Chapter Text
It was funny, how things seemed to find their place. How life always found a way to reward, no matter what had happened in the past.
Sometimes it was the little things. Waking up from a good night’s sleep and not feeling like it was something rare, or unique. An easy smile from the people who’d lost so much.
Sometimes they were bigger, gifts of a moment wrapped up in contentment. Seeing Perry and LaFontaine bring their adopted child home for the very first time. Getting caught up in the excitement and anticipation of Die Siegreiche: Pflichtspielen für Werwölfe come to life before their very eyes. Moving in together, balancing laptops and art supplies and piles of newspapers on the exquisite antique table.
Laura was pretty sure this had been her fate all along. There was no better alternative. This had all she wanted. She’d done a lot to get to it.
She knew pain. Not by choice. It had commanded her to be its best friend; it had settled comfortably in her chest for months on end, acting like it was coming home. (She guessed it had, really – she had, after all, gone through all of this before with her mom.) It had intended to stay forever.
She didn’t allow it. So now it just came back in whispers, lamenting the strength it had once had.
Sometimes she woke up, fear and loneliness spilling over into reality from her nightmare. For those moments, she was transported two years back to when she’d felt the most disconnected from life anyone could ever feel.
Sometimes, she felt Carmilla press into her and murmur that she was here, she was right here and she wasn’t going anywhere. Then she was back in the present, snuggling with her soulmate, and that fear was banished.
Other times, if Carmilla was up and about for the night, instead of being in bed with Laura, the journalist would get up and walk through the apartment to find her. She wouldn’t be able to think about anything else except seeing Carmilla with her own two eyes, making sure she was alive; every time Laura found her, the vampire would drop whatever she was doing and wrap her in the tightest embrace possible.
The relief they got from those moments was hard to beat.
Laura wasn’t the only one susceptible to moments of crippling uncertainty. Carmilla had suffered anguish, too – more so than Laura, and more than one person should ever have had to suffer – and this still showed. The vampire had, for the most part, dealt with it – but when thunder sounded like the booming gunfire of World War I and the roaring of rocks tumbling down, down, down, it wasn’t surprising that she was especially vulnerable in these moments.
The illustrator had nightmares, too. If Laura was at work, there wasn’t much she could do when Carmilla woke up, panting and whimpering, except comfort her by texting or answering her call. But if she was there, then the journalist could help.
Of course, they were usually aware of each other’s whereabouts. But in these vulnerable moments, it had become normal for them to repeat the words, “I’m here, I’m here, you’re home, I’m here,” to the soulmate that was having trouble focusing on reality. So when Carmilla’s eyes were glazed and she was folded in on herself, Laura rested her forehead against her girlfriend’s and repeated those words until the vampire came back to her.
Luckily, these moments were few and far between. That didn’t mean they didn’t happen, but they were rare, and they were both thankful for that. It meant they could really enjoy their life together now, almost free of their terrifying episodes.
And life truly was brilliant. Not just calm, not just resolved… but perfect.
This had been their fate all along. Not just for Laura and Carmilla, but for everyone they’d got to know on this crazy adventure.
Michael lived in the Karnstein mansion now. He’d got used to it now, and the house itself was perfectly suited for someone with vampiric tendencies. Plus, it connected Carm’s past and her present together nicely; her past was full of ghosts, of who she had been, but it was still part of the person she’d grown into. Mike was their friend – he’d seen her as a way out. Even Carmilla had agreed – after a while – that there really wasn’t a better place for him to live.
She made him pay rent, though. Eventually, if he saved up, he could eventually buy it off her. That wasn’t going to happen any time soon – but one of the perks of being a vampire was that money tended to pile up rather quickly.
It was also pretty handy for him, because he didn’t have any neighbours that would complain about his nocturnal behaviour. Since finishing his job of educating lone Lophiiformes clan members, he’d taken on two occupations – firstly, being educated about vampire history at a local Vampire Education class held by Silas University, and (secondly), becoming a location scouter for a supernatural company. Yeah, apparently that was a thing now.
Danny, being a grandchild of Committee members, knew people. Or, more specifically, people who only employed supernatural beings to travel to different locations in Austria and investigate whether it was a suitable place for creatures of their kind or not. This company that Danny knew of, A Walk on the Wild Side, had a vampire branch that was only too eager to employ Mike as a travelling advisor. Finally, he had a stable job that combined his love for sightseeing with his vampiric nature. He was loved at his workplace, too; they jokily called him Scarface and lapped up his attention to detail.
So if he wasn’t out learning about things like ‘The Politics of Vampirism from 500-1000 AD’, or hosting get-togethers with the Dimwit Squad and their attachments, then he was either off to a beautiful city or a hidden gem of Austria or hastily typing up the notes he’d made about them.
In short, he was fully content. Which Kirsch was delighted about, of course. The tall journalist had been worried that he wouldn’t have been able to get a job after the battle, but all of his fears had been swept away.
The two brothers often visited their family together. Jordanna was a frequent topic of their conversations – namely, how well she’d been doing lately, being completely clean and getting therapy – and their parents had welcomed their supernatural sides with open arms. Their father had never been happier; if he hadn’t been sternly advised by his sons not to expose their secrets to other humans, he would happily have talked everyone’s ears off about how proud he was of his werewolf and vampire sons.
(Laura was so relieved he was talking again. In fact, she was so relieved about how well the family in general was doing. Four years ago, it had been a different story entirely, and it was still painful to think about.)
Mrs Kirsch tended to carry a certain “I told you so” air about her nowadays. Which she was entitled to have, in all truth.
Kirsch himself was still on his photography course, and avidly trying to construct a portfolio to go with his upcoming qualification. He was enraptured by his course and all he’d learnt – Danny had been almost clairvoyant in muttering her predictions about how he would be coming home every day jumping in excitement. He’d actually done that. Frequently. It was like he was a little kid again.
Was Laura sad that he’d be quitting his job with her soon? Well, yeah. They were the journalistic partners in crime; they solved all of the mysteries of Silas together. But she guessed that good thing had to come an end – and, besides, Perry had put Laura’s name forward to be promoted to the main headlines for Silas, which looked like it was going to be approved. So they would’ve been separated anyway. At least, in this way, Kirsch got to do the thing he really loved. Even if it meant he was losing sleep for it.
Because he was building up his portfolio by sometimes travelling with Michael – which was always at night. That way, the vampire could present his findings in an even more exciting way (with a little guidance from Kirsch at the writing, too), and the werewolf could present his lecturers with some really fantastic pictures. It meant that sometimes Danny would see him for all of an hour in the space of a couple days – a fact that easily made her disgruntled – but it was what benefited most of the people involved.
When Kirsch came back to Danny’s place – his place of residence for almost two years now – from his travelling with Mike, Laura was told by the moaning ginger werewolf, he was usually really groggy and tired. He was usually due to attend another class, too. That was when they tended to shout at each other the most – but really? They didn’t shout at each other a lot. Oh, God, they still totally infuriated each other like nothing Laura had ever seen before, but it was different. It wasn’t rowing, it was just the way they worked with each other.
“Their relationship has a switch,” Michael observed as he enjoyed blood con carne, when everyone was over at the safe house one night. “They’re either almost sickening with how in love they are, or they’re insulting each other over stupid things like the level of laundry they have to do. If I didn’t know them both as well as I do, I’d be a bit worried.”
And – yeah, that was the best explanation she’d heard of Danny and Kirsch’s relationship. It was unconventional, and explosive, but it just worked. And neither could really live without it.
Which was why, Mike had told her that same night, before Kirsch and Danny had arrived, Kirsch had realised he wanted to marry his soulmate. And who was the first person he told? Michael, of course.
Except it hadn’t been the average, “Bro, I think I’m gonna marry my soulmate.” According to the vampire, Kirsch had phoned him up and greeted him with the words, “Oh, my God, oh, my God. Dude. Dude. Holy fuck.”
“Wilson, are you okay?” Michael had replied, rather panicked.
“This is, like, huge. Holy shit. Holy shit.” Clearly, Kirsch hadn’t been paying much attention to his brother’s words.
“Is there anything I need to – Bro, just tell me.”
“Okay – um. So. I’m gonna marry Danny.”
“Oh, wow! Congratulations, Wilson! Did she propose?” Michael had paused. “Did you propose?”
“N-no – oh, God, do you think we’ve left it too late? Should we have got married already? I just – I’ve thinking ‘bout it for a while, but it’s only just hit me now that – yeah, I’m totally down for this. Dude, it’s this big fucking revelation and everything. She’s the love of my life, you know? I’m so happy to be with her.”
Michael had laughed. Quite hard, apparently. “Bro, you had me so worried then. Next time you phone me up shaking and repeating expletives, don’t tell me something we all already know.”
Kirsch, now he had his heart set on marrying Danny, couldn’t really think about much else. He was constantly quizzing his friends how to broach the idea to the fiery werewolf as soon as she was out of earshot (i.e. whenever she wasn’t a mile radius of them). He wasn’t planning to propose, though; he wanted her to propose to him, as she was so adamant about defying gender stereotypes, and all that.
His genuine, nervous enthusiasm was so heart-warming to watch. He’d bounce both his legs and watch everyone intently as the subject was being discussed. A lopsided smile would be stuck on his face for hours afterwards – which, in Carmilla’s opinion, “just frustratingly accentuated the image of him being a puppy wanting to play with its owner.” (Laura often teased Carmilla that it meant she thought he was being cute. She tried not to laugh too hard at the illustrator’s indignant expression.)
Laura found Kirsch’s rambling excitement really adorable. She felt the same about Carmilla, too, so that helped.
Danny actually didn’t have a clue that Kirsch was wanting to propose. No, that wasn’t right – she subconsciously knew. But her brain just wasn’t telling her, so – being as finely tuned to Kirsch as everyone had come to expect – she’d noted that something was different. She wasn’t suspicious (it wasn’t exactly a threatening situation to be in), just curious.
Finally, a week or so before Hallowe’en, she’d come up to Laura and had tried to nonchalantly ask the busy journalist a question. (Kirsch had gone to see Perry about sending off an article, so it had just been the two of them.)
“Do you think the man-puppy is ready for marriage?” (Somehow Carmilla’s nickname had caught on, with variants being made left, right and centre.)
Laura had been caught off-guard, which was why she’d nearly knocked her hot chocolate over in surprise. However, she had managed to stutter out a response of, “Um, I-I’m not exactly th-the person to ask, Danny. I’m kind of… not him.”
“I know, I know. I just thought you might’ve seen some signs, or whatever.”
Danny had been leaning forward in the seat, fixing the human with a tender expression. Laura couldn’t have helped it; she beamed at the werewolf, secretly loving how cool Danny had been trying to act whilst simultaneously baring all to her best friend.
“I don’t think you have to worry, you know. You should just… girl the hell up and ask him!”
“Yeah. Yeah, that’s a good idea,” the athlete had nodded. “And you should too, Laura.”
Well, that was opening a whole can o’ worms she hadn’t been brave enough to show to her soulmate yet/ It was totally on the cards – there was really no doubt in how she’d answer that question – but she hadn’t the faintest idea how to even begin that conversation.
(“Hi, Carm, how was your day? Also, will you marry me?”
Yep. Definitely not the easiest thing to do.)
Danny had handled it well, by comparison, and now she was slowly but surely opening up to the brown-haired werewolf about it. Laura couldn’t really blame her for going at a snail’s pace, though; the athlete did have a lot to think about, what with her Die Siegreiche Games being held for the first time. It had happened that summer (and happened in a huge way), but the business side of it never really stopped. Especially for an event in its infancy. Especially for an event as successful as this.
It was, in short, the werewolf answer to the Olympics. And it was that huge, too – there had been masses of advertising, masses of paperwork, and a masses of scrambling werewolves wanting to become participants. Danny had been bowled over by the reaction – but who wouldn’t have been, in her shoes? This was her baby. And it was going down a treat.
Laura remembered it all; the cacophonous crowd, the vibrant displays, the impressive feats of athleticism by the Alphas on show for the audience to applaud. Danny had got them all tickets for the day (they only stayed for most of the events, because Rosalind, the Perry household child, was never going to stay awake for the whole thing, and it ended late in the evening) – and they’d all got swept up in the pure joy of the occasion. They’d screamed and shouted with the rest of the crowd, not even knowing who they were supposed to support, and they’d befriended some very competitive werewolves from the row behind them.
And when Danny had joined some of the runners for a novelty race, they’d heard the crowd go wild and got a bit teary-eyed at the whole occurrence.
How could they have predicted that they would end up here? Sitting in the crowd, cheering on their very own Olympic-style event founder, making sure a child they’d all taken responsibility for was having as good a time as they were.
It was a responsibility they were all happy to take on board, of course. It wasn’t hard to love Rosalind. According to Perry, LaFontaine’s eyes had lit up when they’d heard her name, and they’d both fallen in love when they’d got to meet her. She was quieter, compared to the other kids in the home, but she was inquisitive and always wanted to explore new things. She’d always come from the garden with a muddy dress or shorts and a great look of satisfaction. Once she got over her initial shyness, too, her trust in people was unbreakable.
The agent and the editor had resolved to sort out the adoption papers the same day they’d met her.
Everyone who met her was enchanted by her. According to her teacher at the new school she’d started at (and promptly loved), she was “a pleasure to be around,” and had a “keen desire to learn how the world works.” This, obviously, was only heightened by LaF’s attempts to get her into science. When Perry wasn’t around, and when they weren’t sorting out art from their clients, they’d get her to play with Barbies and Lego and Meccano. Currently, Rosalind’s favourite structure LaFontaine could make was the double helix. (This please LaF to no end; Rosalind was clearly following in the footsteps of the scientist with whom she shared her name, Rosalind Franklin.)
Rosalind adored “Mama Perry” and “Laffie”, but she also enjoyed being around the rest of them. She called them her aunts and uncles, and they were all smitten with her. (“Jackson would’ve loved her, too, you know,” Michael had commented one time, watching the child intently as she fell onto Danny.) When she avidly told them about her day at school and what she’d learnt, they all listened, lest the girl think they didn’t care. She was enormous fun, if not a bit tiring, and it was so rewarding to see LaFontaine and Perry putting all of their energy into being wonderful parents.
Laura could see herself doing that. One day.
And yeah, there were implications, with her soulmate being a vampire and all. But Laura was still young (26, actually), and they had plenty of time to talk about it. They were all, to some extent, still recovering from the wounds they’d all suffered.
Carmilla and her… This had given them a lot to deal with. When Carmilla had been rescued from the mountain, she hadn’t been able to do much more than kiss Laura. She’d been presumed dead for months; clearly, she hadn’t been in the right situation to talk about their relationship.
When she finally had been in a good enough position, they’d agreed to… slow things down for a bit. Laura had defied Carmilla, turned against her actually pretty justified reasons – and honestly, it was a damn miracle that no humans had been killed. So, yeah, it had been painful, but it had been needed. They’d set out what they’d wanted and steadily rebuilt what they’d had. Every kiss since then seemed more endearing, somehow, every flirty comment thrown her way floored her more.
(Laura figured that if Carmilla’s return from the mountain had been like dusting sugar on their lips, then their agreement had made it taste like grenadine.)
She cast her mind back to the day they’d told Kirsch that his brother was a vampire. That special, burning moment between them in the dingy kitchen, where the spark between had flared into flame. Laura hadn’t been joking when she’d called Carmilla her adventure. Admittedly, the vampire’s presence had brought another adventure along – one they all wished had never happened whilst simultaneously never wanting to forget – but Laura and Carmilla? They were different to that. They were an adventure in themselves – tiny gay Laura cannonballing through life, with the useless lesbian vampire by her side. (And probably complaining the whole way.)
The journalist was so glad she was sharing her life with the illustrator. She would never be able to find anyone else she’d rather live with. No one else would make it quite as exciting.
There was still one thing she was curious about, though. If they had so many years ahead of them, had their adventure really begun?
Naturally, Laura didn’t think so.
Carmilla was fairly certain Laura was being completely philosophical in this current thought process of hers. If not characterised by the wondering smile on her rounded face, then it would be evident by the fact that she hadn’t answered Carmilla’s question.
“Cutie, I’m going to take your lack of answer as an indication that you don’t want cookies to accompany this film,” the vampire sighed, snaking her hand down to Laura’s waist and squeezing her side. In front of them, the horror movie played on, unnoticed by the two inhabitants.
That brought her back to life. Or, perhaps, the mention of cookies did. “Hm, w-what?” she stammered, reacting like a deer in the headlights. “Oh. Sorry. Did you ask me a question?”
“No, no, it’s fine, creampuff. I find it positively enthralling when I’m ignored by my soulmate.”
“Caaaaaaarm,” Laura whined, pressing herself even further into her girlfriend.
The vampire mock-sighed, a smirk already present on her lips. “I asked if you’d like cookies to accompany this film. Clearly you were too busy having a philosophical moment to consider it.”
The journalist giggled, whipping up the ocean inside of her. (Carmilla very much doubted she’d ever get used to that sound.) “I wasn’t – I was just… thinking.”
“About something more important than E numbers? I find that hard to believe, coming from you,” Carmilla commented.
“Shut up,” Laura mumbled, grinning. “No, just about life, you know? About how well things have turned out. LaF and Perry have Rosalind, Kirsch and Danny are thinking about marriage, Mike’s really happy in what he does now – and we’ve got each other, as well. It’s the best thing. I’m so happy.”
Such words never failed to bring a smile to the vampire’s face. Contrary to what the Dimwit Squad might otherwise have insisted, she wasn’t a smiley person – Laura just brought it out in her. And the fact that Laura was so blissfully content in her life only proved to increase Carmilla’s own happiness.
She was a complete sap for Laura Hollis. (Or, as the Ginger Giant would put it, “Totally whipped.”) There was no point denying it. But, of course, there were far worse things to be.
“Cookies do sound pretty great, though,” Laura beamed, bringing the illustrator back to reality.
“Your wish is my command, creampuff.” She moved to get off the sofa, fling the blankets around their legs off of her – but she was stopped by a firm hand clasping her arm.
She looked back at her girlfriend, to see her eyes wide and desperate.
“Wait, Carm, don’t… Can I go with you? I’ll get more champagne,” the journalist gulped. Her eyes flickered to the screen – currently, someone was having their head chopped off – and she shuddered.
Immediately, Carmilla understood. “Come on, then.”
It was starting to become a tradition for the both of them to watch a horror movie on Hallowe’en night. They would curl up on their sofa, blanket and champagne at the ready, while the human squeaked into Carmilla’s side as the movie played out. It was one of the most adorable things the vampire had ever seen, and it amused her to no end. It also meant Laura clung extra tightly to her when they went to bed, which was always a plus.
(God, she was so whipped.)
This year, however, they were surrounded by a few photographs and toys Rosalind had left behind. Earlier, Laura had offered to babysit the child while the illustrator and her agent had talked business, and Rosalind had been showing the journalist photos from her walk with her parents, Danny and Kirsch. (Understandably, Kirsch had taken the photos, and printed them off so Rosalind could show everyone.) They’d been pictures of various bugs and beetles, some completely uninteresting and some out of the ordinary. There were a few pictures of the adults, too – LaFontaine getting subtly scolded by Perry, Danny pulling a stupid face at the camera. Laura had gone through every picture with Rosalind and had got her to talk about each one. She was wonderful with children, and Carmilla hadn’t expected any less.
“That could be your child in the future, y’know,” LaFontaine had commented breezily. “Eyes like Laura, your mentality. Actually, probably not the last one, I don’t think that’d be helpful for a little kid.”
Carmilla had rolled her eyes. “You really know how to flatter someone, Bobbsey Twin.”
LaFontaine had shrugged. “I was just saying. Maybe being glued to Camus and Nietzsche at the age of 3 isn’t the best idea for your little one.” They paused. “Don’t knock the idea, though, vamp. Having kids, I mean, not the premature philosophical broodiness. It’s really, really fun.”
Of course she’d thought about it. How could she not, when her friends had a permanent little Mini-Me walking around alongside them? Such questions were bound to come up – and so far, Carmilla had only come up with one answer.
Marriage first. Then everything else could be sorted out.
(She’d been thinking about that, too. If Laura was ready, then Carmilla was perfectly happy to ask, or be asked, with an affirmative answer. She didn’t know how they’d want to pull it off, but they were details – once again – that could be sorted at a later date. What mattered was getting through the proposing, first.)
With that – there was really no other way to put it – dauntingly euphoric thought in mind, Carmilla made her way to the kitchen, clutching to her terrified soulmate. She tried to take the journalist’s mind off the movie by kissing her (which worked a bit too well), and soon enough they stumbled back into the living room, a cookie between the vampire’s teeth and the packet in her hand, while Laura was still holding the champagne bottle.
“Will you ever tell me where you get this ridiculously expensive champagne from, so I can surprise you with it one day?” her girlfriend wondered, now safely back under the blanket.
“Where would be the surprise in th—ah, shit,” Carmilla cursed. She’d stepped on Rosalind’s Barbie, and promptly cursed herself for not detecting it despite her vampiric constitution.
“If Rosie brings any more toys over, we’ll have to find a cupboard to store all of her stuff. We can’t have you tripping over it constantly,” Laura teased, pouring more champagne into their wine glasses.
Carmilla just rolled her eyes.
They settled back down again, embracing each other as the tension started building in the movie. The illustrator could’ve stayed like that forever, her chest rising and falling in time with Laura’s, Laura’s warmth seeping into her. Considering how overactive her girlfriend was – thanks to the movie, and in part to the champagne – she was completely at peace.
She was sick of eternity, but if she could spend it like this – well, then she wouldn’t really mind it at all. Endless embraces, babysitting her friends’ children, maybe even her own. Mircalla Karnstein, Duchess of Styria could never have expected a lifetime like this.
“Do you want kids one day?” Laura murmured, as the action in the movie lulled temporarily. Perhaps the champagne had loosened the human’s tongue – but either way, it was a loaded question. Carmilla wasn’t sure how to proceed.
Eventually, she settled for the only answer she could give. “I’m flattered you asked, cupcake, but I think I’d like to get married first.”
“That’s – good, yeah,” the brunette stammered. She adjusted her hold on Carmilla, and settled deeper, sighing contentedly. “Thanks for telling me.”
“You’re welcome, sweetheart.”
Quietness descended as they continued watching the movie. It had reached its climax – the big event to resolve the situation – and the vampire barely registered what was happening as more and more people were killed. (It wasn’t like she’d never seen those techniques of killing with her own eyes before.) Laura wasn’t reacting either; obviously, she was deep her in own thoughts also.
And that was probably why she managed to muster up the courage to ask.
“Laura.”
“Mmhmm?” The tiny gay journalist had started tracing lazy circles on Carmilla’s hand with her thumb.
“Will you marry me?”
The circles halted. Time seemed to do the same. “W-What?”
And, really, what point was there in deliberating?
“Laura, I think I’d like to marry you. We’ve both been thinking about it, and I’m aware there are issues involving my nature, but at this moment there is nothing stopping us from going forward and getting married. And, yes, I’m aware that if you say yes, I’d have to propose in front of your friends so you get the grand gesture you deserve, but all I could think about was how I much I love you and how much I would like to sp—”
Carmilla was interrupted by Laura pouncing on her. Actual, literal pouncing. A guttural sound of surprise caught in the vampire’s throat as her soulmate kissed her. That did not mean, however, that she was complaining about this somewhat amusing development.
“You’re such a sap, Carm,” Laura grinned (a smile mirrored by the illustrator), her nose touching Carmilla’s. “Of course I’ll marry you.”
In that moment, the vampire was aware of two things. Firstly, Laura’s heart was pumping at an amazing rate, almost like a hummingbird’s, from where it was situated above the illustrator.
Secondly, she knew that Laura was worth all the pain she’d suffered. Every moment of terror, every moment of loss. All for a moment such as this.
It had taken 334 years for Carmilla to find her soulmate. If she was asked, she’d do it all again. Just so she could be with this awkward, beautiful human she loved so much.
Even after everything, she would choose Laura every time.
Out in the mountains, where no movement had been felt for two years, a deep rumbling emanated from deep underground, set off by a screech from something wholly unearthly.
A sound reminiscent of aeons past.