Shanghai
They said nothing on the way to the airport. They said nothing as they boarded the private jet Dmitri booked for them. Two sets of seats faced each other on the far end away from the door. The back wall housed a full bar, a bar which split the path to the bathroom on the left and the bedroom to the right. Gaspard and Nathalie sat opposite each other and buckled in their seats, her looking out the window while he stared straight ahead-Not a word.
The plane took off with a little turbulence but got in the air all the same. After the pilot turned off their seatbelt light Gaspard headed straight for the bar, pouring himself a whiskey. Then another. And another. Just what he needed after these past few days; a stiff drink! Or three.
Nathalie remained in her seat, gazing out of the window, her mind swirling with a mixture of frustration, regret, and curiosity. The silence between her and Gaspard was thick, suffocating almost, but she found herself unable to break it. Her thoughts raced as she tried to make sense of this mess.
What have I gotten myself into?
Her gaze flickered to Gaspard, who was now pouring himself yet another drink at the bar. The sight of him triggered a surge of anger within her, but beneath it lay a hint of something else, something she couldn't quite place.
Mangy bastard, she thought, clenching her fists. Just when she thought she'd left the political power struggles behind in her mortal life here she was again. Never did she imagine she'd be helping out the other side, especially against her will.
As the plane continued its journey, Nathalie's thoughts on her current situation triggered a trip down memory lane, to the life she once had as a queen. Memories of her husband, Ramses, flashed through her mind, mingling with the pain of loss and betrayal.
Power, she thought bitterly. It ruins every bloody thing. She watched it turn the first man she loved into an unrecognizable monster. Cain had that same ruthless side to him, and he tried his best not to show it to her, but it would always win out in the end. She glanced at Gaspard again, her eyes narrowing slightly as she studied him.
He didn't seem in that same vein; there was a method to his very evident madness. And he didn't seem too thrilled to be stuck in this predicament either. Despite their differences, she couldn't deny the strange connection she felt with him, the way his presence seemed to both infuriate and intrigue her.
With a sigh, Nathalie leaned back in her seat, her mind still buzzing with questions and uncertainties when she noticed him staring into space, towards one of the shuttered windows.
"If you open those shutters I won't be responsible for my actions," Nathalie warned.
"As long as you don't try to strangle me we should be fine," Gaspard sniped. He paused and held up his hand, dropping the attitude for a second. He couldn't help it; she burrowed under his skin like a bot fly. "I'm sorry-it won't happen again." Among other things.
"And how do I know that?"
His shoulders fell with a heavy sigh. "I vow that it won't. How do I know you won't try to strangle me again?"
"...I vow it as well."
Awkward silence settled over the cabin once more, the Lycan settled at the bar with his drink while the vampire watched the clouds roll past. She glanced at his hunched figure before returning her gaze to the window.
"I'm sorry about your wife," she said carefully. "She was very beautiful."
"...thank you." Gaspard quietly sipped his whiskey, the fiery liquid warming his chest.
"You two looked very happy together."
His glass squeaked under his grip. He didn't need to be reminded of the happiness that was snatched from him. He was drowning her out when his ears perked up at the name he never thought he'd hear again.
"Henri?"
It defied physics how fast he spun around on the bar stool. "Quoi? What did you say?"
"Your wife. She called you Henri a few times; I thought your name was Gaspard. Is it a nickname or something?"
There it was again, on the lips of that damned vampire.
"...It's my middle name, after my father. Only she ever called me that." As he went around the back of the bar he added, "I'd like to keep it that way, if you don't mind."
Awkward...
"Your daughter..." She scratched her cheek. "She looks like her."
He nodded. "She's all I have left, so you understand why this has to be done."
"You have the heir, you have the power." Nathalie stepped towards the bar and Gaspard's nostrils flared as her scent enthralled him; damn jasmine again. His eyes followed her as she sauntered towards him, looking at the assorted bottles. He should've paid attention to what that salesperson was grabbing; tight black leather pants that hugged her hips and a gray sweater with exposed shoulders. His gaze averted to the window, cirrus and nimbus clouds flying by.
"I take it you have experience with these sorts of things?" Gaspard asked, placing a glass on the counter for her.
Nathalie nodded. "I'm all too familiar with it. My eldest son with my ex." She pointed to the absinthe on the wall behind him. If there was ever a time to have a few, being a prisoner of war would be one of them. "Could you...?"
He handed her the green bottle and watched her pour a glass. "You have children?"
"Had." she corrected, polishing off the drink as if it were water. Her eyes remained fixed on the counter as she poured herself another one. "Four sons and two daughters." She'd only mention the ones that lived, otherwise they'd be there all day.
Gaspard whistled low. Six! "You and your husband must have gotten on like a house on fire." He often wondered what he and Marie's second child would've been.
Nathalie gave a wry chuckle. "It was a royal match; we did our duty."
So she used to be a queen; that's how she looked familiar! "So who was he?"
"...Ramses; you may know him as 'Ramses the Great'."
"Hmph," Gaspard leaned against the bar, amused. "Remarkable man, from what I've read."
Nathalie shook her head. "History is written by the victors, however embellished."
He raised an eyebrow. "You never cared for your husband?"
She made a face before shaking her head, thinking back to when things were less complicated, when the world was small and life was simple.
"There was love...in the beginning."
He took note of her thousand-yard stare. "So what happened?"
A knowing grin curled her lips. "Let's just say absolute power corrupts absolutely." She couldn't stand the pitying looks when she divulged the truth about her marriage. All of the temples and shrines he'd built for her, an attest to his "great love for her" were nothing but the offerings of a guilty conscience.
He nodded, intrigued. "Indeed it does. Your life must have been very exciting." He rubbed his chin in thought. "So how did you...?"
She looked at him in confusion. "How did I what?"
"Cross paths with...your king." He went to sip his drink, frowning at his empty glass. Can't have that-he poured another.
"Sheer dumb luck, I'm afraid-it's a long story I don't think we have time for." The vampire ran her tongue over her teeth, sucking hard. It was actually rather brief-Cain arrived at their court proposing trade right before the plagues decimated Egypt and put the final nail in the coffin that was her marriage...and her life. She smirked as she remembered; he had locs then, and a smile that charmed her right out of her dress.
Gaspard tilted his head. "We'll be in the air for at least another eight hours; plenty of time."
His jibe met with stony silence.
"...I'd have expected him to pick up the phone for his queen."
"I'm not his queen," she snapped, pinching the bridge of her nose. "I'm nobody's queen anymore..." Queendom left a sour taste in Nathalie's mouth. She hated the lack of privacy, the pomp of it all. Now she reveled in being able to move about whenever she wanted, at least until two days ago.
"I've had enough royal processions and ceremonies to last me three lifetimes. It's all a big pissing contest anyway. No offense."
"None taken." He wondered what happened between them for her to react so vehemently. Seconds passed before he spoke again. "So--"
"I really don't see how this helps you get your daughter back," she grumbled, tucking a braid behind her ear as her nostrils flared. "It's...complicated; that's all you need to know."
"Fine." The vampire had a point; none of this was his business, but his curiosity gnawed at him. He nearly pouted like a child, told he could no longer play his favorite game.
"Don't worry...he won't find out about our "rubber ducky" time if that's what you're worried about." Nathalie laughed at the blush in his cheeks as he plopped into his seat by the window. She wondered if she'd even tell her best friend-better to keep it to oneself for now.
"Which will never happen again, by the way." he replied bitterly.
"Glad we're on the same page, Your Grace." She had yet to process the kiss before he gave her another experience to ponder. Nathalie chewed her bottom lip as she tried not to remember how he tasted, his rough groans against her skin as they moved together and sent each other into oblivion. His hesitation was expected, even shared for the first few moments, but she also detected...nervousness? Silence filled the air before it was her turn to ask a question.
"Have you been with anyone else since your wife died?"
Gaspard regretted the path this conversation was taking. "...Non."
That explains it. "Was it an arranged match?" She tensed up when he bristled at her question; he still wore his wedding band.
"Ouai. She was my father's ward; we grew up together." He sighed heavily, trying not to fall into that rabbit hole again. "She...kept me sane."
"No kidding." Nathalie snorted as she plopped down in the seat in front of him. "No wife to bring your brother to heel?"
"Darien refused to marry. He repudiated every match we put in front of him, and we didn't want him mistreating a girl if we forced his hand." Gaspard leaned back in his seat. "No widow left to mourn him, so it works out."
"You will kill him, then?" She swirled the absinthe around in her glass. Cain would probably commend him; he invented fratricide, after all.
"It's the only way to end this." He looked up at the ceiling deep in thought.
"I wish you the best of luck in your endeavors." Nathalie said honestly, raising her glass in toast. Gaspard raised his glass to her in return, finishing his drink and leaning back once more when he felt a buzz coming on.
"What was she like? Your wife?"
He closed his eyes, trying to imagine her, and he laughed to himself. "Honestly? A bit like you-stubborn as a mule."
Nathalie grinned. "She must've been quite the handful."
"You don't know the half of it." He leaned forward, recalling a memory. "She actually rode to my encampment in the middle of the night to tear my brother a new one because the war was keeping me from her for too long!" He laughed heartily, putting his hand on his knee. "Yeah, a bit like you; stubborn, beautiful--"
"Beautiful?" Nathalie raised an eyebrow. "I think the whiskey has gone to your head, Your Grace."
"Vampire or non I'm not blind...my lady." Perhaps that was it-she simply reminded him of his wife; that had to be the explanation. The alternative was unheard of and he wouldn't dare speak it aloud; to say it would make it real.
"...Thank you." As much as she hated to admit it, he was hard to look away from as well. He looked well built under that shirt, his broad shoulders causing it to hang just right. His face was gaunt but that only brought out his sharp features, making her inwardly roll her eyes. So what if he was a dish? He was still a raging prat and an overbearing egomaniac. Was she really mooning over him just now?
Yes.
Gaspard grunted in response as his mind wandered. As most inebriated people do, he began to tell another story. Nathalie listened intently, her chin resting on her hand. No wonder he missed his wife, his daughter was so much like her. This war cost both sides so much. She wished Cain would give up this vendetta; she tried to convince him for years only to be ignored. He said the world would be better off without them; that they're all just animals. But as she sat across from this one...this broken yet resilient man, now she wasn't so sure he was right.
After he'd finally run out of stories Nathalie got up to make herself another drink. Gaspard almost nodded off, stirring awake at the sound of bags unzipping.
"What are you up to, little vampire?" he called. With her vow not to leave she couldn't go anywhere far; they were stuck with each other for as long as it took to get this done.
Nathalie grabbed his bag and angrily tossed it at his feet. "Don't call me that-You didn't stop at the butcher's!"
"Hic! And?"
"I'll need to feed!" she shrieked.
A sobering thought if he ever heard one. "Zut Alors..."
****
"I said I was sorry! What else do you want from me?!"
The pilot announced they'd hit a storm and there would be some mild turbulence. He'd suggested they strap in, but they were arguing so violently he doubted they heard anything he said.
"You--bloody--bastard!" A launched glass punctuated each of her words.
He ducked her barrage of glasses, shielding his face from the pieces that exploded. "Damnit woman that was a Steuben!"
"And you are stupide!" she cried, mocking his accent. She quickly grabbed another glass, ready to fling it at him. Gaspard mentally kicked himself for forgetting it, but his mind had been otherwise occupied.
Having had enough of her tantrum he ran around the bar and grabbed her arm as she cocked her arm back. "Would you stop?! I'll get the cuffs out again..."
She scowled at him, clenching the glass in her fist. "I should've never put you on that horse...wouldn't be in this mess..."
Is that what happened? He frowned as he tried to recollect the events of that morning, the morning he became a king but drew nothing but blackness.
"Tell me what happened that day." he demanded.
"I'm not telling you jack shit!" she screeched, snatching away from him. Her vow prevented her from leaving; she was stuck with him until this deal was done. She snarled while taking a step back, placing the glass on the bar. "Am I supposed to feed from the pilot?"
"Hang on," Gaspard grumbled. He looked over at her, seeing one and a half vampires. "You're not biting me." he declared-He didn't want to make that mistake again.
"As if I wanted to." Nathalie slid the glass down the bar towards him. He placed the glass under his arm and sliced it open again, crimson quickly filling the glass. She couldn't have chosen a bigger glass; might as well have pulled out a punch bowl. He grabbed a napkin from the bar and held his arm high, snatching the first aid kit off the wall.
"Does that please Her Majesty?" he remarked, swaying from the copious amounts of alcohol and blood loss. Once he'd ensured the shutters were closed, he bandaged his arm and swung his head under the doorframe to the bedroom. "Wake me up when we land."
Nathalie waved him off. "Yeah, yeah."
Sleep took him with ease, Gaspard lightly snoring within minutes as he stretched across the bed. Nathalie stared hard at the glass before she downed it ravenously. Something about his blood...something in his taste that caused her own to boil. She licked her lips greedily; she'd make it a point to pay extra for a Lycan donor once this was over-their blood was...electrifying.
Nathalie hopped off the stool and the turbulence sent her tumbling by the chairs. Her vision blurred as she staggered to her feet...she was drunk! She knew she had a few shots of absinthe but...damn that werewolf! He'd been drinking like a fish since the plane took off; now they were both three sheets to the wind.
She stumbled to the doorway of the bedroom and spotted his sleeping figure sprawled across the bed. "Garou! Psst! Gaspard!" Nathalie slurred, a piss poor attempt at a whisper.
Gaspard snored loudly, his head swimming in whiskey. He'd managed to finish the entire decanter of whiskey and some of her absinthe; he was wasted. His body spread out like a starfish across the bed and Nathalie stomped her foot in frustration; he took up all of the space! Once he double snored, ensuring he was out like a light, she crept over to the edge of the bed and gently moved him enough to curl into a ball beside him. Big lummox!
****
September 1520
Château de Chinon
Touraine, France
Orange and red leaves swayed in the breeze on that cool, sunny morning. Dew misted the grass as the sun rose above the trees, clouds giving way to the burgeoning rays. The whitewashed walls of the castle welcomed the light that poured in through the tall glass windows. Guards exchanged patrols, the shuffling of boots echoing down the corridors.
"Looking for something, Your Grace?" Marie stepped into the study, the doors pulled shut behind her. Her overcoat shone a deep blue of the finest silk, cloth of gold outlining it to enrich its color. A golden kirtle to match, tiny stars stitched into the fabric. Her hand ran over the back of the chairs as she strolled over to Darien, looking over his shoulder at the map. "I don't think I've ever seen you look at anything that seriously in your life." she observed.
"Ha ha." Darien feigned a smile before turning back to the map. His green doublet strained at the sleeves as he folded his arms, the ties stretched thin. "I'm strategizing."
Marie studied the map and its pieces. The wolf pieces were theirs, arranged in a triangle on the board facing off against an entire line of snake pieces standing as the daemon force. Darien moved the snake pieces until they formed the same triangular shape; two arrowheads pointing at each other. She looked at him, his brow furrowed deep in thought as he scratched the side of his bearded face. So serious.
"If I may, Your Majesty?"
Darien gave a curt nod, anxious to see what she could achieve that he couldn't. "The leeches are outside of Berlin and Gaspard has to sally out to meet them. I'm debating if I should send them now or wait until our reinforcements arrive from Cologne."
Marie simply plucked a piece off the board and held it up to the light. "You're looking at things from a rather...penetrative point of view, Your Majesty."
He blinked at her in confusion, fighting back a growl when she grabbed the piece off the table. "What do you mean?"
She gestured to the snake pieces. "They're already on the march towards us, no?"
He nodded.
"So let them." She moved the wolf pieces back west, closer to their border with Germany.
"Are you mad?!" Darien sputtered, so incensed he forgot how to speak.
Marie merely laughed, putting up a hand. "Sometimes in order to get what you want, you must yield." She moved the center of the pieces back further, creating a crescent shape. "Then your quarry will follow thinking they have you on the run..." She pushed the snake arrowhead forward; their shape left their flanks exposed. "Once you have them in your grasp..." She moved the wolf pieces around the sides, surrounding the snake pieces. "Slaughter them all."
Darien looked on in awe, a grin creeping onto his face. "Heh...well done." He knocked the snake pieces over. "You'd make a formidable general, Majeste."
"The gods try to keep things fair," Marie smirked as she turned to face him. "So I've been told."
"Haha!" His laugh belted out before he had the chance to stop it. As his laughter died down to sighs, he couldn't help but take note of how her hair snared the sun in its grasp, a gilded halo around her. His breath grew shallow at how her freckles dotted her cheeks, and it caught in his throat when he noticed a soft blush begin to rise. Her eyes were a soft grey as she met his gaze, her brow slowly furrowing the longer he stared.
"Something wrong, Your Grace?" she asked, her voice melodic to his ears.
****
Lightning brightened the sky and Darien woke with a start, gasping for air. The fireplace burned low at the side of him, casting a glow on his sweaty skin. He fell back into his pillows, smacking his face for having the dream again. "Agh shit..." he muttered.
"Mmm did you have a bad dream?" A voice purred from under the sheets. Darien pulled them back to find a different blonde woman there, sleepily kissing at his torso. He laid back and relaxed, staring at his canopy.
"It's nothing," he replied flatly. "Go back to sleep."
"Do you want to talk about it? Most dreams usually mean something." She yawned.
"No need. Besides..." Darien grinned. "I don't remember paying you to talk."
"You're absolutely right...forgive me." She disappeared under the sheets.
His jaw slackened at the heat of her mouth, the swirl of her tongue...the tightness of her throat...His eyes rolled in the back of his head as he bucked into her mouth, making her go faster and faster.
"Nngh fuck..." he growled, guiding her to his rhythm. This one proved to be worth her high price tag; he'd save her number.
He arched up slightly as her cheeks hollowed and his hand flew to the back of her neck, not letting her come up for air. "Marie," he panted. Ecstasy claimed him with a few more bucks of his hips, long moans passed his lips as he spent into her hot mouth. "Ohm...Marie!"