Unmarked

The Vaelthorn library wasn’t just a room — it was an enormous vault of knowledge.

Miranda stood in the center of it, awash in the amber light of chandeliers. Floor-to-ceiling shelves lined the walls, each book bound in leather, stamped in gold, preserved by time. Some of them weren’t written in languages she recognized. Some glowed faintly with old Alpha magic. Andrea stood beside her, a hand resting lightly against the small of her back.

“Everything you see here,” Andy said softly, “is ours. Every ritual. Every law. Every word passed down from Alpha to Alpha.”

Miranda stepped forward, fingertips trailing the spines with reverence. “How far back does it go?”

Andy smiled faintly. “The first written record is twelve hundred years old. But the Vaelthorn name is older.”

She led her toward a carved desk near the back, where a single book lay open. Thick vellum pages, inked in deep crimson, sat like a wound in waiting. Andy tapped the title: The Omega’s Place.

“It’s not about submission,” she said before Miranda could ask. “It’s about sanctity. The Omegas in this house weren’t hidden or shamed. They were honored. The Alpha couldn’t take their title without an Omega beside them.”

Miranda’s breath caught.

Andy met her gaze. “This place doesn’t just tolerate you, Miranda. It needs you.”

She looked back to the book, her fingers ghosting over the edge of the page, reverent. “I didn’t know places like this existed.”

Andy’s voice was quiet, but resolute. “Most don’t.”

They stood in silence for a moment, the only sound the soft hum of magic and age around them. Then Miranda turned, her expression cautious. “You’ve built something here… but it feels older than you.”

“It is.” Andy took a slow breath, her hand still lingering near Miranda’s back, steadying them both. “The Vaelthorn bloodline is ancient. My grandmother used to say we carry more than power—we carry memory.”

Miranda’s brows drew together. “You said this is all passed from Alpha to Alpha. What happens if—”

“If there is no Omega?” Andy finished. “Then the legacy starts to unravel. Slowly, quietly. Magic begins to sleep. The house dims. Even the texts go quiet. Everything comes to a standstill, it waits.”

“For what?”

“For a worthy Omega to return,” Andy said, eyes never leaving Miranda’s. “For you.”

Miranda laughed, brittle and unsure. “You can’t be serious. I’m not some fairytale key to ancient power.”

“No,” Andy agreed softly. “You’re Miranda Priestly. You’ve built an empire with nothing but your mind and your will. But you didn’t do it alone, not really. You’ve been carrying this bond, this weight, since before we ever met.”

“I didn’t ask for it,” Miranda said, but her voice had lost its usual edge.

Andy nodded. “Neither did I. But here we are.”

For once, Miranda had no retort. Only silence. And the silence was louder than anything.

They stood like that for a while—two sides of a truth. Finally, Miranda broke it. “Why did you bring me here, Andrea?”

Miranda turned from her, steps echoing on the stone floor. “You think I’ve never been told I’m special before?”

“Not like this,” Andy said. “Not by someone who doesn’t need anything from you.” Miranda stilled. “Everyone wants something.”

Andy stepped closer. “Then let me be the first who doesn’t.”

Silence again. But this time, it was weighted with something deeper—acknowledgment, maybe. Miranda didn’t turn around, but her voice, when it came, was quieter.

“My family… they were Beta elite. Wealthy. Traditional. When I presented as Omega, my mother cried. My father didn't speak to me for three days. And when he did, it was only to tell me I had one job: marry well, be silent, and stay useful. Or find a way to not disgrace them further than I already did”

Andy’s breath hitched. Miranda had never spoken like this before—unguarded, raw.

“So I did, by running away,” Miranda continued. “I left everything. Took a different name. Rebuilt from the ground up. I learned how to walk like an Alpha. Speak like one. I took pills to smell like one. I became one, even if the world said I wasn’t allowed to be.”

She finally turned. Her eyes were glacial steel, but something behind them trembled. “And now you tell me I was always meant for more, even as an Omega? Because of some ancient text? Because your blood sings for mine?”

Andy took a deep breath. “No. I think you knew somewhere deep done. That’s why you’re here.”

Miranda’s mouth tightened. “Being with you—it means the end of everything I built.”

“No,” Andy said firmly. “It means beginning something better.”

Something flickered in Miranda’s expression—something close to pain. “I’m still afraid,” she whispered.

Andy nodded, stepping forward until they were just inches apart. “So am I.”

Miranda’s hand trembled as she reached for the desk to steady herself. Andy caught it. Held it.

“There’s more in this library,” Andy said quietly. “More than laws. More than history. There are answers here. And I want to find them—with you.” Miranda didn’t pull away.

Instead, she lowered her eyes to the text again. Her voice, when she spoke, was almost inaudible. “What if we can’t fix it? What if me being an Omega destroys everything the world knows today?”

Andy leaned down, forehead brushing hers. “Then we rebuild. Together.”

“Come with me,” Andy said after a moment. She led Miranda down one of the aisles, past a row of tomes bound in obsidian-black leather, until they came to a smaller door. Andy pulled a key from a chain around her neck and unlocked it.

Inside was a smaller study, lit by soft lamplight and a fireplace already flickering low. There was a single chair, worn but regal, and a desk with another book waiting.

Miranda stepped in first, glancing back at Andy. “What is this room?”

Andy hesitated before stepping inside and closing the door behind them. “This is where the Alpha and their chosen Omega sign the blood covenant.”

Miranda froze.

“It doesn’t bind you,” Andy said quickly. “Not unless you want it too. But… if you want to know more about us—about what we are—this is where it starts.”

Miranda stared at the book, then back at Andy. Her pulse was loud in her ears. Everything inside her screamed that this was too much, too fast.

But her hand still moved. She reached for the chair, and slowly, she sat. Andy took the other seat, not across from her, but beside her. Miranda looked down at the book. It wasn’t magic. Not yet. It was blank.

“Why is it empty?”

“Because it hasn’t been written yet,” Andy said. “This book is for us.”

**-

The room was quiet, save for the crackle of the fire and the gentle rustling as Miranda turned the first blank page of the book.

“It’s strange,” she murmured, her fingers brushing the parchment. “I’ve spent my life filling pages. Magazines, contracts, editorials. Everything always had structure. Purpose.” She looked up. “But this… this is waiting for us.”

Andy watched her carefully. “Not just us. Every Alpha and Omega that came before. And those that come after.”

Miranda’s lips twitched faintly. “That assumes there will be an ‘after.’”

“There always is,” Andy said.

They sat in silence for a few moments, the kind that was neither heavy nor uncomfortable. Miranda leaned back slightly, crossing one leg over the other.

“So,” she said, her voice light but wary. “Tell me more about these rituals. You brought me into your family’s legacy. What else have I gotten myself into?”

Andy smiled slowly, almost mischievously. “You mean aside from the blood-bound libraries and Alpha-Omega magic no one talks about anymore?”

Miranda gave her a dry look. “Yes, aside from that.”

“Well,” Andy said, tapping her finger lightly on the book, “there’s the Rite of Harmony. It’s usually done after the bond is formed—officially. A kind of… magical alignment ceremony. Not legal. Not religious. Just soul-deep. It seals the Alpha and Omega’s energy together permanently.”

Miranda arched a brow. “That sounds mildly terrifying.”

“It’s beautiful, actually,” Andy said, her voice softer now. “It happens under moonlight, surrounded by stone markers carved with ancestral sigils. The Omega offers their voice. The Alpha offers blood. And the land listens.”

Miranda blinked. “The land listens?”

Andy nodded. “Vaelthorn soil was blessed by old magic. The rite awakens it. It records your bond in the earth itself. The idea is… even if the world forgets you, the land won’t.”

Miranda rubbed her thumb over the edge of the page, thoughtful. “What else?”

“There’s the Marking of Names,” Andy continued. “We inscribe each other’s names in the Vault. It’s an old room deep under the manor. You carve it in stone. Not with a tool—with power. It’s a way of saying: ‘we existed, and we chose each other.”

Miranda swallowed. “Sounds like… a legacy.” Andy nodded. “Exactly.”

Miranda was quiet for a long time. Then she glanced at Andy from the corner of her eye. “Do you believe in all of this?”

Andy leaned back in her chair, thoughtful. “I didn’t. Not really. Not until you.” That drew Miranda’s attention fully. “Why me?”

Andy met her gaze steadily. “Because no one else ever made the bond wake up.”

Miranda looked away again, jaw tight, but she didn’t argue. “And what happens if the Omega refuses all of it? The rites, the markings, the legacy?”

Andy’s voice didn’t waver. “Then our magic sleeps forever. The house dims. The land forgets. And the Alpha…” She exhaled slowly. “The Alpha carries the weight of a future that never happened.”

Miranda flinched like something had struck her chest.

Andy was quiet for a moment, then spoke again. “There are three more rites we haven’t talked about yet. They’re the final steps, if the bond is to be… legitimized.”

Miranda’s shoulders tensed. “You mean legally recognized?”

Andy shook her head. “No. I mean soul-recognized. By the bloodline. By the house. By the magic of this place.”

Miranda tilted her head slightly. “Of course. Why wouldn’t love require bureaucracy and ancestral judgment?”

Andy chuckled, but there was something solemn behind her smile. “It’s not about love. It’s about power. You don’t have to be in love to be bonded. But if you’re going to stand beside the Vaelthorn Alpha, the house must recognize you. And for that to happen…” She trailed off for a moment before continuing.

“You must complete the Scenting, the Oath, and the Presentation.” Miranda blinked. “Sounds like a twisted wedding.”

“In some ways, it is,” Andy said softly.

Miranda exhaled and leaned back. “Alright then. One at a time.”

Andy shifted toward her slightly, her voice low and reverent. “The Scenting is the most personal of the three. It’s done in private, between Alpha and Omega. It’s not physical—not necessarily. But it’s primal. You exchange essence. The Alpha marks the Omega with their scent fully—not just the bite, but through energy, through intention. And the Omega… accepts it. Fully. Without barriers, without resistance.”

Miranda looked away; jaw clenched. “Next.”

Andy nodded, her voice softening further. “Then comes the Oath-Giving. It’s done here, in the study. In front of this book. The Omega speaks her truth—what she brings, what she promises to protect, to nurture, to stand beside. And the Alpha gives hers—what she will defend, provide, and uphold. They’re bound not by law, but by their words. Magic seals the oaths into the book.”

Miranda glanced down at the untouched pages. “This one?”

Andy nodded. “When the oaths are true, ink will appear.”

A flicker of awe crossed Miranda’s face, quickly hidden. “And the last?”

Andy’s expression turned solemn. “The Presentation.”

Miranda raised a brow. “Sounds ominous.”

Andy leaned forward, resting her forearms on her knees. “The elders of the Vaelthorn family—my bloodline—gather in the Moon Hall. I will bring you forward, and I will speak your name. I present you as my chosen Omega. My mate. And they… decide.”

Miranda’s gaze sharpened. “Decide what?”

“Whether the bond is recognized by the line,” Andy said quietly. “If you’re accepted, the house unlocks for you fully. Magic flows through you like it does through me. You become part of it.”

“And if they reject me?”

Andy hesitated. “Then the bond remains only yours and mine. The house will not protect you. You won’t be able to live here. The bloodline will not support the legacy we try to build. It doesn’t end the bond—but it… isolates it.”

Miranda was silent. For a long moment, she didn’t breathe. Then, finally, she looked at Andy. “So what you’re saying is, I have to stand in front of your ancestors and… be judged.”

“Yes.”

Miranda scoffed, looking away. “Well. That sounds perfectly medieval.”

“It is,” Andy admitted. “But they’ve upheld the balance between Alphas and Omegas for centuries. My grandmother says we’re not just family—we’re a gate. If they let you in… they give you the keys to a power that could reshape the world.”

Miranda was quiet, her voice low and almost bitter. “You really think they’ll accept me? A once-hidden Omega who ruled her world by pretending to be something she wasn’t?”

Andy reached out, taking Miranda’s hand again, this time with more strength. “I think they’ll see the same thing I see. A woman who built an empire without asking permission. Who stood alone for decades and never faltered. Who chose not to be claimed until the right Alpha came along.”

Miranda turned to her then, and for once, her expression was bare—no mask, no armor. Just raw, hesitant fear.

“I don’t know if I can be what this place needs,” she said quietly. “What you need, What if I’m not enough?”

Andy reached across the book and, gently, took her hand. “You already are.” The book between them shimmered, just for a second. A faint, silver glow traced the edge of the page.

Miranda’s eyes widened. “Did you see that?” Andy smiled, just a little. “It knows we’re here.”

**-

They spend the rest of the day talking and walking around the estate’s gardens. Later that night, Andy led her through a side door into a lower chamber beneath the manor. Warm stone walls wrapped around the space like a cocoon. The scent of crushed herbs, aged wood, and clean linen filled the room. Miranda paused just inside. A nesting chamber.

Everything in her went still.

Soft silks, thick blankets, rich textures in Vaelthorn red and silver lined a sunken bed in the center of the space. It wasn’t just beautiful — it was designed for people like her. For her comfort, her instincts.

“You made this,” Miranda said softly.

Andy shook her head. “No, not in the true sense of the word. But I scented every inch myself.”

Miranda swallowed, her heart pounding. “But I haven’t—”

“You haven’t accepted that part of the bond formally. I know.” Andy took a slow step forward. “This isn’t about sex. Or dominance. This is about anchoring you. In us. In this house.”

She reached down and picked up a small bundle of fabric — a soft shift, delicate and sleeveless, embroidered at the hem with a crest. The night gown type of dress is beautiful.

“For the scenting ritual,” she said. “If you want to go through with everything.” Miranda stared at it for a long moment. And then, silently, she took it.

**-

Miranda stood at the center of the nesting chamber, clad in the beautiful dress Andy gave her barefoot on cool stone.

Andy circled her slowly, fingers dipped in fragrant oil drawn from Vaelthorn gardens — a blend of musk, pine, and freesia. Each place she touched Miranda’s skin, she left a mark of belonging: behind her ears, the hollow of her throat, the inside of her wrists. Every touch was reverent.

“My scent will anchor you here,” Andy murmured. “No matter how far you run, this place will call you home.” Miranda’s eyes fluttered closed.

When Andy finished, she pulled a silver pendant from a velvet box, unmistakably symbolic. The Vaelthorn crest etched in obsidian, suspended on a chain fine as spider silk. Andy fastened it around her neck.

Next came the oath-giving ceremony, Miranda stood in a long silver cloak at the edge of the ancestral hearth, surrounded by the portraits of every Vaelthorn Alpha before Andy.

Andy stood opposite her, dressed in traditional black — bare forearms marked with red ink, lines that pulsed faintly with ancestral blessing.

“In fire, I was born,” Andy said, voice ringing across the stone.

“In thorn, I was tested.”

“In bond, I rise.”

Miranda’s breath hitched as Andy reached out and took her hand and joined them together above the book.

“I Andrea Vaelthorn,” she said clearly, her voice ringing through the quiet room. “Alpha of this house. Guardian of its legacy. I offer strength not to bind, but to lift. I offer protection, not to cage, but to shield. I vow to stand beside you, Miranda Priestly, not above you. To honor the truth of who you are — even when it scares you. Even when it scares me.”

A flicker of silver ink traced itself onto the vellum, curling like smoke across the page. The book had begun to write.

Miranda swallowed hard, and Andy felt the slight squeeze of her fingers before Miranda stepped forward. She didn’t need a cue.

“I accept your vow,” she whispered. “And I offer my own.” Her voice was softer, but there was no mistaking the steel behind it.

“I Miranda Priestly,” she said. “Omega by designation, but not by weakness. I have shaped worlds with my voice  and held empires together with silence. I vow to offer my mind, my will, and my truth to you, Andrea. Not in submission, but in partnership. I will walk beside you — not behind — and where you falter, I will not.”

The silver ink flared across the page, spilling lines across the parchment in elegant strokes, etching both their names into the book.

Miranda stared down at it, breath catching. “It’s writing...”

Andy exhaled, her shoulders relaxing just slightly. “Because it knows we meant it.” The flames of the hearth flared — the bond sealed.

**-

After both ceremonies the two women took some time to themselves. Enjoying the peace and quite for once before the final steps would be made. Andy told the servants to send out invitations and prepare for the Presentation ceremony. Even though they both would have liked to take their time with all the rituals and ceremonies, the looming doom of the Bureau pushed them to finalize Miranda’s entrance into the family officially as soon as possible.

The dressing chamber deep within the manor was quiet, lit only by moonlight streaming through a high arched window and the warm flicker of a dozen floating lanterns. The air was heavy with the scent of white hyacinth, bergamot, and something older—rich earth, old parchment, magic waiting to be stirred.

Miranda stood in the center of the room, still wrapped in a silken robe, watching silently as Andy moved around her with the quiet focus of someone performing something sacred.

Andy didn’t speak at first. She simply reached into the low drawer of the carved stone altar and pulled out a jar of pigment—midnight blue, nearly black, mixed with crushed lapis and moon-oil.

“These are called vaelen sigils,” she said finally, voice low, intimate. “Each symbol is a promise, an offering to the ancestors. They’re not for beauty. They’re for recognition. For protection.”

Miranda lifted her chin slightly, though her pulse quickened. “And you’re sure this is necessary?”

Andy met her gaze. “They will see you through the marks.”

Miranda didn’t flinch when Andy stepped forward and gently slipped the robe from her shoulders, bearing her skin to the cold air. She simply stood there, fully naked and proud.

Andy dipped her fingers into the pigment and began at Miranda’s collarbone. Her touch was slow, and reverent. She painted the first rune just below the hollow of Miranda’s throat—an unbroken circle crossed by three points.

“Legacy,” Andy whispered. “The right to stand.”

Then, her fingers moved lower, sweeping across Miranda’s ribs with firm, fluid strokes.

“Endurance,” she said, tracing a jagged spiral that curled in on itself. “For what you’ve survived.”

Miranda swallowed, her breath hitching slightly. She stood perfectly still, as if the movement might undo Andreas’ hard work.

Andy continued the work in silence—painting down the line of Miranda’s spine, delicate curves and sharp glyphs that shimmered faintly when the light touched them exactly right.

Then came the final mark—drawn on the left shoulder, just above Miranda’s heart. Andy took a breath before she pressed her fingers there, pigment bleeding into the skin.

“Belonging,” she murmured. “Not to me. Not to the house. But to yourself.”

Miranda’s lips parted, but no sound came. Her hands had curled into fists at her sides, not in resistance—but in restraint. The weight of it all—what she had been, what she was becoming—settled over her like a second skin. Andy stepped back, admiring her work.

The symbols looked as though they had been carved in starlight—ancient, sharp, and utterly alive against the smooth porcelain of Miranda’s skin. There was no armor, no power suit, no sharp heel or biting retort to hide behind. And yet she had never looked stronger.

Andy moved to the side, where a crown of flowers waited—white thistle, forget-me-not, and midnight blue hellebore woven with strands of silver thread.

She placed it gently on Miranda’s head, letting her fingers linger for just a moment. Then she walked over to a white dress. It was low cut in the back and had a split on the right side. She helps Miranda into it and twirls her around.

“You are ready.”

Miranda turned toward her “I should be terrified.”

Andy smiled softly. “You are. But you’re walking into that hall anyway.” Miranda held her gaze for a moment, then gave a slow, imperceptible nod.

“Then let’s begin.”

**-

The Moon Hall was unlike any place Miranda had ever stepped into—vast, circular, carved entirely from dark stone veined with shimmering silver ore. At its center, a ring of runes pulsed faintly with old magic, forming a sigil older than any written language Miranda had seen. Above them, the ceiling opened to the sky, revealing the full moon glowing white and watchful overhead.

The scent of moss, smoke, and something older—something magical—clung to the air.

Miranda stood just outside the circle, wrapped in the white gown Andrea had chosen for her. She wore no jewelry. No heels. No mask. Just her, bare and burning beneath centuries of scrutiny.

Andy stood beside her, cloaked in black with the Vaelthorn crest etched in silver across her shoulders. She held herself with the full weight of her bloodline, posture regal, voice steady as she stepped forward.

“I am Andrea Vaelthorn,” she said, her voice echoing through the stone chamber. “Alpha of this House. I come to present my chosen Omega—Miranda Priestly.”

From the shadows around the ring, they emerged. Seven elders.

Each one cloaked in variations of silver, ivory, and slate. Age did not define them—some looked no older than Andy, others wore time like a second skin—but all of them radiated a quiet, feral power. Their eyes glowed faintly under the moonlight; ancient instincts sharpened by judgment.

The eldest among them, a woman with braided white hair and eyes like frozen glass, stepped forward. “You bring her before the circle knowing the risks?”

“I do.”

“She is marked?”

Andy nodded. “By bond and by oath.”

The elder’s gaze shifted to Miranda, and the temperature in the room seemed to drop.

“Miranda Priestly,” the woman said, her tone like carved marble. “You stand before the Vaelthorn line not as a stranger—but not yet as kin. We have read your oaths. We have seen the ink. But legacy is more than words.”

Miranda swallowed, spine straight. “I understand.”

“You have hidden what you are,” another elder spoke, a man with storm-gray eyes. “You defied the laws and traditions our kind have followed for centuries.”

“I survived them,” Miranda said coldly. “The world outside these walls is not the same as within them” Murmurs rippled through the circle. Andy tensed beside her, but she didn’t interfere.

“You have ruled as Alpha,” said another. “Do you think you can now stand as Omega, beside one of us?”

“I do not stand as Omega,” Miranda replied. “I am Omega. I may not have seen that before.”” Miranda looked back at Andy “But I do so now, more clearly than ever.”

She let a silence fall “But I refuse to define my strength by how low I bow. If this house cannot accept that—I do not want its blessing.” The words hung in the air like venom.

For a long moment, no one moved. Then, the elder woman who had spoken first stepped inside the rune circle. “Approach the center.”

Andy touched Miranda’s hand gently before stepping forward. Miranda followed, and together, they entered the ring of light and magic.

As soon as Miranda crossed the boundary, the symbols flared, pulsing once—then again.

The elder’s eyes narrowed. “She is bound.”

“I told you that” Andy said softly.

“But she is also unsettled still” the woman murmured.

“I never promised to be easy,” Miranda said.

The elder looked at her long and hard, then extended a single palm, hovering it inches above Miranda’s chest. Miranda stiffened but did not move.

A current of silver shimmered between them—And then—The air shifted. The runes flared brighter, light spreading beneath Miranda’s feet in a ring of white flame that burned cold and clean. Her cloak rippled as if caught in the wind, though the air was still. The magic had recognized her.

Andy let out a slow breath, her hand tightening at her side. The elders exchanged looks. Then the eldest nodded once. “It is done.” Silence.

And then a single bell chimed—soft, and resonant. Acceptance. Miranda let out a breath she had not realized she was holding.

“You are recognized,” the elder said. “By name. By oath. By bond. You walk with this house now, Miranda Priestly. And it will walk with you.”

Andy turned toward her, awe flickering in her eyes—but more than that, pride.

“You did it,” she whispered. Miranda’s voice was incredibly quiet. “We did.”

Above them, the moon glowed brighter—silver light pouring through the open ceiling like a blessing. For the first time, Miranda felt it settle into her bones: belonging.