Amberlight 11/13
Title: Amberlight
Fandom: AU The Devil Wears Prada
Pairing: Miranda/Andy
Rating:Mature
Summary: A year after Paris, Andy has her life on track again, she's rocketing to success in her job at the Mirror and her freelance work has caused her to be taken under the wing of one of New York's elite writers. So, it's obvious that it's about time for fate to throw a wrench into the works once again.
Author's Note: Real life and family issues have stifed any urge to do anything but endure. Now the clouds have lifted and the light shines back. Here's the third to last chapter.
Elizabeth's lack of clothing only heightened the strange aura of predation and power that swirled around her. Her answering smile to Andy's outburst was cold, and the twinkle in her eye held a malicious gleam that bode no good will. “ 'You!'?” She mocked, “surely you can be more eloquent in your responses, Andrea.” Her fingers clutched the fur of the chocolate wolves flanking her; the surreal picture of a hunting goddess with her sacred animals. She twisted her head to stare down at Miranda, who had broken from her stand-off to prowl closer to Elizabeth.
“Miranda, I suggest you go back to the house now. The night's activities aren't over and I don't need you wound up and irritable.” She stretched her hand towards the white wolf, and quickly took it back before Miranda's teeth could break the skin. “If you're going to have an attitude, you don't get to stick around,” she sniffed, and then caught sight of the whimpering wolf that had ripped into Andy's leg earlier. “Brianna?”
Brianna, if that's whoever the damned wolf was, responded with another pathetic whimper and crawled on her belly to prostrate herself before Elizabeth, exposing her throat. Elizabeth knelt down and crooned softly to the wolf as she checked her over, halting her hands at her eye. “What--”
“Tell her not to bite me next time, and I'll refrain from jabbing her eye out!”
“You did this? You?” Elizabeth's tone was unbelieving, and Andy's indignation must have shown on her face, because Elizabeth straightened and stormed right at her. Only the gate behind Andy prevented her from backing up from the furious woman. She looked livid, and her hazel eyes flashed dangerously. It looked as if it took all her willpower to refrain herself-- from what, though? -- and she turned her head just enough to be able to look the pony-sized wolves in the eyes. “Back to the House.”
Four of the wolves let out small wuffs of agreement, dropped their gaze, and turned tail; beginning the trek back to the house as Elizabeth commanded. The fifth wolf, however, kept her gaze locked on Elizabeth, her ears pricked forward, and her tail held high. Andy knew enough from Animal Planet that those weren't “yes, ma'am” signs. Of course, Miranda never 'yes, ma'am'ed' anyone, so she probably didn't even have that in either her wolf or her human vocabulary.
“Miranda...” Elizabeth frowned, then glared at the larger of the two brown wolves, who had paused to see why his packmate hadn't followed. “James, I trust that you can persuade her. If need be, sully that pristine coat of hers. Blood can always wash out.”
The larger, Andy realized that the bigger size meant 'male', wolf turned a wide circle and loped back up. He growled low, pushing forward into Miranda's space. Andy felt a vague sort of fascination with the idea that she might see Miranda Priestly lose her composure. After all, wolves didn't kow-tow with haughty sneers, right?
Animal Planet hadn't covered werewolves, though.
Miranda didn't budge. Her ears flicked back against her skull in displeasure, but there was no snarl, no hackles, nothing but a very wolfish version of her trademarked cool disapproval. Andy could probably connect the scene with a designer forgetting the one dress that Miranda had enjoyed at his latest show, but the firm press of the gate into her lower back made the image vanish. This wasn't Runway's offices. This was a lonely driveway in the middle of the woods, and it was slowly dawning on Andy that this might just be her last night ever.
“Miranda...” her voice was shaky. She stopped, sucked in a breath, and tried again, struggling to keep her voice firm as she raised it. “Miranda.” She waited until she was sure Miranda was looking at her. “J-just,” damn it, she was stuttering now, “just do as she says, ok?”
Miranda's eyes narrowed in displeasure. Elizabeth smirked. “That's a good girl, Miranda. Listen to Andrea now.”
Andy forced herself to shove all the creeping sensations of fear down and matched Miranda's look. “Damn it, Miranda, if I get hurt, it's just me. If you get hurt, who's gonna take care of the twins, huh?” It was a low blow, but if Andy was going to ...end up hurt, she didn't need Miranda sharing in the pain. Besides, Miranda seemed to be one of the factors in this drama, and if she was removed, perhaps there could be a chance that Elizabeth would allow her to leave. Alive, and not in a body bag. The sting of her words reflected in Miranda's eyes and she slipped past James without further responses. She trotted up the long drive until she was a pale silhouette in the night. Then, she was gone. It hurt watching what was quite possibly her only ally leave, but Andy's choice had been right; Elizabeth didn't look as willing to lash out and hurt her now.
“I should have listened to her when she first brought you up in conversation.” If Andy closed her eyes, she could imagine Elizabeth talking over a shared glass of wine. “She mentioned that you were nothing but surprises, day after day. That Harry Potter fiasco, well, that cemented you as potential indeed.” Elizabeth circled closer as she spoke. “She saw in you what I saw in her: a kindred spirit, a woman who could embrace the Change and make it worth so much more than howling at the moon. Then, you did what she couldn't.”
“What couldn't she do?”
“Leave.” Elizabeth's eyes glittered with dark merriment. “You took the offer and walked away from it.”
“She never ... she never offered me anything.”
“Didn't she?” Elizabeth canted her head. “ 'Everyone wants to be us'. 'I see a great deal of myself in you'? Isn't that what she said to you mere moments before you bolted like a rabbit?”
“Well, yes, but--”
“Mere preludes to the question, Andrea. But you refused her, refused everything she stood for.” Elizabeth waited until Andy nodded her agreement. “That was when I decided that you would be given the Change.”
“Why?”
“Why? Because it would haunt Miranda for the rest of her life, that's why. Instead of you, a packmember, learning all that We can offer, under her guidance; you become one of the lost mongrels that must be put down for the sake of the Pack. t's a beautiful revenge.”
Andy blinked. She was revenge? “Why?”
“Is that all you can say at the grand reveal of the tale? 'Why'?” Elizabeth blew out a breath. “Put some effort into it, would you?” She shook her head, then continued. “Because Miranda refused me. Oh, not the Change, obviously, but everything else I wanted to give her. Look at her, she's worth far more than Beta status.” Andy couldn't help but agree with that. “I wanted her to become my companion, be my equal in every way. She turned me down.”
“You're doing this because she didn't want to sleep with you?” Andy repeated it slowly, as if to make sure she heard correctly. Then: “Wait, what did you do?”
Elizabeth laughed. “It's not obvious? I bit you, restraining myself (as only an Alpha can) to make sure the Gift was passed on, and then without the reassuring aura that a newly changed pup needs, watch you go rabid and then give Miranda the order to kill you.” Oh, well, when she put it that way, it sounded so everyday-like.
“So this is the big reveal before you release the hounds?”
“Unfortunately, no.” Elizabeth scowled, and the irritation from earlier returned to her features. “Perhaps it could have worked before you wrecked Brianna's eye, but not now. Now, you're blooded.” She said that as if Andy should know what it meant. “The majority of the Pack won't dare to bare fang at you now.” Elizabeth held up a finger. “Don't you dare say 'why' again, I might as well explain.”
“Undoubtedly James told you some romanticized story about how Man and Wolf became one, right? Probably ended with some warmhearted fable of how we shared cultures and now the two were stronger for the whole.” She snorted. “Let me tell you the truth:”
“It starts the same way; Man was cast out of the Garden, Man mastered the flame, whatever version suits you best. However, Man wasn't weak. Man learned how to adapt, used his cunning to craft tools and weapons to level the playing field with predators. A man went out into the wilderness, seeking greater knowledge of the hunt.”
“What's the difference from this and the first story?.”
“Wolf didn't answer Man. A spirit that thrived on the hunt, on the kill did. The Native Americans called it the Wendigo, a part of the natural order, and it saw in that men the ability to correct the lack of predators humanity had. So, the Wendigo created the first werewolf but he was a monster who slaked his appetite on blood and death. The werewolf killed the tribe's best warriors, and then the chief, but his bloodlust didn't stop there. He went after the younger men, then the women and children. Finally, only his son was left, and the the first werewolf died on his own son's spear.”
“I think Cain and Abel covered the story of the first murder with a bit more tact.”
Elizabeth shushed her. “The story isn't done, or would you rather I kill you now?” Andy shook her head. “I thought not. Now, the story might have ended there if not for the fact that the werewolf had managed to bite his son, thus delivering the Wendigo's essence into the boy. The boy, barely able to hold a spear properly, took the Change and became, not a monster living only to hunt and kill, but a werewolf who could master the primal instincts with the reasoning of man. He was able to walk among the tribes of humanity and it was within him that the strength and predatory prowess of the Wendigo was used to it's full potential.”
“He was the first Alpha of the first pack, his absolute mastery of both the beast and the man granting him an aura to control the Wendigo essence in the other werewolves he created. As long as an Alpha controlled the pack, there was no chance of the slavering beast returning. Over the generations, two strains were discovered. The lesser, weaker strain was called the Follower Strain, or Gamma. This strain needed the Alpha's aura to control it, least the Wendigo's hunger break through. That, Andrea, was what I intended for your fate.”
Andy didn't much like the cruel smile dancing over her ex-mentor's lips. “Intended? Intended is a past tense,you've changed your mind?”
“You are really never ceasing to surprise. See, Andrea, you caused a flaw in my plan. You had the makings of the second strain.” She waved away Andrea's beginning of a question. “The second, stronger strain is the Beta Strain. These wolves, if left without the Alpha's interference don't become Mongrels. They become Alphas in their own rights.”
“What?”
“Exactly my first reaction when you mentioned you had a dream.”
“Everyone has dreams, Elizabeth.”
“Oh, indeed they do, but proper little Gamma wolves left out for the Wendigo don't fight back in them. They cower and shriek and plead. They don't yell back. They certainly don't fight back.” Elizabeth brushed her fingertips along Andy's shoulder, then over the bite. “I underestimated you, and I'll make sure not to make the same mistake twice.”
“I'm not an Alpha.” Andy winced as her voice shook.
“I wished that was true. It would make the night so much easier.” Elizabeth's fingers pressed in on the wound, forcing Andy to kneel from the pressure and pain. Her vision grew blurry, and a roar echoed in her ears. “I know Miranda can disobey, so she's out and James alone isn't strong enough to counter you. I suppose I'll have to finish the job myself.” Elizabeth's words were drowned out by the roar. Her vision tunneled, until only Elizabeth's face was in focus. “Not as poetic as I had hoped, but revenge nonetheless. Goodbye, Andrea.”
Elizabeth shifted her weight, most likely to turn the pressure into a stranglehold. The move brought the full moon as the only clarity Andy had left. Behind the curtain of pain, Andy sensed the unnatural tingle along the base of her neck grow. This time, it came with a feeling of indignation and fury; some from the utter unfairness that marked Elizabeth's decisions, the rest from a pit deep within the recesses of her mind, long-buried with primal instincts long forgotten. The rage spilled into her blood, and she grew feverish; it caressed over her mind and her reasoning was lost. It bled through her vision and turned the moon scarlet in her sights. It fueled her muscles and her hand snapped about Elizabeth's wrist quicker than thought.
“We've got a problem, Lisa.” Andy used the nickname Doctor Michaels had earlier. “Two, actually.” She squeezed, and felt the pressure leave her neck as Elizabeth backed away, wary. “The first? You're a terrible hostess. A good hostess doesn't kill her guest.” When Elizabeth was no longer touching her, Andy got back to her feet. “The second? I'm nobody's plaything.” She shoved Elizabeth back. The air grew thick with power about her. “Oh, and there's a third bit.”
“What would that be?” Elizabeth's voice was laced with worry. When Andy inhaled, a sweet scent, that only registered as 'fear' somewhere in her mind, blew on the wind.
“You should have killed me when you had the chance.” The last words carried off into a snarl as Andy fell to all fours, her paws easily holding traction on the drive. She tested her claws, working them into the gravel, and bent into a luxurious stretch. The night was alive to her now, blazing as if it was high noon. Elizabeth's color was washed out, but the shock was evident. Elizabeth backpedaled, her image turning hazy. Andy pounced.
Fandom: AU The Devil Wears Prada
Pairing: Miranda/Andy
Rating:Mature
Summary: A year after Paris, Andy has her life on track again, she's rocketing to success in her job at the Mirror and her freelance work has caused her to be taken under the wing of one of New York's elite writers. So, it's obvious that it's about time for fate to throw a wrench into the works once again.
Author's Note: Real life and family issues have stifed any urge to do anything but endure. Now the clouds have lifted and the light shines back. Here's the third to last chapter.
Elizabeth's lack of clothing only heightened the strange aura of predation and power that swirled around her. Her answering smile to Andy's outburst was cold, and the twinkle in her eye held a malicious gleam that bode no good will. “ 'You!'?” She mocked, “surely you can be more eloquent in your responses, Andrea.” Her fingers clutched the fur of the chocolate wolves flanking her; the surreal picture of a hunting goddess with her sacred animals. She twisted her head to stare down at Miranda, who had broken from her stand-off to prowl closer to Elizabeth.
“Miranda, I suggest you go back to the house now. The night's activities aren't over and I don't need you wound up and irritable.” She stretched her hand towards the white wolf, and quickly took it back before Miranda's teeth could break the skin. “If you're going to have an attitude, you don't get to stick around,” she sniffed, and then caught sight of the whimpering wolf that had ripped into Andy's leg earlier. “Brianna?”
Brianna, if that's whoever the damned wolf was, responded with another pathetic whimper and crawled on her belly to prostrate herself before Elizabeth, exposing her throat. Elizabeth knelt down and crooned softly to the wolf as she checked her over, halting her hands at her eye. “What--”
“Tell her not to bite me next time, and I'll refrain from jabbing her eye out!”
“You did this? You?” Elizabeth's tone was unbelieving, and Andy's indignation must have shown on her face, because Elizabeth straightened and stormed right at her. Only the gate behind Andy prevented her from backing up from the furious woman. She looked livid, and her hazel eyes flashed dangerously. It looked as if it took all her willpower to refrain herself-- from what, though? -- and she turned her head just enough to be able to look the pony-sized wolves in the eyes. “Back to the House.”
Four of the wolves let out small wuffs of agreement, dropped their gaze, and turned tail; beginning the trek back to the house as Elizabeth commanded. The fifth wolf, however, kept her gaze locked on Elizabeth, her ears pricked forward, and her tail held high. Andy knew enough from Animal Planet that those weren't “yes, ma'am” signs. Of course, Miranda never 'yes, ma'am'ed' anyone, so she probably didn't even have that in either her wolf or her human vocabulary.
“Miranda...” Elizabeth frowned, then glared at the larger of the two brown wolves, who had paused to see why his packmate hadn't followed. “James, I trust that you can persuade her. If need be, sully that pristine coat of hers. Blood can always wash out.”
The larger, Andy realized that the bigger size meant 'male', wolf turned a wide circle and loped back up. He growled low, pushing forward into Miranda's space. Andy felt a vague sort of fascination with the idea that she might see Miranda Priestly lose her composure. After all, wolves didn't kow-tow with haughty sneers, right?
Animal Planet hadn't covered werewolves, though.
Miranda didn't budge. Her ears flicked back against her skull in displeasure, but there was no snarl, no hackles, nothing but a very wolfish version of her trademarked cool disapproval. Andy could probably connect the scene with a designer forgetting the one dress that Miranda had enjoyed at his latest show, but the firm press of the gate into her lower back made the image vanish. This wasn't Runway's offices. This was a lonely driveway in the middle of the woods, and it was slowly dawning on Andy that this might just be her last night ever.
“Miranda...” her voice was shaky. She stopped, sucked in a breath, and tried again, struggling to keep her voice firm as she raised it. “Miranda.” She waited until she was sure Miranda was looking at her. “J-just,” damn it, she was stuttering now, “just do as she says, ok?”
Miranda's eyes narrowed in displeasure. Elizabeth smirked. “That's a good girl, Miranda. Listen to Andrea now.”
Andy forced herself to shove all the creeping sensations of fear down and matched Miranda's look. “Damn it, Miranda, if I get hurt, it's just me. If you get hurt, who's gonna take care of the twins, huh?” It was a low blow, but if Andy was going to ...end up hurt, she didn't need Miranda sharing in the pain. Besides, Miranda seemed to be one of the factors in this drama, and if she was removed, perhaps there could be a chance that Elizabeth would allow her to leave. Alive, and not in a body bag. The sting of her words reflected in Miranda's eyes and she slipped past James without further responses. She trotted up the long drive until she was a pale silhouette in the night. Then, she was gone. It hurt watching what was quite possibly her only ally leave, but Andy's choice had been right; Elizabeth didn't look as willing to lash out and hurt her now.
“I should have listened to her when she first brought you up in conversation.” If Andy closed her eyes, she could imagine Elizabeth talking over a shared glass of wine. “She mentioned that you were nothing but surprises, day after day. That Harry Potter fiasco, well, that cemented you as potential indeed.” Elizabeth circled closer as she spoke. “She saw in you what I saw in her: a kindred spirit, a woman who could embrace the Change and make it worth so much more than howling at the moon. Then, you did what she couldn't.”
“What couldn't she do?”
“Leave.” Elizabeth's eyes glittered with dark merriment. “You took the offer and walked away from it.”
“She never ... she never offered me anything.”
“Didn't she?” Elizabeth canted her head. “ 'Everyone wants to be us'. 'I see a great deal of myself in you'? Isn't that what she said to you mere moments before you bolted like a rabbit?”
“Well, yes, but--”
“Mere preludes to the question, Andrea. But you refused her, refused everything she stood for.” Elizabeth waited until Andy nodded her agreement. “That was when I decided that you would be given the Change.”
“Why?”
“Why? Because it would haunt Miranda for the rest of her life, that's why. Instead of you, a packmember, learning all that We can offer, under her guidance; you become one of the lost mongrels that must be put down for the sake of the Pack. t's a beautiful revenge.”
Andy blinked. She was revenge? “Why?”
“Is that all you can say at the grand reveal of the tale? 'Why'?” Elizabeth blew out a breath. “Put some effort into it, would you?” She shook her head, then continued. “Because Miranda refused me. Oh, not the Change, obviously, but everything else I wanted to give her. Look at her, she's worth far more than Beta status.” Andy couldn't help but agree with that. “I wanted her to become my companion, be my equal in every way. She turned me down.”
“You're doing this because she didn't want to sleep with you?” Andy repeated it slowly, as if to make sure she heard correctly. Then: “Wait, what did you do?”
Elizabeth laughed. “It's not obvious? I bit you, restraining myself (as only an Alpha can) to make sure the Gift was passed on, and then without the reassuring aura that a newly changed pup needs, watch you go rabid and then give Miranda the order to kill you.” Oh, well, when she put it that way, it sounded so everyday-like.
“So this is the big reveal before you release the hounds?”
“Unfortunately, no.” Elizabeth scowled, and the irritation from earlier returned to her features. “Perhaps it could have worked before you wrecked Brianna's eye, but not now. Now, you're blooded.” She said that as if Andy should know what it meant. “The majority of the Pack won't dare to bare fang at you now.” Elizabeth held up a finger. “Don't you dare say 'why' again, I might as well explain.”
“Undoubtedly James told you some romanticized story about how Man and Wolf became one, right? Probably ended with some warmhearted fable of how we shared cultures and now the two were stronger for the whole.” She snorted. “Let me tell you the truth:”
“It starts the same way; Man was cast out of the Garden, Man mastered the flame, whatever version suits you best. However, Man wasn't weak. Man learned how to adapt, used his cunning to craft tools and weapons to level the playing field with predators. A man went out into the wilderness, seeking greater knowledge of the hunt.”
“What's the difference from this and the first story?.”
“Wolf didn't answer Man. A spirit that thrived on the hunt, on the kill did. The Native Americans called it the Wendigo, a part of the natural order, and it saw in that men the ability to correct the lack of predators humanity had. So, the Wendigo created the first werewolf but he was a monster who slaked his appetite on blood and death. The werewolf killed the tribe's best warriors, and then the chief, but his bloodlust didn't stop there. He went after the younger men, then the women and children. Finally, only his son was left, and the the first werewolf died on his own son's spear.”
“I think Cain and Abel covered the story of the first murder with a bit more tact.”
Elizabeth shushed her. “The story isn't done, or would you rather I kill you now?” Andy shook her head. “I thought not. Now, the story might have ended there if not for the fact that the werewolf had managed to bite his son, thus delivering the Wendigo's essence into the boy. The boy, barely able to hold a spear properly, took the Change and became, not a monster living only to hunt and kill, but a werewolf who could master the primal instincts with the reasoning of man. He was able to walk among the tribes of humanity and it was within him that the strength and predatory prowess of the Wendigo was used to it's full potential.”
“He was the first Alpha of the first pack, his absolute mastery of both the beast and the man granting him an aura to control the Wendigo essence in the other werewolves he created. As long as an Alpha controlled the pack, there was no chance of the slavering beast returning. Over the generations, two strains were discovered. The lesser, weaker strain was called the Follower Strain, or Gamma. This strain needed the Alpha's aura to control it, least the Wendigo's hunger break through. That, Andrea, was what I intended for your fate.”
Andy didn't much like the cruel smile dancing over her ex-mentor's lips. “Intended? Intended is a past tense,you've changed your mind?”
“You are really never ceasing to surprise. See, Andrea, you caused a flaw in my plan. You had the makings of the second strain.” She waved away Andrea's beginning of a question. “The second, stronger strain is the Beta Strain. These wolves, if left without the Alpha's interference don't become Mongrels. They become Alphas in their own rights.”
“What?”
“Exactly my first reaction when you mentioned you had a dream.”
“Everyone has dreams, Elizabeth.”
“Oh, indeed they do, but proper little Gamma wolves left out for the Wendigo don't fight back in them. They cower and shriek and plead. They don't yell back. They certainly don't fight back.” Elizabeth brushed her fingertips along Andy's shoulder, then over the bite. “I underestimated you, and I'll make sure not to make the same mistake twice.”
“I'm not an Alpha.” Andy winced as her voice shook.
“I wished that was true. It would make the night so much easier.” Elizabeth's fingers pressed in on the wound, forcing Andy to kneel from the pressure and pain. Her vision grew blurry, and a roar echoed in her ears. “I know Miranda can disobey, so she's out and James alone isn't strong enough to counter you. I suppose I'll have to finish the job myself.” Elizabeth's words were drowned out by the roar. Her vision tunneled, until only Elizabeth's face was in focus. “Not as poetic as I had hoped, but revenge nonetheless. Goodbye, Andrea.”
Elizabeth shifted her weight, most likely to turn the pressure into a stranglehold. The move brought the full moon as the only clarity Andy had left. Behind the curtain of pain, Andy sensed the unnatural tingle along the base of her neck grow. This time, it came with a feeling of indignation and fury; some from the utter unfairness that marked Elizabeth's decisions, the rest from a pit deep within the recesses of her mind, long-buried with primal instincts long forgotten. The rage spilled into her blood, and she grew feverish; it caressed over her mind and her reasoning was lost. It bled through her vision and turned the moon scarlet in her sights. It fueled her muscles and her hand snapped about Elizabeth's wrist quicker than thought.
“We've got a problem, Lisa.” Andy used the nickname Doctor Michaels had earlier. “Two, actually.” She squeezed, and felt the pressure leave her neck as Elizabeth backed away, wary. “The first? You're a terrible hostess. A good hostess doesn't kill her guest.” When Elizabeth was no longer touching her, Andy got back to her feet. “The second? I'm nobody's plaything.” She shoved Elizabeth back. The air grew thick with power about her. “Oh, and there's a third bit.”
“What would that be?” Elizabeth's voice was laced with worry. When Andy inhaled, a sweet scent, that only registered as 'fear' somewhere in her mind, blew on the wind.
“You should have killed me when you had the chance.” The last words carried off into a snarl as Andy fell to all fours, her paws easily holding traction on the drive. She tested her claws, working them into the gravel, and bent into a luxurious stretch. The night was alive to her now, blazing as if it was high noon. Elizabeth's color was washed out, but the shock was evident. Elizabeth backpedaled, her image turning hazy. Andy pounced.