This is finally finished. I really hope all of you, especially those who have been reading since the beginning, enjoy this chapter. I wish I could drag this fic out longer really as it's been great to write. Hopefully I will be back again soon with something new. Thanks for sticking with this even though it's taken so long to complete! ~ bry
Unable to get even a moment's rest, Arra was wasting the last few minutes before heading to the Hall of Princes by tracing the lines in the tiled floor of her cell. It hadn't sunk in yet that she had actually passed the Trials, and she sat and considered her success with no emotion at all. Did this mean that from now on, she was on the same level as everyone else? The majority of Vampires never chose to become Generals or hold any position of authority within the clan, and so the Trials were the only defining test of their character and skill that they ever needed to undertake. She commanded just as much respect now as any other fully-fledged member of the clan, except for those who had decided to prove themselves further. Already, she knew it wouldn't end here. Travelling with Mika on General duties had been some of the worst days of her life, but also some of the best, and she deeply admired the work he did and, in many ways, hoped to be as much like him as possible as she progressed.
Thinking of Mika gave her an unpleasant pang of worry and guilt in the pit of her stomach. She tried to remember exactly what she'd said to him immediately after the Trial, but in the excitement her memory was a little fuzzy – a part of her hoped that somehow she had managed to get across her point to him right then and there, but the rest of her knew that it was only right and reasonable to expect to have a conservation with him about it. The Trials had been such a whirlwind that she had only just had the time to really sit and think about the meaning of his admission, and the questions that arose because of it.
Certainly, she loved Mika. He had guided her through everything in the years since she'd met him, taken a chance on her when few others would have, and provided her with every possible opportunity she could have asked for. Though he hadn't gone soft on her, he had never been brutal or unkind – and she had learned to pick out fragments of affection from his stern front. She loved Mika because she respected him, trusted him, and cared deeply for him – but it was nothing like he thought. In their years of travelling together, she had often thought they made the perfect team; she had thought the two of them so similar back then, but now when she reflected on that it almost made her feel foolish. Her completion of the Trials, her assertion of independence in undertaking them, and spending time with others at the Mountain had been somewhat of a self-actualization process. She was not as stern as Mika, and she doubted she would ever become that way now, even as she matured – and she knew that she didn't have Mika's intelligence or cunning. It had taken a little distance from him to realize that there was probably none of the "kindred spirits" connection between them that she had always imagined after all.
"Are you ready?"
The voice shocked her, and when she looked up the gnawing guilt came back to her in a jolt. Mika looked different to her suddenly; she supposed she had never had any need to pity him quite like this before, and it dented her solid admiration of him. He held out a hand to help her to her feet, and she noticed that he had changed into finer robes for the celebration of her achievements. She had changed too, of course – but only out of necessity, into something no more elegant than her usual training gear. There was something a little pitiful about that, too – he looked so proud of her; ready to parade her around to the others in his best robes.
"Am I late?" she asked, wondering if she had lost track of time and the Princes had sent for her. She allowed him to help her up and then turned away to locate something warm to wear over her shoulders; it wasn't necessary, but it was an excuse not to look at him. She didn't have many items of clothing, and she deliberately took her time in sifting through them over and over again as though making a decision.
"No," he answered. "But I wanted to see you beforehand."
Before she could respond to that, or tell herself to stop being such a coward and get it all over with, he leant in over her shoulder and fished out a long grey cardigan on her behalf. "You've always looked nice in that," he commented, and though she was sure it hadn't been meant to cause such a reaction, the change in the way he spoke to her made her shiver. She took it from him and he casually took a seat on the lid of her coffin while she slipped it over her loose-fitting black shirt. "Do you remember when we had to buy you that?" he asked, nodding at the shirt.
They had been hiding from humans who had figured out their identities after a mistake made by Arra as she fed – she was only just a full-vampire, and she hadn't yet learned to listen as carefully as Mika might have to her surroundings. As a result, she had been confronted by a group of screaming and fainting women who had caught her seemingly draining the butcher dry, blood smudged around her lips. She had escaped them, of course, but a frantic scramble from town to town ensued to escape people who had heard of the two of them. In an effort to blend in a little more effectively, Mika and Arra had discarded their previous garments – in his case, a black suit with a flowing cape that, even to the untrained eye, would have made him look like a Creature of the Undead, and in her case a set of less threatening but equally bizarre pieces that made her look quite unlike any other woman on the street – including a pair of tight black breeches that never were immensely helpful for travelling, and that she currently wore, a long black coat and a pair of high leather boots. They had packed everything they owned away in a suitcase, dressed in plainer more appropriate clothing and boarded a ship heading abroad.
As she thought back on it, she realized they must have looked quite a fearsome pair, all garbed in black. She smiled briefly to show him that she remembered, but then suddenly wanted to reconsider her clothing. Everything on her was Mika all over – the shirt he'd purchased for her, a cardigan that might have originally been his it was so oversized, the breeches he had always encouraged her to wear. She had never realized before exactly how much of her was really him.
Though she hadn't been paying attention, he was already speaking.
"I am very proud of you, you know," he said, smiling up at her as she took several unnecessary minutes choosing a pair of shoes from the two sets she owned. "I knew you had promise all those years ago – but I don't think any of the greats have ever done it better."
"Enough flattery," she said, careful to sound like she was simply embarrassed. Really, the flattery was truly making her skin crawl – he had changed his entire attitude towards her since the last time they had spoken, and it made her distinctly uncomfortable. He no longer spoke to her like he always had, like an assistant and like a friend. There was something different in his voice, as though he already felt that his admission had changed everything between them. Perhaps, irreversibly, it already had.
"I have noticed that you are not as happy here as you were when we travelled," he said, and she thought she noticed a hint of desperation in his voice, as though he already knew that she could never feel the way he did about her. "I would not have liked to be caged in here either, in your position. To that end, I spoke to the Princes on behalf of both of us yesterday. My investiture is not a process that need be rushed; I have realized that maybe I am not ready yet to commit most of the rest of my life to the Mountain. I was considering leaving, for a few years. Long enough to see the world again on our own time, without any of the constraints that will come with being a Prince." He looked up at her for approval and she simply met his gaze, unable to find the words to explain to him everything that was wrong with the situation. "I thought it could be just you and I again, as it always has been."
Before she could stop herself, the overwhelming desire to put him out of his misery was at the forefront of her mind. "I can't," she said, watching him closely for a reaction.
He raised an eyebrow, but smiled at her anyway. "Have you started to like it here?"
"You are welcome to travel if that's what you want," she said softly, wondering if there was a kindest way to break him. "I just don't think the time is right for me to be going with you."
She was certain he understood from the look in his eyes, but he smiled anyway. "It was always going to be your decision in the end," he shrugged. "It doesn't matter to me if you would prefer to stay here."
In the same way as Mika had been protective of her, she had always felt similarly a little protective of him, though not to the same extent. Had anyone ever shown him any disrespect or aimed to hurt him, she had always defended him. It felt wrong, deep down, to know that this time it would be her that caused him the pain. "I intend to leave the Mountain in a couple of months, perhaps maybe even sooner," she said carefully. "But I am not your assistant anymore, Mika. You needn't accompany me."
He held up his palms as a gesture of surrender. "It wasn't meant as an insult!" he said quickly. "Of course you are capable of being on your own these days; it isn't that. Regardless of the fact that you are no longer my assistant, I…" he stopped briefly and seemed to struggle to find the correct way to explain it to her. It was decidedly painful watching him. "I feel we have other reasons to stay together now, though, at least for another fifteen or twenty more years…"
The idea of twenty more years was suddenly unbearable.
"I discussed something else with the Princes, too," he said, standing up in order to take her hands. The guilty feeling was back in her stomach now worse than ever, and she found she could barely look at him, so she kept her gaze focused on his hands as they enveloped hers. "We are not mentor and assistant anymore, Arra – you were right about that. But there is nothing that would make me happier than if you would agree to stay with me another few years – however many you would like – as my mate, instead."
Had she been made of weaker stuff, she might have cried. It was all wrong, and she knew she only had a couple of seconds to look at him or answer him or something before her silence would cruelly do the job for her. She forced her eyes up to meet his and in a moment he was closer than she thought, and one hand was around the side of her neck, but as soon as he bent down to kiss her it was all too much.
"No," she said simply, and instantly regretted it. It had all been happening too quickly, and she couldn't possibly have kissed Mika, he was everything but family to her. It had been the only way to get out of the situation and stop it dead, but as she looked at him she could see him beginning to crumble. Before he could say anything, she took one of his hands again. "I'm sorry, Mika," she said, watching him as he began to struggle to meet her eyes. "I'm sorry I haven't said it sooner and I'm sorry if I've humiliated you; I haven't done any of this to hurt you. But I can't," she said, barely more than a whisper. "I do love you, Mika," she murmured, eyes closed. "But it's nothing like that."
There was a second of weakness where he stared down at the floor and his brow knotted, but then in another second he was back again, as hard and impenetrable as ever. He pulled his hand out of hers and unnecessarily smoothed his robe.
"Is there a reason?" he asked, in a voice that was nothing like the one he'd been using before. Everything else rushed back to her suddenly. She decided in an instant that she couldn't possibly mention Larten.
"No," she said instantly, without thinking. Of course, it was too quick.
Mika looked back at her, distinctly not fooled. "It doesn't matter what it is," he said kindly. "I'd just prefer to be told." When she said absolutely nothing to that, racing through the kindest way to tell him that he would never be anything more than a mentor and a friend to her, and racing to find ways not to mention the fact that she was in love with someone else, he nodded to himself.
"It's Larten, isn't it?" he asked softly. He didn't sound angry with her in the slightest, but when she looked back at him there was hurt and betrayal written all over his face that were much worse.
"I know you won't believe me," she said. "But I'd have made the same decision even if I'd never met him."
It was nothing more than a white lie. In truth, she wasn't sure how it might have gone had she never known Larten, and she suspected that Mika knew that too. She thought back to herself a year ago, and realized that it was more than likely that if Mika had made this admission then she might not have exactly welcomed it or celebrated it, but she probably would have convinced herself that it was the sensible path to take. Before Larten, she might have been able to convince herself she loved Mika.
He shrugged. "It's your decision," he said, in an attempt to sound like he had already accepted her rejection. In the uncomfortable silence that followed, he turned the words over and over in his head, and then before he could do anything to stop it, suddenly they had already slipped out.
"I think I loved you the moment I set eyes on you," he said quietly. "And that was thirty years ago now. Has he loved you even thirty minutes yet?"
There was no easy way to explain to him that it could never matter to her whether Larten would love her as much as he did; there was nothing she could do to explain that she would have sooner been on her own than with Mika in that way for any number of years.
"I'm sorry," she said hopelessly. "If I'd known you felt this way sooner, I'd never have become involved with someone else so quickly. I have not done this to hurt you." She looked at him as he paced in front of her, looking for all the world like that was the last thing he could believe. "You do know that?"
He didn't answer, but that wasn't a surprise. Since the start of her attempting to assert her independence – indeed, since the first time she had ever deliberately gone against his wishes – he had clearly believed that she was rebelling and wished to cause him pain.
"Involved?" he repeated, and shook his head as though the thought was simply incomprehensible. "You must know by now that nobody will ever understand you the way I do." Mika was aware that he sounded petulant and he hated it, but the words were coming out faster than he would have liked and there was nothing he could do to stop himself from sounding childish. "He'll never know you like I do," he said bluntly. "Because you will never allow him to know you as well as I do. You have never trusted someone the way you do me."
The worst thing was that he was right. Arra wasn't sure there ever would be anyone else in the world that would be as close to her as Mika was, and she realized in that moment how desperately she feared losing him entirely. "Just accept it," she said softly, hoping he might go back to the way he was before. More than anything she hoped that there was something she could say that would take it all back to the beginning and erase all of this, but she simply couldn't think of anything that would manage it.
He shook his head again, and it pained her to see him lose his composure when he treasured it so much.
"You know he doesn't love you the way I do."
There was nothing she could say to that. Watching his reactions, she realized that perhaps there had been more to Mika's feelings for her than even she could have imagined. I loved you the moment I set eyes on you. She replayed those words over and over and wondered whether he would ever be able to forgive her. "No," she admitted. "He probably doesn't."
Mika was scrambling for words to make her understand the gravity of the mistake he felt she was making.
"I've given you everything," he said, almost as an accusation. "You are everything to me. Can't you understand?"
Arra felt like taking a step away from him at his change in tone. He no longer sounded like he warranted pity; he was angry now, betrayed and jealous.
"I do," she said, tempted to reach out and touch him. "You mean the world to me, Mika. I've told you before; I will never forget what you've done for me. I will always be there if you need me."
He made a derogatory noise. "But none of that means anything," he growled. "Because you've picked up with a wastrel who knows nothing about you, could never care about you the way I do and likely only wants you for one thing?"
She had never liked Mika when he was angry, and jealousy did not suit him. "I feel guilty," she said, containing her temper when a large part of her wanted to scream that she had done nothing wrong. "But it doesn't change anything. You can't make me feel guilty enough to fall in love with you, Mika," she said, and slipped around him to head for the door. "It just won't work."
He caught her hand before she could leave. "I've seen it all along, the way you think you feel about him," he told her. "I hoped you might realize at some point how wrong you are to dismiss us. He's nothing to you Arra, and you mean nothing to him, not like you do to me – I love you, doesn't that mean anything? Don't you care?"
"Sorry," she said again, one last time, before sliding out of his grasp and heading off down into the tunnels at speed, hoping that he would realize that catching up to her was useless. He called after her once, and though she was sure he hadn't meant it to, his voice broke on the second syllable; he sounded like a broken man, and it made her heart ache to think she'd been the cause. Blinking away the tears in her eyes, she headed to the Hall of Princes in the most obscure way possible, hoping to avoid any well-wishers on her way there.
The official part of the celebration, in which the Princes congratulated her on the completion of the Trials, was over fairly quickly and had absolutely no attendees except for Arra herself – though she did notice Vanez, Larten and Gavner loitering mysteriously outside as if unable to wait even a moment longer for the true celebrations to begin. She was not nearly cheerful enough for the company of the other three vampires on her walk to the Hall of Kheldon Lurt, where the vampires who had supported her all along would gather to raise a glass of blood to her success.
"Sorry to be rude," Gavner said halfway through their journey, addressing Arra. Larten immediately shot him a glare, terrified that he might say something incredibly inappropriate, but Gavner had known him too long to take that seriously. "But you don't look like you've just passed the Trials. You look like you've got the Hall of Death to look forward to. Seriously."
Vanez laughed and clapped her on the back so hard she almost stumbled forwards. The cheerful General clearly had no idea of his own strength. "Shut up, Gavner," he said to the younger man, though it was light-hearted. "I'll be impressed if you have any energy left to jump for joy after you finish your last Trial! Poor Arra's just tired."
Gavner looked a bit bashful and didn't say anything else about it, and he and Vanez continued their chatter for the remainder of their walk, seemingly excited in equal parts about her survival and about the opportunity to drink as much ale as possible in the next short period of time. Larten was not so easily fooled, and allowed the two of them to overtake so that he could have a quiet word with Arra undetected.
"What is wrong?" he asked under his breath, aware that she had been quite obviously fine when she'd left him dazed in the tunnels earlier. She would have said it was nothing, but she supposed there was no point in wasting time when Gavner and Vanez would surely start pestering them again any second.
"Mika," she said, and Larten's face clouded over. She shook her head at whatever assumption he had made. "I turned him down," she clarified, very quietly.
Larten looked distinctly unconcerned by that and couldn't help but shrug his shoulders slightly, which made her roll her eyes. She pulled him aside and they stopped, hoping the two merry vampires in front wouldn't notice.
"He asked me to go away travelling with him for 'fifteen or twenty years'," she explained. "And asked if I'd be his mate – for 'as long as I wanted', apparently."
Larten was looking like this was the last thing he wanted to hear. "And you turned him down," he prompted, wanting to hear that from her again just in case he'd imagined it. He was trying not to enjoy the thought of vicious Mika jilted by Arra who was actually in love with him, but it was surprisingly difficult.
"Well, obviously," she said impatiently, clearly not in the mood to recount the entire story. "But I've known Mika a long time, almost my whole life. I never thought I'd see him react like that to anything – he's never been emotional."
Before Larten could tell her either that he cared very little about Mika's supposed emotions (or that he couldn't really believe in their existence without some kind of proof), Gavner skidded to a halt in front of them.
"Can you hurry up?" he asked, like a child, undeterred even when both of them shot him a glare. "I know you two can't wait to get your hands on each other right, but it's just not appropriate in corridors and the like, alright? So if you wouldn't mind –"
Clearly not particularly affected by her news about Mika, a bright red Larten had chased a screaming Gavner down the hallway before he could even complete his sentence. Arra no longer even felt that she had the motivation to be embarrassed – instead, she strolled ahead to catch up with Vanez, and before she could say anything to him, came face to face outside the doors with Arrow.
For once, he gave her a smile – and for a second, she was fooled into believing he might have been happy about the result of her Trials.
"Have you seen Mika?" he asked, in his typical tactless way, and she almost groaned aloud at the thought that Arrow had known he was planning to ask her all of that and now expected the two of them to mate and run off into the sunset.
Struggling over whether to say yes or no, she blurted a hurried "yes, earlier," and then shifted out of his way to continue walking, leaving her three companions thoroughly confused and a little worried that Arrow might break her arms for being so rude to him in public. Instead, the bald-headed man simply watched her walk, knowing full well what her silence had meant.
Arrow found Mika, predictably, in the same spot his former assistant must have left him in. By the time he arrived, after searching the Games Halls to make sure he wasn't ripping anyone to shreds, Mika looked like it had been a while since he'd moved. He was sat on the lid of her coffin with his hands folded together, looking for all the world like a man who was desperately wondering how to regain his lost pride.
"I saw Arra," Arrow said immediately, seeing no reason to beat around the bush. A tiny amount of him believed and hoped that really, it had all gone swimmingly and Mika had finally got what he wanted. Another, much larger part of him knew it hadn't gone that – and, however awful it sounded, was also relieved. Though Mika wouldn't be able to see it yet, his obsession with Arra had done nothing that he could see apart from make him a laughing stock after an embarrassing fight with Aksel Vonn and give him an awful reputation as a bad-tempered, unreasonable man. It would be better for him, for his relationships with other vampires and for his career, that his focus on her ended for good.
"Not now," Mika growled.
Arrow, as always, ignored him. He clicked his tongue awkwardly and took a seat next to the man he thought of as his brother on the coffin lid. "How did it go?" he asked unnecessarily, and was rewarded with a glare of epic proportions for the question, though Mika did not answer.
"Does that mean it went alright, or does that mean it went badly?" Arrow asked, genuinely unsure. Wondering if a bit of comic relief might be appropriate, he peered around the edges of the lid as a joke. "She's not in the coffin, is she?" he asked, and gave a little chuckle afterwards. Immediately, Mika stood to leave.
"Alright!" Arrow said quickly, standing up to block his exit. "I'm sorry."
The two sat together quietly for a few moments after that, Mika lost in his own thoughts and Arrow unsure of what was safe to say and what wasn't. Eventually, he sighed.
"I know it's never exactly been your strong point," he said at length. "But honestly, I think you should look on the bright side. Even if she hasn't been delighted with the proposal this time, she might come round later. You know how clueless she was; it might have taken her by surprise."
Mika shook his head.
"She thinks she's in love, I think," he said vaguely.
Arrow narrowed his eyes. "With you?" he offered hopefully, and received a punch in the leg that was so hard he thought Mika might have broken one of his bones. Trying to stop himself from crying out in pain, Arrow watched Mika wrestle with himself. The worrying part of it all was that Mika looked like he was in more pain despite the lack of an injury.
"With Seba's assistant," he said, as if he was unable to bring himself to say the name. "You know, the one I hate."
"He is much uglier than you are," Arrow said, in what he hoped was a tone of kindness. Unable to take the insincerity and utter uselessness of his friend's comments and longer, Mika considered trying to explain to him how heart-breaking this had been, how much he loved her and how much it felt like being stabbed in the heart to hear that she had any preference for someone else, finally did head towards the door.
"Where are you going?" Arrow asked before he rounded the corner.
Mika looked back, a grim smile on his face. "You won't understand it," he said bitterly. "But I'm going to raise a glass of blood for her success, like everyone else will be tonight."
Mika knew that Arrow would be looking at him like he was from another universe as he disappeared. It didn't seem to matter, though, how much pain she was causing him – he could not bring himself to think even for a moment that he hated her or that he was not proud of her and was not delighted at her success. All of the resentment he could have directed at her, he supposed, if he hadn't loved her so very much, was directed at the man who had snatched her away from him. Deep down, he knew all too well that one day Larten Crepsley would break her heart in a way that he would never be able to, knowing her the way he did, but even that provided no comfort – she was more precious to him than anything, and the thought of her heartbroken over such an awful, useless man as Crepsley somehow made him even more distraught.
He was too deep in love with her, as he reached the Hall, to begin to blame her for anything but not yet being able to see their relationship for what it truly was. He couldn't bear to look at her as he entered, and the hordes of other vampires who probably hadn't even cared whether she lived or died but had turned up to drink to her success anyway, were probably useful in obscuring her view of him.
Locating a mug of blood, he held it up to nothing in particular and remembered everything, like a flashback – every single moment spent with her, every single time he'd thought I love you and never said a word, every single touch and every glance.
"Cheers, Arra," he said quietly, bitterly, and took a sip.
Though Larten had noticed the dark General slipping into the Hall, Arra had been distracted by Kurda Smahlt, who seemed to be managing for once to compliment her without slipping in an accidental insult. He observed him for a while, losing him several times behind other vampires, and then noticed him sink down onto a bench and rub his eyes wearily.
When Arra had told him about her exchange with Mika, Larten was not particularly ashamed to say that he had not cared. However much he respected Mika, it didn't matter to him that he had lost out – he had manipulated her, blatantly intentionally, and would have continued to for years to come had they never come to the Mountain. The further she had grown away from her mentor the more she had managed to become her own person – and Larten could not and would not allow himself to feel any pity for the man who had controlled her so much that she had known almost nothing of who she really was. His lack of belief in her, too – his own assistant, who faced so much prejudice from the other members of the clan – had somewhat disgusted him. But even looking at the soon-to-be Prince with all those issues at the forefront of his mind, he realized that he had never seen him look so hopeless, even drunk out of his mind in the boxing ring with Vonn. This was different somehow, as though now it was not just speculation that led him to believe that she wouldn't return his affection, it had all finally become real; the years he'd wasted, the amount of love that would come to nothing.
It was difficult not to pity him. Perhaps unwisely, Larten checked that Arra was occupied with a group of drunken older vampires who were reminiscing about the "last time a woman passed these tests", and then slipped undetected across the room and took the seat across from her former mentor.
Mika had finished his mug of blood, and was onto something stronger. He couldn't help but sneer. "She's told you, I suppose?" he asked, and Larten, aiming to be as honest as possible, simply nodded. Mika laughed humourlessly. "Come to gloat then, have you?"
Hoping their discussion might not escalate into aggression at this, the worst of all possible times, Larten aimed for diplomacy. "No," he said, sincerely. "I am sorry for everything that has happened."
Mika shook his head and continued with his drink, as though he intended to try and pretend that Larten simply wasn't sat in front of him.
"I do love her," he said, though he wasn't sure whether that was the right or the wrong way to take the discussion.
Mika snarled back at him. "You don't know whether you do or not," he accused, voice raised enough that a few of the vampires around them turned to observe the oncoming storm. Knocking back the remainder of his drink, Mika pointed a finger at the red-haired man. "You wanted this from the start," he said, and there was a croak in his voice that betrayed his sadness, even if he covered it well with fury. "She was mine all along and you knew it."
Sensing that Mika was not in the mood to discuss it, Larten made his apologies and stood to leave immediately rather than cause a scene that would humiliate all three of them. It wasn't the time to try and be the bigger man and smooth over their feud – perhaps it would be a while until then. As he climbed to his feet and swung one leg over the bench, Mika moved in an instant – so quickly that those around him didn't notice it until after the event – and launched his fist into the younger man's temple, knocking him straight off balance and sending him crashing to the floor.
Though he felt like he might have been bleeding from one of his eyes from the sheer force of the hit, Larten stood immediately as a crowd began to gather. He appreciated that, whatever his intentions, it had been his fault in coming over in the first place. Before anyone could make a scene out of it, especially a bald-headed approaching shape that he identified as Arrow, he mock-laughed and clapped his hands together a couple of times. "Good game!" he said, and at that, most of the crowd turned their backs. "You caught me out, Mika!"
Hoping he had satisfied most of the suspicious onlookers, he strode away to look for somewhere to check the state of his injury – his head was pounding in a way he hadn't remembered it even could, and his vision was completely blurred. Unfortunately, before he could make it outside, a hand on his chest brought him to a halt.
"What has happened to you?" Arra asked incredulously – hardly reassuring him that the injury was not noticeable. She reached a hand up to gently touch the side of his head and he tried his best to be as manly as possible and not flinch when she touched the already reddening bruise.
"…I got punched," he said, mind racing through the blurry haze of the injury for something reasonable to tell her that wouldn't spark even more tension between the three of them. As much as he disliked Mika – more so now that he'd taken his loss like such a child – it didn't seem right to kick a man when he was down, so to speak.
"Who by?" Arra asked, looking around as if trying to locate a brawl. The Hall was packed now, full of rowdy vampires, and so luckily she could not locate Mika in the flurry.
"Some drunken idiot," Larten lied, convincing himself that lying to her wasn't as bad if technically, Mika was a drunken idiot and also it was, unquestionably, for her own good. Before he could go any further, she guided him to a bench and took off her cardigan, ripping one of the sleeves to use to dab at his injuries – there was a cut in the other side of his head, he realized thankfully, that he must have picked up during his fall – far preferable to unexplained bleeding from the eyes.
"That's a shame," he commented, as his vision started to clear and his blinding headache started to dissipate. He nodded at the cardigan she'd discarded. "You looked nice in that."
Rather than describe to him the endless irony behind that statement, Arra simply smiled and shrugged. "It's alright," she said. "I never liked it much anyway."
She tilted his head to each side to examine the damage as she crouched in front of him. "You were just being a baby," she jokingly taunted – though, Larten considered, she more than likely did mean it after all the injuries she'd sustained in the past few days. "You've got a scratch and a black eye." She grinned at him playfully. "Were you just trying to get my attention?"
Though she had gotten the situation all wrong, he couldn't help but laugh at her cheeky smile. Though his head still spun and pounded, he knew they were crowds of thirty or forty strong away from Mika's vision, and couldn't resist a kiss – or two, or three. Sooner than he would have liked, though, she broke the kiss and joined him on the bench. It was either the head injury or the merry atmosphere that made Larten decide to grasp her hand.
"You said to me that Mika asked you if you wished to travel," he began carefully, deciding it might be best to pick his words carefully so as not to offend her. This time, however, he had been too slow – as the second the words were out of his mouth, she was grinning.
"Mhmm?" she asked, still smiling from ear to ear. Larten wondered briefly if he had always been so predictable, or whether she had an exceptional ability to read him.
As he attempted to continue, he could feel his standard blush creeping into his cheeks, and he could feel himself begin to lose the thread of exactly what he had wanted to say to her. "I was just wondering," he said, suddenly nervous. Was she laughing because she thought he was ridiculous, or was she laughing because she was happy? "I do not know what your plans are for the next year or so. It is none of my business what you wish to do with your time, but I would quite like it if…well, I would quite like it if you would allow it to be my business, so to speak. Ah…"
As he completely lost his thread and his nerve, Arra began to laugh raucously, so much that she had to wipe a tear from the corner of one eye.
She shook her head as if she simply could not believe any one man could be so useless at asking a simple question, and then kissed him gently again, careful not to aggravate his headache (though she was sure he probably wouldn't have complained). "Where do you want to go?" she asked simply, and he laughed gratefully for her saving him the embarrassment of having to ask her. He could already tell that for the first few months, she would be doing a lot of this.
"Anywhere," he answered honestly, reaching for her hand. "I do not mind, as long as you will come with me."
It was an incredibly clichéd way to ask her, but it was so classically him that Arra couldn't help but be charmed by his attempt. "I love you," she said softly, cupping his chin, and pressing her lips to his again.
They were interrupted long before they were ready by Paris Skyle, who gave them the look only a wise old man who had seen the beginning of love too many times before could. They sprung apart as soon as they noticed him, but the ageing Prince gave them a smile to show that he hadn't considered them impolite.
"I am sorry to interrupt," he said, but unlike Seba or Gavner, it was not laced with sarcasm – he was genuinely sincere, as he always was. "I was simply hoping to offer my congratulations to you again, Arra Sails."
He sat down on her other side – another vampire had been there a second previously, but had seemingly run a mile in his desperation for the most well-respected man in the entire clan not to see him downing his weight in rum. "I am sure you have heard this many times tonight," he said. "But I was deeply impressed with your performance. I have only one question left to ask you," he said ominously, then held up a hand. "Before I do, though, I would like to make it clear that I do not mean to offend you."
Larten was looking like the world was collapsing around him at the thought of Paris Skyle of all people criticizing her for her mistakes in one of her Trials – was he going to tell her what a monumental mistake she had made in her fourth Trial, or was it something else? Though he could of course never argue with the Prince, he made a silent promise to the Vampire Gods to serve the clan to the best of his ability as long as he lived if Paris Skyle would just please please not do anything, at this stage, to shake her newly founded confidence.
Arra, however, looked intrigued. "Of course," she said, motioning for him to ask whatever he liked of her.
"Do you intend to take the Trials again, in a few years?"
The question hung in the air uncomfortably.
"To be honest with you, Sire," Arra said slowly. "I hadn't actually considered it."
Larten, who was a little more familiar with Paris from his time with Seba, was a little less guarded. "Sire," he began, puzzled. "It is hardly an expectation that a vampire might take the Trials more than once in a lifetime these days, unless they wish to become a Prince – or at least that is the impression I have been under."
Paris nodded. "The only reason I ask you this," he said, continuing to focus his gaze on Arra. "Is because, as I have already told you, I was deeply impressed by your performance. You have not been training long, and you have taken your fair share of risks – but so is the nature of bring a true vampire, and I respect you for that. To that end, I was intrigued to know if you were considering becoming a General one night in the future, and therefore attempting the tests again."
Arra seemed to be at a loss for what to say. Larten, sensing her confusion, responded on her behalf though he felt that Paris was at least somewhat tired of his interruptions.
"I was not aware that one needed to take the tests multiple times in order to become a General, Sire?" he said carefully, not wishing to either make himself look foolish or infuriate the old Prince. Paris, though, was known for his patient, and simply smiled.
"I should have explained," he nodded. "My apologies to you both. As you know, the Trials must be completed with all of the stones as part of the draw in order to contribute towards becoming a General. It is an antiquated system, I know, and one that is not entirely fair on candidates like yourself – but I am afraid those are the rules."
Larten had put all of the pieces together quicker than Arra had, but a part of him hoped she would simply smile and say that she'd think about it later. Deep down, he knew that was beyond unlikely, but he could see the whole scene unfolding in front of him and the idea of it made him want to almost sob. As he looked up and prayed once again that Arra might just decide to let it go, he caught sight of the black-garbed, broad figure of Mika Ver Leth approaching.
Briefly, he wondered if the Vampire Gods hated him.
Arra was barely capable of saying anything at all for a moment, but finally managed to string something together, though she wasn't sure she wanted the answer.
"Are you saying," she began slowly and as calmly as possible. "That the set of Trials I just undertook were not entirely complete?"
Even Paris, who was usually unmovable, looked a little confused by this whole exchange. "As you know, Miss Sails," he said, though he was clearly starting to realize himself that there had been a deep misunderstanding. "Three stones were removed for your set of Trials. The second stone, The Duel, The Hall of Flames and the Trial of Ancient Combat."
This time, Larten did outwardly groan. Arra, however, was entirely silent. She thought through it and remembered endless discussions with Mika about the Trials she feared the most, the ones she thought, however hard she trained, that she might never pass – she had worried endlessly over one-to-one combat with another General, and though she thought she might have had a fraction of a chance of passing the other two, they hardly filled her with hope; she was terrified of the Hall of Flames, and Ancient Combat involved fighting another General with the added difficulty of using no weapons at all to dispatch your enemy – with her strength not a match for several of the male vampires she knew, including Larten and Mika, her only hope had been well placed body shots and fortunate broken bones in the enemy, the likelihood of which were slim.
"But I never asked for that," she said quietly, looking Paris square in the eye and searching for an answer. "I never would have wanted favours."
Paris, like Larten, had placed it all together.
"There has been a misunderstanding between you and your mentor," he said, then saw that it was clearly his time to make himself scarce. He lay a hand on her shoulder as he stood. "It takes nothing away from you, Arra Sails," he said. "Congratulations, all the same."
There was a long silence between the two of them as he walked away, and Larten watched through the gaps in his fingers as Mika hovered nearby. Eventually, he brought himself to say something.
"It makes no difference," he reassured her softly, so that nobody else could hear – her embarrassment was radiating off her in waves, as though suddenly all of the vampires who had come to show their support for her and celebrate had all known that she was incapable of tackling some of the hardest Trials of all – they admired her, but still only as much as any of them could admire a woman.
"Yes it does," she said instantly, taking not even a second to consider it. She flicked her eyes up to meet his. "Did you know about it?" she asked, wondering if just about everything was being swept out from under her. All of Mika's talk of believing in her, everything he'd said about the greats not having done it better – it was all so fake she could hardly stand it.
"No," Larten answered, and looked back at her properly, meeting her eyes and holding her gaze in the way he knew she wanted him to. "I promise you," he said, and, knowing that he never could have lied to her about something she considered so important, she nodded.
Arra looked around at the vampires around her and wondered who knew and who didn't. Had it been something the Princes had kept to themselves? Had it been something in an announcement that she'd missed? Either way, everything about her success that she had previously felt so proud of felt like an awful joke – all of the work she had put it, all of the hours of training mercilessly in an effort to finally be considered an equal to everyone else had been utterly useless. Her Trials had been nothing but a sham all along, and it would have been dishonest, whatever the circumstances, to continue her celebrations when she knew she did not truly deserve them.
She was so lost in her thoughts that she had not noticed Larten disappear. She scanned the crowd in front of her for him, and caught sight of the recognizable crop of red hair almost immediately – and at his side, the very last person in the world she had expected to see there to celebrate her so-called success. At first she wondered if Larten had purposefully sought him out and felt a little upset by the thought, after he had done so well to avoid Mika's confrontation throughout the past months of her Trials and their training. But the closer she looked, she could see Mika pushing forwards, towards her, and Larten attempting to guide him away.
That was enough for her. He had stood between them enough times.
She approached the two of them as quickly as she could, before either of them could throw a punch. Larten noticed her instantly and tried again to lead Mika away, but she quickly found her way through the crowds and grabbed her former mentor's arm.
"I don't think any of the greats have ever done it better," she mocked, more furious when she began speaking than she had realized she was before she started. Suddenly he was not a figure to be pitied anymore – he had schemed, lied and manipulated in order to get what he wanted; for her to follow his orders and live in his shadow, under his control, forever. And, finally, after everything, he had robbed her of the opportunity to really prove herself that she had been seeking since becoming his assistant thirty years ago. Any shred of the sorrow she had felt for hurting him was gone, and suddenly he was just a foolish, ridiculous man who had loved her too much – or, in her eyes, had not understood her well enough – and had selfishly ruined everything for her in the end. Now, she realized more than ever how wrong he had been when he said nobody would ever truly know her the way he did – if anything, if he could have thought even for a second that this pathetic victory would have been enough for her, he knew her the least of all.
He attempted to reach out and touch her, but Larten tried to pull him away again – and though she couldn't hear the exact words, she heard a reference to do that again and watched Mika raise his fist. She could hardly contain a gasp.
"Did you do that?" she asked suddenly, breaking the two of them apart and gesturing toward Larten's head. Mika said nothing, but everything in his face and the way he stood betrayed him. She was too focused to be angry with Larten for lying to her, and she knew that if she gave it a moment's thought she would probably understand the reasoning behind it. "That and how you've humiliated me! You are on a roll!"
Mika's eyes showed that his thoughts were racing, building an excuse for the mistake he knew he had made, but for once in his life, he wasn't quick enough.
"I couldn't have allowed it," he said weakly. "You could have died in those Trials, Arra – you were too young to take them, and I knew you weren't ready. I've never been able to stand to see you hurt, and I couldn't have stood to see you killed because you were too stubborn to accept it when I told you that it wasn't your time yet."
She shook her head in total disbelief. "It wasn't about you," she hissed, aware that she was making a scene but unable to stop herself. "It was always about you, but this time, I was doing this for myself. I'd rather have died honestly than have all of this now and know that I haven't achieved it fairly."
Mika had nothing to say. All those months ago, when she had insisted on undertaking the Trials without any of the proper years of preparation and had been determined to ignore everything he said on the matter, it had simply seemed like the right thing to do. In all their years together, it had gotten more and more impossible to allow her to take the kind of risks she wanted to in order to prove herself – and he had convinced himself that, if only the Princes were aware of the restrictions, she would never really need to know. As he thought back, he knew it was selfish – but still, even as she stood in front of him and stared at him like he was a stranger, he couldn't help but think it was all for her own good.
"I'm sorry," he offered, pointlessly, and she laughed.
"You're not," she accused. "You're too selfish to understand why it was wrong."
There was a silence between them, and suddenly Arra realized that the way she'd felt earlier – the desperation for things to go back to the way they were before, the hope that she wouldn't lose him forever – was no longer important to her. This, the final straw, had changed everything between them. She no longer cared if he loved her, or if she had injured his pride or his heart, or whether his intentions had been good. He was no longer the man she had admired, respected and loved, albeit in another way, for all those years.
"This is the end," she told him, without a hint of shame or sadness. "We will never travel together again like we used to, I will never be your assistant again, I will never be your mate, and we will never be the way we were."
The final stage in the dissolution of their fragile relationship finally complete, she pushed him aside and headed out, through the tunnels and out into the fresh air. It took several minutes, which had undoubtedly been spent struggling to get away from either Mika or Arrow and then escaping the crowds who would have preferred to see a fight, but Larten eventually joined her.
"I am sorry," he said, straightaway. "I thought it would be better for the two of you if I just said –"
"It doesn't matter about that," she said, wearily. She couldn't bring herself to care that Larten had told her a little white lie about Mika trying to knock him out – he was right, had the rest of the revelations not come to light, it might have been better for the two of them that she hadn't known. The significance of that, though, was so miniscule to her in comparison to the weight of the lies that had just been revealed.
They sat in silence for a while, but Larten weaved his hand into hers almost instantly as he sat down. In the time it took for the two of them to finally say anything, the total darkness was turning to the slightest sign of the approaching dawn – the sky was dark blue, and it would only be a couple more hours until the sunrise.
"Larten," Arra eventually said, after waiting long enough to ascertain whether she regretted what had happened between her and Mika – and deciding she didn't, even when her anger was gone. He turned towards her, though she kept her gaze on the clouds.
"I would like nothing more than to see the world with you," she said, and he smiled gently at her and squeezed her hand. She looked at him quizzically. "But I have to ask; how much of a rush are you in to get going?"
Larten frowned, confused. "As I said," he replied. "I do not mind where we go or when we leave, as long as you agree to accompany me."
She nodded, and then looked up at the sky again with a sudden look of headstrong determination that made his stomach turn with a sudden worry.
"Arra, you are not thinking –"
She smiled. "I'm afraid so, yes," she interrupted.
Knowing what it meant to her made it impossible to argue, but Larten knew it would be heart-breaking to watch her go through it all again. He placed a kiss on her forehead and sighed deeply like a tormented man.
"Can you at least give it a year?" he asked pleadingly. He had been looking forward so much to the end of her Trials and the beginning of their time together, uninterrupted for a little while by constant battles of life or death. But, he supposed, nothing was ever going to be that simple with Arra.
She shrugged. "I'll give it a couple of months," she said, and laughed when he groaned. "But only if you'll agree to train me again," she added, and then threateningly: "and if you won't, I swear I'll take them tomorrow."
Larten laughed – the situation was hardly humorous, but it was so typical of her to think it was possible to start all over again. No recovery, no time to rest; internally he swore to himself that this woman was truly insane, but oddly enough it didn't put him off the desire to lean in for a kiss. This time though, finally, she lay back on the grass and pulled him down above her.
"I suppose, in that case," he said in between kisses, as she shifted her legs around his. "All I have to say to you is may the luck of the Vampire Gods be with you in your second set of the Trials of Initiation."
So that is really the end. Please do let me know what you thought of not only this chapter, but the story as a whole. I really hope to take on another long fic like this at some point, so I'd like some constructive criticism, thoughts, observations - anything - in order to help me improve. Again, I really hope this has been an enjoyable read! :)
