Ethan closed the bedroom door behind him, Alaric's gray suit still folded on the bed, and the silence of the hallway contrasted with the hustle and bustle he'd left in the main ballroom. Lizzie had told him to get ready and meet her at the ball, but the event wouldn't really start until around 5:30, with the introductions and the formal dance. He had time—time to breathe, to process everything, and most importantly, to not embarrass himself in front of Hope.
He tossed the napkin with Caroline's number on it onto the dresser, his thoughts racing between his father and what was to come. But right now, his focus was on Hope. Lizzie's words echoed in his head: If you don't step up, you'll lose her. He wasn't going to let that happen. Not after everything.
With a sigh, he picked up his suit and began to change, the elegant fabric a stark contrast to the worn jackets he usually wore. As he buttoned his shirt, he glanced at himself in the small bedroom mirror, adjusting his collar. "Okay, Ethan," he muttered to himself. "You can do it. It's just a dance. One step at a time."
He took a step back, remembering the moves Lizzie had taught him—or rather, forced him to do—minutes before. One foot forward, one to the side, spinning. Or was it the other way around? He tried, almost tripping over his own leg, and let out a low laugh, scratching the back of his neck. "If she saw me now, she'd make fun of me for the rest of my life."
Ethan spent the next few minutes testing his steps, the room becoming a makeshift stage. He counted softly—"one, two, three"—trying to keep up with the rhythm Lizzie had drilled into him. With each attempt, he became a little less clumsy, but still far from confident. The suit felt strange, like it belonged to someone else, but he knew it was for Hope. For her, it was worth the effort.
Every now and then, he stopped, glancing at his watch. 4:30. He still had an hour. The muffled noise from the ballroom below drifted up to him—voices, laughter, the sound of furniture being dragged around. The Miss Mystic Falls pageant was taking shape, with the students finishing up preparations for the pageant's parade and the opening dance. He took a deep breath, practicing one more step, determined not to falter.
Time passed quickly. At 5:20, Ethan took one last look in the mirror, awkwardly adjusting his tie. He wasn't perfect, but he was ready—or as close as he could get. With a nod to himself, he left the room, heading down the stairs toward the living room, his heart starting to race with each step.
Meanwhile, at the top of the grand staircase that led to the main ballroom, Hope stood, her dark blue Caroline Forbes gown hugging her body in a way that made her look almost ethereal. The event was about to begin, and she was to descend as one of the Miss Mystic Falls contestants, accompanied by her date—who, as far as she knew, was Landon. She held onto the railing, her eyes scanning the crowd below, searching for him among the students and guests who had gathered in the ballroom decorated with soft lights and flowers. "Where's Landon?" she muttered to herself, frowning as she looked back and forth.
Her heart suddenly raced, a strange feeling taking over her. She stiffened, her senses on alert, and slowly turned around. It wasn't Landon standing there. It was Ethan, climbing the last few steps, his gray suit highlighting his broad shoulders and his heterochromatic eyes shining in the light of the chandelier. For a moment, time stood still. Their thoughts were identical, a silent echo between them: She's the most beautiful girl in the world. He's the most beautiful man in the world. Their hearts beat in unison, fast, as if trying to reach each other before the words could even be said.
Ethan came to her side, hesitating for a second before extending his arm. Hope stared at him, eyes wide, still processing his presence there, so different from the Ethan she knew, but at the same time so him. He took a deep breath, his voice low but firm. "Hope, you are the most beautiful girl in the world. I've never seen anything like you in this world, and I probably never will."
Hope's face went completely red, heat rising to her cheeks as she struggled for words. She took his arm, her fingers trembling slightly, and finally managed to answer, her voice soft but thick with emotion. "And you... Ethan, you are the most beautiful man I've ever seen. Not just on the outside, but for everything you are. I... I didn't expect to see you here like this."
The two of them stared at each other for a long moment, the noise of the hall below—now filled with the soft sound of an orchestra beginning to play—fading away, as if the world were just them. Ethan smiled, a genuine smile Hope hadn't seen in weeks, and she smiled back, the blush still tinging her face.
From the ballroom, Alaric stepped onto the small stage set up for the event, microphone in hand, his voice echoing as the guests quieted. "Good evening, everyone. Welcome to the Salvatore School's Miss Mystic Falls Pageant. We will begin with the introduction of our contestants and their dates, followed by the opening dance. Please welcome the first contestant, Hope Mikaelson, accompanied by Ethan Nichols."
A murmur of surprise ran through the crowd—no one had expected Ethan there, much less as a match for Hope. Lizzie, standing near the base of the stairs, gave a satisfied smile, crossing her arms as she watched her plan unfold. Hope and Ethan walked down together, their steps in sync with the music that filled the hall, a classical waltz that echoed off the decorated walls. Her eyes met his as they descended, and for a moment, the anger and confusion of the past few weeks melted away, replaced by something warmer, more true.
On the dance floor, they positioned themselves among the other couples—some familiar faces like Josie and Penelope Park, who was also competing—and the dance began. Ethan held Hope's hand tightly, his other arm around her waist, trying to remember the steps he'd practiced. He stumbled once, but Hope guided him with a small smile, whispering, "Relax, you're doing great." He laughed softly, his nervousness fading as they twirled around the dance floor, their eyes locked on each other.
But then, out of the corner of her eye, Hope noticed a flurry of movement near the curtains. Josie and Lizzie were there, arguing in low voices, but loud enough to draw attention. Hope frowned, unable to hear what they were saying from so far away, but something about their posture—Josie pointing at her dress, Lizzie gesturing in frustration—made her uneasy. She squeezed Ethan's hand lightly. "Ethan, what's going on over there? I can see them fighting, but I can't hear them."
Ethan, with his heightened wolf senses, caught every word even though he was in the middle of dancing. He hesitated, keeping up with the rhythm of his steps, and began to narrate in a low voice to Hope. "Josie is mad. She saw you in her mother's dress and went to complain to Lizzie. She said she wanted to win too, that Miss Mystic Falls is important to her."
Hope bit her lip, her eyes still on the sisters as they spun around. "And what did Lizzie say?"
Ethan continued, his voice calm but heavy. "Lizzie said she was willing to help you today. That you needed it." Josie paused for a second, as if she understood. She said you'd been hurting a lot these past few days, and Lizzie agreed."
Hope was quiet, processing, but then Ethan hesitated, his eyes dropping for a moment. "There's more," she insisted, squeezing his hand. "What else did they say?"
He sighed reluctantly. "Josie asked how you would feel knowing that the dress was given to Caroline, their mother, by your father, Klaus. That it was a keepsake from him for both families."
Hope's thoughts stopped. Her eyes drifted as Ethan's words hit her like a wave. Klaus. Her father. The memories came rushing back—the happy times with him and Hayley, the laughter, the stories, and then his sacrifice for her, to protect her. Her eyes filled with tears, her chest tightening as the dancing continued around her. The dress she wore, given to Caroline by Klaus, carried a weight she hadn't realized until now.
Ethan noticed the tears streaming down her face and stopped dancing, gently pulling her close. He held her tenderly, his strong arms wrapping around her as she trembled, the memories swallowing her. "Hope, stop crying," he whispered, his voice cracking. "I can't stand to see you crying like this."
With a gentleness that belied his strength, he ran his hand over her eyes, wiping away her tears with passion and care. The gesture was so pure, so full of emotion, that the entire room stopped. The other couples on the dance floor, the guests, even the orchestra hesitated, all mesmerized as if watching a work of art unfold before them. Josie and Lizzie, still near the curtains, fell silent, their eyes fixed on the scene. Landon, in the corner, clenched his fists, but did not move.
A flash of light cut across the room, illuminating Hope and Ethan in the center of the dance floor. Alaric returned to the stage, his voice echoing with a mixture of surprise and pride. "Ladies and gentlemen, after the dancing and the introductions, we have our winner. This year's Miss Mystic Falls is... Hope Mikaelson."
Applause erupted around the room as a tiara was placed on Hope's head, but she barely noticed. Her eyes were on Ethan, who was still holding her hand, a soft smile on his face. She wiped away the rest of her tears, the trembling subsiding, and whispered to him, "Thank you." He just nodded, his gaze saying everything words didn't need to.
A few minutes later, as the crowd still cheered and the music began to play in a lighter tone, Hope felt the weight of the tiara and the day begin to dissipate. She looked around, the room still full of energy, but she needed a break. His gaze found Ethan, who had discreetly moved away from the center, now near one of the doors that led to the corridors. He seemed a little more relaxed, his suit still impeccable, but his eyes filled with something she couldn't name.
With a slight smile, she walked over to him, her footsteps soft against the polished floor. "Come with me," she said, taking his hand and gently pulling him along.
Ethan raised an eyebrow curiously, but followed her without question. "Where are we going?"
"To my room," she replied, her voice calm. "I'm tired of all the noise."
He gave her a half smile, letting her lead him through the school hallways to her room. When they reached it, Hope opened the door and walked in, leaving it ajar behind them. Ethan looked around, hands in his suit pockets, a little awkward. "So… why here?"
Hope shrugged, sitting on the edge of the bed and removing the tiara from her head, placing it beside her. "I wanted a quiet place. Today was... intense. You dancing with me, Lizzie helping me with everything, the victory. I just needed to breathe a little." She looked up at him, a playful glint in her eyes. "And you looked great down there, you know? Even when you were stumbling."
Ethan chuckled, scratching the back of his neck as he leaned against the dresser. "Thanks. I think I survived those steps Lizzie taught me. You looked amazing, Hope. The tiara suits you." Actually, anything suits you...
She smiled, a soft warmth rising to her face. "Thank you. I think we made a good team today."
"Yeah," he agreed, his tone light but sincere. "We always do."
Hope was silent for a moment, her eyes fixed on him, then she got up from the bed and took a step toward him. The three weeks they had spent apart hung heavy in the air between them, a silent longing that neither of them needed to say out loud. She stopped in front of him, her eyes meeting his, and before Ethan could speak, she brought her hands to his face, her fingers trembling slightly as they traced the line of his jaw. "I missed you so much," she whispered, her voice almost breaking.
Ethan took a deep breath, his eyes darkening with emotion as he held her hands to his face. "Me too, Hope. Every day felt like a piece of me stayed here with you." He pulled her closer, his arms wrapping around her waist, and then he kissed her—a slow, deep kiss, full of everything they'd been holding in for the past few weeks. It was like the world was making sense again, each touch rekindling what time had tried to erase. Her hands slid to his shoulders, gripping the fabric of his suit as she lost herself in him, the heat of his body against hers erasing the distance that had separated them.
When they finally pulled away, both of them panting, Ethan rested his forehead against hers, his eyes closed for a moment. "You're so beautiful I don't even know where to begin," he murmured, his voice husky with emotion. "It's like you're the air I didn't know I needed to breathe, like every inch of you was made to bring me home. I'll never get used to how alive you make me feel."
Hope laughed softly, the tears from before now replaced by a gleam of happiness in her eyes. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him into a tight hug. "You're such a romantic idiot, you know that? But I missed that too." She pulled away just enough to look at him, her thumbs stroking the back of his neck. "Don't disappear again, okay? I can't stand being without you around anymore."
Ethan smiled, a wide, genuine smile that lit up his face. "Never again. I promise." He leaned over and gave her a light kiss on the forehead, then another on the tip of her nose, making her giggle again. They stood there, holding each other, hands clasped together as they swayed gently, as if they were still dancing to a music only they could hear. The silence of the room enveloped them, the door ajar letting the distant sound of the party echo like a soft reminder of the world outside—a world that, for now, could wait.
But outside, all was not peaceful. While Hope and Ethan were lost in each other's warmth, Landon remained in the ballroom, his heart heavy after seeing Hope with Ethan on the dance floor. He had stepped away from the crowd, needing air, and walked out the back of the school, near the parking lot. The night air was chilly, and he kicked at a loose rock on the ground, his thoughts swirling with frustration and confusion.
He didn't hear the footsteps behind him until it was too late. A black van appeared out of nowhere, its tires screeching against the asphalt. Before he could react, three hooded figures quickly and silently stepped out of the vehicle. Landon tried to run, but one of them grabbed him by the arm, while another pressed a damp cloth to his face. The chemical smell made him struggle for a moment, but then his eyes rolled back and he collapsed, unconscious.
The Triad men—identifiable only by the discreet symbol on their jackets, a triangle with intertwined lines—threw him into the back of the van without a word. The driver accelerated, and the vehicle disappeared into the darkness of the road that led out of the school, leaving only the silence and the night as witnesses. Inside the room, Hope and Ethan remained oblivious, wrapped up in their own world—but danger, as always, was closer than they imagined.