#genevieve x echo | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

simplyyspring · 1 month ago

Text

Memories

Liam Mairi x Fem!OC, Xaden Riorson x Fem!OC (platonic)

Summary: Genevieve Tavis has lost the most important person in her life and her older brother's best friend, Xaden, attempts to help her through her grief.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI!!! smut, death, grief, angst, hurt (with comfort), me not knowing how to properly portray Xaden. FOURTH WING SPOILERS, please don't read if you haven't read the first book I will not be responsible for the emotional damage.

Word Count: 9k

A/N: This is not the first fic I have ever written but it IS the first fic I've ever posted. I already rewrote it because I hated the first version, and the only proofreading that this version has received is grammarly spell/grammar check so bear with me! This fic was inspired by @saintsanddevils "Unravel Me" fic so please read that as well, it's amazing! I've debated expanding on Gen's story but have not decided, please do tell me if you'd like to see that! Anyways, let's get into all the angst (I did cry a few times writing this).

fourth wing masterlist what things would be like

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The sky has an orange hue as I sit on a ledge outside the Riorson house. My eyes study the waves of hills and rigid peaks of mountains in the distance — this has always been one of my favorite views. I grew familiar with it from all the summers I’d spent here while my brother visited his best friend. I catch the scent of pine trees in the wind, and the familiar rustle of the grass beneath gives a sense of nostalgia. It almost brings a smile to my face. Almost.

My hand finds the small wooden sculpture of Eilidh that Liam had whittled months ago in the pocket of my flight jacket. He had done it for everyone, but Eilidh was his first — likely because she had let him close enough to truly study her. Of course she had. She had a soft spot for Liam, though she was reluctant to voice it often. She understood our connection long before anyone else. Eilidh’s grief when Deigh died wasn’t just for him — it was for his rider as well.

I pull the sculpture out of my pocket, my thumb brushing over the details as I study the shape of Eilidh — one I know like the back of my hand. When he had given the sculpture to me, I didn’t know what to say. It was the most beautiful thing anyone had given me — the kindest thing a person had done for me. Although I can go outside and see her whenever I please, there was something intimate about somebody turning the most important being in my life into a piece of art. I feel a knot building in my throat as the memory floods back, my eyes beginning to well with tears.

“I made you something.”

Liam’s voice brought me out of my studying trance, causing me to look up at him. He was fiddling with something in his hands — a piece of wood? Some sort of sculpture? And he looked… nervous? I raised a brow as he handed the sculpture over to me. I took the piece, studying it for a moment. My heart nearly stopped as I recognized the features.

The wood was rough — almost as if it was supposed to represent her scales. It painted an image of her mid-flight, her wings spread wide. He must have seen her from a distance, or maybe during flight maneuvers and gotten the idea. And he’d gone through with it. Butterflies began to flutter in my stomach.

“It’s Eilidh,” he said, sheepish.

I met his gaze, trying to find the words to say. My mouth opened, then closed — no words came out. Nobody had ever done something so personal for me. His smile faltered for a moment, and my heart almost stopped once again as I noticed his confidence starting to slip.

“I love it,” The words were rushed as they left my lips. My ears heated with embarrassment but I managed to ignore it.

“You do?” Liam let out a breathy sound that sounded suspiciously like relief.

I nodded as my gaze fell back down to the sculpture, a small smile forming on my lips. “I think she’d love it too.”

“It’s alright, I suppose.” Eilidh’s voice echoed in my head, her tone playful. I let out a soft laugh.

“She said she loves it,” I could almost hear her eyes rolling.

I pocketed the sculpture and glanced back up at Liam. “Thank you. It’s beautiful.” I didn’t know what else to say. My feelings were all over the place — and I was never good at voicing those. Rejection and I had become good friends, but that was against my will.

“You think he’s beautiful,” Eilidh’s teasing tone echoed once again. The heat from my ears began to spread to my face. She wasn’t necessarily wrong… but that’s not the point. Either Liam didn’t notice or he chose to ignore it — thankfully.

“Of course. And tell her I said thank you,” Liam said with a grin that made my heart skip a beat, settling into the seat beside me. His knee brushed against mine, the butterflies going wild now. “I just… I like doing things for other people, and she’s always been nice to me. She never threatens to scorch me when I get too close.”

“Not that you know of.” The corner of my lips tugged upwards.

“Noted,” A small laugh escaped his lips. He was quiet for a moment, then, “Do you need any help?” His gaze flickered down toward the books in front of me, then back up at me.

I stared at him for a moment, my brain slowly processing his question. It happened often — I short circuited whenever he was around. I didn’t really need his help, but who was I to deny myself the pleasure of his company? “I’d love some help.”

Liam scooted closer, the scent of oak and leather filling my senses. My lips tugged up into a smile again as we began studying together.

The soft crunch of footsteps pulls me back to the present, the weight of the past few days settling into my bones. I don’t look up. There are very few people who would venture out to find me — even fewer who would know where to find me. Sure, I have quite a group of friends, but they know I’m typically fine after some time to myself. Something tells me this time is different.

My gaze finally lifts toward the large figure as they drop onto the ledge beside me. I’m half surprised that it’s not my brother, Garrick, but his best friend that takes the space. I study him for a moment. He’s dressed more relaxed than usual, but his muscles are still tense. I fully expected him to be occupied, considering the woman he loves is inside, healing. But he’s right here. Making sure I’m okay. I suppose she hasn’t woken up yet.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Xaden’s voice breaks the silence as his dark eyes meet mine. The silence stretches once again. Do I want to talk to him about this? Should I? There was a point in time where the simple thought of him brought a blush to my face. He’s Garrick’s best friend, which means Garrick found him decent enough to be close to him. We’d grown up with him, after all. He’s always been so passionate — and that passion shines through in everything he does. Even now, a leader of a revolution, it’s hard not to be drawn to him. But this is a vulnerable topic. It’s not often that I voice my feelings.

“He’s really gone.” I try to tame the shake in my voice before the words leave my lips but I don’t have any success. Xaden tenses beside me, clenching his jaw, and I look back toward the mountains. He and Liam had been placed in the same foster home — he’d trained him and watched him grow. He’d helped turn him into the boy I fell in love with.

“I’m sorry–”

“Don’t be,” He cuts me off. “If that’s what you need to talk about… then we’ll talk.” He gives me a nod before going quiet. I don’t break the silence. I don’t know what to say. I know he’s doing the same thing I am — studying the view, taking it in. I know he misses it more than any of us, and that, on top of the grief of losing his brother… Gods, I can’t imagine what he’s feeling.

I look at him again, and his eyes find mine. The typical glare they usually hold is missing, replaced by something softer and kinder. I see it often. He’s always had a soft spot for me, though he never outright admits it.

“Gen…” Xaden’s voice is soft, his eyes scanning my face as if searching for the words to say. “You loved him… didn’t you?” The words feel like a punch to the gut. I haven’t spoken much about my feelings — certainly not with Garrick or Xaden, and certainly not with Liam himself. I’ve wanted to, but the words get stuck in my throat any time I start.

“I…” My voice trails off. There they go, getting stuck again. Part of me wants to deny it, keep it for myself, and hold on to the feeling of being in love for the life of me. My heart has been ripped to shreds, and the only person who could mend it isn’t here. Tears begin to brim my eyes as my gaze falls back on the scenery ahead. Xaden is silent, which isn’t unusual, but I know he’s waiting for me to continue.

“I never got to tell him…” I finally whisper, my voice cracking ever so slightly. I’ve never been one to show much emotion, but recently, I haven’t had much control. I’ve been distancing myself, knowing I’ll either lash out or break down if anyone gets too close. My jaw clenches as my vision begins to blur. “... How I felt, what I thought of him. How much I appreciate him. How much I appreciate everything he’s done for me.” I shake my head, attempting to blink away the tears, but the action only causes a few of them to stream down my cheeks.

“He knows.” The older boy nods, certainty bleeding through his tone. “He knows all of it now… and I’d bet quite a bit of gold that he felt the same.” A very small smile touches his lips as my eyes find him again. I don’t understand how he can seem so… fine after everything that’s happened. We’d been set up to die. Violet almost died. Liam did die. Xaden’s ability to be the calm in the storm will always be something I admire; it’s always drawn me to him. Sometimes, he used that ability to his advantage. He can be deadly when he truly wants to be.

“Can I tell you something?” I ask softly, my eyes catching on the scar on his brow for a moment, admiring it. Although the feelings I once had are no longer there, I can’t deny how attractive he is. “I haven’t really been able to… talk about anything with anyone.” More like I haven’t tried to.

Xaden leans back on his hands, keeping his eyes on me as he nods, urging me to continue. I’m sure he knows all the information I’m about to spew at him, but it’ll be nice to finally let something out for once.

My gaze lingers on him for a moment before I lick my lips and continue, “Before him, I thought I already knew what love was.” My voice goes quieter as my eyes fall to my lap, and I start to fiddle with my fingers. “I thought a… childhood crush was love. I thought it was everything I’d been looking for. I thought I was completely screwed because the man I supposedly loved saw me as nothing more than a little sister.” My eyes dart toward him as I hear him snicker, watching as he shakes his head, giving me a knowing look.

“I’m not an idiot, Tavis.” I raise a brow, ready to argue against that statement, but he continues, “And before you get defensive, I’m not judging. I would never judge you. I knew for longer than you think I did.” Xaden’s eyes leave mine, shaking his head. I can tell he’s trying to figure out what to say next. “Just because feelings aren’t… reciprocated… doesn’t mean they’re not real. It may not have been love in the sense that you know it now, but it was still an experience.” He finally finishes, giving me a slight nod.

My eyes narrow for a moment as I listen to what he says, then I shake my head. “Okay, thanks.” I nod, “But that’s not the point.” I speak slowly, a little baffled by his response, then continue, “The point is that I felt much stronger things for him.” Liam and I had been friends before going into the Rider’s Quadrant due to Garrick and I visiting after we were placed in our foster homes, but we’d grown closer after crossing parapet. Thankfully, my brother and I weren’t placed far from each other like Liam and his sister, Sloane, had been — otherwise, I likely wouldn’t have met him.

“When we first joined the quadrant, everything changed. We immediately became really good friends.” I nodded slowly as I recalled everything, and Xaden sat quietly, listening intently. “We spent every moment we could together. Sure, eventually, I met Vi, Ridoc, Sawyer, and Rhi… they’re all amazing. But Liam and I had this… connection that I never had with anyone else.” I feel tears beginning to fill my eyes as well, and I don’t attempt to hide it this time.

“One day, we were sparring together. We were alone… it was late. One thing led to another, and… he kissed me.” Tears left wet trails down my cheeks as I stared off, recalling the memory.

“Quite the position you’ve got me in here, Mairi,” I spoke breathlessly as he hovered above me, his hips pinning mine to the mat and his hands pinning my wrists above my head. I couldn’t lie; I enjoyed being in this position with him. I could feel his body heat against me — and I was very aware of how his training tee outlined his muscles. I’d let my soul meet Malek before ever admitting that to him.

“You flustered, Tavis?” Liam arched a brow as his gaze focused on my features with a grin. I couldn’t tell what that look meant — Was he thinking the same thing I was? Was the fact that our bodies were touching in such intimate places driving him crazy, too? Or was he simply trying to catch me off guard?

“Me? Flustered?” I let out a scoff, fighting to deny the accusation. Admitting anything would only give him the upper hand. “In your dreams, Mairi.” I shook my head, and his grin only widened.

I studied his features as I laid beneath him, letting my eyes fall on his lips for a moment. I noticed the catch in his breath, the way he faltered — even if it was just a little. An idea sparked in my mind. Although I enjoyed being in this position with him, I could still have some fun with the rest of the sparring match. His gaze then followed a path similar to my own, glancing down at my lips. I felt his body relax on top of mine.

As soon as I knew his guard was down, I quickly moved my wrists out of his grip and took his wrists into my own grip. I then used all my body weight to flip us over, pinning him in a very similar position. Realistically, I knew he could turn it back around if he really wanted to. But he didn’t.

“Quite the position you’ve got me in here, Tavis.” His grin was still huge, and he raised a brow as his blue eyes met mine. He was obviously enjoying all of this. I was suddenly very aware of just how easy it would be to place my thighs on either side of him and have my way with him. My skin heated at the thought, but I managed to push it away before it could become an issue.

“You flustered, Mairi?” I questioned, raising a brow back at him. I could feel my heart pounding out of my chest.

“And if I was?” My body tensed above him. Had I heard him correctly? My eyes were trained on the freckles that littered his face, once again questioning if he was trying to throw me off for the win. Something in those beautiful blue eyes told me he wasn’t.

I didn’t reply, but neither of us moved either. We laid there, me pinning him to the sparring mat, our breathing syncing. Suddenly — as if acting on impulse — Liam tilted his head up and closed the gap between us, pressing his lips against mine. Stunned, I froze for a moment before kissing him back.

Fireworks set off in my stomach as I moved my hands from his wrists to cup his face. Liam let out a soft hum against my lips as he deepened the kiss, and I followed, moving to bury one of my hands in his hair. I could feel his hands on my body, roaming along my waist, and his body pressed up against mine. It made me feral — something nobody ever made me feel. I’d never let anyone touch me beyond kissing and a few roaming hands. Nothing more than a make-out session. If this continued, I had a feeling it would turn into much more.

Moments later, we heard the gym doors open, causing both of us to jump and remove ourselves from each other. Our lips were swollen, his hair was a mess, and there was absolutely no denying what had happened, even if the culprit hadn’t already seen it. Heat rushed to my face, and our eyes darted toward the door to see who had interrupted. Then, we found the Wing Leader staring at us with raised brows. He muttered something about first years under his breath before shaking his head and immediately retreating back into the hallway.

Xaden’s soft hum pulls me away from the memory. “You forget that I walked in on that.” I look over at him to see his nose scrunching up in mock disgust. “I’m still scarred,” he adds, and I roll my eyes playfully, letting out a soft laugh. It almost takes me by surprise; I haven’t heard myself laugh since the night of reunification — before everything went to shit.

“It’s your fault for walking in,” I joke, raising a brow at him.

The older boy lets out a scoff, furrowing his brows. “You act like it isn’t a space open to the entire quadrant.”

“You had no business being there that late.” I playfully glare at him, causing him to laugh and shake his head. I almost feel lighter, like all my problems have disappeared. He doesn’t say anything further as the two of us fall into a content silence.

“You scared the shit out of him, y’know.” I break the silence after a moment, laughing quietly as the memory of Liam panicking over Xaden finding us resurfaces.

We finally reached my bedroom door after deciding that our sparring session was over. The embarrassment of being caught — and by Xaden, of all people — was like being dunked in a bucket of ice-cold water. We wouldn’t have been able to focus if we’d continued.

Liam seemed more freaked out by the event than I had expected. I was just embarrassed — he looked as if his world was coming to its inevitable end. He fidgeted with his hands, his brow tightly knit, unusually quiet. I let him sit in silence for a while, but the anticipation of not knowing how he felt was starting to wear on me. Did he regret the kiss?

I pushed the door open and stepped into my room, gently grabbing Liam by the arm to tug him through the ward that Xaden and Garrick had insisted be put in place. I had complained about the overprotective nature of it, but I admit that I appreciated the extra layer of protection in this hellhole.

“What’s wrong?” I asked him, closing the door before watching as he fell into his usual spot in the chair beside my desk. He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees, his body wound tight with tension and his mind obviously reeling. This wasn’t the first time he’d been in my room — we’d had countless study sessions in here — so it was a comfortable space for this inevitable talk.

“What’s wrong?” Liam repeated, his brows shooting upward as he let his body fall back into the chair. “Xaden just walked in on us kissing, and you’re asking me what’s wrong?” His hands were moving frantically, mirroring his panic. I still couldn’t pinpoint exactly why he was panicking, though.

“I’m sure Xaden has seen more traumatizing things.” I joked and let out a soft laugh. I studied his features — his blonde hair, his blue eyes, the freckles that decorated his face. It was something that I did often, though I tried to be subtle about it. He was beautiful.

“What if he tells Garrick?” His tone was now exasperated. I furrowed my brows at the question. He was worried about my brother finding out? I walked over to sit on the edge of my bed, across from his chair, keeping my gaze on him.

“Would that be so bad?” I questioned, letting out a small laugh. Sure, Garrick could be overprotective, but he was reasonable, at least. I never had an issue of him interfering with my love life. He trusted me to make the right choices — and come to him if they turned out to be the wrong ones.

“You don’t get it.” Liam sighed and ran his hands down his face. I tried my hardest not to focus on the veins that made their way from his forearms to his hands as he did so. “You’re not an older brother.” My face softened as I heard the words. He was looking at this from the perspective of Garrick himself — how he would feel if someone he trusted and considered a friend had seemingly gone behind his back and kissed his little sister.

“But you are,” I said, giving him a small nod as I leaned back on my hands. “How would you react to Sloane kissing someone you were friends with?” I raised a brow, keeping my eyes on him as I waited for his response.

“I would be furious.” He scoffs, bringing a hand up to run through his hair before leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees once again. He was still fidgeting. “And if I fuck up? What happens? Do I lose two important people in my life?” An ache blossomed in my chest, and I wanted to kiss him until he was breathless and assured that nothing he could ever do would cause him to lose me. But I could tell he was gathering himself, reeling himself back in from the panic, so I didn’t.

“But I guess I’d come around eventually — if she really liked them.” Liam’s blue eyes met mine as he broke the silence, causing a small smile to grow on my face. We fell into a comfortable silence as I allowed him to sort through his thoughts more, and he eventually leaned back in the chair again as he relaxed.

“I write her letters all the time.” His voice was softer now as he glued his eyes to the floor. My heart skipped at the admission. “I know I can’t send them, and she’ll already be here by the time I’m able to… but fuck, there’s so much I want her to know, so much I don’t want to forget. So much I want to prepare her for.” The ache in my chest returned as I listened to him. I could tell he was terrified for her to join the quadrant, and it was obvious how much he missed her. He’d brought her up quite a few times in passing. I couldn’t help but wonder if Garrick had felt similarly during his first year.

“I promise there are just as many things she wants you to know.” I smiled small and gave him a nod, speaking from experience. The age gap between Garrick and I was larger, so we were able to write letters back and forth before I joined, but nothing could beat talking to him in person. Although there had always been a sense of dread about joining the riders quadrant, there was also a sense of relief that I would see the people I loved again.

A small smile grew on Liam’s lips as his eyes drifted to meet mine again. “Do you think he’ll tell him?” He asked. Xaden was just as protective as Garrick. He wouldn’t rush off to tell him immediately, but he certainly wouldn’t pass up the chance to mention it the first chance he got.

“I think it’s very likely.” A chuckle escaped my lips as I nodded, causing him to tilt his head back against the chair and let out a dramatic groan. “But I don’t think it will be as big of a deal as you’re making it out to me.” I shook my head, watching him in amusement.

“Why’s that?” Liam raised an eyebrow as he turned his head toward me, still tilting it back against the chair.

I went quiet for a moment, my heart and my brain having a silent debate. One of them — my heart — told me to tell him the truth, to spill all of my feelings to him. My brain was telling me to keep it to myself — that chances are, he didn’t feel the same, and it was a spur-of-the-moment kiss. But the fact that he was so anxious told me otherwise.

“Because to him, I’m an open book.” My shoulders shrugged, and I paused for a moment, chewing on the inside of my cheek. “I’ve thought about you for… a while now. And he knows that. I’m sure he’d be pretty understanding.” My heart pounded as I kept my attention on him.

Liam froze as he listened to me. Shit. Did I make a mistake? Had I read him wrong? Did he not feel the same way about me? Was the kiss not good for him? I couldn’t stop my thoughts from spiraling — now I was the one panicking.

“A while, huh?” His voice brought me out of my thoughts. He had noticeably relaxed in a matter of seconds, his voice teasing now. Heat began to creep up my face once again. “Do you have a crush on me, Genevieve?”

I rolled my eyes and shook my head. There was no way this was the same man who was freaking out just minutes before. “You’re insufferable,” I said with a soft chuckle.

“I take pride in it.” A grin grew on his face. “You want to tell me just how long this little crush has been going on?” He raised a brow, and I could feel his eyes studying me.

I groaned, falling backward on my bed. “Insufferable,” I repeated, causing him to let out a laugh from deep within his stomach — a real one. The sound brought a smile to my face.

My chest aches as his laugh echoes in my head.

I stay quiet for a moment, my lips rubbing together. “He definitely wasn’t my first kiss, but he was my first for a lot of other things.” I nod slowly. I can feel Xaden’s gaze on me but I don’t meet it.

“I know you don’t want to hear about that, but the connection… I don’t know that I could find that anywhere else.” I stare off for a moment, attempting to ignore the sting that threatens to return to my eyes. One would think I didn’t have any tears left to cry, but I’m actively proving that wrong.

“Are you sure about this?” Liam questioned as he hovered above me, both of our shirts already discarded and thrown somewhere in the room. It was late, after another sparring session, and we were in my room. A make-out session had gotten a little too heated, and well, here we were on my bed.

I nodded, allowing my eyes to study his freckles for a moment — they were almost like constellations. My gaze then fell to his lips, already swollen from kisses. He was beautiful like this, disheveled, his guard down as if he didn’t have a care in the world.

“I’m sure. I’ve never been more sure in my life.” A small smile came onto my lips, which was quickly returned by the boy.

Liam bit his lip as he slowly trailed a hand down along my body, mapping every curve. I felt my breath hitch in response, the heat in my lower stomach only intensifying from the anticipation. I gasped quietly as he slid his hand under the waistband of my pants, then my underwear, running a finger along my already slick core and causing me to let out a soft moan. Nobody had ever touched me like this.

“So fucking wet for me,” he muttered as he began toying with my clit, adding another finger and drawing more moans out of me. “So fucking beautiful.” Liam’s words shot right to my core, only adding to the pleasure. He had to know what he was doing to me.

I felt two of his fingers circle around my entrance before sliding into me with ease, causing me to gasp and toss my head back against the pillow. The feeling. The stretch. It was overwhelming — so much better than doing it myself, imagining it was someone else touching the most intimate parts of my body.

Liam grinned as he began pumping his fingers slowly, keeping his eyes on my face. “Such a good girl,” he cooed as I felt his thumb press against my clit, adding a delicious amount of pressure.

“F-fuck,” I moaned out, looking up at him as white-hot pleasure coursed through my body. I could feel him everywhere — his presence was maddening, and the fact that all his focus was on me even more so. It felt like too much and not enough at the same time.

Liam’s fingers began to pump faster, curling and hitting that delicious spot inside me. He mumbled praises under his breath, each of them only intensifying the pleasure. I began to feel a knot building in my lower stomach, grinding my hips up toward his hand. My back bows, the lewd sounds of his fingers pumping in and out of me filling the room.

“I-I think I’m gonna–” My words are cut off by another loud moan.

“I know, baby,” His voice was soft, the sloshing of his fingers pumping into me growing louder as he pumped faster. “Let it out for me. I’m right here with you. Show me how good I make you feel.” He coaxed.

I felt him begin to kiss along my chest before attaching his lips to one of my nipples, and he only added more pressure to my clit. The pleasure grew more intense with the added sensation, my moans growing louder as I squeezed my eyes shut. My body shook against his as the knot in my stomach began to unravel. Moments later, I moan out his name as I release around his fingers, my walls pulsating around them.

“That’s it,” Liam cooed against my skin, “Such a good girl for me, look at you cumming all over my fingers.”

The words felt like a blanket over me as he rode out my orgasm, and I relaxed beneath him, breathing heavily. He lifted his head before planting gentle kisses on my neck, removing his fingers from me. I whimpered at the loss, squirming beneath him. Liam chuckled low against my skin as he trailed kisses further down my body, and I looked down as he began to work my pants off.

“What are you–” I’m cut off by his shushing.

“Let me take care of you,” He muttered against my skin. The heat in my stomach ignited once again as he tugged my pants down before tossing them to the floor. He then wasted no time diving in between my thighs, drawing loud moans from me again.

I blink and feel a tear roll down my cheek. I realize I’m still sitting on the ledge with Xaden rather than in my room back in Basgiath with Liam.

Xaden’s eyes scan over me with a sorrowful look. “I didn’t know you guys were so intimate…” He spoke softly, his tone more comforting than usual. I bring my hands up to wipe my eyes. I’m so tired of crying.

I let out a soft hum in response. “We didn’t see any point in screaming it from the rooftops.” I shook my head slightly. “We never made anything official. The only conversation we really had was regarding whether or not we were exclusive.” I nod my head slightly, bringing a hand up to run through my hair.

We were exclusive. We’d decided that after I’d gotten jealous of some girl trying to make a move. I almost laugh at the memory of how dramatic I’d been.

I walked out of battle brief without saying a word to Liam. In fact, that’s how I’d been walking out of every class for the past week. I played it off as having somewhere to be, but truthfully, I simply didn’t want to face the storm brewing inside me.

“Gen!” I could hear him calling out for me. Why was he chasing after me now? Why hadn’t he done it sooner? Did he truly care, or did he just want to make sure he could still get laid? I hated myself for thinking that, but I couldn’t help it. I always thought jealousy was pitiful — pathetic, even — but then I saw her talking to him, twirling her blonde hair around her finger. His smile. Now, it had plagued me like a disease.

I felt a hand grip my arm before I could round a corner, yanking me into an empty classroom. I furrowed my brows, eyes darting around to ensure nobody was present before focusing on Liam.

“What the hell are you doing?” I hated the way my body relaxed at the sight of him, the way my voice couldn’t be as strong as I willed it to be. The effect he had on me was always undeniable. My heart and my brain were fighting over how to feel — currently, my brain was winning, but my heart was putting up a damned good fight.

“Why haven’t you been talking to me?” Liam asked with furrowed brows, concern lining his face and filling his eyes as he studied me. It was silly, really. I shouldn’t have been avoiding him like this. Who was I to be jealous of some girl?

“I’ve had the same question,” Eilidh’s voice echoed in my head. “You don’t have time for these pathetic and petty acts.” She was right. I had bigger things to worry about, but I couldn’t help it. He deserved proper communication, though.

I stayed quiet, my eyes glued to the wall behind him before meeting his gaze. “I saw you last week. You were… talking to someone. Some girl. She seemed nice, and you seemed quite interested in her.” My voice was soft, almost shy. I never got jealous. I had no reason to. We never agreed to be exclusive.

“Are you jealous, Tavis?” Liam raised a brow, amusement washing over his face as he watched me.

I sighed quietly, looking away from him again. I didn’t want him to think I was possessive. I didn’t want to be that girl who held him back. He had never been the kind of guy to settle on one girl.

“Gen,” He spoke up softly after a moment, keeping his eyes on me. I didn’t answer, not wanting to deepen my own embarrassment.

“Genevieve.” I finally looked up at him, and he brought his hands up to cradle my face. “Nothing happened with her.”

“It sure seemed like something was happening,” I spat back, my tone more angry than I cared to admit I was. Gods, I was so pathetic.

“She was trying, but if you had stuck around a little longer, you would have seen me walk away and find Xaden.” His blue eyes focused on my hazel eyes. My brows furrowed.

“Xaden?”

He nodded. “I didn’t want anyone else. I didn’t know how to deal with it. So I went to Xaden.” Liam scrunched his nose slightly, his thumbs gently brushing against my cheeks. I felt myself relax more at his touch, finding comfort in how gentle he was with his rough hands.

“And what did Xaden say?” I raised a brow as I studied him, focusing on his freckles — Gods, I loved his freckles — and taking in his beautiful blue eyes.

“He basically said I’m stupid for being so scared about it.” He laughed quietly. “A little rich coming from him considering how often he denies his feelings for Violet.”

I let out a soft laugh and shook my head, feeling a weight fall off my shoulders. I moved my arms to wrap around his shoulders and allowed my body to relax into his.

“You could have talked to me,” Liam spoke up softly as he tilted his head down to look at me. “Probably would have cleared everything up pretty quickly.” A small laugh escaped his lips, causing me to roll my eyes. He was right, but I wouldn’t admit that.

“I didn’t think you’d want anything more.” I shook my head slightly, hating myself for how stupid I’d been.

“I don’t know what I want.” He shook his head as well. “All I know is I don’t want to do it with anyone else. This doesn’t have to be some… crazy declaration. But we can agree not to see other people if that’s what you want.”

I saw something as I looked into those beautiful eyes of his. Hope. Yearning. A million things being left unsaid. He knew I had an issue with commitment, and he was trying to navigate it the best he could.

“I’d like that,” I said with a nod, a smile forming on both of our lips. The world stilled for a moment as we held each other’s gaze. Before much else could be said, Liam leaned in to gently press his lips against mine. It didn’t take long for that kiss to turn into something much more heated.

“I remember him coming to me in a panic about not wanting anyone else,” Xaden’s laugh and his voice pull me back to reality. “I think he was just scared of getting hurt, which anyone can relate to.”

I nodded a little, staying quiet. I couldn’t think of a response. After that conversation, Liam and I spent every possible moment together. We were together the night of reunification day, the last real moment we had alone before being sent to Athebyne. The last real moment we had before Resson.

I took in a deep breath, the scent of oak and leather wrapping around my senses as Liam wrapped himself around me, his arm draped over my waist. We must have fallen asleep after our… activities that night. Xaden had finally let him have a break from being Violet’s body guard since he had decided to be with her tonight. Every one of my instincts told me to stay like this forever — wrapped up in his sheets — but that wouldn’t be realistic.

Liam moved his arm to gently rub his hand along the bare skin of my waist, and I shifted to lay on my back, a soft smile growing on my lips as I looked up at him. His hand now rested on my bare stomach, and I lifted my own to gently run through his hair before slowly tracing my finger down along his jawline.

“What are you thinking about?” His voice came out soft and groggy from just waking up. It almost ignited that flame in my lower stomach once again, but I just wanted to lay here with him for a while longer. I went quiet for a moment, deciphering how to form my thoughts into words.

“What things would be like if we weren’t… here.” I finally spoke up quietly. I could almost see it — sleeping in late, finding him shirtless in the kitchen making breakfast. Holding his hand just because I could, kissing him without worrying if it may be the last. The late nights spent with our friends, the laughter. The joy. Maybe in this other life, I wouldn’t feel the need to guard my love so stubbornly and could tell him how I truly felt. Some of these things were obtainable, but it was difficult to have them when we never knew if we would survive to see next week.

Liam let out a soft hum in response, his index finger tracing shapes on my skin. “What, if we weren’t forced into a death sentence?” There was a hint of amusement in his voice, though we both knew there was truth to it. That’s exactly what it was supposed to be for us marked ones — a death sentence. Leadership hated it when we moved up the ranks with ease, like Xaden and Garrick, but there wasn’t much they could do. They couldn’t deny how much of an asset some of us were to the continent.

“Somethin’ like that,” I said with a soft laugh, studying the freckles that painted his face as if I didn’t already know them like the back of my hand. He was so beautiful — like a work of art. All of him. Sure, his body was absolutely divine, but he was arguably the kindest person I had met and definitely the most patient. Liam was confided in often, and yet he never complained — nor did he judge. He was the kind of person to put everyone before himself.

His head dipped to bury his face in my neck, planting gentle kisses. “And what would things be like?” Liam asked teasingly as he nipped at my ear. That flame simmered below the surface, ready to ignite any second if he continued. I drew in a deep breath as his lips trailed down along my skin.

I held back a breathy moan, my thighs pressing together like the traitors they were. “You’re gonna tire us both out again if you keep on with that,” I told him, resisting the urge to squirm beneath him.

“I don’t see a problem with that,” Liam responded, “the best sleep aid known to man.” He began leaving open-mouthed, wet kisses along my collarbones. I let out a sensual sigh, wetting my lips with my tongue.

“You’re insufferable.” My voice came out shakier than intended. I had a love-hate relationship with the way he affected me — or my body, I suppose — it gave him far too much control. I allowed it, though, because the love tended to override the hate. Liam knew the effect he had, and he took advantage of it every chance he could.

“And I take pride in it,” Liam said with a teasing laugh, his lips now moving up along my neck toward my own.

“Now answer my question.” He grinned as he pecked my lips. “What would things be like?”

I opened my mouth to speak, but I was interrupted by an urgent pounding on the door. “I know you’re in there, Mairi!” A voice called from the other side. Bodhi? “We’re being called to formation.”

Liam and I both let out a groan as he let his head fall to rest on my chest. Bodhi pounded on the door again before Liam let out a deep sigh and got out of bed, grabbing his underwear from the floor and shuffling it back on. I pulled the sheets over my body and tried not to focus on how the muscles in his back rippled with every movement as he walked over and opened the door.

Bodhi was standing there, already dressed in his leathers and ready to go. He looked into the room and made eye contact with me, his brows shooting up toward his hairline.

“My bad for interrupting,” He spoke up and averted his gaze from mine, looking back at Liam. His face was solemn, and he didn’t make a teasing remark like he usually would. A beat passed before he spoke again as if gathering his thoughts. “We’re under attack. Get to formation. Now.”

My heart dropped to my ass as Bodhi rushed away, and Liam closed the door before anyone else could see us. Under attack? On reunification day? How the fuck does that happen? That couldn’t be a coincidence. Liam turned to look at me, his wide eyes meeting mine, and then we both scrambled to get our clothes on.

Liam turned to me once we finished, stalking over before gently taking my face in his hands. He leaned in to kiss me before mumbling, “We can finish this talk later.” A small grin made its way onto his face. “I’d love to hear that answer.”

His voice echoes in my mind. I’d love to hear that answer. The answer I never had the chance to give him. I squeeze my hand around the wooden sculpture of Eilidh. I can feel her at the back of my mind, quiet but waiting in case I need her. I don’t know what I need.

“He got better with it.” I smile softly. Though we never said those three words, he was always very vocal about how he felt — consistently reassuring me I was the only one he wanted, telling me how amazing I looked even when I was a sweaty mess after challenges or sparring sessions.

“I was going to tell him the last night we were together, the night of reunification. Being called to formation kind of ruined that.” I let out a dry laugh, almost a scoff. “It still fucks with me that they told us we were under attack when it was really fucking war games.”

Xaden grunts in response. “Had to be realistic, I guess. Wanted the adrenaline rush to see how we’d do if it were real.” This time, I let out a real scoff but don’t respond because he’s right. That’s exactly what it was, a test to see how quickly we’d react.

“And then they sent us to our deaths,” I say quietly. Xaden doesn’t respond, but I notice how his jaw clenches. I know he feels like he failed us that day — failed Violet, Liam, and Soleil especially. I want to tell him it isn’t true, that he couldn’t have controlled what happened to us that day, but I know it would fall on deaf ears.

“I can’t get it out of my head.” My voice falls to a whisper. “He was… fine. He was healthy. He was fighting, didn’t miss a beat, and then suddenly…” I trail off, chewing on the inside of my cheek. An ache comes creeping into my chest. I’ve debated numerous times asking Imogen to wipe the memory of him, but I know that wouldn’t be beneficial.

My feet hit the ground as I dismounted Eilidh. I could hear Deigh’s cries from a mile away. Surely he was just injured — surely he’d be fine. My eyes searched the area before finding Violet’s half-silver hair, my brows furrowing as I took in the sight of her on the ground. What the hell was happening? Why wasn’t Eilidh speaking to me? Had she shut me out? Did I do something?

I rush over, the breath leaving my lungs as I take in the sight before me. Liam was lying in her arms. No color to his face. Barely awake, his breathing shallow. I couldn’t see any blood; his body seemed fine, but he obviously wasn’t.

“Oh my Gods, what happened?” I managed to get out as I fell to my knees beside her. Violet was kind enough to gently move Liam toward me, allowing me to gently wrap my arms around him.

“Deigh…” Liam’s voice was strained. He’d hardly managed to get the words out before coughing. I shook my head slightly in a silent plea for him to save his energy, gently caressing my thumb along his cheek. He looked so tired. So weak. I looked up at Violet and met her gaze. There were tears streaming down her face.

“He was attacked… gutted,” Violet spoke very softly. “He was… he was protecting Tairn and I. He… he didn’t make it, Gen.” My breath caught in my throat at her words. A sudden wave of grief fell over me, partially my own but primarily Eilidh’s. Her shield must have fallen. If Deigh was dead, Liam only had minutes before he followed. If that.

My eyes fell back down to Liam, whose blue eyes studied my features like they had done a million times before.

“I’m so sorry,” I choked out, and I couldn’t stop the tears that flooded from my eyes. This would be the last time I could hold him, the last time I could look at his beautiful eyes. The last time I could admire those freckles I loved so much.

“It’s o-okay,” He nodded, tears brimming his own eyes. “Everything will be okay.”

I shook my head as I listened to what he said. Everything would not be okay, not without him. I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came out. I should have told him how I felt. I should have told him how much I loved him. But my voice fell into a void, and I cursed myself for it.

“Listen to me.” There was a shake in Liam’s voice. His energy was depleting — and quickly. “No matter what happens right now, you fight. Do you understand me? Don’t let this pull you into the dark; you fight it. You fight them. And you win. This is just a battle. We can still win the war.” His hand grasped mine as he met my tearful gaze. I stared down at him for a moment before nodding.

I would make every dark wielder pay for this. Who were they to take him from me? Who were they to attack us and assume there would be no consequence? This wouldn’t be over until every last one of them met the same fate. I’d make sure of it.

“I promise. I’ll fight. For you, for Deigh.” I nodded again. “I promise.” And I meant it. That’s a promise I would keep.

Liam gave me a small, weak smile. I tilted my head down and planted a gentle kiss on his lips, then one on his forehead, before Xaden landed on Sgaeyl beside us. He dismounted as quickly as possible and rushed over. My vision was blurred, my hearing muffled. I couldn’t focus on anything other than the ache forming in my chest. My body was frozen. All I could hear was Xaden’s voice as he said, “I know, brother,” before Liam was lifted from my arms and carried over to Deigh. I should have said a proper goodbye, but my heart wouldn’t let me.

I let out a deep, shaky breath as my eyes glued themselves to the grass below me, the spot where he’d been lying in my arms. I managed to blink away some of the tears before lifting my head to watch Xaden and Liam. I allowed myself to sit and wallow in the grief for a moment.

Don’t let this pull you into the dark. His voice echoed in my head. I would never be able to get over this — to get over him. I’d never be able to let go.

“You don’t have to let go of anything.” Eilidh’s voice finally sounded in my head. “But you do have to fight through it. We have people depending on us, Brave One.”

I let out a slow breath, attempting to stabilize myself, and stood up. She was right. We did have people depending on us. I couldn’t wallow in my grief; I didn’t have time for that. Not yet, at least.

So I looked out to where our friends were fighting. I studied them for a moment and assessed my surroundings, beginning to create a game plan in my head. I then quickly mounted Eilidh once again before she took off. I had a promise to fulfill.

“I don’t think that’s something any of us are going to get out of our heads.” Xaden shakes his head as he looks forward, not wanting to look me in the eye. It’s a sore subject for all of us, especially so soon after.

“And that’s okay. You should remember him; all of us should…” His voice trails off as he pauses for a moment as if thinking about how he should continue. “But we have to remember that people die in war, Gen. If we let it eat us alive… if we let it hold us back, then they’d have died in vain.

His words sink into my bones as I take my bottom lip between my teeth. He’s right. Liam isn’t the only one we lost in that battle. Xaden has always been great with speeches and motivational talks, but I’m not typically someone who needs them. Guess there’s a first time for everything. I don’t notice the silence until he breaks it again.

“And he wouldn’t want you to hold anything back.” The older boy speaks softly, his onyx eyes finally meeting mine once again. I can’t tell where he’s about to take this conversation.

“It won’t happen now, but eventually… eventually you’ll find someone who makes you feel loved and appreciated. And I know for a fact he would want you to do what makes you happy. No matter what that is, no matter who it is, he would want you to be happy.

I close my eyes, going quiet as I chew on my bottom lip. I don’t want to think about being with anyone else — I can’t imagine loving anybody else. The idea of giving myself to someone else makes my stomach churn.

“Thanks for the talk.” I give him a slight nod, not acknowledging what he had said. I push the idea of potentially falling in love with someone else away. It’s not an option. Not right now. I’m not sure it ever could be.

“I should get back inside before Violet wakes up and I’m not there.” Xaden runs his fingers through his onyx locks before moving to stand up from the ledge. He reaches his hand down to give my shoulder a gentle, reassuring squeeze.

“Let me know if you need anything.”

I don’t respond as he walks away I look back down at my hands in my lap, staring at the wooden dragon in my hands. My thumb traces over the ridges of Eilidh’s features, about a thousand emotions swirling inside me. I take a moment for myself before standing from the ledge and following Xaden into the Riorson house.

#Liam Mairi x OC #Liam Mairi fic #Liam Mairi #Fourth Wing #The Empyrean #Xaden Riorson x OC #Xaden Riorson #Violet Sorrengail #Garrick Tavis #Iron Flame #Onyx Storm #fourth wing fanfic #fourth wing oc #smut #grief #oc #angst

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fallenheroreblog · 2 months ago

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Charge x Sidestep Playlist:

Playlist Guide Bellow:

How To Listen: Each set of songs represents a moment in these character's relationship, going in chronological order from beginning to end (or present). Each set is typically made up three of color coded songs that represent how each character feels in that moment. In this playlist Charge is Blue and Sidestep is Orange and songs that express how they both feel are White, as seen in the playlist title. Some sets of songs may be longer than others or shorter than others or contain only one character's perceptive etc. These are not rules, they are just meant to enhance the listening experience. Please enjoy.

Runaway - Self

Show Me What I'm Looking For - Carolina Liar

When I'm With You - Best Coast

I Might Survive - Architecture in Helsinki

Oh My My - Blue October

Don't Stand a Chance - The Gromble

EZbreezy - Air Traffic Controller

Clusterhug - I DONT KNOW HOW BUT THEY FOUND ME

So Alive - Mystery Skulls

Love and Pain - Enrique Iglesias

My Own Skin - Valiant Vermin

Sweet & Sour - Elli Ingram

Water Under the Bridge - Adele

Temporary Love - The Brinks

The Knife - Edward + Jane

Momentary - Jake Wesley Rogers

Due West - Kelsey Lu

Uh Huh - RØMANS

Anything But Me - MUNA

Fall on Me - Kitten

Habits - Genevieve Stokes

All We Have Is Now - The Modern Electric

Everything I Love Is Broken

Ready or Not - Air Traffic Controller

Mon bibliothèque - The Dale Cooper Quartet

Innocence (Live from Walt Disney Concert Hall) - The Airborne Toxic Event

Glowing - Phantogram

Move On - Garden City Movement

Sometime Around Midnight - The Airborne Toxic Event

drive - lovelytheband

Shadow - Raleigh Ritchie

Be Together - Enrique Iglesias

Bicycle - The Wet Darlings

Three's Company - Hungover

Same Mistakes - The Echo-Friendly

Beloved (feat. Beach Bunny) - Hank Heaven

Station - Låpsley

It's Only - ODESZA

Hurricane - I Prevail

Hate Me Too - From Ashes to New

Enemy - Mystery Skulls

The Bitter End - Placebo

Bullet - Saint Motel

It's You - Air Traffic Controller

I'm Not Calling You A Liar - Florence + The Machine

If You Love Me, Come Clean - Flatsound

#Mine #Other #Music #Playlist #Vivian Adan #Sidestep #Ricardo Ortega #Charge #FHR #Fallen Hero #Fallen Hero Rebirth #Fallen Hero Retribution #Spotify

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devieuls · 2 years ago

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ˋ Déjà-vu .

Neteyam Sully x Tayrangi Reader ( ONE SHOT )

Synopsis : The Na'vi say that every person is reborn in multiple lives and in each of them, is in a constant search: that of the soul mate. A bond so deep and mysterious that it overcomes the barriers of time and space, uniting two beings destined to meet in each universe. Through the ages and dimensions, kindred souls who seek each other, recognize each other, pushing each other like irresistible magnets. Because the soul mate is the perfect reflection of ourselves, a connection that goes beyond appearances and circumstances. And so, in every life and universe, destiny is intertwined to unite those souls who are destined to be inseparable through the Great Mother.

Warning : None. FLUFF

Recommended Songs : Habits - Genevieve Stokes; Blue - Dreamy, YUP!; Hotline Bling - Billie Eilish; Radio - Lana del Rey; Cinnamon Girl - Lana del Rey

Lenght : 3.6k

NA'VI WORDS : TANHI: Star / Bioluminescent freckles

NETEYAM: 19 y.o / Y/N: 18 y.o

· · ─────── · 𖥸 · ─────── · ·

Hidden among the winding branches of the centuries-old trees, stood the forest of the Omatikaya clan. Its beating heart was a mysterious universe blessed by the Great Mother, a refuge where wild nature manifested itself in all its majesty. The suns, filtering through the thick foliage of the trees, painted golden scales on the moss carpets that stretched between the giant trunks. The air, dense with humidity, smelled of fresh earth and life. Each breath filled your lungs with earthy aromas and floral fragrances, mingling with the sweet singing of birds and Ikran competing for air dominance. Their trills echoed through the bush, dancing with the leaves swinging in the wind like a natural chorus, singing a timeless symphony. The soil, caressed by roots woven like affectionate fingers, housed a myriad of creatures. Invisible to the eyes, the insects buzzed in a concert of whispers, accompanied by the delicate rustle of the leaves that grazed each other. The dewdrops hung from the webs like shining pearls, while the nocturnal creatures found rest in the shade, waiting for their time.

In the midst of this symphony of nature, you were sitting on a rock near the edge of a pond, immersed in the quiet and harmony of the forest. Your gaze reflected the deep connection with the flora that surrounded you, an inner harmony that was reflected in your serene smile as you watched some fish shuffle between your feet in the water. Dressed in clothes with shades of the earth, you seemed a fragment of this landscape, a soul enchanted by the power and beauty of the forest, albeit with details that brought back to the marine flora to which you belonged. You started humming one of the ancient songs of the Tayrangi clan as you stretched your fingers towards the water in front of you, brushing at the fish that lived there quietly, remaining enchanted by that piece of paradise found. You had spent all morning wandering in the forest, and now you were sitting there enjoying the early afternoon making you feel free and weightless, emptying your mind of thoughts and doubts, devoting yourself to solitude. Not far from that almost enchanted place, a second Na'vi was following a small sprawling path to start the hunt, bow in his hand and feline eyes as he sought the perfect spot to start hunting. To distract Neteyam from his main objective was a foreign melody from the forest, which he had never heard before but which seemed so familiar to him. Neteyam’s attentive ears awoke to hear the song, allowing him to pinpoint the direction from which the sound came. < A voice in the forest? > He wondered as intrigued he ventured in the direction of almost hypnotic singing. Curiosity got the better of him as his head peeped out of a tree, watching a young na'vi beauty sitting from behind while humming.

Neteyam could only see the back of the Na'vi, contemplating every inch of your body that seemed to him already so lived, already admired, already touched: your shoulders narrow and thin, slender as your arms, the thread of the top on your back that covered your breasts in front, the small waistline that had around some threads with seashells and sea beads as pendants, and the soft sides leaning on the rock, slightly covered by your loincloth draped at the sides. Your long black hair slightly covered your shoulders with some braids and loose curls, embellished with some shells and sea pearls that went to match the jewel around the waist. His mind was clouded by both your body and your voice, making him feel almost drunk with you, without a real reason, but enjoying your mysterious presence and the melody you created. Neteyam couldn’t decide whether to stay hidden and admire you in silence or approach you, remaining a few minutes to think about what to do, until he made the decision.

Crack < Shit. > Neteyam thought

You turned when you felt a branch break behind you, revealing at your sight a tall male unknown Na'vi who was approaching, and then remained embarrassed by the branch. The Na'vi was particularly attractive and there was something about him that seemed strangely familiar, as if it wasn’t the first time you saw him. Your heart began to accelerate inexplicably and you blushed in embarrassment as you stood, feeling the fresh grass tickling your skin. You opened your mouth, as if to look for meaningful words to start the conversation with, but you felt like you were enchanted by that boy, admiring every single detail in him, losing in your throat all the sentences you were collecting. His eyes, big and honey-colored, sweet but sure, as bright as even Pandora’s suns; around his neck he had a reddish choker beaded, where a strange necklace that you had never seen before landed and you were sure it didn’t belong to Pandora; the toned chest where a cummerbund Omatikaya was tied underneath, revealing that he was a warrior, which you also noticed from the leather armguard and leg guards, as well as the typical Omatikaya knife and armband; your eyes fell for a second on his blue loincloth, observing the songcord that wrapped on one side. His strong natural scent was already recorded in your memory, not understanding how it was possible, and it made you feel strangely good. Your gaze rose again on his face, noticing that like you, he wore feathers on his ear, with colors typical of his clan. Your attention finally fell on the bow in his hand and you thought that he was hunting, and because of yours you had distracted him or scared away the animal he was watching.

"I… well, I thought I was alone," you put your hands forward as an apology, thinking that you had ruined his hunting trip, and then notice that young Na'vi was approaching you in silence, not disturbed by your words of apology before giving you a sweet reassuring smile. "No, don’t stop, please. You sing beautifully," he said. His eyes explored your person, enchanted by your figure: big golden feline eyes, soft lips, two strands of braids fell in front of your face; around your neck you wore some necklaces typical of the Tayrangi clan, the top you were wearing was made of long red and white feathers, just like the ones behind your right ear. "Neteyam of the Omatikaya clan… you are?" < beautiful > he wanted to add, but he just implied that he wanted to know your name. He took his fingers to his forehead and then pointed out to you, as a sign of greeting, a gesture that you then reciprocated. <"Neteyam? I’ve heard this name before…"> you whispered as the boy approached you, and then dug up his name in your memories. "Neteyam the firstborn of the Olo'eyktan and Tsakarem, isn't it?" you asked as you approached him too, not understanding why you felt so safe in his presence, or why your stomach was so upset. "O-oh, forgive me, I didn’t introduce myself. Y/n te Skxumew Ikeyni'ite" you concluded, blushing slightly for your carelessness. "Ikeyni, mh? you… you are the daughter of Ikeyni, the Olo'eykte of the Tayrangi clan?" He asked nicely as he looked at you a little more, breathing in your perfume, getting a little drunk on you again. "Yes, I’m the eldest son of the Sullys. but I know Ikeyni’s daughter, I didn’t remember her so... beautiful" <Smooth, Neteyam, too smooth.> "Oh, I’m Ikeyni’s second daughter, you don’t know me for this. You know my mother from the war council, right? She only bring my big sister Ney'nari, as she will be the next Olo'eykte of the Tayrangi clan. You’ve seen her, you know… tall, beautiful, long braids and kind, it’s hard not to remember. She has a beautiful voice and a good presence, she is a friend of everyone…" you answered him, smiling shyly, and then looking at him and contemplating him for a while longer. "My mother. She… she talked a lot about you to our clan, even my sister did, so I know who your parents are. And that’s why I know who you are, your name lives up to your father’s, you’re admired in all the clans, I won’t be the first to tell you all this… Oh, I’m so sorry. I’m talking way too much" you lowered your eyes slightly swallowing as you laughed slightly embarrassed, not knowing why you suddenly felt so awkward in front of him as your heart pounded in your chest. You were amazed by him, you admired him because of the stories surrounding his name and his greatness despite only nineteen years of life. "It’s a pleasure to meet you… Neteyam te Suli Tsyeyk'itan" you tried not to stutter, to the veiled compliment of the boy but the blush on your cheeks betrayed you, just like your tail.

Neteyam put two fingers under your chin, lifting your face, making you meet your eyes again. The heart beating hard enough to risk a heart attack. "The pleasure is all mine, Y/n. Just call me Neteyam, Neteyam is… fine." said, giving you a sweet smile. "And don’t worry about talking too much, as I said I like your voice, it's soft and beautiful. In addition I’m used to my little sister, I’m a great listener… especially for the right voices" His eyes slipped on your lips almost instinctively, feeling in your mouth a strange sweetish taste, as if he had already tasted your lips. "Anyway, what’s a Tayrangi doing in the Omatikaya forests? I don’t remember being warned, especially if the Tayrangi in question belongs to the Olo'eykte family" he asked gently, without taking his hand off your chin, enjoying your soft, warm skin. "To be honest? I ran away from the clan in the middle of the night because I wanted to visit the Omatikaya forest" you took a short break, slightly backing up, biting your lip as you confessed. "You know, my clan has beautiful coasts, beautiful beaches, a lovely sea and small woods but… we don’t have such beautiful forests, such tall trees and so much lovely greenery. My mother doesn’t want me to leave the clan alone because of the sky people, so if I asked for permission she would have denied me… so, you know, I ran. I know it is not something honorable as the daughter of an Olo'eykte, but I am very responsible, I swear…" You smiled slightly, without looking at him. "I’m just curious, and a bit rebellious, yes." You hoped your words had not horrified Neteyam, knowing him by his reputation as a strong warrior with solid principles. Your heart began to beat fast as he laughed at your confession as he passed a hand through the braids.

< He laughed… is good thing, no? > you thought. The excitement in your voice was as evident as the sincere wonder in your eyes, and this warmed the heart of Neteyam, fascinated by your carefree and ruthless sincerity, but especially by that rebellious streak that characterized you. "Are you telling me that you fled in the middle of the night, unbeknownst to your mother who is also Olo'eykte, because you wanted to see the forest and the trees of my clan?" asked him with amazement, looking at you. You nodded enthusiastically as you blushed slightly. < Wonderful. > he thought, even more enchanted by you.

"You are… I have no words to describe you, but there is nothing wrong with wanting to explore the beauty of a place, curiosity makes us alive, but you should not run away in the middle of the night, it could be dangerous" You smiled at his statement, heartened that he did not have the same thought as the elders of your clan. " Aren’t you afraid of getting into trouble?" "Hmm? Oh no, I’m used to getting into trouble. This is a 'trouble' bigger than the others, but certainly smaller than the future ones" you admitted while smiling, shrugging. "Let’s just say I’m lucky I’m not the oldest. Too many expectations, too many burdens, commitments and duties, the perfect daughter who will one day become Olo'eykte. Fortunately Ney'nari is the eldest daughter, and this burden is all hers, and she is fine with it. I am a free spirit, that is. The more you try to slow me down, the faster I run, you know. Life is one, so why follow the rules if I’m not hurting anyone, right?" Neteyam looked at you mesmerized, knowing that you had all that rebellious character that he lacked, and he felt attracted to you like never before. He felt he already knew what your character or thoughts were, and he found you so wildly perfect "I’m sure my mother will yell at me and I’ll have trouble with her, but… look how beautiful this forest is. These trees are beautiful, and the sounds? Ahh lovely! I was just curious, and now I’m fascinated, your clan’s forest is… mesmerizing. It’s the risk to take for a wonderful… experience. Wonderful, isn’t it?" Your voice became sweeter and more excited as you looked around with enchantment, breathing the cool breeze.

Neteyam’s eyes did not come away from you even for a second, enchanted by your being. "Yes, wonderful…" He said breathless, not meaning the forest at that moment. You looked at him and smiled once more as his heart beat and recovered, rushing suddenly, noticing your freckles shining under the lights of the forest. "Yes. The forest is wonderful. Even though I grew up there, I can’t help but agree with you, ma Tanhì…?" Neteyam used that nickname almost naturally "Tanhì?" you asked, approaching him. You weren’t annoyed, you recognized that nickname, you knew it was something that belonged to you, something you were used to, but you weren’t sure about that.

"I’m sorry, it just… I don’t know, it just came naturally to me" Neteyam said embarrassingly, squinting as if to recover himself. The heart beats faster to both, butterflies in the stomach fly wildly and every gesture, every word exchanged, seems full of meaning. "Don’t you feel like you’re…" you interrupted him. "Experiencing something you’ve already experienced?" you completed his sentence, and even this gesture reminded you of phantom memories, as if you were used to doing it. "Yes…" he whispered. "I just feel so.." fu Neteyam to interrupt you now. "at peace with you around." You smiled nodding "Yeah..". You started laughing together because of that innocent harmony of completed sentences and then looking at each other, falling into each other’s eyes. A look that sparked a spark of familiarity in your intimate. Even if you two can’t explain why, you feel a kind of deep connection that seems to go back a long time. Eyes that you had already loved once, souls that were already united in the past, as if you already knew, every single detail. Neteyam could see you all the way, as if your eyes were not a mirror of your soul, but a door he already had the keys to.

"I don’t know why but your eyes are so familiar, and also your voice… and your scent" You started, and then took a deep breath. "Have you been in my clan before, maybe?" Your eyes did not come off even for a second from his, and he did the same. "No, never… that I remember, never. But I don’t know why I feel I’ve been once, maybe for the Day of Atonement we met in some clan… I have vague memories of a forest near a precipice" he said, laughing and then looking for the warmth of your hand. "and it’s as if I’ve already felt your touch on my skin" he concluded "No, no way, on that day I am always in my clan. But I too remember a forest and a precipice… Near the village of my clan there is a similar precipice, overlooking the beach" Your eyes fell on your hand laid on that of Neteyam. "I feel the same." you answered with a thread of voice.

"I’m so sure I’ve seen you before, but I don’t know where…" You started talking, and then you laughed sarcastically, carrying some braids behind your ear. "Maybe in a past life we were connected? Do you think?" Her voice was sweet, and a smile painted on her lips as she watched you hypnotized. "No, I don’t think… I never would have had a partner in my previous life, just like I didn’t want in this life. Remember? free spirit, no bond or…" he interrupted you "Duty? isn’t it? You’re the kind of girl who doesn’t want to be connected because she’s free and rebellious and knows that no one can love or accept this rebellious side of you, and you don’t want to be below anyone because you have a strong temper. It’s you, right?" Neteyam took the words out of your mouth. You swallow with a nod, and then you feel some twinges in your head, like memories that were flocking and unlocking one behind the other with speed never seen. "How do you…" you whispered in disbelief. "I don’t know, I just know" he said. "You and I, we met, if not in this, in another life. I feel it, my heart feels it, my body and my mind. Isn’t it the same for you?" His voice was intrinsic of sweetness, hope and almost dreamet memories. You nodded watching him mesmerized. "Maybe… In another life, it can be. It is said that Eywa always brings his children together, maybe we were friends or family.. or "he looked at you, smiling when you paused. "Lovers?" he completed the sentence for you. You blushed and laughed. The heart that was pushing against your chest, as if to get to Neteyam’s, your stomach shaking, and the breath that was missing, were all feelings you had already experienced in some part of your mind. Your hand still stands on Neteyam’s, finding it comforting, experiencing a great sense of déjà vu experienced by both. "Yes… lovers"

You walked away from him, taking long deep breaths, not fully realizing what you had said. Neteyam’s eyes looked at your back as you turned your back, approached you carefully and then laid a hand on your shoulder. "Hey, it’s not something bad. Maybe we were just two people on the same wavelength, you know, not necessarily lovers. You are a free spirit after all, I doubt that in another life I did not appreciate this character of yours, at least not less than I am appreciating it now" His voice was warm and gentle, almost comfortable as he tried to reassure you. "It’s not that, it’s just… weird. We just met and it seems like we’ve known each other since time immemorial, I’m not used to these things" You admitted, while your stomach was knotted and it was making you little twinges. "Maybe I should… go… I don’t want to take any more time, you were hunting, right?" "Actually I’m not wasting my time, and hunting can wait. You wanted to get to know the Omatikaya forest, didn’t you? I was born and raised in these forests, I could take you to all the places you can’t imagine." He reached out to you, hopeful. You looked at him uncertain. "You’d get in trouble. I escaped from my clan by disobeying my Olo'eykte, besides I’m in the forest of your clan without warning, how many rules am I breaking? And you would be my accomplice." You admitted worried about him, knowing his spotless reputation. "You said yourself that life is one and that the rules should not be followed, we do nothing wrong" He replied looking into your eyes hopeful. "You’re gonna get in trouble, and I’m twice as bad for ruining your reputation, plus it’s gonna be late and your parents are gonna be mad, you’re not gonna be able to hunt, and-" he laughed and grabbed your hand. "Just say yes, and I will work hard to offer you only the best. I will bring the stars down to you if you ask me" This sentence he said sounded so familiar in your head, as if he had already once told you. "Ma Tanhì, just yes." Your hearts were beating at the same pace, on the same wavelength, as you swallowed the knot in your throat that you created when you were looking for excuses not to get him into trouble. " Yes…" you whispered, and then you heard Neteyam’s smile.

The sense of déjà vu grew stronger in the hours you spent together. Neteyam took you to observe the forest with his Ikran, holding on tight to him, as your Ikran was still too tired from the night journey. He showed you the Hallelujah Mountains where there were some free Ikran in the sky and others who rested in their house; he also took you where their Home Tree had previously been. He made you explore the forest as much as possible, enjoying your amazed eyes and excited voice at every unknown thing he showed you, feeling truly free, even in his presence. There was something inside of you that told you it was okay to trust him, that you could be yourself, let yourself go without fear because he had already understood you, he was already seeing you. When the day ended you felt full of joy for having seen all those wonderful places, while Neteyam fell once again first, loving you, reflecting your happiness over something so small that he almost took it for granted

From that day you ran away from home more and more often, taking him to do the same to come to your clan. Every emotion, every laugh, outing, dating, complaint, quarrel, word or kiss that followed in the following months all seemed already experienced, as if you two had already belonged to you once and now found yourself to love you again under the blessing of Eywa.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Notes:

Yes, if you were wondering this is a parallel "déjà-vu" of the story "The Way of Love - Neteyam x Tayrangi Reader". I wanted to write about how Neteyam and Y/n could meet if she remained the rebellious and carefree second daughter, with Ney'nari alive and mated with Tul'pey, Ikeyni more accommodating etc… I love to think that soul mates meet in infinite ways in all universes, and that that sense of "already lived" is caused by all the lives lived together in other places.

I could have written a lot better, but in my mind Neteyam and y/n in one of these universes met and fell in love like this.Y/n rebellious and free, going against everything and everyone, disobeying, and Neteyam the one who keeps her down, who is caring and accompanies her in all her adventures… Influencing each other positively and negatively, falling in love again, again and again with the same eyes and the same things. Complementing each other.

Yes, I like to weave all my stories, always. I hope you enjoyed this niche of sweetness, ma Syulang 🙨 <3

-Mel

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔　　　. 　　˚　　　　*　　　　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　

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coolbeans32 · 1 year ago

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Echoes of Destiny: The Serpent and the Phoenix

PAIRING: Tom Riddle x F!Reader (OC)

SYNOPSIS: After exploring Genevieve's memories, Harry, Ron, and Hermione are stunned to learn that her supposed death triggered Tom Riddle's descent into darkness. They grapple with feelings of disbelief and anger, particularly directed towards Dumbledore, whom they feel betrayed by for failing to save Genevieve. Genevieve reveals Dumbledore's manipulative nature and proposes an alternative to destroying the Horcruxes: a complex ritual to mend Riddle's fractured soul. Intrigued by the possibility of defeating Voldemort, they embark on a journey to locate the remaining Horcruxes, guided by Genevieve's knowledge and fueled by determination.

WARNINGS: This chapter involves themes of death, violence, dark magic, betrayal, themes of manipulation, and emotional turmoil which may be distressing for some readers.

WORD COUNT: 2.1k

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Chapter Nine

An Alliance

As Harry, Ron, and Hermione reflected on Genevieve's memories, they were met with a shocking revelation. The truth behind Tom Riddle's descent into darkness, triggered by Genevieve's supposed death, left them reeling with disbelief and anger.

Harry's reaction was visceral, his anger simmering just beneath the surface as he struggled to come to terms with Dumbledore's apparent lack of action to save his own daughter. How could the man he had admired and trusted for so long stand by and allow such a tragedy to unfold? It felt like a betrayal, a harsh reminder that even those we idolize can have flaws and make grave mistakes.

"I can't believe this... Dumbledore knew all along? He let you... his own daughter... die?" Harry exclaimed in such disbelief.

Hermione's brow furrowed with concern, her mind racing as she tried to process the implications of Genevieve's revelations. The idea that Dumbledore might not be the paragon of goodness she had always believed in shook her to the core. It challenged everything she thought she knew about right and wrong, good and evil.

“Why would he do that? It doesn't make any sense. How could someone do something as terrible as letting your own family die in front of you!" Hermione exasperated.

Ron's expression mirrored the shock and disbelief etched on his friends' faces. He couldn't wrap his head around the idea that Dumbledore, the wise and compassionate headmaster of Hogwarts, could be capable of such callousness. It was a bitter pill to swallow, a harsh reality that shattered his faith in the authority figures he had looked up to for guidance.

"It's mad, isn't it? I mean, we always thought Dumbledore was this great, wise wizard, but... this changes everything." Ron said in a cold tone.

As they grappled with their emotions, Genevieve spoke up, her voice steady and resolute despite the weight of her words. "Because Dumbledore isn't who you think he is. He's not the benevolent old wizard you've been led to believe. He's a manipulator, a puppet master pulling the strings behind the scenes." She reminded them that the Dumbledore they knew was not the same as the one she had known. Behind his facade of benevolence lay a cunning manipulator, someone willing to sacrifice lives to further his own agenda.

"But why? What does he gain from all of this?" Harry asked.

“Power, Harry. Control. He's always been obsessed with it. He'll do whatever it takes to gather those who will fight for his cause, even if it means sacrificing his own blood. Trust me for many years, I could never understand such a thing, especially so young. All I wanted was his approval and validation. I had ignored it for so long, until I could no longer…Let me tell you about the mission Dumbledore sent me on when I was just fourteen..."As she spoke, the memories flooded back, transporting them all to a time long before the darkness had engulfed their world.

"It was during my fourth year at Hogwarts," Genevieve began, her voice tinged with a mixture of nostalgia and sorrow. "Dumbledore approached me one day with a task - a mission that he said was of the utmost importance." Harry leaned forward, his eyes fixed on Genevieve, eager to hear her story.

"He told me that there was a powerful artifact hidden deep within an abandoned forest in Albania," Genevieve continued, her gaze distant as she recalled the events of that fateful day. "A relic of great significance, one that could tip the scales in the battle against darkness." Ron and Hermione exchanged glances, their curiosity piqued by Genevieve's words.

"I was young and naive, eager to prove myself to Dumbledore and to prove that I was worthy of his trust," Genevieve admitted, a hint of regret coloring her voice. "So, without hesitation, I agreed to undertake the mission as I had so many before." As she spoke, the scene unfolded before them, the abandoned forest looming dark and foreboding in the distance.

"I ventured into the depths of the forest, guided only by the light of my wand and the whispers of the trees," Genevieve recounted, her voice trembling slightly with emotion. "But as I drew closer to my destination, I realized that I was not alone." Harry's heart raced as he listened to Genevieve's tale, his mind conjuring images of the dangers that lurked within the forest.

"I encountered creatures of darkness, creatures that sought to thwart my mission at every turn," Genevieve continued, her voice growing more intense with each passing moment. "But I pressed on, driven by the belief that I was doing what was right." Ron and Hermione listened in rapt attention, their expressions reflecting a mixture of awe and concern.

"And then, finally, I reached the heart of the forest, where the artifact lay hidden," Genevieve said, her voice filled with a sense of awe and reverence. "But as I reached out to claim it, I realized the true cost of my actions." Harry's breath caught in his throat as he waited for Genevieve to reveal the outcome of her mission.

"The artifact was cursed, Harry," Genevieve whispered, her voice barely above a whisper. "A curse so dark and powerful that it threatened to consume me whole." Ron and Hermione gasped in horror, their eyes wide with shock at the revelation.

"I barely managed to escape with my life," Genevieve admitted, her voice trembling with emotion. "But the experience changed me, Harry. It showed me that Dumbledore's quest for power knows no bounds, that he will stop at nothing to achieve his goals." Harry felt a surge of anger and determination coursing through his veins as he listened to Genevieve's words.

Genevieve took a deep breath and said, “I fear he is doing the same thing again, with you three…I assume he gave you a task to complete to save the Wizarding World, did he not?”

Harry looked at her, puzzled at how she seemed to know everything, even without knowing anything of their current situation. “Yeah, well…he told me to hunt for Tom’s horcruxes to destroy them…I really don't know why aside from my connection with Vol-I mean Riddle.”

Genevieve looked at him with concern and anger at how her father could still make people, especially children, do his dirty work. “Hunt for Tom’s Horcruxes…is…is he mad?!” Genevieve exclaimed. “Don’t you know how dangerous that is? To destroy them on your own?”

Ron spoke up, “Well, technically…he already did second year without knowing with that snake- what’s it called?”

Hermione rolled her eyes and said, “It’s called a Basilisk, Ronald.” Hermione turned to Genevieve, “He destroyed the horcrux with the Basilisk's fang after he killed it.”

Genevieve’s eyes opened extremely wide, mouth agape, “You killed Seraphina? With what exactly?”

Harry, stuttering, said, “With umm…Gryffindor’s sword. In the chamber. Tom was really mad about it.”

Genevieve rolled her eyes, “Of course he was, he was practically glued to Seraphina.” She then asked, “Wait, Tom was there? How?”

Harry explained, “Well it was a memory of him to be exact, he said how he preserved his memory in his diary, the one engraved with his name. After I killed the Basilisk, I kind of realized that maybe destroying the diary could destroy him…It did, and it wasn’t til later I learned it was a horcrux…I was just trying to save a friend but he did say he wanted to meet me, loads of stuff happened that year…Well every year but that’s the jist.”

Genevieve, as she was learning more about what had occurred, couldn’t hold back on one certain detail. “That pompous arsehole…How dare he defile my GIFT into his stupid little dark magic obsession…Oh when I bring him back I’m going to hex his little arse!” She exclaimed angrily.

Ron snorted and Hermione jabbed him shoulder with her fist. Ron, stared rubbing his shoulder, “Bloody hell woman, why’d you have to keep hitting me.”

Hermione retaliated, “Maybe if you would be a little bit less dense, I wouldn’t need to.”

Harry watched the two with Genevieve. Genevive, forgetting her anger at Tom, smiled and whispered to Harry, “You know, they remind me of when I was with Tom. Bickering and arguing like a married couple.”

Harry whispered back with a wry grin, “They can’t seem to admit that they’re in love with each other. Trust me, they’re both so stubborn about it.”

Genevieve quietly laughed as she continued to observe Ron and Hermione’s bickering. “I take it that Ron is the oblivious one. He kind of reminds me of Tom, but a really less serious version with the intellect of a bird, at least academically. Ron seems to be the type to know a lot about life rather than school, but without anyone really getting that impression from his behavior.”

Harry joins in on the laughter. “Yeah, he does. He’s a great friend…we’ve had our ups and downs but he knows more than he leads on.”

Genevieve grins. “I figured and I can definitely see myself in your friend Hermione. The stubborn one, trying to get Tom to realize I fancy him. Took him so long, but he eventually got there.” As Harry and Genvieve watch Ron and Hermione, it became evident to them that they were watching. Both Ron and Hermione blush and apologize for steering away from the stakes at hand.

“No worries dears,” Genevieve says. “I do have to ask. Why destroy the horcruxes?”

Harry turns to her, a little confused, “What do you mean by that? Isn’t that how we take care of them?”

Genevieve turns to Harry, “No, there is another way. It’s a bit more complex, but less dangerous.”

Hermione, interest piqued, “What do you mean by that?”

Genevieve turns to all of them and blows their mind with what she says. “Why instead of destroying them, fix them by stitching the soul back together? Kind of similar to reviving a person, but this time, a soul?”

Ron, eyes bugged out, “You can do that?”

Genevieve smiled mischievously, “We’re wizards and witches aren’t we?”

Harry, mind boggled as well, answers her hypothetical question, “Well…yeah…I guess.”

She laughs at his response, “Well, there is a ritual. Except, this ritual is quite advanced and requires for all the vessels to be aligned in a room by order of making, and the ritual will help us stitch back Tom’s soul and ultimately, we can bring him back to life, with a fully intact soul.”

Hermione asks with such curiosity, “Do you really think we can pull off such a thing?”

Genevieve replies seriously, “I think so. The only hard part about it is finding the Horcruxes and for those that were already destroyed, we may need to pull up more magical tricks up our sleeves to bring back the vessel to its undamaged state.”

Harry, secretly excited of the adventure this journey might bring, asks, “So we have to find all seven horcruxes in order to do this?”

Genevieve turns and clarifies with an astonished face, “Seven…You mean he made seven fucking horcruxes.”

Harry nods, “Yeah, he made seven. And, that’s kind of what we’ve been doing. Trying to find them. The only ones we have are the diary and the Gaunt ring.”

She turns, trying to reduce the anger of hearing the extent of what Tom had done. “I…Alright, we’re going to need to figure out what the rest of the vessels are. We have two destroyed ones, in which we'll need to retrieve their intact counterparts. If I know Tom at all, he definitely created vessels in honor of either his bloodline or Hogwarts itself. Before me, Hogwarts was his only home. I wouldn’t be surprised if he chose to use relics symbolizing Hogwarts.”

Hermione pipes in, “We have a clue for finding the next Horcrux, but we need a bit of help to unravel it.”

Genevieve smiles at the trio and says, “Great, the faster we start, the quicker I can revive Tom, the faster I can beat his arse for being a complete idiot and say ‘I told you so’.” She moves to grab some books from the Black library, knowing that she would find some illegal texts to perform the ritual. Ron, Harry, and Hermione all look at each other, hoping to run high to end this war.

Harry breaks the silence first, “Guess, we’re doing this huh? Never thought I’d see the day where I’m saving Riddle.”

Hermione chimes in, slightly dazed at all the information she had just heard, “But if we save Riddle, he’d be back to who he originally was…He’d be the key to destroying his counterpart…Destroy Voldemort.”

Ron agrees, “Looks like we just made our first ally in this task.”

Harry nods and breathes before responding, “Looks like it.”

Taglist: @wheenerrr @jillian2003

Tom Riddle Masterlist

#harry potter #tom marvolo riddle #tom riddle #harry potter fandom #harry potter fanfiction #slytherin #tom riddle fanfiction #tom riddle x oc #tom riddle x reader

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writingsoftarnishedsilver · 5 months ago

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The Estate | Sebastian Sallow x OC #63

Summary: Sebastian and Evangeline infiltrate the Muldoon family manor, and confront them about their manipulation of Evangeline's life. What they learn shocks them both.

Words: ~17,800 (holy shit this is a long chapter sorry)

Tags: Pureblood Politics, Mutual Pining, Friends to Lovers, Drama, Idiots in Love

Timeline: Mid September

Read more stories about Sebastian and Evangeline

Read on AO3

The Ministry of Magic was quiet at this hour, its vast atrium bathed in the dim glow of enchanted lamps. The faint echo of their footsteps bounced off the polished marble floors as Evangeline and Sebastian made their way toward the lifts. Evangeline’s heart thudded against her ribs, her mind racing as she tried not to think about the possibility that they were too late.

Please still be here, she thought, clutching the strap of her bag tightly. The Records Department would already be winding down for the day. If they missed Genevieve now, the chance to find the Muldoons might slip through their fingers, and the thought of waiting even one more day was unbearable.

Beside her, Sebastian walked with his usual composed stride, his wand held loosely in one hand. “You alright?” he asked, his voice breaking through her spiraling thoughts.

She glanced at him, her expression tight. “I’m fine,” she replied shortly, her nerves betraying her. “I just… we can’t miss her, Sebastian. If she’s already gone—”

“We won’t,” he interrupted, his voice steady. “And if we do, we’ll find another way. Relax, Evie. We’ve got this.”

His confidence grounded her, if only slightly, as they stepped into the lift. The ride felt interminable, each ding of the glowing numbers above the door ratcheting up Evangeline's tension. She fidgeted with the strap of her bag, her thoughts bouncing between the instructions she hoped to get from Genevieve and the potential disaster that awaited them at the Muldoon estate.

When the lift doors finally slid open, Evangeline was the first to step out, her sharp gaze sweeping the hallway ahead. The Records Department was tucked at the end of the corridor, its wide double doors propped open, and she could see faint movement inside.

“Come on,” she said, quickening her pace.

Sebastian followed close behind, his presence a steadying force as they entered the department. The room was dimly lit, most of the desks already cleared for the day, and only a handful of witches and wizards remained, finishing their tasks in silence.

Her eyes scanned the space until they landed on a familiar figure near the back: Genevieve Thorn, her sharp profile illuminated by the glow of a magical lamp. She was meticulously packing a briefcase, her movements efficient and precise as always. Relief flooded Evangeline, and she let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.

“There,” she whispered, nodding toward Genevieve.

“Just in time,” Sebastian murmured, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

Evangeline didn’t wait for him to catch up. She strode across the room, her boots clicking against the floor, her pulse quickening as she approached Genevieve.

“Genevieve? Genevieve Thorn?” she called, her voice firm but not loud enough to disturb the others.

The woman looked up sharply, her gray eyes narrowing in confusion as they landed on Evangeline. “...Miss Sterling?” she said, her tone clipped and cautious. “What are you doing here?”

Evangeline stopped at the edge of the desk, gripping the strap of her bag to steady herself. “I need your help,” she said, her voice resolute. “It’s about the Muldoons.”

Genevieve’s expression flickered, her sharp features tightening with something that might have been apprehension. “The Muldoons?” she repeated slowly, her gaze darting to Sebastian and back.

“Yes,” Evangeline said, leaning slightly forward. “I need to know how to get to their estate.”

Genevieve��s lips pressed into a thin line, and she straightened her posture, her hands hovering protectively over the briefcase. “...That’s not information I can just hand out, Miss Sterling. The Muldoons are a private family, and they don’t take kindly to uninvited guests.”

Evangeline’s chest tightened, but she didn’t back down. “But I am a Muldoon. And this isn’t just about curiosity,” she said, her voice steady but urgent. “Someone has been sending me threats—letters—and I need to put a stop to them. Please, Genevieve. You’re the only one who can help me.”

Genevieve’s sharp gaze flicked to Sebastian again, her wariness deepening. “And... who is this?”

“Sebastian Sallow,” he said smoothly, stepping forward with an easy confidence that belied the tension in the room. "From the Auror Division."

"And your relation to Miss Sterling is…?"

Sebastian’s smirk widened slightly, his dark eyes glinting with mischief as he leaned casually on the desk. “I’m her boyfriend,” he said smoothly, his tone light but carrying an edge of confidence. “And backup, of course. Can’t let her storm off into danger alone, can I?”

Genevieve’s gaze flicked back to Evangeline, her expression unreadable. “What exactly do you plan to do if the Muldoons are behind these threats you speak of?”

“I’ll do whatever it takes,” Evangeline responded simply. “So tell me where to find them. I wouldn’t be asking if it wasn’t important.”

For a moment, Genevieve said nothing, her gaze flicking between the two of them. Then she sighed, her stern demeanor softening slightly. “The Muldoons are not a family you approach lightly, Miss Sterling. Even as one of their own, you’ll be met with suspicion at best, hostility at worst.”

“I don’t care how hostile they are,” Evangeline said firmly. “If they’re responsible for the threats, I need to confront them. And if they aren’t, then I need to know that too. Sitting around doing nothing isn’t an option.”

Genevieve sighed deeply, rubbing her temple as though Evangeline had given her a headache. “I must be mad to even consider this,” she muttered before opening her briefcase and pulling out a worn leather-bound notebook.

She flipped through the pages, muttering to herself as she skimmed the notes. Finally, she stopped on a page filled with hastily scrawled diagrams and coordinates. “The estate is in Ireland,” she began, her voice brisk. “Hidden deep within the Wicklow Mountains. It’s protected by layers of enchantments designed to keep out unwanted visitors—Muggles, wizards, it doesn’t matter. The wards are indiscriminate.”

Sebastian leaned forward, his expression calm but resolute. “Just give us the coordinates,” he said evenly. “Whatever wards they’ve got, we’ll deal with them.”

Genevieve studied them both for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Then, with a resigned sigh, she grabbed a blank piece of parchment and began jotting down the coordinates, her quill scratching against the page.

"But just so we’re clear, if anyone asks, this conversation never happened. I’ve broken approximately fifty protocols doing this for you, Miss Sterling," She fixed Evangeline with a pointed glance. "Don’t make me regret this.”

Evangeline nodded, tucking the parchment carefully into her bag. “Understood. I’ll make sure no one finds out. Thank you again.”

Genevieve sighed, her sharp gray eyes softening slightly. “Just… be careful. Now go, before I change my mind and hex you both out of here.”

Quickly thanking Genevieve once more, Evangeline turned toward the door, Sebastian falling into step beside her. The tension between them was palpable as they made their way back through the Ministry’s dim corridors. When they reached the atrium, Sebastian reached out, catching her hand in his.

As they walked, Evangeline studied the hastily scrawled coordinates. The jagged script mapped out a location deep in the Wicklow Mountains of Ireland, but the details raised a troubling question.

“How are we supposed to get there?” she murmured, mostly to herself. “We can’t Apparate to a place we’ve never been, and I doubt the Floo Network connects to a hidden estate.”

Sebastian, holding her hand, glanced over her shoulder at the parchment. “I’ve got an idea,” he said casually, though there was a spark of mischief in his tone.

She folded the parchment carefully and slipped it into her bag, crossing her arms as she gave him a pointed look. “Alright, Sallow. Let’s hear it.”

“We Apparate as close as we can to the general area,” he explained. “And then we travel the rest of the way on broomstick."

Evangeline frowned, the tension in her chest not entirely easing. "Where can we possibly apparate to that's anywhere close by? And what if we accidentally fly straight into one of their wards?"

Sebastian tilted his head, his grin softening into something more reassuring. “Evie, it’s not like we’re flying blind. We have the coordinates. We'll land far enough away to avoid any wards."

Evangeline sighed. “You still haven’t answered my other question though,” she pressed. “We need a specific location to Apparate to, one we can clearly visualize. Ireland isn’t exactly around the corner, and you know how dangerous it is to travel over that kind of distance.”

Sebastian smirked, clearly unfazed by her skepticism. "Details, details. We'll sort that out after." He tugged on her hand, leading her toward a corridor branching off from the main room.

“Where are we going?” she asked, trying to keep the exasperation out of her voice as she hurried to keep up with his long strides.

“To the Auror Division,” he replied nonchalantly.

Evangeline’s eyes narrowed. "Why?"

"Where else are we going to procure broomsticks at this time of night?" Sebastian countered as they rounded a corner.

Evangeline groaned, the corners of her mouth twitching despite herself. “Sebastian, I don’t think ‘procure’ is the right word for what you’re doing.”

He threw her a devilish grin over his shoulder. "Evie, I work there. They’re my broomsticks. Well, technically, they’re the Ministry’s broomsticks, but let’s not get hung up on details.”

Her lips twitched despite herself. “You mean to tell me that you’re allowed to requisition Ministry equipment for personal use?”

Sebastian shrugged, his grin widening. “Not exactly. But considering this is an off-the-books mission to uncover death threats sent to a young woman—who also happens to be the woman I’m madly in love with—I think we can make an exception.”

Evangeline stumbled slightly, her face heating at the casual way he’d said it. “Sebastian,” she hissed, glancing around to make sure no one had overheard. “You can’t just—”

“ I meant what I said,” he interrupted, coming to a stop in front of a heavy wooden door marked Auror Division—Authorized Personnel Only.

Before she could respond, he'd unlocked the door, ushering her inside. Desks were still scattered with case files and enchanted quills, but the space was empty at this hour.

Sebastian strode confidently toward a set of storage lockers along the far wall, pulling a key from his pocket and unlocking one of the compartments.

Evangeline crossed her arms, watching as he retrieved two sleek broomsticks, their polished handles glinting faintly in the low light. He tossed one over his shoulder and carried the other in his free hand as he returned to her side.

“Ta-da,” he said, presenting the broomsticks with a flourish. “Top-of-the-line Ministry brooms. Fast, durable, and enchantment-resistant. Perfect for a little adventure in the Irish countryside.”

She raised an eyebrow. “And if someone notices they’re missing?”

“They won’t. Besides, it’s for a good cause. And I’ll bring them back in one piece.... probably," he teased, handing her one of the broomsticks. “Now, are you ready to go storm the Muldoon estate?”

Evangeline took the broom, her fingers tightening around the smooth handle as she met his gaze. Despite the absurdity of the situation, she felt a flicker of confidence, bolstered by his unwavering determination.

“Let’s do it,” she said, her voice firm.

Sebastian’s grin softened into something warmer as he reached for her free hand, giving it a brief squeeze. “That’s my girl.”

Her heart skipped at the words, but she didn’t let herself dwell on them. Together, they turned and left the Auror Division, their footsteps echoing in the quiet corridors as they made their way back toward the atrium. The anticipation of what lay ahead buzzed in the air between them, both exhilarating and daunting.

The only question left was where they'd apparate to. Evangeline sighed, mulling it over. She opened her mouth to ask Sebastian for his thoughts, but the words caught in her throat.

An idea, unbidden but suddenly clear, swept over her. She could visualize a place—a place she knew in detail, down to the creaking floorboards and the ivy crawling up its crumbling walls.

St. Brigid’s House.

The memory of the weather-worn orphanage on the Irish coast surfaced, vivid and bittersweet. She could still see its stone facade, battered by the salt-laden wind, the overgrown garden that no one had tended in years, and the narrow gravel path leading to the wooden front door. It had been her home before Hogwarts, a secluded corner of the world, tucked away where few cared to look.

“I know where we can go,” she said softly, her voice cutting through the cool night air. "Where we can apparate."

Sebastian stopped, turning to her with a raised eyebrow. “Oh? Where?”

“St. Brigid’s House,” she replied, her tone steady but tinged with a quiet weight. “The orphanage where I grew up. I know it well enough to get us there safely.”

Sebastian’s brow furrowed, his teasing smirk slipping into a more serious expression. “Are you sure? We can't afford to be seen by any muggles."

Evangeline nodded, her grip on the strap of her bag tightening slightly. “There’s an old mill house on the property, just beyond the orphanage grounds. It’s been abandoned for decades—no one will see us there., especially not with the cover of night on our side.”

Sebastian held her gaze for a moment longer before nodding, his expression softening. “Alright. If you’re sure, let’s do it.”

Drawing her wand, Evangeline tightened her grip on his hand. “Hold on."

Closing her eyes, she focused on the image of the mill house—the jagged stone walls overrun with moss, the uneven ground littered with wildflowers, and the faint smell of damp earth and salt.

With a sharp twist, the air around them compressed, the pull of apparition wrenching them from the Ministry and into the ether. The sensation was familiar yet unsettling, a rush of wind and pressure that seemed to stretch eternity into seconds.

When the world righted itself, they landed with a soft pop on uneven ground. Evangeline opened her eyes, and they stood inside the weathered structure, its stone walls half-collapsed and overrun with ivy. Moonlight spilled through the missing roof, illuminating the interior in a faint, silvery glow.

Sebastian released her hand, his gaze sweeping the area with quiet curiosity. “I see what you mean about it being abandoned,” he said, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

Evangeline barely registered Sebastian’s words as her gaze shifted, drawn toward the orphanage in the distance.

St. Brigid’s House stood quiet and imposing under the moonlight, its weathered stone walls illuminated by the faint glow of lights from within the windows. Her breath hitched at the sight, a strange, bittersweet ache blooming in her chest.

She hadn’t thought of this place for a long time—at least, not like this, not with the weight of all the memories pressing down on her. She could still hear the creak of the floorboards, the way the wind howled through the cracks in the old wooden door, the faint laughter of children echoing in the halls. And yet, despite the faint glow from its windows, it still felt as lonely as ever.

Sebastian, noticing her silence, followed her gaze. His brow furrowed as he studied the building, its silhouette stark against the darkened sky.

He stepped closer, slipping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her gently against him. She stiffened slightly at first, caught off guard, but then relaxed into his warmth, her head resting lightly against his chest.

"It must be strange... being back here," He murmured against her hair.

Evangeline nodded faintly. "It feels… frozen in time. Like nothing’s changed, but everything’s different.”

Sebastian tightened his arm around her, his voice quiet but steady. "I... can’t imagine what it must have been like growing up here."

She let out a soft, humorless laugh. "Lonely. That’s the best word for it. The other kids came and went, but I… I stayed. For years. Always hoping, always waiting, but no one ever came for me."

Her voice wavered, the ache in her chest blooming sharper as she spoke the words aloud. "I hated it here, Sebastian. I hated how small and forgotten it made me feel. But it was all I had. For a long time, it was the only place I belonged."

Sebastian glanced back at the orphanage, its quiet, stoic presence casting a shadow that seemed to stretch far beyond its walls, his brow furrowing. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

"As long as I'm around, you'll never be alone again, Evangeline."

She closed her eyes, the warmth of his words wrapping around her like a blanket, the tension in her chest easing just enough to allow her to breathe deeply again. She straightened her shoulders.

"Come on," she murmured against his chest. "The Muldoon estate isn’t going to find itself."

Sebastian broke their embrace gently, his hand sliding down her arm as he stepped back, his gaze lingering on her face for a moment. “Alright, Sterling,” he said softly, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “Lead the way.”

They mounted their brooms, the soft rustle of leaves and the faint roar of distant waves filling the silence around them. With a shared glance, they kicked off, rising smoothly into the night sky. The wind whipped around them as they soared higher, the vast expanse of stars stretching endlessly above.

It was exhilarating, but Evangeline’s stomach churned as a realization hit her like a Bludger. She cursed softly under her breath, gripping the broomstick tighter.

“What is it?” Sebastian called over the rush of the wind, his broom gliding effortlessly beside hers.

Evangeline winced. “I didn’t think about how we’re supposed to navigate to the coordinates,” she admitted, her voice tinged with frustration. “I don’t have a map, and I didn’t plan for—”

“Relax,” Sebastian interrupted, his tone calm and reassuring. “We’ve got the stars.”

She blinked at him. “...The stars?”

He nodded, already pulling the parchment with the coordinates from her bag. “It’s simple. We use the constellations to match the location. I’ll guide us.”

Evangeline stared at him, her brow furrowing in surprise. “Since when do you know how to navigate by the stars? You dropped Astronomy after fifth year.”

Sebastian grinned. “Auror training. They make sure you’re prepared for… well, pretty much anything. Including chasing dark wizards across remote wilderness.”

Evangeline watched as he glanced between the parchment and the sky, his brow furrowed in concentration. The moonlight cast soft shadows across his face, highlighting the sharp curve of his jaw and the determined set of his mouth.

Evangeline’s chest tightened unexpectedly. She knew she should be focused—on the Muldoons, the coordinates, the looming danger—but her thoughts kept slipping. There was something about the way Sebastian carried himself, so steady and sure, his every movement purposeful. He was so good to her, always in her corner, and he looked so effortlessly captivating just being himself—it left her breathless.

Without thinking, she reached out, her fingers brushing his face. He turned toward her, startled, and before he could say anything, she leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek.

Sebastian froze for a moment, the wind tugging at his hair as he stared at her in stunned silence. Then, a slow, crooked grin spread across his face.

“Well, that’s one way to motivate a navigator,” he teased, his tone light but carrying a warmth that made her chest flutter.

Evangeline let out a soft laugh, her cheeks warming as she pulled back slightly. “You’ve earned it,” she replied, trying to sound nonchalant despite the way her heart raced. “After all, I need you to get us there in one piece.”

Sebastian’s grin widened, his dark eyes glinting with playful affection. “With rewards like that, I’ll make sure we don’t even hit a stray gust of wind.”

Rolling her eyes, she shook her head, though the smile tugging at her lips betrayed her. “Just focus on the stars, Sallow.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he turned his attention back to the parchment and the glittering constellations above. His brow furrowed slightly as he matched the coordinates to their celestial markers.

Evangeline adjusted her grip on the broomstick and focused on the horizon. “What’s the verdict? Do you have us pointed in the right direction?”

Sebastian glanced at her, his smirk returning. “Always. Follow me.”

He angled his broom and surged ahead, the starlit sky stretching before them. Evangeline followed, the cool wind cutting through her hair as they flew in tandem.

They flew in companionable silence, the rhythmic rush of air and the occasional call of a distant owl the only sounds to break the quiet. It was peaceful in a way Evangeline hadn’t anticipated, the tension ebbing slightly as they soared through the night.

As time passed, she noticed a subtle shift in the landscape. The rolling fields grew steeper, their shadows deepening as jagged cliffs and dense woods replaced the open expanses. Mountains began to rise in the distance, their silhouettes stark against the starry backdrop.

Her grip on the broom tightened slightly, anticipation coiling in her chest. They were getting close—she could feel it.

Sebastian glanced back at her briefly, his silhouette outlined by the faint glow of moonlight. He gestured downward, and she nodded, adjusting her angle as he began to lead them into a gradual descent.

The air grew cooler as they approached the ground, the scent of damp earth and pine filling her senses. Sebastian guided them with precision, weaving through the thickening trees and avoiding rocky outcroppings with ease. He landed smoothly in a small clearing tucked between towering evergreens, the soft crunch of grass beneath his feet the only sound to mark their arrival.

Evangeline followed. She dismounted and steadied her broom, her eyes flicking to Sebastian as he folded the parchment and tucked it into his pocket

"So," he began, leaning his broomstick up against a tree. "Anymore of those rewards? I did get us here safe and sound."

Evangeline raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corners of her lips. “You really don’t miss an opportunity, do you?”

Sebastian leaned casually against his broomstick, his grin widening. “Life’s too short to pass them up.”

She rolled her eyes, but the warmth in her chest betrayed her attempt to act unimpressed. “Let’s make sure we’re in one piece after this before you start demanding any more rewards.”

Sebastian chuckled, pushing off the broomstick and stepping closer. “Fair enough. But I’m keeping a tally.”

“Of course you are,” Evangeline replied dryly, though the affection in her tone softened the words.

She turned her attention to the clearing, her gaze sweeping over the darkened woods surrounding them. The faint hum of magic in the air was unmistakable now, a subtle vibration that prickled at her senses. They were close. She pulled her wand from its holster as her focus sharpened.

Sebastian shifted his stance and drew his wand as well. His earlier playfulness slipped into something more serious as he scanned the area. “Feel that?” he asked quietly.

Evangeline nodded, her voice low. “We’re near their wards."

“Any chance we can just knock politely and hope they’re in a good mood?”

Evangeline gave him a sidelong glance. “I wouldn’t count on it.”

He sighed, his wand steady in his hand. “Well there's only one way to find out. Let’s see if the Muldoons are feeling hospitable tonight.”

Evangeline stepped forward, her wand at the ready, the faint hum of magic growing stronger with each step. The air around them seemed to thicken, charged with an almost tangible energy. It wasn’t oppressive, but it was undeniably there—a constant buzz that made the hairs on her arms stand on end.

Sebastian followed close behind, his footsteps light but deliberate, his eyes scanning their surroundings. The trees around them grew denser, their twisted branches forming a canopy that blocked out much of the starlight. Shadows danced in the faint moonlight that filtered through, casting strange shapes on the ground.

Evangeline’s pace slowed as the magic in the air became sharper, more defined. She could feel it now, like invisible threads pulling at her senses. She held up a hand, signaling for Sebastian to stop.

“There,” she whispered, pointing ahead.

Before them, a faint shimmer rippled through the air like heatwaves on a summer’s day. The ward was nearly invisible, blending seamlessly into the night, but up close, the distortion of light was unmistakable.

Sebastian tilted his head, his brow furrowing as he studied the shimmering boundary. “Subtle,” he murmured. “I wouldn’t have noticed it if you hadn’t pointed it out.”

Evangeline took a cautious step closer, her wand moving in slow, deliberate arcs as she studied the enchantments. The air grew cooler, the magic almost whispering at the edges of her consciousness. The ward was layered—she could feel the complexity of the spells interwoven, each one enhancing the next.

“What do you think?” Sebastian asked, his voice low.

Evangeline frowned, focusing on the faint shimmer. “This outer ward is reactive. It seems to... adapt based on whoever approaches it—probably tailored to the person’s intent or identity.”

Sebastian stepped closer, his wand at his side, though his posture remained tense. “So what does that mean for us? Can you get through?”

Evangeline chewed the inside of her cheek, her mind racing. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “But if it’s tied to identity… maybe having Muldoon blood will let me pass without triggering anything.”

Sebastian raised an eyebrow, his expression skeptical but curious. “And me?"

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out,” Evangeline replied, turning her attention back to the ward. She hesitated, the weight of her decision pressing down on her. If she guessed wrong, the ward could do anything from alerting the Muldoons to locking them out—or worse.

A thought struck her, and she glanced back at Sebastian. “Maybe if we’re in contact, the ward will recognize us both as safe. It’s a long shot, but it’s worth trying.”

Sebastian’s lips quirked in a faint grin. “So you’re saying you want to hold my hand?”

Evangeline rolled her eyes, but without hesitation, Sebastian reached out, his larger hand enveloping hers in a firm yet reassuring grip.

“...Ready?” he asked.

She nodded, and with a deep breath, Evangeline stepped forward, her wand steady as she moved closer to the shimmering boundary. The hum of magic grew louder, a low vibration that thrummed in her ears. She half-expected the ward to reject her the moment she approached, but instead, it shifted. The ripple of light stilled, the tension in the air loosening slightly.

Encouraged, she tightened her grip on Sebastian’s hand and took another step. The ward seemed to part for her, the shimmering light thinning and folding back like a curtain drawn aside. Her heart leapt in relief, but she didn’t know if Sebastian would pass through as easily.

She tugged him gently forward, holding her breath as he crossed the threshold with her. For a moment, the ward resisted, the shimmering barrier rippling around his figure. But then it stilled, the magic softening and retreating as if recognizing their shared intent.

Sebastian exhaled, his eyes widening slightly as he looked back at the now-quiet ward behind them. “Well, that was... smoother than I expected.”

Evangeline’s shoulders sagged in relief, though she quickly straightened, her focus returning to the task at hand. “Let’s not get too comfortable. There’s no telling what else they’ve set up between here and the estate.”

As they pressed forward, the magic in the air shifted again, and a thick fog began to roll in around them. At first, it was subtle—a faint mist curling at their feet—but within moments, it grew dense and impenetrable, swallowing the trees and the path ahead. The faint glow of the stars overhead vanished, leaving them in a dark and oppressive void.

Evangeline slowed, her free hand gripping her wand tightly as she peered into the fog. “This isn’t natural,” she murmured, her voice barely carrying in the eerie stillness.

Sebastian’s hand tightened around hers, his own wand held ready in his other hand. “Another ward,” he said grimly, his voice low. “Probably designed to disorient. Keep intruders wandering in circles until they give up or…” His words trailed off, leaving the unspoken possibilities hanging in the air.

“Or worse,” Evangeline finished quietly.

Sebastian raised his wand, the tip flaring to life with a soft glow. “Lumos.”

The light flickered weakly, sputtered, and then died, swallowed whole by the fog. He frowned, trying again with the same result.

“Of course,” he muttered under his breath.

Evangeline bit her lip, her pulse quickening as she scanned their surroundings. The fog was thick, almost tactile, curling around them in silent, shifting waves. She reached out experimentally with her wand, muttering a diagnostic spell, but the magic fizzled out before it could take shape.

She frowned. "It's... it’s like the ward was designed to counter traditional spellcasting."

Sebastian’s thumb brushed against the back of her hand, a small, grounding gesture. “Well, you’re the expert here, Miss Cursebreaker,” he said, his voice steady despite the tension in the air. “What do you think? Is there something you can do—any magic stronger than what the ward can suppress?”

She frowned, her mind darting between possibilities. “Stronger… That’s the issue. Anything traditional or conventional won’t work.”

“Then why not use something unconventional?” Sebastian suggested casually.

Evangeline blinked. “What do you mean?”

He tilted his head, the furrow of his eyebrows visible even in the gloom. “You know what I mean. Ancient magic. Hell, you’ve flattened entire camps of poachers with it. Why not a little fog?”

Evangeline hesitated, the weight of his suggestion settling over her. “I... maybe you're right."

Closing her eyes, Evangeline focused inward, seeking the familiar spark of ancient magic buried deep within her. It stirred in response, a warm, humming pulse that spread through her veins like liquid light. She exhaled slowly, raising her hand and willing the magic to rise.

The air around her shimmered faintly, a soft glow emanating from her skin. The fog reacted immediately, pulling back in swirling tendrils as if repelled by the energy. Encouraged, Evangeline pushed harder, channeling the magic outward in a slow, deliberate wave.

The fog dissipated further, peeling away in curling wisps until the path ahead became clear. Tall trees framed the trail, their gnarled branches twisting skyward, and in the distance, a faint glow marked the edges of another barrier.

She opened her eyes. The oppressive silence had lifted, replaced by the rustle of leaves in a gentle breeze. The clarity felt like a breath of fresh air.

Sebastian let out a low whistle, his gaze sweeping over the now-visible path. “You’ve outdone yourself, Evie."

Evangeline turned to him, her breath still evening out. “I wouldn’t have thought of it if you hadn’t said something. You’re brilliant, you know that?”

Sebastian’s grin widened. “I’ll add it to my list,” he added, leaning in slightly, “Since I believe this earns me another reward.”

Evangeline raised an eyebrow, but she couldn’t suppress the smile tugging at her lips. “You’re really not going to let that go, are you?”

“Not a chance,” he replied smoothly, his tone light but his expression warm. “A man’s got to take credit where it’s due.”

She shook her head, the warmth in her chest spreading. "Fine. You're right, you deserve it. Now come on, I think there's only one ward left to go."

They pressed forward, and the next barrier came into clear view. Unlike the shimmering fog, this ward was visible—an intricate lattice of golden threads woven tightly together; it stretched high above them, reaching into the treetops and forming a dome-like barrier.

Sebastian slowed to a stop beside her, his gaze fixed on the glowing threads. “This one looks... less welcoming,” he muttered, his grip tightening slightly on his wand.

Evangeline nodded, studying the barrier intently. The magic here was different—sharper, more deliberate. It didn’t hum like the fog had; it thrummed, the vibrations deep and commanding.

Her wand moved in slow, precise motions as she examined the magic. "It’s not reactive like the first one,” she said, tilting her head. “This feels like a test. A puzzle.”

Sebastian watched her work, his expression thoughtful. “Alright, so what do we do? Pick the right thread to pull? Cut the wrong one and we get blown to bits?”

Evangeline nodded, her lips pressing into a thin line. “Something like that,” she murmured, her wand tracing slow arcs through the air as she examined the glowing lattice. “But it’s not about pulling the threads. We need to find the weak point—a flaw in the weave. All wards have one. You just have to know where to look.”

Sebastian tilted his head, watching her with a mixture of curiosity and amusement. “So, this is what they’re teaching you at the Ministry, huh? Spending your days unraveling magical traps?”

She shot him a quick look, one corner of her mouth twitching upward despite the tension. “If only it were that exciting. Half the time, it’s combing through records and old manuscripts, trying to figure out why some ancient wizard decided to curse their favorite cauldron.”

"Almost as exciting as all the case reports I get to read in the Auror Division," he quipped, his smirk widening.

Evangeline smirked, her gaze flicking toward Sebastian. “One day, they’ll let us do the fun stuff. Until then, we’ll just have to make our own adventures.” She paused, raising an eyebrow at him. “Aren’t you glad I let you come along for this one?”

Sebastian chuckled, leaning casually on his wand. “Oh, absolutely. Nothing like a midnight stroll through cursed woods with you to keep things interesting.”

She chuckled, her focus shifting back to the golden lattice as she studied its intricate weave. Her wand moved in slow, deliberate arcs, tracing the faint pulses of magic that radiated from the barrier. The threads thrummed softly, their vibrations resonating in her chest as she walked.

“It’s woven so tightly,” she murmured after a moment, half to herself. “The threads are layered, overlapping..."

Sebastian stepped closer, his brow furrowed. “Can you still break through it?”

Evangeline nodded, her lips pressing into a determined line. “I just need to find the right angle..."

She continued her circuit around the barrier, her wand tip glowing faintly as she used a diagnostic spell. The golden threads rippled in response, their light dimming briefly before returning to their steady glow. Sebastian followed silently, his eyes scanning the forest around them as she worked.

After a few minutes, Evangeline stopped, her gaze locking onto a section of the lattice where the threads seemed to shimmer unevenly. She tilted her head, her wand moving in small, precise circles as she examined the anomaly.

“Here,” she said, tilting her head to give Sebastian a better view. “Do you see how the light flickers slightly, like it’s out of sync with the rest of the ward?”

Sebastian squinted, leaning closer, but the golden threads looked as impenetrable as ever to him. “Honestly? No. It all looks the same to me.”

She huffed a laugh, shaking her head. “It’s subtle—really subtle. The imbalance is almost imperceptible, but it’s there. The magic here isn’t flowing as smoothly as it should. That’s the weak point.”

Sebastian straightened, his expression a mix of admiration and disbelief. “I’d never have spotted that in a million years. Good thing I’m not a cursebreaker.”

Evangeline rolled her eyes, though her lips twitched into a small smile. “You could do anything you want, Sebastian. You’d just need to practice—like I’ve been doing for months.”

He gave her a lopsided grin. “That’s sweet of you to say, Evie, but I think I’ll leave the ancient magical puzzles to you. I’ll stick with chasing down dark wizards.”

“Suit yourself,” she teased, her tone light despite the tension in the air. Turning her attention back to the lattice, she studied it for another moment before speaking again. “I think we need to apply force—immense force—right here at this spot. The ward’s designed to absorb energy across its entire structure, but if we focus everything on the weak point, it’ll collapse.”

Sebastian raised an eyebrow. “When you say ‘immense force,’ are we talking spellwork or…?”

Evangeline gave him a pointed look. “We’re not battering it with a stick, if that’s what you’re asking.”

He chuckled softly, leaning back against his wand. “Just checking.”

She hummed, her tone shifting to something more serious. "I think you need to cast something like Bombarda or Expulso at it."

"...Me?"

Evangeline nodded, tilting her head toward the weak point in the ward. “Yes, you. You’ve always been better at explosive charms and curses than I am; they pack twice the punch mine do.”

He opened his mouth to respond, but Evangeline held up a hand, a sly smirk tugging at her lips. “Before you even think about arguing, let me make one thing clear—I’d still wipe the floor with you in a duel.”

Sebastian’s jaw dropped slightly, and he looked at her, mock-offended. “Evie—”

“But,” she continued, her tone matter-of-fact, “I know your strengths, and raw destructive power is one of them.”

Sebastian tilted his head, considering her words, and his grin softened into something warmer. “You know, I think that’s the nicest backhanded compliment I’ve ever received.”

Evangeline rolled her eyes, though her smile lingered. “Call it what you want, but we only have one shot to get this right. If you don’t focus everything on that weak point, the ward will absorb it, and we’ll have announced our arrival to everyone on the estate."

Sebastian’s gaze flicked to the lattice, his playful demeanor giving way to a more serious expression. He nodded, rolling his shoulders as he adjusted his grip on his wand. “Alright. Expulso it is. But you'll need to show me exactly where it needs to land, Evie. I can't see the weak spot myself."

Evangeline nodded, stepping forward and raising her wand. She murmured a quick incantation, and a faint, glowing circle appeared around the weak point. The golden threads shimmered faintly as the marker charm took hold, clearly outlining the precise spot.

“There,” she said, stepping back and lowering her wand. “You can’t miss it now. Just focus everything you’ve got right in the center of that circle.”

Sebastian studied the glowing marker, his brow furrowing in concentration. “Got it,” he said, adjusting his stance as he raised his wand. He glanced over at her. “Alright. Ready?”

“Ready,” she replied, her voice steady.

Sebastian nodded, his dark eyes narrowing on the glowing marker.

“Expulso!”

The spell erupted from his wand, a brilliant streak of blue light tearing through the air and colliding with the ward. The impact was instantaneous—light flared, brighter than the sun, as the lattice trembled and groaned under the force. For a moment, it seemed to hold, the lattice rippling and distorting like a stretched web.

Then, with a deafening crack, the barrier shattered. The golden threads disintegrated in a cascade of sparks, the magical energy dissipating into the air. The ground beneath their feet trembled slightly, and a gust of warm air rushed past them, ruffling their hair.

Evangeline stepped forward cautiously, her heart pounding in her chest as she surveyed the path ahead. The ward was gone, leaving nothing but faint wisps of residual magic hanging in the air.

Sebastian let out a slow breath, lowering his wand. He turned to her, his smirk returning in full force. “And that, dear Evangeline, is how it’s done.”

She huffed a laugh, shaking her head as the tension eased from her shoulders. “Not bad. Not bad at all.”

“Not bad?” he repeated, feigning offense. “I just dismantled an ancient ward with a single spell, and all I get is ‘not bad’?”

Evangeline shrugged, though the warmth in her smile betrayed her amusement. “Alright, fine. You did great. Now let’s see what other surprises the Muldoons have waiting for us.”

Sebastian fell into step beside Evangeline as they continued forward.

“Alright, but I think it’s only fair to add another reward to my tally after that,” Sebastian pressed, his tone light and teasing,

Evangeline glanced at him, one eyebrow raised. “Oh, do you now?”

“Absolutely,” he replied, his grin wide. “At this rate, you’ll owe me your first born child, Evie.”

Evangeline’s steps faltered at Sebastian’s quip, her breath hitching in her chest. It was a joke—of course it was—but it wasn’t really. Not when he’d been making comments like that more and more lately. In fact, Sebastian spoke about their future together as if it were an inevitability, a thought that made Evangeline weak in the knees.

Her mind betrayed her then, conjuring an image she hadn’t let herself truly consider before: a child with Sebastian’s mischievous grin, his unruly dark hair, and her hazel eyes. The thought hit her like a bolt of lightning, equal parts warmth and panic flooding her chest.

Her cheeks flushed hot, and she quickly forced herself to shake it off. Not the time, Evie. Focus.

Sebastian must have noticed her hesitation because he slowed, glancing at her with a curious tilt of his head. “What’s that look for? Did I say something scandalous?”

Evangeline cleared her throat, her voice coming out sharper than she intended. “You’re always saying something scandalous. Now, come on—we’ve got an estate to infiltrate, remember?”

Sebastian chuckled, falling back into step beside her. “Fine, fine. But I’m adding that reaction to my tally, too.”

Evangeline didn’t respond, her mind still racing. She gripped her wand tighter, forcing herself to focus on the darkened path ahead. There was no room for distractions now. They were stepping into the unknown, and the stakes were too high to let her thoughts wander. For now, she had to face the Muldoons—and whatever else lay ahead—with her head held high and her heart steady.

As they walked, the trees around them finally began to thin, their gnarled branches giving way to an open expanse of land. In the distance, a dark silhouette rose against the starry sky.

The Muldoon Manor.

The structure loomed, its tall, angular silhouette both imposing and elegant. The stone walls were dark, ivy creeping up the sides and clinging to the windows like skeletal fingers. A wrought-iron gate marked the entrance to the grounds, flanked by stone pillars etched with runes that glowed faintly in the darkness.

For the first time that night, a flicker of fear, real fear, wound its way into Evangeline’s chest.

Her steps slowed, uncertainty creeping into her mind. Anne’s voice echoed in her ears, the warnings she’d given before they left Feldcroft—No reckless heroics, Evie. Just come back. Both of you. Ominis’s sharp tone followed, laden with frustration and concern: If you don’t come back in one piece—

She clenched her jaw, trying to push the voices away. But the truth was undeniable: she had no idea what waited beyond that gate. The Muldoons were infamous for their secrecy, their power, their ruthlessness. Every step closer felt like venturing further into a trap she wasn’t sure she could escape.

Am I in over my head? The thought came unbidden, a small crack in her resolve. Her grip on her wand tightened. She couldn’t afford hesitation, not now. She’d come this far, and she had to see this through. The threats, the letters—she needed to put an end to it.

Evangeline’s gaze shifted to Sebastian as they neared the wrought-iron gates.

The playful glint in his eyes from earlier was gone, replaced with a sharp, lethal focus that made her chest tighten—and not entirely from fear. The Sebastian beside her now wasn’t the one who had just been teasing her about rewards and keeping tally; this was the Auror-in-training, every inch the professional. And damn if that wasn’t distracting.

Evangeline forced herself to focus, tamping down the unbidden rush of admiration that threatened to overtake her. This wasn’t the time to marvel at the way he moved with such confidence, the quiet authority in his voice, or the way he looked so effortlessly composed even under pressure. They had a mission to complete, and her attraction to him could wait.

In the past, they’d gotten into trouble together more times than Evangeline could count—reckless, impulsive, and daring. She’d taken down Ranrok and his rebellion, wielded ancient magic against impossible odds. But back then, they’d been kids. They’d acted on instinct, driven by desperation and adrenaline.

Now? Now, things were different. In the months since they’d left Hogwarts, Sebastian had been training, honing his skills, becoming someone who could handle situations like this with precision and expertise.

Her pride in him swelled, mingling with the faint ache of her own inadequacy. This wasn’t her world anymore—not like it was his. She’d trained for a different kind of challenge, studied curses and wards, ancient magic and artifacts. But tactical strategy? Conflict resolution? That was Sebastian’s domain.

And it wasn’t just impressive—it was infuriatingly attractive. She bit the inside of her cheek, forcing herself to breathe evenly. Focus. You can melt over him later.

She slowed to a stop just a few paces from the gate and reached out, her fingers brushing his arm. She cleared her throat. “Um. Sebastian?”

He turned to her, his gaze sharp but not unkind. “What is it?”

She met his gaze. “You’re the one with the training now. Tell me how we’re going to do this.”

For a moment, surprise flickered across his face, but it was quickly replaced by something softer. His features relaxed just enough to remind her that he was still Sebastian—her Sebastian—beneath the sharp edges of his Auror focus.

“They don’t know we’re here yet,” he said quietly, his tone calm but firm. “If they did, someone—or something—would’ve come for us already. Those wards weren’t just for show. They clearly don’t want visitors, which means we have to assume hostility until proven otherwise.”

Evangeline nodded, her grip tightening on her wand. “So what’s the plan?”

Sebastian’s eyes flicked back to the gate and then to the surrounding grounds, calculating. “We sneak our way to the front door,” he said decisively. “If we can get inside without alerting anyone, we’ll have the advantage. They won’t be expecting us, and that element of surprise might give us the edge we need.”

Evangeline glanced toward the manor, its dark silhouette looming like a sleeping giant. “And once we’re inside?”

Sebastian’s lips pressed into a thin line, his expression unreadable. “We take it one step at a time. Find whoever’s in charge—or whoever’s been sending those letters—and handle it.”

The simplicity of his words belied the weight of the task ahead, but Evangeline trusted him.

“Alright,” she said, her voice steady despite the nerves twisting in her chest. “Lead the way.”

Sebastian nodded once, his confidence reassuring. He moved to the gate, his movements quiet and deliberate, and gestured for her to follow. With a quick spell, he unlocked the wrought-iron gates, the faint click almost imperceptible in the still night.

They slipped onto the estate grounds, the cool grass damp beneath their feet. The air felt heavier here, charged with the residual magic of the wards they’d dismantled. Evangeline stayed close to Sebastian, her wand at the ready, her senses heightened as they moved through the shadows.

Sebastian came to a stop near the base of the manor’s stone steps, his hand raised to signal her to pause.

“The door might be warded too,” he said. “Let me check it first. If it’s clear, we’ll go in.”

Evangeline nodded, watching as he approached the heavy wooden door with practiced precision. His wand moved in slow, deliberate arcs, his focus unshakable. She felt a swell of pride as she watched him work, the boy she’d grown up with transformed into someone so capable, so sure of himself.

After a few tense moments, Sebastian straightened, stepping back from the door. “It’s clear,” he said softly. “No traps, no alarms. Let’s move.”

The door creaked faintly as Sebastian pushed it open, revealing the interior of the Muldoon manor. Evangeline stepped inside behind Sebastian, her wand gripped tightly in her hand, her heart pounding in her chest. But as her eyes adjusted to the light, what she saw stopped her in her tracks.

The entryway was breathtaking. High vaulted ceilings loomed above them, adorned with intricate carvings of stars and constellations that shimmered faintly in the low light of enchanted chandeliers. The walls were lined with rich mahogany paneling, accented by tapestries depicting scenes of lush Irish landscapes and ancient magical rituals. Plush rugs covered the polished stone floors, and the faint scent of cedar and firewood hung in the air.

It was opulent, yes, but not in the cold, uninviting way she had expected. There was a warmth to it—a sense of history and care, as though the house was not merely a monument to the Muldoons’ wealth and power, but a home.

Evangeline blinked, momentarily disarmed. This wasn’t what she’d imagined at all.

The faint sound of conversation drifted toward them, soft and indistinct, but unmistakably human. Evangeline stiffened, her senses sharpening as she exchanged a glance with Sebastian.

“That way,” he mouthed, nodding toward an arched doorway on their left.

Evangeline nodded as they moved silently across the entryway. The closer they got, the clearer the voices became—a low hum of casual conversation, punctuated by the occasional laugh.

She frowned, her mind racing. This wasn’t the tense, guarded atmosphere she’d expected. Whoever was in the sitting room wasn’t alarmed. They weren’t preparing for an intrusion or bracing for conflict. They were… relaxed. At ease.

Sebastian stopped just short of the doorway, his back pressed against the wall as he angled his head slightly to listen. Evangeline followed suit, her heart thundering in her chest as she strained to make out the words.

“…absolutely not going to happen,” a woman’s voice said, firm but laced with humor. “Do you have any idea how much trouble we’d be in?”

A man chuckled in response, his tone light. “You’re too cautious. Nobody would ever find out you stole a single chocolate.”

Evangeline glanced at Sebastian, her confusion mirrored in his expression. These weren’t the voices of people plotting sinister deeds or issuing threats. They sounded… normal.

Sebastian tilted his head toward the doorway, signaling for her to follow his lead. Together, they edged closer, the soft glow of firelight spilling into the hallway as they approached.

When they reached the threshold, Sebastian paused, his wand at the ready. He glanced at Evangeline, his expression unreadable but his eyes sharp. She nodded, taking a steadying breath.

And then, in one fluid motion, Sebastian stepped into the doorway, his presence commanding as he leveled his wand at the room’s occupants. “Nobody move!” he barked, his voice cutting through the low murmur of conversation like a knife.

Evangeline followed, her wand raised, her gaze sweeping the room.

A man seated in an elaborate armchair near the fire slowly lowered the glass of amber liquid he’d been holding, his eyes narrowing as he took in the scene. Two other men, one perched on the arm of a sofa and the other standing by the mantel, looked equally startled, their expressions shifting from confusion to wariness. Two women, who Evangeline assumed to be their wives, were seated nearby, exchanging wide-eyed glances, one of them clutching at her pearl necklace as if it could protect her. A third woman, her hair streaked with gray but her features no less striking, rose slowly from her seat, her gaze darting between Sebastian and Evangeline.

The two house-elves in the corner, both clad in pristine white linens embroidered with the Muldoon crest, let out startled squeaks, one dropping the tray of teacups it was holding. The delicate porcelain shattered against the polished floor, the sound unnervingly loud in the heavy silence that followed.

Evangeline’s wand remained steady, though her heart was pounding in her chest. Her gaze swept over the room, cataloging every face, every movement—and then she froze. Her breath caught as her eyes locked onto the man in the chair.

It was his jawline that struck her first, so similar to the one she saw in her own reflection. His cheekbones, the slope of his nose—they were eerily familiar. Her gaze flicked to the men near the hearth, and the similarities were undeniable. The same hazel undertones in their eyes. The dark hair. Even the subtle curve of their brows mirrored her own.

The realization hit her like a physical blow. They look like me.

“Who in Merlin’s name—” the man in the chair began, his voice deep and commanding, but he trailed off abruptly as his sharp gaze landed on Evangeline.

His expression shifted, the wariness melting into something else entirely: recognition. One of the men standing by the hearth—the one with a slight scar cutting through his left eyebrow—took a step forward, his eyes wide as he stared at her.

“You’re….” he murmured, almost to himself. “You’re Rowena’s daughter.”

The room seemed to hold its breath. The older woman gasped softly, one hand flying to her mouth. The others exchanged looks of shock and confusion, their collective attention snapping back to Evangeline.

The man in the chair rose slowly, his movements deliberate as he set his glass aside. He studied her intently, gaze raking over her features as though searching for confirmation of what he already knew.

“You look just like her,” he said finally, his voice quieter now, filled with something between wonder and regret. “There’s no mistaking it."

Sebastian, still holding his wand at the ready, shot Evangeline a sidelong glance. “Evie?”

She didn’t answer, too stunned to speak as her mind reeled. The faces around her blurred together, each one a strange reflection of her own features, a living puzzle piece that she hadn’t realized was missing.

The heavy silence lingered for a moment, the room tense with disbelief and recognition. Finally, the man from the chair straightened fully, his presence commanding as his gaze remained locked on Evangeline.

“My name is Percival Muldoon,” he said carefully, as though every word carried immense weight. “Your mother, Rowena, was my older sister. I’m your uncle.”

The words hit her like a tidal wave. Uncle. Family.

The man by the hearth—with the slight scar cutting through his brow—stepped forward cautiously, his expression a mixture of curiosity and sympathy. “Cassian Muldoon,” he offered, inclining his head slightly. “I’m the eldest. Rowena was my baby sister.”

“And I’m Benedict,second oldest,” the third man interjected, his tone warm but tentative. He gestured to one of the younger women. “This is Astrid, my wife.”

The oldest woman stood then, her Scandinavian accent unmistakable as she spoke. “I am Freya, Cassian's wife,” she said softly, her striking features kind but guarded. She gestured to the other woman, who had remained seated. “This is Anja, Percival's wife.”

Evangeline’s gaze darted between the faces, the names. The voices. Each one landed like a piece of a puzzle she hadn’t realized she was holding. She swallowed hard, her voice finally finding its way out.

"I—I'm Evangeline."

Cassian who stepped forward slightly. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you. To what do we owe the pleasure, Evangeline?”

She hesitated for a moment, her gaze flicking toward Sebastian. He reached out and gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. Drawing a deep breath, Evangeline stepped closer to him, her wand still held firmly aloft.

“I’m here,” she started, her voice firm despite the tension in her chest, “to discuss your meddling in my life—and to put an end to it.”

The room erupted into murmurs, the family exchanging confused glances. Astrid looked taken aback, her brow furrowing. “Meddling?” she repeated, glancing at her husband. “What is she talking about, Benedict?”

Freya and Anja exchanged puzzled looks, while Benedict’s expression darkened slightly, his mouth pressing into a thin line. “Evangeline,” he began, his voice careful, “I assure you, we’ve done no such thing.”

Evangeline’s eyes narrowed, her grip on Sebastian’s hand tightening. “Don’t lie to me,” she said coldly. “I’ve been receiving threatening letters signed with the Muldoon name. Don’t tell me you’ve had nothing to do with it.”

Percival’s brows furrowed deeply, genuine confusion flickering across his face. “Threatening letters?” he echoed, his tone sharp with disbelief. “They're certainly not from us.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Cassian said firmly, his voice tinged with indignation. “Why would we send threats to our own niece? We’ve only just met you!”

Sebastian’s gaze swept over the family, his wand still loosely at his side. “It’s easy for you to say that,” he said evenly, though his voice held a sharp edge. “But you have to understand how this looks. A family of your power, your reputation—how can we be sure you’re telling the truth?”

The room tensed again, the Muldoons bristling slightly at Sebastian’s words, but it was Benedict who stepped forward, his hands raised in a gesture of peace. “Let’s not escalate this,” he said, his voice calm. “Evangeline,” he said, turning to her, “can you show us these letters?”

Evangeline’s jaw tightened, her instincts warring with the sincerity in their voices. After a beat, she nodded slowly. Releasing Sebastian’s hand, she reached into her bag and pulled out the envelope containing both letters, her fingers tightening around them as she extended them toward Percival.

The youngest brother accepted them carefully, his expression darkening as he glanced down at the parchment.

Evangeline’s eyes tracked his every movement, searching for any sign of deceit—a twitch of the jaw, a shift in his tone. But his expression remained drawn and serious as he began to leaf through the envelope.

“Let’s see what we’re dealing with,” Percival muttered, stepping closer to the hearth where the light was better. Cassian and Benedict joined him, their expressions grim as they peered over his shoulder.

As Percival reached to pull the first letter from the envelope with his bare hand, something in Evangeline’s chest tightened. The memory of the ink flashed through her mind, sharp and visceral.

“Stop!” she snapped, her voice cutting through the quiet room.

Percival froze, his brow furrowing as he glanced at her. “What?”

“Don’t touch it with your hands,” she said quickly, stepping closer. “The ink is toxic... you should use your wand.”

“Poisoned?” Percival echoed, his voice sharp with disbelief. He turned the envelope slightly, examining it with renewed caution. “You’re sure?”

“Yes, I found out the hard way." She paused, swallowing hard. "Though... I suppose if you’d sent those letters, you’d know that already.”

Sebastian nodded, his hand finding hers again. “She’s not exaggerating,” he added, his voice hard. “The ink is potent."

Percival’s gaze flicked between them, his jaw tightening. He drew his wand and gently levitated the letter out of the envelope, suspending it in the air as he inspected it.

“This…” Percival said slowly, his voice edged with anger as he studied the words. “This isn’t from us. Not in tone, not in intent. And if someone went to the trouble of using poisoned ink—” He broke off, his gaze hardening as he turned to Cassian and Benedict. “We have an enemy.”

Cassian’s mouth pressed into a thin line as he examined the letter over Percival’s shoulder. “It doesn’t make sense,” he muttered. “Who would go to such lengths to threaten our niece in our name? And why?”

Sebastian and Evangeline exchanged a glance, the unspoken question hanging heavily between them: Do we believe them?

The lack of knowledge about the toxic ink certainly seemed genuine, a strong point in their favor. But as Evangeline’s mind churned with doubt, she caught the subtle tightening of Sebastian’s jaw. He wasn’t convinced—not yet.

Sebastian took a small step forward, his wand still loosely at his side. “If these letters weren’t sent by you, prove it,” he said sharply. “I want to see your stationery—the paper, the ink, the seals you use. Bring everything.”

Benedict frowned at the demand, his gaze flicking to Percival, who gave a small nod of assent. Benedict turned to one of the house-elves hovering nervously near the corner of the room.

“Lysie,” he said firmly, gesturing toward the door. “Fetch the stationery from the office. All of it—every parchment, quill, and bottle of ink. And be quick.”

The house-elf bobbed her head in a rapid bow, her voice squeaking out, “Yes, Master Benedict,” before she disappeared with a faint pop.

The room fell into a tense silence as they waited. Evangeline could feel the weight of every pair of eyes on her, but it was Sebastian’s steady presence at her side that kept her grounded. He gave her hand another reassuring squeeze.

“I understand your skepticism,” Percival said after a moment, his tone calmer now, though it carried an edge of frustration. “But you must realize how absurd this accusation seems from our perspective. Why would we send threats to our own niece? It’s completely illogical.”

"Illogical?" Evangeline scoffed, her voice sharp as she stepped forward, the tension in her chest building. "Surely you can understand my perspective?"

The Muldoons exchanged uneasy glances, but none of them interrupted as she continued.

"I grew up in a Muggle orphanage," she said, her tone steady but laced with frustration. "No one ever told me where I came from, who I was. Then, at fifteen, my magic shows up—late, unexpected, and with ancient abilities no less. I defeat Ranrok, and only then does my notorious pure-blood family suddenly appear in the picture. Why? Because the Ministry just so happened to find out I was connected to you? Because I was proving to be more than just an orphan with a late magical start?"

Freya opened her mouth, but Evangeline cut her off. “The Ministry swears me to secrecy about my connection to the Muldoon name, but somehow, somehow, during the social season, it comes out. I don't get any direct communication from my so-called family, and yet I’m suddenly labeled the most eligible debutante of the year, paraded around by the press like some rare, exotic bird, with article after article speculating about what you expect of me. What alliances I’m supposed to forge.”

Her voice cracked slightly, but she pressed on, her frustration spilling over. "So yes, it seems reasonable to me that this is all a game for your reputation. You’re a powerful pure-blood family—this is what you do. Is it not?"

The room fell silent for a moment, her words hanging heavy in the air.

Percival exhaled slowly, his expression grave as he stepped forward. “Evangeline,” he began, his voice quieter now, “I... see how it looks to you, and I won’t deny that we could’ve handled this better. But I need you to understand—we didn’t reveal your name to anyone. We wanted it to stay secret, to protect you. That was the whole point.”

Cassian nodded, his face serious as he added, “We knew about you, yes, but we didn’t reach out because we wanted the choice to be yours. Whether you wanted to meet us, whether you wanted anything to do with the Muldoons—that was always your decision.”

“But you must understand,” Benedict interjected, his voice gentler now, “our world and yours… they’ve been so far apart. Yes, we’ve lived here, in Ireland, but we never interfered in British society—not intentionally. We had no idea about this... social season nonsense.”

“What do you mean, ‘no idea’?” Sebastian asked sharply, his brow furrowing.

Freya stepped forward, her Scandinavian accent lilting as she spoke. “The Muldoons have always been part of Oslo’s social season. That’s where the family historically determines alliances, where eligible bachelors and debutantes meet. It’s been that way for centuries.”

Evangeline’s mouth parted slightly, her train of thought derailed by their explanation. The Muldoons truly didn’t seem connected to British wizarding society at all. It made sense the more she thought about it. They sent their children to Durmstrang, not Hogwarts—a choice that already set them apart from most other prominent families in the Isles. She couldn’t recall any of the Sacred Twenty-Four ever boasting of forming alliances with the Muldoons. In fact, no alliances at all came to mind. The Muldoons clearly kept themselves separate.

The more she turned their words over in her mind, the more their explanation began to hold water. Even Ominis had said as much when he’d spoken of how the Muldoons had no interest in pure-blood politics.

Now that she was standing in their home, speaking to them directly, it was as if puzzle pieces she hadn’t even realized were scattered began clicking into place. It wasn’t the Muldoons pulling the strings of her social season. It had never been. The machinations that had thrust her into the spotlight, branding her the “most eligible debutante” and slandering Sebastian, weren’t born of Muldoon design. They were someone else’s scheme entirely.

Percival’s expression softened. “If someone used our name to manipulate you, Evangeline, then that is a betrayal not just to you, but to us. And I promise you, we will find out who’s behind it.”

Evangeline glanced at Sebastian, whose gaze was fixed on the Muldoons with unwavering scrutiny. “What do you think?” she murmured.

Sebastian’s jaw tightened slightly, his lips parting as if he were about to respond, when the sound of a soft pop interrupted him. The house-elf reappeared, arms laden with an assortment of parchment, ink bottles, and wax seals stacked precariously high. Despite the load, her movements were swift and practiced as she approached Benedict.

“Master Benedict,” the house-elf squeaked, bowing low as she placed the items on the nearby table. “Everything from the office, sir, just as you asked.”

“Thank you, Lysie,” Benedict said with a small nod. The house-elf bowed again before stepping back, her wide eyes flicking nervously between the humans.

Sebastian exchanged a quick glance with Evangeline before stepping forward. He eyed the items on the table, his sharp gaze flicking between the parchment and ink bottles. “Alright,” he said, his tone brisk. “Let’s see if anything here matches.”

Evangeline joined him, her wand still in hand as she leaned over the assortment of items. Her heart was pounding, a mixture of anticipation and nerves as she began to examine the materials.

The parchment was thick and high-quality, its texture smooth under her fingertips. She turned over one sheet, noting the faint watermark of the Muldoon family crest embedded in the fibers. The ink bottles were ornate, labeled in what appeared to be Norwegian, and the wax seals bore intricate designs that matched the crest as well.

Sebastian picked up a sheet of parchment, holding it up to the light as he scrutinized it. “This... doesn’t match the letters,” he muttered, his tone thoughtful. “The texture is different. The grain is finer on the letters you received.”

Evangeline nodded, picking up one of the ink bottles and uncorking it carefully. She dipped her wand tip into the ink, swirling it gently before pulling it back. The liquid shimmered faintly, its color rich and vibrant. “The ink doesn’t match either,” she said.

Cassian, who had unfolded the second letter from the set Evangeline had brought, skimmed the text, his expression darkening.

“This letter,” he said slowly, his voice heavy with thought. “It mentions a ‘Gaunt boy and his companion.’” He looked up, his gaze settling on Evangeline. “The name Gaunt sounds vaguely familiar, but I can’t place it. Who is this boy they speak of?”

Sebastian cleared his throat, his tone cold when he spoke. “Ominis Gaunt. He’s a very close friend of ours and an honorable man. His family, however, is a different story.”

Cassian’s brow arched. “Go on.”

Evangeline sighed. “Ominis comes from the Gaunt family—an old pure-blood line infamous for their obsession with blood purity and their connection to Salazar Slytherin. His father, Lord Noctivus Gaunt, is... well, he’s as vile as they come.”

“And what does this Noctivus Gaunt have to do with you?” Cassian asked, his tone edged with curiosity but laced with caution.

Evangeline hesitated before answering, her voice steady but tinged with frustration. “Ominis has been courting Anne Sallow—Sebastian’s sister. Noctivus disapproves of the match, of course, because Anne isn’t from a "sacred" pure-blood family.”

Cassian’s lips pressed into a thin line, his expression unreadable as he absorbed the information.

Sebastian crossed his arms, his voice sharper now. “Noctivus didn’t just disapprove. He actively interfered. Used every dirty trick in the book to try to end the courtship.”

Evangeline nodded, her gaze fixed on the letter in Cassian’s hands. “It reached a breaking point,” she admitted. “And... I used the Muldoon name to force Noctivus’s hand.”

That caught the attention of everyone in the room. Percival’s eyes narrowed slightly, and Benedict tilted his head, his expression intrigued. Freya and Anja exchanged quick glances but said nothing.

“You used our name?” Percival asked, his voice calm but carrying an edge of incredulity.

Evangeline met his gaze directly, her tone firm. “I didn’t have a choice. I... I confronted Noctivus as if I had your full backing. I told him the Muldoons would view his interference as a blemish on the Gaunt family’s honor, and that there would be consequences if he didn’t leave Anne and Ominis alone.”

Cassian leaned back slightly, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “And did it work?”

“It did,” Evangeline replied, though her voice was quieter now. “Noctivus backed down. He stopped meddling, and Ominis was free to continue his courtship with Anne. But clearly... not anymore.”

Percival studied her for a long moment, his gaze calculating. Finally, he sighed and shook his head. “You took a gamble, and a bold one at that. I can’t say I approve of you using our name without permission, but... your intentions were admirable.”

Sebastian’s frown deepened. “All social season, the Prophet has been driving q specific... narrative. Articles about Evangeline being the ‘most eligible debutante,’ about the Muldoon family’s lofty expectations for her. They’ve painted me as… unsuitable.” His voice grew tight, the frustration clear in every syllable. “And now, knowing it wasn’t you—knowing the real Muldoons had nothing to do with it—then who started it?”

Benedict hummed in agreement, though his expression remained serious. “We need to consider who would benefit from this, benefit from trying to make it look as though we’ve betrayed you.”

"It's someone who doesn't want us to be together," Evangeline reasoned quietly, "Or equally, someone who doesn't want Anne and Ominis together."

Cassian’s nodded. “Indeed. And clearly we’ve been made scapegoats,” he said grimly. “If someone leaked your connection to us and then manufactured our supposed disapproval, they’ve crafted a perfect storm.”

Percival rubbed his chin, his gaze sharp as it flicked between Evangeline and Sebastian. “But Benedict is right... who would gain from this? What’s their endgame?”

“Control,” Freya interjected. “If someone manipulated Evangeline's name into British high society, they’re using her to push their own agenda... whatever it is.”

“And if you refused to play along?” Anja added quietly, her piercing gaze landing on Evangeline. “Then they isolate you and force you into submission.”

Sebastian’s hands curled into fists, his jaw clenching. “That explains the letters.”

Evangeline exhaled slowly, her gaze dropping to the parchment on the table. “But how did they know I was a Muldoon in the first place?” she murmured. “The Ministry made me swear to keep it a secret.”

Percival straightened, his expression darkening. "And all these threats you've received... they've never come directly from a person?"

Evangeline opened her mouth to confirm, but a memory flickered through her mind like a flash of lightning—the so-called "Muldoon representative" who had cornered her.

“There was… one person. At the charity auction. They claimed to be a representative of the Muldoon family.”

The room went still, all eyes snapping to her.

“They didn’t threaten me outright,"" Evangeline continued. "They just... approached me. Said I wasn’t meeting the family’s ‘expectations.’ That I was tarnishing the Muldoon name by associating with certain people.” Her gaze flicked to Sebastian, her heart sinking as his expression hardened. “And when I asked for their name, they refused to give one.”

Percival’s face darkened, his lips pressing into a thin line. “No one here sent anyone to a charity auction. I can promise you that.”

Cassian leaned back slightly, his expression unreadable. “They refused to give a name,” he said slowly. “But did they give you anything else? A hint, a detail—anything we can use to track them down?”

Evangeline shook her head, her frustration palpable. “No, nothing. They were careful—calculated. I can’t think of anything specific that would help identify them.”

The tension in the room was thick, the Muldoons exchanging uneasy glances as they tried to make sense of the situation. Then Freya cleared her throat, her brow furrowed in thought.

“What about the poison?” she asked, her voice calm but cutting through the haze of uncertainty. “If the ink is toxic, it might be traceable. The ingredients, the method—it could lead us to the source.”

Sebastian’s eyes lit up with sudden realization, and he turned to Evangeline. “She's right. Poison like that doesn’t just come out of nowhere. Someone with access to it could be traced.”

Evangeline opened her mouth to agree, but the words caught in her throat as a chilling realization began to form. Her breath hitched, and her mind raced, connecting dots she hadn’t thought to examine before.

The ink. The poison. The manipulation. Someone invested in Ominis and Anne’s relationship. Someone who hated that she was a Muldoon. Someone who had poisoned her in the past.

Her blood ran cold.

“Noctivus,” she whispered, the name barely audible but heavy with dread.

Sebastian’s brow furrowed. “What?”

“It makes sense now,” she said, her voice gaining strength as the pieces clicked into place. “It’s Noctivus Gaunt. It has to be. He’s the only one who fits. He knows I’m a Muldoon. He knows about Anne and Ominis. And he’s already poisoned me before."

Sebastian nodded slowly, his expression darkening. “That's why he was forcing the ultimatum. If he can’t get what he wants—Anne and Ominis breaking up—then he’ll make sure you don’t get what you want, either..."

"Exactly," Evangeline nodded. "Us."

Percival’s expression hardened, his sharp features etched with a grim understanding. “And if you had secured what he considered an 'advantageous match,' Evangeline,” he said, his voice cool but edged with steel, “then his son would be further protected by association with you. That would cement Ominis’s position and safeguard the Gaunt family’s dwindling influence.”

Cassian let out a low whistle, leaning back in his chair with an incredulous expression. “He’s playing a long game, isn’t he? Trying to manipulate every possible outcome to his favor. And using our name to do it.”

The realization settled heavily over the room, an almost palpable weight hanging in the air as the truth began to crystallize. Noctivus Gaunt—his schemes, his poison, his obsessive desire for control—it all fit too perfectly. Silence followed as everyone processed the implications, the crackling of the hearth the only sound cutting through the tension.

Evangeline’s mind raced, questions piling on top of one another with dizzying speed. This revelation answered so much, yet it left so much unresolved. Noctivus’s motives were clear now, but how were they supposed to face him? How could they force his hand to stop? The idea of confronting Noctivus again made her stomach churn.

And yet her thoughts spiraled further. The Muldoons had explained their detachment from British society and its pureblood politics, but they still participated in the Oslo social season. That meant matchmaking and alliances still mattered to them, didn’t it? Would they approve of Sebastian if their traditions aligned with those of other pureblood families? And even if they didn’t care about blood purity to the same extent, why were they being so kind to her—a half-blood—thus far?

The questions twisted her thoughts into a tangled knot, leaving her too distracted to notice the faint sound of approaching footsteps.

The door to the sitting room creaked open, and a young woman stepped inside. She was strikingly beautiful, with long, sleek dark hair that shimmered in the firelight and hazel eyes that mirrored Evangeline’s own. Her gown was an elegant emerald green, its delicate embroidery catching the light as she moved.

She stopped short, her gaze sweeping over the room with a mix of confusion and curiosity. “What on earth is going on in here?”

Pervical straightened, his expression softening as he gestured toward the newcomer. “Annalise,” he said warmly, “come in.”

Annalise. Of course. This had to be Evangeline's cousin—Percival Muldoon’s only daughter. The realization hit her like a lightning bolt, the pieces clicking into place.

Annalise’s gaze landed on Evangeline, her head tilting slightly as a smile flickered across her lips. “Oh, so you must be her,” she said, her voice carrying an almost playful lilt. “The long-lost cousin everyone’s been whispering about for months.”

Evangeline blinked, momentarily caught off guard. “I... suppose I am."

Annalise stepped further into the room, her hands clasped loosely in front of her. “You look just like Aunt Rowena,” she said matter-of-factly, though her gaze lingered on Evangeline with an intensity that felt almost probing. “Well, except for the height,” she added with a small, teasing smile. "Rowena was quite tall."

Evangeline forced a small smile of her own, her tone cautious but not unfriendly. “Yes well... it's nice to meet you... cousin."

Annalise’s smile widened slightly at Evangeline’s words, though there was a flicker of something unreadable in her hazel eyes. “Cousin,” she echoed, almost tasting the word. “I suppose that’s what we are. It’s strange, isn’t it? Meeting family you didn’t even know existed.”

Percival cleared his throat, his tone gentle but firm. “Annalise, we were in the middle of a discussion—”

“Oh, I can see that,” Annalise interrupted lightly, her gaze sweeping over the table laden with parchment and ink bottles before settling on Sebastian. Her eyes narrowed just slightly, her curiosity piqued. “And... you are?"

Sebastian met Annalise’s gaze evenly, his shoulders straightening. “Sebastian Sallow,” he said, his voice steady but with an edge of wariness.

Annalise raised an eyebrow, her expression intrigued. “Ah, Sebastian,” she repeated, her tone lilting with curiosity. “I've heard of you... Something about forbidden romance and dramatic headlines.” Her smile turned slightly mischievous, her gaze flicking back to Evangeline. “You do know how to make an entrance, don’t you?”

“Annalise,” Anja interrupted gently but firmly, stepping forward to place a hand on her daughter’s shoulder. “This is a serious matter, not one for idle gossip.”

“It’s not gossip if it’s about our family,” Annalise countered smoothly, slipping out from under her mother’s hand with practiced ease. “And isn’t this a family matter? It’s not every day your long-lost cousin appears out of nowhere.”

“This discussion doesn’t concern you,” Percival said, his voice sharpening slightly. “Let us handle it.”

Annalise crossed her arms, her expression obstinate as she leaned against the edge of a chair. “It concerns me if it concerns the Muldoon name,” she retorted. “Isn’t that what you’re always saying? That family comes first?”

Evangeline couldn’t help the flicker of recognition that tugged at her chest. Seeing her own stubbornness reflected so clearly in Annalise was disarming. It was like looking into a mirror of her younger self, bold and brash, unwilling to back down. Her lips twitched into a faint, involuntary smile.

Sebastian caught her reaction out of the corner of his eye and smirked faintly himself. “...Must run in the family,” he muttered just loud enough for Evangeline to hear.

Evangeline shot him a sideways look but couldn’t suppress her amusement. “Clearly,” she replied under her breath.

Annalise seemed to sense the quiet exchange, her hazel eyes narrowing slightly as she regarded them. “So, are you going to fill me in, or should I start guessing?” she asked, her tone breezy but underpinned with curiosity.

“Annalise,” Anja said again, her voice carrying a note of warning.

“It’s fine,” Evangeline interjected, surprising even herself. All eyes turned to her as she stepped forward, her gaze settling on her cousin. “If she’s anything like me—” her lips quirked slightly “—she’s not going to leave until she knows what’s going on.”

Annalise’s smile brightened, her arms uncrossing as she straightened. “Finally, someone who gets it.”

Sebastian let out a low chuckle, though he quickly masked it with a cough when Percival shot him a sharp look.

Annalise’s gaze darted between them, her curiosity intensifying. “So, what is it? A secret inheritance? A duel over family honor? Or did someone insult the Muldoon crest?” She winked.

Evangeline shook her head, “It’s a bit more complicated than that.”

“Well,” Annalise said, settling into a nearby chair with a dramatic flourish, “I’m all ears.”

Cassian sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose before addressing Annalise. “To put it simply, dear niece, someone has been using the Muldoon name to manipulate Evangeline’s life. They’ve sent threatening letters, poisoned her, and orchestrated a campaign in British high society all to isolate her and sabotage her relationships.”

Annalise’s playful demeanor vanished, replaced with a sharp seriousness. “Using our name? Poisoning her?” Her gaze snapped to Evangeline, her tone incredulous. “You’re serious?”

“Deadly serious,” Sebastian said flatly, his arms crossed as he leaned slightly toward Evangeline, ever the protector.

Annalise’s hazel eyes flicked to the table laden with evidence—the letters, the parchment, the ink bottles. Her lips pressed into a thin line, and she exhaled sharply. “So who's the suspect?"

Cassian raised an eyebrow. “The culprit is likely Lord Noctivus Gaunt. It appears his vendetta against Evangeline and her friends has spiraled into something quite insidious.”

The room fell into a heavy silence, the weight of the revelations settling over them once more. Evangeline’s mind churned, the questions that had been swirling earlier rushing back in full force. Her gaze drifted between Cassian, Percival, and Annalise, her chest tightening with a mix of frustration and curiosity.

Before she could stop herself, the words tumbled out. "Before we continue... I can't keep ignoring the graphorn in the room."

The room stilled, every eye turning to Evangeline as her words hung in the air, bold and unflinching. For a moment, no one spoke.

“What do you mean?” Percival asked carefully.

Evangeline squared her shoulders, the tension in her chest spilling over into her voice. “I mean we can’t keep skirting around the truth about my parents. About why I grew up in a Muggle orphanage.”

Cassian’s brows knitted together, his expression darkening. “Evangeline—”

“No,” she interrupted, her voice steady but edged with emotion. “I’ve gone my whole life with more questions than answers. And now I’m here, standing in the middle of this beautiful house, hearing all about how you wanted to protect me, to give me a choice. But that doesn’t quite align with why my mother was disowned. Or why my parents died in that fire.”

Percival’s jaw tightened, and he exhaled slowly, as though steadying himself. “It's not as simple as you think.”

Evangeline’s hazel eyes flared with frustration. “Then explain it to me. Because even if you're not behind all of this, all I see are people who abandoned me until it was convenient to acknowledge I existed.”

Annalise shifted uncomfortably but didn’t interject, her gaze darting between Evangeline and her father. There was a flicker of something in her expression—sympathy, maybe—but she held her tongue.

Percival’s jaw tightened, his gaze sharp but not unkind as it fixed on hers. “We didn’t abandon you,” he claimed, his tone quieter now, weighted with something deeper. “We didn’t even know you existed until after you defeated Ranrok.”

Evangeline scoffed. "And yet you didn't reach out to me. You knew for years and never sent word."

Cassian’s voice was calm but carried an undercurrent of frustration. “Yes, we knew about you, but we were trying to respect your independence. We couldn’t just appear out of nowhere and demand a place in your life. You’d have every right to resent us—and we anticipated you might.”

Evangeline’s gaze flickered between the brothers, her frustration warring with the weight of their explanation. “So you thought leaving me in the dark was better? That it was some sort of kindness?”

Percival’s jaw tightened, his features etched with regret. “We made mistakes,” he admitted, his voice heavy. “Mistakes that came from fear and uncertainty, not malice.”

Benedict interjected, his tone softening further. “We didn’t know how you’d feel about us. Especially knowing what our parents did.”

Cassian exchanged a brief glance with Percival and Benedict, an unspoken agreement passing between them before he continued. “Our parents were… relentless when it came to protecting the family’s reputation. When Rowena married your father... they erased her from the family."

“We never forgave our parents for it,” Benedict cut in. “Not for disowning her, not for what happened to Rowena and your father. It... created a rift that never healed.”

Evangeline swallowed hard, the lump in her throat making it difficult to speak. “And... you expect me to believe you’re different?”

Annalise cleared her throat, her voice unexpectedly soft but no less firm. “Maybe she needs to see the bedroom.”

The suggestion hung in the air, puzzling both Evangeline and Sebastian. Evangeline frowned, glancing between the Muldoons as an almost palpable tension passed between them.

Cassian and Percival exchanged a glance, something unspoken passing between them before Cassian gave a faint nod. “It might help,” he admitted quietly.

“What bedroom?” Evangeline asked, her tone sharper than she intended, the frustration from their earlier conversation still simmering beneath the surface.

Anja stepped forward, her movements slow and deliberate, as if she were approaching a frightened animal. Evangeline instinctively stiffened, her wand hand twitching slightly, but Anja raised her hands in a placating gesture. “It's alright, dear,” she said softly. “Just... come with me.”

Evangeline hesitated, her gaze flicking to Sebastian. His hand found hers, his fingers curling around hers in silent support. “We go together,” he said firmly, his voice brooking no argument.

Anja nodded, her expression unruffled by his protectiveness. “Of course.”

With Sebastian’s steady presence at her side, Evangeline followed Anja out of the sitting room. The rest of the family trailed behind them, their footsteps muffled by the thick carpets as they ascended the grand staircase to the third floor.

The hallways grew narrower and quieter the higher they climbed, the decor becoming less ostentatious and more personal. Family portraits lined the walls, each frame intricately carved and lovingly maintained. Evangeline caught glimpses of the faces—stern patriarchs, elegant matriarchs, and the occasional mischievous child immortalized in oil paint.

At the end of the hallway, Anja paused in front of a simple wooden door. She glanced back at the group, her expression unreadable, before pushing it open with a quiet creak.

Evangeline stepped inside cautiously, her heart pounding as her eyes adjusted to the dim light. The bedroom was modest compared to the rest of the manor, but there was an undeniable warmth to it. The walls were painted a soft shade of lavender, and the furniture, though simple, was clearly crafted with care. A well-worn rocking chair sat in one corner, draped with a faded quilt. On the dresser were framed photographs, their glass surfaces slightly smudged from years of handling.

Her breath hitched as she approached the dresser, her eyes locking onto one of the photographs. A young woman with dark hair and warm eyes stood arm in arm with a man—Evangeline recognized him to be her father—his casual suit contrasting with Rowena's elegant robes. Evangeline reached out, her fingers hovering over the frame as though afraid to touch it.

“That’s Rowena and Arthur,” Benedict said quietly from behind her. “Your parents.”

Evangeline’s throat tightened, her vision blurring slightly as she looked at the other photographs—Rowena as a child, Rowena in her Durmstrang uniform, Rowena laughing beside a younger Cassian and Percival. Each image painted a picture of a life that had been carefully preserved, even as it had been erased from the rest of the Muldoon legacy.

Cassian stepped into the room, leaning back against the wall. “When our parents first disowned Rowena... they wanted to remove all traces of her from the house. Her belongings, her photographs, everything.”

Benedict nodded, his gaze drifting to the rocking chair. “So we hid everything we could—her childhood belongings, her pictures, even her favorite books. When our parents passed, we restored the room exactly as it was.”

Evangeline turned to face them, her emotions a whirlwind of anger, grief, and something she couldn’t quite name. “You kept this… all this time?”

"Of course we did,” Percival said firmly. “She was our sister, we loved her. We still do."

Evangeline stood frozen, her emotions a maelstrom of grief, confusion, and disbelief as her gaze swept over the room.

Meanwhile, Annalise stepped forward hesitantly, her movements cautious yet deliberate. Sebastian stiffened at the approach, his hand tightening protectively around Evangeline’s. His sharp gaze darted to Annalise, silently warning her to keep her distance.

But something inside Evangeline wavered as she took in her cousin's features—the high cheekbones, the curve of her jaw, the way her frame mirrored Evangeline’s own. The resemblance was undeniable. She wasn’t just looking at a cousin; she was looking at proof of a connection she had spent her entire life missing.

Her grip on Sebastian’s hand slackened and Annalise closed the distance between them, her arms wrapping around Evangeline in a tentative but genuine hug. Evangeline stood stiffly for a moment, unsure how to react, but then something within her gave way. She closed her eyes, her arms slowly lifting to return the embrace. The contact felt strange, yet comforting—a connection she hadn’t realized she’d been yearning for.

“You’re really my cousin,” Evangeline murmured, her voice soft and almost disbelieving.

Annalise pulled back slightly, just enough to meet Evangeline’s gaze. “I am,” she said simply, a small, wry smile tugging at her lips. “And I know what you’ve probably heard about us. All the rumors, the dark magic, the blood rituals, our obsession with secrecy…”

Evangeline’s breath hitched slightly, her hazel eyes narrowing as the familiar tales of Muldoon mystique swirled in her mind. Annalise’s smile softened, her tone light but carrying a weight that stilled the room. “I’ll admit, there’s truth in some of it,” she said, her voice calm, though there was a flicker of unease in her eyes. “But it’s not what the rumors would have you believe. The Muldoons have alwasy been... keepers of knowledge. Some of it ancient. Some of it... strange. It’s what we’ve done for generations—preserving magical history.”

Evangeline swallowed hard, blinking back tears. “Then why all the secrecy?”

Annalise sighed, glancing briefly at her father as she let go of Evangeline.

“Knowledge,” Percival began, “is power. And not everyone can be trusted with power.”

Evangeline’s eyes narrowed slightly, but she remained silent, waiting for him to elaborate.

“The work our family does—the knowledge we’ve preserved—goes beyond anything you might find in Hogwarts or Durmstrang or the Ministry archives,” Percival continued. “We’ve spent generations safeguarding magical texts, ancient spells, rituals, and artifacts. Much of it is harmless when studied responsibly, but in the wrong hands...”

“And you think keeping it hidden is the best solution?” Evangeline asked, her voice laced with doubt. “If it’s so dangerous, wouldn’t it be better to destroy it?”

Percival’s expression hardened, his jaw tightening briefly before he spoke. “Destroying knowledge doesn’t eliminate the dangers—it only ensures that when it resurfaces, as it always does, it’s in the hands of someone who isn’t prepared for it.”

The words hung in the air, heavy with implication. Evangeline’s jaw tightened, her mind racing. It was almost too much to take in: the idea that the family she had imagined as shadowy manipulators might instead see themselves as protectors. It made sense, and yet it felt too convenient, too easy. And still, something in the way they spoke made it difficult to dismiss outright.

“So... you’re saying all the rumors—the blood rituals, the dark magic—it’s all just... misunderstanding? Legends taken out of context?” She asked, glancing between them.

Percival let out a small, dry laugh. “Not all of it,” he admitted, his expression faintly amused. “The truth is, some of those stories are rooted in fact. Our ancestors were... let’s just say dedicated to preserving their power and influence. But that’s not who we are anymore. Our family isn’t clinging to outdated traditions or purity-obsessed ideologies. We focus on what really matters—protecting what we’ve preserved and using it to understand magical history."

Evangeline’s arms tightened across her chest. “So what about me?” she asked quietly, her voice carrying the weight of long-buried insecurities. “I’m not a pure-blood."

“You’re Rowena’s daughter," Percival said firmly. "That’s all that matters. You’re family, Evangeline.”

Evangeline glanced back at Sebastian, who was standing silently behind her, his arms crossed. His expression was an unreadable mix of skepticism and protectiveness, his sharp eyes scanning each of the Muldoons like he was still weighing every word.

Turning back to the family, she took a deep breath, her voice carefully measured as she asked, “And what about who I court? Who I... choose to marry?”

The question hung heavily in the air, and for a moment, the Muldoons exchanged glances, as if silently deciding who would answer.

It was Cassian who finally broke the silence, his tone calm but firm. “Of course, we want the best for our children—our nieces, nephews, cousins. We want them to be with someone smart, driven, and successful. Someone who will treat them with respect and love.”

Evangeline’s jaw tightened, her brow furrowing as she braced herself for what came next.

“But whether that person is a pure-blood, half-blood, or Muggle-born?” Cassian continued, his voice softening. “We don’t care. Blood status isn’t what defines someone’s worth, at least not to us.”

Percival nodded in agreement, stepping forward slightly. “And if you and Mr. Sallow—” he gestured toward Sebastian with a faint smile “—are happy together, then we’re happy for you.”

Evangeline swallowed hard, her throat tight as their words settled over her. The tension in her shoulders eased slightly, though doubt still lingered in the back of her mind. She glanced back at Sebastian again, finding his gaze fixed on hers. His expression was softer now, the faintest flicker of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. I’m here, his eyes seemed to say. And whatever you decide, I’m with you.

Evangeline exhaled slowly and met Percival’s gaze, her voice quiet but steady. “If that’s true… if you really mean that, then I’d... like to try. To trust you.”

A ripple of relief passed through the room. Percival’s features softened, his stern expression giving way to a small, genuine smile. Cassian and Benedict exchanged a pleased glance while their wives all seemed to relax for the first time since the encounter began.

Annalise grinned, stepping forward and giving Evangeline’s arm a playful squeeze. “Good. Because you’re stuck with us now, cousin.”

Sebastian, who had been quietly observing, gave a faint smirk at Annalise’s remark but quickly sobered. “That’s all well and good,” he said, his tone measured, “but... we have bigger problems right now.”

All eyes turned to him, and he glanced at Evangeline for confirmation before continuing. “Noctivus. If we’re certain he’s the one behind all this, we need to stop him before he does any more damage.”

“Agreed,” Percival said firmly, his expression darkening.

“But how do you propose we corner someone like him?" Evangeline wondered. "He’s dangerous and calculating—I faced him once, and I'd rather not do it again... at least, not alone.”

Sebastian’s gaze hardened, his protective instincts immediately on edge. “You won’t be alone,” he said firmly. “We’ll handle him together.”

Cassian tilted his head, his expression contemplative. “Lord Gaunt may be calculating, but every strategist has a blind spot.”

“And his,” Benedict added slowly, “seems to be his son.”

The room fell into a thoughtful silence as the weight of her words settled. Percival rubbed his chin, his brow furrowed. “His son... Yes, that could work. If we involve him, we might have the leverage we need."

Sebastian hesitated, his jaw tightening as he glanced toward Evangeline. She was watching him, her hazel eyes filled with a quiet resolve that steadied something in him. Her trust in the Muldoons was tentative, but it was there, and that was enough for him—for now.

“Alright,” he agreed, his tone measured but firm. "I'll write to them. But they’re not going to go through what Evangeline and I did to get here. If we’re inviting them, clear instructions on how to access the manor without triggering every ward you’ve got.”

Cassian smiled at Sebastian’s insistence. “Of course. Annalise, fetch Mr. Sallow a quill and parchment. But speaking of the wards,” he said, his tone carrying both curiosity and a touch of amusement, “I’d like to hear how you managed to bypass them in the first place."

Evangeline hesitated, her hand brushing against Sebastian’s arm as she glanced toward him for support. His expression hardened slightly, his protectiveness rising again. "Why?"

Cassian raised his hands in a placating gesture. “Relax, Mr. Sallow. The wards are there to protect the manor, the library, and everything contained within. They’re designed to prevent any unwelcome guests from breaching our defenses without permission. The fact that you both managed to get through is… noteworthy.”

“They’re not harmful,” Benedict clarified, his voice steady and calm. “Just designed to prevent access. Prolonged exposure to the second ward obliviates trespassers and relocates them to a safe area outside the boundaries of the estate. It’s safe and effective, and those who encounter them never even realize they’ve been turned away.”

Evangeline exchanged a quick glance with Sebastian. “It... really wasn’t as complicated as you think,” she began carefully. “The first ward required me to be a Muldoon, so that was simple enough. Holding Sebastian’s hand gave him access as well.”

“The second ward,” Evangeline continued, “obviously it blocked traditional magic, but it didn’t account for ancient magic. It was easy enough for me to clear the fog once we figured that out."

Annalise’s brows rose in intrigue as she returned with a parchment and inkwell in hand, but she said nothing, letting the conversation flow.

"As for the third," Evangeline’s lips quirked in a faint smile. “I’ve seen similar enchantments before. Just needed to find a weak spot in the lattice.”

The room went still for a moment as the weight of her explanation settled. The three brothers exchanged a look, and Percival’s lips curved into a knowing smile.

“Cursebreaker?” Cassian asked finally.

Evangeline tilted her head, her lips twitching with faint amusement. “In training,” she admitted. “But yes.”

Benedict let out a low chuckle, his expression one of approval. “That certainly explains it."

Sebastian took the parchment and quill from Annalise, nodding his thanks before turning his attention back to the Muldoons. “Alright,” he said. “Since neither of them are Muldoon cursebreakers, what’s the easiest way for Anne and Ominis to get here?”

Cassian gave him a small, approving smile. “Simple enough,” he said. “They can use the Floo Network. We have a hearth connected to it.”

Sebastian raised an eyebrow. "You go through all that trouble with the wards but you're connected to the Floo?"

Cassian let out a low chuckle, the sound joined by Percival and Benedict.

“Yes, Mr. Sallow,” Cassian said, his voice tinged with amusement. “We’re connected to the Floo, we are civilized. But we change the hearth name regularly."

“And we don’t make a habit of giving the name out freely,” Benedict added, his expression turning serious. “It’s a well-guarded secret. One slip could compromise the entire estate.”

Sebastian considered this for a moment, his eyes narrowing slightly as he weighed their words. “Alright,” he said finally, his voice even. “What’s the name now?”

Percival glanced at Cassian, who gave a brief nod. “For the time being, it’s ‘Wisteria Hall,’” Percival said.

Sebastian nodded, jotting down the name on the parchment. “Good. I’ll make sure Ominis and Anne know exactly what to do. Anything else they need to be aware of?”

Cassian shook his head. “The Floo will bring them directly to the main receiving hall. We’ll be here to greet them and guide them the rest of the way.”

Satisfied, Sebastian finished writing the letter and folded it neatly. “I’ll send this off now,” he said, his tone brisk as he stepped toward the nearest window.

Evangeline watched Sebastian cross the room, his movements purposeful as he folded the letter. The flickering firelight caught his silhouette, highlighting the tension in his posture as he prepared to send the message that could change everything. A quiet sense of gratitude bloomed in her chest, swelling with every passing moment.

This entire encounter had gone so differently than she had expected.

She had entered the Muldoon manor braced for conflict, her mind filled with visions of cold, calculating relatives who would judge her unworthy of their name. She had imagined herself walking into a lion’s den—facing accusations, condescension, or, worse, hostility. Instead, she had found warmth. Acceptance. A family that wasn’t perfect but was trying to be better.

They had kept her mother’s memory alive, protecting her belongings, her photographs, her stories. They had stood against their own parents’ cruelty and chosen to honor Rowena in their own way. That wasn’t what Evangeline had expected. Not at all.

And now there was hope.

Hope that the Muldoons might be the family she had always dreamed of—the kind who valued her for who she was, not for her blood or her magic. Hope that they would not only accept but support her and Sebastian’s relationship. And for the first time, Evangeline dared to believe that her and Sebastian’s love wouldn’t be overshadowed by societal expectations. That they could finally shed the weight of judgment and whispers, the disapproving headlines in the Daily Prophet, and the endless speculation about her future.

And then there was the matter of Noctivus. A problem that had unknowingly loomed over them for far too long. If the Muldoons were as resourceful as they seemed—if they truly could help her and her friends confront him—then this nightmare might finally end.

Her gaze drifted to Cassian, Benedict, Percival, who were quietly discussing strategy with their wives near the door, their tones low but determined. Annalise had perched herseelf in the rocking chair, swinging her legs idly as she listened, her bright eyes darting between her family members. They all looked so... normal. Ordinary, even.

They weren’t monsters. They weren’t untouchable elites who saw her as a tool or an outsider. They were just... people. People who had made mistakes, certainly, but people who wanted to make things right.

Her chest tightened as the realization washed over her. For the first time in her life, she didn’t feel like an orphan. She felt like she belonged.

Sebastian turned back toward her, the letter now secured on the leg of a snowy white owl as it took off into the night. Sebastian's sharp dark eyes softened as they met hers, and a faint smile tugged at his lips. It wasn’t just reassurance in his gaze—it was trust. And love.

Evangeline smiled back, the weight in her chest easing as the warmth of his presence steadied her. Together, they would face whatever came next. Together, they would protect their friends, each other, and the life they were building.

And for the first time in a long while, together didn’t feel like such an impossible dream. It felt like a promise.

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animasola86 · 2 years ago

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The Darkness Within (Smut Edition) - Light

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x f!mc x Tom Riddle

Summary: When Genevieve dies at the end of the Battle of Hogwarts, Sebastian is driven mad with grief and sees only one way out of it: he has to bring her back, no matter what. He goes down the darkest path imaginable and in the end, it works, but not as he imagined - as he is suddenly transported to 62 years into the future. As is the love of his life. Until they finally meet again, both of them go down the opposite ends of the moral meter: one becomes an Auror and the other is charmed and influenced by none other than Tom Riddle, who is on the verge of gathering more and more people for his cause. Will they be able to rekindle their love, now that they are mortal enemies?

Genre: Angst/Smut/Dark!Romance

Warnings: Explicit sexual content. Auror vs Death Eater. Manipulation. Fluff.