A/N: I wanted to know what would happen if a vampire and an elf fell in love, so here it is! Give a review at the end, and more chapters will follow! POV does change a lot, so it confuses you, you now know to look out for it. Enjoy this!
Still Waters Run Deep
Did they end up being together, since they are immortal?
I don't know. But I do know that they will always play some part in each other's lives. I suppose, though, that vampires and elves were never meant to be lovers.
Let me tell you the love story of the vampire, Lord Varen, and the elf-maiden Lady Uzuri.
Paris France, 1818
The years have changed this land and its people; they no longer remember their heritage, Uzuri thought as she made her way through the grand building towards an elaborate ballroom, with gilded statues, crystal chandeliers, and silver lining on every article in the room. The high ceilings were painted by master artists, and not a single stroke of long-gone brushes was ever short of the awe-inspiring vanity mortals seek. Uzuri stared out over the room when she paused in the archway. The nobles were dancing and enjoying the festivities, and caught her reflection in the large mirrors opposite. Her green eyes glowed with life, and her blonde hair streaked with brown framed her face beautifully in a loose bun style, her fair face obscured with an aged gold color mask adorned with feathers. Her dress was a muted gold and earthen green; the corset around her torso showed off her soft curves, and the skirt flowed out and down in gentle folds.
"Tell me, why is une belle mademoiselle such as yourself all alone?" a velvet voice purred by her ear. Uzuri lifted her chin and looked at him out of the corner of her eye.
"Who says I'm alone?"
"Ma chèrie, une belle mademoiselle such as yourself is never left unattended…"
Uzuri could hear the charm and the smile in his voice, and turned to glare at him. Instead, she felt her breath escape her parted lips, staring into violet eyes framed in a black and deep purple mask. He seemed to know the effect he had on her, and his smile turned seductive as he bowed slightly, and with an elegant twist of his wrist held out his hand. "May I have the honor of a dance?"
Uzuri stared over what she could see of his finely chiseled features, his neat, sleek and loose shoulder-length ebony hair, his lithe body, and found herself unable to resist. She placed her hand in his, and he led her to the dancefloor. She was swept into his arms; the dance fluid and graceful.
She couldn't think of a time when she had enjoyed herself like this before….
Varen smiled at the young maiden in his arms. He had never before seen one with such fire and spirit, and such beauty. Perhaps, if she proved willing and worthy, he would immortalize her. As the dance ended, he drew her closer to him, whispering in her ear. "Ditez-moi, mademoiselle, what may I call you?"
"I am Lady Uzuri," she replied, the humble sureness of her voice was… enticing. She pulled away, and floated to the side. He followed. "Monsieur," the maiden beauty began, "Comment vous vous appellez?" her green eyes stared straight into his, almost challenging him. Varen liked that. "I am Lord Varen, bestowed with the honor of being your host," he watched her carefully at this, and was slightly surprised at her reaction. Or, rather, a lack of it. She turned her head to the side, and let out a soft breath through her nose.
So this was the somewhat infamous Lord Varen. I should have known. His is the only family with violet eyes, Uzuri remembered. "I thank you for the dance, sir, but now we must part ways." Uzuri left him, hoping he wouldn't follow her onto the balcony. She needed fresh air to think. Thankfully, he left her alone. The night air was cool against her skin. She leaned on the cream marble railing, breathing in deeply. Why had he affected her like that? She pulled off her mask, dropping her head into her hands. She left the ball early, staying away from Lord Varen the way a rabbit stays away from a fox.
He lifted his mouth from the girl's neck, soaring high on the life she had given him through her blood. Varen could feel the warm, precious crimson liquid trickle down his chin, but he couldn't bring himself to care. He was still cradling the limp body of the half-naked, half-dead girl. He didn't know who she was, but he had needed to feed after his encounter with Lady Uzuri. "Uzuri…" he tasted her name, rolling it around his mouth like a decadent and rare dessert. She had run from him after their dance, and it had filled him with a desire to hunt so strong he was forced to excuse himself. When he had returned, she was gone. He had praised whatever dark deities had removed her presence; he planned to stay here for a long time with his coven. His attention returned to the girl in his arms. He dropped her on the nearby bed and buttoned his shirt on. Then he left the small servant's quarters on his estates, blending into the night shadows to roam freely while he could.
Dawn after the masquerade found Uzuri in leggings and a tunic, her hair braided away from her face, wandering through her own very extensive estates. Rumors about Hillsdawn included that it consisted of a very large portion of France. She smiled at the exaggeration as she knelt, and both a fox and rabbit came to her side. She stroked them both soothingly, then a thought occurred to her. A friendship between the two was impossible: predator and prey can never mix. But, watching them, seeing them look at each other, she realized that – for now, at least – they had come to an understanding; were equals just for a moment. Then Uzuri's thoughts turned to the night before, and Varen. Perhaps, like the animals in front of her, she and Varen could be equals for a few seconds. She stood, and the creatures scattered back to their activities. A grim line settled over her mouth; she needed a she-elf to help her get ready and a coach into the semi-rural area.
Uzuri checked her appearance in a mirror as the buggy slowed. The illusion spell she had cast to hide her pointed ears was still in place and strong. Her hair was tied high on her head under a neat black hat with a bit of a net veil over her green eyes. She heard her elven coach driver rap the side, and call out that they had arrived. She checked her plaid green and blue dress, detesting the constraints of the fashionable corset, and stepped out with the aid of another elf. They had halted right by Lord Varen's grand entrance to his mansion. She smoothed her dress, checked that her black gloves were in place and strode to the door, where a porter or high-ranking servant stood to attention. "Mademoiselle, what is your business?"
"I have an audience with Lord Varen," she said, hoping that he would just let her pass. He glanced her over. "Suivez-moi, mademoiselle," he said, opening the door and allowing her to pass inside. A tall, fair-haired boy stood rigidly by a grand marble staircase. His violet eyes gazed into Uzuri's steadily. "Leave us, Rousseau," he said coldly. The attendant bowed, and returned to his post. "I am Gabriel," the boy said loftily. "I shall call my uncle for you, Lady." He seemed to tear himself away from her, and glide up the stairs. Just leave me in the foyer, then, Uzuri thought, fighting the urge to fiddle with something. So she turned her attention to the room. It was painted in light colors, brightening the room despite the few windows. The walls were adorned with tapestries and paintings, either depicting a hunt of sorts, or portraits of family members. Each and every face, Uzuri noted, bore the same amount of beauty and the exact same shade of violet eyes; each and every generation without fail. Uzuri shook her head; it was a wonder that such a trait passed through. She didn't realize that the object of the painting she now studied, was studying her.
Varen leaned against the archway pillar to a grand drawing room, his arms crossed as he watched Uzuri's fascination with his coven's portraits. These in the foyer were only of the coven heads and their mates. He sighed softly with longing when Uzuri paused in front of the portrait of his mother. He wished briefly that his family wasn't a coven of vampires, and that he could have known her. But it passed quickly; vampire women were undead, so to give life to another meant your own death. That was the way of life. Or undeath. He let his gaze travel over the unsuspecting woman in front of him, taking in the line of her neck and shoulders, the curve to her hips, the smoothness of her gait. He grinned; she was just as intoxicating as the night before, and here she stood to see him. "I did not get the chance to bid you 'good eve' last night, Lady Uzuri," he said, pleased when she spun around, wary. She smoothed her fine features, so beautiful freed from the mask. "Lord Varen."
He pushed off from the pillar, uncrossing his arms as he carefully, slowly strode closer to her. She was bolder than the night before… something had given her fire fuel. He raised his arched brow, waiting, asking her to continue. She seemed at a loss for words. "Perhaps we should take a walk through the garden –"
"No!" she stepped forwards, words flowing from her mouth. "I don't know who you think you are, but you cannot treat other people like shiny new toys! You are not above them, nor they you. For once in your life, treat someone as your equal. Egalité, c'est très important!" she fumed. He stopped dead, halfway across the room from her. Varen sobered for a moment, and thought of what she had just said.
Uzuri fumed silently; how dare he try his charm again? And shame on her for almost giving in! Her words halted him, and he stood like a statue. She wondered briefly if Varen was even breathing. She clenched her fists, then turned and stormed out, throwing open the doors and nearly knocking the porter to the ground. Her carriage had just started to roll away to the stables. "Anane!" she called, and the elf-driver halted his steeds, watching Uzuri stride towards him. She barely kept herself from running, and the look on her face was fierce.
"Uzuri!" a voice called from the house.
"Go. Don't stop for anything," Uzuri hissed, stepping in and waiting for the other elf to close the door, and the tap on the roof to signal their leaving.
French Translations: (If any of these phrases in French are in correct, please say so in a review and how to correct them. Thank you!)
une belle mademoiselle A beautiful lady
Ma chèrie My dear
Ditez-moi, mademoiselle Tell me, lady (respective)
Monsieur, comment vous vous appellez? Sir, what is your name? (respective)
Suivez-moi Follow me (respective)
Egalité, c'est très important Equality, is very important