Chapter Text
It's a cold night. Armand is hiding up on a roof in Paris, on what should have been one of the most glorious days of his death, and still this is the thought that crosses his mind as he watches Louis exit the perimeter, hopefully out of Lestat’s life forever now. Lestat calls out to Louis to no response.
He looks, and he sees fog as Louis exhales shakily, almost at the door. It's cold. Why is he even thinking about the weather? Focus on something important. Little steps, let's start with Louis. What should Armand do, if anything, about Louis.
Should he go after him? And do what? Watching another of Lestat’s fledglings go into the fire could be satisfying. Maybe take him as his own as one final step into his revenge? No. Armand decides he is exactly where he wants to be as he catches a glimpse of the first tear escaping Lestat’s blue eyes. This is what it's been all for, seeing his confidence broken, inflicting pain as Armand had once felt upon the one that mocked him. Yes, this is the path he must follow. When Lestat turns to him like he always knew Armand had been there and simply asks "Why?" that's what he answers. It's all for this moment.
"What taste is this upon my lips?" He makes himself truly known to Lestat. He was, of course, talking about the taste of victory, of Lestat’s misery. "A taste so sweet, what can it be?" Oh taste, taste, taste... Just a taste of his attention felt like fire consuming him from inside out.
He remembers what tasting Lestat once felt like. Breathing him in, seeing the sculptured features up close, speaking directly into his ear and absorbing all of Lestat he could while not being himself observerd, the flush of pale skin before the bite, his pulse rushing under Armand's lips for incredible five seconds. He'd tasted sweet then, the vampire blood such a developed wine Armand had been denied for centuries, though unlike all the humans he'd fed from in all this time, Lestat didn't submit under him and the extraordinary taste had been ripped away from his mouth and Armand was in the ground, laughing drunkenly and being told to never come near him again if he didn't desire death.
Oh the rage, the curses he hurled at Lestat after that final painful rejection. He spat on the ground then, didn't allow himself to look back as he shoved all thoughts of longing to be called out back into the depths of his mind. Part of him thought he would be, that Lestat, obsessed with being loved as he was, would stop him, that there could be a future for them. At last, there was no call as Armand had left that night, more than 30 years ago. No notice or correspondence as Lestat had disappeared into the air only to come back now as fragile as he'd ever been, barely having to be held back as his broken mind tried to advocate for his bitch of a child and weakling excuse of a companion. Well, they are no more. He can still smell the scent of ash in the freezing humid air.
"What is this scent upon the air that fills my lungs and comforts me? And whispers low, how does it feel? To savor up such just revenge.To smell the fragrancy of loss?"
After all, what was Lestat thinking coming back here? What did he think would happen? Armand had been elated to see his face. Proclaimed themselves changed men and responded in humor about how his life had been going after the tornado that was Lestat had long passed his shores, left him to rebuild his life from the ground up while he went on adventures with his wretched mother and the violinist. Well, where were they now? He couldn't help but prod. Those people that made him leave, that were so important then, yet were nowhere to be found when they reunited.
He remembers asking Lestat what happened to him, feeling some hope after he deflected his questioning. If Lestat was alone now and coming to him, could this be...? But he'd simply replaced his last group of loved ones, it seams. Worst of all, Armand had apparently been living with the creatures for a year, the unremarkable actors had the audacity of being in his presence when they had possessed what should have been his. And Armand had been right in his curses, those Lestat made had risen against him. A shallow victory he couldn't enjoy, because Lestat wasn't here for him at all as it would appear, but for his blood and strength. Armand needs it to be said out loud "Ask for it" leaving his lips as all illusions left his mind.
The bastard didn't even care to look bothered about his murder attempt. He seemed proud of the brat for her plan and Armand wanted to scream. Wanted to burn the whole place down with them all locked inside, to see the actors on stage melting and be one with this stupid man in ashes if he couldn't have it any other way. "Why couldn't it be me?" He wanted to say. "When you moved on from your last entourage why didn't you come back instead of making complete strangers into this mockery of a family?" Why were their sins so easily forgiven now when he wasn't given such a chance? What made him so repulsive that Lestat had finally gone back from his ghost chase, something Armand had forbidden himself to dream about, and still now all he wanted from him was a favor? He even mocked him by mentioning Marius, after claiming to have misspoken his own maker's name. This had to be deliberate cruelty.
There was no choice but to hurt them. The unworthy fools that even on the threat of death didn't regret their crimes against their maker. Oh how he hated them, but it paled in comparison to the waves of emotion he felt for him. Daring to ask to not have an execution done in his name as he was dragged back. Maybe he really didn't know at that point, that the death of Claudia was in anything but his name and honor, it was to destroy him, to appease the beast inside Armand that wanted to hurt, to finally burn the heretic he was denied more than 30 years ago.
Now on this roof Lestat says nothing to him. Why? Was he still shaken about pathetic Louis? Drunkenly inhaling his pain until there was nothing of the bold man that destroyed Armand's centuries constructed life in him?
"Oh, can it be? Your countenance is stripped of all its dash and dare? And what of your bold confidence? Could it have drowned in your despair?"
Maybe Armand was right once again. This Lestat is a different man. Less polished with his injuries still nagging at him, yet no less arrogant with his horrendous plan to come here. Maybe if he imagined this Lestat before him, still as beautiful and enticing as in the day he'd broken coven rules and entered a church for him, as an entire different being, Armand could convince himself this was about their many disagreements, about how things went wrong in their past, about the Children of Satan and the humiliation then. Yes. It was Lestat who was pretending before, to be invulnerable to him, to be intellectually stimulating, to be without shame. He had to let go of his fascinating Lestat because he was never real. Yes, yes, yes.
"And after all this time I wash my hands of your charade. And celebrate your fall from grace. Preserve that sad look on your face."
Let him be miserable like his fledgling! What does Armand have to care for? He won't even speak now, with it all being thrown in his face. He is just looking at Armand, leaning on a skylight on what could be read as casual if Armand didn't know it was so he wouldn't wobble, was he even now trying to preserve his pride? Armand will stand over him if that's what it takes, show off his compared health, go so close he could touch Lestat if he wanted to. Not that he wants to! Whatever. Lestat is shivering from the cold.
God needs to intervene, to help him stay focused in this moment of triumph. This is what this is about, one final gloat to his ideological rival before he becomes a lost soul and Armand... What should he do after this? For centuries he did not want, did not stray from the old ways, and like a tornado came the change. He wanted to learn a new way from a man who has only been a vampire for a second at that point. He was denied and his want morphed into a longing to reunite, to be wanted in return. If he is to let go of these wants... Does he just go back to the theater? Pretend nothing had changed? Because it shouldn't, Lestat didn't get to come back and upend his life once again, right? Get to be his vehicle for change while Armand was what? Collateral damage in his great epic?
He needs to stay focused. God won't fail him and he is going to be shown the way. Even if he can't see a way away from Lestat right now.
"And praise what God might manifest himself to beings such as us."
This is all Lestat's fault in the end. He needs to remember why he's doing this. Revenge. For his pride. It's just a principle thing! It's in his very nature to not take kindly to humiliation or God forbid, feeling small. This is what this is all about, he is a powerful vampire proving a point. You know what's sweet? Revenge.
"For vengeance that at last is mine. Comes sweetly after all this time."
Yes. Point proven and he didn't even have to stand up. He lay casually and didn't raise his voice this whole time. He wasn't ruled by his emotions like the rest of them. Wasn't always giving up the game by losing control. Satan, it's so cold out here...
Lestat speaks.
"You never meant to help me, did you?" He sounds defeated, yes. He also sounds like this is a revelation that should have happened long ago. Armand doesn't understand him.
What the hell is this question? Did he truly not get it? Was he that unaware of the mechanisms of Armand's mind? Was Armand that unclear with his intentions? He replied, baffled and rose.
"You, who destroyed all of it!? You took everything! What made you think I would help you?" He'd taken his peace of mind with him, taken the ease of a life ruled by scripture, took his thoughts and desires and went to the New World. Their last encounter all those years ago ended with screaming, for God's sake! Is this to mock him? Where did this faith in him come from? Is it naivety? Did Lestat see goodness in him somehow? He had offered to help him 30 years ago, however not a soul present that night would argue he'd done it out of kindness. Except for this fool, apparently! God dammit, why is Armand the one screaming?
He thinks of going on a tirade. Recall every denial, every time he'd cursed him, every flaw that drove Armand insane. I'd no sooner you in my veins then to see you with the ones you love, he imagines saying it, sneaking the line on a repeated tirade. Maybe he even mouthed the sentence out while shaking. Armand is losing his temper, getting agitated, and maybe it would hurt him, so why not say it? Loom over him while he's at it, speak in Lestat’s ear as he once did and destroy everything on his way before leaving? Steamroll Lestat into never talking to him again.
But it is such a lie, isn't it? He is still unwilling to admit many truths even here, in the privacy of his own mind, yet he knows that's a pure falsehood. He couldn't bear to not be one of the ones Lestat loved. His pride and the sheer slap of the unintended rejection alone stopped him from giving and asking before. For blood. For love. He wanted him in his veins. Is this truly righteous revenge or is he lashing out? Making what he wants unavailable to him just like he did on the first time? He rethinks his reasoning so far.
In his perfect world he'd have both, vengeance and Lestat. Is that possible? If he allows himself to be honest for one moment he would have to admit he doesn't want to give up and figure out a new life that doesn't involve blue eyes. Doesn't want to pretend he'd not known Lestat, even if his view was distant, lacked the detail one might have if allowed close, he saw him. Saw the shape of his soul as clearly in any crowd as if Lestat had been an apparition all these years. Why does Armand have to choose? Between the certainty of a momentary satisfaction and the uncertainty of trying with an unmeasurable prize at the other end, what hill does he die on? He rethinks this choice over and over and says:
"Why do you not love me?"