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May. 2nd, 2006 | 02:34 am
posted by: keep_this_scene in vc_fanfiction

Title: Your Luck and Never Your Curse
Author: : Bosie (BTrouFreelance@yahoo.com)
Fandom: : The Vampire Chronicles
Pairing: : Louis/Daniel
Rating: : PG-13 for strong language. (Bad Daniel!)
Warning: : This has spoilers for the last few books. If you’ve not read Blood Canticle (frankly, it wasn’t much worth it anyway…), you might not wanna check this one out.
Summary: : Louis has nowhere to turn, but into the solace of an old friend who may need his help just as badly.
Disclaimer: : These characters belong to Anne Rice. I am using them out of sheer love for their lives and their world, and not for any monetary gain.
Other: : Please, comment! I’d love feedback! This is my first fic I’m posting here, and the first Vampire Chronicles fic I’ve written in ages. Please let me know what you think.


"Dear Friend,

It has been a long while. I should hope you do not think I have been distant all of these years, merely very busy. Besides, your master would probably forbid me from speaking too closely with you. Whenever I saw you both, he seemed ridiculously protective.
But your master is away, and I have greater faith in my own powers now, ever since they were greatly enhanced by the divine blood of my own maker, my friend David and my eternally lost lover. Through these powers I have discovered your presence in Metairie, living in the manor there that Marius owns. I am glad to have been able to discern your presence, because I need you once more, need my estranged listener to listen once again.

Meet me in Jackson Square tomorrow night, if you can. If not then, the night after. I will be waiting, and hope my need for you can rid you of your indifference to the modern world. Marius worries for you, and the rest of us do, as well. I will be waiting.

Forever your companion in conversation,
Louis de Pointe du Lac"

Daniel read the letter over once, and then once more again. It had been years since he had played the unwitting confessor to the graceful Louis. Decades since he had sat down in a lifeless, well-lit room with a tape recorder and a pack of menthol cigarettes, wide-eyed, little by little uncovering the most astounding of all the world’s mysteries. Now he was a part of that mystery. He had been entrenched in their lives, ushered into the preternatural world through an act of utter desperation. All his nomadic life had led up to the moment he became a vampire, and he wasn’t sure it had been much better since then. He eyed Louis’ letter before dropping it into the garbage can. He’d think about it.

‘Now. Where was I.’ He picked up the little paintbrush, stooping over a small apartment building, painting the windows a bright yellow. He had not brought his miniature world from Marius’ other residence but merely began a new one. He didn’t much care losing the others. He liked having the space to work with. He went out only to feed, and was not often bothered by the others. He liked it that way. This house in Metairie had been repaired post-Katrina but had no electricity yet. Marius was loath to stay here, let alone have guests in such an inhospitable environment. But Daniel had taken it as his own personal responsibility to keep an eye on it, to remain the estate’s sentry until it was truly livable again.

He really only wanted to stay because all he wanted was to be alone.

Daniel Molloy did not know if he was young or weak enough to perish at will, so he would do the next best thing. He would fade from memory, lose himself in his thoughts, and hopefully be lost from the thoughts of others. But Louis was notoriously nostalgic for all things past, the vampire that wouldn’t forget. He wouldn’t forget the senses of his mortal years, he wouldn’t forget his dead paramours, and unfortunately he wouldn’t forget Daniel.

So Daniel would go to meet him. It was a simple enough decision. Louis was in need, so Daniel would answer, becoming the silent savior to the most reluctant of all sinners. He secretly liked the idea, that he was the one Louis had to fall back on when there was no one else. It was a role of subtle importance, especially as he himself had nobody to fall back on, either.


Louis stepped leisurely down the stairs of the flat on Rue Royale, appreciating for the trillionth time that the French Quarter remained intact, untouched by the reckless waves of Katrina’s undeserved wrath. It had been months ago but much of New Orleans was still in shambles, and Louis couldn’t help but take special notice of every little facet of the Quarter’s beauty, appreciating anew what could’ve been lost. It gave him something nice to think about, anyway. There were very few good things for him to settle his attention upon.

Lestat was never around anymore. Lestat the Magnificent was busying himself with the return of his beloveds, Quinn and Mona. Louis especially disliked Mona. He thought she was a brat and a harlot. Quinn wasn’t much better when it came to being spoilt and being an utter libertine. He’d had sex with more ghosts than with humans or vampires. Quinn was deeply enamored with Louis, but unfortunately for the young one, the fascination was one-sided.

And when Lestat was not entertaining his new immortal friends, he was lying, blood-sweaty and spent, in the arms of his still-mortal lover Rowan. It disgusted Louis for some reason. It was likely jealousy but Louis would never admit that to himself, reasonable as he oft was.

Salome watched mournfully out of the front window, wishing she could join Louis. She was his silky-coated golden retriever, about three years old now. Louis had bought her as a replacement for Mojo after the dog’s inevitable passing, but Lestat remained faithful to his previous pet and gave the dog little notice. Louis, however, had fallen madly in love with her adorable ways and her insistent manner when it came to dragging him about wherever she pleased. She had spirit, that animal. But he would not give into her big, brown puppy eyes tonight. He had an errand to run, one which the restless dog would easily become bored with.

He walked through the Quarter, oblivious to everything about the crowds of tourists that had no relation to the heady scent of their blood. It tempted it, but he did not need to feed tonight. He abstained whenever he felt it was possible. Lestat hated to see him do it, but his maker wasn’t paying a whole lot of attention to him lately.

Louis wandered the perimeter of Jackson Square, walking the sidewalks beside the Pontalba Apartments, losing himself in the early evening crowd. The Vampire Tour was gathering on the back stairs of the cathedral, and he smirked to himself. It always made him smile, every time he passed the tour guide in Victorian clothes and the wonder-struck tourists with their flashing cameras. He would steer clear of them despite their campy, cliché atmosphere – you could never be too careful.

He let his eyes roam the vacationers gathered there, and past them to the benches that peppered the open space like a geometric design. There was a tattooed, bald teen sitting and speaking with a girl his age and just as many tattoos, and a man with a guitar on another bench. On yet another sat a father with two children, one with blond hair and a laugh that made him think of…


Just stop it. Or at least, wait until Daniel is here. Brooding will do you no good right now.

He ignored the curls in the blond, laughing girl’s hair and continued to walk.

He had wandered several blocks and was traversing the endless sidewalk of the River Walk. The moonlight shone in glinting streaks along the lightly rippled water, and he could hear the voices of several mortals despite how far away they were. He could hear so much nowadays, see and sense things he’d been totally incapable of noticing years ago. The strength given him by the combined blood of Lestat, David and Merrick was damn near incalculable. It meant one thing, however, one drawback he dreaded so much that he didn’t even acknowledge it anymore. He liked to look out at the water and imagine that if he jumped in, he might just drown. He deluded himself into thinking that, each time he encountered a victim who held a gun, perhaps that victim could turn the tables and end his life, instead.

Of course, none of it was true. He just liked to imagine it was.

He blocked out the voices and sounds coming from the river’s edge and from the rest of the Quarter, and tried to focus in on the thoughts of Daniel himself.


"I walk the streets of Japan till I get lost
‘Cause it doesn't remind me of anything
With a graveyard tan carrying a cross
‘Cause it doesn't remind me of anything
I like studying faces in a parking lot
‘Cause it doesn't remind me of anything
I like driving backwards in the fog
‘Cause it doesn't remind me of anything…"

Daniel adjusted the volume on his Walkman, turning it all the way up so that it blasted into his ears in a way conducive of blocking out all other sound. He sat on one of the cold metal benches in Jackson Square, wearing dirty clothes that he cared nothing for and waiting for Louis. He looked like a nondescript young man, and kept his thoughts blocked, hoping that even other vampires would not take too much notice of him.

"The things that I've loved, the things that I've lost
The things I've held sacred that I've dropped
I won't lie no more, you can bet
I don't want to learn what I'll need to forget…"

The lyrics were all too fitting. He didn’t venture into New Orleans from Metairie too often, as the memories relating to the French Quarter seemed too potent. Some vampires were able to forget their mortal life as soon as they were descended from it, but not Daniel. His final decade as a mortal man was so intertwined in his current world that he wasn’t quite sure where one ended and the other began, that he wasn’t just dreaming, or had died of alcohol poisoning and this is what his heaven was like. He hoped the latter wasn’t true. He could stand it, maybe, if it were purgatory, but it couldn’t even be that. Armand was not here, so it must have been hell.

"I like gypsy moths and radio talk
‘Cause it doesn't remind me of anything
I like gospel music and canned applause
‘Cause it doesn't remind me of anything
I like colorful clothing in the sun
‘Cause it doesn't remind me of anything
I ilke hammering nails and speaking in tongues
‘Cause it doesn't remind me of anything… "

He sang quietly along with the Audioslave lyrics, his hands compulsively toying with the fragile model in his pocket, the gift he’d brought for Louis when at last they ran into each other. Daniel tried to think back on the last time he’d seen the vibrant vampire. Was it at Night Island? It must have been, when The Coven of the Articulate in its entirety was gathered there for respite that seemed more like group therapy. He wondered how Louis had changed. Daniel had faithfully read David’s accounts in MERRICK, and imagined Louis’ eyes all the greener, his skin all the more human, his gossamer hair all the more lustrous.

"Bend and shape me
I love the way you are
Slow and sweetly
Like never before
Calm and sleeping
We won't stir up the past
So discreetly
We won't look back…"

Daniel mouthed the words silently and as they passed his lips he smiled, softly. He and Louis had so much history without having any real history at all. They had intimate trust based on one brash act of Louis’ subconscious. Louis buckled with the weight of his self-torment, and he finally had to tell someone. Daniel sometimes wondered if Louis resented him for publishing, for finding the decoy author and going about his business in order to make a buck. But it did not seem to be the case. They were the best of friends, it seemed, the few times they’d been in each other’s company since that fateful night in San Francisco. They blamed themselves for the other’s downfall. Had Daniel not published, the books would not have happened, and they would perhaps be better off without the exposure. And had Louis not opened his mouth, Daniel may have had a chance at becoming a famous journalist, and perhaps a well-adjusted individual with a proper life, a normal family.

Daniel laughed aloud at the thought. Impossible. He knew it from the moment he’d heard the word ‘vampire’ fall from Louis’ full lips, since he’d noticed the sharpened eyeteeth between those lips. Life was never to be the same.

He sat remembering the past, and the memory of Louis seemed enough to conjure the raven-haired, tall vampire, because there he was, standing right before where Daniel sat, as if he’d appeared there.

Daniel removed his headphones in a hurry, his violet eyes gazing over Louis’ hard but ever-sympathetic features. “Wow. You….got a tan,” Daniel said dubiously, trying to keep all untoward admiration out of his voice.

Louis couldn’t help but chuckle before he sat down beside the vampire he’d always remember fondly as a boy. “Yes. And you listen to Audioslave,” he replied just as dubiously, as if it were a sin or a stupid thing to do.

Daniel shrugged. “Nobody’s perfect.”

And they began to walk.


“You don’t understand it, Louis. You can’t even begin to grasp how much this chick gets on my nerves. He fawns over what a brilliant pianist she is, and she only knows one fucking song. I tried to tell her once to play Chopin or maybe even some ragtime, and Armand looked at me like he was ready to kill me. The girl’s completely psycho.”

They had been talking for several hours, catching up on years of rants, tear-jerking betrayals, rare happy moments and of the occasional encounter with those who knew what they were. The topic had eventually turned to uglier things, to gossip about those it was difficult to find pleasant.

“I can imagine it would be hard to hear the same song over and over.”

“It was. That’s why I left. Armand didn’t seem to care, anyway. He has new pets, so what do I matter?”

Daniel said this matter-of-factly, as if it were something he was much accustomed to and not searching for any sympathy on behalf of it.

“He cares, Daniel,” Louis said softly.

“I doubt it,” replied the younger vampire, his ashen hair falling in his face as he walked, staring at the sidewalk under his feet. And that was the end of that particular debate.

“You are not the only one facing abandonment,” Louis began, changing the subject to a certain degree, and unraveled the entire story of Quinn and Mona, and of Rowan. As he’d suspected, Daniel hadn’t bothered reading Lestat’s last couple of books, as he’d heard from others and found in the minds of fans that they had nothing to do with Armand. So Louis explained to him the goings-on there, and although they solved little, just being with each other, having a familiar and trusted confidant to speak with, helped with their various frustrations. Before they’d even realized how much time had passed, the sky began to lighten. They could see it above the rooftops of the centuries-old buildings. They’d been too enamored with each other to notice it before, but time was of the essence now. Louis realized it before Daniel had, as the younger vampire was still ranting.

“…I just hate thinking that she’s the one getting his attention,” he spat, his violet eyes aflame with hatred for the shimmering and beautiful pianist. Benji seemed not to bother Daniel half as bad as this sylph did. “And it’s the same song! I can’t stress it enough. She doesn’t do anything but play that song, she hides in it, loses herself in it, loses anything about her that may once have been interesting…”

“Kind of like your model cities, Daniel?” Louis asked softly. It was not to be cruel, but merely to bring Daniel back to earth, to maybe show him that Sybelle needed her escape as much as Daniel needed his own. Perhaps he’d been too clouded with jealousy to see it that way.

The fire in Daniel’s eyes died down somewhat and he looked pensive. “Yeah. Maybe it’s something like that,” he shrugged casually, scratching at the back of his neck in a strikingly mortal gesture of discomfort. He peered upwards at the sky, and sighed. “I guess we should going. But, speaking of the models…”

He pulled from his pocket a small wooden house. It was perhaps two inches long on all four sides, and four, maybe four and a half, inches tall. He placed it in Louis’ hand and the elder immortal gazed at it in wonder.

“You made this? For me?”

Daniel nodded, expressionless.

Louis delicately turned the model between his fingers, peering at the shape, the colors of the shingles and of the siding. It was an exact model of the apartment in which they’d once, years ago, had a discussion that would prove the most important in either of their lives. Less of a discussion and more of an interview, really. Louis glanced at the little painted windows, which were pure yellow except for two black silhouettes there, one taller and with longer hair than the other. “Just a little reminder that I’m always there to talk to if you need me,” Daniel said with a smile that was tentative, as if he were expecting to be turned away. It wasn’t often he extended himself to anyone, but he knew Louis would not make him regret doing so.

Louis smiled fondly, still holding the little house as it if were made of brittle glass. “Merci beaucoup, mon ami. Vraiment.” They were stopped, conveniently enough, outside of Louis’ door, and the sky had paled to the point where he was beginning to feel lethargic.

Daniel nodded, knowing he’d call upon Louis soon for further conversation, now that he knew precisely where his and Lestat’s flat was. “Bonjour, Louis,” Daniel said with a small wave, and Louis returned the sentiment, Daniel’s name sounding so romantic in the slight French lilt that remained in his voice.

His steps were slow as he turned up the stairs, and as soon as he was inside, he walked into the living room. He placed the little model on the mantel beside a framed picture of the dearly departed Mojo. He patted Salome on her fuzzy head, letting her follow him upstairs to his sun-proofed bedroom.

Daniel was slow in getting back to the manor, knowing the power of the blood within him allowed him a little more time than the average vampire of his age. He walked unhurriedly, and with a demeanor happier than he’d known as of late. He’d found once again a friend in Louis, and with that found a new hope in contentedness. A few steps from Louis’ door, he turned his Audioslave CD back on.

"Help me, I don't know what I'm saying
Sometimes this tongue can be betraying
And if I'm wrong, is that such a crime?
And if you want, you can set my words to right

And as you're laughing at this fool tonight
Let me rid myself of any line that I might use to trip you up
And as I'm howling at the moonlight, don't you kid yourself
I will be your luck

And if your eyes forget to well
And if your lies forget to tell
And if our paths forget to cross
It doesn't mean you're lost…"

Daniel smiled to himself again. He’d smiled more tonight than he had in maybe the last five years. The song seemed to fit perfectly, as all factors of his life did, one rumbling storm of coincidence after another. But tonight the storm was settling in a picturesque and poetic way, a revelation, a lyrical promise from he and Louis to each other; the poetry of a newfound friendship that constantly rebuilt and restated itself. There was comfort now in thinking that they each knew where the other resided, and would always be able to talk to each other in times of need.

"I will be your luck and never your curse…"

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Comments {6}

(no subject)

from: xnakedbunnyx
date: May. 2nd, 2006 08:25 am (UTC)

I'm impressed and a little saddened that this appears to be just a one-shot. I'd love to read more.

Just some thoughts:
"He thought she was a brat and a harlot. Quinn wasn’t much better when it came to being spoilt and being an utter libertine. He’d had sex with more ghosts than with humans or vampires."

I think Louis is a little bit more dignified (stuffy, polite) to criticize anyone else's sex life.

I don't think Daniel was around for the whole Sybelle and Benji episode either. So he probably has little of an opinion about them.

Perhaps you could have Daniel focus on Louis' appearance a little more considering that he'd probably be pretty shocked.

Is Louis really jealous or just annoyed? Having lived for so long do they really bother with jealousy any more, especially when it comes to bothering with who gets more attention from whom?

I enjoyed your ficcy a lot. Keep on writing!

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(no subject)

from: keep_this_scene
date: May. 2nd, 2006 04:39 pm (UTC)

First off, OMFG, I love your icon. Funny enough, I tried to actually make LegolasIsMyHo my AIM name. Someone must've already had it so I contented myself with GollumIsMyHo. Nobody really wanted to talk to me. lol

Thanks for the feedback. As for answering a small bit of it, as for Danny not being around for Sybelle and Benji, I figured that since he'd been living with Marius and Marius had guests at the Metairie house when Lestat was comatose, it would've been interesting to see an interaction between Daniel/Armand when Armand had the kids with him. I'm actually planning on a fic where that happens, but haven't started it yet.

Also, I think Louis' both annoyed and jealous. Not jealous because he wants to be with Lestat, but because a)Lestat isn't even bothering to pay him much attention during his time of mourning for Merrick (not that Louis would want the companionship, really, but it would still be nice to be thought of), and b)because Lestat is happy with a Mayfair mortal woman and Louis has guilt about ruining Merrick and naturally, her subsequent suicide.

I hope that cleared up a little bit for you, and thanks again for the comments! Drop me a line on AIM, at "getting bitterer", if you ever wanna chat or roleplay!

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(no subject)

from: x_x_sickgrrl
date: May. 2nd, 2006 04:40 pm (UTC)

I thought that was awesome! and like xnakedbunnyx, i would really like to see a sequel to this!

I recognize your name but i can't place any vc fic's you've written. if i leave you my email could you send me some of your stuff? I'd love to read it!!


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(no subject)

from: kahvi_elf
date: May. 2nd, 2006 10:07 pm (UTC)

Wow, I like it - but way too short :-)

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(no subject)

from: keep_this_scene
date: May. 4th, 2006 09:37 pm (UTC)

You've all talked me into it - a sequel is currently in the works! :-)

Thanks for all the feedback, too!

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(no subject)

from: megrulez
date: May. 18th, 2006 06:49 am (UTC)

you write vc specs..........i love you...

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