Rating: G
Midnight Clear -Kristen Fife 12/2005

Summary: It is the 12th Century and Lucien and Janette
are traveling and have a brief encounter one clear
Advent Night.

December of 1198 

Janette and Lucien pulled up their horses, the jingle
of harness and creak of leather pronounced in the
silence surrounding them. The glittering snow
reflected the light of the moon and stars like a white
blanket of diamonds. Plumes of steam arose from their
mounts’ nostrils as they stood atop the hilltop gazing
down at the demesne below them. A large manor house
built of gray stone nestled in a hollow in the bend of
the river, a small village a mile or so to the east of
the house. 

Warm firelight glowed through the windows of the
house, and the sensitive hearing of the two vampires
could discern music and laughter in the village far
below them. Bonfires could be seen dotting the hills
and countryside, and the village church bells chimed
Compline on this clear winter Advent night. 

Lucien glanced at Janette, noting the gleam in her
eyes as she started to anticipate the hunt for prey. 
He smiled at this daughter he had made. He had never
chosen truer when he brought her across. Her hands
rested easily on the reins, encased in blue kid
leather. 

At that moment both of them turned in their saddles at
the sound of several horses on the road behind them,
and the beating of  human hearts and clinking of armor
clear in their ears. Coming around a bend in the road
they could make out a procession of  soldiers bearing
a standard drooping upon a pole. A nobleman and his
escort, no doubt. The vampires remained silent as the
cavalcade approached. 

The leader of the group, a handsome man in his middle
years wearing a ducal coronet, saw them and
approached. Before him on his horse nestled the figure
of a young boy of about five, asleep. His tousled
golden curls and angelic face peeked from under a
heavy wool cloak wrapped around his slight slumbering
form. 

He raised his left hand, halting his men and rode
forward.

“Greetings, my lord and lady. Welcome to my lands.”

Lucien tipped his head forward in response. “Greetings
your Grace, thank you. Although you appear to be going
toward your home.”

The man smiled. “Aye, we have just returned from
Paris. We pushed on into the night to try and arrive
for the Advent Season.” He paused, obviously curious
about the two solitary travelers. “May I venture to
say that you and the lady are abroad quite late? These
roads are not safe, even in winter.”

A secretive smile crossed Lucien’s mouth. “Thank you
for your concern. My daughter and I are aware of the
dangers, but I assure you we are quite safe. Aren’t
we, my dear?”

Janette, who had been silent up until that moment, her
face hidden within the hood of her cloak, raised her
head to look at the nobleman before her. “Yes,
Father.” She smiled and both of them heard the rapid
increase in the heartbeats of the half dozen men at
the sight of her beautiful face. Hunger gnawed at both
of them, but there were too many mortals for them to
feed at the moment.

“Please, my lord and lady, allow me to offer you the
hospitality of Brabant.” 

Lucien shook his head. They did not dare draw
attention to themselves, now. “Again, thank you for
your offer and concern, but we must press on. We have
several leagues to go yet before we rest.”

The Duke sighed. “Very well. May God go with you and
grant you peace this Advent season.” He turned his
horse and his men followed him down the hill. 

Janette watched them, and Lucien felt a quiver of
emotion from her.

“Janette?”

She turned to face her sire. “His son was beautiful,
was he not?”

Lucien realized she had felt a stab of maternal
stirrings in her. “Yes, he was. But he is none of our
concern. We must be away for our dinner.”

She nodded and fell in next to him as he turned his
horse back the way they had come, to follow the branch
in the road they had not taken earlier in the night.
The Duchy of Brabant celebrated under the full moon in
peace, undisturbed by their thirst for blood this
season of charity and goodwill.


"The price for this gift is the darkness of the night, and
the blood of humanity to sustain you." -THICKER THAN WATER,
Kristen Fife in progress