Leonidas De La Cruz - Unboxed

An intimate conversation with the immortal heart of Blood Match

Many years ago, when I was first starting to write, I read a book that offered an exercise to help create characters. It suggested imagining the character sitting down for an interview and simply asking them questions—then letting them answer in their own voice. It sounded strange, but I thought, hey, what the hell—I’ll give it a try.

At the time, I was writing about a character named Aaron Daniels, a Native American sorcerer in a story that, unfortunately, never fully materialized. So I sat down, invited Aaron into the living room of my mind, and started asking questions.

What happened next surprised me. It was like word association, but deeper. I’d ask a question, and something in my subconscious—something that was Aaron—answered. He had thoughts, feelings, even memories I hadn’t consciously created. And just like that, I realized I hadn’t invented him at all.

I had uncovered him.

From that moment on, I began to understand that the people I wrote about existed somewhere deep inside of me, and it was my job to tell their stories. Since then, the mental doorbell has never stopped ringing. Characters drop by to chat, tell stories, even complain when they think I'm not giving them enough attention. Like a parent, I try to emphasize that I don't have favorites—but I don’t think it really flies.

So that’s how I ended up here tonight—with an 800+ year-old vampire sitting on my couch, ready to share the story of his life.

Let me introduce you to Leonidas De La Cruz: heir of Don Fernando De La Cruz and Lady Genevieve La Fontaine, and inheritor of the ancient bloodline known as the Sanguinis Divina—Divine Blood.

2260: So Leonidas,

Leo: No, call me Leo, family calls me Leo and I consider you family. Hell I spend more time here than anywhere else.

He smiles and it makes me realize why Liam was captivated the first time he saw him.

2260: Ok, Leo. How old are you really and at what age did you become a vampire?

Leo: I was sired in the summer of ll59 in midsummer before the harvest. So that makes me 866. I was 30 years old at the time.

2260: Where were you born as a human?

Leo: As a human, I was born in Greece outside of Athens. My Father and Mother were farmers. My father was given a small piece of land as reward for his service in the military.

2260: Your surname De La Cruz, isn't greek.

Leo: No, De La Cruz is the surname of my Sire, Don Fernando, my immortal father. I chose to take his name because he gave me a new life. I kept my Christian name, Leonidas as a tribute to my birth mother and father.

2260: What was life like as a human?

Leo: Life was good, my father was a good man, we raised goats, grew wheat and vegetables. Our farm resided in the shadow of large estate owned by a rich greek merchant. He had 100 tenant farmers, my father was one of the few independent farms in the region. While I was growing up things were quiet, my father was respected for his service in the military. He died when I turned 25.

2260: Losing your father must have been hard for you.

Leo: It was, he had been the strength that held things together. His quiet patient love. I think when he died, part of my mother died with him. She never smiled as much as before. The songs she used to sing while baking bread or working in the house went silent. It was as if he took the music with him. I did my best to care for her, to keep the farm running. But eventually she followed him, I buried her not 2 years after my father.

I took a moment, pausing to just sit with what Leo had shared. I felt this needed time, a moment of sacred silence to honor the loss that a son felt for his parents. No matter that it happened centuries ago, grief is timeless and even when the wound is worn smooth by the passing of the years, it is still there.

After a few moments, Leo smiled again and I knew it was ok to continue. There is something magical about how he communicates, not just with words, but a look, a gesture. The quiet music of centuries, stillness and peace.

2260: What was it like after your parents died? What did you do?

Leo: Things didn't really change. I felt it was my duty to carry on. To care for the farm which my mother and father had spent their lives on. It helped me grieve, I poured myself into the work. Burying my grief in the soil like I buried the seed. After a while, the pain eased, it didn't go away, but it got softer, easier to carry. The time came when I could look at the sunset and remember them with a smile instead of a tear.

2260: So you continued to farm?

Leo: Yes, I kept the farm and continued to work the fields alone. I was happy. My mother had always wanted me to marry and have children. It was what good greek orthodox men did. I never had the heart or the courage to tell her that I wasn't interested in the opposite sex.

2260: it must have been a lonely life.

Leo: There was the occassional tryst in the barn with a boy from another farm, but there was never anything serious. And after my parents died, even those casual encounters stopped. I didn't find fulfillment in them anymore.

2260: So life continued in this quiet space of work and grief for some time?

Leo: Yes, the quiet rhythm of the seasons, planting, growing, harvesting, resting. It went on for a few years and then things changed. The merchant's son began to make the rounds of the tenant farmers. Rumors of his cruelty preceeded him. I didn't think much of it, my land was my own and he had no reason to look in my direction—or so I thought.

2260: What happened?

Leo: Things changed one day when the lordling happened to stray onto my land with his entourage. I was tending the goats when he rode up. I had just turned 30 that year and it was early summer, the spring planting was done, the first kidding had happened and the baby goats were playing in the pasture. I had put on quite a bit of lean muscle from all the farm work I had done. As he approached I could see his appraising gaze on me.

As he rode up, I stopped what I was doing and waited for him to approach. He halted a few feet away from me and looked around at the farm and then after a few minutes, at me. I bit my tongue at his rudeness, as I waited for him to speak. He finally did enquiring about the farm, the size of the flocks, one of his men seemed quite attentive—waiting for my answers to commit them to memory. I smiled and in my most polite voice I explained that my farm was not one of his tenants, I owned my land outright. As I explained I pointed to the landmarks that made up the boundaries of my land so there was no mistaking where his father's land ended and mine began.

He listened as I spoke, a smile on his face, but I noticed it didn't reach his eyes. When I finished he thanked me for making things clear. Then he looked at me and complimented me on the beautiful piece of land that I owned. I had the feeling that he was not just speaking about the farm. He turned his horse and rode away casting one final look over his shoulder as he departed.

Even though I totally transfixed by Leo's story, my body betrayed me and I tried without success to stifle a yawn. At which Leo promptly got up.

Leo: We can continue this another time, you are going to bed, now.

2260: Leo, no we are just getting to the good stuff. The readers…

Leo: Hamilton, the readers will understand. There is time. But you are still mortal and you need sleep.

I knew it was futile to argue with him, he took charge like he did for so many others. I understood why Liam loved him, why Tristan considered him a more a brother than a boss. It was classic Leonidas De La cruz, to know him was to be loved and cared for.

Until our next conversation Leo.