aurelie

"I tell you, Tish, the thrill of those midnight catacomb runs in Madrid!" Gomez declared, his eyes gleaming with passionate fervour as he executed a swift, dramatic parry against an invisible opponent. "The dust! The ancient curses! The sheer, glorious peril of it all!"

Morticia sat gracefully in a high-backed velvet armchair, a delicate cup of steaming nightshade tea resting in her slender hands. Her dark eyes followed Gomez with absolute, mesmerising adoration, a slow, enigmatic smile curling her crimson lips.

"It was terribly romantic, darling," Morticia purred, her voice like silk dragged over velvet. "Especially when the ceiling collapsed, and we were trapped in the gloom for three days. You were so deliciously desperate."

"Ah, Mon Cher!" Gomez gasped, dropping his rapier onto the table with a loud clatter to rush over and kiss Morticia's hand with frantic, devoted kisses up her arm. "You drive me to the very brink of madness!"

You let out a soft, silver-bell chuckle at their antics, resting your chin in your hands as you looked up at them. "The floorboards under your chair are purring, Morticia. They like Gomez's sword fighting. They say it feels like a heartbeat."

"The masonry is mistaking kinetic friction for emotional resonance," a low, hollow baritone murmured from just above you.

You didn't need to look up to know Isaac was there. He moved with a fluid, eerie lack of sound that made him seem more like a shadow taking physical form than a person. He stood right behind where you were sitting on the rug, a tall, unyielding monument of sharp black wool and pale composure. He had shed his heavy uniform coat for the night, leaving him in his crisp white shirt, but his posture remained as immaculate and rigid as ever.

Isaac’s DaVinci mind was, as always, processing the room in precise equations. In his pale, long-fingered hands, he held a set of heavy, silver-tooled callipers and a sheet of thick vellum paper, where he was meticulously mapping the trajectory of the hearth's heat distribution.

Without breaking his clinical gaze from his ledger, Isaac stepped forward, his long leg smoothly straddling the space behind you. With zero wasted motion, he sat down on the rug directly behind you, his dark trousers brushing against your colourful ruffles.

Before you could even turn your head, his long arms reached around your waist, pulling your back flush against his broad chest. His physical gravity was immediate, a heavy, cool anchor that instantly absorbed the light, erratic static humming through your nerves.

"Isaac," you chimed, leaning your head back comfortably against his shoulder, looking up at his sharp jawline. "Your chest is being very loud tonight. It’s ticking faster than the grandfather clock in the hall."

"The ambient room temperature has increased by two degrees due to the hearth," Isaac stated, his voice a low, soothing rasp against your ear. His broad hand rested flat over your side, securing you firmly in his lap. "My metabolic rate has adjusted accordingly. Your frequency, however, is stable. Do not disrupt your baseline by shifting your centre of mass."

"Ha! Look at him, Tish!" Gomez laughed loudly, leaping back from Morticia’s chair and pointing a manicured finger at Isaac. "The immovable mountain conquered by a splash of lavander! Absolute, magnificent defeat!"

"It is not defeat," Isaac corrected smoothly, his bottomless dark eyes flicking toward Gomez with cool detachment. "It is structural stabilisation. Elara’s atmospheric frequency requires a permanent counterweight to prevent localised thermal volatility."

"Call it whatever unromantic formula you wish, my dear Isaac," Morticia smiled, tilting her head gracefully as she took a slow sip of her tea. "The result is the same. You look positively captive."

You giggled, reaching up to gently trace the sharp line of Isaac’s collarbone through his shirt. "I think he likes being my dark mountain."

Isaac didn't offer a verbal rebuttal. Instead, his pale hand slid up from your waist, his long fingers cupping the side of your neck, his thumb lightly pressing against your pulse point to monitor your rhythm. He applied just enough pressure to keep you securely tucked into the hollow of his shoulder, completely indifferent to Gomez and Morticia's teasing as long as you were safe within his shadow.

"Come now!" Gomez announced, snatching a velvet-lined box from the mantelpiece. "The night is far too young for absolute stillness! I demand a round of Spanish tarot casting! Let us see which of us is fated to face the headmistress's wrath tomorrow!"

Gomez swept the papers off the heavy mahogany coffee table with a dramatic flourish and began dealing the ancient, heavy iron cards onto the wood. The cards hit the mahogany with heavy, dull thuds, each one releasing a tiny puff of ancient dust.

Morticia glided over from her armchair, her long black skirts sweeping silently across the floor like water, and took a seat beside Gomez. "Draw first, darling. Show me how recklessly you can confront destiny."

You wiggled slightly in Isaac’s lap, turning your head toward the table. "The cards smell like old thunder, Isaac! They want to play!"

Isaac sighed, a barely audible exhale through his nose, but he didn't unclamp his arms from around you. Instead, he simply shifted his weight, shifting you effortlessly in his arms as he slid closer to the table so you wouldn't have to strain to reach the cards.

"The distribution of fifty-two cards is governed by basic probability, Gomez," Isaac noted coldly, though he allowed you to reach out and grab a silver-edged card from the deck. "Destiny is merely an uncalculated variable."

"Ah, but the fun is in the calculation, my cold friend!" Gomez beamed, throwing his head back with a triumphant laugh as he flipped his own card over to reveal a dramatically drawn skeleton holding a lightning bolt. "Look at that! The Tower! Disaster! Ruin! Absolute chaos! A magnificent omen for the weekend!"

"It suits you wonderfully, Mon Cher," Morticia purred, leaning in to press a lingering kiss to Gomez’s cheek.

You flipped your card over, revealing a glowing, silver star surrounded by delicate, painted vines. "The star," you whispered, your amber eyes sparkling with whimsical delight. "The card says the wind is going to bring us sweet rain tomorrow."

Isaac looked over your shoulder at the card in your small hands, his obsidian eyes softening by a fraction of a millimetre. His thumb smoothed over your cheekbone, drawing your attention back to his face.

"The barometric pressure is indeed dropping," Isaac murmured, his voice a quiet, possessive rumble that belonged only to you. "The rain will arrive at zero four hundred hours. But you will be asleep."

"Only if you stay right here," you whispered back, offering him a bright, sweet smile as you snuggled deeper into his chest.

"I am locked in position," Isaac replied simply.

Gomez swept the cards back into a pile with a satisfied clap of his hands, resting his arm around Morticia’s shoulders as the four of you sat together in the warm, flickering light of the hearth. Outside, the fog pressed against the heavy glass windows, but inside the Lugosi Tower, surrounded by dark romance, ancient magic, and unyielding gravity, the night was perfectly, beautifully complete.

xoxo aurelie

Isaac sat at his oak worktable, a tall, unyielding monument of sharp black wool amidst the soft glow of the hearth. His DaVinci mind didn't function on whimsical impulses; it ran on geometry, trajectories, and absolute calculation. He didn't scoff or dismiss your words, nor did he offer patronising comfort. He simply turned his head, his bottomless obsidian eyes locking onto you with clinical, unblinking intensity.

He scanned your posture, the slight tension in your shoulders, the erratic, rapid skipping of your breathing, and the light static hum clinging to your brown curls.

"Your atmospheric intake is elevated," Isaac murmured, his voice a low, hollow baritone that seemed to absorb the ambient cold drafts in the room. "And your core temperature is dropping due to the proximity of the window glass."

"I can't lie down, Isaac," you insisted, leaning your head back against the stone, your voice carrying that soft, breathless chime that always spiked when your mind caught a distant frequency. "The light is ticking like a tiny clock. It’s trying to send a message before the fog rolls in from the lake."

Isaac set his charcoal pencil down on the desk with absolute, silent precision. He didn't argue with your perception of the stars. He knew that for an Animist, the world spoke in chaotic, overwhelming waves, and trying to debate the logic of a storm only made it hit harder.

With that fluid, eerie lack of sound that belonged entirely to him, Isaac stood up.

He crossed the stone floor, his broad, tailored frame easily cutting off the draft. He didn't hesitate or linger at the edge of your space; he stepped directly into your perimeter, his tall shadow completely eclipsing the window pane and blocking out the velvet sky.

"The celestial bodies operate on a predetermined orbital decay," Isaac said softly, stepping right up to the windowsill. "Their light has taken several hundred years to reach this coordinate. The data is already static. It does not require your real-time mediation."

You looked up, your wide, spinning amber eyes meeting his unblinking dark gaze. "But the blinking-"

"Is an atmospheric refraction," he interrupted gently, though his tone left no room for debate.

Before you could track another flickering ray of light past his shoulder, Isaac’s long, pale fingers reached out with absolute, calculated precision. He didn't snatch at you; he simply wrapped his hands securely around your wrists, his thumbs pressing firmly against your pulse points.

The moment his cool skin made contact with yours, a heavy, grounding shockwave ran through your system. His cold, unyielding physical gravity acted like a lightning rod, instantly draining the erratic static humming through your nerves.

"Look at my coordinates," Isaac commanded, his voice dropping into a lower, fiercely possessive frequency. "Ignore the sky."

Your breath caught in your throat as he shifted his weight. Without breaking his hold on your wrists, Isaac leaned down, using his height and leverage to gently guide you off the stone sill. He didn't let you linger on your feet where your restless energy could take over again; instead, he maneuvered you straight toward the heavy velvet makeshift bed on the far side of the tower.

"Isaac, the sequence-" you started, your fingers twitching weakly against his grip.

"Is locked," Isaac stated smoothly.

He sat down on the edge of the mattress, pulling you directly into his lap before you could pull away. His long arms wrapped around your waist, drawing your colourful ruffles flush against his dark chest, completely surrounding you in his dark, heavy aura.

He leaned down, pressing his forehead firmly against yours. The physical contact was absolute. In his arms, you couldn't see the arched window, you couldn't see the flickering stars, and you couldn't hear the hum of the night sky. You could only feel the rigid, unyielding mass of his chest and the slow, terrifyingly steady rhythm of his heart.

"Count the cadence of my sternum," Isaac whispered, his breath cool against your flushed cheek. "It is operating at a constant, predictable sixty beats per minute. That is the only frequency required in this room."

You closed your eyes, letting out a long, trembling breath as his thumbs began a slow, hypnotic stroke along your jawline. His hands were large, cool, and completely steady, a stark, safe contrast to the buzzing chaotic universe outside the glass.

"Your clock is much quieter," you whispered, your small hands reaching up to clutch at the lapels of his shirt, anchoring yourself to him as the last lingering static in your mind began to quiet down.

"Because it is calibrated exclusively to anchor you," Isaac replied against your hair.

Slowly, the exhaustion you had been fighting finally settled into your muscles. Your head slumped heavily into the crook of his neck, your fingers slackening against his shirt as your breathing slowed down, matching his deep, rhythmic baseline.

Isaac didn't move. He remained sitting upright on the bed, holding you in that tight, protective lock until he was certain your frequency had completely stabilised into deep sleep. Only then did he shift, sliding you both beneath the heavy velvet quilts without ever breaking his hold on your waist.

He pulled the blankets up, completely shielding you from the draft, keeping his arm anchored tightly over your side. Outside, the stars continued their silent, ancient arc across the sky, but inside the dark sanctuary of the tower, your storm was completely at rest, held safe in the shadow of your dark mountain.

xoxo aurelie

"Rest is not meant to be entertaining."

"Well, it should be." You stepped closer, leaning over his shoulder to glance at the dark parchment in his hands. "What are you reading? Is it top secret? Dangerous? A super confidential plan to organise the archives?"

Alec slowly rolled the scroll closed, denying you a view. "It is administrative."

"Boring," you declared instantly.

A tiny, nearly imperceptible twitch touched the corner of Alec’s mouth. "As I said."

You hovered beside him, full of unused energy. A tiny spark of light flickered briefly over your knuckles, a habit when your mind was racing, before you remembered his usual rule and snapped your fingers, snuffing it out.

Alec caught the movement. He looked down at you, his crimson eyes cool and steady. "You are restless."

"A little," you admitted, shifting your weight. "The castle is too quiet tonight. Everyone is acting like statues."

"We are vampires," Alec pointed out reasonably. "Statuesque is our natural state."

"You know what I mean." You looked up at him, your expression softening just a fraction, dropping the dramatic flair for a moment. "I wanted to see you."

Alec didn't reply right away. The statement hung in the cool air between you, simple and completely unguarded.

He set the scroll down on the heavy mahogany table behind him. "I am here."

"I know," you smiled slightly, stepping into his space until you were standing right in front of him. You reached out, your fingers lightly catching the edge of his dark cloak. "Are you busy?"

"Always," he replied.

"Are you too busy for me?"

Alec stared at you for a beat. His gaze swept over your face, taking in the quiet expectation in your eyes, the faint warm colour lingering in your cheeks.

"No," he said softly.

The answer was immediate, without a shred of hesitation.

You beamed, the bright, familiar warmth returning to your posture instantly. "I knew it. You secretly love my distractions."

"I tolerate them," he corrected automatically.

"Lie." You leaned your head against his arm, wrapping both hands around his elbow. "You miss me when I'm not around to annoy you. Admit it."

Alec didn't move away. Instead, he raised his free hand, his cold fingers brushing lightly against your wrist, a brief, anchoring touch before settling over your hands.

"You are overly confident," he murmured, though there was no real sharp edge to his voice.

"I'm observant," you countered smoothly, looking up at him from his shoulder. "There's a difference."

"Is there?"

"Yes. And my observations say that you haven't told me to leave once since I walked in here."

Alec looked out toward the dark window, watching the rain begin to trace slow paths down the glass. The library was vast and cold, filled with centuries of dead history, but the space between the two of you felt solid, warm, and entirely alive.

"I have work to finish," Alec said, though he made no move to pick up the scrolls again.

"I'll be quiet," you offered, raising three fingers in a mock pledge. "Absolute silence. You won't even know I'm here."

Alec looked back down at you, a faint, dry hum echoing in his chest.

"Unlikely," he said.

"Hey, I can be quiet!"

"For approximately thirty seconds."

You opened your mouth to argue, realised he was entirely correct, and closed it again with a small huff.

Alec's thumb rubbed a quiet, slow circle against the back of your hand.

"Stay," he said quietly, the word slipping out before you could launch into another defensive tangent.

You stilled, looking up at him in surprise.

He didn't repeat himself, but he didn't look away either.

"Okay," you murmured, the teasing fading into a soft, genuine smile. You shifted closer, leaning comfortably against his side. "I can do that."

xoxo aurelie

Sensing the change in you, Peter’s fingers moved differently over the holes of his pipe. The wild, frantic rhythm slowed. The sharp notes smoothed out, transitioning into a low, droning, hypnotic melody that felt like velvet dragged over moss.

The boys instinctively followed the music. Their chaotic leaping subsided into a slow, swaying, trance-like dance. They moved in a wide, rhythmic circle, their heads bowed, completely captured by the heavy lullaby Pan was weaving. The entire clearing began to feel sleepy, wrapped in an eerie, stifling calm.

You fought to keep your eyes open, but the heat of the fire in front of you was so warm, and the cold stillness of the boy behind you was so comforting. With a soft sigh, your eyes fluttered closed, the dancing boys turning into a soft blur before everything went dark.

The moment your breathing deepened into sleep and your weight went completely slack against his legs, Peter moved. The music didn't stop, he didn't miss a single note, but with supreme, effortless grace, he transitioned to playing the pipe with just his left hand, keeping the low, haunting melody humming through the air without a single stammer in the rhythm.

With his right hand, he reached down. His long, calloused fingers curled securely under your arms, and with a single, fluid pull, he lifted you off the dirt and right onto him. 

You murmured something soft and incoherent in your sleep, a tiny sigh escaping your lips as the sudden movement shifted you. Instinctively, your body sought out his familiar warmth, and you settled directly onto his lap. Your face tucked perfectly into the crook of his neck, your nose pressing against the cool skin of his collarbone, while your hands loosely clutched the fabric of his green tunic. Peter adjusted his hold, wrapping his strong arm firmly around your waist, pulling you so flush against his chest that there wasn't a breath of space left between you. He cradled you there, the wooden pipe held steady with his other hand as the music continued to breathe life into the shadows around the fire.

He looked down, his emerald eyes dark and heavy as they fixed on your sleeping face. In the flickering orange glow of the bonfire, your features were soft, completely devoid of the sharp edges of fear that plagued every other soul on this island.

A quiet, terrifying sense of triumph swelled in his chest as he watched you. He thought about how easily you surrendered to the dark, how completely you trusted the very monster the rest of the world ran from. He noted the way your fingers tightened slightly on his tunic, even in sleep, as if your subconscious knew exactly who held you. 

You aren't going anywhere, he thought, a slow, predatory smirk touching the corners of his lips as the pipe continued its low hum.

The world can search for you, the heroes can fight for you, but you sleep in the arms of the beast, and you choose to stay.

He leaned his head down just enough to let his lips brush against your hair, inhaling the sweet, wild scent of jasmine and woodsmoke that belonged entirely to his favourite prize. 

As the boys continued their mindless, rhythmic swaying in the background, Peter kept playing, his mind wrapping around the terrifying, beautiful reality that you were exactly where you would remain forever.

With you locked securely in his embrace, he brought his hand back up to the wooden pipe. The full, rich depth of the melody returned, vibrating directly through his chest and into your sleeping frame.

The haunting tune echoed into the dark, a private tether disguised as a melody, keeping his only Lost Girl exactly where she belonged, dreaming under the watchful gaze of her king.

xoxo aurelie

By day six, they had both told you clearly, repeatedly…

“You need to sleep.”

Your response had been consistent.

“No.”

So by day ten…

You ran.

—

You hear them before you see them.

That was part of the game.

You dart down a side corridor, breath uneven, not from exhaustion exactly, but from something close to it. Your movements were still fast, still sharp, but not as precise. 

Not as controlled.

“Don’t you dare,” you mutter under your breath as you turn sharply, slipping into a narrow passage you know most guards avoid.

Footsteps behind you.

Not rushed.

Not frantic.

Worse.

Certain.

You grin despite yourself, adrenaline sparking. “You’re not going to catch me.”

“You misunderstand,” Jane’s voice echoes, calm and cutting.

You freeze for half a second.

That was all it took.

A presence behind you.

A hand catches your arm.

Alec.

You twist immediately. “No!”

Too late.

He has you.

Not rough.

Not hurting.

Unavoidable.

“Let go,” you snap, trying to pull free.

“No.”

Jane appears in front of you now, blocking the only path forward.

Your eyes flick between them, frustration flaring fast.

“I’m not tired.”

“You are unstable,” Jane corrects.

“I’m fine.”

“You are not,” Alec says evenly.

You yank against his grip again. “I said I’m fine!”

Alec doesn’t tighten his hold.

He doesn’t need to.

“You do not run from us.”

The words were quiet.

Final.

Jane steps closer, her gaze sharp, unyielding.

“You do not hide from us.”

Your jaw clenches. “I wasn’t hiding,”

“You do not avoid us,” They finish.

Silence snaps tight between you.

Your defiance burns, but it flickers, uneven now. 

“I don’t want to sleep,” you mutter.

Alec doesn’t argue.

He simply moves.

One second, you are standing.

The next…

You are off the ground.

“Alec!”

He lifts you effortlessly, one arm under your legs, the other steady at your back as you struggle immediately.

“Put me down!”

They ignore you.

Jane turns without another word, already heading toward your chambers.

You kick lightly, twisting. “I mean it, I’m not going!”

Alec adjusts his hold, tighter now.

Not hurting, just removing the option of escape.

“You are.”

—

The door shuts behind you with finality.

You are set down, but not released.

You try to step back.

Jane is already there.

You groan. “You’re both impossible.”

“And you are exhausted,” Jane replies.

“I said I’m not-”

Alec’s hand comes to your jaw, not forceful, but firm enough to make you look at him.

“You are not thinking clearly,” he says.

That hits something.

Not enough to stop you.

But enough to make you hesitate.

“I don’t want to sleep,” you repeat, quieter now, but stubborn.

Jane moves closer behind you.

“You don’t get to choose that anymore.”

You roll your eyes. “That’s dramatic.”

Alec doesn’t respond.

Instead, he reaches for the edge of your shirt.

You jerk back immediately. “What are you-no!”

“You are showering,” Jane says.

“I can shower later.”

“No.”

You try to twist away again.

Alec catches your wrist.

Jane catches the other.

Not aggressive.

Not angry.

Just done.

“Stop fighting us,” Alec says.

“I’m not fighting-”

“You are,” Jane cuts in.

A beat.

Then, lower…

“And you are losing.”

That was enough.

Not surrender.

But the fight drains just a little.

Just enough.

—

The process is not graceful.

You complain the entire time.

You resist when they guide you into the shower, flinching at the water as if it offended you personally, muttering under your breath about “being kidnapped by your own mates.”

Jane ignores it.

Alec ignores it.

They move with quiet efficiency. 

Helping, guiding, steadying when you sway just slightly more than you should.

By the time you were clean, dressed, and halfway dry, your energy shifts.

Still restless.

But heavier.

Slower.

Jane sits you down without asking.

“Stay.”

You slump slightly. “You’re both so bossy.”

Jane picks up a brush.

“Yes.”

She starts working through your hair.

Slow, careful, methodical.

You go quiet.

Not fully.

But quieter.

Alec stands nearby, watching. 

Not tense, not distant. Just present.

Your eyes dift closed.

Then snap open again.

“I’m not sleeping,” you mumble.

Jane doesn’t stop brushing. “You are.”

“I’m not!”

Alec steps closer, his hand resting lightly at the back of your neck.

“Enough.”

Soft.

Final.

—

The bed feels too still.

Too quiet.

You shift immediately when they guide you down, trying to sit back up.

“No.”

Alec’s hand presses gently on your shoulder.

Jane adjusts the blankets around you.

“I don’t like this,” you mutter.

“You will,” Jane says.

“I won’t-”

Alec lies down beside you.

Jane lies on the other side.

That stops you.

You look between them, something soft flickering through the exhaustion.

“…You’re both staying?”

“Yes,” Alec says.

Your resistance cracks.

Just a little. 

“…Okay.”

Alec’s hand moves slowly along your back, steady, grounding.

Jane’s fingers slip into your hair again, gentler now, smoothing it back from your face.

You shift closer without thinking, curling into Alec, one hand reaching blindly for Jane.

They both let you.

Hold you.

Keep you there.

“You’re both very annoying,” you mumble.

Alec’s voice is low, near your ear. “Sleep.”

Jane presses a soft kiss to your temple.

“You’re safe,” she says quietly.

You exhale.

Long.

Heavy.

The tension finally leaving your body in pieces.

Your grip loosens.

Your breathing slows.

“…Don’t leave,” you murmur.

“We won’t,” Alec says.

Jane’s hand continues its slow, soothing rhythm through your hair.

Another soft kiss.

“Sleep.”

And finally…

You do.

xoxo aurelie

For the first time in his immortal life, his target is actively glitching in his mind.

"You are jumping," Demetri hisses, his voice a low, dangerous vibration. "Every time I lock on, the space between us folds."

The chase lasts weeks, a feat of supernatural endurance that quickly becomes legend among the guard.

Demetri tracks you to the black forests of Germany, only to find the lingering scent of your skin in a clearing while you are already traversing the snowy peaks of the Alps. 

He gets close enough to see the shimmer of your hair, but the moment his fingers brush the air where you stand, you vanish.

In a crowded market in Vienna, Demetri is inches away. 

He can hear your heart, that frantic, hybrid rhythm. But the air is empty. You have pulled the light around yourself, becoming a literal hole in reality. He lunges, but his hands meet only cold stone.

He finally corners you in a crumbling abbey in France. 

"Stop!" he roars, his voice cracking with the strain of the hunt. "You cannot run from what we are!"

You look at him then, eyes wide and terrified, filled with a longing you refuse to acknowledge. "I won't be a trophy, Demetri!"

With a sharp crack of displaced air, you are gone again.

Eventually, even your hybrid energy hits a limit. You have jumped so many times that your physical form is beginning to fray; your teleportation is becoming short, erratic, and painful.

Demetri finds you in a remote coastal cave in Cornwall, the Atlantic Ocean thundering against the rocks outside. You are slumped against the damp stone, too exhausted to even turn invisible. You flicker weakly, like a dying candle in the dark.

He doesn't run this time. He walks. Every step is deliberate, his eyes fixed on you with a terrifying, possessive focus.

"You are the first," Demetri whispers, his voice echoing against the salt-sprayed cavern walls. "The only soul in five centuries to leave me behind. Do you have any idea what that did to me? To know you were out here, fading, while I was a world away?"

Despite the tremors in your limbs, you claw at the stone wall, trying to drag yourself away from him. You don't want to be caught. You don't want to be the tracker's prize.

"Don't touch me," you rasp, your voice raw from the salt air. 

As he reaches for you, you force one last, desperate jump. You only move five feet, a pathetic, staggering glitch in space, but it drains the last of your strength. You collapse onto the wet sand, your skin marble-pale.

Demetri is over you in a heartbeat. He doesn't grab you roughly; instead, he slams his hands against the stone on either side of your head, pinning you within his shadow.

"Don't," he commands, his breath cold against your cheek. "If you jump again, your heart will stop. I will not let you kill yourself to escape me."

You look up at him, your chest heaving, your eyes blazing with a final, flickering spark of defiance. "Then let me go. Truly go. I am not a thing to be tracked."

"Never," Demetri rasps, his eyes darkening with an intensity that steals the air from your lungs. 

He leans in, his forehead dropping against yours. The contact is electric, the mate bond finally snapping into place with a force that makes you both shudder. 

"Run to the ends of the earth. I will follow. I will always find you. You are the only thing in this world I cannot lose."

He doesn't drag you back in chains. 

He carries you.

You stay silent, your head resting on his shoulder, your hand instinctively clutching the lapel of his coat.

When you cross the threshold of the castle, the lower guard steps back in genuine awe. Demetri looks battle-worn, his clothes stained with travel, but the look in his eyes is one of absolute, terrifying triumph.

He takes you straight to his private quarters, locking the world away.

"Sleep," he murmurs, tucking you into heavy velvet furs. 

He doesn't leave your side. He sits on the edge of the bed, his hand locked firmly around your wrist. Even in sleep, your fingers curl around his, your silent surrender finally complete. 

You won't run again, not because you can't, but because the tracker has finally caught your heart.

xoxo aurelie

You turn immediately, a bright grin already forming. “Oh, there you are.”

Alec’s gaze shifts briefly to the faint scorch mark forming on the edge of the table. Then back to you.

“Behave.”

You look down at the fire in your hand, then back at him.

“I am behaving.”

The flame flares slightly, as if in protest.

Alec steps closer. “You are standing on a table.”

“Elevated perspective,” You say easily.

“You are holding fire in a library.”

“It’s controlled.”

“You said that last time.”

“And I was right,” You shoot back.

Alec stops at the edge of the table, looking up at you, not impressed, not angry. Unwavering.

The guard in the corner visibly relaxes now that Alec has arrived, though he does not dare leave.

You tilt your head down at Alec, studying him like you are deciding how much trouble you want to be in today.

“Are you going to make me get down?” you ask.

“Yes.”

You smile wider. “Or?”

Alec doesn’t blink. “Or I will come up there and remove you myself.”

That, predictably, delights you.

“I’d like to see that,” you say.

Alec moves. Fast enough that the air barely has time to notice.

One moment, he is below you. The next, he is standing on the table. Close. Very close.

The flame in your hand wavers, not from fear, but from the sudden shift in your focus.

“Oh,” you say softly, amused. “You did come up here.”

Alec doesn’t indulge your tone.

“Put it out,” he says.

You glance at the flame again, then back at him. “Make me.”

Alec exhales slowly through his nose. This again.

He reaches out, not to grab you, not to force anything, but to close his fingers loosely around your wrist.

Not restricting. 

Grounding.

Your fire reacts instantly, shrinking, flickering uncertainly. Not extinguished. 

Just… listening.

“You are testing limits that do not belong to you,” Alec says quietly.

You hold his gaze. “And you’re stopping me,” you repy, just as softly.

“Yes.”

The room feels smaller. The guard in the corner has gone completely still.

Your expression shifts, not losing its brightness, but softening at the edges where only Alec ever gets to see.

“You always do,” you murmur.

Alec doesn’t deny it.

The flame flickers once more. Then goes out. Just like that.

Silence settles back into the library, heavy and immediate.

Alec releases your wrist.

“Down,” he says.

You make a face, but step off the table anyway.

“That was harmless,” you mutter.

Alec steps down after you, adjusting nothing, as if he had never been out of place at all.

“That is not the standard,” he replies.

You glance sideways at him as you both start towards the exit.

“Your standards are very strict.”

“They are effective.”

You huff a quiet laugh. 

“You like me anyway,” you say.

Alec doesn’t look at you.

“Yes.”

Immediate. Certain.

That earns him a softer smile. 

You slip your hand into his without asking. 

He lets you.

You walk in silence for a moment before you speak again.

“If I set something on fire later,” you say casually, “you’ll come find me again, right?”

Alec’s grip tightens just slightly.

“I always do.”

You seem satisfied with that.

“Good,” you say.

Then, brighter, “I’ll try to make it interesting.”

Alec sighs.

“Behave.”

You grin.

“No promises.”

xoxo aurelie

You pause just beyond the archway, a slow grin spreading across your face as two guards go abruptly silent mid-conversation.

“Oh no,” you say, stepping into view. “Don’t stop on my account. I love gossip.”

Both guards stiffen immediately.

One tries to recover. “We weren’t…”

“Talking about me?” you finish sweetly.

A flicker of flame curls lazily around your fingers.

Not threatening.

Just present.

The second guard swallows. “We meant no disrespect.”

You tilt your head. “That’s a shame. I usually enjoy disrespect.”

Then, a third voice cuts in, cool, precise.

“You will enjoy silence more.”

Jane.

She appears without hurry, but the effect was immediate. The guards drop their gaze, tension snapping tight in the air.

Your smile shifts, less sharp now, more familiar.

“You heard that?” You ask.

“I hear everything worth hearing,” Jane replies.

Alec steps in beside her a moment later, his presence quieter, but heavier.

You glance between them, then back at the guards.

“They called me your mate,” You say, tone light but curious underneath.

Jane’s expression doesn’t change. “You are.”

Alec’s gaze rests on you. “It is accurate.”

You hum, considering that.

“They said it like it’s a threat.”

Jane’s lips curve slightly. “It is.”

That made you laugh.

Bright. Unbothered.

“Good,” you say. “I was hoping I had a reputation.”

Alec steps closer, his attention shifting fully to you now.

“You do,” he says.

You raise a brow. “Oh?”

“Unpredictable,” Jane adds.

“Uncontrolled,” Alec continues.

You fold your arms. “Rude.”

Jane’s gaze flicks over you. “Dangerous.”

Alec’s voice drops slightly. “Ours.”

That one lands differently.

Your expression softens, just for a second.

Then you grin again, wider this time.

“So what you’re saying,” you drawl, stepping closer into their space, “is that I’m terrifying by association.”

Jane tilts her head. “You were already terrifying.”

Alec doesn’t disagree.

You look between them, clearly pleased.

“I like the sound of that,” you say.

You reach out, catching Jane’s hand first, quick, impulsive, tugging her just slightly closer. Jane allows it without resistance.

Then your other hand finds Alec’s sleeve, fingers curling there easily.

“‘The Witch Twins’ mate,’” you repeat, testing the words.

Jane watches you carefully. “Does it bother you?”

You shake your head immediately. “No.”

You pause.

Then, softer.

“It kind of feels like I belong somewhere.”

Alec’s hand comes up, steady and familiar, to the back of your neck.

“You do,” he says.

Jane steps in closer on your other side, her presence just as grounding, but different, sharper, but no less certain.

“You belong with us,” Jane adds.

You exhale slowly, something in you settling.

Then, of course, you ruin the softness, just a little.

“So,” you say brightly, “does this mean I outrank everyone now?”

Jane’s expression goes flat. “No.”

Alec’s tone was just as calm. “Not us.”

You sigh dramatically. “Worth a try.”

But you don’t step away.

Don’t pull out of their space.

If anything, you lean in more, balanced between them, exactly where you were meant to be.

Behind them, the guards don’t dare speak again.

Not because of Alec.

Not because of Jane.

But because now they understand something much worse. 

You weren’t just with them.

You were part of them.

And somehow,

That made all three of you more dangerous.

xoxo aurelie

Caspian moves closer, slow enough not to startle you. Male sirens are larger, built for endurance and distance, not the delicate lure of their female counterparts. His presence can be overwhelming if he isn’t careful.

A hand closes around your wrist.

Firm. Unyielding.

“You’re fighting it,” he says.

His grip keeps you anchored when your body tries to twist away from itself.

“Don’t.”

Another presence circles behind you.

You don’t hear him approach. You feel him.

A brush of movement. A shift in the current.

Then, fingers, lighter, trailing along your spine where the change burns brightest.

Eerie murmurs, his voice softer, but edged with something sharper. 

“The body breaks before it becomes.”

Your eyes snap open.

For a moment, they are human, wide, searching, confused. Then the shift comes. The pupils stretch, the colour deepens, and something ancient flickers behind them.

You inhale sharply and panic.

Your hands fly to your throat, your body jerking upward as if trying to breach a surface that is no longer necessary.

“It’s all right,” Caspain murmurs, closing the distance now. “You don’t need air anymore.”

You don’t understand the words. Not yet. Their language still a stranger to you. But you understand the tone. Fear meets calm, and for a heartbeat, they hold you against each other.

Then you thrash.

They expect it.

Eerie pulls you into his arms, wrapping around you from behind, anchoring you against his chest, letting you feel something steady, something unyielding but not cruel.

You fight him at first. Of course you do.

But then, your movements falter.

The ocean is patient. It teaches quickly.

Your lungs don’t burn. Your chest doesn’t tighten. There is no suffocation waiting for you, no desperate need to reach a surface that has already lost its meaning.

Your panic has nowhere to go.

It unravels.

Slowly, you still in his arms.

“That’s it,” he says, softer now. “You’re safe.”

Safe.

Even the tide seems to hush at that as it slips between the rocks, dark water folding in on itself like something alive, something listening. The surface barely stirs, but beneath it, everything shifts.

You tremble between them.

“It hurts…” Your voice breaks into a thin, panicked breath. “Please, I can’t,”

“You can.”

They hold you firmly between them. Eerie’s arms braced around your shoulders and waist, Caspian locking your hands gently but securely so you can’t thrash against the stone. Their presence is solid, immovable, the kind that does not break, not even by the sea.

Their voice follows that same pattern. Calm. Certain.

The pain surges again, violent this time. 

Your legs jerk, muscles seizing as the bones beneath begin to fuse and reshape. The sound, faint, internal, wrong, makes you choke on a sob.

“Please… make it stop,”

“You know we can’t,” 

Another hand comes up to your shoulder, pressing you down gently as the water rises around you. Not forcing, guiding.

Holding.

Behind you, Eerie leans closer.

You feel his breath near your ear, cool, almost curious.

“You’re almost through it.”

“I’m not,” you gasp, body arching as the change tears through you again. “It’s getting worse.”

A second pair of hands slides over you, slower.

Reverent.

From behind, Eerie traces the line of your spine as it shudders, fingers lingering where the transformation hurts the most. There is a strange care in it, too attentive, too precise.

Caspian’s grip tightens again, not to hurt, but to steady you as your body convulses again, your legs pulling together, the last remnants of what you have been dissolving beneath glistening scales.

Your body lurches again, and this time you scream, raw and broken as your legs seal together completely, scales blooming across your skin in a ripple of dark, glistening colour.

Caspian moves instantly.

He pulls you against him, not roughly, but with undeniable strength, one arm bracing your back while the other holds your wrists still as they tremble and claw.

“Look at me.”

You can’t.

“I said, look at me.”

There is no anger in his voice. That makes it worse.

You force your eyes up.

“Breathe,” he says.

Behind you, Eerie’s hands slide along your sides, slow and deliberate, feeling the transformation as it settles, as if studying it.

“See?” Caspian murmurs. “It’s almost over.”

You shake your head weakly. “It doesn’t feel like it…”

They whisper to you, cutting you off, their voices overlapping around you, not raised, but threaded with something tight beneath the surface.

Possessive. Concerned. Shared.

Another wave of pain rips through you and ends the exchange entirely. You cry out, body curling inward, but you can’t escape it, can’t escape them.

They won’t let you.

“Look at me,” Caspian says again, firmer now.

You shake your head weakly, tears slipping into the water.

A hand, cool, careful, tilts your chin up.

Not his.

Eerie has moved closer again, just enough that you can feel him beside you now, not behind.

“Look,” he coaxes softly.

Between them. At them.

Your gaze lifts, unfocused at first, then catches.

They are both watching you.

Too closely.

Not just concern. Not just care.

Something deeper. Hungrier.

“You’re ours,” Eerie murmurs, almost gently. “Our pearl. You should see the moment you become it.”

Your breath hitches.

Caspian’s arm shifts around you, pulling you tighter against him as the final change begins, slower this time, but deeper. 

Your body lengthens, reshapes, and your tail forms fully beneath the surface in a powerful, fluid line.

You gasp, not from pain this time, but from the overwhelming wrongness of it.

Another wave hits.

But this time, it doesn’t tear through you.

It settles.

The pain dulls, draining out of you like ink into the sea, leaving behind something heavy. Strange. New.

Your body floats differently now.

Not resisting.

Belonging.

You go still in Caspian’s arms, your breathing uneven but slowing.

“I can’t feel my legs,” you whisper.

“You don’t have them anymore,” he says lightly.

Caspian adjusts his hold, more careful now, one hand supporting you as the water carries more of your weight.

His hand moves from your wrist to your back, broad palm pressing steadily and warm as if he can hold you together through sheer will.

Eerie’s fingers slide down along your new form again, less curious now, more certain.

Claiming.

“You feel that?” he asks softly.

You do.

The water holds you differently now. It doesn’t press, it welcomes. Your body responds without asking your permission, shifting, adjusting, belonging in a way that makes your chest tighten with something dangerously close to relief.

“…yes,” you whisper.

“There it is,” he says.

They both exhale, something easing in their posture for the first time.

“She’s through it.”

“Of course she is,” Caspian says, the eccentric gleam returning in his tone.

“Try moving,” he says.

You hesitate.

Behind you, Eerie’s hand slides down, guiding, not asking, until it rests along the length of your newly formed tail.

“Like this,” he murmurs.

He moves it slightly.

Your body follows.

You gasp.

The motion is smooth.

Effortless.

Wrong, but right in a way that makes your chest tighten.

“There,” he says quietly. “You feel it.”

You nod faintly, eyes wide.

His grip lingers a moment longer than necessary before releasing, drifting back into the darker water behind you.

Watching. Waiting.

Caspian loosens his hold, giving you space while staying close enough to catch you again if fear returns. 

You don’t bolt this time.

Instead, you look at your hands.

Webbing stretches between your fingers, delicate and translucent. You flex them, watching how the water moves differently around you now. Your tail flicks, tentative, curious.

Confusion replaces terror.

Better.

Caspian reaches out, slowly, letting you see the movement before he makes contact. His fingers brush yours, guiding your hand through the water.

You swallow hard. “I don’t… feel like me.”

Eerie’s hands return, and he doesn’t let go.

“You are.” he says.

Caspian tilts his head, voice threading through the water again.

“Just different.”

Silence folds in around them.

The cove, the dark water, the slow pull of the tide, it all feels closer now. Like it is listening.

Your fingers twitch, but they are still holding you, one solid and grounding, the other light but ever-present, never quite letting you drift too far.

Suddenly, your eyes widen.

A new feeling. 

A different kind of breath catches in your chest, something closer to wonder.

They feel a faint pull then.

Not physical.

Something deeper. 

The bond.

It forms the moment you change, a tether between the three of you, quiet but undeniable. 

They felt it before you even opened your eyes, a sudden awareness, like a third heartbeat that wasn’t their own.

Now you feel it too.

Your gaze snaps to theirs.

There it is, recognition without understanding.

They give you a small, reassuring smile.

“I know,” Eerie says. “It’s strange.”

You drift closer this time, not out of fear, but curiosity. The space between them shrinks until their foreheads nearly touch yours.

The bond pulses.

A flicker of sensation passes between them, Eerie’s calm, Caspian’s excitement, your uncertainty, shared in a way that has nothing to do with words.

Your expression softens.

Not fully. Not completely.

But enough.

The tide begins to pull you inward, then, deeper into the cove where the light doesn’t reach at all. The water closes over you slowly, like a curtain.

You tense, but neither of them lets go.

“Easy,” Eerie murmurs.

“Let it take you,” Caspian adds.

Between them, held on both sides, you let the water carry you.

And this time, you don’t fight it.

Behind you, their voices drop low, just beneath the surface, meant for each other now.

“She’ll adjust quickly.”

“She has to.”

There’s a pause.

Then, quieter still, “She’s perfect like this.”

There’s a soft hum of agreement.

“Better.”

Their hands never leave you as they thread their fingers through each other's, disappearing fully into the dark.

And though the pain is gone, replaced by the slow, strange rhythm of the sea inside you, their hold doesn’t loosen. 

If anything, 

It settles.

xoxo aurelie

"You're so bright," he whispers, the sound barely a ripple in the air. "It’s almost a pity."

You stir, your eyes fluttering open. Seeing him there doesn't startle you. You simply reach out, your hand finding his cold one and pulling it to your cheek.

"Peter," you murmur, your voice thick with sleep. "Did you find the star I asked for?"

"The stars are busy tonight," he says, his voice dropping into that smooth, manipulative honey. "But I found something better."

He pulls a small, delicate bracelet from his pocket. It is woven from golden vines that only grow in the heart of the island, vines that never wilt and are nearly impossible to break.

"Oh, it’s lovely!" you exclaim, sitting up and brushing your messy hair from your face. You hold out your wrist, completely oblivious to the weight of the gift. "Is it magic?"

"In a way," Pan says. He kneels before you, his fingers nimble and sure as he fastens the gold around your wrist. As the clasp clicks shut, a faint green light pulses through the vines before fading into the metal.

"It’s so I can always find you. No matter where you wander on my island, I’ll know exactly where your heart is beating."

You laugh, the sound bright and jarring in the eerie quiet of the night. "You’re so silly, Peter. I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere."

"No," he says, his grip on your wrist tightening just a fraction too much, his eyes flashing with a dark, possessive fire. "You aren't. Not ever."

He climbs into the hollow beside you, pulling you back against him. He likes the way you feel, small and warm against his cold, eternal stillness. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling the scent of wild jasmine and the sea. You lean your head back against his shoulder, watching the moon through the branches.

"The island feels happy tonight," you remark, patting his arm. "The trees are humming."

"The island is happy because I am happy," Pan corrects. He closes his eyes, his arms winding around you like a vice.

He doesn't care if you understand the darkness of his love. He doesn't care if you see the bars of the cage he is building around you. In his mind, your lightness is a resource to be hoarded, a flame he will keep behind glass so the wind can never blow it out.

"Go back to sleep, little bird," he commands softly. "I'll be here when you wake. And the day after that. And every day until the sun forgets to rise."

You sigh contentedly, closing your eyes, safe in the arms of the boy who will never let the world have you back. And Pan stays awake, listening to the golden vine around your wrist hum in perfect synchronisation with his own dark heart.

xoxo aurelie

The shout cracks through the corridor like lightning.

He didn’t have time to react.

You collide into him at full force.

Not an attack. Not even close.

An impact of pure momentum and zero restraint. Arms wrapping tightly around him, nearly knocking him a step back as you cling to him like you have no intention of ever letting go again.

“You’re back,” you say, breathless, like you’ve been holding it for hours. “You’re actually back.”

Alec goes still for half a second.

Then, his arms come up automatically, steadying you before you could lose your balance.

“I said I would return,” he replies.

“Yeah, well,” you mutter into his shoulder, tightening your grip, “people say things all the time.”

Your voice isn’t loud.

That alone told him everything he needed to know.

Alec glances down at you.

You didn’t even try to pretend otherwise, face pressing against him, fingers curling into the fabric at his back, as if he might disappear again if you loosen your grip.

“You were gone for three days,” you add.

“It was two,” he corrects. 

“Felt like five.”

“That is not how time works.”

“Shut up.”

There’s a beat.

Your hold tightens again.

“I missed you,” you say, quieter now.

Simple.

Unfiltered.

No chaos. No teasing.

Just truth.

Something in Alec shifts.

Not visibly, but enough.

“I was not in danger,” he says.

“I know that.”

“Then there was no cause for concern.”

“I didn’t say I was concerned,” you scoff, pulling back just enough to look at him. “I said I missed you. Different thing.”

He studies your face.

There was faint signs of restlessness, like you’d been pacing, waiting, burning off energy with no-where to put it. 

But, your eyes were steady.

Focused on him.

“You did not remain occupied,” he observes.

“I tried,” you say. “Jane got annoyed at me after, like, a day.” (Which was, honestly, impressive.)

“And the rest?”

You shrug. “Everything’s less interesting when you’re not here.”

Alec raises a brow slightly.

“That is unproductive.”

“It’s honest.”

Before he could respond, you step forward again, this time slower, and wrap your arms around him once more.

Not crashing into him.

Choosing it.

Your cheek rests against his chest, your grip firm but less desperate now.

Grounded.

Alec hesitates for only a moment this time.

Then, his hand settles against your back. 

Steady. Deliberate.

“You are very attached today,” he says.

“Mhm.”

“That could be considered a weakness.”

“Or,” you counter, voice muffled slightly, “a very good reason for you to come back.”

He pauses, then shifts his hand slightly against your back, a small, absent movement, almost a reassurance.

“I would return regardless,” he says.

“Yeah,” you reply softly. “But now you’ve got someone waiting.”

Silence stretches between you.

Not empty.

Heavy. 

But comfortable. 

You pull back just enough to look up at him again, your usual spark returning, but softer around the edges.

“You smell like outside,” you say suddenly.

Alec blinks once.

“That is accurate.”

“I like it.”

“That is irrelevant.”

“Nothing about me is irrelevant,” you shoot back automatically.

He pauses again. 

“That is also accurate,” he admits.

Your grin breaks through then; bright, chaotic, familiar.

“I missed you.”

“I was gone for two days.”

“Still counts.”

You couldn’t help yourself, “Did you at least think about me while you were gone?”

Alec looks at you.

Really looks.

“Yes,” he says.

No hesitation.

That caught you off guard.

“Oh.”

Your expression softens, genuine, a little surprised.

“Good,” you say, quieter now.

Then, just as quickly, the chaos slips back in.

“Because I definitely thought about you. A lot. Like, an unreasonable amount. It was borderline embarrassing.”

“I can believe that.”

“Rude.”

But you were smiling.

Still close.

Still not letting go completely.

Alec didn’t try to make you.

xoxo aurelie

You burst into the clearing of the camp, but the Lost Boys were nowhere to be seen, likely cowering in the caves to escape Pan’s localised wrath. 

In the centre of the camp, standing perfectly still while the world tore itself apart around him, was Peter Pan.

He stands with his back to you, his green tunic damp, his shadow stretching out unnaturally long and jagged across the dirt. He looks like a god of ruin.

Another bolt of lightning struck a tree barely twenty feet away, the scent of ozone and burning wood filling the air. With a small cry of genuine terror, you bolt. You didn't think, you just acted on pure instinct, sprinting across the clearing and throwing yourself at him.

You crash into his back, your arms wrapping tightly around his waist, your face buried between his shoulder blades. You were trembling, your heart hammering a frantic rhythm against his spine.

The effect was instantaneous.

The howling wind dies down to a low whistle. The violent rain slows to a soft, rhythmic pattern. The oppressive weight in the air evaporates, replaced by a sudden, eerie stillness.

Peter doesn’t move for a long moment. He looks down at your hands clasped over his stomach. A slow, dark smile spreads across his face, not one of comfort, but of supreme, terrifying triumph. He loves it when the world scares you, because it drives you straight into the cage of his arms.

He turns slowly within your grasp, peeling you off his back only to tuck you firmly against his chest. He hooks a finger under your chin, forcing you to look up at him. Your eyes are wide and watery, a stark contrast to his, which were cold and calculating.

"There you are," he murmurs, his voice a low hum that vibrates through your chest. "Back where you belong."

"The sky... it was breaking," you whisper, clutching the front of his tunic. Your eccentric bravado has vanished, leaving only the fragile girl he works so hard to keep dependent.

"The sky does what I tell it to do," Peter says softly, his hand sliding into your hair and gripping just firmly enough to let you know you weren't going anywhere. He leans down, his nose brushing against yours.

"Are you frightened, little bird?"

"Yes," you admit, shivering.

"Good," he whispers, his thumb tracing the curve of your bottom lip. His gaze was obsessive, drinking in the sight of your vulnerability. He didn't want to soothe your fear so much as he wanted to be the only thing that could protect you from it.

"Remember this feeling," he warns, his voice dropping to a haunting, melodic tone. 

"The world is a cruel, dark place. The stars are cold, and the shadows have teeth. But here, with me? You're the safest thing in existence. Because the monsters are all afraid of me."

You nod, leaning your head against his heart. You can’t hear a heartbeat, just the faint, rhythmic ticking of a clock that didn't exist. To you, it was the sound of home. To him, it was the sound of a trap finally snapping shut.

He wraps his cloak around you, shielding you from the dying rain, his eyes watch the tree-line with a predatory glint. 

He has you right where he wants you: terrified of everything but him.

xoxo aurelie

A flicker of amusement touches Alec’s expression, but only briefly. “You are not required to be here.”

“And yet,” you say brightly, “I am.”

He turns down another corridor. You follow immediately.

“I am on duty,” he adds.

“Yeah, I gathered that from the whole ‘intense brooding patrol walk’ thing you’ve got going on.”

“It is not,”

“It is,” you cut in, pointing at him. “Very dramatic. Ten out of ten. A little intimidating. I respect it.”

Alec stops walking.

You take two more steps before realising, then pivot back to face him, grinning like you’d just won something.

“You stopped,” you say. 

“Yes.”

“Because of me?”

“Yes.”

“Progress.”

Alec stares at you.

“You are a distraction.”

“Thank you,” you grin. 

“That was not a compliment.”

“It is in my world.”

He resumes walking.

You fall into step instantly.

“Okay, serious question,” you continue, undeterred. “What do you actually do on these patrols? Because from what I’ve seen, it’s a lot of walking and glaring.”

“We ensure order is maintained,” Alec responds. 

You nod thoughtfully. “So… walking and glaring.”

“And observing.”

“Oooh,” you say, impressed. “Multi-tasking.”

A guard at the end of the hall straightens as you both approach.

You wave.

The guard does not wave back.

“Your co-workers are weird,” you stage-whisper.

“They are not my co-workers.”

“They absolutely are.”

“They are subordinates.”

“That’s even worse.”

Alec ignores that.

You turn another corner, deeper into the quieter parts of the castle. Fewer torches. Fewer people.

You glance around, then lean in closer.

“Do you ever get bored?” you ask.

“No.”

“That’s a lie.”

“It is not.”

You study his face, searching. “You don’t look bored,” you admit. “You just look… permanently unimpressed.”

“That is accurate.”

You laugh.

A small spark flickers at your fingertips, absentmindedly, restless. It dances there as you talk, rising and falling with your energy.

Alec notices.

“Control,” he says without looking at you.

“I am controlling it.”

The flame pops slightly, growing an inch taller.

Alec stops again.

You groan. “Oh, come on, that was barely anything.”

“It is unnecessary.”

“It’s expressive.”

“It is fire.”

“Details.”

He turns to face you fully now, his presence settling over the space like a quiet weight.

He says your name. 

You still.

The flame dims.

“Focus,” he says.

You hold his gaze for a second, then sigh dramatically.

“Fine.”

The fire vanishes.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” you mutter, then brighten immediately. “Okay, next question, how old are you, actually? Because you’ve got this whole ‘ancient vampire teenager’ thing going on, and I need numbers.”

Alec blinks once.

“No.”

“No?”

“No.”

“Not even a range?”

“No.”

“Rude.”

He resumes walking.

You follow.

“Are you always this difficult?” you press.

“Yes.”

“I like that.”

“I am aware.”

You grin sideways at him. “You’re getting used to me.”

“I am tolerating you.”

“Same difference.”

“It is not.”

“It is to me.”

Silence grows.

Then…

“Do you like anything?” You ask suddenly.

Alec glances at you. “Explain.”

“Like, anything. Food, obviously not. Sunlight, also no. Hobbies? Interests? Secret passions? Do you, like, collect things? Read? Judge people recreationally?”

“I do not judge people recreationally.”

You give him a look. “You absolutely do.”

“That is not a hobby.”

“It is if you enjoy it.”

Alec exhales softly.

“Do you intend to continue this?” he asks.

“Oh, definitely.”

“For how long?”

You beam.

“Until you tell me something real about you.”

There’s a pause.

“You have not stopped talking,” he points out.

“And yet, you haven’t made me leave.”

That was true.

Alec slows slightly, not enough to be obvious, but enough that you don’t have to match his pace as carefully.

“I am working,” he says.

“Yeah,” you reply, softer now. “I know.”

For once, your voice didn’t fill the entire corridor.

It stays close. Contained.

“Does it bother you?” you ask, “Me being here.”

Alec looks ahead.

“No.”

You blink, surprised.

“Really?”

“Yes.”

A small smile tugs at the corners of your mouth.

“Cool,” you say quietly.

The silence that follows isn’t forced this time.

It stretches between you, not empty, just different, comfortable.

You walk like that for a while.

Then, inevitably…

“What’s your favourite colour?” 

You break it.

Alec closes his eyes briefly.

And keeps walking.

xoxo aurelie

“Look at me.”

“I am looking at you,” you snap, then immediately flinch at your own tone, tears catching harder. “I am… I am trying.”

Your breathing was uneven now. Overloaded.

“I can’t think properly,” you whisper, more to yourself than him. “It won’t slow down.”

Alec steps closer.

You step back instantly.

“No,” you say, sharper. “Don’t touch me right now.”

He stops immediately.

No frustration. No pressure.

Just stillness.

“I understand,” he says quietly.

That only makes you cry harder.

“I don’t want this,” you say, voice breaking. “I don’t want my head like this.”

Alec watches you for a long moment.

Then he makes a choice.

Not physical yet.

Just a shift in presence.

“There is another way,” he says.

You shake your head quickly. “No. No, I don’t want whatever you’re about to say.”

“It will quiet it.”

“I don’t want to lose control,” you say immediately, panicked now. “I don’t want to be put under your gift.”

There’s a long pause.

Then Alec’s voice softens, but stays absolute.

“You will not lose yourself,” he says.

“That’s not what it feels like.”

“I will be here,” he says.

That makes you hesitate for the first time.

Not calm.

Just stuck between fear and exhaustion.

Alec steps forward slowly now, not closing the distance fully, just enough that you can see him clearly through the noise in your head.

“You are overwhelmed,” he says. “You are not unsafe with me.”

Your breath hitches.

“I don’t like it,” you whisper.

“I know.”

Another pause.

“I am your mate.”

That makes you look up.

Tearful. Fractured. Listening despite everything.

“You are mine,” he says simply.

Not possessive in a way that pushed.

In a way that anchored.

A truth he was offering you to hold onto.

“Trust me,” he adds.

Your lips tremble.

“I can’t think,” you admit. 

“Then do not,” Alec says quietly. “Just focus on me.”

You breathe.

“I will keep you safe,” he continues. “I will take care of you.”

Your hands shake at your sides.

The overstimulation doesn’t stop but it has something to collide with now. Something steady. Something unmovable.

Alec opens his arms.

Not reaching for you.

Waiting.

“I will not let you go,” he says.

Silence stretches.

You stand there, crying quietly now, torn between instinct and exhaustion.

Then you move.

Slowly.

You step into him.

Alec catches you immediately, arms closing around you with absolute steadiness. No force. No pressure. Just containment.

Your forehead presses into his chest.

“I don’t like this,” you whispers again, broken.

“I know,” he replies softly.

His hand comes to the back of your head, holding you there gently.

“Are you ready?” he asks.

There’s a distinct pause, a waiting.

“…I trust you.”

That was enough.

Alec’s power settles over you; his sensory deprivation gift, the mist, unfolding like a controlled silence.

The world didn’t go dark violently.

It faded.

Sound thinning first.

Then weight.

Then thought itself losing its tension.

You tense for half a second. 

The fear of losing control flaring. 

“I’m here,” Alec says immediately, his voice the only thing left solid enough to reach you. “Focus on me.”

Your fingers tighten weakly in his clothing.

And then, nothing pressed in anymore.

No sound. 

No smell. 

No sight. 

No touch. 

No flicker of thought spiraling out of control.

Just Alec.

Holding you.

“I’ve got you,” he says quietly. 

And finally, you let go into the silence.

xoxo aurelie