intrepidity

Aurora didn't leave his side.

Not for lunch. Not for fresh air. Not even when Aiden gently nudged the door open mid-afternoon and suggested she take a walk to stretch her legs, his voice low and patient.

She only curled up tighter into Marcus's side on the bed, arms draped lightly over his waist, her head tucked carefully against his shoulder like she was trying to memorize the rhythm of his heartbeat. Every so often, her fingers would curl in the fabric of his hoodie, as if making sure he wouldn't disappear if she blinked.

"She hasn't budged," Alec whispered to Elias just outside the door.

Elias sighed, concern soft in his expression as he glanced at the untouched mug in his hand. "I brought her tea over an hour ago. Still warm. She hasn't even noticed it."

"Think we should make her get up?" Alec asked, though even he didn't sound sure.

Aiden, standing a little further down the hall with arms folded but eyes trained on the cracked door, answered before either of them could.

"No," he said quietly. "Let her be."

Because he understood—more than anyone.

Aurora had nearly lost Marcus. Had seen him lying there in the cold, sterile hospital bed, still and unmoving, blood staining the ground beneath him. She'd held onto Elias's hand like it was the only thing tethering her to the world while the doctors fought to keep Marcus awake. That memory hadn't faded. Not even in the warmth of the manor's safety. Not even now, with Marcus alive and home.

Now that he was here—breathing, warm, real—she wasn't going to risk letting go. Not even for a second.

And Marcus, for his part, didn't complain.

He wasn't a cuddler. Not naturally. He was the gruff one, the snappy one, the first to shove someone off the couch if they got too close. He didn't do affection—at least, not the obvious kind.

Except now.

Now, with his baby sister clinging to him like a heartbeat, her tiny hand resting lightly on his chest as if to make sure it still rose and fell, Marcus didn't move. Didn't speak. Barely breathed too loud. Not out of discomfort—but because she needed this more than he needed space.

Even when she gently guided Thumper—her beloved plush rabbit—into his arms and whispered, "Hold him for me while I fix the blanket, you'll feel better," he obeyed without protest. His bruised fingers curled awkwardly around the plush bunny's fuzzy belly, his expression unreadable but oddly soft.

Alec, checking in quietly, poked his head in and promptly choked on a laugh.

There he was: Marcus Valenti, stitched-up, scowling, and deadly... holding a stuffed rabbit like it was the most natural thing in the world.

"You're lucky I'm on bedrest," Marcus muttered when he caught the look on Alec's face.

Alec just smirked. "You love it."

"I'll punch you."

"With what strength?" Alec quipped, grinning.

But Marcus didn't argue further. He just shifted slightly so Aurora could tuck the blanket around both of them better, one arm remaining cradled protectively around her shoulder, Thumper now squished between them like an honorary member of the family.

Maybe he did love it. Just a little. 

-

The day passed like that—quiet and soft.