This is a piece of amateur fiction and is not intended to infringe on the rights of Anne Rice or her publishers.

Spoilers for QotD

If there was one thing he hated about being a vampire, it was waking up. As a mortal it had been a lingering between sleep and consciousness, a sweet embrace of comfort. Now this twilight zone was gone completely, the change from sleep to waking was immediately and without the soft tones of gray he had loved so much.

He felt his lover's body curled up against him, the beautiful face buried against his chest, slim fingers tangled in his hair. Sometimes he wished he would wake more often before his beloved, but he knew that the evenings when he did were to be treasured, since the maker would always be stronger than the fledgling, the deathlike sleep having less power over him.

Gently smoothing the auburn curls, he brushed his lips over the other's cheek, drinking his scent. Many others had cursed the Dark Gift, had called it evil and bad, but for him it was the best that could have ever happened to him. Without it he would have never met his lover, they would have been divided by five centuries. The blood alone had given them the opportunity to find each other.

He seldom thought of his former life, the colorless existence as one of millions. Sure, there had been wonderful moments, but nothing that could have matched the love and the contentedness he experienced now. There was nothing to be missed; everything had been substituted by something more perfect and more precious. He had been adopted into a new family, one where the old terms of father and brother weren't existing. They all were connected as acquaintances, friends, and the strongest form, lovers. No mortal relationship could match this.

Nevertheless he sometimes had images of people long gone in his mind, persons that had been important once and were now completely meaningless to him. Thoughts of afternoons in the sun, with his parents and his sister, and later his girlfriend. He had been happy back then, as happy as he was now, though he couldn't understand why. Perhaps because he had always thought this was all that life could offer him. He hadn't known that there was more to be gained, that he hadn't even got an idea of the immensity of life. And not even now was he sure that he completely understood.

He didn't care about his family's whereabouts anymore, they meant nothing to him. He had made sure that money was sent to them, and expensive presents, but he had never really given them a thought. Once a letter of his sister had reached him, she had begged him to return, or at least send her something that could confirm her that he was still alive. She had loved him, as a sister would love a brother. She had cared. He had ignored the letter.

Armand stirred in his arms now, and he continued kissing his cheeks and his hair. The curls were tangled from sleep, perhaps he would be allowed to brush them for him. The touch of the soft hair under his fingers was something he enjoyed, a little detail he didn't want to miss.

Sighing, his lover opened his eyes, blinking sleepily, smiled at him. The loving expression on the youthful face made him think of the many times he had seen it before, and how special every single one had been. Feeling the soft, cool lips brush over his throat, his jawline, finally reaching his own mouth, he wanted this moment to last forever.

Strange, the thought of that letter didn't let him go. Perhaps he should call her, even if it had been years since she had written the few lines. Armand was kissing his temples. Yes, he would tell her that he was happy now.