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fellowshippers2007-02-28 12:04 pm
v-angelique.livejournal.com) wrote in fellowshippers2007-02-28 12:04 pm
Entry tags:
Fic: Semper Fidelis (new verse!)
Title: Semper Fidelis
Verse: Tangled Histories
Author: Viktoria Angelique (![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
v_angelique)
Pairing: Andy Serkis/Viggo Mortensen; Viggo Mortensen/Elijah Wood
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: AU. Vampires.
Disclaimer: If you think this is true, you must be smoking some really, really premium shit.
Verse notes: The Tangled Histories verse exists in a world where the existence of vampires is known and accepted, and a handful of vampire families make up somewhere between two and ten percent of the world population. In this verse, vampires are not affected by sunlight and there is no great universal conflict between mortals and immortal. Vampires generally only take human blood that is offered willingly, and there are plenty of humans willing to offer. They can only die from not feeding enough of perhaps a few other rare conditions. The most important things to these vampires are age, family, and respect. Various pairings will be explored in the verse, and stories may jump around the chronology, but I'm going to try to write so that they can be read as standalones. In other words, I'm trying to avoid a WIP series, and there's no telling how long it'll take me to tell these stories, but they'll appear sporadically and all be listed under the Tangled Histories heading in my fic index.
Summary: Andy takes a trip to see his American brother-in-blood.
A/N: If anyone wants to sign on as a beta for this verse, or just for one or two future stories in this verse, let me know. Pairings will be many many but if there's something you really don't want to read feel free to mention that.
He's never been much of a fan of flying. Not so bad as Sean, of course, who refuses to set foot in an airplane and therefore travels only by land or by sea, on his own two feet if he has to. But he doesn't like how slowly planes move, how trapped he feels by their metal frames. The nicer airlines offer a comfortable portioned-off chamber and a willing human for their vampire passengers to feed from on longer flights, $50 US a bite, but Andy's not too comforted by the pretty boy from whom he feeds, any more than he is by the Italian wine or the French cheese served on the way to New York. When he lands in LaGuardia, he bypasses the taxi queue and runs upstate, just to feel the air in his lungs and the wind in his hair. Two hours later, he's on Viggo's doorstep.
"Brother," Viggo greets him with a characteristic lopsided grin, a sudden hug that would crush his bones if he were mortal. But he's not, hasn't been in over a hundred and fifty years, and he takes the embrace in stride.
"Viggo. How are you?"
"Managing," his blood-brother replies with a dramatic sigh. Andy rolls his eyes and steps inside the cabin. Viggo's place is messy beyond being understandably eccentric; Andy gets a glob of blue paint on his shoe when he missteps and frowns at the cerulean stain.
"Bullshit. You love it out here."
"Better than old Blighty," Viggo teases, cracking open a beer from the living room's mini fridge and offering it to Andy. "They'll never get me to stay there with them, not in a hundred years."
"'S what they get from siring a Yank," Andy reasoned with a shrug, collapsing on the sofa and lifting the beer to his lips for a long, grateful pull. "How's Elijah?"
Viggo's face closes slightly, and of course he won't give anything but Andy can't be blamed for trying. "He's fine," he grunts, and that's all Andy's going to get. Elijah is there, of course, but Andy may or may not see him this visit. Viggo's entitled to his foibles, and keeping his pet locked away securely is one of the most prevalent.
"Are you hungry?" Viggo asks after an awkward moment. "If I'd known you were coming, I would've found someone…"
Andy waves him off with one hand and a snort. "Had someone on the plane. A bit of a limited satisfaction, but I'm good for a couple of days."
"I don't understand how you do it," Viggo replies with a shake of his head. "You've been one of us for how many years, now? And still you don't bother to sire a vampire, or claim a human…"
Andy gives him a warning look. "The way Alan tells it, after he turned you, you spent nearly two hundred years in the jungle. If I recall correctly, you'd only been back from South America twenty years when they found me…"
"All right, brother. I cede the point. Still, it must be awfully tedious for every feed you find to be just almost satisfying."
"It's enough to sate me," Andy argues. "I turn to family for comfort and compassion, and to mortals for blood. It's not so dreary a practice as you think."
"Andy. I don't mean to upset you," Viggo sighs, moving to the couch next to his brother in blood and tugging him close, hard enough that Andy can't be stubborn and resist. They are equals on some level, of the same generation, but there are many nuances to the levels of trust and power that vampires ascribe to age, and Viggo is older than Andy by a good two hundred years. When Viggo kisses his temple, Andy sighs and relaxes and feels more settled than he has since leaving London.
"They aren't all bad," Andy whispers, as though he's trying to convince himself. "The boys in London… some of them are sweet, even." In London, there's no difficulty finding a feed. There are hundreds, thousands of humans who are drawn to vampire-kind, and many of them gravitate to the bustle of the big city. Though these openly eager mortals are unlikely to ever find a sire or a master to make them pets, a number of clubs will interview prospectives for vampires to feed from--a meat market with as many options in price and quality as the London restaurant scene. Andy and Viggo's bloodline is strong, and their family is old and moneyed. He can afford the more expensive clubs, the most discreet, with boys who are old enough to know what they're doing, old enough not to ask for more than a vampire is willing to give or expect more from the encounter from a single bite. Still, he can't help but see Sean with Dominic or even Orli and Craig together and be jealous, sometimes.
"You'll find someone, Andy. If that's what you want," Viggo murmurs, his voice soothing in a way that reminds Andy of exotic locales, far away rainforests and bottomless caves, and then simultaneously of home. "And we'll always be here if you don't," he adds, a deeper layer of emotion hidden in his tone as he lowers his head, pulls gently at the thin skin just under Andy's chin with his dull front teeth. Andy shudders and clings, never embarrassed somehow with this level of neediness when it comes to Viggo or Sean, no matter how much he'd refuse to show it with anyone outside the family.
Viggo understands, and he presses more kisses to Andy's face, his neck, before he pulls back slightly and meets Andy's eyes. "You'll sleep?"
Andy nods. They don’t sleep the way mortals do, but the mind still benefits from rest, hours of stillness lending clarity and rejuvenation.
"I need to feed. I'll be with you in a few hours."
Viggo comes in late, maybe two in the morning. Andy abandons his safe, comfortable position, stretched out like a board, and curls tightly in towards his brother. Viggo's body surrounds him like a blanket, and he drifts again.
It's early when Andy hears sounds from down the hall, smells coffee. He starts to sit up, and Viggo tenses, half-alert and knowing why Andy rises, but he doesn't stop him. Andy completes the movement, slides out of bed, and pads down the ceramic-tiled hallway to the kitchen, the open plan of the one-level cabin letting in the early morning light.
Elijah is strangely beautiful, and as always Andy is struck by it. They are not dissimilar in age; Elijah was eighteen when Viggo claimed him (that being one of the few facts Andy actually does know about Elijah) and Andy was in his mid-thirties when he became a vampire, fifteen years after Elijah became a pet. Other than that, all Andy knows about Elijah is that Viggo found him after an intense period of darkness and depression, that Elijah was born on a plantation in North Carolina, and that Viggo calls Elijah his muse. No one really gets to see Elijah, even Viggo's sires, who would have the right by droit du seigneur but don't have the interest.
He is making strong coffee, for Viggo presumably who drinks it for the taste despite the lack of effect caffeine has on his nervous system. Andy nods in greeting, and Elijah looks at him a long minute before turning back to what he is doing, silent.
The paper is on the counter, and Andy's eyes scan it with a half-interest. It is Elijah he is interested in, the human thin and unearthly pale but healthy-looking nonetheless, a slight glow in his cheeks that Andy immediately attributes to the fact that his master fed the night previous. Pets get just as much out of a feeding as the master does, he knows, and Elijah is radiant despite his silence.
When Viggo enters the kitchen he kisses Elijah hard, possessive, reminding Andy of his claim as if it is necessary. For Viggo, Elijah is not just a pet, he is a muse, and there is something dangerous and deep between them that Andy does not dare scratch the surface of, even. Something insane crackles behind Viggo's eyes from time to time, and he is stronger than Andy.
Andy watches the kiss for a long moment, the seconds drawing the space between them thinner and thinner until he finally leaves the kitchen and retreats to the guest bedroom, his hand palming his cock as he curses and bites the inside of his cheek, just to taste blood.
Verse: Tangled Histories
Author: Viktoria Angelique (
v_angelique)Pairing: Andy Serkis/Viggo Mortensen; Viggo Mortensen/Elijah Wood
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: AU. Vampires.
Disclaimer: If you think this is true, you must be smoking some really, really premium shit.
Verse notes: The Tangled Histories verse exists in a world where the existence of vampires is known and accepted, and a handful of vampire families make up somewhere between two and ten percent of the world population. In this verse, vampires are not affected by sunlight and there is no great universal conflict between mortals and immortal. Vampires generally only take human blood that is offered willingly, and there are plenty of humans willing to offer. They can only die from not feeding enough of perhaps a few other rare conditions. The most important things to these vampires are age, family, and respect. Various pairings will be explored in the verse, and stories may jump around the chronology, but I'm going to try to write so that they can be read as standalones. In other words, I'm trying to avoid a WIP series, and there's no telling how long it'll take me to tell these stories, but they'll appear sporadically and all be listed under the Tangled Histories heading in my fic index.
Summary: Andy takes a trip to see his American brother-in-blood.
A/N: If anyone wants to sign on as a beta for this verse, or just for one or two future stories in this verse, let me know. Pairings will be many many but if there's something you really don't want to read feel free to mention that.
He's never been much of a fan of flying. Not so bad as Sean, of course, who refuses to set foot in an airplane and therefore travels only by land or by sea, on his own two feet if he has to. But he doesn't like how slowly planes move, how trapped he feels by their metal frames. The nicer airlines offer a comfortable portioned-off chamber and a willing human for their vampire passengers to feed from on longer flights, $50 US a bite, but Andy's not too comforted by the pretty boy from whom he feeds, any more than he is by the Italian wine or the French cheese served on the way to New York. When he lands in LaGuardia, he bypasses the taxi queue and runs upstate, just to feel the air in his lungs and the wind in his hair. Two hours later, he's on Viggo's doorstep.
"Brother," Viggo greets him with a characteristic lopsided grin, a sudden hug that would crush his bones if he were mortal. But he's not, hasn't been in over a hundred and fifty years, and he takes the embrace in stride.
"Viggo. How are you?"
"Managing," his blood-brother replies with a dramatic sigh. Andy rolls his eyes and steps inside the cabin. Viggo's place is messy beyond being understandably eccentric; Andy gets a glob of blue paint on his shoe when he missteps and frowns at the cerulean stain.
"Bullshit. You love it out here."
"Better than old Blighty," Viggo teases, cracking open a beer from the living room's mini fridge and offering it to Andy. "They'll never get me to stay there with them, not in a hundred years."
"'S what they get from siring a Yank," Andy reasoned with a shrug, collapsing on the sofa and lifting the beer to his lips for a long, grateful pull. "How's Elijah?"
Viggo's face closes slightly, and of course he won't give anything but Andy can't be blamed for trying. "He's fine," he grunts, and that's all Andy's going to get. Elijah is there, of course, but Andy may or may not see him this visit. Viggo's entitled to his foibles, and keeping his pet locked away securely is one of the most prevalent.
"Are you hungry?" Viggo asks after an awkward moment. "If I'd known you were coming, I would've found someone…"
Andy waves him off with one hand and a snort. "Had someone on the plane. A bit of a limited satisfaction, but I'm good for a couple of days."
"I don't understand how you do it," Viggo replies with a shake of his head. "You've been one of us for how many years, now? And still you don't bother to sire a vampire, or claim a human…"
Andy gives him a warning look. "The way Alan tells it, after he turned you, you spent nearly two hundred years in the jungle. If I recall correctly, you'd only been back from South America twenty years when they found me…"
"All right, brother. I cede the point. Still, it must be awfully tedious for every feed you find to be just almost satisfying."
"It's enough to sate me," Andy argues. "I turn to family for comfort and compassion, and to mortals for blood. It's not so dreary a practice as you think."
"Andy. I don't mean to upset you," Viggo sighs, moving to the couch next to his brother in blood and tugging him close, hard enough that Andy can't be stubborn and resist. They are equals on some level, of the same generation, but there are many nuances to the levels of trust and power that vampires ascribe to age, and Viggo is older than Andy by a good two hundred years. When Viggo kisses his temple, Andy sighs and relaxes and feels more settled than he has since leaving London.
"They aren't all bad," Andy whispers, as though he's trying to convince himself. "The boys in London… some of them are sweet, even." In London, there's no difficulty finding a feed. There are hundreds, thousands of humans who are drawn to vampire-kind, and many of them gravitate to the bustle of the big city. Though these openly eager mortals are unlikely to ever find a sire or a master to make them pets, a number of clubs will interview prospectives for vampires to feed from--a meat market with as many options in price and quality as the London restaurant scene. Andy and Viggo's bloodline is strong, and their family is old and moneyed. He can afford the more expensive clubs, the most discreet, with boys who are old enough to know what they're doing, old enough not to ask for more than a vampire is willing to give or expect more from the encounter from a single bite. Still, he can't help but see Sean with Dominic or even Orli and Craig together and be jealous, sometimes.
"You'll find someone, Andy. If that's what you want," Viggo murmurs, his voice soothing in a way that reminds Andy of exotic locales, far away rainforests and bottomless caves, and then simultaneously of home. "And we'll always be here if you don't," he adds, a deeper layer of emotion hidden in his tone as he lowers his head, pulls gently at the thin skin just under Andy's chin with his dull front teeth. Andy shudders and clings, never embarrassed somehow with this level of neediness when it comes to Viggo or Sean, no matter how much he'd refuse to show it with anyone outside the family.
Viggo understands, and he presses more kisses to Andy's face, his neck, before he pulls back slightly and meets Andy's eyes. "You'll sleep?"
Andy nods. They don’t sleep the way mortals do, but the mind still benefits from rest, hours of stillness lending clarity and rejuvenation.
"I need to feed. I'll be with you in a few hours."
Viggo comes in late, maybe two in the morning. Andy abandons his safe, comfortable position, stretched out like a board, and curls tightly in towards his brother. Viggo's body surrounds him like a blanket, and he drifts again.
It's early when Andy hears sounds from down the hall, smells coffee. He starts to sit up, and Viggo tenses, half-alert and knowing why Andy rises, but he doesn't stop him. Andy completes the movement, slides out of bed, and pads down the ceramic-tiled hallway to the kitchen, the open plan of the one-level cabin letting in the early morning light.
Elijah is strangely beautiful, and as always Andy is struck by it. They are not dissimilar in age; Elijah was eighteen when Viggo claimed him (that being one of the few facts Andy actually does know about Elijah) and Andy was in his mid-thirties when he became a vampire, fifteen years after Elijah became a pet. Other than that, all Andy knows about Elijah is that Viggo found him after an intense period of darkness and depression, that Elijah was born on a plantation in North Carolina, and that Viggo calls Elijah his muse. No one really gets to see Elijah, even Viggo's sires, who would have the right by droit du seigneur but don't have the interest.
He is making strong coffee, for Viggo presumably who drinks it for the taste despite the lack of effect caffeine has on his nervous system. Andy nods in greeting, and Elijah looks at him a long minute before turning back to what he is doing, silent.
The paper is on the counter, and Andy's eyes scan it with a half-interest. It is Elijah he is interested in, the human thin and unearthly pale but healthy-looking nonetheless, a slight glow in his cheeks that Andy immediately attributes to the fact that his master fed the night previous. Pets get just as much out of a feeding as the master does, he knows, and Elijah is radiant despite his silence.
When Viggo enters the kitchen he kisses Elijah hard, possessive, reminding Andy of his claim as if it is necessary. For Viggo, Elijah is not just a pet, he is a muse, and there is something dangerous and deep between them that Andy does not dare scratch the surface of, even. Something insane crackles behind Viggo's eyes from time to time, and he is stronger than Andy.
Andy watches the kiss for a long moment, the seconds drawing the space between them thinner and thinner until he finally leaves the kitchen and retreats to the guest bedroom, his hand palming his cock as he curses and bites the inside of his cheek, just to taste blood.