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On October 1st 1989, something wonderful and rather marvellous occurred. It was documented that forty-three women from all around the world suddenly went into labour and gave birth to children despite never showing any prior sign of pregnancy whatsoever. Those around them watched in horror as the seemingly non-pregnant girls, all of them being the tender age of eighteen, screamed in agony as their bellies grew to that of a full term bump.

Sir Reginald Hargreeves had listened animatedly at the news reports filtering from the old and rusty radio that lost frequency more than he would like as they reported on the utter unbelievable yet true story. He quickly arranged for his travels to each and every city, country and town to find those children born suddenly. With the sheer shock of their births still resonating with their families, he was able to get eight of the children before they were registered to those families. With a lump sum of money that would help them with whatever financial struggle they faced in their hands, Sir Reginald Hargreeves had what he needed. The next day, they became the Hargreeves Eight.

He knew there were more of them out there, but whilst some disputed that there was only forty-three, Reginald had an inkling—well, more of a fascination—that there had to be more children born on that day. That there was more of them out there. Special children born with powers who would truly change history.And maybe he was right, but there was no way of truly knowing unless he hunted them down himself.

Instead, he chose to focus on the ones he had. And even then, it wasn't exactly the attention they deserved or were worthy of. The warmth of a parent was nowhere to be found within the Hargreeves Manor, but rather he offered them praise for the tasks he gave them that they excelled in but silent treatment for those they struggled with or failed.

He had their future planned out for them all. Every single one of them was—and would be—the hero in their story. They had proved to him that their skills were improving with every major crime they were thrust into to gain control and in turn gain public affection. The cheers from the crowds were often deafening, and Reginald chased those cheers for as long as he could. Even after they long became silent.

But whilst Reginald liked control, he couldn't plan for one thing happening which would change the course of life for two siblings.

The siblings were all different, in every sense. The only thing to truly connect them was him and the individual powers they had. A connection that gave them comfort knowing they weren't alone in the world with such a huge weight on their shoulders. It was always embedded into them that they were special and unlike other children their age.

It all happened that fateful day. With their father out of the house all day on business, the children were allowed freedom that they sought on a daily basis. The distinctive combination of high-pitched laughter, thunderous footsteps down every corridor and room and screaming from being caught during their annual and sporadic games of hide and seek had caused Maeve Hargreeves to find the quietest of corners within the manor. In her thirteen years of being alive, she had found the world to be a much louder place for such a quiet soul like her own.

After a day of school learning as well as training overseen by Pogo and Grace, she found comfort from her hiding spot where she was sure none of her siblings would be able to find her. With her favourite book in hand, she closed the door to her fathers office—a place strictly out of bounds whether he was at home or away on business—and found the corner between the desk and floor to ceiling cabinets stretched around the room on every wall. She didn't care much for games, much rather preferring to depart from herself for a while as the world within the book was awaiting her return with characters who she felt were more like family than her own.

The book in her hands was well-thumbed, with her having lost herself in it countless times before. Maeve could never tire herself from knowing the story by heart. In fact, the world created by the author offered her the strength to silence the chaos that ensued in her mind, allowing her to feel normal or as close to that as she could for the first time in her life. For Maeve Hargreeves, life wasn't normal in any sense. It was normal for them by now, but as their father would always remind them: they were special, and so due to this, they endured exhausting hours of training to harness their skills. They would never know what it felt like to be normal thirteen-year-olds, and she didn't know about the others but she yearned for a life where she was free. Though she loved her family more than words, there was that unresolved anguish deep in her heart that made her yearn for normal parents, a normal upbringing, and a normal existence.

Each of the siblings had a specific power that made them unique. She had a power most would never know about, and it was one that struggled to understand herself most of the time. Maeve wasn't alone with those thoughts however, even if she felt that way.

"What are you doing in here?"

Maeve's attention snapped back to reality, her hands clasping the book shut and her widened gaze focusing on the doorway. Diego stood there with a furrowed brow, the familiar expression of distrust and accusation etching across his face. Even though he never said much, his expressions spoke a thousand words. She fought the urge to roll her eyes. "What are you doing in here?"

"Looking for Klaus," he said nonchalantly. "You haven't seen him, have you?"

"No," she said, returning her attention to her book.

Diego traipsed carefully into the room which caused Maeve's attention to waver once more from her book and onto him. She closed her book to watch as she searched the cupboards that were big enough for Klaus to hide inside.

"You know you won't find him in there, right?" Maeve raised her eyebrow as he pulled open a small drawer than held many of their fathers trinkets. "He confiscated your knives again, didn't he?"

When he failed to meet her eye, she understood. Maeve had noticed that he would reach for his weapons that weren't on his person during breakfast and lunch, a subconscious habit that brought him comfort. He had been quiet during school and their training session, and now she knew why. He was always usually so full on; if he wasn't throwing knives in every direction then he was wrestling with Luther in almost every room (with some being ambushes that caused the blonde tall boy to stumble to the floor), or he was carving his name in every piece of wooden furniture their father owned to piss off their father. Simply watching him exist was exhausting enough for Maeve as he raced or bounced from room to room, burning off the excess energy that was so obviously still clinging on defiantly for dear life.

"Can you do your mind trick and find them?" Diego asked, turning around and furrowing his brow when he realised he had her attention on him. He rubbed the back of his neck anxiously.

"No," she said simply.

"Is that all you can say?" Diego huffed.

"All I'm saying is that maybe it's a good thing he took them away from you. The amount of times I've had to cover the marks in the walls with some lame drawing this week is just… annoying."

"Brat," Diego sneered. "Maybe Father should confiscate that stupid book of yours that you've always got your annoying nose in. Then maybe you can pull your weight during training and not fall on your ass all the time and cry."

Maeve felt hot tears burn her eyes. She tried with all her might to make the tears go away but she knew Diego was sticking around for a while as he continued his search for his knives and his brother. She hated showing weakness in front of Diego, and knowing that the tears were threatening to fall, she tried to compose herself by opening her book again with shaky hands. The words were blurred with the heavy tears and once she was sure Diego had turned away from her, she quickly wiped them away with her sleeve.

"They're behind the photo of Father," she whispered, her voice low. Diego turned to her then reached for the photo of their father in his younger years graduating from college.

I should say thank you, she heard in the air. Diego's voice would never mutter those words in her direction, but she would take the ones she heard in his head. I was mean to her.

Maeve tried to busy herself and pretend to read even though she was reading the same sentence repeatedly, but Diego would never know that. His presence around her always made her uncomfortable; they had never gotten along, even when they were toddlers. He would always pull her hair, push her to the ground and take her toys away. They were polar opposites in every way and neither of them, beneath it all, cared about the other. He was close to Klaus more out of the other siblings and she always enjoyed Vanya's company with both sisters often chatting until the early hours of the morning. Well, most of that was true but she did care about him even when he always made her aware of his distaste towards her whenever she was around. His voice would always fill her mind with goody two shoes or miss know-it-all and most often than not, brat. But she cared more about how he made her feel with his unspoken words and how inadequate she felt around him, as if her mere presence in his life meant extraordinarily little to him.

"Ooh," Diego murmured after a moment, and Maeve looked over at him. He was reaching for something.

Maeve was an inquisitive soul and found herself watching him with such curiosity that she hadn't noticed that she had closed her book and placed it on the floor beside her. "What is it?" she asked him.

"I don't know but we could probably find all of his secrets within this room," Diego replied and he pulled the box towards him.

"Maybe you shouldn't be doing that," Maeve said, concerned. "He doesn't like things out of place."

Diego shrugged and blew the dust off the top of the box. "As long as you don't tell him, we're good."

"He's going to lose his temper!" Maeve exclaimed worried. "He could be back any minute."

Diego sneered at her. "Then I'll say it was your idea. How you snoop around in here after every training session," he fired back, narrowing his intense stare at her.

Maeve felt her cheeks redden and anxiety claw at her throat. "You wouldn't," she choked out.

"Try me," Diego smirked before moving his gaze back to the wooden box. He lifted the lid, but quickly snapped his attention to the door for a split second to ensure his father hadn't miraculously appeared at the doorway. Oi, brat. You pay attention in Latin class, don't you?"

Maeve nodded, ignoring his nickname for her. She stood to her full height and closed the gap between them. She approached slowly, her gaze falling on the detail and writing inscribed inside the lid.

Tenetur in Sempiternum.

"What does that mean?"

Maeve shrugged. "Forever bound."

Diego's shoulders sagged deflated as he noticed the contents of the box. Maeve peered inside and saw two gold rings intertwined shining underneath the light above them. They were simple, delicate bands. She could tell that Diego was expecting something more extravagant to capture his attention. Diego went to touch them but hesitated.

A low humming sound caught her attention, the same type of buzz a fly makes that you hear in the distance, never quite knowing where it is.

"I think you should put it back, Diego," Maeve whispered.

"They're just stupid rings," Diego retorted. "There's nothing special about them."

The humming grew louder, like a buzz of electricity bouncing off any surface it could. Diego placed his finger on one of the rings.

The mere sentiment was enough to separate the two conjoined rings, and catapulted both children across the rooms in opposite directions. Maeve crashed into the bookcase behind her and Diego was hurled over the mahogany sideboard in front of the large window that overlooked the courtyard. Maeve grunted as she scrambled to her knees, her hand resting on the back of her head. Diego swore and hissed in a breath as he rubbed his elbow.

"W-what was that?" Maeve asked, staring wide-eyed at Diego who was staring back at her with an equally as confusing expression on his face. His thoughts were blurred for her, like a distant shout in the middle of bustling traffic. His voice was edging further away from her until just… silence. No buzzing, no humming and certainly no name calling coming from Diego could be heard.

Diego shook his head. "I don't know.

He looked down at the box lying open in the middle of the room. He glanced down at his hands then over at Maeve's. Maeve followed his movement, a lump forming in her throat.

The two golden rings that had been interlocked and that had once been locked away in the box for a century were now on the fourth finger of both siblings.

"I didn't touch them… why is it on my finger?" Maeve panicked, trying desperately to remove it from her hand. The ring however didn't seem to budge.

From the dumbfounded look on Diego's face, it was obvious that he had no idea as to how the rings got on either of their fingers.

"This is why I don't snoop in places I'm not allowed to," Maeve whispered, angry tears forming in her eyes. Frustration and anger coursed through her veins which was very unlike her nature, it was a strange feeling to experience and she looked over at Diego who was abnormally calm and reserved, and mostly quiet.

Diego met her gaze from across the room. There was a mutual understanding that passed through the two siblings in that moment. "Tenetur in Sempiternum," he whispered to her.

What the Hargreeves siblings didn't know was that the two rings that had once interlocked for a reason were now bound to them. The century old connection between the two gold bands had been made to prevent any wrong doing within the manor, to protect those within it from a much darker force that threatened to break apart the foundations of family and of love. The two members of the family—Diego and Maeve—were polar opposites had found a bond that could never be broken, whether they liked it or not.