Story - Embrace, ch. 19 & Epilogue

[maderr]

Now I totally don't know what to do with myself.

Also, I doubt any story will ever write this fast again. Don't get used to it.

Let's hope I didn't botch it at the ver last. My brain, it is fried.

Marianthus

(chapter nineteen)

Aubrey tilted his head back, looking up at Ruthven, still behind him. "What in the hell are you talking about?"

Ruthven sighed, and looked down at him. "Five Regents, goes the legend, who chose to defend their lord and master at the cost of their own lives, simply so that he could wipe out all his people." His eyes flashed. "To hell with that. I have been alive for more than two hundred years, and I still do not believe my people are so despicable we deserve to be destroyed. Are humans any better? They do not drink blood, and they do not have my strange gifts – but they have other methods which can be just as cruel. No one wants to wipe them out."

He could think of nothing to say, taken aback by this bitterness he had never heard before.

Without even thinking, he reached up to touch Ruthven's cheek, soothed in his own way by the soft, warm skin. "Ruthven."

Strangely, Ruthven seemed startled by the touch. He reached up to capture Aubrey's hand, as though afraid Aubrey would change his mind and withdrew. He kissed the palm, then continued speaking.

"He told us his decision, that night over dinner, and could not understand why the five of us were so angry – I think he believed we really would follow him blindly. But unlike him, we were not ashamed of what we were. We spent more time in the real world than he, tending to the problems across the country while he stayed in his castle and bemoaned his fate." His lip curled in contempt. "I was his lover, it was true, but when we became lovers he was quite different. At that point in time, we were growing apart, and I was not terribly sorry for it. It was around that time people had taken to calling me the Consort, and it amused him enough to let the title stand."

"I cannot believe you're more than two hundred years old," Aubrey murmured. "How is that possible?"

"There were ten of us, at the start, who had the power and the longevity. Two killed themselves, for reasons long since lost. Two others were slain. Those four were reclusive. Six of us chose to stand in the light, and rule, and accept the risks that brought. The one they eventually began to call the Prince started out a fine leader, but he let the words of humans get to him, convince him he was a monster, and nothing we said could change his mind. He believed it so much, the people began to believe it – or at least many of them did. Even our powers could not sway their minds."

Ruthven sighed, looking down at Aubrey again. "The agreement was all but made, and we decided it was not to be bourn. So I waited until we went to bed, and let him have his way with me, and when he was sated and asleep I fed upon him. By the time he woke enough to realize something was wrong, it was too late to do more than struggle feebly. That's why my eyes the way they are, you know."

"They're like that because you killed him?" Aubrey asked.

"Because I fed upon one of my own," Ruthven said. "It's a stigma, or was, once. It's not unlike cannibalism, after all. I took his blood, his life, and gained all his power in addition to what I already possessed – it was the best and surest way to kill him, but I took no pleasure in i. No vampire that knew my eyes would have anything to do with me, save those four who stood with me, and knew my intentions that night."

Aubrey freed his hand and sat up just enough to turn around in his seat, frowning in confusion. "They're dead now, though, right? The other Regents?"

Ruthven laughed. "Hardly. After I killed him, Tepes stepped forward to assume control, and said we chose enslavement over death. Not long after that, the five of us made certain we were largely forgotten, and scattered to the winds. We have traveled since, always keeping an eye on our people, ensuring that we are as well as we can be."

"There's four more of you out there?" Aubrey demanded.

"Yes, master," Ruthven replied, laughing again. "It is one of them whom I thought would be able to play escort to your sister. I believe Varney is not too far from here."

Sangre snorted. "If you think I am letting my daughter roam foreign lands alone with a vampire who is probably at least as wily as you—I have more sense than that, thank you."

Ruthven grinned. "He would bring suitable female companionship, of course. She would be properly chaperoned." He paused a moment. "There would be no challenge otherwise?"

"I am not amused," Sangre said darkly.

"Oh, please, papa," Carmilla pleaded. "Ruthven would never do anything to hurt Aubrey, which means he would never harm me. Look at all he's done for us. Please, papa?"

Sangre heaved an aggrieved sigh.

"I think she will be safe enough, darling," Elisabeth said, smiling at Carmilla, then looking up at Sangre. "Come now, you are hardly one to moralize."

"I damn well am when it's my daughter," Sangre growled, but sat back in defeat. "Fine," he said, "summon your friend. But if he does not meet with my approval, this entire ridiculous affair is over." He pointed at Ruthven. "You are a born troublemaker."

Ruthven smiled. "So I oft am told, though this is the most trouble I've caused in decades."

Aubrey shook his head. "You cannot truly be that old. It makes even less sense that you are here – I do not believe for a moment that Gille picked you out. Why are you here?"

The levity on Ruthven's face faded, replaced by a terrible sadness. "A little over a decade ago, I heard many rumors about three people who were making great gains in the freeing of Pets. We dare not let it happen, and so I set out to persuade the three to quiet their efforts. I wanted to explain to them why we had done what we had, and why it should remain so, at least for the time being."

He looked at Sangre. "I arrived too late. The day I arrived here, a funeral was taking place for two of the three with whom I'd wanted to speak."

Sangre's eyes widened. "I remember—but I have never recalled your face before. You said you were a supporter, who had only recently arrived in town, and was sorry to have arrived at so awful a time. Why have I never remembered all of this before?"

Ruthven looked away, his eyes landing on Aubrey. "I have been alive a long time, and done things in that time that will never cease to haunt me. The Prince was not the only vampire I killed, nor the only one I fed upon. There will probably be others, for it is my duty to help control the Pets, until three hundred years have passed and the arrangement can be renegotiated. That day, after I spoke with your father, I saw you. You were a very pretty child, Brey, and quiet sweet." He smirked. "I guess the temper came later."

"Che," Sangre said, but said nothing more when Aubrey glared at him.

"You made me smile, and that was something I had not done in longer than I cared to count. I left a few days later, but always kept tabs on your family. More than once, during my work, I saw you in a bookshop, or a café, or racing down the street to your classes." He smiled. "When I learned by chance, checking on the Pets still waiting to be purchased, that someone was seeking a Pet for you…I could not resist the impulse, or did not. Every time I saw you, I woke just a little bit more. It's good to feel alive again, and you alone are the reason for that, master."

Aubrey could only stare.

"I think he's redder than your hair, Carrot," Gille said drolly.

"You be quiet," Aubrey hissed, turning redder still.

Sangre glowered. "If your friend is even half so smooth a talker, Carmilla is going nowhere."

Carmilla rolled her eyes, then giggled at her brother.

"Ruthven," he finally managed. He shook his head. "You really should just stop calling me master. Honestly."

"You are my master," Ruthven said, and kissed him briefly. "Are there any more questions, or may I be allowed to put the past where it belongs?"

"What are these powers you keep mentioning?" Sangre asked.

Ruthven grimaced. "Many and varied, and I seldom bother to use them anymore. I can manipulate minds, to some degree. The way I transferred blood from Aubrey to Gille is not something most vampires can do – it is harder than you might think. There are other things, most of them listed in the various myths. Using them requires a great deal of energy, and the only way to restore it is to rest – which you have seen me do twice now – or drink vast quantities of blood. I prefer not to use them."

"We are so talking about this 'manipulate minds' later," Aubrey muttered.

"Yes, master," Ruthven replied, smirking.

Aubrey made a face at him, then turned around and dropped back down into his seat. "So I have a two hundred year old vampire with magic powers for a Pet. Gille – you are never allowed to pick out Pets, again."

"Apparently I did not pick him," Gille said dryly. "Tell your Pet to stay out of my head."

"Where do your powers come from?" Stregoni asked.

Ruthven shrugged. "I could not say. There were ten of us, in the beginning, but I remember little of those early days. Our powers were never passed down, I could not say why. When the five us finally die, one way or the other, all the powers will die with us. I am not the only one who prefers not to use them. They have always been more burden than blessing."

"Intriguing," Sangre said pensively, then shook his head. "It is a matter for another day, however. At the moment, it is nearly three in the morning. I think it's long past time we all found our beds."

Stregoni yawned. "It sounds a fine plan to me. Anything requiring thought can wait until the morning. Coming, Gille?"

"If I must," Gille groused, but did not protest when Stregoni tugged him from the couch, and kept hold of his hand as they left the room.

Sangre held his arm out to Elisabeth, who gathered up her skirts and reached up to kiss his cheek. "Come, Carmilla, we will walk you to your room." He slowed as they passed Aubrey and Ruthven. "Thank you, Ruthven, for everything."

"My pleasure, my lord," Ruthven said, bowing his head.

"Good night, to you both."

Aubrey smiled faintly. "Good night, father. Milla, Elisabeth, pleasant dreams."

A moment later he was left alone in the study with Ruthven. Yawning, he leaned his head back against the chair and closed his eyes, enjoying the warmth of the fire and the lingering scent of forget-me-nots that permeated the place, probably the remnants of someone's perfume.

He opened his eyes as arms slid around his waist, a weight settling on his lap. He looked down to see Ruthven's head in his lap, looking weary and somewhat sad.

"I’m sorry we pressed you," he said quietly. "I guess I should learn to keep my nosiness to myself."

Ruthven moved in a way that suggested he was trying to shrug. "It would have come up, eventually – if only because at some point it would have been noted that I'm not aging."

"So you'll be young when I get old?" Aubrey asked.

"That is a discussion for another time, master," Ruthven replied, "if that is all right with you."

"Of course," Aubrey said, yawning again. "I really don't want to think about anything, least of all the fact that I seem to be attached to a vampire who is over two hundred years old. It's positively…incomprehensible."

Ruthven looked up, dark eyes as unfathomable as ever. "Is it really so awful, master?"

"I never said you were awful," Aubrey snapped.

"Not in so many words. If I am a trial, I will go…"

"Of course you're a trial," Aubrey said, tugging at Ruthven's hair in irritation. "You play at being submissive and it drives me crazy. You call me master even though we both know I'm not. You're impertinent and bold and take entirely too many liberties when told expressly not, you're entirely too clever for anyone's peace of mind, least of all mine—" He coughed, throat suddenly going tight. "Of course you're a trial, and you thrill at being so. But the idea of you leaving is unbearable, so I guess I shall simply have to learn to deal with you."

Ruthven lowered his lashes, and looked up through them, the submissive gesture completely ruined by the satisfied smirk on his face. "I'm certain, master, that I could find ways to make my presence more bearable."

"I've no doubt you could," Aubrey muttered, refusing to look at him and give in. "You're such a brat."

Soft laughter washed over his cheek, tickled his ear, and Aubrey turned back to make it stop, even knowing what was coming – and could not muster even a token protest as Ruthven kissed him, but sank his hand into Ruthven's hair, holding tightly as he gave back as good as he got.

"I still don’t understand why you call me master, of all people," he said when they finally broke apart, unable to reconcile all he'd learned about Ruthven with the fact that Ruthven so obviously wanted him.

Ruthven scraped his teeth across Aubrey's throat, making his shudder. "I killed my lover to save my people, and bear a stigma of which I will never be rid," Ruthven said. "I survive that night, but felt as though I were dead. Something about you made me feel like living again, master. "

He yelped in surprise as Ruthven grabbed him and hauled him down to the floor. "Though, it does not hurt that you take so well to the bites. You are well-suited, master, to a vampire's embrace."

"Whatever," Aubrey muttered, grabbing the lapels of Ruthven's jacket. "I really don't care about any embrace but yours, so shut up already, unless you really want to keep talking."

"I live to serve, master," Ruthven said, and did not give Aubrey a chance to voice his scathing reply.

Larkspur

(epilogue)

"Brey! Stop being such a lay-about!"

Aubrey opened one eye and scowled at his sister. "What's the bloody point of a picnic if I can't be insufferably lazy? You want to run around in this heat, by all means. I am staying right here to wallow in sloth."

"You!" Carmilla said, and kicked him lightly one last time before running off to play badminton with Elisabeth.

Soft chuckles from nearby stirred him just as he was slipping back into a light doze. "You are being awfully lazy today, master."

Aubrey turned to look at Ruthven, who was determined to make him commit yet another sin, dressed only in a white lawn shirt and pale green collar embroidered with apples.

He closed his eyes again. "So says the man who kept me up all night."

"I did not hear any complaints," Ruthven said, more than a little smugness in his voice.

Aubrey did not deign to give him the satisfaction of a reply.

Instead he simply listened to his sister and Elisabeth, the occasionally called advice or gentle taunt from his father, the more distant voices of Gille and Stregoni, who had wandered away to go fishing, off all things.

"Is there any wine left?" he asked.

"Could you be bothered to get it if there was, master?" Ruthven asked.

Aubrey would have rolled his eyes, but that required opening them. "It is entirely too hot to be impertinent."

"I rather like the heat."

"You're insufferable."

Ruthven laughed, then fell silent.

Aubrey yawned and rolled over onto his stomach, wishing the shade offered by the tree they were beneath were a bit more expansive. He cracked his eyes open to look at Ruthven, flushing when he realized Ruthven had been staring at him all the while. "What?" he asked.

"The sunlight suits you, master," Ruthven said – then smirked. "Even if it does make you as lazy as a cat."

"Shut up," Aubrey muttered, and pointedly turned away to face the other way, watching Stregoni and Gille at the pond a little distance away. It looked as though they had about as much interest in fishing as he did in moving.

Snorting, he turned to face Ruthven again. "I might be as lazy as a cat," he said, "but you looked like you helped yourself to the mistress' canaries."

"Merely enjoying the view, master."

"Brat," Aubrey said, and closed his eyes again, too hot and sleepy to muster the energy for a sharper retort.

The sound of a footman's voice did stir him though, and he dragged himself to a sitting position as he watched the footman talk to his father.

A moment later, Sangre beckoned to him.

As he drew close, he realized that Carmilla looked too excited too contain herself.

"What is it, father?" he asked.

Sangre looked at Ruthven, who stared blandly back. "It would seem a sudden guest has arrived, claiming to be a friend of a certain Pet on the premises."

"Hmm," Ruthven said idly. "I did not expect him for a couple of days yet."

"Liar," Aubrey muttered beneath his breath, but was given no chance to say anything further as a man drew close, escorted by another footman.

No way, Aubrey decided, sharing a look with his father. No way in hell was he taking Carmilla anywhere – least of all out of their sight.

He had long blonde hair, pale enough it was almost white, neatly pulled back by a red silk ribbon. His waistcoat was also red, entirely too bright and flashy for Aubrey's taste. His eyes were a pale blue, almost more gray, really. He was also more than a little bit handsome – almost pretty, in fact, and at least as tall as Ruthven.

Carmilla, he decided, was staring inappropriately. Non too gently tugging his sister back, he stepped forward. "You are Ruthven's friend?"

"Yes," the man said, smiling in a way that showed he did, indeed, have fangs. "My name is Varney. It is an honor to meet all of you." He swept into a deep bow, then glanced up at Carmilla, holding out his hand. "I believe you are the fair princess I have been asked to show the world?"

Carmilla put her hand in his, cheeks going pink when he kissed her knuckles.

"Unhand my daughter at once," Sangre said sharply.

"Oh, papa," Carmilla said with a sigh. "Do not start growling."

"I will growl all I like," Sangre said.

Carmilla exchanged a look with Elisabeth, who placed a placating hand on his arm. "Dear, it's far too lovely a day to start picking fights." She looked at Varney. "You were, I believe, to bring a proper chaperone for her ladyship?"

"Yes, my lady," Varney replied. "She follows in a carriage, and should be arriving within the hour. She is, technically speaking, my master. I have been her Pet for twenty years. A very sweet woman, and you will be happy to know she relishes putting me in my place. Alas, she is far too good at it." He smiled, making Carmilla and Elisabeth laugh.

Aubrey shared another look with his father, and another with Gille as he and Stregoni at last joined them.

Before they could start in on the man, however, Elisabeth clapped her hands briskly. "Well, then, I say we all sit down and get to know one another in civilized fashion. Shall we return to the house, darling, or continue to enjoy the fine weather?"

"The weather," Sangre said, and gave her his arm to lead her back to the blanket, though he did not completely abandon glaring at Varney.

Who offered his arm to Carmilla.

Aubrey ignored the amused looks Ruthven was shooting him, and lead the way back to the three, and the large blanket upon which he'd been so recently napping.

From the warning glint in his sister's eye, he suspected they were going to lose the battle to keep her from going off with Varney and this supposed chaperone on her way – but they could have fun trying, and making certain the man was fit to take away his sister.

"Aren't you sitting just a little too close?" Gille demanded, glaring at Carmilla, who had chosen to sit next to her potential guide.

"No," Carmilla said airily. "No worse than you and Stregoni at the fishing hole."

"That was entirely different," Gille snapped.

Stregoni laughed and dragged the picnic basket close, coming up with a bottle of wine, which he quickly decanted, passing the glasses around until everyone had one. "Come now, it's bad for the health to bicker this early in the day. Just look at what it did to poor Aubrey – he cannot even stay awake."

Aubrey rolled his eyes, but obediently lifted his glass as Stregoni did.

"To new friends," Stregoni said, elbowing Gille to raise his own glass, "and best wishes to Carmilla, when she leaves on her travels."

"She's not going with him," said Aubrey, in unison with his father and Gille.

"Are they always like this?" Varney asked, amused.

"Always," said Carmilla, in unison with Elisabeth, Ruthven, and Stregoni.

Aubrey rolled his eyes, but laughed along with everyone else.