HAPPY NEW YEAR!

Heheh i really like the first half of this one ;) Continues on from The Caves II. Enjoy ~

Bandages

Sophia's P.O.V.

Senior Year - Early January - 17 years old

It was the first time I'd ever been in Damon's room at the Academy. We were supposed to meet in the gym's stock room so he could change my bandages. There was one particular injury I didn't want anyone to see. To be honest, I preferred he didn't see it either but he was a witness to it getting carved into my flesh.

It turned out that the gym was preoccupied with a few too many prying eyes so he discreetly slipped me his key card to get into his room. He had a bunch of first aid kits stashed away in here apparently.

I drank everything in about him based on his personal belongings and items scattered. There was an emerald green hoodie thrown over the head of an armchair. Two photo frames sat on his dresser. One photo was of him and another guy. They were both young in the picture, probably around sixteen years old. The two had their arms around each other and were grinning broadly. The other guy had sandy blonde hair but the same sharp blue eyes as Damon. That was a deadset giveaway. This blonde boy was his twin. Dante.

In the second photo frame, Damon and Dante were kids, perhaps toddlers. They were grinning ear-to-ear at each other. It was that same cheeky grin Damon tossed out so often. Hovering above the mischievous children was a woman and a man who were smiling down at the boys. I presumed this was Damon's parents. I knew his father died when Damon was little.

His mother had the same sandy blonde hair as Dante, and his father, that dark Ozera hair which Damon inherited. Both parents had blue eyes though they were vastly different shades of blue. Dante and Damon definitely inherited the mother's aqua-blue eyes. The Ozeras often had pale blue eyes, like ice.

The doorknob jiggled, startling me out of my observation. I didn't have enough time to scatter away from his dresser so Damon walked in catching me red-handed looking at his photo frames.

He shut the door quickly—considering I wasn't supposed to be in here—and shed his coat. "Ah, yes. The infamous Petrov-slash-Ozera clan."

"I've never seen photos of your family before," I said quietly.

"My dead family," he corrected.

I shot him a look. "Damon."

"Sorry, sorry." He held his hands up a placating truce gesture. Humour was his way of hiding the hurt behind it all. I know he missed his family terribly. If I lost mine, I'd be a wreck forever.

He beckoned me to sit on the armchair whilst he grabbed a kit and some bandages. "Show me the arm."

I pushed up the sleeve of my hoodie and held out my arm. His gloved hands held me by my wrist and hand while he worked to unwrap the bandages. We didn't speak as he cleaned my arm and wrapped fresh bandages. It was a fairly quick process and in a few days I think it'd be mostly cleared.

"Thanks." I pushed my sleeve back down and Damon tossed the gloves and scraps into a nearby bin.

When he sat back down across from me, one of his hands grabbed mine and the other came up to my cheek. He brushed some hair back and weaved his fingers slowly through my hair. His thumb brushed against my cheek ever so softly.

I almost shuddered at his touch. He was ridiculously warm. Not hot. Just very, very warm, it made me want to rug up in blankets or heat up by a blazing fire.

"You okay?" he asked me gently, still grazing my cheek.

Swallowing, I nodded. "Yeah," I said, voice thick. "Are you?"

His lips curled into a tiny half-smile. "Yeah."

For a moment, or two, I got lost in him. In the soft caress of his thumb and his fingers tangled in my hair. His lips. His eyes and how they regarded me with concern and care. The look in his eyes made me flush all over. His eyes flicked over me, lingering on my lips. I was gazing at his lips too. They were perfectly shaped and full and sexy and wh—

Don't go there, Sophia, I scolded myself. I couldn't think of him in that way! He's my mentor. My friend. Why the hell am I thinking about his lips? Shocked at my traitorous thoughts, I instantly cast those scandalous thoughts out.

"I should go." I retracted from him and only then did I realise how close we'd been. We could've been a second away from kissing. And if someone had walked in, it would definitely have looked like something was going on.

He released me and stood up, shaking off whatever he might've felt in that moment too. His face changed and appeared more guarded opposed to a few seconds ago.

I cleared my throat. "Thanks for fixing up my arm."

He nodded. "Let me check the coast is clear." He moved towards the door first and peeked out. He waved his hand, gesturing for me to come out. "See you later, BK."

I slipped out the door and paced down the hallway speedily, praying I didn't run into anyone. I turned down the stairwell and only then caught my breath. I made my escape smoothly but my heart was racing with anticipation over what nearly happened. I replayed the moment over and over in my head until I reached my dorm.

Damon's hands were in my hair, touching my hand, my cheek! We'd been staring at each other. I'd been contemplating the touch of his lips. What was I doing? He's a teacher. I'm a student. This is so not allowed.

My heart continued pounding in my chest and my mind kept chanting Damon, Damon, Damon.

Why am I thinking so much about Damon? It was just a stupid moment. Nothing to get caught up in! We were simply making sure the other was okay in light of the horrific incidents we endured.

Remember when he cuddled you in bed, a voice kindly decided to remind me.

"Shut up," I groaned to my internal voice.

What? There's nothing wrong with enjoying a burly, sexy man snuggling up to you. This voice was a pain in the ass.

I can't think of him like that. He's six years older than me and my mentor. And he was only doing that to warm me up and calm me down, I told myself.

Sure, keep telling yourself that. Isn't this how your parents got together? And your father is seven years older than your mother.

"Smart-ass," I gritted. I slammed the door of my dorm room shut, rattling the windows. I hoped if I slammed it hard enough, that internal voice would stay out too.

Third Person P.O.V.

It had been a little over two weeks since the attack on the academy had occurred. Classes were starting to return to normal schedule after a brief break; families were constantly being reassured that the academy was safe and new wards were being put in weekly.

And the Queen had arrived on campus.

It was partly for her duty as the monarch, to check in on her people following a shocking event, but also to see her own children and her best friend and her children, now that Sophia had been returned to the safety of the wards. The guardians eventually deemed it safe for the Queen to travel to the academy and stay for a number of days but protection and security was extremely, extremely heavy.

Lissa gave Rose the biggest hug upon her arrival. Rose and Dimitri had waited at the plane's landing area for Lissa's arrival and upon seeing that platinum blonde hair blow waved to perfection and swishing around her, Rose felt like all parts of her world were finally back.

"Thank God," Lissa breathed as she squeezed her best friend.

"I missed you, Liss," said Rose.

"I missed you too, all of you." The pair drew apart but Lissa's fingers over Rose's shoulders remained. Lissa's grip was firm and she met Rose's eye with concern and meaningfulness. "You okay?"

Rose brushed away a strand of her hair and tucked it behind her ear. Her eyes flicked to Dimitri for a moment then back to Lissa. "Yeah, we are." The lifetime besties began walking beside each other, the royal guard forming a circle around Her Majesty, and Christian had finally joined the group too with Dimitri taking up position as his near guard. After Rose quickly greeted him, she continued her conversation with Lissa.

"We're okay," repeated Rose. "Sophia's not."

Lissa passed Rose a sympathetic look. "I figured as much. Do you want me to try talk to her?"

Rose made a sound in her throat. "You can try. She's barely speaking to anyone," she added.

Lissa gave Rose a knowing glance. "Sounds like someone we both know." As one, their eyes danced over to the tall, Russian dhampir lurking behind them and his charge. They were referring to both their husbands. Christian and Dimitri were notorious in their own right for not saying much about the things that truly bothered them. Christian liked to use sarcasm as his defence mechanism to shield from the hurt. Whereas, Dimitri was simply stoically silent. No one—except Rose—could determine what was underneath the surface.

Dimitri rose a curious eyebrow at Rose but she shook her head and turned back around.

"She's trying to be brave," continued Rose in a hushed whisper. "She's like me in that sense, but…I wish she would just confide in someone. Anyone. I don't even know the full story of what happened to her these past two weeks."

"She not talking to Damon either?" asked Lissa.

Rose shrugged. "I don't know." Rose said nothing else on the matter and was so quiet, it forced Lissa to keep talking.

"Are you still worried about the two of them?"

There was no response for some time. Rose kept scanning the area with her observant guardian eyes before finally saying, "I don't know. I don't think so?"

"Should I use my aura-reading superpowers to find out?" Lissa mused.

Rose half-rolled her eyes at Lissa's lame attempt at a joke and knew that she was really kidding and wouldn't do that to Sophia. Lissa also wasn't sure if she wanted to know the answer to their question regarding Sophia and Damon's relationship. If she knew what was going on, she would feel compelled to tell Rose—because she wouldn't want to hide anything like that from Rose—and she thought that it should be up to Sophia if anything was going on.

The royal guard squad followed Her Majesty into her suite where she always stayed on campus and sent for her and Rose's children. It was nearly sunset, so campus would be waking up soon and the school day would be starting. Lissa and Christian planned to have a little family get-together breakfast with their kids, Rose and Dimitri and their kids.

Sophia's P.O.V.

I halted in my tracks, nearly stumbling over my own feet at my own abrupt stop. It seemed I have a little audience in my private mentor session today. Mom, Dad, Aunt Lissa and Nadya and Sacha were waiting for me. The adults were talking amongst themselves and Nadya and Sacha were grilling my mentor. They were speaking in low, hushed tones that I couldn't hear over Mom and Aunt Lissa's chatter. Nadya and Sacha's presence wasn't all that surprising as they dropped in from time to time to learn from Damon.

I rose an eyebrow at my parents. "What are you lot doing here? The timetable says Guardian Petrov and Milana Belikov, not Milana Belikov and family," I said, irritated at their presence.

Mom formed a humorous smile first while Aunt Lissa formed more of an apologetic one.

"Sorry baby, we just wanted to see you guys practice today," replied Mom. She rubbed her palms and squeezed them together in between her knees, presumably to warm them up from the chill outside.

"Mhmm…any particular reason why? Or is getting an additional two marks and a zvezda on the back of my neck this week not proof enough he's a good teacher?" I nodded my head toward my mentor who was patiently and calmly waiting.

"It's not about that," said Mom quickly.

"We know he's a good teacher," added Dad almost simultaneously.

I put my hands on my hips. "Then what is it about?" I demanded.

Mom held her hands up in defence. "Whoa, geez, we just wanted to sit in for today. That's all. No ulterior motive. Promise."

I eyed my mother for one more second before deciding she was really telling the truth. I clamped my lips shut and nodded.

"So, Guardian Petrov," I said, turning to my mentor. "What are we doing today?"

"You," he corrected first, "are you going to learn to use a stake in your left hand." He tossed a practice stake towards me, it cartwheeled in the air and I caught it by the hilt—with my left hand.

"You favour your right too much—as we all do with our dominant hand—but after last week, I'm sure you gained enough insight into why you should master your non-dominant hand just as well."

I clenched my jaw. I didn't like him referring to our kidnapping as "gaining enough insight" even though that statement was partially correct in its own right. But I refrained from scowling because I understood he was talking in code in front of my family. I also couldn't use my right arm at the moment, the cuts on it were far too deep and painful to practice with. And since I hadn't told the school officials or nurse what really happened there, I'd been cleared earlier than expected to return to practice.

"Thirty minutes with the dummies first," Damon said as he rolled a fake Strigoi dummy into the middle of the room. "Then thirty minutes you and me sparring."

"Okay," I said uneasily and unzipped my outer hoodie. I was wearing a black long sleeve shirt underneath and black training pants. My usual casual attire.

As I held the stake in my left hand, I tossed it in the air a few times as a mini warm-up. "This is so odd," I remarked.

Damon gave me a wry smile. "You'll get used to it soon."

We said no more and I spent the next half an hour fighting and hacking the dummy. I knew my parents were making their own observations and assessments to critique me later on so I gave it my all, as I always do.

When the first half of the session was up, Damon called me to a stop and we set up for our three rounds of sparring. Each lasted eight minutes long with a two minute break in between each round. We wrapped our hands and Damon was playing Strigoi. My job was to "kill" him.

Once again, neither of us spoke much while we trained and even in the pauses in between. I considered how this might feel for Damon: the Queen watching him train a student. He never faltered or changed his manner in how he regarded or treated me. It was the same as every other time and I slightly wondered if he even cared that the Queen was present. Maybe it didn't worry him in the slightest. After all, this was his area of expertise. Not hers. Maybe he was more concerned over my parents thoughts than Aunt Lissa's.

My main concern was trying to spar—and win—using my non-dominant hand and shielding my right away from everyone else in the room. I noticed that Damon attempted to steer clear of that arm too but it didn't always work in our favour. So much so that I did one move to try take him down in our second round and ended up twisting my right arm in an odd direction. To anybody else, it wouldn't have looked too bad or caused much of a pain. To me, it hurt. A lot. I cried out in pain and nearly collapsed to the floor, cradling my limb.

Damon stopped immediately and crouched down before me, eyes full of concern. "Soph, you okay?" My family and Aunt Lissa stood up and rushed over straight away too.

"What happened?" Mom dropped to the floor in a panic. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, just sprained my arm," I muttered, looking away from her.

Damon's eyes went wide. "Soph." Everyone's gaze jerked to him for a moment. The disbelief in his voice was so sharp and clear—in fact, I had never heard him use that tone on me or anyone…ever.

"Don't worry about it, I'm good. Let's keep going," I tried to scramble to my feet but my mentor's glare pinned me to the floor.

"Stay there," ordered Damon. He walked off from the padding we were sparring on. He ripped off his hand wraps and tossed them in the trash and reached into the supply closet for the first aid kit. I groaned internally. I knew it'd come to this. He was going to check my arm out. In front of everyone.

All I could do in the meantime was make a sarcastic comment. "Well, since I'd probably have to fight off four people to leave this room, it looks like I'm not going anywhere."

Damon rolled his eyes and returned with the first aid kit. My family just watched this entire thing play out but Mom and Dad kept goading me about my arm.

"Did this happen while—" Mom started.

"I'm just a little sore, okay?" I interrupted, not allowing her to finish her question. "I'm not going to die over it."

"It seems more painful than a simple sprain, Mila," noted Dad, crossing his arms imposingly. "Maybe we should take you to the infirmary."

"No!" I snapped a bit too meanly. "I'm fine. Damon will check it out and fix it quicker than the nurse anyway."

Aunt Lissa was suspiciously quiet throughout this whole debacle but I did not miss her eyes dart between my mentor and me several times. Her face didn't give away anything other than politeness and softness. However, I couldn't put my finger on what she was truly doing. Was she reading our auras? Or simply observing the way we interact with each other?

"Show me the arm," Damon sat down on the floor with me and laid out the first aid kit before us. He slipped on the blue medical gloves and pulled out a roll of bandages and a pair of scissors which he sterilised first.

I tried to argue with him but I think he was going to check me out regardless. It's what any other mentor would do. "It's fine, I will put some ice on it after practice."

He stared at me. Impatiently waiting.

With a heavy sigh, I held out my forearm and pushed the sleeve up revealing the already bandaged arm. It was soaked with fresh blood.

Mom gasped beside me. "Soph," she began tightly. "What the hell's happened?"

I didn't meet her shocked face. I looked away from my whole family but I could still feel all of their heavy stares on me. Especially Dad's intense scrutiny.

Damon remained pretty relaxed in the meantime and he unravelled all my bandages that he had neatly done up. My entire arm was a mess of cuts and blood that at first no one could really see where the blood was coming from exactly. Until Damon wiped it all away with a cool wash cloth and the letters were clear as day.

"Oh my fucking goodness." Nadya swore rapidly. She was the first to grab my arm and read it properly.

"What is that?" my mother asked harshly.

"A gift," I said bitterly. "From our Strigoi captors."

I continued looking down at the ground. I didn't want to see their faces and the sadness etched on it. I didn't want to see the hurt and anger kindling in my father's face that was no doubt there. And I didn't want to see my mother's bunched up forehead that said her stake had an appointment with a Strigoi's heart.

The only person I could maybe bear to look at right now was Damon but nonetheless, I still didn't look up.

Mom and Dad were expressing their expletives at 'Strigoi-born whore'.

"Milana, why didn't you tell us about this?" asked Dad.

He didn't get a response because one, I didn't give him one, and two, the cuts were bleeding profusely from my workout. So much so that Aunt Lissa gasped and reached out suddenly, her palm came over my arm. The magic instantly flowed into me. I became hot then cold then hot again. It was over so quickly but we all watched in amazement as the wounds closed up, the blood receded back into my veins and the words and any scars were…gone. My skin was tan and smooth and there was no evidence of anything ever happening to it. I was freed from the pain.

I stretched my hand out and flipped my arm each way as I gazed at the healing.

"Gone," Aunt Lissa said softly, brushing my cheek with her fingertips. "Like it was never there." Her gentle fingers stopped their grazing and she patted my cheek before lowering her hand.

I was still looking down and swallowing lumps in my throat and tears in my eyes. Aunt Lissa must've been able to tell there was turmoil building inside me or what I was thinking on some level because she clasped my hand and squeezed it. "You are not born from Strigois. Strigois are made. You were born from spirit."

I jerked my gaze up at her. "I'm still an abnormality."

Aunt Lissa's response was instant. "No, you're not." Nadya and Sacha shifted beside me. "Your parents say this to you three all the time: you're miracles."

Aunt Lissa squeezed my hand again and without realising it, I'd dropped my head to the floor once more. She curled a finger under my chin and raised it. "You've always been very good at keeping your head high, so continue doing that and take your differences in stride." She patted my cheek once more and stood up.

"Class dismissed," Aunt Lissa said with a wink and retreated to the sidelines.

"She's right, you know," said Mom, brushing a strand of my hair back. She kissed my head and then followed Aunt Lissa with Nadya and Sacha.

Damon busied himself with packing up all of our crap and I finally stood up, which left me with Dad alone.

"I wish you would have told us what really happened out there, Mila," he said.

"I know."

He opened his arms and I stepped into them. He folded his long arms around me and pressed a kiss to the crown of my head, like Mom did.

"Ty i tvoi brat'ya i sestry navsegda ostanetes' nashimi malen'kimi chudesami." You and your siblings are forever our little miracles, was what he murmured in Russian.

I hummed in thanks.

"Come on," Dad squeezed my shoulder and led us to the sidelines where my stuff was. While I packed up my bag and slipped on my jacket, Dad leaned against the wall and remarked, "You made a wise choice." I looked up at him with a questioning expression. He tilted his head to where Damon was rummaging in the supply closet again. "Asking him to be your mentor."

"I owe him my life, Dad. If he wasn't with me when we got taken…I don't know what would've happened to me. He got us out of that horrid place," I told him quietly, lost in thought about our captivity.

Dad listened but he said nothing for a while. When he did respond, all he said was, "You held your own too, Mila."

Thanks for reading!

P.S. Sorry if I got the Russian wrong, I just use Google Translate of course!