Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Finn Mikaelson woke with a heaviness in his heart and a fog lingering in his mind. Centuries of confinement had left him with a profound sadness that seemed to seep into every fiber of his being. For a fleeting moment, he wished he could return to the peaceful oblivion of his slumber. With a shake of his head, he banished the despairing thoughts, knowing he had to face the reality of his awakening.
"You're stronger than this, my dear Finn," a soothing, maternal voice echoed in his mind, gentle and reassuring. It was a voice that had guided him through childhood and beyond, now returning to offer comfort in his newfound awakening.
In a blur of vampiric speed, Finn rose from his bed and swiftly tidied his room. It was a task he'd perfected over the centuries, a routine that brought a semblance of order to his existence. Despite his disdain for his vampiric nature, he couldn't deny the efficiency it afforded him.
"Let's start the day, my love," the voice suggested warmly, its tone like a gentle caress. Finn nodded silently, allowing the maternal presence to lead him through the morning rituals. He entered the bathroom adjoining his room, where the voice encouraged him to take a soothing shower, washing away the physical and emotional residue of his long slumber.
As he stepped out, the voice helped him select a suitably elegant outfit-a crisp white shirt paired with tailored black trousers and a sleek jacket, reminiscent of his noble upbringing. "You look splendid, dear Finn," the voice affirmed as Finn examined himself in the mirror, adjusting his attire with a practiced hand.
"Time to brush those fangs," the voice chimed in as Finn moved to the sink. He brushed his teeth methodically, the rhythmic motion familiar yet oddly comforting under the gentle guidance. "Well done, my dear," the voice praised softly as he finished, his reflection now clear-eyed and determined.
Descending the staircase, Finn found his siblings gathered in the living area. Kol and Rebekah were sipping blood bags, while Elijah stood with his customary grace. Finn's gaze swept over them with a mixture of detachment and longing. Despite their familial bond, he felt a profound separation-a gap widened by centuries of solitude and betrayal.
"Welcome back, my brother," Elijah greeted warmly, offering Finn a blood bag. Finn accepted it with a curt nod, his expression unreadable.
Kol, always curious and slightly mischievous, couldn't help but voice the question on everyone's mind. "Finn, how is it that you seem to be managing so well after all this time? You've adapted quickly to the modern world."
Finn's expression remained cool and distant as he regarded his siblings. "Centuries of solitude tend to teach one self-reliance," he replied evenly, the maternal voice's guidance echoing subtly in his mind.
Rebekah, ever the empathetic sister, reached out tentatively. "But Finn, we're here for you now. You don't have to face this alone."
Finn's gaze hardened as he met Rebekah's eyes, his tone flat and detached. "I appreciate the sentiment, Rebekah," he said, his voice devoid of warmth. "But I have grown accustomed to solitude."
