A/N: Sorry for this taking forever, but life got really busy right when I thought I would have some time for regular writing. This story will get completed, though. And I expect for that to happen this month. Thank you for being so patient.

Losing You Part I

"I won't leave unless I am turned. The wedding cannot be held off for much longer, so you need to make a choice. It will either be her or you," Talbot said during another one of their arguments.

Russell wouldn't answer. Instead, he turned to walk away.

"Where are you going?"

"I know it may be hard to believe in the safety of the palace, but there's a little war to fight since your nephew seems keen on taking the empire away from its current possessor. I have orders from your father to take my wolves and head out to the peninsula of Haemus. We've got some work to do there."

"I am coming with you," said Talbot testily.

"As you wish," replied Russell.

He was used to Talbot asserting himself into his father's military affairs lately. A few months prior, Talbot decided that his training had come to an end and it was time to see what he was made of. He demanded to join Russell's wolves on some of the mercenary missions they were sent out on.

Russell wasn't surprised. He figured the time would come when Talbot would want to prove himself, and he already had a plan in place to keep him safe. So far, it had been working.

He assigned his head wolf, Baldomar, to track Talbot and assist him if necessary. Talbot had selected a small group of wolves that would be at his command as they went into battle. Each time they went, Baldomar jumped into the fray and successfully protected Talbot, who would come back fuming at Russell. Russell would then glamor his beloved into forgetting that Baldomar was ever there, and each time he would apologize for doing this, knowing that Talbot would not remember. He would have glamored him into not desiring any action in battle at all, but he knew such a sudden and drastic change in Talbot would raise too many suspicions.

During the thick of the battle, Baldomar watched as Talbot prematurely gave orders to join in, breaking away from their strategic position to aid Russell and his larger group of men. They were to remain ready to join in if, and only if, Russell and his men looked like they were losing their advantage. Russell had been very clear about that as they reached the peninsula of Haemus, but Talbot couldn't wait. Baldomar eased into the fighting, defending himself as needed, to fight alongside Talbot. But before he could get there, he saw Talbot miscalculate his opponent, and there his foe had the only opening he needed.

The blade of the sword sliced through Talbot's side, taking him completely by surprise. Baldomar thought of leaving right then, but fearing Russell, he pursued the opponent and slew him. Immediately afterward, he left, shifting into a wolf and disappearing into the forest. Russell could sense Baldomar leaving, as he had taken his blood so Russell could track him, like all wolves under Russell's domain are required to do. Russell did not bother to pursue him for failing to defend Talbot. There was a more pressing concern to attend. He could sense Talbot slipping away.

Like a slow-motion daydream, Russell watched from across the battlefield as Talbot fell backwards, arms flailing outward, with blood spattering from his side. Without thinking, he quickly snapped the necks of the men he was fighting and was there, holding him, before Talbot's body could hit the ground. He ripped the skin on his wrist open with his teeth and tried using his blood to heal the wound, but Talbot had already lost too much blood. He looked into his eyes and could see that he was about to lose consciousness.

It would be the last time he would see the young man's human eyes staring back at him.

"Save me," Talbot said. The breathy whisper was barely audible. Something had to be done, and Russell no longer had a choice. He quickly rushed into the wooded area of the forest, carrying Talbot, and began the ritual of turning him into his progeny.

Without their leader, Russell's men retreated, and the territories they were sent to help protect fell into what would be the next Byzantine emperor's hands.

The next night, a cold hand sprang up from the soft earth, and an old life was shed for a new. Talbot dug himself out of the ground and looked at Russell, who came out of the grave behind him and stood there, looking him over.

His eyes had changed, and his skin was pale. He was different, Russell noted, but still the same. He smiled a weak smile at his new progeny.

"Well, this is what you wanted," he said with a sigh. "You have a lot to learn, but first you need to feed. Come with me."

They traveled back into what had been the thick of the battlefield. All the while Talbot noted his increased senses and how "alive" he felt. He had never experienced anything like it. He almost felt giddy. He was amazed at how fast his body was able to move and how clear everything was to him under the cover of the trees and an almost pitch-black sky. The moon was a tiny crescent, and as he looked up at it, he saw it in such detail that he stopped and gasped.

"You'll have plenty of time to look around later. Come."

Talbot felt himself being drawn to Russell in an odd way. It was like his body was acting without his consent; it just followed. How peculiar, he thought. He wanted to ask Russell about this, and he was about to, but then he smelled blood. They were close to where the battle had taken place, and he felt a deep, insatiable, hunger within him. He had never been so hungry in all of his life. Immediately, he was consumed with the need to feed as the smell became stronger.

They had traveled several miles, Talbot was sure of it, and he didn't feel tired at all. He felt as if he had spent no more effort than to have taken a leisurely stroll through the palace garden. As they reached the edge of the wooded area of the forest, Russell raised his hand to stop Talbot. They stood there and looked over the sea of bodies left behind. In certain areas, a few shallow graves had been dug, with bodies carelessly piled in, the earth just barely covering them.

"What is happening? Why haven't all of dead been buried? Why—"

"Shhh," said Russell as he looked. Some of the bodies still splayed across the field showed signs of having been partially eaten by wild animals. He closed his eyes and listened for movement, then opened them again to examine the edges of the battlefield once more.

"I think we're okay. There doesn't appear to be anyone of consequence left. We'll be free to take our fill and move on."

"They are all dead."

"No they aren't. Some are still alive, just too wounded for travel. I can still smell fresh blood."

Talbot looked around at the mass of bodies sparsely piled against each other. He saw blood, and insects, foul smells, limbs missing bodies, and bodies missing limbs. The look of slowly rotting corpses was quite repulsive, and if he could have, Talbot would have looked away, but the carnage was all around him.

"The answer to your question is that the winning side only bothers to bury their dead. You'll notice from the garments that these are all our men. They belonged to the empire," he said as he kicked a foot out of his way and continued sifting through the carnage with Talbot.

"Then why wouldn't we bury our own—"

Russell chuckled to himself. Talbot huffed. He knew an obvious answer was shortly coming from Russell. He put his hand on his hip and waited.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to laugh. I know you're still new to this, but I've seen this for so many years… Whatever soldiers for the empire there were that survived had no time to bury the dead. They were too busy trying to make sure that they left the field with their own lives."

"Then I will bury them, for their service," said Talbot.

"That's nice of you, but you'll want to feed first. You need your energy. You don't want to get the bleeds."

"The bleeds?"

"I'll tell you about it later. Just look around and find someone to feed on. I'm going to do the same."

Russell was quickly out of sight, leaving Talbot slightly abandoned. The new vampire looked around for a promising victim.

"Help, help me," he heard somewhere in the distance on his left. Immediately afterward, there was a small cry full of alarm as fangs punctured skin and a mouth drank. Talbot could hear it all as if he were an inch away. For a moment, he was mesmerized by this new ability, but then he was overtaken by the hunger. He closed his eyes and searched with his ears. He heard soft, rattled, breathing coming from not too far behind him and short, deep, sighs straight ahead. He turned around.

He approached a man a few years younger than himself. From just a few feet away, Talbot could sense the heat blazing from his dampened skin. The man noticed him, and his rattled breathing turned to a whimper. He held out his hand, hoping for help with sitting upright. There was a plea in his eyes, but he didn't speak. Talbot knew what to do, but going about doing it was different. Taking a life in battle was one thing, but this man was unarmed. He had fought on their side. And his eyes... Talbot felt what he had to do was akin to slaughtering a pet animal before consuming it, or worse, eating it alive. The act was something he had never done and thought he should never have to do, but the hunger...

Decidedly, he took a step. The next thing he saw was Russell at the man's body, having broken his neck.

"I was going to feed on him," Talbot said taken aback.

"It would have made you sick. Didn't you smell him?"

"Yes. He smells like he is dying."

"Exactly. That means don't drink. His blood is infected. Only feed on the diseased if you absolutely have too." Russell looked around and smelled. "There's still fresh blood here."

Talbot just stood there, not quite knowing what to do.

"Well, find it," said Russell. "You've got to learn to use your senses... Correctly. Don't worry. I'll be with you this time."

Talbot took Russell to the closest sound of breathing. They came upon the labored breaths Talbot had heard a bit earlier. This man was heavily bruised and one of his legs was bent at an odd angle.

"I woke up and it was dark. Everyone is gone or dead, except you," the man said with effort. It was obvious that he was in a tremendous amount of pain, the kind of pain that takes everything from you, even the will to cry out. There were no visible signs of injury aside from the bruising and the twisted leg.

"Must have been a stampede, probably when our side retreated," Russell said under his breath. He looked at Talbot. "Well, go on."

Talbot looked at the man lying there helplessly and in pain. He rationalized that he was ending the man's suffering, and so that made taking his life okay… even kind. His fangs protracted as he stepped closer to the man and the smell of fresh blood became stronger. That's when he saw fear flash across the man's face.

"What are you?" the man asked, with his voice trembling, as Talbot descended upon him and tasted the metallic sweetness of human blood for the first time.

A/N: Thanks for sticking with this story if you have. And of course, any feedback will be welcome. :)