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delicious poisoner, soren + isobel

Fic: Endymion

Posted on 2004.09.29 at 00:57
Affectus (State of Mind): groggygroggy
Camena (Music): "Razor Sharp" by Collide

Title:  Endymion
Author:  Green Owl
Rating:  PG
Summary:  Selene's musings on her choices - something dark and lovely from a waking dream.
Word Count:  1,816
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the storyline, the characters or their accessories.
Author Notes: I can't believe the Underworld bunnies decided to gang up on me. But it has happened and I cannot do anything about it except to produce for two fandoms now. I dedicate this piece of fiction to Michael Sheen, who totally whups everyone's butt. Rock out, Sheen, 'cuz you da man!

In the car on the way to Sopron, his voice was laced with fear and weariness.

“Where are we going?”

“Somewhere safe. Rest, Michael. You’re going to need it.”


Thinking through the situation, it was quite possible that Michael and I might be able to escape notice for a few centuries.

Marcus would soon be walking among the undead, if he were not already Awakened.

I thought of the dead lycan sprawled on the floor of the crypt, his blood spreading in a red-black pool, creeping slowly towards Marcus’ chamber.

In my mind’s eye, I pictured the Elder Awakened, and possessing all of the knowledge of the scientist. He would know of Lucian’s struggles. He would know of Kraven’s betrayal.

It was possible that he was no longer a pure vampire.

If the Law of Descent were invoked, I would be the first choice for the next Elder. Viktor was but once removed from the Source, and I was his only living Offspring.

But to return to face my comrades, who I seemingly betrayed?

Return to that snake pit where Kraven might be even now nursing his wounds and rebuilding his power base?

Return to face Marcus, who is not known to me and now has ultimate power?

Or go into hiding with my Firstborn and take our chances?

I needed more time to deliberate the state of affairs, so I kept driving.


Just after we crossed the Austro-Hungarian border, there was curiosity and resignation.

“What’ll they do with us if they find us?”

“If the lycans manage to locate us, they’ll try to recruit you.”


“Your lineage makes you the ranking male and Lucian’s heir. They will try to claim you as their Alpha.”

“You mean they’d want me to be their leader?”


“What about you?”

“I am a Death Dealer. Lycan directives are clear regarding my kind.”

He looked out the window, as if studying the raindrops sliding across the glass.

“And if the vampires find us?”

“If they find you, they will carry out Viktor’s last orders and try to kill you.”


“I said they’d ‘try’.”

He was silent for a long time.

“And you?”

“I don’t know. The situation is…delicate.”

Michael looked at me, the three lines appearing between his eyebrows a signal that he did not understand.

“I can claim that it was my right to avenge my family and the kill Viktor for breaking our three sacred commandments. But I am not sure that any moral code will apply to Ordoghaz after this night.”

For the first time I noticed that his eyes were blue. There had not been much time since I first saw him to study his features, but now it was a detail that I could process.

“I won’t let them hurt you,” he said, his tone fierce with emotion.

Silk, watercolors, cut glass, and now his eyes reminded me of what the sky used to look like at high noon.

“Sleep, Michael. We’ll be there soon.”


A part of me mourned Michael’s Turning, his rude awakening from the dream life he had lived. Had I been faster, more discerning, better informed, perhaps I might have saved him from Lucian’s mark.

He would now be able to look on the splendor of the full moon with wonder, instead of fearing her radiance. He could sleep under her light, peaceful and untainted, dreaming of extending the lives of the mortals a few more decades, all the while ignorant of the battle that raged below the streets.

But I had failed him, and for a brief span of hours, he was deemed my prey. Viktor had ordered me to execute him, and God help me, I considered it.

Absolution. Return to full status in the Coven. Freedom from Kraven’s attentions. All I had to do was pull the trigger.

Even when I freed Michael from that filthy laboratory table, even when he kissed me, I had not made my choice. And when Kraven’s bullets punched toxic holes in his flesh, I felt relief.

Because I was no longer responsible.

Yes, Kraven’s harsh revelation of Viktor’s culpability in the matter of my family sounded the death knell of my crusade against the lycans, but it was too late.

Michael and I were from two different worlds. We could never be. Now at last I was free to mourn that last shred of my humanity, that crippling hunger for passion and compassion that had weakened me from the moment I first saw him on the M3 platform.

I had not reckoned with Lucian. He knew much of strategy, but even more of the deepest, darkest desires of an immortal’s heart.

Looking into Lucian’s eyes, I felt my soul stripped bare.

“Bite him,” he had ordered, as the poison seeped into his cells.

Had I left Michael’s blood untasted, he would still be lying there on the sandy floor of the Underworld, his veins distended by the silver flooding his system as Kraven gloated…so beautiful, like a fallen angel.

Michael had saved my life. He had pulled me from the water, bound my wounds, placed his life in my hands. I made my choice.

I would not let him die, not when I could save him.

The sweet scent of flesh, the hypnotic throbbing of his jugular, the glorious taste of his salt, his skin, his blood – all blended together into one orgiastic swallow of silver ecstacy.

This was the matchless pleasure-pain they had whispered of behind their hands in the parlors across Europe! I truly empathized with Viktor’s weakness in that brief moment when I, too, experienced that deluge of sensations, my hand on Michael’s chest, my teeth in his neck, my tongue lapping at his exposed vein.

Seconds passed and not just his blood, but his being rushed into me. His struggle to bear the pain, his determination to protect me, his attachment to me. Here was honor, passion, loyalty, all mine for the taking. The price? My heart and my soul.

Did I give them in that instant of flight across the dark pool where they fought to the death?


All I knew in that moment was the creature that battled my sire was mine, and despite Michael’s strength, speed and stamina, he could not hope to win against an Elder.

I had to protect him.


His voice was softer, gentler, as we readied for sleep minutes before dawn in Eisenstadt.

“Is ‘Selene’ your real name?”

“That question is considered impolite in immortal circles.”

“Sorry. It just seems a bit out of place in England in the early 1800's. That is when you were born, right?”

I must be patient, I told myself. He is still a child in so many ways.

I did not answer, but looked at him. He had showered for the first time in three days, and it struck me that I had never seen his hair when it was not wet. Though leeched of color in the shadows, it framed his face in soft waves, the moonlight making the sunstreaks shimmer.

How soon those would fade. Pity, that.

Two hundred years of training and my better judgment helped me keep my hands to myself.

His cheeks colored and he ducked his head, the gesture one of submission among lycans and one of respect among vampires.

Best to establish the relationship right out.

“Forgiven, Descendant. Safe slumber.”


At last, he was dead to the world and I finally had the silence I craved.

High noon was approaching, but I found myself still awake, staring at the dark velvet that sheltered my bed and thinking about his last question.

Some of the Kindred choose to keep their mortal names. Viktor and Marcus were so known before they shifted from sun to shadow. Erika’s and Kraven’s were very close to their original Christian names, but for the substitution of a Slavic letter for a Roman one. Some, like myself, chose to make the transformation complete.

For the sake of retribution, I shed the crescent bow of Rome’s virgin huntress and became the daughter of Hyperion, the moon in her plentitude, she who held sway over my enemies.

My dark father gave me his strength, his cunning, his ruthlessness, his hauteur. Lovingly, patiently, he trained away all that made me human and in its place gave me the foundations of immortality: patience, violence, detachment. It was his greatest wish that I not just survive, but thrive while he slumbered.

I had much to live for in those days. In Paris, London, Berlin, Moscow, I hunted, year after year, as he watched over me. And when at last it was time for Amelia to rise, I was no longer a fledgling. I was a blooded and bloodied vampire, worthy of respect and deference.

“You were but a sliver,” my sire said to me as he lay there, the ichor seeping from his body. “Now you are a scythe.”

A scythe he’d intended to rid the world of the wolves that walked among us.

Instead, I had cut him down in defense of the one he called abomination, and I called beloved.

They said hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, but "they" were wrong.

The wrath of a woman whose mate or child is menaced is much more terrifying.

Michael was both to me. And it was time for me to reap what Viktor had sown.

Ancestors, forgive me.


Time passes quickly for those who do not age, and we are no exception.

He is still, solid and deliciously hot, pressed against me from nape to heels. His palm rests on my hipbone, his arm pillows my head. I can feel the low purr of his breathing against my shoulder.

Perhaps the Coven has lost too many to spare an assassin for a past Death Dealer and her hybrid mate.

Perhaps the horde has found an Alpha worth following among its ranks and does not need Michael’s blood.

All that I know is that I have at last fulfilled the promise of my name. New life grows within me and she is just the first of many.

Perhaps now I, too, can sleep.

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