Chapter Text
He just wanted to save his sister.
That’s all.
Grace was everything to Louis. Sure, he loved his mother well enough, and his mad brother was close to his heart, but Grace? Grace knew him. Grace was the first to accept him for who he was underneath it all. Out of everyone in that house, Grace was the only person that actually understood him better than anyone.
So, when the Prince’s men came around, saying she’d been selected to become his bride, Louis didn’t even give it a second thought to sabotage it all. Everyone in Storyville knew what happened if you became the enigmatic Prince’s bride. You go up to that big ol’ house in the distance that loomed over the place, and you never come out again. Several people went to that place. Fathers and brothers trying to get back their daughters and sisters. Sons searching for their missing mothers. It didn’t matter to the prince if the woman was married or not. It didn’t matter what her status was. If he selected them, they became his.
He’ll give the families or whomever the women lived with money and that would be that.
But he’s not going to let it happen. Not to his beloved sister. If that bougie ass rich fuck think he’ll let Grace go to her death, he got another thing comming. Louis will see to that.
The carriage pulled up to the house. Louis looked on as men dressed in the finest suits filed out and knocked on the door. He gripped his walking stick before unsheathing it. Yeah, he was ready and willing to die for his family. For Grace.
His mother had argued with him earlier. Saying they couldn’t change anything. If the Prince wants Grace, he’ll have her.
“And he’ll kill us all if you do this!” Mama Florence’s shrill voice could break glass with how high it was. Her fear was palpable. Everything about her her eyes nervously flickering about as if the prince himself would jump out of the walls at any moment. She looked most like Paul in those moments when he was caught in the throes of fearful madness. “He doesn’t like being denied, Louis! Didn’t you hear what happened to that beautiful girl, Lily?”
Louis had closed his eyes then. Lily. Miss Lily. Yeah, he remembered her. Unknown to his mother, he knew her real well. In trying to cure himself of his less than favorable desires, he’d gone to her many a night. Fruitless, of course. Fooling himself maybe, but she had always made him feel good afterwards.
And then she got chosen.
Louis steeled himself against that memory now as the men beat at his door. Calling for Grace de Pointe du Lac. Saying that it’s no use in hiding her. They’ll take her by force if needed.
Louis felt a sneer curl up on the corner of his lips. It transforms into a grin. They’re too late, of course. Louis had packed his family up hours ago while the sun was high and bright, making it look like they were going on a nice family picnic, and sent them off with Lev– a family friend of sorts– to another territory all together. One outside of Storyville. One, he’d hoped, where they would be safe from this mad prince.
The door breaks. They’re in the house.
He turned to face the door. Everything in this house. All the memories of climbing to the roof to see the sunset or rise with his brother rush back to him. Memories of his sister’s kindly advice and humor when he felt like shit. His mother’s knowing look when he came home from the streets. It’s all there. Even the ones with his father’s judgemental gaze as he spun all the cash that touched his fingertips before losing himself to it all that had left them penniless.
He took in all those memories. Even the worst ones. He buried them inside himself. Next to him on the table was a bottle of liquor. First bit of expensive liquor he’d brought into the house for a purpose that hadn’t been determined when he purchased it. He just knew he would need it. And God above, he needed it now.
They came up the stairs, searching the house from bottom to the top for Grace.
Then, finally, they found him.
“Where’s the girl?” One of them finely dressed men asked. “Don’t be stupid now, boy. We only came for her.”
“You won’t find her here, sir .” He spat it out as if it was a bitter taste in his mouth. “You won’t ever find her.”
“Enough of this!” Another one of them said, “ Get him. We’ll just beat it out of him.”
They surged. He grabbed the bottle and threw it at them– cracking the head of one of them stone cold. It might be awkward to fight in this small space, but Louis was not going to go down without a fight. And fight he did. Until he realized, with panting breath, sweat clinging to his skin, that the blade had no effect on them.
“What the fuck ?” The words tumbled out of his mouth just as one of them grabbed him and the fight continued giving him only time for one last thought:
That at least his family would be safe.
***
It’s always been something of an amusement when these foolish creatures come to his illustrious home that had been carefully curated with the finest furnishings that money could buy, and demand the return of his brides. It’s infinitely more hilarious to watch how each one reacted when he told them no. Or, if he was feeling rather bored that day, he told them that the women were dead. If he was infinitely bored– or, you know, maybe a bit annoyed in the slightest– he would then explain in excruciating detail while also showing them, in great detail, how he killed them.
Wash and repeat.
It does get so extraordinarily tedious though. Every time he turns around, it’s always, “ where’s my daughter!’ this or “Let my mother go!” that. And even the, “ What have you done with my son?” on occasions.
Do they ever get creative? Perhaps he should hire more entertainment for the square? Let some of these people at least absorb something from the playwrights. They seem to sorely need it.
Which is why, when his little toy soldiers returned with a human who’s face, though bruised, was probably the most attractive one he’s found in an extremely long time. Even better, as he skimmed the minds of them all, was his defiance in the face of beings stronger than him. What interested him wasn’t so much that the little upstart of a human tried– Oh, many have tried and many have failed miserably to rebel against him and his control– to keep his chosen bride from him.
No, no, that’s not it, though it was a bonus.
It’s the taste of him. There’s something quite fatalistic about this man that continued to defy him even though his senses told him something else. Well, he could forgive it. Many a human found him attractive. Some of those that came to the castle-like manor he inhabited, took one look at him and threw themselves at his feet for a night. He pitied them, if only a bit. It must be so hard to be in the same room as him and not be kissed.
Such was his life. A curse, he knows.
As he pondered what to do with this particularly gorgeous specimen of humanity, the human decided to speak. Though the way he spoke it’s as if they were beneath him. Curious.
“If you’re going to kill me, then do it already!” The man spat at him. “I’m never going to tell you where they are!”
“That’s because you don’t know.” Lestat answered with an amused tone. Most would be begging for their lives about now. The weakest willed ones would offer up the chosen bride and some other woman. It’s not like he did this so often, was it? “And for whatever reason you think you’ve bravely saved your dearest– ah, yes, – sister? You’ve only doomed her to an unfortunate life outside my protection.”
He watched the man’s nose flare. He could, quite easily, read his mind as it happened. He wondered if the man would say it out loud.
“Your protection? You’re nothing more than a greedy life-sucking- piece of shit!” That was just the first line of insults to his person. Whatever one may say, this man –de Pointe du lac, if he recalled the family right– had such a way with words.
Lestat hid his grin. Oh, yes. This could be fun.
“I’ve made up my mind.” Lestat said suddenly, standing up. “Release him.”
“Sire?” One of the soldiers queried before immediately letting the man go at the look Lestat gave him, “ Yes, sire.”
“Now, leave.” He told the soldiers and watched as they did so obediently. He then walked around the man, appraising him as if he were a rare new jewel he’d acquired. A rough cut of a jewel that with time and polishing could be the most dazzling thing in the entire manor.
And would belong solely to him.
“Since you will not give me your sister, Mr. de Pointe du lac–” The man jerked. Lestat only smiled while coming to stand in front of him. He reached out, watching those beautiful brown eyes widen at the action, and cupped his chin, “ — Then I have no choice but to take you, instead.”