#roman lucious

[sheriffnorthman]

Home is Where The Silent Heart Is - @fangtastic_Pam

He had risen for the night as soon as the sun had fallen below the horizon and made quick work of preparing for the evening. The kilts and flip-flops he had worn nightly since they had arrived in Scotland were left untouched as he dressed instead in a soft knit sweater, dress pants, and even dress shoes. If anything would have tipped others off to the fact that this night would not be like the other nights of their holiday, he was sure that would have been it, but it was a special occasion, for someone of the utmost importance to him, and he would mark it accordingly.

While he drank down a bottle of blood from the mini-fridge of his room, he had exchanged a quick series of text messages with @RomanLucious. He had given his Second-in-Command a brief summary of his plans for the night before leaving the safety of and responsibility for their party in his hands. He had every confidence his Deputy would make certain everyone continued to enjoy themselves without disaster striking, and with Roman's blessing, he had switched his phone off and tucked it away, more than ready to forget it for the remainder of the evening.

From his room, he had ventured the short distance down the hall to @fangtastic_Pam's, his knuckles rapping on the wooden surface a few times before the door had opened to reveal the room's only occupant. Her eyes had lit up the moment she had seen the small box, topped with a bow, that he held in his hands, but as her hand had snatched forward to grab the gift, he had held it out of the reach of her outstretched fingers. He had smirked at her fruitless attempts to reach it, and hadn't even surrendered the present when her stiletto did its best to put a hole through both his dress shoes and his foot.

Instead, he had simply shook his head. “Not here. Not now. Get your coat. We're going out, and though I can feel you want to drag your feet, do not. We have a schedule to keep.”

She had huffed and pouted and protested and cursed. No one loved presents quite as much as his child, and the Viking was completely aware that dangling a gift in front of her only to deny her it constituted torture in her eyes, but he hadn't been deterred in the slightest. Instead, he only aggravated her further by pilfering her phone and tucking it away to join his own in the depths of his pockets.

He hadn't offered her a single hint of their plans in answer to the myriad of questions she had thrown at him while they had descended the elevator to the lobby, nor the ones that had followed during the cab ride to the airport. She had become entirely silent then, though the daggers she glared at him spoke volumes on her behalf.

Pam hated flying and he knew that. He could only chuckle.

The silence lingered long after they had boarded the private Anubis jet he had hired for the night. A few curses muttered under her breath had slipped out when the plane had taken off, and despite the fact that she looked put out to even be offered it, she had accepted his hand when he held it out to her. He was cursing right along with her by the time the plane leveled out after take off. She had broken no less than three of his fingers.

She still refused to talk to him, but that was fine by him. Words between them were seldom a requirement. He could feel every emotion that flitted through her, and he knew her as well as he knew himself.

She was aggravated and annoyed, of that there was no doubt, but beneath what she had no qualms displaying outwardly for the world to see, she was curious, anxious, and even excited. Pam was nearly impossible to surprise, and she knew he must have gone through great efforts and to great lengths to do so now.

And she definitely wasn't wrong.

She made no protests when he offered her hand to lead her off the plane when it landed a little over an hour after it had taken off. He knew she knew where they were, and her hand seemed to hold his a little tighter than necessary because of it.

He waved off the car Anubis had waiting for them, and instead led her into the night on foot. These were her streets, her home, and though they had only walked them once in over a hundred years time, he was positive Pam knew every one of them by heart.

“Did I ever tell you what it was like the first time I returned to my home after I was made vampire?” he asked, his eyes cheating over to her briefly as they walked the mostly empty and quiet streets of Brighton. “It was many, many years after my death. I was with my Maker for centuries, and he was not one to allow for such sentimental ventures. I knew better than to even ask. Even after I had been released by him, however, it took me years to actually make the journey. After I had made it, I wished I had not.”

His eyes looked up to the sky. It was a foggy night as was often the case in England, but somewhere behind the clouds overhead a full moon hung to light the sky. “I made the journey on my own,” he continued, after a moment. “I am uncertain what it was I had expected to find, but it had been a mistake to go looking for it. What I found instead was... painful. The place I had left, the people I had known... They died with me all those years ago. The passage of time had changed the landscape I had known, and it belonged to new generations I did not know and could no longer understand. Every face I passed was searched for recognition, but...” His voice trailed off as his eyes stared unblinkingly ahead of him, replaying a memory he cared not to possess, and for a long moment, nothing but silence passed between them.

Finally, he took an unnecessary breath. “I had waited too long. I was a relic that lingered long after my time. It was a harsh reality to face. Make no mistake, I did not regret my continued existence, but a single journey and a single night had aged me centuries. My home was gone and it remains gone to this day. I can return to a land that had once been my home, I can walk the same earth my feet tread in the light of day, it can be called my homeland, but it is not familiar, it is not important, and it is not mine. I can make new homes in new places with new faces, but that one-- my first-- I cannot get back. I have accepted this, but it took a toll then.”

Running his thumb over her own on their clasped hands, he could feel the conflicting emotions running through her now, but he had so much more to say, and he could tell she would let him say it now. “Eight months ago, when you first debated coming here, I was certain of two things. First, I knew you had to do it, despite your own reservations. It is something we all must face in time, especially those of us who existed so long before the Great Revelation, those of us who had no choice but to leave all we knew behind in order to keep our secrets silent. Secondly, I knew I had to be with you when you did, because I would not allow you to know the loneliness I knew when doing it myself.

“I will admit, I was concerned,” he continued. “It may no longer feel like much to me, but a century is a long time. You had such hopes, most of which you didn't even speak, but I could feel them, and I worried you would be disappointed in what you found. I should have known better,” he admitted with a small smirk. “If any vampire could appreciate the modernization of the world they had once known, it had to be you. I should have known you would have no objection to familiar landmarks being replaced by things such as shopping centers, but still, I worried. It is one thing to see a few McDonalds' amid the landscape. It is yet another to discover your childhood home has become one. Even after you confirmed the house still stood, I worried it would disappoint you.”

As they turned down the street she had grown up on, he wondered if she was hearing him any longer, or just staring at the home she had been raised in. “The elation you felt when we gained admittance to the house as “Beatrice” and “Reginald” was something I am uncertain I have ever felt from you before, yet I also know it was difficult for you. You retrieved the box of mementos we had come in search of, and it was something, but it had been your home, filled with your memories, and now, you were the stranger within it, someone who had to lie to simply cross the threshold. I did not want that for you. It seemed cruel.”

He stopped walking as they reached the walkway that led to the door of her childhood home, he turned to face her, grabbing hold of her other hand so both were trapped within his own as his eyes looked down into hers. “Since the night I found you, you have been my child, my family, and my home, and I nearly lost you last year. I doubt I would have endured the loss. I am uncertain I could rebuild again. Someone else holding the fate of my home in their hands was cruel, and there will never be words that can convey the relief I felt when you were whole and safely with me once more. You deserve nothing less than the very same.”

He pressed a kiss to her forehead before releasing her hands and shoving his own into his pockets. “Did you know those humans-- the Haggertys-- had no interest in entertaining offers upon this dwelling?” he asked rather rhetorically while casually strolling up the walkway of the house. “When they were first approached with a generous bid on the behalf of an interested, supposedly-American party shortly after our trip here, they balked at it. In fact, they found it prudent to state their home was soon to be featured in the Brighton Home Journal and was, in no circumstances, up for sale,” he added with a smirk. “The interested party, however, was not deterred, and great sums of money have a tendency to speak much more loudly than words of refusal. The Haggertys have since moved into a much larger home. I hear Mrs. Haggerty has already begun to remodel it. I am sure there is crown molding everywhere.”

After reaching the door, he pulled his hands from his pockets and with them, the box he had dangled in front of her hours earlier. Holding it out for her to take and open, the key to the front door of the house laid within. “It may have taken eight months and more money than I wish to think about, but it is yours now, just as it should be. No matter where the centuries may take you, no matter how the world may change, this piece of it will always belong to you. If you are even a small fraction as thankful for it as I am to have you in this world, that is more than enough, and more than I deserve.”

Pausing for only a moment, there was only one thing left to say. “Welcome home, Pam.”

[claude-crane]

Just In Case

Claude had set out through the maze of hallways within the Maxwell house with no clear destination in mind, but that hadn't stopped him from knowing when he had found the place he was looking for. On the uppermost level of the house that had been both his home and prison for the last few months he had located it, a small room packed tight with old furniture and unmarked, packed boxes. The air of the room was stale from disuse, and when he had dragged an old desk and chair to rest in front of the small window of the room, he had kicked up a layer of dust that swirled haphazardly in the rays of the sun the glass pane allowed.

It seemed as good a place as any to confront his mortality and fully acknowledge the reality of the situation that laid in front of him.

There was no point in denying the gravity of the situation now; denying it wouldn't stop @BrodyKeyes and those he had turned to from ending his life at any given moment, no matter how much he and everyone else may have wished it might have. Victory wasn't guaranteed, and in this situation, the alternative to victory was simply and only death for him. There was nothing in between. It was a difficult truth to swallow, but that didn't stop it from being the truth, and he had to prepare for the worst, despite how difficult it was, despite how much it hurt to do so.

Fairies were taught not to fear death-- the Summerlands were a reward, not a threat, nor a punishment-- and he wasn't afraid now, but that didn't mean he was ready for everything he had known and built to be gone. He wasn't ready to be gone. He knew this world would keep on turning, he knew the people he loved and treasured would move forward-- because they had to, because they were as familiar with loss as he himself was, because they were survivors-- but that was only a small comfort when he was facing his likely end. A hundred and thirty-nine years hadn't been nearly enough time. There was still so much he wanted to experience. There was still so much he wanted to see. There was still so much he wanted to say.

He couldn't do anything about the things left undone and unseen, but he still had the chance to say what was in his heart, and with it, perhaps bring comfort to the people he would be leaving behind if the witch had his way. The farewell all fairies gave when fading was little more than a brief moment to say goodbye, mere seconds before they were erased from the world as if they had never been in it at all, but this would be more permanent and complete. Right now, he had time, and there was no better way he could use it, even if he wouldn't be able to ever find the time to say something to everyone he wanted to, or everyone who deserved to hear from his heart.

Curling up on the dusty chair, his eyes moving from absently staring out the window to the pieces of paper he had brought with him to the room, he began writing.

Dear @CeliaTB, @Jared_Wolfe, and @WitchyRose,

I love you. I hope you know that, that you never forget it, and don't doubt it, no matter what.

I want to thank you for everything you did to help me in this whole battle with the ginger creeper, from the bottom of my heart. If you're reading this now, things didn't work out the way we all hoped and I'm gone, but that's not your fault, and I don't blame you for it, not even a little bit. I know you did everything you could to help me, even though you didn't have to. You put up with prison conditions and angsty, ill-tempered, violent vampires to help save innocent lives, and I can't thank you enough for it. In a situation like this, it's so easy to hate witches-- fairies are practically trained from birth to do so-- but Jared and Rose, you've been giving yourselves freely and sharing your talents openly because it's the right thing to do, and you've made me put my preconceived notions about witches aside and confront my prejudices. Not all witches are good, but you two are. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise, now or ever.

Celia, I can't thank you enough for sharing them with me and others that I love and care about. You are a lucky bitch, cousin, and I admire you so much for being able to see past the innate prejudices we're taught early on, especially when I know firsthand how difficult that can be. Your generosity, your ability to see the good in people, and to love is something I wish more of our family had, and though I tease you sometimes for not inheriting the family's knack for violence, I want you to know I admire your resolve and your bravery to have it. Brave may not be the way you'd describe yourself, but believe me, you are. You wouldn't have done everything you have for me if you weren't.

Take care of your witches, and let them take care of you. Live a long and happy life. Have a hundred kids. I hope I don't see you in the Summerlands for eons, if it's possible. I promise to tell your mother and father what an incredible fairy you've become, how happy you are, and you better believe I'm going to boast about everything you and your witches did for me and the others over the last few months. I know they're going to be so proud of you. I'll keep an eye on them in our fabulous paradise if you'll check in on the pugpires every now and then and read them Pugs in a Bug. It's still their favorite.

Jared and Rose, even though you're not exactly family officially, you really are family to me. You're new and fabulous additions, and we're lucky to have you as a part of it. I wish I could have gotten to know you better. Take care of Celia. Love her and protect her because she deserves to be loved and protected. Love and protect one another because you deserve the same.

Put a pair of fucking fabulous rings-- the kind you can't even afford and fear you'll be paying for for the first ten years of your marriage, because they deserve it-- on them while you can, Jared. Time is just too damn short to waste, believe me. Don't let something that brings you happiness slip through your fingers by your doing, because there are plenty of things out there that will try to rip it from your hands even if you're bound tightly and permanently, I'm testament to that. Don't lose them. Don't lose each other.

Celia, I've made sure if anything happens to me, that you get a check for one hell of a shopping spree. Go to Thailand, spoil yourself rotten, spend senselessly and fabulously, and know it's exactly what I want. Also, make sure you use some of it to buy copies of every romance novel I've ever appeared on the cover of. Set them around your house so Jared can feel me watching him and judging him from the Summerlands until he puts a ring on it.

Jared and Rose, granted, I don't know much about witchy magic beyond how it feels, but I do know you guys are capable of pretty much turning anything into a valuable resource if given the opportunity. I want you to receive a portion of the fabulous dust I leave behind. That has to be the kind of magical ingredient that's nearly impossible to find or obtain, and I'm sure it has to be as magical as the fairy that creates it. Take some of what I create and use it, sell it, share it, exchange it, do whatever you want with it, and don't feel guilty to do so. You deserve it. It's not me, not anymore, but maybe it could help you in the future.

I'll miss you, my fabulous and witchy cousins. And just so you know, if you want to have a baby and name it after me, I'm completely fine with that.

Dear @SonnyAlvarez,

If you're reading this, Mr. Army Man, it means this world is a much, much less fabulous place, and I'm sure you're grieving in a big way for it. No one can blame you for that. You've been a lucky bitch to know me, even if you never got the opportunity to know me like I know you secretly wanted to, and believe me, that was really your loss. I could have taught you things even the Kama Sutra hasn't figured out yet, but you missed your chance at that even before I went to the Summerlands because I am a very happily married and fully satisfied fairy. I just wanted one last chance to rub in the fact that you did miss the chance now, though I'm positive it will haunt you for the rest of your life. Woulda, coulda, shoulda.

Take care of Jo. We both know she's tough as nails on the outside, but she has a gooey core she tries not to let other people see if she can help it. I know it may not make any sense to you, me being her “mom” when I didn't even know her until after she was already an adult, and when I didn't even marry her adopted Maker until a little over a year ago, and when, also, I happen to be a man, but it doesn't stop me from feeling like she's my own anyway. She needs someone to let her rant to, and to tell her everything is going to be okay. She needs someone to defend her and protect her at times, even if she'd insist she can take care of herself. Please do that for her, and for me.

And please pageant mom Lily for me. She is a fabulous little bitch and she deserves every ultimate grand supreme crown in every pageant she enters. That little girl is surrounded by a lot of pirepeople, and in a way, she's lucky for it, but someone has to make sure she gets to experience everything she wants to, including things that happen outside of the night hours. Remember... Ballet on Mondays, tap on Tuesdays, jazz on Wednesdays, and gymnastics on Thursdays. Don't pass this off to Fernando. He'd make a terrible pageant mom.

I'm leaving you a part of Hooligans... A third of it to be exact. No one knows how my club runs better than you do, and I know you'll see that it continues to be the place for men and women to ogle bare flesh now that I'm gone. I'm not going to lie, you're going to find out you could have been given so many raises for putting up with the cougars and I still would've been making money hand over fist, but good luck taking that up with me now. You're getting a part of the club, that has to make us even.

I'd tell you to miss me, but we both know you will. I'm fabulous, and there's no point in trying to deny that you know I am now that I'm dead. Also, if you want to make a shrine in my honor and weep openly over it, I'm okay with that, just FYI.

Dear @LaceyTB, @AbigaleDawson, @RebelMDash, @VampyJo, @fangtastic_Pam, @winnieYTM, @CalienteChloe, and @BrookeFerrior,

I am going to miss you bitches so much. This isn't some tequila-laced affection either. As I'm writing this, I'm completely sober (though I'd be lying if I said I hadn't considered changing that). I love you girls like you're my sisters, and I feel like the luckiest fairy who ever existed for having had you in my fabulous life these last few years. You drove me up the wall, made me side eye so often a human would've been dizzy, threatened to give me my first gray hair ever, and contributed to me doing what would have been irreparable damage to my liver if I wasn't a fairy, and I adore each of you so much for it. The men in this realm have been fabulous fun, but you bitches are a big part of why I stayed and never regretted a day of my time here. I'd have been lost without you.

If you're reading this, it means I'm in the Summerlands, but it's okay. It's not fair, and I wish my time wasn't up because I have so many things left to do, but no one ever said any of this was fair, and you girls know that better than most people ever could. I had a great life, and that's in large part because of you. If tanning is possible in the Summerlands, you can bet your fabulous asses that's what I'm doing right now, so don't you dare get puffy eyes or cry blood tears (ew.) for me. And if any one of you bitches is wearing black, I may very well find a way to haunt you from beyond the grave because each of you know full well how I feel about the excessive use of black apparel.

Homance, we've come a long way. When we first met, you were in that tacky, redneck phase of yours you still tragically revert to occasionally and I... Well, I was as fabulous and flawless as ever (what? We both know it's true). I demanded you take numerous trips to the spa and change out much of your wardrobe before we could be friends, and I'm relieved you did, but the truth is I was the one who was lucky to get your friendship. I've never had a secret I couldn't trust you with, and anytime I needed a shoulder to lean on, I've always known you'd be there. We've seen one another through some of the biggest ups and downs imaginable... and then even through some that are literally beyond imagination yet we still wound up going through them. Our friendship is the kind that's imprinted deep within me, and I'm positive I'll still feel you, even if we're worlds apart and will never see one another again. I'm a lucky bitch for that.

I hope and even pray (I'm not sure that works though, I'm still new to this whole trying to be Catholic thing) that Mr. Tackett has made it out of this okay. I know you wouldn't let go of him easily, and you need that man as much as he needs you. Don't let go of him, of Wes, or of the boyfriend either, for that matter. Take care of them and let them take care of you. I know you're as stubborn a bitch as I am, and you're pireperson strong and fast and that's very impressive, but let them take care of you now and then. You need that, even though I have a hard time imagining you saying so aloud. I know you, and I know you need it. Trust the dead (yet still fabulous) fairy.

And I want to say I'm sorry. I'm sorry for missing your wedding, and so much of Wes' early life, and so many more important things because I was scared. It was stupid of me to be frightened of your fangs... And I don't mean just because I'm around them now on a constant basis, but because they were your fangs. I know I wasn't the only one afraid, I know you wouldn't want to have inadvertently hurt me as well, but it was still a stupid fear. We don't do that to each other. We never have. Men and jealous bitches come and go and break our hearts and cut us deep, and make us bleed from wounds both visible and not, but we never did that to one another, and never would have. I need you to know that even when I was stupidly scared, I loved you and missed you and thought of you often. Separated again, now, I will love you and miss you and think of you often.

Mrs. Dawson, go back a few years and if I was writing you a letter like this I'd just say... congratulations bitch, you finally got what you wanted. It should be obvious, but I'm glad that's not the case anymore. It's almost a shame we spent so much time being bitter enemies, because we really could have been the most fabulous of friends that entire time, but lemon just has a way of coming between people. Anyway, no hard feelings about the time you nearly killed me in a tacky, tacky nightclub full of really obnoxious and desperate humans. I was being a bitch (I don't think I deserved to die for it, but I don't think I deserve to be dead now either... clearly, shit happens), and I'm sorry for my part in it. At least we made up and made up for lost time this last year.

One last time, I maintain all signs point to you having fairy in your family tree. I'm sure you want to shrug it off again, but I really think you should look into it, and not just because it would be so much more fabulous for you to be more than just a simple, boring human (no offense), but because if you are, it is a part of who you are, and everyone has a right to know who they are and where they come from. Don't settle for what you already know or the gift you already have or the life you already lead, not when you can have more, or deserve more. Don't be scared to go looking, because there are plenty of things worth your fear, but who you are isn't one of them. You owe it to yourself to know, and it's never to late to discover yourself. The creepy witch who killed me isn't the only one out there who casts a wide net when it comes to senseless, blind hate. Arm yourself with anything and everything you want and can, because you deserve to be able to fight for yourself and what you love.

Now that said, I want you to know you helped make lockup bearable. I'm going to miss drinking tequila with you until I can't actually remember drinking tequila with you. I'm going to miss not being the only sane one in a room full of pirepeople, and I'm going to miss no longer exchanging sideways glances as we silently judge them while outwardly being supportive. I'm going to miss having someone to design with (because let's face it, vampires are hopeless aesthetically), and I hate that I'm not going to see the end result of our work on the casino. I hope you finish it for the both of us, and I ask that every once in a while, you check in on anywhere Roman might live and make sure he doesn't revert to bad design choices for me. Someone has to save my husband from himself when it comes to interior design, and if it can't be me, I trust you to do it.

Michelle, for Faery's sake, I wish I could have known you sooner. You are a fabulous bitch, and I knew from nearly the first time we crossed paths that we were two peas from the same pod. How close we've become this quickly is testament to how right I was, and just further proof that I really am right about everything, just like I always say I am. I've been able to relate to you on a lot of levels... From reluctant royalty, to a fabulous sense of fashion, to a shopping sense that's practically art, to loving someone common sense tells you you shouldn't, to finding many an answer to life's problems in the bottom of a bottle... We could pretty much be twins. Well, quadruplets, I guess, since I'm already a triplet, but that's beside the point.

The point is (yes, there actually was one), I adore you, and want you to know just how much I've appreciated your friendship. You may be a new friend, but quantity of time has nothing to do with quality. You were there with me for some truly important moments. You were there with me in Rio, celebrating with me and for me when it still felt like a lot of people didn't “approve” of it. You were there when I was stuck under the awful effects of that creeper witch's magic, even though I was sobbing all over everyone and eating ice cream like my life depended upon it. And you were there with me on my wedding day, doing shots in my hotel room while reassuring me my wedding would be everything I wanted and deserved, and you didn't leave my side until I was joining Roman to walk down the aisle. I hope I've been even half the friend to you that you've been to me, I hope I've been there for you when you needed me, and I'm sorry I won't be there for you in the future. My absence is so not by choice.

If you can find the time, I'd really appreciate if you visited the pugpires now and then. They adore their Auntie Michelle, and Faery knows Roman will keep feeding them blood for as long as he has them. My little, supernatural bitches could probably do well with regular check-ups to make sure they're as fabulous as ever, and since you're already familiar with the only Doctor they've ever seen... maybe it wouldn't be too much trouble. Just saying...

HoAnna, mama loves you. I may not be able to say it anymore to you, but you damn well better know it and remind yourself of it every single night because it is just that true. This would probably sound crazy to anyone else, but I know you'll understand: you are absolutely my daughter and I love and adore you just as much as I would if you were actually my own. Family isn't about blood or age or even length of time spent together. Family is about who you love and what unites you together, and I just know in my heart I adore you just as much as-- if not more than-- I would have anything I was genetically responsible for. Having my own family never really seemed like a possibility for someone like me, and I didn't dare ever to hope I might have one, but through so many twists of fate, I had one... and it was absolutely the most fabulous thing I've ever known. You were a vital part of that, and I can't thank you enough for it, even if it was much too brief, and gone long before I was ready to lose it. Having a family was incredibly rewarding, and if the only child I ever get to know was a fully grown adult daughter who also happens to be dead and is only “mine” through a vampire adoption and my sudden marriage to her adopted Makerpire... then that's enough.

I hope I was there for you when you needed me, because you were there for me when I needed you. I really did try, even when I didn't fully agree with you, or even when I didn't agree with you at all. You never made me censor myself, or judged me for a diva moment. In fact, you usually defended them (minus the ones that you yourself caused), and I appreciate that. I'm leaving it to you to keep our little makeshift family together, because I know if anyone can do it, it's you. I know your daddypire can sometimes be insensitive, and speak before he thinks, and acts before he thinks, and communicates as often with fists, guns, and grunts as he does with his grown-up words, and is steadily in the midst of trouble... (who am I kidding? This is actually most of the time, but Faery help me, I still love that vampire despite it all) but try to be patient with him. He loves you, and he's going to need you now, because he's going to blame himself for things that aren't his fault. Please don't let him.

And if I can get away with making a second dying request of you... Have my husband's name removed from your ass even though I'm no longer here to side eye the hell out of it. I'm pretty sure he won't like that, but I don't like being dead, so he can just deal with it. Honestly, it's a tacky and creepy reminder that's no better than when he regularly reminded me I was the third Crane he lured in and I resent you both a bit for it. But I love you both more than I resent it. Just so you know, in case there was any doubt.

Pam, you are a bitch, but you are a tough one, and there's not a doubt in my mind that you made it through this nightmare we've all been going through for much too long. That said, you didn't fool me. I know more often than not you've had the exact same thoughts and fears in your head and heart as I have, and I know just how heavily those weigh. We tried to cover it up with humor, manicures, online shopping sprees, fabulous sex (you with half the house, you big slut, I'm so proud), tequila, and bloodtinis... But it was always there, taunting and torturing us, that any minute could be our last. If I'm gone, I have to believe you're still here, because fabulous, flawless bitches just became even more endangered and rare, and you're going to have to make up for my absence. Don't let yourself have any kind of survivors guilt. You deserve to be free and happy and I hope you celebrate your freedom with more trips to the mall than the Viking's credit card can handle. Buy something extremely obnoxious and exorbitant in my honor. I promise to watch and sigh wistfully in jealousy all the way from Faery.

Oh, Winnifred. Honestly, I'm pretty sure most people will think your life expectancy crashed like the stock market on Black Tuesday the moment I turned to fairy dust. Any bitch who thinks that, however, would be wrong. You have been a handful, yes. I have no idea how you get yourself into the situations you do, whether it's a curse or actually some bizarre, life-threatening talent you alone have mastered, but it's been both impressive and steadily horrifying for me to witness and supervise as your godmother. I've tried not to interfere more than absolutely necessary, because beneath all the misfortune and trouble you draw in on a near constant basis, I believe in you, and, even though I'm regularly exasperated and utterly dumbfounded, I'm still confident you have the skills and acumen needed to save your fabulous self. At your core, you are a survivor, and you'll probably outlast even cockroaches on this planet. Since that doesn't sound quite like the compliment I intended it to be, let me put it like this: I am so proud of you, and it's been an honor and a privilege to be your godmother. Now please, try not to get yourself killed... even if I am so not one to talk now, literally and figuratively.

Mrs. Ferrior and my Mexiho, I'm going to miss you bitches and I hope you know that. We've bonded over some strange things... suddenly and unexpectedly finding yourself married to a vampire (Brooke), tequila appreciation and worm-calling (Chloe), and the craziness of trying to raise faelings in this realm (both of you) just to name a few. We've traveled the world, gone through a countless number of bottles of tequila, had more than our share of men trouble, and done so much shopping just to keep ourselves going, and I don't regret a single minute of it. I am so disappointed I won't get to see your faebies grow up firsthand, but I have no doubt that they're going to be beautiful bitches that are going to break so many hearts one day (and maybe start a few on fire)... just like their fabulous mommies. I'll be watching over them and you two from the Summerlands, you can count on that.

Oh, and mamacita, life is short, so dive in. Don't hold back just because you've dated a lot of dicks... or asses as the case may be. You deserve happiness. Bastards have taken enough from you, don't let them take away your chance at having something special too because you're afraid. Fuck the past, so you can fuck lots and lots with a special someone in the future forever.

Now, to all my fabulous and favorite bitches, when it comes to leaving you anything, there's not much I can offer that you don't already have. We've all been blessed and don't have a need for much of anything, and that's absolutely a good thing, not a bad. So I can't give you anything you “need,” but I can at least give a little something to remember me by. Go to Maui on my dime. Have the girls vacay you know I've wanted to take practically since returning home from Rio. You better believe I've set aside more than enough to cover fabulous accommodations and more tequila than you could ever drink. I'm not forgetting you pirepeople, there are at least three pints of @FaeBrax in a fridge in my office at Hooligans that I drained from that grumpy-ass fairy when he was asleep and never let my husband have. Go to Maui, put on your most fabulous clothes and shoes I would be insanely jealous of (no black!), get your drink on under the moon and stars, and not even the Summerlands can keep me from being there in spirit. It's the send off I want from you bitches. Don't disappoint me now.

Since in a roundabout way I have you to thank for my marriage which is easily the best thing that ever happened to me, and also because the mere thought amuses me to no end, Abi, I'm leaving you a third of Hooligans. It will make you blush and cover your eyes and you'll insist everyone should just put their clothes back on and have a tea party or something instead, and that amuses the ever-loving crap out of me. If you want to sell your share to the boys or someone else entirely, fine. You have my blessing, but I hope to hell and back again you'd use the money to start Pythons.

Michelle, just because my fairytale was cut short doesn't mean yours is going to be. I may not be able to help you myself anymore, but I can still make sure you find the help that can lead you to a solution of some sort. I'm leaving you with the number to call to deliver messages between realms. Call it, give them your name, and tell the fairy on the other end of the line that Claude said Niall Brigant would help you. They'll deliver the message, and my grandfather will find you in this realm. Tell him everything you told me, and that it's my wish that he helps you himself. My grandfather has moved mountains-- both figuratively and literally-- and if there is anyone, anyone at all who can help you above and beyond what you need or could even dare to wish for, it's him. He'll honor this promise for me, I'm sure of it.

Winnie, your health insurance will be covered for the foreseeable future, and just in case, there's a life insurance policy out on you that your ass is the beneficiary of, so if something happens to you, he'll be taken care of. I never forget a fabulous ass.

I love and adore you all. Every time you see glitter, you bitches better think of me. I swear, I'll know if you don't.

Dear @JulianAjax_,

Oh Adorablepire, there are so many things I wish I would have had the chance to say to you when I still had time to, but better late than never, better now than not at all. I want to start out by saying I'm really going to miss you. I never had a brother before. I've had more than enough sisters, both biologically and metaphorically, but never a brother until you, and I really lucked out, because you are fabulous, even if you don't like shopping. I feel lucky Roman shared you with me, however briefly it may have been.

I want to say thank you, because you deserve to hear it, even if it's like this. Even though I was plenty leery of you and did some serious questioning of your motivations when first finding out you so much as existed, you were better than that to me in turn. Honestly, you showed both me and my marriage significantly less judgment than many acquaintances, my family, and even less than the vampire I married, amazingly. Believe me, I appreciated it.

I know you probably don't need this confirmation of your decisions, least of all from a dead fairy, but I always meant to tell you that you made the right decision in New Orleans the fateful night you reentered Roman's life after a seven hundred year absence. You can say you made a calculated decision to save your life, but for the record, I wouldn't buy that line of crap. I'm a fairy. No matter how super impressive and calculating pirepeople think they are, we have you beat... and the Brigants happen to be the most impressive and calculating of them all. There was more than one way out of the ninjapire's lair that night, I know you know that, but you chose to help Roman, even though you had pain in your heart he was the source of, and even though you had spent centuries with a deranged Makerpire with a crazy vendetta against him. Even though you had pain and bitterness in your heart, you showed faith in him, and there's something fabulously beautiful and special about that.

I'm really glad you two found each other after all this time, and I hope you never lose one another again. You're two sides to the same coin... Complete opposites, yet exactly the same. You need one another, and Roman especially is going to need you now. He's going to blame himself for this, but you can't let him. Don't let him do anything crazy or destructive because he thinks he has to. He'll try, and he'll get all fangy and angry and it'll be very impressive and menacing and ninja, but he's still listening, even when it may not seem like he is. Make him listen to you. Don't let yourself lose him again, and don't let him lose you.

I really hate that you never got the chance to tell me more stories about when the two of you were still human like you said you would. I'm sure I would have loved them all. If you have a free night, tell the stars. I promise I'll be listening from the Summerlands, because not even death could stop me from enjoying an adventure of the Barbarossa boys.

Dear @RomanLucious,

Part of me thinks writing this is an exercise in futility. There's a good chance you'll never read this damn thing, even though I want you to. You'll leave it in it's envelope and brood about it and carry it with you like it's a stone around your neck weighing you down, because you won't be able to bring yourself to let me say goodbye the way I want to and need to, even though you need to hear it as much as I need to say it. On the other hand, if you had happened to find this before I went to the Summerlands, you would read it and probably get growly at me for being prepared while simultaneously trying to ignore everything I say in this, because you're never going to be ready to hear it, even on accident. And then, if I do die, you'll act like you haven't read it, even though you had, just because you won't want to have to accept or confront anything I've said.

You are a very difficult and frustrating vampire, Roman Lucious Barbarossa-Brigant. I hope you know that.

But-- Faery help me-- I love you, so futile as this may be, I'm going to write this fully pretending you will honor my after-death wish that you read this and that you won't be the impossible vampire we both know you are.

Just so you know, I'm leaving you a third of Hooligans. I think I've scared all of my girls there enough that they wouldn't touch you with a ten-foot pole even with me gone (especially because I wasn't kidding, I really did kill that fairy that was 90% silicone that you liked... and I still judge you for that... ugh, Roman, sometimes you have the worst tastes), and I trust Abi to properly shame you to second death if you try to use the club as a means to add even more Hooligans dancer notches to your bedpost. I'm leaving it to you because it's where we met, it's where I first started taking care of and protecting your drunken self when no one else would, and it's where we were first married. I know the world is going to keep on turning, I know you're going to move on, and I want that for you because I want you to be happy, but I hope it reminds you of me now and then.

All my money (that isn't allotted elsewhere), property, and possessions are yours now. My house in Monroe acts a bit like a sky fae hotel, so try to give the fairies living there some kind of appropriate notice before you'd show up there and startle the crap out of them. I don't actually expect you to hang onto anything (except the property that you signed over to me so crazypires would need an invitation), so don't feel bad about getting rid of it. It's just stuff. Fabulous stuff that I don't think you ever fully appreciated, but stuff all the same. I won't resent it from the Summerlands, I promise, but do try to keep and take care of the rugs. They really do tie the rooms together.

I really thought about putting a request into my grandfather that you be issued an invitation to spend eternity in the Summerlands should anything happen to you, but I didn't, because the truth is, I refuse to imagine this world without you in it. It hurts to even try. For as much as I worried about being made a widow, I never really believed it could happen. It doesn't matter the odds... you are a survivor because you deserve to survive. You are the vampire who'd save my life when you didn't even like me because it's the right thing to do. You are the vampire who was devastated, even while drunk off your ass on my blood, because I couldn't say I was happy with our marriage despite helping you regrow your fang. You are the vampire who would rush after creepy witches when already suffering burns because of what he had done to your friend, and because he had just threatened my life. You are the vampire who would risk and accept the wrath of a house full of people he cares about, because keeping them safe was more important than being popular. This world needs you in it. It will keep on spinning without me, and I'm as okay with that as I can be, but you have to be here. Who knows what would happen to it without you.

This wasn't your fault. I know you probably can't bring yourself to believe that right now. I know you too well to think you're not beating yourself up for this, consumed by guilt, and hating everyone and everything that tells you the truth, but I need you to hear me, even if you don't want to. I don't blame you. I don't hold you responsible. The only one to blame in this is that creepy, awful witch with horrible split ends and a limitless depth to his hate. I really hope he's dead now too, but if he's not, I don't want you to seek vengeance for me, even though I know you'd want to. If he's still alive, let Niall and Dillon worry about killing the creeper, or even the other pirepeople from Area Five. That witch can't take anything else from you anymore if you don't let him, so don't let him. Instead, I want you to go to the Maldives and live on the beach with the pugpires, drinking blood from a coconut shell, burying yourself in the sand, enjoying the fabulous waters, and without a care in the world, for all of eternity. You deserve that. It's what I want for you.

I want to say thank you... for everything. Thank you for saving my life and giving me these few extra years. Thank you for calling me at the drop of the hat to act as a taxi service for you, so no matter how much we may have wanted to, we couldn't shake one another completely. Thank you for not just killing me after you found out we were married. Thank you for proving to me and the rest of my family I made the right decision when saving you. Thank you for being sweet when you thought no one would know it or see it. Thank you for letting me be the exception to a rule. Thank you for being a better husband than I ever could have thought to want, and probably never really deserved. Thank you for sharing your family with me. Thank you for having a family with me, even if it was largely composed of pugs you fed blood to. Thank you for letting me take care of you, and thank you for taking care of me. Thank you for letting me be your fairy, and for being my vampire.

I will do my best to resist any and all urges to find a way to haunt you, tempting as it may be, I promise, but I will be watching over you from the Summerlands every single night from now until the end of time. I want you to know you have my heart and all of my love in this life and my next, and you always will. I want you to find and have all the things you want. I want you to always be the man are, but try to hide behind an impressive, menacing, ninja front. I want you to always follow your heart. I want you to love and be loved. I want you to be happy. And even if you don't feel like it... do it anyway, for me, because you can't and won't refuse your wife's last wish.

I need you to know I don't regret anything-- not a single thing-- about what led me to this fate. My life didn't truly begin until that fateful night the new Hooligans bouncer rode his motorcycle into the club's parking lot. I wasn't looking for someone to love, I wasn't looking for a husband, or a soul mate, but being the lucky bitch I am, it's what I ended up finding, and you know what, sunshine? It was fabulous. Every single minute of it was. It was more than I could have ever wished for or wanted or dared to expect. If the price for finally living ultimately cost me my life... it's worth it. I want you to know I still feel like the luckiest bitch in this or any world to have been your wife. Don't you dare try to regret anything for me now, because I would do it all over again.

Our fairytale was over way too soon, but it will always be the best one anyone could ever know, and I couldn't have shared it with anyone better. Know that-- even if it's harder to hear me remind you of it now-- I love you and always will. If you know and never forget that, nothing else really matters, and it never will.

Signing the last of the letters he could bring himself to write, he folded it quickly before stuffing it into an envelope he had scribbled Roman's name on the front of, dropping it to join the small pile of others as he leaned back in the chair. Scrubbing at his eyes, he tried to ignore the heaviness in his heart, the knots in his stomach, and the lump in his throat as best he could. That was tough to do when he had just ripped open every stitch that had otherwise kept him together throughout this entire ordeal.

He wasn't surrendered now. If anything, he had only just begun to realize how much he had to lose. He reminded himself he could still make it out of this ugly thing alive, and if he did, he'd take no small amount of pleasure in throwing each of the letters into a fire to watch them turn into nothing more than an awful, awful memory. If that glorious moment never came, however, the letters would be there, buried in the back of a drawer, to be found eventually after he was gone.

The witch had taken everything else from him. At least he had refused to give up the ability to say goodbye. There was a small victory in that, even if it was difficult to feel in the moment.

He'd be proud later. He'd be strong later. He would fight with everything he had and call upon more still later.

But right now, in the empty room he had found amid a house full of his loved ones, he'd let himself break, if just for a minute.

[sheriffnorthman]

The Price of a Celebration - @RomanLucious @JulianAjax_

Fluorescent lighting was one of those things no vampire enjoyed. Obnoxiously bright and unforgiving, he could hear the steady, annoying buzz of it now and he could practically feel the artificial lighting desperately attempting to reach him as he hid behind the safety of his closed eyelids. Frowning, no other part of the vampire's body dared to move as he tried to put together the pieces of just where he was as the sun had set this evening, not to mention why, but the Viking found it a difficult task to complete when his mind felt thoroughly clouded over.

He wasn't in his bed. He wasn't in any bed he recognized, for that matter. The surface he had spent his death slumber upon was hard, unyielding, and distinctly lacking comfort. His first thought was that he had fallen dead atop a table of some sort, though he couldn't immediately recall the reasons why he would have been so careless.

A groan of dissatisfaction to his far right caught his attention immediately, if only because it took none of the mystery he had been immediately met with away, and only instead added to it. That hadn't been a sound belonging to @fangtastic_Pam, or @VampKPetriv, or even @VampyJo and @WerepireLucian. Brow wrinkling and eyes remaining tightly closed, Eric knew he should have figured out more to the puzzle before acknowledging he no longer lingered in his daytime slumber, but he just couldn't stop the question before it escaped his lips. “Deputy?”

“Sheriff.” The garbled, single word response from @RomanLucious conveyed a certain level of confusion and misery the Viking wasn't unfamiliar with, and one piece of the puzzle rapidly fell into place. The previous night they had definitely indulged in fairy blood. Given how miserable Eric felt at present and the lingering haze in his head, he'd be willing to wager it had been copious amounts of the precious blood, more than he should have, anyway.

“Shhhh. Quiet.”

The whispered command caught the Viking thoroughly off guard, especially since it sounded as if it had come from directly above him. He didn't even have a chance to express his surprise before Roman was voicing the question Eric would have himself if not so utterly confused. “@JulianAjax_?”

The answering groan was quickly drowned out by the arrival of a heartbeat and a human voice that was much too loud for any hungover vampire's comfort. “Rise and shine, boys,” the unfamiliar man's voice rang out, the sound of it echoing around the cavernous space they found themselves in. “Dinner is served.”

The ungodly clamor of steel on concrete reverberated so loudly, Eric could have sworn he could feel it in his very teeth, and reluctantly, he faced the inevitability that he'd have to open his eyes to figure this one out. Blinking his eyes open and squinting in the harsh lighting as he willed his sensitive eyes to rapidly adjust, he took in the space around them; the three, concrete walls painted a sterile color that only made the harsh lighting that much more uncomfortable, the unforgiving bunks jutting from the walls, the silver-coated bars that lined what would have been a fourth wall in any normal room...

Kicking his feet over the side of his bunk, he looked into the unnaturally pale face of his already sitting up second-in-command. “I wish this scenario was even just a little more unfamiliar to me than it actually is.”

The answering grunt of agreement had barely left Roman's lips when Eric was knocked backward, having just taken a foot squarely to the center of his forehead as AJ kicked his legs over the side of his bunk. Fanging and rubbing his forehead furiously as AJ all but crumbled to the floor, Roman laughed from the other side of the cell despite the deadly look Eric shot him, but his laughter stopped abruptly, a shaky finger pointing at him instead. “What happened to your fang?”

Ignoring as both AJ and Roman gawked at him, Eric's hand went from his forehead to his mouth, gingerly feeling one pristine fang before stalling as his finger lingered on the second. Chipped. Running his tongue over it, eyes wide with confusion, it would take a few nights to regenerate from the damage it had suffered. “I have no idea.”

“What the hell happened last night?” AJ asked as he reached for, then passed around the bottles of cold blood they had been supplied with by their “hosts.”

The silence that question was met with spoke volumes, and it showed on each of their faces as they looked between one another, each one knowing the others were completely at a loss.

“Well, what do we remember?” Roman asked in a growl of frustration as he wiped his mouth of the cheap, synthetic dinner they had been offered. “There has to be something we remember.”

“Celebrating,” AJ answered after another tense moment of silence. “We were celebrating.”

“Right, that's right,” Eric nodded in agreement, as he tried to force the hazy images playing through his mind into focus, whether they wanted to be or not. What in the hell had they been celebrating?

There really hadn't been much to celebrate as of late, not when all of Area Five was being held hostage as they were by the ginger witch that plagued them so. Granted, the witches they had brought in for aid-- @WitchyRose and @Jared_Wolfe-- had proven themselves to be worth the trust that had been placed in them, and had discovered a way to reverse the magic @BrodyKeyes had called upon. That certainly seemed worthy of celebration.

But not premature celebrating, and that was what such a thing would have been. With the lives of their loved ones still on the line until the jars that contained their existences in were hunted down, they hadn't triumphed yet. When they had, it would be celebrated by far more than just the three of them, so that definitely wasn't it.

So what in the hell was it?

“Obviously, we had fairy blood,” Eric voiced aloud, frustrated by the silence as they each attempted to summon memories of the previous night for themselves. “I think I supplied it,” he admitted after another moment with a wince that would be as close to an apology as he'd offer up to the other two present. The confession sounded accurate to him, at least. He had been hoarding a supply of the precious blood since their intoxicated undertakings during Mardi Gras, just in case he wanted or required the blissful ignorance that went with a fairy buzz, and @ClaudeCrane wasn't conveniently around to sneak a sniff of. “Does fae pack more of a punch when its aged?” The question only had a moment to hang in the air before the pow-wow of aged vampires in the center of a jail cell was interrupted by their unintentional keepers. “Let's just play along for now, see if Cataliades can get us out of this before we do anything further of questionable legality.”

It wasn't much of a plan-- it was really barely a plan at all-- but it was all they had as they faced the prospect of interrogation. It was going to be an uphill battle.

“Do you want to tell us what the three of you did last night?”

The answering silence stretched on until uncomfortable before the Deputy so eloquently offered up a response. “Do you want to tell us what the three of us did last night?”

The temptation to facepalm was strong.

Despite that, the evasive answer seemed to be all the invitation their interrogator needed. Reaching for a remote, a television screen clicked on, and grainy footage from a security feed illuminated the screen. Narrowing his eyes as he tracked the movement on the screen, Eric tried to recognize the setting while miniature versions of Roman, AJ, and himself appeared on the screen. He and AJ had walked easily through the revolving doors, while the Deputy circled endlessly until AJ realized they had lost Roman and doubled back to retrieve him.

A figurative light bulb went off in Eric's hazy mind, and with it, one of the pieces of the giant puzzle came into focus.

This was the casino.

Not their casino, or what would eventually become their casino, but the biggest one the Area had to offer at present, one they'd eventually seek to put out of business. Distantly, Eric could recall the trio passing a flask of blood back and forth between one another as they wandered the streets of Shreveport with no discernible plans for where the night might take them. The lights and activity surrounding the competition had easily drawn in the drunken trio, and the Viking vaguely remembered the three of them tossing around words about how this was research, and how they were spying on the enemy.

Needless to say, their ability to go unnoticed behind enemy lines left much to be desired.

They had wandered to the poker tables, though their journey had been slow, each easily distracted by anything and everything shiny between the entrance and their ultimate goal. It would have been better if they had never reached it, really. What had made any one of them believe playing high-stakes poker in such a state had actually been a good idea?

How many thousands had Eric lost in a matter of mere minutes? A vampire's ability to remain stoic and impassive went right out the window with a little blood of the fae in their systems, and it didn't take a seasoned card shark to recognize when any one of them was particularly pleased or infuriated by their hand. Their tells were only exacerbated when Eric kept seeing double, and had to check with Roman whether or not he actually had a hand worth playing, something his second-in-command had all too willingly done before announcing the answer to the table.

Poker had definitely been a mistake.

Fortunately, the three of them hadn't lingered there long. None of them were good losers when sober, so it was only worse when drunk, but they hadn't given up there. Instead, they had headed to the blackjack tables in an attempt to recoup some of their recent losses.

This could be identified as mistake number two.

And it wasn't because they had lost more money either. Counting to 21 had been a far easier task than schooling their expressions it turned out, and with bets the likes of which only a drunken vampire would make, it hadn't taken them long to earn back much of what had previously been lost. What had turned into an issue was their competitive nature, their inability to hold a thought for longer than a few moments, and the complete lack of will they had to fight off the urge to comply when the others seemingly commanded “hit me!”

Glancing toward Roman and AJ as the memory fully swam into focus in his mind, the Viking could tell he wasn't the only one putting the pieces together now.

As if on cue, the image on the screen rapidly turned to Eric punching his Deputy, Roman punching AJ, and AJ punching the Viking in turn. It hadn't taken long before the game had been forgotten in exchange for an unsanctioned boxing match between the three of them, at least until the casino's security had offered them the honor of a personal escort out of the building.

Dabbing at his shirt, as if he might erase some of the blood that had dried there, AJ was the first to speak up after the video was stopped. “Is that all?” There hadn't been any property damage done, and the only injured parties had been one another, and they had long since healed from their scuffle. “We won't be pressing charges against one another.”

The Viking wondered if he was the only one who followed those words up with an unspoken and internal “this time.”

“Do you think that's all?”

Tossing surreptitious glances at one another, the Deputy answered for the three of them. “It isn't usually.”

A file folder was slid forcefully toward them, and Roman clamped a hand down on it before flipping it open for the three to peruse. A quartet of grainy images taken from a traffic camera were visible within, but despite the poor quality of the photos, there was no mistaking the three blond vampires standing on one side of the road with a fourth figure atop a pedestal, looming over them.

Squinting to make sense of the graphic, AJ began, “Is that a statue of-?”

“Bubba,” Eric and Roman successfully interrupted, finished, and answered in unintentional unison, and the Viking subconsciously ran his tongue over his chipped fang.

The statue wasn't an unfamiliar landmark to any that called Shreveport home, though it had long been a bothersome one for the vampires among the city's population. When responsibility for the brain-addled vampire known as Bubba so often fell upon the shoulders of Area Five, having a statue that honored him and proudly bore the name he was far more recognizable by on it was a nuisance, especially when that name sent the simple-minded failure into an angry and confused frenzy. It was a hassle to always make certain the cat-lover was given clear instructions nightly when in the Area that took him in a different direction from the monument in his honor, but it had to be done. Too many vampire considered him too much of a treasure to lose even in the state he was in, and even Eric found himself fond. That vampire was nothing if not loyal.

Another piece of the puzzle that was the previous night fell into place.

After they had been escorted from the casino, the three of them had passed the flask of fae between them and continued their wandering. As the natives of Shreveport, Eric and Roman should have been aware of where they were, but it had been all but impossible to be aware of much more than the sweet smell of the blood they rapidly consumed, leaving it to the newest transplant to point out the monument in amusement.

Roman had rapidly clamped a hand over his brother's mouth once the name had left his undead lips, and Eric attempted to muster up enough presence of mind to explain the precarious situation. “We do not speak the name,” he had begun, as if it were a matter of life or second death. “We never speak the name. It upsets him beyond recom... recomp...” Waving a hand as he struggled over his own word, he continued. “You just can't make it better if you say it.” Crossing the street toward the statue and followed closely by Roman and AJ, he had done his best to soothe the forged being. “He didn't mean it, Bubba,” he insisted gently. “He didn't know any better. Who's a good Bubba? You're a good Bubba. You're Master Eric's favorite Bubba.”

“Somethin' is wrong with him, Sheriff,” the Deputy had whispered. Of course, whispering wouldn't have stopped another vampire from hearing, but none of them seemed to realize that, nor had they realized just how much was wrong with the supposed fourth vampire among them. “He's so upset, he isn't even movin' at all.”

Eric had attempted to shoot AJ a look that was meant to be scolding or menacing, but only really succeeded in looking slightly deranged before turning his attention back on the statue. “That is enough poutin', Bubba. As your Sheriff, I command you to come down from there at once and cease this... this... this...”

His voice had trailed off and he had looked helplessly to Roman and even to AJ to fill in the blank. Usually, any mention of the name he had known in his human life would have been enough to send Bubba into such an episode, they would have had to subdue him, then isolate him for the foreseeable future, until his agitation over the memories he was haunted by fully left his mind. This stillness... it wasn't anything like Bubba usually was. He was a fairly restless vampire. This was highly unusual.

“Protest,” Roman finally suggested, and Eric nodded dramatically in agreement.

“Protest!” he echoed with force, as if the word had been his own, and to drive the point home, his hand flew forward pointedly. Unfortunately for him, it had crashed into the sculpture roughly, and Eric had pulled his hand back to him to examine what appeared to be broken knuckles. “That was uncalled for, Bubba!”

“Show him who's boss!” AJ had encouraged, and not one to back down from a challenge, Eric had jumped up on the pedestal and attempted to do just that.

At least he had figured out something was truly amiss after his first attempt in an aggressive bite to his subordinate. It would have been truly embarrassing had it required more than that.

Rubbing his own forehead, the Viking actually wouldn't have minded if this piece of the puzzle had evaded him. “Did I damage it?”

The officer across the table only looked at him incredulously. “It's made of bronze,” he answered.

“I will assume that is a no then.” It was a good thing he wouldn't have wanted to truly harm Bubba, or the statue may not have fared as well as it had. “Good, then the only damage incurred was to my tooth.” Not to mention his dignity, obviously. “If there is a fine or something, I have no objection to paying it and then, we can be on our way...”

“That's not all,” the officer interrupted.

Eric sighed aloud heavily. Of course it wasn't.

“You went to the zoo.”

As if on cue, both Eric and Roman began checking their fingers and toes, to make sure the digits were still in tact and wouldn't require the annoying itch of regeneration. The Deputy subtly elbowed his younger brother, as if encouraging him to do the same. The suggestion was for good reason. The last time Roman and Eric had drunkenly visited a zoo, they had ventured into the crocodile pen to less than fantastic results and they had done so with @BrierFerrior_... but they had sort of left Nolan behind. Whether that had been intentional or an accident was up for debate to this day. The last time Eric had been to the zoo, he hadn't even been intoxicated, yet he had still managed to be attacked by a flock of flamingos, and it was probably a good thing @JackDanielsTB had changed @LaceyTB's mind about wanting someone to retrieve her a tiger...

“We have a tendency to do that,” Eric admitted, “as a vampire is wont to do. We will make a sizable donation to the facilities-”

“According to the statement of the zoo's security, after you entered the park, you were shouting obnoxiously about needing to find and race camels.”

To Eric's side, Roman snorted in amusement and faked a cough that sounded decidedly like “camel toe.” Eric was still bitter about the camel he had called Roman the Better breaking his big toe when they had vacationed in Egypt...

“Something you want to say about that?” the officer asked, forcing the full weight of his stare on the Deputy. If the human thought he could intimidate over a combined 2400 years of vampire, however, he had much yet to learn.

“Do not encourage him,” the Viking insisted. “He fared no better in our previous race than I. Did we find any camels?” If they had, there was little doubt in Eric's mind that there would be at least a trio of the things roaming the city, high on the blood of centuries old vampires.

There was a lengthy pause before the officer finally answered the inquiry. “No, but you found the petting zoo, and according to security, the animals have been acting strangely since.”

“Livestock,” Eric nodded once, ultimately unsurprised. So that was what was hopped up on V then. The Viking had an undeniable fondness of wrangling livestock, and he wasn't the only vampire present with a penchant for giving four-legged creatures blood in order to urge them to cooperate. “That will wear off eventually.”

“Animals don't care for vampires,” Roman covered quickly, both because there was no way any of the three wanted this human aware of what their blood could and would do, but also because three drunks breaking into a pen of animals probably happened often in Louisiana, with the perpetrators having decidedly unseemly intentions. “Sense of self-preservation tells them to run and hide. In a pen that's tough to do. They're just riled up.”

AJ nodded in agreement. “It won't last.”

Now the human turned his attention on AJ, as if he had just been waiting for the youngest vampire to speak up again. “Security followed your voices until they were finally able to corner the three of you, and they did so at the bird exhibits, where you were attempting to break into a cage of owls.”

AJ looked taken aback. “I don't think I would-”

“According to their statement, you were shouting-- and I quote-- 'free the hooters.'”

While it likely would have been prudent to maintain a stony facade, or even to feign a level of regret or embarrassment, all three of the vampires couldn't stop themselves from laughing, each one of them getting flashes of memories from their festivities at the zoo as they did. When finally having the presence of mind to find out just how damned they may have been, AJ asked, “And did I? Free the hooters?”

There was a long moment of silence before the officer shook his head. “No, you did not.”

“That sounds about right,” Eric murmured under his breath with a smirk.

“But you did do severe damage to their caging,” the officer continued, ignoring the Viking's commentary entirely.

That was a relief then. It would have certainly complicated matters had they drunkenly released some priceless, near extinct bird from captivity or something of the sort. So long as they could write a check to make amends, things were overall good and would be easy to correct once they were given the opportunity to make their phone call.

“And that is when we were apprehended then?” he asked.

But he should have known. He should have known.

“No. According to security, when ordered to freeze, you were past them and over the walls in a matter of seconds. The next call we received was nearly an hour later, when an amusement park go-kart track reported three vampire had jumped their track and made off with their karts.”

The missing hour was a little troublesome, but Eric imagined a good majority of it had been spent passing the flask of fae between themselves some more. “Now that is simply a misunderstanding,” he insisted. “Julian is a terrible, terrible driver. He ran over their barriers because he cannot keep even a child's vehicle upon the road. My Second and I could not overtake him when he was weaving about as he was, so we merely followed the leader.”

“You engaged in a low-speed chase with officers for another hour, shouting that us humans would never catch you while driving no more than 20 miles per hour. One of your arresting officers had been riding a bicycle.”

“Hmm,” Eric acknowledged with a small nod. There was really no other way to respond to that. Though he was certain he was meant to feel shamed, the Viking remained mostly relieved. This would be easy enough to make go away. No damage that couldn't be corrected had been done. “I would like my phone call now.”

“You've already used yours.”

Eric blinked once, surprised by the news. Had it been so close to dawn that Pam had been unable to reach them to bail them out? Or had he phoned Cataliades? And if he had, why did he pay the demon such a ridiculous retainer if he hadn't made this entire matter disappear already? He was free to travel during the daylight hours, after all. Maybe he called @AbigaleDawson? He did have a habit of phoning the telekinetic when inebriated, after all, but had he called Abigale, he had no doubt she would have spent the day waiting in the station and raised hell had she not been able to see them already.

Perplexed, he had no choice but to ask. “Who did I call then?”

“You put in a call for a stripper because it was this one's birthday,” he answered, gesturing, unamused, to the Deputy seated in front of him. “And the entertainment in holding left 'much to be desired.'”

So that was what they had been celebrating. Half-turning in the uncomfortable chair he was seated in toward his second-in-command, there seemed only one thing to say. “Happy birthday, Deputy. We will always have the mugshots to remember it by, but perhaps we should hope we can forget the rest again. Next time...” And there would be a next time... “You can call the stripper.”

[princevladtepes]

Lessons Learned - @RomanLucious

He couldn't open his eyes. There was not a single muscle within his body that was under his control. He hadn't had so much as a drop of blood in more time than he had ever imagined going without. He had seen no one outside of the confines of his steady, unending dreams. He had known no home nor shelter but the box he had been unceremoniously imprisoned to. His freedom seemed but only a distant memory now. He was no longer living, nor was he finally dead. He was nothing but a mind now, a consciousness, but one that was slowly waking, and tonight, it was more aware and alert than it had been at any point before. Because somewhere, somewhere in the deepest recesses of his mind or in the darkest places of his long silent heart, he knew what tonight was. Time had ceased to have a meaning to him throughout his imprisonment, or so he had thought. It turned out his sense of time had only been looking for a chance to be reawakened, and now, it had found it, on this, the most unholy and loathsome of all anniversaries. For over seven centuries now, @RomanLucious had plagued the earth, and all who walked upon it suffered unduly for his presence. For Vlad himself, the eldest vampire Barbarossa had used those years to be a parasite, feasting off luck and those stronger and more powerful than he, and then, when the time suited him, a traitor. He was a thorn in the side of Dracula, one the Prince of all vampire felt as acutely as he could feel the stake that had been buried in his flesh to keep him in place now. Had it really been only a year since he had dismantled the beast belonging to Barbarossa before sending @DakotaARyan across the states of Louisiana and Mississippi to deliver the remains? Had it really been only a year since he had discovered his nemesis had taken a wife in @ClaudeCrane, and with it, sealed the fairy would meet the fate that had been intended once upon a time for Mina? Had it really been only a year since he had revealed to his enemy the continued existence of @JulianAjax_? Had it really been only a year since the younger of the Barbarossa brothers had then betrayed him as well? Would Barbarossa be celebrating this night among his friends and loved ones? Would he be toasting his triumphs in life, and his successes in death? Would he feel carefree and victorious on this occasion, reveling in his freedom and continued existence, without a thought reserved for those he had so grievously wronged throughout? Wrong. It was all so very wrong. Tonight, it should have been Vlad himself who celebrated the first of many a year free from Roman Lucious Barbarossa. He should have been the one roaming the night without a care, while his enemy lingered eternally in complete and utter nothingness. Foolishly though, Barbarossa had been generous a year previously. Foolishly, his enemy had not ended him once and for all, though regrettably, he had had such an opportunity. What had stopped the vampire from doing such a thing, Vlad was ultimately uncertain, though he imagined Barbarossa's lack of foresight and a certain knack for making unintelligent and unwise decisions factored in heavily. He would never have been so generous in turn. And he would get the chance to prove such a thing, of that he had no doubt. His escape was imminent, @AlexiNicholis had avowed to that. He would be freed from the prison that held him now, it was only a matter of time. Not one to easily admit defeat, he could admit now that the year previously, Roman had won the battle. That mattered little, however, when his nemesis had failed to insure he had won the war as well, despite having the opportunity. Barbarossa could celebrate another year infesting this earth as he did. Truly, it mattered little when the additional time made him no more wiser than any year before it. But this year had made Vlad wiser instead. He could see now where he had made his mistakes, and he would not repeat them yet again. He had been short-sighted, his vision clouded by his need for vengeance and retribution, and he had relied too heavily upon his superior strength and his potent rage to crush his enemy and to lead him to his rightful victory. Here, in this prison though, he had learned. He had learned there were fates far worse than final death. He had learned there were fates far worse than witnessing the loss of someone of great importance to an enemy. He had learned how to break a lesser vampire. For the sake of Barbarossa, he hoped the vampire was enjoying himself tonight. It would be one last, undeserved good memory before he found himself broken. Next year, it would be his turn to celebrate.

[claude-crane]

A Birthday Gift - @RomanLucious

It would have been a strange sight to most people. In the middle of the rural forest in the town of Bon Temps stood an aging figure, dressed more appropriately for a formal afternoon tea than for a trek in the woods. He stood rigidly, formally, despite the fact that he was standing beside a rotten log rather than in a fine hall, but his face conveyed a sense of disinterest, as if this was the sort of thing he did everyday, and nothing about his curious and unlikely location could grab his attention. The man's silver hair shone in the early afternoon sunlight that managed to peek through the canopy of leaves and branches above him, and the silver-topped cane he carried with him-- for both show and as a weapon, not out of need-- flashed brightly like a beacon, summoning forward any who may have witnessed it. To most people, he would have seemed a beautiful, if not dangerous, mirage.

But Claude wasn't most people. To Claude, this unlikely and imposing figure was merely family.

@SkyPrinceNiall blinked out of his reverie to offer his grandson a genuine smile, and Claude was only too willing to return it with one of his own. In a silent, well-rehearsed, and familiar greeting, they grasped hands before pressing a brief kiss to the cheeks of one another, first one, and then the other.

“You didn't tell @SkyFaeDillon about this, did you?”

Niall's head shook once, and with his cane, he beckoned toward the unlikely, magical gateway that stood a few paces behind him. “In your message, you requested that I did not,” Niall pointed out. Communication between realms meant playing a game of telephone among fairies, so Claude couldn't help but be relieved that part of his message made it through. “And I saw no reason not to honor that request. Though I am certain he would disagree, this was my choice to make, so ultimately, it fails to concern him.”

The younger fairy simply snorted quietly in response, more than certain his father would disagree that the matter failed to concern him. It wasn't like his father to openly question or disagree with Niall, but it was impossible not to recognize that no matter what the ruler of Sky had to say, and no matter what Claude himself had to say, there were certain matters Dillon couldn't conceal his opposing feelings on. Chief among those things was anything pertaining to Claude's husband, and considering @RomanLucious was the reason for Claude's trip home today, it seemed best to keep his father out of it. They wouldn't be able to keep Dillon in the dark forever, but keeping him in the dark for now was better than nothing, and by the time his father learned of what had transpired, it would be too late to do anything about it.

Stepping through the portal behind his ancient grandfather, Claude took a moment to breathe in the sweet air of his home, his eyes squinting as they adjusted to the brightness of the eternal sun that shone in the sky above them. Even though it hadn't been very long since his last journey to Faery, it never failed to feel like an eternity away once he had returned. His very being vibrated with the familiar, comforting magic that surrounded him, magic that felt as if it healed him from within and nurtured his very soul. While there were plenty of things within Faery that kept it from being completely paradise, it was inarguable that it came pretty damn close.

“He will know you are here though, you know.”

Glancing beside him to his grandfather as they walked, Claude nodded. “I know,” he agreed. The ability to find their family at a moments notice was usually a good thing, but it was certainly inconvenient now. “I'm not in trouble though. Maybe it won't get his attention.” That seemed optimistic, even for a fairy who regularly tried to be optimistic though. “He'll just assume I'm here to talk to you about Keelin.”

“And be very put out when I inform him that was not the case,” Niall agreed, though he didn't seem too bothered by the idea that he might be risking annoying his son. “But he is already perturbed. I have had him watching Water for me, when he would much rather be implicating your husband and his friends in Keelin's death.”

“Roman had nothing to do with it,” Claude insisted immediately. He hadn't gotten anywhere in figuring out who had, but he knew that much beyond all shadow of a doubt, and he was equally sure none of the vampires Roman was associated with were responsible, even if he wouldn't have lost any sleep over implicating a few vampires he knew. Doing so wouldn't bring any peace to Keelin's family though, not when Claude felt sure they were innocent.

“I know he didn't, Claude,” Niall soothed gently, the confidence in his voice making it clear there was no room for brokering conflicting theories, a fact that made the younger fairy smile. He wasn't sure how or when his grandfather had become so confident in the vampire he had been prepared to kill on mere suspicions, yet instead married off to his grandson in the most nontraditional of ways, but Claude appreciated it all the same... And as was always the case, he was certain Niall had his reasons. “I wouldn't being doing this for you-- I wouldn't be doing this for the both of you-- if I had any doubt of that.”

“I could use Roman's help though,” Claude admitted, without shame. “Where the investigation into Keelin's death is concerned. He offered to help.”

“Yet you chose not to let him? Why?”

That was a good question, with more than one answer, and Claude considered his words carefully, letting silence fall between him and his grandfather as they leisurely walked deeper into the heart of Sky. It hadn't been easy to decline Roman's offer, even if the idea of investigating much of the mystery at night hadn't been appealing, or even very logical. And even though Roman had expressed his frustration with the nature of his race on more than one occasion, the fact that his husband was a vampire meant he possessed a whole host of gifts no fairy did, ones that could have proven extremely useful in the investigation. Yet when it came to talking to other fairies and reaching out to the rest of Sky that also called the human realm home, Claude had known their reluctance to speak around a vampire, or even to be reminded of Claude's proximity to a vampire wouldn't have been well-received.

“It's a fairy matter,” he finally answered. “And he's not a fairy.”

Niall laughed lightly, the traces of a smile ghosting on his lips. “He most certainly is not,” the Sky prince agreed. “Yet that hasn't stopped him from journeying here regularly, even before either of you could be certain he wouldn't be killed on sight.”

“I always say he's as entitled to Faery as I am,” Claude agreed with a firm nod of his head, and the younger prince fully believed his own words.

“Then what is the problem?”

Again, Claude hesitated, but only for a moment. “Just because I say it, doesn't mean anyone else has to believe it, or trust that he's really on our side. I'm not you. I don't have your authority. I've always broken or fought against all the rules,” he pointed out, and really, Claude was quite proud of that fact, even though he was sure it had regularly been a nuisance for the elder fairy. “Just because you've given my marriage your blessing doesn't mean you've really given Roman your blessing, or at least it doesn't mean that to everyone else.” Though he wouldn't presume to really understand much of his enigmatic grandfather, Claude was positive Niall had.

“Hmmm,” Niall hummed thoughtfully, with a small nod of understanding. “And what would you have done to correct that?”

“That's between the two of you,” Claude answered, and this time, his response was immediate. Roman had expressed his desire to truly be a part of Sky, more so than the role he had now, something that went beyond merely being welcomed at the palace, and Claude had told him that was a matter for him to discuss with Niall. And while he was willing to plant the seed with his grandfather and would support Roman every step of the way if he decided to speak to Niall about it, he wouldn't speak for him now. “But helping me with this can't hurt.”

As if on cue, the pair rounded a bend, and Niall held out a hand in presentation to his grandson. “Will this suffice?”

For a moment, the only thing the younger fairy could do was take the sight in, but he couldn't keep the beaming smile from his face. “It's perfect, grandfather.”

And in Claude's opinion, it really was. The cottage was small, at least in comparison to his family's palace residence in Sky, but it felt open and immediately inviting, and he couldn't help but speed up his steps as he approached it. Welcomed by blooming gardens of texture and colors so bright, the human realm could never know their duplicate, his hand trailed over the plants and flowers as he made his way up the foot path and into the dwelling. Windows in every direction let in copious amounts of the Faery sunshine, keeping the inside nearly as bright as the world outside, and he moved easily through the open rooms, taking one in rapidly before moving through to the next. In short succession, he had retreated through the back, coming to a stand still on the small strip of land that separated it from the deep, crystal clear, blue waters that belonged to and were protected by Sky. Looking up and down the narrow stretch of white shore, there was no one as far as the eye could see.

“It's not a very popular place,” Niall mused aloud, causing Claude to spin around on the spot, the younger fairy nearly having forgotten his grandfather was with him. “Even in the dominion of Sky, it is difficult to ignore the danger water has always presented.”

Shrugging a shoulder in indifference, Claude usually wasn't quite so flippant where water was concerned-- at least not when in the human realm-- and he ventured to the water's edge, kneeling to run his fingers through the warm waters in response. “Roman likes the water the way I like the sun,” he stated simply, though he knew his grandfather was already well aware of that fact. “And I want him to be happy and comfortable when we're here. You should have seen him when he talked about the sea in Water. It was his heaven.” That was what Roman had thought and believed it had been until he had smelled Faery on Claude after his first trip home in some time and recognized the scent. “And the palace is as far away from this part of Sky as possible. I've kept him from it.”

“Does this mean we will never see you, even when you have come home?”

Standing to face his grandfather again, he shook his head. “Of course not,” he answered succinctly. “It's the family home.” And though there were no doubt members of his clan who would like to deny the fact, Roman was undeniably now a part of their family, even if only through marriage. “Last year, for his birthday, he told me all he wanted was the sun again.” He couldn't give it to him then, not in the way he had since, not without his death being as certain as if he met the sun in the human realm. “This year, I can give it to him properly... along with more than he realized he could have. Thank you for making it possible, grandfather.”

“What a difference a year makes,” the elder prince mused quietly, and the words couldn't have been more true. It had been a long journey, one that wasn't nearly over yet, but one Niall was certain was headed in the right direction finally. “Think nothing of it. I would do most anything for my family.”

Claude couldn't shake the grateful smile on his face. “I have a blood cake to bake yet, so I should be getting back, but I really can't thank you enough.”

“Give the vampire my regards on this anniversary of his, and we will be even.”

“I can do that,” he promised with a nod before stepping forward to kiss his grandfather's cheeks in farewell. “And I'll be back soon.”

Nodding once to his grandson, Niall watched his grandson disappeared from the spot, returning to the portal between realms they had traveled through. “Blood cake to bake,” he mused aloud, his lips quirking into the hint of a smile. “I will never cease to be amazed by the talents of my kin.” And with that, the ancient prince disappeared from the silent beach, to wonder to himself just how many talents he had yet to uncover.

[claude-crane]

Out of Sight - @RomanLucious

Being a vampire's wife was a constant learning experience.

It came with no manuals and there was no how-to guide that could be obtained with a quick poof to Barnes & Noble. There was no support group (though at times it really felt like there should have been), no 1-800 number, and no advice column to reach out to for guidance with the long list of unexpected things that might spring up unannounced on any given night.

And it wouldn't have really helped even if there were, when no two vampires were really much alike at all. Claude's pale eyes glanced to the side at the vampire currently dead to the world beneath a small pile of sprawled out pugs beside him.

It was just his luck he had married the most difficult-- sometimes even impossible-- one-of-a-kind in the whole, great, big, messy realm.

Oh, he loved @RomanLucious, of that there was no doubt. He loved him with parts of his heart, soul, and being he hadn't even known existed before he had wound up unexpectedly married to the vampire, and nothing about how stubborn, aloof, unpredictable, suicidal, and selfish his husband may have been over the last 48 hours would change that fact. And it was the fact that he cared so much about his husband that had him a frantic jumble of emotions now.

But he was a fairy prince, and not just any fairy prince at that. He was a Brigant, and a Brigant could accomplish and get through anything with nothing more than a smile on their face or a sword in their hand. Tempting as the sword may have been, there were enough open wounds in @VampyJo's house already, both visible and ones that would never be seen.

So Claude steeled his resolve, squared his shoulders, and plastered a smile to his face despite the fact that no one would see it. Lifting his husband's hand from the bed, he returned to the task he had given himself shortly after Roman had washed the dried blood, caked on mud, and loose dirt away, and that task was eliminating as many lingering signs of the the last two nights as possible.

The saying “out of sight, out of mind” wouldn't really apply here, and Claude knew that. No matter how much dried blood, dirt, and who-knew-what he scraped out from under Roman's nails, there was no one in the house who wasn't thinking about what had happened so unexpectedly a few night's earlier. Though he had maintained his vigilant Brigant smile and though he had done everything he could to distract anyone who happened across him, Claude hadn't been immune, and he still couldn't wrap his mind around everything that had happened himself.

It seemed like such a blur, no matter how many times he tried to recount it. One minute, @fangtastic_Pam had been hastily thrusting a wrinkled note of a few words into his hands, only to demand to know where Roman was the next. The idea of @SheriffNorthman leaving the house to meet with @BrodyKeyes was beyond comprehensible, but the idea that Roman might have gone with him was nothing short of terrifying. Faster than Claude ever could have managed, even if he'd have poofed around the four corners of the house yelling out his husband's name for all and sundry to hear, Pam had searched the premises and declared his mister undoubtedly absent. And that truth had been paralyzing, even if Claude had done his best not to show it.

He had barely had time to process it before Pam was collapsing in front of him, sending shivers through the fairy and panic into the heart of the house they had been sharing since the ginger witch had declared war on each and every one of them. It had been a complete madhouse, with him supporting Pam and @WaylonLee_ and @AbigaleDawson rushing in just in time for Roman to come barreling through the well-guarded front doors carrying the lifeless body of the Viking in his arms.

Eric's condition had been shocking. The pale skin of a vampire side-by-side with the blackened skin that could only have been charred by fire was enough to turn any stomach. The gaping wounds that had to be the result of flesh being burned away was grotesque. Blood had dripped freely from open wounds and onto the polished floors. Claude was no expert in gauging just how close a vampire may or may not have been to being dead for good, but from Pam's reaction, the fairy was certain the Viking hadn't been far from meeting his end.

And despite that, it hadn't even been what really had Claude's attention. Instead of focusing on the Viking, as always, Claude's attention rested on the vampire who had carried him.

“You really do know how to make an impressive entrance, sunshine,” he mused quietly to the dead vampire beside him while continuing to clear his nails from all lingering signs of the entrance in question.

In the frantic activity and energy that had rapidly overtaken the house as they worked to get Eric in a position where he might begin recovering, Claude hadn't been able to find out just how much of the blood that covered Roman was the Viking's, and how much of it belonged to Roman himself. Eric wasn't the only one who showed signs of just having been through a fire, and while Claude was infinitely grateful his husband was at least conscious, upright, and mobile in spite of that, his concern and need to make sure Roman would be fine had threatened to bubble over at any and every moment, even while Roman had been in the middle of giving his quick rundown of what had occurred.

But he had never been given the chance to find out. As quickly as Roman had returned, he had left again, and his parting words had echoed viciously through Claude's mind since.

“Don't. Just don't.”

Really, Roman?!

It was bad enough that Roman had left the house and put his life on the line without so much as a single word... and Claude had looked. He had checked every square inch of the kitchen to see if Roman had sneaked a note into it when his back had been turned, he had checked their room for something left on a beside table, he had even checked his fabulous Fablet to see if he had somehow missed a text alert when @EthanBlane was belting something from Guys and Dolls. Roman had gone after the ginger witch with the Viking without saying a thing to him, in any form. What if it had been him who had been carried back to Jo's unconscious, broken, and bleeding? What if he hadn't made it back at all?

Claude had already accepted that Roman's existence was always going to be far from safe. Roman would go running into a burning building rather than away from it. He would fight an uphill battle when outgunned and outnumbered. He would risk life and limb for what he thought was right, whether it was remotely practical or not. He'd jump in front of a lemoned drink heading directly for a bitchy fairy some managed to find obnoxious and condescending, even if it ruined his wardrobe.

That was who Roman was, and Claude would never try to change it. He understood it.

But that didn't mean he had to like it all the time.

And it didn't mean he wasn't entitled to desperately try to talk him out of it either, even if he'd do it for entirely selfish reasons. He'd do anything to protect Roman, even at the expense of others, but he hadn't even had the chance to protest, nor had Roman given him the opportunity to hear pretty promises wrapped in lies the fairy could try to find some sense of comfort in.

He didn't want to be a widow. He didn't want to lose his husband. The mere thought was utterly devastating.

Being sent to the Summerlands by a psychotic witch with a larceny and arson fetish was a much easier pill to swallow than the idea of losing the husband he hadn't known he wanted until he had already had him was. He hadn't even known how badly Roman might have been hurt before the vampire was racing out the door in search of the one who had already caused so much damage in his wake. He honestly hoped Roman didn't find his target, not on his own, not when there was a good chance he had already been injured.

But Roman hadn't come home at all. There hadn't been a text, nor a message delivered by someone else. Though Claude was positive Roman was still as alive as he had been when he left the house a second time, he wasn't sure he was alive and well.

And that made him worry. And it made him angry. And it made him hurt.

And so he had baked. He tried not to think about Pam sitting vigil at her Maker's bedside. He tried not to think about @LaceyTB fretting over the Viking and @JackDanielsTB. He tried not to think about Abi regularly sighing, her presence in the kitchen, but her thoughts as far from their tasks as his own. He tried not to think about Jo trying to keep the house functioning as normal. He tried not to think about Eric's condition, nor that he was a fairy in the house with a drained, healing vampire who would eventually wake in time, and be starving. He tried not to think about how upset @JulianAjax_ rightfully would be when he found out Roman had left the house on a suicide mission yet again.

He tried not to think about how scared he was. He tried not to think of how utterly alone he felt in a house full of people.

Roman was the strongest vampire Claude knew, and the fairy was positive his husband was so much more than a pair of fangs and a silent heart. If there was anyone Claude believed wholeheartedly couldn't be bested by the creeper with a grudge, he was sure it was Roman, but he would have thought much the same about the Viking. The silence from his husband and the silence that had been forced upon him had been cruel and unusual punishment he most definitely hadn't deserved.

Rapidly finishing up the necessary nail repair, he decided not to think about it now. There was some sense of comfort in having Roman home in mostly one piece, and at nightfall, he'd be conscious, and that was a comfort not everyone in the house was privilege to. In the grand scheme of things, Claude was a very fortunate vampire's wife, and he reminded himself of that now.

But the vampire better have believed they were eventually going to have a talk about what it meant to be a fairy's husband.

[princevladtepes]

Dreams

He had dreamed before-- countless times, in fact-- for as long as he had been a vampire. When he had still been but a mortal man, his dreams had only been as vivid as they had become in death when he had recently consumed the blood of the undead within his retinue, or more specifically, that of @AriannaReinhart and the eldest Barbarossa brother, the same Barbarossa who had become his own brother in death. He still found it odd that, of all the places and times to have gone to in his dreams, he had found himself in Wallachia so long ago, remembering a life and a time he had long left behind. But had he really? After all, this was where it had all begun, was it not? Finding himself atop the hillside his own elder brother had fallen at the foot of was no mere coincidence. The death of his father's heir had cleared the way for him to lead, and lead he had. His reign had ultimately been brief, but his impact had been great. Even when alive, he had etched himself so deeply into the annals of history and time that he was guaranteed to never be forgotten, nor ignored. Of course, @RomanLucious hadn't shown him the respect he had deserved, not by the end of things. As soon as the mere thought of the memory had crossed his mind, he found he no longer stood atop the hill in Târgoviște and was instead in the home he had known in Braşov. The sun he had stood in had vanished, the only light coming from the windows delivered by that of the moon. The torches that flickered on the walls cast everything in shadows, but his hands... He lifted them to examine them. They were stained in blood so fresh, it dripped from his fingers and pooled on the floor at his feet. The clothing he found himself in now were ripped and stained in more blood still. Was it his, or did it belong to someone else? The thought had only just flitted through his mind before he realized he knew this night. This was the night that had changed everything: the night Barbarossa had robbed him of his God given right to slay his wife for her treachery. Both she and the vampire had escaped his wrath then, if barely, but it had sealed the need for vengeance that wouldn't be held to the meager time constraints of a mortal life. Every time his thoughts turned to another moment in time, something significant, something regularly on his mind, he found himself transported abruptly, the world around him changing to adjust to his wanderings. There was the night Arianna had acquiesced to his demands and finally turned him to an existence that knew only night. There was the night he had conquered his first vampire as one of the undead, draining them callously of every drop of blood within their veins and taking their power for himself. There was the night his Maker had left him, fleeing into the depths of the night. And then, there was the night he had found @JulianAjax_. He had been so looking forward to the chance to eliminate the entire line of Barbarossa, punishing the weak humans Roman had left behind for the his irredeemable errors. Arianna had warned him of being a Maker when still new to the existence himself, but he had paid little attention to her words, both because he had no interest in observing any rules that weren't his own, and because he had had no interest in turning another. Yet when he had found Julian, that was precisely what he had done. Turning Roman's brother only to then turn Julian against him had been a stroke of genius for so many more than one, single reason, yet somewhere in it all, he had gone wrong. In the void, @AlexiNicholis had sworn Julian was loyal to him, yet his progeny had betrayed him with such ease when the opportunity had presented itself. Swiftly, the dream had turned again, and he found himself in his home in New Orleans, atop the staircase that led down to the foyer he had been burned, drained, and staked within, only to then be locked within a casket and damned to nine months in an impenetrable prison of darkness only Alexi had freed his mind from. Two things occurred to him at this thought. In these dreams now, he found himself alone. The places, the clothes, the details were all exact in their detail, but he was a lone being in an empty world. Secondly, he had never had such control over his dreams before. His mind attempted to work through the puzzle of both. The control he found now could only be attributed to Alexi, to either the witchcraft that had sent him to the purgatory they had briefly shared, or to the magic that had withdrawn him so suddenly and pulled him from the void with it. But why was he as alone here now as he had been before Alexi had found him in the nothingness? He couldn't recall a time when his world of dreams had been so completely vacant. Sitting down upon the top step of the staircase now, he had no idea how long he puzzled through the equation before understanding dawned upon him. Wherever it was Barbarossa had tucked his body away, it could only be the night. Without blood in his veins to awaken him in the actual world, he was left to the only world he could inhabit, but it wasn't meant to know him in these hours. The sun would rise, however, and when it did, with the newfound control over the manifestations of this world, he wouldn't be alone. For there were other vampires who dreamed, and he knew each of them well.

[princevladtepes]

The Call

The night was too quiet. It wasn't the first time Vlad had thought such a thing since the entourage of Area Five vampires and Supernaturals had suddenly descended upon his city, an unwelcome infestation of degenerates and traitors polluting his territory like a plague waiting to claim its next victim. As he stood on the balcony of his home, pale hands clenched tightly to the wrought iron of the fence that enclosed it, his mind played through their arrival as it had so many times since, searching his memory for anything he might have missed in the moment, when he had been flooded with so much righteous anger and suspicion. With clarity and recall only a vampire could possess, he played through every moment, time and time again, absorbing and reabsorbing every tedious and infuriating moment of it as if experiencing it for the first time anew. Northman and his minions had been too calm. They had been too polite. It had been years since his ongoing hunt for Roman Lucious Barbarossa had first brought him to Louisiana, and in all that time, he had never been treated with the respect and consideration deserved of a vampire in his position and of his stature. @SheriffNorthman could occasionally be relied upon for paying his due respect with his righteous, if not pathetic, hero worship, but those who owed him fealty were far less reliable. He could recall with perfect clarity the first time he had encountered @VampyJo in the parking lot of @BarWithABite shortly after her turning. He had sensed and even smelled her bond with Barbarossa easily, and he had loathed her for it. She had been disrespectful, clueless, and a disgrace to the name of vampire, and with Barbarossa himself acting as her guardian that would never change, yet now she could be cowed into silence and obedience when in his presence? Who did they really think they were fooling? They had marched into his foyer seemingly with their souls laid bare. There had been no attempts to hide the fact that @WerepireLucian was a slain mutt still so fresh, the scent of his last full moon still clung to the air around him. The Werecat @BrierFerrior had stood among them at the height of the full moon, determinedly and resolutely unchanged despite the pull he must have felt, in order to make no secret of his presence in Area One. And then there had been the witches... Northman better than most knew of Vlad's deep hatred for those who practiced witchcraft, yet not one, but two had been led in for inspection and consideration. He hadn't been ignorant of the fact that the scent of death clung to both @JadeChiara_ and @WitchyHannah in the same way it might a vampire, though he had refrained from comment, unwilling to show his hand to the enemy as they so boldly and shamelessly displayed their own. The human bloodbags among them, the telepath @BarmaidSookie and the blood cow @EthanBlane were puzzling for other reasons still. While Vlad had made no secret of the fact that he had no interest in draining Northman's bonded for fear the burden of others thoughts would become his own, he wouldn't hesitate to dispose of the woman by other, more brutal means. Vlad didn't expect the Viking to be so careless as to lead her directly into his city and make no attempts to conceal her presence there. It had been tempting-- too tempting-- to appease the rage their arrival had spurred within him by ripping her fragile heart mercilessly from her chest, but he had the presence of mind to know such would likely be a trap the witches were warning of. The other human blood cow seemed equally likely to be a tempting trap to ensnare him. He would not take the bait. And he wouldn't be so foolish as to believe they had made their journey without Barbarossa either. Oh, they had claimed with conviction not to know where the bane of Vlad's existence was, but the faint traces of smugness that leaked into their voices while proclaiming their ignorance was enough to tell Vlad Barbarossa too would roam the streets of New Orleans for the foreseeable future. Whether or not they attempted to deceive him ultimately mattered very little to Vlad. What mattered first and foremost was getting his hands on Barbarossa once and for all. Once he was in his grasp, prone and begging for his final death, the others would be made to pay for their deceptions while Barbarossa witnessed. Only then would he be merciful enough to deliver the death blow that had been owed for centuries upon centuries. But finding the bane of his existence was no easy task. It had been practical if not tactical to send @DakotaARyan to trail the invading army from Area Five. His servant, while often a disappointment and even inexcusable failure, had actually proven herself useful in recent events. There was little doubt in his mind it had been the beast he had dismantled belonging to Barbarossa that she had discovered and delivered the carcass of on his order that had led his eternal enemy directly to his doorstep. Vlad knew that if she stayed on them as instructed, it was inevitable the Viking and his underlings would eventually lead her straight to Barbarossa himself. He operated under no delusion that it would be immediate, quite the contrary. The Area Five entourage had simply been too pleased to say they were unaware of his location to believe they would be found staying together at one of the numerous vampire hotels New Orleans had to offer. No, it would be more complicated than that and require constant, diligent observation. Without it, Barbarossa would continue to evade. The whole thing reeked of confounded magic and fae trickery. He could feel it in the very air. And it was easy to place the blame for the fact that Barbarossa had managed to evade him thus far on the fairy his nemesis had taken as a wife, @ClaudeCrane. Vlad had always been able to find Barbarossa. He had tracked him around the world more times than could be counted. He had found him on the highest of mountains and in the deepest of valleys. He had traced him to the middle of oceans and to the most remote and hidden corners of the world, without trouble, without effort. Yet now, despite his attempts, Vlad could not find him... and in his own city at that! Infuriatingly, it was as if his enemy was cloaked and concealed in a way he had never successfully been before. There was no trace to track, not even a hint of the familiar scent that could boil his cold blood in an instant. The layer of protection the fairy was wittingly or unwittingly providing was difficult to crack, but it would be cracked. It had to be. He would allow no other option and humor no other possibility. The sizable bottle of the fae's blood that currently sat upon his bedside table would help with that, Vlad was sure. Uncorked only once in order to verify the boon Dakota had brought to him was as she claimed, he had easily recognized the scent as the same as the one that had clung to the marriage contract also in his possession. Untainted with the scent of poisons or other potential ensnarements, it smelled only of the rarest and most potent of fae and the magic that encompassed it. Barbarossa's weapon would become his own. With the fae's blood in his veins and his scent heavy upon him, Vlad was sure the fairy could be tracked and found. There was a small flaw to such a plan, and that was the only thing that had kept him from indulging in the windfall thus far. It was common knowledge that the blood of the fae had a tendency to inebriate a vampire well beyond his control. He didn't consider himself as obviously weak and as limited as other vampires, however. The lust he knew best was bloodlust, and there was much blood he yearned to spill across the streets of his territory. Still, with pieces of this great puzzle unfolding in front of him, caution was necessary. He was impossible to threaten and impossible to make feel threatened, but there was something decidedly different about this time from all other times he and Barbarossa had faced one another with the intention of ending the other. There was a distinct feeling of finality in the air that was impossible to ignore. Perhaps it was the fact that @BiancaNorthman had not been a part of the party that had traveled to New Orleans. Perhaps it was the fact that Barbarossa had had the unexpected bout of courage to march upon his city instead of hiding away in a hole as expected. Perhaps it was the fact that, after seven hundred years, Barbarossa had finally taken a wife. Perhaps it was simply the magic that permeated every recess of the city. Perhaps it was the fact that, for once, he didn't feel he knew exactly what the intentions of his normally transparent nemesis were. Uncertain exactly what was to blame, the feeling was strong yet strangely satisfying. Too long he had played this game with Barbarossa. Too long had the vampire escaped his due punishment by luck and good fortune he didn't deserve to have. Too long he had let others pay for the high crime that had been committed against Vlad himself. It had played out over seven centuries in shadows and left countless victims-- willing and unwilling-- in its wake. It was time for every secret, long carefully protected and concealed, to be exposed. It was time for every shadow in their long standing feud to be illuminated and laid bare just in time to put the final nail in Barbarossa's coffin. He would eternally bask in the shock he could cause before ending his nemesis once and for all. Pale hands still gripping the black iron of the balcony, Vlad's pale eyes fell closed. With magic present in the air over New Orleans, he called upon some magic of his very own to join it, a magic in his very blood. It shivered and pulsed through his very veins, unhampered by the limitations of miles and distance, reaching and calling out in a silent, yet impossible to ignore command, and with it, Vlad was certain he was sealing the finality of this encounter. A smile stretched across his lips at the thought. He was ready for it, of that he knew, but would Barbarossa be?