When Night Comes

Epilogue : 𝓘𝓷𝓮𝓻𝓽𝓲𝓪

"What has gotten your pretty little head so worried, doll ?" Curiously asked her father as they were feasting.

She lifted her head, startled by his question. Shrugging, she said : "Nothing important, I just..."

Her fathers fixed their gaze on her, awaiting an explanation. Uncertain of how to express herself, she opted to play with the mashed potatoes on her plate, sensing their confusion mirrored in her hesitation.

"I used to have another family," she began softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Mortals," responded her father without care. "We took you in and you have us now."

She bit her lip. While her memories of the time before her turning were becoming slightly blurry, she could still retell the events in moderate detail. With time, her relationship with her sire had mended and her bond with the two older vampires had greatly improved. She couldn't say when she had begun to refer to them as her fathers. Perhaps, it was because of the blond vampire's insistence. His determination must have worn her down with time. (Y/n) had subconsciously learned there was no use arguing with her father; he always found a way to get what he wanted. What was repeated enough often became a reality, and now, (Y/n) was an integral part of their immortal tableau. They were family.

She acquiesced, breaking the somber mood. "Forgive my gloominess."

The atmosphere in the dining room shifted, tension intermingling with the scent of the evening's feast. Then, a shrill scream from upstairs echoed through the ornate halls, a stark reminder of (Y/n)'s penchant for mischief.

Her father's gaze hardened, a silent reproach conveyed through his piercing eyes. Beside him, her dad sighed, his exasperation apparent. "(Y/n), we've discussed this," he admonished, his voice carrying a weariness that suggested this was not the first time such an incident had occurred.

The young vampire toyed with her food, a nonchalant air about her as if feeding on the tailor was merely an inconvenience to her parents. And it was. Years ago, the mere thought of drinking blood repulsed her. Now, it had become the norm, something that had been instilled within her by Dorian. She placed a finger on her lips, a mischievous smile playing on them. The two older vampires exchanged a glance, a silent communication that spoke of shared exasperation and a need for discipline.

Her father's frustration erupted as he demanded, "What have we said about feeding in the house? Was it the tailor we hired for your new dresses?" The mere thought of a potential delay in her wardrobe seemed to agitate the blond vampire more than the breach of their feeding protocol.

With a nod, (Y/n) confirmed her choice of victim. The consequences of her actions, however, did not weigh heavily on her. She glanced between her fathers with innocent eyes. "I didn't make a mess."

"Now, who will finish those dresses?" The blond threw his hands in the air dramatically.

☼

That same evening, once the little mess with the corpse was arranged, the girl still appeared preoccupied. Truth to be told, this feeling wasn't new or sudden. It was something that had lingered within her for years now. It all came to a head tonight. As they were served tea in the living room, (Y/n) eyes lingered on the maid who served them the tea.

She sighed wistfully as the maid departed. The woman was slender, with curves and a mature air around her. (Y/n) reminisced, "I remember when Henrietta was younger. She was twelve when she started working here."

Her dad raised an eyebrow as he lifted his head from the journal he was reading. "Who ?"

She rolled her eyes. "Henrietta, the maid that just left."