Hidden Agendas II

Kylian materialized amidst the swaying reeds of the Whispering Fields, the familiar scent of wildflowers and damp earth filling his senses. Tonight, however, the air crackled with a different kind of energy, an anticipation that made his pulse quicken. He was here to see Hildegard, but more importantly, to meet the newest addition to the Rutherford line.

As if summoned by his thoughts, a shimmering portal flickered into existence, and Hildegard stepped through. Gone was the usual playful glint in her emerald eyes, replaced by a profound love that shone brighter than any spell. In her arms, cradled with the utmost tenderness, was a baby girl. Red hair, as fiery as Hildegard's own, framed a face that mirrored Hildegard's delicate features. But the eyes... those were unlike anything Kylian had ever seen. They were the color of the deepest emerald, sparkling with an otherworldly glow that seemed to pierce right through him.

"Kylian, this is Aisling Rutherford," Hildegard announced, her voice brimming with pride, "daughter of my brother Fionn and Caoimhe Rutherford."

Kylian's breath hitched. Aisling was breathtakingly beautiful, a tiny human wrapped in a potent magic that pulsed in the air around her. But his surprise went beyond her appearance. "You came through a portal?"

Hildegard offered a wry smile. "Normally, such a feat would be beyond me. But Aisling, she seems to have… awakened something within me."

"Awakened something?" Kylian echoed, his curiosity piqued.

"Her magic, Kylian," Hildegard explained, a hint of awe in her voice. "It's incredibly strong. Apparently, it stems from her mother's lineage. Caoimhe is a third-generation pureblood witch."

Kylian's surprise morphed into something akin to shock. Third-generation magic was practically unheard of, especially amongst the Rutherfords. Fionn, Hildegard's brother, was a dormant witch, as were most of their bloodline. Dormant magic, the result of interbreeding with other species, was looked down upon by the purist factions within House Rutherford.

"Fionn hit the jackpot," Kylian remarked, a touch of amusement in his voice. Dormant witches often faced prejudice, so for Fionn to marry a pureblood was a coup.

Hildegard's smile faltered slightly. "Indeed," she murmured, a flicker of something unreadable crossing her eyes.

Kylian, oblivious to the undercurrent of her emotions, reached out a hand towards Aisling, yearning to touch the impossibly perfect child.

"Careful, Kylian," Hildegard cautioned, gently pulling Aisling back. "Remember, a witch's touch…"

"I wouldn't mind the shock," Kylian countered, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Anything to hold such a wonder."

His words hung heavy in the air. Hildegard felt a pang of jealousy twist through her. Kylian had never offered to endure the electrocution it would take to simply touch her. She, his best friend, the one who had always been by his side, remained an untouchable enigma.

Aisling, sensing the tension, let out a gurgle, her emerald eyes locking onto Kylian's with an uncanny focus. Kylian felt a strange pull towards the child, a connection deeper than he could explain. He yearned to be closer, to somehow unravel the mystery that swirled around her.

Hildegard watched the exchange, a bitter sweetness blooming in her chest. Aisling was undoubtedly special, but a part of her couldn't help but wonder – was it the baby that captivated Kylian, or the magic she unknowingly wielded?

Hildegard hesitated for a beat, her emerald eyes shimmering with worry. "But Kylian, you could be seriously hurt. A baby witch's magic is unpredictable, but…" she trailed off, unable to deny the yearning in his gaze. Aisling, as if sensing the tension, gurgled and reached out a chubby hand, her emerald eyes sparkling with an innocent curiosity.

Kylian's lips curved into a charmingly devilish grin. "Hildegard, darling," he drawled, his voice laced with his usual dark humor, "where's your sense of adventure? Besides," he added, his voice softening, "how can I resist that face?"

With a sigh that was half surrender and half exasperation, Hildegard gently lowered Aisling into his arms. The moment Kylian's skin brushed against the baby's, a jolt of electricity ripped through him. It was unlike anything he'd ever experienced. Adult witches, yes, their touch could pack a punch, but this – this was pure, raw power coursing through him. Yet, through the pain, a strange exhilaration surged through him. He gritted his teeth, a bead of sweat forming on his brow, but his eyes remained fixed on Aisling.

The little witch, oblivious to the chaos she was causing, cooed and reached out, her tiny fingers brushing against his cheek. Then, with a mischievous glint in her emerald eyes, she grabbed his nose and gave it a playful tug. Kylian couldn't help but chuckle, the sound a low rumble that vibrated through him despite the pain. He winced as a trickle of blood snaked down his nose, but his expression remained one of pure amusement.

Hildegard watched in a mixture of horror and fascination. Kylian, usually so graceful and aloof, was now a mess – pale, sweaty, and bleeding. Yet, he held onto Aisling with an unwavering determination, his blue eyes sparkling with an emotion she couldn't quite decipher.

"Easy there, little firecracker," Kylian murmured, his voice rough around the edges. He shifted slightly, ignoring the fresh jolt of electricity that shot through him. Aisling, seemingly appeased by his attention, reached out again, this time wrapping her tiny hand around his finger. The second her touch grazed his lips, a different kind of jolt ran through him. It wasn't the harsh bite of electricity, but a warmth, a connection unlike anything he'd ever felt. It was subtle, yet undeniable.

Hildegard gasped. This wasn't normal. A witch's magic rarely affected vampires in such a way. Panic clawed at her throat as she saw another trickle of blood snake down Kylian's chin, staining his perfectly sculpted face.

"Kylian, that's enough!" she exclaimed, her voice sharp with worry. Ignoring his playful protests, she gently but firmly pried Aisling from his grasp.

Kylian winced at the sudden loss of warmth, but a tired smile played on his lips. "See, Hildegard? All perfectly fine," he mumbled, wiping the blood from his nose with the back of his hand. Fine, perhaps not. But the connection he'd felt with Aisling, that strange warmth… it was worth the pain.

Hildegard, however, wasn't convinced. Her heart pounded in her chest, a mixture of anger and a strange, possessive protectiveness towards Kylian. He was his usual reckless self, always pushing boundaries, always flirting with danger. But this time, it was different. This time, he'd played with fire, and the flames had almost burned him.

A silent vow formed in her heart. She wouldn't let him get this close to Aisling again. Not until she understood what that connection meant, not until she unraveled the mystery that swirled around the little witch with the emerald eyes. Jealousy, sharp and bitter, twisted in her gut. But for Kylian, she would endure it. She would protect him, even from himself, even if it meant keeping him at arm's length, even if it meant forever remaining just his best friend.

Kylian leaned against a gnarled willow tree, letting out a shaky breath. The walk through the Whispering Fields, usually a source of calm, had been a struggle. His body still vibrated with the aftershocks of Aisling's touch, a strange mix of exhaustion and exhilaration coursing through him.

"You look like you wrestled a particularly grumpy pixie," Hildegard remarked, a hint of amusement in her emerald eyes.

Kylian chuckled, wiping a stray bead of sweat from his brow. "Something like that. Though, I must admit, little Aisling packs a punch for such a tiny creature."

Hildegard's smile faltered slightly. "Indeed. She seems… particularly strong for a babe."

They lapsed into a comfortable silence, the sound of rustling leaves and chirping crickets filling the air. As they walked, Kylian couldn't help but notice a slight change in Hildegard's demeanor. A hint of worry clouded her usually bright eyes.

"So," he began, his voice laced with his usual dark humor, "any pressure from the coven yet? You are, after all, at the ripe old age of marriageable."

Hildegard's cheeks flushed a delicate pink. "Oh, yes," she admitted, her voice barely a whisper. "The whispers have begun. Talks of duty and strengthening the bloodline."

"Strengthening the bloodline, eh? And who, pray tell, is the lucky suitor the coven has chosen for you?" Kylian inquired, his curiosity piqued.

Hildegard hesitated for a beat, then met his gaze with a wry smile. "Leofwine. Uncle Leofwine."

Kylian blinked, momentarily thrown off balance. "Uncle Leofwine? Isn't that… unorthodox? Don't they usually pair you off with cousins? Brothers, in extreme circumstances?"

Hildegard nodded. "Indeed. But you see, Kylian, being a dormant witch…" Her voice trailed off, a flicker of bitterness crossing her features.

"Dormant or not, you're brilliant, Hildegard. Everyone knows it. Surely a little magic spark wouldn't outweigh all that."

Hildegard sighed, a deep sadness lingering in her eyes. "Magic isn't just about power, Kylian. It's about legacy. A dormant witch, no matter how skilled, can't pass on the full potential. Marrying a pureblood like Leofwine ensures a stronger bloodline, more pureblood witches."

A tense silence descended between them. Kylian's playful demeanor had vanished, replaced by a steely glint in his blue eyes. "Do you like him, Hildegard?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous. "Because if you don't, I'll happily break his nose for you and make that whole 'duty' thing a moot point."

Hildegard let out a peal of laughter, the sound echoing through the moonlit fields. "Oh, Kylian," she teased, shaking her head. "Leofwine wouldn't take kindly to that. Besides, I think your nose would be the one getting broken. He's a fire witch, remember? Burns like a dragon."

Kylian snorted. "Don't underestimate me, love. I've dealt with worse."

Hildegard's smile faltered. "Leofwine isn't just any fire witch, Kylian. He's a third generation. The older the generation, the stronger the magic."

Kylian sighed, a dark cloud settling over his features. "Then perhaps," he began, his voice dropping to a husky whisper, "I should kidnap you instead. Take you back to Hawkrige. Valaric and Kaelith wouldn't mind the company. And…" His gaze drifted towards Aisling, nestled peacefully in Hildegard's arms. "…I wouldn't be able to keep my eyes off that little firecracker."

Hildegard's heart hammered in her chest. A blush crept up her neck, a mixture of fear and a strange yearning warming her insides. "Kylian," she began, her voice barely above a whisper, "Leofwine is handsome, as are all Rutherford witches. It's not like I dislike him… I am attracted to him. But…"

She hesitated, the words catching in her throat. How could she confess her true feelings, the love she'd harbored for him for years, a love that burned brighter than any fire witch's magic?

"But what, Hildegard?" Kylian pressed, his gaze unwavering.

Hildegard opened her mouth to speak, but the words died on her lips. A loud crack of thunder split the night sky, momentarily bathing the clearing in an eerie blue light. In the distance, a swirling vortex of crimson magic began to form. A shiver ran down Hildegard's spine.

"Someone's coming," Hildegard whispered, her grip tightening on Aisling.

Kylian smirked, a playful glint in his eyes. "Relax, love. Looks like our walk has come to an end." He leaned down, brushing his lips against Aisling's forehead with a tenderness that sent a pang through Hildegard's heart. "See you soon, little firecracker," he murmured, then with a wink at Hildegard, vanished into the shadows.

A moment later, Leofwine materialized beside her, his fiery red hair glowing faintly in the moonlight. "Hildegard?" he boomed, his voice laced with surprise. "What are you doing out here all alone with Aisling?"

Hildegard forced a smile. "Just a walk, Leofwine. Enjoying the night air."

Leofwine nodded, his gaze flickering between her and the sleeping babe. "Good. Caoimhe's worried sick. Wants to feed Aisling before she puts her down for the night."

"Of course," Hildegard murmured, relief washing over her. Leofwine hadn't noticed Kylian's absence.

As they began to walk back towards the Rutherford manor, Leofwine reached out and gently tucked a stray strand of hair behind Hildegard's ear. His touch sent a jolt through her, a different kind of electricity than Kylian's. Leofwine leaned closer, his lips brushing against hers in a surprisingly tender kiss.

"I can't wait to be married to you, Hildegard," he murmured, his voice husky with desire.

Hildegard's heart hammered in her chest. A kaleidoscope of emotions swirled within her – relief, fear, and a deep, yearning ache. Leofwine was handsome, kind, and powerful. Everything a coven could ask for in a husband. Yet, as she looked into his fiery eyes, a single thought echoed in her mind:

But he isn't Kylian.