❧ house arrest ❧

≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫

Amalie and Damon stood at the entrance of the tomb, the chill seeping from the darkened space. She kept a safe distance, conscious that one wrong step could trap her inside with Stefan and Katherine—a fate she was keen to avoid. Stefan's silhouette loomed on the opposite side.

"You trapped her in the house?" Stefan's voice echoed slightly, an edge of disbelief and irritation in his tone. He shot Damon a look that was equal parts exasperation and concern.

Damon crossed his arms, feigning nonchalance as he leaned against the wall. "It's for the best. Trust me. Elena's on a martyr tear that rivals your greatest hits. You should be glad the witch and I are even getting along for once."

Amalie stood silently, watching Damon with narrowed eyes, her expression unreadable. She hadn't said a word to him since their fight the night before. His gaze flicked to her for an instant, his jaw tightening, but he quickly returned his attention to Stefan. He threw a bag over the tomb barrier.

"I brought you this," he said, his tone dripping with mock cheerfulness. "Care package: candles, lanterns, and...lunch." He held up a bottle of blood, the dark red liquid gleaming faintly in the light. Stefan's eyes flicked to the bottle, but his expression was wary as he looked from Damon to Amalie.

"If you give that to me, I'm just going to have to share it with her." Stefan nodded toward the shadows where Katherine stood, leaning against the wall with an amused giggle, her arms crossed as she observed the exchange.

Damon's expression soured at the mention of Katherine. "Yeah, no thanks," he muttered, holding the bottle a little tighter as if it might slip from his grasp.

Katherine stepped forward, her eyes glinting with mocking amusement. "You guys are surprisingly calm, considering Klaus will hunt you down and kill you if you mess with his little plan."

Damon didn't even flinch. "I've been dead before," he said, shrugging casually. "Got over it."

Amalie rolled her eyes, though her focus was on Stefan. His worry was obvious, the creases in his brow deep as he stood on the other side of the entrance, his gaze occasionally drifting to the distance, as if he could see Elena from within the tomb.

"Once we deal with the moonstone," Damon continued, "we'll figure out a way to get you out."

Stefan shook his head, stepping back into the shadows of the tomb. "Don't worry about me. Just make sure Elena's safe."

Amalie huffed, tossing her own bag through the entrance, the fabric sliding across the cold stone floor toward Stefan. "I brought you some books and stuff," she said, her tone casual but tinged with discomfort. "So you don't lose your mind in there."

Stefan's expression softened in surprise, genuine gratitude flickering in his eyes as he met her gaze. "Thank you, Amalie," he said, his tone sincere. The unexpected warmth in his voice caught her off guard, but she nodded, keeping her face neutral.

Damon watched the exchange with a faint chuckle before he turned to leave, but he glanced over his shoulder at Stefan, his tone laced with the usual sarcasm. "Don't go doing anything heroic. It's a bad look." He cast a knowing glance in Katherine's direction, the disdain clear.

Stefan shook his head as Damon strode away, leaving the tomb in silence. Stefan walked further into the tomb, vanishing into the shadows. Katherine watched him go, her expression unreadable. When her gaze shifted back to Amalie, a slow smile curled across her lips. "So," Katherine drew, her tone laced with amusement, "you're playing hero now? Didn't peg you for the type."

Amalie crossed her arms, careful to stay just outside the tomb entrance. She could sense Stefan still lingering in the shadows, listening. Good. "I'm not helping anyone," she replied coolly. "I'm looking out for myself. Only myself."

Katherine's brows lifted in mock surprise, her smirk widening. "Is that so? Funny, considering you're here, running errands for the Salvatores." She tilted her head, her tone dripping with curiosity. "So tell me—what's in it for you? What's your angle?"

Amalie's eyes flashed as she met Katherine's gaze, refusing to be intimidated. "You know better than anyone, Katherine. In this world, it's survival of the fittest. I'm just trying to stay alive, same as you."

Katherine's laughter was low, mocking, her voice smooth as silk. "Oh, darling, you've got a long way to go if you think you can outplay me. I've been doing this for centuries." She took a step closer, her gaze cold as she studied Amalie. "But you...you're different. You're not about to sacrifice yourself for anyone. You're more like me than you want to admit."

Amalie's jaw clenched, her voice tight with barely concealed disdain. "I'm nothing like you."

Katherine's smirk widened, her voice dropping to a soft, taunting whisper. "Aren't you?" She moved closer, her eyes flicking the necklace around Amalie's neck, the one Elijah had given her. "You're standing there, playing both sides, pretending to care, but deep down, you're just waiting for the right moment to save yourself. You're already being pulled into this game, and you're too smart not to know it."

Amalie's hand instinctively rose to the necklace, her fingers tightening around the cool gem. "What do you know about it?" Her voice was sharper than she intended, her fingers clenching around the pendant.

Katherine's smile turned sly, her gaze glinting with an unsettling amusement. "I know that you've caught the attention of the most dangerous vampires alive. And if you think Elijah is doing anything out of the goodness of his heart, you're more naïve than I thought."

Amalie's stomach twisted at Katherine's words, though she forced herself to keep her expression impassive. "Elijah doesn't trust Klaus any more than we do. I don't need you to tell me how dangerous this is."

Katherine's smile faded, replaced by a cold, knowing look. "Elijah isn't the one you should be worried about. Klaus is coming, and when he does, he'll tear through anyone in his way. Including you." Her voice softened, her words dripping with venomous sympathy. "That necklace doesn't make her special, Amalie. The sooner you realize that you don't' mean anything to them, the better off you'll be."

Amalie clenched her fist at her sides, fury simmering just beneath the surface. "Maybe. But I'm not letting you or anyone else decide what happens to me. I don't care what you or Klaus have planned—I'll make my own choices."

Katherine's smile returned, slow and dangerous. "Oh, I knew I liked you," she purred. "You've got fire. But let's get one thing straight, sweetheart. You can't win if you don't know the game ."

For a moment, Amalie didn't respond, her gaze locked with Katherine's An unspoken understanding passed between them, the weight of Katherine's words settling heavily. She was right about one thing—Amalie was caught in something far bigger than herself. But they already knew that.

"I guess we'll see," Amalie finally replied, her voice steady, her gaze unwavering. Without another glance, she turned and left the tomb without another glance at Katherine.

###

The Mystic Grill buzzed with its usual afternoon crowd—locals grabbing a late lunch, friends catching up over coffee, and a few tourists who'd wandered into the charming small-town spot. Amalie sat across from Jenna, who had been venting non-stop as she recounted her latest unwanted responsibility.

"So now I'm playing historical society hostess to some writer who's doing a book on small-town Virginia," Jenna sighed, stirring her drink absentmindedly as she rolled her eyes. "He wants to go through all these dusty archives that no one's touched in years."

Amalie chuckled, raising an eyebrow. "That sounds..."

"Lame, yeah," Jenna finished with a dry laugh. "But Carol Lockwood played the 'dead husband' card, said she was too busy to deal. And, of course, my sister kept most of the archives at her house, so now I'm stuck being this guy's tour guide to Mystic Falls' thrilling history."

Amalie laughed softly, shaking her head. "Lucky you. Carol's good at passing the buck when she needs to."

Jenna leaned back in her chair, sighing. "Tell me about it. And this guy? He's the type who's going to ask a million questions about every old building in town. I can already tell."

"Sounds like a nightmare," Amalie agreed with a grin, her tone light. "But maybe if you're lucky, he'll be cute."

Jenna let out a tired laugh, clearly unconvinced. "Fingers crossed. Anyway, what about you? What's on your agenda for the day?"

"I'm heading over to your place," Amalie replied, taking a sip of her drink. At Jenna's surprised look, she added, "Elena texted me earlier. Apparently, she's bored out of her mind and needs 'entertainment.'"

Jenna laughed, shaking her head as she gathered her things. "That sounds about right. Elena's like that—she can't sit still for more than five minutes without needing a project or someone to keep her company. Jeremy's there, though, so you three should have fun."

"Oh, we haven't seen Jeremy in a while," a soft, familiar voice chimed in. Amalie glanced to her right, where Ana had materialized in the empty chair beside her, a faint smile on her lips.

Suppressing a grin, Amalie turned her attention back to Jenna as she gathered her things. "Good luck with the writer guy," Amalie teased. "Try not to get buried alive in the archives."

Jenna huffed, slinging her bag over her shoulder. "If you don't hear from me, you'll know where to find my body—somewhere between the War of 1812 file and the old town maps."

Amalie chuckled. "I'll send a search party."

Jenna waved goodbye as she headed to the door. "Have fun with Elena and Jeremy. See you later!"

As Jenna disappeared through the exit, Amalie leaned in closer to Ana, her voice barely a whisper. "You know you miss Jeremy," she said, a teasing glint in her eyes. "Maybe you should finally confess your love if you ever get the chance."

Ana gave a huff, her voice filled with playful exasperation. "If he could actually see me, trust me, I would. I'm haunting the boy, not spying."

"Speaking of hauntings," Amalie began, a mischievous spark in her gaze, "where's Max been? He hasn't been lurking around for a while."

Ana rolled her eyes, shaking her head. "Who the hell knows? Ghost purgatory? Consistency's never been his thing. You know he likes to keep things mysterious."

Amalie laughed softly, leaning back in her chair. "Yeah, well, mysterious or not, he's a pain in the ass when he shows up. Last time, he wouldn't stop whispering some nonsense in the middle of the night. I barely got any sleep."

Ana grinned, leaning closer. "Oh, you'd miss him if he didn't show up at all. Admit it."

Amalie raised an eyebrow. "Would I, though?"

"Sure you would," Ana teased, her voice lilting. "He's not all bad. Better than the absolute demon that was Christopher, at least. Remember him ?"

"Don't speak his name," Amalie whispered, her tone dramatic. "He might appear."

Ana's laughter echoed gently in her ears, warm and familiar as they rose from the table together, heading for the door. They walked side by side into the cool afternoon air, Ana's form flickering in and out of view as they stepped into the lively street.

###

Amalie pushed open the door to the Gilbert house, stepping inside without knocking. The door was unlocked, as usual—an irrelevant point, given that Elena couldn't leave even if she tried. Bonnie's spell had made sure of that, trapping Elena within her own home, like a bird in a golden cage, all to prevent her from offering herself over to Klaus.

As Amalie ventured further into the living room, she found Elena slouched in an armchair, her arms crossed, her lips pressed in a fierce pout. Jeremy was sprawled on the couch beside her, the glow from his phone casting a faint blue light over his face. The scene looked almost normal, if it weren't for the heavy silence hanging between them.

"You know," Amalie said with a teasing chuckle, "you should really lock your door. What if someone dangerous just waltzed right in?" The irony in her voice was unmistakable.

Jeremy glanced up from his phone, giving her a quick smile. "Hey."

Elena's mood was noticeably sour. She met Amalie's gaze, her tone accusatory. "You were in on this, weren't you?" She motioned vaguely to the invisible barrier that held her captive. Her words hung heavy with frustration.

Amalie rolled her eyes as she flopped onto the couch next to Jeremy. "Nope. I'd never rob you of the freedom to throw your life away." Her tone was smooth, but her words held a bite. "But I do think it's a good idea. You're better off staying put. Safer this way."

Elena scowled, her defiance tempered by a flicker of doubt as she slumped back in her chair, unwilling to admit that Amalie might have a point. The silence thickened, the only sound the faint tapping of Jeremy's fingers against his phone.

Finally, Jeremy broke the quiet, his eyes flicking between Elena and Amalie as he cleared his throat. "So...are we going to talk about what happened?"

Amalie blinked, caught off guard by the sudden change in topic. "What?" She asked, though she had a sinking feeling she already knew what he was talking about.

Jeremy raised an eyebrow, sitting up as he set his phone aside. "At the masquerade. You went down out of nowhere," he said. "What happened?"

Amalie glanced away, but the memory of that night flared to life—the whispers, the splitting pain in her skull, the chaos swirling around her as she struggled to hold onto consciousness. It felt like ages ago, buried under the weight of everything that had happened since. But Jeremy wasn't letting her off that easily.

Amalie's gaze shifted to Elena, who was no longer sulking. Her eyes were now locked on Amalie, curiosity replacing the frustration from before. The change in her expression was subtle, but the intensity in her gaze was unmistakable. She wanted answers too.

"It's just something that happens every once in a while," Amalie said, keeping her tone casual, though the explanation felt hollow even as she spoke the words.

Jeremy frowned, not buying it. "That's not normal, Amalie. I was talking to you, and then you just—" He mimicked the way she'd crumpled to the ground, his brows drawing together in concern. "You freaked out. You were barely conscious."

Amalie shifted uncomfortably in her seat, her fingers curling into the fabric of the couch. She didn't want to talk about this—not with them, not with anyone. The curse that plagued her, the ghosts that haunted her—it was her burden to carry alone, not theirs.

Just then, Ana materialized beside her, her ghostly form as solid as ever, though her expression was gentle. "You should tell them," Ana urged, her voice soft but insistent. "Jeremy cares. He deserves to know."

Amalie threw Ana a sharp look, her gaze flickering with frustration. Jeremy and Elena, of course, saw none of this. To them, it would look like Amalie was staring off into space, but the tension in her expression was unmistakable.

"Amalie?" Elena's voice broke through, her tone almost pleading. "Jeremy's right. That wasn't just some random thing, and we need to know what's going on. If you're in danger, we—"

"I'm not in danger," Amalie snapped, her voice sharper than she'd intended. She quickly softened her tone, sighing as she avoided their eyes. "It's...just something I deal with. It's not a big deal ."

Jeremy didn't buy it. His eyes narrowed, his concern morphing into frustration. "Not a big deal?" He repeated, disbelief lacing his voice. "Amalie, you were on the ground, barely conscious. You expect us to believe that's something that just 'happens.'"

Amalie shifted uncomfortably, her fingers tracing patterns on the couch as she tried to maintain her composure. "It's not something you need to worry about, okay?" Her voice was tense, her words clipped. "It's my problem, not yours."

Jeremy's jaw tightened, his voice low but insistent. "Yeah, but we're your friends. It's our problem if something's happening to you."

She hesitated, her gaze flitting between Jeremy's earnest expression and Elena's concerned one. She wasn't used to this—letting people in, letting people care. Jeremy's quiet determination and Elena's constant need to protect those around her were stifling, and yet.. .she knew they wouldn't let this go.

"I appreciate it, I do," Amalie said finally, her voice quieter now. "But there are things you wouldn't understand. I'm dealing with it. That's all you need to know."

Elena leaned forward, her brows knitting together in frustration. "You're keeping something from us. You know we're not going to let this go, right? If you're in danger—"

"I told you, I'm not in danger!" Amalie snapped, her frustration finally breaking through. "You think I don't know what danger looks like? You think I don't know how to take care of myself? I 've been looking out for myself for 60 years now and that's not going to stop anytime soon."

Jeremy opened his mouth to say something, but Amalie cut him off with a glare. "I've been handling this for a long time. Whatever you saw at the masquerade, it was just a bad moment. That's it."

The silence that followed was thick and uncomfortable, Jeremy and Elena exchanging uncertain glances. Finally, Elena leaned back, exhaling heavily. "Fine. We won't push," she said, though the worry in her eyes hadn't faded.

Amalie gave a short nod, grateful that they were letting it drop, even if only for now. But she knew this wasn't the end of it. Jeremy and Elena wouldn't let her brush this off forever. They were too stubborn, too determined to help.

###

Amalie sat at the dining table with Jeremy, her eyes tracing over the intricate drawings he'd spread out between them. Each page was filled with detailed sketches of vampires, werewolves, and other creatures, exaggerated and brought to life with a touch of cartoonish menace.

"These are amazing," she murmured, her fingers brushing lightly over one of the drawings. This one was particularly vivid, a shadowed figure with fangs bared and claws extended, nearly leaping off the page.

Jeremy smiled, a faint flush of pride on his cheeks. "Thanks. I've been working on them for a while. They're just...you know, a side project."

Amalie smiled. She'd always admired people who could create something out of nothing. A blank sheet of paper turning into a masterpiece of art was, to her, nothing short of magical. "Well, they're brilliant. You're really talented, you know that?"

Jeremy's face brightened as he ducked his head, getting up to grab a snack from the kitchen. Amalie relaxed into the moment, appreciating the rare lightness—a break from the tension that hung around Mystic Falls most days. Elena was upstairs, likely sulking in her room.

But then Amalie's sensitive hearing picked up the sound of voices outside the front door. One was Jenna's, clear and familiar. The other, though, was deep and smooth—a voice she recognized immediately. Her heart gave an involuntary jump, and she struggled to ignore the sudden flood of unease.

Amalie did her best to focus back on the artwork as Jeremy went into the kitchen for a snack, but the voice from outside became clear and she froze.

"Amalie, what a pleasant surprise."

Her head snapped up, and her breath caught in her throat as