Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

This will include spoilers for my completed fic, Daughter of Destiny. If you haven't finished it, you probably should. But I'm not your mom.

Chapter Text

After the meeting ended, Eliza remained on the bench for an uncomfortable amount of time. She was still there even after almost every vampire had vacated the hall.

“Eliza,” Larten’s low voice broke through the buzzing inside her head. “It’s time to go.”

She said nothing, just sat there; gaze fixated on the stone floor. A moment later her eyes lifted to stare at the Stone of Blood, crimson and gleaming.

Her fists clenched against her lap and she felt a sudden hatred for... everything... well up inside of her.

She hated the clan. She hated Kurda. But, most of all, she hated herself.

She was a traitor... but only to him.

Tears sprung to her eyes and she rushed to wipe them away as new ones quickly formed in there place. The familiar heaviness of her mentor’s hand settled onto her shoulder and Eliza, swatted him away, rubbing at her eyes in the next motion.

“Please,” she said, “I just want to be alone.”

The remaining three princes had cleared the hall ages ago, only Mika Ver Leth remained, eyes dark and expressionless. As Larten’s eyes lifted to meet Mika’s, he said nothing, hoping his immediate silence would speak volumes and the Vampire prince would read his mind.

Mika was also silent for a few more minutes, gaze darting between the sobbing half-vampire and her despondent mentor.

Larten had dealt with a great deal of hardships himself in the last few hours, and would have to witness more in the near future; the makeshift funeral for his apprentice, Darren Shan and longtime friend, Gavner Purl.

The vampire clan as a whole had suffered a number of unthinkable horrors. And they were moments away from disposing of someone who was once a friend.

Despite how Mika may have seemed in most cases, he was not above simple compassion and decency. He fixed the dark cape hanging around his neck and his gaze settled on Eliza.

“You may stay for awhile.” He hesitated before he added, “But only for a few minutes. I have to proceed to the Hall of Death for the execution.” The absence of Kurda’s name spoke volumes.

His eyes flickered toward Larten as his tone peaked, signalling inquiry. Larten looked at Eliza, saying nothing. She read his eyes and fresh tears spilled down over her cheeks. She shook her head and dug the heels of her palms against her face.

“I will be attending the execution,” Larten told Mika. “But Eliza will not.” He looked to Seba who only nodded, meaning he would be attending as well.

Neither had any energy left for anger. They were simply saddened by everything.

Larten patted Eliza’s hand and nodded toward Mika as he rose to his feet. He quietly thanked him with the low sweep of his upperbody and quickly exited the hall with Seba Nile at his heels.

For a long while both of them said nothing. Even after five minutes or so must have passed, neither of them broke it. In a strange way, the familiar hum of silence almost felt comforting. They knew what was coming.

Kurda was going to die. And there was nothing they could say or do to stop it.

When she could speak, Eliza looked up at Mika. He hadn’t left the stage the Princes thrones were settled on; a thick stone slab she’d stood on a few times herself since she’d been there and she’d likely have to mount it again. Either to face her death or... whatever other punishment they decided for her.

“Have you ever had to execute a traitor before?” she asked quietly, her knuckles turning white as the words left her lips in a soft whisper.

Mika shook his head. “Never one who was a friend.” His tone was sharp, but well-meaning.

She sat for another minute before getting to her feet. She bowed to Mika. “Thank you, Sire Ver Leth.”

As she was about to walk away, Mika hesitated, lifting a hand out toward her. She turned, her gaze fixed on the floor, unable to look him in the eye.

“Do you have any last words for Kur... for the... the traitor?” He spoke quietly. She almost didn’t hear him.

She swallowed the tight lump sitting in her throat. Thinking for a moment, her mind drew a blank and she shook her head, bowing low to the prince once more. “Please tell him... in the most fucked up way possible, ‘I’m sorry’. I want him to know that.”

Her shoulders shivered as the words left her mouth and the hot taste of bile rose in her throat. She clapped a hand over her mouth and shook her head as she swallowed.

“Thank you, Sire,” she spoke hurriedly as her stomach squirmed. “I – Sorry, please excuse me!” Her tone was curt as she rushed into the corridor, rushing past the guard.

She rounded the corner into a lower pit, lurching forward so she could vomit.

“Fuck,” she gasped, trying not to choke on the fresh coating of spit dripping from her tongue. She gagged and spat into the dirt, clutching the wall beside her.

Once she was sure she was finished, she spun on her heels, bumping right into another vampire. She gasped, relaxing only when her attention settled and she recognized the two vampires clad in red.

Her gaze dropped to the floor again. It hurt to focus and she was so tired.

They all were.

“You haven’t left?” she said to Larten and Seba. “Hurry up or you’ll miss it.”

Larten shook his head. His eyebrows knitted together in the centre of his forehead as wrinkles creased his brow. “Are you all right?” he asked.

Eliza wanted to retort with a snarky comment, but didn’t have the energy. Instead, she rejected the concern with the shake of her head and a shrug of her shoulders. “Yeah, I’m fine. Go watch the traitor die.”

There was a hot ball sitting in her throat at those words. Her fever must have gotten worse over the course of the trial because felt irritable and exhausted.

“But, Eliza -”

“Dammit, why won’t you just leave me alone!” she snapped, shoving passed him and Seba.

Then she sprinted down the tunnel, not stopping until she found a smaller tunnel on her way down the mountain. She recognized from one of Kurda’s maps and quickly dove inside, wiping fresh tears from her eyes as she crawled along down the damp dark path. She finally stopped when she emerged through an opening, eyes settling on the sinking sun.

She gasped, gulping in fresh mountain air as her hair brushed her face. Her eyes glistened with more tears as she rushed to wipe them away. Her fingers twitched against her palms as she watched the sun sink deeper and deeper behind the trees in the distance.

Everything felt dreamlike. Surreal.

She told herself none of this was really happening. But, even in that state, she was above her own delusion – she couldn’t trick herself.

She wanted to kick and scream at God – but what god could she scream to?

Who did vampires pray to? Who did she pray to?

A vampire, but still human; half and half. Laughter bubbled up in her throat. It was like the start of a bad joke.

She didn’t belong anywhere. And now she had no one to share that anguish with. The only other person who would have fully understood her was gone. And he was never coming back... no matter how much she screamed, and cried and begged a god she was no longer allowed to believe in.

Smashing a fist into the ground, Eliza clenched her teeth together, swallowing a scream as she lowered her forehead against the icy cold dirt. Her shoulders shivered, but not because of the cold.

He was gone... and nothing could bring him back.

It was so stupid.

A bad and foul joke; that was her life.

Kurda’s looming death and Darren’s long since passing.

It wasn’t fair.

Her nails met the fresh, rocky dirt beneath her and she threw her head back, screaming as loudly as she could. She cursed the clan. Cursed herself and Kurda. Cursed whatever fucking God was responsible for the Hell she was going through.

Eliza’s screams stopped only when her throat grew dry and her voice hoarse. She stayed on the ledge even when her fingertips grew numb, her knees drawn against her chest, face hidden from the pitch black sky.

It had been an hour or so since Kurda’s execution.

Silently, she hoped nobody would come for her. But, her wishes weren’t granted – big surprise!

She heard footsteps behind her and automatically knew who it was.

“I told you to leave me alone, didn’t I?” she said, her voice slightly muffled as she buried her head in her knees. But Larten heard her loud and clear.

He said nothing, just came up beside her and sat down.

“I’m sorry,” she said after a few minutes.

Larten’s ears pricked to the sound of her voice, having grown used to the long stretch of silence. “For what?” She knew he was probably just playing dumb, but continued anyway.

“Everything.” She bit her bottom lip, still too afraid to face him as she buried her head deeper into her crossed arms. “For Darren’s death – for telling everyone about Kurda – a- about Arra – I’m sorry.” The apology fell from her lips like a string of curses, but less powerful. “It’s all my fault. If I didn’t exist, none of this would have happened.”

His heart fell at the mention of Arra and he froze. After a second, he found his voice and his expression softened. Uncharacteristically, he leaned his shoulder against Eliza’s. “You do not have to apologize for any of that,” he said.

“But it’s my fault!” Her voice was growing louder.

“No, it is not.” His eyebrows furrowed slightly. “I do not understand why you think it is.”

Finally, Eliza raised her head. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were red and puffy. “It should have been me!” she yelled. “If I hadn’t been born – if I wasn’t alive – Darren would still be here and Kurda wouldn’t have – he – I... I.. - he....” She trailed off, unsure of what she was even saying at that point.

Her shoulders slumped deeper and she sank into herself. “I’m so tired of fucking up and everyone else having to suffer because of it.”

Larten didn’t know what to say. He was used to grief and loss and everything bad in this world. He’d seen it all. Even had to kill his best friend; the one person he’d thought would have understood him through everything. And now that his own apprentice was going through a somewhat similar situation, he felt a slight pang of understand for Seba Nile.

He gently placed a hand onto Eliza’s shoulder, but she pulled away, shuffling as far away from his attempt at comfort as possible.

“And what would Darren say if he heard your words?”

Finally, she lifted her head, glaring at her mentor.

“It doesn’t matter what he’d fucking say because he’d dead!” she screamed, hot tears burning against her skin. “And he’s never coming back!”

They were back to square one. And, as long as Eliza sat in her own corner of self-deprecation, they would stay there for an eternity.

Sighing, Larten’s shoulders slumped. He hadn’t had much time to grieve Darren’s death himself, and he knew Eliza needed him more. But, he wasn’t sure what to say to her. She wouldn’t listen.

And that was the problem.

The only person she would listen to was dead... and he wasn’t coming back.

With one last look at the moon and the stars, Larten rose to his feet with as much grace as he could muster. But his patience with his stubborn apprentice was wearing thin.

“You need rest.” His voice was stern, commanding, but she didn’t budge.

She stood at the edge of the cliff, staring over the ledge at the snowy ground beneath them.

How far was it? she wondered. Fifty feet? Sixty... no, way, way more.

At last, she shook her head, turning away from the edge and taking a step back.

“I thought about it once, too,” Larten confessed to her. His tone was quiet and sullen; full of sorrow for the past, in a way. “However, if you end your life here, then you have no future.” His tone was still stern, but calm. As he stared into the face of his idiot apprentice, he began to understand her. “With time, wounds can heal, but they may never close. Do you understand?”

For a minute, Eliza said nothing. Now it was her turn to be speechless and to contemplate the words of someone else.

Her fists clenched into tight balls. “I do.”

If it was a lie, she would have said it anyway. So maybe it was.

She didn’t know. She didn’t care. She was just so fucking tired.