#trinity gate

Louis: so you just let Benji run his own podcast about vampires? Aren’t you worried that there’s some of us out there who won’t like that? After what happened with Lestat…

Armand: if anyone has any complaints about it they know they can come to me

Louis: and have they?

Sybelle playing piano while Louis reads, or annotation music while he answers emails.

Going on hunts together, strolling down the street arm in arm.

Armand and Benji join for their own little quiet time, too. Pouring over maps while conversing in their heads. Armand resting his head in Louis' lap to listen to Sybelle play.

The Game [AO3]

Armand/Lestat - A Story in 6 Parts - Post-Canon - Ensemble Cast

When Armand and Lestat won't stop bickering during the Vampire Court's Summer Sabbatical at Trinity Gate, Marius proposes a game for them to play: chose a mortal, any mortal, and study them for two weeks while abstaining from blood drinking of any kind. Winner gets bragging rights among other things, and loser will never hear the end of it. But can Lestat and Armand both stick to the rules and play the game without ruining everyone else's summer?

This has been such a fun fic to write! I started it this summer, forgot about it, found it again, and have been having a blast writing the rest so I hope people love reading it as much as I've loved writing it.

This fic was inspired by a small section of Bury Our Bones in the Midnight Soil by V.E. Schwab, in which two characters in Venice play a similar game. When I read it, I thought it would be really fun to present Armand and Lestat with a similar challenge.

I am a multishipper and though this fic does revolve around Lestat and Armand, other characters are involved and all ships are present and respected. Immortals have a lot of love to give. It's also dueling POV with both Armand and Lestat's perspectives.

This is 6 parts (so far, I am writing the last part as we speak and may decide it needs a 7th) but mostly drafted so I hope to post this weekly.

Short Excerpt:

Lestat was lounging on the sofa with his feet up, one boot resting on the back of it. Armand pushed his boot down aggressively, forcing Lestat to shift his position. 

“No shoes on the sofa,” Armand said. 

Lestat grinned at him in that boyish way of his, a grin that was half amused and half conspiratorial, as if they were sharing a joke. “It’s not as if it’s an antique.” 

“It’s my house, my rules. Take off your filthy boots.” 

Lestat raised his leg and wiggled his boot at Armand. “Now, now, you’ve hurt its feelings. Kiss and make up.” 

Armand rolled his eyes, batting the boot away. “If you’re going to be disrespectful of my property, you can go back to France.” 

Lestat put his foot down and shifted so he was sitting up. “It’s not my fault things have been painfully dull around here.” 

Armand curled his fingers into fists and uncurled them. Marius was seated on the easy chair in the corner, reading something on his iPad—probably a newspaper, as Daniel had signed him up for a few of the major publication’s digital subscriptions. Armand tried to catch his attention but Marius was absorbed. Not that it would help–-he was as likely to side with Lestat as with him. 

“And what would you have me do?” Armand folded his arms over his chest. 

A heatwave had crashed over the city, making it hot and stuffy even after dark. Humidity made the air thick like soup. While it did not affect their kind as much as the mortals who were walking around soaked in sweat, their clothes sticking to their skin, it was unpleasant, and it made Armand’s auburn hair frizz up. Lestat’s hair was not spared either, and that was part of why he was sulking inside in the air conditioning. 

But only part. 

He was insufferably broody lately, perhaps because Louis had opted to spend the first part of this little sabbatical in London with Fontayne, going to bookshops and then reading in a small flat he had there. The two had become fast friends of late and it was a thorn in Lestat’s side. The idiot. 

“You should take me around town! Show me the sights!” Lestat demanded. 

Armand resisted the urge to roll his eyes again. “You know this city as well as I do,” Armand said, which might not be strictly true, but it wasn’t as if he was a stranger to it. “And besides, I’m not a cruise director. If you want a tour guide, go bother Daniel.” 

Lestat grinned again, this time a little streak of cruelty curling his lips. “Isn’t he otherwise occupied?” 

Armand dropped his arms to his sides to resist the temptation to smack Lestat. Daniel was currently showing Bianca around the city. They’d been spending a lot of time together lately, as she appreciated Daniel’s gentle disposition and curious nature. Armand had thought it better not to ask after her deceased fledgling to spare her the pain of discussing him, but Daniel had been quick to let her talk about her loss, endearing him to Bianca almost instantly. This, of course, did not bother Armand at all, nor was it any of Lestat’s business. 

“What Daniel does or does not do is no concern of yours,” Armand said tightly. 

“But you just offered me his company.” Lestat’s blue-gray eyes flashed with mischief. “And I would enjoy it. He is such a pretty thing.” 

Heat flared in Armand’s chest. “I offered you nothing but a tour guide.” 

“Ah, but he’s already played that role for me. Perhaps I want more.” Lestat stood so he could glare down at him in a threatening way.

“If you continue to be disrespectful of what’s mine—”

Lestat tsk’d. “So possessive.” 

“You—” 

Marius cleared his throat and set his iPad in his lap. “This is meant to be a vacation.” 

One reunion had been enough for one night. After speaking to Eleni and having shown enough vulnerability for a lifetime, Everard had gone out into New York the rest of the night to get a breather. To get away not from her, but the others, only to return at sun down when half of them had already been in slumber.

But Eleni had said he- she was here too. And so the next night, at waking and after feeding, Everard tried to find her in the too familiar, feverish and stifling cacophony of immortal heartbeats and finding her in a corner of the garden, just slipped out of sight. Quiet, in thought and divorced from the rest. Some things would never change.

But they had, hadn't they. Everard, now decked out in luxury fabrics and gaudy jewellery, everything forbidden by the rules of old, while she wore the clothes of a woman, which would have been unthinkable at the time. It did not surprise Everard in the slightest but it was still a sight to behold. Even when observed from the back.

"Got into any fights lately?" he asked casually, keeping a respectful distance. If she held any resentment towards him for abandoning them, that was her right. Just as it would have been Eleni's, but she had almost wacked him over the head for even suggesting he 'left them behind'. But in practical terms, he did. But he did not need forgiveness. But he also did not need a fist to the face right away, so keeping a good few feet between him and Eugénie seemed the wiser option.

The long rear salon of Trinity Gate on the Upper East Side—a glass porch that in fact united all three townhouses along the back like the service galleries of old in southern mansions—the glass wall beside them open to a magically illuminated garden.

Artfully lighted with electric bulbs concealed at the roots of the trees and the shrubbery, and little Japanese stone lanterns here and there on patches of grass with flickering flames.

In this glass garden room with its fragile white lilies and its exquisite wisteria. (...) the shivering wisteria hanging down from the trellis that ran up the wall behind Armand, with its purple blossoms like an abstract painting of a cluster of grapes.

We were gazing on this little wilderness of thick pink hydrangea and luminous calla lilies

of creeping moon flowers on tree trunks and glistening white gardenias that gave off the most intoxicating scent.

Paradise in New York.

Don’t leave your laptop logged in and on the balcony because it rained and rain destroys computers.

A lot of love,