((Author Note: Sorry everyone, but I'm a little behind on my writing for Totentanz, so here is the prologue to the prequel, Birth of a Hunter, which delves into Frost's history and explains why he is who he is. Without further adieu, here we go!))
It begins a cool summer's night, in the year of our Lord 1792. Eastern Prussia, or what is now known as Germany. I was the elder of twins born to Gustave and Sophie von Drei. Viktor was my birth name, one I have long since abandoned. My brother, Adrian, was my sanity... and my undoing.
Life was typical of a wealthy family of the age; pampered by maids and man-servants, we never knew what it was to be without. Our father, Liegelord of the province, was often pre-occupied with diplomatic affairs, while my mother was dragged along for the sake of keeping with proper appearances befitting those of our station. So, Jesika, the eldest of our maids, became our nanny of sorts.
Things began to take a turn for the worse, however, in 1811, when both Jesika and my mother took ill and passed away. Our entire home was crushed, emotionally speaking, stricken with grief at losing two people so dear to us so quickly. It was then that Adrian began to look into the occult, dabbling in dark magic in search of the secrets of resurrection and immortality. It was all in secret, of course, but Adrian and I never kept secrets from each other.
And me, being the God-fearing youth that I was... I was mortified by his actions. This was my brother, my twin, the only blood family I had known, that I still had in almost 20 years of living. I could not turn him in to a priest to save him, nor would he listen to my pleas for him to stop, that God had his reasons for everything happening the way it did.
If I had turned him in... if I had just had the willpower to stop him...
I wish I had.