Chapter Text
"Hello David."
When he had the opportunity to think back on it. Much much later when he was surrounded by far too much bare skin to entertain anything more complicated than base syllables and nonsensical groans. He realized that moment would be one he'd remember for the rest of his life. And not entirely for all the reasons one would initially expect.
Hindsight made it perfect, back lit and expertly timed as he looked up from Lestat's journal. Not quite knowing what to do with himself when the words sounded out - a rich, darkly layered hue of masculine and knowing. The same voice that had haunted his dreams, his thoughts, his every waking hour for just under two decades.
In reality – whether by accident or design – Marius nearly took out one of his side tables stalking into the room. He raised a brow, starting, but choosing to ignore the vampire's less than smooth entrance. Getting distracted when the immortal favored him with a lingering smile. An expression that translated into something surprisingly warm, far different from the subtle, daring little smirk that was all too present in his paintings. Revealing the sharp points of his fangs as his heart hiccupped in kind.
"Come now David, is this any way to treat a guest?" Marius thrummed, favoring the air with the aftertaste of laughter – centuries upon centuries old as faintly red-rimmed eyes watched him with clear amusement.
"Please," he finally uttered, gesturing to one of the arm chairs that dotted the cluttered office. Fighting the urge to either break down completely or run away screaming when the man nodded pleasantly and settled himself in the nearest chair with a careless flourish.
Marius de Romanus was sitting in his study.
A vampire.
Marius.
Jesus Christ.
The immortal's black coat teased the barest sliver of the ornate, reddish gold silk underneath. It seemed decidedly oriental in pattern, no doubt host to the same garish flare the man had exhibited in his paintings. Yet his fingers itched to unveil it all the same. Frustrated, even now, with what he was being denied as Marius smoothed pale fingers down imaginary wrinkles. Twitching the seams as it became clear that the garment came down well past his thighs – reminiscent of a long coat. His brow rose in spite of himself as he considered - not for the first time - how strange it was for a being who spent most of his life deliberately removed from curious eyes to have such bold tastes when it came to fashion.
He'd never been able to nail it down, at least not completely. It was tailor-cut perfection caught somewhere between the roaring sixties and the French Revolution. A victim of sleeping from anywhere from a few decades to a handful of centuries at a time. A stubborn sort of unwillingness to completely let go of the styles of yesteryear. Something even Lestat – as modern as he was – seemed to be no exception to.
Ever the lordling's son.
Was it personal pride? A complacent sort of narcissism? He had to admit he'd often wondered. Or was it something deeper? A muted cry that was being sent out to the world at large. A swan-song to the last shreds of humanity left within that yearned to reconnect?
"Would you join me?" Marius purred, pointing at the seat opposite. Somehow managing to make an order sound like an offer as he hesitated. Waiting until it was clear that the vampire was not going to move before making his way to the chair opposite. Hair prickling as a small voice in the back of his head warned him not to show his back.
Predator to prey. He mused, sinking stiffly into the butter-soft leather as Marius showed him his fangs. Smiling like the mere sight of him was a joy. Ironic how fast the tables can turn.
"I have waited for this moment a long time, David. And I think I am right in saying I am not alone in this, hmm?" Marius offered, tone luxurious as he stretched in place, splaying out across the upholstery rather than adopting the prim posture he'd expected. Marius was always so careful. So precise. Every movement merely the next step in a centuries old dance.
He frowned. Glasses sliding half an inch down his nose as he fixed the immortal with an assessing stare. Even at the concert – out in the open and fighting alongside Lestat – Marius had maintained that same demeanor. But now?
Good heavens, unless he was gravely mistaken, he could have sworn the man was almost-
"Apologies," he managed, barely resisting the urge to fiddle with his glasses as Marius examined the sharp of his nails – testing them against the polish of the antique armchair with a vacant, childish sort of delight. "But are you, ah-"
"Drunk?" Marius supplied helpfully, only making matters worse when he smiled again, the expression easy and loose on a face so used to careful composure and ageless severity that he nearly fell over with the shock of it.
He nodded. Not trusting himself to speak as the older man watched him through the spaces between his laced fingers. Resplendent and decidedly self-indulgent as Marius gave him a clear once over, lounging with an elegant sort of grace that even an Emperor could never hope to equal.
He resisted the urge to preen, to straighten his back or adjust his glasses when the vampire's gaze wavered, but not by much. Even now the man's hold on him was nothing short of astonishing.
"Quite thoroughly I would imagine," Marius agreed, coquettishly serious as he gifted him with a grave little nod. "And probably will be for some time."
He blinked. Unsure of what he was more caught off guard by. The honesty or the fact that such a thing was ever possible in the first place. "May I ask why?"
Marius leered at him. Leered.
"You may."
He adjusted his glasses, leaning forward so that his elbows were propped up against long thighs. Deciding to take the bait as Marius's eyes glinted in the evening light. The immortal had come here for a reason. Who was he not to squander the opportunity?
"I thought Vampires couldn't," he started, considering each word carefully as he resisted the urge to fidget. Struggling with the inane desire to cross his legs or maybe even space them out. Mirroring what most men often did in the subway – taking up as much space as possible as a show of dominance or threat. Eying the exposed v of the man's legs as a generous flash of reddish-gold threads sought to capture his attention.
"We can't. Or, so I thought," Marius returned, head lolling over the carved wood of the head rest before tilted back toward the cushion. "There is a sated sort of state we can achieve after a fresh kill – though the sensation is fleeting. Longer if we gorge ourselves, but this?" he added, flicking his fingers above his head as if to encompass his current state. "I don't think I have felt so alive in-"
"Ages?" he offered, lips quirking despite himself, only slightly dry as he adjusted his glasses. Resisting the urge to mirror the man's posture as an excited sort of pleasure washed over him. Surprising him with how natural it seemed. Commiserating with the supernatural. With Marius, of all people.
"Indeed," Marius gifted, a murmur of a reply that seemed directed more to himself than anything. Stretching out in the high backed chair like a feline soaking up a sunbeam. The resemblance was uncanny. "Now, I understand what Lestat meant in his ravings. When he said she tasted of liquid fire."
"You mean, Akasha?"
"So clever, David," Marius praised, tone all manner of warm, sultry and alluring as the sire chuckled throatily, neck arching – baring itself for the quickest of moments – before shielding itself again. "Such a good student."
It was completely beyond him to cover his reaction. Unable to help what he was sure was a flood of conflicting signals, hormones, scent. And to his shame, arousal.
"It is no small thing, killing one's own mother," Marius started, allowing him to keep what was left of his pride as knowing eyes deferred to comment on his lapse. "She was elemental - spirited – a being of raw power and instinct. And thus, like the gods of legend, she too was doomed to fall. For those that do not change with the world will live only longer enough to see themselves consumed by it. It was a classic blunder. Remarkably human, in fact. Don't you agree?"
He hesitated, drawing in a breath to answer, only to hold it. Watching Marius watch him as he considered how their game of cat and mouse seemed to be evolving with the vampire's clear consent. Marius was seeking to even the playing field, if only in spirit. But why? And for what purpose?
"I believe that it likely had a steep cost," he finally allowed, swallowing hard as a subtle change stole across the man's features. An emotional tell perhaps? "Other than fairy tales and the tripe they show at the cinema, all true victories do. And I doubt Akasha was one to die easily."
"No," Marius agreed, expression diamond-cut with a tone the threatened to darken all the further. "She was not. She would not stop. She would not cull her baser nature to live in the shadows with her children. She wished to rule, as she once had. To drink this world dry only to repeat the cycle into eternity. Merely for the pleasure of it. She found no joy in life, other than taking it. So, we did as we must. We paid the price for our peace. It was our heritage we protected – mortals and all they hold dear."
The lesser of two evils. He mused. Considering the politics and the moral quandaries such a thing presented. For it was a peace – a victory – of a sort. With Akasha defeated, humanity would be free to carry on into the next millennium, blissfully unaware of its near miss. And the vampires, in kind, could continue to stalk the shadows. Slaking their thirst where they saw fit. Numbers too small to pose any great risk to the species. Both continuing to co-exist – one aware, the other not – two halves of the same history melding seamless together. Quietly and sharp all at once.
He shook his head, eyes flickering up to scan the books shelves that spanned across the room. Histories beyond history. He blinked as a passage flittered through the lens of his mind's eye. The noblest battles are always fought in vain. And as if the creature could sense his thoughts, Marius inclined his head. Keeping the watchful silence.
"I am sorry," he offered, automatic but no less sincere as discomfort peaked. Wishing to understand Marius's sudden trip into the somber as his fingers itched to write down every detail.
They knew so little about the Ancients. Marius, they knew of only because he had presented them with the opportunity. Likely enjoying their mad frothing whenever another of his paintings were uncovered. Speaking coyly through the centuries through colors and aging canvas. But of the others? Some were only whispers. A mere scrap of a name idly mentioned in a stray journal entry or parsed second hand from a questionable source. Armand. Pandora. Louis. Lestat. Others, he were sure, were even less than that.
How many had died tonight?
And how much history had been lost with them?
"Yes, I am sure you are," Marius replied, seeming to shake off the sudden surge of moroseness in between heartbeats as he gazed at a small hand carved figure of the Grecian Minotaur he'd bought on a whim the last time he'd been overseas. Balancing it neatly in his palm as the eyes of the horned beast seemed to flare – wreathed with the same shadows that seemed to follow Marius like a shroud.
"I believe there were others like her once. Beings that gave rise to myth and legend. I have seen too much of this world to discount such things merely because I was not there to witness them. The natural magic of the world has, in majority, culled itself, but-"
He nearly jumped right out of his skin when the kettle he'd put on before Jessie and Lestat's arrival piped - whistling shrilly from the small kitchenette. Good lord, he'd nearly forgotten! He jerked to his feet - pathetically grateful for the space to clear his mind as Marius chuckled in clear amusement.
"Tea?" He offered, scampering off to the safety of the door jamb as the vampire tilted his head, eyes following lazily. "Or perhaps something stronger? I might have few fingers of a decent brandy lying around."
He knew everything was about to go tit up about three seconds before that cocky, sly little smile slithered back across the immortal's face. Laughing without sound as the glint of his fangs flirted with the low light. Eyes wide – glinting high in their predatory mockery.
"Why David, you surprise me," Marius purred, stretching luxuriously as long fingers traced whorls into the ruined finish of his armrest. "Are you offering me a drink?"
His jaw slackened. Only just realizing the implications of his offer – given the present company – as a thrilling and completely terrifying rush of adrenaline shuddered through him. Something that was only made worse with Marius cocked his head. Eyes closing, as if in the grips of the deepest pleasure. Inhaling. Sampling his scent with a damn near indecent pull before letting go of a rumbling growl. Watching him through heavy lids as all the words and intentions left unsaid flavored the air like a promise.
And oh-
Oh, damn.