Strange day

[maderr]

Yesterday I was supposed to work 'til 11:00, was released from purgatory an hour early. Came home and goofed off awhile talking to amasugiru & starparty, and making icons. Also edited a few stories. And decided not to sleep.

Didn't go to bed until about 3:00 pm today, woke up at about 6:00. Don't know if I'll be going to bed tonight or not.

Wrote two stories for greekgodslash, am working on a third. Also edited the beginnings of two stories that have been distracting me from my others (yes I know I need to stop writing new ones, I can't help it). They have the full support of my Official Approver, but I'm curious as to others' impressions. Especially Grave, it's somewhat harder to write than my other stuff. Have a spare moment?

Embrace is my vampire story - I think I've said before that vampires are one of my least fav genres, mostly b/c most vamp stories all seem the same to me. This is my attempt to shake things up. How? By making vampires the slaves for once.

Embrace
Prologue

"Mama…" the little boy clutched a bouquet of flowers closer to his chest, worried that he wouldn't be able to give the pretty pink Begonia's to his sister. "Mama…"

"It's okay sweetie, we've just stopped for a moment." Smiling absently at her son, the woman turned to gaze out the carriage window. She tensed at whatever she saw outside and turned back to the small boy. "Be a good boy, 'Brey and stay inside the carriage with 'Mina until Mama says you can come out, okay?"

The boy bobbed his head, tucking his nose into the lush pink flowers and mumbling, "Yes, Mama."

"That's my boy." Stroking his hair a moment, the woman then climbed out of the carriage, shutting the door behind her.

Clutching his flowers closer still, the boy clambered to the other side of the carriage and curled up next to the small woman seated on the bench. Slender arms wrapped him close, a sweet sounding voice whispering soothingly in his ear. "Mina…" he spoke feebly.

"Shh, it will be alright 'Brey. Mama just went outside to talk to some people." She pulled the boy closer, stroking his hair and continuing to murmur comforting words. The boy freed one hand from his flowers to tangle in the fabric of 'Mina's silk dress, wrinkling his nose briefly as her perfume tangled with the scent of the flowers.

Outside the voices were just barely audible, distinct enough only to make out that there was one woman and at least two men. Abruptly the voices increased in volume, and inside the carriage the boy winced at the sound of his mother's angry tone. Someone was going to get in trouble.

But his mother's shouting was cut off as suddenly as it had started, and beside him he felt 'Mina tense. "Sweetie, can you be a good boy and stay here?"

Eyes wide and lip beginning to wobble, the boy looked up at her and nodded his head. Withdrawing his arm, he again wrapped it around the bouquet, crushing the flowers to his chest. "Yes, 'Mina. Is Mama okay?"

"Mama is fine, sweetie. You just stay here so she doesn't get mad at you, all right?"

"Yes, 'Mina."

"That's a good boy," she reached out to stroke his cheek, smiling brightly despite the serious glint in her eyes. Small fangs gleamed briefly in the carriage lamplight, before the woman gathered her skirts and swung open the carriage door. Plunging out into the descending night, she turned briefly to shut the door securely behind her.

A moment later more shouting and screaming filled the air, and the boy nearly fell over as the carriage was roughly jolted. Nervously 'Brey hunched down in his seat as he recognized the angry cries of his mother and her devoted Pet. Burying his head in his flowers, he waited for the shouting to stop.

He let out a startled scream as the carriage abruptly began to move, dropping his flowers as he tumbled off the bench onto the hard carriage floor. Scrambling up, he attempted to retrieve the bouquet. But most of the flowers had been crushed when he fell, and seeing them ruined the boy finally began to cry.

Some time later the carriage finally pulled up to a lavish mansion, greeted by a frantic crowd of servants and family. But the women began to scream as they drew close, as did a few of the men. Mouth tight with anger and worry, a well-dressed, middle-aged man approached the carriage and yanked open one blood spattered door. His grim expression didn't change as he took in the sight of a small boy, curled up amongst crushed flowers on the floor of the carriage. His eyes skimmed over the rest of the carriage, and he snarled at the realization it was empty.

He turned sharply around, addressing the pale, nervous servants gathered on the front steps. "Vlad, take some men and hunt the road. Find my wife. Somebody take my son to his room. And get that mess cleaned up," he waved a hand at the driver's seat, where sat the body of a woman. A gleaming knife protruded from her stomach, and blood covered the rich green silk dress she was wearing. Her hair was a mess, the platinum blond strands tangled with leaves and dirt, sticky with blood where she'd tried to shove it from her face.

With that the man turned back to the house, the servants hastily parting to let him pass. They watched in silence as he stalked down a wide marble hallway toward a room at the end of it. The house echoed with the sound of a slamming door.

Gingerly a plump maid pulled the exhausted boy from the carriage, whispering and murmering with the other servants. "The poor thing…did he see what happened? Put him with his sister…" The women returned inside, leaving the men to the gruesome task of disposing of the dead vampire on the carriage seat.

Chapter One

"You should let me put the roof up, sir," the servant turned briefly around to eye the young man hunched up in a corner of the open carriage.

"It isn't necessary. Long journeys in the freezing cold haven't killed me yet so I highly doubt this one will. Anyway, I told you I hate closed carriages." Moss green eyes stared up at the driver, the only visible part of the speaker's face.

"You still want to stop at the Inn, sir?"

"Yes."

"As you wish, sir."

Silence fell as the carriage continued steadily on through the chilly winter afternoon. Above the sky was gloomy, filled with dark gray clouds that occasionally let rays of tired sunlight slip through. Naked trees lined the old road the carriage traveled, barren fields stretching out behind them. In the distance smoke curled up to the sky, and from time to time came the harsh cry of the few birds that remained throughout the winter months.

Aubrey stifled a sigh as he watched the tired landscape, torn between relief that the long, cold journey was nearly over and dismay that the final destination was home. As the curls of smoke drew closer, the dismay began to win out. Resolutely he fought it down, recalling the few good things about being home again. He shifted his gaze from the landscape to the carriage floor, where lay a medium sized box. It was carefully padded against the jarring and shaking of the carriage. Inside the heavy scarf wrapped around his mouth, he smiled softly as he called to mind the dog roses that were secured inside. The delicate pink and white flowers were for his sister's garden, one he knew she did not have.

"Almost there, sir."

"Wonderful. At least we can warm up a bit before heading home."

"Yes, sir."

Aubrey suppressed another sigh, letting his thoughts meander as they pulled ever closer to the small town that he had not seen for nearly five years. His first thought as they approached it was that it had not changed much at all. Mildly curious he let his eyes wander over the familiar shops and homes, watching servants and peasants bustle to and fro while nobles stepped carefully through and around the snow and grime, their servants and Pets trailing behind and occasionally beside them. His eyes caught briefly on one Pet, a woman dressed in a heavy, green wool dress. Her black hair was pulled severely back as she trailed a few feet behind an austere looking man. Aubrey's gaze moved on, coming to rest at last on an old inn as the carriage slowed to a stop in front of it.

Unwinding his scarf, Aubrey smiled briefly as he stepped inside. A servant immediately appeared to take his things, and Aubrey paused at a conveniently placed mirror to straighten his disheveled light brown hair, straightening his silk jacket and adjusting the stiff collar of his fine linen shirt. Turning away, he breathed deeply of the warm air, enjoying the scent of bread and meat wafting through the place.

Another man suddenly appeared at his elbow, smiling graciously. "Why, if it isn't young Master Aubrey! Good afternoon, sir!"

Aubrey nodded, smiling politely. "Good afternoon, Mr. Aglio. I see business is as strong as ever."

"Oh, yes Sir. Everyone loves the Periwinkle. Are you returned from school, young Master?"

"Yes, Aglio. I won't be staying long, I just wanted a hot meal for myself and my man before returning home."

"Of course, sir. The cold is simply horrid today; you don't want to ride two more hours without something warm and filling. Right this way, we have a place by the fire for you."

"Thank you."

Aglio lifted a meaty arm to wave over one of the dining room waiters, snapping quiet instructions as he led the much shorter Aubrey to small table set near an overlarge fireplace. In a matter of minutes, a simple but well made meal was set out on the table. Aglio opened the bottle of wine himself, smiling and chatting as he saw to Aubrey's comfort.

"Thank you Aglio, I will be fine on my own now."

"Of course young master, please enjoy your meal. Let me know if there is a problem."

"Yes." Aubrey said dismissively, turning his attention to the rich lamb stew set before him. The owner departed, leaving Aubrey to his meal. He enjoyed the near silence of the private dining room, the other diners talking lowly together in their own attempts to maintain the soothing calm. The only other sounds were of people clamoring around outside the snapping and crackling of the fire.

Slowly Aubrey ate his stew, pausing only for a bite of bread or a sip of wine. He found himself relaxing despite the knot of dread in his stomach that would not let him forget he would shortly be home.

The sound of people in the lobby brought his head up in idle curiosity, which quickly turned to pleasure as a familiar form passed through the doorway. The man instantly landed on Aubrey and the two men smiled. Climbing to his feet, Aubrey allowed the other man a brief embrace before pulling away. "Stregoni, what are you doing here? I hadn't expected to run into you so soon."

The slightly taller man winked one blue-gray eye, his young face full of laughter. "My mom recognized your carriage - who wouldn't really? She came running home in a tizzy to tell me, and I ran over here in my own tizzy. I wasn't expecting you until it had warmed up a bit. Don't tell me you rode all this way in that carriage?"

Aubrey motioned the man to sit down, his expression turning impatient. "Of course I did. I don't ride in closed carriages."

"All right, all right." Stregoni held up his in a placating manner. "I know that, it just seems a little cold for it, is all."

"Definitely too cold, but I preferred to just get it over with." Aubrey paused to thank the servant that brought out more food and wine. "Hungry?"

"Starving." Stregoni began to help himself, digging into his meal with gusto. "You have excellent timing, 'Brey."

"Oh? How so?" Aubrey nibbled at pieces of fruit, sitting back to watch his friend attack the food.

Stregoni paused in his eating to grin, "I was leaving for your house in just a couple more hours for my week up there. And before you ask, your sister is fine - at least as fine as she ever is. I was up there just a couple of weeks ago and all she could talk about was your return. She won't hold still these days."

Aubrey's entire face brightened at the mention of his sister, "Milla's doing well? I'm only two days travel away but letters are still so slow to reach me, and she refuses to let someone else write them for her…" he frowned slightly at the last statement.

"Carmilla is fine. In fact she's been much better since you sent word of your return. I am still impressed you finished in just five years." Stregoni shook his head; his orange-red locks nearly the same color as the flames flickering in the fireplace beside them.

Setting his wine glass down hard on the table, Aubrey's expression darkened. "Yes well, I couldn't very well leave her alone with that lot for the whole seven could I? I would never have left in the first place if--"

"Yes, yes, I know. But you," the redhead glared pointedly at the other man, "know that school was the best thing for both of you. Do really want to be under your father's thumb your entire life? Anyway, you're back now." Stregoni stared down at the table, somewhat surprised to see all the food was gone. "Guess I was hungrier than I thought."

Aubrey chuckled softly, rising smoothly from the table and tossing down a few gold pieces. "I can see that you've not changed at all in five years, other than your hair growing even more wild."

"Oh ha, ha." Stregoni reached up to attempt and smooth out his mop of orange-red curls. "Can I catch a ride with you? I was going to ride my horse, but…"

"Of course you can ride with me. I was going to make you anyway." In the entrance lobby, Aubrey accepted his heavy coat and scarf from the attendant. "If we can maintain a steady pace we can make it before it gets too dark."

"Ready, sir?" his servant asked from where he was already seated at the front of the carriage, "Master Benefici, good day to you sir."

"Hullo Jim, how are you?"

"Just fine, thank you sir. Riding to the manor today?"

"I am, if the cold doesn't kill us first. Rather chilly today, isn't it?"

"Bitingly cold, sir. But I'll have us home as quick as I can. Just bundle up with Master Aubrey and it shouldn't be so bad."

"Thank you, Jim." Stregoni clambered up into the carriage, settling down beside Aubrey and pulling the carriage blanket securely over them. A moment later they were in motion, moving as quickly as was safe out of town and up the worn dirt road that would take them to Aubrey's home.

Aubrey pulled his scarf away from his mouth, "So tell how things are at home, Stregoni. I of course get my sister's letters, and the occasional note from father seeking verification that his money is not wasted but neither of those sources is very informative."

Stregoni shrugged, "It hasn't changed much. Your dad is still intolerable, your sister is still a darling, Gille is still a complete waste of humanity."

At those words Aubrey started to laugh, the sound clear and loud in the open air. "Are you two still trying to kill one another? I would have thought you'd grown out of it."

"It's hard to grow out of something when that moron never bothered to grow up. He's impossible, especially since acquiring his creepy little Pet."

Aubrey's laughter turned into a coughing fit, and he gaped at the redhead in consternation. "Who gave him a Pet? Please don't tell me my father agreed to that?"

Stregoni rolled his eyes, "Who do you think bought him one? I'd be careful by the way, given how utterly weak and incompetent you are."

"Very funny. I'd prefer not to hear myself described thus until I absolutely have to, thanks. Why should I be careful? You mean about the Pets?"

"No, I mean that I think your father is contemplating getting one for you. The waste of space was trying to goad me with it - you might be getting a blood drinker for a graduation present. Because all real lords and ladies have them, you know."

Green eyes closed in frustration as Aubrey dropped his head to his hands and groaned in despair, "No, no, no. There is no way I will tolerate having a Pet."

The redhead clapped him sympathetically on the back, "I don't know if it's true or not, but I thought I'd give you fair warning."

Lifting his head, Aubrey again settled back in his seat. A scowl covered his face, all traces of his good humor gone. "I will kill him if he dares to pull such a ridiculous stunt. I told him long ago I wouldn't tolerate such a thing, I don't care how fashionable it is."

"Don't get so angry, 'Brey. Like I said, it was probably just Moron trying to goad me. He knows how much you hate the idea of owning a Pet." Stregoni sat back with a sigh, "Anyway, you would have to go along to pick one out and I don't think they could get you do that short of knocking you unconscious, which sort of defeats the purpose of taking you."

"I should never have come home. I should have just gotten a job in the city and sent for my sister once I was established."

"Ha, like that was ever a possibility. And you would never have left me all alone, would you? You and your sister are my only bright spot, I'd simply perish without you around." Stregoni pouted, laughing when Aubrey only snorted. "Anyway, we both know your sister would never survive even a trip into town, never mind to a city several days away."

Unhappily Aubrey nodded, "I know. It's the only reason I put up with those asses I'm forced to call family."

Stregoni looked at him sympathetically, squeezing his shoulder briefly before relaxing back in his seat. "So tell me about your studies."

Beside him Aubrey had begun to pull his scarf back up over his face, but at his friend's request he immediately forgot the scarf, sitting up and launching into a detailed explanation of how he spent his five years at school. The conversation continued as the gloomy day shifted into an equally gloomy night, and both men barely noticed when they finally pulled up to Aubrey's lavish, elaborate home.

"I suppose this moment should feel more…momentous?" Aubrey stared gloomily up at his house, the swirling, intricate architecture reminding him only that he was back where he least wanted to be. Slowly he moved forward and began to climb the steps, pausing as the door swung open to reveal a familiar - and welcome - face. "Vlad!"

The steward smiled warmly as he let the two men inside, "Master Aubrey, it's good to have you home again. Master Stregoni, always a pleasure to have you."

Aubrey only nodded, letting his gaze wander the entrance hall. He was unsurprised to see it had changed not at all in the five years he had been gone. The house was quiet, something else that never changed. "Everyone is well?"

"As well as they ever are," Vlad smiled, "I believe your father is awaiting your arrival in the red salon. Let me take your coats and you can go to greet him," the older man immediately divested them of their travel clothes and disappeared.

Suppressing a desire to turn and run, Aubrey stiffened his slender shoulders and walked resolutely down the checkered marble floor, stopping at the third door down and knocking sharply. A curt "enter" responded, and smiling weakly at Stregoni's reassuring nod he swung the door open.

"Father," Aubrey sketched a short bow for the man seated in a deep armchair near the fire on the far side of the room - directly across from the door. He hated the red salon, loathed it. Valiantly Aubrey fought to keep his emotions from his face, something at which he normally excelled but at which he failed so abysmally in front of the man that looked as he himself would in a few more decades.

"Aubrey. It's about time you returned, we expected you an hour ago. Benefici," Lord Sangre nodded to the redhead before redirecting a cool gaze on his son, "I see you stopped in town."

"Yes, sir. To warm up and rest, before the journey here. The driver was tired and--"

"I don't want to hear it. You have missed dinner, and your sister has already gone to bed."

"My apologies, father."

The man's cool look didn't change, "Enough. Are you going to greet you cousin, or ignore him all night?" He waved a hand at the man standing beside him, and Aubrey forced himself to actually examine the other occupants in the room.

His cousin stood to the right of his father chair, the family resemblance immediately obvious. Gille dressed much like Aubrey's father, the height of fashion but still very conservative. They eschewed much of the extra lace and trim that was so popular, still making a statement that did not go unnoticed. The only difference was Gille's hair, which he wore in a short braid, where Sangre had cut his short and close to the head.

Aubrey nodded politely, ignoring the smirk on his cousin's face and letting his eyes wander to the left side of the room where two elegant men sat quietly. His face clouded with displeasure as he took in the collars around their throats - a new trend for decorating and marking Pets.

His frown deepened as he noticed that one was staring intently back at him, fangs bared in a laughing smile. The vampire had brown hair, dark enough that it was almost black. He was handsome, but the sharp angles of his face kept him from being beautiful. His eyes stood out though, a rich blue violet that seemed out of place in his stern features. Gille's voice interrupted his perusal, "That's Francois, my Pet. Quite the acquisition, is he not?"

At that, Francois rose gracefully from his seat to bow liquidly before Aubrey. "Master Sangre, an honor to meet you."

Aubrey nodded shortly to the vampire, who again sat down but never took his gaze off the young lord.

Aubrey shook his head and shifted his attention to the other figure, up to now completely motionless. This one did not wait for an introduction, rising from his seat and bowing as elegantly as Francois had. Aubrey narrowed his eyes, ignoring the vampire and turning to his father, "Did you get a new Pet, father? Whatever happened to Elisabeth?"

His father seemed annoyed, "Don't be absurd, Elisabeth is in my room. This is your Pet, a graduation present. It's bad enough you went off to that ridiculous school for five years. I won't tolerate your radical ideas while you're still under my roof. We'll make a respectable man and noble out of you yet."

"I don't need or want a Pet!" Aubrey snapped, all thoughts of discretion fleeing from his mind. "It's wrong! Take him back; sell him, whatever you prefer. I won't keep him."

Sangre rose stiffly to his feet, leaning heavily on the ornate silver cane in his right hand. "I don't recall caring about what you want. You've caused me enough problems with your intolerable opinions. You are back; you will do as you are told. Ruthven is bought and paid for, there's no taking him back or selling him. If you will not feed him, he will starve to death. Do you want to see that happen? I will leave you to get acquainted. I have work to finish before I will be able to go to bed. Good night."

Silence descended for several seconds after Sangre departed, shortly broken by the condescending laughter of Gille. "The righteous loser returns at last. It was nice with you gone, cousin. Why did you bother to return?"

Aubrey glared, anger filling his face. "I was really hoping to hear of your death while I was away, Gille. As usual you disappoint."

"Oh, I'm not the disappointment around here. And while we're speaking of disappointments, I see you brought the carrot with you."

Stregoni, patiently silent up to that point, strode into the center of the room and away from the door. "You're one to talk, living off your uncle because your own father is too incompetent."

Gille sneered, "Let's not start casting those stones." He redirected his gaze toward his cousin, "Not when we have Pets to take care of." He laughed at the suppressed rage that flickered over Aubrey's face. "Come now, darling cousin mine. Don't you want to meet your Ruthven? I picked him out myself, just for you. I have to say I was almost tempted to keep him, but it's all I can do to care for Francois." So saying, he crooked a finger at his own dark haired vampire.

Francois rose from the settee, moving across the room to his owner. At an unspoken command he twined one long, slender arm loosely around Gille's neck, angling his head up and sinking delicate fangs into the tall man's throat. Gille did not react, barely seeming to notice that a man was drinking his blood.

Snorting and rolling his eyes, Stregoni turned away from the purposeful spectacle and helped himself to the small bar at the back of the room. His feet were soundless on the dark red carpet, a shade that was repeated on the walls, curtains, and furniture in the small, oppressive salon. Where there was no red, there was instead black or gold.

Breath hissing out as he watched his cousin's antics, Aubrey turned away to confront the vampire he desperately wanted to avoid. He permitted himself to be briefly distracted by the flowers on the small table next to the settee - a bouquet of gladioli. They were almost perfectly white, changing to a soft yellow only at the center. The flowers he had sent his sister for her last birthday; the sight of them made him smile briefly. Reluctantly he shifted his gaze to the man still standing silently, waiting for acknowledgement.

His immediate reaction was to turn around and do severe bodily harm to his monstrous cousin. Knowing that would accomplish nothing, he forced himself to simply examine the vampire. He was tall, Aubrey noted morosely. He would barely reach the vampire's shoulder, something he knew his cousin had done intentionally. Along with the hair, a rather unique shade of blonde similar in color to the beeswax used for candles throughout the house. It was cut short, the fine strands falling softly around the vampire's face. In stark contrast, his eyes looked nearly black - it was impossible for Aubrey to tell their actual color.

His clothes were black, and fit tightly to what was clearly a well-toned form. The sleeves of his shirt were slightly too long, hanging just past his wrists and making his hands look smaller than they really were. Around his throat was a collar, also black in color. Nearly growling in anger, Aubrey turned around to confront his smug looking cousin.

"Why so upset, darling cousin? Is he not to your liking? After all the trouble I went to? You wound me."

"I'm going to wound you, have no doubts of that," Aubrey spat out. "You know I hate Pets. How dare you! If you want to be a complete ass, then fine. You're good at that. But don't force your disgusting habits on me!"

Gille laughed in delight, "You don't have a choice, oh righteous one. He'll get sick and die if you don't feed him. Do you really want the death of another vampire on your shoulders?"

Face paling in rage and pain, Aubrey tensed to launch himself at his sneering cousin. But a flash of orange brought him up short. Across the room, Stregoni had moved a few steps closer and swung his arm out, the drink held there flying from the cup to land all over Gille's head and face.

"You vile little--" Gille turned and stalked toward a laughing Stregoni.

"Serves you right. Come any closer I'll break the expensive bottles over your head. You've done enough for one night, Gille. Take your Pet and go get a bath. You smell like a drunkard."

Gille paused, though he was still furious. "You'll pay for that one Stregoni, you'll pay for it dearly."

"So you say. Now go get a bath before I realize I just wasted my favorite brandy on you and get really angry."

Gille sneered, "Would you like to lick it off?"

Stregoni grinned nastily in his turn, "You wish. Fortunately for me I have taste in men - I don't waste my time on crass bastards like you."

"So you say, carrot, so you say." Gille left. Francois trailed behind him, his gaze lingering on Aubrey.

Still pale faced, Aubrey took a deep breath. Stregoni approached him with brandy glass newly refilled. "Here, looks like you could use this more than me."

Aubrey shoved it away, "Thank, but no. Not unless it's laced with poison, in which case I'd just go dump that one over his head as well."

"He just does it to upset you. Don't let it get to you."

"I know that. But…I just can't take it. What a homecoming." He laughed darkly, "About what I expected though. Nothing ever changes around here, not really." Ignoring Stregoni's concerned look, Aubrey turned to leave. He paused at the door, grip tightening on the doorknob. "Ruthven," he said tiredly, "you may as well come with me."

Silently the blonde vampire moved to follow him from the room, and up the long winding stairs to the maze of chambers upstairs. "Wait here," he spoke softly, pausing in front of a door and opening it carefully. Ducking his head in, he quickly pulled it out again. Disappointment was on his face, "I don't want to wake her. Come on, I guess we'll just go to my rooms."

Turning sharply away, Aubrey continued down the dark hallway toward his chambers. He jumped as a voice spoke behind him.

"Do I displease you that much, Master?"

"What!" Aubrey spun around, gaping in surprise a moment before shaking his head. "Don't do that."

"I should not have spoken?"

"Huh? No, I mean don't scare me like that. Of course you can talk, I certainly don't care." Aubrey swung open the door to his chambers, face expressionless as he took in the sitting room, grateful for once that something had not changed in the years he'd been gone. They bedroom beyond was done in shades of blue, but his sitting room he had redone just a few years before he left for school. It was done mostly in green, with bits of color and images of flowers giving the room a spring like feel. The furniture and paintings were all that remained of his mothers beloved spring salon, which had been converted several years ago into the red salon that Aubrey loathed.

Above the fireplace mantle was a family portrait. While he despised having to look at his father, the painting was the only one that had all four of them, even though his sister was but two years old in it, himself only five.

"I don't suppose they bothered to take care of sleeping arrangements and everything did they?" Aubrey asked as he crossed the space to his bedroom.

"I only arrived this morning, Master."

Aubrey paused to stare back at the vampire, "Enough of that. My name is Aubrey, call me 'Brey if you like. But not Master, I get enough of that from the servants that are paid to be polite. I guess you'll just have to sleep in my room somewhere." So saying Aubrey paused at the threshold of his bedroom. On a slightly raised dais was his bed, nearly groaning under the weight of the numerous blankets and pillows that he preferred in the colder months. The head and backboards were of heavy oak, the family crest carefully carved into them, surrounded by abstract swirls.

The extravagant bed took up the majority of the room, leaving only a dressing table, wardrobe, and small bookcase to take up the rest of the space. Aubrey frowned, "It looks like you'd better just sleep with me. I'm not going to leave you on one of those small things in the sitting room, and you're not sleeping on the floor. It gets way to cold in the evening. I've certainly dealt with stranger things at school."

"I do not wish to impose."

Tiredly the young man sighed, "You're not an imposition exactly. It's just that I've always refused to have anything to do with Pets, so I'm sort of at a loss as to what to do with you. But we've got a while before bed time anyway, it's only a little past seven now."

Silence fell. Ruthven stared intently at him, as stoic as he had been downstairs. "If I may ask a question?"

Collapsing into a nearby chair, Aubrey waved the other man to do the same. "Ask whatever you like."

Ruthven remained standing, "Why are you so displeased with me?"

Aubrey looked up at the towering vampire, brows raises slightly in surprise. "It's not with you that I'm displeased. Like I said before - I never wanted a Pet. I hate the whole concept. Doesn't it bother you to be raised as something little better than a cat or dog? What about that collar around your neck? Those clothes that are meant to show you off? Not to mention that once you drink my blood, you won't be able to ever leave. Unless of course I get rid of you, which is repulsive."

Thoughtfully, Ruthven reached up to finger the leather collar around his throat. "I suppose from that perspective it must seem a rather miserable existence. I have heard such opinions before, though usually it is not your kind that is expressing them. Granted a life of servitude is not what anyone wants for themselves," Ruthven shrugged his wide shoulders, shirt rippling, "but I find it hard to complain living in a place as luxurious as this, and you appear to be much better a master than many I have heard about."

"Like my father and cousin," Aubrey muttered mostly to himself.


Ruthven seemed to hesitate before finally taking the few steps to close the distance between them. Instead of sitting, he knelt on one knee beside a frowning Aubrey and looking up into his face. "Not to be rude Master, but I've not eaten since I was purchased yesterday and brought here. And that was not much, as I'd already been marked for this family."

Emotions flickered across Aubrey's face, "…I told you, I want no part of being a 'Master.' I don't know what to do, but I'm not binding you to me."

The vampire seemed disappointed, though his expression remained passive.

Aubrey huffed, disconcerted at the vampire's proximity. "What? I'm not going to just change my mind in a moment and let my father win this round."

"So you'll let me starve? That hardly seems fair, Master." Ruthven's look turned pleading.

His master wasn't buying it, "So I'm just supposed to let you feed and become like every other noble, maltreating a Pet when I've sworn never to have one?"

"You're maltreating me by starving me. If you don't like it, then care for me until you find a way to safely set me free." Ruthven spoke calmly, in a slow, matter-of-fact tone. But his eyes sparked with mischief, and Aubrey was reminded briefly of Stregoni, who was always up to something.

He shook his head, sighing tiredly. "That isn't fair at all," he complained. "I'm going to regret this, I just know it. Pets are nothing but trouble - but I can't let you starve. Damn it. Just - be quick about it."

That small smile again, as Ruthven reached up to unfasten the top buttons of Aubrey's coat and shirt, pulling the stiff color off altogether. Ducking his head, breath warm against Aubrey's neck, he bit firmly down.

Hissing at the slight pain, Aubrey noted absently that it wasn't nearly as painful as he had thought it would be. Ruthven's left arm was braced on Aubrey's side, the other arm on the back of chair as the vampire leaned up and over him, rising partially from kneeling position the floor. Aubrey's own arms twitched with the need to do something, but uncertain he let them lay at his side.

Aubrey let his eyes fall shut as dizziness and slight fatigue washed over him, his hand briefly clenching into fists. Sometime later he opened his eyes, blinking confusedly as he found himself staring into amused, dark gray eyes.

Ruthven still loomed close, seemingly content with his position. "Thank you, Master."

Aubrey pushed the demon away as he tried to sit up. He held a hand to his head, willing away the faint dizziness that made the room spin. "I told you to call me Aubrey."

Ruthven watched him a moment, before reaching out to help the man stand. "Are you all right? I tried not to take too much."

"I'm fine. But I think I'll order some food and then just go to bed."

"Allow me to help you, Master."

"I told you not - put me down!" Aubrey howled as Ruthven lifted him easily into his arms, sauntering toward the bedroom and depositing him lightly on his bed. "What shall I fetch you to eat?"

Aubrey glared at him, face flushed. "Just pull the bell rope beside the fireplace. The servants will know what I want. And don't do that! I was perfectly capable of walking."

"Of course, Master." Again he offered Aubrey one of his small, mischievous smiles.

Glaring at the vampire as he walked away, Aubrey then raised a hand to his sore neck and fell back on the bed with a groan.


Grave is my...well I can't tell you what I call it w/out spoiling things. I came up with this one in Europe, in an attempt to forget all the times I was freezing to fucking death or couldn't sleep (or both). It's more angsty than my other stuff, and inspired by a book I was rather fond of in middle school.

Grave

Part One: No Rest for the Weary
Chapter One

"This is so trite," Gennady knelt before the grave in front of him, staring tiredly at the name and dates carved so carefully into the marble. "But I couldn't help myself, Yuri. They always seemed to suit you." Gently he laid a bouquet of pale, pink roses in front of the gravestone. It seemed obnoxiously cheerful against the white marble and dark green grass. Only the midnight blue ribbon binding the roses together seemed solemn enough a color to be present at a grave.


Look at all of these…they're something else, aren't they?

I would have preferred food.

Don't be sour. We'll get food once we get home. Why not just enjoy the roses? It's not often you find so many of this color in the wild. The Mother must hold it dear.

Or maybe roses just grow well here.

No imagination at all, Gen. Maybe she's trying to tell us something.

Like what?

Like instead of grousing about food, maybe you should be showering me with affection.

Where in the world did you get that notion?

Well…it's raining…we're trapped here…pink roses everywhere…why, don't you want to shower me with affection?

That's a stupid question.

Oh? I didn't think it was. Perhaps you had better come over here and demonstrate just how stupid a question it is.

If you insist…

Reaching up he slowly traced the smooth lines of the carved letters, appreciative of the skill that had made them and the elaborate image of an angel that decorated the top quarter of the gravestone. A great deal of time and effort had been put into its making, and Gennady was comforted some by the knowledge of who had done the carving.


Does it ever creep you out at all, Gen? That your family made all these headstones?

No…because at least they were made by friends and family, rather than by a stranger. I like to think they rest easier.

Mmm…but your family profits from death. Ever look at it that way?

Someone has to do it, Yuri.

I suppose you're right. But I think it would bother me, knowing that I made money every time somebody died.

…But people feel happier knowing their loved ones are immortalized in some way. That's all my family ever wanted to do. Why do you put such a bad face on it?

Oh, you're too serious! I'm just teasing you, Gen. Come on; I'm tired of staring at gravestones already. Let's go swimming; it's a nice day for it…

Rising slowly to his feet, Gennady let his gaze linger on the grave a moment longer. At last dragging his eyes away, he pulled his heavy cloak around him and drew the dark hood over his head. He cast his eyes to the sky and examined the dark, heavy clouds that blocked all traces of the later afternoon sun. The leaden weather gave the graveyard a gloomy, despairing feel. Dropping his gaze for one last look, he at last turned away and headed back toward the graveyard entrance.

The old iron gate let out a high-pitched screech as he swung it closed behind him. Once more resettling his cloak, Gennady slowly made his way up the path away from the graveyard and toward town. Birds called back and forth in the overcast sky, and the trees shuddered with the wind that warned of coming storms. Again he flicked his eyes upwards, the color of them an exact match for the heavy, gray sky. Though he remained expressionless, Gennady picked up his pace. Halfway up the old, dirt road he veered off onto a smaller path nearly hidden by the thick grass.


It's going to rain again.

You say that like it's something strange, Gen. It never does anything but rain this time of year.

But we were supposed to leave tomorrow.

So what does the rain have to do with that? We'll still leave tomorrow.

You can't travel these roads in the rain.

We're supposed to be adventurous, Gen. If you can't even hack trying to travel in the rain, how are you going to manage the rest?

It won't matter if we get lost or stuck in the mud.

You're too serious. Come on! You're going to be a Royal Soldier, right? Soldiers laugh at rain, Gen. Laugh at it!

I'd rather laugh at it while I'm nice and dry.

You're no fun at all…

Eyes on the ground, lost in thought, his head jerked up at the sound of another's footsteps. He stopped mid stride, freezing in the middle of the path as his eyes locked on the figure quickly approaching him.

A young woman was walking steadily down the well-trodden path, a basket over one arm. Short and full-figured, her soft brown hair was pulled back in a braid that was all too familiar to Gennady's weary eyes. Her blue dress was plain but becoming, and even at a distance he knew it matched her eyes exactly. The sound of her humming drifted faintly on the storm-bringing wind, snatches of a song that was as familiar to him as her hair and eyes. Hand heavy with dread, he slowly brought it up to tug back the hood of his cloak. His dark gray hair imitated perfectly the shade of his eyes, a fine match for the dismal sky. Cropped close to his head, there was nothing for the wind to disarray. In silence he waited for her to notice him.

The woman froze as she finally caught sight of him, staring in confusion a moment before her eyes went wide, basket tumbling to the ground as she surged forward. "Is it? But it can't be…Gen? Is it really you, Gennady?" She halted just two feet from him, as if afraid to draw much closer.

"Ekaterina…"

"You bastard!" Closing the remaining space, she swung her arms out wildly, clipping him on the arms and chest as she continued to scream in rage, "Where were you? We needed you! He's dead, you bastard. Dead! Two years and you never came! We waited and waited! Where were you?" Her angry words filled the open field, a vocal parallel to the storm that was drawing ever closer. The wind whipped her braid over her shoulder, and it smacked her twice in the face before once again being pulled behind her.

Gennady did nothing as she railed and hit, grim faced as her fury ran its course. Finally she ceased, staring up at him in misery and lingering anger. Her face was pale as she began to speak in a more level tone, "Gen…where were you?"

"Taking care of things."

"That's not an answer. We needed you. We waited for you…and you never showed."

"I couldn't come. I wanted to."

"Wanting isn't good enough." Ekaterina snapped bitterly. "I want my brother to still be alive. My parents want their son. We wanted you at the funeral. We want to know why Yuri is dead."

"I'm sorry."

Tears streaming down her face, she again swung out wildly with her arms and slammed them once more against his chest. He made no sound of pain or protest, and she finally pulled away. "Sorry isn't good enough either!" Whirling around, she moved to snatch up her basket. Holding it close, she turned once again toward Gennady, darting around and past him, running down the path and then turning toward the graveyard. Gennady watched her go, then slowly turned around and continued on his way toward home.

The path continued on, gradually moving up hill. As he crested the rise and looked down, Gennady's dark gray eyes lightened slightly. Two small cottages stood in the center of a small field, only a few yards from one another.

Going to miss it?

Yes. You?

No way. I don't want to be a country boy. I'm tired of it. We belong to bigger and better things, Gen. Stop thinking small.

There's nothing wrong with small.

There's nothing wrong with big either. Now come on, wave goodbye one last time and then we have to go. Onward, toward fortune and glory! No time to waste!

When will we see it again?

Who cares? Not for a very long time, if we're lucky. Come on! Look excited, in just a few months you could finally be a Soldier.

You're right. It's good to be going.

Of course I'm right. Now, a kiss for luck and we're on our way!

Horses grazed a little ways off in the distance, and in the yards between the two homes a couple of men stood talking. One smoked a pipe, his movements slow and easy. The other's arms waved animatedly as he spoke, as if it was difficult for him to stand still. The man with the pipe laughed at something the second man said, tilting his head back in the same slow manner with which he smoked the pipe.

The faintest of smiles tinged Gennady's mouth as he watched them, a somber black and gray shadow on the hill. He stood there a minute or two more, before finally lifting and arm to wave back and forth until someone finally noticed him.

The man with the pipe caught the movement, and jumped in surprise to see a stranger on the hill. A heartbeat later he started running, as he realized it wasn't a stranger he was staring at, but his son. The more animated man remained where he was, but had gone oddly still. The front door of the left house crashed open as a woman came surging out of it. Not bothering to close the door behind her, the woman followed behind her husband. Despite her long skirts, she caught up to him quickly as they surged toward the hill where Gennady stood.

Smiling in relief and joy, he stood still a moment longer to watch them. Then slowly at first, but with increasing speed, Gennady rushed down the hill toward the parents he'd not seen for eight years.


Chapter Two

"Gen, Gen. Is it really you?" his short mother wrapped her strong, slender arms around his arm, burying her head in his chest and crying quietly. "We were so worried…"

"Shh, mama…I'm home." Wrapping his own arms around her shoulders, he rubbed her back awkwardly. He looked behind her, where his father stood quietly watching them. They looked at each other, young and old versions of the same face. His father examined him, nodding quietly. Gennady looked back down at his mother, "There now mama, you should be happy to see me."

"I am happy to see you, silly boy." Pulling back and wiping the tears from her face, the woman managed a watery smile. "But after Yuri…and then you never showed…we were so scared you would be the next one buried."

"I'm sorry mama, so very sorry."

"Explain later. You look exhausted." His father interrupted quietly. "Anushka…"

Anna nodded, "Come Gen, the Yabloka's will want to see you and then I've got a nice stew cooking. Later you can tell us everything."

"Thank you mama, papa."

"No thanks necessary," his father said gruffly, "We are happy to have you home."

"It's good to be home."

His mother looped her arm through his own, and gently tugged him down the hill and towards home. Behind them his father trailed calmly behind. Ahead of them two people slowly approached, waiting at the bottom. Another woman stood crying, the man beside her solemn and oddly still. "Gennady," he said quietly, "It's good to see you…"

The woman beside him stepped forward, embracing him much like his own mother had. Gennady's normally expressionless face cracked slightly as he tried in vain to sooth the crying woman. He stared at her husband, "Sasha…I…Katya…"

Aleksandr shook his head, exchanging a short look with Gennady's parents. He looked back at Gennady, "Katya is hurt and angry. We don't understand, but we know…we trust you would have come. If you could have."

"Would you have?"

Gennady tensed, face a picture of misery and self-loathing for one moment. "Of course I would have come, Klava. I wanted too so badly…"

The woman pulled away, and looked him in the face, examining him for several long seconds. Her face grew sad at whatever she saw there, "Thank you for saying so, Gen. I knew it…but I needed to hear it. Yuri always loved you best. It troubled us you never came. Katya is young, she cannot understand. I am sorry, Gen, that she was the first to welcome you home. We…we are happy to see that at least one of you came home safe and sound." Choking, Klavdiya began to cry again. Her husband pulled her close and began to soothe her, nodding to Gennady and his parents as he guided his wife to their home.

His mother once more took his arm, and led him toward his own home. She chattered quietly about people whom he'd once called friends, the crops in the village and how thankfully quiet business had been of late. At that Gennady looked up, turning to his father. He spoke quietly, "Papa, I visited his grave before coming home…it is beautiful work. The angel was stunning."

Faddei nodded in acknowledgement, slowly bringing his pipe back to his mouth. "I worked on it for quite some time. We used the excuse of the carving to wait for you to arrive before we held the ceremony."

"I'm sorry…"

"You needn't apologize to us. Now hand me those bags and that fancy cloak and let your mother feed you."

"Yes, come eat. You look terrible, Gen. Have you been taking care of yourself at all?

"Not really, mama."

"Then it's even better that you're home now. Sit. Eat."

"Yes, mama."



The fireplace crackled and snapped, making the achingly familiar cottage as warm and welcoming ad Gennady could have wished. His father sat in the same chair he'd been sitting in when his son had left home eight years ago, a little worse for wear but otherwise unchanged. Anna sat across him, knitting and humming, pausing occasionally to make sure her son was still eating or to refill his bowl. She seemed not to notice or care that he was growing full. Gennady smiled softly, and sighed quietly to himself.

Anna looked up, offering a smile of her own. "Do you need more to eat?"

"No, I am fine. It is good to be home."

"Yes, home has not been the same since you left."

"I missed it. Life as a Soldier…I enjoy it, but it is not home."

"So you did become a Soldier." Faddei said quietly from his place beside the fire. "And Yuri?"

Gennady shook his head, "Yuri…Yuri did other things. But we were always together."

"Are you finished now? With your soldiering?" His mom asked hesitantly.

Reluctantly he shook his head, nearly wincing as her face fell, "It's a job for life, mama. I'm on leave for a little while, but eventually I'll have to go back."

"How long?"

"Not for several months."

"Well at least I'll have my son back for a little while. Tell us what you did, as a Soldier. You look so grown, Gen. When you left you still looked so much like a baby, I always worried about you. You're so big now; it looks like you finally grew into your height."

"Anushka, the boy is about to fall asleep at the table. He can tell us everything in the morning. Gen, get to bed."

Gennady started to protest, but he let it die unspoken. Nodding briefly, he pushed away from the table and rose. Dropping a quick peck on his mother's cheek, nodding to his father, he turned and disappeared into his old bedroom.

Taking a deep breath as he shut the door behind, Gennady took in the room that seemed familiar and strange all at once. It was his, and it wasn't his. The bed seemed small now, hooks for his clothing simple, when he was now long used to a large wardrobe. Moving forward he lifted his heavy wool cloak from the bed, hanging it on one of the hooks. Something small and heavy clacked against the faded, wood wall and he turned the cloak to reveal the medallion he'd left pinned to it.

Unfastening it, he held it in the palm of his hand, staring. It was medium in size, round with a smooth edge. The image of a bird was carved into the burnished gold, with wings that seemed to be made of fire. A rose in full bloom was clutched in its beak. In the center of the bird's breast was a round red stone, dull and flat in the low light of a single lamp.

Promoted? Me? I've only been in the King's Army for three weeks.

Orders are orders, Soldier. Are you disobeying?

N, no sir. I'll go at once!

That's more like it. You're to join the Guard, so make doubly sure you obey orders the first time they're given.

Yes, sir!

Much better. Report to the palace. Ask for Captain Boleslav.

Yes, sir!

Setting the medallion beside the lamp on the old table at the foot of his bed, Gennady began to undress, first sitting down to unlace and remove his knee high boots, dropping them to the floor. Standing, he rapidly removed his uniform and hung it on a hook beside his cloak. The black and dark red ensemble seemed out of place in the humble room. Digging briefly through his travel bags, he drew out a worn but well made shirt and pants and slipped into them. His boots were retrieved from the floor and set neatly at the foot of his bed, his packs placed beside them.

Blowing out the lamp, he fell back into this bed and let out a sigh. Turning onto his side and facing the wall, Gennady shut his eyes and attempted to sleep.

You're not happy here, Gen. You should get out and see the world, before you decide to stay here for the rest of your life. Become a Soldier like you always wanted.

But I like it here, mama. With you and papa, and Yuri and Katya…"

"Gen, don't feel like you have to say that. I can see it in your face when the Soldiers visit in town."

"But…but who will take care of you and papa without me? What if you need my help?"

"Gen, don't be silly. Of course we will miss you sorely, but we managed just fine before we had you. We will do so again, until you come back. You are young; you should have fun before you settle into this quiet life. No one wants to spend all their youth in a little valley, carving gravestones and picking apples. I've heard you and Yuri talk about it before, in the shed at night."

"Mama!"

"Don't 'mama!' me. If you want to go, then I'm telling you that you may. Your father and I want what is best for you, and if that means letting you go out on your own then we will just have to miss you for a little while. Just promise me Gen, that you will come back to me."

"Of course I will! I'll come back, and I'll bring you all sorts of presents! And papa too!"

"That'll do then."

Quiet and unmoving even in sleep, Gennady stirred not a bit as the promised storm finally hit, tearing apart the silence of the little valley with echoing booms of thunder and blinding cracks of lightening. The house seemed to shake and shiver around him, the rain beating down adding to the cacophony of sound. If once or twice he muttered while he slept, the words were drowned out by the storm.