This is a story about Lucian and Sonja, and how they met and fell in love. It ties in to the continuity of my other Underworld stories, but if you've not read them, it won't matter. I don't own anything apart from my own plotline and characters. Please please please review! The more reviews, the faster I'll update. So review, to say you like it, orcomplain about grammar, or give constructive criticism, but flamers will be left to Viktor's mercy (or lack of...)

A man stands silhouetted against a vivid crimson sunset. He's not small, but compact, with long dark hair framing a pale face and intense, wide dark green eyes. His jeans are less than clean, but like the most sumptuous finery compared to what he has worn in his time.

This is Lucian, ruthless leader of the Lycans, sworn to wage an immortal war on the vampires. A strategist, a warrior. And once...a lover.

A girl comes up behind him. She looks about nineteen. In reality she's close on four hundred. She's a Lycan, one of the few blondes of her kind, and very pretty. Her name is Callista.

"Hello, Lucian." Callista practically purrs it.

He doesn't turn. "Callista."

Callista seems to take this as an invitation to come closer. Like a cat stalking her prey, she pads up silently until she is whispering in his ear. "It's late, Lucian," she whispers huskily, and her fingers slowly creep up his arm. "I'm tired…"

Lucian's voice is cold as ice and hard as steel. "Don't touch me."

She ignores him, coming closer, her hand sliding up to his neck. "Are you tired?" she whispers, lips almost brushing his ear. "Let's go…"

He spins around, grabbing her wrist in an iron grip and wrenching it off his neck. His eyes meet hers and they blaze. In a voice of barely contained rage, he snarls, "I said - "

She breaks away, unable to face his furious gaze, and beats a retreat so hasty she is all but running. Lucian doesn't watch her go. He's shaking, rubbing his hand up his arm. His skin seems to burn wherever Callista touched him. All his reserve, his self-control, the perfectly constructed façade he wears to face his pack has crumbled in an instant and the pent-up emotions he has held inside for seven hundred years break free.

The great Lycan leader sinks down to the floor and rests his head on his knees, tears trickling down his cheeks. His fingers find a gold pendant hanging on a gold chain round his neck, incongruous next to his scruffy clothing, and he brings it reverently to his lips. "Sonja, oh Sonja…my poor sweet Sonja…" His eyes glisten with tears as he watches the crimson sunset. "So long ago, but I don't forget. I don't forget you or any of it, my love." On his pale cheek his tears shine red as the blood from the wounds on his back.

"I don't forgive. And I don't forget."

Around seven centuries earlier

Below the Vampire fortress

"It hurts, Serena," Araiden moaned.

His sister rolled her eyes, but not without sympathy. "Well, it will, Raid."

A voice from behind them said dryly, "Look on the bright side. Could have been a whipping."

Serena sighed and looked heavenward. "Shut up, Lucian. You're not helping."

This is an ordinary family of Lycan slaves. Or rather ordinary for now. Serena, tall, green-eyed and sarcastic, with tangled light brown hair falling all over her face and shoulders. Her little brother Araiden, lanky and big for his age, his darker brown hair jagged and cut to about shoulder length. Serena's mate Kieron, hooded eyes surveying all he saw with caustic humour, bright auburn hair appearing dark brownish red in the gloom and the dirt. And Lucian, Serena and Araiden's orphaned cousin and adoptive brother, by far the smallest in the family, but strong and intelligent.

Araiden was lying on his front on the floor, shirtless, his back a mass of livid bruises spreading from his waist up to his shoulders. It looked like he might have a broken rib on the left hand side. It was lucky for him and many other Lycan slaves over the years that Serena was a healing woman. She was bent over him, feeling for any broken bones. Lucian was sitting in a shadowy corner of the tiny, filthy room, hugging his knees to his chest like a young child, green eyes alert. Watching with typical black humour, Kieron leant against the wall opposite Lucian.

"So just what were you doing again Raid?" Kieron asked in a slightly amused voice.

Araiden groaned. "I was nicking some of those little pies from the kitchens. Ow," he yelped as Serena touched a particularly nasty bruise.

"Why," she asked in a voice layered with a sort of patient contempt, "is it that you feel you have to do these stupid things? I hope it's not to impress anyone because it does not impress me."

"It was for Eva – ouch – you know, Lucian's friend who's pregnant?"

Kieron sniggered and raised his eyebrows at Lucian suggestively. Lucian looked very hard at his sister's mate, until Kieron started fidgeting. "Actually, Kieron, Eva lives with Dean. And anyway Raid, why did you nick those pies for Eva?"

Araiden frowned, and Serena sighed again. "You don't know, do you?" she snorted, and said, "I'm surrounded by idiots!" She looked at her brother's back again and winced. "Hey, Lucian, come have a look at this – and bring that jug of water while you're at it."

Lucian padded over with the jug, and peered at Araiden's bruises. "As I say, could have been worse, but not much from the looks of things." He shook his head in exasperation. "If you're going to steal food that's fine, but don't get caught for heaven's sake. I mean what did you expect?" Serena took the jug off him and tilted it so Araiden could drink. Her mouth twitched and she looked sideways at her adoptive brother.

"You know Lucian for all Jude thinks you're the one who'll lead the uprising against the vampires, you don't seem exactly alight with rebellious fervor," she said wryly. Jude was the oldest Lycan in the fortress and the spiritual leader of the slaves. He was truly ancient but still sharp as a knife, and he had a deep respect for Lucian, whose parents he had known well.

The younger Lycan frowned at Serena. "I'm not," he said succinctly. Across the room, Kieron spat loudly.

"Well, come on Serena," he grinned sarcastically, "The boy never gets a word in edgeways, here or at the meetings, not with you around."

She looked narrowly at her mate. "He never gets a word in because he never tries," she said sternly.

"And that's 'cause he knows he won't be able to 'cause you won't let him," Kieron pointed out, and added wryly, "Sweetheart."

Serena glared. "Shut up, Kieron."

Kieron looked at Araiden and Lucian wide-eyed for once. "See what I mean?" he said. Lucian shrugged and muttered something inaudible, and Araiden just rolled his eyes. Serena could be somewhat overpowering, and her brothers no longer even bothered to try to argue or interrupt her – it was pointless. She was known to all the Lycan slaves not only for her healing skills but also for her rather authoritarian manner.

"Come on, let's have a look at that rib," Serena muttered, rolling her brother onto his side. She felt his ribcage, and nodded in resignation. "Uh-huh. You got a busted rib there, Raid. Not much for it except try 'n' rest up and keep out of the way of vampires if you can, which I doubt."

Lucian grinned to himself at Serena's last comment. It was true. Araiden was a trouble magnet.

The Vampire fortress

Sonja's chambers

"Sonja, how on earth do you manage to get your hair so tangled?"

"It's not tangled Ymogen, it's wavy."

"Well then riddle me this darling: why is my brush getting caught in your hair if it's not tangled? Your hair, I mean, not the brush."

"Because that's not a brush, it's a comb."

"Where I come from, sister, we call this a brush."

"We come from the same place, Ymmy, and I'm telling you that's a comb."

"It's perfectly fine with my hair."

"That's because your hair is straight. Mine's wavy."

"No, it's tangled."

"Both of you pack it in," Winona burst out.

Winona, Ymogen and Sonja were sisters, the three daughters of Viktor and his wife Janine. The eldest, Winona, had her father's blond hair, and her mother's dark blue eyes. Sonja too had blonde hair, however her eyes were bluish grey like her father's. Everyone said how much Sonja looked like Viktor, and how Ymogen, the middle sister, looked like Janine with her sleek thick black hair, round pale face, and indigo eyes. Winona and Ymogen were tall like their father, but Sonja was more on the petite side.

At the moment, the sisters were gathered together in Sonja's chambers. Ymogen was brushing Sonja's hair, and Winona was reading on the window seat. The elaborate drapes were pulled closed against the light – dawn was coming soon.

Ymogen paid no attention to Winona and kept dragging her brush none too gently through her younger sister's hair. "Honestly Sonja, what has that maid of yours been up to?" Without waiting for a reply, she continued, "Whatever it is, she's no good. Even my maid – and heaven knows she's no prize – could do better than this. It's a complete mess. Just look at that Winnie, it's awful."

Scowling, Sonja retorted, "She hasn't been up to anything. And for your information Ymogen, my Roseanna is the best maid I have ever had and I wouldn't swap her for the world."

Neither Winona nor Ymogen paid their sister any attention. "Well honestly," Winona tutted. "That's not good enough, is it? I mean to say, it shouldn't have to fall to a vampire to do these things should it?"

"Absolutely. It's disgraceful, absolutely disgraceful…"

"No-one is forcing you to brush my hair," Sonja said tartly. It always irritated her when her elder sisters had conversations over her head like this.

"It's perfectly fine if you happen to enjoy doing her hair, and I know you do Ymmy, and I do too, but that's one thing, and actually having to get all the knots out – well that is something else entirely." Winona's eyes were narrowed and her arms crossed.

Ymogen shook her head. "I know. That's the maid's job, that's what they're there for, isn't it? But then again," she continued with a dark light in her eyes, "she's only a Lycan –" she said it like the worst possible insult, " – only an animal, so we can't expect the world now can we?"

The two older sisters exchanged contemptuous looks. Sonja felt queasy. She always felt sick when her sisters talked like this about the Lycans. Sonja knew they were just vermin slaves and as a vampire princess she needn't even think about them, but still…she couldn't help feeling they were people. Her maid Roseanna was nice enough, and her almost-friend.

Winona's voice cut into Sonja's reverie. "That's still no excuse. I mean to say –"

"Oh I know," Ymogen said, and her face lit up with a nasty, vindictive smile, "if you want my opinion, or if you, Sonja, want my advice, I'd get rid of her – send her back to those cellars. There is no excuse really, is there? But that's not to say –" and her smile became truly evil "– that you can't teach a Lycan a lesson with a good lashing. Or a hairbrush," she added with a smirk at Winona. The eldest of the sisters was somewhat notorious for having discharged a maid who'd failed to please in a rather spectacular way. She had hurled her hairbrush at the unfortunate slave with all her vampiric strength. The back and the handle of the brush had been marble, and rumour had it she'd fractured the unsatisfactory maid's jawbone.

Sonja felt like hitting her sister for actually joking about that. Not that this was anything terribly new to her. Sonja and Ymogen had never really seen eye to eye about…well, anything really. The way Ymogen ran hot and cold, and shamelessly manipulated people, annoyed her sister, and she also hated the way Ymogen was unnecessarily cruel and vindictive towards the Lycans. That said, Ymogen wasn't exactly enamoured with Sonja either. She thought her little sister was a spoilt brat, and an idiot.

"I'll tell you what," Winona said suddenly. "Sonja, I'll tell you what you want."

"Thanks very much," Sonja muttered sarcastically. Her sister gave her an irritated glance.

"You want another servant, you do. A male one."

There was a slightly choked noise from Ymogen then: "Well I've got one, and he's damn useless – " Winona murmured language, darling, language and Ymogen ignored her " – but, that said, I suppose if you can get a good one – don't slump Sonja, it's awfully common – they'd be more use than those wretched maids."

Grinding her teeth, Sonja hissed, "I have told you time and again Winona, I'm fine with just my maid." Tilting her head back so that she got a good look at Ymogen, she said tartly, "And for the last time Ymogen, Roseanna – "

Snidely, Ymogen said to Winona, "Good lord, she even knows it's name."

"Oh, shut up! You know your maid's name perfectly well, so don't come all hissy with me. And Roseanna is a wonderful maid and I wouldn't get rid of her for anything!" Sonja snapped. Ymogen's cheeks coloured slightly.

Placatingly, their sister held up her hands. "Calm down, the both of you! Ymmy, don't be so nasty about our sister." Their eyes met, and Winona's glinted. "And Sonja, I didn't mean anything by it, just that it's always useful to have another pair of hands round the place. And you must be so lonely up here, these rooms are right at the top of the tower. Don't you think?" Her voice was softer than usual, which meant she was trying to persuade her youngest sister.

Sonja thought about it. It seemed quite reasonable. "Well, I suppose so. I'll have a look round," she said mildly. Winona could be very persuasive.

For anyone who's read my 'Huntress and Haunted' fic and is getting annoyed about how long I take to update: stick with me! Chapter 3 is in progress, but I've had a computer virus lately which messed up my files...but Chap 3 will be up I will not let you lovely people down!