Chapter Text
After the sun had failed to end his life, Mael had done very little to help himself recover. Avicus and Zenobia did their best to keep him fed, but he rarely ever did on his own, choosing instead to allow his body to recover in its own time like the gods of the grove of old. Teskhamen himself had never truly recovered after the Parents were left to burn in the sun, and perhaps Mael never would either.
Part of him wished he wouldn’t.
Mael came and went from court, choosing much of the time to stay away from the drama, but in all the time he spent at court, he had been interested in only one vampire present. Daniel Molloy. Forgotten at court by his maker and former companion as Mael, himself was. He didn’t seem to mind, however, choosing instead to allow himself to be captivated by the sights of Auvergne while the others bickered.
Mael thoroughly enjoyed watching Daniel through the minds of others while catching glimpses of Daniel’s own mind, even if he couldn’t see into the minds of the very ancient ones. Occasionally, he spent time with Benji, fascinated by his little radio broadcast for vampires across the globe. The boy was good for him - better than even Armand or Marius ever could have been. He got Daniel out of his own head, thank the gods.
He didn’t think Daniel was all that observant - at least not of him, until one night, while the others were busy with their own lives, Daniel was once again alone.
“Hi,” Daniel’s voice had interrupted Mael’s contemplation, and he blinked in surprise as the other vampire approached. “I don’t think we’ve ever really met, have we? It’s Mael, right?”
“No,” Mael responded slowly, shifting from where he was seated in the library. Even after several decades of vampirism, Daniel still moved very much like a human - even more so than Louis, which was a surprise. “I don’t believe we have.” He was all too aware of how out of place he looked, his skin still scarred from the heat of the sun and clothing half ragged from being on the road in stark contrast with the opulent velvet couch on which he was perched.
“If you wanna be left alone, I get it,” Daniel scuffed a foot awkwardly, as though to turn and leave, but Mael shook his head.
“No,” Mael repeated, softening his tone. “I would prefer your company.” Daniel was so much quieter than the others at court, his mind, though it buzzed with energy, was soft, curious. Smooth around the edges like a river stone. Marius was always so rigid it was a miracle that such a being could have come from his bloodline.
Daniel hummed, shifting his weight. Mael could sense his apprehension, so he nodded toward the chair opposite him, “I insist.” Internally, he winced at his wording the second the words left his lips. Centuries of self-imposed isolation had done him no favors when it came to socializing, it would seem. “I have been curious about the intrepid reporter of the coven for some time.”
Daniel finally cracked a smile and his mind eased, “I’m not - really,” he replied, and at once Mael felt an odd sort of pull in his chest as Daniel moved to take the seat across from him. “Not some fearless reporter, I mean.”
“Well, you’ve survived both Marius and his hellspawn well enough,” Mael joked, but Daniel only gave an abashed smile in return.
“Yeah… but we’re all a little messed up I guess. Marius still has all those little models I made, but I almost wish he would just get rid of them.” Mael could sense Daniel’s insincerity in the statement, however. He was just as attached to the proof of his madness as Marius seemed to be.
“Why,” Mael asked, softening his tone.
Daniel looked up again, meeting his eyes only briefly, before looking at some unknown point above his head, “I don’t know, it’s just…”
“You don’t want the others to know?” Their eyes met again, and this time, Daniel’s curiosity was piqued as Mael continued, “I’ve never known any vampire to recover from such madness. Not one.”
“You’ve known others who,” Daniel trailed off, but Mael understood his meaning.
“Oh yes. Madness comes for us all at times, but for one so young, it’s always a sign that a fledgling was the wrong choice, because death becomes an inevitability.” Mael’s frank answer made Daniel blink in surprise, but as he continued, Daniel began to lean forward in his seat, leaning his elbows on his knees. “For the old ones, it’s easy to sleep and wake in another time to have another life of sorts.” To forget. To leave it all behind.
The question in Daniel’s mind was so clear that Mael couldn’t help but answer it before he decided not to ask it, “I don’t think you were the wrong choice. Had Marius brought you into the Blood himself, I don’t believe you would have been touched by madness so soon.”
“You think it was because of Armand then,” Daniel asked softly, the twisted affection he still held for his sire was all too clear. The forever young Botticelli angel who seemed to captivate all who beheld him.
“Yes,” Mael answered simply. “He was not ready to bring anyone over. It’s for the best that he never did before you either - and probably never will again.” He crossed his legs and leaned into the armrest of the couch as he watched Daniel, seeing his own piercing eyes reflected back at himself in the fledgling’s mind.
After a brief pause, Daniel responded, voice pensive, “If he hadn’t, I would be long dead by now.”
“Do you wish you were?”
The bluntness of Mael’s question caught Daniel off guard, and for a moment, he could only stare. It was obvious that no one had ever been so direct with him before this, maybe not even Marius. But it hung between them like a noose at the gallows, until finally Daniel shook his head. “No. I… think there were times that I did, but now, I don’t think so.”
In spite of the muddled confusion in Daniel’s mind as he pondered the question, it was clear that he had answered truthfully, talking through his thoughts as they came to him, rather than thinking before speaking. It was oddly charming.
“Why not?” Mael caught even himself off guard with the probing question, and finally it was he who broke their shared gaze. He could feel Daniel’s eyes still on him, and when he looked back, Daniel’s expression was not hurt or upset, as Mael had expected, but rather curious instead.
“I don’t really know,” Daniel replied slowly, and it was clear that his mind was quietly searching for words to describe what it was that kept him from spiraling back into that madness once again. An image of Marius flitted through Daniel’s mind, and Mael looked almost affronted, but didn’t comment on having overheard his mind. “I think… having something to finish helped.”
Now, he just needed something to start in order to have something to finish again. With Marius busy with coven business and with Armand, Daniel had begun to feel a little unmoored. With the short nights of summer, it was a little easier. There was less time to worry about filling, but as the nights grew longer, Daniel knew he would need something to focus on, if he wanted to keep his wits about him.
Mael’s piercing eyes watched him, unblinking as though he could see right into Daniel’s mind - and of course he could, if he wanted to. Daniel always had a difficult time shielding his mind, however the others seemed to know to steer clear of it anyway. It was all a little too much for most of the others. Too chaotic, too amorphous, too scattered.
But Mael found it fascinating.
Compared to the minds of others, so closed off and cold, Daniel’s openness was refreshing, even if his thoughts were almost impossible to follow when he wasn’t thinking about something specific.
“Benji and I have been working on the radio, but I don’t know,” Daniel shrugged, “I miss pen and paper, you know?”
Mael hummed in acknowledgment, but not quite agreement, “I’ve never been overly fond of writing.” After a brief pause, he added, “But I do occasionally find myself drawn into reading every now and again.” Though in truth, Mael couldn’t remember the last time he’d really enjoyed reading something - perhaps Daniel’s book was the last thing he’d found any level of enjoyment in.
“Come to think of it, it was your book that brought me back to the fold,” Mael continued thoughtfully. “I can’t say that I enjoy reading about the dramas of the others here, but,” Mael trailed off, peering at the young vampire, “It was fascinating. Something that has never been done before.”
Daniel looked almost embarrassed as he wrapped his arms around his chest, and Mael couldn’t help but find it endearing. “Yeah, well,” Daniel chuckled nervously, “it certainly was something, wasn’t it?”
Mael could sense Daniel’s unease surrounding his own work and for a moment, Mael had the sudden urge to shake some sense into him. He resisted, but only just. “Were you not the catalyst to begin this coven,” Mael asked pointedly, gesturing absently around them, “If it weren’t for your work, this coven would not exist.” Whether that was a good or a bad thing remained to be seen, however it didn’t seem to be the worst thing in the world for their kind to have some kind of central governance. Someone had to keep the population in line, anyway.
It was clear that Daniel hadn’t fed enough recently to blush, but with how he looked away, it was clear that he was embarrassed, but Mael continued. “If it weren’t for your work, where would you be now?”
The question was followed by silence as the weight of it crushed the point home. Daniel would’ve been dead by now. Long dead, most likely. He didn’t need to answer the question aloud for Mael to know his answer already. “Then it was worth it,” Mael stated simply.
Daniel’s chest clenched, and his heart raced, still all too human sounding in comparison to the slow, ancient rhythm of most of the coven. “Yeah,” he finally agreed, biting his lip. Old habits. He had never quite gotten the hang of the stillness the others seemed possessed. He was always moving, and now was no different as his foot jiggled up and down and he bit at nonexistent dry skin on his lower lip. “Yeah, I guess.”
A silence fell between them then, not quite companionable, but not hostile either, and Mael caught glimpses of Daniel’s loud thoughts, the ones he couldn’t quite reign in. One of them was an impression of Mael himself, and that gave the ancient vampire pause.
Unlike the others, who tended to see Mael as standoffish and disagreeable, Daniel’s impression was one of curiosity. He wasn’t put off by his hawkish gaze and statuelike stillness, but rather intrigued by it.
…The only one who hasn’t walked around on eggshells around me like I’m some kind of fragile little kid… the words drifted through Daniel’s mind, oblivious to Mael’s attention.
“You’re not fragile,” Mael answered, without shame. And when Daniel blinked up at him, Mael continued, “You’re stronger than any of them here, myself included.”
Daniel looked at Mael in shock. While it was clear he had attempted to end his own life at some point in the sun, Daniel had figured Mael put a stop to it before it could succeed.“Well I…” Daniel stammered, stumbling over his words in his haste to cover up his achievement, “I had help.”
“Marius didn’t pull you out of this, you did that all on your own.” Mael’s tone was firm, not to be argued with, yet not unkind. “I have felt the madness also - if you couldn’t tell.” He didn’t have to draw attention to his sun-damaged skin for Daniel to understand what he meant.
Though Daniel wasn’t quite sure where he and Mael stood, he still extended the same courtesy Mael had given him when he asked, “Do you regret it?”
The faintest flicker of a smile crossed Mael’s otherwise neutral expression, and Daniel caught the impression of his interest straight away. “No,” Mael responded simply. Daniel’s second question burned in his mind, loudly enough for Mael to overhear it, but he waited for Daniel to ask it aloud, wanting to see how the boy would respond to the pressure of the conversation.
“Do you wish it had gone differently,” Daniel asked, not meeting Mael’s eyes.
Mael couldn’t help the smirk that curved the corners of his lips up. The boy had guts, he had to give him that. Guts and an intense curiosity, which Mael knew would be the source of his strength to endure over the years.
“I did,” Mael responded thoughtfully, tilting his head slightly to one side as he considered, “But now I am not so certain. It remains to be seen.” Perhaps he was clinging too tightly to this boy already, but he couldn’t help it. In all his two millennia, Mael had never been quite so captivated by anyone except Avicus - and regrettably, Marius.
The silence that fell between them was more companionable than it had been before, both ancient and fledgling finally on what felt like solid common ground. How was it that Mael saw himself in Daniel, one so young his existence was a mere long sleep to him? Had he gone to ground earlier in the century, as he once had considered, perhaps he would have never known about Daniel’s existence. Like so many other mortals, he would’ve come and gone in the span of a blink.
The question, when it came out, was spoken on impulse, “Have you ever travelled to the lands of the midnight sun?”
Daniel frowned slightly, but shook his head, “I don’t think so. Where is that?”
“In the far north, above the arctic circle - the sun shines throughout the summer without end, and then in the winter, there is a month with no sunlight,” Mael explained, and at that Daniel’s eyes lit up in understanding.
“Oh, yeah, that! I’ve never been, but I always wanted to - I mean now I don’t know how much fun it would be to sleep for that long, but, it would be interesting, if anything.” he trailed off, laughing a little awkwardly.
There was a deep sadness in Mael’s eyes that Daniel didn’t quite catch, before he responded, “I had planned to leave soon to arrive in time for the long night and stay through the summer. Perhaps, if you would care to get away from this place for that long, you can write about it from our perspective - for your project with Benji.”
A small part of Mael hoped that Daniel would say no to his frankly ridiculous invitation, but with the way hope intermingled with nerves flared in Daniel’s mind, he knew what the answer would be before he said it. Though the idea of someone who wasn’t one of the clods from the coven was oddly exciting. It gave Mael a brief glimmer of something to look forward to that he had been seeking for decades.
“I… Are you sure? I’m not really the best of company,” and after a pause, he added sheepishly, “and I’m not sure Marius would be too happy about me leaving for that long.”
Mael only shrugged, “If it’s Marius you’re worried about, leave him to me.”
Daniel seemed unable to restrain the smile that fought to show itself, but in an attempt to seem less excited than he clearly was, he ran a hand through his hair and gave a little shrug in return, “If you’re sure - I wouldn’t want to intrude,” and the silent but it would be something to get the hell out of here for a little while , drifted from Daniel’s mind.
“Very well, I’ll make the arrangements,” Mael smiled, and for the first time in a long time, it felt genuine.