Chapter One

The Lonely Wizard

When he was born, Arthur Kirkland was gifted with a power that most children these days seldom imagined. He was no good with sports like his older brothers, nor was he talented in fashion and style or art as his classmates. But the more he toggled with his power, the less important his inabilities seemed. Yes, this gift was special to him, and him only.

Arthur was born a clairvoyant.

An extraordinary one at that.

As a child, he noticed things other children didn't. Little people with wings would flutter in and out of his family's garden. On hunting trips with his brothers, he'd see a wandering spirit or two, sometimes dressed in 19th century attire. Even within school, small, hairy creatures introduced themselves to him as imps, then sprinted away to switch and hide the other children's toys.

However, as he got older and more aware of what his supposed gift was, he would let himself believe it was more of a curse.

On the playgrounds, he would get teased for still having imaginary friends. Entering teenagehood, Arthur chose to keep silent about the gremlins and other wary creatures he'd see, but he never grew out of talking loudly with excitement to his fairy friends. This earned him very curious or nosy crowds to come, followed by annoyed looks.

By the time he began his second year of high school, what started out as purely curiosity and child's wonderment turned into an obsession with the occult and dark arts.

He was not limited to just seeing ghosts like most clairvoyants afterall. His world was filled with more than that! Oddly colored winged-rabbits would greet him cheerfully— at times, little men in green with pockets filled to the brim with gold. He would catch glimpses and even got the chance to let his hand graze upon the mane of a unicorn!

So it wouldn't come off as a surprise that because Arthur Kirkland, clairvoyant extraordinaire, could see and hear and touch these mystical creatures, that he himself would be able to produce and weave magic as well, would it?

Almost as immediately as he thought that, he began reading feverishly through mounds and mounds of books on runes, spells, charms, and whatever he could find that would make him a great wizard. He secluded himself in papers and yellowing books in his room.

Magical talent naturally came to him. Quickly, he learned how to produce light in his hands out of nothing but a low chant under his breath. In a matter of weeks, he could bring forth his Complete History of Mermaids and Mermen book from across the room into his hand with a whisper of tangled words.

But with all this success and new found skill, he had no one to share it with. His brothers would only see this as some sort of cry for attention or think he'd finally gone completely mental. Surely, his classmates would think the same and jeer at him endlessly. He couldn't even consider telling his only friends, Toris and Kiku. They were nice boys who were open-minded to how their friend would be when involved with the supernatural. Nonetheless, Arthur knew that telling them about all the dark stuff he was getting into would only draw the line between himself and normal human beings forever.

Despite knowing that his interest in sorcery best be kept a secret, that only made him feel lonelier than ever. Seeing pixies and gnomes just weren't enough anymore- he wanted something more, something darker. His lonely, cynical feelings and crave for knowledge in deeper magic produced a desire for something that would satisfy those emotions. The most dangerous supernatural being he'd encountered was just a loony ghost— or "awesome poltergeist", as he self-proclaimed— that occasionally played over-the-top pranks on the student body like (unintentionally) causing one of the campus buildings ablaze and locking Arthur's classmate, Roderich, in the school grounds on the weekend. That was nothing close to what he wanted.

Fervently, Arthur looked through all of his books, trying to locate the most dastardly fascinating creature he could find. He wanted something that would quench his thirst for the occult. Then, he would summon it. It had been six months since he first started practicing magic after all. He only ever showed signs of improvement— a reassurance that nothing could go wrong.

Caught in his excitement, he recklessly chose the most captivating being in his eyes that he would call for. The vampire.

It had the deceiving appearance of a human, yet as a demon, it maintained several horrific attributes according to his books: "...relies on the blood of the living to survive...", "...abnormally-colored complexion... purple... a sickly yellow...", "a creature of the night— under the sun it will meet death,", "Born with animal-like fangs for its insatiable thirst for human blood...", "...uses its piercing, alluring eyes on humans... turns a bright gold when hungry." It was perfect. None of the books describes a vampire's personality though. Most of them only told warning signs of a vampire and the different methods of killing them. But from what Arthur had read, he supposed a vampire wouldn't be as dimwitted as a troll or gremlin, neither was it limited to just fun-loving and giggling like his fairy friends. So he assumed they'd be brooding, mysterious creatures.

But assumptions and vague books weren't enough— he was going to summon this being.

With already an apparently normal piece of chalk in his right hand, he knelt down on both of his knees and drew several large circles, one inside the other. Between them, he copied the runes that were pictured in an open book he was holding in his other hand.

When the magic circle was completed, Arthur stood up straight outside of it, smirking pleasantly, and energetically mouthed what the summoning chant in a different book told him to do to complete the procedure.

At the last words in his reading, he shouted— believing his magicking was a success.

The circles glowed a great, bright purple before simmering down to a low light, then to the simple chalk drawings they were in the beginning.

He waited a few seconds.

Thirty seconds.

Two minutes.

Ten minutes.

His smirk from earlier had disappeared entirely, it was replaced with a deep frown and his eyebrows furrowed in anger and frustration. It had been a long while since he had been so excited and he'd never failed a spell before.

He exhaustively drudged his feet to his bed, dropping his book carelessly on his floor along the way. With his eyes already closed, Arthur let his back hit the bed. He opened his eyes once more though to take out his pocket watch to check the time. It read ten past three, meaning he'd been working on throughout the early morning.

Disappointed and tired, he blew out the candle at his bedside and let himself fall asleep all the while wondering what went wrong.

o o o

A loud, crash and yelp awoke Arthur a few hours later.

"Ouch..." a voice that was not his muttered.

He sat up urgently. That sounded nothing like any of his brothers' voices, who never went into Arthur's room in the first place. The little window near the ceiling was the only other source of light in his room besides his already light-empty candle, and it was still much too dark outside for there to be any sunlight to even let in.

Promptly recalling the first magical spell he learned, he did a quick chant and immediately what looked like a ball of pale flames perched itself just above his left palm.

He swished his hand left then right, trying to find the intruder. Slowly, he swung his legs off his bed and walked forward to further search his room, relying on his hearing as well, listening intently for a footstep or another stumble.

"Wow! How did you do that!"

Arthur shrieked and whipped his body to the left, where a young man with unusually bright sapphire eyes stood before him. The man's hands were fisted in front of him in what appeared to be out of excitement and he wore a wide grin on his almost childlike face.

"Well!" he repeated stepping forward.

Still confused, Arthur took a step back and felt his foot hit one of his many stacks of books. He eased his empty right hand onto the top of it and threw a very large book in front of him. "How the bloody hell did you get into my house— my room!" he demanded.

The man kept his hands in front of him, but this time to try and block the objects he was getting pelted with. "W- Wait! What are you doing! Stop it!" he responded while getting hit with another book. "Is this how you treat your guest!"

"My guest?" Arthur let the book he was about to throw ease at his side. "You must be some sort of burglar or lunatic!" Forgetting his earlier puzzlement, he continued to fling his belongings.

"No, I'm not! I swear! Geez... You're the one that called me, right?." He dropped his defensive posture and replaced it with crossed arms and a pout like a child's. "You know, I thought summoners were supposed to be smart."

Arthur was taken aback for a moment, then finally put the pieces in place. "You..." he said weakly. "You're a..." He was more than hesitant to repeat the last word. "...Vampire?"

Said vampire let his grin back on his face again and flashed one of his thumbs proudly at himself. "Yup! Alfred. F. Jones, full-fledged vampire, at your service!"

Author's Notes:

Despite always having ideas and prompts pop into my head endlessly, this is only the second time I've written fanfiction. The first time being years ago before I even entered high school. So after a considerably long hiatus, I'm back with more than a few ideas of my own to share!