Vampyres: Fluff: Truths Told, pt. 1 (warning)

["A. Fraser" <redoak@interlog.com>]

This is the story that I wrote for Bloodstock; though actually it was
started quite some time ago.  It is the story I promised to deliver this
century back during the Christmas v-party.  It is the story of why Baron
Gideon Redoak and Adrian Talbot hate each other.

Unfortunately, like all my serial fiction, this presupposes that you have
read a _lot_ of past stories.  And to fill in the parts of what you need to
know for this to make sense would take novels (trust me, it would).  If you
find yourself really confused, ask the author for help.

Warning:  this isn't pretty.  It's nasty and involves violence and nudity
and sex and all the other things that make a good story.  And no, the sex
isn't what you are automatically thinking.  Hah.

______

Truths Told
copyright 2000
by Anne Fraser
with the kind assistance of
L.M. Wallace
_______

"So, Adrian is coming to Meadowsweet Ridge?"  Gideon asked,  his expression
reflecting distaste for the idea.

"Yes," she responded, the one word loaded with defiance.  Yet she  lay a
hand on his arm, anticipating his response. 

Gideon closed his eyes and turned his head.  Every muscle and  bone in his
hands tensed, defined in stark relief, as he fought not to  clench them
into fists.  

"It is, of course, your prerogative," he said quietly.  

Pandora studied the ramrod straight back of the man beside her.   The arm
she was touching felt like a metal bar.  

"Gideon," the healer said gently.  "Yes, it is my prerogative, but I  wish
you would tell me why you are so against it."

One dark eye regarded her wryly, eyebrow raised like a signal flag.   "You
know my opinion of...Talbot."  Gideon's beautiful  pronunciation made the
name an insult.  "I do not understand why  you would willingly risk
exposing your child to such a harmful  influence."

"Adrian would never hurt Aisling!"  Pandora exclaimed, looking  surprised
at such a suggestion.

"Do you think not?"

Pandora glanced around the parlour at Oakwoods.  Nobody was  paying any
particular attention to them.  Aisling, who had  discovered the joys of
walking and not looked back since, was the  centre of careful attention.
All three of the Oakwoods Boys were  trying to keep him out of trouble,
while Nicholas watched with a  benevolent eye and an amused expression.

"I haven't seen your roses in a while, dear," Pandora said, exerting
gentle pressure on Gideon's arm.  "Will you show them to me?"

It took him a second, then he inclined his head.  

"Of course," he said, rising.  "We'll be in the conservatory," he  informed
Joshua.

Josh waggled the duck puppet with which he was trying to divert  Aisling.
"Go ahead," he laughed.  "We're fine."  He winked at  Pandora.

Gideon and Pandora walked in silence down the hall to the  conservatory.
When Gideon slid the glass door open and ushered  her in, Pandora took a
moment to...well, to stop and smell the  roses.  A clever system of
ventilation kept the perfume of the  pampered blooms from being
overpowering.  

The roses were Gideon's hobby, an outlet for his artistic tastes.  He felt
that cultivating roses was an acceptable pursuit for a gentleman  --
appearances meant so much to him.  He paused to study a cluster of blooms
of deep red, giving himself a chance to marshal his thoughts and curb his
emotions.  He knew he would no longer be able to avoid the subject
of Adrian Talbot.



* * *

"Gideon," Pandora said, when the silence threatened to stretch into
infinity, "talk to me, love.  What is so terrible about Adrian Talbot  that
his very name drives you to fury?"

The Baron sat down heavily on a bench under a spreading bush.   He folded
his hands in his lap so that she wouldn't see them  shake.  

"You know what," he replied, eyes downcast.  "His behaviour at the  Golden
Fangs ceremonies, taunting me and the Brotherhood..."  

Pandora shook her head.  "Dear one, you cannot make me believe  that a few
petty insults from a sore loser would make you so angry.   Had it been
anyone else, you would have laughed it off.  You are  not that
thin-skinned, Gideon.  And why would he have chosen you  as a target for
his insults if there was not some history between  you?  No, there is more."  

"Yes.  There is more."

"Does it involve Ravensbrook?"

He jumped, as if stung or jolted by electricity.  "How did you know?"

"Nothing else would make you hate someone so utterly, Gideon.   So, tell
me. You've been keeping this inside too long.  Tell me what  he did to you."  

His eyes focused on the far side of the room, where two-storey  high glass
panels gave the roses sunlight that their owner never  saw.  He started to
speak, so softly that Pandora had to lean  towards him.  

"I do not know how long I had been in France," he began.  "Time  meant
nothing in that place.  Ravensbrook was still delighting in  tormenting me,
he had not yet tired of this sport.  There were  others there, his servants
and minions, a rag-tag assortment of  such dregs as amused him.  Most of
the time, he did not even have  to recruit them.  They flocked to him,
drawn by his reputation or his  damnable charisma...  

"Ravensbrook would introduce these "friends" to me.  They joined  in my
torment, sometimes with sex acts, sometimes with beatings  or torture.
Ravensbrook would always be present to observe and  make certain that they
didn't go too far.  'You must not destroy my  pet too soon,' he would
say..."  

Gideon shuddered, but mastered himself while Pandora could only  watch.
Now she understood why he never spoke of those times.  

"There was often someone new, another mocking face. I learned  the hard way
not to expect help from these hangers-on.  

"One night, I was hauled naked from my cell by my master and  dragged into
one of the many bedrooms in the keep -- one where  whips and chains were
standard decorations.  There were stocks  at one end of the room, and
Ravensbrook locked me into one of  these.  I had learned quickly not to
resist or fight back.  Though I  no longer cared about anything, I noticed
that there was someone  lounging on the bed. Once again I was being offered
for the  entertainment of one of my master's "guests". I did not recognize
this one; a dark-haired, rather pretty young man with remarkable
blue-green eyes and a cruel smile.  

"'Did I not promise you fine entertainment, my dear boy?'  Ravensbrook
asked this stranger.  

"'And what is this?' asked the boy mockingly.

"He was English! I dared to hope, to think... Could I appeal to a  fellow
Englishman for help, one of about my own age...?  

"'This is my greatest treasure,' Ravensbrook smiled, stroking my
cheek.  'My own little catamite, my pet aristocrat.'

"His ears pricked up at that, and he said 'Aristocrat?' with interest.

"'Ah, thought that would interest you,' Ravensbrook said to him.   'Yes,
dear Adrian, this is a member of the vaunted ruling class, one  of those
lordly beings who would spit on a mere actor.  A lowly  Baron, mind you,
but still far above a wandering player."  He  grabbed me by the hair,
forcing my chin up.  "And he is a  Puritan, is that not delicious?'  

"Of course, I had never embraced my father's cold religion, nor had  I ever
raised a hand to a player of any kind.  But Ravensbrook's  words seemed to
inflame this strange young man, so that he got  off the bed and came over
to the stocks where I was held.  He, too,  was naked; but he seemed totally
unashamed. And he stared at  me, with those eyes... and there was madness
in them and my  hope died.  

"'Oh, aye?" he taunted.  'A Puritan, and a noble?'  He spat in
my face.  'What a fine catch.  Has it a name?'

"'Baron Gideon Redoak,' Ravensbrook smiled.  'Or what's left of  him.
Young lord, this is my newest friend, Adrian Talbot.  He's one  of those
players that your religion would have put in the stocks and  whipped.'  

"Talbot smiled slowly.  I saw no love for me in that smile.

"'I see you have already gone halfway to reversing that situation,' the
player said, eyes gleaming.

"'I thought I would give you the honours,' Ravensbrook said.  He  turned to
a rack that held assorted whips, straps and other such  implements.  'It
would be the cat, would it not?' he inquired,  fingering the dreadful
nine-tailed whip in question.  At Talbot's eager  nod, my bloodmaster
handed over the cat o'nine tails.  'Have fun,'  was all he said.  

"The player's hand grasped the stock eagerly.  Ravensbrook  watched, his
own eyes gleaming.  And he swung that cat as if he  would make me pay for
every insult, every spurning, every closed  door he had ever suffered.  And
afterwards, when the blood ran  freely and my skin was in rags, they made
me watch while they  coupled.  

"His lusts satisfied, Ravensbrook got up to leave.  'I must go find  some
blood to keep him going,' he said, stroking my hair.  He  turned his eyes
on Talbot, still lying in bliss on the bed. 'You may  amuse yourself with
him, if it pleases you.'  With that, he left the  room.  

"When I knew he was truly gone, I tried to appeal to this  debauched boy,
even though I knew it would be useless.  He was  my only chance.  

"'Help me,' I begged him, through the pain.

"'Did you speak, milord?' mocked the player, sitting upright in the  bed.

"'Please help me,' I tried again, although I knew there would be no
help from such a one.

"'Oh, you want me to help you!'  Talbot tumbled out of the bed and  walked
over to the stocks.  'Does it gall, oh most noble Baron, that  you must beg
for help from a lowly player's boy?'  

"I coughed, spasming in pain.  Blood dribbled from my lips.  "'Please,' I
said.  'You are English.  Help me.'  

"'Oh, yes, milord, I am English.  And as much beneath your notice  as a
stray dog.  Were we to meet on the street in London, Baron,  you would whip
me from your path.  What matters it to you that  there are children begging
in the gutters, so long as your dinner  awaits you in your warm ancestral
hall? I, help you?'"  He declared,   "'I would help you to the kiss of
sunlight, save I have no desire to  take your place as Ravensbrook's
plaything.'  

"Talbot spat and said no more.  He left when Ravensbrook returned  to the
room, hurriedly donning his clothes.  Ravensbrook taunted  him for this
desertion, but did not pursue him.  

"'What a tiresome child,' my bloodmaster said.  'Still, I predict a  dark
future for him if continues on his present path.  I will keep an  eye on
him... it would not do for me to have a rival, now, would it?'  

"'Yours?' I dared to ask.

"My sire laughed.  "'No, young lord, not my get.  He is the spawn  of old
Carrock, who rather stupidly allowed a rival master to stick a  crossbow
bolt into him.  It left that arrogant young pup masterless.   He seems to
need someone to belong to, but he does not seem to  fancy me.  Pity.  I did
my best to cater to his debauched tastes.'  

"He held out the goblet he had brought with him, and I drank the  blood
forced on me. I never again saw the player in Ravensbrook's  company.  

"I had hoped that he had somehow angered my sire, and that  Ravensbrook had
killed him," Gideon said to Pandora, as his  narrative of remembered terror
ended.  "But no, over the years and  decades I heard tales of Adrian
Talbot, the actor vampire; and each  tale confirmed his amorality.  Imagine
how I felt when he set foot  upon that stage at the Golden Fangs!  And when
we met, face-to- face again..."  He slowly steadied himself and looked at
Pandora.   "Now you know why I advise you not to trust him with your
child,"  he said.  

Pandora was silent, absorbing the information Gideon had shared.   During
the telling she had often flinched, her body reacting with  sympathetic
pain to that which Gideon had endured.  Now she sat  very still, hands
folded in her lap, eyes cast downwards.  She had  expected to hear
something of this nature, but knew that nothing  could have truly prepared
her to deal with the absolute horror of the  actuality. She knew there was
little she could do to comfort  Gideon; no way to erase a lingering pain
from a scar long- yet ill- healed.  He spoke of echoes, of memories traced
into tissue.   These things the body remembered, even if the mind failed.
And  Gideon had not told her this for comfort, but for warning.  She had,
after all, insisted.   

Gideon gazed at her as if expecting her to speak.  When she did  not, he
broke the silence.  " Well?"  he asked calmly.  

Pandora looked up at him through tear-blurred eyes. "I--I don't know- -"
she broke off, words eluding her.  

"Will you still allow Adrian to visit?" Gideon asked pointedly.

Pandora swallowed hard to dissolve the lump in her throat, but  when she
spoke her voice was husky.  "Yes, Gideon."

"Pandora, did you not hear--?"  

She interrupted by lifting her hand.  "I heard and felt everything,"   she
said softly, wincing slightly as if in emphasis.  

She sighed.  It was not her place to try to defend Adrian, even if  she
could.  Truth was, she knew the man Gideon spoke of was  unquestionably
Adrian, that, even with the considerable changes  the man had been through
in the last few years, _that_ Adrian still  existed within the complex
layers which had been built over the  many years.  Adrian, the consummate
actor, who used others  before they could use him.  Who expected nothing
more than  manipulation and gave nothing less.  And in that lay the crux,
really, for it was clear to her that the Adrian Gideon had  encountered had
been playing a role for Ravensbrook.  His reasons  were unclear to her, but
no doubt self-preservation was a primary  motivation.  Only in hearing
Adrian's side of the story could she  hope to come to at least an
approximation of the truth, of what the  incident truly imported.   

"I do not comprehend cruelty, Gideon, in any guise or for any  reason.  I
understand your feelings towards Adrian," she paused,  laying a hand over
his own and squeezing briefly before standing.   

She paced over to a lovely old French rose, lightly fingering a silken
blush blossom whose petals drifted to the floor at her touch.  She  turned
back to face the Baron.  

" But I have made my own decision about this man based on what I  have come
to know of him, on how I have come to know him  personally.  While what you
have told me raises questions,  certainly, it does not change my
fundamental acceptance of him.  I  consider him a friend, Gideon.  That is
not something which comes  lightly for me in any circumstance."   

"And am I not your friend as well?  Would you trust him over me?"  
Gideon asked pointedly, still seated calmly on the bench.

Pandora shook her head sadly.  "It is not a matter of trust, Gideon.  The
trustworthiness of a friend is not something that can be  quantified or
compared.  In the naming of one as "friend," it implies,  for me, that
there is trust.  It exists without the asking, without the  proving.  I
would like to speak with Adrian about this, if I may--"  

Gideon sighed.  "You do not need my permission to speak with 
whomever you wish, Pandora."  

She held his gaze. "For this, I do.  It concerns you."

He squared his shoulders.  It had been a long, long time even as 
vampires measured time.  The memories would never fade, never 
heal; the hatred for Ravensbrook and his ilk still burned even 
though the bloodmaster was ashes and gone.  Gideon's immortal 
flesh showed no scars from his time in the Keep, always he had 
been healed before being tortured again.  His mind, his spirit... the 
scars there were deep and still pained him.  It had been extremely 
difficult talking about his experiences to Pandora, and that had 
been only one small part of his torment in his master's hands.  
Yet... it was true, sharing the pain with someone else had 
lessened it.  Perhaps he could face his memories, his hate; one 
aspect of them at least.  Perhaps he could learn the other side of 
the story after over three hundred years of hating.  

"Yes," he said softly.  "Speak to him."
__________
To be continued.

Baron Gideon Redoak,  redoak@interlog.com
"Tell me you do not want to become a vampire because it is... what is that
expression?... cool." (From "Reprise" by A. Fraser)
Oakwoods Home Page: http://www.crosswinds.net/~redoak/ 
Centre Stage: http://www.redrival.com/thatactor/
My Other Home Page:  http://members.tripod.com/~Anne_F/index.html
The Site Formerly Known as Oakwoods: http://www.geocities.com/SoHo/Lofts/3743/