01/04/2021: It's been a while since I posted on FF, but here I am and in a fandom I didn't expect to be writing for. My mom got me into the Carpathians the summer before my senior year of high school. I read books 1 through 24 in four months, finishing Dark Lycan the day before Dark Wolf was released. I had Independent Novel Study that semester, and my book log had a different title nearly every day.

The series - uncreatively called the Replaced Lifemates AU - came about because I just didn't like some of the pairs. That will be discussed more with each individual story. This story in particular, though, came about because I decided, a few days before Christmas, to reread Dark Celebration. While I was reading, I began thinking about what my OCs would be doing during the Raven's Christmas party. Due to the crunched timeline between when I planning and when the holidays happened, I didn't even start writing until Christmas Day, which is why this is being posted now when it really should have been sometime last month.

Chapter One introduces you to Belle Dubrinsky, and a brief mention of Sophie Bennett. Belle is Mikhail and Jacques' niece, the daughter of their sister Noelle. For those who cannot remember the finer details of Dark Prince, Noelle was the wife of Rand, although they were not lifemates. They had a son together, and when Noelle was murdered by the human vampire hunters two months after the birth, he was given to Deirdre and Tienn to raise. Belle is the OC twin of their canon son. He is going to be called Silas going forward, although he isn't mentioned by name in this chapter. Who she is replacing is irrelevant at this point in time.

For those of you who have read Dark Celebration recently, you may recognize some of the conversation. I was using the book as a script. I did make an attempt to change the exact wording and the order of the conversation as much as possible to make it feel more organic, because there is nothing I hate more than an OC who is living in a glass box; nothing and no one reacts to their presence, and apart from their peanut gallery/greek chorus style comments, they may as well not be there at all. I do my best to avoid that with my OCs.

Now, I am aware that Christine Feehan, while not outright saying that she doesn't want fanfiction written about her works anywhere that I can find, does seem to be uncomfortable with the topic. The only reason I am posting these stories at all is because other people have done so before me. I have always been kind of lax with my disclaimers, and I have only gotten worse since I started posting on Ao3 and Tumblr. It always seemed so silly to me; we're posting on a website called , of course it doesn't belong to us, I shouldn't need to say it every time. In this case, though, with the vagueness of the author on the topic in mind, I will be making sure to post a disclaimer with every chapter.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Dark Series or any characters you recognize from it.


White powder covered everything in the kitchen. It decorated her hair, swirled through the air, lay thickly upon the counters. Belle would be tasting flour for weeks, she was sure. Beside her, Uncle Jacques finally stirred. "What does it mean by 'plait'?" He asked.

"Braid. Like hair." Belle frowned at the recipe in his hand. "But, this is bread! I don't understand-"

Deep, roaring laughter sounded from the doorway. "Uncle Mikhail!" Belle cried, abandoning Jacques to the bread in favor of hugging her eldest uncle around the middle. "Save us! Aunt Shea is trying to kill us with bread!"

Mikhail laughed harder, returning her hug with a gentle squeeze. "I highly doubt that."

"Did you know bread can explode?" Jacques sounded bewildered. "It turned into a volcano and crawled across the counter. I worried it was alive."

"The recipe said to cover it with a tea towel," Belle explained. She shook her head, sending even more flour into the air and all over Mikhail's clothes. "That tea towel didn't have a prayer."

Mikhail continued to laugh. Belle savored the sound, and the warm arms around her. She loved Jacques and Shea, and knew they loved her, but Jacques was not one for laughter, and neither he nor his lifemate were prone to physical affection with anyone but each other. Not like Mikhail and Raven, who gave everything they were to everyone they came across. Belle had lived with her eldest uncle and his lifemate for most of her life, and in the last few weeks of living with Jacques and Shea, helping them prepare for the baby and going over her role in the birthing ceremony, she had missed Mikhail and Raven's easy affection.

"It is not funny," Jacques snapped. "Get in here and help."

"It is very funny," Mikhail insisted. He released Belle and stepped up to the counter. "Making a loaf of bread cannot be more difficult than fighting vampires."

"You say that because you haven't tried it," Belle said, conjuring herself a stool to sit on, away from where the two brothers were now trying to separate the dough into equal parts. "This is our third attempt."

"I assume the second attempt was the explosion?"

"That was our first attempt," Belle said. "Can we not talk about the second attempt?"

"There's something else we need to talk about anyway," Jacques said. He rubbed his arm across his forehead, smearing the flour there. Belle glanced over her shoulder at the doorway. Shea had retreated to her sleeping chamber to rest, but Belle knew she would not like that they were tattling on her to Mikhail. With a quick wave of her hand, the door pulled shut. Jacques brushed his thanks against her mind.

"Shea's been corresponding with a woman who thinks she may be a distant relative," Jacques reported.

Mikhail's smile dimmed. "How long?"

"About a year." Jacques' gaze was firmly on the dough. "The woman found photographs in her attic and apparently is into genealogy. She wrote Shea asking if they could be related. She thinks Shea is Maggie's granddaughter rather than her actual daughter. Shea wanted the pictures of her mother and wrote back to her."

Belle hunched in on herself while the brothers argued. On one hand, Shea shouldn't have contacted the woman. If the Morrison Center discovered the electronic trail, they would all be at risk from the human vampire hunters. While most Carpathians did not consider the humans a major threat, Belle knew differently. They had murdered her birth mother, her adoptive parents, her twin brother, one of her childhood friends, that friend's parents, and nearly her uncle, her aunt, her best friend, and her best friend's parents, all before she had reached her twenty-fifth year. It was why Belle spent so much of her time researching and practicing and updating the safeguards all the Carpathians used. She'd even started creating new ones. After all, what was the point of a safeguard if it couldn't keep you safe?

On the other hand, Belle couldn't honestly say that she wouldn't have done any different if someone had contacted her claiming to have something of her mother's. Belle had only been two months old when Noelle Dubrinsky had been murdered. She had no memories of her birth mother, only what had been shared by Mikhail, and her adoptive parents and Celeste when the latter three lived, and her memories of her adoptive mother were tainted in turn by nightmares of her kidnapping and death. It wasn't the same as holding something her mothers had held, or being able to see them without going through the extra effort of sharing someone's mind.

"What do you know of this woman?" Mikhail asked.

"The woman, Eileen Fitzpatrick, sent Shea numerous photos of Maggie, Shea's mother, and a woman Eileen claimed was Maggie's half sister. Apparently the half sister is Eileen's grandmother."

"How would she find Shea?"

Jacques shrugged. "The internet. Shea researches genealogy all the time."

Mikhail's eyebrow shot up. "Why?"

"Even I use genealogy, Uncle," Belle piped up. "We lost so much knowledge about safeguards when we lost contact with the mage communities, the only option I have is to research individual family histories. It's even more important for Shea. She has to trace genetics to determine if it could play a factor in the deaths of our children. And not just the Carpathian families, but Alexandria's and Sophie's and Raven's, too."

Mikhail sighed heavily. "You are helping with the Carpathian side?"

Belle nodded. "So are Gregori and Francesca. They remember the details that I can't find in our libraries"

"And this Eileen found Shea through the genealogy site she was working on?" Mikhail prompted Jacques.

"Eileen was born in Ireland, but she lives in the States, so I asked Aidan to look into her. She owns a bookstore in San Francisco and spends a great deal of her time looking up her family history in the library, using their computers."

"So at least this woman is far away." Belle and Jacques winced. Mikhail scowled darkly. Thunder cracked overhead. "She's here?"

"Eileen asked Shea what her plans were for Christmas. Shea figured Christmas parties are normal this time of year, so she mentioned it." Jacques looked over the bread loaf. "How did you do that?"

"I raised two girls," Mikhail said. He turned his scowl on the bread. "I like nothing about this party. I should have told Raven no."

"Raven was right, Mikhail. After the last attempt on your life, we all needed something to lighten our spirits," Jacques said.

"And what could be happier than Christmas!" Belle threw up her hands, scattering another cloud of white into the air. Mikhail coughed out a laugh though the flour particles. Jacques gave her a small grin.

"Perhaps," Mikhail said. "We need to take precautions. The vampires may not yet have rallied, but the society working against us is still an issue. It is possible they have heard of our gathering. One or more of the locals is likely in their pay, and we cannot forget that the dark mage lives."

Belle shuddered. What was worse, humans who thought they were saving the world but didn't have their facts straight, or an enemy who'd disguised himself as a friend in order to bring about the ruin of their entire species?

Jacques' eyes glittered dangerously. "We should begin searches of the village."

Belle's gaze flickered between her uncles. Jacques' idea was a sound one, but Mikhail would never agree to it. You would not want your privacy violated in that way, he cautioned her mentally.

I value your lives more, she answered back. We have as much right to defend ourselves as they do.

"At what point does precaution become paranoia?" Mikhail asked aloud, rubbing his forehead. He sighed. "In the end, we will do what we have to." And the argument would continue, too.

"Jacques?"

All three turned to look at the previously empty doorway now occupied by Shea. Her eyes drooped, the dark circles under them seeming more pronounced than ever. "You're supposed to be resting," Belle admonished her.

Shea gave her a tired grin, leaning on the door frame. "And you three are supposed to be making bread," she said.

"We made bread," Belle said. She glanced warily at the loaf that still sat on the counter. "I don't know if I'd trust it, though."

Shea laughed, shaking her head. "You three are adorable," she said. "A prince, a wild man, and a magician scared stiff of a pile of dough."

"I'm not scared of it," Belle protested, while her uncles balked at the use of the word 'adorable.'

"You are," Shea insisted. Mikhail traded places with her behind the counter and came to stand at Belle's side instead. "We'll put an ad out for your lifemate, 'best safeguarder in the business, terrified of bread."

Belle glanced away as Jacques pulled Shea tightly to his side. Lifemates. Belle was fifty now, an adult by both Carpathian and human standards. Anticipation clawed at her. So many hunters had returned for her aunt's party, any one of them could be hers. No one could protest her being claimed if they met tonight. Still, a worm of doubt whispered what if he doesn't want you?

Cursed...a strain of madness...I pity their lifemates...

Belle jumped when Mikhail's hand landed on her shoulder. "I will leave you to your baking," Mikhail said. "I want to talk to Aidan before the party begins." Jacques shot Mikhail a look. "And Julian," he added, with a slight incline of his head. He looked down at her. "Would you mind accompanying me, Belle? There is something I would talk to you about as well."

Belle nodded hesitantly. Had her thoughts slipped through her mental shields? She hoped not. Mikhail had far too much to worry about without adding Belle's personal problems to the list.

At the door, Mikhail suddenly turned back. "I forget to mention one more very important detail about tonight's festivities. Raven has informed me it is my duty as prince to play Santa Claus."

Belle snorted. Jacques choked. Shea covered her own laughter with a cough.

Mikhail nodded. "My thoughts exactly. I have no intention of donning a white beard and red suit. However..."

The expression that crossed Mikhail's face reminded Belle of the Grinch's when he developed his plan to ruin the Whos' Christmas; the cartoon was a favorite of Sara and Falcon's children, and they had made Belle watch it over and over and over when she'd babysat them last week. He wasn't going to ask Uncle Jacques to do it, was he?

Jacques apparently had the same concern. "What are you planning?" he asked. "Because if you think to pass this distasteful task on to your brother..."

Mikhail shook his head slowly, deliberately. Belle could feel his amusement dancing down their shared mental pathways. "I have discovered that there is a use for a son-in-law after all."

Oh, no, that was much worse. "Gregori? Uncle, you can't," Belle protested.

"He'll scare all the children," Shea whisper-hissed behind her.

"Can I be there when you ask him?" Jacques asked. Belle glared at him.

"Don't encourage him," Shea snapped with a glare of her own. "Mikhail, you cannot be serious. Gregori is a bogeyman. The children refuse to say his name aloud and hide when they see him coming."

"I don't think I've ever seen him smile," Belle added.

"I would not be smiling if I was wearing a red suit and white beard," Mikhail pointed out.

"But you're nice and sweet and the children love you," Belle said. "With Gregori, it'll be..." She trailed off, unable to find the words to describe just how terrible this plan was.

"I think it's a wonderful idea," Jacques said. "You do plan to tell his brothers? They will want to be there when you let him know the important role he will be taking in tonight's festivities."

Belle shook her head. Aunt Raven, tell me he's not serious.

He is. Her aunt sounded resigned.

Belle tried to picture it, but all she could see was Gregori lighting a Christmas tree on fire while several children cowered under a nearby table.

"We are off to see Aidan," Mikhail announced, drawing Belle away. "Jacques, I would suggest buying your bread from the store instead. I believe humans find that acceptable as well?"


Chapter Two: Mikhail asks his niece for her opinion and a favor.