Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

You clutched at your hand bag as you pushed open the heavy wooden door in front of you. You slipped through the cracks, pressing against the wall as you gauged the service. Within a few seconds the blond usher was beside you.

"Good morning," You whispered

"It's good to see you," He beamed and shook your hand

"I'm not too late am I?"

"No, not at all, the prayers are wrapping up now. You're just in time for hymn practice!"

You gave a relieved sigh. You were worried you might have slept through mass. As the priest concluded, he tucked a strand of long black hair away as he cracked open his hymnal, casting a quick glance to the usher. The two of you shuffled into a pew towards the back, careful not to let your heels disturb the meditative quiet. His arms, you noticed as the usher cracked open the hymnal, were very well toned and battle scared. He must have been a solider, you assumed.

The organs began to blow and the congregation collectively flipped to the designated page in their hymn books. The gent beside you held his for you to read and pointed at the song of choice. Wordlessly you took the other side and began to follow along. As you slowly picked up the melody, singing along became easy and comfortable. In fact by the time the second song was starting, you had already pulled out your tambourine and began knocking out some riddim.

The congregation turned to stare, not stopping singing but clearly uncomfortable. You didn't care at all though; you were having a grand time. That and your pew partner had begun to clap and sing loudly along with you.

When service was over you packed your bags and greeted a few folks before heading to the door. As you were about to leave though, he waved you over at the door.

"Thank you so much for coming," He said shaking your hand vigour "you know service hasn't been that fun in a long time!"

"I'm so glad! I've yet to find a church so Pentecostal as the ones back home so I figured I'd just bring it with me," You grinned

"I can see! Your sense of rhythm is rather unique" He said, completely ignoring his duties to the congregation, enthralled by your stories "Tell me, what exactly is it you do?"

"I moved here recently but I play in a jazz band,"

"You do? That's wonderful, I love jazz music!"

"You should come to one of our shows then,"

"I think I shall! Where do you play?"

"We travel around but this week we're playing Café Rouge,"

"Oh! Beside the river!"

"That's the one!"

"Well then I shall endeavour to come see you play!" He beamed brightly then gasped "Do forgive me I didn't get your name,"

"______, and yourself?"

"Roland Fortis. I look forward to getting to know you!”

His smile was rather cute, you thought. He practically radiated sunlight. Before you had a chance to further enquire an angry yell came from atop the pulpit.

"Roland! Stop your socializing and lock up already!"  Said the dark haired priest, storming down and grabbing Roland by the ear. His hair, you noticed as he whipped around, was silky smooth and expertly cared for. "We have a schedule to keep!"

"G-goodbye _______! It was lovely meeting you!" He called as he was dragged off towards the bishop's office. You returned the farewell with a confused wave.

What an adorable fellow, you thought to yourself.

So adorable in fact, that when he asked you to go out with him after Sunday service one time you followed with no questions. You waited near a bakery outside the Great Parisian Marketplace, feet taping nervously. Roland had to finish up some things in the cathedral before coming over so you’d opted to get a small pastry to tide you over on this date. Well, could you even call it a date? You had been asked to go somewhere with someone you had an interest in and as far as you could tell there may have been some interest coming back the other way, but to what degree was where you drew a blank.

‘Calm down,’ you told yourself, trying not to runaway with elaborate scenarios of horse driven carriages, 7 layered cakes and lengthy honeymoons ‘Don’t make it weird, he hasn’t made anything official yet this is just an outing!’

You stuffed your face with the sausage roll. ‘Let’s not jump to any conclusions until his intentions have been made abundantly clear!’

You took a deep breath and centred yourself. And then, before you knew it, the chipper blond came jogging over.

“______, thank you for waiting!” He called with a grin. You stared wide eyed as he drew near, only shaking of the visions of tuxedos and white dresses with a guttural sound and a smack across your cheek. “Is… everything alright?”

“Mosquitos!” You lied, rubbing at the spot “Cursed things have been pestering me all day,”

He nodded “God made all creatures equally but I do wonder why he would make something so bothersome. We ought to find you some insect repellent!”

“No-no-no that’s quite alright,” You gave a laugh, quickly looking for an out “A-anyway, here. I got you these,”

When you set the paper bag in his hand, he seemed confused for a brief second then as the oil stained paper creased within his hands and he opened the top his eyes widened. The smell was divine even from where you were standing, but what made it truly wonderful was the unadulterated joy that spring across his face as he said “Bavarian slices? I love these!”

“Yeah? Great…” You lost yourself in his eyes again. A plane could have crashed directly behind him as he ate that pastry and you wouldn’t have noticed. All you saw was the bright smile, enchanting emerald eyes in front of you and the custard smudge that had somehow gotten onto his nose. You absentmindedly reached out and wiped it off. He didn’t seem to mind at all. He mentioned something about how he often got messy when he was excited to eat, but you didn’t process the idiom. You were only drawn back to reality when he exclaimed;

“So! Onto the reason I invited you here”

You nodded, trying not to cringe over the realisation of what the passed minute or so had entailed.

“I need to buy a gift for a certain someone,” Said Roland

 “A gift?” You replied “Well that shouldn’t be too hard,”

“It shouldn’t but I’m realised in talking to a friend of mine that I actually have terrible ideas for gifts and I didn’t want to risk it,” He sighed at the memory of Olivier’s scolding

“I see,” You said, settling into thought “Well lets start with the basics. What do you know about this person?”

He shifted his weight, eyes closing as he folded his arms “Well, they’re quite into music and they’re very skilled at their work. In fact, she’s rather spectacular at it,”

‘Music?!’ You retained a gasp. ‘Calm down, that could be anyone! Keep focused,’

“I-I see. And for her age?”

“You know, I’ve never asked! Though if appearances are anything to go by I don’t think she’s far from my own age,”

You smiled and nodded, trying to ignore the bingo parlour going crazy inside your mind.

“I can’t believe I never asked,” He shook his head at himself, pondering with his gaze to the heavens “Then again in the grand scheme of things I haven’t know them all that long so I suppose I could let myself off the hook.”

You damn near fainted. The bingo parlour turned into a carnival. That was three facts that aligned to your description! THREE! You straightened your back before he turned back to catch you hyperventilating.

“I-if that’s the case!” Your voice cracked. You carried on “Then perhaps was should look for a charm necklace of sorts? Perhaps something like a violin, or a cello or some other miscellaneous stringed instrument,” You watched him carefully, trying to catch any responses to his hints “Or maybe something practical like a bass clef paper weight????”

He took a moment to process the options. “Those certainly all sound like wonderful ideas! Although the likelihood that we would find any of those things by the time the market closes is…”

“There are alternatives!” you offered, desperate now for some kind of confirmation “What about a joke gift? I find men with a good sense of humour very endearing,”

“Is that so…?” He clicked in agreement “That sounds like a plan then.  Let’s see what we can find!”

The next few hours were spent eyeballing stalls, trying on oddly shaped glasses and haggling vendors down to their best merchandise. The market closed very early on a Sunday so it was about an hour of rushing around hither and yon. You did your best to try and coax confirmation from the blond but nothing you offered got any response, the golden retriever was far too focused on the task at hand, or more accurately he kept getting distracted by alternative solutions to the task at hand. Several times he showed you a cat-shaped thingadoodle or a multipurpose whosie-ma-whatsit and with a gentle touch you had to corral him back to the state of play.

At one point in time you’d completely lost the lad and given up chasing around corners and upstairs to try and find him. Instead you took to sweeping the stalls with your own eyes. You’d been so focused on Roland’s goal that you handn’t actually looked around you. And there was a lot to see. In particular, in amongst the stacks of fake china tea sets and children's toys you spied a expertly crafted music box. You picked it up to observe it closer. The shape was like a grand piano but instead of wood, the body seemed to be made of diamond. You wound it up, listening to the clink of the strings and then let it sing. And through the air resounded the sweet sound of Bach’s “Air on the G String” on its tiny plastic keys. You softened as its sound carried on the wind, and strangely the melody seemed to summon the church boy in question.

“What do you have there?” He called as he approached then fell silent and watched the tiny keys move. He smiled and watched you.

“Isn’t it marvellous?” You mused with a volume reverent to the display “That human hands could create something so delicate and sweet?”

“You are quite right…”

Had you been not so absorbed in the sight of device clinking away and the sunlight dancing in it’s refractions you would have noticed the softening of his gaze, the stillness that washed over him as he observed you. You would have wondered ‘what happened to him that eased him so?’ after all, Roland Fortis the golden retriever was very rarely at peace, even on his days off.

“You break it you buy it!” Snorted the vendor, voice thick with tar, causing you both to jump.

“Right, I’ll put this back,” You apologised with an awkward laugh “excuse me sir,”

“I’m a woman!” She hissed

You stumbled to apologise but Roland quickly stepped in

“They didn’t mean anything by it mon amie, here I shall take that off your hands by means of compensation. Oh, and this too,” He said picking up a sealed box Magician’s Tricks and showing it to her “How much?”

“60 Francs,”

“No problem at all,”

Except there was a problem because Roland had apparently already spent his francs on some other stalls. There was a brief moment of hesitation.

“Uh…” He flashed his most charming smile “How about 50?”

She chewed at the candy stick between her teeth, gurning unimpressed “55,”

“I’ll make it 53 or we’re walking away,” You stepped in, jangling the coins within your fist.

It was a good deal, or at least to her it would seem that way. From her vantage point she knew how much Roland had, and her sort would try to squeeze him for every penny he was worth. What the vendor didn’t know was that within your closed fist was only a few metal washers. An old trick you’d learnt back in the bar. It worked every time, including that day. Without any fuss, she bagged the goods and handed them over.

As soon as she agreed to the terms you gave Roland a nod of reassurance, taking his notes and hands her the fee.

“Let’s go,” You whispered to him, quickly grabbing his wrist and power walking away as the vendor began to count. By the time you’d dipped around the corner she’d begun to scream.

“Whatever is the matter with her?” He asked, looking over his shoulder as the two of you made a break for it.

“The robber was robbed,” You said matter-of-factly

“______, you didn’t short change that poor lady did you?”

“Poor lady? I heard her offer those same items to someone else for way less than she wanted you to pay for them. If anything I gave her a tip,”

He sighed a little through his nose, expression softening again “I see, well it is certainly a good thing I came out with you then,”

After that the two of you began to make your way toward the park where Roland was set to meet his compatriots. Just as he said, by the gate as he arrived there was a handsome gentleman with long black hair checking his pocket watch. In the background you saw balloons and a crowd of people you got the feeling you shouldn’t be mingling with.

“I should be going,” your voice was crooked with nerves “it is lunch time now after all,”

“Shall I walk you home?” He offered with a gumption that told you he was ready to abandon the party you’d both spent the better half of the afternoon preparing for.

“No, no I will be quite alright. You enjoy yourself though,” You smiled extending a  hand to wave goodbye.

It took you by surprise when he drew you into his arms. It wasn’t as though he hadn’t hugged you before, Roland was quite affectionate in that way with everyone he cared about, but it was the vim and gratitude with which he held you and the deep sigh he breathed beside your ear that set your motor running again. Immediately your mind was back to white dresses, horse drawn carriages and two body tapestries.

‘It’s just a hug,’ you repeated to yourself over and over in your mind ‘Don’t make it weird!’

“Thank you ______,” His voice was soft and poured into you with the comfort of warm tea.

‘Don’t make it weird! Don’t make it weird Don’t make it weird! Don’t make it weird!’

“Today was absolutely wonderful. You really are a great friend.”

As he pulled away, hands resting on your shoulders, the weight of the glass piano seemed to infinity multiply. As if you’d been thrown from a plane and that ornament was the gravity leading you back to earth.

“Of course, anything for you.” You said in return.

And then he left, bounding over to the tall gentleman by the gate. His lime green eyes narrowed as he approached. “This is unnerving. You’re early. I was prepared to be stood here at least another 30 minutes,”

“Then it’s a good thing I was prompt! You can rest your legs Olivier!”

“Somehow I doubt that your timeliness was entirely your doing,”

“You doubt me too much my good man!”

You could only watch. Of course there was somebody else. Why wouldn’t there be? You turned on your heels and slugged back home. You could always just be friends, you told yourself, besides with work at the bar being friends was more than enough.

Chapter Text

Work that evening was a drag. The audience didn’t seem interested in the set, the band didn’t want to socialise and you were in your own head about the situation. It shouldn’t have bothered you really, you should have ben happy that you were friends you told yourself, but you still found images of him running through your mind. You’d have to put the thoughts away promptly though, there was work to be done.

You took your bow, tucked away your instrument and started towards the green room. On the way there you noticed the bar staff in carnage, running frantically back and forth with buckets full of water and spare clothes. There was always something crazy going on at the bar but you'd never seen such panic before.

"How did this happen?!" They yelled "who was it?!”

"Who was what?" You asked, pulling someone aside

"A patron was found dead on the alleyway!" One explained and for a moment you felt almost happy that were the case.

“Oh dear, was it a curse bearer?”

“Who’s to say? Regardless we’ll have to move locations again.” They rolled their eyes “Can’t wait to handle that paper work(!)”

“I’ll talk to Lucien, I’m sure he’ll have something lined up for us,”

"You’re a lifesaver ______ but don’t worry about that now, we'll handle it. Your patron is waiting,"

"Ah, right."

And just like that the anxiety washed over you again. Not because you wanted someone dead. No of course not. Your nerves stemmed from the fact that you'd been tipped highly for the first time ever.  You received tips often but the vocalists and guitarists were usually the prime choice for feasting hire. You were a background character. You kept the rhythm tight and faded into the shadows when the show was over so to finally have a patron of your own was nerve-racking to say the least.

It mattered not, you reminded yourself, just like anything else you'd do your best and finish promptly. You paced the hallway and cracked open the door and there she was. She was tall, even when seated and extraordinarily dressed despite the lack of colour on the outfit. The fan in her hand pulsed evenly, more an aesthetic piece than to keep her cool and as you pushed open the door her eyes were on it as if she'd seen you coming.

"Uh..." You looked between the empty hall and the tall woman. She was prompt. Unusually prompt for a patron of this joint. "Hi,"

"Hi indeed," she eyed you up and down "aren't you going to come in?"

She spoke as if it were her room. You followed her order without question, shuffling in with a clumsy speed and flashing a nervous grin as you landed on the sofa beside her. Your hands were fixed to your knees as you attempted to quell any nervous bouncing.

"You're not as tall as I was expecting you to be," she mused, closing her fan with a prompt snap

The jitters got louder and louder. You tried to play them off but she was not coy in her noticing your knee's hyperactivity "I-Is that going to be a problem?"

"Not at all," she seemed to find it endearing, leaning back into the seat to take you in more "small tends to pack quite the punch,"

"Indeed!" Your voice broke. You carried on. "S-so! Where would you like to start?"

"You can begin by removing this shirt of yours,"

"Right! Of course!" Your palms were beginning to sweat as you fumbled with the braces on your shoulders "I-I’m sorry I'm just a little bit-"

"Nervous?" She continued for you.

You sighed, slumping at the call out "You could tell?"

"It wasn't particularly hard darling, it's all through your scent," She slid off the paper boy hat from your head, watching gravity take your twists down "do I make you nervous?"

You shook your head "N-no not at all! It's just... It's that this is my first time doing this,"

She gave a hum of acknowledgement. You kept your eyes fixed low. You felt ridiculous. A vampire that had never been feasted on, it was strange. Being on the receiving end of a bite made you feel so small.

The woman placed a hand on your knee, drawing your attention "Would it help if we knew about one another?"

"Yes," your tensions began to fade at the concept "I think that might help considerably."

She chuckled again, drawing you closer and tracing the parts in your hair as you fumbled with the studs and buckles at your neck.

"You may refer to me as Ms Beatrice. I have lived in Paris probably longer than you've been alive," she smiled, her lips a devilish crimson, her hair perfectly coiled and shiny. Her nails, perfectly manicured in their rich maroon hue left brain melting trails along your scalp. She may have explained more, but you didn't remember "Now it's your turn,"

The shirt slipped down off your shoulders, you caught it before it went too far, hands clutched tight to opposite elbows.

"Okay... Well, my name is _______ but you probably know that already," her spare hand wandered your legs, calming the bouncing with gentle strokes "a-and I've lived in Paris for most my life-"

Your spine went rigid feeling her tongue run across your Earlobe. The action zapped the words from your throat. And as she pulled you in closer and purred "Carry on." it was like she'd cast some form of hypnosis.

"Y-yes Ms Beatrice."

The petting continued and she sampled every part of you she could. Her tongue was silken and fine like the garnets she wore, and she was sure to taste you finely like a sorbet she'd been waiting eons for.

"I...I currently live alone, by ways of family I don't have much. Luna Pulse is as close to a family as I have,"

She hummed in acknowledgement, a trail of burning kisses lead toward your sweet spot. "Is that so?"

She gave you a moment to breath before the strokes intensified. You found your body going lax at her command, thighs parting, head lulling away, burning hotter with every word she said. And Ms Beatrice gladly took what you had to offer.

"A-also," The words poured out of you without rhyme or reason, arousal starting to cloud your judgement "my eyes.... I-I use colour contact lenses because I hate their colour,"

She hummed again softly, taking a her time to sink in her fangs and listen to the dirty sounds that toppled from your lips. She sucked, drinking and drinking, finger tips tingling and locking you in. Your eyes began to haze over, breaths becoming laboured and face flushing intensely. Being drained was both frightening and euphoric. You needed her to take you, more of you than you'd ever given but you also feared she may take too much. When she pulled away she left you dripping. You were like a marble statue, picturesque and vulgar in your poise.

"There now, that wasn't so bad was it?" She cooed, almost babying you with a kisses along your jawline.

"N...not at all Ms Beatrice,"

"I have to say; now I'm curious. What colour are your eyes beneath those contacts?"

She asked leering into you not as though she were staring past the contacts but in the same way a predator looks at its prey. She stared into you as if she were looking for something deeper, something tucked away.

"My...my eyes are a ghastly gold. It's jarring to see, even for myself,"

"That doesn't sound so bad," she took your chin in hand "I want you to show me next time I visit you,"

"A-are you sure?" You gulped as she ran her tongue over her fangs. "Most find my gaze frightening,"

Without warning she devoured your lips, the force alone forcing you onto your back. Your back began to arch, needy moans creeping out as she tongued your into submission. She flooded your senses, overtaking your mind with scent and touch.

"I won’t repeat myself," she said as she pulled away leaving you gasping beneath her. She smirked, satisfied with the marks she'd left upon you. "Now then, I should be going,"

With a final pass at your neck she stood and dusted down her skirt. You watched, breathless as she headed towards the door.

"I shall see you again, ________. Expect me,"

"Yes Ms Beatrice," 

Chapter Text

There was a small bout of time where Roland was away with work. But whenever he was in the city you'd sit next to each other during service and praise loudly with much more rhythm than the average Parisian could ever hope to have.  You did notice the odd stares from both inside and outside the church but it never bothered you. All it meant was that you were starting to gain more attention. Some said it was because you were coming our of your shell, beginning to shine brightly. That was why the humans began to get jealous and more vampires began to pay for your services. One day in particular, your band was setting up for a set by the river. You wandered over, slightly delirious from the feast session you'd had before the set and slumped down next to your contrabass.

"Yikes, that guy wiped you out," Marie, the lead vocalist, chuckled at your dazed eyes "you can always see the tipper after the set you know?"

"Yes but it makes carrying everything home so much harder," You sighed as she handed you a bandage for the bleeding mark on your neck. "I'll come around eventually,"

The tipper, an older vampire who clearly didn't care for her husband, came by not long after you'd set up and tuned. She took a seat next to him and wove her fingers into his so their rings kissed. It made you wonder what sort of person he was that she'd need to tip just to get a good drink.

After some coffee and a quick warm up, the band was in full swing. You enjoyed playing outdoor sets. You could see civilians on their way to work or just out for a stroll light up as the slightest touch of music. That and having such rapturous applause after you played made you feel like a celebrity, especially when you'd get to  perform a solo like you had done that day. "L-O-V-E" always went down a treat during sunny weather. After your final bow the audience began to disperse. You were in the midst of casing your bass when you heard an applause approaching.

"Bravo ______!" Roland cheered with a bright smile, opening his arms for the usual hug and faire la bise.

"Roland! What a pleasant surprise!" You giggled “I didn’t know you were in the city today, you should have told me. I’d have reserved you a seat!”

The band all raised curious eyebrows. You were definitely not the touchy kind.

"I happened by this way and couldn't help but stop when I heard the music! I have to say you were absolutely spectacular,"

"I'm so glad you enjoyed it. Did you watch the whole show?"

He gasped "No, I only heard your solo. There was more!?"

"Yes, a whole 45 minute set give or take," You set your instrument back in its case "I mostly just keep it moving. Maria and Arlo did most of the heavy lifting today."

He greeted the other band members. You could practically feel their leering grins and cat like eyes wanting to know more.

"Do you need a hand?" Roland asked, raising a brow as you hoisted the giant onto your back "That seems rather heavy,"

"Oh no, I'm quite alright," You had said before the coffee started to wear off and you found yourself losing your balance. Luckily Roland was there to stop your stumbling

"Perhaps I could walk you home?" He suggested sheepishly

For a moment you wanted to refuse. Then you saw Maria and Arlo waving erratically a promptly changed your mind. More so for them to have something to gossip about than for your own sake you were sure.

"Well, I suppose I'll need a hand with the stairs."

And so the two of you passed through Paris and headed back to your apartment. Roland was careful to make sure you didn’t bump into anything as you turned around. It felt almost like having a guide dog with you. 

"I must ask Roland, why the cloak? It seems a little warm for it," You asked as you reversed up the stairs to your apartment.

"Well truth be told," He grunted as he set the spike down atop the stairs. "I'm wearing my chasseur uniform beneath this,"

“Ah, I see

You rummaged around for your keys and nodded. You’d heard tell of the chasseurs from your band. They were known to move in silence as they worked against vampires. That and their weapons were known to be lethal and obscene. You were lucky to never have seen one but you couldn't help but be curious about what his device looked like. If it was truly as vicious as the rumours said, the cloak would definitely put the heart of Parisians at ease. Your hands shook a little as the keys clicked in the door. Upon pushing it open you were greeted with wads of dirty dishes, castles of folded cardboard and stuffed suitcases that had been slung into the far corner. It was more like a living hole than a home.

You gulped.

"Uhm... Roland?"

"Yes?"

"Would it...  be a problem if I asked you to stay out here?"

His eyes widened and lips pouted, you could practically hear the sad violins in the background. "Could I trouble you for but one cup of tea before work? I have such a loooong shift ahead tonight,"

You screwed your eyes shut. You felt awful and his wounded child display wasn't helping. He had just helped you carry your mammoth instrument up the stairs; it would be rather uncouth to send him away just like that. After a moment of deliberation, you caved.

"Alright just... It's a mess okay I just got the place,"

He beamed instantly "That's no trouble at all!"

You shuffled through the narrow door, calling for him to take a seat wherever. You set your bass in the music room and made your way to what soon would be your kitchen. Roland perched in the emptiest chair he could find and observed the space. The apartment was large and fairly open plan. The only doors were to what he assumed to be the bed and bathrooms. The kitchen and side rooms were separated off by ornate frames with beautiful Florals carved into the off-white plaster work.

He smiled. This place was homey, much more so than the chasseur bunkers underground.  It reminded him of home somewhat. The only things free of plastic wrap in the main room were a red chaise lounge, a couple of books that were occupying the mahogany bookshelf and a gramophone. He wandered over to the device. It seemed to have a radio feature as well, the functionality switch sat just above the astromite charging point. He flipped it on and listened as some mild jazz played out scratchily. My Valentine if his ears were to be believed.


It was around then that the kettle went off and wouldn't stop going off for a number of seconds.

"______?" He called but received no answer. After further investigation, he came to find you perched on a single dining chair in the corner of the kitchen, snoring mildly.

"Oh my," He chuckled, promptly taking the kettle off the burner.

The tea set was all ready to go. You had set up sugar, milk, fine china mugs and matching a tea pot ready to serve but hadn't been able to see it through.  The gent smiled and poured the water over the leaves, watching them dance in the liquid for a while.

'They’ll be brewing for a little while,' He thought to himself 'let’s be effective with that time.'

You found yourself clutching at the hem of your blanket, the rising sun slowly waking you with a tiny dance across your cheeks. Your groaned as you looked towards the ceiling, the mark on your neck had healed by now but you could feel the pain pulsing in and out. You wished you didn't have to work again today but you knew the band didn't exactly have another bass player. As soon as the thought crossed your mind, you remembered that Roland had helped you home after the show yesterday.

"R-Roland?!" You called, hoping that you'd only been asleep a couple of minutes and that he'd come bounding out of the bathroom with a bright grin on his face claiming that he'd found something interesting in one of your rooms, but no such thing happened.

The chaise lounge creaked as you sat up and sniffed lightly. The air was seasoned. It smelled like you’d cooked the beef you’d left seasoning before falling asleep but you had no recollection of such a thing. You shuffled to the kitchen for some water and once you'd downed a glass or two your surroundings became apparent. Clean dishes sat stacked on the side. The beef had been whipped into a sweet smelling stew and a note that read "Eat and rest well! Work can be intense!" with a tiny stickman in the corner was perched next to the teapot.

Had Roland done all this?

You took the boot prints on the carpet as a yes. You screamed internally. This man was perfect. Yes he didn’t remove his shoes before coming in but they weren’t exactly dirty and he originally wasn’t planning to stay all that long. He helped you when you needed it on multiple occasions and expected nothing in return. Chasseurs were dangerous. Your conscious screamed at you. Your entire soul knew that the two of you should've been at opposite ends of the spectrum, that you should stay away from him. But your heart began to sing loudly of his kindness and his cute grin and his straightforward nature. Yes, he may have had a few brain cells missing but that just made him more endearing to you.

"I need to get him back here," You told yourself as you paced about the floor trying to rationalise the situation. The more you walked, the more you came to the same conclusion.  "I just can't let a man like that go!"

Platonically, of course. If you were to become involved with a chasseur in that way, the band would never let you hear the end of it. Heck, they’d rib your so much as breathing in the direction of a person of interest and that was a conversation you hadn’t the patience nor the energy for. You'd just invite him over for tea, you thought. A proper afternoon tea, not one where you fell asleep half way.

That was the plan and that was what you told him when you had extended the invitation. So why when you opened the door to him were your hands getting clammy?! The feeling worsened when he slid off his hat and jacket revealing the open collar dress shirt. You resisted the urge to erupt. God blessed this man with a big heart and a body to match it. 

"Come on in, take a seat wherever you’d like," You smiled and gestured to the now fully furnished lounge.

"Which seat is yours?" He asked.

"Mine?" You set the jacket on the coat hanger "Well I'm not often home to lounge around but I suppose the one beside the bookshelf?"

"Then I shall take the one beside it," He said parking in the burnt umber single "Hmm, nice and firm!"

You brought out a different tea set this time, white porcelain with red roses printed across the body. The cups, sugar bowl and cream jug had all been expertly polished and the silverware washed clean just before his arrival. You'd also set out a variety of biscuits in a floral array. You'd leave no room for Roland to take care of you on this occasion!

Setting it on the drinks upon the coffee table between you, you started "Thank you for coming today Roland,"

"Thank you for having me over! I've actually been looking forward to this all week," He grinned.

Your bodied began to burn. You tried not get lost in elaborate fantasies based around a single vague/ sentence.

"Y-yes well after last time I felt I ought to do this properly," You said "cream and sugar?"

"Three sugars if you would," He said

"I wanted to thank you for helping me last week," You handed him the cup "Honestly I'm a little embarrassed. I had you over and I didn't get to do anything to you- WITH you!"

You cleared your throat, promptly wedging into your seat with a shaky sip of tea. Roland watched. He didn't seem to have noticed your comment, only giving you an innocent smile and crunching through a ginger nut biscuit. Usually you'd be in the alley for feasting at this time. That had to be why your judgement was so cloudy. You couldn't help but ponder what his lips might feel like on your skin.

"A-anyway, I just wanted to thank you properly so anything you like, you can have. I've got biscuits in the cupboard, soup in the fridge..."

He gasped, hands clasping together "You've left me spoiled me for choice! I can ask you for absolutely anything?"

You nodded, tipping your cup "Like a genie in lamp,"

"Then for my first of three wishes," He walked to the bookshelf beside you and picked up a book "I'd like to read this if you don't mind,"

"Open Waters?" You mused as he took a seat "I didn't picture you as a romantic novelist,"

He laughed at that "There's probably a lot of things you don't picture me as."

And with that he tucked into the pages. The first few minutes were tough.  You spent every couple of minutes milling around, checking his tea and looking over him to make sure there wasn't anything he needed that you'd missed. Every so often, he'd catch you looking. You'd get flustered and wave and he'd raise his fingers from his chin to wave back. The quiet became comfortable after that. You took up your score paper in hand and set about transposing as he flipped through the pages. The only indicator that time had passed was the changes of DJ and music style on the playlist.

You were brewing a fresh pot of tea when you heard the undeniable moan of a post-novel stretch.

"_______?"

"Hm?”

"Which way is your bathroom?"

"First door on the left,"

It certainly had gotten rather late. You could hear the late night cargo ships flying overhead. You grumbled beneath the noise. It was one of downsides to living so close to the top floor. You returned to the lounge and watched it breeze by the window. Being inside of one of them was one experience but seeing them up close was a whole other thing, they were quite the spectacle to be sure.

"Astermite is quite the thing isn't it,"

"Indeed. Who'd have thought we'd see the day when humans could fly like birds,"

"Or when we wouldn't have to go for a night on the town to dance. Speaking of which," You turned to find him turning up the radio with an outstretched hand "for my second wish I'd like for you to dance with me,"

"You needn't use a wish for that," You took his hand and let him pull you into a tight embrace. Your fingers knitted neatly to your right and his left sat softly on your waist. You tentatively settled your hand on his shoulder, unsure for a moment how much contact would suffice. The two of you swayed to the rhythm. You relaxed into his into his touch after a while, locked into his emerald eyes.

"You've only got one wish left," You teased, breaking the hypnotic silence with a low voice "you’d better use it carefully,”

"Oh I already know what I'd like to use it for,"

"And what would that be?"

The lights became like warm stars as his lips touched yours. The gesture so delicate that if the ginger prickling on your lips didn’t remind you, you might not have noticed.

"Let me call you mine," He breathed

You blinked, his touch still lingering on yours "If you kiss me again, I'll consider it."

Chapter Text

'This is bad,'

You paced around your lounge, biting at your nails.

'This is very, very bad! How did this happen!’

You ran your mind over the events leading up to this very moment.

You'd been to Mass on Sunday as usual. You and Roland mutually agreed that mass wasn't exactly the place to be lovey dovey, so you went about your service like normal. You distinctly remember your knee bouncing nervously during the benediction. Roland Fortis was a Chasseur and you a vampire! That dynamic couldn't possibly work out. It wasn't as if he'd tried to hide it from you. He was straight forward with his profession unlike you were. If he knew what you really were then... you shook away the vivid vision. You had to break up with him before things got messy. You'd decided this promptly after he went home post tea the week prior. You'd been so swept up in his cute mannerisms and hypnotized by his lips that you'd forgotten the entire point of inviting him over that day was simply to thank him for his help!

"Is everything alright, Ma Cheri?" He whispered as bodies began to move around you. "You were lost in prayer for a while there."

"Oh! Just..." You swallowed, hoping a laugh would distract from the nervous sweating "thanking God for his grace and mercies!"

He smiled at you and then stood up, readying to great the congregation "I shan't disturb you then,"

"Hold on a moment," You stood up promptly, ready to make your statement.

He cocked his head, eyes expectant.

"I... I think..."

The task was simple. All you had to do was so a few small words. I think we should just be friends. It shouldn't have been hard, but it seemed your exhale had forgotten to take your words with it.

"Yes?"

You tried your sentence again and again, reforming it, overthinking it and every time you stuttered Roland waited. He was patient, even smiling with a glint off adoration as you stumbled over basic grammar. Good Lord he was so sweet.

"I think you're so adorable..." You swooned.

At that he went weak in the knees, practically melting down until he was a giggling pile of gleeful gloop on the floor. You covered your mouth. That was not what was meant to come out! Curse your loose lips!

"Awww, cut it out!" He giggled and wiggled around " You're adorable too!"

You'd gone back and forth with compliments like tossing a shuttlecock until eventually you conceded, gathering your liquid mush boyfriend and blowing the life back into him with a kiss in the corner of the hall.

Then after that he'd invited you for a date on Wednesday, his next day off, and that left you here, pacing back and forth with a drive to rip your hair out. It shouldn't have been so hard to break up with him! You were used to goodbyes, so why now was this blond haired, green eyed cinnamon roll proving to be such a task? A knock at the door paused your tirade. With a straighten of your shirt you cleared your throat and greeted the delivery man.

"Mornin’," The postie grunted, handing you small book "are you_______?"

"Yes I am?"

"Sign ‘ere please."

"But I didn't order any-"

"Bring it up boys!"

Your protests fell on deaf ears. This was the last thing you needed today. After all, you were hardly even sure what Roland wanted with you today. There was no clue as to how long he would have been waiting for you or where to meet you at all! His spontaneity was fun but you couldn’t exactly prepare much for him aside from knowing what day he’d be coming for you. You sighed and held the door as the delivery man went several men began bringing up large boxes of roses.

"Where shall we put these?" Said the postmen.

"Oh, just in here please." You hurried to clear some space in the music room. "Set them anywhere."

They nodded and followed the instructions. Then just as you were about examine the bouquet, in came another. And then another and another, and the roses didn't stop coming until your music room was filled to the brim with pinks, reds and greens. 

"That's the last of ‘em," Stretching his neck, the delivery man handed you an envelope "you sure have a lot o’ fans, don’cha?"

"I-I suppose so...." You gave an awkward laugh. How on earth were you going to get anything out of there now?! You had a gig that very night you had to practice for! You cracked open the envelope to find a cursive handwritten note that read;

'I'll be waiting with the rest of them, don't worry I've left some on the vine for you! See you there, Mon amour!'

"Ah...." You pinched the bridge of your nose. "That makes sense..."

The royal gardens were quite to popular tourist attraction. Although they were quite far from where you lived, you knew the route after having played there so often. It was beautiful place with designated sections for each variety of flowers. And as expected, right beside the rose wall stood Roland Fortis.

"You made it!" He bounded over with a bright smile "You solved my little riddle I see,"

"Indeed I did," You smiled, reminding yourself of your task when he drew you in and greeted your cheeks cheerfully. "It's a good thing you're here actually, I actually wanted to discuss some things with you,"

"Well if its discussion you'd like we'd best get some coffee!" He linked your arm and began to walk somewhere "I saw quite the lovely location not too far from here. I think it would suit your tastes perfectly!"

"O-oh alright."

The two of you walked arm in arm towards the cafe. You were in no position to refuse. You hadn't exactly eaten, and he was paying so who were you to say no?

"What would you like?" He asked, pulling out the seat for you

"Surprise me," You replied, attention taken by the string quartet they had hired to play. You watched them as you went through Pacabel’s Canyon. A shiver ran through your spine. The days of playing full things like that were behind you now but hearing certain songs still gave you chills. After a short while, Roland returned with some pastries and a sweet smelling coffee. Knowing him, it was probably that limited edition Arabica they had advertised on the front.

"Now that's an odd way to play a bass," He mused sitting opposite you "I thought they were jazz instruments."

"Not exclusively," You said as he set the cups down off the tray "They’re not common in string quartets, people tend to go for cellos, but I was in an orchestra before coming here."

"You were?"

"I was indeed."

"I never would have guessed. You seem so at one with your band now that I can't imagine you anywhere else."

"I suppose you're right." You took a sip of your drink cringing at the flat notes and poor tuning "I bet I could outplay them."

He chuckled at the fire in your eyes. "Well then, let's get you over there."

"What?  Roland no-" but he was already half way across the room, talking to the team and excitedly pointing your direction. You hurried over only to be met with 10 pages of Mozart and a warm playing stool. The players gave you a curt smile.

Of course they'd turn to the most difficult concerto of the set.

You would have backed away but that would make Roland appear to be quite the fool and you hadn't the heart for that. So you took the instrument, quickly run your fingers over the strings and nodded for the count in. The strings were much softer than yours and oily too. The bow slipped across the strings with much less bite than you'd like, it made controlling the dynamics hard (not that you could include many on a sight read anyways). Between that and rushing between docking the bow to flip pages, you were struggling. But you would ever admit or show it. The piece lasted around 15 minutes all told. By that time you'd sweated through your shirt and your hands were beginning to cramp from the stress. You hadn't realized how tightly you'd clenched your jaw until you smiled for the applause. 

Returning the bass you stood up and took your bow. The quartet seemed fairly impressed although not everyone in the audience seemed to have paid much mind.

Roland hugged you tightly and abruptly "You weren't wrong Cheri, you definitely outplayed that band. I couldn't take my eyes off you."

"I'm glad..." You sighed, not bothering to resist his embrace. You could almost feel your stress fade away into his arms. You didn't realise how much energy it'd take doing such a thing.

"Am I interrupting something?" You didn't recognize the voice but you recognised diamond ring and expensive dress. This lady was your highest record tipper, Ms Beatrice.

Feeling your body tense Roland hardened his gaze. "Can we help you?"

"No not at all, I just came to speak with the musician."

"She's a regular to my band," You explained trying to even out your tone, standing to face her "Is everything alright ma'am?"

"Yes, yes. Wonderful musicianship as usual. I simply wish talk to you outside."

You wanted to decline but then she flashed you a paper note. You swallowed hard.

"...I'll be right back alright? It shouldn't be too long"

Roland was taken aback by that. Something about the way you slipped away from him, the dull look in your eye as you trailed out of the door. Something wasn't right, but he trusted you and he trusted that you could handle yourself. He'd wait long enough before coming to check on you. Besides there were pastries that needed to be eaten.

Within the alleyway nearby, you'd begun shakily loosening the ribbon around your neck.

'This is ridiculous,' yYu chewed your lip 'I shouldn't have to do this if I'm not working...'

But that tip was substantial. 500 francs now and 500 in post. That would easily cover rent this month and then some.

"Whatever is the matter dear, getting cold feet are we?" Her impatient voice and leering eyes caught your attention.

"N-no not at all! It's just..." You fiddled anxiously with the buttons across your chest.

The right thing to do would be to leave, to turn around and go. But you found yourself grounded in place, eyes darting between the crumpled notes in your hand and the alley's entry way. She chuckled, drawing you into a bewitching embrace.

"Don't worry dear, your little friend won't know a thing," she ran her hand through braids, letting the tips twist and fall from her fingers. "Besides, I've been dreaming of your blood since the first day I tried you."

Your eyes fell as she purred those words to you, hooded with conflict. Her hand ghosted over your shoulders, stripping the shirt away.  You shivered as her tongue roamed your collar in search of where to take from, where you'd react the most. She knew she'd found it when you whimpered. She dove into you, moaning at the way you arched and jittered beneath her. You bit back whatever sounds you could, nails digging into her dress as you struggled to so much as stand. Your knees clenched around hers, it rubbed against your dampening thighs making you whine loudly.

How long did it last? How many times did she drink of you over and over, listening to your uncomfortable arousal? You'd lost count. Slumped against the alleyway wall, you limply retied your collar. Which way was up? When did she pay? The world seemed in disarray now. The sound of distant footsteps against the cobblestone streets and idle chatter floated in and out of your conscious. Times like this you simply wanted to fade away.

"I was wondering where you'd gotten to." You felt a strong, familiar pair of arms pulling you upright "Are you alright? You seem rather pale."

"Roland...?"

When had he gotten here? Just how much had he seen...? He seemed worried. Your rich ochre complexion was now looking washed out and muddy and you were cold... alarmingly cold to the touch "Let's get you to a doctor."

"No!" You cleared your throat "I-It's nothing, just some nausea. It'll settle down soon."

"Alright." he linked his arm with yours. You walked quietly for a while before he asked "You said you wanted to talk about something?"

'Oh right. I was planning to break up with him…' You thought, eyes fixed on the ground. You hesitated for a moment. You had to rip the band-aid off. That was your mentality, but right now you wanted to be selfish and enjoy his warmth. "Y'know I don't really remember." You chuckled "brain fog."

"Ah. That happens to the best of us." He looked around the area with a curious gaze. "Perhaps it'll come back to you if you retrace your steps?"

"Actually," You stopped, eyes drawn to a shop you recognised with a green hanging sign "I'd like to go in there, out of the sun, if you don't mind,"

He didn't exactly know what the rustic exterior would lead to but there was no reason to decline the offer. Besides, he was curious what could lie behind the tinted windows and foresty colour scheme.  The door creaked open as you pushed it and chimes jingled lightly.

"Lucien?" You called walking in. There was no response "Perhaps he’s around the back…"

The words went over Roland's head. His eyes beamed at the sight before him. From the ceiling hung violins of all sizes and colours and the walls held all manner of wind instruments that he had never seen before. 

Seeing his wonder you smiled "You can play them you know."

"I can?!" He gasped "There's so much variety I simply don't know where to start."

"Percussion is fairly straightforward. There's a drum kit around the back. You can multitask and you're good with your hands so maybe start there?"

He lit up at the concept, instantly bolting around to the percussion area and trying his hand at every piece he could find. Just as you expected, he was good with the drum kit but he didn't seem to take to be it. In fact he toyed with the glockenspiel, castanets and even the cowbell without drawing to any despite being very good at all three. It was around the time you were fitting him for the marching drum that an irritated voice came around the corner.

"What's with all the racket?!" A tall, older gentleman with all the hair on his head overtaking his lips stormed in. With one look at you at you and a flick of his suspenders he shifted the pipe between his teeth "Oh it's you. Shoulda known,"

"Nice to see you too Lucien," You chuckled and approached the elder vampire. Roland watched quietly as the two of you conversed. "I was in the area and figured I'd stop by."

With a nod, he took a pack of butter mints from his pocket and offered it to you. He tipped his head but didn't divert his attention from you "Who's that?"

"That," You looked over to your golden retriever "is Roland Fortis." Lucien sized him up as you leant in and whispered happily "We're on a date,"

He took a long drag of his pipe "that so?"

You cleared your throat, his disinterest stifling "Now, I know what you're going to say but he's really nice. Genuinely. I mean you wouldn't like him, but you don't like anyone."

Lucien was one of the vampires that had taken you in. In fact, of all the vampires and even humans you'd lived with, Lucien had custody over you for the longest time all told. He was responsible largely for making sure you had a place to rest and a meal to eat, even if that meant sacrificing his own. It wasn't uncommon back in those days for you to sneak over to his music store after school and play around there. He'd curse you out of course, but only because he wanted the best for you. So when he lowered his voice and said; "Cut him off." instead of screaming bloody murder you knew he was serious.

"I'm sorry?"

"Cut him off. He's not a good match for you."

"I was going to but..." you began, toying with the hem on you run sleeve

"But?"

"But nothing, I did do it! I-I mean I tried to..."

He pinched his brow "Your resolve is softer than butter in a hot skillet. The longer you drag this out the harder it will be ______, why not just write him a letter or tell a friend to handle it like you used to?"

"I can't do that to him! He's different, he...!" You gripped the desk "He makes me happy. Like... Like really happy,"

"It's a rouse."

"It's not!"

"He's playing you kid."

"What would you know!?"

"I know he's a Chasseur."

"...How did you know that...?"

"It's my job to know these things. S'how I kept you safe all these years, s'how I've kept all of us safe," He tossed out the dead tobacco, watching as your head hung "Listen, I get that you like him, makes you feel all tingly inside, but once he finds out what you really are it'll be over."

Your mouth dried up. This wasn't new information, you knew this all along. From the moment he's confessed about being a Chasseur you knew this wouldn’t work. You knew what you had to do. You just didn't want to.

"Put yourself out of your misery kid, it's for the best."

Lucien was right. He often was right. You knew what you had to do, what you had to say and yet, the very concept hurt to process. Finally you nodded and turned around. But Roland wasn't there. In fact, you hadn't even realised that he'd stopped tingling the chimes until you turned to find he was no longer in the store. You prayed he hadn't heard you and ran away.

"I'd best be going," You said with a clearing of your throat with a stiff upper lip "If he gets off too far, finding Roland again could prove quite the nightmare,"

Lucien nodded, turning back to his back office and you into the streets. Your feet dragged. You didn't want to do this. It only became obvious after talking with Lucien but you really, really didn't want to do this. You didn't know everything about Roland but you wanted to know more. You wanted his smile and his warm embrace, his curly hair and his terribly timed jokes. When had he woven so deeply into your being that cutting him loose felt like a death sentence?

After a while of walking you recognised the deep purple waistcoat jacket in the distance next to some kind of stall. He seemed to have an umbrella in his hand and two well-dressed ladies in conversation with him. Your heart panged. Had those heathens lured him away from your outing?! Activating your vampiric hearing you began to listen in.

"What brings you to this side of the city, Sir?"

"Oh, just some simple errands. It's the little things that make the day go by easier."

"Oh it's the little things alright."

Something about the way she giggled, you didn't like it. You picked up the pace, jealousy manifesting as a strut on your way to take your rightful place as the centre of his attention.

"There you are," You called, spinning on your heels into the gap between Roland and the sow. You took to fixing the collar around his neck and settling it down his front "Honestly, I take my eyes off you for one second and you're half way to Gevaudan! I was worried you'd gone home..."

"_-______!" He stuttered a little, thrown off by your lingering touch "I saw the parasol vendor going by and thought you might like one."

"For me?" You delicately reached out to take it from him, deliberately hamming up the reaction "Roland, you shouldn't have~"

"But I did! I immediately thought of you when I saw this design and had to get you one. Try it out, how does it feel?"

You popped open the lacy tent, swinging it wide until it sat above your head. The sunlight, once harsh, was now calming and danced across your skin like falling leaves.

"It's perfect," you smiled widely "Thank you so much Roland"

His smile was wide and toothy, almost as if it couldn't grow any wider. You could practically see his tail bobbing side to side, happy that he could offer you some assistance. The moment was cut short when you heard a forced cough behind you. How persistent were these idiots that they didn't take the first hint?

"My apologies, I didn't see you there." You lied, assuming position beside your goggled partner.

"______, this is Selene and her friend Roseline" Roland explained.

Her blue eyes dug into yours. She smiled, attempting to bare fangs she didn't have. "It's a pleasure. Roland and I courted not too long ago actually."

A cheap blow. If you didn't have a brain, it might have riled you up. Instead you nodded a greeting "The pleasure is all mine. I have to thank you for letting him go. I'm glad to have Roland to myself now."

Her brow twitched "I don't see why you would be. He's so.... Clingy,"

"And that bothers you?" You moved closer, sharing the parasol with him and leading him to settle him arm on you as was comfortable.

Her pale skin began to flush. Even her friend fiddled with the ringlets of her hair, eyes uncertain as they darted between the fingers at your waist and the fan in her hand.

"B-because..!" Selene quaked, covering her stress with a shaky laugh "It's indecent! Who wants to drown in advances at midday? It's stifling! The man has no off switch! He's loud and obnoxious and whines like a toddler!!"

Roland's breath hitched. Your grip tightened on your parasol. You felt your blood run cold, a frost seeping from your feet into the pavement ahead of you as a growl began to surge from within.

"It's alright, ma cheri," Roland whispered.  You could feel him urging you to walk away. But that wasn't happening. Not after that conversation. This heathen chose the wrong one.

"There's nothing embarrassing about being in love. What's embarrassing is not knowing how to establish boundaries with your partner. Unless..." You paused for a moment as things began to fall into place. When it all became apparent, a devilish laugh began to surge from within.

"Sorry," You wiped your eye when the outburst began to verge on insanity "It just occurred to me. If you two were truly enamoured, Roland being himself wouldn't bother you at all. But you were never in love with him in the first place were you?"

The fan in her hand snapped under the shocked grip.

"So I was right then! Honestly, how utterly childish, to think that you could use a fine man like this as a walking trophy. What was it? His bright eyes? The way he talked? The money? I mean you look like a gold digger. Your attire is so... dated. You definitely need a new wardrobe,"

"Y-you-!"

"I? Am having the time of my life with the man you lost and wish you had? Yes, I'd say that was quite accurate," You smirked as steam floated from her ears.

"I'll have your head!"

She stepped forward screeching, aiming to slap your face but tangled her feet on the advance. Her face moved from rage to fear as she felt her feet slip from beneath her. By the time she blinked you had her into your grasp, held above the street but the scruff of her neck fit to fall at any moment you saw fit.

"That was quite the fall Mademoiselle Selene, are you feeling alright?" You gave a charming smile. For a moment the flush on her face became softer "I must say, for a woman with such a tiny brain you certainly do weigh a lot."

"H-how dare you!" She began to writhe

"Now, now don't make this harder for me, I may not be able to pull you up. It would be a shame for this lovely dress of yours to be ruined"

The girl swallowed hard.

"I'd advise you to mind how you speak of people's partners Mademoiselle, some women can be awful jealous." You giggled innocently, head turning at the sound of wheels and hooves in the distance "I didn't know there were taxi carriages in the area, did you Selene?"

"...y-you wouldn't..."

"I might do."

Her pupils dilated under your reddening gaze "p..." She started "pull me up...! "

"Oh dear, that didn't sound like an apology...," you pouted a little, indulging in the reluctant panic as the horses barrelled ever closer.

"What?! Are you insane?! I said pull me up you piece of-" There was no need to endure such verbal assault. You'd just let her meet the air for a moment and grip her again when she screamed out "I-im sorry!"

"You are?"

"Yes! I'm sorry for talking down to your partner like that!"

"Don't tell me, tell him."

"I-I’m sorry Roland! I shouldn't have spoken I'll of you when I caused the problem now pull me up okay?!"

And as requested, you whipped her up into your arms and sat her out of harm’s way and set her beside Roseline. 

"A word of advice," You sighed, removing. The glove that had been on her and tossing it into your bag for laundry "Prince Charming is a fallacy. If you're looking for a perfect man, you won't find one. But you will find someone pretty damn good. Although in your case, you let him go before you knew what you had. It's a pity really."

You snorted a laugh as your eyes settled back to their natural hue. You turned to see your partner staring at you in disbelief. "Come Roland, we've places to be,"

"Y-yes of course!"

"You didn't have to say all of that," he spoke up eventually as you sat by the river "it was all in the past anyway,"

You sighed "I know I just... You shouldn't let people like that talk down to you. When I heard her saying all of that something inside just wouldn't let me sit still. " You clutched at your chest, heart still tightening a little even now. You chuckled "that's silly though isn't it?"

"It's love is what it is," he gaze settled downwards as you flushed. He found himself relieved, settling his weight into your shoulder as he burrowed into you, arms around your waist

"L-love?!" You stuttered for a moment.

"Yes," his voice was low as he took a deep smell of the shampoo and faded perfume on your neck "that feeling that you have- that I have- it's love. That's why I hold you so tightly. And that's why you defended me when I couldn't do it myself."

You hadn't really dated before, properly anyways. With all the tipping you hadn't really had the chance or emotional capacity to do so. But it felt good to be realised that way.

"Roland Fortis, my lover...." You mused quietly. You could feel him smile as you tried it out on your tongue. Even his toes wiggled in his boots. "My lover~" you repeated again, watching his tiny dances.

"And you are mine. Truly, now and forever." He kissed your cheek and settled down again. You watched as the geese swam across the lake before he added softly "______?"

"Yes Roland?"

"Thank you for standing up for me."

You smiled, stroking through his hair "If it happens again when I'm not around all I need is a name."

You both laughed at that.

"That reminds me," he said, shooting upright as if he'd been reset at the core "you said you had something to tell me!"

"I...I did?"

"Yes, before coffee earlier. You said it was important."

"Oh that..." You said, mind lingering on the mission at hand "No, it doesn't matter."

"Whaaaaaaa?" His mouth dropped open as he whined "but I was so excited!"

"It was nothing important really."

"Well now I'm curious."

"Curiosity killed that cat darling."

"Well tickle my chin and whisper to me mon amour I'm all ears," he giggled, leaning forward with a teasing smile. The nickname had him all worked up.

You had to admit, his tenacity was admirable. So with a roll of your eyes you obliged, forefinger running the expanse between Adams apple and chin as you leant forward. You felt him flush and swallow as you brushed your lips against his. "Monsieur Fortis."

"Yes, ma cheri?"

"I don't think I'll ever have enough of you."

Chapter Text

"I don't think I'll ever get enough of you."

That sentence echoed in his mind from the second you stepped out of sight. He craved it, needed it like one would need a morning coffee. The memory of its melody was like sweet incense. It sang to him sweetly during his morning run and even danced around his mind as he polished his Durandal. He couldn't un-see it nor could he un-hear it.

"I don't think I'll ever get enough of you."

The scene replayed in his mind evolving more and more each time. Your touch, delicate across his skin as you whispered those words for him, only for him. A secret. A fire that set had his heart racing. You pulled him in, lips pressing lightly against his. So gentle, so sweet. He wondered if he could kiss you again, would it be such a docile experience? So he did. He kissed you over and over. Your cheeks, your lips, your forehead, your neck, your fingers. He savoured your purrs and whispers, the coy pressing of your hands on his chest.

Cotton creases beneath his fingers. Your name creeps out on the winds as he snakes across your body. There is no bed here as one might day dream about. No, here in this reality there is just the river and soft grass. He blows at your ear teasingly smirking content as you whimper, bouncing between needing him to stop and keep going.  Your blouse, unbuttoned and unruly, is now sweat stained and slipping down your back. But he's a gentleman so he pecks your cheek and fixes you, checking your temperament and before continuing. He stares into your eyes watching for your response momentarily. Taking the shrinkage of your hair and the flowers trapped in its curls. His fingers move about you like artistry, deflowering and learning you’re every move. You’re beautiful to him. Your tight breath’s as sweet as bird song. Your chest rises and falls as you catch your breath, the aroma of the earth melding with the sweet scent of your lips. Then your lips part and-

"Roland!" Olivier slaps him back to reality "Good heavens man what is wrong with you?"

"Oh hi there Olivier, when did you get here?" He sets down the papers that at one point he was reading. Each word brought you this mind.

"I have been calling you for the past five minutes." His fists burrow into the table. "Is something clouding your judgment?"

"Oh it's nothing for you to concern yourself with my good man."

"If you're involved I have to be concerned." He groaned and tossed a report on the desk "Captains are being called out to Rouen. We have to leave within the hour so get yourself together and get down to the garrison. And don't even think about slipping out for one of your strange little errands, I haven't time or the man power to search Paris for you again!"

"Yes, yes I know. I'll be sure to keep my errand nice and short."

"No Roland, no errands!"

"That's what I said."

"I swear to- I'm serious Roland!"

"You always are! That's why you have those wrinkles!" He shooed him out of the door "You ought to get ready yourself old boy! Cheerio!"

The office door clicked behind him. He leant up against it. The metal work behind him was cold, ice cold. Like hypnosis he was back with you, no longer at the river but inside of a candle lit room on his knees before you. His eyes were covered but he could feel his arms bound above his head, short of breath. There was sweat running down his back but no shirt to stick to it. There was blood somehow, his own but there was no hurt. In fact he was in heaven. It was cold in that room, your eyes heavily bore into him but the embarrassment only served to heat him up. You ran ice across his chest and spine, grinning at the tight teeth and goose bumps it left behind. The blindfold began to slip away as his body jittered in its bounds. The smile on your lips- those lips that he craved to taste. He touched his own, snapping back to the office light. He gripped onto his button up, willing himself back to reality with a dry swallow.

"Focus Roland." He hissed to himself. "You've work to do." 

Chapter Text

You'd come to recognise the fading scent of tobacco and the stick of dried alcohol beneath your boots as a sign of stability. It meant that you'd survived another night without being the prize item of feast. It didn't happen to you regularly but still every time it did, a shiver ran through you like a shift on the breeze. That feeling. That soul crunching, toe curling feeling that vampire's held so close to their cores, you couldn't quite get to grips with it.

The singers were off in the corner smoking and drinking again. Since they had no equipment to pack away they would often spend the clear up eating bread sticks and talking about their feasting sessions. Today it was Maria's turn. She went on and on about her client's "size" how he swept her up until her feet could barely touch the floor and ravaged her like an animal. 

"Do you mind?" You hissed over towards them, trying to make sure your music sheets were in order. "I'm trying to concentrate."

"Don't be such a stick in the mud ______. You're just jealous because you weren't up for bid tonight." She took a sip of win as you gasped in offence.

"I am not! I just think that you're being rather explicit. You know if the boss found out you'd be in big trouble."

"Well he's not going to find out." She set down the glass and let the cucumber garnish fall into it "And if he does find out I’ll know exactly who told him."

Your grip tightened on the sheets. She laughed and walked over to you.

"I get it kid, you’re concerned about my safety or whatever but we with a high request rate have systems in place with lookouts and safe words so when a client wants to get a taste we're not disturbed."

"S-safe word?" You jolted away as she picked some fluff from your crown, a very unwelcome intrusion.

"You don't know what a safe word is?" She laughed and leant in with a low voice "It's a secret code word that you can use when your client is 'crushing the floret' if you catch my drift. Not like you'd know much about that."

"I know enough!" You protested.

"Oh? Like what?" You could feel the band leering in with cat like eyes.

"Like..." You mind flashed back to Ms Beatrice's first visit, thighs burning at the memory of her roaming fingers and simmering lips. The steamy restrained as she pinned you down and left red lip prints upon your own. "L-like...!" You saw Roland next holding your hand in a white room full of flowers and roses. He'd kiss your lips and then your cheek, working lower and lower in a way that he'd never done but after hearing Marie's stories you couldn't stop thinking about what it would be like if he would.

"You don't have to defend yourself if you haven't had your first bite yet. Nobody cares. You're still a baby, what ___ years old? You'll get there." She gave you a condescending pat on the head and walked away muttering something under her breath.

That Marie. She acted all cute and kind but she wasn't. 

You shook it off and promptly made your way out of the bar. Luckily you were able to leave your bass there since you'd be going back the next day for practice. It meant that you could enjoy the orchestral symphony of birds singing at sunrise without worrying about the limitation of encumberment behind you. As you crossed the bridge out of the high street you decided to stop and take in the view. It was cloudy, slightly overcast so you couldn't exactly see the sun but you could feel it removing the tenebrific effects of night every few seconds. It was beautiful, truly beautiful. It would've been better if you could share it with someone but alas you were alone, and you really needed a cup of tea too.

"Well what great fortune do I have today?" You heard the chirpy tone and turned to see none other than your  wide smiling, woolly haired swain beaming at you from over the horizon. He waved and jogged over, cheeks slightly red from what you assumed was the cool breeze.

"Roland!" You ran to meet him, instantly melting into his arms. It was a fresh uniform he'd put on. You could tell by the mild scent of sea salt and daisies on his cloak. "I'm so happy you're here..."

"Why's that? Is something wrong?" He pulled away and looked you over "Do you need me to talk to someone?"

You chuckled at the way he said that. You didn't know he had such an over protective side. "Not at all darling, I just like seeing you."

He relaxed with the exhale, a minor tension in his shoulders melting away with you upturned lips and cheerful grin. He wasn't wearing the beige overcoat like last time. It was in his arms as if he was about to put it on or take it off for whatever reason. Below it was his uniform. And oh how it suited him. You could ogle him in that black garb all day. He was smiling, holding your hands in his. The gauntlets that you thought would be cold and tough all over were surprisingly warm and gentle, a soft padding on the palms. The coat, long and elegant, gave him just the right amount of curve. It had to be a crime to look that handsome.

You wanted to hug him again, take in his joyful scent, so you did, diving into his arms earning a surprised jolt. He didn't seem to complain, only settling his arms around your waist.

"What brings you here?" Your voice was low and enthralled

"I was looking for you. I must tell you that I'll be going away for work today."

"Will you be away long?"

"Mmm… Perhaps a week? Perhaps a little less."

You grumbled a little. A whole week without seeing him even once? A few weeks ago you wouldn't have cared but the concept today didn't feel right.

"I'll miss you..."

"I know Mon amour, which is why I brought you this." From within his pocket he pulled out a neatly folded handkerchief.  You took it your hands, pressing the green cotton to your cheek and examining the blond embroidery. "To remember me by whilst I'm away."

There was a slight hesitation as you sniffed it. Fresh.

"It's something the matter Mon amour? Do you not like it?" He pouted.

"No I do like it! It's just-” You stopped yourself “Oh never mind. It'll sound odd."

"Please tell me ma Cheri. I want you to be happy."

"Well I... It just doesn't smell like you? I know that's an odd thing to say."

He nodded slowly "Not at all. I purchased it fairly recently. Have no fear, there is an alternative!"

He began to wriggle his hands into his white holsters about his chest, brows knotting as he rummaged about what sounded like glass. His fingers seemed far too large for what he was attempting to do, but he did eventually pull out what appeared to be a pocket knife about the size of his forefinger.  He fidgeted with it a while, jumbling around with it in his fingers before unravelling a cloud in his fringe and slicing it clean off.

"There now, that ought to be enough. Now you'll have me with you wherever you go." He grinned, placing it in the hanky. He was smiling so proudly at you but you couldn't be more dismayed. You shrieked, hands shakily reaching for his face. "Oh dear, whatever is the matter? You look as though you've seen a ghost."

"I have seen a ghost!"

"Really?! Where!?"

"The ghost of Dandelion!" You whined and tiptoed up to the now split ends spiking out of your favourite golden mushroom "What have you done to him!"

His eyes widened as you dragged him down, running your hands through the fluff as if to appease it. Your fingertips were smooth and gentle, tingling against his scalp every so often.

"Don't worry, we can fix it. Give me that knife okay?"

Your worrying eyes, your concentration, your delicate touch as you fussed and scolded him. He'd never seen this side of you before. And quite frankly he wouldn't mind seeing it again. His eyes fell soft as he took you, bending slightly so you could reach easier.

You took a deep sigh. "Okay, that ought to be fine for now. At least you won't look like a porcupine whilst you’re off on your crusade."

As you set the blade back into its pocket you felt his hand wrap around yours. You jumped and met his eyes.  Holding your hand tight to his chest, he smiled at you. He'd smiled at you before but his eyes had never carried such fervour and adoration as that precise moment. His serenity could tear silence through the night.

"W-what is it...? Something on my face..?" You muttered when the tension became too much. You could feel his heart beating through your palm.

"Oh Mon amour," He purred, forehead pressing against yours "you hardly know your magic. If you'd only say the word I would forgo this mission and spend every waking hour with you."

You were stunned to silence. Your knees quaked and your heart screamed under his ardour. You could barely even breathe as your stomach knotted up tight. Your lips fluttered as you’re reached for the words.

Oh, your lips.

Those lips he'd been dreamed of for days. So close and sweet looking, plump and glistening like fresh cherries. If he kissed you here, met your mouth with all the heat he'd dreamt of, could he make them curl cherubic glee? Part them and indulge in the squeals and whines from within? He wanted to. But he wouldn't. Not here and not now. It wasn't the time. Besides, Olivier would be counting the seconds until his arrival. Instead he settled by pressing a reverent kiss, a promise, to the back of your hand and smiled at you.

"Alas, duty calls." He said and savoured every moment he could before letting you go.

"W-wait...!" You as he began to step away. It was weak, little more than a whisper, but he heard it and stopped to look with a surprised glance as you latched yourself around his arm, pressing it into your chest. "Come back safely okay?"

He’d seen that look, this scene in his mind over and over. He remembered in the dream, casting Durandal aside and making you sing a salacious song. He remembered it well, but that dream was not the present. He took a moment to recompose himself.  He couldn't sink into those fantasies. Instead he pulled you in, gripping you with a tight and bright hug. "I'll return as promptly as I can. And when I do, I'll hold you in my arms just like this."

You nodded, safe for that sweet moment in his grasp. "I'd like that. I'd like that very much."

Chapter Text

Tobacco crested through into the back of the carriage. Lucien smoke so often whilst riding this thing that the curtains had begun to smell just as strongly of pipe as his clothes did. You really had to get around to cleaning this thing but that was something you would think about after you’d figured out how not to get crushed by all of these boxes and equipment.

“Lucien!” You groaned, pushing the saxophone box off your lap for what must have been the sixth time this journey. “I am going to be buried alive if I sit back here any longer! When will we arrive!”

“Shortly. Very Shortly.” He said, wood between his teeth. Lucien’s description of shortly could be anything from two minutes to two days depending on his mood. On this occasion, he wasn’t too far off though. The carriage stopped and he came around to open the door. “This is it?”

“The Old Boot?” You read aloud the sign in front of the rustic pub. “You want us to play at a place called The Old Boot?”

“Yup.” He said bluntly.

“Who, in their right mind, would want to spend their evening at a place called The Old Boot?”

“The same crowd that spend their time at a place called The Hairy Lemon.”

“Touche.”

Despite the horrendous title the inside of the bar was fairly pleasant. The bar staff seemed all to be friends of Lucien’s. Vampires and dhampirs that had it rough and needed help getting back on tier feet. They were all very kind with wide smiles and awestruck eyes as you entered.

“You’re here!” A young bar maid walked over, her kitten heels clacking against the honey brown wood. “Thank you so much for doing this. We’ve been losing clientele rapidly lately”

“Well, Darcei, this scamp will fix that for you.” He slapped your back “They play like a house on fire. Lights up the whole neighbourhood.”

You gave a nervous grin and a bow. It was always strange to hear Lucien compliment you in front of others. He was so reserved you never knew what he thought of you until he sung your praises elsewhere. You didn’t know that he did it fairly often when you weren’t around.

“What do you play?” The barmaid looked up at you, an analytical glint in her baby blue eyes “I bet it’s something pretty like the violin.”

You chuckled “Close but not quite. I’m a bass player.”

If there were a hole in the ground, her chin would be halfway to Timbuktu. “Contrabass? You mean as in the big thing?” She mimed playing the instrument. When you nodded, she looked you up and down and all around as if something about you didn’t correlate to the instrument of choice. “Goodness I never would have guessed!”

“No,” You smiled awkwardly “Most people don’t.”

“They take requests,” Lucien said, walking over to an ashtray and emptying his pipe. In an instant you whipped your head around, a disapproving glare burrowing into his skin. He seemed thoroughly unbothered, simply responding by taping the pipe and adding “Just saying.”

“Would you mind playing something for us?” Darcei clasped her hands around yours and pleaded “I just adore show tunes.”

“O-oh but we still have to unload the bands equipment so-”

“I’ll unload the equipment.” Lucien, who had somehow already brought in your instrument and music book, interrupted “I will handle the rest.”

“But Lucien, your back might give out” You smiled, faking nice whilst you hissed your discomfort to your guardian. “I really ought to assist you.”

“I’m hardly four hundred, kid. Don’t age me.” He thrust the instrument into your palms with a smile that said he wasn’t budging. You knew he wouldn’t, but you had hoped that perhaps he might.

With a sigh you set about tuning and preparing for your guerrilla live show. As soon as you plucked the first string, workers began to poke their heads out from behind doors and curtains, emptying their hands with a curious gaze in your direction.

“Have you any requests?”

Darcei’s eyes began to glow brightly “you wouldn’t happen to know any Lesley Gore would you?”

Diamonds are a girl’s best friend~

By the time your set was over you’d managed to amass quite the audience. Work men form the street clamoured at the windows to sing along whilst the bar men took pews in the plush velvet seats in the corner singing along to with whatever requests they made of you. Bravo’s and applauses rung loud and clear throughout the street and the more they cheered the more people came by. Lucien even smiled from his position at the bar.

“Oh bravo,” Darcei applauded “that was absolutely fabulous!”

“Glad you liked it,” you said, setting the instrument down. Initially you’d planned to take a seat and stretch out your wrist, but it was clear the audience wasn’t going anywhere anytime. Instead, you made your way to the bar and took what the bartender brewed for you. If the clamour and demand outside was anything to go by, you’d be doing a second set very soon anyway.

“What’d I tell ya?” Lucien raised a brow as you plopped beside him “Told you they were a knockout.”

“Knock-out doesn’t even begin to describe it!” He beamed “If we can retain even half of those customers when doors actually open, we could save this place!”

“Save?” You repeated

He nodded “Revenue hasn’t exactly been the highest lately. The landlord was going to kick us out if we didn’t do something about it and now with your music we have! You really are a hero ______.”

“N-no I didn’t do anything special at all, it was only music!”

“For us it was much more than that.” Sliding a plate of hors d’oeuvres (tiny berry topped pastries much too beautiful for The Old Boot) in front of you he added “Thank you, really.”

It took you a moment to take it all in. Your adrenaline was till pumping from your set. It had been a long time since you’d played and sung at the same time, you had singers in Luna Pulse to do that now, but you’d enjoyed it as impromptu as it was. The chaos of your voice breaking midway through a piece made it endearing, nobody seemed to care when you pitched a song too low or too high. In fact, they only sung louder to cover for you. It was fun, a total riot.  You hadn’t felt joy like that in such a long time. You looked down to the summer fruit pasties in front of you, slowly taking one between your teeth and enjoying the flavour. You didn’t need to offer one to Lucien, he’d already helped himself. You didn’t much mind though. You felt appreciated, like your music meant something-like you meant something and that was a feeling you wouldn’t replace for the world.

“I suppose I best set up for round two,” You said, wiping the crumbs from the corners of your lips.

“Break a leg!” You heard the bartender call from behind you.

On the way over, Darcei rushed up to you and handed you an envelope with a mild rosemary fragrance. You understood without her having to explain what it meant. You discreetly folded p the note into your pocket and nodded.

The second set would have to wait. You had a client.

"-and they call him Pickle Rick! It was the funniest thing I'd ever read Olivier!"

"As amusing as that may be to you Roland, I personally don't get it,"

"Let's swing past the library! I'm certain you'll find it an extremely entertaining read. Perhaps I should recommend to Georges and Maria as well.”

The two chasseur captains were on their way to a small outing. Olivier had opted to walk with Roland to make sure he wasn't distracted by anything and turn up obscenely late to see the others. It would be an embarrassment to himself as well as the Chasseurs of Paris if the Jasper made a fool of himself in front of his subordinates. They were making good time too until the Obsidian noticed he was walking alone.

"Roland!" He called behind him, noticing his eyes glued to something across the street. "Roland come on, we need to keep moving!"

Roland didn't reply, his eyes tracing something in disbelief, body frozen in time.

"Oh, for the love of- ROLAND!" Olivier stormed over and grabbed him by the collar "Roland, I swear to God if you stop to smell the roses or buy some useless padiwack one more time I-"

"Olivier," he said, voice low as he watched you stagger away across the street "I need to handle something. Go on without me."

"Oh no you don't," he began to drag the man off by the jacket "what you need to handle is this meeting. Whatever it is I'm sure it can wait. Now come on,"

"But Olivier, I-"

"No!"

Eventually Roland conceded, regaining his usual cheery energy and meeting with the other Chasseurs. But the whole time he couldn't shake you from his mind. That deranged look on your eyes, that wounded lilt in your step... What had happened to you? 

Chapter Text

Whatever preconceived notions you have about the meetings that chasseurs have, disregard them. Astolfo learnt that fairly early in his captainship and suprsingly, he had yet to get the hang of it. Being seated at the round table still felt strange to him. Especially when The Amber was staring so harshly with her unhinged smile. He didn’t like her much. She was like a stray cat, always looking around as if to steal something valuable when he let his guard down. Not like he ever would. Especially around someone who wore clashing colours like her.

"Can I help you?" He loathed to ask but pushed it through a barbed grin.

"You can't" was their taunt reply.

'Charming' He thought to himself as he took his seat. The sooner they could get this over with, the better.

The three captains stationed in Paris had all arrived more or less together, although Roland was off socialising somewhere at that exact moment in time. The good thing about travelling as a group was that both Astolfo and Olivier weren't exactly social butterflies. They weren't as much antisocial as they were Asocial. If there was a choice of staying in the barracks and going out to the theatre, more often than not the barracks was the location of choice. That was unless, of course one Roland Fortis was involved.

When the clock began to chime, all twelve heroes took to their stations and waited for the chair of the meeting to begin the call. This time, it was Amethyst – Amelita Duvent.

“Firstly, thank you all for coming on such short notice. Please, accept these refreshments from our sponsor, Vin du Vergier.”

Amelita was an unusual woman in that she was, despite her faerie like tone, rather masculine I build and demeanour. She was tall and broad and thick battles cars littered her skin. Lower ranking chassuers with plates and bottles stacked high in their arms filtered into the room and made their way comfortably beneath her outspread arms without much hassle. Quickly, each one set in front of the champions a glass of wine and some accompanying biscuits.

“They wished to offer these drinks and biscuits as a means of thanks for all of our hard work. So long as we do our par, they’ll do theirs.”

“Enough with the niceties,” Oliver rolled his eyes. “We didn’t come all this way for drinks and biscuits.”

Her purple eyepatch glinted his way. Had she not been on the other side of the table and hosting the whole affair, she might have had Olivier in a choke hold by now. Instead though, she narrowed her eyes.

“You’re not wrong Obsidian,” she spat the title out like hardtack. “The Vergier conglomerate has given us a new lead, and potentially it could be the end of Rouen if we don’t act fast.” The servers scuttled out as the air grew heavier and heavier. “They seem to have located The Ancient Bone flute. “

A gasp ricocheted about the room.

“The bone flute?! From Babel?” One man cried

“Wasn’t that disposed of? “

“How do we know its the true flute and not some replica? “

“Calm brothers and sisters, calm” The amethyst quelled the room “Whether or not this is the true bone flute we cannot run the risk of summoning vampires to this city, there’s too much at stake! Our plan is as follows...”

Plans were subject to change and manipulation. The Jasper could sense it in the air. Something wasn’t right here. How could a legendary item that had been lost for decades have suddenly reappeared on a completely different region than it was discarded in? The facts weren’t lining up. And it wasn’t the first time the church had covered up one story with another more palpable one. There was of course the chance that this bone flute was a fake, but that wasn’t a risk Roland was willing to take.

“Stop it. “Olivier said low.

“Stop what?” Swirling the wine in his glass Roland replied.

“I can already tell you’re plotting something.”

The Jasper hadn’t the mind to bother denying it, he was far too tied up in his thoughts and pans of what he suspected was going on and how he might be able to stop it. It was obvious the lethal haze that overtook his eyes.

“Don’t even think about jeopardising this mission.” He hid his sneer behind the deep rouge hues of his wine glass. “We cannot risk upsetting the Vergier house.”

“The Vergier Household...” Roland repeated “Tell me Olivier, what exactly would they do if this mission were jeopardised?”

“I do not know, and I haven’t a mind to find out.”

“Hm...”

“Roland.”

“Yes, yes I know.” He smiled, accepting the document that was handed to him and scanning through it before sliding it along. He had what he needed and the fog returned. “I’ll keep it all above board.”

Chapter Text

Bones cracked, bodies buckled, and blood painted the town. This was the third vampire site that he had cleared out this week and the bone flute had yet to be found. Roland's eyes were hollow. There were families here, vampire families but still families none the less. The blood of parents and children alike littered his Durandal, and their screams rang in his ears. But there was no vengeance in them, no it was all fear. He'd learnt to release his guilt over time, never once let it consume him greatly. This was his God-given duty to protect the people of France after all, there was nothing else to it.

Or so the church would have them believe.

You see despite their outlook on life and their upstanding behaviours before the public, Roland had noticed records that didn't line up and he knew first-hand the lengths the church could and would go to simply to achieve their ends, whatever those might be. The lower floors of the catacombs we're not a place he remembered fondly, nor one he wished to return to. His memories in them however opened his eyes to an unnerving truth that he couldn't openly share with the other Chasseurs; god's will had not been at the centre of their motives for a long time.

He made his way through the city complex overturning houses and offices in search for this bone flute and found nothing. The wind and his thoughts were his only companion. It was rather odd, they whispered to him, that all the captains should be dispersed to find an item such as a bone flute. Legendary or not, surely it would have been more effective to deploy a smaller unit of captains with a tightknit group of Chasseurs in their command than all twelve of the most formidable warriors in the force across the country in search of something that, whilst powerful, is but a myth waiting to be proven real. He pulled down a book from a shelf in the library, flipping through the natural herbs and remedies listed in its pages, hoping that somewhere in this vampire library there might be a story or a clue about the bone flute. Something that would prove it was much more than an old wives used to make young Chasseurs in training take their 'vitamins'. But there was nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

He raked his hands through his scalp scraping and grumbling, praying and pleading that something would point him in the right direction.

And then something did.

"Sir Roland!" He heard the patter of feet, the excited boyish chirp of young Astolfo. He lad was also dirty from war, but unlike Sir Fortis he lotioned in the blood wash proudly "Sir Roland?"

Taking a breath, painting a smile, he stepped out of the library door (or rather what he'd left of the library door) and smiled at him. "Astolfo! What brings you here my son?"

"You need to come with me," He panted with a crazed smile "I think I've found it."

Chapter Text

"Hark the herald angels sing, glory to the new born kind~"

The harmonious voices echoed out of Notre Dame guided by warm candle light. The organist had taken sick that day, and being as the organ was Marquis Machina's favourite instrument, you'd taken it upon yourself to learn some whilst you were in Altis to win his favour. Not like you needed much help with that anyway, but it was something he could brag about to his Marquis comrades. His wonderful new adopted child and their magnificent music skills, that were certainly far superior to any other children that might be brought up. You weren't exactly note perfect, but very few people understood the workings of the many pedals and rose of keys anyway, so it wasn't like the congregation could be choosey.

When you'd finished you stretched up tall and smiled, opting to listen and watch comfortably from up high rather than running down the stairs again. Besides, if they suddenly called for another song you'd only have to run back up the stairs and that seemed like too much work for your liking. It was nice though, watching the small colourful gowns and winter clothes bobbing below. You could see your dandelion from you here sat beside his pink and black friends. He turned to wave at you, you waved back and giggled. When you noticed he wasn't turning away, blew him a kiss. Almost as if it became tangible in that moment, he grabbed it out of the air and put it to his lips.

You rolled your eyes. 'Silly boy.'

Olivier seemed to share the same sentiment, jabbing him in the side and peeling his attention forward.

"He is certainly an interesting fellow." You jumped at the voice behind you.

"L-Lord Ruthven?!" You stood up promptly bowing to the trio behind you, hoping they hadn't noticed your flirting. "And Luca and Jeanne! To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Well, my nephew wanted to see you before the festive season was over." He explained, a look in his eye that seemed to be reading you deeper than you would have liked.

"Lord Uncle! When you say it like that it makes me seem childish..." His face flushed and he grabbed the hem of his little green coat.

You exchanged a glance with Jeanne, then approached Luca brightly.

"Well I personally am rather glad to see you Luca, because..." Your voice swelled with a rising cadence as you dug into your bag. "I have something for you!"

"You do?!" He gasped, knees bouncing excitedly. He leant over, attempting to look into the bag.

"Tadah!" You said, pulling out a beautiful fabric bag.

Upon opening it, he pulled out a black and white hardboiled sweet. "Are these... humbugs?!"

"Just like I promised. There's also pear drops and toffees in there too." You rested your chin on your hand as he happily munched away. He'd been so excited when you told him about hardboiled sweets last time you were in Altis, so you had to spoil him with a few. "Now don't forget to share, Luca."

"Oh thank you ______, I'll treasure these!" He beamed, offering some to Jeanne who joyfully indulged and Ruthven who humbly declined.

With the service concluding you walked the trio downstairs "Do you have any plans for the evening?" You asked them

"Not many, perhaps stopping for something to eat before heading back." Lord Ruthven said

"Back where?" Roland approached, standing at your side. A quick look was enough to dissuade the hand that threatened to sit upon your waist "Are these friends of yours, ______?"

You internally praised for his ability to read the room. "Ah yes, these are my extended family from out of town," You half lied "we were just talking about things to do on Christmas Eve."

"Oh well it's a pleasure to meet you! My name is Roland Fortis!" He smiled, shaking each of their hands with the correct amount of reverence.

"Ruthven." Lord Uncle replied, a threatening tightness to his grip that didn't seem to bother the blond. "This is Jeanne, and my nephew Luca."

"It's a pleasure to meet you." Jeanne opted to curtsy, still somewhat uncertain of the chasseur whilst it took both of Lucas hands to hold Roland's.

"It's a little early now, but come evening time the lights in the city are truly wonderful. We simply must take you to see them!"

Jeanne's eyes lit up "Yes. Please take us...!"

"But first, we should eat. My friends and I were about to go to for lunch if you'd like to join us?"

"That sounds wonderful, please lead the way."

And so you gathered Olivier and Astolfo and began walking. Slowly the group fell into sections. You stood beside Luca and held his hand at his quiet request, talking to him and Jeanne as you walked through the foggy streets, Roland and Ruthven took the lead, a nice conversation bouncing between them, and naturally Astolfo and Olivier were together. You had planned to try to win them over today but that would have to wait.

"Whatever is the matter Master Luca?" Jeanne asked when she noticed him pouting.

"Oh it's nothing..." He replied low.

"But you seem awfully upset," Her brows knitted.

"It's just..." He sighed, voice weakening "There's no snow... And it's Christmas..."

Jeanne seemed stumped. "I'm sorry Master Luca, but snow doesn't always fall during the holidays."

"I know, I know..."

She looked at you helplessly. 

"Oh Luca, there are many other fun things we can do without snow!" You offered as you stepped into the café.

"Like what?" He looked up at you

"Like..." You looked around hastily and then pointed up at the green sprig appended to the door way "mistletoe!" 

Roland who had started towards a table, froze. Like a ravenous wolf he turned and scoured the room. There was mistletoe, LOTS of mistletoe! And he'd been so holly jolly with Uncle Ruthven that he'd missed it! And what's worse, he was now watching you lay little kisses on the cheeks of Luca and Jeanne! He buckled, losing his footing.

"Are you alright?" Ruthven asked helping him up

"It's no wound I won't recover from..." He groaned, holding his heart. There would be plenty of chances to get his kisses! He'd just have to find them...

Fate was certainly cruel. It seemed everyone was getting kisses except for him. Astolfo got a kiss on the forehead when the two of you went to the hang your coats up and Olivier kissed hand when you crossed paths to get to your seats. Even Vanitas (or rather, Vincent) held mistletoe to his tray and stole Jeanne's lips when serving much to Luca's dismay. It wasn't fair! By the end of the feast Roland was little more than a mound of disheartened flesh.

Lord Ruthven offered kindly to pay and when he did you snuck in beside your boyfriend.

"Are you alright?" You spoke hushed "you seem pale."

"I've lost the will to live..."

"What? Why?"

He flopped his head onto your shoulder "every is kissing my love except meeeee!"

You had to laugh at that, stroking knee beneath the table "but you kiss me all the time Rollie,"

"Not under the mistletoe!"

"Is the mistletoe really so important?"

"It is! It's crucial!"

"Well, alright then." You sit him up "I promise we can kiss under the mistletoe. I'll even wait under it for you. Okay?"

He nodded, excited by the possibility "of course!"

"Right then, I suppose we should get going of we want to catch the lights." You announced and promptly made your to the door where the mistletoe was hung, making eye contact with Roland. "come on then."

Unfortunately for the chasseur, the others on the table were also trying to leave promptly and as such he got stuck within the crowd. Vanitas, seeing this and being the gremlin that he was, grew a mischievous smile on his face.

"Oh Gilbert!" He sang, collaring an unsuspecting Noé "come on we need to put the signs out the front."

"But I already did that this morning..." He said back confused "You don't even work here. Can you let me go please?"

"Don't be ridiculous, we need to go out right away." He hissed, wasting no time in moving past you to the door. "Wow, would you look at that! The three of us are under the mistletoe! What a coincidence!"

You looked between the vampire and the doctor, a suspicious look in your eyes. "Coincidence indeed."

"Well, you know the rules ______," he shrugged positioning himself and Noé in just the right place to watch Roland boil.

You held up your hands, blocking their advances "Now hold on a minute you two, I cannot be kissed by two people at once. The mistletoe only works when there's two caught under it."

"You have two cheeks though?" Noé mused

"Indeed they do," Vanitas agreed and without much more debate the two of them pecked your cheeks much to Roland's chagrin. The blond practically melted into a ball on the floor. Vanitas gave a devilish smirk "Two for the price of one!

You sighed. Vanitas was truly a menace to society. 

Your group made their way to town, merry and laughing and enjoying the many festivities. Roland made it a point to walk beside you from then on, not wanting to waste the chance to kiss you under the mistletoe. Except unfortunately, there wasn't any. Anywhere. It was almost if the streets of Paris had been wiped clean of it! And it certainly wasn't from lack of looking at all, you had your eyes peeled! Or as peeled as they could be whilst hosting your vampiric guests.

Eventually, the night came to a close and you walked the royals to the barrier, leaving the chasseur trio to their devices for a while.

"Mistletoe, Roland? Really?" Olivier rolled his eyes "You're pent up over mistletoe?"

"Yes, mistletoe!" He sighed "And all day I've yet to catch them under some!

"But why? It's a silly tradition anyway."

"Olivier, I personally have witnessed you using mistletoe as a pick up line first hand. Successfully, might I add."

The Obsidian choked as Astolfo returned with cups of mulled wine.

"I wouldn't worry about it Sir Roland," The young one added "it's a poisonous plant anyway."

"Agreed," Olivier added, taking a sip "mistletoe is nothing special. Just kiss them if that's what you want to do."

The jasper sulked. He blew bubbles into the warm wine and hunched his spine. His upset was so strong that ice practically emanated from his feet and his desires ebbed from him in a murky aura. The other two shuddered. Astolfo had never been around for one of Roland's funks but Olivier had seen several. And they could last literal days until the desire was satisfied or replaced. They both looked at each other and sighed heavily. They had to do something.

It was around then that Astolfo noticed something. A young lady manning a festive flower stall. Her stall store mate had just left, and miraculously hers seemed to be the only stall with mistletoe decorations. He made a bird like chirp to draw the Obsidian's attention over and the elder nodded, making his was over whilst the garnet steadied the depressed highlighter.

She wasn't bad looking, long brown hair braided to the side with a face like a china doll and petite figure. She wasn't exactly Oliver's type, but there wasn't anyone he couldn't win over.

He combed through his hair on the approach "Excuse me Miss, how much?"

"A single rose is 2 francs and a bunch would be ten." She explained with a welcoming grin

"No no, "he chuckled, he leant forward and used his eyes to gesture with a low tone "I meant for the mistletoe."

"O-oh it's not for sale."

"For francs, perhaps not. But I can think of other ways to compensate such as beautiful as yourself~"

It was as simple as that. The deed was done. He took the branch and made his way back to his compadres, leaving the young lady burning in her stupor.

"Roland!" He yelled. The jasper turned around, still sullen "Take this," he shoved the plant into his hand "and stop souring my alcohol."

"For me!?" The colour slowly returned to his eyes as he realised what he had "Oh Olivier thank you, thank you!" He practically jumped on the poor man.

"Thank Astolfo, not me! It was his idea."

"Is that so?" He turned to the pinkette

"I-It's not like I was looking for you or anything it's just... w-well I saw the stall there and I thought it looked like the plant you kept going on about." He crossed his arms and looked away, the flushed picture of embarrassment.

Roland, proud as ever, pulled him into a tight embrace "thank you my son." Was all he said before darting off.

You were seated comfortably at the water fountain where you'd originally left the others. You'd been there for a while and it was beginning to get to the point where you couldn't feel your fingers.

"Where did they get off to..?"

"Mon amour!" You heard not to far off as Roland bolted towards you.

"There you are! I was beginning to think you'd left me!" You called standing up.

He stopped in front of you, briefly catching his breath, frantic "You have to help me!"

"What's wrong? Did something happen!?"

"I've been caught!"

"By who?!"

"By this!" He waved the sprig above you "This mistletoe caught me under it's spell! I can't break free!"

Your panic slowly dissipated as you realised what was going on. You folded your arms and raised your brow. He wiggled the mistletoe again, silently asking you to play along. You obliged.

"Oh no! Whatever are we to do?"

"You have to kiss me," he wheezed, faking poison "it's the only way."

You gasped "The.... The only way...?"

"Yes," He pulled you in at the hip "the only way you ease this relentless ache I feel in my heart whenever I lay eyes on you."

Your hands slipped over his shoulder, eyes fluttering closed "Do what you must..."

And he did. Your lips pushed together and parted as the cool winds blew and fireworks popped behind you. You didn't think it would be so special but Roland was right.

Kisses under the mistletoe were certainly something.

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Everything became was a daze. Each day blended into each other. You remembered following Ms Beatrice out to some kind of store. She'd replaced your culottes for some high waisted slim fit trousers in maroon. They weren't exactly your favourite colour but you weren't in a position to go bossing her around after what had happened that day.

That was the first time. She would come around every couple of days. Whenever there was a bid for you, you knew it was her. After all nobody else has ever wanted you as badly as she did. In those dark murky corners with your bodies pressed tightly together she'd shower you in praise and sink into your skin. She took you from all sides, bending and bowing you, making you queen of a different kind of music.

The days started to develop a kind of formula. You would go to The Old Boot, set up and do your set. On occasion you'd receive song requests and you'd do them justice as best as you could. Then when your band finished their first set, there would be a note slipped into your palm, bathed in that rosemary scent that you'd been trained to follow. The meer sight of the envelope set your heart racing and your thighs clenching.

"I'll be right back," you'd say trying to keep a straight face but it would never stay sober.

"Someone's happy." Usually that was Maria, eyes green with envy.

"It's payday," You'd chuckle waving the hefty envelope "how can I not be?"

"Don't forget your safe word." You'd hear her his quietly behind you.  You'd ignore her though, mind too full of thoughts of previous nights to be concerned with her jealousy.

You would make your way out into the alley way and she would be waiting to hold you in her pillow cool arms. You'd sink into her chest, drowning in that rosemary aroma and ask;

"How was I today?"

And ordinarily she would pet your head and say: "splendid sweetie, just wonderful." But lately she didn't seem to be enjoying the show so much. In fact today day she even said:

"It was unbelievably dull," with a sigh. "I suppose it wasn't entirely your fault sweetie but you did play a few dud notes and the pace of everything was just so slow!"

You felt yourself begin to deflate, arms slipping away "Oh I-I see..."

"It's alright dear it wasn't you, it was just your music choice!" She fixed your hair behind your ears "I like classical better than... Whatever that was."

"I'll learn it!" You said decisively, meeting her eyes with determination "I'll learn those pieces for you, whatever they are just name them."

Her eyes widened a moment. You hadn't noticed them before but they were so dark brown that they were almost black. They seemed satisfied as you said that, glowing in the dark as she pinned you against a wall. Your groan on impact spread a hungry grin against her face.

"Good, that's what I like to hear."

You hit the shower almost as soon as you landed at home that day. Your head was pounding and your back was stiff. As you scrubbed away the sweat from a day of hard work you found your touch gingering as you came across your neck. Ms Beatrice had taken you from the same spot so many times recently that you were beginning to wonder whether the puncture wounds would ever heal up. The purple mark that was left there was beginning to become like a second skin.

It was fine, you told yourself, if you asked her to take from your other side she would surely be amenable to it.

The sun was beginning to rise when you stepped outside, just barely breaking through the darkness. It was good thing you had blackout curtains. With a cup of hot tea in your hand you finally got around to opening your mail. You'd picked it up at the start of the week but since you'd been staying at The Old Boot lately, you hadn't been home to open it. There was a little more in the post box that you had picked up to day but none of it excited you. You never got anything particular important anyways. Everything was your standard. Monthly bills, advertisement pamphlets, the odd anti vampire flier and then something unusual. A brown envelope with a forest green wax seal.

You set down your cup and observed it. You didn't recognize the handwriting nor the paper quality. It wasn't too heavy, just a single letter it seemed. Who could it have been from? You weren't exactly the main denizen for fan-mail. Cautiously you peeled open the seal and drew out the letter inside and as soon as you peeled it open the perfume it hit you.

'Roland!'

The scent was undeniably his, musky and diligent. You pressed it to your nose to make sure. He eased over you, you could practically feel his tender embrace over your shoulders, hear his deep breaths of relief as he held you close. You took in his handwriting. You'd never seen it before, the floating cursive with tiny loops and tittles that spread more like strikes than dots. You envisioned him before you as you read through the prose.

"______, my love!

I would expect a letter in return but I cannot disclose my location, for both of our sakes. I had to send this via a private courier, would you believe it! All very covert! Like something from a Bond novel. Anyways, that it all beside the point.

I miss you so much. I hope this finds you well and you're not working too hard. There isn't a day that goes by that I don't wonder how your doing. I hear your melodies in my head as I'm walking, see you sat beside me as I rest. I long to feel your touch again and hear your voice. I am working diligently against the vampires but a Chasseur's work is never truly done. Vampires do not rest and it seems something dastardly may be on the horizon.

We are slowly making our way back to Paris. By the time you receive this I believe we may well be packing up to return. As excited as I am to see you though, I won't be off duty for a long while it seems. There is much to do in our city based on what we heard in the meetings passed. So whilst I may be in Paris I don't think I will be able to see you at least for another two weeks. I just wanted to let you know since I'd be gone longer than expected and I didn't want you to worry.

When I return, we'll have the most wonderful outting. I know just the place for us to go. I just hope it isn't closed by the time I get off duty!

I miss you everyday and I think about you every night. If I could embrace you through this paper I would.

I can't wait to hear about all that's happened.

Truly yours,
Roland Fortis."

You squealed, reading it again and again and again. He was coming back! Not so immediately but definitely coming back! The upset you felt towards his comment on vampires was nothing compared to the elation of potentially seeing him again. Two weeks would simply fly by! You had to get ready. You had to prepare a song for him and set aside an outfit, one that showed off your best assets. Oh! And bake him a cake too! There was so much to do! Yyou found yourself running around your room, setting things out for him. It was until you were trying on dresses that you remembered the bite. That great dark swelling mark on the sode of your neck. That would be a problem. You couldn't let him see it but at the same time you couldn't lose Ms Beatrice as a customer, she was your main source of income (as well as some other things)!

You flopped down onto the bed faced with the quandary that, whilst you knew was bound to happen at sometime, you hoped wouldn't happen too soon. What would be the right choice...?

"Let's not think about it now..." You said to yourself, promptly settling into the sheets "You don't think straight when you're tired...."

Chapter Text

Days off were few and far between lately but every so often you'd get to have a lie-in, and it was always your favourite time of the week. Whilst children were up at school and businessmen were typing away at their typewriters, you were lounging in your bath tub blowing bubbles and listening to your radio. You had Roland's letter in your hands. You'd been careful when getting in, making sure your towel was nearby on the laundry basket so you could dry your hands before pulling it out and reading it over and over and over again. He was so sweet! You squealed, kicking your feet as you cast your eyes over the calligraphy for what must have been the thousandth time before peeling up and taking to the lounge. You'd been clever and set your coffee to brew slowly as you lazed about beneath the bubbles and now, wrapped in your big fluffy towel, you could finally enjoy it. 

After you picked up the post again.

It was strange that you'd get post straight to your door. Usually they would go to the mail box downstairs, unless your neighbours were so kind as to bring up for you. Even then though, having an envelope slide beneath your door was... perculiar at best. 

Regardless you knelt down and examined the chartreuse envelope with its boysenberry wax seal. Coloured envelopes were rare and expensive, there wasnt anyone you'd know with the budget to casually be sending full colour envelopes around. Or that was what you thought until you picked it up and the aroma of rosemary clung to the air like fog after tropical rain. It was thick, dense and humid and it was all around you. She was all around you. 

'No... no there's no possible way she could find this place...' You reassured yourself, resolving to throw the note in the burner. You froze in front of the coals. Perhaps your reaction was too severe... You had to know for sure. 

With quaking hands you peeled it open, cold sweat slipping down your spine as you peeled it open and from within, as you expected, appeared a cheque for 10000 Francs.

The sharp edges began to morph and shift, spinning into your entire feild of vision.  You cast it to the ground, the feel of the paper on your skin burning like acid. You ran, rushing to seal the windows and backed into your room, slamming the door shut. 

"No... No no no.." You clutched tightly to your arms "How?! How could this be here?!"

You couldn't stay here any longer, she knew where you lived! Was she waiting at the door? Was already she inside?!  Your heat threatened to force itself out of your lips. You bit back the bile in your throat. You had to leave. If she was here, then... You shuddered to even think about it. It didn't matter what it was, clothes, a shirt, trousers, something, you cast it over your back, grabbing your keys and running out. Where to? You didn't know. Just as far away as you could.

You felt yourself begin to shiver. If she were close by, she would have bitten down by now and yet you were pushing through the crowds. It felt wrong, to be moving when your body craved being pinned down. Legs tiring you began to slow down as your neared somewhere quiet, an empty street not too far away. You dragged yourself along the wall, world spining, breathing heavily.

Ms Beatrice was here? Now?! It was her routine, you'd expected it somehow, your circadian rhythm lining up with hers. But certainly you hadn't thought, no, you hadn't wanted her to. Roland was coming back soon, surely he'd be back to see you. How would you face him? Iy woud have come down sooner or later but it had barely been a week since Roland had sent you his note and now... you writhed, hyperventalitaing against the brick. It felt so wrong to have to smile in Roland's face when you knew the dirty things you'd done in his absence. You couldn't betray his trust. You had planned to call it off with Beatrice, but now she was here and you had barely had time to think about how to do it.

Your collar was tight, your back was damp, your breathing was heavy and everything hurt. Erratically you began to tear it away.

Then it happend. That smell, it hung over you. Rosemary grinding your insides.

"So eager to see me?" Her shadow loomed ever closer.

"No..." You gulped, hands falling pathetically limp at your side.

"No?" She pulled up your chin on her fan, voice sweet but venomous "Whatever do you mean by that?"

"I... I..."

The lace tickled down your throat, tracing a line down your exposed chest. Fear and confusion rang through your mind, using you as the clapper in its hellish melody. She tapped your face "Out with it."

Your voice quaked, tears welling up "I... I-I can't..."

The lady huffed into laughter "You can't? Oh darling, we've been over this," She forced you back, strangling your wrists above your head, eyes glowing red as she made you one with the brickwork "you can and you're going to."

Roland giggled on his way up the stairs, a bouquet of flowers and fresh cologne on his skin.

"This has to be the most brilliant plan I've ever had!" He said, light as air as he bounded to your apartment.

With the small bonus he'd gotten from the job in Rouen he would be able to splash out on today's date, especially fitting since he'd been a way nearly twice as long as he'd expected. He wanted nothing more than to indulge in everything you had to offer. To hold your hand and walk side by side along a busy street, telling stories from your time apart and laughing at odd things in the market. To visit a cafe not only for coffee but for glorious spreads of sandwiches and cheeses. Fancy cafes with small bites weren't entirely his speed, but if he'd learnt anything from Olivier it was that when treating your partner no expense should be spared. Besides it would be nice to spend time doing nothing more than staffing into your eyes over a delicious meal. Perhaps even side by side would be fine, fingers knitted beneath the table, exchanging secrets with your fingertips.

He rapped his knuckles against the door and waited only to receive no answer. That was fine, he thought. It would have been nice to have caught you just as you were waking and take you for brunch but he could just wait for you to get home and make it a late lunch or dinner. He leant up against the wall with the bouquet to his chest and smiled. Their scent was sweet and light. He wondered what you would say when you saw him...

He knocked the door again, calling out this time as well "_____ dear, wake up now~"

And before long it opened and from behind the safety chain he would see your stunned ____ eyes

"R-Roland?" You rushed to free to door, fumbling and bumbling before flinging it open and holding his arms in your grasp. "Is it really you..?"

Your hands roamed slowly working up to his face, his kind, waiting face that smiled and said "Ma cheri, I've come back for you."

Without hesitation you pulled him into a kiss so frantic you almost sent you both to the floor. He swept you up with equal fervour and dragged you inside, moaning as you clawed him closer. The silk gown on your shoulders began to slip under the pressure of his romance, your hands deep in his cashmere, his peeling back your bonnet.

As breaths became tight the vigor eased you looked into each other's eyes, stomachs unknotting, your taste still dancing on his tongue. You whimpered as he let you free.

"Oh how I've longed to hear you, mon doux amour," he breathed you in and held you tight, earning a breathy moan in response. Your stomach boiled with his every word. He pressed you in tighter feeling your knees get loose. "Every day I could only dream of doing this and now you're really hear in my arms..."

Your heart leapt, his palms began to clam. "Y-you didn't tell of those dreams in your letters..." You managed between excitingly tight breaths. Roland's heart leapt at the sound of it, lips hungry for another taste.

"I wouldn't dare..." His throat was suddenly dry, a burning coyness overtaking him like a blindfold over the eyes of a raging beast.

"You can tell me..." Your fingers tingled through his scalp, comforting as played through his waves and whispered "Please..?"

His breath quivered as you slowly coaxed the blindfold away. He swallowed hard "...I... dreamt frequently of making you mine... in every sense possible. T-the visions were so persistent at times I hadn't a clue what to do with myself..."

The quiet settled a moment but it was barely anytime at all before your hands glided to his face and brought it to yours. You were so close, so unflinchingly close, only a hairs length sat between you. Your thumbs brushed his cheeks gently and your lips kissed his nose.

"______ ...?" He breathed

"It's okay," you smiled, voice low as the gown fell open "those visions... They're alright with me. In fact, I'd rather like to experience them..."

A veil of clouds washed over his eyes and the scent of mint hung in the air. When he came to, he found himself sat in your lounge. The flowers had been set in a vase across the way.

"Mm... ______?" He groaned, looking around with a yawn. There was no reply but there was a cute little platter to his left on the coffee table with a note and a beautiful jade green and sand striped tea cosy. It was a small succinct thing with scrawled handwriting. It read;

Roland!

I came back from work and saw you asleep in the hallway so I brought you in. The floor is cold out there!

Something came up so I'm running out but I made you some tea and a sandwich.

Don't wait for me, eat and make yourself at home.

So you'd brought him in all by yourself? No, certainly you'd had a neighbor assist you. And this tea cosy! You'd told him all about it. On one particular occasion early on, you'd taken up the entire letter telling of the ordeal of getting the thing and how you'd heard that it could keep drinks hot all day! Well Roland didn't know what time you'd left, but that peppermint tea you had in there was perfectly drinkable temperature.

He poured himself a cup and turned on the radio, content to wile away the hours until you came back. Besides, he wasn't needed until the evening. He occupied himself with reading, dancing and singing, eating snacks, and people-watching. He even feel asleep again at one point and didn't rise until the sun was setting. His brows knitted. You were still no where to be seen and his shift was to start very soon. What kind of errand had you out all hours of the day? With rounded shoulders he set the flowers into a nearby vase, flipped the note and began to write on the other side.

My dearest ______, please forgive me. I was awaiting your return but I'm required at central cathedral tonight. I must go.

The drinks were quite a treat. I was truly looking forward to seeing you again. I shall come by again whence my shift concludes.

PS, I made you some stew. It's delicious because love made it. 

With rounded shoulders he made his way to the door. The thought that if he waited just a little longer you night just show up, lingering in his mind. He could either wait for you and be late or leave now and miss you. He hung about the door; one leg in, one leg out.

"Can I 'elp ye?" It was an older gentleman, a neighbor seemingly, looking over his glasses curiously at the blond.

"Ah, I had come to see my partner ______ sir ." He smiled, offering a hand. The gentleman looked him up and down before taking it. "Roland Fortis."

"I see." His demeanor eased up, the shaggy moustache eased up into a smile "Well yung man if they're not in now you'll 'ave no luck for a good few hours. Our ______ 'as been working til the crack o' dawn these days. Yer be'er off tryin' tomora."

"Well, that certainly sounds like them..." He gave a solemm chuckle "If you do happen across them, would you tell them I came by?"

"Will do," He said over his shoulder, now more concerned with France's football results in the paper than with the Irish Italian on his doorstep.

That left Roland alone in the hallway again. With a sigh he made his way back to the bunkers and started on his way to the office. There was much to be done before he could lay down for the day. With his hands in his pockets he strolled through the city. It was nice to be back. To see the firmiliar sights and smells. Nobody recognized him of course, but that was part of the deal. Chasseurs were one with the night. The only folks that did recognize him were the church attendees and they tended not to stop him if he wasn't dressed in his clergy clothes. A simple wave was often more than enough for them, though the young ones tended to be much more curious about his whereabouts.

Eventually he reached the cathedral and thought, as it was time for mass, that he ought to drop in for the service. The door swung open just wide enough for him to slip in and creaked closed with a nostalgic clunk. As he slipped into his usual spot on the back row there was another occupant not too far down. In their hands was a jade green handkerchief with a curly blond scraggle of hair sat in the center. They held it with reverence, a vacant stare as the organs sung out above them.

"_______?!" He half shouted.

You snapped your head up.

The elders hissed him quiet.

Embarrassed, he nodded an apology and scooted over whispering "So this is what you meant by having things to do!"

"Huh? Oh, yeah that..." You shuffled back slightly "Sorry about that I just... Couldn't miss the service. "

"That's quite alright dear, I forgive you!" He beamed and reached to hold your hand beneath the pew but you flinched away "Wh... _______?"

"Sorry, dear, I just..." You hesistated about the pet name, smiling a forced smile. A veil seemed to cover your eyes. "There's a lot on my mind..."

"Oh..." He observed your recoiling fingers, your wounded gaze and by instinct... he mirrored them "I see."

You both looked back to the pulpit. The silence was tense from then. Even the prayers echoing about the room wouldn't cover the rift. Roland found his ankle bouncing from time to time and struggled to hold it down. When the benediction came it was a much welcome solitude. When his eyes were closed he couldn't see your distraught, only solutions to it. But when he opened them again to offer them, you were gone.

Chapter Text

That wasn’t how it was supposed to go. You were supposed to be excited to see him. So why? Why did you ears widen like you’d seen a monster? Why was it you backed away as if he would condemn you for untold sin?

Mass came to a close but Roland remained seated at the back of the hall, head hung, petals falling from the roses on his right. He couldn’t square the circle. No matter how badly he tried or what reason he gave, it all came down to distance. You’d grown tired of him in the passing weeks, surely. There wasn’t anything he could do. Instead of coming on too strong, he had been too distant. He wondered if that distance had lead you to other, more worthy partners than he. He wondered who they were, how many others had part-taken in your love. His shoulders rounded and he stared at the floor, burden heavy.

“There you are,” Olivier called, coming out of the bishop's room. “Our shift started hours ago, what are you doing here? There are papers that need to be filed and I will not be covering for your lack of effort this time around.”

“Oh… Olivier. I’ll come and handle it.”

This was odd. He didn’t even bother looking up, nor did his tone carry its usual light. There were no jokes or dismissal, ony a meek acceptance of fate. He was breaking.

Instantly he took the seat next to him. “What happened?”

Roland gave a pitiful laugh “Nothing out of the usual. I just seemed to have loved a little too much, yet again.”

“Ms Rosaline was it?”

“Oh no, not at all. It was someone far, far more wonderful than that…”

He began telling you the stories, the tales and turns of meeting you. He withheld nothing. He could do that with Olivier. They’d been thick as thieves since they were boys in training. Whilst Roland was often the culprit of mischief, he was also susceptible to upset and strife. Olivier himself had his own fairshare of it himself in other situations. Roland was there in his dark times, so it was only right that Olivier be there for Roland’s.

A heads bowed and eyes closed for the benedicition, you shuffled out of the pews and out the doors. 

He was back. Roland was finally back! How yoư'd missed him. It felt like a decade since you'd last seen him and yet when you did see him, your reaction was... you shuddered to think about it. You'd been so caught up in your own thoughts that you hadn't really given him all you felt you should have given. It could have gone better you thought, you could have handled it differently, spoken softer or smiled just a little but instead you' fled away.

Autumn leaves crushed beneath your feet. They were all kinds of colour from brulee brown to blood red and it reminded you that you had at one point considered baking something for the dandelion's return. It wouldn't exactly be as magical as you dreamt it could be, but you were certain that he would appreciate the gesture; see it as a kind of "apology/welcome back" bake. You wondered what he would like. He certainly didn't seem picky but you wanted your desert to perfct. You certainly had the funds to do so.

Your reached into your pocket, feeling the stack of Francs. Perhaps Ms Beatrice's visit wasn't all bad. After all, you were now able to spoil Roland a little, you could endure her visits if it meant you had the means to treat him well. As your excitement grew and your plan forming in your mind, your pace heightened as you rushed to the market.

Roland.

You couldn''t help but imagine the smile on his face as you present him the semla buns you tried to make. He would be so joyful. A picnic, you thought would be nice. The two of you could sit side by side and he'd be so happy with what you gifted to him that he'd drag you up into his arms. It would be suprising, how close he'd scoop you in. That smell of his, like crispen leaves flooding over you.

Your chest tightened, stomach knotting up tight the thought. His soft skin, you could feel it rubbing against your cheek.

"R-roland, too tight!" You'd squeak, attempting to push him away as his hand began to roam from waist to hip and lower.

"You're too cute _______, I could gobble you right up." His kisses across your cheek stray down to your jaw then he adds "although I would much rather you dive in and swallow me."

"What?" Your heart leaps as he pulls you into a straddle across him, coating any exposed skin with love and tender butterflies. A shiver runs down you're spine as he electrifies your thighs "But Roland, a-all these people..."

His eyes hood as he leers into you, taking your chin and leading your lips into a kiss like pure honey. "Isn't that what makes it exciting?" He licks his lips and pulls you down on top of him, your bodies melting into one. "Take me between your lips until you drip down the side of me mon amour. Let me show you how deep my love is."

Your heart pounds and bulges in your chest. You want it. You can the feel the hammering, the craving of your fangs. They pang with the desire of being engulfed by his flesh teeth sinking deep as his juices over flow into you.

"Come on, I know you want to feel me inside of you," He cooed. You quiver at the thought, mouth widening over his neck with nervous anticipation "come on, Miss Honey!"

You pulled back "What did you say?"

"Miss Honey!"

The sound of a fist wrapping against wood snapped you back to reality. You found yourself eye to eye with the vendor of a fruit stall.

"I know you hear me calling you, Miss Honey! You can handle the merchandise, you bite it you buy it!" He hissed, snatching a honeydew melon from your hands that you were dangerously close to laying waste to.

"S-sorry sir, I was in my own world."

"Yeah yeah keep it moving!"

'How embarrassing,' You thought to yourself. You wanted to curl up in a ball and die. You hurried to gather your ingredients and ran off back home vowing never to lose yourself in a daydream again.

Chapter Text

The sound of chairs being set up and instruments being zipped away were the only things you could hear. It was stifling but you weren't in the mood to talk anyways. Your mind was fully occupied with the food you'd left in the fridge. It was imperative that you delivered Roland his treats tongith so you could make things right quicky. You were so focused on the thought that you didn't notice the band side eyeing you as you mounted your instruments onto your back and started for the door.

"Great practice everyone! I'm heading out,"

"Hold it!" The vocalist stopped you in your tracks. "Don't you have anything to say?"

You took a moment to turtle shuffle around, notice the eyes boring into you all around "Uhm... see you all this evening?"

Maria rolled her eyes "Really? You've been disappearing more and more recntly. In the middle of sets, after practice and you're alway late to set up. You really think we wouldn't notice?"

"I'm... Not sure what you mean,"

"Don't play dumb ______. We all know you're getting involved with that client! Just because you're getting tips doesn't mean you can bail whenever you want now. You're member of Luna Pulse, not a rent-a-girlfriend!"

"I-I know that!"

"You do? Well maybe you should start to act like it." She folded her arms and scowled, a look that burn through your soul.

"You can't be serious," You scoffed, looking to the other band me for some solace "Can you believe this?"

The group shuffled awkwardly.

"Well, you have been disappearing after like 80% of your feastings." The guitarist mumbled "You know you're not supposed to go off with the clients right? It's feasting only."

You gulped knowing full well you'd gone further than that with me Beatrice. It wasn't like you went along willingly, Ms Beatrice simply wouldn't take no for an answer! And she knew many wonderful places for drinks and the items she picked out for you were so luxurious it seemed rude to decline her. That didn't make it wrong though, did it? You were just trying to keep the clients happy that was part of the job description! 

"Well?" Maria added noticing your uncomfortable silence. Her eyes narrowed as she hissed "Just how far have you gotten them? I bet they even know where you live by now don't they?"

"Keep your nose out of my business Maria! You're just mad I have better paying fans than you!" You growled and without missing a beat you turned around and stormed out of the door. Or at least as well as you could storm with a giant stringed instrument weighing you down. It was more like an angry tortoise march to be honest.

The elevator at your apartment was still damaged so you struggled you the stairs and flung yourself into the apartment.

"Stupid maria, thinking she knows my life," You cursed, tossing your items aside "What does she know? I'm not involved with Ms Beatrice, she just took me out to the store once or twice. It was a gift! She likes my music, that's all it is!"

Glimpses of sharp teeth and breathy moans flashed through your mind. The cold feeling as her letter slid into your apartment churning your stomach again.

"That's... Not all it is..."

The band was right. At this point you were involved with Ms Beatrice. The relationship had gone past a simple blood exchange a long time ago, you were just too far in denial to acknowledge the fact. It had all happened so fast you hadn't really any time to process what was happening. It would have to stop at some point.

You reached up, feeling the tender mark on your collar bone. It wasn't hard to get rid of clients, you'd heard the stories before and read the guides before you started the band. But Ms Beatrice... Something about her was different.

"I'll handle it next time I see her," You told yourself, rummaging through the fridge to find the special Tupperware containers you'd set aside and picking the semla gently off the cooling rack. Now wasn't the time to be thinking about work. you had limited time before you had to be back at The Olde Boot and you had a mission to complete. You were going to surprise your wonderful partner with breakfast. Or dinner. Or however food worked on a night shift. A meal anyway.

It had been so long since you'd last seen Roland, your schedules didn't align all too well, and to be honest you missed him much more than you were willing to admit aloud. So you'd packed him a variety of tasty food and snacks. You hadn't told him of course, it would be a nice little surprise for him, you thought. If you were fast enough you could potentially catch him before he left for patrol.

You switched to some clean clothes, packed up your basket, spritzed some perfume and began making your way to the rooftops. The moon and the stars were chasing the sun, laugh as it strectehed its rays away in an attempt to enjoy its final hours of freedom in the Parisian sky. You imagined they were chadsing the light away for you.

The church grounds were patrolled regularly at night, but with a shift to the world formula and a little bit of tact it was almost as if no trespass was committed at all. In the evening light this place looked eerie. The roods seemed to be watching you as you snuck through the ailses and towards the bishop's room. The stain glass windows almost appeared colourless. You were so enthralled with the almost haunting visage of the cathedral at night that you didn't notice gaping hole in the floor until you were flat on your face at the bottom of what felt an enterally long staircase.

You cursed and rubbed your nose. If you weren't so sturdy you really could have broken something.

It took a moment to get your bearings. Whatever this are was, it was certainly not the church. Dim candles lined the walls and off yellow like stone bricks made the air feel damp and cloggy. You gulped. This was Chasseur territory.

You wanted to leave. You had to leave, every fiber ofyour beinf screamed and yearned for an exit and you would have had the Tupperwares not slid out of your basket down the hallway. The tnagerines continued their taunting trajectoryas if to lure you deeper into the graveyard.

'Leave it alone!' You hissed at yourself as you scrambled to gather the local items 'You shouldn't be here!'

'But the tubs are were pricey!' Another voice inside you said as you tiptoed into a vast open space 'And if I leave them they could track me down!'

You checked the plastic for any leaks and replaced them promptly. The tangerines were somehow still rolling. You hadn't the determination to grab them. You could feel your skin starting to crawl, nausea threatening to burst. It was time to leave.

"And you are?" A voice like gravel surprised followed by heavy footsteps came from ahead of you. His sharp eyes pierced straight through you. "This is no place for citizens."

"O-Oh yes! I fell down from up there!" You pointed towards the stare case. "I'm ever so clumsy, fell down the steps on my way to the alter! Nothing like praying in an empty cathedral!"

The gent seemed unimpressed "The nearest stairs are at least a mile away. And you fell from those stairs all the way into this atrium?"

"T-They are?!" You rued how the atmosphere ruined your perception of depth and space "Uhm... I was just looking for someone but...if they're not here I can just leave,"

"You really mean you want me to believe that a common civilian just so happened upon these catacombs?" He reached towards one of his pockets "My patience is wearing thin. What were your intentions in coming here, stranger? This is no place for common folk,"

"Olivier! Where did you get off to?" Roland's voice came from the hallway and soon enough he trotted next to the black haired gent at his side. "You took off in such a hurry I could hardly-.... ______?!"

"You know this person?"

"Do I?!" He tackle hugged you abruptly, rubbing his face into yours before announcing "This is my beautiful, wonderful, one of a kind partner!"

Olivier grimaced at the flora radiance coming from the sunshine man. 

'Partner eh? The very one that had him in a slump most of the moring no doubt.' He thought, face stern and unrelenting.

You gave a timid smile trying to ignore the rumbling uncertainty you felt through your nerves.

"It begs the question though, what are you doing here mon amour? It is rather late for you to be in the church let alone in the catacombs,"

"I just wanted to surprise you with a visit but it seems it's been more trouble than I anticipated," You gestured towards the basket as best you could from the constraints of his affection "I brought this for you."

He took a moment, looking down at the basket, processing the disheveled plastic tubs and neatly parcelled drinks and then gasped. "Por moi?!"

"To make up for how I acted earlier. Besides, I thought you might need a little-" Your sentence was Interupted by the sound of fabric tearing. Upon a brief inspection you noticed the nice leather gloves you'd put on were hanging off your now vampiric hand. Somehow your claws had spawned and were continuing to spread out against your will. You quickly hid it behind your back. "Pick me up!"

He gasped take the basket and exploring the contents "You even packed the those little rabbit shaped apples I like ~"

"And I added lemon juice so they don't go brown."

"You know me so well!"

You forced a laugh to try and distract from the prefuse amounts of sweat running down your back. What was going on?! You had never had any trouble before but now it taking so much effort to simply stop yourself from going feral. You could hardly even retract the talons!

"Cher you are a blessing," He sang and bounded back to the obsidian, thrusting the basket his way "Are you seeing this Olivier?"

"What I'm seeing is a trespasser fraternizing with a Chasseur. You shouldn't be down here ______."

"You're right, I have overstayed my welcome. I hope you enjoy the basket! There's enough to share in there too! You both should go eat it! Right now! I don't want to hold you up!" You tried keeping your voice down as your other hand began to shift and grow "I'll just head back to the surface!"

"What? You're leaving so soon?" Roland pouted "You're not going to eat with me?"

"Where exactly are you going to eat with a non-chasseur in the catacombs, Roland?" Olivier cut his eye at you "They shouldn't even be here."

"I suppose you're right," He sighed and pulled whats seemed to be an ulna bone from within his jacket "Besides we still have to file this away properly."

"Did you bring that from Rouen without proper containment?! Roland, you absolute idiot! How many brain cells do you have!?"

The two of them argued and bantered with one another as you attempted to slowly back away. That thing... as soon as Roland brought it out you felt it speaking to you almost as if an entity within it were trying to get under your skin and over take your mind.

"Be free, my child!" You felt it within your head "Rampage! Destroy!"

You grumbled, your sense of moral balance beginning to betray you. You prayed you could get back to the steps without them noticing. But of couse, Olivier was sharp as a knife and spoke just as dangerously.

"______," He called from across the room. You could just about see him making his way over, hand over his holsters.

"Y-yes...?" You smiled, sense of balance waning.

From within the holster he drew out a hair elastic and retied his hair. The strands moved like water as he neatly placed them back.

He nodded towards the door "I shall escort you out. You'll get lost otherwise."

"Wha- but I wanted to walk them out!" Roland protested

"You're just looking for an excuse to run off on another of your silly escapades!" He hissed, you could practically see the veins bulging on his forehead "Come along ______, it's getting late."

You didn't feel like being on the receiving end of his rage so you complied with little fighting. Besides, whatever that strange item was in Roland's pocket was making you act up and if ouwere to let lose in a place like this? No, if you were ever to slip so much as a fnag in front of Roland you were not convinced you'd see the sunrise. So you went behind the Obsidian quitely and focused on keeping your breathing as even as you could.

"Thank you Olivier," You broke the silence after you could not longer hear Roland's childlike wailing behind you. "I can make my way from here."

"It's alright." He said. It was more of a command than a reassurance.

You glanced down at your hand trying to force your claws back in with varying degrees of success.

"______," he cast his gaze your way for a moment. His expression was hard to read. You gave him a civil smile trying to make it seem like you weren't just throwing signs like you were in a great ninja war. He looked forward again, unlocking a giant metal gate. "Roland is a hassle but thank you for putting up with his antics."

You laughed a little "He has his moments,"

Olivier grumbled, the memories of forced heroism and collective punishments flashing through his retinas. He pushed the gate open and helped you through.

"You two seem to get along well. Have you known each other long?"

"We started our training at around the same time. At some point the lummox decided to latch onto me and has been like a leech draining me of my sanity for as long as I can remember,"

"And you haven't shaken him off yet?"

"Believe me I've tried," He rolled his eyes. You felt the floor below you shift from uneven cobble to smooth paved floor and new you were homefree "He's like a boomerang. Bloody man just keeps coming back,"

"I think that's testiment to what a kind person you are Olivier," You looked around getting your bearings. You could see the market and the train station not too dar in the distance. You were close enough to your aparttment here. "I know where this is is. I can go from here."

He nodded, silently sizing you up one last time "Go safely. It can be dangerous to go alone at night,"

"I'll be quite alright. Have a pleasant evening, sir Olivier." You smiled and made your way back to your apartment. 

The moon had fully risen now, taking its rightful place in the sky. That meant the show would be starting soon. You had to hurry and get back to The Olde Boot.

Chapter Text

The winds blew cold that night. That was yet another reason why Olivier loathed this uniform. It was always too cold or too hot. Supposedly there were going to be some developments, something to do with astermite and heat regulation but Paris had yet to see anything of it. It wasn't so bad in the catacombs but anytime he had to do stealth and slink around, Jack Frost would slowly and surely work his way into his bones. He rolled his neck and hissed. He'd been tailing Roland's mysterious partner for a little while now but craning his neck downwards over the rooftops in the wind was really starting to take its toll. 

He looked up to the sky, lime green eyes taking on a lunar glow. He didn't know how to feel about them. No non-chasseur just happens to find their way into the catacombs. Heck, even trained personnel lost their way from time to time! The entry route was intentionally convoluted so that no outsiders could get in, and yet ______ did. There was the option that they were from another division of course but that wouldn't explain lack of etiquette. A paladin's jewel is always visible, even if they'd never met Olivier before they would at least recognize that and introduce themselves formally. And what was with Roland's sudden change of mood? He was usually obnoxiously cheerful but never so giddy...

He didn't like it. He didn't like you. Something was certainly amiss. He'd only seen Roland as upset as he was that morning when he lost his men in battle and yet you had left him in exactly the same mental state. Reconciliation hamper be damned, nobody made Roland that upset and got away with it. Nobody. If the day ever came when you crossed his path again...

"Wait..." He looked back over the edge, eyes bouncing across the streets frantically. "Damn it, where did they go?!" 

He gritted his teeth, leaping down to the vendor you'd just been talking to. 

"Where did they go?" He demanded, pushing past the gentleman collecting a very rosy rolled ice "that customer with the big thing on their back?"

"T-they left off that way some time ago sir..." They vendor replied, greatly concerned for the napkin stack getting reduced to dust beneath his dragonite gauntlet. 

Olivier growled in defeat. In the buzz of the music district he'd never find them now. "Merci..."

In truth you weren't all too far away. You had jammed yourself into a nook far down the high street ever grateful that you'd learnt how to manipulate the world formula to gain speed in the first place. You stayed there until the scent of the catacombs faded away and then you released your tension. Olivier was sharper than you thought. You'd have to be careful getting to The Olde Boot tonight otherwise it could mean trouble.  

"There you are Olivier!" Roland called over to him making his way across the roof tops towards him. "You certainly know how to cover ground my friend!"

"Uh-huh. Look Roland, about this partner of yours-"

"______? Aren't they the sweetest?" He smiled pulling out one of your rabbit apples from his pocket and offering one to him. 

"I am quite alright." He held up a rejecting hand "How much do you actually know about them?"

"You want to know about them?!"

"No Roland, I want you to think about it!" He heaved a heavy sigh "I decided to follow _______ but I lost sight of them around this area. Do you know what that means?"

Roland looked on, eyes wide with nonchalance as he chewed on his apple. As he swallowed his brows knitted and he bolted up with a realization "You stalk people for a hobby! I never would have pitted you as the Olivier."

Olivier facepalmed "Good God Roland think for a moment! I followed them here because they're suspicious! How on earth can a normal person find there way into the catacombs?! That's a one in a million chance for a non-chasseur!"

"Well I suppose my darling is just one on a million then."

"And I suppose it's merely coincidence that I trailed them to the district widely known for vampire attacks?" He folded his arms waiting for a quick remark on the silence. "I understand being paladin is new to you so listen while I spell it out, this ______ is not what the they seem to be. I just know it."

Roland laughed, slapping his shoulder and walking to assess the view elsewhere "Oh Olivier you worry too much!"

"I have to worry because you're involved! Honestly," He rubbed his temples "I'm like a child minder..."

Roland looked out over the city lights grateful that Olivier wouldn't see his face fall from this angle. He was aware but perhaps hadn't accepted that your story didn't add up. There were gaps and lies that he didn't want to think about. Anyone could see that he was in love with you, and anyone could tell that love was blinding him. He'd heard it that day before running into Rosaline, that shop keeper friend of yours spoke the word "chasseur" with such venom. Roland know Lucien wouldn't accept him for his own reasons but... What would that matter if the two of you loved each other? Love could overcome anything, he could win him over surely!

"I'm just saying you should be careful..." Olivier said gently, or gently by his standards anyway. He knew this man well enough by now to know when he'd struck a nerve and with the morning he'd had he wanted only to keep his out of harms way. "Chasseurs are huntsman but we can easily become the hunted if we walk with our eyes closed."

Roland gave a solemn chuckle "There you go recounting the rulebook again."

Olivier flushed "Wha- I'm not recounting a thing!"

"You are! You were always such a bookworm when we were younger. I guess that's still the case!"

The Obsidian swung in rage and the Jasper dodged in jest. 

"Clearly your not in as much of a state as I thought." He said through gritted teeth, fixing himself upright and flipping his hair "I needn't have worried."

Roland gasped "You were worried about me?!"

"Hardly!" He promptly turned around and started in the opposite direction "I'm heading back to base, you take over patrol!"

"Of course!" Roland waved him off with a smile "Have a pleasant evening!" And then promptly threw his feet over the edge and sat on the parapet. 

He stared at the rabbit apple deep in thought. He was supposed to patrol but... He really didn't want to. Was it wrong for a paladin to take a break? Of course not! Besides, if anything did happen he was agile enough to catch up. He let his mind wander aimlessly as he chomped down on the apples he'd stashed in his pocket, throwing the seeds off the edge. It had been a long trip and his next day off wasn't for a while now, a moment to relax wouldn't go amiss. 

The wind was light, just enough to make him aware of it's presence. It was reassuring, reminded him of how far he'd come. Many years ago such a breeze reminded him that the world was cruel to kind people. It could strip a good man of the roof above his head. Now it was a voice of reassurance, bringing him back to earth when he felt it was all spinning too fast. He would have admired the stars had any been out that night but instead he looked at the clouds, their thin wisps and contours, and he played hide and seek with the moon. 

Eventually after what felt like a moment but could well have been several hours, his eye wandered to the city streets below and on the not-too-far distance, Roland noticed some familiar figures. A tall, well dressed lady with bright red lips was slowly making her way towards the nearby alley. She seemed far too classy for this side of the city. And the way she waved her fan in front of her, dismissing any low grade cretins who passed her by... she was peculiar. Based on her trajectory she was headed his way. Or more accurately, your way.

"Good work everyone, see you tomorrow!" You called from the streets below. As soon as the door closed, you heaved a heavy sigh of relief, cradling your neck. He would have let you be a while longer if that lady in red hadn't started on her way towards you. He recognized her, last time he'd seen you together you'd looked... Unwell to say the least. He couldn't trust that she wouldn't try anything.

He leapt like it was second nature, hardly computing the swings and flips used to slow his descent before he landed behind you, hands over your eyes. 

"Guess who?" He whispered playfully. 

Had the scent of bourbon and cigarettes not been so stuck in your nose, you might have picked up his cedar notes. But with the scents still so high and music still so loud in your ears, you instantly threw him off with a force so great that he went into the wall with a heavy thud. It struck you as he went flying that the perpetrator had Jasper scent written all over him.

"Roland?!" You gasped rushing to peel him out of the brick "I am so sorry! Are you hurt?"

"I've had worse. I didn't realize you were that strong ma chérie!" He gagged and coughed, dusting himself off and grinning.  

You groaned, ashamed of yourself. "Apparently I don't know how strong I truly am." You sighed "What are you doing here anyway? I thought you had to file something or the other away?"

"That's all sorted now. Don't worry about it. If you're done with work, I wouldn't mind walking you home."

"Walking me home? I'd love to! But I'm not quite done for the night..." You said knowing you had to check in with Lucien later. You did still want to spend time with Roland though so instead you offered "How about I walk you back to the cathedral? I'm heading in that direction now anyway. And besides, I want to hear all about Rouen." You held his hand "What do you say?"

He wanted to be disappointed but he'd still be spending time with you. Besides you were far too cute to turn down for such a silly little thing. 

"Well, I suppose I have no choice." He grinned and the two of you started on your way out of the alley "Where should I begin?"

You hummed in thought "The beginning is as good a place as any I suppose?"

"Very true! It all started after we said goodbye on the bridge, it was the usual procedure of getting the unit together and loading our equipment into the air ships. You wouldn't believe the size of them chérie, it's like stepping aboard a whale! You just have to see it to believe me..."

Chapter Text

"Do you not have work to attend, sir?"

"Not with any immediacy,"

Roland cooed, sweetly meeting your lips again. Your hands slid up his chest and around his neck, drawing him in. You'd walked him to the church after your date that day only intending to leave him at the gate, but one goodbye kiss lead to another and then another. You had arrived at sunset, but by now the stained glass refractions had long since caressed your skin with their warm touch and the moon was now singing its sonata.

He pulled away, an enraptured smile on his lips as his deep green eyes settled into yours. You walked further up the pews hand in hand, stopping just in front of the pulpit. His thumb brushed your knuckles.

"I really I ought to get going," You whispered, voice bouncing about the roods.

He drew you in again, tickling your neck and shoulders with tiny butterflies.

"Roland!" You laughed, pushing against his vice grip "You can't do this in church!"

"Love thy neighbour, no?" was his only response as he continued his playful assault. As he worked his across your jaw, he pulled you in to a tight hug. You loved when he did that. Whenever he wrapped his arms around you, it felt like your collapsing life came back together, as if every prayer you'd ever offered came true in those hour long minutes.

"Ma chérie," He whispered

"Yes Roland," You whispered back

"You look absolutely ravishing tonight,"

"You shouldn't tease me, dear. Keep talking like that and you're not going to get to work at all," You settled a golden ringlet from his forehead off to the side.

"I could take a day off~" He teased

The action got him thinking though. Roland had never actually touched your hair. Since he was young he dreamed of running his hand through his partner’s hair as they watched the setting sun together. But even after 4 weeks of courting you, an attempt hadn't even been made from him to do so. It made him wonder why not. Then he remembered. Your hair had never been the same twice. Twisted buns, long braids, fancy wigs, bantu knots, faux locs... Your versatility was one of the things he adored the most about you. In fact, the style you wore today, cornrow ponytail, was certainly one of his favourites but still.

"Chérie, may ask something of you?" He asked

You cocked a brow "Is something the matter?"

"No, not at all," Said Roland "I was simply wondering, would you let your hair down for me?"

"I- sorry?"

"It's just a selfish request really. I would like to play with your hair is all"

You blinked. His eyes glowed expectantly. He was so adorable, his naivety made you laugh.

"Sorry," Noticing his gormless expression you quelled your laughter "Its just that unlike your hair, I can't just loose a ribbon and it all falls down. It'll take quite a while to loose this out and it'd probably be rather messy as well,"

"Is that so..."

His downtrodden gaze made your heart weep. Not wanting to leave him so dismayed before work, you tiptoed up and planted a kiss on his cheek.

"I'll tell you what, for our next date I shall wear my hair out for you.”

"Would you...?"

You smiled and nodded, brushing his cheek with your thumb. "You have a good evening okay?"

Those _______ eyes. Whenever he found looked at them, he found himself stuck in another world. There was something magical in your gaze that always snatched the words from his lips. He wanted you, all of you, all of the time.

He nuzzled into your palm. You watched his eyes, expectant. Usually when he got that mischievous glint in his eyes, it usually meant he was coming for a final good bye kiss. The kind of deep, passionate kiss that made your stomach knot and your heart leap. You found yourself eyeing his them. You tried not to; you knew how devious doing so would make him.

He held your gaze, smirking as he turned into your palm and kissed it. You shivered, flustered sounds peeping as you struggled to keep eye contact. He loved doing that to you, surprising you with his love; it was like he could feel you flushing beneath him. He slid away with his usual innocent smile.

"Until Tuesday ma chérie," He called as he made his way into the bishop's quarters

"Oui... Until Tuesday."

It wasn't until you were stood beside the pop up bakery with the parasol Roland had bought you and your braid out fully picked that you began to feel anxious. You'd only ever worn hour hair up around Roland. And even then man was rather excitable... That last thing you wanted would be for him to get overzealous and bury himself so deep within your coils that you'd need a hedge trimmer and a qualified brain surgeon to get him out again.

"There you are, ma chérie!" The shiny brown shoes peaked into your field of vision. You readied yourself, taking a breath and then tilted the umbrella to see him.

"Roland! I'm so glad you made it!"

You gripped the parasol handle tight as he observed you. His expression was shocked, unreadable until his eyes began to flow.

"R-Roland?!" You panicked, patting around your pockets "Uh j-just hang on, I'm certain I've a handkerchief in here somewhere...!"

"Oh God," He wept "you've blessed me to be in the presence of an angel!"

"Stop that, you're so dramatic," You tossed the hanky at him, covering your face and stifling the embarrassed laughter and butterflies in your gut. Honestly, he always spoiled you so much.

Dates with Roland were nigh always spontaneous. You'd only really plan where to meet and after that you'd go where the wind took you. You had tried planning way back when, but when courting a golden retriever like Roland Fortis it was never long before something else caught his eye.

On this occasion, you'd come to the conclusion that a nice walk about the hills would be fine just what you both needed. With Roland being a chasseur and you working nights, it suited you both well to do something relaxing like that. You'd walk up the hill talking about all sorts of things; people you walked past, the state of the climate or whatever came to mind. You let your man take the air space as he needed too, after all it wasn't often you were able to talk like this. You didn't mind at all. Besides, it gave you good reason to watch him talk, watch his lips move. Honestly you hadn't stopped thinking about them since you'd said goodbye the other day. You tried to shake it from your mind several times unsuccessfully and being this close didn't help. You wanted to kiss him again, but with so many people around it wouldn't exactly be appropriate.

"What do you think ma chérie?"

"I want it..."

"...you want me to trip and spill coffee all over you? Well that hardly sounds pleasant,"

"Uhm I...I just meant-"

'Dang it!' You cursed yourself. You were so caught up in your smutty fantasies that you hadn't listened to a word he was saying. You stumbled around for a way to save the conversation.

"I-It's just that at work, the girls were discussing skin care trends a-and coffee is the next big thing! Y-you know how trends are, they come and go and some of them are good and some aren't, I-I was just curious to see if this one was any good!"

You didn't notice in your tizzy how your partner had taken to drawing back and watching you walk ahead, hands in pockets, with a peaceful grin across his face.

"So that's all it was! …Roland?" You called, turning when you noticed he was longer beside you. He waved at you from the distance. "What are you doing all the way back there!? I must have looked insane talking to myself!"

"Quite the contrary, ma chérie," He screamed at the top of his lungs "your visage was simply so heavenly I had to stop for take it all in,"

His call had begun turn some heads, and knowing the detail your partner was about to go into, you dashed over, eager to cover his mouth. But before you were even close, you buckled. If Roland wasn't so quick on his feet, you would have been flat on the floor.

"Ouch...."

"Are you alright, ______?!"

"Well, I've been better..."

You gripped tightly to his arms. He noticed your grimace and the stiletto hanging off your left boot and promptly swept you up in his arms.

You yelped, latching around his neck "R-Roland?! What are you doing?!"

"You can't very well walk after a fall like that," Said Roland, walking proudly with you in his grasp "besides, I rather like holding you like my bride,"

Your heart raced again. You were glad that. He was facing forward so he wouldn't tease you for staring up at him. You leant your head into his chest. Goodness he smelled so good. It was all you could do to restrain yourself.

He carried you up to the summit with a cheery smile on his face and set you down on the closest bench he could find to the best view. Then he knelt down and slid off the damaged shoe.

"It's a shame about these," He said as he unbuckled and slid them off "They were rather pretty,"

You sighed and nodded "It's alright; they were a size small anyways. Didn't come in my size apparently," you laughed it off but winced as Roland brushed his hands over a swollen patch.

"Then I shall have to buy you a better pair," He said as he gently massaged the damage.

"Oh, it's fine. Such pretty things never much suited me anyway,"

"Don't speak like that," he scalded you with a kiss atop your foot making you tremble, "you're my princess, you deserve all the gold the world has to offer."

He stood and leant into you, hands ghosting up your by thighs as he went to trap you between his arms. You swallowed hard, drawing a shaky breath. He had that look in his eyes again, that hungry look that told you he didn't care who was around. His fingers snaked around yours as he tipped his head and murmured your name:

"_______,"

"Yes, Roland....?"

His eyes beamed, a sudden innocence returning as he asked "Would you like a crepe, my dear?"

You blinked, surprised by the tonal shift.

"That stall over there is famous for its deserts; I've been meaning to stalk it out for a while now. What luck that it's here of all places!" He grasped your hands tightly. "Now don't you run off anywhere, I'll be right back!"

And just like that, he was off. You squeezed your legs together. He could be so hard to read sometimes! He had to know you were getting worked up, that's exactly why he was teasing you. Your fists balled tightly. When he came back you'd let him have it! Or at least you thought you would've have. When you saw him bounding over with all the joy the world had to offer, your fury melted away. He was just adorable as he handed you your desert and explained every detail on how it was made. You ate happily, interjecting with odd comments as you stuffed your face with berries, peaches and cream.

"It really is delicious. Are you sure you don't want to try some?"

"You go on ahead dearest; I'm quite alright,"

"Are you sure?"

"Quite," He said, leaning in to lick a smudge of cream from beside your lip. "I have all the desert I could need right here,"

"Roland!" You yelped, probably a little too loud before hissing "Don't tease me like that...!"

"Hm?" He feigned ignorance, pecking and biting his way down your neck, a hand drawing you close at the hip. Even without teeth he could work. Your mind began to spin. You'd been dreaming day after day about the taste of his blood but how would it feel for him to drink yours? If he had could take you between his lips and take you in, how divine would it be?

He chuckled as you swooned, content in believing he was winning at his little game until he suddenly found himself being dragged up by the cravat. You bore down at him, expression heated and frustrated.

"Is... Everything alright, ma chér-"

You cut him off, crashing your lips into his. He moaned a little, surprised by your forwardness.

"I told you," You pulled away and panting before you did too much "Not to tease me..."

He seemed surprised, touching at the ________ lipstick smudged across his lips. You bunted into his shoulder, pounding his chest with your fist limply.

"Silly boy..." You muttered, regretting all the patrons who must have seen the wantonous display and been repulsed.

"Well I certainly won't be making that mistake again. Unless?" You thumped him hard as his coughed laughter began to chorus. Roland patted your back until you eventually slowed and stopped. "Chérie?"

A gentle snore was enough to know you were drifting off. It was still early afternoon, but it wasn't uncommon for you to wrap up at the bar at times nearing 6am. He gently scooped you up and set you down on his lap. You stirred a little, eyes squinting open as you silently questioned your surroundings.

"Shhhhhh it's alright," He whispered

"Sorry Rollie, I must be more tired than I thought..."

Rollie.

The nickname made him wiggle with glee.

"You go on and rest, I'll be here" he held your hand, his other hovering above your coil cushion, slightly intimidated, unsure where to start.

"May I?" He asked, relieved when you smiled and nodded.

He started by brushing his fingertips across it. They grazed the surface, barely even breaking the top layer. Then he tried again, piercing through the puff with his fingers forking through. He was surprised to find he couldn't get all that far. The first few minutes were rough as he tried (and failed) to get a clean stroke from front to nape. There were jams and knots that he tried honestly not to hit but that was proving difficult what with the shrinkage beginning to set in.

"Ro..." You groaned, limply guiding his hands "Sections..."

"Ah! I see!"

After that, he became a wizard with his fingers. He would part thinly and tease out any knots he found. You could feel him work through each and every area, watching as he stretched the strands and let them shoot back to size. With every stoke and massage your sleep grew deeper and deeper until eventually the sun light was barely an issue. The gent propped up the parasol for you, watching as you went slack jawed. You were perfect in every sense of the word.

You had to admit though, after however many hours of sleep you had gotten on his cushiony thighs, the last thing you were expecting to be woken up by was something tugging through your hair. You stirred, rising up to see three young children with dirt covered hands and guilt ridden expressions, hands full of random weeds and odd plants.

Were they littering your mane with that garbage? Not one night after wash day?!

Roland was saying something behind you but it didn't process. He tried to hold you but you brushed him off. You felt the red rage pouring into your eyes and venom in your voice as you grabbed them by the ear and spoke:

"Where are your parents?”

They bawled and squealed pointing in some vague direction. You didn't need that though; all families had a certain scent. They weren't all that far away. You dragged them off, throwing them back to their elders with harsh scalding. If Roland hadn't ran over and held you back, you could have (and most likely would have) lashed out.

"______!" He stepped between you and the family, holding your hands behind him. "Come now dear, the young ones have apologised,"

His hands, you noticed as you calmed down, they were bleeding slightly. Had you.... No, certainly not. You promised yourself you'd never hurt him like that. If he found out you were a vampire, it would change everything! You had to hold back but his smell... You needed to taste him, feel him inside you. You stared at the ground, hoping some consitent scenery would calm you down. Then you noticed the claws on your left hand. Were you shifting again? This was the second time you'd lost control around Roland. But why?! You didn't have the time to find out, if you went any further and somebody saw you out here it would be over! What to do.... what to do...?!

"There now. We shouldn't be experiencing that again anytime soon," He turned to face you again, a reassuring smile as he set about pulling some of the leaves from your head "That was quite the display though, who knew you had that kind of strength!!"

"Huh? Oh, yes. Indeed..." The closer he brought his hands the harder it was to concentrate. It was just a tiny thing, a simple graze but the more it wormed into your nose the hungrier you become. Your shoulders shook.

"What is it ma chérie? You seem distressed..."

You bit your lip, struggling to repress the fangs.

"They may have been mischievous but those children meant you no harm," He brushed his thumb across your cheek "besides I think the flowers suit you very-"

You batted his hand away, snatching the parasol from his hand and hiding beneath it. You did your utmost to avoid seeing his wounded gaze.

"I'm going home," You snapped, promptly turning and dashing off.

"Wait, but your shoes!" He cried "______!"

But it was no use. By the time he'd looked back from getting them, you were gone.

You slumped on your stool, limply tuning your instrument.

"This again, ______?" The bugle player rolled his eyes "You've been in a mood for over a week now!"

"But I just ran off like that after he put flowers in my hair!" You bawled "I didn't even say thank you, they were so cute too..."

"A few days ago you were complaining that there were branches in it,"

"I mean there were but it was those annoying kids that did that, not my Rollie,"

He gagged at the nickname

"I bet he hates me, he hasn't come by my place even once..."

"You haven't been to his place either,"

"Well no, I suppose not but that's-"

The whole band sighed collectively. This was the first night a new venue with an entirely new set and nearly nine days after your blood lust incident you were still dragging down the mood.

"Listen kid," The lead vocalist smoked her pipe "We get it, this is your first human boyfriend. Been there done that, but you can't just hide your nature from him forever. Just be open about it, I’m sure he'll understand,"

You nodded silently. You couldn't exactly tell them that he was a chasseur, they'd skin you alive.

Luna Pulse, the jazz band you worked with, was an all-vampire travelling band. You worked all kinds of venues across Paris providing a place for vampires on this side of Altis to relax outside the human gaze. Almost every night at dusk, you'd gather your instruments and by moonrise the crowd would begin pouring in. All the staff at the bar was vampire folk when you played, of course. You'd always bring in your own crew. You'd see all sorts of people from the down-and-outs to the upper echelons needing a sweet escape. But the thing that made your band unique outside of that was the tips. The highest tipper of the night was allowed to choose one member of staff and drink their fill. Lately, you'd been the prime choice, hence why you'd been so tired at all your dates. Or rather, you lack thereof.

Your fingers ran across the strings in a practiced fashion as you tried to maintain the bright energy you were known for. But it was hard. After all, your date didn't exactly end well. In fact, you'd dare say it had ended terribly. You were overthinking it. Wondering if you'd reacted too harshly. After all when you'd come home and seen yourself in the mirror, the poppies and posies littered around your puff were quite the site to see. Yes, you had to spend a while loosening the holly leaves and thistles before you washed it out but still you looked like a doll. You sighed. Your vocalist was right; perhaps you needed to talk to-

Roland?

For a moment you were certain you saw him at the bar, chasseur robes and fluffy blond hair hovering near the dear. You could hear his laughter too. But then you blinked and he was gone.

"Hey!" The bugle player hissed during the trombone solo "Where's your head at? You're dragging the pace!"

"O-oh, right! Sorry!"

He turned away and grumbled something about being an airhead. And to be honest he was right. So after the first half you sat out. Clearly you weren't in the right mind to perform. You slumped into the leather sofa in the green room with its overly soft cushions that wanted to eat you alive. You stared up at the peeling white ceiling, water damage eating away at the corners. This slump was becoming a problem; a real problem.

A gentle knock at the door from a barmaid caught your attention.

"Feeling any better?" She asked

"Not really but I'll get there," You pushed up and noticed the tray she'd set down. Upon it a box of chocolates, a large paper envelope and an expensive looking bottle of wine. "What's all this?"

"Well I wasn't told who sent them but I was told to give you these. I think it's safe to assume you have the highest tips again,"

"Lucky me(!)" You picked up the envelope, cracking it open and sifting through all the notes. "We got a lot of patrons tonight, huh?"

"Actually no, this is all from one person. I assume they're waiting for you already,"

Your jaw dropped. Who had this much money to expend on one vampire?!

Taking to the mirror you settled your braces over your crisp cotton shirt and tucked the ends of your tracks into your paper boy hat. Then, with the wallet secure in your pocket you made your way to the usual spot. An alleyway behind the bar barricaded off with chain barriers. It wasn't anything grand, but it kept unsuspecting humans from wondering in. The floor was still damp from the rain, you could hear the water lapping at your heels with each step you took into the clammy orange street.

You ran your fingers over notes. You lost count after two thousand. Steam floated from the webby vents in the walls. It was cold, and quiet. Not even a breeze rolled through.That was until he came in.The heavy breathing and uneven footsteps at the end of the alley belonged to a fairly tall gentleman. His tail coat seemed freshly tailored.

"Is it you?" You waved the envelope "You didn't need to sell your soul to get the highest bid you know. I'm flattered but for my blood? Surely this is a bit much,"

"Not at all, it's just the right price," He swallowed hard. "I was walking through the park on a day when I thought I'd lost everything. And then I heard you play and all that changed. I came to all of your shows I could find, seeing you made me feel so good inside. When I learnt about the bids, I couldn't just let up. I couldn't let anyone else have you, I couldn't!"

His eyes, you could see them through the dark, a delirious deep red tainting his sanity.

"Say you'll be mine, ______! I'll pay however much you need!"

You backed away, trying to keep sturdy "T-that’s not quite how it works sir. I can't be claimed by one person, it's in the small print,"

He became jittery, dashing up and grabbing your face between his clawed grimy paws "But I paid!"

"Y-yes but-"

"I paid! You’re mine!" In one swift motion he pinned you to the brick, your blouse was torn and his sharp fangs sunk into neck.

You squirmed and protested, clawing at him. You breathing grew heavy as your legs quaked. His claws bore into your shoulders where they clutched at you, deeper and deeper until you could feel him under your skin. "S-sir please, don't take too much....!"

At the pace he was going, you'd reach your climax in seconds. You'd learnt to give in to the feelings of pleasure a bite could give but at that moment beneath the painful euphoria was fear. This man had to be a curse bearer. If you weren't careful, he'd surely drain you dry. So naturally, when his fangs were removed from your neck and you found yourself breathless in the arms of your blond haired chasseur, you were rather overwhelmed.

"Georges, Maria!"

"Yessir!"

The curse bearer darted off through the streets, snarling and roaring as he bounded across the buildings.

"_______, can you look at me?"

Your eyes could hardly focus and your entire being quivered profusely. Roland held you close, gently as if touching glass.

"Roland, I..."

"It's okay ma chérie, you don't have to speak... I know,"

Your arms sat limply on his shoulders as he rubbed comforting circles across your back. Your eyes began to water. You weren't sure what to do, or say first. There was just so much going on. The bar, the flowers, the apology, the blood...

Oh, the blood. He must have been in dire straits. There were cuts all over his uniform. They seemed fairly shallow but he smelled so good...

Just a little, you told yourself, just enough until I'm back on my feet...

You pressed against him, shakily tiptoeing into his reach "Roland," You buried yourself in the crook of his neck, already drunk off his scent, eyes swirling appasionate "I didn't mean for it to happen like this..."

"It's not your fault, vampires are cruel beast that set upon anyone,"

With a shaky breath you opened up and sunk yourself deep into his tender unsuspecting flesh. He tightened around you. Feeling him inside was simply divine. His taste, every bit as sweet as you imagined, his tight moans even sweeter.

"M-ma chérie, you're- no you can't possibly be..."

He shuddered as you swallowed and licked your lips. What was this feeling? Betrayal? Arousal? You felt his chest rise and fall as he breathed heavily beneath you. His blood stained your lips.

Those fangs... Those eyes... You were of course yourself but now, with those crocodile tears and the diabolical smile you were ones of them. His eyes were wide. Your touch across his cheek was cold now, repulsive. And then with those lips he once loved you uttered those plaguing words with a broken smile.

"I'm so sorry my love, forgive me...?"

Chapter Text

Chasseurs had the place flooded. Every floor of The Olde Boot was being swept for any signs of vampire or dhampir life. Roland's feet crushed into some shattered glass as he observed the area, the only sound out of the many filling the air that wasn't foreign to this environment. The smoke and smiles had long since faded out of here with the raid bell and the patrons had fled away into the night.

"It seems like the vampires had been gathering here, but whatever could those creatures be doing in such large numbers?" Maria thought aloud.

"Whatever it is, it can't be good, " Georges replied.

"They can't have gotten too far. We should scour the city whilst we still have time. What say you, Captain?"

Roland hopped up on the stage, fingers tracing the bass that had been kicked over in the choas. It was dented now, the once pristine cherry wood work now chipped and tarnished.. He recognized the rosy tiny to the wood and the scuffs that littered the edges. He count all the new nicks along the sides. His eyes fell. Just how had this happened? How could he have been so blind? ______, his beloved, was a vampire this whole time. Who knew vampires could  be so articulate and cunning? Had it all been a lie? Those long nights talking and dancing, were they just a facade or was there some part of you that was genuine? Could vampires be genuine?

"Captain...? Are you alright?"

"...Quite!" He chirped, shaking himself back into gear. He stood, pulling on his captain's mask before commanding"Maria, take some of the corps and scrour the city. Those vampires cannot have gotten far, we cannot allow them to cause havoc."

"Right!" The blond waved signals to her men and darted out to the streets.

"And me, Sir?" Georges asked, hand on weapon.

"You Georges-" He stepped towards a side turned wine bottle with a catlike grin, swirling the remaining liquor in a circle "-are going to drink with me!"

"Sir... We're still on the clock. Shouldn't we report back on the situation?"

"Oh I'll file a detailed report later." He waved a dismissive hand "Now let's scout for any survivors,"

The chasseurs spent many hours scouting the city and found nothing. Their frustrations gew louder and louder as the hours went on and the search grew stale. If it hadn't been for Lucien's quick thinking some of the vampires may have been cuaght, but the elder's control over the burrough was unprecedented. The wouldn't find any vampire life at all if he had anything to say about it. Everyone was hauled up in secret hiding holdes, virtually invisble if you didn't know where to look. And soon, they had all disperesed back to their corners of the city; boarded into hotels, working behind a human disguise or, in your case, hunkering down inside of a rustic music shop. You'd burrowed deep into the corners of the room, a poor attempt at hiding from the wrath you knew was coming. You could hear it, Lucien's laboured footsteps and repeated sighs outside the door. When he came in, you knew for certain all hell would break loose. 

"I told you this would happen,"

"I know..."

"I told you to get rid of him,"

"I know..."

"Then why didn't you?"

You gave an exasperated sigh "I didn't think it'd get this far! I thought. I could manage it- handle it somehow- I don't know,"

"Your not knowing is why we're in this situation," Lucien snuffed out his cigarette " 'I don't know' winds up with people getting hurt and vampires without places to stay that I now have to house. I'm having to work my ass off here with next to no budget ______! And for what, a phase?"

"Roland was not a phase!"

His sharp eyes pierced across room, drilling into the mound where you'd sheilded yourself with cushions and weighted blankets. "For your sake he'd better be,"

You pulled the duvet tighter over your head, wiping your eyes. You hadn't been in this room since you were at secondary school. Lucien thought it best to keep you at his place for now, a safe house so to speak. There was nothing there but your old clothes, a bed too small for you and a single window overlooking the docks. His feet creaked against the floor as he approached and set down a bowl of soup and some water. The cob of bread sliced with a cross with a spot of butter in the centre. It was golden and glowing like Roland's hair and seemed to melt further and further away the more you looked at it.

"Eat," He said, drawing the curtain to cover the glaring sun "You need to rest. I'll get some work for you when you're up to it."

Then he escaped from the room almost like a shadow in the middle of the night, it was like he was never there.

It was just you alone in the dark with nothing but thoughts to keep you company.

Chapter Text

Paperwork. 

It wasn't exactly enjoyable but it needed doing, and if he was found slinking off again Olivier wouldn't be the slightest bit pleased. So Roland appended himself to the desk with a glass of water and picked up his quill. Seconds- minutes- hours went by and somehow he'd barely made it through a third of his assigned documents. Really he should have signed and submitted them  when they came by the fist time but he just couldn't bring himself to concentrate. Something was bothering him and on some level, he knew what it was but he refused to admit it. And the more he refused to admit it, the higher the paper stack went. 

He groaned, slumping into the desk with a heavy sigh. 

"Olivieeeeeer!" He whined, hoping the Obsidian would come be somewhere close by as he often was, but there was no reply.

He pursed his lips.

"Georges? Maria?"

The silence continued.

"Astolfo...?" 

Nothing.

It was odd that nobody would be around to hear so he got up and poked his head out to the hall way. The candles were burning but there were no personnel roaming the halls. Roland frowned, brow knitting as he mulled over the possibilities. Could there have been a mission he didn't receive the call for? Or perhaps there was a meeting he'd forgotten about?

"Strange..." He mused aloud. "I wonder where they could have gotten to."

He closed the door and then there was a knock at the window.

'Had there always been a window there?' He wondered, as he made his way over to the burnt umber curtain and drew it. He thought it might have been a nesting bird making a ruckus against the pain, or even a mischevious someone throwing rocks at the window but he was shocked to see you stood there in the rain, wings sprouted from your back, eyes red with passione. 

"Coucou!" You smiled, shattered the glass with a single touch. 

"You...?!" He muttered, body quaking involuntarily. The word come out like tar, thick and heavy with burden. He couldn't bring himself to say your name, doing so would mean admitting that you weren't human, that you were one of them.

"Bon soir ma chérie~" You chirped, floating into the work space. The rain water glowed making your skin appear as bronze.

Roland dove for his durandal only to find it turn to sand between his fingers.  His eyes widened as he pawed through the grains.

"What...?"

"You won't be needed that," You said, eyes glowing as you magic dissipated from the tips of your fingers. "After all I just want to talk."

"There's nothing to talk about," He hissed, hand slipping towards his desk. There were blinding pellets in the top drawer, if he could get his fingers into it he could catch you unawares! But the drawer wouldn't open.  His face skewed with panic. 

"Whatever is the matter dear?" You sung, hands clasped behind your back as you rocked on your heels . A mockingly cute display. "Aren't you happy to see me?"

He bit the inside of his cheek, the taste of cooper and confusion seeping into his mouth, eyes fastening on you from the other side of the desk. That question might have had a simple answer some nights ago.

"Well?" You asked before harshening your tone "Answer the question." 

Setting your hand on the table you shocked it of ice and watched it shatter into snowfall. You sauntered forward through the shimmers, smirking as he struggled to pick up his feet, frozen to the floor. 

Roland's heart raced, his teeth gritted and his face flushed. He couldn't compound them, the visage of his lover and the hungry beast before him. You loomed in, all it took was touching one long nail to his chest before you watched him topple backwards. The ice around his feet snapped in to scicles, freeing him to him to drag himself backwards away from you. Your smirk grew wider, excited by the chase your pursuit went on hands and knees crawling forth until you had him trapped between your wrists. 

"You seem tense," Your voice was sweet like syrup as your fingers walked up his chest and flicked open a single button. He flushed. You giggled. "Let's loosen you up a little."

Your tongue was serpentine across your teeth before you overtook him, lips and tongue dancing over his hot throat. 

"P-please..." He tried to keep his tone even through the battle of arousal and revulsion "Don't do this _______."

"Why ever not?" You asked, before whispering in his ear "Don't love me, darling?"

His eyes fell as he processed the question. He did love you, at least he thought he did. But you were a vampire, there was a whole other version of yourself, the true version of yourself that you'd le[t hidden... Was it betrayal or disgust holding him back? If he had to choose which version of you to keep, which would he pick? Wouldn't eliminating one destroy the other?

The silence was enough to make you freeze. This game- it wasn't fun of only one was playing. You backed up, wings shrinking, nails receeding until in front of him sat the same you from that night behind the bar; eyes red and streaming, smile hurt and remorseful.  

"I'm sorry..." Your words were small "I didn't mean for it to turn out like this..."

Those words again, the blood staining your lips, the broken look in your eyes... As he focused on your the room flickered out leaving the dark rainy alleyway with you in his arms. The two scenes, two versions human and vampires, flickered in and out so fast that his eyes felt like burning. 

"Roland..." You asked meekly and he feared for the thought of what you'd say next but somehow he knew what was coming "Are you scared of me...?"

He woke with a gasping start as the alarm bells blasted in the distance. He was spinning, breathing heavily, trying to put himself together. HE forced himself back, feeling the floor beneath his feet and the pen in his palm and the ink that had soaked through the page and stained his face.

"Captain!" Georges called from outside the work room "A vampire camp has been found on the outskirts of Paris! It must be the stowaways from the bar!"

He tuned in to the voice, slowly bringing himself break to reality. Then he found his own "Rally the forces, I'll catch up."

"Right!" Georges saluted "And uh, sir?"

"Yes Georges?" He flashaed the creases from his jacket and pulled it over his shoulders.

"You have... you've got a little something on your face," He gestured to the spot "Right there."

Roland sighed, wiping it with his thumb "Thank you, Georges."

The door closed with an aged clunk.

"Stoways from the bar..."

Would that mean they you might be...

'Put it out of your mind...' He told himself buttoning up the jacket and reaching for durandal. Its hilt was rugged and cool to the touch just as it had always been. 'There's a task ahead of us.'

His boots clacked against the floor, the sound of his gauntlets clicking closed slowly drowned out under the sound of the Jasper Divison's idle chatter. As soon as he graced the doors though they feel silent.   

"Alright, these stragglers are the last of those from our raid on The Old Boot. Let's show those vampires what happens when you cross the Jasper Division." His blade span into his hands with a flourish "Let's hunt!"

And with a hearty war cry, they rode out to battle.

Chapter Text

The old camp due west was not one that the chasers investigated regularly. It had been a thriving village once upon a time. Supposedly the higher ups had planned to convert it to a training camp at some point, but as they drew in closer it became obvious why that didn't happen. It had been reported that the area was abandoned, hardly touched since the 1300s. Evidently, that was not the case.

"Is that... a flag?" Maria asked as they drew in to the city.

"So it seems," Georges replied, noticing the red snowflake like symbol in the middle of the flying fabric. "Could it be that the vampires had been settled here?"

"Right under our noses," Maria's face turned in disgust as she drew her crossbow and shot it down promptly. "Cursed heretics. What shall we do Captain?"

Roland was quiet for a while as he took in the area. They were right, this space was lived in. Despite the weeds in the greenery, the flowers had been recently tended to and the thatch on the roofs recently repaired. His eyes hardened.

"Fan out and move quietly," He dusted the ground with his fingers, dusting away the sandy cover of the footprints. "They must be nearby"

"Right!"

Roland's walk through the complex was purposeful. His men had littered every inch of this place, fanning out like wasps from an angered hive. His duties now was to oversee it and ensure nothing else went awry. With each step he took, he took in more information until eventually he noticed a horse tucked behind a building; bridled up at that. The soldiers didn't seem to have noticed. Step by step he slowly approached the creature, sliding Durandal from its binds with a hungry hiss. Then, once the coast was clear he leapt around the corner crying:

"Put your hands up!"

The horse rider yelped, bolting upright and dropping the flowers in his hands. "Don't shoot!"

A human? Roland relaxed slightly "This area is under control of the chasseurs and is currently off limits sir. I have to ask you to leave."

"Oh I know that much," The man chuckled "I'm the one who called it in."

The Jasper lowered his weapons. "...Monsieur Vergier?"

"Jean-Pierre Vergier the Second." The gent nodded, fixing his waistcoat.

Instantly Roland's demeanour shifted. "Goodness, you'll have to forgive me! You have to be alert in these kinds of places.

"I understand. I suppose its only natural in your line of work." He drew from the satchel on his horse a book with post it notes sticking out of the sides and letters folded into it. "I'm a doctor you see. The medicinal herbs I need flourish in this environment so I had to ride out here to get some more." 

He began to flip through the pages one by one, pushing up his glasses (which he seemed much too young to be wearing) so as to read his notes better. The odd few papers fell out as he did so and Roland, being the gentleman that he was, picked them up. After all, it is not often you get to meet the heir to your sponsor's throne. They were usual things, prescription notes, to do lists and a photograph. A very particular photograph. Roland eyed it carefully as he stood up to hand it back. Within the frame was Monsieur Vergier, his wavy black hair parted down the centre, giving his gentle round face a much squarer, rugged look. He stood proudly next to a woman who seemed around his height when seated. Both were extraordinarily dressed and neither seemed particularly excited to be there. 

"Here," He handed the pictures back "That's a lovely photograph."

"It's my wife and I," He replied with a somber chuckle "She is... quite the character."

"Have you been married long?" 

"I couldn't say," He shrugged, putting the book away "Arranged marriage."

"I see," Said Roland "Well, she seems wonderful."

He began saddling up the horse again "Are you interested? Knowing Belladonna she would welcome the excitement."

"I'm sorry?" He laughed off his suprise "No, not at all my good man! I shan't deprive you!"

Jean-Pierre scoffed "Deprive me,"  Was all he said before mounting his steed "What was your name?"

"Roland Fortis," He replied "I hold the Jasper seat."

The two held eye contact for a while. Roland remained neutral and pleasant whilst Jean-Pierre seemed to be searching and suspicious. Roland didn't budge though.

"I shall remember you Roland. Farewell." 

And with that, the young Vergier was off. All that was left now was for Roland to finish clearing out the vampires. Every building seemed to be checked apart from a tavern on the far side.

They might have had some success with finding the vampires in hiding if it had been any vampire other than Lucien McFere on the case. He knelt in the dusty outhouse holding up the escape hatch and ferrying escapees through it. This abandoned town had been a safe holding for years now, but now that those chasseur rats were on the case it would go back to ruins. 

"Come, quickly!" He hissed, looking through a crack in the window as one by chasseurs broke into the buildings. "Continue moving west, I'll catch up with you. "

"Wait," The chef of The Olde Boot grabbed his wrist before going down, eyes peeking from beneath his huge furry eyebrows "Darcei isn't here!"

"What? Where is she?"

"The old tavern," He pointed out of the door "she went to look for supplies before the flag was shot down!"

Lucien's jaw tightened. The ruins were crawling with pests. If she was in the tavern her best chance at survival would be to hide in there somehow and pray she didn't get caught. But Darcei was young and her fawn like curiosity would no doubt get her into trouble unless someone got to her first. 

"I'll get her," He sighed "Make sure the community reach the third settlement."

The chef nodded, his large red nose bouncing in agreement "You have my word"

The hatch fell closed. Lucien pressed himself close to the concrete, listening in to the footsteps and thuds that echoed through the floor. There were quite a few of them; twelve entering one building in the distance and another lot coming his way. He'd have to be quick, he thought, kicking some hay over the hatch and clambering out of the window onto the roof. 

"I'm gettin' too old for this..." He groaned before falling into the wind.

There were some juniors coming to the shack to scour it, but the vampire was gone long before they had the chance to open the door. His feet hardly hit the floor. His body floated with the leaves in the wind, curving the around corners, invisible as the breeze itself. He found a window around the back. It had been left open for long enough to seal it in a position just large enough for him to squeeze through. 

He was in some kind of storage cupboard. Dried up paint buckets and broken broomsticks littered the area. He grabbed a couple but he prayed he wouldn't actually have to use them. After opening the door he glanced around area. It was about as barren as you'd expect for an old tavern. Chairs and tables in the distance just about held up their own weight in the main lounge area. It still held a lot of life. When light hailed through the windows like it was doing on a spring day like today, you could practically see the travellers rushing in to warm up on a break from their hectic travels. Lucien might have been one of them once upon a time. 

A yelp from upstairs broke the fantasy. 

"Darcei..?!" 

He wasted not a second, leaping onto the bar and swinging his body up over the bannister to see his worst nightmare. That Jasper paladin standing over one of his own. 

"Get away from her!" He yelled, javelining the boom handles like spears at the jasper. 

Roland swivelled around teeth gritted, and in that moment Lucien's eyes filled with carnage as he drove the stake through him. The paladin was skewered to the wall behind, the broom skewering through his right shoulder. He screamed out in pain and right then Lucien wavered. This paladin was ______'s paladin. As easy as it would have been to annihilate him then and there, as much as he certainly deserved it, he had the other wepaon ready to drive through his heart but he couldn't do it. He couldn't hurt them again. Not now. Instead, he started for Darcei.

"You okay?" Lucien swept Darcei up and checked her over. She nodded weakly. She was a little shaken up but she didn't seem hurt. "Hold on tight."

"No you don't...!" Roland hissed, whipping out Durandal with his free arm. He'd hoped to grab the heretic by the neck but he was nimble despite his age and managed to escape with only a strike across his back. By the time his men had gathered to his side, the vampires were nowhere in sight.

"Captain, whatever happened to you?!" Maria said, rushing to his side to pull the stake as Georges played medic. 

Roland took a moment to think. That vampire could have killed him but it didn't or perhaps it wouldn't. He hissed holding his head.  

"The vampire got away, but I was able to strike it. It shouldn't last long," He explained as they bandaged up his arm "the compound is clear, the hunt is over."

"Over? But captain, if that vampire got away then shouldn't we hunt it down?" Georges insisted

He shook his head "There's no need. Besides, I'm certain that if it does survive it'll lead to something rather interesting in the future. For now, send a report that the escapees have been handled. Let us return to the catacombs."

"Right."

It hesitated, Roland thought for a second that vampire certainly hesitated. He had done the same. Because for a brief moment, that heretic greatly resembled the music shop owner ______ had shown them. But that couldn't be right, if it was the case then that would mean that his beloved was also a vampire. Perhaps the worst part of it was that he knew that they were. 

As the Chasseurs made their way back to the base Roland thought over that fight again and again. His mind began to tumble. It certainly looked feral but it didn't attempt to maul him and it even seemed to have a semblance of compassion for it's companion. Was compassion something those things could feel? Was love something that they understood?

Something wasn't adding up. All this time the Chasseurs had been taught that vampires were crimson eyes heretics with an unquenchable blood lust and history had proven that was consistently the case until recently. Was this a new phenomena? Or were the huntsman's teachings twisted? Either way he was starting to form a hypothesis and for it to be fully formed he'd need a vampire on his side.

The only question was where exactly would be find one?

Chapter Text

You checked Lucien's note before ringing the bell. When you woke up that morning you found it on top of a neatly pressed uniform and a cold plate of fried eggs and your favourite meat. After hauling yourself out of the pile of dirty blankets and half finished sheet music, you decided the smell of the cooking was too delicious to leave alone. And after all, it had been some days since you'd last found the strength to pass food to your lips. Lucien was strict but he wasn't unreasonable. The instructions were simple. There was a client who wanted a personal musician. You were to go the property, play and leave. Lucien made it a point, as he always did, to remind you of your Ps and Qs which in his book meant:

• Don't upset the client.

• Don't touch anything in their house. Not even the floor.

• Don't take anything the offer you. Not even a glass of water.

• Don't overstay your welcome. Play and then pack up. 

• Get the money and go.

This home was fairly large and the gates were intimidating. You didn't doubt that there would be dogs behind those gates and you didn't care much to be chased by greyhounds. Alas, it seemed the address was indeed correct and you would have to brave whatever beast lay behind these tall iron bars.

Almost as soon as you raised your hand to ring the bell did maid appear from the front door.

" ______ _________?"

"Yes that's me,"

"Please, do come in,"

The gates began to slide open, some kind of automated system churning them open. The gravel pavement crunched and crackled beneath your feet. The air was icy and cold and the wind tempted to bowl you over every gust it blew. You went as fast as your legs would carry you, and as the doors shut closed behind you, you instantly began to sweat. It wasn't that it was particularly warm in here but with all the layers you had on it was certainly enough to prompt perspiration.

"May I take anything?" A server girl asked you.

"Oh yes. I'll need this to perform," You began, handing over your playing stool and winter wear. "Where exactly will I be performing?"

The items effortlessly filled her hand as if they had always been a part of her body "You will be in the third lounge today. But first I must kindly request you to change clothes."

"Excuse me?" You rubbed your hands together to fend off the cold in your fingertips "This is my unifom, I won't play in anyhing else."

"Be that as it may, the Mistress is very sensitive about smells. I must request that you shower and change clothes," She attempted to grab your instrument as well but you promptly dissuaded her from it.

"Well... alright," you grumbled, setting the instrument into the third room and coming back. You thought of Lucien's note for a moment but...you weren't neccessarily taking anything by having a shower. That was just general cleanliness. You did have a bath before coming here but you couldn't risk upsetting a client over something so trivial. "but I will be putting these clothes back on. I have nothing else."

"That can be rectified."

"No, I-"

"This way please."

She was already walking off with a painfully expresisonless face. You huffed and followed behind her. Perhaps if you'f chosen to leave then, things might have turned out for the better. She lead you upstairs, past the fine wooden banisters and into a pristine bathroom with marble style flooring. The maid had even tried to undress you but after some (much) persuasion you were able to convince her you were entirely capable of doing so yourself. She did, however, set the water for you.

The pan head shower was warm, it felt like a waterfall running across your back. You had to remind yourself a few times not to lose yourself in the flow and spend an entire hour lavishing in steam. Tossing the towel over your shoulders you stepped out and set the shower cap aside. As you turned to the vanity though, you noticed your clothes weren't where you had set them.

"Hello?" You called "You took my uniform!"

There was no response so you cracked open the door to the hallway.

"Hello?! My clothes?!"

Silence rang out again. All that was in the hall was the rouge coloured carpet, perfect white walls and a smalll basket with some material and gloves on the top. You grumbled and drew them in.

"They'd better at least have my sizes right..."

The clothes were... fine. You could ignore the itch of fragrance that bothered your back and sides. The corset top in the pile would do, you told yourself as you pulled on the trousers. The shirt and tie that matched the suit just barely fit, you threw them on without finishing right the way to the top. After all, you'd be leaving in an hour or so anyways. And so you began to wrestle with it; to battle with the lace behind your back in an attempt to hook into the aglets. The cursed thing must have had a mind of its own. It promptly defeated you after around ten minutes of combat leaving you huffing over the sink with cramped hands and a very uneven lace. You were extremely close to setting the damn thing on fire in the bathroom bin bucket and you certainly would have had a certain sweet rosemary like scent not caught your nose. You whipped around like lightning.

"M-Ms Beatrice! What are you doing here?"

"You ask as if this is not my home," She eyed you over from her position atop a cabinet, cross legged, fan pulsing rhythmically "please don't stop on my account."

'My home?!' You gulped, rushing to clutch a towel over yourself. What benefit it served you didn't know, she was certainly undressing you with her eyes. 'The tab said the client was Monsieur Vergier, not Madame Beatrice!'

"Oh darling, there's nothing there I haven't seen already. I've been enjoying your little show for some time now," She set the fan down and prowled towards you. She tickled beneath your chin "Don't be shy now dear. Go on,"

"Uh...I'm going to have to ask you to leave," You felt your body tensing up. You robotically backed away until she has you pinned against the sink unit. "This is outside of the agreement,"

"Nonsense," She flipped you around and drew the corset strings tight making you whine "Now let's get you dressed, shall we?"

Her fingers were exceedingly nimble, you could feel a burning trail with each pass she made over the boning. You could even feel them looping behind you. She reached in, tucking your body just to her tastes within the contraption. You tried not to show the signs. To cover up your heightened pulse and tightening grip on the ceramic. To bite back the pained whimpers and nervous sweats.

"What's the matter dear," She took the liberties to smooth that corset down around you, indulging in your shivers and nervous jolts as she closed the gap behind you "you smell nervous,"

You couldn't look away, her eyes latched onto yours in the mirror holding them in a state of hypnosis. Her chest pressed against your back forcing you forward across the platform.

"Ms Beatrice please," The pleading seemed to please her until you added "I-I am here only to play for you today, that is as much as the c-contract covers,"

Her smile faded, eyes becoming heavy. She knotted herself into the lace, wrenching the corset with a drive to snap you in twain "Are you giving me orders?" She hissed when you arched back far enough to reach her shoulder.

"N-no Ms Beatrice, I would never!" You gasped, nigh levitation in an attempt to keep sewn together "I-It's just-"

"It's just what?" Her long nails careened around your neck

You panted, catching what little breath you could and croaking "I-If you do this now I won't be able to play,"

"If I do what exactly?"

"If.... If you drink my blood... you'll void the contact"

Her fangs had already begun to stretch out over your shoulder, you could feel her hot breath as she hissed over you. But she stopped. This wasn't it. This wasn't the toe curling, heart racing reaction she wanted. You weren't playing. You were supposed to whimper and beg, to resist but only so much and yet here you were, fully defiant behind the eyes tightly shut. Something else was on your mind, no, someone else was on your mind. This simply wouldn't do. With a final yank of the string and a complex not, Beatrice stepped away.

"Fix your face, and come downstairs. And be quick about it. I'll be waiting,"

And just like that, she ghosted away leaving you to get ready for the performance.

You came down to find her sat neatly, just like she was when you'd first met. Upon the Chaise Lounge she lay, fan beating across her face lazily as she picked cranberries from the stem. One by one, monotonously she plucked then not one did she eat. 

"Come," She said, hearing your stilettos click uncomfortably upon the marble "Sit."

You followed her command, coming over although hesitantly. "Ms Beatrice...I really am only contracted to-"

"Sit." She hissed, and like a dog you did so, right upon the edge. She seemed satisfied "Very good."

There was a long gap between you was no match for her long slender arms. In one swift move she grabbed the neck tie and drag you over. She seemed to like how helplessly you looked up at her, golden eyes quaking beneath her hungry red ones. . This new show of defiance was intresting. Whereever it had stemmed from, it would be easy enough to break and quite the treat too. She needed a puppy for what she had in mind.

"What's the matter dear," She asked "you won't sing got me today?"

You took a breath. "I will play for you..." You swallowed hard "I cannot offer much more than that."

"Oh? You weren't so callous the other night. What happened between then and now? You don't want to have any fun? Your mind flickered back to the sadness in Roland's eyes a few nights ago. Beatrice latched on fast. She took your chin, leading you to face her "I understand. You must miss your friends. I can't imagine how sad that must be. But you can still see me. Isn't that enough? I'll give you thrice as much as any your other clients could. And I'm much better company, wouldn't you agree?"

You opened your mouth to respond but the words wouldn't form. You kept thinking about The Olde Boot. Was everyone okay? Did Miss Darcei make it out alright? And Luna Pulse, what of them? You hadn't heard from them in a while either.

You forced a smile, trying and failing to hide the pain in your chest and balance the contract with the solace being held in front of you. "Yes, of course Ms Beatrice. You're very kind"

She ran her tongue across her teeth before she leant into your lips. You melted into her touch, her warmth then pulled away.

You caught your breath "No, Madame, we can't do this. The contract- nnh!"

She growled and tugged you in again, baring down heavy and heavy, biting at your lips. A moan crept up before you pushed away again.

"The..." You were short on breath "The contract you signed d-doesn't allow me to- nmph!!"

She kept on and on,no matter how you protested or tried to speak she would steal your lips again.

Don't upset the client. You could hear Lucien saying. If you blow this job, I don't know where I'll find another one.

Eventually you closed your eyes and gave into it.  It was no use. The contract was meaningless here. Perhaps that was a good thing. Perhaps, if you sunk into her seduction, at some point you'd forget about him, but in the back of your mind you couldn't help but wish the one working down your neck and knotting you stomach was Roland.

The lady of the Vergier house was a sly woamn had hired you as a private entertainer for the day to her abode in upper class Paris. You'd sing or play anything she requested, though evidently at that particular moment in time that meant offering yourself up, both in blood and body. She was doing it to make you feel better, you told yourself as she drank you up, it was her way of showing she cared.

"You know what you need?" She began between licks at your wounded neck "A trip to Altis Paris."

"A-altis?" You began, groaning as she pushed you down onto your back "I-I've never been,"

"Then it's decided. I shall take you to Altis,"

"But-," Your breath hitched "Ms Beatrice, we can't do that. I can't simply leave Paris without letting someone know,"

"I just want to spoil you darling," She trained your wavering eyes onto hers "Don't you like it when I spoil you?"

"I-I do, but-"

"But?" You whined as she blew at your ear, willing yourself to not lose focus.

"T-there are rules in place. This should be a purely-" She began to nibble at you again making you gasp "A p-purely! Performance arrangement,"

"If that's the case then you've already broken then agreement sweetie," She purred as she played with your hair "Don't worry, I'll take good care of you. Come, lets go" 

Serendipitously, her husband walked in at that time. You hurried to sit up. Rolling out from beneath her as quickly and descreetly as you could and faking like you were getting something out of your case.

"So this is the musician you talk so highly of?" He handed off his coat and bags to a maid and took a seat beside her.

"_____ _______ sir, pleasure to meet you," You took a bow, hoping your clothes weren't so out of place that he'd suspect something and refuse to pay you. Ms Beatrice simply  picked up her fan and leant into him. A gesture he clearly had no glee for.

"They're very good honey," Ms Beatrice said "Why don't you play that song I like so much darling?"

"E-Elegia Number 3?" You mentally flipped to the sheet music in your head "of course, right away Ms Beatrice,"

You took some breaths as you rushed to set up your instrument and play. The music would clear your mind, surely it would. After all, you loved music more than anything in the world. IT was good to you before Beatrice, before...him. You played though the movement and took some more request for Monsieur Vergier before packing away. The lady waited and waited and the look in her eyes told you that she would continue to wait until she got her way. Although you didn't care to see how time would shift her mood.

Don't upset the client.

Don't upset the client.

Don't upset the client.

'Just to Altis,' You told yourself as you loaded up and made your way to her side 'After the trip to Altis I won't see her anymore,'

Chapter Text

This day off started as it often did for Roland. He returned from his shift, hit the showers, changed and then went out for drinks with Olivier. They were both tired after an arduous shift, so rather than staying up all night they were only out for a few hours. It was unusual, Olivier thought, that Roland did not plead for them to hit another bar on the way home. Rather, he claimed that he had some thinking to do and went along on his merry way. Or as merry as he could have been in his position.

“Tell me Olivier,” He began as they walked through the twilight streets “What would you do if you were walking on a hot summers day, but then you were hit with a bout of rain?”

“That's... a strange question. But I suppose it depends on how bad the rain is,” Said Olivier, pulling on his gloves.

“Torrential. Abhorrent. There’s even hail even though the forecast for the week said it was supposed to be sunny, and you had plans to enjoy the weather with a certain wonderful someone-”

Oliver raised an eyebrow, looking confused.

Roland continued “-but now its raining and you don’t particularly hate the rain, but you’re soaked through, you’re bleeding, and you’re thoroughly confused because this isn’t what you signed up for-”

“Roland,”

“-and now you’re just stood there looking foolish and wondering why she didn’t tell you about this in the first place?!”

She?

“Roland!” Olivier grasped his shoulders tightly. “On days like that, you do not stand still. You take shelter until the rain passes. Or get an umbrella at the very least if you must carry on.”

“Oh... I see...”

Roland began to breathe again. At some point he had started to hold his breath although neither party could tell when.

“Good grief. I’m not certain where this sudden obsession with the weather came from. You nearly tore your stitches,” He rolled his eyes “Regardless, I should be getting back to the barracks. What say you?”

Roland paused, considering the advice for a moment then he looked towards the rising sun in the distance. “I’ll be off this way. There’s... store clerk I need to see.”

The Olde Boot had been bordered off by the council now and was due to be thoroughly cleansed of any vampire residue over the following week. It was a rather intense process, stripping the building of any semblance of life that was in it and burning all the upholstery, even if it were good to use. The once rustic, homey bar was now nothing more than a husk full of rubble.

Meeting Noé the other day had begun to open Roland’s eyes as to what a vampire really was. Noé was completely different to what he knew of vampires, he wasn’t savage or out of control and he certainly didn’t carry any kind of malice towards humanity. It made him begin to consider the severity of the church’s treatment of vampires. Was all of this really necessary just because vampires were found to be using the area?

He approached the building slowly and stood outside. He would have been able to get in if he had shown his jasper cross, but that would probably also get him a whole heap of paperwork to justify the entry and he wasn’t about to do that willingly. He just wanted to see it, the place where it had all happened, evaluate it with renewed eyes. The closer he got, the more distinct the voices became. He pressed up against the brick before carefully looking around the corner to see three suited figures standing just outside the doors and talking. They weren't chasseurs or officials, so what exactly were they doing here?

“This sucks!” The roundest said, kicking a piece of rubble with his shining leather shoes “I used to love this place!”

“We all did. Such a shame that its gone...” Said the tallest, holding a hand delicately against his cheek.

“I swear once I find who did it-!”

“Do what? You'll be up against the chasseurs. C’mon Dante, we all know that’s not happening.” The shortest said, adjusting her arm in a sling.

Roland narrowed his eyes. Were these also vampires? They looked so human it was difficult to tell. Then again, what did a vampire look like really?

Dante kissed his teeth “Whatever, lets just get a move on.”

“Hold on a second,” The tallest said. Slowly their attention shifted towards the drain pipe on the corner of the building. It creaked and swayed in the sandalwood wind. “ It seems we’ve acquired a peeping Tom.”

The other two sniffed the air. Johann’s nose was always much stronger than the others so they knew to trust it.

“Get out here!” Dante yelled, storming over “Before I make ya!”

Roland gulped, quickly adjusting himself and stepping out with his hands up. He wore a plain grin as he turned to see them, chameleoning into an average civilian . “I come in peace! I was simply passing by and I heard you lamenting about this place. Such a shame to see a fine establishment like this closed up... Were you regulars?”

The smaller lady nodded and continued “Yes, a friend of ours worked at this bar. We haven't heard from her since the place fell apart though. You wouldn’t happen to know them would you? _______ who plays contrabass?”

“You’re looking for _____?”

“You know her?”

“Of course! We were…” He took a pause, considering his choice of words “close before this place closed down. I just hope she's okay,”

“She probably is,” Risu smiled, starting to head off. “Come on, Dante.”

Dante was laser focused on Roland’s face. Something was bothering him since he stepped out of the shadows but he couldn't quite picture why. There was something unnervingly familiar about this guy, not that he'd met him before but he knew his face from somewhere. Like a celebrity perhaps? Or maybe he was a bank teller?

“Oh Dante~” Johann sang. They didn’t exactly have time to spend talking to strangers. After all they had gathered all the information they needed from this area. It was now time to get across the barrier.

“Yeah, yeah I’m coming.” Dante growled. The two gents shouldered a large box, taking one off the chunky brass handles each and hoisting it off the floor. Then the three of them headed off into the distance.

They took it up with relative ease so it likely wasn’t all that full. And judging by its dimensions, a body could be folded in simply enough… a mischievous grin spread across Roland’s face.

‘Hold on _____,’ He thought to himself, slipping away into the shadows ‘I’m coming.’

The work of an information broker was never done. It was fortunate that Lucien’s request came in when they were heading to Marquis Machina anyway otherwise they would be making the trek to Altis for not much pay again. It was always a tiring trip. Unlike normal vampires who could just pass through the gate with no issues, the dhams would always come out with some kind of side effect at the end of it. The warden was good to them and always gave them a little medicine to help them on their way but it only lasted so long. And with the chest in their hands weighing them down, the drugs would probably wear off long before they reached the other side 

The three of them entered the old bookstore, and gave the bookie a nod. Unlike most vampires, they weren’t able to make their eyes glow red at will. Their uniform though gave them other recognisable traits which gave them freeway between worlds. With the small red glasses in hand, the trio stood in a circle.

“I hate this part…” Dante groaned

“It won’t get any easier if we don’t do it though,” Risu sighed.

“Down the hatch…” Johann forced a smile and with that, they gulped down the shot.

It wasn’t a fun shot like the flaming ones you would get at a bar at a birthday party, nor was it sweet an refreshing like a freshly squeezed juice on a Saturday morning stroll. The Warden's Shot was a bitter brew, it burned your throat at left an obnoxiously sugary after taste. It prickled and oozed it’s way down and the flavour wouldn’t shift no matter how much you brushed or gargled. Twelve hours you would be reminded of its taste and you would be glad of it to not suffer the gut-wrenching consequences of travelling without.

When they had finished writhing, Dante and Johann recalibrated and went back to their original task. But when they leant down to pull up the box, they found that getting the thing off the floor was near impossible. They frowned, locked eyes and tried again.

“C’mon guys, let’s get moving,” Risu said, holding open the door for the gate as she scratched at her tongue.

“Do you wanna lift it?” Dante hissed, entering a sumo squat to get a better grip. His face bulged up like a bull frog as he yanked up.

“Can’t,” Risu indicated cockily to her bandaged arm.

“Then shut up and hold the door!”

“Alright, alright you two,” Johann sighed, mirroring Dante’s poise as they wrenched up the box and began to crab shuffle across the void.

Within the box, Roland lay perfectly still. Cramping yourself into such a tight space wasn’t exactly on his training remit but had made it work, tetrising his body into a half foetal napkin. With his knees bent and his arms folded up above his head, all he would need now was some cuffs on his wrists and it would be a hostage situation. It would have to do though. An hour in this position was nothing if it meant he could find you in the end. He closed his eyes and tried to settle himself, taking amusement in the slapstick arguments happening outside the case.

The dham’s made it across the barrier relatively quickly and went about their duties. The box jolted to a stop after a while and when all was quiet, Roland assumed it was in storage. He listened out to the air around him – quiet. Cautiously he cracked the top and scanned the area and he was simply in awe of his surroundings.

The tiny hut he was in was nothing out of the ordinary. A humble abode with a dining table in the centre of this multi-purpose space, there were some stairs leading to a small upstairs sleeping area and a tattered sofa that had been rescued in the corner. But from the windows he could see a great red world. It was simultaneously beautiful and horrifying. He found himself drawn to the window, pulling the curtains aside to get a better look.

The sky was laden with the colour, the clouds hung in heavy maroon patches across the canvas and a sparkling spray was in place where stars should have been.

“My God…” He muttered, struggling to take it all in. In his dumbfounded state, he didn’t even realize that the dhams were at the door. They hadn’t really left at all, they simply stepped outside to read their maps, plan and clear the nausea that clung to their minds. Both parties continued their trajectory blissfully unaware of what was about to unfold before them.

“Alright so we’re leaving the crate for now?” Johann said as he opened the door. Roland snapped his view over to the creaking door.

“Yeah, it’s too damn heavy,” Dante rolled up the map and pocketed it “Dunno how a hollow box can suddenly weigh the same as a fully grown adult but it is what it is. We can recon easier if we aren't lugging it around anyways. ”

In that moment, Roland had a choice. He could:

1. Disguise himself with the environment, cowering beneath the low desk or tucking himself into a window frame above him. Both of which were relatively far away and require him to use one of him chasseur injections to pull off the manoeuvre in good time

Or:

1. Hold perfectly still and let nature take it’s course. There would be a chance that the people coming in wouldn’t notice him and he could slide out the door undetected.

But of course that isn’t what happened at all.

Roland reacted a fraction too late. He’d intended to back into the wall and press against it, but the dhams had already entered the room by then and caught onto the movement. And thus an awkward bout of staring commenced.

Roland stared.

The dhams stared.

Roland blinked.

The dhams frowned.

Roland gave an awkward laugh.

“The hell is this guy?”

“Ah… It seems I’ve been caught…”

The dhams flew into action, brandishing table wear, coal rods and carving knives as weapons and fangs as long as they could manage. Dante was upon Roland quickly, twisting his collar in his hand.

“Alright wise guy, who are you?!”

“I come in peace! I promise!”

“Not the question I asked you…” Dante pulled back his fist.

“Hold on!” Johann yelled, much to Dante’s displeasure. He inched forward and adjusted his glasses, taking in every detail of the intruders body. “He seems familiar…”

"Yeah, he does right?!" Dante yanked him up by the collar.

This was already going poorly. If these were vampires it was best to let them make their own assumptions and adjust their positions as necessary. He wasn’t as good as manipulating as Olivier was but if it came down to it he would lie through his teeth and repent later.

“That’s it!” Johann cried “You’re that chasseur friend of Noé’s!”

The breath caught in Roland’s throat. They knew Noé?

“You are, aren’t you? Bright green eyes and bushy blond hair; that’s the description he used.”

“Well, I wouldn’t bushy…”

“So it is you!” Johann shed his menacing aura like one would throw off a raincoat indoors “Set him down Dante he’s a friend!”

Dante seemed unconvinced “Is he though?”

“Well, if Noé trusts him he must be a good person,” Johann reasoned

“Noé trusts everyone. I’m not buying it,” Dante snapped.

Risu hummed in agreement. "He is a chasseur, what if he attacks us?"

“Please, I assure you I have no ill intentions. Despite my station, I want to know everything I can about vampires. Noé helped me to see that not everything we were taught about your kind is true,”

Dante scoffed, tossing him down “Your kind,”

“You… are vampires, are you not..?” Roland edged the question

“Only half,” Johann sang “we’re dhampirs.”

“Dhampirs…” The chasseur echoed, tossing the word back and forth in his mouth until it felt right. The world of vampires was so new and unfamiliar. Who knew there were half blood roaming around freely like these three? That meant that at some point a human must have fallen for a vampire. And if that was the case then maybe his feelings for you weren’t so complex after all. He found himself smiling, chuckling as his cheeks grew rosey.

The dhams were very confused by this. Dante especially voiced his disgust with a loud eurgh.

“Are we sure this guy has it all together?”

“Sorry, sorry it’s just,” He cleared his chest of his final laugh “You’ve given me hope is all.”

“Hope?” Risu asked

Roland nodded “Hope that I really could be with the one I love.”

Risu covered her mouth and gasped, an elaborate tale of two houses playing out on her mind. How scandalous! A chasseur in love with a vampire?! How truly, marvellously taboo! Which one would forsake their own family? Would the Jasper scale buildings and defy the laws of his station simply to love how he chose to?! She was invested and enraptured by Roland in seconds, quickly rushing over to hold his hands.

“You can be with them, Romeo, you can!” She cried “And we’re going to help you!”

“What?!” The others said in unison

“Team meeting! Now!!” Dante yelled, dragging his infirmed sibling across the room for a team huddle.

“Risu dear, I’m really not sure you should be making promises like that” Johann urged.

“But Johann, we’re doing this for love! The most powerful force in the world! Who knows, maybe the lucky vampire is somewhere here in Altis! That’s hardly any trouble right? We're already here!”

“Well, perhaps but we do have an awful lot on our plates already. I’m not sure this is wise,”

“Hold on a sec I’m actually with Risu on this one,” Dante chimed in much to the other’s surprise. “Think about it. We don’t know much about this case except for what Lucien told us and the fact that chasseurs raided the joint afterwards. I’m going out on a limb here, but what are the chances a chasseur comes back to the place that got raided and happens to know the person who got lost in the raid?”

They all looked up at Roland across the room. He gave them a wave.

“You’re right!” Risu hissed excitedly, looking around to Johann who instantly caught the vibe “And he even followed us here somehow, he must know something!”

“And if we have information he wants...” Johann passed the thought to Dante

“We can make him work to get it~” Dante smirked

“Ooo! I love it when a plan comes together!” Risu trilled, doing a little happy dance in place “But how are we going to get him around Altis though? We can't be the only ones who would recognise him,”

“He's going to need a new look… I can handle that.” Johann nodded “There’s some spare uniforms in the back.”

Dante grinned deviously "Yeaaahhh. Lets get it done!"

“Hoosha!”

The three of them put their hands in the middle for a three way high five and then stood up, straightened their jackets and made their way back over to the blond who was waiting, someone anxiously by the table.

“Alright Jasper, listen up. We’ll help you find your lover or whatever,” Dante offered, keeping his hands in his pockets.

“You will!? Oh thank you!” Roland beamed

“Here’s the deal though. You’re not in Vieux Paris anymore Dorothy, this is Altis. That means you’re with us now. Stick close, keep your head down and don’t interfere with our work.”

“Of course, I completely understand. Although, if I might ask, what exactly is your work?”

“We’re information brokers,” Johann said, coming out of a tall closet with a long black and red uniform wrapped in dry cleaners plastic and a thick tub of hair gel in hand “and now so are you.”

Chapter Text

Altis Paris. A dark and marvelous place. Its night was red as blood and it’s day full of haze.

Unlike Vieux Paris, elite society in Altis was bustling. Lord’s and ladies, kings and queens, they all lived lavish lives up in their tall towers and grand mansions. They would waste their days away arguing legislations whilst gorging themselves on the heart of the sweetest fruits.

People like that were the ones responsible for keeping the less fortunate safe from the humans that hunted in the night. People like that also loathed the humans and rightfully so, they had suffered much at the hands of those weaker creatures. There were those, like Lord Ruthven, who had tried once upon a time to bridge the gap between humans and vampires. Those attempts however always turned out in failure and there was always hell to pay; an eternal reminder in the form of a missing eye.

In other cases though, there were the dham’s. The dhampir trio did not know their parents. Even those with great memory like Dante did could hardly remember their mothers touch but they could remember the pain of being cast aside. There were many years of suffering for them, not being accepted by either side. But then they realised, being both and neither gave them the unique ability to be both and neither- to intercede. No human wanted to speak to a vampire, but every human would speak to a human and every vampire would speak to a vampire.

“But we aren’t vampires though!” Young Dante had argued as he rummaged through a skip for some shoes to burn.

“We’re vampire enough!” Little Risu had snapped back as she bore her singular fang.

“We might as well try it,” Johann, in the middle of his growth spurt, pushed up his chipped and dented glasses “It’s either that or we dumpster dive for the rest of our lives. And I, for one, am tired of having old croissant stuck in my nails.”

It was fortunate that Count Orlok was a sympathetic man. Any other high power vampire would have scoffed and turned them away but the Count operated with a sense of logic. There was a distinct gap in the market for a middle man and here there were three half-blood volunteers. There was no risk presented by sending them in at all. They were green and needed training, but that could be arranged. He had clothed them, fed them and trained them well enough so that in due course they could do all of that on their own. They would make their connection, sell their information and weave paper thin a paper thin chain of knowledge that kept high society high. This inivisble foundation was built up by the outcast and kept up by the outcasts – they were the Dhampir trio after all, and their services earned theme a... selective breed of respect.

“Dante, buddy, welcome back! You brought Johann and Risu this time” The bar tender polished the glass in his hand as the crew leant up against the bar.

This was Stanli. He was the sixth owner of the bar Twilight and one member of society that everybody knew for good reason. Twilight was a family business and had been for the last thousand years. When you were inside it didn’t matter who or what you were, everybody came for one of two things; a good drink or a good tme. Becuase of this Stanli had one ear to the ground at all times and knew things about people they probably didn’t even know themselves.

He poured out three lemon sours and slid them over the amber stone bar. He stopped short at the new member though observing the broker unifrom, zigzag band peeling the hair off of his forehead and the small glasses balanced on the bridge of his freckled nose.

“And who might this be?” He asked

“This is Fortisimo” Johann beamed, obnoxiously proud of his handiwork “Isn’t he adoraable?”

Roland gave him a polite smile.

“I guess he is,” He tossed his cloth over his shoulder “So what can I get you my friend? First timers get a free drink,”

Roland looked to the dhams to confirm before going on “I’ll take a whiskey, chiled if you don’t mind,”

“Coming right up,” Stanli turned, hands gliding straight for the bottle without even really needing to see it. You could tell a lot about a person based on what they liked to drink.

“Is that a good idea? The day hasn’t started yet, we need you on high alert,” Risu leant across and whispered

“It’ll be fine, I’ve been told on several occasions that I absorb liquour like sponge.” He pushed up he glasses a little as he took his glass.

She took his word for it. There were no rumours about drunkard paladins running around so he must have had at the very least a comprehension of how severe the situation.

Her eyes lingered just past him as she straightened up, observation hidden by her glass. There was a peculiar woman on the other side of the elliptical bar. Tall, obnoxiously tall with a dress that seemed a little too elaborate for the status her behavior indicated. The server on the other side of the desk gave her a drink in a beautifully wide glass with more decorations than liquid and beside it two masquerade masks; one gold, one sapphire blue.

Ice, drink, lid, and shake.

“So,” She said casually “what’s on tonight?”

Stanli raised an eyebrow “Nothing gets past you does it, Risu? They’re holding a ball at House Du Frois, seems like they’ve finally found a way in.”

“Really? Didn’t the old Marquis lock it down with some kind of spell?”

“The family building, yes. But they were able to break into the main building with some human machinery.” He explained, cracking the mixer and letting the drink hiss within “Although there’s this rumour- and it is just a rumour..."

The brokers all leant in. Stanli glanced up as he began the pour.

“...Word on the street is, someone found the heir. The whole thing is all just a big debutante for them. Whoever they are.”

They all shared a look as Stanli finished the drink, garnish and delivery without so much as a look Fortissimo’s way until it was in his hand.

“Can you get us in?” Dante asked

“Can I get you in?” The bartender repeated with a mocking laugh “My dear, all you had to do was ask~"

The carriage door opened and closed shaking the whole vehicle. You hardly ever noticed until the lady spoke.

“I’m back darling. You didn’t miss me too much, did you?”

Your eyes were fixed on that building- Twilight it was called.

It was nothing like The Olde Boot, it’s sign was a beautiful calligraphy with star shaped lamps as the underline. The bricks were brushed in an enthralling matt black which made the constellation art on the walls really shine. He’d gone in there, you thought, that blond in the black and red suit. He looked like Roland for a brief moment. It couldn’t have been him tthough, this was Altis after all and he was human. Still, you found your eyes glued to the door as you waited his return.

Ms Beatrice didn’t take kindly to you absentmindedness. She took your chin in hand and startled you with a kiss to the cheek. Your nervous jump made her laugh “Goodness, I’m not going to eat you dear.”

“S-sorry Ms Beatrice, I was distracted,” You said meekly looking out of the window again. The carriage began to roll “Were you able to get what you were looking for?”

She spread two glistening masks in her hands. They were marvelously painted, bespoke it seemed, with geometric designs in the colour of its matching pair blue to gold and gold to blue.

“They’re gorgeous! However much did you spend on them?”

“Pay? Oh no dear, I do not pay”

“You didn't pay? I don't understand. If you didn't pay how did you- argh!”

She sunk her teeth into you throat, piercing right through the collar of your jacket to drink her fill. You choked on your name, a cold chill running through your nerves and making your toes curl.

She pulled away, wiping her lips with her thumb “Let’s get you to the tailors. You need to look much more Altisian,”

She booped your nose. Trying to focus on it made your eyes spin “What...? But, Ms Beatrice, you already gave me this suit!”

"For where we're going it's far too shabby, I need to show you off,"

"Show me off? What do you mean, aren't we going back home?"

She blinked at you gormless. You returned a pleading look. Her lips began to twitch up amused before burgeoning out into an incredulous, villainous laugh.

"You don't understand do you dear? This is your home now. You're not going back to Vieux Paris!" She wiped a tear from her eye and stroked through your hair "You really are silly, it's quite endearing."

"..." You breathed. Speak, you urged yourself, say something! "I... really should be heading back home. The contract only-"

“_______ dear,” Beatrice spoke harshly, her voice bullish and coarse as she said “You're starting to upset me,”

You swallowed hard, frozen in place. 

Just to Altis, you'd thought initially. Only to Altis would have been more accurate. You had known this wouldn't have turned out well, your stomach churned at the very notion but you were so concerned with keeping Ms Beatrice docile that you hadn't considered thinking forward. Now you were trapped here, in a strange place with an even stranger client who seemed to be your only way out. Her eyes, they were suddenly a horrifying red and her pupils seemed to stretch long and thin into her skull. Her nails left a deathly scratching trail along your scalp, you were certain she was drawing blood. It was all you could do to murmur out a broken:

“S... Sorry Ms Beatrice...”

Which earned a devilish grin and a tickle beneath your chin. 

“That’s what I like to hear,”

The carriage pulled up to a stop and the butler came around to the door. Ms Beatrice sighed heavily, closing her eyes as she adjusted the curls over her shoulders.

“Now look, you got me all worked up,” She groaned. The carriage ground to a halt. The butler leant in, taking her hand as to lead her out “Come along dear, we havent got all day.”

“R-right... right away Ms Beatrice.”

Chapter Text

The mood in the car was neutral, or at least that’s how you tried to keep it. If you did nothing and said nothing, there was no chance of you accidentally pulling her trigger. You clutched a hand to your neck, assuaging the spot where she had indulged in you over and over. Your dress had been chosen, your hair had been stayed and your make up styles just how she liked it. You felt out of touch, looking more like some dress up doll in a little black dress with a lace collar strangling your throat and arms and matching speckled gloves restraining your hands. You were a flower, a small black wilted thing thrust in the corner of the carriage. 

In the beginning she'd said sweet things, calling you her favourite, flowering you with compliments and bright words. It was apparent now that she meant none of it. You were a toy to her, a means of entertainment and nothing else. Your head bumped against the carriage glass. From the first moment you saw her, you knew Beatrice was bad news. And yet here you say lamenting over a life that could have been. You wished for brighter days. You wished you’d seen this coming.  You wished he was here to save you. But he wasn’t. There was nothing you could do but keep your eyes on the scenery and yourself into statue like stillness until eventually your fell asleep.

In your dreams back there you saw him. His warm smile and giddy life seemed the only sunshine in the night. Perhaps you’d have hidden your reality from him you would still be by his side. After all, he was a kind hearted man who'd give the world to make you happy. You might have done it, you might have held your urges long enough, hidden behind the veil of humanity for a few decades to be with him, you could have lied a little longer. But no, you'd shown him your true nature. He’d been horrified, repulsed even. Of course, he wouldn't easily accept you. You were fire and ice, water and oil, chasseur and vampire, it just wouldn't have worked although it was nice to dream.   

You remembered the crepes he would buy, and the day he let you sleep on his lap. He'd played with your hair back then, clumsy but caring as he separated the coils and tickled the scalp. He always so tender. Unlike the sudden bump in the road which had you seething with resentment to the driver as you were forced awake. 

 "I was almost about to wake you," The voice came beside you but it was too smarmy and high to belong to him. You sighed inside at the reality before you, turning to see the lady of the manor now beside you and holding you close "We're here."

 The sight of the palace would have excited you had you been in that carriage with anyone else. Tall swirling spires reached endlessly up into the sky and the courtyard homed rows upon rows or roses of many colours with briar thorns. The bricks were old and cobblestone, each one a slightly different shade of brown that warmed towards the colour of the moon above. And if you stared at them long enough, the torches that lined the walk way began to resemble willow-o-wisps. 

A ferryman came to open the door, helping Ms Beatrice out before you followed behind her. You stayed close trying not to let your eyes wander too much. Their golden lustre had a tenancy to attract unwanted attention. It was a much simpler task befor you were led to giant marble doors with golden handles. As they opened, bright colours of satins and streamers flooded your monochrome life. 

 "Now remember," Ms Beatrice said as they announced her presence "do exactly as I told you."

"Y-yes Ms Beatrice." 

Being an information broker was suprisingly difficult, Roland was beginning to notice. There was much more nuance to it than he was use to and a different category of skill to. Their uniforms made it obvious that they weren’t of royal status and whilst they weren’t exactly unwelcome at the party they weren’t welcomed openly either. The trio moved in unison, bronze masks making a wave through the fickle conversations and sapphire smiles. They approached a standing table, got their own drinks and mingled. 

“That’s strange,” Johann said, observing the dance floor “I thought Marquis Machina would be here already.”

“The guy who’s always late, showing up this early?” Dante scoffed into his glass “That’ll be the day vampires go vegan,”

“Well yes, but we were late. This event kicked off an hour ago, no?”

“Your point?”

“Touche.”

The Dhams supped at their drinks at the same time. They spotted their targets and the game was on. Without saying a word, Dante and Risu broke away and started on their missions leaving Roland (or rather Fortissimo) very confused. 

“Where are they going?” He asked beneath his glass

“To meet their plugs,” Johann explained as the bronze melted into the diamond gleam “Some people won’t cut deals if they feel cornered. So at events like this we fan out. Besides, three brokers active means three times the money. Speaking of which, would you be a dear and refill my glass for me?”

Roland took it, quickly spying the target- a gentleman approaching in a ruby mask. He was discreet, chatting with people on the way over so as to break up his direction of travel but he had been coming this was for some time. Clearly Johann had something he needed and Fortissimo needed to be elsewhere for him to get it.

“Of course,” He smiled, slipping the flute between his fingers “Straight?”

“On the rocks,” Johan replied. Keep your eyes open and move carefully was what he meant though.

Roland went to top up the glass but kept just enough distance to be in ear shot, just as Johann had told him. Of course, the words that left his lips were about the drink but the intention behind them was a code that the quartet had decided on the way here. It was all very James Bond, secretive and exciting. If ever he became ill-suited for the chassuers way of life information brokering wouldn’t have been a bad alternative. 

“Here enters Madam Belladonna Beatrice.” A loud booming voice come from the opposite side of the room and as the door swung open, two stunning vampires entered the room.

Roland couldn’t quite tell from where he was on the first floor veranda but he was certain he recognised them. He pushed to the vine-woven fencing to get a better look.

Belladonna Beatrice was tall, exceptionally tall with blood red looping earrings and hair as black as ebony wood. She was top heavy and demanded attention, and her eyes held an anticipation that seemed alien at first. The two had never met but he had seen her before, several times even. The first time was in a cafe a long time ago, then again in Young Vergier’s photo and the final time in the streets at night wondering your way. Whenever he had seen her in person she had been near you, with you and the person walking behind her seemed too similar for him to miss this chance.

He moved with a quiet urgency, ghosting through the crowd of bodies as they mingled and made merry. 

“Hey, watch it buddy!” Dante hissed behind him as Roland’s vehement exit jossled him midway to pocketing some cash. His head snapped around to scathe but when he saw the golden coils bumbling off in the distance his motives changed. 

“Jasper! Get back here!” He hissed, simultaneously as loud and quiet as he could. But as the automaton band began to play and lords and ladies saddled up with their partners his path to the chassuers was cut short. His teeth gritted, and he cursed internally. That was not part of the plan..!

When was this going to end? You hadn’t even been at this party long and you were ready to leave. You had kept your eyes down, held yourself quietly and yet you could feel their eyes watching you lie haws. Ms Beatrice didn’t seem to notice, nor did she much care. She lavished in the attention you brought her whereas whenever you met eyes with someone you would bow and quickly look away. The stares only worsened when you made it to the ballroom floor. Suddenly the two of you were the centre of attention. They all spoke to Ms Beatrice of course but their eyes... oh how they leered at you; expectant and eager like they wanted to strip you down and see what was inside those ghastly golden eyes of yours. 

Closing your eyes you took a breath, surely you would calm down if you just didn’t acknowledge them or anything that was happening. 

Except something was happening. Something your eyes could not see but your heart couldn’t ignore. You looked around, trying to pinpoint it’s origin.

“What is that sound...?” You asked, the rattle of wood and jangling of coils catching your attention before the rest of the crowd.

Ms Beatrice, who had been boasting to her fellow elites turned to you with a tight look. You hadn’t mean to ask aloud. You pleaded silently for her to forgive you. Suprisingly, she gave you a smile. 

“It means it’s time to dance dear,” She patronised “It isn’t something you would understand. The music is awfully drole every year. Do something about it would you?”

The lace on her fan brushed your knuckles, a signal you had learned to ready.

 "Yes Ms Beatrice, I’ll see to it." You said quietly, bowing and turning on your heels to leave. She agreed with a gentle sway of her fan to dismiss you. The posse watched you go curiously. 

"Beatrice my sweet, I meant to ask," An uptight lady from the ring asked "That youngling with you, are those their own eyes?"

"Indeed," She bragged, eyes trailing you as you left the hall. "Quite the find wouldn't you say. The final Du Frois in the palm of my hand."

The crowd began to gasp.

"I say!" The man replied "Why, if word got back the Royals, Altis would be up in arms! You'd be as good as duchess!"

"Your collection never ceases to amaze me. How do you do it?"

"I've told you before, if you want something badly enough all you have to do is make it your own.”

You hardly even gone two steps before your path was interrupted by starving eyes and the stench of alchohol. 

“I cannot believe my eyes. Beautiful young miss, would you give me the honour of giving me your first dance tonight?” It said before you could step around it.

“I...” You looked behind you for the assistance of your lady, but she was otherwise occupied. Your throat felt dry. “I-I shall have to see,”

You curved around it and away from the conversation only to be assaulted agin.

“My Lady, your eyes are the brightest stars in the sky! Might you save a dance for me?”

“I really cannot make any guarantees good sir-”

“Excuse me, pardon me! Would you let me have this dance? I’ll be sure to show you a wonderful time,”

“Young Miss with eyes of topaz, please save a dance for me!”

“Young Miss! This way!”

“You shine brighter than any star Young Miss!”

You began to back away as more and more request came and hands reached for yours. You were beginning to lose ground. As you staggered back, your feet became tangled with another’s as they bared in towards you and before you knew it, you were falling to the ground. But your head did not cack against the ice blue marble, instead found itself cushioned on something taunt but buoyant.

“Owie...” You heard a warm timber above you “Young Miss? Young Miss are you okay?”

When you’d finished groaning and opening your eyes you were met with met with a bronze mask, kind Hazel eyes and a sunny cloud blocking your vision.

“Stars, I am so sorry sir!” You panicked, rushing as quickly as you could to pull your head off of what you found out was his thighs?! You could of died of embarresment. He helped you graciously as you rambled “I was just trying to find the exit and I got into an entanglement and now I've violated your personal space! I am appalled sir, I don’t even know your name and I’m causing you all this trouble.”

“Fortissimo is my name,” He said, aiding you to stand in front of him. He looked you over, but his was a look of concern and question. “And it’s really no trouble at all,”

Almost exactly on cue the automaton band began to sing. Strings and woodwind swelling together in a moderate attempt at echoing the symphonic sound of Blue Danube. Fortissimo gave your hand a light squeze.

“Well my lady, being as we’re already here would you like to dance?” He asked gently.

“I haven’t the faintest idea about dancing,” You whispered, lowering your voice “I’m embarresed enough as it is,”

“That’s alright, just follow me.” 

You found your hand reluctant to let go of his, a strange sense of comfort being found in this strangers presence. You could trust him, you thought, and so he lead you to an empty space and the two of you began to step slowly to the rhythm. It was safe with him, none of the other leering eyes seemed to matter.

Roland took care of you, his steps just enough for you to follow and his hands just tight enough around you to keep you close. He smiled as he weighed the facts in hs mind. He had been so certain that this was his beloved ______ but there were some things that shook his conviction. Firstly, this vampire seemed to have been swaddled in rosemary perfume and their clothes were far too scant compared to what he knew you liked to wear. And then the eyes, your eyes were beautiful earthy _____ not this misty gold as entrancing as it was. Nonetheless, he was a broker now and a broker’s job was to gather information. Baseless assumptions would be of no help.

“I take it you don’t come to these events much?” He asked

“Not at all,” You replied “This is actually my first. You could tell could you not?”

“Well, I had my suspicions,” He chuckled “I doubt those old men would swarm someone they knew like that,”

“Something tells me I do not want to know them...” You shivered. His grip tightened and you felt the warmth of his chest beat through you, soothe you. “Tell me Sir Fortissimo, do you ever wonder about what makes you special?”

“Whatever do you mean, Miss?”

“Since coming here, all I’ve heard is talk about my eyes. How beautiful they are, how they shine like jewellery. I can’t fathom the interest. They are quite-” You paused as he span you gently and the two of you fell in step with the rest of the swaying, pulsing bodies in the crowd. As he picked you back up you carried on “-ghastly. Otherwise good for nothing but seeing with,”

“A butterfly never sees it’s own wings you know. It goes it’s entire life without knowing its own beauty,’ He offered as he twisted and dipped you gently. His forest gaze grounded your soaring stars. “What a crime don’t you think? That one of God’s most beautiful creations doesn’t understand is own wonder,”

That wisdom echoed in the halls of your heart. It bounced and laid it’s head on a part of yourself that you had strangled away, a true part of yourself that you wanted no one else to see. Fortissimo, whether he knew what he’d done to you or not, gave you in that moment a small fragment of beleif in yourself, your own value. Then as a chill of rosemary aroma glided past you it was snatched away again. Your neck began to itch.

“I have to go.” You said abruptly, tearing away from his hazel hold. You cast your eyes to the floor feeling your heart race and your skin burn.

“Is something the matter?” He attempted to take your hands but you stepped back, struggling to hold your breath steady.

“You were right about the butterflies,” You gave a solemn smile “I suppose that is why you find them crucified inside glass displays. They’re only good for other’s enjoyment.”

“I-... Young Miss-"

“Good day to you, Sir Fortissimo.” You curtsied quickly, dashing out before anyone could stop you. If you weren’t back with your instrument by the time this movement was over Ms Beatrice would be less than pleased.

In that fleeting moment as Roland whipped you upright and watched you leave, a sting wrung tight in his chest. The same sting that had wrung when he’d heard of Astolfo’s crisis. His motivations as that exact moment shifted. This young lady, this beautiful and kind hearted young lady was broken. And he could not simply leave the damned to suffer. He wouldn't let her go. He watched as you rushed away, not even stopping to wave him goodbye. He would come for his beloved, but first this damsel needed to be saved.

Chapter Text

You rushed as fast as your heeled boots would allow you, toes rubbing up against the tight leather. A sense of urgency took over you equal parts foreign and familiar flooded your conscience. You were thirsty, suddenly overwhelmingly thirsty and yet you had a compulsion to leave; run, get to the carriage. You had to reach the carriage. Your bass was in the carriage. If you could get that and bring it back surely she would be satisfied. As you hurried through the halls you dashed past some fellow vampires much to quickly to really great them as their status demanded that you should. The lady scoffed, the gentleman followed you with his eyes. 

"You're a long way from the halls, youngling" He said. He was dressed, you thought, was dressed like an ornate kettle. With a tall, slender woman glued to his side, he approached through the hall and a shorter but equally beautiful woman lagged behind them. The elder lady seemed incensed that she had to catch up to where you were. You quickly stopped yourself staring to respond to them.

"Yes, I got rather turned around when searching for the carriages," You explained, panic rising as you were forced to stop and talk. You bowed quickly, remembering your manners. These are nobles, you reminded yourself, don't make a scene .

You took a little breath "You wouldn't happen to know the way, would you? If have been searching for some time and-" 

The tall blonde scoffed, disgusted "What an ignorant child. Do we resemble the help to you?"

 "I...I just-"

“And you would dare to look me in the eyes?! Don’t you know who I am?!”

“I-I’m sorry Miss, I-"

“Miss?!” You flinched as stalactites shot of form the floor where she stood. You leapt out of the way and swallowed down a yelp. “I am a Lady! And you- you hideous wretch- will address me as such!”

Your lips flapped as you clawed for resolution. Obviously nothing you could say to this woman would calm her down. The brunette behind you, obviously familiar with this behaviour quickly came up to you.

“Sister, please forgive my friend. They're prone to bouts of forgetfulness. I was supposed to meet her and formally introduce the two you,"  She winked surreptitiously to you, hoping you would catch on. "I've been looking for you everywhere, Mon amie."

"I'm sorry?"

"Roll with it,"

 “O-oh!" You straightened up and drew on your thespians mask, eyes darting between the brunette and the blonde "Sorry, I got impatient, I tried going on ahead, but I got lost! Ha-ha-ha!"

"Don't worry sister, I will handle this. You and Marquis Machina go on ahead. I shall deal with this." 

The older sister narrowed her eyes but was quick to dismiss the notion of argument and carry on. Showing off her gown seemed a far more crucial task. 

Once they had sashayed far enough away, you both released a heavy breath.

"That close..." You breathed

"Too close..." She replied "Veronica really doesn't let up. I'm Dominique by the way – Dominique Du Sade." 

You fell into a curtsey. That name was one you had heard a few times here and there so you were vaguely familiar with the level of status House Du Sade held. "My name is _______.”

“_____ of  which house?”

“Oh... just ______ is fine,”

"In that case, you can call me Domi. Let’s be friends alright?"

You felt your face warm at the thought. Domi seemed kind and polite, she was definitely the kind of person you would want to have as a friend. It seemed the day was beginning to brighten up "S-sure!"

As the two of you walked together to the storage area you learnt a lot about Dominique Du Sade. She wasn't too much older than you (by vampire standards anyways) and she was a lady by status. Unlike yourself, she spent her leisurely time with athleticism, horse riding and fencing, floral arrangements and literature; she was an extremely cultured woman. Truly a prize for anyone who was able to capture her heart. There was one who had apparently, and when it came to him she almost couldn't stop talking. 

"Noé?" You repeated as you loaded the instrument onto your back "I don't believe I've ever met him."

"That's alright, he doesn't spend much time in Altis these days," Her eyes fell as she explained "His teacher has sent him on a rather amazing quest, you see."

"I don’t mean to pry but you don't seem all that happy about it, Miss Dominique..."

"Oh no, I am really! I'm very proud of my fiancée. It's just... I miss being able to see him as often as I'd like." She heaved a heavy sigh "Such is the life of a lady."

“I completely understand. Why, I haven't seen Ro-.." You trailed off, trying and failing to count the days. You'd tried so hard to erase the last interaction from your mind and yet it reared its head to you once again.

Dominique gave you a feline grin "Ro, you say? Do tell~"

You scuttled along trying to avoid eye contact "T-tell what?" 

"Oh, come on ______, I know a maiden in love when I see one!"

"I-I cannot talk about it,"

"Well that's hardly fair, I told you all about Noé!"

"And it was a wonderful tale but.... My Lady would not be all to pleased to hear me discussing him."

"Your lady?" She asked, observing the furrow of your brow and the weight suddenly gained in your demeanour. "______, you can't possibly mean... Are you a boreau?"

"I’m not sure what that means,” You began to tense, shoulders hunching as you processed her unspoken expectations. 

Dominique’s face screwed. The physical form you presented didn't quite line up with the facts you were telling her. Your lack of Altisian knowledge, your servitude - it didn’t make sense. "I'm sorry, I just assumed with your eyes that you were of house Du Frois?"

"I am not like you, I’ve lived with my guardian in Vieux Paris for as long as I remember," You replied. As you drew closer to the large ballroom doors, the door boy cracked them open for you. "I should go and set up. It has been a pleasure speaking with you Domi, I certainly hope we can meet again."

"O-of course." And just like that she watched you go. No other words would come to mind. You had that distinct honey gold glow in your eyes and your hair and skin were that of the house from what she understood from legend, but then again it had been many years, decades even since the last Du Frois was seen out in society. She pursed her lips and entered by the door to be announced to the ball. She practically glided down the steps, purple petals of her gown bouncing as she made her way down. She waved and greeted and watched in the corner of her eye as you made your way up to the stage to set up. If you really were a Du Frois, there was only one way to prove it.

You lugged your instrument up the stairs and in front of the automatons, earning a few stares but nothing that would stop the idle chatter and or steal Dominque’s spotlight. Regardless you did what you had to do, pulling the instrument from the case and setting the fabric coffin aside. There was no stool for you to use but that was of consequence. Playing standing wasn't your favourite position, but it was doable. You could bare the leg pain for a movement or two. You tuned up, the drawling sound of open strings and harmonic tones earning the ire of many a noble. Then you took a breath and you did what you did best; you sewed. 

The bow wove around the strings, telling the tale of a spine chilling Danse Macabre. Slowly but surely heads began turning. You could feel them, their leering eyes over you as your eyes fluttered closed. Covetous looks that said “Who is that up there? Who's are they?”

Oh, how Beatrice loved it. She revelled in the power that you brought to her. After all, you were skilled, and you shone like a diamond stone. If she was right, which of course she was, once the bigots here knew that you were the final Du Frois and that she was the one who owned you no less, she would be next big thing in Altis. 

You danced through the movement, eyes sealed tight as your fingers scattered and thrummed across the finger board. Pins and pizzicato needles struck the air. Striking through the air was the grim reaper's tune, a hauntingly enthralling number. The music began to swell and it’s pulse replaced the old rusty heart that lived in the automatons. You hardly noticed how your strings were beginning to glow like sapphires and their fire ignited the astermite in the robotic band behind you. The flutes begin to fly, the violas began to fiddle and soon you were the lead of an orchestra that gave a chorus unlike anything Altis had heard in decades.

Dominque’s eyes grew wide “Its true...she really is of house Du Frois...!”

Fortissimo watched in awe as the ballroom came to life around him. A startling icy azure shocked through the veins of the tiles and statues on the wall. Angels, skeletons and song birds all rattled to life and danced in their places. 

“Hey! Jasper!” Dante, who had been wrestling with royals and straining against the tide in an attempt to get to the newcomer, grabbed his shoulder and yanked him to the side “What’s the big idea? I told you to stay close!”

“Its her...” He said wistfully, eyes watering a little “I know it now, that is my ______,”

“Huh?!” Dante shook his head “Let me get this straight, that magic muso is your girl? Didn’t you just dance with her? You couldn’t have brought her to us then?”

“No, something was certainly the matter. She seemed like a different person when we were dancing,”

“Maybe, just maybe and hear me out, it’s because that is a different person!”

“No Dante, I’m sure of it!” He looked back at you remembering the performance you gave in the park. The passion in your eyes, your sway as your body song, the way the crowd was hypnotised into your show – There was no one else who had that dangerously enchanting aura behind the music. 

Dante groaned, scratching up his hair in frustration. He took in all the data of the room all the people who’s attention you held; their status, assets and attitudes. “If you’re right, getting to her ain’t gonna be easy,”

With a final strike of your bow, the song came to an end and just as abruptly the automatons and statues collapsed as their essence was robbed once again.

You breathed heavily, throat dry as you awaited the applause in the silence. When it did eventually come, you tucked the bow into it’s quiver and gave a bow. As you were trained, you held it for five seconds before standing upright. You didn’t quite see the life you had brought to the room, although you did see something move from the corner of your eye. You simply assumed that the machines would play anything that was in their programming. But there were two vampires in particular that understood the value of what had happened, what that simple song meant for vampire society. Or more accurately, what your arrival in Altis meant for it’s people.

Miss Beatrice smiled wildly, revelling in the applause as if it were her own. Her plan was going perfectly. For a moment, she wondered whether she had hunted down the final Du Frois successfully but the resurrection of this ballroom was proof of it. She would wait a few more seconds, simmer in the victory before walking up and demanding her next song. It would have to be a showstopper, something grander than Camille Saint-Saens; something difficult and magnificent, something you only learned for her and then they would all know who owned you and by proxy the respect she deserved. She prepared herself, sauntering forward and batting the fan in front of her face, a cocky show of early victory. 

But something changed. Someone else was there; a royal guard. He whispered something and gestured across the room. And then you smiled. You seemed proud, happy even to receive a command from someone other than herself. Beatrice was seething. The guard took your hand and guided you thought the hall, parting the crowd like the red sea and leading you up the steps to the where the elites of the elites laid out to play. 

Without her.

This wasn’t part of the plan. This was not how it was meant to go! But Beatrice was a refined lady. She wouldn’t lash out or tear you down from your high. No, she would wait. She would make you burn and itch until you grovelled on your own accord.

"Ms Beatrice?" You called onto the balcony. She stood gazing over the gardens, the ice palace for off in the distance seemed to be the centre of her gaze. Holding your skirt off your feet you scurried over, rambling all the way.  "There you are, have you been out here the whole time? Did you see me play? Oh, I lit up the room, and one of the the Lord's even sent for me afterwards if you could believe it! He was frightfully tall, taller than I thought a person ever could be and he told me-“

"Are you happy?" She cut you off before you could finish.

 "O-of course I am, I'm overjoyed."

She scoffed and your heart sank. "I didn't bring you here for your joy, you are here to serve me. Do you understand? You are contractually obligated to serve me! Is that not what you’ve been harping on about all the way here?"

"R-right, you're right. I got carried away. My apologies..."

“Rightfully so,” She turned her attention across the moat. "Look there, what do you know about that building?"

Her sudden change of subject threw you off, but you weren’t one to stir the boat. You stood beside her and took in the view. "It’s a beautiful scene. The flower gardens in front are lovely and the river passing through it too. I suppose you could ride a boat to reach it-"

Her disturbed growl suggested that wasn't the answer she wanted. You had hoped that you would be able to soothe her with the suggestion of a boat ride but that clearly wouldn’t work. You quickly scrambled for another answer.

"A-And... Erm... I assume what lies beneath all that holly is a church perhaps? Or a castle?"

 She began to laugh. A dry, tired laugh which, for a moment, had you convinced that you might have satisfied her question. 

"______ dear," She started up again. "My patience is wearing thin. Everyone saw what you did to the ballroom so stop playing coy!"

Her words ruptured your ears and made you flinch. Her eyes had that fiendish look to them again. You wanted to run, you needed to escape but your legs wouldn’t move.

"I... " Your voice seemed to disappear in an instant, your body shrinking in on itself as you muttered "I'm sorry..."

"How pitiful..." Her hand shot around your neck, long nails piercing into your skin. "Do you know when blood tastes it's finest?" She hissed, your winces and exclamations of pain going unnoticed "When one is in the heats of euphoria or in depths of hellish fear,"

“P-please, let me go...!” You gasped, gripping her wrist tightly as she lifted you off the floor.

Nevertheless she continued "You have something very special sweetie, I tasted it when I had you the first time and I saw it in your eyes. You know about the Du Frois mansion, don't you?  You lived here. You know this place."

"N-no, I've never been here before," You gasped feeling her other hand claw into your side piercing holes in the corset.

"No, that's not the answer I'm looking for," She rammed you against a stony pillar. The ivy scratched into your skin making you wince and yelp against her “I understand. Those Lords told you not to tell me didn’t they? They’re too late, I already know the Chant Du Renouveau is in there, I just need you to let me in.”

You gagged, flailing and scratching in poor attempt to break free of her grasp "But I've never been here before...! Please stop Ms Beatrice, you're scaring me!"

“If you would just answer my questions I wouldn’t have to!” She snapped and cast you to the ground with a distressed sigh. The tiles chewed into your skin. “Why must you do this to me? I hate to see you like this but you leave me no choice! I could give you the world if you’d just unlock damn that building!”

You choked in a breath. The chilling breeze forced her sickly perfume onto you. Tears stung your eyes.

"Why... Why are you doing this?"

"It's simple really," she stroked her hands over a strange green mark on your shoulder "because I own you,"

'So much for a good day...' Your body curled up against the cold, cracking stone. You bit back bitter tears, chewing your lip so hard that it popped and bled.

Beatrice sighed on her approach to you “No, don’t cry dear. It’s okay. Your probably just worn out from the big day and that’s why you can’t remember. Let’s go home now, I’m sure once you've rested you can tell me everything I need to know can’t you?”

She pulled you up and in your state, you couldn’t fight back or struggle or hold your ground. You could but follow silently into the carriage and sit and wait until it started moving. You didn’t notice that Ms Beatrice hadn’t returned by the time the cart began rolling again. You hadn’t half a brain for that level of thought. You simply closed your eyes and let the driver take you were you were going much like you had when you came to the ball. And eventually you reached your destination.

Chapter Text

From the three corners of the hall the dham’s locked eyes. This certainly complicated things. They were all picking up on the whispers around the room, the rumours about this legendary House Du Frois and the dark, twisted sciences that went on in the depths of its castle. The stickiest part of it was they didn’t have a great foundation of knowledge on the family to filter out how much of the rumours were true or false. And on top of that, the Jasper seemed greatly convinced that this young Du Frois was his lover.  Of course, Dante had yet to share that information to the others but she had already caught the attention of some very high power officials. And judging by her trajectory across the room, Lord Ruthven was in their midst. 

“This way,” Dante tugged his wrist. He could see the way Roland’s eyes were following you up the stairs and he had to make sure his feet wouldn’t follow you too.

“But she’s going that way!” He complained

“And if we go that way we'll lose a lot more than our pride. There’s a reason she has an escort,” He lead him up some hidden stairs where Johann was already lying in wait.

“What d'we got?” Dante asked, peeking gently through the door to see what was happening.

“Well it seems we found our target. Lucien coincidentally forgot to mention that they’re from Marquis family though,” Johann sighed

“Yeah I know,” He narrowed his eyes a little, watching carefully as you fumbled with formalities much to Lord Ruthven and Young Luca’s folly.

“Then that would make her a lady...” Roland thought out loud “But that doesn’t make sense! Someone of that level of status living the way she did... even if she was seperated from her family, you would think she’d still be raised with semblance of her heritage.”

“Unless he didn’t know about it at all?” Johann wondered out loud

“Or if he didn’t want her to...” The air in the room got heavy as Dante and Johann shared a look. Perhaps the dark rumours about the downfall of the house were true. “She’s on the move,” Dante added quickly

“I’m on it,” Roland yelled already halfway through leaping over the banister to reach the exit.

“Hey, don’t do anything stupid!” He yelled, a migraine beginning to form. He groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose “I swear to God I’m losing braincells because of that idiot,”

“Aw, are you worried about our Fortissimo?”

“No, I'm not!”

“I think you are~”

“Well I’m not so shut up!”

The siblings teased back and forth as they often did almost, completely forgetting about the task at hand until a puff of steam and two heavy feet clunked up to the doorway.

“Ah! If it isn’t the dhams!” Marquis Machina chirped as he pulled away their protective curtain, his face window glowed like soemthing from an extra terrestrial novel. “I was hoping to find you here! Well not here exactly but in this general vicinity. Tell me, did you bring the box like I requested?”

Dante cleared his throat standing upright and fixing his suit.

“Of course we did,” Johann gave his customer service smile “What exactly do you need us to collect?”

He huffed an elated cloud of smoke “Some Astermite, a large piece of astermite...”

This building was humongous. The ballroom itself was easily the size of the cathedral back in Paris and the halls snaked in and out of each other with no real identifers as to which hall you had come from. Risu had been scouting the hallway outside so when Roland came charging out of the grand hall, she took her feet in her hands and followed. The gargoyles on the corners mocked them as they tried and failed desperately to follow your trail.

“Weren’t we just here?” He panted, looking at the dusty armour glowering over them. “We saw this fellow not too long ago,”

“No, this one’s halberd doesn’t quite reach the floor like the last did. It's a few millimetres off,” She adjusted her glasses “We’re getting close,”

“...Alright,” Roland nodded. His anxiety was beginning to get the better of him. Risu was searching as fast as she could but he couldn't feel like it wasn't nearly fast enough. When he had danced with you he could feel you falling apart in his arms like an old porcelain doll, skin bruised and soul shattered. If he lost you here, if you lost yourself here, he would never forgive himself.

“There she is,” She pointed to two specs in the distance so dark in the canopy’s shadow that Roland had thought were little more than birds flitting in the distance. “This way!”

“You see her?” He asked as they took off again.

“Yes, she’s-” She bit her tongue suddenly, tearing her eyes away from the scene on the balcony. Her eyes were wide, heart in her throat as she watched you being torn from the floor and drawn up like a ragdoll.

“Let’s hurry.” was all she said.

They rushed, feet pounding the earth as fast as they could, but by the time they reached the balcony you had moved off. Ms Beatrice had taken you away. They caught a glimpse of her ruby necklace disseapering around the corner, down the steps and towards the carriage ranks.

They gave chase, volting down the stairs at top speed until Risu tripped up and tumbled to the bottom.

Roland doubled back to help her up. “Are you alright?!”

“I’ll be fine, you go and get Juliet!” She hissed in pain as she peeled off the cold hard stone “She needs you,”

Roland chewed his lip an powered on. Without Risu he wouldn’t have a clue where to go, but that wouldn’t stop him. He continued on, tuck rolling down the steps and out of the door. The carriage ranks were washed in hazy orange candelight. And with the space as empty as it was it was easy enough to hear the rattle of a carriage being loaded and driven out. roland took a breath, attuning to the frequency. It was far, too far for him to reach without an injection. Luckily he never walked without them. He reached into his pocket, feeling the eternally ice cool glass against his fingertips but just as he was about to draw it out the ballroom doors opened and vampire chatter began to fill the halls above. If any of them saw him using the injections. They would know for certain that he was a human. 

He cursed under his breath. He had to at least get a look at the carriage you were in: the make, the model, the color – anything! If he could get a good look at the cart, identify it in anyway they might be able to track her down later! At the speed the carriage rushed out of the gantry he was barely able to recognise anything other than the black body, red roofing and the silver wheels. Then windows were tinted too, so spying the driver was out of the question and the make emblem was hidden in the flurry of it's escape.

“My carriage!” A screech came from across the way. Roland quickly tucked himself against the car just quickly enough to spy the woman with the ruby necklace, the one you’d entered the ball with boiling with rage. She yelled and cursed and threw slurs that honestly, Roland hoped he hadn’t heard at all. He watched curiously as she scuttled after it in her knife-like stiletto shoes. anguish wrought across her face. It begged the question, if the carriage was driving away and she wasn’t in it, who was? And where exactly was that stranger going?

So you were kidnapped. Not your finest moment. Especially when you consider that it took you being walked into the strange now environment blindfolded for you to realise that it was not Madam Beatrice toying with you. Perhaps the lack of rosemary parfum should have made it obvious.

Had it been any other day, you said to yourself, you might have turned the assailants into road kill. Lucien had taught you a little self defense for that very reason. He hadn’t been fond of the idea of you joining Luna Pulse, much preferring you to stay with a traditional orchestra, but allowed it under the condition you learnt some basic defense skills. 

Well. Some help they turned out to be.

At least the place they took you to was warm. It smelled like distant metalwork and firewoord. You were made to sit down and you didn’t bother trying to escape as they secured you to it. You simply sat and waited and stewed in your depression.

Whatever this was, whoever this was, surely their treatment wouldn’t be worse than what you were had with Madam Beatrice. Or if it was, perhaps you deserved it on some level. Or at least you thought you did.

"Is she here? She is! Oh goodie!" You tuned into a voice and a undeniable clang of a huge metal door being closed. The lord of the house, you assumed, by the orders he was giving out. It was a little while before you heard the foot steps getting closer and closer. Your whole body tensed. Your heart was in your mouth. What if they drained your blood or chained you up or forced you to play until your fingers bled or-

"Hurry and remove that silly thing, I can't wait for them to see this!"

At the gentleman’s tinny word, the bag was removed and your sense were assaulted by bright lights, stacks of toys and automatons playing jaunty music. If you didn't know any better you would have thought you had been brought into a doll house. Servants reeled in trays of teas and biscuits, cute cakes and sandwiches just the right size to finish in one bite. It was... overwhelmingly, entirely too much. 

"Tadahhhhh!" Cried the strange fellow in the divers suit "What do you think ______? Isn't it amazing?"

In an instant hisexcitement instantly crippled as your eyes began you run. Thick, heavy tears began to roll and wouldn’t stop flowing as you struggled to choke down the ugly noises and wet sobs. The confetti canons and parade around the room slowed to a stop at the sight of your tearstained cheeks.

"Oh dear, whatever's the matter?" He asked "I thought you'd be excited!"

"Excited?!" You bawled "I've been kidnapped by a weirdo in a diving suit and your first thought for me as I sit chained to this chair is 'oh yes, this would be very fun. I think they'll have a great time?!’ I don't even know you!"

"Oh is that what this is about! 

“Amongst other things...”

“Well, I am Marquis Machina. And this-" He gestures around him "-is all yours now,"

“Liar...” You mumbled

"Not at all! Actually I owe you grandfather a huge debt. And serendipitously, I was thinking about having families this week so this is extraordinarily divine timing,"

"... I want to go home....”

The automatons around the room deflated. The marquis looked between you and his servants, all frozen solid in place. What exactly were they to do? A butler rushed over at the Marquis' request, untying you and handing you a handkerchief.

"Thank you," you mumbled, promptly blowing your nose. He bowed neatly and backed away taking it as a sign of dismissal. "I bet this is all a big joke isn’t it, some strange Altisian thing. Just do what you're going to do and leave me for dead..."

The statement caught him off guard. He took a moment to compose himself before kneeling to your height "And whyever would I do that?"

"It seems to be the trend today..." You said through sniffles

"Don't be so sullen," He said mildly begining to regret the vague collection instructions he ordered "Here, you're home now,"

"Home...?"

He gestured to a window not far from you. The starlight webbing across the maroon sky became evident. The glass that you'd expected to be to be cold as ice was warm and pleasant to the touch.

"Welcome back to Altis ______ Du Frois," He stood aside, presenting the maids and toys and gowns and the buffet spread that had all been laid out for you with glistening lights and bright smiles "We've been waiting for you."

Chapter Text

You were given a day to climatise before you were warmed to the concept of your heritage. It was a lot to take in, and Marquis Machina was far too enthused about your existence to realise that none of this was normal for you. Luckily Rivi, the maid who was assigned to you, made up for any patience he lacked for better or for worse. It would take a while to get used to it. The high windows, the expensive clothes, the maids waiting for you at every conrer to greet you and perfume you. 

“How are you settling in?” She asked you as she styled your hair that morning. You had told her you could do it yourself, but she declined strongly. She seemed content to meticulously untangle the hair rollers from your coils. Whatever curl cream she had used it was holding this new curl pattern spectacularly well beyond even your own comprehension.  

“Well, it is a lot to take in. I’m still not certain you have the right person at all,” You toyed with the hem of the silk gown over your shoulders. The material quality was higher than anything you had ever felt “I hadn’t even heard of this place until a few days ago and now I’m-... what exactly am I?” 

“You are currently a Lady, but that may change very soon,” 

“Again?!” 

“Well yes,” She began “Once we confirm your lineage and you reclaim the land your family owned, you may well be a Marquis yourself.” 

Your eyes widened in shock. You would own land? It couldn’t be possible, after all you had never heard about this. You only owned your instrument and even that wasn’t close to hand for you to defend your title as musician. 

“Rivi, I don’t know how much of this I can take. I really should have Lucien with me if all of this is happening. I don’t understand half of what’s going,” You started to stand  

“Hold on My Lady, where are you going! You cannot simply leave-“ 

“What do you mean I can’t leave? Am I prisoner now?!” 

“My lady, please. You are I guest. I meant you cannot leave in that state. Your hair isn’t styled yet,” 

“...Oh.” 

You sat back down, a nervous anxious mess. Rivi could probably smell the nerves coming off you because she soon cleared the vanity and handed you a pen and paper.  

“Here my lady, you may want to try writing to Sir Lucien whilst your waiting for me to finish,” She said softly as she brought an ink pot for you.  

You stared down at it. Even the paper here was thick and fancy. It felt wrong to use it. “If... If I write this well, would you be able to send it to him for me...?” 

“I don’t envision that posing a problem my lady,”  

You nodded.

You’d been away from home much longer than you were meant to. Your one evening job was slowly turning into an working vacation. And whilst you did need to tell Lucien you were well, he wasn't exactly in the best mood when you left and the food here was very, very delicious. Perhaps your curiosity was taking control, but you desperately wanted to find out more about all this Marquis business. At the very least, you wanted to live lavishly for just a moment longer. So you picked up the pen and began to write.  

It wasn’t long before you were made presentable and escorted downstairs to breakfast. It was nothing like you were used to. Baskets of all kinds of breads stacked far too tall for anyone person to eat with confit and fruits and platters you didn't recognize spread before you. It looked deliciously perfect althought the smell left a little to be desired. Apparently, there wasn't a great variety of recipes in Altis. They had the ingredients of course but most new things had to be brought over from Vieux for vampire folk to indulge. You could tell by the custard pudding in front of your face that some recipes had yet to be perfected, or more accurately, perfectly mimic regular Vieux food with Altisian ingredients. 

“______ my dear, there you are!” A gentleman said loudly as you entered the dining hall. 

You blinked at the man opposite you, hair so deep blue it was almost black and eyes a deep brassy brown. 

“I’m... sorry, I don’t believe we’ve met?” 

“Of course we have child, it’s me  - Uncle Varney!” 

“Uncle Varney...?” You repeated quietly. 

“My lady,” Rivi leant in close and whispered “Marquis Machina does not wear his clockwork during meals.” 

“Oh! My apologies Marquis Machina I must still have sleep in my eyes,” You made your way over to the table and took a seat. The slip didn't see, to bother him all that much.

“Did you sleep well?” He asked when you’d settled in.

“Yes, I did thank you.” 

“Oh good. Go on eat, eat child don’t let me stop you!” He crunched on some challah bread and waved for some to be brought to you. In an instant maids and butlers surrounded you with full dishes. You began your meal, curiously at first but slowly you became more comfortable. When you were comfortably tearing through the pastries and meats Marquis Machina spoke up again. “Now I was thinking of taking you to the workshop today. I have quite the interest in machinery and clockwork you see and recently I was hit with a strike of inspiration. Tell me, have you ever read War of the Worlds ?” 

You shook your head, face far to full of fruits and brioche to verbalise a response. 

“Well you really should. Remind me to get it off the shelf for you later. It's by a British author you see, and tells a fantastical tale of Martians taking over the city of London – why, I was hooked from the first page! The ending left something to be desired but that is neither here nor there. In that book, the Martians walk around in these thunderous machines with lazer blasters and they walk on four legs! Huge things they were said to be, capable of walking over bridges and crushing buildings without a second thought.” 

“How thrilling,” You said, eyes wide with intrigue over the tale. 

Varney hummed in agreement as he supped his morning tea “ So I got thinking – why not build them in Altis? I have the skills and I certainly have the finances. The only thing I need is the astermite!” 

“That sounds reasonable to me. But what exactly would you need them for? You’re not hoping to lay seige to London yourself are you?” 

Varney laughed heartily “Oh no, not now at least, the British Isles are not in my worldview at all. But as a Marquis I do have the responsibility to govern over the Northern borders of Altis. It is rather uneventful most days but you cannot be too careful!! It would be a good chance for you to learn the ropes. Besides, it think they would be fun to pilot. What do you say? Would you like to help me test them?” 

You nodded excitedly “O-of course Marquis Machina, I would love to see your handiwork!”  

“Come now dear, call me Uncle Varney! All this Marquis talk is so drole,” 

“Well...O-okay then Uncle Varney,” You gave a coy smile and Francis appluaded happily. He was eccentric, but easy enough to get along with.  

 You wiped your mouth with a cloth and deliberated over which was the soup spoon. As you did so, the doors to the dining hall opened and in walked some firmiliar guests.

“His highness Luca Oriflamme, Lord Ruthven and Lady Dominique are here sir,” Rivi announced and as the party floated in neatly. You hurried to clean your hands and bow to greet them cordially.  

“Francis, I thought we agreed to speak to the young marquis together,” Lord Ruthven said, taking a seat comfortably at the head of the table.  

“Yes well you know me, ever impatient” Francis shrugged “Help yourselves” 

You eyed the party discretly from behind your tea cup. You recognised some of them, When you had finished playing at the ball, Lord Ruthven was the one who had requested to see you after you had played. The conversation itself wasn’t fresh in your mind but you remembered him being very complimentary towards you and wanting to see you again. Dominuque had been a saving grace that night so you were beyond grateful to see her again. Luca and the woman beside him though? You didn't recognise him at all. 

Domi took a seat beside you and gave you a friendly “We meet again,”

“It’s good to see you,” You smiled back “Did you travel here together?” 

“No, Marquis Machina sent for me earlier and I happened across Lord Ruthven and Luca on my way,” She explained 

“Uhm!” Young Luca was extremely red in the face. He had been staring at you intently as he came in and sat beside his uncle seemingly waisting for his chance to interject and now he finally got it “L-Lord Uncle tells me you’re an exceptional musician?” 

“Well,” You smiled a little, somewhere between bashful at the statement and endeared by the little one “I suppose I am rather skillful,” 

His little brown tufts of hair waggled excitedly “I-I was wondering if you would be able to play something for me? I’m too young for all these big parties and I was rather upset to have missed it...” 

You and Domi both swooned as he pouted.  

“Of course I can,” You said happily “But the only problem is I don’t have my bass with me here,” 

“Oh... I see,” The boy seemed dismayed 

“Now Luca don’t be so sullen. After all, we are here to do our duties, not to play around,” Lord Ruthven patted his head lightly. “______ would you come over here a moment?” 

“Er- yes, of course,” You followed his orders, giving Domi a nervous look as you reached his side of the table. Ruthven seemed like a kind sould but there was something about him that just didn’t wholly sit right with you. You put it down to being intimidated by his stature, he was ridiculously tall and he always spoke with conviction.  

He explained to you as he began the procedure that all vampires of noble blood had some form of elemental prowess, ordinarily that meant contorl over either fire or ice. Being as you had never been shown how to do either, the simplest way was to drip your blood onto a golden chalice and watch as the goblet responded. Dominique remembered when it had been done with herself and Louis in their youth. She had screamed and cried, hardly a fan of the knife on her finger at the time. Louis had been extremely unbothered, perhaps because he knew what was coming.

You were hesistant to draw the blade to your palm for fear that it might get in the way of you playing our instrument but Ruthven dismissed the notion with a gentle laugh and simply reassured you that the cut would not draw too much blood. That and vampyric recovery speed would make the wound meaningless in minutes.  

The goblet was set on the table and filled with shining ichor. The lord took the blade to your finger tip and you hardly felt it when it broke the skin but as your eased your digit into the drink a burning pain shot through your nerves. You leapt back with a hiss, flashing it off. Rivi was instantly at your side with medical aid as the others gathered around the goblet. 

When you’d calmed yourself down you made your way back to the scene with a curious expresison.  

“Did it work...?” You asked cautiously, peaking over their shoulders to see if anything had changed but the chalice seemed the same as when you’d left it.  

“There doesn’t seem to be any change so far...” Domi said to you quietly. “I'm sorry ______,” 

“...No, t-that's alright,” You tried to mask your disappointment “I wasn’t expecting much anyway,” 

“Wait hold on,” Luca chimed it. His far was pressed right up close to the table. His eyes narrowsed critically before he lifted up the cup. Or rather, he attempted to. He kept taking his hands away and flashing them.  

“Master Luca,” Jeanne interupted “Do you need me to-” 

“No, I’m okay” He huffed determined, rubbing his reddening palms together before trying again “Its just... a little.... stuck!” 

With a little more grunting and yanking, Luca was able to rip the chalice off the table. Jeanne leapt to catch him and cover his head from any spilt ichor but she found none. Uopn closer inspection the top layer of the drink had frosted over and a thin frosty sheen had sealed the flute of the chalice to the desk.  

Francis practically jumped for joy “Frost! I knew it!” 

“How marvelously intriguing...” Lord Ruthven raised an impressed eyebow 

“That's a good right? This is what we wanted to happen?” You looked around for confirmation 

“Of course child, this is exactly what we wanted to happen!” Francis explained, pulling fans and confetti canons from the ether and sounding them off “Permafrost is a element only found in the Du Frois lineage, your lineage! This is wonderful news! We must celebrate! Tonight!” 

“Tonight?” You repeated 

“She should at the very least see her territory before that happens,” Lord Ruthven laughed “But yes a celebration, a proper celebration is in order. Altis pressumed your lineage long dead around the time of the great war, so this is wonderful news. It could mean-” 

“Yes, yes all very good. Now what are we thinking? A ball masque? A quinceañera? No wait- a live concert!” Francis’ eyes glowed as he toyed with the concepts. 

“Now that could be a good idea,” Ruthven nodded in agreement 

You followed with your eyes as they riffed ideas back and forth, Lord Ruthven being the calm logic behind the energiser Machina. 

“Uncle Varney, you really don’t need to put on a whole concert for me. Who would show up?” 

“Everyone once they hear that it shall be ______ Du Frois who is playing!” 

“You’re going to play?” Luca beamed 

You choked out your dismissal. It was bad enough that Luca was beaming at you like an excited puppy, but Jeanne was also glowing with anticipation. Uncle Varney had worked himself up, already delegating his servants as he saw fit to prepare for the big event. You only nodded.

“I suppose I am now...” You gave a nervous laugh. 

“Now ______,” Uncle Vanrey approached you, grabbing your shoulders and walking you to an exit you hadn’t seen yet. “Don’t you worry about a single thing. I am going to make sure that tonight is absolutely spectacular! You and Dominique should go and enjoy yourselves, explore Mansion Du Frois! You can take the ferry way, its rather scenic,” 

“Okay. But Uncle I am really not all too certain about this quinceañera-concert thing. I mean, I'm far too old for one and I don’t the first thing about royal etiquette,” 

“That’s fine, Marquis don’t need any of that anyway.” He ushered you around to the where an old slender, venician river boat was moored.

“Yes but Uncle-” 

“Rivi should know the way, “ He sat you down in the seat as another maid put some warm furs over your shoulders “I can see it now- the lights, the dancing- you're going to love it!” 

"Hold on, Uncle Varney-!” Before he could repond, he was already inside and pulling on his divers suit. 

There was no way you were getting through to him now. You gave an exasperated sigh as Rivi gathered the oars and the journey began.  

Today was going to be a loooong day.  

Chapter Text

The barge rocked side to side as the four of you stepped out of it. The footpath was over grown, moss and weeds had overtaken the stone tiles. What once would have been a beautful yard was now a shroud of dark green shrubs and bushes but it was still obvious which way you were supposed to go.

“Careful Master Luca,” You could hear Jeanne saying behind you as the thrushes reached up way past the boy's knees.

“Are you okay?” You asked behind you “You both don’t have to be here if you’d prefer to do something else,”

“No, it’s fine!” Luca chirped “Besides I have always been curious about this place!”

You nodded as Rivi tied up the boat. You told her it would be fine for her to rest in the boat too, but the maid was adamant to stay by your side. So the five of you trekked through the tall grass, braving stinging nettles and animal burrows to reach House Du Frois.

It was an imposing building. Tall and broad with spires that coiled out from its roof in all manner of directions as if the wind had blown the bricks and they’d stayed there. If it hadn’t been this way for the past centuries, braving wind and rain, you would have genuinely thought it would crumble at the slightest touch. The steps leading up to the door were shallow but wide like they spilled from the giant black oak door at the top. And as they plateaud out, two fox sculptures sat guard either side of the door.

Luca jumped back at their uncanny eyes.

“So this is the place...” You said. The cool air nipped at your ears.

“Awesome, isn’t it?” Domi asked and you nodded. Even covered with ivy and ferns the place was breathtaking.

“Do we have a key or something?” You asked

“If I may, my lady-” Rivi interrupted “-You must lay your hands upon the fox and feed it frost,”

“Frost...?” You looked at your hands “I’ve never done that before,”

“Don’t worry, it’s easy enough,” Domi began “Just relax and think cold thoughts. When I summon my ice, it almost feels like a ice burn for a moment-” She demonstrated by holding out a small crystal in front of her. It span gently above her palm “-but its not all that bad. You get used to it.”

You took a deep breath and set your palms upon the rune. You could feel it, cold and icy beneath your fingertips but it didn't burn like how Dominique described it has done to her. In fact, it was a pleasant cool like the cold of ice cream or an autumn breeze in your palm. And when you fed into it the doors of the Du Frois mansion, laced with ivy and debris slowly began to skid open.

"Hello?" You called in only really feeling silly for doing so in post.

The floors were tiled, dusty from age and chipped in places. Dark spots clung to the grout but that didn't distract from the kaleidoscopic blue and white snowflake shape in the centre if the hallway floor.

"Wow..." Domi mused as the two of you walked further and further into the castle. Automatons mid-way through their animations were frozen on the stairs but none of them seemed to be rusting. "It's almost as if this entire place has been put on pause."

You leant down to examine a small drone that seemed to have been ferrying papers between rooms. An old book was on its head, it seeemed perfectly shape for the task. "I thought this place would have been as rotten the outside but I guess not. I wonder what happened?"

"Who's to say when the world formula is involved."

You came to stand beside her as she looked up at a giant painted portrait. A family portrait if you had to guess. Domique reveered the dusty frame intently.

"Is there anyone you recognize?" You asked as she knitted her brows over the faces.

"No one I've met personally but this-" She pointed to an older gentleman in the center of the family stack "-is Marquis Camille Du Frois. He was known for his developments in the field of astromite. I'm only supposing here but he may well be your grandfather."

“Grandfather, eh?” You echoed, looking up at the old man in the photo. His face was weathered and harsh and he had thin wisps of hair coming from the edge of his dome. He seemed... tired, with hard-working hands and eyes that had seen the world. That book on the automaton was labelled CDF in handwriting that might have been calligraphic once upon a time. It was likely his.

Stepping closer to the frame you noticed another tome right at the hearthstone covered in dust.

"Hey Domi?"

"Hm?"

"If I touch this with frost, what do you think will happen?"

She drew closer. The tome was slightly different from the one outside. It pulsed with an aurora-borealic hue and had wisps going in and out of the starry snowflake at its core.

"I'm not sure," she said, lips pursed curiously "but it can't hurt to find out~"

"I was hoping you might say that" You smiled and set your palm against the frosty tome.

This one was warm to the touch as if below it lay a creature in deep hibernatioin. When you began to feed it with your cool, frosty energy it was like you were slowly but surely breathing life back into manse around you. The walls began to sing with icey blue tomes, automatons jittered to life and the lights began to blink with all the brightness of the sun.

You were instantly on the defensive as tiny automatons began to  circle around you.

“Is this normal?!” You asked, backing up towards the picture frame

“They’re just automatons,” Domi reassured you, reaching down to touch one as it rushed past with a broom in hand. “They're harmless, see?”

You weren’t convinced. After all, the things were crowding and grabbing at you relentlessly. No matter how you tried to sidestep their assault they would just come back and grab harder. You chewed your lip nervously, trying to figure out what their intentions were. The only real way to do that, you figured, was to follow them. So, you did, with great reluctance. With Domi beside you, it was less worrying..

After being lead through the long, asymmetric halls and observing the paintings of familiar strangers you were lead to a large door unlike any of the others in the property. It was heavy and metal and the edges were lined with a delicate angel wings that stretched forth towards you. The machines chittered and buzzed.

“Here?” You asked them, watching as a few rolled into the ingress futily “Do... you want me to open it?”

“They are automatons Young Master, they are not able to respond to you,” Rivi said plainly “Please feed your frost into the door,”

“Ah, right.” You cleared your throat.

With your palms upon the cool handles, you breathed a chill over the frame. An icy white layer slowly glazed over the surface. The metal released a large clunk, gasping out of its place of tension and slugging open. Behind it lay a study, a deep and sinking study beneath crackling steps and aging carpets. Books were jammed into shelves as high as the ceiling and old yellow papers lay scattered across the floor.

“Are those drawings...?” Domi thought aloud.

“No... I think it’s score paper,” You replied.

Luca was simply overtaken with excitement. Before you could blink he was barreling down the stairs, eyes beaming with curiosity.

“Slow down, Master Luca!” Jeanne yelled after him.

He swooped up a sheet and held it up for you to see at the bottom of the stairs.

“Chant De Renouveau... Could you play this?” He called up to you expectantly.

You and Domi followed down into the woody workspace. You looked over the sheet, eyes narrowing to catch the details “Not without transcribing it. This is.... tenor clef? Who writes music in tenor clef?”

You looked at the sheet closely, examining the scratches and faded pencil markings all over the yellow tint paper. Rivi lit some candles as you did so.

“Unless...” You began to dig around the papers on the floor, a cocept beginning to form in your mind. “Luca, where did you get this one from?”

“It was here,” He said, taking it back and setting it down on the floor.

You eyed the sheet down where it lay. A few bars in on the first line was a end-repeat marking which meant the repeat bar had to begin. You had a suspicion, just looking at the spread of the withering papers, that it had to be around here somewhere. And whilst the papers seemed to be sprawled around, you knew that the others had to be around somewhere.

You rushed to check the other sheets. A good number of them were blank but some weren’t. Some lay half-complete whilst others were scirbbled out. One by one you and the team began to flip the papers over. Your eyes danced over the score; they narrowed as you struggled to structure the melody in your mind.

“Young Master,” Rivi interjected “Perhaps it would be wise to bring these to the surface? The lighitng in this room is hardly good for working in.”

“Not yet, Rivi. These papers, they seem to frail to withstand the change in environment,” You began to jigsaw the sheets together.

“I shall set about finding a stronger lamp then,” She said before bowing and heading up the stairs

“Thank you,”

“Not to be difficult or anything but we have an entire mansion left to explore ______,” Domi approached, careful not to step on the paper map you had laid out.

“You’re right,” You said plainly “You are welcome to go on ahead and look around. I just... I need to hear this song. Call it musician’s determination, but if this is the only surviving copy of this melody, I need to keep it alive.”

Dominique sighed “Well alright. If it excites you that much, I’ll see what I can do to help,”

“Me too!” Luca announced “Although Lord Uncle says I must be back before curfew...”

“Really?” You looked up at them surprised “Are you certain? I don’t want to dampen the adventure for you,”

“I suppose it is a little disappointing that we won’t get to see the rest of the castle today, but half of the fun is going together!” Luca explained

“If Master Luca wishes to hear this song t-then I suppose I should help as well,” Jeanne said coyly. The shuffle in her shoulders told you she also wanted to hear it a well.

“Then it’s settled,” Domi squatted down beside you and turned over a sheet “I played a little piano in the past. How hard could putting some music together be?”

Chapter Text

Difficult wasn't the word for it. Irritating wasn't even a synonym. The amount of hours you and Dominique had slaved away over that score was ridiculous. Getting it in order was the easiest part and even simply finding all the pieces took several hours. If the candles hadn't burned to the bottom, you might have spent several days there. You felt rather guilty in the end, watching Jeanne hava to carry a sleepy Luca home and Domi stumble off to her cart without a single movement of music to show for it wasn't exactly the greatest feeling. But you were all heading home (or as home as you could be in this foreign land), perhaps after some rest you'd have better luck tomorrow. 

"______!" Marquis Machina cried as you entered the door "it's the dead of night! Are you only just coming in?! Where you feasting? Who was it?"

"No Uncle I wasn't feasting!" You interrupted the barrage of questions "I was just stuck solving a musical riddle in House Du Frois,"

"Oh!" He relaxed quickly "That's quite alright, I tend to recluse when I'm designing as well, quite natural I would say. Now quickly come this way, I must know what you think of this."

"Think of what, Uncle?"

"This!"

House Du Frois was a magnificent place. It was gothic and ancient, yet charming and quirky. But House Machina was grand and great. The minimalist decor had been completely reborn into a showey display with streamers and eclectic artworks you could only imagine standing before sprawled across the walls. The house had been drenched in balloons and banners of all kinds when you returned. You stood in awe as a cake with seven tiers was rolled out from the kitchen. It took about three maids to spot the thing so it wouldn't fall apart.

"I'm a fan of sage green ribbons but I wasn't sure what you liked soI told them to put them all up. What do you think?"

"I think... I think it's wonderful~" 

Optimisim washed over your being. A sense of hope arose again. Like perhaps this place, this Altis, could be home after all. 

The journey to house Machina for the dham’s was beyond arduous. The item they had been sent to collect, as luck would have it, was the double bass that belonged to the mysterious player from the masquerade ball. Marquis Machina had a bounty out on the bass itself which was hardlyt aspparent from his initial order, because when he put the bounty to the dham’s he had only requested that they bring a box “large enough to fit a small man or large child.” Upon receiving the order, Dante had been quick to turn it down but it was Johann who pointed out that body-recovery and all the dirty work therein was clearly listed as no-go in their operational terms and conditions. Collecting a musical instrument though...? If they would have known that was what they were recovering then they would have just brought a contrabass case and been done with it! Instead they brought this dense coffin of a box, lined with lead and interwoven with astermite hinges. Perfect for security but a dreadful thing to carry that threatened to tear out their shoulders with every step they took.

“Are you certain I can’t help you with that?” Fortissimo asked for what felt like the thirtieth time “It’s really no trouble. I don't mind a-”

“I already told you-” Dante huffed “-You do your job and we’ll do ours!”

“Well you can certainly do my job. I’ve lugged this thing far enough.” Johann groaned, hiking up the great brass handles so they were the right height for their human compadre to pick up.

It became apparent to Dante almost immediately that he probably should have let Fortissimo take the load a long time ago.  The weight of the box vanished from his hands. Even though he was still holding the handle it was almost like he was carrying nothing! In fact, he was fully convinced that he could have let go of his side of the coffin and the human would have been perfectly content to carry it all the way up to the estate and them some. But he was far too proud for that, so he held fast to the brass handle right until the drop off.

The usual butler greeted them, leading them into a side room where they could drop off their things sufficiently out of the way of all the Marquis’ preparations and madness. Dante made a big show of it, huffing and stretching out his arms as they set down the box.

“Alright, there we go” He groaned as he rolled out his shoulder. The butler had long since gone by then but Marquis Machina was nowhere in sight. Usually the clockwork fiend was right around the corner, buzzing excitedly for the quarry and thruisting their payment into their hands. Today though? No show.

The quartet simply gathered around the heavy oaken crate and stared at it. “Should we take it out or...?"

“Well we got it in there, so I suppose we should?” Ritsu suggested.

Dante scoffed and slipped his hands into his pockets “Like you helped,”

“I did what I could with a broken arm! Excuse me for being mortally wounded!”

“You would hardly have done anything even if you weren’t mortally wounded!”

“Oh you think you’re so smart don’t you, Fatso!”

“Fatso?! You little brat-!”

As the duo bickered, Johann sighed and Fortissimo watched and from the other side of the hall, you returned from your visit to House Du Frois. As you spoke with Marquis Machina you noticed something in the air. A firmiliar flavour, a note you hadn’t tasted in a long time. You were in the middle of discussing the menu with him and struggling to stay focussed as the redolence danced your way.

“Roland...?” She heard you mutter under your breath.

“Young Master?” Rivi hiked her skirt and followed after you. "Is everything alright?"

You found your feet flying to a small room off to the side. There were four people in there, but only one of them caught your attenton. The blond one. Your eyes met, Topaz to Jasper, and the breath you breathed together spoke a thousand words.

But how? How are you here?

Is it really you...?

Where have you been?

What are you doing here?

Are you alright?

I’ve missed you.

I've been searching for you

I’m just glad you’re alright.

“Ah, you’re back!” You jumped, hearing Maquis Machina behind you suddenly. “And just in time, the dham’s are here.”

“Dhams...?” You repeated.

That was no dham. The blond one with the extremely dashing slickback and glasses was human - your human.

“Yes, I doubt would have met these three..." He did a double take at the group “Four? Since when are there four of you?”

“He’s-“ Johann took a hairs breadth to think “-A new recruit! Courtesy of Count Orlok,”

Marquis Machina shrugged. He didn’t care nearly enough to point out all the holes in that story but it would be useful for later. “Regardless, they’re information brokers. I asked them to recover your instrument! I expected you out a little longer, I wanted to have it serviced before you got here!”

“Thank you Uncle Machina...” You smiled, approaching the box. You knelt, slowly opening the lid to look it over, just as you left it at the ball. A little battered but very loved. “It’s... so good to see you again, I was scared I had lost you forever....”

As you said that under your breath, Roland thought for a moment that you might have meant that for him. 

You took it up in your hands, looking to Dante "Do you mind?"

"Go on ahead, it's your cello," He shrugged

You laughed a little. "it's a contrabass,"

Rivi moved to help you but you were perfectly alright hauling the little monster up and out of the box. It had been a while since you last played, and the height wasn’t set quite right but you couldn’t wait any longer. You ran your fingers over the open strings, letting there warmth echo in the halls. The staff nearby slowed to a stop. Your hands told a short story, one of loving and loss. The high ceilings made the song ring throughout the building and maids from the west to far east wing stopped to listen.

"That certainly is a sad melody..." Fortissimo spoke when you had finished. He couldn't help himself, there was so much sorrow in your beauty.

"It is..." You said with a somber smile. You looked deep into his hazel eyes. You knew it even more when he spoke that this was him, the one you had left behind. The one you missed so dearly. You found yourself staring, searching his eyes for a spark, for a touch, for something that would link your souls as they had once been again. Fortissimo inched forward, a confession on his lips but then Marquis Machina stepped in between you.

 "Wonderful yes, jolly good show!" He reached into his pocket, standing between you and the ‘broker’ as he handed Dante a stack of Francs "Your pay,"

 Dante counted it and smiled. He could line up all the zeroes in his mind's eye. Then he pocketed it neatly. "Pleasure doing business as usual. Come on guys, let's bounce."

 With his hands in his pockets he turned to leave and the brokers all turned to follow him. All but one. Roland was reluctant to turn, he wanted to stay with you just one moment more. To talk to you if even for a minute more. But alas, he had his cover and if he stayed too long it would be blown.

"W-wait!" You peaked over the clockwork fiend's arm "Will... will I see you again...?"

The question was for Fortissimo. They all knew it without you having to say his name.

Dante still gave his usual unvarnished response. "We're information brokers, we go where the money is,”

"Then... The debutante! It's in a few days, you're bound to hear something at a party right?" You went on, voice bordering on begging "come. Please..?"

Dante paused. You were right. It would certainly be a closed loop rife with hot information. It would probably mean losing Fortissimo as their muscle if they went but damn, a room of drunk royals was pretty prospect.

He weighed up the options, confirming witht he others with a single look to the two at his side. The team made their choice and the redhead delivered it back. "Fine, we'll be there."

Fortissimo breathed again, his shoulders relieved of tension. He would be coming back. He couldn't see you again.

"I'm look forward to it," You smiled and the warmth from your face radiated across the room.

Chapter Text

The next day you went to House Du Frois in the early hours of the morning to transcribe. Your debutante was in the evening after all and you needed to get the music completed beforehand so you could actually focus on the event. Your mind was so occupied with which sheets went where that you actually stopped eating breakfast on several occasions, spoon halfway to your mouth. After many hours of toil in the dank cellar, you did manage to complete re-arrange the score although it took nearly all the candles available in the process.

"I think I'm nearly there!" You said cheerfully, standing up and dusting off your knees.

"You're cheerful today, Young Master," Rivi said, handing you a sweet drink in a flask.

"Of course! I feel like I might actually get this song ready for the debutante," You took a sip "By the time I'm done with hair and makeup I may have to sight read it in order to perform it but I feel confident,"

"You have worked very hard Young Master," Rivi replied "Lord Camille was extremely talented and able write music in any key simply by singing it aloud. Perhaps you picked up some of that skill?"

"I doubt it, he sounded more formidable than I could ever hope to be," You gathered up the old papers gently.

"You are formidable in your own right for being willing to take on the challenge of transcribing his works. Both parts as well might I add," She commended you.

You smiled at that, taking the folder under your arm and starting for the stairs.

"Thank you Rivi," You said, pushing a loose book on the shelf back into place "Let's head back,"

"Yes, Young Master,"

As the two of you started for the stairs you felt a rising breeze in the room. The shelves began to crackle and screech. The seams of the giant oak doors began to turn open, leaving a cloud of dust on it's wake. You coughed and spluttered desperately. But as the smoke cleared your eyes settled to the darkness and the awful smell coming from within.

You gagged at the sight cloaked in shadows "Rivi, please tell me that's not what I think it is..."

"Unfortunately Young Master, I do believe that is a corpse," She choked, somehow still refined as she spluttered.

"I think I'm going to be sick...!" You covered your nose overwhelmed by the stench, coming down and pawing for whatever book set off the trap. The corpse, you noticed, had a book on its lap. You debated leaving it be for a moment but no stench was enough to waive your curiosity. You snatched it quickly and closed up shelves as quickly as you could managed and drove the notion that you did not just touch a dead man's sticky, decaying skin into your head.

"Rivi, let's go home. Now. I need to santize myself thoroughly."

The book, as it turned out, was a journal. The final journal of many written by Camille Du Frois, the rest of which lined the many shelves of that study. Within it you find many things about your grandfather. One, that he was very eccentric and two, he was a very unfeeling man until music was involved. He told of the song that won him his wife and the song that he wrote for the birth of his children early on but rarely did he talk about the people themselves. That was until he mentioned the Chant.

The Chant De Renouveau was a strange entry in the series. It was a lengthy orchestration compared the others he breezed past, set up like an entire orchestral piece- an opera even- but it was a duet with seven separate movements and a good chucnk of the journal was spent in the piece's analysis. Each of the movements were named after one of the seven stages of grief. Supposedly he wrote it during the great vampire war after he lost his daughter to Vieux Paris. He had every intention of somehow using the Chant to bring the war to its end so that they could be reunited. The final movement, elation, lay incomplete to this day. It seemed her leaving to Vieux for safety was a decision made after losing his wife to the war. He couldn't are the devestation again and thus he sent her away. He never got over it and as such the piece lay incomplete.

You read it over as the maids did your nails and hair. You couldn't help but wonder... if Camille had been alive to see you if that would have been the elation he needed to overcome his mourning. You wondered if you were worthy carrying on his legacy, if such a thing could be or even should be carrie. How heavy it felt as the family crest was clipped into your hair, how your shoulders rolled with the burden. This snowy spiral of emerald and sapphire that sat upon your crown, would thtey expect you to know the gravity of it? All you knew about your grandfather lay within 100 pages and an unfinished orchestration. What if... What if after what you read, what you were wasn't enough?

"Young Master," Rivi interrupted your train of thought "All that's left is for your gown to arrive but it seems the delivery is running late,"

"Oh, t-thats no problem. I shall take to the practice room in the mean time,"  You said, carefully picking up the papers so as not to ruin your nails.

"Of course. I shall come collect you when it's time,"

The practice room was a little ways away from the main hall. After the dhams returned your bass, Marquis Machina had them lug it across the estate to the practice room for you since it was close enough to your room without being too far from the main hall. He had wanted to set it in a huge space and fill it up with all kinds of viol accutrement but you'd requested a small room instead. One without high ceilings and extravagant furniture. There in the centre of the room lay your instrument. You smiled at it. Your musical journey lately had been tumultuous. You hoped that playing for your debutante might reinvogate the love you had for music before... well, before you played for Madame Beatrice.

You took your position behind the bass and started with the fourth movement; La Crisé. It was a lethargic piece. When you played it, all you could was sigh and consider.

The melody resounded out through the halls and echoed out into the gardens where guests were beginning to gather. They mingled with cocktails and tiny entrées as they eagerly awaited the official introduction of the heir to House Du Frois. The dhams were there as you'd requested, posted up on the corner with canopes in hand.

"We are here way to early..." Dante groaned with his arms crossed tightly and his head thrown off to the side "Nobody is even drinking yet!"

"Patience Dante, it's almost time~" Johann reassured gently.

Dante only grumbled in response. The sound of your practice was louder to him than that of the tune playing on through the automaton band across the green thanks to his dhampir blood. Unlike the rigid, steely lilt of the machine's music yours was crisp and clear, somber and pleading. It was the song that brought them back here so early. As much as he loathed to admit it, your lonely strings called to him like a siren and there wasn't much he could do about it. He sighed, standing beside Fortissimo and shoving a masquerade mask onto his hands.

"What is this for?" Roland asked, taking it on hand.

"Go to the second floor, east wing towards and right. Should be third room on the left," He looked up, eyes serious as he added "She's waiting."

"...Right. Thank you Dante," Said the Jasper before sallying off to find an open window.

"You do like him, don't you~" Risu teased.

"Shut up." Dante snapped back.

The more you read of your grandfather’s journal the more of a genius he bacame in your mind. Your contrabass, you came to learn, was no simple thing. Both the strings and the hairs on the bow had been made from carefully engineered astermite. He had created some machine (the technology of which was far beyond your comprehension) that cast the stone into fibers by creating an alloy. It was his hope that the music from the instrument could create a better world, ending the war. But he died long before he had the chance to test it out.

You looked as it lay across the floor in the practice room. This thing, this instrument... As it lay before you it seemed to morph from a friend to a strager, a tool for joy and emotion to a weapon for war and destruction. Had it been a coincidence that you had picked up the double bass as your instrument of choice? And specifically the bass made by Camille Du Frois no less? Your mind began to spiral thinking of everything in your life, how much of your existence was conincidence? Was there something greater at play? Was it now your duty to be the guardian of this... thing? To protect it in some way? And what would that even mean? The ramblings on the page made nothing clearer for you..

You placed yourself down on a seat in the corner and stared, letting your mind wander far from this plane of existence. For how long you didn’t know. You only became aware of your catatonic state when the door knocked gently.

“C—come in...” You spoke meekly as you set the book on the arm rest beside you.

From the other side, a blond haired Hazel eyed face appeared. His eyes locked onto yours and with a firmiliar tone and a gentle smile as he breathed. “Cherie... You’re here....”

His fragrance filled the room and is voice drew in your wandering conciousness. In that moment, your walls crumbled down. There was no facade, no marquis, no status. There was only the tears on your cheeks and the strong arms around you.

“Roland....” You quaked in his arms “You're really here...?”

“I’m sorry it took so long...” He held you close. You were frail, body thin beneath the bustles of fabric you were swaddled in and your skin seemed stripped of its regular glow. Clearly you hadn't been sleeping. “Are you alright...?”

You shook your head in his chest. “There’s so much to tell you. I don’t even know where to start... I’m sorry a-and I’m so ashamed but I’m so grateful you’re here...! I feel so overwhelmed, I-I just-”

“Please, let me go first...” He loosened his grip just enough to see your face. "I'm so relieved to see you,"

Your mind raced through the possibilities of what he might say. But, oh... the timber of his voice went through you and his scent was like perfume in the air. A perfume that comforted and confused you. After all, the last time you saw him you robbed him of his dignity, you'd partaken of his blood without his consent.

You pulled away from him, shaking your head. “Everything is different now. You’re a chasseur, I am vampire. This can’t work."

You swung a hand, not realising you had tipped the journal over until it clattered to the ground. You jumped, you heart threatening to leap from your throat at the spike. Roland calmly knelt down and set about gathering the sprawled sheet music as he carefully considered his choice of words.

"I saw something rather interesting recently," He began with a soft tone "A vampire and a human sharing a laugh together. I never thought I would see the day when two people that I had learnt were so opposite could be so unified. My heart felt like it was fit to burst...~"

He set the stand upright and chuckled at the memory. Once the sheets were in their rightful place within the journal's pages again, he continued;

"I began questioning everything and it made me realize that I've so much left too learn. But one thing I do know is that it shouldn't matter what you are, when you love someone only who you are inside is truly important,"

He took a breath and looked around the music room. If this was your place now, he had no place in it. There was no way he could stay in Altis and he certainly wouldn't take all of this away from you, you had gone through enough. If this was where you wanted to be, if you had truly found your people then perhaps it would be wrong to pull you away.

"...You were in the middle of something though, I shan't disturb you any further," He slipped his hands into his pockets and making his way towards the door "I'm glad to see you're still doing what you love. There are people who need your radiance. Please, do not stop on my account."

There was so much he had left to say, so many more questions he longed to ask. And yet he wouldn't have the chance to. Now wasn’t the time. You were hardly in a place to receive what he wanted to give. It would be a long road back to normality, but as a warrior of the church he was used to biding his time. As much as he wanted to simply be yours again, he could wait. And if that meant waiting an eterenity, he would do so. He gave you a solemn smile as he reached for the door handle.

Your breath caught in your throat. You didn't want him to leave. You didn't want to let him go, you couldn't let him go.

"I-!" You broke the silence, halting him from opening the door "I'm a monster..."

"Don't say that,"

"I am, I bit you when I shouldn't have. I-i hurt you,"

"I didn't hurt at all," He chuckled a little, hand grazing the marks "If anything, it was rather pleasant in hindsight,"

You struggled to respond, words tight in your throat as if your heart held them for ransom.

"If anything, it was I who hurt you. I can't imagine the torment of hearing such harsh words about your kind coming from someone you love-" He paused himself "or rather loved... I'm sorry,"

Your body moved on its own, feet pounding against the wooden floor, body leaping through the air as you thrust yourself in his arms.

"I do love you!" You locked your arms around him tightly, eyes burning, cheeks wet "don't you dare make that choice for me, I love you so much!"

He stood there for a moment, suprised, then pulled you in tighter. "I love you too..."

His jacket became stained with tears as he held you, even he had started to cry as he nestled his head atop yours. You wept with each other for a while, tied in an embrace you'd both longed for for weeks.

“Things are so different now. Life has changed – I’ve changed. I hardly know who I am anymore...”

“I know you _______, I know that you’re still the person I fell in love with even if the world has thrown its worst at you. Your heart is still the same. I feel it, even beneath all the sorrow and pain....”

You cried in each other’s arms for a long while after that, After sometime he pulled away.

"Oh dear, this is embarrassing," He chuckled much to your confusion "it appears I've triggered some shrinkage,"

You reached up, feeling where his tears had caused your hair to revert back to its short, shrubby state in patches.

"Rivi will have your head if she finds out...~"

"Who's Rivi?"

"She's my handmaid,"

"You have a handmaid?!"

"I do now, yes."

"You see, I always told you that you were a princess,"

"A marquis is slightly different but you weren't too far off, I'll give you that."

You took his hand and walked over to the sofa. There you sat hand in hand and talked candidly. You told him as much as you could about Altis, the things you'd learnt since coming here and the many mysteries of your heritage. About how you got to be here and the rosemary patron that got you across the border.

"I know it’s a lot to process..." You began, twiddling your thumbs in your lap "But regardless, I shouldn’t have drank your blood. I feel awful about it, doing all of that without a contract in place and then running off like a coward instead of just talking to you about it all. I was just so worried that you would hate me or worse..."

You sighed and set your hands together in your lap. Your head felt hot and tight as you squeezed towads your conclusion.

"I think... I think we should-"

"Let's start over," He took over the converation, kneeling in front of you, your hands in his "We both had our own secrets to protect and things we'd rather not share. And in the time we spent apart we have both changed and learnt a lot! I want to know everything there is to know about you; about your family and your new perfumes and your favourite Altisian foods. I meant what I said when I told you I want to carry you as my bride, that hasn't changed at all. What do you say, ma chérie?"

"...I'd like that very much Roland," You smiled. He smiled back. But the deeper he looked, the more he realised something was amiss.

"Is... something the matter? Whatever it is, I'm sure we can work it out,"

You sighed, eyes watering as you began to unbutton your collar. Upon your left collarbone sat a dark green mark tattooed into your skin. It's shape was foxlike and sly, a mocking thing.

"A mark of possession..."

You nodded solemnly "Sometimes, even when agreements are put in place they can be violated. Vampires can take things too far. I only understood the gravity of it after it happened to me," You smiled sadly, head hung low

He drew you in tightly, petting your head. "It's alright mon amour, we'll figure this out together..."

A knock at the door interrupted your intimacy "Young Master, your gown has arrived. We will be ready to dress you very shortly,"

"Alright Rivi!" You called out

"Young Master eh~?" Roland purred.

You slapped his arm earning a hearty chuckle.

"I have to go now," You stood up with him, loathing the fact that you'd have to stop holding him soon. "Once I go out there, there will be thousands of stranger expecting me to take over my grandfather's position. I don't know if I can do that..."

"Then don't," He said plainly "You are yourself and that is all you can be. You can't be expected to do something or be someone your not. I think your grandfather would be elated that you are even here claiming him as family, you're a wonderful human being- well, vampire I should say. His legacy lives on in you by virtue of you existing the way God made you, not the way some stranger sees you,"

He smiled and headed towards the window. How he unlocked it with such ease you didn't know. That man was a wizard with his fingers. You smiled as the breeze made his dandelion dance.

"If ever you feel scared, just say the word and I'll be right by your side." He gave a warm, bright smile. “I’m so glad we were able to talk like this...”

“Likewise..." You walked to the window where he perched within the frame. You could taste him through him on the air, a fine treat indeed... You pulled away and shook yourself out of it. "Thank you Rollie. I mean it,"

"You're quite welcome, dearest... save me a dance?"

"For you? Any time~"

Balls in high society are the birthplace of a lot of things. New beginnings, young love and rumours. Following the reawakening of House Du Frois, many rumours spread. It was cursed, some said, astermite riddled it's halls and thus the spirits of the Du Frois elders must have been trapped within it. Their souls reanimated the place at the behest of a certain pied piper.

The rumours were viscous as the cold night air, mocking and scathing as Belladonna waded back to her residence in layers of torn and sullied silk. Her staff were nowhere to be found and her rage boiled like a kettle; discreet until it wasn't. She had expected a victory that night, a sweet and overwhelming victory that would secure not only her status in society but a tool to maintain it. Yet here she was, back where she came from; lowly and alone.

The maid that greeted her at the door was beheaded. The act was unceremonious and gruesome, she hardly had a chance to take the ladies coat before her life was taken from her. The shadow of death entered through the doors that night, and many servants were lost to her wrath. Her tirade was only paused by the sound whimpering and whining in the far corner. She followed it with her eyes to the broken window and the trail of glass which lead to the doorman tied up not too far away. He was woefully unprepared for the ladies wrath as he hung precariously from balustrade. With one sharp nail she tore free his lips, unbothered by the torn skin it left behind.

"My Lady! Oh, thank goodness you're here, I-"

"My patience is thin," Her voice was harsh like a scathing winter breeze "Where is the carriage?"

"H..." He tore at his voice, drawing up what little speech she hadn't stolen and breathing out "House Machina... They took the cart to House Machina. I tried to stop them My Lady, but-!"

That was more than enough. His voice was bothersome and he wouldn't be needing it anyway, so she removed the option for him. The solution stopped him breathing but that wouldn't be an issue. Her focus was the phone call. Her laboured breathing eased as she emptied her hands of the carcasses and the recipient answered.

"How was the ball?" That was Jeanne-Pierrre. The condescending lilt in his voice may have just been in her imagination but it bothered her regardless.

"Shut up," She spat "Do you have it?"

"Straight to business as usual," He scoffed. The roll of his eyes was audible "Yes, the chassuers gave me flute without much fuss. All I had to do was wave some francs at them and they handed it over,"

Belladonna seemed to unclench at that. "Good. Play it."

"What? Now? But we don't even have the-"

"PLAY IT! I have been waiting far too long for this!"

With a loud crunch the line went dead. Vergier winced away from the ear piece, the disgust evident in his turned features. Their marriage may well have been one of convinience to get Belladonna amnesty across the border but some respect would have been nice. The thing about Belladonna was that she didn't take kindly to being told no, and Jean-Pierrre wasn't exactly in the mood for fighting. If she returned to Paris and didn't find the flute's song hanging in the air she would surely have his head. Another trip to the chassuers would do it. The ugly one with a venomous smile, he would do the job for pennies. And certainly they would have a copy of the song somewhere in the archives.

"Donovan," He sighed, standing up again "Ready the cart. We have work to do..."

Chapter Text

You were late to the ball. Terribly late. Thanks to the aquatic intrusion of one Rol-... Fortissimo your hair had began to revert from it's meticulously coffered coils to a frizzy bump. Rivi was not the least bit pleased. The scolding your received was biblical, and she didn't care if the hot comb burned on its way to your roots. 

"Time is against us, the guests are arriving!" She went on as she drowned you in hairspray and waxes "A fraction later and they'll be too drunk on wine to remember you even exist!"

You were suited, booted and wrangled into your gown. Layers and layers of silk and chiffon teamed around your waist and golden threads adorned the whole affair. The russet red shifted into metallic copper as you stepped. Then with a little gloss and a delicate winged liner, you were ready. 

Throughout your time at House Machina, Rivi had been taking you through all the etiquette of high society. People at this level of society were strange. They had enough money to not care about how much food was wasted after a party, but could be extremely picky about what foot you set off walking with. She was at your side as you went, making sure the pleated wings of golden organza that floated behind you didn't catch on anything. On the floor below we're lords and ladies, marquis and princes, rich and filthy rich. You swallowed hard, careful to keep your chin up as your presence was announced. 

"______ of House Du Frois enters!" The doorman called and as the doors opened you could hear the twelve piece band completely change the music. Had they done that for everyone? And why did it feel so strange when they did it for you?

Marquis Machina waited at the bottom of the steps. You assumed he was looking on proudly from behind that giant fishing mask but you could hardly tell if he was even actually in your direction. Regardless, you bowed neatly to him when you reached the bottom of the stairs. 

"Uncle Varney," You greeted him with a deep curtsey. You kept your eyes low as you'd been taught, especially because the volatile Lady Veronika was at his side and you wanted no trouble with her. Especially not after last time.  Instead you bowed neatly in front of her, focussing on her golden diamante stilettos as you said "Lady Veronika, it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

"You've managed to teach the rat some manners Francis," You could feel her cold eyes looking down at you. 

"Sometimes polishing a stone reveals a diamond. And I know how much you love those." He steamed, the usual joviality in his tone echoing with a tinny ring. 

"Hm." Was all she said as you rose up again. That must have been good. You assumed it was good anyway. She wasn't threatening to kill you at the very least. Whatever Francis Varney said or did to her, she was tolerating you and that was all you could ask. 

You took your place at his other side and leant towards Rivi slightly. 

"We're supposed to dance now right?" You asked keeping your lips as still as you could manage whilst still acknowledging onlookers with a smile.

"You must wait for someone to ask to dance with you first my lady," She explained simply

"Okay... So what are they waiting for?" You looked across the room. Hungry eyes were practically one with the wallpaper. "I'm here, aren't I?"

"I assume they're sizing up the competition, Young Master," 

"I see..." 

You looked out across the hall as folks mixed and mingled around you. They always left a radius, a line within which none would enter... You couldn't understand it. Wasn't this supposed to be your debutant? You looked over your shoulder to Marquis Machina, but he was obviously far too occupied with fawning over Veronika to give you any attention. And yet there were eyes, eager eyes all over you. Gawking at you like some vintage item on display. It was strange, being watched without being on stage.

"There's no two ways about it then..." You sighed. It was plain to see that they were eagerly awaiting your next move. You knew what they wanted. You recognised many faces from the masquerade. "Rivi, my dress please."

"Now, young master? But you just arrived!" She protested

"I get the feeling dancing will be the last thing on their minds until I get this over with..."

You made your way to the stage where you bass lay, nodding at the quartet as you went. You had anticipated that you might be required to play and had it polished and set aside. You pulled up the instrument and leant it's shoulder into your sternum. It say comfortably in your core, you could almost feel it ring and pulsate with energy throughout your nerves. Now that it was cleaned, the bow's true hue shone through. What was a chestnut brown before was truly a deep mahogany red that eased towards a chocolatey, almost black tones. It's colour sat wonderfully against your complexion. 

As you settled your fingers about the frog, a strange sensation rippled through your body. Energy- cold and gripping energy- crawled through you, hungry and searching for release. You could feel it, the astemite begging to be played. Fortunately you didn't need sheet music to play the piece after seeing it a few times, so you plucked your arrow from the quiver and drew it rapidly across the strings with all the agility and sharpness as the autumnal winds. 

As you did so you had no idea that in Vieux Paris atop the highest point of the Eiffel tower stood one Jean-Pierre Vergier playing the counterpart for your solliloquay. The bone flute in his hands had a hypnotic warmth to it's sound, like that of a sparrows song in winter or the salt on the air above the ocean waves. Humans and vampires alike stopped to listen to it's call singing through their astermite projectors and slowly, one by one, they began to fall prey to its melody... 

The vampires in house Machina were enthralled. The melody you played left no prisoners, Fortissimo being one of them. From the back corner of the hall, he smiled and watched intently. He found his fingers tingling around the glass of wine in his hand. He remembered this song, you'd played it at the park one day. It sounded so bright and vibrant. Just like how he remembered you back then. 

"Amazing...~" Risu said beside him "Your Juliet is really phenomenal."

"Indeed," Fortissimo said wistfully as he sipped on his drink. 

From their vantage point at the back of the hall they could see everything, from the proud strike of your bow you took at the end of your piece to Lord Ruthven striding confidently across the hall to take your hand for a dance. After that, the tide of the ball changed completly. The entire congregation began to breath with an ease, a release of tension. Some rumours were quelled whilst others were started. After all, House Du Frois had been lost long ago in the human/vampire war. It's resurgence now would certainly shake vampire society even if ______ had no clear opinions or preferences towards it. 

The door to the hall opened and shut. It was discreet and at the time there was no  doorman to feedback to the crowd who jad entered. But her aura permeated the room. The dhams froze. The staggering way she walked, the sound of her heels o against the tile floor, the overwhelming rosemary rush in the air; this woman was dangerous. Before they even had a chance to respond she began making her way across the room. 

"Isn't that the woman from the ball masque..." Risu gulped. Vengeance was evident in the way that she stepped. Roland followed her line of sight to where Madame Beatrice, clothed now in all black lace, was making her way across the crowd "How did she find this place?"

"I don't suppose it was particularly difficult with how gossip travels around high society," Fortissimo straightened the bow tie on his neck. After everything you'd told him he couldn't just let her do as she wished. "I'm going in,"

"Hold on a moment, what are you planning?" Risu latched onto his arm "People like us aren't exactly permitted to do whatever we want in this place."

She was right of course. They were already toeing a thin line in being here, if anybody found out that dhampir Fortissimo was actually the very human Roland Fortis and a chasseur no less, pandemonium would ensue.

"Don't worry," He said with a confident smile "I'm only going to ask her to dance,"

Risu eyed him intently. There was no signs of sweat on his brow, flitting eyes or a racing pulse. Whilst the move itself was reckless, Fortissimo seemed to be operating with a cool head. That must have been the virtue of being a warrior of the church, being able to move securely in high pressure situations without a shadow of doubt in your mind. 

"Just... Be careful alright?" Was all she said before letting him go and falling away into the rivers of moving bodies.

"Splendid performance as usual, my dear," Lord Ruthven smiled as you sashayed with him arm in arm around the dance floor. You feel surprisingly safe with him, held so tightly in his overwhelmingly large arms that there was no chance of escape. 

"Thank you, Lord Ruthven. You flatter me." You smiled back, keeping your eyes on his to ignore the leering ones around you. "I didn't bring the sheet music with me so I made a few mistakes-"

"Ah-ah-ah," He scolded "There will be no more of that,"

"No more of what?"

"Admitting your mistakes. In a place like this, humility is your downfall,"

"That makes sense. Perhaps I could say... that I took a little creative license with the original score?"

"That's more like it," He gave you a proud nod "Tonight is your night! You should be a little more greedy, prouder even. Some people aren't kind enough to hear self-degredation and not take it as an opportunity to walk all over you,"

The concept was a little foreign to you. You chewed it over in your mind, formulating a concept of someone who could behave like that. That seemed far foreign to your current state though. "I think that might take me some getting used to..."

"Well, you'll have plenty of chances tonight!" Ruthven chuckled "Have fun, go and mingle, break a few hearts! You're young enough to get away with it,"

"And you're not, Lord Ruthven?" You cocked a playful eyebrow earning a hearty chuckle from the elder.

"It seems you're already getting the hang of things," He said as he returned you to your original space at the top room. He bowed and you returned the gesture with equal depth "Enjoy the rest of your evening, my dear. It seems you'll be dancing for quite a long while,"

He gestured over his shoulder to the ever growing crowd of curious royals. You winced silently at the prospect. This would, indeed, be a long night. 

It was fortunate that some royal (who's only defining trait in your mind was his gravel-like voice and earthy green hair) swept you up promptly afterwards as not too far behind him, Madame Beatrice came storming through the hall with Fortissimo hot on her heels. She seemed dead set on tearing you out of the grasp of whoever or whatever you were occupied with. She reached forth a clawed hand, eager to shred and sliver but surprisingly she found her fingers intertwined with the calloused and well worn palms of... A dhampir...?

"Forgive me, my lady, but I saw you from across the way and just had to ask you to dance," Fortissimo had the draw his teeth into a smile. The malicious intent seeping from every pore in her body was caustic and being so close to it was wreaking havoc on his nervous system. Nonetheless, he pressed on.

"Unhand me, worm," She hissed, her eyes forming into serpentine slits.

But Fortissimo was undeterred. Despite her dwarfing him in size and very evidently in strength. He slipped his arms about her in a waltz hold, hauled in a breath and wrenched the woman into the heaving pulse of the ballroom "Come now, my lady, indulge me for just one song?"

"You ingrate...!" Beatrice groaned as the footwork drew her further and further from her target. "Unhand me this instant!"

Her grip tightened around his palm, threatening to crush it into pieces. Fortissimo began to sweat, only spinning her around in retaliation. His aim was to get her to the door or as close to it as humanly possible. If he could move her towards the door then surely the guards could handle it from there. He bit down on his cheek to keep the pain from spewing out of his lips. 

It was unfortunate that the Madam's state of rage made her acute sensitivity to scent even stronger than usual. She sniffed the air for a moment and smirked. Her eyes shifted to a dark, sadistic hunger as she looked Fortissimo over. 

"Are you finally enjoying yourself?" He asked, hoping the conversation would distract him from his urge to fight-or-flight. 

"I am now, little human~" 

Roland's eyes widened for a second but he was trained to keep up his poker face. "Whatever do you mean?"

"Oh, I think you know. A human in Altis is quite the surprise. What? Did you come to find a cure for vampirism? Or perhaps you're hunting a quarry?"

"I heard the weather was good so I decided to take a little trip,"

Beatrice scoffed "Please. The sun never shines in hell."

"Perhaps not but the moonlight is rather enthralling...~"

"Enough of these games!"

The chasseur's feet were suddenly removed from the floor. He hardly knew what happened between the time he was dancing and the wind being blown out of his chest. White light flushed into his eyes. His body, his whole body, met the floor. There was screaming washing in and out of the distance but he couldn't pick up from where. Everything was spinning. He couldn't push up. Pain rushed through him as blood coughed out.

"You're just in my way, all of you are just in my way!" Beatrice roared, storming across the path that had cleared in Fortissimo's wake. 

The lord who had been dancing with you sprang off and scrambled as far away from the conflict as he could. A firmiliar scent hit the air. You couldn't see much from where you were, but you pushed through restless crowd until you were at the front, watching as the faux dhampir struggled against the tall vampiric temptress.

"If you know what's good for you, you'll stay down there human!" She spat, eager to keep the noun away from her tongue. "Or I'll put you in the dirt where you belong…"

"A human? In Altis!?" You heard from someone behind you 

"I feel sick..! What is it doing here?"

"Let's kill it whist it's vulnerable,"

"I could could with a good snack...~"

The scent of rosemary, rumoursand Roland racked through your body. Your heart was racing in your throat. The crowd was beginning to close around Roland too. Where were the dhams? Why weren't they helping him?? And did that mean you had do something?! Of course you had to, he was your darling! And this was your ball!

"H....hold on," You said just loudly enough for the pursuing partiers to heed your wishes. With your skirt in hand you rushed towards Roland's and held him in your arms.

"My lady!" Rivi scolded, quietly urging you to stay still.

But you were undettered. After all, he was yours. And that... woman had hurt him. 

"Well now, there you are my dear..~" The Madame's voice took on a saccharine lilt as you clutched your darling in your arms.

He could feel you shaking around him. Even though he couldn't quite make out your expression, he could sense the concern . He could feel the lock of your attention on him, the lady's words going completely over your head. Your thumb grazed over his cheek. The first wound there was shallow but would scar. It riled you up to no end, another vampire marking your beloved's skin...

"I've been looking everywhere for you," Beatrice began to speak behind you. Her voice ran shivers through your spine. "After I went through all that trouble to have you perform at the masquerade, to get your name out there, you just run off to this place? How heartless. Now come on. We're leaving."

As the demand was made, people began to whisper. This nobody vampire was ordering you around? At your debutante? Who exactly was she? And how much would you respond? You could hear their words rumours already and feel the hungry, rueful eyes. Your gaze met Rivi's. Her eyes were soft and sorrowful as she pleaded for your safety.

"Tonight is your night!" Lord Ruthven has said during your waltz "You should be a little more greedy, prouder even."

This was your debut into high society at large. If you went down now, it would surely bring shame to House Machina and all the way work the marquis put into this party. So instead you puffed your chest and took a deep breath. 

"This is my home," You said firmily, reassuring yourself "And you are not welcome here..."

Beatrice gave an incredulous laugh "Your home? You wouldn't even have a home if it wasn't for me! I own you, remember?"

As she gestured to her neck a resounding gasp echoed throughout the room. A mark of possession on a member of high society was unheard of. It was reserved for boreaus and human feeding toys. And yet for it to claimed to be on the skin of one under House Machina? Surely it couldn't be so!

You stood up slowly.

"Be greedier" Lord Ruthven had advised you.

So you put on the skin and smile of the greediest woman you knew, Maria of Luna Pulse. She always had a wry smile and a smug look on her face, and when she laughed she would hold her fingers across her face just so. 

"Oh dear Madame, has the drink gotten away with you?" You gave a patronising grin, your sharp teeth glinting in the ruby moonlight "Surely you aren't so uncouth as to forget you place in this house after a single cup of wine?" 

Her veneer cracked a little. "How... How dare you!?"

"How dare I? You lay your hands on my guest at my party and have the audacity to elude yourself into believing that I, ______ Du Frois, would serve another?" You scoffed, hardening your eyes as a chill ran over the room. "You forget yourself."

As memories of the attrocities she put you through flooded into your mind, fine shards and silken frost clung in a path beneath your feet.

"You're fortunate that I'm a generous soul. I suggest you leave whilst I'm being polite about it,"

Beatrice was inconsolable, you could feel it in the mark on your throat. Her screech echoed throughout the hall. You were lying through your teeth and using your newly acclaimed clout, clout that she got for you, to back it up. In the moment she lost control and leapt forward to strike you, her feet slipped from beneath her. The frost from your feet snatched hers abnd sent her plummenting face first into the ground. The crowd gasped at the loud cccrrrrunch as she fell chin first into floor. It felt good, watching her fall beneath you. You thought it best to keep her there.

You stopped forth until she could practically licked your boot. She looked so insignificant from here. So small, like an insect... you remebered when she had looked at you like this. How amusing it was to watch her fall. 

"Never show your face in front of me again. I won't be so kind next time." And with another stamp of your foot, a frozen path flurried across the tiles sending Beatrice Belladonna skidding violently out of the door and into the ice cold moat. You nodded to the doorman as he closed the door behind you.

"Well then, now that's sorted...." You turned back towards the maestro and had him fire up a number to get the crowd moving. 

Rivi ran promptly to your side, face wrought with grief. It wasn't obvious to everyone, but the small ruffle in her brow was enough for you to recognise. You nodded to her briefly, allowing her to take the chasseur off whilst you handled the rest of the party. Once they were out of the door it only took a single command to get the crowd moving. It was almost like Belladonna Beatrice had never existed.

"Honestly I don't know what the Young Master is thinking, defending a human in high society like that," She scolded you in your absence. Despite the fact that she was tending Roland's wounds, it was evident that she wasn't happy about it in the least. 

"I thought my dhampir disguise was very convincing," Roland offered in return, a poor attempt at breaking the ice.

"To anyone drunk enough not to use their nostrils perhaps it would be," Rivi spat back

Roland gave an awkward chuckle. He was particularly proud of the bat shaped dickie bow Johann had kitted him out with, but apparently it did nothing for him. He quietly thanked Rivi as she finished his bandages. 

It didn't take long for the dhams to come by and push the door open. Roland was glad for the intrusion. This maid was proving harder to crack into a smile than Olivier! 

"He's in here," Johann said proudly to the others. His sharp nose made tracing the human out of the party an easy task. They'd seemingly been betting on who could find Roland the fastest and evidently the silver haired sniffer was victorious "Told you I could find him~"

"Yeah yeah, whatever" Dante rolled his eyes "Hey Jasper, you know anything about a bone flute?"

Roland remembered finding it on his travels to Rouen and taking it into his custody for safe keeping. "It's with the chasseurs. It's safe, or at least it should be..."

"I doubt it anymore. Sounds to me like Miss Belladonna had one of her friends get hold of it,"

"What? That can't be right. Who would do that...?"

"Look, clearly you missed the memo. Your chasseur friends aren't perfect servants of God, they're there for the paycheck. All it takes is the right amount of francs and your artifacts are out the door,"

Roland opened his mouth to respond but couldn't. He knew in his heart of hearts that the chasseur organisation had it's dark spots. He'd even manipulated them himself once or twice but it was always for the greater good! At least that's what he told himself. 

"From what I could gather, she's planning something with that flute and it's happening tonight," Dante continued 

"Whatever it is, it can't be good. I could see her malicious intent from across the room!" Risu shivered "We should find somewhere safe to-"

"We need to stop her," Roland slid off the seat and.clipepe on his neck tie again. 

"What? Are you insane!?" Dante exclaimed, sweating at the concept. He found himself punctuating with his hands "We are brokers! Information! Brokers! We gather information, we don't do anything with it!"

"I understand that, but I can't simply hear this information and do nothing about it," He started for the door "You don't have to come with me, but if you could get me across the barrier that wouldn't ask for much else,"

The dhams looked between themselves. Plans rarely went expected but leaping into the fray in Vieux Paris was never on the docket for the brokers. And yet if they turned down Roland's help, they'd lose their meat shield. The plan was to keep him around for at least a week! Losing him here would pose quite the quandary.

Rivi interjected into the stale silence by sluicing the medical towels. "You ought to leave before people start putting their noses where they don't belong, the sooner you leave the easier it'll be to get your scent out of the halls,"

"Right," He finished dressed and straightened his clothes before looking at her. "Your name was Rivi, wasn't it?"

The cold look she gave him told him the answer was yes, but she didn't trust him nearly enough to verbalise that.

"Thank you for everything"

Rivi narrowed her eyes "Why exactly are you thanking me?"

"I was worried about whether ______ would be alright. But with someone like you at her side, I don't think that'll be an issue," He smiled and started on his way to the door "I hope you enjoy the rest of the evening. And please tell _____ not to worry about me."

He gave a smile over his shoulder then before he left with the dhampirs in tow. To anyone else it might have seemed confident. But Rivi could see it, the gleam of a final goodbye. She was just glad that it was she who had seen it and not the Young Master. 

Chapter Text

After all of that, the party went back to normal. Or as normal as it could have been in a place like Altis. People danced with you and offered their hands. You turned them down with a gentle laugh and a joke polite enough for a no but severe enough not to sever relations. One by one the guests began to filter out and as you bid them farewell, you wondered if you actually had to remember any of their names or faces.

"What an eventful evening," That was Dominique, you recognised her playfully polite tone as she approached you on her way out. "Thank you for hosting us ______ Du Frois~"

"And I thank you for attending, Dominique Du Sade~"

You both curtseyed, knowing full well that it was just a charade for the upper echelons watching. Once you were low enough, Dominique smirked at you and whispered

"So... Fortissimo eh~?"

You stood up and cleared your throat "I don't know what you're talking about,"

"Come now! I know that possessive instinct when I see it," She leant in and whispered, "You have taken fancy to that human haven't you?"

You opened your mouth to respond but couldn't find anything reasonable to say. After a moment’s pause you settled on "He's just an information broker..."

"He's your information broker," Dominique teased, elbowing you with a laugh "More power to you! I think you make quite the pair!"

"Thank you, Domi...~"

"Don't mention it. Now I should get going before Veronika throws a fit. See you later!"

The youngest Du Sade was the last of the guests to leave and you were glad of it. Her energy gave you the push you needed to haul yourself back up to your room. Mingling was exhausting! As nice as it had initially seemed to be the centre of attention, after the first five dances the people begin to fall into a routine. You could predict exactly how the conversation was going to go by watching the way they approached you.

A charming smile gave way to a simple "What a wonderful party?"

Followed by a wry "It's unusual for Marquis Machina to sponsor anyone"

And promptly afterwards "Tell me Du Frois, what treasures does your home hold,"

Or perhaps "Might we spend more time together away from the crowd?" If they were brazen enough.

And so on and so forth. Vultures... High society was naught but vultures.

The dhampir trio and their faux dham compatriot made their way across the barrier and into the city. Once they had taken their sup, it was simple enough to link arms with Roland and haul him across. Much simpler than hauling him across in an oaken crate at least.

The gatekeeper nodded to them and raised his pipe as they passed.

"We're back..." Roland mused, stretching, and flexing his hands. The air here was different than he remembered, dense, and weighted in a way that made his ears ring.

"What, you forgot this place already?" Johann chuckled.

"It's not that. It's just that this place feels... different,"

Things in Paris were indeed different. Roland wasn't nearly close enough to the source of the trouble to know this, but standing stop L'arc du Triumph stood a pied Piper with a vicious mission. His song shook the world formula with a cadence in time. It was fortunate that Dante could feel it with his sharp ears early enough to hold his ground. but that wasn’t to say the dham wasn’t affected. He could feel it within him, the war going on inside himself. His vampire nature craved violence but his human side was screaming for him to get out.

"This is good for you right?" He said coolly, hands in his pockets. With every word he battled within himself, cneeding everything and nothing at the same time "W-we'll leave you to it,"

‘Something was wrong. I can’t put my finger on it... but something is going on,’ Roland thought. Dante's shoulders were tight and his tone was cold, colder than usual. And that quiver in his lip was disconcerting to say the least.

He chose not to question it. "You have my thanks. Get to safety, I will handle things from here,"

In the seconds it took for Roland to extend his reach forward, the wind shifted. A familiar bloodlust caught the air. Had the Jasper not switched from handshake to palm-heel strike and thrust Johann aside, Louisette would have stolen his hand that day.

"Dhampir filth!" The Garnet hissed, venom and malice rife in his tone.

"Astolfo?!" Roland said "What are you doing here?"

"I should be asking you the same thing! All parties are being mobilised to the city and here I find you fraternising with the cud?!" He lowered his stance, not once looking at Roland in his gambit to claim more heads. "They’ve brainwashed you, haven’t they? Filthy scourge..."

"We... W-we haven't done anything!" Risu pleaded.

A fatal mistake. For Astolfo was not a man who would listen to reason. He was a boy marred by a cruel past, the shadow of which followed him to this day. Anyone, anything remotely proximate to a vampire was a threat, and threats were to be annihilated unceremoniously. Even Risu, gentile and sweet as she was, was a monster in his eyes. So, he struck forth in an attempt to strike that monster down.

"I don't want to hear that from a blood sucking neophyte!" He punctuated his sentence with a cleave that stole sections of cambric and cilium.

"Astolfo!" Roland intercepted his path, giving the dhams a second to break away. As their feet pattered away, he waxed lyrical "There's no time for this, we must rejoin the battle! Where's Durandal?"

Astolfo's lip twitched in frustration. If he had fangs to bare, they would have been on full display. As much as he knew Roland was right, he wanted nothing more than to cull the dhampirs right where they stood.

With a groan he conceded "Olivier had your equipment brought up to the cathedral. He knew you’d be late, like you always are..."

"Then let's move out." Roland started for the street, striking a pace that demanded the garnet's full attention. He didn't look behind him to wave goodbye. There was no room for sentimentality. After all, the streets of Paris were a battlefield now...

Once back inside your room, you began to pull and pluck at the hair pins and lace straps that held you together. How Rivi had gotten you into this get up so easily you didn't know but you desperately wanted out of it. One by one the pins in your hair came loose and your scalp sang for freedom as the extensions took humble residence in the floor. You groaned in relief, rubbing your fingers to your tender scalp. Hopefully, you could convince Rivi that you wouldn't need such a complex rig next time.

Almost as soon as the thought occurred to you, she entered the room, bowing neatly at the door and making her way to your side. She began fixing your clothes without a word. Her fingers were deft and her hands were fast. A little faster than you were used to. Admittedly it troubled you, so you raised the worry. Rivi promptly dismissed it as concern for you getting some rest.

“It has been an eventful evening,” She avoided your eyes “I only wish for you to rest, Young Master...”

‘She’s lying,' You thought, 'clearly lying’

It didn't take long for you to squeeze her for the truth. To find out that Roland had taken off back to Vieux Paris to deal with the bone flute. You felt your blood pressure rising as she told the tale, and almost instantly you were out of your seat and marching through the halls.

"Young Master, wait!" Rivi called from behind you, frantically trying to keep up "You can't go, it's not safe!"

"That doesn't matter!" You flung open the door to the music room and snatched up the journal "I may be the only one who knows what he’s dealing with! I’m the only one who could save him now,"

The absent minded slip didn't go past your handmaid. She has every suspicion but that confirmed it. Until now, the human had been foolish and bumbling. But now Rivi saw that he had woven into your heart in a way that nobody could change now.

"Very well Young Master, I shall prepare your chariot,"

The night air was cold as Louisette laid waste to yet another lost soul. Curse bearers ran amok in the city of Paris that night and the Chasseurs were at full capacity. Astolfo was not careful as he took of their heads. Years and years fighting for the church had honed in him a skill and reckless precision in his craft. All he wanted to watch them suffer, see their innards scattered across the pavement. After all, that was all vampire trash was good for.

Within the cathedral, Roland stripped down. He'd been trained to work quickly, to fix his uniform in seconds, but that night it felt like he couldn't quite do it fast enough. His chasseur uniform was laden with buttons and laces, latches and straps, and the longer he took muddling around with each one the louder the screams outside seemed to get. The vampires were many tonight and they were coming in thick and fast. Astolofo may have been a captain but he was still young. He would attack with vigour and tire quickly and miss steps in the karta. As the jasper stamped on his boots and double knotted his laces he dreaded to think of the state he'd left his son in.

'Faster,' He commanded himself, dragging the jacket over his broad shoulders. His fingers worked deftly, not missing a single button 'Your team is fighting without you!'

 His gauntlets tugged on, a little worn and aged but still fit for use. Clapping his palm heels against each together was unorthodox but he learned in his youth that it was the fastest way to don them. Sweat had released his curls from their slick gel confines. The old clothes were folded in seconds and set in a drawer. Durandal was last, practically leaping into his palm as he drew towards the exit.

"We meet again, old friend..." He whispered, steeling himself for a moment in prayer before the large wooden door "Let El Shaddai be our strength in this battle."

He tore out of the building and surveyed the situation. Astolofo's killing spree was ongoing, but he had slowed as expected. There were three vampires surrounding him and one in the thrush not too far off. Without even thinking, Roland was on it. Injected, charging, cleaving through them in one fell swoop.

"I'm sorry I'm late!" He grinned over his shoulder. "Are you alright?"

That stupid grin. That ridiculously joyful gleam. Astolfo gritted his teeth, far too frustrated with losing his kill to say anything other than "I had it under control!

"You did? My mistake!" Roland retracted Durandal and scoured the city scape. "That seems to be all for this district,"

"That's unfortunate, I was just getting started," Louisette careened through the air with a swift sweep, shedding the blood of the final kill of the night. Astolfo sighed "Pesky fiends, there sure is a lot of them tonight,"

Roland furrowed his brow, a shift in the wind drawing his attention "Something tells me there may be more..."

A devilish smile poured into Astolfo's lips. "The more the merrier~"

They readied their weapons, listening to the air carefully. Faintly in the distance there was the steadlily approaching crunch of foot against cobblestone. One moment Roland was scouring for the source, and the next he was being thrust through layers and layers of tree trunk. The air was punched out by a shoulder to his sternum. He growled, forcing himself the grip the fading floor beneath him and grasp at his weapon. It was only when he noticed the lack of ravenous claws and only happy purring upon his chest that he realised who it was.

 "______?" He coughed as he crashed through later and layers of tree bark

 "Roland! I'm so glad you're alright," You held him bone crushingly tight

 "Chérie? What are you doing here? It's dangerous!"

"Which is precisely why I'm here. I can help you!" You shuffled around in the back pocket of your bas case to pull out your grandfather's journal. "We don’t have much time. But this book is-"

 "Sir Roland! What happened?!"

You looked over your shoulders to see the pink haired young man looking over in suprise. He was of a frail build, much frailer than you'd expect of a Chasseur, and his uniform was painted with blood spatters here and there.

He stared on at you in surprise. "Who might this be, Sir?"

Roland held you into his chest. Your fangs, he couldn't run the risk of Astolfo seeing your fangs "I have things under control. This passerby seems to have gotten caught up in all the chaos so I'll be escorting her home now,"

Astolfo narrowed his eyes sceptically. His blade was far too clean and there was no corpse nearby for that to be true. "Is that right?

 Roland nodded. He had to shift the topic, and fast, or he wouldn’t hear the end of this. He softened his tone with paternal ease "Now Astolfo, will you be able to handle things on your own whilst I get this one to safety? I shouldn’t be long."

 "Of course I will!" His offence overtook his rationale. How dare this lummox assume he couldn’t handle a few measly pests! He fixed his weapon in his palm before turning to make his escape "More vampire scum for me...~"

You both watched as he tore off through the forest, a fading pink blip in the distance. You sighed with relief. The bloodlust from that child was immeasurable, it was all you could do to stop shaking. He would have cut you down without any hesitation.

 "Now then, about this book," Roland pulled away from you. You wished he would hold you longer but there was work to be done.

You flipped open to the relevant pages. "That bone flute you harvested is a world formula shifting instrument. It's cursed melody can turn vampires into humans and humans into vampires in seconds, augmenting the world formula of anyone or anything close enough,”

"Just like Babel..." Roland mused

"Exactly. When played on its own it's nothing but a trigger for malnomens, but when played with my instrument-" You bounced the bass on your back "-There's control, amplification even. I don't understand how all the details but without a duet tonight, Paris will be thick curses,"

Roland nodded, the beginnings of a plan starting to formulate in his mind already “What do you need?”

“We need to get to the source, and fast,” You look towards the burning lights of the city “I can’t protect myself and carry this thing at the same time,”

“Then I’ll be your arms and eyes,” He fixed his stance and poised for battle “You focus on getting to the flute. I’ll focus on keeping you safe,”

Your heart fluttered at his words. A rush of warmth, of safety passed over you. This would work. It had to.

Chapter Text

Jean-Pierre Vergier was what one would describe as a parachute child.  

He was the fifth of heir of the Vergier wine company with connections in almost every industry one could imagine and a budding medical career to boot. He didn’t necessarily need to run his great-great-grandfather’s company. It ran itself. He simply benefitted from the thousands of dividends and free time that resulted from it. He had, in his youth, dreams of becoming a musician. But his mother was adamant that music was no way to make a living outside; being heir to House Vergier was his main responsibility.  

Every heir of House Vergier had their spouse chosen for them. Jean-Pierre knew this. He didn’t know until it happened, however, that his wife would be the same wife of his father and his before him. After all, he’d never met the woman. And she certainly wasn’t his mother. This woman, Belladonna (or Beatrice as she liked to be called), had taken amnesty under the wing of the Vergier house. In exchange for shelter and as much as astermite as the house needed to power its machines, she received human cover.   

“My husband is waiting,” she could say as she pleased. And there would be no love in it. All she needed was the protection and the resources. Many vampires were displaced in the wake of the human/vampire war. Everybody needed some way to survive. What she did when she was away from the house was of no concern to Jean-Pierre. So long as the terms of their union were met and their bedrooms were separate, he cared not.   

They had everything a married couple would need. Rings, wedding photos, a dinner set gifted by a doting relative and a house with so many bedrooms that nobody could tell whether they slept together or not. It only started to become a problem recently when the lady came in with a tattered piece of parchment.   

“And this is?” Jean-Pierre gripped his pipe in his teeth and flipped the paper back and forth.  

“You’re a musician, figure it out.” Was Belladonna’s curt reply.   

The sheet was aged, and the corners were withered. And on top of that...  

“Is this written in tenor clef? I don’t know how to read that,”  

“Jean-Pierre,” Her eyes glowed harshly, impatience and bloodlust echoing in her retinas “Don’t ask questions. Work .”  

It was always like that between the two of them. Even now as the flutist stood overlooking the city and the chaos he had caused, he hardly had a choice in the matter. He used to come to the roof of L’Arc Du Triumph with his mother as a child to watch the aeroplanes fly. The clouds of smoke and colour gave him hope. Now here he stood as an adult with a song at his fingertips that eradicated that joy from the French argot. The only reason he went through with it was because if he didn’t, she would drain him of whatever blood was left in his veins. Jean-Pierre was indifferent to it all by now. He had his money. He had his career. Aside from that, he was a pawn in this game started long before he was a concept. He was alive, yes, but he wasn’t really living.  

“This is what I like to see...!” The door to the roof swung open as his ‘wife’ stepped through, grinning with glee. “I’m impressed Pierre, you’re good for something after all,”  

Jean-Pierre didn’t respond. He bit down everything he wanted to say by pressing the cold handkerchief to his swelling lips.   

“How many are there?”  

He set flute aside and flipped the sheet music nonchalantly   

“Speak!”  

“What do you want, Belladonna?” He made no effort to hide his frustration “Shouldn’t you be hunting your quarry?”  

“Shouldn’t you be making my curse?!”  

“Look around, they are good as made! As sweet as it is that you are wanting to spend time with me, wife, I find your priorities in need of some assistance,”  

“And I find your incessant yapping to be intolerable, yet here we are.” She growled as she loomed over him. Jean-Pierre remained unbothered. He knew she wouldn’t do anything. Not now anyway. She needed his musical skill, even if she wouldn’t admit it. “How. Many. Are there?”  

“Enough,” He rolled his eyes, pulling away the cool compress. His swollen lips cried for comfort as he did so “I can’t give exact numbers, but the screams should tell you more than enough,”  

“Then rally them and count. I can’t be expected to claim Altis with unclear staffing,” She huffed  

“Belladonna, we’ve been over this,” his response came as incredulous “I can't control the fiends. Not without the quarry.”  

Belladonna’s eyebrow twitched. Her frustrations bubbled to the surface as she snatched the bone flute and tossed it over the edge.   

“Hey!” The doctor reached out to snatch it but couldn’t react nearly fast enough to stop her. He scratched at his hair and grumbled  “Do you know the lengths I went to in order to attain that thing?! It’s a priceless artifact!”  

“And yet it’s useless! What good are malnomens if I cannot control them!?”  

“You’re being impatient! If you would just bring me the quarry, then that instrument of theirs would-”  

“Bring you the quarry?” Belladonna scoffed, grabbing him up by the neck. Her nails pierced through his skin “In case you forgot let me remind you that it is my quarry, this is my plan, and it will be me who ascends to high society! You are my pawn, you are dispensable!”  

“Belladonna...!” He choked out, flailing as the floor was stolen from beneath his feet “Be reasonable...!”   

“Reasonable!? I have been reasonable for 400 years! I want my army; I want my castle! And I will not have an ill-mannered mongrel stand in my way!” She lugged his body up and held it over the edge. The gent struggled to hold him into her arm “But fine, you want me to be reasonable? I can do that. In fact, I’ll even give you a chance to prove yourself.” She lugged him over the edge of L’Arc Du Triumph, letting the wind whip through his thin dark hair “If you’re so convinced that bone flute will save you, retrieve it and prove it. If you can do that, I’ll reward you greatly,”  

“You expect me to thank you...?”  

“No, I expect you to get the job done,” she hissed and without a care let gravity take his body towards its peril.  

Running through the streets with a human-sized instrument on your back was a trial, especially with curse-barers gunning for you. Luckily, Roland and Durandal were at your side. You followed closely behind keeping as tight of a distance as you could manage whilst encumbered.   

“Is this the right way?” Roland asked as you paused at a junction  

You couldn’t quite find it in you to respond. Your throat was drying up and your ears were beginning to ring. Was it the wine from the party? No, it was a melody. A distant melody that was stirring you up inside. You felt your mind reach the peak of it’s formulaic capabilities and overflow. You clutched onto your stomach, head spinning, eyes burning, innards churning up and out of your mouth, becoming yolk-like bile on the floor.  

“Chérie?” He stopped running when he realised you had fallen behind and rushed back to your side as the curse-barers began their approach again. He helped you up“Are you alright? Come on, we’re nearly there,”  

“The world formula is...!” You choked, gripping onto his shoulders “My mind is splitting..!”  

“Can you continue?”  

“I must,” You said biting hard into your cheek. The pain would clear the fog in your mind “If not me, who else?”  

Roland hardened his eyes. He couldn’t be enamoured by your perseverance now, he had to be a captain. He hated seeing you like this. But if you were willing to push through it for your people, he wouldn’t stop you. With your arm over his shoulder and his about your waist he continued "Then let’s press on. Which way?”  

“Left here,” You said, picking up your feet again.   

His eyes hardened and began charging deeper and deeper towards the centre of the city until eventually you neared L’Arc Du Triumph.  

“This is it.” He set you down. “What do you need?”  

“I have an astermite core here, we need to tether it to the sirens” You explained  

Before he could respond, Roland paused. The streets had been reasonably quiet until recently but as the sound of the flute got louder so too did the growling and grimacing of the curse bearers. More and more of them poured in from all around, crying tears of rage and destruction. He readied for battle, splitting Durandal into thousands of claws and spines .   

“Don’t hurt them!” You pleaded before he could launch his attack “They may well be human!”  

“What?!” He leapt toward you, lassoing a heretic into a wall. He grimaced at the plethora of leering red eyes in the shadows “Those things are human?!”  

“They are not things, they are people!” You clutched at your case straps, nervous of the teeth glimmering in the distance. “Surely you have something in your pack that’s less destructive?!”  

“If you ask, mon amour-” He punctuated his sentence with a toss of an Aegis, clutching you into his chest “I can hardly say no~”  

He held you firm as the grenade went off with a blinding light like the sun. The stun wouldn’t affect him, but in your state, you were likely to pass out. He eased his grip when the light died down and gave you a proud grin.   

“Would this do?”  

“C’est magnifique~” You smiled impressed.  

From your vantage point over his shoulder, you could see another fiend emerge from the shadows. It must have just missed the Aegis light. It didn’t matter. You quickly spun around him and stamped out a wave of frost into the ground. It caught the malnomen’s feet before it could leap and sent it sliding out of control across the pavement.   

“I say, Chérie~” Roland applauded a little “I didn’t know you could do such a thing!”  

“Nor did I until recently,” You beamed “Couldn’t let you have all the glory now could I~?”  

“How touching!” The thick scent of rosemary caught the air. Your spine went rigid “The chasseur has brought back my quarry! Very kind of you~”  

Roland cast his mind back to the picture he saw at Rouen and frowned. “You’re the Vergier wife...”  

Belladonna spat at the name “You may call me Madame Beatrice. And you can deliver that Marquis into my hands like a good little soldier,”  

“My duty is to protect from evil, and by the grace of God it shall be so,” Durandal hissed into position “I would you advise to stand down whilst you still have the chance.”  

Belladonna cast her eyes towards you. You scowled back, settling behind Roland’s defence.   

How insolent. You had the audacity to go against her like this just when her plan was going so well! It must have been spite. Just like your grandfather... He’d sabotaged her rise in high society too, scorned her and wouldn’t even take her for a mistress. And now here you were, after she’d graciously raised you from gravel, choosing someone else yet again!  

“You...” Her breathing became tense and frantic “you heathen!!!!”  

“Get to the Tannoy!” Roland cried, crashing into her claws with his dual blades   

“But Rol-”  

“GO!”  

As his blade grated between Beatrice’s sharp nails you took off, gathering all your remaining strength to power out of the shadows and the Tannoy.   

“GET BACK HERE!” You could hear the lady screeching behind you. You didn’t dare turn to see her. The venom in her voice was so strong that you were certain the mere sight of her would shock you into silence. Besides;  

“Where is your focus, Madam Vergier?! Your opponent stands before you!”   

Roland could handle her.   

The Chasseurs Tannoys were scattered around the city but hidden from public view. On a date with Roland some time ago, he’d let the secret slip.  

“They’re everywhere actually, all across our patrol routes!” He had said as you paused your book-exchange-date. You were in the middle of discussing whether a spy’s secret hideouts were really hidden in plain sight when he began to expound “Of course there are some in the churches, but a good rule of thumb is if you see a telephone box, there should be a Tannoy within 20 feet! Wherever you find a door with a lion's emblem on it, you’ll find a Tannoy there too. So, if you ever run into trouble, just knock seven times!”  

You tore through Champs-Elysees with one objective in mind, find the lion. But every door you found, every alley you checked, every telephone box lead to normal doors. That was until it caught your eye. A battered telephone box, torn from its grounding and left on its side on the street. Its trajectory pointed towards a door astride Arc de Triumphe with a delicate metallic tapestry around the handle. One that depicted a roaring lion ready to strike. You heaved a sigh of relief, clambering over the dismembered red box and knocking against the door.   

“Hello?!” You plead “Is anybody there?!”  

But the call yielded no reply. Perhaps you didn’t knock right? You tried again, counting aloud.  

“One, two, three, four, five, six, seven...!” You bit your lip anxiously “Hello?!”  

You were far enough from Beatrice to not see her battle with Roland, but the clanks and occasional grunts from the battle clung to the air when they rose. That and the occasional bloodcurdling scream that came from the distance sent chills under your skin.  

You had to stop this.  

You had to stop this!  

You banged and banged at the door, panic rising within you. Eventually you did begin to attract attention. Unsavoury attention.   

You had been so wrapped up in the summons, so focused on breaking in that the nearing growls and hungry eyes didn’t even cross your mind. From the shadows around you curse bearers began to loom closer, ravenous for blood they were drawn to the panic on your voice and the scent of sweat on the air. Before you had to chance to react, they leapt towards you. One chomping onto your arm and another gnawing into your leg.   

Had the raging mechanical blades not roared up and torn straight through them, you might have bled out on the spot. You focused your energy on standing, trying not to scream for your life as Hauteclare tore through the meat and bones of the curse bearers. Olivier was not shy when it came to the mess made in the war against apostates. If it meant saving a life, he would hack and slash mercilessly.   

“You’re alright,” He said, prying the cold jaws from around your limbs and tossing the dismembered heads aside. Your legs gave out with the sudden lack of pressure. Olivier was quick to take your weight, even if it was difficult to place his hands around you. As you fought for breath in his arms he registered your face, eyes widening in shock “You were with Roland in the catacombs...!”  

“T... the tannoy,” You did your best to breathe and focusing your frost on the puncture wounds. If you could seal it over just enough, you could prevent bleeding out, but your mind was clouded with the pain. “I must get to the tannoy,”  

The Obsidian narrowed his eyes suspiciously “How do you know about those?”   

“There’s no time... please. I must get to the tannoy, I can fix this...!”  

He considered rebutting your statement but there were more heretics on the way. He quickly sized up the bunker options of the high street. Most of the shops here had glass windows, that wouldn’t do at all. A vampire could go through single pane glass like tissue paper. Of course there was the patrol room, but that space was for chasseur use only. Against his better judgement, he started for it. It would be the safest place for you, even if your obsession with the tannoy within was suspicious. He could make that decision as a captain and justify it later. It would be harder to justify sending an encumbered civilian to find their own shelter amid an epidemic.   

“Didn’t you hear the evacuation call? You should be indoors.” He asked as he led you towards the door. He held the cross shaped pendant around his neck toward the engraved lion and the latch clicked open.   

It was in the moment he was trying to hurry you indoors that he realised the troublesome nature of the instrument on your back. It was a team effort to contort and bend and twist at the right angle to get you into the room without battering the bass against the mantle.   

“And this thing on your back? This is life and death, you’re practically begging to get stalked by a heretic when you’re dressed like that.”   

You lugged the instrument off your back, hardly replying to him as you rifled through the paper storage compartment on the case.  

The Obsidian’s lecture continued “You can stay here for now; I’ll come and get you when this is all over. Just try not to touch anything until then.”  

“Olivier... that is your name, isn’t it?” You drew out your bow, not even bothering to apply the rosin or tighten the hairs sufficiently. “These vampires... they’re not doing this out of malice.”  

“Are you kidding me?” He scoffed “This is clearly a planned assault, the vampires have been waiting for their chance to destroy us!”  

“You're wrong,” You flipped open the book, propping it up on a barren desk “There is more to this. Far more to this than you could understand or imagine...”  

Oliver scanned his eyes over the pages of the book. The language was oldened French, not the modern style they spoke from day to day. And the picture in the centre... it was scrawled and smudged in old charcoal, but the descriptions and the image were most definitely of the bone stolen flute.  

“What is this...” His voice faltered as he began to flip through the pages. Everything was there. All the weeks that they had spent going through the archives, trying to identify any literature regarding the cursed item they held within their walls was here. The use, the origin, the music, the astermite core design that matched perfectly with the one upon your bow and bass... his jaw tightened. “Why do you have this?!”  

You peeled the soft shell from around your bass. Olivier quickly fell instep, helping you pry it from within the case and standing it upright. As you reached to take it from his hands, he held it back.  

“I want answers.” He demanded  

“So do I.” You replied.   

He held it ransom by the neck, strangling the strings and eyeing you down. You cast the case aside, returning the hard look. A total stalemate. Neither of you quite trusted or understood the other. Even as claws and teeth began to gnash at the door outside you held one another's gaze.   

“Lend me the Tannoy,” You offered “Let me aid you in this fight,”  

“...Fine. But this does not make us allies.” He leered in towards you.  

You nodded. And with a slick exchange, your bass was in hand and Olivier was out of the door.   

The Tannoy system itself took up the entire room. Through the initial porch way was an open space just large enough for the tables and chairs within it. There was a small bathroom and an even smaller supply cupboard. There was barely enough space for you to manoeuvre around the place with your instrument and a small perch for you to seat the journal. The walls were completely covered in gramophone like pipes and buttons littered the table. If Roland were here, he could probably tell you all the ins and outs. Nothing here was labelled and with no one here to guide you the task seemed impossible. Faders and dials, switches and plugs, mechanics and astermite were sprawled all over the place.   

You thought hard over everything you had seen and heard thus far. Aside from how to find it, Roland didn’t tell you much about this place. The only other thing you knew was that Olivier had to swipe his necklace in order to gain access to the room. It made you think that maybe, just maybe, you could achieve a similar thing with your astermite core. The core itself, eerily cosmic, sat decoratively within the frog of your bow. Holding it tight, you began to waft it around the dials and pipes of the tannoy technology. It felt strange, and a little aimless, but you waved it around the until you heard something click. A small light glowed green in the distance, slowly acclimatising to the icy blue that was now singing from the core on your bow.  

“This is it,” You told yourself. Whatever happened next would sound throughout the streets of Paris. You set up the music and settled behind your instrument. You checked your tuning and then began to count yourself in:   

“L’insolement. One, two, three, four, five. Two, two, three, four, five...”    

Chapter Text

“How touching! The chasseur has brought my quarry! Very kind of you~”

Roland noticed how you froze in his arms long before he had processed the words the mistress said to him. The lady was tall and seemingly out of sorts, her clothes once prim and pristine were worn and torn and the smile that poured into her lips was diabolically wide. But he recognised her just as she recognised him. She was unnervingly familiar.

“You’re from the ball, and you’re the Vergier wife...” He thought aloud, releasing you gently from his grip. The look on her face didn’t fill him with any comfort.

“You may call me Madame Beatrice ,” She eyed him down before vaguely gesturing to the musician at his side “And you can deliver that Marquis into my hands like a good little soldier,”

Squaring his shoulders, Roland took his stance. He had held back in Altis to protect his cover, but this was Vieux – there were no facades to uphold now. His only duty was as a warrior of the church and he would uphold it without reservation.

“My duty is to protect and by God’s will, it shall be so. I would advise you to stand down whilst you still have the chance.”

Beside him, he could feel you straighten, sense the confidence and power that began to pulse in your veins at the sound of his support. He could feel himself smiling then, eager to fight for you, hungry for combat.

“You...” Beatrice’s breathing began to pick up, her shoulders stiffening as she lunged forth to strike. “You heathen!!!!”

One did not become a chasseur paladin by chance. It took years of training, hours and hours of gruelling trials to hone the huntsman's gaze. When Beatrice began to rage, Roland could count her heart rate, he could anticipate the incoming strike. It was little things- the hairs on her neck standing on end, the tension in her claws as her breath shifted- but Roland perceived it and before she could come close he was crashing his dual blades into her to block her strike.

“Get to the Tannoy!” He cried as they collided.

Your eyes flickered between the two of them “But you’re just-”

“GO!”

He held the mistress in a deadlock, unfaltering until he was sure your footsteps were nearing to silence.

“Get back here!” Beatrice screamed, fangs and serpents tongue flailing wildly.

In that second her attention was split, the Jasper parried and sent her skidding backwards across the pavement. He couldn’t help it; he began to grin fiendishly. Fighting for his lover? The sound of durandal chittering with ludus, agape and pragma. Truly there was no better feeling on this earth!

“Where is your focus, Mrs Vergier?!” He jeered, brandishing his blades “Your opponent stands before you!”

Regaining her footing against the ever escaping stone floor, Beatrice gathered her breath. The sheer quantity of hindrances to her plan were beginning to grate on her sanity. With a single talon she shredded a slit into her skirt for mobility and started for Roland, angling toward him with an intention to kill. Roland was no stranger to this kind of attack, the untrained frenzy from someone eager to end his life. What he wasn’t prepared for was the sheer strength that was behind it. He wove and ducked between her assaults before she caught Durandal's tip in her palm. Its teeth began to gnaw into her flesh, but that didn’t seem to bother her. She wrenched Roland from the floor, flinging his body straight into a carved bench. The crunch that resounded out was indescribable.

“You want my attention?” She growled, using his dedicated grip on Durandal to beat him into the ground over and over. “I’ll give you my attention!”

Petals, stones, stems and soil were set off with every slam. Roland gagged as his body rag-dolled back and forth. He steeled his resolve, biting down, not giving her the satisfaction of hearing him scream. She would tire soon enough, and when she did, that is when he would strike. She was monologuing, he thought as he tried to focus his attention on her. Probably spouting unholy insults and laying out her plan in black and white.

‘Good,’ He thought to himself, ‘If she's focusing her efforts here, then ______ can reach the tannoy.’

When she finally gave up and set him down, panting and huffing the shock began to set it. His injections were wearing off. Had he even used one in the first place? He would need one to finish this fight, but to use it he’d need an opening. He took a moment to still his breathing, force his heart rate down and see, really see the battlefield...

Cursebarers.

There were a few drawings nearer, although not nearly close enough to make a difference yet. They’d done more than enough damage to this place to cost the crown an arm and a leg in repairs but at least the water fountain was functional. He could use that later. But first, he needed her off guard. She was still gripping Durandal tightly at full extension. The mechanics were sound enough to take a little manhandling and the electric charge still seemed to be in place.

With the plan set in his mind, he began to retract the blade. Those teeth of Durandals were no joke, he’d gotten himself caught on them in the early days of training and it took Olivier and the nurse to unhook him, so he knew full well that when he recalled the vertebrae Beatrice would come right along with it. She wouldn’t get off without tearing her hand apart and even if she didn’t he had a nasty little surprise waiting.

As her feet tangled beneath her, The Jasper emptied the syringe into his throat and then promptly thrust it into Beatrice’s chest. A rush of strength surged through him as she howled in pain.

Roland grimaced. He had hoped to have pierced her heart with the strike at least, but the cushion of her bust prevented it. “I’ll give you one more chance to stand down, Belladonna. I don’t make a habit of duelling with ladies.”

“Ladies?!” The remark was met with a cackle and talons digging deep into his shoulder “Don’t insult me, child, I am your worst nightmare...!”

The two began to grapple. Locked in a tight stalemate with seemingly no escape, they gripped and grunted as they wrestled over inches in Jardin Champs-Elysees.

“You humans are so impudent, you sincerely believe that your existence on this earth is your birthright – that you have some corrupt sense of dominion over this earth!” She loomed over him, fangs bared fully as she spoke. “You are vermin, every last one of you!”

“You’re wrong. We are the stewards of the earth, and we chasseurs are the indestructible blades that fight for its survival,” Roland gritted his teeth, forcing the needle further and further into her until the glass shattered beneath his metal palms “You are not the first to trifle with Paris, and you certainly won’t be the last...!”

The blood that leaked from the legions on his shoulder was beginning to soak through his uniform, leaving defined, dark red, sticky patches around his tense muscles. The scent was pungent, tainted by the stimulant racing through his blood. Cursebarers from beyond the green loomed closer, drawn by the scent. If he hadn’t been so focused on Beatrice he might have stopped them before they latched their fangs into him. He groaned in pain, feeling fangs and tongues deep inside his calf and side.

A venomously smile and Beatrice tossed back her head for a sadistic laugh. The pathetic determination on this human's face was delicious. The way his knees shook as he fought to stand, the sheer indignance as he glared at the angel of death on her shoulder, the pure and holy sense of justice that so feebly held him together was nothing short of ridiculous. It would be so delicious to watch him crumble.

“You know chasseur, you have inspired me.” Lowering her weight just enough she swung round and flung his body through the pure stone fountain. The blood that hacked from his mouth was washed away in the overflow “I think I would very much like to be the final threat to trifle with Paris. At the very least, I’ll be yours~”

Roland’s vision was a blur. As he pushed up out of the mound of shard stone, malnomens and spray he could just make out her silhouette sauntering through the shower. Her feet still strode in a perfect line despite her broken heels and the blood stains on her chest were almost stylish.

He hissed a little, catching his breath as he looked up at her casually. Somehow, despite all of that his chest began to vibrate with laughter. “I take it back, you are quite the opponent Madame Vergier.”

She raised a confused eyebrow, watching as he supported his weight behind him on his forearms. “You’re laughing. Why are you laughing? Aren’t you in pain?”

“Oh yes, quite a bit!” He swept his soaked locks away from his eye, watching as the tiny metal cube he’d planted on impact slowly began to flame “I’m just thinking how convenient this is. The weapons team had asked me a long time ago to test these Sodium Bombs and I finally have the chance to test them!”

Beatrice scoffed,“If you want those to be your last words, so be it.”

“Don’t you worry,” He smirked, swiftly hoisting one of the curse-bearers in front of him before the impending explosion “They won’t be~”

The world was spinning. The sky was red and sound was a distant concept. As Jean-Pierre stirred, he could just about make out some clashing figures in the distance. From where he lay in the hay bale, it all seemed aimless. The chasseurs could fight Beatrice and potentially even defeat her, but there were so many malnomens in Paris that humanity was on the verge of extinction.

He heaved out a heavy breath and looked up to the sky. What a miserable existence he had lived. From beginning to end, a slave to the whims of those who came before him. If a cursebearer came and took his head that very night, he wouldn’t have bothered to fight it. The clashing of metal and the depressing lilt of woeful screams all blended out into white noise. And he didn’t dare add to them. There would be no point. After all, no one would hear him or attend to his cry.

Just as he closed his eyes and prepared for his final wishes a strange song began. It crept up slowly, like a falcon slowly swooping in closer and closer until eventually he could hear it louder than anything else. The song held the scratchy, metallic ringing of being played through an aged speaker. The hypnotically enticing five-beat-bar that chorused through was just as sad as it was beautiful. The song screamed solitude, and his heart yearned for the source.

“Why...?” He thought to himself, peeling his battered body from within the abandoned food cart “Why do my fingers itch...? Why do my bones yearn for this song?”

He found himself lugging the overturned carts aside, wading through old fruits and broken baskets until within his hands again he felt the familiar cold of the bone flute. This thing that was nothing but a burden seemed to crave his touch as much as he craved this song. A carnal, deep seeded desire that he couldn’t quite place that made his heart race and his body shake...

Music .

That accursed tune...

He knew it somewhere in his heart and he played it. Step by step as he drew closer to the source he played that song and he played it proudly. The curse bearers and chasseurs at war around him didn't exist. When he played he didn’t feel pain or notice the broken bones in his feet. All he knew was the music, all he needed was the duet, everything he needed in that moment was... was...!

“You...!” The vice grip around his ankle shook him from his trance “Where are my curse bearers?!”

His eyes fell to where Belladonna clawed into him. He swallowed, barely sounding out “T… the song…!” 

“What song?” Beatrice hissed, ears still ringing from the explosion. She hoisted herself up his body and gripped at the bone flute tightly, her dress and body now littered with stone shards “Use this stupid thing and fix it!”

“Belladonna!” Came Roland’s battle cry from across the gardens. He forced him to stand. He gritted his teeth, whipping Durandal forth with hungry fangs and razors. Beatrice leapt back, casting her "husband" aside. The blond gave a doggish grin, high from the power. “I told you already, didn’t I? Don’t give your attention to anyone but me. I am your opponent for the evening, and I am a very jealous man!”

“You Chasseurs have always been problematic!” Beatrice struck forth with her ever-growing claws. “The sooner I remove you all, the better!”

Roland was unaffected by the jibe but gritted his teeth anyway. Every move in the midst of this rush was hell although the adrenaline helped him to bear it. There could only be one victor to this war, and he would succeed no matter the cost. With a prayer he sent up a blinding pellet, letting off a piercing light that tore through the gardens.

Beatrice growled and buckled over. Unable to tell which way was up or down. In that moment of confusion Durundal encased around her like a long metal snake, slicing into her arms.

“I wouldn’t be so cocky Mrs Vergier,” He hissed, drawing it tight “You are hardly the strongest foe I’ve gone up against.”

“Why you- unhand me this instant!”

“Mmm, I don’t think I will~” Was his only response as with a push of a button electricity surged and volted through her leaving the promiscuous mistress nothing but a pile of crunching clothes and ash. He held his ground for a moment, gathering his breath before retracting his battle partner and rushing to Jean-Pierre’s side. “We meet again, Monsieur Vergier,”

“Monsieur Fortis…” He held onto the chasseurs arm to stand upright “How’s the work treating you,”

“Same as ever,” He replied casually before adding “We should get you to safety,”

At that moment, Jean-Pierre was presented with a choice. He could, of course, be escorted to safety and pretend like none of this ever happened. But unlike the rest of the insignificant occurrences of his life, it was likely that wouldn’t be possible. He could very well sleep that night and wake up and the epidemic would be purging Paris and beyond. But if he fought against it… if he put himself aside for just one more night, there was a chance, a sliver of hope that freedom might come with the rising sun.

Instead of yawning absentmindedly, the Vergier heir shook his head and started for the blackened pile nearby. “Actually, I would like for you to bring me to the source of that music.”

“The tannoy..?” Roland asked “It seems to be quite a popular destination tonight.”

“That song calls to me, to that flute of mine,” He knelt down to pick it up. “If I’m correct, it could be the key to ending this. I know it sounds strange and you may have trouble believing me but-“

“I believe you…” Roland smiled lightly. Vergier’s face filled with surprise “You need to play a duet, is that right? I will lead you to the tannoy. Chasseurs honour.”

Chapter Text

In the state Roland was in, it was more so Vergier leading him than the other way around. The two progressed side by side, both wounded and bruised from the battles that had befallen them. Thankfully due to the music coming from the tannoys, the curse bearers were otherwise occupied. There was nothing hindering their journey up Champs-Elysees. Unfortunately for Vergier, that meant a lot of empty space. Breathing room. He wasn’t unfamiliar with silence but sharing that silence with someone else was so foreign to him that it made him itch.

“Are you certain you’re alright walking...?” He said after a few steps “I ought to check you over.”

“Oh no, don’t worry about me. I’m right as rain!” Said the walking corpse “Besides, your main objective is to get to the tannoy, no? It may be peaceful now, but war is still rife elsewhere.”

“Right...” Jean-Pierre looked over the wounds and slashes on Roland's body. He definitely had broken some ribs and the limp he was playing off indicated a sprained ankle but he was behaving like nothing was wrong. 

Inadvertently, this was his fault. His call of song had caused the malnomens that started this war. All because he hadn’t been brave enough in the beginning. Perhaps if he hadn’t simply accepted everything at face value then-

“It’s alright you know,” Roland’s soft statement caught him off guard “You were deceived into this. I don’t suppose you intended for this outcome?”

Jean-Pierre cleared his throat dismissively “I have no clue what you’re talking about.”

“I’m simply supposing-” He went on “-That you only did as you were told with that flute of yours. And by that logic, perhaps if you were given the chance to do as your soul truly desired, you might have found purpose where destruction currently reigns.”

Vergier lowered his eyes for a moment. He’d been walking on the path set before him so long that he hardly even considered what he might do with what he had now if given the chance...

As he broiled in the concept, a fellow chasseur's ebony mane crested the horizon. Hauteclare hung by his side and his brows knitted with confusion as he watched the curse bearers listlessly wandering in a messy death spiral. Tens of them gathering into hundreds, plodding along one behind the other all trailing around the elevated siren speaker that squawked out your melodramatic tune.

“What in the world...” He muttered, biting back blasphemy as he tried to compute what he saw before him.

“Ah!” Roland chirped, bounding over “Olivier!” 

“Roland, what in the blazes am I looking at?” He turned around to see the mangled Jasper “And what in the blazes happened to you?!”

“Now, now, let's not worry about that!” He smiled, throwing his arm around his friend’s shoulder and instantly regretting it.

“I can’t make sense of it. These heretics are acting like… like…” He struggled with the words. He shook his head in disbelief “It’s unheard of!”

“It’s a miracle,” Vergier added, gripping the bone flute definitively in his hand. “A real miracle…”

“Monsieur Vergier?!” Olivier blinked in disbelief. Yet another civilian, and a great sponsor to their cause no less, was out in the midst of this crisis! Had all Paris lost its mind?!

Vergier gathered himself. He needn’t be intimidated by this tall and intimidatingly handsome warrior! He was a man too! A man who was ready to take his place in this fight!

“I… I’m here to help! The tannoy-“

“Urgh…!” Olivier kneaded gloved hands into his temples, groaning reluctantly. All he could manage was to wave his hand to dismiss him. He knew precisely what the next sentence would be, and didn’t care to live out the interaction a second time. It was like being surrounded by five Rolands all at once.

Vergier swallowed and nodded, gathering himself and scuttling off to the tannoy room. He knew what he had to do to make this right.

“I’m very surprised Olivier, I didn’t think you would be the sort to allow a civilian to do that sort of thing,”

“Your ch é rie did the same thing not 15 minutes ago...”

“Oh, really? I wonder why?”

“I think you do know why!”

“I do?”

“Bah… nevermind. I don’t have the patience for your foolishness…”

As Olivier seethed and Roland laughed off the tribulation, Monsieur Vergier made his way into the tannoy room. The door was rather dinged up from the combat prior so opening it was a little difficult. It grunted on its hinges as the metal scraped across the hard tile floor. The room was dark, yes, but the ethereal blue that rose from the active astermite gave a calming glow. Like azure fireflies dancing in the night. It was instantly apparent to Jean-Pierre that the tannoy system was doing nothing for the music you were truly playing. The song was packed with passion, desire and hope. The cold air in the room seemed to burn with your ardour in and around it.

“Wow...” Soft lights danced in the air, small soft angels that seemed to carry your sound deep into the night. But as he reached out to touch one...

“Who’s there?!” The lights died as you whipped around from where you stood. Your breath was short and your clothes clung tight to your skin with sweat.

“I’m sorry, I-I didn’t mean to interrupt you, I-I-I...”

Jean-Pierre hadn’t stammered since he was a child, but he couldn’t help himself. He hadn’t needed to present himself to someone aside from his patients in years. Yet here he was having to persuade and perform with an instrument that he only had his hands on for a few months in front of a musician with God-given talent. What’s more, he couldn’t help but feel that when he had met you back then he should have done something to save you from Beatrice’s grasp. If he had said something, if he had tried something- anything back then perhaps he wouldn’t be here presenting himself as a saviour when he really should have been grovelling for forgiveness.

“I just- the music was-”

“You have the bone flute...” You interrupted him absentmindedly, hurrying to set your instrument down. “You have the bone flute! Can you play it?”

“I- yes! Well, somewhat.” Said Jean-Pierre 

“Well is it a yes or a no?” You replied

“I… don’t read sheet music too well, I stopped practising a long time ago. But I want to- no- I know I can help. Just tell me what to do.”

Your brows tightened slightly. You couldn’t get too close to that thing without your body changing. Even now as you stood three metres away, the urge to tear this man to shreds was tickling at the back of your mind. It’s not like he could read sheet music anyway, so there really wasn’t any need for him to stand right beside you next to the microphone...

You chewed your lip in consideration for a minute, flipping through the journal. The curse bearers should have been docile if L’insolment had done its job. What you needed now was to cure the malnomens, which you certainly couldn’t do alone. You fingered through the transcription and the journal notes, settling on the sixth movement. 

“Can you perhaps play by ear...?”

“Y-yes!” Jean-Pierre seemed hopeful “I can play anything if I hear it once, and I can interpret too. That’s no problem.”

Quickly setting up your sheet music you returned to your station and set the bow in the quiver. It would be easier to sight read without it. “Alright, I’ll give it to you once. Then we’ll play together. There’s no metronome but-”

“We can feel out a pulse,” He offered, shuffling in closer. “Right?”

“You’ve got it,” A shiver ran up your spine.The carnal urges in your chest were being tugged the closer he stood. You only hoped you could hold it together whilst he learnt the piece. “ L’ espérance ... One, two, three, four. Two, two, three, four...”

Love is a strange thing. Its true meaning was lost over time through corruption and exaggeration. There are those who claim to know love, touting ideals of love in different forms. They claim that love is no one thing but can be divided into storge and agape and philia. There were those cruel souls who used the ambiguity surrounding love to manipulate, destroy and claim dominion over the naïve few. These are the ones who never knew love as God ordained it. These are the ones like Astolfo Granatum.

As cruel as it may have sounded, Young Astolfo never had the chance to learn real love. His view towards it was corrupted long before he solidified true love in his heart as a child. It became twisted, stirred up and marred by bloody justice. And nobody could do or say or show him anything to change that. He was a lost cause. A soul so bound to his hatred that it coursed through his body like oxygen in his veins.

On nights like tonight that was a good thing. Vampires at heretics came in thick and fast beneath the Eiffel Tower. A stack of cursed corpses lay on his right as a river of heretics flowed in from his left. A soulful sonnet or philtre. He and Louisette were hungry for blood. They were hungry for revenge and justice and passion. The silence that followed a heretic’s demise, the red oil that slipped through his hair. The crunch of Louisette at cleaving through their ribs; that was love. To Astolfo, his fraternal need to protect, to uphold the name of House Granatum and deliver Paris to freedom – that was love. And his love was unstoppable.

His legs could shut down and his eyes could go blind and the boy would find a way to strike and cleave and cleanse the streets of Paris for this was his home. And he couldn’t simply allow those demons to run rampant on his lands.

“Young Master!”

He stopped at the sound of Marco’s call, taking a moment to breathe, feel his heart pound in his chest and his throat dry up. He’d been going for hours at this point.

The butler scuttled over with a bottle of electrolyte which was snatched from his grasp. As the Garnet scarfed it down, Marco continued with a concerned look “It seems the battle is over, young master!”

“Over?!” Astolfo smashed the empty bottle onto the floor “It can’t possibly be over!”

“But it must be. Look around Master Astolfo, listen.” He cupped his palm around his ear and leant forward.

Astolfo was not patient and much preferred to strike first and ask questions later. But even he had to admit the onslaught of heretics had come down significantly. So he did indeed close his eyes and listen. He expected to hear screams, to hear fear and suffering but instead he heard… music. Passionate, machiavellian music that seemed desperate and strong. Like the song was fighting its own war.

“You see? Perhaps it is a sign, we have already won the victory—” Before Marco even had a chance to speak, Astolfo was off.

The local tannoy door wasn’t far. He had to wade through dismembered dissenters but they were like fallen leaves now. The garnet on his cross clicked the latch open and within seconds his eyes had found the purple flashing zone light for the broadcast location. That meant Olivier had entered the room. As frustrating as the codger was, he wasn’t a fool by any means.

“Hm,” He spun on his heels and started leaving just as Marco managed to tiptoe around the last rolling skull. “Hurry up, we’re leaving.”

“O-of course young master, but- erm- where exactly are we going?” He fixed his glasses

“Champs-Elysees,” He gripped Louisette tight. “I want to know what exactly is going on.”

“What in the blazes is going on?!”

As the melody stirred in the air so too did the malnomen that had been inflicted across the city of Paris. It accumulated in the air like a plague of locusts, amassing more and more of its scattered parts until the rondo wrapped up.

The chasseurs watched in shock as it grew, eyes flitting back and forth between the tannoy room and the curse bearer crowd. Within, you and Vergier were barely breathing, locked hard into the piece in front of you. Not even sweat rolled from your brows until the final note had echoed into silence.

You felt your chest rise and fall, heard Vergier roll his stiff shoulders. Then you exchanged a glance.

“I must say that seems to have worked out quite well for us.” Jean-Pierre panted.

You sheathed your bow and replied after a breath “Not bad for a playthrough without a rehearsal.”

You shared a glance between you and a light smile, and Vergier began to feel that even though the past hadn’t been kind to either of you that the future may have been hopeful.

“Er-- _____, ma petite sirene,” Roland peaked his head around the door frame with a concerned smile. “Not to disturb your focus but is this ominous sphere you're doing?”

“Ominous sphere…?” You repeated, setting down the instrument in your hands and picking up the journal.

Jean-Pierre, in his curiosity, approached the door and crumbled to the ground. The colour drained from face as he pieced together a broken sentence “O-ominous sphere… Yeah, I suppose that’s accurate enough…”

You were close behind him, journal in hand. “What exactly are you talking abou-”

Your breath was stolen at the sight. The scribbling, screaming, pulsating mass that hung like an abominable pupa in the sky.

“You see?” Roland pointed up towards it pragmatically “Ominous sphere,”

“Y-…yes,” You managed to say, “Quite…!”

Your fingers began to rifle through the pages. You couldn’t bring yourself to take your eyes off of the thing but somehow you pawed through the journal and read it over.

“I-Its called an œuf maudit , it’s harmless! Largely.”

“Largely!?” Olivier baulked

You flipped through a few more pages, eyes scanning madly. “Well the œuf maudit itself can’t do anything but it will attach itself to anyone who troubles it if we don’t seal it soon.”

“And how do we do that?”

“Well, we have to finish the movement. We’re not quite half way yet.”

“Okay then finish the movement! And quickly, we haven’t got time to waste!”

“Playing it quickly will do nothing but cause mistakes. This is an intricate art form, Sir Olivier.”

“We don’t have time for intricate, there are lives at stake.”

“Clearly! I don’t make a habit of aimless conversation when there are civilians dying!”

“It certainly seems that way to me!”

The Obsidian sallied up to you, eyes wide with frustration. Clearly he wasn’t used to back chat. It was unfortunate for him that you weren’t about to back down. You were, after all, a marquis now! And you would not tolerate even an inkling of disrespect. Roland tried to tone down your debate, patting shoulders and smiling softly but it did nothing for the warring lions that stood before him.

Vergier began to gather his senses hearing the bickering beside him. Not like he would do anything about it, but impending doom was significantly less frightening when your travelling party were having a childish debate. In the moment that he took to get himself together, he saw something he wouldn’t process until much later. 

Across the way a lurching figure was making its way towards them. It limped severely and its gait was reduced significantly by the intense blackness over what should have been its skin. It reached to the floor, picked up a stone and cast it harshly into the œuf maudi t. The sound that ensued was harrowing; a whistling scream that clung like ice to your bone marrow and nattered like teeth in a chalk board. The fragile little, burnt and bruised Beatrice was overwhelmed with cursed emotion and the residue hung in the air.

Hatred.

Malice.

Frustration.

These were the emotions left behind by Camille Du Frois. Any vampire that breathed near the burial site of his legendary bone flute was stricken with a nigh incurable malnomen. But when Beatrice Belladonna was on the cusp of death and she struck the malnomen’s heart, the hatred within reached out to her soul and fused to her smoking chard body. From the sky it rushed down her throat, violently inflating her with the pain and sorrow of one thousand years of loss. The mound wailed and shrieked as it found the semblance of woman and transfiguring beyond. Everything that was once Beatrice Belladonna was now gone. All that remained was a malnomen of indescribable, lovecraftian design. Her skin, a volcanic black, was laden with blood red cracks. Her fangs sprayed out like swords and her arms… her multitudes of arms were sharp and scaley and hungry for flesh.

She wailed in clashing twin registers “I have not come this far to be thwarted by my imp of a husband and an alter boy! I want my kingdom! I want my riches! I will have house Du Frois and all of Altis along with it!!”

Your arguments halted at the sound of your family name. Your knees began to quiver and shake. This was what your rebellion had wrought. Air sat in your chest, sinking heavier and heavier, making it impossible to breathe. Staying with her would have been better, you thought, if you’d have just stayed with Beatrice in Altis none this would be happening. Vieux would be safe, Roland wouldn't be hurt, it would have been so easy to just give up back then. But you fought. And fighting led you to this hellish quandary.

“Well ch é rie?” That was Roland. His voice was like a light in the darkness. He turned his attention from the hellish beast easily, eyes focused like it was only the two of you in the world. Your breathing slowed. “She's threatening our borders. I believe that to be a declaration of war! What sayeth you, Marquis Du Frois?”

You took a moment to settle yourself in his eyes and find yourself in his words. This was what it truly meant to be a marquis, to be the authority of your land. There would be countless targets on your back, innumerable demons to conquer and it was your duty- no, your birthright—to protect it.

“House Du Frois… will not bend or break.” You clenched your fists. “I, _____ Du Frois, will not tolerate this threat to the Altis border. Your reign over me has gone on too long. This ends now Belladonna. “ Vive le pergelisol!”

With a mighty cry, frost overtook Champs-Elysees. Every building, every pavement tile, every lamp post, every single window was covered with ice vapour.

“ Vive le pergelisol! ” Vergier added, gripping the flute and pumping his fist into the air rebelliously.

Olivier watched on in shock. 

You were bristled, red eyes narrowing and hair standing on end. You puffed hazy clouds from your lips draconically. A heretic… this whole time he had been fighting with, talking to and aiding a heretic?! He felt dirty all over.

Roland on the other hand smiled as he watched the beautiful flower before them. This ______ Du Frois was so certain and determined. Your eyes are full of fire but your voice was cold as ice, and Roland was uncontrollably, unequivocally in love with this version of you.

“Well then I suppose that’s that.” Durandal chartered excitedly in his palms as he faced the monster and readied for battle “ Vive le pergelisol ~”

Chapter Text

You stormed back into the dingy room, picking up your bass and flicking to the first sheet of the music.   

 “This is insane...” You could hear Jean-Pierre behind you. The task now weighing on him as his hands quaked and the banshee outside wailed “She’s ten times our size, we can’t possibly defeat that thing!” 

“We won’t if you keep doubting us,” You replied bluntly, focused on setting up. 

“______ please, be reasonable. Look at the task in front of us! We’re outgunned, outmanned, outnumbered and out-planned. A malnomen of that size against a quartet of chasseurs and musicians? We might die here...!” 

“Monsieur Vergier? Before this, I was convinced I would be facing that woman alone. The odds are more in our favour now than they ever were. This is the time to make an all-out stand if ever there was one. Now are you in or are you out?” 

Vergier never did well with head-on confrontation. He avoided the front lines whenever he could. He was a smooth talker, not a fighter. But now he hardly had a choice, and he hated not having a choice. He hated the feeling of being pinned into a corner. But when you’re eyes softened and you added; 

“Please Jean-Pierre... I can’t do this without you,”  

Something clicked.  

He squared his shoulders and brought the flute to his lips. “Very well then, shall I count us in?” 

You settled you bow upon the strings “Please, if you would be so kind.” 

“Chant Du Renouveau : un, deux, trois, quatre, cinque. Deux, deux, trois, quatre, Cinq...” 

Like fireworks aflame, the two captains crossed-dashed into the air. The war had been going on for hours; their bodies were drained and reaching their human limits. But with the engineering might of the little green drug, they powered on.  

“Damn it, Roland!” Olivier hacked through a splaying limb. 

“What?” The Jasper whipped half of his Durandal to his partner, letting him hook the jagged teeth into the gaping wound. “Why me!” 

“Every time you disappear you bring a new form of fresh hell!” Oliver cursed “Just what were you up to?” 

“Who can say, really?” He latched the handle of his blade into the crook of an overturned statue. The beast wouldn’t be able to progress leashed up like that.  

“This is not the time for your cryptic nonsense--” Olivier grunted, clambering up overturned carriages and doorways to reach a higher vantage point “I want the truth!” 

“Now?” 

“Yes, now!” 

The duo worked a flawless partnership, bickering all the way. When you had spent almost every day together, training under the same regimen, naturally you would develop certain strategies. Most of which could only be executed in practice. But having a heretic of this stature was just the opportunity they needed to test out their childhood vampire-wrestling-style combinations. It was only unfortunate that the Olivier’s (rather understandable) rage made him unable to appreciate the fact that they had just successfully completed the “legendary electro-rubble baseball bombardment”. 

“What can I say other than I am just a fool in love!” 

“And that you are in “love” with the one solely responsible for all this chaos.” 

The beast swatted at Olivier, six-fingered palm buzzing with curses the way wasps do about a hive.  

“You’re wrong you know!” Roland called out, whipping Durandal’s other half into the corner of the building. He kept it taunt so Olivier could skate down its spine. “She isn’t responsible for this.” 

“I cannot be so sure about that.” The Obsidian smoothly landed at his partner’s side, back-to-back. “The witch must be deceiving you.” 

Roland simply chuckled, nodding up to where the Femme Maudit was using two of its many arms to cover what must have been its ears. It writhed around, trying to escape the melody that hung in the air. “I don’t know why she would be deceiving me and helping stop this beast at the same time.” 

This was pointless. The highlighter wouldn’t see sense, and trying to make him see sense would take up time they didn’t have to spare. Any chance they had at success was fleeting. Now that your song was blasting through the city, they had to make the most of it. 

“So,” He clicked his neck side to side “I’m assuming you have a plan?” 

“Not as such,” Roland said through labouring breaths. “Keeping this fight on the Champs was as far as I got. So long as Ma Cherie and Monsieur Vergier can finish that song of thiers, all will be put to rights.” 

As it was, they had the benefit of the architecture around the Champs holding Femme Maudit captive, but this creature would certainly be able to move when it was ready to. Hopefully that unsettling tune of yours would stun it or stop it moving somehow.  

Then there was the matter of the execution. This... thing, it had no distinct neck or any real features. It loosely resembled a woman but with the sheer number of “arms” splitting off from its sides, could it really be called that? Then there was the matter of its outer layer. It thrummed with the essence of curses and stolen names, each one undulating in its own bleak path about the body. They shrieked and raced about the skin like flies over dead meat, and emanated a rather depressing aura.  

“I suppose then we need to go for the neck” The Obsidian grimaced “Wherever that is...” 

“Up would be my guess.” Roland replied, “How to scale it though...” 

“How to scale it?” Olivier scoffed “This from the man I scaled the walls of Notre Dame with on Ascension Day?” 

A chuckle left the Jasper’s lips “You know I had almost forgotten about that! The bell tower was one of the only places we had peace...” 

“And custard buns.” He added, sallying up to the foot of the beast. “What’s the difference? Ten, maybe twenty metres?” 

“Hardly!” An eager grin spread across Roland’s face at the challenge “This beast is barely half it’s size~” 

“Then it shall hardly be a challenge. Let’s make a stand with the stamina God has granted us.” Olivier couldn’t help it. He smiled wildly and tightened his ponytail. “We just need a clear path forward...” 

 The screams that once filled the streets of Paris were now minimal. The occasional curse-bearer that shambled around was completely under the thrall of Chant De Reneaveu and any that weren’t were swiftly swept away by the chasseur forces. 

The warriors were relieved. After what felt like weeks of anguish, thousands of losses and uncountable tears, the war was over. Or at least that was how it seemed. The brighter few noticed the pattern, how the runaway few seemed to sally rhythmically towards the tannoy poles and circle them in a deranged dance. One by one they would gather and take their formation, step-step-stepping in a brainwashed ellipse.  

Astolfo watched on his rueful trajectory. He hated this. Hated how the structure suddenly appeared on these monsters. It wasn’t right - it was an abomination; as if these heretics were simply wearing the guise of humanity and doing so poorly. He cared not for their moans of pain as he struck through their corpses. He had his mission – to find the active tannoy room.  

Even without the injection, the young man was nimble enough to climb buildings and leap across rooftops. He hadn’t reached the age were anxiety and stiffness take you for ransom yet, unlike Marco who lagged several metres behind him. The custodian had to find his way down long drops and hike himself up ladders, he had to get around the rivers instead of just leaping over them. It was probably just as well. Had he seen the damned woman in the distance he probably would have lost his mind. Astolfo, however, was grinning at the sight.  

Without a second thought he sunk the murky green tonic into his skin and let the rush of strength surge through him. A doggish grin stretched across his face. The tannoy could wait. After all, there was a heretic here ripe for the killing~ 

Leaping into the sky like a vengeful star, young Astolfo smiled wildly plunging his blade into the beast’s crown and skinning it scalp to soil. The worming curses screeched defiantly as he tore through them, but the young man was surly. Their fear only spurred him on. He hung on Louisette’s handle, recklessly ripping into the “flesh” of the monster. Unlike the cowardly captains on the ground, he needn’t assess before striking. There was fresh meat before, a foe ripe and ready to be pillaged. There was no plan in his assault, nor did there didn’t need to be. Plans were either for imbeciles or procrastinators, and Astolfo Granatum was neither. 

“Come on slow poke,” Olivier smirked at the sight, rushing into the fray leaving Roland stunned behind. “The young one will steal the kill!” 

Their weapons all rattled hungrily, awoken by the stirring rhythm in the astermite. Your song may have been designed to control vampires, but the chasseurs all felt the urgency that it stirred up inside of them. All of Paris thrummed with that Vengeance, and the three warriors would be the instrument to exact that fury.  

Olivier was up first. His body flying forth and climbing up into the sky. Hauteclaire cried out for blood and he was happy to feed it. From the top of carriages, toppling buildings and upturned lampposts he found his path.  

Left, right.  

Right.  

He zeroed in on his target, weaving underneath panicked defences until he was finally close enough to leap in.  

“Astolfo!” He stole the attention of the pinkette who was perched on his spear, plunging aegis grenades elbow deep into the vampire’s flesh.  

Wordlessly they exchanged spaces, the younger hanging down from Louisette’s handle whilst the elder forced his weight into her palms.  

“What are you doing here?!” The Garnet hissed 

“I would assume-” The Obsidian punctuated with a grunt as he flew up upward “-the same thing you are!” 

His long obsidian strands waved and billowed in the wind as he flung himself into the air. How he had missed this feeling. Lately the work of a paladin had boiled down to little more than paperwork and low-level threats, but this? This was a real challenge. And as much as he wished for the night to be over, Hauteclaire was ravenous for the kill.  

“Hey!” Astolfo wasn’t too far behind him, barrelling up the towering woman’s frame in a gravity defying dash towards the summit. “This one is mine!” 

“Come now, we can share. The sooner we strike the sooner we can get the job done!” 

Hauteclaire roared rapaciously in agreement. Her engines thrummed to life once again. Despite her teeth being caked in the blood of her enemies, she gnashed as Olivier tugged at her trigger. Louisette’s astermite core glowed likewise, both weapons sharing the same sentiment. They may have only just eaten their main course, but there was always room for dessert. 

They struck around the spine, eating into the damned flesh. The Femme Maudit wailed, crying out and bending as they tore her apart. Though she tried to break free, the jasper wouldn’t allow it. With both sides of Durandal knotted around her feet he held her back with all he had. He was grateful that one of the blades had been lodged in with the rubble, but simply holding on to the second was proving to be a challenge. Blood rushed to his face. His biceps and quadriceps pulled defiantly taunt. This was impossible, even with the tonic pumping in his veins. The blond puffed out strategic, rhythmic breaths and anchored his soles to the ground. His eyes flitted around. He needed something to lean against, a secure station from which to gather his strength.   

‘There.’ His eyes settled on a blood red fire hydrant nearby ‘That shall have to do!’ 

He took the first step.  

Switch your grip. Engage your core. 

Two steps.  

Grip the ground from your feet through your body. 

Three step.  

Press forth with each breathe.  

Nothing is impossible.  

Fourth step-  

No, his feet didn’t even hit the ground.  

What little energy he had weaselled away. His grip loosened involuntarily. His knees gave out from under him, and his body hit the floor. The sting and slice of all his broken ribs and countless fractures mutilated him.  

The Jasper choked feebly. He could see it. The hydrant, it wasn’t far away. It was just within reach...! If he could just go on a little longer, reach a little further...! It was reckless, but perhaps he could just take another tonic... just one!  

But he couldn’t. He could barely even breathe. 

“Astolfo... Olivier...” The words clawed out of his lips as the fire hydrant dissolved into the landscape “______.... Monsieur...Vergier...” 

The world around him began to fade. There was nothing the Jasper could do to help them now.  

The chasseur bunker was cramped especially with two musicians playing within it. But the air inside, despite it being too hot to musky to breathe, was filled with the determination. Songs echoed out when full force like the battle cry of a tribe long forgotten. The sweat on your back clawed into your clothes. The adrenaline swimming in your veins kept you moving. Your hands flew across the fingerboard. Calluses had long since began to form but you didn’t care. Jean-Pierre was the same after all; his lips were tired and swollen, and his arms tired from holding up the flute just right. But you couldn’t stop. Not yet. Not when you were so close.  

The two of you had fallen into an unspoken rhythm; when and how the pages were turned needn't to be said as much as it was felt. The tempo was tuned your pulse. The two of you were in perfect sync. The way you breathed, the way you played, the way you stood, the way you moved: every idiosyncrasy as if you’d been doing this together for years.  

‘This is going well,’ You thought, rolling your wrist in the flute solo that sat within the fourth movement ‘If we can keep this up, we may be able to save Paris yet!’ 

The glow of the astermite gave just enough light for you to see the music. The bright blue hum blushed on your skin as you cast the healing incantation across the streets of Paris. You would later learn how one by one, shambling curse-bearers began to regain their sense because of it. You couldn’t see how malnomens were beginning to shift and become non-violent. You could feel the change in the air though, sense the turn in the tide, and as you turned the page to the energetic movement fifth things were beginning to look--