Please be gentle. This is not my first written, but it is the first I have ever posted. Please R&R.
*AN: I have just posted character pics in my profile if your curious!*
Disclaimer: I do not own the Covenant or its characters. I only claim the idea for this story, Claire, Elizobeth and Archard.
The Beginning
Thirteen year old Claire Rousseau sighed as she stared out the back window of her mother's SUV, watching the busy New Orleans city streets slowly transform into the languid Louisiana country side.
Elizobeth glanced into the rear view mirror at her young child.
"He is excited to see you, hun…" she started, trying to mask the pain and sorrow from her voice.
"Yeah, right… If he is so excited, why is this the second… no, third time I have seen him since left us… SIX years ago?" interrupted Claire with resentment.
"There are circumstances… beyond either of our control…" Elizobeth's voice broke as she looked her daughter in the eyes. Those amber eyes, so much like her father… Her chest tightened as she thought of the premise to the day's "visit" to her ailing husband.
Claire rolled her eyes and mumbled a gruff "Whatever", refocusing her gaze to the small trees and bushed flying past her window.
Elizobeth stared at the long road ahead of her. She knew these roads like the back of her hand. So many times she came out here, to the old Rousseau plantation house, to be alone, just the two of them, Elizobeth and Archard. The long nights of talking, the nights of passion…. Those were the happiest times of her life.
Her light eyes darkened and her hands gripped the steering wheel tightly as she remembered the years of heartache and betrayal that would soon follow. How her relatively small world would be shattered by his families secrets, by the century-spanning, long standing pact between the other French families…
"The Covenant." she thought bitterly. About two handfuls of families from Europe and France came to this country 300 some-odd years ago. Half of them stayed in the New England area, while the French eventually ended up here, in Louisiana. She knew the stories all to well. The witch-hunts that plagued the families up north…. Nothing like that ever happened down here,
Thank god.
She had heard, only in passing, of the other families involved in the pact. None of the others exist here anymore; only her family now, only her husband. She was relieved that she never a son. She never thought she would have to worry about dealing with the supernatural, beyond her husband's dealings.
Elizobeth sighed deeply, almost relieved as she pulled in to the long winding drive to the old house. The large plantation house slowly came in to view as they got closer. She slowly came to a stop in front of the large deck separating them from the front of the manor.
Elizobeth unhooked her seat belt as she keyed off the car's engine.
"We're here, Claire." She stated, glancing back at her distant daughter. "I want to you to be nice. You need this time to be with him. He has some things to tell you… to ask of you, before he … passes. That is the real reason we are here."
Claire balked at her mother's last statement. "Passes? He's dying? You brought me here to see my father on his deathbed?!" Claire was beyond angry; partly because of what her mother just said and partly because she was now confused about this situation. Her father, whom she hasn't seen in four years, is now DYING. Should she be angry no one told her, upset even?
"I just wanted you to be aware of what to expect when you go in here. Take a few minutes, sit here and prepare if you like. Then come in… and please try to be polite." Claire watched as her mother left the vehicle and started towards the front door.
Claire remembered what her father looked like when she last saw him. Dark hair, the light skin, his defined features, broad shoulders and confident demeanor, the amber colored eyes. She did not remember a sick man.
Claire wrapped her arms around her torso as she thought of the "good times" she had with her absentee father. The long days spent walking in the fields; picking fresh flowers to bring back for her mother, while being told their ancestral tales. Tales full of magic and mystery, those were her favorite. In the back of her mind, she always knew her father was… different.
She remembered her father leading her into a small meadow where the wildflowers grew unchecked. She remembered the rainbow colors of the butterflies that would mysteriously appear every time they were there. She just knew that Daddy brought the butterflies to her. She never even thought twice about the strange flashes, almost like a ring of fire that darkened her father's eyes. His face was always kind, even when his eyes were as black a charcoal.
"Mon petit papillon" he would say.
Claire grinned slightly at the memory. That was their little secret. The butterflies and the use of his powers. "I was his little butterfly." She thought.
"Mon petit papillon", Claire whispered. "Mon petit papillon". She took a deep breath and ran her hand through her dark wavy hair. She opened the car door and stepped out.
Claire was a little stunned by the house that stood before her. It was much bigger than she remembered. The shutter-covered windows looked like giant eyes staring down at her, intimidating her. She slowly made her way up the half broken steps to the dark, paint-chipped front door.
Claire slowly cracked the door open a bit. She stopped when she heard her mother's voice. She could tell she was nervous … and irritated by the tone of her voice. She peered into the house, seeing her mother pace back and forth in the room off to the left. She could not see her father well from this angle, only the side of his face.
"Ellie," She heard a deep, lightly accented, raspy voice address her mother. "I have to try. I cannot let this power die with me. There are none of us left."
"This… power … is what got you here!" she accused. "And you want to put that on your daughter?! Your 13-year old DAUGHTER!?"
Archard's frail body was racked with hacking cough. "She is strong enough! I've left her my books, THE book. Everything she'd need to know is written in that book. This… is… her… our legacy."
"But it might not even work! And you would have wasted your life for nothing… Archard, please!" Elizobeth begged at her husband side.
"Powers?" Claire thought. "Strong enough for what?!" Claire strained against the door to hear the rest of the conversation. She pressed against the door making it creak loudly. She froze, a silent "o" plastered on her face.
"Claire?" asked her father. "Please, come. I must see you."
Claire slowly opened the door the rest of the way and walked toward her mother. She kept small distance from where her father was sitting. What she saw before her was a fraction of the man she remembered.
His skin was wrinkled and looked like tanned leather. His hair was thin and as white as snow. His shoulders were hunched over and his hands were like white spiders.
"Wha..?" Claire asked in disbelief. "How can this be? This can't be my father!"
Archard reached out his long fingers to take her hand. Claire pulled away quickly, unsure of what he wanted. Hurt flashed across his old, amber eyes. Claire immediately gasped as she looked deep into his eyes, his amber eyes.
He nodded slightly to Elizobeth. "I'll just go wait in the other room…" she responded. Claire looked worriedly after her mother as she silently backed out of the room, apprehension written all over her face. "Listen to him." She mouthed to her daughter before she disappeared from sight.
"Claire," her father started; his voice weak with age. "I'm so sorry you have to see me like this… And with what I have to ask of you." Claire stood silently before him as he continued. "Do you remember those stories I told you when you were little, about my ancestors?"
Claire nodded.
"So you know now that it is all true?" Archard asked gently.
"I think I have always known." Claire whispered.
Archard chuckled at her statement. "You were always perceptive, my dear." Archard was taken by another round of coughing. Claire stepped forward to her father and gently grasped his hand.
"Claire," he continued. "I'm dying. When I die, these powers will go with me. I know I wasn't there for you. I left because I didn't want you to see what there powers were doing to me." He took a deep breath and looked his daughter in the eye.
"I want you to know that I never stopped loving you, mon petit papillon." Tears began to form in the corners of her eyes as her said her name. "Which I why I must ask this of you."
Claire said nothing and waited for him to continue.
"I want to give you my powers. I know you will treat them differently than I, myself, did. I have gathered my most important books for you, they have been sent to your house in the city. You MUST promise me that you will read these books. Memorize them, for they hold the key to handling the powers."
Claire began to shake her head. "I… I… don't…"
"Claire, please. Let this be my last gift to you, please."
Silence.
"What do I do?" she asked, giving in.
Archard sighed with relief. "I just want your permission."
"Fine, you have it." She replied.
"You have to say it." Elizobeth said as she stepped back into the room. "If you really want him to do it, you must say it." The tears in her red-rimmed eyes began to spill over.
"Mom," Claire began.
"Just say it, Claire." Elizobeth ordered.
Claire looked questioningly at her mother and then to her father.
"I give you my permission."
Archard slowly closed his eyes. "Ellie…" he asked. Elizobeth slowly walked over the side of her husband and grasped his cold hand. He asked her to help their daughter after the transfer, keep her focused and remind her constantly about the affects of the powers.
Elizobeth silently nodded and kissed the back of her husband's hand as he began speaking.
"Claire, I do not know how this will affect you. I don't if you will get the full powers right off or if you will have to ascend, like the rest of us."
"Ascend?" Claire questioned.
"Your mother will explain everything after." He replied quickly. "You will be the last of us left, Claire. And if this works, you will be the first as well. The first woman in our bloodline to ever have these powers. The last and the first, my dear."
Elizobeth choked back a sob as Archard cupped her cheek with his hand, one final caress.
Claire looked at him intensely. "And?" She asked, glancing quickly at her mother.
"Once the transfer is complete… I will die. The power is my life force; it will be your life force." Claire's eye widened as he spoke. He continued roughly before she could interrupt him. "You already agreed!"
"But.." she started wide-eyed.
"NO! I can't live like this anymore! I am nothing but a shell." The outburst set off another round of body racking coughs. "I must do this now. I don't think there is much time left, anyway, my dear."
Thunder began to rumble outside the fragile mansion. The sky darkened and cast an inky gloom over the entire study. Only the fireplace's warm glow cast a soft flickering light across the room.
Claire looked around, her eyes slowly adjusting to the dim light. Her eyes settled on her father. His amber eyes were as black a night. "It is time." He said confidently. "Remember, I love you both so dearly."
Lighting flashed across the dark sky, thunder cracks shook the house.
"I will… ". He began. Claire felt the hair on the back of her neck stand on end and her mother gasped.
"You…". Electricity flowed through the air. Elizobeth stood quickly and moved towards the door. Claire attempted to follow but Archard kept a hold of her hand.
"My power!"
So many things happened at once, but it played out in slow motion. Claire was forcefully thrown back from her father; their hands ripped apart in an instant. A bright purple lightning bolt shattered through the side window and struck her in the chest, surrounding her body in a vibrant violet light. Claire's body arched back painfully as violet strings spun themselves through every part of her body, lifting her off the floor.
Claire's screams were almost inhuman, intensifying to almost unbearable point. Archard watched, horrified at what he saw and immediately regretted his decision.
"CLAIRE!" Elizobeth screamed as she ran towards her daughter with the arms outstretched. The violet bands shot out and knocked her unconscious across the room before she could even get close to her daughter.
Slowly, the violet bands moved up Claire's body, weeding through her every cell, infusing her body with the magic of her bloodline. As the light began to fade, so did her screams. Claire slowly began to descend to the floor. The last of the violet bands faded from her body and she reached the floor. Her head lolled to the side, a ring of violet-hued fire blazed in her eyes before turning a deep inky black.
Archard began to feel light-headed and his eyes were heavy. His vision was dimming, slowly becoming blurry. An overwhelming sense of peace because to fill his body and he knew it had worked. His power had been transferred. His bloodline was intact, preserved. His eyes glazed over and he let out his last breath.
It was done.