Bloodline Chapter 13: I'm Everything They Said I Would Be, a darren shan saga/cirque du freak fanfic

It Is A Chapter! And not a totally awful one!

Chapter 13: I'm Everything They Said I Would Be

Song:Angels Like You by Miley Cyrus

Flowers in hand, waiting for me
Every word in poetry
Won't call me by name, only "Baby"
The more that you give the less that I
Need everyone says I look happy
When it feels right

Mika didn't know what was more surreal, the fact that Kurda was in a relationship or the fact that Mika found out through Gracie.

It was about two months after Mika's return to Vampire Mountain when he found out. He'd had been on the phone with Gracie one night having their weekly catch-up and she mentioned she'd received a letter from him the previous day. They'd been mailing back and forth since Mika delivered that first letter six months ago; and in his most recent update he'd informed her he was casually seeing the owner of the bar he worked at. Nick, or Nolan, or something boring like that.

"Wait... you didn't know that?" Gracie asked, sounding taken aback.

"How on earth would I know? He's serving an exile sentence, Gracie." Mika had replied with more snark than he intended. "The only thing we're legally allowed to talk about is you, and I'm just fortunate my position grants me that privilege. I don't get weekly updates on his adventures."

Mika regretted his chilly tone immediately; it was a far cry from how he normally talked to Gracie. He quickly apologized, and of course she didn't hold a grudge because she was a literal angel.

"It's really not that crazy, if you think about it." Said Gracie very gently. "It's been almost seven years, Dad. I know that doesn't seem like a lot to you since you're practically immortal, but a lot can happen in that amount of time."

Mika exhaled defeatedly, and slowly relaxed his death grip on the phone's old steel receiver.

"Ugh..." he groaned. "You're so much smarter than me, Gracie. Sometimes I think you'd be better at my job than I am."

"We can test that theory any time you want." She shot back swiftly. They were thousands of miles apart but Mika could tell she was smiling mischievously.

"Deal. Let's trade." Said Mika. "You take over for me and I'll go sit at your desk and practice human law."

"You'd be terrible at my job." Gracie laughed. "You wouldn't get to make the rules. You'd end up flipping the judge off and getting disbarred. If you even passed the bar in the first place."

"I love bars, what are you talking about?"

"It's a written exam."

"Ah. So much for that plan."

"But seriously... have you ever considered, you know... dating again?" Gracie added. "Or whatever the vampire equivalent of that is?"

"Who's got the time?" Mika snorted.

"You make the time."

"Pass. Why the sudden worry?

"I don't care if you date or not, I just don't want you to be lonely. That's all." Gracie reasoned. Mika didn't miss the note of earnest concern in her voice.

"Gracie, I'm surrounded by people every second of my life. Being lonely sounds like a vacation."

"You know what I mean..."

"Don't you worry about me, alright? If you're happy, I'm happy." Mika replied decisively. Then he paused. "You're happy, right?"

"Yes. I'm very happy."

He could hear the smile in her voice again.

"Good. Then so am I." He replied firmly.

"Love you, Dad."

"Love you more, Princess."

Shortly after, they said their goodbyes. Mika hung up the phone and was abruptly alone with the thought of Kurda emotionally moving on from him. And Mika didn't have the slightest clue of where he should even begin to process that. His logical brain told him he should be at least somewhat happy that Kurda was finding peace in what had surely been a lonely existence. Kurda did an awful thing - he wasn't an awful person.

It was so complicated for so many reasons. Kurda didn't NOT deserve to be happy. But at the same time there was a sharp, jagged little piece of Mika's heart that was screaming in fury and indignation over the injustice of it all. Exile was supposed to be a punishment, and Kurda was holed up in his cozy cottage with a new fling. Meanwhile Mika had spent his first night back in Vampire Mountain viciously defending Kurda's name from Renley Azerion's jabs, and then proceeded to let himself practically get groped in the hallway by the very same loud mouthed idiot.

Kurda Smahlt has more honour in his little finger than you have in your whole stupid, chiselled body. Fucking arrogant prick, Mika vividly remembered thinking to himself as he shoved Renley aside and left him standing alone in that empty hallway.

After everything that happened, how was it still Mika's knee-jerk reaction to stand up for Kurda? He didn't even mean to, the words just materialized without conscious thought or effort. Mika knew he was still in love with Kurda. Not once in almost seven years had he even attempted to convince himself otherwise. It would've been a pointless endeavour, a waste of energy.

But the night they crossed paths for the first time after all those years apart... Mika was incapable of forgetting the way it felt to hold Kurda's knockout gorgeous body in his arms as they fucked, or made love, or whatever the hell they were doing. Both descriptions were fitting, yet neither did it justice.

The roller coaster of emotions that night, before and after the sex, were terrifying to say the least. Mika vividly remembered the moment that followed the finale - where there should have been afterglow, instead he felt himself start to spiral into a panic attack. And then Kurda halted it with just a touch of his hand and a few whispered words, as if it was nothing.

Mika knew he and Kurda could never truly be together again. Not in the way they used to be. But in that moment in Kurda's arms, he'd felt some twisted, bastardized version of hope. Hope for what, he didn't know. But it was hope all the same.

And now Kurda was with someone else and Mika really didn't know what to do with that information, so he coped by doing the most ill-advised and reckless thing he could manage within the confines of Vampire Mountain and the limited time he could spend outside of the Hall of Princes. He found his way into Renley Azerion's bed. It wasn't difficult, in fact it took minimal effort on Mika's part.

Renley was tricky to read, and Mika was good at reading people. At first Mika genuinely couldn't tell if Renley had an earnest crush on him, if he just wanted casual sex, or if he thought this would somehow benefit his career. Also, Mika didn't really care which it was. If Renley was in it for self-promotion, it wasn't going to work. Mika didn't feel a shred of emotion when he looked into those dark amber eyes. It was nothing like Kurda. Or even Arra. And to avoid any potential confusion, Mika communicated that clearly from the start.

After hooking up in Renley's room for the third night, Renley casually suggested using Mika's suite next time. Mika laughed, and then realized Renley was being serious.

"Access to my room is above your pay grade, General." Mika remarked as he stood up. He watched with satisfaction as Renley stifled a retort, presumably about the fact that Kurda had also been a General. Hell, so had Arra.

Renley sat upright in his bed and stared up at Mika with an exasperated smile. He didn't sleep in a coffin; instead he had several layers of animal skins and thick blankets laid out neatly on the floor as a makeshift sleeping area. It worked better for their purposes anyway; the average coffin is a little tight for two grown adults. Mika and Kurda only got away with it in the past because Mika's coffin was enormous.

"Whatever you say. You know you can just spend the night, right? Save your walk of shame for tomorrow." Said Renley, almost hopefully.

"You'd love that." Mika snorted derisively as he gathered his clothes from the floor and got dressed.

"I'd do no such thing. When you said no feelings allowed, I took that to heart." Renley shrugged, still smiling. "I'd just enjoy the view, is all."

"Can't blame you." Said Mika bluntly.

"I'm glad all that psychological trauma hasn't damaged your self-esteem. Sweet dreams, angel face." Renley smirked. He winked up at Mika, who rolled his eyes and made a fake gagging noise.

"You're repulsive, you know that?" Mika noted offhandedly as he pulled on his shirt. Then he walked out of the room without a backward glance.

That was their dynamic. They were both on the same page with their emotions, or lack thereof. Well, Mika occasionally got the impression that Renley felt more than he let on, but Mika had been blatantly honest from the very beginning, so he could be confident the young General wasn't labouring under any false pretences.

And the best part was that when Mika said he didn't have feelings for Renley, he knew he wasn't lying to himself. Because of Kurda, he knew the difference. Also, there had been a tiny part of him that wanted to feel something for Renley. It had been seven years since Kurda, after all. Renley was smart, attractive, funny, and successful. And Mika would never admit it but he was good in bed. It would've been a good relationship. Maybe not a great love story for the ages, but Mika had already been there done that. Anyway, it was irrelevant because Mika just didn't feel a damn thing.

What they had was easy, though. It could have been fun, if the circumstances were different. All Mika knew was that he wasn't about to complain about the fact that now he had an outlet for his copious amount of stress. The routine was simple: Work hard. Get laid. Go to bed alone. Wake up. Repeat. The system worked.

Sex was one thing, it in itself didn't have to be inherently emotional. Mika had plenty of sexual experience before Kurda. But the soft, quiet intimacy that came with sharing a sleeping area was something else entirely. Mika had let his guard down with Kurda completely, in ways he never had with anyone else. Ways he didn't think he was capable of before Kurda unlocked that part of him.

But locks can be replaced. That was why Mika didn't even blink every time Renley pinned him against the wall and jammed his tongue down his throat. Yet the first (and only) time Renley gently touched his cheek and kissed his forehead, Mika flinched like he'd been burned. Then he viciously informed Renley he'd better re-evaluate his entire life if he wanted to continue this arrangement.

"Fine." Renley had responded drily. "I'll stick to objectifying you from now on."

Then a few weeks later, Mika slipped. He'd been awake and working for 48 hours straight, and it had been a hell of a time. A heavy loss had been reported in the field. Medics had been dispatched, and one of them had been killed by a vampet. By the time Mika could leave the Hall of Princes he was so exhausted he could barely see straight. He wasn't sure if his body would even cooperate once he lay down in Renley's bed but he did know he was in dire need of stress release so he made the now-familiar trip to his unlikely friend's cell.

The next thing Mika knew, he was waking up slowly beneath a pile of soft, warm blankets and there was a thick, strong pair of arms wrapped securely around him. For one split second, he forgot where he was. For the briefest moment of time, he felt nothing but safe and warm. It was just... nice.

And then rest of his brain woke up, the part that keeps track of all the things he's worried about at any given time. And currently, the fact that he'd fallen asleep in his fuck buddy's bed was topping the list.

"What the hell, Ren? Did you drug me?!" Mika growled, instantly twisting free so he could roll over and glare at his companion.

Renley sleepily opened his eyes and stared balefully across at Mika.

"Yes, Mika. You caught me. I went to the trouble of slipping you an illicit substance. JUST so you'd stay still long enough for me to hold you just one time. My gods, you really are conceited."

"I can't think of a better explanation as to what I'm still doing here." Mika retorted irritably. Renley sighed and rolled his eyes.

"Well you came crashing in here at some ungodly hour, we did what we always do, then I waited for you to get up and leave. And I realized you'd fallen asleep." Renley explained patiently.

Mika cringed.

"In my arms. All night. Like a baby." Renley added with a self-satisfied grin.

"Gross." Mika grunted, slowly sitting up and stretching. "How long was I asleep?"

"Maybe seven hours? I didn't want to wake you. You needed it."

Renley was lying flat on his back with his arms crossed behind his head, and gazing comfortably up at Mika as though he didn't have a care in the world. Mika shot him a dagger-filled glare.

"It's not your job to worry about what I need. You're not my mate, or my boyfriend. You're barely even my friend. I wasn't lying when I said I don't have time for-"

"Don't flatter yourself, honey." Renley interrupted, his voice low and almost sensual. "I just happen to be one of the thousands of lower-class vampires who's survival depends on YOUR ability to function. So yes, I let you sleep in for an hour or two. Fight me."

"I'll fight you, alright." Said Mika disdainfully, throwing a balled-up sock at Renley's head.

"Go to work." Renley smirked, throwing it back at him. Then laughed breezily and sat up, then leaned in for a kiss which Mika expertly dodged. Mika got up quickly and went about getting dressed and out the door as quickly as he could.

I know that you're wrong for me
Gonna wish we never met on the day I leave
I brought you down to your knees
'Cause they say that misery loves company
It's not your fault I ruin everything
And it's not your fault I can't be what you need
Baby, angels like you can't fly down hell with me
I'm everything they said I would be
La-la-la
I'm everything they said I would be

Mika was perfectly aware that Paris was observing him with a mixture of concern and amusement as he walked up the aisle of the Hall of Princes to settle into his throne for the day. Paris had just finished a meeting with several vampires. Another would start soon, but for a minute or two it was just Mika and Paris.

"Sorry I'm late, Paris. Accidentally slept in. Did I miss anything?"

"Not particularly." Said Paris politely. "And no need to apologize. You've been working so hard lately. I'm sure the extra sleep was very much needed."

"I do feel better when I manage to get upwards of five hours of sleep." Said Mika wryly. "Imagine that."

"You've always been clever." Paris chuckled. "I'm sure your secret meetings with General Azerion haven't been hurting your morale either."

Mika swivelled sharply in his throne to gawk at Paris, eyes wide in shock. And he was not an easy vampire to surprise.

"You know about Renley?!"

"Please. It's obvious from the way he looks at you. It's the same way Arrow looks at a rare steak. Although your poker face is quite good, I'll give you that."

Mika frowned.

"Unlike when you and Kurda first started carrying on behind the scenes. Don't be so surprised. You know full well I can read you like a book." Paris gently added, with a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

"You knew about Kurda back then?!" Mika groaned. This was getting better and better.

"Of course I knew about Kurda. The way you two used look at each other while you argued... Plus no other vampire in this clan would get away with talking back to you the way he did." Said Paris with a smirk. He had a point there.

"Does anyone else know about Renley?" Mika growled, not wanting to dwell on the past any more than that.

"I highly doubt it. I just happen to be more observant than the average vampire." Paris reassured him with a kind smile.

Mika sighed and leaned back in his throne, running his hand discontentedly through his hair. It was getting a little longer than he would have liked, it was on the brink of tickling his shoulders.

"Oh, don't look so distraught." Said Paris, waving his wrinkled hand impatiently. "You're young and handsome, or so they say. You deserve to have a little fun!"

"I know." Mika grunted, shooting Paris a reproachful look.

"Don't look at me like that. I'm not judging you. Do you think I've never done the same thing?" Said Paris, arching his white eyebrows.

"I think I'd rather not talk to you about my sex life."

Paris scoffed.

"Mika, the last thing I want to do is discuss the gritty details of your sex life, believe me. But it does correlate with your overall wellbeing - which I care about very, very much." Said the ancient Prince seriously.

"I'd say I'm doing as well as can be expected under the circumstances." Mika replied guardedly. "Don't waste your energy worrying about me."

"Do you have feelings for Renley?" Paris asked quietly after a pause. There was a note of what almost seemed like hopefulness in his voice, and it made Mika feel irrationally bitter.

"No." Said Mika. "No feelings. We just spend time together... because we can, I guess. Gives me something to think about besides the war, and the prophecy, and Kurda, and everything else."

Paris nodded understandingly.

"I wish I had feelings for him." Mika added abruptly. There was a rough edge to his voice that hadn't been there before. "I tell myself he's into me for my power but I think he actually cares about me. He acts like he doesn't, because I've been very clear about keeping it casual. But I can tell. He didn't wake me up today... he let me sleep because he thought I needed it. That's why I'm late. Gods, I fucking wish I felt something for him."

Paris sat quietly for several moments.

"Maybe in time? Forgive me for bringing it up for the sake of drawing a comparison, but you and Kurda didn't exactly happen overnight." Paris offered gently. Mika shook his head firmly.

"Kurda was different from the start." he replied. "I just didn't recognize it at first. It wasn't love back then but it was nothing like anything I'd ever felt. And Renley's no Kurda."

"Well... maybe you don't need another Kurda." Paris mused.

"I know I don't need another Kurda."

The two Princes sat in contemplative silence for several moments. Their meeting would start shortly but for now, they appreciated a rare moment to simply enjoy each other's presence.

"One thing is certain, there will never be another Kurda. Whether we need one or not." Paris affirmed after a while. His tone was almost mournful; it caught Mika by surprise. "Sometimes I wonder how different things would be if he had been more successful." He added.

"We'd be dead, Paris. You, me, Arrow. Remember that minor detail?" Mika growled.

"I mean before that." Said Paris quickly. "If he'd achieved his goals before his investiture. If we'd lived in a world where he didn't have to take such desperate measures."

"If he'd managed to unite the clans before any of this ever happened?" Mika asked, glancing over at his old mentor in confusion.

"His failure in that regard wasn't for lack of trying." Paris murmured. "You and I both know that for a fact. The progress he did make was despite all of the forces working against him. Despite us."

"He wanted too much, too soon." Mika countered. "For better or worse, his goals were too radical to be realistic. I'm not saying he was wrong to want peace, but you have to know your audience. You have to take the clan as they are, not how you want them to be. He never seemed to understand that."

"He knew what he was doing the whole time." Paris countered ruefully. "If we'd just listened when we had the chance... but none of us wanted to hear what he had to say. I certainly didn't; I was too stuck in my ways. And even at the height of your relationship with him, you never truly took his ambitions seriously. Is that correct?"

Mika sighed wearily.

"While we were together, he acted like I was working against him when it came to politics. He thought I was close-minded, when my priority has only ever been keeping the clan safe." Mika explained softly. "I had my concerns, as I told him many times, but was never entirely opposed to unification. I told him he needed to slow down and be realistic, that it would fall into place if he played his cards right. But all he took from that was that I didn't believe in him."

"You've always been more open-minded than Arrow. Or even me." Said Paris gently. Mika shrugged.

"There's a right and a wrong way to do things. His desired outcome would have required decades if not centuries of groundwork. And he seemed to want to skip right over that and start - I don't know, inviting them to council or something." Said Mika.

"He did that. Remember?" Paris snickered.

And Mika laughed. Truly laughed like he hadn't in years. And Paris joined in, because there was nothing else they could possibly do in that moment. It was all just so ridiculous.

But all good things must come to an end, and eventually the laughter had run its course. Paris turned in his throne so he could fix Mika with a very pointed gaze. There was something strange in his bright blue eyes, an expression Mika couldn't entirely read.

"It's taken me years to get here, Mika. But I truly believe we were the ones in the wrong. There. I said it." Paris murmured at last, a district crack in his voice.

"You mean it was wrong of us to exile Kurda?" Mika asked, raising his eyebrows.

"I think we went wrong long before that night." Said Paris. "And I don't just mean us Princes. I mean the clan as a whole. Somewhere along the line, we became so stubborn, so resistant, so... arrogant. So caught up in our own definitions of honour and triumph that when Kurda caught wind of a terrifying and legitimate threat against our clan... he knew the only way to save us was by turning on us first."

Mika said nothing.

"You're not the only one who's lost countless hours of sleep over this." Paris whispered. "And now I know... he was right. I don't condone his methods but he didn't have a choice. And I believe that with my whole heart."

"I spent years torturing myself with the question of 'why didn't he tell us?'" Said Mika, his voice breaking. "But I think I've always known. That's why it hurt so much. We wouldn't have been willing to take measures drastic enough to get the job done. If we'd even taken the threat seriously in the first place."

"You've grown so much since that night, you know that?" Said Paris quietly. "And here I thought you were already in your prime before any of this happened. I was wrong. You have so much more to give."

"That's where you're wrong." Mika snapped hoarsely. "I have nothing left to give."

"I am sorry this war has tested you so harshly, Mika. But trust me when I say you haven't even scratched the surface of your true potential." Said Paris in a voice barely above a whisper. There was a tear in his eye. Mika pretended not to notice. "Since Kurda's betrayal, I've seen you fall to despair. And I've seen you rise back up in spite. You've always been smart, but Kurda made you wise. I've seen you be humbled. I've seen you slowly let go of the need to be in control."

"I didn't exactly have a choice. Look at the shit we've had to deal with." Mika replied stiffly. Paris let out a low chuckle, and reached out to squeeze Mika's shoulder. Mika wished he hadn't; he didn't need to be reminded of the fact that Paris's grip seemed to grow weaker with every passing day.

"Of course you did. The fact that you never considered the alternative only confirms you're exactly where you're meant to be. Your responsibilities are heavy, but you are strong enough to handle them."

"I can't remember the last time I handled anything." Mika objected. "These days, life handles me. All I can do is sit there and take it."

"I know that's how it feels, especially since Desmond's visit. But in case no one's told you lately, you're doing your best. And despite what you tell yourself, your best IS good enough. It always has been. No matter what happens, try to remember that." Said Paris simply.

Mika felt an unfamiliar twinge in his heart. Had... had anyone ever actually told him that? Surely in almost three hundred years it had to have happened at some point, hadn't it? Right?

Either way, he didn't have a snippy retort locked and loaded for this one. It was all he could do to keep from falling apart as he looked across at Paris and whispered,

"Thanks."

Then there came the sound of guard knocking his staff outside the doors; the Generals had arrived for the meeting. Paris touched the panel on his throne that made the doors slide open to admit them. The meeting began slowly, as meetings tend to do. And Mika felt a little lighter after his one-on-one conversation with Paris. It had been a long time since they'd had a moment to speak to each other so openly.

Mika had no way of knowing it would be the last one they'd ever have. But Paris knew. And he knew it was better that way.

I'll put you down slow, love you, goodbye
Before you let go, just one more time
Take off your clothes, pretend that it's fine
A little more hurt won't kill you
Tonight my mom says, "You don't look happy"
Close your eyes

262 YEARS AGO:

The dusty tavern on the edge of the city was just starting to liven up for the night. The sun had gone down and the snow was falling heavily outside. That only made it all the more appealing to take a seat inside and get comfortable with a hot meal and a cold drink.

"Good evening. Do you have any guest rooms available up in the inn for tonight?" Mika addressed the owner of the establishment as he sat down on one of the dusty bar stools and loudly dropped his expensive leather travel bag on the floor beside him.

"Just the suite we usually reserve for lords and dignitaries. Biggest room in the place." The owner answered, eyeing Mika curiously.

"Excellent. I'll take it." Said Mika with a curt nod. "But first, your finest cut of steak and a whiskey on ice, please."

"Rather costly night for such a young lad." The owner snorted. "You best not be playing games with me. It's my busiest night of the week, I don't have time or patience for patrons who's mouths are bigger than their coin purses."

Mika arched his eyebrows and stared back at the owner with just as much, or more, impatience. He leaned forward to rest his elbow on the bar, and made a fist with his right hand. He lazily propped his chin up on it, making sure his knuckles were directly facing the owner. This had exactly the effect he intended; the man was able to get a good look at the wide golden ring on his right middle finger.

Every one of Mika's relatives had the same ring. The bands were excessively wide on purpose, so there was no mistaking the family crest etched into the metal. And the owner recognized it right away as Mika knew he would. Power and affluence could speak volumes without saying a word.

"Ah, a Ver Leth. Which one are you?" The owner inquired. His tone was still offhanded but more polite than before.

"Does it matter?" Mika retorted wryly.

"My apologies. Here is your drink. The food will be along shortly, and in the meantime I'll fetch the paperwork to sign you into our dignitary suite."

"Thank you." Mika replied with a dry smile, a simple nod and just a touch of exasperation, as though he felt this exchange had taken much longer than it should have. The owner nodded back and retreated to the kitchen area.

Mika then sighed and rested his head in his hands for a moment. He was tired; it's not every day you disown your family and leave your home behind. He'd almost tossed the ring into the pond outside the great Ver Leth castle as he made his exit, but he was glad he hadn't. It had come in very handy just now. He knew he'd have to curb his spending habits after this, he would no longer have access to the family fortune once he ran out of what he currently had. But tonight was the first night of the rest of his life - so he was treating himself.

He hadn't noticed the other man sitting a few stools away from him until he spoke.

"What's a Ver Leth?" The man inquired politely. Mika shot him a look that wasn't quite dirty but wasn't overly friendly either. The other man looked to be in his sixties, with a neat grey beard and piercing blue eyes. He met Mika's gaze with an unconcerned smile.

"You must not be from around here." Mika smirked.

"You are correct." Said the old man. His eyes were twinkling. "But evidently you are. Something of a local celebrity, are you?"

Mika laughed harshly.

"Hah. Not a chance. My family owns the land this tavern is built on. They own half the damned county. And the owner still has to ask which one I am. Typical."

"Ah. A poor little rich boy, are you? You feel you are worthy of more recognition than you're currently getting?" Queried the older man calmly, raising one eyebrow and continuing to observe Mika with mild interest.

"It doesn't matter any more." Said Mika bitterly, taking a sip of his whiskey. The dark liquor burned his throat deliciously. "I'm done. I walked out on all of them. I don't want to coast through life on their power and influence. I don't need it. I'll make my own."

"That sounds very noble. I admire your determination." Said the old man. "But forgive me, but you hardly look old enough to be drinking that whiskey, let alone striking out on your own."

"I'm old enough to know how the world works." Mika growled. "And I'm old enough to know I'm smarter than all of my brothers put together. And yet they're the ones my father intends to leave in charge of his businesses. He finalized his will today."

"You don't like your brothers, or your father?"

"My father is just a man that sometimes lives in our house. I don't know him well enough to say whether I like him or not. And my brothers are arrogant fools who can barely count to ten, let alone successfully manage anything. They'll be bankrupt inside a year if left to their own devices."

"And you think you'd do better?"

"I don't think I would. I know I would."

"If you're as predisposed to success as you think you are, why would your father overlook you in his succession planning? Pardon my curiosity. I have been travelling alone for a long time. There is nothing I enjoy more than a conversation with a fascinating stranger." Said the old man, still smiling.

"I was born last out of six. No other reason." Mika replied flatly.

"Surely they intend to leave you something. If they own half the county, I imagine there must be plenty to go around." Said the old man gently.

"Oh, yes." Mika rolled his eyes. "They didn't forget about me, to my great surprise. I was set to inherit the hunting cabin in the north woods. No land. No business. Just a shack."

"Perhaps you just need to prove yourself worthy of more. Sounds like your father is a busy man. Perhaps his oversight was unintentional." The old man offered in a way that was much too hopeful coming from a random stranger in a bar.

"What do you think I've spent half my life trying to do? They don't see me. They don't care." Mika snapped.

"Forgive me for being bold -" said the old man with a bit of caution to his tone. "- but there is more to life than wealth and material possessions. Have you thought this through? Surely you'll miss your family and they will miss you?"

"I realize I sound ungrateful to you, but you don't know me or my family. Believe me when I tell you it's not about the money. They watched me walk out and didn't lift a finger. I don't know what I expected, though. My brother's engagement party will have started by now. Why waste time begging me to come home, when they could be celebrating that idiot getting wed to the prettiest and most air-headed woman in the city? At least their priorities are consistent."

"That's a shame." Said the old man, shaking his head sadly. "Are you certain there is no redemption to be had? A family's love is worth more than any estate. Even if it's complicated."

"So I'm told." Said Mika coldly. "Not that it's any of your business, but I promise you there's no love lost here. By the time I came along, they were all out of love. If they even had any to begin with. So do not twist my words, old man. I'm not entitled. I'm not materialistic. I just know my worth."

"I apologize." The old man sighed. "No child deserves to feel unloved. I am sorry you had a painful upbringing."

Mika laughed again, more harshly than before.

"Painful? I had a butler when I was ten. I had so many toys and books they filled an entire room. I don't know how it feels to be cold, or hungry. I can't count how many times I sat in the carriage, eating candy and pastries... as we drove past children my age begging for scraps in the streets. I was never mistreated a day in my life. My parents would've had to acknowledge me in order to be cruel to me. And they simply didn't have the time for that. I thought the nanny was my mother til I was four. And they only corrected me after she got sick and died." Mika summarized, not without a healthy measure of bitterness. Then he took a long drink of whiskey.

The old man watched the young one intently for several moments. He did not speak, he simply sat and processed all of that.

"So now you intend to distance yourself from all of that luxury, and carve a place for yourself in the world - on your terms." Said the old man.

"Exactly." Mika affirmed, a fierce gleam in his eye. "And my name will be remembered, long after my brothers have drank and gambled away everything my father and grandfather worked for."

"An ambitious goal indeed. To succeed because you're worthy of success, not because someone did or didn't choose to hand it to you."

"I've spent my entire life being looked over and ignored. Never again." Said Mika with rock-solid vindication.

"So you aspire to a position of great power. To be your own boss, so to speak. And while I'm certain you'd be a natural, I feel it's worth mentioning to you that I happen in the market for an assistant." The old man noted, quirking and eyebrow attentively as he monitored Mika's reaction.

"An assistant?"

"Yes. My last one recently outgrew me, I'm afraid. But he did grow to be quite successful after his years of training with me. Not to toot my own horn, but think I did very well with him."

At that moment, the inn owner returned with the sign-in form for the suite Mika was booking. He nodded up at the owner in thanks, and signed his name distractedly. His focus remained on the soft-spoken and mysterious old man on the bar stool.

"I was planning on holding out for a something higher-level than someone's apprentice." Mika mused, arching an eyebrow at his unexpected drinking companion. "But I'm open-minded. What line of work are you in?"

"Well... Mika Ver Leth." Said Paris, glancing casually at the inn's sign-in form where Mika had just written his name along the dotted line. "Why don't you order me a drink with all that family money of yours, and I'll tell you all about myself and what I do."

Paris hadn't known Mika's first name until that point, the moment he saw it written down. He took a wild guess at the pronunciation. He guessed wrong.

But Mika didn't correct him. Not once. Not in the almost three centuries they spent joined at the hip did Mika tell Paris of his unintentional error.

It wasn't that Mika was too polite, or too shy. If you know a single thing about him you know that's never been the case. The reasoning for his silence was simple. One, he'd already been looking for a fresh start - and a fresh identity complimented that rather nicely. And two, he simply thought Paris's version sounded better.

And the rest was history.

PRESENT DAY:

Kurda should have known his time with Nathan had been too good to last. And he was furious with himself for putting himself in this position in the first place, and for putting an innocent human at risk while lying straight to his face.

They were in bed one night, in Kurda's house. One second it had been perfect. They were making love; wrapped up in each other as the rest of the universe disappeared around them. It had been the best sex they'd had yet. That turned out to be the downfall of the whole damn thing. As Kurda felt his mind, body, and emotions ascending to a place they hadn't been in years, there was a split second where he disconnected from reality entirely. And he didn't remember much, all he knew was that in the heat of the moment it wasn't Nathan's name that slipped from his lips. It was Mika's.

And seeing as that Kurda told Nathan his ex's name was Mike, which is almost phonetically identical either way, that was more than enough for Nathan to freeze and ask for a little clarification on what the fuck was going on. Kurda instantly realized his error, and panicked. He tried to brush past it by turning up the heat, kissing Nathan more passionately and thrusting his body into Nathan's more forcefully than before.

But his mistake sent his brain spinning, and he forgot what he normally kept in mind when they had sex: Not only was Nathan not Mika, Nathan was a human. His body physically couldn't withstand what a vampire's could. It had never been a problem, because Kurda was nothing if not perpetually considerate. But Kurda's mind was blank and terrified in that moment. He couldn't remember exactly how it happened; but suddenly Nathan was yelling in pain and Kurda was recoiling in panic but it was too late. He'd forgotten to tone down his natural strength and he'd broken Nathan's wrist and two of his ribs.

It had been awful. They went to the hospital and spent the night in the ER. Nathan kept saying he knew it was an accident but Kurda was inconsolable. And to add even more pain, his vampiric hearing was able to pick up every word as the doctor in the other room asked Nathan if he was experiencing domestic violence. He heard Nathan deny it, and he heard the disbelief in the doctor's voice as he handed Nathan some paperwork to fill out in case he wanted to press charges.

That was the moment Kurda knew it had to be over. He spent the day with Nathan making sure he had everything he needed; painkillers, groceries, etcetera. Then he went home to his own house where he screamed into his pillow in self-hatred until he finally fell asleep. When he went to check on Nathan the following day; he ended the relationship and resigned from his job at Nathan's bar, all in half an hour.

It may have paled in comparison with the way he'd ended things with Mika (good luck finding a worse breakup story than that one) but it was agonizing nonetheless. Kurda didn't leave his house for over a week; embarking on a bender that would have put most Festival of the Undead revellers to shame. He put his body through the wringer, and he told himself he deserved it.

One of Desmond Tiny's many supernatural powers is the innate ability to know exactly when someone is having a bad day and is in no condition to deal with his particular brand of bullshit. Which is exactly what makes it so much fun for him.

Kurda had just woken up on his bathroom floor and dragged his weary body to the kitchen. He brewed a mug of coffee even though he hated the stuff. He was officially out of food so he knew he'd have to leave his house today or tomorrow. But first he'd see how coffee served as a meal replacement. It seemed to work for Mika, after all.

Kurda was sitting on the table with his head buried in his arms when he heard the door swing open. He looked up so quickly his head spun. His first thought was that it was Nathan; it would be just like him to come try to smooth things over. But there was no coming back from this. His second thought was that it could be Mika - it was a weak, childish hope but honestly, his weary body wanted nothing more than to just lay in those strong arms and sob into his chest.

Nothing in the world could have prepared himself to see a short, round little man in yellow overalls and green rain boots strut through his door, striking terror into his heart. He was just lucky he'd already thrown up earlier that day and had nothing left to come up, otherwise it would've happened.

"May I come in?" Said Desmond Tiny happily as he kicked his boots off and flexed his horrifying webbed toes.

"If you must." Kurda choked out.

"So hospitable." Tiny smirked. He practically skipped over to the table and pulled a chair out for himself to sit in. It made a shrill, scraping sound on the floor that sent shivers down Kurda's spine. "I'll make this quick; there's a pandemic unfolding and I hate to miss too much! Those things always start slow compared to earthquakes or wildfires, but I love all genres of disaster. If you're patient enough, it certainly does get interesting!"

"Don't miss out on my account." Kurda croaked out, glaring across at the intruder. In this moment, he had no fucks to give about anything. There was nothing this man could do to him that would hurt worse than he was already hurting.

"Alright, let's dive in! Kurda Smalht, I really can't emphasize enough how much frustration you've caused me." Said Desmond nastily, licking his lips. "Of all the possible future outcomes I could have predicted, you betraying Vampire Mountain but walking away with your life was not on my list."

"Sorry to be an inconvenience." Kurda replied drily. "For what it's worth, I sincerely regret not being executed. Would have made things much easier for me too."

"That Sire Ver Leth sure does think he's something special, though." Tiny added, eyes flickering cruelly. "I paid them a visit a while back. Just thought I'd stop and say hi."

Kurda felt his blood run cold and it must have showed because Tiny's face immediately broke out in an sickly amused grin.

"Oh, yes. We had a lovely chat. Mika, Paris, good old Larten Crepsley, I've always liked him. Even little Darren. What a marvel that boy is! I don't think dear Mika was too happy when I sat in one of the thrones but he was wise to keep his mouth shut - about that, at least. Didn't hold his tongue for long!"

Kurda felt his heart rate increase tenfold, and Tiny snickered as though he could hear it. Hell, he probably could.

"That shouldn't surprise you, though." Tiny continued breezily. "Being given orders clearly never sat well with that man. He's much happier sitting in that big old throne of his, making his inferiors feel small with that obstinate, moody look that's always on his face. He didn't much like when the tables were turned, and he told me as much. I can count on one hand the number of people that have had the nerve to give me sass throughout my incredibly long life."

"What happened?" Kurda croaked in a voice barely above a whisper.

"Well, I can't very well tell you the details of our meeting seeing as we're all pretending you're dead!" He chortled, winking at Kurda. "I gave the clan some instructions, and your ex-lover didn't think very much of them, and he told me so." Tiny continued smoothly, obviously relishing in the fact that Kurda had gone white as a sheet and was failing at keeping himself from shaking.

"I could have slaughtered him for his insolence, right then and there. Made it nice and slow. Tore him apart." Said Desmond softly, still smiling sickly. "In fact, I almost did. What a beautiful example he would have made for the rest of the clan!"

"If you EVER lay one single finger on Mika..." Kurda interrupted him viciously, hatred and panic drowning out his better judgement. He shot to his feet but the sudden movement had him seeing stars and he had to lean forcefully on the table to keep from collapsing.

"You'll do what, take a swing at me?" Desmond scoffed dismissively. "By all means, take your best shot! You hardly look strong enough to lift that mug, let alone pick a fight with ME. But don't you worry about Mika. The terror on his face when I started crumbling the Hall of Princes over their heads was more enjoyable. Oh, wipe that angsty frown off your face, blondie! The hall is perfectly fine as are all of your little friends. Well, I don't suppose you still consider each other friends these days. But you know what I mean." He added with an oily laugh.

"May I ask why you're here, Desmond?" Kurda rasped softly.

The wicked old man clapped his hands together and cackled.

"This is just a social visit, Mr. Smahlt! I had to congratulate you in person for throwing a wrench into my plans! You know it's rather difficult to surprise me. I really was sure I'd thought of everything. All my planning... down the drain! And it's all your fault!"

He gazed back at Kurda with an expression of such intense glee Kurda felt ill.

"Finish the job, then!" Kurda snarled, so loudly he startled himself. He slammed his fist down on the dusty table and glared daggers across the table at the grinning yellow-clad man. Gone was any softness from his tone. There was nothing left for him to lose. With every syllable his voice picked up more volume until he was shouting at the top of his lungs. "Do what the Princes should've done in the first place! Drive a stake through my heart if it would make you happy! You'd be doing me a fucking favour!"

Desmond Tiny had stopped smiling by the time Kurda finished. He arched his fluffy white eyebrows and carefully studied Kurda's exhausted face, his sunken eyes, his tangled hair.

"I feel for the plight you've gotten yourself into. But if you WANT to die that badly, there's no entertainment value in it for me. I apologize, but I cannot help you. If you want to be erased from this world you'll have to do it yourself." He casually informed Kurda at last. Then he slowly pushed his chair back and got up from the table. "Well, my poor disgraced friend... it's time for me to get going. I've got a war to watch. All bets are off now! Could be anybody's race. And I'll have the best seats in the house. Lucky me!"

"Go fuck yourself, Tiny." Kurda snapped at his retreating back.

"Nice try! Still not killing you!" Desmond chirped merrily as he paused to turn back around and smile at Kurda once again. "Strong words though, my goodness! I remember how young and wholesome you used to be. Those nasty cusses weren't even in your vocabulary. How the world has hardened you! Or did you just pick the bad language up from Mika? Ah well. Have fun rotting in here. Ta-ta!"

The door shut behind him. Kurda felt the blood returning to his face as the fiery claws of fear, regret, anger, and self-loathing hooked into him all over again. Burning just as white-hot as they had all those years ago. A throat-tearing scream of anguish came bursting from of his lungs and he flung his half-empty mug at the closed door as hard as he could so he could watch it shatter.

I know that you're wrong for me
Gonna wish we never met on the day I leave
I brought you down to your knees
'Cause they say that misery loves company
It's not your fault I ruin everything
And it's not your fault I can't be what you need
Baby, angels like you can't fly down hell with me, oh-oh
Angels like you can't fly down hell with me

Okay guys I'm sorry if the Renley/Nathan subplots are throwing you for a loop. Having Mika and Kurda get into anything with anyone else had never been on the table originally, but at one point I realized I didn't love the idea of them sitting thousand of miles away from each other, pining in mutual celibacy. Tbh that felt kind of boring so I "added a little spice" as that TikTok sound goes. Because nothing is ever simple, especially not for these two.

Also, the tidbit about Paris pronouncing Mika's first name "incorrectly" and it sticking, is a small tribute to the fact that I've knowingly and unapologetically been pronouncing it wrong in my head for over a decade now. If you've never read Darren Shan's old pronunciation guide, the "correct" pronunciation is "Mick-ah". But for me, it's always been "My-ka". Like Mike with an A. (And just to make it more complicated I can also think of a handful of people who pronounce it "Mee-ka").

So in this canon, his original, human name would be pronounced Shan's way. Paris's pronunciation, the one Mika ultimately chooses to stick with, is the version I use. I'm legally required to tell you you can use whatever pronunciation you like, but My-ka is Dirty Chai canon.

I had a lot of fun figuring out Mika's origin story. We'll never know where our angsty boi really came from unless DS gets really bored and gets back into prequels, but him having a privileged background felt right to me. Maybe it's just because I headcanon him as a low-key snob idk.

Welllll I hope you liked this chapter, folks! I think it turned out okay all things considered. But I don't know, so you tell me! Please leave a comment if you have a second to spare, that would make me very happy.

And the next chapter is going to be Big Sad, so... sorry.

As always, thanks for reading!

- Roxy