Olive had never put so much effort into a sprint in her life. All she could focus her attention on was the feeling of the air brushing past her face and into her hair, and her feet pounding against the stone floors. She knew that if she were to so much as let her mind wander about the potential threat of blood-sucking human-killing vampires around every corner, it would only add to the amount of bubbling pressure that was rising in her throat.

She frantically turned left and right at each junction. At first, she'd been trying to retrace the steps she'd taken with Marcus earlier, but at the time she'd been too focused on his face to pay any attention to exactly where they were going.

There it was again. That was the third time in that run that her thoughts had wandered towards that man, the guy who seemed absolutely convinced that she was . . . his deceased wife? No, she had to get further away from him, the more distance the better, regardless of any attraction she felt towards him.

Her mind too preoccupied with her long and deep train of thought, she found herself becoming distracted enough to run directly into what she believed to be a wall. She stumbled backwards and was only just able to stay upright on her feet from the impact.

Olive's gaze drew upwards. There was a woman standing in front of her with long dark blonde hair that cascaded down her back in waves, but what stood out the most were her dark red eyes that almost seemed to glow in the ever fading light of the castle.

Before Olive could utter as much as a word, there was an indescribable blur of movement around her. Within a split second, she found herself pinned up against the wall by her neck. Her hands grabbed helplessly at the hand that was restricting her air flow into her lungs.

The woman held her so that she was forced to stare directly into her eyes. Olive squeezed her eyelids closed as tightly as possible, wishing for this all to be a dream.

"They let one get away again, did they now?" She hummed a short and disinterested laugh. With a flick of her wrist, Olive's head was pushed forcefully to the side which exposed her pale neck. "Huh, such a quiet one, aren't you? Well, I'm certain that no one would mind . . ."

A lone tear rolled down Olive's cheek. She only squeezed her eyes tighter shut as she felt the woman's hair brush against her own shoulder. All she could do now was anticipate the incredible pain that was about to hit her.

But that pain was never felt. Regardless, Olive kept her eyes closed while her surroundings changed quicker than her mind could comprehend. She felt air moving swiftly around her, and several voices, although they were all in a language she couldn't understand or recognise. And for some reason, they were . . . shouting? Wasn't she dead yet?

She dared to open her eyes, but barely—just enough for her to be able to peek through from under her eyelashes and see that it was Marcus standing above her. That was what she thought at first, until she realised he wasn't standing above her but actually cradling her gently in his arms as if she was some kind of injured little animal. She supposed that was all she was even seen as by that point—prey.

Marcus ordered for the other guards that had been summoned to apprehend the younger guard at once. He then glanced down at Olive who was blankly staring up at him through wide and startled eyes. Her cheeks were already wet with tears that glistened under the candlelight that illuminated the corridor.

In all honesty, he'd been following close behind her from the moment she ran off. He fully understood why she would, for he was sure any sane person would've done the same, but the entire reason for staying some distance behind was to ensure nothing like this would happen.

Marcus then murderously stared down the guard who had been pushed down to her knees. He was pleased to see the woman cower in fear, and only once he noticed Jane beginning to approach from one end of the hall did he begin to walk in the other direction.

The short walk was at a human pace so as not to startle Olive further, yet completely silent. She curled into herself and rapidly blinked her eyes which forced another tear out. With much hesitancy, he shifted her weight to his right arm and used his left hand to wipe the tears from under her eyes. She flinched for a moment but didn't make any attempt to stop him.

"Are you hurt, Olive?" he murmured as they began to approach the guest room.

Olive numbly shook her head. Honestly, she didn't want to think about what had just happened back there. Maybe, if she wasn't so traumatised, she would've been embarrassed, especially after the way she reacted directly towards the guy who was carrying her back, but she couldn't even find the energy to feel that. Her neck was a little sore, but other than that she just felt physically and emotionally drained.

Marcus opened the door with his free hand and pushed it closed behind him. Since it was already getting late into the evening, he decided it probably best to simply place her directly into her bed. He gently rested her down on the mattress and draped the quilt over her, already noticing that her eyelids were beginning to weigh heavy and her previously rapid heartbeat was coming to a restful pace.

After pausing beside her bed for a moment, he turned around and began to leave the room.

"Please don't go!"

He turned around so quickly that Olive jumped slightly. Her voice had been such a desperate squeak that he automatically concerned himself.

But Olive just didn't want to be alone again, not in this place where life-sucking vampires who wanted to consume her blood lurked around every corner. She feared for her life for the first time in many years, and it was far from a feeling she was comfortable with. As far as things were currently going, Marcus was the only one she could trust.

She continued to babble on awkwardly in an attempt to fill the void of silence. "Well, at least don't—I don't know, I just—I don't want you to leave, but . . ." she sighed, "I don't want to be alone, Marcus." She broke again at the last sentence and another tear dropped onto her pillow.

Marcus smiled softly at her. Without saying another word, he picked up a book which she hadn't even noticed had been left on her bedside table and, at a regular human speed, he moved across the room and sat down in the armchair near her bed.

Olive could already feel herself barely clinging on to wakefulness. Despite her efforts, her eyelids weighed heavy and began to close.

Before falling asleep, she managed to mumble an almost incoherent, "Thank you."

Unbeknownst to her, Marcus had no intention of actually reading the book in his hand, but rather enjoying the peaceful sound of her regular heartbeat. "It is my pleasure, my dear," he whispered.

Although Olive had had a rough sleep the previous night, that night wasn't any better in the slightest. Not only did she wake up with the same groggy feeling accompanied by a throbbing headache, but her neck was feeling unbelievably sore.

She slowly brought herself upright and propped her weight up on her right hand while her left rubbed at her tired eyes. She still had no idea what the time was, but one thing she did know was that Marcus was no longer there. The room was empty once more.

Olive felt . . . oddly disappointed. After everything, logically she should've been just a little embarrassed, and glad that she was alone so that she could live out the humiliation of her yesterday's actions in peace. But no, instead she just felt almost as miserable as the previous night. At least, with Marcus around, she was far less likely to be killed by a stray blood-drinking monster.

After a few moments of pondering her emotionally disorientated thoughts, she stood up from the bed, still in her previous day's clothes, and changed into a dark grey short-sleeved blouse with a black a-line skirt which was ever so slightly shorter than her dress from the previous day.

Out of curiosity, she lifted the unmoved pile of clothing to glance at the bottom. She sighed of relief when she saw both bras and underwear, all new with tags. And at least they were nothing to ridiculous, nothing lacy or unnecessarily uncomfortable. Well, a few were, but she just pretended she hadn't seen those in the first place. Ignorance is bliss.

The only two items that remained the same as before were her denim jacket and her Converse shoes. Something about it just made her feel comfortable, somewhat, like she was still her own person despite being forced into what was effectively Hotel Transylvania but in Italy where she felt treated like a dress-up doll.

As she sat on the floor with her back against the footboard of the bed and tied her shoelaces, there was a soft knock on the door. Just from the gentleness of it, she could instantly tell who it was, and found herself mentally scolding herself when she smiled. "Um . . . yes?"

With what she noticed was much more cautiousness than yesterday, Marcus entered the room just as gracefully as Aro had before. Much alike to the previous day, he also wore an all-black and very expensive looking suit, which only highlighted his ghostly pale complexion.

She watched him expectantly, waiting for him to say something. Even as much as a, 'good morning,' would suffice. Instead, however, his eyes seemed to be drawn entirely to her neck. Now that she thought about it, she hadn't really taken a moment to check the condition of her poor strangled neck in the mirror, but his reaction really wasn't doing anything to ease her nerves.

"Is it bad?" she asked cautiously. He didn't answer for a moment. "Marcus, you're kinda worrying me right now. Do I look like I've been strangled?"

Finally snapping out of whatever thought was distracting him, he hummed as he paced towards her slowly. "It is not good, I'm afraid. May I?" He pointed to her neck.

Olive knew what he was asking and hesitantly agreed. She tilted her head slightly to the side and swept her black hair away from her shoulder. Marcus very lightly pressed the back of his hand against her skin, but he instantly retracted his hand again when she made a quiet hiss of pain.

"I apologise," he muttered.

She raised a very confused and just plainly lost eyebrow at him. "You're apologising? You're kidding. What the hell for?"

"I should have arrived to help you sooner. Maybe if I had, your neck would not be in the state it is in currently." Through his explanation, he refused to look at her but instead stared off through the small gap in the curtains that were the only thing stopping Olive from going blind from the strength of the sunlight. His expression seemed to be that of guilt, but it was near impossible to read.

"Okay, now you're worrying me." She tried to laugh off the panic and dashed over to the bathroom adjoined to the bedroom.

Olive stopped in front of the sink and gasped. Winding around from the right side of her neck to her left was a dark purple and very angry-looking bruise. She lifted her hand to lightly touch it with her fingertips but winced at the soreness of the injury.

"Is there, like, concealer or anything I can put over this?" she asked. She could feel the flush of blood rising to her cheeks. There was no way she wanted to be seen with that monstrosity.

Marcus had moved into the doorway and was leaning his right shoulder against the doorframe with his arms crossed. "We have no use for makeup, dear one. Do not concern yourself over this incident. The remaining guard have been made fully aware of you now and as such know the consequences that will come with a repeat of last night's events."

She tapped her fingernails against the ceramic sink. "I . . . I'm sorry for running off, and, you know, all that other crap-"

"Mind your language, dear," he chided, his expression stern.

"Sorry," Olive flinched and shrunk back a little, "stuff, rather than talking to you like any other normal person. I don't know—I didn't know what else to do. It's just . . . weird news to tell someone out of the blue, you know?"

Marcus agreed with a nod. "In truth, I did not plan on informing you so soon," he told her. "I originally planned for you to become more comfortable around me and the coven before eventually making you aware of the circumstances that surround your presence. Unfortunately, Aro decided to foil my plan during his attempt to befriend you."

"'Foil your plan', like some kind of super villain or something," she laughed. "And that was Aro's attempt at befriending me? If anything, it made me want to avoid him more."

He couldn't say he entirely disagreed with her on that. "Aro is . . ." He paused as he decided how to phrase his next sentence. "He becomes very—I suppose you could say overwhelming—when he discovers something, or someone, new—of course, not that you are new to him exactly. He means well, I can assure you. The loss of his sister hit him hard, you see," he explained, "so this is a strange adjustment for the both of us."

"How did he know my name right off the bat by the way?" Olive asked him. The silence that followed her question only fed her curiosity. She'd always found something about Aro unsettling, in the way that, to put it simply, he just knew.

"Did Aro not tell you?" Her confused head shake served as confirmation. "Some of our kind—immortals—develop supernatural gifts." He cleared his throat unnecessarily, clearly uncomfortable with where this was going. "I am sorry to be the one to tell you this, but Aro has the gift of tactile telepathy."

Olive blinked at him. "O-kay . . .?"

"It means he has seen every thought, whatever the significance, that has ever passed through your head."

"He what?!" she shouted.

Marcus grimaced subtly. "As much as I would like to say that it is not as bad as it sounds, I'm afraid it is. He knows you better than anyone else in the world, better than you will ever know yourself."

She growled quietly. Her stay in Volterra was becoming one long rollercoaster of emotions, quickly switching from fear to pure anger. "So you're saying he has seen every second of my entire life from my perspective? That slightly creepy guy knows absolutely everything I've ever thought about?"

He decided not to correct her by telling her that Aro was in fact her brother. It probably wasn't a good time. ". . . yes."

She leant against the sink with her head ducked down. Her breaths became heavy as she tried to calm herself down. "Let me guess, you have some kind of weird talent as well. You might as well tell me now before I actually lose all traces of sanity later."

He internally debated answering her question for the time being, but decided to bite the bullet and tell her. She would find out sooner or later, anyway. "Mine is not quite as bad, sweetheart, I can assure you. I can see the very bonds that connect souls together. Therefore I know the exact nature of relationships between individuals, and where one's true loyalties lie."

Of course, for very obvious reasons, he had no intention of making her aware of the mating bond that had begun to form as a faint silver cord between them, at least not yet. That could be a story for another time.

She sighed, not lifting her head at all. Her eyes remained hidden, fixed on the basin. "This can't be right."

"What can't be right, dear one?" he asked. He considered moving closer to her but decided against the idea.

"This." She gestured wildly to everything around her and rubbed at her temples. "This whole thing. I don't know what the hell is happening right now, but it must be some kind of huge mistake. I'm nothing special at all, not that important. It can't be—I can't be."

He glanced at her saddened expression and considered embracing her reassuringly. Instead he stood back a small distance to give her some space to think for herself. "I have a question for you. Is it true that you have a small birthmark on your chest? It should be located on your bottom rib, closer to the left side of your torso."

She froze and shot her gaze up at him. With reluctancy, she lifted the hem of her blouse as high as she could without exposing her bra underneath. Just as Marcus had described, on the soft skin just above her navel, closer to her left side, was her birthmark, not much larger than her thumb. It had a pinkish hue to it, which she was very used to seeing in the mirror since childhood.

Of course, Marcus was just as familiar with it as she was. During Didyme's human months, he had seen the mark on several occasions, but it did inevitably disappear with her immortality.

Olive quickly tugged the top back down again and messily tucked the edge into the waistband of her skirt. She closed her eyes briefly and took a few calming deep breaths before gazing through the mirror at Marcus again.

Her eyebrows furrowed together as she tried to come up with a sufficient question which would sum up just how confused she was."How?"

He placed a hand on her shoulder to gently turn her around to face him. "I will never lie to you, Olive, I can promise you that much. You are much more important than you believe, and I am certain you will come to that realisation soon."

She took one final look at herself in the mirror. And then she looked up at Marcus. With a heavy sigh, she cast her eyes downwards and began to say what she'd been very reluctant to from the moment she'd gotten out of bed in the morning.

"I . . . I'm willing to, um . . ." Marcus tilted his head to the side to get a better view of her timid and clearly flustered face. Her sudden feelings of embarrassment to him were both amusing and endearing. "Look, I'm not going to be unreasonable here. I'm willing to cooperate, and give this," she motioned across the small distance between them vaguely, "a shot, I suppose, if that makes any sense. Not that I had much other choice to begin with, but still, you, er, you get my drift." Her hands fumbled with the edge of her skirt. "I'm still not convinced that I am who you claim I am, but I'll try to . . . I don't know, live up to your expectations, or whatever . . ." Her sentence drifted off with her nose subtly twitching and her fingers knotting together awkwardly.

Olive had no desire to look up and make eye contact with Marcus. As far as she was concerned, this was hands-down one of the most embarrassing things she'd ever had to do, and hopefully ever would have to do.

Yet despite her obvious embarrassment, he honestly couldn't say he felt the same in any way. If anything, he was overjoyed that she was being so compliant, despite everything she'd been put through over the past 48 hours. It took everything in him to restrain himself from pulling her into his arms right there and then.

"You have no expectations to live up to, my dear," he assured her calmly. Olive reluctantly glanced up at him. "Simply having you here is enough for me, truly. And we will take things as slow as you would like. As long as you are happy, so am I."

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

Author's note: For reasons unknown, this took me literally forever to actually get around to uploading (maybe because I've been falling down the rabbit hole of the Danganronpa fandom, sshhhh). I just hope this story isn't going too fast, that's my big fear here, but don't worry, this isn't going to be one of those fics with smut in chapter 2 hahah.

Anyway, thank you so much for reading, stay safe, and ily lots!