Partial Immersion [Alaric]

[Leonie von der Marck]

One Week Post-Resurrection

Leonie closed the front door of the manor behind her as she slipped back inside, a deep breath taken as she leaned against it for what seemed a very long time. In reality, it was only the space of a few heartbeats as she gathered her thoughts and made the conscious effort of speaking only German again once back inside. Though it was the language of her childhood, it sometimes felt rusty, or perhaps it was simply because the dialect Alaric spoke was older, like him, and sometimes led to things already difficult to explain being even more lost in translation.

She slid the sunglasses from her face and into her handbag. A similar move was made with the silk scarf tied artfully around her head. Melba had been sent home for the first time ever – much to the woman’s worry and chagrin - and so Leonie gathered her own things up and made her way down the hall to where she’d been directed to most likely find the patriarch. Even though it was dark with the sun set already, Leonie’s notoriety had followed her to Harper Rock and being caught picking up a load of blood packs and other questionable items wouldn’t do her any favors. Especially in the current climate of the City.

The cousins had been taking turns staying with Alaric, ensuring his safety as they helped acclimate him to the changed City. Leonie had seen the pictures of what it once was; she couldn’t imagine the shock and sheer confusion he must be feeling each night as he sought to catch up on all he had missed and all he needed to know. It had been decided earlier to continue speaking German and allow him to learn English in his own good time.

She’d stopped in a few times during the week to help as the others and she took their turns grieving Gregor and tending the fresh grave out in the family cemetery, but tonight it was her turn to be on her own with the vampire, to get to know him as much as she could in the time she would spend there. She was perhaps one of few who had no responsibilities to think about and so she’d offered to stay indefinitely. It was something she’d thought on more than once, the time she had available to spend with him and had realized, almost instantly that she wanted to spend it with him; the only apprehension she felt was that underlying current of anxiety that he’d find her, them, all of it, so very disappointing. It was little wonder if he did, she thought with a slight edge of self-conscious bitterness. She after all hadn’t ever amounted to very much. But she was there, she’d done the unthinkable only a week prior, and she would stay as long as needed or wanted.

And so, the dark-haired woman slid out of her light jacket, draped it over her arm, and made her way down to the library, where she was sure to find him soaking up every bit of information available to him. The fire would already be built up despite the heat wave in the City; thankfully the central air had been installed years ago and would combat some of the extra warmth. Every light would be blazing: electric, gas and candlelight all. But after two centuries in darkness, Leonie could hardly blame him for wanting to surround himself with light.

With another deep, bracing breath, she knocked softly even though the door was open, and waited for the approval to enter.

[Alaric von der Marck]

Alaric von der Marck eased between violent restlessness and eerie calm. When he woke up he wasted no time in ridding himself of the bed with its soft mattress and softer sheets. In the light of the dying fire he pulled on what clothes he could find – which happened to be a pair of track pants and a button-up, crisp white t-shirt that was more suited to cocktail parties than to a pair of track pants. But Alaric wasn’t yet au fait with modern clothing. In the very least, he was properly covered which was all that he was trying to achieve.

Bare feet padded out through the halls, hall rugs having been put down in his absence to shield one’s feet from the bitter cold of stone. It was a good addition. Alaric had no idea where he was going, except that he knew he wanted to be out of the dungeon and up in the light. He was headed toward the courtyard when a door to his left caught his attention. The inside of the room was warmly lit – though the warmth got bright as Alaric came through, searching for those magical switches on the walls to turn on as many lights as he could find.

The walls were covered head to foot in shelves of books. The spiral staircase to the back of the room led up to a second floor of books. Alaric remembered this room. He remembered sitting on that very armchair, the leather now cracked from time and use, while he read the books sent to him from Germany. Would those books still be here? Or had they all been replaced with something more modern, in a language he didn’t understand? He regretted, now, never having learned English before. Now he wondered whether it might be too hard, too difficult. What if the wiring in his brain had rusted and broken, so that he could learn nothing new?

Surely not.

He hadn’t picked any of the books from the shelves when he heard the knock on the door. His fingers trailed the spines, slowly looking for something familiar. He glanced up from his search, gaze alighting upon Leonie. He smiled lightly and gestured to one of the couches; he himself dropped into the armchair, despite the way the cracks scratched at his skin. It still felt like home.

“So viel hat sich nicht geändert ...“ he murmured, eyes sharp as he watched Leonie’s movements.

TRANSLATION: *“So much hasn’t changed...“

[Leonie von der Marck]

Leonie watched his fingers sliding over the spines of the many tomes that lined the shelves before she slipped inside the library, a smile playing on her lips that she’d guessed correctly that evening and that the whereabouts of the Patriarch hadn’t sent her on a wild goose chase. So far, from what she understood, he’d been mostly consistent. She wasn’t certain what else they had expected, though.

The week had been long and fraught with layers upon layers of emotions, stress, fear, and worry on all their parts and though the Lioness wasn’t usually one to be so affected, she found the longer she spent with her family in their ancestral home, the more she was beginning to, well, feel again. It was, to be honest, freaking her out as the numbness and coldness slowly slipped from her, like an old security blanket she should have outgrown ages ago. But until that last week, she hadn’t had much reason to let it go. It was almost unnerving to know it wasn’t actually her way, after all, despite almost fifteen years of deciding not to feel, to care, to do anything further than ensure her own pleasure and amusement.

But it had been an almost hollow existence, she was seeing now. Creating drama and family scandals and partying her way through life didn’t add up to very much and though there had been a sort of allure to it, an addiction, looking in from the outside showed her how empty it was. Somehow, though, Judah had seen through it. Had seen it and remembered from back in their childhood who she had been, the long nights of drinking and laughing and soaking up every drop of the time allotted them during the yearly gatherings that still occurred, more as family reunions than anything else in those days.

Her smile faltered slightly then; things would never be the same as those nights. She couldn’t know his thoughts, but Leonie was fairly certain Jude thought he’d paid a terrible price for the success of the ritual. The woman couldn’t blame him for that, but there was some hard realist in her that whispered that Gregor had chosen the path he did and it was not something any of them could have anticipated or stopped. It was devastating and terribly sad, but in the end it had been his choice, no one else’s, and it was to be respected. Something in her had toughened up that night and decided that Alaric’s safety was the only priority now, past the grief, past the horror, past the pain. They had to protect everything they’d worked for, and everything Gregor had sacrificed for, no matter what had happened.

The gentle pat upon the sofa near to the old and worn leather armchair drew her attention back to the man himself. Leonie hadn’t known what to expect, still wasn’t so sure they’d so much as get along. She could be brash and brazen, blunt and downright bitchy. But she was also respectful of her blood in general, which had already spilled over to and flooded her opinion of him and even she was aware there was a certain sense of awe that came with being in Alaric’s presence. Beyond his pleasing physical appearance, there was so much there behind his eyes and the Lioness for one was beyond curious to know him. Having proper time to wrap her head around his existence was only likely to see that grow.

She seated herself on the sofa with a renewed smile, aware in the back of her mind that she had to put the blood packs away sooner rather than later. There were plenty in the house already but there was no sense in wasting any. Though he’d been ravenous, Alaric hadn’t been the feral monster she’d initially worried about, before they began the ritual, but he needed all he could get if his strength was to return to what it had once been.

She gently cleared her throat and settled her handbag and the paper bags she’d brought there upon the floor. “Ich weiß, dass sie ... wir ... äh ... die Familie, die versucht, die Dinge zu halten, wie siefür Sie waren. Zusammen mit einigen modernen Annehmlichkeiten,“ she replied softly. It was true, too. They’d left so much in the manor alone and intact, only allowing for things like the central air and heating, electricity to supplement the gas and oil and candles, carpet runners on the old stone floors, and other small details that kept the house running smoothly while preserving the air and feel of it. One could still enter the house and be instantly transported back to the seventeen and eighteen hundreds, just as the family had somehow, collectively, decided for all those years. “Suchen Sie für Ihre Bücher? Sie wurden nach oben, vor einigen Jahren zu einem Gewölbe bewegt.“

There was so much she wanted to know about him, wanted to learn, but she had no idea where to begin. Awkward was not something in Leonie’s vocabulary, though, so she settled back in the seat and crossed her denim-clad legs, her fingers stealing idly around the pendant she hadn’t removed since the night he’d risen.

Translation:

“I know they... we... um, the family, tried, to keep things like they were for you. Along with some more modern conveniences.”
“Are you looking for your books? They were moved to a vault upstairs, years ago.”

[Alaric von der Marck]

The elder’s sharp blue eyes watched the younger with eager curiosity. This new world was so very overwhelming, but he had hands waiting to catch him if ever he stumbled. It filled him with undeniable pride, to think that he’d somehow managed to pull it off. As distant as they all might be, now, as far-flung and scattered, they were still here. The Estate was still here. Everything that he had worked so hard for, everything that he had sacrificed hadn’t been for naught.

The woman who sat before him was a product of his hard work. Again, he searched her features and picked out all the familiarities; flashes of other faces passed through his mind, memories of descendants from centuries past. It was as if he could trace her all the way back to her origin, as if he could pick exactly which of his son’s bloodlines she was a product of. It saddened him, briefly, that he hadn’t had the foresight to turn at least one of them, to keep them with him. But would they have wanted it? None had asked, none had been so inclined. And would they have been guaranteed passage back to this world? Would this fresh, young blood be willing to make another sacrifice in order to bring back another?

But there was no other. It was only Alaric, and he would ask no such thing of them.

His mind touched briefly against Leonie’s; from that touch he got a vague sense of her strengths and weaknesses. If he so wished, he could fish through her recent memories, too. But he kept his sticky mental fingers to himself and told himself he had to respect the privacy of others. Discovering one’s strengths and weaknesses couldn’t really give him the measure of a person, however – and, realising he had sat still and staring for far too long, he suddenly blinked, and twitched his stationary limbs.

Leonie confirmed that the family had kept the house as it was. He had already been informed about the yearly gatherings, and about the failed attempts. Although he felt like he’d come far too late to the party, he was still grateful to them. And more than a little proud. Now he could only hope that he would not fail them. His mind was rusty, and the culture had changed drastically. How could he lead when he was so behind? How could he prove to be a strong leader if he was afraid of the dark, and if he was wary of travelling into the city, with all its noise and all its bright lights? It explained, to some extent, why he had been distracted by the library.

“Bücher sind für das Lernen. Ich war nicht auf der Suche für meine Bücher . Ich habe schon gelesen ihnen. Ich war auf der Suche nach neuen Bücher , so kann ich die letzten zwei Jahrhunderte erfahren,“ he said, glancing over his shoulder and up again to the books. Again, he fell into a kind of still silence, distracted by the colours, the warmth of them, the light, and the scent of the aging pages. Again, he sucked in a breath, filling his lungs with oxygen if only to remember that he was alive.

”Sind sie alle auf Englisch?“ he asked, hopefully. Not that they were in English, but hoping that they had kept up the habit of ordering in German.

TRANSLATION: * “Books are for learning. I wasn't looking for my books. I have already read them. I was looking for new books, so I can learn the last two centuries.”
** “Are they all in English?”

[Leonie von der Marck]

A slight, involuntary shiver ran down Leonie’s spine, her breath stolen away, as if ghostly fingers had brushed someplace inside her head she couldn’t quite place, sending an odd little thrill throughout her entire body. She couldn’t call it a violation, more an almost automatic sort of extra sense reaching out, she supposed, and all at once she knew it had to have come from him. She wasn’t versed enough in all her latent abilities yet, but she knew when something otherworldly had touched her. Ever since the night they’d raised him, those sensations had grown eerily more frequent and for once, Leonie wasn’t seeking to tamp it all back down and ignore it. Her brows raised slightly as she turned more fully to face him, a hand resting under her chin as she leaned on the arm of the sofa, hazel eyes locked upon him with a questioning look before he moved on to the subject, once more, of the many tomes.

Her attention turned back to the library for a moment and she nodded, half in understanding, half in answer, because one thing Leonie did often was re-read her favorites… when she had time. For her, it was a welcome break to read whatever she could get her hands upon, and if she learned something, so much the better, but it was never her primary objective. “Ich finde sie für Freizeit und Vergnügen sind, zu,“ she said with a smile, before scanning the walls, “aber es gibt viele in der deutschen hier irgendwo ... Ich denke, Louvel oder Jude erwähnt, dass zu einem bestimmten Zeitpunkt oder ein anderes...“ The question was, where, exactly? She stood a moment, looking around before her gaze landed upon one of the many indexes kept about and she went to pick it up from a nearby desk. A quick flick through the pages told her where the German tomes were located and she settled back in her seat. “Sie sollen sechzehn bis zwanzig in Stapeln sein.“

With those questions answered, though she worried he would be disappointed there wasn’t a greater selection for him to browse, her thoughts turned back to the strange caress against her mind and what had prompted him to do such a thing. Her gaze honed in upon his face once more, the bright blue eyes seeming hopeful, and as curious as she felt. She tucked an errant lock of dark hair behind her ear.

“Können alle sie dies tun?” She wasn’t quite sure what ‘this’ was as she tapped the side of her head, vaguely, but it was a strange sensation and one she instinctively felt to be an attempt at knowing her as much as she wanted to know him, everything he might share. Though her breaths had returned to their normal steady measure, she was suddenly far too inquisitive about it all, with little care if she was bordering on rude with any of her questions. Now that she knew them to be real, Leonie was also even hungrier for knowledge about vampires in general than she thought possible, perhaps only sharpened by the fact that one was sitting there before her. One related to her by blood, no less. Maybe even more common blood than he might think, for she’d taken the liberty of examining Jude’s work on the family tree and found more than one cousin had intermarried into Jorge’s lineage, with enough dilution to keep things interesting. “Denken Sie an mich als ein offenes Buch, Alaric. Ich bin glücklich, Ihnen zu sagen, oder zeigen Sie, was Sie wissen möchten. Ich weiß nicht so viel über die Familie als Juda oder Louvel, aber ich weiß genug über meinen eigenen Teil davon.” She cleared her throat gently, all at once slightly shy. Leonie, shy. Who would have ever thought to see the day?

“Ich möchte Sie zu wissen, zu.”

She let that statement settle in the air between them, uncertain how he might take her blunt, direct sort of approach to pretty much all things in life. She wasn't even certain how she might mean such a thing, but it didn't exactly matter in the moment. There was far too much jumbling in her head - questions, worries, hopes, thoughts of all the abilities she'd all but stamped out and what they might have been - at that precise moment to distill intention down to anything more than a face value.

Translation:
“I find they're for leisure and pleasure, too,”
“but there are many in German here somewhere... I think Louvel or Jude mentioned that at some time or another”
“They should be in stacks sixteen through twenty”
“Can all of you do this?”
“Think of me as an open book, Alaric. I'm happy to tell you, or show you, anything you wish to know. I don't know as much about the family as Judah or Louvel, but I know enough about my own part of it… “
“I want to know you, too.”

[Alaric von der Marck]

The dialect was different, Alaric was certain. Before, he wondered whether his brain had yet to re-wire probably. He’d waited for the rust to fall away, the flakes to settle. And yet, he wondered whether he’d ever be settled again. Everything was so different. Sitting here in this library, which was so familiar in so many ways, was disconcerting in many others. The new books, and the lights that buzzed overhead. Electricity was a blessing given the terror that Alaric had recently become aware of, but it was also something he was constantly aware of. Even when his room was lit only by the light of the fire, he could still hear it, that incessant buzz. When he closed his eyes and let his thoughts slip away, modernity started to creep in.

He was glad for Leonie’s presence. He was glad for anyone’s presence. It distracted him from the things his mind got up to when he wasn’t looking. It had never wandered so much as it did now, like it was a dog who saw a new toy in the distance, and who was not obedient enough to always do as it was told. Somehow, Alaric knew that toy was something he didn’t want to mess with.

” Es tut mir leid,” he said, reining in his mind and forcing it to stay put, under lock and key.

” Es ist nicht etwas, das wir alle in der Lage sind. Ich bin, was sie ein Telepath nennen - ich Ihre Stärken und Schwächen erkennen kann, ich Ihre Erinnerungen sehen können. Ich wollte nicht zu hebeln, Ich kämpfe nur Dinge zu kontrollieren. Es ist eine Weile her. Dieser Körper ist mein, aber es fühlt sich wieder neu,” he said, rolling his shoulders, reminding himself to move. His feet were planted firmly on the ground and his fingers curled around the leather arms of the chair. As tempting as it was to wander into the stacks, he stayed where he was. There was an open book right in front of him – or so she had claimed – and it was better than the dusty old tomes he had left behind.

” Bitte, ja. Erzählen Sie mir über sich,” he said, his gaze resting upon his descendant. He did not realise he was doing it again, staring in that unblinking way, his body still as a statue, his chest failing to rise and fall with the lungfuls of air that he did not need. In the beginning he’d breathed out of habit, but over the many, many years it was a habit that had eventually dropped away. Every now and again he sucked in the air to feel his chest expand, to remind himself that he inhabited a physical body. But more often than not, he forgot. Especially now, especially when everything was so outlandish, so different, as if this was still all some twisted dream.

And wasn’t that what he was afraid of? It wasn’t the dark, so much as he was terrified he’d wake up and still be dead.

TRANSLATION: * “I’m sorry.”
** “It is not something we are all capable of. I am what they call a telepath – I can sense your strengths and your weaknesses, I can see your memories. I did not mean to pry, I am just struggling to control it. It’s been a while. This body is mine, but it feels new again.”
*** “Please, yes. Tell me about yourself.”

[Leonie von der Marck]

Leonie smiled and gave a wave of her hand at his apology; in her mind, there was nothing to apologize for and if anything, her curiosity was even more piqued at the explanation as she gave a nod of understanding. “So die anderen ... können sie verschiedene Dinge tun?” That there could be others out there, or even the ones from his time, with different abilities than he… it was more than she knew what to do with at the moment. Especially in light of the things she already knew she had once been able to do. What else was out there that she’d never even considered before? What latent abilities could be tapped into with vampirism?

The von der Marck Lioness settled back in her seat on the surprisingly comfortable sofa and crossed her legs, her French manicured fingertips smoothing over the heavy velvet covering the arm. If it wasn’t still so new and strange, she would have found amusement in the way he could be so statuesque where she, and other humans, were a constant flux of movement and energy. Besides not needing to breath, she often wondered now what other physiological changes came with vampirism. She supposed if it wasn’t too rude, she would have to ask him at some point.

But he’d taken the sort of bait she’d offered up and seemed genuinely curious to know about her, rather than the detached kind of polite interest she so often portrayed in social settings. She reminded herself, for the umpteenth time, that this was a man who had missed two hundred years. Not only did he have the modern world to get to know, but the family that had grown in his absence. It was only natural he might want to start with the very people who had raised him from the dark Beyond. Still, she cleared her throat, slightly hesitant. She would tell him anything he wanted to know, would answer every question, but that persistent, nagging worry that he would find her a great disappointment would not leave her.

“Äh... ich bin achtundzwanzig. Mein Vater ist Oskar, und mein Großvater ist Falken. Sie sind bestrebt, Sie zu treffen. Mein Zweig der Familie direkt abstammen aus, äh ... Ihr Sohn, Jorge,” she began, though it occurred to the woman that he wanted to know more than the basic details that made up her background. “Ich, äh ... ich nicht viel tun, wirklich, nicht zu rechtfertigen, hier zu sein. Ich bin immer noch irgendwie ... verwirrt, nehme ich an ... dass Juda dachte mir im Ritual in ... aufzunehmen. Aber, äh, weiß, dass er ein paar Dinge über mich, dass ich glaube, er dachte, würde helfen. Das Ritual nicht ... es hat nicht nur zurück bringen. Es Art von ... Art erwachte etwas, hier oben,” she said, tapping the side of her head again with a vague half-smile. Maybe he would know more about it than she, but things had certainly been different from the night they all tapped into one another’s energy to bring their Patriarch home. “Meine Linie ... meine Linie hielt die Hohenpriester , bis Markus von der Marck starb plötzlich im Jahre 1872. Er nicht Instruktionen für seinen ungeborenen Sohn abgegeben, und das ... das ... verursachte den Anfang vom Ende. Die Familie ... noch traf, versuchte jeder noch unter diesem Dach einmal im Jahr zu bringen, aber es wurde immer von einer Wiedervereinigung als eine Mühe, die Sie zu erhöhen, weil ... weil niemand wusste, wie es zu tun. Das Ritual war vergessen, es bei uns keine Rechte Passage für das begabte waren. Als ich geboren wurde, war es nicht viel mehr als ein Vorwand, zusammen einmal in eine Weile zu bekommen. Wir alle Art von ... Art trieb.”

She trailed off for a moment, almost surprised she knew so much. Far more than she thought she did, but try as she might to paint an ignorant, ditzy picture to her adoring public, Leonie was no fool. She was shrewd, intelligent, capable when she put in the effort. And apparently retained a lot more than she’d bargained from the various stories and what she had learned in only the last week alone. Oskar had sent documents from his and Falken’s vaults, things she held onto and studied in her spare time though they were meant for Jude to add to the growing pile he was accumulating. When she had time to sit with her cousin, when he was slightly less occupied with grief and ready to be social once more, she would give him the additional items then. She reigned her thoughts back in, though, in favor of studying the man before her before she started speaking once more.

“Der Familienname ... es Befehle immer noch sehr viel Respekt, zumindest in meiner Erfahrung. Reichtum ist reichlich in den meisten Zweigen des Baumes und ich ähm ... Ich spende viel für wohltätige Zwecke, aber ... äh. Nicht viele Leute wissen, dass.” She trailed off again, uncertain why she was rambling so much, or adding in random details that were unlikely to interest him. It wasn’t like her at all, and for the first time in perhaps ever, Leonie felt quite unable to gloss over anything more than the most secret or intimate details of her life. Almost nervously, she re-crossed her legs and shifted slightly in her seat. Vulnerability wasn’t her strong suit, not at all, so she decided to try something else.

“Es tut mir leid, ich bin Wanderungen. Bitte, sagen Sie mir, was Sie wissen möchten. Über mich, über die Familie, alles.” She smiled softly, completely unsure what might interest him to know, and not wanting to bore or otherwise offend the man out of time, out of that time specifically, where oversharing was an art-form.

Translation: “So the others... they could do different things?”

“Um... I'm twenty eight. My father is Oskar, and my grandfather is Falken. They are anxious to meet you. My branch of the family is directly descended from, er... your son, Jorge.”

“I, um... I don't do much, really, not to warrant being here. I'm still kind of... baffled, I suppose... that Judah thought to include me in... in the ritual. But, um, he knows some things about me that I guess he thought would help. The ritual didn't... it didn't just bring you back. It sort of... sort of woke something up, up here.”

“My line... my line held the High Priest until Markus von der Marck died suddenly in 1872. He didn't leave instructions for his unborn son, and that... that ... caused the beginning of the end. The family... still met, still tried to bring everyone under this roof once a year, but it became more of a reunion than an effort to raise you because... because no one knew how to do it. The ritual was forgotten, there were no rights of passage for the gifted among us. By the time I was born, it wasn't much more than an excuse to get together once in awhile. We all sort of... sort of drifted.”

“The family name... it still commands a great deal of respect, at least in my experience. Wealth is abundant in most branches of the tree and I um... I donate a lot to charity, but... um. Not many people know that.”

“I'm sorry, I'm rambling. Please, tell me what you would like to know. About me, about the family, anything.”

[Alaric von der Marck]

Alaric peered at Leonie, his gaze penetrating for more reasons than one. He was, first and foremost, curious and interested in what she had to say. But also he was debating on how to answer the questions asked. Two hundred years ago he had allowed a select few to know of his nature; they were the ones whose titles had been passed down through the ages, and yet they were titles that were never meant to be passed. They were titles that were meant to be kept, as they were the select few to whom Alaric would grant immortality.

And yet, the secret had passed. One of his own had betrayed him. One of his own had given in to the fear of the unknown and instead of embracing it, of respecting the family that he had been born into, he betrayed it. For what, Alaric did not know, though he could only assume that riches were involved. Or perhaps he judged too harshly. Perhaps threats were issued, torture dealt upon the betrayer that could not be withstood.

What of this age, and those who lived within it? Were they more accepting, and how should he distribute his secrets? Were they secrets anymore, or were they common knowledge? Not common enough, it would seem, that Leonie knew of them.

And yet neither was she ignorant. If he could not trust those who’d resurrected him, then who could he trust? Trust must be given in order to be reciprocated.

As unsure of herself as Leonie sounded, the information was consumed with avid interest. At the mention of ‘high priest’ Alaric twitched, a kind amused displeasure painted in the crease between his brows and the curved, pressed smirk on his lips. He made an effort, then, to move, to become less still. Leonie was sharing a history that Alaric could not have predicted, given how short of the mark he thought he had fallen. His plans had not quite come to fruition, and yet the groundwork that he had so thoroughly laid in preparation had kept the foundations of the family mostly intact. Of that he could be proud.

“Ich bin kein Gott, Priester keine Voraussetzung sind,“ he started.

“Ich bin gedemütigt auf das, was erreicht wurde. Driften spielt keine Rolle, ob es ein Anker noch angebracht . Dieses Anwesen ist der Anker, ist es nicht? Die Boote können nach Hause gebracht werden,“ he said, slowly. He continued to feel as if he were but a small vessel in a large ocean; before he died it was as if he though there as only the water and the horizon, but since his resurrection he had discovered the depths, and the universe above. And he was not alone. He did not feel like the anchor. These children would call him important, they would revere him as something special, and yet he was not the only one who had stood the test of time. The family was the anchor, this hub their home. He would not be here without them. Recalling this, he knew that trust and respect would be given.

”Die Titel wurden erst nach Annahme der Unsterblichkeit gegeben. Dass sie bestanden, nach unten ist ein Beweis für diese Stärke der Familie. Meine Pläne wurden nicht in vollem Umfang erreicht, vor meinem Tod. Ich bin mit Ehrfurcht erfüllt, hier zu sitzen , mit Ihnen zu sprechen. Was ich nicht erreichen verloren, obwohl ich es nicht allein erreicht haben,” he said, the words weighted. If the tradition was to continue, if the family was to grow in strength, to return to its former glory – though from what Leonie had said there was already glory enough in spades – he could not do it alone.

“Sag mir, was denkst du freigeschaltet wurde? Was haben Sie gefühlt, als das Ritual stattfand?” He was curious about what power Leonie might have, hidden or otherwise. As curious as he was about history, as much as he felt he had to catch up on, more urgently he felt the need to learn the strengths and weaknesses of those at his side.

TRANSLATION: * “I am not a God, priests are not a requirement.“
** “I am humbled at what has been achieved. Drifting does not matter if there is an anchor still attached. This estate is the anchor, is it not? The boats can be brought home.“
*** “I am humbled at what has been achieved. Drifting does not matter if there is an anchor still attached. This estate is the anchor, is it not? The boats can be brought home.“
**** “There are different abilities amongst our kind. Not all can do as I can, and I am not capable of everything that they are. Tell me, what do you think has been released? What did you feel when the ritual took place?”

[Leonie von der Marck]

The raven-haired Lioness had to suppress a smile, truth be told, she could well understand his incredulity at hearing he had been essentially relegated to deity-status. “Vielleicht glauben Sie nicht, dass sie notwendig, aber die Familie eine ganze Religion um Sie herum ... zumindest aufgebaut, das ist mein Verständnis. Und für das Ritual, gut. Es wurde eine Führungsrolle , eine, die als Platzhalter für die Nacht handelten Sie zurückgeschickt . Vielleicht ist es, warum Juda mich hatte es; mein Blut wurde auch gebraucht.” She looked up at him with a curious glint in her eye, wondering how he would take that news. She was certain Judah would fill him in better than she ever could, but for now she could give him what small details she knew.

“Sie waren zu der Hohepriester , Alaric zu sein. Der religiöse Aspekt zerfiel im Laufe der Jahre, aber der Platz war immer für dich bestimmt. Zumindest ist es das, was mein Vater mir erzählt hat.” Leonie let that settle between them for a moment before she continued. “Du hast recht; der Anker ist auf dem Anwesen in Teil, aber ... wenn wir trieben und obwohl das Ritual und die Zauberei starb mit Markus, es ist wirklich das Blut. Es gibt eine solche Hingabe in dieser Linie. Die Dinge, die in vielen von uns, und vor allem bei denen, die Sie angesprochen haben, sind Treue und Liebe und die schiere Hingabe einander, egal eingeflößt worden, wie die Dinge haben sich geändert.” She had to smile then, brightly enough. It was true, in so many ways she simply couldn’t put into words. And that made her proud beyond measure; no matter who she was and how recklessly she had lived her life. They had maintained a level of devotion and respect for one another that seemed surprising for such a sprawling empire.

She gave a nod as he spoke about the strength of the family, and the passing of the titles. It was intriguing to know, straight from the source, that the history and the intention recorded in the many documents had been accurate. And yet, it was even more intriguing and altogether awe-inspiring to have that very font back under his own roof to oversee and bring back to its former glory the family he had founded. “Es kann sein, was es einmal war, Alaric, und so vieles mehr. Gregor ... Gregor kann weg, Ihr Aegis, aber Louvel und Juda ... die drei von ihnen ... sind und waren alles, was Sie jemals gefragt haben könnte.” She smiled, though that faltered the slightest bit when he asked his first question of her.

The Lioness swallowed slightly and shifted in her seat, thinking how best to explain something she didn’t even come close to fully understanding. But she tried, because she had promised, and one thing Leonie did not ever do was go back on her word. ” Nun, das ... das ist. Ich weiß nicht einmal, wie es in Worte zu fassen. Als Mädchen, und später, ich konnte ... Ich konnte Dinge tun, mit meinem Kopf. Es erschreckt mich, und ich arbeitete sie beiseite zu setzen und sehr bemüht, es zu halten ruhend. Ich weiß immer noch, auch wenn die Dinge sind ... jetzt anders. Mein Vater ... war auf dem empfangenden Ende ein Teil davon, vor Jahren könnte man sagen. Ich wusste nicht, bis letzte Woche, dass er und mein Großvater gewartet hatte es für sich selbst zu sehen, dass niemand in unserem Teil der Linie, die die Fähigkeiten in Generationen gezeigt hatte, aber sie hatte vermutet, ich könnte. Wie auch immer ... Ich habe es allein für Alter und würde es nicht zugeben, obwohl ich Juda tat sagen ein paar Jahre zurück. Das ... das Ritual ... hat nicht die Fähigkeiten zurück gebracht und ich bin nicht sicher, ob sie überhaupt so, wie sie waren, werden wieder kommen, aber ich bin mehr ... perceptive an Energie um mich jetzt. Eine Art, ich denke, man es sich um eine Tür nennen könnte, in dieser Nacht geöffnet. Die Energie im Raum war unglaublich ... so intensiv ... und ich konnte die anderen fühlen und hören, auch wenn niemand mehr sprach als ein Choral. Ich denke ... Ich denke, die, warum ich nicht Gregor weinen in dieser Nacht. Ich konnte seine Absicht fühlen, und ich wollte nicht, es zu verbilligen.”

She trailed off then, lifting her sharp hazel gaze to the Patriarch’s, wondering what he might make of all of that. It was more than she had ever said about it before, but it was him. It was Alaric. And if there was anyone who might understand such strangeness or be able to explain it for her, it was him.

Translation:
* Perhaps you don't believe they're required, but the family built up quite a religion around you... at least, that's my understanding. And for the ritual, well. It became a leadership role, one that acted as a placeholder for the night you returned. Maybe that's why Judah had me there; my blood was needed too.

** You were meant to be the High Priest, Alaric. The religious aspect fell apart over the years, but the place was always meant for you. At least, that's what my father told me.

*** You're right; the anchor is in part due to the estate, but... though we drifted and though the ritual and the sorcery died with Markus, its really the blood. There is such devotion in this lineage. The things that have been instilled in many of us, and especially in those who raised you, are loyalty and love and sheer devotion to one another, no matter how things have changed.

**** It can be what it once was, Alaric, and so much more. Gregor... Gregor may be gone, your Aegis, but Louvel and Judah... the three of them... are and were everything you could have ever asked for.

***** Well that... that is. I don't even know how to put it into words. As a girl, and later on, I could... I could do things with my mind. It terrified me, and I worked to set it aside and tried very hard to keep it dormant. I still do, though things are... different now. My father... was on the receiving end of some of it, years ago, you could say. I didn't know until last week that he and my grandfather had been waiting to see it for themselves, that no one in our part of the line had shown the abilities in generations but they had suspected I might. Anyway... I left it alone for ages and wouldn't acknowledge it, though I did tell Judah a few years back. The... the ritual... hasn't brought the abilities back and I'm not sure they ever will come back the way they were, but I'm more... perceptive to energy around me now. Some sort of, I guess you might call it a door, opened that night. The energy in the room was incredible... so intense... and I could feel and hear the others, even when no one spoke more than a chant. I think... I think its why I didn't cry over Gregor that night. I could feel his intent and I didn't want to cheapen it.

[Alaric von der Marck]

The news could have filled Alaric’s ego. To think that a family had built up a kind-of religion in his honour, it could have filled his head with all kinds of ideas. It could have been enough for him to put himself on a pedestal, to treat them like he was some kind of despot. He could become the deity that they made him out to be. But the news did no such thing. Instead, it made him shift in his seat, the leather creaking beneath the extra weight – because that’s what it felt like. He no longer held the weight only of his body, his own flesh and bones, but of the expectations of a lineage.

The place was meant for him, she said – the role of High Priest. He shook his head, just a small twitch, but said nothing to interrupt Leonie. He would only speak once she had finished. It was only good manners to do so.

A smile touched Alaric’s lips. Yes, he liked to hear that they were all devoted to each other. Devotion to a name was only powerful if it wasn’t done for power. If it was done for the betterment of those owned that name – only then did it mean anything. Though it was good that the businesses had blossomed, that the family had money and safety because of it, the money was not what mattered. The extra weight on his shoulders shifted so that it sat comfortably.

They would come back. The family could and would gather again; they would flock and then drift away again. This family would be what it once had been. His plans had been put on hold for over two centuries, but that didn’t mean they still could not work. He already knew what he had to do. First and foremost, he had to solidify his plan. He was a man with nothing and yet he was a man with everything, and he had gifts to offer. And he would do so, at a later date.

Leonie explained what she had felt and Alaric nodded. The nod was heavy and knowing – he knew of the existence of sorcerers. It sounded very much like Leonie could be one. And the only advice he could give was to accept it, and to open herself to it. He leaned forward, his elbows resting upon his knees.

“Erstens bin ich kein Hohepriester. Ich bin ein Patriarch - und das ist das, was ich genannt werden soll. Bitte geben sie herum,” he said with a slight smirk, his features softening just that little bit.

“Gregor, ja - ich will einen Rat benötigen. In all den Jahren ist die eine Sache, die ich erfahren habe, dass ein Mann nicht auf seine eigenen führen kann. Er darf kein Tyrann, sondern ein Demokrat sein. Meine Familie ist mein Rat, und die Titel sind nur der nächste Schritt in der Pyramide. Ich werde eine Aegis benötigen,,” he said. Did they have a protocol in place already, or would he choose himself?

“Du aber – man,” he said, peering at Leonie carefully. He had instated only four titles, but he wondered, now, whether there should be one more. He would need to know more before he offered it.

“Sie haben einen magischen Geist, der nicht etwas zu ignorieren ist. Sie sagen, dass Sie es zurück glaube nicht kommen wird, aber haben Sie versucht? Geistige Fähigkeit ist ebenso wichtig wie körperliche Fähigkeit. Es ist ebenso wichtig wie Intelligenz,” he said with a finger to his temple. “Will you work with me? We will find out what you are capable of. The ritual that was done to bring me back is not the only ritual. There are others. And they are needed, as much as weapons and houses. What do you think?” he asked. If she did not think that she was up to it, then he would push no further.

TRANSLATION: * “First, I am not a high priest. I am a patriarch – and that is what I shall be called. Please, pass it around.”

** “Gregor, yes – I will need advice. In all my years the one thing that I did learn is that a man cannot lead on his own. He must not be a tyrant, but a democrat. My family is my council, and the titles are just the next step in the pyramid. I will need an Aegis.”

*** “You, however – you.”

**** “You have a magical spirit, which is not something to be ignored. You say that you do not think it will come back, but have you tried? Spiritual ability is as important as physical ability. It is as important as intelligence.”