Title: Amor Fati
(What's it mean? I have no idea. Loved the name from an episode of the
X-Files, and I had been told that it meant "Love of Fate". Then, I heard it didn't. Now, I haven't a clue. "Love of Fate" fits the story.)
Rated PG-13 for "off-camera" sex and some adult
Disclaimers: I have never engaged in ownership or money
making of these characters in any form.
I simply use them for my own amusement and then return them to their
rightful owners unharmed.
used huge chunks of dialogue from the four episodes that make up
"Conspiracy of Blood". I sometimes put them in a different
mouth--especially Diego's and Gilberto's dialogue--than the original writers, Robert
L. McCullough and Phillip John Taylor, but the words are theirs. I am not
trying to claim them. Hopefully, I was faithful in copying them. If not, I
Author's Notes: Some
friends of mine invited me to take part in their round robin. I did, and I wrote one line that stayed with
me and became this story. It took some
work; I had to rewrite the entire series in my head.
yes, I do know the names would have been different, but that would have
overtaxed my already taxed out brain.
The readers', too, or so I believe.
last note: This is an extensive rewrite
of the last four episodes of the show.
If anyone would like a written summary of that show as it happened--available
to buy on videotape--please email me. I
would be glad to send it.
The people of Los Angeles whispered among themselves that
the alcalde's anxiety was driving
them loco. He almost twitched because of his nervousness. The slightest misstep by one of his lancers
received a crushing sit down. Victoria
told everyone at the tavern that she felt sorry for poor Mendoza, the usual
recipient of DeSoto's outbursts. Royal
Emissary Resendo's arrival in the morning--and quick departure--would bring
relief to all of the citizens and lancers of the pueblo, but especially for Mendoza.
"I want," the alcalde
snapped as he dusted a spotless bookcase. "All of the lancers to be ready
for inspection by five o'clock."
"Five? In the morning?" Mendoza squeaked. His voice always squealed when he was
surprised or nervous. The glare he
received from the alcalde, the one
causing him to stand up straighter, answered him. Pulling down on his jacket, Mendoza proudly proclaimed, "Sí, Mi
Alcalde, the lancers will be
"Good," DeSoto replied. Slowly turning, he looked over his office with a critical
eye. As usual, everything was in its
proper place. DeSoto's office was his
refuge from the horrors of life in this godforsaken pueblo. Even Zorro never
dared to enter it. "I want
everything to be perfect."
"Relax, Ignacio," came an amused voice from the
doorway. DeSoto turned, squinting into
the sunlight streaming through the door.
The dark shadow walked further into the room, closing the door behind
it. "From what I've seen, there
isn't a speck of dust in all of Los Angeles!
Why, even the streets are bare of it."
Laughing, DeSoto walked towards his friend. He noticed that Mendoza looked at Don
Alejandro's son as he pulled at his collar apprehensively. It amused the alcalde to no end that Mendoza always managed to pale at the mere
sight of the de la Vega heir.
Personally, he felt that his friendship with de la Vega was the one
bright spot of this otherwise dismal assignment. Even while the man standing in front of him had been an
underclassman--a mere freshman--he had impressed DeSoto, a senior. The two men formed a tight bond in Madrid,
and the renewal of that friendship made DeSoto's assignment to Los Angles
almost worth it.
Sitting down behind his desk, DeSoto waved for Mendoza to
leave and for his friend to sit.
"Would you care for something to drink or smoke, amigo?"
"Yes, I believe I would like one of your fine
cigars," replied de la Vega.
DeSoto smiled as his friend lit the excellent tobacco. The de la Vega heir was known for his
refined taste in cigars and wine, as well as women.
"Tell me," said his friend pleasantly, leaning
back in his chair to blow smoke rings into the air. "What's the emissary like?"
"Well," DeSoto began, his voice a little higher
and shakier than normal. "I've
never met Emissary Resendo, but I've heard of him. He's an amazing soldier, very trusted by the King. It's said that if the King wants a job done
right, he sends Resendo."
De la Vega laughed.
"Ah, so now I understand the reason for your apprehension. Why is such an important man coming to our
little hole in the wall?"
Suddenly, the door slung open. "Why, I'm here to collect taxes, of course. I'm sure the King told you about it, Alcalde DeSoto, in his
DeSoto stood, staring at the man standing proudly in the
doorway. He was tall--well over six
feet--and handsome. There was a small
scare on his temple, but instead of detracting, it added to his beauty. He was also in perfect physical health, if a
person could tell by appearances alone.
He looked as if he could easily run circles around all of the lancers
under DeSoto's command.
Beginning to smile and hold out his hand, DeSoto finally
noticed the man's eyes. They were an
ice blue--so cold that they could freeze a man in a single moment. Despite the above-normal temperatures,
DeSoto found himself shivering under the emissary's gaze. Diego Resendo had arrived a full day early,
and DeSoto knew in his bones that life was never again going to be the same in