Hey hi you guys! It's uh... well it's a chapter alright. And I think you're going to hate it! Trust me, you'll see. As you're reading, please just remember... I've only ever had, and I'll only ever have one endgame with these two. That's all I have to say.
The dialogue when Mika relays his news from the field is all direct from Hunters Of The Dusk. Because I love being true to canon one minute and off the fuckin' rails the next. Aren't I quirky and fun?! Also, fun fact: in the book itself, Mika never mentions he was shot. Whereas in the manga adaption he's literally like GUYS LOOK I GOT SHOT!
Let's get to it I guess. Sorry in advance.
Oh yeah and it's another 2-parter. It was supposed to be one concise chapter to cover Mika's first 24 hours back in the mountain, but alas I am the human embodiment of chaos so it just spiralled. As it does.
Chapter 12: HOME I -Still Ache From Trying To Keep Pace
Song: Home by Machine Gun Kelly. (ok you caught me. I used this song in Call It What You Want already - also in a chapter where Mika returned to the mountain after a time away. Let's pretend that's symbolism or something when really it's just because this song is one of my top Mika anthems and it just works SO WELL.)
Home
A place where I can go
To take this off my shoulders
Someone take me home
Kurda was aware he'd fallen into a bit of a pattern. Specifically, dating his bosses.
And Mika wasn't even the first. The first was an older General who Kurda had trained with briefly, once upon a time. Mika also wasn't the last, to Kurda's surprise. Not once in the six years after his exile did he entertain the notion of seeing anyone ever again for the rest of his life.
And then, Nathan happened.
Nathan was far from royalty. His biggest claim to fame was that he owned the only bar in town. But he was kind-hearted, and most importantly he made Kurda laugh. Which, after everything that had happened in his life, meant the world to Kurda.
The unfortunate part was that when Kurda first became a regular at Nathan's bar years ago, he'd introduced himself as Kyle Smith - the most mundane, forgettable name he could possibly imagine. There was no real reason for Kurda to use a false identity. He was exiled, not hiding. But the thought of a fresh, clean slate was admittedly appealing. So Kyle Smith was born. And it wasn't long before Kyle Smith found himself working part-time as a bartender at Nathan's fine establishment. Nathan took immediate interest in the mysterious man with the sad smile and knockout-gorgeous eyes who showed up out of nowhere one day, but it was years before anything worth noting transpired between them.
After casually flirting for at least a year, they went on their first date about a week after Mika's unexpected visit (Cue "Ironic" By Alanis Morissette). In the days following his night with Mika, Kurda had been a little... spaced out of his fucking mind, to say the very least. Nathan noticed something was off when Kurda went to pour a drink and then just kept pouring until there was more alcohol on the bar than in the glass.
"Alright, Smith. Talk to me." Nathan had said later, as he saw Kurda sitting alone in a booth during his break and sat down across from him.
Kurda felt a pang of painful nostalgia at the easy, unassuming way Nathan said "alright, Smith." How many hundreds of times had Mika and Kurda both addressed each other by their surnames in a varying degrees of exasperation throughout the early years?
Kurda sighed dejectedly.
"Sorry, Nathan. I know I've been a bit of a mess. But I'm handling it. Seriously."
"That's an understatement." Said Nathan. "What the hell's going on with you?"
"I mentioned I have a daughter, right?"
"Yeah... I don't like to pry, but I get the impression it's a bit of a complicated situation." Nathan replied with a sideways glance.
"That's an understatement." Kurda snorted. He truly had no idea. "Anyway, her other dad, also known as my ex, came to visit me a few days ago... we hadn't seen each other in about six years and it wasn't good."
Nathan stiffened.
"Did he give you a hard time? Are you okay?"
Kurda laughed hollowly. Clearly there was an assumption being made here.
"It's not like that." He assured Nathan. That much was true. "I'm the problem, not him."
"Ah. I see. I don't mean to be nosy, but... I just can't picture you being a problem?"
Kurda took a deep breath and thought long and hard about how he should be proceeding here, or if he should proceed at all. He did proceed, albeit with caution.
"I... I betrayed him in a way that destroyed both of us. And I'm still working on finding a way to live with that." Kurda summarized flatly. That was also true.
So they sat, and talked, and drank. Kurda hated lying, but Nathan wouldn't have believed the full truth if he heard it. So as far as Nathan knew, Kurda had committed infidelity against his ex "Mike". Kurda supposed that was sort of true in a roundabout way. He'd been disloyal. Just not in the way he was leading Nathan to believe. Either way, Nathan never judged. He simply listened. He claimed he heard much worse confessions during his time as a bartender. And while that didn't surprise Kurda, he also knew it would be a different story if Nathan knew what really happened between Kurda and his ex. It would've been funny if it hadn't been so awful.
That night, they sat and talked til four in the morning. Long after the last patron had gone home and they should have put the "closed" sign on the door.
The next day, Nathan abruptly asked if Kurda wanted to have dinner with him the following Tuesday night. So they did. And they did it again a few days later. And then again. Fast forward two months, and they were taking turns spending nights and mornings at each other's houses, watching movies, cooking together... it was beautiful in it's simplicity. Kurda's early-life relationships had been fine. Being with Mika had been incredible. But he'd never had anything quite this effortless.
And Kurda was happy. So happy he almost didn't know what to do with himself. He tried to temper it; he knew ultimately he'd have to move on. Nathan was a human, and Kurda could potentially live for another six hundred years. There would never be a "forever" relationship with a human for him. And telling the truth wasn't an option. If he told Nathan about the clan, he'd also have to tell him about the exile. And there was just no way in hell that was happening. So for now, Kurda lived in the moment.
For the first time since the worst moment of his life, he started to feel like he was home.
Home
A place where I can go
To take this off my shoulders
Someone take me home
Someone take me
The night was young when Mika finally, finally found himself walking the halls of Vampire Mountain for the first time in five years. Even after everything that happened here, he still loved this place as much as he had during what he now considered "the good old days" or "Before Kurda" (BK for short). Nothing could change the fact that every crack, corner, bloodstain, and dust bunny in this place was sacred to him. This was his whole life. This was home.
And how beautiful it felt to be home.
The halls were fairly quiet as he made his way briskly to the Hall of Princes with Jakob, Gareth, Osric, and Marius trailing behind him. A few vampires greeted them excitedly but Mika didn't stop until he reached the massive glowing dome where he'd logged thousands of hours of his life, and intended to clock many more before his time on earth was through.
Mika paused before opening the door and glanced over his shoulder to check in with the team.
"You don't have to stay for this." He told them. "I know you're all exhausted. You can go sleep or bathe or eat -"
"Not a chance. We're with you to the end." Jakob interrupted, gritty determination in his world-weary eyes. The others nodded.
"Alright then." Said Mika quietly.
He pressed his palm gently, almost affectionately, against the automatic door panel. He relished the light, familiar buzzing sensation, then the doors slid open. And if he hadn't already been back in his happy place prior to walking back into the Hall of Princes, he sure as hell was now. Memories of Kurda's betrayal may have tarnished it, but time away had restored the old shine. And for that he was grateful.
The hall was mostly empty, but his eyes immediately landed on Paris, Seba and Larten standing at the front of the room conversing with each other. Paris's back was facing Mika; he had no idea his prodigal colleague had returned. Larten caught Mika's eye and began to smile but Mika held his finger to his lips in a shushing motion. Larten caught on immediately and kept a straight face so when Mika silently crept up behind Paris, the old man was perfectly clueless until Mika threw his good arm around him roughly. "Roughly" being a relative term, of course. Paris wasn't as sturdy as he used to be. Had he been greeting Arrow or Vancha or vice-versa, they would've been liable to come away with cracked ribs.
"What the - Mika?! Are you trying to give me a heart attack?" Paris wheezed into Mika's chest as he returned the hug. Mika sighed contentedly and held Paris tightly. Although it wasn't lost on him that everything about Paris seemed a little weaker than it did five years ago, from the quaver in his voice to the way his embrace wasn't as firm as it used to be. Mika tried not to think about how it seemed like just a few years ago they were near the same height, and now Paris was barely eye-level with Mika's collarbone.
"I had no idea you were on your way back!" Paris chided him as they broke apart.
"Because I didn't tell you." Mika chuckled. "Surprise."
"You have always been in the habit of keeping us on our toes. It is good to see you, Sire." Said Seba with a respectful little bow. Mika responded by pulling him in for a hug just as he'd done Paris.
"Funny, I never took you for a hugger." Larten contributed with a crisp grin. "War has changed you."
"Don't worry, Quicksilver. I can only do so many per day." Mika replied stiffly before rolling his eyes and returning Larten's smile. He gave him a quick embrace after all.
It was true, Mika was not generally a hugger. Arrow on the other hand was a hugger extraordinaire. Mika had always been more sparing with manifesting affection in a physical manner.
But even if you live for centuries, five years is a long time to be away from home. Your people. Your family. So today, Mika was a hugger.
"How are you?" Paris queried, his eyes roaming up and down Mika's body as if looking for clues. "How was your time away?"
"We'll get to that." Mika promised. "Progress was made and I do have some news, but I don't have any information that'll make or break the war. Otherwise I would've relayed it mentally."
"I figured as much." Said Paris gently. "I'm just glad you're home safe."
There was a tear in Paris's old blue eye and Mika had to look away.
"Me too." He said. He'd never made a truer statement in his life.
"How are you feeling?" Paris asked. "You look weary. Do you need a rest before you give your report? Medical attention? Something to eat?"
"Probably, but all that can wait." Mika responded with a dismissive wave of his hand. Paris shot him a highly reproachful glare. "Paris... trust me." Mika added more seriously. "I've been gone for five years. This is the only place in the world I want to be right now."
"Self-care never was your forté." Paris admonished him resignedly, smiling once again.
"Not even Mika Ver Leth can be good at *everything*." Seba chuckled.
"See? Seba gets it." Said Mika breezily while Paris scoffed at him.
"You are holding your left arm rather strangely." Larten pointed out, as he took in the way Mika was keeping the arm curled close to his body. The unattended bullet in his shoulder had caused the entire limb to seize up so painfully it was essentially useless at this point. A trip to the medics would certainly be his next stop after this, but he couldn't sit down and put his feet up until he'd made sure everyone knew the latest developments. And he wasn't ready to reveal the news about the vampets and their bonus firepower yet. They'd all find out soon enough anyway. So he shrugged evasively at Larten's comment.
Then he spotted another familiar face making its way over. Darren didn't look a whole lot older than he did five years ago, but he was taller and he'd filled out. Mika frequently forgot the kid was actually Gracie's age. Five years later he almost looked like he could pass for a high schooler. And he had his faithful friend Harkat Mulds in tow - who looked the same as ever.
"How's the cub Prince?" Mika greeted Darren, smiling briefly.
"Not bad," Darren replied in a would-be-casual manner. His voice was a little bit deeper, but not much. He looked Mika up and down almost critically, just like Paris had. "What about the Vampaneze Lord? According to the gossip, you know where he is." Darren added briskly. Gone was the gentle apprehension that used to come standard for him.
Mika had a healthy appreciation for the fact he wasn't beating around the bush. Just as Gracie was undeniably Mika's kid, for all intents and purposes, Darren surely was Larten's. The circumstances that led the two vampires to inadvertently raise these children couldn't have been more different. But there were some undeniable similarities between the end product.
"If only!" Mika snorted. No one gossiped like vampires, he wasn't surprised the rumours had reached such an critically optimistic level. "Shall we assemble? I have news, but I'd rather announce it to the Hall in general."
The vampires in the hall immediately took their seats, and as if on cue more began to file into the room. Word of Mika's arrival had spread like wildfire.
At long last, Mika climbed the stairs up to the throne platform and sunk into his throne. The ancient, hard, nondescript wooden chair might as well have been a La-Z-Boy recliner to him. Now he was truly home.
"It's good to be back," he sighed as he patted his arm rests affectionately. "Has Seba been taking good care of my coffin?"
In hindsight, one of his biggest regrets was the moment he lost control in a drunken rage and smashed the absolute shit out of his beloved mahogany coffin the night of Kurda's exile. He spent months sleeping on a lumpy old cot he'd dragged up from the infirmary - requesting the staff to bring him a new coffin would beg the question "what the hell happened to yours?" and he simply didn't want to go there. Then one day he walked into his cell and saw his old coffin there. Against all odds, the thing had been painstakingly pieced back together by Seba and Arrow over the course of several months. Mika thought he loved that coffin before, but he had a whole new appreciation for it now. A good surprise had been a pleasant change.
"To the vampaneze with your coffin!" Some old General hollered from the second row. "What news of the Vampaneze Lord?"
Mika shot the General a withering glare but refrained from snapping back - although he certainly could have. He sighed again and ran a hand through his hair.
"First, let's make it clear - I don't know where he is. But I've had word of him."
The assembled crowd went from attentive to disappointed to gleeful in the span of about three seconds as they absorbed his words.
"Before I begin, do you know about the latest vampaneze recruits?" Mika added.
The Princes and senior Generals had made a concerted effort to keep each other in the loop since the war started but it was easier said than done. He'd lost track of who all knew what at this point. At one point during his visit with Gracie, she'd told him about an online "group chat" her colleagues used to keep in touch. Personally, Mika thought the clan should take a cue from the civilized world and just buy a bunch of fucking iPhones and be done with it. But somehow he didn't think the other Princes would be into that. Well, maybe Darren. But that was a pipe dream for another night.
His comment about the vampaneze recruits was met with blank stares.
"The vampaneze have been adding to their ranks since the start of the war, blooding more humans than usual, to drive their numbers up." He explained.
This is old news," Paris remarked. "There are far fewer vampaneze than vampires in the world. We expected them to blood recklessly. It is nothing to worry about - we still outnumber them greatly."
Hah. I haven't even gotten to the best part, thought Mika.
"Yes... But now they're also using unblooded humans. They call them 'vampets'. Apparently the Vampaneze Lord himself came up with the name. Like him, they're learning the rules of vampaneze life and warfare as humans, before being blooded. He plans to build an army of human helpers." Mika explained. He watched every pair of eyes in the room grow as wide as dinner plates at the revelation.
The human he'd captured, the vampet, had yielded more information than he'd expected. As awful as extracting that information had been, it had been even more valuable than Mika could have imagined.
"We can deal with humans," another General shouted obliviously.
"Normally. But we must be wary of these vampets." Mika countered patiently. It was truly a mark of his contentedness at being home that he didn't even feel the need to jump down the man's throat for interrupting him. "While they lack the powers of the vampaneze, they're learning to fight like them. Also, since they aren't blooded, they don't have to abide by the more restrictive vampaneze laws. They aren't honour bound to tell the truth, they don't have to follow ancient customs - and they don't have to limit themselves to hand to hand weapons."
A clamour of angry mutters and whispers circled through the hall.
"Hah! I believe we are capable of dealing with mere humans, Sire!" Someone exclaimed indignantly from the corner.
Mika raised an eyebrow, his patience thinning. Okay, time for show and tell.
"Normally, I'd quite agree..." He rolled up his sleeve and held up his left arm, angling it in a way that made it easy to see the ugly souvenirs of the firefight that had taken Arlo's life. "What do you think of them now?"
There was a series of shocked gasps and cusses as the crowd realized the other side was changing the rules of the game.
"Sire! Are those bullet wounds?!" The same General yelped.
"They are indeed." Mika confirmed, firmly pushing back the memories of the night he first heard gunshots at close range and the debilitating terror that followed.
Dozens of fascinated eyes locked onto his new scars and Mika knew exactly what they were all thinking; they saw it as a badge of honour. A novel souvenir from a grand adventure. He couldn't blame them, such was the vampire way and he'd probably be thinking the same thing if their positions were reversed.
He hoped none of them ever found themselves in a fight like that, but he doubted they'd get that lucky.
"The vampaneze are using guns?" Paris breathed, his pale face whitening even more.
"The vampets aren't vampaneze. There's no reason why a non-blooded vampet shouldn't use a gun. I don't think all their masters approve, but under orders from their Lord, they allow it." Mika continued. "But the vampets are a problem for another night. I only mention them now because it's relevant to how I found out about their Lord. A vampaneze would die screaming before betraying his clan, but the vampets aren't so hardened." Mika added. "I captured one a few months ago and squeezed some interesting details out of him."
Intrigued mutterings broke out across the hall. Jakob caught Mika's eye and nodded curtly; both quietly remembering the night the vampet was questioned.
"Foremost of which is - the Vampaneze Lord doesn't have a base. He's travelling the world with a small band of guards, moving among the various fighting units, keeping up morale." Mika carried on.
The Generals received the news with great excitement - if the Vampaneze Lord was mobile and lightly protected, he was more vulnerable to attack.
"Did this vampet know where the Vampaneze Lord was?" Mr. Crepsley asked.
"No," Mika said. "He'd seen him, but that had been more than a year ago. Only those who accompany him know of his travel patterns."
The stealthy fucker.
"What else did he tell you?" Paris enquired.
"That their Lord still hasn't been blooded. And that despite his efforts, morale is low. Vampaneze losses are high, and many don't believe they can win the war. There has been talk of a peace treaty - even outright surrender." Mika concluded, managing a weary grin. That pearl of information had undoubtedly been the silver lining that kept him going during the long, cold trek back to Vampire Mountain.
A cheer erupted from the crowd, building volume like a mighty jet engine until it seemed like the very walls could crack open.
About a dozen Generals leapt from their seats and charged towards the throne platform, hollering in boisterous glee. Mika had a pretty good idea of what was about to occur. This was a thing that just happened around here sometimes.
"Seriously?" Larten grunted. "Right now?"
"What's going on?" Darren yelped.
"I'll just go ahead and take your name off the schedule for guarding the hall tonight then, Mika?" Paris commented drily.
Mika had just enough time to shoot Paris an sorry-not-sorry smile and a shrug before he was hoisted onto the shoulders of the clamouring Generals and carried swiftly from the hall.
Part of him - the professional, stoic, reasonable part of him - almost shut it down. Almost said "Love the enthusiasm, guys. But let's stay focused here."
But there was another part of him that was louder these days - the world-weary, slightly unhinged part. The part that recognized if a spontaneous and inconveniently timed celebration was the worst thing that happened to him today, it was a damn good day.
Look, I didn't power through the struggle
Just to let a little trouble, knock me out of my position
And interrupt the vision
After everything I witnessed, after all of these decisions
All these miles, feet, inches
They can't add up to the distance
That I have been through, just to get to
A place where even if there's no closure, I'm still safe
I still ache from trying to keep pace
Somebody give me a sign, I'm starting to lose faith
Within minutes he was back in his secondary natural habitat (his primary natural habitat being the Hall of Princes). Mika had almost forgotten what it was like to feel this peaceful and secure as he sat in the middle of the Hall of Khledon Lurt, surrounded by hot food, cold alcohol and clamouring fans- er, friends.
He spent about half an hour mingling and catching up with vampires he hadn't seen since leaving the mountain. But eventually he made his way over to where his teammates were sitting, wanting to see how they were doing. He knew they were just as tired as he was, and he wanted to remind them they weren't obligated to sit through a long night of partying if they'd rather go rest from the journey. But that didn't seem to be an issue. The others lit up when they saw him approach and immediately made room on their bench. Every single one of them eagerly raised their glasses to toast him as he sat down.
"Gentlemen." Mika greeted them with a nod.
"There he is! Our fearless leader!" Marius Veld saluted. Mika rolled his eyes dismissively, but flashed them all a quick grin nonetheless. Immediately, several more fresh drinks were slid down the table in his direction, and he smiled wider yet. He never had a hard time being the centre of attention. He couldn't help it, his brain was just wired that way. (A fact that had always caused Kurda endless exasperation).
"A leader is only as good as his team." Said Mika, glancing at Marius, Osric, Jakob, and Gareth in turn. Yes, even Gareth. "You made me proud during our time in the field together. I was honoured to fight beside you. And I no matter what happens in this war... I hope all of you remember that."
A few seconds of stunned silence followed his words. Mika was known for many things but spontaneously soulful proclamations were not one of them. If he did deliver a compliment, it was usually more subtle and backhanded than that. No one seemed to know what to say, so Mika raised his mug.
"To those we lost too soon. And to the rest of us... six years into the War of Scars and we're still here. May we make that mean something. And worse case scenario - even in death may we be triumphant. To the vampire clan!" He said loudly.
"Even in death may we be triumphant!" Came the resounding echo from not only his table, but every other vampire within earshot.
They downed their mugs, they laughed and they retold the less-dismal stories from their five years away as other vampires came to join them at their table. And Mika was content. More so than he'd been in a long time. It didn't take long to finish off his drink, so he quickly rectified that with a trip to the bar table.
He spied Larten, Darren, Harkat, and Vanez sitting at a table near the corner. Surely they had a few good Vampire Mountain stories to catch him up on. He headed in their direction but didn't make it very far.
"Hey, Mika! Over here!" Came a booming voice from somewhere to his left.
He paused. Frowned. Turned.
Mika didn't outright have a problem with people addressing him by his first name, but still. There were a small-ish handful of vampires who were able to do that without him giving them a funny look at the very least.
He smiled politely as he saw who'd summoned him, and decided to let the informality slide.
"General Azerion." Said Mika, with a crisp smile and nod. "I didn't realize you were in the mountain. Good to see you."
"Oh, don't be so formal! How many decades have we known each other now? Call me Renley!" The other man laughed, beckoning Mika over with an enthusiastic wave of his arm.
Mika rolled his eyes.
"I see giving orders agrees with you." He snorted as he sat down beside Renley.
"I'm no you, but I certainly do my best!" Said Renley with an airy laugh. Mika arched his eyebrows.
"You're right. You're no me." He chuckled. "Lucky for you."
"Oh, come on!" Renley protested with a grin. "Everyone wants to be Mika Ver Leth!"
"If that's true, then everyone's an idiot." Said Mika, straight-faced. Renley paused and looked alarmed for a moment, then quickly rearranged his face back into his typical roguish grin.
"I suppose this is a bad time for me to mention I've more or less modelled my career after yours. And if that makes me an idiot then so be it, because it's worked out pretty well for me so far." Renley informed him, winking.
Mika rolled his eyes once more, but returned Renley's look with a wry grin of his own.
Renley Azerion wasn't much younger than Mika. He began his training roughly when Kurda did; they were about the same age. Slightly taller than Mika, fiery hazel eyes, dark brown hair and a wide assortment of tattoos covering his neck, shoulder, and right arm that Mika knew for a fact Arrow envied. Mika didn't see much of Renley these days but they'd been running in the same circles for a long time. There was a bit of overlap in the time they spent training in the mountain. To put it in perspective, when Mika and Arrow were seniors, Kurda and Renley would have been in their freshmen year- so to speak.
There was no shortage of talent in that generation, and Renley went on to become one of the clan's highest-ranking Generals. If you asked any of the current Princes to make a shortlist of their top choices for future nominations, he would've been on all of them. Truth be told, Mika was surprised Renley wasn't nominated before Kurda was.
Unlike Kurda who'd been an unconventional choice for many reasons, Renley was the utter poster-child for what the average vampire aspired to be. He was a stellar fighter, a smooth talker, a commanding leader. Traditional, but open-minded. Clever and analytical. He didn't dabble in controversial politics. He was all business when it counted, but widely known to be a bit of a party animal when off-duty. And not that it mattered to the majority of vampire clan, but he was devilishly handsome to boot. Any of that sound familiar?
Sometimes Mika wondered if the reason Renley hadn't been nominated for investiture yet was because the other Princes felt having one Mika around was plenty. But of course, that was just a theory.
The pair of them chatted for half an hour or so, catching each other up on their recent adventures. Renley had been the first General to lead a strike team from Vampire Mountain, mere months after Kurda's exile six years ago. He'd been back just over a month now. Like Mika's, Renley's strike team had not returned in one piece, and it was understandably weighing heavily on the young General's mind. Mika listened politely while Renley drank, ranted about the vampaneze, and drank some more. Mika had decades of practice with this - he was Arrow's best friend, after all.
"I was sorry to hear your team lost Arlo Bracken." Renley told Mika after a long gulp of ale. "He was a great vampire. Honourable as they come."
Mika nodded in agreement, and took another sip of his drink. He really didn't feel like thinking about that night.
"He didn't deserve to go so young. I'll miss him." Said Mika simply.
"How did Jakob take it?" Renley inquired. His tone was as laid-back as ever, but there was a spark of genuine curiosity in his eyes.
Mika paused. He didn't know how "out" Jakob was. To Mika's knowledge, Jakob and Arlo's official relationship began and ended during their time away from the mountain. They weren't totally secretive about it, but they didn't shout it from the rooftops either. And he'd prefer not to inadvertently out a friend who'd already been through too much.
"They were close friends. It hit him hard." Said Mika at last. "But the harsh reality is we're at war. None of us had time to grieve, we had to keep pushing on. And Jakob rose to the challenge with honour and dignity."
"They were a lot more than friends. Did... did you not know?!" Renley replied, visibly taken aback.
"Oh, no. I knew." Mika corrected him quickly, sighing. "Sorry, didn't mean to be evasive. I just didn't want to share anything that wasn't my place to share. Wasn't sure if it was common knowledge."
"It wasn't." Said Renley with a sad sort of smile. "I was running a hand-to-hand combat training session a few years back and they were in my group. I could just tell... something about the way they looked at each other. At first I thought they were just hooking up, but it became apparent it was deeper than that. It's a shame they never got their chance to... you know, go public with it like you and Kurda did back in the day. Jakob was always so cautious, and you just never know how people will react to that type of thing. I know they say vampires are progressive compared to humans but I can sure think of a few who..."
The abrupt mention of Kurda's name threw Mika off. He nodded silently, only half listening as Renley continued to chatter away. He lifted his mug to his lips and took a long, slow drink. As the dark, familiar liquid burned his throat he felt a small prickle of guilt along with it. Admittedly Mika hadn't fully experienced the apprehension that frequently precedes one's coming out.
There'd been a moment of, 'Hmm. How exactly is the clan going to react to this?' but that was swiftly followed by 'Fuck it. I'm Mika Ver Leth and I do what I want.' and that was that. He'd more or less showed up to work one day and essentially said 'Good morning everyone I'm dating Kurda Smahlt now. Go about your business'. Then one guy made a rude comment, but Arrow knocked him to the floor and just about cracked his skull open so it was very much an isolated incident. So as far as coming out went, Mika had gotten off incredibly easily. And that privilege was not lost on him.
He didn't realize how deeply he'd retreated into his thoughts until he felt someone reach over and lightly touch his forearm.
"Sorry, what?"
"I said, can I ask you something?" Said Renley, still smiling openly.
"Anyone can ask me anything, at any time." Mika replied with a guarded shrug. He didn't match Renley's breezy, forthright energy but he forced a gritty smile nonetheless. "Whether I answer is something else entirely."
"Touché!" Renley laughed. "If this is too personal, I apologize in advance -"
Mika scrutinized Renley shrewdly out of the corner of his eye. The confident young General returned Mika's sharp look with an easy amicability that Mika wasn't entirely accustomed to. There were very few vampires who looked at him like that, with the obvious exception of his inner circle. Which, last he checked, didn't include Renley. Sure, they were friends. Mika had a lot of friends. But there's a high degree of separation between a friendship and inner circle material.
"- but why Kurda Smahlt?"
Based on the fact the question had been prefaced by an apology, Mika wasn't completely caught off-guard by that. But he was far from prepared. He raised his mug once more, but what should have been a long drink ended abruptly - the mug was empty.
The disappointment must have been evident on his face because Renley stood up more quickly than should've been physically possible, and within five seconds he'd waved down one of the kitchen staff who'd been in the vicinity. And not five more seconds had passed before there was a freshly filled mug sitting in front of Mika before he had time to seek one out for himself.
Mika looked down at the mug, then back up at Renley and gave him a curtly appreciative nod.
"You're good." He admitted. Renley laughed raucously again as though Mika had just told a spectacular joke. Mika proceeded to take the long drink he'd been planning on. And it turned out to be longer than he'd intended. He drained almost half the glass before he felt ready to answer Renley's question. And it was only with the help of the hard liquor he was entertaining the possibility of answering it at all. Sober Mika would've been liable to just get up and walk away at the mention of Kurda. Buzzed Mika was marginally more chill. But his guard was still very much up.
"Why Kurda Smahlt..." Mika hummed thoughtfully. "That was the million-dollar question around here back then. Fuck, it feels like so much longer ago than it actually was."
"I remember hearing about it when it was big news." Said Renley casually. "I like to think I know what's going on, but I'll admit your change in relationship status took me by surprise."
"By the man in question, or the fact that it was a man?" Mika countered. He knew Renley had a reputation for being bold. And Mika, being Mika, had always respected that. But he wasn't sure how he felt about being on the receiving end.
"Both." Renley chuckled. "But more so the identity of the man in question. I've known Kurda forever, always was a bit... different. And knowing you -"
"You don't really know me that well, Renley." Mika interrupted swiftly. His tone was relaxed but undercut with subtle warning, and he knew Renley was smart enough to pick up on it.
"My apologies. Let me rephrase. Based on what I knew about you at the time, I never would've seen any of it coming. One: you settling down, first of all. Two: with a man. And three: that man being Kurda Smahlt!"
Renley took another sip of his ale, his eyes twinkling as he observed Mika from above his mug. Mika didn't know how to react, so he kept his guard up and his face coolly neutral.
"I didn't exactly anticipate it myself." Mika replied evenly. "It just happened."
"So I take it you're not going to answer my question?" Renley commented with a deliberately direct look at Mika. Mika met his gaze scathingly.
"Are you writing my fucking biography or something?"
"Not as such." Said Renley with a swift grin. "Unless you want me to."
"Gods, no. Ugh. That'd be an awful book." Mika replied with a mock grimace, and Renley laughed once again. "Anyway, I don't know what to tell you. I don't know what chemical reaction occurred in my brain that caused it to go 'wow, yes' every time I looked at Kurda Smahlt. I know it made no fucking sense to anyone else. It barely made sense to me. All I know is that, back then, he challenged me in ways nobody ever had. And I liked it." Mika mused. There was a harsh, abrasive edge to his voice at first - but with every word he spoke, it softened. His head was buzzing comfortably as the ice cold whiskey settled into his tired body. "He was so different than any other vampire. We didn't agree on everything but he always had my back when we were together. And we respected each other. He made me... I don't know. Better."
Renley nodded slowly. Mika realized he was no longer smiling. Rather he looked dismayed. Mika was aware he was no longer seeing entirely straight, but something about Renley's expression came across as almost... pitying. Surely that couldn't be right. Nobody pities Mika Ver Leth.
"Fair enough. Anyway, I'll have to take your word for it, because that was never the impression I got whenever I was around." Said Renley cautiously.
"Pardon you?" Mika shot back indignantly. He set his mug down more forcefully than he'd intended and a bit of liquid landed on his hand.
Renley sighed heavily and continued to gaze across the table at Mika. He smiled again after a moment, but it wasn't the same easy, dazzling smile that had been plastered on his face up til now. It was a sad sort of smile. And it was accompanied by an almost reverential focus in his eyes. Even if he'd been stone cold sober, Mika didn't think he would've known what to make of it.
"Are you really going to make me say it? Come on, Mika. I thought you were more intuitive than that." Said Renley softly.
Mika blinked in confusion. He heard the words but he wasn't certain he was truly understanding them. Suddenly he wished he hadn't hit the liquor quite so hard. This conversation was becoming harder to navigate by the second. Renley's hazel-gold eyes latched purposefully onto Mika's thunderstorm-grey, drawing him in and holding him there.
"What?" Mika grunted.
Renley sighed - again.
"You deserved so much better than Kurda Smahlt - and I'm not talking about the treachery. It was true long before last Council. I sat in on a lot of meetings with the two of you over the years - he was always trying to talk over you, arguing with you in front of everyone, as if his relationship status made your authority irrelevant. I knew it. Everyone knew it. Everyone but you." He said at last. Not quite a whisper, but his volume dropped considerably.
Mika's mind went blank. He had nothing. Renley was wrong. He was so, so wrong. Kurda did a horrible thing, that was undeniable. But during their good years... Kurda had been better than anything Mika could've dreamed about. He'd been perfect. Sure they disagreed on a lot, but that fire was what made them such a formidable duo. At its height, their relationship had been perfect.
It had been perfect, right? Had Mika's brain edited those memories so that when he thought of Kurda, all he could see was the drop-dead beautiful smile that, defying all logic and reason, made him believe in angels?
"It's true." Renley added in an undertone, his eyes still locked onto Mika's. "I never lived in the mountain full-time back then, but I drifted in and out often enough to know-"
"You don't know anything about my life." Mika growled. One hand gripping his mug a little too tightly, the other digging his fingernails into the edge of the table in an effort to keep himself grounded. This bizarre turn in conversation had disarmed him, leaving him without the usual decisive eloquence. The whiskey didn't help either.
"I know enough. I know you're one of the greatest vampires to ever walk these halls! You've dedicated your life to fighting for the good of the clan!" Renley retorted. "You're the one who sets the bar for the rest of us. And who was Kurda Smahlt? A cowardly, vampaneze-worshipping cartologist-"
"Cartographer." Mika corrected instinctively.
"Fine. Cartographer." Renley muttered, wrinkling his nose. "And when Smahlt wasn't waking around pretending to be some sort of scholar with his face buried in a damn map, he'd sit around looking down his nose at the rest of us. Like we were lower life forms for upholding our clan's time-honoured traditions." Renley added, his silken voice taking on a distinctly bitter edge.
"It wasn't like that!" Mika snapped. But his face burned, and he knew Renley's statement was rooted in a small amount of truth. How many times had Kurda sat on the sidelines rolling his eyes while Mika drank and sparred recklessly with his peers. He always loved that part of his life so fiercely. And he loved Kurda too - but he'd be lying if he said there hadn't been the odd time that Kurda was just a little bit... more like everyone else. And then he'd loathe himself for even thinking it.
"Come on. You're many things but naive isn't one of them." Renley snorted. "He used you! You cared about him, and he exploited that! Do you think a single vampire in this clan would've looked twice at him if he wasn't up there on your arm playing the long game by letting the world think he was your trophy and using that to his advantage? Why are you still defending him?"
Then he rolled his eyes in a way that made Mika bristle with anger. Maybe because it made him feel like he was looking in a mirror, but either way his body tensed in barely concealed rage. He slowly stood up, leaning heavily on the table as he stared murderously across at Renley. Who maintained an infuriatingly unbothered front, all things considered.
"I am not defending him. But let me make one thing perfectly clear." Mika snarled down at him viciously, the sudden fury granting him the clarity he'd been lacking until just now. "I don't owe anyone an explanation."
The tables had turned. Now Mika was the one holding Renley's gaze by force, daring the General to look away. Renley remained as cool-headed as ever, but his shoulders sagged ever so slightly and his face softened.
"I'm sorry, Mika. I overstepped. The ale is getting the better of me. Please forgive my disrespect."
Just like that, his voice was smooth and congenial once more. But Mika didn't give an inch.
"That's Sire Ver Leth to you." He snapped back coldly before turning and walking away. He heard the scrape of wood on stone and knew he was being followed. For fuck's sake.
Mika wasn't about to cause a scene at his own welcome home party; his whiskey-addled mind had retained at least that much common sense. But if Renley was still behind him when he got out to the hallway, he wasn't going to hold back. He didn't give a damn how successful this young General was. Who in the ever-loving fuck did he think he was? And furthermore, Renley wasn't going to be getting a nomination or a vote of support from Mika anytime soon. Mika stalked through the centre of the Hall of Khledon Lurt and out the door - scarcely acknowledging the handful of vampires who happily greeted him as he passed.
Finally he was out of that room. Everything felt disconcerted and fuzzy - from his brain to his limbs. But at least he could hear himself think now. He turned the corner to head back up to the Hall of Princes. All he wanted in this moment was to go sit with Paris and talk about literally anything but Kurda.
Five years away from the mountain and you wasted a whole hour stuck in a pointless, uncomfortable conversation with some arrogant General? He chastised himself furiously as he put as much distance between himself and that hall as he could. But of course, nothing is ever simple or easy in Mika's life. To his enormous irritation he could hear Renley chasing after him like a determined sheepdog. Except Mika would've stopped to pet a dog.
"My gods, would you just stop for a minute?" He heard Renley pant. "Come on, Mika. Slow down!"
"I used to think you were confident, but the fact that you're still talking to me suggests you're just stupid." Mika snapped without pausing or turning around.
"Look, I get it, alright? It wasn't my intention to throw more dirt on Smahlt's name. At least, not any more than he already has himself."
"I'll have you fucking demoted. I can do that."
"But you won't, because that would be petty and your reputation has taken enough hits since-"
"What do you WANT from me?!" Mika cut him off viciously, wheeling around to face Renley directly. He put up a good fight but his temper finally reached a critical peak and he could no longer keep it in check. He didn't remember the moment he threw his mostly-empty mug. He certainly didn't mean to. But it made a thunderous crack as it sailed past Renley's head and smashed against the stone wall beside him. "Do you have nothing better to do?! Don't you have friends your own age? Charna's Fucking Guts! What the hell do you think this is?"
"I think I thought your aim was better than that." Said Renley with a halfhearted smirk, gesturing down at the broken mug on the floor.
"That was a warning shot." Mika growled. "Next one won't miss."
"There's a flaw in your plan, Sire Ver Leth." Renley answered. And just like that, his voice was soft and smooth once more. Something about the way he said the last three words made Mika's skin crawl. Renley took a slow step forward.
"And what's that?"
"I don't see a second mug in your hand. It appears you've used your only ammunition. So why don't you just come back to the party and get another one? This was supposed to be your night. I can't live with myself knowing I ruined it. Please?"
As quickly as Mika felt his temper rise, it had fizzled back down to a low burn. He no longer had it in him to rain hell upon the irksome young General in front of him.
"I'm tired. It's been a long trip." Said Mika numbly. "I'm going to bed. I'll forget you bothered me, if you forget I threw an object at your head. Deal?"
Renley stared down at Mika with that same unreadable look he'd worn earlier after first mentioning Kurda. It was a bit of sadness, a healthy sprinkle of pity, a touch of amusement, and a whole lot of curiosity. And Mika could honestly say no one had ever looked at him in that precise manner before. That alone was disarming. And it was compounded by the fact that Renley was taller than Mika - who was by no means short himself. He wasn't used to anyone gazing down at him, especially not with that many emotions on their face. There they stood for several long moments in that quiet hallway, staring each other down as the air between them simmered with tension.
"You know, I was in one of the meetings on your first day back after he was exiled - you probably don't even remember."
"I remember a lot of things about that week. But I guarantee you weren't one of them." Mika shot back rather nastily.
"Fair enough. But the look in your eyes was just... like nothing I'd ever seen before. And my gods, those eyes..." Renley's voice trailed off.
"What do you want from me? And I know you want something." Mika repeated, voice sounding hollow and faraway and unfamiliar.
Renley sighed disconsolately.
"Not everyone is out to use you, Mika. I'm sorry you feel that way, but your brain is lying to you. I don't want anything, other than to remind you're worth so much more than what Kurda Smahlt reduced you to. You deserve someone who fights at your side, not puts a knife in your back. Who respects who you are, not the power you wield... in case no one else has bothered to tell you."
"It doesn't matter if that's true or not." Said Mika, voice low and fractured. "It didn't help me then and it doesn't help me now."
Renley's burning gaze traced up and down Mika's body as he stood silently for a long minute.
"Gods, look at you." He sighed at last, his voice reduced to a low, almost longing groan. "To think he let you go just like that... Smahlt must've been more fucked in the head than any of us thought."
Mika didn't mean to let his guard down. Maybe it was the whiskey. Maybe it was the sheer exhaustion from the trip. Maybe it was the overwhelming relief at being home. But when Renley closed the distance between them, there was a split second where Mika knew what was about to happen. Later he'd tell himself it happened so quickly he didn't have time to react. But that wasn't the case. He saw it coming, like a freight train. He could've gotten out of the way. He had time.
But for a moment, Mika let it happen. Just for that single moment suspended in time, he let the logical centre of his brain power down. Let himself be pushed against the wall and kissed unapologetically as Renley's hands roamed beneath Mika's shirt, down over his body, fingers eventually hooking into his belt loops and roughly pulling Mika's hips into his. For that moment, Kurda didn't exist. The war wasn't real. Mika was free.
Renley relocated his hands abruptly, with the clear intention of pinning Mika's wrists above his head. Funnily enough, that had always been Mika's own signature move when things were getting hot and heavy - to put it poetically. How odd it felt to be on the receiving end of a bit of dominance. And with that said, he didn't exactly hate it.
But he'd have to unpack that unfamiliar notion that another time. The aggravation to his damaged shoulder sent a shockwave of pain through Mika's body, ripping him back to reality. A tangible reminder of all the trauma from the past six years that that had cumulated with Mika literally backed into a corner, making out with some promiscuous, overhyped, shit-talking hotshot who might someday amount to HALF of what Kurda Smahlt was. IF he was lucky. And that was a big if.
Mika winced in pain and Renley recoiled, his face a mask of concern as he stared intently into Mika's face.
"What's wrong?" He murmured softly.
Mika shook his head slowly and for a moment there were two Renleys looking back at him. Fuck... Mika knew he was drunk but he didn't realize just how drunk. One minute he'd been having a great time with great friends, and now... what the fuck even was this?
"Are you okay? Did I do something wrong?" Renley pressed. His voice was low and deep with worry. His hand lightly brushed up against Mika's cheek but Mika swiftly grabbed him by the wrist and practically threw Renley's own limb back at him.
"I am never going to fuck you, Renley." Mika snarled decisively through gritted teeth, with all the bone-chilling venom as he could muster. And with the way Renley had been talking about Kurda, he could muster quite a bit. With that, Mika turned on his heel and walked away, leaving Renley slackjawed and red-faced.
About ten steps away, Mika paused once more. He swung back around to shoot Renley one last glare.
"By the way, I suggest you keep Kurda Smahlt's name out of your mouth in future. I'll take your advice, though. I think I will return to the party. As you said, it's my night after all. I don't care where you go, as long as you stay out of my way. Good night."
Now tell me: how did all my dreams turn to nightmares?
How did I lose it when I was right there?
Now I'm so far that it feels like it's all gone to pieces
Tell me why the world never fights fair
I'm trying to find
Home
I hope you guys don't feel like storming my house with pitchforks but I won't blame you if you do. Just message me first and I'll put the coffee on. But with that said, ironically I hate this chapter a lot less than some of the recent ones? I know it was hard to read for obvious reasons but like? I thought it was sort of an interesting challenge for Mika that was entirely different than what he's had to deal with so far? I know it was a little chaotic and all over the place but if you've ever had a weird conversation at a party, you get it.
Also sorry for producing another OC with no purpose besides forcing Mika to confront the things he doesn't want to think about. I just thought it would be a really interesting exchange, but couldn't see a canonical character filling that role. So Renley was born. Maybe he'll be back. Maybe he won't. Who knows? Not me.
In other news Mika fucking hates me. Next chapter might be up sometime over the weekend? We won't be following canon toooo much longer, because we all know after the beginning of Book 7, Mr. Shan leaves Vampire Mountain forever and everything that happens after that matters very little to me if I'm being brutally honest. But we're sticking with canon as far as the first few chapters of Hunters Of The Dusk goes. So you can probably guess what fresh bullshit Mika gets to deal with next. He's in for just a Tiny bit of a bad day.
Thanks for going through this with me. As always, feedback is treasured. Every single word fuels my soul. Happy Thanksgiving to any Americans out there - sending all my love, but also hand sanitizer, from Canada! Stay safe friends :)
- Roxy