Work Text:
There’s not a single sound coming from inside the room as Armand approaches the door. There hasn’t been any noise in two nights; the banging and pounding at the door stopped three nights ago, the shouts stopped only a couple of hours after that. It’s been completely silent ever since.
The coven had come to him late last night, begging him to release their coven mate and return to him what is his. They have all spent the last five nights in a constant state of worry and fear for him, their focus on their rehearsals minimal as they exchange concerned glances and hushed talk of what had occurred only a few nights ago. Things have never escalated this far before and the coven fear more than ever for the condition of their coven mate. It had taken some convincing but eventually Armand had agreed to their onslaught of pleas, and went to the tower shortly after waking.
And so he finds himself standing before the door of the violinist’s room, items bound carefully in cloth in his hand. He stares at the door for a long moment as he collects his thoughts with a sigh, and reaches into his pocket to pull out the key.
The clunk of the key turning in the lock resounds throughout the passageway, and the door slowly opens into the room. In the shadows of the back corner, sits the figure, silent and unmoving. His knees are drawn up to his chest, his arms tucked up and held tightly to himself, covered in dry, flaky blood. It’s difficult to make out his face as it’s veiled behind masses of tangled curls, which lay in a tousled mess around his shoulders.
It occurs to Armand that he looks like a small child, tucked away in the corner after being reprimanded by their parent.
He takes a step into the room, keeping his eyes on the figure at all times, as if he expects him to jump up and attack him at any second. Nothing of the sort happens however, and as Armand cautiously makes his way over, the figure in the corner continues to sit stock still.
Once he’s in front of him, Armand kneels down and carefully places the bundle on the floor beside him. From this angle, he can just about make out where the light from the passage hits his face from beneath his hair, his eyes though, are hidden from view. Armand reaches out and brushes the hair from his eyes, carefully tucking it behind his ear to keep it out of the way.
“Nicolas.” Armand says in a soft voice.
He doesn’t stir; his eyes, now visible to Armand, stare blankly at the ground, unblinking, unseeing. Armand had expected to see hurt, anger, even sadness in those eyes but they remain unfeeling and distant. It sends a chill through him, normally Nicki sends him cold stares, full of contempt and defiance while he spits some cutting retort, but now he just sits, saying nothing, doing nothing.
Armand raises a hand and places it lightly on Nicki’s knee, hoping to gain some sort of reaction from him but still, he doesn’t move. There’s not even so much as a flicker of acknowledgment from him at the touch.
“Nicolas, it’s Armand. I’ve come to take you back to the theatre, the coven has been asking after you.” Still no response. “Here, I have something of yours to return to you.” Armand moves to take the bundle from off the floor, placing it delicately in his lap before unfolding the cloth.
He picks up one of the hands and holds it up for Nicki to see, as if he’s presenting him with an offering. At first there’s still no reaction from him, then Nicki’s gaze slowly shifts to look at the hand. There’s what seems to be a flicker of recognition in his eyes, but it almost immediately fades so that his expression is as blank as it had been before.
Armand frowns slightly. He’d hoped that in seeing his hand, Nicki would show signs of coming back to himself. Instead, he just stares lifelessly like before, only this time at his severed appendage.
“I’ve been keeping them for you,” Armand says quietly, “I’ve cleaned them and taken great care in looking after them. They’re yours to take back now.”
He studies Nicki’s face carefully, waiting to see if his expression will change in any way. At this point, Armand would welcome a spiteful comment about him keeping ahold of the hands all these nights, but Nicki continues to stare mutely at them, nothing to indicate he’s even heard Armand’s words.
Armand lets out a sigh and places the hand back on the cloth beside the other. When he looks back at Nicki, he finds that his gaze has followed the hand, and is now staring at the pair on his lap. Armand watches him for a moment to see if he’ll do anything else, then moves the hands onto the floor before slowly reaching to take one of Nicki’s arms when he realises he’s otherwise unchanged.
Carefully unfolding Nicki’s arm from his chest, Armand gives it a look over, briefly glancing up at him to see him still staring blankly. He pushes the sleeve of his shirt back, having to peel it from his skin where it’s stuck to the blood. A mass of dried blood coats his arm, where it had been cut at the wrist, and streaks all the way down to his elbow. Armand delicately traces around the bloodied stump before resting it in his lap and moving to take Nicki’s other arm.
Once again, Nicki doesn’t even flinch or make an attempt at pulling away. Armand gives his other arm a quick look over, finding it in the same bloodied state, yet in otherwise good condition, as the other.
“Let’s get you back together and then we can get you all cleaned up.”
Armand takes the right hand and lifts it so that it’s close to Nicki’s right arm, watching as ligaments reach out to reattach the hand. When the hand is connected, the skin knits back together to make it whole again, allowing Armand to let out the breath he’d been holding. He looks up at Nicki and sees that he’s now looking at his right hand, though his expression remains void of any obvious emotion.
“Can you move your fingers?” Armand asks softly, studying Nicki closely while he waits for some kind of response. When he gets nothing, he asks again. “I need you to try and move your fingers, Nicolas. Can you do that?”
Nicki’s fingers flex against Armand’s hand and Armand nods, releasing his hand which Nicki draws back to hold against his chest again, the fingers curling in to make a loose fist. Armand notes that the action seems to be possessive, as if he’s afraid that it’ll be taken from him once more.
Armand goes to say something, to reassure him that he’s not in any danger, but the words escape him and so he stays silent as he picks up the left hand. He does that same as before, holding it to the arm and watches the Blood do its work to reconnect the hand.
“There, isn’t that better.” Armand muses. He lightly traces around Nicki’s wrist where it had previously been cut, admiring how there’s no trace of the hand ever having been severed. “What about with this hand, can you move your fingers?”
Slowly, Nicki flexes them while Armand gives another nod in satisfaction. He lets go of his hand, which Nicki then holds against himself with the other, and shifts back slightly while studying him carefully.
Nicki stares at the ground, as still and as quiet as he’s ever been; whether he hasn’t noticed Armand looking at him or if he simply just doesn’t care is unclear, but based on the way he seems to have curled in on himself, it’s evident to Armand that his presence is acknowledged but not wanted.
He watches Nicki quietly for a bit, half hoping he’ll suddenly whip around and snarl at him to leave him alone. But he remains almost like a statue, ignoring him altogether.
Armand gently nudges into his thoughts, certain that his mental shields will be down and wanting to know if his mind is as comatose as he almost is physically. He’s right in thinking he can gain access, but finds a mass of heavy darkness, weighing him down and suffocating him to an unbearable degree. He pushes through though and catches a glimmer of a memory. It’s hard to make out at first, but then he sees flashes of himself bringing something down that glints in the light. A sickening crunch combined with a piercing cry fills the air, and the strong scent of blood overwhelms Armand’s senses.
He quickly pulls himself out from Nicki’s mind just as a second scream resonates in his ears. While staring at him, Armand twists one of his rings around on his finger, unsure as to what to say to him.
Eventually, he finds the words and speaks in a hushed tone. “I had hoped it would never get as far as this. It wasn’t a decision I made lightly, taking your hands, that is, I hope you realise that.” He pauses. “I took no pleasure in doing what I did, if it could have been avoided then I would have. I only did what I thought was best.”
For a split second, he could swear a subtle look of scorn clouds Nicki’s expression, but it’s gone just as fast as it appeared. Any other time, Armand would feel frustration at his derisive attitude but now though, it gives him some semblance of hope that he’s still in there somewhere.
“The coven wants you back with them. That’s what I’m here for, to bring you back. I think you’ve had enough time in here now. Come on, I’ll wash off that blood before we leave, it should make you more comfortable.”
Armand stands up and looks down at Nicki, who stays curled up on the floor. His hair has slipped back over his ear and covers his face again, hiding him from Armand’s view. Armand sighs and a slight frown comes over his expression, though it’s more out of concern than irritation.
“I promise you’re not in any danger of being hurt. You’re perfectly safe, Nicolas, everything will be alright once you get back to the theatre. They’ve all been missing you and they’ll be glad to see you again.”
He reaches down and puts a hand on his shoulder, resulting in the first proper reaction from him so far; Nicki flinches at the sudden contact, leaning away from the touch and curling in further on himself. Armand draws his hand back, digging his nails into the palm of his hand.
This has never happened before; Nicki has, in the past, been prone to going mute but even then he would often still display anger and contempt towards Armand. The closest thing he’s seen compared to this, up until now, is when Nicki shows signs of confusion; he’ll sit and stare for long periods of time, walk around as though he’s not sure where he’s supposed to be. One time he even managed to slip out of the theatre, only for Armand to find him outside his old flat, the one he used to share with Lestat. It had taken some convincing to bring him back to the theatre that night.
But this is by far the worst state Armand has ever seen Nicki in. The outbursts, the retaliation, the confusion, none of it even remotely compares to this. Never has he become as lost to himself as he is now. It reminds Armand of what he’d heard about him when he was no more than a night old in the Blood, how he was completely mute and would follow Lestat and Gabrielle around like some dark shadow. He recalls how it had been his violin that had brought him out from himself, though it had also triggered him to lash out and turn on the one who he loved most.
Armand recalls having put Nicki’s violin in this room and wonders if it’s still in the same place or not. Looking around, he finds that it’s still on the ledge of the bricked up window, against the bars in its case, right where he left it. He moves over and picks it up, carrying it back over to Nicki and kneeling down beside him, then removes the instrument from its case.
“I have your violin here.” He says gently, and tucks his hair back a second time so Nicki can see as he holds the violin up to him.
Nicki is turned almost so he’s facing the wall, refusing to look at the instrument being offered up to him. Armand lowers it to place back into the case and gingerly reaches out to take Nicki’s hands. He meets some resistance when he tries to gently pry his hands away from where they rest against his chest, and quickly realises Nicki is shaking slightly. It’s not overly visible but Armand can feel the way his hands tremble under his touch, and he keeps them tense to avoid being moved.
Armand sighs and withdraws his hands from Nicki’s. He tries to see if he can meet his gaze but those unseeing eyes remain down-turned and locked to the wall. It seems that he tries to curl in on himself further, though immediately realises he’s as drawn in as he can make himself, as he instead tilts his head down so that the brown curls fall forward, creating a veil between them.
It’s a sorry sight, something that causes Armand unexpected hurt to witness, though he’s unsure whether that hurt is his own or for the fledgling in front of him. Realising he most likely won’t gain much of a reaction from Nicki now, Armand decides it’s time to try and get him out of this room and into his own home at the base of the tower to clean him up.
After closing the violin case, Armand gathers it up along with the cloth and rises to his feet. He gazes down at Nicki and says to him quietly, “Come along, Nicolas, I’ll take you to my residence and get you looking more presentable. I doubt the others would care to see you in such a state.”
He watches him and waits, hoping he’ll move of his own accord. When there’s no sign of movement, Armand shakes his head and lightly touches Nicki’s hair with his fingertips. Nicki flinches and moves to lower his head away from the touch, a tiny whimper escaping him as he does, so quiet Armand could swear he imagined it.
“Everything is going to be just fine, Nicolas.” Armand soothes, as he runs his fingers over his hair. “You don’t want to stay in here any longer do you? It’s cold and dark and lonely, you’d much rather be somewhere more accommodating, I’m sure, surrounded by those who love you. I won’t force you, I want you to come willingly, but I think you’ll regret staying here if that’s what you choose.”
After a few more seconds of stillness, Nicki slowly lifts his head and unfurls himself from his tightly curled up position. Armand takes his hand away from him as Nicki gingerly rises to his feet, looking a bit shaky for a brief moment before steadying himself. He keeps his hands held tightly to his chest and his hair remains hanging down over his face.
Armand nods. “Let’s get you sorted then. Follow me.”
He turns and heads for the door, looking back to make sure he’s being followed. Nicki trails slowly behind him, his head down and seemingly unsure of himself as his feet drag slightly. Armand leads him through the corridor and down the stairs, taking them all the way to the bottom of the tower. The whole way down, Nicki stays close to Armand, almost as if he’s afraid he’ll be left behind if he falls too far back. Armand can practically feel a small hint of anxiety emanating from him and he debates taking a brief look into his mind before thinking better of it.
They descend the stairs in moderate silence, the sound of their footsteps ringing out through the stairwell, accompanied every so often with a sharp intake of breath from Nicki as he misjudges the uneven steps and stumbles a bit.
Eventually, they reach the base of the tower and Armand briefly turns to face Nicki, only to find him still looking down while he hugs his hands to his chest. Armand goes to say something, to reassure him once more that he’s in no danger, but remains quiet when he realises that nothing he says will calm the fledgling’s mind. Instead, he turns his attention back to the door in front of him and leads Nicki out to his residence.
Stopping outside his door, Armand takes out a key and unlocks it, then pushes it open and gestures for Nicki to go inside.
“Go on,” he urges placidly when Nicki remains rooted to the spot, “this isn’t a trap. You’re perfectly safe here, Nicolas.” He motions a second time for him to enter, watching as he ghosts past him after a small hesitation.
Armand steps in after him and closes the door, turning to see Nicki standing a few feet away looking slightly lost. He puts the key back into his pocket and with his free hand, lightly touches Nicki’s back to guide him into the front room.
“Go and sit in that chair by the fireplace, I’ll be with you in a moment.” Armand gently nudges him over to the chair while he sets the violin case and cloth down on a nearby table.
He moves over to light the fire, then brings a small table closer, with everything he needs to tend to Nicki laid on top. Armand had prepared everything in advance before going into the tower, so he could get straight into caring for him. After pulling an ottoman closer for him to sit on, he finally takes the first proper look at Nicki now he has better lighting.
Nicki sits facing the fire, his gaze held firmly to the flames with his hands still held protectively to himself. His expression is blank, void of anything that might serve as an indication as to what he’s thinking; aside from the subtle trembling which afflicts his body, he’s almost statuesque in the way he sits unmoving. This unnerves Armand somewhat, not often used to seeing him so empty. He wonders what it is about this time in particular that’s caused such a huge shift in Nicki’s behaviour. Perhaps this was simply his final straw, after everything over the last decade, this is what’s well and truly broken him. One thing after another, each weighing down more heavily in his mind, until this last thing which has left him in fragmented pieces.
Although it seems wrong in a way, to disturb him while he sits so still, Armand knows he must be tended to before they return to the theatre. Sitting on the edge of the ottoman, Armand leans forward and motions to the bloodied shirt hanging from Nicki’s body.
“You can’t stay in that.” Armand tells him. “I’ve brought some of your clothes from the theatre for you to change into, but I need to clean the blood off you first.”
As expected, there’s no response; Nicki continues to stare silently into the flames. Armand reaches out and takes his hands to move them away from his chest. Like before in the tower, without even looking in Armand’s direction, Nicki tries to resist him and keep his hands clutched to himself.
Armand keeps his hold on him and says, “I’m not going to harm you, there’s no risk to you here, but I need you to move them away or I won’t be able to help you. Let me do this and then I’ll leave you be.”
He tries again to pry Nicki’s hands away from where he hugs them to his body, and finds that he’s relented, allowing him to carefully pull them down and settle them in Nicki’s lap. Armand then takes the hem of his shirt and pulls it up over his head, manoeuvring his arms through the sleeves before resting his hands back in his lap. The shirt is put unceremoniously to one side on the floor, leaving Nicki in only his breeches and stockings, both of which are dirtied and spattered in blood. Then Armand moves to take a clean cloth from the table beside him and wets it in the bowl of water he prepared.
He takes Nicki’s right hand and starts to gently clean the blood from around his wrist and down the length of his arm. It comes off in dried flakes, some of it clinging to the cloth while the rest falls away onto Nicki’s breeches. Not once does Nicki attempt to pull away, nor does he even seem to acknowledge what Armand is doing; he simply gazes off, eyes focused on nothing in particular.
Armand continues to delicately hold his hand as he wipes the dried blood away, Nicki’s fingers resting limply against his palm, allowing him this simple touch. Soon enough, his right arm is clean of blood, though it glistens in the firelight from the water. Armand drapes the wet cloth over the edge of the bowl and picks up another clean cloth, using it to dry off Nicki’s arm before returning it to the table.
He takes the wet cloth again and dips it back into the water, the blood that had been clinging to it coming off and swirling around in the bowl. Taking Nicki’s left hand, Armand washes off his arm and watches as the skin, dull from the lack of blood, is gradually revealed from beneath the mass of red. Like before, there’s no resistance or seeming unwillingness to allow this simple gesture to happen; Nicki remains still and quiet as he’s seen to, not even appearing relieved at the feeling of being clean for the first time in a week.
When Armand has finished his task, he puts the wet cloth back over the edge of the bowl and uses the second one to lightly dry Nicki’s arm. His left hand is placed back on his lap as Armand reaches to take the clean shirt from the pile of clothes on the table.
It’s not until now that he’s really taken the time to really look him over. Five nights of no sustenance is rather telling with a vampire so young; Nicki looks frail and small, his bones more prominent than usual as they jut out from under his fragile, thin looking skin. Armand makes a mental note to find him a victim before they return to the theatre, but for now his priority is readying him to even leave this house.
Armand unfolds the shirt and looks at Nicki. “You’re going to need to work with me for this, can you do that?” In response to his question, Nicki slowly drags his gaze from the fire and settles on Armand, dipping his head slightly before looking back up again as if nodding. Armand accepts this as an answer and shifts to pull the shirt down over his head, letting Nicki put his arms through the sleeves himself.
He then takes a waistcoat from the table, deep green in colour with gold embroidery, one of Nicki’s best ones. “Stand up.” Armand rises from his own seat as he says this, holding the waistcoat ready to help Nicki into.
Nicki looks up at him and blinks, catlike in its slowness, then stands up and holds his arms out as needed for Armand to put the waistcoat on. Armand buttons it up and gives it an approving look, satisfied with how everything is coming together. Then he waves a hand at Nicki’s lower half as he turns to the table again.
“You’ll need to change those too.” He says, referring to Nicki’s stockings and breeches. “I trust you’re able to do this bit yourself.” Armand glances at him as he picks up a pair of pristine white stockings.
Without any further prompting, Nicki takes off his shoes and removes his dirtied clothing, tossing them on the floor where they join his bloody shirt. Armand wordlessly hands him the stockings to put on, while he busies himself with getting the breeches ready. He turns and gives them to Nicki once the stockings are on, his eyes quickly flicking down and back up again out of some base instinct.
“There, you’re looking better already.” Armand says when Nicki is fully dressed, moving closer to make sure his shirt is tucked away and everything is tidy. “I have another pair of your shoes here too, those ones are in need of a clean.” He points to the discarded shoes on the floor before retrieving a second pair which he places at Nicki’s feet for him to put on.
Armand takes a moment to look him over, tilting his head to the side as he examines him. Nicki stands with his hands clasped together in front of his stomach, looking like a child waiting to be told he’s adequately prepared for the night ahead. After some contemplation, Armand narrows his eyes at something and looks back to the table, sliding the bowl to one side to find the cravat which had been hidden from view.
“We almost forgot this.” Armand speaks more to himself than to Nicki, plucking it from where it partially lies behind the bowl and placing it around Nicki’s neck. He carefully ties it and adjusts it as he sees fit, then shifts his gaze to look up at him. It nearly catches him off guard to see Nicki watching him closely, his eyes now soulful and focused entirely on him.
Armand swallows and takes a step back, concealing any surprise that might have shown in his expression. Nicki’s eyes follow him intently, something akin to curiosity underlying the newly surfaced melancholy in his gaze. A lock of hair slips over one eye with a small movement of his head, catching Armand’s attention and causing him to return to the task at hand.
“Take a seat, we’re not finished yet.” He urges Nicki to sit down in his own previous spot on the ottoman. Nicki keenly regards him for a bit longer before complying and sits with his back to him.
Pushing his thoughts aside before he can dwell on them, Armand stands behind him and lifts his hands to the unruly curls in front of him. He takes a section of Nicki’s hair and begins to gently run his fingers through the strands, taking great care in detangling any particularly mussed curls. With any of the more stubborn knots, he resorts to a comb to delicately work them out before going back to using his fingers. When the first section is complete, he takes another chunk of hair to work through, only ever using the comb for the bigger tangles. He continues this in silence, until he’s detangled every curl and finds that by the end, Nicki appears to be less tense than he was previously. Using his fingers to pass through his hair a few more times for good measure, Armand then gathers it all back and ties it with a black ribbon.
He comes around to face Nicki and motions for him to stand again. Their eyes meet for a split second and then Armand shifts his focus to evaluate his work, checking for anything that might need fixing in some way.
“You could almost pass for a man now.” He could be mistaken for sounding vaguely amused, though his expression remains neutral as he gives his verdict. “There’s just one more thing.” Armand slips past Nicki and heads for the divan on the opposite side of the room, ignoring the way he can feel that woeful gaze searing into his back as it follows him.
Armand picks up the frock coat he’d draped over the furniture earlier, and carries it back over to its rightful owner. Its deep green colour matches that of the waistcoat, even down to the gold threaded accents, clothing that had been made especially for Nicki for his role as the theatre’s conductor and most beloved violinist, only ever brought out to wear for finer occasions.
The coat is held open for Nicki to put on, fitting him to perfection as intended. He looks noble, no longer the wild, blood-stained prisoner, as he stands there in his finery. Something about him seems so old, a glint of something in his eye, someone who has seen so much and lived so many lives. And yet there’s no escaping how his face is so young, nearly boyish, too young to have endured everything life has thrown at him. He’s nothing more than a child, a blink in the eye of someone such as Armand.
It could break Armand’s heart if he allowed it but instead he simply nods his approval and softly says, “I think it’s about time you rejoined the others.” A flash of longing on Nicki’s face. “But first you need to feed. We’ll stop on the way there and find you a victim.”
Thinking it best not to waste any time, Armand goes over to the side table where the violin case sits and picks it up, looking at it for a moment before turning back to Nicki. He beckons him over, holding out the case for him to take when he reaches him. Nicki glances down at it, then looks back at Armand with a vaguely cautious expression.
“It’s yours to take, though it has been available to you all this time.” Armand remarks patiently, despite knowing the last part is unfair to say, given the previous circumstance in which the instrument had been available. “Take it.”
With some hesitation, Nicki reaches out and lets Armand hand it over, though at first he holds it delicately as if he’s afraid something bad will occur if he’s too rough with it. Armand doesn’t question it and heads for the door, motioning for Nicki to follow.
Together, they exit the house where Armand leads him to his awaiting carriage, opening the door for him to get in, then swiftly follows after giving the driver his instructions. Once he’s settled inside, he looks at Nicki and sees him no longer holding his violin case like it’s a dainty piece of glass. Instead, he hugs it to his body, nearly as protective of it as he had been with his hands not too long ago. Nicki’s large brown eyes flit around the carriage before landing on Armand, regarding him quickly, then shifting his gaze to look out the window as they set off.
Armand keeps his eyes on him for a while, studying him, observing the way he stares at the passing world like he’s never seen it all before. In this moment, Nicki looks so very young, every bit his mortal age, possibly even younger. It makes Armand feel more responsible for him than he’s sure he’s ever felt; for the past ten years, this child has been under his care, his protection, and in that time he’s done everything he thought best to look after him. Although Nicki was made by another, he feels more Armand’s own fledgling than anyone else’s. After all, who else has been there to keep him in line, see him through his first years in the Blood, love him so totally while feeling nothing but despair all the same?
For the rest of the trip, Nicki doesn’t so much as acknowledge Armand’s presence, despite sitting opposite him. His gaze remains fixed to the window as he watches the world go by, his violin still clutched tightly to himself.
After some time, Armand tears his eyes from him and turns to look out of the opposite window. He lets the silence sit between them, more from a lack of anything to say than from wanting to disturb the peace. Every so often, he glances back over to see Nicki still watching the countryside fall away to the city.
It doesn’t take too long after entering Paris for Armand to catch sight of a lone man, swaying just a bit as he walks along the riverfront. He stops the carriage and turns to Nicki, his voice coming out softly as he speaks.
“We’ll get out here, Nicolas, for you to feed.”
He doesn’t seem to be heard, so reaches over and lightly puts a hand on his knee. Nicki’s eyes dart from the window to him, looking vaguely startled and then relaxing somewhat after a second when he sees the familiar face. Armand wonders if he’d forgotten his presence in his deep reverie, something that, while troubling, is entirely possible given Nicki’s current state of mind.
“You can leave the violin in here, it will be safe.” Armand signals for him to set the case down on the seat and follow him out onto the street. He steps out and holds the door for Nicki to exit behind him, watching as he reluctantly leaves the violin and glances back at it as if parting from it is truly unbearable. “It’s not going anywhere.” Armand tells him, shutting the door as he emerges from the carriage.
With a small gesture for Nicki to follow, Armand starts walking in the direction of the man a little way ahead, making sure to keep a reasonable distance so as not to be noticed. Just as his target is coming up to a side street, Armand quickly surveys the area and darts ahead to pull the man aside and disable him, crushing his windpipe to prevent him from screaming out and breaking both legs.
While kneeling on the ground with one hand on his victim, Armand looks up to see Nicki lingering on the corner of the side street, eyeing up the injured man with a predatory gaze.
“Come over here, Nicolas.” Armand beckons him over with one hand still on the man. “He’s all yours.” He ignores the way the victim’s eyes widen in panic and how he starts to struggle weakly from under him. Armand’s gaze stays fixed to Nicki, watching him creep closer until he’s right beside him.
“That’s it,” Armand says as Nicki kneels down, “he’s not going to escape.” He uses a nail to make a slit in the man’s throat. “You can have him, just be careful, I don’t want you wasting anything.”
Armand lets Nicki take his victim into his arms and rises to his feet, standing back a bit to give him some room. To his mild surprise, Nicki appears to listen to him and carefully works the wound open with his fangs, lapping at the blood that trickles out until there’s a strong enough flow for him to drink properly. He’s mindful not to create a mess as he feeds, even keeping his hold on his victim just tight enough to keep him still but not so firm as to crush him entirely.
There’s an obvious physical change in him as he drinks; Armand notices the way Nicki’s skin becomes less dull and fragile looking and he gains some colour in his face, making him appear more human.
With his cautious approach to his feeding, it takes Nicki a bit longer than is typical for him to drain the man completely. When he finally pulls away, he stares blankly ahead while still holding the now lifeless body in his arms. Armand steps forward and crouches down beside him, slowly reaching out to take the body from him. Nicki suddenly snaps his attention to him and lets out a low warning sound from deep in his throat, tightening his arms around the body as if trying to shield it from Armand.
Armand is unfazed however and speaks calmly to him. “It’s only me, Nicolas. There’s no need to be protective over him, it’s already done. He’s not yours anymore, you’ve had him, now give him to me so I can deal with this correctly. That’s it, let go of him. There we go, wait here and then we can go back to the theatre.”
Despite still making the same noise in warning, Nicki relents and loosens his grip on the body, letting Armand take it from him. Armand carries it over to the river and dumps it in before going back to the side street to find Nicki still kneeling on the ground. He goes over to him and ensures he has Nicki’s attention before stooping down to press a light kiss to his forehead.
“You did very well.” Armand straightens again and looks down at him. “It’s time to go now though, up you get.”
In the short amount of time he was gone for, he already seems to have been forgiven for taking Nicki’s victim, or at the very least, it’s already forgotten as those big eyes blink up at him lazily, the low noise from before now silenced.
Armand tells him again to get up and he does, then trails behind him back to the carriage for the rest of the way to the theatre. Like before, Armand sits opposite him and glances every so often at the way he hugs the violin to himself, his focus set entirely on the window once more.
After a short ride, they end up at the theatre where Armand wastes no time in getting them out of the carriage and into the building. He knows the coven have nearly finished with tonight’s performance, and so he leads Nicki along the alley and through the stage door, where they end up backstage. There, they can hear the final act drawing to a close.
“They’ll be pleased to see you again.” Armand glances at Nicki, noticing how he stares in the direction of the stage. It seems he’s listening to the play and Armand wonders if Nicki recognises his own words being spoken aloud to an entire audience.
They remain where they are for the last few minutes of the performance, Armand studying Nicki quietly as he continues to listen to the finale of the act with a solemn expression. After the last line is spoken, there’s a moment of complete silence, then the sound of hundreds of people clapping fills the air. The sudden sound startles Nicki and he hugs his violin tighter, as though he’s forgotten the customary applause at the end of a performance, yet he keeps his eyes glued to where the stage is a little further along.
The sound of footsteps accompanied by many voices soon make their way towards them from the stage. Nicki’s gaze flickers from the voices to Armand and back to the approaching group. Then the first few vampires appear, still chatting amongst themselves, until they realise the presence of two others and their conversation falters.
Felix, who is one of the first to notice, offers Nicki a small smile and simply says, “You’re back. It’s good to see you again.”
Nicki looks around as the rest of the troupe filter in from the stage. They too, notice his presence almost immediately and gather around to greet him with smiles and soft voices telling him how happy they are that he’s back, and how much they’ve missed him. They’re mindful not to crowd him too much though, knowing he doesn’t tolerate even the smallest touches from them at the best of times, and sensing his current uncertainty, they don’t want to risk overwhelming him.
While the coven welcomes Nicki back, Armand stands close by and keeps a watchful eye on him, searching for any signs that he might need to make the group back off. As it is though, Nicki seems to be handling himself well with all the attention; he stands silent as he’s been all night so far, though with a new level of confidence which masks his ever present apprehension.
Just then, through the group, comes someone who has yet to greet their sorely missed coven mate. Eleni comes to the front and stops a few feet away from him, her gaze meeting Armand’s for a moment, then shifts back to Nicki.
“Welcome back, Nicolas.” She gives him a gentle smile.
He studies her and Armand can practically see his brain working to figure out whether or not she’s someone to trust. Eleni waits patiently, evidently coming to a similar understanding. The rest of the coven have either departed, giving them their space after having said their greetings, or are lingering nearby as they wait to see what will happen.
Nicki narrows his eyes at Eleni, taking his time to suss her out, though Armand has a feeling he’s getting close to his answer. Then Nicki’s face softens with recognition, his body relaxing like he’s let out a deep breath.
With a look of relief, Eleni moves forward so that she’s directly in front of Nicki and lightly puts her hands on his arms. He gazes down at her sorrowfully, a loose curl falling in front of his eye from where it’s too short to be tied back. Eleni reaches up and gently pushes it back, her hand then moving to rest against his cheek, making him lean into the touch with closed eyes.
“You’ve fed, that’s good.” Eleni states, skipping all the typical greetings as if it hasn’t been five whole nights since she last saw him. “I’m glad to see you kept it tidy this time, they were properly disposed of, I should hope.”
“I saw to it myself.” Armand chimes in quietly. “I took him out to feed before we arrived here.”
Eleni glances at him and nods. “That’s good.” She says again. “How many?”
“Just the one.”
“Only one? He needs more than that to get his full strength back, Armand. It’s been nearly a full week since he last fed.” Still looking at Armand, takes her hand from Nicki’s cheek, placing it back on his arm and rubbing gently, as though reassuring him of her presence. He opens his eyes again, his attention on her like no one else is there.
“There was only one person around, Eleni,” Armand responds in a placating tone, “and I wanted to bring him back here sooner rather than later. It’ll be enough for now anyway, he can go out again tomorrow perhaps.”
Eleni shakes her head. “He will feed again tomorrow, even if one of us has to let him feed from ourselves. It’s not good for him to go so long without sustenance.”
“So be it,” Armand waves a hand, “you can manage that yourself since you’re so keen.”
Eleni just throws him an acknowledging look and returns her attention to Nicki, smiling at him when she sees he’s still focused entirely on her. “Come with me, let’s get you settled back in and away from all the backstage commotion.” She guides him to the door leading down to their rooms, talking to him softly about the goings on at the theatre since he’s been gone.
Armand is left alone and decides to leave Nicki in Eleni’s capable hands for the remainder of the night. He stays at the theatre until a couple of hours before dawn, sorting through the theatre’s accounts and responding to a few letters. When it comes time for him to return to his home, he doesn’t bother checking in on Nicki, coming to the conclusion that if he was needed for anything, he would have been alerted by now.
~
Several nights pass and no change occurs in Nicki. He remains as silent as ever and becomes even more unresponsive. The coven take it in turns feeding for two, so that he may feed from them instead of being made to go out and hunt. Despite their best efforts, Nicki seemingly has no appetite to feed and refuses any blood offered to him; in the past when he’s been too stubborn to accept blood from others, it takes a couple of them to hold him down while someone else forces it down his throat. But evidently over the last few nights, no one has had the heart to force anything on the pensive fledgling. It leaves everyone feeling troubled, knowing how unlike Nicki it is to deny blood.
He’s eventually left alone by the others, as they hope that maybe by leaving him be, he might start to come back to himself. Nicki remains shut away in his room, never leaving or disturbed by others. It fills the coven with concern, wondering what, if anything, he’s doing in there and how much longer it will go on for.
After nearly an entire week of Nicki’s prolonged silence, Armand is visited in his office by Eleni coming to voice the worries of the coven.
“He’s a shell of himself, more so than he’s ever been in the past. I think he’s well and truly broken this time.” She stands before his desk with a frown on her face, looking at him as if expecting him to do something about the situation.
Armand shakes his head. “He just needs time. You know this isn’t the first time this has happened, he’s been prone to going mute and secluding himself before but he comes back eventually.” Though even as he speaks, Armand doesn’t feel too sure himself.
“It isn’t like all the other times, this feels different.” Eleni says quietly. “I don’t know what’s changed but he’s not the same Nicolas who left this theatre two weeks ago.”
Armand opens his mouth to respond, hoping he will sound more certain than he feels, but he’s interrupted by a sudden presence in the doorway.
“I need to speak to the coven.” Comes the voice, small and hoarse from disuse.
Both Armand and Eleni whip around to face the door, only to see Nicki supporting himself with one hand on the doorframe, clearly weakened from the lack of blood. He looks utterly dishevelled, still wearing the same clothing Armand had dressed him in a week prior, though it’s rumpled from being worn for so long. The bow in his hair is loose, allowing for some of the curls to spill over his shoulders and hang in front of his face. If it weren’t for the sun forcing him down every morning, Armand would assume he’d also gotten little to no sleep with his gaze seeming unfocused and tired.
“Nicolas!” Eleni rushes over to him and goes to hold him up, fearing he could collapse in his weakened state. He doesn’t push her away, though he also doesn’t acknowledge her as he tries to focus his gaze on Armand.
“I need to speak to the coven.” He says again, half leaning against Eleni while also attempting to keep himself up.
“Why do you need to?” Armand remains seated at his desk, studying Nicki closely.
“I have to talk to them, there’s something I need to tell them.”
“Yes, so I’ve gathered. What is it you wish to say to them?”
Nicki’s face twists into a grimace and he flicks a hand dismissively at Armand. “Just get everyone together, it can’t wait.”
Armand exchanges a glance with Eleni, who gives him a confused look in return. He glances back at Nicki and stares at him for a moment, contemplating whether or not to comply with his demand. After some careful consideration, he rises to his feet, his gaze meeting Nicki’s in a calm manner.
“We’ll meet in the auditorium in ten minutes.” Armand watches as Nicki relaxes, relieved at the answer, though his expression stays grim and his eyes drop to the ground.
Armand moves around the desk and walks up to Eleni. As he slips past her into the hallway, he whispers, “Stay with him and don’t let him out of your sight.”
Without waiting for a response or turning back to look at either of them, Armand makes his way down the hall and stops outside Laurent’s dressing room when he sees him inside, not hesitating to wait for his attention first before speaking.
“Go to the auditorium, tell anyone else you come across to be there in ten minutes.”
Laurent whirls around at the sound of his voice. “Why, is there something wrong? Is it about Nicolas?”
“Just go.” Armand tells him firmly and continues down the hallway without another word. He gives the few other vampires he comes across the same instruction, while making his own way to the auditorium.
Within minutes, he and the rest of the coven are all gathered, some sitting down while others stand around in the aisle or by the stage, murmuring amongst themselves as they speculate the reason for them being here. Armand stands on stage near the wings, waiting for Eleni and Nicki to show up.
It only takes another minute or two for the pair to appear, the talk in the room dying down when they walk out onto the stage. Eleni seems to have tidied Nicki’s appearance, no longer looking so dishevelled with his clothing smoothed out and his hair pulled back into a neat bow once more. Armand takes note of how Nicki is now standing without Eleni’s support, though she hovers by him closely just in case. It’s clearly an act Nicki’s putting on, wearing the mask of someone who is more than competent and in no need of any aid, but Armand can see his exhaustion regardless, can see how the last two weeks are taking their toll on him.
With each vampire in the room now attentive to the stage, Armand steps over to the front and surveys the room before speaking. “I know you’re all wondering why you’ve been gathered here. As you have noticed, Nicolas has returned to us after his solitude and has something he wishes to tell you. He’s made it clear enough that this is something of importance so I expect you all to let him speak before hounding him with whatever questions you may have.”
Armand casts his eyes over the troupe once more, then moves to one side so that Nicki can take his place. As Nicki walks to the front of the stage to face the room, Armand meets Eleni’s eye with a cautious stare before turning his attention back to Nicki.
The coven all look up at him, waiting to see what he has to say, some of them glance at either Armand or Eleni with a level of uncertainty.
“I’m aware I’ve had you all brought here on rather short notice,” Nicki starts, looking at each of the vampires as he speaks, “but what I have to tell you is too important and it can’t wait any longer. For the last several nights, I have been writing up an extensive stack of plays, all of which are in my room and yours to take, ready to be performed in this very theatre. Along with the many others that have been stashed away for future use, you have enough to last years to come, should this establishment continue.” Nicki ignores the confused glances exchanged and continues. “I have also made a note of who will take over as director, composer and playwright respectively. I would rather you keep to my requests for each, as I have spent enough time going over each option as to who I think is the best fit for each role, though if there are any disagreements, I trust you can decide amongst yourselves who the new candidates should be.”
Whispers fill the room as everyone tries to make sense of what Nicki is saying. On the stage behind him, Eleni shoots Armand a panicked look, her eyes telling him to put a stop to whatever Nicki is saying. But Armand, although equally as confused as everyone else, makes a small gesture for her to settle, wanting to let Nicki finish with whatever he’s telling them.
Nicki regards the coven calmly and carries on despite their lack of certainty. “As for my flat on the Île Saint-Louis, it’s all taken care of so there’s no need to trouble yourselves with what to do about it. Everything is in order, I’ve made sure of it. The only thing you need to concern yourselves with, is this theatre, though I’m sure you’ve all got the hang of it by now. You don’t need me holding your hands through the mortal world anymore.”
Felix jumps up from where he’s sitting in the front row. “What are you talking about, Nicolas? What does all of this mean?”
Another coven member, Charlotte, speaks up in an anxious tone. “This isn’t making any sense, why would we need new candidates for your roles?”
“You’re not leaving us are you?” Eugenie asks suddenly.
They all fall quiet again, everyone’s focus glued to Nicki, who gives them a wry smile. “I suppose I am, in a sense.”
“Nicolas, explain yourself at once.” Armand’s tone leaves no room for argument and he fixes him with a harsh stare.
Nicki slowly turns to face him, that wry smile still gracing his features. “I want you to call together something of a Sabbat, in the countryside should suffice. I want a pyre, nothing overly extravagant mind you, just big enough to get the job done. And if it’s alright with you, I would ask that this takes place tomorrow, I don’t see much point in holding it off any longer.”
The blood in Armand’s veins runs cold as he processes what Nicki has just told him. The room suddenly fills with the clamouring of many voices, though they all merge into one cacophonous noise.
At this point, Nicki turns his attention back to the room and raises his voice to be heard above the shouts. “By all means, you’re all more than welcome to ignore my wishes. I won’t blame you if you do, just know that if you’re unwilling to give me what I want, then I will make this theatre my funeral pyre.”
The noise has died down again and all eyes are fixed to Nicki in horror. Then Laurent’s voice rings out through the room.
“Nicolas, please, this is madness! You can’t possibly mean to end yourself!”
“But I do.” Nicki suddenly sounds more calm than he has all night. “I’ve thought this through and it’s the only conclusion that makes sense.”
“The conclusion to what? What could possibly be so bad that it drives you to such an end?” Felix exclaims, still on his feet.
Nicki turns to him and his expression flashes from disdain to deep sorrow in a matter of seconds. “You would ask me such a question?” His voice is quiet, solemn. “You, who has been here since the very beginning. You, who knows better than most here what it is I’ve suffered, by the hands of those meant to protect me. I have died again and again, so many deaths in so little time.” His eyes grow distant, no longer looking at Felix, but at someone who isn’t there. “I had a life once, I was going to be happy. We were going to live forever, just us and no one else. And then it was gone and we were gone. Everything’s gone.”
His voice is barely above a whisper by the time he stops, his eyes still vacant and focused on nothing. Armand could swear those eyes are rimmed in red but before he can look close enough to be sure, Eleni steps forward and puts a hand on Nicki’s arm, bringing him back into the present and making him blink away any tears that may have been in his eyes.
“Surely this isn’t the only conclusion. There must be something we can do.” Eleni implores him.
Nicki appears disoriented for a few seconds and looks around himself before finding her. For a moment, he seems to smile sadly at her, then it melts away so he’s left with a mask of despair. He puts a hand over hers and looks back to the coven.
“It’s as I’ve said, I have given it much thought and this is the path that seems right for me. All roads lead to this, everywhere I turn to, there’s only more darkness. My light is gone, abandoned me years ago, I can’t see. I can’t suffer this any longer, I’m so tired.” Nicki’s voice is so small, nearly childlike in its broken tone.
Eleni puts her arm around him, her other hand still on his arm under his own hand, and rests her head on his shoulder mournfully. The rest of the group share sorrowful looks, some of them even looking to Armand as if expecting him to change Nicki’s mind somehow.
Armand stares at Nicki, his brain scrambling to catch up with everything. He knows that being the coven leader, everything rests on his shoulders. Either he can permit this awful request or risk losing the entire theatre and possibly the coven with it; the possibility is something all too familiar to him, something he’s experienced in more ways than one and has told himself he wouldn’t let happen again. The choice is between this fledgling they all adore, or everyone all at once. Regardless of what he chooses, the coven will be missing at least one member by the end of tomorrow night.
“There’s nothing any of us can say to you.” Armand says softly. It’s not a question, he already knows the answer.
Without looking at him, Nicki shakes his head.
Armand lets out a breath. Still with a soft, yet solemn voice, he says, “Tomorrow night, in the countryside, you will have the Sabbat you long for.”
A hushed chorus of protests ripple through the coven. Armand hears a few different voices call his name in objection but he simply raises a hand to silence them. He knows their pain at his decision but he also knows this isn’t about them. For once, he’s giving Nicki what he wants and no amount of outcry against that will sway him, even if he secretly wants it to.
“We will give you this, Nicolas, your final wish.”
~
The next night comes around all too quickly. Soon after he’d granted Nicki’s request the previous night, and with a heavy heart, Armand had ordered for a small group to go out into the country and find somewhere for them to build the pyre. They had done so with great hesitation and some argument, but eventually came back saying they had found a suitable place away from the city.
The pyre had started construction as soon as was possible, ready for tonight. Now, the coven is preparing to leave, the theatre closed for the night with five carriages waiting outside. Armand moves through the corridors, ensuring everyone is nearly ready. He comes out into the auditorium and sees a figure standing in the darkened aisle, staring up at the stage. Keeping a small distance between them, Armand stands and observes for a quiet moment from behind.
“You’ll be glad to be rid of me finally, I’m sure.”
“Of course not.” Armand responds softly.
Nicki makes a noise, a short self-deprecating laugh, though he doesn’t turn to face him. “My mistake, you’ll miss seeing me suffer too much to want me gone so badly. I suppose it’s understandable, I’ve only ever been good for my misery, even my own father couldn’t stand to see me happy.”
“I’ve never found any joy in seeing you suffer, Nicolas. I only ever did what I did to–”
“–to keep me and the coven safe, I know. You were just doing what you always thought was best. You’ve told me as much time and time again, the reminder really isn’t necessary, Armand.”
“So you understand then, that I didn’t do it all for my own entertainment.”
“I understand the pain, the hell I’ve endured night after night at your hands.” Nicki tenses and he seems to curl in on himself where he stands. When he speaks again, it’s in a hushed voice with his head now turned to the side as if to face Armand. “Perhaps you were just trying, maybe you didn’t take pride in any of it. The outcome was always the same either way though, I’ve still lost ten years to your torture.”
Armand stays silent.
“And now you grant me this, my dying wish.” Nicki wears a grim smile. “It wasn’t so difficult to give me what I want, when what I want means you no longer have to watch over me. You only did it because it’s what he wanted and even then he would have had me destroyed, if only his heart didn’t bleed for me. Don’t try to deny it, I knew him too well, just like I know you now. What do you think he would say if he were here now, knowing that you have permitted my end.”
“I’m merely giving you the grace of your freedom.” Armand says quietly.
“My freedom.” Nicki finally turns fully to look at him. There’s a glassy red tint over his eyes and a sad smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “It’s been a long time coming, hasn’t it. Better late than never, I suppose.”
Armand opens his mouth to reply but finds that he has nothing to say. He’s saved though, by Eugenie entering the room from behind him.
“Everything is ready, we’re just waiting for you now.” She looks at Armand as she speaks, who nods in acknowledgment. Just before she leaves again, Eugenie tries to give Nicki a slight smile, but fails and quickly exits the room to join the others.
When Armand turns his attention back to Nicki, he finds that his smile has gone and is replaced with a melancholy gaze.
“It’s not too late to change your mind.” Armand says, though he knows how tonight will end.
A tiny smile threatens to reappear on Nicki’s face. “Don’t turn soft on me now, it doesn’t suit you.” He picks something up from the seat beside him and brushes past Armand without another word.
Armand stands in the middle of the aisle after he leaves, staring at the space where Nicki had just been. Pulling himself out from his reverie, he turns and makes his way outside, the rest of the coven already in the carriages waiting to leave. After climbing into his own one, they set off through Paris and are taken as far as the road will go.
At one point during the journey, Armand briefly contemplates whether this is the right decision, but quickly reassures himself that to do anything different, would cause much more suffering than by allowing it to happen. It would feel cruel almost, to have denied Nicki of this.
The entire carriage ride seems to drag on forever, making it feel as if they will never reach the countryside. A small part of Armand wishes they never would, though the anticipation of knowing they will eats away at his mind. He isn’t sure whether he’s grateful or not, that he’s alone in this carriage; it seems to prolong the inevitable without having someone to distract him, and yet having someone with him would only serve as a reminder as to why they’re going in the first place.
After a too long being left alone with his thoughts, Armand feels the carriage come to a stop. He takes a breath, his heart beating hard against his ribs, and steps out to join the others. They take a short walk through some fields before they reach the pyre; Armand allows the group to go on ahead while he trails behind, keeping up the appearance of the coven master watching over his coven from the back.
The pyre comes into view a few minutes later, a dreadful sight despite it sitting there unlit and unassuming. The coven have dressed in their costumes for the theatre as a macabre tribute to their beloved playwright’s work; they gather around the pyre to form a wide circle, Armand standing back to watch from a short distance away. The pyre is lit, setting the field in a burning glow and casting the vampires into silhouette’s, with their shadows long and dark against the grass.
Nicki stands a little in front of the vampires circling around the fire, staring deeply into the flames as he clutches something to his chest. The other four original members, those who have been here since the days of the old coven, stand beside each other, directly behind Nicki, with Armand just behind them.
An ancient rite from the cult is started by Felix, his voice rising up through the air with the smoke and the embers from the flames. He’s soon joined by the voices of the others, over a dozen vampires all chanting as one and creating a harmonious yet chilling sound. As they recite the rites, Nicki turns to face Eleni and she falls silent to give him her full attention. Over the sound of the other vampires, Armand hears him speak softly to her.
“We should have done it on the boulevard.” Nicki tells her, with the tiniest hint of amusement in his tone.
Eleni lifts her hands to his face and touches their foreheads together, whispering something to him too quiet for Armand to hear. Nicki pulls away slowly and says something back, then lowers the object he holds to his chest, holding it out for Eleni to take.
“But here, send this on to my maker.” He puts his violin into her hands and takes a step back, looking from her to Felix, then to Eugenie and finally to Laurent. The four of them bow their heads in a gesture of respect and as they do, Nicki steps back towards the pyre.
Just before he turns, he catches Armand’s eye and stares at him for several long seconds, then his lips curl up into a smile. For the first time Armand can recall, Nicki looks at peace; there’s still a shadow of sorrow covering his eyes, but that resentful glint is gone and he seems less tired all of a sudden. A calmness has come over him in his final moment, to the point where Armand nearly forces him to stop, to not go through with this. But he doesn’t. Instead, he stares back at Nicki before lowering his head in farewell.
When he looks up again, Nicki has already turned back towards the pyre and disappears into flames. Armand looks on with blurred vision as the coven leap into their customary dance, moving in an entirely inhuman manner as they twist in the air and jump around the fire. Their voices ring out through the field with their cries and chants, giving their violinist a meaningful send-off. The embers fall around them and the smoke weaves in between the twirling bodies, making the whole spectacle seem almost beautiful.
Even after they cease the rites and their dance, they wait for the fire to burn out so they can scatter the ashes. Armand comes forward to take the last of them, letting them blow away in the gentle breeze that sweeps through the field, watching them drift off into the night. When he turns back to the group, he’s met with mournful faces, some of which are streaked in blood.
“It will be dawn soon,” he tells them, his voice low, “we’ll come back tomorrow and give him a headstone of some kind. We owe him something to remember him by, but for now we need to return to the theatre.”
He receives a series of nods and they slowly turn to head back to the carriages. Eleni, Felix, Laurent and Eugenie remain where they are and Armand goes to them, looking at them with a bitter expression.
“You gave him a good farewell.” They gaze at him sorrowfully and Eleni hugs the violin tightly. “He will be missed, I know how much he meant to you all.”
“And to you.” Laurent says, barely above a whisper. “We all know you loved him too.”
Armand regards him for a second then moves past him to follow the others to the carriages. He hears them walk closely behind him, no one saying a word as they make their way through the fields. When they reach the road, Armand climbs back into his own carriage and leaves the others to take a separate one.
While the rest of the coven head back to the theatre, Armand diverts and goes straight to his residence by the tower. He enters without a sound, going into the front room without even thinking. Up until now, he’s done nothing more than sit with the image of the pyre burning hot against the night sky, seemingly void of emotion. Then something catches his eye on the floor beside the chair that sits before the fireplace; the same chair he’d sat Nicki in two weeks ago.
Armand bends down to pick up the object and his vision blurs when he realises what it is. A gold ring inlaid with rubies sits in his hand. He recalls Nicki making a snide comment about it once, about how it had been one of Lestat’s many gifts to him along with the Stradivarius and the flat. For all his mockery of it, Nicki had worn it often and was sometimes caught fiddling with it absentmindedly. Armand had meant to return it to him when he brought him here before, but it had evidently gotten lost and been forgotten about until now.
He slides the ring onto the ring finger of his right hand, finding it to be a little loose but not overly so. While looking at the ring, watching the way it glints in the dimming moonlight, he takes a seat on the chair and feels a single tear slip down his cheek. The realisation hits him that he re-entered the mortal world with a maddened fledgling as his guide, a fledgling who he held a great amount of affection for over time, and now he’s left alone with the coven they built together.
Armand has lost too many people in all his long years; that list has gained another name and as he sits, staring at the ring through glassy eyes, he wonders if he’ll be able to cope with losing the next person he grows to love.