Once upon a time, that is how all fairy tales start isn’t it? End in happily ever after? Not this story. There’s no real moral to teach the children. No happy ending to hope for. Simply because it has not ended. And even simpler that it is not a story at all but reality.

This is a story of family, of courage, and a bond that centuries could not tarnish.

On January 1st 1459, Solange Dubois was born into the loving family of Aubry, Marie and big brother Nicodeme Dubois. Nico at first had the usual jealousies that come when a new sibling is born. But as he and his sister grew older a strong bond began to form. Solange was as lovely as her mother even as a young girl. Blonde ringlets and striking blue eyes. Nico was always the strong handsome man his father was. And he would do anything to be the man he thought his father was. Aubry being a hard worker and teaching Nico the value of a hard day’s work even at a young age.

Some days when Nico was out cleaning the horses stall, Solange would come to find him. Ask the endless questions a younger sibling asks. Because to Solange, Nicodeme knew everything. And he always had the best stories to tell. Though sometimes it may have annoyed him telling fairytales to his sister, it did make the work go faster.

Then there were the times to go to market. Marie would bring the children to help sell their crop. Even though Nico was to be helping his mother his time was mostly spent keeping Solange out of trouble. She had a spitfire tongue since the day she could talk. Many a black eye for the boy was a result of that.

By the ripe old age of twelve Nico was introduced to a darker side of the world. A darkness that lived within his own home that he never knew and forever shattered him. One night Nico was awoken by the familiar creak of the door into the room that he and Solange shared. Only thinking maybe their mother had come to check on them he held still. Pretending to sleep. But by the candle light that the figure entered held it was not their mother at all but their father. Quietly sneaking his way to Solange’s bed. Nico watched in silent horror as his father knelt by his sister’s bed. Catching whispers of things that he knew where not right to be said to a little girl. The look in the man’s eyes as they gleamed from candle light were not that of a doting father, nor was the way he stroked her hair. Something wasn’t right, his guts twisted, hurt and anger tore at his heart. This was his father. How do you go against that? But that was his sister and he’d never let anyone hurt her not even him. Just as Aubry was pulling down the cover, as the sleepy little blonde stirred in her dreams, Nico leapt from his bed. Dashing at his father and pushing him down with all his strength.

“Laissez-la tranquille!” Screamed the young boy. The beating was bad for his interference. Solange crying in her bed as she watched. Not knowing why, only told her brother had done wrong. From then on Nico did many wrongs. Whether in truth he did or not. Never had Solange found out the reasons behind it.

From then on it was rare Solange was out of his sight. Especially around their father. Though physically he paid greatly through the years his mind was at ease knowing his sister was safe. During this time too Solange's own hate grew toward Aubry for treating her brother so terribly. Many a night she spent helping patch him up. Many a night he lied about the reasons for his punishments. Inevitably distracting her with new stories to stop the questions.

Eventually this way of life passed. Even though Solange became more beautiful with age. Nico became stronger and Aubry only got older. He was smart enough to know he couldn't take the boy on anymore. Now Nico's only concern was the wrong kind of suitors courting his sister.

Of which there were many.

Nico too had his fair share of ladies out for his attention. To which his little sister would weed out the ones not good enough for her brother.

Now even in this time the bond had caught unfounded attentions. Whispers and rumors of incest. Again resulting in bloody knuckles and a few black eyes for Nico.

The bond of the siblings to caught the attention of the Master of Merseille, Celeste. In part because of jealousy, for her long time lover, Leandrea, had taken a liking to Solange. Even to the point of neglecting his mistress to stalk her.

So Celeste made a deal with Leandrea. He could have the object of his silly desires and she would get the boy. If for nothing more than her own amusement. Certainly Nico was handsome but his rage and suffering would taste so much better.

The game set into motion Celeste sent Leandrea off to get the girl. Making his move on the night of a small town festival. Luring Solange away from her friends with all the charms of the Belle Morte line. Enticing her all the way back to the bordello where the Kiss resided. Deep below the facade of a whore house he took everything from her. Not just life but what remained of her innocence and virtue.

In the following days that Solange was missing the family was beside themselves in constant worry of what had happened to their beautiful girl. Nico most of all. Fear and blame riddled through him. Then on the third night a frightened and desheveled Solange came home. Colapsing through the front door pail and weary. When Marie went to her beloved daughter she was halted, screaming in horror at fangs and the hungry eyes that stared back her. Aubry coming to the aid of his wife's screams only to fine the nightmare on the floor of his home. Poor Solange still not quite understanding, because when she woke Celeste hand thrown her out explaining nothing, leaving her to run home scared and hungry to her family. All part of her little game. If people died in the process it just made it better.

Some luck was with Solange that night. Because just before Aubry was to strike down his daughter with the poker from the fire place, Nicodeme came through the door to hear...

"Devil's prostituee. Gravez en efer!"

"Non!" Nico yelled. Snatching the poker before it could strike. Throwing it aside and dropping to Solange's side. When he brushed the blood stained tears from her face he too saw the fangs. Swallowing back his own horror and whispering to her.

"Je vais resoudre ce probleme. Je vais resoudre ce probleme, je promets."

Tears in his own scared eyes as he looked into hers. Seeing so much gone from them. The fear quickly turned to rage. Annoyance even at their parents. Marie hysterical crying and praying. Aubry yelling and cursing. As Nico held tight to his beloved sister he looked at his father with the most cold and hateful stare.

"Elle est pas si beau a vous maintement vous sale batard. Vous etes plus d'un monstre que'elle ne sera jamais." Spat with all the venom he'd held in for so long.

With that he scooped Solange up and carried her from there. To find who had done this and make them fix it. If it could be done or not he was going to try.

The last thing he remembers after kicking open the door to the bordello was his sister slipping from his arms at the call of Leandre. He didn't see her feed anything because he made one mistake. When his eyes took in the room they were caught in the gaze of Celeste. The last moments of his living life were spent in pain and fear. The physical pain she brought without a touch brought him to his knees. The mental anguish was far worse. Throwing at him all his fears and beatings. The very last pain was the fangs sinking into the pulse of his throat.

Three nights later he rose in a fury. Nico wanted his sister and he wanted away from this. Not at all understanding what he'd been turned into. Though it wasn't long before he realized. Before the hunger blinded him. Celeste brought him his first gift. A girl from the village he'd been courting. He couldn't see her past the blood he wanted coursing through her veins. The power he felt after he fed was almost instantly intoxicating. The girl lay dead in his arms he looked up to his Mistress and she smiled. Impressed by what she had made and what she knew he could become. All she had to do was tame him.

That is what she set out to do. Celeste taught Nicodeme all about his abilities by using the power on him. The boy was strong and stubborn the more she "taught" the more she bent his will to her own. Rewarding him with visits to Solange. And she knew that was honestly more torture. Solange being of Belle Morte's line doesn't exactly include the same sort of training. Seeing what his sister had to do, really was made to witness often, tore at him.

There is only so long you can see something over and over until you grow numb to it. Cold to emotion and any feeling at all. He knew he still loved his sister. He just couldn't feel the pity anymore. It was a weakness as Celeste had pointed out in many painful ways. Power was fear. Power was pain. He was hers. That eventually was all there needed to be. Serve his Mistress. With a glimmer of hope one night he'd be free.

Over the years the hope died as his training went on. Celeste was tied to the human royal court and needed protection. That was what Nico was to be and more. To kill at her whim those who would threaten her or the king of France. Human and preternatural alike. Young and old. Indiscriminately. Trained for years by warriors of different cultures. Some at the hand picking of the Dragon herself. Fifty years of torture and training to make the perfect killer. Within that time and the next hundred and fifty surrounded by blood and death. Not a bat of an eye about it.

Until....

One night Celeste's kingdom came crashing down. The King could not save face without killing one of his vampires. For all the work Nico had done in her name Celeste was still at the bottom of the totem pole. She was captured and brought to death.

The moment the blade of the guillotine sliced through her neck Nico let go a breath he may have possibly been holding for two hundred years at that point. All he could think of was that he was free. Solange was free.

Sadly he was wrong.

Before he could blink things changed and he was brought to Moroven herself. Solange off to Belle's court. There was nothing more he could do and it was clear from the look in Moroven's eye she had no intent on letting him go any time soon. She brought him into her Kiss and continued the work Celeste had started. So impressed by her child and what she'd accomplished with Nico.

It wasn't long before Nicodeme realized Moroven and Celeste were two different animals. That he'd rather have died with his Mistress. Moroven was beautiful. Like a little Nordic Ice Princess. Colder than ice in so many ways. He killed for her jealousies. Any she thought competed with her beauty. And any she thought that would compete to be in his bed he'd watch die at her hand. The best tortures he learned came that way or done to himself. She was perfect at bringing pain. And could do it with a sweet smile all the while.

He never loved her. He feared her. She possessed him. He was an object of her will and a focus for her anger. In time the fear grew to hate. That hate sparked defiance, which may have not been smart on his part. All he wanted was to be free of her.

Any hope of that dwindled at his first attempt at escape.

Nicodeme had never been interested in the touch of another man. It disgusted him quite honestly. She knew this. Watched him carefully at the time when Belle's line would mingle in court. That was where Julius came in. He would be Nico's punishment. Perhaps the rape and torture would have been more tolerable had Julius been of Belle's line. But he was not. He was one of Morte D'Amore's.

Any memory ends there buried so deep away. Where Moroven hoped this lesson would break him, it did not. It drove the hate deeper and the need for freedom stronger. Outwardly he'd play the part of ever faithful. Broken toy. He was made to play parts. To get closer for the kill. He knew he couldn't kill her. But he knew he could find the opportunity, if he was patient, to run.

His patience won out in the very long run. Sometime in the mid 1800's he found his out. He'd been planning it for years. And the time had come. Sent on a mission of death far enough from her for once that once he did as he was asked he could go. Leave it behind. The only thing he had to do was get to Paris and get Solange back. That is what he did. Thankfully it was in his favor Moroven was busy enough in her own dealings to not realize he'd been gone longer. By the time she'd realized anything was amiss and called for him he pledged himself to another Master of the City in Cannes.

Before any of her other hunters could catch up he had his sister and they were on a boat to America. Far out of her reach.

For over a hundred years Nicodeme thought he was finally free. He and his sister finally safe from the life in Europe. Even in the last two years acquired his own city in Seattle. His own Triumvirate. Growing in power. Everything kept running smoothly and quite.

Time doesn't heal all wounds. Moroven's is angry and had time to fester.

Peace and quiet doesn't last forever unless you are truly dead. One of them will have to be in the end.