Sorry for the delay in updates had so much on; hope this makes up for it!

Claire's pov

Shane's hand has a vice like hold on mine, as I feel sweat bead at the back of my neck. Amelie stands, as still as a carved statue next to the door; her pale pink suit seems marginally too bright against her alabaster skin. I turn my head to look at Annabelle who's protectively held to Shane's chest; her curls are wild sticking in every direction whilst even though her tears have stopped falling her eyes are bright and red- the surrounding baby fat blotchy and somehow all the more adorable. Shane's face is set into a mask, his arm around Annabelle is tensed- even in this short time Annabelle has become our child, and so our family has become all the more complicated and this fight has become all the more frightening.

'So em guys…what are we even doing?' Eve's voice carries over the room, as she relentlessly paces picking at her chipped black nails with a passion as if she wishes to break off the entire nail. 'Like this Bishop…as in Bishop!'

'Calm child.' Amelie's voice is soft but carrying. 'Your young friend's sacrifice has told me more than I can ever have understood, my Father has the ability to overcome Magnus- the power of blood makes that so.'

There is definite hope in Amelie's voice, a hope that even I know is somewhat dangerous to possess especially when it's in relation to that man. A man who has openly showed his hatred of us… of this place and especially of Amelie.

'I don't like it.' Michael's words are mine too. His tone is regretful and fierce. His whole persona gives off an entire vibe of unease.

'You don't have to like it Michael, it just has to work.'

'Amelie how can we trust him? After everything.'

'You've been a vampire Michael, you know that beyond anything my father is hated but only because of his power and bloodlust- he is the best ally we can have.'

'What a lovely sentiment Amelie.' His voice sends a shiver down my spine; he frames the door with his mass. His smile is cruel and barbaric I feel myself take an even stronger hold on Shane's hand; in my heart knowing that one false move could mean an entire massacre.

'All true Master Bishop but you'd know.'

'But still to here the words from one's blood is quite a change from telling myself.'

Oliver steps around bishop, the tails of his black leather coat flapping at his heels. He takes his place beside Amelie, stretching his hand to her so that they stand united.

'Well…' Bishop saunters over to the abandoned couch next to the draped window. 'In a time a crisis it tis I who must save it all.'

'Don't inflate your ego to much father.' Amelie's voice is empty of emotion, though her body language tells a different tale. Her calm exterior is barely hiding the obviously fearful truth inside.

'So…' I say trying to gage the fear in the room, and turn the conversation to the problem at hand.

'So…' Bishop mocks, I feel Shane's muscles tighten; I dig my nails into his hand to ward him off- we can't fight him because sadly we need him.

'We need you to help us get rid of Magnus, you're going to help; and then you can leave and it will be fine.' I sound confident, and rather bitchy all that time standing up to Monica obviously has paid off.

'But why should I help you human?'

'Because this is your kind. Vampires are going to die and even though your cold and calculated do you really want to be in such a minority group when everyone here is slaughtered because he'll come after you next and who'll be in your army?'

'You know nothing of it child.'

'I know that you'll help us.'

'You know nothing; I rule I do not get ruled.'

'This time Father you do!' Amelie's voice is like a whip; she walks across the room in silence just the tap of her stiletto heels breaking the deafening silence. She stands in front of the couch, a mere foot from Bishop. I stop breathing, my hearts pounds faster than a train in my chest.

'Don't try Amelie.'

'You forget father, I learnt this all at your knee.' The pain erupts in my head, like a vice getting tighter and tighter until all I can do is hold me head in my hands; I hear Shane's moan of pain too only for Annabelle's wail to tear me back from my own little section of hell. I look to my left to see her face scrunched up in pain; an abundance of tears cascading down her cheeks. I reach out to my little girl, as Shane tries helplessly to calm her or to take away the pain, that is only building and getting more and more outrageously agonising.

It's in this second I realise that I recognise the pain. Recognise the building of terror; an exchange of power. I have been witness twice to Amelie and Oliver and their battle for power but this is beyond that- that pain may as well of been a gentle caress this is agonising.

Amelie's squeal startles me, I look up at her and see her standing over bishop; Oliver's supporting hand on her back as his face is scrunched up in pain due to his even closer proximity. Amelie's hands are positioned on Bishop's temples; her hands bone white in the light; her face is tight with power, agony and desperation but if Amelie looks bad Bishop looks worse. He's paled a dozen shades; his hands don't seem to have the strength to grasp her back as he feebly tries to raise his hands up to hers. I watch mesmerised as Amelie lowers her face down to Bishop's, but only for seconds as the pain becomes blinding, as if the pressure of the room is concentrated into my skull.

Only a few seconds pass and the pain lifts; gone in an instant that makes me somewhat nauseous. I looked up to Shane to seem him pulling Annabelle closer, cradling her sobbing form in his arms- as his brow creases in desperation. I crawl over to him; I'm surprised to find myself (us all on the fall) I grab for Shane's arms as he pulls me into a hug- and his lips find mine crashing down to me with such honest relief. I run my hands over Annabelle checking all her perfection is still in place, feeling my heart begin to slow as Michael and Eve crawl over to us; joining forces in the security of our little corner.

Amelie's figure stands tall, though her back is now to us; Bishop is so much worse for wear he holds a shaking hand to his neck trying to stem the blood leaking from the two fang marks. Oliver stands beside Amelie, offering her a handkerchief from his pocket- it silence for a few moments only broken by our erratic breathing, and Shane's whispers to a trembling Annabelle.

'You win.' Bishop croaks.

'I always do.' Amelie says, turning to face us- a speck of blood on her lips.

'So we fight?' Oliver murmurs.

'We fight.' Amelie agrees.

'Fabulous, fabulous!' Myrnin laughs, wandering into the room. 'I hate to miss a good power struggle but anyhow…'

So we fight… but what can I even stand to lose.