Aoife watched with glee as Prometheus threw a mortified Niten into the air for the second time.
As soon as the ceremony had ended and they had headed down the aisle officially first time as husband and wife, the thought of it made the vampire giddy, a teary-eyed Prometheus had grabbed Aoife in a hug and had thrown her as well. The Japanese had laughed only as long as it took him to realized he was next.
When the Firelord finally put Niten on the ground he was visibly shaken trying to look a little more put together than he currently was. “After so many years we are finally family,” cried the bigger man hugging the swordsman again before releasing him. The vampire snatched her man back to give him a kiss on the cheek.
“You could have warned me,” said Niten against her ear pulling Aoife against him, his right hand remained around her shoulders. She sneaked her left hand around him as they made their way towards the lounge area where the drinks and snacks were waiting for them.
“I am not responsible for my uncle’s actions. But you probably should get used to it,” grinned the redhead unable to tame her smile. That’s all she wanted to do at the moment. Niten groaned and snuck a glare at the Lord of Fire, who was not at all offended by it and had the gall to laugh at his suffering.
They turned at the awaiting guests and as always Niten took the talking part. Aoife had no objections because it left her free to admire her husband. “There are drinks with and without alcohol and some refreshments, but the more filling meal will be served in about an hour and a half. The photographer will also be taking pictures. Enjoy.”
“You know – you are quite distracting,” said Niten after the they were not the centre of attention for the first time in a while. The food was taking their place in people’s minds.
The vampire smirked and teased: “Am I?” She wrapped her hands around his neck and pressed their lips together. She gave his lower lip a very suggestive bite that earned her a groan from her husband, and his hands brought her flush against him. Aoife could feel the bond thrumming with happiness from both of them. How could she have been that tense and not see Niten’s feelings?
Approaching steps made them break apart but not pull apart. Niten’s plump parted lips almost forced Aoife to surrender to her desire, blow the entire reception to the wind, and retire to their apartment. Almost.
Within a second, she was swept up by a familiar figure in pink. “My baby sister is already married!” cried Scathach clutching her sister. Aoife hugged her younger sister back, trying not to tear too much of the dress fabric with the tight grip she had on Scatty.
“It’s only right that the older one gets married first,” reminded the bride, letting her tears flow. The restoration of their relationship still took Aoife’s breath away. The feud between them had been her worst regret for ages and left her missing Scatty like a lost limb. When the twins had been wee bairns, they had been inseparables, always reading each other thoughts, and having the other’s back. Well…most of the time. There was this one time with a vimana that Aoife still hadn’t apologized for. Having it back and having Niten as her husband made her ecstatic.
Scatty’s own bloody tears prevented her beginning an argument that had been their constant companion since they were born – who had been first. Truth be told, they didn’t know the answer to that, so both claimed the title of older one. The bridesmaid brushed most of the red dots from the bride’s face away, but some remained. Aoife raised her right hand to take care of the missed tears. Niten smiled at the tender moment between sisters.
“My babies!” was the only warning they got before they were crushed into Prometheus’s enormous chest, their feet hanging off the ground. All of their efforts of trying to control their overwhelming feelings went out the window.
The sun was getting lower and lower, and it shined right into the lounge by the time Niten had finished drying Aoife’s tears. Scatty had went to change into something more comfortable, and Prometheus had taken a seat in Machiavelli, Billy the Kid and the Black Hawk’s table. The youngest had almost swallowed his spoon in surprise at the addition to their trio.
“They are invisible,” assured the man for the nth time, and put away the bloody handkerchief trying to reassure his wife. Aoife was still fidgeting, not completely believing him. “There is a mirror inside if you wish to take a look.”
Before she had a change to agree, a person with an expensive camera caught her eye. “Wait. Tell me you didn’t let the photographer take pictures with us crushed together like that.” His smile got her swearing. “Niten!”
“They will be absolutely adorable, Aoife,” laughed the swordsman not backing down. His thumb brushed along her now clean cheek. Until very recently the vampire would have either frozen or blushed under the attention, but this time she gave Niten a full smile with her vampire teeth out and everything. The bond hummed with satisfaction.
“Your husband speaks the truth, child.”
Now it was their time to keep themselves from jumping because of a sudden voice coming from Aoife’s right. The Witch of Endor approached them with a big pair of sunglasses hiding half her face, and most importantly, the place where her eyes should have been. She wore a simple, but elegant dark brown dress, and in her right hand held a pocket-sized mirror.
“Grandmother.”
“Elder.”
The couple turned to Zephaniah feeling like schoolchildren again in front of the ancient witch. The Witch. Aoife could sense Niten’s nervousness through the bond, however she could have also seen it from the way his body tensed, his cautious gaze and impeccable bow towards her grandmother.
“Elder, is that a way to greet your grandmother-in-law?” scowled Dora to the man.
The swordsman stammered: “Forgive me…”
“You can call me Dora or grandmother, after all, we are family,” cut the older him off without much thought. That statement got the Japanese to relax, but his posture never faltered. Aoife was secretly on cloud nine for him to be accepted by Dora. “Tell me how many times you contacted your family when you were a human, Niten?”
“I wrote to them every chance I got,” answered Niten diligently, but seemed confused as to where the conversation was heading. The vampire could see it from a mile away. She groaned prematurely in her head.
The older woman waved her hands towards the bride: “See, and I cannot get a single call from two of my grandchildren in centuries.”
“That is an overstatement, grandmother,” tried Aoife reasoning with her, but to no avail.
“I could have died, and nearly did, but did you even think about me, hm?” The redhead avoided the Witch’s gaze. “It’s good then that your husband knows the value of keeping in touch with one’s family. You will see to that I get a call every month, at least,” ordered Dora leaving no room for arguments. Niten shifted and offered a shy smile. “Do I need to remind you how to use mirrors, child?”
“No, Gran,” promised an embarrassed Aoife.
Zephaniah nodded. “I expect the first call within January already. This old woman would be very happy if you’d call more often, but I understand newlyweds need some alone time, too. How else I’m going to meet my great-grandchildren?”
The entire lounge witnessed as the Firelord choked on his drink. A few drops of liquid fell to the table, and Machiavelli cautiously drew back from the coughing man, lest he be covered in wine. Aoife was completely deaf to the chaos behind her back, because her own mind blanketed. As if through a veil, she felt Niten’s emotions mirror hers.
Children. That was not something she had ever thought about. Not once. All her life had been filled with fighting until winning or falling and near escapes. She had just come to terms with leading this dangerous life with Niten, believing their love was worth the dangers and ultimate heartbreak that would follow. But children were not suited for this. Well, their parents had children, and they were still alive.
Did she even want children? Without Niten the notion would seem absurd. She and a mother? The poor kid, would be her first thought. She had always seen motherhood as a cage. However, having a little Niten running around wasn’t as reluctant future prospect as she would have once thought. It did scare her a bit, though. Alright, a lot. But wait…
Did Niten want children? Would it even be possible? The immortal humans couldn’t have children and that would apply to Niten as well. Right?
Her husband was as speechless and lost as she was. Maybe even more so. Aoife turned to him only to discover his mouth was open wide as he stared at their grandmother.
“Immortal humans cannot have children. Take example Joan and Saint-Germain or the Flamels,” said the Japanese still not moving an inch. His gaze never leaving the older woman’s eyes as if spellbound.
Dora huffed. “You have not married an ordinary immortal, Miyamoto Musashi, but my grandchild. There are ways.” The redhead’s own mouth dropped at the revelation. The short woman smirked and added. “Only if you two wish. I will not curse children to have parents who do not wish them. Now give me a big hug.” She wrapped the newlyweds in a tight embrace. It took her a moment to respond. Aoife’s head rested in the crook of Zephaniah’s neck, and she breathed in (although, she didn’t need to) the familiar scent. It reminded the redhead of her childhood, when they used to be closer.
The hug calmed the vampire to a degree, but her mind was processing the new information. There were so many questions she did not know the answer to. Aoife mentally shooed away all the insecurities regarding Niten wanting children with her, and instead of fearing, she would later ask for his opinion. She had let her prejudice ruin much of their relationship, she would not do so again. It would take two to make children, the decision also belonged to the two of them, not only her.
After releasing them, Dora went to her brother, who was still recovering from the shock. The vampire caught phrases like “eavesdrop” and “serves you right” but didn’t really focus on them. Her second half needed the comfort first. Aoife took Niten’s left hand to her mouth and kissed the ring on it for absolutely no reason other than she felt like doing it.
Her husband looked at her with fright in his eyes. Her heart sank. That would not do. Not today. Not any day. “Children, Aoife. I’ve never even thought about having children. Not during my immortal life anyway. It’s not like I was able to father any, and adoption was not something I have ever considered.” Niten’s voice trembled. The new bond told her he was not scared, but more like a man who has been forced to reconsider many aspects of his life. The news had affected the vampire as well, however Niten felt more shaken. Perhaps the notion that all this time Aoife knew she theoretically could’ve gotten pregnant, but having kids of his own was taken from the swordsman the second he was Awakened played the part in their initial reactions.
She flipped his hand and gave a soothing kiss to the palm of his hand, while tugging him closer. Her other hand went to his hair. “A smart man once said to me that it’s our relationship, and we decide what we are doing in it. Not grandmother. If we want children, we tell Gran, if we don’t, then we don’t. To be honest, I don’t know either.” Her voice quivered. “I don’t know if I will ever be ready or even will want children of my own. But I know, it’s okay not to know. We don’t have to decide this week, next month, even this century. We may not even agree, and it’s okay.” During her little speech Niten began to calm down, his shoulders finally relaxing, his gaze filling with warmth again, and the corners of his mouth turning upwards.
“That must have been one smart man if he said all that,” teased the Japanese wrapping his arms around her.
Aoife’s second hand reached to his neck, her thumb trailing his chin. “My husband is very clever. Much cleverer than me.” The bond lit up after she called him by his rightful title.
“Hardly.” Her objection was cut off by a quick tactical kiss by the defending party.
The photoshoot was funnier than Aoife had expected. Usually, she avoided cameras at all costs, being an immortal vampire and all that, but tonight she and Niten were the main attractions, so there was nowhere to hide. The photographer was a persistent little bugger, but Niten had assured he was good at his job. It shined through when he even got the bride to relax and enjoy posing for pictures. The magic bubble that heated their wedding celebrations had melted all the snow in the place, which made the location choosing easier and the man took full advantage of that. There were half a dozen poses and groups that the photographer fella put together for the shoot. Sometimes it was their immediate family, other times it was the women, then the men, then friend photos, sister photos etc. Surprisingly, Aoife found herself smiling and indulging the strange human when he commanded them to yet another location.
On one occasion, Scatty, who disregarded the pink dress for chic pants and a shirt, scooped Aoife up and climbed on a tree branch. The bride protested at the beginning but with a shake of her head turned towards the camera and smiled. She will get back at Scatty some time later. But her sister’s little stunt did give her an idea. Once on the ground, she approached her unsuspecting husband, gave him a quick kiss, and swept him to her arms. The Japanese’s yelp changed into laughter as soon as he knew what was going on and gave his wife a longer kiss. It was immortalized by the wedding photographer.
After the photoshoot they were called to the lounge. The lounge had originally been an ordinary tent that was changed into something magical. It had a soft blue hue due to an extensive number of blue decorations used. The lounge had shimmering lights illuminating its every corner, a dozen different tables, and an open space, where the dancing will be done. The entrance to the lounge was open for now but would be closed when the early evening gave away to the night.
The grand entrance and introductions were kept short, because if everyone was going to tell their life story, they wound not end this wedding this century. As the staff was preparing for the meal service, the couple prepared themselves for the first dance as husband and wife. Aoife eyed her uncle and grandmother who sat next to their own empty seats. She knew there was some mischief coming from at least from Prometheus during the speeches. Not to mention Scatty. Aoife shook her head at the thought. What had her younger twin come up with? Then the vampire remembered that these speeches were for her wedding to Niten. Her insides turned warm from the reality, and she couldn’t help but look at her husband. HUSBAND!
The bond flickered to light as Niten caught her gaze, amused. When the cue from the live band, which was assembled by previous bandmates of Scatty’s, came, the Japanese slid his right hand to Aoife’s small back and caught her right one with his left, and led them across the dancefloor. Niten was much better dancer than the vampire, but she had put an effort in learning and was keeping up with her husband. The redhead blushed. She really needed to stop finding any excuse to call him that or she’d end up doing little else.
The man in question pulled her a little bit closer, but there was still enough space between them to be appropriate in public. Unfortunately, sighed Aoife in her mind. “What is it?”
When before, she’d scoffed and brushed off the question, now she had the courage to say: “Just thinking how good it feels to call you my husband.” Aoife’s smile widened at Niten’s own smile. “Can’t wait to call you that also in another environment.” The man’s expression turned scandalous and his step faltered. Aoife laughed as he corrected both their steps, not feeling a little bit bad about causing it.
“You know we can hear you, right?” shouted Scatty from the sidelines.
Aoife cried back without any shame: “Well, then don’t listen to us.”
As the music ended, Niten used the loud applaud to hide his own tease and whispered to her ear: “I’ll look forward to calling you my wife from now on.” He kissed her cheek.
The vampire recovered quickly, but her cheeks were still red. “As you wish, my husband.” She then drew his face closer to her and captured his lips in a kiss that definitely wasn’t suitable in public. Aoife reluctantly pulled herself free of him, when Niten had moaned into her mouth. She didn’t want anyone else experiencing this. But it was hard to hold back when his swollen lips were begging to be bitten, and his gaze held hers in captive. She could feel his excitement through the bond.
After they had relocated to their seats, and Dora had given them mischievous grin, Prometheus stood up and hit his glass with a spoon three times to draw the guest’s attention. The elated rumble got quieter as the older man began his welcome speech. He glanced Aoife’s way with glassy eyes that held thousands of years of care.
“Welcome to the wedding I thought I would never see.” The Elder toasted. “The first time I saw these two, I knew they would end up together,” began Prometheus already tearing up. The vampire scoffed at the unreasonable claim. The time Aoife had introduced Niten to her uncle they had been a little more than acquaintances. There was no way he could have predicted that outcome. The redhead herself wasn’t sure about resuming her travels with the Japanese. A familiar spark of their new bond let her feel the opposite from Niten. She turned to catch his eyes which sparkled with joy. Aoife raised her brows in silent question to which she received a playful smile.
“There was no doubt in my mind, but I knew there would be a lot in theirs,” said Prometheus with a wet laugh, but managing to make his words understandable. “You should have seen them. As humans like to say – two sides of the same coin. My niece’s side being the more chaotic one.” Firelord was too proud of this poor joke in Aoife’s opinion. The vampire shook her head at such an unreasonable claim, while letting Niten wrap his left hand around her right one. “I mean Aoife actually listened to him. That was the moment I knew.”
“I listen to others,” interrupted the redhead without thinking, drawing everyone’s attention to her.
Prometheus grinned, putting down the cards he hadn’t used anyway: “Rarely, and definitely not after you have made up your mind about something.” That made her close her mouth and admire the roof of the tent for a second. “And he was right behind you gazing at you like you were the sun.” It was Niten’s time to blush. “When he talked you out of killing this king, whose name I can’t recall, I knew. You truly took his advice to heart. I hadn’t seen that since Scathach.” A slash pain went through the woman, remembering the awfully long time they were not talking to each other because of some man. She glanced at Scatty, who looked equally stricken by the comment, sitting next to Prometheus’s currently empty seat. Aoife offered her sister a hopeful grin to which her younger sister answered with a wide smile. All was well again in the world.
The man wearing bright orange suit glanced at his cards. “What I’m trying to convey here is that I have witnessed many Elders, immortals and mortals fall in love, out of love,” Niten grimaced at that, “being stubborn, in denial and everything in between. So, three out of four for you then.” He gestured down to them. Aoife groaned while rolling her eyes but couldn’t stay mad at the most beautiful day of her long life. “There are many different loves and couples out there but there are two things in common in those which last – truth and growth. Love that’s not built upon lies, deceit, and shallow attraction. It means they see the other person as they truly are and are truthful of their mistakes if need be. But even then, they still stay and love them despite everything. Encouraging them to be better.”
The words hit hard as Aoife was reminded of their rocky relationship. Many key moments were displayed during their vows – how she failed to consider Niten’s feelings and made decisions for both of them without consulting the man; how he had assumed her answer without actually asking her. Others were known only to themselves. Through it all, Niten had stayed and inspired her to be better. Less hot-headed, more tactful, and reminded the woman her life mattered. The notion the vampire had often forgotten after the fight. The Japanese had also helped her smooth out things with Scatty. When Aoife had let the dark thoughts win convincing herself her sister wouldn’t want her around again, it was Niten who coaxed the vampire out of her shell and made sure the two talked. She could only hope, she’d someday repay him for that. The bond she had reforged with Scatty couldn’t be measured in anything. So yes, Aoife’s life and she herself had gotten indefinitely better with Niten in it. She owed him so much!
“I guess that’s my way of saying they accept the good and the bad and help them grow. And that’s what I see here,” continued her uncle keeping the couple in his sights. “I see two people who have genuinely become better versions of themselves because of the other right before my own eyes!” Prometheus brushed away a tear. Aoife had to do the same before squeezing her husband’s hand. “And I saw that miniscule change in Aoife’s demeanour even during the first time. When I came to know you, my friend,” he nodded to Niten, “I saw the change in you, too. There were still nudges I needed to give to both of you, but I knew.”
Prometheus raised his glass and toasted: “Congratulations to Aoife and Niten, and welcome to the wedding I have waited for centuries!”
The newly-weds raised their glasses in an emotional toast. Even Aoife couldn’t pretend she wasn’t affected by her uncle’s speech. An unruly tear dripped down her face before being brushed away be the man’s finger. His hand swiftly captured her nape and pulled her into a deep kiss, letting it covey the emotional turmoil the Firelord speech had ignited in him.
After the meal which even the vampires of the party enjoyed, Aoife and Niten left their guests to finish their food and made their way to the dressing room once again for an outfit change. The woman had picked out a chic combination of a red button up shirt that transformed into a cape at the back and black trousers. From the back it seemed like she was wearing a dress. The swordsman had opted for his usual suit but in a dark blue colour that complimented his aura and brought out his hair’s blue hue when the light hit it just right.
The problem was getting the outfits on. The complexity of the situation didn’t arise from the clothing, but from the people themselves. As soon as Niten had entered the dressing room. Aoife had pushed her husband against this time closed door and attacked his lips. She knew he didn’t have any objections as their bond pulsed with need from both of them. The man’s groan into her mouth made her skin tingle. She grabbed his soft hair to tilt his head just the way she wanted and licked into hot his mouth. His hands found their way onto her naked back, giving her goosebumps. It didn’t matter the vampire had tasted the man every possible way and he had mapped out her entire body with his tongue and lips, his skin on hers made her go crazy. How had they gone on for so long without doing this? How could she have ever thought there was nothing romantic between them? The bond allowed Aoife to experience firsthand Niten’s true feelings regarding her.
The kissing was intensified because of it. Her every cell felt attuned to him. Niten’s love that she could now mentally feel filled her the best way possible. The burning need to consume her was seeping through his very being and into her. She gasped at the strength of his affections that threatened to overwhelm her. The vampire’s heart bled and sang at the same time as some of his insecurities and adoration for her suddenly surfaced, laced with pits of memories of them from his point of view.
The surprise when they crossed swords for first time because he had been ready for Scatty’s non-existent fighting style.
The interest in the mysterious woman who looked like the warrior he had once defeated that didn’t allow him to drift to sleep that night.
The quiet admiration for her when she led an outnumbered army to a glorious victory, and being flattered after Aoife invited him to share adventures with her.
The heartbreak in Spain after acknowledging his feelings and she unknowingly piercing his heart by vowing to never love anyone besides Scatty again.
The desperation and anger at her after saving the little girl’s life and the redhead screaming at him, after that standing at the same place against all odds wishing for her to return which she didn’t.
The fear as he raced to her rescue in Krakatau, terrified of finding her mutilated body; regret of never expressing his feelings; dread of losing the best thing in his life.
The longing when she wore the stunning green dress to a ball, she herself had long forgotten about, making him fall in love with her for the nth time.
The love burning brightly every time he gazed at her, knowing he could never express it eating away his insides until he came to terms with his unrequited love.
The acceptance of never setting his eyes at her again, facing yet another Spartoi in a foggy San Francisco, his strength fading.
The relief of hearing her voice calling out to him until blessing him with the most beautiful sight of all.
The absolute happiness when she accepted his proposal and his love, weaving together his long-bleeding heart, gifting him hers.
Unbeknownst to her, he had experienced a similar rush of her memories regarding him. They forced their way into his head, not stopping for one second. One memory after another slid into his consciousness, enlightening Niten of her deepest fears and hidden emotions, rendering him motionless.
The curiosity at seeing the immovable Japanese warrior take down legions of enemies with the swiftness of his swords.
The deference at him for holding on his own against her, a few times even coming close to knocking her weapons from her hands.
The annoyance at herself when she couldn’t shake the mortal human from her mind.
The rush of delight at learning he had been Awakened, unexpectedly asking him to accompany her.
The fright at seeing his wounded hand he had kept from her, the betrayal when thinking he was only following her because of duty, being deeply hurt at the allegation; then being furious at herself for letting him think he was her guard; the difficulty of opening up to him at the end.
The horror going through her every time he got hurt, turning into rage she took out on him; then desperately wishing on Rika he wouldn’t have jumped in front of her to take the arrow, because physical pain was easier to handle than whatever was seething inside of her, than considering very real possibility of losing him.
The panic at coming to a conclusion about her feelings after having turned her back to him that she hated herself for; the yearning for him she tried and failed to suppress that year; the dread at being captured; the moment the world stopped when she recognized his sword; the torment when she thought he was dead; the immense relief of seeing his blue origami land on the platform; the painful voiceless pleading for him to confess they were more than friends; the dull ache when he didn’t; then convincing it was better; beating herself up after Prometheus had told her how she really treated him.
The denial of her feelings which if revealed would have solved the whole situation.
The hope that maybe he reciprocated when he seemed to gaze at her with nothing but warmth, then persuading herself she was imagining this.
The hesitation every time she was about to confess.
The anguish when he lay dead on the Golden Gate Bridge, begging him to come back, not wanting to live in a world where she didn’t even muster up the courage to confess.
The euphoria of holding him alive against her, never wanting to let go.
The overwhelming love when they kissed for the first time after he confessed and asked for her hand.
It was too much…too much at once. Four hundred years’ worth of memories bottled up, one on top of another. Intermingling. Impossible to differentiate.
They broke apart, and the images stopped abruptly.
Niten gasped from the lack of air and from the images, Aoife only from the latter. The vampire’s thoughts were all over the place, trying to separate hers from his. Her mind reeling from the onslaught of everything. Was that how Sophie felt when Dora had given her access to all of her memories? She could barely remain upright, her hand grabbing a backrest of a nearby chair.
The emotional whiplash had rendered her mind unaware to everything else but Niten’s turmoil throughout their relationship. Even if she had weeks, she still couldn’t work through every little detail she’d learned. The redhead couldn’t wrap her head around that the Japanese thought he wasn’t enough for her or that she would cut him off if he’d confessed. She came to know it to some extent from the vows but experiencing it was on a whole other level. Those were the exact same fears that had possessed her. If she had revealed her feelings, he’d welcomed them with open arms. Stupid! Ah, she’d been such an idiot! How did she not see it? Even Prometheus had clocked it. In their first meeting!
The other side of the story was not quite so gratifying as coming to witness that he had felt the same all this time had been. Aoife letting him down, not noticing him, being rude and dismissive. The little remarks she never bothered to correct. The comments she felt entitled to give that gutted him. Being snappy as a way of protecting herself, when he only wished to help. A thousand cutting moments that Niten had swallowed and some he didn’t rushed through the vampire threatening to bring her to her knees. The heartache she caused him was too much to bear as she gripped the chair tighter. The world tilted before her eyes.
Their bond was tugging at them to continue so insistently that Aoife had to physically stop herself from taking a step in her husband’s direction. It was borderline painful to be separated from him with the unseen cord pulling her, but she knew she needed a brief moment to process this. Was it the same for him? Did Niten experience it also?
“Aoife,” whispered the man, his back leaning against the changing room wall. The dark eyes searched for green ones, which confirmed her suspicions that he, too, had witnessed her memories. A jolt went through her. What had he seen?
“I guess that’s another side effect of the bond,” concluded the vampire the obvious to keep herself from reaching out to him, dispelling all his doubts and fears, apologizing for her past behaviour that had brought him so much pain, soothing the man who had loved her for so long. To keep herself from begging for his forgiveness for everything. It was a miracle he was still with her. The woman shook her head, when she felt the familiar creeping of the dark thoughts entering her. No, these will make things even worse, she reminded herself. “Why did it affect us now? I mean, it’s certainly not the first time we’ve kissed after the ceremony.” Her voice quieted form the uncertainty.
The man’s mind was still coiling but managed to push himself to his feet. He had yet to look away from her, his gaze burning through her. “Perhaps the bond needed the time to develop, perhaps it was intensity, I don’t know, Aoife,” he said without really noticing his words, his focus clearly somewhere else. On her. All his attention was on her. Which of her memories had affected him so much to prompt such a reaction?
The desperate expression on his face broke her and she surrendered to the need willingly. The vampire stepped towards the Japanese, put her right palm over his beating heart, ready to fall back in time once more. A second went by and nothing happened. “Huh? Strange.” She added the second hand, letting the warmth from his body heat her up again. His half-undone kimono from their previous activity revealed an undershirt. She sneaked her fingers beneath the outer robe and wrapped her arms around him under the kimono. The redhead shut her eyes, put herself against him and laid her head on his chest. Niten rested his cheek on her head and pulled her closer, his hands lingering on her naked back. Aoife noticed his trembling but didn’t comment. She had a feeling he would enlighten her when he was ready. But if not, she would ask him. In the meantime, she basked in his embrace and calmed her whirling mind. It was hard to wrap her head around everything at once. She needed to apologize, but right now it seemed he needed her physical reassurance more.
Clocked ticked as they were in no hurry to get back to the wedding venue. The redhead began contemplating whether she should move or not. She could abandon the rest of the celebration but knew Niten would want to be there at least until it was acceptable for them to leave.
“You thought I was dead,” came a whisper above her head. The vampire pulled back enough to catch his wet gaze. So that’s what resonated with him. This horrible deceit by the Nagas. Aoife hid her irritation at the memory, because that’s the last thing her husband needed now. “My sword…they…I felt your pain.” The raw truth from his mouth opened up the old wound. The woman had decisively refused to think about that day or at least those few moments her world had died and then revived by the blue origami.
The changing room changed into a volcanic crater, and Aoife was once again chained up with no chance of escape. The worst part was below her – a lone sword which had lost its rightful wielder. When the vampire had first laid her eyes on this weapon it had sliced through approaching enemies with such grace and precision that it had almost appeared as a practiced dance, and the man controlling its movements had no fear despite being surrounded thousands of soldiers who came at him with terrifying speed. Such an elegant weapon would now collect dust if it wouldn’t be broken into pieces like it had done with her world.
“Aoife!” called the beautiful man out to her, shaking her gently, forcing her out of this miserable memory. She shook her head to rid of the cursed image only to find a red tear fall onto her dress. The redhead swore this new bond was making her more emotional. But it had been her choice and plan, so she really could only beat herself up for it.
“It’s alright, Niten,” assured the vampire, cupping his cheek. “You survived; you came for me. Everything’s alright.”
The Japanese kissed her forehead. “You never told me.” His tone wasn’t accusing, rather sad. He was remorseful, she had to carry that weight alone. He caressed her head, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear only for it to come loose again. Then his fingers found her golden ornaments she used to adorn her fiery hair and gently took them out of her hair. He knew she was going to abandon them with this outfit change they still hadn’t managed to do.
“I didn’t want to think about it. Let alone relive it,” explained the woman, trailing her hands all over his body as if remining herself he hadn’t fallen under the Nagas’ attack. That it wasn’t a good dream she was seeing while being knocked out in a world where Niten was dead.
They were completely lost in each other, mapping their partner with gazes and hands, committing them to memory. Aoife brushed his thick black hair and told younger version of herself that it was just as soft as she imagined. Then dragged her thumb along his small scar on his chin. He had it when they met, she had never asked about it. She should. She should give her heart a free reign over her actions for once.
The man whispered sorrowfully: “If it had been you, I don’t know what I’d have done.” His arms went slack and dropped to his side. “Not knowing if you were alive or not was torment enough.”
Aoife didn’t have a good answer to that. She had and internally still struggled with the same possibility. The possibility of losing him. But there was one thing she had come to know for certain – it was worth it. For so long she had hidden behind that excuse. She told that to herself and to Prometheus. She caught his eyes and swore: “And if once it is me, you will live on.” His jaw stiffened, but there was quiet acceptance in his gaze. She took a breath she didn’t need to be ready for the next, hardest part. “Just as it will be other way around. I get that now. I tried to keep you safe by pushing you away. I told myself it would hurt less that way.” The redhead quickly remembered with the shook of her head. “But you know it all, don’t you?”
“Even if I know, I’d still listen to you a thousand times. And the quick whirling of memories definitely didn’t transfer everything.” He offered her a soft smile. “We have wasted so many decades, centuries trying to be prepared for something we can never be prepared for by denying our feelings. And yet, when I thought I lost you, my only regret was not confessing. When I was nearing that island, I would have done anything to have a chance to say “I love you.”. It wasn’t better,” he spit out the word, “that you might have died without knowing the full extent of my feelings, it was the worst. I thought I would suffocate at my own cowardice. I pleaded to whoever was listening. My wish was granted, but as you looked at me all my previous fears clouded my mind again. I was so close to confessing at the beach. I should have done it.” While technically the vampire had experienced all of this just a few moments prior, it was heartbreaking to hear his thoughts out loud. The last bit brought forward a wave of self-hatred that rushed through the bond to Aoife. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed his forehead. He closed his eyes and hugged her tightly to him.
“Like you said we have wasted too much time regretting and thinking about what ifs. How about we instead think about what is?”
Aoife felt his smile against her cheek. Niten sighed and glanced at the clock. “And what is – is that we have no time. How about we take a time to discuss what we saw after our wedding? Because I have questions, probably you too. For now, let’s just enjoy the celebration. And who knows, maybe the bond will surprise us with more memories to go through.”
“Sounds good. I love you, Niten. And I’m sorry for being an inconsiderate asshole,” said Aoife sincerely and vowed to herself never to keep him in the dark again about something important. They were partners, weren’t they? Equals. Supporting each other, standing side by side, not behind. Not because Niten was her guard and not because she thought needed to protect him.
“Apology accepted. I love you too, Aoife.” The Japanese gave her a sweet kiss. “And I’m sorry, too.” At the vampire’s confused look, he explained: “For being a coward and drawing my confession out until I died. This time for real.”
In the end, they did manage to change into their respective outfits. When they returned to the venue, the guests whistled and applauded as probably many thought they would opt out from the party. Most had finished the meal and were waiting for the toasts. Some were dancing to Scatty’s band. Wait…her sister had joined her bandmates and was now on the stage. Was that their grandmother who was dancing?
Aoife shook her head at the loud crowd whose whole attention was on them and whispered to her better half: “Let’s never do this again.” She already regretted emerging from the changing room, her eyes scanning the large tent. The redhead didn’t even personally know half the people invited. Why were they at their wedding in the first place? Why were the French couple here? Was she supposed to entertain them? She shuddered at the thought. Prometheus had some explaining to do. Before, it hardly mattered to her, but now began the talking part, the funny stories and whatever people did in the weddings after the formal part was over. And they were the main attraction. Great.
“Agreed,” said the swordsman who was a little embarrassed and Aoife felt was beginning to tire from all the extravagant celebrating. He squeezed her hand. At least Niten was by her side.
“You do the talking.”
The night was still young and before they could officially retire, they had a hundred and one things to do. For the toasts everyone took their respective seats. Because Prometheus already had his chance at speaking for the welcome speech, the opening toast went to Scatty.
Aoife had to admit; this was the speech she was the most nervous about. She could lie and say she feared old embarrassing stories coming to light, but that wasn’t it. Scathach was and always will be her most loved family. The one she depended on growing up; the one she shared the most ridiculous adventures with; the one she ultimately betrayed for an insignificant humani. The truth was Scatty had the power to hurt her the most. Aoife was used to Dora saying she was an embarrassment and valuing her sister over her; she knew Prometheus loved her, but Scatty was the dark horse so to speak. When they had reconciled, Aoife had felt her twin’s love once again, which had overwhelmed her and she had sobbed uncontrollably on her baby sister’s shoulder. Consolidation was that Scatty hadn’t been any better. The bride knew she deserved harsh words from her sister but couldn’t diminish hope that the speech would also include some kind ones.
When Scatty got up, Aoife was already feeling a lump in her throat. She blinked her eyes to drive away the tears that were gathering. She has yet to say a word, you big cry-baby, scolded the vampire herself, but gripped Niten’s hand even more desperately.
“Hello, I’m Scathach, Aoife’s sister, the bridesmaid, if anyone doesn’t yet know. My list of titles is endless, and I will not intimidate you by saying all of them out loud,” began Scatty. “Before I get into the emotional stuff my uncle swore, I needed to say. I will take this opportunity to clear up a very old accusation,” she looked at Aoife, and grinned, here it comes, “it was Aoife who crashed that vimana, not me.”
“Really, Scatty?” asked the one in question. That was the story she chose? Well, she did get a lot of yelling and even punishment from their parents for that. Aoife had felt bad about it, but stubbornness kept her mouth shut.
Some members of the audience were confused as they had no context to what they were arguing about or what even a vimana was, but some found the back and forth hilarious even without the context. It’s not every day you witness two of the deadliest warriors acting like children screaming at each other. Only Prometheus was truly surprised, because Dora already knew the truth. Somewhere back of the tent Billy the Kid made a bet with Machiavelli on whether she would admit her guilt. Scatty had informed Aoife these two were now dating, not that she had asked nor cared.
Her sister nodded vigorously: “Really. I got into so much trouble for it! Say it!” Aoife gritted her teeth, but it seemed Scatty had taken it upon herself to reveal her stupid lie. She knew she had something up her sleeve. But…it could have been worse.
She rolled her eyes but sighed in defeat. “Fine. Yes, it was me, but Scatty distracted me!” defended the bride, remembering a time so long ago that it might have been a dream. Two young vampires stealing their father’s vimana to take it to the skies, to explore new territories, meet new people, to put their poor flying skills to the test, to argue the whole time who should be at the helm and ultimately crash. And Aoife fearing their parents’ wrath sputtering out that it was Scatty who was responsible for the accident, cracking the first rift in their relationship.
Scathach shot back: “Good pilots can fly even under duress.”
“I bet none of those pilots had a screaming Scathach beside them.”
“I didn’t scream.”
“Oh, you were terrified.”
“Was not.”
“Were to.”
“Well, if I was it was because I had you as a pilot, and it seemed my fears were justified.”
“Children,” interrupted Dora whose ears were beginning to hurt from all that noise. Aoife settled back on her chair and pointedly ignored Niten’s amused gaze.
Scatty cleared her throat. “As justice has finally been established, I can go on.” The bride swallowed a curse in their mother language for that “justice”. In her heart, she agreed with Scatty’s demand for truth, she had lied, but her brain and recent self-discovery for more healthy life hadn’t completely overruled her rebellious nature. After all they were sisters, worse they were twins, having fights was what they did. If it didn’t end up separating them for hundreds of years, again, her mind added.
The standing redhead looked at the cards. “Oh, I probably should have started with the welcome, although Prometheus had already said that in his speech,” that earned her a few laughs, “and special thanks to our uncle, who organized this.” Prometheus stood as the applauding filled the venue. The man in the orange suit buttoned his jacket and waved at the crowed.
Aoife agreed: “On that account we have to give credit to our uncle, because we,” a look from Niten, “I mean me, had very little to do with the organization of,” she gestured the surrounding tent with both hands, “all this. Most of the time, I was tracking the crystal.”
“Thank you, my darlings, I had the most wonderful time putting it together,” admitted the Firelord, leaning over to give Aoife a bear hug, and then to Scatty. The bride held herself back commenting on the ridiculous number of guests he invited, but even she had some courtesy of not spit into the face of the people who went out of their way to come here. That being said, it didn’t mean she would be best friends with just anyone here.
When Prometheus had sat down again, partly because Dora had tugged him, muttering about stealing the attention, Scatty continued. “So now, we are getting to the fun part,” she murmured to herself, but Aoife nonetheless heard it. Her heart was pounding in anticipation of what was to follow. Why did it have to be in front of all those people, who they hardly knew? It was hard enough to sit on her seat hearing Scatty out and not bolt out the tent. That’s what she’d done most of her life. But not anymore.
“Ah,” filled Scatty an uncomfortable silence. She ran her hand through her short hair and turned to the main couple. “Well, to start, I want to say that I am happy that my sister has found herself a decent man.” Niten smirked. “More than a decent man. A good man, who loves her. Not that I would have allowed it if that weren’t the case.” On the surface, Aoife jeered as if Scatty could deny her anything, but on the inside, she was delighted that she cared for her happiness.
“I am glad you had someone to share adventured with when…I wasn’t there.” The ending got quieter, and Scathach shifted his gaze from Aoife to the paper in her hands to hide some of her embarrassment. The bride sniffled and blinked the first wetness away. Scatty wasn’t going to get her crying that easily. The redhead standing chuckled. “Thank you, Niten. I know my sister didn’t make it easy for you.”
“I have always appreciated a good challenge.” Aoife shook her head as the crowd found it too hilarious for her taste. Niten kissed her on the cheek, and all was forgotten. The bond shined with unadulterated love that made Aoife question how in the world had she managed to get her sister back and make Niten fall in love with her? In her mind, she hadn’t done anything, but perhaps that’s where the beauty of it laid – the man had fallen for the worst version of herself.
That’s what she’d been without Scatty and before Niten. A woman without purpose other than keeping an eye on her sister roaming the Earth shadowrealm full of humani who she had less than enthusiastic feelings for causing and solving mayhem waiting to sacrifice herself for the Shadow. She had been a vicious, cruel beast with no one to soften the blows from her claws. She had been angry at Scatty, at the world, at herself. She had stopped believing in love, goodness, redemption, genuine kindness; she only saw the betrayal, misery, ambition, hurt, wrath and not only in herself, but in others. She had stopped caring for herself. There was no one to convince her that all things were balanced. Without the good, there would be no bad that she chose to see. That she only needed to open her soul and let it in.
Then she met a Japanese who was the embodiment of everything she lacked, had forgone when her sister broke her heart. And how could she have not believed in those things when there was a living proof? A man so kind and soft that even Aoife of the Shadows in her worst of times had succumbed to his genuineness. A man who singlehandedly convinced her that goodness still existed in this Shadowrealm. Somehow all of it had gathered in this strange young Japanese warrior, who shone in Aoife’s eyes like the brightest of all the stars. Niten had somehow seen through every single wall of hers and coaxed out the better version of herself, the one she no longer believed existed at all. That Scathach had killed her with her hurtful words, slashed apart and never put together again.
Making amends with Scatty had been a bit more complicated and demanded delicate skill (read: crying, admitting that she was wrong to accuse her of killing Cuchulain and apologizing), but after reconciliation the sisters’ bond was stronger than ever. They both had grown, in emotional sense, they would likely never grow taller, which had helped them recognize their own mistakes and own up to them.
So, now Aoife had the two most important person in her life. And she was getting emotional. Again. She really needed to stop that. It was getting embarrassing. And yes, she was aware that it was her wedding.
Scathach had went on with her toast, fully committing to the pulling at her heartstrings moment. Her voice began to waver, but she didn’t let it stop her. “When Abraham said you had willingly given your life to save mine, I didn’t believe it at first. I thought you had given up on me.”
“NEVER,” snarled Aoife, startling half the guests, jumping up, sneaking behind Prometheus, who was sniffed into a handkerchief, and grabbing her sister by her shoulders to shake some wisdom into her. “You are my sister, my twin, I would never give you up. Not for anyone. Not for anything.” Those words could be carved into her tombstone that’s how sure she was of them. Before she had been Aoife of the Shadows feared by billions, she had been a twin sister to an unruly redhead and that’s what she would aways be.
“I know now; I hate myself for ever doubting you, because I did,” explained her twin sadly, the paper forgotten next to the plate, she laid her palms on top of Aoife’s clothed elbows. “I was on Danu Talis when I first thought about you for a very long time. I missed you and wished you’d been there with me because I believed you’d definitely have a plan to get us out of this mess I found myself in. In a place that very much correlated with the place that was said to be my final one. It was a very good chance I’d die there without ever seeing you again.” Aoife squeezed her shoulders, letting the emotions freely play out on her face. A world without Scatty was unbearable. “But I didn’t think you’d think of me.”
An absurd notion. And a one that stung. Because she had failed to express how much she cared to her sister. Their last conversation would have been hardly a conversation at all, full of hate and unreasonable accusations. One Aoife would have never forgiven herself for if Scatty had truly died on that island in the past.
But that’s what she had tried to prevent by waiting her chance. The bride confessed fiercely: “The only reason I stayed in this Shadowrealm was because of you. To be there when you might need me. I was said that there would come a time where I had a chance to protect you. To make amends.” The embarrassment of the public fell away; the only one that matter in this moment was Scatty.
Her sister’s eyes went wide because she hadn’t revealed that detail in their reconciliation. And probably answered quite a few questions she’d had. “Aoife,” she breathed, the pronunciation of her name had a tilt of their mother tongue revealing how deeply it affected her, red liquid filling the corners of her eyes. Aoife watched Scatty realize by the seriousness of her expression she’d meant every word.
It took the Shadow a second to gather herself, all the while clinging to her sister’s arms like a lifeline. When was the last time Scatty had done that? Perhaps when they were children. “Then Abraham gave me a gift.” The bride’s eyebrows burrowed. What gift? Some old man gave her sister a gift?! Aoife was ready to throw hands but forced herself to listen. “The gift was news about you.” Alright, that was his gift. Okay, she had judged too early. The man had her gratitude. “That you were alive and needed my help. Along with the notion you had sacrificed yourself for me. It took me a good few seconds to come to the realization that you had really done that.” Scathach swallowed but kept eye contact even though both twins were now openly shedding tears. “After the battle, Sophie confirmed it.”
A quick glance to where the lonely twin was sitting with a soft smile and a mournful look, no doubt seeing the parallels to her and Josh. Aoife reminded herself to go thank the girl and perhaps offer comfort. Not that she’d be any good at it, but they had bonded over losing their twins. An immense sadness went through Aoife when she realized that while she’d in her heart always known there would be a moment when she’d be reunited with Scathach or at least she’d be able to ensure her safety one last time, Sophie had permanently lost the twin she knew. The Josh she’d grown up with wasn’t coming back. The heaviness of it relented a little when she spotted an all-in black figure with one hand sitting behind the young girl, watching over her.
She turned her attention back to Scatty. “The moment I waited for all those years. I knew it would come.” It had been liberating to a certain extent. Knowing she’d finally fulfilled her purpose and saved her sister even with the consequence of trapping herself in with Coatlicue for all eternity.
“All I wanted in that moment was to tell you how much I loved you, but I was in the past and you were trapped in a prison Shadowrealm,” said Scathach, stepping closer to her sister. “I feared I would never get that chance. That my own stubbornness and unwillingness to make the first step had cost me my sister. Forever this time. In the end, you didn’t need my help, but I would have come. I would have…” Her speech ended in sobs when she wrapped Aoife in a tight hug. Her familiar figure so comforting around the vampire. It reminded her their first embrace after reuniting in Scatty’s dōjō.
“I know, a dheirfiúr,” whispered Aoife, caressing her sister’s short hair identical to her own as Scatty’s fingers dug into her back. Aoife murmured in the ancient language, while trying to not break down herself, although her face was smeared with red tears. Some audience members looked away to give them some privacy, some were too entranced by the scene of two immortal vampires that they let themselves be swept away by the emotions and some pretended not to gawk but still peeked from the corner of their eyes. And some (read: Prometheus) were crying with them.
“I’m so happy you have a wedding,” said Scathach after a while, drawing back, desperation in her eyes replaced by joy, her vampire teeth on full display she pried over Aoife’s shoulder. “And you too, Niten.” The man raised his hand in greeting before wiping at his eyes.
The bride knocked her sister on the shoulder gently. “With whom else I was going to have a wedding with, you rascal?”
“To the bride and groom,” toasted Scathach quickly ending the toast.
The night dragged on, and the sun had disappeared beneath the San Francisco Bay. Niten said a few words of his own, but as he himself commented, everyone was sick of him talking, kept it short. The family dances and the cake cutting passed without bigger incidents, although Aoife had made her displeasure of having a horde of guests known to her uncle during their dance. Prometheus had only laughed and embraced her tightly.
In honour of Niten, they decided to include kagami biraki – a Japanese ceremony that can mean breaking kagami mochi (rice cakes) or opening a cask of sake for good fortune. They opened a sake barrel with wooden mallets. Aoife didn’t need to use their new bond to tell it meant a lot to Niten. He smiled brightly, not that he hadn’t before, it was their wedding, but participating in a tradition from his homeland brought out a light in him that made him shine radiantly. The woman had hardly turned her gaze from her husband during the opening ceremony, only to actually open the barrel, then his attention returned to Niten. To everyone’s surprise, the entire affair had been her idea.
When Prometheus had once sat them both down to go over the most important details, and began debating whether to include a tradition or two from the time of Elders, the bride had wrinkled her nose and scoffed that she didn’t even know these traditions her parents found important, after all she and Scatty had born to the Next Generation. She had considered a handfasting that humans had developed in the area where she’d been born but that also didn’t feel right. They weren’t her traditions. She didn’t belong anywhere but with Niten. And Scatty. So, she decided to make her own – finding the crystal to swore herself to Niten. Only that would require help, a lot of help. She’d have to ask her uncle and sister.
After a pointless discussion if she was sure, Aoife had an excellent idea. She proposed they’d include a Japanese tradition. It meant more to Niten then any ancient tradition her uncle had grown up with would mean to the redhead. The man had been more than excited for a chance to honour his culture. And here they were – Niten distributing drinks among the guests and Aoife just standing there admiring the view.
“You know, if one didn’t know better, I’d say you are fancying him,” commented Scatty drily. Her twin had snuck her way next to the sake table, leaving her bandmates to play the next song without her.
“I think this is the worst joke you have ever made, Scatty,” answered Aoife just as drily, but an easy smile adorned her lips.
Scathach smirked: “I can assure you, there have been far worse, my dear sister.” She supported herself on the sturdy table and gave out a loud sigh, her head dipped back. “Finally, I can relax, the speech is behind me.”
Aoife understood her more than she let on. The day had been long, and she was exhausted because of the celebrations, emotions and a hundred other things. Just a few more traditions and she could retire with Niten. Now, that was a good thought. Suddenly, she had a very good reason to not look tired. She laughed, abruptly energized: “Was it that bad?”
“How do people do this every day?” questioned her sister with a shudder.
Aoife shook her head: “I don’t know.”
For a moment they didn’t say anything, letting the silence sit. As often as they argued, they would also just wordlessly enjoy each other’s company. Aoife divided her attention between Niten and Scathach. Her mind drifted from one to the other, recalling their long past. Also, the information she learned from the bond earlier about Niten’s experience was troubling her, but she agreed it was best kept for later. Maybe tomorrow or next week.
Her grandmother and uncle were dancing; Dora was explaining something to her brother to which he answered animatedly. The Flamel couple, who somehow survived, joined them on the dance floor, looking more like living beings than the last time Aoife had seen them before sacrificing herself. Billy, Machiavelli and Black Hawk were occupying one of the smaller tables and drinking their fill, mostly Billy, though. The other two were more eating. Sophie and Marethyu seemed to have an intense conversation as his infamous hook went up and down five times in three seconds. Aoife saw Palamedes and William Shakespeare sneak out from the back. She didn’t want to know what they were doing. Tsagaglalal sat in the quiet, dark corner all by herself. Did she remember Abraham? Aoife wished she’d have a way to bring the old man back somehow. The woman had saved Niten and for that there was nothing she wouldn’t do for the immortal.
“Ahem, I meant it, you know,” brought Scatty’s remark her out of her slumber. Although she would never admit it, she did jump a little inside. Her sister watched her intently.
“I know, a dheirfiúr.” Now she knew.
Scathach grabbed an apple from the dining table, and swirled it in her hands, clearly masking her awkwardness approaching the subject. As the imminent emotions had abandoned the twins, they had a hard time bringing themselves to admit their feelings. “I was on my way…” An image of Scatty with her hair uncombed, a wild look in her eyes while rushing through her dōjō gathering weapons and thrusting them uncaringly into a big bag, barely noticing the open door, came to her.
“That’s where you were off to when I came to see you!” she shouted as the dots began to connect in her mind.
Scathach pushed herself up to turn her full body to her sister, a little offended Aoife had thought she’d let her rot in that prison with no way out. “Of course, I thought you were still trapped with Coatlicue,” she defended.
Even before Aoife had apologized Scatty would have risked her life and, worse, her freedom to try and retrieve her from that endless prison. All this time, she’d convinced herself her sister didn’t care if she lived or died. Thousand years was enough time for the doubt to settle into something more permanent like truth. Finally seeing how utterly wrong she had been she wanted to laugh and she wanted to cry.
It was time to confess. “You don’t have to feel too bad because I doubted you cared for me, too. Everyone said you hated me. I believed them.”
Scatty grimaced: “At first, but hardly forever. I can only love you forever.” She patted her sister’s forearm before throwing an arm around her shoulders, pulling them side-by-side; Aoife letting her hand rest on the other’s back. The action threatened to bring forward a new set of tears for it was mirror into the past when the sisters had greeted one another in such way after a victorious fight, physically reassuring themselves the other was alive.
“I love you, too.”
Scatty offered her a playful smirk, and bit into her apple.
“If I may,” came a gentle voice behind her sister. When she moved, letting go of Aoife, she revealed a petite Frenchwoman wearing a beautiful soft pink gown.
“Joan!” exclaimed Scatty happily, jumping to her side. Aoife didn’t even have time to prepare for the surge of jealousy that rushed through her, her easy smile dropping, her body tensing. It was going so well. She had her sister by her side again, all the apologies were said, and it was time to enjoy their time together. Now, she had been abandoned again in favour of some humani.
Scathach held the immortal in a half hug, it was almost identical pose to theirs. The vampire knew it was idiotic to be so focused on an embrace, but she couldn’t help it. Not so soon after she had celebrated that small victory. The immortal humani are always ruining it. Joan smiled at Scatty before offering her hand to Aoife: “We haven’t been formally introduced; my name is Joan.”
“No, we haven’t been,” stated the disturbed bride as a matter of fact, looking down at the hand, not accepting it right away, pointedly ignoring Scatty’s scowl at her behaviour. “It hardly needs to be said, but I’m Aoife.” What were they even doing here? It couldn’t have been her uncle who invited them. He hated the count. After a few seconds, she realized the Frenchwoman wasn’t going to back down and reached for her hand.
Her sister seemed satisfied with that and got excited. She turned to Aoife and said: “I need to tell you about our adventures.” In Aoife’s eyes, it should have been the opposite. Scatty should have told Joan about their adventures. It took everything in her not to roll her eyes in annoyance.
“Mhm.” The bride pursed her lips.
The Frenchwoman had the gall to chuckle. It didn’t matter if it wasn’t at Aoife, she felt like it was. Joan commented: “I’d of course known you have a twin but seeing you two together today has been quite jarring. And your mannerism, despite your denial, Scatty, are similar.”
“Growing up we were always together. So, everyone was quite used to it,” defended Aoife, her voice like a knife, cutting through the friends’ joy. It brought her satisfaction for exactly one second, before registering Scatty’s downturned mouth, this time actually directed at her. She crossed her arms, a familiar defence mechanism, and squinted her eyes at Joan. “I heard my sister gave you blood.”
“Yes, saved my life,” answered the woman politely with a half-forced smile, not wanting to turn this already taut conversation into a full stand-off.
The older redhead gave a short mocking laugh. “I was surprised you took saving the humani that seriously,” bit Aoife, letting the poisonous tone out, raising one eyebrow in question.
Her sister, having reached her limit, revealed her vampire teeth and stepped in front of Joan. Like Aoife was going to do something to her. As much as their carefree converse had unsettled her, she’d never touch someone her sister considered a friend. Scathach corrected her: “Saving my friend, Aoife.” She wore her usual expression when she challenged someone to do something about it. Her eyes were watchful of Aoife’s every move and her body had knowingly or unknowingly taken a fighting stance.
That was the point where old Aoife would have snapped and thrown hurtful claims to Scatty’s face, and she certainly felt betrayed enough to do so now. Her mouth was half-way open, and brain was conjuring up nasty remarks on how she could open a “Scathach’s hospital” for every dying human if she had already contaminated her blood, which was not at all how contamination worked. She could feel anger rising in her. As her fingers clenching into a fist, the ring on her finger reminded her of where they stood. The background noise became more prominent in her ears as she realized the guests to her and Niten’s wedding were all around them and most importantly they were so close to fucking up not only their already fragile relationship but also potentially injuring their closest friends in the process. All because Aoife couldn’t manage her ugly emotions, the dark shadow swimming behind her consciousness waiting for the vampire to let it back in. She had sworn to leave it behind, and she was going to do so! She would not let it ruin everything for her again! Aoife took a deep breath as Niten had taught her and counted to ten. She got to three before abandoning it, but it did its job, nonetheless.
They were butting head over yet another human after just making up!
Yes, Aoife didn’t like that this human was made immortal by her sister’s blood. Yes, she felt insanely jealous witnessing them touchy and close after she had been deprived of that for centuries and only regained it last year. Yes, she would have preferred the Frenchwoman had not existed. But she did and Scathach seemed to like her. That was something Aoife could not change. Could only accept. The Ancients knew that her sister was just as pigheaded as she was!
Were the stings their friendship made to Aoife’s soul more important than maintaining relationship with Scatty? No, absolutely not!
Then instead of lashing out, Aoife unclenched her fists, relaxed her shoulders and chose to study the one person she’d missed desperately, her body on purpose not mirroring Scatty’s, remaining passive. Behind her sister’s headstrong gaze, she saw the same hurt she’d blatantly ignored after Cuchulain’s death and had kept on yelling. Scatty didn’t want to fight with her. And Aoife didn’t want to lose her again.
Through the bond a calming feeling reached her and before long an important notion finally broke through her stubborn exterior that put this whole conversation into a new light after she’d replayed the reason why she’d gotten so angry in her mind. When Sophie and Niten had informed her that Scatty had lent her blood to a humani, she’d felt like her sister had truly abandoned her in favour of humanity. In favour of a new sister. The one person who should have been on her side was donating her blood to some humani while she fought alone, not counting Niten. But it was never about Aoife, was it? Her sister didn’t do it to get back at her or because she was betraying her or replacing her with Joan in any way. It was Scatty deciding to save someone she cared about. She had no reason to feel excluded because it wasn’t her decision to make. Scathach didn’t need to justify her actions to her.
The exact same thing had happened with Niten. The vampire got frustrated over him putting his life on the line for someone she didn’t think was worth it. In the end, her own wish to protect him by basically controlling him and her inability to convey why she got so worked up drove him away. After coming to terms that Niten was free to do as he wished, their relationship had flourished.
It didn’t matter who Scatty was saving as long as she thought the person was worth saving. Aoife could only accept it and be happy Scathach’s efforts were not in vain.
Another understanding knocked on her conscious as she saw parallels between Joan and Niten. Scatty had congratulated her on her marriage, helped her prepare the crystal and everything, but Aoife had only scowled at Scathach’s human friend. Someone’s voice that sounded awfully like her husband’s said there could be more than one tolerable human.
She recalled the happy glee her sister had had when she had suggested sharing stories. Fuck! Scatty wanted to include her by sharing stories, not exclude. She had been too blind to see and too quick to act on her vicious feelings. Embarrassment flushed through her.
She couldn’t lie to herself; she was still coming to terms with that this small human was carrying his sister’s blood, an act considered a blasphemy amongst her race not that anyone besides Scatty had ever tried it, and hadn’t completely let go of her jealousy at seeing Scatty and Joan of Arc so close, especially if these two decided to show it off in front of her. However, her time with Niten had taught her valuable lessons in managing and expressing her emotions. And above all, she really didn’t want to spend another thousand hears without her sister just because Scathach had saved a friend and Aoife couldn’t accept it.
They had let already one human separate them; she would not let there be another one.
So, with a long inner sigh, looking at Joan over her sister’s shoulder, she forced out as sincerely as she could: “Then…I am glad you survived.” Scathach’s eyes went wide at the reasonable solution, which made Aoife roll her own eyes and shook her head. Scatty’s body relaxed, and she took a step back.
Her gaze flew over Aoife as if seeing her first time in years again. “Niten really put something in there, a dheirfiúr,” she commented with an amazement while poking the bride’s head. Aoife slapped her hand away with a hiss but was secretly happy about the smile that adorned her sister’s face once again.
Joan chuckled and stepped next to them, having wisely chosen to stay behind Scatty before. “Aoife, congratulations on your marriage. Having found the right person to spend the rest of your life with is one of the greatest joys of life.”
Aoife automatically sought out Niten, who was already watching her across the room. The swordsman offered her a wide smile and the cord that connected them tugged at her heart, flooding her with adoration. “Yes, it is,” she found herself agreeing with Joan of Arc, making Aoife a little less thorny to the woman. This day really was full of surprises.
Then something unexpected occurred, the Frenchwoman stepped in front of Aoife with determination and audacity the bride couldn’t help but to admire and stated: “I am not here to ruin your day, and I will never take your place as her twin.” How did she know that? Scathach looked as shocked as Aoife. She didn’t know how to feel about the woman reading her feelings like a book. “But I will not give up being her friend either to please you.” A gentle grin returned on Joan’s face. “Now, as that is out of the way, I am truly happy for you. And I wish to get to know my best friend’s sister better. I would like to be your friend or at least associate, I understand if you don’t wish to share bedtime stories just yet.”
Thankfully Joan wasn’t as stupid as Aoife had feared her to be and had realized that the bride would never be as accepting as her sister. It was a hurdle enough not to snap at the Frenchwoman. She’d better not push her buttons more, but Aoife could remain civilized, although there were many instances the hands-on solution was proven to be more effective. At a mention of a good fight, her soul yearned for it. She had done too much talking and emotions today and wanted something to balance it out, lest someone began thinking she’d gone soft.
“I am not going to replace her…I am not going to replace you…” stammered the Shadow, horrified at the suggestion, her gaze shifting between them. “What are you even talking about?”
Aoife was about to deny or brush off the fear that unfortunately was true, but the many confessions with Niten ringed through her mind. Every last one of them was better said out loud than left rotting in her brain, turning it into a fiasco of lies that she couldn’t help but believe. In short, she should express her fears in words. She murmured: “Last few centuries seemed so.”
“Oh, really, then what do you call running around with Niten?” sneered Scatty before wrapping her arms tightly around Aoife, confirming she was idiot for thinking that in their mother tongue, and then just held her sister.
For a brief second, they were children again, wondering in the woods all day, and running back home in the evening. The familiar smell of Scatty bringing up memories of a land and time long gone, alive only in their heads. A past where prejudice against those born into the Next Generation flourished, and they had only each other for support. A past where no one challenged her spot as Scathach companion. A past where the thought of marrying someone, let alone a humani, seemed unthinkable. A past where there were only twins and their adventures with its ups and downs, but it was undoubtedly theirs.
When Scathach released her, there were unshed tears in her eyes, and she didn’t hide them. Because that was her baby sister and she had been so close to losing her again. Scatty swallowed a lump in her throat and brushed a thumb on Aoife’s cheek to clean one unruly tear that had gotten loose. The bond that had snapped on a bloody battlefield thousand years ago had finally begun to heal.
The bride was barely out of one set of arms before being embraced by other. “I would concur that our relationship was a little different from yours,” came a honeyed voice behind Aoife, and a strong arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her into a chaste kiss.
“Oh, please, get a fucking room! Actually, don’t get a room. I don’t want to see that again,” complained Scatty, looking at everywhere but the couple. “Joan, you should have seen the horrors I had to witness when I had to call them from the changing room before the wedding. My poor eyes will never recover. And I’m the one bringing home humans! You are a hypocrite, Aoife.” Aoife of the Shadows stuck out her tongue at her sister after she had finished using it for other purposes.
“Mon cœur,” said Francis Saint-Germain to his wife, approaching the group. The bride threw a barely disguised displeased look at the suave man. He kissed his wife on the cheek and then, to Aoife’s utter surprise, raised Scatty’s hand to his lips to give it a kiss. The nonchalance at the action from Scathach told her it wasn’t the first time the Frenchman had done this, but she still blushed. Aoife shook her head. She had hoped not to collide with the French couple at all during the venue, and now they were having a conversation. She leaned into Niten’s side to get the strength to keep herself from saying anything she would regret later. She really needed to get a medal for how rationally she’d reacted tonight.
The count turned to the main couple and had enough self-preservation not to try the same with Aoife. Saint-Germain grabbed a full champagne glass from a nearby table and toasted: “To the bride and groom. I already have had the pleasure with the bride, but I don’t imagine we have ever met, swordman.”
“I would remember it,” came a short answer from Niten, who had yet to remove his hand from his wife’s back. The bond confirmed her suspicion that the Japanese didn’t like or at least was cautious about the mysterious count. His perception of the man was based on things he had heard, mainly from Aoife. And that meeting with the count wasn’t exactly pleasantly remembered by the woman.
Before the whole conversation could get any more awkward, her uncle found his way to them. “Where is my favourite couple?” He pulled Aoife into a third hug in a short time without scanning who they were speaking to. “Now, who do we have here…” His voice dropped when saw the count. Saint-Germain smiled and waved at him as if they were old friends. Although there was quite a bit of sneakiness to the grin. The Firelord gritted his teeth, and both vampires knew instantly this would end badly.
“Thief.”
The count did a small bow, never taking his eyes off the big man. Aoife couldn’t decide if it was done mockingly or not. “I would prefer the Master of Fire, but to each their own. After all…”
“You are a master of nothing, you…” cut the Elder him off. The curses that flew out of Prometheus’s mouth in the language only her and Scatty understood were enough to put Aoife in an attentive mood. She laid her hand on the handle of her small knife, stashed away in a secret pocket of her jacket blouse. She felt Niten behind her tense as well.
If this escalated, if Prometheus decided to unleash his full power, then no one here would be safe. By the looks of him, it wouldn’t take long for the Elder to lose it. The count, the idiot, didn’t do anything but add fuel to the fire. Her uncle’s dark red aura was almost entirely covering his bright orange suit, and his face was turning into a tomato.
“You’ll give it back or I will take it by force, thief!” roared her uncle drawing attention not only the closest of the guests, but his voice was heard at the back of the tent. Some were beginning to search for other seating spots.
“You didn’t catch me the first time, Firelord,” reminded the Frenchman with a smirk.
“You think you can overplay me the second time, boy?”
“I know I can.”
Joan did her best to try and prevent the imminent fight. She tugged on the man’s arm. “Francis!”
“Uncle,” shouted Aoife stepping closer to the men, but her effort was overshadowed by Niten’s involvement. He put himself between the men, pushing his wife back gently.
“Gentlemen,” his general’s voice piercing through the yelling with a practiced precision. The men were startled at the sudden effective interference. A quick look at the both of them to be sure the Japanese had their attention before continuing. “We all understand you have a question of ownership to solve.” Prometheus would have very much liked to argue about that the ownership of Fire was never in question, but what to do with the vile thief was the agenda item but chose to keep quiet.
“However, this is our wedding. A wedding you yourself helped to create, Prometheus,” Niten gazed at the man, who was beginning to look ashamed, “and you,” his gaze landed at the Frenchman, who would get a good scolding from his wife afterwards by the looks of it, “Count Saint-Germain, were invited in good faith by the Shadow if I’m not mistaken.” Scatty blushed. That explained everything! Of course, her sister was the one to invite them. “I will welcome everyone who wishes to participate but I will also expect our guests to behave themselves. You have a duty to remain civilized, or I will enforce my right to eject you from our wedding. Is that understood?”
By the end of his little speech, Niten’s voice had gotten a little bit louder, and his tone sharper, all remains of politeness gone. The frustration at the situation seeping through the bond. Niten really just threatened to throw out the immortal Elder who was older than the Earth. Not only that, but he held their gazes as long as the guests sheepishly nodded. No one had spoken to her uncle in such a manner and lived. Besides their family. But Niten was now a part of this family and Prometheus’s friend. Still, Aoife’s imagination was going wild at all the things she was going to do to this man. Would it be too scandalous if she…
Niten took an audible breath. Whether from her thoughts that were somehow reflected in his mind or from knowingly calming himself down, she did not know. “Then you are welcome to stay as long as you remember – you will not solve your problems here. If after that you need a judge or simply another set of eyes, I will be happy to help you. But not here.”
Prometheus lowered his head. “Apologies, my friend, Aoife.”
“Sorry,” murmured Francis.
“I’m proud of you on how you handled Joan,” said Niten after they had withdrawn to one of the shaded corners of the tent. The ill-fated meeting fell apart quite soon after with everyone leaving with something to ponder about.
Aoife asked, turning to her husband: “You knew?”
“Your feelings were loud. I kept an eye on you three,” the man assured, stroking her back.
“I almost ruined it again,” sighed the vampire, thinking how long it would be when she snapped again.
Niten smiled. “But you didn’t.”
“The next time…”
“The next time you will approach it as you did today,” didn’t let the swordsman the self-doubt grow. He pulled her close and kissed her forehead. He had more faith in her than Aoife did, but his sureness was a balm for her restless soul. “I wouldn’t have let you ruin it, you know. But I didn’t intervene because you needed to do this on your own.” She felt the knot in her stomach unravel.
This man was a blessing to her. “Thank you.”
At the sound of wooden floor creaking the couple looked up. Sophie Newman waited a few steps away next to an empty table. The owners of said table were long gone or were dancing to Scatty’s band, the redhead leading it. The girl was wearing a light blue short-sleeved dress, and her blond hair was pulled back with a matching ribbon. Her appearance hadn’t changed from when the vampire had last seen her, however maturity and heaviness lingered in her gaze that wasn’t there when…Aoife kidnapped her. In the long time, seven hundred years to be exact, she’d spent in the past with Scatty and the others she’d grown up even if her body remained the same. It weighted on the vampire’s heart because during their short acquaintance she had begun to care for the girl, to see herself in her. She had witnessed Sophie learning her brother was gone, although, at first, it wasn’t the boy’s fault. The betrayal, the loss, the anger, the confusion, the hurt, the emptiness, it was all there. These thoughts had run through Aoife’s head when she’d peeked at the retreating redhead for the last time after the bloody battle. Even she had to admit, she had a bit of a soft spot for the blonde.
“I won’t disturb you for long. I just wanted to say my congratulations,” said Sophie closing the gap, but still staying at a respectful distance.
And then Aoife did something that surprised even herself. She hugged the girl. Sophie went rigid but then returned the embrace with a gentle smile. When the vampire pulled back, she gripped Sophie’s shoulders and said: “Thank you for finding my sister and giving her my message.”
“Oh, it was more of running into each other and after…we had a long time to catch up,” explained the human, sadness pouring out of her as she recalled her memories of the fight on Danu Talis.
The redhead said with deep sorrow because she knew how she felt: “I am sorry for what happened to Josh.”
Sophie blinked at least five times before answering to keep tears at bay. “It was his own choice. It was always going to happen this way. It was him who put many things in motion for humanity to continue. If he had stayed with me, with us, all of this,” she gestured vaguely at the venue, “wouldn’t have existed.” She was justifying Josh’s decision with a determination Aoife hadn’t expected.
“This doesn’t mean you can’t be upset you lost your twin,” argued the bride in an almost sisterly tone. She had never been good at recognising that the greater good overweighted personal loss. The general welfare would never come before Scatty. Or Niten. Or Prometheus. Or Dora. “No matter how justified or reasonable it was to Josh.”
Then Sophie dropped a bomb on them. She spit out, her voice lacing with venom directed not at Aoife or Josh but to someone the bride couldn’t yet identify: “He isn’t even my twin.”
“What?!” exclaimed Aoife, her hands slipping from the younger’s shoulders as she stared at the blonde in disbelief.
Niten stepped closer, having given them space before, and asked calmly: “What do you mean, Sophie?” He put his hand on the girl’s right arm.
“Our parents weren’t our parents.”
“That much we know.” Scathach had given them a quick overview of what went down in the past, but she had left out the part where the Twins of the Legend were not twins. If she even knew.
Sophie swallowed looking past them at the wall of the tent to collect herself. She breathed in and forced her lips to stop trembling. “They collected us from different parts of the world. Across different times. We were just two kids who looked similar.” It seemed she wished to elaborate a bit more but couldn’t bring herself to do it. She shook her head. “So, Josh isn’t my biological twin.”
“Oh, that is vile,” commented Aoife without thought. Even as a thought this lie was unimaginable. This was cruel beyond her understanding and as Aoife of the Shadow she was something of an expert on the matter. She had witnessed cruelty in many forms, sometimes even inflicted by herself, but to falsify the children’s entire lives demanded a streak brutality even she was not capable of. “If anyone said that about me and Scatty. I would…my whole life would be a lie.” She turned her attention to the person it happened to. “I am so sorry, Sophie.” The fluttering from the bond indicated Niten was also feeling deep sorrow for girl. His hand was stroking the younger’s arm in a feeble attempt at consoling the girl.
“I have come to terms with it.” This weak statement elaborated only that Sophie was still very affected by this and had not come to terms with it.
No one should come to terms with such a thing!
Aoife would not let Sophie fall into depression and acceptance that when she felt grief it was somehow wrong or she was selfish. She, both of them had been manipulated their entire lives, she had every right to be angry and miss her brother!
A flash of fury pierced Aoife. If those persons calling themselves their parents would still be alive, Aoife would ensure they wouldn’t be much longer! She gritted her teeth. “Josh is your twin whether you are related or not! You weren’t related when you were growing up and you loved him as your brother. The blood you didn’t share didn’t dictate that; your shared memories, your fondness for each other dictated that! Blood can’t make someone love you and can’t make you stop loving somebody. Did you prick your finger and saw that your blood had the same hue and decided that now that this has been confirmed you can accept him as your brother or did you just love that mess of a boy because of himself?”
Yet again, the vampire recognized herself in Sophie. Parents, if she could call them that, not caring about the twins, hurting them with words, and leaving them to fend for themselves, relying only on each other. She didn’t know which was worse, parents who made very clear they were ashamed of their children from an early age, but didn’t lie to their face about who they were or parents who offered a good, loving life and family for the first fifteen years of their lives only to reveal later it was all a lie and they were not family at all.
She shared blood with her parents and brother, but were they at her wedding? No. It somehow still stung no matter how many times Aoife had convinced herself and others she didn’t care about that. She was a living proof that blood didn’t dictate love.
Coming to that conclusion, it cleared a doubt she had had earlier.
“To answer myself, this girl will always be my sister.” She pointed at a happy Scatty on a stage, having just finished a successful solo she was bowing to the twenty people who had actually listened and were now applauding, Flamels at the front. Scathach was glowing and Aoife couldn’t be prouder. “Even if someone told me the same news, I would be crushed, I would be devastated, and then, after a long time of doubting and thinking and a hundred other things and years later,” the redhead had no illusions about dealing with the news of such magnitude calmly or quickly, “I would come to the same conclusion – I will never stop loving and protecting Scathach, my twin.”
“You have every right to feel everything, even doubt, but if you decide to regard Josh as your brother, then no one can take it from you. It’s not their fucking business! Not even your not parents. It’s not selfish to miss him, to wish it wouldn’t have to be this way – it’s given because you are and will remain siblings.”
At the end of her speech, Sophie let the quiet tears flow, but now they represented the acceptance of her feelings, and hopefully healing. “Thanks, Aoife. I needed to hear that,” said the younger and embraced Aoife tightly, hiding her face in her neck, drawing strength from the redhead. She pulled back, looking slightly better, although the mascara was ruined, and said: “Scatty told me something similar. I was unfortunately too occupied with my own loss for those words to have truly reached me. I suppose I should thank her.” A glance from all three of them at the stage, where a new rock song was about to begin.
“You do that.”
“You do speak sense some of the time, Aoife of the Shadows,” commented an audacious voice.
“Look who it is,” answered Aoife just as audaciously.
A man with a hook for a hand approached them with a bold step. He stopped just behind Sophie, who in turn looked at the man. A silent understanding passed between them before he leaned down to kiss her forehead.
“Josh,” whispered Sophie.
The bride ordered Marethyu or Josh: “You better take care of her.”
The Golden twin raised his eyes. “I will always watch over her.”
“I am actually older,” interrupted Sophie with pretended annoyance and threw Aoife a knowing glance.
This statement was useless in the light of new revelations, but Aoife was glad there was no hesitation or doubt about saying that. Just a tiny glimpse of that familiar spark which had surprised the redhead the first time when Sophie had awoken aboard Niten’s boat appeared in her eyes. But that was enough to confirm that the girl had enough strength and will to put the broken pieces of herself back together.
All that remained was playful banter between siblings. Just as it was in the beginning, it was in the end. Things often had a funny way of coming full circle.
Aoife smiled. “Take care of him.”
“He is my brother, how can I not?” replayed Sophie, hooking her arm under her twin’s and lead him towards the exit. The hooded man went willing but nodded at the bride and groom for the last time. “Now, how many times have I told you to change the hook? One day you will scratch your eye out.”
Did the world need Marethyu anymore or could he, too, embrace the boy, young man he once had been? After all, humanity had been saved. His work was done. Not everything could go back to the way it was, of course, too much had happened, too much had been seen, too much had been revealed, but perhaps with the spring coming another set of twins could reunite and build a new life together free from deception, surrounded by the family they had chosen.
Aoife was hopeful as she watched their retreating figures disappear into the chilly January night, still chatting, even laughing. The happiness fitted them well, their faces glowing with the familiarity of it, forgotten for hundreds of years. When was the last time these two had shared a laugh?
Perhaps ten thousand years ago.
Niten put his arm around Aoife’s waist, making her realize she’d been staring at the place she’d seen them last for quite a few moments.
“Are we sure Osiris and Isis are dead? Because I would be delighted to have a long conversation with them. I’ll even be generous and let them use their weapons, so I wouldn’t feel bad about gouging their eyes out,” gritted Aoife her vampire teeth.
“Positive,” answered Niten, but the tightening of his grip on her side and the bond told her this anger was shared.
Aoife cursed.
“Well, I do have two wishes left, I could bring them to life and then…”
“Aoife, no.”
Before they could officially escape, Machiavelli of all people stepped into her way in hopes of acquiring the crystal that Scatty had hidden somewhere after the ceremony. After spending most of her time before the wedding tracking the damned thing down and calling in favours from beings that would scar half the humanity if let loose in this Shadowrealm, Aoife was justly first against the idea of giving it to the Italian even with the right price. She and Niten both had two wishes left as her haggling that it was technically one didn’t work on the stubborn crystal. Only after the third offer and when the woman was getting annoyed, did the man slowing began changing her mind. She would loan it to the man to add it to his collection and in return she would get a favour and could use the crystal whenever she wanted. It was still hers. Having a man who had the biggest files on every immortal at her beck and call was convenient. The vampire hadn’t planned on using the crystal soon anyway. It being stored at the Italian’s manor or underground dungeon or wherever he held his things was much better than having to worry about it herself. They parted ways with both satisfied with the outcome.
This magnificent day was begging to end. Some guests were finding excuses to leave wishing the couple happiness and apologizing for not waiting until the final dance and grand exit; the remaining people clearly drunk or on their way there; the cake was gone as was much of the food, the alcohol was still coming; Prometheus was sharing stories from his younger days and the couples were more interested in each other than the bride and groom. They didn’t mind it.
Aoife herself was having a hard time keeping it together and saying goodbye to those who were going, pretending she didn’t feel Niten’s hot palm against her back driving her crazy. He had begun to draw circles on her unfortunately now clothed back. A soft touch, then a firm stroke and repeat. The amusement from the bond told the vampire just how intentional it was. Not that she needed the confirmation much after she caught her husband’s cheeky smirk.
“Will you stop it?” she hissed after she had ended the last of the goodbyes, at least for now.
Niten cackled: “I have no idea what you are talking about, my love.” The smile on his face was unusually silly which brought her attention to the blush of his cheeks and the glassiness of his eyes. Her dear husband had had a little too much sake it seemed. The Elders and those born into the Next Generation had a stronger resistance to alcohol and it took a considerable amount of it for them to get truly drunk, so Aoife was barely feeling anything.
“How much sake did you drink?” inquired the woman in Japanese, brining her mouth next to Niten’s red ear. How did she not notice before?
Niten hiccupped: “Not that much, my wife.” His other hand followed his right one onto her back, pulling Aoife flush against him, an adorable sappy look on his usually guarded face. “I am just so happy.” The man didn’t even seem to think about the audience before leaning down.
The kiss was much more heated than was publicly appropriate. His tongue tasted her mouth, sliding slowly beneath hers. Strong hands roamed her back, one sneaking up to her neck to tilt her head so he could devour her mouth even deeper, drawing out a breathy moan that Aoife fortunately was able to quiet enough. A hot coil began to wind in her stomach at the swirl of his tongue that reminded her of all the times he had tasted her in another place, bringing her unimaginable pleasure. Fuck! She needed her husband now! They had spent too much time catering to everyone else tonight and she was starving for the one person this entire celebration was about. She slid her hands down his back and slipped them beneath his suit jacket and then under the waistband of his dress pants to pull out his shirt so she could finally touch his naked skin…
A nearby crashing of glasses brought Aoife out of their heated moment. Her eyes opened wide in shock. They were really about to jump each other in the middle of the venue. The vampire had always been ready to do all sorts of things, but she’d die before she’d let anyone else see Niten naked. That was for her to enjoy.
The woman broke the intimate moment by turning her head to the side before they really did something they both regretted later. This, however, didn’t stop the ever-creative Japanese who began peppering kisses down her throat, tongue trailing her hot skin, his hands kneading her back. He rolled his hips directly into her centre and she felt his lower half becoming a little too interested in this developing further. The vampire put her hands on his chest and forced herself to step away just as her husband was about to suck a mark onto her neck. The surprised whine that escaped the man was both cute and dangerous. For Aoife’s self-control. He looked so crushed and confused as to why his love was denying him that Aoife couldn’t help but soothe the hurt with her palm on his face.
The fact that the bond didn’t play any tricks on them as before escaped both of them.
She manoeuvred him to sit on a nearby chair, giving him space to calm down. Fortunately, the time was late, and nobody was giving them a second glance. The staff was busy preparing the venue for their last dance for which Niten had to at least be able to dance.
She poured him a drink and placed it in front of him. “Drink some water.”
“I am not that drunk, Aoife,” vowed Niten although some of his slurred words contradicted that. The vampire shook her head at the stubborn man. “Just a little tipsy.” He tried to stand but was pushed back to sit by the redhead after he almost stumbled to the ground. “Alright, more than a little.”
“We still have to dance,” reminded the amused woman, leaning onto the table, eyes gleaming with love for Niten, who finished the glass under the watchful eye of his wife.
“Who thought that having a dance at the end of the venue was a good idea? It seems a little inconvenient considering the state of everyone. Including the main couple,” he complained a while later, massaging his temples.
Aoife laughed while brushing his hair back to being almost presentable. “Speak for yourself, I am completely capable of dancing.” Being at the receiving end of Niten’s betrayed gaze, she gave him, this time, an innocent kiss on the cheek as a peace offering. “Just drink the water, my love.”
Half an hour later the dance floor was set, the last dance was announced, the singers were ready to begin. The only people missing were the married couple.
They couple in question had slipped away unnoticed to take one quick glance at San Francisco shimmering in the moonlight. Also to clear their heads (read: Niten’s head). The bay area was visible from the back of their venue tent, and the dark glimmering water reflected the lights from nearby houses, parks, boats and bridges. The night was calm besides the unbroken seagull calls. Niten was humming an age-old Japanese folk song, and Aoife listened the low voice, resting her head against the man’s shoulder. The earthy scent she strongly associated with Niten filled her lungs.
Surely, this was what mortals referred to as Heaven.
There was nothing better than this.
This simple feeling.
That she had fought tooth and nails to avoid, to forget, to burn. It seemed idiotic now. Loving this man didn’t make her weaker. It made her face the parts of herself she’d been too afraid to even peek at. He encouraged her to grow. Showed that acknowledging deep emotions didn’t equal fragility. Presented that there was bravery in forgiveness and strength in patience. That love was not a hurdle to overcome, it didn’t only tear apart siblings or play her into the enemies’ hands, but it was a beautiful feeling to nurture, guiding her back to her sister, and into the arms of her salvation.
This man taught her how to be the best version of herself.
Aoife hoped, he had at least learned something from her as well.
“Are you ready?” asked the man when the song had reached its end, the final notes barely a whisper.
“For what?”
“Everything,” smirked Niten, stepping towards the entrance and extended his hand to her, which was gladly accepted. “But for now, the last dance, for this night at least, I intend to ask you for a dance many times more.”
“You bet I am.” They both knew she was referring to more than just the dance.
The moon shone extra brightly that night when they reached Niten’s boat in Sausalito. They had an apartment in the city that was perhaps steadier, but the solitude found being on the water far away from the crowds and people, which both had had enough for one day, trumped a little ripple. Niten took the boat out to the bay, and they decided to stop somewhere between the Treasure Island and the Emeryville Marina Park. Aoife sat on the railing at the bow of the boat now rocking in one place, her feet inside, and admired the night sky. A soft smile on her lips that hadn’t dropped the entire way. It was winter, but just as in the wedding, Niten had put up a tiny bubble over the boat, so they could admire the views. Normally the woman didn’t care for the cold, but the man had insisted. It was their wedding night and for that reason the bubble also acted as an invisible barrier. Nobody could see inside and when other boats were getting too close, they automatically went around it. An inflatable mattress was strategically placed near, propped up on the railing. Aoife remembered having said something about the tiny boat bed Niten used to sleep in. A smirk adorned her face.
Barely audible footsteps neared her from the cabin. The bond’s hum reflected the pleasure of quietness they felt after being subjected to the magnificent celebration of their marriage. The only sounds now grazing Aoife’s ears were the waves crashing against the side of the boat and the night birds chirping. The lights of San Francisco burned brightly all around them, and the gentle wind ruffled her hair, free from embellishments. She was wearing her black trousers from her last outfit change, but a different, more comfortable blue blouse that didn’t drag against the street with every move. Reaching the boat and the safety of the bubble, both abandoned the weapons stashed inside their robes. The vampire wasn’t the one to stop and appreciate the simple moments often, but this one felt magical even to her. She turned towards the cabin to see Niten watching her silently, gracefully leaning against the doorframe, any signs of pervious drunkenness gone.
They were finally alone.
Aoife could spend her entire immortal life imagining and never come close picturing this moment. It was too perfect. Something out of a fairytale that the humans were so fond of telling their young ones. Her husband was not hiding the loving gaze directed at her. The boat rocked gently as neither of them wished to break the spell of the night. The vampire brushed her ring shining in the light with her thumb, her hand on the green railing. The unfamiliar feeling bringing her calmness after what seemed like being adrift on a stormy ocean most of her life.
The most important and the longest fight of her life was now over. She could rest.
She was home.
A spike of fondness hit her through the bond a second before she heard his words. “I found it, you know.” Niten’s soothing voice travelled thought the evening, complimenting it.
“Hmm?”
“The right green,” said the Japanese, supporting himself against the wall a few moments longer, and then pushing himself up to join her at the bow. He stopped in the middle deck, not coming closer. Aoife had no idea why he chose this moment to speak about the colour of the boat, but if Niten wanted to spend this entire night explaining the different greens to her, they would do so. It was weird as during the wedding, she couldn’t wait to get him alone to certify their union in an intimate way, but now she felt such an overwhelming love for the man that just being in his presence was enough. She could burrow her head in his chest, and he could talk about anything he wished. Perhaps the quietness of the atmosphere had an effect on her. They had all the time in the world.
“I was approaching it all wrong,” continued Niten, sounding frustrated. “I thought it was just green, that I needed to find the right shade, but that wasn’t it.” The dark brown eyes caught the green ones. His right hand rising to paint in the air with his index finger, tracing the contour of her right eye. Her husband looked at her like she was a piece of art he had spent his entire life studying. Aoife’s heart began beating quicker as the realization dawned on her. “I didn’t realize there were speckles of gold, of brown, of grey and so many more colours that I needed to add to find the perfect green.”
“You searched for the colour of my eyes,” concluded Aoife, breathlessly remembering her earlier assumption, a yearning part of her soul praying it would be true only to beat herself up after the man had explained its meaning. The tug of the bond confirmed her suspicions. A warm feeling from Niten spread first into her heart and then all over her body. “You talked about the nature it represented and whatnot.”
The bond hadn’t shown her every thought Niten had had towards her. The memories they witnessed consisted of fragments of their most important moments and even those were hard to comb through enough for them to make sense. So, this was a surprise to Aoife.
“Yes, I see it all in your eyes,” said the man with an affectionate chuckle. “I saw it the first time we met.” Suddenly, the swordsman changed into an artist in front of her. The moonlight and the surroundings forming a fitting stage for a master. “The ancientness I would witness in trees; the cleverness in animals; the will to live in plants. We, humans, rarely stop to think about others we share this Shadowrealm with. Even back then. You were as wild as the nature around us. Sarutahiko Ōkami come to life, reminding us to be mindful of our surroundings, to respect it.” He stepped in front of her and cupped her cheek, palm rough from centuries of sword wielding, but so very dear to Aoife. “Those eyes haunted me. You appeared in my dreams as if daring me to follow you. I would chase you through the woods, but I never even came close to catching up. It frustrated me to no end, so I began searching for the colour that captivated me so.”
Niten raised his second hand to her face, positioning himself directly in front of his wife, Aoife’s heart thrumming in her chest, her breath she didn’t need to take fragmentary. Her every cell attuned to him. “Do you know why it took me so long to realize it?” Maybe it was a rhetorical question, but she shook her head nonetheless, as much as the man’s grip allowed. “I never let myself look into your eyes for too long. I feared of what you might discover in mine.” How very similar to Aoife’s own thoughts that had kept her from reaching out to him all this time. How many times had she avoided his gaze after discovering with horror that she’d developed feelings for him? Niten took a deep breath and with the exhale expelled every fear previously chaining him. “At last, I allowed myself to study the colour to my heart’s content,” his thumbs stroked her cheeks, just below her eyes, “and discovered a variety of colours.”
The man’s goofy smile transported her back 400 years when Aoife had just unarmed the young Japanese for the first time. The warrior admiring the skills of who he saw as a deity in the form of a young girl, and the vampire snapping at the stupid man of why he was praising her swordsmanship in the middle of a battle, that she could easily kill him, and the idiot just saying it would be an honour. Her bitterness was definitely not related to the fact that she’d almost been beaten by a sixteen-year-old mortal. That was before she’d found out Scatty did lose to him. It made her feel a lot better.
Who knew that this young man would end up holding her entire heart?
“So, one could say – this entire time, I searched for you,” concluded Niten with a lump in his throat. “And my own courage to confess.”
Aoife surged up to kiss him. She couldn’t take much more of this. They were already married; he didn’t need to sweettalk anymore. Although, the vampire suspected it would only get worse from here on out. A rogue part of her lived for it.
Her hands gripped his shoulders, the fabric of the expensive suit wrinkled beneath her fingers, but she paid it no heed. Niten’s right palm had remained on her cheek, but left one slipped on her nape, squeezing it. Aoife moaned into his mouth, opening her lips to allow his tongue to glide in, her fingers slipping into his hair. Her backside was pressed against the railing, digging into her hips by the force of Niten’s desperation. The green railing depicting her eye colour. A colour that concluded hundreds of years’ worth of searching, experimenting, heartache and hope beyond hope. Just so he could hold onto a piece of her.
How did ever she deserve that man?
More than a hundred years she’d asked that question. She had answered with an argument that she, in fact, didn’t deserve Niten and used it to put herself down. Now, she took it as a challenge to work towards deserving him every day.
Just as Aoife had vowed it in her mind, the bond jerked blazingly. A strong whirlwind was beginning to rage inside of her, tearing down every last wall to make room for itself. And with it came pleasure that was not her own. She felt how her vampire teeth nipped at the man’s tongue and how it sent a series of hot flashes to his lower body. She experienced firsthand the delight of her hands gripping his dark strands, the light pain heightening everything. When before in the changing room, the second time they had lost themselves that was, the bond had chosen to open their minds to each other by showing them fragmented memories and kissing was intensified because of each other emotions, then this time it did nothing of the sort. They physically felt each other’s pleasure. Before dark skies their touches intertwined as their souls had during the ceremony.
The man pulled back enough to groan out: “I guess we discovered another one of the bond’s secrets.”
Aoife, who was not at all happy there being a distance between them, growled in a voice laced with desire: “You want to discover some more?”
“Oh, god, yes.”
Nimble fingers slid below the suit jacket to pull it from the man and toss it unceremoniously on the deck. Always so correctly clothing folding Niten didn’t bat an eye at the treatment and instead untied his tie for it to follow the jacket. The glint in his eyes single-minded as he used the opportunity to free his wife from her blue shirt, leaving her pale freckle-covered upper body bare. The warrior didn’t care for the human way of dressing, preferring the garments known to her from her childhood. While blending in, she still disregarded the usage of bras.
Niten inclined his head down to her neck to lay soft, worshiping kisses on the skin, some spots still reddish from his previous nibbing. His adoration burning through the bond to Aoife, who could only tilt her head backwards, over the water, hold onto his shoulders and let him have his way. A whimper was ripped from her when his teeth caught her skin between them. A sound that quite recently would have never left her mouth was now reserved for her husband’s ears. The pleasure her noises brought to Niten was a reward enough for her to never silence them again. They were a ballad for him in the quiet night. The loveliest song he had ever heard. The sounds he would never tire of hearing. The melody that would accompany him beyond death. Having those thoughts projected to the vampire in real time brought tears in her eyes, and painful cracks of love in her heart. How could she have ever thought that they could exist separately? How could she have ever been that cruel?
There was no world, no Shadowrealm in which their hearts would beat in a different rhythm.
Strong hands held her in a secure grip against the man; her naked breasts crushed between them and his fingers splayed between her heated skin and the cold metal of the railing. His body was warming her even more as his mouth did ungodly things to her, leading a series of tingles towards her lower body. Another moan wrecked with want left the woman, her hands tugging his hair to speed up the slow peppering Niten seemed to be content with. Subconsciously, she rubbed her thighs together to relieve some tension gathering there. The ever-attuned man or rather the man who experienced her emotions slipped his right leg between hers, forcing them apart. Before Aoife could curse, his thigh raised and began moving against the place she needed the relief the most. The vampire let out a string of curses and praises in her mother tongue as she took full advantage of his generosity and grinded her centre along his muscled thigh. His left hand wrapped itself more broadly over her back, his wedding ring a brand against her spine, so his right one could work its way to her stomach and then neglected breasts.
“Niten,” she called out breathlessly after a while, and felt a low laugh against her neck.
The wet trail of kisses marked with an occasional hickey adorned Aoife’s skin as Niten finally lifted his head. The woman didn’t miss the possessiveness that arose in the swordsman as his gaze glided over them. They would be gone by the morning, a curse of being a vampire with ever-healing skin, but for one night they would be a part of her. For the absolute horror of the woman, he halted the movements of his legs as well.
“Yes, my wife?” rasped the man, his blazing eyes still clocked onto her neck as if studying his masterpiece.
The redhead snapped, arousement written all over her face, hands clenching in his dark hair: “Are you going to kiss my neck the entire night?”
“A delicious thought. Are you doubting my ability to do so, my love?” teased the Japanese with honeyed voice before it changed. It lowered, tensed as his gaze turned single-minded as it bored into the woman’s. The look on him reminded her of all the times he had to hold the line against thousands of enemies alone and did so without faltering once. This was a man with only one goal. “Because I could spend an entire year on every inch of your neck and would still beg for more time.” His tone left no room for doubts. “But this will have to wait because tonight I will worship the first goddess I ever beheld before my eyes making every other one pale in comparison on the boat made in her image.”
Before Aoife could even begin to process his words, Niten had scooped her up, took a few steps back, kicked the awfully well-placed mattress down, revealing a blanket underneath, and lowered her carefully onto the makeshift bed. The man had thrown all the hesitation to the wind, his movements resolute. The woman decided that she quite liked this unreserved side of Niten as she gazed up at the man, the stars in the sky gathering over his head like a halo, and she thought it should be him who people bowed to, went to war for, because from that moment onwards, he was the only god she would willing worship.
The attentive gaze of a warrior took in the goddess laying before him. The short red spikes shining in the moonlight like fire that burned itself into his heart, the swollen lips coaxing him to bite them again, the neck that bore his marks made in a selfish attempt to appease the beast inside him, and those eyes…Those eyes that hid so much in them and not just the colours, but delight, pain, yearning, fear, happiness, horror, love and sadness. Eyes that he had spent his entire life stealing peeks at and never mustering up the courage to let his gaze linger. Eyes he had painted hundreds of paintings of and then either stacking them in a place she’d never look or just burning them when the cracking of his soul didn’t allow him to behold them for one more second. They turned to dust just as his dreams of her should have done.
As the seagulls announced their presence with loud calls the moment of stillness was broken. Niten untucked his shirt from his dress pants on which laid a wet spot. The realization brought Aoife out of her stupor and ignored the creeping blush on her cheeks. She shook her head and sat up. Her fingers itched to touch him, so she raised her left hand up. “Will you not let me help?”
The man caught her arm swiftly to lay one kiss upon the blue-grey ring there and the second one on her palm. “Anything my wife wishes.”
The claim would sound stupid, even naïve in most mouths, but Niten stated it like a fact. As if he couldn’t act in any other way. But was it truly that surprising when he could ask anything from her and she would see it done? The responsibility of that power both knew not to abuse.
Letting go of her hand, the Japanese kneeled in front of his wife, knees resting on the comfortable mattress, hands hanging uselessly on his sides. Now, he was the canvas for her exploration. The overwhelming surge of love coming from Niten made Aoife tremble as she reached for the hem of the shirt to undo the first button, her movements careful despite her earlier rush. Their breathing mingling as the man kneeled still as a figure made out of stone. She had been a fool to want to hurry through this – their first time as husband and wife. It was ironic as she’d never cared for those semantics before. It was just a few papers signed and having a party afterwards, the act itself didn’t actually differ. She sensed it differently now. Because of Niten. It felt almost sacred. Something pure she had to do right.
The vampire’s fingers found the second lowest button and her lips his neck. Niten took a sharp breath as he tilted his head backwards, his hands coming up to her elbows, not demanding anything, just holding onto her, grounding himself. Her tongue working downwards towards his collarbone. The flesh beneath her mouth was beginning to redden from the relentless nibbing and brought out a similar possessiveness in her as it had in the man. This man, this immortal, this god was hers! For a fraction Niten’s hold on her tightened as if he’d heard her thoughts. Probably had. Good. Aoife’s fingers had never once stopped and soon the offending garment was laying on the deck with the others.
It was only then, when she pulled back to gaze at the wrecked man. A straining bulge in his pants didn’t go unnoticed, along with the messy hair and bitemarks on his neck he looked absolutely delectable. The deep breaths he was taking, the widened pupils and a considerable amount of restrain Aoife detected from the bond told her he was close to snapping. His hands tightening on her arms, ready to pull her to him.
The woman smiled wickedly as she wished to see how far she could push him and leaned back to taste her husband. This time, she chose to focus on his chest. Every scar there recounted fought battles, narrow escapes, victories and losses. The bravery of this man for which Aoife loved him clearly visible in this form. The tentative lick on the long scar above his heart made him hiss, his palms moving from her elbows to her hair. The short hair was tickling her nose as she let her tongue explore him. When she reached the scar next to his bellybutton, the man cursed. The vampire smiled as her lips deliberately brushed the fabric above his cock.
“Aoife,” came a strained voice.
“It’s only fair, don’t you think?” called the woman mischievously, looking up through her eyelashes at him.
When the only response she got was another set of Japanese curses and tugging of her hair, she concluded that she’d had to try harder to break his ever-perfect composure. Aoife mouthed him through the pants for a few seconds, enjoying when a wet patch gradually appeared and a surge of unbearable lust pierced the bond. The cock twitched at her ministrations, and she felt herself getting wetter, her inner walls clenching. She closed her eyes at the sensation of Niten’s hot cock throbbing against her lips and forced herself not to slip her fingers into her pants to relieve some of the tension. His hands held onto the red spikes for the life of him, but did not tug them too harshly, just applied pressure on her scalp that Aoife secretly loved. Her own hands found his waistband, but before she could actually begin pulling the pants down, the world suddenly changed direction as a snarl filled the quiet boat.
Niten’s self-control had perished, he’d quickly grabbed Aoife’s forearms and pushed her carefully on her back before bracing himself above her. His features displaying the storm swirling inside of him – his eyes pitch black, lips puffy from Aoife’s kisses and from biting them himself, jaw set, his cock rock hard intentionally placed a few paces above her needy centre. The woman tried to rub herself against him, but he shifted his hips, denying them both the brief pleasure, driving them mad.
“I thought you’d have more restraint than this, my husband?” teased the vampire with the intention of railing him up even more, her voice breathy from arousal.
It seemed to work as Niten bit out: “My restraint has worn thin. By tonight and by four centuries by your side.” His right-hand fingers brushed over Aoife’s brows. “I have waited many lifetimes for it.”
“Well, then, what are you waiting for? I have been yours since our first battle.”
It was supposed be tempting, but it ended in plain truth the vampire hadn’t quite known before saying it out loud. Before she’d met the Japanese there had been some flings, one-night stands as humans would put it, and of course Cuchulain, after there had been no one. The redhead had put her lack of partners on the fact that she was done with anything that could lead to feelings after the fiasco with Scatty, but it was only half the truth. It seemed they both subconsciously somehow knew the moment they locked eyes the other one was special. In what way could only time tell.
The bond betraying how much the statement meant to her.
“Aoife,” said Niten, his voice quivering from emotions, his heart beating wildly beneath her palm she’d raised to his chest.
Then, slowly, both her hands worked their way into his dark strands and played with them for a few moments before gently guiding his mouth to hers and their bodies flush together so that not a single strand of air passed between them. Her centre was after a long teasing pressed his cock and Aoife was never the one to let good opportunities go. She rocked her hips upwards against this delicious heat, having the man pant into her mouth at the sudden pleasure that he really should have seen coming. This time he didn’t move away but embraced their ever-scorching need for each other by matching her rhythm, moaning when his clothed tip dragged against the wet fabric just the right way and he had to keep himself from coming by willpower alone. The two outer layers being completely ruined from their grinding. His solid body holding her to mattress like a protective layer from all the bad thoughts the world and she herself could come up with and replaced it with the utmost devotion flowing through the bond and the physical act itself. The Japanese whimpering above her was the single most arousing image Aoife had ever seen, this combined with the constant drag of his cock against her frustratingly still clothed clenching folds was carrying her dangerously close to the completion.
Swiftly as a practiced dance they removed their pants and underwear, although Aoife rumbled when they had to separate for it, and Niten laughing at her impatience, barely keeping his own need in check, feeling a familiar fire gathering in his lower body. The redhead stole a few quick pumps when his cock was freed from its confinements not being able to resist after a full day of wanting, her mouth watering. Her thumb caressed his slit just the way she’d learned would drive him crazy.
“Aoife, fuck!” cursed Niten, his eyes wide. “You need to stop.” He shoved her hand away from his angry red cock, twitching dangerously, white liquid gathering at the tip.
The woman, full knowing it could be the last straw, couldn’t help but to lean close and say: “You are lucky it was only my hand.” Then bit his earlobe. “My husband.” She purred that last bit possessively, letting it float to Niten through their connection on purpose.
The man didn’t move for a few seconds, didn’t even breath. The bond was filled with hundreds of years of learned restraint and a very persistent demand for letting go. For a moment the woman was ready to take the blame for instigating the breaking of his famous self-control. She’d even be proud of it. But then Niten hid his face into her neck, taking deep calming breaths. The immediate threat was averted as the man’s tense body relented a bit. Aoife gave him some time to gather himself and used this time to do the same. It would be a lie to say she wasn’t on the verge of coming herself.
The dark look he gave her after promised revenge and the anticipation of that made her body shudder.
“It was close, but the first time I’m coming tonight will be inside of you, my wife!”
He gave a quick kiss to her nose in final adoration before committing to his new role as her tormentor in the best way. He resumed his earlier plundering of her mouth, dragging his tongue across the sensitive parts and biting into her lips, shuddering when the woman answered in kind and let her sharp vampire teeth drag across his swollen lower lip. The man caught her wandering hands in a tight grip, so they wouldn’t have a chance to continue their mischievous ways and give him room for some payback. He put them above their heads and held them there with his right hand. It was a grip Aoife could have broken out of a thousand different ways but let him have his fun. Not to mention that being (or at least playing to be) in his mercy was adding to her lust in a way that was not healthy. Her inside walls were clenching just at the thought of it.
The moon and the lights on the boat illuminated Niten’s way when he finally turned his attention away from her mouth and trailed kisses from her neck to her breasts. He took the right hard nipple between his teeth, licking the tip fervently, drawing high pitched whines from the woman, who tried to buck her hips up to only to be stopped by a soft warning bite from the man. He replicated the actions on the left one, teasing her even more by circling her areola, taking his time. Aoife felt like she was on fire, her insides burned and all her body was taut from this mindless pleasure her wonderful husband was giving her. She loved it. The gentle rocking of the boat made this moment somehow even more right. She had nothing to fear, nothing to be ashamed of, nothing to hide. They were home.
Being done with her chest, he moved downwards, and because of that, he needed to let go of her hands. “Keep them there.”
His tone didn’t leave room for arguments, although Aoife entertained the idea of disobeying him just to see what he would do, but decided against it, needing him to get inside of her. Perhaps another time, night was still young. The approving look she received almost made her submission worthwhile, but a rebellious streak remained.
Niten settled between her open legs to push them further apart, supporting her left leg on his shoulder, giving him better view of her gaping centre. He dragged one maddening finger over her hole before circling it with the intention of driving her out of her mind, getting his hand wet. A surge of pleasure made her insides contract. His other hand found her waist and pushed her down when she tried to chase his finger.
“Niten!”
“You were lucky it was only one of my fingers, my dear,” responded the cheeky man, recalling her earlier teasing. “And it wasn’t even inside of you.”
They locked eyes, the woman looking horribly flustered, and with a grin Niten brought the finger drenched in Aoife’s taste to his mouth. At first, he licked the top of his finger carefully as one might to savour a favourite dessert, never breaking their eye contact. The woman could only follow the incident action with her gaze not quite believe what she was seeing. Their few previous lovemaking sessions were more shy, explorative of their bodies, trying different things to see what they liked and what not, but not once had she witnessed Niten being that performative. He had tasted her, of course, but this acting was unexpected. But then again, she had wanted to see how far she could push him. The only thing she could do was to take it. And it would be glorious as the man pushed his entire finger into his mouth and groaned like he had just tasted ambrosia.
“Sweet,” was the only comment she got as he dove down again. His hot mouth descended upon her, giving her tentative licks, and then gently pulling her clit between his teeth. Aoife didn’t even attempt to silence her loud moans, trashing against the tight grip he had on her. By some miracle, her hands were still where Niten had ordered them and it brought him no small amount of satisfaction and he rewarded her by stimulating her sensitive nub with licks and then turning his attention to her empty hole that was trying so hard to tempt him to fill it. And tempting it was. Much too tempting, but he resisted and trailed his tongue around the pulsing folds to finally ease it into the place that had haunted him for the entire day. Niten rubbed his tongue across her inner walls, bringing out all sorts of sounds from her. He slurped the never-ending taste of her as it was his only duty on this earth and fulfilled it with the precision he had all of his other tasks.
Aoife, on the other hand, was having a bit of a conundrum. She wished he’d hurry up and let her finish; she wished she’d stay in this moment forever; she wished he’d pull back and replace his tongue with something longer and thicker; and she wished he’d never let go of her. Her leg that was resting on his back was trying hard not to move too much in risk of hurting him, but the pleasure she received made it borderline impossible as he added a finger to his tongue. He didn’t push it all the way in, through the bond it was clear he wanted her to be as loose as possible before having anything inside of her.
The woman wailed at the moment when there was a rough lick of his tongue over her nub and the tip of his finger finally eased into her channel. She felt a considerable amount of liquid hit Niten’s face, which only made him harder and continue to pleasure her like a man possessed. When he was satisfied, she was ready enough, he thrust his entire finger into her, stilling it for a moment to let her adjust to the pressure.
“Fuck, Niten!”
“Are you alright?”
“I’ll be better when you move!” she snapped after a few moments of catching her breath, letting her body getting used to the intrusion.
The Japanese pulled his finger out only to push it back in, his tongue never ceasing its ministrations. When Niten knowingly curled his finger to brush it against the spot that made her see stars even with her eyes closed, even his hand on her waist couldn’t prevent her arching her back and violently pushing her centre against his face, demanding more.
“NITEN!”
The man in question with his mouth completely wet added another finger and began fucking her with the intention of coaxing one orgasm out of her to loosen her before taking her thoroughly. The thought of it reminded him his own painful predicament. His leaking cock was brushing against the mattress with every movement, torturing him and giving him small reliefs at the same time. He would definitely find his end if he didn’t get inside of her fast. He whined at thought of that warm spot that his cock was aching for and couldn’t hold himself back from grinding against the mattress to stave off his own need for a few more minutes. He would not hurt her, and he would let himself finish only inside of her. The sweat was beginning to gather on his forehead from physical and emotional self-control.
Aoife was however too far gone to notice Niten’s turmoil with her own eyes but was reminded by the bond that sent flashes of desire to her, heightening her pleasure even more. Every thrust of his fingers hit the same spot, she knew she couldn’t hold back the hot whirlwind spinning in her stomach anymore and decided to embrace it. Her walls were clenching around his long painter fingers coaxing them to stay inside, his maddening licks over her clit drove her crazy, making her abdomen clench and hump his face with no regard for him. The only thing she felt was the building pressure in her lower body. She didn’t hear anything she shouted out; she might have said his name or pleading him to add one more finger or it might have been incoherent sobbing, she had no idea.
The pleasure was intensifying by the second as were the speed of his fingers going in and out of her, dragging along her walls. One precise shove against the bundle of nerves, the curling of his fingers and the lick of his tongue over her clit and the tension snapped. A white-hot pleasure penetrated every part of her, rendering her incapacitated for an instant. Her body arched from the mattress as Niten held her through the intense orgasm, his fingers still brushing against the spot to prolong the pleasure, her inner walls were clenching around them cajoling them to never leave and his mouth completely soaked. Her toes curled as her trembling legs trapped him against her in a vice grip.
When she came back to herself, stretching her tense body like a cat under the night sky, she found Niten kneeling in front of her one more time and watching her with an amazement that wasn’t due to her appearance or anything they had done previously.
“Aoife, fuck!”
She looked at him blankly, not getting his surprise.
“Your hands are still there,” he whispered as if not quite believing what he was seeing.
Were they? Aoife mustered her mushy brain work and he was indeed right. Her hands had stayed above her head the entire time. Now that she thought about them, she felt the ache the pose had left her hands with and brought them on her stomach before stretching them, too. Hmm, interesting. She hadn’t even thought about her hands.
But while she was laying there completely satisfied, Niten’s whole body was flushed and his lower lip, still drenched in her fluids, was between his teeth. His angry cock was curved into his stomach begging to be touched. “I love you so much. I need…Please.” His words fell apart, but Aoife could guess what he needed.
“I’m ready for you, husband,” said the redhead, pushed herself up, ignoring the wetness between her legs, and manhandled the poor man to lay at the centre of the mattress. With a quick movement, she took the hot member in a tight grip at the root.
“Ah!” Niten bucked into her hand, any resemblance of self-control gone, hands tearing at the mattress. The cock twitching at the barest pressure as her other hand caressed his heavy balls.
The vampire didn’t have the heart to tease him more, after all Niten had been wonderful for her. The tears gathering at the corners of his eyes spoke of an all-encompassing need. She leaned closer and shushed: “You took such good care of me. I’ll take care of you now.”
“Aoife.”
She planted her knees next to Niten’s legs, one hand on his solid chest and other one guided his cock inside of her. When his tip breached the first ring of muscles, the man threw his head back with a shout, but Aoife cursed when the fit was still tight despite her husband’s best efforts at loosening her and a tinge of hurt pierced her. If this was any other situation, this small discomfort wouldn’t have been even worth mentioning, but celebrating their wedding wasn’t supposed to be hurtful. The man’s hands came to squeeze her lithe waist, slowing her down when she was forcing her way down too fast.
“Relax first.” The man’s face was red from exertion of doing his best to remain still and yet he was able to think about her. Aoife let herself breath a moment as her body slackened. “Good.” The praise in that low wrecked voice affected her body almost as much as his fingers had previously. Her hands kneaded his chest, shoulders and abdomen, and bit back a whimper when she felt fluids dripping down her legs. Feeling his tip sliding into her more naturally without the pain, she resumed lowering herself down. Bit by bit she finally took all of him, his cock reaching unknown depths in her, brushing up against every hidden crevasse. Niten was splitting her in half and her walls contracted at the thought.
After a second of getting used to the sensation of being full, her body learning to accommodate him, Aoife began to move her hips. She let his cock almost out before plunging down again. The sudden movement tearing a groan from Niten, his fingers digging into her skin, leaving red marks. His messy hair was clinging to his sweaty forehead, and his mouth was wide open, his body and pleasure completely at her mercy. The woman wasn’t faring any better when she repeated the action and she let out a very needy whine when his cock rubbed deliciously against her inner walls and the tip touching the bundle of nerves. The love of her life was everywhere – around her, inside of her, holding onto her. All of her senses were filled with Niten.
With the friction against that one spot, she soon began feeling a familiar coil of tension rising within her that had been satisfied for a brief while. Through the bond she could sense Niten, whose face had deformed into series of furrows trying to stave off his orgasm on the verge of which he’d been since the beginning. The man was in agony, waiting for her. Oh, her poor chivalrous husband! She’d better get there fast, because he was not going to last. And while Aoife had nothing against just being there for Niten, she knew how much he wished to share this moment.
So, she angled her body a bit backwards, using his chest for support to get the perfect angle so with every thrust he would brush against her bundle. The effect was instant; the hot whirlwind began building with a new fervour, the fluids that drenched Niten’s cock made their way down her legs and dripped onto his stomach. She rode him with a wild abandon, revelling in the way the man seemed incapable of any thought besides her. That was why, she was so surprised when the man made his move.
Without a warning, he pushed himself up, securing one arm around her waist to keep Aoife from falling backwards at the sudden change of pose with a yelp and his right hand, after Niten had ensured his position, came to her engorged nub. He took her clit between his thumb and index finger to play with it. Aoife’s channel squeezed the man’s cock tightly as her body shuddered at the onslaught of pleasure from the inside and outside, her eyes rolling back.
“Niten!”
“Who am I?” demanded the man in an unusual strict voice.
The redhead, who was holding onto him for dear life, met his dark blazing eyes.
“My husband,” she breathed out in a ruined voice, but that was enough to ignite something in him. Aoife felt him getting even larger if that was even physically possible or maybe she just imagined it when Niten gave her clit one last rough twist that she loved before relocating his hands to her hips and inclining her backwards, half on the mattress, half in the air. He shifted his legs, so he was once again kneeling and began plunging into her fast, hitting her sweet spot with every thrust. His strong grip moving her body just as he wanted, just as he needed. And she shouldn’t have found that so hot!
Aoife could only moan, struggling to find a place to hold onto, finally landing one hand on his nape and the other one below her body on the mattress. The coil in her abdomen was threatening to burst every time her walls squeezed yet another gasp out of the man. The bond made sure they experienced the other’s pleasure as if it were their own, doubling the sensations to the point they were not sure they were two different persons anymore and not just one entity. Aoife’s fingers dug into his neck that still wore her teeth marks and that notion sudden brought her closer to the edge than she thought she was.
“I’m going…” she struggled to say.
Niten, who had been on the verge of coming for ages, could only snarl and give her an open-mouthed kiss before whispering: “I love you, my wife.”
That was her undoing. She screamed into his mouth as she came, her walls clenching down hard on his still moving cock and her mind blanketed, the pleasure raging through her so all-encompassing the world was muted for a few seconds. Niten’s hand that had come to stimulate her folds prolonged her pleasure and lifted her into the heights she didn’t know even existed. Her entire body was one big ball of nerves, his hands on any part of her body felt like the best kind of torture right now, gripping, pulling, pushing, caressing. Aoife was just a puppet in his hands that he wielded like his swords or brushes. The only thing she registered was Niten finally letting go with a satisfied groan and with a one final deep thrust filling her up, her walls weakly still fluttering around him, coaxing him not to leave her.
Her hands fell backwards with a quiet thud as Niten, shuddering from aftershocks himself, carefully laid the unresponsive woman on the mattress, positioning himself next to her, not willing to pull out of his wife just yet, revelling in the welcoming heat and overflowing wetness that beaconed the man to get hard again. The temptation was great as Aoife’s channel still squeezed around him gently from the intense orgasm, but he knew they needed rest and he needed to sleep at least a few hours before he was more than willing to savour his wife again. Gods, he will never tire of calling her that, will he? Niten’s head was tucked into Aoife’s neck, breathing her in. The warmth of him against her lulled her deeper into slumber, not quite sleep, but a state in where the world fell away.
After a while, before he let himself succumb to the need to close his eyes, Niten with only pure willpower pulled himself from her body, leaving a puddle of their joint fluids on the mattress. He didn’t find it in himself to be embarrassed about the mess, on the contrary, his cock twitched at the sight. His wife laying on next to the proof of their lovemaking made him lightheaded and questioning his own decision of waiting a bit before their next round. A cheeky part of him raised his finger, scooped some of it from her soft stomach and brought it to his lips. It was the best thing he’s ever tasted. He couldn’t resist another mouthful. What would a younger Niten think of his indecent behaviour if he could see him now?
The present day Niten would grin and answer him that he wasn’t the one with a literal goddess as a wife. His heart was ready to burst from the combination of both their feelings as he gazed upon Aoife of the Shadows, his wife. He smiled widely, feeling like a young schoolboy again with his first crush. Would this all-encompassing love for her diminish with time? He hoped not. It had only grown these past centuries, and he imagined it would continue to do so.
Previous shock of what Dora had said crossed his mind – children. More specifically, their children. When the possibility arose, his mind had been in disarray with questions, considerations and ultimately, wants. He had always had a soft spot for children. But was this life suitable for them? Rescuing kids from war and fire, even babysitting them for a few days to reunite them with their family was one thing, but having children of their own quite another. In his mind a small redhead with green eyes running all over the boat, causing a ruckus while a darkhaired and -eyed painted their first painting filled his imagination. Or maybe it will be the other way around. The more he let himself dream, the clearer the picture became and his heart yearned for it. To know their children. Even just thinking about the phrase “our children” punched him as strongly as a war hammer in the best way. However, the dangers of their lifestyle could not be taken lightly. Also, he had to learned what Aoife wished regarding their aftergrowth, but a hopeful part of him clung to the fact that she had not refused the second her grandmother had proposed the thought. But this important conversation and decision could wait for a time when his head was not too stiff to hold up.
With a heavy heart and even heavier eyelids he eventually pushed himself up with the last caress of her cheek, dragged the soft blanket over her, and made his way to the small bathroom of the boat taking in the beauty of the night and all the lives around them they managed to save.
Aoife gazed lazily at the night sky sometime later. The stars and the moon seemed somehow brighter in Niten’s presence. The sleeping man was curled up to her side, one hand over her stomach and the other one under her head, the blanket over them. He had dutifully cleaned them up before collapsing on the mattress they had a half a mind to turn around for comfort. Aoife’s left hand that was under Niten’s body was slowly stroking his head resting on her shoulder. Her right hand was idly stroking his wedding ring, reminding herself this was not a dream.
They were married.
A tear of happiness she didn’t push down flowed down her face as she kissed his forehead, her lips lingering on the warm skin.
A flash of light caught her attention from the corner of her eye. It was a falling star. Humans wished under it, thinking it would make their dream come true. Aoife didn’t believe in such superstitions but found herself entertaining the thought of it tonight. What would she even wish for?
She had everything she could ever want.
And for the first time in her life, it was the truth. Her heart was peaceful.
But if she had to make a wish, then she’d wish her life to stay the same for as long as it could. For it was the life she’d always dreamed of.
When suddenly, Niten’s dreams projected to her mind and two little faces, one redhaired and another darkhaired, looked up to her expectantly, Aoife had to admit that maybe, just maybe her dreams could grow as she had. Whether she was ready for them to change she did not know just yet.
But with Niten by her side, she had no doubt they would figure it out.
The six most typical parent/mentor types in literature and other media (by my subjective observations)
Beware of the spoilers to many books, movies and tv series! Proceed at your own caution.
1. The dead/absent parent(s) is one of the most used types of parents (in fantasy and sci-fi anyway). It creates a why the main character doesn’t know about their past or powers or something along those lines. It brings the traumatic past aspect to the story and motivates the character to take revenge on the villain who killed their parent(s) aka join forces with the good guys. If the parent does briefly show up later in the story, they usually don’t affect it too much. It’s mainly to explain why they abandoned the main character and get some closure (“I only wanted to protect you”) only to sacrifice themselves two seconds later to get a (usually) not deserved redemption arc.
An example: Balinor and Merlin (still bitter Merlin didn’t have more time with his dad, the poor lad deserved it, imagine him training Merlin and them having to hide it in Camelot). Also, Lily, James and Harry Potter (the most famous dead parents of all time).
2. The first type of evil parent(s) do wish to have a relationship with their child, or they do, but their worldview and goals don’t align with the main character’s worldview and goals. It creates conflicts which can only end when one of them is dead. It doesn’t matter whether the child becomes a better person and begins to question the actions they have so far approved of or not done anything about, or the parent(s) methods become more extreme, or perhaps they met already having different views. The parent couldn’t convince the child to join forces aka abandon their conscience and accept that killing innocents is the right way to a better future etc. Their relationship goes gradually downhill during the duration of the story or is never good to begin with. Sometimes mutual respect is found, and a civil conversation is had, but ultimately their principles tear apart every sincere intention they might have had towards one another. It is a bittersweet exploration of two individuals united by blood divided by stances and you can’t help but wonder how their relationship would have turned out if their views weren’t so different whether they be good or bad. The parent may face turn in the end to save the child only to die. These kind of parents can be really strong characters on their own, the leader of the bad guys etc., or they can also be relevant to the bad side only because their child is the main character aka they are more in the role of the parent, who is evil, rather than an evil character, who happens to be the parent of the main character.
An example: Anakin (Darth Vader) and Luke Skywalker (the most famous face turn of all time). Uther and Arthur Pendragon (they had good moments as well, but most of their conflicts rose from different worldviews and beliefs, is magic evil or not).
The second type of evil parent(s) are just villains with children fighting on the good side. The parent(s) is just pure evil, and the fact they have a child fighting for the other side plays such a minor role in the story you couldn’t identify it with a magnifying glass. They may want the child dead for whatever reason. Maybe they didn’t know they had a child and are afraid they might become more powerful than them, but it is not so different from any other bad guy trying to destroy the main character. Maybe during the last battle a few manipulating sentences about their other parent are muttered, but that’s pretty much all we get.
Don’t have a good example for this one, sorry.
3. The mentor is the most frustrating type out of the six because this character is sentenced to death in the first or second bigger standoff between the main characters and the bad guys. They are there to give the main character introduction to this hidden world and/or powers and train them a little because the parents are either dead or absent. But most of all they are in the story to further motivate the character to swear to destroy the villain when they die in the first book or season. Their death leaves the character on their own or with a friend group and has to persevere and get better without a trusted mentor by their side. You just know they are going to die the second they swear to train the main character because the last battle has to be between the main villain and main good character not between the villain and the mentor (and maybe the main character on the side).
An example: Obi-Wan Kenobi and Luke Skywalker in the “New Hope” (Obi-Wan has become a massive character on his own, but just in the context of this first release he was a mentor who sacrificed himself, we can debate how much the force affected his decision in a way “my time has come”, but my point still stands). Now, one mentor, who doesn’t die, is Haymitch Abernathy (Hallelujah, we love to see it)!
4. The parent parent(s) is just there because a teenager can’t live on their own. They have no other purpose than to fill the parent role. They don’t question why their child has been absent for the last two-three days or let it be for the most part when they get some off-hand comment. They don’t appear much, they don’t do much, they bring very little to the story itself. They are not confided in the secrets till the last moment, if at all. They only give relieved hugs in the end when their kids come home all bloody having saved the world, saying how much they love them. They just exist because you can’t have a bunch of fourteen-year-olds living alone. Now, not every side character can have their own storyline, it’s impossible and not every story has to include a parent (most don’t) character. However, if it’s so obvious no coherent thought has been put towards the parents’ reactions and actions to make it even a little bit realistic, it comes off as lazy writing. If their whole purpose is to be a parent to the main character(s) in the story, then have them at least be good at that.
An example: the entire “Stranger Things” parent group, especially in the earlier seasons (like what were they doing the entire time their children were fighting Demogorgons and evil scientists, dinner?, oh wait, one was flirting with a half younger guy while being married).
5. The character parent(s) is one of the most underused character tropes of all time. They are characters in their own right who just happen to be parents. They have their own aims, storyline, character arcs – they are treated as characters rather than only as parents. They are not evil parents as they don’t commit mass murder on the side, and their worldview is not polar opposite of their child’s. Their character and conflicts with the main character aren’t built upon the fact that they are evil. They may be a grey character, or just not as soft-hearted as their child but they still fight on the good side. The relationship with their child can vary from dislike and no communication to being best pals and very close. This type includes parent(s) that we don’t see that often in a series but nevertheless they are their own recurring characters (they may be side characters, but they are not absent). These sorts of parents also seem to die more often than not, but at least their character got depth and actual development (hopefully).
An example: Tamas and Taniel from the “Powder Mage” series (12/10 series, no notes, lies I have many, would have liked more scenes with them bonding or just talking, but what we had was so satisfying).
6. The adoptive parent(s) of the group are someone(s) who are usually older, more experienced and are in on it. The younger ones look up to them and look for them for guidance and safety, but they are not actually adoptive parent(s). The situation has forced them to take on the guardian role. Not every older character who interacts and doesn’t necessarily want to kill the main character is an adoptive parent of the group. The person who gives advice once because the main character appeared on their doorstep and shows up in the final battle isn’t who I would call this sort of adoptive parent. The adoptive parent of the group cares for the well-being of the younger ones and is always there for them or at least wants to be. They are not mentors because most of the time they aren’t more powerful than the main character, but they still do everything in their power to help them and shield them from danger. It would deeply hurt them if one of the main characters died and not only because the world would lose the only power it has to stand up to the evil. The adoptive parents of the group actually care about the person wielding the power, not the power itself. They are not stepparents; they are parents who stepped up and rose to the occasion. These sorts of adoptive parents don’t die that often (at least at the beginning) because they assume the role while being more and more involved. We usually don’t see what happens after the story ends, but if they survived, I imagine they would have a good relationship with the younger ones. They don’t have to jump in front of the danger for them anymore, but they absolutely would.
An example: Steve Harrington, Jim Hopper and Joyce Byers seem to be the adoptive parents of the group for the younger kids (“always the babysitter”).
The real adoptive parent(s), who have legally (or not) adopted the main character, can fall into every category (Luke Skywalker has dead adoptive parents, Rapunzel from “Tangled” has evil adoptive parent who only cares about her hair etc).
These are just the most typical parents/mentors I have encountered, obviously there are parents that are a mix of these, and some do not fit in any of these etc. Also, this observation is based on the stories where the child is an active character and not a baby in which case rather the parent is the main character.
I will never understand why the writers choose to always kill off the parents/mentors. It’s like an unwritten rule. I get it fulfils a purpose of motivation, but most of the time it’s predictable and cheap. The relationship growth or the regression (imagine the angst) between the parent and the child, when possible, would be much better than another dead parent or mentor.
That being said I appreciate books and shows that actually put an effort in developing the relationships and if the parent dies it feels justified and not just a plot device. Some book series I have read where the parent-child dynamic actually evolves: “Vampire Academy”, “Vorkosigan Saga” and “Powder Mage” series. Not to mention giants like “The Lord of the Rings” and the “Game of Thrones”. Of course, there are many more (you can recommend them), but these are just the ones that popped into my mind while writing this.
The defeated and bloodied king was chained to kneel in front of his enemy and he says weakly: "Is my wife still alive?" His enemy nodded.
"You fools," he said smirking, and the king starts laughing as the sounds of explosions getting closer shake the room.
In my opinion, one of the most interesting relationships in books and tv shows is between a child and their parent(s), who have made some questionable parenting choices (still within reason) and/or have been distant from the child's life whether by their own choice or not, but would die without a moment's hesitation for them (not because of honor etc., but because they love them, but don't know how to express it).
It's especially delicious when they are a high ranking military officer (or this world's equivalent to it), who serve their country and demand respect etc., but the second someone goes after their child they go absolutely feral.
For clarification, I don't mean abusive parents or anything like that. I mean parents who genuinely love their child(ren), but are struggling with showing affection for one reason or the other. I like seeing them grow as a person and as a parent and apologize for their past mistakes or at least explain the reasoning behind the decisions, and see the child finally feel the love they deserve from their parent(s).
I don't support such relationships in real life. Show your children you love them! But in books and shows, it is gripping to explore.
The first time we meet Tamas in the Powder Mage trilogy he has just taken down those who denied him revenge after his wife's murder and the last time we see him he saves his son's life by stabbing a god and delaying her advances.
So in the original trilogy, Tamas's first action is for his wife and his last action is for his son.
I just started reading Promise of Blood by Brain McClellan.
My head is empty save for the Tamas/Olem ship.
‘Tamas glanced down as Mihali took the mug from him. He heard Mihali say, as if from a distance, “You’ll need to carry him up to bed. He shouldn’t have any problem sleeping now.” Pg: 290
Mihali was talking to Olem. He was telling Olem to carry Tamas back to bed. His bed that is 6 floors above the kitchen. 6 fucking floors.
I need details damnit!
How did he carry him? Did anyone see? Did people see but pretend not to? Did Olem have to take a break half way up? *gasp* Olem had to tuck Tamas into bed. Did he pet the hound’s head when he left? Did he watch him sleep for a while to make sure he was okay?
Details!!! These are important details!
Seriously, though, I am enjoying this book for the actual story and not just my ship.
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