Chapter Text
Dominique aggressively knocked on the door to her grandfather’s office.
“Good evening, my child. Please enter.”
Domi stormed into the office, gold heels assaulting the floor with each click. Response or not, she would’ve barged in. Knocking was simply a courtesy.
One born from habit. Not respect.
She was not inclined to be much more courteous than this, given her current state.
She looked directly into the heterochrome eyes of the Comte de Saint Germain. The blue and purple irises together on anyone else’s face would’ve seemed like a gentle reminder. A nostalgic coincidence. But the Comte wore this so-called coincidence like a badge of honor.
It disgusted Domi.
It was as if his existence in and of itself was an insult to the memory of both Vanitas and her dear Noé.
“Grandfather,” she hissed, then took a breath. “Did you know?”
“Ah yes, I see. Right to the point are we, Dominique?” The Comte chuckled with amusement. “Alright. You never have been one for pleasantries, my dear, have you?”
The young de Sade’s returning glance was not a single flame short of furious. “Is it really out of your realm of capability to excuse my lack of pleasantries when I want to know…” she took a quick breath to prepare for the words she wished she would never have to dictate, “…if you had a hand in killing Noé?”
The Comte heartily chuckled once again. “Killing Noé? My child, I assure you, I did nothing of the sort.”
“Liar.”
“Regretfully, not.”
Domi huffed in annoyance. “Grandfather,” she spat mockingly, “Truthfully, I’ve grown sick of your twisted games of which only you know the rules. First Louis and now Noé? Have you no regret?”
“Regret?” the Comte paused. For longer than he needed. “My dearest Dominique,” he looked into her golden eyes, “both experiments were successful.”
What?
“Experi…” Domi stuttered, “experiments?”
“Oh Dominique.” The Comte sighed, the corners of his mouth almost upturning into a smile. He lowered his head to look at the thick handwritten notebook on his desk before continuing. “My dear, why do you think the Archiviste Clan no longer exists? Why every remaining descendant of that bloodline is now deceased?”
Domi was perplexed. “What does this even have to do with Noé?”
“Do try to follow along, my child.”
As much as Domi didn’t want to listen to her grandfather’s theatrics for one more moment, she was aching to know what information he had hidden from her. And for how long.
“The Archivistes got themselves too involved. They got too attached. They were no longer just walking archives, as they were meant to be. As they were designed to be. They had woven themselves too deep into the narratives they swore to simply document.”
He continued, “But an Archiviste can’t help it. They will always cross the line from passive observer to willing participant. The urge is involuntary. It’s in their blood. And Noé proved that to me time and time again. And in doing so, also managed to eliminate the last of his bloodline from the world.”
Domi growled. “What did you do to him?”
“Dominique, I know you are a smart one so I’m quite certain you already understood me the first time. I did nothing to him.” The Comte stood and walked toward the back of his office.
“I just…” he paused, seemingly trying to cherry-pick the perfect next words to follow.
“…sent him a gift, is all.” He removed both of his white gloves, pocketed them, grabbed the key hanging from around his neck, and used it to open a triple locked safe inside a cabinet in the back corner of the room. It was completely hidden. No one would’ve ever noticed it was there unless shown.
Domi had certainly never seen it before, even if she had poked around his office a few times looking for details about Louis many years ago.
He glanced behind him to observe his granddaughter’s physical response.
Domi had to bite her tongue in order to stop the bile in her stomach from rising.
“A means to an end.” He gestured to a cabinet full of jars. Each jar full of blood. And each labelled with a name.
First, “#69 - Vanitas”
Then “#70 - Louis”
And “#71 - Mikhail”
But one jar sat in the furthest top left corner. It read…
“#1 - Noé”
Domi, with a hand over her mouth, gagged, failing to keep her composure from simultaneous disgust and fury.
“This dearest Vanitas of his didn’t want his memories in the hands of anyone else. He made that very clear to Noé. He even threatened to kill anyone who took them by force. After I sent him this little gift, Noé caved, as I knew he would, because an Archiviste will always be too connected to the stories they collect.”
Domi was surprised she still hadn’t vomited. She wanted to.
“Noé chose to respect his partner’s wishes. Both killing him when his fragile human form succumbed to the power of the book and also preventing anyone else from seeing any memories of… Blue…” the Comte sighed with a small smile on his face as if dusting off the shadow of a memory long passed, “The Vampire of the Blue Moon.”
The Comte paced back to his desk and stood behind his seat, hands gripping the back of the gaudy upholstered chair on its sides.
“And now we have a perfect account of all events Noé deemed important.” The Comte gestured to the notebook sitting open on his desk. “But without the… mess… of storing them inside a living person.”
Domi followed his gaze. She now recognized it as the notebook Noé would write in frequently after curing a curse bearer with Vanitas.
“Go ahead, my child,” the Comte chided. “Wouldn’t you like to take a peek?” With a single swift motion of one hand, the Comte turned and pushed the book toward a wide-eyed Dominique.
The intensity of Domi’s golden eyes had been watered down as she looked down at the book. It was already flipped to the last page. It was Noé’s handwriting for sure, she confirmed.
Was this the last thing he ever wrote? She needed to know what he said.
Two hands, imperceptibly shaking, picked up the book, and the young de Sade began to read the dying words of her longest and dearest childhood friend.
“Dearest Reader,
I am pleased to announce this Case Study of Vanitas has come to a close, so this will be the last memo for your review.
All of these previous accounts document how, to the best of my knowledge and according to the wishes of my Teacher (The Shapeless One and also known as the Comte de Saint Germain) I became an active part of the stories associated with the Book of Vanitas in order to assess its nature.
However, unexpectedly, I fear I have chosen one story too many with which to engage.
And so, my duty as an Archiviste must end here.
The memories which I have dubbed worthy of documentation are written as part of this study, where I can confirm that all malnomens and corruptions of the true name, caused by and including Queen Faustina’s Naenia, have been finally eradicated from the world."
Domi noticed Noé’s usually pristine handwriting getting sloppy near the beginning of a collection of circular discolorations on the bottom of the page. All of them seemed to be haphazardly wiped away causing the ink to smear like a watercolor painting.
Noé… Domi thought through her own tears. Were you crying too?
"As for the rest, a dear friend once made me promise that it is best that those stories and memories be forgotten. And due to a mistake made in my weakness, forgotten along with myself.
To conclude, I have indeed assessed the true nature of the Book of Vanitas over these past few years and have determined that its existence is no longer necessary. Its use is obsolete.
Its story is over. And, my dearest Teacher, because his story is not mine to share, as is mine."
" -Noé"