Disclaimers: KKS have lots of money and own the copywrite to most manga, what they don’t own yet is probably sitting on the CLAMP drawing-board.
Shounen-ai, implied yaoi, mild profanity? out of sync with anything else…
A very odd sort of cross-over with Vampire:The Masquerade, in the theme of Tenchi Universe i.e. If I take these characters and put them in this situation…
Pulsar,
during the time of Arislan’s campaign to retake the kingdom.
The last fires that burned in and around the fortress were now beginning to burn out. The wounded had been seen to, the sentries set their duties, the dead buried. The dead… Daryoon stared at the ruin before him. Once one of the Prince’s strongholds, the enemy forces had rendered it now useless. He stared, unblinking, uncaring of the acrid smoke curling around him, choking the air… the dead were all buried, all but one. Daryoon had headed the search party himself, to no avail… a few scraps of clothing, a lock of hair caught up by the bracken, the dark stains of blood already drying… all that was left of the Prince’s strategist. Reports said that the Lucitanian soldiers had probably beaten him to death and left a tempting carcass for the wolves. The fact that there was no body to burry added to the sharp sting. Daryoon rubbed his eyes, he should have been there, should have been able to save him…
“It’s not your fault.” The soft, sweet voice of his Prince. “I know-“
“What would you know about anything!” Daryoon snarled, glaring at the boy in front of him.
Tears welled up in the Prince’s large eyes. Daryoon turned away and started down the small hill toward the ruined fortress. He paused when he heard a sob from behind, good, let someone else know the pain he was feeling. He continued to walk away…
A year later…
“No! Have mercy-“ the Lucitanian woman’s shrill voice was cut off, quite literally by the stroke of a sword. A second later the child she’s been trying to save was equally silenced.
Daryoon inspected the rows of corpses, prodding one or two with his sword to check that they were dead. The sounds of running feet behind him made him pause, there was a small choked sound.
“WHY?!” Arslan screamed at him.
Daryoon shrugged, they’d been through this before.
“They were innocent! Why did you have to kill them all?!” Arslan grabbed Daryoon in a vain attempt to shake some sense into him.
“They were Lucitanian.” Daryoon answered vaguely.
“That’s no reason-“ Arslan stopped abruptly “This is because of Narsus, isn’t it? It’s because of what those soldiers did to him.”
Daryoon regarded Arslan, unblinking.
“He wouldn’t want this!”
Daryoon didn’t respond.
“You’re mad! You’ve gone completely insane!” Arslan yelled at the unresponsive visage.
Daryoon appeared to consider the possibility, then he smiled “Perhaps I have.”
The next morning…
Arslan stared out of the window. Daryoon was nowhere to be found. The sentries had reported that he’d ridden off some time before dawn. Arslan felt the tears build, he might as well give up now, his strategist was long dead and his now absent protector was insane.
Birmingham, current day…
Daryoon drummed his fingers on the steering-wheel impatiently. On all the evenings, of all the days why did the entire population of the West Midlands have to drive along Queensway now? He turned on the radio, then abruptly turned it off after a brief burst of X-Japan’s “Forever Love”. He hadn’t even known than ‘BRMB’ played foreign stuff. Daryoon stared at the long line of cars in front of him, he was going to be late.
Two weeks ago it had been decided by someone that tonight would be a good time to hold clan council, so the entire Lasombra populous of the Midlands would converge on Birmingham to discuss matters of great importance to the clan, in theory. Daryoon was sure that it would just be another round of posturing and fancy dress. He tugged at his tie miserably. So much for the Sabbat rejecting all things mortal, they’d even sent him an invitation by post.
Half an hour and about 4 meters of traffic later, his mobile rang. Daryoon could guess who it was even before he picked it up.
“Daryoon! Where the hell are you?!”
“Evening, Edd. You know the traffic’s terrible.”
“You were supposed to be here, like, now!”
“Look, just cover for me-“
“Cover for you! You’re only Cyrus’ most important fledgling and successor, do you really think no one’s going to notice that you’re not here yet?!”
Daryoon responded by turning on the CD player.
“Daryoon! Are you even listening? Daryoon!”
“I’m listening. I just don’t see what all the fuss is about. I’ve been late to clan council before.”
“This is different! There’s someone-“
“Edd, this isn’t another one of Mephisto’s plans to set me up again is it? Because if it is she can just…” Daryoon left the thought unfinished.
“Apparently he’s very important.”
“So?”
“You remember that Toreador I told you about, the one that’s been with the Tzimisce?”
“No.” Daryoon said flatly, hoping to end the conversation.
“The elders want him blood bound to the clan.” Edd carried on regardless, knowing this friend’s opinion of such arrangements.
“So let them do it themselves. I don’t want some silly Toreador who’s going to go all cross-eyed over some painting!”
“For the sake of the clan.”
“Screw the clan!” Daryoon yelled and hung up. In truth it wasn’t just this he objected to, after Narsus had died Daryoon had made up his mind that there would never be anyone else for him. He would remain alone, forever. And for a vampire forever was a very long time.
Daryoon was already on the M6 heading back to London by the time his mobile rang again. He let it ring, cycling through his collection of Ani Difranco CDs on the automatic changer to find something to drown out the sound. The CD started playing and he turned up the volume and sang along.
“I have a darkness that I have to feed
I have a sadness that grows up around me like a weed.”
After a while the phone stopped ringing but he never noticed.
London.
People filtered out onto the Strand wrapping winter coats and scarves about them, most heading quickly for the tube or bus that would take them home. Among the small throng exiting the KCL main building one paused to marvel at the landscape of artificial lights that dominated the evening. The off-yellow light reflected oddly off green eyes for a moment catching the attention of one or two passers-by, they looked closer and then suddenly looked away. It wasn’t an unusual response, for the face they looked at was perfect, too perfect, in fact to be human. It made the potential admirer stop and wonder, though none could actually tell what was wrong.
Narsus smiled slightly, it had taken him several centuries to perfect this illusion and though he knew that no other could have practiced their flesh-crafting with such precision, it was nice to receive a reminder.
There were others like him in the city, though Narsus personally didn’t give a damn about them. Other vampires who dressed themselves up under the name of Kindred, others allied with the chief clans of the Sabbat, others rumoured to have been blood-bound to ancient Lasombra, other Toreador but none of these things could normally be said about any one Kindred. All in all there was no other Kindred like him, a Toreador, raised as a Lasombra, trained by the Tzimisce, allied to the Sabbat and serving the Camarilla. Perhaps it was a contradiction, many of Camarilla elders though so, after all, how could this potential Lasombra truly value humanity? Sabbat elders often whispered the same, he might have been raised by the Lasombra but a Toreador was still a Toreador.
Narsus made his way past the buildings towards the river, pausing to admire the reflections on the water. He shouldn’t be here, should have been in Birmingham several hours ago, at the Lasombra clan council… the Lasombra… leading clan of the Sabbat, bending humanity to their will, murderers, manipulators… his saviours.
The Lucitanian soldiers had left him for dead, not that he didn’t wish to be. He had failed, failed everyone, the kingdom, the Prince, even Daryoon… What was the use of living now? Lying on the ground, weak and helpless, Narsus closed his eyes seeing the play of events in the clear sight of his mind. He could imagine it all, step by step, the Pulsian army crumbling, enemy forces overrunning everything and what of Daryoon? Daryoon was most likely dead, a crumpled body on a battlefield, sightless eyes fixed forever on the sky.
Narsus drifted in and out of consciousness, simply waiting to die. At some point there was someone there, next to him, dark eyes peering into his own. Maybe it was death and perhaps it was, in a sense, death with burning eyes and fangs that pierced his flesh, that made him scream.
An inhuman scream woke him and then there were several ghostly faces peering at him, fragments of conversation drifting around…
“… of course. They’re drawn to beauty.”
“Stinking Toreador!”
“Look, he’s still alive.”
“What?! I cut his head off!”
“Not that one, this one.”
“Still alive?”
“I don’t want to be.” Narsus managed to gasp out.
Then there was laughter ringing round him as he sank back into unconsciousness.
Narsus blinked several times, shaking off the memory. It still hurt, after all this time. Every time he though of Daryoon he’d end up crying, after all these centuries he still couldn’t bear to speak the name of the one he’d loved, still loved.
The sudden ring of his mobile cut off any further melancholy.
“Hello?”
“Narsus… about this evening…”
“I’m sorry, Edd, I won’t be able to make clan council this time.”
“Yeah?”
“I’m in London.”
Silence on the other end for a moment. “You never intended to come.”
“I… I know they mean well but…”
“But?”
“Look, I don’t really need some random Lasombra blood-bound to me, do I.”
“This isn’t some random Lasombra.”
“I know, I know. Cyrus’ successor. I’m sure he’s fine but I just can’t…”
“Is there someone else we should know about?”
“No.”
“No. Then why?”
“He’s dead. He’s been dead for a very long time. Talk to you later, Edd.”
Narsus hung up. He turned back towards the river with a sigh. He didn’t want to think anymore, of course they were just trying to be helpful, Seishiro was probably worrying about his depression and suggesting that he meet this Lasombra sounded like Hisui’s idea. Narsus had to smile at that, neither had the reputation of retaining any such vestiges of humanity, Seishiro was a Tzimisce known for dissecting his prey, while the Lasombra Hisui simply liked to watch them bleed.
Narsus turned away from the river finally, it was almost morning, he needed to rest and tomorrow, tomorrow he needed to return to Cardiff, to the service of the Camarilla prince. He’d been mildly surprised when he’d been given permission to attend a Sabbat clan council but the most truly entertaining moment had come just before the doors of the prince’s council chamber had closed behind him. The whisper of the prince’s other advisors, mostly Ventrue.
“His blood may be Toreador but his heart and soul are Lasombra.”
Early the next evening.
“…in Istanbul earlier today…”
Daryoon turned the TV off, “Constantinople” he muttered under his breath. Stupid Turks, why did they have to change the name, stupid clan, if only they’d given him more troops, the Eastern empire could have held out… He got up from the sofa and began to sift through the pile of newspapers on the dining table; “Die World”, “La Mondé”, “The Independent”. There wasn’t anything new to catch his attention, in fact there hadn’t been since that Plantaganet chap had died and the house of Lancaster had lost the crown of England. He’d been on the York side out of principle, since he hadn’t though they’d had much chance of winning. After the Eastern side of the Holy Roman Empire had fallen Daryoon had made a point of trying to be on the side of the under-dog, and he’d never really forgiven the Rome-based side of the clan for ordering them back from Emperor Constantine’s side. It was probably pointless to be angry now for grievances that had taken place during the Middle Ages but then, he still mourned for a love lost before the Holy Roman Empire had even been born.
“…in Istanbul earlier today…”
Narsus frowned and moved to turn off the TV. The Turks had renamed the city after their victory, but it had been Constantinople still when Narsus had last been there, to deliver the orders from the Lasombra council of Rome, that all troops were to be withdrawn. He remembered the looks of disbelief on the faces of the commanders in the room, if they left now clan Assimite, under the guise of the Turks would overrun the city, and of course that was the point. They mostly shouted and demanded to know why but Narsus couldn’t give any answers, he was only a messenger and was already longing to return to the Tzimisce stronghold in the Hungarian mountains. Despite that he was still observant enough to notice one figure staring out of the window, seeming to ignore the order and the outrage that followed. A Lasombra, of course, perhaps only as old as he was, there was something about him, about his response to the order from Rome, almost familiar… Narsus had ignored it and left the city with only a few hours of night remaining, the sooner to return to the dark embrace of clan Tzimisce.
Daryoon scowled as the tube came to a halt in the darkness of the tunnel. Damn system, always messing up but then why did it matter, it wasn’t as if he had anywhere to go anyway. After a brief spell of pacing and cursing at the past in general he’d considered it conducive to his mental health to at least try to forget everything for a bit. Thus Daryoon rode the tube to miscellaneous destinations for about an hour or so before deciding that he may as well just get off and walk for a while. Now having made that decision he was stuck on a train that didn’t appear to be going anywhere anytime soon. Daryoon held on to his scowl, it helped hide the fact that he had nothing to do but think and curse and wallow in self-pity.
Years ago, no, centuries he had let the pain wash over him, taking with it most of his sanity. It had just seemed so unfair to just continue with life, to carry on like before, fighting for the kingdom and the Prince, when Narsus was no longer by his side. When his beloved had given up everything for their cause and there was nothing to show for it. And of course, that was the other problem… Daryoon had never told Narsus how he’d felt, always thinking that there would be a better time to do so, always thinking that there would be another time when he found the words dried up in his chest. Then suddenly one day they’d run out of time. Narsus was dead and Daryoon was just expected to carry on without him, as if it didn’t matter. That was when he’d lost it. He’d been unable to do anything, to change anything and had simply let his anger and grief take over. It was probably a good thing that he’d left, probably… Even after all these years Daryoon didn’t know what had happened, didn’t dare go looking in the old archives of the British Library to find the fate of the long dead Prince Arslan. He wasn’t sure he could face the result.
The train pulled up to the platform at Blackfriers and Daryoon’s long strides carried him quickly to the main train platforms. He’d decided to get himself to Faringdon and throttle Mephisto for trying to set him up the other night.
It was a shame, Narsus though as he peered out of the train window, that Arslan had never had the chance to rule. He would have made a good king, that is, if he hadn’t been executed for treason by his cousin. Narsus hadn’t know about it at the time but years later he had made enquiries, at least Andragoras hadn’t survived either. Surprisingly, there had been no record of Daryoon’s fate. About a year after Narsus’ supposed death, Daryoon’s name simply dropped from the records. Narsus had wondered, Pulsar had fallen under Lasombra control at the time, and they were always looking for powerful nobles to recruit. It was a vain hope that he’d clung to, that Daryoon might somehow have been saved from death. Unfortunately the only ones saved appeared to have been himself and an insane general. This was another reason that Narsus hadn’t gone to Birmingham, he had no wish what so ever to confront Cyrus’ successor, who no matter how sane he was supposed to be now, had spent the best part of several centuries killing and/or maiming just about anything he could get his hands on. A man like that… Narsus shuddered, what could possibly make a man do something like that? He wasn’t sure he wanted to know.
The train came to a halt at Blackfriers and Narsus hopped down onto the platform, determined to put all dark thoughts behind him. He’d have enough trouble when he got back to Cardiff. Then something caught his attention, a faint shudder in the very atmosphere, another vampire, not only that, a Lasombra. It felt like, like… Cyrus but no, the elder was definitely not in London at present. Then if it wasn’t him it had to be his successor, that maniac. Narsus ducked his head and began to walk as quickly as discreetly possible towards the steps to the tube.
Daryoon stopped, looking about nervously. There was another close by, he caught a distinct ‘presence’, almost Lasombra, almost but then, why were his senses screaming Toreador? He turned towards the presence and began to walk along the platform. The thought occurred briefly that this might be someone sent by the elders to find him, then he grinned and the sickening crunch of bone echoed in his mind.
Narsus was close to panicking. It was him, that maniac and he was getting closer. He wondered briefly if a sudden burst of flesh-crafting to change his features might help him get away but then it was unlikely that this particular Lasombra would care what he looked like. Narsus practically ran down the stairs, mentally reviewing his strategies while a small portion of his brain was frantically reciting the Lord’s Prayer in Latin. Lasombra having been at the heart of the church it might just help to ward this one off. A church, he had to find a church, then he could claim sanctuary and this maniac would hopefully leave him alone.
Daryoon picked up his pace, determined to catch this ‘other’ the elders had sent after him. Detaching his senses from the pursuit Daryoon tried to listen to the other’s thoughts, it might give him a clue as to where he was headed, unfortunately instead of anything useful he got a burst of something in Latin. He silently cursed his own clan, Catholics were just too weird. Stepping out of the station exit a burst of cold air hit him and Daryoon could pick out the shadow of this ‘other’ hurrying in the direction of the Strand. Daryoon groaned, he’d better not be heading for the Savoy chapel or King’s.
And then, his prey stopped abruptly. Seemingly frozen in place. Daryoon approached cautiously.
He couldn’t lead him up to the Strand, not this maniac. There would be too many people around, too many would get hurt or killed. Besides perhaps now fate would finish it’s job. Narsus let his despair coil around him, he’d spent years mourning his lost humanity, perhaps it would be better if he died. Perhaps then he could be reunited with all he’d lost. He sank to his knees in the shadow, closing his eyes. “Let me die.” He whispered. No mortal could have heard him but his stalker was no longer mortal.
“Let me die.”
It was whispered with such despair that Daryoon suddenly didn’t want to exact revenge on the coucil’s emissary. Such sadness mirrored Daryoon’s own, what could have possibly caused it. Daryoon shook his head as he slowed his pace, he didn’t want to know but… he could at least end the pain for this one. He stepped up behind the slumped figure. Even in the deepest shadow his eyes could see the long brown hair, the delicate hands clasped together.
The Lasombra was stood right behind him. Any moment now and there would only be sweet oblivion. ‘Please’ Narsus though ‘Please end this pain’.
He grabbed a handful of the long hair, to pull the head back exposing the throat. Daryoon tried not to pull to hard, it was the least he could do…
“Yes, kill me.”
“I’m sorry.”
Narsus froze. He’d gone mad, he must have done but weren’t crazy people supposed to hear voices?
Daryoon could almost feel his heart stop. Impossible, it couldn’t be. A trick of the light…
A slightly drunk commuter rattled down the road and shouted something abusive at them. Narsus responded with a string of expletives and Daryoon slid down the wall laughing.
“Daryoon? Daryoon is… is it really… really you?”
Daryoon stopped laughing abruptly, staring at the face of the one he’d though he’d lost forever. “Yes.” Was all he could say and then Narsus was in his arms weeping and clinging to him desperately. Daryoon held him tightly, threading his fingers through the soft hair and breathing in the scent of his beloved.
“Bene facis.” Daryoon breathed to the heavens and quiet now, in his love’s arms, Narsus also whispered a silent ‘thank you’ to the powers that be.
Ooh, a week long project…
It’s odd but I just had to write it down and I even managed to slip Hisui and Sei-chan into the plot! Edd, Mephisto and Cyrus, on the other hand are completely original characters, not that they do much.
“Bene facis” is Latin for “Thank you”, I think.
Beware, I intend to write more stories set in this AU! Annie Lennox’s “Love Song for a Vampire” is a real inspiration.
- Narsus (25/11/01)