Happy New Year, gang! How's 2021 so far? I haven't left my apartment yet so it's hard to gauge. I got a lot of writing done on my holiday, so I'm feeling pretty good about it so far. Way back in the fall, my goal was to have Bloodine finished by the new year but it quickly became apparent that there was no realistic way I could do that. We're closing in on a critical turning point here, and I really need to do the ending justice after the blood, sweat, and tears I've poured in thus far.
One thing I feel like I should mention is that I NEVER intended to spread Paris's death/funeral over three long-ass chapters. It was supposed to be all in one. But if there's one thing I can't do, it's skip over emotionally charged dialogue. I NEED to deep-dive into that shit every single time. So Mika's first few hours of processing required an entire chapter (the longest one so far hah), and of course the three-way showdown (Mmmm, Watcha Say) between Mika, Arrow, and Vancha needed to be it's own deal. And now there's this one that focuses on them trying to get back on the same page and getting through the funeral itself. But I promise we're moving on after this.
Not to mention the segments with Renley just keep getting longer because unfortunately the bastard has grown on me. Which means I utterly failed in my intended purposes for him, but whatever. I'm sure some of y'all are raging at your screens rn but honestly Mika deserves a little TLC after the shitstorm he's been through, so I'm not sorry. But rest assured I have never taken my eyes off the One True Prize here. Every road has a detour.
Chapter 16: I Know Better
Song:Marjorie by Taylor Swift
Never be so kind, you forget to be clever
Never be so clever, you forget to be kind
Mika didn't stop until he was back in his room. He hadn't left the Hall of Princes since Paris died, which was almost a week ago. Vancha and Arrow had been away from the mountain for years, but now they were both back - so between the two of them they could figure it out. Or duke it out. Whatever. Mika was fresh out of fucks to give.
He made his way over to his desk and slowly sunk down into his chair and with a shaking hand he poured himself a glass of water. Every movement sent waves of pain through his battered body - by his best guess, he had a few cracked ribs, a hell of a concussion, a handful of lacerations, and quite possibly a cracked collarbone. And he was fully aware that he'd gotten off lucky.
Seba was right - the fight was horrible and embarrassing and so unnecessary. Mika knew in his heart he was no better than Vancha or Arrow. He wanted nothing more than to take back the words he said, especially his cold judgement of Vancha's recent encounter with Gannen. Vancha was right - neither Mika nor Arrow had walked in his shoes. Vancha deserved better.
But Arrow didn't.
Suddenly, the very thought of his best friend filled Mika with resentment so overpowering it made his heart race and he had to take a long drink of water to re-centre himself. It was one thing for Vancha to make a jab; he hadn't been there for any of it. But Arrow had been there for the whole thing, start to finish. Had it not been Arrow who forced Mika to take a long, hard look at himself in that conversation that resulted in the long-overdue admission of his feelings for Kurda? Had Arrow not been by Mika's side for the ups and downs of the relationship that followed? Had he not been there for the final moments, a direct witness the look on Mika's face during the trial and sentencing?
Had Arrow just been acting the role of the loyal friend that entire time, while secretly thinking Mika was just a naive idiot who could have prevented this by keeping closer tabs on Kurda during their relationship?
Seven fucking years had passed between then and now. And if that was how Arrow still felt after all this time, Mika would've preferred if he'd been honest from the start. The night Arrow walked into this very room to see Mika on the floor surrounded by broken glass and blood, he steered him to safety while murmuring comforts like, "it's not your fault, you deserved better, you didn't know".
Maybe Arrow should've just said "well, serves you right", shut the door, and walked away. At least then Mika would've known where he actually stood.
A sudden knock jerked him back to reality, and he turned his body halfway around to glare at the closed door. Someone was certainly feeling brave.
"What?" He rasped.
"It's me..." Renley's voice drifted through the wood. He sounded frazzled, but resigned. "Just let me in."
"It's not locked."
Renley opened the door, gently shut it behind him, and made his way over to where Mika was sitting. He moved gingerly, as though expecting Mika to change his mind and go at him the way he'd gone after Vancha and Arrow earlier.
"I brought ice from the kitchen." Renley announced quietly, holding up a small cloth bag. "How you feeling?" He run his gaze surreptitiously over Mika's body. Mika was just wearing a t-shirt, so the bruises rapidly blossoming up and down his arms were in plain view. And were they ever vibrant.
"Gods, Ren... you know I hate stupid questions. We've been over this." Mika retorted, staring up at him blankly.
"You hate when people ask you if you're okay." Renley corrected him patiently. "Because you feel like there's only one correct answer, even if it means you have to lie. So instead I asked you how you're feeling. That way, you're not limited."
Okay, point to Renley.
"I feel like I had an entire mountain dropped on me." Mika answered.
"You fought Vancha and Arrow at the same time, so that's about the equivalent." Said Renley. He eased himself up onto Mika's desk and sat there.
"Yes, please feel free to sit on my desk." Mika told him sardonically.
"I'd sit in the chair, but you're in it." Said Renley with a breezy shrug. "May I?" He added hopefully, holding up the bag of ice. Mika knew there was no point in resisting, not to mention he was in excruciating pain, so he nodded. Renley looked relieved, and gently pressed the ice pack against the worst of the bruises, which was on Mika's collarbone. The sudden cold stung for a moment and Mika flinched, but within seconds he started to feel relief and he leaned into it, closing his eyes.
"Good to see you're drinking water. I thought you'd be into the whiskey now." Renley commented after a minute or two.
"I'm full of surprises." Mika mumbled without opening his eyes.
"I know you're being sarcastic, but yeah. You are, actually."
"Oh?"
"If someone bet me you'd be involved in a three-way death match with your two colleagues, let's just say I'd have lost that bet."
"I wasn't just involved. I started it." Said Mika grimly. Renley whistled in surprised.
"You're lucky you were able to walk away! How the hell did it get to that point?"
Mika opened his eyes only so he could peer sardonically up at Renley.
"That's above your pay grade, General."
"That line was only funny the first time." Ren grunted dispassionately. "I'm serious. What could possibly drive you three to go at each other that hard? I love a good fight as much as the next vampire, but my gods, Mika... that was a shit show. And right before Paris Skyle's funeral?"
"It started as an argument. Words were said. Points were made." Said Mika with finality. Renley wasn't satisfied with that answer.
"Mika..." Renley murmured, drawing out the second syllable, almost needily as he stroked Mika's bruised cheekbone with his fingertips. "Come on... talk to me."
"We were all taking shots at each other." Mika croaked bitterly. "And I was no better than either of them, don't get me wrong. But one thing led to another, and it sent me back to a place I'd rather not go."
Renley sighed wearily and cautiously reached out to place his hand on Mika's bloodied forearm.
"I heard what Arrow said about Kurda-"
"Of all the things I DON'T want to talk to you about..." Said Mika through gritted teeth. "I don't want to talk to you about Kurda the most."
"Fine." Said Renley. "I won't ask any more questions. All that matters now is you're in one piece."
"Debatable" Mika muttered, pressing his palm against his throbbing head.
"Well, you do look about ready to keel over and die... look at this, you're bleeding all over my perfectly good shirt!"
"For the second time this week, let me remind you I didn't ask you to sit here babysitting me." Said Mika bitterly.
"The fact that it happened twice in a week is pretty fucked up. But it says more about you than it does about me, you absolute disaster." Said Renley, with a note of affection that Mika didn't know how to process. Renley occupied himself by using his sleeve to carefully wipe some of the blood from Mika's nose and mouth. "You're lucky I was there. This could have been so much worse."
"Of all the vampires in this mountain right now..." Mika groaned, wincing in pain as Renley moved on to applying gentle pressure to a deep cut on the side of his forehead. "It had to be you."
"Aside from the two who were trying to knock your head off, I'm the only one in this place who's not afraid to manhandle you." Said Renley with a shrug, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Hey, let's get you to the medics. Yeah?"
"I'm good here, actually."
"Are you, Mika? This is your definition of 'good'? Because from what I can see-"
"Ren?"
"What?"
"If you really have nothing better to do than sit here, I need you to do it quietly."
"Counter-offer: I'll be quiet if you let me clean up some of those cuts." Said Renley in a would-be-casual manner, running his eyes critically over Mika's battered form.
"You're the boss, apparently." Mika muttered reluctantly. So they lapsed into silence. But Mika did pull open the left drawer of his desk, wordlessly showing Renley the small collection of ointment and bandages he kept there, just in case. So Renley got to work, which was fine by Mika because he was in no mood to go see the medics. And not because he was being proud or stoic or whatever. Because a trip to the medics would mean walking through the entire mountain, and having to see people on route. And right now, that prospect was awfully unappealing.
Mika eventually got up from his desk, limped over to his coffin (leaning heavily on Renley the whole time) and lay down carefully.
"I'll leave you in peace now." Said Renley quietly as Mika tucked himself in. "Get some rest. You're gonna need it."
"You can stay..." Mika replied, a little reluctantly. "If you want. I don't care."
"I thought you didn't like sleepovers. You've made it clear on several occasions you prefer the 'rail-then-bail' approach." Renley remarked wryly.
"Doesn't count if we skip the 'rail' part."
"Damn, now I know you're really concussed. Maybe I should call a medic."
"I mean, we can rail if you want. I'm almost positive I can still make it work." Said Mika, straight-faced.
"Oh my gods, Mika! I am not fucking you like this. It might just kill you!" Renley was unable entirely restrain himself from laughing, even as he slapped his forehead in exasperation.
"Wow. You have a lot of faith in yourself, Ren. Now I kind of want you to try."
"Do you remember that night at your homecoming feast? I kissed you in the hallway and then you were like-" Renley lowered his voice and took on a mocking, over-dramatic tone. "-'I am NEVER going to fuck you, Renley'-"
"In my defence, you were truly obnoxious that night. I could've killed you."
"- Then three months later you basically come crawling into my arms, all needy and touch-starved. Do you remember that?"
"If by needy and touch-starved you mean bored and vaguely horny, then sure." Mika replied impassively.
"Shut up and move over."
Renley climbed into the coffin alongside Mika. He kept his arms to himself so as not to aggravate Mika's damaged ribs. And eventually Mika was lulled to sleep by a combination of sheer exhaustion and the trail of gentle kisses Ren was leaving on his head, down his neck, and along the backs of his shoulders. And despite the pain, it was the best sleep he had in weeks. Curled up in a warm, safe place, buried in heavy blankets, and finally reunited with his beloved coffin.
Renley woke up early, he had to meet with some of his fellow Generals who were returning from the frontlines. He kissed Mika on the forehead, received an unaffectionate grunt in response, and carried on his way. And Mika went back to sleep for another two hours. He woke up slowly, allowing himself to sleep in out of spite. Not to mention his whole body still ached, so he had no desire to go anywhere in a hurry.
Sleeping in felt a little surreal - even when the mountain wasn't in chaos, Mika was ever the go-getter. He'd never been able to get into the habit of relaxing, not even on days when he should have. He just couldn't turn his brain off. Until now. Because when he went back up to the Hall of Princes, he'd have to deal with Arrow, or Vancha, or - gods forbid - both. Maybe he was being petty. Scratch that, he was definitely being petty. But it would be in everyone's best interest to keep things civil until after the funeral. Once that concluded, Arrow and Vancha would go back out to the field and Mika would remain here to oversee the war from the mountain side of things, as he'd agreed upon with Paris months ago.
Mika was at his desk, refreshing himself on meeting notes from the past few days and drinking a glass of whiskey on ice when Renley reappeared.
"Seriously?" Said Renley, wincing. "Hard liquor at this hour?" Then he paused. "You know what, never mind. That doesn't even make the top five most depraved things I've seen you do."
"Out of curiosity, what are the top five?" Mika inquired offhandedly.
"For starters, the time you ate a handful of coffee beans-"
"I didn't have time to make coffee." Said Mika defensively. He drained the last of the whiskey and graciously accepted Renley's offering. "Thanks, by the way."
"Don't thank me yet. Seba said you have to be in the Hall of Princes in half an hour." Renley replied sheepishly.
Mika arched an eyebrow.
"Well, I'm Seba's boss, actually. So I don't have to be anywhere."
"Whatever. I'm just the messenger." Said Renley, nibbling on a biscuit. Mika shrugged unconcernedly, and sampled a bacon strip. Crispy, delicious, perfection. Then he paused mid-bite and narrowed his eyes.
"Wait, why are you the messenger? Did you tell people you're checking up on me? Do people know you slept here?"
Renley tilted his head almost sympathetically, and gave Mika a funny little smile, and reached out to gently run his hand over his shoulder.
"Come on, Mika. I wouldn't do that to you. I know you want to keep your private life private and I don't blame you. Seba just saw me walking out of the Hall of Khledon Lurt with the plate. He knows we're friends, that's it." Renley explained patiently. "So asked me if I was on my way to you - and I wasn't about to lie to the Quartermaster. Then he said, and I quote-" Renley cleared his throat and adopted a stiff, formal tone to mimic Seba's: "'Sire Ver Leth does not deserve breakfast in bed. But that is very nice of you, General Azerion'."
"Well, he's correct on both accounts." Said Mika.
"Anyway, nobody knows about us. It's fine." Renley added. "Don't worry."
"Paris knew." Mika admitted bleakly. "I didn't tell him - he just figured it out. It was one of the last things we ever talked about."
Renley's face fell, and he put down the biscuit he was holding.
"Fuck... I'm so sorry. We don't have to talk about-"
"No. It's fine." Mika sighed. "He said you were good for me... and he was happy that I was happy."
"You told him you were happy?" Renley asked. There was a strange, curious luminance in his eyes, as though that concept wouldn't have occurred to him in a million years.
"No. It was implied." Said Mika flatly.
"...I make you happy?"
"Put it this way, you haven't made my life any worse."
"Wow." Said Renley, a slow grin lighting his face up like a sunrise. "Coming from you, that's practically a confession of love."
Mika looked up sharply, and Renley' wistful smile vanished. They both knew Mika was absolutely not fucking around with the L-word these days.
"Sorry. I shouldn't have said that. Poor phrasing." The General winced, shaking his head. "But you know what I meant, right?"
"Yeah. I knew." Said Mika, relaxing. "Well, I'd better get back at it. I'm sure Seba has a few more words for us before the funeral tomorrow."
"I thought you were Seba's boss." Renley chipped in, pressing his lips together.
"Only in theory." Mika sighed. "Just like how the Princes are technically equals - but we all knew Paris was king." Then he smiled wryly. "Just one of the many secrets we don't tell the Generals."
Renley threw his head back and laughed.
"Oh, we knew. It was painfully obvious." He chortled. Mika shot him a withering glare and he became more serious for a moment. "Look at the difference in age and experience between Paris and the rest of you. Of course there was a power imbalance. But now he's onto his next great adventure, and that leaves you three to figure out who's going to fill that role. And I only say three because I can't picture Darren stepping in the ring with you, Arrow, and Vancha." Renley added.
"No one's going to fill Paris's shoes." Mika argued, shaking his head. "That's not how it works. We're all on the same level."
Renley regarded Mika curiously, tilting his head. His mahogany eyes were unreadable.
"That's not what it looked like yesterday." Said the General after a pause. Mika closed his eyes and ran his hand through his hair, suddenly wanting nothing more than to go back to sleep.
"I can't really argue with that." Mika remarked. "Speaking of yesterday... I can't hide out in here any longer. As much as I'd like to." He slowly stood up from his chair, wincing slightly as his stiff body protested.
"You sure you're alright?" Renley asked. They both knew it was redundant.
"I'm the best." Mika replied, with a mystifying blend of sarcasm and pure conviction that no one else in the entire world could've quite pulled off.
"Whatever you say." Said Renley. His face remained an impassive mirror image of Mika's for a moment, but then he softened, and added: "Hang in there, angel. It'll get better."
Mika made a thoroughly disgusted face at him.
"Seriously?" Renley added reproachfully, arching an eyebrow at Mika. "You're truly demented, you know that?"
"Huh?"
"You make that face any time I refer to you as anything other than -" he went on to list to some of the more NSFW nicknames they tended to utilize in the coffin. "- but gods forbid I call you baby, or honey, or-"
"What's your point?" Said Mika, arching an eyebrow impatiently.
"I have no idea." Said Renley, rolling his eyes in exasperation. "Never mind. Have a great day at work... slut. There. You happy now?"
Mika laughed, because how could he not? Then he paused to give Renley a quick, lazy kiss on the temple before leaving the room.
"Thanks for putting up with me." Said Mika quietly. "See you later."
And if I didn't know better
I'd think you were talking to me now
If I didn't know better
I'd think you were still around
What died didn't stay dead
What died didn't stay dead
You're alive, you're alive in my head
What died didn't stay dead
What died didn't stay dead
You're alive, so alive
Vancha and Arrow were both sitting in their thrones when Mika arrived in the Hall of Princes. Seba was in the corner, seemingly giving his staff their orders for the day. Larten was standing at Seba's side.
Mika had never been one to back down or shy away from anything. He looked both Arrow and Vancha dead in the eyes as he ascended the platform and took his seat between them. Vancha returned his look, while Arrow refused to make eye contact.
Their thrones went, from right to left: Arrow, Paris, Mika, Vancha. Seeing as Paris's throne was empty, that left a gap between Mika and Arrow, and Mika didn't mind in the slightest. He was within an arm's length of Vancha, though. And as he sat down, his green-haired colleague leaned towards him pointedly.
"Surprised you're back so soon." Said Vancha out of the corner of his mouth. "Thought you'd be out cold for at least a full twenty four hours after that scrap."
Mika regarded him coolly.
"You'll have to do better than that. You're not as tough as I remember." He told Vancha.
Vancha chortled amicably as though it was all a grand joke. Mika rolled his eyes and looked straight ahead.
Within minutes, Seba had dismissed his staff and came to stand in front of the three Princes, his hands on his hips sternly.
"And are we going to get through the funeral without any more childish foolery? Or are you going to have another brawl in the middle of the ceremony when one of you inevitably looks at the other the wrong way?!" He boomed up at them.
"I can't speak for the other two, but I personally intend to maintain decorum. At least until the funeral is over." Said Mika diplomatically.
"As do I." Vancha echoed.
"And I." Arrow added in a reluctant grunt.
Seba stared them down coldly for a few seconds, then he seemed to deflate.
"Come with me, all three of you." He sighed. "Larten, can you mind the Hall in their absence?"
Larten shook his head apprehensively.
"Alas, I am not a Prince. It would be improper."
"You were a Prince-Elect once, and you are Sire Shan's right hand." Seba huffed. "You will be fine. This is an extenuating circumstance."
Larten looked to Mika, Arrow, and Vancha who each shrugged in turn.
"We don't care." Said Arrow, much more casually than he probably should have. Mika and Vancha nodded their affirmation. Larten headed up the steps and sat down in Vancha's throne once it had been vacated.
Mika, Arrow, and Vancha followed Seba quietly out of the Hall of Princes, and through the long winding corridors of Vampire Mountain. Mika knew exactly where they were going, and it was a long walk. But he still couldn't entirely prepare himself for the moment they rounded the corner into a small, secluded room deep in the lower caverns to see Paris's body. The room was completely empty, but there were two solemn-faced guards flanking the doorway. There was a stone table in the middle of the room, and upon it lay Paris. He was wearing an immaculate white robe, and his arms were crossed peacefully over his chest. He could have been sleeping.
"Oh, gods..." Arrow moaned, stopping dead in his tracks.
"Eight hundred years." said Vancha, his voice a low rasp. "I can't believe he's gone."
Mika said nothing. There was nothing he left he could say. He'd already fallen to his knees, cried, screamed it out. He'd read his letter obediently, picked himself back up and carried on. That just about covered the mourning to-do list. But he hadn't seen the body til now. Maybe there'd been a screw knocked loose in the brawl or maybe his concussion was getting the better of him. Either way his brain was shutting down, leaving him with nothing but numb.
"I thought you'd want to see him. One last time." Said Seba hollowly.
Vancha approached the corpse, with an degree of apprehension that was most unlike him. When he reached the table he gripped Paris's hand in his own and stared straight down as silent tears fell from his eyes.
Arrow seemed to be imploding, as he had upon reading Paris's letter two days prior. He pressed his palms against his temples and turned his back on the others. He took a few directionless steps as though he felt the need to move his body in an effort to escape the onslaught of grief - but he didn't actually want to leave the room.
Driven by pure habit and instinct, Mika drew breath to reassure Arrow. He turned to go after him, bring him back from whatever dark place he was falling into, hug him through it. But Mika stopped himself. Arrow had just taken a battle axe to their friendship, after all. Mika didn't know what to say. Or if he should say anything.
"I'm sorry." Came Vancha's voice eventually, shaking and fractured as he clutched his one-time mentor's cold, lifeless hand. His head was bowed and his tears flowed freely."I let you down, Paris. I failed the clan. I'm so, so sorry."
The pain in Vancha's voice was heart-shattering. And Mika couldn't bite his tongue, because he'd been there. Gods, he'd been there a thousand times over since last council. Locked in his own head with the same cruel voice that was now torturing Vancha. And even when most of him knew the voice in his head was wrong, that of course it wasn't actually his fault... the voice was louder. It was always louder.
Mika exhaled slowly, and made his way over to the other side of the table, so he was standing across from Vancha on Paris's right side. Like Vancha, Mika clutched Paris's other hand in his own. He knew it would be cold. But he wasn't prepared for how cold, and he flinched.
Vancha slowly lifted his head and surveyed Mika out of puffy, haunted eyes that had seen too much. He leaned heavily against the table, his shoulders hunched under the pressure of a burden that was invisible, but Mika knew exactly how much it weighed because he carried his own same-but-different version.
"You didn't fail, Vancha. You didn't let us down when you let Gannen go." Said Mika firmly. "And for me to imply otherwise was wrong. I know better, but I let my emotions take over. And I hope you believe me when I tell you I'm sorry."
"I did fail. You'll never convince me otherwise." Vancha retorted hoarsely. "I'm not going to hold a grudge, Mika. I respect you far too much for that. But for you to throw it in my face... you, of all vampires. And not because you bent the rules to sentence Kurda. Because you know exactly how it feels to have a brother you'd do anything for."
Mika held Vancha's gaze steadily, even as the truth of the matter made his heart ache. Behind him, he heard Arrow exhale in dismay.
"I made a choice to leave that clan and join this one, that's on me. But Gannen is still my brother. Nothing he does will change that." Vancha croaked. "Paris saved my life, I owe him everything. But less than a decade after I outgrew his mentorship, he shows back up in this mountain with the pair of you. Already joined at the hip, inseparable. You have no idea what that felt like... having to watch you both live the life my brother and I deserved. While I fought tooth and nail to prove myself to the Princes back then, and nobody else knew my secret. I didn't have my brother to lean on when things were bad, or to celebrate my victories with. I was alone."
Arrow slowly wandered over to the table and stood at Paris's shoulder - between Mika and Vancha, but closer to Vancha. Arrow still seemed unable to look at Mika.
"I'm sorry, Vancha." Said Arrow. His voice was strange, unusually meek. "I wish it had been different for you."
"We can't change the past." Vancha grunted. "But we'd damn well better take a hard look at our future."
"You're right." Said Arrow with an affirmative nod. "And you were right about me. I'll never be able to look at the vampaneze clan without my personal grudge clouding my vision. But if I can't learn to separate that from my duties as a Prince, then I don't deserve a throne."
Vancha sighed heavily.
"Arrow, you earned that throne a thousand times over when you fought your way back all those years ago. I supported you then, and I support you now. That will never change. And I've never questioned your abilities to lead." He croaked.
"And you will always have my respect." Arrow replied earnestly. "I'll never forget how you helped me come back from what I thought there was no coming back from." Then he looked (apprehensively) to Mika at last. "Both of you. I wouldn't be here without you. And I don't mean my throne - I mean 'here' in general. I'd be long gone."
Mika stared blankly back at his best friend. It wasn't difficult to maintain an expression of chilly neutrality. While he didn't want to make Arrow feel worse, he wasn't exactly feeling emotionally generous towards him either. Vancha nodded wearily to Arrow, and then his gaze slowly shifted over to Mika.
"I stand by much of I said yesterday, even if my delivery was crude." Said Vancha in a low voice. "But not everything." He let out another pained sigh and his eyes softened plaintively. "Mika, what I said about you and Kurda... about why he didn't tell you... it was cruel, and it was wrong. It was an oversimplification of an impossible situation. I'm so sorry."
Mika exhaled and ran his hand through his hair defeatedly. He hadn't expected Vancha to wave the white flag this soon. He figured it'd be Arrow first.
"You went through hell and came out stronger - I should be toasting your honour, not ripping your old scars open. I can't take it back, but please know I wish I could." Vancha added.
Mika felt his throat start to burn and tighten, but he blinked furiously and shook his head.
"I deserved it for the shot I took at you. But it was a low blow, I'll give you that." Mika forced out, both his voice and limbs trembling. "And it only hurt because it was true. And I knew that beating the living shit out of you wouldn't make it any less true... but I tried anyway." He added weakly.
Then, to his utter surprise, Vancha walked to the other side of the table and pulled Mika into a hug so tight his injured body screamed in protest, yet welcomed the sudden comfort at the same time. Even though it smelled awful.
"No. It's not true, Mika. It's not." Vancha insisted, his voice cracking even more. "Kurda got caught in a web more complex than we can understand. I didn't walk in his shoes, nor did you. We can't change it. He did what he did, and we are where we are. And where we are is here. Paris may be gone, but we're still here."
"You still have brothers in this clan, Vancha." Mika heard Arrow rumble from the other side of the table as he and Vancha pulled apart. "Maybe not the one you wanted, but we're still a package deal. Hate to break it to you."
Mika felt a harsh jab of bitterness at Arrow's empty words. After ripping open Mika's long-healed wounds, he could've at leash attempted a half-assed apology before dropping heartfelt lines about brotherhood.
Vancha let out a noise that could have been either a laugh or a sob, there was no way to know. But he regained his composure quickly.
"Gods..." Vancha muttered reluctantly, wiping his eye. "I must be losing my edge, because I don't know how to exist in a world without Paris. And I know that's pathetic, but it's the truth. How are you two holding it together?"
That flipped a switch in Mika's brain and he started laughing uncontrollably, so much that it caused his battered ribs and bruised stomach to ache. But he still couldn't stop.
"He finally lost it." Arrow remarked.
"Oh gods... oh fuck..." Mika practically sobbed, barely able to breathe between onslaughts of laughter. "Vancha, you're so off the mark, you have no idea. Me?! Keeping it together?!"
"There is is... I always thought you had an bit of a crazy streak. You hide it well, but you never fooled me." Vancha smirked.
"When I found out about Paris I was the worst kind of mess. I screamed at Seba and then locked myself in the Hall of Princes alone. I had two and a half panic attacks in as many hours!" Mika managed to force out, still hysterical. "Then I finished the day strong with a nuclear fucking meltdown. On the floor. It was a catastrophe. Nobody is handling anything! Not me, and definitely not you two! Right, Seba? Seba?"
He glanced at the corner of the room where Seba had been standing. There was no trace of the red-cloaked Quartermaster.
"He was just there a minute ago. Where'd he go?" Vancha mused. Mika glanced around, no longer laughing.
"There's a reason he brought us all down here and left." Arrow offered, a slight crack to his voice. "He knew something needed to change before the ceremony... and he couldn't afford to wait for us to get there on our own."
"Bold move on his part." Said Mika drily. "The odds of us getting into another fistfight were just as likely. Probably more, actually."
"I guess we beat the odds, didn't we?" Vancha murmured, looking back down at Paris's peaceful face. Mika and Arrow did the same, and for several minutes the trio stood in silence over the mortal form of their great mentor.
"You know, I ended up sleeping in the same clothes I wore yesterday." Mika spoke up eventually. Both Arrow and Vancha looked up at him in confusion. "Because you both beat me up so thoroughly I literally couldn't bend my arms enough to take them off." He clarified wryly. Arrow's brow furrowed in concern, while Vancha chuckled ruefully.
"If it makes you feel better, I was spitting up blood for hours." The green-haired Prince admitted, winking.
"A little." Said Mika. "But where I was going with that, was that means Paris's eulogy should still be in my pocket where I left it yesterday... ah." He reached into his pocket and withdrew a piece of paper, folded up into a tiny square. Then he cautiously held it out. "Take some time to read it. Edit or add whatever you want. I only started writing it on my own because I needed the distraction. We can scrap it and write a whole new one for all I care."
Vancha's eyes met Mika's as he took the piece of paper, and they exchanged a small, knowing nod.
"I'm sure it's perfect." Said Vancha hoarsely.
"You were always better at this stuff than either of us." Arrow added, trying to catch Mika's eye. Mika acknowledged him with a polite nod, but nothing more.
Vancha slowly sat on the floor with his back against the wall, and Arrow sunk down next to him to read over his shoulder. Mika knew the whole thing forwards and backwards after spending six days crafting it, so he remained at Paris's side.
"I'm so sorry. You raised me better than this. But I'm going to be better now. I promise." Mika told Paris so quietly Arrow and Vancha couldn't even hear him from ten feet away. "Even in death may you be triumphant, Paris. You were right... I'll see you again someday. But first, I'm going to miss you for the rest of my life. And there's nothing you can do to stop me."
Mika stood there for a few minutes longer, before joining Arrow and Vancha on the floor. And they sat there for several hours, shoulder to shoulder, going over the eulogy and adding even more stories, memories, and life lessons they'd learned from Paris over the years. By the time they stood back up, the eulogy had doubled in length. It was probably a little too long-winded - but if there was one thing the three Princes could agree on, it was that the guests would just have to deal with it.
So, Mika and Vancha buried the hatchet. As did Arrow and Vancha. But there remained an unmistakable chill in the air between Mika and Arrow. They were civil to each other, and that was it. Arrow didn't seem to know what to say, and Mika simply had nothing to say. He was confident he'd gotten his point across when he told Arrow that Kurda was worth ten of him. The words had tumbled from his lips on impulse, but he didn't regret them.
Arrow and Vancha had both crossed the lines in that argument. But the difference was that Mika went for Vancha's throat first, regarding Gannen. It didn't make either of them right, but it did make them even. However, Arrow's underhanded comment about Kurda felt completely different. He'd intentionally set out to hit Mika where it hurt. And Arrow regretted it, it was written all over his face every time their eyes accidentally met. He wanted to apologize, but he couldn't bring himself to. Maybe he didn't know how. But that was fine by Mika because he was in no way prepared to accept any semblance of apology. Because there was one thing about Arrow's occasional emotionally-charged outbursts. So when he said - "if Mika hadn't been so lovesick, so blinded by the treacherous, pacifist snake, there wouldn't have been a war in the first place!" - he meant it.
First of all: Yes there would, idiot. The war would've looked different, but there was always going to be a war.
Second of all: Fuck you Arrow. Fuck you forever.
Never be so polite, you forget your power
Never wield such power, you forget to be polite
The night of the funeral began in a frenzy of organized chaos. It was one of the few extenuating circumstances where the Hall of Princes would be allowed to remain empty.
Mika hadn't worn his funeral robes since Chok Yamada died around twenty years ago. He wasn't a fan, the material was stiff and itchy. Not to mention it was a bit of a battle to change into them, considering his body was still recovering from the fight and not exactly cooperating with him, particularly where lifting and bending his arms were concerned. He found himself wishing Renley was around to give him a hand, but he was busy preparing for the funeral ceremony with his fellow senior Generals. So Mika struggled into the formal set of robes with some difficulty. But when he eventually made it in and paused to check himself out in the mirror, he had to admit they looked sharp.
It would be his luck that the second he walked out of his room, he found himself face-to-face with Arrow who'd also just changed into his set of robes and was emerging from his own room - located directly across from Mika's.
Arrow's eyes immediately clouded over with panic and a red tinge crept into his cheeks - and it wasn't from anger. Arrow never had much of a poker face, so Mika could read him like a book. It was embarrassment. Humiliation. Guilt. And Mika simply did not have the time for it.
"Hey." Arrow mumbled, looking vaguely at Mika without making eye contact.
"Hey. Ready for the big show?" Mika inquired diplomatically. He didn't pause, though. He took an immediate right turn and began making his way down the long corridor. Arrow fell into step beside him.
"Yeah... no? I don't know." Said Arrow.
"Decisive as ever."
"I don't want to do this without you, Mika." Arrow replied, his voice taking on almost a whining edge.
"Well, you're in luck. I'm planning on attending." Said Mika. His tone was dead even, in stark contrast to Arrow's thinly veiled distress.
"You know what I mean! I can't handle this!" Arrow croaked. He reached for Mika's arm, and Mika pulled away sharply and walked a little faster. Arrow kept pace beside him determinedly. "I can't handle knowing you hate me, on top of everything else! Mika, I need you for this-"
Oh, for fuck's sake.
Mika stopped in his tracks and swung around to face Arrow directly.
"I. Don't. Care." Mika hissed, lacing each word with as much venom as he could muster. "I'm done being your emotional support system. Handle it on your own. Like you should've let me handle Kurda's exile from the start. Seeing as you were actually lying through your teeth the whole time you were picking me up off the floor and telling me-."
Arrow flinched as though he'd been struck.
"How can you say that?" He interrupted. "How could you possibly think-"
"You told me, Arrow! You fucking told me, remember?" Mika snarled. "You put up a good front, though. I always wondered if there was some tiny part of you that blamed me for not catching onto Kurda's plan before it was too late. I mean, I blamed myself for months after. But then you'd be right there, telling me it wasn't my fault, that it was out of my hands from the start."
Mika paused only long enough to take a breath, but it was enough time to see the tears pooling in Arrow's troubled eyes.
"I'm impressed with your restraint, A." Mika continued fiercely. "Can't imagine how hard it must've been to sit there and feed me all those comforting words when you didn't even believe them. I eventually started believing you, though. How fucked up is that?"
"No..." Arrow croaked. "It's not like that."
"Then what's it like, Arrow?" Mika fired back mercilessly. "And that's not rhetorical. I want you to tell me exactly what the fuck you meant."
"Mika..."
"Which was the lie? The words you strategically spoon-fed me, when you would've said anything to keep me focused and functional as the war started? Or the words that came out of your mouth yesterday after you had seven years to stew on it? I'm pretty sure I know. But humour me anyway."
"You know not that simple!" Arrow half-sobbed. Mika rolled his eyes unsympathetically. Like Mika, Arrow was a great Prince in his own way. But unlike Mika, Arrow would've made a terrible lawyer.
"I think it is, A." Said Mika coldly. "But no hard feelings, honestly. I don't know if what Kurda's betrayal was my fault, but I do know I'm done wasting time and energy on it. I've moved on. I'm just glad I finally know where you stand." He turned away and continuing his long walk down the corridor. This time he walked alone.
And if I didn't know better
I'd think you were listening to me now
If I didn't know better
I'd think you were still around
What died didn't stay dead
What died didn't stay dead
You're alive, you're alive in my head
What died didn't stay dead
What died didn't stay dead
You're alive, so alive
The funeral ceremony went off without a hitch or a single flaw. Which wasn't to say it was easy - it was excruciating from start to finish.
The ceremony began in the Hall of Stahrvos Glen. Paris's body rested on a wooden platform, placed on a slab of polished stone at the front of the room. First, the Princes thanked everyone for making the journey despite the war raging outside the mountain. Then the higher-ranking Generals, along with some of the elder members of the clan recited their designated prayers and ritual odes to the Vampire Gods, ancient tales, and somber songs.
Seba gave a speech about Paris's formative years with the clan; he was the only one who'd been alive long enough to know Paris back then. Mika, Arrow, Vancha each read a segment of the official eulogy they'd co-written. By the time they were through, there were more than a few teary eyes and sniffles from around the room - some of which were poorly disguised as coughs. Then Larten shared a few words on Darren's behalf. Finally, the Generals and Elders recited another series of rites and prayers to draw that portion of the ceremony to conclusion.
Then began the mass exodus from the Hall of Stahrvos Glen down to the cavern where the cremation would take place. Seba led the procession out of the hall, escorted by the four highest ranking Generals, one of which being Renley. Mika, Arrow, Vancha, and Larten (as Darren's proxy) served as pallbearers, each holding up a corner of the wooden platform that bore Paris's body. Behind them walked the rest of the senior Generals, staff supervisors including Vanez Blane and Jai Yang, as well as the most respected clan elders.
Then the rest of the attendees, the hundreds upon hundreds, trailed behind them. It was a long, slow walk down to the lower portion of the mountain. Mika was in no hurry - at the end of this walk would come the final moment before he'd truly never see Paris again.
Even though it was inevitable, no amount of acceptance was enough for Mika to numb himself to the sight of Seba carefully placing a blazing torch at the base of the magnificent funeral pyre. He lingered there for a second before stepping back into the line where the Princes and Larten stood.
The flames rose higher and higher, and when they eventually enveloped Paris's body Mika couldn't stop himself from inhaling shakily. He was standing in the middle of the line, between Vancha and Arrow. Arrow kept his eyes trained straight ahead, but he brushed his elbow against Mika's for a fraction of a second, so lightly it could have been unintentional. But Mika knew it wasn't. Arrow didn't reach out telepathically, but the brief physical contact communicated what Arrow couldn't put into words. So Mika returned the gesture. His current resentment towards Arrow didn't yield. But for this moment suspended in time, it also didn't matter.
All three Princes, plus Seba, kept their composure til the bitter end. But when it finally came time to escape from that room, it wasn't a second too soon. There would be a little under an hour of downtime while the staff put the finishing touches on the feast preparations as the guests trickled up to the Hall of Khledon Lurt. None of the Princes were required to do anything or be anywhere in particular during that window, so Mika retreated to his room and cried as much as his cracked ribs and limited timeframe would allow. Which wasn't a whole lot, but it was better than nothing. Then he downed a few long drinks of his nicest bottle of liquor, stared himself down in the mirror until he could force his facial expression back to his default cool detachment, then dusted himself off and got back at it.
The feast hadn't started yet when Mika arrived in the Hall of Khledon Lurt, and the guests were milling around and socializing with one another. He could see the high table at which Arrow and Vancha were already seated; it was so close yet so far away. Mika was greeted with a steady stream condolences as he made his way through the crowd. He took it all in stride, stopping here and there to toast Paris's good name and thank the guests for their attendance and support.
He'd almost reached his destination when he felt a more familiar hand on his shoulder. He turned around to see Renley, standing there with a glass of whiskey on ice in his hand.
"My deepest sympathies for the loss of your great colleague, Sire." Said Renley in a lofty, formal manner that didn't give a single indication of the relationship they shared behind closed doors. They were standing in the middle of a great crowd, after all. "It was a ceremony worthy of his honour. And you gave a hell of a speech."
"Thank you, General Azerion." Mika replied evenly. "Sire Skyle will be terribly missed by many, but his rest is well-deserved. Even in death may he be triumphant."
Renley nodded respectfully and they both made the death's touch sign. Then Renley's face lightened and he handed Mika the glass of whiskey.
"Not like you would've had any trouble finding it on your own, but still... got your favourite." He murmured in an undertone.
"Always tastes better when someone else makes it for me." Said Mika, allowing a small smile before taking a sip. "Thanks, Ren... I appreciate it more than you know. I don't say it enough."
Renley shrugged in response.
"I'm not sure if you knew, but I lost my own mentor a few years ago... last council. He was one of the casualties in the Battle of the Tunnels." The General replied matter-of-factly.
Mika flinched. Nope, he hadn't known that. That sure didn't help Renley's vehement grudge against Kurda.
"Fuck. Sorry."
"Yeah... Carlin Hoff."
"I knew Carlin... I didn't realize he was your-"
"It's alright. It was kind of a hectic day for everyone." Said Renley, laughing hollowly. And Mika indulged in a dark chuckle too, seeing as that was the understatement of the century. "But I learned it's the little things that help the most. Because at times like these, little things are all we have." Renley added.
"Sometimes they're not as little as you think." Said Mika after a weighted pause. He gazed thoughtfully at Renley for a moment, thinking about the baffling way things had played out between them. Mere months ago, Renley had barely been a work friend, more of an acquaintance really. Not a bad vampire, but a conceited, smart-mouthed prick who reminded Mika so much of himself he almost punched him in the face. That weird, liquor-addled night when they made out in an empty hallway seconds after Renley blatantly voiced his less-than-stellar opinion of Kurda - but not because of his crimes against the clan. Because of his crimes against Mika personally. Then Desmond Tiny showed up the next day, and needless to say it was a long time before Mika had the mental bandwidth to spare Renley a second thought.
Then one thing led to another, and another, and another... And now Mika was standing here, having all but severed ties with his best friend of over two centuries, just barely survived the funeral of the most important person in his life. Surrounded by - or drowning in - a sea of people who adored him but didn't know him, having to plaster on a smile and repeat, "thanks for coming, we'll miss him, even in death may he be triumphant" on an infinite loop til the words lost all meaning.
But suddenly Renley was standing there beside him, armed with only a stiff drink and a few simple words. That was literally all it took for Mika to no longer felt like he was drowning. While everyone was shouting encouragement from the shore, Renley had been the one to throw him a lifeline.
Life's a fuckin' trip, isn't it?
Renley took his seat with his peers, and Mika carried on to the Princes' table and did the same.
"Well, we made it through the hard part, lads. Onwards and upwards." Said Vancha with a wayward grin, raising a mug of ale and toasting Mika and Arrow in turn. Vancha figured if there was ever a time to take a break from his tradition of drinking only water, milk, and blood - this was certainly it.
"Cheers." Said Arrow, his voice considerably more subdued than it normally was when glasses of ale were being raised. He'd gone back to avoiding eye contact with Mika.
"So what's next?" Mika inquired matter-of-factly.
"We pick up where we left off... Larten and I will link back up with Darren and Harkat..." Vancha looked up slowly, eyes blazing with quiet determination. "Then we'll scour the earth until we find the Vampaneze Lord. And when we've done that... we'll end this war once and for all."
"I'll drink to that." Said Mika wearily, taking a long sip.
"I don't like Tiny's 'three hunters only' rule." Arrow contributed. "I don't trust that man."
"Nobody likes it, and nobody trusts him. You think I jumped for joy when I found out?" Said Vancha tensely.
"There has to be a way around it!" Arrow pressed. "Surely there's a loophole, or maybe he was bluffing, or-"
"There's no way around it, Arrow." Vancha countered, shaking his head decisively. "I had Larten and Darren describe his visit to me, word for word, a dozen times over. I've replayed my conversation with Evanna even more times. We have to take them at their word. There's nothing else we can do. I'm sorry."
Arrow didn't like that response, it was obvious by the way he slammed his mug of ale down on the table.
"I hate being his puppet!" The tattooed Prince growled. "I hate this stupid, wasteful, futile war!"
Mika looked sharply over at him. He couldn't let that comment pass.
"What'd you just say?" Mika asked, raising an eyebrow skeptically. "I must be deaf, or losing my mind, because I could've sworn I just heard you use the words 'wasteful and futile' in reference to our clan launching open season on the vampaneze. When did that stop being a dream come true for you?"
Arrow's overall demeanour whiplashed from defiant to defensive, in the space of exactly one second.
"I never wanted this." Said Arrow gruffly, shaking his head. "There's a difference between private, mutually voluntary combat challenges and all-out war! I watched two of my best men die before my eyes last week. Do you think I relished that? Do you think I wouldn't give anything to put an end to it?"
"No. I know you would. So would I." Said Mika gravely.
"I'd lay my life down if it meant we didn't have to waste any more good vampires. I wouldn't hesitate." Arrow continued, his voice taking on an almost desperate note.
"But would you consider a unification of the clans?" Vancha asked softly. Mika watched the colour drain from Arrow's face. For a moment, Arrow gawked across at Vancha, slack-jawed and helpless. Then the moment passed and Arrow's face tightened back up into an impassive mask of obstinance.
"I'd die for our clan, and I'd burn in hellfire for all eternity if it would guarantee their safety and longevity." Said Arrow icily. "But THAT isn't on the table, Vancha. And as long as I have a throne in this mountain, it never will be."
Vancha stared back at Arrow, his face unreadable. Mika peered back and forth between them, trying to gauge what gears were turning in his colleague's minds.
"Fair enough." Said Vancha tonelessly. "I just wanted to see where you stood, and you answered as I expected you would. Thank you for your honesty."
Arrow narrowed his eyes suspiciously.
"Why? Is that YOUR idea of a solution?" Arrow growled.
"No, Arrow." Said Vancha wearily. "Do I think Kurda Smahlt had a point? Yes. Do I think a union is realistic or even possible at this point? Probably not. So we play Desmond Tiny's game and we pray to the gods we win. And trust me, no one hates that more than I do."
Arrow stared long and hard at Vancha. Gradually, Arrow's icy expression thawed until there was no trace of aggression, and he simply looked lost.
"I'll say one final thing." Vancha added in a grave undertone, casting his gaze back and forth between Mika and Arrow. "Neither of you are going to like it. If you want to throw hands over it, I accept your challenge in advance - providing we fight in private rather than in front of our guests."
"Well, don't keep us in suspense." Said Mika darkly, finishing his drink. Arrow just looked apprehensively back at Vancha like a kicked dog.
"This didn't have to happen. Kurda Smahlt could've served it all to us on a silver platter if we hadn't been so dismissive over the years." Vancha declared. "Now, listen carefully so not to twist my words: I don't like the terms that would have been forced if his investiture plan had succeeded. I wouldn't want to see the vampire clan absorbed by the vampaneze; it would have meant losing our identity. And whether or not that's preferable to a war is a matter of opinion. But that's neither here nor there."
He paused for a moment, as if waiting for either Mika or Arrow to jump down his throat. But Arrow didn't seem to know what to say, and Mika was much more interested in listening than speaking at this moment. So Vancha continued:
"When I say I wish Kurda had succeeded, I mean I wish he'd succeeded before the prophecy. I wish he'd gotten the support he needed in order to formally seek clan unity in a way that would give us the best of both worlds. And I wish it happened LONG before Kurda was forced into such a desperate act. Because, while I don't condone what he did, I can only imagine the fear he must have felt, and the private hell he must have endured. He will always have my respect."
No matter how many years passed, no matter how much Mika accepted it, memories of that time still caused his brain to short-circuit. He managed to keep his face neutral, but had to blink several times to re-focus his vision.
"So there it is, that's how I feel. I can't control what either of you think... you don't have to agree, but please consider my words before you react." Vancha concluded.
Arrow exhaled slowly, as though the effort caused him great pain. That came as a surprise to Mika. He was certain Arrow would go for Vancha's throat all over again and ensure a repeat performance of the recent fight. But Arrow simply folded his arms on the table and rested his head in them.
"I don't know how to feel, Vancha." Arrow groaned, not looking up. "I don't know what's right. I don't know what to do. I don't know anything anymore."
"You must be growing weary, Sire Arrow." Said Vancha crisply. "I was fully prepared for you to drive a fork through my eye socket."
Clearly Vancha had been thinking along the same lines Mika had. Arrow looked up slowly, his bloodshot eyes still framed by the black and blue souvenirs of their fight.
"Can it wait til tomorrow?" Arrow offered weakly. A rueful smile illuminated his face for a moment. Vancha let out a harsh bark of laughter, while Mika snorted derisively.
"Yes, brother." Vancha chuckled. "It can wait until tomorrow. For now, let us feast. This is still Paris's night, after all."
"I'll drink to that." Mika interjected loudly. He raised his glass high, prompting the others to do the same. Then Vancha pointed out his glass was empty, and they laughed some more. Rather than flag down a staff member for a refill, Mika made a trip over to the bar table to rectify the situation. But returned rolling an entire barrel of ale up to the table, to Vancha and Arrow's delight and the kitchen staff's exasperation.
So they drank, and ate, and drank some more. They laughed, they reminisced, and toasted Paris countless times. Mika felt like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders and he could tell the others felt the same. He wasn't ready to pick up his friendship with Arrow where it had been unceremoniously discarded, but he had no trouble carrying on with benign civility while Vancha was around to provide a buffer zone.
For a while, it seemed like Arrow thought the shift in mood indicated Mika had forgiven him. Then Vancha left to go use the water closet, leaving the other two alone at the table. Arrow looked to Mika with a hopeful smile, but the second Vancha departed, Mika was out of his seat to visit the neighbouring table under the guise of checking on Seba. He watched Arrow's face fall out of the corner of his eye. For a second, he almost felt bad. Then he heard those words in his head, as clear as they'd been two nights ago:
"Was Kurda worth it, Mika? Was he worth this?"
And Mika stood by his answer, rooted unshakeably in conviction. He'd never been entirely confident in the tiny piece of his heart that forgave Kurda. He'd chalked it up to being clouded by love, or PTSD or something. He'd spent seven years telling himself he was crazy because of it, convincing himself that something in his brain was broken.
But Vancha's carefully-chosen words just given Mika the validation he didn't even realize he'd been craving for seven damn years. It was an impossibly complicated situation, and maybe there weren't any right answers. But Mika finally knew one thing for certain: he wasn't crazy.
"Kurda was worth ten of you."
He meant it. He believed it. And he'd say it again.
The autumn chill that wakes me up
You loved the amber skies so much
Long limbs and frozen swims
You'd always go past where our feet could touch
And I complained the whole way there
The car ride back and up the stairs
Eventually the feast concluded, leaving the attendees with only one thing left to do. Party 'til they passed out.
It was basically the Festival of the Undead. Actually, wilder. The atmosphere of the last Festival had been dampened by the message Harkat brought on behalf of Tiny just days prior - the first indication that something was wrong. Things escalated pretty quick after that. But now, all that horrifying shit was old news. The war had been raging for over half a decade, and the clan desperately needed this.
A few over-eager vampires had already relocated to the sporting halls, but most were still in the Hall of Khledon Lurt, drinking, singing, laughing, and catching up. At first Mika felt a little salted over how celebratory it all seemed. Because no matter how spectacularly Paris had lived and died, the fact remained that he still fucking died and Mika's world was still shattered. But he couldn't hold a grudge. He knew he was too close to the situation and was looking at it through a lens clouded by emotions that would have been more typical for a human than a vampire. And the more he observed the revellers, the more he relaxed.
Upon completion of the meal, the three Princes parted ways for some obligatory mingling. Arrow went to go catch up with Larten and Seba. Vancha sat down with a handful of Generals he hadn't seen in years. And Mika was happy to notice his old strike team was all sitting at the same table - Jakob, Markus, Osric, and Gareth. He'd spent five years in the field, fighting at their sides. They'd returned to the mountain with him, but hadn't stayed long. There was a war to win, and Mika Ver Leth's chosen crew were in high demand. They returned to the field within months, this time with Jakob stepping into Mika's role as commander, and Gareth (to Mika's complete astonishment) as his lieutenant.
Mika laughed earnestly when Jakob told him. Then he realized Jakob was actually being serious.
"I have to assume you know what you're doing, I guess." He told Jakob flatly upon regaining his composure. "No offence, Gareth."
"As always... offence taken regardless, Sire." Gareth replied with a wayward grin.
"General Tarl's not thaaat bad." Jakob insisted with a straight face. "His listening skills got a lot better once he started cleaning wax out of his ears on a regular basis."
"My ears were never the problem." Gareth retorted haughtily. "Once you learned how to give orders that were actually worth listening to, I didn't have a problem with falling in line."
"Whatever you say... General." Jakob lipped back, a sly gleam in his eyes that Mika had never seen before.
"Oh, so you do remember I technically outrank you?" Gareth countered, crossing his arms and rolling his eyes.
"When Sire Ver Leth tells you you're in charge, I'll happily do whatever you tell me." Said Jakob with a smirk. "But until that day comes, get used to being number two."
Then Gareth laughed, and cuffed Jakob upside the head, and Jakob laughed too. Funny, those two used to fight like cats and dogs. It gave Mika a weird sense of déjà-vu but It didn't dawn on him til hours later. Jakob and Gareth talked how Mika and Kurda used to talk, and looked at each other the same way too. Make of that what you will.
Mika lingered at their table for the better part of an hour, catching up on their latest adventures and offering advice where he could. Then Jakob told Mika he'd set a goal to start training to be a General - just as soon as the war was over. Mika was delighted, and promised his full support and to help train him when the time came.
Mika eventually carried on, and hopped from table to table to perform his due diligence as a steadfast leader. Although Mika tended to air more on the side of guarded than amicable, he still loved this. The little moments when he got to interact with the clan at eye-level, rather than staring down at them from his throne. He got the same overall consensus from every conversation he had. While most still believed they could win the war, they were also growing weary. Everyone had lost someone. Gone was the rah-rah exuberance that simmered in the air at the prospect of bloodlust, like it had at the start of the war. Every vampire in this room was still ready to fight to the death for the clan without hesitation, but now... they were just so tired.
And fuck, did Mika ever sympathize with that.
He circled down to the sporting halls eventually. He spied Larten sitting on the benches watching some of the sparring seasons that were taking place. Mika settled beside Larten, eager for an update on how Darren and Harkat were doing. Mika couldn't help but laugh at the news that Darren had been forced to enroll in high school. What a concept - a Vampire Prince sitting in a classroom, being forced to learn algebra or whatever the fuck. Peak comedy gold.
Then they talked about the war, the vampaneze, Evanna, Tiny. Then Larten switched from ale to wine, and three glasses later he was slamming his fist on the bench and loudly proclaiming how proud he was of Darren.
"That boy is stronger than I could ever hope to be!" Larten practically yelled in Mika's ear at one point.
"He's a tough kid. He's impressed all of us." Mika agreed patiently, not quite on Larten's level of intoxication yet. Larten rambled on fondly, and Mika half-listened, nodding every now and then. His eyes roamed around the room, taking in the lively chatter and good-natured sparring sessions. Mika wasn't quite in a place where he felt like participating himself, but he didn't mind living vicariously through them for a few minutes.
He felt a twinge as he saw Arrow in one of the corners, taking part in a darts tournament. The games were played in teams of two against two. Arrow and Kaden had gone undefeated for several rounds, and ironically enough, their latest opponent was Renley and one of his General friends.
Mika couldn't identify what exactly this sight was making him feel. But he did know that, if things had been just a tiny bit different, he'd be the other half of Renley's team. He'd be over there laughing with Arrow and their not-significant-but-kind-of-significant others, a little too drunk and much too competitive. Just like old times.
It was a close game, but Renley and his friend lost when Kaden drove a dart dead-centre into the bullseye. Arrow let out a roar of triumph and hoisted her onto his shoulder and they paraded around, hooting and hollering and waving their mugs of ale in the air.
Would he have told Arrow about Renley if the fight hadn't happened? Whatever Mika had with the General wasn't exactly serious, but it had become more than just distraction sex.
Mika knew exactly how this night would've gone if he'd spent it at his best friend's side.
They would've played a few rounds of darts, him, Arrow, Kaden, and Ren. Then later when they were alone, Arrow would've asked Mika if there was something between him and Renley. Mika would've been casually evasive, and Arrow would've rolled his eyes and said it was blatantly obvious. Then Mika would've laughed and admitted that although Renley wasn't his boyfriend, he did a pretty good impression of one. Then Arrow would've congratulated him on finding a ray of sunshine in an upside down world, and Mika would've thanked him. They probably would've hugged or something. And then Mika would've proceeded to grill Arrow relentlessly about his painfully apparent feelings for Kaden. Maybe even hammered some sense into that big bald head.
But it wasn't like that this time. By this point in the night, Mika was pretty sure he'd had an in-depth conversation with every single vampire in this place, except for his best friend. Mika was the centre of attention everywhere he went. They toasted his name, and shoved drinks into his hands at every turn. As always, he was every inch a celebrity. The golden son of Vampire Mountain had never felt more alone.
Eventually he wandered up to the Hall of Princes. His weary feet had carried him there with almost no direction from his brain. He was done. The party still raged all over the mountain, but Mika had nothing left to offer it. It wasn't that he had a bad time. in fact, he had a nice time - all things considered. He knew all along this wouldn't be a good day, but he'd even go so far as to say he handled it better than he expected.
With that said, he was glad it was over.
He headed in the direction of his throne, but found himself in Paris's instead. He didn't plan it, it was an automatic reaction. This was the first throne he ever sat in - long before he had his own. Paris let him "try it on for size" every now and then. Now it was a source of comfort. This was as close as he'd ever get to Paris again, so it was there he finally fell asleep. This particular chapter of his life had reached its end.
When he woke up, everything would pick up where it had left off. The staff would clean up the mountain until no trace of this party remained. The guests would leave, and many - too many - would return to the war. Some would never come back. Maybe the vampire clan could still win this. Maybe they were fucked. Maybe they were all fucked, vampires and vampaneze alike.
But Mika would take it as it came. Because he had to. Because the thousands of hours, the endless patience and effort Paris put into him over more than two centuries... all of that couldn't be for nothing.
It wouldn't be for nothing.
I should've asked you questions
I should've asked you how to be
Asked you to write it down for me
Should've kept every grocery store receipt
'Cause every scrap of you would be taken from me
Watched as you signed your name Marjorie
All your closets of backlogged dreams
And how you left them all to me
95 YEARS AGO:
Have you ever had a day so perfect you couldn't believe it was your life? Have the stars ever lined up for you in a way that suggested you'd actually been the centre of the universe this whole time, and you just didn't realize it til now? Have you ever pinched yourself and been afraid you'd suddenly wake up to find it was all a dream? Do you remember the rush you felt when you realized it wasn't?
Now take that multiply it by a hundred, and that was the day of Mika's investiture. The day all his years of backbreaking work, sleepless days, decades of training that was both physically and mentally gruelling... finally, it all paid off. He did it. He was living the dream that had only been real in his head until now. And somehow it was even better than he could have imagined.
The post-investiture party had started dying down when Mika eventually staggered up to the Hall of Princes. It wasn't like he needed to be there at that moment, his official duty technically hadn't started. He didn't remember why he went up there in the first place - he figured he probably just wanted to go admire his throne some more. He didn't think anyone would be there, but Paris was.
Mika had been awake for about two days straight and was running on nothing but adrenaline and liquor by that point. His voice was reduced to a hoarse croak from the amount of talking, yelling, cheering, and singing that always occurred at a Vampire Mountain party. He looked about ready to fall over and die, but that wasn't what Paris chose to focus on as Mika sat down in the throne beside him.
"I didn't know you were capable of looking so happy." The one-eared Prince teased, winking.
Mika reached over and swatted his beloved mentor playfully on the shoulder.
"Been saving it all for tonight. I don't have an indefinite supply. Need to use it wisely." Mika smirked, grinning hazily at Paris.
"Well, I don't expect you'll find a worthier occasion than this." Said Paris. Then his face became more serious, and he turned to look at his freshly-minted colleague directly. "I'm so proud of you, Mika. More proud than I can begin to explain. You've accomplished incredible things - and you're just getting started." He added in a murmur.
Mika seemed to sober up at those words. He stared back at Paris for a few seconds, almost curiously.
"You say that like you didn't build me from the ground up. Everything I am is because of you." He told Paris at last. "I wouldn't be here without you."
Paris looked Mika dead in the eye. Those ancient blue eyes were always so captivating.
"Long before you were a vampire, you were already a force of nature." Said Paris firmly. "Remember the night we met? Within five minutes, I knew you were born for greatness. I knew it before I even knew your name. I may have pointed you in the right direction, but make no mistake, Mika. If you hadn't been willing to work as hard as you did, no amount of help for me would have gotten you here. Everything you are is because of you. This was always your destiny."
Mika always knew what to say. He could craft a concise, intelligent response for just about anything, and he could do it on the fly. That was one of his most valuable weapons as a politician and a leader.
But the great Mika Ver Leth didn't have a response for this. All he could do was stare back at Paris through blurring eyes and try not to cry at his own damn party.
"Well, you helped a little." He muttered at last.
"Fine." Paris agreed, his eyes twinkling once more. "I helped a little."
They lapsed into a comfortable silence, the first of many that would hang between them as they sat on these thrones as co-Princes.
"Paris?" Mika spoke up eventually.
"Yes?"
"You're still going to tell me what to do, right? Not all the time. Just... every now and then?"
"You don't need my help, Mika. You may be young, but you're as qualified for the position as I. That's the whole reason they threw this party for you, remember?" Paris insisted, still smiling while shaking his head gently. Mika frowned.
"...Humour me anyway?" Said Mika quietly, with a shade of insecurity that Paris didn't recognize. He sighed and looked over at his one-time apprentice. He extended his gnarled, wrinkled arm across the empty space between their thrones, and gently squeezed Mika's hand.
"Of course I will." Paris whispered. "I promise you don't need me nearly as much as you think you do. But you'll figure that out on your own. And no matter what happens, I will be with you."
"Thanks, Paris. That's all I needed to hear."
What died didn't stay dead
What died didn't stay dead
You're alive, you're alive in my head
What died didn't stay dead
What died didn't stay dead
You're alive, so alive
And if I didn't know better
I'd think you were singing to me now
If I didn't know better
I'd think you were still around
I know better
But I still feel you all around
I know better
But you're still around
Honestly guys, in an earlier version of this I had Mika and Arrow making up within MINUTES of the fight. But I read it over and was like... nah. We've done this before, early on in Endgame, the first time they scrapped about Kurda drama. Not this time. Mika is entitled to hold a little grudge here while still being a mature adult about it.
Also sorry if I ruined Vancha. I'm good at writing the characters I'm personally passionate about, and very much sub-par at anything beyond that.
If you're following/enjoying this story, it would be absolutely HUGE if you'd take 10 seconds to leave a comment. I love silent lurkers and frequent commenters alike. I'm overjoyed that you're reading this, even if I don't know you're reading it. But it helps to know you're out there. So please, hit me with that sweet sweet dopamine. You don't have to log in or make an account or whatever, it can be as a guest. Means just as much to me either way.
Thanks for joining me! Wishing you health and safety going into 2021 :)
- Roxy