~ Emotional Surges ~
“You did WHAT?” Stefano’s ebony eyes flashed as he glared at his sire and slammed his fists on piano keys. “What do you mean, you cancelled it because of ME? How dare you blame your indecision on me. I did not ask or even imply that I didn’t want you to marry.” He stood and stepped towards Vargon. Fury stormed within him as he swung his arm, hitting and breaking the piano lid support. The lid slammed closed, causing all the strings to vibrate in soft discord. A long shard of wood flew across the distance toward Vargon, falling to the floor inches from his feet.
“That is more than enough”, Vargon replied calmly. He stood in front of the fireplace, holding an almost-empty glass of blood-wyne. Though his demeanor appeared calm and his voice was lowered, it still resonated within the great hall, reminiscent of thunder chasing a lightning crash. Stefano could not avoid noticing how the tone in Vargon’s voice was belied by the softness of the volume. “You will not speak to me in such a manner again, under penalty of death. Chylde you may be, but I am still your Sire and your Prince and you will treat me as such.
Stefano flinched at the mastery in Vargon’s voice. Angry tears threatened his eyes; he struggled to hold them back, refusing to look more the chylde. “I am sor…”
“I have not asked you to speak, young one.” The threat in Vargon’s voice held steady. “You would be wise to hold your tongue until I permit otherwise.”
Stefano opened his mouth, closed it, opened it, and closed it again. He bowed his head slightly then nodded, finally standing quiet before the elder kindred. His eyes radiated pure anguish, yet he remained silent, his hands clasped before him in submission.
Viktor pursed his lips in thought. He looks every bit the petulant offspring.
Vargon continued, his voice still stern. “Until now, I had thought Viktor speaking of your temper was an exaggeration or misunderstanding. I can see now that wasn’t the case.”
Stefano turned, fixing his gaze on his manservant, then released it back to his sire.
“Yes, Viktor spoke to me of it. I asked him if there were anything amiss because I was feeling torment regarding you. So you can discard any ideas you may have of berating him, as he was doing as was asked of him. You will not chastise for truth and honesty, is that understood?”
Stefano nodded his head. He glimpsed at Viktor and mouthed the word “sorry” before returning his attention to Vargon.
“Good.” The word was gentle - all threat gone.
Stefano visibly relaxed when he heard the change in tone.
“Apparently you do not feel our bond as I do or you might have noticed my concern over you. But there is nothing to be done about that. You will feel as you feel. What you will not do is allow those feelings to cause you to forget the very rules I have taught you. It appears we need to review them. Again.” The air was ripe with his disappointment. “As the oldest kindred in the area, indeed the first to settle here, I am Prince of the region. As such all our kind owe deference to me. This would include my own chylde. If you continue on this course of insolence, I shall be forced to discipline you. To the fullest of my ability.” He drew a slow breath. “If necessary I can have my chair brought here and you can spend time in reverence before me as I drill these facts into your head.”
He waited for what seemed an eternity to Stefano before he concluded, “Now then, what does my chylde … my one chylde … have to say?”
The dam burst. Tears trickled down Stefano’s face as he shuddered. “I … am so sorry, Sire. I have never wanted to disrespect – to treat you as I just did. There are times of late when the fire of fury builds within me beyond measure. I have had need to forego feeding until I can control it. I understand this is no excuse, my father, but it is the truth. I still lose control. I don’t know why.”
Stefano gained some of his composure. “When you said you were thinking of being married, it started. An anger I could put no name to or reason for. I thought I had managed to lock it away, but just now, as you spoke of prolonging or cancelling the wedding, I … snapped. I am so sorry.”
He turned to Viktor. “And you, most devoted servant and trusted friend, for you I can find no words. I have spoken to you as a man doesn’t deem to speak to a dog. Yet you have taken all in stride, quietly, always giving me your allegiance. As I should be doing with my Sire. As I need to do. I deeply regret those words.”
Viktor bowed his head slightly, his eyes calm, his whole being emanating peace.
Stefano’s voice caught slightly as he turned back to Vargon. “I stand before you as a servant, my Prince, and I stand before you as a chylde, my Sire. There are no words adequate to remove what I have done. I can only ask for your mercy, and trust in your love.”
Viktor paused in his duties as Vargon stepped forward, approaching Stefano. His mind was torn between allegiance to one and loyalty to the other, but he knew if necessary, he would stand with Master Vargon.
The anguish in Stefano’s eyes mixed with sorrow and hope as Vargon stepped before him. Vargon paused and studied his chylde’s face, then kissed his cheek and wrapped his arms around him. “You are forgiven, my chylde, my son. I am proud of you.”
Stefano returned the embrace, releasing only when Vargon did. “Thank you. Sire – Father, may we discuss why you have stopped your marriage to … forgive me, I have forgotten the lady’s name.”
Vargon steered his chylde to the bar where Viktor already had two glasses of blood-wyne. “Odessa Stalway. And yes, I will always discuss life with you, Stefano.”
Stefano took a couple sips of his wyne before unleashing his questions. “How did she handle the news? Has she ended the relationship? Does she know of you? Do you need to bring her across before you can be married?” He stopped and grinned. “I’m sorry – I guess I have a few things to talk about.”
Vargon laughed softly, to Stefano the sound of symphony and joy. One of the servants stepped out from the kitchen, tapped Viktor’s shoulder, then leaned forward and whispered into his ear. Viktor bowed his head briefly to Vargon, then turned and followed the servant into the kitchens. Vargon noticed him leaving before returning to the conversation.
“First, she reacted as one would expect a lady to react. With complete composure, though her eyes brewed storms I may hear of for ages to come. No, she has not left, we are still intent on being wed, it just has been postponed for a while. And before you ask, no we have not determined for how long – it is good enough to know we will be married.”
Stefano stepped behind the bar to get the opened wyne bottle, then refilled their glasses. “I am glad to hear your relationship has not been terminated.” He stepped back around to sit.
“So am I.” Again a chuckle. “Odessa is widowed, no children, her parents gone many years already, so she is alone in life. I shall be able to end that. Now, about what she knows and what will happen… No, she is not aware of who I am. As you know, a kindred does not reveal himself or herself to a mortal. To that end, yes – I will need to bring her across before we can be married. As she has no family or real friends, I doubt her absence from society will raise even one brow. I believe you will like her, my son. She is almost as tall as you, long fire-red hair and dancing emerald eyes. Humor and joy flow through her in torrents, and I am lost in her presence.”
“I look forward to meeting her, Sire.” Stefano’s attention was turned to the door to the kitchens as Viktor returned.
The manservant’s eyes shone with concern as he gazed back and forth between Vargon and Stefano. His gaze finally rested on the younger kindred. “M’Lord, as ye are most likely aware, news travels quickly among servants. This is equally true, to an extent, with servants of different houses.” He paused to gauge Stefano’s demeanor before continuing. “There is word from the House of Falow. It seems there has been an accident; young Gerik has fallen on the stairs of his father’s house. He was taken to Doctor’s Row, but there is no other information. My impression is nothing … fatal … has happened ot
herwise the servants at Falow’s would have been apprised by now.”
Stefano stood, knocking over his glass. Vargon reached out and placed a hand on Stefano’s shoulder.
“Easy, chylde. Think things through. If you suddenly appear at the Row, there will be talk. Much more than you should want. Or Master Gerik.”
Stefano nodded and sat back down. “But I need to know, Sire. How am I to learn if I do not go?”
Viktor replied quietly, “The servants will keep the news flowing. We shall know shortly after Falow’s servants, if there is anything to report.”
Stefano shook his head, standing once again.
“Chylde, it is a time for patience.”
Stefano looked between the men, his eyes once again filling with tears. “How can I wait?” He paused a moment, weighing his words.
“I love him.”