Night air smelled of pine and blood.
We fed quiet. Fast. Clean. Had to be.
Two travelers. Wrong place, wrong time. Dropped where they stood.
I wiped blood off my lips—then heard it.
A breath. Sharp. Shaky.
Someone was watching.
I turned slow.
A young man stood at the edge of the trees. Frozen white. Eyes wide with the kind of fear that makes most people run screaming.
He didn't run.
He bowed instead.
"Forgive me," he said, voice trembling but steady. "I saw nothing. Just fine folk enjoying their… wine."
Kol chuckled. Rebekah raised an eyebrow. Elijah watched him sharp.
I stepped forward.
"You did see it all." I paused. "And yet you didn't run. Why?"
He swallowed, then stood straight.
"Because I know when a secret's worth keeping. And when loyalty beats fear."
I smiled.
"Name?"
"Lucien Castle." He breathed out. "Servant to House de Martel."
Oh. Very interesting.
The Invitation
Lucien turned out to be useful. Not strong, not high-ranking—but he noticed things. And noticing is rare.
Next evening, we stepped into another world.
Thick stone walls, torchlight, gold and silk. Nobility. Or the fake version of it.
"Stick close, do as I do," Lucien whispered.
We didn't need the warning. We already knew the game. Mikael taught us well—Elijah perfected it.
We walked in like we belonged there.
House de Martel
The Count greeted us first—polite, careful, curious.
His son Tristan just watched. Calculating. Suspicious.
None of that mattered.
Because then she walked in.
Aurora
The room shifted. Not loud, not dramatic—but you felt it.
Candlelight caught her hair like fire. She moved easy, like she didn't even know how much power she held.
"Aurora," the Count said. "My daughter."
She curtsied—graceful, but no bowing and scraping.
"Welcome," she said, light but sharp. "We rarely get such… unusual guests."
Unusual. She didn't know what we were—but she knew we weren't like them. Smart.
I nodded. "The pleasure's all mine."
Our eyes locked. For a second, nothing else existed. Not lust, not anything—just recognition.
The Table
Dinner was exactly what I expected: fake laughs, too much wine, polite lies.
Kol leaned over to Rebekah. "French nobles. At least they're nicer to look at than the lot back home."
She elbowed him. Elijah ignored them both.
Aurora didn't ignore me. She watched—quiet, steady, curious.
Good.
The Garden
She slipped out first. No fuss, no excuse. Just gone.
I followed.
The garden was quiet. Real.
She stood by the roses, brushing the petals like she was thinking hard—or pretending to.
"You don't fit in there either," she said, not turning around.
I smirked. "That obvious?"
She glanced back, eyes sharp. "Only if you're looking for it."
I stepped closer. "What do you see then?"
She studied me longer than most people dared.
"Someone putting on a show. And someone who's done pretending forever."
Perfect answer.
"My father wants me to smile, marry whoever's useful, stay locked inside these walls forever," she went on. "I don't want that."
She turned fully to me. "I want more."
No drama. Just honest.
"Freedom," I said.
Her face lit up. "Exactly."
For the first time, she smiled like she meant it. "What about you, Niklaus? What do you want?"
I didn't answer straight away. The truth was too big for her right now—but I gave her something real.
"I'm done being told what to do. Not by Father, not by Mother, not by anyone."
She stepped closer. "How d'you plan to stop them?"
I smiled small. "Take it."
Silence. Not empty—heavy, buzzing.
Then she laughed—soft, wild.
"You're dangerous."
I tilted my head. "And you're not scared."
"No," she said simply.
Another step closer. "Maybe I've been waiting for dangerous."