directing his own men to form a line behind the vampires. His father joined him with a nod, sword already to hand, kissing the gold chain around his neck in his usual pre-battle ritual. For Roy nearly all sound fell away, save the blood pounding in his veins, the rumble of hooves, and the clank of armor. He spurred his mare forward, gaze coming to rest on a draugur riding directly for him, his mind finding that focused calm he reserved for battle. He moved as if to slash downward and then leaned back at the last moment, watching his enemy's broadsword glide above his face while his own weapon sliced open the vampire's abdomen. He straightened in the saddle just in time to pull up on the reins to avoid a collision, tilting his head to dodge a sword thrust while embedding his blade in a shadow-walker's side.

He gave the weapon a final twist and yanked it free but was then forcibly dragged from his seat and thrown several yards, rolling to a stop near the edge of the forest. As an extremely tall, almost mountainous draugur prowled in his direction, Roy heaved himself to his feet, scrambling to draw a dagger since he'd lost the sword during his unexpected flight. The vampire swung at him and he blocked it with his forearm, the force of the attack making his bones ache. He stabbed at the enemy's chest but his hand was swatted away like a fly, and then the man landed a fist to his stomach, shoving him backward to smack into a tree.

He struggled to rise, coughing fitfully, the breath having been knocked from his lungs, and the shadow-walker laughed cruelly. "You're brave, human. Stupid, yes, but brave." His hair was black and long, his pallor the sickly-pale of one who had never walked beneath the sun, and a complex collection of bright red tattoos ran up his arm and over his shoulder.

The tower of a man reached for him, but his head was suddenly jerked backward, the tip of a blade protruding from his chest and, as he fell, Hughes came into view. "Are you alright, my lord?"

He nodded, one hand massaging his sore and likely bruised abdomen. "Thank you."

"My pleasure," the green-eyed hēlan responded, pulling him to his feet. "That was Vinter...one of the worst."

"Wonderful," Roy muttered wryly as they parted ways, feeling a bit irritated at the beating he'd taken. He found his horse grazing and took possession of her reins, noticing how bright the sky had become, which meant they were out of danger. At least for the time being. More hēlans trickled out of the woods in twos and threes, and he was stunned to discover that neither group had lost even a single man. He was undeniably impressed.

Extricating his sword from the tall grasses, he strolled to meet his father, who gruffly asked, "You hurt?"

"Nothing serious. And yourself?"

"The fiend nicked my arm." Richard climbed into the saddle and held up the arm in question, which boasted a gash that stretched from wrist to elbow. "It can wait until we're home."

"If you say so."

As the sun rose further they continued their journey to the stronghold of Glenwyke, home of the Mustang family for nine generations. The group rested only when necessary, managing to reach their destination around midday, and Roy breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of their banner flying up ahead. Slowing to a more reasonable pace, he passed through the gates and jumped to the ground to meet his sister. She raced to embrace him and, with a grin, he lifted and spun her, the young lady's laughter filling the air.

She pushed black tendrils from her eyes when he set her down and declared, "You've been gone far too long, brother, and I hereby decree that you're no longer permitted to leave the castle."

He chuckled and gave her an exaggerated bow. "As you command, my lady." Reaching into one of the saddlebags, he added, "I've a present for you, Sofia." He feigned hesitation. "But perhaps that should wait until I've said hello to mother as well. Yes, that's probably best..."

She smirked and took the book from the bag herself. "You found it!"

"Naturally. It was in the library at one of the strongholds we visited."

"You didn't steal it..."

"Of course not, Sofia. Although I did have to work in a blacksmith's forge for three days as payment."

She hugged him again, smiling in excitement. "Thank you, liar." Sofia then broke away and headed back to the keep, already reading the first page. "Come...mother has food and tea set out."

"I'll be right there." Turning, he searched for his father and saw him speaking with one of the vampires of their escort. Before he could approach, however, he caught sight of Hughes and reached out to shake his hand. "Thank you again."

"You're very welcome, my lord," the man replied, inclining his head slightly. "It's been an honor."

"Perhaps we'll work together again. A delegation is coming in a few months that'll need protection."

"I look forward to it."

"As do I, Hughes. Good luck to you." The hēlan walked away and Roy once again looked for his father in the crowd, but the man had disappeared, likely already inside. Unwilling to wait any longer, he strolled into the keep to greet the rest of his family, incomparably happy to be home.

Three Hours Later

Riza Hawkeye's fury knew few bounds as she strode through the halls of Glenwyke, the air thick with smoke and the scent of blood. The former was merely a nuisance, while the latter made her both ravenous and inimitably irate. Ominous scarlet stains adorned the walls and tapestries, the candles still in their sconces flickered, and once elegant carpets had been transformed into soiled tatters. Servants lay dead in the passageways, tossed haphazardly to the floor, and her left hand formed a fist when she found the exsanguinated child at the foot of a staircase. Her jaw clenched at the expression of terror on that innocent face, and she gestured tersely for Hughes and the other men to split up and search the keep.

Continuing to what was likely the dining hall, she threw open the great doors to find each member of the Mustang family lying bloodied on the floor. The grandmother retained no hint of life, Lady Mustang's eyes were already fixed in a glassy stare, and a pink-hued foam spewed from the father's mouth. To Riza's left one of her missing men whirled to face her, his gaze widening in fear as he distractedly lowered the wrist from his lips, a deep red pool spreading around his knees from the wounds on a young woman's neck. Not giving him the opportunity to react further, she stepped forward and grasped his neck, snapping it with a flick of her wrist and tossing him effortlessly across the room.

Another soldier approached and she dodged the sword he thrust at her heart, gripping his forearm and breaking the appendage with a deft twist. Simultaneously sweeping his feet from under him and catching his weapon, she twirled the blade around to spear him with it, helping him land on the stone floor with a satisfying smack. Footfalls came from behind and she spun to knock away a knife, wrapping an arm around the attacker's neck and using it as a fulcrum to swing around his back. She landed on her feet, forcing him to bend at the waist, and broke his neck in the crook of her arm.

"Did you think I wouldn't notice your absence?" she asked, pacing toward Piotr, another member of her coven, who rose apprehensively to his feet beside Lord Mustang's son. "You should've had the presence of mind to attack while I was already engaged."

When he opened his mouth to respond she hit him squarely in the chest, sending him flying at the wall, his head contacting the stone mantle of the fireplace with a loud crack that she rather enjoyed. Taking a sword that lay on the table, she threw the scabbard aside and rammed the steel through Piotr's heart, adding an enraged twist and taking exceptional pleasure in the way the light left his eyes. She turned to survey the carnage, exhaling heavily at the turn of events, and then unexpected movement caught her attention.

She quickly crouched next to the young Lord Mustang, who was attempting to roll onto his stomach, and admonished, "Lie still." Riza pulled his shirt collar to one side to examine the wound at his neck and, when he gripped her wrist, she met his eyes.

The human struggled to breathe, every inch of his body no doubt in excruciating pain as Piotr's venom crept through his veins like acid. With what was likely every ounce of the little strength that remained him, he croaked, "My sister...please."

She held his imploring gaze and, after a moment, gave him a small nod. Taking a chalice from the table, she dumped the wine into the fire and moved to kneel beside the young woman, checking her eyes, the bites, and her pulse. The blood flow from her injuries had stopped altogether, and any tremors usually caused by a vampire's venom were gone as well. Her prognosis was discouraging at best.

In spite of all that, Riza sliced open her palm and let blood drip into the girl's open mouth, watching for any change. She analyzed the various injuries for a second time, and unfortunately found not even the barest trace of healing, and his sister's eyes still failed to react to the light in the room. Shaking her head, she slid her eyelids closed and returned to the gentleman's side. "I cannot save her….but it's not too late for you."

A series of emotions crossed his face, ranging from fear and rage to hopelessness, the choice before him unimaginable: to face an eternity without his loved ones, or to die. His gaze moved from his sister to his parents, his grandmother, and he blinked away the gloss of tears. His respirations grew shallow and frequent and, wincing, he rasped, "Help."

In response she held her hand over the pewter goblet and gripped the blade of the knife, letting blood trickle downward until the vessel was half-full. She set the weapon aside, the small laceration gradually closing to form an angry red line, and she helped him into a seated position against the wall. When she brought the cup to his lips he balked, and she placed two fingers at his chin to make him look at her. "This is your only chance."

He nodded painfully and she helped him drink, pulling it briefly away to provide him with a break when he gagged. The young man relaxed almost instantly, and she guessed that meant the burning sensation pervading his body had dissipated. He was already breathing more easily, and his eyelids drooped as he leaned his head against the wall with a relieved sigh.

Upon hearing footsteps echo along the hall outside the room, Riza turned to see Miles standing in the doorway. His gaze took in his one-time comrades, but he refrained from commenting, and instead announced, "Hughes has something for you."

Facing the human once again, she said, "Lord Mustang." His eyes opened languidly, and she stood, picking up her dagger. "I'll be back. Be sure to keep still."

His eyes drifted shut once more and she joined Miles, raking golden-blonde hair from her face. They passed quickly through several corridors and out into the yard, her chest tensing at the growing collection of corpses laid there. Men, women, and children slaughtered for sport, with the Mustang family saved for last, to sate their infernal hunger. An intense guilt rippled through her gut.

"They killed nearly everyone, save the few that managed to run away," Hughes informed them. "Olivier already left to collect them."

"We'll accompany the survivors to the nearest village." Riza continued her examination of the victims, committing the many faces to memory and silently vowing to never again allow such a tragedy to occur. Voice low, she ordered, "Burn the bodies."

The blaze was lit behind them as they turned to face the castle, and Hughes said, "I asked to see you because the fifth culprit escaped, and I'd like to go after him."

"Hunt him down," she assented, adding as he made to leave, "And Maes...I want his head on a fucking pike."

"With pleasure, Hawk." He gave her a satisfied grin, as if that were the directive he'd been hoping for, and broke away shouting orders.

She moved her attention to the man at her left. "Miles...have a wagon prepared for Lord Mustang's son. He'll need to come with us so we may monitor his condition."

"Of course."

Alone she entered the gloomy, near lifeless keep and made her way to the dining hall, the places where bodies had lain marked by blood stains and viscera. What had seemed a cheerful home that same afternoon had become a tomb; dim, silent, and somber. "Lord Mustang..." she began as she stepped into the space, trailing off when she realized the young man was no longer there. Perplexed, she hurriedly investigated the closest rooms and sent several soldiers to look for him. They searched the stronghold and grounds, as well as the lands immediately surrounding the defensive walls, but the gentleman was nowhere to be found.

AN: Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed the chapter, and have a great day :)