Legacies: The Mikaelson twins

11. A Celebration of Loss

When Hope and Alec woke, the golden afternoon light spilling through the window told them they had slept far later than planned. A quick glance at the clock confirmed it.

"Past lunch," Alec muttered, running a hand through his dark hair in frustration. "Damn it. We missed it."

Hope stretched languidly, rolling her shoulders to chase away the last traces of sleep. There was something effortless—almost predatory—in the way she moved as she crossed the room. At the small fridge tucked into the corner, she pulled open the door and retrieved a blood bag. Her eyes flashed a vibrant blue for a fleeting moment, her tribrid instincts stirring at the scent of human blood.

The school only provided animal blood—barely enough to curb their hunger—but they had their own supply, taken from one of their excursions into town. A necessary indulgence.

"Want one?" Hope asked, holding up a second bag without needing an answer.

Alec, still groggy, nodded and pushed himself up. His jaw tensed slightly, irritation flickering in his expression. "Yeah," he murmured, voice rough with sleep. He took the bag from her and sank his fangs into it without hesitation.

Silence settled between them as they drank, the slow, rhythmic pull of blood soothing the lingering hunger. This was different from the diluted animal blood they were forced to consume at school—this was richer, warmer, a taste that reminded them of who they truly were.

Hope finished first, tossing the empty bag into the trash with a quiet sigh. Her gaze lingered on Alec for a moment, unreadable.

Without another word, they made their way downstairs to the library. Each step felt heavier than the last, stretching the journey longer than it should have. They had nowhere else to be, but the weight of the day was already pressing down on them.

The library door clicked softly as they entered, the sound echoing in the quiet space. Alaric stood near one of the towering shelves, arms crossed, a slight frown creasing his face. His gaze flicked to them, unreadable.

"Hello, students," he greeted, his voice warm yet laced with an undercurrent of something more serious. "I need all of you in the main hall. There's an important announcement."

Without waiting for a response, he turned on his heel and strode out, his footsteps fading down the corridor.

Hope and Alec exchanged a glance, curiosity and wariness flashing between them.

"Well," Alec said, smirking slightly, "guess we're about to find out what all the fuss is about."

Hope only nodded. As they moved to follow, her hand brushed against his—brief, fleeting, but enough. Whatever was coming next wouldn't be simple.

The great hall hummed with low murmurs as students gathered, their voices weaving into an anxious buzz. Hope, Alec, and Penelope settled in the front row. The air was thick with anticipation, an unspoken tension gripping them all.

Penelope sat beside Hope, her touch light yet grounding, fingers resting over Hope's hand in silent reassurance. On her other side, Stefan sat with a guarded posture, his gaze shifting between Hope and Alec, measuring the tension in the air. Behind them, Liam remained still but taut, his unease evident in the rigid set of his shoulders.

Hope sat motionless, her fists clenched in her lap. The usual steady composure she carried had fractured, replaced by a quiet, simmering fury. Something was coming. Something inevitable. And it wouldn't be good.

The heavy doors at the front of the hall finally swung open, and Alaric strode inside, his presence instantly commanding the room. Conversations died as students turned their attention toward him. He moved with purpose, his expression severe—but there was something else beneath it, something unsettling. A hint of satisfaction, almost celebratory, lingered in the way he carried himself.