Am I the history I have endured?

The air was heavy with atmosphere and tension, Philippe felt the full weight of his responsibility, one of those moments where the was only a wrong choice and a lot of disappointment no matter what he ruled. They both dressed well, Baldwin always presented himself well and if they wished to judge him, they ought to look at him at his full potential not the tired jaded man that had travelled through back roads for two weeks to keep a young vampire safe.

Baldwin was not afraid to address the assembled family after his accusation of disobedience was laid out, how much they looked like a council around the semi circled table. "Every day you trust me to serve in your name. Commanding the town's guard, patrolling, I am the sword that serves your judgement and the shield that keeps your home and family safe. You once told me that I proved myself when I brought you your most dangerous enemy on his knees in surrender despite the fact you commanded his assassination. I served you loyally for 12 centuries." Excluding those three centuries were it seemed that they would be enemies instead. He looked at Matthew but said nothing further as it was done and buried. "I was chosen as your heir because you understood the importance of politics. You wanted your son to not be blind to the nuances of command. You taught me to be merciful when hope was dim. That times come where to choose to be kind it to choose to not be just. Have I ever acted on impulse? On pure emotion? Have you ever had doubt on my battlefield judgement?" he asked and looked at his family. Emotion had gotten the better of him when it came to Matthew being allowed to stay...but Baldwin tended to be known as the sort of man that had uncharacteristic clarity in battle.

"To send him to walk to his freedom alone was to condemn him to death. So, like my father taught me, I chose mercy. Judge me as you will, exile me if you must but I didn't act on grief. I saw a vampire that still served purpose. Judge me harshly if you must but don't patronize me of acting out of grief."

"Can you say that your judgement was unclouded by grief?"

"Burdened by duty...unclouded by grief." Baldwin answered honestly and not once did his voice falter. "You needed something that the other houses would rally behind. Individuals can be divided and conquered-" Baldwin had paced and stepped behind Amadeo putting his hands on his shoulders. "But symbols endure. When the victim becomes the victorious they adopt a banner."

They would never exile him for this, it served as a lesson though across the board on impulsivity.

"Amadeo, step forward child." Philippe's voice commanding but regal in it's softness as Baldwin took his place on the empty chair. How much they looked like a war council behind their Patriarch. "Men can make impassionate speeches on your behalf. We name you a friend to our house and grieve with you your loss" He means it, it is genuine. The loss not only of a father but all his brothers is something that they all feel. The loss of Hugh still an open wound. "Convince us we are stronger with you than without you" Pleading and emotion had it's place but not here. What did he bring to them. When the choice was difficult, he had a family to rely on to carry the burden.

They would listen, they had spoken about Amadeo's utility before and after Amadeo presented his case, by order of seniority they would speak, I consent or do not consent. Baldwin of course did, the next to speak might surprise Amadeo as Philippe's wife consented and Matthew's look to her said the surprise, how her eyes said the whole story, consent. The tide rose and one sandbag could not stop it.

It was either unanimous or not at all but to oppose Baldwin was to invite further ire. A favour then. But he best remember it. One by one they spoke their consent to their Patriarch.

Philippe walked to stand in front of Amadeo rather than remain on his seat. "It is decided then. On the new moon you will make your vows and do so freely and unafraid knowing you disinherit all other claims on your name. Bury your father, mourn your brothers. Your family (meaning them) will not be pawns on your chess game of revenge. I will hear no further pleas for war. I will decide how the man responsible for your father's death answers for it. You speak your vows you forfeit the right to vengeance and answer to the duty of what is righteous and just. You will be summoned to discuss it when the time is right. Adjourned" he would place his hand on his shoulder and looked at Baldwin a stern knowing look and took his leave.

Only when everyone else left the war room did Baldwin finally exhale and pull Amadeo into his arms. "We will find a way to turn his ear to our cause." he spoke rubbing Amadeo's back. "Two steps forward but one step back is still a small step but forward." He understood it, he understood why a formal declaration of war would not come, not right now, not because of this.

The day of the trial has come faster than expected. And Amadeo followed Baldwin’s orders to dress up well and to get his hair done properly. Now, Amadeo stood straight next to his new father in his best posture, well dressed and his mind tightly closed. And he could feel the velvet-like strokes on his mind as Baldwin spoke. Amadeo couldn’t tell which one of the family members tried to pry into his mind, but he could feel that one or some tried to be subtle about it. But Amadeo stood his ground. His walls had gotten stronger since he was here. In Rome, he practiced his skills for survival, but in Sept Tours, he trained his skills for acceptance and to make Baldwin proud. Amadeo wanted to become useful, and despite all the training in combat and swordfighting, Amadeo knew that his biggest weapon was his mind. And Baldwin practiced that with him too.

For a split second, Amadeo broke eye contact to look over his shoulder at Baldwin. With the soothing hands on his shoulders, he turned his head back to look at the council. All muscles in the body of the young vampire were tense, and his tension only increased when his father left to sit on the empty chair, and Philippe’s strong voice echoed through the room. Without any sign of fear or hesitation, Amadeo stepped forward as he had been told to. He stopped at a respectful distance and kept his amber-coloured eyes on the Patriarch. Only when he was told to convince the council of his strength, Amadeo bowed his head a little bit.

❝First of all, I want to thank you, Sieur, and your family for the hospitality and the trust you put into me for allowing me to stay in your lovely home for these ten days. And I do hope that I didn’t interrupt someone’s peace. If I did, I apologize.❞ For a split second, he looked over to Matthew, who always seemed apprehensive about him, but maybe it was not directed toward Amadeo but Baldwin. This was something the fledgling couldn’t know. ❝My Maker did not teach me how to fight; he did not teach me war. He was a scholar, and so I came here to this place with the education of a scholar. No words of mine can convince you of my strengths and the worth to the family. I can tell you now that I never lacked the will to survive and that I never lacked loyalty, but what do words matter when I can just lie through my teeth to get a place here I might not even deserve. I will not beg or plead; I will give you all something else to base your decision on, something I cannot lie about.❞  

Amadeo focused on Philippe’s eyes. And suddenly, Amadeo’s pupils dilated and swallowed his orange-amber colour. He could feel the pressing urge of some of the family members to protect their patriarch. Even though it was no more than the flinch of a muscle, Amadeo grasped the hooks he could find and forced the family members to stay seated. Even if they wanted to pounce at him to stop him, they wouldn’t be able to do so. For mere seconds, he looked at them, then his gaze lingered on Philippe again. The Patriarch was ancient and powerful. Amadeo had never seen someone as old as him, and the hook to his mind was almost non-existent. There was a tiny one, almost invisible, but Amadeo could feel it. His mind grasped onto the very fragile little hook and within a mere second, he pulled Philippe’s mind into his own. He wouldn’t invade Philippe’s mind; there wasn’t even an attempt to do so. Amadeo let Philippe into his most vulnerable region of himself. The walls around Amadeo’s mind were still up so that no other family member could see the things he was now showing the Patriarch. Amadeo brought Philippe to his twelve-year-old mortal self. Arun, who was sold to slavers on a ship. Physically abused, prepared to be a body slave. He showed Philippe the fragments of his three-year torture, shipped and sold from one pleasure house to the other, abused by more men than the mortal mind could count. Young Arun seemed to disassociate, refused to speak, but the boy never cried. He brought Philippe to Venice when Marius came to the Venetian brothel where the young Arun had refused to eat for days, but his body fought hard for survival. He showed Philippe the family he once had, the fatal fever the boy now called Amadeo suffered, and how his body once again refused to die and healed when Marius giving him vampiric blood to overcome this sickness. Happiness lasted for a couple of years until a reckless affair with a red-haired Earl of Harlech, who, in his obsession to get Amadeo to himself, slaughtered two innocent children in the Palazzo. Amadeo, who got himself between the raging Lord and his innocent brothers, fought a man much taller and broader than him. Amadeo got injured by daggers. A deep cut on his cheek was the most prominent. Amadeo let Philippe feel the pain; he let the Patriarch see how he won the swordfight against the Lord with a strong will to protect his family. And with that, the rest of his story followed: the poison that killed his body, his turning, the few months of being a newborn vampire, the invasion of the Roman coven, his attempts to fight and protect his family just to be thrown into the fire with them, his abduction and the torture and starvation in Rome. Philippe saw the incident of a vampire throwing the ashes of innocent children in Amadeo’s face and how Amadeo ripped the head off so swiftly. He saw Santino and his rat-whispering abilities, the underground coven; he saw everything Amadeo saw until Baldwin rescued him. Philippe even saw their first few nights together before Amadeo let go of the hook and guided Philippe’s mind out of his own. At the same time, he released the grasp on some other family members and his eyes got back to normal. Keeping vampires so much older than him on their seats by force and leading Philippe through his mind has taken a toll on Amadeo’s strength, but he still stood tall and straight.

❝I have no secrets from you anymore, Sieur. This is me with all my strength, flaws, and wrongdoings. But I do swear that my loyalty to family has never wavered. And I give my life to protect those I swear loyalty to. No matter which decision you will rule out, I will accept and bow my head. And yet, I will never regret showing you everything and putting my trust in you. Because I know, Sieur, your verdict will be made for your family. ❞ 

After saying those words, he remained silent so the family could speak their verdict. Amadeo’s eyes moved from Baldwin to Philippe’s wife. Ysabeau’s verdict surprised him even though he didn’t show it, but with Matthew’s consent, Amadeo couldn’t quite hide the surprise in his eyes. One by one, they consented, and by the end Philippe stood in front of Amadeo.

❝Yes, Sieur. I will obey your orders. My life is dedicated to keeping the family safe. Thank you, Sieur.❞ Amadeo bowed his head politely, but he kept his strength until everyone but Baldwin had left. This was when all the tension fell from his shoulders. He nearly ran over to Baldwin and crashed into him. Amadeo held onto Baldwin’s garments while his knees started trembling a little. He strained his body, and now that tension was gone, he could feel it. His head was throbbing, and a small trail of blood ran out of his left nostril, but it didn’t matter.

❝Thank you, father. For now, I am just relieved that I am allowed to stay and that I did not bring shame and disappointment to your doorstep. I was certain that Matthew does not want me here and that some of the others will follow him.❞ Amadeo sighed softly and quickly told Baldwin what he did when all the others only watched Amadeo staring down Philippe with black eyes. ❝I was worried I couldn't show him my mind in private. But I’m glad it worked.❞ Amadeo wiped his nose with the back of his hand and smiled up at Baldwin. He felt so dizzy. His head felt like exploding but he wanted to keep it together. ❝I vow to you that from now on, I will officially be your obedient son. I want to make you proud. You risked it all for me.❞  

"It was in April. But I am stuck using chartered helicopters now- it was fine. We were all fine but I have to await salvage for the insurance to pay out and it's a whole tax thing that just buying a new one before hand would screw me over-luxury taxes in Europe...but I choose to stay. It sounds worse than it was, the pilot was good, he braced us for emergency landing. He of course had heard Amadeo's pondering but he would not address it until Amadeo brought it up.

"It's my favourite flower" The Edelweiss that grew only in extraordinary heights on mountains and cliffs were most blossoms refused to bloom."Devotion earned through danger, it used to be a symbol of courage. A beauty that survives where nothing soft should survive. Blue thistle for defence, resilience and intellectual sharpness. Your wish to be a thorn reframed, a blood that protects itself. A flower with edges and prepared to use them much like you. And white hellebore used to be a symbol of truth by inquisitors. Truth, danger and the courage to ask forbidden questions. In my days, they brewed potions with it's poison to extract the truth from the delirious. And the black calla lily because I thought it added dark sensuality to a light coloured bouquet" The rosemary hidden in the Edelweiss, a symbol of memory. Maybe that he won't forget what he finds interesting, maybe something much more of a statement.

"But perhaps teach me what they mean to you. I wanted to give you a bouquet that is not beauty but recognition. Wild, beautiful flowers that grow resilient where orchids and roses would not thrive." the vampire stroked the back of Amadeo's head having missed his curls. So many bouncing beautiful curls. "I missed you too, no one dared to debate with me. And arguing about Homer and Hesiod over text lacked the zest." One wrote epic tales of heroes and one wrote about the common man but were they not called the twin pillars of Greek poetry? Together?

"You are not easy to read but I see you.I think I am starting to see you, the man behind the practised image. Or maybe it's not about you at all and it's about me." Maybe he did pour his soul into a message just to see if Amadeo would see him in return.

"I will admit I have been very taken by you. And that doesn't happen. I am relieved you came, delighted even but relieved. I would have been a big boy about it if it was just a once and done...but I would be lying if I said I had not thought there was more to explore. There's something about you, I can't put my finger on. Maybe you disrupted my peace just like you promised." he mused stroking hair behind Amadeo's ears to admire how beautiful he was. He was one of the most beautiful young men he had ever seen.

"I'm sure many gift you flowers that look gorgeous but you are not the sort of man to be taken in by gorgeous if it's not followed by something....humbling. You will wear the jewels as a status symbol but it's not the jewels. It's the reminder that a man that does not kneel humbled himself in remorse for making you wait-" Or maybe he just hoped it was the case.

"This is a gift from Jean-Marc of Berlutti. A close personal friend of mine-" Client. "-I might have slipped and admitted I was...going to be accompanied by you in a moment of enthusiasm. He's very discreet- won't tell a soul." Not like they were hiding seeing as they would attend the F1 together. "I must have sounded besotted for him to put a bag together for you. Or maybe he was hoping you would wear them, I told him, you charge to represent brands and he can afford your fees. But that I would give them to you anyway." Berluti Alessandro in Nero Grigio Patina, a leather belt and a pocket square of Black Silk Organza.

"This I want you to take back to Venice for your brothers." Midnight Blue Vicuña scarves, the rarest wool in the world. "And the third bag...you will get on Sunday evening. Come, let's sit outside and toast your arrival" Just to stand outside on the balcony in one of the most opulent cities in the world together.

"May I?" Baldwin asked taking the Cartier box offering to fasten the bracelet for him.

"We should get ready for dinner soon-but first" A kiss on the balcony and a very visible Do Not Disturb setting turned on his phone as to commit that he was now Amadeo's for the rest of the night. "Have you ever visited Monaco before? I can admire it for a vacation but...a short vacation."

"It's a pressure cooker of wealth, influence and power. Everyone important in one square mile, everyone is watching everyone else. I will teach you one day how to read entire networks in one afternoon, how to see who's alligned with him and who stands where in the paddock. " He can observe how Amadeo is perceived, which mattered to him. Monaco is a chessboard with no walls and he thrived in that.

"It is spectacle, curated excess and performance. I understand it's utility, I enjoy watching the theatre because I am immune to it. But I have no patience for hedge-fund princess and nouveau‑riche tech disruptors who mistake their money for power or influences who think access equals relevance.I dislike nothing more than the noise of false significance." And most of all he hates how he feels like he is in a fishbowl, he doesn't mind being seen but he hates being observed without consent, tolerating it only because he could weaponise it.

"Do you like the F1?" Baldwin asked as they gazed to the city from their private balcony. "I respect mastery. The precision, the discipline, the danger and innovation, ruthlessness disguised as elegance." He doesn't care about 'sports' but he cares about systems and F1 is a system of power, money and physics, that interested him.

Now the Edelweiss made perfect sense to Amadeo, and at the same time, he now liked the bouquet even more. It was personal on top of the meaning it represented. A fond smile plastered on Amadeo’s lips followed by the nod of acknowledgement. ❝I should’ve seen that. I didn’t think it was your favourite though.❞ He chuckled a bit and shrugged almost innocently, even though he was far from innocent. ❝You will laugh when you hear the full story I came up with. So…❞ Amadeo cleared his throat.  ❝I was unsure about the Edelweiss part as it has two meanings when it comes to you and me. At first I mused that the Edelweiss could represent my courage to speak to you at the soiree. I connected it with my quite brazen courage of having a sparring match over flowers and thorns with you. Not everyone would dare to do that when they set their eyes on you for the first time. Edelweiss is a flower with more meanings, but I do see you in Edelweiss, which gave it a double meaning to me right away. Not because of the German literal translation of noble and white. Devotion, immortality, courage, and resilience. All these words resemble Edelweiss, and I see all those traits in you. In that sense, I settled for the Edelweiss to be you. The single rosemary is a symbol of memory, which I see as the memory of our first date; hence, there is only one because one date night, so one memory. Blue thistles around them as a protective shield of whatever is blooming inside, not yet decided if the protection is for the vulnerability inside or outside. Maybe the thorns you keep around yourself for now to protect yourself or the thorns you are longing for to shield you from the outside disruptions. Because what can shield better from disruptions than the disruptor? White hellebore, as a symbol of hope for whatever is blooming, may grow in pureness. A hope you carry in front of your shield without even noticing it. And Black calla lilies being the symbol of the persona you show on the outside, hence them being not inside the thistle shield but at the very outside edges. Mysterious, elegant, and with sophisticated power, that’s what you represent on the outside. You will forgive me because I didn’t have that much time to get into the full interpretation yet. It might be a little wonky.❞

Oh, how much he missed feeling that hand in his hair and the other’s presence near him. He knew that some could feel uncomfortable and intimidated in Baldwin’s presence, but to Amadeo he radiated so much strength and power that it became eerily soothing to be around. And he had enough humor to make Amadeo laugh effortlessly.

❝I know, right? I was often tempted just to call you via FaceTime to debate properly.❞   The reason he didn’t do it was that Baldwin was a busy man. But that didn’t mean that he hadn’t been tempted. He lifted his gaze and his dark eyes found Baldwin’s eyes for a bit. It was only their second time meeting face to face properly, and yet there was still so much longing in Amadeo’s deepest regions of his soul. His heart fluttered just at the prospect of potentially being seen. Once more, he leaned against that hand and smiled a bit. ❝At least I have warned you back then. Maybe I try to get under your skin like a splinter. To make sure you will not forget my presence.❞ His hand traced over Baldwin’s side just so gently, then he suddenly lifted his hand, caressed Baldwin’s cheek, and placed a peck on his lips.  ❝A man who did nothing but treat me well and made sure I was well taken care of during the travel does not deserve any ill thought.❞ Amadeo spoke softly. ❝But that doesn’t mean that the gifts didn’t bring a big smile on my face because they did and still do.❞ 

Curiously, he looked at the shopping bags and widened his eyes a little, seeing the Berluti shoes, the belt, and the pocket square. ❝They are gorgeous. And they’ll match so well with the couture piece I am planning to wear. I will write a little thank you letter to your personal friend. Would you be so kind as to deliver it for me the next time you see him? It is very important to be very polite and grateful in the fashion industry. No one wants to work or support a diva.❞ And Amadeo had a certain image to keep. People don’t have to know how much of a snob he could be. No, he would hide all his personal feelings so well in front of clients that they would only see his smiling face.

But it was the second bag that made Amadeo wrap his arms around Baldwin’s neck. ❝Thank you. You really didn’t have to. But thank you. Such nice scarves; they will love them. Winters in Venice can be dreadful.❞ Quickly, he nodded, let go of Baldwin and held out his right hand. With big eyes, he watched the Cartier be attached to his wrist. It had a nice weight to it, and the golden colour looked really nice on his skin; he had to admit that. ❝It’s beautiful.❞ He twisted his wrist a little before they both went out on the balcony, where they kissed properly, and Amadeo noticed that the phone wouldn’t interrupt them. Not tonight.

Slowly, he turned around to look at the city for a while. So many lights, and he could feel that life was pulsing around. ❝No, it is my first time here. I don’t travel much. No, wrong, I don’t travel abroad outside of work. Which place do you think is worth visiting for fun, I mean? I’m sure you’ve seen a few nice places?❞ The young man turned his head a little bit to the side and smirked almost boyishly. ❝I look forward to learning from your knowledge. I’m a fast learner. And I would appreciate not to fall for the wrong person.❞ 

He lowered his hand just enough that his fingertips could almost accidentally brush over Baldwin’s hand. ❝I like the noise of the engines. Odd, I know. I’m not so much into the sports per se. But the speed, the rush of the adrenaline that must run through their veins, the very fine line of life and death. One wrong decision from the driver or the team, one failure of the techniques. Is it the driver who achieves the win? Or is it the money spent on the technical innovations? Or can one not be without the other? And isn’t it fascinating how fast they are when it comes to technical innovations? Did you ever sit in one of those vehicles?❞ 

Oh, he rambled again. Good that Baldwin stopped him by complimenting his hair. Amadeo wore it half up, half down tonight. ❝Thank you. I’m glad you like it. I have to grow it out for Milan Fashion Week. Requirements of the designer. You don’t think it’s too long?!❞ His index finger curled around Baldwin’s while his shoulder leaned against the other man’s upper arm.  ❝I know, we have to get ready for dinner soon. Shall I dress down for the occasion?❞ He wouldn’t want to embarrass the other man by dressing inappropriately. Amadeo looked up again and hummed. ❝You really make it hard not to kiss you. You look good when the lights of the night touch your face like that.❞  

"What? Have I got something on my face?" The journalist asked finding Armand's gaze staring and unblinking with such a preternatural eeriness to them. It was like being caught under a headlamp and unable to move as they studied him, yet move he did in that he kept kneading Armand's firm bum on his lap.

"I think the fact I can't keep my hands off too points towards you being very desired...doesn't it. But yes, are you kidding? You're so fucking hot. I could cum in my pants just thinking about you. You should be impressed by how much a gentleman I have been, I am very sex oriented and we had a perfectly civilised evening so far when I could have made a move on you the moment you got up. Cause trust me, I absolutely wanted to push you back into your fort and serve you a little breakfast in bed" Daniel's fingertips traced up Armand's back ever so gently, barely caressing him, feather light and delicate to see if he was sensitive to such touch.

Daniel smirked and just cocked an eyebrow as if to tease him that he could guess what his favourite part of him was. "Um most beautiful... I haven't had a chance to properly look at you and assess you. Tonight, and you will have to ask me again tomorrow and the night after and the night after until I have made a proper assessment but tonight your eyes. Beautiful and strange. Unusual eye appreciation society, go us" he raised his hand and tried not to laugh as of course Armand didn't know what a high five was so he took that dainty wrist and slapped his hand against Armand's.

"Well, what can I say. It's an all you can eat Daniel buffet and Armand eats for free" Daniel didn't need much coaxing to pull his shirt over his head and allow Armand free roam of his torso. "You have such a good body on you-" he sat up to kiss Armand's neck, his jaw, nuzzled his nose and kissed him a deep and sloppy kiss full of tongue that took his breath away. He quite liked kissing...and cuddling dead things.

"If you want my jeans off you're gonna have to move, gorgeous." If he did he would be greeted with an uncomfortable semi that had been straining against his jeans. "Where would Monsieur like to start? We have a few delectable dishes. Neck...breast... the thighs are looking decent tonight although the chef recommends the spicy sausage soufflé" Daniel went with the buffet analogy kissing Armand's chest, blunt human teeth grazed those muscled pectorals.

His phone vibrated, someone called but Daniel ignored it. "Probably last minute need for a journalist, ignore it. Ignore it, I am busy-" a notification of a voicemail, yeah definitely some assignment that popped up. He had moved away from working for periodicals and magazines during their chase but his number still existed in the rollodexes of editors.

❝No? I am just looking at you, Beloved,❞ Armand answered in his usual eerily calm voice while his unblinking eyes kept observing the mortal closely.  Daniel was fascinating, even more now that they were so close. There was a flicker in Armand’s amber eyes just in that moment Daniel admitted that he found Armand desirable. So, he still had it in him? Centuries of not being seen had finally come to an end, and Armand was not even sure how to handle all of that. He wanted validation; he wanted to be desired; he wanted Daniel to want him. Years of courting, and Daniel had not seen Armand’s intentions.

Warm fingertips traced over his back and caused him to shiver just so slightly. ❝I used to be like you when I was still alive.❞ It was a simple sentence, but it slipped out of his mouth so easily. He used to be a young man with a high sex drive as well, and so he couldn’t blame Daniel for being a young man full of hormones. ❝I liked what we did yesterday.❞ He admitted. No matter how much strength it took him not to snap Daniel like a twig, he never felt so alive and so wanted. Maybe it was not a healthy way to go about it, but Daniel made him feel good and wasn’t that all that mattered? 

He pursed his lips a little bit. ❝You didn’t look at me properly yesterday then? Hm, I forgive you. You look more closely at me from now on then. Maybe one day you’ll find something I have never discovered before. A mole? A scar?❞ He had none of those thanks to Marius, but if that would motivate Daniel to look closer, the little trick could be excused.  Armand’s eyes got a little bigger when his palm got slapped against Daniel’s. Strange. But he saw humans do that at times. For what? Why? Strange. But now he knew that when Daniel held his hand up like that, he had to clap it. He’ll ask about the reasons when they weren’t in the middle of something. Not when Daniel took his shirt off so willingly.

Armand’s eyes brightened a little bit while his hand traced over the naked torso in anticipation. His fingertips traced over the chest fuzz. ❝I like this one.❞ He said, caressing the little fuzz some more. The moment Daniel sat up, Armand’s hand rested on the back of Daniel’s head. Those sweet, warm lips on his cool skin made him sigh out loud just so softly. He wanted this mortal. He wanted every inch of Daniel. Their kiss was sloppy, and Armand couldn’t stop moving with writhing on the mortal’s lap, but he also hated the fabric that separated them. So he pulled away just enough that he could put his hands on the waistband to free the mortal from those trousers he doesn’t need anyway. 

Armand looked at the semi that greeted him right when he freed Daniel from the fabric, but those teeth on his skin were a little distracting. Armand parted his lips; the phone vibrated and immediately, his gaze moved to the pocket telephone. Fascinating, they can even vibrate. How does that work? Ah, another question to ask some other time. Not now, when he had his favourite mortal underneath him. With one hand on Daniel’s shoulder, he pushed him back to the ground. The tip of his sharp, pointy index fingernail scratched gently over Daniel’s pale chest very close to the nipple; Armand nicked the skin enough that a little bit of blood oozed out of the wound. 

❝You like it when I am not nice? Is that so?❞ Armand parted his lips just a little bit, enough that the tips of his small fangs showed. He didn’t give Daniel much time to react as the vampire moved down just enough that his tongue could gather a bit of Daniel’s blood.  ❝Hmmmm❞ Armand pierced the pad of his finger to close the wound with his own blood again. ❝He was less than the dirt on my shoe.❞ Armand kissed his way over Daniel’s other pectoral. His tongue flicked out again; this time he circled the nipple curiously. Both of his cool hands settled on Daniel’s waist to hold him down in case the mortal thought about getting up. 

❝I think I like the Daniel buffet.❞ Armand looked up and smirked a bit. With his index finger, he drew a little heart on Daniel’s stomach. ❝Beloved? Tell me, are you brave enough to let me try something? Something a mortal couldn’t do? Are you brave when I tell you it will not hurt? Or are you too scared of the monster I am?❞

His words, "No one is waiting for me." It sounded incredibly lonely despite the way he so casually said it. Bianca didn't hesitate; she cupped his face between her hands and looked at him with an earnest expression one might rarely see with her. "I have been waiting for you. I have been missing you for 500 years, my Angel. I don't want you to only stay for a few days to catch up. I don't think I ever want to say goodbye to you again." She leaned in, kissing his forehead.

"We can share a coffin, you can rest in my arms as you did in my swan bed when the nights turned to morning and you simply couldn't keep your eyes open anymore." Those were fond memories, the closeness between them. Endless conversations until he drifted away into a sweet slumber. And she'd hold him, watch him sleep, keeping him close, gently running her hand through his hair.

"I know a lot has happened, my love. The world has changed, and we have changed. Terrible things have happened to both of us. But we can get back what we had. I refuse to have but a blink of time with you before you vanish from my life again. Don’t leave Amadeo…stay with me. Forever.” She let go of his face and reached for his hands. Kissing the back of his hands one after another. When he finally settled next to her, she wrapped an arm around his shoulders.

He let Bianca take his face in her gentle hands. Unlike what one might think, Armand let her touch him, and he let her kiss his forehead. Those were just a couple of ministrations, something anyone else would take for granted, everyone but Armand. He’s been so deprived of any kind of loving touch that he would just take whatever he could get. At least for a little while he would be able to shove the loneliness aside. Only a faint little smile seemed to appear on his lips at the offer to sleep in her arms once more like he used to as a mortal. But why was this feeling so wrong now? He couldn’t even reply to that offer because something told him that it was wrong. His mortal self never thought about right and wrong when he crawled into her bed to hide from the world. Bianca’s bed chambers have always been his safe haven.

But now, after all the cruelty he had done to those he loved, Armand was certain that he did not deserve any kindness. Maybe Marius always knew, and that was one of the many reasons why he let Amadeo rot in Paris. Because it wasn’t anything else but that. Shame and grief over what he did to Riccardo would always haunt him and dictate the rest of his existence. He could see the tears swelling in her eyes, but he couldn’t save her from the gruesome truth. Instead, he only lifted one hand and caressed his thumb over her soft cheek.

❝No, I am sorry. I took him away from you too. I never believed the Master when he called our kind monsters. He was never a monster to me. But when I did what I did to my poor innocent Riccardo, I understood. We are monsters. In one way or the other. Are monsters allowed to be loved?❞ 

He didn’t want to smile, but he heard from Bianca what she ultimately felt toward him. No, not him, Amadeo. Mortal, young, innocent Amadeo. And when she called him Angel again, Armand had to lower his hand, thinking about how he told Marius to paint him with black wings because he never felt like an innocent angel. But how could she still not see it? Armand tried so hard to be respectful here. He tried hard not to make Marius as much of a topic as possible. Not even an hour ago, he heard that his Maker abandoned him. Not even an hour ago, he heard that the man he thought dead was still very much alive and just unbothered by Armand’s longing. How could she still take his side? How could she still justify it all? Was her love for him that great? How could she claim that she loved Amadeo so much when at the same time she defended Marius with all she had? Oh, he tried so hard not to lash out. He tried so hard to do what Armand was best at. Hiding it all behind a wall of indifference was easier than facing all the pain and disappointment.

❝He had not even the mercy in him to kill me. Is that love? I respect your love for him, my dearest Bianca. And it is only my respect for you that holds me back from saying hurtful things. If he and I ever happen to face each other, I will face him with the respect a Maker deserves, but I will never forgive him. I will never let him close to me again. I abhor him. I fear him. Perhaps, I fear that I could love him again, and loving him, I would come to need him, and needing him, I would come to learn from him, and learning from him, I would be again his faithful pupil in all things.❞ 

He shook his head a bit, pulled his hands away, and moved away to put distance between himself and Bianca. ❝I respect the love you hold for him. But I ask you to respect me as well. I will not ask you to choose him or me.❞  Not out of pure kindness, but because Armand knew that he wouldn’t win as he never won. ❝I don’t want to hurt you, so please don’t push me to it. You are a good soul, Bianca, and I wish I could see the good in everything just like you. But I can’t. Not anymore. Forgive me.❞ 

Lestat stared ahead but turned his gaze when he saw Amadeo looking at his profile. Lestat's fingers were still tight around the steering wheel, bracing himself for…whatever he had expected to come out of this. "Hm-" Lestat looked somewhat offended. Not by Amadeo, by the narrative Marius spun.

"Your Master sent me away, if he ever wished for me then he too is part of the endless stream of people that…well, found me easy to want but not easy to want to keep. He had chances, and if he ever truly wished for me, which I doubt, he never made a motion towards having me. Always scolding, always lecturing and mentoring, and at times, yes, being a shelter and a sanctuary during turmoil, but never invited me to really be at his side. His choice, then, I suppose, if he is deceiving you with his grand speech of loving me more than you, if he was a coward that never braved to make his feelings known, or what I believe is the truth, I was too much for him too. Alright from afar, the idea of me, but come too close and I am unbearable. The idea of surviving prolonged exposure to me intolerable. I have always been the one left not the one leaving." He would have stayed when Anthony returned from his travels if Marius had given him but an inkling that he wanted him to stay. Perhaps he had hoped he would have, that something more than friendship could bloom slowly...but alas this had not been the case. Perhaps his flirtations had been treated as a personality rather than intentions.

"That is not love, Amadeo. Not the love I need. It is not enough to be loved if you are not seen is it. He trusted me with things I do not think he will trust with another ever again in this lifetime...but his heart was never one of them. And I have been easy to get many times. At least three times where my heart was there for the taking, and if he loved me like he claimed to you, why would he not take it. We shared embraces, soft and warm and protective was he when the world was terrifying and I upset but there was no kiss, no touch, no invite to his bed. Love, for me, is not silent. If it is not Earth shattering devotion I do not want it- and there is no darkness that you can conjure that I have not drowned in. I see not the dark vortex Marius speaks of...I see a young man. A beautiful young man with young man urges greately capable of love, devotion, gentleness and cruelty. Like everyone else, you are a mosaic of pieces, some bright and bubbly some dark making the outline and I love you still. All of you is loved, even the parts of you that disgust you, I hold them gently and kiss them as tenderly because without them there would be no you. I have great malice in me, there is something broken deep in here-" Lestat took Amadeo's hand and made him put it on his chest where his heart did not beat.

"It is shattered and mended, but not all of it remains. There is something broken in it...and it makes me desperate. I cling with claws and teeth to hang on and wound that which I love in the process. Love me, love me, love me I scream terrified. Choose me, just this once, let it be the time that someone chooses me. What is so terrible about me, Amadeo that no one wants to stay?" he asked eyes turned pink from the blood tears.

"No one- not one soul chose me at the end. No one-" he sniffled. "It's alright...I would not choose me either"

Lestat wept, he threw himself half across to Amadeo. "Please don't leave me....I could not bear it if you left me. Please-"

The mortal was well aware that the only reason he had been able to cause damage to Marius was that his (former) master let him. But he wasn’t proud of his outburst. The strike was deserved, and at least it made him snap out of his little rage. And yet, Marius’ words about Lestat caused way more harm and pain than the physical pain. He was spiraling in his raging thoughts of not being good enough for anyone. How should anyone deal with the fact that the Master you spent more than ten years with never saw you in the same way as another vampire. And how ironic when that very vampire was the person you fell head over heels for. 

Amadeo felt like he was standing at a crossroads with no way to turn back. He couldn’t forget everything that had been said. Would the creeping anxiety of losing Lestat to someone older and wiser ease any time soon? The young mortal tried to calm himself by taking a deep breath and collecting his thoughts after sharing the story with Lestat. He wanted to give the other man time to think about it and say something about it. And that he did. Hearing that they spent quite a bit of time together wasn’t new to Amadeo, and it didn’t hurt him. Immortal paths crossed, and he wasn’t surprised that Lestat tried to get more from Marius either. They both could agree that Marius’ appearance was stunning and he carried himself like a gentleman. He was alluring in so many ways. And yet, he seemed to have trouble showing his interest in the same way. 

One of his shaky hands traced a long curly strand of hair behind his ear before he rested his hand in his lap again. ❝I know,❞ he whispered when Lestat stated that this was not the love he needed. Oh, he could see how Marius’ silent love was not for Lestat, but the embraces Marius gave the younger vampire confirmed that Marius did not make up this story to get them to separate. 

Amadeo’s train of thought was cut short the moment his palm came to rest on that firm chest. With his thumb, Amadeo caressed over the fabric. The entire time, he stayed silent to give Lestat enough time and space to finish his train of thought, but the further the other went on, the more Amadeo thought that he should have intervened. 

Something in Lestat seemed to change. Amadeo saw the pink in his eyes before the blood tears started falling. ❝Agapi mou…❞ Without thinking about it, Amadeo wrapped his arms around the other and held him tight to his chest as much as it was possible in the car. One of his hands came to rest on the back of Lestat’s head. His nose nuzzled in that blond, soft hair. ❝I’m not leaving you.❞ He whispered before placing a kiss on the crown of Lestat’s head. ❝I love you, Lestat. I love you so much. I love you more than anything or anyone in this world. I chose you. I choose you. I’ll always choose you.❞ After all, didn’t Amadeo reject Marius twice now? Thrice maybe? 

His nose buried into Lestat’s hair a little more while he tightened his embrace as much as humanly possible. Amadeo didn’t even notice how his body trembled a little bit and how thick the knot in his throat had become. ❝Be yourself. Be Lestat. Be you with all your lovable traits and all your flaws. Be you. Please. I love you. No one is perfect. I love your imperfections just as much as your perfections. When he told me that he loves you, I was scared you would leave me for him. I promise you, we will not part. I will not walk away from you. You’ll have to end my existence to get your peace.❞ He swallowed the thick lump in his throat while his hand on the back of Lestat’s head tried to massage his scalp a little bit. ❝We…we are both lonely and used to not being chosen. I don’t know why no one chose you before, agapi mou. And you don’t even have to choose yourself either. I choose you. It’s enough. I see nothing terrible about you. And if you cannot love yourself, I love you for the both of us.❞  

At the mention of the Nogitsune, his blood ran cold, his bottom lip trembling, any other sarcastic comment drying out, like a lake in the middle of a drought.❝ How do you know...❞ As Armand continues, dredging up more of his past, Stiles can feel himself unraveling. His hands are shaking, and without realizing it, he's rubbing them on his clothes, trying to wipe off something that wasn't there.

There was just a hint of a sparkle in Armand’s amber-coloured eyes that could give a hint of how much Stiles’ behaviour was amusing him.  Humans could achieve so much when their adrenaline was rushing through their veins. No pain, so much more ability to endure. And the fast thumping of the other’s heart only added to the slight amusement Armand was facing. And eerily enough, none of this amusement transferred to Armand’s face. He looked like a statue who took all the little microexpressions and reactions in.

❝How I know?❞ He hummed a little bit and lifted one hand. With his index finger, he pointed at Stiles’ forehead. ❝I saw it. Right there.❞ With his pointy, glass-like nail, he pointed right between Stiles’ eyes. Would the human know that Armand was talking about his memories? Slowly, he lowered his hand again. Maybe Armand’s social abilities weren’t as advanced, but he certainly knew that keeping his hand raised like that could make the other man feel threatened.

A soft little huff fell from his lips; maybe it could be considered a sign of amusement. More information about Stiles’ friends was running through his mind. Armand wouldn’t comment on it, but it was useful information he might be able to use in the future. Right now, however, he needed Stiles’ brain for something else.

❝We have a deal then. How delightful. That was easier than I thought.❞ And for the first time, something like a smile appeared on his lips. ❝I suggest we go somewhere more private? I let you choose the location; you seem a little stressed to me, Stiles. Oh, my name is Armand; I did not introduce myself yet; how rude of me. Are you familiar with…Vampires?❞ 

Even in their nicer approach the spark of their rivalry was kept alive, the way Armand pushed against his tongue as he tried to suck his fingers, the way Nicolas simply took his pleasure. It was the only thing making this night worth enduring, finally something pleasant. "Why shouldn't I taunt you? Have you not had enough of vampires threading on eggshells around you, little prince?" He questions pressing a kiss to Armand's cheek to further drive his point. Some men just can't resist wanting to touch the very thing that would kill them, fire, tigers, poisonous plants. To know you ought to not but still being driven to do it.

It seems like Nicolas knew too well what to say and how to act to make Armand let go of his precious control. The brick wall that kept all of his emotions locked away seemed to become a little thinner the moment he changed their position.

"Well, the Old Greats painted for churches, for patrons, for royal courts. Their art was not for them, I am afforded the luxury of not requiring to please anyone and merely my friends' stern judgement if I paint something silly" Ysabeau understood why the artists he modelled for and sacrificed so much for demanded such pain and suffering, their art had to mean something, it had to please, to convey, to exist for everyone else's enjoyment while she just painted because she liked doing it and as a hobbyist she could afford to let Armand put a little piece of himself in the art too. "You know far more about how to create a masterpiece than me, none of my paintings will ever hang in a museum so I welcome the creativity of an expert making adjustments to help me make this the best it can be. It's almost a shame, utilising someone so masterpiece worthy for practise…but II have always been demanding of things that beyond my reach"

"When we have painted your body and the paint needs to dry I will give you a small tour of my home and show you some of my artworks. Mostly landscapes and shipwrecks...and tongue in cheek nudity. I find it amusing how much we mystify bodies...I have painted the entire zodiac as saucy little interpretations, I will show you Aquarius, it is my best one. Your maker would have scoffed and called my art low brow. He would be so angry I turned his delightful cherub to a dark seducer. Tut-tut-tut. The Renaissance bored me, innocence and delight is like a block of pure sugar-makes you sick after too many bites." Maybe because she thought the innocent and the naive weak and easy to prey upon. "Maybe I was bias, I spent most of the Renaissance alone, my companion off to war with my beloved son in tow. Maybe they pissed me off, all these angels and these saints in company of each other while I toiled bitter and cold and alone. Friends tried to cheer me up, and for that I am grateful.But I prefer baroque angels, swords and blood and devastation"

If she was to be an angel, let her be an Old Testament angel when they had agency and wrath. "Like every woman I learned to endure it. I was blessed, in my home I was often consulted and counted on for advice and opinion and not many had that privilege. It was not all golden praises, I was loved and respected but...there were times I wish he saw me less as his Goddess to worship and more as a flawed woman that missed him and was angered and upset. But I learned to allow my enemies to underestimate me, to smile as they degraded me and thought me stupid and naive, like my roses or my prickly poppies. Such beautiful blossoms, goodness knows how dangerous it would be should someone topple over the viewing railing" Like that little harlot that thought of taking my husband.She would never be beautiful again, not like she was, losing an eye and covered in scratches and welts by the time she got out of that bed of thorns and poppy.

"What is your favourite flower? Perhaps I can gift you a painting of you surrounded by them. Flowers are so thematic, I would quite like to do that, as thanks for your time and gracing my little observatory with your beauty and intelligence"

"It is attributed as the start of the movement of Naturalism, I believe? I enjoyed the period of neoclassism before it, the little bit I caught after my long sleep. I have never viewed it but I have seen pictures of the Death of Abel" She wondered where the sculpture was today, if it was still intact. "No by all means while we are working on the background and your form feel free to ramble. When I paint your face I will need you to be perfectly still and quiet. I am enjoying my education into the Renaissance and her art. Maybe I judged her too harshly, maybe one day soon I will revisit her masterpieces and view them with the lens of you weaved through them." Even the ones he didn't pose for, Amadeo's life had been dedicated to the art of that era, it was worth giving it one more chance to impress her.

"I have seen a few of his murals. I preferred his mind to his art, I thought him a better philosopher but when I wanted to coax my husband back I commissioned him and none else to paint my portrait, so perhaps you were a harsher critic than I." Ysabeau's brush hovered when he ask about Matthew. "He lives to upset and disappoint me one more day. I will tell him you sent your regards. He is in love with a woman that will cause ruin to him, to me, to our family. But he's in love-" she mocked, how bitchy she sounded mocking them. She forced herself to inhale. "She was a graduate student in Oxford. They met at the library when their gazes locked from across the room" she rolled her eyes.

"Apologies, that was beneath me" Ysabeau composed herself. "It is just so very disappointing that he does not listen to my advice. I swear, children were made to break our hearts and nothing else"

And once again, Armand couldn’t hold back his burst of laughter. He liked the way she was thinking about art and how she was approaching the matter. But even more, he was amused by how she was talking about Marius and his vision. Amadeo had never been a cherub, not in the sense of how Marius wanted him to be, but he used to grow tired of the discussion and just let him think whatever he wanted.

❝I was never the cherub he wanted me to be, not even in my mortal years. Maybe my face looked innocent, but I was never. The pureness of the Renaissance was a concept I could respect. I could see the appeal. However, I can see why you hold negative feelings. Being reminded of a period of loneliness does not make an era appealing.❞ Armand mused without moving a muscle in his body. ❝There are a few things I regret. Missing the baroque is one of those things. I experienced nothing of that time period. I saw the changes whenever I left the underground hiding place beneath a cemetery in Paris. But there were only two occasions for a Coven Master to leave: to feed or to hunt down another vampire. Either because they ran away from the Coven, or because they entered the Coven’s territory. I did not witness Versailles, another thing I deeply regret. I would have loved to see it in it’s prime. I would have loved to attend one of those lavish parties.❞ He made a soft humming sound while he was dwelling in his thoughts. ❝I visited the gardens of Versailles once. Maybe two decades ago. Nice, but I assume not as impressive as it used to be back then.❞  

Perhaps, he was rambling a little too much. Armand couldn’t turn back time. He had to live with the fact that he missed important pieces of history because of Santino and the satanic coven. But could he really blame them when he simply never rebelled? He fell silent again so he could listen to her, and he could relate to the conflict. Enduring was a word he knew too well. ❝You made it your strength then. The most dangerous of us are those who radiate peace and comfort. Many men back in the day did not realize that it wasn’t them making decisions but their wives. The powerful women of history were forgotten because they left the spotlight to their husbands. I did not rule alone either. My first coven was led by me on the outside, but it was Allesandra who had been the closest to me. Her advice and her strength held the coven together. Not me.❞ He could admit that now without putting himself down. 

❝My favourite flower is the Magnolia. I used to grow a magnolia tree with pink petals.❞ Was this odd? He didn’t know. Most of the time, Armand had no clue what people expected from him when they laid their eyes on him. A soft smirk appeared on his lips. Yes, he always used to be much harsher on Marius’ works, but maybe he just wanted his Master to do better, like Marius always wanted Amadeo to do better.

Slowly, he turned his head a bit to the side, just enough that he could observe Ysabeau as she spoke. But instead of judging her, a smile formed on his lips. It was a soft and almost fond little smile. ❝We should agree on not apologizing for our honesty anymore. You do not speak ill of your son. I can hear the worry of a mother in your words. Is that really something to apologize for? Isn’t it natural not to like a potential daughter-in-law at first? Love makes us stupid. Sometimes, I feel like our kind is much more prone to that than a mortal. Most of us love with every fiber of our hearts. And keeping in mind that he is your son, I assume that Matthew is a man of strong will and passion. It is not my place to give advice, so I don’t. I just hope for you and for him that he doesn’t have to choose between the family and his loved one one day.❞ Armand turned his head back in the original position and closed his eyes. Armand remained still until she allowed him to take a break. He carefully put the grapes away in the bowl again and got up from his position. He slipped his right arm into the sleeve and pulled everything tight so Ysabeau wouldn’t feel awkward around him. Curious about how the painting looked so far, he walked around to glance over her shoulder.

❝Oh…❞ he whispered and tilted his head to the side. ❝That’s me?❞ obviously. A lump formed in his throat even though it was just his outlines. But he could envision it much better now. And something about this painting was already doing something to him. ❝You are going to make me emotional. I didn’t think that my appearance could fit in such a scenario. I never doubted your talent, by the way. Now…anyway…please scandalize me with your works.❞

"So this is how it's going to be. Centuries of love and friendship between us and we are to be cocks in a hen coop." Lestat's heart broke a little actually, he once loved Marius too alongside Anthony. And here they were...with a divide between them that seemed so steep no bridge could ever be built over it again. So be it. "Why couldn't you just be a gentleman. Why must you break everything that loves you. Me included. You knew I would not allow for this...did you wish for a fight?"

"I don't dish empty threats ,Marius" Mark my words you will not touch him again unpunished. No one stopped the brutal beatings in the hands of his father, Lestat would not stand idle and watch Amadeo be struck. Never again, never again would Lestat walk away from now on.This would be his one and final warning.

Lestat knew that Marius could easily kill him. It would be easy for the ancient but then he'd martyr Lestat who'd die for love and Amadeo would never get over that. Amadeo's hands went on his cheeks. Lestat rolled his eyes back backed off. "I will let him leave then with his hair attached on his scalp and not wear it like a scarf because you asked. Mercy then, because you demanded it and I can listen. I can put my ego aside out of my love for you" Lestat spoke bestowing a kiss full of tongue and moans and walked away, stomped away in fact towards the car.

He thought it for a moment, he thought about snapping Amadeo's head to the side and giving him the dark gift right there and then in front of Marius just to spite him, just to make him watch Amadeo's death and and how deep Lestat's claws had already dug into the young man.

Was this partly posturing? Yes. It absolutely was. Lestat had always been the sort of man to turn everything to his favour, and Amadeo pleading him to stop was one of those moments too, to wedge one more nail into the coffin of his familiar relationship with Marius that Lestat would listen and choose Amadeo's comfort over his own pride. He could have spitted Marius by turning Amadeo right there in front of him...but that would just make the moment about Marius and he refused to allow another man haunt their immortal love.

"Well, once more I try to be respectful and kind and someone throws my kindness in my face" Lestat spoke when Amadeo got into the car after him. "I am still tempted to run him over..." He didn't even know where Marius went. "No man will strike you again, not while you are mine. You have my word for it...you should have broken the vial. I would have come and slapped him back."

Even though he took everything Lestat handed him, Amadeo was determined not to let a fight happen. If he had to throw himself between two vampires and risk being torn apart, he would do so. Everyone was just hurt at the moment. A fight would just make it worse. And even though Amadeo was not looking at Marius, he knew that his Master was just as hurt as they all were. ❝Please!!❞ Amadeo said loud enough for Marius to hear as well. ❝No more. Please.❞  And Amadeo would stay there. As long as the tension was still thick like that, he couldn’t trust either of these vampires. 

But it hurt so much. Marius was right with everything he said to Amadeo when they had their private talk. Amadeo ruins everything and everyone around him. Maybe the resentment Marius felt wasn’t because of losing Amadeo, but because of losing Lestat. Slowly, the pieces were put together, and Amadeo could swear he heard glass breaking. Was this how it felt when the heart breaks apart? Perhaps. Not even kissing Lestat so intensely and passionately could make him feel less guilty. He couldn’t even look back at Marius anymore. Amadeo was trapped in the turmoil of feelings he couldn’t even explain to himself. And so he was only able to sigh in relief when Lestat decided to walk back to the car. And Amadeo followed. He still held the jewelry the vampire gave him earlier. 

Silence had fallen over them for a moment until they were both back in the car. Amadeo’s lean fingers held the jewelry tightly while he tried to calm his mind and his nerves. He didn’t expect this night to go entirely wrong like that. He didn’t expect Lestat to get worked up over a red cheek. Maybe Amadeo should’ve thought about that, but he’d just been too happy and relieved to get back to the person he loves to really care about the repercussions. Amadeo listened, as he always did. And he took those words in, knowing how upset and disappointed Lestat must be.

❝I couldn’t break the vial.❞ Amadeo answered, and his voice sounded hoarse from how dry it was. ❝I started it. It was my fault. He said something, and it made me upset.❞ The mortal put the jewelry in his lap and stretched his fingers enough that he could witness the remains of blood and skin under his nails. ❝I scratched him. I kicked, bit, and scratched. Because I wanted him to feel the pain his words caused. It was my fault. I deserved the strike.❞ No secrets. That’s what he promised Lestat. Silence only leads to wrong assumptions and situations like the one they faced before. ❝He said I will pull you into the vortex of darkness with me. He said that I will be your demise. More than Louis, more than Claudia. In his very own way, he said that I am not good for you. And it hurt me so much that I lost it. He loves you more than me. I can accept that.❞  Can he really? He had to accept it. ❝But forgive me for feeling a little hurt. I understand why he loves you more; I would love you more too.❞ 

Carefully, he turned his head to the side, just enough that he could observe Lestat’s profile for a while. It was odd to know that this was the face that held the Master’s unconditional love. The love Marius had for Amadeo always came with conditions and restrictions. Amadeo leaned in and placed the jewelry on the dashboard carefully. He would take it again when Lestat drove.

❝It was probably good you didn’t give it to me. Not for my sake, but for yours. It wouldn’t hurt me if we don’t stick to the plan.❞ But maybe Lestat wouldn’t want him anymore now that he knew what the whole fuss was about. Amadeo shifted his weight just enough that he could lean over the middle. One of his hands traced over Lestat’s forearm while the other hand cupped the blond man’s cheek.

❝I love you. I love you more than him.❞ And wasn’t it ironic that Amadeo and Marius had that in common? With gentle force, he tilted Lestat’s head a bit to the side, just enough that he could lean in, close the last bit of distance between them, and capture the other man’s lips with his own. It was a passionate kiss and yet filled with Amadeo’s deepest longing in his heart. ❝I love you,❞ he whispered again. ❝I’m sorry. I’m sorry this happened. But I love you. I love you even if you ever happen to not want me anymore. I love you!!!❞