A lot could change in two hundred years. Two centuries was plenty of time for learning and self-discovery - something Nadja had experienced firsthand after her death, transformation and subsequent escape from Antipaxos. There was a name for what she had become, for starters: vampire. And there were more of them! Hundreds, maybe even thousands, just like her, who lived happily in the dark crevices of almost every city, town or village Nadja had traveled to. A whole separate society bubbling just under the surface of human civilization, complete with its own rules, customs, and governing body.

It was a life beyond what she had ever hoped for in her little village, although her thoughts often drifted back to her first home. Her family would be long dead now, she realized; Nadja had outlived them all.

But now she had a new family: she was married! Not simply wedded off to the first man in her village willing to trade her father a flock of sheep for her hand, but truly, properly married to - and not to mention madly in love with - the most wonderful man she could imagine.

Nadja's eyes would still well up with happy tears if she recalled the ceremony for more than a fleeting instant. (Not that she'd ever let anyone other than her husband see that and survive - she had a reputation these days.) She and her betrothed had stood before one of the elders in the dimly lit Vampiric Council catacombs, their clasped hands bound together with a red silk ribbon. The rites were said, they each drank from a gold chalice containing their mingled blood, and then Nadja was declared his wife. His wife!

Laszlo.

Her sweet, passionate, darling husband. Nadja had turned him almost the moment she laid eyes on him, and Laszlo had proposed soon after. It had been a whirlwind romance by both human and vampiric standards, but Nadja had no regrets.

That had been fifty years ago, and she still fell for him again every night of her undead life. It was true that they both took lovers whenever the mood struck - sometimes they'd even share their latest plaything - but when the fun was over, Laszlo was the only one Nadja wanted to spend her eternity with. He was the one who nestled up to her when dawn broke, the pair of them squeezed into her coffin, cuddled together.

The couple had taken up residence in London, in one of the many stately apartments belonging to the Cravensworth line. It had been decades since Nadja had known hardship, although she never quite forgot it.

Now, instead of huddling with her siblings for warmth and wondering where her next meal was coming from, her nights were spent basking in the golden glow of a crackling fireplace and luxuriating in the sensation of a pleasantly full belly while the love of her eternal life played her a song on his well-worn piano. Warmth, home, and food - once things she had to claw for - were now closer than ever.

London had no shortage of victims whose sudden death would make life easier for some destitute soul. There was always a miserly landlord, an abusive husband, or a corrupt politician whose mysterious and untimely demise would be subject to a less-than-thorough investigation.

It was easier to hunt with a partner by her side. Laszlo didn't mind her pickiness when it came to victims, and he was often eager to suggest old friends who had wronged him or clubs that had excluded him for them to prey upon.

They were headed to one such club that night. Laszlo had chosen it because of some petty argument over dress codes, but it looked fancy and exclusive enough that Nadja was sure they'd eat well.

"First my dear," Laszlo said. He unhooked their linked arms and reached into his waistcoat pocket. He produced a small box, which he handed to her. "Happy anniversary."

"Oh darling…" Nadja said, eagerly unwrapping it. Gifts had been so rare until she had met Laszlo, but now he seemed determined to spoil her enough to make up for the two hundred years before they had met.

Inside the box was a golden ring engraved with a simple N. Nadja slid it onto her finger and smiled. "It's lovely."

"Not nearly as lovely as you, my dear." Laszlo said. He kissed the ring, and then gently kissed the back of her hand. "Now, let us have our feast. Only the finest for my wife."


"Satisfied, my beauty?" Laszlo asked Nadja as they strolled arm in arm through the foggy streets. She had insisted that they walk back to their apartment, and Laszlo was always happy to indulge his wife, even if he did prefer using his vampiric abilities.

Nadja hummed contentedly, stopping to press a brief but passionate kiss to her husband's lips. Laszlo could still taste the blood of their latest victim on her tongue. They had indulged in a sampling of almost every guest at the club, giggling as they lured each one away together. By the end of the party, it had been more than the wine in their victims' blood that had left them dazed, and the pair had left.

"Ladies first." Laszlo said as he turned the key in the lock and ushered Nadja inside. She was leaning against his side now. "Are you feeling alright, my love?" He asked.

Nadja sank down onto the edge of their four-poster bed, all her previous giddiness gone. "I am fine, Laszlo. It must be all their second-hand wine, I am rather sensitive to these things."

Laszlo was feeling a little lightheaded himself, so he didn't think much of it. "I do find myself a little dizzy, but I must confess your presence is often the cause."

Nadja smiled, but it soon turned to a grimace. "It must have been strong wine."

"The chaps gambling in the corner were on to the whiskey by the time we got to them…" Laszlo recalled.

"Gamblers," Nadja hissed. "Tell me I didn't consume any, they're always so bloody miserable!"

"Well, some of those chaps did taste a bit melancholy, although I don't have as much of a sophisticated palette as you - I overheard one confess to gambling away quite a bit of the family fortune, as it were…" Laszlo said as he unlaced his boots and set them neatly at the foot of the bed. He looked up just in time to see Nadja wince and fold her arms protectively across her middle. "Alright, my darling?"

She nodded tersely. "Just need to get out of this bloody dress."

Laszlo tossed his unbuttoned waistcoat away with a flourish, always happy to help his good lady wife undress, especially since it often led to several rounds of passionate lovemaking. Eagerly he helped her shed layers of red silk and black lace, pressing lazy, open-mouthed kisses up and down her neck as he went. Finally, he undid the laces of her stays, noting Nadja's groan of relief when her shoulders slumped forward after hours of such rigid upright posture.

"Better?" Laszlo chuckled softly. "Now, what say you to a bit of -" He reached around to untie the front of her chemise, but Nadja stopped him with a hand over his own.

"Not tonight, my darling." She said, turning to face him but not meeting his gaze.

Worry seized Laszlo's heart - this wasn't like Nadja at all, had he done something wrong? He thought to ask as much, but before he could get the words out, Nadja's stomach rumbled audibly. She inhaled sharply, pressing both hands to her belly as her face scrunched up in discomfort.

"Indigestion?" Laszlo asked. Nadja made a small, pained sound that he interpreted as an agreement. "I suppose we did overindulge somewhat this evening…" He conceded with an expression of sympathy.

"Lie down with me?" Nadja asked, sounding unusually vulnerable. Laszlo nearly melted right then and there.

"Of course, my love."

The bed was an ornate, seldom used thing; a relic from his human days, only really there for when they got tired of fucking on the walls and ceiling. Still, it was exquisitely comfortable, and Laszlo was very glad they hadn't gotten rid of it. They could sleep anywhere after all, as long as there was ancestral dirt beneath them.

Once Nadja was settled, he crawled in beside her and pulled the covers up before gathering his wife in his arms, her back pressed to his chest. It wasn't long before Laszlo felt Nadja's entire body tense in pain once more, and she wasn't quite able to stifle another whimper. Laszlo kissed the sensitive spot just behind her ear, and his hand found its way to her middle. He could practically feel her abdomen cramping under his palm.

"Oh for fuck's sake Laszlo, I already told you I'm not in the mood! I -" Nadja stopped dead when Laszlo began to rub her aching stomach in soothing circular motions. He heard her sigh, and felt the tension begin flowing out of her body almost immediately.

"I'm sorry you're not well, darling." Laszlo murmured. "I shouldn't have insisted we drain that last fellow…"

"You don't feel…?" Nadja trailed off as she winced once more.

"How best may I take care of you?" Laszlo asked gently.

Nadja had no idea how she was expected to respond. Her parents and her older siblings had obviously cared for her at some point, but those memories had been distant, foggy things even when she was still human. Now, literal lifetimes later, such a question - even coming from the person she cared for most for, who cared for her most - left her dumbfounded.

Laszlo kissed the curve where her neck joined her shoulder. "Please, darling, tell me how I can help." He said, switching tactics with his hand to gently but firmly knead at her belly - anything to help his poor wife relax.

Nadja's eyes were closed. "I'm not sure…"

"There's nothing?" Laszlo tried again. "Nothing more I can do to make you feel better?"

"I don't know!" Nadja snapped. "It's not like I can even remember the last time anyone tried to take care of me!"

Laszlo's heart hadn't beat in fifty years, but he felt it break nonetheless. "Oh, Nadja…" He breathed.

"I don't need your pity!"

Pity? How could anyone think that he would ever feel sorry for the ethereal, imposing, exquisitely beautiful creature that was his wife? Sympathy, yes, but never pity. Laszlo was still struggling for the right words when Nadja groaned again, burying her face in the pillow.

"I - of course not, my love, I would never." His free hand found hers under the covers, and he laced their fingers together. "I just can't stand to see you hurting so." Laszlo explained, giving her hand a quick squeeze.

"Just…" Nadja's voice was noticeably softer now. She reached for his hand that had stilled on her tummy. "Don't stop." She whined.

Laszlo resumed his careful massage, glad that anything he could do was helping to ease the pain, and felt some more of the tension in her body fade. He hummed quietly, a half-written song of his own composing, and Nadja smiled a little. Laszlo continued to cradle her, even after she fell into an uneasy sleep.

Laszlo wasn't quite sure what had managed to upset her stomach like that, but he resolved to make sure he was always there to take care of her if it ever happened again. His beloved Nadja had always been headstrong - after all, she'd spent over two hundred years fending for herself - but just because his wife wasn't used to being cared for, that didn't mean she had to keep all of her pain to herself.

Just before Laszlo fell asleep, he recalled his vows from half a century ago and mentally added another: to make sure that his beloved Nadja never suffered alone again.


A/N: This fic is a joint effort by a Brit and a Yank, so apologies if our spelling and our colloquialisms are all over the place.