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"I'm not really sure why we have to do it," Arabella huffs, crossed arms on the table. She rests her chin on them and blows out a strand out of her eyes. Her sparkly nail polish is cracked on her thumb, bitten off. Next to her in an oversized sweater that Nevada has definitely seen on Alessandro, Catalina smirks. She watches as Arabella keeps blowing on that strand before she sighs and reaches over pushing out of their sister's face.
Nevada hates to admit she's been thinking of doing the same thing.
"The Tremaine estates are technically ours by birth, so unfortunately with Victoria sunbathing in jail we do have to handle the day to day shit that needs a blood relative to handle it. It's not my favourite thing to be doing today either, but it's best to get it done and out of the way until next year."
Catalina really has taken to the being Head of the family like a duck to water. She's smooth and polished and holds on her perfection like a shield. She's probably even better than Nevada herself was at managing all the politics, but she's still her little sister and Nevada knows just how hard her little size seven and half feet are paddling under the water. She hates that she couldn't have protected her from this. Connor says she made the best choice she could have at the time, but Nevada still wonders.
“I hate she makes you do this,” Nevada bitches, because she’s allowed. The fact that Victoria has her claws in her little sister makes her skin crawl.
"It's only one day," Catalina repeats.
"Worst day of the year," grumbles Arabella from the cradle of her arms. She lifts one hand up to throw a middle finger up either situation or Catalina. Who knows. Catalina flicks her finger.
Nevada snorts. One day Arabella will unleash herself on the world and Nevada prays they’ll be ready.
After all, being Victoria Tremaine's granddaughters requires a certain amount of backbone, people would say. Nevada would say all the backbone they have was inherited from their Mom and Grandma Frida. Her sisters would agree. Everything that they've ever gotten from Victoria, outside of their father's love, has been less of a blessing and more of a curse. Curses that have forced each of them to shape themselves into the women they are now. Curses which they have turned into gifts; through fire and blood and tears. If not for the Baylor blood in them, Nevada sometimes wonders if they would have made it through.
Catalina would say she's being stubborn in ignoring the power that Victoria's blood and her twisted experiments have sparked in them.
She’s not wrong, exactly, but like Arabella would say: fuck the old lady in the eye. Possibly not to Victoria's face, but Nevada wouldn't put it outside the realm of possibility knowing her baby sister.
Both her kid sisters have grown into formidable young women, Nevada is proud to say. And yeah, sure, maybe they would both claim she coddled and protected them too much growing up, but Catalina never had to see their mother and father going wild with worry when people would try to grab at her. She doesn't remember all the times it happened.
For a lot of them she was too young, but once, not long after Arabella was born, they had all been in the mall. Their father had taken Arabella to a changing room and their mother had been looking in her purse, but Nevada had noticed it: quicker than her small body had been able to react, she watched as a man had picked up a sleeping Catalina right from the shared stroller and started walking away. Nevada had screamed until her lungs ached and her mother had reacted with the military precision she would later teach them all. The man had been lucky to be alive after that.
By the time Catalina had woken up, she’d been in their mother's arms, too small to understand her mother's tears at the time. Their father and Arabella had rushed over seconds later, but Nevada would never forget those moments. By the time Catalina was old enough to understand, they had created pretty much a solid system when it came to taking Catalina out in public until she learned to control her powers.
Of course that was around the first time Arabella first transformed in a fit of tears.
They don't credit Grandma Frida enough for being the only one at the time to have kept her cool and soothed Arabella back into her human form, small face red blotched with tears, blond hair matted and sweaty from fear and frustration. Her parents had frozen in those few seconds when Arabella reverted, but Grandma Frida had rushed over and picked up the small Arabella, cuddling her closer until her parents had rushed in to squeeze her between them. Nevada and Catalina will never tell their baby sister she gave them nightmares that night and for many nights afterwards.
"Ditto to that," Nevada agrees and hefts herself up. Pregnancy is no joke and post-pregnancy doesn't play either. Her entire body is still healing, her boobs are still massive, her leak proof bra is digging into her side, and she's seriously considering never letting Rogan look at her vagina again. Still, she's glad she's doing this after the fact, that the baby is far away in his maternal grandmother's care for the day while Nevada and her sisters deal with the shit of being heirs to the Tremaine magic.
-
Thankfully they don’t have to fly out East to do this, because if that was the case odds are it would never get done, but their grandmother is a beyond wealthy woman and has a very nice eight room mansion in one of the more uppity neighbourhoods of the city. Linus, to put everything into perspective, is literally just down the street.
Like Linus’ house, the Tremaine Texan estate is pretty much a small fortress protected with layers upon layers of magic that they very quickly realised they could get through with little issue, just in case their bloodline was ever in question.
Blood magic is a powerful thing.
That’s the whole issue actually. Part of the deal Catalina has struck up with Victoria. They have to keep Tremaine magic alive and Victoria keeps to her side of the deal. The fine print is the kicker though; they have to pump some magic into the Tremaine sigil at least once a year so the rest of their magical empire doesn’t crumble around them.
Nevada would allow it to crumble, to be perfectly honest, but after a nice long and exasperating talk with Connor, Linus, and Connor’s mom, they explained why doing so would be a bad idea. Of course, now that Nevada is longer part of House Baylor and Catalina is Head of House, Nevada can’t conduct the ritual herself. That’s a job for her sister now, as it has to be a Head of House, one who is of Tremaine blood, to even wake the magic.
Still, Nevada is the oldest and she’d never let her sister walk into the lion’s den that is their grandmother’s house alone if she can help it.
The sigil is in the middle a floor standing in what is essentially an underground ballroom within Victoria’s estate in Huston. Within it there are five smaller circles that touch the main circle, lines intersecting from each circle to the others, creating almost a circular spiderweb on the floor. In the middle of the web there's a smaller circle that is overlapped by three others, similar to where a Venn diagram meets a triquetra. The Tremaine rune right smack dab in the middle.
Catalina walks into the middle of that space, making sure to stay within that middle circle. Arabella stands in one of the circles at the edge and Nevada in another.
There is room for more Tremaine in this space. Five Primes or Significants to stand around and strengthen the House once a year. Maybe once their father would have been here. Nevada will die before she lets her son come close.
“Okay, ready?” Catalina asks from the middle.
Arabella sighs and nods. “Yeah, yeah, let’s get the show on the road.”
Catalina, Head of House Baylor, looks at Nevada for confirmation. Sometimes no matter what your position is in the world, you still need your big sister to let you know everything is okay.
Nevada offers her an encouraging smile and nods. “Start us off.”
Catalina returns the smile, looking more in control, and pumps her magic into the circle she stands in.
The lines flare to life and Nevada shivers when the circle begins to light up. With a look to Arabella, they follow suit and pump their own magic into the ground.
The web flares bright. In it she can almost touch her sisters’ magic. The enthralling call of Catalina’s magic, the intensity of the protective chaos which shines from Arabella. Even Nevada’s own magic as well: white hot like a blade just out of the forge. Together their magic mingles, sliding across one another’s with a warm, tender comfort.
Under it, there is the power of the Tremaine magic tied deep into the roots of the circle. Victoria’s magic is faint but they all can still feel it.
It slithers like a snake under their own. If she was here, she’d destroy them in a single strike. Nevada hopes they never have to go against their grandmother like this, on her turf, even though she’s well aware that’s what Victoria wants.
Suddenly, in the middle Catalina moves. She reaches into her pocket and pulls out a small switchblade. A Christmas gift from Rogan. He got everyone in the family one. They’re all engraved with their names and protection runes.
Nevada and Arabella pull out their own.
The magic around them sings and soothes and they don’t have to look at each other as they slide their thumbs in synchronization.
Magic flares.
All around them the web burns hot. Blue flames rise and fall for a long second and then every stops.
The room grows silent, all sound sucked out, almost as if a flash bomb has gone off.
It rushes back at them at once and Nevada is grateful again to be able to hear her sisters. Their breathing is in sync and slightly out of breath as if they’ve run for miles.
None of them say anything until the magic settles back into the web and the lines stop glowing.
Arabella is the first to break the silence, sucking on her sliced thumb. “For the record, I hate doing this.”
“I appreciate your sacrifice,” Catalina grins, pulling out a bandage from her pocket while flipping her switchblade shut. She walks over to Nevada first and offers her a Hello Kitty bandaid. Nevada can’t help grin as she takes it; Arabella is offered Batz Maru. She uses My Melody for herself.
“How are you two feeling?” Nevada asks, because she can’t help herself. Yes, her sisters are grown women. Arabella is going to graduate in barely a year and has more confidence than half the family put together. Catalina is the Head of House. She has a hot boyfriend and an affinity for swords, but no matter what they’re still her sisters, her responsibility.
Arabella swings her arm over Nevada’s shoulder. “I believe I was promised ice cream and tacos after this. And a drama marathon of my choice!”
“You drive a hard bargain. Will Stephen be the main character?” Catalina teases as they leave the room.
At the threshold, Nevada looks back at the room, already dreading knowing they need to come back in one year. She wishes she could burn it down; it lights a fire in her stomach, her magic flickering then settling once she steadies her breathing.
Arabella is shushing Catalina, who looks over at Nevada, mouth parted in a half-formed retort. Nevada can see the same feeling reflected in her sister’s eyes though. This house full of Tremaine magic gnaws at them like a starving animal with poison in its teeth.
They do this because they need to. They’re still vulnerable as a House, despite their reputation, and any attack could make a dent.
Still, no matter that Nevada is a part of House Rogan, she will always be House Baylor in heart and blood. And despite Victoria’s ceaseless efforts, neither she nor her sisters will ever be part of House Tremaine.
If Victoria thinks she has them on the ropes, they’ll keep letting her, because for now it’s better, easier— it’s easier to catch a snake if you let it slither close.
-
As they leave the estate, in her comfortable room, Victoria Tremaine receives a phone call letting her know everything went well, just like in the last couple years.
She smiles and drags her finger across a photo that had been sent to her last week. Her son’s daughters sitting together sharing what seems to be a nice lunch in an outdoor cafe. Nevada’s baby, the son of Mad Rogan and a symbol of his House, in his grandmother’s arms.
Victoria can’t wait to hold her legacy once more. Shape it the way it should have been done before.
-
In the car half way home, Arabella’s phone rings.
She puts it on speaker for Catalina and Nevada.
“You three managed?”
Nevada glances at Catalina to her side and Arabella in the rearview mirror. She waves her hand at Catalina, who rolls her eyes, despite the pleased purse of her lips. Sometimes, Nevada knows, it’s better to give the reins over to someone else. And Catalina has earned those reins and so much more.
“Yeah, we managed.”
“Good job, ladies,” Connor says, his rough voice filled with unmistakable pride. “Tacos are on me, ‘Ella.”
Arabella lets out a whooping shout. “This is why you’re my favourite brother!”
“I’m your only brother,” Connor responds, voice flat, but Nevada knows her husband well enough to hear the smile in it.
Every year Nevada worries about what they do in that house, what they pump into that web, but also what they might be pulling out.
Magic, and especially blood magic, can be tricky, and you can either be a blunt instrument or an invisible tool.
Victoria thinks she’s the latter, but she’s not. And hopefully then can use that and her arrogance will pay off, finally allowing them to break chains she’s woven around them and their family and their futures.
Until then, Nevada is content to lean back and listen to the sound of her sisters’ laughter.