#armand breaking down because the only thing he thought was taken from him by force and not by their own choice is actually alive?

[sapphickurapika]

hi yeah so i desperately need everyone to be aware of this scene between lestat and armand from the lestat musical.

[bandedbulbussnarfblat]

Crazy

Processing through the memories is a lot. Daniel doesn't remember it all, but the more he focuses, the more he remembers. The more he understands. The more he feels. Phantom feelings, ghosts of long dead emotions that still linger.

He had been in love with Armand. That much is clear. That they were a codependent, toxic mess is also pretty clear. It makes perfect sense when he looks at himself; he always chooses the nuclear option. Forget the safe path, no, what Daniel wants is more.

But he isn't a young man anymore. He knows better now.

That doesn't keep him from answering when Armand knocks on his door.

“Fuck off,” he says, and slams the door shut. Or, he tries to. Armand catches it too quickly and pulls it back open.

“Don't you guys have to be invited in?”

“That joke has never been funny, Daniel.”

Armand forces his way inside and glances about the room. “Are your accommodations satisfactory?”

Daniel wants to shake Armand. He wants to shove him out the door and slam it in his face. He wants to pick a fight. It's an all too familiar feeling. Because that's what he'd do, isn't it? Pick a fight with Armand over something small, because the resentment he felt over the one big thing. Fight and scream and break-up, then cry and fuck and make-up.

“You know what they say, a gilded cage is still a cage.”

Armand winces slightly. “This isn't a prison. You're free to go if you wish.”

“I've heard that before,” Daniel says. He remembers a penthouse, an island, a home. Him leaving and returning. Leaving and returning. Armand always found a way to bring him back.

“If you came back, it is because you wanted to, Daniel.”

Daniel feels irrationally upset; how many times have they had this fight? How many times has Armand denied what Daniel knows to be true? How dare he have the nerve to claim he loves him, then fuck with his mind? It's akin to rape, is what it is. It's a violation.

“It's because you screwed with my head. Made it so I couldn't stop thinking of you. Drove me crazy.”

Armand swoops in closer, backing Daniel up to the door. “I drive you crazy?”

He sounds like Daniel is the audacious one. Like he's the one who has long-suffered. Maybe he has. Maybe he's missed Daniel all this time, and has had to live with it. Daniel hopes he did, that he still does. It's what he deserves.

“But of course I have,” Armand says, reading his thoughts. “How could you doubt such a thing?”

He cups Daniel's face in his hands. Daniel instinctively reaches up and grabs at his wrists, trying to pull him away. Armand won't be moved. “I love you. I'd have killed you ages ago, if I didn't love you.”

“That supposed to be romantic?” Daniel snarks. He should be frightened at how easily Armand speaks of killing, but he isn't. It's thrilling, in a way. Makes him fucked up in the head, but there it is.

Mainly, he's just thinking of how Armand said 'love'. Present tense. That's...not something he knows how to deal with.

“Romance? Is that what you want?” Armand says. Daniel doesn't get a chance to answer before Armand is kissing him. He can't get away—Armand is holding him in place. Holding him and kissing him so tenderly, and with such devotion.

It pisses him off. Where does Armand get off? Thinking he can wipe his memories and come back fifty years later like everything is fine? Daniel shoves him off. Moves them so Armand's back is flush against the wall. “You son-of-a-bitch, you think you get to take what you want after fifty years?”

“I think you want to be taken.” Armand leans forward to try to kiss him again.

Daniel pushes him back. “Fuck you,”

“I can see in your head, Daniel. I can see what you want.”

“Stay out of my head!”

Armand presses forward, ignoring Daniel's protesting hands. His mouth comes down near Daniel's ear and he says lowly, “All of your fantasies, Daniel. I can see them. I can give them to you. However you'd like.”

He finishes with a kiss along Daniel's jaw, a nip at his earlobe. And Daniel's only human. He can only withstand so much. He lunges at Armand, catches the lapels of his stupid silk shirt in his hands and tugs him downward. “I hate you,” he whispers, just before crashing their mouths together.

It's a different sort of kiss entirely. Where Armand went for gentle and sweet, Daniel goes straight for deep and dirty. One hand leaves Armand's shirt and goes to wind in his hair, tilting his head to the angle Daniel wants. He practically fucks Armand's mouth with his tongue. Kisses him and kisses him and bites at his lip, sucks at his tongue. He doesn't stop kissing him until he's dizzy and needs to breathe.

When he pulls back, Armand only lets him catch a single breath before he's diving back in. His hands go to Daniel's pants and start working on opening them. Daniel catches his wrists in his hands and presses them to the wall. He takes control of the kiss and licks into Armand's mouth. Armand makes a little noise and twists his wrists in Daniel's grasp.

If he really wanted free, he'd be able to pull away with no problem. No, what he wants is Daniel's permission. Or rather, he wants Daniel to tell him what to do. It's so fucking hot that Daniel nearly caves in.

Nearly.

He pulls away from Armand's mouth, ignoring the way he follows behind him. He has a way of doing it that seems so innocent, like he's acting unconsciously. It's tempting as sin, is what it is. But Daniel is too angry to give in so easily.

Daniel lets go of Armand and steps back. “You can go now.”

Armand blinks at him, doe eyed and confused. Then the familiar flick of irritation. “That can't really be what you want.”

“Get out.”

Armand moves a step closer. “I've waited fifty years-”

“Then you can wait a little longer.”

“How long?”

Daniel ushers him to the door. “Till hell freezes over.”

“Daniel-”

He slams the door in Armand's face.

A moment of weakness, was all it was. He'll be better in the future. No more kissing Armand, or thinking about Armand. That part of his life is long over.

It may be easier said than done.

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also read it here on ao3

[aredhel85]

Blood and Regret

If you want to read on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23368564/chapters/56444086#workskin

So I decided to write not only Marius’s POV, but also a third chapter about the following night, which should be up sometime this week :)

 ---

Blood and Regret

---

I knew I should feel satisfied.

After all these years the source of my pain was gone. Santino was dead.

But that feeling wouldn’t come.

The house was empty now; everyone was gone. The complete silence was almost unbearable and too many unwanted thoughts were crashing down on me.

Why had I acted like that? Why had I insisted on Santino’s death? Because of the fire? Because of the pain? I could have done it years ago then without asking for permission, without dragging Thorne into this.

Why now then?

The reasonable part in me knew perfectly well that I had lied to myself about the reason I had wanted Santino dead. After all, the feeling of needing revenge to find peace hadn’t been there until only some time ago.

When exactly?

Probably after I had given the blood to Amadeo’s children and seeing his reaction. The anger, the anguish. Again, I had made a horrible mistake. I hadn’t done what was best for him, but what I had considered best. I had made a decision that was not mine to make.

It was difficult for me to admit to mistakes and maybe, just maybe, it had been easier to blame Santino for all this pain, for taking him from me and making us almost strangers.

Maybe this was why Santino’s death only left me feeling empty.

I sat on the sofa, perfectly composed, not moving, just staring at the painting of Venice above the fireplace. I had painted it about two years ago.

Not the modern Venice, but the city as it had been when I had spent the few precious years with Amadeo there; the happiest years of the 2000 years of my existence.

Santino had taken it all away from me, but his death had not given it back.

Amadeo had been all too eager to leave, eager to get away.

Understandably so … after all I had hardly recognized myself tonight.

Suddenly the stillness was broken by a very quiet voice from balcony. Too quiet for a mortal to hear, but I understood every word and heard the bitterness behind them.

“Are you happy now?”

I looked up, although I already knew who it was. Amadeo looked at me with an unreadable expression on his face.

“I thought, you had left with the others. Why don’t you come inside?” The words sounded hollow in my own ears. I did not answer his question, because I didn’t know what to say. What was there to say? Santino was dead and how I felt about it did not change a thing.

“I was hesitant to remind you of your greatest mistake, the greatest crime against our kind.”

I flinched. I could hardly blame him. These had been my words, although he had not held them against me until now.

But I still saw him before me, in his black robes instead of the splendid clothes I had bought him when he had still been with me, devoted to the order, no longer considering that life could be different. If had made him a vampire later, if I had allowed him to mature a little more, maybe he would have been able to withstand. Instead he had become another coven leader who had followed Santino’s example.

“Amadeo, I …”

“Don’t call me that!” I closed my mouth. Except from the incident with Sybil and Benji, he had never spoken to me that way. But he wasn’t finished yet. “Amadeo died long ago. He died when he lay awake in his coffin until the rising sun forced him to sleep, thinking of you, grieving for you. He died with every nightmare of you burning.”

I was stunned. He had grieved for me? Well, of course I had expected that he had for a little while, but when I had seen him in the coven, he had seemed perfectly accustomed, content with where he was.

He came in and sat down in an armchair facing me. His next question took me off guard. “Are you disappointed?”

“In what?”

“In me.”

I wanted to say something, but I was at a loss for words. I couldn’t exactly say no without lying.  Still it hurt to see him so obviously distressed, although his expression hadn’t changed. The signs were subtle. He had become a master of hiding his true feelings.

Obviously, he did not expect an answer, but continued speaking right away, corrected himself. “No, I know you’re disappointed in me. I mean in the fact that I survived against your prediction. You told Lestat that you thought I would go into the fire or the sun sooner or later after the coven was destroyed. Are you disappointed I didn’t do it?”

I felt cold all over. How could he say that? I remembered the absolute dread, the anguish when I had thought him dead after the incident with Memnoch, the pure relief when I had found out he was still alive. “What? Of course not.” His only answer was a bitter smile, as if he didn’t believe me.  

“Ama … Armand, please, I know how all this must sound for you, but …”

Again, he cut me off, his voice so angry, and still, it shook slightly. Out of anger or hurt?

“Stop it! You know nothing! How would it sound to you, if your maker, who swore he would love you forever, called you his greatest crime?”

“That was merely because of your youth.”

“I was not that young, Marius! I look old enough to get along just fine! And I’m more than 500 years old now, I don’t think you should keep using my ‘youth’ as an excuse.” He got up and walked over to the window while I watched him. I had to admit, he wasn’t completely wrong. What I had done to him was nothing compared to what Lestat had done to Claudia. Amadeo had been 17 and fully aware of what I had been planning to do. Still, if he had been older …

“How would it sound to you, if your maker, who claimed he loved you, who you thought dead for the longest time, knew that you were in the hands of a satanic coven, and just decided to walk away?”

His voice was so full of pain that I got up without thinking and walked over to him. I raised my hand to reach out to him, but I saw that this gesture was unwanted and would not give him comfort, so I let it sink down again.

Instead I told him what I had told myself for so many years. A version of the truth I had made myself believe. “If you had wanted to leave, you could have. You could have saved yourself. I made you what you are, my blood is powerful, you were stronger than them.”

“Does that make you feel better about yourself? Or do you not even need such a reassurance because at that point you didn’t care anymore already?”

“Armand, I do care, and you know it.”

“Do I?” The tears he couldn’t hold back anymore stung, but even more so did his words. “Then tell me why, why would I have left? What was waiting for me outside of the coven? I thought you were dead, you were everything and I saw you burn, and my whole world went down in flames with you. Tell me, Marius, why should I have left and where would I have gone?”

Was this the only reason he had stayed with the coven? No, that would mean that what had happened with Sybil and Benji would pale in comparison to this betrayal. Automatically, without thinking, I once more tried to defend myself. “You could have started a new life. Lestat was alone, too, after Magnus …” I broke up. The moment the words had left my mouth I regretted them deeply.

I remembered Lestat’s portrayal of me. Marius, the wise father figure, knowing the answers to all the questions. Had I been a fool all along? Had I betrayed my beloved Amadeo in my pride and hurt? In my fear?

Fear of what? What could I have been afraid of?

But I knew it, didn’t I?

All these years I had told myself that Amadeo hadn’t wanted me anymore, that he had found a new home and family with the coven. That he could just have left if he had wanted to. I had even been disappointed that he hadn’t done it, and for the first time I allowed myself to face the injustice I had done to him. He had asked me the perfect question just a moment ago. Why should he have left? Why indeed …

Of course, I couldn’t read his thoughts, but I once thought I knew him through and through. How could I have been so wrong?

He had been through a horrible trauma, he had thought me dead, the coven members had certainly done their best to break his will. He had been alone and afraid and I had left him.

“Oh yes, Lestat.” His voice was dripping with bitterness, bitterness I deserved. It had been a completely different situation. Once more I had done him wrong by comparing his situation to Lestat’s. I shouldn’t have brought him into that. “So I was not strong enough for you, is that it? I was not as strong and bold as Lestat, was I? Maybe not. But when Lestat’s maker went into the flames he had known him for mere hours. But I loved you, Marius, with all I had in me. And then I saw you burn, I was grieving, I was alone, I didn’t care what happened to me. And at some point, I had just … I didn’t know … how to …” His voice broke and he stopped speaking. Tears were running freely now, but he did not allow himself to sob. He wasn’t a boy anymore, I had to stop treating him like one, talking down on him, making decisions for him.

Still, as I saw him before me, so broken, almost defeated, I wanted to hold him, as I had done so long ago.

I decided to just lay a hand on his arm instead, but he pushed me away and for once I respected this and did not try to touch him again.

Instead more excuses. “Armand, I couldn’t have known, I cannot read your mind, you know that. I had been hurt myself, I was disappointed to see you there …” What in the name of God was wrong with me? Couldn’t I just forget my cursed pride and admit a mistake? Beg for forgiveness? Tell him it wasn’t his fault, that I should have seen what was right before my eyes? That I should have understood what had held him there? That he hadn’t betrayed me? That I was sorry for everything I had said and for everything I had failed to do?

I opened my mouth, tried to find the words, but he spoke again before I could.

“They would have killed me, if I hadn’t joined them! I was still in shock from everything that happened, I was weak from them starving me. I couldn’t have fought them then if I had wanted to. But them killing me would have been preferable to you, wouldn’t it? You could have grieved for the sweet little martyr, painted his portraits and I would have been out of your life for good.”

“No!” I had not intended it to come out so loud and he flinched back. Still I did not stop, ignoring my own pain at his words, which were perfectly justified, now that I finally understood what he had indeed been through. It also didn’t matter that I was crying now, too, for the first time in front of anyone else for who knew how many years. My voice shook. “I never ever wanted you to die, Amadeo. In all my existence there was not a single moment in which I wanted you dead.” That was true, even in all my misguided disappointment in him for joining the coven I had never wanted him dead.

“Well, you have an interesting way of showing that.”

I was quiet for a moment. I knew that the only way to make him believe me was to be completely honest with him and share a truth I had only just discovered myself. As shameful as it was. “I was afraid, you know.”

He looked confused. “Afraid? Of them? The coven?”

“No. If I had known that you would have come with me, I would have fought them gladly. I was afraid you had forgotten me. Afraid you would join them in fighting me. I may have just let you kill me if the alternative was hurting you. That was what I was afraid of.” It seemed even more real, now that I had spoken it aloud.

He looked at me for a long time and the silence was so deafening that I wanted to say something just to break it, but he spoke first, his voice barely a whisper.

“I would have come with you. If I had known you were alive, if you had come, if I had seen you, I would have fought them all myself.”

Before I knew it, a very quiet sob escaped me together with fresh tears. Knowing how much pain I could have spared him, made the last bit of my pride vanish.  

“I will not insult you again by asking for your forgiveness. But I am sorry. For all the pain I caused you. For not being there when I should have been. For breaking all the promises I ever made you.”

He brushed his tears away, took a deep breath before speaking again. “So you told the whole world repeatedly – because this will be published too, you know – what a terrible and weak fledgling I am because you were afraid I’d reject you if you came to me? You didn’t come to me when I most needed you, because you were afraid I wouldn’t want you?” “It does sound ridiculous, doesn’t it?” What else could I say?

“So the Great Marius is not perfect after all.”

There was almost something like humour in his voice and a bitter laugh escaped me. “Believe me, I’m far from perfect. For what it’s worth, Armand, I am proud of you. You have come far after the theatre was gone, after Louis and you parted ways. You are not weak, I never thought you were.”

He looked me in the eyes, then sighed. “It means something. It means a lot.” It felt good to hear that, if only for the vague hope that it would give him the chance to heal. From old wounds and fresh ones I had inflicted on him tonight with my ignorant words. Without thinking I reached out a third time and this time he did not push me away when I touched his arm.  

“You’re terrible, you know. I came back to be angry with you”, he said instead.

“Which you have every right to.” “Indeed. I came here to tell you I hated you and I never wanted to see you again. I wanted to tell you to stay out of my life.”

It hurt to hear that, it was more than understandable, but it hurt nonetheless.

He must have seen my pain and rolled his eyes. “Originally. You can’t even let me hate you properly, can you?”

Now the humour in his voice was more obvious, but I hesitated to smile, let alone laugh. We looked at each other for a long moment, and then we both burst out laughing anyway. Short and maybe a little uncomfortable, but still a shared laugh.

“It is almost dawn.” I said this mostly to break the silence once more, but it was true anyway. It was too late for him to leave and find a safe place, if he didn’t want to sleep below ground. “Will you stay? It is too late to safely go somewhere else. You can leave tomorrow.” I hesitated, looking out of the window instead of at him, still ridiculously afraid of rejection, but it was that fear that had brought us to where we were. “Or you can stay. We can hunt together and then … if you want to … talk some more.”

“Do you want me to stay? Be honest, Marius, please. If you made this offer because you feel guilty now or any kind of obligation, please be honest this time. Please.” His voice was steady once more, almost calm. I admired him. He truly was not a boy anymore and the wish to get to know him as he was today grew in me.  

“No. I do feel guilt, that is true. But I see now that you don’t need me.” That was painful to admit. “I want you to stay. I want to get to know the person my boy has become. Pari passu this time.”

He looked at me thoughtfully, then nodded. “Alright then”, he said to my surprise. “Pari passu.” The slightest hint of a smile came to his lips. “I will not call you Master again.” “I would not ask for that. And you haven’t today. Marius is fine. I am no longer your master and you are no longer a boy.”

He looked as relieved as I felt. For once I had said the right thing.

“I will stay for the day and … tomorrow night.”

That was all I had hoped for, all things considered, and I couldn’t help but smile.

 --- The same dialogue as in the first chapter couldn’t be avoided, I hope it was still interesting to see Marius’s side of the story! I’m looking forward to writing the last chapter, until then I’ll be happy if you tell me what you think :)