"What had been its lesson? That in all the world no two souls contained the same secret, the same gift of devotion or abandon; that in a common child, a wounded child, he had found a blending of sadness and simple grace that would forever break his heart?"
-The Queen of the Damned
**Marius**
Midnight. The Night Island sang, an endless melody of bustling humanity and never sleeping activity. Bright lights and glitter. Splashing fountains and endless parades of unending merchandise.
But if you went far enough, out into the areas forbidden to the noisy mortals and hidden from prying eyes, you could find peace. The beach, great swaths of silvery white under the moonlight, forever washed by the black waves. The water was cool against his bare feet, it lapped around his ankles and swept behind him, erasing his footprints, erasing any trace of him. The sand was soft and yielding to his steps.
Marius sighed, running his fingers through his hair and letting the night breeze ruffle the short clipped strands. He had left the blazer behind in the sand, along with his shoes. The pantlegs were rolled up to his knees, the sleeves of the deep red turtleneck pushed up. Stooping, he let the waves wash over his hands, the spray flecking cool specks across his face.
He had spoken to Lestat. Hopeless, of course, but he had gone and done it anyways. Try to lure him away from that damndable book that Lestat was so engrossed in. "Burn the book," Marius had said.
"No," was the answer. Just that. No. Of course. But he had had to try.
And then Lestat had surprised him. "Let me ask you a question," he had said, that impish smile hovering around his lips. "That painting of yours, The Temptation of Amadeo, the one in the Talamasca crypt..."
Marius had felt a chill go down his back. "Yes?"
"Wouldn't you like to have it back?"
Shudder of real fear. But he had answered lightly, as though it were a joke, laughing a little. "Ye gods, no. It's a dreary thing, really. My black period, you might say." He had shrugged, forcing himself to smile. "But I do wish they'd take it out of the damned cellar. You know, hang it in the front hall? Some decent place."
Lestat had laughed. And Marius had felt a chill too deep to be called fear- it was something much closer to foreboding, the certain foreshadowing of what he knew was going to happen.
"Lestat," he had snapped. "You leave the Talamasca alone!"
"Of course!" Lestat had replied with a shrug and a smile. The picture of innocence.
"I mean it, Lestat," Marius warned. "I'm quite serious. Do NOT meddle with the Talamasca. Do we understand each other, you and I?"
And Lestat had smiled, and agreed, and invited him to go for a walk. Marius had declined.
Lestat was probably on his way to one of the Talamasca Motherhouses right now.
Marius sighed, moving his hands through the sea water as it rushed through his fingers, slipping from his grasp. He loved Lestat, he truly did. But sometimes...
Well. It was out of his hands, now. There was nothing he could do. He rose, shaking water from his hands, and continued to walk slowly down the empty beach, enjoying the temporary solitude and peace.
**Armand**
::What am I?::
The question whispered around him, as a sea breeze. ::Am I man or child? Human or not? Alive or dead?::
::What am I?::
He could not answer the questions that danced through his mind. They had not occured to him for centuries. This pain... it was rebirth, surely. But into what? Child of Marius? Father of Daniel? Or something as yet new and undiscovered within himself... a secret still locked within his heart.
::We are as timeless as the stone and sea. Yet one will destroy the other in time. So too shall we be destroyed. It is inevitable. Has my time come at last?::
"Am I at last free to die?" he whispered, the breeze carrying his words away across the ocean.
**Marius**
Shells. Small ones, as tiny as the fingernail of his smallest finger. Marius had collected a few, picking them from the sand, perfect delicate little conical whirls of color. Nature's sculptures. He had rinsed them in the surf and turned them over between his fingers, marveling at the tiny little things. Deceptively strong for their size. ::There is a lesson to be learned in that,:: he mused, pocketing the small shells.
This area of the beach was rockier, the sand giving way here and there to small rocks and then to large ones, boulders buried to their shoulders in the soft sand around them, home to all manner of things; long strings of kelp, the white encrustation of barnacles, tiny sand colored scampering crabs and pools that mirrored the life of the ocean in miniature with their tiny flower-like anenomies and flickering fish. Marius circled these, pausing to peer into their depths, to study the little marvels of the sea so laid bare by the low tide. To dip his fingers into those still pools and feel the feathery touch of the little things that lived there, only waiting for the great rush of the ocean to overcome them again.
He could come to understand Gabrielle's love of nature, he thought. That fiery one, so like and unlike her son... but she had a point. Out here, untroubled by anything but the low murmur of the ceaseless waves, unlit by anything but the moon and star above, he could relax. Be himself, all shields dropped. Think.
He had gone another twenty feet before he realized he wasn't alone in his thoughts.
No sense of the other, no presense at all. Nothing. But Marius knew. He would always know.
Marius closed his eyes, opening them slowly. He was there, sitting on a rock, some ways ahead. His legs drawn up, slender arms wrapped about his knees as he sat, looking out to the sea. The breeze played with the loose auburn curls, lifting them in gentle fingers.
Love. To see him, now, forever, and always, would be the embodiement of love to Marius. Tragic, heartbroken love.
The Temptation of Amadeo. So easy to see it in his mind's eye, that love captured in pigment and oil. And here it was again, centuries later, and the picture was unchanged. His broken and hurt young one, his beautiful one. Amadeo.
Suddenly, the silence was oppressive. And, with slow strides, Marius forced himself to continue down that lonely stretch of beach to where that silent form sat.
**Armand**
He couldn't be sure if Marius had heard his last statement, spoken aloud. But it hardly mattered. Within the deceptive stillness of eyes and limbs, a raging torrent of emotion poured forth. Marius was coming. Had come upon him nearly unawares, in fact. As soon as he realized he was no longer alone Armand stood, seeking out the intruder, emotions carefully masked behind an invisable shield of *distance*, as though he were utterly removed from the experience. Even when he determined who it was that had discovered his retreat, the shield remained in place. The habit of 450 years was not to be broken in a single evening.
A slight catch of breath, a slight quickening of pulse, were the only indications of the overwhelming emotions within. How much he wanted to reach out, to touch, to once again verify that Marius was alive. Was not a sweetly remembered, tormenting dream. And yet the gulf that seperated them was far greater than the centuries past.
He had cut his hair into a modern style. His pants were rolled up, as though he had been splashing about in the warm shallows. The combined image was that of a much younger man than his physical 40. Armand noted everything, every single detail he instantly committed to memory. He wanted to take it with him. "Just in case."
Marius raised his eyebrow and he realized that, once again, he had spoken aloud.
**Marius**
Marius halted before the rock, his feet buried in the soft sands. Armand had risen, stood before him, so cool with that undercurrent of tension. Wary, yet calm. He had not always been that way, and it hurt Marius to see that wariness in him now.
Yet, he himself had straightened, put on decorum and calm with every step he had taken across that beach towards this rock. He knew he was doing it, assuming the mask of the elder, the father, and yet he couldn't help it. How many years had he played that role for the coven? The keeper of Those Who Must Be Kept. Even now, with this, his most beloved child, he could not drop those masks.
Grave restraint. It kept him from reaching out to take those pale hands in his own, kept him from gathering that slender form into his arms. He would have, once. Memory flashed though him, sharp as a knife blade. This boy, running to him down the marble steps, brown eyes dancing, laughter bubbling on his lips. Marius had swept him up, covered his face in tender kisses, his own laughter ringing out as he drowned in that love.
And now they stood, two adults, strangers with a dimly remembered past between them, like the touching of a similar dream. Yet their eyes devoured one another, searching, studying, drinking in every little detail like a man dying of thirst would drink in the pure freshness of spring water.
"Just in case," Armand whispered softly, his low voice echoing Marius' own thoughts.
Marius focused on his face, sharply, seeing the despair there. The pain. He wanted to soothe away that troubled expression, bring back the laughter to those desolate eyes. To heal all of the pain, take it upon himself and leave this loved one clean, absolved of all the centuries and transported back to the youth he had never had.
He reached out before he knew it, before that terrible ingrained restraint could stop him, and gently touched Armand's hand. Felt the cool skin, so much softer then his own. "Amadeo," he whispered, the name flowing like liquid silk over his tongue. "Tell me." Give me the pain, and let me bear the burden for you...
**Armand**
Had Marius lashed out, smashed him into the stone beneath their feet, it would not have been as painful. Armand flinched sharply when Marius touched his hand, but forced himself to remain still, eyes wide. Then the name... Armand could feel the platform upon which his reason stood crumble to dust. The name Marius had chosen for him, so long ago. The nameless boy from the brothels, elevated to the Chosen of God. Marius had been no less that his savior then, the subject of the purest form of devotion and worship his child's heart knew how to bestow. Such were the memories invoked by such a simple word that it nearly brought Armand to his knees.
And yet, he could voice none of it. The language required was foreign to his tongue. He could do nothing about the tears which sprang unexpectedly to sting his eyes, any more than he could prevent the deep shudder which ran through him as Marius looked upon him with such compassion. All he could say, his voice coming out in a choaked whisper from his too tight throat, was the only word his mind would allow beyond his formadible walls and defenses. The only word which did not invoke the blistering pain. "Padrone..."
He saw Marius' eyes widen, then suddenly they were in each other's arms, holding tight, two victims drowing in the night but for each other.
**Marius**
Armand. In his arms, held tightly, sinking in the feel and scent of him. Marius closed his eyes, clinging to this moment. That word, spoken in that voice that had never changed, never would change, since when he had last heard it so long ago... "Padrone." Shudders running through him, the past crashing down upon him in a wave that battered his shields to nothing. Lost in a pair of dark eyes.
He brushed back the soft curls, let them wrap softly around his fingers. They fit into one another's arms, so familiar and yet so new at the same time. He was fighting back tears, feeling the sting of them in his eyes, the tightness in his chest. A perfect blend of guilt and pain and love, bittersweet and intense. As he had only nights before, he held Armand, kissed his face gently, his breath catching in his throat and pulled raggedly from faltering lungs. "Love you," he whispered. "Always love you." The words he has said that other night, no less true now. He could feel the shudder run through the slender back beneath his hands, and another shudder ran through him in sympathy.
Armand's face was turned in, against his chest, his hands clenched in Marius' shirt. But Marius knew without seeing the tears that trembled on the dark lace of those lashes, looked through them himself. He smoothed back the tumbled curls, brushed gentle fingers over the smooth cheek. Long ago, holding him like this, soft reassurances in the night as this most beautiful of boys had woken, frightened and crying from nightmare dreams. Marius had sat with him, comforted him, watched over his sleep and soothed the pain. "Don't cry," he whispered, as he had then. "Shh, Amadeo. Don't cry. Tell me the pain." He pressed a kiss to Armand's brow, his breath caressing the cool skin. "Let me help."
**Armand**
"Tell me the pain. Let me help." If any words could have brought Armand back to himself, surely those were it.
"The pain died long ago, as did all else." he said softly, the tears drying, retreating. "There is no pain anymore. There is nothing." And yet, it felt so *good* to be held, to hold. He would not allow it. To give in now would be his ruin. Like smoke he slipped from Marius' arms and stepped a few paces back, to the edge of the rock.
So many questions, and none of them important, suddenly. He turned to look out across the water in frustration. "What now?" He didn't know if he asked for Marius, personally, for himself, or for the two of them. He had ceased having the answers to anything long ago.
**Marius**
One moment he was there, the next he was gone. Slipping through his hands as the water had, just as unholdable. And his absence was painful, as though a wound had been ripped open, something removed that he had lived so long without he could barely remember what it was to have it, and yet not having it was sheer agony.
Armand stepped back, looked away. Marius slowly, rather tiredly, seated himself at Armand's feet on the cool stone. "I don't know," he said softly. "I don't know what comes next. I don't even know where to begin."
He remembered how he had wished so strongly, only nights before, that they might find a quiet place, a place to talk endlessly, sharing all that they had not shared over the years.
And now, here they were. And the words would not come. All of the words were too awkward, too painful. They froze in his throat, choked him.
He started to reach out again, and then stopped. Let his hand drop to the hard, uncaring stone.
"It can't all be dead," he whispered. "If it were, this would not hurt so much. If there was nothing left, I would not feel this pain." He bowed his head, trying to hold back the tears.
**Armand**
He settled himself gracefully next to his creator, at once curiously still, yet wildly animated within. "It is not dead, any more than we are dead." Armand said softly. "Are we dead?"
"No." Marius assured at once. "Net yet."
Armand considered this. "Then, it is sleeping." he said at last, feeling his way. It would be so easy to retreat completely, to allow the hurt and pain which threatened upon the waking of so many forgotten emotions to simply wash over him. He was sorely tempted.
But finally the answer came to him, so simple he nearly laughed. "Life is pain." he concluded. "I cannot die yet. It still hurts too much." He was a little surprised by his own candor. He did not voice such thoughts even with Daniel, his beloved child. In fact, the last time he had shared himself, really, had not been with Daniel at all. It had been with a laughing, golden haired demon. That rejection had been the last, for Armand had never placed himself in a position to be rejected in such a way since.
"Do you wish to die, Amadeo?" Marius asked quietly.
He considered this as well. "I think the better question is, perhaps, do I wish to live. I have come to no conclusion regarding this issue. I seem to have lost my motivation for the whole of it." The words were coming easier now, which frightened him. He still did not believe that he spoke to Marius, his creator, but rather to a being in whom he might be able to place trust. Perhaps. It was a house of cards he built this assumption upon, and well he knew it. For Marius, and it *was* Marius who sat so gravely still next to him on the cold rock, had dealt him the most painful blow of his five centuries of existance. The temptation to lose himself at once, forever, in the long remembered comfort ofhis embrace was tempered by the memory of that pain, the abandonment, his consignment into the pit of darkest hell by the Devil's minions. So lost was he in these thoughts that Armand barely heard the next question.
"Is not Daniel motivation for you to live?"
Armand finally met his eyes. "Daniel is my primary reason to end my life." He turned away almost at once, looking to the sea once more. "My beautiful boy... my lovely one. I killed him. He..." Armand could not continue. He had not spoken these words to another, and the emotions triggered threatened to consume him. His face was a rock solid mask of non-emotion. Even his eyes were as cold as ice.
Marius reached out again, this time actually making contact. He gently stroked his hair away from his shoulder, until it hung down Armand's back. "Well I know this pain, Amadeo." he said, his voice the barest whisper. "But consider. You saved him. I have heard the tale, from Daniel himself. He was dying by his own hand. You gave him a new life. And he adores it, and you, in equal measure. Surely there is some comfort in that."
"If there were not, I would have been dead long ago."
**Marius**
"But the comfort is not enough, is it?" Marius mused softly. He looked away, now, but his whispered words were meant for Armand alone. "You fear the comfort will end, that he will grow to resent you, and it will all have been a mistake. And then you will truly wish to die when that love ceases to be, and all there is left is the emptiness and the pain. But you continue, because you can do nothing else, because you do not know HOW to do anything else. And life will become death and it seems that death can surely be no different then the pain that is life, and so you go on, in silence, forever..." His whispered words trailed away as he looked out over the ocean.
Armand looked at him, his expression still, but something flared, briefly, in his dark eyes. "Is that what it is like, now? Are you telling me what you feel, or only what you fear?"
Marius forced his expression into blankness, let the mask of control slip over him like the pulling on of soft gloves worn to exactly the right shape and fit. What pain he felt, he buried, as deeply as he could. Yet, he could not refuse to answer. And he could not answer falsely.
"When you see hate in the eyes of a child you have made," he said, slowly, steadily, "it is the blow of death to your heart. When that child turns away from you, flinches from your touch, and you can see the recrimination in their face, the anger and pain in their soul, you want to die. There is no pain in this world like that one, to know that what you gave in love has been rejected, and gives nothing but pain to the one you gave it to." He took a slow, deep breath, forcing himself to look back to Armand. "Is that why you take so little comfort in Daniel, spend so little time with him now? Because you fear that pain, Amadeo?"
**Armand**
So complete was his *stillness* that Armand might have been carved from the very rock upon which they sat. "Truth, in your words." he said at long last. "Truth that I know. There is no other path. Only the pain. The pain of what went before, and the knowledge of the pain which is to come. So, then, have I assumed the mantle of my creator. So, too, have I burdened my child with my pain. The day that Daniel was born was the day he truly died. My fear condemns him to a life of pain. As your fear condemned me." He delivered these words in a low monotone, as though he spoke to the wind, unaware of the presence of another.
"And yet, I have not the courage to end this suffering. To break the circle. Even in this, I have failed." His words hung in the air, then faded away like mist.
**Marius**
"Failed?" Marius asked. "In what way? How does this become your failure, if it is my fear that condems you? How can you find fault when you have merely been caught, the center link of a chain that begins and ends with me? If there is any fault to be found, it is mine."
He reached out, brushing Armand's hand lightly. "Amadeo, let it go. Let me bear the guilt, if there must be guilt, for I have hurt you in ways that no one should be hurt. But let go the fear, and the pain, and have your life with Daniel. Surely the two of you deserve that happiness together, deserve to make a new beginning." His voice was low, but urgent. "Let the crimes of the past remain in the past, and let his youth, his fledgling love, guide you to the peace that should be yours. He needs your love, now, and you need his, and out of that start can be born the type of love that will last through the millenia! Don't you see?"
Marius caught his breath, astonished at his own words, the feeling that washed through him. Softly, pleading, he continued. "Don't let the chains of past pain bind you. If you live in the past, you become that past, and the pain will drive you to the exclusion of all else. And I can't bear to see that pain in your eyes, ragazzo, I would do anything to take it's weight from you."
**Armand**
He closed his eyes against a fresh wave. He hadn't thought he could endure more than he already had. His name was the worst of it, but the nicknames were nearly as bad, in the tone of voice so calm, so reasonable, as though he had only to make a simple leap of logic, and all would magically be revealed. The healing of centuries, accomplished in moments, if only he could simply agree to let go. Of course. So simple.
The first sob caught him completely by surprise. The second followed so quickly that he was still in shock from the first, and unable to contain it. By the time the third shook him, they had gathered power, quite beyond his control. They shattered through him, destroying all in their path, his walls, his defenses, his very self, until there was nothing left but the exquisite, diamond edged pain.
How Marius' arms came to be around him he did not know. He wept until no more tears would come, then lay unmoving, listening to the waves as they gently washed upon the shore, and the heartbeat of the one being in the world he still trusted, in spite of all. He could not speak. It was as though he had forgotten how. Motion was quite beyond him as well. In the peace which follows such cataclysmic outpourings of emotion, all he could do was rest quietly in Marius' arms, and wait for the judgement of his creator.
**Marius**
The tears had wrenched at him, more so because he could not let go enough to shed his own. Not when Armand needed him so, and needed him to be strong. But his heart within him beat a ragged pattern, wrought with grief, and his chest was so tight he could scarce draw breath. "Forgive me," he whispered, wiping away the tears and soothing back the tumbled auburn curls. "Forgive me for causing you this pain. I'm so sorry."
He held him until the tears had ceased, feeling as drained and numb in the wake of such emotion as Armand looked. "Forgive me," he whispered again. "I drive you to this, don't I? I make you hurt, when you thought you couldn't any more. I bind you to the past, bring back memories that you can't escape from. I'm so sorry." There were tears in his eyes but he couldn't release them. He couldn't breath, could barely see. He had to leave, while he retained the self will to do so. "Forgive me," he gasped softly. "I never meant to hurt you. I'm sorry." He pulled his hands away from Armand, forced himself to back away, scramble to his feet in the cooling sand. "Forgive me," he repeated raggedly. "I'll go."
**Armand**
Armand suddenly stood, moving at such a speed that even a vampire might not have tracked his motion. And within his eyes burned silent knowledge. "You would leave me, now?" Finally the bitterness, the emotions long supressed, rose to the surface.
**Marius**
Marius flinched as though he had been slapped, physically gasping. Armand's words hit him like a blow. He stopped, only a pace away, looking down to hide the tears that trembled in his eyes.
"I don't know what to do for you," he protested. "I have already hurt you by abandoning you, and now you say I will hurt you again if I leave. But I hurt you by staying, too. What can I do?"
He slowly slumped to his knees in the sand, pressing his hands to his face, unable to halt the tears that crept, betraying, down his cheeks. "I never meant to hurt you," he pleaded softly, his voice breaking as the sobs tried to catch at his breath. "And now there is nothing I can do that will not cause you pain! To see that in your eyes, Amadeo... that is HELL. I am drowning in it, and I cannot see a way out for any of us.
"When we spoke, that other night, I said that all I could believe in was our love. And now... all I can see is the pain." His voice broke off, drowned in the sob. He swallowed it back, gasping, though the effort hurt.
**Armand**
He wanted to be still once again, to consider his actions and all the possible consequences. But to see Marius on his knees, weeping before him... that above all else he could not tolerate. Anything else, but not that. Armand slowly walked forward, until he stood in front of Marius. Then he slowly reached out, took his face between his hands. At first he resisted, hiding the tears, or perhaps unwilling to meet his eyes. He increased the pressure, just slightly, urging him to look up, to meet his eyes. He waited patiently until Marius gathered enough strength to look up. Then, when he was sure he had his attention, Armand spoke.
"Pain is all I have known. All else has been taken from me. Never did I fight for anything but my own survival. It was all I understood. Nothing else was important to me. Padrone, I died when you left me. I was born again through Lestat. At the time I thought that perhaps you had sent him to me, wearing a red velvet cloak so I would be sure to recognize your messenger. He destroyed my world, and brought me into the new age. And then he gave me Louis. Louis gave me Daniel. Daniel has given me life, even as I gave him death. It is a debt I am uncomfortable with."
"And now this, Padrone." He spoke with the calm sincerity of one who had nothing left to lose. "Akasha dead, the coven gathered around the Prince of Darkness. I can not remember this happening since the Theatre burned. Perhaps it is a sign. Perhaps it is a time of new beginnings." He sighed. "To look into my eyes, to see my pain is hell for you?" He laughed shortly. "That is my *home* - my world. But for you, my creator, who still believes in love, I will offer you a gift. One I have only given one other." He took a deep breath, then closed his eyes. When he opened them again... Marius frowned, searching for the difference. At first he could not pinpoint any single change, yet something significant had just occured. "For you, Padrone. For this one chance. I shall offer you a gift."
And suddenly Marius understood. There was not a wall between them. Those shields that the tears had torn through, Armand now deliberately dropped. Defenses down, he slowly moved to take Marius' hands within his own. His smile was tentative, but it was very real. It could not mask the fear which lurked just behind his eyes. "I will try not to hurt you again tonight." he said softly, "If you will not leave me."
**Marius**
"I won't leave you," Marius breathed. "I swear it, Amadeo, my beautiful one." Another sob escaped him, but he no longer had the strength to fight it. The tears came, hot and wet, spilling down his cheeks in a silent flood that he could not control. There were so many things he wanted to say and didn't know how, couldn't find the words, and in the end he held to Armand's hands, gripping those slender fingers between his own and letting the grief well forth in a slow bursting bubble that washed over him like the waves upon the beach, battering and impossible to deny or halt.
**Armand**
It was war, pure and simple, between the terror of rejection, and the hope that Marius was sincere. The desire for that hope frightened him. However, the fear... began to spark anger. Within Armand a terrible emotional battle waged on. He did not try to hide this struggle. Rather he simply stepped closer, pulling Marius to him. Marius wrapped his arms around his waist as Armand stroked his hair, shorter than he was used to, away from his face.
Finally, his tears spent, Marius sank into the sand, gently pulling Armand with him. Armand followed willingly, settling next to him, Marius' arm draped around his shoulder, holding him close. The stars blazed overhead as the warm tropical breeze caressed their cool skin. Marius sighed deeply.
"I sense a pattern." Armand said. He tilted his head to slant a look at Marius. He did not quite grin. "If the next phase is a laughing fit..."
"We'll both do the honorable thing and leap from the rock into the sea." Marius finished, smiling.
Armand nodded. Then a thought occured to him. "Marius?"
"Hum?"
"I love you."
**Marius**
Shudder of pure sensation, as though the words themselves stroked light fingers along his nerves. How long had it been since he had heard those words, how many years had he dreamed of them in his solitude?
And to hear them from Armand was sheer emotion, little ripples running through his spine. His breath caught, and then he pulled in a small gasp and held it, just treasuring the flavor of those words as they echoed through him.
Armand had turned to look at him, his gaze almost puzzled, but Marius pressed a gentle finger to Armand's lips, shaking his head. Unsteadily, he leaned foreward, pressing a light kiss to Armand's brow. "I love you," he whispered, his breath brushing the pale skin. "I always have and I always will."
**Armand**
He couldn't help it. He drew away from Marius' warning finger and smiled again, just slightly. "That didn't hurt at all. Terrifying, but not painful." Armand waited to see if Marius would laugh. When he did, the soft sound rumbling unexpectedly from his chest, his smile grew wider. Then, slowly, he leaned forward again. His eyes never left Marius' as he lightly brushed his lips against the corner of that sculpted mouth. His smile faded as he drew back again, only inches this time. He licked his lips, searching for a taste. "That didn't hurt either." he whispered.
**Marius**
Marius reached out, tracing light fingertips over the smooth curve of Armand's cheek, his jaw and the soft line of his parted lips. "Have I ever hurt you?" he whispered, his voice husky. "When we are together, like this, are the only times I haven't hurt you, I think."
"That was then," Armand replied softly.
"And I don't mean for it to change, now," Marius answered. But even as he said it he knew it for a lie, for to take things any further was to risk that hurt, and willpower alone had never been enough to pull him from the sweet siren call of Armand's beauty. "Just once," he whispered, softly, almost to himself. And then he leaned forward slowly, closing the distance between them and giving Armand time to draw away before catching his lips in a deeper kiss.
**Armand**
Armand sighed in body and spirit, then surrendered to the warmth of Marius' kiss. Almost at once he was overwhelmed by the sensations he was unable to shield himself from. Marius' self imposed burden of guilt staggered Armand - that someone would care enough about him to torture themselves in that manner was utterly astounding. In fact... that would classify most of the events of late.
His mind whirling, he eased out of the kiss. Marius blinked, then brushed his hair from his face. "What is it?"
"Nothing. It's just... too much. Too soon. It's" Armand struggled for truth, settling for "It's too fast, just yet."
Marius looked repentant at once. "I'm sor..."
Armand reached up to silence him. "Don't apologise. Please. You've done nothing to warrent it. I simply need time to think." He looked around suddenly. "Perhaps it is time to return to the others...?" He began walking down the beach. After a few steps he turned, his head tilted to one side in an obvious invitation. Smiling, Marius joined him.
**Marius**
They returned to the Night Island proper, and the villa. To the companionship of the others. By unspoken consent they said nothing, the reunion still too fragile to be acknowledged before the eyes of the others. Marius went to check on Pandora, found her seated at the grand piano, her pale slender hands slowly and flawlessly picking out a soft and beautiful melody. She did not look up, or acknowledge his presense. He stood and listened to her for a time, and then retreated to the next room where the others sat.
Daniel, Armand's child, his body still humming with energy and his eyes still looking at the world around him with wonder, lay sprawled on the carpet of the floor with little modern earphones on, the wires feeding the sounds of some mortal band straight into his head. Marius could hear the tiny music if he listened closely. Gabrielle was out on the balcony, he could feel her, but she liked her solitude and he left her undisturbed.
The room was lit only by candlelight and the glow which was the lights of Miami beyond the windows. Soft light, comforting to the eyes. Marius seated himself in one of the leather chairs, leaning back into it's soft embrace with a sigh.
Khayman and Armand were speaking softly and when Marius sat down Khayman looked up. Such an old one, looking at him almost gave Marius chills, too see such an eternity in another's eyes. And such life, at the same time, as though the soul behind those liquid dark eyes would defy time itself. His voice was soft, gentle as it always was. "Louis has gone."
Marius started a little, some of the surprise showing on his face. "Gone? Where to?"
"New Orleans," Armand said. He was taking out an ivory inlaid chessboard, setting it out on a table and placing the equisitely carved little playing pieces on it. Chess was something he and Khayman indulged in, usually with the loss going to Armand, but he continued to perservere.
Marius pursed his lips thoughtfully. "Lestat should know," he said.
"Yes," Armand replied, looking up for a brief moment to meet Marius' eyes. There was a spark of warmth in his gaze that made Marius' heart leap. "I've already called my pilot."
The words took a moment to sink in, and then Marius laughed softly. They were of one mind on the matter, obviously. Settling himself into the chair, he picked up the nearby folded mass of the Miami paper and folded it open, scanning it idylly as Armand reached out to make his first move in the game.
It was a little less then an hour later when Lestat returned. Daniel had switched to Bach, and half of Armand's pieces were missing from the board, gathered in a neat little row beside Khayman's hand. It didn't seem to bother Armand, though, as he merely stared at the board with a kind of timeless patience and intense study. Pandora still played, though she had slowed, the melody becoming a wandering, timeless cascade of notes with no end or beginning.
Lestat's return was like a brush of chill air through the room, a little bit of discordance. He couldn't help it, of course. He was simply too tightly strung, with too much on his mind. Well, better if he had something to do. Marius could only hope that it might keep him out of trouble.
He went to the balcony first, to greet his mother. Then he came back, his saphirre gaze sweeping the room and it's occupants. Without looking up from the paper that he was not really reading, Marius said "Louis is gone."
Lestat's gaze snapped back to him, his attention quite thoroughly caught. "What do you mean, gone?"
"To New Orleans," Armand said, reaching out to place his finger on a knight. He tilted the piece in first one direction, then another, and then withdrew his hand with a little shake of his head. "To that flat you had there. The one where Jesse saw Claudia."
"The plane's waiting," Marius added.
"My man can drive you down to the landing strip," Armand continued, his casual tone implying that this was nothing out of the ordinary.
Lestat's mouth had dropped open just a little and his gaze was incredulous. "What is this?" he demanded. "Why are you two being so helpful? Why should I go get Louis?"
"I think you should bring him back," Marius suggested, supressing a smile. "It's not good, his being in that old flat in New Orleans."
"I think you should go out and do something," Armand said firmly. "You've been holed up here too long." He reached out and moved his bishop, setting the piece down with little tap.
Lestat stared at them a moment longer, and then let out a bark of laughter, throwing up his hands. "Ah, I can see what this coven is going to be like, advice from all sides, and everyone watching everyone else out of the corner of an eye! Why did you let Louis go off to New Orleans anyway? Couldn't you have stopped him?"
"The car is waiting," Khayman said quietly, but Lestat had already turned and was stomping out in mock fury, leaving the comforting silence behind him.
"He's going to go to the Talamasca, you know," Marius said, with only the faintest tremor in his voice. Armand looked up sharply.
"Of course," Khayman replied, his tone unsurprised. "I wouldn't worry about it, Marius." He reached out, sliding a piece into place. "Checkmate, Armand."
**Armand**
"The dark gift never brings love, only silence."
Armand sighed softly as he watched the waves from the balcony overlooking the beach. Daniel had left, again. He knew to leave before they tried to kill each other, and would return. But still, Armand found it frustrating that the situation existed at all. The facinating child he had followed for years grew into a stunning man... and now his only child. Shouldn't they be closer than this? In the weeks since Lestat left the villa, their relationship had become strained once more, until Daniel finally took the jet and headed for parts unknown. He'd call - he assured as he slung the suitcase over his shoulder. It was up to Armand to remember how to pick up the phone.
The coven had scattered, and he was alone once more. Except for... "The dark gift never brings love, only silence." he repeated, his quiet voice drifting into the night.
**Marius**
The villa was empty.
Had he been mortal, his steps would have echoed on the marble floors as he wandered the silent and still hallways. But he wasn't, and a ghost passing through those corridors would have made more noise then he did. His bare feet glided over the smooth stone, cool to the touch.
Empty. Already, the halls and rooms that had been filled with preternatural bodies and voices was taking on that peculiar quality that deserted buildings carry, a heavy hush falling over it until anyone who enters is forced to whisper, doing what they can to avoid disturbing that solemn silence. Marius found himself _trying_ to scuff his feet just a little, to bring back some of the sound and life to the place.
They had drifted off, one by one. Pandora had been first and he had watched her go with a deep sadness, very unsure if he would ever see her again. And then the others, silently slipping away, one after the other into the night. Daniel had been the last, the other night. And now he was alone. Or almost.
"The dark gift never brings love, only silence," the soft voice whispered from beyond the balcony.
"Only the silence of the mind," Marius replied gently. "Mortals live with this silence all of their lives, yet they live out their lives and love one another. Why should this lack take that away from us?"
**Armand**
He didn't turn. He didn't dare. Somehow, Armand dreaded this meeting. With the coming of night he knew Marius would seek him out. There would be no way to avoid it. His memories of their previous encounter still shook him to the core. Since that time, over three weeks, they had spent little time alone - the coven was always there, somehow. But now...
"To compare anything of our life to that of a mortal is ridiculous." Armand said, still scanning the waves. "That includes the affairs of the heart."
"Do you truly believe so?" Marius asked, moving silently to his side.
"No. Not really." Armand sighed. "They spend most of their lives miserable and alone. They die alone. Why should we be any different?"
**Marius**
"Ah, but we ARE different," Marius said, looking out over the dark waves. He had been drawn here, to Armand's side, like a moth to the flame, and now he could not bring himself to look at that pale, beautiful profile beside him. "How many bards and poets and novelists have praised the emotion of love? And, above all, the love that lasts through all of the ages, through time itself, beyond all the barriers and even past death. They praise it above all else. And is that not the very definition of our love? The love that will pass through the veil of death and beyond. Silent or no, it is a powerful thing."
He looked down, studying his hands where they rested against the railing. His loose hair fell down, covering his face, and his voice was low. "But... There are times, I think, when loving that much can be a crime. There are as many injustices done in the name of love as there are great things."
**Armand**
"Crimes of passion." Armand said thoughtfully. "How many times has such an act driven a mortal into my arms..." It was not a question, but a muse, and Marius knew better than to reply. Finally Armand looked at him, studying his strong profile. "Love has been the cause of many a hidious act, but perhaps the worst is that of abandonment. Leaving love to slowly starve and die." Marius looked at him sharply, but Armand continued, his voice even, his emotions hidden deep below his mask of calm. "I must know, now. When Santino took me, why did you not return?"
**Marius**
Marius took a shuddering breath, and then slowly drew away. The question pained him, and he turned his face away to hide the pain. It was a wound he had buried deeply, for more years then he could remember, and he had not thought it would hurt so to hear it spoken. But it did. "Amadeo..."
Armand's voice was low, and very, very cold. "No. The truth, Marius. It is not so much to ask, is it? Tell me. Why did you leave me in that hell?"
His voice was strained, alien in his own ears. "I can't answer that," he whispered, turning away. Armand's words caught him in mid-motion, sharp, like the blades of tiny knives that clawed at the pain he had held inside of himself for so long.
"Ah, and so you turn your back on me again," Armand whispered. And Marius stopped, unable to anything else.
For long moments the only sound was the distant throb of the waves and the harsh sound of his own breath, rasping softly through lungs that felt too tight. Finally, he dropped his head, turning mechanically back to the railing. Words flitted through his mind in myrid languages, words for the emotions he had felt and felt still, for the situation. Fear, cowardice, pain, helplessness, duty... but it all boiled down to one thing.
"I couldn't," he said softly, miserably. "I couldn't. Amadeo, please, belive me, this is terribly hard."
He looked up, into the dark eyes of his beloved child, seeing an emptiness there that demanded an answer of him. He flinched, closing his own eyes.
"I was hurt," he whispered, admitting, for once, this truth. "The fire... it was years before the pain faded, before I could so much as walk across a room without the pain. And there was the Mother and Father to think of, others came after Santino, the danger was always there. I took them far, away from the prying eyes and the mortals and everything. There was nothing else I could do. I didn't have the strength to protect them any more, or even to protect myself." He clutched at the balcony railing, holding it tight between his fingers as though that grasp might stop the flow of words, halt the betrayal of so many weaknesses that he had never thought to have to admit. "Or to protect you. I didn't even know if they had spared you, it was only years later that I had the strength to search you out and learn. And when I did..." He broke off, his hands trembling. Shame, hot as fire in his veins, eating like acid at his heart. He closed his eyes, remembering the fear, the lack of courage that had haunted his dreams for all of the centuries.
"I couldn't have kept you safe," he whispered. "I was living in danger with Those Who Must Be Kept. I couldn't bring you back to me, knowing that it was only to loose you again, or see you hurt more, the next time anyone came for the Mother and Father. I couldn't. The coven kept you safe, they took you in and gave you a place. It was more then I could have done. So I left you, rather then risk seeking you out. If I had gone to you, seen you... I would have taken you with me. No rationalizations would have stopped me. So I didn't do it." He forced himself to open his eyes, knowing that his voice was shaking and that Armand could hear it, but unable to stop the trembling. "I didn't have the strength. And I couldn't bear to bring you back into danger. I'm so sorry, caro. I'm so sorry..."
**Armand**
He looked out across the black ocean, the breeze fingering through his hair. Finally he voiced his thoughts. "Marius, you suffer for me." Armand's voice was distant. "You confess these events as though you regret them - as though..." His words trailed off. "Why? Who am I that you would suffer so?"
The dark eyes finally sought out his creator's face. "I did not mean to cause you distress. You did nothing with which I can find fault." He halted Marius' protest with a slight gesture - the power behind it that of the Coven Master. "Hear me. You acted honorably, though the cost was high. It was painful for us both... but such is the way of life, as we both know well." His voice droped even lower, mixing with the sounds of the night. "In truth, Marius, I admire you for your courage. Had I been in your place, I would have taken my child, and condemned the world for it." He sighed. "That is, in fact, precisely what I did."
**Marius**
"Courage." The word was bitter on his lips. "Courage? What courage is there in the betrayal that can cause such pain in both of us? Call it what it is, cowardice, weakness, and failure." His voice was harsh, and he could not bring himself to turn and look at Armand. "If you judge me, caro, it cannot be worse then I have judged myself. I placed one trust, that of duty, before the trust of love. And in that, I made the worst mistake of all these long years."
Marius leaned forward against the railing, his head bowed. "Amadeo... you have done well for yourself, despite it all. You have beaten the odds. You have your life, and your fledgling. And I... I am finding that I have very little. My entire life has been given over to duty. To being the keeper of Those Who Must Be Kept. And now... now I am not needed any more. I have no direction, nothing to keep me here, and nowhere to go. Nothing left," he whispered, "except the pain."
**Armand**
"Duty, honor - these are noble concepts." Armand said, fighting to calm his nerves. To see Marius so vulnerable rocked his sense of the world. "You acted with wonderful intent..."
"Intent? I nearly destroyed us both, caro."
He was completely at a loss for words. He had seen Marius in many moods, but never before had he seemed so... beaten. Hesitantly Armand reached out, resting a light hand upon Marius' arm. "For whatever it may be worth, padrone," he whispered finally, "I am proud of you."
**Marius**
For a long moment Marius did not respond. And then he moved, slowly, to place his own hand over Armand's. "As I am proud of you, Amadeo," he said softly. His lips turned in a wry, mocking smile that faded quickly. "But let me tell you a little secret, ragazzo. Pride, duty, honor... they're all noble concepts. But to live your life upon them, to let them become the be all and end all of your being... you become an emtpy shell. And one night you awaken to find that there is nothing there, no spark inside of you, no direction left to go and no purpose left in your life. And when you think of eternity like that, you suddenly understand what the true meaning of hell is..."
Marius drew himself up, raking his fingers through his hair and turning to Armand with a slow, sad smile. Reaching out, he gently framed Armand's face with his hands, bending to press a gentle kiss to his upturned brow. "Don't cherish the nobleness, caro. Mourn for the loss. We have abandoned much more then we have won."
**Armand**
Armand peered at him as the night seemed to hold its breath. Then he reached to gently take Marius' hands in his own. "I used to live like that." he said softly. "These concepts ruled my life. Duty, honor... they were all I had. For within my heart was a void. Nothing. That is the sum of my life with Santino, then, later, on my own. Mainly in Paris." The smile suddenly dancing on his lips had nothing to do with happiness or pleasure, but rather reflected the memory of bitter pain. "It was only when your messanger appeared that I leanred to live again."
"My messanger?" Marius frowned. "I sent no one."
Armand shook his head. "I thought that perhaps you had sent him from beyond the grave. I even, briefly, thought he was you, returned once more from beyond."
Realization dawned. "Lestat."
"Lestat. Yes. Dressed in red velvet, standing in the middle of certain death, the oldest and most powerful coven in the world, daring us to live again." He sighed. "Lestat, Louis... Daniel. These three have awoken me to the new age." Then he stilled suddenly, and looked once more at Marius. "But perhaps it is up to the two of us to remind each other how to *live*."
**Marius**
Marius' jaw tightened for a moment, an almost spasmodic jerk. "Sometimes," he whispered, "I don't know if I ever have lived. Perhaps I truly died all of those years ago in that druid glade, and everything since has been hell." There were tears in his eyes but he blinked them back, looking away from Armand and up to the clear stars above. "There has been so little joy... With Pandora first, and then with you, but the duty always came between us. TWICE I have been truely happy, in all of those years. I look at the mortals around us- they have their griefs, but they leave them behind, go on to find love and hapiness, day after day, for all the short years of their lives- and we, who have all the time in the world, live more in grief then we do anything else. It's as though we attract it, or become so used to it that it is too difficult to change the habits of centuries."
Marius looked back to Armand. He traced the lines of Armand's cheeks, gently slipping his hands down to the slender neck and back, into the soft curls of hair. "Mi Amadeo... I broke my heart over you. I have never grieved so deeply, or so long, or carried a wound so deep. And I hurt you, abandoned you in your need. And yet, despite all the pain, I love you still. I always will. But can we truely risk that love again? To rekindle what was, if we can, only to have it burn us again?"
**Armand**
Armand looked up, his bright eyes suddenly dark with tears. "I do not believe we have a choice, padrone. For though I fear this, I can not deny it. You may be my last chance. Once again, I cast you in the role of savior. First of my body, and now, o f all that is left of me." He looked closely, but could not tell what effect his words had upon his creator. His own heart pounded painfully in a type of fear he had seldom felt. Had hardly ever allowed himself to feel. "I believe we must risk it... one last time. And after this, should we fail, never again. I know I could never do it again."
**Marius**
"Nor I," Marius whispered. "I know I could not. If we do this... I can not bear to loose you again. It would kill me. If I fail you again... The fire will be a blessing."
He could feel the subtle tremor in Armand through his palms, feel it's answer within himself. He shut his eyes to close out the look of that dark gaze turned up to him. To shut out the pain and trust he saw reflected there.
"I love you," he breathed, with a fierceness that could never reveal the storm that swept through him with those simple words. "I always will. And I am lost, with those words, for it is started already and there is no going back. Amadeo... I love you."
**Armand**
Armand knew already that he was lost. It was a forgone conclusion from the moment he learned Marius traveled to join the coven in California. And so he did nothing to fight it now. Suddenly, all that mattered was the building of that very thing which might serve to destroy them both. "Let it begin" he thought to himself. "One way, or the other, let it begin."
His motions were slow, unhurried, as his hands trailed over the surface of Marius' torso until his fingers connected with the uppermost button. With a deceptivly casual gesture, he opened it, allowing the tips of his nails to brush the pale skin within. Marius gasped but held still under his touch. Armand moved lower, repeating the gesture until the shirt lay open under his hands, revealing the ivory skin of his creator. "I love you too." he breathed, his lips whispering across the center of Marius' chest. "More than I knew it was possible to love - I love you." His lips traveled upward, until they reached the hollow of his throat. Marius drew in a labored breath when Armand's lips rested there, and he pulled back, their eyes locking. Wondering if he had gone too far, Armand paused, wondering what Marius would do.
**Marius**
It had taken everything he had to remain still under that touch. To close his eyes and not move, to feel the silken touch of those slender fingers and the warm brush of breath. To feel the clocks of time roll back with every small touch, until he opened his eyes to a changed world.
There was no such thing as America, or Miami, or any of it. They stood on the balcony of the palazzo, overlooking the black waters of the Mediterannean, and the beloved child that stood before him might have never been ripped from his arms, the love was so great. It staggered Marius, stole his breath and reason. Past and present blurred, and only that one emotion remained constant and firm.
He reached out with trembling hands, cupping the beautiful face that was upturned towards him between his fingers. He traced the lines of cheek and jaw, the gentle sweep of the eyebrows and the satin soft swell of the lips beneath his thumb. "Mi Amadeo ," he whispered brokenly, the sounds of the Italian of five centuries before falling easily from his tongue. "My beautiful one. I love you."
He bent, closing the slight distance between them, and caught Armand's lips against his own.
**Armand**
How could pleasure and fear mix so easily? Before there had only been one, or the other. Voices screamed within him as Marius kissed him - that Armand should run, shield himself, break away before the defenses were breeched entirely
Five centuries to create. Less than a week to destroy. Well aware of what was at stake, and suddenly not caring, Armand responded with a passion he had forgotten he possessed. Instinct took the place of the fierce control he showed even Daniel - seduction was replaced by fire as the bloodlust swelled within him.
He spoke no words in response to Marius' whispered endearments, but then, he never had. He preferred to show in actions the value of the man in his arms, raining kisses everywhere he could reach. Marius shivered under his lips and fingers... Armand knew if they did not reach back, lock the door, they would be interrupted by an eager student, wishing to speak to the Master regarding their latest creation
And then, even the visions of Italy were swept away, and there was only Marius.
**Marius**
It was almost painful; the fiery touch of lips and fingers, teeth and tongue, raining across his skin with no pattern or rythm, inflaming nerves and senses until it was merely self defense to thread his fingers through those soft curls and yank that head and the maddening lips up and away from his flesh.
Self defense, too, to occupy those lips with his own and to draw Armand closer until their bodies were pressed tight, no room for those nimble fingers that were driving him past the brink of sanity. But the hands escaped him, slipping around and underneath his loosened shirt, to trail paths across his back with the sharp tips of nails. Marius hissed, arching his back. Armand laughed softly against his lips, his breath a warm brush that was followed by the sharp nip of teeth and then the almost apologetic flicker of a tongue. Marius moaned softly, an almost inaudible sound, and then stepped back only long enough to stoop in a smooth motion and rise up again, Armand's figure caught securely in his arms.
The younger vampire stiffened, a little cry of protest dying on his lips as Marius bent his head. "Not," he growled softly into one ear, "out _here_."
He was rewarded with an almost incredulous gasp of laughter from Armand, and then the words were gone and none of it mattered. Inside, out of the cool night breeze and away from the chill light of the stars and city. Into the hall, through a door, no one there to disturb them or care. It was unorthadox, it was not what he had in mind, assuming he had had anything in mind at all, and it simply didn't matter so long as it was there.
A sweep of his arm sent whatever had been there crashing to the floor in a metallic clatter. He set Armand down, caught his hands and pressed him back against the smooth, cool surface. His outstretched fingers brushed something in the darkness and a burst of thought made it catch with a bright spark, the wick flaring into brilliant orange flame.
Candlelight sprang up, picking out the forms from the darkness in soft, wavering shaddows. Marius caught his breath for a moment, frozen by the tableau set before him.
Armand lay still beneath him, dark eyes like black pits in the dim light, auburn curls splayed like the spray of a waterfall across the deep burnished burgendy of the wood beneath him. The light played across the lines of his cheeks and throat, a perfect chiascuro landscape of palest ivory and velvet shadows. It glinted off of the small buttons of his shirt as he drew breath, winking like little eyes from the darkness. Marius drew a slow breath, wetting his lips.
Exhaling softly, he bent, pressing a feather light kiss to the lips upraised to him. His fingers found the first button and freed it of its cloth shackle, then the next, and the next. Down the line, pausing only to press a soft trail of kisses to the expanse of exposed pale skin. Brushing the linen fabric aside, letting his fingers caress the lines of ribs beneath the soft flesh. Following that shallow path across the chest that rose with quickened breath and down, until blocked once again by the restraint of cloth.
Marius lifted his eyes, looking up. Armand had lifted his head, his black eyes watching Marius' actions with a greedy intensity. Marius smiled, reaching out to brush his fingertips across Armand's parted lips before bending his head again and gently taking the first button of the pants between his lips, working it free with only the aid of tongue and lips.
He didn't look up again, but he felt and heard the soft gasp as he lifted the tiny metallic head of the zipper with the tip of his tongue, grasping it between his teeth.
**Armand**
The polished, gleaming wood beneath his back - that was reality. The cool air against his heated skin - that was reality. The sight of Marius slowly disrobing him, brushing Armand's hands aside when he would mirror the gestures... that was deepest fantasy so lost, so forbidden that he had literally forgotten some of them. Even then, his memories and fantasies had been of the past, when Armand lay with his Master, his Padrone. During such times Armand's behavior had been nothing short of reverant. But now... he lay nearly naked on the long dining room table, spread out before Marius' hungry gaze like a meal waiting to be consumed. And his thoughts were far from reverant.
His pants slid off with a skillful tug, exposing him to the world. So why did he not feel exposed? Why did he instead feel warm and safe and absurdly happy? When Marius bent his head, trailing fire along the inner vein of his thigh, Armand cried out sharply, the pleasure overwhelming every other instinct. "Marius..."
"Si, Amadeo... say my name. I want to hear it." He punctuated the soft command by a stinging bite, hard enough to mottle the flesh without breaking it. Armand surged up, only to be restrained by a gentle but firm hand. "Say it." he insisted gently.
"Marius..." Armand breathed, as though making a new, wonderful discovery. "I love you, Marius."
His creator closed his eyes, seeming dizzy for a moment, then instantly covered Armand's body with his own. He hesitated only a moment before plunging his fangs into the throat Armand willingly bared. As Armand closed his eyes, his only thought were that if he died at that moment, he would die happy.
**Marius**
It was almost painful.
The blood had poured across his tongue, searing a path down his throat and burning through his very soul. His entire world had collapsed into that one sensation; the sense of taste, the feel of each muscle as he swallowed, the all encompassing fire that engulfed every nerve. And yet it was a thousand times more than that as well- it was the taste of a soul he had thought never to touch again, the essence of a love he had mourned and buried and which now rose up, as strong as it had been then, undulled by any act of time or circumstance. It defined Marius' soul and heart, to the exclusion of all else.
Amadeo.
It took an effort he could not believe but he managed it, drawing back. He could feel the flow of the blood slow and stop beneath his lips, even as he forced himself to lift his head. Armand lay with his eyes closed, his entire body trembling beneath Marius' hands with the force of every breath he took. Marius closed his own eyes, then opened them again, experiencing that small shock as the image remained, unchanged, instead of fading into the mist of dreams. Impossible vain effort to quiet his own breathing or the shivers that were running through him.
Sitting back, Marius raised his hands to his lips., He couldn't even feel if there was pain as he dragged a ragged cut across the tips of his fingers, and the taste of his own blood was negligible. Heavy drops of it fell across the white surface of Armand's chest when he stretched out his arms, black in the dim light. Armand shuddered, his eyes snapping open, but Marius touched his bloodied fingertips to Armand's forehead and gently pressed him back down, tracing a line down the curve of his nose and over his lips and chin with a touch that left a path of crimson in its wake. Bending, he followed that path with his tongue, continuing to follow the line of his fingers over the sculpted forms of throat and chest as he struggled to give himself enough time to regain some control.
**Armand**
He was thinking in Italian, which he had not done in literally centuries. Yet now it came easily, swiftly. "Mi amo, mi padrone." To surrender himself so completely to another - it freed him from bonds he did not realize held him. It healed him of wounds so familiar he had forgotten that they had not always been a part of him.
Then he went beyond thought, driven there by the pure sensation of Marius swallowing his essence, taking the whole of Armand into himself. "Yes, take it." he thought dizzily, swimming in memories. "Take it all. Take everything." At first he thought Ma rius would comply. Understanding that it took an extreme act of will for him to lift his head for his throat, Armand was almost disappointed. What better way to die than in ecstasy at the hands of his creator? But Marius pulled back at the last, leaving Armand bereft until the blood dripped slowly onto his lips - Marius' tongue and lips closely following.
Like an infant Armand sought out those lips, seeking the source of life in a ritual so basic, so powerful that again it occured to him that this was a highly fitting way to die. Even as he nuzzled at Marius' throat, sliding his fangs into that most beloved flesh with surgical precision.
Then all thoughts of life and death fled as he surrendered once more to Marius, this time to his blood. The elixir of life poured through Armand like a sweetly remembered dream, leaving him weak and trembling even as he drank. As the stream slowed he cupped Marius' face in his hands lovingly, feeling a rebirth of emotions, so fragile that all he could do was weep, tears slowly trickling down his face even as he whispered the one word which encompassed the sum of his world. "Padrone."
**Marius**
No word had ever held such power over him, and from those lips, in that voice, it could touch a part of him that nothing else ever could. He could not remember the span of years that had passed since he had taught a young, frightened boy to call him by that name and now, the sound of it pronounced by the boy turned man, evoked a shudder within him that swept through his body and left a slow, delicious sense of completeness. So easy to give in, to relinquish control to this single being he would and always had trusted in a way he could not even describe.
Marius' entire being cried out for that surrender- to lay back, reach up and draw those lips to his throat again, slit the vein himself if he had to, anything to make it continue. But it was too late already, Armand was drawing away and Marius was left with only the cool caress of empty air.
He started to sit up, to reach for Armand, but something in the look of those dark eyes made him pause, the gesture stilled before it was begun. There was something there that had not been there only moments before as they lay in each others arms, and the sight of it caused a small pang of pain within Marius.
He made himself reach out, an imploring gesture. Silence between them, a silence that he cursed. His hands were almost imperceptibly trembling, the plea visible in his eyes, but Armand shook his head slightly.
Marius watched with a type of disbelieving pain as Armand slipped away from him in both body and spirit. He could see it in his child's eyes, in the resumed wariness of posture, and to see it when the taste of blood was still sharp on his tongue, the impression of Armand's body in his arms only minutes old, was like a blow to the face. He had known, deep within, that the breach of so many centuries could not be healed in a matter of minutes or hours, but it still hurt to see the truth of it.
Armand had paused at the edge of the table, half turned towards Marius. Marius let his hands fall, accepting, and was rewarded with a flicker of relief in those eyes. For a moment it seemed that Armand might speak, but then he shook his head again. He reached out, his slim hands cupping Marius' face, and leaned forward to brush their lips together. Searing, that kiss, and Marius leaned into it, putting everything he could not say, every wish and hope, into that silent communication of touch and taste. It was gone before he knew it, leaving only the lingering echo of a touch. Armand had leapt down from the table and scooped up his clothes and even his footsteps left no trace of his passage from the room.
Marius sat for a long time, silently, studying the shadows cast by the flickering candlelight upon the dark mahogany wood. Finally he straightened, raking back his loosened hair and pulling his shirt into place. He slipped down to the cool tiles of the floor, pausing long enough to blow out the small flames before walking from the room.
**Armand**
The war he fought within himself was so vicious that the pain was very nearly all Armand could comprehend. All he wanted was to sink into Marius and stay there forever. Never resurface into the harsh world again. But as soon as the blood's euphoria wore off, the defenses of half a millennia motivated him to distance himself. The price - the look of pain and longing on his creators face - the lead weight feeling of emptiness within his own heart. The defenses won, but oh, the pain.
Such a delicious dilemma. Armand began pondering it even as he made his way noiselessly back to his rooms. He could not help but trust Marius, yet he did not dare. Only three times in five centuries had he ever felt this strength of emotion, this nauseating, gut wrenching certainty that his world was altered forever. The first, when torn from Marius' arms by Santino, plunged into a hell so black that literal death was a positive option, if not a viable choice. The second was the occasion which prompted his choice of names. And the third - most recent - Armand felt a twinge even two hundred years after the fact. The third was when he bared his soul to Lestat de Lioncourt, who had seen his pain, and still turned away. After that his walls had been impenetrable. Even for Louis de Pointe du Lac. Even for Daniel, his beloved child. Even for Nicki.
Until now.
With frightening ease, with hardly a sound, Armand's carefully constructed defenses lay in ruins at his feet. Not bothering to dress, he opened the floor to ceiling French doors, allowing the tropical breeze to caress his skin, just as Marius' fingers had caressed him mere minutes ago. That thought horrified and thrilled him. Stepping outside, he rested his fingertips lightly on the smooth stone railing. Still the war raged on, drowning out the roar of nocturnal insects with the internal clamor. Everything he was both cried out for Marius, and resisted fiercely. So consuming was the battle that he did not notice his trembling, or the sweat beading on his brow, until several dark drops of crimson splashed onto the stone between his hands. It was then that he made his decision. He was not sure he could survive the drastic changes about to be visited upon his life. But he was suddenly sure he could not survive now without Marius as a part of his world.
Decision made, his nerves settled into a calmer state of anticipation, similar to that just before Louis had burned the theatre. He quickly dressed, then went once more in search of Marius.
**Marius**
He had not returned to his rooms. He could not. And in the end his wandering feet had lead him through the silent corridors of the villa, in a meandering path that had brought him to the place where they had all once gathered. The rooms where the young had sat side by side with the old, only a few scant weeks before. Before they had drifted away, one by one, vanishing into the night and leaving only the echoing emptiness in their wake.
Marius drifted through the rooms, pausing to run his fingers across the backs of chairs, over the silk polish of the piano where Pandora had sat for hours, playing softly long into the depths of the nights. The keys were closed now, and he had not the heart to lift the ebony cover and see them, silent and forelorn by their attending muse. He did sink down to the bench, caressing the laquered wood, resting his arms against it. He found his fingertips tracing the lines of a name against the black and stopped, forcing himself to sit still.
He understood. It hurt, but he understood. Centuries of pain and seperation could not be overcome in a night, or even in a month. Perhaps not in years. It would take time, and patience. To rediscover trust. The love was there, a current between them that would never break, a cord that bound them together through all the centuries. But the trust, the belief, that would take time. It was a structure to be rebuilt, upon the shattered ruins of the old, stone by stone and one layer at a time.
Marius closed his eyes, resting his head against his hands. It was something he could already feel within himself. The ability, the urge, to throw all caution to the winds, to sink into this with no hesitation, to throw up in haste the memory of what had been. Recreate that memory on the spur of the moment, and then loose himself in it. But it would not be right, and, in truth, he could only be thankful of Armand's natural caution. To rush into this now would be folley, and a fantasy built of dreams and mist. One could not go back to the past. One must build the future. And though the past could be the foundation of that future, they could not simply pick up where they had left off before.
He sighed, raking back his hair again. It was right, it was the better choice, but it still hurt. That withdrawal had struck chords of fear and hurt within him. The silence around him now hurt, in a way he could not even explain. And finally, to banish both silence and thought, he lifted the cover from the keys of the piano and placed fingers which trembled only slightly upon the ivory bands, letting the slow, hesitant notes of long forgotten melodies break the stillness of the night.
**Armand**
The music drifted to him on the scented wind of night. He followed it as though chasing a will 'o the wisp, down the corridors of the still house, into the main room where all had gathered not long ago. He stood in shadow, not attempting concealment, but simply listening as the music gained in strength and assurance, as Marius became familiar once again with the process of creating such music.
He was tempted to remain there, lost in the darkness, frozen in this moment of time where all possibilities awaited. Yet he knew he could not. He entered the room fully as the music dwindled to a close, silently approaching his creator. Then, hesitating, he placed a gentle hand on his arm.
**Marius**
There was a discordant crash of sound as the last bars of music abruptly ceased. Marius stilled at the touch, his fingers fumbling across the keys as he stopped. He stayed very still for a moment, then, very gently, removed his hands from the keyboard, lifting them away from the surface, before turning to meet Armand's gaze. He didn't recognize the slight catch in his breath until he heard it in the silence of the room around them.
He had to swallow before speaking, yet his voice was astonishingly steady to his own ears. Low, quiet, but steady. Only the words themselves shocked him, slipping out before his mind could exert any control over them. "You came back."
**Armand**
The catch in Marius' voice seemed a brand of fire along his nerves. He steeled himself and forced himself to speak. "I came back." Armand agreed simply. "I had no choice."
Marius looked at him sharply. "Had no choice?" By his expression it was clear he was not certain if Armand's reply was a positive or negative. In truth, Armand was not clear on that himself.
"I had to return." he affirmed. "I... you...." He swallowed, then continued. "You called me." He looked up, his eyes carrying an uncommon wealth of emotions. "I could not run from you. The fear... is not the right choice. Not now." Armand's voice dwindled away as he watched Marius, hoping that somehow Marius would divine what he was attempting to communicate.
**Marius**
He listened to the words, but it took several moments after they were spoken before the true meaning of them reached his mind. "Not the right choice," he repeated softly. "Not now..."
So easy. So easy to give into this, to plunge in without caution. And he wanted to, desperately, like a deep well of feeling beneath the assumed resignation. It was the more dangerous of the two, the riskier, but he wanted it. And before he even knew he had done it Marius found he had turned, catching Armand's hands in his own, and the small light of Armand's eyes was all the reassurance he needed.
**Armand**
Again the fear welled up within him, fierce and strong. However, rather than deny it, he found himself regarding it with contempt. Armand willed himself to look into Marius' eyes, hiding nothing. His voice was low, but carried perfect conviction. "I am the Vampire Armand. I do *not* run from such confrontations." Whether it was a warning or an attempt to convince himself was unclear. But suddenly, once again, the Coven Master stood before Marius. On the surface he appeared perfectly calm. But if one were to look deeper, they could see there the coiled tension of a serpent preparing to strike, the same deadly focus and cold calculation of intent. Armand forced the words from his lips though a minuscule shiver shot through him for the effort. "I fear this, Marius. Do not for one moment believe otherwise. However, I will not give into it." His gaze bore into Marius, carrying the full force of his will along with it. "It is time to live again." Then, surprising himself enormously, he smiled, eyes glittering with wicked humor. "Heaven help the world."
**Marius**
Marius could not help but return the smile. "Yes," he agreed quietly. "To live again."
He drew Armand's hand up to his lips, then pressed it gently to his cheek, leaning his head against the touch. The smile faded, replaced by something much more somber and soft at the same time. "I fear it too," he said seriously. "But we face it together, not alone. I promise you that."
**Armand**
To be held was more luxury than the finest silk, the softest bed. And more terrifying by far than anything he could ever recall attempting. It was one thing to be ripped from the arms of the one he loved and trusted most in the world, not one, but twice. To be thrust into the depths of hell with no hope of eventual rescue or parole. But this... to give his heart willingly... to trust again knowing too much of the pain of loss, not nearly enough of the comfort of acceptance. Only a madman would attempt it for a third time. "I am mad, then." Armand whispered, stepping into Marius' arms. "But now... I am ready." It was a small motion. Almost nothing. And with it, he dedicated his heart, his soul, to one final chance at redemption.
"I pray for the love
That's fallen from grace
The tears left behind
Won't wash from my face
I'm left with all these feelings
But nothing fills the space
Of the love that once was
That's fallen from graceBeen through every reason
And they all seem to fit
No one's pleading guilty now
There's nothing to admit
There's no one to blame
Once you believe
'Cause people only touch and go
But love will never leave..."-- Heart, "Fallen From Grace"
END
