Alright, I realize I have been actively away from fanfiction for a horrendously long time, but real life simply got in the way, and I was waging a silent war against so many things at once that anything bleeding out of my mental creativity faculty had to take a backseat. So here I am, temporarily peeking in with a short ficlet – the byproduct of a shackled imagination that was inspired by the sudden emergence of a few A/L ficlets out there.

So, here it is – my very own spin-off of Arra and Larten having some sad and sappy (you've been warned!) downtime in between all the fighting and usual banter plaguing Vampire Mountain. This is especially dedicated to SweetLittleOldLady – a kind woman with a penchant for heart-warming Arra/Larten fics, RowanRawr – my inspiration for coming out of hibernation and writing this down before crawling back to my hermitic hole, RoxyPony – one of the most entertaining and talented writers on the DS site, Amela333 – another talented gal who truly rocked my socks off with her wonderful writing, all my beloved reviewers who have taken the time and effort to skim through my ramblings on the site, and anyone else from the old crowd. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Nope, don't own them.

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Melancholy.

There were three things Arra Sails absolutely loathed in Vampire Mountain. One was a certain blonde pacifist with a nasty penchant for grating her nerves. Two was the fact that she had to fight tooth and nail everyday just to earn the respect of her fellow vampires, simply because she didn't have a pair of balls. Three was the idiotic flutter that burgeoned in her chest every time the mere thought of an orange-haired vampire popped up in the deepest recesses of her mind.

Out of all her wistful woes, she'd rank the latter as the worst of the lot. Not only was her heart preening like a lovesick school girl every single time Larten Crepsley caught her eye every now and then, but a mere whiff of the man sent her hormones catapulting off the sensibility ladder.

Think, Arra, think! she yelled at herself, clenching her fists. Stop behaving like an immature child and act your age for once. You're a vampiress of good standing, for the love of the Vampire Gods!

But somewhere in the corner of her throbbing heart was a cleverly concealed pang of betrayal. It was a putrid corner that festered within the depths of her soul, hidden and locked away under the years of pain, guilt and even shame.

She had no idea why Larten had suddenly returned to Vampire Mountain this year, and she was frustrated as it is since he had not bothered to keep in touch with her over the last five decades, even though they shared a mental bond. How many times had she cast out her mental feelers and called out his name, hoping for a response that never came? How many times had she yearned for his touch – for his agreement to continue their mating term? How many times had she wished to see his face every Council – only to be disappointed by scores of other ugly vampires?

The mere thought of talking to him again – feeling his breath tickle her ear and his corded arms envelop her curves in a passionate embrace – struck her numb. No, Larten would never do that. He had made it clear that his precious quest mattered more to him than her well-being. So be it – she wouldn't give a damn if the man choked on his bat broth and asphyxiated to death in front of her eyes.

In fact – she'll be secretly glad if he-

WHAM!

"Argh!"

"Arra!"

Arra careened backwards and stifled a growl as she recognized that overly-friendly tone. For the black blood of Harnon Oan, it just had to be her pet peeve numbre uno.

"I am sorry," Kurda Smalht apologized, running a hand through his unruly blonde locks. "I was preoccupied. I didn't notice you coming this way."

"Then you better stop sticking your nose into those bloody maps so much," Arra muttered, sidestepping the man and sauntering off with a distasteful sneer.

"Arra, wait!"

The black haired vampiress rolled her eyes and paused long enough to growl out a quick, "What?"

"Larten was looking for you," Kurda stated quietly. "He's dining in the halls with Gavner and Vanez. Did you see his assistant, per chance?"

Arra swallowed reflexively and barked out a quick, "No."

She didn't wait for Kurda's next words. Instead, she rushed out of the blonde's sight and slipped through the labyrinth of passageways, her heart pummeling against her ribcage in a frantic cadence.

Larten wanted to see her. Oh Gods, he wanted to see her.

She didn't know what was more mortifying – the fact that the man she used to love suddenly decided to meet her face-to-face after all these years of avoiding her like the plague, or that he enlisted Kurda of all people to pass on that message.

Does it even matter? A small voice niggled at the back of her head. He wants to see you. Talk to you. Maybe even ki-

Shut up, she volleyed back, massaging her throbbing temples.

No, Larten Crepsley simply wanted to meet her – to probably check up on what she's been up to whilst he had been gallivanting with that freak circus around the world. It probably meant nothing.

But Arra's hardened resolve crumbled to pieces the moment she set foot in the grimy hall of Kheldon Lurt. There he was – swathed in crimson from head to toe, his rugged features encased in a day's worth of stubble.

She had forgotten how decidedly handsome he looked up close, and when those jade green eyes skittered to meet her own expectant gray ones across the hall, she could have sworn something in her shattered.

Why did you leave me, Larten? A silent voice cried in her head, mournful and disconsolate. Was I not good enough for you?

Time locked them in a suspended embrace until the orange-haired vampire broke his entrancing stare and excused himself from the table. Gavner looked over at her briefly and gave a cheerful wave, which Arra couldn't bring herself to return.

Larten Crepsley had now tromped over to her at a fluid pace, his cloak flaring behind him like a proud peacock's tail.

"Arra," he addressed her carefully, a tentative smile playing across his devilish lips.

Arra felt her tongue tangle up in a knot. She could only nod at him, completely dumfounded and petrified.

Larten frowned. "I need to speak with you in private. Are you alright?"

The concern on his features was palpable. Somewhere from the depths of her mind, a robotic voice escaped her strangled throat, quiet and uncertain.

"Yes, I'm fine."

Larten merely raised an eyebrow and led her away from the halls. They walked in absolute silence for what might have seemed an hour, but Arra knew that was ridiculous. It had probably been no more than ten minutes.

The orange-haired vampire finally stopped and stroked his scar, watching her reaction carefully. "I know this might seem slightly out of context, but I wish to apologize," he said after a momentary pause, his green eyes burning into her own with such intensity. "I know we did not part on the best of terms, but I was hoping you would forgive me."

Arra stilled, fury surging through her veins like wildfire. Sorry? You abandoned me and now you beg for forgiveness? Her inner vampiress shrieked, seething with rage.

But all the gray-eyed vampiress could do was stand perfectly still and angle her chin up – she simply couldn't utter a word.

"A lot has happened since we went our separate ways," Larten continued, never withdrawing his gaze. "I wish to tell you each and every one of them in due time, but for now I only wish to say this." He paused and inhaled deeply, his gaze burning with heartfelt sincerity. "Arra, I am truly sor-"

"Shut up," Arra interjected viciously. Larten blinked, slightly winded by her sudden outburst.

"Pardon?"

Arra trembled from head to toe, and she knew that once she said it, there was no way to reverse it. "I said shut up," she repeated in a low tone, before walking over towards him and capturing his delicious lips in a wicked kiss.

Larten stiffened for a fraction of a second, but caved in and slipped his arms instinctively around her lean waist. He drew her tightly against his stony chest, his mouth roving over her own in a scorching tang of absolute passion and pleasure as he inhaled the intoxicating scent of her pale skin – a delicious combination of wildflowers and peppermint masked under a thin layer of sweat and earth.

"Oh Arra, how I missed you so much," Larten groaned, parting his lips as her tongue swiped against his slightly crooked teeth.

Arra knotted her hands in his miserably short crop of orange curls, moaning in delight as he stroked her back gently and slipped his hands down to her hips, his nimble fingers teasing every inch of her skin under the thin fabric of her tattered dress.

But just as Larten was sure they would push on further, Arra shoved him away with a desperate gasp, clutching her chest as she filled her lungs with much needed air.

"You truly are a heartbreaker, Quicksilver," she whispered between ragged breaths, her eyes full of hurt and longing.

Larten merely stared at her, a bitter feeling of remorse blooming in his gut. "Arra, I-"

"Save it, Larten," Arra intervened crisply. "What has happened has happened. Vampires do not dwell on the past, lest we learn from them, and I think we both learnt a lesson or two already."

Larten cringed as if she had slapped him, but held his tongue.

And in a single stroke of unexpected luck, Arra Sails held out her hand towards him, a shadow cast over her impassive features. "Friends?"

Larten stared at the outstretched hand and accepted it, knowing whatever feelings he still had for her at that very moment had been stamped down. Arra turned away immediately and left the moment he accepted her handshake, her head held high despite the unshed tears pooling at the corner of her eyes.

Larten merely stood at the end of the passageway on his own – knowing that the memories he had shared with the proud vampiress were nothing more but the shadows of melancholy.

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Horrible ending, I know. But I've been out of touch with my writing for such a long time, that I'm basically tossed back to square on in the romance genre. Nyeh, I tried. Hope someone out there enjoyed it at least! *crosses fingers*