Hello hello we are back in business here for chapter ... 17? PARDON THE F- okay I shouldn't be surprised. I've already made this series 3x as long as it was meant to be. Honestly I could end Bloodline right here and launch into a fifth but that'd just be embarrassing at this point since I've already done it 3 times.

This chapter has a lot going on. You might laugh. You might cry. You'll almost certainly look up from your screen with a deadpan stare like Jim on the office thinking "are you FUCKING kidding me?" and curse my name. It is what it is, folks.

Chapter 17: Moment Of Truth

Song:This Is War by 30 Seconds To Mars

A warning to the people,
The good and the evil,
This is war.

To the soldier, the civilian,
The martyr, the victim,
This is war.

After seven and a half years of trying to make his life mean something again, Kurda had given up.

For a while, he really had a good thing going for himself. It wasn't exactly great, but it was pretty good. He worked part-time and volunteered as much as he could. He had a house. He kind-of-sort-of made peace with Mika. Maybe peace was a strong word, but they'd reached something of an understanding during the unexpected, emotional roller-coaster of a night they'd spent together.

He was in regular contact with Gracie via mail. At one point he mentioned he had a cell phone now; that she could call him if she felt inclined. She wasn't ready to hear his voice yet, and he understood completely. She was still very guarded with him, but the fact that she wanted to talk to him at all was better than he'd ever dreamed of. He even had a boyfriend for a little while. He knew he could never truly settle down with Nathan, because that would mean Kurda coming clean about who he really was. And that just wasn't on the table. But it was nice while it lasted.

Then it all fell apart. In a momentary lapse of judgement, he accidentally injured Nathan with his vampiric strength - a panic response, a desperate distraction effort gone wrong after he accidentally moaned Mika's name in bed. To add insult to injury.

Nathan would've overlooked it, but Kurda couldn't. He couldn't take it any further with Nathan, knowing their entire relationship was built on lies. So Kurda ended it, and proceeded to succumb to a highly uncharacteristic bender. He probably could've bounced back from that in itself, but then Desmond Tiny walked into his fucking living room. Ever since that night Kurda felt like his brain had been sizzling in a deep fryer. He couldn't think. Couldn't focus on anything but trying to figure out what the hell it meant, and what his role in the world was supposed to be. Had Tiny just come to torture him, like a cat with a mouse? Or was there something more under the surface?

Kurda quit his job. He stopped volunteering. He still had his cottage, but it no longer had hydro or running water seeing as he had no money to pay the bills. He lived off the land now, hunting all his food in the forest and drinking from steams. It was rough, he barely recognized himself when he looked in the mirror now.

Then he found out Paris had died, via an unexpected telepathic message from Vancha. And he was physically incapable of not reaching out to Mika. He didn't know what would happen, but he had to try.

He didn't know if he felt better or worse afterwards. He could tell Mika wasn't in a good place during their brief telepathic exchange. He was masking it well, because that's what Mika does, but Kurda knew him better than that. All he wanted in the world was to flit to Vampire Mountain and just... well, he didn't know exactly what he would've done. He knew full well he'd be executed by the guards the second he set foot anywhere near the mountain, but being alive wasn't all that appealing right now either.

Time had lost all meaning. It was maybe two and a half weeks after that conversation when Kurda heard a loud knock on his door. A jolt of panic shocked him awake, prior to that moment he'd been flaked out on the couch with a half-empty bottle of wine in his hand, all but passed out. So much for that. The last time he'd had a house guest, it had pretty much been the devil himself. He still saw Tiny's cruel eyes in his dreams every night.

He stumbled to the kitchen and found the dagger he kept there, the only weapon he took with him from Vampire Mountain, then he cautiously advanced on the door.

"Who's there? I'm armed." He growled, barely recognizing the rasp that issued from his mouth.

"That's not very pacifist of you." Came a familiar voice from the other side of the door. It took Kurda a fraction of a second to place it, but as soon as it clicked, he put the blade back in its sheath and opened the door.

A tall man with spiked green hair and sun-damaged skin was standing there on his porch. He was dressed head-to-toe in purple hides, a collection of throwing stars strapped to his belt, and smiling as casually as though they had a lunch date.

"Van- I mean - Sire March?!" Kurda choked out, jaw slackening in disbelief. "How... what are you doing here?!"

"I was in the area." Vancha shrugged. "Just on my way back from Vampire Mountain, actually. Sire Skyle's funeral was last week."

"Ah, yes." Said Kurda weakly. "Thanks again for telling me when he passed. I really appreciated it. I would've attended to pay my respects, you know... if circumstances were different."

"You're welcome. And I know you would have." Said Vancha simply. Then he glanced upwards. "Is this your house?"

Kurda laughed weakly.

"It is indeed. Bit of a long story. You can come in, if you'd like."

"I'd like." Said Vancha with an affirmative nod. Kurda retreated inside and Vancha followed him.

"I apologize for the mess, Sire. I'd have cleaned up if I knew you were coming." Kurda offered wearily.

"Smahlt, who do you think you're talking to?" Vancha cackled, clearly amused by Kurda's self-consciousness. "Think I give a damn that your home isn't spotless? I haven't bathed in six months!"

"I'd never guess, Sire." Said Kurda with a wry smile. He was surprised he hadn't smelled Vancha approaching. That was one of the things Kurda liked about being with Mika - he shared Kurda's interest in regular bathing. Although Vancha took it to an extreme, decent hygiene wasn't exactly common in the vampire clan.

"Please, sit down. Can I get you anything to drink? I have... uhh... half a bottle of wine, a can of coke, some cold coffee, a bucket of stream water, and a couple vials of blood." Kurda offered with a grimace.

"Very generous of you, but I'm fine." Said Vancha politely.

"How about food? I have a bit of leftover deer meat." Kurda added.

"I suppose I could do with a snack!" Said Vancha contentedly. "I sure hope it's not cooked!"

"I don't do much cooking these days." Said Kurda weakly. He retreated to his cold cellar for a minute, and returned with two plates of raw meat. Vancha's eyes lit up enthusiastically. "I've inadvertently been modelling my lifestyle after yours recently."

"I could tell." Vancha chuckled. "That flashy golden hair of yours doesn't look like you've brushed it today, never mind this year. Honestly, for a second I thought I was at the wrong house. Barely recognized you."

"I don't recognize myself anymore." Kurda responded flatly. "How'd you find me? Did Mika tell you where I lived?"

"Nah. I checked for you in the Stone of Blood before I left the mountain. I'm sure he would've told me if I asked, but I didn't tell anyone I was planning on visiting you." Vancha explained, nibbling on the meat. "This is delicious, by the way."

"Full credit to the deer for that." Said Kurda. "I didn't do a thing other than cut and clean it. No added seasoning or anything."

"Pfft. Why would anyone add extra flavour? That would dull the taste of the meat!" Vancha snorted.

"You've got me there." Said Kurda with a half-hearted laugh. They ate in silence for a few minutes. Until Kurda couldn't hold back a second longer: "If you don't mind me asking, Sire... why are you here?"

"Straight to the point, aye Smahlt?" Vancha smirked.

"With all due respect, I don't get many visitors these days." Said Kurda earnestly. "Being exiled and all. Not that I mind having some company... but I have to assume you're here for a reason."

"Alright, here it is: last year, Desmond Tiny visited Vampire Mountain. Now, I wasn't there. But the others told me that - what's wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost." Vancha paused, staring back at Kurda with great concern. And Kurda knew why, the mention of Desmond Tiny had caused the blood to drain from his face.

"I already knew Tiny visited the mountain." Kurda croaked. Vancha narrowed his eyes.

"Mika told you?"

"No... Tiny showed up here and told me himself."

Now Vancha was the one who looked like he'd seen a ghost.

"He WHAT?!"

"I thought I was having a nightmare but I never woke up." Kurda whispered, his voice cracking. "He... he's as scary as all the legends say."

"What did he want with you?" Vancha urged.

"That was the strangest part." Said Kurda. He closed his eyes and shuddered at the sight of those little webbed feet kicking off the green boots at the door. "He didn't really want anything from me. He even said so."

"What did he say, exactly?" Vancha pressed. "Do you remember?"

Kurda let out a harsh, humourless bark of laughter.

"I remember every word. It plays on a loop in my head every time I close my eyes."

"Tell me."

"First he told me he visited the mountain... making a point to mention Mika talked back to him, or something-"

"Idiot." Vancha grunted disdainfully. "Sorry, go on." He added as Kurda arched an eyebrow.

"He told me how he almost had Mika killed for it. Then he described how much he relished terrorizing the whole mountain when he started crumbling the Hall of Princes."

"I see. What was the purpose of his visit with you? Was there one?"

"This is where it gets weird. Well, weirder. He claimed it was a social visit... he wanted to congratulate me in person for ruining his plans. That all his planning went down the drain. And that it was somehow my fault." Kurda murmured, hearing the man's voice in his head as he recalled those words. "He said that me walking away with my life after betraying wasn't one of the outcomes he'd predicted. He made it sound like I really inconvenienced him. I don't know what to make of it."

Vancha said nothing. He was watching Kurda intently, so Kurda carried on:

"I asked him why he went to Vampire Mountain, and he said that wasn't for me to know, because I'm legally dead to the clan."

"He said something similar when he met with the other Princes too." Said Vancha suddenly. "I've only had Larten describe it to me about a hundred times now, I feel like I was there... Tiny implied to the other Princes that they blew the clan's first opportunity for peace when they had you arrested and exiled. Darren asked him if it was too late for you to have a hand in the outcome of the war... Tiny laughed and said since you were legally considered dead to the clan, it was irrelevant."

"What does that mean?" Kurda groaned, running his hands through his hair and wincing as his fingers snagged on the tangles that he wasn't used to having there.

"Fuck if I know." Vancha murmured sombrely.

"What else did he say when he visited Vampire Mountain?" Kurda asked. He wasn't sure if he wanted to know.

"I'll tell you. You're going to be glad you're sitting down for this."

Vancha launched into a detailed summary of everything he knew about the meeting in Vampire Mountain, the revelation that the Vampaneze Lord had been half-blooded, and the prophecy about the three hunters. Then he carried on to describe his conversations with Evanna, and his union with Larten, Darren, and Harkat. Then finally, the most recent encounter with the Vampaneze Lord himself... ending with the moment he let him go.

"But why?" Kurda whispered, his voice cracking like spring ice on a quiet morning.

Vancha heaved a long sigh and buried his face in his hands for a few minutes.

"I have a few secrets up my sleeve." Vancha murmured. "I believe in openness and honesty, but some things just aren't for the world to know. I've had a lot of years to make peace with all of it... but I guess it's still a work in progress."

"Vancha, what are you talking about?"

Kurda sat back in his chair and cocked an eyebrow expectantly. Vancha sighed again, sounding like he was in pain.

"Before I was a vampire... I was a vampaneze."

"WHAT?!"

Vancha started from the very beginning. Evanna. Gannen. Paris. All of it. By the time he was finished, Kurda's jaw was practically resting on the table.

"Vancha..." said Kurda weakly. "I'm not saying I don't believe you... but this doesn't feel real."

"I guess I'm a pretty good secret keeper." Vancha muttered. There was a distinctly bitter undertone to his voice. "The only vampires who knew were the sitting Princes at the time, and the ones who were invested after. Even though it could never be common knowledge for the whole clan, it was important to me that I didn't hide anything from my fellow Princes. So I told Mika and Arrow shortly after they'd been invested. I'd been working up to telling Darren... I wish I'd done it sooner than I did. The change in clan dynamics made it harder. So I was a coward, and kept putting it off... then I saw my brother that night. I froze. I wasted one of our precious chances. Then I had no choice but to tell the others."

"I'm sorry you had to go through that. All of it." Said Kurda softly. "It shouldn't have to be this way."

"I guess you'd know about tested loyalties, wouldn't you?" Vancha grunted. "Destiny was cruel to you all those years ago. You had one chance to do the right thing, even though it would cost you everything. And you damn near did it, too. When you ultimately failed, it wasn't because of your own weakness. You never wavered... unlike me."

"You're not weak, Vancha. Mercy isn't weakness."

"That's a matter of opinion. Listen, Smahlt; I didn't nominate for investiture you because you almost blew yourself up. I nominated you because I thought you could be the person to finally make a change. I knew your nomination had to come from me." Said Vancha heavily. "Paris wasn't radical enough. Arrow hated your politics. It would've looked bad on Mika to promote his boyfriend. But then you gave me the perfect excuse to set it into motion... your political views weren't exactly popular, so I had to time it right. I didn't want to nominate you only to have you lose the General vote. I knew your name would be toasted mightily after what you did on that mission, so I set it in motion. Then you passed through the vote, and I thought things would finally start changing. I thought you'd be able to do what I couldn't."

"I don't know what to tell you, Vancha." Kurda croaked. "I tried. I put it all on the line. I put Mika through hell. I drove my own daughter away. I murdered an innocent man. Turned the clan against me. I ruined my own life... And it still didn't work."

"I know." Said Vancha, gravel in his voice. "I just can't shake the feeling that surely there has to be more than this. You can't just rot here for the rest of your life."

"Actually, that's exactly what I have to do." Kurda retorted bitterly. "I'm serving out a sentence here, Sire. I'm a pariah. Regardless of my intentions, I still knowingly committed treason. I made my bed, and I'm lying in it."

"Aye..." Vancha muttered. Almost begrudgingly. Kurda could tell there was more he wanted to say, but whatever it was he kept it to himself.

A weighted silence hung in the air like smog for an indeterminate amount of time.

"How was the funeral?" Kurda ventured at last.

Vancha looked directly at Kurda with a strangely sympathetic look in his eyes.

"Mika's doing fine." He said evenly. Kurda felt himself blush. Of course Vancha saw right through him. The eccentric Prince may have been unconventional, but he was no idiot. Kurda didn't see a point in brushing that off, so he simply sighed wearily and said,

"Thank you. I was worried."

"You still care about him a hell of a lot, don't you?" Vancha inquired. His tone was steady but there was an intense curiosity burning behind his eyes.

Kurda felt his lungs close up.

"How could I not?" He forced out, hating that his voice came out as a whimper. The words scorched his throat like acid. "He was the love of my life. You can't just turn that off when it's not convenient. Gods know I fucking tried!"

"I imagine your history with Mika certainly complicated things for you." Said Vancha. His face was impossible to read. "Couldn't have been easy plotting his demise... Hell of a way to break up with someone."

Maybe it was the alcohol's toll on his mental functioning. Maybe it was the sleep deprivation brought on by persistent nightmares of Desmond Tiny. But something inside Kurda's soul snapped, and he couldn't hold back the truth that came ripping out of his lips. The last piece of his once-secret burden that was still a secret.

"I was never going to kill Mika!"

"Pardon me?"

"I wasn't going to kill him! Paris and Arrow, yes. And I hate myself for it. But not Mika. Never Mika." Kurda whispered, his entire body trembling.

Vancha gawked back at him like he'd sprouted a second head, his lips were opening and closing like a beached fish - but no sound was coming out.

"The poisoned wine I set aside to take out the Princes?" Kurda continued, universes of emotion flashing in his eyes. "I purposely chose a type Mika hates. He got really sick on it when he was younger - he can't even smell it without gagging. You know he's picky with his alcohol. So I knew he wouldn't touch it."

Vancha's eyes narrowed and his face snapped from stunned to chillingly shrewd.

"Smahlt, what are you going on about? I'm glad your assassination attempt failed, for my colleagues' sake. But leaving any of the Princes alive would've derailed your plan if you'd gotten that far. It would've defeated the purpose. Make it make sense." The green-haired Prince countered with great intent. He studied Kurda's face as though more secrets would reveal themselves if he looked hard enough.

"I had a fancy bottle of whiskey imported for Mika. He would've toasted me with that, while the others had the poisoned wine." Kurda explained grimly. "The whiskey was spiked too - but a different poison. Wouldn't have killed him, but it would've put him in a coma. For days, if not weeks. Would've given me plenty of time to do what needed to be done. I had to keep him out of my way... but I'd never kill him."

"You're not as clever as I gave you credit for." Said Vancha, arching an eyebrow. "Do you not think he would've stopped you the second he regained consciousness and realized what happened? And called me immediately for backup upon finding out Paris and Arrow had fallen?"

"He could try. But by then it would be too late." Said Kurda grimly.

"Why are you telling me this now?" Growled Vancha. He regarded Kurda coolly, processing the revelation.

"What's the point of hiding it any longer? Did you think I'd have the stomach to kill him?! You think I could really go through with that?!" Kurda choked out, suddenly feeling the blood rush to his face.

"That's what everyone thinks! That's what Mika's believed for the past seven years!" Vancha thundered, face reddening. "Gods, why on earth didn't you tell him? Certainly you had the opportunity!"

"It would've complicated everything tenfold." Said Kurda, a silent tear slipping down his cheek. "I still betrayed the clan. I still killed Gavner. I was still intending on assassinating Paris and Arrow. Admitting my choice to spare Mika wouldn't have altered my sentencing. And it would've made my exile that much harder on him... because there'd be a part of him that still loved me. I couldn't kill Mika, but for him to any chance of moving on from what I did... I had to kill that part of him."

"You sure as hell killed part of him." Said Vancha gruffly. "But not THAT part. He puts up a tough front, but I've known him a long time. Longer than you. He's still in love with you, Smahlt."

"I know that." Kurda panted as the tears began to fall more heavily. "I had to try. But I destroyed him anyway."

"No you didn't." Said Vancha simply. "Only an sole individual has the power to destroy themselves. It's true you hurt him terribly - in ways that he's still healing from all these years later."

Kurda leaned forwards onto the table and buried his face in his hands, breathing heavily as his body shook with sobs.

"It's also true that he didn't deserve it. But the threat you were facing was so much bigger than either of you." Vancha continued. "Mika understands that now. It took a while, but he got there in the end. And he's not ruined, or broken. I promise you that."

Kurda slowly raised his head to meet Vancha's gaze. Vancha smiled again. It was more wary and guarded than before, but it was genuine.

"Really?"

"Really. In fact, do I ever have a story for you!"

So Vancha recounted the story of the brawl that took place between himself, Mika, and Arrow in the days leading up to Paris's funeral. Starting with the argument, the way it escalated to physical blows.

When Vancha finally stopped speaking, the silence in the room was as deafening as it was after Vancha's earlier revelation.

"I can't imaging the three of you throwing down." Kurda remarked. "I remember watching you and Larten brawl all those years ago... and I thought that was intense. I can't believe you three didn't kill each other."

"It wasn't a pretty fight. I can't speak for Mika or Arrow, but I'm rather embarrassed it came to that." Said Vancha calmly. "But don't misinterpret my intentions. I didn't trek all the way out here to spoon-feed you hot gossip! Frankly we all have bigger things to worry about."

Kurda's face clouded over again.

"You're right. Just knowing Mika is still in one piece after everything... it means more to me than I can describe. So thank you, from the bottom of my heart."

"Have you seen him... since?" Vancha asked cautiously.

"Once. Complete silence for six years and then he showed up here with a letter from our daughter."

Vancha's face softened.

"Ah. I can only imagine how hard this must've been on her. Poor girl."

"Mika left it up to her to form her own opinion of me, after what I did." Kurda murmured. "He could've just as easily made it so I never saw or heard from her again. But he didn't. I'll never be able to repay him for that."

"Mika's always been honourable. You picked a good one." Said Vancha drily.

Kurda laughed hollowly at that.

"It took a while, but Gracie reached out when she was ready. Now we write to each other every week. It's more than I ever thought I'd have." Kurda added, feeling his eyes dampen. He didn't care. "I'm so proud of her."

"Mika mentioned she's working her way up to being a big-city something-or-other." Said Vancha with a grin.

"Corporate lawyer." Kurda clarified.

"Sounds important."

"Seems that way."

They idly chatted for another hour or so. When the sun began to rise, Vancha asked if he could spend the night. Kurda offered him the couch, but Vancha said the basement floor would be much more to his liking. So he thanked Kurda for his hospitality and made his way down.

And when Kurda woke up the following night, he was gone.

It's the moment of truth, and the moment to lie,
The moment to live and the moment to die,
The moment to fight, the moment to fight
To fight, to fight, to fight

Days became weeks, weeks became months, and eventually Mika began to adjust to living in a world without Paris. He didn't exactly have a choice; the war raged on regardless.

Mika was grateful to be so busy, but being the sole Prince in Vampire Mountain was less than ideal. Although he had no shortage of company, residing exclusively in the Hall of Princes got a little tiring. And by tiring, we mean utter psychological torture.

Back when it was him and Paris running the show, they essentially spent every waking moment in there, leaving only to sleep for a few hours at a time. But now, Mika was realizing how much difference that brief change of scenery made. He tried not to complain too much, after all there were still plenty of casualties being reported from the field every week, to the point where Mika felt guilty about being safe in here. Plus, this was his entire fucking job. This was the deal he took when he pledged his life to the clan. He signed up for this - good, bad, and ugly.

At least the Hall of Princes was well-equipped for lengthy stays. There was a small meeting room directly behind the throne platform which Mika had converted into something of a bedroom over the course of a few days, rearranging things here and there whenever he had an hour to himself. Back when Mika was away in the field, Darren and Paris had brought a spare coffin in for convenience sake. Mika had since co-opted it, it now rested cozily in the corner of the old meeting room.

In the left corner of the Hall, there was a narrow corridor - more of a crack in the wall - which contained a water closet. And if you walked further into the darkness, turned right, and wedged yourself into this one particular crevice, you could sometimes stand under a rivulet of melting snow trickling down from cracks high above. It wasn't quite a shower, but it was better than nothing. Abysmal hygiene could remain Vancha's claim to fame.

Mika's obligatory confinement also meant losing the one-on-one time he'd been spending with Renley prior to Paris's death. As fun as it was having a friend with benefits, Mika hadn't realized til now that the real benefit was more mental than physical. It wasn't just the sex he missed (stellar as it was), it was the company. It was having someone to talk to. Someone who didn't tiptoe around him, or tell him what they thought he wanted to hear. He still saw Renley daily, but the Hall of Princes was almost always full of people, and heavily guarded around the clock. So Mika couldn't exactly smuggle him in for a sleepover.

So whatever they had, or didn't have, was put on hold indefinitely. Maybe it was better that way. It wasn't as if Mika had any shortage of other things that required his full attention.

Then there came one particularly long day at the end of a really stressful week.

Eight consecutive hours of meetings. Bad news pouring in from multiple sources. Mika had to spend so much time manipulating troops in the field via the Stone of Blood, by the time it was over his brain was so fried he barely knew which way was up. Using the Stone of Blood was mentally taxing; Mika already knew that. He was in the prime of his life, a few headaches wouldn't hold him back. What he didn't know was how Paris survived doing it alone for the five years Mika was away from the mountain. Although Darren had been there to share Princely duties with Paris during that time, the boy wasn't able to use the Stone the way a fully-blooded Prince could.

And there was still no end in sight. By the time the crisis was averted, not a single soul in the mountain had slept in over a day and a half. Mika finished strong and got them through it - Paris would have been proud. When he finally dismissed the crowd of vampires that had been gathered in the hall throughout the crisis, he was so strung out it took him a minute to notice Renley had stayed behind.

"I've received word from one of my General friends." Said Renley pointedly as he ascended up the throne platform, loudly enough so the guards could hear. "Can we discuss the matter in the meeting room?"

"Just tell me here. It's fine." Said Mika. He was slouched sideways in his throne, eyes half-open, fully intending to fall asleep right there.

Renley rolled his eyes impatiently.

"I really think we should talk in private." He insisted slowly, enunciating every word and waiting for Mika to catch up. On the word "private", his eyebrows arched so high they practically disappeared into his hairline.

"Ren, whatever it is, just say it." Mika grunted back, gloriously oblivious.

Renley shot him a look of pure exasperation, pointed at Mika, then at himself, and drove the point home with a crude, suggestive hand gesture.

"Oh." Said Mika, belatedly putting it together. "Yeah. Let's go to the meeting room. You can tell me all about your... thing."

Funnily enough, they didn't even have sex that night. They had every intention to, but they ended up just talking for hours until all that stress dissolved, until they both fell asleep. Side-by-side on the floor, sharing one blanket, because the spare coffin wasn't wide enough for two.

Mika eventually woke up a few hours later, his head on Renley's chest and his arm draped across the General's well-muscled body. His body felt stiff from laying on the hard stone floor, but he somehow felt warmer than he'd felt in ages. It hadn't been a long enough sleep, but it had been a good one.

"You're still here?" He mumbled groggily.

"Good morning, gorgeous." Said Renley, with soft sleepy version of his typical breezy laugh. He kissed Mika's forehead lightly while also running his palms up and down his back. "And yeah. Magic doors, remember? I couldn't leave even if I wanted to. I wasn't about to wake you up just to go let me out. I'm not a cat." He added.

Mika enjoyed a brief laugh at a mental image in which he stood at the door of the Hall of Princes with his hand by the automatic panel, asking "In or out?" while Renley stood in the middle of the doorway and gawked blankly at him. Like that massive, fluffy, empty-headed cat Gracie used to have.

"What's so funny?" Ren asked.

"Don't worry about it."

"Whatever. And for the record, I didn't want to leave." Renley added offhandedly. "I missed this, you know. Missed you."

"Wow." Said Mika with a lazy smirk, finally lifting his head and opening his eyes. "And I didn't even put out."

"You can just say you missed me too." Said Renley, holding Mika's gaze with an expression that was hard to read. "It's only you and me in here. No one's going to judge you. And I won't tell."

Expectation (i.e. what Mika wanted to say): I missed you too, Ren. I needed this. I hate being stuck in here. I'm so lonely.

Reality (what Mika actually said): "Imagine having enough free time to think about anything but work. Must be nice."

"You almost had it." Said Renley with a wry grin. "So close, yet so far."

"Maybe next time." Mika replied, somewhat guardedly. Sometimes he really, really did not enjoy being like this.

"Yeah. Next time for sure. I believe in you." Said Renley.

Mika sighed and rested his head back on Renley's chest. He had maybe another twenty minutes before he had to get up and go be functional, open the Hall back up for what would inevitably be a day exactly like every other.

"I don't want to work today." Mika mumbled after a few minutes.

"Well, you have to."

"I didn't say I wasn't going to. I said I didn't want to."

"I know. Trust me, if I had my way, I'd spend all day here on the floor with you." Said Renley with a distinctly offhanded note of affection.

"And if I had my way, I'd take a six month vacation, far away from this place. Alone." Mika fired back without the slightest hesitation. He waited for the gently admonishing response he was sure was coming. But to his surprise, Renley broke down in a gale of laughter. His body shook so hard it could no longer serve as a comfortable pillow, and Mika begrudgingly sat upright to glare at him.

"Are you done?"

"Yeah, yeah... sorry." Renley cackled helplessly, sitting up so he could see Mika at eye-level. Eventually he caught his breath. But the sudden laughter left behind a strange look in his eyes that Mika had never seen before. Then Renley tilted his head, his lips parted slightly - then he paused.

Mika knew what was coming. But he didn't have time to run from it. He just sat there like a deer in headlights, waiting for the inevitable.

"I love you, Mika." Said Renley, as calmly as though commenting on the weather. There it was. He flashed that breezy smile that had become so familiar, but there was a reluctance about it. A hesitation. Like Renley knew exactly what dizzying chemical reaction those words were going to trigger inside Mika's head.

Fuck.

Fuuuuuck.

Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck.

Mika froze, feeling every hair on his body stand on end as his heart rate spiked in a way he wasn't prepared for. He was lost, head empty, no thoughts, brain floating untethered through space.

He wanted to say it back. Maybe saying it back would make it true. He wanted to believe that so badly.

But it didn't work like that.

"I'm... crazy about you." Mika offered at last, trying and failing to keep his voice as calm as Renley's had been. Renley simply smiled back at him, with as much adoration as ever. But it was hard to ignore the disappointment in his eyes. He didn't say anything, he just reached out and gently stroked Mika's cheekbone.

"I told you so many times, Ren." Mika croaked. Hating how fragile and betrayed he suddenly felt, and how it came across clearly in his voice. "I told you I wasn't going down this road. Not now, possibly not ever. I told you I couldn't handle it. And you said you understood. We agreed. It was just sex."

"Of course I understood. But that was months ago... it hasn't been "just" sex in a long time." Said Renley. "I thought you were starting to figure that out." His voice was soft and unassuming, but firm. His mahogany eyes gently held Mika's steely gaze, even when all he wanted to do was look away.

"I'm trying, okay?" Mika replied, heading the crack in his voice with the word 'okay' and loathing himself.

"I know you are." Said Renley, so patiently Mika almost resented him for it. "I didn't mean to alarm you. I just thought you should know."

"Don't give up on me." Mika's voice split the silence after a weighted pause. It was more of a question than anything else. And it was met with a look of indignant disbelief from Renley, layered with confusing blend of heartbreak and frustration.

"Give up on you?" Renley choked out. "Fuck, Mika... Are you crazy? I'm not going anywhere. You may have convinced everyone else that you're this bulletproof, cocky, heartless bastard... but I see right through you. You can't scare me away." Ren's voice was as soft and sweet as honey, but there was a fire blazing in his eyes that told Mika he meant every word he said.

Mika closed his eyes and ran his hand through his hair, as he always did when he had too much on his mind. Renley's brow furrowed in concern.

"Hey... don't stress yourself out. I'm sorry I sprung that on you. Look at me." Renley added, a serious note to his voice. "I know it's sudden, and it's okay if you're not ready to say it back. I just didn't know when I'd get another chance to have you to myself... so I had to tell you."

"You must really, really want an investiture nomination." Mika deadpanned after another long silence. Renley scoffed at him.

"Don't you ever get tired of hiding behind that sarcasm?" Said Renley sadly. "How do you not understand that you're so much more than your power? Not everybody wants something from you."

"Well, I don't exactly have a lot of redeeming qualities, Ren. I work with what I've got. And I have to say, is that I'm really starting to question your taste."

"Excuse you?"

"Everyone knows you have your eyes on an investiture someday." Said Mika.

"I've never denied that." Renley shrugged.

"So naturally, at first I figured you were just... you know, trying to sleep your way to the top." Mika continued, arching an eyebrow while Renley rolled his eyes. "But that didn't bother me. I'd never give you preferential treatment, and I needed the distraction."

"You had that little faith in me?" Renley groaned in dismay, swatting Mika's shoulder lightly.

"You had a good thing going." Mika replied tonelessly. "Unlimited sex. No strings. No baggage. No responsibilities. But now you're telling me you WANT to be part of my chaos? I don't even want to spend time with myself. But you're here voluntarily. I don't get it."

Renley exhaled a long sigh that suggested his patience had expired, and arched his eyebrows to regard Mika with an incredible sternness.

"Alright, you impossible prick." He told Mika. "You asked for it. Now I'm going to make you sit there and listen, while I tell you exactly how good my taste is. Got it?"

"I think I'm ready to go to work after all." Said Mika bluntly, starting to stand up. Knowing Renley would pull him back down into his arms, and not resisting in the slightest when he did.

"Here we go: I love how independence, and your confidence - even though you're secretly a train wreck, you still wear it well. I love your attitude." Renley began slowly. "I love your wicked sense of humour, and I love watching it go over people's heads while you sit back and enjoy their confusion." Said Renley. He was now sitting with his back against the wall and Mika rested comfortably against his chest. "I love your drive. I love watching you work, how fucking smart you are, how you lean into me when you're tired." Renley continued. "I love your eyes, especially when they get that determined look in them. Could stare at you all day. You're smoking hot, and I love that you know it. And don't you dare deny it-"

"Wasn't going to." Mika put in.

"...And for reasons that don't make sense to me, I love how THAT was your response to everything I just told you." Renley concluded with a wry smile.

"Give me a minute, I'm working on it." Said Mika seriously. "Okay, here we go. You... well, you're mainly pleasant to be around. You bring me food sometimes. You haven't stabbed me in the back yet, so you've got that going for you."

"Could you lower the bar any more?" Renley winced. "My gods. You're making me sad."

"I'm not done! You're good in bed, bonus points there. Easy on the eyes, I guess. You talk a lot, but nobody's perfect."

"Know what? You're right. You're irredeemable." Said Renley sardonically, even though Mika could hear the smile in his voice while he held on a little tighter.

"Stop interrupting me." Said Mika, straight-faced.

"Sorry."

"What I was going to say... was that somewhere in all that chaos, you became something I didn't know I needed. You were my lifeline when I didn't even realize I was drowning." Said Mika quietly. "You saw me at my worst, and you stayed. You... you've been my fucking hero. That's the truth. Even if I'm never able to say those three words back to you... it won't be because you weren't enough."

Renley's rough, battle-scarred hand lightly grasped Mika's jaw and gently tilted his head back. At just enough of an angle so that he could press a lazy, sensual kiss into Mika's lips.

"Gods, I wish you could see yourself how I see you." Said Renley after a moment, pulling back from the kiss just far enough to get the words out. "Then maybe you'd understand why I fell for you."

Mika didn't say anything. He just stared back at Renley for a few seconds, contemplative. Taking him all in. When he kissed Renley again, it was full-force, passionate. It was as close as he could come to expressing the tangled ball of half-baked feelings that was rattling around in his head. But it got the point across, and Renley kissed him back just as hard.

One thing led to another, as things tend to do. The Hall of Princes opened fifteen minutes later than normal that night.

To the right, To the left
We will fight to the death
To the edge of the earth
It's a brave new world
From the last to the first

To the right, To the left
We will fight to the death
To the edge of the earth
It's a brave new world
It's a brave new world

Mika didn't get to spend a lot of time with Renley in the days after that. Mika, of course, had no choice but to remain in the Hall of Princes twenty-four hours a day and seven days a week. And Renley, currently the most senior General in the mountain, spent the vast majority of his days in the sporting halls, overseeing the onboarding of new recruits.

Mika was glad that his plate was so full. It meant he could push Renley's revelation to the back of his mind, and pretend it never happened. Part of him knew it had been coming. Most of him knew Renley meant what he said. Some of him even wanted to say it back. But there was this tiny-but-loud part of Mika's brain that just kept yelling, "He's using you, idiot! Don't fall into that trap again!"

'But Kurda didn't use me', he argued to himself. 'Maybe it looked that way to everyone else. Maybe it even felt that way. But he didn't. I know he didn't. Also why are we still thinking about Kurda? Fuck you, brain'.

Three days later, Mika would look back fondly on the small window of time where his clear-as-mud feelings for Renley were his biggest worry.

The final meeting of the night had just ended. Seba was sitting in Paris's throne studying points on a map and Mika was occupied reading over a transcription of a field report. It was just the two of them there in the Hall of Princes when the phone rang. It would be Gracie, she was the only person in the world who had the number of the clunky old military telephone Mika kept behind his throne. The device was capable of picking up signal anywhere on earth. When he was here in the mountain, it was their only way of contacting each other.

"Hey, Princess." Said Mika contentedly as he held the heavy receiver up to his ear. But his blood quickly turned to ice, all he could hear on the other end was erratic sobbing. She was trying to speak but unable to form any coherent words.

"What's going on? Talk to me."

"Dad..." came Gracie's voice through the line, faint and shaky.

"I'm here, Gracie. Are you okay?"

Seba was looking over at Mika now, concern etched into the Quartermaster's ancient face as he watched Mika tense up and go white as a sheet.

"I'm okay..." she whimpered at last. "But... but..."

"Breathe... just breathe." Mika urged her, not heeding his own advice in the slightest. "Tell me what's going on."

His heart began to pound, faster and faster, and within seconds it felt like it was on the brink of exploding. He thought he knew what panic felt like, inside and out. He thought he'd tasted fear. But he'd never felt anything like this in his entire life. This felt like an out-of-body experience. She wasn't a drama queen, she wouldn't be calling him in tears unless something was WRONG wrong.

"It's Dale... Dale's dead. His roommate found him an hour ago... in their bath tub." She sobbed.

"I'm so sorry." Mika murmured into the phone as his heart sank. Despite the fact he'd always thought Gracie's boyfriend was a little dull, Dale had been a very kind man. And that was all that really mattered in the end.

"Dad, his body was completely drained of blood." She could barely get the words out.

Mika's heart stopped completely. For a moment his vision went black and he thought he might pass out. But he shook his head to knock his brain back into place. The second he heard those words, he knew what had happened, why it happened, and what was going to happen next.

"Are you sure?" He whispered as he white-knuckled the armrest of his throne so hard it left nail marks in the wood.

"Thats what his roommate said, and the police confirmed it. They ruled it a suicide... but he'd never do that. I know he wouldn't. Dad, he was murdered!"

Mika felt like all the oxygen had been sucked from the room, like his lungs were caving in. All due respect to Dale, but this was no longer about him. It never really had been. The man hadn't deserved to be collateral damage of a war he had no idea existed, but Mika didn't have a spare thought for him at this present moment. He stood up slowly.

"It was them. It was the vampaneze, wasn't it? It can't be a coincidence, right?" Gracie added, so quietly Mika could barely hear her. He couldn't speak. His mind and body felt paralyzed.

"Dad, do they know who I am? Am I in danger?"

And there it was. Mika's worst nightmare. His deepest, darkest fear was becoming real. His enemies were using his daughter against him. But he couldn't cave into panic right now. He had a job to do. He'd never actually read a parenting book, but he doubted they would've contained instructions for this kind of problem.

"Where are you right now?" Mika asked sharply, sidestepping her question. "Are you somewhere safe?"

"I'm... I'm in my apartment..."

"Grace, listen to me. Lock your door and keep your dagger close. Pack a bag. I'll be there in less than an hour to flit you back to the mountain. Be ready to go, do you understand me?"

"I understand." Her voice shook but she was trying to stay strong.

"I'm leaving right now. I'll be as fast as I can. Just don't panic. I'll see you soon." Mika told her in the most forced tone of calm he'd ever accomplished, and that was saying something. "Everything's going to be okay. I'm going to take care of it. I love you, Gracie.

"I love you too." She whispered back.

Mika slammed the phone down made quick tracks towards the doors.

"Mika! What happened?" Seba gasped, having to jog to keep up.

"The vampaneze killed her boyfriend. It's not a coincidence. They know who she is."

"They are sending you a message." Seba croaked weakly.

"No shit. I'm answering them." Mika replied grimly.

Mika reached the doors and pressed his palm against the panel to open them but Seba rushed past him and placed himself between the doors and Mika.

"I know you are terrified. I can only imagine how you must be feeling, but listen to me. There are no other Princes in the mountain! You cannot leave. Send some Generals, or Vancha or Arrow to her aid. They can flit there as quickly as you could. It might be a trap." Seba implored, following Mika as he swept out of the Hall of Princes.

Mika stared him down, eyes blazing like hellfire.

"Of course it's a fucking trap! I don't care! Whatever's waiting, I'll be ready for it. You listen to me, Seba. That's my daughter." He snarled, lacing every single word with visceral sincerity.

"Mika, please! Just think for a moment!"

"Double the guards by the Hall of Princes. That's an order. If I'm not back in a few hours, call Vancha or Arrow. I'm going to do whatever I need to do to keep her safe. And if you try to stop me I'll knock you out." Mika snarled. He roughly brushed past Seba and bolted down the corridor without a backwards glance, not listening to whatever meek protest the Quartermaster was yelling. He ran down to the armoury as fast as he could to pick up some weapons. He belatedly realized he had no idea where his key was, so he ripped his locker door off its hinges and withdrew his sharpest sword and a few of his bigger daggers. If they had to get a little blood on them tonight, that was fine by him.

As he'd expected, Renley was training with some cubs in the nearby Hall of Baker Wrent as Mika was flying out of the armoury room. He stopped in the doorway and instantly caught Ren's eye. Renley immediately beamed at him with an expression of genuine delight at his unexpected visitor. But his smile quickly faded as he took in Mika's overall vibe of panicking-but-handling-it-but-still-very-much-panicking.

"General Azerion, come with me. Right now." He snapped. "Bring a weapon."

Renley cocked his head like a curious puppy as he paused the drill he was showing the cubs.

"What's going on? If you're down here, who's in the Hall of Princes?"

The expression Mika gave him in response was enough for the laid-back General to walk away from the cubs without a backward glance.

"Vampaneze. Gracie's in danger. I'm flitting to her right now and you're coming with me." Mika informed him as he began to walk again with Renley at his side.

"Oh, fuck..."

Ren's face went pale. He automatically reached his hand out to Mika, to comfort him, but Mika drew away and continued his brisk pace up the corridor.

"It's okay. We'll get her out. It's going to be okay." Renley told him breathlessly as he tried to keep pace with Mika. His voice laced with a soulful empathy that was well-intentioned but misplaced. Mika had zero time for any of that right now.

"I'm not bringing you moral support." Mika snarled impatiently. "You're the best General in the mountain right now. And believe me when I tell you this is the most important mission you'll ever fucking have."

Part of Mika knew Gracie's life wasn't directly at risk in this exact moment. It was him they wanted, that was obvious. She had nothing to offer them... except her connection to the Hall of Princes. Hurting her wouldn't accomplish anything for them, except for a slow, painful death at Mika's hands.

But if Mika didn't, or couldn't, make it back to Vampire Mountain, someone still had to keep Gracie safe. And it had to be someone he could trust implicitly. That's where Renley came in.

As much as he was scared to death, there was a manic, unhinged, almost feral part of him that was ready for it. He wanted to look upon the faces of the men who'd dared cross his daughter. And then he wanted obliterate them from the universe.

Just before he broke into a flit outside the mountain, he fired one message through the stratosphere - because suddenly, the past didn't matter. There was only this.

MVL: Gracie's in danger. Vampaneze. Flitting there now. Track my location. Find us.

A warning to the prophet,
The liar, the honest,
This is war.

To the leader, the pariah,
The victor, the messiah,
This is war.

It's the moment of truth, and the moment to lie,
The moment to live and the moment to die,
The moment to fight, the moment to fight,
To fight, to fight, to fight

Thousands of miles away, Kurda was just waking up for the night. He had about an hour of peace before everything changed.

His routine wasn't quite as erratic as it had been prior to Vancha's visit. His long conversation with the Prince had been tumultuous, to say the very least. He certainly hadn't intended to divulge his last remaining secret to Vancha - the revelation of his intent to spare Mika's life last council. But he didn't regret it. It felt good to say it out loud. He'd almost started to believe he'd been imagining it this entire time.

Without Kurda's prompting, Vancha had promised not to tell Mika. It just didn't make sense to turn his world upside down again. By the sounds of it, Mika was finally winning the hard-fought battle to make peace with all of it.

Part of Kurda knew it was cruel to let Mika believe it, but Kurda knew Mika inside and out. And if Mika thought there was a chance, a single shred of hope they could be something again in this lifetime, he'd fight for it. And Kurda knew he didn't deserve that. Didn't deserve sympathy. Didn't deserve for Mika to tweak the rules, lessen his sentence, or anything of the like.

There was no way for the break to be perfectly clean, but he needed Mika to WANT to maintain a distance from him. So far, it had worked. Mika was getting on with his life, while Kurda was doing the time for committing the crime. As it should be.

Then, that night happened. And everything changed.

Kurda had just poured himself a coffee and had sat down to sip it for several minutes before he headed out to hunt. He'd had an alright sleep, not great. Not terrible. He didn't feel particularly awful, or particularly good at that moment. As far as his life went these days, it started off unmemorable.

But he'd always remember where he was when he got that bone-chilling telepathic message from Mika.

Kurda had been sitting on the left side of his couch, cupping a pale green ceramic coffee mug, and casually skimming the local newspaper.

Then suddenly, that presence in his mind. As familiar as though they still communicated every day. As loud as though Mika was sitting on this couch yelling the words at him.

MVL: Gracie's in danger. Vampaneze. Flitting there now. Track my location. Find us.

Kurda didn't even stop to set the coffee mug on the table. He just dropped it. Whether it landed on the floor or the couch, he'd never know. He simply got up and followed the direction Mika's thoughts were coming from, with his mind locked on the address he wrote on the envelope of every letter he sent his daughter.

His worst fear was coming true, it was one of the last things in the world that tied him to Mika. And all he knew was that the ghosts that haunted the wreckage of their relationship didn't scare him now. Gracie was in danger, and that was the only thing that still scared him. The only thing he had left to lose.

Adrenaline coursed. He didn't hesitate. Didn't even pause. It didn't occur to him to ask questions or seek clarification. He answered Mika before he'd entirely finished processing the information.

KS: I'm coming.

To the right, To the left
We will fight to the death
To the edge of the earth
It's a brave new world
From the last to the first

I did warn you there'd a lot to unpack in this one. Pure fucking chaos and I am so sorry. The next chapter is almost fully written - once again, this started as one chapter but got longer and longer so I chopped it in half. If I had a nickel for every time I've done that, I could buy rights to these characters from Mr. Shan.

Fun fact: This chapter contains three separate plot twists that were not originally part of the plan and were actually added pretty late in the game. Some of this has been planned out for literal months now. Other parts were kind of improvised at the last minute because they just... vibed better. Which parts are they? That's one secret I'll never tell. (You know you love me. xoxo, gossip general)

Thank you for reading this! As always, I appreciate you more than you know. You're under no obligation to leave a comment, but it'd be really, really nice if you did.

Lockdown restrictions are only tightening here, so it doesn't look like I'm going anywhere anytime soon. Stay safe and healthy!

- Roxy