Chapter Text
Circling the small gilt-edged glass case containing rare and priceless jewels, historical, antique and otherwise, Louis glanced to Gregory to ensure the ancient was following his gaze. Louis had gathered several such cases from one of Lestat’s specially built safe-armoires, and had placed them in a row on the dressing counter inside their Prince’s largest walk-in closet. Having stopped in front of this particular case because it held a very ornate and lavish shining crown, Louis opened the top of the glass enclosure and adjusted the item gently, his elegant fingers settling it more symmetrically atop its purple velvet cushion. This crown had been commissioned specially by a vampire from Oxford who had it made custom for Lestat’s illustrious brow. Their Prince had never worn it.
Gregory was no stranger to gems and treasures. Even as a mortal, he’d been entrusted with guarding such riches. Akasha possessed more than her share of jewels and royal paraphernalia. It had all been primitive in comparison to this display, but it had been the richest of riches in their time. Tonight, he was dressed impeccably in a dark business suit, and lightly clasping his arms behind the back of his long overcoat, Gregory leaned in to examine a particularly beautiful setting of rubies.
“I don’t know why he refuses to wear it,” Louis said with a small gesture to the crown. “He has never been one to shrink from finery. But perhaps it is too much for him, too final, because neither has he worn the Romanoff items brought to Court from the Russian vampires, and I don’t believe he ever means to.” Louis swept his hand further down the row of glittering baubles to a second crown, this one much older, paired as a matching set with a scepter. Both of these were exquisite and intricately lain with all manner of precious stones.
Louis was no stranger to dressing for certain occasions, having been known to outfit himself at particular times when he really meant to, using cloth and jewelry as a sort of armor. He was not above using what he wore to be simultaneously disarming and enticing, and he could not fathom the reason Lestat might not do the same as Prince of their kind, whether he had chosen the role or no. He’d been their sovereign for over a year now, though they all knew Lestat hadn’t wanted it. Perhaps that was what kept him from wearing the finery befitting a royal.
“If I were to have something made,” Louis asked. “Do you think he would still refuse it?”
“These are all perfectly lovely.” Gregory straightened, looking to him, the infamous emerald of Louis’s eyes momentarily enchanting him. This was their Prince Consort, the one who held the very knowledge which ultimately freed their kind from Amel last spring. Gregory couldn’t help but smile at Louis, pleased to be the one consulted for such advice. “Have you had gifts made for him before, and has he ever refused them?”
Louis considered the question with the barest cant of his head, his brow pinching at the center, his lips pressing together. “This is different, I would like to believe, than anything I’ve ever attempted to give him in the past. Nothing I’ve ever given him holds with it such symbolism of what he represents, what he is to our people… What he is to me.” Louis replaced the lid of the glass case with a reverent and slow ease, his preternatural skin leaving not a trace of oils to smudge the clear surface.
Gregory seemed larger than life to Louis, in the same way Lestat sometimes did when he was enlivened with emotion, with an idea, with the vivacity of lust for living. Louis wanted to bottle that essence, so that he might feed off it when low. Gregory’s eyes were alive now with that same fire, and Louis felt like a vivarium specimen to have such eyes boring into him now.
“Do you know, I have closets and closets full of all manner of clothing, jewelry, accessories, shoes and scents here at the chateau which he has gifted to me… And even more in our New Orleans residence.” Louis fell silent for several seconds, then added, “It has been a long time since he has been cross enough with me to refuse anything I gave to him.”
Gregory gave a low chuckle and absently ran the pad of a thumb over his lower lip as his eyes fixed on the jeweled crowns once more. “I can’t imagine many refuse your gifts, Louis,” he said, voice barely a whisper. Gregory admired then the glass of this cabinet, the thickness of it and the way the dim lighting fell through it and across the colorful metals and precious stones within. “You clearly have great feeling and emotion for this gift. I am certain he will treasure and wear whatever you might craft for him. These crowns here—” Gregory gestured. “They are from those who wish to make some impression upon our Prince. You don’t need to make such impressions on him. You two have a history outside this Court. If my Chrysanthe gives me a new watch or some other such item, I’m far more likely to wear it than something my employees might gift me. I love my wife deeply, the gift makes me feel she is always with me. I don’t need to feel my employees are always with me.” Gregory gave Louis another smile. “What gems does Lestat like best? I know several jewelers throughout Europe who might assist you.”
Louis merely shook his head, amusement flickering across his features. Did Lestat ever meet a gem he didn’t like? Louis could scarce imagine it. But his favorites? Those he liked best? Louis had a moment of panic to imagine he might not actually know the answer to such a question, not truly, and this revelation filled him with a sudden lament.
“I think…” Louis began but then paused, truly thinking, seeming so human for a moment. “It is as you say, that the meaning is what is important. The thing he must wear should hold within it pieces of what he is, each facet a symbol of his qualities that placed him in his illustrious position, as well as the values which we hold as truths. Diamonds for longevity and strength under immense pressure, rubies for the vitality of life, the Blood we all share…and so forth.” Louis’s hand lifted as he spoke, his long fingers curling in the air to trace a small invisible outline of the crown in his imagination with an elegant but muted flourish, hardly aware of his actions. But emotion pulled at the edges of his features, making it all the more clear that Louis took the task he had set out for himself with the utmost seriousness.
“I would very much like to interview these jewelers, and would prefer someone who is not ignorant to the historic, social and anthropological meanings of the precious gems and metals they work.”
Gregory felt that perhaps Louis was taking this crown creation far too literally. That a simple crown crafted with love would be more than enough for Lestat. Despite all the brash bravery, the self-confidence, and the attention he paid to lavish comfort and style, Lestat was still rather humble when it came to his place at the head of their Court. But Gregory didn’t want to discourage this project Louis had in mind, this gift.
“I will send you their contact information and tell them you will be in touch.” Gregory couldn’t help but glance around the large closet at all the other extravagances it held. He had not often been in Lestat’s personal rooms at the chateau, and he felt like a child in a candy shop any time he found himself within them. “Perhaps a crown which holds some similarities to the cloak he received after bringing down the wolves as a mortal. Something lined with wolf fur, some red velvet.” Gregory’s gaze returned to Louis, one arched brow raised in query.
Louis shook his head again, but this time in a way that meant he didn’t agree with the idea. “I know we are in this place because it is his ancestral home, but that life had nothing to do with me,” he confessed, and again he felt a pang of lament, and a different sort of separation from Lestat.
Louis lifted the case with the Russian crown and scepter set, walking the short distance to return it to the armoire. “Would it be an insult, to those who gifted these items to perhaps modify or use aspects from them in the creation of this new crown?”
“It would be an insult, yes,” Gregory immediately confirmed. “These gifts are personal to those who gifted them, even though Lestat may not feel such personal attachment in response. If they see that his consort has taken it upon himself to modify these gifts, I can’t imagine they would feel anything but slighted.” Gregory was surprised Louis asked this question. Was he perhaps not as skilled in etiquette as he let on? Perhaps just not Court etiquette, Gregory decided. After all, when had Louis ever served in such a capacity?
Gregory smiled warmly. “I think, Louis, that all you really need to do is impress upon Lestat how strongly you feel for him and his role as our Prince. When I receive a gift from any of my loved ones, if they deliver it with great love and affection, then I cherish it all the more. Do you understand what I am saying?” He looked into Louis’s eyes, wondering if the younger vampire would fully understand his implication, but not wanting to outright say the words. Louis was from such a reserved and inhibited time in history. Gregory knew he clung still to privacy, especially in matters such as sharing intimacy of the Blood.
A flicker of confusion crossed Louis’s features, and he simply stared back at Gregory in silence for several moments. His thoughts had been ensnared utterly by that one word.
Consort.
Louis mouthed it silently back to a Gregory, having been stilled completely in his movement to put away the other crown in its gilded box.
“I understand,” Louis said, his words soft, his thoughts jumbled and varied, as his mind danced with all the myriad possibilities that one word entailed. Both frightening and yet exceedingly secretively thrilling was this word for him, and Louis wondered how many more ancients and young ones alike were already using it for him since he’d taken his place at Court earlier this year. Marius had likened him already unto a particular Duke in history, with all that title had implied, but now…this word.
Louis’s heart had skipped more than several unmistakable beats before he moved again, taking up the second jewel case and returning it seemingly much more carefully to the armoire, lest he grow careless and drop it with his mind’s reeling.
The pale blush rushing to Louis’s face could easily be seen by Gregory’s preternatural vision, and the stuttering of his heart was impossible to miss. How interesting that he’d had this reaction to the single word ‘consort’ and not so much to Gregory’s suggestion that he offer his blood to demonstrate his deep feelings when delivering the gift to Lestat.
Gregory thought about this word, consort, and Louis’s almost schoolboy reaction to hearing this title for himself. Gregory had been among Queen Akasha’s many consorts. He clearly recalled the day she’d pulled him out of the line of guards and made it clear he’d be joining the ranks of those who visited her bed chambers. There had been some knowing looks and hard playful nudges from the other young men. He hadn’t been a blushing youth, though. He’d been boastful, cocky, bold, too much a proud puffed up rooster among the other guards and soldiers, but at the same time, a deep undercurrent of dread and doom flowed within him. This didn’t rise to the top until well into his service to her, and he could feel her losing interest, signaling death by King Enkil’s hands was near.
But this was vastly different. This consort title was completely different from the one the mortal Nebamun had held. “I mean that title in the most respectful, honorable meaning of the word, you understand.” Gregory bowed his dark head toward Louis, showing his deference to this man who always sat to the right of Lestat in their Court.
Louis nodded as he closed up the armoire, not in the least bit offended, knowing Gregory’s past as he did. He gave Gregory a somewhat bashful smile. “Yes of course. And I thank you for your counsel. I will contact the jewelers you suggest. Price is no object, and they will be compensated handsomely for their work.” All business again, or trying to be, was Louis, willing his fluttering heartbeat to calm.
Gregory brightened, a charming smile gracing his face. “There is to be a grand Christmas ball next month. It will be good for the tribe to come together again now that some time has passed since all the drama with Amel. You will be attending, I assume?” Gregory moved slowly around the closet, touching this or that object, admiring a particularly beautiful golden statuette of a lion in repose.
“Yes, I will attend.” Louis answered with another nod. “I hope to gift the crown to Lestat in private just before that ball, that he might wear it. I realize with such a deadline as that, it may be too much to ask of a mortal artist. So if you know of any among us, then I would seek them out first.”
Louis thought in silence for several seconds then lifted his hand. “Will it offend if he wears one I give him, though he refused others? Should I abandon the idea altogether?”
Gregory turned back to Louis, a small indentation between his brows as he considered. This young one was so very serious about this crown gift. “I’m sure they will understand. He has several crowns to choose from. If he favors yours, what could they possibly do about it?”
It was hard for Louis not to think too deeply about all of this, about the many members of their kind who would attend the ball and what they might think. He hardly wanted to sew enmity among them. Quite the opposite, he wanted Lestat to be seen as a well and proper figurehead to their people, a unification of community and of purpose that their kind might flourish in this modern world in which they found themselves.
Yes, their Prince needed his true crown.