Spoilers: Queen of the Damned

Disclaimers: I don't own these vampires, Anne Rice does. I make no money off of this.

Other info: This is in response to the picture challenge, the Rose Spectacle, and the spectacle is described here as a photographic tableau.

Armand stood away from the throng of people in the center of the room, safely hidden behind his mask. All of the other dancers spun and twisted in each other's arms, resplendent in their period costumes. The room had been remodeled to look like a classical ballroom, with a crystal chandelier in the center of a gilded ceiling that reflected beautifully in the mirrored walls. He sighed and leaned against the wall. The men were all handsome in their distinguished coats and tails, their breeches and buckled shoes. The ladies were elegant in their bustles and fans, their corsets and their lacy gowns. The masks only gave them air of mystery, adding anonymity to their dance. Here they could be someone else for a spell.

Armand was also dressed in a disguise, wearing one of many masks he had worn in his time. This one was just more concrete than the others. It was an exquisite piece of craftsmanship, white porcelain with red roses painted onto the surface. More roses had been attached to the sides, red and white together, tied together with red ribbons while white ribbons streamed down along his face. He'd been asked to dance several times, but each time he had waved them off. The one he wanted to dance with was not here.

He sighed and drifted through the French doors, out onto the balcony. The full moon caught his attention, and he absent-mindedly set his hand on the railing, the iron trellis shaped like small flowers. It would have been nice if...no, it had been wishful thinking. His fledgling was simply not one for formal dances. Hell, Daniel hadn't spoken to him for months, why did he expect him to reply to a petty invitation? Armand put his back to the marble column next to him and sighed. He'd had the perfect mask made up for his fledgling, too. White with violet flowers painted on, purple roses on the sides to match and two magnificent white roses with them for contrast. Wasted.

The orchestra was performing a waltz, but the music was a cacophony to his ears. What good is a dance when there is no one to share it with? With one hand he took his mask off and stared at it. Such fine craftsmanship. Without a second though he plucked off the white rose in the corner, the one with the long stem and the ribbons braided around it. Stripping the ribbons away, he let the mask fall over the side, not listening for the crash below. He held up his rose, wishing he had a violet rose to match with it, but...that blossom had long since faded. He didn't know he was crying until one of his tears fell on the white petals. Furious at himself for betraying his emotions so openly, he viciously wiped them away, leaving only a single droplet on his cheek. Armand sighed, then glanced down at the walkway below him. He froze, creating a photographic tableau.

At the main gate, leaning against the lock, was a figure dressed in violet. The costume was nearly identical to his own, only it was longer to suit its wearer, and the buckled shoes had been exchanged for matching boots. But the mask, the lavender mask with the roses and ribbons...that was the same, held tightly in place around the blonde hair. The figure held up the white mask, then beckoned for Armand to come down to him.

Not caring if anyone saw him, Armand put his hands on the railing and vaulted over, falling nearly twenty feet and landing like a cat, rising up as if he had jumped from only a few inches. Daniel held still, but when Armand came close, he held up his hand. Armand halted in his tracks, not knowing what his fledgling intended.

Daniel gently reached forward and took the rose from Armand's hand, then turned all of his attention to repairing his maker's mask, carefully weaving the rose back into place in the ribbons. Once he was finished he looked back at Armand, and smiled, the violet eyes half-closed in drowsy comfort. He leaned down and softly kissed away the last tear remaining on his cheek. Then he slipped the mask over Armand's face and tied it behind his auburn hair.

Armand expected Daniel to escort him back to the dance, but instead his fledgling veered to the right and started down the sidewalk. Just before the smaller vampire was about to call out, to try and stop him despite the hurt it would mean to his stoic dignity, Daniel looked back, and made a small movement, indicating he should follow. Wordlessly, Armand obeyed.

They walked for several minutes, Danny leading his lover far away from the music and lights, farther and farther into the dark streets where no one else dared to venture. They were entirely alone. After awhile, Armand could see their destination. Daniel was taking him to the graveyard.

The gate to the cemetery was locked, but Daniel merely leaped over the rusted iron bars, landing gracefully on the other side. Armand followed, and as they walked toward the center, he could begin to hear faint music coming from behind the tombstones and gnarled, dead trees. He recognized the music, it was an old classical piece, but he couldn't remember the name to it. It was loud enough to be heard, but not loud enough to be intrusive. A light fog was settling in, covering the muddy ground as they came to the center.

Daniel turned suddenly, one arm catching Armand around his waist, the other grabbing his maker's hand and holding it up. "I didn't want to dance with you near other people," he whispered. "I didn't want to profane it."

Armand didn't answer. He only lay his head against Daniel's chest, allowing him to lead. It would be difficult if he tried, he was physically too small for it. They swayed and turned slowly to the music, never tripping even though they couldn't see the ground. A cool breeze played over their bodies, making Armand edge closer to Daniel until the music finally ended.

"Will you take off your mask for me?"

Armand looked up in confusion. Danny pulled his mask off, setting it down on a broken tombstone, and he ran his fingers through his hair, loosening it up. He stared at his lover expectantly. Without questioning why, Armand placed his mask next to his fledgling's.

Daniel shook his head with a sad smile. "Not that mask. The one you're wearing right now."

Armand's composure flinched a moment. "I...I...can't..."

Daniel's smile fell in utter disappointment, and he turned to the side, intending to leave. "If you can't, then I can't stay."

Armand panicked at the thought of losing him again and seized his arm, holding him back. "No, Danny, please!"

Daniel's eyes opened wide in surprise. Armand had actually displayed...emotion. "But Armand, I have to know, you have to show me..."

Armand shook his head. "No, I can't...I want to, I do, I really do, but...I can't." His face never changed, his eyes remained dry and dispassionate. Only when he was alone could he let himself relax, and even that was rare.

Daniel was torn between fighting to help his lover or just walking away, giving up hope. He wrapped Armand up in his arms, hugging him tight. That Armand was allowing him to do this, to stroke his hair and shelter him, was unusual in itself.

"I don't want to continue this dance," Daniel murmured. "I want a new dance..."

"You want a miracle," Armand whispered angrily, but he didn't pull back. He hadn't let anyone hold him like this literally in centuries, since Marius had taken care of him. And Daniel had always seemed too childish, too immature to trust completely...

"Do I have to wait four hundred years for my miracle?"

Armand didn't reply.

"Can you promise me a miracle?" Daniel continued, every word driving cold needles into Armand's heart. "Even if I have to wait four hundred years, will I see my miracle? Because I have to know."

"And if you don't?" Armand challenged, growing sullen with his fear.

"Then I will be very lonely, because I couldn't be near you, and I couldn't love anyone else. I would be completely alone...for four hundred years, maybe. Maybe I'll learn to fight it, like my maker does."

"No..." Armand moaned in a tiny voice. "You...you're not blank...you're not a white rose, devoid of color...you're not empty...I don't want to see you become a white rose..."

"Like you?"

Armand nodded silently. Tears were welling up in his eyes against his will.

"But do you know what I see, when I look at you?" Daniel asked, putting his fingers under Armand's chin and tilting his face upward. "I don't see colorless flowers...I see red roses."

Now the tears spilled out, staining his cheeks. Armand wanted to pull away, to run far from these familiar feelings long buried, long thought dead. His legs would not obey him. He was drawn to the emotions he feared so much. Daniel cupped his other hand by Armand's face, dipping his fingertip into one of the tears, then bringing it to his lips for a taste.

"I see red petals, beautiful and fragile, but they're closed up tight, afraid of being ripped from the blossom again." More tears were falling, but Armand made no move to escape, so Daniel leaned down and kissed them away. His left arm went around Armand's waist and curled around his side, while his other arm came up his lover's back, cradling his head in his hand.

"And every time I see those petals..."

Armand shook his head, unwilling to listen, these were all lies...

"...every time I look into your eyes..."

Armand put his hands against Daniel's chest, trying to push away, but his arms were too weak. His crying made it impossible to get out of this.

"..I see so much pain and misery there, I want to protect them..."

"No," the smaller vampire hissed, shutting his eyes.

"...I tell them I love them, hoping they might open. And even if it takes four hundred years, I'll keep waiting. But if there's no hope...if you could never let me near you...in that way...then I couldn't stay sane near you physically...and I can't stay sane without you...and I'll be miserable...just like my maker...no matter how I try..."

"Lies..." Armand snarled, managing to break out of Daniel's grip. He took a step back, nearly tripping on a hidden rock. He wavered uncertainly, afraid to go one way or another. "Not true...you don't love me, no one does...you're lying..."

"You're wrong," Daniel said firmly.

Armand was close to hysterics, tears raining down his face. His fledgling had never gone half this far trying to prove anything. Please, let it be true...no, it wasn't true. "You don't love me, you always leave..."

"You push me away..." Daniel shook his head. "Every time I get close, you push me away...I always come back."

"No...I don't..."

"You're doing it now."

"No! No...no...you don't love me...you're lying..."

"Why would I lie?"

Armand turned his back on Daniel, hugging his arms around himself. It was terribly cold, even though there was no wind, cruelly cold...the weather was always cruel, always vicious, everything in the world was vicious...even his fledgling...no...no...but why was his lying...was he lying...yes...no...losing so much blood through his eyes...so weak...Daniel?...love Daniel...yes...but...Daniel...no...

"Take off the mask, Armand."

"I can't..."

"It's too much for you now. Take it off."

"I can't."

Daniel came closer, stepping right behind him. He didn't try to touch him, not yet. "But it's so heavy...you want to take it off so much..."

"I can't..."

Daniel narrowed his eyes. Can't, not won't. "Would you, if you could?"

"Y-ye--if...if only...too pain...too painful..."

"Can I help you take it off?" He lay his hands on Armand's shoulders. "Can we begin a new dance? Can I take your mask off?"

"Yes..." the answer sounded more like a request, and it died away on Armand's lips as his emotions rose to the surface, bringing with them centuries of past feelings. With a shattered sob he fainted. His legs crumpled beneath him, and Daniel grasped at him before he completely fell to the ground. The fledgling brought his maker into his arms, cradling him like a defenseless child, and carried him back through the fog and the darkness and the shattered tombstones of a forgotten graveyard, the music still playing to the masks left together on one stone, the ribbons tangling together, one rose violet, the other white, with a red streak of color.