Subject: Second Interlude--Nocturne #1 (1/1) Date: Tue, 3 Dec 2002 15:30:27 -0800 From: Daomir Darkfell To: FKFIC-L@LISTS.PSU.EDU Characters: LaCroix, Miranda Author's Note: This interlude takes place immediately following "Crossroads of Time." I decided that LaCroix and Miranda needed some time to get to know each other better, from the rest of the Family. All praise is gratefully, if not humbly, accepted. All flames will be tossed into Lake Champlain. Once complete, this will be archived with the rest of the series at http://www.geocities.com/runeshard/fkficindex.html Permission to archive given to the FKFIC site, the FKFIC2 site, and the FTP site. All others must first bribe me with the usual. You know the drill, spiced wine, chocolate, clouds of white roses, et cetera, et cetera. Second Interlude--Nocturne #1 (1/1) Valentine's Eve, 1997 Carefully cradling his precious cargo, Lucien LaCroix landed in the living room of his apartment above the Raven. The young woman, Miranda Thorn--little more than a girl, truly--had not woken during their short flight from Kai's home at the Corvina, despite the bitter wind that was whipping through Toronto. She was still sleeping deeply in his arms. Her dark blond head was burrowed into his chest, and one hand had crept up to rest trustingly over LaCroix's heart. Her scent of white roses--LaCroix hadn't thought that white roses smelled any differently from red--mixed enticingly with heather and a touch of cinnamon, enveloped him. It... intoxicated his senses. LaCroix sat back in his couch and, with frigid lips, painted kisses from the crown of Miranda's head to the top of her left ear. It had been surprisingly easy, he reflected, to stop thinking of the woman in his arms as Fleur de Brabant. Or rather, as just Fleur. Miranda was a part of Fleur... or Fleur was a part of Miranda, LaCroix wasn't sure which was the correct sequence of personalities. <> "I've never been able to figure that out either." Miranda looked up at her... what was Lucien to her, exactly? "I wouldn't put him past cheating though; his clothes are probably flame-retardant." "That's not cheating, that's being sensible." Miranda sat up and discovered that she was in LaCroix's lap... in a living room? "Is this your home?" "Yes. It is also yours, now. You seem surprised." "My father?" "Kai has given his blessing." LaCroix brushed the backs of his fingers against her cheek. Miranda raised her hand to grasp his. "Every night for six weeks, you've come to see me. And I still can't believe that you are real, that you're not the dream you've been for my entire life." She smiled lopsidedly. "My impossible dream... You're crying." "Mere tears of relief," said LaCroix dismissively. "We seem to be feeling the same doubt." He put his hands on her shoulders, with a knowing smile, asked "What can I do to convince you?" Miranda's own expression was resolute. "Bring me across." Yellow eyes shining, LaCroix kissed her deeply. The feel of her mouth against his for the first time in eight hundred years-- He lifted her up and carried her into his bedroom, laying her gently on his own bed. LaCroix caught her hand as it fell from his heart, and brought her wrist to his mouth. With the greatest delicacy, the tips of LaCroix's fangs pierced the thin flesh, and a warm rush of nectar filled his waiting mouth. Miranda arched, as LaCroix sipped slowly from her wrist, savoring her scent, her taste, every cell and memory. Soon he would move to her throat and make her his completely-- But he found himself stopping after the first few mouthfuls. LaCroix blinked, licking his lips in confusion. Miranda was unconscious against his pillows--from ecstasy, not from blood loss--and a sudden draft of cold permeated the link, now strengthened by the new blood. With barely a thought, LaCroix slid out of his coat and lay down beside her, wrapping Miranda in his arms. *** She started awake. For a split second, Miranda had no idea where she was or who she was with, and a wordless cry of panic escaped her throat. "Hush." A cool pair of lips brushed over the crown of her head. Miranda sighed, the tight cords of muscle relaxed, and she collapsed even further into LaCroix's embrace. Idly, LaCroix noticed that their legs had somehow become entangled as she slept and he drowsed. It hadn't been all that long of a nap, but he felt strangely relaxed and... peaceful. He could not recall ever feeling so at peace. "Why did you stop?" LaCroix reveled in the sound of her voice for a moment. "I don't know," he admitted. "I was going to do as you wished but... I couldn't. Absurd as it sounds, it didn't seem... right." Miranda just nodded against his shirt. She had a vague, half-conscious desire to remove it, but was too sleepy to act on the thought. "Maybe it's not right, right now..." "Kai never mentioned this." "He doesn't always see everything," she murmured. "And sometimes he sees too much. Time's fluid." LaCroix looked at his companion with some surprise. "You do not also possess Kai's precognitive ability, do you?" Miranda snorted sleepily, still experiencing a form of afterglow from LaCroix's sipping. "Goddess, no!" "'Goddess'?" "My mother was a Pagan, she raised me in the same tradition. Kai's technically Catholic, but it's a bit difficult to be Catholic in Black Falls. Bit dangerous, too." Her hair called to him, so LaCroix tangled his hands in it. "It sounds like a fascinating place... for one of my people." He held her closely. "Miranda. In your blood, there is a subdued... but tremendous anger... and grief, directed at your father..." LaCroix trailed off when Miranda stiffened in his embrace, now fully awake. "Would you rather I not ask you this tonight?" "Just... ask carefully." She sounded as though she was trying not to weep. LaCroix asked in the only way he knew how. "Did Kai kill your mother?" "I... don't know. I don't know. I just... I know he feels responsible. He just kept saying over and over, 'It's my fault, it's my fault.' It was the only time he really spoke of her death, how she died. I was eleven. What else was I supposed to think? I don't think I spoke to him for six months." "How did she die?" "She was... to death, for lack of a better explanation. There wasn't much left to bury, or so I was told. I was five when she died, I wasn't allowed to see her." Her quiet tears were soaking through LaCroix's shirt, but he let her cry. "Her name was Diana." "Did she know?" "About Fleur?" Miranda shook her head. "No. The memories didn't come back until after she was dead. I think... I think her death triggered the memories. Dad was sick for... weeks afterward. It was almost three months before he could walk again. He knew what my 'daydreams' were, but he never told me." "He wanted to protect you," murmured LaCroix, remembering Daniel and Alexei. And Nicholas. "For as long as he could." Miranda chuckled. "And now he's turned that job over to you." "And I shall carry it out to the best of my abilities." LaCroix's smile was twisted but sincere. "For as long as we both shall live." He pressed a fervent kiss to the pulse in her throat. The impossible dream had come true. ~Finis - December 3rd, 2002~ April French daomir_darkfell@yahoo.com ===== "And we shall exist by amusing ourselves, by dreaming of monstrous loves and fantastic universes, by complaining and quarreling with the pretenses of the world..." --"The Flash of Lightening" by Arthur Rimbaud __________________________________________________ Do you Yahoo!? Yahoo! Mail Plus - Powerful. Affordable. Sign up now. http://mailplus.yahoo.com