Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“I love you, Hope. Forever.” At Landon’s whispered words, Hope’s heart shattered into a million pieces. They had fought for what seemed like an eternity to avoid this fate, and yet here she was, about to shove a sword made of blood through his stomach. 

The man who had helped her open up, her first real boyfriend. Landon was the one she had lovingly given her virginity to, the only one she had ever trusted to risk such a thing, to be so vulnerable with. And even though they had never gotten back to that place after her first trip into Malivore—his love for Josie now too strong—she still…

He was still her best friend, her utterly epic first love. Tears dripped down Hope’s face as she leaned in to press a gentle, sorrowful kiss to his cheek. Her hand flexed around the jagged handle of the sword, and Landon’s breath hitched. “I wish it didn’t have to be like this.”

“I know, Hope. I’m sorry to ask this, but can you tell her…?” Tears streamed down Hope’s face, but she still forced a watery smile.

“Of course. You know I will.” Because that was who Hope was. She’d look Josie in the face and tell her that Landon had loved her with all his heart in the end. Hope’s hand moved forward. Time froze as the very tip of the sword pierced through his shirt, about to break skin. She couldn’t pierce his skin; she couldn’t move. She tried to flex her arm forward, but the muscles didn’t respond. Hope’s eyes widened in shock, which only grew when she realized he wasn’t breathing and all sound had faded away.

She looked around to try to understand what had happened, even though Hope instinctively knew her sight would reveal nothing her other senses hadn’t already told her. Time had frozen, yet she remained conscious. 

Beams of light from the setting sun did not move; it was an impossibility. Hope knew she shouldn’t have been able to see, to move, to think, yet she could. Her gaze locked back onto Landon, his face peaceful, but now that she looked carefully, she could see the hints of fear that he had tried to hide from her.

“Why? Whoever you are—why would you do this?!” Her throat clogged as rage and sorrow mixed, while she was forced to stare at him moments before his death. Hope tried to move away, but her feet wouldn’t move; the muscles in her legs refused to flex. 

Hope tried to reach for her magic, but it was still, frozen just as time itself was. “Haven’t I suffered enough? Just let me—” Her words were cut off as the sob that had been building up tore out of her, a horrible, wretched noise.

Then, a change. The being held no form, it had no mass. It just was. Hope’s sob turned into a laugh filled with anger, because of course. How could she not recognize Mother Nature? Who else could do such a thing? “Do you really hate me so much?” At Hope’s hysterical words, a plea hidden within them to stop this, to let her be free, a barrage of words slammed into her mind. Love not hate. You wished. Help me. Fix it. 

Hope’s anger and sorrow froze, all thoughts coming to a stop. A hint of impossible hope grew inside of her, something that she dared not believe in, yet had to grasp with all her might, because the only other option was something she couldn’t do. Hope knew if time unfroze right now, she wouldn’t be able to do it, not after seeing the fear Landon tried to hide from her.

“What—what do you mean?” Her voice wavered because there were so many options, so many possibilities, but there was one option, one possibility that Hope truly wanted, truly hoped for. Instead of words, images branded their way into her mind.

Silas and Amaura dead. The Other Side destroyed. Her father’s sireline, which helped to bind the magic of the world, erased. Finn and Mikael dying again. Uncle Elijah and her Dad dying together, two ancient anchors of magic disappearing. Uncle Elijah’s entire sireline cracking and fading away. Cade, ruler and creator of hell being erased from existence. Reality fracturing as wishes, time alteration, and alternate realities are made. Mother Nature screaming in agony each time the Therapy Box was used. Ancient monsters slowly being released and dying. Her, the Tribrid, the lynchpin in nature disappearing into Malivore. 

Hope gasped, eyes wide, as one last series of images ensnared her. Fighting ancient beings. Gods. Destroying not just their leader, but also many more who came after her. All of magic fading in the end, only Marcel, Kol, and she remained to tether its remnants to the world. Nature magic nearly gone. Ancestral and Spirit magic were erased from existence. The only thing that remained strong was Dark Magic and one's own power…

As the vision ended, a final sentence was spoken into Hope’s mind. Your wish is granted if you grant this one. There were so many thoughts running through her mind, overloaded with the information and newly gained knowledge, the horror of what was going to occur, the destruction that had been caused and would happen…

Hope knew she had to accept. She knew that there wasn’t a world where she would decline. How could she? How could she, while staring at Landon, with what new knowledge she had been given? But… “I might not be able to fix it all.”

There were no more words, no more images. Instead, her vision darkened, and as searing pain began to spread from her toes upwards, she knew her wish had been granted, but also how desperate Mother Nature truly was. ‘She has to be, if she’s helping me, of all people.’

Hope’s vision went black as pain consumed her.

Voices not heard since the creation of Malivore screamed out in agony as their magic was forcibly consumed. Across the world, every being living or dead, regardless of time being frozen, gained grey veins, their skin turning pale and ashy before they crumbled to dust. 

The world shuddered as the forgotten Gods tried to break free of the frozen time, tried to save themselves. But in the end, only two of them were able to do so, and even they turned to dust under the might of Mother Nature, able to act for the first time since the creation of humanity. For even the mighty Ken and Chronos could not win against Nature.

Two other immortals were able to free themselves momentarily, but unlike the Gods, they had no divine magic they used to do so. One of them stared in shock, a Dark Magic amulet of his own creation burning against his skin as his wife, the love of his immortal life, died. In sorrow, he looked towards the sky, and in a mix of desperation and relief, laughed as he realized what was happening. 

“Good luck, my little witch.” For who else could comprehend such grand sacrificial magic, then the man who had studied it all? “Make sure that dance happens for me, will you, love?” He crumbled to dust, tears running down his face, and a smile on his lips.

Unlike Kol, the second man had no prepared Dark Object. He had no divine magic. No, but what he did have was the Magic of hundreds of years of witches empowering him and a stubborn drive. As Marcel watched the world around him be destroyed, unlike Kol, he didn’t understand what was happening. But as he watched Rebekah fade away, his heart shook, and it was when he heard an ear-piercing screech that seemed to echo out of nowhere that tears finally dripped down his face. “Hope…” Just like every other supernatural being in the world, he had seen the red skies. He had once more experienced blood raining down from the skies.

There was only one thought he could have before he, too, faded away. Hope had lost, and for whatever reason, the world was being destroyed because of it. He held so many regrets and so much sorrow. Would this have happened if he had just picked up the phone instead of leaving her alone in his attempts to convince Rebekah one last time of the beauty of the world? Unlike Kol, who died with a smile on his lips, Marcel died in sorrow, a sob escaping him for the first time in nearly two decades.

Reality fractured. Time rewound.

Hope gasped, air filling her lungs as the sound of people and jazz music surrounded her. Her blue eyes snapped open, and she laughed, tears streaming down her face. ‘Thank you.’ There was no response, but she hadn’t expected any.

The sounds would have been overwhelming: dozens of different songs, thousands of people, countless heartbeats—the jostling of clothes, whispered conversations, shouts, people fighting, people making love. In any other moment, it would have been too much for Hope, having just turned only a short while ago. But it wasn’t. Not in this moment. Instead, all she felt was relief and the realization that she was home. 

Hope pushed herself up, grit digging into her palms as she did so. Yet she froze, eyes wide as she stared at her fingers, planted firmly on the ground, her body halfway to standing. Hands that were far too small—unscarred and with no rings adorning them. Nails that weren’t painted, that weren’t yet drenched in blood. Hope fully stood up, and yet she still felt as if she was still lying on the ground. 

A summer dress that she hadn’t worn in nearly a decade swayed with the movement. An enchanted silver bracelet that Hope hadn’t worn since being possessed by the Hollow at 15 rested around her wrist, her enhanced senses letting her feel how, with each passing moment, it grew warmer. The magic of the Tribrid, much like the Hollow, was too much for it.

Hope cursed, only to clutch at her throat in shock at how light and young it sounded, unaffected by the Hollow’s dark magic, puberty, Malivore’s pit, and everything else she had endured. With hands shaking, she let go of her neck, distantly noting that she hadn’t felt the ever-present necklaces that were always there.

She carefully licked her lips and opened her mouth again, hoping that she would sound different this time. She didn’t. Her eyes shuttered closed as a sigh escaped from her. It was clear to Hope now the timeframe she was in. Back when the Mikaelsons had returned to New Orleans for the second time, but before the start of the inevitable end… “It makes no sense to ask me to save people if they’re already dead.” Yet, at her spoken words, a horrible thought slunk into her mind. ‘What if they aren’t dead yet?’ 

Hope’s eyes shot open as she bent down and picked up a nearby newspaper. With utmost carefulness, she lightly gripped it and stared at the date for five long, excruciating seconds before cursing again. June 22nd, 2011. Okay, this is fine. It’s fine. I’m just months before I’m actually born, in a period where my brother distrusts my family, and my family distrusts my brother, I don’t exist, my mom is pregnant, and I need to travel cross-country to stop the death of an ancient telepathic immortal—while stuck in the body of an eight-year-old. Everything is fine.’ 

Everything was not fine. Because all she wanted to do was sprint to the plantation house and hug her mom and dad, but she couldn’t. Because she didn’t exist. Hope inhaled, trying to calm herself down, only to freeze, muscles locking into place. She smelled it truly for the first time. The throbbing, pulsing, beating hearts of thousands of mortals. Their life-giving blood called to her; the sweet nectar begged Hope to feast. It was only right—only just. They were prey after all. For a brief moment, the world faded away, and all that filled her was that wonderful smell. Her muscles tensed as she prepared for the hunt, but Hope groaned, doing her best to snap out of it.

She didn’t move, even as veins crawled down from her glowing yellow eyes, fangs long and sharp. A moment that seemed to stretch into infinity passed before Hope slowly exhaled, and the monster that usually lurked beneath disappeared. ‘Correction. I’m also still the Tribrid.’ Hope promptly pushed the horrifying thought of being eternally eight to the side and tried to settle down and come up with a plan.

Except she was a newly triggered Tribrid in the middle of a populated city, hungry enough to slaughter, well, the city. Hope stood frozen, unable to decide what to do for a short moment, before a devious look crawled its way across her face—which in reality was more akin to a very cute, happy grin. ‘I mean, if I look eight… I might as well abuse it.’ It was a sudden switch from the dread that had overtaken Hope to whimsical mischief. It would only be hours later that she thought about it, and the implications of vampire and werewolf emotions combining with the instincts of a witch.

Abusing her brother's eternal compassion for children was… probably not the best. Then again, it was either that or Hope drained an entire street of its inhabitants in a blood frenzy. It was clear in her mind which was the better option. Slipping off her old bracelet, Hope placed it into the pocket she remembered her mom sewing after one too many complaints, and looked around curiously. ‘Now then, where am I?’ She stepped out of the alleyway and onto the sidewalk and squinted at a street sign. 

Luckily, she knew the street. Unluckily… ‘Beignets!’ Hope walked towards a shop where she knew the precious treat was, not even realizing she didn’t have money. Then again, she was a vampire now, and nothing soothed her fears, worries, and her occasional existential crisis better than a good beignet. 

Needless to say, a couple of minutes later, Hope was walking down Bourbon Street happily munching on her favorite treat. A delighted moan escaped from her as she turned onto Royal Street. Hope ignored the looks she received from a nearby witch, or how staticy whispers had slowly begun to leak into her mind.

She could deal with her fellow witches and the New Orleans ancestors another time. ‘Not like they can make me do anything.’ She was, after all, the Tribrid. Also eight, but that wasn’t relevant when it came to power. Hopefully. Probably. Except for the whole, tiny limbs, and going from hormonal teenager to child-brain. ‘Shit. I’m going to have to re-learn how to fight.’ 

On the upside, Hope could never reach the top shelf anyway, so at least that wasn't a thing she'd be missing, or else she might've broken down into tears again. She really didn’t want to do that, because this time she’d probably never stop. As it was, the second she found a place to sleep, it was going to be an apocalyptic cry-fest fueled by a mental breakdown.

Hope bit down on her beignet and promptly, like any proper eight-year-old adult, pushed her feelings and problems to the side to deal with later.

A while later, beignet done, Hope stared at the doorway to the Abattoir. The sun at this point had nearly set, and she could already hear the nightwalkers milling about, ready for orders and festivities inside.

On one hand, Hope could play the lost, really hungry eight-year-old card. On the other hand, beating the absolute snot out of her big brother, who had been ignoring her calls for the last few weeks, sounded really good right now.

Decisions, decisions…

Who was Hope kidding? She’d never show up her brother in front of his lackeys. Not when he wasn’t truly immortal and powerful at least. ‘I can bully him and his minions when a regular stake can’t end him.’ The thought alone had Hope wanting to grab him and place him in the deepest darkest vault until she could upgrade him, but she didn’t.

No, instead, Hope planted an innocent look on her face, tensed her legs, and with a light push off the ground, went sailing through the air. She landed on a balcony perched precariously on its edge, and with a click of her fingers, the window unlocked.

Opening it up, Hope wiggled on inside and silently landed in the room that she knew to be Uncle Kol’s, or at least, would be in the future. Taking a step forward towards the door, she froze as she heard a voice, muffled through the door, and in the hallway just outside. Even with all the ruckus on the floor below, numerous conversations, and even what sounded like a fist-fight, she would hear him any day, no matter what. Marcel. “D? What’s up? Is something wrong?”

Hope froze. ‘Oh shit. I forgot!’ Aunt Davina was the harvest girl right now. The harvest girl with a connection to all of New Orleans. A harvest girl who could sense every single spell cast throughout the French Quarter. Which Hope was in, mere feet away from Davina’s adopted father/guardian. “Right now? In the Abattoir?”

Hope stared at the ceiling before she sighed softly. She probably should have just left New Orleans to give herself time to adjust and properly compartmentalize. Fuck. She opened the door, and as she peered into the hallway. When Marcel turned to her in shock, phone resting next to his ear, she innocently blinked her eyes wide and seemingly confused. “I’m gonna have to call you back, D.” Slipping the phone into his pocket, Marcel had a small, calming smile on his face—one that she also read as confused and weary. “Hey there. What are you doing in here?”

Hope didn’t know how to respond to that, so she did what she thought any kid faced with messing up, and their big brother, even if he didn’t know it, would do. Absolute slander and diversion. Her eyes watered, her lips quivered, and her mouth opened for a cry. “Wait! Hold on there, what’s wrong, kid?” Hope paused, a loud sniffle escaping from her as she stared at him.

“You took my sister!” Technically speaking, Davina was Hope’s aunt, but their relationship was weird to say the least, considering Marcel was more big brother, even though he was technically her uncle. In the future, legally speaking, of course. Hope held back the delirious giggle that wanted to escape.

Marcel froze, eyes wide. “You’re sister?” Hope took a deep sniff, as if gathering her courage, before planting one hand on her hip and the other pointing directly at him.

Step two. Confuse him even more, because the second she had said it, Hope knew that he’d just call Davina, and the lie would be exposed. “Rebekah! You stole her heart.” 

“Wha—” Hope blurred in front of Marcel and promptly snapped his neck before he could react. The fact that she had to get on her tippy-toes even while he was bent down was utterly embarrassing. He dropped to the ground with a thud. ‘Note to self, don’t try to lie until I can take a moment to breathe and adjust.’ Hope should have expected returning to a child’s body as the Tribrid, and traveling nearly two decades through time would have done something to her.

She just hadn’t expected… whatever the hell she had just done. ‘Enough of that. Now, where do you keep your blood bags, Marcel?’ Rapid footsteps reached her ears, and Hope sighed.

Time seemed to slow down as she moved, veins popping across her face as her eyes once more glowed yellow. In what seemed like an instant, but for her was dozens of moments, body after body began to drop to the ground across the compound as she blurred across it. She pushed herself off walls, leaped from a higher step, or off of banisters, all so that she could reach their necks and snap them in a sickening dance.

There was a shout of panic, an attempt at regaining order, but within a few seconds, it all fell silent. Now standing in the middle of the courtyard on the first floor, Hope groaned as she looked at all the unconscious bodies around her. “That… was a horrible plan.” Hope also felt just plain horrendous because she had basically just snapped the necks of dozens of vampires, out of sheer panic. ‘It’s fine, no one died. Now, where’s the blood stash?’ 

She needed to find that and get out as soon as possible. Preferably somewhere with a nice bath and a warm bed.

A little while later, having found and then gorged on the bagged blood supply, Hope sped out of the compound and headed towards a hotel to compel herself a room, doing her utmost not to think of the moral implications. After all, she had already compelled herself a beignet, snapped her brother's neck, snapped all of his minions' necks, and stolen blood.

It was just one more sin for the day.

Anything was better than killing Landon and breaking Josie's heart.

Huddled underneath the covers of her newly compelled bedroom, Hope blankly stared at the ceiling, eyes puffy. In the last four hours, she had broken down crying five times, caused the lights to flicker seven times, and even, in a fit of rage, managed to break the TV. Luckily, she had remembered to cloak herself and cast silencing spells around the room before doing any of that.

Every once in a while, Hope had felt Davina’s magic attempt to latch onto her in a locator spell, but the cloaking held. The first time she had felt it, Hope had realized that she had probably left a strand of hair somewhere, or maybe some saliva on the blood bags.

She hadn’t cared, and still didn’t. Honestly, at this point, she was struggling to feel much about anything; she was just exhausted. Through curtained windows, a bit of sunlight peeked in, and Hope sighed in annoyance. ‘The first sleepless night of many.’ From the existential crisis about being eight again, from horrible flashbacks of nearly killing Landon, or just from the memory of outright dying, it had been a bad night without a wink of sleep. Especially when her death also brought up her time inside the pit, which usually led her to not sleeping for days on end.

But that was fine. Hope was used to that. She was used to trauma making it so that she couldn’t sleep; that same trauma usually gave her the restless energy to just do something anyway. It was how most of her personal spells were made, or half of her artwork. Of course, Hope’s pile of trauma had now increased and then magnified because of vampire emotions.

But she would deal with it in time; she always did. The night had been spent in tears, misery, and deep contemplation. Plan after plan, idea after idea. Just trying to figure out what she even wanted to do.

Hope didn’t like playing the puppeteer, nudging people on strings to do what she wanted. But it was sadly a game that Hope would now have to play to keep her promise, and to make sure herself and the unborn version of herself would never have to go through what she had in the past timeline. One thing that had always stuck with Hope was how alone she had been, even if some of her family remained.

She had never been lonelier than now. Yet, there was a future where she wouldn’t be lonely, where this timeline's version of her wouldn’t have to be either. It was that thought that barely got Hope through the night and would help her get through future nights as well. Hope abruptly stood up and stretched, ready for the day and the future.

She had no money, no clothes, no allies, but she did have one thing, one thing that had never left her, never could. Power. Because no matter where she was, no one could deny a Mikaelson witch that, let alone her. Because she was Hope Mikaelson, the Tribrid. 

‘So then. Witches, Davina, or Fauline’s Cottage?’ It was a hard choice, because on one hand, Hope wanted to see her aunt, even if she’d remain sleeping for many more months. On the other hand, she should really deal with the whole ancestors whispering at her problem.

Which is why Hope chose the third option. Because Aunt Freya was safe. The Ancestors would always remain annoying, and she had the beginnings of an utterly diabolical plan. But Davina? She was sixteen, her entire life had been uprooted, and her only contact was the vampire that had saved her. Her youngest aunt was stuck in an attic with far too much power, no idea how to control it, and believing the world was against her.

Hope knew far too well what being alone with that much power could do to someone. ‘I suppose the plan is set.’ 

Hope put on her cute little flats, wiggled into her summer dress, and left her motel room at the crack of dawn. ‘I can’t believe I’m finally going back to that place…’ It had been years since she had been there; the last time Hope had set foot inside the church was when she had brutally massacred forty-six vampires and one innocent man, the only human she had ever killed. Then again, the vampires were literal Nazis spouting vampire-purism propaganda and wanted her dead, so she had never really felt bad about killing them. Bill, on the other hand…

Hope fidgeted for a little bit before she decided to take the longest route possible. It was early anyway, and Davina would still be sleeping. Hope had all the time in the world, and the immortality to match it.

Even if she was actually on a bit of a tight schedule, because Silas and Amara would die in a few months, and Hope somehow had to make it to Mystic Falls before anyone discovered that Stefan Salvatore was actually Silas. 

In all honesty, Silas and Amara were likely to be the most difficult on her list of ‘things to fix’. Hope was short on time, barely knew anything about them, didn’t know their movements, and to top it off, one of the most powerful witches of all time actively wanted them dead. Oh, also, Silas was powerful enough to completely trick her father, which meant she needed to make preparations. ‘I’ll also need to prepare for the possibility that I can’t save them.’ Because in the grand scheme of things, while they were two old Immortals, there were many more she needed to save, and the most important thing about them was their connection to the Other Side.

Hope Mikaelson hated the dead interfering in the living world; they had tried to kill her, well, her entire life. They had corrupted the living, and so much more. The Other Side, however, was sadly now entrenched in the magic of the world. To destroy it would leave a gaping wound that Hope couldn’t even fathom how she’d fix. ‘So if I can’t save them, I need to find someone who can handle being the Anchor.’ Also slaughtering every traveler who believed in Marcos, but that didn’t really need to be thought about. There were so many ways to deal with the traveler problem, and in the end, they were just irrelevant. 

They were small potatoes compared to Hope’s other problems, and honestly could be easily solved by just making sure people stayed vampires when they turned. Really. What was so wrong with adoption or waiting until science evolved enough to clone dead eggs? Hope understood the want to have children more than most, but… when you were immortal and in a world filled with wonder and magic, killing yourself for it was just plain stupid, especially when it was so close and around the corner.

Then again, maybe that was just her newly reset eight-year-old brain talking—alongside the trauma of having nearly killed the only person she’d ever trusted enough to sleep with. Hope didn’t know which was frustrating to say the least. ‘Enough stalling, Mikaelson. You can do this, just… go into that church, up the stairs, into the attic, and speak with her. That’s all you need to do.’ There was just one problem: Hope didn’t know if this was before or after her father had delightfully decided to hand over her Uncle Elijah to a teenage witch. There were many things she was prepared for. Seeing him? Not one she was particularly excited for, even if she had forgiven him with time, and with how fervently he had spent his last days with her.

It was hard to hate the dead. Especially when Elijah Mikaelson, among all of her family, was the only one Hope truly pitied. Hope groaned, patted down her dress, and strode up the steps of St. Anne’s Church.

The first thing that hit her, besides the overwhelming scent of candles, was a single human heartbeat. It pulsed slowly, and she could feel the ache embedded in each beat. It was a pain she knew well, but to feel it from another was new. But then again, Hope had recently had her magic massively amplified, gained psychic abilities from vampirism, and then traveled through time. So new was to be expected. 

The next thing that hit her was the pulsing of blood in time with each beat of the heart. But before Hope could feel her bloodlust rise, she smelled the tang of vervain and wolfsbane, burning her nostrils. Realization struck as she took a few silent steps into the church and finally saw him. Praying in one of the pews, head bent forward, was a man she had never seen before, but had heard plenty about. Declan’s uncle, Father Kieran. 

Any hunger she possibly could’ve had instantly evaporated as he was firmly placed in the ‘do not touch’ category. She’d never do that to Declan. He was too much like a…

Well, it was complicated. Needless to say, though, as she continued walking, the Father did not need to fear her. Walking up next to him, Hope silently sat down, feet kicking the air as she did so—because she was far too small to reach the floor. A whispered prayer that Hope didn’t care to catch left his lips, and Father Kieran pushed open his eyes and turned towards her, only to blink in shock. “Hi there! You’re Father Kieran, right?”

He slowly nodded, a soft smile forming on his face. “I am, and you are?” Hope tilted her head in thought, teeth subconsciously worrying at her bottom lip.

“That’s a complicated question.” Would she go by Hope Mikaelson, and inevitably force her… younger self/little sister/doppelganger to go by a different name? ‘Figure it out later. Not now.’ Either way, she didn’t know. So with a beaming smile, she continued, “I didn’t expect to see you here, though. I was coming to see Davina.”

His kind smile tightened, a gleam appearing in his eyes that people always got when they were trying to figure others out. Hope didn’t mind; it was normal. At least to her it was. “I just moved back. How do you know Davina?” His tone was still light and kind, words coming out slow and soft. 

Honestly, if she weren’t in an eight-year-old’s body, Hope would have been insulted. But she was, so… “She’s really nice, and I missed her! So I found her.” His lips twitched, and his eyes narrowed just slightly, in the way adults did when they heard something they didn’t want to know, but also didn’t want to alarm children. Hope found it amusing. Her smile just grew wider.

“Is that so? Does that mean you know where she is?” Hope nodded and pointed upwards.

“Ahuh. In the attic!” She stood up, subconsciously smoothing out her dress. “I’m gonna go see her now, bye~” Hope traipsed off, waving behind her as she ignored his words and calls after her. “Tell Marcel last night was fun whenever you call him!” His breath hitched, and she had to fight back happy giggles that wanted to bubble up.

Hope Mikaelson didn’t giggle. She was the mighty Tribrid, not actually an eight-year-old innocent child. She climbed the stairs, and a singular one escaped, and she internally slumped. ‘I’m gonna need to figure out how to fix this.’ It was… embarrassing not being able to control herself, especially when it was amplified by the mess of a being that she had just become.

Honestly, Hope was sure she was going to be insane by the time this was all over. ‘Then again, what Mikaelson is sane?’ Even poor, sweet Keelin was a certifiable nutcase. Honestly, the only innocent one of them was little Nik. 

Hope stared at the door in front of her, blinking a few times in confusion. ‘Huh, I was really deep in thought…’ Either that or she had subconsciously used her superspeed. She wasn’t sure. Either way, with a calming breath, she raised a fist and knocked. 

Hope didn’t hear anything, even though her senses should have easily been able to hear anything behind it, and internally she preened at how smart and talented her baby aunt was to set up a permanent silence spell. She sniffed, head tilted much like a dog. ‘Alarm spell, one-way silence barrier, protection spells, and even a minor consecration ritual?’

For a sixteen-year-old witch without a coven, Hope was impressed. Especially with the fact that she knew no one else would have been able to sense them, and it was only her sheer power and raw experience that let her do so. Of course, the spells were horribly inefficient in their casting, although that likely came from either the Claire grimoire being poor, Davina making them herself, or just using raw power instead of a real spell. 

The handle turned, and Hope was knocked out of her thoughts. As the door opened, a beaming smile found its way onto Hope’s face as her suddenly much younger aunt appeared in the doorway, with sleepy eyes and messy hair. Hope wanted to grab her into a massive hug and break down into tears, but also squeal at how cute she looked so young. Instead, she waved.

“Hi!” Davina took one look at her before her hand raised. ‘Oops. Marcel probably told her what I look like!’ A blast of magic that Hope recognized as a simple telekinesis spell was about to hit her, but she responded with her own magic that swiftly lashed out and crushed it. Hope just kept her smile, even as Davina’s brown eyes widened in shock at her not moving. “That was really good! But it could be better. Can I come in?”  

Before Davina could answer, Hope turned into a blur and carefully shimmied past Davina at super speed. ‘Downside of an attic, you can’t own it separately, and the church doesn’t have a specific owner!’ 

Hope, with a grunt that she knew sounded cute, hoisted herself up on top of a suspiciously coffin-shaped table that had a cover over it, and crossed her legs. Davina turned to face Hope, eyes still wide, but clearly weary. “You’re an old one.” ‘Huh. I thought so. Thanks for confirming it, though, Davina.’ Hope had theorized she would be an original, especially after feeling how strong and fast she was when turned. But it was good for someone else to think so.

She childishly stuck out her tongue. “Ahuh, and you’re a harvest witch! Which is super not cool that your coven would do that to you.” Davina took a deep breath, her eyes momentarily darting to a phone on her bed before she closed the door. Hope pouted. “Don’t worry! I told Father Kieran to call Marcel so you’d feel safe. No need to rush for that.” She looked around, eyes locking onto the easel momentarily, before they shifted and continued to survey the room.

“What… what do you want?” At Davina’s hesitant, fearful words, Hope snapped out of her childlike state and forced her brain to stop running on autopilot. ‘Right, traumatized teenager.’ 

Her smile turned small and soft. “I’m here to help you.” Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out a crumpled-up ball of paper and tossed it over, which Davina quickly and cautiously caught. “Go ahead, it’s not hexed. It’ll help you better control the other three elements inside of you, and there are a few other control exercises, some magical, and some not.”

Was Hope giving away over a thousand years of carefully crafted secrets meant to help control a firstborn Mikaelson witch's magic, that Dahlia and then Freya had slaved over to create? Yes. But in Hope's mind, Davina was a Mikaelson witch, and as a harvest girl, she certainly had the power to match a firstborn. Although how the math worked out to four relatively untrained witches' powers becoming that strong… Well, Hope didn’t know and would need to study it a bit more to figure it out. 

Davina hesitantly looked down, hands uncrumpling the various sheets Hope had casually written on before balling up, and her breath hitched. “These are…”

“Mhm! Some of my family’s magic. See? No need to fear me.” Davina’s eyes had a shine to them, a hint of moisture forming at her lashes, and Hope’s heart hurt. Because no one should feel that way about someone being willing to help them! 

“Why would you do this for me?” Hope stood up precariously on top of the definitely not her uncle’s coffin and shrugged with seemingly no care in the world.

“All my life before…” She waved her hand up and down her body as if that would describe it before she continued, “I was hunted and persecuted. People tried to sacrifice me multiple times. I figure us girls people wanna sacrifice should help each other out.” Hope paused, “Also, because I feel really bad about snapping Marcel and all his minions’ necks.”

A hesitant, somewhat hysterical laugh left Davina. Hope turned away as a tear fell, and she jumped down. “But I should get going.” Hope looked back after she heard Davina’s hand wipe across her face. “I’ll see you soon, and we can talk then, after you know it’s all true, okay?” Before Davina could respond, she blurred out of the attic, the window snapping shut behind her.

A second later, Marcel burst in.

Hope landed on the ground and, without missing a beat, sped into an alleyway before slowing down. ‘Well, that could have gone worse.’ She had only made her aunt cry once, instead of, you know, snapping her neck. At least it was a good cry, probably?

Hope would count that as an improvement. ‘Now then, maybe the ancestors?’ The smell of yummy pastries hit her nose, and immediately that thought left her mind. She could deal with them later. For now, she was hungry! Without any thought, she stuffed her newly acquired paintbrush into her pocket and followed her nose. ‘That’ll be useful later. Sorry, Davina!’

Marcel Gerard

Looking down at the wrinkled notebook paper D had given him, Marcel held back from cursing in front of her. She was just a kid, after all. ‘This is bad.’ He had never been a witch, but he had over a century of experience with the Mikaelsons and during that time had full access to their libraries. On top of a burning need to prove himself in his youth, Marcel knew far more about magic than most vampires.

The magic wasn’t what concerned him. Hell, he was delighted because he was pretty damn sure it would work, and what was on that paper was powerful with a capital P. No, the problem lay in the exercises and guidance that little redhead had written—because he recognized some of it. Marcel stared at the words written in a cutesy and artistic way. He stared at one sentence. Close your eyes and sing. 

It could be a coincidence—hell, any other time he would have called it that. But her words from last night echoed inside his head. “Rebekah! You stole her heart.” A shiver went down Marcel’s spine as he realized the game he’d been playing with Klaus was suddenly spinning out of control.

One coincidence was fine, something to throw him off his game. But two in rapid succession? He looked up, worry etched across his face. “D. What did you feel from her?” She shivered, arms drawing tight, and Marcel felt like his heart stopped as she spoke the words he absolutely didn’t want to hear.

“She felt like him. Like an old one. The magic inside of her was ancient and powerful in ways…” Davina trailed off, her eyes glazing over. “Marcel, I don’t think I can do anything to her. When I tried to throw her around, like you taught me, it did nothing.” 

Putting his worries away, Marcel flashed a smile as he took a step forward. “Hey, D. Look at me.” She did, and his smile widened. “Don’t worry about it. She said she wanted to help you, right? Then she’s not an enemy.” He wasn’t so sure about that. He knew better than to trust his own words because his gut told him turmoil was coming, one that he wasn’t prepared for. But D didn’t need to know that. She was just a kid, one with a lot of power, sure. But in the end, she was just a kid who dreamed about love and friendship.

She smiled, shoulders slumping as if the weight of the world had been taken off of her. “Right. Do you… Do you think I should talk to her if she comes again?” Marcel wanted to say no; he wanted to scoop Davina up and hide her away. But he couldn’t. The last time he had tried that, she had started shaking and leaking blood from her nose and ears, and so he kept his same charming smile on his face and nodded.

“I think you’ve met someone very powerful who wants to help you. Someone who isn’t connected to the French Quarter witches. I won’t make you, but yeah. I do think you should, D. Just be careful.”

Still, there was something strange about that girl; he just didn’t know what. ‘Why would someone so powerful panic at the sight of me?’

Chapter Text

Swirling the fry around in her milkshake, Hope waved her other hand around wildly. “So, here’s the thing. No one knows I exist, right? Well, apart from Marcel and Davina, but that doesn’t count because they have no real idea who I am. I could totally just fuck off right now, shift, run across the country, and kill Malivore, pop into Mystic Falls to drop Silas. Hell, I could hunt around for the stoner god Mother Nature showed me. She probably has something that can fix my whole ‘about to have an episode and probably kill everyone on accident’ problem.”  

The man across from her didn’t move, but Hope just kept going. “Except there’s one problem. Mother Nature, the absolute bitch, knew that the second I knew Landon was born and safe, I’d delete that mud pit. Walk right through the Triad’s base and drip my blood into his stupid pit. So I have no memory of where the fuck he is.” She plopped the fry now sufficiently moist into her mouth, chewed it, swallowed, and continued. “But here’s the thing. I still could find him. Mother Nature gave me visions of Lizzie’s little wish worlds, even if my actual memories have holes in them, so I have no pity for any of them. I still remember Clarke and MG’s mom; it wouldn’t be hard for me to find out. But now I’m thinking, why does Mother Nature not want me to kill Malivore?”

She slurped some of her milkshake before dipping another fry. “But then, somewhere between crying my eyes out and barely holding back my magic from forming a nuke and exploding the French Quarter, I realized it. I was the linchpin for magic and all of nature. She revealed that, but what if there are two of me? Now, you might be thinking, why would Malivore's existence matter? Well, that’s simple. Something to push little me to grow, and get her to slowly accept the inevitability of being a Tribrid, and how being dead isn’t that bad. Or maybe because Mother Nature knows if I accidentally killed Landon, I’d probably turn off my humanity completely.”

Hope paused, but this time it was with concern. “Hey, hold on. I barely took a nibble—which I know. I shouldn’t, I’ll try to do better in the future and use blood bags. But you shouldn’t be looking this pale.” With a grief-filled sigh, she looked him in the eyes, “Hand me your glass.” He did, like a robot at mercy to her whims. For a brief moment, her fangs grew, and she tore into her own wrist, letting blood pool into the glass. “Alright, drink up, buddy. Really, I’m sorry about this. But I’m pretty sure I’ve, like, managed to halfway flip my switch or fried my brain from feeling too much. And really, I’m just rambling because I have so many emotions and UGH!” Throwing her hands up, she mentally pushed the glass over to him.

“Drink that, forget this ever happened, go home, be careful over the next twenty-four hours, and remember that everyone deserves happiness.. Know that because you listened to someone today, even though you won’t remember who, you helped them out, and you should feel good about that. Oh, and you can talk again when you leave the restaurant.” He drank from the glass, stood up, and walked out.

Hope sighed and dipped another fry into her shake, which sadly had its whipped cream on the top. “I’m really gonna need to get a hold on my emotions.” Either that or find the Prism. ‘Okay, that one is really just to see Landon.’ 

Hope knew it was sad and pathetic that she was still pining after the boy she had nearly killed less than twenty-four hours ago. But like, sure, she had ‘given’ him up for Josie… “Ughh, stupid vampire emotions. Can’t I go five seconds without thinking about his stupidly cute face and those twinkling green-gray eyes? I might never even see him again!”

Luckily, Hope had already compelled everyone in the diner, or else there would have been problems. As it was, she devoured her milkshake and fries while having her meltdown and moaned about boy troubles for a boy that might not even exist yet, as any eighteen-turned-eight Tribrid should.

Staring at her empty glass, Hope leaned back in contentment. “That felt good. Okay, meltdown of the day over with. No more pining over his stupidly handsome—” Hope muffled a scream in her hands, took a deep breath, and stood up. “I need to do something or else I’m gonna spiral from him to crying about heavens forbid Lizzie of all people next.”  She ignored how her head barely crested the table, or how talking to oneself was a good sign of insanity, and walked out of the diner. ‘Fuck it. Time for Chaos.’ 

If there were one way to get her head off of him and everyone else, it would surely be by flipping the script. Looking around, Hope grinned and made a peace sign. “Hi Davina! Invisique.” 

Honestly, she had no idea if Davina could actually hear or see the person doing spells in the quarter, but pissing her off by ignoring Marcel’s rules sounded absolutely divine to Hope. ‘Then again, if I’m going to ignore my brother's rules, it’s only fair I get Dad mad to balance it out.’ A bit of teenage rebellion was in order, even if she was eight again.

Of course, there was the whole problem of her dad locking up her mom in the Mansion so she’d be there, but what’s a little sleuthing between mother and not-yet-born daughter? ‘Holy fuck, I need therapy and ASAP. I might actually be going insane this time.’ 

Still, questionable sanity aside, Hope invisibly walked toward what was her legally owned property in about eighteen or so years, before the whole jumping into a pit thing. She could superspeed to it, and it’d only really take a second or two, but… Just walking around New Orleans before all the death that haunted her was nice, in a strange, really macabre way. Gods, Hope had missed her home. Hell, she had missed even being able to think about it as home. 

Okay, so somewhere in the midst of her breakdown, the lack of sleep, her likely manic episode, and Tribrid emotions, Hope had forgotten one critical thing. She didn’t know where the fuck the thing she was after actually was in the Mansion. She knew her father decently well, and she knew they were somewhere and even likely what they were next to.

There was just one problem: Hope couldn’t find the damn coffins to find his daggers. ‘If I were my homicidal, emotionally repressed, in deep denial, sibling murderer of my father, where would I place the coffins?’ 

Honestly, that wasn’t helpful at all. Because if Hope were him, she’d make them a prominent display piece. Probably turn the bar into one of the coffins, so that she could pour herself shots on Elijah’s face. But Hope had already checked that entire room, and everywhere else in the mansion. Which meant he had probably stashed them in one of the roughly two dozen secret rooms or passages throughout the building. Hope sighed and got to work, which was made exceptionally harder by doing her best to avoid her pregnant mother.

‘Of course.’ Why wouldn’t the stupid coffins be in the last place Hope checked? It was honestly just her luck. Honestly, the creepy, stone room that had honest-to-god cobwebs in it held her family’s coffins, was so cliche. ‘Now, where are the daggers?’ 

Perhaps predictably, Hope found them underneath her Aunt Rebekah’s coffin. Hope knew she wasn’t the only one in her family who desperately needed therapy as soon as possible, but fuck. That hiding place was a level of co-dependency that Lizzie and Josie could only dream of. “Hello? Klaus, is that you?” Hope froze, pupils dilating as a longing look appeared on her face. Her mom's voice was as beautiful as she remembered it. Tears welled up inside of her and…

Hope sped out of there instantly, tears dripping down her face. ‘Nope. Not happening.’ 

Hayley Marshall

“Weird…” Looking around, she reared back in shock as she finally registered what the room actually was. “Okay, that’s just sick. Who keeps coffins in their hidden basement?”

Apparently, her monstrous one-night stand did. Fuck. Why did the nice one have to disappear, leaving her here all alone with him? ‘I should have known better than to trust him, to have trusted any of them.’ But, it’s not like she could do anything, connected to that absolute bitch of a witch, Sophie Deveraux. 

Her hand rested on her stomach, and Hayley sighed. ‘I’m sorry, baby. You don’t deserve this.’

Back in her hotel room, Hope stared thoughtfully at the dagger on her bed, the other one already hidden away. “This is a really stupid idea.” Then again, stupid ideas were basically all she had been running on so far.  “You’d have called me insane and laughed your head off if I actually did this and it ended up working.” 

It was stupid, insane, and made no sense. Then again, that was basically secret magic lessons with Uncle Kol. The first rule, besides not telling Aunt Freyah about secret magic lessons that had spells that could get Hope expelled? Which, really, it was just some minor Dark Magic, Kemiya, and a few other forgotten magics. Well, the first real rule was that magic was insane, made no sense, and actually had no rules.

So really, it wasn’t that big of a deal that all Hope had to do was figure out how to revive her uncle using the tool of his torture, without his ashes. Even if no one had ever done it before, and any sane—so weak—witch would call it impossible. Then again, she was the all-powerful Tribrid. Surely it couldn’t be that hard? Even if her grandmother more than likely already had a tight hold on his soul, Hope still planned to do her best.

She wanted her uncle back and to stop him from using a meat-puppet, dying again, and utterly traumatizing Davina, damnit! Then again, this wouldn’t be difficult at all if her family had ever actually trusted her with any of the various resurrection spells she knew they had. Even Vincent of all people had said no!

It wasn’t like Hope was just gonna randomly resurrect her mom and dad. Contrary to what everyone, including literal monsters, said, she wasn’t that desperate. Except for the weeks following leaving the pit—but that was a dark time in general. But still, her original intention had been to figure out a way to revive herself without triggering her vampire blood. It’s just that no one trusted her, like usual, all because she went a bit mentally unstable after the Hollow and her parents' deaths. ‘Okay, enough of my ranting. So I just have to make up a resurrection spell from scratch, replace all need for DNA and a magical signature with a dagger that tortured him, and revive him from that. Simple. The dagger should hold imprints of his suffering from when he slowly regained consciousness.’ 

Honestly, this probably didn’t even scratch the top three on the insanity charts for Hope’s many plans she had thought up during her long sleepless night. Walking over to the bed, her dress swishing as she did so, Hope carefully picked up the dagger and intently stared at it. ‘Okay, do a bit of spellcrafting, and then start to deal with the witches.’ She looked down and frowned. ‘Actually, I should get clothes first. I can’t just wear this one dress.’ Even if it was a very nice dress that she had missed wearing after outgrowing it.

It was gonna be a long freaking day, and Hope doubted it would be even remotely the most stressful in the next couple of years. ‘One set of problems at a time. Silas, the Harvest, and my birth.’ Kol was going to be important for the Harvest because if anyone could circumvent it without screwing over all of New Orleans, it would be him. Silas would require some careful preparation and probably a bit of carefully used dark magic. As for her birth, that was a whole clusterfuck that Hope just didn’t want to even think about at the moment. Besides, it was also the least immediate of the three current issues. 

‘Somewhere in there, I need to find a Prism or someone to talk to so I don’t explode, and you know, drown all of America in plagues or something.’ Considering Hope had literally caused the sky to turn red when she had become the Tribrid, there was no doubt in her mind that something absolutely biblical could happen. With a deep breath, she forced all her problems to the back of her mind and focused on the dagger in her hand. 

After her first attempts at figuring out how to revive Kol, Hope had indeed decided clothes shopping was in order. Once that was done, and she had compelled some very kind people to bring her clothes to her motel, she sat, somewhat subdued, at a corner table in Rousseau’s. This time, she had compelled everyone to believe she looked significantly older than she actually did.

‘I wish I could stop using it…’ Honestly, of all her newly acquired abilities, compulsion was the ability Hope hated the most, even though it was also the one she had used the most so far. As her food arrived, Hope groaned when the door opened, and Marcel walked in. The fact that she could hear dozens of vampires taking up position on the rooftops had Hope wanting to bang her head on the table as he slid in across from her, a wide smile on his face. Because numbers didn’t matter. The entire city could be after her, and if they were all vampires as young as his group, she wouldn’t even be tired.

So the show of force he had tried to do was just embarrassing, and honestly, Hope just felt bad for her brother. “You know, I can’t say I’ve ever had my neck snapped and all my guys taken out in my own house in my own city by a child before.” 

Hope rolled her eyes. Her brother was so melodramatic during this time period, really. What’s a little neck snapping between family? She was by far the most tame of them, besides little Nik, but he was a literal baby. “I’m glad I’m your first time, Marcel.” Instantly, a grimace spread across her lips, which he mirrored. “Okay, that was bad phrasing. Especially when I currently look like a child.”

With pursed lips, he stared right into her eyes. “When D said you were an Old One, my first thought was possession. Especially when she said her magic just outright didn’t work. I don’t know which Original you are, but in my city, we don’t hurt children.” 

Hope laughed loud and clear, only to cut herself off as his eyes narrowed and anger burned in them. “Sorry, it’s just refreshing to hear someone in charge actually care about kids.” In hindsight, there was no way in hell Hope should have been ‘helping out’ Alaric since her parents' death, even as an excuse to do something and burn off excess energy. Still, while the sentiment was great, she did have to correct something…

“I’m not actually possessing a body, I’m afraid. This is all me, sadly. Still working on a fix for being eternally pre-pubescent.” 

Marcel stared, eyes narrowed. Hope knew there was a reason he had been the leader of the vampires for so long, but that look, even while he was so weak, just further cemented it for her. “I’d love to believe you, but I know what all the Mikaelsons look like, even the long-dead ones.”

Hope tilted her head, an innocent smile on her face. “What if even the other Originals didn’t know? Memories are such feeble things in our world filled with magic, after all.” His mouth opened for a second before he shut it, and nodded for her to continue, the curiosity clear in his eyes to Hope. “I have no reason to lie about this, Marcel. Especially when I know you won’t tell them about me. I’m not possessing anyone, and they don’t know about me, no matter how much I miss them.” 

He stared for a moment, and Hope almost wanted to laugh as he tried to figure out the game, what angle she was playing. Where truth mixed with lies. But that was the thing. Once, seemingly long ago, Hope had believed everyone lied. Then she had gained friends, a boyfriend, and had wild, mind-melting sex with her birdboy. Repeatedly. Stayed in the pit for a three-month vacation and then had her heart shattered repeatedly. She had grown since then. She hated lying. Creative use of the truth? Sure. Hell, under a truth spell, she had once told Josie she could just wait a hundred years for Landon. There was a reason Hope called herself her father’s daughter, after all. 

Marcel had been raised by some of the darkest parts of her father. He wouldn’t know to look at her from that angle, wouldn’t even think to. Not yet. So instead, her fake innocent smile turned more genuine, and Hope held out her hand. “Shall we start over? I’m horribly sorry about last night, but I hadn’t fed since waking up, and couldn’t trust myself around humans to do so with how hungry I was.”

A moment passed, before, with a sigh, a charming smile spread across his face. “Considering what you did for D, I think just this once we can start over.” Marcel shook her hand, and Hope happily laughed.

“Thank you for that. It’s wonderful to meet you again, Marcellus Gerard. I’m Hope Mikaelson.” She dropped her hand back into her lap. ‘Shit. Sorry, little me. Guess I’m sticking to Hope.’ “I’m sure neither Klaus nor Elijah before he was daggered told you this, but what you’ve built from scratch is quite wonderful, slightly concerning, and mildly racist, but still quite wonderful.”

For the second time in this conversation, Marcel’s mouth opened only to shut with a sigh. “I can already tell you’re closest to Kol, aren’t you?” 

“Was it the backhanded compliment, me implying I know you have Elijah, calling you out for your treatment of witches and wolves, messing with Davina’s magic sensing all day, or the fact that I snapped your neck after sneaking into Kol’s old room and saying you stole my sister's heart?”

“Yes,” Marcel’s voice was dry, and Hope found herself having to hold back the bubbling up laughter again. Instead, she childishly swung her feet to burn off some of the excess energy.

“I’ll have you know I’m a perfectly innocent angel who would never sneak behind our families' backs with Kol. That much. Really, it’s only like once a week. Goat sacrifices and desecrating the dead are only once a quarter.” Considering kids were never in the cards for Davina and Kol, her relationship with them, particularly in the last year or so, was interesting to say the least. “You haven’t asked me yet, by the way.”

He tilted his head in a silent question, and so Hope explained. “Why am I here? Why did I help Davina? How does no one know me, and why can I do magic?” He raised an eyebrow, and so Hope put one finger to her lips. “That’s a secret for me to keep and everyone else to find out!” 

Marcel chuckled. “I figured. Well, as long as you respect my rules, you’re welcome as a guest in the quarter. Don’t go killing my vampires, don’t kill the locals, and don’t go mindlessly gorging on the tourists. That way, the blood never stops flowing, and the party never stops.”

Hope nodded, legs still innocently kicking. “That’s no problem. Unlike the rest of our family, I see no point in senseless killing.” 

There was shock hidden in his eyes at something, but Hope had no time to analyze it as her eyes narrowed. Her keen hearing picked up a whooshing noise, before a scent that caused her heart to beat in longing. “Don’t tell Klaus about me, not that he’d believe you.” In a blur, she disappeared, leaving Marcel to sit there alone in contemplation.

“Our.” A strange, almost longing look crossed Marcel’s face before he straightened up as Klaus stepped through the door.

Snuggled into bed, Hope sighed as she thought about the day. ‘This childlike body is affecting me far too much.’ From Davina, to the constant distractions of food and blood, all the way to letting Marcel actually find her, everything felt off. They were the whims of a child, whims she had long since outgrown. It made things difficult, to say the least. It didn’t help that becoming a Tribrid—or maybe simply being trapped in a child’s body—seemed to dredge up problems and emotional instability Hope had spent long, hard years working through.

That was honestly why Hope had decided to revive Kol. Of all her family, he was the one most likely to help with her difficulty focusing, and the one most likely to trust her when she talked about Malivore. He was the only one Hope knew wouldn’t look at her strangely if she broke down, just like she had after the pit. Even Aunt Freya had looked at her differently after that, but Kol never did. Then again, he was the only one who could really begin to understand what being in Malivore was like. 

And with her being stuck in an unaging child’s body, Kol’s magical knowledge should have something to help her with that, too. Still, even with her current problems, the day had certainly gone better than the previous one. But Hope could feel it clawing at her, the memories, the thoughts, and emotions. She knew it would be another sleepless night, and so she decided on something that would be a bit better than wallowing in her bed as she cried.

Already stripped of her clothes, she pushed herself off the bed and lay down on the floor. A moment later, her bones cracked. Another moment, and a tiny white wolf pup lay curled up on the floor. Even with her released inhibitions and her more bestial state, one thought ran clear through Hope’s mind. ‘Oh fuck right off.’  Her amber eyes closed with the closest thing a wolf could do to a pout across her snout. Pushing past even her wolf form being a pup, she carefully wove the necessary magic, something far harder to do as a wolf. A few seconds later, her eyes glowed, and Hope’s mind was connected to another's. 

There was a flash of light, and when she opened her eyes, she was in a field of flowers. Hope sneezed, and a light laugh burst out from in front of her. She looked up, and her eyes softened. ‘Hey, Mom.’ She was just as Hope remembered her, tall, to Hope at least, beautiful, with brown hair, and beautiful hazel green eyes.

It was just a dream, something Hope knew her mom wouldn’t remember. But it was also the closest she’d been to her in years. Hope barked, tail wagging. “Aren’t you just the cutest littlest wolf ever? I gotta say, you might be the best dream I’ve ever had.” Hope grinned and launched herself forward, slobbering all over. 

A few minutes later, a fully grown wolf—light brown with shades of grey—and a white pup were running through the forest. It was the best sleep Hope had gotten since Landon, and she officially broke up.

A week passed.

Hope knew that reviving Kol from scratch would be frustrating, but a week of basically no progress was still incredibly annoying. At this point, she was tempted to say fuck it and just throw her magic into the void, and hope it worked.

But, with a bit more time and her nightly dream sessions, she knew it was just a reaction of her enhanced emotions combined with being in a body that got distracted by anything shiny. Still, it was frustrating. And with her attempts to make various protective pieces of jewelry and amulets to deal with Silas, Hope had honestly nearly forgotten about going back to see Davina or dealing with the witches and their ancestors.

‘I suppose a break wouldn’t hurt.’ Besides, she was basically ready to head out toward Mystic Falls, and Hope knew she should see Davina at least once more. ‘The witches can wait a bit longer.’ Once she had dealt with Silas, Hope would have enough time to figure out how she wanted to ensure her mom’s safety while still letting the witches think they had her and her dad under control.

She had an idea, but Hope needed to get some… supplies from Mystic Falls first. If the world had decided to favor her for the first time, Katherine would even be there. Having some doppleganger blood would probably make something easier, probably. Also, it would give Hope a chance to ‘convince’ her to come to New Orleans, where she could study the cure and how to neutralize it.

Getting dressed for the day, Hope pulled out a notebook that she bought with very illegally obtained money, and chuckled as she saw the name on its front. ‘How to actually witch 101. PS: Your coven sucks at magic.’ She flipped to near the halfway point and started writing. 

It would be good to teach someone technically younger than her how to properly use magic for once. As much as she loved the Salvatore school, certain rules truly hindered witches. The fact that there had to be a revolution to get even basic offensive magic taught spoke volumes. ‘Honestly, the French Quarter witches aren’t better.’ There was a reason that Marcel, a vampire not even half a millennium old, could take it over, even before he had Davina.

Besides, the simple fact was that all of the New Orleans witches relied far too much on their ancestors for their reputation. Honestly, Hope doubted that more than a handful in the entire city knew even the basics of truly powerful witchcraft. Then again, Hope had been taught at the hands of a firstborn Mikaelson and a thousand-year-old magic fanatic. Then she had fought literal demons, angels, dragons, spirits of nature, and so much more in a hell dimension. Her standards were a bit high for even the basics. 

After an hour or so of work, Hope closed the notebook and stood up. Holding the newly made grimoire tightly to her chest, she walked out of her room, locking it behind her. ‘Well then, Davina, hopefully you’re willing to take my help.’

Honestly, if she couldn’t revive Kol in time, Hope didn’t know if she could save Davina. But, even if she couldn’t, what she taught her would hopefully help protect her from the ancestors and other witches in the future. At least, that was what Hope, well, hoped.

Knocking on the attic door once more, Hope patiently waited. When it finally opened, she brightly smiled. “Hi!”

“I didn’t think you’d actually come back.”

At Davina’s words, Hope frowned, not realizing how cute it looked on her. “Of course I would! I told you, from one sacrificial lamb to another, girl power, and all that jazz!”

A small smile crept onto Davina’s face, and she stepped aside out of the doorway. Hope stepped inside, not seeing the baffled look that spread across Davina’s face behind her, but she did hear the shocked, “How?”

Hope turned around, confused. “What?”

“I didn’t invite you in. Marcel got the attic in my name after your visit…” As Davina’s hesitant explanation trailed off near the end, it was Hope’s turn to be shocked. ‘That doesn’t… What? Huh?’ 

But she couldn’t let any of that confusion show on her face, so Hope just grinned. “I’m special! Don’t worry about it.” Hope had no idea what the fuck was going on, because she certainly was a vampire, and there was no way she could enter a home without an invitation. Marcel might have fucked up somehow, but he had likely already gotten an invitation inside if Davina was so certain.

Considering her father needed an invitation, it probably wasn’t a Tribrid thing, which left… nothing? ‘I always have to be the unique one, don’t I?’ Still, Hope could contemplate it later, preferably when she returned to her proper age and could drown herself in booze.

There were certain implications about not needing an invitation that Hope desperately needed not to contemplate until she was more stable. She knew very well her hero complex and martyrdom issue was already large enough.

“Now then, I come with gifts!” She held out the grimoire disguised as a cheap one-dollar notebook. “I figured you’ve never been properly taught how to control your power, let alone now that you’re a Harvest Girl. This has an assortment of spells, rituals, and general knowledge you could need. I also left a few ways for you to better understand your connection with nature and how it’s different now that you’ve become a witch with some real power. I even did you the favor of adding a proper telekinesis spell and more efficient versions of your protections.” 

Davina took the book and stared at Hope before her shy smile returned, yet now with hesitation laced through it. “Thank you. But… Marcel told me about you. You’re a Mikaelson, so what do you want?”

Hope returned her stare, but unlike Davina, her smile wasn’t shy—just sad. “Davina Claire. You have nothing I need. I could say something grand like…” She waved her hand, and the cloth covering Elijah’s coffin was ripped off. “Wanting Elijah back. But in truth, I have no intention of asking you for him.” Seeing Davina now wary, Hope sighed. “Do you know Marcel’s connection with the Mikaelson family?”

“Klaus sired him and taught him everything about being a vampire.” Hope snorted, walked over to the room’s only chair, and sat down.

“That’s like saying witchcraft can grow flowers. Sure, it’s the truth, but it’s so far from the whole story it might as well be a lie.” Hope looked toward the bed. “It’s a long story, but I hope that if you’re willing to hear me out, by the end of it, you’ll understand why I have no intention of hurting you and Marcel. Why Niklaus willingly gave Elijah over to Marcel, and why, even though Marcel doesn’t give him his due respect, he doesn’t just kill him like he would any other vampire.”

Hope knew that she should leave this story for Marcel to tell. But she also knew her family sucked at telling the truth, let alone telling history in a way that didn’t paint them in the harshest angles possible. Hope had learned from a young age that every Mikaelson was a masochist, no matter how her older-than-dirt family denied it. When Davina sat on her bed and rested the grimoire on her lap in a silent agreement to hear her out, Hope began.

“Marcel and our family’s story begins in the year 1820, mere days after Niklaus killed Rebekah’s latest love.” Hope paused, contemplating telling a secret her Aunt Rebekah had sworn her to secrecy over… before speaking it aloud. “It was also forty-four years since the death of the only wife any of our family had taken in the past millennium. The first addition to the Mikaelsons was gone, completely snuffed out to the point that even though she was Regent, she couldn’t even reside in the Ancestral plane.” Hope wrily smiled as Davina gasped. Learning about that bit of family trivia after her father’s death had been interesting to say the least, and did a damn good job explaining why she had been so willingly accepted as a New Orleans witch by the ancestors.

“When he saw Marcel, the black bastard son of the governor, being whipped and not crying out, but actually fighting back? He knew then, he had met a truly kindred spirit for the first time in his life. Oppressed, hated for something he couldn’t control, and yet with a warrior’s spirit. Even better, somehow, someway, in the years to come, he would grow even prouder. Even if Niklaus would never say it, all because Marcel wouldn’t let that hatred turn into a festering, poisonous rot. Mere forty-four years after his wife died, he had found the one thing he had never had. A son, and Marcel found the one thing he never truly had, a father.”

So Hope told the true story, hidden behind dirty secret after dirty secret, hidden behind forgotten memories, and things left better in the past. It was a risky gamble, but Hope hated lying, and so it was the only play she had in order to truly get Davina to see the truth, to get her to understand Hope would never hurt her or Marcel. It was the only way—besides sharing her own memories, and the real connection between them all, that is.

An hour later, when Hope stared into Davina’s eyes, blown wide and watering, she knew it had worked. Hope stood up. “I think I’ll give you time to think about this, and read through that grimoire.” 

“Wait! Can you… Can you come again in a few days?” Hope grinned happily but shook her head no.

“I’m leaving New Orleans for a little bit tomorrow, but I promise I’ll see you again when I’m back, alright?” Davina looked down and bit her lip before nodding. Hope’s heart practically exploded. She was just so innocent. ‘I hope I can protect you this time around, Davina.’ 

“Okay.” At her words, Hope jolted out of her thoughts and, with a grin, disappeared, the window shuddering closed behind her. ‘That went far better than I ever could have expected.’

“You shouldn’t be drinking that.” In response, Hope loudly and obnoxiously slurped at her cup of coffee, then turned to Marcel. He rolled his eyes and sat on the stool next to her. “D told me you’re leaving today. Not even gonna say goodbye?” 

Hope delicately set the cup down and smiled at him. “I’ll only be gone for a few weeks at most. I’m afraid Niklaus, Elijah, and Rebekah have had quite a lapse of judgment. You see, they’ve managed to leave Kol and Finn’s killers alive. Now, I must admit it was probably mercy for Finn, but Kol’s death wiped out nearly a hundred thousand vampires. While Elijah and Klaus’s lines are even larger, such an atrocity…” Hope trailed off, eyes distant, but she noted Marcel grimace as she pointed out the number. It wasn’t even an act on her part, either. She couldn’t imagine willingly killing that many people. All of that just for a map to what was maybe a cure, but which certainly led to the most dreaded immortal in history. 

Of course, Hope had no plans to actually decimate the people of Mystic Falls, but it was a convenient cover story, to say the least. “To be honest, I didn’t know it was that many. I heard whispers, of course; everyone did.” Hope nodded and picked up her coffee for another sip.

“The only reason the entire supernatural world wasn’t exposed was because of the work of organizations around the world dedicated to keeping the supernatural hidden, on top of copious amounts of magic and compulsion. Of course, what I said before was a good reason for why I’m leaving, but I’m sure you know my real one, Marcel.”

There was a heavy look in his eyes as he said, “Always and Forever.” Hope tilted her head in agreement and drained the rest of her coffee.

“A vow my family has seemingly forgotten.” A hint of rage crept into Hope’s voice, and Marcel leaned on the diner’s countertop, a hint of nervousness he couldn’t quite contain.

“Finn and Kol were always the outcasts, as far as I know.” It was almost as funny, in a sad way, how badly he misinterpreted her, and so a giggle escaped Hope.

“Yes, I do believe they have failed them. But I was also talking about you and your ward.” Hope ignored the look on his face, having known exactly what her words would do, and tapped a finger on her empty plate, the crumbs magically reassembled into a phone number. “If you ever need someone to talk to, that’s the number for my phone from the store I robbed.” With that, she stood up. “I’ll see you soon, Marcel.” Hope turned to leave.

“Wait!” She paused, tilting her head curiously. “I don’t know why you don’t want them knowing you exist, but I’ll keep you a secret.” Hope looked back at him, a smile on her face.

“I never doubted you would, Marcel.” She walked toward the door, hand raised in goodbye. “Oh, pay for me, will you? I have exactly zero dollars to my name, and it’s a bit unfair to always compel the humans.” The door closed behind her. ‘Mystic Falls, here I come.’ Of course, she had stretched the truth a bit in her conversation with Marcel.

There should be no reason for Hope’s trip to take longer than a week. Sure, it was an over-thirteen-hour drive. But she was the Tribrid. All it would take was an invisibility spell and a shift into her wolf form, and the nine-hundred-mile journey would be a breeze. Now, she wouldn’t do that because arriving at Mystic Falls naked would raise questions. But still.

On the other hand, if something went horrifically wrong, she could end up at the bottom of an ocean, but Hope truly doubted that. No, the reason her trip was going to take so long was that she needed the time to decompress and also hunt around for a few specific objects she’d eventually need. Also, there’s no way in hell she wanted to actually run across multiple states when it wasn’t an emergency. She had stubby, very short legs—plus she had just bought a copious amount of very cute dresses and outfits, and she wasn’t about to ruin them.

Four hours later, in the middle of bumfuck nowhere on an empty, horrible-smelling bus, Hope realized her plan might have slightly derailed. Her head slammed into the back of her seat out of sheer stress of the situation. Because this was insane, she had only just left New Orleans, surely this couldn’t be happening already! “Please tell me a bus spirit isn’t about to eat me.”

At her words, the bus driver's head unnaturally turned a full one hundred and eighty degrees and stared at her with pure purple eyes. “You know, this is just my luck. Malivore shouldn’t even be active, so it seems my luck is horrible enough that I ran into you. Do you know how insane it is that even without a pit of doom sending things after me, I still run into you?” The bus driver's neck snapped as he tilted his head, a confused, yet vaguely terrified look on his melting face.

Hope stared back at him. Her mouth opened, closed, then opened again before she let out a pitiful moan. “I refuse to believe you’re actually confused.” The bus driver nodded, which was accompanied by another snap. “Are you really, actually just gonna drive me to Mystic Falls?” He nodded again.

Hope stared at the roof and briefly pondered how the world had turned more insane than her before she just raised her hands in the universal sign of ‘fuck it’. “Well, who am I to judge your hobbies? I’ve seen nice monsters who didn’t want to fight, evil monsters, nonsentient ones, and everything in between… But apparently, a pacifistic undead bus driver is what makes me truly feel insane and breaks me. Great.” The bus driver's head swiveled back to the road as he nervously scratched at his neck, bones rattling beneath rotten, gooey flesh. “Oh fuck, and now I’m the one scaring you.”

He made a wheezing, rattling noise, and yet somehow Hope knew it was him trying to comfort her. She closed her eyes in sheer, utter agony. 

Three hours later, when she stepped off the bus at Mystic Falls, which was a remarkable time, really–Hope froze when the bus drove off, and she finally saw the name branded on the side. Chronos Express

She groaned. “I really hope this isn’t an indication that any of the other gods remember.” Hope would like to have a couple of decades before dealing with the future visions Mother Nature gave her, thank you very much. She very much didn’t want to be fighting literal gods while stuck in the body of a child. Besides how embarrassing that would be, she was slower and weaker. Her arms and legs couldn’t get as much momentum, and Hope needed to take a couple of steps to make up for a single stride compared to before. ‘It’s nothing I should worry about for now, at least. If it happens, it happens.’ 

She already had enough on her plate, and Hope certainly wasn’t going to overfill it if she didn’t have to. ‘Now then, if I were an ancient immortal with a hunger for the cure, but was also cosplaying as Stefan Salvatore, where would I be?’ 

Well, the answer was kind of obvious. Where everyone, no matter the decade. He’d be at the grill. Okay, so the reasoning— Hope could admit to herself—was a lie. She really just wanted a proper milkshake before walking into the place that had been her home for a decade. ‘It’s definitely not because I want to daydream about every moment with Landon there. Nope. Nada. I’m a strong, independent, all-powerful eight-year-old. I don’t need the man who crushed my heart, even if he’s my best friend and love of my life. I definitely don’t miss all my friends either. I’m totally not going to paint really sad portraits of them all when I have time.’ 

Who was she kidding? Hope still had two months on her timetable til Silas died, and she had practically rushed back to Mystic Falls. ‘‘Just this once, I’ll see Mystic Falls. Just once. Then I’ll go back to New Orleans. I’ll leave after I desiccate Silas. I won’t stay longer than that.’ 

Hope knew that was probably a lie, but it would keep her going. Lying to herself was different then others after all.

Chapter Text

Sipping her shake, Hope was happily absorbed in her own little world, fully content to relax for the first time since coming back. She had her favorite drink and was blissed out, remembering all the good memories associated with it. Really, nothing could ruin it.

Except for a member of the Five sitting on a nearby bench and staring at her while very inconspicuously looking like he was listening to someone that wasn’t there. Except she was there, because Hope could very clearly see Bonnie Bennett. Which should be impossible, because she was dead. That could ruin it. Hope groaned, and before he could react, she was sitting next to him, her legs aimlessly swinging. “Hi! You must be Bonnie and Jeremy.”

“You can see me?”

“You can see her?”

“Yup, and I’m Hope, hi!” She obnoxiously sucked on the straw of her Peanut Butter Blast, happy that for once her order was followed, and the whipped cream was on the bottom like it was meant to be. Heathens, the entirety of New Orleans, really. She didn’t say anything else because they hadn’t said hello back. She was petty like that. ‘Apparently.’ 

The two looked at each other, and Hope rolled her eyes. “You’re supposed to say hi back. But whatever. This is the part where you wonder if I’m the newest big—” Her nose wrinkled, “small bad evil girl, and this is the part where I explain to you, Jeremy, that because you told no one Bonnie was dead, Silas is free.” 

“He’s what? That’s not possible, Bonnie turned him to stone!” Unlike Jeremy’s outburst, Bonnie froze before shaking her head in a panic.

“She’s right. The spell would have broken when I died.” Hope sucked on her shake again obnoxiously, “which you aren’t bothered at all about.” At Bonnie’s realization, Hope set her milkshake down onto the bench and stood up. Not that it changed her elevation at all, but still!

“Yup! I don’t fear him. His little mind tricks don’t work on me.” Well, specifically, they didn’t work because of the jewelry she had made, but semantics. “But really, I just need to find Stefan Salvatore, and then I can leave this town. No threats, no me killing your friends, I’ll even do you a favor and not even snack on any necks. So, where is he?” They shared a look, and Hope instantly had a feeling she wasn’t going to like the answer.

She didn’t. “He’s gone, and has been since graduation. He hasn’t answered any of Elena's or Damon’s calls either.” 

Murder. So much fucking murder. So much horrific, diabolical, monstrously grotesque murder. That had to be the only solution. Hope took a deep, calming breath and picked up her milkshake. 

“I see. I suppose you’re also going to tell me you don’t realize that by killing Kol and Finn Mikaelson you’ve caused the deaths of over one hundred thousand vampires, most of which had families or friends, and caused billions of dollars in damages for organizations around the world who had to contain that, on top of hundreds of additional witches and vampires dying to contain the secret?” Hope obnoxiously slurped as she saw both of their souls leave their eyes, and horror dawning. God, that felt fucking good.

She disappeared, moving at a speed too fast for even hunter senses to follow. 

Yet Hope Mikaelson's words didn’t disappear; such things couldn’t be taken back. Jeremy’s hands shook as he stared at the ground. “Jeremy?”

“Do you really think I killed that many people?”

“I… I don’t know. She could have been messing with us, but I’ve never sensed power like that. I—she might be telling the truth.” Jeremy buried his head in his hands.

A few minutes later, casually walking through the forest toward the Salvatore Manor, Hope felt mildly bad. Because, really, that was quite a cruel thing to say, all because she had gotten pissed off and she didn’t want to be that kind of person. Then again, Jeremy Gilbert had killed her favorite currently unliving uncle, so just telling him the truth of his actions didn’t make her feel that bad.

Also, kids could be just plain cruel. Hope sighed, disgust at her childlike body welling up once more. Taking one last slurp, She took one last slurp, chucked her cup into the air, and with a thought, turned it to dust. Deep in contemplation and self-hatred, Hope didn’t even realize how close she was, until even in her distracted state, the sound of wet flesh slapping against each other pierced through her thoughts.

She gagged. “HEY! Children with really sensitive ears out here!” By everything that was holy, Hope did not want to her Lizzie and Josie’s uncle and aunt fucking in the bath. Because yes, that was one hundred percent water splashing as they froze after her scream. ‘Can this day get any worse?’ 

By the time Hope got to the front door, she heard footsteps rushing down the stairs inside. Without a thought, she opened up the door and stepped inside, not even contemplating whether it was owned by a human or not.

“Hi!” Hope beamed at the two halfway down the stairs—Damon Salvatore and his stupidly good jawline, and Elena Gilbert, the doppleganger and currently a vampire. 

She had to hold back a little dance at how Elena awkwardly said, “Hi?” Back. Because someone with actual manners! Really.

“You know, Jeremy was far less nice. He never said hi to me.” Hope pouted, not even blinking when Damon sped in front of her, hand reaching for her throat.

“What did you do to—”

“Damon, stop, she’s just a—”

Hope grabbed his wrist; her body shifted—knees bending slightly—and in the same motion, her hips jerked. “ —kid. Oh God, Damon!” As Elena sped over to Damon to help him up, Hope just took a few steps more in and looked this way and that. ‘That attempt was almost as bad as this decor.’ As the honest person she was, Hope said that out loud.

“I really don’t like the decor. You should remodel and go back to remedial fight training.” Was she being a bit petty because it looked nothing like her home? Yes. Hope shrugged to herself and looked back to face them. “I did nothing to Jeremy, by the way. We just talked. I said I was sorry for ruining his date with his dead girlfriend, and left him.”

“Bonnie’s not dead!” At Elena’s outburst, Damon didn’t say anything, but Hope caught the way his eyes narrowed.

“I mean, you can believe what you want. Real weird if you haven’t heard her voice or seen pictures of her. On what, a vacation?” 

Elena’s eyes widened, and Damon instantly placed an arm around her shoulder while still glaring at Hope. “Sorry, I just thought we should start this off with me being honest.” She flounced over to the left and plopped down on a couch. “So, should we talk about how, because Bonnie is dead, that means the spell on Silas is gone, and because Bonnie died the night of graduation… that means it’s not Silas who was thrown into the quarry?” 

Hope grinned as Damon cursed, and Elena’s breath hitched. “Don’t worry! I’m here to solve all your woes. You can save the ripper, and as long as you agree to one tiny little thing, I can solve your Silas problem too.”

“Elena, go check on Jeremy. I’ll deal with it.” As he said that, Damon walked over and poured himself a glass of whatever. Really, Hope was not at all knowledgeable about alcohol, and stared her down while Elena, by the stairs, was silent for a few seconds, before disappearing. “What is it you want then?”

“Simple, I make you immune to Silas’s mind control, and for free, I’ll even throw in a little secret or two about dopplegangers that you’re really going to want to know. Particularly about the fact that Elena is going to be hunted very soon because of it. In exchange, when you see Katherine Pierce, you snap her neck and burn her body. No questions asked, no second thoughts. No conversation. You don’t torture her, play around, or any of that nonsense. She’s dead. Then, promise that no matter what, you will never go to Nova Scotia again or help someone go to Nova Scotia. That’s all I want in return.”

Damon stared, hand clenched tightly around the glass, but looked towards the door and finally sighed. “I’m getting real sick of hearing about doppelgangers. At this point, I might even have to learn how to spell it.”

Hope laughed and stood up, a hand outstretched. “Do we have a deal, Damon Salvatore?” He drained his glass, placed it on the table, and sauntered over. His hand clasped hers, which had Hope wanting to pout about how incredibly awkward it was because of the height difference.

“I don’t know your name, but we have a deal.” Hope smiled as she enacted her magic upon him, binding him to his words, and took a bit of pleasure in how his teeth gritted in pain. Really, it was the least she could do. Why Caroline hadn’t ripped his heart out was beyond her, because context clues from Stefan’s journals painted a really bad picture. “Fucking magic, of course.” 

“I wasn’t just going to trust a Salvatore brother. You two are notorious for breaking your deals. As for my name, it’s Hope. You’ve met my family before.” His eyes widened as realization struck. “When the summer is over, and you see Rebekah, please be a dear and tell her it’s time to come home. No need to interrupt her summer of fun with, what’s his name? Little human and very fragile Matt?” In a blur, she kicked out his leg, and when he came crumpling to the ground, snapped his neck.

“Really, Damon. You see a child vampire walking around in the sunlight, without a care in the world, and you don’t think Mikaelson? Who else would flagrantly break the one rule every vampire upholds?” Shaking her head, Hope pulled off a ring and gently placed it onto his pinky finger. After doing that, she grabbed the bottle that Damon had poured from and nodded. ‘Bourbon. Okay.’ God, she was such a goodie-two-shoes sometimes. Then again, it was easier to hide weed than alcohol with magic.

Hope left the mansion, set on dealing with only a couple more things in Mystic Falls before leaving. ‘No wonder my family hates this place. Every plan goes to shit here.’ In hindsight, that kind of explained most of her troubles. The Salvatore Boarding School was, in fact, located in Mystic Falls. If everything went to shit here, well. ‘Really, Dr. Saltzman should have known better. Now then, next stop… Caroline.’ 

Arriving at the Forbes house after a few minor uses of compulsion to actually find it, Hope knocked. She could hear movement on the inside, and a couple of seconds later, the door opened, and Hope beamed, wide and happy, at seeing Caroline. She was as young as ever, as beautiful as ever, with long blonde hair and sparkling blue eyes. Not to mention, she almost instantly had a small, kind smile on her face. “Oh! Hello there, how can I help you, sweetie?”

Hope melted, like she always did in the face of Caroline Forbes. Then again, that was mostly because when she was like, nine, her dad—over a phone call, before he stopped accepting those—had once promised her, after a particularly bad nightmare, that Caroline would protect her because the blonde was her future stepmom.

But like, still. “Hi! I just came to give you this.” Hope held up a pink and glitter-covered letter, the seal side still facing her so Caroline couldn’t see it.

“Oh? What’s this for, sweetie?” As she asked, Caroline took it, and when she turned it around, she promptly froze at the wax seal with a heavily stylized M in the middle. 

“Bye!” Hope disappeared. ‘Being the fastest person alive is really great in moments like this. If you ignore the constant hunger and need to kill things.’ 

Her last stop didn’t have anyone, because they were dead. Staring down at the grave of Alaric Saltzman, Hope knelt and placed flowers next to his tombstone. 

“I know I don’t know you in this time, but going so long without being able to get your advice is so weird. I’ve hated you, I’ve loved you. I thought of you as a teacher, a mentor, a father figure, the person chaining me down, an enemy, and so much more. I remember when we snuck out to get ice cream and see an art exhibit as ‘punishment’ after I acted like a dumb kid, or when you awkwardly tried to explain to me my period. But right now, I really fucking miss you and your stupid overconfidence.” Hope chugged straight from the bottle, nose wrinkling in disgust as she did so.

“I hate how I know you and Damon share the same favorite drinks, and this is absolutely disgusting.” She weakly laughed. “I miss them too, you know? My squad. It wasn’t like back when I really, actually had my family, but it was something. I could open up a little, laugh, and care for people not from a distance.” Hope took another swig.

“But I can’t do that anymore. Because now I’m stuck here, having to fix everything so that no one else has to experience what I did. And that was only possible because your stupid kid, Elena, and her friends fucked up so badly they basically caused the start of the end of the world in, like, a century and a half. Which I’ve hopefully averted by the way.”

Hope groaned. “Yet here I am talking to a grave that totally has the wrong birthdate on it, instead of going and trying to save my family or the world. Here I am in Mystic Falls, when I should have known Silas wouldn’t be here. But I came anyway, because I love our school, because it was my home, and I needed to see that it wasn’t there. I needed to see that my friends, you, and everyone else wasn’t here. That this wasn’t all some fucked up dream right before I killed Landon. Who I love with all my heart, by the way. But because I have too much of a martyr complex, I told him to keep dating my best friend when they finally got their memories of me back.

“Even though he was clearly going to do the complete opposite!” Hope snarled, the bottle shattering against a tree. “It’s just all so fucked up, and here I am permanently stuck in a child’s body! Sure, I’m not that much older than I appear, but still. I’ll never have real love! I’ll never have children, a family of my own. Everyone I meet will always outgrow me. Everyone’s always just going to see me as a kid, and eventually, I will just be a kid. My mind will devolve, and I’ll be stuck like that for eternity until someone finally finds a way to put me down. Because you don’t make child vampires! Except they can’t kill me, because I’m pretty sure if I just think hard enough, I could wipe out this entire country! 

“And so all I can do is try my best to make everyone else happy until I get dropped to the bottom of the ocean, because that’s what I always fucking do! Because I can’t have happiness—everyone I try to get close to dies, or I end up hurting or killing myself really badly for them!” 

Hope crumbled to her knees. “I’m—I’m just so tired, Dr. Saltzman. Do you know how badly it hurt to hear my dad’s voice on the wind for the first time, and know that if I appeared in front of him, he’d just try to kill me? Or how much it kills me that all I can do is slip into my mom's dreams? How my Aunt Freya is in a coffin, and I can’t do anything. After all, I can’t risk my own fucking birth being erased, because I don’t want to hurt that innocent, sweet baby girl my family will grow to love so much. Even if she—if I was their ruin.”

Hope stopped talking, completely and utterly exhausted. Then out of nowhere, she shivered as a cold wind blew past her. She stood up. 

“But I guess I’m going to do what I always do, and be the hero that saves everyone. Maybe this time I’ll actually get peace from it. That’d be nice. I’ve seen it once or twice you know, peace? It’s really beautiful.” Hope had a small, distant smile on her face as she remembered just the glimpses of it she had seen.

With a deep breath, she continued. “You know, before I fully transitioned, I had a choice. I could have gone to peace, but I had to choose to be the hero. I had to choose saving my friends and the world over the one person I wanted to be with. I had to be Hope Mikaelson, the brave hero, instead of ever seeing my mom and dad again.” 

With a wave of her hand, the birthdate on the gravestone changed, and she walked off. She didn’t see how a lone ghost sat next to her, or had tried to place a hand on her shoulder.

Two weeks later. New Orleans

“You know, I’m all for you deciding to be a goth girl. But it’s kind of creepy that you still have a thousand-year-old vampire in a coffin in your bedroom,” Hope said, sitting on top of that same coffin, her feet tapping lightly against the side as her legs swung.

Davina looked up at Hope from her bed, swallowed the bit of beignet in her mouth, and wrinkled her nose. “I’m not goth. Marcel just has nowhere safer to keep him.”

“It’s totalllly not because he wants you to figure out how to kill an Original, right?” Davina looked back down, and Hope snickered. “Don’t worry, I don’t care. You and Marcel get a few obligatory attempts.” Davina was family; she deserved at least a few shots before Hope put the whole thing to bed. It was only fair she got to catch up, after all.

“Wait, you don’t care?” Davina’s head snapped up again, eyes blown wide in utter confusion. Hope shrugged.

“The way I see it, Marcel is family. If you think about him like family, or he thinks about you like family, that means you get family privileges. Recreational murder attempts are within those privileges.” The fact that even a Harvest Girl didn’t have enough power to kill an Original was besides the point. Well—she didn’t without Hope’s help at least.

“Wow, that’s really fucked up. Which one of us is the goth again?” Even though her words were cutting, a small smile tugged at Davina’s lips.

“Trust me, child goth does not work.” Hope patted the coffin and jumped off it. “Speaking of things not working, would you like an art lesson?”

“You pai—hey! You try learning in an attic all by yourself, seeing the same things every day!”

With a flick of Hope’s wrist, a journal appeared. “Well, I guess it’s a good thing I have the next installment of the basics of being a powerful witch, huh? Has a nifty little astral projection spell. I made it when I was like, ten, you should be good enough to cast it.” Hope’s smirk vanished when Davina patted her on the head and took the book. She snarled at the satisfied look Davina gave her in return. “I’m older than you, Davina Claire! Don’t headpat me like a small child.” The look didn’t go away, and so all Hope could do was grumble to herself.

“Whatever, do you want that lesson or not?” Davina’s face straightened, and she nodded eagerly.

“Yes, please! Marcel says they’re good, but I’m sixteen, not stupid.” Hope bit her lip to hold back from laughing, remembering when she had said that same line directly to his face, just significantly younger.

“Alright then.” Another flick of her wrist, and a paintbrush was in Hope’s hand, specifically the one she had stolen from Davina. “Be warned, I’ve never taught anyone before.”

“Is that my paintbrush?”

“...No?”

“She is very pretty, Marcel.” At Hope’s words, he paused mid-sip and raised an eyebrow. “Camille, that’s her name, right?”

Marcel warily looked at her before begrudgingly nodding. “It is, and she’s off limits.” Hope raised her hands in surrender.

“Alright, alright. I’m sure your interest in her has nothing to do with the fact that she’s a certain someone's niece.” 

He sent her a withering glare. “It doesn’t. Just like it doesn’t have anything to do with Rebekah, which was going to be your next comment.” Hope smiled innocently and took a sip of her delightfully sweet strawberry lemonade.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Marcel. Just casually observing while stopping by to let you know I’m back in town.”

He tilted his glass. “I thank you for that. Unlike others, you seem to actually respect our rules. Except for one.” She shrugged at the almost bitter, tacked-on comment. The other rules basically boiled down to don’t be stupid or a raging psychopath, but there was no way she’d stop practicing magic.  

“If you’d like me to stop, you can always have Madame LaRue beg the ancestors to attempt to stop me… From doing magic. Or try to fight me.” Marcel snorted, making it clear how he thought about that idea. “Of course, I suppose I could cut down on my magic use in the quarter for a small favor.”

Marcel stared at her for a second before he drained his glass with a sigh. “I figured it was coming eventually. What do you want?” 

Hope coyly batted her lashes, momentarily forgetting she was eight again. “I just want poor dear Finn and Kol’s ashes to put them to rest. I know Klaus has them, but I’ve not yet been able to find them.”

He looked at her like she was categorically insane. “How exactly am I supposed to get something even you can’t get?” Hope grinned, and it was one part insane but also one part annoyed because her original plan hadn’t worked. That bitch Inadu at least had Davina’s soul in the ancestral plane while she had nothing to work with. From her current tests, Hope would basically have to split the Other Side in half to revive Kol from nothing, especially when Esther wanted him dead for now.

“He knows you have a secret weapon, and he’s smart enough to realize that anything stopping the witches would be another witch. Promise you’ll have her do a delinking spell, which will take some time, of course. You don’t need to know the why, but he’ll eventually accept.”

His jaw twitched, and Hope could see the thoughts running through his head, and she knew that he realized that said delinking spell was probably why her dad was still here and doing nothing. “I want something else.” At her small nod, he grimaced, like he really didn’t want to ask but had to anyway. “Everything you know about the Harvest Ritual, and how to stop it.” 

Hope raised her glass in a toast. “I do believe we have a deal, Marcel. It’s so wonderful when a family dinner ends without bloodshed, don’t you think?” He grimaced, but raised his empty glass anyway. “Good luck with him. I have a feeling he’s probably in a pretty annoyed mood, considering I stole the rest of those delightful daggers.”

Hope disappeared as a look of begrudging respect mixed with annoyance crossed Marcel’s face. God, fucking with him felt good. Served him right. ‘Now let’s see if his prodding can get dear old Dad to move the ashes enough for me to find them.’ 

Of course, the fact that she had cast a revival spell on him in the event her Dad went insane didn’t need to be said. No matter how much Hope was using and playing her family currently, she wasn’t going to risk Marcel’s or anyone else's death. Especially on what was admittedly a long shot.

“Hello~” Plopping herself into the rocking chair, Hope had a wide, innocent smile on her face as Josaphine LaRue slowly opened her eyes, her lips stretching thin.

“It’s quite rude to enter someone's home uninvited, child.” She paused, and her aged lips curled marginally upward. “But impressive that you did so nonetheless.” Hope kept up her wide smile, glad to know that her cloaking spells had held, even under the gaze of the Regent of New Orleans, who had reigned for decades and was a certified seer. 

“I know, but it was really important, and no one would have let me see you! It’s like superrr-duper important.”

“Then in that case, I just have to hear it out. But first—cookies?” ‘Oooooh!’ Madame LaRue stood up, clearly already knowing the answer. This time, Hope didn’t even try to blame her childlike body. She just had a massive sweet tooth.

“Of course! Dad always told me plotting the downfall of your enemies should be done after dessert.” With those words, Hope pushed herself off the rocking chair and pouted when Madame LaRue let out an elegant but small laugh.

“I take it you are a Treme witch then, child?” Hope shook her head.

“I was born in the French Quarter, but my dad never remarried, or married my mom after his first wife died, so I’m technically the only living witch of my coven.” 

There was a hint of sadness in Madame LaRue’s voice as they reached the kitchen. “A Voodoo Queen then, if I had realized any of you were still alive…” She trailed off and shook her head. “Nevertheless, in that case, I’m glad you’re here.” It was the wrong answer, but the one Hope expected her to find. After all, the real answer was far more insane. Ignoring the fact that she was the only living Mikaelson witch because sleeping for a century and then being awake for a year wasn’t living, there was another answer. Her step-mom’s coven, which didn’t exist anymore, and hadn’t for over two centuries.

But, it was for the best if no one realized that she technically had the strongest claim to the regency upon Madame LaRue’s inevitable death or retirement, considering her step-mom and step-aunt were former regents. ‘Shit, I totally have to figure out what happened to her spirit, don’t I?’ Considering she hadn’t even heard about the woman until after her father’s death, it could only mean bad things.

“It’s alright! I had my dad and mom for a while, and Marcel won’t hurt me.” Not that he even could, but still.

The elderly woman's lips dipped slightly, even as she opened up one of the circular tins of old people cookies. “Yes, Marcel Gerard does have a penchant for helping witch children.” When she held out a cookie, Hope eagerly took it.

“I mean, they kinda had it coming when they decided not to tell any of the harvest girls what was happening, and that they’d be slitting their throats.” A regular child wouldn’t have seen Josephine LaRue, regent for decades and politician for just as long, pause and absorb that information. They wouldn’t see how a single brow slightly twitched, or how the magic in the room just barely shifted. Hope was no regular child. ‘Oh. That’s actually news?’ 

“I must admit you have given me quite a surprise. I did not realize they had failed to tell the Harvest Girls. That would explain some things.” It also explained some things on Hope’s end. Like why the other covens hadn’t attacked Marcel, or why Madame LaRue wasn’t filled up with enough ancestral magic to nuke the city.

“Yeah, they’re kinda not the smartest. Really, all they needed to do was a sleeping spell fueled by merlock orchid. They could’ve had the connection re-established and just would’ve had to do it once a generation instead of killing people every century or whatever.” Hope bit down on her cookie at the end of her tirade as a way to stifle her grin.

Madame LaRue’s eyes were not wide because that would be uncouth. But her lips did curl, and there was a sparkle to her aged eyes. “While you should have some respect for your elders, I do indeed believe you have solved a problem that centuries of witches couldn’t.” 

Hope swallowed her bite and then pouted. “It won’t save Davina from dying, though.”

The aged witch sighed. “No, but she will be revived, so don’t worry about it.” Hope shuffled her feet, making a show of being awkward, like a child about to tell their parent bad news.

“That’s why I’m here, actually.” A slight tilt of Madame LaRue’s head had Hope continuing. “Sabine Laurent is possessed by someone, and I think it’s Celeste Dubois.” 

“That should be quite impossible, considering she’d been dead for two centuries now.” At those words, Hope looked down at her feet.

 “Don’t be mad, but… I kind of talk to the dead sometimes, and she really isn’t.” ‘Which technically isn’t a lie, the best kind!’ Marcel counted as dead, and besides, just two weeks ago, Hope had talked to a grave! Also, if Hope really wanted to stretch it, one of the last people she had talked to before time reverted had been Ted. 

Yet Hope was snapped out of her thoughts, and her head shot up in shock as Madam LaRue said, “I said it should be quite impossible. Not that I didn’t believe you. But let me deal with that. It’s been so long since someone has stopped by my home unannounced. I’m afraid my manners have faded, whatever is your name, child?”

With her snout nestled into her mother’s lap, Hope was blissfully zoned out when her mom spoke for the first time in hours, a gentle human hand combing through her fur. “You know, I’m beginning to think these aren’t just dreams. Although they mostly fade, I still remember bits and pieces.” Hope’s amber eyes slowly opened, and she tilted her head. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you, pup?” 

Hope cutely barked and booped her in the belly. Her mom laughed. “I thought not.” ‘Oh, thank god. Crisis averted.’ Her tongue lolled out. “You’re such a cutie, you know?” She barked again. “You’re also really bad at lying. I’ve been a wolf since I was barely a teen.” ‘Fuck.’ 

Hope’s eyes widened, and she tried to cutely whine. “I know that trick, too.” With an annoyed huff, Hope stood up and took a step back, and in an instant, she was back in her glorious eight-year-old self—magically still clothed.

She crossed her arms with a pout on her lips, doing her best to look like an annoyed child. “You weren’t supposed to remember anything besides good dreams.” Her mom stood up and patted the grass off her legs.

“I didn’t at first, but eventually I started remembering bits and pieces.” ‘That makes no sense at all. That’s impossible.’ So Hope said it.

“That’s impossible, you shouldn’t remember a thing, a werewolf doesn’t have enough magic to fight the spell off.” The second Hope said it, she already knew the answer. Based on her mom subconsciously placing a hand over her stomach, she knew it too. Fuck, of course. ‘Only me. Only mini-me can protect mom from, well, me.’ For a brief moment, Hope was annoyed… at herself. ‘What even is my life?’ 

They stared at each other for a bit before Hope sighed. “It’s a modified Chambre de Chasse. It’s meant to drag people into a specially made spiritual plane made by a witch, usually to practice spells, or, well, to hunt and torture. Instead, I made it inside your mind so that you wouldn’t lose sleep.”

“That’s… surprisingly kind for a witch who just admitted she’s inside my mind.” At the surprise in her mom’s voice, Hope pouted again.

“I’m not just a witch. Us running together wasn’t an illusion.” She shuffled, suddenly shy. “I should have realized your baby would be able to help you through my spell.”

Her mom gasped. “You’re a werewitch? I didn’t even realize that was possible.” Hope nodded.

“It’s rare, but possible. But then again, if being born all three is possible, why shouldn’t a werewitch hybrid?” 

Her mom paused, before he gaze dropped to her stomach in shock. “Wait, are you saying that?” Oh… fuck. ‘Shit, shit. Did it again. Got the facts and timeline wrong, they don’t know yet!’ Hope, in the midst of her panic, tried her best to put on an innocent, yet confused face.

“You didn’t know? Not like it really matters.” 

Her mom grew pale and clutched at her stomach. “It matters a lot. If Klaus knew and didn’t tell me, that means…” ‘Damnit! Why can’t I ever do things right?’ 

“I should be the only one who knows, the only one who can tell at this stage.”

“No offense, but you’re only what, seven? If you can tell, then surely other witches could.” Her breath was speeding up, and well. Hope sighed. She couldn’t deal with her mom being panicked, or even worse, doing something she’d come to regret.

Hope’s eyes burned yellow as veins crawled from the dip in her nose to the bottom of her eyes. A twin set of fangs grew. “Only I can tell, because the baby in your stomach is like me. Hi, my name’s Hope Mikaelson, and I do believe you’re pregnant with my baby sister.”

Her mom froze. And Hope? Well, saying part of the truth kind of felt good, even though she was now going to have to make an entirely insane lie up on the spot. Because no one would believe she time-traveled from the future because mudmen and gods were real. At least, not at this point. “Soo… I think we should maybe talk?” 

“So let me get this straight. Klaus was married three hundred years ago to a werewitch hybrid.”

“Yup.”

“Because she was the hybrid that time around, she got pregnant, mystical shenanigans happened, no one knows, and when I got pregnant, you woke up?”

“Sounds close enough.”

“That’s insane.”

“But kinda cool?”

“Alright, it is kind of cool.”

Hope grinned, and her mom—who she would really think of as Hayley at least for now—weakly laughed. “This is crazy, kid.”

“But is it any crazier than my dad magically being able to have a baby with you after a one-night stand?”

Hayley sighed. “No, not really. I just don’t understand. Why would my pregnancy wake you up, and why would you seek me out instead of your actual father?” Instead of answering, Hope slipped her oversized shirt down her shoulder and turned around, revealing her birthmark. “Oh.”

Hope turned back around. “Because my dad might be my dad, but I also know he’s kind of a dick right now. He went a bit insane after you know, losing his wife. I’m pretty sure he’s pretty much completely repressed her. Which is also a total dick move. Whereas you and I? Well, besides being pregnant with what I’m positive is going to be the cutest baby ever, we’re pack.” The fact that she was also her mom was irrelevant! 

Tears welled up in Hayley’s eyes, and Hope immediately panicked. “Hey, hey! Don’t cry. Oh god, why are you crying?” In an instant, she was wrapped up in a hug, and Hope instinctively hugged back.

“I’ve never met anyone from my family before.” Wait, her mom hadn’t seen the Crescent Wo—oh god. Hope had completely forgotten they were cursed and that her step-dad was alive and currently forced to be a wolf every day except on the full moon. Shit.

“Well, now you have me, and I’m sure we can find the rest! Considering I’ve smelled no wolves in the city, something must have happened. Trust me, I’ll find them, okay?”

Hayley took a deep breath and a step back. “No, you’re just a kid, you shouldn’t have to—”

Hope raised a hand. “Bzzzt! I’m an Original Vampire, a Werewolf Alpha, and a Mikaelson witch. I can quite literally erase New Orleans with any of a hundred spells. Unlike the rest of my family, I’m not weak to white oak. I am quite literally an invincible, all-powerful being… who’s also permanently stuck at eight years old.” 

For a brief moment, there was a staring contest, but with a sigh, Hayley nodded. “Alright, but just be careful.”

Hope grinned. “Don’t worry, careful is practically my middle name. After danger magnet, chaos seeker, horrible planner, and… well, you get the point.” They laughed, and Hope felt something warm fill up inside of her. She had missed her mom. Had missed her best friend.

Hope paused for a second before hesitatingly asking, “Do you mind if I go back to wolf form now?” Because everything was so much easier, so much simpler as a wolf. She didn’t have to plot or plan. She just could be.

Based on the gentle look and small smile, Hope knew she understood. “Of course.” 

Chapter Text

As she skipped a stone across the lake, Hope had a soft, peaceful look on her face. There were no waves, no birds chirping, nothing of the sort. The world was unnaturally quiet. For most people, such a thing would be startling. But for her? It was perfection. A break from the noise of the modern world.

Even for humans, it could be too much sometimes. She knew this. Even if she had never really been one. But as a Tribrid? It was oh so much worse. She didn’t just hear a car from its muffler; she heard the wheels against the road, the screws rattling, the gas moving. Even the hum of electronics and the vibrations of plastic and metal from high-speed movement.

That was just one car. Let alone every noise a human made or every beep of a phone. Footsteps behind her broke that blissfully needed quiet. Each step was steady and unrushed, yet she also heard the fine leather hitting the dirt and creasing just so. There was only one other person in this entire world, so she didn’t move. “It’s quite beautiful and peaceful, isn't it?” 

As her voice echoed out, she could almost trace the sound as it bounced off leaves, so keen was her hearing. But she was more mesmerized by finally hearing her real voice again. Then again, she was mesmerized by most things these days.

“Beautiful in a rather macabre kind of way, yes.” His voice was low and refined as he stepped onto the dock, filled with utter confidence. Yet she could sense it so differently than the last time they had spoken. The hidden timbre only vampiric hearing could catch. How his heart beat in tune with his movements. How controlled even the flow of his blood was—it was impeccable, perfection combined into one. The grandest illusion ever woven, and one that lasted a thousand years. Her lips quirked up.

“I suppose a mix of Mystic Falls and New Orleans was destined to be rather gruesomely beautiful when it was crafted from both of our memories.” She tossed another rock and watched it skip seven times as he finally came to stand right behind her. 

“I take it I am right in believing this is a Chambre de Chasse, and a rather impressive one at that.” He was so close that his voice tickled the hair on top of her head, and she forced down the shiver, the need to turn around and hug him. Because while she had tried to hate him a few years ago, she never could. Not really.  

He was still her uncle. He had given up everything for not just her, but their entire family. How could she hate him for one of the worst days of his life? How could she when she didn’t judge others so? How could she hate the first person to ever fight for her, to love her before either of her parents? So, she laughed in amusement because he knew he was right and was just trying to be imposing. “You’d be correct. If I’m correct, you’re quite used to hearing that, though? Either way, it’s my own modified version of the spell.” 

He moved around her to stand side by side. From the edge of her vision, she caught sight of his perfectly tailored suit stretched across one half of him, before she looked away. Just as she had remembered, the black high-quality wool perfectly fit over his bicep and accentuated his waist. Learning that it had been meant to be a subtle intimidation tactic had been hilarious after his death, especially because she always thought of him a bit like a proud peacock.

 “Perhaps.” They stared out at the lake for a quiet few moments. “Might I inquire as to why you have brought me here?” His voice was non-threatening, tone befitting of the perfect gentleman. Which was quite amusing considering she knew what kind of beast could truly come out. Then again, was there a beast greater than her? It was doubtful. ‘For who could match Hope Mikaelson? The coward who would rather run through time than save the world.’ 

“I figured you’d rather enjoy some peace, instead of being stuck in the dark. I know I would.” The thought of ever being stuck in eternal darkness again had goosebumps breaking out across her skin, and her stomach roiling. ‘No. Never again.’ She had been completely and utterly broken after those short few months, just like everyone else who entered Malivore. The mere thought of a dagger working on her had been the real reason she had taken them from her father. Reviving her uncle was just a convenient excuse at best. A way to delude herself from the real reason. 

She could hear him tug at his sleeves subconsciously, and Hope quirked her lips up as he admitted, “You’d be quite correct. That is, if I didn’t doubt the intentions of a mysterious teenage witch.”

She turned to face him. “Is it impossible that I just wanted to do something good? That I think no one should have to suffer a dagger?” He turned to face her as well and froze as his eyes traced her face before landing on her eyes. Her heart fluttered, and she knew he heard it by the way he subtly inhaled.

“No, I don’t believe it is impossible…” His voice trailed off, and she shakily exhaled as he continued to stare. His hazel-brown eyes were completely blank of emotion. “How long?” His voice was low and sad, like his heart was about to shatter.

“That’s a complicated yet, at the same time, simple question.” He knew. Of course, he did. How could he not recognize her father’s features? How could he not recognize on sight the daughter of the brother he stood beside for a thousand years? How could he not see the love and care she tried so hard to hide? ‘It was stupid to appear as myself. I should have just stuck to being a child. Or even taken an entirely different form.’ But she had just wanted to feel normal, just for a little bit. And now he knew.

“It always is.” He wrenched his gaze away and back toward the lake, but she remained watching him, unable to look away now that she had faced him. “What’s your name?”

“Hope.” A soft smile was his response.

“A wonderful name. How old are you, Hope?” Although he seemed interested, and he probably was, her Uncle was a brilliant and conniving man. It was also a way to gather more information. Sadly for him, she was far too used to her family’s shenanigans and ways.

“That’s complicated as well.” She laughed at his amused huff. 

“Yes, it does all seem to be.”

“Don’t worry, it’ll seem even more confusing when you’re undaggered in a couple of months.” 

He tilted his head back to her, a curious look shining through. “A couple of months? Are you quite sure?”

She winked. “You have my word.” 

His eyes crinkled as he chuckled. “Well, I’ll have to take your word on it then.” 

She nodded her head, and then, in a flight of whimsy, took off her jacket. “You know, I’ve wondered for a while now.” He tilted his head, and she carefully set the jacket on the ground. “Which one of us would win in a sparring match. If you’re interested, Elijah?”

“This is quite a horrible distraction.” Even though he said that, he was taking his suit jacket off as well, but unlike her, he walked over to a nearby tree to place it upon a branch carefully.

“It wasn’t meant to be hidden. Besides, I have wondered.” 

He turned back to her, rolling up his sleeves. “I would say the same, but I’m afraid I didn’t get the chance.” There was bitterness in his voice, and she gently smiled at him.

“Don’t worry, as I said, it’s complicated. But for now…” She blurred forward, not tapping into her werewolf side. He matched her. In truth, in the real world, she would be weaker than he. At least when not enhancing herself with her wolf or witch side. The power of a vampire, ignoring their age, was based on the human body. Hope was a child, albeit she knew she was essentially supernatural Jesus. It was still a child's body.

But this was her Chambre de Chasse. The rules were up to her to make. So if she declared them equal, so be it. He blocked her punch and used it to take a step forward, a fast strike going straight towards her stomach. She twisted, flexible in ways he never could be, as she flittered around his punch. A grin cracked upon her lips as they descended into a flurry of blows. 

“Interesting…” That was all Elijah said before he moved. As her back landed against the dock, a laugh escaped her. She hadn’t expected to win when making them equals. No matter how skilled, no matter how experienced she was against different monsters. She had not a decade of fighting against his over a thousand years. It was simply too large a gap in their experience. Hope flipped back up onto her feet.

“Again.”

Groaning as her body hit the wooden boards once more, Hope snorted at his chuckle. “Laugh it up, I didn’t actually expect to win. Even if this is a bit embarrassing.” He reached a hand down, which she took. When she was back on her feet, he spoke.

“I do have quite a few years on you, and you were clearly holding back your werewolf side. It’s impressive you did as well as you did.” He took a step back, curiously examining her. She wasn’t at all surprised he realized she was a Tribrid. The second she had moved, he had likely realized it. “You fight far more like me. But I do see bits of Niklaus and Rebekah as well in your style.”

“I had good trainers.” At her response, he nodded.

“Yes, Marcellus was always an excellent warrior.” She froze, and his lips curled upward. “I see that I’m right.” Not quite, but it was close enough. He could have never guessed Alaric Saltzman after all. But it was ridiculously scary that he had guessed which of their family had trained her. ‘This is why I’m trying not to deal with the rest of the family yet. Fuck. Luckily, he’s daggered for a bit longer still.’ 

“It’s complicated.” 

A hint of mischief danced in his eyes. “Yes, I’m beginning to get the idea it is.”

Hope rolled her eyes. “I should get going. Time isn’t frozen in the outside world after all.” She paused, “It was nice to see you, Elijah, really.” To see him before he was shattered into a million pieces by her grandmother and his memories being erased. 

His face softened. “It was nice meeting you. Will I be seeing you again?” He held back from asking if he was to be alone for the next months until his undaggering, but she heard the question.

She grinned. “Often. It’s hard to find someone to fight or a peaceful time to do art outside of here.” With that, she disappeared. Her eyes in the real world snapped open. For a brief moment, there was a large smile on her face. Then, the happiness that had welled up inside started to fade the second she saw tiny hands once more. She sighed.

“Theoretically speaking, I could just do it with a burst of magic, right? But the problem is the side effects. Not on me, of course—I’m too strong for that. Especially with the Other Side still existing. If it were from Limbo, maybe. And that’s a big maybe, to be clear. I’m talking more about the side effects on Kol. Any thoughts?” She slurped her shake aggressively, and the woman whose face was pale in shock shook like a leaf.

“No? Please don’t hurt me!” 

Hope rolled her eyes. “You abuse children. Girl, you’re so fucked it’s unreal. You’re an actual monster, and I kill those. So buck up and listen well. Maybe having a good thought for once in your life will save you.” 

As the woman whimpered, shaking in her bonds, Hope detachedly watched as she tried to shake the chair. She watched how the woman tried to break free or get her magic to work again. None of those would happen. Hope was far too experienced in the art of dealing with captured people.

It was a weekly occurrence at the Salvatore School. Which was weird, because it was more like a monthly occurrence with her family. ‘That probably says something. What that is, I don’t know.’ 

“Well, you keep doing that, and I’ll keep talking. Alright? So here’s my thought: if I use the dagger as an anchor and then shove a bunch of magic infused with my will, something will happen. What though? Is he going to come back as a ghost? Will he be locked into the dagger? Will he just come back in his body? As a witch? Now, I could not use the dagger, and that removes one of those problems. But then I’d need to use a whole lot more magic, and I’m trying to stay at least a little bit on the down-low.

“It’s kind of hard to stay hidden if you light up the entire city. Or heavens forbid, the entire Gulf.” Hope paused, thinking it over. “Although maybe I shouldn’t? Things would certainly be easier if I just went full power. Then new threats might come too early. It’s hard to say;  it kind of gets rough to think when your brain is buzzing non-stop. Especially when you have all these weird emotions and feelings. Like me rambling like this, ugh! So what do you say?” 

“You—you can use the ancestors! Some of them will surely have a connection with Kol Mikaelson.” At the panicked words, Hope hummed in curiosity. So the woman sputtered out, “Mary-Alice Claire or any number of witches! Surely somewhere there’s something of his that will help a bit more than just whatever dagger it is!”

A wide smile appeared on Hope’s face. “See! I knew you would be of use. I’m finding myself having to pick other people’s brains. You know, because I’m stuck like this. It gets pretty hard to think sometimes, but I said that already. You’re wrong, though. I won’t need the ancestors now that you said that. I know exactly where I can get his stuff now that you’ve reminded me. Now, what should I do with you?”

“Please! Don’t kill me, I helped you, right?” That was true. She did. Then again, she was a child abuser. Also a murderer, but that was common among most supernatural beings. Hope tried not to judge; not everyone was raised at the Salvatore School. Even she broke some of those rules, let alone random witches from one of the nine covens. Really, a little black magic never hurt a Mikaelson witch. A Gemini siphoner twin? Sure. But those were two completely different topics. It was barely breaking the rules when she did it!

“Alright. I’m going to admit, I really hate killing. It’s too easy for me. I do it once and start thinking, why not a few more? Honestly, I should never have killed that Dragon. I became kind of horrible after that for a while. So, a lifetime at that quaint little cottage it is. The one Mary-Alice died inside of should do it instead, no?”

“Wait, no! Anything but tha—” Hope snapped, and the woman fell unconscious. She took another slurp of her milkshake, and her nose wrinkled at the off taste.

“It’s the little things that you never know you’ll miss.” With that sadly muttered sentence, she shook her head. “Let’s see if you can’t fix that, shall we?” She leaned down and gently scratched the witch's wrist. Gently popping her milkshake’s top off, she tilted the wrist over her milkshake. A few moments later, she licked the wrist clean and whispered, “Invisique.” Both she and the unconscious witch turned invisible. 

The next morning, Fauline’s Cottage had another resident. The milkshake had also been barely passable after her small addition.

Stepping into Lafayette Cemetery, Hope paused. She had been expecting to be repelled, but an annoyed look appeared on her face when she wasn’t. With utmost reluctance, she continued onward after a few seconds, once it was clear nothing was going to happen. ‘I really need to figure out if that’s a Tribrid thing making me immune to all my weaknesses, or a deal with Mother Nature thing.’ Both were equally horrifying. 

It did cross her mind that the Ancestors could have just let her in. But technically speaking, this version of her hadn’t been born in New Orleans. Probably. Maybe. It was complicated. And honestly, it wasn’t worth thinking about until she actually deigned to talk to them.

The Ancestors were judgmental in general. Especially to people with power, and that’s one thing Hope had. Too much of it, in fact. It was her firm belief that no one should wield such unchecked power as she did. Especially not in the body of a child. Sadly, this was her life, and she was the one with the power. Luckily, there was an upside to the revelation that she was immune to this type of boundary spell as well. Even if it brought her far too many worries.

It gave her an idea. ‘Where is that “playhouse” of his again?’ Because if she were immune to consecrated ground and house ownership, what about a bloodline spell? Honestly, that sounded like a far better idea than trying to sneak Davina out of the church. Which, in turn, was better than communing with random Claire ancestors.

So, she wandered. In other places, that might seem strange or out of place, especially considering she looked like a child. Luckily, Lafayette Cemetery was the one place witches could drop their guard. Plus, the witches of New Orleans were weird. Hope didn’t even get one strange glance. Which was highly amusing for her, considering she was basically an affront to everything most witches stood for. Then again, she was basically acting as the champion of Mother Nature. ‘So maybe not. Life is weird and complicated. Just like I told Elijah.’ 

An hour later, Hope wandered around the surprisingly large and dust-free building beneath Lafayette Cemetery. ‘This is kind of impressive.’ Especially considering it was built and operated in the early 1900s, when science was far less advanced. Then again, her uncle had basically spent his entire life either studying magic or in the midst of debauchery. The fact that his hidey-hole, where he taught witchcraft, surpassed the understanding of that time by decades wasn’t that big of a deal.

Pausing at one specific spot, she tilted her head. ‘Maybe even nearly a century. Wasn’t this invented in 2014?’ Which was when Davina originally resurrected her uncle. Huh. Okay, he was kind of badass. ‘That means this is his invention…’ Well. That would certainly work, wouldn’t it? An invention of his own making, that was so profound that it would still be brand new a century later. That certainly would have a meaningful amount of connection to him. ‘So, do I revive him before or after Aunty Beks comes home?’ 

On one hand, her uncle running about New Orleans would assuredly cause her family to reunite more quickly. On the other hand, her uncle running about New Orleans would most assuredly be an absolute clusterfuck. Unless…

‘Huh. Surely that wouldn’t work?’ Then again, perhaps it was destiny. Besides, she could always make him an Original again per her deal with Mother Nature after she figured out how to turn him into a Siphoner. ‘This might work?’ She should probably check up on everyone she cared about before reviving her clinically insane uncle, though. 

Especially when she couldn’t predict if he would believe whatever story she decided to tell him, let alone whether he would decide to fuck up everything, hide away in a cave doing magic, or somewhere in between. 

Checking up and talking to people first would be reasonable. She could be that, at least sometimes. Although it was significantly harder now. 

‘Then again, the few people who had ever claimed I was the bastion of sanity had been lying to me, or in love with me.’ Hope Mikaelson knew she wasn’t in any way sane. Then again, let alone what teenager—what witch, werewolf, or vampire—was sane?

She literally agreed to rend time apart just so she wouldn’t have to miss her ex-boyfriend, whom she still loved. Also, her dad, mom, and uncle. But still. Those weren’t the actions of a sane person. She knew that and had no delusions there.

Naturally, the first person she would visit was Davina. She was by far the least troublesome and the one who caused the least tumultuous emotions. “You’ve been enjoying Astral Projection, I see.” Glancing for a moment longer at the technically crude, but emotionally packed, charcoal drawing, Hope smiled at Davina’s shy look from the bed.

The best artwork was that which was inspired, the actual skill level of the artist being unimportant. At least, in her view. The fact that Davina’s artwork was suddenly far more interesting and filled with emotion could thus clearly be explained by Astral Projection. It was a simple deduction, really.

“It’s been really nice to be outside again, even if I can’t touch anything.” Davina twiddled her fingers together before hesitantly asking, “Do you think we could maybe do something sometime? It’s just I can’t really let anyone from my school see me, and the rest of my friends are…” She trailed off, tears building.

Hope stepped forward and, with a smile on her face, hopped up onto the bed and pulled her into a hug. “Of course! I have a few things to do. But how about Saturday? We can go and see a movie. It’s got to have been forever since you’ve seen one in a theater, right?” Davina’s blinding smile in response had Hope hugging her even tighter.

‘You’re so innocent still… what did my family do to you, Davina Claire?’ The thought had a burst of rage spike throughout her, yet she didn’t let it show. Because while Davina had been her aunt in her first life, things were different and strange now. She’d even dare to begin to think about Davina like a little sister if she weren’t stuck in a child’s body.

Which really did keep complicating everything. ‘Hopefully, Kol can help fix that.’ Pulling out of her thoughts and the hug, Hope looked from Davina to the easel. “This really is a lot better. But I still have a lot to teach you, if you want?” The blinding smile she got in return brought back a fragment of the happiness she’d had with Elijah.

This time, it didn’t disappear because there was no illusion to be broken. Hours later, Hope left the attic with a smile on her face.

Her dip into her mother's dreams once more, before speaking with Elijah, was more about timing than a statement about the order of problematic emotions. Trotting up to Hayley, Hope nudged her with her snout and let out a happy woof when she was immediately scratched behind the ears. “Hello again.” There was warmth in Hayley’s voice, and she knew then that her mom remembered a decent bit of their conversation. “How have you been, kid?” 

Hope tilted her head, confused. It had only been two days since they last spoke. Had her mom thought her brief disappearance was because of problems? ‘I was just trying to give you time…’ 

Hayley sighed, muttering under her breath, “Mikaelsons.” Hope froze as she was suddenly picked up by the scruff of her neck like a puppy. Which technically she was currently. “You’re a kid alone in a world completely different from your own, and I haven’t heard from you in a couple of days. So how are you?” ‘Oh.’ 

Hope wiggled fiercely, and when dropped, instantly turned back into her human form. “It’s okay! You don’t have to worry. No one can hurt me.”

Instead of assuaging Hayley, a frown formed. “That’s not what I—” she sighed and restarted. “No one should be alone in a place they don’t understand.” 

Her care made a nice ooey-gooey feeling flood Hope, and so she happily grinned. “Don’t worry! I made a friend. I can’t tell you about her, though.” ‘This world also isn’t strange to me. A bit old, but not strange.’ Of course, she couldn’t say that. “But I have news! It’s not about the pack—well, not in the traditional sense?” She trailed off, because technically her family was her pack, but that wasn’t the same pack for her mom—Hayley. The fact that no one ever realized that Hope knew was part of the reason she was so fucked up.

Hayley sighed, clearly frustrated, although Hope didn’t quite understand why. ‘Maybe because of no news about the Crescents?’ Not that she had tried to find them yet. Then, a forced smile appeared on her face as she asked, “What news?”

“Well. I can’t get Elijah back to you yet. It would cause a war if I tried to, and I really don’t want to have to hurt Dad when he tries to do something dumb to Marcel. So, I’m going to get my little sibling a different uncle!”

Hayley stared, utterly confused. “Hope, the rest of Klaus’s family besides Rebekah is dead.” 

“Not for long. I’m reviving Kol tomorrow!” Hope pouted when Hayley’s face turned into one of utter horror.

“You’re sending someone people call the Original Ripper to protect my baby and me?” 

Hope rolled her eyes. “He’s not a ripper. Trust me, if he were one, Dad and ‘lijah would have never been able to dagger him so often. It’ll be fine. Trust that I know what I’m doing. If not, trust I’d never risk my family being hurt.” 

When Hayley still seemed uncertain, with some reluctance, Hope said a tiny little lie veiled in truth. “I never met Vivianne. But I have met you, and you’re the mom of my little sibling. That basically makes you my mom. I’ll never let you be in danger, okay?” 

There was a moment of silence before Hayley nodded. “Okay. I believe you. I’m sorry, it’s just… Everything is so much, and really fucked up.” 

Hope wrapped her in a hug, which really only reached her waist, but the thought clearly counted based on Hayley dropping to her knees to give one in return. “If everything's too much, we can go for a run?”

There was amusement in her mom—Hayley’s voice when she said, “I think that’s a great idea.” Before she was even finished, Hope was already once more in wolf form.

Brush sliding against canvas, Hope smiled as she heard the well-controlled heartbeat pause in the doorway. “You can come in, Elijah.” She had come here to see him after all, even though he was the last one. He did so and carefully looked around. She could tell just from the shifting of his shoes that they were of a different make than the last pair she had seen him in. They were newer and used more artificial textiles.

“This room wasn’t here before.” There was a hint of question in his tone, and without looking back at him, she nodded.  

“It’s complicated.” She shared his chuckle for a moment before adding, “But this is my room.”

“It’s quite wonderful. If I remember correctly, it was Marcellus’s.” They both knew he remembered correctly, but she nodded again anyway. She still hadn’t looked away from her painting. “I’m surprised. You seem rather accepting of me watching you. Niklaus is quite testy when others bother his painting.” 

She wouldn’t know. He had never really bothered to paint with her beyond the first two times. One of which was water coloring. Hope didn’t say that, of course, so instead she shrugged. “There’s no reason to hide my art. Besides, it’s just going to disappear when you leave this place. I’m really just painting because I don’t have time to in the real world.” 

“I thought time was the same between here and there?” Even as he asked that, he curiously looked at a different painting—one she had done soon after both of her parents’ deaths and had left back in New Orleans. It was a horribly dark piece, one that had helped her to get rid of any bad contemplations she momentarily had. 

“It is. That doesn’t mean I have time in the real world.” She heard the frown form on Elijah’s face as his muscles twisted.

“There are problems then? Ones that you’re avoiding, I’d guess.” 

“When are there not problems for the Mikaelson family?” 

He let out an exhausted chuckle at her words and paused in front of the window. “Indeed. That doesn’t mean I shouldn’t worry about you or the rest of the family.” ‘You should worry less. I don’t want to see you die again.’ 

Hope didn’t say that horrible thought out loud. Instead, she changed the topic. “If the Chambre begins to shake, don’t worry. I just have some heavy magic I need to focus on later.” 

He turned from the window and stared intently at her. “What magic is so great that it would cause this masterfully crafted spell to be potentially destroyed?” She didn’t respond for a few moments and instead finished her painting with a few strokes. Once it was done, she shifted the easel so he could see. 

“Kol.” A singular word that perfectly displayed his shock. “You’re going to revive him.” His tacked-on sentence was barely more than a murmur, as if there were too many thoughts in his head to contain even that. His eyes snapped to her with a fierce intensity, and Hope forced herself not to flinch back. “That is dangerous magic. One that not many witches can perform, and even fewer without their deaths. None without a cost.”

“It’s a good thing I’m not just a witch then. Isn’t it?” She didn’t tell him not to worry, because such a thing would be pointless. He knew that as well, yet clearly heard her unspoken comment.

He sighed. “I suppose it is. It’s not like I can stop you anyway. I suppose this does explain the visit.” Hope nodded, a somber look in her eyes.

“I’d like my family to be as whole as possible, Elijah. It’s why I can’t let you be undaggered for a few more months.” He rapidly absorbed the information and came to the correct conclusion.

“Rebekah. She’s not with you.” There was confusion, anger, and even a hint of disgust as he said that and added, “I had never thought she would do such a thing.”

Hope cut him off. “Elijah.” He paused, clearly having been about to say something else. “It’s complicated. Don’t think too badly about Aunty Beks. When you wake up, you’ll understand.” He stared for a moment before reluctantly nodding.

“You still won’t tell me what’s really going on then?”  

“I don’t know how. I never planned to bring you here. When I was making it, it was just for me. But then one moment… I just brought you here.” She had made the Chambre so that just for a small while she could be herself. Not affected by the confines of her body, or of the ‘past’ world she found herself in. A world of peace and serenity, where she could paint and be alone. Just for a while.

“Because no one should be alone.” The words slipped from his lips with ease, and she stepped forward. “I do believe that is why you brought me here, Hope. I don’t know why, but you feel alone. Don’t you?” She shuddered and looked away, doing her best to fight back the sudden tears building in her eyes.

God. Her family, even when they didn’t know her, could still read her so easily. “Hope.” With a steadying breath, she turned back to face him. “I don’t like being alone either. So thank you.” The words weren’t fake, fabricated, or carefully planned out. They weren’t a mask, like she knew he always wore, from stories and her few meetings with him.

At the sheer raw sincerity, she wrapped her arms around him. ‘I really missed you, Uncle Elijah.’ She didn’t dare to say the words out loud, even as he hugged her back without a moment of hesitation.

Hope opened her eyes and carefully dabbed away the tears from her time in the Chambre. She stood up and quickly glanced over the safehouse with a sigh.

“You know, I’m going to look real silly if this doesn’t work.” Picking up what others would mistake for a crystal ball, Hope walked over to a pit in the ground and gently chucked the object into a vat of black, almost mudlike liquid. Of course, it wasn’t actual mud. She’d never use that for magic. “Or really horrible, because you’ll come out as some kind of half-formed monstrosity that I’ll have to kill.” She paused, contemplating it. “Let’s call it thirty-three percent each and one percent leftover for variety.”

Really, it didn’t help that no one ever let her actually delve into black magic. Well, besides the very same uncle who she was about to revive, who had taught her bits of it in secret. Really, it was everyone else's fault that she was having to do this based on what she knew from limbo, from watching Ted in action, and from her memories of the Hollow. 

She never understood the secrecy or hesitation. She never understood the need to shy away from the art. There was nothing inherently wrong with black magic. ‘So what if I chant a little death curse? It was still me deciding who died! Just like with an aneurysm or neck-snapping spell.’ 

People were so weird. Didn’t they understand the difference between Black Magic and Black Magic you needed to channel for? It’s not like she was Josie or Lizzie, who were basically allergic to it because of twin sympathy. Let alone how Josie’s whole problem had been tricked into using that horrific sandclock that was basically made to trick young witches and warlocks. 

There was no Dark Magic in the world that could overload her to such an extent; Hope knew that for a fact. Because not even the Hollow was more powerful than her, at least not in raw power. Skill? Sure. The fact that her ancestor even knew English was telling enough that the Hollow was still learning over the centuries.

But power? No. Nothing beat her in that, not even the gods. The visions shown to her made it clear they were dirty cheaters who were just immune to her magic. Not actually more powerful than her. ‘Enough. I can think about it later.’ 

Shaking her head because she had been stalling, Hope stretched her hands out over the vat. Magic of this kind that wasn’t rooted in logic or theory didn’t have incantations. It didn’t have vague gestures. It was primordial. It just was. 

Her magic thrummed throughout her being before it rushed to her hands. They glowed a blinding blue, and once it all gathered with a force of her will, she pushed it into the pit. ‘Kol Mikaelson. Come back to this world, come back to me. It is not your time to be stuck, nor to travel to the world of the Gods.’ She commanded her magic to connect to the Other Side, to find his soul and pluck it from that realm. 

She willed her magic to reconstruct a body, whole and healthy. Power that would have killed an ordinary witch poured out from her every second, and winds churned inside the safehouse as lightning crackled outside. She could feel a body forming in the pit, absorbing the liquid and magic, but no soul came.

She snarled, veins popping out as her eyes bled yellow. “I said… Come back!” With the closest thing to a roar her body could produce, the walls cracked as her magic swelled. She felt it then, a connection, an anchor to her spell.

Hope gripped it tight with her magic and pulled. Something, no—someone tried to fight back. She didn’t let them and kept pulling. She heard a voice screech in rage, and felt the swell of a thousand other voices from the other side, suddenly trying to fight back. Hope simply pushed even more, never once giving up. “You will not keep him!” At her scream of rage mixed with fear, it felt like the world paused for a brief moment. 

Then the pit of black goo exploded as Kol Mikaelson rolled out of it, coughing and wheezing. Hope slumped to the ground, utterly exhausted.  

He coughed once, twice, and then his eyes opened. “Holy hell, kiddo, that was a ride. Never seen anyone kick dear old mom’s ass like that.” She stared in complete and utter bafflement as he wiped sludge off himself, before he turned to her. “Now, do you want to explain what the hell you did? ‘Cause my memories are kind of like a sieve from your birth onward, besides the whole you and Mother Nature reversing time and destroying the world to do it.”

Her mouth opened in shock as she tried to say anything, but all that came out was a pathetic whine that vaguely resembled, “How?” 

He grinned, proud as a peacock. “Why dark objects, of course! I wasn’t going to let my memories be affected again after I forgot you twice. Now was I?” He paused. “Although I have to say I didn’t prepare for this.” He looked down, flexing his fingers as he did so, and there was an utterly enthralled look before he shook it off.

“Now, tell me. Why did my favorite niece go full Tribrid, only to decide to end the world? Oh, and then reset it?” She opened her mouth again to try to respond, but in the end could only groan, a mix of confusion, horror, and utter embarrassment.

“Oh gods, don’t tell me you did it because of that peacock?” She didn’t respond not only because of his own hypocrisy, but because she was so completely confused. It was his turn to groan. 

Finally, something burst out of her as she stood up and snarled at him. “It wasn’t just because of him, okay! Nature showed me a lot of things before I fully agreed.” He shot her a look that had her wilting.

“Right. Well, let’s start from the beginning, shall we?” He flicked his hands, and with muttered words, the remaining goo just slipped off of him to the floor. He sat down on a stool. “How about the year, and most importantly, why the hell are you a child again?”

“Very pushy for the person I just revived after everyone missed two years of parent-teacher conferences, aren’t you?” The second the words slipped out of her, Hope flinched, especially when he reared back. “Shit, I didn’t mean that.”

Kol carefully leaned forward again, a sigh escaping from him. “No. You’re right. No hellos, no checking on you. Immediately trying to dive back into it, and we were a horrible family to you after Nik died. I’m sorry, Hope, we should have been better.”

She sighed. “I’m sorry too. I should have said something, and I shouldn’t have snapped. It’s just, everything's been so much. Everything is so much louder and more since I became a Tribrid. Then it became so much worse when I came back in time and was trapped like this.” 

He frowned, brows furrowing. “Turning back time made you a child? So this is what, 2019? 2020?”

She laughed a laugh filled with exhaustion, sorrow, and a hundred other things. “No. It’s July 2011, before my birth.” 

He frowned, eyes flickering about deep in thought. “That shouldn’t be possible for many reasons. But what’s more important is that it shouldn’t have caused you to de-age. You clearly aren’t in your younger self's body after all.” He stared back at her. “You said you made a plea with Mother Nature, and she accepted?”

“More like Mother Nature approached me. Offered me a deal.” He sucked his teeth at her words, and she shrugged, knowing exactly how it sounded. “I didn’t exactly have time to think it over.”

“Yes…” He acknowledged his words but still trailed off afterward. “Strange. When a deal is made with Nature, she doesn’t do things like that. Loopholes yes. But intentionally screwing someone over? Especially when she comes to them. Hell, when she comes to them, she doesn’t even let them know.”

After thinking it over for a few more moments, he nodded, coming to the same conclusion she had come to over a week ago. “She wants you to be this age for some reason.”

“I figured that out a while ago. Just not the why.” She sighed, “I’ve been here for almost a month now and am confused at a lot of things, really. It’s why I rushed to revive you. To have someone to talk things through with. Also, to help me plan because my brain is struggling to do that. Originally, I had been planning to force you to listen. Guess I don’t need to do that.”

Kol smiled, seemingly uncaring that she had been planning to magically enforce her will upon him to help her. “Well then. Let’s get started, shall we? You’ll have to fill me in along the way, of course. I have a startling number of holes in my memory.”

So, they did. It was productive. It was insane, and so many other things.

It was exactly what Hope had needed. It was a good day. The one bad part was that they both agreed that Rebekah had to come to New Orleans, and they couldn’t force it. But still, that was just one small wrinkle. They could wait a couple of months for her.

In the meantime, though? Hope knew what chaos she would cause by summoning him, even if she would do her best to rein him in. Her father was in for a real surprise, though.