Reclaiming an Immortal Soul
Oct. 8th, 2007 02:02 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
aegrus_letalisSummary: Following the events of Underworld and Constantine crossover at ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
tenebrae_nostro, Amelia finds herself numb, tortured and pathetically emo (hey, happens once in a lifetime). In dire need of solitude, she basically returns to the manor and locks herself away while pushing away all those that might try to help. Almost. For now, none of this crosses over to RP as the thread is actually not finished. Whatever will cross over will be posted as fiction there. Just had all of this bouncing around in my head.
Characters: Amelia, Matayas, Lothoro
Enter Solitude: Night Four
The room that Amelia sat in now was a stark contrast to the pit of hell that devoured her only a few days ago. Since her return, the elder sought out the quiet of the manor where she asked not to be disturbed by the inquisitive questions of the coven on her whereabouts. It was a business meeting overseas whose outcomes was most favourable. That was the line that Matayas was convincing them of most persuasively. Since returning from the "voyage" Amelia barely spoke two words to anyone and promptly locked herself in her wing. For the first time in awhile, anyone stationed in front of her door would have no trouble keeping tabs on her.
The Heart of Everything: Night Eight
"Open up your eyes, save yourself from fading away, don't let it go. Open up your eyes, see what you've become, don't sacrifice, it's truly the heart of everything."
She draped the shawl around her head and flicked the excess back around her shoulder. Slipping out of the manor to its extravagant gardens, she walked passed them without even a glance at the brilliant orange and red tint of the leaves on the trees. The elder walked straight ahead slowly, until she could hear the rush of the waves slap at the cliff. What annoyed her was that she could feel Lothoro several paces behind her. He was watching her, probably instructed by Matayas to do so.
Silent Winter: Night Twelve
The light knock on her door pounded through her head but she ignored best she could until the person went away. Three hours later another knock, this time harder, tapped on her door. Again, she ignored it until the person gave up. Her cell phone buzzed on the white and grey marble counter, she had allowed it to go to voicemail. Several hours later, there was one hard knock on her door; she ignored it until she heard the key turn in the lock.
“I see that I will have to have the locks changed.” She whispered hoarsely.
The candles reflected in the silver tray that he placed next to her. On it stood a crystal decanter and a lovely wineglass. The crimson liquid in crystal was much redder and thicker then wine, and much more luxurious in taste as well.
She hardly moved as he brushed an errant strand of hair out of her face. Kneeling in front of her, his face was lightly highlighted by the shadow of a sympathetic smile. His words, however, held a harder edge to them. “You must drink.”
The sight of the blood did nothing to invoke her desire for it. “I am truly not hungry.”
Matayas raised an eyebrow. “And with all due respect, my lady, I truly do not care.” The surprise registered only lightly on her face, but she scoffed at his wretched remark. She would have to put him in his place. Who did he think he was? “You have not fed in what I can only guess is more than a month. It is time enough. It will make you feel better.”
tenebrae_nostro, Amelia finds herself numb, tortured and pathetically emo (hey, happens once in a lifetime). In dire need of solitude, she basically returns to the manor and locks herself away while pushing away all those that might try to help. Almost. For now, none of this crosses over to RP as the thread is actually not finished. Whatever will cross over will be posted as fiction there. Just had all of this bouncing around in my head. Characters: Amelia, Matayas, Lothoro
Enter Solitude: Night Four
The room that Amelia sat in now was a stark contrast to the pit of hell that devoured her only a few days ago. Since her return, the elder sought out the quiet of the manor where she asked not to be disturbed by the inquisitive questions of the coven on her whereabouts. It was a business meeting overseas whose outcomes was most favourable. That was the line that Matayas was convincing them of most persuasively. Since returning from the "voyage" Amelia barely spoke two words to anyone and promptly locked herself in her wing. For the first time in awhile, anyone stationed in front of her door would have no trouble keeping tabs on her.
She sat in the front of her window for hours, as statuesque as the Athena Nike standing in her courtyard. Her fingers lightly rubbed her temple. Behind her, the icy blue silk damask walls shone in the lights of the candles. Somehow she could not take the bright lights when she turned the electricity on. Her elegant diamond necklace and diamond and pearl earrings were much different from the bloody gash that stretched over her neck in Hades. Her hair was pinned back in a neat French twist, much different from the matted tangles that slapped at her face among The Treacherous. Perfectly manicured fingernails graced her porcilian coloured skin that was no longer caked with blood and dirt from the Styx. In the background the soft vocal undulations of an old folk song echoed out into the room as if in mourning. The Elder had not slept since her return, although she had tried. The images of the inferno haunted her endlessly. Surely, it would be unbecoming of an Elder to wake up the house with her tormented screams if she dreamed. Amelia had not fed since her return either, dismissing her council womans concerns by stating that she simply was not hungry because her journey had been long and tiring. There had been no discussion of the events that transpired before her "trip" or their implications...no lengthy explanations and heartfelt pronouncements. None of it she had the heart to hear or say now, none of it she had the desire to even begin to address. As she gazed at the moon fading in the sky, she longed to be freed although she did not understand what that meant fully. Perhaps she longed for the deep slumber. The bliss that near death brought as her heart would be stopped and the world would fall away for two glorious centuries. Before, it served as a necessity. Now, it was a luxury that not even the wealthy aristocrat could afford.
Still, this feeling of numbness was not far off the mark. The lack of sustenance slowed her heart down and the meditative fugue she floated in was akin to the feeling of slumber. Maybe if she could slumber she would wake up not feeling so...empty. So saturated she was in her thoughts that she did not notice the shadow below her balcony. Matayas. On his face, a perfectly concerned look. The night faded, the elder had watched the stars travel the sky as she tried to remember a simpler time. She had to stretch her memory centuries. Even then the memories were grainy like a picture that had yellowed and faded with the ages. Her eyes fluttered closed, so heavy they had become that she did not even bother to get up, nor draw the blinds. The world went away. Thankfully.
*The next evening*
She was stirring from her tortured sleep. Before she even opened her eyes, she frowned. Somehow she was lying on her bed, covered in a soft ivory coloured throw. How she had gotten here was not a question for she felt his presence in the Empire chair before she even opened her eyes.
"I gave explicit instructions that I was not to be disturbed." He said nothing. The chair creaked lightly as he shifted forward out of the shadows. She realised that he had probably spent the entire day in that chair. He had changed the candles and even kept the music on softly so she would not notice something amiss or different as she slept. Her eyes opened, but she did not move either. "You left your blinds open and fell asleep in front of the window, my Lady, very close to sunrise." There was a tension in his voice and a sullen velvety quality to it that spoke lightly of very thinly veiled patience. He was holding back words.
She did not answer. The silence hung in air heavily, gloomy, like the uncomfortable sadness following the news that a loved one had only a few months to live. "I want to be alone. I must ask you to leave." The chair was lightly pushed back as he got up. "You have been alone long enough," he said plainly. He sat on the edge of her bed. What was this? She wanted to yell at him for his insolence, but found that she simply did not even care to do so.
"Matayas, you can leave or I can have several of your brothers and kin escort you out. It really is your choice." Her voice was cold and hard yet had a broken quality to it.
He stared at her form, his brows knitting in between his forehead. "I shall not leave until you drink something. Your council woman has-"
"You do not answer to my council woman, Matayas, you answer to me and I have just asked you to leave." He did not move. Not an inch. "I cannot do this now. I cannot and will not argue here with you. Just go."
His heavy footfalls were compounded by the door closing. Sighing, she pressed her eyes closed hoping that when she opened them...well, she didn't know what to hope for actually.
Still, this feeling of numbness was not far off the mark. The lack of sustenance slowed her heart down and the meditative fugue she floated in was akin to the feeling of slumber. Maybe if she could slumber she would wake up not feeling so...empty. So saturated she was in her thoughts that she did not notice the shadow below her balcony. Matayas. On his face, a perfectly concerned look. The night faded, the elder had watched the stars travel the sky as she tried to remember a simpler time. She had to stretch her memory centuries. Even then the memories were grainy like a picture that had yellowed and faded with the ages. Her eyes fluttered closed, so heavy they had become that she did not even bother to get up, nor draw the blinds. The world went away. Thankfully.
*The next evening*
She was stirring from her tortured sleep. Before she even opened her eyes, she frowned. Somehow she was lying on her bed, covered in a soft ivory coloured throw. How she had gotten here was not a question for she felt his presence in the Empire chair before she even opened her eyes.
"I gave explicit instructions that I was not to be disturbed." He said nothing. The chair creaked lightly as he shifted forward out of the shadows. She realised that he had probably spent the entire day in that chair. He had changed the candles and even kept the music on softly so she would not notice something amiss or different as she slept. Her eyes opened, but she did not move either. "You left your blinds open and fell asleep in front of the window, my Lady, very close to sunrise." There was a tension in his voice and a sullen velvety quality to it that spoke lightly of very thinly veiled patience. He was holding back words.
She did not answer. The silence hung in air heavily, gloomy, like the uncomfortable sadness following the news that a loved one had only a few months to live. "I want to be alone. I must ask you to leave." The chair was lightly pushed back as he got up. "You have been alone long enough," he said plainly. He sat on the edge of her bed. What was this? She wanted to yell at him for his insolence, but found that she simply did not even care to do so.
"Matayas, you can leave or I can have several of your brothers and kin escort you out. It really is your choice." Her voice was cold and hard yet had a broken quality to it.
He stared at her form, his brows knitting in between his forehead. "I shall not leave until you drink something. Your council woman has-"
"You do not answer to my council woman, Matayas, you answer to me and I have just asked you to leave." He did not move. Not an inch. "I cannot do this now. I cannot and will not argue here with you. Just go."
His heavy footfalls were compounded by the door closing. Sighing, she pressed her eyes closed hoping that when she opened them...well, she didn't know what to hope for actually.
The Heart of Everything: Night Eight
"Open up your eyes, save yourself from fading away, don't let it go. Open up your eyes, see what you've become, don't sacrifice, it's truly the heart of everything."
She draped the shawl around her head and flicked the excess back around her shoulder. Slipping out of the manor to its extravagant gardens, she walked passed them without even a glance at the brilliant orange and red tint of the leaves on the trees. The elder walked straight ahead slowly, until she could hear the rush of the waves slap at the cliff. What annoyed her was that she could feel Lothoro several paces behind her. He was watching her, probably instructed by Matayas to do so.
Go home, Lothoro.
Why my Lady? Is it wrong for me to take a walk on such a perfect day? I shall give you all the space you require.
The breath left her in a slow hiss. They were trying her patience. The bluff came closer and closer. Footstep after footstep, the pebbles crunched under her shoes. The wind was lightly blowing through her hair. Looking down, she saw where she must have fallen. Turning, she saw a tree doubled in half and the spot were Selene and her had looked upon each other with malice. There was no more blood as the rain had brushed it away but Amelia could still see it, smell the rain and hear the clatter of the their swords. Looking down, she saw where she had grabbed Selene's foot in the hopes of pulling her off the ledge. Where she hoped that the beast and her daughter would tumble to their deaths. Lightly shaking her head, she looked out into the distance. No wonder she had gone to hell. For the coven? I did nothing wrong. At least I thought that I did nothing wrong. I've given everything that I could in the only ways I knew how.
Dear Amelia, it was not your hell to be in. It was not created by one who had the right to bare judgment on you. Yet, that was not the thought her mind grasped. Turning, her eyes caught Lothoro waiting by the trees.
"My Lady, it is no ones fault but the beasts."
"I know," she replied coldly as she breezed by him.
"Then what is wrong Amelia? You are back, you are-"
He stopped talking, suddenly cut off and taken aback at the cold, hard laugh that slithered out of her mouth. It very nearly sounded desperate. The Lady did not stop walking.
"All is well. Yes, I am back." She didn't feel back. She didn't feel much of anything and their concern annoyed her. If the coven wanted to believe her heartless and cold, well, these were good days to make that assessment. As quickly as possible she went back to her wing and locked her doors.
Why my Lady? Is it wrong for me to take a walk on such a perfect day? I shall give you all the space you require.
The breath left her in a slow hiss. They were trying her patience. The bluff came closer and closer. Footstep after footstep, the pebbles crunched under her shoes. The wind was lightly blowing through her hair. Looking down, she saw where she must have fallen. Turning, she saw a tree doubled in half and the spot were Selene and her had looked upon each other with malice. There was no more blood as the rain had brushed it away but Amelia could still see it, smell the rain and hear the clatter of the their swords. Looking down, she saw where she had grabbed Selene's foot in the hopes of pulling her off the ledge. Where she hoped that the beast and her daughter would tumble to their deaths. Lightly shaking her head, she looked out into the distance. No wonder she had gone to hell. For the coven? I did nothing wrong. At least I thought that I did nothing wrong. I've given everything that I could in the only ways I knew how.
Dear Amelia, it was not your hell to be in. It was not created by one who had the right to bare judgment on you. Yet, that was not the thought her mind grasped. Turning, her eyes caught Lothoro waiting by the trees.
"My Lady, it is no ones fault but the beasts."
"I know," she replied coldly as she breezed by him.
"Then what is wrong Amelia? You are back, you are-"
He stopped talking, suddenly cut off and taken aback at the cold, hard laugh that slithered out of her mouth. It very nearly sounded desperate. The Lady did not stop walking.
"All is well. Yes, I am back." She didn't feel back. She didn't feel much of anything and their concern annoyed her. If the coven wanted to believe her heartless and cold, well, these were good days to make that assessment. As quickly as possible she went back to her wing and locked her doors.
Silent Winter: Night Twelve
The light knock on her door pounded through her head but she ignored best she could until the person went away. Three hours later another knock, this time harder, tapped on her door. Again, she ignored it until the person gave up. Her cell phone buzzed on the white and grey marble counter, she had allowed it to go to voicemail. Several hours later, there was one hard knock on her door; she ignored it until she heard the key turn in the lock.
“I see that I will have to have the locks changed.” She whispered hoarsely.
The candles reflected in the silver tray that he placed next to her. On it stood a crystal decanter and a lovely wineglass. The crimson liquid in crystal was much redder and thicker then wine, and much more luxurious in taste as well.
She hardly moved as he brushed an errant strand of hair out of her face. Kneeling in front of her, his face was lightly highlighted by the shadow of a sympathetic smile. His words, however, held a harder edge to them. “You must drink.”
The sight of the blood did nothing to invoke her desire for it. “I am truly not hungry.”
Matayas raised an eyebrow. “And with all due respect, my lady, I truly do not care.” The surprise registered only lightly on her face, but she scoffed at his wretched remark. She would have to put him in his place. Who did he think he was? “You have not fed in what I can only guess is more than a month. It is time enough. It will make you feel better.”
“And if I don’t choose to feel better? If all I want is to be left alone and given my time?” He straightened up, not knowing what to say next as her eyes bared down on him.
“Then drink and I shall leave you alone.”
“No, please take it away.”
“Amelia,” he said softly. His hard features were softened by the mounting concern in his eyes. “You can drink it or I can force you to drink it.” With that remark, she finally had quite enough. Her hand slammed into the glass and decanter, sending it flying against the Damask wall. “You will learn your place, Matayas. Now get out.”
He folded his arms across his chest and glanced at the walls before his deceptively calm gaze landed on her. “If you won’t drink it for yourself, then drink it for the coven.” It was like trying to bribe a child.
Her eyes glistened as they darted around the room trying to formulate the thoughts in her head, that one question that haunted all of her other questions.
“Why?” Now he was clearly worried. Why? Amelia got up slowly, holding onto the arm of the chair. It was only then that he realized how frail she looked. Amelia never looked frail. It was the first time that he saw her much weakened from a seemingly self- imposed hunger strike. Frightening. For a vampire, she just looked unwell. The anger vanished as his hand reflexively came out in an attempt to steady her should she fall. Christ.
“I ended up in hell, Matayas, right next to Vitkor, Lucian and Raze. In the same hell that held Marcus and Kraven. I shared their fate. What in Gods name, therefore, makes me think that I am ruling this coven justly? A person comes to the end of their life and they want to know that they changed the course for the better, not made it worse. I am no better than them. Like Viktor, I tried to kill my own child. Like Marcus, I tried to form the coven in my image. I am no better,” she whispered. “So yes, why?”
Matayas lightly shook his head. “Amelia, you were in an afterlife created by evil. If there is an afterlife governing this world then that, surely, was not representative of it. Besides, in a way, my lady, you are not meant to rule “justly”. You are meant to rule in such a way that will preserve this coven for the centuries to come. You have done that with more grace, strength and honour than Viktor ever could have hoped to, because he was in his very being corrupt. Your methods might beg some questions from others at times, but your intent, your plans have never been cruel or corrupt.”
Her eyes were glued to the floor. "In hell, Viktor said to me, "the road to hell is paved with good intentions". Is that not how the old saying goes? Is there not truth to that?"
Matayas walked over to the shelf where he had found the envelop with her designs for the covens future written on it. Her eyes followed him and she nearly turned white realizing what he had seen. Learned. It basically expressed her deepest desires without really saying a word.
“If you were like them and had only your interests at heart, would you have written this? Would you have so comprehensively formulated a strategy and plan to strengthen and make the coven great into the furthest future?”
Her hand flew to her chest. “That was not meant for you. You were not supposed to see that…yet.” He was in it, so very central to her plans and designs along with Selene and Lothoro and few others. A shadow of anger hinted at her eyes.
“I am sorry, it was not my intent to gaze upon your effects but…” What was he going to say? “When I thought you were…gone.” Her eyes went blank and unfocused as he took a step towards her. Drawing in a deep breath, he let it out slowly.
“So you saw my plans. In that case, what were you t-thinking?” Her voice broke and with one hand she steadied herself by holding the bedpost.
“My lady?” Confused, he waited for answer as his eyes swept over her thin frame. He should have kicked the door in and forced her to feed days ago. Days ago. She could hate him for eternity for it, but at least she would have been well. Or as well as she could be.
Her dull green eyes grew brighter in what he thought was anger. “What.Were.You.Thinking!” Her voice grew louder with each word. “Seeing my plans you allow Lothoro, Selene and yourself to undertake such a dangerous journey, which you had no reason to believe would succeed! And after my warnings, you all blaze into the mouth of hell without concern for the rest of the house!” Her body trembled in its rage as her arm flailed at him. “What would have happened if you fell? And then if that wasn’t enough, you martyred yourselves!”
Matayas considered what she said and remembered all to well the emptiness he felt when she was gone. “Your service is to the coven Amelia, my service is to you. Without you here there was no reason for me being here.”
He left out the implications of what that meant, but it still served to infuriate her. “That is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard and you know it.”
“Perhaps. Why dwell on it now? It is done and we are all still here.”
He never saw her eyes turn that intimidating shade of green before. Her soft footsteps betrayed how quickly she turned on him. Despite her weakness, his vision still swayed as her hand lashed across his face in a ferocious smack. The heat stung his cheek as his head turned with the force. His brows furrowed. He had never been hit by her before. Slowly, his head trailed back to look back at her, just in time to catch her other “weak” hand as it sought to strike him. “Why dwell on it,” she hissed out, “why dwell on it!” He didn’t know how her voice came out so low yet so scathing at the same time, but her next words boomed out loudly. “Because I have already lived through the fear of thinking you and the others dead! Because I have already buried a knight and many Death Dealers! Because I watched you die! Because I have already lost my daughter once! Because this coven was already destroyed once! Because we have already lost enough! Because…because it is not only this coven that would suffer your absence! I am SICK of living in the land of constant DEATH. That is why I will dwell on it!”
The back of her hand flew to her mouth as her face cracked and her knees buckled. They slid down to the ground as he caught her effortlessly. The deep sob that racked her body came down in a throaty wail as the tears slide down her face. All he could think was ‘finally’. Finally. He couldn’t remember the last time she broke, but he couldn’t remember the last time she had not been through hell literally and figuratively so completely for the last few years. Let us not mentioned the general pattern of the last few centuries.
Because it is not only this coven that would suffer your absence.
He held her close against his chest, lightly stroking her hair. He didn’t hush her or tell her that it was alright. Instead, he let the sobs that shook her entire frame pour forth. Even the elder did not seem to have the strength to halt them. Every time she tried to breathe through it a deep mournful wail would frustrate her efforts. Brushing the hair from her eyes, he held her petite face in his hand. How long they sat like that, he could not know, but the sun was not far off. Her toil had exhausted her and after while she lay there quietly and unmoving. Pulling away, she wiped the tear tracks away with her hand and looked up at him.
“Do not ever attempt something like that again.” Her voice came out more steady and resolute. A warm small smile tugged at his lips as he took her hand in his. “Do not ever die again and I will not have to Amelia.”
Getting up, she stumbled once and caught the bedpost in her hand. He was up in a flash, his arm around her waist. Peering up into his dark Ochre coloured eyes, she saw the displeasure in them. “Amelia, you really must feed.”
She sighed in resignation. “I shall call the maid.” He was right, of course in this matter. Her appetite had not returned, but she couldn’t function like this. She reached for the phone. However, her eyes grew wider when she saw him undo the cuff of his black shirt and pull it back to expose his skin. Talking the phone from her hand, he eyes never left hers as he put in back down on the cradle.
“There is no need.”
Amelia’s eyes traced a line from the wrist he held out to her to his face. Her cells screamed out ‘yes’ and her heart thundered in her ears. His blood would surely taste better then the blood they manufactured. Slowly, unsurely, she stepped closer, taking his wrist in her cold hand. Her perfectly sculpted brow rose in question as if to ask whether he was sure. A warm smile tinted by darkness, as if he naturally belonged to something slightly twisted, erased any doubt. Her lips brushing against his wrist set his blood on fire and as the first prick of her growing fangs pierced his flesh, he reeled her in, pressing her back against his chest as one arm strongly draped around her to her pale lips. Her hands wrapped around his wrist gently as the first wave of his life force hit her tongue in a rich salty wave that was tinged by the taste of iron. Her breath caught in her throat as the heat of his blood spread through her body. Somehow, unlike most of them, he was always warm, his blood too, unlike hers that was cool and buzzed with energy and ancient strength. A low rumbling groan softly escaped his lips next to her ear as his other hand curved around her hip and slid across her navel to caress her silk encased body. Her hand came down to catch his, as if that motion was crossing a line or, perhaps, too much to handle. Perhaps each touch was dangerously close to cracking the ice she desperately clung to. Her fingers entwined with his as he nuzzled her neck lightly as she took what was rightly hers. Every bit of it. Forever.
Slowly, he led her to the chaise and laid them down, brushing the hair back from her face as spooned her and held her against him. The candles cast a shadow on the pale curve on her neck and lay his head gently against hers on the silk pillow.
“You need not carry your burden alone.” She drew back and lightly kissed his wrist as the wound healed over quickly. Her head rested on the pillow and she stared ahead. “Amelia, what are you afraid of?” There was no answer for a while. Then a heavy sigh escaped her lips as she briefly wiped the edge of her mouth with a delicate finger. “That they will come back. If I can come back, they surely can as well. What then?”
He kissed the top of her head. “They will not come back, Amelia.” This was their moment, a moment that seemed like redemption after going through the deepest pits of hell. Yet, at the same time, he felt tortured not being able to take away her pain. She said nothing because she did not believe him. “My love,” Amelia seemed to tense hearing those words, “let me make this easier for you. Give me that which haunts you. It is not easier for two souls to bare?”
Her voice was hardly above a whisper. “I could not do that to you.” It was enough that in his blood memories she saw the pain he was in when he thought her dead. It was enough to see how blindly he had made this journey at such a cost. The breath from his long sigh tickled her neck. “Come now, my Lady, it is still a record of your present rule, our triumphs, a full schematic of hell, lest we need to fight a war there again.” She chuckled dryly and said nothing. His full lips trailed along her neck to that soft spot cast in shadows. He could hear her heart pounding through her chest and it only served to quicken his own. His lips kissed her neck and then, in a quick draw, his elongated fangs sank into the marble-like flawlessness of her neck without her protest. The crimson river nearly made him groan out, but then the images did come, painful, tormented, anguished, angered, morose and mournful. Each new pain made him hold her closer to him as if he wished he could have prevented her from it. Any other vampire would have torn away, traumatized by what they would have seen. He would not dare. His hand traveled up her side and close to her lips, urging her to take what was hers-his life, his strength, his love.
Now he understood. No one, no elder, no vampire, no one, could go through all that and be alright the next day. She felt as if she were picking up the pieces of her soul, her daughter, and the coven again. Her blood said what her pride would not allow her to say:
I am just so tired.
His blood again caressed her throat. A light sigh escaped them at the same time as the circuit was completed. The feeling was akin to a great high, a merging of body, mind and soul on levels that no mortal could comprehend. If only for a moment, there was only one person there: one soul, one heart, one mind. They were stronger like this. He did the only thing he could think of doing. He concentrated on their triumphs, on their successes on her hopes that were his as well. From the moment he saw her plan for the coven it became his own. And then, he gave her a picture of the future as he saw it: glorious, strong and proud. Amelia drew away in a gasp, her head shifted back so quickly that he had to withdraw his kiss. Although she looked tired, her eyes sparkled again, gleaming from the images he showed her. Her dark eyes peered into his and forces beyond their control brought their lips together for a slow soft kiss.
It was bittersweet. She was too afraid to give in and he was too afraid too give up.
“Then drink and I shall leave you alone.”
“No, please take it away.”
“Amelia,” he said softly. His hard features were softened by the mounting concern in his eyes. “You can drink it or I can force you to drink it.” With that remark, she finally had quite enough. Her hand slammed into the glass and decanter, sending it flying against the Damask wall. “You will learn your place, Matayas. Now get out.”
He folded his arms across his chest and glanced at the walls before his deceptively calm gaze landed on her. “If you won’t drink it for yourself, then drink it for the coven.” It was like trying to bribe a child.
Her eyes glistened as they darted around the room trying to formulate the thoughts in her head, that one question that haunted all of her other questions.
“Why?” Now he was clearly worried. Why? Amelia got up slowly, holding onto the arm of the chair. It was only then that he realized how frail she looked. Amelia never looked frail. It was the first time that he saw her much weakened from a seemingly self- imposed hunger strike. Frightening. For a vampire, she just looked unwell. The anger vanished as his hand reflexively came out in an attempt to steady her should she fall. Christ.
“I ended up in hell, Matayas, right next to Vitkor, Lucian and Raze. In the same hell that held Marcus and Kraven. I shared their fate. What in Gods name, therefore, makes me think that I am ruling this coven justly? A person comes to the end of their life and they want to know that they changed the course for the better, not made it worse. I am no better than them. Like Viktor, I tried to kill my own child. Like Marcus, I tried to form the coven in my image. I am no better,” she whispered. “So yes, why?”
Matayas lightly shook his head. “Amelia, you were in an afterlife created by evil. If there is an afterlife governing this world then that, surely, was not representative of it. Besides, in a way, my lady, you are not meant to rule “justly”. You are meant to rule in such a way that will preserve this coven for the centuries to come. You have done that with more grace, strength and honour than Viktor ever could have hoped to, because he was in his very being corrupt. Your methods might beg some questions from others at times, but your intent, your plans have never been cruel or corrupt.”
Her eyes were glued to the floor. "In hell, Viktor said to me, "the road to hell is paved with good intentions". Is that not how the old saying goes? Is there not truth to that?"
Matayas walked over to the shelf where he had found the envelop with her designs for the covens future written on it. Her eyes followed him and she nearly turned white realizing what he had seen. Learned. It basically expressed her deepest desires without really saying a word.
“If you were like them and had only your interests at heart, would you have written this? Would you have so comprehensively formulated a strategy and plan to strengthen and make the coven great into the furthest future?”
Her hand flew to her chest. “That was not meant for you. You were not supposed to see that…yet.” He was in it, so very central to her plans and designs along with Selene and Lothoro and few others. A shadow of anger hinted at her eyes.
“I am sorry, it was not my intent to gaze upon your effects but…” What was he going to say? “When I thought you were…gone.” Her eyes went blank and unfocused as he took a step towards her. Drawing in a deep breath, he let it out slowly.
“So you saw my plans. In that case, what were you t-thinking?” Her voice broke and with one hand she steadied herself by holding the bedpost.
“My lady?” Confused, he waited for answer as his eyes swept over her thin frame. He should have kicked the door in and forced her to feed days ago. Days ago. She could hate him for eternity for it, but at least she would have been well. Or as well as she could be.
Her dull green eyes grew brighter in what he thought was anger. “What.Were.You.Thinking!” Her voice grew louder with each word. “Seeing my plans you allow Lothoro, Selene and yourself to undertake such a dangerous journey, which you had no reason to believe would succeed! And after my warnings, you all blaze into the mouth of hell without concern for the rest of the house!” Her body trembled in its rage as her arm flailed at him. “What would have happened if you fell? And then if that wasn’t enough, you martyred yourselves!”
Matayas considered what she said and remembered all to well the emptiness he felt when she was gone. “Your service is to the coven Amelia, my service is to you. Without you here there was no reason for me being here.”
He left out the implications of what that meant, but it still served to infuriate her. “That is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard and you know it.”
“Perhaps. Why dwell on it now? It is done and we are all still here.”
He never saw her eyes turn that intimidating shade of green before. Her soft footsteps betrayed how quickly she turned on him. Despite her weakness, his vision still swayed as her hand lashed across his face in a ferocious smack. The heat stung his cheek as his head turned with the force. His brows furrowed. He had never been hit by her before. Slowly, his head trailed back to look back at her, just in time to catch her other “weak” hand as it sought to strike him. “Why dwell on it,” she hissed out, “why dwell on it!” He didn’t know how her voice came out so low yet so scathing at the same time, but her next words boomed out loudly. “Because I have already lived through the fear of thinking you and the others dead! Because I have already buried a knight and many Death Dealers! Because I watched you die! Because I have already lost my daughter once! Because this coven was already destroyed once! Because we have already lost enough! Because…because it is not only this coven that would suffer your absence! I am SICK of living in the land of constant DEATH. That is why I will dwell on it!”
The back of her hand flew to her mouth as her face cracked and her knees buckled. They slid down to the ground as he caught her effortlessly. The deep sob that racked her body came down in a throaty wail as the tears slide down her face. All he could think was ‘finally’. Finally. He couldn’t remember the last time she broke, but he couldn’t remember the last time she had not been through hell literally and figuratively so completely for the last few years. Let us not mentioned the general pattern of the last few centuries.
Because it is not only this coven that would suffer your absence.
He held her close against his chest, lightly stroking her hair. He didn’t hush her or tell her that it was alright. Instead, he let the sobs that shook her entire frame pour forth. Even the elder did not seem to have the strength to halt them. Every time she tried to breathe through it a deep mournful wail would frustrate her efforts. Brushing the hair from her eyes, he held her petite face in his hand. How long they sat like that, he could not know, but the sun was not far off. Her toil had exhausted her and after while she lay there quietly and unmoving. Pulling away, she wiped the tear tracks away with her hand and looked up at him.
“Do not ever attempt something like that again.” Her voice came out more steady and resolute. A warm small smile tugged at his lips as he took her hand in his. “Do not ever die again and I will not have to Amelia.”
Getting up, she stumbled once and caught the bedpost in her hand. He was up in a flash, his arm around her waist. Peering up into his dark Ochre coloured eyes, she saw the displeasure in them. “Amelia, you really must feed.”
She sighed in resignation. “I shall call the maid.” He was right, of course in this matter. Her appetite had not returned, but she couldn’t function like this. She reached for the phone. However, her eyes grew wider when she saw him undo the cuff of his black shirt and pull it back to expose his skin. Talking the phone from her hand, he eyes never left hers as he put in back down on the cradle.
“There is no need.”
Amelia’s eyes traced a line from the wrist he held out to her to his face. Her cells screamed out ‘yes’ and her heart thundered in her ears. His blood would surely taste better then the blood they manufactured. Slowly, unsurely, she stepped closer, taking his wrist in her cold hand. Her perfectly sculpted brow rose in question as if to ask whether he was sure. A warm smile tinted by darkness, as if he naturally belonged to something slightly twisted, erased any doubt. Her lips brushing against his wrist set his blood on fire and as the first prick of her growing fangs pierced his flesh, he reeled her in, pressing her back against his chest as one arm strongly draped around her to her pale lips. Her hands wrapped around his wrist gently as the first wave of his life force hit her tongue in a rich salty wave that was tinged by the taste of iron. Her breath caught in her throat as the heat of his blood spread through her body. Somehow, unlike most of them, he was always warm, his blood too, unlike hers that was cool and buzzed with energy and ancient strength. A low rumbling groan softly escaped his lips next to her ear as his other hand curved around her hip and slid across her navel to caress her silk encased body. Her hand came down to catch his, as if that motion was crossing a line or, perhaps, too much to handle. Perhaps each touch was dangerously close to cracking the ice she desperately clung to. Her fingers entwined with his as he nuzzled her neck lightly as she took what was rightly hers. Every bit of it. Forever.
Slowly, he led her to the chaise and laid them down, brushing the hair back from her face as spooned her and held her against him. The candles cast a shadow on the pale curve on her neck and lay his head gently against hers on the silk pillow.
“You need not carry your burden alone.” She drew back and lightly kissed his wrist as the wound healed over quickly. Her head rested on the pillow and she stared ahead. “Amelia, what are you afraid of?” There was no answer for a while. Then a heavy sigh escaped her lips as she briefly wiped the edge of her mouth with a delicate finger. “That they will come back. If I can come back, they surely can as well. What then?”
He kissed the top of her head. “They will not come back, Amelia.” This was their moment, a moment that seemed like redemption after going through the deepest pits of hell. Yet, at the same time, he felt tortured not being able to take away her pain. She said nothing because she did not believe him. “My love,” Amelia seemed to tense hearing those words, “let me make this easier for you. Give me that which haunts you. It is not easier for two souls to bare?”
Her voice was hardly above a whisper. “I could not do that to you.” It was enough that in his blood memories she saw the pain he was in when he thought her dead. It was enough to see how blindly he had made this journey at such a cost. The breath from his long sigh tickled her neck. “Come now, my Lady, it is still a record of your present rule, our triumphs, a full schematic of hell, lest we need to fight a war there again.” She chuckled dryly and said nothing. His full lips trailed along her neck to that soft spot cast in shadows. He could hear her heart pounding through her chest and it only served to quicken his own. His lips kissed her neck and then, in a quick draw, his elongated fangs sank into the marble-like flawlessness of her neck without her protest. The crimson river nearly made him groan out, but then the images did come, painful, tormented, anguished, angered, morose and mournful. Each new pain made him hold her closer to him as if he wished he could have prevented her from it. Any other vampire would have torn away, traumatized by what they would have seen. He would not dare. His hand traveled up her side and close to her lips, urging her to take what was hers-his life, his strength, his love.
Now he understood. No one, no elder, no vampire, no one, could go through all that and be alright the next day. She felt as if she were picking up the pieces of her soul, her daughter, and the coven again. Her blood said what her pride would not allow her to say:
I am just so tired.
His blood again caressed her throat. A light sigh escaped them at the same time as the circuit was completed. The feeling was akin to a great high, a merging of body, mind and soul on levels that no mortal could comprehend. If only for a moment, there was only one person there: one soul, one heart, one mind. They were stronger like this. He did the only thing he could think of doing. He concentrated on their triumphs, on their successes on her hopes that were his as well. From the moment he saw her plan for the coven it became his own. And then, he gave her a picture of the future as he saw it: glorious, strong and proud. Amelia drew away in a gasp, her head shifted back so quickly that he had to withdraw his kiss. Although she looked tired, her eyes sparkled again, gleaming from the images he showed her. Her dark eyes peered into his and forces beyond their control brought their lips together for a slow soft kiss.
It was bittersweet. She was too afraid to give in and he was too afraid too give up.
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no subject
Date: 2007-10-10 03:29 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-10-10 03:40 pm (UTC)Cry? But...but...no one died in this one! It was like nice and stuff.
Woman you confuse me. ;)
no subject
Date: 2007-10-10 03:49 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-10-10 06:16 pm (UTC)Sweet and mushy (gaaaaag)....YOU SEE!!!!! The evil does not always win.