Air ached in his dead lungs as if a clamp were placed over his esophagus, his dead heart seemed to rattle with remembered life. Her eyes were quick, life seeming to flare against irises that lit as if they were molten. His breath hitched, caught deep in his throat and Christian lifted a thoughtless hand to her cheek. Her skin was smooth and soft as he remembered, a dream of lust and love. He'd never, afterwards, been able to put into words the notions that had gripped his heart in a vice when their eyes had first met, all those centuries ago, but his emotions had never since been unshackled. He'd promised her an eternity, once, sworn to her in his heart that every waking moment would be hers. Some corner of his mind wondered if he were breaking that oath while another shrieked that this had been the only way to do just that.
Her beauty was a wild, untamed thing. However civil and courtly she could tailor herself to be, that was not her soul. If anyone could see it, Christian could. They'd shared a single soul - that was what it meant to be a Maker, was it not? And it was what it meant to be a lover, in the truest sense. She was many things: princess, countess, mother, daughter, Progeny, but all these things were only labels, they were not who she was, who they were. Whatever those courts had tried to do to her, she'd molded their words into a weapon of her own, stronger than they had ever imagined. It was that, and not his blood fueling her veins, that had sustained her through the passing centuries, he knew. And still, she was his as he was hers, even as he tried to tell himself it must not be.
Almost nine hundred years had seen them a unified force, their only certain home in each other's arms. It now felt foreign to be apart even in this way. But still Christian pulled away as if scalded: abruptly and painfully.
When she mentioned his old friend's name, Christian arched his brows. "I trust Kol," he assured her. "I have known him these many years." It had been the crusades, when a fragment of vampires had taken to the dust and sand of the Middle East in search of the free-flowing blood to be found there. While Alys was cloistered away as was expected of the women, Christian had been free for forays into the field, where he could bring back his prizes for his Progeny. It was on such an incursion that he had first encountered the older vampire. The two had quickly struck up a friendship that had seen them through the passing centuries through the changing media of letters, telegraphs, emails, texts...whatever the age required or allowed. And Christian knew in his heart that he owed Kol a very specific debt.
"You've nothing to fear from him, I assure you," he added. "He has always been a faithful friend to me and I am sure he will extend the same to you." He noted, in silence, how her hand snaked away from his touch. Nodding to himself, he took a step back, as if she'd asked it of him. "Yet, if it is your wish, I shall keep my own counsel from here on out," he promised. "Know, however, that if you are ever in need and unable to reach me, you can go to him. He is...quite old and very capable." Christian's eyes lowered, shadowed for a moment in the low light. It was no secret that the future concerned him. From the fact that Flynn had never released him and therefore had power over him to the mere fact of his age - Kol, at least, was invulnerable to both of these instances and might shelter Alys, should some ill fate befall Christian, himself.
Christian drew himself up to his full height when she said they would survive, his eyes locked on her face. "We will survive," he murmured, hopefully. We must survive, together, he thought. Or I shall not survive at all. "We will survive and we will fight on."
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