Approach

By

Anni Re

In the solitude of his mind Viktor sat, his slim form darkening the sheet of glass that was the window, overlooking the plain and the woods beyond. His eyes were closed and his passive face rested on the tips of his long fingers. A death like stillness surrounded him the opposite of his chaotic thoughts. Soon he would take his sleep and Amelia would govern the coven, and after her Markus. For two centuries he would be in blissful ignorance in vaults; but was ignorance bliss? He worried over the world he would find when he awoke, much like the world Amelia would find when she did. The Elder pondered the glory that they had gained, the power he had lost, the love that was stolen from him.

A small sound knocked on his senses as well as on the door. His eyes opened and an eerie light erupted from the electric blue, the light faded, but the harsh color still remained. "Enter," he said softly, no matter how gentle his voice called, the tone still sounded harsh and intimidating. The door opened and his solace glided through the opening. The woman turned her raven-haired head back towards the door and her pale, elegant hand smoothly closed it before turning back towards him. "Selene," he said as she walked towards him.

Selene knelt down on the floor, her head bowed reverently, obediently, submissively, so unlike her predecessor. "My lord," she said.

Viktor extended one of his hands, the other still lightly supporting the side of his face, and took her chin on his fingers and drew her face up to his gaze. Her body rose from the ground with the rising of his hand. He dropped his hand and returned it to its mate and turned his eyes to the window, Selene standing by his side. "Is everything well this evening?" he asked.

Selene too turned his eyes to the wall, which she had just left. "Yes, my lord. Everything is quiet on the wall. Kraven is on watch now." Kraven, the young upstart. Fiery and foolish, not unlike himself.

"Despite your protestations, Kraven would make a good mate for you, my child." Selene's eyes flashed at the side of his face that had not turned to her during his comment, or to her response. A small sense of satisfaction filled him for a moment. He enjoyed inciting her anger, inciting her defiance, it brought back memories.

Viktor once again felt the daily ache of his daughter's departure, the sharp sting of her betrayal, and the murderous contempt towards her lover…the father of her children. Viktor sighed, the thought of his daughter having children of her own still jarred him, children he had seen as adults before they were even born. Strange, powerful children with veins muddied by an animal sire. He growled deep in his chest. Yet, his keen ears noticed a harmony, a higher sound rising from the wall. He followed the soft sound of the collective hiss and saw standing before the gates of his citadel, his daughter's whelp.

Viktor was the only one of his species that wasn't snarling at the approach of the outsider. His mouth was open slightly in stunned amazement, smoothly rising from where he was sitting. His eyes were trained to the man, absorbing every feature of his body her could see from afar. His dark hair gleamed in the light of nighttime's sun, a stark contrast the pale, smooth skin he saw on his arms. Arms that swung back in a graceful arc, morphing into the beast beneath his human façade and leapt over the wall, as if it were the easiest thing in the world.

In that moment the Elder pushed himself away from the window and on his heel he turned, in a whirl of dark robes, toward the door. He heard a second set of steps following him. "Selene, you will stay here," his voice sharpened by an icy coldness, commanded without even looking over his shoulder. The steps stopped and Selene stared at the back as he opened and shut the door with a wooden thump.

Viktor descended, down the steps from his perch to the action below, and deep into the pages of his past with a question burning in his heart. Why was he here? What had occurred beyond his arm to drive this man towards him? How did it come to this? This question demanded more that one answer and both were beyond his knowledge. Once again he pondered his daughter and her over, Sonja. He convulsed at the name in sorrow and in shame, at what he had done, at what he almost did. He analyzed all their time together over the numerous years. When began the silent language laced within their speech, every glance a declaration of love, every touch a caress of carnal passion climaxing in the fatal secret she carried in her womb.

Viktor recalled Sonja as a child far away from the thought of bearing children, of love at all. He brought his infant prize of an otherwise abominable breed, a lycan in human flesh. He laid the pup in her arms, for the bitch was dead by his own hand, and she nursed him and cared for him, much like a doll and she his mother. Like the mother she was now to the man at the wall.

He pushed the doors open and strode in long, solid strides into the courtyard, parting the sea of his kind to see the outsider. And then before he saw him, he heard a voice, like smooth, dark velvet over rugged stone. "I want to see Viktor."

Viktor paused for a moment and then he saw him. His mouth hung open slightly as he watched, his mind once again plodding through the sands of time. The young man moved like his father, like he himself had trained his father, Lucian. He felt through his soul a ripple of rage…and pride, undiluted pride as the man steadily brought down his best Death Dealer low, much like Lucian had time and again when he had trained him.

An idea struck his brain. A cruel curiosity. He opened his palm and gently touched a crossbow in a Death Dealer's hand beside him. The soldier relinquished it and the silver bolt flashed in the moonlight during the exchange. He brought it to his shoulder and took aim looking down the arrow tipped with silver at the head of the hybrid that was his grandson, looming over Kraven, lying prostrate on the flagstones, his dark eyes flashing as he raised his hand for the final blow. Unflinchingly he pulled the trigger and the arrow screamed as it cut through the air.

Faster than sight, almost faster than thought, the hand that was aimed for the vampire twisted at its wrist . Firm fingers wrapped around the arrow just beneath the silver aimed at his temple, bringing it to an abrupt halt.

Perfection.

Antony slowly and smoothly turned his head and stared at the arrow trapped in his vice like grip inches away from his face. He looked down the arrow and up the crossbow into the Elder's face and the hybrid's eyes widened then returned to his calculating impassive stare, as if it were the first time he had ever seen him.

The corner of Viktor's mouth turned up slightly as he brought the crossbow down. Antony stood too, stepping over Kraven in the process, the arrow still held tightly in his hand. Viktor passed the weapon into its owner's hands. He turned and left raising his hand, curling his fingers over his shoulder. "Come," he said, and Antony followed.

Finis