Hi hello here I am again. This will be something of a double feature I guess. I'm putting chapter 5 here and will post chapter 6 immediately. Naturally these two chapters started as one whopper, but in keeping with my 2025 resolution I decided to split it approximately down the middle.

FOUR DAYS TIL SCHOOL

HALL OF PRINCES (after hours)

MIKA

It was so late in the night it bordered on early in the next day. Arrow was tired. He'd covered a long distance over a short amount of time to get back to Vampire Mountain quickly enough to overlap with Mika for several days. Four, to be exact. And for entirely selfish reasons, Mika appreciated the haste with which Arrow had returned.

"A?"

"Aye?"

Arrow's life experiences made him uniquely qualified to discuss one of the top contenders for the world's most tragic realities. The truth of the matter had been weighing upon Mika like a slab of granite for months and he was in no position to offload any of that weight onto Kurda's shoulders. He'd let it break him before resorting to that.

"Back when you were… away from all of this… how did you survive from one night to the next knowing you were going to outlive your children? This isn't rhetorical, by the way. I need practical solutions."

"…Charna's fucking guts, Mika. I've been back in this mountain for all of ten minutes. Can you let me take my coat off first?"

"Can you not multitask?" Laying sideways in his throne with a glass of whiskey in his hand, Mika shot a scathing glance over at Arrow, who was still covered in snow from his trek.

Morbid as it was, it was all in good fun. Arrow rolled his eyes and grinned back. Mika had left a second glass of whiskey on Arrow's throne to welcome him home. Arrow playfully cuffed Mika upside the head as he passed by, to which Mika stuck out a leg to trip him.

The Hall was empty aside from them. They were free to be the most unsupervised, unprofessional, unfiltered versions of themselves for a few hours. Arrow peeled off his coat and shook it roughly, sending drops of water and ice chips flying all around.

"Good trip?" Mika asked, while passive-aggressively wiping some of that wintery mess off his face.

"About what you'd expect." Arrow shrugged. "Had a good visit with General Rojas. The problem ran a bit deeper than we realized. If Tanish Eul couldn't even keep his operation a secret in a world before the technology boom; I don't know why Errick Moraine expected to yield better results."

"Did you at least get to try the casino before you busted him?"

"Of course I did. Very fine establishment. Too bad it'll be shut down. We pulled Hildegard and Irve in as backup. Between the three of them plus their apprentices, I think they'll have it all sorted within a month or so."

"And you took their word for it?"

"What was I supposed to do? Stay around and micromanage them? You're the one who asked that I make it back here before you trod off on your next adventure. Gods forbid there's only one Prince in the mountain during a quiet few years."

"I know, I know." Mika sighed, raking a hand through his hair. "If it was just me I wouldn't bother. But when it's Paris…"

Arrow picked up his whiskey glass, sank wearily into his throne, and took a long drink. He paused when his glass was half empty. "It's alright. I wouldn't feel right leaving him alone either. No matter what he says."

"Not to mention Gracie would hold a grudge if Uncle A didn't make a point of saying goodbye before she makes her debut into civilized society next week. She's the first meeting on your schedule tomorrow, by the way."

"Good. I've got a little something for her in my bag."

That caught Mika's attention. He sat upright in his throne, ears pricked, pupils probably dilated. "Is it candy?"

"Of course it's candy. I didn't become her favourite Uncle by bringing her books like everyone else." Arrow rolled his eyes and punctuated books with a scoff of disdain.

"I should check it over before you give—"

"Really, Mika? You're not above stealing candy from your own baby?"

"You know gods damn well I'm not."

Arrow's windburned face cracked into a warm grin. "I know. That's why I brought you your own bag."

They sat side-by-side for a long while. Catching up, drinking. Arrow munched on the tray of biscuits and cured meat the staff had prepared in advance of his return. And Mika partook in his annual-ish sugar fix from the brown paper bag of penny candy Arrow gifted him.

It wasn't as if either of them had ever needed liquor to speak openly with each other. They had no secrets. At least they hadn't, until that night in the bar with Kurda. It wasn't fear of Arrow's judgement or discretion that kept Mika holding his tongue about that. Talking about it would make it real. As long as nobody knew, he could shroud himself in denial that it even happened at all. Mika would take that to his grave, he knew that much for certain.

"If you think back to a simpler time, when all this was new and unprecedented… would you have anticipated that Kurda would be the one all too eager to get her the hell out of here? And that I…" Mika paused, wondering if he was letting the whiskey help a little too much. Arrow already knew exactly where he'd been going with that.

"I saw it coming a mile away." Arrow snorted, with a dismissive wave of one enormous hand. "Of course Smahlt's in his glory, knowing she's leaving this so-called godsforsaken place behind to broaden her horizons." He accented the last three words with mock pompousness as he rolled his eyes.

Mika arched an eyebrow and countered, "Well, would you have wanted your ragtag little band of orphans to spend their whole lives here?"

"Oh, gods, no. Of course kids need to be around other kids. And apparently education is important in this century. I just hate agreeing with Smahlt. But even a broken clock is right once a day, or however that goes." Arrow swirled his glass, watching the dark liquid form a tiny little whirlpool at the bottom before glancing over at Mika again. "As for you… you don't like many people. But when you do… to say you're protective is an understatement."

"Protective. That's generous of you." Mika snorted. "Most would go with controlling."

"That's what I meant by understatement. Point is, I know better than anyone the way you curate your little collection of worst-case scenarios in the back of your mind." Arrow rolled his eyes and twirled his pointer finger around the side of his head, an unnecessary but amusing attempt at visual effects. "I don't blame you for wanting to hold on. As long as you let go anyway."

"Hmm. I forgot how funny you are when you're profound."

"I'm right, though."

"Never said you weren't. And never said I wouldn't." Mika said. He paused to take another long drink, emptying his glass for the fourth time. "Of course I'll let go. I'll just hate it."

Arrow reached over and put his hand on Mika's shoulder. The distance between their thrones made for an awkward stretch but Mika appreciated the solidarity more than even his liquor-loosened lips would ever admit. Tough as he was, Arrow always was better at being outwardly affectionate. No wonder all it took was one wrong turn for him to wander out of the clan and into a cozy cottage full of love and humans.

After a while, Arrow took a deep breath and ventured with distinct resignation, "I suppose I owe you an answer to your question from earlier, aye?"

Mika grimaced and shook his head. "Sorry, A. It's been weighing on my mind for months. Now more than ever. But you wouldn't have known that, so I imagine it was rather jarring for you."

"It's alright." Said Arrow, managing a smile. "I struggled with my human family's natural mortality every waking moment."

"Mmhm. I figured there'd be no real solution for that. Short of, you know —" Mika held up his hand to illustrate his point with the five fingertip scars all vampires shared. Then he added the obligatory disclaimer, "But I wouldn't wish it on anyone who didn't want it."

Arrow nodded in agreement. He looked down at his drink again, seeming to mull over his thoughts. "When the thought of outliving them became too much, I'd remind myself how cold it got, sleeping outdoors with minimal shelter." He said at last. "And how my first drink of human blood tasted like I wasn't as ready as I thought I was. And how much it hurt when I shattered my femur and crawled the rest of the way to the mountain when I was seventy-five. And the stench in underground river when I took my turn going down to help clear the pile of corpses —"

"We really should come up with a better solution for that."

"— and then I'd look back at my children. I'd see them smiling, usually with bits of food still stuck to their faces because we always had enough. I'd go stoke the fireplace, because there was no reason for them to ever be cold. I'd listen to them dream out loud about their futures. About the places they wanted to travel, the skills they wanted to learn, the families they wanted to start someday. Except Arika. She wanted to live alone in a cottage full of stray cats and dogs. And she did it, too."

Arrow paused to regather himself. His throat suddenly seemed a little strained.

"Arika always was my favourite." Mika offered quietly. It was true. Arika — the middle one — was funny as hell and way smarter than any other kid her age. It was obvious even from the few times Mika visited. Arrow, on the other hand, would never declare a favourite child, probably not even in the privacy of his own mind. But Mika still took note of the way the corners of his mouth twitched in acknowledgement at that.

"Oh, Mika… I wish I could tell you'll get over the inevitability of it all." Said Arrow. His voice was raw and his nose was running. "But you won't. You'll make sure she has everything she needs to succeed, just as I did for mine. That part comes easily to a vampire, at least. As for the rest… I suppose it helps to think of it as the price we pay for the privilege it is to share a part of our life with them, fleeting as it is. That's the best advice I can offer you."

The wooden panels of Mika's armrest always had held up incredibly well to the way he clenched them when that simple, repetitive sensation was the only thing keeping him grounded. He tested them harshly while silently contemplating whether the other question he wanted to ask was too cruel.

"Would you have… turned your kids if they asked you to? Once they were grown, that is?"

He couldn't resist. He had to know.

Arrow exhaled a low, gravelly chuckle. "I knew you'd ask. Maybe not this soon, but then again your head is always three steps ahead of everyone else's. I always told myself I'd be strong if, gods forbid, them came to me as adults and asked to become a vampire. I could never stomach the thought of them suffering like we all have." Arrow paused. Nibbled on a biscuit. Got halfway through. Set it down as if he'd lost his appetite. "But then Sarah was taken from me too soon. Grief weakened me. I'm grateful the children never asked to follow in my footsteps… for I fear I wouldn't have been strong enough to turn them away after that."

Mika nodded slowly. It was all he could do now that his throat was swelling shut. He stood up from his throne, taking both their empty glasses back for another refill. They needed this intermission.

"They always told us, don't fall in love with humans; it can only end in heartbreak." Mika reminisced aloud once he settled back into his throne. It really was one the most universal truth of vampirism. Even those who didn't heed the warning still knew it to be true. Mika let the words hang in the air for a moment, then added, "I only ever considered that in the context of romance… so I figured I was safe."

Arrow raised an eyebrow, straight-faced and red-eyed. But that was definitely a twitch in the corner of his mouth as he pointed out drily, "That's because don't adopt human babies is too obvious to mention."

Mika met Arrow's gaze in the same flat manner."Well, that makes you two for two in unfathomable agony. Congratulations on beating me at the worst game in the world."

Arrow chuckled bitterly and raised his glass in a silent toast to that. Mika did the same.

"You need a hug or something?" Arrow inquired as an afterthought.

"Pass."

"Suit yourself. Let me know if you change your mind. I'll be around."

"I know you will." Mika sighed, lounging sideways in his throne once again and staring up into the glowing dome. "You always are. That's one of the things I appreciate about you."

"You too. You know why I chose you as my best friend?" Arrow asked. "It's not your savage wit or your violent honesty."

Mika raised one eyebrow in suspicion. "But those are my best features. What else could I possibly have going for me?"

"It's that you're the only person in the world I know without a doubt will outlive me."

Mika did a double-take and sat up in his throne, side-eyeing Arrow with shocked reproach. "…You don't know that at all."

Arrow shrugged his massive shoulders. "I know how vampires tend to go. And I know you. You're too tough to die early and too smart to die stupidly…" his voice cracked. "…so I'm trusting you not to fuck off and leave me here before I'm ready."

"Oh."

"I mean it. I know I'll never want to be with anyone, after Sarah."

Mika shook his head automatically. "Don't say—"

Arrow shut him down. "Never mind that. As far as having someone I can just talk to, about anything or everything… I need you for that. There's no one else."

Silence hung between them for a long while. Mika broke it eventually, in the only manner that came naturally to him: "…But have you ever actually asked anyone else?"

Arrow let out a sharp snort of laughter, and took a playful swing at Mika's head. Mika seized his wrist and twisted it.

"Ow. Fine. Be that way." Arrow grunted, pulling back and massaging the affected area. "I won't give you your other present."

"There's more candy?"

Arrow rolled his eyes, rummaged in his pack, and pulled out… something. Mika had no idea where to even start identifying it. It was a device seemingly of human make; bulky and crafted with plastic. It didn't look as sleek or modern as some of the devices Mika had seen Adiya Tahri used in their meeting last year, but it was definitely too advanced to be here in Vampire Mountain.

Arrow pressed a button. The screen of the thing lit up and it emitted a soft beeping sound. Mika reached out and took it in his hands, examining it from every angle. "Is this…?"

"A communication device that's supposed to work anywhere on earth? Gods, I sure hope so. Otherwise we stole the wrong thing from that army base out on the northern coast."

Mika shot Arrow a reproachful look. Even though he was starting to pick up on the intent behind the gift, he still couldn't help himself: "You stole this?"

"Gods, no. Have you met me?" Arrow scoffed, shaking his head. "Can't move with stealth to save my life. I delegated it to one of my favourite Generals. Rojas has never let me down. We were in the area anyway. Now the little one has a way of keeping in touch, no matter where she goes. You can take it with you if you want, but probably smarter to leave it here in the Hall. If you're not around, whoever picks it up can mindlink with you. Just thought it'd… you know… help."

Mika stared down at the device — the telephone, it was a telephone — while trying and failing again and again to swallow past the scorching lump in his throat.

"Well? Will it help?" Arrow pressed. He was exuding undeniable smugness; awaiting the praise he knew he'd earned.

Mika nodded slowly. Once he gathered his composure sufficiently, he'd stand up and be the one to initiate the hug for the first time in years. Then, knowing he'd just been handed a literal solution to his greatest fear — what if something happens and she needs to talk to one of us and she can't?! — he'd retire to bed and enjoy the first halfway-peaceful sleep he'd had in weeks.

THREE DAYS TIL SCHOOL

KURDA

It had always been a complicated dance along the finest of lines; influencing his apprentices without directly telling them what to think and how to feel. Of course Kurda wanted them to be pacifists. He wanted everyone to be pacifist. Imagine how easy everything would be if we were all pacifists!

But it doesn't work like that. The trick involves no trickery at all. He 'raised' them to think for themselves. To be rational. Logical. Smart. That way, they could figure it out for themselves that all this fighting was stupid and unnecessary. Kurda knew he'd succeeded in that regard — to varying degrees — with the four apprentices. Out of all of them, it was Cyrus with whom Kurda's methodology had resonated the deepest. And yet the exact depth of Cyrus's commitment didn't fully register until tonight.

Kurda was thoroughly cocooned in a blanket in Gracie's reading nook. Three more days. She was curled up in his arms, weary from a long day of bouncing off the walls with excitement. She was more asleep than awake, but she still giggled softly when Kurda applied his signature voice acting skills to the storybook dialogue.

He paid little attention to the familiar sound of Mika arriving through the door to his bedroom. Tonight was still Kurda's day with Gracie, and Mika would continue to respect the schedule. Or so Kurda assumed. He rearranged his face into a scathing glare — he'd been practicing — as Mika appeared in the doorway that separated his portion of the suite from Gracie's.

To Kurda's dismay, the glare didn't even seem to register with Mika. Maybe Kurda wasn't as good as he thought.

"You should go to the infirmary." Mika informed Kurda bluntly, without so much as a shred of preamble. "Your former apprentice was taken up earlier tonight. Training incident. Vanez was telling me about it while I was polishing my swords in the armoury."

Kurda sat bolt upright. The abruptness of the movement displaced Gracie from where she'd been so comfortably curled up, but Kurda paid no heed to her grumble. She was fine. Cyrus was hurt.

"Cyrus?! Why? What happened?"

Mika shrugged. "I only know what Vanez told me." He recounted, seeming neither concerned nor calloused by the turn of events. "And he didn't witness the whole affair…. only the end. I suggest you speak with Cyrus yourself."

Kurda stood up, but not before kissing Gracie's forehead. "I have to go check on Uncle Cyrus. I'm sorry to leave in the middle of a story, but I'm sure Daddy will pick up where I left off."

"Why?" Gracie asked. "What happened to Uncle Cyrus?"

"I don't know yet, Honey Bee. Sounds like he got in some sort of accident. So I have to leave right now."

Gracie sighed. Kurda got the impression she was more disappointed by the lack of information than she was at the interruption. She crawled back into her corner of the reading nook, adjusted her blankets, double-checked that the book was still open to the correct page.

Kurda paused as he passed through the doorway where Mika stood. "What else do you know?" Kurda pressed, one eyebrow raised. "You look… evasive."

"You're confusing secrecy with surprise. I thought Cyrus would have summoned you well before now." Mika replied. His voice remained clipped and cool, albeit not cold. "It seems that wasn't the case. So ends my involvement with the matter."

"Right." Said Kurda, nodding. There was no reason not to take Mika at face value in this particular moment. "Well… thank you."

"No need to thank me. I'm directly benefiting from the situation." Mika shrugged again. A tired smile broke over his face as Gracie patted the blanket beside her, inviting him to occupy the space Kurda left. While Mika didn't do the character voices for the storybook, he'd let her stay up too late. She enjoyed that just as much.

Of course, if push truly came to shove, Kurda would choose Gracie over Cyrus without hesitation. But Gracie had a second pair of strong, warm arms within which she could fall asleep without a worry in the world. She was the nucleus of an entire universe of security.

Cyrus only had Kurda.

So Kurda flew.

Part of him hoped he wouldn't find Cyrus in the infirmary. While it's true that Mika is more of a Houdini than most, no vampire willingly lingers there a second longer than necessary. If Cyrus had already moved on, it couldn't be that bad.

But there he was. Last hammock on the left. Kurda could see the bruising on his face from the other end of the long room. His heart sank, and a moment later his body did the same as he settled on the stool that had been left there by whatever medic had stitched up the gash on Cyrus's forehead.

"By the black blood of Harnon Oan, who did this to you?" Kurda croaked past the blazing lump in his throat.

Cyrus's eyelids fluttered open at the sound of his voice. To Kurda's dismay, he didn't appear relieved to see his long-time mentor had arrived. He seemed almost… humiliated.

"How'd you find out?" Cyrus murmured, running a hand over his blue-and-purpling face. His hand and arm were equally battered. He seemed unable to meet Kurda's eyes.

"Vampires talk! And for once, I'm thanking the gods they do!" Kurda snapped back, fear sharpening his tongue. "What happened?"

Cyrus couldn't turn his body over, but he continued to evade Kurda's gaze by tilting his head towards the cold stone wall beside the hammock. "What does it look like?" He mumbled. "I got into a fight. Is that not the purpose of the sporting halls?"

"Cyrus. Look at me."

For several moments, Cyrus just lay there in the hammock. Eyes on the wall. Chest slowly rising and falling with ragged breaths that implied broken ribs. Finally he did as he was told. And it was almost worse that way. His dark, bright eyes had gone dull and glassy from pain and remorse.

That was when Kurda knew exactly what happened. But intuition did nothing to soften the blow of each word as Cyrus finally spoke the truth aloud:

"Some idiot in my training group was running his mouth… saying all kinds of awful things." He forced through cracked lips. "…About you. I tried to ignore them. I swear I tried. But..." His voice trailed off.

An invisible wave of nausea crashed over Kurda. It took everything in him to keep himself composed. On the small table beside the hammock, there was a washcloth and a tin of balm. Kurda instinctively picked up both and began to dab at the stitched cut on Cyrus's forehead, even though it looked freshly cleaned. He did that in silence for several moments before he was able to speak.

"Who?"

"It doesn't matter."

"Of course it does! I'm going to demand justice for—"

"This is justice. This is how vampires settle disputes, is it not? We disagreed. And then we fought."

"Did you issue a combat challenge?"

"No."

"Did you accept a combat challenge that was issued to you?"

"…Yes."

Kurda's throat constricted again. "We've talked about this, Cyrus." He croaked, trying and failing to keep bitterness from tainting the words.

"I know."

"You owe me nothing. You are your own person, free to exist separately from me and my big reputation."

"I know."

"Surely they were just looking to elicit a reaction from—"

"I know!" Cyrus's voice was already unsteady, and he was barely able to choke out those two syllables a third time. Then he added so quietly Kurda could barely hear him, "It was Jakob Wiles."

Kurda fell silent again. The name didn't mean much to him, but he committed it to memory and said no more about it. He could see Cyrus's mind racing behind his pain-darkened eyes. There was more yet he needed to say. Kurda didn't rush him. For several long minutes, the only sound in the room was that of the water dripping back into the bowl when Kurda periodically re-soaked and wrung the washcloth.

When Cyrus did find his voice again, it was so steady it didn't even occur to Kurda to question him:

"I'm quitting the training program. I don't want to be a General. I want to travel with you again."

"I understand completely." Kurda told him quietly. "You will always be welcome wherever I go."

Cyrus's stiff form went limp with relief. "That's it?"

"Of course it is. Why should I question whether or not you know what's best for you?"

"I… I guess. Thank you."

"No. Thank you for defending my name." Said Kurda gravely. "Whether I wanted you to do so or not —and I didn't — the intention is worth something. I'm proud of your strength."

"Strength? Hah!" Cyrus wheezed, accidentally splattering Kurda's cheek with flecks of blood. "Look at me! I'd be dead if Master Blane hadn't intervened."

Unfazed, Kurda wiped the blood from his face with the cloth, while keeping his eyes trained on Cyrus. "You know damn well that is not the kind of strength that matters to me."

Cyrus managed a feeble nod. His exhaustion was palpable and his eyelids had begun to flutter.

"I'll sit here beside you while you sleep." Kurda added. "I won't leave you alone."

"You don't have to." Cyrus protested halfheartedly. "Really. I know your daughter's leaving soon. You should be with her."

"Shh. You're my family too."

SIX HOURS LATER

MIKA

Mika knew he'd fallen asleep in the reading nook before he even opened his eyes. It was a dead giveaway; the almost-too-soft texture of the child-sized blanket that covered about a quarter of him. As was the child-sized heartbeat in tandem with his own as Gracie slept in the crook of his arm. The final storybook of last night was still clutched in his hand; he could already tell a few pages had been crumpled when he'd drifted off. He still didn't open his eyes. That could wait. He wanted this to last forever. Her grand journey of life would take her well beyond the realms of Mika's control. But for now, she was warm and safe and he knew that for a fact because she was still right here.

Gracie hadn't stirred and Mika was well on his way back to sleep when he heard his bedroom door open, followed by a trail of feather-light footsteps and Kurda's voice whisper,

"Mika?"

"Hmm?" Mika opened his eyes with great trepidation and raised his head to see Kurda in the doorway that separated Gracie's room from his own.

Kurda answered Mika's noncommittal grunt with a swift flick of his head that said so much without a word at all. Mika felt rather proud of how well he executed his slow roll up and out of the blanket nest without waking Gracie up. Although it probably had more to do with how accomplished she was at sleeping. A true natural. She continued to slumber in peace (must be nice) as Mika slipped out of her room and shut the door behind him.

"This is a change." Kurda noted. His voice was a gravelly rasp that sounded jarring coming from him. "Me dragging my weary carcass around like a zombie while you're fresh as a daisy."

Mika's fireplace had burned out hours ago, but one of the torches was still going strong up on the wall. But the harshness in Kurda's face had nothing to do with the poor lighting. His eyes were rimmed red and underlined gray. Mika couldn't recall ever having seen him more strained than he did right now.

"I see. Not your best look." Said Mika, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against his mahogany wardrobe.

Kurda mirrored Mika's aloof body language; posing himself in a similar manner on the other side of the room. "I don't have the energy for this, Mika. I spent all night perched on a wooden stool in the infirmary while Cyrus tried to get some rest."

"Ah. He still alive, then?"

"Yes, he's still alive, you tactless bastard. No thanks to the absolute barbarians in his ex-training cohort."

"Ex? He's dropping out over a scuffle?"

"It wasn't a scuffle and you know it. It was targeted harassment."

"So he was attacked unprovoked?"

"Well, not exactly. He was baited into a verbal dispute, then challenged—"

"Ah. So he just lost the fight, then? Nothing dishonourable about that. Quitting, on the other hand…" Mika raised an eyebrow as righteous fire blazed to life behind Kurda's eyes.

"Jakob Wiles was speaking poorly and loudly about me and my beliefs. Now, I couldn't care less what people say to my face, much less behind my back. Cyrus isn't quite so hardened. He took the bait and paid dearly. Which was Wiles' intent from the start, so my intention is to make a case to have him dismissed from the Generalship training program."

"I wouldn't know this Jakob Wiles from a statue in the hallway, but I can tell you right now you've got nothing to build a case on." Mika replied. "Cyrus accepted the challenge, and lost. Regardless of intention, Wiles didn't break any rules."

True to Mika's prediction, Kurda seethed at that. "Your double-standard is repulsive. I can only imagine what you'd do to anyone who so much as looked at Gracie the wrong way—"

"Trust me, you don't want to know what I'd do." Mika cut him off with savage conviction.

Kurda narrowed his eyes and studied him for a moment before responding. "Actually, my pacifism ends where my daughter's safety begins. So believe it or not, I'd wholeheartedly support you in whatever depraved act of violence you'd commit in her name. I'd even help you hide the body."

"There wouldn't be a body left to hide. But thanks."

"I'm not done and this isn't about Gracie. You've just proved my point, though. You would burn the whole world down to keep her warm! Yet you can't even be bothered to—"

"I chose to bear the responsibility of her wellbeing! She isn't one of us. She didn't ask to be here. To expect her to live like us would be ludicrous and cruel."

The corner of Kurda's mouth lifted into a dangerous smile. "So you admit our ways are ludicrous and cruel."

The words hit a nerve. Mika's temper flared faster than he could rein it in. "This isn't supposed to be easy, Kurda! Not one single fucking vampire in history has ever claimed that to be so."

"I'm well aware of that! What continues to escape me is why we settle for living this way!" Kurda hurled each word across the room like a spear, each trained upon the gaps in Mika's defences he'd pinpointed well before Gracie's time on this earth began.

"You're the only one settling for anything." Mika fired back. "I'm proud of everything my clan is and continues to be, and I'll protect it til my dying breath, as will my colleagues and almost all of my Generals, save for one fucking anomaly—"

"One fucking anomaly. Wow, Mika. That might be the highest compliment anyone's ever paid me."

Mika didn't know when he'd closed the distance between them. Suddenly they were face to face, less than a foot of space between them.

"Trust me, it's not." Mika growled out through gritted teeth.

Electric ferocity radiated from Kurda's body. Mika could feel it on his own skin, in his very bones as Kurda spat back, "You don't get to decide what it is to me!"

Mika didn't know what he was going to say to that but trusted his instincts to figure it out, until —

"Daddy?"

Gracie's voice hit Mika like an avalanche. Small and soft as it was, he flinched at the sound of it and watched Kurda do the same. There she was, standing in the doorway, eyes apprehensive and face upturned as she glanced back and forth between them.

Ceasefire. The word didn't even have to be spoken through telepathy, much less out loud. They turned in synchrony as they realized too late they'd been shouting.

Kurda was the first to recompose himself, but it was a hasty attempt and he didn't manage to smooth out the tension in his posture as he greeted her. "Good morning, Honey Bee!"

"Hey, Princess." Mika added in an unconvincing rasp, heart still racing. "Sorry if we woke you."

She cut straight to the point, eyebrow raised. "Why are you fighting?"

Why are you so fucking astute? You're five.

"Well, we weren't fighting, exactly." Kurda lied through his pearly whites as he gathered her into his arms and sat upon Mika's desk like he owned it. "We just… had a little argument about something we both feel quite strongly about. And sometimes when people disagree, they get a little loud. Remember when I tried to get you started on cursive writing last month, and you thought that was so preposterous I decided to just leave it to your teachers?"

"Ohh." Said Gracie. She seemed reassured. That was a good sign. "Were you trying to make Daddy do cursed writing?"

"Not exactly."

"But you still love each other, right?"

"Of course." Kurda murmured, far too convincingly. "We're a family."

It was the only answer appropriate for the question. Still, Mika's jaw clenched. Likewise, the strain in Kurda's voice gave away how bitter those words tasted.

Kurda went on to steer the conversation to safer ground. Mika, under no pretence that he'd be going back to sleep, brewed a coffee for himself, a lukewarm herbal tea for Gracie because she liked to be included, and a second coffee for Kurda which he set on the desk next to the Gracie's teacup. The gesture was simply another brick in the wall of lies they'd painstakingly built to protect her.

She was worth it.