I got your e-mail with instructions. Thank you. I'm going to attach this text file to this e-mail. If it doesn't get through, let me know and I'll cut and paste it to another post. Please list my author's name as: Merle D. I've never had a problem with doing stories for zines before this, but the net is soooooo much more widely distributed that a bit of paranoia is normal. Thanks again for you answer back to me. Merle. TO: ravensaerie@lantabooks.com --------------------------------------------------------------------- Beginnings by Merle D. Content: M/M, Nick/LC (nothing explicit, just implied) LaCroix looked up from his pensive study of the fire as his daughter entered the room. The knowing, very pleased smile of a predator graced her beautiful lips as she approached his seat by the fireplace. "You look quite... content, my child," he observed with a raised eyebrow. "Did you have good hunting?" "Oh, very," she almost purred, seating herself at his feet. "I have found such a prize tonight." She paused as if for dramatic effect. "But I haven't taken him yet." "And why is that?" he prompted, positive there was more to the tale. He only hoped she wasn't going to make it a tedious one. It had been over a hundred years since he had brought Janette across, and her company was beginning to bore him. None of his children managed to keep him amused for more than a short time and he was beginning to lose hope that anyone could do more than that. "I think I will follow your example, LaCroix. This one I want to savor. I'm going to wait, build up the tension, tease him with promises... Then, when I finally take him it will be exquisite." "Interesting. You've never be able to restrain yourself before." He was pleased she was finally starting to develop an appreciation of the finer nuances of the hunt. "I've never wanted one this badly before." This actually sounded interesting. "Tomorrow night you'll have to show me this prize of yours." "Gladly," she said, resting her head on his leg, and gave a contented little sigh. He had fed earlier so he would not be distracted from Janette's little drama. His position in the galley along the upper story of the keep's banquet hall gave the ancient vampire a clear view of the men below. As usual, the guests were much the worse from an evening of steady drinking, and a couple were already bawling out some ribald verses of an obscene tavern song. Unfortunately, they were also quite out of tune. Most were knights, battle scarred and tried on the fields of the Holy Land. Not one seemed to be anything his daughter might desire. If this was a waste of his time, he would be seriously displeased. "Ah, Nicholas," an older knight bellowed, staggering to his feet. "There you are! I was afraid you had run off with your lady and we'd never see you again!" "It's good to be missed," a new voice replied from the door and a man entered. LaCroix stayed in the shadows, watching. When the newcomer came into view, his breath caught in his throat. Without being told, he knew this was the object of Janette's obsession. The young knight who had just arrived smiled at his comrades and took a full glass of wine from one of them. "How could I stay away, Gerard. A woman's caress..." "...Is better than anything," Gerard laughed back. "Except for a good fight." "And wine," bellowed a swarthy knight with a terrible scar across one cheek, tossing down his throat the last of his own drink as if to prove his point. "...Is all very good," Nicholas continued, "but my comrades-in-arms are my strength." With that he toasted them amid a chorus of approval and swallowed deeply from his glass. "Come," Gerard beckoned him, "join us. You have much to do to catch up." He held out a flagon of wine in invitation. As the smiling young man moved forward, the firelight caught in his hair and made it shine like gold. It was almost as if the sun had been caught in the soft strands, imprisoned in solid form. His smile was also as bright as the sun, LaCroix thought bemusedly. Then he caught himself in his idle conceit, and chided himself mentally. The boy was attractive enough, he conceded, but so often good looks were like a veneer, which simply hid the shallowness and vanity beneath. And it would be too much to hope for that the rarest and most precious of elements might be present here-- that spark of interior fire, of passion. Indeed, it *would* be too much to hope for, he told himself harshly. "There he is," Janette whispered, as she appeared behind him. Her blue eyes were fixed on the young knight with a deep hunger. "Is he not beautiful?" "And what else is he?" he asked. "What else?" The dark haired beauty turned and looked questioningly at her master. "Never mind," he sighed, knowing she would not understand. "Have you decided how long you will play with him?" "Tonight or perhaps tomorrow I'll take him," she replied, turning back to watch her prey with a feral expression. "Don't rush the experience, or you will lose the delightful tension, the anticipation," he advised. "After all, that is the whole of point of the exercise." "You're right, of course." She managed to sound properly appreciative of his advice. "But perhaps I will tease him just a bit tonight." He could tell she was starting to regret he had come. Her hunger was obviously starting to get the best of her. "By all means. I will be interested to see that." She gave him her best coquettish smile, then turned, and glided down the hall. He stayed where he was, enjoying his god-like view of the mortals below, and waited. After so many centuries, he was very, very good at waiting. The young knight's head turned and he stared at the entranceway. Janette, though not visible from his current position, had obviously made her appearance from the stir created among the assembly. There were a few appreciative comments from the drunken men, and all of them stared, but Nicholas ignored them as he rose to his feet and moved forward to meet her. Unfortunately, LaCroix's location was such that the man almost immediately passed beneath the gallery and out of his sight. With a movement too quick for mortal eyes, he flew down the stairs to the main hallway on the lower floor. Positioning himself behind a column, he continued to watch Janette's little constructed drama. "My lady..." the blond called after the woman's retreating form. "Do not leave me now that I have found you again." She stopped and turned, looking at him with an arch look. "And why should I not?" He came up to her slowly and smiled. "One so beautiful could not be so cruel. Last evening you fanned the flame of passion with a single glance. Since then, I have suffered grievously. Do you not feel pity for me?" he asked softly. "For your suffering? Alas, your wound would seem to be self-inflicted. It was none of my doing." "Nay, your beauty drew my heart's blood." He reached out and gently took hold of her hand. Looking deeply into her eyes, he raised her fingers up to his lips. He had an eloquent tongue, LaCroix conceded. At least he wasn't one of those mortals who tried to take what they wanted with brute force. Little good that would do him here, he thought with some amusement. Although, he had to admit, brute force definitely had its place. That thought suddenly made him wonder how this mortal would react to being taken by force, and was surprised at the surge of sweet, dark emotion that single thought engendered. "If your actions are as sweet as your words, gentle knight, I might give heed to your pleas." "Then put me to the test! I am ready." With that declaration, he pulled her into a passionate kiss. Long moments later she pulled back, obviously aroused. "Your lips are sweet indeed," she murmured, running one finger across his mouth. With that concession he drew her back into his arms and kissed her again. LaCroix had to admire his technique. He was obviously a lover who knew how to please a woman. He idly wondered if he had ever pleased a man. It was as Nicholas started to kiss his way down her neck that the ancient one saw his daughter's eyes change. "Oh, yesssss," she purred, obviously enjoying the erotic sensation of the man's lips against her throat. Suddenly, her fangs gleamed whitely in the flickering torchlight as her lips parted and she prepared to strike. LaCroix was shocked at the primal response this produced in him. Janette would not have him. He wanted this knight himself, to take him here and now, throw him to the ground and sink his teeth into that vulnerable throat. To know all of him. To possess him totally. Down to the last precious drop of his blood. LaCroix sent a single, silent command to his daughter. Their eyes met and he could tell she wished to disobey, to take this mortal now. Ramming the full weight of his displeasure along their link managed to shock her enough to regain a measure of control. "You will obey!" he whispered so softly only her vampire hearing could pick it up. With a little moan, she pushed the human away. "My lady?" Nicholas asked, reaching for her. She stepped away and stared at him with a frown. "Did I displease you?" "Perhaps you did," she sniffed, and turning walked swiftly away from him. "Will I see you again?" he called after her. "Perhaps." Then she was gone. He watched as the young man stood for many moments, staring down the now empty corridor. "I will see you again. Or I will burn," the knight whispered desperately. Somehow the words seemed to echo in his mind like a curse. Except it was his own voice which cried them. "Did I do something wrong?" Janette asked, obviously worried at his continued silence. "I did not wish you to take him." "You wish me to wait?" She looked confused and still a bit on edge. "I wish you to continue to tease him. Promise him paradise... and then withdraw it. Make him burn for you. To sell his soul." "But why?" "I was thinking it is perhaps time to enlarge our little family." "Oh..." She seemed to turn this new development over in her thoughts, and a slow smile began to grow on her full lips. "Mais, oui. Then I could have him for all eternity." "The idea appeals to you, then?" "It appeals to me very much." She gave him a delighted smile. "With that one... Oh, yes." "Good. When I ask the question, I want to be sure he says 'yes'. I make that your task." "It will be my pleasure. My *very* great pleasure." Raising his hand to her lips, she laid a kiss of obedience on his ring. After Janette was safely asleep in her chamber, he sat brooding in front of the fire. The sun had risen an hour ago but he felt too restless to sleep. He had not shown it to his daughter, but he was disturbed. The reaction he had to this one mortal was not normal and it worried him. No, not worried, he corrected himself; he was simply concerned. Perhaps bringing this one over would be a mistake. It would probably be wiser to simply possess him and be done with it. His memory would fade quickly enough and things could go back to normal. A small voice called out, . Arriving early at the keep, before his daughter finished her nightly hunt, he sought out his knight. One Nicholas de Brabant. He had found out that much and a brief history from one of his comrades. Not that the man would remember anyone asking those questions. These mortals were so weak and easy to control, LaCroix thought with disdain. But he wanted this time alone, without Janette, to watch and to listen. The sound of voices caught his ear. Rather, it was the sound of one particular voice which drew him forward. It was not difficult to find a place in the concealing shadows of the large hall where he could observe without being seen the two knights seated by the fire. "Why so downcast, Nicholas," the knight Gerard asked. "Are you pining for your love?" He gave a hearty laugh and then took a deep swallow from his wine cup. "I am not sure if she is my love, but I desire her more than any woman I have ever seen. I burn." "Well, bed her and all will be well." "I have tried, Gerard. But she dangles me like a toy. These last few days she promises one moment and then withdraws the next." He gave a sigh. "But that is not all that saddens me tonight." "What then?" "I visited the Hospice today." "Ah, you saw Aswald." The knight's voice turned flat. "He is dying in such pain." "I will say a Pater Noster for him." "He was the bravest of us all in Palestine. Like a lion on the battlefield. No Saracen could touch him and now he is a wasting away to nothing." "Such is the fate of man," Gerard said fatalistically. "We are born. We live. And then we die." He paused before continuing. "That is why I have always prayed to God that I die in the midst of battle. At least that way it is done with honor. And hopefully quick. To die in bed, puking your guts out..." He shuddered and took another deep drink from his cup. Nicholas' face was a study in denial. "How can a merciful God let someone like Aswald die like this? He fought for Him. Upholding His honor with his body and his sword." "Tis God's will. It is not for us to question it." "Why? Why should we not?" "Nicholas..." "What we did in the Holy Land... The butchery, the terrible waste. And all for nothing." "Enough," Gerard interrupted him, laying his hand on his shoulder. "Let it be. Think on your lady fair. Leave off with thoughts of death. Think of life. Of love." Nicholas gave a sigh. "Aye. You are probably right." He gave his friend a weak smile. "People have always told me I ask too many questions." "Now why would they say that?" Then Gerard laughed and began talking about a tourney that would be held in two days time. LaCroix was pleased with what he had heard. The young man was pining for Janette, and more, he was questioning the tender mercies of his god. The promise of immortality to one watching a good friend die a terrible death might be a powerful inducement to accept his offer of eternal life and eternal pleasure. Not a bad combination, he had to admit. And he, Lucian LaCroix, would give it to him. However, he would not mention the eternal loneliness that also awaited. That was something Nicholas would have to learn on his own. But he would be there to teach him, to show him how to deal with the empty times. The prospect pleased him. Tomorrow night would see the culmination of his plans, he thought with deep pleasure. He stood silently by the bed, keeping vigil at the sleeper's side. An incredible sense of anticipation filled him, as he studied the handsome face. Slowly, he leaned down until his lips were only inches from the pale throat. He could feel the human's heartbeat calling to him, his blood calling to him. An inch closer, and another, until he felt the warm, sweet breath of the sleeper caress his face. A red torrent of lust suddenly ripped through him and the need to take this Nicholas de Brabant here and now almost overpowered him. Shuddering, he pulled back, regaining mastery of himself. Consent must be freely given. This one would come to him because he wanted it... wanted what he had to offer. There was something else he could offer him, he considered, looking down at the tantalizing body of the young knight. , he thought fiercely. That he was toying with the idea for the first time in over a thousand years said something about this young man's attraction to him. The image of their bodies twined, Nicholas' body pressed to his, both straining for that one single moment when they would tumble into blood tinged ecstasy... He shook himself and with almost a groan thrust the seductive dream away. With the dual exchange of blood would come vulnerability, a baring of his soul to another of his kind. He had vowed long ago that no one would ever be permitted to have that kind of power over him. To take blood from a human, to know their innermost dreams and secrets, was something he enjoyed. Even the act of giving his essence for the purpose of bringing a mortal over was basically one-sided. He remained untouched and in control. He could never give away anything of himself to another, not even for such a one as this. Never. He could feel dawn approaching and he realized he must seek shelter from the light. He turned to go, but paused for a moment in the doorway and looked back one last time on the oblivious sleeper. He listened as his daughter very skillfully seduced the good knight away from the light. It was perfectly done. When he finally stepped into the room, Nicholas was ready. Their eyes met for the first time and a strange warmth spread through him. Then he noticed his knight's eyes were dark blue, like what he remembered of a clear summer day's sky. "I can grant you a gift that only the gods can grant, Nicholas," he began, putting every bit of persuasion into his voice of which he was capable. "Give your life to me and I will give you ten thousand lifetimes in return. Your existence will be transformed in ways that mere mortals cannot even imagine. Come to me." The blond stared at him long, a terrible conflict showing clearly on his face. He could see his offer being weighed, placed in the scales against his salvation. It was a certain change in the eyes which telegraphed to him that he'd won. "Yes..." Nicholas finally whispered. Approaching the bed, he looked down into his chosen son's face. He truly was beautiful, he noted with pleasure and growing desire. And it was now that he would have his chance of experiencing all of him. His one chance. With that thought he struck. It was better than he could ever have hoped or dreamed. It was perfection. It was a possession that threatened to fill his emptiness forever. Nicholas was his perfect match, a bright flame of passion intertwined with innocence. And it was that realization which frightened him to his very core-- and brought him to his senses just in time. He had almost taken too much and was dismayed at his own lack of control. The man's heart was failing, the intervals between the beats lengthening. Feeling like Adam expelled from the Garden, he tore his hungry mouth away from the siren call of Nicholas' blood. Hovering for a moment over the oozing wounds, he gently lapped the last traces of blood away from the now ivory pale skin. Even that little taste almost overwhelmed him. Paradise lost, he thought brokenly. He stood up and regarded his handiwork, his features resuming their usual impassive mask. "He's dying." Janette sounded genuinely sorrowful. "He has gone to the light, hasn't he? Like I did?" She went over to the bed and stared down at the dying man. "What will you do if he decides to step into the light? To die... as a mortal?" He dismissed the question with the contempt it deserved. "He will return to *me*!" He knew that without question now. She leaned down and kissed his cooling lips. "Oh, I want him!" He placed his hand on her shoulder and moved her aside. He was amused that she was now convinced that de Brabant was the one she had always wanted for herself. As if it had been her idea to claim him. Taking his rightful place at the young man's side, he began to speak. "I hear your heart, Nicholas, growing weaker with each beat. I have drained all but the last of your life from you." He brought his wrist up to his mouth and tore savagely at the thin skin covering the veins. "It has become a part of my own. Do not be afraid. This is the day of your death-- and rebirth-- through me." He held his wound to the unresponsive lips, letting his blood drop onto them. "Come back to me, Nicholas," he whispered aloud. Suddenly, the new fledgling grabbed hold of his wrist with a steel grip and drank deeply, savagely, of the blood of his Master. The sensation of Nicholas' mouth pulling at his life essence, taking it into himself, made him ache for more. He wished that it could go on forever, but he finally pulled his wrist away. Licking at his rapidly closing wound, he could taste Nicholas on his skin. With an act of will, he pushed the shiver of desire away. He wrapped his impassivity around him like a shield as he watched his two children grapple in the throes of their passion. Janette might possess this body for a time, he told himself, but *he* owned Nicholas' soul. Against the long, lonely ages ahead, it would have to suffice. --Finis-- (