Chapter Text
Despite her terrifying sister, Ezra Deamonne asks Ellie Clawthorne out. And despite his nerves, they have a wonderful evening, and make plans to go out the following. Dancing.
He arrived twenty minutes early to pick Ellie up for their date, despite his fear of Ellie’s terrifying sister, to the door being opened by a human man with very ruffled hair.
“Hi,” he said, “I’m—”
“That’s Caleb, my sister’s boyfrienddddddd!” squealed Ellie, her head resting on Caleb’s shoulder. She squeezed his cheeks with her fingers, and Caleb didn’t look too shocked, which made Ezra seriously consider whether he’d just been forcibly adjusted to Ellie’s… Ellieness.
He liked that.
If Caleb had been mean to Ellie, Ezra didn’t care if he was Arianna “Slices Islands From Mountain To The Shore, Even The Titan Trembles At Her Rage” Clawthorne’s boyfriend. Ezra would beat him up. And then probably die. But beat him up first.
“Yes, yes,” Ellie chattered, “My sister’s a very lucky woman, now—”
She shoved Caleb down and under her armpit, before pushing him away. “Let me say hello to Ezra, you weirdo!”
Caleb tsked, but suspiciously, just sighed.
Ellie’s hair was still damp, little curls beading at her forehead. If not for Caleb’s presence, and being in her sister’s house, he would have leaned over to kiss them.
“I need to get ready,” tuts Ellie, pulling him back to the present, “Because you’re a freak who always comes early to things.”
“See you soon, cutie,” giggles Ellie, pecking a kiss on his cheek and suddenly, he’s smiling all giddy like an idiot, wide and unguarded and she’s skipping up the stairs, humming like a little shit while he’s trying not to run after her and say something cheesy like, “I’m awesome, you’re so awesome, let’s cut to the chase and just get married already”.
He knows he has a tendency to get carried away with things, especially when they’re going well—and the knowledge does nothing to dull his feelings for Ellie.
Suddenly, everything feels cold, and he meets Arianna Clawthorne’s piercing gaze, leaning against the kitchen door.
“You enjoyed yourself last night, right?” Arianna suddenly asks, and his head spins a little from the sheer frost dripping from her voice, instead of the usual smooth, disinterested tone she takes with him. He’s never thought she much cared for his existence, until now, until her collected silhouette decides to take a step out of the doorframe.
Ezra blinks a few times, then decides his best option is to smile tentatively. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t,” he explains, because he feels like honesty is the only reason Arianna’s not touching him right now and he thinks, with shocking clarity, that Caleb’s left the room and he’s never been alone with Arianna before.
So, he answers her question genuinely, thinking of her little sister’s wide smile.
“Your sister’s wonderful. She seems… she seems too good to be true, you know?”
“I do know,” Arianna says with a small, dark chuckle.
“And… I want her to think I’m wonderful, too. I take it that… everything hasn’t been good, all the time?”
He doesn’t know why he risks it, but Arianna’s short hum tells him that it was the right one. She doesn’t answer, but her gaze is shrewd and calculating. He doesn’t really expect her to answer, anyways. It’s Ellie’s story to tell.
“And you know,” he tries, feeling his toes start to sting from the cold, “Although I probably would, even if we’d just walked out of here as friends, but if that’s the case, then fuck those people.”
Arianna tilts her heads quickly again, and her close-lipped smile widens. “You mean that?” she challenges.
He snorts at her.
“Of course.”
Then, he pauses and looks down at the lint collecting on his trousers and picks a little at it. He nods again, sharper, without a doubt, because he does mean it and it feels kind of like an important realisation. “Maybe those people in the past didn’t see how amazing she is, but I promise that I do.”
Then, before he can even blink, Arianna is standing in front of him, leaning threateningly over his head, and he can’t even register whether to fight or flight because honestly, he’s just hoping she doesn’t kill him before he’s able to see Ellie in her new, nice dress that she’s been so excited to show off dancing tonight, even if he’s a shit dancer. He’d like to live long enough to get better at it.
“In case you were wondering,” Arianna says, her voice dripping with smoke, “I could kill you at least twenty-three ways with nothing but the things on my living room table.”
“I wasn’t,” he answers, and marvels that he even has a voice to speak with.
“So,” she clicks her tongue, rests her hand against his shoulder, “Here’s what you’re going to do if you’re serious about my sister and she decides, for some fucking reason, that she’s serious about you, too.”
He knows, by the tone of her voice, that it’s on his life. He wonders if he should be taking notes.
“You’re going to be good to Ellie. You’re going to be good to my one sister. She’s the only one I got. Remember that. And remember that while she might be your girlfriend, or maybe even wife, she’s my sister. And that comes first.”
He nods.
He blinks, and he hasn’t lost a testicle yet.
“You’re not going to push her into anything that she’s uncomfortable with. Even mildly. Enthusiastic consent is the only way you’re going to continue to be able to physically have sex. You’re going to treat my sister with all the respect she deserves, because she deserves a damn lot. She deserves everything you can do, and then more.”
Her gaze burns. Somehow, the room gets colder.
He nods again.
“You’re not going to hurt her intentionally, because then I’m going to find you and teach you the true fucking meaning of hurt, and anything unintentional will still be weighed very carefully. By me. And if I think there is a problem, you can be sure, no matter where you are, that I’ll let you know.”
“Are we clear?” her voice echoes in the small living room, and notices that the walls are shaking.
“This is the shovel talk, isn’t it?” he tries, asking with sudden clarity. And not at all surprisingly, she doesn’t answer. “I get it,” he continues, “I hurt him, you hurt me a thousand times worse. We’re very, very, very clear, Arianna Clawthorne.”
She gives him a slightly dangerous look at the use of her name, but still, she pulls away, laughing softly. “It’s funny that you think I would only hurt you.”
“I can assure you that there would be a literal shovel in that scenario.”
He desperately hopes that it’s morbid humour and not just… humour.
“For the record,” he feels inclined to point out, “I was planning on doing all those things you mentioned anyways. You being spooky didn’t suddenly make me fear for my life if I don’t respect her. I love her, of course, I’m going to respect her.”
“I might not very good at,” he gestures around the room, “This whole love thing, but for your sister, I can promise you that I’m going to give it the best shot of my life.”
Arianna’s face softens minutely as she turns to gaze at him over her shoulder. “Oh,” she says, sounding pleased and something else he can’t describe, “I know. And don’t sell yourself short. From what my sister’s said about you, and man, does she like talking about you, you’re pretty good at it. I admire that about you.”
She winks.
“Don’t tell anyone I said that. I’ll lose my reputation.”
She’s regarding with an almost terrifying expression—like she’s smiling and yet, she’s not. He wants to say that he doesn’t think she needs to worry about him blabbing to anyone; even if he did, and he said that Arianna Clawthorne had told him he was good at love and she admired that about him, well, no one would fucking believe him.
Because she was Arianna Clawthorne. And she ate men for breakfast.
“Enjoy your evening with my sister,” she says evenly, “Have her back by midnight.”
He has to applaud her ruthless tactics, or be utterly frightened, so he nods. And she mimics him, nodding approvingly as she wraps her thin fingers around the handle, and finally says, “Then, we’re good here.”
And with that, she and her terrifying cold is gone, and off hopefully, to haunt some other poor bastard.
He blinks several times and sees Caleb walking down the stairs with an apologetic expression.
With a shiver running down his spine, he realises that she didn’t even cast a single spell.