The first light of dawn painted the Salvatore Boarding House in shades of amber and gold, casting long shadows across the hardwood floors.
Lucien stood at his bedroom window, palm upturned, eyes focused on the jaguar mark.
Something felt wrong in the Force today - a distant disturbance, like ripples spreading across still water from an unseen stone.
He closed his eyes, trying to pinpoint the source, but it remained elusive, just beyond his perception.
A soft knock interrupted his concentration.
"Come in," he called, lowering his hand.
Sam appeared in the doorway, dark circles beneath his eyes suggesting he'd slept as little as Lucien had.
"Hey," Sam said, his voice carrying the faint awkwardness that had lingered between them since their conversation in the Impala. "Everyone's gathering downstairs. We need to figure out our plan for tomorrow."
Lucien nodded. "I'll be right there."
Sam hesitated, clearly wanting to say more, but instead just nodded and turned to leave.
"Sam," Lucien called after him. When his brother paused, Lucien was silent for a moment, before he scratched the back of his head and simply said, "Thanks."
Sam offered a small sad smile before disappearing down the hallway.
Lucien took one last look at the mark on his palm before following.
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The boarding house's main room had been transformed into a war council.
Maps of Mystic Falls covered every available surface, the town square and Founder's Hall marked with red circles.
Weapons were laid out on side tables - guns with consecrated iron rounds, silver knives, vials of holy water and salt.
John Winchester stood at the center of it all, his posture military-straight despite having been up most of the night.
Dean was methodically cleaning a shotgun, his movements practiced and precise.
Trevor sat cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by leather-bound journals that he has with him from his family's collection, occasionally making notes in a small notebook.
Zach Salvatore occupied an armchair in the corner, looking pale and shell-shocked.
'It seems he's still processing.' Lucien thought to himself, remembering their conversation yesterday when they told Zach the facts.
Lucien at first was hesitant, but after long reasoning about it, Zach did not give off any feeling or anything about either being complicit with the council out of his own desires or fear like Grayson.
He - despite being a vampire hunter - was the most normal out of any Council member Lucien met. He remembered how... off Mayor Lockwood felt, when he was around him.
Zach since they arrived her was in no way like that, he treated them really well actually.
'I suppose that's what happens when you learn that your family had participated in ritual sacrifice for generations.'
"There you are," John said as Lucien and Sam entered. "We need to-"
Before he could finish, Katherine materialized beside Lucien, her arm sliding around his shoulders with practiced familiarity.
"Good morning, my little god," she murmured, pressing a kiss to his temple. "Sleep well?"
Dean's jaw tightened visibly, but he said nothing, focusing instead on reassembling the shotgun with perhaps more force than necessary.
"Enough. It's time to focus," John said sharply, to everyone, but his tone was and gaze showed how it was directed especially towards Katherine and Dean.
He gestured to the largest map spread across the coffee table. "Based on what Grayson told Lucien, the ritual will take place at midnight during the lantern ceremony. Elena is the primary sacrifice, with others-" his eyes flicked briefly to Lucien's marked palm, "-serving as 'fuel.'"
"The ceremony happens at Founder's Hall," Zach added, his voice hollow. "All five founding families gather there after the public celebration. I always thought it was just... tradition." He laughed bitterly. "Turns out traditions in this town have teeth."
"And blood," Trevor muttered, not looking up from his journal.
"What exactly are we up against?" Sam asked, leaning against the doorframe. "Grayson mentioned an Aztec deity, but we need to know what that actually means."
Trevor flipped through his notebook. "The Belmont records mention Tezcatlipoca - 'The Smoking Mirror.' A god of night, sorcery, and judgment. Associated with jaguars." He looked up. "But nothing about rituals in Virginia. This shouldn't be here."
"The original settlers must have brought it somehow," John reasoned. "Or made contact after they arrived."
"The question is how we stop it," Dean interjected, setting the reassembled shotgun aside. "Silver bullets? Exorcism? Ritual reversal?"
"We need to understand the spell first," Sam said. "Otherwise, we can't even think about stopping this, since no myth says anything about Tezcatlipoca dying or even how."
"Doesn't matter, anything with a beginning is capable of having an end." Lucien said. "We just have to find what can bring it, and if there isn't anything particular, then we're going old school - just hitting the bastard real hard."
All eyes turned to him for a moment, taking in what Lucien said, Katherine humming to herself a bit, particularly delighted by Lucien's words, when finally John broke the silence.
"We need to be inside that ceremony," he suddenly said. "Which is where you come in, Zach."
All eyes turned to the last Salvatore, who straightened slightly under the attention.
"As a founding family member, I can bring guests," he confirmed. "It's expected, actually. The Council will be suspicious if I don't, especially with you guys living here at the moment."
"So we attend as Zach's guests, disrupt the ritual, kill the monsters that get in our, and get Elena and Lucien out," Dean summarized. "Simple enough."
"When has anything ever been that simple for us?" Sam asked dryly.
The planning continued, growing increasingly detailed and grim. Contingencies were mapped, escape routes memorized, weapons assigned.
"This is all very doom and gloom," Katherine suddenly announced, breaking a momentary silence. She rose gracefully from where she'd been perched. "But we're forgetting something crucial."
John looked up from the town map he'd been studying. "What's that?"
"Appearances," Katherine said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "We need to blend in at the Founder's Day celebration. Which means-" a smile spread across her face as she rose her hand pointing upward, "-shopping trip!"
Dean rolled his eyes. "Seriously? We're about to crash a satanic fucking ritual run by a town's founding families, and you're worried about what we're wearing?"
Katherine moved with vampire speed, suddenly appearing behind the couch where Lucien sat. She wrapped her arms around him from behind, resting her chin on his head.
"Of course I am," she said, pressing a kiss to his temple. "I can't wait to dress you up. You'd look absolutely adorable in a proper suit." Her fingers played with his hair as she added, "Maybe navy blue to bring out your eyes?"
Lucien remained still in her embrace, his expression carefully neutral despite the affection.
"There's no need for that," Dean said flatly. "We have our own suits. FBI-grade."
Katherine gave him a bored look, her eyebrow arching elegantly. "Yes, those polyester nightmares you call formal wear. Tell me, Dean, do you buy them in bulk from the 'Discount Federal Agent' catalog, or do you just grab whatever smells least offensive from the motel lost-and-found?"
Lucien shifted in Katherine's embrace, looking up at her. "I don't want to owe you for clothes," he said cautiously. "I'm not interested in being in your debt."
Katherine's expression shifted from playful to genuinely surprised. For a moment, she simply stared at him, then burst into laughter, hugging him tighter against her.
"Oh, my darling little god," she said, her voice warm with affection. "You think you'd need to pay me back? This is an offering."
She pressed another kiss to his hair. "Besides, do you have any idea how much money I have? A few thousand dollars for clothes is like..." she waved her hand dismissively, "pocket change."
Sam, who had been leaning against the wall watching this exchange with a complicated expression - part discomfort, part guilt as he recalled his conversation with Lucien in the Impala, since he knew Katherine was constantly "showing" how Lucien is number one for her - finally spoke up.
"Just how rich are you, Katherine?" he asked, his tone deliberately casual, actually a bit interested.
Katherine smiled proudly, settling herself more comfortably behind Lucien, her arms still draped possessively around him.
"There's no point in counting it anymore," she replied, a hint of smugness in her voice. "I've accumulated wealth across centuries, spread across continents. Properties, investments, art collections, offshore accounts..."
She shrugged elegantly. "I'm richer than the richest person known to the world. Kings would envy my fortune."
Her fingers traced patterns on Lucien's shoulder as she added, "Any immortal worth their salt never has problems with money. It's just a matter of planning and patience."
Dean's expression was a mixture of disgust and - though he'd never admit it - a flicker of impressed surprise.
"Right," he scoffed. "I'm sure you earned every penny legitimately. Nothing to do with compelling people or stealing."
Katherine's playful demeanor vanished, replaced by cool irritation. "Get off your high horse, Winchester. I know exactly how hunters finance their little crusades."
Her eyes narrowed. "Credit card fraud, pool hustling, poker scams. Mine is just on a grander scale." She tilted her head, studying him. "Hypocrisy doesn't suit you, Dean."
The tension in the room thickened as Dean opened his mouth to retort, but John cut him off.
"Enough," he said firmly. "If Katherine wants to buy clothes to help us blend in, fine. We need every advantage tomorrow."
Katherine's triumphant smile returned as she rested her chin atop Lucien's head once more, the picture of contentment despite the dangerous mission ahead.
"Perfect," she purred. "I know just the boutique in Richmond. They'll open after hours for the right price."
-----------------------
The boutique was all polished wood and soft lighting, mannequins draped in fabrics that cost more than most people made in a month.
The owner, a petite woman with silver-streaked hair, hovered nervously as Katherine swept through the racks.
"The burgundy silk for Mr. Winchester," she instructed, pulling out a dress shirt. "And the charcoal suit - yes, that one."
John stood stiffly as the tailor took measurements, his expression making it clear that he'd rather be facing a wendigo than enduring this.
"Is this really necessary?" he muttered as Katherine circled him critically.
"Absolutely," she replied, adjusting his collar. "The Council will notice every detail. Founding families and their guests are expected to look the part."
Across the store, Dean was having a similar experience, scowling as a young woman measured his inseam.
"Easy there," he warned as the measuring tape came dangerously close to sensitive areas.
Sam, surprisingly, seemed the most at ease, his height and build fitting naturally into the formal wear Katherine had selected.
Trevor, meanwhile, stood awkwardly in a tailored suit that transformed him from scruffy hunter to something approaching aristocratic - a shadow of his Belmont heritage showing through.
But it was Lucien who received Katherine's most devoted attention. She flitted around him like a hummingbird, adjusting sleeves, evaluating colors, tilting his chin to see how fabrics complemented his eyes.
"Perfect," she breathed when he emerged in a black suit that had been expertly altered in record time. Her fingers brushed his shoulders, smoothing nonexistent wrinkles. "You look like royalty."
Lucien studied his reflection. "It'll work as a cover," he acknowledged pragmatically.
Katherine smiled, a genuine expression that reached her eyes. For a fleeting moment, she looked almost human - a teenage girl excited about fashion rather than a centuries-old predator.
The illusion shattered when she leaned down to whisper in his ear, "Every god needs proper vestments," her lips brushing his skin in a way that made Dean clear his throat loudly from across the room.
"Ice cream," Katherine announced as they exited the boutique, shopping bags in hand. She pointed across the street to a small parlor with a striped awning. "When was the last time any of you had proper gelato?"
Without waiting for an answer, she grabbed Lucien's hand and pulled him toward the shop, her movements suddenly youthful and eager.
"Is she serious?" Dean muttered, watching them go.
"Apparently," John replied, his expression unreadable as he followed.
-----------------------
The scene inside the ice cream parlor was surreal—hunters, a vampire, and whatever Lucien could be called - seated at colorful tables under cheerful lighting.
Katherine ordered a sample of nearly every flavor, her eyes closing in pleasure as she tasted each one.
"The pistachio is divine," she declared, offering her spoon to Lucien. "Try it."
Lucien hesitated, then accepted the taste, aware of the hunters' watchful eyes.
"It's good," he agreed, reaching for his own cup of chocolate.
An unusual quiet settled over their table as they ate, the normalcy of the moment creating its own tension, since none of them were used to this, and were wondering what Katherine's angle was.
Lucien though was the one who guessed it best, 'She's trying to lighten the mood before battle, helping us relax a bit, to focus tomorrow. More importantly though, she is trying to not only "tell" about Katerina, the girl she is deep down, but actually show me, and while at it all, enjoy herself."
"You know," Katherine said, breaking the silence as she savored another spoonful, "this reminds me of the first time I tasted gelato in Italy. So much better than what passed for frozen treats in my human days."
She smiled at the memory, twirling her spoon thoughtfully. "I've seen so many changes over the centuries. Foods, fashions, empires rising and falling." Her expression grew distant. "Some experiences stand out more than others, though."
Her eyes refocused on Lucien. "Like Vienna, 1793," she continued, setting her spoon down. "There was this particularly unpleasant count who took an interest in me. The kind of man who thought his title gave him ownership rights over everyone beneath him."
Her voice took on a storyteller's cadence, her hands moving expressively as she described the count's misdeeds. "He forced the baker to knead bread for twelve hours straight without so much as a sip of water," she said, rolling her eyes.
"The stable boys were whipped for daring to let a single horse wander out of line. And the maids - oh, the maids - he believed that their smiles were property, insisting they curtsy before breakfast and serenade him while he dined."
She leaned closer to Lucien, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "And, of course, he thought that his title allowed him to take liberties with any young lady in his household - or anyone who crossed his path, really."
"So what did you do?" Trevor asked despite himself, drawn into the tale.
Katherine's smile turned sharp. "I paid him a midnight visit and compelled him to indulge his worst vices until his heart gave out. Three days later, they found him surrounded by empty wine bottles, remnants of opium, and four of his favorite mistresses - all of them quite exhausted but very well compensated."
"Let me guess," Lucien said dryly, "your intervention was out of the pure goodness of your heart?"
Katherine laughed, genuine amusement lighting her features as she leaned down to kiss his cheek. "You know me so well," she admitted. "The truth is, he was becoming inconvenient. His obsession was nearing me, and making it difficult for me to move freely in Viennese society."
She launched into another tale - outwitting witch hunters in Salem, stealing a famous painting for the thrill, encountering Mozart at a Vienna opera house.
Her stories though were carefully curated, avoiding mentions of innocent victims or the darker aspects of her past- not wanting to make her Lulu have a bad outlook toward her.
Throughout her storytelling, the hunters exchanged glances, surprised by how she was acting, so relaxed, at ease, excited, and in a way that didn't give them the creeps - completely different from the vampire they knew.
Katherine noticed this but didn't care, her focus was on Lucien, and whether he admitted it or not, he was geniunely actually beginning to enjoy himself as a slight smile had appeared on his face, actually interested in the history she was describing.
Trevor occasionally though challenged details based on his family's historical records, creating brief moments of tension that Katherine deflected with practiced charm. "You weren't there," she reminded him after one such correction. "I was."
"My family has kept accurate records for centuries," Trevor countered, a bit annoyed at her even hinting at his family having recorded in wrongly.
Katherine's smile was condescending. "History is written by the survivors, little Belmont. And I've survived a very long time."
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Evening had fallen by the time they returned to the Salvatore Boarding House, arms laden with shopping bags. Zach greeted them at the door, his expression grave.
"I've been going through old family journals, and by old, I mean very old, looking for anything about the ritual. I had to turn the whole place upside down to find these." he said without preamble.
"Find anything useful?" John asked, setting down his bags.
Zach nodded grimly. "Descriptions - not really detailed, but... enough of past ceremonies. It's... worse than I imagined."
"Get some rest," John finally ordered as midnight approached. "Tomorrow will test all of us."
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Miles away though, at the border of Virginia, something else was going on.
A tall blonde woman stood facing an invisible boundary.
Skögul, Valkyrie of Hela's court, observed the thick miasma of power that marked Klaus's echoes.
Her modern clothing couldn't disguise her warrior's bearing.
She hesitated at the boundary, hand hovering at the edge of the miasma. Her expression revealed conflict - crossing this line meant possibly alerting and thereby challenging one who had devoured gods.
The memory of Queen Hela's command though echoed in her mind: "Bring me the boy marked by life. The one who brings light where there was none."
With determination hardening her features, Skögul stepped forward into the miasma.
The barrier swirled around her like hungry smoke, but she continued walking.
Finally she past it, as behind her, the boundary sealed itself once more.
Ahead now lay Mystic Falls, the boy her queen desired, and the event called Founder's Day.
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(Author note: Hello everyone! I hope you all liked the chapter.
So, next chapter finally Founder's Day will begin. But that's not all, apparently a Valkyrie is on the way too.
Do tell me how you think that's gonna end.
Also, how did you find Katherine this chapter? I found this in character for her, her trying to show Lucien more of herself, beyond the survivor.
Did I do a good job at that or not, I'm not completely sure, it's new territory when it comes to writing her for me.
Well, I hope to see you all later,
Bye!)