Author's Note:
To blackblade(2): sorry for the confusion in regards to Mike and Darcy. He
really does love her, and never has been married before. However, from my
two previous fics, I have seen their relationship the result as sexual
tension. The arguing the outlet in which they feed from. Not to mention,
they do enjoy teasing one another. But, yes, they do love one another.
As for the story, there is still one more chapter. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ------------------------
October 31, 2005, 955 PM, 20 miles outside of London, England
Once the official ceremony was completed, the Justice of the Peace hightailed his way out, a little too quick to climb into his car, a little too quick to speed away. "Perhaps we were a little too much for him?" whispered Darcy.
Mike grinned lightly, leaning close to her ear to whisper back, "He should work on his sense of humor then."
Darcy smiled, moving to whisper something more to him, when a "Yoo hoo!" filled the air. "My mother," groaned Darcy. "Do be civil to her, please. Pretend you love me."
"I did just marry you, Darce. I don't how much more this charade I can handle." He leaned in to kiss her, little quicker than either would have liked, but no less sweet, before they proceeded to brace themselves for Mrs. Gallagher, who was still holding her grandson.
Elsewhere, while Darcy and Mike slowly made their rounds, thanking the guests, accepting the congratulations, Richie and Asher stood just slightly off to the side. Richie was chatting with Mike's eighteen year old kid brother, while his girlfriend proceeded to tell Asher just what it was about the wedding she would like to remember her own. Richie did not miss the helpless glances Asher kept shooting his way, though both their conversation partners did. Both felt the 'buzz' at the same time, looking first to one another, and then to the direction it came from.
"Would you please excuse me?" apologized Asher. She handed her unsipped champagne to Richie, shaking her head the slightest, when he made to follow her. "Friend of the couple?" she asked companionably of the other Immortal, coming up to the woman's left.
"I'm the groom's aunt, Emilia du Luc, married to his father's oldest brother. However, I am currently Emily Ross. You would be?"
"Asher Jacobs. A friend of the bride."
"How quaint. I give the marriage a week." The smile she flashed was not kind. Dressed in a genuine medieval gown, her sword belted at her waist, in its sheath. "We should have sufficient privacy in the woods."
"I did not come to fight you."
"Pity," laughed Emilia again. "Weddings always make me more sentimental, always reminding me of what I lost, and of what I need to revenge. From the looks of what I saw pass, it is your boyfriend, you are here with. Also, Immortal. I shall take your head and his."
"You will not keep your head long enough to."
Emilia grinned, swallowed the last of her champagne, and gestured for Asher to follow her to the woods. She cast one backwards glance to Richie, whose eyes were following her to the tightly clustered trees.
"Dude, that woman is crazy," echoed Mike's kid brother, pulling Richie from the reverie of his thoughts.
"Pardon?"
"She's crazy," the boy repeated, to which his girlfriend nodded. "She's caught in this time warp or something, where she keeps insisting she needs to avenge her family. And, she keeps claiming to be like over a thousand years old or something, born in the age of Vikings. Something about not dying. Crazy, huh?"
"Crazy," agreed Richie. "Will you excuse me?"
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- --------------------
"Now, darling, are you sure you want to live in the States? So far? Knowing no one?"
"I know Mike," sighed Darcy. "I promise you, Mum, I will be ok."
"Oh, I know you will, honey. Only, my baby girl is married now."
Sighing again, Darcy hugged her mother wordlessly, noticing Richie over her mother's shoulder. "Would you excuse me, Mum? Colin's fussing again. This had better be good, Ryan," she hissed, once she had extracted herself from her mother's grasp to make her way to Richie.
"Have you met Mike's Aunt Emily?"
"Well, sure. She's here, is she not? She wished us congratulations several times over?" Darcy narrowed her eyes. "Why?"
"No reason," shrugged Richie. "Just if you see her or Asher, tell me, I'm looking for them, please."
"Of course," agreed Darcy, but Richie had already turned away. She felt the pair of arms circle her waist, the slight pressure of a vampire's kiss on her neck. "Seems your aunt has developed quite the reputation," she whispered. The kisses stopped.
"Ruin the moment, don't you?" mumbled the male. "Emily, you mean? She's harmless. Why?"
"Richie asked me of her," she shrugged. "So," she turned her head upwards to face her husband, eyebrows wriggling, "time for cake?"
"Just about. Why?"
"Because I have decided the cake frosting will look much better on you than on the cake."
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ------------------------------------------------------------------------
In the shadows of the trees, the two swords clashed, weaving in and out, in the form of a complicated dance. Asher had removed her black sweater-coat and hat, and they remained where she had thrown them in the first moments of the fight, at the base of a large tree. Emilia had pulled her hair back, and ignored the muddiness at the hems of her dress.
Emilia thrusted, but Asher parried the stroke, retaliating with one of her own, piercing Emilia's right side. "A very sharp technique you have there, Miss Jacobs. You must have had a well-skilled mentor."
"Pity. I wish I could say the same of you," she spat. Something in the swordfights always brought out her natural defense and her sarcasm. "Been some time since your last practice?"
Emilia responded with a front thrust, ripping Asher's shirt, slashing the sword across her stomach. "You were saying, my dear?"
Wiping her free hand across her stomach, she was only slightly surprised when her fingers lifted coated in blood. In the adrenaline rush, she had not felt the pain. A grimace written on her face, the two Immortal women circled a few more times, before Asher stepped lightly to the left, faking a sword thrust, rushing to Emilia's left side, again piercing the skin. "Two wounds to one, du Luc. Shall we call quits?"
"A problem which can be easily remedied, Jacobs. Keep fighting."
Tiring now, and feeling the loss of blood, the land swayed under her feet, Asher blinked her eyes, moving clumsily to her left, in attempt to parry Emilia's technique, only to step directly into the path of her blade. This time she felt the slash, first across her arm, followed by the searing pain in her chest. She fell to her knees, looking up to the woman, who showed no mercy in her face.
"There can be only one," screamed Emilia, raising her sword, to take her final strike, but bracing herself against a tree, Asher rose unsteadily to her feet. Sword raised before her, she blocked Emilia's blow, only to impale her on the sword tip.
"There can be only one," she echoed, removing her sword, and taking the woman's head. In the first swirls of power and lightening, she collapsed.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- --------------------------------------------------------------
Richie hurried through the part in the trees, following the scent of a fresh quickening. He first glanced Asher sprawled, unmoving on the ground, sword next to her, the blood still fresh on its blade. He swore lightly under his breath, rushing to her side, fearing the worst, when he noticed she still had her head attached. He first noticed the other body, that of a headless woman, lying nearby. He did his best to hide it, dragging it beneath some underbrush, coming to sit again next to Asher, to wait for her to wake.
It was some time before she did. The groan was nearly inaudible, the movement as she struggled to sit, stiff in form. "Did I?" she asked, seeing Richie.
He knew she did not ask after the Quickening, and he nodded. "Yes, you did. For almost thirty minutes now. You had me worried."
"Oh, god, Richie, I had to. She threatened you, us, everything we had built."
She felt the tears roll down her cheeks, she felt Richie's gentle touch as he brushed them away, she felt herself fall into his arms, felt his arms surround her, felt herself cry into his shoulder.
For several moments, they stayed as they were. Half sitting, half kneeling in the dirt and amongst the fallen auntumn leaves, clinging to one another in desperation, the only sound being Asher's wrenching sobs. In a world seemingly eons away, a newly-married couple, stood before the cake, having not fed it one another, but started an all-out food war, with only the food nailed down being safe. Both bride and groom wore more food than their mouths had tasted, and were kissing now, to the sound of cheering.
But Richie and Asher stayed where they were. Aware of only the presence of the other.
As for the story, there is still one more chapter. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ------------------------
October 31, 2005, 955 PM, 20 miles outside of London, England
Once the official ceremony was completed, the Justice of the Peace hightailed his way out, a little too quick to climb into his car, a little too quick to speed away. "Perhaps we were a little too much for him?" whispered Darcy.
Mike grinned lightly, leaning close to her ear to whisper back, "He should work on his sense of humor then."
Darcy smiled, moving to whisper something more to him, when a "Yoo hoo!" filled the air. "My mother," groaned Darcy. "Do be civil to her, please. Pretend you love me."
"I did just marry you, Darce. I don't how much more this charade I can handle." He leaned in to kiss her, little quicker than either would have liked, but no less sweet, before they proceeded to brace themselves for Mrs. Gallagher, who was still holding her grandson.
Elsewhere, while Darcy and Mike slowly made their rounds, thanking the guests, accepting the congratulations, Richie and Asher stood just slightly off to the side. Richie was chatting with Mike's eighteen year old kid brother, while his girlfriend proceeded to tell Asher just what it was about the wedding she would like to remember her own. Richie did not miss the helpless glances Asher kept shooting his way, though both their conversation partners did. Both felt the 'buzz' at the same time, looking first to one another, and then to the direction it came from.
"Would you please excuse me?" apologized Asher. She handed her unsipped champagne to Richie, shaking her head the slightest, when he made to follow her. "Friend of the couple?" she asked companionably of the other Immortal, coming up to the woman's left.
"I'm the groom's aunt, Emilia du Luc, married to his father's oldest brother. However, I am currently Emily Ross. You would be?"
"Asher Jacobs. A friend of the bride."
"How quaint. I give the marriage a week." The smile she flashed was not kind. Dressed in a genuine medieval gown, her sword belted at her waist, in its sheath. "We should have sufficient privacy in the woods."
"I did not come to fight you."
"Pity," laughed Emilia again. "Weddings always make me more sentimental, always reminding me of what I lost, and of what I need to revenge. From the looks of what I saw pass, it is your boyfriend, you are here with. Also, Immortal. I shall take your head and his."
"You will not keep your head long enough to."
Emilia grinned, swallowed the last of her champagne, and gestured for Asher to follow her to the woods. She cast one backwards glance to Richie, whose eyes were following her to the tightly clustered trees.
"Dude, that woman is crazy," echoed Mike's kid brother, pulling Richie from the reverie of his thoughts.
"Pardon?"
"She's crazy," the boy repeated, to which his girlfriend nodded. "She's caught in this time warp or something, where she keeps insisting she needs to avenge her family. And, she keeps claiming to be like over a thousand years old or something, born in the age of Vikings. Something about not dying. Crazy, huh?"
"Crazy," agreed Richie. "Will you excuse me?"
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- --------------------
"Now, darling, are you sure you want to live in the States? So far? Knowing no one?"
"I know Mike," sighed Darcy. "I promise you, Mum, I will be ok."
"Oh, I know you will, honey. Only, my baby girl is married now."
Sighing again, Darcy hugged her mother wordlessly, noticing Richie over her mother's shoulder. "Would you excuse me, Mum? Colin's fussing again. This had better be good, Ryan," she hissed, once she had extracted herself from her mother's grasp to make her way to Richie.
"Have you met Mike's Aunt Emily?"
"Well, sure. She's here, is she not? She wished us congratulations several times over?" Darcy narrowed her eyes. "Why?"
"No reason," shrugged Richie. "Just if you see her or Asher, tell me, I'm looking for them, please."
"Of course," agreed Darcy, but Richie had already turned away. She felt the pair of arms circle her waist, the slight pressure of a vampire's kiss on her neck. "Seems your aunt has developed quite the reputation," she whispered. The kisses stopped.
"Ruin the moment, don't you?" mumbled the male. "Emily, you mean? She's harmless. Why?"
"Richie asked me of her," she shrugged. "So," she turned her head upwards to face her husband, eyebrows wriggling, "time for cake?"
"Just about. Why?"
"Because I have decided the cake frosting will look much better on you than on the cake."
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ------------------------------------------------------------------------
In the shadows of the trees, the two swords clashed, weaving in and out, in the form of a complicated dance. Asher had removed her black sweater-coat and hat, and they remained where she had thrown them in the first moments of the fight, at the base of a large tree. Emilia had pulled her hair back, and ignored the muddiness at the hems of her dress.
Emilia thrusted, but Asher parried the stroke, retaliating with one of her own, piercing Emilia's right side. "A very sharp technique you have there, Miss Jacobs. You must have had a well-skilled mentor."
"Pity. I wish I could say the same of you," she spat. Something in the swordfights always brought out her natural defense and her sarcasm. "Been some time since your last practice?"
Emilia responded with a front thrust, ripping Asher's shirt, slashing the sword across her stomach. "You were saying, my dear?"
Wiping her free hand across her stomach, she was only slightly surprised when her fingers lifted coated in blood. In the adrenaline rush, she had not felt the pain. A grimace written on her face, the two Immortal women circled a few more times, before Asher stepped lightly to the left, faking a sword thrust, rushing to Emilia's left side, again piercing the skin. "Two wounds to one, du Luc. Shall we call quits?"
"A problem which can be easily remedied, Jacobs. Keep fighting."
Tiring now, and feeling the loss of blood, the land swayed under her feet, Asher blinked her eyes, moving clumsily to her left, in attempt to parry Emilia's technique, only to step directly into the path of her blade. This time she felt the slash, first across her arm, followed by the searing pain in her chest. She fell to her knees, looking up to the woman, who showed no mercy in her face.
"There can be only one," screamed Emilia, raising her sword, to take her final strike, but bracing herself against a tree, Asher rose unsteadily to her feet. Sword raised before her, she blocked Emilia's blow, only to impale her on the sword tip.
"There can be only one," she echoed, removing her sword, and taking the woman's head. In the first swirls of power and lightening, she collapsed.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- --------------------------------------------------------------
Richie hurried through the part in the trees, following the scent of a fresh quickening. He first glanced Asher sprawled, unmoving on the ground, sword next to her, the blood still fresh on its blade. He swore lightly under his breath, rushing to her side, fearing the worst, when he noticed she still had her head attached. He first noticed the other body, that of a headless woman, lying nearby. He did his best to hide it, dragging it beneath some underbrush, coming to sit again next to Asher, to wait for her to wake.
It was some time before she did. The groan was nearly inaudible, the movement as she struggled to sit, stiff in form. "Did I?" she asked, seeing Richie.
He knew she did not ask after the Quickening, and he nodded. "Yes, you did. For almost thirty minutes now. You had me worried."
"Oh, god, Richie, I had to. She threatened you, us, everything we had built."
She felt the tears roll down her cheeks, she felt Richie's gentle touch as he brushed them away, she felt herself fall into his arms, felt his arms surround her, felt herself cry into his shoulder.
For several moments, they stayed as they were. Half sitting, half kneeling in the dirt and amongst the fallen auntumn leaves, clinging to one another in desperation, the only sound being Asher's wrenching sobs. In a world seemingly eons away, a newly-married couple, stood before the cake, having not fed it one another, but started an all-out food war, with only the food nailed down being safe. Both bride and groom wore more food than their mouths had tasted, and were kissing now, to the sound of cheering.
But Richie and Asher stayed where they were. Aware of only the presence of the other.
