Gemütlichkeit [Leonie]

[Alaric von der Marck]

WEARING

The weather was pleasant, at least for Canada. To others in warmer climates it might have been cold, but a mild sixty degrees Fahrenheit was, to Alaric von der Marck, pleasant. Still, the fire happily crackled in the fireplace in the middle of the outdoor gathering space, the elder seated on one of the cushioned outdoor chairs while he basked in the fresh air. It moved around him in flurries, at once cold and warm at the same time as the heat from the flames reached toward him, then was whipped away by the gentle breeze. To the vampire, the sensation of moving temperature upon his bare skin was tantalizing, mesmerising. There was a certain calm that came with the serenity, out here in the open. And he was slowly getting better.

The library was his haven only because he’d made sure it remained technology free. The walls were thick, and deep within its cacoon, surrounded by paper and vellum, he was secure from stray signals and random bombardments of the modern world. Alone, he was free from the temptation of reading the minds of those he was surrounded by; their memories were pure sources of information, information that he might not be able to gain otherwise. And yet, the information belonged to them, and they were allowed their secrets and their private lives. The temptation now was only spurred by concern. Having been accused of not helping one of his own who’d been in need, Alaric wondered if privacy should be ignored, their secrets safe so long as he could know when they were in need.

However, there was also the argument of independence. They had survived this long in their lives without him, and perhaps they preferred to show their own strength, to help themselves. To interfere when he was not wanted would, in the end, only sour the bonds. Perhaps it was best to remain in the dark, to know nothing about what they do and who they spend their time with. And so Alaric’s mind remained a steel trapped, locked up, its roving fingers chained and schooled to be good – reaching out only as a means of communication. As they did now – looking toward the Estate, a shadow moved past a window. Leonie.

”Leonie. Come sit with me? I am outside, by the fire.”

In English, because he thought it best to keep practicing. If he fell back into his native German, the English he had learned so quickly might slip away, not yet fused into place.

[Leonie von der Marck]

The Lioness had been stalking the halls of late when she could not rest, pacing and attempting to keep her calm. So much had happened in so short a time that she found it difficult to concentrate on one thing most of the time, many times felt as though her skin was the only thing holding her together. Whether she wandered the Manor or the cottage depended mostly upon who was in residence and whether she would keep them up, trying all the while to ensure her sudden bout of insomnia didn’t affect anyone who had to be up at a certain hour. There was much to do, much to plan, and much to say and Leonie had little idea of how or when to do so.

But it wasn’t to be a night filled with unanswerable questions; not with the quietly ringing words in her head, for sure, asking her in English to join the Patriarch, this time outside the library that had once more become his personal study. A smile crossed her lips; it had been awhile since she’d had any one-on-one time with the man and it was a pleasant surprise. A needed one, that she hadn’t thought to ask for after the effort it had taken to assist Judah.

And so, without hesitation, the Lioness made her way to the outer area where the outside fireplace was already roaring. It was a welcome addition to a night that she otherwise found frigid, unseasonably so at that. And as she settled herself beside him, a soft smile crossed her lips

“Good evening, Alaric. I hope the night is finding you well.”

[Alaric von der Marck]

The hour was late – or early, depending on how one looked at it. It was least two in the morning, though Alaric did not have a clock to look at. Clocks, such nifty inventions if one were overly concerned with the passing of time. It gave time a physical appearance – it gave the illusion of hurry. If one did not watch a clock at all, time could almost be ignored. If it were not for the rising and setting of the sun, for the life and death of all living things, time would be insignificant.

And yet, it was not insignificant. To all mortal beings, time was essential. They had to know what day of the week it was and whether they should be at work or at church or sleeping. Most were asleep; there were several hours every night that Alaric spent alone, the Estate quiet except for the wild animals that wandered past the perimeter. And yet, here he sat with Leonie, smiling and awake, her being seeming to emanate something that was not calm. The company might do them both good.

”It is late,” he said. He did not try to define late or early; the meaning would be clear. For her, it was late. For most mortals, it was late.

”If there is something on your mind, I am happy to listen,” Alaric said. Where Leonie seemed to be buzzing with frenetic energy, Alaric was calm, his body relaxed, the fire dancing in eyes that were neither tired nor perpetually awake. They were deep, and old, and kind. He and Leonie were good at talking to each other about things – she had been his sounding board when he had met Anna, now gone. And he had listened when she expressed concerns about her family, about her usefulness. He still worried that she did not think herself good enough. A doubt, he hoped, that would be assuaged with time.

[Leonie von der Marck]

She gave a nod to the elder’s statement. It was true, even if the Lioness sometimes struggled with a regular routine and, as a result, a normal bedtime. It had been a rarer thing for some time, but for some reason, the last week or so had her stomach in knots and sleep a seriously elusive state. Leonie had merely chalked it up to the recent events in her life and the changes they would bring. All good ones, to be sure, but the dark-haired woman was a capricious creature and not one for planning. She’d been famous for refusing to RSVP, instead letting her whims guide her and her choices in her young adulthood. Leonie had loved nothing more than to be shocking and random and unpredictable and it had to be said that old habits, even ones made by design rather than nature, died hard deaths. And so the prospect of planning a wedding, even the small and relaxed affair she had in mind, had her brain whirling with details.

The gown she’d chosen was simple, sweet, modest, and very feminine. Not at all the modern, chic, edgy fashion statement she’d always imagined. Harsh, unforgiving cuts had been replaced with softer, lacy details and a flattering empire waist. Which was an excellent thing, because though Leonie had remained her same size from high school forward, there were days of late that had her feeling slightly whale-ish. It was a strange thought, but the Lioness simply assumed she’d been less vigilant about fitness and practically starving herself and more into living life fully and well. She could stand an extra few pounds or so.

All of that and more rippled through her mind as she settled more into the seat. She was exhausted, physically, but there was an almost frenetic activity still in the back of her mind as she smiled at the elder von der Marck.

“Nothing specific... but there’s so much to plan still, even for the small event I have in mind. I haven’t told my parents yet, and... I just don’t know, Alaric. I almost don’t want them here. Its a lot to think about.” She sighed and stared at the fire, the dancing flames helping distract her a bit as she tried, again, to think of the best way to tell them what she and Lou had planned. Her mother would have an absolute conniption over the intimate and relaxed gathering her daughter wanted - already a compromise to the judge she had initially requested - and that was more than enough reason for the Lioness, but it still didn’t reconcile the desire to keep them all far and away. Leonie had more money than almost the entire world combined, easily at her disposal, yet she could only think how much a large, glitzy affair would detract from and cheapen the so-important meaning of the ritual she wanted, so badly, to create right then and there. She was marrying the man of the dreams she’d never known she had until recently, and she knew well, already, just how much he meant to her. She fully expected - and wanted - to marry him in comfortable clothing and surroundings, in a day full of love and life and sweetness. Everything else was superfluous and unnecessary.

She turned to look at the elder of their family, an impossibly old patriarch she had never even imagined meeting just a year and a few short months ago and yet, there they were. His advice, his opinions, anything he had to say was and always had been so vital to the likes of the Lioness. This would be no different; Alaric was no stranger to the nuances of family life and the conflicts it could create.

[Alaric von der Marck]

Alaric was indeed aware of the nuances that went into family life – especially one as large as the von der Marck clan. In such a large family it wasn’t just small squabbles, either. There was politics to consider, the kind of politics that could have been rife in Ancient Rome. So long as no knives were planted ceremoniously into backs, Alaric was happy to allow the family to sort it out between themselves, only stepping in when a situation was set to get out of hand. In this situation, however, he was out of his depth.

Not only was he four centuries old, but he was also male. Although it had been in his hands to organise his and Anja’s wedding, it wasn’t as complex as he knew modern weddings to be. It was small, and they were married at the local church. They barely knew each other when they were married; they did not love each other. They grew to love each other, however, the match a lucky one. And he’d met no one like her since. Both their families had attended. There’d been a party in their back yard. A day time affair, like all weddings ought to be. Weddings ought to be blessed by the loving, warm rays of the sun.

He expected Leonie and Louvel’s to be no different.

Also aware of Leonie’s relationship with her immediate family, Alaric could not tell her that it was only proper for her parents to attend – for her father to give her away. Were those traditions outdated? Did the modern, independent woman consider herself above being ‘given’ away? Questions he would not ask, as yet.

”Family is important,” he said, finally. ”They are your parents. They will not live forever. One day, you may mend your bridges, and you may regret their lack of presence at your wedding. I think, plan it. Organise it. Tell them only when it is finalised, and it cannot be changed,” he said.

”If Louvel is what will make you happy, then their presence will not make you unhappy. Happiness will always outweigh unhappiness, if happiness is at hand,” he pondered out loud.

[Leonie von der Marck]

The woman listened quietly and maintained her silence for a few long beats after he finished his musings, the words as melodic and softly accented as ever. And as she let them roll through her mind, they eventually settled. With the exception of her mother, he was right. He was almost always right.

“That’s an excellent way to handle it, I think, and it sounds so easy when you say it. I want it to be so simple and quiet… an evening thing because we want you there more than anything. But… you know… with my ehhhmmm… mother, its never that easy.” She heaved a slight sigh. She hated referring to Lena as her mother, but it was hard to curb, too. “She will want the huge party, the ridiculous, over-the-top to-do to show off to all of her friends and the leeches she likes hanging around. And my father is a weak man and will let her do whatever she wants to keep her happy. Its always been that way. She’ll pitch a fit until she gets what she wants.” She nipped at her lower lip, settling back in the seat, unable for once to get comfortable. “It doesn’t bode well, I guess… so I’m hesitant to tell any of them anything. Maybe, if I’m ever as old as you, or have enough experience to guide me, I might think like you do. But the truth is, she’s never been a good parent and she rejected me my entire life as I reject her now. I can't see ever regretting not having her here, nor my father and grandfather, because they cave in to her whenever she pushes for something. We... my brother, sister, and I, have never been the priority for them and we never will be.”

The Lioness shrugged and propped her knees up, arms circling them loosely. The only thing missing from the familiar setting was a glass of wine, but for once Leonie wasn’t much enticed by the thought, even if it would help her sleep.

“Louvel makes me extremely happy… and I can only hope I do the same for him. I try. But my worry extends more toward Lena ruining what we plan, and doing her best to wreck what we want because it is not what she wants. He’s too good. Too good for me and too good to tell her off, I think. He’s got his limits, I know, but I would hate for him to curb those in favor of being respectful to that horrible excuse for a mother. She doesn’t deserve it.”

[Alaric von der Marck]

It took Alaric a good half minute to process everything Leonie had said – the elder was somewhat distracted. When focusing on Leonie, he was not only focusing on her words. Yes, he listened, but not only to what Leonie was saying. And even while she talked, the elder shifted position so that he could sit closer to Leonie, so that the crackling of the fire and the breeze shuffling at the nearby trees didn’t hinder what he was trying to search for, a string that he was trying to pull.

”It is easy,” he said, distractedly. ”She has met me. If you will need an excuse, tell her that I do not like crowds. Or strangers,” he said. It wasn’t a lie. It was an honest excuse. ”Though it should not be needed. It is your wedding. You will say no, and she will listen,” he said. There was a point at which children flew a coop, and they could do what they liked. Parents no longer could tell them what they could not do, or what they had to do. Alaric was lucky in his life, when his children were still alive – they forgave him. They understood him. They listened to him – they kindly offered their own advice, but they listened when it was required.

”Louvel is strong. He is different from your father and grandfather. She will not be able to change him,” he said. He was leaning closer to Leonie, strangely so. ”Children, yes, they are a priority. And you will be priority to Louvel, not your parents. It is… a possibility, that you could one day be as old as me but I do not think…” he sighed, and shook his head. He reached out and, without asking, too curious, splayed his fingers over Leonie’s abdomen. A frown creased his brow – one of concentration.

It took him a few long seconds to realise what he was doing before his eyes lifted to Leonie’s face, and he pulled his hand away, settling back into a respectable distance.

[Leonie von der Marck]

Sometimes, the Lioness had to smile at how cut-and-dried Alaric made things out to be. While he had gifts, unimaginable degrees of ability to discern the things that made people tick, she was unconvinced that he had so much as breached the surface of the hot mess that was Lena von der Marck. Leonie was quite certain it would take more than the excuse of a Patriarch who disliked crowds to curb her. There was no way in hell Lena would listen to the likes of herself, either, unless she could somehow wheedle her father or grandfather to her side.

A soft sigh took her; there was little use in arguing with Alaric, no matter his distracted state. “Yes… Louvel is strong. Maybe he’ll be the key to keeping them at bay, but I don’t want to put him in that position, either,” she agreed, partially anyway. Her head tipped slightly to one side; he was acting strangely, more than a little preoccupied. And far more than usual. A brow rose, though, as he spoke words that gave her pause.

“A possibility?” she finally breathed, a sharp look to her gaze. She knew he’d been bandying the thought of offering some of them his gifts about, and knew that Louvel had been offered and accepted, in a vague, non-specific sort of way. Leonie wasn’t at all certain what she would say if the same offer was made to her, but she hadn’t been expecting round-about half-speak, either. Her brows drew together for a long moment, trying to understand. Her place in the complicated web of von der Marck was not defined, and certainly her family’s place had never been a permanent thing in the old rituals. They had been mere placeholders, the priests that brought the ritual to a head - and not without casualties - until Alaric could step back into his rightful place. Because of this among other reasons, she had never considered anything more for or of herself, but she found it odd that Alaric would have such a talk with Lou and not with her, all considering. Maybe he hadn’t taken them seriously; perhaps she had, as always, come up wanting and lacking in something necessary that would allow Louvel to leave her far behind when the time came. Ultimately, she didn’t know, and could scarcely guess, but then…

Then…

She sucked in another breath, her features reflecting the shockwave she felt on the inside at his bold move. But the father she saw in him, the all-knowing, all-encompassing parent she’d always wanted, showed briefly in the look of concentration upon his face as his hand stayed there, cool, upon her middle. Even as he pulled away, her gaze did not move from his face.

“Wh… what are you doing?” she finally asked, almost lamely. It was so unlike him, and while not an unwelcome touch, she couldn’t really accept the unanticipated move without some explanation. The puzzle must have been written all over her features, but Leonie, finally able to move again, shifted uncomfortably in her seat once more, with questions pouring from her sharp hazel gaze all the while.

[Alaric von der Marck]

Yes, Louvel was strong. There were things that Alaric could have said to keep them at bay, too – he was not a doormat, or a relic, or some museum artefact kept cordoned off and away from sticky fingers. He was not a thing only to be looked at – he was an immortal, he was their elder. He had centuries over every single one of them and though he was aware and respectful of their independence, if there was something he was against, something he did not agree with, he would put his foot down. He could, and would show them that they had not brought him back for nothing. Thankfully, none of them had yet given him a reason to pull that kind of rank – not yet, anyway. There was one scenario he was keeping an eye on, one which he hoped would not lead to alienation of one of his descendants. Alaric did not act on a whim, and it was a situation he would handle with time.

If Leonie required help pulling her mother into line, Alaric was almost certain that he could make it happen. He had powers that could drill directly into her mind; he could skew her dreams. He could pick at her memories; he could call her out on her failures. If they needed someone to stand ground against Lena, Alaric had no qualms. She was but a woman, and he did not need protection from her.

This, however, took a back seat – for the moment. There were more pressing matters at hand, and judging by the expression on Leonie’s face, the tone of her voice, she would not allow a meandering off subject. Alaric cleared his throat and nodded.

”A possibility,” he said, holding Leonie’s gaze.

”It is something I was going to speak with you about. You went to Germany. You came back, and you announced your engagement. I did not think the time was right,” he said. Leonie would have enough to worry about without also putting the idea of immortality in her mind. To Alaric, these things did not need to be rushed. Time did not exist for him anymore; to wait until after their marriage would have made no difference. ”A possibility, because your acceptance was not guaranteed, nor my willingness to allow such sacrifices when perhaps the family, as a whole, is not yet ready,” he said, slowly. He had a point, and he was slowly getting to it.

”A possibility because marriage most often is committed to because one seeks a family. And I can see, now, that is what you have planned,” he said, peering at Leonie curiously. ”Unless it is not something you yet know. A revelation I am not sure what to think of, if it is the case. Whatever your plans regarding marriage, you will need to make them happen soon. Or in nine months. Or, make sure that your dress can be altered. You are with child, Leonie,” he said.

[Leonie von der Marck]

The woman sat quietly as Alaric began, no matter the stunned sensation of the unexpected touch now removed; he thankfully hadn’t gotten more into the subject of her mother, in favor of her perhaps sharpish reaction to his statement as to the future. But he didn’t know - couldn’t, unless he was listening to thoughts she’d consciously filed away as recent memory - that Leonie hadn’t ever wanted to bog him, or Lou, or anyone she loved, down in so much pettiness and chaos. That she worked, her entire adult life, to keep that woman away from anything and everyone she held dear and her wedding was the last place she wanted her. Leonie had been fully blindsided by Lena’s appearance at Christmas, and Lou had only been subjected to her presence because they hadn’t known her mother was back in residence in Germany; she had been so fickle and flighty Leonie’s entire life that the Lioness had long since stopped so much as guessing at the woman’s movements. It had been a painful, drawn-out lesson of her childhood and that particular thought had her sharp hazel gaze going stony. If it hadn’t been for Melba, Leonie was pretty damned sure she would have been far more stunted than she already was.

He was right, though; the thought came dancing across her mind again - at least in that the family was not ready for such a thing. Even the strongest parts of it were somewhat broken, perhaps not to be mended back into something whole again. Progress had been made there, it was true, but the Lioness has no way of knowing if more recent events might renew the rift, or keep those bonds from ever fully growing back. She dearly hoped they would be restored, though, that decisions based in deep feeling could be forgiven and accepted completely with time. She had always firmly believed people didn’t have much control over who they ended up falling for; the only control to be had, tenuous as it was, was whether or not to act on it. She had tried and succeeded the first time to deny her feelings and refrain from acting, but she refused to the second, no matter the complications that cropped up as a result.

And now here they were.

She nodded when he paused, but had to wonder just when was a good time for such an offer to be discussed, anyway? She wasn’t so egotistical or spoiled - not anymore - to consider getting married the center of her existence and she didn’t think it should preclude anything the elder had to say to her, either, but then again, that was not her decision to make. These thoughts and more rolled around her mind as he continued speaking. The future... planning a family. Well of course they had; wasn’t that part of the point of getting married, anyway? Neither had been living, she didn’t think, with the expectation of immortality coming at some vague point in the future. She and Louvel happily wanted the same things, it had turned out, and had set out to make at least that first step happ -

“Wait, what?!”

Her hand immediately flew to her abdomen, just below her navel as the feeling of her breath being stolen away overtook her and she could almost feel her skin go pale. Suddenly, the heat of the fire didn’t feel so good and she had to shove her chair back to catch the breeze just beyond, quickly, as she choked back the retch that threatened in her throat.

A hand clapped over her mouth as she recovered, slowly, and finally tried to speak again. “No, no no... that can’t be... we’ve been so care- oh, ****. ****, ****, ****,” she murmured from behind her fingers as the memory of the pre-emptive antibiotics she always took before commercial flights suddenly smacked her square.

“Holy ****,” she said again on a soft breath, eyes wide with shock and a strange, giddy feeling working it's way to the top before she shook herself and remembered who she was sitting with. “Sorry, sorry... um... no. I didn’t know.” She drew in a slow breath and swallowed hard, her hand still firm against her middle. “Is... is it h-healthy?” It was the first thought that came to mind as another memory, this one of the copious amounts of wine and slightly harder liquor required for suffering her mother’s presence that had been consumed, quietly surfaced. And then, with the ever-present knowledge of the yet-uncontrollable fire within, “and safe?” Her gaze moved back to his face, certain worry and fear were written all over her features, but unable to help either. She wasn’t one for panic attacks, but she could feel her chest tightening ever so slightly with each breath drawn as her free hand curled tightly enough for nails to dig into palm and bring forth blood.