I have watched him now for seven days and seven nights. During the day he rests in a cavern from which the plot can be easily seen; sometimes he sleeps there, bringing his knees to his chin, wrapping his arms around his legs as if that would take away the pain. Other times he just sits and stares at the sun, maybe thinking of stepping into it, maybe thinking of spending eternity here. At night, the moment the sun disappears beyond the horizon, sometimes even earlier, he wonders out of the rocky protection of the cliffs and sits down by the grave he himself dug. A few days ago, he cried the nights through, his sobs sometimes quiet, sometimes wracking. At the start I tried to comfort him, but he did not want my sympathy or my love. I think, deep down, he just wants to die.

I was with him on the first night, the night he buried his father, our master. I watched him crouch down and place a single, blood-red rose on the earthy mound. He deliberately stabbed his finger on a thorn, tearing his skin, letting the blood drop to the stem. My tears fell that night. We cried together, clinging to one another for a strength neither of us were sure we possessed. I had not expected his sobs to break my heart; yet I had not expected to return to find them living as lovers, joined so closely now that they could talk without words. They had shared each another's blood so often and so deeply that one lived with the other in his veins. Their minds and bodies had been lost each inside the other, over and over, joining them for eternity in a way neither could have imagined over eight hundred years ago.

A part of my Nicholas has gone, torn from him by a stranger; the one who killed his father must now have only a short time to live. My brother is no longer whole, no longer does his heart beat with love and passion. No more will those beautiful blue diamonds sparkle and dance with wild desire and an innocent joy known only to children, and to those lucky few who find their soulmate. The Nicholas I knew is already gone from me. As I watch him now move from the shelter of the cavern to be beside his beloved once more, I catch a tear formed in my own eye. He is desolate, more empty now than ever he was when he was an outcast from our kind. Now the source of his life is gone, his own immortality is drawing to a close. Lucien LaCroix brought him over for me, and now the memory of that great general shall rip him away from me one final time.

--/--/----/---{@}

My blood tears fall unheeded to his grave as I place the bundle of white roses onto the earth. I buried him next to his father. He is gone now, once again reunited with his beloved Lucien as was his only wish. He told me, as he died in my arms, that he had spent his time fighting LaCroix when he should have spent it loving him. He said, 'I thought we would have all the time in the world, that's what he always promised me.' How could I respond? I held him tighter as the stake took him, his body dying around the yew as it permeated his being, his very soul. I kissed his soft blond hair and whispered,
"You will join LaCroix in a good place, Nichola. The love you showed to him lit his life, he is waiting for you to take you once again into his arms." He smiled at me then, that stunning smile I used to cherish. And he died.

Where do I go from here? Have I the strength to continue without my father, without my brother? My family is gone, the only two who ever meant anything have been taken from me. Yet their heated desires, their passions for all life once had to offer them still live on in me. I am not yet ready to follow them. Nicholas and Lucien live on, in me they are truly immortal. For them, I shall find a way.