A/N: I haven't updated in like six months. I suck so bad. Ugh. I'm sorry! School's been a crapshoot, and I've suffered from writer's block galore. But I'm back! Thank you to all who have read, reviewed, followed, and favorited this story. You guys are awesome.

Okay, so I was planning on having a tourney/joust thing this chapter, but then it got too long, so this chapter is basically the morning of the tourney, and the next chapter will be the tourney, in which some vampire Mikaelson antics will rear their heads and there will be a big dramatic moment at the end of next chapter.

Yeah, so when I said modern-day Mystic Falls is coming in a few chapters, that was a bit of a lie. It'll be a bit longer than that. This is Aria's story, and a huge component of it is her falling in love with Jamie, so I've taken time to flesh out their story, and even when we move past this time period, there are a few TVD historical landmarks I want to touch upon with Aria before we move to present time.

This chapter has a lot of stuff kind of shoved in it. Aria has some family moments/quarrels but also is still reeling from her huge argument with Klaus, and then she has some alone time with Jamie that gets a little less than G-rated. I wouldn't necessarily call it a lemon, as it's more young teenagers exploring their sexualities, but yeah, that's in there. At the end, she reflects about her life without Henrik, she learns more about Jamie, etc.

Warning: Teenage girl performs sexual act on teenage boy.

I'll shut up now. Please read, review, and enjoy! Thanks so much! :D

Chapter 6: Mischief and Misery

Avoiding Klaus for days, nearing weeks on end wasn't as difficult as I originally anticipated. For one, Kol preferred to mingle in the city, and I stayed by Kol's side, but also, Klaus was staying clear of me as much as I was him. Neither of us wanted to face what we said to the other. It was much easier to ignore it.

At least until the tourney. It was a grand event, celebrating Tristan de Martel's latest nameday. Unfortunately, none of my brothers were competing in it, as they did not want to garner notoriety that could spread to Mikael. Kol was particularly saddened by the missed opportunity of bloodshed. Meanwhile, Lord de Martel had been more than a bit put off by my brothers' lack of participation, but Elijah had cajoled him into complacency. Or so he thought. Truly, Kol had used his newfound mind control on him, our shared little secret.

Manipulating humans only got more and more fun with time.

In the meantime, I had snuck brief visits to Jamie in the gardens, exchanging kisses and other pleasantries with him. "You are the rose of my life," he had told me as the sun had set beneath the trees, bathing him in its weak, dappled rays. At the time, I fought the urge to roll my eyes at him; he was awfully dramatic when he wanted to be, and he did it mostly because I found it so ridiculous, but it did make me laugh, especially when he said it with that stupid, lopsided grin of his. "A delicate flower, whose petals are individual wonders to behold."

"I'm not so delicate," I had replied, leaning in for a kiss. "You cannot break what's already broken."

Knights and lords and ladies traveled from surrounding lands, wearing capes and fabrics of every color and material. It was a true spectacle. In my home village, I had never seen such variety, not even from the natives who were a constant, looming threat in the entire time I lived there. The feathers and ceremonial headpieces were not replicated in the Old World, I noticed, which I thought was a shame. Back home, most thought the natives to be savages, but their simple and spiritual way of life had always fascinated me.

The wolves had been natives. The wolves who killed Henrik. But, I found, I did not blame them. Nor did I blame Niklaus for bringing him during the night of the transformation, no matter what I told him. It had been cruel of me to say, but even crueler of him to wish me dead in place of my twin. Nik hadn't been cruel before Henrik's death, before Mother and Father turned us into monsters.

But then again, neither had I.

Aurora, Rebekah, and I were crowded inside the redhead's sitting room, powdering our cheeks and fixing our hair. More than once I felt a pang of jealousy at their natural, effortless beauty. I was well aware of my own good looks, as Jamie told me often enough and I wasn't one to feign modesty, but compared to Bekah, I was often looked over. Her soft waterfall of blonde tresses, angular cheekbones, and ocean blue eyes were appealing to everyone. My own black hair, near-black eyes, and rounder face didn't do the trick for many western European men. And anyways, I would always be ten and three, a child to most. I was lucky to have Jamie, a boy himself. Only, he would grow into a man, and I would remain a little girl.

I tried not to think about that.

"Oh, Aurora, this rouge is lovely," Rebekah gushed as she applied the red balm to her lips, pursing her lips to admire them. The pair of hens were stationed in front of Aurora's mirror, while I sat on the bed, swinging my legs back and forth, bored out of my mind. "You simply must tell me where you acquired it."

"I believe I received it as a gift from some Eastern lady or another," Aurora replied, puckering her own lips at the mirror, brushing her hair at the same time. Her vivid orange hair was truly enchanting, and it covered her sides like a warm cloak. It wasn't difficult to notice what Niklaus saw in her. Every part of her was beautiful, and the gods knew my brother loved his beautiful women. First Tatia, and now her.

Aurora held the rouge out to me, the first time either of them addressed me during their entire conversation. I blinked, a little startled. "Oh, Aria, you must try it. It would look gorgeous on you, what with your dark hair. You want to impress my little brother, do you not? He will be performing in the tourney, you do know."

Yes, I did know. Jamie, in a fit of impish excitement, had informed me not a fortnight before in the lingering shadows of the forest. He had practiced daily since then, ready and raring to challenge the greatest warriors in the realm. Lords Tristan and James had been trained since young childhood to wield a blade, although Jamie was more inclined toward knighthood than his elder brother, due to the unfair laws of primogeniture.

He was good, apparently, very good, from what I'd gathered from folks about the castle and Jamie himself. He was something of a prodigy, it seemed, and desperately eager to prove himself to me. I wanted to tell him that a silly tourney would not enhance or remove my feelings for him in any way, but he was incorrigible, so I didn't bother.

Truth be told, I had no need to impress Jamie, as I'd already long-since done so. But still, I hadn't adorned a well-fitted, vibrant, turquoise gown for no reason at all. My curls of hair were pinned in some areas by sparkling combs and arranged artfully. And across my bosom was a huge, gorgeous emerald necklace that he'd gifted me not days after I mentioned green was my favorite color.

How I adored bright and beautiful things.

For that reason, I allowed Aurora and Rebekah to doll me up, painting my face with layers and layers of nonsense. It did look nice, though, albeit odd. It defined the angles of my cheekbones and jaw, but also made it difficult to move my face. "Beauty is pain," Aurora had reminded me. My lips were now the color of freshly spilled blood, though, which pleased me. It hadn't pleased Bekah when I mentioned it aloud, as she rapidly attempted to cover for my supposed misstep.

Despite all the make-up and primping, I felt more insecure and self-conscious than ever as I strolled down the halls, arm and arm with Rebekah, Aurora having gone to "gather some air" or more likely, find intimacy with Klaus. It was cute how the redhead acted as if she wasn't fucking him all the damn time, because we could smell him all over her. It was a little disgusting, actually.

"She's gone," Rebekah breathed, sounding relieved. I recoiled slightly, a little taken aback. The two of them had seemed to get along so well. Personally, I found Aurora's presence taxing, but Bekah hadn't shown an inkling of the same dislike. "Oh, don't look at me like that, sister. I only wanted to speak with you alone."

"What did you want to speak about?" I asked hesitantly. I knew full well what she wanted to speak about, but I chose to stall her in case she wanted to change her mind and spare me the trouble. Rebekah fixed me with a knowing look, and I dropped the act. "Oh, fine. Ask away, but if I reserve the right not to answer."

"You've been sneaking out with Jamie," she accused, and I blushed. "It's so obvious, Aria, truly - even more so than your and Kol's little trips into the city." I examined a very interesting thread on my silk sleeve. "Have you," she lowered her voice, "done things?"

Done things? What sort of wanton trollop did she take me for? Then again, maybe I was a wanton trollop for spending so much personal time with him. If I was, though, then I didn't regret a thing. Not a single thing. In fact, I sort of liked it. It made me feel older. "No!" I immediately exclaimed, then considered it. "Not really . . . We kiss, and sometimes his hands are . . ."

Rebekah, grabbing me by the arm, tugged me around the corner and into a secluded, shadowed area. "Are what?" she demanded, the urgency in her tone rather misplaced for the subject of our conversation, but I supposed she was living vicariously through me.

"They wander, at times," I admitted, and she smiled in a way only a teasing older sister could. "And it feels . . . nice."

"But nothing more?" she pressed.

"Why do you ask?" I evaded, a bit suspicious.

She straightened, brushing a stray lock out of her face, and cleared her throat. "Our brothers have been . . . less than pleased, and I only want to ensure they have nothing to worry over, as they have been."

They knew? It was one thing if Rebekah noticed, as she was my sister and in-tune with such matters, but I thought I'd been somewhat more inconspicuous than that. "Which brothers?"

Rebekah gnawed on her lip, clearly nervous. "All of them, I suppose."

I exhaled sharply through my nostrils. All of them? "Ollie hasn't said a thing to me." That sneaky little prick. He was supposed to be the one sibling I could trust with everything and who could trust me with equal fervor. Apparently I was mistaken.

She admired her fingernails. "He's mentioned something once or twice. More in passing than the others."

I felt like vaulting my head into the wall. "Oh, and what have the others been saying?"

Her hesitance was evident in her response. "Finn disapproves of most of your activities in the first place." She made a good point. Finn disliked me no matter what I did. "Elijah is close to tearing his hair out. He tends to wait up on you when you disappear after dark, when you are without Kol. He's worried you will make . . . foolish decisions." No surprise there, either. Elijah liked to keep a tight leash on me. I was only surprised he hadn't said anything yet. Maybe he was enacting a piss-poor attempt to maintain my privacy - which wouldn't last much longer. "And Nik . . ."

"Don't feign as if he cares, sister," I scoffed, the mere thought of it setting me on edge. "He's been ignoring me for weeks on end. He wanted to kill Jamie before, and now he hasn't mentioned him once."

"But he does care, Ari!" Her expression was earnest and frankly, a little desperate. Why was she so invested in this? As if reading my thoughts, she continued, "I hate seeing the two of you at odds with each other. It's not right."

"He started it," I said immediately.

She raised a skeptical eyebrow. "And you've done nothing to fan the flames?"

Perhaps blaming Klaus for Henrik's death had been uncalled for, but he'd all but said he wished Henrik was alive in my place. What was I supposed to do? Applaud him? Shower him with praise? He hurt me, so I hurt him back. He was a grown man, as he so often loved to rub in my face; he could take it.

"He is acting brutish and unbrotherly," I replied stiffly, not appreciating the fact that she was so obviously taking his side, as she always did. And they wondered why I always chose Kol in the end. "I kissed Jamie. I only kissed him. I did not give up my virtue, and yet, he called me a whore. I am not. I do not care if all of you think so."

"I don't think you're a whore," she said quietly. But she put emphasis on the wrong word: I. So, she didn't think I was a whore, but the rest of them - Klaus, Elijah, Finn - certainly did.

A muscle in my jaw clenched as I fought back a wave of indignation and mild betrayal. "You can tell our eldest brothers to go fuck themselves. Although I'm sure Niklaus has Aurora to do it for him." And I left her there, in the dimly lit corner, tears pricking at the back of my eyes as I stormed off in a fit of sudden fury.

Fuck them. Fuck them. Apparently, I was not allowed to be happy, because they weren't. Finn was a miserable excuse for a man, Elijah was never not worried about Mikael finding us, and Niklaus - well. He was happy enough, it seemed. He just hated for anyone else to be happy if it stole even a sliver of attention away from him. And I was the whore. Both he and Rebekah whored constantly for affection, he because of Mikael's abuse and she because she was insecure.

It was as if he'd forgotten that Mikael abused me too. He hadn't beaten me as often as he did Niklaus, not even close, but I was the only other child he still did beat. He hated me, sometimes more than Niklaus - and he loathed him. Never Henrik, though. Mikael had cared a lot for his youngest son. It was just me.

In hindsight, centuries later, I would come to realize it was because of Freya. He felt another magical daughter was a disservice to her memory, and despised me for it, despised me for seemingly replacing the only child he ever truly loved. It didn't matter one way or another to me. I didn't deserve it. No explanation could justify how he treated me. Supposedly dead daughter or not.

But Niklaus and I used to share our maltreatment in common, and were irrevocably bonded over it. Back when he was my Nikky. Now he was becoming Klaus, and our once close relationship was dissolving beneath my fingertips.

And he'd always had sway over Rebekah, and even Elijah. Soon enough, he would turn them against me. Finn was already against me. All I would have left would be Kol, the only sibling who stood by me through thick and thin, and vice versa. In the end, it was him and me against the world. And to think, that had been once my beloved twin.

How things had changed.

"Ri!" My mood continued to sour as my favorite brother glided up from the opposite side of the hall, grinning away as if nothing was wrong and he wasn't a lying sack of shit. His smile faltered at the sight of my scowl. "What?"

Sighing hard and dramatically, I brushed past him, but quick as a flash, he latched onto my arm and refused to let go. Excuse me? I stared down at his hand and considered crushing it. It would show him. Noticing my apparent fascination with his appendage, he quickly unhinged himself. "What's wrong, Ri?" Kol asked, a little warily. My siblings had learned to be a little afraid of my mood swings, something that genuinely saddened me, even if I couldn't control it most of the time.

"Oh, nothing." His eyebrows scrunched together. He was suspicious of my answer, that much was obvious. "Other than the fact that you're a fucking liar, of course," I said breezily, plastering on a bright smile for him.

Kol flicked his eyes up toward the ceiling and his impertinent gesture made me want to shove a spear through his throat. "What did Bekah tell you?"

I crossed my arms and huffed. "Oh, only that you've been making stray remarks about me and my activities. Which I found quite strange, considering you," I lowered my voice as a pair of guards meandered by, "and I spend quite a lot of quality time together, murdering village folk and whatnot."

His expression lost its humor and morphed into something uncharacteristically serious. "Are you giving yourself to that de Martel boy?"

Well, that was sudden. He always liked to cut right to the chase, but this was a little much, even for him. And giving myself? Giving myself? Why, I never! I stand corrected - all four of my brothers thought me a whore. This was just bloody spectacular. "I'm not going to even dignify that with an answer, brother," I hissed, not bothering to hide how utterly offended I was by his question. "Of all of our siblings you're the one meant to take my side."

Kol huffed right back. "I only want what's best for you, baby sister, and you've been acting awfully strange lately. You say I'm meant to trust you? That goes in reverse, too. You used to tell me everything."

A pang of guilt sailed through my chest. That was true. There never used to be secrets between us. But this was different. Jamie was . . . special, and I was not about to let my oafs of brothers ruin what we had together. "You don't tell me about your each and every conquest," I spat, and he seemed a little put off by the venom in my tone.

"Do you want to hear about them?" he asked lightly. "I would be more than happy to give you all the exciting details, but I try to spare you the worst of it, like a good brother would."

He had a point. I did not want an express report of Kol's antics in bed. "Then I'm a good sister by doing the same," I pointed out, and his features darkened. I wanted to punch myself in the face. That's not what I meant, not really. I hadn't been with Jamie - not like that, anyhow.

"Are you fucking him?" he asked bluntly, and my mouth dropped open in outrage. Son of a whore. Did he - did he just - ? His countenance softened then. "You can tell me if you are, you know. Sure, I won't throw a bloody party over it, but I won't go all Elijah on you either. I've been known to keep a secret, especially for you."

"Goodbye, Ollie, I will see you at the tourney," I signed, and stalked past him. This time, he didn't try to stop me.

What did it matter if I was fucking Jamie, anyway? I wasn't, but what if I was? It's not like I could become pregnant; I was a walking damn corpse! And Klaus had a taste of Aurora on the side. Kol had plenty of sexual escapades, none of which I particularly wanted to know about. Elijah was no prude, especially not with Tatia, not so long ago. Henrik and I caught them having sex in the woods once when we were tasked with fetching water, and the two of us had stared, wide-eyed and bewildered, wondering why our noble brother was making such strange noises with a woman. We had been twelve years old at the time, and it was a very confusing experience.

…

Henrik and I hopped over roots and twigs and rabbit holes, tossing the empty wooden bucket back and forth. Our cheeks were reddened and inflamed with exertion, and laughter bubbled from our chests, blending together in a melody of happiness. "Last one to the river has to carry it back!" Henrik hollered, and as soon as I caught the bucket, I threw it back at him with all my scrawny, twelve-year-old might to throw him off balance. "Hey, that's cheating!"

I paid him no mind as I bolted forward, faster than a rabbit running for its life, in the direction of the river bank. "You only say that because you're losing!" I taunted over my shoulder, reveling in the sounds of his grunts and curses behind me as he struggled to catch up.

He didn't have a chance in hell, because, well, I didn't like to lose. I propelled my legs forward and in a haze of glory, stumbled down the short but steep ravine to the shoreside. "I win, I win, I win!"

Henrik caught up to me with a pout. "Cheater."

I stuck my tongue out at him. "Loser."

Muttering an insult under his breath, Henrik dropped to his knees and lowered the bucket into the river, swearing once more as the icy water splashed against his fingers. And that was when we heard it.

There were grunts, at first, not too far off from the sounds Henrik and I made as we charged through the forest. But they were different, somehow. More . . . intense.

Henrik opened his mouth to say something but I dragged my finger to my lips, shaking my head. Whoever was here miraculously did not manage to hear us, and it would not do to change that.

A high-pitched whimper sounded from beyond the river, and a shushing sound followed right after. Henrik tossed the now-forgotten bucket aside, and we exchanged a conspiratorial look. "What do you think they're doing?" I whispered in his ear, to which he only shrugged. We had not yet been taught of the wonders of the human body, so the most obvious explanation didn't even occur to us. "Do you think they're fighting?"

"Let's find out," he murmured back. And so, we stealthily slipped into the river and swam across, somehow managing not to splash on the way. Once we grew closer, a pair of voices were thrown into the mix.

"Oh gods, Elijah, please -" another whine - "harder!" This voice belonged to a woman. Both Henrik and I faltered once we dragged ourselves out of the river. Did she say Elijah? our shared gaze seemed to ask.

"If we're caught -"

"Oh, but that's the fun of it -"

"Niklaus will not forgive us -"

"Do not speak of him now, for gods' sake! Oh, yes, yes, right there, gods above, yes, Elijah -"

As I was busy trying to connect the dots of why Elijah of all people was here, and why Nikky couldn't find out about whatever he was doing, poor clumsy Henrik stepped on a particularly crunchy twig, and it snapped under his foot. His eyes stretched impossibly wide as the grunts and moans immediately stopped. We were caught!

There was a fumbling of what sounded like fabrics, but Henrik and I didn't stop to find out. We both hurried back toward the river, not bothering to be quiet about it anymore. Our bare toes entangled into a patch of grass and we were about to leap off the shore when a voice interrupted our escape. "Henrik, Aria?"

We both gulped as a red-faced, flustered Elijah appeared into view. An equally embarrassed Tatia stood not far behind, but she soon disappeared into the forest without a word. Her dress was awfully crooked, though, which was rather unlike her.

Whatever humiliation Elijah was suffering from seemed to transfer directly into indignant anger. "What in the hell are you two doing out here?" he said loudly, his voice raised almost to a yell. Both Henrik and I flinched away from him. We adored Elijah, and respected him more than anyone. We absolutely hated when he shouted at us.

Henrik was caught in a bout of shyness, so with a trembling hand, I pointed at the bucket across the river. "We were sent to fetch water," I explained quickly, and Elijah's expression slackened, losing its hardness. "We heard noises and thought somebody was fighting and we wanted to see."

Oh, how innocent we were. Elijah arrived to the same conclusion, as if he were thanking all the deities in the world that we didn't know a thing about sex. "Oh," he said lamely. "I apologize. Yes, well . . . Tatia wanted me to teach her to fight, you see."

Henrik and I glanced at each other. "Really?" we questioned in unison, both a little dubious.

Elijah's blush returned full-force. "Yes. She heard the stories of the wolves and was frightened, and wanted me to teach her how to defend herself."

That sounded reasonable enough, but - "Then why did she mention Niklaus?" I asked suspiciously. "Why would he care?"

Elijah looked like he wanted to shove my head under the surface of the river for a very long time. "Er, he . . ." I narrowed my eyes. Elijah was acting awkward, stammering for an excuse, which was quite bizarre, considering how cool and collected he typically was. "Niklaus wanted to be the one to teach her to fight, and I fear he will be jealous if he hears I did it instead."

In hindsight, we were excruciatingly stupid for accepting his shoddy and illogical explanation. "Oh, that makes sense," Henrik said, slowly relaxing as Elijah's ire dissipated.

Elijah's eyes widened imperceptibly. "It does?" He cleared his throat. "I mean, yes, of course it does, because it's the truth." He knelt down slightly to our heights, and reached to put a hand on each of our shoulders before seeming to think better of it. Looking back on it, I realized it was because his hands had probably been groping under Tatia's skirts, but at the time, I thought he was still a little angry at us. "You cannot tell Niklaus. Either of you." He took on a sterner expression. "Do you understand?"

"Yes," we chanted, and he finally relaxed, even cracking a warm, loving smile that I should have deduced was because he had just had sex and was, by default, in a good mood, but I was only happy that he had forgiven us. Elijah straightened to his full height. "You two were here to fetch water, correct?" We nodded our heads together, and he smiled again. "I will carry it back for you."

Henrik and I chattered in excitement the whole way back, Elijah thoroughly humoring us, and the two of us were never the wiser.

…

What a fucking hypocrite. He was sticking his prick in that Petrova whore's dirty hole and I couldn't even kiss a boy? What right did they have to judge me? The only brother who could maybe toss a little judgement my way was Finn, because I was almost certain he was a virgin, but even then, he could shut his damn mouth.

As I stomped my way outside the gala, most people had the good sense to stay out of my way, for a multitude of reasons. One, I radiated an aura of pure rage and murder. Two, everyone thought I was insane anyway. They were fairly right, of course, but it was still a little hurtful.

Even when I stepped outside and was greeted with the birds chirping, the sun shining, and the breeze blowing, I was still in a shit mood. The endless pastures of green beauty did nothing to appease me, even though I usually appreciated the landscape on a good day. The hustle and bustle of servants and lords and ladies and knights did little to raise my spirits.

Until I saw a glimmer of fire among the crowd, and an indulgent smile crept its way to my lips, the weight that was settled on my shoulders lightening almost instantly. Jamie, adorned in an unfinished layer of armor, wove his way through the crowd with an infectious grin. "My lady!" He swooped for my hand, and pressed a chaste kiss on the back of it, although his ocean-blue eyes spoke of less chaste things as they raked over my dress and face. "You look . . ." His tongue trailed over his lips. "Exquisite." Ever so lightly, he touched the corner of my lips. "Is that rouge?"

"Thank you, my lord," I replied, pleased with his reaction. "And yes, it is." I leaned in, brushing my lips against his ear, and whispered, "When I kiss you, I want the world to see it."

Jamie visibly swallowed. "Hmm." A mischievous look crossed his handsome face. "I suppose that can be arranged."

With one last thorough look-over, he grabbed onto my hand and led me from the throng of people into a secluded, shadowed area behind the stables. "We will not be noticed here." Then, he offered me a kiss much more rewarding than his previous one. I melted into him as his lips parted mine. Feeling equally mischievous, I forced my tongue inside his mouth and explored.

He tasted delicious. After a few weeks of kissing furiously in the woods, I considered myself something of an expert - or at least, with him. I was certainly well-practiced by now. Neither of us had gone further than that, but there was only so much longer we could last before doing just that.

After all, we were young and wild and free. He was exciting and fun and made me happier than I had been in a long, long time. If kissing him so passionately and often made me a whore in my family's eyes, then so be it. I was happy with him, and they could not ruin that for me. I wouldn't let them.

It was so, so tempting to give in to my inner beast and sink my teeth into the wet suppleness of his lips, and then drain him dry. As our mouths molded and danced against each other, pressure built inside my cheeks, and I was certain that if he stepped back and took a good look at me, he would notice the deadly redness of my eyes.

With much effort, I forced my monstrous features away just as my fangs pricked his bottom lip, and he moaned into my mouth, not noticing the unusual sharpness of my teeth. "Aria," he murmured as I raked my fingers through his hair, tugging on its roots. "You're killing me."

I could kill you, the back of my mind sang. I could kill you before you could even blink. But I didn't want to hurt him. Not him. Not ever.

The slightest tang of blood swirled against my tongue from when I'd pierced his lips, and I forcefully deepened the kiss, trying with everything in me to not turn it into something much more dangerous, as difficult as it was to maintain control. In a twisted sort of way, Elijah would be proud of me.

His hands roamed down my sides and hips, before cupping my backside, rutting against me, and hoisting me upward, wrapping my legs around his waist. The thrill of the movement sent a rush of tingles through my center, and I crossed my ankles behind his back. Turning my head, I began to press little kisses up and down his neck, sucking on the sensitive skin as I went. His blood raged beneath my lips, and I relished in the sound of his furious pulse. It occurred to me again that all I had to do was nip through the paper-thin defense of his skin and I would guzzle on the drink of gods.

"You will be the death of me," he gasped, and I pulled back right as my teeth grazed his throat. No, I would not be the death of him. I wouldn't allow it.

Ah, but he was aroused. I could feel his hardness poking against me, and I smirked at him, sliding down his torso to return to the dirt, keeping my arms slung around his neck. His shoulders were taut with barely suppressed energy, and he looked about two seconds away from jumping on me all over again.

Deciding to be extra bold, I palmed the front of his trousers, and he released the most appetizing groan imaginable. "God above," he panted, his orange hair flopping over his sweaty forehead as his darkened eyes sought mine. "You do realize I will have to fix this before the tourney, right?"

So, maybe I was still a little naïve about sex. I felt a flicker of confusion. "Fix it?" What was there to fix? There was no malfunction, was there? Nothing seemed wrong. In fact, it felt quite right. Did I mess it up? A horrible thought struck me. Did I hurt him?

A flush of red washed across his cheeks. "I cannot ride my horse if my . . ." His blush darkened, and he peered at me through his thick curtain of eyelashes, clearly willing me to understand. "If it's . . ."

"Hard?" I finished for him, wondering why he was so embarrassed. If his body reacted that way, then surely it was natural. But then again, when my center swelled with heat, it didn't feel so natural. It felt wonderful, yes, and I wanted to feel more of it, but it was also foreign and strange. Perhaps because it wasn't socially permissible on either of our parts.

"Yes," he forced out, his lips flattening into a thin white line. "If you'll excuse me -"

I halted his movements with a light touch on the shoulder. If I wanted to, I could have locked him in place with my far superior strength, but at the moment, a tap was all he needed to stay. He didn't very well want to leave. "I do not understand. Why must you fix this problem yourself when I am right here?"

Jamie's eyes grew comically wide. "A-Aria!" I only waited for him to calm himself, and he did, after a few moments of unintelligible sputtering. The vehemence of his reaction amused and befuddled me at the same time. "I-I cannot ask you to do that. It is . . . unladylike."

I awarded him with cheeky smile, pecking him on the cheek. "And I have told you, I am not a real lady."

"I don't care, you are to me," he muttered, and I couldn't help but embrace a rush of warmth at how painfully adorable he was. If he knew what I really was, he wouldn't be so quick to defend me. He would probably try to have me killed.

But that was another problem for another day.

I chose to stand firm, ignoring his faint and half-hearted protests. "I caused this problem in you, now let me fix it. What do you do to fix it?"

The poor boy looked as if he wanted the ground beneath us to open up and swallow him whole, not leaving even a trace of him behind. "I use my hands," he said quickly, looking anywhere but at me. He fixated his gaze on a raven squawking its little head off up overhead. "But, um, there are multiple ways for a lady to fix a man's . . . problems."

I maintained a pleasant curiosity, unbothered by his stuttering and evident awkwardness. "How so?"

"There is the obvious way, with the two of us in bed together and joined as one, but that will not leave your virtue intact, and so that is not an option." He was right; I wasn't ready for that yet. Maybe someday, but being physically ten and three and truly only ten and four, even I could admit my maturity was limited. "There's also your hands," he replied with a wavering voice, wringing his own hands together. "And your, um . . ."

"My what?" I prompted.

"Your mouth," he choked out, and if it were possible, his blush deepened. He looked like he wanted to drop dead. He kept staring at the stupid bird as if begging it to end his life somehow. "But I do not expect you to . . . I do not want you - well, that's not to say I don't want you to, but -"

I considered my options as he continued to stammer and ramble on and on. I was not ready to give myself to him fully, and he knew that, and did not want it yet himself - or so he claimed. I did not know how a woman used her mouth on a man, but I was willing to learn. It was unlikely for me to figure it out before the tourney, but it was an intriguing concept.

And thus, I decided. "I will use my hands, if you show me how," I said firmly. Nobody could catch a glimpse of our mischief from where we hid behind the stables, anyhow. I didn't see anything wrong with it. Plus, it was a little exhilarating, and especially satisfying when I realized how furious my brothers would be if they found out. It added a thrill to the situation that I positively loved. When Jamie stood still as a stone, I flicked him on the forehead. "Go on, then. Unbutton your trousers and hand it over. We don't have all day."

The briskness of my tone must've shattered all lingering hesitance on his part, because he dissolved into chuckles and without another word, undid his belt and trousers, putting on display what had been hidden under layers of fabric. A smirk hid at the corner of my mouth. I liked what I was seeing. It was the first time I ever saw one, but I knew that size was an important factor, and I approved.

"Now what?" I asked, reaching down and encircling it with my hand. He stiffened, and his eyes fluttered closed. Evidently, the area was very sensitive. How strange. Experimentally, I squeezed tighter, and he shuddered. "Do I just move my hand?"

"Yes," he said, his voice a few octaves higher than normal, squeaking and cracking on the way out. It occurred to me the power I held over him at this moment. I had all his desires literally in the palm of my hand. I had complete and utter control over him. Locking away my inner predator, I began to slide my hand up and down his shaft, rhythmically increasing pressure and then speed. "A-ah!" he cried, his hand grasping onto my shoulder for balance. "Aria . . ."

"Do you like this?" I asked innocently, using my other hand as well to join in the fun. His incoherent series of mumbles and grunts more than answered my question. "It sounds like you do."

"A-Aria," was all he could say.

It did not take long to finish him, and I stepped carefully out of the way as a waterfall of creamy liquid gushed onto the dirt below, a curious mixture of brown and white. He trembled violently as he righted himself, redoing his belt. The buckle rattled beneath his hands. "You are a minx," he murmured, flashing me a pleased, now entirely relaxed grin. "When we get the chance, allow me to return the favor."

I tilted my head to the side, bewildered. Did I hear him right? "What do you mean 'return the favor?'" Sure, I didn't know a lot about how opposing sexualities worked, but I had a good enough grasp of my human anatomy to understand that what I did to him was obviously not possible with me. I did not have his parts - surely he knew that. "I do not follow."

His knowing smile only widened, and now it was my turn to feel a little embarrassed. I could dish it out easily enough, but when it came down to it, I was clueless about anything sex-related, and didn't know how to handle that sort of speak when it was addressed to me. "Have you never," he lowered his voice conspiratorially, "explored yourself?"

Words died a painful death in my throat. Was he trying to make this as awkward for me as it was for him? My mother, after explaining to me how the female body functioned, told me that it was improper for women to experience any pleasure outside of marriage, even if it was self-inflicted. Apparently men didn't follow the same code of conduct, but I was under the impression women were strictly forbidden from such actions. "Er, no," I said shortly, my cheeks flaming red.

His grin turned positively wicked. "The next time we are together, I aim to change that." He leaned forward, and his lips tickled my ear. "I think you will enjoy yourself very much. I will ensure it." This time, it was my turn to shiver, and he laughed softly into the crook of my neck. "Now you know how it feels." His fingers trailed down my jawline. "I must ready my horse before my own armor is finalized. Would you like to join me?"

My face felt very, very hot. I didn't know how he was doing this to me. It was as if he snatched all the control I previously had over him and now wielded it playfully against me. I wasn't so sure how I felt about it. A part of me, of which I didn't know the size or strength, sort of liked it, though. "All right."

Jamie led the way into the stables, and there was a lone stable boy inside, not much older than either of us. At the sight of us, his eyes glinted and his nostrils flared from apparent amusement, and I abruptly wanted to die. "Hello, milord," he greeted, dipping his head in feigned respect. "Milady."

"Tom, my good man," Jamie coughed. They appeared to know each other to some degree. "It's a pleasure."

The boy seemed to swallow down a laugh. "Yes, I can see that." Oh. Oh. The little shit was making a euphemism. Self-consciously, I fiddled with my hair and noticed with dismay that it was in a state of mild disarray. Oh gods, I could only imagine what it looked like. My combs were still locked in place, but that didn't say much for the rest of my hair. "Shouldn't you have your armor finished, milord? The tourney is in only two hours."

Jamie fidgeted beside me. "Yes, yes. Er, I will."

"I haven't had a chance to dress up your horse, milord. Should I do that now?"

"I can do that," Jamie said pointedly, and the stable boy, Tom, took that as his cue to slip away, but not before he threw one more smirk over his shoulder as he left. Perhaps we had not been as discreet as I would've hoped. Jamie hadn't exactly been quiet.

"Ignore him," Jamie tried, and I offered a tight smile. As appealing as it sounded to sneak around behind my brothers' backs, if this somehow traveled back to them, then Jamie would die. No ifs, ands, or buts. Jamie would die, and I wasn't sure if I could recover from that. Not after Henrik, or Mother. I lost too much already. "Would you like to meet Athena?"

"Sure," I sighed. We couldn't exactly take it back now. What was done was done. I could only hope Tom would keep his fat mouth shut. If he didn't, one of my brothers would probably even kill him for serving merely as a messenger, so he had nothing to gain and everything to lose.

A beautiful, gleaming red horse peered down at me with kindly, warm eyes. All anxiety faded from me at the sight of her. I had only discovered the existence of horses within the past year, and I held a certain fondness for them already. They were pure, gentle animals. Nothing like humans. "Hello, girl," I crooned, reaching forward to pet her on the snout. She whinnied softly, nudging into my touch. "Why Athena?" I queried after a moment stroking her on the head. "Of all the Greek goddesses, most men would choose Aphrodite for such a stunning horse."

And she was stunning. In the weak sunlight that poured between the cracks in the rooftop and wooden boards of the stable, her coat glimmered fire. She was tall, and taut muscles rippled beneath her short fur. A hot pelt of air puffed from her nose, and she neighed again, as if agreeing with me.

"Beauty is fleeting," Jamie said, preparing her saddle and coat of arms, her armor waiting beside her. "She is a clever horse. Wise, I daresay. Aphrodite didn't seem appropriate for her. And anyway," his lips curved up into a quick grin, "the last time someone chose Aphrodite over Athena, the Trojan War happened. Better safe than sorry."

I looked into the horse's deep, endless pools of eyes and felt a pang of indescribable sadness. Henrik would have loved horses. He had loved all animals, and secretly hated hunting them. He would have been awestruck at the sight of them, awestruck that such magnificent creatures walked the Earth.

And now he would never know.

Tears burned at my eyes, but I hastily blinked them away. I had cried enough over him, hadn't I? And yet, it wasn't enough. It would never be enough to convey the grief I carried with me, always and forever.

"You're thinking about him, aren't you?" Jamie's quiet question pierced my bout of intense sadness. "Your twin brother."

I hadn't told Jamie much about my family. He had known about Henrik since that fateful night we met, and I briefly mentioned my mother's death, and my father's absence. But I hadn't quite delved into the circumstances of either of their deaths. I didn't dare. He knew Henrik died from wolves, but he hadn't known they were werewolves, and I did not plan to tell him. And I couldn't very well tell him that my father murdered my mother, could I?

"Yes," I said with equal quietness. A small, gentle smile played at my lips. "He was so sweet, and friendly, and happy. He would have loved it here. All the grass, and the rolling hills, and the horses. He would have loved it all." A slight tremor worked its way into my voice. "But he will never see it." My lips trembled as I fought back the approaching storm of tears. "We did not have horses where I come from. It's stupid to think of, I know. I do not know why this hurts me especially, of all things. But . . . he will never ride a horse."

"I'm sorry, Aria," Jamie said, sincerity wafting from every inch of him. He covered my shaking hand on Athena's mane with his, and I forced myself to calm down. "I wish he could ride a horse, my sweet. I wish I could bring him back to life for you." His lips quirked down. "I wish it almost as much as I wish I could bring my own mother back to life." Curiously, I met his earnest gaze. He had hardly mentioned his mother before, only that he had a different one from Aurora and Tristan. I had filled in the blanks when I realized she wasn't here.

"Tell me about your mother," I whispered, chancing a watery smile to encourage him.

Jamie's other hand scratched his horse behind the ears, and his eyes clouded over in thought and old sadness. "I don't remember much of her. She passed when I was a small child from a terrible sickness. But I do remember that she was kind and beautiful. She had hair like the sun, and eyes like the ocean. I think I remember her smile most of all. Whenever she smiled at me, I could feel how much she loved me." His expression dimmed. "She even smiled at me when she died, so I wouldn't feel sad." His jaw tightened and tears of his own magnified the vivid blue in his eyes. "It didn't quite work."

I didn't know what to say. She sounded like a wonderful woman. My own mother had been loving and kind and beautiful. But I couldn't forgive her for what she did. Doomed me to an eternity without my other half, and stole the one comfort I had left - my magic. I still missed her sometimes, though. How could I not? No matter what she did, she was still my mother. "I'm sorry, Jamie."

A single tear formed on his orange lashes and rolled down his cheek. "You would have loved her," he mumbled. "And she would have loved you."

Despite my best efforts, a wave of moisture broke past my defenses and streamed down my cheeks. "Perhaps your mother and my brother are watching over us now, together. Perhaps those two kind, beautiful souls have found each other, and," my breath hitched, "and they are not alone."

With a strangled gasp, Jamie reached for me, and drew me into a tight embrace. I wound my arms around his neck and buried my face into his tunic. "Do you think so?" he breathed into my hair, his fists grasping at my dress. "Do you think they've found each other, perhaps, and they watch over us?"

I couldn't be sure. Not really, anyhow. Nobody had any clue of what came after death, no matter how many religions tried their hands at explaining it. I was not arrogant enough to assume I had the answers, but - "Yes, I think so. I think they've both found peace."

I smiled at the thought of my brother finding peace. That was all he ever truly wanted. Nothing could ever heal the heartache his death caused me, but somehow, Jamie's presence helped soothe the hurt. I cared about him, I realized. A lot. Maybe I even . . . No, I refused to think about that. Not now.

Pulling away from the hug, I patted him on the cheek, brushing away his stray tear with my thumb. "Come, Jamie. You have a tourney to win."

A/N: So, anyway, I hope you guys liked that mess of a chapter. Next chapter will have some comic relief with the entire Mikaelson clan at the tourney, and I think it'll be fun. There will also be a big moment at the end of it, where Jamie finds out Aria's little secret. Tell me what ya think in the reviews! :D