Tenebrae Immortalis

By Arcadia, Kain's Queen and Kain, Lord of Nosgoth

Disclaimer - Raziel and Kain are © Eidos and Crystal Dynamics, everyone else is © AKQ (Arcadia, Kain's Queen).

Summary - Nevermind. You'll see.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter One - Dark Meetings

Silently, the window slid open, allowing the dark shape to slip inside the massive house. Twin pools of the darkest blue flitted about the innards of the sitting room before a shiver traced down the back of the intruder. Crazy. She had to be crazy to be doing this.. To be stealing from the most powerful man in all of northern Europe..! But, the woman moved with a sleek, fae grace through the dark shadows. The mansion of Kain, Duke of Nosgoth.. From outside, it was an architectural marvel of beauty, modeled in the Gothic style with beautifully sculpted buttresses and tall spires that spiraled upwards like twisting horns.

But the building was built entirely out of black stone, and many whispered that Kain's enemies would go in.. And never come out. To the thief's experienced eye, she could see everything in here was elegant, yet simple in price. Worthless to her. Silently, Arcadia moved through the dark house, biting and worrying her lower lip even as she looked at the bloody purple rays of moonlight streaming in through the stained glass windows. She could tell that in the daytime, they would be simply beautiful, but at night.. The woman continued to move through the silent mansion, hunting for something of great value. Something that would bring her money she could put away for herself..

Then, something caught her eye.. Slowly, she crept into the room, skittish, furtive.. Something about the house made chills run over the woman's spine, as if saying she was not welcome here. But the slim woman was drawn into the room, looking at the desk, gleaming black in the light. Somehow, Arcadia wasn't surprised. None had ever seen Kain except at the most extravagant parties thrown by the ton and the woman herself hadn't ever seen the nobleman. But one hand, gleaming silver in the plain, unaltered light of the window reached down and she picked up the signet ring lying atop the stack of vellum sheeting. It was heavy, a good sign, and the symbol upon it was like nothing she had ever seen before. Intriguing.. But the woman's senses told her to leave, now, and sliding the ring onto her thumb, Arcadia turned to leave.

He had been aware of her from the moment she entered his estate, uninvited at that. Twin yellow orbs were narrowed on her as he stood in the doorway of his office. He'd been watching the thief all this time but she had never caught on that she was being watched, let alone followed. With unearthly grace and silence he crossed the office, approaching her like some great predatory creature. As he came into the moonlight he was exposed to her, the lord of the manor, Kain. His flesh was as pale as death and his features hard, his yellow eyes narrowed to dangerous slits. He looked as though he had newly risen from the grave, save for the expensive and fancy clothes he wore. He was garbed as a true noble would be, and as far as the world was concerned he was exactly that. But he was more, much more. Kain was greater than the human cattle that believed they ruled in the world, he knew the truth though. They lived to serve him and those like him, but there weren't many like him.

As the distance closed between them in seeming slow motion, he reached out and gripped the woman by her throat, lifting her from the floor to meet his eye level. A guttural growl rumbled out of his throat as he clamped his fingers over her own. Quick as a wolf his other hand gripped hers and wrenched his signet ring from her thumb. Slowly he raised it, looking at his coat of arms, which was a mockery of the coat of arms of the holy order of Sarafan who had undertaken a crusade to exterminate his kind. Poetic justice that the vampyre lord would chose to do such a thing, in time his kind would take their rightful places as dark gods, ruling over the human cattle. Finally, the lord spoke.

"Hoping to bring in a nice profit from my signet ring, woman? I'm sorry to say that you won't get the chance to do that. You won't get the chance to do anything else, actually. I do not tolerate thieves in my home."

Her eyes grew wide and the woman grabbed onto his arm, fingers curling about the warm velvet tightly, her throat bobbing as she swallowed. Those dark blue orbs grew even wider as she stared at him from behind her leather mask, the top part of her face covered. As the moonlight fell upon the thief, it could be seen the woman looked lean, every muscle in her body taut and showing a dedication to physical endurance few women would dare show in this age where social status was everything to the ton. Her body was lithe and shapely, but hidden in obscurity by the black garments she wore. But her hair.. It was the hair that was Arcadia's most intriguing feature. Long skein of black silk slid down to the woman's waist, brushing down below the rising curve of her bottom but it was tipped with white, as if her mother had dipped the child's hair within the rays of the moon. And the man got an experience of how powerful she was when Arcadia's foot slammed up into his groin, foot protected by thick leather boots. Even as she felt his fingers loosen, the man gasping and doubling over in shock, she grabbed the signet ring, slamming a small capsule onto the ground, shutting her eyes tightly as light burst suddenly in the room like a miniature sun, blinding him. Whirling, the woman dove out through the window, hitting the ground amidst the pieces of glass, coming up with a roll and she ran, long legs pumping against the ground, swiftly carrying her across the grounds. Gathering herself, the woman leapt up, scrambling up the wall, nearly running up it and leapt down to the street, rolling again. And swiftly, the woman vanished into the gloom of the night, with his signet ring.

A moment on the floor of his office seemed like an eternity before the pain even began to recede. As he pushed himself up from the floor, a cascade of stark white hair fell over his face, mostly concealing the enraged snarl that had firmly fixed itself on his face. She had escaped, with his signet ring at that. It was an insult to him, one that would be paid for in blood, her blood. He had planned on staying in this night; strange how one's plans can be changed so dramatically by a single act perpetrated by a single person. With a growl he cast himself out the window, his form dissolving into a cloud of mist as it descended to the ground below. He hadn't seen much of the thief, but he had seen enough to be able to pick her out. The one mistake of his 'guest' had been to not hide her hair, that veritable sea of midnight whose ends had been dipped in liquid silver. As his form reconstituted itself, he assumed a more fitting guise for walking the streets, appearing now as he was best known. No longer that pale skinned, white haired and yellow eyed creature, but a young nobleman of fair skin, dark hair and reddish brown eyes. And so he began his search, lifting the hand he had gripped her with to his nose and taking her scent from it as he went.

He was met with a fresh, womanly scent, tinged by sweat from her exertions. A faint hue of jasmine was there too, coming from the pressure points behind her ears. But that was worthless to him, as she had vanished within the sewers of the city, only a slight rise from a nearby grate indicating her escape route. The scent alone was enough to nearly knock out an ordinary human.. To one with his fine senses, it would be overwhelming. And the woman had truly escaped him now. Once at her home, the girl stripped out of her clothes, stuffing them into a bag and tossed it into the servants' quarters, before flitting to her room. Once there, the girl pulled on her sleeping gown and cap, chafing at wearing the clothing before she looked down at her prize. Something deep within her told the thieving aristocrat to hold onto it, and so, threading the signet ring upon a silver chain, she hung it about her neck, feeling the ring come to rest in the valley between her breasts. Climbing into bed, the girl stared upwards at the darkness of her bed's canopy. Those eyes.. Twin slits of pure gold that had caught her somehow.. Stealing something from the thief.. Finally, Arcadia fought for sleep, succeeding.. But dreams were filled with darkness and something that made her wake feeling.. different.. Fingering the ring she had taken during the night, the woman finally got dressed before her father could come in.

She had most definitely escaped him, there were places in the city he simply wouldn't go, and where her scent had led was one of them. The reek from the sewers nearly overwhelmed him before he could even come close to the thief's point of entry. With a growl he turned and started back to his estate, he would most likely never see his signet ring again. It was more than a simple piece of jewelry; he had forged the item himself and bestowed upon it a portion of his power, his dark gift. It was as much a part of him as he was of it, but no one would ever know that. It was a secret kept between ring and maker. With unnatural ease he leaped up and into the broken window of his office, finding everything was as it had been when he left. He would let his servants deal with the mess and left a note explaining that a thief had broken in, shattering the window when they had made their escape. He didn't mention the theft of his signet ring since he couldn't give a description of the thief. Besides, he knew that given time the ring would find it's way back to him. Some things cannot be set asunder and remain so indefinitely, so it was with Kain and his ring. The lord left another note saying that the preparations were to continue as planned, the masquerade would go on.

As she went about her duties during the day, washing away the scent of the sewers, Arcadia had looked up at her mirror and seen two eyes of burning gold set in a pale face and as she had whirled about in the tub, there had been nothing there.. Nothing at all.. But, as the girl rose from the bath, water sliding down her body, she could've sworn later to a priest if he had so asked, that something had brushed between her legs, like a strong, thin finger moving in a slow, gradual caress.. All through the day, the touches and visions persisted and while Arcadia fought to pretend everything was normal, she lost her composure when her father told her of the coming masked ball.

"We're doing WHAT?!" the girl screamed at him. "What the hell do you mean, we're going to a masquerade at Duke Kain's mansion in two weeks?!"

Sebastian fought a gulp. Even if his daughter hadn't inherited his flaming red hair, she certainly had the temper of the Scots. And she had her mother's commanding presence. But the Marquis of Heathglen cleared his throat and nodded slowly, his dark blue eyes meeting his daughters. "Yes, we are. And you are going, NO questions asked. I've already gotten the maids to start a new dress for you."

And that was that. Arcadia found herself slowly gaining a dress of midnight blue velvet, silver thread embroidering the hem, bringing out the same flecks of silver in the girl's eyes. But the dreams persisted, as did the visions and those ghostly touches, leaving the girl somewhat uncomfortable and afraid. And now, she was traveling in the carriage to the mansion, a mask of black silk wrapping about her upper face, hair twisted up into an elegant bun upon her head, the moon-tressed tips coiling about her face and brushing over her skin. Rumors were flying about the significance of this ball.. Perhaps he was going to be stepping down.. Perhaps he was going to find a wife.. No one knew and the slight danger to the atmosphere of enjoyment heightened the intrigue. But Arcadia held her dress up as she descended the stairs to the ballroom, hand tucked within the crook of her father's arm. For a brief moment as she looked up, Arcadia saw gold eyes before they vanished.. Leaving her to shiver.

"Are you cold..?" asked Sebastian, concerned.

"No, father.." Arcadia replied, looking down at her dress. It ran off the shoulders, the straps resting upon her arms beneath them. The neckline was slightly low, revealing the slopes of her upper breasts to eager young gamecocks, as the young nobles of the ton were known as. The skirts descended from an empire-style waistline, brushing over the floor gently without all the many petticoats. Just one and then the dress.. That was it..

The ball proceeded without so much as a glimpse of the Duke, it was a strange thing and all the guests there assembled murmured to one another, speculating that he would make some grand entrance. Others thought that he wouldn't show at all, a few young noblemen went so far as to say that while everyone was in the ballroom, Kain had simply left his manor and everything within it. As the night drew on, Kain still was nowhere to be seen. When asked when their lord was coming his servants would simply shrug and reply, "The lord will show himself when he wishes, not when commanded," before they went along, carrying out their duties.

As the clock struck midnight the music played by the small orchestra changed, much to the surprise of the guests. Soon the attention of all was turned towards the stairs, and there, standing at the top of them, was the lord of the manor, Duke Kain, dressed in the finest clothes that could be found anywhere. Upon his person he wore a crimson dress shirt and over it a black satin vest with gold trim along the hem, his pants were of a raven hue and the legs vanished into the tops of black leather dress boots. Black hair was combed and tied back and upon his lips he wore a cordial smile.

"My guests, welcome to my manor. I am pleased to see you all here. I do hope that you are finding the food and drink to your enjoyment." His gaze swept over the crowd below, as his eyes fell upon a woman with midnight hair, the tips dipped in silver; a flash of memory stole over her, making those yellow eyes full of hate. How right he had been, the ring would lead her back to him, and what a night for it do so. With a clap of his hands he turned his attention to the musicians.

"Some music to dance to, if you please. I'm certain my guests would appreciate it." Smiling, he descended the stairs with an unearthly grace; his movements seemed more than human, his manner bringing even the haughtiest to silent respect. And so he approached that young woman he had picked out of the crowd and asked her to dance.