The door clicked softly behind Seraphina as she vanished into the corridor, her satisfied smirk lingering in the air like a perfume. Her plan had succeeded — not only had she gifted Aria a night free of nightmares, but she'd expertly derailed Sophia's alone time with Adrian in the process.
Inside the room, the candlelight cast warm shadows across the bed where the unlikely trio lay tangled in soft blankets and each other's quiet presence.
Aria had dozed off completely, her small frame tucked safely between the two people she now called family. One arm clutched her stuffed dragon; the other sprawled across Adrian's chest. A foot had managed to wedge itself under Sophia's side, though the former duelist bore the discomfort without complaint.
Adrian let out a soft sigh, eyes half-lidded as he stared up at the ceiling. The flicker of the candles danced across his thoughts as much as the stone walls. "I think we've been outmaneuvered," he murmured, glancing down at Aria's sleeping face.
Sophia, her hand resting gently on the child's back, raised an eyebrow. "By a five-year-old and a manipulative, jealous sorceress aunt? Yes. Utterly."
He chuckled lowly, careful not to wake the sleeping girl nestled between them. "She's strong, though. Braver than most grown knights I've met."
"She gets that from you," Sophia said, her voice softening as she traced lazy circles against the blanket near Aria's shoulder.
"No… I think she gets it from all of us," Adrian replied. "You. Seraphina. Even Christine and Chris. She's surrounded by strength — and love."
Sophia didn't reply immediately. Her crimson eyes lingered on Aria's peaceful face. "Do you ever think about it?" she asked after a pause. "What her life would've been like if we hadn't found her?"
Adrian's jaw tightened just a little. "I do. More than I'd like." He gently brushed a curl from Aria's forehead. "But she's here now. Safe. With us. And I'll never let anyone take that away from her."
A long silence passed between them, filled only by the gentle sound of Aria's breathing. It was Sophia who finally broke it, her tone lighter.
"I was really going to kill Seraphina, you know."
Adrian smirked. "I know. You still might."
"She's lucky Aria begged me to stay."
"And I'm lucky you listened."
Sophia turned her gaze to him, and in the flickering glow, something tender bloomed behind her sharp features. "You're not just raising a child, Adrian. You're shaping a future. Her future. Ours."
He reached across the sleeping child to take Sophia's hand, intertwining their fingers gently.
"She's ours," he said firmly. "All of us. And that means she'll grow up surrounded by women as fierce as lions and a father who will never falter."
Sophia leaned in and kissed his knuckles. "Then we'd better not falter either."
As sleep slowly stole over them, the room fell still — not with silence, but with peace. Aria stirred slightly, mumbling something about "dragon tails" before curling tighter between her parents.
Adrian smiled, letting his eyes drift shut.
Outside, the moon rose higher, casting soft silver across the Everhart Manor.
Inside, in the heart of it, a family slept — messy, unconventional, but bound by something far stronger than blood:
Love.
The night outside deepened into a velvet hush, stars scattered like silver dust across the heavens. Inside the manor, silence reigned — not the kind born from absence, but the kind carved from comfort, from safety.
In Adrian's room, the candlelight had burned low, casting long shadows across the high stone walls. The fire in the hearth had dulled to embers, its glow soft and steady. And in the center of the massive bed, three forms lay tangled in warmth and affection.
Adrian lay on his back, unmoving, his gaze fixed on the ceiling though his mind wandered elsewhere. Aria lay curled against his side, one tiny fist clutched around a lock of his shirt, her breathing soft and even. Her stuffed dragon had been discarded beside her, its tail now wrapped loosely around Sophia's wrist.
Sophia, lying on Aria's other side, had long since closed her eyes — but Adrian knew she wasn't asleep. Her breathing, calm and measured, was always just slightly too sharp when she was pretending. She was thinking too — about all they'd fought for, all they'd gained, and what came next.
Adrian gently traced his fingers through Aria's soft curls, his heart full in a way he couldn't quite describe. "She's really ours now," he murmured quietly, voice low so as not to disturb either of them.
Sophia opened her eyes just slightly, their crimson hue glinting in the dim light. "She's always been," she replied. "It just took the rest of the world a little longer to catch up."
Adrian gave a small smile, brushing Aria's cheek with his thumb. "Do you remember the first time we found her? How quiet she was? How… afraid?"
Sophia nodded slowly. "She didn't cry. Not once. That was what scared me most." Her voice faltered briefly before she caught it again. "Now she won't stop talking."
"She's got a lot to say. She was just waiting for someone who'd listen."
Adrian shifted slightly, resting his head against the top of Aria's. "She's braver than anyone gives her credit for."
"She gets that from you," Sophia said gently.
He glanced over at her, meeting her gaze across their daughter's sleeping form. "No. From us."
Their eyes lingered for a moment, a silent understanding passing between them — fierce, unspoken, unbreakable.
Sophia sighed, curling an arm around Aria's waist. "I was going to kill you tonight, you know. In the good way."
Adrian chuckled under his breath. "That's a shame."
"Don't worry," she whispered. "You'll still pay for Aunt Seraphina's interference. With interest."
They both fell quiet again as Aria shifted in her sleep, mumbling something about "monster-catching pancakes."
Adrian chuckled softly, tightening his hold around her.
The fire crackled gently behind them. The weight of the world — curses, enemies, burdens — was gone, if only for tonight.
He looked once more at Sophia, her lashes now resting softly on her cheeks, her features peaceful. And then at Aria — this little star dropped into their lives like fate itself had intervened.
This was family. Imperfect, unlikely… but utterly theirs.
And in the warmth of that moment, Adrian finally let his eyes close, surrendering to sleep with his world safely in his arms.