Done for an Anon on Tumblr who asked for: 'the devil's bride'.

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Lydia is twenty two, and is used to the stares by now. Though this time the stares and not for the usual reasons.

This time it's not because of wandering around naked it the woods for two days, or because she went batshit crazy, or because she'd apparently 'joined a cult'. No, this time it's the ring on her left finger that's gaining all the attention.

"Ooooh. It's Jackson isn't it?" Claire the cashier asks. It's a reasonable assumption for the girl to make, they'd been 'friends' during high school when she and Jackson were still an item.

Lydia gives a brittle smile as she takes her bags. "No." Anyways Jackson would have gotten her gold and diamond, not platinum and bloodstone.

Claire looks scandalized. "Some very handsome collage boy then?" The girl is fishing and Lydia's getting tired of it.

"No."

The girl looks stymied, as if those are the only two options.

"It's Peter Hale." Lydia decides to throw the girl a bone, it's not like it won't be the talk of the town soon enough.

Claire goes slack-jawed and gives a tiny "oh."

Lydia takes her clothes and leaves, she doesn't need to see the surprise turn to fear.

She does not rush home, but she does hurry. There's only so much she can take.

When she gets home, the Hale house in all its former glory, she quickly slips off her shoes and uncaringly leaves her bags by the door.

She finds Peter in his study with two others. They, a man and a woman, look up when she enters and their eyes flash blue and red respectively. Lydia doesn't greet them, doesn't need to since she's just a poor, helpless human. Just walks up to Peter in his armchair and curls up in his lap.

Peter's only acknowledgment of her is a possessive hand on her thigh, his thumb brushing bare skin. But she doesn't mind, comfort is comfort. Peter continues whatever conversation they were having before she entered and she lets his voice and the rumble of his chest lull her into a half-sleep.

The click of the door shutting is enough to wake her. She only moves enough to nestle her face in the crook of his neck. A soft sigh escapes her as his other arm wraps itself around her, his hand coming to rest over her scars. "And how are you my dear?"

Lydia shrugs, not really feeling the need speak. Claws, oh so gently, dig into her thigh. "Lydia. I asked you a question."

"Tired. Exhausted. I want to curl up, go to sleep, and never wake up."

He gives a small chuckle. "You'd miss the wedding then my dear, and that would make us all very sad."

A snort of disbelief escapes her.

Even without looking she knows Peter's smiling. He begins rubbing soothing circles on her stomach and his face is buried in her hair. "The big bad world getting to be too much for you my dear?"

This is why I stay, she wants to shout at the world. But nobody else knows this side of him, nor probably ever will. "Yes," she sighs softly, burrowing closer.

He takes her in his arms, sweetly, gently, with the utmost care, and heads towards their room.

She doesn't protest when he strips her, though she wishes his touch wasn't so impersonal, and she gives a sound of contentment and the down comforter is tucked around her. He looks down at her and she blinks sleepily up at him. "Are you staying?"

He leans down and lays a kiss on her forehead. "Sorry dear. I still have some more business to do. Later though."

She gives a small nod and watches him leave.

"I love you," she whispers.

"With what little heart I have left," he answers.