Morrigan bit her knuckle delicately as her husband attended to affairs of state. Demitri had vowed to conquer Makai as a love gift to her and made good on his promise. Little did Morrigan suspect that once he had conquered Makai, Demitri would actually want to *rule* it. Was it not enough that they had the adulteration of their subjects? Why did Demitri waste his time listening to the entreaties of his subjects when he could heed them not at all?

He had left her alone in her castle, narily a living entity in its own right. Morrigan missed her sisters and was lonely in this, the very seat of her power. Her servants milled about her, catering to her every whim; the fulfilment of many a child's dream but they were beneath her notice. They lived to serve her and Morrigan was more than happy to be served, their pact was simple unlike the vows which bound her to her spouse.

Reaching for some magazines she had acquired on Ningenkai, Morrigan absently flipped through their pages before inspiration struck her. Spreading her wings, she flew to Maximoff Castle where Demitri was holding court. Mayhaps there was some merit to the customs of mortals after all...........

Demitri dismissed the last citizen seeking audience with their dread lord. Like previous generations of Maximoffs, Demitri took time to hear the words of his subjects. Unlike other Maximoffs however, Demitri also allowed the commoners into his court, not only the nobles. A beggar's rags was no bar to entry so long as Demitri sat on the throne. Spying his queen awaiting him in the shadows, Demitri adjourned his court for the time being to make time for something more precious to him than life itself.

She slinked out of the shadows, every motion exuding a sensual grace to make a man want her. Demitri's throat went dry as she draped herself over him and nibbled on his ear. "Hello dearest," she whispered in his ear, each syllable full of husky promise. "Might you know of the quaint mortal custom known as the honeymoon?"

Demitri blinked once and started haltingly, "I believe that it is tradition in Mesopotamia for the bride's father to bestow upon the groom enough mead to last for a lunar cycle. The mortals refer to this as a 'honey month' (mead is fermented honey)."

Morrigan blinked in astonishment. Okay score one for her husband's knowledge of obscure mortal customs. "No love, that was over five thousand years ago as mortals reckon time. I was referring to a more recent tradition where the happily married couple travel to a distant locale to celebrate their union. A holiday as it were."

"A holy day? What has a feast of the Light have to do with us?" Demitri asked truly puzzled.

Morrigan just sighed as she tried to explain the truly alien concept of abandoning his duties for a period of rest and relaxation to her admittedly hidebound husband.

Las Vegas is a city that never sleeps. In its glittering neon-lit nights, people gamble the night away and entertainment never stops. A cloud of heady enjoyment mingled with the greed and desperation of those losing fortunes in the casinos cover the city. Naturally it was the first place Morrigan thought of as a holiday spot.

The Velvet Void is a night-club famous for its debauchery, a place for the seemingly normal citizen to act out their perverted fantasies in secret. Rooms could be rented for a fee and configured for any sort of taste. The attractive but jaded staff of the establishment were renowned not only for being talented in all respects but very accommodating to the clientele. It would take a lot to halt the revelry of the disillusioned youth that made up its patronage.

And yet, a veil of utter silence descended upon the Velvet Void when the door opened to admit a man. He was built like a modern day Adonis with powerful musculature set off perfectly by the pseudo-Romanian garments he wore. The suit looked like one a nobleman of the Dark ages might wear, complete with resplendent cape but it seemed to fit the newcomer like a glove. Every motion seemed to radiate a restrained power and an animal magnetism that made so many of the women in the night-club swoon with desire.

As he held the door open for his companion however, it was the men's turn to experience lust. The woman who walked in after him was a creature of purest temptation. Dressed only in a tight tank-top and mini-skirt, stockings covered her mile-long legs from ankle up. Her movements were sensual, almost hypnotic. Her proportions were those usually seen only in comic books or the works of libidinous artists and her features would have put Helen of Troy to shame. Her lime-green hair added a touch of the exotic to her even as she took her companion's arm and headed for the bar.

As the couple moved through the crowd, they instinctively parted in awe of the perfect creatures that had seen fit to grace the night with their presence. Utter silence fell in their wake even as they stepped into a private chamber of their own. In murmurs and whispers, conversations started anew. Jealousy and envy reared their ugly head in the crowd. Lovers once entranced by each other saw their counterparts in a different light. After all, how bright can a candle flame seem after one has stared into the sun? The aftermath of Demitri's and Morrigan's arrival sowed the seeds of faded love and insecurity in their passing. Whether it was their intent or not.

That night, Morrigan ruled the dance floor. Her natural grace, splendid style and inhuman agility allowed her to perform nigh impossible feats to the beat of the pounding music. Too bad her husband danced like a three-legged bear.

As a being acutely conscious of his dignity, Demitri found it hard to just abandon propriety and succumb to the throbbing music. The wild, frenzied dance music was as alien to him as fire to a snowman. He was pleased though that Morrigan found it so suited to her so her tried to accompany her but he might just as well try to recite Holy Verse. He was a being of deep, dark passions. Slow, stately dances and the powerful music of men such as Wagner spoke to him. This clashing, disconcordant collection of harsh musical notes however, frankly just gave him a headache. He bore the discomfort stoically however since Morrigan took her sport from places such as these.

Exasperated, Morrigan dragged Demitri off the dance floor. Making their way to the bar, she ordered a shot of vodka for both of them and tossed hers down in a single swallow. As a succubus, Morrigan could not *really* get drunk on the alcohol although it did her a pleasant buzz. Demitri's vampiric metabolism however, ignored the alcohol altogether. To him, the liquor was just a sharp, sour drink.

Morrigan sighed and tried to think of something fun she could share with her spouse. He could not dance, shrugged off alcoholic drinks and was unlikely to enjoy even more *exotic* entertainments. There had to be something they could share that would be pleasing for both of them. It was either that or he would drag her off to some musical or another. If she had to listen to "Ride of the Valkaryies" one more time, Morrigan was going to scream.

It was a satisfied Demitri that entered their hotel room come daybreak. He found the singing of that mortal, Frank Sinatra to be quite pleasant, although he could have sworn that Morrigan looked like a cornered animal for parts of the performance.

Morrigan opened the fridge in their hotel room and downed a bottle of expensive whisky in a few gulps. She needed it to restore her equilibrium. Songs of heartbreak made her paranoid over her marriage and the songs of love eternal were even worse. It was in her nature to be subtle, to see layers beneath the professed truth for the real intent. She knew her husband as one of the most straightforward person in Makai but old habits died hard. It felt like one giant veiled message to her. It was as if he were hinting to her that she would know the sorrow of a scorned lover soon if she did not keep faithful to him as her "one and only". Morrigan was certain that she would go stark, raving mad if she had to restrict herself to only one sexual partner.

Stretching luxuriantly, still flushed from their lovemaking, Morrigan belted a thin robe of silk and opened the window to watch the setting sun. She chided herself for ever doubting her lover. She had never felt so safe, so secure as when she was in Demitri's arms. Vampires were creatures of strong, eternal passions. It was foolish to ascribe the changing whims of the Succubi to them. Her people *never* formed lasting relationships between themselves and another. The very nature of the succubus precluded a permanent emotional attachment to another creature.

Looking into herself, Morrigan found that she was not so much afraid that one day Demitri would cease to love her. She was truly terrified that one morning she would wake up and find that she no longer loved Demitri and the feelings that she experienced ever since his return would be lost to her forever. Morrigan hugged herself as she realised that the latter scenario was a distinct if distant possibility.

Demitri watched with a slight smile as the sunlight silhouetted Morrigan's lush form. Ever since their first meeting, her fire, her beauty and her strength captivated him. It was more than a matter of pure lust. As Lord of Sithicus, there were no few vampire maidens of surpassing beauty who would kill to have a chance to share his bed. There was something about her that made him feel complete, as if they were to halves to the same whole.

Demitri regretted that she might never know what he had sacrificed for her. He had spit upon the traditions of Sithicus by their marriage, traditions that formed the cornerstone of Vampire society. More than that however, he had defied his entire court. They were adamant that marrying Morrigan was a mistake. A tryst or a dalliance they could understand but a permanent bond that linked their kingdoms as one was another thing entirely. They knew well Morrigan's seductive influence. "Would there come a day when you would slay us to please her," they had asked. Sengir, Ishan, Veldrane, Nordriel, Irini and even Baldric were sceptical that the marriage would work. They feared not just for their own lives but the life of their lord. What better way to conquer Sithicus than through the bedchamber? They were loyal to him and it was their loyalty that had caused them to oppose his marriage. And in spite of this, he had married Morrigan anyway; disregarding the advice of those who had been faithful to him unto death and beyond for the love of a fickle woman.

In her mind's eye, Morrigan could see a wrathful Demitri. Betrayed, angry and hurt, he would seek her life in redress when she ultimately left him. The image caused Morrigan to shiver uncontrollably. Better she left him now when her heart still beat with love for him than to grow uncaring and fall under his talons when her capricious nature finally betrayed her.

Just then, she felt his strong arms envelop her and Morrigan turned to weep his embrace, seeking the only sanctuary she had in a world of darkness.

In days of yore, the Sidhe danced in groves unseen by Man. The embodiment of nature, the Sidhe might be described as nature spirits that dwelt in their unchanging home of Avalon. There, they danced and revelled in veneration of the eternal cycles of nature. Once in a very long time, a mortal would wander into their glades or groves where the veil between Avalon and Terra were thin and glimpse the merry marvels of the Land of Life.

Their eternal queen, Titania, ruled the Sidhe since time immemorial. As immortal spirits of the seasons and the seas, the Sidhe heeded their queen only on matters of import, preferring their own ways in their daily endeavours. Thus it was to their queen they fled when the unthinkable happened. An intruder had breached the Veil and walked upon the sacred soil of Avalon itself.

It began innocently enough. The Sidhe Nobles charged with guarding the gates of Thoroughfare that lead to Avalon bespied a cloaked and hooded figure approaching their charge. They thought that it was simply another bored Noble trying a new disguise with his powers of illusion. The face of the traveller was unique enough. Delicate and elfin, he was handsome in a manner not unlike the Sidhe. The only difference was that his hair were locks of purest white and that his flesh seemed carved of pure ebony.

When he stood before the gates, the guards knew that they faced not a kin but one of *them*; the very antithesis of the Sidhe, the dwellers-in-the-dark. They tried to bar his passage but he swept them aside like tenpins, felling more than two score of the Sidhe's finest guardians before the few remaining defenders fled to warn their people of the approaching danger.

The entire Sidhe nation cowered as the traveller approached. Fey and fair, few of them had learnt the arts of war. Those few disposed towards battle guarded the gates and were already decimated single-handedly by the intruder. The very elements and the land itself lashed out against the dweller-of-the-dark but he brushed them off with little effort.

Before long, the proudest nobles of the Sidhe Houses gathered at the gates of the palace, willing to sell their lives in defense of their queen. Attired in armor forged of sunlight and armed with blades of moonbeams, they should have overmatched any dweller-in-the-dark.

Or so they thought.

He swept them aside without breaking stride, sundering the magics that barred the entrance to the palace with a single gesture. The Sidhe nation, fearful and hesistant before, surged forward to sell themselves dearly for queen and country but to little avail, he ignored the swarming Sidhe and instead strode proudly into the throne room to confront their monarch. And there, before the ruler of the Sidhe realm he knelt on bended knee to the astonishment of the collective Sidhe.

"You have returned, my Summer King," noted Titania in a voice tinged with ancient sadness. "And you have done so on the blood of my subjects."

"Be well, my Autumn Queen," said the intruder. "For I have left most of them alive to learn from their folly."

"You always were arrogant Ozum," replied Titania. "Was it not enough to take advantage of my youthful naiveté that you would come to mock me here in my own kingdom?"

"Titania, I........know how you feel and I would not have disturbed your peace if not for vital news," Ozum spoke with slow tones. It was clear that the queen's words had hurt him sorely. "Our children are dead."

"Nay, no child of my blood, the seven, but a fruit of their father's loins," said Titania coldly.

Whispers circulated amongst the gather Sidhe, those old enough to remember the tale retold it for the benefit of their youths.

It was said that in the times of legend, their queen, still young and naïve, had travelled far and wide. She had learned all there was to learn about the natural world but that was not enough. To defend her people, she needed to learn things her people had no inkling of.

Thus it was that she journeyed alone to the Dark, to meet the denizens of the Demon World. There she petitioned their roguish prince for his wisdom.

"Show me Darkness, show me Death," asked the young queen, "show me what lies Beyond for nature is beyond them."

"All things for a price, my beauty," replied the dark prince. "Stay with me."

"But I do not love you," protested the young queen, drawing away from the dark prince, aghast at spending an eternity in the Dark.

"Then I must touch you," said the dark prince, "all things for a price."

So the dark prince showed her darkness, he showed her death. He showed her decay, despair and destruction. He showed her what it meant to know the love of a demon prince.

Many years later, the young queen returned to her people, aged by sorrow and burdened by wisdom. She was also heavy with child. The children of that infernal mating proved to be a danger to her subjects, children of spite, malice and hatred. Thus it was with a heavy heart that the queen banished her own offspring to the Dark to live with their father and forbade mention of his name in Avalon henceforth.

"Titania," the Demon Emperor spoke tenderly, "I need an heir."

Titania's face froze into a mask of horror and shock. "No, not again, never again. What of your consort?"

"Though I loved Tanit in my own way, I never laid with her the way I laid with you," said Ozum in a quiet voice. "I felt that I was..........betraying you in some way if I were to make love to another woman."

"Well then," continued the Sidhe queen in tones of ice, "it would seem that ironically you are the more faithful of us two. I've had dozens of lovers down the eons."

Ozum said nothing but his eyes spoke of his anguish.

"Don't you understand?" screamed the queen. "I made myself a *whore* because of you! But no matter how many I bedded or how talented they were, your touch stayed with me! All I could think about was the dark ecstasy that could be found in your arms. No, Ozum, I could not live this another time."

"All these millennia, I've never stop loving you Titania," whispered Ozum, barely perceptible in the complete silence of the Sidhe court.

"But *I* wish to stop loving you Ozum. You seduced me when I was but a babe and stole my innocence from me. You want an heir? Fine, all things for a price my dark prince," Titania was trembling from the force of her emotions. "Make me forget you."

Ozum rose from the boudoir as Titania slept from their exertions. From her womb, he drew the dark seedling that would one day grow into a Demon Prince. He placed a single, gentle kiss on her forehead and erased her memories of him. Cradling the uncrowned prince in his arms, Ozum walked steadily for Makai, all the years of his existence crushing him with their weight now that his only light in the darkness was extinguished.