| ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ ɪs ᴄᴇʀᴛᴀɪɴ

[m0rscerta-blog1]

h0raincerta:

His fall did not end quite as expected. Rather than hit the floor Albert was almost jolted back to reality when he felt gentle arms around him, his face into a shoulder and hint of cool neck. It felt nice, something else to focus on, a heart beat at his ear that helped regulate his breathing.

Drawing in a long breath he was suddenly reminded of a similar scene in the foyer of the Paris Opera house, Eugénie playing in the background, when he’d broken down in the Count’s arms. He still felt no shame in that, and didn’t feel it now. It just was what he needed.

Slowly his body stopped shaking, his panic from moments ago returning to the back of his thoughts, letting him now just focus on this. How long had he wished to feel it again, to be held by this incredible man who’d changed his life so drastically in a few short months. He should hate Edmond, many of his friends wondered why he didn’t. But his mother knew, and she had been the first to voice it.

‘You loved him.’

He did. Even now.

But would his feelings be reciprocated? After all by any accounts Edmond was old enough to be his father. Their only kiss had been in desperation, and it hadn’t been mentioned since. At least he knew that there was no grudge held against him any more. There was not even the hint of a lie in the Count’s voice as he apologized again, and even when Albert felt himself gently separated from the embrace and he looked up at him.

‘What do you need me to do?’

So many words swelled to his throat and he didn’t know which would be the right one. What would be the thing to say here? From Edmond’s expression he could tell that whatever he asked would be given to him. The man truly was sorry for everything that had happened five years ago, and was willing to do anything to make amends. But there was only one thing Albert felt that could cover everything. The only thing he’d ever felt any sort of resentment for.

He’d left.

Albert was about the speak when he was distracted by two things; the beginnings of rain that sent the barest of shivers down his spine, and the return of the two bodyguards. He managed a shaky smile and nod to the two men before they left again, returning the privacy of the room. The brunet glanced back at the still open window, trying to gather his thoughts together before turning to look up at that piercing heterochromic gaze.

“One thing… Just one thing…”

Whether or not his feelings would be reciprocated. Whether they would simply return to friendship or become more, it would require just one single thing from the other man.

“Will you stay this time…Edmond?”

          ‘ No, I’m not. ’ 

He wanted to say that the only reason he returned was because of Albert. That he spent the past five years searching so that he could come back and not worry about GANKUTSUOU taking control. What happened in the Champs Elysees was close. Too close. He didn’t want it to happen again, and he felt his arms tighten a little around Albert. The rain was coming down hard now, and the smell of wet soil and cement wafted in from the streets. Yet he didn’t pull away, only moving to return the other’s gaze.

Inexplicably, his heart beat began to RACE, the pounding almost painful in his chest. His gaze shifted from Albert’s eyes to his mouth, his lips parting just a little the longer he stared at it. His first instinct was to step back and avoid a potentially intimate encounter. But something in the back of his mind kept him from doing so, as he remembered that moment where Albert first kissed him. He remembered how the demon recoiled, giving him the chance to regain control. He remembered the warmth that spread, how he had panicked once he realized what that meant.

Now, that same warmth began to spread through his entire body, but unlike the last time, he had no DESIRE to kill anyone. Instead, he pulled back, just enough for him to tilt Albert’s chin a little.

          ‘ I am never leaving your side again. ’ 

Though he hesitated a little, he leaned down, pressing his lips against Albert’s, claiming it in a sweet, almost passionate, kiss. And while the gesture could easily become something more INTIMATE, he controlled himself. Though he had made his affections clear ( and in his own way ), Albert might not even feel the same way towards him. Such a possibility was very real, but he was still open to become friends if he was REJECTED. But for now, for that sweet moment, he relished in the chance that they could be something MORE.

[m0rscerta-blog1]

Did you get any sleep?

@h0raincerta | Answered 

             ‘ Just ENOUGH. ’ 

He was having difficulty sleeping lately, choosing to take naps during the day. But he didn’t want Albert to worry about him, and he smiled a little. That smile faded quickly and he turned away. The Count remembered that Albert’s birthday was coming up. Another REMINDER that he was getting older, while he was frozen at 35. He didn’t want to think about what THAT implied, and he rubbed the side of his head, squeezing his eyes shut. 

[m0rscerta-blog1]

regiaservitia:

( ☆ ) She listened carefully to his words, absorbing and memorizing every single one; but kept her eyes downcast, a habit that had been beat into her within only a few years ( short years that felt like eons ). A chance for my mother, a chance for my father, a chance for myself? A pale mouth twitched slightly, the smallest of smiles appearing on her soft features before it fell once again; colorless fingers tightly clutching the lengthly sleeves of her vibrantly-colored robes.

Haydée remained silent for a long moment, wishing with all her heart to believe him, believe the man who had done the unimaginable for her–still, she could not bring herself to fall headfirst into such a sweet legerdemain, not just yet. I will catechize him first, and I will wait for it, a proper time to give myself to the beautiful dream, should it ever come.

“He does–and I deserve to have my freedom avenged,” she murmured lowly, eyes flickering upwards to meet her master’s face. “But…forgive my impunity, but why do you want this for me, my lord? Why do you wish to give me this prospect of something I have not dared to indulge in for so many years?” Surely, he must have his own motivations, I cannot bring myself to trust that this is solely out of affection for me. ( ☆ )

               ‘ Because I understand the VALUE of a second chance. For                                   those who deserve it, it can be...liberating. ’

His response served both as an explanation and a WARNING. The Count had been given a second chance at life, and he chose to use it to PUNISH those who were responsible for his imprisonment. Those who BETRAYED him. And he and the young princess had a common enemy; to use her as the lynchpin to ruin Fernand’s reputation seemed the most LOGICAL choice.

A tray of sweets were delivered: sweet cakes made from the last planet they’d been to. The construction of his home in Paris was almost COMPLETE, but it would still take another year and a half before they could see it. In the meantime, he began solidifying connections with Thomson and French, as well as gathering information about Villefort and his new wife. 

                ‘ And because I believe that you survived for a reason. ’   

[m0rscerta-blog1]

h0raincerta:

He couldn’t tell if he was still crying, all Albert could hear was the pounding of his heart in his ears, beating out a tattoo that matched the increased tightness in his chest. 

It almost felt like he was drowning again, like he was sinking and couldn’t get enough air. The world around him swirled just like when he’d fallen in the ocean under the Champs Elysees.

But just like then, there was a single hand, and a baritone voice.

Upon feeling the lightest touch of cool skin on his wrist, like ice almost, he latched on to it, holding that hand in both of his. He couldn’t understand what was said right at that moment, just held on to his makeshift lifeline with clammy, shaking hands.

Don’t go.

Don’t leave again.

Had he said that out loud? He couldn’t even tell. His vision was wavering and Albert shut his eyes against the wave of nausea. Why couldn’t he just breathe?

He held on to his lifeline with a vice-like grip, afraid that it would slip through his fingers and he’d be left to sink even further.

“Please…”

He couldn’t even hear his own voice, if he had even said anything. Were his eyes even open? Everything looked dark either way. Was he just dreaming?

He felt his hands start to loose their grip. Was he tilting forward or was the world around him moving?

Help me

Eyes widened at the sudden pressure on his hand, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he sat still, studying Albert. The Count had not meant to dredge up past ILLS, and his mouth felt dry at the idea of causing the younger man to spiral into a sudden swirl of panic. Considering that Albert was the first one to touch him, he assumed that the man wouldn’t mind to be TOUCHED. The slackening of the grip was further solidified when HE gripped Albert’s hands in his, using that hold to pull the other into a loose embrace.

               ‘ I’m sorry. ’

How often would he have to say that before HE forgave himself? Those seemed like a pathetic way to show his REGRET, but it was the only thing he could do. As wealthy as he was, he didn’t have the ability to bring DEAD PEOPLE back to life. Yet he held on to Albert, pulling away once he felt the shaking subside so that he could look into those eyes.

                               ‘ What do you need me to do, Albert? ’

The world seemed to ECHO Albert’s mood, as he heard the rain start: big fat drops hitting the pavement below. Baptistin and Bertuccio walked in, the former shaking water from his coat. Besides the brief greeting they gave to Albert, they didn’t stay, choosing to walk out of the room and stand guard outside. However, they forgot to close the balcony doors, prompting a breeze of COLD AIR to blow into the room.

[ofhotheads-blog]

                                                                  W A R N I N G :                                          do NOT mistake my goodness for weakness                                              (it’ll be the last mistake you ever make)

[m0rscerta-blog1]

h0raincerta:

Another answer the young viscount hadn’t been expecting. His eyes widened in slight surprise and he started to object when he saw the Count injest something from an emerald case. As he took another bite he couldn’t help the curiosity to know why the man didn’t eat. With his odd skin tone, bi-colored eyes and pointed ears and teeth, he could understand the rumors that had been floating around. Perhaps he wasn’t completely human, but it wasn’t uncommon for hybrids to exist anymore. 

Either way, Albert nodded in acceptance.

 “If you’re sure, Excellency.”

Even with his lack of a mark, something just felt…right about the thought that he was sitting, having dinner, with his soulmate. He didn’t voice this, not wanting to speak on such a personal matter with Franz around; he loved his best friend, but it wasn’t hard to see that the blond didn’t trust their host. 

Blue eyes glanced over at Franz, noticing the expression on his face, perhaps a change of topic…

“What did you think of the opera this evening?”

The brunet could only speak for himself, but he’d found that he enjoyed Lucia di Lammermor far more than he’d expected. Opera weren’t always something he attended, or enjoyed, but something about the tragedy of Lucia’s fate had captured his attention.

The tension in the air was palpable. While he and Albert did seem to get along quite nicely, him and Franz didn’t seem to. Though that thought didn’t particularly BOTHER the Count, as he was used to a far more grievous sin than dislike. The boy was merely protective of his young, naive friend. It was only natural for Franz to act that way. Though the rather paternal habit seemed more suited to that of a lover.

How VERY interesting. 

Still, the change of subject WAS welcoming, and he smiled at the memory of such a tragic performance. 

       ‘ Quite impressive. The singer who played Lucia was exceptionally                   so. ’

She was another performer who he met prior to the performance itself, hence the reason for the bouquet that he’d tossed to her at the very end of her act. It was also there where he’d seen Albert, who was staring at him from Countess G’s private box. All PLANNED, of course, and he had no intention of letting such a positive first impression go to waste. 

More food kept coming: enough to fill a young man’s appetite. Yet he refused to eat anything else, finding the promise of a LONGER conversation far more STIMULATING.

        ‘ And you, Franz? What did you think of the opera? ’

Steepling his fingertips together, he studied the other teenager across the table, a smirk hidden behind his hands.

[m0rscerta-blog1]

You're my favorite color (sad pick up line)

Anonymous | Sad Pick Up Line Meme

             ‘ Am I now? ’

AMUSEMENT flitted through a brief, yet wan smile. Praise and affection no longer affected him like these once did, for he knew that PRETTY WORDS had the capacity to lie. To betray. But he never showed such thoughts to the grey clad being, choosing instead to chuckle and portray SOME form of pleasure. 

              ‘ I am flattered by your choice. ’

[m0rscerta-blog1]

h0raincerta:

With the vertigo fogging his mind as it was, it was all Albert could to to let the Count help him sit up. He kept his head bowed until the spinning slowed enough for him to carefully blink his eyes open. He smiled a little at the other man’s words (trying to ignore the strange thrill that ran down his spine at the Count’s lowered voice) and nodded.

“Thank you.”

Without question he took the proffered glass, drinking in slow, but large, swallows. He hoped it would kick in soon so he could go find Valentine himself. Ever since that day at her home, when she’d been so vulnerable after Maximilian’s outburst, Albert found himself wanting her to be happy, whether it was with the soldier or not.

When the Count promised that whoever’d poisoned him would be found, Albert could tell the man was serious. The brunet felt a tell-tale heat rising to his cheeks and he ducked his head until it passed. The Count always got that reaction out of him, and he didn’t quite know why. His smile returned when the question about letting Franz and Maximilian in was voiced.

“Yes, I feel better now. And they should know about the poisoner too. Especially Maximilian.”

If anyone could, would, protect Valentine, it’d be him. Albert had first hand knowledge of the strength the soldier possessed, and could tell he’d go through hell for their mutual friend.

He nodded at that and opened the door. Franz and Maximilian looked at him and then at Albert. Franz stood up first, and he could see the CONCERN in the boy’s face. 

                 ‘ You may see him now. ’

The Count had no plans of staying; what the three men would discuss was for their ears alone. He had other things to attend to, including some damage control with what Heloise had done. He wasn’t sure how much poison Valentine had ingested, but if she hadn’t collapsed yet, then it was possible that she hadn’t drank any of the liquid yet. 

Baptistin was the first person he met after leaving Albert with his friends, and he immediately instructed the man to remove the pitcher of water from the Villeforts’ table. The party had ended, but he wasn’t going to RISK having anyone else getting poisoned. 

Heloise managed to find him in the gardens, her smile shy. It was OBVIOUS what she wanted from him, but he bid her a good night before walking back inside. 

And for the next few days, it seemed as if Heloise had kept her plans at bay. Just to be certain of Valentine’s welfare, he sent an invitation to the young viscount to have tea with him one afternoon. 

[m0rscerta-blog1]

h0raincerta:

Albert perked up at the Count’s words, and a smile returned to his face. It would work out, surely. The mark hadn’t looked to be fake to his eye, and how many times had he seen Franz’s, or Eugenie’s? He’d even been there the day Franz’s had formed, when somewhere in the world Noëlle Herbault had just been born.

Clearly the man before him was older, he should have been born with his mark, like Eugenie was. He made a note in his mind to ask his parents about it when he returned to Paris. For now he nodded and followed the Count back to the table where Franz waited. His friend leaned over and whispered in his ear as they walked to the table.

              “Is he…?”

“It seems that way. It didn’t appear fake at all.”

              “I wouldn’t get your hopes up too high, Albert. This is Luna, and you don’t have-”

Albert shook his head as they sat down at a table where several dishes had already been laid out. Franz was a natural worrier, always had been, but the viscount couldn’t believe someone would lie about being soul mates. It didn’t make sense. They’d never met and clearly the Count had enough affluence that he didn’t need to con him.

No Albert told himself, he wasn’t lying. With that thought he started on one of the strange dishes set before him and his friend, thrilled at the unexpected flavor of the dish, unlike anything he’d had before.

However, he noticed that the Count never touched a bite, and that all the food was positioned between him and Franz. Glancing over at their host when he spoke, he shook his head with a smile.

“We’re glad you invited us, though we’re the only ones eating. Have you already had your meal?”

             ‘ I don’t eat. Not as much as as a young man. ’

As he spoke, he brought a vial of pills, one of which he ingested and washed down with the wine. They didn’t need to know what the pills were for exactly, though he did pass these off as a way to control his appetite. Though he didn’t have any, not since his time in Chateau d’If. The prisoners were given a certain amount of food; no more, no less. He’d struggled with the new portions at first, but during his last few years, he finally got used to it.

So much so that he didn’t eat more than a few morsels each meal. It worried Haydee no end, but she knew better than to question him.

He gestured to the food in front of them, silently encouraging Albert to eat. The boy seemed more focused on what was happening to him than what he was eating. While the concern was touching, he tried not to pay too much attention to it. 

              ‘ Please, do not concern yourself with me. I am in                                 no immediate danger. ’

The Count watched the two boys, fascinated, and remembered of the times he spent with Fernand. A man he once considered his brother, only to be BETRAYED on the eve of his wedding with Mercedes. Maybe he should thank the former general for what he had done: it was his hatred of the man that helped him survive all those years in prison, and why the demon was even attracted to him in the first place. 

Still, he couldn’t help but smile at the prospect of having his rival’s son as a soulmate. It was both complicated and interesting, in the sense that it was proof that Fate did have a wry sense of HUMOR. 

[m0rscerta-blog1]

h0raincerta:

“Gankutsuou…”

The syllables were strange in his mouth, like nothing he’d ever heard before. But…yes… It fit his hazy memory of the creature with the strange voice that had taken over Edmond in those last minutes. That had haunted his nightmares for days, weeks, months after the events of that single night.

His stomach twisted again when that morning was mentioned. Unlike the night under the Champs Elysees, that one was far too clear, far too perfectly remembered. Albert couldn’t hold Edmond’s gaze at that moment, his head drooping as it flashed before him.

Waking to find he was late, Franz gone from the sleeping bag next to him.

Pushing his bike beyond its limit to get to the dueling ground, hoping, praying to get there in time.

The screech of metal piercing metal, despite his pleas for the man standing over the armor to stop, to hold his sword.

He thought he could hear Edmond continue speaking, but the words sounded fuzzy behind the sound of blood pumping in his ears, his hands in his lap began to shake.

His screams as he tears past the onlookers, yanking the figure with the bloodied sword away from the armor, his fingers tearing into the metal, as he yells for Franz to hang on.

Blood staining his hands as he holds Franz close, his friend’s words of comfort overruled by the words he’d spoken in a nightmare.

“You were the one who killed me”

                                                                              “You think of only yourself and you know it.”

“Every time I tried to tell you something you never listened.”

                                                                                                                                  “I’ll hate you.”

                                         “I’LL HATE YOU FOR AS LONG AS I LIVE.”

Something in him snapped and he bowed in half over where he sat sideways in the chair. Tears Albert had only just managed to keep inside when he visited the cemetery earlier came flooding out along with several wheezing breaths as he felt his chest tighten up. Still the words flowed out, breathless, choked.

“No…”

“My fault…”

“All my fault…”

He heard Albert’s sobs and he frowned. Had he been TACTLESS to speak of Franz’s death so freely? Perhaps. And he was sorry for it. Yet he still found it difficult to express his true emotions, having been used to clamp these down and hide them behind a perfectly painted mask. Oh he was learning slowly, but he couldn’t expect a sudden epiphany simply because of the former viscount’s grief. Not even HE possessed that power over him.

       ‘ Forgive me. If anyone is to take the blame, it                   should be me. I did not try...harder. ’

The Count had a small fraction of control, yet he didn’t try anything apart from the feeble flails and verbal defiance. It wasn’t until he saw the blood flow through the many wounds that he staggered, realizing what he had just done. What made it worse was that it could have been Albert behind the armor, and he hadn’t done ENOUGH. Bertuccio glanced behind him just to make sure that everything was okay, but like the Count, he frowned when he realized that Albert was sobbing. He and Baptistin didn’t move, however, knowing that the Count would handle it.

He rose, walking around the table and kneeling beside Albert’s chair. For a moment, one fleeting moment, he thought of carrying the young man and holding him until his sobs subsided. But Albert was no longer a fifteen-year old, naive boy; he was older, more mature, and wiser in the ways of the world. As much as he seemed to retain most of that naiveté, he had to consider that things had changed between them.

          ‘ It is not your fault. It is mine. You have every                         right to hate me, nor will I blame you for it. ’

His fingers brushed against Albert’s wrist, but he made no move to hold it, choosing instead to stand up, his head bowed. He half-expected the other to begin hitting him, if only to release some of that sorrow he felt.

[m0rscerta-blog1]

h0raincerta:

Almost immediately after his outburst the secretary wished he could take it back. The question still burned at him, but he knew he could have handled that better. Anger hadn’t ever gotten him anywhere good, only memories of regret and lost friends.

“Sorry, I just…”

Missed you. The words caught in his throat, and this time when the seat was offered, he took it, holding his downturned head in one of his hands. Albert wished there was something stronger than tea on the table. Even coffee would work, though he didn’t normally take his black he’d take it at that moment, anything to distract from the writhing hurt in his chest that Edmond had been alive all this time.

As the other man started speaking again, Albert pulled himself up to meet those duo toned eyes, listening as intently as he used to. At the question about the pills, he nodded, though he didn’t expect their true usage. He’d thought they’d both kept him nourished and helped his illness, or whatever it was that had been causing the transparency in Edmond’s skin. The brunet could still remember his shock, horror and pity at seeing half of the other man’s hand fade to only show bone while they were in Auteuil. Or perhaps…

“Was that the reason for your skin turning transparent? Something to do with whatever it was?”

Albert’d thought there was a name, a strange one that it had said that night. However many of his finer memories were blurred; he’d been in a lot of pain both physically and emotionally. A few things stuck with him; both Edmond’s (supposed) last words and the last things his father said to him. But other things were just blurs of what he’d seen and felt at the time. The truest, clearest memory he had was the moment he’d held and kissed the man before him, finally giving in to the feelings in his heart, though they only truly caused pain afterwards.

As Edmond continued talking, Albert kept listening. His words made sense, of course he wouldn’t want to be overpowered by the creature again. And while the brunet couldn’t help the small smile at learning that Edmond had kept an eye on him (probably through one of the two men that he glimpsed on the balcony every now and then, really he should have suspected) he still had one question that now burned to be asked.

“What, or who, is it? You alluded to something coming to you in the Chateau d’If but you didn’t really say anything specific. If possible… I want to know.”

If keeping the thing contained was the reason that Edmond had stayed away for five years, Albert wanted to know what it was the man before him was truly dealing with. He sensed no lies at all, and he’d become much better at recognizing them in the past five years, and if that were the case then…

Then maybe there was the slimmest chance that everything would turn out alright.

Ah yes.

Gankutsuou.

He could never finish an explanation without alluding to the demon that still writhed inside him, FURIOUS at being denied the control that he had been promised. It was risky to renege on a deal with such a demon, but with the failsafes in place, he hoped that he would at least be able to live a normal life without worries.

He wouldn’t have returned if he wasn’t absolutely sure, after all. The demon knew what his weak points were, one of them involving the man sitting across him. Steepling his fingertips together, he exhaled slowly.

       ‘ His name is Gankutsuou. I met him in the Chateau d’If, contained inside                   one of the other prisoners. He offered me...a chance. To avenge myself                  against the men responsible for taking me away from my happiness. ’

It was a memory he would NEVER forget, of how the prisoner’s body GLOWED with purple light before he accepted his role as the demon’s vassal. His skin grew blue, his strength more than doubled. He never looked back since then, and after amassing the wealth from Monte Cristo, he began his journey back to Paris. When he heard that the viscount was on Luna, however, he made a quick detour to meet the then fifteen-year old Albert de Morcerf.

      ‘ I was a very angry man. His presence inside me turned my skin blue, and                  there were times when he resurfaced. Including that night. ’

The Count was referring to the day Franz died, of course. Even though he was desperate to break through, to stop the MADNESS, the demon had forced the blade through the armor and pierced Franz through. Only then did Gankutsuou flee, leaving him to deal with the CONSEQUENCES of his actions. It was a night he regretted deeply, a night that still continued to torment him even as he slept. Maybe that was the demon’s intention: to leave him with some deep-seated regret that would stay with him no matter what. Well, it had SUCCEEDED.

Another sigh slipped from his lips and he lowered his head briefly.

       ‘ So you see, Albert, my deception was within reason. I apologize for any                    grief I may have caused, however. I must admit that I underestimate the                    depth of emotion that you have for me. ’

That thought finally made him smile, though it was short-lived. He also chose to stay away from both Albert and Mercedes, knowing that they both needed to grieve. And Albert had the rest of his life ahead of him; he wasn’t about to get in the way of that. As vindictive as he could be, he wasn’t unnecessarily CRUEL. He finished his pastry shortly after that and poured himself a fresh cup of tea. If there were other questions that Albert had, he would answer them truthfully. But until then, he remained silent, contemplative, as he waited for the other to decide whether they could and should continue what friendship they had  all those years ago.

[m0rscerta-blog1]

Bon soir dear Count. A question for you. If you had the chance to travel back in time and prevent your imprisonment and live your life with Mercedes, but know that Albert would cease to exist completely, would you take the chance?

Anonymous | Answered 

His breath caught, but did he really have to THINK about the answer? The hardships he endured in the Chateau d’If were terrible, yes, but he had since learned to accept them. But the LOSS of Albert would leave a deep VOID that not even Mercedes would be able to fill.

And so, his answer would be absolute. 

               ‘ Better my humanity die than he. ’

[m0rscerta-blog1]

Happy birthday Count!!!

Anonymous | Answered 

RARE though it was, the Count smiled. 

Albert had reassured him that the celebrations would be minimal, attended only by close friends and family. Haydee couldn’t attend, but he understood. A young queen had PLENTY of responsibilities. While Maximilian and Valentine tried keeping the former’s younger siblings AWAY from the cake, he turned to the grey clad guest.

               ‘ Thank you. You must be an acquaintance of Albert’s. ’

[h0raincerta-blog]

                  Death is Certain

                                  Its Hour Uncertain

for @m0rscerta

[m0rscerta-blog1]

h0raincerta:

Albert could tell Franz didn’t like the fact that the count wanted to talk to him alone after such a strange statement, but he followed the taller man until they were mostly out of earshot. His gaze was drawn to the man’s arm, pure blue skin interrupted only by dark lines on the top that seemed to continue into his glove and further up his arm, then on the inside of his arm

Albert de Morcerf

His name

Until the moment the Count rolled his sleeve down, Albert could only stare, and then look up to meet the strange mismatched eyes resting in the man’s aristocratic face.

“I… I don’t know what to say. I never… I don’t…”

How could he tell the man who bore his name that he didn’t have a name to match? Was this some cruel trick? Was the man a con like Franz was so certain? Shaking his head he collected his thoughts before speaking up again, beginning to roll up the sleeve of his jacket and shirt to bare his forearm. The skin there was clear, showing no sign of a name, or the yearly operations it went through to treat a skin condition.

“I…don’t have your name, Excellency. I don’t know why or how you could have mine without I having yours. I’m sorry.”

His gaze lowered at the same time as he let his sleeves down. He didn’t understand, this was supposed to be a happy moment, finally meeting the person he would have in his life for forever. So what if it turned out to be a man, Eugenie’s was a woman, and Albert didn’t have the experience to have an impression (not counting his and Franz’s ‘experiment’ when they were ten) of which gender he preferred. Was he…defective somehow? 

          ‘   How odd. Though I doubt my skin would LIE. Perhaps the                             answer will come to us in its own time.    ’

He didn’t look too concerned that his supposed ‘soulmate’ didn’t have his name anywhere. The Count already suspected that SOMEONE was tampering with Albert’s skin, and he knew who was spiteful enough to do that. But rather than say negative things about the boy’s father, he chuckled as if the whole situation was AMUSING.

           ‘   But come, eat. You and Franz must be HUNGRY.    ’

By the time they both returned to the table, various dishes had already been laid out. These were just some of the food that he tasted during his travels, allowing the two teenagers to sample the various delicacies from all four corners of the galaxy. He’d amassed a huge collection of recipes during his travels, and he kept those that he liked the most.

But while Franz and Albert were invited to eat, he didn’t. He never did whenever it was time to take his pills, and he subtly checked the clock on the mantelpiece to see how much longer he had. A glass of wine was set in front of him, and he pulled it closer to him.

             ‘    I must thank you both for accepting my invitation. I                                    understand that you might find it unusual to receive                                   such a message from someone whom you BARELY know.    ’

It was clear that Franz wasn’t very enthusiastic about being there, but Albert...oh, he understood the kind of character the boy had. He was once like that, a long time ago, and his heart almost ACHED at the innocence that the viscount possessed.

[m0rscerta-blog1]

h0raincerta:

The viscount breathed a sigh of relief at that, glad that his parents were unharmed. Despite all the tension at home the past few days, he didn’t know what he’d do if something happened to them.

Extracting an arm from the blankets, Albert reached for the medicine, when the Count mentioned whose table the water had been at. Eyes widening, Albert sat up, ignoring the slight vertigo the sudden movement caused. He was focused on Valentine’s face, her mouth turned up in a smile as she spoke happily with Maximilian. It was the first time he’d ever seen her actually happy. Some poisoner couldn’t take that away from her!

“They should be warned before any of them drink it! Valentine wasn’t looking well and she may drink without knowing any better!”

He’d been saved by a quick response, but if Maximilian was waiting outside for him, the shy girl may be on her own.

Albert started to extract himself from the sheets when another wave of nausea hit, not as strong as his first out in the court yard, but enough for him to bow over, his hand coming to cover his eyes as the world spun around him.

The viscount’s enthusiasm only led to him keeling over in bed: an act that the Count responded to by helping him sit up properly. His next words were low, meant to be SOOTHING, as he poured some of the liquid into the glass.

            ‘    Your concern for your friends is admirable. I shall make sure no                                    harm comes to her.    ’

He did not, however, make the same promises about the Crown Prosecutor or his wife. There were many ways that Villefort could be harmed, either through Cavalcanti or by seducing Heloise. But for now, he had to make sure that none of the poison’s effects would affect Albert in any way. He still NEEDED the boy; he hadn’t made his move against Fernand just yet.

             ‘    If you insist on helping her in your own way, I suggest you regain                                     your strength. It will do neither of you any good if you insist on                                    PUSHING yourself like this.   ’

With a reassuring smile, he got up and walked to the door. As he placed his hand on the latch, however, he turned to look at Albert.

              ‘   Rest assured that whoever is responsible will be found. Do you                                    wish to see your friends? They have been waiting anxiously for                                     you to wake.    ’

[m0rscerta-blog1]

h0raincerta:

In a single moment, all the dreams and wishes his sixteen year old mind had longed to come true flooded back to him. How often had he dreamed that somehow the Count, no, Edmond, would return? That he would receive another of those black envelopes engraved with a gold ‘M’ inviting him to some event or for dinner at the fantastic garden under the Champs Elysees? That he and Franz and his father were still alive and nothing had changed.

But every morning he’d awoken to nothing. He’d grieved, doubly hard since his father had taken his own life only moments after telling Haydee and himself to escape the falling structure. And he had to deal with it all without both his best friends, Eugenie having left just days before and Franz…

Being out of Paris, and finding something to occupy his time, had helped. He’d thrown himself into his studies. Eventually the dreams faded, and he found himself moving on, living his life as he’d promised the dying man he would. 

Yet now, here he stood, facing Edmond again with a similar expression to when he’d first seen the man striding towards him outside the opera house on Luna. He hadn’t changed a bit, his skin its cool blue tone, ruby and acid green eyes piercing his own. Then he spoke, the deep baritone washing over the former viscount. He barely heard the words said, something about this being a shock.

Yeah, just a bit…

He remained rooted outside the door while Edmond turned and ventured back into the room. Albert thought he saw a glimpse of a tea tray, fully set with pastries. It seemed this was a set up, though not by one of the friends he’d expected. How long had Edmond been planning this? Did anyone else know?

When the other man spoke up a second time, Albert heard him all too clearly. Slowly, as if wading through tar, he stepped in the room, closing the door behind him. At the same pace he approached the table, but stopped short of sitting down, his eyes on Edmond’s.

“…How…?”

It was the only word he could get past the lump in his throat at being in such a seemingly normal situation. How many times had he shared a table with the man across from him, hanging on to every word, blind to the truth of things? 

To his surprise, he felt anger beginning to bubble within him. Not at the other’s actions, but that he’d been alive all this time and hadn’t come to him. Had Edmond been so unaware of the kiss that had haunted Albert’s thoughts? To Albert’s willingness to die for him if it meant Edmond’s tormented soul would be at peace?

To the fact that despite everything he did, despite all that happened, Albert had fallen in love with him?

“All this time… For five years… You’ve been alive?”

There was a weight to his words as the secretary could feel his hands clench, trying to fight back his anger, to keep himself calm, but the struggle was real, was written all over his face as he spoke six more words.

“Where the hell have you been?”

           ‘   Quite alive, yes.    ’

Yet any further EXPLANATION was silenced the moment the other spoke, no, shouted at him. And for a moment, he believed that Albert was still a boy of fifteen and naive to the evils of the world. But he knew that TIME had passed and robbed them both of chances. He could understand the other’s anger, of course, yet he made the decision to stay away. Mostly to keep the demon kept dormant within him. The special drugs never failed, but he wanted a more PERMANENT solution.

The name GANKUTSUOU was one that many feared to speak, and there were few eager to share what they knew about the demon. He had anticipated it would take him no more than a year, but it was until his third year that he found a source. Finally, it took him two more years to ascertain that the procedure worked. Only then did he set course for Paris, settling in a private villa close to Marseilles. He debated whether to visit Mercedes first, before deciding there was someone who deserved to know before anyone else.

Someone who looked none too pleased at his sudden appearance.

            ‘    Here and there. Space is a VAST area, but what I sought was                   limited. Please, sit down. I am aware that I owe you a great                   many things, including an explanation.    ’

Again he gestured to the seat across from him, clearly PATIENT. Bertuccio and Baptistin were in the balcony, keeping watch as always, and neither would INTERFERE unless called for. The Count – he disliked using his actual name – waited until Albert was seated before he moved. After dropping a sugar cube into his tea and stirring it, he set the spoon down on the saucer and placed his arms on the armrest.

             ‘    You remember those pills that I used to take, Albert? Good.                    They kept it under control, you see, but after what happened                    in my former home...    ’

He trailed off, remembering. A sliver of him had awoken at that moment: the instant soft lips touched his. And he knew that if it was EASY for the demon to take hold of him, everyone he would be in danger. The Count wasn’t willing to risk that a second time, hence the elaborate CHARADE. He hoped that Albert would understand him in the end, of course. Ah, such a foolish boy, really, but he couldn’t deny his feelings for Albert any longer. His foolish boy.

               ‘    I realized I could not continue without knowing him completely                     contained. And so I spent the better part of those five years in                     search of a solution. One that I believe I have FOUND. I did keep                     a close watch on your progress, as I always have.    ’

Only then did he smile. He was there during Albert’s triumphs and failures, and he instructed Baptistin to check on Haydee’s progress as well. Both of them were doing well, and if he had really died, he would have been PROUD of both of them. But of course, his main concern was Albert. Rather than prompt a response from him, the Count leaned back, sipping his tea.