A/N: Big thanks to my two reviewers. Reviews mean the world to me. You have no idea how happy they make me. So, keep the reviews coming. Please.
"I give you, at parting
A last light,
Forget-me-not...
Then our fate overtakes us
Forgive me, stay by me"
- Eisbrecher, "Vergissmeinnicht" (translated from the German lyrics)
II. Embrace
Vanja followed the map she'd found in her mind when she'd woken. It was his invitation to her, obviously. Not just a way for her to find him, but his way of extending trust. An extremely daring move on his part. One that had made her even more curious about him. Here he was, giving her detailed directions to his location, when she had made no promise whatsoever to meet him, or even to keep his visit secret from her colleagues. She could hand his location over to Red and the others as easily as she could explore the location secretly, by herself. Of course the latter was what she would be doing. She was a solitary creature, after all.
She'd felt terribly, disgustingly human that night as she fussed with herself over what she should wear. She doubted he'd care, of course, but she found herself unable to help it. By the time she'd reached an ensemble consisting of a leather skirt and a lacy top, both black, her mind was saying "fuck it," and she ceased to care. She felt that the clothes were either going to make a very good or very bad impression. Upon reflection, she realized she truly had nothing riding on what Nuada thought of her. It wasn't like she was looking for a way out of the BPRD. She'd be just fine if she never saw Nuada again. But what of his talk of life - the life he claimed he could give her? Her emotions were at war, to say the least.
As Vanja made her way through the streets, she thought of what Nuada inevitably wanted. The Golden Army. She knew the stories. Knew that his plan would ultimately be to war with the humans, to take back this world. Honestly, she couldn't say she was too adverse to the thought. It wasn't a stretch to think that this world would be better in the hands of the Bethmoora Elves - the "sons of the earth" than in the hands of the humans.
And she knew the myths, too. A Finn, after all, she knew her Norse paganism. She knew that the myths told of elves as fertility gods. If that was true, then, of course, what Nuada told her about giving her "life" made sense. What was raising the curiosity levels in her mind was the technical part of it. How did it work? Her curiosity led her like a magnet through the streets and through the hidden entrance to the "troll market."
She remembered with a smile that Red and the others didn't think this place existed. Red had even looked for it specifically once - in his way of looking for things, of course, which left most things overlooked. It dawned on her suddenly that the others didn't even know about Nuada yet. They were still trying to figure out the "tooth fairies." Vanja chuckled. Well, that was one mystery solved. Obviously it was Nuada behind that. She occupied her mind straightening out what the others knew, and what she knew in comparison, and just how much she wasn't quite sure yet that she wanted them to know. As she neared where she knew him to be, all the facts fell from her mind and she was overwhelmed with all her old questions again. Questions only he could answer.
Her curiosity drove her, along with a growing sense of something that, for the first time in her existence, she didn't want to admit. Lust. Intrigue. Maybe romance. Maybe love. Maybe not… Usually it was very easy. She was a woman, men were men. Even if they were vampires, they were still men. But when her opposite was no longer a man, when he was an elf, it was surprising how changing a few letters changed the whole picture. Changed her feelings from confidence to doubt when it came to the opposite sex. Besides, Nuada seemed the kind who would be too easy to fall for, and maybe that was the simple change that made her suddenly not want to admit the desire to herself. Maybe it was a simple case of playing hard to get. And maybe it was that his offer seemed too out-of-the-blue and too simple to be without any strings. She had to get to the bottom of it, to figure out what he really wanted. Until that time, she'd have to put the lust on hold.
Vanja moved tentatively toward a small stairwell set into the paved street. Tiny two-headed creatures ran to and fro around the stairs, as if waiting or keeping watch. Vanja knelt gracefully to get a look at the creatures. They didn't seem surprised by her presence, in fact they spoke to her, but not in a language she could understand. Since the little things didn't understand English, or any language she knew for that matter, she couldn't translate their words by searching their minds. But one thing she could get from their minds was Nuada. He made his home just below these stairs.
She took a deep, very unnecessary breath to try and steady her nerves, but nothing she could do would be able to calm her emotions. She felt that strange disgust again. Knowing that there were so many human characteristics she'd retained for three centuries. What would Nuada think? Vanja shook it off and forced herself into bravery as she descended the stone steps.
The stairs emptied into a dark, cavernous room, most of it unlit. The only light was from lamps surrounding him, and a fire slowly dying on a small stone hearth. There was a little alcove under the stairway, the small space almost disturbingly contrasting the rest of the area. The little room was brightly lit, though with soft, comfortable light, and furnished with simple but elegant, luxurious-looking bedding. And this is where he sat, eyes closed and posture flawless, looking to be in meditation. Vanja raised an eyebrow in curiosity, crouching inside the alcove.
"Vanja," he stated suddenly in greeting, his face relaxed and expressionless, his eyes still closed.
"Nuada," she answered back, an intrigued smile on her lips at their new apparent first-name relationship.
"Please, make yourself comfortable," he invited, still statuesque.
Vanja moved deeper into the small room and sat down a few feet from him. As soon as she was comfortable in her position on the soft bedding, he opened his eyes and let his lips form a slight smirk. She had to hold back the urge to gasp. She still could not fathom his beauty. Even now, even here in this place that was so far away from his home, where he looked so out-of-place, where he looked like the undead rather than the lively creature he should be, he was still so beautiful.
"I am pleased you came. Cormamin lindua ele lle," he said suddenly, as if confessing something.
"My heart sings to see thee," was what he had so poetically told her in his Elven tongue. He let her pull that from his mind in her own language. What inspired the sudden bout of romanticism or the lapse into his native tongue, she did not know. She gave him a touched but puzzled expression in return. Seeing the look on her face, he briefly averted his eyes, a strange show of embarrassment. The awkward display of affection he'd just attempted to show her was so sweet and touching that Vanja had to resist the urge to kiss him. She offered him her kindest smile and he seemed to understand.
She wondered if his progressively gentler behavior with her was part of some kind of plan. She remembered the previous day, just as the sun was rising, when he'd visited her. His attempt to intimidate her, the rough way he'd handled her, the way his voice was almost threatening. And then he gave her that beautiful dream, confusing her with his kindness. And now confusing her further with a strange greeting. Could it be his way of making first impressions - to show a fierce side first, then slowly show a softer side? Could it simply be a voicing of honesty? Perhaps he was happy to see her. Or could it be his own version of a "good cop, bad cop" routine? If intimidation doesn't work, try kindness? Vanja didn't know what to think.
"I hope that we can be honest with each other, now that I am here," Vanja ventured, her voice soft.
"I will always be honest with you," he replied quickly, his voice low and just as soft, but forceful, as if defending something very dear.
"I…would like to believe that," Vanja continued slowly. "But your…offer to me. It's incredible. I have a hard time thinking that it is without any conditions. That there are no 'strings attached,' so to speak."
"Is the requirement of your aide in the destruction of the human race not enough of a condition for you?" Nuada asked, seeming intrigued.
"When one is immortal it is just as easy to break alliances as it is to form them, wouldn't you agree?"
"Yes," he agreed, smiling. "So I take it that your worry lies in a more personal place."
"Exactly. You've said you'd give me life, said you'd make me your queen, intimated that I could even bear your children. But why? Why court a human woman, when you could have one of your own kind?"
"You are far from human, Vanja."
"Not so far," she argued. "I was a human. I think like a human, feel like a human. I am human. The only thing separating me from them is hunger and a beating heart."
"You have powers, great gifts," he reminded her, seeming only to do so in order to see what she would say.
"Unnatural ones. I wasn't born this way. Vampirism is not a birthright…"
"One's path means little in comparison to the destination; what one can achieve."
"Some would disagree with you," Vanja continued to argue.
"I disagree with you," Nuada reminded, leaning toward her ever so slightly.
Vanja smiled. Could it be that he saw greatness in her that she did not see herself?
"It doesn't matter that I was born a prince and you were born a peasant. That my abilities were given to me at birth and yours at death. What matters is what you have done, who you have become. You could not be less human in my eyes, Vanja. A human is weak, filled with greed and disloyalty, a liar. Your will is strong, you are honest, and you are driven by something far beyond possessions and wealth. To put it simply, you impress me. You intrigue me."
Nuada's face was close to hers now, his fingers softly caressing her cheek, warming her cold skin. His breath so sweet that she had to fight to keep her eyes from closing in desire to savor it.
"I wish I could know if you were using me," she whispered pleadingly, finally speaking exactly what was on her mind.
"Using you for what? What is there that I could use you for that cannot be simple desire? What is there that I would not want you for anyway? A queen, a companion, a warrior to fight by my side. These are not things I would simply 'use' you for," the striking honesty in his eyes was something Vanja could not ignore, and now she was watching him intently, searching him as thoroughly as she could while he spoke.
"You were my choice," he continued, "I am yours. I don't want you as a 'spy,' if that's what you're really asking. I would never ask you to betray for loyalty."
"The world can burn, I don't care. The humans can die. But I won't hurt them," Vanja told him sternly, surprised at her own conviction, surprised at how strongly she honestly felt for her still-new friends at the BPRD.
"Then I will never ask you to. What I offer you, as I said, is a place at my side, not at my feet. As a queen, you are my equal, not a slave. I do not command you."
Vanja laughed softly. "It's a hard thing to believe coming from…male royalty," she replied. She'd certainly seen her share of kings, spent her share of time in their company.
"Human royalty, maybe. I think you'll find my court more integral," he reminded her confidently.
As they talked, he had kept his hand on her. His fingers on her cheek, in her hair, on her neck. She had acclimated to his warm touch. And as a small silence began to fall, she couldn't help her desire to return his touch. Vanja's hand moved shyly to his face, her fingers first brushing through his hair, then daring to trace the lines of his face, the scars or…whatever they were. She wondered. The wonderment was exciting, to touch a creature she'd never before encountered. An elf. Something new. This offer of his was sounding better by the minute.
Rationality told her that she needed to get out of here and think this over. Think about what he was really asking her. Think about all the things that would go along with what he said. All the things he didn't say. Because being here with him, it was intoxicating. She couldn't think straight here. All that was rolling around in her mind was the word "yes." Yes, I'll be your queen. Yes, I'll help you destroy mankind. Yes, I'll betray anyone for you. She had to get out of here.
But then he kissed her. And she couldn't move. And all too quickly in comparison to their relatively slow physical relationship, she was on her back on the soft blankets, and he was on top of her. Sensation and emotion and sheer intoxication was overwhelming her completely. All her senses were bombarded. She twisted her fingers in his long hair and he ran his hands over her bare legs.
Then her cell phone rang. She broke her lips away from his with a gasp, as if she needed air. She hastily moved her hands between their bodies, coaxing him to pull away from her while she dug her phone out of the small pocket of her skirt. She steadied her voice before she answered.
"Hello?"
"Where are you, Van?" It was Liz.
"Sorry. I slept in. What's up?" Vanja tried to make her voice casual while her eyes bore into Nuada's, hovering above her.
"That new agent is coming in tonight. They want everyone to be there."
"Oh, yeah. Alright. I'll be there in a few."
As usual, Liz hung up as soon as she'd gotten her message across, without saying goodbye. Liz wasn't one for pleasantries, and tonight Vanja was glad for it. As soon as she shut the phone, her lips were back on Nuada's in a passionate kiss.
"I have to go…" she told him, still lying underneath the weight of his lean body.
He gave only a small nod before rolling off of her, ducking out of the alcove, and standing, all in one fluid movement. Vanja followed him, watching him stare into the darkness. She moved close to him, took his face in her hand, opened her lips to speak, but wasn't sure what to say. They stood in silence for a moment, both with things on their minds, but neither willing to speak them.
"Tá mo chroí istigh ionat," Vanja whispered finally, in Gaelic. Somehow she knew he'd understand the language. My heart is within you. Her way of letting him know she'd think of him. That, in fact, she knew he would be in her thoughts constantly. She would come back to him. Maybe with an answer. Neither of them could know. For Vanja, it all depended on a balance. Nuada. The BPRD. How one would affect the other. How much one would endanger the other. She was not prepared to lose either. And she hoped Nuada understood that.
Vanja gave him one last kiss, then turned her back on him.
