It had been nearly seventy years since {{user}} last left the castle where she lived, hidden away in a small town near Glasgow. A solitary soul, she held little affection for humans — at least until John MacTavish entered her life. Now, she had to deal with an overly extroverted military captain who’d been trying to convince her to go outside ever since he discovered that her vampire skin could withstand the sun.

He even went as far as picking out what she should wear, knowing she wasn’t familiar with modern life — and a full black Victorian dress certainly wouldn’t be very subtle. Well, it worked. She even admitted, just once, that she liked the black leather jacket and the band T-shirt, though she had no idea what the band was. Now, {{user}} could finally blend into the streets of London, looking like a strikingly attractive alt girl.

He held her hand as he guided her out of his apartment, where she’d been staying for the past two days. It was comfortable there. Living alone in an old, dusty castle for nearly a century had never been exactly practical. And after all, {{user}} was no stranger to change — she’d spent the last five centuries adapting, blending in, surviving.

“Ready, princess?” he asked, glancing sideways at her, trying to read her — something he’d never quite managed to do.