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herbeloved82 · 2 months ago

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For your consumption

Written with @complicitsacrilege here is our version of the Grand Banquet.

The council was going on for hours now, since they all woke up. After what Rhoshamandes did, Lestat decided to double security around the palace, so that no one would ever dare to touch those he loved the most, ever again, and while everyone agreed, glad that their loved ones would be safe, many had suggestions and demands, and like always, they couldn’t agree on anything.

Marius even stopped taking notes, and his expression was the one of someone dangerously close to losing control and allowing his ancient blood to get rid of those who couldn’t seem to get along. Even Seth, by his side, had slightly moved his chair back, taking Fareed’s with him.

Mael, there for some reasons that not Marius, or anyone else could fathom, looked bored out of his mind, and Marius noticed he also looked high on something, like always, Marius would think if he had time to waste upon him and his actions.

Avicus, always the calming presence, was trying to keep him in check, but it was clear he knew it was a lost battle, until the elegantly carved double doors opened with a bang and Armand, one of the few vampires missing, entered the room like he owned it.

“I grow bored of this, my slave,” Armand’s was the first to cut through the monotony, and at once, a silence fell over the room like no other before. All eyes traveled between Armand and Marius in shock.

Armand’s footsteps were all but silent on the marble floor, as he approached Marius’ seat to Lestat’s right. The gathered vampires could’ve been mistaken for statues with how still they sat, were it not for their moving eyes that tracked his progress. When he stopped, he stood behind Marius’ seat, reached down, and grabbed a fistful of Marius’ hair until Marius looked up at him. “Let’s go.” And after Marius didn’t move immediately, he added, tugging his hair, “Now.”

Marius left everything behind, even his notes, and without a single look at any of the others, not even Lestat, he followed Armand out of the room, a step behind him, on his left. When the door closed under the power of one of them, chaos erupted in the room after the heavy silence stretched for a few more seconds.

“What the hell just happened?” Someone asked.

“This - this can’t be right, we didn’t hear right, did we?” Another voice echoed in the confusion.

Lestat was too stunned to answer, his eyes focused on the closed door, unable to understand what he had witnessed. A part of him wanted to run after them and demand an explanation, but he knew, if he tried, that his legs wouldn’t support him.

“I don’t think I am this high.” Mael spoke, looking at Avicus. “But I swear to the gods I once served, that I saw the demonic child call Marius his slave and the pompous Roman obeyed his orders?”

Avicus answered his confused gaze with a more benevolent one. A small smile curved the corners of his lips. “You forget what day it is, my friend.”

At those words, everyone focused on him, shocked at why he was being that calm, and curious to know what the day had to do with Marius’ behavior.

“It is the first day of Saturnalia. The one time in the year when the Masters become slaves and the slaves become Masters. It looks like our beloved Prime Minister is celebrating with the one he loves the most.”

Mael sputtered, indignant. “And that gives them permission to roleplay so shamelessly in front of us?”

“I didn’t know you were such a prude, my friend.” Avicus answered, amused. “Weren’t you the one who used to dance naked around a bonfire?”

The loud boom of palms hitting the wooden table that cracked under such force, put an end to the somehow friendly banter between them as Lestat rose from his seat. “Enough! It’s none of our business what the Prime Minister does, even if he does it with Armand, of all people. This session is over.” And with that he walked away, uninterested in the mess he left behind, followed by Louis who, for once, looked concerned for the outburst of his lover’s emotions.

The outburst after their departure was all too clear as Marius and Armand left the council hall and Armand held his head high, the corners of his lips telling of a smug smile that he held back.

He kept his hand knotted in Marius’ hair as he led the way back to their chambers. For some time now, Armand’s own chamber had been neglected and unused, while he spent most of his time with Marius, and as they passed into the elegantly decorated office and to the bedroom, Armand finally let go of his hair, but not without a gentle push toward the bed.

Marius let himself fall down before he looked up at Armand, who towered over him. “I’m yours to command, Master.” He simply said, and the light shining in his eyes showed that he completely meant what he said, without a single ounce of doubt in his words. “Every one of your wishes will be my command.”

Armand was uncharacteristically silent as he watched Marius, his eyes calculating, but his stillness was all too telling that he was working through a tricky puzzle in his mind. “Undress then, I want to taste you,” he commanded, but made no move toward the bed. Something was troubling him, yet his mind was just as distant from Marius as it always was. A blind spot amongst all the minds that Marius could see into.

Marius didn’t ask. When Armand ws like that, distant and lost in his own thoughts, he had learned not to push. It was hard for him at first, but little by little he had learned how to respect the boundaries that Armand expressed, if not with words, with his actions.

It was a good thing that today, Marius wouldn’t be able to inquire, not even if he really wanted it, for the day belonged to Armand, and only he was in charge. So all he did was to slowly get up, his eyes downcast, as he began to slowly undress.

Today Marius was wearing his usual red tunic, but when he took it off and folded it neatly, he showed that underneath it he wasn’t wearing anything else. As soon as he was done Marius stopped for a moment, as he was thinking about what to do now, and then, without a word, he went down to his knees, his arms behind his back, and waited for Armand to command him.

Armand’s eyes didn’t leave him as he undressed, though there was a spark in them as Marius went to his knees that almost masked the indecision lurking in his mind. Finally, he moved, approaching Marius, and grasped his chin, guiding his attention up before trailing his fingers lower, down the side of his neck, where his slow pulse beat just beneath the skin.

With a flick of his wrist, Armand made a cut in that delicate flesh, not deep enough to last long, but enough that when he raised his fingers to his lips, his fingertips were stained with dark blood. His tongue darted out to lick the blood clean and as he did, his eyes briefly fluttered shut at the taste. The silence between their minds was deafening, and once again, Marius wished he could peer in behind the veil that separated them.

“On the bed,” Armand instructed then, pointing, “on your back.”

With grace Marius raised on his feet and moved to the bed where he proceeded to drape himself over the silk and velvet blankets, like he was a banquet on which only Armand’s eyes and mouth were allowed to feast. As final touch, he moved his head on a side, offering his neck to Armand in a sign of submission.

Armand wasted no time in approaching the bed, not bothering to shed a single article of his own clothing as he watched Marius, his smug smirk growing, “Such a good slave for me,” he murmured.

“Only for you, Master,” Marius responded.

Armand hummed as he observed Marius’ form, his eyes trailing over his exposed flesh as though he could see within it, until finally, he joined Marius on the bed, though he remained at the foot of the bed, kneeling between Marius’ ankles. “Do you remember when you had to remind me who my Master was,” he asked sweetly, though his expression was anything but.

“I do, Master.” His accent fell upon the title as acceptance colored his simple words.

As Marius spoke, Armand’s hand slipped under his ankle, lifting Marius’ foot to his shoulder as his thumb stroked the artery that ran along the inside. There was something almost feral in his gaze as he leaned closer, pressing a kiss to the pulsing vein in the arch of Marius’ foot before biting down sharply without warning.

As sharp fangs sunk into his vein, Marius was taken by surprise when a moan was stolen from his mouth. Then, knowing that there was nothing else he could do, he gave up into the alluring temptation that Armand’s mouth was, and he relaxed into the act.

He was, after all, for his Master to use, and he would accept everything Armand wanted to give him - or to take.

A shudder ran through Armand as Marius watched him drink a few short mouthfuls of blood. Perhaps if Marius were human, he would have been able to distinguish the taste of deoxygenated blood, but Marius knew that on one as ancient as he, it wouldn’t change the taste of his blood.

Blood never lied. Even for Master and fledgling, sharing blood was the only way to have a sense of what the other was feeling, and in some cases, rare and precious, it could ever overpower the silence between their minds.

Marius knew they weren’t there, yet. Soon, hopefully, but not yet. However, now that he had the chance, Marius allowed his emotions to fill him, unaware if that action would affect his blood or now, but what did he have to lose, after all?

When Armand pulled away, his cheeks were flushed a delicate shade of pink, and the look he gave Marius was curious, rather than the arousal that he would have expected. “Is that what you want,” Armand asked, “more? You want me to feast upon you?”

But they both knew that wasn’t entirely what he had gleaned from the blood he had taken. “If that would please you, then yes.”

Armand swallowed, his jaw clenching and unclenching as he seemed to consider what he had seen in the blood and what Marius was telling him. “It would please me,” Armand answered curtly, “it would please me very much.” And as he turned his attention back to the task at hand, he leaned lower, hooking Marius’ knee over his shoulder and slotting himself fully between Marius’ legs.

There was a beat of silence as Armand’s dark eyes flickered back up to Marius before he sank his fangs deep into the flesh of Marius’ thigh. The artery bled freely and the muffled moan that escaped from Armand’s chest combined with the pull of blood from his veins made Marius moan louder.

Armand’s claws dug into his thigh and hip, drawing pricks of blood as he bit down harder, and Marius tipped his head back into the pillows. Armand drank and drank from the wound, seemingly unable to stop himself, until even Marius began to feel the effects, but he made no move to stop him.

Finally, Armand pulled away, rocking back on his heels, his cheeks now rosy with blood, and Marius couldn’t take his eyes off of him. When the swoon finally seemed to have run its course, Armand turned his attention back to Marius, eyes a little unfocused now. As the wound closed on Marius’ thigh, Armand shifted, moving to straddle his hips, though he seemed almost drunk with the blood.

“What is it you want,” Armand asked him abruptly, tracing his fingertips over Marius’ ribs, “I know you want more, but,” he trailed off, not having the words to finish the thought. There was even more confusion hiding in his mind behind his dark eyes, and it seemed to unsettle him. “Is that really what you want?”

For a moment Marius was confused by what Armand was asking, unaware of what he was pointing out at, however he didn’t allow that to stop him from offering Armand a truth, perhaps not the one he wanted to hear, but one that Marius was ready to share nonetheless.

“I want to be the one you want. Everything you want.”

That seemed to be what Armand needed for him to vocalize what was on his mind - what had clearly been on his mind for a very long time, “Then bond with me.” The request was simple, but the weight it held was lost on neither of them. “That is what I want.”

Marius’ head snapped back in place, his eyes serious, digging into Armand’s soul. For a long moment it looked like he would break character and take back his title and the power he had over Armand, and yet, when he opened his mouth it wasn’t a denial, like Armand feared, but a declaration of love so deep and never ending, that perhaps only the one shared between Seth and Fareed could compete with.

“There is nothing else I want more, my Armand, my Master, my love.”

Armand seemed shaken by Marius’ response, only nodding slightly for several seconds as he processed the meaning of Marius’ declaration. “How is it done then,” and after a brief pause, he added, “Show me.”

Marius was silent for a bit, before he gave Armand the answer he needed.

“It’s like being turned all over again. You need to drink from me, until my heart will be close to eternal silence. Only then, you need to give me your blood, so that we will be one. Equal amount of mine blood, and equal yours, so that we will never be away from each other. Never alone again.”

Armand’s expression was almost unreadable, and if Marius didn’t know him as well as he did, he would have thought Armand was thinking of running, but instead, he lowered himself, until they were chest to chest, his knees on either side of Marius’ waist. “So that all of you will be mine and all of me will be yours,” he murmured.

He nuzzled Marius’ neck, pressing against him as though they could become one being by force of will alone. Marius tipped his head back in invitation and Armand took it without hesitation, biting into Marius’ throat until the blood flowed freely over his tongue. He drank deeply and Marius held him there, wrapping his arms around him although the weakness of blood loss began to pull at his veins.

It had been a long time since Marius had ever felt this weak, but he couldn’t bring himself to care about that, not when it was Armand all but draining him dry. A few times, Armand seemed ready to stop, as though worried he could take too much, but Marius held him there until he could no longer manage to keep his arms around Armand.

Only then did Armand pull away, pupils blown and breathing heavily. His body twitched and shuddered slightly as the ancient blood flooded his system, but when he saw Marius, weak and drained below him, he moved back enough to lift them both into a seated position, urging Marius’ head lower until his mouth was pressed to his throat.

Blindly, as a weak newborn kitten, Marius could only relate on instinct when he latched at the offered throat and began to drink, like only a dying man would, if offered some water.

His fangs pierced the delicate skin, and blood that tasted like his own, but was also foreign, invaded his mouth. Like a fledgling, Marius didn’t look able to know what to do with it, but as his mouth filled with the precious liquid, and his throat burned, screaming for nourishment, he finally swallowed.

After the first mouthful went down his throat, bringing back life to his dying body, Marius kept accepting the gift offered to him, until his old strength came back and once again he held Armand in his arms.

When their hearts beat as one, following the same rhythm, only only then, Marius forced himself to let go of the delicious blood he knew he couldn’t live without.

Through the night, they exchanged blood, until slowly, the veil between their minds was lifted and the minds of the others grew dull and distant. Even as the sun began to rise, they continued. They drank lazy mouthfuls of blood from one another, until neither of them could resist the call of the sun any longer and they slept in one another’s arms.

///

When Marius woke, Armand did also, much earlier than he ordinarily would have, and for the first time since he had turned Amadeo, he could feel the presence of his mind, only this time it was coupled with an awareness that had never been there before. A sense of recognition from Armand’s mind, and a probing curiosity. The minds of the others had never been so distant to Marius, even when he was a fledgling himself, but it didn’t matter. After five hundred years, they finally had this.

I love you, Marius thought, and it took barely any effort to project the thoughts to Armand’s mind, and when they reached his mate, Armand blinked in shock. Marius couldn’t hold back his smile, Beyond reason, beyond measure.Armand’s mind seemed to reach out to his own and Marius pressed their foreheads together. I am always yours.

#de romanus coven #de romanus coven event #saturnalia 2024 #Marius/Armand #marius de romanus #armand

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herbeloved82 · 2 months ago

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False Idol

Written with @complicitsacrilege Our second story for the Saturnalia Event. A differen kind of parade towards the God.

There was something strangely alluring about the ancient statue in the bowels of the monastery, and the first time Andrei saw it, he stopped, to stare, transfixed. The monk who directed him to pray in the deepest recesses of the monastery to repent for his sinful thoughts hadn’t accounted for what would become the center of nearly every single one of Andrei’s thoughts for months to come.

Something changed in him irrevocably at the sight of the statue.

It was so beautiful, he thought this must be a statue made by the hand of God himself, hidden away to keep it from the prying eyes of others, so that only those deserving of its impartial, yet intense presence would ever bear witness to its existence. He fell to his knees before the statue at sunset and remained there all throughout the night. On bleeding knees he gazed up at the white marble, praying silently yet unable to look away.

His knees were always bruised and scabbed from then on.

It began innocently enough. Only when he truly deserved to be sent to repent was he sent there, but each time he gazed upon the statue, his mind became more and more preoccupied by its presence. His prayers no longer seemed to be sent to God himself, but rather this false idol.

By the time Andrei realized that this must not be God at all, but a devil in disguise sent to capture the hearts of men, he knew it was too late for him. He began to act out in small ways at first. Little things that would irk the abbot enough to be sent to the depths, past the cells in which only the most enlightened of them would go to meet God, surrounded by silent mud walls from which no sound would escape.

It wasn’t until he was sent to the cell near the statue nearly every night that the abbot began to beat Andrei before sending him down to pray. Despite the pain and the humiliation, he couldn’t stop himself. He had to lay his eyes upon the ageless statue at any cost.

The sight of it made his heart race in his chest and his cheeks flush with anticipation. Though he knew he should, he couldn’t bring himself to care that he was committing one of the greatest sins in worshiping this demon sent to torment him day and night.

The night the abbot caught him masturbating in his bed, the thought of the divine being vivid in his mind, he was locked in a cell just within sight of the statue, and yet as he was brought down, the monks barely cast the statue a second glance. It was as though they were somehow immune to its dark allure. How was it possible? How could they simply not care about the existence of his beautiful demon? Was only he susceptible to its temptations?

///

It was a long time since he went to sleep. There was nothing to bond him to the life he left behind. Most of the time, he couldn’t even remember his name, he didn’t want to. He knew once upon a time he had had one, and a purpose in life.

He had been someone, once, and he had loved. Now all he wanted was to forget and be forgotten. He didn’t know how long he slept, in a slumber that was nothing a mortal could understand.

He didn’t know how old he was, only that people around him had changed accents, language and costumes many times before he had lost interest in listening.

He didn’t know where he was, and he didn’t care.

To their eyes, he was a statue, beautifully carved by some nameless artist forgotten by time and swallowed by anonymity, but he was more, or he had been in the past. Perhaps now he was even less than a statue and that was why darkness surrounded him.

Vaguely he wondered if before this would have bothered him, but now it didn’t, not for a long time, until something changed and a new presence called him closer and closer to the surface. At first he tried to ignore it and began to slip deeper and deeper into his state, but then the presence became stronger, and he couldn’t ignore it.

At first it was just a glimpse of something he couldn’t name. Red hair for example. He knew someone with red hair a long time ago, he thought. That kept him company in his loneliness. Then it was a pair of dark eyes that he couldn’t forget, not even when his consciousness slipped from his fingers, right now that he had a reason to stay.

Then it was pain that dragged him dangerously close to the surface. The presence, a boy he now knew, a young man with red hair and dark eyes and the curious mind of someone who didn’t belong to the darkness, was in pain and something inside him snapped.

For the first time in centuries his hands moved, slightly, as he fought to close them into fists. The call for violence and blood was strong, and he decided not to deny his nature any longer.

The boy was confused. He was in pain, and doubts threatened the bright light he carried, and the fire that burned into his veins. He was an artist, but now his hands ached, he could feel the pain, like broken bones. Someone had touched the hands of an artist.

Rage and hunger awoke inside him. He would punish those fools who dared to touch the boy who called for him, who alone was able to reach for his mind.

One by one he called for them. The men dressed in rags, with symbols in front of them that he couldn’t remember. They used those as a way to instill fear into people’s hearts. In their minds he could see images of burning pits and screaming creatures intent to torment men and women both.

Their hearts were dark as the place where they resided and he knew he needed to free the boy from this.

A memory long buried surfaced in his mind, as clear as the day he lived it.

It was a celebration, a happy moment in his past. Among jubilant people dressed with long tunics and togas, with children running around, their hands and mouth full of sweets, stood a man with blond hair, different from the crowd around him.

Suddenly he knew that man was him. Like he had been before. He was walking, side by side with an older man he didn’t remember, towards a temple. He couldn’t remember what God resided there and if he believed in him. Then the memory was gone and only silence remained.

That very same night, a new procession began.

Men in rags, with their symbols in their hands, like shields that could protect them, marched into the darkness, chanting prayers he didn’t care about, for he wasn’t their God, and he didn’t have to listen to them.

But you are a God. A voice in his mind said, and he knew the voice. It was foreign and familiar at the same time, and it was silent for as long as he could remember.

Feed and rise. Free us. Us? He wondered. Were they prisoners? Wasn’t it his own decision to sleep?

Fool. You need to rule. Your kind is waiting for you. You condemned us to this. It was then that he stopped listening for there was something more important he needed to do, and the voice wasn’t worthy of his attention.

Among the men reaching for him like the crowd reached the temple in his memory, there was the boy. Shaking and bruised. He felt rage overwhelm his consciousness and more of his body began to answer to the call of his mind.

It was like life was flowing into him, like he was being reborn, and not for the first time, and suddenly all he wanted was to see them all suffer, all but the boyhose bd was calling for him, not to feed upon and forget him, but to take care of him, and make him his and his alone.

One by one they presented in front of him their lives as their offerings, and gladly he accepted, like the merciful God you are. The voice said and once again he dismissed it.

///

In spite of his pain from the punishment he had endured, Andrei was all too aware that something was very wrong. The monks were behaving incredibly strangely as they all but dragged him down once again to the bowels of the monastery. He didn’t struggle - after all, this was what he wanted when he acted out - at least not until he saw the statue once again. It had moved. He had moved.

“How,” he whispered, tears forming in his eyes, “it’s not possible.”

And then he moved again. It happened so swiftly, Andrei couldn’t even see the motion. One second one of the monks was there before the statue in supplication, and the next, one of them was in the arms of the statue, head snapped backward and mouth open as the statue’s face pressed against his throat as though to tear it open with his teeth.

Andrei’s eyes widened and he tried to backpedal, to leave, but he was held fast by the strong arms of the abbott.

One by one the monks fell to the statue, a parade of offerings to a nameless god, their bodies cast aside like trash, until it was only Andrei and the abbott who remained.

Slowly, Andrei sank to his knees, unable to stay upright as fear made the world spin around him. He had to remind himself how to breathe. Death wasn’t an uncommon guest among the monks here, however no death had ever been like this. His mind raced with fear of what would happen to him as, once more, the statue moved faster than he could see to attack the abbott, whose expression quickly changed to one of ecstasy.

Andrei could see the statue more clearly now, his throat working as he swallowed - was he drinking their blood? He had never heard of something like this. Only, as he watched, transfixed by fear and an odd sense of curiosity, he realized that he had heard of this. Only stories passed on to frighten children, but it simply wasn’t possible. Not in a church. Not on holy ground.

As the statue lifted his head from the abbott’s lifeless throat, Andrei could see traces of blood on his teeth and lips, and he gave a soft sound of fear, falling back as he tried to comprehend what he was seeing.

///

Memories rushed back to him. The more he fed from the men - monks, they called themselves, the more he remembered.

He had a name before. He was Marius, Rome was his home when he lived and Hibernia was the land that destroyed him.

He was turned into a God against his will, when he was too weak to fight, only to be turned into a slave, or so they thought. He never bent the knee, never accepted his fate and when they gave him weapons, he turned against his maker - never a Master, for he wouldn’t accept one, and his teachings.

As a man he had loved to travel and learn about new cultures and people. As a vampire, for that was the name of what he was, he traveled for revenge, and at the end of his long wandering he found them.

The sacred parents. Those who must be kept. The King and Queen. In the long millennia of their existence they had many names. Enkil and Akasha were those he used when he offered them his services, only to betray them like they had betrayed countless before Marius came to them.

He stole the core and suddenly what was forced upon him became his choice. Marius, the one who never believed in the ancient Gods of Rome, became a God himself.

Now that blood restored him to life, giving back not only his consciousness but also his mind, Marius knew, looking at the scared boy in front of him, why he woke up.

The blood flowing in his veins called for him, but it was his eyes that put Marius under their spell.

The boy was a believer, but the God he prayed upon was new to Marius, one that he never met before and who he didn’t recognize. One that would have condemned such a beautiful soul to rot in the ground, in the bowel of a decaying church. Such a God was unworthy of him.

Like a new Saturn, Marius stole the boy and with him in his arms he flew away, leaving behind the desolation of a cruel winter in a land harsh and unfit the treasure he was carrying.

“Who - who are you?” The boy in his arms naked in a language Marius didn’t understand, but the sense of those words was clear to him.

Deus tuus sum, et tu Principium Novum meum es.

#de romanus coven event #saturnalia 2024 #marius/arman #marius de romanus #Armand

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