Ariana's Awakening - The morning sun broke gently through the silk curtains of her chamber. The scent of lavender lingered in the air, placed thoughtfully by Edward beside her pillow. The kingdom was still asleep… but Ariana wasn't. She sat upright in bed, hair messy, the traces of tears still clinging to her cheeks. Her eyes stared at nothing. Only feeling. She clutched the edge of her blanket tighter. A quiet pain swelled in her chest—not because Lucian had kissed her in his drunken madness, not because Rowan's fury chased her across kingdoms, but because... he let her go. "He let me go," she whispered to herself. That one thought echoed like a strange song. For so long, she had cried, fought, screamed to be freed from him. And now, in the one moment she returned—not to stay, not to run—he had not stopped her. Not with magic, not with chains, not with words. She remembered his eyes... red and dim, filled with wine and something more tragic than lust—longing. He had kissed her. Yes. But then… he called her back. He didn't chase. And she had run. Tears welled in her again. Not from fear. But guilt. "Why... does it hurt now, when he didn't force me?" she asked herself. She stood slowly from the bed, her bare feet touching the cold marble floor. Her eyes caught something on the table nearby—a single white rose. She walked closer. It was fresh. With a note tucked beneath. In elegant, dark handwriting: "You still had one slipper. You didn't need the other to return. —L" Ariana touched the rose gently and smiled—a faint, broken, uncertain smile. She was still confused. Still torn. Still haunted by his past cruelties, Rowan's protectiveness, and her own dream of her father whispering that he is worthy. But one thing was clear now. Lucian didn't need to hold her prisoner. She was already held… by the memory of his touch. By the sadness in his smile. By the gentleness he never had before. She clutched the rose close to her chest, tears falling silently. The girl who once hated him… had begun to miss the vampire who let her go.
The Rain, The Mask, and the Vampire's Smile - Thunder rolled across the blackened sky, and silver rain fell like whispered secrets onto the ancient towers of Lucien's castle. The courtyard glistened beneath the downpour, lanterns flickering like hearts uncertain whether to burn or fade. Among the guests cloaked in elegance and mystery, she entered. Ariana—cloaked in velvet midnight, her gown as dark as the clouds above. A delicate black mask covered her face, but Lucien knew her. He'd know her even if the world turned to ash. He stood motionless at the sight of her, rain trickling down his raven hair, red eyes wide—not with power, but relief. "You returned," he breathed softly, breath caught. He walked toward her slowly, as if afraid she might vanish again. "I'm sorry, Ari. For kissing you… I wasn't myself. I—I was drunk. I didn't mean to—" Ariana looked down, voice shy. "It's okay. Since I… like you, Lucien." The words felt foreign on her tongue. But right. So deeply right. She looked into his eyes now, the rain tracing her cheeks like tears. "You were once the monster who harassed me, touched me when I was chained… But now," she said, stepping closer, "I'm glad. That you're changing. Understanding me. Giving me freedom… and letting me go when I need it." Lucien stared at her—this girl who had once trembled in fear, now standing before him like fire cloaked in lace. Something fragile and brave. His heart, centuries old, pounded like it had just learned how. With a low chuckle, a wicked smirk curled on his lips. "So… my little flame returned… because she likes me?" He reached for her waist, pulling her gently—firmly—close, letting her mask press against his cheek. "This time, I'm not letting you go…" His voice dropped, velvet dark and warm. "…unless you really don't like me." Ari's breath caught. Her fingers trembled where they rested on his chest. The wind howled. Rain wrapped around them like a curtain. "…Okay," she whispered, blushing, heart racing. And just like that, the vampire prince smiled—not as a devil, not as a captor… but as a boy who, for the first time, had been chosen.
The Brothers' Argument - The castle halls echoed with Rowan's boots storming across the marble floor, his cloak billowing like the fury in his heart. He had searched the entire palace—no sign of her. When he found Edward leaning calmly against a pillar near the great staircase, Rowan's voice thundered through the hall. "Where is she?!" Edward didn't flinch. Cool, unreadable. "I don't know." But the hesitation—just a flicker—betrayed him. Rowan narrowed his eyes. He turned to the nearest maid. "You. When did you last see Princess Ariana?" The maid, trembling, curtsied. "With Lord Edward, my lord. She… she went out." Rowan's voice dropped, deadly quiet. "Don't tell me you…" Edward exhaled, jaw clenched. He didn't answer. Rowan, furious, snapped, "You let her go? Again?! Without telling me?" Edward snapped back, "She would be back. I know she will." Rowan's hands balled into fists. "If I knew, I would've stopped her. That vampire could—!" Edward, firm and loud, said, "She couldn't ask you! You never let her breathe without your permission!" Rowan looked betrayed, almost wounded. "I'm trying to protect her." "And I'm trying to trust her," Edward said. A silence fell. Rowan growled, "You let her go there again! We don't know when he'll suck her blood!" Edward's eyes blazed. "No such thing will happen." He stepped forward, now chest to chest. "If it does… I'll kill him myself." His voice was deadly calm. "So don't worry about her, Rowan. Worry about the day she stops coming back to you."
Torn Prince - Rowan's fists trembled at his sides. Edward stood tall, gaze unwavering, a silent shield for his sister's choices. The marble hall seemed to shrink, filled with the pressure of what was left unsaid. "You think I don't love her?" Rowan asked through clenched teeth. "I know you do. But love isn't a cage, Rowan," Edward said quietly. Rowan's eyes flashed with hurt. "I gave her my word, my protection… my heart." "Then trust her enough to use them, not hide behind them," Edward replied. A long silence followed. The rain outside began to fall harder, tapping against the stained glass. Rowan finally looked away, his voice breaking just slightly. "She doesn't look at me like she used to." "Maybe she's looking for the part of you that used to believe in her," Edward said softly. Rowan turned sharply, his cloak catching the wind of his motion. Without another word, he stormed down the corridor—boots echoing with fury and pain. He didn't stay. But behind him, Edward stood still, knowing the storm hadn't ended—only shifted skies.