Mekare stood behind Maharet, her eyes barely able to look from the floor. She lived every day with the knowledge that her sister loved the very man that had raped her, that had cut out her tongue. She could not even look at him for she feared the rage would take over her soul. She respected her sister far too much.
Marius exited the room with much fanfare. He was in rare form tonight. Mekare wondered if the separation from Pandora that the world gates afforded us caused his instability for it was a rare occurrence that he would talk to the elders with such angst. He was almost always extremely respectful of all the First Brood.
When Maharet mentioned that she could not allow the deaths of the Romanus clan, it wasn’t a heartfelt sentiment that drove her conviction. It was the knowledge that this clan more than any other had the potential to survive the ages and blend into humanity, rather than destroy it. They were the future of our kind.
In her silent voice she asked, “The Tower is surrounded by a moat of water right?” Maharet answered her fully, “Yes.” Khayman knew she was replying to her sister and not him. He was quite used to it. “Then I will raise the water to form a wall around the fortress to ensure no one can get out without word from you,” Mekare told her sister. Maharet smiled and nodded. “I will raise the temperature in the place sending all the vampires scurrying to the courtyard. Khayman, you’ll go with me to confront David. And he will give us Merida, if he doesn’t we kill him,” Maharet said facing Khayman. “That will surely stir the Queen,” Khayman retorted. “And so it will,” Maharet said.
Maharet started walking out of the door, Khayman and Mekare in tow. To the great room where the rest were gathered. She eventually convinced Marius, or rather ordered him, to let Va’lis and Armand fight for their loved ones.
In two thousand years she had never had to interfere in Marius’ domain until now. He had been a faithfully loyal subject. But Marius had softened. His need for Pandora and a family with her had done so much harm to the man’s resolution. Pandora had always been Marius’ true love and his one true weakness. His desire to make her happy had often overtaken his responsibility to lead this coven and its bloodlines.
Mekare wondered if he would be the head of this coven for much longer. She foretold Maharet once that Marius would suffer a great death; one befitting of the Roman Legionnaire he had once been. That he would sacrifice himself for the ones he loved. Could this be it? Would Va’lis loose the father he had only just gained? Would Armand ever forgive himself for the words of hate he would direct his way this evening? Would Pandora survive the death of the only man she has ever loved? Would Lestat be able to push through the grieving loss of what he considers his teacher and his friend?
The depth of what this man means to so many cannot be measured. And it could never be equaled. Sire, master, protector, teacher, husband, father, grandfather, and most of all keeper — he was all these things and more. But has his time come? Or rather has it spent? One thing is for certain Mekare thought, “There will never be another Marius.”