The first rays of sunlight painted the New Orleans skyline in gold and rose. In the quiet luxury of the Continental suite, Rebekah Mikaelson awoke, tangled in silk sheets and the memory of a night unlike any she had ever known.
She lay still for a moment, savoring the warmth of Sagar's body beside hers, the steady rise and fall of his breath. Her mind replayed flashes of the night before—his hands, his lips, the way he made her laugh and tremble and feel alive in ways she'd only dreamed. For centuries, she had watched the world change, longing for connection but always keeping her heart guarded. This night was different. This was her first time—her first surrender to passion, trust, and the wild joy of being chosen for herself, not her legend.
Sagar stirred, turning to face her. His eyes, now unmasked and open, held that same glint of mischief and ancient wisdom. He brushed a strand of hair from her cheek, his touch gentle and unhurried.
"Good morning, Rebekah," he murmured, voice low and intimate.
She smiled, stretching languidly. "Good morning. I—" She hesitated, suddenly shy. "Last night was… special."
He grinned, pressing a kiss to her shoulder. "You were magnificent."
For a while, they lay together in comfortable silence, the world outside forgotten. But as the morning light grew brighter, a sense of déjà vu tugged at Rebekah's thoughts. She studied Sagar's face, the curve of his lips, the depth in his eyes. Something about him felt impossibly familiar, as if she had known him long before last night.
A memory surfaced—hazy at first, then sharp as crystal. A garden, moonlight, the scent of roses. A masked stranger offering her a single, enchanted bloom. His words echoing in her mind: "Maybe it's time someone wrote their own story."
She sat up, heart pounding. "It was you," she whispered. "All those years ago. In the garden at our estate… you gave me a rose."
Sagar's smile softened, a trace of nostalgia in his gaze. "You remember."
"I never forgot the feeling," she admitted, wonder and awe in her voice. "But I couldn't remember your face, or your name. Only the magic. Only the way you made me feel—seen, and free."
He reached for her hand, threading their fingers together. "Some connections are too strong for time or magic to erase."
Rebekah's eyes shimmered with emotion. "Why did you disappear?"
Sagar shrugged, his expression both playful and sincere. "I go where the story takes me. But I always come back for the interesting chapters."
She laughed, the sound bright and unburdened. "So what are we, then? Lovers? Friends? Something else?"
He squeezed her hand. "Why choose? We can be all of it—or none. Friends with benefits, if you like. No rules, just honesty and fun."
She considered, then nodded, a mischievous smile curving her lips. "I like the sound of that. No promises, no heartbreak—just us, whenever the mood strikes."
Sagar leaned in, kissing her softly. "Exactly. And whenever you need a little chaos, you know where to find me."
They dressed slowly, sharing stolen kisses and laughter, relishing the freedom of their new arrangement. As they left the suite, Rebekah felt changed—bolder, lighter, and more herself than she had been in centuries.
Outside, the city bustled with secrets and possibilities. For Rebekah Mikaelson, the world was suddenly full of promise—and for Sagar, the game was more interesting than ever.
Neither knew what the future would bring, but for now, they had each other, and that was enough.