Thor the Furious was the most dangerous of Octavian’s generals. The most dangerous. Not the most powerful, much in the same way that good liquor was probably responsible for more deaths than swords, yet few would select beer as their weapon of choice. Though Thor always did bring beer. It helped to put him in a foul temper, and that was important. He had a reputation to uphold.

But before he was Thor the Furious, he was Thor the Mad King. It had a nice ring to it, he figured. And he enjoyed being unpredictable.

But being mad was much like being fashionable, he found. He would rave about the earth being round, and they would all call him crazy. But a hundred years would pass and the round earth theory was popular, and all of a sudden, the flat earthers were the crazy ones. Which Thor found utterly insane. He only claimed the earth was round to uphold his reputation, but how could it be? Wouldn’t he just fall off it?

Wouldn’t the world be all curvy?

Why wasn’t it spinning?

Thinking about it only made him angry. That’s why he changed his name to Thor the Furious, playing off the other meaning of mad.

But being angry for a thousand years had proven exhausting. Sometimes he didn’t even have the energy for a decapitation. He was considering another name change, to Thor the Curious this time. He would read books instead of burning them.

Books! That would be his new thing.

Yes, books.

If only reading didn’t make him so furious.

“Oye, there's that the stinkin’ human, just amblin’ down the hall, like he owns the damn place!”

There it was, walking towards him - the current source of Thor’s anger - not books or semantics or planar theory, but a human. The Human anmed Arthur.

Humans in the castle were fine enough, provided they were chained up and on the menu, but this human was treated like a guest. Like an equal.

Like a vampire.

Suddenly anger was no effort at all. Thor grabbed his war hammer and readied for battle, every muscle in his body swelling and shifting, like heavy stones in the midst of an earthquake.

Then Saturn rounded the corner.

She was trailing not far behind the human, only inches away. Inconceivable, thought Thor - standing a mere sword’s length from a human and not either fucking, drinking, or murdering it. Torture was also an acceptable option, though Thor never had the patience for playing the long game.

But one look in Saturn’s eyes told him that none of those were options now.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he asked.

“Do you have a problem?” she coldly replied.

“I sure do. I wish you’d start treating this fellow more humanely.”

“Oh. Why thank you,” said Arthur, not understanding that his definition of the word “humanely” differed greatly from Thor’s.

For Arthur, humane treatment meant not being forced to paint the same image of a raven on his inner thigh over and over again, for five days straight, only to have it magically erased because it either “Looks like a deranged pigeon,” or “Makes me want to die all over again.” A rather specific definition, he realized, but one he was sticking with.

But for Thor, humane meant treating one like a human, which meant tearing them limb from limb and sucking them dry.

“God damn human,” snarled Thor. “I can’t stand your stench. It’s stinking up the whole castle.”

“Oh,” said Arthur, noticing a difference of opinion. “Sorry about that. But I’ve heard there’s a dungeon full of humans. So, I assume the castle already smells of them.”

“Well, that’s different,” said Thor. “You’d be fine with a pig in your house, so long as it’s in your pantry or on your plate. But you wouldn’t want it sleeping in your bed, now would you?”

“I slept with pigs on the farm all the time.”

Thor sighed. “Look. It’s the difference between smelling a pork roast and smelling a pig, you understand?”

“Well, sure, but I think I smell pretty….”

But Thor was ignoring the human now. He was watching Saturn, trying to understand why she was playing with this lowly creature. She hated humans. Even the tasty ones. So why did she tolerate one as spirited as this?

“So,” said Thor, turning back to the human. “Saturn must be making your life a living hell, ain’t she?”

Arthur glanced at Saturn. “Oh no, she’s been very kind to me,” he answered, afraid of what she might do to him if he spoke ill of her.

“Kind?” bellowed Thor. “You’re a human, and even amongst them you're a nobody. Meanwhile, Saturn is a vampire so ancient and powerful you don’t even know. You’re total opposites. How could she possibly be kind to you?”

“Well, I’ve heard opposites attract,” said Arthur. He should have known better. He should have backed down. But he was so starved for human interaction that he’d settle for interaction of any kind, even without the human part.

And it’s as Saturn said. Octavian has ordered the other vampires not to leave a scratch on him. Sure, Thor could cleave him in half and heal him later, but he didn’t seem too imaginative. How terrible a wound could he inflict?

But then Thor let out a laugh so loud and terrible that the walls seemed to quiver and the chandeliers seemed to flicker. “Opposites attract is bullshit,” he said.

“How so?” asked Arthur.

“Have you ever killed anyone?”

“No.”

“Exactly, but you wouldn’t court a murderer, now would you?”

He glanced at Saturn again. “No, I suppose not.”

“See? People can like different books, or one maybe likes beer and the other tea. But mostly you just want to marry your doppelgänger.”

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“So?”

“So, a pig is a far better match for you. Your spitting image.”

All his life, Arthur thought he had accepted his role as a simple farmhand. But he had simply given up hope, a similar but critically different sensation than acceptance. And now that he had the chance to be something greater, now that he had hope...

“And what?” he said, stepping forwards. “A savage like you is suited to a great vampire like Saturn? You’re more my equal than hers.”

“Why, ya puny human!”

Thor suddenly moved. Though to Arthur’s naked human eye, it appeared as if he had simply vanished, then reappeared with his hammer just a hair’s length from his head.

The hammer would have been in his head, if not for Saturn, who was holding onto Thor’s forearm, the nails and the upper digits of her needle like fingers vanishing into his skin.

“What?” snarled Thor. “Yer’ telling me you won’t let me kill this human?”

“That’s not what I’m saying at all,” said Saturn, tightening her grip. “What I’m saying is that I don’t want you talking to this human, I don’t want you looking at him. I don’t want you even thinking about him, understand?” She tossed back Thor’s arm, like she was throwing a scrap of paper. The bicep where she had grabbed him was swollen and half its regular width, bones sticking out in various wrong directions.

“And if you can do all that and still find a way to kill him, then be my guest.”

Thor answered by punching a hole in the wall with his shattered arm. No, punching wasn't the right word, thought Arthur. He simply pushed his arm through with no effort at all, as if he were dropping a spoon in a bowl of porridge. Then he removed it with a dull plop, revealing a perfectly intact limb.

And then he left.

Arthur waited for Saturn to say something. She must have something horrible she wanted to either say or do to him. But ten seconds of anticipation was far too much for him to bear, and words started spilling out.

“I’m sorry, but when he compared us…”

“Can’t you be silent?” said Saturn, turning to him. “For just ten seconds? Can you do that?” Arthur backed away. Saturn’s eyes were fully black now, as if her pupils were inkwells that had tipped over, filling up all the white space around them.

“Let me explain something,” she said, pushing Arthur against the wall. “We are all fiercely loyal to Octavian, and obey his every order. But we are allowed to interpret those laws as we wish.” She ran a nail across his neck, leaving a subtle red line. “For instance, when he says he doesn’t want to see a scratch on you, I take that to mean I should heal any wound I inflict.” She waved her hand over the cut, erasing it. “But to Thor, that means he should kill you in a way that there’s nothing left to look at. You can’t see scratches on a pile of ash, can you? Or if you’re buried under a lake.”

The black in her eyes returned to its proper borders. “The law protecting you is the command ‘do not enter my room,’” she said plainly. “Not ‘I do not want to see a scratch on the human.’ Now, hurry up, we’re keeping Caesar waiting.”

That’s right, thought Arthur, he had forgotten all about his combat training. He would ordinarily be reluctant to spar with vampires, but he had a hard time imagining how it could be much worse than Saturn’s needle torture, and he was eager to leave his room (though admittedly far less eager now, knowing what he knew). At least he could learn how to defend himself against Thor.

Not that it would matter, facing that monster.

“Sorry we’re late,” said Saturn, as they entered the training grounds, an expansive arena lit by several large fire pits. Arthur looked around, but the room seemed to be empty. Who was Saturn talking to?

“Oh, please, no trouble at all,” said the vampire Caesar, dropping from the ceiling (well over a thirty foot drop). “I can’t stand an impatient vampire. You have an eternity ahead of you, and you can’t wait five extra minutes? I swear, some people will never be happy.”

“What were you doing up there?” asked Saturn.

“Crunches.”

“Ah. Well …” Saturn pushed Arthur forwards. “I brought the human. Sorry for dumping him on you like this.”

“Oh please. I love a challenge.” Caesar manifested right in front of Arthur, grabbing his hand and giving it a vigorous shake. “Besides, I do love human culture. Your weapons, your sports, your cities ….”

“But apparently not our clothes,” thought Arthur, taken aback by Caesar's naked physique. Thus far he had noticed the trend that the more powerful the vampire, the more clothes they had - an extra bit of plumage around the neck, a cape, or perhaps even two capes, or a double pronged cape, or velvet gloves and a great big wig.

But not Caesar.

This is not to say that Caesar was the weakest vampire. He was indeed the least dangerous, behind all the other generals, the soldiers, and even the lowly ghouls and enchanted gargoyles.

But he was also the most powerful, Saturn had told him, second only to Octavian himself.

But the strength of a single vampire was still limited, Caesar understood, so he made himself busy training the others, adapting human exercise techniques for use by his undead brethren. Which proved quite difficult, as the undead had a resting heartbeat of zero beats a minute, they had a hard time getting sun… oh, and they could not exactly eat healthy. Or at all for that matter.

But he was currently hard at work developing zero calorie blood.

“Oh boy, a real live human,” he said, squeezing Arthur’s biceps. “I always wanted to train a human.”

“I think you mean real life human.”

“Sure budy.”

“But…” said Arthur, having a hard time breathing as Caesar pressed down on his stomach muscles. “I should have you know, I’m not all that strong. Actually, I’m quite sure I’m weak.”

“Listen here,” said Caesar, placing a large hand on Arthur’s shoulders. “Octavian, the greatest of all vampires, chose you, you…” he said, poking Arthur in the chest for added emphasis, “to be his body double. You have a chance to be a somebody. Granted, a somebody who isn’t you, but still, don’t you want to be known? Don’t you want to be feared?” He leaned in and whispered in Arthur’s ear. “Don’t you want to be remembered?”

“Oh, hell yes,” shouted Arthur’s heart.

But Arthur’s mouth figured different. “Oh, I don’t know,” it said, stuttering somewhat. “I think I’d rather be forgotten as the guy who ate lots of waffles. Died in his sleep, you know?”

If only he’d said sooner, Saturn thought - she’d thought of killing him in his sleep ever since he arrived.

“Oh Arthur,” said Caesar, jogging towards the center of the room, swiping energetically at the air. “You’re hilarious. Now come on, it's time to be the best not-you you can be.”

Arthur started to take his shirt off, since that seemed like the manly thing to do. But Caesar interjected with a polite, yet forceful “That won’t be necessary.”

Despite his nudity, Caesar did believe in clothes, much in the same way a carpenter believed in putting a cloth cover over a building in the midst of construction. Best to keep that hidden away until it was properly built up.

“Remember, this is a friendly match,” said Caesar. “I just want to see what you can do.”

“Got it,” said Arthur.

He immediately leapt back, bouncing on the balls of his feet, trying to make himself as hard a target to hit as possible. Dodge. That was his strategy. His one advantage was his starved farmhand physique, which made for a very small target, particularly if he stood sideways.

He threw a faint, then jabbed at Caesar's face. The blow connected with his left eye, but it seemed to have little effect.

Caesar countered with a jab of his own. Arthur dodged by falling backwards, which was a wise strategy, as Caesar's arm shot right through the wall.

“Well, I’m out,” said Arthur.

“What, already?” said Caesar, sounding genuinely disappointed. “We just started.”

“I mean, you just punched a hole through a wall.”

“Yea. That’s fairly standard stuff.”

“How is that standard? You could seriously hurt a person.”

A person.

That’s right, he had forgotten that Caesar was not a person. He was simply talented at imitating one. All the gestures were there, the mannerisms, the facial expressions, the speech patterns. But there was nothing beneath it all. No soul to speak of. He was like a human tourist, speaking their language and enjoying their culture. But at the end of the day he would go back to his castle and feast on the flesh of a virgin. play an organ dramatically.

Whatever it was vampires did.

“Shall we go back to your room then?” asked Saturn.

Arthur turned to her, remembering what she had said - that Octavian’s order to not leave a scratch on him was up to each vampire's interpretation. In Caesar's case, this seemed to mean gaping holes through the human’s head were fine, so long as there were no scratches.

Dear god, Arthur realized.

Out of all the Vampires, only Saturn understood him.