As the party comes close to its closure, more and more people are intrigued on what's about to come.
It wasn't spoken out loud.
It didn't need to be.
The way people moved said enough.
Conversations shortened without warning. Laughter lingered for a second too long, then fell flat. Attention slipped mid-sentence, drifting past whoever was speaking and settling somewhere else.
Not on the drinks nor on the music but on the room. On who were making a scene after Lucien's speech.
Groups that had been scattered earlier no longer felt random.
Positions mattered. Who stood beside who mattered even more. The room wasn't mingling anymore.
It was arranging itself.
Some moved closer to the center without saying why. Others stayed back on purpose.
Watching and waiting.
And everyone here understood that.
Theodore knew. He was already feeling it. The shift wasn't in the noise or the crowd, but in where everything seemed to be heading, like the entire room had quietly agreed on a direction.
And somehow, he had already been placed right in the middle of it.
Across the hall, a cluster in pale silver accents held their ground like they had no intention of adjusting for anyone.
Opposite them, another group stayed further back, quieter, speaking only when approached but never ignored long enough to be dismissed.
Between those two, the rest of the room began to shift.
Not suddenly and not all at once but unmistakably.
People were no longer just standing where they had been. They were choosing proximity. Choosing distance. Choosing who to be seen near, and who to avoid entirely.
And in that slow redistribution,
Theodore felt it turn toward him.
All at once. Like attention had finally found its direction.
Aurora shifted closer without thinking, her posture tightening beside him.
Theodore didn't look at her as he was so focused on watching the room.
Conversations broke in different places than before.
Not suddenly. Just earlier than they should have.
People stopped speaking mid-thought, eyes drifting away as if the next sentence no longer mattered. Groups that had been loose a moment ago now held their spacing more carefully.
Theodore noticed it in how movement changed first. Not on where people were going but on where they weren't.
Gaps stayed open longer. Paths cleared without anyone announcing them.
Theodore stayed still amidst all of this but the room didn't treat him like the same old frail boy of the D'Arcels.
The first approach didn't come from the center. It came from the edge.
The woman who stepped forward didn't present herself like someone entering a conversation. She entered like she already belonged to the outcome of it.
Black attire. Simple. Unornamented. Not for restraint, but for certainty.
Beside her stood a girl. Still. Composed. Watching without shifting her focus. Not scanning the room. Watching Theodore with intensity.
Charlotte spoke first.
"Eleanor."
The woman inclined her head.
"Charlotte."
Aurora blinked.
"…You know her?"
"Hush," Charlotte said without breaking her eyesight towards Eleanor.
Eleanor's attention moved past her without hesitation.
It settled on Theodore and stayed there.
"This must be him. You've changed since I first saw you back at your mother's funeral."
Theodore didn't move.
"…Yeah."
A faint expression passed over Eleanor's face. Not quite a smile, but close enough to feel deliberate.
"Good," she said. "You answer directly."
A pause.
Then she matched it.
"My house, Beaumonts, is proposing a union."
Theodore recognizes the name. Among the big families in the party present, The Villenave, The Lefebvre, and the many had already come to show their support for the other heirs.
Of course, they weren't here for Theodore. They were here for the others. Whatever Lucien had become didn't change what had already been decided about him. The Bareblood line in his blood was enough to push him out of their attention before he even stood in the room.
Now, what surprises Theodore was the Beaumonts. One of the few families who are regarded as one of the lowest in the line. With a widow in charge of the family, people had thoroughly given up with them. Leaving only a few loyal servants and it's descendants.
Theodore's gaze shifted slightly to the girl beside her. She hadn't reacted. Hadn't looked away. Hadn't acknowledged surprise or hesitation.
"A marriage?" Charlotte said, stepping closer and resting a hand lightly on Theodore's shoulder.
"Political," Eleanor corrected. "If the two get to fall for each other, better."
"That's not better," Aurora muttered.
"It's not meant to be." Eleanor said simply.
Silence followed, not empty but contained, like the conversation had narrowed to its essential parts.
Theodore looked back at the girl as Charlotte and Eleanor talked.
"And you're fine with that?"
She met his gaze immediately.
"I don't need to be fine with it."
A pause.
"I need it to work."
Aurora let out a quiet breath.
"…That's worse."
The girl didn't look at her and continued.
"We don't really get to choose what we prefer," she continued. "We do what keeps us here."
Her voice stayed steady, like she'd already decided.
Theodore looked at the girl. She looked around his age. Maybe a year older. Taller, just enough that it showed when she stood beside him.
Dark hair, kept neat without trying too hard. Nothing elaborate in how she dressed either. Just clean, deliberate. Her features were still young. Not soft, not childish, but not finished either. It was the kind of face that hadn't settled yet. The kind that would, eventually. In a few years, maybe. And then it wouldn't change for a long time.
That was the part that lingered.
They were all still kids, in a way you could see if you looked long enough.
Even here. Even like this. But for vampires, that didn't last. Once it did—once they crossed into their twenties—that was it. That face stayed. Years stacking on top of something that stopped moving. The girl wasn't there yet. She was still in between. Just like the boy in front of her.
And she didn't look uncertain about it at all.
Her gaze met his without hesitation.
"Seraphine Beaumont. It's a pleasure to meet the young master of the D'Arcels," she said steadily and direct. Like this wasn't new to her. Like she'd already accepted what came with it.
Theodore frowned slightly. "…Why me and not the others?"
Seraphine didn't hesitate.
"You're the only one not already tied to someone," she said. "The others won't even look our way."
A small pause.
"We'll support you," she added. "With Ms. Charlotte. However we can."
It didn't sound harsh, and it wasn't softened either.
It was simply where he stood in this entire ordeal.
Eleanor continued without pause, interjecting herself from Theodore and Seraphine's conversation.
"Our house isn't in a position to be selective." Her gaze stayed on Theodore. "We don't need the strongest heir. We need one who will let us stay in this world."
A small pause then she continues.
"I'm sorry for putting you up with this young D'Arcel. Forcing my daughter is… a bit much."
It settled in, plain and unhidden.
Theodore didn't answer right away. Not because he didn't understand, but because he did. And putting all of that on someone their age felt like too much.
Charlotte shifted slightly beside him, not stepping in, just close enough to steady him.
Looking towards Theodore, she smiles, as if Charlotte wanted him to choose his own decision. Respecting whatever comes.
Taking in a deep breath, Theodore asks, calmly.
"…And if I lose?"
It came out quieter than before.
Eleanor's expression didn't change.
"Then we lose nothing we didn't already expect."
A small pause.
"Theodore, we're just asking for your hand. That's it. It doesn't have to be love. We'll still stand with you."
It landed differently, more like an honest attempt than anything else.
Charlotte finally spoke.
"If you're going to say yes, say it because you understand what you're agreeing to."
She wasn't pushing him or deciding for him, just making sure he understood what he was agreeing to.
Theodore let out a breath through his nose.
He already knew. That was the problem.
"Fine," he said. It wasn't loud. It didn't need to be. "I'll accept it."
The words sat heavier than he expected.
Eleanor smiled, small and restrained, enough to show it mattered.
"Thank you," she said.
"You don't need to win," she added, almost as an afterthought. "This alone is enough."
That eased something. And somehow made it worse at the same time.
Seraphine looked at him again. For a second, the composure slipped.
"…We'll make it work. Even if this is political, I'll still try my best," she shyly said.
She wasn't confident nor uncertain.
She had already decided to try.
Then she stepped back and Eleanor followed.
Both of them inclining their heads slightly—not as nobles, but as something closer to acknowledgment.
Then they turned.
Giving him space.
Seraphine glanced back once before they fully left.
A small smile.
And a brief lift of her hand.
A simple gesture.
Then she was gone with her.
The space around Theodore opened again.
He stood there for a moment.
Then—
Aurora let out a breath.
"You just got engaged," she muttered.
Emilia made a soft sound beside her. Not quite a laugh, more like a chuckle.
"That was fast."
Theodore rubbed the back of his neck slightly.
"It's not like that."
"Sure," Aurora scoffed. "Totally not like that."
There was no edge to it. Aurora was just teasing. Like a sister. Too normal for where they were.
"What if I don't really win?" he muttered.
Aurora bumped his shoulder lightly. "Then you don't win," she said.
"Doesn't mean you made the wrong call."
Theodore exhaled slowly.
"Yeah."
And for the first time since the conversation started—
He wasn't being pulled.
He had already stepped into it.
And now he had to see it through.