OKAAAYY FAM! Who's ready for round 4 because I have no self-control? Welcome to Bloodline! This chapter... it's fucking angsty as shit, guys. It's Sad Boy Hours in Vampire Mountain. This is an Endgame spoiler but if you haven't read that you shouldn't be here. Anyway... SOME OF Y'ALL REALLY THOUGHT I WAS GONNA KILL KURDA? COME ONNNN.

Before we get started I am doing a TW for the following content: alcohol abuse, mentions of PAST self-harm + substance abuse, one brief mention of suicide, and a present-day situation that isn't intentional self-harm but close enough. Idk how to explain it but I'm being cautious.

Some of this story will follow canon, but like Endgame it'll reach a point where I go off-script and do my own thing.

Also the flashback is from like... chapter 11 or 12 (?) of Call It What You Want. I was re-reading it the other day and it reads like a high school romcom now that I've written Endgame smh. Their lives were so simple back then.

Alright folks, I really mean it this time - so begins the Last First Chapter.

Chapter 1: The Dark Don't Even Know You

Song: The Corner by Dermot Kennedy


This should have never been your road
We should have stayed there on the corner
You know I'm always at your shoulder
Take your hand out of your holster

Mika remained in the Hall of Princes alone during the funerals. Someone had to stay behind and he figured it might as well be him. After watching Kurda turn his back on everything, both figuratively and literally, he was in no mood to witness the final sendoff of all those vampires.

He was grateful for some peace and quiet. But he wished he could've been there for Arra's, regardless of the pain it would've caused him. Arrow gave him a gentle nudge through their mental link when it was her turn so Mika knew when to bow his head and whisper to himself,

"Even in may you be triumphant...I'm going to miss you so much. I'm sorry, Arra."

Eventually, Paris and Arrow returned and Mika was able to leave the hall. He told them he was going to get some food, but truthfully he had no intention of eating. He should have; but it was the furthest thing from his mind. He just needed to walk.

But he didn't get very far. The second he stepped outside the Hall of Princes, someone's fist made full contact with his jaw and he went flying backwards in shock. Almost three centuries of combat training had honed his reflexes to perfection, and Mika delivered a swift counterstrike before his mind even registered who his assailant was. Mika's punch sent the other man reeling and he watched in bewilderment as the guards converged on a defiant, screaming, red-faced Larten Crepsley.

"HOW COULD YOU JUST LET HIM GO?" Larten bellowed, tears streaming down his face. "ARRA IS GONE! GAVNER IS GONE! ALL BECAUSE OF HIM! AND YOU LET THE TRAITOR WALK OUT OF HERE A FREE MAN!"

"Shut your mouth!" A guard barked at him. "You'll be executed for attacking a Prince!"

"We are so sorry, Sire! He slipped past us before we could stop him!" Gasped another.

"Are you hurt? What would you have us do with him?" Asked another guard, hurrying over to Mika.

"I'm fine, thank you." Said Mika slowly, still processing.

It was a good, clean punch and Mika could taste blood and feel a bit trickling from his lip. He wiped his face slowly then looked down at the red stain on the back of his hand for a moment. Then back to Larten who was still struggling viciously, panting and swearing.

"Let him go." Mika added decisively. "No one else is dying here."

"But Sire-"

"Did I fucking stutter? Larten Crepsley has been an asset to this clan longer than you've walked this earth, Patrick. Take your hands off him."

The guards exchanged an uncomfortable look but relinquished their grasp on Larten. However, he didn't look exactly grateful for Mika's lenience.

"You had a job to do, Mika! Just one job!" Larten sobbed, advancing again. His voice was broken and shaking but his body was anything but. He was on a mission. "She died fighting for us, and Gavner was murdered in cold blood! All you had to do was make sure there was justice served! And you failed them! How can you live with yourself knowing the traitor still breathes while they are dead?"

Seba came flying around the corner. His eyes went wide as he realized what was happening. Evidently he'd tried to keep Larten in check but had been evaded. Mika didn't know where Darren was but he was glad he wasn't here to witness his mentor's meltdown, because it was ugly.

"Sire!" Seba gasped in horror, seeing the erratic Larten, the blood on Mika's face, and the agitated guards still ready to intervene. "I am sorry! He is mad with grief, he does not know what he is doing!"

Mika deftly raised his hand and Seba fell silent. Then dead-eyed Larten and took a step towards him.

"Larten..." Mika growled. "You know damn well it's not that simple. You're hurting. Believe me, I fucking get it. Walk away from me right now and I'll pretend this never happened."

"She deserved more!" Larten howled, seemingly deaf to Mika's dismissal. "She considered you family! Any other vampire would have tasted the stakes for doing half of what Kurda did... he betrayed you too! And you call yourself a Prince? You are the traitor, Mika Ver Leth! You failed us!"

So much for letting Larten off with a slap on the wrist. Mika felt his temper rise and his blood boiled. Without realizing he was doing it, he began rolling up his sleeves getting ready to finish what Larten started.

Alright, Quicksilver... he thought to himself. Today is not the day, and I am not the one.

"I seem to recall it was Glalda that struck Arra down. And from where I was standing, your underage apprentice was the one who took him out of before either of us had a chance to intervene. And you know damn well I wouldn't have given Glalda nearly as quick a death as Darren did if I'd gotten there first." Mika told him icily.

"And Gavner?" Larten sobbed. "Even you cannot justify murder!"

Mika felt his brain short-circuit for a moment as he remembered the night he found Kurda alone in a deserted hallway having a debilitating panic attack on the floor. Now he knew he'd just come back from killing Gavner Purl. And Mika had dropped every single thing on his massive to-do list that night to comfort him. The thought made him feel nauseous.

"I'M NOT JUSTIFYING ANYTHING!" Mika snarled viciously, taking another step towards him. "You have no fucking idea what this looks like from my end! You had your chance to be a Prince and you threw it away, so don't pull that righteous shit on me! You have NO idea!"

Larten paused and stared back at Mika, still panting and seething. Seba was begging him to calm down but the old man's pleas went ignored.

"If you're here to fight, let's go!" Mika continued, voice rising with every word until he was bellowing as loudly as Larten had been. He quickly closed the distance between himself and the orange-haired man. "Wouldn't be the first time you tried to fight me for her. But this time I won't take the high road! Come on Quicksilver, let's see if you've still got it! What are you waiting for? Fucking hit me!"

Larten let out an unintelligible scream of rage and swung his fist again. But Mika was ready and it only clipped his jaw. He retaliated with a sharp punch at Larten's head but he too was as fast as he'd ever been. The fight was swift and vicious. A crowd started to form within seconds. Mika and Larten were both in their prime, and very evenly matched. Larten was out of practice but it didn't seem to slow him down; he was dead even with Mika every step of the way. They didn't land many blows on each other, but the ones that connected were brutal. It would've carried on much longer than it did but then the doors to the Hall of Princes swooshed open and Paris and Arrow appeared to see what the hell was going on.

"MIKA!" Paris roared, his voice splitting the air like the crack of a whip. Sharp enough to halt Mika in his tracks. Larten tried to take advantage of his distraction but suddenly Seba was upon him, tackling him and holding his arms behind his back so he couldn't continue his assault on Mika. Mika wasn't ready to give up the fight either, but within seconds Paris stepped in and grabbed him in the same manner with which Seba was restraining Larten. The four of them sunk to the floor in a tangled mess of thrashing bodies and breathless cussing until the only sound in the vast cavern was the sound of Larten's anguished sobbing as he lay curled up in Seba's arms.

"I'm sorry, okay?!" Mika yelled bitterly as he struggled against Paris's unyielding grip. Even at 800 years old, the man was as strong as Mika had ever been. "I'm sorry, Larten! I'm so fucking sorry."

Seba's face looked stunned and dazed, he was looking past Mika and slightly upwards, at Paris. Mika felt another stab of guilt for losing his temper and goading Larten when he was so vulnerable. But it wasn't fair. Why did Larten get to have a screaming tantrum on the floor while Mika was expected to take the high road? Well, that was rhetorical. Mika knew why. It's not that Princes can't have feelings, but it's better for everyone if they feel them behind closed doors. Which was unfortunate because Mika could've really gone for a full-frontal public meltdown of his own.

"Are you quite finished embarrassing yourself?" Paris hissed irritably into his ear.

"For now." Mika sighed defeatedly. Paris released him and they both slowly got to their feet and dusted themselves off. Arrow was standing a few feet away with his arms crossed. He rolled his eyes as Mika glanced at him.

"Really?" Said Arrow reproachfully.

"I don't know if you've noticed, but I'm having a bad day." Mika replied dully as they headed back to the Hall of Princes.

"You know he's essentially our step-brother, right?" Arrow pointed out, gesturing at Larten who was still on the floor. Seba and Paris were both kneeling around the red-cloaked man's crumpled form exchanging worried looks with each other.

"It's crossed my mind." Mika sighed.

"Come on." Said Arrow, putting his hand on Mika's shoulder and steering him away. "You can't un-punch Crepsley but you can help me come up with a solution so we don't have to drop his kid on a stake."

"He punched me first." Mika grunted dispassionately, but he followed Arrow back to the thrones.

The debate on Darren Shan's fate took hours. But the look on Arrow's face when he suddenly got up out of his throne, spread his arms triumphantly and bellowed, "I'VE GOT IT!" was a breath of fresh air after the horror of the past few days.

Admittedly Mika had very few fucks left to give about anything at that point, but he found himself smiling as Arrow laid the plan out. Arrow looked so proud of himself and both Seba and Paris looked ready to cry in relief.

"Good work, A. Nailed it." Mika sighed, patting his friend on the arm as they waited for Larten and Darren to present themselves.

"I know you're usually the one with the ideas." Said Arrow with a grin. "But I thought I'd try my hand at being the smart one."

"Well, keep it up. I plan on turning my brain off for a few years once this is all over so it's your time to shine." Mika remarked wryly. Arrow chuckled and rolled his eyes.

Finally, it was over and Darren Shan had been abruptly initiated into a rank that many covet and few earn. Not only did they spare his life, the kid quite literally got the entire royal treatment. But Mika figured he deserved it. It was a good solution. Arrow was positively glowing after they'd finished exchanging blood with the boy; it was his idea to raise Darren up onto their shoulders when the kid looked on the verge of fainting.

Mika couldn't resist shooting a pointed smile at Larten as he and Arrow paraded around the Hall of Princes with Darren sitting on their shoulders waving at the crowd in a daze. Larten still looked like a hollow shell of his normal self but he manage to return Mika's look with a weary smile of his own.

Shortly after that, Mika made his way over to the pew Larten was sitting on, while the newly invested Darren was preoccupied chatting with Paris and Arrow.

"Thank you for this. I deeply regret my earlier behaviour. You did not deserve that." Said Larten stiffly as Mika sat down beside him.

"I'm over it. Just glad I'm not executing your kid." Mika replied conversationally, but not without a shrewd glance across at Larten. Larten grimaced.

"I too am glad you are not executing my kid."

"We didn't deserve for him to come back for us." Mika added. "Honourable or not, he owed us nothing. You raised a good one."

"Yes. I did that much right." Said Larten softly, watching Darren laugh happily at something Arrow and Vanez were saying. It was astonishing he could still smile after everything he'd been through. Mika and Larten sat and watched for a moment.

"I truly am sorry for the words I chose earlier. You are not a traitor, nor would you ever be. You were doing your best in an impossible situation." Larten spoke up after a minute. "My outburst was unacceptable and it will not happen again."

"No offence Quicksilver, but that doesn't even crack the top ten worst things that've happened to me lately. You'll have to do better than that if you want to phase me." Mika replied seriously. "But just for the record, I absolutely guarantee you I'll be losing more than a few hours of sleep over Gavner and Arra in the nights to come. They should be here... and they're not."

"Darren has no idea what Gavner was to me." Larten croaked. "He has no idea he practically had a brother - I asked Gavner not to mention it. I was going to tell Darren one of these nights... that he has more family than he realizes."

"I don't know your full history with Gavner, but I know enough." Said Mika quietly. "I'm so sorry. For all of this."

"How are you holding up?" Larten inquired with a wayward glance. And that was the moment knew this conversation was over.

"Thirsty." Said Mika bluntly, standing up. "Think I'm going to wander down to the kitchen and find something to drink."

Larten nodded, and remained seated. Mika paused before making his exit.

"And Larten, about taking your feelings out on people's faces..."

"I truly am so sorry."

"...I was going to say come at me any time you want. You know I'm good for it." Said Mika with a brittle smile. "Just give me a little warning, maybe? I've had enough surprises lately."

After the excitement died down and most of the audience had retreated to their cells to sleep, Paris insisted on having just a tiny celebration for their newest Prince. Nothing like a typical investiture feast, that would come later when things calmed down. But the old Prince felt the boy deserved something. A few hours of before they buckled down and faced their new reality.

What if he never had to go?
What if we never knew October?
Would you run into the open?
Would you take back all they told ya?

They remained in the Hall of Princes; that was the easiest way. Darren sat in Vancha's throne and was awestruck by how he could make the doors whoosh open and shut just by pressing his hand against the panel on the arm rest. The other three Princes sat in their own thrones of course, and Larten, Seba, and Vanez sat casually on the stairs leading up to the platform. No one was without a beverage of some sort in their hand. It was very lax and informal but it was what everyone needed. Most had ale. Paris and Seba had wine. Mika had taken the whiskey route, which was standard for him. But he didn't normally sit slumped sideways in his throne with the entire (large) bottle in his hand. He was aware that Paris kept shooting him furtive looks of disapproval but he was well beyond caring.

They mostly made small talk, told stories and made very halfhearted jokes. It was really just an attempt to make Darren feel a little more comfortable in the role that had been thrust upon him, and to try to find some semblance of peace since no one really felt like going to bed. But the truth was, they were all broken in one way or another. About an hour in, Mika figured he should probably slow down, maybe switch to ale or at the very least take a drink of water or eat some actual food; he hadn't done either in about 36 hours. But the burning liquor was the final line of defence standing between him and the crushing weight of literally everything so he sat with the group and just existed as best he could, until he could no longer do even that.

Kurda is in dishonourable exile. Might as well be dead.

Arra is dead. Killed by the vampaneze who plotted with Kurda for years.

Kurda murdered Gavner.

Kurda was going to murder Paris, Arrow, and me and I'm only alive because of the child I was about to execute.

I spared a traitor who would've burned us to the ground if he had to.

Something something doomsday prophecy.

He planned all this right in front of me and I had no idea.

We're going to war.

And the most devastating blow of all...

I have to find a way to tell Gracie all of that.

When the room started to spin off its axis. Mika knew he was too far gone. Knew he had no business being around people right now. He was trying so hard but his head was throbbing and his body felt numb and he was rapidly losing his grip on sanity. He could feel his heart and lungs starting to work harder by the second.

His mind stopped comprehending the chattering voices around him, they began to sound distorted and foreign.

The last of his adrenaline had finally burned off and his weary body was in no state to produce more. And eventually he reached a point where he was absolutely certain if he stayed in this room for one second longer he would die, so he lurched up and out of his throne abruptly and walked out of the hall without a word to anyone.

Mika always had a taste for the finer things in life. He was very fond of the matching furniture in cell: coffin, cabinet, dresser, desk, and mirror frame. All in the same luxurious dark mahogany. Now he was standing in his cell for the first time since prior to the almost-investiture. For the first time in days he was alone with his thoughts.

All he could hear was Kurda's voice, that laugh that sounded like a crystal-clear mountain spring, teasing him about what a snob he was. Saw him lying there in that coffin, on his back with his arms folded behind his head, grinning lazily up at him. Eyes bluer than the ocean, only slightly obscured by the white-gold hair that kept falling in front of them.

Fuck... Mika blinked fast and hard, trying to dispel the image. His mind felt more unhinged by the second, he knew he had to lay down before something bad happened. But first, water. If his cloudy memory served, there'd be some at his desk. He stumbled towards it but the torchlight flickering in the stand-up mirror caught his eye. He stopped and looked. But he didn't see his current swaying, dishevelled, exhausted self staring back. Suddenly it was five-ish years ago and he was two days away from marrying Arra Sails. Kurda had been playing the role of supportive-ex-friend-with-benefits and had asked Mika if he could borrow some formal robes for the occasion. Mika essentially said "sure man, hope you like black". Kurda didn't like black but he also didn't own any formal clothing at the time so his options were limited.

FIVE YEARS AGO:

"I look ridiculous." Kurda said flatly. "Thanks, Mika. But I can't wear this."

"I've never seen you in black. I think you look good." Said Mika softly.

"Too dark." Kurda muttered brusquely. "I look like I'm trying to be something I'm not."

"And what's that?" Mika inquired, tilting his head curiously.

"You." Kurda snorted. "I look like I'm trying to be you. Except instead of channeling your overall aesthetic, which is all moody and mysterious and 'fuck you I'm Mika Ver Leth'... I just look like a sad idiot going to the world's fanciest funeral."

Mika pressed his lips together firmly but Kurda could see the laughter in his eyes.

"Kurda... what does that even mean? Are you serious? Come on, it's not that deep."

"I can't wear your clothes to your wedding, Mika." Kurda sighed resignedly. "I'm sorry I asked."

"Have it your way, then." Said Mika unconcernedly, his eyes on Kurda who was still focusing determinedly on his own reflection in the mirror. "But just for the record, you couldn't be me if you tried."

Kurda couldn't resist. His head snapped to the right so he could raise his eyebrows at Mika.

"Is that so?"

Mika heaved a long sigh and leaned back in his chair, fixing Kurda with a steady, brooding gaze. There was a faint ghost of a smile playing on his lips.

"Not a chance. You're nothing like me. The way you float around this place like you're weightless. How smile through everything like you've never had a bad day in your life. How kindness is your default setting. That you're constantly such a fucking optimist, sometimes to the point where sometimes I want to throw you in the river but mostly because I just don't understand how you do it and I wish I could."

He was still gazing up at Kurda, but his smile had faded and now he just looked weary. Kurda held his gaze, eyes slightly narrowed, listening carefully.

"The way you make no apologies for being exactly who you are. You've taken all the shit this clan has thrown at you over the years and turned it into your own kind of strength. The kind that most of them don't have the mental capacity to understand."

Mika's voice had dropped in volume so much that Kurda could barely hear him.

"The way you're stronger than me, smarter than me, tougher than me. You're better than I could ever hope to be. So don't worry, Kurda. It doesn't matter that you wear. No one's going to think you're anything like me."

PRESENT DAY:

All he could see in that mirror was himself and Kurda on that day five years ago, standing shoulder to shoulder, glancing back and forth at each other with a handful of poorly concealed emotions. When Mika finally lost control and drove his fist through the glass, it wasn't Kurda's face he aimed for, but his own. The smooth glass exploded into a thousand razor sharp pieces that tore into his flesh like knives. A rush of pain shot through his body and for the first time in days he felt some semblance of release. At least his body could still perceive something besides grief.

Holding, waiting for something
That'll keep you from the cold
It feels like winter follows you around
Holding, waiting for something
That'll keep you from the cold

To Mika's credit, he hung on longer than Arrow expected. He definitely seemed more withdrawn than usual, but he was doing his best. He was visibly dazed but so was everyone else. Arrow was acutely aware they were all just running on fumes at that point, and when the adrenaline ran out it would be a hard crash for Mika.

Personally, Arrow thought Mika had been hitting the bottle of whiskey a little hard. And coming from Arrow, that was saying a lot. But... Mika had also just come through the literal worst days of his entire life, bar none. So Arrow kept his mouth shut. He kept a close eye on Mika though. He quietly observed his friend slowly disengage more and more over the course of several hours and he knew the exact moment Mika finally lost whatever internal battle was raging inside him, because he stood up and left the hall silently.

Paris discretely caught Arrow's eye.

"If he's not back in ten minutes... go." The old Prince murmured to his younger, tattooed colleague. Arrow nodded grimly. He knew Mika wasn't coming back, but he dutifully waited ten minutes and then he bid the group goodnight and excused himself.

One of the only things in life that Arrow knew for certain was that Mika Ver Leth was the only reason he was still walking this earth. The darkness that had followed Arrow since Sarah's death had all but buried him alive. Against all odds Mika had dragged him back from the edge of total self destruction. And ever since then, Arrow hoped and prayed every day of his life that he never had to return the favour.

But that day had arrived, and it was worse than he could have imagined. Arrow's pain had always been clear cut, black and white. He suffered a devastating loss, and then he grieved it. Not to minimize the scope of his trauma; he still woke up in a cold sweat all these decades later. It had been hell, but he knew what he was grieving. He knew who he was angry at. He had closure. But Mika's loss was an entirely different creature than Arrow's, and it lived in a universe where closure wasn't an option.

Arrow knocked once when he reached Mika's cell door, but didn't wait for a response. If he had, it would've been an awfully long wait.

"Oh gods, Mika..." Arrow murmured in dismay as he gingerly opened the doors. He knew immediately it had been a mistake to wait ten minutes before intervening.

Mika's treasured XL luxury coffin had been destroyed, torn apart entirely. The lid seemed to have been ripped from its hinges and reduced to splinters. Then there was the mirror, smashed to pieces. All that remained was the dark wooden frame with a few pieces of glass sticking out here and there. It didn't take long to find the rest of the glass, the shards were scattered all over the floor along with the countless cracked and broken pieces of wood from the coffin, even more razor-sharp fragments of glass that had clearly been the whiskey bottle. And of course pools of spilled liquor slowly spreading across the floor, intermingling with enough blood to be concerning... and in the centre of that wasteland was Mika. He was on his knees, holding his face in his hands, shaking and sobbing as though his heart was being carved slowly out of his chest with a blunt knife.

Arrow's blood ran cold as he took it all in, but he didn't skip a beat. He knelt beside Mika and held him, pulling him tightly against his chest. The blood seemed to be coming from his hands and arms which had been torn apart on the shards of mirror glass.

"I don't understand..." Mika sobbed, words muffled in Arrow's shoulder. "I missed so many signs... Why didn't he just tell me we were in trouble? What did I do wrong?"

...what did I do wrong?! That was a string of words Arrow had never, ever heard come out of Mika's mouth.

"I'm so sorry." Arrow whispered disconsolately, knowing it didn't help at all. "You didn't do anything wrong, Mika. Don't ever think that. You didn't deserve this."

"I could've stopped it... I would've helped him find a different way..."

"None of us could've predicted it, not even you. Don't you dare blame yourself. Now come on, you're not staying here." Arrow croaked, struggling to keep his own emotions in check. He pulled Mika to his feet; it was no small task as Mika was barely functional. Once he was standing it took all of Arrow's arm strength to keep him that way. He leaned heavily into Arrow's chest, wracked by grief and barely able to breathe, much less form any more coherent words. Arrow didn't know how it felt to be collateral damage of a foiled murder-suicide-treason-doomsday plot by the love of your life and be left with more questions than answers. But he did know what rock bottom felt like. Arrow didn't like to brag, but he practically had a Ph.D in grief.

Mika's cell would need to be cleared of all the shards of glass, splintered wood, blood, and alcohol before it could be inhabitable again, but this was not the time to grab a broom and mop. Arrow led Mika out of the room and into his own cell, thankfully it was just across the hall. There, he gently steered him onto the large, scruffy, well-loved couch. Mika was bleeding from multiple lacerations on his hands and forearms where he'd evidently gotten into a fight with the mirror. Arrow could clearly see there was still a good amount of glass embedded in his skin. Arrow left Mika there for a moment and returned quickly with a small wooden box in which he kept some basic medical supplies.

"Arms out. You've got half your mirror sticking out of you." Arrow murmured. "Gods, I leave you unsupervised for ten minutes..."

To Arrow's great relief, Mika allowed him to set about plucking glass from his skin with a small set of tweezers. It was slow going. Arrow moved as gently as he could but his large hands weren't used to such delicate work, and Mika was still trembling violently. But Arrow had all the time in the world, so he laboured for the better part of an hour until he was confident that he'd gotten it all.

Arrow murmured a variation of the same mantra every few minutes even though he knew from personal experience it didn't help: "I know it hurts. I'm here. We're going to get through this. You are so loved." Until finally the task was finished.

"This is the last one." Arrow whispered as he gently plucked what appeared to be the last piece of glass from Mika's wounds. Mika had stopped crying but Arrow did not feel relieved by that fact. The panicked, broken sobs had been replaced by an expression of numb helplessness that was much harder to watch than tears. Arrow fetched a cloth and delicately cleaned each cut.

"All done. You can rest now." Said Arrow.

Mika sagged forwards again, holding his face in his hands and breathing heavily. Arrow cringed at the thought of how much worse he'd be feeling in the morning; all he could smell was whiskey.

"I have to tell Gracie..." Mika whimpered suddenly. He was staring at Arrow through wild, panicked eyes and his breathing had started to quicken again.

"I know." Arrow replied in a steady, even tone. "But you can't think about that right now. Once your head is clear, you can sit down and plan exactly what you want to say to her."

"How can I explain it... when I don't even understand? He betrayed her too!"

"Shhhh. Breathe. You haven't even had time to process it yet. Gracie is a thousand miles away with no idea anything is wrong. Let her be happy for a few more days."

Mika paused for a moment but then became erratic once more.

"I can't do this..." he moaned, his body shaking with sobs again.

"You have to." Arrow replied calmly. "You don't have the luxury of tapping out. You have to fight through it. We need you. She needs you."

"I can't... Make it stop..."

The quiet desperation in those three words crippled what was left of Arrow's heart and he had to fight to keep himself calm and steadfast. He gently slipped his arms around Mika's shoulders.

"I wish I could. I'd do anything... you know that." Arrow whispered. "Just get some rest. Take as much time off as you need. Come back to work when you're ready."

"Never going back... I'm done." Mika replied, shaking his head numbly.

"Done what?"

"All of it... Throne. Mountain. I'm done. I give up. Can't do it anymore."

Arrow didn't think his heart could sink any lower, and yet... his first instinct upon hearing those sobering words was panic. To shout, "I think the fuck not." But he forced himself to remain calm. He decided the best thing to do in that moment was ignore the unsettling proclamation. Mika was drunk and in shock, there was no way he'd actually quit. Not a chance, ever. So Arrow just hugged him harder.

Mika gave up trying to speak. Eventually the heartwrenching sobs abated, his body relaxed and he melted into his best friend's strong embrace as exhaustion finally won over panic.

"Physically speaking, does anything else hurt?" Arrow asked cautiously. Mika shook his head.

"Good. Right now you need to drink some water, and get some sleep. In that order." Said Arrow. "Don't think about tomorrow, okay? One day at a time."

Arrow gently disentangled himself so he could stand up and fetch some water and his warmest blanket. He was relieved when Mika obediently drained the cup, then slowly lay down and closed his eyes. Eventually his erratic breathing evened out, and he drifted mercifully off to sleep. At least he could be free of pain for a few hours. Arrow sat on the floor with his back against the couch, breathing deeply. Now he could try to organize his own emotions.

As he sat, the weary tattooed Prince remembered one of the first few nights he'd spent back in Vampire Mountain after life as he knew it came to a halt. Sarah's demise had sent him into a downward spiral full of more forms of destruction than you can count. Violence, self-harm, suicidal ideations, and substance abuse hadn't yet faded into his past when he found himself sitting on the floor of his old cell, screaming incoherently at Mika who just... sat there. On the other side of the room, but at eye level with Arrow. Mika had barely been a General for a month at that point and there were a million other things he could have been doing. Arrow remembered yelling at Mika over and over again to just get out, to leave him alone.

And he remembered Mika shaking his head and responding with unyielding determination:

"I'm not leaving, Arrow. I'll stay over here, I won't touch you. I won't even talk if you don't want me to. But I'm not leaving you alone."

Mika spoke those words decades ago, but now Arrow responded:

"I'm not leaving you either." He whispered into the darkness as one lonely tear rolled down his cheek.

Arrow knew he needed sleep almost as much as Mika did but he sat awake for an hour or so just in case. Mika's level of intoxication was concerning, but it did cause him to drift off to sleep much more easily than he would have otherwise.

Paris checked in with Arrow shortly after, and the apprehension in his mind was clear.

PS: How is he holding up?

A: Remember how I was after Sarah?

PS: I don't like to.

A: He might be worse.

PS: I was afraid of that.

A: Honestly, I don't think we're any further ahead than we would've been if we'd just gone ahead and killed Kurda.

PS: Stay with him. I'll come check on you both tomorrow. Darren will be fine in the Hall by himself for a while. He'll have Larten to help him anyway.

A: Yeah.

PS: Get some rest, Arrow. Look after yourself. Remember, you cannot pour from an empty cup. And all three will have to do a lot of pouring in the foreseeable future. Well, four of us now

A: Love you, Paris.

PS: And I love you, my son. Both of you. Everything will be okay as long as we have each other.


So, just remember who you are
How you were never one for folding
How you never liked the corner
How the dark don't even know you

When Mika awoke many hours later, all he knew was that everything hurt. The withdrawal from the strong liquor left him weak and and shivering. His head throbbed so badly he could barely open his eyes, even the faint torchlight hurt terribly. The physical pain was miserable. But the weight of everything else was all-consuming.

He knew Arrow was close by, he could hear him slowly walking around the room, rummaging here and there. Mika didn't feel ready to open his eyes yet but he was aware he was still on the couch in Arrow's cell and he supposed that made sense. Where else could he have gone? He'd rendered his own room uninhabitable. It wasn't the first time he'd slept here. Years ago when Arrow was suffering from nightmares or episodes of heavy depression, Mika had spent countless hours here keeping an eye on him. More recently, there'd been the handful of fights with Kurda that had Mika storming across the hall and flopping down here so he could sleep alone. Sometimes Arrow would be on the floor in his coffin and he'd mumble a sleepy greeting before going back to sleep. Other times Arrow would be on duty in the Hall and Mika would just appreciate the comfortable silence, knowing Arrow wouldn't mind him being there.

This couch and Mika went way back, no question about it. He tried very hard not to think about the night he'd sat here beside Arrow, trying to figure out his feelings for Kurda at the last possible minute before he was scheduled to marry Arra. He distinctly remembered how, upon the conclusion of that conversation, his first thought had been that everything was going to be okay after that. He was in love with Kurda. Evidence suggested Kurda is in love with him too. He'd figured it out just in time.

You didn't figure out fuck all! He longed to scream at his past self. Look at you now! Look how well that went! It's only by pure luck and a kid's honour you're not dead!

The thought made his stomach churn. He knew this part was inevitable after that much whiskey, but he still dreaded it. As he lurched upright and opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was a bucket beside the couch. Arrow truly was a guardian angel of the highest order. But Mika didn't have time to hold onto that comforting thought because he then became violently sick into the bucket for what felt like an hour and he'd never wanted to die as much as he did in that moment. The sudden noise and motion alerted Arrow to the fact that Mika had awoken, and Arrow quickly dashed back over to the couch to sit beside him and gently stroke his back until it was over.

"Oh gods... fuck..." Mika gasped, sagging heavily back against the couch when he could finally breathe again. "I'm sorry, Arrow, I'm so sorry."

"It's okay. Don't apologize." Arrow murmured. "Do you remember anything?"

Mika registered a stinging ache in his hands and arms and with dismay he vaguely remembered punching his mirror to pieces just to watch it shatter. And when that hadn't been enough, he'd turned his rage on his beloved coffin and tore that to pieces with his bare hands. The memories that coffin held were too much. So excruciating the only way to get rid of them had to be to just destroy the coffin. Didn't work. And because there wasn't enough sharp things on the floor after that, he'd smashed the bottle of whiskey too. The last thing he remembered the way Arrow's voice broke as he walked in and found his best friend on the floor in a bloody heap of destruction. Everything else was a black hole.

"I remember getting drunk in the Hall... Paris kept giving me dirty looks. Then I went back to my room to sleep. And I looked in the mirror and I thought I saw him."

"That explains why you ran your fist through it." Arrow sighed.

"And then I smashed the coffin... I remember being on the floor...then you coming in. That's all."

"I spent an hour picking broken glass out of your skin. You scared the fuck out of me." Said Arrow bluntly. "You were... how I was. After Sarah."

Mika winced and closed his eyes. He remembered those days all too well.

"I know it's not the same as Sarah... but it feels like he died." Mika responded hollowly. "And I don't know how I'm supposed to feel about that now."

"You don't have closure this way." Arrow explained gently. "He may be dead to us for all intents and purposes... but the truth is, as long as he's alive, it's going to hurt you."

"I knew that when I made my decision." Mika replied decisively. "No amount of pain is worth being the one to take him away from Gracie."

Arrow heaved a deep sigh.

"Remember when you used to sit with me for hours when I was in a bad place, and you kept telling me over and over that someday I'd be okay again?" He said instead.

"Yeah."

"I didn't believe you at the time. And I know you don't believe me now, but I promise someday this will all just be a bad memory. I was never the same after Sarah, and you won't be the same after this. But eventually you'll start to feel normal again. It'll just be a new normal... I don't know how to explain it, but you'll see. Someday." Said Arrow encouragingly.

Arrow was right; Mika didn't believe a word of it. But he leaned his head against Arrow's shoulder and closed his eyes.

A while later, there came a soft knock at the door.

"Come in." Said Arrow.

Paris strode into the room and even though his vision was still slightly blurry, Mika could see the tears spring into the old man's eyes when he saw the state his old apprentice was in. Paris swiftly sat down on the couch beside Mika, looking at him with profound concern. Mika tried to meet his gaze, tried to put up a strong front for his mentor but honestly he just wanted to lie back down and go to sleep again.

"How are you holding up?" Paris asked wearily.

"Bad." Mika replied bluntly after a moment.

"Thank you for being honest with me." Said Paris with a weak chuckle. Mika raised his eyebrows slightly.

"You're welcome. My pleasure." He grunted.

"Did you sleep?" Paris asked, addressing Arrow.

"Got a few hours, yeah. I'm ready to head back to the Hall." Said Arrow.

"Good. Darren and Larten are there now. I sent them both away to get some sleep late last night, they just got back a minute ago. That's when I came up here." Paris explained.

"I'll go sit with the kid." Said Arrow with a faint smile. "Guess it's his first real day on duty. I'll fill him in on the official job description and see if he still wants the position after that."

Paris chuckled.

"Go easy on him. But not too easy... he's a resilient young man. The next few nights will test him, but I believe he will rise to the challenge magnificently."

"Don't let him sit in my throne." Said Mika abruptly.

"Ah, good. There's still some Mika attitude in there." Said Arrow gently, squeezing his friend's shoulder as he stood up to leave.

"Thanks, A. For everything." Mika mumbled drowsily. He shifted from sitting to laying now that Arrow had vacated the couch.

"Got your back, always. I'll see you later."

Arrow left the room. Paris remained seated on the couch. It was just long enough for him to sit on one end while Mika lay beside him.

The ancient Prince let out a long, weary sigh and cautiously laid his palm on his younger colleague's forehead, softly stroking it with his thumb. Mika drew breath to ask Paris to leave him in peace but his old mentor's warm hand felt soothing against his clammy skin so he kept quiet and allowed himself to be comforted.

"Mika..." Paris murmured after a few minutes of silence.

"No..." Mika mumbled. "Can't talk about it anymore. Not today."

"Shhh. I just wanted to tell you that I am so incredibly proud of how you remained strong for the clan, ever since the moment Darren reappeared and changed everything. It was cruel that you had no choice but to put aside your own feelings while the situation was handled, but it is the reality of our roles. I know you've always understood that, but never before have you been tested so harshly. You have always been a rock to the clan, Mika. Even as the world was crumbling around you. You've been so brave... and I love you so very much. Take a couple days off to recover. Arrow and I will support you however you need us to."

Mika did not reply, but Paris watched as he reached up to wipe away a tear that was escaping from his closed eyelids as he lay there.

"I'd rather not leave you here alone, but I no longer feel you're a hazard to yourself. So if you want me to go, I will respect that." Paris added.

"I don't mind if you sit here for a while." Said Mika after a moment, so quietly it was barely even a whisper. Paris sighed in relief.

"Good. I'd still feel better knowing you aren't alone." Said Paris. He stood up, but only to drag Arrow's small storage chest closer to the couch so that he could use it as a foot rest.

"You're not the only one who's tired." Paris explained with a wayward smile. He exhaled contentedly as he sat back down and propped his feet upon the chest as he leaned back into the soft couch cushions. He crossed his arms over his chest but that wasn't quite comfortable. So instead he rested his right arm on the armrest, and the left arm on Mika's shoulder which happened to be at just the right height. He expected his old apprentice to growl or grumble at the physical contact but if anything he seemed to relax. Paris found this reassuring, he'd half-expected Mika to have stormed back to his demolished cell with another bottle of liquor and lock himself in by now. And seeing as grief came in waves, perhaps that would still happen yet. But for now, he was asleep, sober (albeit hungover), and safe. And Paris was happy for those small victories, so he fell asleep there too.

Would you believe me in the car
What if I never dropped you home?
What if we drove until the morning?
You said you never loved before him

When Mika woke up again, the physical pain was considerably less than before and for that he was grateful. But he also felt a foggy sense of disorientation as if he'd just come out of a coma. He slowly raised his head and looked around the room blearily. He could see Arrow sitting at his desk.

"How long did I sleep?" Mika asked abruptly. Arrow jolted in surprise at the sudden sound of his voice but smiled kindly as he turned to face Mika.

"Hey. Welcome back." Said Arrow gently. "You've been asleep all day. Actually, I was about to wake you up. How are you feeling now?"

"Sober and sore." Said Mika disdainfully.

"Well, you did fight an army of vampaneze, a raging Larten Crepsley, a bottle of whiskey, and half your furniture all in a very short period of time. But I'm not worried about your body, Mika. Injuries heal."

"Okay then. I'm sad. Is that what you want to hear?"

"That's a place to start, I guess."

"What more do you want from me?" Mika growled.

Arrow sighed.

"The last thing I want to twist the knife here, Mika. I know you're not okay. I wouldn't expect you to be, it's barely been 24 hours. But last night you said something, and I keep thinking about it."

"And what was that?"

"You said you were done. That you wanted to quit... not be a Prince anymore." Said Arrow quietly. "That's what scared me the most."

Mika didn't speak for a long time. He looked down at the floor, then at the wall, then down at his hands.

"I was really drunk, Arrow."

"I've seen you really drunk a thousand times. You've never said anything like that. And even when you're drunk, you don't say things unless you mean them."

"Yeah well, I've never had my entire life collapse into a raging trash fire over the course of 3 days before."

"But you wouldn't actually step away... right?" Arrow pressed, his voice undercut with urgency.

Mika exhaled slowly and finally looked Arrow dead in the eye with a weary resolve.

"Put it this way. I know better than to make a decision like that at a time like this... but at this present moment, I don't care if I ever walk back into that room."

"You're in shock. Give it time." Said Arrow decisively.

"Don't look so horrified. You're the one who asked." Mika replied with a dispassionate scowl.

"You were supposed to tell me you didn't really mean it. That it was just the trauma talking." Arrow replied, frowning.

"Oh. Sorry. I didn't really mean it. I was just playing a joke on you. Better?"

"Too late now. I know you're lying."

"Fuck, Arrow... don't you have bigger things to worry about right now than me? I appreciate it, but between you and Paris I feel like I'm on suicide watch."

A shadow flashed across Arrow's face.

"Don't joke about that." Arrow snapped.

"I wasn't joking at all. But I apologize."

"Mika, when I was struggling all those years ago, you dropped everything to sit beside me, every single time I needed you. Even when I didn't want you there, which was most times. You pulled me through hell single-handedly, til we made it to the other side. Your hell may not look like mine did, but if you think for a minute I'm going to stop worrying about you... you're not the smart one after all."

The corners of Mika's mouth twitched. It wasn't even close to a smile, but it was progress.

"You don't always have to be strong for everyone. You're allowed to fall apart, gods know you've earned that right a thousand times over." Arrow continued doggedly, eyes gleaming with emotion. "You can doubt yourself, and you can hate yourself, hate Kurda, hate the clan, hate the vampaneze... feel whatever you need to feel. But you are not allowed to give up on yourself, or on us. That's not who you are. You're a fucking force of nature, Mika. You always have been, and you will be again. Even I have to carry you across the finish line kicking and screaming, we are going to get the clan through this."

Mika held Arrow's gaze, his face impassive but his eyes softened slightly.

"I see." He told Arrow defeatedly.

"Damn right you do." Said Arrow with finality. Now, when was the last time you ate?"

"Don't know." Mika admitted. And it was true. The last few days had been so much, his mind hadn't had time to register hunger and it just hadn't occurred to him to take care of himself.

"You up for a walk to the Hall of Khledon Lurt?" Arrow asked. Mika suddenly looked defeated and he leaned back into the couch.

"I don't want to see people... they'll ask me things. They'll want to know how I'm doing. Can't deal with that now."

"Yes, people are inconsiderate jerks." Said Arrow sardonically, but then he softened. "It's okay. Eventually I'm going to shove you off this couch to face the world again, but not yet. Stay here, I'll grab you something."

Mika sighed mournfully but looked more relaxed.

"I don't deserve you, A. But you don't have to take care of me. I'll be fine."

Arrow frowned back at him as he slowly stood up to leave.

"Fuck that. You've been my other half since we were cubs, Mika. Nothing in this world can touch that. No clan drama, no significant other, no war, not Desmond Fucking Tiny himself. I know you feel like you're losing everything. But you're stuck with me. Not up for debate."

It wasn't easy, in fact it was almost physically painful but Mika managed to force a small smile for Arrow at those words. It was worth the effort because the look of relief on Arrow's face was luminous. But once Arrow finally left the room, the smile vanished like a snowflake in a fire, and Mika broke down once more.

Holding, waiting for something
That'll keep you from the cold
It feels like winter follows you around
Holding, waiting for something
That'll keep you from the cold

You know me so you know I'm feeling lonely now
Lonely right down in my heart


I'm sorry guys that was literally the grimmest chapter I've written in my life, bar none. Every single vampire in this mountain needs a therapist tbh. I had a moment where I wondered if I maybe made Mika a little too dramatic buuut then I read back over the events leading up to this and was like... nah my boy is 110% justified. We've seen Kurda lose his shit a couple times and Mika had come very close, but he's kept it together til literally just now and honestly I've put this man through way too much. I just wanna drive him to McDonalds and buy him a dozen happy meals and tell him how sorry I am.

Don't worry, Kurda will absolutely be back. He's just not DOING anything right now other than wandering in the woods, but rest assured we'll check back in with him very soon. Also Larten and Darren will have a larger role in this one so that's fun!

Thanks for reading! Please leave some feedback if you have time - I crave validation.

- Roxy