Page 115 of Academy of the Wicked, Year One
I observe them all, noting how their auras interact — Damien's crimson energy flaring wild and uncertain, Nikolai's golden light maintaining its steady rhythm despite the provocation, and Cassius's shadows coiling tighter as if preparing for whatever comes next.
The scene before me speaks volumes about the intricate balance they've maintained all these years. A balance now threatened not just by Gwenivere's presence, but by the changes she's catalyzed in each of them.
Damien's outburst reveals more than just anger at the situation. His accusation of "friendship of convenience" carries echoes of older wounds and deeper fears.
The irony isn't lost on me.
As one of the Seven, I've watched their dynamic evolve over the years and noted the ways they circle each other like planets locked in precise orbits.
Always close, but never quite allowing true connection.
Now Gwenivere's presence has disrupted those orbits, forcing them to confront truths they've spent centuries avoiding. And Damien, perhaps more than the others, seems to be struggling with these changes.
His words about convenience and friendship reveal layers of insecurity that his usual cockiness masks well. The way he emphasizes Gwenivere's impact suggests less jealousy of her specifically and more fear of how she's changing the dynamic he's come to rely on.
How easily she’s been able to bring them on her side while he’s struggling to keep them together.
In their dynamic, most assumed he was the leader, but if he can’t seem to pull them into his circle of favor, it could mean his “leadership” is dwindling.
"So a woman…a hybrid who demonstrates she can be a threat to that sinister, cocky vampire side of yours…shows up and takes what you enjoy using when your needy cock is begging for it," Nikolai murmurs, his voice dangerously soft. "And now you're mad because she shows genuine desire and intrigue for what you've marked as a toy of relief."
The tension pulsing between them is maddening.
I can feel it building like a storm about to break, crackling with the potential for violence.
Cassius sighs heavily, his shadows writhing with multiplying agitation.
"This shouldn't become such a dilemma that breaks us apart," he says, his voice carrying notes of rarely displayed concern. "Sure, the little mouse has proven to be different — not like us tainted fuckers so used to this system of restitution and unsparing solitude — but we don't know where school will take us. Why are we tossing our friendship over..." he pauses, "well, over a girl?"
Nikolai huffs out a laugh entirely devoid of humor.
"This isn't about Gwenivere." His eyes narrow as he meets Damien's gaze, his lips curving into a cunning smirk. "This is about Gabriel, isn't it? Does he drive your cock wild?"
The punch happens so fast even my enhanced senses barely register it. Damien's fist connects with Nikolai's lip in one brutal movement, the impact echoing through the chamber.
My jaw drops as I process what just happened.
Cassius, who had been about to speak, falls silent, his expression shifting from annoyance to something close to horror.
"You did not just punch a Fae," he whispers, the words carrying centuries of understood consequences.
They've fought before, certainly — but Damien has learned each time that physically harming a Fae never ends well.
If there's one universal truth about their kind, it's this:
They hold grudges.
Eternal ones unless gracing their victim forgiveness…
Nikolai's laugh fills the chamber as he wipes blood from his split lip. His tongue darts out to taste the crimson drops, his eyes never leaving Damien's face.
"So my assumption is valid," he concludes, satisfaction dripping from every word.
Damien bites his lip, fury and something else —something closer to fear— warring in his expression.
"If you're going to stand by that newcomer's side, I’m out," he declares, his voice ringing with attempted authority as if he truly believes he can dictate terms in this situation.
Nikolai chuckles, nodding as he gestures toward the door.
