These days, Julian's study acted as his boardroom for the conclaves and various clan meetings. The oblong. mahogany table took up majority of the room, sparing only the very back from it's formality; two highback chairs faced the fireplace, one of which only ever occupied by ghosts of the past and cool respite in the form of the main balcony's entrance. Utilitarianism was not in his nature – still, when the Prince had decided to hold the various proceedings here no one questioned it. He would never admit it was because this was the one room in the entire mansion that he truly felt was his, the one room where he felt the most comfortable, despite and even in spite of the memory-shadows that flickered in the firelight from time to time.
He heard the lecture on the same level that he heard the fire crackle, background noise – audible but commonplace. With each turn of the page, his sire's words were less and less distinguishable from the flamesong. Reading had always been an escape. The words hardly mattered, Julian could recite line of this particular volume – Don Quixote – from memory. The act in itself was calming, a means of freeing the mind and shifting one's attention if only for a moment –
"Julian?"
The Prince looked up from the book, a silent acknowledgement of Cash's presence.
"There's been an incident," Cash said rather reluctantly. Julian was already rising from his chair. "At the Haven –"
"What?" the glow of blue in the Prince's eyes as he turned to face his bodyguard – the Gangrel took an involuntary step backwards. Without bothering to say anything more, Cash opened the door to Julian's study and nodded at someone without. The scent of dried blood assaulted him as Elena Franco was inelegantly shoved through. The Prince glared at her with his white-blue eyes. "Leave us," he ordered.
Elena watched as the Prince clasped his hands behind his back, preferring to direct his gaze out towards the balcony rather than at her. The Brujah blood had been cleaned from her hand, albeit a little abrasively, before she was allowed before the Prince. Still, flecks of it remained underneath her fingernails. She smelled of violence, and the brown-red trace of her brawl seemed glaringly magnified against the dominant ivory of the room. It made her feel oddly self-conscious.
"I'm glad to see that you atleast have the intelligence to keep your mouth shut," the Prince said after a moment, blue-white eyes carefully falling upon the darkened tips of Elena's fingernails. She did not meet his gaze when he moved to examine her face. "What happened?"
Elena considered.
A loud exhalation from the Prince. "I thought you were only passing through."
"Are you going to kill me because of this indiscretion, my Prince?"
"I might. No doubt someone wants your blood at the moment. What happened? I won't ask again."
"I made a point of breaking a Brujah's nose. It may have been a bit reckless."
"Perfect," Julian muttered. The primal blue of his eyes had subsided.
"I was looking out for the good of the clan," Elena decided to add.
"The good of the clan?" A momentary flash of the predatory eyes. "By causing havoc in my city?"
"I told you – it may have been a little reckless on my part."
Julian let out an exasperated laugh in spite of himself. "The Haven acts as Elysium. No such actions are ever to take place there." He glanced at her. "The Brujah Primogen will be here shortly I imagine. I am going to the balcony – we may need the cool air."
Elena waited until the Prince had left the room before she followed after him. Gossamer curtains danced idly in the breeze as she walked onto the balcony. Julian stood looking out over the gardens that filled the back of his estate; his hands were still clasped behind his back. She wondered if he was resisting the urge to hit her and with that thought, decided to keep a few steps back of him. The smell of the air spoke little of danger, but she knew all too well the duality of a Ventrue's temperament. Granted, risk was inherent to the best payoffs.
The door to the study opened, footsteps . . . when Aaron Cavenaugh appeared at the threshold of the doorway, Elena resisted the urge to smile. "Sire, excuse my interruption," he said.
"Don't tell me you're a part of this as well, Aaron," Julian commented without bothering to look at the lesser Ventrue.
Cavenaugh took a step onto the balcony but no closer. "I'm here to formally ask for leniency regarding . . ." he nodded in Elena's direction.
Julian regarded Elena curiously. "And this is all in the name of clan solidarity?" he asked of Cavenaugh.
"Not exactly. This is about – "
"Saving face," Elena interjected. "Isn't it always, with us?"
"The Brujah were acting out of line at the Haven," the Ventrue Primogen started.
"Perhaps you can better explain what happened tonight," Julian directed.
"I brought Katrina with me, to the Haven –"
The Prince groaned, grasping the situation all too easily. He ran a hand through his hair idiosyncratically. "I see."
"Though I do not approve of the way Miss Franco dealt with the situation, you must agree that if she hadn't done anything . . . well, I would be honour-bound to, to – "
Nodding, Julian placed his hands on the balcony railing, flexing – perhaps habitually – before leaning there. The silence he cultivated was twofold, allowing him to mull over the details while also pandering to Cavenaugh's apparent anxiety. An interesting predicament. A headache, yes, but had he been forced to take action against the Brujah . . . well, his would have been neither swift nor decisive. He was a good businessman, good at micromanaging the clan, but a horrible politician.
"It was where I was taken for the first time, when close to gaining my independence," the Primogen blurted suddenly, apparently feeling the need to defend himself.
"You were raised to be a financier," Julian growled. What Katrina had been raised for went unsaid; these things were not spoken of in Ventrue society. "I imagine Cameron is here. You can send him in on your way out."
Cavenaugh looked as though he were going to say something else, protest the absent dismissal he had just received, but then thought better of it. "Yes, my Prince," he conceded before turning and leaving.
Elena took a step forward, testing the waters between herself and Julian. "His first childe?" she asked casually.
A nod. As the door to the study closed behind the Ventrue, Julian let out a short laugh. "For the good of the clan?"
Elena snorted lightly, "I may have lied about that." She shrugged, "Perhaps it was just something I wish had been done for me a long time ago.
He surveyed her body for the first time, made a show of it, stopping at her hazel eyes. Julian nodded, albeit a little solemnly; she had the looks for it, embraced to keep the lonely nights away.
A clearing of the throat brought both of their attentions to the threshold of the balcony. Cameron had a habit of sneaking up on people. Tall and lanky, he did not conjure the image of a Brujah Primogen. Still, there was an intensity to his presence, and yet, no anger behind his eyes. "Theodore's sire wants her head," he said by way of greeting, pointing to Elena.
"That seems a little out of proportion to the crime," she commented.
"She attacked one of my clanmates in public, in the Haven," Cameron exclaimed.
"Attacked? I defended – I just had to use a tactic a Brujah would understand."
"Enough," Julian warned. He glanced at Cameron and then back to the gardens. Crisp foliage bathed in moonlight. "However, I'm inclined to agree. If Elena hadn't assaulted your man, it'd be Aaron Cavenaugh here asking for blood."
"What are you talking about?"
"Your boys were harassing one of my kin."
Cameron absorbed the information, pausing for only a second or two. "The Primogen's childe? Where was Cavenaugh in all this?"
"Attending a meeting with Lillie."
Elena now saw the sort of Brujah that Cameron was – that rarefied breed her sire had warned her about, serene rather than fierce. "So, if he left her alone she should have been able to fend for herself. My boys were just having some fun."
"Lillie's Haven is Elysium," Julian said. "And your clan's penchant for harassing the young is starting to grate on my nerves, Cameron."
"Look, there was nothing stopping this girl from running back to her sire," the Brujah remarked.
"You mean, except for the two six-foot punks standing in her way," Elena rejoined. Julian put up his hand to quiet her.
"Enough." The Prince regarded the other Ventrue as he spoke to Cameron, "So, what would you have me do? Rip off her head? Right here? Right now?"
"Nah," he said. "I'm not one to overreact, but I want a boon. Owed by her to me."
"Fine," Julian agreed.
Elena eyed Cameron as he left.
"I'll be in touch," he assured her before leaving. "Don't get yourself smoked before you pay me my boon."
"Try my best to resist the urge."
Cameron laughed as he left.
"Am I dismissed too, Sire?"
"You think you're getting off with only a minor boon owed to the Brujah?" Julian remarked incredulously.
"It was worth a try."
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Author's Note: So, the romance is coming, I swear! And if anyone could toss me a review and validate my existence that would be great. I know people are reading this, thanks to my handy-dandy counter thing. C'mon. Tell me I'm writing Julian or Cameron out of character, ask me just what the hell exactly Marius did back in Boston – anything! Half the fun of writing fanfiction, is knowing that other fans like it, right? Bah, I'm no good at begging for reviews. Thanks for reading – k.ramsey