#and they are faced with the impossible choice of fessing up to having ripped the plot from a bad klance fic | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

leossmoonn · 3 years

Text

Big Bad and Little Wolf

masterlist

pairing - klaus mikaelson x fem,wolf!reader

type - fluff, angst

note / request - “Hey can you do a klaus x reader where she’s basically the wolf who’s pregnant with hope, basically Hayleys story but she does fall for klaus after hating him” alright so i don’t know too much about haley’s story, so i had to do some research. the beginning takes place in the first ep of ‘originals’ then the rest i made up cause i didn’t wanna have to rewatch the first season lol i hope i got it right. enjoy!

summary - after getting pregnant with the infamous hybrid, you find you have some feelings for him.

warnings / includes - language, mentions of sex, fighting, mentions of abortion (for anyone who isn't comfortable with that), and klaus being hot but a jackass at the same time :)

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*gif isn’t mine*

“No, it’s impossible,” Klaus said, clenching his jaw.

“I said the same thing myself,” Elijah said.

Klaus glared and pointed at you, Elijah, and Sophie. “This is a lie. You’re all lying. Vampires cannot procreate.”

“But werewolves can,” Sophie said. “Magic made you a vampire, but you were born a werewolf.”

Klaus turned to face Sophie, not wanting to believe what she was saying.

“You’re the original hybrid, the first of your kind, and this pregnancy is one of nature’s loopholes.”

Klaus shook his head and went to lunge at you. “You’ve been with someone else. Admit it!”

Elijah caught his brother from ripping your throat out. You looked at him, hateful and regretful tears welling up in your eyes.

“Hey, I've spent my days held captive in a freaking alligator bayou because they think that I’m carrying some magical, miracle baby,” you said, balling your hands in fists. “Don’t you think I would’ve fessed up if it wasn’t yours?”

“My sister gave her life to perform the spell,” Sophie added. “She needed to confirm this pregnancy. Because of Jane-Anne’s sacrifice, the lives of this girls and her baby are now controlled by us. We can keep them safe, or we can kill them. If you don’t help us take down Marcel, so help me, Y/n won't live long enough to see her first maternity dress.”

The three of you looked at Sophie incredulously.

“Wait, what?” You asked.

“Enough of this. If you want Marcel dead, he's dead. I’ll do it myself,” Elijah said.

“No,” Sophie shook her head. “We can't, not yet. We have a clear plan that we need to follow, and there are rules.”

Klaus gritted his teeth. “How dare you command me. Threaten me with what you wrongfully perceive to be my weaknesses! This is a pathetic deception. I won’t hear any more lies.”

“Niklaus,” Elijah stopped is brother. “Listen.”

Klaus turned to you, looking at your stomach. He began to hear the baby’s heartbeat. You put your hand over your stomach protectively. Klaus couldn’t believe his ears. It was real, the baby you were carrying was real. He didn’t know how to feel, but he knew he wasn’t going to give in.

“Kill her and the baby,” Klaus said, turning to Elijah. “What do I care?”

Elijah glared at his brother. Klaus walked off, not caring to give you a second glance.

“Screw you, Klaus!” You yelled out, followed by a choked sob. “I’m out of here.” You started to walk away, but one of Sophie’s friends blocked the entrance. You looked at Elijah for help. He turned to Sophie.

“No one touches the girl. I will fix this,” Elijah said.

Sophie let the two of you go. You walked out of the alley, tears streaming down your face. Elijah took your arm gently, having you face him.

“I will talk to him, Y/n,” Elijah said.

“What’s the use?” You sniffled. “He wants nothing to do with this baby. He’s a selfish, heartless monster.”

“Y/n, let me try and make him see what this baby brings to the table. I assure you, everything will be okay,” Elijah said. “I give you my word.” You looked into Elijah’s eyes and nodded. “Alright. Thank you.”

Elijah nodded and left to talk to Klaus. You went back to the byou, knowing that the witches were waiting for you.

The next day wasn’t any easier. It didn’t seem like Elijah got through to Klaus at all. You couldn’t help curse at yourself for putting yourself in this position. Why did you sleep with him? And secondly, why didn’t you use a condom?

You shook your head at your thoughts, walking through the French Quarter to where the Mikaelson’s lived. You were going to find Rebekah and try to see if she could talk to Klaus.

You knocked on the door, frowning when you saw Klaus.

“Hello, Little Wolf. What can I do for you?” Klaus grinned.

“Is Rebakah here?” You asked.

“Yes, she is,” Klaus said.

“Great. I need to talk to her,” you said, trying to go into the house, but you ran into Klaus.

You huffed in frustration, looking into his dark-blue eyes.

If we were to have this baby, at least it would have his pretty eyes, you thought.

“Not so fast, Y/n. Have you know, Rebakah already tried to talk to me about not killing you or the baby, but sadly, it didn’t work,” Klaus said.

You scoffed, “Are you really this heartless? I don’t care about you killing me, but a baby? Oh wait, no, I get it. You’re scared that we’re gonna be shit parents like your parents. I get it now.”

You knew you had peicered his heart, becuase he took ahold of your neck and used his vamp speed to take you in the house and slam you against the wall. You groaned in pain, trying to pry yourself from his grip.

“Do not speak to me like that!” Klaus shouted. “You think you can sway me with your little findings? You think I want to be a parent, Y/n? No, I want nothing to do with the horrendous thing growing inside of you,” Klaus growled.

You gasped for air, your hands on is hand, trying to get him to let go.

“Niklaus!”

Klaus and you saw Elijah behind him, a disappointed look on his face.

“Let go of the girl. Now,” Elijah commanded.

Klaus looked back at you, crazy shining in his eyes. He let you go roughly. You fell to the floor, holding your neck and coughing.

“You do not treat a woman who is barring a child like that, Niklaus. Mother would be so disappointed in you,” Elijah said.

Klaus growled, “Do not talk to me about Mother!”

“Fine,” Elijah said. He walked over to you, helping you up. “I will talk to you about this baby, though. If you do not wish to comply with the witches and keep the baby safe, then you shall be killed. If you do comply, you could welcome your first child into the world, Niklaus. I know you felt something when you heard the heartbeat, so think seriously about your decision to leave or care for the girl and the baby.”

Klaus looked between you two. His brother was right. When he heard the baby’s heartbeat, tears of joy had sprung in his eyes. And the thought of you carrying his baby filled his heart with a little love and pride. He knew that if he did comply, then everything would change. He would change. Was he able and willing to do that?

“Let me think about it,” Klaus said.

“Alright. Have your answer by tomorrow morning. Say sorry to Y/n,” Elijah said.

Klaus looked into your eyes, seeing tears fall out of them. It pained his heart to see you cry more than he’d like to admit.

“I’m sorry, Y/n,” he said.

You gave Klaus a forgiving, kind smile, knowing he meant it. “Thank you.” You then turned to Elijah.

“Can I stay here tonight? I hate the byou.”

“Of course. We have plenty of rooms. Do you want dinner?” Elijah asked.

“Sure,” you nodded.

Elijah smiled at you, then looked to Klaus. “Klaus go and cook something for Y/n, hm?”

“Fine,” Klaus rolled his eyes. He went to the kitchen to get to work.

“He acts like he’s 5. Oh, my God,” you chuckled.

“Yes, he’s immature, but if he makes the right choice like I know he will, he will be a great father,” Elijah said.

“How do you know that he will make the right choice?” You asked.

“Well, Klaus loves family. He loves the idea of a perfect family. We never had that as children. I know he would love to have a family of his own more than anything, but his fear of taking care of a child blocks him from admitting,” Elijah explained.

“And his pride. He’s too afraid to become soft,” you snorted.

Elijah chuckled, “Yes, you are right.”

You smiled at Elijah. “Thank you for saving me, again.”

“Of course, Y/n. This baby is going to my neice or nephew. It’s already part of the family, as are you. Now, I should be going. I have some business to attend to,” he said.

“Alright. See you again,” you waved.

Elijah gave you a warm smile and left the house. You sighed and seated yourself in the living room. You hoped to the moon Elijah was right.

The next morning you woke up to the smell of eggs and bacon. You did a big stretch before finding yourself needing to puke You rushed to the bathroom, falling to your knees. While throwing up, you felt the hair around your face lift up. You finished having your morning sickness and took a sheet of toilet paper and wiped your mouth. You flushed the toilet, looking back to see Klaus with a cheerful smile on his face, his hand holding up your hair.

“Oh, it’s you,” you said, standing up. You went over to the sink to wash your face and hands.

“I thought you’d be happy to see me,” Klaus said. “I helped your hair not fall into the toilet.”

You chuckled, “Right. Yeah, thanks.”

You started to brush your teeth, Klaus standing there, watching you. You furrowed your brows and spit out the toothpaste.

“Go away,” you said.

“No, I wanted to talk about the baby,” Klaus said.

You turned around, leaning on the sink counter. “Does this mean you have agreed to help me take care of the baby, and not put me in a chokehold anymore?”

Klaus chuckled and moved closer to you. “Yes, but on one condition.”

You rolled your eyes. “No, I don’t want to hear it. The baby and I are hungry, I’m going downstairs.” You moved past him, but only got out of the bathroom before being pulled back.

“You’ll want to listen to me, Little Wolf. It will make it easier for us,” Klaus said, pulling you so barley had any space between you two.

Your heartbeat spiked up, not feeling totally comfortable with how close you two were.

“Let me go, Klaus,” you said through a clenched jaw.

“One moment. I will protect you and the baby and do what the witches want, if you agree to do stay out of my way and do whatever I command you to.”

You scoffed, “No! I’m not gonna be one of your victims. I’m carrying your baby, Klaus. You have no right to control me.”

Klaus rolled his eyes. “Fine. Just promise to stay out of my way then?”

“Fine,” you sighed.

Klaus put his hand up to your cheek, brushing a peice of hair out of the way. You looked up into his eyes, feeling a gravitational pull between you and him. Your eyes flickered down to his lips and back to his eyes. Klaus smirked, cupping your cheek.

“Falling, are we?” Klaus remarked.

You puled away, the moment ruined and the feelings you were feeling disappearing slowly.

“You wish,” you said before walking off.

Klaus looked at your retreating figure, feeling a little regretful that he had spoken. If he hadn’t, maybe you two would have kissed.

He shook his head of the romantic feelings he was feeling. He wasn’t supposed to fall in love with you. You were just a little bump in the road in his plan to ruling New Orleans. And this baby you two had, like the witches said, is the miracle baby that would change the supernatural world forever.

He walked down to find you eating some strawberries, smiling and talking to Elijah. Even though he pushed his feelings for you away, he couldn’t deny you were gorgeous, even when just after waking up.

“Ah, good morning, Klaus. Y/n has told me that you have chosen to protect her and the baby. I’m glad you made the right choice,” Elijah said.

“Yes, well, I’m not completely heartless,” Klaus said and sat down at the island table next to you.

“Could’ve fooled me,” you smirked.

“Ha-ha, very funny,” Klaus rolled his eyes, throwing a blueberry at you.

You giggled, chucking a strawberry at him. Klaus smiled at you, catching the strawberry and eating it. You couldn’t help but smile at this. You never had ever seen him like this. He looked joyful and carefree. It was nice to see him like this. You hoped he continued to be like this before and definitely after your pregnancy.

“Hello, love birds!” Rebekah announced.

You looked to the blonde and smiled. “Hey!”

“How is my sister-in-law-to-be?” Rebekah smiled.

“Good since your brother hasn’t been an ass for the last 5 minutes,” you said.

“Wow. Now, that is unheard of. Interesting,” Rebekah smiled.

“You two are friends? I thought you two hated each other?” Klaus asked.

“Well, she’s carrying my neice or nephew. It’s different now,” Rebekah explained.

“Yep. Apparently having your child gets me friends,” you chuckled.

Rebekah smiled. “Well, plus, she is a great person once you get to know her. And she’s the only girl who lives here now. I’m sick of being in the boy’s club.”

“Aw, thanks, Bex. You’re a great person, too,” you smiled.

Rebekah came over and took a strawberry from the bowl in front of you. “I have to go.”

You frowned, “Oh, why? Don’t leave me with them.”

“Ah, Y/n,” Elijah smiled. “I have been nothing but nice to you.”

You smiled at him. “True, but I want some girl time.”

“We will get that time soon, promise. I have to go and meet Marcel,” Rebekah said.

“No,” Klaus said, standing up.

You glared at Klaus. “Let her go. She could use some time with someone who is romantically interested in her.”

“I said no. You will not do anything with Marcel as long as you are living with me,” Klaus commanded.

“Oh, please, Niklaus. I’m a grown woman, I don't listen to you anymore. Ta-ta,” Rebekah waved at you and left the house.

“Jesus Christ,” Klaus muttered. “I’m going to kill-”

“Klaus!” You exclaimed. “Come with me to shop for maternity clothes, yeah?”

Klaus turned to you, “Why would I want to do that?”

You frowned, “Because it’s good for a mother and father to bond, even when they hate each other. We can go and buy you some new shirts, too.”

“I don’t need to buy anything for myself,” Klaus said.

“Yeah, you do. You wear the same 3 colors. You need to put in some pink in your wardrobe,” you said.

“Y/n is right. Go and spend time with, as the millennials say, your baby mama,” Elijah smiled.

Klaus rolled your eyes. “You two are impossible, but fine! Let’s go and get this over with.”

You got up and clapped your hands in excitement. You put on sneakers and grabbed a jacket before going outside. Klaus followed you out to the shops. “I have a question,” you said.

“Yes?” Klaus asked.

“Since you can compel people, do you ever use actual money to buy clothes or compel yourself clothes?” You asked.

“Sometimes I buy, sometimes I compel,” he shrugged.

“Where do you get the money to buy?” You asked.

“I’ve been alive for 1,000 years, I have had jobs before,” Klaus explained.

“Ah, right. Makes sense,” you nodded.

You two walked the rest of the way in silence. You two went into a clothing store and went to the maternity section.

“You aren’t even showing yet, why do we need to buy now?” Klaus asked.

“It’s just a fun thing I’ve heard mothers do. Plus, I assume with time, life will be a lot more complicated, and I won’t have time to do these things,” you explained.

“Hm, interesting,” Klaus said.

You sighed quietly, looking at a few shirts for 3 months. Klaus followed behind you, observing you. He would never admit, but he enjoyed spending time with you. He did find you a little annoying and a bit of a distraction, but the fact that you were fun to be around and made him feel like he could let go was what made him all the more willing to comply with Elijah and the witches. You carrying his baby also helped, too.

“Why are you staring at me?” You asked.

Klaus shrugged, “I have nothing better to do.”

You hummed, “Right.”

You two shopped in silence for about an hour, then going to a nearby restaurant for a snack. Spending time with him wasn’t as bad as you thought. He was more quiet and a lot less whiney than he had shown in the past. He just let you do whatever you want, whatever was safe, of course. He actually was kind to you in the hour. He laughed at your jokes, answered whatever questions you had, and took an effort to ask questions he had to get to know you.

Maybe he wasn’t so bad, you thought.

You two went back home, a bunch of shopping bags in your hands. You put them in the living room, yawning and stretching.

“I’m going to take a nap,” you said.

“Alright, sleep well,” Klaus said.

You gave him a small smile and nodded. You went up the stairs, Klaus watching your retreating figure.

“See how easy it is to be nice?” Elijah’s voice came from the kitchen.

Klaus glared at his older brother. “I’m not doing it for you or her.”

“I never said you were, but now you have made me suspicious. It seems like you like her, Niklaus,” Elijah smiled.

“I don’t like her. Not romantically, anyways,” Klaus said.

“Are you sure? Why did you sleep with her, then?” Elijah asked.

“I don’t know. It was just a one night stand that ended up turning into something more. Why do you care, Elijah?” Klaus asked.

“I see the way you look at her, Niklaus. There is no shame in admitting your feelings,” Elijah said.

Klaus rolled his eyes. “Whatever, Elijah. I have to go.”

Elijah smirked, “Alright. See you later, brother.”

“See you,” Klaus said before going back out.

Over the course of the next few months, you and Klaus had gotten closer and became more friendly towards each other. You had learned that he had a passion for painting and reading. You learned that he wished that he had the perfect family and he hoped that one day, his family could reunite and be together once again. He knew how to cook and actually a good man, but because of his chaotic and violent childhood, he became the bad guy. He seeks validation and honesty in others, wanting to be loved and have friendships that lasted a lifetime.

Klaus had learned that you were adopted and thrown out all by the same family. You didn’t know who your real parents were, and you craved that information and have been searching for it since you first turned. He had learned that you had a passion for baking and helping others. That you were strong, confident, and weren’t afraid to protect your loved ones. He thought it was admirable the way you handled stress and betrayal, wishing he learned your patience.

Learning about each other more had made you two fall in love with each other, but that was unbeknownst to you two. You both didn’t even realise your own feelings. You personally knew that you liked being in Klaus’s presence. You felt safe and protected, accepted and even loved. He made you feel alive and the fact that he showed interest in you and the baby helped you like him more.

For Klaus, he enjoyed your presence, too. You always knew how to make him laugh. You made him feel different. Like he could be himself and forget who're or rather, what he was. It was freeing being with you, and he loved it. He was even looking forward more and more to the baby you and him had concieved. In his mind, you two were the family he always wanted and pictured.

Even though you two didn’t notice your infatuation with each other, everyone else sure did. Rebekah and Elijah decided to make a plan on getting you two together. Every chance they could, they would tease you two, make it so you tripped into him, left you two alone together, etc.

Like now, Rebekah had placed a golf ball on the floor and you had slipped. Klaus had rushed over to you and caught you in bridal style, immediately looking at your stomach for any signs of injury to the baby and you. He then looked to Rebekah and Elijah who are smiling.

“What are you two so happy about? Y/n could have hurt herself,” Klaus said.

“Oh, she’s fine. She and the baby would’ve healed,” Rebekah said.

“No, seriously, guys. Stop leaving shit on the floor, okay?” You asked.

Rebekah nodded, “Alright, alright. Sorry.”

Klaus let you go, his hands lingering against the small of your back. You weren't sure if it was the baby or his touch, but your stomach flipped. You leaned into him a little, wanting to be close to him for as long as you could. He was unbelievable warm, which was nice for you and the baby.

Elijah and Rebekah noticed your body language and smirked at each other. It was a wonder how you two didn’t notice each other’s love and care for each other. The both decided it was time for the two to have a talk with each of them, to try and push them to get together farther.

“Klaus, I need to see you for a second,” Elijah said.

Klaus moved away from you, leaving you cold and a little lonely. Klaus smiled goodbye at you before going in the next room with Elijah. Rebekah went up to you, a cheeky grin on her face.

“What are you and Elijah up to?” You asked.

“Nothing, nothing. I just wanted to talk to you about Klaus,” Rebekah said.

“Okay. What about him?” You asked.

“You’re in love with him, right?” Rebekah asked.

Your eyes went wide and your face flushed. “Wha-What?”

Rebekah smirked, “So you do. Why haven’t you done anything about it?”

You shrugged, “I don’t know. He only sees me as the mother of his child, another person to call a friend. We are no where near romance right now.”

“You’d be surprised to hear that you’re wrong,” Rebekah said.

You furrowed your brows. “What do you mean?”

“He's in love with you, too, Y/n,” Rebekah said.

“He’s not,” you scoffed.

“Yes, he is. Do you not see the way he looks at you? The way he cares for you and the baby? How every time you come into the room, a smile is immediately on his face and his aura is brighter?” Rebekah listed off examples.

The longer she went on, the more your face got red. “Ye-Yeah, I guess. You think he’s really in love with me?” You asked, hope shining in your eyes.

“Yes. Confront him. If I’m wrong, I owe you a lifetime of favours, okay? But if I’m right, I get a say in your baby’s name,” Rebekah grinned.

You rolled your eyes with a smile. “Fine. Deal. I’ll confront him tonight after dinner.”

“Great! Well, looks like my work is done. I better see you two trying for another baby after dinner,” Rebekah smirked and winked at you.

“Bex!” You exclaimed with a laugh before she went upstairs.

A few moments later, Klaus came back from the living room.

“So, what did Elijah want with you?” You asked.

“Oh, just to talk about what we are going to do with Sophie, that’s all. How about you and Rebekah?” Klaus asked.

“Just stuff about the baby,” you answered.

“Fun. Well, ready for dinner?” Klaus asked.

You nodded and sat down at the kitchen table, watching Klaus cook for you. You watched him in silence. You also ate dinner in silence. You two had a feeling that whatever Klaus’s siblings talked to you two about was the same thing, but you two were just too shy to say anything. But as Klaus walked you up the stairs to bed, you had stopped to ask him the burning question you had in your brain all night.

“Are you… are you in love with me?” You asked him, looking him straight in the eyes.

Klaus’s eyes widened in surprise. He coughed and averted your gaze. “Maybe.”

Your lips upturned into a small smile. “I’m in love with you, too, Nik.”

Klaus looked up to you, a smile appearing on his face. “Really?”

You nodded and bit your lip. “Yeah.”

Klaus leaned towards you, snaking his arm around your waist, pulling you closer. His other hand went up to your cheek, cupping it. You nuzzled into his hand, your own hands going to cup the sides of his face. You looked deep into his dark-blue eyes, getting lost in them. You two found yourselves leaning into each other, your lips eventually meeting.

Your eyes closed in an instant, pressing yourself up against him more. Klaus’s hold on your waist tightened and he deepened the kiss by dragging his tongue on your bottom lip. You opened your mouth quickly, giving him easy access to explore your mouth.

You two felt sparks fly around you two, both of your guys’s skin lighting on fire from each other's touch. Even though you two had kissed before, this time was more special. Almost monumental.

While you two were sharing your special moment, Elijah and Rebekah were watching with proud smiles on their faces.

“Such a wonderful couple,” Rebekah sighed.

“Yes. The big bad and little wolf,” Elijah smiled.

————

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#klaus mikaelson #klaus mikaelson imagine #klaus mikaelson x reader #klaus mikaelson x reader fluff #klaus mikaelson fluff #tvd #the vampire diaries #the originals #mikaelsons #fluff #angst #klaus mikaelson angst

584 notes · View notes

tartagilicious · 4 years

Text

spoken love > gavin, mlqc

→ Pairing | gavin x reader

→ Genre | angst w happy ending

→ Word Count | 9555

→ Warnings | tw; kidnapping and mild torture, + general heartbreak/feeling like you’re not good enough + the fluff at the end might give you cavities

→ Songs | orbit by hwasa and stefan’s theme by michael suby

→ Note | this plot took all of my brain cells to put together rip but at least I’ll be able to start working on requests again :) and yes, I love harassing victor in these for some reason. the poor boy deserves to be the one to win mc’s love 😔

@n3verending16

Flowers don’t bloom in the dark. Biologically, it’s impossible, but there are other factors that weigh in — things that stunt its growth just as greatly. It’s quite an open ended question, but this time, perhaps simply, the flower just felt as if growing any more was useless without her sun there to see it.

Call it a personal bias, but you think that must be it. Because as Gavin utters the very words you dread to hear, you feel as hopeless as a flower cut off from the sun.

“___,” he sighs. And it’s pained — too pained for someone who has just single-handedly snapped your heart in two. “I’m sorry. But it wasn’t something I could keep from you forever.”

I don’t love you anymore.

The words echo in your head so forcefully that you barely register Gavin’s voice. His apology only goes in one ear and out the other, much to both of your dismays.

“...I don’t understand.” Your voice is flat, but you know it’s only a matter of time and how particularly strong you’re feeling today until that breaks. “Why all of the sudden...?”

Gavin bites his bottom lip, as if holding back something before he only fesses up a shrug in response.

“I’m sorry.”

He sounds sorry, but you know from the bottom of your heart that there’s something underneath it. Gavin, a boy you’ve known since high school, who would always keep an eye out for you, who always picks you up and flies you home, who is always the first person to be there for anything -- is someone you know just as well as you know yourself.

“I don’t want to hear that. Can’t you tell me what’s wrong?”

Your voice raises slightly with irritation, but in lieu of your unclear communication Gavin only stands and takes it. Like he should, you think, but you know that you don’t want to yell at him. He doesn’t deserve that — he never will.

“I really am sorry.”

You‘re at a loss for words as he shifts past you and silently lets himself out of your apartment.

Stay safe.

You frown as you whip around to the closed door, recalling the words he’d whispered to you when walking out. They fill you with a hopeless sense of dread and irritation that you can’t possibly manage to keep at bay for long.

And your frustrations do quickly surface — in the form of hopeless tears, with soundless sobs sneaking out of your throat that have you crippling to the floor.

That was almost 3 months ago.

By now, you’re not over it. You’re not over it in the least, and you’ve never lied to yourself or anyone else about that. That doesn’t mean it’s any less harder, but denial is simply just another fruit that you’re not willing to pick in the end.

Because there are already plenty of other nights that fill in the absent spots that denial leaves. Times where you’re too empty to eat, when you’re too lonely to sleep, and plenty and plenty of nights where your sadness tries to blame Gavin for your troubles — but, you can’t. The part of you that still believes something isn’t right just can’t bear to.

And so, you spend every moment of every sorrowful minute reminiscing, even if every single one of them is not your choice.

You don’t want your heart to drop into your stomach at the mention of his name. But it does. You don’t want to let a single person control your emotions like this, but you do. It’s meaningless to even claim that you want to feel this way, but it’s all too worth it to be the only one that knows you at least deserve better than your worst.

You want to get back to working at your best. You want to enjoy your favourite things again. All you want — all of it’s just out of reach for now. But, without him, without the reason that had torn you apart, you fear it’s impossible.

Yet, ironically, he was the one to teach you that nothing is impossible. He taught you that anything you chose to put your mind to, you could do, and now, you’ll be trying to use that very advice to piece everything back together.

Starting with him, of course.

There’s, of course, still that aspect that sticks out to you as wrong; something you haven’t been able to shake even after months of general, yet still mutual, silence on the subject. Whether it was the hesitance in his eyes or the sadness in his voice, you refuse to believe that it’s the end of the line. Especially considering Gavin’s own personality in regards to you -- it had always been in his best interest to keep you in the safest hands, even before you began to see each other as more than friends. So, it’s not as if you can completely rule out that possibility yet.

But, Gavin is like a lock. And sadly, it’s one that you lost the key to long ago.

Every time you encounter him, whether he flies you home, or helps you with a detail concerning something at work, he’s nothing but friendly and lithe in the ways he interacts with you. There’s little evidence of the hesitation you could’ve sworn that you saw that night, and it discourages a certain part of you greatly.

Still, you don’t want to give up. You feel like doing that would be like casting it to the side -- or more accurately, labelling the situation as plainly unimportant. And no matter what, that isn’t true. You want answers more than anything; concrete ones that won’t leave you with a bad taste in your mouth anymore. Answers that even if you didn’t like them, they settle your questions all the same.

Yet, you can’t help but feel pressured to.

Time after time he ignores the unsaid words floating in the air above you, and smiles without pain even when it’s obvious that you do.

maybe I was wrong?

You think hard to yourself one afternoon, right after Gavin had just dropped you off at home; unincidentally, of course. You can’t think of anything else, really, but the heartbreaking possibility that you’re concerned over nothing and Gavin really has just fallen out of love as he said haunts you more than anything else ever has.

That night spent alone is by far the worst.

But unbeknownst to you, a certain someone’s nights vary little.

Gavin feels tremendous regret. It’s a gnawing, aching feeling to know that while not only he lied to the love of his life, he is by no means closer to solving the problem that forced you apart. Three months have passed with only average progress on the particular case, and without you by his side, he can’t help but feel anxious every step of the way.

He feels time and time again the urge to tell you the truth, even if you choose not to accept it. And not just for himself -- but also for you. The way you’ve changed over time is terribly obvious to him if no one else.

But you aren’t a switch he can turn on and off at will -- your happiness is relative to only yourself. He just finds himself wishing that if not him, at least you could find the opportunity to live happily without him for now. He sees the way the emotions in your eyes rise and fall whenever he interacts with you. And though it gives him little insight into what goes on behind closed doors, it makes him feel bad all the same.

Because he knows it’s his fault, and wants nothing more than to get things over with so he can tell you the truth you deserve.

And finally, one day he realises that he might be closer than he thought.

“Gavin.”

He looks up to greet the man who’d just walked in, but thinks better of it when he sees his expression. This particular case had been handed to Eli first, as it fell more under his category than Gavin’s, but was extended out to him in lieu of progression.

That much alone told Gavin that this mission was unlike any he’d done before.

Usually, missions take mere days to complete -- up to about a week at most, but this one has been stretching on for months. It makes him anxious when he thinks about how long Eli had been at it before him, but all Gavin knows he can do nothing more than try his best to shorten it.

“What is it?”

“I think you should see this.”

A newspaper, dated to only a few weeks ago, is tossed on the table in front of him. It doesn’t really look to be anything special, with the headline only referencing business moguls and trivial local news rather than information they’re looking for. But, just as Gavin goes to open his mouth, he notices an article on the bottom of the page. It’s small, barely even noticeable, even, but the moment he reads the first words his eyes widen.

His eyes flicker up to meet Eli’s, who’s standing there with a small smile on his lips.

“Is this--?”

“Yep.” Eli nodded. ”Good thing I actually stopped to read it this morning, huh?”

Gavin’s lips curve up into a distracted smile, his attention returning to the newspaper and ultimately the little article about a missing persons case -- one of the very same they’ve been following. Listed under a few incidents is a woman’s name and information -- all average details such as height and weight that would inform anyone in the public of any specifics.

It’s nothing that they haven’t already uncovered, but there are certain details in the article itself that strike him as odd.

“Time and place of abduction.” Eli fills in the blanks before Gavin can even find the words to speak. “Whoever wrote this article somehow managed to get a hold of the cctv footage from that night and put it out to the public.”

“Spiteful of them to do that,” Gavin mumbles, his grip around the newspaper tightening and loosening with every absentminded flex of his hand. “Especially when we’ve been trying to get it for months.”

“I don’t know, but, let’s not jump to conclusions. Maybe they were just lucky.”

He turns to Eli with a dubious look on his face. “The footage is protected under the ownership of the residence, and not to mention, the permissions you need for it can take months. There’s no way they were just lucky.”

“Look, fine. I agree, okay? It shouldn’t have been possible, but here we are.” Eli shrugs, cutting the argument off even as there was more hanging in the air. “What if they just got special permission from the courts or something? Isn’t that possible?”

Gavin shakes his head. “No way. These processes take a while no matter the circumstances, remember?”

“Fine, then let’s find whoever put this article out and make them tell us how they got their hands on all this stuff.” Eli obviously can’t hold back a smile any more, patting Gavin on the shoulder a bit too lightheartedly for the other man’s taste. “Maybe we’ll be a little closer to finishing this all if we do.”

Finishing.

Gavin turns the word over in his head what feels like a hundred times, but no matter how he looks at it, it’s good -- really good.

He stands up and ceremoniously returns his partner’s smile. “Okay, then let’s do it.”

But, before they even have time to breathe, a new setback finds its way into their plan

“Wait.” Gavin does a double take when, hours later, Eli finally announces the company responsible for the article.”That can’t be right, it’s--”

Eli interjects with a sigh. “___’s company. I know.”

“It’s a production company, though. They don’t do articles and stuff, do they?”

“It’s not uncommon for companies like that to have different departments or whatever.” Eli shrugs. “And the article in question would check out, I guess, considering how close they are to the street with the cctv we’re trying to get.”

“But last time I talked to her, she wasn’t doing anything like that…”

“When was the last time you talked to her, then? Maybe it’s just a recent change or something.”

Eli asks the question nonchalantly, but is really none the wiser about Gavin’s situation than he was when everything began months ago. And so, the words do nothing remind Gavin of memories and mistakes, sending an involuntary strike of pain through his chest.

When was the last time I talked to her?

Not long ago, he thinks. Not long ago at all. He remembers distinctly all of the times he had encountered you on the street, or the times he’d flown you home after a carefully acted day out.

But when was the last time he’d really talked to you? Held a normal conversation?

He finds himself squeezing the hem of his shirt, so hard that his knuckles begin to fade into a sickly white. It’s like a punch in the face to realise something so late, but he can’t help but consider it a bit of a blessing to even recognise it in the first place.

“You know, this makes it easier if it’s just ___.” Eli interrupts Gavin’s downspiralling thoughts, resting his chin on his hand as he says, “We can just ask her about it face to face, then we don’t have to bother with the paperwork for requesting an official interview.”

And around an hour later, that’s how Gavin ends up in front of your company’s doors, cursing Eli and his cluelessness.

He swallows the ball of nerves in his throat and fidgets with his hands for a moment, but he knows that he can’t stay there forever. Everyone around him moves unabridged and casually, whether it be while talking on bluetooth or out on a late afternoon jog. He may not be the only one around that’s stuck in the past, but he sure is the only one taking time to dwell on it.

He uses that much to prompt himself inside.

The inside of the building is just as he remembers it to be, if not the same as it was months ago. It’s the little things he notices, like the familiar fake plants sitting in the corner of the waiting room, or the painting hanging on the wall that you’d mentioned was a gift from your dad a few times.

He’s relieved at least one thing is still familiar.

“Hey stranger. How can I help you?"

Gavin instinctively turns towards the voice, his eyes momentarily widening when he sees who sits behind the reception desk.

"Anna? What are you doing up here?” He gives your friend a polite smile as he makes his way over to where she sits. “Where’s the receptionist?”

She sighs, shaking her head. “He quit a few days ago, so your girlfriend put me up here on duty.”

Gavin pulls his lips into a thin line, trying to hold back his surprise. She didn’t tell them?

“Um, anyway, speaking of ___, where is she right now? I need to talk to her." He changes the subject as quickly as he can manage, and thankfully, Anna doesn’t seem to notice that was the intent.

“Right now? Should be up in her office finishing paperwork.”

“Okay, great. …Do I need a pass or anything?” He asks this, but regrets the words as soon as they leave his mouth. They're suspicious, of course, and it’s a dumb question regardless.

Anna gives him a deservedly strange look.

“Um, no, of course not.” She tries to ease the suddenly tense atmosphere with a laugh. “Just go. I’m sure she’ll be happy to see you.”

“Right,” He laughs nervously and briefly giving his thanks, steadily walking towards the direction of the elevator. When he steps inside, though, he lets out a long sigh. The previous awkward interaction left an embarrassed sting in his chest, and the familiar oncoming heartache of seeing you again will no doubt only add to it.

So, he spends the entire minute of the ride downright terrified.

It’s not like everything is magically resolved when your door opens either, though. The moment he hears your voice acknowledge his presence from inside the office, it’s appropriate to say that his heartbeat doubles -- or even triples, in just seconds.

But contrary to what he expects, your eyes still light up upon registering his face. He doesn’t understand why you’re happy to see him, but he welcomes it regardless.

“Gavin! It’s nice to see you.” You give him a friendly smile, but the all-too familiar feeling of anxiousness still lingers in your expression.

Startled, he just smiles back as he says, “Yeah, likewise. How are things here at the office lately?”

“Ah,” You sigh out a laugh. “They’re fine, but I’m sure you’ve already heard from Anna that our receptionist just quit. It won’t be hard to find a replacement, but it still kind of sucks since he was responsible for coffee runs.”

Gavin winces novelly, playing into your slightly joking tone. “That does suck. Who’s been going instead, then?”

“Minor offered, thank god.” You smile, a sliver of joy finally peaking through your tired eyes.

“That’s good.” He nods, slightly relieved at the sight. “I wanted to ask you, though, I saw an article in the paper that said it came from your company. Since when have you thought to put articles in the paper? I never heard anything about it from you, so--”

You interject, “Articles? We don’t write articles. That’s not the type of company we are.”

He blinks.

“Your company, though--” Gavin fishes his phone out of his jacket, where he pulls up the article in question. “This traces back here.”

Your brows furrow as you lean forward to read the screen in his hand, unaware of the way his face begins to heat up when noticing your concentration. On the other hand, he’s very painfully aware of how your brows twitch as you read it over, and even more so to the way your lips twist in apt concern.

Gavin spits out an explanation in place of the straining silence, and you nod along, though you take in every word at half its worth due to your own racing heart.

“We have basically no contact with the owners of that building, so we wouldn’t be able to get the footage either even if we wanted to.” You explain steadily, hiding your nerves in the squeeze of your knuckles beneath the table. “I don’t remember giving anyone permission to even write something like that, anyway.”

“Would someone else have given permission, then? Or, alternatively, do you think someone put it there for any other reason?”

“I can’t think of another reason, but there are definitely other people in the building who can give permission to employees, of course. “ You push a laugh. “I’m not the one sole source.”

“Anna can do almost everything I can, so maybe she did. Try her next.”

With that, the conversation trickles off weakly. It’s unbearable to do so, but Gavin leaves the room with a clambering heart. He has no doubt that things ought to be difficult if this is what he’ll be returning to, but still saves face for the chance that everything will turn out okay.

And around an hour later, he exits the building carrying all the information he needs.

“Eli, the guy’s gone and quit.”

His partner looks up at him with locked brows when he returns to the STF. “Our article writer?”

Gavin purses his lips and goes silent in thought, but it’s all the answer Eli needs. Gavin’s chest is heavily wrought with regret and disappointment that spans over multiple reasons, but he merely shakes out his shoulders and takes a seat down next to the other man, concealing his face in the way he always has.

Eli only turns a blind eye to Gavin’s front.“I guess that’s just our luck, but it’s still okay right now. Did you get any details about him?”

“Yeah, I managed. I’m not completely sure they’re real, though.”

Gavin hands Eli the small slip of paper that Anna had scawled the man’s information on and explains as he reads it over.

“Anyone else probably wouldn’t get anything out of this,” Gavin says, referencing only the name and phone number of the man in question written on the paper. “But since we’re here, we can probably do something with it, at least.”

Eli nods along as he speaks, and upon skimming the information, a pleased smile curves at his lips. “At least? We’ll have to run them, but it seems viable enough to me -- maybe even enough that this can finally give us the info we need to close the case.”

He returns a smile at the thought.

“I hope it does.”

Gavin’s mind brings him back to a few hours prior, where he watches himself trip and stumble over himself around you through the pitiful eye of his own memory. It takes a lot of him not to frown outwardly at his mistakes, but little to gain the determination needed to fix it. What happened then, that’s not how it’s supposed to be, and he knows it.

The memories switch to happier times when his heart finds it in him -- the starry and clear night he finally kissed you on the ferris wheel, the buzzing warmth of your arms around his torso when he goes a strategically fast speed on on his motorcycle, and of course, the moments where all he can see is you smiling in front of him, looking just as delighted as you always have been.

It’s just out of his grasp, but Gavin finds himself hoping that it’s still in his reach.

Because, in his mind, nothing is truly unattainable. And that philosophy goes for everything, but is most virtuous when it becomes the bearer of good news.

“Everything about this guy checks out for now.” Eli says this from his spot at the database station days later, turning his head over his shoulder to where Gavin is checking the contents of his utility belt from across the room. “So, I’m not sure that much precaution is necessary, Gavin.”

The other doesn’t even look up at his remark.

“Better safe than sorry. You know that.”

Eli just laughs and nods, obviously in a good mood regardless of his partner’s hesitance. “Ok then, whatever you want.”

Gavin gives him a dubious look, but otherwise goes back to his business.

“It’s not like we have much to expect, anyway.”

But, whether or not you expect something doesn’t deter fate. It seemed easy enough at the time, anyway -- so there was no reason for Gavin to doubt their plan even as he walked up to the man’s presumed address.

He eases into the situation by knocking on the mahogany door softly, calling out with what Eli had long called his ‘business’ voice.

“Police! Is anyone home?”

Gavin notes a candle in the window out of his peripheral vision and instinctively furrows his brows. Whoever’s here, the perp or not, it’s clear that they’re at least not one step ahead of him.

So, with that in mind, he makes the split decision to try the door. And much to his surprise, it opens without a lick of trouble, even the hinges not making the slightest sound. He purses his lips slightly as he comes face to face with the dark entryway he was expecting, yet still chooses to silently draw his weapon before stepping into the building.

And the moment he locates a pair of eyes in the dark, he knows his decision to do so was correct.

He clicks his tongue with the shift of the safety lock, his expression instinctively hardening even though he’s sure that the person can see just as much as he can.

“Come out with your hands up!”

Gavin’s voice doesn’t waver, but neither does the faceless figure in the dark.

Multiple sets of footsteps echo throughout the entryway, but Gavin doesn’t let them make a show. His eyes stay locked on the same unblinking ones that had drawn him in, and cocks his gun as if in warning.

Maybe they actually are one step ahead.

“I’ll say it one last time -- and that goes to anyone in the room. Come out with your hands up.”

His voice is cold, and if it were ordinary people standing around him, perhaps they would have listened. But, the thugs surrounding him have little in common with the regular citizen, most startlingly obvious in the weapons they hide sheathed in their belts; daggers engraved by the agency they belong to:

BLACK SWAN COLLECTIVE

The last thing Gavin can recall is the sharp pain of someone thrusting the handle of one of the said weapons into the back of his head, immediately sending him into a darkness he tried so hard to avoid.

Maybe it’s futile, useless even, but as everything goes black, he can’t help but think of you.

“You aren’t seriously planning on wearing that, are you?”

You look back at the exasperated voice that interrupts your shoot preparation, the recording equipment in your hands shifting slightly with your deep sigh.

“Victor, it’ll be hot once we’re on set, I promise.” Sending him only a brief smile, you continue to wrap the cords up. It’s quiet long enough that you naturally assume he’s left, but a few minutes later, you feel a presence at your side taking the last microphone and starting to mimic the same process you’ve been at for what feels like hours.

Victor takes in a near silent breath as he places the microphone in its case, zipping it shut with such familiarity that it momentarily muddles your brain. It’s been almost two years since you’d met him for the second time, walking into his office only to meet his cold voice and fearsome business methods. You’re subconsciously glad that you’ve gone through so much together, albeit tough, because your relationship has moved far because of it all.

“...I’ll grab a jacket before we leave.” You look up and flash another smile at him, but this time, you try to make it seem like you mean it. He seems to notice your hesitance regardless, but the look in his eyes still lifts slightly as he nods wordlessly.

The location of the shoot itself isn’t very far-close enough that the transportation won’t be taxing-but the stakes are still high nonetheless. A reputable American fashion outlet had reached out to Anna around a month ago asking if your company would consider filming an episode featuring some of their pieces, and even without asking you first, she had accepted in a heartbeat.

You couldn’t be mad at her for obvious reasons, of course, but you almost considered thanking her for a separate reason, too -- because it somehow seemed to line up on the perfect date.

It’s a hard pill to swallow even as you think about it, but today, the date of the shooting, is your and Gavin’s would-be year anniversary.

Without this shoot, there’s no doubt in your mind that you would be sulking at home otherwise, halfway through your second or third depression nap of the day. But instead, here you are, conversing quite normally to Victor and feeling a little less hopeless than you expected.

Your mind momentarily flickers to him, though, as if habitually. You can only imagine what he’s feeling like right now, sadly, but you still can’t help but pray that at least a fraction of him feels the pain you do

“___!”

Then someone calls your name, and suddenly, you’re back to work again.

One of the main focuses of the episode for your team is the outfits people on-screen wear, of course. But otherwise, the episode itself features a local meteorologist aiming to spread more information and awareness about the conditions of the recent continuous snow. It may not be known to be directly related to superpowers as of now, but as the producer of Miracle Finder, it’s your job to find miracles, and not only those of the supernatural kind.

“Okay, Victor, let me know when everything on that side is good. I’ll check over here.” You say this and wait for nothing more than a nod before going ahead and double-checking with all of your employees that stand ready to record.

All of your operations for the day seem to be going smoothly, so you shoot a quick thumbs-up to the main cameraman. As soon as your arm is back down at your side, though, you notice your phone buzzing from the pocket of your jacket.

Anxiety habitually runs through you as the screen lights up with a blocked number, unwillfully taking you back to all the times you’d been directly contacted by the unknown officers of Black Swan. It startles you so much that you think about letting it ring, but in the last moments, you decide to pick up.

You release a short breath of relief when an automated voice reaches your ears, and you even find yourself feeling a bit dumb about freaking out over nothing. Yet, while you think, a few words the robotic voice says catch your attention and send your heart into another panicked frenzy.

a wind evolver.

You bite down on your lip subconsciously, hoping that you heard wrong.

The voice says an address with its now eerie-seeming tone, and you squeeze your eyes shut as tightly as you can when the line cuts off without warning.

It’s a prank call. You think, not noticing the way Victor’s eyes finally find your worried ones from across the room. Gavin’s completely fine.

You stuff your phone back in your pocket with a resigned huff, a sour feeling settling deep in your stomach the longer you just stand there. Certain possibilities begin to habitually fly through your mind at a rate where you can barely discern them from one another, but each one leaves you with the same aching in your gut -- the same aching that has saved you so many times.

So, you take your phone out again and dial the number you know by heart.

The line’s continuous ringing suddenly seems ominous, and somehow worsens when you’re greeted by Gavin’s voicemail. But, you don’t want to give up just yet, so you find another name in your contacts that could potentially help.

Eli and you don’t communicate often-at least, not much outside of the times you see him-but he had given you his number soon after realising how close you were to Gavin, only just in case. You didn’t think there would ever have to be a ‘just in case’ scenario -- at least, until now.

Thankfully, he picks up after the first couple of rings, his familiar voice bringing a small smile to your face.

“Hey Eli,” You return, your smile growing slightly at the soft sound of recognition he lets out.

“___!” It sounds like he sits up straight before continuing. “It’s nice hearing from you. What’s up?”

You take in a hesitant breath before starting. There’s still a small chance that you’ll be asking baseless questions, and as embarrassing as that might be, you know you’d rather take it than the alternative.

“Well, it’s something with Gavin.” You say. “I just got this weird phone call saying something about him, and now I can’t get a hold of him. Is he with you?”

Eli doesn’t respond for what feels like a millenia, but then, the soft sound of a keyboard fills your ears, so you opt to wait patiently. He unabashedly picks the phone back up a few seconds later and sighs.

“..Do you remember what the phone call said?”

You recount the automated voice’s words and wince at how Eli curses under his breath. If anything, you know it’s at least not a good sign.

“What? What is it?” Dread spirals through your chest as you ask, habitually expecting the worst.

“Gavin went on a mission last night. He told me he’d get in touch when he finished, but he hasn’t yet.” You can almost hear him contemplating from across the line. “___, thanks for calling, but I’ve gotta go now--”

“Wait!’ you quickly interject, garnering the interest of a few production crew around you. But, you pay no mind to them. “Let me come with you.”

“What? No, ___, you’re not coming with me. Gavin would kill me if I got his girlfriend hurt!”

“Eli,” You sigh, a fingertip’s length away from sitting down to massage your temples. It seems that Gavin had chosen not to tell his colleagues about your breakup as well, but that doesn’t help the massive headache it causes every time to explain when someone catches on. “Gavin and I broke up 3 months ago. And now that that’s out of the way, I’m meeting you at the STF in 20 minutes, and if you aren’t there, I’m going to that address myself.”

He’s silent for a few moments before he lets out a reluctant agreement, only to peg on a few rules at the end that you just nod to.

“...20 and that’s it. Any more and i’m leaving without you.”

“Then I'll be there in 15.” You challenge, unable to contain your smile when you hear his resigned laugh.

“Then I’m counting down, ___.”

You say your goodbyes and hang up the phone, quickly thinking to find Victor. It’s unethical to leave during the middle of a shoot and you know he’ll give you crap for it, but you pray that the case of emergency will balance him out, even if it’s just a little bit.

You whisper his name until you’re able to wave him down, unable to help your nervous smile as he approaches you.

“___? Why aren’t you over there monitoring those--”

“I’m really sorry, but there’s an emergency that I need to--”

You cut yourself off when you notice Victor’s surprisingly unreactive face.

“I need to, um, be there. To help with it.”

Victor’s sigh feels heavier than usual as he crosses his arms, hitting you with his signature dubious look. But, the words that come out of his mouth aren’t at all what you expect.

“You look like you’re expecting me to decline something I have no right to keep you from doing in the first place.”

His words take a few moments to process in your jumbled brain, but before you can even react, he begins to shoo you away.

“That means go, dummy.” A soft laugh escapes his lips as his expression begins to melt. “I’ll tell your coworkers, just try to hurry back so I’m not blamed if something goes wrong.”

Your face perks up at the unexpected but appreciated development, shifting with a wide grin as you thank Victor as many times as possible before slipping away. While you weave your way through the distracted crew members, your phone mimics a lead weight in your pocket-- something that’s almost painful to ignore

But you only keep walking, putting on a brave face and praying that Gavin is okay.

“Nineteen minutes, ___.” Eli tells you this as soon as you hurry through the STF’s doors, tapping his smart watch with a familiar smile. “What happened to that fifteen you were talking about?”

“Shut up,” You scoff, unable to hold back your smile as you shake your head. “Would you really have left without me, anyway?”

“You know the answer already. But enough about that, come with me and I’ll catch you up a bit before we head out.”

You descend into silence as you follow Eli to the research room most frequented by the duo over the past few months, listening to the man skim over the events prior while somehow still leaving no semblance of a detail out. It’s faster than you expect, his explanation, yet it leaves you with very little gaps in the story between Eli’s and your own accounts.

“But, ___,” Eli begins as he picks up his jacket, meeting your eyes with such intensity that you almost flinch. “Make sure that when we’re there, you stay behind me no matter what. If they took Gavin down…”

He doesn’t need to finish.

“Yeah,” You choke out softly, berated by the hazy image your head provides of Gavin being so easily overpowered. “I will.”

Eli gives you a small reassuring smile before leading you out of the room, checking that every piece of his equipment is on correctly as he walks. An involuntary chill runs down your spine at a catch of his expression -- his usual carefree smile replaced with the solemn air that you would expect from an officer.

And you don’t like it one bit.

Gavin’s eyes shoot open, drawing a sharp gasp from his lungs as he slowly begins to regain consciousness. But the crackling sensation that floods his chest cuts him off before he can even so much as catch his bearings, begetting an irritated wince from the already tired man.

His vision is clouded by not only exhaustion, though, as the room is also dark in what feels like an unreasonable manner. Absolutely nothing is clear, whether it be what had happened beforehand, or even what lays a few feet in front of him. But in the meantime, another sharp pain forces him to look down and find out.

Rope burns his wrists as he twists his hands, trying to gauge a location for the extreme pain that has suddenly popped up. Gavin curses under his breath as he looks at the gruesome beds that used to hold his fingernails, snippets of memory coming back to him as his eyes rake over the beaten skin.

“You’re in no position to protect her anymore. Give up.”

A curt voice had induced Gavin to look up hours before, glaring into the tepid eyes that already stared back into his own.

“Ya hear that, pretty boy?”

The second and last black swan officer in the room had leaned over slightly as he engaged Gavin, but stood up straight again when the first gave him a subtle yet strong look of warning.

Gavin was silent throughout the exchange, though in his mind, he knew they were talking about you. Black Swan’s interest in you had all but lessened in the recent months, much to his and the STF’s displeasure. Knowing that they were after someone so powerless but not having the slightest idea why -- that scared him beyond belief.

“Your silence will change nothing,” The first man said, calmly re-buttoning his long coat. “Wind evolver, I’m afraid this is it for you.”

Gavin squeezes his eyes shut upon recalling the interaction he’d tried arduously to forget, inadvertently biting his lip so hard that it disturbs the blood already dried there. Disappointment and pain go hand in hand while flaring through his chest in equal measures.

He even briefly considers using his evol despite how little energy he has left, but is painfully aware of what it would take to escape if he did.

So he stays still, his mind racing far too much to notice the pain. Because even if he should, it’s not him that’s he’s worried about --

It’s you.

Meanwhile, seemingly worlds apart from the danger Gavin perceives, you sit in Eli’s passenger seat, safe and sound yet fueled by the vehicle’s general silence. A part of you thinks that you should be scared, but only because you know it wouldn’t be refuted as much as if you said how you really feel.

It’s not necessarily wrong to be determined, though. And because you’re sure that if your roles were reversed, Gavin would think the same, you don’t ponder on the subject any longer. There’s no use in worrying about something you’ve already set your mind to.

And your intuition proves to be correct.

Upon arriving at the designated address, Eli immediately comments on how normal everything looks, and you can’t help but nod your head in agreement. It’s a small traditional style house that you stop in front of, yet to have signs of people inhabiting it other than the few candles to be seen behind some of the shaded windows -- too ordinary for a place that supposedly serves as a lockhouse for Black Swan

“...It doesn’t really look like anyone’s home.”

“Good. Let’s just hope the bastards have left so we can get in and out, then.” Eli says, squinting at one of the windows while noiselessly drawing his gun. “We don’t want to spend any more time here than we need to.”

Eli wastes no time after you hastily concur, very obviously ready to stay true to his words and making quick work of the lock. The entryway is small and homey, but it has an odd smell to it -- one that’s familiar, but not so much so that you can directly pinpoint it.

It sends an involuntary chill down your spine just thinking about it, though Eli says nothing about it, so you choose to do the same even if it’s difficult. He’s too busy surveying the area to notice your hesitance anyway, and you don’t blame him. If your sources are correct, Gavin is somewhere nearby. There’s no time to be distracted, no matter the circumstance.

With that in mind, you force all of the bad premonitions away and focus on the matter at hand -- and the fact that Eli is looking more sceptical with each passing second. It’s understandable, how his eyes flit around uneasily enough for the both of you combined, but you feel yourself getting impatient just watching him.

“Eli…” You mumble, elbowing him and giving him the liberty of pretending not to notice when he flinches. “Let’s start looking.”

His gaze falls to meet yours, and after a moment of thought, he nods. “Fine. Just stay close, okay?”

You don’t have any qualms with that.

Following Eli around as he checks each room is an unexpectedly stressful job, not knowing if Gavin lies beyond the doors until you get the chance to peek inside yourself. The call you’d received earlier burns hot in your memory each time you do so, the voice’s words of warning towards a so-called wind evolver damning.

It’s a scenario you don’t want to delve into, but is unfortunately a reality you have to be ready to accept.

It takes a few attempts to locate the right place, though it’s all-too easy in the long run; almost worryingly so. But even so, that doesn’t stop you from nudging Eli aside to see the scene better for yourself.

The smell you’d noticed at the entrance is potent here, and with a scrunch of your nose, you finally put a name to the hazy smell. It’s the same one you’d become acquainted with after spending so much time in the hospital months back, and while grotesque, it’s almost intimate in the way you remember it.

Narcotics; the pills and liquids you were given to ease your pain each day and night, hang in the dense air.

Tears fill your eyes as you make your way over to where Gavin sits abandoned against the wall, uncertain of where to start. Bruises litter his exceptionally pale skin almost to the point of disfigurement, and the parts of his hands that are visible from where you crouch down show the empty beds that used to hold his fingernails.

You’re afraid to touch him.

Eli comes up beside you, his hurried footsteps conveying the worry you both feel. But unlike you, he has little problem in taking action immediately, taking Gavin’s wrist and feeling for a pulse.

He doesn’t speak, but Eli’s expression tells you enough.

You take your leave quickly after, relaying Gavin to the nearest hospital and tearfully handing him off to the startled nurses. As you sit, Eli takes the opportunity to fill in the doctor assigned to Gavin, even showing his badge to stress the severity of the situation.

The entire ordeal takes days.

Life all but goes back to normal afterwards, your schedule ultimately flipping on its head with the man you love unconscious in the hospital. The rounds you make to visit him are constant enough that you even acquaint yourself with some of the nurses that frequent his room in the time you’re not at his side.

But even they are incapable of soothing your worries.

Gavin feels nothing but sparkling white pain. Whether it’s burning or freezing to the touch, he can’t tell, but it’s an awfully persistent sensation. It’s confusion personified, and like quicksand, he finds himself unwillingly drowning in it. It’s similar to the lights he sees when he first opens his eyes again -- washing everything out with little effort.

Gavin’s gaze adjusts to an unfamiliar ceiling in due time, and soon after, his ears catch up to pick up the faint sound of a beeping heart monitor. Copious amounts of his senses return to him at once, launching him into a coughing fit that makes him very abruptly aware of the warm presence at his side.

They call his name, though their voice is hardly distinguishable.

But, then they reach out and cup his cheek, delicately rubbing their thumb over the shallow cut that lies there. The intimate touch is unmistakable from then on, the way it caresses his skin familiarly soothing him.

“___…”

Your name leaves his lips in a single pant, his eyes squeezing shut as his coughing suddenly begins to cease. You almost find yourself holding your breath as you look on at him, waiting for another sign of life.

And soon enough, his eyes begin to open again, slowly focusing on your face from where you lean beside him. Gavin’s lips turn up in a small smile, and he makes no attempt to hide the affection that oozes from his gaze.

“___.” He repeats your name, his emotions stretching out control as tears come to his eyes. A thousand things flash through them at once, baring both things you expect and things you don’t.

“...Are you okay?” You ask hesitantly, your hand shifting to cup the side of his head as you study his expression. “Does something hurt?”

Gavin only smiles in response, bringing a hand up to cover his eyes as his body shakes silently. You stare at him for a moment, at a slight loss of what to do when you realise you can’t distinguish whether he’s laughing or crying.

“I’m so sorry, ___.”

You don’t understand.

“What?” Your brows furrow as tears begin to prick at your eyes yet again. “What are you apologising for? None of this is your fault..”

Gavin shakes his head, inadvertently cutting you off.

He lets his hand fall back down to his side, allowing you to see his puffy eyes and tear-stained cheeks. You can only stare at him as he continues to avert his eyes, ultimately surprised at his uncharacteristic outburst.

“I thought limiting our contact would help keep you safe.” He weeps quietly, his cheeks flushing from what you assume is a healthy mix of embarrassment and emotion. “But I caused us both so much pain. Every day I was held back by the possibility of messing everything up and never being able to see you again…”

Your heart flutters and drops all in the same motion.

I was right after all?

The memories recall moments stretching back to months ago, to all the moments you spent doubting that everything was really done; that you were really expected to move on like nothing was wrong. But hearing that your suffering wasn’t in vain somehow makes it seem like it was all worth it in the most twisted way.

“But look at you,” You interject softly, releasing a stagnated breath as Gavin looks on at you. “You’re here, next to me, and Gavin -- I won’t leave you. You won’t mess up, and everything will be fine..”

Your words fall out little by little as your eyes well with tears, but every single one is wiped away by the hand of the man in front of you.

Your reach up and place your hand over his. “I promise.”

Things are not all well, and little is fixed when you leave the hospital for the night. But somehow, you still feel like it’s just enough.

Gavin arises hours later feeling like his body is full of lead, unable to even open his eyes enough to focus on the dull light of the setting sun. But it’s with that alone does he realise that you’re no longer asleep next to him.

It makes him anxious in his delirium to think about how you’re probably home well by now, doing a face mask and scrolling casually through social media despite the unceremonious hour. You’re in the perfect spot for someone to take advantage of, namely referring to the Black Swan officers he’d recently become acquainted with.

But you’re blissfully unaware of his worries, making your way back home without an inkling of similar emotions in you. If anything, after months of your future appearing gray and blurry, the unexpected clarity of the situation eases something in you.

It’s a relief how lucky you’ve been.

Gavin’s thoughts go to the same concept as he pulls the thick hospital blanket off of himself, lips twisting into a thin line. It’s a miracle you’ve both managed to get so far -- and luck, unfortunately, only stretches so far.

It’s easy to get his original set of clothes back from the nurse, who seemed weak in the knees from the moment he approached her. The shirt smells distinctly of bleach, though his head feeds him the putrid scent of his own old blood regardless of how well it had been scrubbed out.

Getting out is the harder part. While the on duty nurse had been kind enough to slip things like his phone and badge back into his pocket, it was hell convincing the receptionist to let him check out even when he opted to show them his badge. Though eventually, with his name and number written down haphazardly on a loose scrap of paper, he’s given tight permission to leave temporarily.

The night air sends a chill down Gavin’s spine, and the quick change in temperature has the bandages covering his body sticking awkwardly to his skin. He tries to alleviate the discomfort, but the air currents feel odd in the way they swirl around him, somehow unfamiliar in the few days he’d spent locked away.

Though he shakes this away, writing it off just as he has hundreds of times before.

It’s harder than he expects to fly the short distance to your apartment. His healing wounds give way to a slight headache that only interferes more with the air around him. When he drops himself on your balcony, he practically has to lean over to catch his breath.

Gavin’s brows twine delicately together as he clears his throat a final time, straightening up and making sure there’s no sign of his trouble before knocking on the glass.

He smiles when he notices you padding over in your slippers through the sheer curtain. You seem casual enough that it lets him release a breath, relieved that his worries were for nothing. But then you suddenly open the door, catching him off guard once again.

“Gavin?” You’re rightfully shocked at his sudden appearance, the moonlight lining his quickly drooping figure in silver. “Why are you here instead of the hospital?”

He sighs gingerly, averting his eyes with a sheepish smile.

“I… was worried about you.”

You purse your lips lightly, your eyes going up and down his injured body. It’s hard not to notice the way he stands unevenly, no doubt to hide his limp and alleviate the pain in his torso -- but that much shows in just the way he slouches.

As if on cue, Gavin fumbles, letting himself come down into your waiting arms. His breathing is hard in your ear as you stroke the back of his head, cutting down a bubbling sigh in your throat.

Of course he came to check on me.

“You can barely stand, Gav. What were you thinking coming all the way here?” You lean back to see his tired face and chatsey him gently. “You need more time.”

“I was worried about you, ___.” He reaches up hesitantly to stroke your cheek with his thumb, silencing you for a split second as you watch him.

Gavin’s voice is raspy, showing not only his fatigue but also the pain he tries so hard to hide. “Can you allow me that much?”

You pull your lips into a line and look over his face. His eyes search yours simultaneously, but for what, you aren’t sure -- a sign of forgiveness? Leniency? You only know that whatever he wants to find, he probably won’t.

“Why would you be worried about me?” You ask, brows coming together in a delicate sign of frustration. “You were on the verge of death only days ago!”

He lets his hand fall from your cheek as he exhales. “I know. But your name is passed around a lot when it comes to the black swan officers. This time was no different.”

You don’t respond.

Gavin takes your silence as an opportunity to continue. “So, I decided that after my evol leveled out, I would come and check on you. Just to be sure.”

“But what I don’t get, is why you couldn’t wait?” You say, your eyes narrowing slightly as his ajar mouth closes slowly. “You’re nowhere close to being healed. And if you were that worried, I’m sure Eli or someone would’ve--”

He interjects, his eyes darting away. But you don’t miss the way they soften. “Because I owe you this much, ___. I hope you can understand what I mean.”

You do. The things he had said when he first woke up in the hospital, about the situation and the pressure he hoped to alleviate, it all connects back to where you stand now. So, as much as you hate to admit it, Gavin isn’t completely in the wrong for coming.

You nod, sighing in renouncement.

“Yeah. Yeah, Gavin, I do understand. Sorry.” You say it a bit reluctantly, your eyes shifting down until Gavin catches your face in his hands again.

His lips turn up in a small but attractive smile as he nods. “Hey, don’t apologise for being concerned. I love you for caring.”

You could almost swear that you’re hearing things, but looking up into his eyes, you know you aren’t. Your eyes narrow again, but this time in a more goading manner.

“What’s that?” You hum quietly, smiling up at him as the distance between you slowly begins to close.

Gavin gives you the charming smile you missed, his lips brushing yours as he speaks. “I’ll say it as many times as you want, as log as you never forget it.”

The kiss is soft and slow at first -- as meaningful as it should be, but it steadily transitions into what you’ve been holding back since the moment you met eyes again. His hand shifts languidly to cradle the back of your head, augmenting the already rising feeling in your chest.

His hands mould to you as time drags by, seemingly slowing down in your interaction alone. It makes you happy knowing that some semblance of your buried attraction is still eager to pop out again.

Everything passes by quickly after that point, to the moment you’re standing inside again, pulling away from him.

“Gavin, it’s late, you need to rest.”

He looks at you with a boyish glint in his eyes, his lips twisting slightly.

“Let’s stay up later.”

You step aside to pull back the covers on your bed for him. “But it’s sleep! You know, that thing you need to function--?”

He cuts you off by pulling you back up for another kiss, laughing with you as you ultimately decide to return his affection. But, then he catches you by surprise and lifts you into his arms.

“Ok!” You squeal in delight as you’re dropped right down onto your open bedsheets, your hair splaying messily around you. “Five minutes, that’s all!”

“Ten!”

The worst day of loving someone is the day that you lose them. But, one of the best is when you earn them back.

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clansayeed · 4 years

Text

Bound by Destiny II, part 1 ― Chapter 4: The Feast

PAIRING: Kamilah Sayeed x MC (Nadya Al Jamil) RATING: Mature

⥼ MASTERLIST ⥽

⥼ Bound by Destiny II, part 1 ⥽

While struggling with nightmares of lives she’s never lived, a shadow from the past looming over her city, and the proposed idea that her life may just be a little bit too weird to handle alone, Nadya makes sure to tell herself that everything is perfect just the way it is. If only. When the self-proclaimed King of Vampires (and Maker of her sometimes-girlfriend and always-boss, can’t forget that little tidbit) Gaius Augustine returns intent on claiming Manhattan as the throne that was promised, she and her friends find themselves forced into the task of saving the world. But with millennia-old vampires and an Order of hunters on their heels as well as allies hiding catastrophic secrets at their backs… it won’t be an easy task. Too bad destiny didn’t exactly ask for her input.

Bound by Destiny II and the rest of the Oblivion Bound series is an ongoing dramatic retelling project of the Bloodbound series and spin-off, Nightbound. Find out more [HERE].

*Let me know if you would like to be added to the Destiny II tag list!

⥼ Chapter Summary ⥽

Should she really be surprised that Valdas tricked her, kidnapped her, and now is forcing her to attend a dinner party? Well... that last bit isn't exactly a villain cliche, but Nadya learns all too quickly who the real villain truly is.

[READ IT ON AO3]

They aren’t exactly whispering but Nadya still feels like she’s intruding on something she shouldn’t.

“I’ll leave you two to get ready. He’ll want everything to be perfect and you know how he obsesses over the smallest detail.”

Valdas cups Isseya’s face, threads his fingers through the curls at her temples, and kisses her hairline. The sight of them — creased foreheads and the way crinkles rest just at the corners of their eyes in age and fear and in acknowledgment of all the lonely souls who have walked the paths of grief before them — burns behind Nadya’s eyelids against her will.

She looks away before she gets swept up; before she drowns in them.

“And remember, my love,” he rests their foreheads together, “she can help us. I know it. I’ve felt the power myself — he was right.”

Isseya flickers heavy-lidded eyes in Nadya’s direction. She feels the hairs at the back of her neck stand up; alert.

“That she can does not mean she will, Valdas.”

“Have faith.”

“In who — the fledgling child?”

“In me.”

Nadya looks back — quickly wishes she hadn’t. Every other time she’s seen the woman smile it’s been in some twisted form of malice. It’s been Isseya taking pleasure in someone else’s pain.

But that’s genuine hope she sees now. She’s felt that brief-but-meaningful lifted weight before and well enough to know it when she sees it.

Looking like that, Nadya understands how easy it must have been to fall in love with her.

Valdas barely spares a glance Nadya’s way — his nod curt and formal before he departs and closes the door behind him. She doesn’t even bother trying to run for freedom any more.

She just has to hope that the longer the night goes on the closer Kamilah is to finding her.

“What did he mean,” she asks; and finds it easy not to take it personally that Isseya refuses to look at her, “he said we had to ‘get ready,’ what did he mean by that?”

“What business is it of yours?”

“Stuff that usually involves me is my business.”

“Not when you have no choice in the matter.”

“Like you don’t?”

Nadya’s gut lurches at the sudden red-eyed glare she’s staring into. But she holds her ground — which is a lot more than to be said for the last time she and the Trinity vampire were alone together.

Unlike last time, though, it doesn’t last. The heated fury flitting away, smothered into embers.

“I… suppose such a case could be made, yes.”

She makes her way around the room and when she even gets close to the bed Nadya curls her knees up tighter to her chest on instinct. If Isseya sees it (if she gets any joy out of it, more likely) she says nothing. Just opens another door and flicks on the lights to an en suite.

This is your chance, but even her thoughts don’t hold a full heart in it. So Nadya stays put.

Her gaze falls on a nearby pillow — it’s just a pillow; as fluffed and embroidered and tasseled as Nadya’s failed weapon. But it triggers a memory. Or is it a dream?

“Who was the other woman?” she asks — though she isn’t holding her breath for an answer. “She looked familiar — someone else from the Ball?”

“What other woman? There’s no one else here.”

Because she would know, wouldn’t she? “She was in here before Valdas. Having someone watch me in my sleep is creepy, by the way!”

When Isseya returns she’s wielding an ornate hairbrush like someone would a kitchen knife and doesn’t that make Nadya press herself back further against the headboard. “Do you call me a liar?”

“N-No,” but… “but I remember someone was here.”

“Haven’t you had a hard time telling fantasy from the truth?” And she didn’t need to come at Nadya that hard but she does anyway. “She was in your head. Now — come here.”

Of course she doesn’t — which was the wrong decision to make and one Nadya doesn’t even get the opportunity to regret before she’s being shoved into a chair in front of the nearby vanity. “Hold still,” Isseya growls; and this time Nadya listens.

Everything she does is methodical; stiff and out of an obligation Nadya still doesn’t understand. But at the risk of being tossed around like a doll again she complies with every one of Isseya’s clipped commands. “Turn your head,” “remove your glasses,” “hold still — you fidget like a squirming hog.” And she isn’t gentle about her movements, either.

Though when the vampire steps back to observe the high-and-tight bun she’s somehow fashioned out of the impossible she does give a little “hmm” of self-congratulations.

“Strip,” comes next and that crosses so many lines Nadya doesn’t even know where to begin.

“No.”

“Was I asking?”

Which is how Nadya ends up in nothing but her underwear trying not-so-subtly to cover herself. Though Isseya apparently couldn’t care less; barely turns an eye to her that isn’t observing something only on the surface before she’s digging in the armoire in the corner.

Finally she pulls out a dress — beautiful and plum and way more skin than Nadya’s ever shown in her life and probably not something she can decline — and gives it a careless shove into Nadya’s hands. Nadya tries to grab it before the fabric hits the floor — by the looks of it such a thing might actually be a federal crime — and god forbid their fingers brush.

Isseya recoils as though burned. The suddenness of it has Nadya stumbling back. “Keep your distance. Now dress — quickly.”

Suspicious might be the understatement of the century. Though it sparks in Nadya a thought, one confirmed when she struggles to reach for the zipper at her back and the woman hesitates to help.

“Why are you scared to touch me?” she all but accuses, “I’m not the one of us who bites, remember.”

The very implication which Isseya takes a little too personally. “As if I would fear a thing like you.”

“Well whatever we’re doing there’s no way I’m doing it half dressed so either help me or fess up.”

She does help — eventually. Somehow she still manages to avoid skin contact, too. But when the dress is zipped properly there’s a shield once again between them; this one of rich velvet. Isseya’s fingertips rest underneath Nadya’s ribs light as a feather but make it impossible for her to pull away.

A glance in the vanity mirror tells her everything she needs to know. Epics and tragedies spun in the dark eyes watching Nadya’s reflection.

“He said… at this stage of your condition that… touch is the trigger.” Of course. Nadya nods.

“Just as he told me of the memory you conjured. How do you do it? How do you choose?”

Isseya’s own touch turns pressing; makes Nadya feel like she’s about to be pushed into the floor and lower still. “If I knew I would tell you.”

“Would you?” comes the snapped reply. This time Nadya doesn’t let it phase her. This time she knows what that forked tongue means; what it hides.

“I would, I mean it,” and she continues more for herself than for Isseya, because like she’s gonna let all of this happen and not get her two cents in; unlikely, “because this might surprise you, Isseya, but not everyone is as selfish as you two are. Some people do things even though they know they won’t be getting anything in return.”

Nadya actually watches the incredible amount of restraint it takes for the woman not to rip her throat out right there. She watches with her head held high and maybe a little bit of haughtiness — almost taunting her.

It doesn’t work.

Whatever Isseya is doing here — whatever she and Valdas both are doing here — it’s more important than two thousand years’ worth of pride.

“Wait here,” the vampire tells her; and she actually sounds a lot scarier in this weird state of calm more than she ever did with her fangs bared.

Enough to keep Nadya rooted to the spot while she goes about getting herself ready.

The moon is high in the sky by the time Valdas comes to fetch them. He knocks but doesn’t wait for an invitation to enter and he cleans up just as well in a tuxedo as he had in his old Roman fare — Nadya won’t deny it. He offers his arm to Isseya and she takes it in all of her splendor. Shiny and sleek and like the thing weighing her down is her own perfection — not the pain she feels every time she remembers she’s alive.

Her partner takes in every inch of her like it’s the very first time; like she’s the only thing in his entire world. Judging by the way he almost startles when he catches sight of Nadya behind her — that’s not too far from the truth.

“You look lovely, Nadya.” But Isseya preens under the implied compliment. Nadya just shrugs it off.

“Come, we’ve made him wait long enough.”

Nadya stops in the doorway. “Who?”

And it isn’t the first look of remorse the man gives her… but it’s the first one she actually believes.

“Come.”

No matter how much she wants to Nadya stops herself from punching the familiar bespectacled vampire who pulls her chair out for her.

She’s not a violent person, really she isn’t. But the same kind of feeling has her stomach in knots as it did back during Adrian’s trial; after all hadn’t Jameson betrayed Kamilah just as Nicole betrayed Adrian?

Jameson waits for her to sit. Nadya doesn’t feel like sitting.

“How could you do this to them?”

“If you’d be seated, Miss.”

“Screw that — answer me. How could you do this to Kamilah? She gave you a spot in her Clan.” Which has to mean something, doesn’t it?

Apparently not. “If you would be seated, Miss.”

Nadya makes her protest well known despite the fact that she does, in fact, sit. Jameson pushes her chair in maybe a little too tight before offering the same courtesy to the Trinity.

From what little she’s seen of the so-called scholar it’s not exactly unusual for him to be acting the way he is. Stiff, formal and adhering to rules of etiquette they probably stopped teaching around the same time as the invention of the light bulb. He’s the picture of politeness and it’s just plain unnerving.

The dining room is one of the places that had been roped off during the Ball. Nadya actually prefers it this way. It makes the castle feel a little less familiar and with all the awful memories she already has tied to this place… it’s probably for the best.

Rather than taking a seat himself, Jameson keeps busy with a decanted wine on a silver serving cart. Which leaves one place — the head of the long (long) table — and one guest unaccounted for.

“Where is Marcel?”

Valdas and Isseya exchange glances across the table centerpiece; a bouquet of blood-red orchids and deep purple roses covered in thorns. Night-blooming flowers, she recalls.

“It was decided that the young Lord not join us for this evening’s meal. This is all very distressing to you, of course, and he agreed it would not do well to make it worse.” Valdas answers.

“Wait — decided? Decided by who?”

“‘Whom,’” he corrects, but chooses not to answer.

Instead he waves two fingers in a summoning gesture even Nadya would be insulted by. “Jingyi, the wine if you would.”

Jingyi is apparently Jameson; even more apparent is his contempt for the name and, Nadya is quickly realizing, the vampires who would use it. It bleeds through his teeth clenched around his words “yes, my Lord,” but the Trinity don’t deem it worth even the smallest acknowledgment. Their attention is instead reserved for Nadya.

“Sweet reds, correct?”

Nadya hates to admit it but she’s glad for the distraction of Jameson’s suddenly very close proximity to her neck while he pours. “Sorry?”

Valdas nods to the contents of her glass. “You prefer sweet reds.”

“What’s with you and being creepy about my eating and drinking habits?”

“Live as long as we have and you learn to differentiate people by things other than their faces and their names.” Valdas takes his filled glass and gives it an idle sip. “For example; you are hardly the first Nadya in our lives. But you are Nadya of sweet red wines and terrible eyesight. That sets you apart.”

Isseya’s snort is, like the rest of her façade, perfectly maintained and somehow glittering. She looks to her lover in amusement. “As if the rest of her did not?”

“Your dinner conversation is as tactless as ever, beloved.”

“Well… yes, but that aside,” she turns to Nadya and raises her own glass in a toast either forced or mocking — it’s hard to tell, “he picked a Lambrusco especially for tonight, for you.”

And yeah, okay, any other time one or even two incredibly attractive and incredibly flirtatious people fixate on her with such intensity Nadya might find it in herself to be flattered. But she’s seen what they can do and how little they can feel doing it. That darkness—Valdas’ darkness—she still has trouble shaking.

So for now she’ll settle on feeling uncomfortable.

“Oh…” Quick, what do fancy people do with wine again? Nadya racks her brain hastily until a vision of Kamilah on their last date comes up in her mind’s eye. She swirls the contents slowly (and in doing so tries very hard not to make the literary parallels between red wine and—y’know—blood but ultimately fails) and brings the glass just shy of the tip of her nose.

“It’s very… wine.” Nadya… no…

So she chugs the entire glass on the first go to avoid saying anything else incredibly stupid.

Thank god Jameson doesn’t have to be asked to top her off.

Jameson who disappears through a set of doors and returns not moments later with a new cart bearing trays of small nibbles and bits. It’s almost getting difficult to play along — like she’s supposed to pretend she isn’t being held against her will, dressed up like Secretary Barbie, and still is refused any actual answers? But when a plate is set down in front of her Nadya’s stomach remembers she had declined (with big big regret) to eat at the cafe… so she pushes down any worries of this is probably poisoned they’re totally poisoning me and samples a bit of everything.

Scraping cutlery, chewing, swallowing; scraping cutlery, chewing, Jameson’s muffled footsteps on request, swallowing. Over and over again. What, are they saving the juicy gossip for their missing guest?

Their plates are cleared before Nadya finishes, which is just as well because now that it remembers what food tastes like her body is ready for more than snacks. This time the scholar’s cart bears four silver-domed platters that he places at the head of the table last.

Before Nadya can do a dramatic food network reveal Valdas startles her with a quick tilt of his head. Listening for something her human ears can’t quite hear. Whatever it is it sets the Trinity on edge; makes Isseya look about ready to crawl out of her own skin and Valdas tug at his collar and loosen his tie even though it can’t exactly choke him out.

Nadya slowly slinks her hand back from her cover almost comically.

The double doors at the other end of the room swing inward with dramatic gusto. The small breeze that comes with it pushes an unfamiliar and definitely unpleasant smell against her crinkling nose. Not even the centerpiece flowers or the aroma of the food so close can cover it up.

Her vampire companions stand with creaking chairs just in time for his grand (if trumpetless) entrance.

It’s not an active resistance to this the unmasked authority that keeps her seated. Nadya’s just not sure her legs would be able to hold her up right now. So sitting and not collapsing is probably more respectable, right? She’s rambling — worse than that she’s rambling in her own head.

What else is she supposed to do, though? All these months of crippling headaches and nightmares unending and the feeling of losing herself and filling up the space with a bunch of unknowns — nothing like this has ever happened. She’s seen faces, spoken names, held identities of her own that she could never be. And this is the first time she’s come face to face with one of them.

Nadya knows this man; she’s been him, been loved and Turned and banished and even killed by him. The things she’s seen… the things she’s done with those hands as her own both pale in moonlight and drenched dark near-black with blood how his fingertips look spread wide over the tanned slopes of Kamilah’s bare skin and the strength with which they’ve plunged into hundreds, no, thousands, no, hundreds of thousands of ribcages—

And he’s more than that, too. He’s the man who brought vampires to America, who built his Shadow Kingdom with a conviction Nadya feels like a knife in her gut.

He’s the man who Turned Kamilah, Adrian. The man who loved both of them before eternity did.

The worst part of it is that Gaius Augustine is beautiful. That’s just an objective fact. It’s what makes him so seductive. No wonder the world has fallen on bended knee to him. He looks like a god.

In a way, perhaps he is.

Jameson moves quickly — and with an anticipation that definitely wasn’t there before; something like eagerness — to pull out the high-backed chair but Gaius waves him off with a flippant hand. The same carelessness shown by Valdas but from this man Jameson accepts it without disdain.

There’s a reverence by which Gaius grasps the velvet backing of his chair. Deep in every fingertip; an appreciation Nadya empathizes with against her will. He knows what it’s like to not have such things; little things, insignificant things… or they were until he was entombed.

He looks good, uncomfortably good, for a guy who spent a hella long time starving in a black stone coffin.

He sweeps a crystal blue gaze over his dinner guests but doesn’t seem to register Nadya’s lack of respect. Actually she suspects he only backtracks to her because she’s on the verge of a panic attack and is conveniently the only one in the room with a heartbeat.

“Nadya,” croons a voice she recognizes instantly; her mysterious guide through the winding paths of the Musea Sanguis, “we finally meet — well… face to face.”

He smiles at her; it isn’t returned. Even if Nadya wanted to say something to him she’s not entirely certain she wouldn’t just turn off her filter and let him have it right there. Her mom would probably forgive such unladylike behavior in this one case.

Only her tongue is knotted up too tight for even a little peep.

Of course now would be the time I learn to shut up.

Gaius watches and waits, and when he finally accepts she’s zipped her lips he throws his head back in jovial laughter. The sound makes Isseya crumple the steel fork under her hand into a ball like tin foil.

He stops just as abruptly. “Is this really how we want to begin things? The choice is yours — and yours alone.”

No, it wasn’t, her mind quickly reminds her but Nadya hasn’t forgotten. She didn’t get to choose this awful, terrible thing in her head. Just like she didn’t get to choose to be here; the definition of kidnapping or nearly so. Nadya didn’t even get to choose her own dress! And frankly her thighs are really cold in here.

It’s in that moment that Nadya learns everything she needs to know about Gaius Augustine. He’s a beautiful face and honeyed words but hell will freeze over before he lets anyone forget he’s also death incarnate.

In a blink Gaius’ smile is gone. “Dolling her up was a waste, Valdemaras, if the time could have been better spent teaching her simple manners.”

Valdas fixates on a spot on the table. His head lowered in respect — and fear.

“My apologies, Augustine.”

The older vampire throws him a look of disdain. “Not that I did not anticipate it and prepare myself for the disappointment. You’ve always fallen just short of the mark — little Made-God.”

He seats himself; undoes the black button of his trimmed dinner jacket and relaxes into his chair like a king on a throne. She’s seen his throne — this is exactly how he would sit upon it. On either side of them the Trinity sink back into their chairs and Nadya realizes, now, the cruelty with which Gaius has devised their arrangement.

Isseya’s hand twitches and closes; hard enough for her blood to try and fill the gaps in her fist. She just wants to touch Valdas in comfort. And Gaius has made sure she cannot. In some strange way her heart breaks for them — or is breaking with them — or her heart is theirs and breaks as them — or…

This is really starting to make her head hurt.

Jameson resumes his duties with an obvious change in attitude. He fills Gaius’ glass with a different decanter — the contents of which are still a deep and rich red but she’s been living with vampires for a year now; Nadya knows what blood looks like. And the sight of it takes away all her appetite. Even as Jameson takes the covers off of their plates and reveals what looks like a delicious and expensive cut of steak… she can’t stop looking at the elder vampire’s cup.

“Marvelous,” Gaius compliments, “absolutely marvelous. Boundless are humanity’s shortcomings but they’ve always retained a passion for decorating what they eat. I suppose that may be the one thing left I have in common with them.”

He looks to Nadya with a smile — as if she’ll somehow understand, or agree with him. But she is decorated tonight. And she knows exactly what he eats.

“Don’t you agree?”

Nadya once told Kamilah that she was prone to doing stupid things when she was scared. Good to know that still holds true. “That what, you have something in common with humanity? That’s a hard no.”

Valdas’ knife scraaapes against the china plateware; his quick recovery is honestly impressive.

In a mockery of disappointment Gaius lets his head hang and as he does the waves of his dark brown hair fall in a shadow over his face. Nadya pushes her wine away so fast and so hard she nearly spills it all over the tablecloth.

Because she needs to be clear-headed for this; and she’s obviously already tipsy. How else is she supposed to explain it; he way his skin goes from vivacious and full to taut and decaying and grey; pulled back thin over the shape of his skull.

It makes Nadya think of the strange smell that preceded Gaius’ arrival. The smell of rot and death, she realizes, and can’t even bear the sight of her plate when she does.

And with everything else going weird and wrong in her life Nadya isn’t even surprised that when she looks back up Gaius once again looks perfect; not a hair out of place.

“Why are you so adamant on rejecting my hospitality? Surely you’ve realized this is all for your comfort.”

She chokes on her laugh. “All of what? The meal?”

“Of course. To serve purpose as both an apology for the… unfortunate terms of your arrival —”

“You mean my kidnapping.”

Gaius ignores her interruption; “— and to ease any discomfort you might have about me. I imagine Adrian hasn’t exactly been singing my praises.”

Petulantly Nadya leans against the back of her chair; slumping a little as she does with her arms crossed over her chest.

“Actually, kinda the opposite.”

Of course that grabs his attention, but she doesn’t expect the strange delight captured in his smile. “Is that so?”

“Yeah, given that he hasn’t mentioned you at all. And—before you ask—neither has Kamilah.”

The fork in his grasp bends and is made useless. But then Jameson is there with a replacement in hand and she doesn’t even get the satisfaction of Gaius being inconvenienced.

“I know you believe the course you stay now is, perhaps, the upper hand. But dear Nadya it takes much more than that to get under my skin.”

“Good to know.”

“Nadya.”

Is Valdas seriously trying that right now — does he really think that after what he’s done that’s an okay thing to be doing? Because no, it’s not, and she’ll be more than happy to stop whatever she’s doing that gave him that impression. “No.”

“If you would calm yourself —”

That’s it — Nadya snaps.

“‘Calm myself?’ You’ve gotta be joking. Because that’s a really good joke. Right up there with how you reached out to me, offered me help, and wedged a knife in my back with a psychic roofie.” She chokes on her voice, thick and wet, but to Nadya’s credit she’s gotten really good at keeping how badly she wants to sob inside and close to her chest.

“The things I’ve seen him do — the things I’ve lived through because of him? I told you, Valdas — I told you how this is making me feel. I… I confided in you. Told you things I haven’t even told my best friend, things like how I feel like I’m falling apart at the seams… how sick I feel because I shouldn’t know what killing someone feels like but I do—

“And now, after kidnapping me and bringing me to him —” she jabs her finger at Gaius who simply watches; silent, bemused, “— the man who has done more of those horrors than I can count — horrors I’ve been forced to live through… you think you have a right to tell me to be calm?”

She’s splotchy and flushed and can hear her pulse in her temples but nope no way Nadya regrets absolutely nothing. Even though were this any ordinary dinner party — or even ordinary adjacent — she’d be mortified enough to flee from the room crying.

Then Gaius is clapping; polite and reserved. Jameson goes to join but doesn’t get in even one before a glare from Isseya has him practically cowering where he stands.

“Brava signorina, brava,” and really, does nothing phase this guy, “it’s been far too long since I’ve had dinner and a show. It’s the little things you miss, really.”

“It wasn’t for you.” Nadya snaps with far less heat.

“No, no I see that it wasn’t. It is fascinating, though.”

“What is?”

“How you seem to attract the affections and loyalty of my progeny.”

It gives her whiplash. “Wait—seriously?” But Valdas doesn’t deny it. “So you’re the one who set him free.”

There’s no use in pretending this is going to be a conversation over a polite and decadent meal, so Gaius sets his utensils down and dabs at his mouth with his napkin. Nadya swears she isn’t hallucinating when she sees morbidity and decay for a hand where the cloth covers it.

“My my my, you’re more informed than I could have hoped for. And this regardless of your efforts to spite me, Valdemaras.”

“I know how entertained you are by the pursuit.”

“Is that what you call it?” Gaius nods; makes Valdas look so petty — so small, “Well I suppose one of us ought to succeed in the end. And even Nadya here knows such a thing is impossible for you.”

Don’t bring me into this she wants to say, but to what end? She already is in this. Way way deep in it. Drowning, practically.

So what’s the harm in diving deeper if she’s already going to die choking on water? Too far with the analogy, maybe.

“I know the Council locked you up because you were mad with power. Because so many people were dying and they knew you wouldn’t listen to reason.”

Nadya feels her confidence waiver at something as little as Gaius cocking a brow. “Oh please, do go on.”

“I know there’s a throne under Central Park that once belonged to you.”

“Once? Who sits there now, pray tell?”

“No one.”

“Then perhaps it is mine still.”

“I know you’ve killed more people than I think even you remember.”

Gaius hums. “Possibly. The ends more than justify the means.”

No they don’t. “And I know that everything you do—all the killing, Turning, plotting and kingdoms and thrones… it’s all for her.”

A hollow caricature of sentiment crosses his face and if Nadya were a bigger person (bolder, braver, any other b-word for that matter) she’d smack it right off him in a heartbeat.

“My Queen has —”

“No, I don’t mean Kamilah.” The name tumbles from her lips before she can hold it back.

“I meant your Maker… I meant Rheya.”

Nadya’s having dinner with the dead but only now is the room silent as the grave. Gaius’ expression is unreadable no matter how much she tries. Valdas can’t quite meet her in the eyes and Isseya, well she’s the opposite; like she’s looking at Nadya for the first time and with tears prickling in her eyes.

“Then it’s true…” She laughs in the way mourners are reminded of small fragments of their loved ones’ they’d forgotten. “It’s… you. You’re her.”

Her? Who her? “Indeed she is. And a far more advanced Bloodkeeper than the last I possessed.” Gaius drinks deeply from his glass like he wants her to marinate in his words; wants her to panic from them. “You’ve served me well, Jameson.”

And Jameson nods with a beaming smile. “Thank you, Master. Anything to see our good work done.”

Gaius thumbs a stray drop of blood from the corner of his lips and sucks it clean. “My turn, I think.” But when he stands this time he stands alone. “Shall I tell you what it is that I know, Nadya?”

She has a strong feeling she can’t exactly say no. That feeling would be correct.

“I know the forces that govern our supernatural world are never without a sense of irony. I know that you, the genuine Bloodkeeper, are more valuable than you realize. You call them visions; nightmares. We —” he gestures an arm wide to their vampire audience, “— would call them memories. The Bloodkeeper has been for as long as we have been. Back through the centuries, the millennia, all the way to my Goddess, the woman you name Rheya.

“The more I spread our kind across the world, the more memories there were for her to see. Too many for a mortal mind, though. The last one could not give me what I seek. So I knew when the time came… I could not risk losing her again. Her gift had to be… cultivated properly.”

Gaius leans forward against the table with palms spread wide. Pushing darkness; death out into the world and all of it in her direction. “I had my doubts about you, Nadya. I am not above admitting it was the incessant vehemence of my progeny that convinced me to pursue you; not a mere human dabbling in psychic parlor tricks but the real thing. But you’ve convinced me now; you are that which I am unable to deny.

“So few know of her; my Goddess of Blood and Fury, the First Vampire. Fewer still know the truth of my beginnings; that I am the last of the pure, her devoted one. But you do, Nadya, you do. And the joy that knowledge brings me… I dare say in my current state I am unable to express it justly.”

She’d like to tell him he’s expressing it just fine; perhaps a little too much even. Eyes wide, practically maniacal; the only way to widen his smile would be to take the cutlery to the corners of his mouth and tug.

But Gaius is like all beautiful things — the longer she looks the less perfection she takes in; the more flaws start to leap off the canvas of him and scream to her for attention.

His irises once a blue as bright as the sky now faded pale like a heralding storm, even the pupil gone grey — pearls perfectly fit into the eye sockets of his skull now a little too prominent, protruding a little too stark.

Teeth even and dazzling cracked, thin like eggshells and the same kind of not-quite-white. All the white he could ever need rather rests in thin wisps on the top of his head in clumps and disarrayed — torn out from decade after decade of endless isolation.

Nadya came here (however unwillingly, that didn’t matter now) for the truth. That truth now stands before her in all its repulsive glory and she doesn’t have the luxury of waiting for some unexpected shadow to pass it by. Gaius Augustine hasn’t aged well; not at all. He is a corpse; now as ugly on the outside as he is within. All that without even mentioning the smell of death her senses will no longer deny.

A breath catches in her throat. Nadya quickly covers her nose and mouth with the back of her hand; couldn’t give less of a care about subtlety or Gaius’ feelings on his condition. She can’t look away and Valdas’ stare is too heavy for her to deny; the weight of sympathy.

The Trinity, Jameson; they’ve been seeing Gaius as he really is this whole time. His masquerade; just another lie Nadya didn’t ask for.

His voice was a ruse, too. Because now his every word creaks of old stone lids prying themselves from their coffins. “You ought to be a little more cautious with the tales your expressions tell. A lesser man might take offense to such… distaste.”

If he expects Nadya to apologize for hurting his feelings he’d best be ready to live another couple thousand years before that happens. “What was it? A—A veil of some kind?”

“Of a sort — you learn quickly. But it was merely a glamour to ensure the evening was an amenable one.”

“For my peace of mind,” unconsciously Nadya plucks at a string; not a real one but one within her mind — everyone else has been digging around in there so she might as well join the party, “or for your vanity?”

Gaius’ decaying face can barely show a frown but some vibes just can’t be mistaken. “Cheeky.”

“So what do you want from me?” Nadya asks; with a calm even she didn’t expect. “You’ve spent all this time planning, plotting, torturing—sorry, cultivating—me… what memory was it all for, Gaius?”

He resumes his seat and smiles slow; satisfied. Maybe he thinks she’s being complacent… and maybe there’s a part of her that is.

“I need you to find something for me; an object of great importance.”

“Something tells me it’s not the teddy bear you lost when you were five… hundred.”

This time Gaius laughs a bit more reserved. He taps a withered finger to his lips in thought and Nadya pretends for her own sake that she doesn’t see a fingernail just fall off and onto his half-empty plate. “It is an object of mine; an amulet. And it was, at one time, my most cherished possession on this earth.”

All of his guests (willing and otherwise) watch the unconscious way Gaius trails his fingertip down his chin, his throat — to rest just shy of the last button done up on his crisp red dress shirt. They watch as he traces an idle and misshapen circle. Lost in the moment; in the memory.

So why does he need Nadya?

“When the time came for me to part with it I was reluctant. But it was for the best given the circumstances. For centuries come and gone I had conquered armies, laid waste to entire lands and cities — and yet even I am unable to bend nature to my whim.”

His words lull her in their own strange way like the low, rasping drag of a violin. The first time she feels a tickle at her nose Nadya brushes it aside — it’s an old castle, dust isn’t any surprise. But the second, the third? Nadya can’t help but drag her knuckles over her cheek.

She pulls her hand back and the skin is stained a smeared grey. Darker than Gaius’ pallor across the table. And it burns.

Ash.

Nadya remembers the nausea starting to churn in her belly all too well but that isn’t exactly a good thing. She almost jumps out of her skin when Jameson is suddenly at her side pouring a glass of water from a clear pitcher — didn’t even realize how parched she was until she snatches it forward and practically out of the scholar’s hands for long, deep drinks.

“Beautiful…” Gaius breathes; watching Nadya in awe — even when she chokes on the last gulp. “You can feel it, can’t you; you know exactly of what I speak.”

With anyone else — even Kamilah, even Valdas — she could at least try her best to avoid this awful feeling by keeping her hands to herself. But Gaius is all the way over there, and Nadya is all the way over here, and it doesn’t. matter. one. bit. She feels the influence of him — of his memories — reaching out to her from the other side of the room.

Nadya takes a burning breath and the answer finds itself somewhere between them.

“Vesuvius.”

Gaius confirms with a nod; “I could not risk my amulet falling prey to anything — even that which was beyond my control. So I entrusted it to my firstborn and tasked him with its protection.”

“Hold on — ‘him?’” This whole time Nadya’s been under the impression that Kamilah was the first person Gaius Turned. Or that’s what her visions—his memories—had made her assume.

But who was the only person she knew of that was older than Kamilah?

She looks to her right and Valdas nods without a word, chin resting on hands clasped in front of him.

“You?”

“My first mistake,” answers Gaius for him — contempt for the man beside him dripping foul between his teeth, “and regrettably not my last. As I had given it to mine, so too did Valdemaras give the amulet to his firstborn. And we all know how that ended.”

Neither of the Trinity will look at her; at Gaius either. No longer with their heads held high; like his disapproval of them is a real, tangible thing forcing their heads down, eyes down, and demands of them to feel nothing but shame.

Jameson refills her water slowly. Nadya drinks because if she does then she can’t open her big mouth.

“Thus the task falls unto you, my little Bloodkeeper, to remember where the cur misplaced my amulet.”

He says it like it’s so simple; like flipping through the pages of a book she ought to know well. But not only has Nadya never even heard of that metaphorical book — it’s in a whole other freakin’ language.

And she has a feeling Gaius isn’t the kind of guy to take excuses in stride. So — she stalls.

“And what are you going to give me in return?”

Gaius scoffs but easily grins around it. “I beg your pardon?”

“You heard me,” though judging by the state of decomposition on his ears… “I have something you want,” or at least that’s what you think, “so what do I get out of it?”

“You get to live.”

“Not good enough.”

Isseya’s lips twitch — the barest hint of amusement that Gaius misses in his incredulity.

“Is that so? Here I was under the impression mortals held their lives in higher value.”

“Well you’re not the first vampire to threaten me. Actually, that was Kamilah. Heck, you aren’t even in the top three. So I’ve gotten used to it. And besides…” Nadya pushes her glasses up her nose until it hurts. “If you kill me then you don’t get what you want anyway.”

In the silence that follows Nadya’s thoughts dissolve into a whirling chaos; desperate to think of her next move. She could demand that Gaius let her go — but that didn’t help her much. She could demand that and that she’s brought back to Manhattan, to Adrian and Kamilah, safe and sound. But the thought of him anywhere near them just makes her queasy. He kept them out of this — what would they think of her if she were the one to bring them in?

The longer she’s left to think the more incredulous Nadya’s ‘conditions’ become, though, so it’s almost a relief when Gaius inclines his head in a subtle nod.

Almost because he’s smiling and so far nothing—nothing—good happens when he smiles.

“I can see why my Queen has taken to you so.” Gaius says darkly, somehow darker than all the darkness he’s been hurling out already and it makes Nadya’s blood curdle in her veins. “She always preferred a certain recklessness in her mortals. Not to mention how surprisingly refreshing it is to meet such resistance for so long. But understand well — it never lasts.”

He raises a hand and Nadya’s body flinches on instinct, eyes squeezing shut waiting for a blow that doesn’t come.

Instead, Gaius snaps. “Get on with it.”

And she can’t move. She can’t move. Why can’t she move?

Fingertips brush feather-light at her temples.

Jameson.

One touch and Nadya can already feel the headache starting to build; storm clouds gathering on fast-forward in her head and everything is growing fuzzy at the edges of her eyes. The same kind of reaching, probing curiosity the psychic vampire had used back at Adrian’s trial but comparing the two is the difference between water and acid.

He’s killing her. Oh god he’s killing her. Burning her up from the inside out and without the mercy to let her even so much as scream while she’s forced to endure it.

Isseya on her left, Valdas on her right. A not-unfounded pity in their eyes watching but not making any move to help her as Nadya struggles, tenses her muscles until she’s shaking in her own skin but it’s all in vain — she still doesn’t move.

Help her, because it isn’t Nadya who owns her thoughts anymore; they belong to Jameson. Help her please help her help her helpher—

They don’t.

“I would have thought all of this —” Gaius’ voice blends into the pain; makes them synonymous with each other, “— would have explained things as they are, crystal clear. You are valuable to me as an object is valuable, Nadya. But objects do not dictate who owns them, nor make conditions upon their use. They are but objects; used as the owner sees fit.”

Behind her, Jameson’s whisper roars over the pain that can’t be anything other than her brain trying to punch its way from her skull.

“Remarkable — a vast improvement from when last I walked these paths…”

Get out get out getout!

“Valdemaras tells me she’s encountered these particular memories before. Does that make your task easier?”

“Yes, Master.”

“Then find what I need, and be quick about it.”

“If he isn’t cautious… she may burn out.” And even though Valdas sounds sympathetic she knows he’s anything but — this is all his fault. What she wouldn’t give to tell him to shove it. “Or the memory may be… incomplete.”

Nadya blinks, feels tears clinging to her lashes heavy and the warm trails they leave down her cheeks. But she can’t see. Not black or white, not the dining room or whatever Jameson digs for in her mind.

She just sees agony.

There’s a clap — the distinct sound of flesh on flesh. What might be a choked noise from where Isseya was sitting.

“Question me again, Valdemaras, and you will be mourning two-fold.”

“… Forgive me, my King.”

“If you earn it.”

“I feel it,” cries Jameson with glee, “I believe I’ve found the Amulet of Nero, Master. Strange… how she resists me still. As though she’s pulling the memory just out of reach.”

Nadya doesn’t have to see Gaius to feel the weight of his glare.

“Then dig deeper.”

Then she sees nothing; nothing at all.

#bloodbound #bloodbound fanfiction #choices bloodbound #gaius augustine #playchoices fanfiction #jameson #bloodbound mc #mc: nadya al jamil #oc: valdas #oc: isseya #fic: oblivion bound #oblv: bound by destiny ii #oblv: new chapter #; my fics

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