I'm feeling: creative
Fandom: Downton Abbey
Characters: Lavinia, Mary
Summary: AU. In which Lavinia is a vampire and Mary smells really good.
Author's Notes: Written for this prompt at the dakinkmeme. I only meant to write the last part of this but the Downton vampires idea got away from me a little.
At first she thought they were the same.
She couldn’t be blamed, her skin was so white, and the way she held herself, like she owned the world, so like all the immortal dead. Then she leaned in and her smell was undeniably human and so warm, so delicious, so… intoxicating, that Lavinia nearly sank her teeth into Mary right then and there.
She loved Matthew with all her soul, because despite the myths she did still have one. Mary was another matter, bloodlust wasn’t love but it was no less powerful. The desire no less intense. Lavinia was old though and she could deny herself the temptation, no matter how sweet it promised to be. At least she hoped she could.
She had known there were bound to be others like her at Downton Abbey, even if Mary herself wasn’t. All the great houses usually had a few like her flittering around. And her suspicions were confirmed as soon as she stepped off the train.
The chauffeur reeked of the recently turned, he had probably only been killed a few years ago, and hadn’t even glanced at her, but he had to have smelt her the minute she stepped from the train.
Not that it mattered really, there were a few societies but by and large they all kept themselves to themselves. Lavinia liked it that way and it seemed the others in the house did as well.
She had only been acknowledged for what she was by the ladies maid, a curt nod and a quick warning glance at Lady Grantham that clearly conveyed the message she was taken. Not that Lavinia would have drunk from her future mother-in-law. That would have been terribly impolite.
The youngest sister came as a shock, she had to admit, especially as she was still maintaining the façade of her first life. She was but an infant really, no more than a few months dead. Then she had come in from a walk one day with the chauffeur’s scent all over her and things made a little more sense.
Lavinia herself preferred pure blood. And Matthew just so happened to have bought her to a house brimming with it.
The aristocracy might have become… murkier in the past few centuries since her turning but they still kept high standards and their bloodlines were still relatively unmuddied by common blood.
She didn’t feed at Downton of course. It would be a few years before she would turn Matthew and fake their deaths in a tragic accident- she had seen enough kingdoms fall not to care if she made one tiny title extinct- but drawing any attention to herself sooner would be unwise.
But Mary was driving her to distraction. She tried to keep it under control but though she fed regularly, when Mary was around she felt like a starving man with a hot meal wafting under her nose.
Sometimes she could barely swallow the human food laid out in front of her, so distracted by that smooth skin, imagining her teeth ripping through that neck. The wine tasted like manure next to what Mary’s scent promised her blood would taste of.
When Mary talked of cutting her hair it took all of her will to stay seated, idly trying to put her off by some comment about the unfeminine look rather than informing her bluntly that if any more of her neck was on display she couldn’t be trusted to contain herself.
She had begged off visiting Downton more times than she could count and the next time Matthew was on leave, still carrying the stench of so much death, she couldn’t deny him again.
The chauffeur nodded at her this time and Lavinia smirked at the fresh marks on his neck. The new ones were always so terribly unrestrained. It came as no surprise to see Mary’s undead sister wearing a slightly-out-of style but large necklace that night. Oh to be young again.
Except… she thought herself so above youthful passions. The memories of her first lovers flitted in and out of her mind. The pleasure of feeding while being fed from, the irresistible urge take whomever she pleased.
She had moved past that. She was several hundred years old. She could control herself.
Then Mary leaned in to kiss her cheek and Lavinia couldn’t have cared less about control.
That night she couldn’t resist any longer. Feeling like a foolish little fledgling desperate for the smallest drop of blood she snuck out of her room and down the hall. If it still beat her heart would have been pounding in anticipation. She maintained enough dignity not to sprint down the hall but she did set a brisk pace.
She could have found the room with her eyes closed, the scent was so overwhelming. Lavinia felt her mouth water as she stood outside the door, her teeth descending of their own accord.
There was no going back, even if she had wanted to. She ran her tongue over her sharpened canines, and like a shadow, slipped into the room.
Mary lay peacefully on her bed, her head slightly to one side, exposing the pale expanse of skin at her throat. Had Lavinia had less control Mary might have been dead right then.
But she hadn’t drunk anyone dry since she was a child, newly turned in the wake of the Glorious Revolution. She still regretted those deaths, but in the end she was a hunter and they were her prey. She wasn’t a murderer.
She sat down quietly on the edge of the bed and stroked Mary’s cheek softly. Her hands were like ice and pulled Mary from her sleep.
Lavinia climbed up so she was kneeling right beside her and placed a hand over her mouth. “Don’t scream,” she ordered her firmly, as Mary’s body shuddered in fear and her eyes darted around the room. “It’s only me.”
“Lavinia,” Mary breathed between her fingers, panic turning to confusion, “Why-“
“Shhhh,” Lavinia hissed, placing a hand on Mary’s stomach and running it up her chest. “Don’t worry, I only want a taste.”
“I don’t-“ Mary started before looking into her now red, glowing eyes. “I…” her words trailed off and Lavinia grinned, baring her teeth. “Don’t worry,” she repeated, her voice laced with calm and sleep, “you won’t remember this in the morning… I promise.”
Lavinia enjoyed toying with her food but as soon as Mary’s head fell back, revealing her perfectly smooth neck she couldn’t wait any longer. She swung her leg over Mary’s waist, leaned into her neck and bit. Hard.
She had thought she had lost control when she had made the decision to come to the room but the second her teeth tore through that alabaster skin and the blood filled her mouth Lavinia truly was gone beyond all reason.
It was better than she ever imagined, her blood was so pure, so exquisite. She felt like she had been in the desert for her entire life and Mary’s blood was the first water she had ever tasted.
Mary had gasped and cried out in pain at first but it wasn’t long before she was groaning and arching her back, pressing herself up into Lavinia, clutching at the other woman’s back.
Lavinia moaned at the sensation, oh god, she had only come for a sip but Mary was not making it easy to stop, and she tangled her hands in her dark hair, pressing her mouth harder into her neck, trying not to go too far but just a little more.
She tasted so good.
It took all her strength to rip her mouth away, gasping for air that she didn’t need as Mary’s blood dripped down her chin and onto her chest.
She was out by then, and she wouldn’t remember anything in the morning.
Lavinia sat up and ran a finger over the two small holes in the otherwise flawless skin. Tomorrow the others would see and know what she had done, she hoped her sister wouldn’t mind too much. They had already healed and though Lavinia still had blood on her mouth she wasn’t a messy eater, not a drop had fallen where it shouldn’t have.
Briefly she considered another bite but she was sated now and the urge was easier to resist.
“I might be back,” she commented idly to the sleeping form beneath her, touching the marks again and tracing the curve of her neck, the pulse beating invitingly just below the skin. “One day.”
After all, one day Matthew would be just like her and if he wanted Mary this much when he was alive, how much more irresistible would she become when he was dead?
It was a good thing Lavinia didn’t mind sharing.