FIC: Spoken in Haste
Dec. 29th, 2007 11:13 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ficwizeTitle: Spoken in Haste
Fandom: Anita Blake
Prompt: 75 - hush![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
tamingthemuse
Warnings: Contains canon slash relationships.
Rating: Teen
Summary: Relationships are hard. Being a vampire doesn't make it easier.
Disclaimer: I don't own Anita Blake. Laurel K. Hamilton does. This work of fanfiction is not meant to offend.
A/N: Unbetaed. Finally, this is my first attempt to write anything in this fandom, so please be gentle.
As always, feedback is welcome and appreciated!
************************
(i)
“Je t’aime, Jean-Claude.”
The golden haired vampire had lost count of the number of times he had spoken those words years before. At one time they had been the foundation of his life. The dark-haired vampire had been his partner, his lover, his friend, his raison d’être for so long.
Asher had trusted him.
“Je ne vous pardonnerai jamais.”
The light in Jean-Claude’s intense blue eyes faded until the orbs were as lifeless as Asher’s. “Asher, j'ai essayé.”
“You tried?” Asher spat. “You failed. I will never forgive you.”
Wordlessly, Jean-Claude left Asher clutching Julianna’s lifeless body to his chest.
(ii)
“I have no care if you stay.” Jean-Claude was a master at controlling his voice. Asher had seen him use it to control crowds of people, making them shiver in fear or shudder in pleasure at his barest whisper.
None of that power was present now and the deadness that echoed chamber was not an affectation of the brunette vampire’s voice. Asher stiffened, a cascade of golden hair falling to cover the ruined half of his face.
“Au revoir, Jean-Claude.” Asher made sure his voice matched the others in tone and timber. He didn’t look back as he walked away.
(iii)
Belle Morte was as beautiful as she was cruel and took special pleasure in taunting Jean-Claude and Asher for their defection. You are mine.
“Oui.” Asher whispered. “For as long as you will have me.”
“Always.” The succubus whispered in his ear and for a moment Asher felt wanted. Then he saw Jean-Claude across the room obviously plying his powers of seduction on one of Belle Morte’s guests. Their eyes met and for a moment everyone else fell away, even the dangerous vampire who used them for her amusement.
“I’m yours,” Asher promised, but he wasn’t looking at Belle Morte.
(iv)
“I’m leaving.” Asher stilled in that way that only the old vampires could do. His whole body stilled and he was suddenly as dead on the outside as he felt on the inside.
Non, s’il vous plait. Asher didn’t speak aloud, but he was amazed that Jean-Claude couldn’t hear the noise his soul made at the news. If he had a soul.
Asher didn’t turn towards the other vampire standing behind him. He could almost feel Jean-Claude reach out to him, almost feel the remembered sensation of gentle fingers tangling in his hair, but in the end he felt nothing.
(v)
“Jean-Claude is the Master of Saint Louis.” The news swept through the court and swirled around in growing fury until it reached Belle Morte - the head of Jean-Claude’s line. “Nikolaos is dead.”
Asher rarely thought of Jean-Claude consciously, but his dreams… they were beyond his control. Now it seemed that the one being in the world that Asher would have given anything to forget was the one being that everyone wanted to talk about.
Belle Morte hid her interest well, but Asher could feel it crawl across his skin whenever she spoke Jean-Claude’s name. Despite everything, that scared him.
(vi)
“Jean-Claude has taken a lover…” The news swept through the court and swirled around in growing fury until it reached Belle Morte – and Asher. The other courtesans withdrew as far as they dared, but Asher could not escape his dam’s wrath.
No one left Belle-Morte and took another woman as a lover. No one did it twice.
Asher had left with Jean-Claude once before, taking Julianna, Asher’s human servant. It had been the only way that Asher could keep Jean-Claude…
Jean-Claude was safe from Belle-Morte. Asher was not. Head bowed, he accepted her anger. It helped him hide his grief.
(vii)
“I want you to take a trip.” Belle-Morte commanded and Asher had to work to hide his astonishment.
“Oui. Anywhere.” It had been so long since the head of his line had acknowledged him except to torment him over his broken face that Asher felt unbalanced.
“Saint Louis.” The answer came as no surprise.
“If you wish.”
“While you are there,” Belle Morte’s voice dripped honeyed acid, “you can see his human servant for yourself.”
“Oui.”
A silken hand caressed the scars hidden under golden hair. “And make Jean-Claude remember where he came from.”
Asher smiled, his eyes cruel. “Oui.”
(viii)
Asher could feel Jean-Claude as soon as he set foot in Saint Louis. Even better, he could feel the other vampire’s shock. Asher could count every moment that they had been apart; they were etched upon his body in scars as permanent as the ones on his face, if less visible.
The wind blew through Asher’s hair, murmuring of untold nights of pleasure. Asher’s eyes hardened. “You lie,” he whispered over the wind, remembering a century of isolation and grief.
“I loved you.”
“You failed me.”
“I still love you.” An echo where a heartbeat would have sounded.
“More lies.”
(ix)
“Why are you here, mon amour?” Jean-Claude was even more beautiful than Asher remembered. His blue velvet coat emphasized his eyes, but Jean-Claude’s expression was carefully blank.
“Do not presume to call me thus.” Asher had become a master of keeping the ruined half of his face hidden behind hair and shadows and he did both now to force a wall between them.
“What name would you prefer?”
Asher was nearly blinded by memories of them with Julianna, laughing together. “That you share the same misery you condemned me to. If you must call me something, Jean-Claude, name me Vengeance.”
(x)
Je t’aime, Jean-Claude.
The words remained unspoken. Asher watched carefully. He saw, even though Anita did not, that Jean-Claude loved her. He saw the looks of soft adoration and unspoken devotion that shone from within the brilliant blue orbs of his past-lover’s face.
It had taken time, but Asher was learning to forgive. It helped that on occasion, Jean-Claude gazed not at Anita, but at Asher. In those moments, Asher felt something he hadn’t felt since before Julianna’s murder and his own disfiguration – he felt wanted. He felt loved.
He felt hope that he and Jean-Claude might create a future.
Fandom: Anita Blake
Prompt: 75 - hush
tamingthemuseWarnings: Contains canon slash relationships.
Rating: Teen
Summary: Relationships are hard. Being a vampire doesn't make it easier.
Disclaimer: I don't own Anita Blake. Laurel K. Hamilton does. This work of fanfiction is not meant to offend.
A/N: Unbetaed. Finally, this is my first attempt to write anything in this fandom, so please be gentle.
As always, feedback is welcome and appreciated!
************************
(i)
“Je t’aime, Jean-Claude.”
The golden haired vampire had lost count of the number of times he had spoken those words years before. At one time they had been the foundation of his life. The dark-haired vampire had been his partner, his lover, his friend, his raison d’être for so long.
Asher had trusted him.
“Je ne vous pardonnerai jamais.”
The light in Jean-Claude’s intense blue eyes faded until the orbs were as lifeless as Asher’s. “Asher, j'ai essayé.”
“You tried?” Asher spat. “You failed. I will never forgive you.”
Wordlessly, Jean-Claude left Asher clutching Julianna’s lifeless body to his chest.
(ii)
“I have no care if you stay.” Jean-Claude was a master at controlling his voice. Asher had seen him use it to control crowds of people, making them shiver in fear or shudder in pleasure at his barest whisper.
None of that power was present now and the deadness that echoed chamber was not an affectation of the brunette vampire’s voice. Asher stiffened, a cascade of golden hair falling to cover the ruined half of his face.
“Au revoir, Jean-Claude.” Asher made sure his voice matched the others in tone and timber. He didn’t look back as he walked away.
(iii)
Belle Morte was as beautiful as she was cruel and took special pleasure in taunting Jean-Claude and Asher for their defection. You are mine.
“Oui.” Asher whispered. “For as long as you will have me.”
“Always.” The succubus whispered in his ear and for a moment Asher felt wanted. Then he saw Jean-Claude across the room obviously plying his powers of seduction on one of Belle Morte’s guests. Their eyes met and for a moment everyone else fell away, even the dangerous vampire who used them for her amusement.
“I’m yours,” Asher promised, but he wasn’t looking at Belle Morte.
(iv)
“I’m leaving.” Asher stilled in that way that only the old vampires could do. His whole body stilled and he was suddenly as dead on the outside as he felt on the inside.
Non, s’il vous plait. Asher didn’t speak aloud, but he was amazed that Jean-Claude couldn’t hear the noise his soul made at the news. If he had a soul.
Asher didn’t turn towards the other vampire standing behind him. He could almost feel Jean-Claude reach out to him, almost feel the remembered sensation of gentle fingers tangling in his hair, but in the end he felt nothing.
(v)
“Jean-Claude is the Master of Saint Louis.” The news swept through the court and swirled around in growing fury until it reached Belle Morte - the head of Jean-Claude’s line. “Nikolaos is dead.”
Asher rarely thought of Jean-Claude consciously, but his dreams… they were beyond his control. Now it seemed that the one being in the world that Asher would have given anything to forget was the one being that everyone wanted to talk about.
Belle Morte hid her interest well, but Asher could feel it crawl across his skin whenever she spoke Jean-Claude’s name. Despite everything, that scared him.
(vi)
“Jean-Claude has taken a lover…” The news swept through the court and swirled around in growing fury until it reached Belle Morte – and Asher. The other courtesans withdrew as far as they dared, but Asher could not escape his dam’s wrath.
No one left Belle-Morte and took another woman as a lover. No one did it twice.
Asher had left with Jean-Claude once before, taking Julianna, Asher’s human servant. It had been the only way that Asher could keep Jean-Claude…
Jean-Claude was safe from Belle-Morte. Asher was not. Head bowed, he accepted her anger. It helped him hide his grief.
(vii)
“I want you to take a trip.” Belle-Morte commanded and Asher had to work to hide his astonishment.
“Oui. Anywhere.” It had been so long since the head of his line had acknowledged him except to torment him over his broken face that Asher felt unbalanced.
“Saint Louis.” The answer came as no surprise.
“If you wish.”
“While you are there,” Belle Morte’s voice dripped honeyed acid, “you can see his human servant for yourself.”
“Oui.”
A silken hand caressed the scars hidden under golden hair. “And make Jean-Claude remember where he came from.”
Asher smiled, his eyes cruel. “Oui.”
(viii)
Asher could feel Jean-Claude as soon as he set foot in Saint Louis. Even better, he could feel the other vampire’s shock. Asher could count every moment that they had been apart; they were etched upon his body in scars as permanent as the ones on his face, if less visible.
The wind blew through Asher’s hair, murmuring of untold nights of pleasure. Asher’s eyes hardened. “You lie,” he whispered over the wind, remembering a century of isolation and grief.
“I loved you.”
“You failed me.”
“I still love you.” An echo where a heartbeat would have sounded.
“More lies.”
(ix)
“Why are you here, mon amour?” Jean-Claude was even more beautiful than Asher remembered. His blue velvet coat emphasized his eyes, but Jean-Claude’s expression was carefully blank.
“Do not presume to call me thus.” Asher had become a master of keeping the ruined half of his face hidden behind hair and shadows and he did both now to force a wall between them.
“What name would you prefer?”
Asher was nearly blinded by memories of them with Julianna, laughing together. “That you share the same misery you condemned me to. If you must call me something, Jean-Claude, name me Vengeance.”
(x)
Je t’aime, Jean-Claude.
The words remained unspoken. Asher watched carefully. He saw, even though Anita did not, that Jean-Claude loved her. He saw the looks of soft adoration and unspoken devotion that shone from within the brilliant blue orbs of his past-lover’s face.
It had taken time, but Asher was learning to forgive. It helped that on occasion, Jean-Claude gazed not at Anita, but at Asher. In those moments, Asher felt something he hadn’t felt since before Julianna’s murder and his own disfiguration – he felt wanted. He felt loved.
He felt hope that he and Jean-Claude might create a future.
