Author Topic: Le Succube (Original Fiction)  (Read 3170 times)

AuroraExecution

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Le Succube (Original Fiction)
« on: December 10, 2007, 02:11:15 PM »
Ok.  Since my chatbox buddies are interested, I have decided to submit this.  Please give some feedback, if possible. Thanks! 

Le Succube

     It was late on a snowy February night when the knock sounded.  The young farmer was a bit apprehensive, but stood to open the door.  Outside stood a lovely young woman with long hair of silvery gold and blue-green eyes as clear as a lake in the sun. She wore a dress of night blue.  “Good evening, miss,” the young man said.   
     “Good evening,” she replied, “I am a traveler.  May I stay here for the night?  I don’t really have anything to pay you…” 
     “Come in.”  The farmer poured her a cup of tea from his kettle as she sat beside the fire and lessened her shivering.  They were both silent while she drank.  Odd, how the tea sent warmth through her body, warmth she had never felt before.  Finally, the young man began again.  “If you don’t mind my asking, miss, may I ask who you are?”
     She told him one of her usual lies, about her mother dying and how she was searching for her uncle but did not know where he lived.  When she finished her story, the young man asked her, “Would you like to stay here until the snow stops?  I don’t have much, but I can promise you something to eat and a warm fire.”  The girl bit her lip, hesitating, knowing she should refuse, yet wanting so much to stay.  In the end, she yielded. 
     “I accept.  Thank you.” 
     The girl stayed for two weeks at the farmer’s house.  They talked often, and she learned much about him.  He had golden-brown hair, and eyes as silver as the moon.  His parents had died some years ago, so he worked his farm alone.  He enjoyed reading and music, and played the harp.  She even learned the places he liked to go to relax.  But ultimately, she never learned his name. 
     Nor did she do what she came to do.  The thought of tricking him always stopped her from continuing with her plan.  She knew she should have left long ago.   If she could not complete her task here, she should have continued on until she found someone whom she did have the heart to trick.  But she did not want to leave the little house.  In a fortnight’s stay, she had learned to love the farm and its owner. 
     At the end of the two weeks, she came to him in the afternoon to bid him goodbye.  He was working in the yard and humming a soft tune.  His eyes saddened when she told him she was leaving, and her resolve began to fall away.  No, she told herself, you must leave now.  He did not beg her to stay.  Instead, she begged herself to stay.  As she approached the gate, he called to her.  “Miss?” 
     She turned back partway, knowing that if she turned the whole way and saw his face, she would never be able to force herself to leave again.  “If it’s not too bold of me, may I ask for a payment?” he asked.  His question surprised her. 
     “I do not have anything to give you, but you may ask,” she said.  He smiled calmly. 
     “Then I ask for a kiss.”  The girl gasped, her fear dominating her shock.  She shook her head vigorously, near tears. 
     “Anything but that,” she cried.  The man did not stop smiling.  “You need to know, sir.  I am a succube.”  So she had said it.  She had told him what had been haunting her during the two weeks she had stayed with him.  She was a succube, a creature of the night, who found handsome, gullible young men and drained their lifeblood with a single kiss.  She was neither human, nor demon, and definitely not angel.  She was nothing.  As a succube, her life was focused only around killing others to keep herself alive. 
     But the young man kept smiling.  “I know,” he said, “I knew the moment I opened the door.” 
      “Then why did you let me inside?” she demanded.  “Others who have the power to discern between humans and spirits usually keep themselves well away from the danger of succube.” 
     “Because I have never refused hospitality to anyone who comes to my door,” answered the young man, “and also because something told me it was the right thing to do.  I knew you would be powerless over me as long as I recognized what you were, so what was the harm?”  She laughed bitterly. 
     “Is that it?” she said, “Then I will leave now.” 
     “Couldn’t you stay?”  She turned, all the way this time, and stared the young man full in the face.  He was smiling gently.  “I…like having you around.”  She shook her head again. 
     “It is the life of a succube to wander and kill.  What would I do here on your farm?” 
     “Work,” he replied simply, “Live.”  The girl’s eyes lit up, and she held a brief hope in her heart that maybe, just maybe, she could stay and be happy.  But she knew it would not be like that, no matter how much she wanted it. 
     “I cannot.  What would everyone else say if they knew—?”
     “Then they will not know.  You will be a wanderer who ended up at my door.  It is more or less the truth, is it not?”  She nodded and looked up at his eyes.  Although her mind was screaming at her that this was folly, she smiled and her heart agreed to stay.  Setting down her luggage, she picked up the bucket that sat on the ground beside him. 
     “I’m going to get some water for the house, all right?” she said.  The young man nodded contentedly and returned to sweeping the yard. 
      So they continued to live that way, working and existing on the farm, and he told anyone who asked that they were husband and wife.  They quickly learned to get used to each other and their life together was enjoyable.  He even gave her a name. 
      It happened a few afternoons after she first agreed to stay.  He was playing his harp offhandedly and suddenly paused in his strumming to ask, “Do you have a name?”
     “Succube,” she answered sharply, “That is my name.  We are not distinguished among ourselves by names.” 
     “Well then, you shall need one, eh?” he said, “How about I call you Leila?” 
     “If you wish to call me so, I will take that name.  But why Leila?” 
     “It suits you.  Leila means ‘dark night’ and ‘beauty,’ and you came on a dark night, did you not?”  She nodded.  “And you are beautiful, are you not?”  This time the succube blushed, surprised that she could actually feel embarrassment at a compliment on the loveliness she had always taken for granted. 
     “Then I shall be Leila,” she replied, “as long as it pleases you.”  The young man smiled. 
     “It pleases me.” 
     “But what shall I call you?” the newly-named Leila asked. 
     “Now that I know I can trust you, I will tell you,” he said, “My name is Cyril.” 
     Some nights Leila took Cyril flying on her dragon.  In the hiding darkness, the pair would soar to places far from Cyril’s farm.  They would see the world together, and strangely, Leila found that the journey was quite different and more pleasant when she was with Cyril.  They talked and laughed and watched the stars on dragon-back, and the evenings passed quickly.  Leila no longer looked for prey, but instead searched for special things to point out to Cyril.  He marveled at the exotic beauty of the faraway places she showed him, and always noticed small charming details that Leila had never noted before. 
     Leila’s whole life seemed more interesting with Cyril.  Even learning to work on the farm, though tiring, was great fun.  Cyril was never angry or harsh with her, and his gentleness affected her daily.  He smiled at her often, not the dumb, love-struck grins of her past victims, but with a true affection, something she had never experienced.  Most of the time, she would not even remember that she belonged elsewhere.  Yet, every so often, especially when she was alone in the house while Cyril went to town to sell his goods, she would recall that she was still a succube and she should have left the farm the day after she arrived.  But whenever she got up the resolve to leave, Cyril would be there, at the doorway or in the yard, and she would lose her courage and stay again. 
     It was not that life was too boring or difficult.  On the contrary, her life was better than it ever had been.  It was the fact that this happiness would never be permanent that made her think of leaving.  She was still a succube, and she knew that all succube were cursed from living normal lives.  Someday, because of her, something would happen and all this would disappear.  By the curse that lay on her, Cyril would have to suffer.  But it was also Cyril who made her want to stay. 
     One evening, as he played his harp before the fire, and shifted from one melody to the next, Leila realized that she had heard the song before, somewhere, sometime, before she came to Cyril’s house.  While he plucked at the strings, Leila inadvertently began to sing with the music.  The young man smiled, for succube voices are more beautiful than human voices by far.  However, this time the succube’s voice was not being used to entrap the heart of a naïve youth. 
     The song was a happy one, about a shepherd who became a prince and decided he liked being a shepherd better, but the young farmer heard the sorrow in the girl’s voice, even as she tried to hide it within the cheerful notes.  “Why do you grieve?” he asked her after the song ended. 
     “I do not,” she replied with a laugh, “Why do you ask?”  He shook his head. 
     “That’s not a good enough answer for me.  You are unhappy.  Tell me why.” 
     “You should not worry,” she said, trying to push him away from the topic. 
     “Of course I should.  If it is my home that displeases you in any way, you are not bound to it or to me.  You may leave whenever you wish.  I will not hinder you.”  Helplessly, the succube began to weep.  She had never realized that succube had tears until this moment, when the droplets suddenly spilled from her eyes.  “Have I done something wrong?” Cyril asked in concern.  Leila shook her head and looked away. 
     “It’s not because of anything you did,” she blurted, “I’m just afraid that you’ll be harmed because of me.”  He was silent, but when she turned to look at him, he was still smiling. 
     “Is that what’s bothering you?  Don’t worry, I’m not so easy to intimidate,” he said confidently, “Nothing will happen to me unless I let it.”  Leila nodded, her fears mostly vanquished by Cyril’s self-assurance. 
     For four years, the succube and the farmer stayed together.  They worked daily on the farm, took frequent walks around the countryside, and occasionally went flying with Leila’s dragon.  She learned most of the numerous songs that he knew so that she could sing when he played his harp.  It was a simple but fulfilling existence. 
     She had little to tell him about her own monotonous life as a succube, but learned more and more about his world.  He had always lived in this house on the middle of this plain, where the nearest sign of habitation was a small hamlet ten miles away.  Other than his parents, he had never had any family or friends.  She even asked him, one afternoon, while they were tilling the fields, if he had ever been in love.  He had laughed at the question. 
     “No,” he had said, amused, “I have never had a sweetheart.  I don’t meet very man girls, since I live here in the middle of nowhere.  Have you ever been in love?” 
     “I’m not sure I would know even if I were in love.  Succube do not fall in love.” 
     “Why not?” 
     “Because if we fell in love with our victims, how would we feed?”  Cyril chuckled a little, as Leila shrugged.  “I don’t know.  Maybe it’s possible.” 
    At the end of the four years, the girl fell sick.  For a few weeks, she had ignored it, convincing herself that it would go away.  But one morning, she did not have enough strength to get out of bed.  When she did not come down for breakfast, Cyril came to her bedroom to see if she was all right.  He knocked, and waited for an answer. 
     “Don’t come in,” she called, “I’m a little sick.  You might catch it.”  So he brought her breakfast upstairs.  Even though she protested when he walked in with the tray, he persuaded her to let him sit with her for a few minutes. 
     For the month following that, Cyril kept her company when he was not working.  She grew fragile, and her skin became pale, as if from lack of blood.  Her sickness did not seem to improve, yet Cyril’s presence always made her feel a bit better.  Near the end of the month, Cyril had to go to town to sell his goods.  He left her enough meals to last her the two days he would be gone, and told her to rest well while he was away. 
     After selling all of his wares in the marketplace, he went to see one of the village elders.  He found an old man who knew everything about spirits and magic, and asked if there was anything that could make a succube unwell.  The old man assumed Cyril was looking for a way to prevent succube from tricking him.  “No, laddie,” the elder said, “Those succube can only die in one way, and that’s if they haven’t fed for too long.  Then they simply fade away.  I’m afraid there isn’t anything that kills succube other than hunger.” 
     Cyril thanked the old man and hurried home.  Normally he would have stayed the night in town and then taken the return trip the second day, but with Leila alone and ailing, he reduced his usual two-day journey by traveling directly home through the night.  As he walked, he thought through his situation and was surprised to find his mind already made up. 
     The moon was setting when he arrived home.  It was around midnight, so Cyril went to bed without disturbing Leila.  He woke the next morning at dawn, as usual, and made breakfast.  After eating, he took Leila’s meal up to her.  “Why are you home already?” she asked as he entered her room. 
     “I didn’t want you to be by yourself for too long, especially since you’re sick.  So I came home last night instead of waiting until morning.” 
     “Did you sell everything?”  He nodded.  “Did you get enough sleep?”  He nodded again.  “I don’t want you to do anything bad for yourself just because I’m a little unwell.” 
     “I can take care of myself,” he said, “You feeling any better?”  She smiled. 
     “I felt better as soon as you came back.  I was bored yesterday without anyone to talk to.” 
     “I’m sorry.” 
     “Oh, I didn’t mean it like that.  I just…like it when you’re around.”  They shared a moment of quiet.  Finally, Cyril spoke again. 
     “Leila, I know what I’m about to do is going to be painful, but I want you to know…I am never going to regret doing it.”  Before she could react, Cyril leaned forward and kissed her on the lips. 
     In the time it took for his action to finally register in her mind, his life force had completely drained into her.  She tried to push him away, but it was already too late.  The succube stared dully as Cyril’s limp body fell to the floor.  Without moving, she listened to the sounds of the outdoor animals for a long few minutes, as her brain struggled to accept the fact that all of this had happened. 
     Suddenly, the tears flooded from her eyes and she began to sob involuntarily.  She slid off the bed and on to her knees.  Kneeling beside the dead man, the succube wept for a long time.  Her teardrops were cold as they fell on his face.  She knew what he wanted her to do.  He wanted her to go on with living and not to mourn over his gift of life. 
     She had known her presence would end up harming Cyril, so when she realized she was dying from the succube’s hunger, she did not tell him that it was anything other than a sickness.  Her plan had been to let herself fade away, and leave Cyril alive and well, to continue living a long and happy life.  But the curse of the succube did not allow her to have even that. 
     When she ran out of tears, she moved Cyril’s body on to the bed and went downstairs.  She already knew what she was going to do. 
     Cyril had left her a short note on the table.  As she read it, she began to cry again.  He had written:
Dear Leila,
          I know what I am about to do is extremely selfish, because I am forcing you to continue to live.  But I do not want to see you die.  While I was in town yesterday, I asked a village elder about the ways a succube could fall ill, and he told me that succube die if they do not feed for too long.  On my way home last night, I realized I had already made my choice the moment I found out how to save you.  Do not be too disturbed on my account.  Know that this is my choice and my wish. 
I love you. 

     And that was all. 
     Leila buried Cyril outside of the farm that evening.  Then, she called her dragon and wearily got on its back.  As she flew through the air, she turned, half-expecting Cyril to be riding behind her, but he was not.  Her journey took her to the farthest reaches of the world, and at every place she stopped, she took with her something that Cyril had once noticed on another journey.  Finally, at dawn, she returned to the farm and decorated his tomb with her collection.  Then, she permanently dismissed her dragon, who stared silently at her with mournful eyes before flying away. 
     She rested for a day, and began working again the next morning.  The succube continued to live alone on the farm.  She was happy, in a way, because she had a plan, and she knew this one would not fail.  There was no one to make it fail. 
     For as long as Cyril’s life sustained her, she would live and work and tend to his grave.  But when his life force was exhausted, she would be able to fade away without regret.  She would live, as Cyril wanted, but she would do nothing to prolong her life.  That way, she was not letting down Cyril’s hope for her, nor was she going to live forever in the life she wished she could return. 
     And, she hoped, she would meet him again when she died.  Perhaps after the four or five years it would take for her to fade, she would be set free from the curse of the succube.  Maybe then, they could both exist in the same world, and she could once more sing to the sound of his harp. 

Fin.
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Ariadne

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Re: Le Succube (Original Fiction)
« Reply #1 on: December 10, 2007, 02:35:00 PM »
I think it is a very sweet story and shows what could be the other side of  dark figure like the succubus is.  I liked the characterisation and the interaction between the characters.  Cyril is just a sweetheart, and well, they could say they were in love with each other.

As i told you in the chat, I loved it.
 

Valora

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Re: Le Succube (Original Fiction)
« Reply #2 on: December 18, 2007, 09:13:32 PM »
I have to say that the story is beautifully written and I really like it.  It like reading a fairytale story.

AuroraExecution

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Re: Le Succube (Original Fiction)
« Reply #3 on: December 19, 2007, 07:52:56 AM »
*bows* Thanks to Arachne and Valora.  *sends cookies*
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Re: Le Succube (Original Fiction)
« Reply #4 on: December 20, 2007, 09:13:14 PM »
Nice and romantic... but my appreciation of this is no doubt soured by my experience with succubae in Darkstalkers.

*moves to hug Morrigan and Lilith, but stops*

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AuroraExecution

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Re: Le Succube (Original Fiction)
« Reply #5 on: December 21, 2007, 10:20:19 AM »
*sweeps another bow* thank you, SSA.  I can assure you my succube is not quite like yours...
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Re: Le Succube (Original Fiction)
« Reply #6 on: February 18, 2011, 05:13:02 AM »
A tragic romantic story! How I wish knowing they'll reunite in the 'other world'.