Always and Forever

by VandaliaLaRue

Summary:

Vandalia LaRue has always felt as if she was meant to be living some sort of incredible destiny, but isn't. In fact, she feels she's merely existing and not truly living. Late one night, she finds herself at the bottom of a bottle so to speak -- her darkest hour. So she makes one last prayer before she goes away forever. One last plea to God, to the stars, to her loved ones who've gone before her. One last conversation up to Heaven, to the man who meant more to her than anyone else ever has.

'𝐶𝑎𝑢𝑠𝑒 𝐼 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑢𝑠𝑒 𝑎 𝑟𝑒𝑑𝑏𝑖𝑟𝑑 𝑟𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑛𝑜𝑤
𝑂𝑛𝑒 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑠𝑖𝑑𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑐𝑙𝑜𝑢𝑑𝑠
𝐼'𝑚 𝑓𝑒𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑙𝑜𝑠𝑡 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑒𝑚𝑝𝑡𝑦
𝐿𝑒𝑡𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑚𝑒 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢'𝑟𝑒 𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑚𝑒
𝐵𝑦 𝑠𝑒𝑛𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑢𝑝 𝑖𝑛 𝐻𝑒𝑎𝑣𝑒𝑛
𝐷𝑜𝑤𝑛 𝑡𝑜 𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑡ℎ 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑗𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑎 𝑠𝑒𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑑
𝐼 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤 𝑖𝑡'𝑠 𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑔𝑜𝑛𝑛𝑎 𝑏𝑒 𝑎𝑙𝑟𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡
𝐼𝑓 𝑖𝑡 𝑎𝑖𝑛'𝑡 𝑡𝑜𝑜 𝑚𝑢𝑐ℎ, 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑗𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑔𝑖𝑣𝑒 𝑚𝑒 𝑎 𝑠𝑖𝑔𝑛?'

And then suddenly, like an answered prayer -- her red bird appears. Her life changed, always and forever.

Chapter 1: Vandalia's Point of View

Summary:

“Hope, Faith, and Joy. Three things in short supply… until a red bird flies.”

Chapter One:

The Night the Stars Heard Me: A Feathered Prayer



I’d never given much thought to how I would die — only, that I knew I wanted to most of the time. At least, I was pretty sure I wanted to. Sometimes, though, the thought of death seemed much too… final. When the actual thought of ‘not waking up in the morning’ would cross my mind — it was as if claustrophobia set in. 

If the truth absolutely had to be told — I feared death, but I feared staying alive and being as miserable as I was much more. I feared that Heaven wasn’t real, and that I would never see my loved ones again if and when I did die. I feared that there would be nothing.

I hated to think of never seeing my loved ones again. I hated to think about the part of death that involved never getting to grab a coffee with a best friend again, never getting to listen to music with my Mom again, and never getting to snuggle up with one of my cats again.

Maybe, maybe I didn’t want to die. No, death was too permanent. ‘Suicide is just a permanent solution to a temporary problem,’ I’d heard those words my entire life and I believed them. I’d lived them, losing many friends in my life to suicide. 

‘Suicide is transferring your pain to someone else to carry.’ It was a coward’s way out. I knew it was, but when we think these things, we aren’t usually in our right mind, are we? I've had many friends end their lives in the last thirty years. The first boy I ever knew to commit suicide was when I was thirteen years old. Pretty young, right?

The most recent was a few years back. One of the men I was fortunate enough to say that I truly ‘loved’… he supposedly killed himself. We weren’t all convinced though - some of us believed his wife killed him. 

All I knew was that I just wanted the pain, the suffering, and the feeling of being so miserable, and so helpless all of the time to stop. Life just wasn’t supposed to feel this way. No, nobody ever said it was going to be easy. As a matter of fact, maybe life would be boring if it was easy all of the time.

But nobody ever prepared me, nor did they warn me that life could be this difficult. I’d always had too much of a photographic memory, and I could literally tell you every single time I’d genuinely smiled in my life — the bad thing that would immediately follow it, like a butterfly effect. 

My entire life, it was as if I felt everything so much more strongly than everyone else. When I was younger, I felt like maybe that was a blessing. I loved harder than others did in my generation, I got more excited over the littlest of things more than other kids my age.

But as I got older? I realized that it was a curse. Yes, happiness was ten times stronger for me, but sadness was twenty times worse. Anger was a hundred times worse. 

I’d tried many medications, I’d tried different types of therapy. It helped… some. On and off, at the very least, it would help. But then there were times, like tonight, where it was just all too much. Childhood trauma made me feel as if I was a failure, like I was nothing, and like I was worthless. 

Yes, yes I had friends and family who loved me and they did their best to help, and I tried my best to help myself, too. I’d been trying to learn self-care and self-love for so long now. I felt like I’d made great strides only to get knocked back a thousand steps once again. 

I was so tired of being on this perpetual rollercoaster called life. I was so tired of people telling me to ‘buck up buttercup, this is life, get used to it.’ I was sick of being tired. I was tired of being sick. 

Tonight, as I stood here on the dock and gazed out over the black waters of the Ohio River… I wanted to jump. At this very moment in time, it felt like it was my only way out. It felt like it was my only salvation. 

I knew I couldn’t swim and I knew in this darkness, with no one around to see me jump in… I wouldn’t be saved. Somehow, those thoughts comforted me. The thought that somehow in a few short moments after jumping, I would be met with open arms in Heaven by my loved ones, my ancestors. It was the thought that was bringing me closer and closer to doing it. 

I longed to be reunited with those I loved who had gone before me. Especially the ones I loved that I never had a chance to say a proper goodbye to. The things that are left unspoken, the words left unsaid – I needed to say them. I needed those who are gone to hear them and be able to respond to me. 

I just need a five minute conversation with everyone I’d lost and maybe I’d be okay. Maybe I’d be able to pick myself back up and find all of the broken pieces and put myself back together again. Just five minutes. Was it too much to ask?

I’d always felt so out of place in this world - like I was meant to exist in another time and another place. As pointless as my life felt at times, I often felt like I had a destiny ahead of me that I was unable to live. Like I was being denied a glorious purpose, if you will. There just had to be more to life and more reason to live instead of simply existing. There had to be.

I was closer to the edge now and I was taking in all of the sounds around me. There was a train about to come over the railroad bridge just to my right. I thought I might have heard the sound of a few people up in Audubon Mill Park above me, but maybe it had just been a car playing loud music while driving down Water Street. 

I was alone. I was always alone, at least I always felt alone, anyway. I loved my parents, I loved my best friends, and I loved my cats — my fur babies, but I was always alone. Even in a room full of people – that’s when I felt my most alone. I wasn’t invisible like I was as a kid… no. Sometimes I wished I could still be invisible like that. 

The truth was that I was, mostly, a well liked individual. But that couldn’t change the demons from my childhood and the traumas it left me with. It couldn’t change the fact that I was unmedicated with several things wrong with me that I couldn’t seek help for. It couldn’t change my heightened emotions. It couldn’t fix me. 

No matter how much success, praise, and accolades I found in this life, I just couldn’t find the last piece of my puzzle. Maybe it was more than one missing piece - I’m sure it was. Perhaps I was about ten pieces shy of a complete puzzle.

I couldn’t tell anymore. I could only tell that the puzzle was nowhere near complete and I felt hopeless in finishing it. At thirty years old, I’m sure no one’s puzzle was meant to be ‘complete’ this ‘early’ in life. The day we complete our puzzle is likely the day we die or very near it. 

But I felt behind compared to everyone else. I wasn’t a wife, I wasn’t a mother, I wasn’t a successful college graduated business woman… I was nothing. I was worthless. I’d grown up hearing those words and it’s all I could think about myself. I wasn’t pretty, I was fat. The people of this generation were so cruel, and so unkind. 

I’d been bullied ruthlessly my entire childhood. First I was too tall and lanky, then I was too short and fat. I had a horrendous, out of place Southern accent. I wore sweatpants all of the time instead of cute skirts and shorts, and I’d worn tennis shoes instead of cutesy flip flops. I didn’t get my ears pierced until fifth grade and even then, I was made fun of and told, ‘you’re only doing it to fit in!’ 

Everything I liked - I had been made fun of for it. My biggest passion in life? Made fun of because of it. TV shows, movies, or books I liked? Made fun of because of it. Music? Yep, that, too. I was made fun of for the friends I chose. I was made fun of for my crooked teeth, my thunder thighs… The list could go on and on.

The truth about this generation? They loved to take sparkly diamonds and crush them until they no longer sparkled. They loved to take a brilliant and bright star of an individual and snuff out that brilliance completely.

This generation was absolutely ornery, this generation was greedy, conceited, malevolent, and down-right hateful. Even if there was one good apple in the bag of twenty you bought, the other nineteen apples being bad outweighed the one that was still good. 

Who in their right mind would want to continue living in a world like this? I slowly started to look up at the stars. I just had so many questions and not enough answers.

It was a clear spring evening, not too warm and not too cool. I’d say it was around sixty-five degrees out right now. I found myself talking out loud, knowing I was the only one who could hear me. Myself and the stars, anyway. 

“Are all the stories true? Are the stars the gateway of our loved ones looking down on us from above? Can you see me, can you hear me? I’d give anything to see you… to hear you.” I sighed and wiped the tears as they formed in my eyes.

"I could use a red bird right now. I need a sign that everything’s going to be okay. I need someone up there to let me know that this rollercoaster I’m on isn’t always going to keep taking low dips. That eventually it’s going to even out and start going up, and maybe stay up for a while. I’m trying to keep the faith , to have hope , and I’m trying to find joy in every little moment, but it’s hard. Everything is hard right now and I just feel like I’m suffocating. I feel like I’m drowning beneath the undertow or burning in the hottest of hellfires.” 

Somehow, speaking this out loud seemed to help just a little but I knew it wasn’t a cure-all. I knew it wasn’t going to fix everything. Miracles didn’t happen, and fairy-tales didn’t exist. None of the stories were true. At least, that’s what I’d always told myself…



My ears picked up the sound of a footstep behind me, so I turned my head. The man who was standing near the beginning of the dock looked surprised that I’d caught sight of him so quickly. 

“Pardon me for my intrusion, miss,” he said in a soft voice. “I was walking through and couldn’t help but overhear you,” the man took a step up onto the dock boards. 

“It sounded to me like you might use someone to talk to,” he offered. I didn’t feel a threatening aura from him, so I’d slowly turned my attention back out towards the river . “The stars don’t seem to be talking back, neither is the water. The company would be much appreciated,” I stated in a soft voice.



He stepped closer, and I finally saw him in the moonlight—dark hair, faint tan, the sort of tailored suit that could whisper either grief or celebration. Thirty-five? Maybe forty. But those eyes… those belonged to someone much older than time. 

“Sorry,” I murmured quietly after a few moments. The male looked over to me with a quirked brow. “What for, if I may ask?” He questioned and I shrugged slightly. “For disturbing your walk, with my pathetic babbling,” I answered. 

“Rest assured, you disturbed nothing, and it didn’t sound like pathetic babbling to my ears. It sounds like you’ve got a lot you need to say, but the person, or persons, you need to say it to are gone?” He offered and I slowly nodded my head.

“You’re right. A lot of the people I need to talk to are gone.” In a way, when I admitted that, it felt as if my heart had ripped itself out and plunged into the river. The people I loved, the people I needed to talk to, they were gone, and they weren’t ever coming back.

"The words that remain in our heart that are left unspoken; the what if’s and the whys. Those are the hardest things we live with in life,” he admitted – sounding very much like he understood my pain. 

“Miss, please forgive my rudeness, but I haven’t properly introduced myself to you. I’m Elijah Mikaelson,” Elijah extended a hand to me and I looked down for just a moment at it, before bringing my eyes back up to his. 

“I’m Vandalia LaRue,” I introduced myself, slowly taking his hand. A chill ran up and down my spine the second that our skin connected. I saw what looked like blue static electricity for just a split second. I hadn’t realized either of us were so ‘charged up’ so to speak.



My green-tinted gaze met his deep brown eyes. I watched as he slowly brought my hand to his lips and kissed the back of it gently. Again, I almost could have swore I noticed a little blue spark or two. My heart had dropped down into my stomach and butterflies were fluttering around.



“A beautiful name for a beautiful woman,” he complimented, giving my hand a gentle squeeze before he slowly let it go. I couldn’t help but let out a laugh which made Elijah raise his eyebrow in my direction again. “You must be blind,” I whispered and looked down, “or wearing rose colored glasses. I’m definitely not beautiful,” and I wasn’t lying. 

I was ordinary. There was nothing special about me and there never would be. I was just Vandalia Geneva LaRue. I was thirty, unwed, an only child with seven cats I called my children. I took care of my aging parents, ran my own business with a job most folks would call quirky. My Southern accent stuck out in this speck on the map, I cussed like a sailor, carried a few too many pounds, and had a real talent for talking back. 

“You’re absolutely breathtaking, Vandalia,” Elijah insisted. The way he said my name, that chill went up and down my spine once more. This time, it wasn’t just a chill — it was a current, electric and alive. When he said it, I wanted to believe him. I’d never wanted to believe anyone so badly. Why did my being crave to believe him? I didn’t know him whatsoever. 

“I’m a mess tonight. If you think I’m breathtaking now – geez, wait until I put a little effort in,” I couldn’t stop myself from laughing a little, the first laugh in what felt like ages.

Elijah chuckled and flashed me a smile, showing me his pearly white teeth. They were so clean and so vividly white. It made me feel a bit self-conscious about my own yellowed teeth. They weren’t hideous, by any means, but I smoked a lot of cigarettes and drank a lot of coffee in my life.

It wasn’t even the yellowing that bothered me most — it was the crooked bottom row, the kind of imperfection only dental surgery could fix. But surgery costs money, and I’d learned to live with the teeth God gave me.

“You have a beautiful laugh, too,” Elijah complimented. I couldn’t stop myself from blushing at all of his compliments. I turned away from him so maybe he wouldn’t notice and I started to slip my shoes off, sitting down on the edge of the dock and letting my feet slip into the water. Truth be told… I’d never done this off the dock before.



The next thing I knew — Elijah had done the same thing. “I figured wearing a suit, you’d be much too prim and proper for this,” I teased. “Did you just get off of work, or leave a wedding?” I questioned and he shook his head ‘no.’ 

“This is my everyday dress. A man is never more put together than when he dons a freshly tailored suit,” he explained as he slipped his feet into the water. “It’s a bit too cold for a midnight swim, I’d say,” he mused at the prospect. 

“A swim… In this river ? No thank you. I’m surprised I’m even putting my feet in, to be honest,” my voice trailed. Normally I’d be too afraid to do this. I was afraid of water that I couldn’t see the bottom of. I couldn’t really swim all that well. 

“I usually only put my feet in the fountain in Central Park. Shh, don’t tell anyone,” I giggled just a bit. It wasn’t exactly ‘legal’ but, the Sheriff’s office right next door? They acted as if they didn’t see it all the time.

“I’m surprised at that with myself,” Elijah said with a chuckle. “I haven’t done something like this – well, in a very long time,” he admitted. “I never have moments like this anymore, honestly,” I whispered and kicked my feet a little, feeling the splash of the water go up my legs. I was wearing jeans, but I’d pulled them up to my knees so as to not get them wet. 

“I never allow myself to have moments like this. This is as carefree as I ever get and usually afterward – there’s a lot of goddamn hell to pay,” I mumbled and sighed. I knew I’d pay a price for tonight. I always did. 

It was like my life was one big BDSM relationship — smile, laugh, feel joy… and then life punished me for it. It hadn’t ‘allowed’ me that happiness. Twisted way of thinking, but when life beats you down so many times, you adapt your way of thinking. 

“You’re young and beautiful, Vandalia. You should be this way all of the time, if it’s what you want,” he stated and I laughed once more. “Life is never that simple. At least, not for me,” I mumbled and looked over towards the train bridge. A train was just beginning to cross it, coming from Henderson and going towards Evansville. “Looks like the 12:15 is on time. Some things never change.” I always did that. I knew when the trains would be coming through. 

Looking at a watch on his wrist, Elijah wore a look of surprise. “You have an impeccable sense of time, Miss LaRue,” he chuckled. “I’ve always been able to time the trains. Every fifteen minutes, like clockwork. Sometimes they’re a minute or two early, or late.” I explained. 

“Speaking of late, it is awfully late to be out here by yourself,” Elijah stated and I shrugged. “I guess I didn’t have my safety as a top priority tonight,” obviously, as just a few moments ago I considered jumping into this river and never floating back up to the top. 

“Don’t let me keep you out, though. You probably have a wife to get back home to,” I mumbled and slowly pulled my feet from the water but stayed sitting on the edge of the dock. 

Elijah chuckled and shook his head, “as much as it may surprise you, Miss LaRue, no. I’ve never been a fan of the institution of marriage… or perhaps I’ve never found the right woman.” Honestly, his response, it floored me. 

A handsome, charming man like Elijah Mikaelson wasn’t married? What was he, a serial killer? The thought had crossed my mind but, I had a death wish tonight. I guess I wasn’t that fearful of losing my life. What could have been so bad about losing your life to such a handsome stranger anyway? 

“A beautiful young lady such as yourself should have a husband at home, and a couple of children,” Elijah added and I was the one who shook my head ‘no’ this time. “Not in the cards for me. I take care of my parents, which doesn’t leave much time for taking care of myself. I’m self-employed full time, and have seven cats that are the closest things to children I’ll ever have.” 

“Ah, the crazy cat lady, as they say,” he teased to try and lighten the situation, and I nodded a bit, laughing a little myself. “Yeah, I guess you could definitely call me the crazy cat lady. I’ve always been a cat person. My Grandma used to call me the ‘cat whisperer.’ Because no cat hated me. Even the most feral strays — five minutes with me and they’d be curled up in my lap like they’d known me forever.” 

I realized I probably sounded like a fool, just babbling on to this complete stranger. Something about it, something about him – I felt like I’d known him my whole life and that I could trust him with everything I was thinking, everything I’d ever experienced. 

“Miss LaRue, it sounds as if you pour from an empty cup quite frequently,” he stated as he pulled his feet from the river now and started to dry them with a handkerchief he’d pulled from his pocket, before putting his dark black socks, followed by his equally as dark black shoes back on. 

I hadn’t cared much about drying my feet so I pulled my socks back on and put my tennis shoes back on and stood up. “Story of my life. I’m a people pleaser. A lot of unresolved childhood trauma I guess,” I admitted and rolled my shoulders. “I’m one of those ‘it is what it is’ people and I’ve heard we’re the most dangerous kind,” I said while laughing rather heartily.

“Oh, I do have to agree with that,” Elijah said with a bit of a chuckle, “as I know a few of those types myself.” I found myself wanting to ask more — who did he know that fit into my mold? I found myself wanting to know his life’s story. I felt it would be a fascinating one. Much more fascinating than my own.

"Did your talk with the stars tonight help refill your cup a bit?” Elijah asked and I rolled my shoulders once more in contemplation of what to say. Should I lie to him? Honesty was always the best policy, but could this perfect stranger handle me at my darkest moment? I doubted it. I guess we were about to find out.

"I came out here to kill myself tonight,” I admitted out loud, and after it had come out — I wished I could put it back in. I’d always spoken without much of a filter, and in this one instance, I desperately wished I had a filter.

I couldn’t bear to look at Elijah, so my attention went back out to the water and the gentle waves that were moving against the dock. I could hear the sound of a towboat engine in the distance. Sure enough, one was pushing upriver, coming around Henderson Island right now.

Why couldn’t I bear to look at this perfect stranger after admitting such a thing to him? Was it because I felt ashamed? Was it because I was afraid of what he might say, or what he might even do? I was already used to feeling like a disappointment. Why did it matter if he thought of me as one, too?

His silence was more than I could take, so I elaborated on my feelings, and what had made me feel the way I did tonight. If I was going to be so blunt with a total stranger, I might as well put it all on the line, right? 

“I’ve lived with suicidal thoughts since I was a young girl — about eleven years old. Sometimes they go away for a long time, and then other times, it’s constant. I’ve tried so many times, but apparently I’m meant to be here for some reason.” 

At 30 years old – that reason sure was taking its sweet fucking time at showing itself. Sometimes, I felt like it was all a big bullshit lie that we were all put here for a ‘reason.’ That we all had a destiny. I sure wasn’t living mine. 

“I’ve always felt like there’s some glorious purpose for my existence, but, I’m simply just… here. I haven’t found that purpose, yet. I cheated death at birth, and again at two months old. All my life I’ve cheated death. Hell, my parents cheated death to the point that I think they mind-fucked the universe and created me, a creature that isn’t even meant to exist.” 

I was sure I sounded absolutely batshit crazy to Elijah now, all the more reason to continue looking out at the water, instead of attempting to look at him. “I just sometimes wish I could rewind my life and do it over, you know? I wish I could go back in time with the knowledge I have now and some proof to back up the things that will happen, and change things for the better. I wish certain people were still alive. I could warn them, but I know it’s impossible. You can’t change the past. You can’t bring back the dead. There isn’t a phone-line to Heaven. All I can do is hope that my loved ones save a place for me and one day I’ll see them again,” my voice trailed off. 

I felt a gentle hand on my right arm and I turned to look back at Elijah who wore a very serious look on his face. Like a magnet, I started to turn my body towards him now, though he never let go of my arm. 

“I know I barely know you, Miss LaRue, and I know I am not owed anything from you. But, please promise me just this one thing. That you won’t ever try to end your life again,” he was looking deeply down into my eyes and for a moment, I felt as if he was looking into my soul. 

Where had this perfect stranger come from? How had he stumbled upon me of all people on this very night? How had we never met before? Somehow, I felt like we had. Somewhere deep, deep within me – it’s as if I’d known him for a thousand years or more. I was only thirty years old, and I was sure he could only be forty-something years old, and somehow, I knew him. I’d known him for an eternity. I was absolutely sure of it. 

My mouth was dry, and my throat was tight. My heart was beating erratically as I looked up into his eyes. “I don’t like to make promises that I know I can’t keep,” I whispered and his gentle grasp on my arm tightened ever so slightly. “What can I do to help you keep a promise like that to me?” He questioned and I swallowed that much harder. 

“I—I don’t k-know.” I whispered, my mouth hanging open just slightly. I had never been so like a deer caught in the headlights in my entire life. “I–I know I have family, and I have friends. I have the very best of friends, they’re like sisters to me,” I admitted and finally broke my gaze away from him, looking down between us. “But, most people who get close to me, they abandon me—so I’ve got abandonment issues out the ass, and trust issues too. Everyone gets tired of me, bored with me, eventually.” 

“I can assure you, I’m diff—,” but I cut him off before he could finish saying it. I’d heard this a billion times before, and they always turned out exactly the fucking same. “You’re different,” I stated and looked back up to him now as he nodded his head. 

“No offense, Elijah, but you all say that. I doubt you want to hear how many times my heart has been broken, just this year alone. My dating history looks like a flow chart of my mental health,” I said with a sigh. Normally I’d laugh at that joke, but I was being completely serious. 

“I’m sure you find me quite rude, having been so blunt with us barely knowing one another. I do apologize for that,” Elijah said softly, to try and diffuse the tension he may have felt had appeared between us a bit. 

“I appreciate that apology, a-and maybe I owe you a bit of an apology, too, and I do appreciate your company tonight. Y-you saved my life, honestly.” I admitted and started to pull away from him, walking down the planks of the dock until I’d reached solid ground. I could hear Elijah following close behind me. 

“I’d like to get to know you, Vandalia, if you’d allow me the pleasure.” I didn’t turn back to let it show, but the thought of him wanting to get to know me in the future – it scared me, yet excited me all at once. 

I was walking up the windy trail back up into Audubon Mill Park. My fat ass was naturally out of breath by the time I’d reached the top. I had to take a seat on one of the benches and Elijah sat down next to me. 

“Honestly, I’d love to get to know you more,” I admitted while biting on my lip ring out of nervousness. “But I’m not sure it’ll be a pleasure for you to know me better. I really wasn’t kidding, Elijah. People get tired of me, bored of me.”

I knew he believed I was exaggerating, but I wasn’t. I was the most exhausting person I’d ever met. I’d been told that by numerous relatives, and twice as many ‘friends.’ Hell, I even found myself exhausting.

“They use me for their own amusement, or for whatever they can get out of me, and when they’re done with me, well, I’m tossed to the side for the next, even more exciting thing.” 

I’d been treated like a Raggedy Ann doll my entire life. By family, by friends, and most certainly by romantic interests. Why would Elijah Mikaelson be any different than the dozens who’d come before him? 

The ache in my gut to be near him was fierce. The ache in my heart, no, the craving in my heart to know him was even more fierce. But I could have sworn I felt like this in the past. 

I hadn’t loved every person I’d been with in the past. No, love was something only an elite few had the privilege of earning from me. This was way, way too soon to be thinking about ‘love’ with Elijah Mikaelson. But there was something about him and something about tonight that felt… different. 

It was Wednesday, April 5th, 2023 , and I’d prayed for a red bird. Today would've been Nick’s 30th birthday, and maybe – maybe Elijah was my red bird, nudged by destiny and by Nick towards me. Maybe Elijah Mikaelson was sent from the Heavens for me. Lord knows, I’d waited long enough for him. But had he been waiting for me…?

(5,320 words, roughly 21 pages.)

Notes:

I started this story after a dream I had on the night of Dec. 3. 2023. Between Dec. 4. 2023 and now (Feb 2025) - the story is over 600,000 words. I've outlined things I want to happen over a span of, literally, 30 some-odd years into the future.

This story is told from a 'first person' point of view, and it changes point of view every chapter.

My story moves at the pace of snail-snot, and I'm not kidding. Seventy some-odd chapters take place over the span of six or so days. I'm wordy, I'm descriptive, and I'm unapologetic in it. When I started this story, I never intended anyone to read it. However, my friends (after having read a few chapters), insist that other TVDU fans may enjoy it. (Especially if you don't mind reading smut, incestual smut, and the story moving at the pace of molasses in a January snowstorm.)

In a lot of ways, my story is a real-life representation of myself. Especially here in Chapter One, what my character feels inside/thinks about herself -- that's 100% the real me.

My story takes many twists and turns; many I have planned out that I haven't even written yet. I look forward to you all reading along and wondering if you can figure out what these twist and turns are going to be.

I'm new to AO3, but I'm not new to fanfiction or writing. In fact, I started creative writing at only nine years old. I'm old-school; I used to write on FF.net and Mibba back in the day (actually, come to think of it, I think some of my stuff is still over there. lol.)

I will also add - I do use A.I. (Bing and Grok) to make visuals for my story. I'm rubbish at art/drawing, and this story at the end of the day is for FUN. I'm not making $ on it, it can't be published (since it's fanfiction) so please, cut a Western KY gal some slack on the use of AI art.

This story has a playlist that accompanies it on Spotify - all of the songs in the playlist relate to the story in one way or another.
https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5vxkLYvWEGgrkWbLFdN42h

For chapter one - the songs that are the biggest inspiration would be "Red Bird" by HunterGirl and "Phoneline" by Austin John Winkler.

Chapter 2: Elijah's Point of View

Summary:

"I carry the weight of a thousand years and sins. Still, when she reached for life, I could not turn away."

Chapter Two:

The Quiet Wonder of a Beginning: A Thousand Years Waiting for Her



I had only been in this small river town a couple of hours when I came across a forlorn young woman sitting on a dock over the Ohio River, bathed in moonlight. I couldn’t help but overhear her pleading to the stars for a sign — a red bird, as she’d put it.

Hearing her admit she wanted to end her life tonight, it struck a nerve. Human life was precious to me. It was an odd thing, considering I survived off the blood of human beings, to consider any human life a precious thing. But her life seemed precious to me, although I hardly knew her. I had never intended to make her a meal, and I certainly wouldn’t consider it now. 

Now to hear of how she’d been treated by most who have come and went in her life. I felt like she deserved better than what she’d been put through. Humans very rarely left a profound impression on me but this one, she seemed different. I couldn’t put my finger on why exactly. Something deep in my bones was telling me, no, screaming at me — she’s different.

“I would like two things, Vandalia,” I said, turning my gaze from the moonlit river to her beautiful face. “First, I’d like to meet every person who has ever made you feel like you aren’t enough, like you aren’t beautiful, and like you aren’t a literal Goddess among the living, and give them a piece of my mind.”

I watched as her beautiful pale cheeks flushed a rosy red color. What an amazingly human thing to do — to blush in shyness or perhaps embarrassment, maybe even a little bit of both. “And secondly, I’d be honored to prove to you that you are enough, that you are beautiful, and that you are a living, breathing Goddess amongst mortals.” I said those words as if they were written in Holy text. 

I could hear the sound of her heartbeat — bless her, she had no idea what I was, or what I could sense. Every time her heartbeat stuttered — perhaps from ‘butterflies’ in her stomach; I could hear it, I could sense it. I wasn’t sure why, but the funny sounds of her heartbeat, it was quickly becoming my favorite sound. 

“I-I don’t know what to say, Elijah,” her Southern accent was sweet, and her voice was tender like that of an Angel. “I’m sure I’ve come on far too strong and honest, Miss LaRue,” I admitted and smoothed out a few creases in my pants before slowly standing up from the park bench that we’d been seated on for the last little while.



“I’ve never been the type to – what’s the phrase — beat around the bush?” I said with a chuckle and extended my hand out to her. “The night is young for me, if you’d care to walk with me some more,” I asked her and she slowly nodded her head and reached up to take my hand. 

Once more, faint blue sparks flared when our skin met — static, perhaps. Or something more. Regardless of it, her hand was warm and inviting — I laced my fingers with hers and we began to walk around the perimeter of the park.



“This is the latest I’ve stayed out in a long while,” she admitted, “and definitely the latest I’ve hung out with anyone for quite some time.” It surprised me to hear such words from her — a woman her age – she should be out late like this every evening, with an itinerary packed with social engagements.

“I feel quite honored it is with me,” I stated and brought her hand up to my lips once more to place a delicate kiss there. I noticed her smiling up at me as we walked hand-in-hand. 

“Are you from around here, Elijah? Surely we’d have met sooner.” Vandalia questioned and I shook my head. “No. I actually just arrived in town a few hours ago. I booked a room in a quaint bed and breakfast a few streets over and decided to go for a nighttime walk,” my voice trailed. She knew the rest of the story. 

“Oh, the L&N? It’s so beautiful. I’ve never even been inside, believe it or not. I know who owns it though,” she said with a laugh. “What brought you to town?” I was afraid of that question, albeit, it should be an innocent enough one to answer. However, this human didn’t know what I was. I was sure she knew nothing of the supernatural world she actually lived in. 

Like any age-old vampire — I thought up a believable lie and I thought it up quickly. “Believe it or not, I threw a dart at a map. It landed near Henderson, and here I am,” I said with a convincing chuckle. “I’ve been working way too hard lately, and I knew I was overdue for a vacation. My dearest sister insisted I get away for a bit. I’m glad she twisted my arm,” I chuckled.

Even though I knew the truth, it was a believable lie even for myself. You had to know my little sister’s personality and how she quite literally would and could twist my arm into just about anything. I had always been quite hopelessly devoted to her. I was devoted to my entire family.

“I envy the ability to throw a dart and go somewhere, wherever it lands,” she said with a bit of a sigh. I felt terrible for her — it seemed she’d never known true freedom in her life. “What do you do for a living?” It was an inevitable question now that I’d mentioned I’d been working way too hard. 

“I dabble in a bit of this and that. Entrepreneurial things, sit on a few council’s and board’s.” It was honestly the best I could offer her. “What about you? You mentioned you’re a self-made business woman, I’d love to hear about that.” 

We had exited the park now and were walking across the street, passing in front of the post office. I was letting her lead, although I kept pace with her excellently. One might say we were letting our feet take us wherever they wanted.



“My job is my biggest passion in life, so I could honestly talk your ear off about it all night. I’m not sure you’re up for that,” Vandalia teased. I flashed her a pearly white grin. “I most certainly am. I’d enjoy nothing more than to hear you talk about your passions,” I reassured her. 

“I’m a genetic genealogist, cemetery researcher, and local historian — I live and breathe this town. My Mom’s family has been here for generations. I was born here and have been here my entire life.”

Already, she spoke with such conviction. I felt she was the type of woman who had a strong sense of hometown pride, and that this was not only the town she was born in, but would like to die in as well.

" I’ve always felt a strong connection to my ancestors. It's like they’ve wanted me to find them, to get to know them. That sounds crazy, I’m sure, but that’s why I’ve stuck with genealogy for all of these years. I started when I was just seven years old,” her voice trailed off now as we walked into another park that seemed like it was at the very ‘heart’ of this small and quaint town. 



I noticed the large fountain — this must be the ‘Central Park’ she spoke of earlier. “I have to admit, I’m rather impressed,” I admitted after listening to her explain her job—no, her passion. “I’ve always been a history buff myself.” Well — what thousand year old vampire wasn’t? Of course, she didn’t know that about me, though. 

The way she spoke about her ancestors, it made me wonder if there was perhaps more to her passion than she even realized. That kind of ancestral pull, it was more common among witches. I wondered if she felt it too — if she even knew why. Such a calling, as they’d describe it. We Mikaelson’s were born witches. I remembered what it was like to possess magic. Those were days far, far in the past. 

“If you’ve been at this for twenty-three years, you probably know what your last name means,” I started and she laughed, nodding her head. “The Street, in French. Yes, my ancestor came over as a French Huguenot many centuries ago. Apparently the last name was given to folks who lived very near to the street, way back when.” Ahh yes, the Huguenots. Not one of our finer moments in history.

“Your last name — I’d guess Scandinavian ancestry,” she added and it surprised me. “Norwegian, yes. My parents were born there. I was the first of their children born in the New World,” I realized too late — a slight slip. I was typically more careful. Usually, I was much more rehearsed with my words. Something about Vandalia though – I felt like I could trust her with my secrets, even the secret of what I was.

“That is, the new world to my parents, of course,” I added to hopefully save some explanation. “You mentioned a sister. How many siblings do you have?” She questioned, an innocent question enough. 

“More than I can reasonably explain,” I said with a chuckle. “But my sister Rebekah and I have always been close.” I wasn’t sure if I should get into all of the Mikaelson family drama. No, I was certain that I shouldn’t. Perhaps knowing of Rebekah, it would sate her palate for now.

“Lucky,” she murmured as we walked up the steps and took a seat beside the fountain. “I’m an only child, which I guess I’m grateful for, in a lot of ways. I wouldn’t have wished my childhood or the bullshit I’ve been through as an adult on anyone else, but sometimes I wish I wasn’t alone in life. A sibling would have been nice to stand side-by-side with through the thickest of storms,” she explained.



“Siblings aren’t all they’re cracked up to be,” I said with a bit of a cackle leaving my lips. If she knew the turbulence between my siblings and myself, well, she might sing a different tune. “I am sorry that you’ve felt so alone, though,” I murmured an apology and looked down into her eyes. 

I could hear her heart making that funny pitter-patter again. Our hands were still laced together, such a simple gesture that could hold so much meaning. “I-it isn’t your fault, no need to apologize,” Vandalia whispered and looked at our hands, then back up to my eyes.

“Of course it isn’t my fault, Miss LaRue, but I still sympathize. I cannot rewrite history, but I can add depth to your future, and promise that you never have to be alone again, if you so choose.”

This was fast. I knew it would be fast for a human. It was almost too fast for me, a thousand plus year old vampire. But there was something about her. Her presence was invigorating, almost… addicting. Now that I’d crossed her path, I never wanted to uncross it. 

“You definitely don’t beat around the bush,” she could barely whisper. Her face was as red as it had been all night and her heart, well, a doctor might have worried she was about to suffer a heart attack. I, however, knew better. “You speak so eloquently, almost like your… from a different time, Elijah,” she stated. 

“I’ve been told that a time or two. What can I say? Perhaps I was born in the wrong generation,” I gave it my best shot with a soft chuckle. “I’ve always said that about myself, actually. Especially when it comes to my love life. The love I’ve always desired doesn’t exist in today’s world. I’m a hopeless romantic stuck in a hookup culture.” 

“Today’s generation – don’t get me started,” she truly had no idea — considering I was over a thousand years old. “I’ve had my fair share of dalliances, I can’t say I haven’t. Like I said before, perhaps that’s why I’m unwed. I’ve just been waiting for the right woman.” There was a certain inflection in my tone of voice as I gazed down into her green eyes once more. 

“I’d be extremely privileged if you’d allow me to find out if you’re the one I’ve been waiting for,” I murmured. “E-Elijah,” when she said my name, it was almost like a whimper. “My apologies if that’s too forward, or too quick, Miss LaRue. Just know that I am very serious with my offer. We can take things as slowly or as quickly as you’d like,” I explained. 

“T-that’s a little better,” Vandalia said quietly. “I never thought I’d meet someone like you tonight. Handsome, intelligent, kind, and compassionate,” she went on. “I don’t know how long you’re here for and I don’t think relocating is in the cards for me, not until much later down the road at the very least. I doubt you’d move here for me, and I wouldn’t expect you to do so anytime soon. Maybe a ‘let’s see where this can go, for now’ type of situation. Enjoy taking it slow, getting to know one another, and see where it leads.”

Yes, that was a reasonable answer and it somewhat helped level my head a bit. The pull she had on me was so strong, though. I knew I wouldn’t be able to deny her, if ever, or stay away from her for too terribly long. “Spoken like a true woman of reason,” I said with a soft chuckle. 

“Trust me, everything in my being is telling me to be irrational right now,” she mumbled and I couldn’t help but flash that pearly grin of mine again. “The same for me, and I can’t quite understand why. There’s something about you, Vandalia, and I just don’t know what that something is yet. I’m willing to put in the work to find out.” 

“I-I feel the same way. I’ve just had my heart broken so many times, and a lot of them are because I leaped without looking. A really, really bad habit of mine,” she admitted.

“I’ve been very much the same in the past, but I usually have a pretty good judgment of character. Of course, we can all be blinded or wear rose colored glasses, as you put it earlier.” Yes, I’d been a fool in love many times in my past. 

I longed to tell her what all I’ve lived through, what all I’ve seen and experienced in the last thousand years. I wish I understood why and how she was putting such a spell on me. I would expect this, perhaps, from a Petrova doppelgänger, but not from this beautiful young woman. 

“I guess I have to ask,” Vandalia started, looking down at our hands once more. I felt her fingertips dance along the back of my hand, and I did the very same to her. It was incredible how much I enjoyed such a simple gesture as this. 

“How long do you plan to be here for?” She asked. I knew that was an important question. “Maybe a few weeks, it all depends." Of course, I couldn’t tell her it depended on the ‘why’ I was here. So I flashed her a convincing smile. 

“Depending on how long you’d like me to stick around,” it seemed those words brought a large smile to her face. “I was afraid you’d say you’d be going home in two or three days,” she said with obvious relief in her voice.

“A two or three day vacation? Please. I’ve been known to be away half a year on vacation." More like half of a century, actually, but she didn’t need to know that. 

We talked for what seemed like a lifetime, but in all honesty, it was only another hour or so. We talked about some of her favorite memories in this park we currently sat in and some more about her job.

Most of her memories, it seemed, involved loved ones who were gone or her very best of friends — sisters, she called them. A lot of the memories involving this very spot had to do with something called ‘Tri-Fest weekend.’ I could tell right away, that particular weekend out of the year was of great importance to her.

The one memory she told me that stood out the most and that brought a large smile to my face— dipping her feet into the fountain and being surprised when her late Grandmother joined her in doing so. She said that her Grandmother had felt ‘such a rebel’ and so ‘carefree.’ 

I gathered her body was beginning to stiffen when she stood up and started to walk away from me. I knew, instinctively, she wanted me to follow her, and so I did. With ease, I caught up with her and beneath the glow of the moonlight, I took her hand in mine once more.



So we walked together, away from the fountain now and went to sit in the gazebo which was across the park from the fountain. “I wish you could see the park at Christmas and how beautiful it is,” Vandalia said softly as I took a seat and she sat down beside me. It was getting much colder now and I noticed her shiver more than once.

Like a true gentleman, I unbuttoned my suit jacket and slipped it off my shoulders and gently placed it around her. “You aren’t used to things, or even people, lasting in your life, dearest Vandalia. I could never be happier as I would be to walk this park with you come this Christmas season,” I admitted and noted the warm smile that was creeping onto her lips. 

“I’ve never met a gentleman like you before. You’re really quite incredible, Elijah,” she murmured. Even in the few short hours we’d known each other now, she was making me, too, feel things I hadn’t felt in quite a long time. Not since, well – not since Hayley. “You’re quite an incredible woman yourself, Miss LaRue, and I hope you believe me when I say it.” 



“I do believe you,” again, her voice was a soft murmur. She cuddled into my suit jacket, and soon, up against my left arm. I looked down at her and I almost felt myself blushing for the first time in a long time. The things she was doing to me – it was as if I felt a frozen heart beginning to thaw. 

“You must be getting colder, and sleepy, Vandalia.” I didn’t want us to part, but I knew it was likely well past her usual bedtime. Yawning, she pulled a cell phone out of her pocket and checked the time. 3:16 AM. “I didn’t realize it was so late,” she sounded a bit startled at the realization of the time. 



I noticed the background on her phone was a photo of her and a friend. “I like to take selfies with friends,” Vandalia said with a laugh when she’d caught my gaze upon the screen. “That’s my best friend Dadie. She’s like my soulmate in best friend form.”

It warmed me to know she had such a friendship. “We were texting when I was first on the dock, but I kind of left her hanging,” her voice had saddened a bit. I took it, she felt guilty for not responding. I could only imagine the state of worry that her best friend was currently in, wondering if Vandalia was alright or not.

The level of trust, though, in their friendship – that’s what really tugged at my heartstrings. It appeared to me that this best friend of hers must have had an immense amount of trust in Vandalia to know that she was okay at this moment.

“We should officially start our album,” I offered her and noticed her face flush, that pitter-patter heartbeat returning to her chest, stronger than it had been all night. “Y-you wouldn’t mind? I-I’m not used to a guy being interested in photos with me. Photos are proof that another secret girlfriend could see, or a wife. What I mean to say is that I’m used to being a dirty little secret,” I noticed her face falling as she babbled. 

“Reach into the left inside pocket,” I instructed her and she raised a brow, but did as I had told her. Inside the pocket was my own cell phone and when she pulled it out, she handed it to me.

“You’ll never be my dirty secret, Vandalia,” I said to her firmly and opened the camera on my own phone. I was no stranger to selfies — my sister Rebekah enjoyed taking them and ever so often, my sister Freya, too. 

I knew the importance of photos, especially for a human. As a vampire, we had detailed memories but even we enjoyed photographs to take us back to special moments. My brother, Niklaus, was the artist of all of us, but we all kept journals. We were historians, and archivists to a certain degree.



I wrapped my left arm around her and let her snuggle close to me and with my right arm extended, I snapped a photo of the two of us smiling. When I brought my arm back in, I opened the group text thread titled ‘Family Above All .’ There were secrets in this text thread that would shock her, but I knew she needed to see that she could trust me. 

I put the photograph of us in the attachment and captioned — ‘ First night in town and I’ve met this lovely lady. I think my stay in this town will be so much better than I previously expected .’ I knew when I hit send that there would likely be a flurry of messages soon to come, and even a phone call or two. I was prepared for it. 

“My chat thread with my siblings. They’re important to me, family is important to me. Now, you can consider yourself an extended part of that,” I admitted and looked over at Vandalia — she almost looked as if she had a tear to her eye. Her lips had parted slightly as though she wanted to say something but she couldn’t quite find the words to do so. Instead, her eyes continued to fill with something far more telling to me — emotion, gratitude, perhaps even disbelief. 

It seems the small act of including her into the group chat among my siblings and myself had touched her more deeply than I think I could have ever expected. Deeper than even she imagined. “You just,” Vandalia finally whispered. “You just told your entire family about me.” 

“Yes,” I confirmed without hesitation. “You said you’re used to being someone’s dirty little secret. I want you to know that you are not that to me. You never will be.” Vandalia didn’t know it about me but I had never been the type of man to keep a woman a secret, not when I knew I was feeling this strongly about one. Yes, I had secrets — a great many of them. None of them included my feelings towards women I loved or might have loved. 

The way Vandalia’s eyes shimmered beneath the pale glow of the gazebo lights stirred something ancient and aching in me. A protective instinct. A longing I’d nearly forgotten how to feel. Vandalia wasn’t a doppelgänger. Vandalia wasn’t a witch, a vampire, a hybrid, or any great supernatural being fated to cross my path. And yet, she was the most magical presence I had encountered in what seemed like a lifetime. 

“You have no idea what that means to me, Elijah,” her voice was quiet and it cracked just slightly at the end. Vandalia was trying not to cry, and I could see it in the tightness of her throat, the way she leaned back ever so slightly to mask the mist in her eyes. “I think I do,” I said gently, reaching out and running my knuckles along her cheek. “Because I’ve spent centuries feeling like I was never quite enough. Not for the women I loved, not for my family, and not even for myself. But right now, here with you, I feel like I am exactly where I’m supposed to be.” 

I felt as if she viewed me like an answered prayer and I was beginning to believe she was right. I’d saved her life tonight, maybe in more than one way. Fate, destiny, the cosmos — something had nudged me and allowed me to find her out on the dock tonight at her lowest moment. Although I was the ‘noble one,’ as they’d put it — there was a sense of egotism swelling within me that I could be the one thing that someone had been praying for, for quite sometime. 

Vandalia let out a quiet breath, like she’d been holding it in for far too long. “You talk like you’ve lived a thousand lifetimes,” her voice was a gentle tease as if she was trying to re-center herself. I couldn’t help but chuckle at her usage of ‘a thousand.’ I was that, plus a few years. 

I gave her a pearly while smile. “Perhaps I have,” I murmured. I was losing myself in the color of her beautiful green eyes. I was losing myself in the stir of emotions that were growing stronger and stronger. “You’re too good to be true,” murmured Vandalia. “That usually means there’s a catch.” 

Ah, how alike we think. Everything good in my life had always come with a price or in today’s words — terms and conditions. “There is,” I admitted as she looked up towards me with a brow half raised. “You may have to be patient with me. I have a complicated family, and a complicated life. But you do have my word, I will never make you feel like a secret.” That was a Holy vow not only to her but to myself. I felt too much for her already for her to ever be a secret from anyone. 

For several long moments, we sat in silence, save for the chirping of crickets and the distant rustling of the wind through the trees. Vandalia was curled into my side and I hoped she was warm beneath my suit-jacket. Her heartbeat steadied against my ribs. “I don’t know what’s happening,” Vandalia murmured. “I don’t know what this is.”

“I’m not completely sure myself,” I answered her honestly. “I do know that I want it to continue,” and that I was unashamed in admitting. Vandalia’s head rested against my shoulder and our hands found each others once more, our fingers lacing like they had been earlier tonight. “I want that, too.”

There was something so fragile yet powerful in her confession. It wasn’t some grand declaration, it wasn’t a hushed murmur of ‘always and forever,’ — but something was beginning with those simple words. Something real. The first real thing that’s waltzed its way into my life in a long, long time. After another moment, it seemed Vandalia had recovered from such a show and admission of affection that now, our lighter conversation was able to resume. 

“It means a lot to me — to not be some middle of the night secret, some ‘only while I’m out of town’ secret. I just hope that they like me. Like I said earlier, if I’m so beautiful to you right now, wait until you see me when I put some effort into it.” 

She giggled now, which I much preferred hearing as opposed to the sadness in her tone just a moment ago. “Maybe we should exchange numbers then, especially since we both have an iPhone,” Vandalia grinned.



We swapped phones and I put my contact information into hers, and she put hers into mine. When we finished and I had my phone, I decided to send her the photo I’d taken of us as the first message of our chat thread. I noticed that flurry of messages starting to come through on my phone which was set to silent. A barrage of names in the group chat — Rebekah, Kol, and Niklaus. 

“I probably should get home. I’m parked down by the riverfront, if you don’t mind walking me to my car,” she said quietly and the two of us stood up. “No question about that, my lady,” I nodded my head and together, we walked down the steps of the gazebo and made the trek back to her car. 

I hated to see the night end with her, but it was after 3:30 in the morning now. I had business that needed attending to in this town and well, I’d monopolized more than enough of her time this evening — in the best way, of course.

When we reached her car, she slowly removed my suit jacket and handed it back to me. “Thank you, Elijah. Thank you for everything tonight. I-I don’t know where I’d be right now, if you hadn’t found me on the dock,” she whispered as I slid my arms back into my jacket and buttoned it. I honestly felt a bit naked without it.

There was a moment though that I had to pause — it was brief, hardly noticeable for a human, if noticeable at all. I shouldn’t have noticed, but I did. And the noticing shook me more than I cared to admit. In my mind, I was playing over when I’d first offered her my suit-jacket earlier tonight and now replaying her taking it off and handing it back to me. There was a sensuality in this moment that somehow felt familiar. 

I longed to see her in an article of my clothing again in the future. Whether it be my jacket or perhaps the white button-up shirt that laid beneath. No, she wouldn’t notice at all — but something so small had taken my breath away. I was imagining just how incredible she’d look in my button-up; how much like a Mikaelson that she’d look. 



“No thanks needed for that, Miss LaRue, and no more thoughts like that if it can be helped,” I stated and reached down, pushing some of her dark black hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear. “From now on, if you ever feel like you did earlier tonight – text me, call me, FaceTime me. Anything, Vandalia. I’ll answer. Always.” 

“I—I will. I promise,” Vandalia whispered. I remembered what she’d said earlier tonight, that she wouldn’t promise something she never intended to keep. Despite having the car door open, I could tell she was hesitating about getting inside. I raised my brow as I gazed down at her and as if she’d heard me ask, she answered. 

“I know it’s silly but I just – I feel like this has all been a dream tonight. It started out as a bad dream, obviously, and now it’s like a fairytale. I-I feel like I won’t ever see you again when I wake up.”

Now there were very obvious tears coming to her eyes. “I assure you, this isn’t a dream,” I murmured and reached out to touch her face once more, this time wiping away a tear from her cheek with my thumb. 

“You’ll see me again, very soon,” I continued as I gazed into her eyes. She didn’t know me well, yet — but I was a man of my word. The more time I spent with Vandalia – the more I knew, I couldn’t stay away from her for long. I just couldn’t. 

The way she was looking up at me, the way she’d just voiced her innermost fear to me – I couldn’t stop myself. I needed to show her just how serious that I was about her at this very moment. “I would like to ask your permission,” I whispered. 

“A-anything,” she could barely mumble the word out. “May I kiss you, Vandalia?” I questioned and the second I noticed a slow nod of her head giving consent, I wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her closer to me, dipping my head down and catching her lips with my own.



The feeling that washed over me was indescribable. I hadn’t felt anything like this in my entire existence. It wasn’t a discredit to the loves I’d experienced in my past, but that was the thing — that was my past, and this was, I was hoping anyway, very much my future that was currently in my arms.

I didn’t know how she was doing what she was doing to me. I wasn’t sure she even realized, but it was as if she’d cast a spell on me, and I was helpless to stop it. I didn’t want to fight it whatsoever. 

There was a large part of me that wanted the kiss to be one of heat and passion. I craved it, and especially with her — but now wasn’t the time for that. Instead, it was tender, and it was delicate, and I hoped it conveyed how serious I was about tonight and what I wanted going forward.

I hoped it was putting into action, backing up the words I’d spoken. I wasn’t going anywhere. I wasn’t going to disappear. I wouldn’t be like the rest. 

As much as I hoped she could feel the things I felt, I knew I could feel how she felt. She was projecting every bit of that into the kiss. I felt her anxiety, I felt her nervousness, and I felt her worry.

I felt the depression, the sadness, and the hurt – but then I also experienced the renewed faith she’d found in meeting me tonight, the joy that was swelling up inside of her and making her feel as if she were about to burst. She was making me feel very much the same way.



A few moments later, I released her from the kiss and listened to the sound of her trying to catch her breath. My eyes were closed, our foreheads pressing together. “W-wow,” she managed to whisper out, shakily. I slowly let my eyes open and found myself gazing right into her green orbs. 

“H-how am I meant to let you go after that?” Vandalia questioned and I was surprised at how much it mirrored my own thoughts. “I was just asking myself the same thing,” I admitted.

Perhaps, it had been a very foolish thing to kiss her tonight. Because now, she was going to consume my every thought. I wasn’t sure if I’d ever manage to sleep. Not that a vampire required much anyway. 

“I know what I’ll be dreaming about,” a soft laugh escaped her lips and I chuckled. A man could get used to a woman saying such things to him. “Perhaps you can phone me tomorrow with play-by-play details,” I mused with a grin on my lips. “Let me know when you make it home. I’ll be waiting,” I admitted and she slowly nodded her head. 

I still had my arm wrapped around her waist and when I tried to remove it, she took me by surprise — her arms went up around my neck, and she buried her face into my shoulder. A hug. I tightened my grasp on her and reciprocated, holding her for a few moments as if my life were dependent on it.



“Goodnight,” I felt her lips murmur against my skin and I would never admit out loud the feelings that washed over me in that moment. I ached for this mortal woman in my arms, and she’d never, ever know just how much. I felt her pull away now and I offered her a smile as she slipped into her car. “Goodnight, Miss LaRue.” 

As I watched her rev the small car to life and leave the parking lot — I couldn’t explain it, but I felt compelled to follow her. I’d never experienced such a pull in my thousand years. It was as if she carried half of me with her when she left. 

I struggled with my desire to catch up to her, which would have all-too-obviously shown her what I truly was and that – that just couldn’t happen yet. For one of the first times in my life, I considered being a peeping Tom and staying near enough to her that I could hear her heartbeat, and could hear her soft voice if she spoke aloud to herself, or to her animals, friends, family. 

No, I couldn’t do that to her. So as soon as she’d rounded a corner on the road and was out of my sight, I started calling my sister Rebekah. Without even so much as a hello when she’d answered, my little sister began in her usual way. 



“Have you even read your last several hundred text messages?” Rebekah started and I chuckled as my feet carried me from the parking lot down the quiet sidewalks of downtown Henderson towards the L&N Bed and Breakfast.  “I have not, no. I’ve only just put Vandalia into her car and she pulled away."

"I called for you to be my conscience as you so often are, Rebekah,” I stated rather sternly, letting her know that I was serious upon this matter.

I either needed to be talked into this or I needed to be talked out of this. There could be no gray area. Vampires could never do gray areas. “Of course, Elijah,” Rebekah murmured after hearing the seriousness in my tone. 

“I’ve never felt this way before,” the words fell from my mouth and I could almost hear a tiny gasp leave my little sister from 675 miles away. Not through the phone, either. No, I knew her well enough to be able to see the look upon her face without utilizing a video call. 

“Will you tell me about her?” Rebekah asked. “She’s quite a beauty, I’ll give the human girl that. There’s something about her green eyes that are captivating,” she went on. Rebekah wasn’t joking — even I had been quite entranced by Vandalia’s eyes. 

“I was out for a midnight walk. I was listening for… well, you know what I came here for,” I began. “I walked a couple of blocks and found myself at the top of a beautiful riverfront. There weren’t many voices out so late at night. I could hear a train that hadn’t even neared the bridge yet, and I could hear a riverboat that was still over a mile away.” 

As I spoke these words, I was walking past that very riverfront once again. It made a little chill run up and down my spine – the sense of Déjà vu if you will. “What my ears did pick up on was the voice of an angel, Rebekah. I will never forget the words of her prayer, of her pleading, not for as long as I live.” 

“Can I know them?” Rebekah questioned on the other end of the phone. As if the words were just spoken mere moments ago, I recited to Rebekah what Vandalia had said out on the dock just a few hours ago. 

“Are all the stories true? Are the stars the gateway of our loved ones looking down on us from above? Can you see me, can you hear me? I’d give anything to see you… to hear you. I could use a red bird right now. I need a sign that everything’s going to be okay. I need someone up there to let me know that this rollercoaster I’m on isn’t always going to keep taking low dips. That eventually it’s going to even out and start going up, and maybe stay up for a while. I’m trying to keep the faith , to have hope , and I’m trying to find joy in every little moment, but it’s hard. Everything is hard right now and I just feel like I’m suffocating. I feel like I’m drowning beneath the undertow or burning in the hottest of hellfires.” 

When I’d finished speaking for a few moments I’d wondered if the call had been disconnected because Rebekah was so quiet. Then, at last, she whispered. “Was she trying to kill herself, Elijah?” 

“Yes,” I answered her immediately. “I believe she would have succeeded had I not happened upon her, Rebekah. I wish I could explain it to you but it’s so indescribable. For the first time in a thousand years, I feel as if someone prayed to be saved, and I was the answer to their prayer.”

My voice trailed as I neared the L&N now. However, I was far from being done talking to Rebekah on the phone. There was a bench out in front of the bed and breakfast so I decided to utilize it. 



“Maybe you are,” Rebekah whispered. “Did you tell her?” I didn’t have to insult Rebekah by asking what she meant — I knew. “No, but the craving to do so, Rebekah – I can’t keep this woman in the dark. I need her too badly,” I murmured the words. “She asked how long I’d be in town and I knew it would break her heart if she knew it would only be for a day or two.” 

“Elijah, you absolutely must come home for Easter. We can’t celebrate such a holiday without you,” said my little sister. For a few moments, I’d honestly forgotten Easter was this weekend. “I wouldn’t dare, and you know I wouldn’t,” I stated firmly. “But I can’t – I can’t stay away from her, either. Maybe I could maintain a permanent residence here.” 

“Nik would never allow it,” Rebekah said in the quietest of whispers. “I already fear he may be upset with you. Marcel, Freya, and I were downstairs in the living room, talking and reading as we often do. We were messaging with Kol and Davina, and then we could hear glass shatter upstairs. None of us dared check on him,” her voice disappeared completely.

Asides from perhaps our eldest brother Finn and our younger brother Kol, no one had felt Niklaus’s wrath quite as often or as venomously as Rebekah. Niklaus had the best of intentions and the worst of executions. 

My half-brother Niklaus loved so very powerfully and he meant well, I know he did. But the things he’d done to Rebekah— to all of us throughout the last millennium, well, some would say they’re unforgivable. 

Now, after years of what I’d say have been stronger built and healthier relationships between the five of us Mikaelson siblings. Even now, Rebekah fears Niklaus as if he was her own personal Boogeyman. No little sister could love someone more or be as devoted and as loyal as Rebekah is to Niklaus, and yet she fears him above all. 

“You know I could never leave New Orleans for good,” I mumbled, a bit agitated at the reaction that Niklaus would have at just my meeting a beautiful mortal woman in a town that he’d sent me to in the first place.  “No, if I had no conscience, Rebekah, I’d whisk Vandalia away right this very moment for New Orleans and we’d never look back at this town. I’d turn her.” 

I couldn’t even believe I’d admitted such a thing to my sister, but I knew if there was one single person – one Mikaelson who would never judge me, it was Rebekah. “Elijah,” Rebekah said my name quietly. I could hear the confusion. I could hear the questions without her having to ask them. ‘Why this girl?’ 

“Vandalia is the reason it’s never worked out with anyone else, Rebekah,” I whispered the revelation. “When I gazed into her eyes, it’s as if I’ve looked into them before. It’s like they tell the story of lives that came before this one.” I knew I most likely sounded like a lunatic to her at that moment, but I didn’t care. 

“When we first touched tonight, the strangest sensation came over me. These blue sparks kept appearing, almost like magic. They were so calming, so peaceful, so pure. I don’t know if she even noticed them. She’s a human, so she probably didn’t,” I went on. 

“Could she be a witch?” Rebekah asked, and it was of course, a very logical question to ask. I’d already wondered about it tonight myself. “I don’t think so. She lives the most mundane of lives, sister. If she were a witch, she wouldn’t be living the life she is currently. She wouldn’t have been so despondent and ready to kill herself to see her loved ones again.” 

“Miserable witches do exist, brother,” Rebekah said quietly and of course, I knew she was right. Our sister Freya had been quite miserable once upon a time. Only when she found us had she found a bit of happiness. “You’re right, though. If she were a witch and longed to talk to her loved ones again, she’d just have a séance or something,” Rebekah’s conclusion had been that of my own. 

“So now you understand my quandary, little sister,” I murmured. “She’s young and human, dearest brother. She has mortal ties to that town and she shouldn't be asked to give them up. At least, not for a very long time,” Rebekah spoke softly. 

I knew she was right. The correct answer to all of this — compel Vandalia LaRue to forget me, and return home to New Orleans as soon as the business here was finished. That wasn’t going to be the easy answer, though. Not easy on me.

The hardest answer? It’s the one that wasn’t even an option. ‘Family Above All ’ had been something I’d lived by for my entire existence. I couldn’t just cut ties with them and live a farce of a life up here with Vandalia, her believing I was a human. 

Even if… at this very moment I wished for nothing more than to live out a long and happy life with her right here in this quaint river town. “I think I have a little solution, maybe,” Rebekah said quietly and her voice had brought me out of the depths of my thoughts. 

“I’m listening,” I urged her to continue. “It sounds as if Vandalia could use the vacation that supposedly you’re in Henderson on. Invite her home for Easter with us. See if spending a week or two in New Orleans would be something she’d enjoy.” 

“I’d have to tell her,” I whispered. “I would have to show her what I am, Rebekah. The chance of things that she could see or she would overhear in New Orleans – she would be in constant danger knowing nothing. If I stay here, I could hide what I am from her so easily and for so long,” my voice trailed off. 



“Then you have a choice, Elijah. Settle for a beautiful lie that may make you halfway happy, or take a chance with the truth and maybe, she may turn out to be the best thing that’s ever happened to you. You saved her life, Elijah. Now, maybe it’s her turn to save yours,” Rebekah’s words cut like steel. 

Rebekah was right. She was absolutely right.

(7,907 words – roughly 30 pages.)

Notes:

Chapter Two is the first of many chapters that will be in Elijah's Point of View. It's still first person, and with every chapter, the point of view will change. (So I'm sure you can guess the point of view for Chapter Three, haha.)

This chapter has the actual first mention of 'Tri-Fest weekend,' which will be a pretty important weekend coming up in the story. (Oh... in about 100 chapters, lol.)

As I said before the start of the first chapter; my story moves at a pace of snail-snot. Each chapter is about 5,000 to even 11,000 words long.

I will also add - I do use A.I. (Bing and Grok) to make visuals for my story. I'm rubbish at art/drawing, and this story at the end of the day is for FUN. I'm not making $ on it, it can't be published (since it's fanfiction) so please, cut a Western KY gal some slack on the use of AI art.

This story has a playlist that goes with it on Spotify - every song in the playlist relates to the song in one way or another.
https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5vxkLYvWEGgrkWbLFdN42h

This chapter, the songs that go best with it would be "Never Alone" by Jesse Bonanno, and "Bleed" by Elliot Greer.

Chapter 3: Vandalia's Point of View

Summary:

“The hardest part isn’t surviving the night — it’s believing you deserved the morning.”

Chapter Three:

The Girl Who Didn't Jump: A Morning Full of Light

When I got home, I was grateful that it was 3:45 AM (Wednesday, April 5th) and the entire house was asleep - besides one or two of my cats. It allowed me to bask in being on cloud nine for a little longer. I slipped into my room rather quietly, put on my pajamas, and crawled into bed.



I opened the text thread with Elijah and started typing a message — ‘I made it home and just crawled into bed. Thank you again for tonight. I can’t say that enough.’ I hesitated for only a second before hitting send. 

While I waited for a reply, I opened up my Facebook app and in typical twenty-first century fashion, I already had new friend requests from a bunch of Mikaelson’s. Of course there was Elijah , but then there was also Rebekah , Freya , Kol , Davina , and Klaus . Naturally, I accepted each one. Rebekah I knew for sure was a sister, but the rest? I figured they must be his other siblings — or at least close enough to call family.

My phone gently buzzed when a new message appeared from Elijah. ‘It was my sincerest pleasure, Vandalia. You and this quaint little town have reinvigorated me already. I can’t wait to see you again.’ I grinned while reading and trembled a bit in response. I wasn’t used to someone being so eager to see me again so soon, especially someone like Elijah Mikaelson. 

‘I don’t want to take up all of your time while you’re here. Maybe we could see each other this weekend if you aren’t busy? ’ I offered and gnawed on my lower lip as I waited for a reply, which didn’t take long to appear on my screen. ‘How about a date this Saturday night? ’ Of course, I couldn’t say no. 

‘Saturday sounds perfect. I can’t wait.’ It was the truth. I had butterflies in my stomach. A part of me hated that I had them. They always spelled catastrophe. Good things just didn’t last for me. Happiness would always bring on sadness. 

I kept thinking back to everything that had happened tonight, and then my thoughts lingered on that kiss. It had been such a simple kiss but one that had conveyed so much feeling somehow. Still, out of all the kisses I’d received in thirty years of life, this one already meant the most.

Scrolling up a little, I saw our photograph together. I was embarrassed at the mess that I looked like tonight. I was nowhere near beautiful as he insisted I was. I’d worn no makeup, no cute clothing, and my hair was a mess. But when I left the house late tonight, I never intended on coming back. Let alone, potentially meeting someone as significant to my life as Elijah was already proving to be. 

‘You should get some sleep, Miss LaRue. Message me when you wake up, if it’s not too much trouble.’ His next message read. I giggled at his notion that I could go to sleep that easily. ‘Sleep will hit me when it hits me. It’s never that quick.’ ‘Ah, an insomniac. As am I,’ his response was as fast as lightning. 

Of course he would be. It seemed we were too much alike. I had saved the photograph of us and put it as my phone's background now. Even though I hated how I looked, it reminded me that tonight was real. 

I hadn’t dreamed Elijah Mikaelson up. For a brief moment, I wondered if he was my Heaven. I had begun to think that I’d jumped off that dock into the cold water and I’d died, only for Elijah to find me on the other side. Maybe my soulmate had been dead all along. 

‘Definitely a natural born insomniac, but when I’m super giddy like I am tonight, that makes sleep difficult, too.’ I responded at last. How was I meant to sleep after meeting someone so perfect? Someone who had literally saved my life? 



‘I do apologize for making sleep difficult for you, Vandalia, but I do not apologize for you coming into my life tonight, nor do I apologize for saving your life. You aren’t the only one feeling – giddy. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt such an emotion.’ 

The message almost made me tear up a bit. Again, I felt like Elijah spoke as if he was from a different time. I liked it a lot. I’d never met someone who spoke as eloquently as him. No one else I’d ever met had displayed such intelligence and charisma. He was quite literally the definition of enchanting. 

‘You have nothing to apologize for. How could I ever be sorry that someone so amazing saved my life? How could I ever be sorry about meeting you? You’ve given me hope to continue on in life for the first time in what feels like an eternity.’ 

It was the truth. How could anyone who was contemplating suicide have any hope or faith that things were going to work out for the better? No, a few short hours ago – I was at the bottom of a bottle and I felt someone putting the cork back in and closing me up. I felt my life ending. 

I wasn’t okay with it. I have seven cats I love like children. I love my parents, I love my friends, and I wasn’t okay with dying. But, sometimes that’s how bad the depression got. It consumed me and made me feel that there was no other option. Tonight, Elijah showed me that wasn’t true. Tonight, Elijah proved to me that at times there was no liar quite like your own mind — that your mind could be your own worst enemy.

‘I’m so glad that the feeling is mutual, Miss LaRue. Never did I imagine I’d stumble upon a once-in-a-lifetime woman such as yourself on my first night in your beautiful town.’ 

I couldn’t stop the large grin that was slowly forming on my lips. ‘I hope your stay in my town is wonderful and for more reasons than just myself.’ 

‘And so it will be, Vandalia. I’ll make sure of it.’ 

I wanted to do two more things before falling asleep — one, I wanted to share that we’d met tonight on Facebook. I wanted to write something profound and something meaningful. But when I opened my app again, I found that Elijah had beat me to the punch. He had tagged me in our photograph and written something sweet as a caption.



‘I arrived in a quaint little river town this evening and checked into a cozy little bed and breakfast. After settling in, in typical night-owl fashion, I went for a walk along their beautiful riverfront around midnight. 

Imagine my surprise when I stumbled upon a gorgeous young woman sitting on the dock by herself and talking to the stars above her. I was drawn to the sound of her voice and found myself on the dock with her, getting to know the real and vulnerable her. 

The next three hours with Vandalia were enchanting to say the very least. We walked from the riverfront and into Central Park. We sat near the fountain for a long time, and then in the Gazebo. We talked, we laughed, and I admit that we shed a few tears as well. 

I met a stranger tonight on that dock, but by the time I escorted her back to her car and watched her drive away — I feel as if we have known each other over many lifetimes. I have met such a kind, gentle, intelligent, woman of depth. 

Tonight felt like the first page of an incredible novel — one I hope will span many lifetimes, not just many chapters. I hope you will all enjoy our story with us as it unfolds.’ 

I felt tears stinging my eyes. I knew that my friends and family would be able to see this post and I welcomed it. For the first time in my life, I felt like my heart was safe with him. 

I didn’t want to rush into things like I had so many times in the past but I did feel, now, that I could believe Elijah when he said, ‘I’m different.’ He was already proving it and then some. 

I heart-reacted the post and started to write a comment on it. 

‘This was the sweetest thing anyone has ever written about me, Elijah. I am so thankful for you, and so grateful to have met you tonight. We must really think alike, because I opened my app to do this same thing. I was planning on saying something so sincere and meaningful, but now. How can anything compare to what you’ve written?  

You’re the most compassionate soul I’ve ever met — gentle, eloquent, and somehow both sophisticated and down-to-Earth all at once.

I look forward to our story. I hope it’s the longest story I’ve ever written. I have faith it will be the gentlest, happiest story of my life filled with laughter and joy . 

I am going to sleep a very happy woman this morning and that’s because of you. I owe you the world after tonight. <3’ 

After his post, I was hoping my comment wouldn’t be too much. How could it be after the words he’d written? The second thing I’d wanted to do before falling asleep – I wanted to write in my journal the true depth of what I felt tonight. I always kept it in the bed just beside me so it was the last thing I did before falling asleep. 

I always thought of it as a way of letting go of everything that had happened in the day that was ending, so when I awoke in the morning, I was new again. As I opened the leather bound journal, I wrote ‘April 5th, 2023 – your thirtieth birthday,’ in my fanciest calligraphy.



I stared at it for a few moments to absorb the fact that he’d be thirty years old today. I wonder what he’d look like now. Would he have aged a day since twenty-three? Seven birthdays now he had missed – that he’d been robbed out of. 

‘I had made the decision to kill myself tonight. To anyone who might ever peer into this book that is a reflection of the depths of my soul, you’d know the decision wasn’t spur of the moment. Not entirely, anyway. Life has just become too heavy to bear. 

Despite texting with Dadie, I still found myself alone on the boat dock at the riverfront, crying. I sobbed to the stars above. I begged, and I pleaded for some type of sign from above that things were going to be okay. I prayed for some type of sign that would let me know that just maybe life was going to be okay. 

My entire life I’ve felt like I’m just existing instead of truly living. I’ve felt like I’m missing out on some sort of purpose. Some sort of destiny. An epic story all my own that others might be envious of. I wished upon the stars for them to reveal that destiny to me. I cried to Nick. Today would be his thirtieth birthday, and I just didn’t think I could live through this day without him. 

I don’t know if it was God or if it was Nick himself but I prayed for a red bird and one appeared. I heard footsteps coming onto the dock behind me and for once in my life, I wasn’t afraid. I was a semi-young woman sitting on a dock all alone in the middle of the night and a man was coming towards her. Anything could have happened. 

His name is Elijah Mikaelson. I’ve never met another person like him. He mesmerizes me, he enchants me. Every time I try to look away from him, the urge to look back towards him is overwhelming. He speaks as if he’s from another time, and he’s got to be the most well dressed man I’ve ever laid eyes on. 

Not to mention the most attractive. His dark hair is short, but not too short and he has the silkiest of chocolate brown eyes. He has a bit of a British accent, almost like one you’d pick up if you went to four or six years of school over in London before moving back to America. 

Elijah looks to be in his forties, but he never did divulge his age to me tonight. He’s not married, he said he’s been waiting around for the right woman. And after meeting me – he wants to find out if I might be the one he’s waited his whole life for. 

When we touched for the first time, the biggest static shock of my life happened. These little blue sparks danced at our fingertips and I just couldn’t explain it. I don’t even know if Elijah noticed the sparks. 

I didn’t dare say it to him, but it was as if we’d touched before. Every time I looked into his eyes, it’s as if I’d gazed into them a hundred years ago. I’ve had so many dreams throughout my life of epic love and I wonder, could that love have been Elijah all along? 

I know this all sounds crazy, especially after just knowing someone for a few hours. You’re my journal, you know my track record with men. Red flag after red flag — after even bigger, more psychotic red flag. But this one? I’m desperate to get to know him better. 

I pray for him to be the greenest flag that’s ever walked into my life. Tonight, I feel like we made a real genuine connection. The kind that a person may only make once or twice in their life if they’re lucky. I know a lot of tonight was just pretty words but, Elijah’s the first man that I think will actually come through with actions to back up those pretty words. 

He says he’ll take me on a date this Saturday night, but I pray I can see him sooner than that. I know it’s too soon. Too fast. The same reckless path I always take—but it feels so right. 

I can’t explain why it feels so right, it just does. It feels cosmic with him, it feels like he’s the doorway to my destiny. I want things to be different with him, and I want things to be right. I want him to be the real deal more than anything I’ve ever wanted in my life. 

Elijah said what they all have said — ‘I’m different from the rest.’ But Elijah seems like he’s actually going to prove it, and that’s the part that I cannot wait to experience. As I sit here in bed and write this, I find myself craving him in ways I’ve never craved another human being. 

We walked around downtown hand-in-hand, sat by the fountain, and then in the gazebo. Without hesitation, he took our first photo together, which was something no man had ever done before him. Elijah insisted I’d never be a ‘secret.’ In fact, he sent the photo right away to his siblings, who he insisted meant more to him than anything. A ‘family man’ was always a good man. 

As a genealogist, I had to really appreciate Elijah’s connection with his family. I was envious of all his siblings. I was an only child and obviously, as you well know my faithful journal, my childhood wasn’t always that great. 

After he walked me back to my car, before I could slip inside, we shared our first kiss together. It was unlike any kiss I’d ever had. First, Elijah asked for my permission to do so. Despite his asking, I knew it had been written all over my face. I wanted to kiss him so badly. 

And when our lips did touch, I felt forever in his kiss, journal. I’d never felt like that with anyone else – not even with Nick, as painful as that was for me to admit to myself tonight. It’s not that I never wanted forever with Nick, because I did. I still do. But maybe my soul knew that forever would never be possible with him, and now maybe my soul knows my forever was meant for Elijah Mikaelson. 

Signed, yours truly. V. G. K.’ 

I wanted to stay awake long enough to read any comments that might appear on Elijah’s Facebook post—and more importantly, to talk to Elijah—but sleep finally overcame me. It had been a long night, after all. 

When I awoke around noon, I was convinced everything had been a dream. I laid in bed and played over everything I could remember in such vivid detail. I’d never dreamed in such detail before. It couldn’t have been real. Things like that just – they just don’t happen to me. 

I’m nothing. I’m no one. If it wasn’t for having bad luck, I’d have absolutely no luck at all. I’d told myself that for so long that I believed it with every fiber of my mortal being.



Zira, one of my oldest girls, was in bed with me and I found myself petting her with one hand and reaching for my phone with the other. When I touched my phone, I fully expected to see the photo of Dadie and I together still set as my background, and when it was the photograph of Elijah and me – I was startled to say the very least. 

The rush of last night suddenly hit me like it was brand new. I felt my breath catch in my chest and my heartbeat was suddenly in my throat. I had the worst case of butterflies I’d ever felt before. I remembered back to what it felt like the first moment Elijah Mikaelson touched me. The static electricity that had jolted me and the way it felt to hold his hand. I remembered the sound of his voice and the smell of his cologne. 

I remembered what it felt like to be in his protective but delicate embrace. Then, I felt my lips tingle – no, they quivered and ached at remembering what it felt like to kiss him and be kissed in return. It hadn’t been a dream. I kept repeating that to myself — it hadn’t been a dream. 

When I opened Facebook, there was indeed a flood of comments on Elijah’s post - the one he’d made before I fell asleep. ‘A real gentleman for you, finally!’ were the sentiments of many. My dating history, like I’d told Elijah, hadn’t been good. ‘You better spill some tea later!’ read a few more of the comments. 

‘Dearest brother, I’m so very happy for you,’ said Rebekah Mikaelson. I remembered Elijah saying that the two of them had a special bond. ‘A natural beauty in this artificial world. Well done, brother,’ said Klaus Mikaelson. I didn’t want to admit it out loud to Elijah but – his siblings. They were drop dead gorgeous in their profile pictures. Did an ugly person exist in his family tree? 

‘I’m just waking up, but thought I’d say a quick thank you to everyone! I never thought I’d receive such an outpouring of love.’ I commented. I looked at my notifications and had more friend requests now. Marcel Gerard, Hayley Marshall, Joshua Rosza, Vincent Griffith, Camille O’Connell, Caroline Forbes-Lockwood, Tyler Lockwood, Stefan Salvatore. They all were mutual friends with the Mikaelson’s.  

I wondered how many of my friends had sent Elijah a friend request? I went to Elijah’s profile and noticed two had added him already — Lacy and Susanna, the two I definitely believed would. I bet there would be more by the end of the day. 

All of my friends were protective over me, especially after the rock bottoms I’ve hit in the last few years from the losers I’ve dated. I really wasn’t joking when I said I had the worst luck in the love department. 

I found myself wondering if Lacy or Susanna had messaged Elijah and said anything to him. They were certainly the type to do that. Butterflies started to flutter in my stomach just thinking of the possibilities of what could have been said to him. I was starting to realize that maybe I was too happy. Perhaps I was too high on cloud nine this morning. 

I never woke up to a good day like this. Well, if I had — it had been so long ago that I barely remembered what it felt like. Where was the butterfly effect — the Hell that would come all too soon after Heaven? When was the happiness going to crash down? I hated to sound like a pessimistic penny but I was waiting for the other shoe to drop. This happiness wasn’t going to last, was it?

My phone buzzed when a text came through. ‘Good morning, beautiful. I hope you slept well.’ My comment on his photo must have alerted him that I was awake. I smiled as I replied. 



‘Good morning. I did sleep pretty well, I wonder why that could be.’ I sent the ‘hmm’ emoji along with my text. ‘I slept wonderfully as well. Must be something in the water here,’ he responded with the ‘hmm’ emoji, too. I liked that he was keeping up with my personality and banter. 

A sense of humor had always been something that won me over with guys. If you could make me laugh, like a real gut-busting laugh. Well, my heart was yours and completely yours. 

I was about to send another text when my phone began to ring. Suddenly, the photograph of us which I had sat as his contact photo came onto my screen. Naturally, I answered at once. 

“Hey there.” I said while trying to sound cool. “Forgive me, Miss LaRue, but I wanted to hear your voice,” his silky smooth voice came through the phone. Even as I laid in bed, my knees felt weak. My heart was in my throat again, making it difficult to speak or to even breathe. 

“I also wanted the extreme honor to be the first person you’ve spoken with today,” he mused. “Aww, I’m sorry, but you're not,” I teased and heard his fake gasp. “Sorry, but Zira here already said meow to me, so.” We both laughed. 

“Well, I must confess. I’ve already been in one meeting this morning, and of course, I had to talk on the phone to Rebekah for a while last night,” Elijah admitted. 

“She seems really nice. Everyone's been so kind and welcoming.” My voice trailed off, that old ache starting to coil inside me again. They didn’t know me yet. I’m nothing special. I never have been. They’d all realize that soon enough, as soon as the ‘new’ wore off of me. It always did. 

“I called Rebekah on the walk back to the bed and breakfast, while I waited for you to make it home safely. I guess you could say my sister Rebekah is my diary of sorts,” he chuckled. 

“I’ve got a few best friends that are wanting the tea in texts or a call later,” I admitted. “Yes, a few have added me to Facebook. In fact, one messaged me and was quite blunt — she said if I were to hurt you, I’m a dead man,” he sounded so amused on the other end of the phone. 

“That would have to be Susanna,” I guessed and of course I was correct. “I like seeing that you have some protective best friends, Miss LaRue. I assured her as I tried to assure you last night, you’re safe with me.” 

The more he said that, the more I believed him. “I guess your day will be busy with meetings huh?” I questioned and started to rise up in bed. Part of me felt like I’d been asleep for a week, and another part felt like I hadn’t slept but maybe for an hour, tops. I wanted to go back to sleep, just to make the hours go quicker until I could go on a date with Elijah on Saturday. 

But I had work to do. Family tree binders weren’t going to finish themselves. “Until late this evening, I’m afraid. I’m sure your work hours are similar, or else we could potentially plan a date for sooner,” Elijah suggested. 

“K-kind of a perk of being my own boss,” I spoke so quickly, I was stumbling over myself. “I can work whenever and wherever, as long as my laptop is charged up. B-but I’m really looking forward to Saturday. It’ll be the most exciting Easter weekend in a long time,” I admitted.

“I actually have a wonderful idea, Miss LaRue, and I hope you’ll say yes. But it might be a bit too soon, and much too forward. I’d like to ask you in person, though, and sooner than a date on Saturday. Would you like to take a walk with me when I’m finished with everything tonight?” 



Elijah’s question had taken me very much by surprise. Like a 99-yard return touchdown pass kind of surprise. My heart just about leaped completely out of my chest. “Tonight? I—I’d love to. Do you want me to come downtown again?” I asked. “That’s an option, or I could come to you,” he proposed. 

I didn’t want him to see my house. I was rather ashamed of it. I knew I shouldn’t be, but, a man like Elijah? A man who had a perfectly tailored suit on? I was afraid he’d judge me rather harshly for the way we lived. 

“How about the cemetery next to my house? As a matter of fact, I know quite a lovely spot. I could drop you a pin in messages later this evening, so you could meet me at that exact spot. Maybe around seven, if you’re done by then?” 

Now that I think about it, I was rather excited to show Elijah one of my most favorite spots in the cemetery that I’d practically grown up in. I was excited to show Elijah a lot of things and to share a lot of experiences with him. Next to quality time and physical touch, it was probably my biggest love language.

“Seven sounds perfect, Miss LaRue. Send me the pin now and I’ll let you know later if I can slip away sooner than that.” I did just as he requested, sending him the pin while we were still on the phone. “What is your day going to consist of, beautiful?” He questioned, changing to a lighter topic. 

“Get some coffee in me, I think, and get to work on this family history binder for a client. She paid me in 2021. Binders take so long to make and I do them on a first paid, first done basis so, there were a few ahead of her,” I explained. 

“It sounds like you’re a bit of a hot commodity.” I didn’t think of myself that way, not really. But I guess, Elijah might be right. “Considering I’ve got three more binders to do after hers, you just might be right.” I laughed. 

“It sounds like you need to get to work, then. I’ll see you tonight, Vandalia.” When he used my first name instead of ‘Miss LaRue,’ it made those butterflies in my stomach swarm even harder. I could hear it in his voice — he didn’t want to get off the phone with me, and I didn’t want to get off the phone, either. 

We both had a life to live today though. Elijah had meetings and I had genealogy rabbit holes to go down. In my mind, both were equally as important as the other. When we initially started talking to one another last night, Elijah had implied he was on a vacation from work. As our talks grew more in-depth, he revealed that although he was on vacation, meetings still had to be attended. 

It turned out Elijah didn’t just ‘throw a dart’ and it land on Henderson. I was a little saddened to to learn that. He did, however, tell me that it nearly was the case. A few of the meetings he was meant to be having today, they could have ended up as far away as New York City — talk about a long drive. He’d insisted they find ‘somewhere to meet in the middle.’ Henderson ended up being that ‘middle.’ 

As I recalled that detail, I couldn’t help but feel a wave of luck wash over me. This is what good luck felt like. If Elijah hadn’t been able to move that meeting closer to his home — he would have never been in my hometown. He wouldn’t have been there at the right time to save my life last night.

“See you tonight, Elijah.” My voice was soft and I was gnawing on my bottom lip. We said goodbye to one another and hung up. I couldn’t stop myself from laying back on my pillow and looking up at the dark ceiling in my bedroom. What could he be wanting to ask me? 



I knew I’d get nothing accomplished lying here in bed, though. I finally got myself up and first off, took a shower. Still, my thoughts swirled around Elijah the entire time. As the warm water fell like a waterfall on my back, I slipped my eyes shut and imagined him in ways I probably shouldn’t. 



I lost myself in thoughts of what it would be like, if I could be with him right this very moment. The way he’d push the curtain aside and step into the steam, water cascading over the kind of body I’d only fantasized about — lean muscle, smooth skin, maybe a few scars. Maybe not. I didn’t even have a clue what he’d look like without clothing on, but I had a good imagination. 

It was then that my insecurities started to swirl. What would he think of me being naked? The stretch marks that adorned my breasts and my stomach, even my thighs and ass? I wasn’t beautiful. Not like that. I wasn’t worthy of him. I’d never be a trophy girlfriend — not the kind men like him were supposed to show off. 

I had so many insecurities, it wasn’t even funny. Last night though, I kept thinking back to the way Elijah had called me a literal Goddess. My hair wasn’t done up, my makeup wasn’t on, and I sure wasn’t wearing anything cute – and yet he still thought I was beautiful enough to be compared to a Goddess. 

Either he was the blindest man I’d ever met or he was the most honest and genuine man in the world. I sure was hoping and praying that he was the latter of the two options. I was tired of men looking at me through rose colored glasses. 

After getting out of the shower, I slipped on my bathrobe and padded to the kitchen. I pulled an iced coffee from the fridge, still drying off as I opened my laptop at the table and got to work. 



After about an hour of work, I decided to take a break — first and foremost to finally get dressed, and then to utilize my ‘diary’ of sorts — sending a voice message to my best friend and soulmate, Dadie. 

‘Hey bitch. I’m finally getting dressed for the day and taking a little break from work. I thought I’d send you a voice message and catch you up on what all happened last night. 

I’m really, really sorry I didn’t respond anymore to you last night. I really was in a dark place, and I know you already know that. I ended up at the riverfront sometime after ten. Just sat there, on the dock, for what felt like forever. 

I can't lie to you, of all people. I thought about jumping into the water several different times. I know that wouldn’t have solved anything, and it just would have caused more pain on people who love me, like you. You know if I ever do anything stupid, it’s never to hurt you. That would never be the reason. 

I don’t want you to ever feel like you’ve failed me as a friend or as anything more than that. I’m just – I’m a broken human being and sometimes I break even more from time to time. Last night was one of those nights. 

I talked to the stars for a long time. I talked to Nick a lot. I don’t know if you saw the post I was tagged in but, right after I prayed for Nick to give me a sign, the most charming man I’ve ever met in my life appeared and joined me on the dock. 

His name is Elijah Mikaelson and he’s in town partly on business and partly on vacation. I swear he’s unlike any other man I’ve ever met, and this time, I really mean it. It’s like he’s from another time entirely — like he doesn’t belong in this century. We spent a couple of magical hours downtown before I finally had to say goodnight. We talked and talked and talked. 

He never got bored of my talk about genealogy or Henderson, and I never got tired of anything he had to say. It was as easy and as effortless as you and I talk, babe. There wasn’t an ounce of judgment from him, even when I admitted that I was contemplating suicide when he found me. I really do feel like he was sent to me by Nick. I know that sounds so crazy but I believe it with all my heart. 

We walked the riverfront and some of Central Park. When he put me in the car to say goodnight – we shared our first kiss. I couldn’t even breathe. My whole body lit up — I’ve never felt anything like it in my life. When we first touched, just a simple hand shake — I saw blue static, like static electricity. That’s so odd, isn’t it? Especially for this time of year. 

I feel like I’ve known him my entire life somehow. It’s the strangest but best sensation I’ve ever experienced. He wants to get to know me better. 

We’re going to see each other again tonight. I haven’t replied to anyone else’s messages. I’ve not gushed about him to anyone else yet. I told him about you, he saw our photo together on my phone background. He knows you’re my bestie soul-mate. I felt like if anyone needed to know – it was you. 

I know you’ll probably listen to this after you get off work tonight. At that point, I’ll probably be out with him. If I don’t reply again, I’m sure I’ll at least post something on Facebook. 

I guess I’ll quit rambling on now. I really am better now than I was last night, so much better. I love you and I’ll message you again when I can.’ 



I hit send on the five minute long voice message and as much as my brain didn’t want to, I settled back into a long afternoon of genealogy work.

Despite the music that played in the background and the lineages I traced, getting lost in the stories of the dead — all I could think about was the man who made me feel alive again.

(5,925 words – roughly 25 pages.)

Notes:

Hello again my loyal readers! Sorry for the delay in getting Chapter Three posted over here. A few days ago, I made the decision that this story is strictly going to appear over here on AO3 instead of continuing to update it on FFnet as well. FFnet has proved to be a pain in the behind compared to what the site used to be 10+ years ago. So Chapters 1 & 2 are available over there to whet the palate of potential readers. In my bio over there, I added that they can find future chapters of A&F here on AO3. :) For those that followed from over there to here -- thank you SO much.

I want to stress once more, my story moves at the pace of snail-snot on a cold December day. I've thoroughly enjoyed writing it the way I am, though. I love first person and I love changing points of view with every chapter. I also use a lot of AI art (some chapters more than others), and part of me wants to apologize for that. I'm rubbish at art, I always have been. The pen has always been my paintbrush, paper (or a computer screen lol) my canvas, and words my method of artwork. AI (Bing/Grok) has helped bring the vision of the scene in my head to "life" if you will.

I also want to take a moment to note that in this chapter, you'll see several photos of my character with a tortie cat named Zira. I can't tell you how glad I was that Grok could make images of my character with a tortie. This story is set in April of 2023, but unfortunately on November 8th, 2024, my ten year old Zira passed away. So now more than ever, I am so happy that I have her mentioned in this story. If any of you would like to see the real Zira - I'm not sure AO3 will let me link to Find-a-Grave, but I made her a memorial over there. Just search the name "Zira Mefford" and you'll find her. She was a truly beautiful, unique, and once in a lifetime kitty.

I hope y'all continue to enjoy this story with me and that you're all looking forward to the many twists and turns this story will take in future.

This story has a playlist that goes with it on Spotify - every song in the playlist relates to the song in one way or another.
https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5vxkLYvWEGgrkWbLFdN42h

Chapter 4: Elijah's Point of View

Summary:

“Beneath the blooming magnolia, I stood face to face with the one thing I dared not believe in — something true.”

Chapter Four:

The Shape of Something True: Magnolias in Bloom

Vandalia hadn’t left my mind since the moment I first saw her last night. The entire walk back to the bed and breakfast where I was staying, I’d spoken to my sister Rebekah on the phone. I hadn’t slept much this morning at all - I think I managed two hours at the very most. 

Even in the rare moments I slept, I dreamed of her—trivial, mundane things but somehow when I awoke, the things I’d dreamed had brought me such joy. I dreamed of sitting down to Easter dinner with her on Sunday, my whole family and all of our relations around the table. I dreamed of the way she’d talk with them and get to know each one of them. 

I dreamed of having her in my arms on the balcony off the den that overlooked Bourbon Street at sunrise. I dreamed of giving her that first kiss in the morning and somehow, I knew her lips would taste like the sweetest of coffees. 

For once in my life, I dreamed of possibility . I had so much hope for the first time in centuries, really. Maybe, maybe it was the first time ever, truly. I had a feeling Vandalia wouldn’t just change my life, but all of ours.

Rebekah had reminded me that this weekend was Easter — a family affair, and family was everything to me. If not for meeting Vandalia, I’d have wrapped up my business in Henderson by Friday and I’d have left back home to New Orleans without a second thought. 

Less than twelve hours ago, this town meant nothing to me—and its people, even less. I came here to do business and do whatever it took to get the results I needed, and then I met a raven-haired beauty on the dock, gazing up to the stars and begging them for help — and that changed my entire life. 

‘She’s young and human, dearest brother. She has mortal ties to that town and she shouldn’t be asked to give them up. At least, not for a very long time,’ Rebekah had stated. She was absolutely right. In my eyes, Vandalia was still young at thirty years old. She had parents, she had friends, and she had a life here in this town. She had a name, a life, and a reputation as a small business owner. I couldn’t just whisk her away from all of that in the blink of an eye.

So, even if she fell in love with New Orleans — while she was mortal, this was her home. Vandalia didn’t know what I was and what a future with me could really entail for her, so for now, I had to treat this as – I would be her great love and one day… One day she’d die, as all mortals do. That thought pained me to my very core, but it was the natural order of things. Myself? I was unnatural. 

I was preparing myself for a happy life with Vandalia, maybe fifty years or more if we were lucky. She would age and she would grow old while I remained frozen. Unless, perhaps, she made a different decision for herself. That would never be a decision I’d make for her, not unless – no. I wouldn’t let myself think of those possibilities. I wouldn’t entertain those thoughts—not seriously. Not yet.

Despite what I had said to my sister, Rebekah, on the phone this morning – the thoughts that had swirled in my head of taking Vandalia by the hand and taking her to New Orleans where I could turn her and our real love story could begin — I couldn’t do it. I wouldn’t do it. Not to her. She deserved better. 

Vandalia wasn’t awake yet, and I had some time to kill before the business meeting — so I turned to my other diary. My journal. I needed to write down the thoughts about her that were as fresh in my mind as if they had only happened a moment ago, but in reality it had been seven or so hours ago. 

‘April 5th, 2023 , early morning hours of — a small but quaint town called Henderson, Kentucky.’ My entry began. 



‘A few days ago, we received news through a rather lengthy grapevine that some rogue werewolves in the lower Ohio Valley were trying to gather and rally strength to go against the packs of New Orleans. Especially the main one in power. 

The Crescent’s.

That not only meant Jackson and Hayley, but it also meant my brother, Niklaus, and by extension – our entire Mikaelson family. We returned to New Orleans ten years ago now in 2013, and with the exception of only my brother Kol and sister-in-law Davina, we had not left. Well, the odd and end trip to Mystic Falls, Virginia, had occurred over the last ten years but not much else. 

The world had grown comfortable in their belief that the Originals cared not for anything but New Orleans. Perhaps a part of their belief was true — we did care for New Orleans and our love for our home meant we would protect it at any cost. 

Even if that meant leaving New Orleans for an extended time to hunt down threats. At first, my brother, Niklaus wanted to deal with these rogue wolves himself. I knew that would be unwise. 

Niklaus often killed without getting down to the root of a problem. Niklaus’s methods, more often than not, were ‘kill now, talk later.’ But only in certain cases can the dead do any talking. Niklaus’s methods were simply not effective at times. 

No, I knew it was my place to come to this nothing-to-do town on the Ohio River and take care of this threat myself. I would be effective, and leaving Niklaus in New Orleans meant that our family was safer, hard as that may be for me to admit, even in writing. 

When I arrived, it was late. I checked into a local bed and breakfast and then I went for a midnight stroll under the full moon, letting my ears and senses guide me towards any werewolf business. As I stood at the top of the riverfront, my ears started to pick up the voice of a young woman and I could tell that she was in distress. She was crying, and she was pleading to something or to someone.

'Are all the stories true? Are the stars the gateway of our loved ones looking down on us from above? Can you see me, can you hear me? I’d give anything to see you… to hear you.’ 

Her voice. It was like listening to an angel from above speak. Even though she was in the midst of great sadness, her voice was lyrical and it drew me in almost like a song from a siren. I found myself being pulled closer to her. 

‘I could use a red bird right now. I need a sign that everything’s going to be okay. I need someone up there to let me know that this rollercoaster I’m on isn’t always going to keep taking low dips. That eventually it’s going to even out and start going up, and maybe stay up for a while,' I listened as she continued to plead with the stars above our heads. 

‘I’m trying to keep the faith , and I’m trying to find joy in every little moment, but it’s hard. Everything is hard right now and I just feel like I’m suffocating. I feel like I’m drowning beneath the undertow or burning in the hottest of hellfires.’ 

I drew even closer, confident I remained unseen and unheard — I was a vampire, and she was a simple human. Listening to her plight, though. I longed to help her. I longed to know her. I shouldn’t have felt the way I did. I should have felt like having a midnight snack. 

But I was a fixer. I was the most broken of all my siblings, including Niklaus, and I longed to fix myself by finding other broken people and fixing them. I’d done it even before I was a vampire, and now, the desire to do so was further amplified. 

I kept thinking about what Niklaus would have done had he come across this young woman on the dock. I guarantee he’d have drank from her with no remorse, and dumped her body right off of the end of the dock she sat upon. I was a vampire, that’s what I should have done as well. 

Then she looked at me. 

For the first time in a thousand years, I felt like the entire world stopped turning. I felt as if time stood still the moment her saddened eyes met mine. They were the most enchanting of green and the moonlight was hitting them and her flesh just perfectly. 

She was the most beautiful creature I’d ever laid eyes upon. No woman in ten centuries — not even a Petrova — could compare to her beauty. I was absolutely mesmerized. 

I came closer still and surprisingly, she invited me. We introduced ourselves, and the moment I touched Vandalia LaRue – the strangest thing I’d ever experienced happened. It was as if a surge of magic went through me. This ordinary girl from a little river town in Kentucky and I was spellbound to her. 

Though her last name was LaRue, she was no witch. I sensed no magic. I smelled no supernatural abilities. She was mortal, yet she held me so tightly that I dared not try to pull away. I didn’t want to, anyway. 

I listened to the way her heart sounded and I listened to her confessions of wanting to kill herself. I listened to a part of her life story and how many times she’d been kicked down, thinking she was unable to get back up. 

I've always been a fixer of broken things and I wanted nothing more in that moment than to fix the most incredible woman I’d ever stumbled across. We walked. We sat. We talked and by the end of the night, I felt as if I had pulled her out from the pit of despair she’d been in when we first met mere hours before. 

Then I did perhaps the stupidest—or the smartest—thing I’ve ever done — I kissed her. I sit here writing hours after the fact and yet I still feel her lips upon mine. I can taste her on my lips, and it makes a pain throb in my chest. I can still smell her scent beneath my nose. I hear her voice ringing in my ears. 

There is a part of me that feels as if I am suffocating without being near her. To know her is to love her and although I know hardly anything about this young woman, Vandalia, I was already falling in love with her. 

Of course, I phoned Rebekah and as any sister should, she exercised caution. This young woman has no idea what I am or what type of world she has stumbled into just by meeting me. I want to keep her safe. I already know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that I would kill for her, and I would die for her — happily, might I add. 

But I’ve never thirsted for another creature as much as I crave her. I’ve never fought blood-lust harder than I had a few hours ago and it makes me chuckle, honestly, that she has no idea. She has no idea the constant danger she was in. Especially after our kiss. I wanted to sink my fangs into the soft pale flesh at her neck. She’ll never know how badly I craved it.

I could kill her and she has no idea how easily. I could so easily give her the death that she was wishing for only a few hours ago. But the thought of it now, it almost made me sick to my stomach. What if I had been too late in finding her on that dock? What if I couldn’t have pulled her from that cold water and saved her life?

I have to have her. I have to have her. Always and forever.'

When I finished writing, it was time to return to the present. The business meeting Vandalia knew about—but not the true purpose behind—was the first step toward building a future here in Henderson, Kentucky.

A future with her, because I knew, at the core of everything I am—she was worth it. Even if it meant enduring my brother’s ire for a few decades... or a century. She would be worth every second.

By various means, I had managed to acquire the most expensive, most luxurious home in the county. There were flashier options—perhaps even a house or two that outshone this one in splendor. But this one had privacy. Seclusion. Potential.



Upon my initial inspection, however, it failed to meet the full measure of my standards. Grand, yes. Pricey, certainly. But it fell short in its finer details. It lacked in square footage and it just didn't have the Mikaelson grandiosity that I had expected it to have. It was, however, a fantastic start.



So, before I would ever allow Vandalia to see this symbol of my intentions — my desire for a future with her, and before she ever learned I’d purchased it — it needed a transformation. The interior needed refining. The grounds, redesigning. The landscaping was a bit dull, by my standards.

I envisioned a large fountain at the front of the estate, a koi pond nearby. Rows of flowering trees, sculpted hedges, and curated shrubbery. A proper driveway that would complement the property extravagantly. In the back: a grand swimming pool, a cabana, and an outdoor kitchen.

Perhaps I would go so far as a private lake. Horse stables, too. My siblings and I had always enjoyed riding — and this was Kentucky, after all. Why not indulge that shared passion with Vandalia? Animals seemed dear to her. A horse of her own might make her genuinely happy.

I  was no stranger to living like a King, and I most certainly wanted Vandalia to be my Queen.

It was Wednesday, April 5th, and I had told the renovators that by the morning of Friday, April 21st, I wanted my Shangri-La to be complete. It was an absurd amount of work and an even more absurd amount of time but, it would be done.

Still, I didn’t want it to be just mine.

When Vandalia finally saw it — and if she agreed to live there with me, to make me the happiest man on Earth — I wanted it to feel like her home too. Her choices. Her touches. Anything she wanted changed, I’d make it happen. In less than a heartbeat.

After our phone call, I turned my attention to the real reason I was in Henderson. There was a werewolf faction gaining traction — challenging the Crescents, Jackson and Hayley; and perhaps more importantly, my brother, Niklaus. They weren’t just recruiting wolves, but witches, too. Whatever they were planning, it had to be stopped by whatever means necessary.

An Original hadn’t left New Orleans in quite sometime. It was as if the rest of the world had grown comfortable, thinking that we had reclaimed New Orleans and it was all we cared about. Thinking ridiculously that we wouldn’t leave our sanctuary and seek them out if we needed to. 

It was time to remind these rogue factions that the Originals still very much exist. It was time to remind the world that we Mikaelson's were Gods among men. And that’s exactly what I did. 



Later that evening, my phone rang. “Well, brother, how did you fare?” Unsurprisingly, it was Niklaus. “Very well,” I replied. “A few loose ends tomorrow and it should be finished,” I explained. “Excellent. We’re ready to have you home,” he added.

“I’ve been away no more than twenty-four hours, dear brother," I teased. "Already you act as if I’ve left for half a millennium,” I continued. The two of us had always been close, and the last handful of years had only brought us closer. “You’ve said it best yourself, Elijah — you have to take care of everyone and everything,” he mocked me, his tone playful in nature. 

I was not about to play a game of coyness with my brother. I kept no secrets from him. Despite Rebekah warning me of his potential temper tantrum after I sent that photograph of Vandalia and me to the group chat, I would speak of her openly — whether Niklaus welcomed it or not. 

“I’m going to ask her tonight if she’ll come to New Orleans for Easter and stay for a bit. I think it would do her a lot of good,” I admitted, not even saying her name. There was no warrant to do so -- not when I had announced her to the family the way I had at the end of the night.

We all viewed Niklaus as the unofficial head of the family. His approval still mattered to me even if I planned to do whatever I wanted at the end of the day. I thought that highly of my brother as much as it surprised me. It would likely surprise Niklaus even more. 

“Is she really this special to you already, Elijah?” My younger brother asked, a tone of surprise in his voice. There was a hint of something else, too. Jealousy, perhaps.  

“I think you’ll understand it when you meet her,” I replied. “I’m waiting for that moment on pins and needles,” said Niklaus with a certain inflection in his voice. I got the sense that he really wasn’t kidding. 

It seemed that my interest in Vandalia was the topic amongst all of us Mikaelson’s. I hadn’t allowed myself to feel these things since Hayley and well, that was long over. We were just friends with a long history. 

“It’s about time you found some happiness, brother,” my half-brother’s words almost startled me. “Thank you, Niklaus. Maybe your happiness is just around the corner,” I mused. My brother hadn’t had a proper relationship in centuries. No, everyone he fell for unfortunately didn’t pan out the way he wanted. Caroline, Hayley, Camille – just to name three. 

“And perhaps I’ll have a pet unicorn by the time you return,” he teased with a chuckle. Niklaus was an eternal pessimist whereas I had always been an optimist. We complement one another that way. When my head would be too unrealistically up in the clouds, Niklaus would bring me back down to the ground. When Niklaus was at the bottom of a bottle with no hope left inside him, I would pick him up again. That’s the way it had been for the last thousand years.

When we got off the phone with one another, it was a quarter to seven. I quickly texted Vandalia — ‘I’m on my way.’ I had no transportation in this town besides my own two legs. I had been using my vampyric speed ninety percent of the time. I utilized it some now, but slowed before she would catch a glimpse of me. I didn’t want her to find out what I was before I had a chance to sit down and tell her. 



Within moments, I reached the cemetery and slowed to a more human pace. I could smell the beautiful aroma of a Magnolia tree. I was familiar with them from back home. I found myself walking in the direction of it. At the top of the hill, a large obelisk grave stood beneath the Magnolia tree. The inscription read the surname: 'Gayle.'

“It’s my favorite tree in the cemetery. The smell is heavenly,” Vandalia’s voice surprised me as she stepped from around the tombstone. To sneak up on an Original Vampire, well — that required more than just talent. It required a kind of magic all her own.



“I’m quite fond of Magnolias myself, Miss LaRue. We have a southern variety down in New Orleans. But, I must admit, it’s nowhere near as beautiful as this one. Please, if you don’t mind.” 

I pulled my phone out to take some photos of her beneath the gorgeous Magnolia. Her cheeks were tinted a sublime shade of pink, perfectly mirrored by the magnolia blossoms above her. I noticed this evening that she was wearing a bit of makeup. Tonight, she wore a gorgeous green blouse and fitted blue jeans that hugged every curve. 

I took several photographs of her, all the while, complimenting her. “Your blouse matches your eyes perfectly,” and it truly did. They were very nearly the same shade of green. Only a vampire like myself could have seen the subtle differences in hue.



Afterward, I noticed Vandalia beckoning me closer to her. “I want a few photos with you,” she said softly and of course, I obliged her without hesitation.

I placed my phone on a ledge at the back of the large obelisk and had set it to take photographs in five second intervals. I didn’t care how many it took. What I cared about at that moment was her. 

Slowly, I walked to Vandalia and gazed down into her beautiful green orbs. She reached her arms up and wrapped them around my neck, to which I delicately wound my arms around her waist. 

“I missed you,” Vandalia breathed out in a whisper. “I missed you more,” I murmured, leaning in until my lips hovered just above hers.



“You’re all I think about, Vandalia,” I whispered before catching her lips in the most tender of kisses. I let my eyes close and I lost myself in the moment with her. I couldn’t hear the birds any longer, I couldn’t hear anything besides our heartbeats and our breathing. 



An average vampire might have lost control — but I was an Original with centuries of practice. I knew that if I gave into the temptation of tasting her, I might never want to stop — she smelled that divine. But her heartbeat would cease, as would her breathing and those sounds were too heavenly to me to let them end. 

Before the kiss could break, I picked Vandalia up into my arms with the utmost ease. It didn’t phase her at all, our lips never parted. Slowly, I backed her up against the Magnolia tree. There was a part of me that no longer wished to be a gentleman with Vandalia. She was awakening feelings in me that had long been buried for many years. 

I guess any man who had ‘epic loves,’ the way I had in my thousand some-odd years of life – you think back to all the epic stories you’ve lived through and you wonder if you’ve ever felt like this before. You tell yourself you’ve felt this before — but you haven’t. Not like this.

I kept thinking back to something Katerina Petrova or ‘Katherine Pierce’ had once said to me. ‘True love is not real unless it is returned.’ Katerina had been correct.

I had loved a great deal in the last thousand years, but none of it had ever been returned like it had been with Hayley, for a short time; and now the possibility of it with Vandalia. 

I thought back to all of the best chapters of my life. My family and what we were, that was always what ruined the perfect chapters. Some would argue we were demons — monsters, incapable of love, or of being loved.

Vandalia deserved better than a monster. I would never be that to her. I would never be that with her. Still, as much as I told myself that – my track record could prove the promise wrong. I’d do whatever I could in my power to not let that happen. 

Slowly, our lips parted but our foreheads remained pressed together. My eyes opened to find her green eyes gazing longingly into my own. I could swear I saw things moving in her eyes, little purple swirls. They shimmered like a thousand lives we’d already lived — or perhaps a thousand more we were fated to live together.

Maybe, still, it was a bit of both. Something last night – something has drawn me to her and I still don’t understand it. It’s as strong as compulsion, but I’m an Original — I cannot be compelled, and she is no vampire. Could this be fate after a thousand years? Could this be something cosmic? Something beyond either one of us? 

I felt her fingers running up through my hair now which was a euphoric feeling all on its own. “I can’t believe you’re real, Elijah. I—I woke up this morning and I thought it had all been a dream. The most vivid and lifelike dream I’d ever had. When I opened my phone and saw our photo together, that’s when I realized it hadn’t been just a dream. It was real. You’re real.” Her voice was full of disbelief, and she sounded as if she was going to cry. 



I slowly brought her back down onto her own two feet. I gazed down into her eyes and cupped her right cheek with my left hand. “Of course I’m real, Vandalia,” I murmured to her. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t be your dream come true, too,” I cooed. “You are,” she immediately said and put her hand upon my own that was on her cheek. 

“You’re already the best thing that’s ever happened to me. You saved me — and I haven’t felt this happy in so long." A few tears started to leak out from her eyes. “I woke up today and I had hope for the future for the first time in so long.” 

It was as if she was speaking the sentiments from my own heart, words I had written in my own journal and never uttered out loud. “I feel the same way,” I murmured and wiped the tears that had spilled from her eyes. 

“You’ve reinvigorated me and given me a whole new purpose for existing.” I let my thumb run over her pale pink lips and I longed to kiss her again, and again, and again. I’d never felt such a strong urge in my life. It was stronger than blood-lust. 

I wish she knew the extent of the feelings I had already begun developing for her. I wish I could tell her everything. I wish I could show her everything. I wanted her to know the real me. I craved for there to be no secrets between us. I wanted to know her more intimately than anyone ever had, or ever will again. 

My heart was soaring for the first time in my life, it felt like. The feeling of her blood rushing to her cheeks and how it warmed them – it made the deepest parts of me ache in need, want, and even desperation. The way light danced in her eyes - whether it was the sunlight or the moonlight. Everything about her begged me to love her like she’d never been loved before. 

That simple brush of my thumb over her lips made her heartbeat race — and stirred something primal in me I couldn’t begin to explain. Slowly, I pulled away from Vandalia and walked to the back of the tombstone, retrieving my phone. Of course, she immediately wanted to see the photos. “Ah, ah, ah,” I teased, flashing her a playful grin. 

“We can go through them together. But first, a proposition,” I offered and she raised a brow at me. “I’d like to take you to dinner tonight, since we’re both free,” I started, “and you’re wearing such a beautiful outfit. I feel selfish being the only one to see you looking so gorgeous.” 

Of course, that compliment made her face flush even redder. “How could I say no to that?” Vandalia questioned and I flashed her a pearly white smile. “I was hoping you’d say that. I imagine we have time to walk around the cemetery before dinner,” I reached out for her hand and she eagerly laced her fingers with mine. 

We walked for twenty or so minutes and I listened to her as she talked about her family – ancestors that were buried here, the history of the cemetery, and other notable figures resting within this hallowed ground. It would surprise her how many of them I knew personally at one time or another. 

I found myself entranced in everything she had to tell me. I was impressed — not just by how much she knew and how young she was, but by how she told it. Her words were stories, and I found myself craving more. I’m not sure anyone had ever held me so captivated before.



“Did you drive to the cemetery?” Vandalia asked after we’d walked a while and I chuckled. “No. I was nearby, so I just walked over.” A stretch of the truth, but a necessary one.

“We’ll take my car to go out to eat then, if that’s okay,” she suggested. “Just… I’m sorry for my house. If I had my way, it would look a lot better.” I could tell it bothered her. She seemed genuinely embarrassed, and I hated that for her. We crossed the length of the cemetery in a matter of a few minutes. 

Vandalia was right. Her home was a bit dated and weathered. It wasn’t unlivable by any means, but it needed work. Work that she and her family likely couldn’t afford right now. I watched as she stepped inside just long enough to grab a dangling car key from a hook beside the door. 

“I see you really weren’t kidding about the cats,” I teased for some lighter conversation as I looked around. The carport area was filled with them. I’d counted at least five. “The big orange is Half Pint, and the gray and white is Jace Wayland. The two that look alike? That’s Sabrina and her little brother Rip. The big fatty is Lil Bit. Vitani’s probably out here somewhere, but she stays fairly hidden because she’s sickly. Zira is probably in the house.” 

We slipped inside of her car now as she continued telling me about her cats — no, her fur-children. “Zira and Vitani are out of the same litter, and Sabrina and Rip have the same Mom - they’re from back to back litters. Probably different Dads but who knows.” I could tell that she felt her cats were her children, she was an attentive mother and very devoted. 



“Where should we go to eat?” Vandalia asked. I gave her a more softened smile. “My dear, you’re in the driver’s seat and this is your town. You take me anywhere you please.” We pulled out of her driveway and I could tell we were headed back downtown. 

“It’s my favorite place." There was something endearing to me about how openly she admitted that. "I eat here a couple times a month, if budget allows,” her voice trailed off as she parked out front of a restaurant that was right beside the riverfront — the place we met not even twenty-four hours ago. 

The sign above the door read ‘Rookies Sports Bar.’ It wasn’t my usual type of eatery but, if it was her favorite — it would quickly become mine as well, I was absolutely sure of it. 



As we walked inside, I couldn’t help but chuckle a bit. “I might be slightly overdressed,” I said to her as we slipped inside a booth, sitting across from one another. It didn’t appear that anyone was dressed as ‘fancy’ as I was. I hoped it didn’t bother her or make her feel out of place to be seen with me.

“I’m dressed-up more than I usually am,” Vandalia admitted. “Perhaps we’ll tell them we’re celebrating something,” I suggested. “But what would that be?” She asked, puzzled. “The start of a new relationship, perhaps?” I offered her and noticed the twinkle in her eye. 

“I like that,” she admitted, her cheeks turning that pale pink color once more. It was only a moment before a waitress made her way over, and it appeared she was a friend of Vandalia.



“Oh my, I think we have some catching up to do,” the waitress said in a teasing voice and I watched as Vandalia’s face flushed more. “Beth, this is Elijah,” she introduced us. 

I, however, tried to be the proper gentleman. I stood from the booth and extended my hand to the petite red-head. “Elijah Mikaelson, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” I took her hand and brought it to my lips, placing a gentle kiss there. 



Beth blinked, visibly stunned — but recovered with a laugh. It seemed I'd taken her by surprise and not rudely so. “I’m Beth O'Brien,” she said her name, her voice shaking a bit. 

After a moment, I retook my seat and she laid a couple menus in front of us. “You two are awfully dressed up. Vannie, you didn’t elope, did you?” Beth raised a brow and Vandalia started to laugh rather heartily. 

“Oh gosh no. I don’t know if you saw our photo from last night on Facebook but, we met down here late last night and I was a total wreck, practically wearing pajamas. I told him the next time I saw him, I’d put some effort in.” 

“She was an angel amongst mortals last night, just as she is tonight,” I complimented her. “Oh, I like this one. If he has a brother, send him my way,” Beth teased. “Just don’t let my husband hear me say that,” she added at the end, probably for fear I might take her seriously. Unfortunately for Beth, I had two deceased brothers, one married brother, and one half-brother that had a bit of the Devil within him. 

“Out of all the men you’ve brought in here, Vannie — this one feels different,” Beth admitted. “Ah, so I’m not the first? A pity,” I teased which made the raven-haired beauty across from me look as if she was about to faint from embarrassment. 

“I dare say we do have reasons to celebrate tonight, so how about a cocktail, Miss LaRue?” I asked her and she slowly nodded her head. “I-I like the Wildcat Punch,” she said softly and showed me the cocktail menu. 

“I’ll take your word for it. I’ll have one and a sweet tea, Miss Beth,” I ordered. Vandalia did the same, except pairing hers with a Mr. Pibb — not a drink I was familiar with, I admit. 

Beth disappeared with our drink order and I let my eyes fall to the menu. “I’m sorry if Beth embarrassed you at all,” Vandalia said softly, biting on her pierced lower lip. “Embarrassed? Why ever would I be? I felt very highly complimented,” I said quite seriously. 

“I’ve just been on a lot of dates over the past year — trying to find ‘Mr. Right,’ but mostly finding red flags. I really do come here a lot — not just on dates. My best friends like to eat here, and it’s also my Dad’s favorite,” Vandalia admitted.

“I completely understand. From the outside, I wasn’t sure I’d enjoy the atmosphere. However, I think I’d like any atmosphere as long as you’re in it,” I murmured and reached across the table, gently taking one of her hands. We laced fingers, and she squeezed my hand just a little. I think it comforted her.



“One of my biggest love languages is sharing the things I like, or love, with other people. I like to show off my favorite places, listen to my favorite songs, eat my favorite foods,” her voice trailed off as if she was shy to admit these things to me. I tucked the thought away, determined to remember everything she loved.

“I want to experience all of that, Miss LaRue, and introduce you to all of my favorites as well,” I said with a small grin appearing on my lips. I’d wanted that moment to lead up to the question I’d brought her here to ask, but suddenly, I felt it was too early for such a heavy topic. 

Beth returned with our drinks and caught us hand-in-hand. I felt a reflex in Vandalia’s hand — one that confirmed what she’d said before. Vandalia was used to men keeping her a secret, especially out in public. 

A normal human man might not have felt that reflex jerk, but I did. She tensed, waiting for me to pull away — not just waiting, expecting it. I didn’t. I never would.  “So what are you two celebrating?” Beth questioned with a grin on her lips. 



“Finding a fucking green flag for once,” Vandalia laughed and so did Beth. Perhaps the strongest, heartiest laughter I’d heard Vandalia laugh so far. “The start of happily ever after, I’m hoping,” I admitted and gave her hand a gentle squeeze for reassurance. “You know I’ve got my fingers crossed for you, girl,” Beth gave Vandalia a hug. 



We ordered our dinner - which was easy for me, I went for whatever Vandalia enjoyed most. When Beth left us again, I knew that it was at last time for the conversation I needed to have with her — at least the first part of it, anyway. 

“Last night, you asked me how long I’d be here for,” I started. A human wouldn’t have been able to sense the aura change — but I could. A flush of worry had come over her. I could only imagine the worst thoughts that were invading her mind right this very second. 

“To be honest, had we not met, I probably would have left by Friday evening. This weekend is Easter, and spending it with family means a great deal to me,” I continued. “But after meeting you? I don’t want to leave now, Vandalia,” I admitted unreservedly. The amount of truth in that statement to her hit me harder than I expected. 

I couldn’t be away from her ever again. I didn’t have the strength within myself. The weight of that realization was crushing — in the best possible way.

“I don’t want to keep you from your family. I totally forgot about Easter until our phone call. I tend to forget holidays like that if I’m being honest. We don’t do anything special for them and I don’t have kids to do all that cute holiday stuff with.” It clearly hurt her more than she let on, and I felt the ache bloom in my chest in response.



I reached over and took her hand once more for some comfort — not just for her, but for me as well. “Would you do something for me, Vandalia?” I asked her and watched as she slowly nodded her head ‘yes.’ 

I did my best to swallow down my own nervousness. “Will you come home to New Orleans with me for Easter? My siblings all want to meet you terribly, and after last night – I feel like a week or so out of town could do you good.” I was trying my hardest not to lay it on too thick or to even sound as if I was begging, but I desperately wanted her to say yes. Just thinking she might say yes made me giddy inside.

But the safest answer — the one I secretly needed — was ‘no.’ There was a part of me that needed her to say no because then I didn’t have to tell her what I was. We could just remain as we are right now in this restaurant, in this booth. Things didn’t have to change if she didn’t want them to. 

I could feel her anxiety crashing into me, wave after wave. She was scared. Conflicted. Torn between ‘yes’ and ‘no.’ It’s as if even she knew that no was the safe answer, and it was the answer I now expected. 

“I-I feel like we barely know each other, Elijah,” Vandalia whispered, “and somehow I feel we’ve known each other for a thousand years,” she murmured. I was humored inside by her choice of ‘a thousand years.’ A thousand years. She had no idea how close she was to the truth — and it made my breath catch. “I don’t know if it would be safe to take off out of town with a perfect stranger, but I’ve never felt safer with anyone in my life.” 

“I understand your reservations, and I won’t be offended in the least if you must say no,” I admitted and brought her hand up to my lips and kissed the back of it gently. 

“But I can assure you, you would be safe with me, and my family. I understand if you want to spend the holiday with your own family.” My voice trailed off and she shook her head almost immediately. My heart lifted the moment she shook her head.

“Like I said, we don’t really celebrate the holidays anymore, we haven’t in years. So I wouldn’t be missing anything. Not really, at least. My Mom would probably tell me to go, that I’m missing the opportunity of a lifetime. New Orleans has always been my number one bucket list town to go to,” Vandalia admitted.

A shiver of excitement had run up my spine at Vandalia’s admission. I loved New Orleans, and perhaps I did not show my love and pride in my city as much as my brother, Niklaus did, but I assure you that it existed. It very much excited me to hear her say that it topped her bucket list. I imagined her walking those cobblestone streets, laughing beside me, and my heart beat faster.

Most of all – it had, even if for just a moment, felt to me like she might be going to say yes. I secretly longed for that answer, more than I had allowed myself to ponder on only moments ago. But now, within the privacy of my mind – I was thinking of everything I wanted to show her, to experience with her in the town I called my home. 

Our fried green tomatoes arrived, as well as our ribeye steaks and something called an Arabian salad. Vandalia insisted, it was a must have. After tasting the food, I immediately complimented it and let her know, I could understand why she liked this place so much. The steak was perfectly cooked, and the spices from the salad reminded me of old markets in cities I’d long forgotten.

Then, we ate for a few moments in silence, before Vandalia resumed our conversation from before our main course arrived. I knew it had been a heavy one, and part of me hadn’t expected it to pick back up. Part of me had sensed a finality to it as much as it saddened me to admit that to myself. 



“Elijah,” she said my name like a confession. Our eyes met and I gazed into her green hues with my own colored brown. “I want to go to New Orleans with you, and meet your family, and spend our first holiday together. I don’t think I could bear it to be apart from you. Not now,” Vandalia almost whispered those last words, like she was afraid for me to hear them.

I couldn’t help but wonder why she was afraid. Did she fear I might find her wanting? Was she afraid I’d find her clingy? Too much? There was no way I ever could — but maybe that’s what she feared.

Regardless of her fear, her words had brought two overwhelming emotions to me. First and above all else – joy . I could remember very few times in my life that I felt as excited as I did in this very moment. I thought back to those moments – when we were children, I would spar with my younger half-brother Niklaus.

I would teach him how to use a sword and how to use a bow and each time it would excite me to be a big brother to him in this way. I thought of a time when Rebekah was but a little girl and I disobeyed an order from our mother by taking her to a gorgeous waterfall a distance away. The way her blue eyes were alight at the majesty of it. 

Now that Vandalia had said yes, I needed her to know what I was. That had been the condition I’d made with myself — if she said yes, then there needed to be no secrets. I needed her to know what me and my siblings were. Vandalia's eyes, those piercing green eyes — they had undone me completely.

That was the second emotion that filled me — fear. I feared that what I was could ruin this. I feared that who I was could ruin this beautiful, innocent soul. I feared that Vandalia could end up another sin behind a blood-stained red door. 

For a moment, I thought of times I had felt fear or perhaps anxiety or dread like this in my lifetime. The way I would look away as our father would beat Niklaus mercilessly. The hurt in Niklaus’s eyes as I helped father subdue him for mother to perform the spell that would lock away a part of himself forever. 

The look in Tatia’s eyes right before I took her life and most recently, the moments leading up to the heartbreak between Hayley and myself. I knew the moment that Jackson had professed his love for her, and how strong her loyalty was to her pack. I knew that he would be her choice. 

Still, it did not diminish the hurt when we kissed for our last time and Hayley whispered the words, ‘ it has to be him, Elijah. I don’t know why, because I know I love you with my whole heart, but it has to be him. ’

A part of me shattered that night and I wasn’t sure I’d ever recover. Each memory was a fracture. And I hadn’t realized how broken I’d become until I saw Vandalia. I felt shattered until almost twenty-four hours ago when I looked into those piercing green eyes for the very first time.

No matter my fear, Vandalia had to know what I was. I couldn’t tolerate the thought of bringing her to New Orleans and her finding out there and something bad happening to her because of it. She needed to know now, and base the rest of her decision on that. All of her decisions on that.

"I wish you could feel how much joy you’ve brought my heart, Vandalia,” I began. “After dinner, I’d love to take another walk with you. I need you to know more about me,” I hoped the words didn’t frighten her. But she needed to know. Everything.

“Actually, I have a slight bit of a condition about my going to New Orleans,” Vandalia mused, which surprised me. It was as if I had a condition — her knowing the truth about me, and now she had a condition of her own. Fate, it seemed, had quite the sense of timing.

“Of course, Miss LaRue,” I replied. “It’s probably really silly, actually, but could we be back to Henderson by April 21st?” It was amazing that she’d wanted to return by that date — since that was the very date I’d given the renovators earlier this morning. 



“That’s exactly the date I planned on us being back in town by. I am astonished,” I really was a bit taken back and I hoped my voice conveyed that to her. I was sure the look on my face did. 

Why had I chosen, this morning, the 21st? “I’m not sure you’ve given me any reason for that date to be important. But for some reason, when I spoke to Rebekah, I told her if you said yes, we’d need to have you home by the 21st,” I explained. 

“It’s the Tri-Fest, and it’s my absolute favorite three days out of the year. I-it would mean so much to me, for you to be here for that and to experience it with me.” From the sound of her voice, I could tell it did mean a lot to her. Perhaps, it meant even more than she realized herself. A festival. Something normal. Something human. It felt like exactly what we needed.

“Every time I have a date for the Tri-Fest, it’s like it’s a curse and I want you to prove the curse wrong. I know that sounds absolutely stupid,” Vandalia said quietly and bit on her lip ring out of embarrassment. I would break this so-called curse if it was the last thing I did.

“You’ve no worries there, my darling,” I murmured softly with a smile. “It would be my biggest honor to go to this Tri-Fest with you, and to break your so-called curse. It would be my greatest pleasure.” I could tell the words were making her heart flutter. 

I only prayed that her heart continued to flutter after the talk we were going to have and very soon. I told Vandalia last night, this was going to move at the pace she wanted it to. Deciding to come home with me and meet my family — that was taking a big step and a fast one. 

There just couldn’t be secrets between us. It would be too dangerous now.

(8,254 words – roughly 38 pages.)

Notes:

Hi y'all! We hit 350 readers/hits today, so I thought I'd celebrate by uploading Chapter Four. I'm so grateful to those of you who have let me know you're enjoying the story thus far. I just hope y'all continue to enjoy it, especially when the twists and turns begin to happen.

I'll once again say, my story moves at the pace of snail-shot on a cold December day. I may or may not include way too many photos, but I'm such a 'visuals' person. Picture books were my favorite as a child, you can probably tell that, lol.

For the first time in this chapter, you'll notice that Elijah mentions the Mikaelson's returning to New Orleans in 2013. This isn't exactly canon, as the Mikaelson's returned in 2011 (although the television show premiered in 2013) but it isn't exactly not-canon, either. The main reason I'm using 2013 is because that's when the show premiered. Further reason I'm going with 2013 is because of the trilogy of books that Julie Plec put out (with a ghostwriter). In the first one, 'The Rise' - it explicitly implies the Originals arrived in NOLA in 1713. The very first episode of The Originals TV show, the flashback at the start of the episode is explicitly stated -- three hundred years ago. (1713 - 2013, 300 years.)

This chapter has one of my favorite 'early scenes' that I've written. It includes some of my favorite A.I. art. (Again, please cut the rural Western KY gal some slack. I can't draw worth a hoot.) This chapter includes a photo of a real mega-mansion that's in my county (from back when it was up for sale.) I won't provide y'all the address, of course, but let me tell you - Elijah's description is accurate. From the outside, you'd think the inside would be Mikaelson quality stupendous, but it was lackluster at best. There are homes that have quite literally a quarter of the price-tag of this mega-mansion, and they look so much nicer/fancier/Mikaelson high-quality on the inside. It's crazy, haha.

This chapter mentions another of my really good friends - Beth. Just like in previous chapters with mentioning Dadie - I've put a few of my real life best friends into this story with their complete and total permission. (Especially Dadie, because she's going to have a super-neat backstory you guys will eventually read about and play a huge role later on. She's excited for that!)

This chapter is the second mentioning of 'Tri-Fest.' That's a real festival that occurs in my town every April. It's my favorite three days of the year. Again, Vandalia LaRue is so much the real life *me* that it's almost scary. Just prettier (because Ksenia Solo is a total babe) and of course, more fantastical and mythical than the real me ever will be, lol.

I hope you guys will continue on this journey with me. Xoxo.

This story has a playlist that goes with it on Spotify - every song in the playlist relates to the song in one way or another.
https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5vxkLYvWEGgrkWbLFdN42h

Chapter 5: Vandalia's Point of View

Summary:

“He wasn’t a demon in disguise. He was divinity, delivered in a way I never saw coming — my red bird with fangs.”

Chapter Five:

All the Stories Are True: Where Truth Meets Desire

“Everything was delicious,” I said softly as Beth brought out the bill. “Marvelous, truly,” Elijah added. “My compliments to the chef — and the owner, of course. I don’t believe a finer meal could be had in New Orleans, even at a five star restaurant,” he continued. 



“If I wasn’t full as a tick, I’d suggest the bread pudding. You’re from New Orleans — you have to love it even more than I do,” I teased. “Bread pudding? I could always make room for that. How about we take a couple pieces and enjoy them on our walk?” Elijah suggested and I nodded with a smile. “I love that idea.” 

It only took Beth a moment to disappear, tack the bread pudding onto a new bill and bring it out with a couple plastic forks in to-go style containers. 

“I’m finally going to get to go to New Orleans. Elijah asked me to go for Easter with his family,” I said softly, feeling like I had to gush to someone or I simply might burst from excitement. 

Beth gasped. “A major trip this soon in a relationship? Girl, it’s serious! I love this for you. You’ve needed something like this for so long. I’m so envious of a trip to New Orleans,” she went on. 

I bit my pierced bottom lip and blushed. “I’ve never felt this way for anyone before, Beth. You should have seen us earlier in the cemetery,” I could feel my cheeks getting warmer as I thought back to those moments. 

I can’t begin to describe how my heart felt when I poked my head out from around the large tombstone and laid eyes on Elijah for the first time this evening. If waking up to our selfie as my phone background, texting him, and even hearing his voice hadn’t cemented the fact he was real. 

The way he held me, the way we gazed into one another’s eyes, and definitely the way he’d kissed me beneath that Magnolia tree had made me realize once and for all. Elijah Mikaelson was real. Elijah Mikaelson was my dream come true. 



“Which reminds me,” I cut a look over to Elijah, “a certain someone still hasn’t let me thumb through the pictures he took,” I teased rather playfully.

I was anxious to see the photographs. That spot in Fernwood was the most beautiful of any cemetery in Henderson and I wanted to see us. I wanted to see the happiness of the moment with that gorgeous spot as the backdrop. 

“My apologies, Miss LaRue. Our conversation was so refreshing over dinner, it must have slipped my mind,” Elijah said with a chuckle. I had a feeling though that he was playing with me a bit. I didn’t mind — I liked that his playful personality matched mine.

Elijah passed me his phone and I scrolled through some of the photos, while Beth was looking at them over my shoulder. “Oh, honey. These are gorgeous. If I didn’t know better, I’d think these were engagement photos!”



As I flipped through them — it dawned on me that she was right. We looked like a couple that had been madly in love with one another for years and were finally taking a huge step in their relationship.

“Are you sure the two of you just met last night?” Beth raised a suspicious brow. “Is he your best-kept secret, Vannie?” She went on. I almost wished I could say ‘yes,’ but the truth was — Elijah was still like a perfect stranger to me. I was looking forward to getting to know him better. 

I honestly couldn’t believe my own eyes as I looked through the photographs. It was like I was finally living the epic love story I’d dreamed about for years. It was as if we’d loved each other in every past life, and maybe every life that was going to come after this one. 

“I’m positive, but it’s the weirdest thing. I really do feel like I’ve known him for centuries,” I admitted, feeling a bit shy in saying that out loud. I didn’t want Beth to think I was a loon.

“Vannie, soul-mates are a thing. They aren’t just for this life. Soul-mates find each other, or try to, in the next life, and then the next, and the next,” she explained. Maybe she was right. Maybe I had known Elijah Mikaelson in his last life, and in mine. 

What were our last lives like? I’d had recurring dreams in my past of being in love with a Civil War soldier. Could he have been that soldier? But then, I’d had dreams of being a Goddess on Mount Olympus, too. I probably just watched too much Xena growing up. That had to be it. 

“You better put some of those photos up on Facebook for us to comment on,” Beth teased as Elijah paid the bill and we stood to leave. “Your wish is my command,” Elijah said with a chuckle. “I’ll see you at the Tri-Fest, I hope ,” I said my goodbye to her and we walked out with our bread pudding. 



“Parking’s hard enough without us monopolizing this spot. Get in — I’ll park us down the block,” I said as I unlocked the car and slipped inside with Elijah. It didn’t take but a moment to round the block once and find a new parking place. 

We’d moved from in front of Rookies to down in front of the Depot - where I was parked not even eighteen hours ago. The spot where I had left Elijah after our first kiss and driven home, my thoughts being consumed by him. 

“Ah, I do believe this spot will forever hold a place in my heart, Miss LaRue,” said Elijah as we stepped out of the car with our dessert. “As a matter of fact, I’d like to repeat that moment in history, if I may be so bold,” he murmured, his voice rather husky in the moment. 

I couldn’t help but let out a small laugh at how proper he was. Mainly, it was a laughter of happiness and maybe a bit of anxious excitement. I had barely stepped out of the car before I felt his arms around me. Had he really been that fast or had I been that slow? 

I didn’t care. When Elijah touched me, I lost all sense of who or where I was — or what I was doing. All that mattered was that I was in his arms again. They felt like the safest, strongest arms I would ever be in. 

“I want a memory like this with you, in every part of this town,” I whispered and watched as he lent his head in closer to mine. “I can make that happen,” Elijah murmured and our lips finally touched.



My heart was beating more erratically than it ever had before. I was feeling emotions deep inside of me that I didn’t even know existed. My knees felt weak. Hell, I felt like I was going to pass out, but I refused. No, the biggest yearning I had was for more. I’d never craved anyone as deeply as I craved Elijah Mikaelson.

I whimpered against his lips — needing just one deeper kiss. Just one and I’d be satisfied for a long time to come. But before that satisfaction could be mine – Elijah pulled away, slowly, and I whimpered again, this time in sadness. “We need to talk, first. Then I promise you, I will kiss you as if it’s with my dying breath,” Elijah reassured me. 

Slowly, I nodded. I followed him to a park bench and we sat down together. I needed to know what he was going to tell me before I could even work up a renewed appetite to eat my dessert, so I sat the clam-shell down beside me and looked at him. It looked as if he were in deep contemplation — struggling to find and use the correct words.



“This might sound odd or a bit out of left field, but do you believe in the supernatural—or the paranormal?” Elijah asked. I could tell, it was a serious question. But it took me by surprise nonetheless. 

I was never much of a liar. If I was going to scare him off with my honesty, I might as well do it now and spare myself more heartbreak later. Honesty was the policy after all. 

“Probably more than the average person, yeah. I mean, Elijah, my job involves talking to dead people, or at least, trying to. I’ve always believed that every story is based on something whether it’s an exaggerated truth or not,” I admitted. 

“All the stories have to be true in some way or another. Werewolves, witches, ghosts, and vampires. Angels, demons, goblins, and ghouls. Religious figures, and even Santa Claus. It’s all based on something that happened or existed. Don’t you think?” I questioned, hoping I hadn’t made myself sound too ridiculous to him. 

I could tell that my answer had maybe surprised him? A good kind of surprise, I hoped. “So you would be okay with something or someone proving that as a fact? Proving to you that all of the stories are true?” Elijah questioned. 

“Elijah,” I murmured his name. “I wished—no, I prayed—for a red bird on that dock,” I pointed down at the water, “in the middle of the night to stop me from killing myself. Not even twenty-four hours ago. I begged for a sign from above.” I admitted and knew he needed more of an explanation. Elijah deserved that much from me.

“Today is a hard day for me,” I sighed. “I loved someone—so much. And today would be his birthday. But he’s gone. Forever.” I couldn’t stop the tears from coming to my eyes now. Before Elijah could say a word, before Elijah could ask me about this person that the mere thought of had brought tears to my eyes, I continued on with my personal beliefs. 

“So yes, Elijah, I believe all the stories are true—because you’re here. You’re my red bird. You’re my proof that someone out there is listening. You’re my angel.” I whispered those last words with tears streaming down my cheeks.

It had been years since I’d been this raw and vulnerable with another human being. It’s not that I hadn’t cried to my parents, to other relatives, or to my very best friends — my sisters as I liked to call them. Of course they’d seen me cry. They’d been there to hold my hand through just about every bad thing that had ever happened in my life.



As I felt Elijah’s touch upon me, I knew that this was more vulnerable than that. This was the most real I had ever allowed myself to be with anyone in thirty years of life. There was no going back now. 

“Oh, Vandalia.” Elijah immediately wrapped his arms around me, pulling me into his strong embrace. “I don’t know if I’m an angel, but I know you’re most certainly mine,” he murmured against my hair. 

I felt his lips kissing the side of my head and it made me sob more. Because there was still a part of me that, and I didn’t know how long this part of me would exist, but I wished he were Nick. 



In this one solitary moment, on what would have been Nick’s thirtieth birthday, I wanted so badly for it to be him I was sitting with—on this bench, overlooking the Ohio, sharing bread pudding, talking and laughing. I wanted it to be Nick’s arms wrapped around me, his lips pressed against my head, whispering sweet things and consoling me.

I think that might’ve been the biggest reason I was on that dock last night. I didn’t think I could survive another birthday without him. A small part of me still felt that way — like I couldn’t make it through this day without him.

Some days the grief was easier to live with than others. On a day like his birthday or even family holidays, he consumed my every thought. I’d remember giving him birthday cards or Christmas cards and how his face would brighten just knowing someone thought about him — knowing he was special to someone.

I remembered texting with Nick one night when he was working third shift. He was sad he’d had to miss out on what was cooked for Easter dinner. I told him I specifically saved him a large plate, knowing a lot of the food that was prepared was his favorite. Nick acted as if I’d moved a mountain just for him.

Maybe I had. I knew without a single shred of doubt that Nick had moved mountains for me. I wasn’t sure whether he knew that or not. I liked to think he did. I liked to think he could see and hear everything from the great beyond above us.

I had wanted to jump into the river and be met with his warm embrace — and even hours later, a large part of me still wanted to. I know he’s waiting for me, and I don’t want him to have to wait an entire lifetime. I didn’t want to wait that long either. Ever since he passed away, seconds felt like hours. Hours felt like weeks. Weeks felt like years.

I knew it sounded horrible — maybe even selfish. Elijah was putting his heart on the line for me, and yet I still loved Nick with an intensity I was afraid I’d never feel for anyone else again. But then I thought back to Elijah — my literal angel from above, it seemed. My red bird. Maybe Nick had hand-plucked him for me, knowing Elijah was the one meant to save me from myself.

I didn’t know it at the time of his death, but Nick was the greatest love I’d ever known — and also my greatest regret. We were a forbidden dalliance of sorts, something the world never wanted to happen. But it did, even if most of the world never knew about it.

I regretted every word I left unspoken. Every time I didn’t kiss him — and God, there were so many — I regretted that too. I used to stare at him and pray he could read my mind, see the way I looked at him, and just know what I wanted. What I needed. But he couldn’t read my mind. I shouldn’t have expected him to.

One late night, a night that he was off from work, we’d been sitting in the living room and watching television while talking for hours. I got up from the recliner and said my goodnight to him, walking out of the room to go to bed. I prayed so hard that he’d jump up and catch my arm, a playful smile on his lips. ‘Without a goodnight kiss first?’ I dreamed scenarios like that over and over. I couldn’t help it.

I still do. I still dream of him sometimes to the point that I’d swear the dreams are real. I’ve never dreamed of anyone whether they’re alive or deceased as vividly as I dream of Nick. I felt like that was a gift from him. When I woke up to the reality he was gone, though? My heart would break all over again. I would relive the night he passed away — like it was my own special kind of hell.

I regretted every time I didn’t say how I really felt — out of fear, or whatever reason I had at the time. I missed out on something great with Nick because it was going to be difficult. It was going to be hard. And I was afraid of that. I think we both were.

That was why I’d made the decision to go to New Orleans with Elijah for Easter. I’d wanted to say no — because no was easy. No was safe. But when Nick died, I swore I’d never let myself miss out on something amazing again just because it might be hard.

I knew Elijah deserved to know about Nick. He deserved to know everything about me — and maybe, in time, he would. I was an open book, mostly. I always have been. But some things? Some of my deepest feelings? No one knew them. Hell, not even my journal knew.



I sobbed into Elijah’s shoulder for a while before finally composing myself. I wiped my eyes without thinking—then remembered I’d worn makeup tonight. I glanced down at the smudged black eyeliner on my hands and muttered, “Fuck.”

“I ruined my makeup,” I said with a pout, on the verge of tears again as Elijah handed me a handkerchief from his suit pocket. The way he’d pulled it from his suit jacket, I couldn’t help but think there was an eroticism about it. I dabbed at my eyes — and it probably took off all my eye makeup, or close to it, thanks to the flood of tears.



“You’re still the most beautiful woman in the world to me, Vandalia. No matter what,” Elijah said, trying to reassure me. But how could I be? I wished I could see myself through his eyes. Instead, in this moment, I just felt weak and ugly — vulnerable, open, and exposed.

I knew his handkerchief, damp with tears, wasn’t enough to clean everything off. So I reached into my purse, pulled out a couple of baby wipes, and removed the last remnants of makeup — hoping I wouldn’t look like a complete, foolish mess in front of him.

“I can’t lose you, Vandalia. But you have to know the truth. I’m already falling so deeply in love with you, and I hope—God, I hope—you’re falling for me, too. But I can’t keep this from you. It’s too important. And as painful as it would be to lose you, I’d rather lose you with the truth than keep you with a lie, with any sort of deception. You mean too much to me for that. I don’t have it in me.”



The seriousness in his voice scared me. We’d known each other less than twenty-four hours and already, he was telling me that he was falling in love with me. It reminded me of the love bombers I’d been with in the past and I’d viewed it as a massive red flag and ran as far away, and as fast as I could from them. 

The word deception — I feared that perhaps Elijah was married. Maybe he had a sob story of how his wife was a wretched bitch and he felt like he deserved better, but, that’s where my mind had gone when he’d used the word deception. Still, that made no sense about the supernatural and paranormal, which is how this discussion began. 

To be entirely honest, I’d self-sabotaged a lot of my relationships, and I’d let others sabotage the rest. I refused to let that happen with Elijah this time. I wouldn’t give up without a fighting chance this time, no matter what. Whether he had a wife waiting on him back at home, or whatever else might be waiting in New Orleans. He was worth it and I knew that I needed him. He was my red bird. 

I reached forward and let my fingertips dance along his cheek. “You can’t be a ghost or else I think I’d fall right through you,” I teased just a little or tried my very best to do so. There was a moment when he appeared on the dock last night, I had wondered if he was a ghost. 

I’d been sensitive to what I would call the paranormal my entire life. I couldn’t begin to tell you how many times I’d walked through the cemetery next door to my house — any cemetery, really — and walked into something or someone. The coldest chill of my life would run up and down my spine but I was never afraid. If anything, the cold chill would feel inviting somehow.

I’d not only felt things — I’d seen things. First it started with peripheral vision, then it transitioned to seeing things straight on. Careful, though — a lot of times if I blinked, the person or animal that was there half a heartbeat ago, was suddenly gone.

“You didn’t catch on fire in the sunlight earlier this evening, so you can’t be a vampire,” and I was about to go on with more reasons why he couldn’t be this or he couldn’t be that, when Elijah brought his hand up and showed me a ring on his left middle finger. 

For just a moment before I would even allow myself to take in the ring on his finger, I felt my heart beat harder and faster within my chest. I had abruptly ended my list of suspicions on ‘vampire.’ What if he was…? All the great vampire stories over the generations — Bram Stoker’s Dracula, Anne Rice’s Interview with the Vampire, and even the modern age Twilight; I’d been drawn to them all in one way or another. Had they been inspired by real creatures — real people?

The thought of him actually being a vampire both thrilled me and terrified me simultaneously. I knew which emotion was winning out. It was squashing the other emotion like a bug.



My eyes widened — the ring on his finger, it was beautiful and so, dare I say, ancient looking. “I can’t believe I didn’t notice it before,” I murmured, eyes fixed on the ornate yet somehow mysterious stone. “That’s Lapis lazuli, isn’t it?” I asked and Elijah nodded his head.

“Most people mistake it for a sapphire at first,” he said, calm as ever it seemed. “I’m impressed you recognized it. Vandalia, this ring—this is how I walk in the daylight.” The words fell from his mouth as if they should be normal.

Wait a minute. Did he just admit to being – did he just confirm he’s a vampire?

“Elijah,” I said while trying to steady my voice. “I’m no Bella Swan, and you’re no Edward Cullen. Vampires – Elizabeth Bathory and Vlad the Impaler were the inspirations for Dracula, weren’t they?” I asked, knowing for sure he’d say yes and that would be the end of all this. 

“Vlad Tepes was a savage warlord, and he learned from the very best." My breath caught. He wasn’t speaking about history — he was speaking from it. "Bathory? She wasn’t a vampire, no. But she wanted to be one. She wanted to be my sister, Rebekah, if I’m being quite honest,” Elijah said with a chuckle as if he was remembering things from when those people were alive. They had happened long before he was born. Didn’t they? 

“But, Vlad was the fifteenth century, and Bathory was the sixteenth,” my voice trailed off. “I’m well aware, Vandalia. I…” Elijah began, but I cut him off by moving closer to him — moving completely into his lap. I gazed down into his chocolate brown eyes. 

There had only been one set of chocolate brown eyes I’d ever found myself so attracted to before Elijah, and they belonged to Nick. There were many ways that Elijah favored Nick. I would never admit it to Elijah but for a split moment last night when I first looked at him on the end of the dock, I wondered if it was him. The ghost of Nick come to rescue me or maybe, take me to Heaven with him.

Even now, there was a piece of my soul that cried out for Elijah Mikaelson to be Nick. A ridiculous, impossible thought to even run through my mind and yet, I clung to it, even if only for a heartbeat.



“Last night, you said you were the first of your family born in the New World,” I whispered and Elijah’s eyes widened just a bit at my recollection.

“I-I slipped a few different times last night, and prayed you wouldn’t have noticed. I’ve always been more careful, more rehearsed. But you, there’s something about you,” he trailed off. 

“You thought you could scare me with the truth,” I whispered. He gave a slow nod. A part of me still believed this was a farce. I didn’t want to think that Elijah was some superhero complex having red flag — I’d been through one of those before. I also didn’t want to think of Elijah as some kind of pathological liar — I’d been through my fair share of those, too. The other part of me, it literally ached for this to be the truth coming from him.

All my life I had been enamored with the supernatural or what others may call the ‘fantasy’ genre. I couldn’t begin to tell you how many Halloween’s I had dressed up as a witch or even worn fake vampire fangs.

I remembered being a teenager and running through the cemetery with the moon shining bright above and we would dart and hide behind tombstones and howl up at the moon. I remembered being faster than my friends and able to jump up on taller tombstones.

Even if it was pretend, the supernatural had always felt so natural to me. Maybe it was because the world of ghosts and monsters felt more honest than the people around me ever did. Maybe the supernatural didn’t pretend.

Slowly, I pulled all of my long, thick, dark black hair to one shoulder and exposed the pale skin on the right side of my neck. “There’s only one way to really prove it, Elijah,” my voice was soft and unafraid at that moment. I was unafraid because I thought it just couldn’t be true, no matter how much I wanted it to be. 



His dark brown eyes widened. “You don’t know what you're asking. I could kill you, Vandalia,” Elijah’s voice was serious and his eyes were becoming cold at my suggestion of proving he was a vampire. “There’s countless other ways to prove it that don’t involve hurting you.” 

“You wouldn’t be hurting me,” I murmured in a shaky breath. I’d let it fall from my mouth without a filter. I might as well say it now. He might as well know everything about me, even the most intimate details. 

I sat there in his lap, with my hands upon his chest. “I-I have a pain fetish, Elijah, and part of that fetish is being bitten.” Elijah’s jaw tightened at the weight of my words, and his throat worked in a slow swallow. “The harder, the better it is for me. I-I’ve been with men who have drawn blood before, but of course, they weren’t vampires. They might have wanted to be or pretended to be, but it was make believe.”

When Elijah went to open his mouth to speak, I noticed his eye-teeth had grown a bit. No, they weren’t eye-teeth. They were fangs. His fangs had grown in size. I flickered my eyes from his fangs up to his brown eyes and they had changed, too — they were such a deep red color that they were practically black. He had what resembled veins going down his face but they, too, were black in color and seemed to be pulsing. Elijah looked like a demon. He was a demon. 



My heart quickened. I knew I should be afraid of him — downright terrified, even. Being afraid would have been the smart thing — but I couldn’t bring myself to feel it. I sat in his embrace, utterly calm. If this was how I was meant to die, then I’d die happy. I’d never been made happier than I had been in these last hours with him. 

“Elijah,” I whispered, lifting my hand to his face. The veins beneath his skin pulsed against my fingertips — like they had a heartbeat of their own, like they hungered for what coursed through mine. His skin was warm, but tinged with something electric, something other worldly. Like this, even if he appeared a demon: he was both beautiful and terrifying, and I couldn’t look away.

“You’ve shown me the proof,” I whispered. “And I’m not running. I’m not afraid of you — or of what you could do, if you wanted to. The only thing I’m afraid of is being without you. I’m still here,” I murmured and lent into him, kissing him before he could object to my words. 



I didn’t know who was more surprised — him, or me. He’d probably expected me to run screaming into the night. Maybe I should have. Running would have been safer, right? I’ve never had a taste of Heaven without a little Hell to pay and I knew Elijah was my Heaven, but maybe his being a vampire was my Hell?

It surprised me when the kiss was returned. Elijah had promised me a deeper kiss, and I intended to hold him to it — so I whimpered against his lips like before, parting mine. To my shock, he responded in kind.

I whimpered even louder when I felt my tongue against his. I let my fingers run through his short dark brown hair, tugging ever so gently at his locks. I felt his arms around my waist, his embrace growing tighter, and I could swear I felt fingernails digging into my hip bones.



I playfully nipped at his tongue and felt his groan vibrate between us. Reflexively, I pushed my hips into his — and he groaned louder, the sound low and hungry against my lips. I drew back just enough to catch his bottom lip between my teeth, gently nibbling, tugging. That was what sent him over the edge.



“Forgive me, my sweet Vandalia,” Elijah whispered after I’d released his lower lip. The next thing I knew, I felt his warm, supple lips on the right side of my neck in what felt like a kiss, and then I felt it. I felt his fangs against my flesh. 

I heard a soft pop as his fangs pierced my skin like it was nothing. It was the most pain I think I’d ever experienced in my life. But somehow, it wasn’t the kind of pain that made you pull away — it was the kind that made you lean in. Maybe it should have been but something – something was making it pleasurable, arousing. A strange warmth began to rise within me — unfamiliar, overwhelming, unlike anything I’d ever felt.

I whimpered and let out an audible moan — I didn’t care that we were in a public park and that anyone could happen upon us at any moment. No, my thoughts were far, far away from that.

My hands stayed tangled in his hair, tugging gently. Even with his fangs in my neck, I found myself grinding my hips as if we were in the middle of the hottest love-making session I’d ever experienced. 

And then, something hit me. One like this hadn’t ever hit me in my entire life. I balled my fists up in his hair and whined loudly at first, biting on my own lower lip to try and hush myself. I felt his fangs withdraw from my neck, and whimpered at the sudden loss of him.

To my own surprise, I’d liked the feeling of his fangs inside my vein. I was panting when my eyes opened, catching him looking up at me. “Vandalia,” Elijah whispered my name as blood dribbled down his chin from his mouth. My blood. 

I should’ve felt faint or sick at the sight of my own blood — but I didn’t. All I saw was him. The way he said my name, like it broke something open in him. Like I was more than just a girl in his lap. Like I meant something.



“Did you—” Before he could finish his question, I leaned in and licked where my blood was running down his chin. “Did I do what, Elijah?” I whispered, licking upward to his lips, which earned a loud, guttural groan from him. “I’ve never experienced such a thing. No woman, human nor immortal has ever had that type of response,” his own breathing was a bit ragged, which took me by surprise, for a vampire. 

“Maybe when you told me last night that you were different from the rest, maybe I should’ve been the one saying that to you,” I whispered, licking over his lips again, still tasting my blood on him.

“Different? Vandalia, you’re perfect ,” Elijah murmured and rubbed his hands over my lower back. Just that simple touch was enough to make me arch my back a bit in pleasure. I wanted to feel his hands in so many other places, but for now, my lower back was more than sufficient. 

“Do you know how many centuries I’ve waited for you? How many times I’ve dreamed of a woman just like you?” As he spoke, I ran my fingers up through his hair again rather enjoying the way it felt and I nodded my head. 

“I do. Because I feel like I’ve waited my entire life for you, as well. I’ve never felt this way before, and I very much doubt I ever will again,” and it wasn’t a lie. I was in the arms of a creature that could kill me, and yet I had never felt such warmth. Such love. 

I had loved before, yes. But what this was with Elijah – this was real, and this was true. I lifted my hand up and ran my fingertips over my neck. “I like the way it feels,” I admitted, feeling the wound on my flesh. 

It kind of stung as I ran my fingers over it, but it felt similar to a tattoo. I’d always had a thing for tattoos, especially the way they felt beneath my fingertips. “Maybe I should tie my bandanna around my neck?” I offered, since we were, after all, in public. 

“Don’t bother with that. I’ll show you something neat,” Elijah said softly. I watched as he brought the tip of his finger to his mouth and let his fang graze it, causing himself to bleed. “Drink a few drops, and your neck will heal quickly. As a matter of fact, I’d be willing to bet, anything that ails you, you’ll feel better than you have in a long, long time,” he admitted. 

“But drinking your blood, and you’ve drank mine – won’t that change me?” I questioned and Elijah chuckled, shaking his head ‘no’. “Only in the cheesy B-rated vampire movies. It’s much more complicated than that.” I didn’t think he was lying.

The thought of becoming a vampire – well, I’ll admit it. I grew up as a teenage girl during the Twilight fad and found myself loving both Edward Cullen, the vampire, and Jacob Black, the werewolf. I grew up watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer, dreaming of loving a man like Angel someday. It’s not something I could deny dreaming about before because I absolutely had. 

The offer was too enticing, the thought of feeling better than I ever had before — what Elijah didn’t know, I did ail from a lot of different health problems. I tried my best to hide them every single day. Some days, I failed harder than others. 

I took his hand and brought his fingertip to my lips and suckled on it for a few moments. I could taste the rich metallic flavor on my tongue, and I began swallowing it slowly. 

My eyes fluttered shut as I felt something powerful rushing through my veins. It was different from the heat of the orgasm that had rocked me just moments ago. No, this was like adrenaline or strength. Power. This was what being powerful felt like. 

As I opened my eyes, it was as if I could see more clearly out of them than I had in years. I took off my glasses and was amazed. “Holy shit. It’s like vampire blood is a cure for everything,” I mumbled and looked away from him, towards the train bridge. I could see it so vividly, so defined and perfectly. “It’s like I’ve got twenty-twenty vision for the first time in my life.” 

“It is a cure, Vandalia—for practically everything. But it’s temporary. The effects wear off. Sometimes after six hours, sometimes twelve. It depends on the person—and how much they drink.” Elijah explained as I turned my head back towards him. 

“I feel like I could demolish a tank right now. It’s like it’s speed or adrenaline or something,” I murmured. I was even hungry again, so I reached down for my bread pudding, and of course — I handed him his.



There we sat, the two of us in Audubon Mill Park on a park bench overlooking the Ohio eating bread pudding together. A vampire and a human. A vampire who had saved my life, who had kept me from jumping off the very dock below us right this moment.

A vampire who could kill me at any given moment. A vampire who could’ve just killed me if he’d wanted to—all he had to do was drink a little too much of my blood. I’m sure that the B-rated Hollywood movies didn’t get that part of vampires wrong. 

“If this is what vampire blood can do for a human, I can’t believe there aren’t blood junkies,” I admitted. Honestly, I didn’t believe such a thing existed so I laughed a bit at the thought. Elijah chuckled as well. 

“Regular vampire blood can’t do these things, Vandalia. Yes, regular vampire blood can heal a little bite mark on a human, which comes in handy when one is trying to feed inconspicuously. A little vampire blood after you’ve been gravely injured could keep you from dying – emphasis on the word, could. But the effects you’re feeling? Only the blood from an Original vampire can make you feel like this.” 

I had taken a few bites of my bread pudding by now and was savoring the flavor of it. Apparently, vampire blood even improved my taste buds. As he spoke, I was growing more and more curious.

I raised a brow at him. “What’s an Original vampire, and how many are there?” I’d always been a curious student and right now, Elijah was my teacher. “Myself and my siblings. We’re the Original vampires.” 

My eyes widened a bit at his words — ‘Original vampires.’ “You’re the Original vampires? Like, no vampires existed before you?” I questioned and Elijah simply nodded. “What about all the other vampires then? The regular ones? How did they come to be?” I continued with my questions and hoped I wouldn’t annoy him with them. 

“They’re all a part of a sire-line. An Original turned someone, and then they turned someone, and on the line it goes,” Elijah explained. “Holy wow,” I murmured. It was a lot to take in. 

I watched as Elijah started to eat his bread pudding now and he smiled in satisfaction. “Not quite like the French Quarter, but not bad for a small town in Kentucky,” he mused. “Still not nearly as delicious as your blood, might I add,” Elijah murmured, and I felt my cheeks flush.



“I’ve dreamed of the French Quarter for so many years. All of New Orleans, really. I don’t know why it calls to me so strongly. Maybe it’s my French roots? I’ve always been fascinated by history and the macabre. Saint Louis Cemetery is high on my list, Oak Alley Plantation, I could go on and on.”

It was true. New Orleans had been my dream destination for about as long as I could remember. Every Halloween the Travel Channel would play a show ‘Most Haunted Places in America’ and so many of them were in or around New Orleans. I wanted to visit them all.

And then there’s the way New Orleans is romanticized in movies, shows—even in books I’ve read over the years. Some of my friends, like Dadie had been to New Orleans and spoke of how delicious beignets were and how there were jazz musicians on almost every street corner in the French Quarter. I longed to experience it for myself. 

“Ah, we might have some talking with the witches to do, to get you into Saint Louis Cemetery,” Elijah said with a chuckle and a bit of a playful grin. “The witches? So, are all the stories really true ?” I asked, and he nodded. “Every last one of them, Vandalia. The good ones, and the bad ones.” 

I ran my fingertips over my neck again, surprised to find the bite mark completely healed. “I liked the way it felt a moment ago. It was like a tattoo. I’ve always wanted to get more. It gives me an idea for one in future,” I admitted and he raised his brow, looking puzzled but curious. 

“I could get your bite mark tattooed on me—if you’d allow that,” I murmured. He laughed heartily, a large smile appearing on his lips. “You really are something else. I’ve shown you I’m a vampire, bitten you, healed you—and, egotistical as it sounds, given you an incredible orgasm. Now you’re telling me you’d get my bite-mark, a personal brand of sorts permanently tattooed on you?” 



I rolled my shoulders with a coy grin. “What can I say? I’ve always been the socially unaccepted weird kid.” We both laughed — I knew that was putting it lightly. Way, way lightly. “You’re definitely going to be a commodity at Easter now,” Elijah continued to laugh. 

Easter. I had completely forgotten for just a few moments that I had accepted an invitation to go home with Elijah to New Orleans and spend the holiday with his siblings. Siblings that I now knew made up the rest of the ‘Original’ family of vampires. I would be spending my holiday with not just one supernatural creature but quite a few.

“Who all will be there?” I asked, wanting to get an idea of just how in danger I likely would be. “The two of us, my brothers Niklaus and Kol, my sisters Rebekah and Freya, Kol’s wife Davina; Marcel, who is Rebekah’s flame and a son figure to Niklaus. We’re hoping for a few other relations,” Elijah trailed off. 

“Is that all of your siblings?” I asked. Elijah shook his head. “No. I had an older brother, Finn. He died a while back. We had another brother, our youngest Henrik, who died as a young boy. He’s the reason our mother created us. The reason she made us immortal, so she’d never lose another child.”



“I’m sorry,” I said quietly, hoping I hadn’t overstepped any boundaries with my questions. “So your parents, are they still alive?” Again, Elijah shook his head ‘no’. “It’s a long story, my darling. A complicated history. But no—they’re not still living. We may be immortal but there are ways we can die. Everyone dies, eventually,” he murmured, almost sounding sad. 

At that moment – I’d never felt more weak, fragile, and human. I needed to change the tempo of the conversation — for both of our sakes. “A lot of your friends added me to Facebook. There’s Hayley, Caroline, Tyler, and Stefan. Then there’s Josh, Camille, and Vincent,” I said, trying to recall them all. 

“I guess it’s better to explain our friends and relatives now rather than awkward meetings in the near future,” Elijah admitted as he slowly stood up from the park bench. “Shall we walk and talk?” We threw our bread pudding containers in the garbage and I took his hand while standing. “Yes. We shall.”



(7,295 – roughly 37 pages.)

Notes:

This is the first chapter with a bit of an XXX scene in it - so I'll leave that as a warning. (You're on Ao3 so I think y'all are prepared for smut lol.)

Again, my story moves very slowly, and yes it's photo heavy. I *really* love visuals, and I love playing around with both Bing & Grok to make pictures to go along with my story. (I'm no artist, unfortunately. Words are my art. I can't draw or paint to save my life. I do love coloring books, but that's as artistic as I can get. I'm decent at calligraphy too!)

** This chapter, once more, features a real life friend of mine. When I was deciding on a face-claim (my character is faced by Ksenia Solo, if y'all haven't figured that out yet) - I went with Kiernan Shipka AT FIRST -- but an update as of 8/29/25; I felt like Kiernan looked too much younger than Ksenia/Vandalia (which, she is!) My friend Beth is OLDER than me. So I've changed her face-claim to the actress Rose McIver and I'm loving the photos I've recreated. **

My story does have a (roughly) 250 song playlist that goes along with it on Spotify. The songs are not in order, sadly, and I can't leave notes about why each song is on the list. Just know that they served as inspiration or go along with the story in one way or another.

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5vxkLYvWEGgrkWbLFdN42h

I wanna thank y'all again for continuing on with reading my story. We're just shy of 470 readers/hits now. I could have waited until I got to 500 to update but, I'm just too excited. We jumped one hundred+ readers in about four days. I wonder how quickly we can hit 550 or 600? I've been promoting the story over on Insta and Tumblr, too. All the love y'all. All the love.

Chapter 6: Elijah's Point of View

Summary:

“The swing, the stars, and the stillness — twenty-four hours with her.”

Chapter Six:

Moments Like This: When Time Meant Something Again

To say tonight exceeded my expectations in every imaginable way would be an understatement. Hell, it surpassed them in ways I never could’ve imagined. In over a thousand years, I never thought I could — or would — come across a woman so utterly perfect in every way, shape, and form.

I began tonight afraid Vandalia would say no to joining me for a nice family Easter — but I was even more afraid she might say yes. I never would have admitted that out loud to her, and I barely wanted to admit it to myself. 

Because I knew what that meant — I’d have to tell her. Everything, or as close to everything as I could manage. Some truths still lived under the rule of: 'if she doesn’t ask, she doesn’t need to know.' At least for now.

How in the world was I supposed to approach the subject of: 'My dear — I love you, and I hope you love me, but I’m a vampire, and I could kill you at literally any moment?' There was no easy way to broach that. So I jumped in.

But then she went and awestruck me. This pale-skinned, raven-haired goddess wasn’t afraid — not of me, not of the truth. It was as if she’d been waiting her entire life for the door to the supernatural to swing open.

It was as if she’d been waiting her whole life for me — her red bird, her angel from above. And me? I’d waited over a thousand years for her. I would kill for her. I would die for her, without hesitation. She was worth every battle, every death, and everything in between.

It felt like an honor — holding her hand, walking the warmly lit streets of Henderson by her side. I’d only been in this town for a little over twenty-four hours, and already, I was eager to make it my home. I wanted to learn every inch of it, meet every person -- the same people I hadn’t given a damn about when I first arrived.

I had wandered through cities for centuries without learning their names, without bothering to recall a face. There were only two cities I had ever cared about — New Orleans, because it was home; and Mystic Falls, because it served a purpose. But Henderson? Vandalia made Henderson matter. Vandalia had turned Henderson into both a purpose and a home.



Most of all, I wanted to learn about this town through Vandalia’s eyes. The way they lit up when she spoke of Henderson’s past — it captivated me. In the cemetery earlier, she spoke like a centuries-old vampire herself, spinning tales of what once was. She may not know it, but in some inexplicable way, she did.

“Let’s start with Vincent,” I began. “He’s a witch and a very dear friend — closest to my older sister, Freya. It’s a long story, but he’s family now. Then there’s young Joshua, a vampire, and something of a son to Marcel — and like a brother to Davina. And Davina, she’s like a daughter to Marcel herself.”

“Marcel is a vampire — sired by my brother Niklaus many years ago. Davina is also a witch, one of the most powerful I’ve known. A few years back, she fell in love with my younger brother, Kol. They married and began traveling not long after. They aren’t often home, but they’re planning to make an appearance for Easter," I continued on with my explanation of our relations. 

“Camille is a special friend to Niklaus. A flame of his once — and before that, of Marcel’s. That was before Marcel and my sister Rebekah finally worked things out. The two of them have been on and off for centuries,” I said with a wry smile. “Camille had a gift for pulling truth from the shadows, those shadows often being my brother Niklaus himself — a rare and dangerous thing in our world.” 

It is true that Camille had unraveled Niklaus in ways I had never seen before. I believe my brother would argue that Caroline had been the greatest love he’d known, perhaps, since Aurora when we were but young vampires. However, I believed wholeheartedly it was Camille who had brought out my brother’s long forgotten humanity. 

Not to downplay the affect that either woman had on Niklaus; they had both profoundly changed him for the better. Even Hayley — as much as I loved her, I could not nor would I deny the change she made in Niklaus by simply existing and being a part of his world. The difference in him was now like night and day. 

Without realizing it, our steps had carried us back to Central Park — to the same fountain we’d sat beside the night before. I sank onto the edge of it again. 

“We have a term for that in Kentucky,” she said with a laugh. “Buddy fucker.” I couldn’t help but let a low, vulgar chuckle escape. Normally, language like that from a young woman wouldn’t have amused me — but with Vandalia, it was somehow made different.



“It wasn’t like that, truly,” I said. “Camille was torn between Marcel and my brother. After she turned, though, she didn’t have much love left for either of them. Still, she’s remained a loyal friend — albeit from afar.” That fact did sadden me. Even I had enjoyed Camille’s gentle friendship throughout our years of knowing her. I had found myself on more than one occasion attracted to Camille’s intelligence and her honesty.



“Who turned her?” Vandalia asked, easing down into my lap. The cool mist of the fountain clung to the air around us — soft, refreshing. And she? She was lovelier still. The lights shimmered across her porcelain skin like moonlight kissing water. 

My God, she was beautiful.

Vandalia was beautiful in the sunlight — but at night, she was transcendent. The moonlight adored her in ways the sun could never quite grasp.

“Aurora did,” I replied, my tone flattening. “No one for us to discuss tonight — she’s very dead anyway.” That whole chapter was too deep for tonight, and too exhausting, if I was being honest. Perhaps it was a story best saved for the drive to New Orleans — or better still, when Niklaus and Rebekah could join in.

“So, if Aurora turned Camille, why would she go off Marcel or Niklaus? What did they do wrong in her eyes?” Vandalia looked at me, puzzled. “There’s something called compulsion,” I began, careful to keep my voice calm.

“Every vampire can use it on humans. But only an Original can compel another vampire. And no one can compel an Original.” Even mentioning one of our greatest mind-tricks was a risk. The others might have my head for sharing so much with Vandalia — but with her, it felt natural. I trusted her more than reason should allow.

“Marcel and Niklaus had both compelled Camille to forget certain things — things they said, things she saw. When a human is turned, their mind resets, in a way. Like you experienced with my blood earlier — clarity returns. You could think more clearly afterward, couldn’t you?” 

“It was like the best antidepressant I’d ever taken,” Vandalia murmured, her voice soft with relief. “Even now, I feel relaxed. Peaceful. It’s like a miracle drug.” 

“It probably healed pieces in your psyche you didn’t even know were damaged. So when a human turns, every moment they were ever compelled — it fades. Your mind heals. You start to remember everything you were forced to forget.”



The look on her face told me she was following — and fearful. “You haven’t compelled me — have you, Elijah?” She asked, voice tinged with worry. “Of course not, my dear,” I said, gently running my hand along her arm. “You’ve given me no reason to. I would never do that to you.” Not that the thought hadn’t crossed my mind — once or twice.

“Caroline, Tyler, and Stefan,” I went on. “Caroline and Stefan are vampires. Tyler is a werewolf — and married to Caroline.” I hated to leave out the other half of Tyler Lockwood but I felt it might make a better conversation coming from the source or rather — the sire — himself. “Niklaus has known Stefan a very long time. Once, he thought of him almost like a brother. Perhaps even more, a son figure — similar to how he views Marcel.”

“Caroline was another of Niklaus’s flames. For a time, I thought she might be his great love. But she and Tyler found their way back to each other — they were high school sweethearts. The rest between them, as they say, is history. Niklaus remains close with them, along with Stefan’s brother, Damon, and Damon’s wife, Elena.”

“And your brother Niklaus — is he alone?” Vandalia asked. I nodded. “I pray every day that Niklaus finds a love like this. He’s loved, and he’s been loved, yes — just as I have. But what I’ve found with you, Vandalia? My brother has never known this. He isn’t as refined as I am. He can be headstrong and ill-tempered at times.”

A part of me expected her to dwell on Niklaus and I wasn’t sure as to why. I wouldn’t have been upset had she asked more questions about him. In fact, I always did try to paint my half-brother in a rather good light. An honest light, but a good one nonetheless. I suppose, in my own way, I feared her asking the right questions about Niklaus. Ones that may have, unfortunately, had answers she didn’t particularly like.

“What about Hayley?” Vandalia inquired about the final name on the list of people who had added her on Facebook. Damn, she did have a memory. I had to give her that. I took a long deep breath and focused on the feeling of her skin beneath my fingertips. Before I could say a word, she turned her body a bit and looked down into my eyes. 

“Hayley’s your Nick,” she whispered. I looked up into her beautiful green eyes, confused — but she was already continuing before I could eek a question out. “I didn’t know how much I loved Nick until he died. Today would’ve been his thirtieth birthday. When I wanted to throw myself into the river last night,” her voice started to quieten. 

My grip on her instinctively tightened at the mentioning of what I viewed was her lowest moment. “I wanted him to catch me. But instead, you caught me. Nick sent you to me.” Her voice cracked under the weight of her emotions, tears streaming down her cheeks again. “You’re my red bird.”



“We’ve both known a great love, Vandalia. Yours sounds like it was, dare I say, ‘too little, too late.’ But love like that—no matter how brief—is a treasure. Something to carry with you always, even though he’s gone.” I blinked back a few tears of my own.

“Yes, Hayley and I—we do still love each other, in a way. But it was never what I feel for you in this moment. I might have believed it was once, but the moment I kissed you, Vandalia; I knew. I hope you believe me when I say that I’ve never felt this way in all my long life.”

“I do believe you,” Vandalia said very quickly, “because I feel the exact same way. I have loved, you’re right. But this? I’ve never felt like this and I can’t imagine I ever will again. I can’t predict the future and I don’t even want to try to do so. All I know is that right now I want you. I want my red bird, my knight in perfectly tailored Armani.” 

I watched as her face drew closer and her long flowing hair cascaded around us like a shield. Our lips touched and it was delicate, it was sweet, and it was pure. It was hard to believe just a little while ago, our kiss had been so lust-driven and hot. I was beginning to realize there could be two sides to this raven-haired beauty in my lap. I wanted to know both of them -- the calm and the storm.



I allowed the kiss to last as long as she wanted it to go on. I was sure that kissing her was one thing I’d never tire of. When she finally pulled her head back, I actually found myself saddened at the loss of contact with her, even though she was still in my arms. 

“Thank you for not running,” I murmured as both of my hands ran over her lower back in a massaging manner. “I thought about it for a few seconds. Running would have been easier,” Vandalia whispered. 

“I’ll never make the same mistakes I’ve made in the past ever again. I refuse to run from you just because things might get hard. How could they not? A young mortal woman and a centuries-old Original vampire? That’s hardly simple,” she laughed lightly, though her eyes were deadly serious. 



“I feel like I could learn so much from you, Elijah, and even from your siblings. I’ve always been a history buff ever since I was a little girl, and now I have a chance to sit down and talk with a group of beings who witnessed a lot of history first hand. How many other mortal girls have ever had that chance? How many lived to tell the tale if they did? It’s like walking through time itself, and I get to hold its hand.”

A little smirk crept over my lips. “Not many, that’s for sure,” I admitted. “When I was on the phone with Rebekah, I was a mess of worry and anxiety, Miss LaRue. I worried you’d say no to Easter—and even more terrified you’d say yes.” I knew my words had confused her — why I would worry for a ‘yes’ more than a ‘no.’

“Because I knew. You needed to know these secrets if you said yes. Rebekah asked if it were an option to keep you in the dark for a long time to come, and yes, I suppose it could have been an option. I didn’t want to keep you in the dark, though,” I murmured the truth. 



I slowly lifted her up into my arms with such ease, standing there beside the fountain, holding her tightly to me. “I would have never forgiven myself had you figured it out while we were home with my siblings. I trust them with my life, and yours as well. But all it would have taken was catching one of them saying or doing one little thing and you might have run away from us in a town you’re unfamiliar with. Something bad could have happened to you. I wouldn’t have been able to live with myself,” I explained. 

“I’m glad you told me,” Vandalia’s voice was soft and honest. “I’m glad you allowed me to make choices for myself. I have to ask, though. I-if I’d have run from you tonight, Elijah, what would you have done?” The question surprised me, and I knew it was one that needed an answer. 

I found myself thinking of the answers my siblings would have given. Niklaus, for one – in his way of blocking out all emotions and seeming like he has none whatsoever, he’d have responded: ‘I’d have killed you, and never thought twice about it, love.’ 

But I was Elijah Mikaelson. I was the noble one, the honorable one as history called me. “I would have ran after you and I would have compelled you. I would have struggled with what I would have compelled you with, though. The easy choice? I would have compelled you to forget the last hour before I’d told you what I was. I would have compelled you to think that when we left the restaurant, we came to the riverfront, and had been talking about your love of genealogy for the last few hours, nothing more.” 

It brought me great pain to tell her the second choice, but she deserved to know. Vandalia deserved to know everything. “But the harder choice? I would have compelled you to move on from me. Something like: ‘You met a wonderful man who saved you from yourself, who restored your hope and your will to live. But he wasn’t from around here, and he had to return to where he came from. A part of you will always miss that perfect stranger and wonder what could have been—but you’re at peace with it. Because it’s always better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all.’”

I watched as a few tears started to brim her eyes once more. Vandalia didn’t need to say a word. I could feel her sadness like a wave crashing into me. I could feel how her heartbeat slowed, almost like it had broken completely. 

“Vandalia, the hard choice would have been my absolute last resort. The first one was the easy choice because then I could still be in your life. I could have tried again, much later in our relationship. I could have waited and hoped for a better reaction to you finding out the truth, you see? The last choice, I would have left here a broken man. I don’t ever want to lose you,” I caressed her cheek, praying I’d make those tears that threatened to spill over disappear. 

“I’m stronger than I look. I promise that I am,” Vandalia whispered to me and I nodded my head. I believed that, absolutely. It took a strong woman to absorb everything she had from me tonight. It took a strong woman to be as understanding and as kind as she had been tonight. I didn’t deserve it in the least. 

“I know I probably seemed very feeble last night on the dock, and maybe I was at that moment. I had hit a rocky bottom and I couldn’t pick myself up. I would have eventually, probably, but it would have taken a lot longer without your help. The point I’m trying to get at, and what I’m trying to beg you to never do, no matter how badly it hurts. Please don’t erase my memories. Don’t ever use that compulsion thing on me, Elijah. Promise me that.”



Her begging—her voice cracking with emotion—hurt more than I expected. I admit it freely: it struck something deep in me, something I hadn’t felt in a long time. I put her down onto her own two feet and I moved some of her dark hair out of her face. “You have my word,” I said, gently. “One thing you’ll learn as our relationship grows, my dearest—I'm always a man of my word.”

“I can tell already that you are, and it means so much to me, that you’re so real and honest,” Vandalia admitted. “Honesty is something people overlook these days,” she whispered. “It’s not freely offered the way it should be.” I nodded my head. I was inclined to agree with her.



She reached for my hands, lacing our fingers together. “So, when do we leave for New Orleans?” Vandalia asked, her voice tinged with excitement. I was a bit relieved that our conversation might be taking an easier-going tone now. However, I did quite enjoy that she was a serious woman, a woman of real depth.

“I have one last thing to take care of here tomorrow morning, but we could leave by afternoon or early evening—whenever you’re ready,” I told her. “No rush.” As I’d already mentioned to Vandalia, I wanted this — everything between us — to move at her pace, and that included the trip to New Orleans.

“I’ll let you know,” she replied. “If I’m not ready by then, would Friday morning be okay?” I could hear the worry in her voice. I nodded my head with a smile to ease her. “Of course. As I said—no rush at all.” An even softer smile tugged at my lips. “My siblings will be over the moon that you’ve said yes—and that you’ve taken all this so incredibly well.” 

It wasn’t a lie. Rebekah and Freya both were extremely excited at the prospect that I’d found someone to share my life with, or at least, the next fifty or so years. Even if Niklaus had thrown a ‘temper tantrum,’ it seemed he, too, was rather curious and longed to meet Vandalia.

We resumed walking, hand in hand. Vandalia led me to a large stone monument at the corner of the Central Park square. We walked inside the wrought iron enclosure and she pointed to a name at the bottom left on the front of the stone.



“My sixth great-grandfather,” she began. “He was a Revolutionary War veteran—Joel Gibson. Came here from Caswell County, North Carolina, on a land grant for his service. I think he arrived around 1813. He’s buried in the old Gibson Cemetery, near the plantation grounds. Born in 1750. Died in 1830—at least, according to the tombstone and veteran records.”

I could tell as Vandalia spoke, she was enamored with her family history. “And you’ve been to this cemetery?” I asked, still admiring the stone—reading every name, every engraving with quiet reverence.

“Many times,” she said. “I’ve always lived near Fernwood—the cemetery we walked through earlier. But I first saw the Gibson Cemetery when I was seven or eight—I forget exactly. It had a profound effect on me.”

We started to walk once again, hand in hand down the sidewalk of the gorgeous downtown area. The more I walked these streets with her, the more I understood the charm of Henderson. It wasn’t New Orleans. It wasn’t the French Quarter. But it had a spirit of its own—quiet, rooted, and timeless.



“Like I said last night, I’ve always felt connected to my ancestors. When I visit the Gibson Cemetery, I can’t quite put the feeling into words. It’s like my mind flickers back through time—I’m walking the same paths, standing in the same places my ancestors once stood, as they buried their own loved ones. Stepping into that cemetery feels like walking into a warm, familiar hug.”

“The way you speak about your ancestors, Vandalia; it’s incredible,” I said softly, bringing her hand to my lips for a delicate kiss. “The love you have for this—your passion—it’s transcendently beautiful.” I couldn’t implore that to her enough. I’d never met a human woman who spoke with such conviction about their ancestors before.

“My dear, you speak as if you’re a centuries-old vampire yourself,” I said with quiet wonder. “I thought that a few times last night, but hearing you now—on this walk, and before—I truly believe you’ve lived many lives. Many, indeed.” 

“Do you think you’ve had any past lives, Elijah?” Vandalia asked as we slowly came to a stop. We had wandered back to the riverfront. A barge moved steadily upriver, its lights rippling across the water. She watched it with quiet fascination—and so did I. There was something sacred about the silence between us. It was a moment I knew I would never forget.



“This life I’ve lived? It’s been so long, I’m not sure I’d recognize a past one if it existed,” I admitted honestly. “But you—you’ve made me wonder. Your friend’s talk of soulmates finding one another again and again. It feels truer now than ever. I’ve lived a thousand years just to find you, Vandalia LaRue.”

“I’m sorry I kept you waiting,” she whispered, turning her gaze from the barge back to me. “I would wait a thousand more, Vandalia," I murmured, drawing her close. "You’ve been more than worth the wait.” With her in my arms now, I slowly started to move not only my body, but hers, as if we were dancing beneath the moonlight.



“I have two left feet,” Vandalia laughed. “And we have no music.” I chuckled at her playful protest. “Oh? Really?” I teased, gently lifting her until her feet rested atop mine. With practiced grace, I moved us like a seasoned dancer—after all, I’d had centuries to learn. 

“Whenever I’m with you, I hear the most beautiful music,” I whispered. “The rhythm of your heart. The sound of your breath. The way it slows when you feel safe with me, or how it quickens when I do something like this.” I leaned in, pressing my lips to the same side of her neck I’d bitten earlier.



“E-Elijah,” Vandalia whimpered, her voice trembling, and the sound sent a shiver down my spine. I pulled back, gazing into her eyes—those brilliant green orbs—and whispered, “I’d like to show you another neat trick. That is if you’ll let me.” She gave a slow, trusting nod. 

In the blink of an eye, we were somewhere more secluded. She blinked, dazed from the speed, needing a moment to reorient herself. I’d whisked us away—off the road and down to the concrete beneath the bridge, where shadows cloaked us in privacy.



“Close your eyes, my dear,” I murmured, “and I’ll show you.” She obeyed, her lashes fluttering shut. I mirrored her, pressing my forehead to hers. In that intimate stillness, I formed a mental link between us—something only possible after sharing blood the way we had. 

When she opened her eyes, we were no longer by the river. We stood in a grand ballroom bathed in golden light, where a string quartet played softly in the background. “Where— where are we?” Vandalia whispered, looking around in awe. Her gaze dropped to the shimmering gown she now wore—a glittering purple ballgown, fit for royalty. 



“We’re inside my mind,” I explained gently. “Right now, my blood is coursing through your system—and that links us. You’re seeing yourself through my eyes.” We walked to a nearby mirror. Vandalia leaned in, her breath catching as she took in the reflection—her dark curls tumbling in soft waves, makeup flawless, her porcelain skin luminous under the lights. 



“There’s no way I’m actually this beautiful,” Vandalia whispered, a tear welling in her eye. “I’ve never seen this in the mirror before now. I-It’s like I’m the one in rose colored glasses now.” 

“You are this beautiful — but until now, you’ve never seen yourself through someone else’s eyes,” I said, pulling her gently closer to my side. Standing in the mirror with her, we looked like a proper King and Queen. I couldn’t stop myself from smiling a smile unlike any I’ve ever worn before. 

“I wish I could see this every time I looked in the mirror. It would do wonders for my self-esteem,” she said with a small laugh, turning to look up at me. “Thank you for this, Elijah.” 

“No thanks needed. I want you to know all my tricks — and appreciate every single one of them,” I said softly and led her back out to the middle of the floor, so we could properly dance, with the quartet playing in the background. 



“How did you know my favorite color was purple?” Vandalia asked and I chuckled, a playful grin on my lips. “A very lucky guess. You’re extremely beautiful in it, Miss LaRue. You know, I could have you a dress made exactly like this, my dear, if you wanted it. As a matter of fact, when we get to New Orleans, we should find you something gorgeous to wear for Easter.” 

“Elijah, I don’t have the money,” Vandalia began, but I gently pressed my finger to her lips. “Darling, I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t intend to pay. Please, don’t worry about it,” I said firmly, but kindly.

“I don’t want you to ever think,” Vandalia began again and I immediately shook my head. I knew what she was thinking and I wouldn’t hear of it. I knew what she was afraid of — that she was a leech and I was her victim. I could never think something such as that about her. 

“I couldn’t — and I wouldn’t — ever think that, Vandalia. You’ve told me you’re used to a certain kind of man -- the kind who used you. I will never use you, and you don’t need to worry about using me. If you had any thoughts of doing that, I’d know them by now.” 

“How is it that you can calm every fear that crosses my mind? Every worry, every tiny anxiety — you cast them away, like tossing stones into the river.” I chuckled at her analogy. The way she would phrase things. It amused me to no end. 



“I wish I could answer that. Perhaps, you’ve put your trust in me, your faith in me,” I whispered to her. “I know I have,” she said in a soft voice, laying her head against my shoulder now as we danced. 

We stayed like that for some time, until I finally released the link between us. When Vandalia opened her eyes again, we were once more standing beside the river. I led her now to the swings and when she took a seat, I began to push her in it, slowly and gently.



“You said you were the first of your family born in the New World. Will you tell me more about that?” Vandalia asked, her voice genuinely curious. I enjoyed her curiosity. I was an age-old vampire, and I never got tired of talking about myself. But I loved to listen to her talk about herself, as well. 

“I was born in 977 A.D., in a colony near what is now Mystic Falls, Virginia. My family came from Norway. Ours was one of the first proper colonies on this continent, aside from Native American tribes that crossed the Bering Strait centuries before ourselves. As you probably already know, much of history is fictionalized today,” I explained. 

“I figured as much, yes,” Vandalia nodded her head. “You said your mother created you after the death of a child?” She continued with her questions. “Yes. You see, there is a creature older than vampires — the werewolf. They were here long before us, roaming the forests where Mystic Falls would one day rise."

"Our youngest brother, Henrik, was killed by one. He was only thirteen years old. For my parents, this made the second child they’d lost and my mother could bear it no longer. Immortality was never something we desired — least of all my younger sister, Rebekah.”

“How did your mother create you? If you’re the ‘Original’ vampires, she didn’t bite you herself?” Vandalia questioned and I shook my head ‘no’ although, being behind her, I knew she couldn’t see that. “Our mother was a very skilled witch. She used magic to create us. Witches are perhaps the oldest known creature to this world, the most natural,” I murmured. 

“I’ve always said I’d love to be a supercentenarian — at least 120,” Vandalia said with a light laugh. “I really do think it would be neat. I’ve read stories of people who were born in the late 1700’s and died in the early 1900’s, at like 105 years old. So they lived in three different centuries, and I’m just so jealous of that.” 



“Try living as long as I have,” I chuckled and kept pushing her in the swing. “Does Rebekah still hate being a vampire?” Vandalia asked and I shrugged my shoulders a bit. “I think she misses her humanity, the innocence,” I stated. “I think she misses getting older. Being normal if such a thing truly exists. Rebekah always dreamed of a home, a husband, and children,” I said, my voice fading at the edges.

“Oh," Vandalia's face seemed to fall just a little. "But you said she loves Marcel? Has she made peace with the idea of eternity now that he’s a vampire too?” Vandalia’s voice sounded worried, like she genuinely cared about Rebekah and how she felt. 

“Yes, I do believe Rebekah is happier now that they’re together, and love each other as they do. But even still, they’re frozen as they are. Never aging, never changing. They will always be just as they are,” I said softly. 

“I understand. Rebekah wants to have children, and grandchildren, and grow old with Marcel. She wants to be normal with him,” Vandalia’s voice got quieter and quieter. “Of course,” I answered. “From the moment mother created us that was what Rebekah mourned most – possibility. In a way, Rebekah has felt hollow because of what mother took from us.” 

It had always saddened me that my sister Rebekah could not have the life she could have had. None of us got to live the life we could have had. Probably none of us more so than Niklaus. We had all been robbed in so many different ways by both of our parents, biological or not. 

“Even among humans, it’s often the women who would’ve made the best mothers who can’t become them,” Vandalia murmured. “I’d bet anything Rebekah would have been an extraordinary mother," her tone was soft and genuine. Again, she took me back with her kindness - kindness for my siblings that she hadn’t even met, yet. 



“She’ll adore you for saying that,” I murmured, bringing the swing to a gentle stop before leaning down to press a kiss to the top of her head. “I hate to call it an early night,” I heard Vandalia whisper. “But if I’m going to pack for two weeks in New Orleans, I better start as soon as I can.” 

I knew she was right. It was already well after midnight now — Thursday, April 6th. “I’ll help you in whatever way that I can,” I said as she stood up from the swing. 



“I can’t believe it’s only been twenty-four hours, Elijah,” Vandalia whispered, looking over towards the dock, opposite the riverfront from where we currently were. The spot we first met last night. 

“My dear, it feels like five minutes ago to me.” And I wasn’t exaggerating — at over a thousand years old, time flowed differently for me than it did for humans.

“Yes, and no,” Vandalia mused. “In one way, it does feel like five minutes ago, but in another, I feel like I’ve known you a century now. We’ve learned so much about each other in a short amount of time,” and she was right. 

“I don’t plan to ever stop learning about you,” I informed her and she beamed up at me with a smile. “I hope you always find me this interesting. You have a lot more stories to tell me, than I have to tell you,” Vandalia laughed. I couldn’t argue that fact, but I still argued my interest in her. 

“You will most certainly always be interesting to me,” I murmured and lent in, placing a gentle kiss upon her cheek. “You’re the first woman to truly captivate me in a very long time, my dear. Rebekah would tell you that’s no small feat — she’s seen me at my most guarded.”

I wanted her to realize just how special she was. I didn’t allow people to get close to me such as this - not often, anyway. It usually spelled disaster, and usually ended up with the woman getting hurt or even worse, being killed. 

Hayley had been the first woman in many years that I had let in and look what had become of us in the end. I didn’t regret it — Hayley was happy now and that was all that mattered to me. It had hurt, yes; but now, now I had found my own happiness. 

Hayley had been strength and fire. Vandalia was softness wrapped in sorrow — a different kind of strength. I hadn’t realized how much I needed both, until now.

As we walked back across the riverfront, I watched as her eyes took note of how beautiful the moon was shining over the river and the train bridge. “Maybe a photo opportunity?” Vandalia asked and I nodded, I had already been thinking similarly. I pulled my phone out and grabbed a few of her alone, and then, just like twenty-four hours ago, we took a few selfies.



“Your friends seem quite enamored with your love life,” I chuckled, already imagining the flood of reactions once the photos went up on Facebook. “Wait until the New Orleans photos start going up, or photos with your siblings. I think my friends will realize how serious it is between us,” Vandalia grinned, sounding rather excited. 

Our photos were perfect, at least in my eyes. The moon shining so perfectly above the river , its reflection easily seen in the photographs. Somehow, the moon reflected in our eyes as well. The look of pure contentment on both of our faces. I hoped it would stay like this, always. 



We continued walking, hand in hand once more, towards her car. “I look forward to Easter immensely. You spoke of your love language — sharing the places and things you love, with the one you love. Mine is just the same, Vandalia. Showing you the city I adore, having you meet my family – it is of great significance to me.” 

“It is to me as well,” Vandalia murmured, giving my hand a gentle squeeze. “You don’t know how much it means to me to not be some dirty secret. A late night booty call, if you will,” I could tell by her voice, she’d been that too many times before. 



“I know I’m no trophy girlfriend,” Vandalia started. I hated how hard she was on herself — but I understood why. She had been bullied. People had not been kind to her throughout her lifetime. 

“You’re the most spectacular trophy to me,” I reassured her as we reached her car. We found ourselves in the same moment of time we were in just twenty-four hours previous. Even more than last night, I didn’t want to part from her. 

“I don’t want to go. Last night, I truly didn’t know if I’d ever see you again. Now I know I’ll be spending two solid weeks with you, and yet I still feel like I’m going to cry. Because I’m scared I’ll wake from this dream and you’ll just be a memory,” Vandalia’s eyes were beginning to water. 

I could already hear the tears coming in her voice as she spoke. I was beginning to realize that she wasn’t exaggerating when she said she had abandonment issues. As a matter of fact, these might have gone way past just abandonment issues. I sympathized. 

“Darling, you don't have anything to worry about. Just like last night, let me know when you’re home, and we’ll talk until you fall asleep,” I did my best to assure her. “I meant what I said last night, Vandalia. I’ll always answer,” I murmured. 



“Maybe you’ll dream of me. Call me when you wake — I’ll answer.” I brushed a few loose strands of hair from her face, tucking them gently behind her ear. “And when you’re packed, just say the word. We’ll be on our way.”

“Thank you, for another incredible night, Elijah,” Vandalia whispered and I nodded my head, cupping her cheek. “No thanks is needed, my dear. If anyone should be thanked, it’s you,” I lent in and let my lips graze hers. 

“A million thank you’s for accepting me for who I am. You will never know just how happy you’ve made me tonight,” I whispered those words against her perfectly plush lips, our kiss deepening once or twice.



Our kiss was tender, sweet, and pure by the end of it. When she pulled back, she gave me a warm smile. “No thanks needed for that, as you’ve accepted me for who I am as well,” Vandalia’s cheeks tinted pink just a bit with those words. “Goodnight, Elijah, I’ll message you when I’m home.” 

With those words, she slipped into the car and closed the driver's door. I, too, was starting to feel the ache she’d spoken of. I knew I’d see her again — likely by this afternoon or evening — and yet it felt impossibly far away.

For some reason, she was right. This all felt like a dream we were about to wake up from. I knew better than to think that way, but she was rubbing off on me.

(6,735 words– roughly 38 pages.) 

Notes:

First and foremost, thank you all so much for following along in Vandalia's journey!

I'm so sorry for the delay in getting Chapter Six posted. I wanted to update yesterday (chapter six on the sixth, lol) but unfortunately, I was out of the house all day long yesterday. Plus side - got a brand new phone and we're getting faster internet installed on Monday (woohoo!)

Again, I'll say (if y'all haven't figured it out by now I don't know what to tell you) that my story moves very slowly and is photo heavy. Some chapters heavier on the photographs than others. I really *really* enjoy using Bing/Grok to create visuals because I am SUCH a visual-loving person. I think it adds a layer of depth, ya know? This photo actually has one of my favorite photographs Bing has ever made (it's photo #13). I swear it REALLY does look like Bing nailed my hometown riverfront area and our train bridge perfectly. I love it SO much. (Photo #25 looks just like it, too, honestly!)

This chapter is the first to really delve into the current back-story of the Mikaelson's and the TVDU (in my alternate universe if you will.) You'll learn who is still alive, who is 'together,' etc. (A little bit of it, anyway.)

You guys are probably starting to realize that my character, Vandalia, has lost a great love in her life. That person is real. In a way, my story revolves heavily around my losing him and how I've felt every day since his passing. He will be mentioned in several chapters. His real birthday is indeed April 5th, and his real death date - November 18th. As I've said, my character is *me*, just a bit more... fantasy.

In this chapter, Vandalia mentions an ancestor of hers - Joel Gibson. He's a real person, too. Everything I mention about him is real. Same with all of Vandalia's ancestors, actually. I'm an actual genealogist so I love incorporating my actual ancestors into the story.

My story also has a playlist on Spotify (that's public and anyone can listen to it!) that goes along with it. I wish I could put the songs in order and leave little notes on them to explain why each song is on the playlist; but just know the songs relate to/are about characters and situations that happen throughout the story.

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5vxkLYvWEGgrkWbLFdN42h

On the playlist - two songs that I feel go very well with this chapter are "Gonna Love You" by Parmalee and "Eyes That Ain't Yours" by 2 Lane Summer.

I've been advertising my story a lot on my Insta (CemeteryGirlx) and over on Tumblr (borntobeamikaelson). Y'all are more than welcome to follow me in either place! Love making new friends, especially when we enjoy the same fandom. I'm at 591 hits/reads in under a month of the first chapter being posted. I'm so proud of that I could squeal in delight, haha. Anyway - please enjoy another chapter from Elijah's point of view!

Chapter 7: Vandalia's Point of View

Summary:

“It came like an invitation wrapped in grace — and in its ribbon, excitement and anxiety met.”

Chapter Seven:

The Weight of Yes: A Heart Half-Packed, Half-Panicked

I knew it was late, but the moment I got home, I wanted to start packing right away. I was far too giddy to even think about sleep. I needed to tire myself out. Normally, I would’ve asked for permission to leave town for a couple of weeks. I would’ve hesitated, overthought it, and likely backed out at the last minute—letting my parents dictate my life, yet again.

Not anymore.  

I couldn’t do that to Elijah—or to his siblings, who I hoped would be happy I said yes to coming to New Orleans with him. The invitation may have come from Elijah, but it felt like his whole family had extended it. And I just didn’t have it in me to turn down such genuine hospitality. They didn’t have to offer me anything. I was nothing to them—yet.

I wondered what his siblings would be like. His sister Rebekah sounded sweet, but I was anxious to meet all of them. His brother Niklaus sounded a little rough around the edges but I bet he was a nice guy beneath it all. 

Elijah had spoken about Niklaus with a kind of reluctant fondness, like someone who’d weathered many storms with him. That had to mean something. I got the feeling that the two of them were very bonded to one another and maybe that bond had formed from both good and bad times they’d endured together.



After I’d packed a few bags, I sent Elijah a quick 'I made it home safely' text. A few seconds later, he replied: 'I can go to sleep without worry. Are we to be insomniacs tonight?' I smiled, laughing softly at the mention of insomnia. 'Of course. I probably won’t sleep for a few more hours—too busy thinking of what to pack.' 

It was April, and I figured New Orleans weather could be just as temperamental as it was here, so I packed a little of everything. A summer dress I liked, a few long-sleeve shirts and sweatpants, comfy tees, and undergarments. Then toiletries, makeup, and even my laptop bag so I could get some work done while I was away.

I tucked in a few comfort items, and then the homesickness hit—I wouldn’t see my kitties for two whole weeks. They’d probably think I’d abandoned them forever. I prayed they wouldn’t. Part of me wished I could take them with me, but I knew that was unrealistic.

Then my phone rang. I assumed it was Elijah—but instead, it was a New Orleans number I didn’t recognize. Could it be one of his siblings? Normally, I wouldn’t answer unknown numbers, but something told me to pick up. “Hello?” I answered simply, trying to not sound overly anxious. 



“Vandalia? Hi there—it’s Rebekah, Elijah’s sister.” Her British accent was much thicker than Elijah’s. His I could barely notice at times; he sounded almost entirely American. Only when saying a few words with certain inflections did his accent try to slip out.

“Oh, hello! It’s wonderful to talk to you, Rebekah.” And it truly was. I had a feeling she and I would get along—or at least I hoped we would. I wanted all his siblings to like me, but if I could just win over one of them, maybe I wouldn’t feel so clingy to Elijah the whole time.



“I’ve been simply dying to meet the girl who put a smile back on Elijah’s face,” she added, her tone teasing but kind. I felt my cheeks beginning to burn. So they’d been talking about me after all. I thought about the group text thread Elijah had with his siblings and now my mind ran rampant with thoughts of what was being said about me. All good things, I hoped.

“Elijah told me the wonderful news that you’ve said yes to coming for Easter. I just wanted to let you know that I’m so elated to meet you, and to tell you not to pack too much, if you don’t want to. I’d like to take you on a shopping spree when you’re here. I thought it might be a good bonding experience for us girls,” Rebekah suggested. 

“I-I would love that, a lot, actually. I-I just don’t have the budget to shop much,” I admitted with a bit of a sigh. “Oh, darling.” She laughed gently on the other end of the line.

“My brother told me you might fuss a bit, but we insist on buying everything during your stay. Elijah mentioned just shopping for an Easter dress, but really, why stop there?” I could hear her laughter continue at the other end, a friendly laugh.

“I guess it would be impolite to say no?” I offered. It was definitely hypothetical. I didn’t plan on saying no. “Inhospitably rude to say no, plus I think you’d have such fun,” she persuaded. 

“Then the answer is a resounding yes. I am going to bring a few outfits though. They aren’t much but they're comfortable to me,” I admitted. Plus, I didn’t want to end up in New Orleans with no clothes, just in case the shopping trip, for some reason, didn’t happen. 

“Of course! We ladies like our comfies, don’t we? I have a hard time getting out of pajamas some days, if I’m being honest,” said Rebekah. I laughed some, “actually, me too. I work from home most of the time so, why not work in jammies?” It sounded like she agreed with that statement wholeheartedly. 

“Oh, another question. We spare no expense on an exquisite holiday feast. There’s no food you absolutely hate, is there? Anything you really love to eat on Easter?” Rebekah asked as I zipped up my suitcase. I’d packed about as much as I could remember for the night.

“I pretty much love every kind of food,” I said honestly. “My Grandma always made sure there was a ton of deviled eggs at every major holiday. We usually had ham on Easter, no special kind really. Just regular ol’ hickory smoked ham. I like all the usual holiday sides like mashed potatoes, corn, green beans, I could go on and on. Don’t even get me started on desserts,” I laughed a bit, hoping I hadn’t made a fool of myself answering the question. 

“Oh but you must, once you’re here. I’m sure your tastes could improve our menu by a lot! Perhaps you could help me prepare the deviled eggs then? We’ll use her recipe,” Rebekah insisted. The kindness of that gesture had my throat feeling tight, tears threatening my eyes once more. 

“I’d love to. I rather enjoy cooking, actually,” I wasn’t sure I’d told Elijah that yet, or not. Over the last handful of years, I've lost a lot of my joy in cooking. Cooking for ungrateful people would do that to you. But maybe, in a kitchen filled with kindness, I’d learn to love it again. “Then you’ll fit in just fine with us—we love both cooking and eating,” she laughed.

“It’s weird,” I said as I placed my suitcase down on the bedroom floor and turned my box fan on, throwing off a few articles of my clothing, turning out the bedroom light, and crawling into the bed. “Knowing what you all are, but hearing that you love to eat. I didn’t get around to asking Elijah that tonight. You’re vampires, why do you even eat human food?” 

“Because it’s delicious, of course,” Rebekah laughed wholeheartedly. “We cannot survive without blood, that’s true enough, but we still have taste buds, darling. Look at it like this, we like our steak to be a bit on the raw side.” 



“I must be at least half vampire then. People say a skilled veterinarian could bring my steak back to life,” I laughed and so did she. “You’ll fit in just fine with the lot of us. We’re all very anxious for my brother to return home, and to meet you,” she said once again. I was already getting that feeling about Rebekah—like we’d clicked without trying. She had this easy charm that made me feel like an old friend instead of a stranger her brother was seeing.

“I’ve always wanted to go to New Orleans. It’s been at the top of my bucket list for twenty something years. I want to see all the best places,” I was sure Elijah had already told her that. 

“We’ll try and fit all we can into two weeks, I promise! I know it’ll be quite a long drive, even with Elijah’s speeding,” she teased. “Knowing my brother’s lead foot, you’ll be here sometime late tonight. We could go shopping tomorrow afternoon, or the following day,” Rebekah mused. 

“I’m game for whatever, so long as the car ride doesn’t make me sick,” I said with a bit of an awkward laugh. “Unfortunately, I’m wearing super old glasses. Long rides mess with my vision sometimes.” 

“Oh darling, I’m sure we could remedy that as well, but, we’ll argue that once you’re here! I’m quite sure you’re ready for bed, so, I’ll say goodnight to you, and sweet dreams,” Rebekah’s voice was oddly comforting, a lot like Elijah’s was to me. Their generosity caught me off guard just a bit. I wasn’t used to people insisting I be taken care of—it made something ache quietly in my chest. Was this what it felt like to be wanted? Valued?

“Thanks for calling, Rebekah,” I said softly and yawned. I was getting tired after such a long day. A long, but wonderful day. “I’ll see you late tonight then,” I said softly, and afterward, said goodbye. The fan’s hum filled the quiet as I laid back into my pillows, my skin still warm from laughing. I wasn’t used to falling asleep with a full heart—but maybe that was about to change.

After we’d hung up, I saw that Elijah had texted a couple minutes ago. ‘Rebekah said she might phone you. She’s so excited you said yes. I think all of my siblings are more than ready to make your acquaintance.’ 

His words made my heart flutter. They were already thinking of me as part of their circle. I hadn’t even arrived yet.



I replied — ‘I just got off the phone with her. She’s so nice. I can’t wait to go shopping with her. But I’d still love it if you took me dress shopping, too.’ I wasn’t sure why, but the idea felt oddly romantic.

‘It would be my honor, my dear,’ he replied back rather quickly. It honestly surprised me — most men wouldn’t be delighted to take a woman shopping, let alone dress shopping.

 

‘Have you packed your entire bedroom yet? ’ Elijah teased in another text. I could almost hear the playful lilt in his voice through the text. That was the thing about Elijah — even words on a screen sounded like poetry.

‘Not the entire bedroom, only – two thirds? ’ I shot back, playful. If only he knew the chaos that was my room — it would take an army and divine intervention to box it all up properly.

As part of my nightly wind-down ritual, I opened my Facebook app — and just like last night, Elijah had already uploaded some of the photos we’d taken together and written some very sweet words to go with them. He must have done so while I was on the phone with Rebekah. I guess he’d gotten a bit lonely while I was distracted by his sister. 







‘I had the most incredible evening with my dearest Vandalia. We strolled through one of her favorite cemeteries and dined at one of her most-loved restaurants. I met a cherished friend of hers over dinner, and we wandered the town until late once more. I could never tire of hearing her speak so passionately about the history of her town and its founding families.

I fall more for you, Vandalia, with every breath I take, and every moment that passes. I am beyond thrilled to announce that she’s accompanying me home to New Orleans, to spend the Easter holiday with my family. 

Family is the most important thing to me, and you’re already someone I view as family. Each second with you is a blessing. Now anxiously I await the drive home with you, and getting to share all the things I love with you.’ 

I had to reread everything he'd said twice to make sure I wasn’t dreaming. The way he spoke about me felt -- sacred. After reading for the second time, I was teary-eyed just as he had made me last night. I just couldn’t believe I’d gotten so lucky as to find a man like him. He truly was a gift from above, to me. 



‘You’ve made me the luckiest woman in the world, my red bird.’ I typed through misty eyes, unable to keep the tears entirely at bay. I knew ‘red bird’ would only be special to me and him. Very few others, even my best friends, would struggle to know what I meant by that. 

Twenty-four hours ago, I’d been a mess of sadness and uncertainty. Now, I was glowing in the warmth of someone who saw me — really saw me. The fluttering of my heart kept getting more intense and the tears fell freely from my eyes at this point.

‘Around this moment, twenty-four hours ago, you were putting me into my car after stumbling across me during one of the darkest hours I’ve had in a very long time, and you brought me out of that darkness. You’ve restored my faith in life and love. 

Now, here I am — packed and ready — planning to spend two magical weeks in New Orleans with you and your family. I am beyond excited. You have brought me to life again in so many ways, Elijah, and I’ll forever be grateful to you for that. I only wish I could properly repay your kindness, and properly show you just how thankful I am for you. I cannot wait to see all the things you love back home, and meet the ones you love as well.’ 

I kept staring at the photos of us that he’d posted. Two of us from in the cemetery beneath the Magnolia and one from beside the river tonight. We looked like such a beautiful couple — if we even were one. But deep down, I believed we were. No official label had been spoken, but sometimes hearts just know before words catch up.

More than once Elijah had used the word ‘relationship’ and although I knew in a lot of ways I was leaping without looking. I was happy to be in a relationship this soon with him. I knew in my heart that I was falling in love with him, and I felt that this trip with him would likely cement those feelings. 

I decided to make a post on my own Facebook wall — I was sure not everyone on my list had seen Elijah’s posts, and it would save me a dozen texts and voice notes trying to explain the same news over and over.

I scrolled through some of the photographs that Elijah had shared. He’d even started an album titled ‘Chapter One: In the Beginning’ — honestly, a man after my own heart. Maybe he was trying to tell me something more with that title. Maybe this really was the start of our story.

I saved a few that I considered my favorite ones and decided to use them in my own post. As I started thinking about what to write, I couldn't help but notice how genuinely alive I looked in each photograph. It startled me, honestly. I hadn't seen that kind of light in my own eyes in years-- not since before Nick died. There were years when my posts felt hollow, where every picture felt like I was posing for a life I didn’t quite live. But this? Whatever this was with Elijah, this felt real.





‘Some of you may have already seen the posts Elijah has shared but if you haven’t, then I owe you all an update in the ‘Vandalia’s Love Life’ saga. I know a lot of you have followed along with the dumpster fire that is my dating history, but let me tell you—I’ve got high, very high hopes for this one.

I’m going to get really honest with all of you. Yesterday, April 5th, was a hard day for me and most of you know why. It was Nick’s thirtieth birthday, and he wasn’t here to celebrate it. I just didn’t know if I could live through it. 

Life has been very melancholic for me lately, having friends getting married and having babies left and right. This is no shade towards y’all, not at all – just more so me realizing I was going to be alone for the rest of my life. 

I know I’m not ALONE. I have my family and my best friends, but y’all know what I mean. I’ve just been very lonely lately. My dating history is trash, it’s a flow chart of my obvious mental health issues and I just keep finding the same walking, talking red flags over and over again. So just before midnight, I found myself down at the riverfront. 

I was sitting out on the Second Street dock, alone, crying and I was going to end my life. It was probably the closest to ending my life that I’d been since my manic episodes in early 2021. 

I was going to jump into the river , and I prayed Nick was going to catch me on the other side. But before I made that leap of faith as some might call it. I said one last prayer. I prayed for a red bird, a sign that somebody was listening from up there in the stars. A sign that everything would get better.

I heard foot-steps coming up behind me, and it was Elijah. God or maybe Nick – they sent Elijah to me when I needed him most. When most others would have turned their back on a total stranger or when most men would have attacked a lonely girl sitting on a dock at the river at midnight and taken advantage of her. Elijah sat down beside me as my equal. He opened his ears to me, he offered me a shoulder, and he allowed me to show him the real me. The vulnerable me. 

I am still sitting here in disbelief that all of this is real. In twenty-four hours time, I have a renewed faith in life, a sense of hope for the future. I’m excited to be alive again. I have found a gentle and compassionate man who is full of wonder and intrigue.

A man who is extremely intelligent and has a deep soul. I’ve found a man who laughs at my pathetic attempts at jokes, a man who genuinely smiles and wants to know more when I go on and on about family history or Henderson’s history. 

I have found a man who’s love language is the same as my own — share the things we love with one another. I have shared my passion for genealogy, history, and cemeteries. I’ve shared my love of Rookies, and the deep pride I have for my hometown. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so seen by someone, so effortlessly understood. He doesn’t try to fix me—he just listens, and shares in my joy.

Now, he wishes to share his love of his family with me, and his love of his town, New Orleans. Y’all already know New Orleans has been on my bucket list ever since I was a little kid. Now I finally have a chance to go and we’re spending two weeks there — we’ll be home by Friday, April 21st, for the Tri-Fest. Something else I love that I get to share with him. 

I just can’t contain how excited I am for the future. Even the immediate future has me down right giddy. Getting to meet his siblings, have an amazing Easter with them, and hopefully see a lot of what New Orleans has to offer from natives who will undoubtedly know all the best things to go and see, all the best restaurants to eat at.

I know so many of you have prayed for this for me and I thank each and every one of you from the bottom of my heart. I’m sure I’ll update everyday with some photos of what all we get up to in New Orleans. I think the first thing on the agenda is to do a little clothes shopping with Elijah’s sister, Rebekah, who called me tonight and was an absolute delight to talk to.'

Slowly, I hit the ‘post’ button. I toggled back over to Elijah’s post and saw a few people had commented. His brother, Kol — ‘I’m beyond happy for you, brother. I can’t wait to meet her this weekend.’ Kol’s wife, Davina — ‘Nothing like a road trip to really fall in love with one another. I know from experience.’ They seemed like such a sweet, happy couple.

‘I couldn’t let you be the only one to make a sappy post. Now that I’m done, I’m about to try and get some sleep, I think, if I’m able. I might be way, way too excited to sleep well.’ I texted Elijah. 

A minute or so later — ‘I’m too excited for words, my dear. I hope you’re able to sleep, and to sleep well. Sweet dreams, my dearest Vandalia.’ 

I didn’t reply only because somehow I knew if I kept texting him or I kept scrolling Facebook, I’d never fall asleep. I unwound a bit longer with my nightly ritual of journaling, knowing that sleep would undoubtedly find me after I finished. 



‘April 6th, 2023 – a day I never thought I’d live to see. As suicidal as I was at the riverfront a little over twenty-four hours ago, now I am high on life and I have Elijah Mikaelson to thank for that. 

After I worked for a while today, we met up in the cemetery where Elijah took photos of us beneath my favorite tree — the beautiful blossoming pink Magnolia, and then we went out to dinner. Elijah got to meet Beth, and even she was enamored with him. 

At dinner, Beth mentioned the possibility that Elijah and I might be soul-mates who have found each other again in this lifetime. I think, perhaps, she might be right. Because every time I look at him, it’s like I’ve known him in every life that’s come before this one. 

It was after dinner, though that truly opened my eyes. Elijah asked me to come stay with his family in New Orleans for a week or two, for the Easter holiday, but he said he couldn’t ask me in good faith without me knowing the truth about him.

Elijah’s a vampire. A real life vampire – not the Edward Cullen stuff from Twilight. Not the Dracula stuff from the movies. I demanded proof and he gave it to me. I’d never felt anything like it — like my body and soul had both ignited. It was terrifying and euphoric all at once.

The second his fangs sunk into my neck, I could feel a fire burning within me that I’d never felt before. I’ve never had such a powerful orgasm in my entire life. The look on his face when he realized what I’d done – well, it was Heaven for me. 

To know I have that kind of power over a thousand-year-old creature? Talk about an ego boost. He allowed me to try a drip or two of his own blood and I can’t think of a moment in my life that I’ve ever felt better. Stronger, healthier – I didn’t need my glasses for hours afterward. My heart didn’t hurt every single time it beat. My anxiety and depression melted away. 

I may have been hesitant about accepting his invitation to go to New Orleans and spend time with his family at first but now I am so excited. His sister, Rebekah, just got off the phone with me and even she seems so excited to meet me. I hope the rest of his siblings are, too. 

Elijah told me a little of his family’s story, of his story, and I long to know more. I want to know everything there is to know about Elijah Mikaelson. Just as I hope he wants to know everything about me. I know I’m not good enough for someone like him — or at least, that’s the story my anxiety loves to tell me. There’s not as much to me, not as many stories or lifetimes lived. But Elijah swears he’ll never grow bored of me.

Right now at this moment as I’m about to lay down and try to go to sleep – I just know I’ve never felt like this in my entire life. I’ve never felt more hopeful for the future ahead and I owe that all to him. My red bird. My sign. My miracle.

V. G. K.'

Of course, I dreamed of the upcoming weekend. 

I had flashes of what I thought the road trip might be like. Shopping with Rebekah — the clatter of hangers, her laughter echoing like we’d known each other forever. Then I had flashes of what being part of the cooking on Easter morning would be like. 

Towards the end of my dream, I was sitting at a large table, across from Elijah. Another male was scooting my chair in for me. Somehow, this part of my dream felt more real than the rest I’d been dreaming. There was a strange comfort in it, like sliding into a memory I didn’t know I had.



I could see this room so clearly and vividly, it was like I’d been in it before. I looked down at my right hand — someone was holding it. A woman, sitting to my right. For a moment, I thought it was Rebekah. She reminded me of Elijah, but no. It wasn’t her. She was on the other side of Elijah. 

I think this one’s name was Freya. Her touch didn’t feel new, it felt familiar somehow. It felt like coming home. But, who just scooted my chair in for me? I turned my head and tilted it upwards, meeting his eyes with my own. They were the most beautiful blue eyes I’d ever seen in my life. Just looking into them made me forget how to breathe. I recognized him — it was Elijah’s brother, Klaus. 



I watched as Klaus leaned in and placed a delicate kiss on my lips. My breath caught in my throat. His lips were warm, and somehow familiar. That feeling that washed over me, that’s what startled me awake.

Why? Why would I dream of being sat beside Elijah’s sister, Freya, and her holding my hand? Why would I dream about his brother, Klaus, kissing me? What in the world? Was this nervousness? Fright? Why had that dream felt more like a past memory? Or perhaps a premonition of something to come? 

I was startled, to say the very least — my heart lodged high in my throat. Was I already betraying Elijah in my dreams? What did it mean to dream of another man when I'd only just begun to fall for another? Then the woman who’s hand I was holding — Freya; what did it mean to feel the way it did while holding her hand?

I grabbed my phone and saw that it was already noon on Thursday, April 6th, 2023 . I’d slept long and hard, not even meaning to. 

I started my day with a shower. I debated with my makeup for a little while — I wanted to look good for Elijah, but to also make an impression on his siblings. It took me a while, too, to decide which outfit I wanted to wear. Plus, I had to finally go through the ‘I’m going out of town until Friday the 21st’ talk with my parents. 

They weren’t thrilled. Least of all, my Dad. They rely too much on me. I’ve become more of a convenience than a daughter. And the worst part? Part of me hated them for it — and part of me hated myself for hating them.

What would they do for food while I’m away? How would they eat? Who would do the dishes or the laundry? Who would run the errands? God forbid they figure out the microwave or a washing machine. It was a grueling few hours enduring that bullshit. 

But Dad seemed particularly perturbed that it was New Orleans I was going to of all places in the continental United States. Mom didn’t seem to mind, too much, only exercised extra caution. ‘Be sure you’re always with Elijah,’ she’d said. My Mom had always believed a woman was safer when with a man — that was nothing new. 

My Dad, though, spouted off quite a bit that it would be unsafe, especially this time of year. It’s not like it was Mardi Gras season. Plus, he didn’t know I was going to be with the Original vampires. I think that made me fairly untouchable and out of harm's way.



Finally, just before 3 o’clock in the afternoon, I was able to sit down on my bed and go over one last time in my head everything that I needed to take. I knew if worse came to worst, Elijah would buy anything I needed while down in New Orleans but, I didn’t want that scenario to have to happen, if it could be avoided. 

After another twenty or so minutes of going over everything in my head, I finally texted Elijah for the first time today. When I realized it was the first time, I honestly felt bad. I hoped he hadn’t thought something bad had happened, or that I had changed my mind. 

‘I’m so sorry for being so quiet today,’ I started. ‘I didn’t wake up until a little after noon. I grabbed my shower, got the rest of everything packed, and had to break it to my parents that I was leaving town until the 21st. I think I’m ready, though. I hope everything you needed to do today went okay? ’ I hit send. 

I was a bundle of nerves waiting for a response — so much so that I jumped when my phone started ringing a minute or so later. How did I know that he’d call me instead of reply via text? 

“I should have just called you,” I teased when I answered and heard the therapeutic sound of Elijah’s chuckle on the other end. “Perhaps it’s me who should have rang you sooner, but I didn’t want to disturb any of your day,” he said softly. 

“How did telling your parents go?” Elijah questioned. "It went as smoothly as it could, I guess. They’re not thrilled. Dad kept going on about how unsafe New Orleans is this time of year. I guess I shouldn’t blame them. They haven’t met you yet and all,” I admitted, “and they definitely don’t know just how safe I’ll be with you,” I added. 

My parents would ruin it between him and I, though. I was certain of that. They always ruined everything. “I’ll make their acquaintance as I whisk you out the door,” Elijah said and I could tell he was wearing a smirk on his lips while he spoke. 

“To answer your question, my morning went exceedingly well, and I’m as ready as you are. I checked on a few other long-term things I have going on here,” and when he’d said that, I had to interrupt him. “Long-term things? What kind of long-term things?” I probably sounded like a kid trying to guess Christmas presents. I tried to sound simply curious instead of clingy, but the truth was— I wanted to know everything about him. Especially the ‘long-term’ things that pertained to my town and in a way… me.



“I knew you wouldn’t let that slip past,” he said, laughing heartily. "You’ll know come the 21st. For now, let’s just say it’s long-term business — reasons to keep me returning to Henderson regularly, beyond how often I plan to visit you, my dear,” Elijah explained. Something about the way he said 'beyond how often I plan to visit you' made my heart somersault. Was he really already planning a rhythm for us?

“I like the sound of that,” I admitted and found myself gnawing on my lower lip and my lip ring out of nervousness. “If you’re ready, would you like me to drive on over? I’ve rented a car for our drive back home and I think you’ll find it quite comfortable.” 

“I’m as packed as I’ll ever be. I’ve gone over the list in my head — and the one I made in my phone — at least four times since waking up. Finally, to calm my anxiety, I have convinced myself that anything I might need that I’ve forgotten could just be re-bought down in New Orleans. There is one thing I’d like to buy, if it’s not too much trouble — a box fan. I just can’t sleep without one, but don’t want to lug my dusty old one in a nice rental car down there,” my voice trailed. I hated asking for things — especially from someone like Elijah, who already seemed to give so much so easily.

“Of course, Miss LaRue. As a matter of fact, I could let my sister Rebekah know right now, and she’ll have one at home for us when we arrive. That way, if you’re too worn out from the drive and wish to sleep, we don’t have to travel back out for that one thing,” his voice sounded so thoughtful and considerate. 

“O-okay, if it’s not too much trouble.” My voice was a little shaky. I just never wanted to feel like a burden or an inconvenience, least of all to Elijah and his family. “None at all. I believe I still remember how to get to the cemetery, and then your house from there. I should be there in a few minutes?” Elijah offered. 



The butterflies in my stomach swirled with a vengeance. “See you in a few then,” I said softly and we hung up. I didn’t have any time to waste, sitting there and absorbing the conversation. 

I began dragging all of my luggage up to the kitchen. I felt like I didn’t have too much — not for two full weeks, anyway. I had my overly large black luggage case on wheels, and a smaller black one on wheels. I had my laptop bag, and of course, I’d have my purse as well. 

“Do we get to meet this guy before he takes you away for two weeks?” My Mom asked as I finished bringing all of my bags up front to the kitchen. “He’s on his way here to pick me up, so yes. He’s the most wonderful gentleman — unlike any man I’ve ever met.” I knew they weren’t buying it. They never did trust my instincts, not with men — and not with much else, if I was being honest.



No, they had Elijah Mikaelson pegged from the moment I said I’d met a guy and was going out of town with him for two weeks. I knew Elijah was about to prove them wrong, though. 

“I’m so excited to see New Orleans finally,” I admitted, “I have so much I want to see.” Of course, my Dad’s voice from the living room had to squash that enthusiasm. “It’s a dangerous, grimy city. I went once during Mardi Gras…” I’d heard this story a dozen times in my lifetime, and already once earlier when he reprimanded me. I refused to let him ruin it. Not this time. I’d waited too long, fought through too much, and this — this was mine.

“Mardi Gras was almost two months ago, Dad,” I cut him off and I knew it would anger him. “It doesn’t matter,” he stated rather bluntly. “I’ll be safe. Elijah and his family will make sure nothing happens.” I knew they were hollow words, at least until they met him. 

(6,079 words – roughly 30 pages.)

Notes:

We've hit 745 reads/hits. I'm so giddy I could cry! Thank you all for checking out my story. Even if you didn't stay (I know a few have yucked at my yum of photos being included); it still means a lot that you took the time to *try* reading my story. Maybe you'll come back sometime in future when you aren't so yucked. (Fingers crossed.)

Ideally, I'd love to be able to update y'all once a week. Chapter 7 is coming to you six days after I've posted 6. It depends on my busy schedule, too. Don't know about y'all - we're expecting bad weather tomorrow and into Saturday. (Stay safe!) I've also been contemplating putting my re-write of "A Drop in the Ocean" (a Jacob x Renesmee) fanfiction over here. Y'all let me know in a review/comment/message if you're a Twihard and would like to read it. I used to have the old version up on FF & Mibba. It started out my novel for 2013's NaNoWriMo and I revisited it for 2023's. (I actually decided to completely re-write it and of course, it's more adult themed now.)

For those that might be just joining us - my story moves at the pace of molasses on a cold December day. It's 700,000 words currently. My story is also photo heavy (mainly using Grok for AI photos now, especially after the release of Grok 3.) At the end of the day, this story is MY escape, and for MY enjoyment. After uploading to Google Docs and allowing my besties to read it, a few of them encouraged me to upload it where others can, too. So now, with their insistence, you all are getting to read a story that I honestly *never* meant for anyone to read - not even the besties.

You'll notice that Vandalia likes to update Facebook a lot in the story, and she keeps a journal as well. Those are habits of the real life me. As I've said before - this story, the character of Vandalia, is so much a real-life depiction of myself... just sensationalized and more fantasy, of course.

My story also has a playlist on Spotify (that's public and anyone can listen to it!) that goes along with it. I wish I could put the songs in order and leave little notes on them to explain why each song is on the playlist; but just know the songs relate to/are about characters and situations that happen/will happen throughout the story.

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5vxkLYvWEGgrkWbLFdN42h

I've been advertising my story a lot on my Insta (CemeteryGirlx) and over on Tumblr (borntobeamikaelson). Y'all are more than welcome to follow me in either place! Love making new friends, especially when we enjoy the same fandom.

Chapter 8: Elijah's Point of View

Summary:

"It wasn’t just a road trip. It was the quiet joy of watching someone fall back in love with life. I savored every mile—and loved her more with each one we left behind."

Chapter Eight:

The Long Way Home: Where She Began to Shine

When I returned to the bed and breakfast, only a few hours remained before sunrise. That was when I planned to deal with the rogue wolves one final time before leaving Henderson. It wouldn't leave much time for sleep, but somehow, I managed a few hours.

As expected, my dreams were filled with nothing but Vandalia. Once more, they were what others might consider mundane. I dreamed of showing her the best that the Quarter had to offer. The way her eyes would alight at the sight of the Natchez and the way her heart might flutter on a date aboard it one evening.

When I awoke, I had just enough time to write in my journal before heading out. I selected one of my favorite fountain pens and began recording my innermost thoughts.



‘April 6th, 2023 , wee hours of the morning in the hometown of my beloved,’ I began. 

‘Last night will live in my memory for the rest of my days. Things with Vandalia were going so well that I invited her to Easter with my family, and to stay with us for a while. I hoped that getting away might help ease the weight of her depression.

But I couldn’t bear the thought of her discovering our secret for the first time in New Orleans. I needed to know how she would react here, in the safety of her hometown. If it went badly, I could compel her to forget.  

I knew the secret wasn’t mine alone to share. I was taking a risk — gambling with the highest stakes, one might say. But the way I feel for her left me incapable of holding anything back.

Vandalia never ceases to surprise me. She is absolutely perfect in every conceivable way. Instead of recoiling in fear at the idea I might be a vampire, she asked for proof. She pulled her long, dark hair over one shoulder, baring her neck — and encouraged me to bite. At first, I refused.

I refused, afraid I wouldn’t be able to stop. I’ve never encountered blood so intoxicating — so uniquely tempting — but I dared not admit that to her. I could feel the depth of her trust in me, and I would sooner burn than betray it. I never wanted to hurt her. But Vandalia can be remarkably persuasive when she wants to be, and soon, I found myself drinking from her.

If there is indeed a God, then He created this woman with me in mind. I’ve never tasted anything more divine. The moment her blood touched my tongue, I felt the frenzy begin to stir — ancient, feral, and hungry. I feared I wouldn’t be able to stop myself as I took mouthful after mouthful.

And then — I felt the unmistakable wetness between her thighs as she instinctively ground her hips down against mine. Her fingers tangled in my hair, tugging with sweet desperation. And the sound she made — that soft, broken whine — dear God, I had never heard anything so blissful in all my days. I ache to hear it again.

This mortal woman — she climaxed with my fangs in her throat. And in that moment, I wanted nothing more than to lay her back on that park bench, uncaring who might see, and strip away every barrier between us. To claim her — utterly and completely.

I longed to part her legs and taste her — to explore her in the most intimate way. If her blood was this exquisite, then the thought of her release — of tasting her pleasure — arouses me beyond reason.

I’ve never known such overwhelming lust and desire — not in a thousand years, not for anyone else. Part of me is terrified by its intensity and the other part? Thrilled by it. I need her — in every way a man can need a woman.

I will have her — no matter how long it takes. I am a patient man. And I know, without question, that Vandalia LaRue is worth every moment of the wait.

Today, I’ll finish this business with the werewolves, and then, I’ll finalize the plans for the home I intend to surprise her with — here in Henderson, waiting for our return from New Orleans. 

Home. I never imagined how beautiful that word could sound — not until now. Home.'

After a few long hours of ripping the hearts from werewolves who were less than forthcoming with information — and going over the final plans for the dream home I intended to share with Vandalia — I called her and let her know I’d be there shortly to pick her up.

When I pulled up outside Vandalia’s home, my eyes went straight to the door — just in time to see her step through it. Her long black hair moved gently in the breeze, and the moment her deep green eyes met mine, I was already stepping out of the vehicle.



If not for her parents following behind her, I’d have used vampyric speed to reach her. I wanted her in my arms — it had already been too long. The ache to feel her skin beneath my fingertips was nearly unbearable. There are no words for it.

I could feel the anxiety radiating from her as we drew closer, but personally, I thought the interaction went rather well. I knew I’d taken her parents by surprise — the expensive car, the Armani suit, the polished manners. But if I had to guess, it was the vampyric charm that truly lured them in.

I hadn’t yet shared that detail with Vandalia. Humans were vulnerable to vampires — drawn to us like moths to flame, and with good reason. We were predators, they our prey. Everything about us was designed to lure them in, to keep them from running.



I spoke with her parents briefly while Vandalia disappeared inside to say goodbye to each of her cats. For a moment, I found myself studying her father — there was something familiar in his features.

Perhaps he resembled someone I’d known long ago. After a thousand years, I’ve seen countless faces. It may have been nothing more than that. There was a flicker — something deeper than visual recognition with this gentleman, however. A scent? A cadence to his heartbeat? I couldn’t place it, but it stirred something in me due to the strength of the feeling of Déjà vu. Best not to dwell on it. Not yet.

I’ve encountered many like that over the centuries. It’s possible he’s a descendant of someone I once knew. I never brought such things up — I always left that realization to the human. Occasionally, it happened: 'I’ve seen you before. I know I have. Twenty years ago, maybe thirty.' And that conversation would end in one of two ways — death, or compulsion.

When Vandalia stepped outside again, she carried her laptop bag and purse. “Are your heavier bags right there?” I asked, and she nodded, heading toward the parked car. “May I go inside and grab them for you?” I asked, and she glanced back at me briefly.

“And they say chivalry is dead. If you don’t mind grabbing them for me, then of course,” Vandalia said softly, placing her smaller bags in the car. “Excuse the mess inside,” Vandalia’s mother said, opening the storm door — another layer of permission to enter their home. 

This was a conversation Vandalia and I would need to have eventually: never invite just anyone into your home — not now, not with what she knew of the supernatural world. That kind of mistake could prove dangerous to her, and to her parents. Even I could be a threat to them. But the love I already felt for this young mortal woman outweighed the bloodlust.

I had over a thousand years of practice resisting the call of my thirst — and for her, I would resist it every time. There would come a time when she’d have to weigh trust against instinct — and when that day arrived, I only hoped she’d choose me.

I stepped inside just long enough to grab both of her rolling cases and brought them out to the car. With no one riding in the back, I placed her luggage there for convenience. I didn’t want Vandalia to feel too far from her things — that could worsen any travel anxiety. 

It seemed like such a small gesture, but I’d learned long ago — small gestures meant the most to those who needed to feel safe. In the short time I’d spent with Vandalia, I’d come to see that she was one of those people. She lived in a constant state of fight or flight, always bracing for something to go wrong.

But beneath that guarded surface, she longed for gentleness — for a kind of safety and stability the world had likely denied her more than once. I knew I could give her that. And more. That yearning — that aching need for safety — it was something I recognized. I’d seen it in others. I’d felt it in myself.

“New Orleans. That’s quite a drive. Took me twelve hours last time I went,” Vandalia’s father said. Vandalia had warned me her father harbored quite a contempt for New Orleans — something about a bad Mardi Gras experience. 

“Ten hours if we drive straight through. We should arrive around 2:30 AM if we leave now,” I said softly, watching as Vandalia hugged her parents one last time before heading to the passenger side.

I assured them once more that no harm would come to her — that she’d be in contact every day. I had plenty of sightseeing plans for us — New Orleans was her dream destination, after all. Vandalia assured them she’d post plenty of photos to Facebook — we had a full itinerary ahead.



Like a gentleman, I opened the passenger door for Vandalia and waited as she slipped inside. Once she was settled, I shut the door and gave her parents a final wave and a nod before slipping into the driver’s seat, perhaps a bit more eagerly than I intended.

“That went well, I believe,” I said with a soft chuckle, watching as her cheeks turned the faintest shade of pink. “I think they were legitimately surprised by you. I know they expected the same ol’ type of dreg I always end up with. You’re the furthest thing from that,” Vandalia murmured, and I couldn't help but smirk. There was something deeply satisfying about defying low expectations.

I may be the noble, the honorable Mikaelson brother — but even I had moments when the ego of my vampire nature reared its head. When Vandalia said things like that, I couldn’t help but think to myself: ‘of course I’m the furthest thing from that. I’m an Original. A thousand years of power and experience. There is no equal. I am above all.’ Not that I’d ever say such a thing aloud.

“I’m quite glad I could improve on that. Speaking of improvements, you don’t mind a vampire taking advantage of his nature, do you?” I asked and she raised a brow at me. “What kind of improvements are we talking about?” 

“Well, if we drove without stopping, it would take a human ten hours to reach New Orleans. But I’m a vampire — I can drive as fast as I please, and compel my way out of any tickets. Which means...” I smiled. “We can afford to make a few pit stops along the way. Sound good, my dear?”

I saw the flicker of hesitation cross Vandalia’s face, so I reached over and took her hand gently in mine. “I assure you, we’ll be safe. Everything will be fine.” I brought the back of her hand to my lips and pressed a kiss there — soft, reassuring.

“E-Elijah... can I ask something that might upset you?” Vandalia whispered, barely audible. I gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “You could never upset me, but of course you may ask anything, my dear.” 

“You know how your blood helped me see better last night? I didn’t have to wear my glasses — I could see everything so vividly.” Her voice trembled. “I’ve never been on a road trip like this before. I promise I won’t make a habit of it. But, do you think I could experience that again? Just for the trip?” I could hear the worry in her voice. I knew she was afraid she’d sound like a blood junkie. I knew better of that. 

In one smooth motion — as if to kiss her hand again — I bit into my own. Without hesitation, she brought our joined hands toward her mouth. And as if she were kissing the back of my hand, I felt her tongue gently trace the droplets of blood that seeped from the wound.



Within seconds, I watched a euphoric flush rise in Vandalia’s cheeks. Her complexion seemed to brighten, and her breathing steadied. When she opened her eyes, they sparkled with clarity as she slowly removed her glasses.

“Better?” I asked, and she slowly nodded. When she turned to me, I could swear her eyes shone a brighter, livelier green. “More than better, of course,” she murmured, and with that, we began our journey. 

I gave Vandalia full control of the Bluetooth, and she quickly connected her Spotify playlist. We listened quietly to the songs she loved most. Every so often, she’d tell me why she loved a song — a memory, a feeling, a piece of herself tucked between the lyrics.

When certain artists came on, she’d reminisce about the concerts she’d been to — and who she went with. I admired her passion for music, how deeply it resonated with her. The arts, especially music, were something I, too, held close to my heart.



As we left her hometown behind, Vandalia spoke often about the little towns and communities we passed. From the highway, she pointed out the edge of her father’s farmland — just a glimpse of it through the trees. She told me stories — memories from past road trips along this very stretch of highway. I welcomed every word. I found her, and everything about her, utterly fascinating.

Our first stop came just an hour and a half into the drive — a stretch that would’ve taken a human nearly three hours. 

By the time we neared our stop, it was around 5:30 PM — Thursday, April 6th, 2023. I could feel Vandalia's excitement already. “Reelfoot Lake?!” Vandalia exclaimed, eyes wide. “How did you know I’ve always wanted to come here?”

“I may or may not have consulted one of your best friends — asked her where you’ve always wanted to travel, what sights you’ve dreamed of. If it aligned with New Orleans -- well, I made it part of the itinerary.” A little grin spread across my lips.

“Dadie Stark. That little sneak.” She grinned, then laughed — loud and warm, the kind of laugh that made me want to hear it again. “Was it that easy to guess who it was?” I chuckled, surprised she could guess which best friend it was so easily. 

“She’s the travel guru. I’ve probably recited my bucket list to her more than anyone else. She spent a few years traveling with her grandma — went everywhere. I’m honestly a little envious of all she’s seen.”

I could hear the hint of envy in her voice — not bitter, just quietly aching. It struck me as a double-edged truth for Vandalia: joy for her friend’s experiences, and a deep yearning to have her own.



We were in a small town called Hornbeak, Tennessee, and I’d pulled up in front of a place called the Blue Bank Fish House and Grill. “I’m famished—what about you?” I asked as we stepped out of the car.

To my surprise, Vandalia glanced at me with a playful smirk. “If you’re famished, this isn’t going to sate you,” she teased — already too familiar with the truth of it.

In the blink of an eye, I whisked her away from the parking lot into the trees, just a few hundred yards from the restaurant. Gently, I pushed her body against a large oak tree and lent in, whispering into her ear. “May I have a drink before our meal?”



Her breath caught, and I could hear her pulse flutter beneath the surface of her skin as she ran a hand gently through my hair. “You don’t even have to ask, Elijah,” she whispered softly in return. Those words could have melted me to my knees if I didn’t have such composure. With her permission, I leaned in and let my lips graze the soft flesh of her neck.

In seconds, my fangs had popped through and the sweet taste of her life-blood was gushing into my mouth. It took everything in me not to groan — she truly was delicious. I could hear small little whimpers — those of pleasure — escaping her. I wasn’t sure which aroused me more — the taste of her blood, or those soft, breathy whimpers.

After a few seconds and a couple hearty mouthfuls, I pulled my head back. It surprised me to find her beautiful green eyes open, meeting my own. Just like the night before, Vandalia surprised me again by leaning in and kissing my lips — not caring that her own blood adorned them. 



I eagerly returned the kiss and wrapped my arms around her waist, while her arms were up around my neck. “I’ve needed this,” she murmured against my lips. I chuckled softly, arms tightening around her waist. “I wanted to take you into my arms, the second you walked out the door this afternoon,” I cooed to her. 

After another moment or two more of sweet kisses, we parted so I could clean myself up. As I methodically pulled a handkerchief from my suit jacket pocket, I couldn’t help but notice the way she gazed upon the lake. Even from a few paces away, I could see the wander in her eyes. 

I couldn’t stop myself from sneaking a couple photographs of her while she was so entranced by the beauty of the lake. The lake was stunning, of course it was — but Vandalia was the beauty that I was capturing. The lake only added to the depth of the photos that I knew she’d appreciate later on. 

“It’s always been so incredible to me that the earthquake created this lake. Oh my God,” Vandalia mumbled just as I had finished cleaning myself up. “What is it, my dear?” I questioned and she laughed, which eased my worry that had arisen when she’d said ‘oh my God.’

“I just realized, you were alive when that earthquake happened. Did you feel it?” Vandalia seemed enamored at the idea. “I did. It wasn’t strong in New Orleans, but we vampires felt it more acutely. Word spread about this lake being formed. My brother, Niklaus, and I came to marvel at it maybe about a year after it formed. Spring of 1813, give or take.” 



“Two hundred and ten years ago. Wow.” Vandalia murmured and walked over to me now, looking up into my eyes. I often forgot just how many lifetimes I’d lived. Yet in moments like these — watching her eyes widen in awe — it all felt new again. “I wish I could see it all, all the history you’ve lived.” I could tell she was genuine in her desire. 

“At home, I have some old journals of mine that I believe you’d enjoy reading. Think of me as your personal historian, my dear,” I said with a low chuckle. I had nothing to hide from her. If she hadn’t run yet, I doubted my journals would scare her away. At least, I hoped they wouldn’t. 

“Journals? Diaries?” Vandalia asked as we walked together now towards the front of the restaurant once more. “None of my thoughts are secret from you, Vandalia,” I reassured her, though a small part of me wondered how long that would hold true. 

Once we were around the front of the restaurant, I watched as she pulled out her phone. “Can we take our first road trip photos here?” Vandalia questioned, gently biting down on her lip piercing, a small wave of curious anxiety washing over her — I could feel it from here and I adored her all the more for it.

“I would be delighted,” I murmured as we posed together and she clicked the shutter button a few times, getting a couple different angles. We made a striking couple — though perhaps I was biased. I believed Vandalia was photogenic no matter what. After she had taken a few photographs, I too pulled out my phone and took a few selfies of us.



“When this trip is over — maybe after Tri-Fest — I’d like to make a scrapbook of all the photos and write down how I felt in each moment. That way, I can always look back on the memories,” Vandalia said as she tucked her phone into her purse. “I’d love to help, if you’d let me,” I said, slipping my phone back into my inner jacket pocket and taking her hand as we walked inside.

Once seated at a table, we both ordered a sweet iced tea and started gazing over the menu. “Order anything you like, my dear, I insist,” I said softly as I watched her glance over it. "Only if you'll help me eat some of it," she said softly. "Of course. I have to keep up appearances, don't I?" I replied with a soft chuckle.

“Nothing on this menu could ever compare to the meal I’ve just had though,” I said in a quiet voice and I noticed her cheeks tint pink. It delighted me how easily I could fluster her, though I knew I was just as undone by her—only I wore it better. I'd had many more years of practice.

The waitress came back around with our drinks and started to make idle chit-chat. “Is this your first time to Reelfoot?” 

"My girlfriend, yes," I began. "But I was here many years ago." Of course, she had no idea just how many years ago I meant. “Well, welcome to the Blue Bank, I’m Katie. Whereabouts are you two from?” 

“Henderson, Kentucky,” replied Vandalia. “I’ve always wanted to come to Reelfoot. I know I’m not that far away, but I’ve never had the chance to travel much,” she explained. They exchanged a few more pleasantries before we finally ordered. 

“I think we’ll try the catfish bites for an appetizer. Is it caught fresh from the lake?” Vandalia asked and the waitress nodded. “Absolutely. All the catfish is, yes.” 

“Definitely the catfish bites then, and I think I might like to have the blue bank burger. Hold the tomato if you will. Does it come with French fries?” 

“Of course, ma’am.” 

“Sounds good to me,” Vandalia said as she handed her menu back to the waitress. “I’ll have the same. My lady has great taste,” I said softly and handed her my menu as well. “I’ll get that right in for you two.” Katie disappeared. Vandalia reached for her glass of tea, but her gaze lingered on mine — soft, warm, and searching. I gave her other hand a gentle squeeze beneath the table.



“I didn’t want to order too much, and be too full. Sometimes I get car sickness. I keep forgetting that likely won’t happen on this trip, because of reasons but, it’s such a habit,” Vandalia murmured, biting on her lower lip. She was such a beautiful woman. I wish she understood just how beautiful she truly was. 

“We still have a long way ahead of us, so I understand. We haven’t made all of our pit-stops yet. Who knows what other food we may come across,” I teased. “Where else are we stopping?” Vandalia questioned. 

“Oh, at least one more time in Tennessee then maybe a few in Mississippi, at least drive through a few particular towns,” I teased her. I wasn’t going to give her all of my plans, yet. “I do have one request for you, though, my dear,” I asked her as I pulled my phone from the inside pocket of my suit jacket once more. 

“If you’re making a scrapbook, I would so hope some of my photos will be included. I’d like to take a photo of you, because you’re simply radiant right now, my dear.” My words were making her heart beat faster, and her cheeks were turning that rosy color again. 

I snapped a few photos before she could protest too much. “I’m sure your friends will also thank me for these candid shots of you,” I said with a smile. “Only if I approve them,” Vandalia teased. I showed her the one I’d taken of her just now.

“H-how are you catching me like this, Elijah? I’ve never seen myself look so beautiful,” Vandalia whispered, looking from the phone to me — almost like she wasn’t sure whether to trust the image or my gaze.

'Because I see you,' I might have said, had I not feared it would give too much away. “It could be the drink you had,” I gave her a ‘look’ so she’d know which I was talking about, “or it could simply be happiness, my dear. Happiness can do amazing things for a person.” 

“Maybe a combination of them,” she whispered, looking down at my phone once again to take in the photo, then scrolling back and looking at the few we’d taken outside. In fact, she started scrolling back through the photos we’d taken over the past day and a half. The ones at the riverfront, in the cemetery, all the way back to our first one in the Gazebo the other evening. 

“My red bird,” Vandalia said softly, handing the phone back to me with a glowing smile. “I can’t believe it’s only been two days — barely that. If this is how amazing it feels after just two days, I don’t know if I can handle the rest of this trip, Elijah,” Vandalia teased a bit, but I could hear a hint of honesty in her voice. 

“We’ll handle it together, Miss LaRue. That’s what soulmates do,” I murmured and those words made her blush even more. Vandalia's fingers played absentmindedly with the edge of her napkin, but her smile didn’t fade. It was as if the word 'soulmate' was something she’d never dared to hope for — and now couldn’t believe she’d heard aloud. If it hadn’t been for the waitress bringing out our appetizer, I might have tried to take a few more photos of Vandalia while her face was so red. 

Over the next thirty minutes, we shared crispy catfish bites and Blue Bank burgers with fries. We talked, we laughed, and more than anything — we felt at ease. Vandalia told me of the few times she’d been to Tennessee before now, and how none of those times would compare to this memory. 



I could tell that as time went by, Vandalia was becoming more comfortable—happier. It was as if stress had started to flake off her shoulders piece by piece. I knew she would never believe it, but with every layer of worry that vanished, her beauty only grew.  

After I paid the bill, we walked out together and got back in the car. Once again, we let her Spotify playlist set the tone while we talked about this and that. Vandalia spoke of other places she wanted to see in Tennessee, if given the chance someday. She mentioned wanting to return to Nashville and actually be a tourist this time. Gatlinburg and Pigeon Forge were also high on her list.

After another hour of driving, our second stop was approaching. It was nearing 7:30 PM, and we were entering the bluesy heart of Memphis, Tennessee. In my humble opinion, Memphis was the New Orleans of Tennessee—a city rich with soul, history, and a rhythm I thoroughly enjoyed.

I glanced at Vandalia as we crossed into the city limits—her expression soft, eyes reflecting neon hues from the shops we passed. She looked like someone who’d been aching to breathe and was finally exhaling. I knew she didn’t realize it, but she was beginning to glow. I was wholeheartedly transfixed by that glow and I was anxious to see her happiness double-- no, possibly triple by the time we actually reached New Orleans.



“Beale Street!” Vandalia called out, her eyes lighting up as she spotted the street sign through the window. We didn’t get far down Beale Street before I pulled over and parked. “Are we stopping for cookies?” Vandalia asked as she pointed toward an Insomnia Cookies shop. Fitting, really—aptly named for two insomniacs like us.

“That’s fair—we could grab a cookie if you’d like. But no, there’s something I want you to see first.” I got out of the car and in seconds, I was around to her side and opened the door for her. I wasn’t worried about being seen—this was a city where we were both strangers, and for a vampire, that meant one thing: no consequences.

We walked about fifty feet from the car, and there stood a statue of an African-American gentleman holding his instrument with pride. Vandalia leaned in to read the plaque aloud: “Father of the Blues. William Christopher Handy.” She stood still for a moment, as if soaking in the weight of it. I could tell it meant something to her—the way she looked at that name, knowing it was one from her own towns history.



“You remembered when I told you about our Handy Fest in the park every summer!” Vandalia beamed as she turned her gaze back to me, her whole face lit with joy.

“Of course I remembered. My dear, I saw W. C. Handy perform several times. I was at the Chicago World’s Fair in 1893 when he played there, and again here on Beale Street throughout the early 1910s. One of the last times was in Baton Rouge, not long after he wrote Chantez-Les Bas in 1931—a song with a distinctly New Orleans soul.”

Vandalia’s mouth was slightly agape, wonder etched across her face as I looked up at the statue. “A kind fellow—warm, full of life, and utterly devoted to his music. One of many fascinating men I’ve encountered over the centuries,” I added. She seemed quiet for a moment, reverent even. Not just for the music, but for the memory. For the way the past still stood, bronzed in time, as if waiting for someone who remembered— someone like me. 

“It’s little things like this. This’ll never get old to me,” Vandalia whispered, pulling out her phone to snap a picture with the statue. Then, she insisted on getting a photo of me in front of it. Naturally, I offered to take one of her as well.



I snapped a few of her from different angles, and at her playful insistence, we posed for a handful of selfies together right there in Handy Park. I also captured a particularly striking shot of her beneath the Beale Street sign.

“More for the scrapbook,” she murmured, then kissed my cheek before I could even think to pull away. “Thank you for this, Elijah. It feels like a piece of my hometown found its way to Memphis. I grew up adoring Handy—this means more to me than I can say.”

“I wanted your first real road trip to be as special as I could make it, Vandalia. I’m glad you’re enjoying it so far,” I murmured, leaning in to kiss the crown of her head. “There’s one more place I want to show you here in Memphis before we head for Mississippi,” I said as we walked side by side back toward the car.



After getting back in the car and driving only a few minutes, she caught sight of the road signs. “Graceland! Get out of here!” Vandalia squeaked, her eyes wide as she peered out the window. “It’s too late in the evening to do much, unfortunately. But we can visit the graves, at least. You’ll be able to say you’ve seen Graceland—even if just from the outside,” I said with a chuckle.

“There’s so much to do here in Memphis—it really deserves a full day, sometime in our future. In the daylight. A lot of the places I want to show you on the drive home would be better appreciated then, too. But for now, we can at least take in the cities by moonlight.”

As we stepped out of the car and made our way toward the Meditation Garden, Vandalia took my hand in hers and lifted it to her lips, kissing the back of it in a gentle show of affection. I’d done the same for her many times now, but when she returned the gesture—it stirred something indescribable in me. In a large way, she was matching my effort and energy, and that meant the absolute world to me.

“Elijah, I don’t care whether it’s daytime or whether we can go inside these places. Just driving past them—the few stops you’ve given me so far—means the world to me. Please, don’t ever think this isn’t enough.” I could tell that she was serious — this meant the absolute world to her. 



“Anything and everything will always be enough—with you, for me, Vandalia. Words fail to capture how much I adore the way your face lights up, the way you squeak with recognition. It’s as if I’m seeing the world anew, through your eyes.” I explained as we walked up to the graves of Elvis Presley and his family. 

We were quiet for a few moments as she took in the graves around her. The newest one being Elvis’s daughter, Lisa Marie Presley. “Have you ever met the Presley's?” Vandalia asked. I nodded slowly. “I saw Elvis in concert more times than I can count—once in the fifties, then the sixties, and again in the seventies. Each time I saw him, he was getting older and I remained the same.” 

I lent down and placed my hand upon his grave. “The last time I saw him, he recognized me. We spoke for a while after his show—he asked how I still looked so young after more than twenty years. I told him it was great family genetics, but he wasn’t buying it. I never did see him again after that. Truth be told, I’m not a firm believer of his death,” I went on. 

“D-do you think he became a vampire?” Vandalia asked. I shrugged. “If he did, I wasn’t the one who turned him. I never divulged what I truly was to him, but he definitely guessed it at one point during the conversation. My guess, he’d come across others. How could he not have? But if he was ever turned, I do not know. A man who loved the spotlight as much as Elvis – if he were a vampire, you’d probably know it,” and that truly was what I believed. 

“Would it be too morbid to take a photo together here? It’s another memory, for the scrapbook,” she inquired and I chuckled. “You’re talking to a thousand-year-old vampire, my dear. Nothing is too morbid—at least, not in my opinion.”

We stepped away from the graves a bit and in the last remaining rays of daylight, we took a few photographs. I began with a photograph of Vandalia alone. She was radiant—especially here, in the stillness of the Meditation Garden. Spring had cloaked the place in lush greenery, a vivid mirror to her striking green eyes.



After I took a few of Vandalia by herself, we cozied up together for a photo of the two of us. I treasured every picture she allowed me to take — whether we were together or she was alone. Journaling had long been my passion — but now, photography was beginning to rival it. I loved photos every bit as much as she did, perhaps even more. 



“My dear, you simply cannot take a bad photograph,” I complimented and showed her the final results. “O-only because you’re here, and you’re the one taking them. I swear, I’m never this beautiful in my selfies back at home.”

I wanted to protest her modesty. Just yesterday morning, after hanging up with Rebekah while Vandalia slept, I’d scrolled through every single photograph on her Facebook page. All the way back to the first one which was taken when she was only sixteen.



There was one photo in particular — her in a sundress at the edge of a sunflower field, laughing at something just off-camera. That one stayed with me. It didn’t feel like looking at a picture. It felt like watching a memory come to life.

Even at sixteen — though I’d never have allowed myself to feel for her as I do now — she had been a beautiful young woman, already luminous in her own right. You could tell she was going through phases to try and figure out exactly who she was at the time.

In some ways, it seemed she'd missed her calling as a model. Perhaps she had even tried once or twice, long ago. It was as if she knew the right facial expressions and how to pose her body, the right angle to take a photograph in, and even the lighting.

What truly captivated me, though, were her eyes in every photograph. They say the eyes are the gateway to the soul, and with Vandalia, that sentiment rang especially true. In every shot, her gaze made her come alive — as if she might step right through the tiny screen of my phone.

In those moments, I wasn’t just seeing a picture. I was seeing every layer of who she was — the fierce, the vulnerable, the searching, and even the sacred. It made me ache to protect her even more.

“Perhaps now, you’re finally seeing yourself the way I see you — without a Snapchat filter hiding your natural beauty,” I mused, offering a small grin. “However, I do find myself quite amused at the photos you take with them. They’re whimsical and dare I use the word, cute,” I admitted.

Snapchat was undeniably popular, and I would never fault her for using filters to boost her confidence. Still, I hoped that, in time, she’d see she didn’t need them — she was radiant all on her own.

It was after 8 o’clock now when we got back on the road. For the next hour and forty-five minutes, we drove from Memphis down towards Vicksburg, Mississippi. When we arrived, it was drawing close to 10 o’clock , just a few minutes before, actually. 

“Unfortunately, just a quick restroom break this time,” I said as we rolled into town. “But I know this place is high on your bucket list, so I thought I’d at least drive you past the cemetery and the battlefield as we head onto the next highway.”

I hoped the glimpse would still mean something — that she’d see I was listening, that I wanted to give her everything, even the little things. I wanted to show her that I would always pay attention to even the littlest details when they pertained to her.

“I definitely want to take a day trip here sometime,” Vandalia admitted as we made our pit stop for her to use the restroom. Afterward, we made our way to the cemetery and I watched as her eyes took it all in. I drove her past the battlefield, and I heard her sigh — soft and dreamy — as if she were whispering to it: 'Soon. Soon I’ll be here to take in all your wonder.' And yes; yes, it would be soon. 

I fully intended to bring her back through Vicksburg on the return trip to Henderson on Friday, April 21st — maybe even sooner than that. A lover of all things history like Vandalia — she deserved a full day to absorb everything these historical sites had to offer. 

“I love learning about each war, and I’ve got several spots on my bucket list — like Pearl Harbor in Hawaii,” Vandalia said as she continued gazing out the window. “But the Civil War is my true forte — the era I’m most obsessed with. Especially the antebellum South. I’d love to take a trip and pack it full of Civil War stops — Antietam, Gettysburg, and Shiloh.”

I was impressed as Vandalia listed them off. There was something mesmerizing about the way her mind lit up — how effortlessly passion flowed from her when she spoke of the past. As though she belonged to it.

The more this trip went on, the more I realized just how much of a history buff she truly was — how deeply she loved the past. I knew I’d have to make her Civil War tour a reality someday. And truthfully, I’d enjoy every moment of it.

After another twenty minutes or so of driving, we reached Jackson, Mississippi. “This is another town I’d love for you to see in the daylight — especially since you love Zydeco and the blues so much,” I said.

“The South has so much charm — and the food,” Vandalia said softly, gazing out at the lights in Jackson. “I’ve heard the barbecue here is incredible.” We were now on I-55, which would take us straight into the outskirts of New Orleans.

“I’d love to do a food tour of the South — especially for the barbecue. I’ve always wanted to try Texas barbecue, Memphis, Mississippi, Kansas City, Georgia; the list goes on. Everyone does it so differently.”

I couldn't help but grin as the image of her in a fun summer outfit, leaning over a paper tray of ribs and rating them like a seasoned critic, flashed through my mind. God help me, I’d follow her to every smoke pit in the South. I would never be more enthusiastic to try every kind of barbecue as I would be with her.

“That’s an understatement,” I teased with a quiet laugh. “You know, there’s something I’d love for you to do. Dadie may have let me in on a few things from your bucket list — places you’ve dreamed of seeing. But maybe you should write out a proper list for me.”

I could tell my suggestion put a little twinkle in her eyes. “Not just places you’d like to visit, or things to do in each town — but maybe a list titled ‘What I’d Like to Experience with Elijah.’ No rush, of course. You can wait until after Easter. You’ll learn — I’m an incredibly patient man.”

“There’s so much. But, I’ll definitely write it down. I might even start a little version on my phone during the rest of the drive to New Orleans,” she said with a small grin. “If we weren’t vampire-speeding, where would we be by now?” She asked. 

I glanced at the clock. “Hmm. If we’d only stopped at Reelfoot Lake, I’d say we’d be in Memphis by now — give or take. The restaurant might’ve slowed us down more than it did, for all your friends know.” 

“I think I’ll post a photo from Reelfoot and another from Memphis — let people think we’re still there,” she mused. “It’s humanly possible,” I said, giving her the green light. I looked forward to seeing the post for myself later on tonight.





Vandalia showed me the photos she was posting to Facebook, reading aloud as she typed the caption: 'I’m having the time of my life already, and we’re not even in New Orleans yet!' A pearly white grin appeared. I was so glad to know she was having the time of her life — my intention with this road trip.

Normally, the drive from Jackson to New Orleans would take close to three hours, but I managed to cut it down to about an hour and forty-five minutes. So it was just after midnight on Friday, April 7th, 2023, when we finally rolled into town. 

Everything felt so familiar as we switched from I-55 to I-10 and headed east into New Orleans. One day while she was here, I planned to take her across the Lake Pontchartrain Causeway — a stretch of bridge spanning over twenty-three miles from Metairie, a suburb of New Orleans, all the way up to Mandeville. Something about that endless stretch of bridge over still water reminded me of us — building something solid in the quiet, between where we’d been and where we were going.



“I can’t believe we’ve pulled off a ten-hour drive in — well, less than eight, really, if you don’t count all the stops,” Vandalia laughed, stretching her legs a bit in the car. “I’m ready to stretch my legs. My ass has the biggest cramp in it,” she added with a giggle.

I could hear her stomach growl. “Oh — and I guess I’m a bit hungry again,” she murmured. We were just pulling into the French Quarter now. “No worries — we’ve got plenty of food at home. I had my sisters do a bit of shopping today, actually, to get ready for your arrival. Rebekah even picked up the box fan you wanted,” I said softly, and she smiled over at me.

“It’s going to feel like home. All that’s missing are my seven babies — but I know I’ll see them again soon.” I could hear the sadness in her voice at being away from her cats. I knew they meant so much to her — they were her children, even if they had fur. Her devotion to those animals said everything. She loved completely — without conditions.

I was beginning to understand just how lucky I was to be one of the living things, or rather undead things that she’d chosen to love. “I appreciate everything you all have already done, to make me feel at home,” she murmured. 

As we pulled into a tiny parking lot squeezed into the French Quarter like a sardine in a tin, I reached over and took her hand in mine. “I want you to always feel at home when we’re together, Vandalia. Whatever I have is yours, my dearest one.” I brought her hand to my lips and kissed it softly.

“Only forty-eight hours ago, you were saving my life on that dock. Now I’m in New Orleans. We’ve done a whole road trip together. I really must be dreaming. I think I did jump into the river that night,” she said with a laugh.

“I’ll take that as a compliment — that it all feels like a dream. It means you’re happy.” I leaned over and kissed her cheek before getting out of the car. “Your happiness — it’s my number one priority, my dear,” I murmured.

As she opened the passenger door, she took in her surroundings. “Are we staying at an inn or something?” Vandalia asked, raising a brow. I shook my head.

“Just on the other side of that building is our home — the Abattoir, or the Compound, as we call it. It’s one of the oldest buildings in the French Quarter. We built it in the 1700s. Of course, it’s been updated — and it’s quite plush. I’m hoping you’ll find it comfortable.”

I grabbed her luggage from the backseat and began leading the way toward our private compound. With my vampyric hearing, I could already hear the welcoming committee waiting for us.

(7,938 words – roughly 39 pages.)

Notes:

Small bit of a life update. Unfortunately, one of my seven kitties - Jace - has gone missing. It's been about 78 hours now. I'm mourning him so badly, but still trying to keep the hope that he may turn back up. This is why this update is coming to y'all on Sunday, instead of earlier like I'd planned. I've had cats disappear before, one was gone for three days and came home; another was gone for a full month and came home. But, unfortunately, I've had ones that have never made it back home, too. So I'm very emotional right now, but numb at the same time as y'all can imagine.

A few days ago (prior to Thursday), I uploaded my Jacob x Renesmee fanfiction on here. It's titled "A Drop in the Ocean." Only chapter one so far. If you were a big Twihard on FFnet or Mibba back in the day, you'll remember "A Drop in the Ocean." I'm still the same Vandalia LaRue, but it's a compete re-work/re-write of that story.

As for THIS story - we're at 941 hits/readers! Eleven subscribers, fourteen bookmarks. I'm happy with those numbers considering I'm only just now putting up Chapter 8. I want to thank you all SO much for giving my story a chance. I'd love to hit that magical 1,000 hits/reads this week.

This Chapter might be a bit slow/dull (or seem like filler) to some of y'all, but I enjoyed writing it immensely. I've never gotten to travel or go for a long road trip, and I've never gotten to cross things off of my bucket list (just like my character, Vandalia) so I thoroughly enjoyed the road trip she takes with Elijah.

Last chapter, you'll notice I chose Andie MacDowell for the face-claim for my mother in this story. For my father, you'll see his face-claim in this chapter is Robert Downey Jr. My real life Mom actually does favor Andie in a lot of ways, and my Dad could be RDJ's brother, honestly. It's funny and spooky at the same time lol. My real life Dad actually does have a yuck opinion of NOLA, and he did indeed go to Mardi Gras once with his Uncle - so story version of my Dad has the same opinion. But you'll later find out WHY that is, in the story.

Again, you'll notice that Vandalia, Elijah, and some of the others enjoy journaling quite a bit. They enjoy updating their Facebook pages (I mean, come on, it is 2023 in my story). Hopefully that doesn't bug/annoy y'all too much. For me, personally, I think it makes the characters that much more relatable and realistic. Like they're real people you could become friends with, ya know?

As always, I will add: my story has a playlist on Spotify (that's public and anyone can listen to it!) that goes along with it. I wish I could put the songs in order and leave little notes on them to explain why each song is on the playlist; but just know the songs relate to/are about characters and situations that happen/will happen throughout the story.

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5vxkLYvWEGgrkWbLFdN42h

I've been advertising my story a lot on my Insta (CemeteryGirlx) and over on Tumblr (borntobeamikaelson). Y'all are more than welcome to follow me in either place! Love making new friends, especially when we enjoy the same fandom(s).

I do have to ask - have any of you picked up on any of the twists and turns this story is going to take, yet? I've left subtle little clues here and there, starting in chapter one. Let me know in a review if you've picked up on any!

Chapter 9: Vandalia's Point of View

Summary:

“The house I feared to enter held not ghosts, but gravity — the kind that pulls you home to the people who make sense of your soul.”

Chapter Nine:

New Orleans: The City the Sparks Led Me

My head was still swirling from everything that had happened tonight. When we’d left Henderson, Elijah had surprised me with a stop at Reelfoot Lake — a place I’d wanted to see since I was a kid, ever since I learned it was formed by the 1811–1812 New Madrid Earthquakes. 

I was a history buff, through-and-through, and that included learning about the massive earthquake that changed the courses of rivers while also creating waterfalls within the river in a few places, created an entire lake, and even made the Mississippi flow backwards for a short time. 

Back then, I used to imagine the earth trembling, water swallowing up forests — it had always felt like something out of a storybook. I recalled reading in history books that those alive back then believed it was the rapture — the end of time as they knew it. Nothing like it had ever happened before, to their knowledge — and nothing like it has ever happened again. Not yet.

We dined at a cozy spot called the Blue Bank, where the food was every bit as delicious as the view. Afterward, Elijah zipped us down to Memphis, where I got to see the statue of the late, great W. C. Handy — a name just as celebrated in my hometown of Henderson. His music had always sounded like home — like summer nights listening to musicians play on the front porches of downtown Henderson homes. An event we called 'Porchfest.'

We made a brief stop at Graceland, where I laid eyes on probably the most famous graves I’d ever seen — those of Elvis Presley and his daughter, Lisa Marie. We took photos in the beautiful garden beside them. Honestly, it made my heart weep with joy. It felt like standing on sacred ground — where music and legacy had found eternal rest.

From there, Elijah drove me through Vicksburg, past the cemetery and battlefield. For a few moments, even in the shroud of darkness, I thought I saw ghosts of soldiers in the field. Some alive, and some dead. I dared not mention this to Elijah — I didn’t want him to think I was going insane. 

Funny, not wanting to mention seeing ghosts to a literal vampire. I felt like that maybe ghosts were still too ‘make believe’ in a way. Yet Elijah had assured me — all the stories were true. The most surprising thing wasn’t even seeing the ghosts on the battlefield and in the cemetery… it was when a few of them looked at me as if they could see me, too.

Onward we drove to Jackson — another city steeped in the blues I’d grown up loving. I swore I could hear the echo of old guitars in the air, like ghosts humming along the highway. After seeing the ghosts I had in Vicksburg, maybe I truly was hearing the sounds of ghosts playing the blues.

No man had ever embraced my love of genealogy, cemeteries, history, and the Civil War quite like Elijah had. Others had feigned interest, sure — but no one truly appreciated my version of ‘weird’ the way he did. With Elijah, it didn't feel like I was 'too much.' It felt like I finally made sense to someone.

Now, at long last, we were in the heart of the French Quarter — the one place that had topped my bucket list for at least the last fifteen years. Not just New Orleans, but the French Quarter specifically — the part I’d always wanted to see most.

I’d never been able to fully explain the pull I felt toward the French Quarter. Maybe it was seeing my last name, LaRue, on street signs in old photos and travel shows. Maybe it was the stories — from documentaries, from friends who’d visited — that always made it feel familiar, even from afar. It was like déjà vu without memory — the sense that I was meant to belong there, even if I didn’t know why.

With my laptop bag over one shoulder and my purse in hand, I followed Elijah from the parking lot toward his family’s compound — the ‘Abattoir,’ as he’d called it. I’d spoken to Rebekah on the phone, and the others had added me on Facebook, but I still had no idea what to expect. The people I was about to meet, they weren't just people — they were legends, monsters, immortals. And I was about to walk straight into their home.

The biggest reason for my growing anxiety? They were all vampires. Just because Elijah could control his thirst didn’t mean the others would. What guaranteed me that same safety with them? And Freya — she was a witch, yes, but could she protect me from her own vampire siblings if it came down to it? Would she even want to? I'd never been afraid of the dark itself. I was afraid of what might smile back at me from inside it.

I paused just a step behind Elijah at the front gate of the compound. I acted like I was just taking in the building — the architecture, the atmosphere — but really, I was stalling. Waves of fear rolled through me, thick and nauseating. And yet, underneath it all, something else was stirring. Excitement, maybe. Or something close to it. The kind of thrill someone might feel right before the curtain rises, or the roller coaster drops — fear braided with wonder. 

Elijah stopped too, glancing back at me with a soft smile. “A lot of European influence in the architecture,” he said. “We spent many centuries there before coming here.” I was grateful he didn’t mention the nerves practically radiating off me. If he noticed, he was choosing to be kind. He was offering comfort to me the only way he knew how — through facts, history, familiarity. And somehow, it helped. 



I stood there for another moment, swallowing down my fear. 'Now or never, Vandalia. You can’t stand out here all night,' I told myself. It was too late to turn back to the safety of home. Too late to say no and risk breaking Elijah’s heart — not that I ever wanted to. Besides, I’d spent so much of my life standing on the threshold of things. It was time to walk through the door.

“It really is beautiful,” I said softly, stepping forward again. Beyond the gate, the compound opened into a vast indoor courtyard — elegant, and grand. For a moment, I thought the space was open to the sky, but then I realized it was covered by a towering glass ceiling. I found myself hoping it was built to withstand hurricanes, hailstorms, and whatever else New Orleans weather could throw at it. The way the courtyard blurred the line between indoors and out felt like a metaphor for Elijah himself — part of the world, yet set apart from it.

As I gazed up at the glass, another thought hit me — Elijah’s daylight ring. This entire courtyard must be bathed in sunlight during the day. That had to mean the others wore daylight rings too. It was strange, the idea of vampires designing a home to welcome the sun — as if daring the world to believe they weren’t monsters. It even had me second guessing my own beliefs. Were they monsters or weren't they?

Just as I started to take in the rest of the courtyard, a chorus of voices called out from the staircase nearby: “Welcome home.” I turned toward the sound and saw several unfamiliar faces — unfamiliar, but not unknown. I’d seen them all on Facebook. Seeing them in real life, though, was something else entirely. Photographs didn’t capture presence. Power. Energy. They were beauty personified. They were a kind of other-worldly beautiful that you only saw in television shows and movies, or perhaps imagined your favorite characters looking like in a book.



There they were — Elijah’s sisters, Rebekah and Freya; his half-brother, Klaus; and Rebekah’s boyfriend, Marcel. My eyes swept over each of them, but I lingered on Freya and Klaus. Was it because of the dream? The one that still clung to me, even after all these hours? I didn’t know why I’d dreamed it — or why seeing them now made it all feel so much more real. Like pieces of some long forgotten puzzle had just clicked into place. Or maybe like I was waking up inside the dream itself.

Seeing them in person — remembering that strange dream where we’d been so close — sent the butterflies in my stomach into a frenzy. I could still feel the ghost of Freya’s hand in mine. Still see Klaus’s icy blue eyes locking onto mine. It wasn't attraction, exactly. It was something older. Stranger. Like a memory that wasn't mine. My heart was probably skipping beats, but I couldn't find the strength to care.

One by one, the Mikaelson's descended the stairs and pulled Elijah into warm embraces, welcoming him home although he hadn’t been gone very long at all. Then, all eyes turned to me. “Everyone… this is Vandalia LaRue,” Elijah introduced me. I couldn't help but feel a chill run up and down my spine at the way it felt to be introduced to them, to be face-to-face with them. The way Elijah's voice had sounded, he made me feel like a prize. A real treasure.

I stepped a little closer, doing my best to keep the nerves from showing on my face. “Thank you all so much for opening your home to me,” I said quietly, offering a tentative smile. As I glanced between each of them, I realized that their eyes were ancient and their beauty was inhuman. And yet, in that moment, I wanted so badly for them to like me.



“You’re even more stunning in person,” Klaus said, his voice wrapped in a thick British accent. My knees wobbled — just slightly — and I flicked my green eyes up to meet his baby blue ones. Just like in the dream, they stole my breath. “Th-thank you,” I managed to say. There was a knowing in his gaze, something definitive and sharp — like he saw more than just me standing there but hesitated in saying another word.

“Oh come now. You look like we’re all about to eat you,” Rebekah teased as she brushed past the others and wrapped me in a hug. After our phone call, her familiar presence helped calm my nerves — if only slightly. She smelled of a delicate floral scent, like a perfume that was from centuries ago, from a flower that no longer existed.



I returned her warm hug and laughed at her choice of words. “Room full of vampires, one human — I can’t say it didn’t cross my mind once or twice,” I murmured, pulling back just a bit with a playful smile. Joking helped. Humor felt like the last scrap of armor I had left other than Elijah himself.



“Don’t tempt us,” said the man I knew as Marcel. “Welcome to the Quarter.” He stepped in for a hug, following Rebekah’s lead. Already, I was surprised by their kindness to me and how it seemed they truly were elated in meeting me. Then, Elijah's older sister, Freya, moved a little closer.

“I’m afraid we haven’t spoken yet,” she said softly, extending a hand. “I’m Freya.” Her voice was gentle, almost cautious — like someone who carried too much weight and had learned to speak carefully. She was different from the rest of them; she carried herself differently. Was it because she was a witch and not a vampire? Even still, she was just as other-worldly beautiful. Freya was just as ancient, wasn't she?

Something about her felt quieter, more reserved than the others — not off-putting, just somehow, familiar. I was feeling the same way. “Elijah’s said so much about his sisters. He really adores you both,” I said softly, taking her hand. There was warmth in her palm — but something else, too. A low hum beneath the surface.

A sudden jolt of static made me flinch — but it wasn’t just static. It felt eerily similar to the first time Elijah touched me. And this time, I swore I saw green sparks flicker between our hands. Since when was static electricity green? The color reminded me of something, though I couldn’t say what. Something old. Something buried deep within.



“I’m so sorry,” Freya said quickly, starting to pull her hand back. I held it a moment longer. “No, don’t be. I probably got charged up in the car or something,” I laughed, blushing. “M-my hand did the same thing the first time I touched Elijah,” I added, voice softer now. Freya’s eyes sharpened with curiosity, like she was trying to piece something together.

“Funny, I didn’t feel a jolt,” Rebekah said, glancing at Marcel. He shook his head. “Me either.” Everyone seemed puzzled as Freya and I slowly let our hands fall away. And then, I realized someone else had stepped in front of me. I lifted my eyes from the soft gray fabric of his shirt — and met the sharp, ice-blue stare of Klaus. He stood too close — not rudely, but deliberately. Like he was trying to decide what I was or deeper still, who I was.



We were inches apart. Part of me was scared. The other part? I didn't want to admit what it felt. "I'm curious if we'd have a reaction," Klaus said, wonder flickering in his eyes. It wasn't just curiosity in his voice — it was recognition, like he already knew the answer.

I hesitated. What if we did have a reaction? What if it felt like the dream — real, overwhelming, undeniable? After what happened with Freya, I was already unsettled. Another connection like that would make it harder to explain away. Dreams shouldn’t echo into reality like this — not unless they meant something.

Why did this matter so much? Why was I so concerned over a simple dream? I was falling in love with Elijah — not his older sister and half-brother. That's how love worked, right? You chose one person. They chose you back. That was it. That was enough. Wasn't it? But magic — if that’s what this was — never seemed to follow the rules. Television shows and movies had taught me that much.

"Don't keep me in suspense all night," Klaus murmured, extending his hand. I bit my pierced lower lip, bracing myself — and slowly, hesitantly, took it. The air shifted, like the room was holding its breath with me, or possibly with both of us. Did Klaus feel similarly? As I looked into his baby blue eyes that seemed full of curiosity, I couldn't help but wonder. 

A sharp jolt surged through me, the strongest yet, and I clutched his hand with a startled gasp. A chill rolled down my spine. The sparks were back — not green this time, but red. Vivid, crackling, alive. Red, like fire. Red, like blood. Red, like the color of the deepest of loves.



As the red sparks faded, I began to pull away — but Klaus didn’t let go. I tensed, but stayed still. "I've never felt anything like this," he murmured, eyes wide with something between awe and disbelief. It was the first time he seemed uncertain since I'd walked into the courtyard. That made it worse. 

Klaus's fingers trailed up my arm as if he were enamored by the sensation happening between us — and I let out a quiet, involuntary sound. It wasn't a sound of pain or displeasure, in fact, I was afraid it was a sound of excitement. Even more so, enjoyment. In less than a breath, Elijah was beside me, gripping his brother's arm with sharp intent. His arrival was silent, but thunderous. The room seemed to tilt in his direction as if for just a moment.



Instinctively, I reached for Elijah's arm to remove it from Klaus. I could see how tightly he was grasping him and for some odd reason, it's as if it pained me to witness. "He's not hurting me, I promise," I said quickly, even though I didn't know why I was defending Klaus. "Do you remember the first time we touched? The blue sparks?" I whispered. I thought I'd imagined them. I thought I had been the only one who noticed. Suddenly, I had a deep craving to know I hadn't been alone in that.

"You saw the sparks between us, too?" Elijah asked, a hint of disbelief in his voice. I nodded. "I don't know why it's happening. I just... I hope it's not something bad." I looked between the two brothers. "Please don't fight. Not because of me. I'm not worth it." Elijah's grip on Klaus's arm loosened — then he completely let go. The space between them felt fragile, like it could shatter with the wrong word. I was surprised Elijah had let my comment of 'I'm not worth it' slip by him, but it seemed for now, he did. 

"When I saw the blue sparks with you, Elijah, I thought that maybe it was just static. Because static electricity is blue, right? Then Freya — green. I thought maybe because she’s a witch? But Klaus," my voice cracked. "I don't have an explanation for that." Not to mention, the red had felt different. Stronger, wilder somehow. I dared not say that out loud.

Elijah and I had touched a dozen times since this afternoon — but this time, as we slowly reached for each other’s hands, the sparks returned. Blue. Brighter. Stronger. A chill raced through me, tinged with something euphoric, like something cosmic. And just as quickly as they came, the sparks faded. I was no longer convinced they meant nothing. Something like this? It had to mean something.



“It’s not just sparks for me. It’s how I feel when you touch me,” Elijah murmured. “It’s the most euphoric sensation I’ve ever experienced,” he added quietly as Freya came up behind him. “It was the same for me. That’s why I wanted to pull away instinctively. It was like a wave of serenity washed over me—so calm, so unfamiliar,” she explained.



They turned to their brother, who stood silently, mouth slightly agape, his piercing blue eyes betraying something between wounded disbelief and raw curiosity. “There aren’t words,” Klaus muttered, visibly frustrated—perhaps even with himself. His tone reflected my own inner feelings of frustration with this entire situation and yet, we both seemed more curious than only moments before. 

“There aren’t words to describe what I just felt, and how I even feel after. It’s like you’ve put a spell on me—or something that works just like one,” Klaus murmured. “It’s addictive. You feel it once, and suddenly you’re chasing that feeling. Like a high you can’t forget.” Elijah’s eyes flicked to Klaus, a glimmer of understanding passing between them—like shared addicts drawn to the same flame. My heart fluttered at the mere notion of a couple thousand year old creatures such as themselves being drawn to me.

“What about you? What does it feel like for you?” Klaus was suddenly closer to me. “I-it’s like what each of you described. Peaceful, yet euphoric. You crave it—you ache when it’s gone. It’s like the kind of love they talk about in fairy tales and movies. You know, the kind where they say, ‘At the first touch, I knew.’” My voice trailed off, unsure if I sounded foolish. How could I not? Their expressions told me I wasn’t alone in feeling something world-shifting. It scared me—how fast the center of my world was changing.



"Well, I feel a little left out not having felt that," Rebekah said, frowning after a pause. Marcel elbowed her playfully. "Really? Am I chopped liver? You'd have my head if I'd said that out loud," he teased. They both laughed and wore playful smirks which, if I'm being honest, eased the tension just the tiniest bit. At least someone was having a good laugh at the situation that currently had my stomach in all kinds of knots.



“When Kol and Davina get here, we’ll keep putting it to the test,” Freya said softly. Elijah looked from Klaus to me. “I first thought it when the blue sparks appeared during our touch—and again last night. I wonder if you might be a witch, Vandalia,” he murmured. The way he’d said it so composed, like it was normal to be a witch.

My eyes widened slightly. I must’ve looked completely confused. Witch? There's no way... “Hear me out—it’s not just tonight’s phenomenon with the sparks. Vandalia’s a genealogist. She’s always felt a strong pull toward her ancestors. Maybe it’s ancestral magic. Is there one branch of your family that’s always called to you more than the others?” Elijah asked.

My immediate answer? I wanted to say ‘LaRue’ because that was the line of my tree I had always felt the deepest connection with. I froze in my response, however, and murmured a different branch of my family tree. “The Gibsons—the ones I was telling you about. That’s my direct matrilineal line.” My maternal grandmother’s maiden name was Thompson. Her mother was a Nally, and hers a Gibson. I’d always felt a special connection with her Gibson heritage, that was no lie.

I was named after my Great-Great-Great-Grandmother, Vandalia Gibson. When I was a young girl, I used to sit for hours reading her letters and journals. She always felt more like a guardian than a distant relative. My Great-Great-Grandmother, Vandalia's daughter, Mary Janella, had also kept a journal. My Grandmother had known Vandalia, and my Mom had known Mary Janella. The two of them were spoke about with the most fondness and sincerity. I always got the feeling that they had been exceptional women in their time.

Not one time did I ever get the feeling that we’d been witches while reading Vandalia’s or Mary Janella’s journals. If they’d been witches, why wouldn’t they have written about it? Any little ol’ mention would have been enough for me to start questioning, digging to find out more. There was nothing in those journals. Now I questioned if there were others that had been kept secret, away from my prying eyes. Could they have had grimoires— spell books?

When I’d said those words, it was as if a small revelation came over at least Freya and Elijah. “Matrilineal magic is some of the strongest magic there is,” Freya admitted. “Our own magic is matrilineal,” Elijah added. 

I just couldn’t wrap my head around it. “I’m thirty years old—surely I’d know if I were a witch by now. I’ve always believed this kind of stuff existed, just not for me. Not in my life. There’s no way,” I mumbled.



“You’re never too old to learn something new about yourself,” Freya said softly and reached out, taking my hand again. I didn’t feel the electric jolt this time, but it was that same euphoria washing over me again. The green sparks were also there. “Magic is simple, really—if you have it. You can visualize it, see it. It’s like seeing someone’s aura,” she explained.

“Think about yourself and what color represents you,” Freya went on. “I know what color would represent me. I’ve always known because it’s the color I feel most connected to,” I murmured. I didn’t say it aloud. Not yet. It felt like naming it might give it too much weight—or make it too real.

“What color represents you, Freya?” I asked and watched our hands, green sparkles and a green mist enveloping them. “Green,” she whispered, “which makes it all the more curious. Perhaps you see my aura as green as well.” 

I looked over towards Klaus and Elijah. “But why blue for Elijah, and red for Klaus?” I was genuinely curious. “What color do you two think represents you each?” I questioned them. 

The two of them looked like a couple of deer caught in the headlights, not really having an answer for it. Then, slowly—but with the force of a bag of hammers—it hit me. “It’s just a theory but — Freya is a witch so of course the sparks would be the color of her own magic. But, you two aren’t witches. Not anymore, anyway. So the sparks were colors that represent me if I’m a witch, not you.” 

It was as if I was the only one on this page of the book currently. Even Freya had her brow raised at me, waiting for a further explanation. It was just a hunch within my mind, thinking back to elementary school and the primary colors. Honestly, I was surprised that I remembered anything to do with colors and artistry, I was rubbish at it.

“What color do red and blue make when they’re put together?” I questioned and it was Elijah who realized it first and spoke. “Purple, which is your favorite color, of course,” his voice trailed. 

“Care to test a theory of mine?” I asked, biting on my lower lip out of nervousness. It was either going to work or it wasn’t. I just prayed it wouldn’t backfire on me somehow. Slowly, Elijah stepped closer to me as a willing participant. 

I looked over to Klaus. Every time I looked at him, I felt so weak at the knees and I couldn’t explain it. I didn’t even have that much of a knees-weak reaction to Elijah. I extended each of my hands out, one for Klaus, and one for Elijah to take hold of. 

They looked between each other and after a few seconds, each of them took one of my hands. Sure enough, as I suspected, the jolt that ran through me was the strongest one yet, and how I remained composed was beyond me. But more importantly than that — the sparks that came from me, they were purple. Purple—royalty, power, magic. It wasn’t just my favorite color anymore. It was me.



I felt both Elijah and Klaus flinch — whether they realized I could sense it or not. “Wow,” I whispered as the sparkles slowly began to fade away. I remained in Klaus’s and Elijah’s grasp, taking in how it felt to have both of their touch upon me at the same time. “It’s like I’m only complete when I’m with both of you,” I murmured, barely aware I’d said it aloud.

A wave of awkwardness washed over me as reality set in — I was holding hands with two ancient vampires, unraveling the truth that I might’ve been a witch my whole life. And stranger still, I’d triggered a reaction from their older sister, but not the younger one. Why had there only been sparks between Elijah, Freya, and Klaus, when I touched them? Why not Rebekah? Hell, why not Marcel?

Slowly, I dropped my hands from their grasp and turned away from them both. I was embarrassed, and a part of me even felt ashamed that this had happened — that I’d brought all of this with me to their home. They’d been so beyond gracious to invite me, a perfect stranger that their brother was falling in love with, into their home to celebrate a family holiday with them and stay for a bit of respite — and this was how I was repaying their kindness?

I wanted to run, but there was nowhere to hide. Especially not from thousand year old vampires who knew this city like the back of their hands. I knew no one here in New Orleans and I was too far from home to call a friend or a family member to come rescue me. The scarier part — even though I felt like running, the only arms I wanted to run into were Elijah’s. Even scarier than that? I wanted to run into Freya’s arms… and Klaus’s, too.

“I’m so sorry this is happening,” I whispered. “I feel so guilty... like I don’t even know who I am anymore.” I wrapped my own arms around my torso, as if trying to hold myself together — but it wasn’t enough. On the surface, I felt lost and scared in a world that wasn't my own. Yet deep inside? I craved to belong in this world that I didn't understand. I suddenly felt Elijah wrapping his arms around me from behind and I melted into his embrace.



“None of this is your fault, Vandalia. None of us here are strangers to the unusual, and whatever is going on is indeed unusual. Perhaps coming in contact with other supernatural beings is bringing out the magic you’ve always had inside of you.” 

“He’s right, that could be it,” Freya said softly, a sound to her voice like she, too, wanted to comfort me. “Meeting my brother might have been the open door your magic needed,” she added. 

Elijah chuckled ever so softly. “Funny, my sister uses that same language. Last night, when I revealed what I truly was and you didn’t run -- I remember thinking to myself, that it was as if your soul had craved a doorway to the supernatural world all along. Perhaps, I was right.” 

“And what about the doors she’s opening for all of us?” It was the first time I'd heard Klaus’s voice for a few minutes. “Brother?” Elijah questioned him as he pulled back from me, allowing me to turn around and look at Klaus now. I realized that he looked hurt. Not furious, not jealous — just wounded. As if something precious had slipped through his fingers.

“You’re like a magnet. Even Freya feels it — I can see it, how she hovers close, but never too close. It’s as if she touched us and now has left hooks deep within.” Klaus sounded like he had venom in his tone as he spoke. 

Klaus’s words wounded me, and I wasn’t entirely sure why they cut so deep. Who was Klaus Mikaelson to me, besides the brother of the love of my life? Why should his words have this kind of effect on me? And yet, something in me reeled at his disapproval, as if I'd disappointed someone far more important than I could explain. Was it still because of the dream I’d had last night? Was it because I was a guest in his family’s home? 

"You're the one whose curiosity killed the cat," I whispered toward Klaus, surprised I even had the audacity. Then again, if I'd ever had anything, it was always the audacity. "You're the one who wanted to touch me and see if something would happen." I looked down at my hands to see if there were any leftover sparks — there weren’t. "I thought what Elijah and I felt was love. But maybe it isn't. Maybe it's some kind of magic I never asked for — and never had control over." 

Those were the words that scared me the most — I had no control over it. I suddenly felt like Elsa from Frozen, standing on the edge of a storm I couldn’t contain. But the words that pained me most? Admitting that maybe Elijah didn't love me after all. And worse, that maybe I didn't truly love him, either. 

Just as I had feared — maybe this entire situation was one giant red flag. I’d leaped without looking once again. I was so sure of how I felt, though. No — no past tense here. I know I’m sure about the way I feel for Elijah Mikaelson. I refused to run just because of a tiny— okay, maybe not so tiny— complication.

"You may have magic you never knew about, but what's between us isn't that. It's not magic, Vandalia,” said Elijah as he brought himself closer to me once more. Placing a fingertip on my chin, he slowly lifted my head until our gaze met. Elijah’s brown eyes had become a haven for me over the last two days. 



“My siblings and I weren’t born yesterday. We’ve been under the influence of magic before, many times in fact. Freya, herself, is still a powerful witch. This isn’t magic. This is something cosmic, destiny if you will. As for me, I do not doubt my feelings for you, not even for a second. I am falling irrevocably in love with you.” Elijah's words made me light-headed. I felt my breath hitch, and warmth spread through my chest like a fire catching kindling.

For a moment, I felt like this absolutely had to be a dream. There was no way that a man as incredible as Elijah Mikaelson was falling in love with me. I was just a thirty year old woman, a genealogist from a small river town in Kentucky. On top of that, there was just no way I could be a witch. I felt like all of my dreams were starting to come true, even those I’d had in my childhood. Dreams rooted deeply in fairytale.

"I have to agree with my brother," Freya said softly. "I do feel what Klaus described — like we’re bound to each other, but not by a spell. It feels like a thread of fate." Freya's voice had trailed off at the end. 

Those words made Klaus look over to us. "A thread of fate tied to some back-country girl from nowhere? How is that possible — and better still, why?" His words, yet again, sounded venomous and they hurt me more than I expected them to. My face flushed, and I looked away. Why did his contempt hurt so much? Why did it feel like rejection from someone I hadn’t even meant to impress?

“I haven’t any more of a clue than you do, brother,” replied Elijah. How was Elijah staying so cool at the way his brother, Niklaus, spoke to me? I was feeling so many emotions — anger and sadness mostly but it felt like a million different emotions all at once. I just didn’t understand it. I guess Elijah had many centuries of practice dealing with what he’d called Niklaus’s ‘ill-temper.’  

“One of Vandalia’s closest friends suggested the idea of soulmates. And from the moment I met her, it was like something beyond either one of us stirred — as if I’d known her long before this life. Perhaps I will again in the next. Maybe that’s true for each of us, Niklaus,” Elijah continued. 

“Soulmates. That would explain the feeling,” Freya’s voice was barely above a whisper. “I’ve never felt such a strong desire to know someone before,” she admitted and looked over to Klaus. “You feel it, too, brother. That’s why you’re acting the way you are. Elijah isn’t the only one who will fall in love with Vandalia,” Freya stated as if it was a written prophecy. A hush fell over the room. Even Klaus’s venom and fire seemed momentarily stunned into silence. 

“Well, what do you know? My siblings have managed to get themselves all tangled up in a knot called love — and poor Vandalia is smack in the middle of it,” Rebekah’s voice was a refreshing sound because my head was absolutely spinning at that moment. I felt like I might cry, scream, or even vomit — maybe all three at once. The weight of their words pressed down on me, and I couldn’t breathe past the swell of emotions gathering inside me.



Rebekah made her way over to me and gently took my hand. “You’re exhausting the poor girl — she hasn’t even been here thirty minutes. You must be tired from the trip, Vandalia, and now all of this,” she said, clearly sympathetic. Just the simple touch of Rebekah taking my hand, it calmed me in a way that I hadn't expected. I was grateful for it, truly.

“A little bit, yeah,” I whispered, nodding in what felt like defeat. “Mostly, I just feel hurt — like I caused all of this. I never meant for any of it to happen. Two thoughts keep looping in my mind. The first is that this is some elaborate dream after I jumped into the river the other night. The second…” I paused, voice catching slightly. The heaviness settled deep in my chest — shame, confusion, the quiet ache of not belonging. “Maybe it’s a sign I should have jumped.” 

I could see the flicker of pain in Elijah’s eyes — I hadn’t meant to hurt him. I was just being honest. “My dear, you’re here for a reason,” Rebekah said, guiding me toward my bags. “It’s clear to me Elijah was meant to save you. And maybe… maybe you’re meant for more than you ever imagined.” With graceful ease, she lifted my heaviest bags and led me up the staircase to the gallery.

Rebekah’s words had weight to them — ‘maybe you’re meant for more than you ever imagined.’ As I’d told Elijah on the dock, I’d always felt like I wasn’t living up to what I was put on Earth to do. I felt like there had to be a destiny for me and it was beyond what I’d been living. 

Meeting a vampire at my darkest hour when I’d prayed for a red bird, a sign from above to save me from killing myself? Coming to New Orleans and learning that I might be a witch? Was I finally on the road to that glorious purpose that deep in my soul I felt had always been calling out to me?



I tried to focus on anything but what had just happened — the staircase’s ornate carvings, the antique paintings lining the walls. My eyes saw them, but I wasn’t sure my mind was truly registering any of it beyond the fact they were beautiful and this entire place? It was the most lavish home I’d ever been inside.

You didn’t need vampyric hearing to know someone was following us. I was too emotionally drained to look back, so I just kept walking with Rebekah until we reached a large, luxurious room that took my breath away.

“Freya and I thought it could use some updating — something more personal,” Rebekah said as we stepped inside. She placed my luggage beside the bed with practiced grace. I didn’t even have to turn around to know it was Elijah who’d followed us up.



“You must have told them everything I liked — purple, astrology, astronomy, and even my Hogwarts house,” I said with a soft laugh, sinking onto the bed and glancing around in awe. It felt surreal — like they had reached into my chest and pulled out the most hidden parts of me, just to make me feel seen.

“Dadie. She must’ve told you more than just the places I wanted to travel,” I said, my voice dipping softer. That had to be how Elijah knew I was a Hufflepuff — and how he’d gotten my exact star chart in such vivid, perfect detail on the wall. I had a feeling Freya had crafted it — she was a witch, after all, probably the most well-versed in astrology in the whole house. I hadn’t realized how much I’d wanted to be known this deeply — until now.

I could’ve never dreamed of a room like this. Even my bedroom back home paled in comparison. “I wanted you to know that you matter — that you’re seen, down to the littlest details,” Elijah said softly, and I smiled.

“Thank you all for this. It means a lot — it really, really does,” I murmured, feeling my cheeks tint the faintest pink. From the doorway, I caught Rebekah raising her phone and snapping a few quick photos. I startled slightly but tried not to let it show. Part of me wanted to freeze this moment, too — this strange, beautiful sense of belonging.



“I hope you don’t mind,” Rebekah said with a near-apologetic smile. “Elijah told us you love capturing moments — photos, memories, things that matter.” I smiled gently. I was glad he’d told her. I was glad they’d listened.

“I do. I’m just… not used to it, really. There’s so much from my past — special memories with special people that I wish I’d captured. I was either too shy or too scared at the time.” I gave a small shrug. “Now, I document everything I can. I make scrapbooks — physical memories I can hold on to later. I feel like piecing them together helps me make sense of where I've been — and where I’m going in life."

“My brothers prefer journals,” Rebekah laughed. “Elijah mentioned them to me,” I said, nodding. “I write too, whenever I can — little things, like stories or poems. I even run a genealogy blog with entries about my hometown and family history.” For just a moment, I had embarrassed myself by bringing up genealogy and my love of history and my hometown yet again. I had to sound as if I was a broken record. “I’ll have to look it up,” Rebekah said, eyebrows lifting with genuine interest. “We do love a good origin story in this family.”



“I find that fascinating,” Freya said as she entered with a tray of cups balanced in her hands. I’d been wondering where she’d gone. I had hoped everything downstairs hadn’t offended her or put her off to getting to know me. “I thought we might enjoy some tea or coffee. Drinker's choice,” she murmured, setting the tray gently on the bedside table.

I reached for a coffee, adding a splash of creamer and sugar, stirring slowly. The clink of porcelain and the faint scent of coffee filled the room — simple things, but grounding. This was feeling like home already. How could it not? Surrounded by beings that I felt so comfortable to be near, in a room that was so beautifully decorated and curated to my personal tastes, and now drinking coffee in the middle of the night among people I viewed as friends— perhaps more, like family. 



“Thank you, Freya. This is really thoughtful,” I said softly, taking a sip of the warm nectar. Caffeine wasn’t supposed to be calming — but somehow, it settled me. I think it was the familiarity of coffee, not necessarily an addiction or a habit, but the familial sensation of drinking it. It was late, technically, but I didn’t think anyone here would be tucking me into bed anytime soon.

As I clung to the warm coffee cup, the feeling of 'home' washed over me once more. Everyone had been so welcoming so far, even Klaus in his own way, despite our small hiccup downstairs. As Elijah had warned me, he was rough around the edges. Even with him, I somehow felt like I belonged. 

I hadn’t been here a full hour yet and I was already realizing that each of them had their own personality, their own dynamic that they brought to the table. Somehow, they all fit together. Even Marcel, who was only Rebekah’s boyfriend — they all were so perfectly dysfunctional together. 

Even though I hadn’t met their brother Kol, or their sister-in-law Davina yet, I knew this sense of belonging wasn’t going to go away once I met them. If anything, something deep within me knew that this feeling was only going to grow stronger.

“I really am sorry for all the chaos I brought into your lives,” I said quietly, taking another sip of my coffee. “But I wouldn’t change this. Not for anything.” Despite how hectic my arrival had been, I could breathe easier here — in this home, in this city. Easier than I had in years. It wasn't just New Orleans. It was them. The way they made space for me — like I belonged before I even asked.

“I’m an only child,” I continued, glancing between Freya, Rebekah, and Elijah. “And over the years, I’ve grown apart from the cousins I was close to growing up. I have five best friends that I refer to as my soul sisters, and of course I have numerous casual friends and acquaintances. But this? What you all have here? It’s a dream for someone like me.”



“I don’t regret a single moment of this,” Elijah said as he sat beside me on the plush bed. Even the bedding was a rich, royal shade of purple. I made a mental note — I wanted to decorate my bedroom back home like this one day.

“How could I ever regret saving someone so special? So pure of heart?” Elijah asked as I set my coffee down and he gently took my hand. His words wrapped around me like velvet. And for the first time in a long time, I believed someone meant it. Elijah had told me I'd learn he was a man of his word; he most certainly was.



The blue sparkles returned — softer this time, not electric, but warm. Steady. Like a glow that lived in our skin. “This will never get old to me,” I whispered, watching the shimmer dance around our joined hands. I was truly mesmerized and it seemed that Elijah was, too.

Then I glanced toward the doorway — and saw Klaus standing there, watching us. His expression was unreadable — not cold, but not entirely warm either. Just still, as if taking it all in.



In that moment, Klaus looked like an abandoned puppy — forgotten and unwanted — and it hurt to feel what I was feeling toward him. I couldn’t ignore it anymore — the growing pull inside me. I didn’t just want to be close to Elijah now. I wanted to be close to Freya... and to Klaus, too.

Despite what he’d said earlier — and the venom laced in his words — I still wanted to know him better. And if I was being honest — really honest — the strongest pull out of the three wasn’t Elijah or Freya. It was Klaus.

I felt guilty because of that but I also realized it was out of my control. I had come to the realization that all of this was out of my control and I was going to have to just sit back and enjoy the ride. 



“Come sit?” I offered gently. For a moment, he looked like he might refuse. Like a silent prayer, I hoped he would accept the offer. “Am I truly wanted at this cozy little affair?” Klaus asked, his thick British accent curling around the words like silk and steel. “Of course you are. I was surprised you didn’t follow everyone up,” I admitted softly, glancing to the empty space beside me. “There’s room here — if you want to join.”

Klaus hesitated, then slowly crossed the room and sat on the bed — the opposite side of where Elijah was still perched. “Freya brought tea and coffee,” I said, nodding toward the bedside table. Although, after I'd made the comment, I felt a little silly. His eyesight and sense of smell was better than mine so I was certain he not only saw the cups of coffee and tea but smelled their aromas, too.

I guess there was a part of me that was trying to be as gentle as I could be with Klaus. I got the feeling he had walls a thousand feet high, pun fully intended, and he wasn't going to let anyone close to him easily. I wanted to show him that even without knowing him properly yet, I cared about him already.

I cared about him because, somehow, I felt like he cared about me, though he didn’t know me at all. I felt like they all cared about me and for more reason than just ‘Elijah’s falling in love with you.’ To allow me to spend a family holiday with them and a whole two weeks in their luxurious abode — that didn’t whisper, it screamed ‘we care about you.’

“Coffee’s basically my lifeblood. I probably drink as much of it as you all do blood,” I joked, a soft laugh escaping me. I noticed a little smile creep onto Klaus’s lips at my attempt at a joke. 

“So, Vandalia’s blood will taste like straight caffeine. Noted,” Klaus teased as he reached for a cup, opting for coffee himself. The shift in his demeanor surprised me — softer, almost playful. And it was definitely welcome.

I had to try really hard to keep my heart from fluttering, although I wasn't sure why I was trying to force a skip of the heart not to happen. I guess I still felt guilty. Elijah should be the only one making my heart skip beats.



“Probably,” I laughed, reaching for my cup and taking another sip. “You’d have to ask Elijah, though,” I added, glancing over at him as I bit down gently on my lip ring out of shyness.

“Already sampled what she has to offer, brother? I’m surprised,” Klaus murmured, shooting his brother a look as he took a drink of coffee. I wasn’t sure if it was a look of ‘how could you’ or ‘I’m jealous of you’. Perhaps it was a look of both. Honestly, the latter thought made my heart really want to start fluttering.

I noticed a slight shift in Elijah's posture and the hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. I got the feeling that this type of brotherly banter happened between them a lot. I also got the feeling that I was going to be the shiny new thing they bantered often about. The thought of that made butterflies try to fly about in my stomach. I was beginning to fail at keeping my heart composed, the fluttering of my heart and the butterflies was just too extreme.

“I never would have — not without Vandalia’s explicit permission,” Elijah said firmly, standing from the bed and taking a cup of tea for himself. I hoped I hadn’t just sparked a rivalry. I’d been fought over by brothers before, and while that might’ve thrilled me as a teenage girl, this was different. These weren’t high school boys. These were thousand-year-old vampires. And that kind of fight? It could get me killed.

“I—If we’re being honest, I kind of bullied Elijah into it,” I admitted quietly,  hoping that wouldn’t upset Klaus, Freya, or even Rebekah. “He protested at first. I pushed, because I trusted him. I needed him to know that.” I gave Elijah a small, grateful smile before slowly letting my gaze drift over the others — Freya, Rebekah... and finally, Klaus.

“I trust all of you with my life — or I wouldn’t be here,” I said quietly. “I mean, I can’t protect myself from any of you. So I just have to have faith that I’m safe.” As I said those words, I felt Klaus’s fingers brush my arm. My heart kicked. My mouth went dry. His hand slipped down to mine. The moment our fingertips touched — the red sparks returned.



“I heard your apologies a moment ago, Vandalia, and I felt their sincerity,” Klaus murmured, his eyes lingering on our joined hands. He, too, seemed entranced by the red sparks still flickering between our fingers. Slowly, I laced my fingers through his, holding his hand properly — and I saw the surprise ripple across his expression. 

“I-I never in a million years could’ve dreamed of any of this. Your family’s kindness, Klaus... I don’t know how I’ll ever repay it,” I whispered, biting down gently on my lower lip. I felt like I would always owe the Mikaelson's something — and I wouldn’t have wanted it any other way at this point. I wanted to be in their debt — because I wanted to always be in their lives.

Then Klaus’s ice-blue eyes lifted from our hands and found my green ones. The butterflies in my stomach weren’t just fluttering — they were rioting. “If we really are tied by the thread of fate, then you’ll repay it the same way we will repay your kindness. Family is everything to us,” Klaus murmured, lifting my hand to his lips and brushing a delicate kiss across my skin.

If you’d told me just ten minutes ago that the same man who’d looked at me with such disdain downstairs — who had spat venom like I’d personally wronged him — would be holding my hand and kissing it? I’d have called you a lunatic. My head was spinning from the whiplash of it all.

I couldn’t have imagined such a change between the Klaus Mikaelson from downstairs and the one now kissing the back of my hand. Part of me still wanted to be angry — his words had hurt. But the other, much stronger part of me was completely disarmed by the way he made my knees weaken and set my insides ablaze with butterflies.

I gasped aloud as a chill swept up my spine. “We don’t abandon one another, no matter how ugly it gets,” Klaus murmured against my skin. Elijah’s voice came next, from the other side of me where he still stood with his cup of tea. “Always and forever. Our family motto. It’s endured for over a thousand years — and now, it extends to you, Vandalia.”

“But I’m not… f-family,” I stammered, unable to stop the tremble in my voice. “Blood and DNA don’t always make you family,” Elijah murmured. Of course I knew that already, but hearing it from someone with centuries of wisdom — someone who’d lived it — made it feel different. 

“The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb. I’ve preached that for years,” I said with a soft laugh. I’d probably repeated it a couple hundred times by now — but never had it meant so much. “I like this one. She knows her stuff,” Klaus said, smirking faintly.

I couldn’t stop myself from looking into his eyes again. “D-do you really like me? Or is it… whatever this is?” My gaze dropped to our hands. The red sparks had faded, but a faint crimson aura still lingered around our touch. Klaus’s skin was warm — dangerously so — and just like he’d said earlier… addicting. Everything about the Mikaelson's was addicting to me.

He slowly unlaced his fingers from mine, only to trail them lightly along the back of my hand. “Time will tell, little witch.” I shivered — not just from his touch, but from the way he said those two words. Little witch. Klaus’s voice was a drug. Everything about him was. I wanted him — all of him — even more than I wanted Elijah. And that… that was saying something.

I whimpered softly at Klaus’s touch before tearing my gaze away, turning toward Elijah. I felt helpless — completely caught between them. I reached for Elijah, and he immediately took my hand, returning with me to the edge of the bed. I let him pull me close, even as my other hand remained in Klaus’s grasp.



The red aura had faded — replaced by purple sparkles, now brighter than before. I let my eyes slip shut and nuzzled into Elijah, breathing in his cologne. It was a scent I’d come to love over the past few days. It was calming and comforting. 

“This whole room is glowing with a purple aura,” Freya said quietly from her place near the desk. That’s when I noticed Rebekah had quietly slipped out, leaving just the four of us — the ones who seemed to share this connection.



I opened my eyes slowly and realized what Freya was talking about as I turned my gaze over towards her. “I-I wish I understood all of it — the magic, the colors, the feelings,” I sighed. I was so inwardly conflicted that it wasn’t even funny. Yet somehow, I felt so at peace. 

“I thought just being near Elijah was peaceful — and it is. It’s the calmest I’ve ever felt. But since coming here tonight and feeling what I’ve felt with you two,” I glanced from Freya to Klaus as I spoke.

“I just know that when I’m with each of you, I feel whole. Happy. Maybe even loved — if that’s what this is. A-and when we’re all together? It just feels right. Like I’m finally complete.” I couldn't believe I'd just said those words out loud. I barely wanted to admit them to myself, let alone to the three ancient creatures who were gazing at me as if I was the missing puzzle piece they'd been searching for, for a thousand years.



Before I knew it, Freya had joined us on the bed. Without hesitation, she laid her hand over mine — the same one Klaus still held. There was something sacred in the moment — like four separate rivers converging into one. I couldn’t explain it, but I felt chosen. Bound. Not just to them, but to something far bigger. Destiny, maybe. Or fate finally stitching itself back together.

A powerful wave of serenity washed over me, and the purple glow intensified. I'd never felt anything like this in my entire life. As my heart fluttered furiously in my chest, I was coming to a rather deep and meaningful conclusion to why I felt the way I did. That conclusion both scared me and excited me.

“This must be why it never worked with anyone else — why nothing ever felt right,” I whispered, looking from Freya to Klaus, and finally to Elijah. “The loves of my life are a pair of thousand-year-old vampires, and a thousand-year-old witch. And apparently, I was made — somehow — for each of you,” I murmured. 

Elijah had already surrendered to his feelings — admitted he was falling in love with me. But Klaus and Freya? They’d only known me for a little over an hour. Freya — maybe because she’s a woman — felt more intuitive, more open-hearted. But Klaus? He had a wall up, plain as day.

I’d never wanted to break through a wall so badly. Whatever it took, however long — I was up for the challenge.

(9,586 words – roughly 48 pages.)

Notes:

Life update - a few days after I updated last, Jace Wayland did come home! (Thank the good lord!) This week has been calmer, but tonight we had severe weather (a tornado outbreak again.) Everything is fine here at home. Very minimal damage from a very strong wind gust, heavy rain, and that was it. (Shockingly, halfway through trying to upload this - our power went out for two hours! Thankfully it's been restored now!)

In other news - I got my first hateful review on here, because my story isn't a Klaroline story. Y'all, Klaroline is my absolute favorite ship in the TVDU (even if y'all don't think it ever *happened.*) In the last few weeks, I've actually gotten the idea for FIVE brand new Originals fanfictions, two of which Klaroline would be the main/primary ship. I don't want to give too many details away, obviously. If you're a huge Klaroline shipper, then you'll want to stay tuned. One of those fics, the other primary couple will be Haylijah. In the other? Camilijah. (I know, shocking ship there!)

Another irk the reader had was the 'stammer' my female characters have. I'm a nervous person, I'm an anxious person, and I stammer a bit in real life. I even have the Mikaelson's doing it here and there during anxious/nervous situations. Touch grass and live with it. Write your own characters without an ounce of anxiety, okay?

I also got called out on how my character, Vandalia, is the womp-Daddy of all Mary Sue's. I literally went into this story with Vandalia purposefully being a humongous Mary Sue. I can't believe any fan of the TVDU would EVER get upset at the idea of a Mary Sue character (for those who don't know, Mary Sue's are like an 'ultimate' 'all powerful' main character.) Y'all know who else was a Mary Sue in the TVDU? Elena Gilbert and Hope Mikaelson. Hope being the biggest Mary Sue since Bella Swan of the Twilight Saga. In MY opinion (and this is just MY opinion) - the version of Hope we get in T.O. and Legacies was a complete let down 'Mary Sue' wise. If you're going to write an ALL POWERFUL, ultimate character... at least do it right. So trust me, my story will be getting the Mary Sue angle right. You calling Vandalia a Mary Sue isn't an insult to me whatsoever. ChatGPT called my story a "fever induced Mary Sue dream." I'm 1000000000% okay with that.

In other news - we've hit 1,140 views for A&F! I can't thank y'all enough for checking out my story. In this chapter, you're finally going to meet more of the Mikaelson's. Vandalia is FINALLY in New Orleans. The first of many 'twists and turns' begin happening in this chapter. I hope you'll continue to read and follow along with them because again, we're only just getting started. My story is 700,000+ words in Scrivener and AO3 says we're up to 51,358 words in just 8 chapters so far. We've a LONG way to go y'all.

**An important thing I want to point out -- starting in this chapter, there will be photographs (I use Grok pretty exclusively now) that have Freya in them. Unfortunately, Grok does NOT know Riley Voelkel's face. I'm terribly upset by that (and saddened) so please, bear with me and my photographs. While in my mind, Freya is the beautiful, incredibly talented Riley -- for image purposes, she is the equally beautiful and talented, Natalie Dormer. (Margaery Tyrell was one of my all time fave GoT characters, btw.) At first I was going to use Laura Vandervoort (another actress I adore) but I feel like Natalie fits as Freya way more than Laura.**

As always, I will add: my story has a playlist on Spotify (that's public and anyone can listen to it!) that goes along with it. I wish I could put the songs in order and leave little notes on them to explain why each song is on the playlist; but just know the songs relate to/are about characters and situations that happen/will happen throughout the story.

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5vxkLYvWEGgrkWbLFdN42h

I've been advertising my story a lot on my Insta (CemeteryGirlx) and over on Tumblr (borntobeamikaelson). Y'all are more than welcome to follow me in either place! Love making new friends, especially when we enjoy the same fandom(s). (I apologize if I don't respond to the umpteen messages I get on either platform. I do stay fairly busy with my real life and my job!)

I do have to ask - have any of you picked up on any of the twists and turns this story is going to take, yet? I've left subtle little clues here and there, starting in chapter one. Let me know in a review if you've picked up on any! Also, let me know if you're excited to read my five future Originals-involved fanfictions. (And before y'all ask, no, the other five fictions won't have A.I. images that accompany them. Only this story will have the images because this story is quite literally my 'baby' if you will.)

Thanks for reading this super long author's note and thank you so much for checking out my story!

Chapter 10: Klaus's Point of View

Summary:

“Can fire and faith lie in the same bed? Can hands built for Heaven hold what crawled from Hell — and not let go?”

Chapter Ten:

The Darkness in Me: Met by the Light in Her

When my brother Elijah left for a town that could only be described as a tiny dot on a map the other evening, I never expected to receive a group text from him at three-something in the morning. Well, even if I had been expecting it — it didn’t contain what I thought it might.



It was a photograph of him with a beautiful young woman. One look into her eyes — in the 'selfie' as they call it nowadays — and I knew I had to covet her for myself. Someway, somehow. It was as if her bright green eyes were piercing straight through my soul. It was like she was calling out to me. I’d never been so spellbound by a single photograph, not in a thousand years.

I'd grown numb to beauty over the years. But not hers.

Afterward, in a phone call to our little sister, my brother confessed he was falling in love with the human woman — the most interesting woman he’d ever met, he said. Of course he was already falling for her, she was so enchanting. How could he not?

My brother, always the optimist, and always the hero. He’d told our little sister, Rebekah, how this fragile human had prayed for a sign from above — and she felt our brother was that sign. Elijah had saved the poor girl from taking her own life, and now she felt she owed him everything. Always the noble one, my brother.

As always, he swept in like a savior while had I been there, I would have been forced to watch from the shadows. I was sure from the moment he met this young woman that he'd filled her mind with nothing but the worst about me. I was the hated hybrid after all. If he'd told her about the supernatural world, then I'm sure she knew well enough by now exactly who and what I was. I'm sure Elijah warned her of the things I could and would do to her.

I admit, I was a bit pissed when Elijah told us — the very next day — that he was looking into purchasing real estate in that tiny town just to be near her. This Vandalia LaRue . I had no real reason to be pissed — what business was it of mine? But jealousy, it seems, is the one companion I’ve never quite shaken. I was completely justified in feeling such a way; Elijah had taken every woman I'd ever wanted from me and with great ease, too. At least, it felt that way to me.

There had only ever been two exceptions — Caroline and Camille. It wasn’t that my noble brother didn’t like Caroline or Camille, it was merely that their hearts belonged to someone else before we’d even come into the picture. Caroline was and forever will be in love with Tyler Lockwood — her high school sweetheart. Camille? When I blew into New Orleans like a fiery breeze, she was the flame in Marcel’s eye. Until Rebekah arrived home to New Orleans soon after.

Elijah implored he’d be home regularly, with and without Vandalia, and our family would continue on as normal. I doubted that very much — but I’d play along with my brother’s game. For now. Hell, I was bored with life as of late. I’d play along. Not to mention, I had found her quite stunning in the photograph he’d sent and after seeing more of her that he’d taken the next day — well, I looked forward to making her acquaintance. That was for sure.



The very last thing I imagined was that when the radiant woman walked into our courtyard shortly after midnight, I too would find myself just as mesmerized by her as my brother had been. Even though I had wanted to claim her for myself the second I’d seen that first photograph of them together. The feelings that washed over me when she stood before me in person — they were indescribable. 

Adding another layer to the onion — when Vandalia went to shake the hand of our eldest sister, Freya — green sparks flew around their touch. Vandalia admitted to the same sensation having happened for just a moment when she’d touched Elijah on the night they first met.



Like a cat, curiosity got the better of me. No reaction had occurred when our little sister Rebekah, and our friend Marcel had embraced the young human girl. I needed to know her reaction to me. I didn’t know which I was afraid of more — for there to be a reaction or for none to occur.

The surge of electricity that coursed through my body when we touched was unlike anything I had ever experienced. Red sparks flew from our hands, and when she gripped mine tighter — it was as if every thread tethering me to this Earth vanished. All but one: her.

There was a familiarity to the feeling, though I swore I had never felt anything like it in all my life. I had never seen a woman as beautiful as her — of that, I was absolutely certain. Still, I knew her. Somehow, I knew her. It was a knowing that lived in my bones, like I’d dreamed her face long before I’d ever laid eyes on it. The most powerful sense of déjà vu to ever wash over me. 

Who are you?



I was over a thousand years old and had endured much in my lengthy lifetime, but never — not once — had I experienced what this young mortal had stirred in me with a single glance and a simple touch. It was as if she had cast the strongest spell I’d ever known — but it didn’t feel quite like magic.

No. The term soulmates had been uttered, followed by whispers of the thread of fate. I was shocked when both Freya and Elijah admitted they, too, had felt it. This young woman had claimed she was falling in love with my brother Elijah — and yet here she was, gazing at Freya and me with those same beautiful green eyes. As if she now felt the same pull toward us, too. 

It frightened me, and not a lot could frighten me. Not centuries of war, not even running from Mikael for nearly our entire life — none of it shook me the way her gaze did. I was fear incarnate — the thing that slithered beneath the beds of monsters. I was the nightmare that haunted the boogeymen. I was the one hiding in their closets — not the other way around.



At last, our sister Rebekah intervened, whisking Vandalia off to the bedroom she and Freya had spent hours preparing that evening. At the time, I watched them now and then and nearly spat, dripping with venom: “Why all this effort for some tart of Elijah’s he’ll likely kill by week’s end?” Even now, that venom turns my stomach. I already loathe myself for it. I realized that venom came too naturally to me.



I hated myself for it — neither Vandalia nor Elijah had deserved that venom from me. The truth of the matter was — from the moment I first saw that photograph of her, it felt as though those green eyes had pierced straight into the deepest and darkest parts of my soul. I had begun to calculate how I might steal her away from Elijah.

Perhaps that’s why I reacted the way I did tonight in the courtyard with her. I saw how my words struck her — the hurt flickered in her eyes, whether she realized it or not. I know Vandalia hadn’t realized that I’d hurt myself by hurting her. 

But that plan I had so carefully concocted in the dark corners of my mind. That idea of stealing her from Elijah. The moment I met her eyes in the courtyard, and the way she looked at my brother and the way he looked at her — I could no longer go through with that plan. Especially after we touched each other for the first time. Everything changed — utterly, irrevocably.

I hadn’t followed the group upstairs initially — but her pull on me was magnetic, undeniable. I found myself getting closer, and closer. As though I were a mere human, compelled by her against my will. I heard Vandalia’s sincerity as she spoke to my siblings, and then, she noticed me in the doorway. 

The feeling that washed over me when Vandalia looked into my eyes was unlike anything I’d ever felt before nor did I ever expect to feel it again. It was as if she had me hypnotized. She asked me to join them and at first I wanted to refuse. Her voice was soft, but it hit me like a command etched in ancient stone — unyielding, inevitable.

Why should I entangle myself in this madness? As Rebekah put it — a ‘tangled up knot called love.’ Why did I want any part of this? Would this bring me power? No. Would this make the world fear me more than it already did? Highly unlikely.

I was the great Klaus Mikaelson. I didn’t need this black-haired, green-eyed, backwoods Barbie doll — and yet, I wanted her all the same. Even though I wanted to refuse her invitation — my body propelled me forward and the next thing I knew, I was sitting beside her and I was enjoying it.



Being so close to Vandalia, though, the scent of her blood danced beneath my nose. From the moment she stepped into the courtyard tonight, a frenzy had begun to brew within me. I’d never smelled a more delicious human. My hunger for her only grew more fierce when our brother admitted he’d already tasted her for himself. 

I was seething with jealousy. Jealousy — a childish, petty emotion — and yet, in that moment, it made me feel centuries younger and infinitely more dangerous. Why should Elijah get to have something so enchantingly beautiful and I should not?

Then we touched again, and every bit of that jealousy melted away. Her skin was pale — even compared to mine — as she held my hand, our fingers laced in quiet defiance of everything I thought I knew.



I knew she hadn’t noticed. No, she wasn’t a vampire — but she made me feel unsteady, anxious and exhilarated in equal measure. Elijah might have sensed it — the flicker of vulnerability in me — but he’d be the only one who could. I watched as Elijah rejoined us on the bed, and soon, the red sparks that had once flared from our touch deepened into violet.

In Vandalia’s own words — she was complete again. Freya joined us a moment later, and when she placed her hand gently atop Vandalia’s — still entwined with mine — the violet glow pulsed brighter, richer, as if affirming some forgotten truth from a lifetime we remembered not. 



“This must be why it never worked with anyone else — why nothing ever felt right,” Vandalia whispered as she looked between the three of us Mikaelson siblings. “The loves of my life are a pair of thousand-year-old vampires, and a thousand-year-old witch. And apparently, I was made — somehow — for each of you,” she murmured. 

“I’ve never been much on sharing, love,” I admitted, without pretense. What point was there in hiding? I was with two people who knew me better than anyone — Elijah and Freya — and now this perfect outsider who strangely no longer felt like one. 

“To be honest, I always looked down on people in polyamorous relationships. How did that even work? It just seemed like an excuse to fuck whoever you wanted, whenever you wanted. Like monogamy was too hard for today’s generation to grasp. But now?” Vandalia sighed, frustrated. For a moment, I thought she was going to say something else. Instead, her voice caught for a second, like the truth was on the tip of her tongue but refusing to form.

“I think it’s best we just take it all a moment at a time,” Freya said softly, pulling herself away to lie against the plush pillows at the other end of the bed. Oddly enough, it felt wrong not having her closer.

“I think it would also be wise to remember — as conflicted as we feel right now, Vandalia’s feeling it threefold. Tonight, we’ve put a lot on you, given everything that has transpired in the last hour.” Ever the diplomat, my brother. I watched as he rubbed Vandalia’s back as he spoke. 



“What have you put on me?” Vandalia asked quietly. “Look what I’ve put on each of you. Here I thought the scariest and most complicated part of all this was being in a new town around new people. B-being a human in a house full of vampires. Now that doesn’t seem scary or complicated at all compared to this.” A soft laugh escaped her — and to my ears, it was nothing short of a melody.

As I watched Elijah’s hand rub gently over Vandalia’s back, I longed to be that familiar with her. I could see the look upon our sister Freya’s face — she, too, wanted what Elijah was currently holding tightly in his arms. Her eyes followed every movement with quiet yearning, a flicker of loneliness she masked quickly behind a faint smile. 

“I’ve told you already, I’m not as fragile as you might have first believed, when we met on the dock. But tonight has definitely been a bit of a shock, I can’t deny that.” And I heard nothing but truth in her voice.

With a small smirk, I reached out and tapped her nose — a brief purple spark flickered between us. “In more ways than one, little witch,” I teased. I wasn’t sure what was coming over me. I’d never been like this in the past. Playful, yes — but not like this. This felt unlike me. Yet, it was completely natural with her.

Slowly, I watched her green eyes flutter open. “Thanks for the nose tickle,” Vandalia laughed, reaching out to return the gesture — a second purple spark flared between us.



“Careful, love. I’m the brother who bites,” I teased, pretending to nip at her fingertip with a playful snap of my teeth. I expected her to be surprised or perhaps even scared at my playfulness. Instead, it was now Vandalia who wore a smirk of her own and I admit, that smirk excited me. 

“Don’t tempt me with a good time. Ask your brother how that went." I wasn’t sure what thrilled me more — her brazen confidence, or the fact that it was directed at me this time. She turned her attention over to Freya. “Freya? Do you mind showing me where the ladies room is?” Vandalia questioned rather innocently.



“Sure, follow me.” And just like that, the two women vanished from the room far too quickly for my liking. Jealousy surged in me — sharp and sudden. Freya, my eldest sister, had stolen a private moment with the dark-haired enchantress I couldn’t stop thinking about.

Elijah and I were the only two left sitting on the plush bedding. I thought of partaking in more of my drink, but my coffee had gone cold — a poor substitute for her presence, anyway. Instead, I decided I’d question Elijah a bit more about his interactions with her the last few days.

“Care to share with the rest of the class?” I questioned my brother. He stood slowly, methodically smoothing the wrinkles from his suit — a ritual I’d seen him perform a thousand times across a thousand years. Maybe more.

“As it would seem, Niklaus, our little human is a bit of a deviant,” he said with a small hint of a smirk. A deviant? The word echoed, deliciously vague. My mind wandered to the countless things Elijah might’ve meant — and what that meant for me.

“Oh, do tell,” I purred, already intrigued. “She wasn’t exaggerating when she said she coaxed me into biting her. Vandalia’s persuasive when she wants to be. All she had to do was confess that she had a bit of a pain kink — that human men had bitten her hard enough to draw blood before. As you can imagine, I was rather intrigued.” Just listening to Elijah tell the story was enough to get me interested. 

“So? You’ve only fed on her once?” I asked. He shook his head. “Twice. And not once did she scream, faint, or cry. For her, it’s pleasurable bliss,” Elijah explained. “That’s not even the best part,” he added at the end with a bit of a devilish chuckle. Elijah practically wore a mischievous smirk upon his lips now. I couldn’t help but feel a flare of something possessive stir in my chest — not jealousy, exactly, but something adjacent. Something dangerous.



“Well, out with it,” I said, fully engrossed now whether I wanted to be or not. “Perhaps you should find out for yourself, Niklaus,” Elijah replied. “I’d hate to ruin the effect on you.” I narrowed my eyes at him, acting superior with the information he possessed.

Elijah was playing a game I knew all too well — because usually, I was the one who mastered it. Waves of jealousy threatened to crash over me again. Rage flared inside me — but I forced it down. 'This is all fun and games,' I kept telling myself. 'It has to be.' But even I wasn’t convinced. I was only so good at lying to myself and Vandalia? She was something I couldn't lie to myself over, no matter how hard I tried.

“As if your little witch would let me have a taste,” I muttered, raising a brow. “Aren’t you the only one who gets all the delicious perks?” I didn’t believe for one second that Vandalia would allow me to sample her. That felt like something special — something reserved for my brother, the noble one.

“Niklaus, weren’t you listening not even five minutes ago when she admitted to having feelings for all three of us?” Elijah asked. “Or were you too focused on the fact that she has feelings for anyone other than just you?” I leaned back and narrowed my eyes at him. Perhaps he’d won this round — but I never went down without a fight. I was the one who won the wars. 

“You’ve still gotten the glory of tasting her first. I wonder in what all ways you’ve tasted her,” I said, dragging my tongue across my extending fangs. Elijah chuckled. “Nothing improper, if that’s what you’re insinuating, Niklaus.” He paused, smirking. “Not that the thought hasn’t crossed my mind a couple hundred thousand times in the last two days.” I couldn’t help but laugh.

Typical Elijah — always fighting his urges, denying who he truly was underneath all that nobility. If she’d met me first, I’d have tasted her in every way imaginable by now. And not just once, either. But it wasn’t only desire that stirred in me. It was the ache to belong to something — or someone — that might finally choose me back.



I couldn’t help but wonder what it might’ve been like if I’d been the one to find her on that dock. I longed to make memories of my own with her — different ones. I didn’t want to be the same man as my brother. No. But I wanted to show her I could be a gentleman too. Maybe, I just wanted to thrill her more than Elijah ever could.

Maybe I didn’t need to steal her from Elijah. If she truly wanted to love all three of us, perhaps it would be enough to just to be her first choice. I’ve never been anyone’s first choice before. No — Elijah always won those particular wars.

“Vandalia’s unlike anything I’ve ever known, brother. You think you’re addicted to her now? Just wait until you’ve tasted her. It’s as if my own personal elixir flows through her veins,” Elijah said quietly. “It wasn’t just her voice or her crying on that dock that drew me in. It was the scent of her blood. It took everything in me not to give in. And then, when her eyes met mine — when we touched — everything changed.” His admission startled me, if I’m being honest.

“I know exactly what you mean,” I mumbled. I was surprised he felt it too — and more than that, that he described the same things I’d been feeling earlier. We were brothers, yes, but I hadn’t realized just how often our thoughts might echo one another.

“When she walked into the courtyard tonight, the scent of her blood nearly drove me mad. She was nothing to me.” And I meant the word. Or at least, I tried to. Because the truth was… even that first photograph of her had stirred something in me I hadn’t wanted to name — not to Elijah, not to her, and barely even to myself.

“But she meant something to you. That’s the only reason I held back. But then when her eyes met mine — when we touched — it was like nothing else in this world mattered anymore. Only she did.” My voice trailed off at the end of my confession, and Elijah gave a slow nod. 

“You’re feeling the same thing I did. That shift — from wanting to kill her to needing to protect her. To covet her, by any means necessary.” Elijah hesitated. “That desire is overwhelming.” His eyes darkened for a moment. “Especially tonight, hearing the way she whimpered at your touch.” I should’ve felt guilt. But all I felt was a raw surge of pride — that I could make her sound like that. That it was me she whimpered for.



Elijah didn’t have to say more — I already knew. I’d felt it in the way he grabbed me earlier. He’d never touched me like that before. It’s not as if we hadn’t fought in the last thousand years — trust me, we had. Violently, as a matter of fact.

And it wasn’t just that moment. It was the way Elijah looked at me when I spat venom at her. Vandalia may not have noticed it, but I did. Elijah would’ve gladly killed me over her an hour ago. Neither of us would ever admit that to her, I suspected.

“The jealousy comes in waves, brother. But the moment she touches me, it disappears,” I murmured. “I don’t think any other creature has ever had such a hold on me.” My voice trailed off just as Vandalia reappeared in the doorway. This time, Freya wasn’t with her.

“Hmm. I’m starting to wonder if this is my room, or our room now,” she teased. She held the last few bites of a sandwich in one hand — apparently, Freya had introduced her to the kitchen.



She walked back to the bed and knelt beside her luggage, rummaging through it until she pulled out a pair of pajamas. “Even if I don’t sleep anytime soon, I’d like to get comfortable — if you two don’t mind. I’ve been in a bra for far too long today,” she said softly. I welcomed her honesty — her ease with us. It stirred something primal in me. A beast that had only been sleeping until her arrival tonight.

“Of course we don’t mind,” Elijah replied, already stepping toward the door. “Niklaus, I’m sure the lady would appreciate some privacy while she changes.” I chuckled, shaking my head. “I don’t think so,” I said, a smirk tugging at my lips. “Not after everything I’ve just heard. No — I think I’ll stay right here and watch.”

I had lain back on Vandalia’s plush, purple bed and stretched out for comfort, crossing my legs at the ankles to make it clear — I wasn’t going anywhere. If she truly was a deviant, as Elijah so charmingly put it. Well, I am who I am. And I was more than ready to meet that little deviant.



I watched as Vandalia’s cheeks started to tint pink. Elijah gave her a questioning look. He was waiting for her final decision on the matter. “I’d live in a nudist colony if it were socially acceptable,” she laughed nervously. “I-I just hate that I’m... well, fat,” she admitted with a small pout.

“First of all, Vandalia, you are no such thing. Second of all, you don’t need us in here to possibly trigger worse insecurities that you may have, my dear,” Elijah said but Vandalia shook her head. 

“No. If Klaus wants to see, then I want you both to see. I’m not as beautiful as you make me out to be, Elijah. Maybe now you’ll finally take off those rose-colored glasses. So please stay,” she whispered.

Instead of going out of the door, no, my brother slowly closed it. Elijah stood at the end of the bed, myself still laid back in the bed, and Vandalia across the room a bit from us with her pajamas. I could hear her heart fluttering — her bubbling determination was stoking a fire of silent courage.

The two of us watched with bated breath as she slipped her fingertips into the hem of her shirt and slowly started to pull it over her head. But before completely doing so, she turned away from us. I fought the urge to jump out of the bed and turn her back around. How dare she turn her back on either of us even if it was playful in nature.

Tossing her shirt to the side, we could now see almost her full bare back aside from the straps of her bra. We watched her fingertips slip into the hem of her jeans after unbuttoning and unzipping them, slowly starting to wriggle out of them. I felt my fingers twitch with anticipation, every instinct in me alight with the boldness of her choice — not just to undress, but to bare the weight of her self-perception before us. Her bravery was intoxicating.

I could tell by the way she was moving her body, she was toying with Elijah and I. “I think someone’s done this a few times in the past,” I said with a chuckle. I was pleasantly surprised that my comment had not offended her or embarrassed her. We watched her push her jeans past her ass and down her legs, stepping completely out of them. 

Vandalia was wearing a matching lingerie set it appeared — a black bra and panties, the best that we could see anyway. We watched as she reached behind her back to unclasp her bra. It appeared she was struggling only slightly. 

Before I could even think to move a single muscle, Elijah had already closed the space between them and unclasped it for her. Part of me was surprised that my noble brother would do something such as that without her explicit verbal desire in him doing so. Perhaps Vandalia brought out more of a different side to Elijah than I’d realized. 

“Thanks,” Vandalia said in a breathless sounding voice, likely to try and hide just how shy she was. Slowly, she turned back toward the bed. Her green eyes locked on Elijah’s as she let the bra slip from her fingers. Her breasts tumbled free with the kind of hesitant grace that made it feel like a revelation, not a striptease.

Vandalia was not a petite woman — but she was too harsh on herself when saying the word ‘fat.’ Was she vivacious? Yes. But she was truly stunning. Her pale skin glistened even in the dim light of the bedroom and with her long black hair falling down her shoulders, trying to hide her breasts from our view.

I found her to be a Goddess. Her scent wrapped around me like silk — the faint floral scent of lilacs and peonies; and that wild undercurrent of something purely her. I wasn’t just looking at her. I was absorbing her, memorizing her already.

"Niklaus, do you see an unattractive woman before us? Or am I truly still wearing those rose-colored glasses?" Elijah questioned and I playfully chuckled, a smirk still on my lips. “You must be sharing the glasses with me, brother, because I see nothing less than a Goddess standing before us.” Slowly, my tongue rolled over my lips when I noticed Vandalia looking at me. 

“Mmm, I thought as much. I do distinctly remember telling Vandalia that she was a Goddess among mortals the other night. Those exact words in fact,” Elijah said with a chuckle of his own which brought Vandalia’s attention back to him. “Perhaps she’ll believe it when it comes from you, instead of from me,” he teased. 

“Y-you two are both blind,” Vandalia mumbled, her face turning a darker shade of red. “A-all of these stretch marks a-and I-I’m overweight,” Vandalia nervously whimpered. I heard her sigh as she reached for her pajamas.

I hated how effortlessly the words left her. As if they’d been rehearsed. As if someone, somewhere, had convinced her that stretch marks meant shame. I wanted to find them and end them. Before I could stop myself, I was out of the bed and at her side — faster than the time it took her heart to make a single beat.



“Do you have any idea how many beautiful women my brother and I have seen in a thousand years?” I asked, locking eyes with her. I could see the surprise in her eyes — whether from my speed, or simply from how fiercely I wanted to be near her, I wasn’t sure.

I reached forward and ran my index fingertip over her cheekbone before cupping her left cheek with my right hand. “All of them are more beautiful than me,” she said softly. And just like that — like twins in perfect sync — Elijah and I both spoke at once: “None as beautiful as you.” 

“I just need time,” she whispered, eyes fluttering closed beneath my touch. “Time to believe you and to trust what you two say. Time to unlearn everything I thought I knew about myself, and about love.” When her eyes slowly opened, I watched as her gaze moved from me, to Elijah, and then slowly back to me. 

“We have all the time in the world, love. We’re not going anywhere.” Even I was surprised by how easily the words came. “E-Elijah keeps saying the same thing. But, I can’t shake the feeling that I’ll wake up, and this will all vanish like a dream.” I couldn’t help but to feel moved, just slightly, by Vandalia’s admission. 

The fact that she could view stepping into the supernatural world and meeting my brother — no, not just my brother. Meeting all of us Mikaelson’s here tonight and viewing it as a dream. We were not ever described as dreams come true. We were monsters — we were nightmares. Yet this mortal woman believed differently. Most people ran from us the moment they learned the truth. But not her. She walked into our darkness and still saw stars.

 “You two can’t begin to imagine the bullshit I’ve been through, and the abandonment issues it’s left me with. I’ve told Elijah a lot of it already. Men use me. They string me along until they get bored of me, and then toss me aside for someone prettier, more fun, and someone they can get even more from.” 

With every word she spoke, a fury ignited deeper inside me — slow and smoldering like embers ready to consume. I pondered if it did Elijah the same way. I wanted to line up every bastard who ever hurt her and make her watch as I ripped out their hearts, one by one — not out of cruelty, but justice. They didn’t deserve to breathe the same air as her. And they sure as hell never deserved to touch her — not even in memory.

“And then I started to worry that Elijah might think I’m using him. That all of you might feel that way about me. What do I have to offer you in return for your hospitality and kindness towards me? Y-you all clearly have money… I don’t. I’m just a woman who lives at home with her parents, takes care of them and her seven cats, and gives everything she has to her job and her friends.” Vandalia’s voice trailed off. 

“There’s no debt to be repaid,” Elijah said gently. I nodded in firm agreement, feeling a strange pang at the depth of her self-doubt. We had already said this once to her tonight, just a little while ago. Vandalia truly was plagued with these insecurities — Elijah hadn’t been exaggerating.

“Isn’t there an old saying — it’s better to give than to receive?” I asked, and she nodded slowly. “I always say that at Christmas,” Vandalia murmured. “I try to give friends something handmade. Some years, they don’t have anything to give back — and that’s okay. Other years, I’m the one who can’t. Even on birthdays.”

“That same truth applies here, my dearest,” Elijah murmured. “You don’t owe us anything.” Elijah stepped in behind Vandalia and gently swept a lock of her dark hair behind her right ear. I mirrored the gesture from the other side, tucking a strand behind her left.

“H-how are we supposed to make this work?” Vandalia whispered, her voice barely audible. “I-I’m standing here, almost completely naked in front of you both and I want to be close to both of you.” I felt a small chill run down my spine at her vulnerability. I basked in it, finding myself more addicted to her as seconds passed.

“It works however you want it to work,” Elijah said softly. My noble brother, always. In a thousand years, I’d never let a woman dictate me or control me. I had watched Elijah with women for a millennium — he had always become their slave in a sense. I had never yielded nor submitted. I was not tame-able, I was uncontrollable, and I was unpredictable. 

I wanted Vandalia to know that. And yet, my mind kept drifting back to the carefully laid plan I’d crafted to steal her from Elijah. But then I looked down into her bright green eyes and saw the love she had for him, and perhaps a hint of adoration and curiosity towards me. 

I saw her flesh tremble, the goosebumps rise beneath both our touches. Heard the stutter in her heartbeat with every word we spoke. And in that moment — despite the fire raging inside me to claim her — I knew Elijah was right. This would work however she wanted it to. She was in control now. Not me. Not Elijah. Her.

“It’ll probably kill me to let someone else have complete control over me,” I mumbled. Elijah chuckled. “Now that, I’ll believe when I see it, Niklaus. Never in our lifetime have you ever allowed yourself to love or be loved in the same capacity as I,” Elijah added. 

I wanted to argue that. I felt like he was forgetting Tatia, Caroline, and Camille. Even Hayley, but there was no way he was forgetting her. I’d never seen my noble brother love the way he loved Hayley, not even with Katerina or Celeste — and it had never been reciprocated until he'd met her. Even then, it still hadn't been, not truly. Not until now, at least. And maybe that’s what made all of this even more dangerous. Hayley had been both of our undoing's once before in different ways.

“W-why allow me in?” Vandalia asked in a whisper, her green eyes gazing up into mine with a deep curiosity. Elijah tilted his head, voice soft but probing. “Yes, Niklaus. Why her?”

“I never thought I’d ever come across anyone who might be my equal. Someone who could ever have the power to handle me. But, I’d never met you, little witch,” I said softly, like a confession I hadn’t even known was waiting on my tongue. I felt Vandalia lean into me ever so gently. 

I rested my chin on top of her head, acutely aware of her bare skin pressed against my clothed chest. “I-I’m happy you’ll give me a chance,” Vandalia whispered. She wasn’t naïve — she must have sensed the walls I’d built up around myself. The rough exterior. Like a soft whisper, I heard the faintest of murmuring: and she sees past that exterior to the man beneath.

“I’m so glad I have you both,” she murmured and I couldn’t stop myself from wrapping my arms around her waist, especially since Elijah had not done so already. “I was so nervous to meet all of you,” Vandalia admitted. 

“I-I never would have expected it could have turned out like this,” she continued and her cheeks only grew more pink. “I’m only scared that my feelings might hurt you, Elijah, a-and make you regret having brought me home to meet your family,” she almost whimpered during her confession. I could feel her anxiety and fear. 

It wasn’t fear for what I or Elijah were, no. It was fear that by coming here and inadvertently falling for Freya and myself, that now Elijah may not love her anymore and he may no longer want her. That by falling for both of us, she might’ve broken something precious — and now, Elijah would regret ever bringing her into our lives.

“I’m not going anywhere, Vandalia,” said Elijah as he wrapped his arms around her a bit from behind regardless of my arms also being around her. “I never imagined I’d be sharing you when I brought you home to meet my family — but it’s not a deal-breaker for me. No one in this life deserves happiness more than Niklaus,” he murmured into her ear. “And if this makes you happy, then it makes me happy.” I watched his lips brush against her ear as he murmured the words, delicate as falling ash.



Elijah’s confession shook me to my core — whether either of them noticed the tremor that passed through me or not. Elijah and I — we had always been the closest of all the siblings. Our siblings might argue that — there was a time even I would have argued I was closest to Rebekah, or perhaps to Kol; but the truth was plain for all to see. Elijah and I had been a force to be reckoned with for a millennium.

He’d made it his life’s mission to redeem himself in my eyes for a sin in our past. To know that he believed I was deserving of happiness. To know that he would be happy sharing this Goddess with me...

Perhaps Vandalia was meant to be the redemption Elijah had always sought from me. The forgiveness for the sin in his past that he felt he could not atone for when it came to me, the sin I’d never forgive or look past. The sin he’d never forgive himself for — and that I’d never allow myself to name aloud. Maybe Vandalia was just what he and I needed. 

I felt another cold chill while she was in our grasp when Elijah’s lips grazed her ear. The effects we had on this young girl — I’d said it already, Vandalia was addicting. In her arms, I felt like a man holding a woman for the very first time. It was maddening — the way she made me feel.



“There’s no one else I’d rather share you with,” I murmured, surprising even myself with the honesty of it. There were still pangs of jealousy watching Elijah so close to this beautiful Goddess that I so desperately wished I could have all to myself. The selfishness in me wanted her in that way but I was being honest. If I had to share her with anyone, it would be with him. “Because Elijah deserves his happily ever after too, little witch,” I confessed.

I felt Vandalia shiver again in my arms, so I instinctively pulled her tighter against me. “Do you want to put your pajamas on now, or get beneath the covers?” I asked her and she pulled her head back just a little to look up at me. 

“I always sleep like this at home… so, if it’s okay to do that here,” Vandalia murmured. I nodded. It wasn’t like any person under this roof was unfamiliar with female anatomy. I had no qualms with a beautiful woman like her sleeping in just her underwear — in fact, it took effort not to admire the view a little too long. The view was spectacular in my opinion and I knew Elijah's opinion would mirror my own.

Slowly, she unwound herself from my arms and walked to the bed, climbing into it and beneath the covers. I watched as Elijah turned on a box fan that was perched upon a desk and angled towards the bed, so it would blow on Vandalia and keep the air circulating within the room. She must have caught my puzzled glance.

“I can’t sleep without the sound of a fan. I’ve been that way ever since I was little. That and it helps me breathe a bit better,” she admitted and I nodded at once, understanding the need for it now. I hadn’t gravitated towards the door yet, but when Elijah’s hand touched the door-knob, I heard her voice call out. 

“Don’t go,” she said softly as her eyes found Elijah’s. “Stay with me until I fall asleep? Maybe even after?” At first, I thought she was speaking to only Elijah. As he turned back toward her bed, I silently reached for the doorknob instead.

“Klaus,” Vandalia murmured my name and I froze. After a second, I turned my head to look back at her and into her beautiful, bright green eyes. “I-I was asking both of you. I-if you want to stay, that is,” her voice was barely a whisper. 

I didn’t need to be asked twice — not when it came to her. The way her eyes looked right into my soul, I felt as if I’d do just about anything she asked of me. I took a seat on the side of the bed and started to remove my shoes, jeans, and even my tee shirt. I looked over at my brother, who had begun to shed his perfectly tailored Armani suit. Even now, he moved with effortless elegance — it was strange, seeing that same grace mirrored in this moment of quiet vulnerability.



I slipped beneath the covers with Vandalia, and since I was the first to join her, she curled up against me. The sensation of having her so close — and so willing — was almost indescribable. It felt foreign enough to make me want to run… yet delicate enough to make me crave her all the more.

Her scent danced beneath my nose again — rich, intoxicating, unbearably tempting. A whisper of her blood, and every predatory instinct in me stirred, hungry to drain her dry. But I refused. I’d never give into that if I could help it. If, like Elijah, I could sample her just one time — I knew that could either help the cravings or it could be the nail in her coffin so to speak. 

I wrapped my arms around her, my hands roaming the soft curve of her lower back. Her skin beneath my fingertips sparked something electric down my spine — sharp, addictive. I’d been in bed with many women in my lifetime and never had just having one in my grasp like this affected me so much. 

After another moment, Elijah slipped into the bed on the other side of Vandalia and she cooed, feeling him cuddle up to her back. “Now, this is something I never imagined,” I murmured softly. “Sharing a bed with my brother and the same beautiful woman in both our arms.”

“Niklaus sharing anything is hard to believe — it’s never quite been in his nature,” Elijah chuckled and Vandalia giggled a little as well. “If you two think I ever dreamed I’d be sharing a bed with the two sexiest men I’ve ever laid eyes on in my entire life — well, you’re certifiably insane.”

But it wasn’t just the praise that stirred something in me — it was the ease in which she gave it, like worship was second nature. She didn’t just flatter me, no —  she saw me. I was sure as time went on, though, she’d learn me well enough to know that a good praise, well, it was practically a fetish for me. 

“Mmm, we top the list, huh?” I questioned her while running one of my hands slowly up her back and feeling her arch her body against mine. I tangled that hand in her gorgeous black hair, giving a gentle tug that made her gasp and smile all at once. “There’s no question about it,” she whispered and met my gaze once more. 



“Tell me more about you, Klaus,” Vandalia murmured as she shifted slightly, freeing her left hand from beneath her. She gently ran her hand over my bare chest, and I shivered beneath her touch — a reaction I couldn’t control even if I tried. “I’m sure my brother’s already painted quite the picture of me,” I murmured. I untangled my hand from her hair and instead let it lace fingers with the hand of hers that was on my chest.  

“Elijah loves you and thinks very highly of you. That’s what I’ve heard the last two days,” Vandalia said softly and I couldn’t help but to glance over at Elijah and chuckle. “Good to know what’s said about me behind my back.” “Only good things, Niklaus. Only ever good,” Elijah assured me.  

I watched as Elijah’s hand stroked along Vandalia’s back. After a moment, it slid to her side — and I saw the surprise flash across her face. A pleasant one, judging by the rhythm her heart had taken on.

She arched deeper into me — but I knew her back was pressed to Elijah. Jealousy stirred, clawing at my chest, uninvited and hot. But then I looked at our joined hands — tiny violet sparks dancing around them like fireflies in the dark — and the jealousy ebbed. Magic didn’t lie.

“I’m not the noble one, love. That’s Elijah,” I murmured, letting my eyes trail from our hands back to her face. Vandalia had closed her eyes. God, she was beautiful like this — softened, trusting, her breath warm against my skin. I’d never known peace could look like a person. “I’m the tormented, sadistic bastard of the lot,” I whispered. Her eyes fluttered open, slow and sleepy — but fixed on me. 

“You all have a past, I’m sure,” she mumbled while I pushed a bit of her hair from her face. “That’s putting it lightly,” I said through a soft laugh. “You won’t scare her off, Niklaus,” Elijah said softly. “She’s quite taken with us and I dare say we’re just as taken with her.” Vandalia nodded at his words, eyes still heavy, but glowing with something more than sleep.

“You’re both thousand-year-old vampires. I’m sure you’ve killed more people than I can even begin to fathom,” she said. And she wasn’t wrong. “I’d be stupid to lie here thinking I’m in the arms of men who’ve never killed. You’ve fed on blood for over a thousand years,” she murmured, her voice trailing off.

“Hence the word sadistic, love,” I said, my voice firmer now. “We may all be Originals, Vandalia, but I’m the most feared.” Her brow curiously arched. “What makes you any more dangerous than Elijah or Rebekah?” Ah, I chuckled to myself. Elijah hadn’t told her our entire life’s story. Good. I was glad there were pieces of our history left that I could tell. 

“I’m only their half-brother, Vandalia,” I said softly, cupping her cheek. She nuzzled into my hand — and God, that feeling. It was euphoria. I could swear she was made to be touched by me — that’s how perfectly she fit in my hand.

“Vampire’s only part of what I am,” I murmured, brushing my thumb across her lips. And then she surprised me — she kissed it, just barely. I wanted to know what it felt like to kiss her. I wanted to know what it felt like to kiss her — to taste her — to feel her lips in places far more intimate than my thumb.

“What’s the other part of you?” Vandalia asked, her lips brushing my thumb with every word. “I’m the hybrid, love — vampire and wolf,” I whispered, watching her green eyes flick up to meet mine. “Elijah told me about the wolves — that it was wolves who killed your brother,” she murmured. I nodded. “Yes, and that was before any of us knew my biological father was a wolf,” I said quietly.

“The werewolf curse only activates when you take a life — your first kill. So if someone carries the gene but never kills… the curse lies dormant. They live as a human, never knowing. Now tell me, Vandalia — what’s the first thing a newly turned vampire must do?” I questioned her.

“Y-you’d be thirsty. Hungry. You’d kill for blood,” she said. I nodded slowly. “You’re a clever little witch,” I murmured. Either Elijah had given her a lesson already or she’d learned what she knew from romanticized Hollywood films about vampires and the like. 

“When I killed for the first time as a vampire, I began reacting differently than my siblings. I—I had triggered the curse,” I murmured, my voice trailing off. Even a thousand years later, those memories still cut deep. I’d always known something set me apart from my siblings — that I didn’t quite fit. Not perfectly, anyway. I just never knew until I turned for the first time what that reason was. 

“That’s when our father — Mikael — realized what I was. A beast. A bastard. An abomination.” I spoke the words in his voice — because after a thousand years of hearing them, they might as well be mine. When something like that is drilled into you long enough, you start to believe it.

Before I could go on, Vandalia surprised me — her hand slid from my chest, and she gently pressed a fingertip to my lips. “I know I don’t know your whole story yet. But one thing I do know — you didn’t choose your family tree, Klaus. You didn’t choose your genetics.”

I couldn’t argue with her. I couldn’t change the blood that wasn’t Mikaelson. Couldn’t change the fact that my own mother had made me into a hybrid — however unintentionally it might have been. She should have known. Turning me into a vampire meant triggering the curse — and she knew damn well who my real father was. It wasn’t Mikael. It never was.

“Y-you’re not a beast. Or an abomination. You’re unique. One of a kind,” Vandalia whispered. I was touched. No — I was moved. Her words hit something inside me no one ever had. Not one woman in a thousand years had ever said something such as that to me. 

No — most agreed. I was a beast. A scourge. And in the end? They all plotted to kill me, one way or another. Hell, even my own siblings had tried to see me dead — more than once. That was something Vandalia didn’t know. Not yet.

“I’ve always been seen as the monster, Vandalia,” I whispered against her fingertip. She shook her head. “Not by me. Never by me.” And then, she shifted — slipping her body a little higher up in the bed. I watched as she pulled her fingertip away. The way she gazed down at me — the way her heartbeat stuttered in my ears — I knew what she was about to do. And I welcomed it.

I longed for it. I needed it. My gaze dropped from her eyes to her lips — to the way she nervously bit down on her lip ring. She was just as unsure as I was — and yet, here we were, on the edge of something irreversible. There would be no takebacks after this — I would make sure of that.



Finally, Vandalia closed the gap between us and I felt her soft lips upon my own. The electricity that jolted through me could’ve powered Frankenstein’s monster — twice over. I’d never felt a surge like that — not from a kiss. Not from anything. Adrenaline, passion, hunger, need — all ignited in an instant.

I knew now — Vandalia was made for me, just as I was made for her. She was right. This was why it had never worked with anyone else. Not in a thousand years. Freya had been right. Elijah wouldn’t be the only one to fall for Vandalia LaRue. Unlike women of my past, I would not let her slip through my fingers. Not this time, and never again.



Her fingertips brushed my cheek, then my neck, then lower — across my chest. It sent shivers up my spine and heat blooming beneath my skin, like her touch burned in the best possible way. Instinctively, I cupped her cheek, my fingers tangling in the strands of hair that spilled over her shoulder.

My eyes were shut, but I could see the purple glow behind my lids. Feel the tingle — like static and warmth all at once. Our lips were probably glowing with her magic, sparking violet at the seams.

Let them. Let the purple flames consume us for all I cared — as long as she was in my arms, her lips on mine. If this was how I died? I’d die a happy man.

I had lost myself in the kiss with Vandalia — so much so that when she pulled away, I let out an audible whimper. I wasn’t sure I’d ever made such a sound before. The sound had escaped me before I could stop it — raw, needy. I didn’t know I was capable of sounding that way. Even Elijah had to be astonished, but I dared not look at him.

My eyes fluttered open to find her bright green gaze locked with mine. “Now I understand why my brother covets you so,” I murmured, feeling her fingers glide through my dark-blond hair.

“Do you wish to covet me as well, Klaus?” Vandalia asked softly, her voice laced with a surprising hint of shyness. She glanced away from me, looking toward Elijah — still silent, still rubbing gentle circles on her back, as if to say, ‘It’s okay.’

“How could I not?” I said softly. “You’re young, witty, beautiful, and you don’t see me as a monster.” I placed my thumb and forefinger beneath her chin, gently guiding her gaze back to mine. “If you want me, Vandalia, then I’m yours.” I traced her lips with my thumb once more. She whimpered — a soft, broken sound — and nodded her head ‘yes.’

I’d meant it. Every word. I hadn’t offered myself to anyone in over a thousand years — not like this. Not without walls. Not without a price or a catch to be had. I still didn’t look at Elijah, but I could feel his energy shift — no jealousy, no rivalry. Only something that felt oddly like peace. And in that moment, with her whisper of a nod, something ancient and broken inside me began to heal.

(9,175 words – roughly 44 pages.)

Notes:

Welcome to a new point of view! The first of many chapters told from Klaus's point of view. As I said in the last author's note - you'll notice in the photographs that I'm having to use the beautiful and talented Natalie Dormer for a face-claim for Freya. That's because Grok doesn't know Riley Voelkel's face (which saddens me deeply.) But I do love Natalie in pretty much every role she's ever been in. (Especially Margaery in GoT and Cressida in Hunger Games.)

Most of the images in this chapter are from Grok - a few being from Bing. I mostly use Grok now but I've left some Bing images in the story because I like how they turned out *so* much. (And as I've said before... let a gal have her fun here.. I'm not publishing this or getting paid for it. I assure y'all if I ever, ever, ever get to publish a book - all of my art would be drawn by my very best friend Dadie, and she'd be well paid for her time and effort, trust me.) Bing nails "Klaus Mikaelson" 99% of the time, but Elijah looks like Damon Salvatore lol. At least Grok knows Daniel Gillies face. So happy about that.

So, a life update since a week ago. We had MORE severe storms, more tornadoes in and around my area, and now we're dealing with the worst flooding my area has seen since the Great Flood of 1937. Thankfully, Henderson is "On the Ohio River, but never in it." Our county is flooding from the Ohio and Green rivers both, but the city proper is staying high and dry (except for the lowlands that flood from Canoe Creek.) My house is safe. We have, however, been sump-pumping water out of our crawlspace/under the house area once a day.

The other night when it was raining its hardest, I had to go underneath the house in about two feet of water and rescue my cat, Sabrina. A stray male (all of my cats are neutered and spayed, I shall add!) had chased her and she took refuge under the house... and then the water began to rise. She was way up under the house where the water hadn't gotten to her, yet, but she couldn't get herself back out (being afraid of the water and all.) It was after one o'clock in the morning when, pajamas and all, wearing sewer boots, I got under the house and got her out.

We've hit 1,315 views for this story now! In nine chapters, AO3 says we're up to 58,431 words. The other night, I decided to split Chapter 41 (it was over 11,000 words) and make it into three chapters. Biggest 'overhaul' I've done on previous chapters of the story in forever. It was necessary, though. It was a heavy chapter. It was the night of April 5th, 2025; and it would have been Nick's 32nd birthday. If you've been following along with this story then you'll know who Nick is and what he meant to me. Chapters 41, 42, and now 43 are heavy. Tearjerkers if you will. You have that to look forward to.

My story is getting closer to 800,000 words now in Scrivener. I've got about 80 some-odd chapters completely finished, and about a dozen more 'half way' finished or just barely started. I was saddened the other day to learn that NaNoWriMo will be no more. Rest assured though, this November, I will work on this story as if it was NaNo. In 2024, I managed 123,463 in 30 days to this story. This year? I'm hoping to hit that again, maybe even a few thousand more. (Trust me, I'd be happy with 50k, elated with 100k, and dully satisfied with 123k again. But I'd love to strive for 125k, if not maybe 130k.)

As always - my story does have a playlist that goes with it on Spotify. Each song is relevant to a character, a situation, something that's going to happen in the story in the future. https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5vxkLYvWEGgrkWbLFdN42h (The playlist is public, meaning anyone can listen to it.)

Thanks for reading and following Vandalia's journey of not just falling in love with a couple Mikaelson's, but her path of self-discovery.

Chapter 11: Elijah's Point of View

Summary:

“Her name ran in my veins, tasting of the depth I felt when she said yes to more. It tasted like salvation — a hint of eternity, laced with the quiet joy of being chosen.”

Chapter Eleven:

Love Without Divide: Where Devotion Becomes Communion

“I—I want nothing more in the world than to be a part of this family,” Vandalia whispered. “To be as close as I can be to you,” she said to my brother, Niklaus, then turned to face me. “And to you, Elijah.” The way she said my name sent a wave of pleasure through me. “A-and with Freya, too,” she added, her cheeks blooming a brighter pink.

“I have to give it to you, little witch, you have good taste in men—and women,” Niklaus said with a chuckle. I had to agree. Freya had always possessed a quiet intensity that set her apart. Beautiful, certainly, but it was her mind, her will, her brilliance that had captivated me from the moment we met.



“If you’d asked me twenty-four hours ago whether I’d ever consider sharing you—not just with my brother, but with my sister too—my answer would have been a resounding no. But even I can’t deny how right this feels.” My fingertips danced lightly over her bare skin.

Just a day ago, I never would have imagined Vandalia allowing me to be this near her—this intimate—so soon. Yet here she was, nearly naked, held not only in my arms but in Niklaus’s as well.

“Elijah,” Vandalia whispered my name like it was laced with the edge of a moan. “P-please don’t think I ever intended for this to happen. I never…” Her voice trembled with sincerity. It was my turn to pull her close and hush her worries away.



I gently wrapped an arm around her waist and gave a soft pull. She understood, shifting until her back was pressed to Niklaus and her front to me. A low groan escaped me. The warmth of her bare skin against mine — it was nothing short of heaven.

“My dearest one,” I murmured, gazing into those luminous green eyes. “You have nothing to apologize for. None of this was planned — not by you, not by any of us. But I wouldn't change a thing. I’m— beyond content.” 

“Y-you are?” Vandalia asked, reaching up to rest her hand against my cheek. “A few hours ago, it was only us. And now— I love you, Elijah.” Tears shimmered in her eyes. I knew she didn’t speak those words lightly. And yet she had no idea what they did to me. She made my heart skip — not once, but several times. For an Original vampire, that was no small thing. That was everything.

“I’m scared you won’t believe me, because I have feelings for Klaus, and for Freya. But I mean it, Elijah. With everything I am. Because of you, I’m alive—truly alive—and in love with life again. I feel like the luckiest woman in the world.” Vandalia's words struck something deep within me. I wanted to weep — not from sorrow, but from a joy so pure, I hadn’t felt it in a thousand years.

“Vandalia,” I whispered, leaning in to kiss her lips — soft and fleeting — after brushing away the tears on her cheek. I didn’t linger. I only wanted to calm her in the way I knew best. “I love you, too,” I murmured. She collapsed into my arms, her head resting against my chest.

It was as though she’d needed that affirmation. I’d told her I was falling for her, but I hadn’t yet said the words — not fully. I promised her, just hours after we met, that everything would move at her pace. And now that she’d allowed herself the vulnerability of confession, I felt safe offering mine.

I watched Niklaus shift closer behind her, pressing himself against her back — not with desire, but with comfort. “You weren’t kidding when you said this one was special, brother,” he said softly. His hand moved in gentle circles across her back, just as mine had moments before.

“I’ve never met a woman with such depth, Niklaus,” I said, running my fingers slowly through her dark hair. “The night I found her on the dock, she was broken. Her faith was gone. Her hope, shattered. Even the grandest things in life brought her no joy. But the more we talked, the more I saw the light returning to her eyes. She admitted she’s still afraid — of being left, replaced, forgotten.”

The transformation in Vandalia was nothing short of miraculous. From the moment we met to now — the change in her spirit, in her light — was undeniable. I’d be a fool not to recognize that I was the difference. I had saved her. But what she may never fully realize, is that she saved me too. Vandalia had returned purpose to my life — something I hadn’t felt in centuries.

“When I joined her in the cemetery the next evening, I believe it helped her begin to trust that I wasn’t going to vanish on her. Beneath that pink magnolia tree, I watched her eyes brighten even further. But tonight — during the road trip, and especially in the last hour — she’s come alive in a way I’ve never seen. It’s done exactly what I hoped it would: made her feel alive again. Made her happy.” And that was all I wanted — to see Vandalia happy.

“I have so much to be happy and excited about,” she whispered against my chest. Her lips brushed against my skin, sending a subtle tingle through me. “Meeting more of your friends and family over the holiday, and seeing this beautiful town. And when I go home — the Tri-Fest. The best three days of the entire year,” she added, a wide grin spreading across her face.

“Tri-Fest?” Niklaus echoed, and she turned her head slightly to glance back at him. “It’s a three-day street festival. Rides, games, and tons of amazing food. On Friday night, there are always fireworks. Ever since I was a kid, I’ve adored it. For that one weekend, I try my best to be completely carefree. Usually, Dadie — that’s my best friend — and I get food, walk around for hours, and sit together to watch the fireworks.” 

“Sounds like quite the festival,” Niklaus mused, cocking an eyebrow. “Is Elijah the only one invited to such festivities?” Vandalia laughed, shaking her head — her black hair tumbling into her face.

“Of course not. Anyone who wants to come is more than welcome. Just… maybe try not to slaughter the whole town?” Vandalia asked gently. I ran my fingers through her hair. “I believe what dearest Vandalia is implying, Niklaus, is that the people of Henderson are off-limits. They might be her friends. Or even her kin,” I added, my tone a touch firmer than usual.

What Vandalia didn’t yet know were my plans to live there with her — starting April 21st. I’d made it clear to my siblings not to spoil the surprise. “U-unless,” she began, catching me slightly off guard.

“If they’re the dregs of society, then honestly, that's fair game. I mean, I doubt it’s easy to run a background check before you kill someone, but predators, murderers, rapists — they’re better off dead.” She paused, then added with a wicked little smile, “Hell, I’ve got a list of people I wouldn’t mind seeing dead. For reasons.”

“Do your homework on Henderson natives and get Vandalia’s approval before bleeding them dry. I can live with that,” murmured Niklaus. I was surprised at how — dare I use the word — submissive he was being with her tonight. How agreeing that he was with everything. It wasn’t just myself that Vandalia brought a different side out of — it was Niklaus as well. 

I watched as he took Vandalia’s left arm and brought it towards his lips, kissing the area that was her wrist. “As for you and me, brother, why would we need to worry about a source for blood when we have one right here? One that smells absolutely divine.” 

I watched as Vandalia whimpered when Niklaus’s lips grazed across her wrist — a touch that was equal parts reverent and razor-close to ruin. “T-the two of you n-never have to ask,” she whispered. I could see it in my brother’s face — he was battling every instinct not to drink from her then and there. I feared if he did decide to — he may not be able to stop. 

“Perhaps tomorrow, little witch. For now, you should try to get some sleep.” His voice was a silky murmur as he, too, pushed some of her hair from her face. I was stunned that Niklaus refused the temptation. I never thought I’d ever see my brother show such restraint. 

“H-how am I ever going to sleep with you two beside me?” Vandalia whined softly. “The way your hands feel on my body…” The way she whined — something primal was trying to stir within me but I kept it down deep to the best of my ability. I wasn’t sure how much longer I’d be able to keep it buried.

“Well, we could go sleep in our own beds, love,” Niklaus said with a chuckle. She shook her head quickly. I felt her hold onto me tighter as if she feared, because of Niklaus’s teasing, that we may actually leave her. 

After a few quiet moments, Niklaus and I both heard her heartbeat begin to slow. At last, she curled up even closer to me, and I pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Goodnight, my love,” I whispered against her soft flesh.

“Mmm, goodnight, my loves,” Vandalia murmured sleepily in return. And with that, she finally drifted off to sleep. She was curled against my chest, my right arm tucked beneath her, supporting her as she used my shoulder and chest as her pillow.

Just after three o'clock in the morning, Niklaus and I found ourselves watching her sleep — and we couldn’t seem to stop. It actually surprised me just how long Niklaus stayed, his body curled against hers from behind. His right hand stroked her hair in slow, soothing patterns — gentle enough not to wake her.

“I suppose this is my unicorn, brother,” mumbled Niklaus as he continued to stroke her long black hair. The fact that he used that word — his unicorn — made something tighten in my chest. A mythical thing. Rare. Impossible. And yet, here she was. “Ah, yes — the unicorn you said you’d have by the time I returned,” I chuckled softly. I had momentarily forgotten that little piece of our conversation the other day. 

“You wished for me to find happiness, Elijah,” he spoke once again and I nodded my head. “Our love lives have been one tragedy after another, Niklaus — and Vandalia’s has been much the same. Now, perhaps, we know the reason why. I find myself thinking back to former women that I could have swore I loved. No, I know I loved a few of them, truly. But nothing compares,” my words were deep and honest. 

“You’ve had more time with her, Elijah,” my brother said quietly. “But it scares me that I’m beginning to feel the same way. I think our sister was right. Soulmates or a literal thread of fate. I feel like she’s the only thread keeping me held down to Earth,” Niklaus continued. 

“The second we locked eyes on the dock that night, I felt the very same thing,” I admitted. “You speak of waves of jealousy, Niklaus — and I feel them, too. The way she clung to you moments ago. The way she longs to know you just as intimately as she longs to know me. But I meant what I said earlier. This feels right, and I am content. As long as she’s happy, then I’m happy.”

“I never mean to break a heart, brother,” Niklaus said, his tone laced with apology. “I’m a man of my word. I’ve promised her that no harm will come to her while she’s here. I’ve promised to love her, and to cherish her.

But even she has said, she knows a relationship with a thousand year old vampire won’t be easy. Now add you and Freya into the mix,” I said with a hint of laughter. We were all complicated enough on our own — together, we were nightmares dressed up as daydreams.

I continued lying there, watching Vandalia sleep, and before long, my brother Niklaus had drifted off as well. I took the opportunity to gently roll Vandalia toward Niklaus, so she’d naturally curl up into him. Sitting up slowly, I pulled the sheet and duvet over the two of them. I leaned down to stroke her hair for just a moment, unable to stop the smile tugging at my lips. It was strange — how something so simple could feel so meaningful.

I reached for my phone on the bedside table. Since the two of them were covered, I saw no harm in capturing a photo — their first together. That fact made me think back to the first photo I’d taken with Vandalia just two nights ago. I never would’ve believed we’d be here — like this — just a few short days later. I knew Vandalia would appreciate this photo once they were awake later today.



A small wave of jealousy washed over me. Niklaus was the one wrapped around Vandalia on her first night here — not me. But sleep was far from me. I was too happy — too alive — for the first time in what felt like centuries.

As soon as jealousy crept in, memories of everything that had transpired tonight chased it away. I thought back to the way it felt to hold her hand tonight — with Niklaus beside us — and see the purple sparks fly for the first time.

The way I felt when she undressed in front of Niklaus and me. The way it felt to hold her between us — complimenting her, reassuring her she was the most beautiful woman either of us had ever seen. And then curling up in bed with her — feeling her bare skin against mine, even in such an innocent way. It was utterly incredible.

I methodically gathered the clothes I’d shed a few hours earlier, but left my button-up draped over a chair — something for Vandalia to find later. I remembered the thought that flashed through my mind our first night together, when she removed my suit jacket and handed it back to me. The desire to see her in more of my clothing. That desire hadn’t gone away, it had only increased.

I walked down the long corridor of the compound to my own room, where I laid out a fresh set of clothes for the day ahead. A day that I had growing optimism would be a wonderful one.



A few moments later, I was in the shower. Something about morning showers always reinvigorated me — preparing me for the day anew. But for the first time in my life, I ached as the water rinsed yesterday from my skin. In a way, it felt like I was washing Vandalia off — and I hated that. I wanted to carry her with me, always. 

Still, I knew it was only a matter of time before her sweet scent would linger on me once more. I pined for it, and more than I should even admit to myself: I pined for her.

While I showered, the images that flashed in the privacy of my mind were the utmost of intimate. One might even go so far as to label them — erotic. It was like a kind of pleasurable torture, a beast trying to claw its way out of me to do whatever it pleased with her. 

‘Not this soon,’ I murmured to the beast within. ‘There will be a time for what we crave. It’ll be more than worth the wait.’



Dressed once more, I made my way down the corridor and paused at her bedroom door. She and Niklaus were still fast asleep — her body curled tenderly against his, his arms protectively wrapped around her.

I longed for that closeness — to be the one holding her like that. Tonight would be my night. It had to be. The thought of an afternoon nap together teased at the edges of my mind. We’d see how the day unfolded. After a stop in the kitchen, I made my way to one of my favorite rooms in the house: my den. A library, others might call it.



I decided to take a breather and stepped out onto the balcony with a fresh cup of coffee and my phone. It was well after four o’clock in the morning now. I figured it was time to let everyone — mostly Vandalia’s friends and family — know we’d arrived safely in New Orleans. More importantly, I wanted Vandalia to wake to something sweet — a reminder that she was cherished.

I selected a few photos from the past twelve hours to upload — moments I hoped her friends and family would enjoy. It truly seemed that many of them were deeply invested in her happiness — in watching her flourish. That fact brought out a happiness within me as well. It was a subtle reminder that Vandalia was more cared for than she realized. Especially when she was out on the boat dock the other night, contemplating ending her life.

As I scrolled through the photos, I was mesmerized — not just by how beautiful she’d been tonight, but by how happy. It stirred something deep in me, knowing I’d brought such joy into this young woman’s life. I’d meant what I told her that first night — a woman her age deserved to be happy, to be carefree. I hoped she could feel that here — in New Orleans, with us.

Vandalia had spoken of how excited she was about life again — and I realized I felt the same. She’d reignited something in me. Excitement was not something I was unfamiliar with but at the same time? There was a certain unfamiliarity with it.

I was a family man and always had been. Family Above All, I'd lived by those words for just as long as always and forever. I enjoyed the holidays, I enjoyed making memories with those I loved and cared for. But had these simplicities excited me in the last handful of years? No. They'd grown repetitive and perhaps even stale. 

Kol and Davina would arrive later today, and more of our friends were sure to come for Easter dinner on Sunday. I wanted everyone to meet Vandalia — to love her. Though preferably not in quite the same way Niklaus, Freya, and I were falling for her. A love square, after all, was more than enough for one household.

Rebekah wanted to take Vandalia shopping, and I, too, hoped to take her dress hunting. I wanted Vandalia to experience joy with my siblings and me. I knew Rebekah had planned simple Easter joys — like the painting and dyeing of eggs. I had a feeling Vandalia would enjoy that immensely.









‘Our drive home to New Orleans was long, but incredibly satisfying, spent in the cherished company of my dearest Vandalia. I surprised her with a stop at Reelfoot Lake where we had a most enjoyable dinner. We drove a few more hours south to Memphis so I could show her Handy Park and the statue of W. C. Handy — a man who, for a time, called Vandalia’s hometown of Henderson, Kentucky, home. 

We also made a stop at Graceland, where she paid her respects at the resting place of Elvis Presley and his family. Unfortunately, sunset proved our enemy, and though I drove her through towns like Vicksburg and Jackson, Mississippi, the veil of dusk kept her from fully enjoying them. They've now earned a place on our shared bucket list for next week. 

When we arrived home, my siblings had ensured that every comfort Vandalia could possibly want was awaiting her. My darling sisters, Rebekah and Freya, had lovingly prepared a bedroom for Vandalia in our luxurious abode, and she was utterly in awe of its beauty. We’ve documented every bit of our journey together, and Vandalia plans to create a large scrapbook when our two weeks draw to a close. 

The woman I met just after midnight on April 5th, and the one who now lies peacefully curled in bed on April 7th — they are, in many ways, two different people. I knew life had handed Vandalia more than her share of heartbreak. And what can I say? I’ve always been drawn to the broken — perhaps because I’ve always been a fixer.

I watched as the road trip slowly melted the stress from her shoulders. And once we arrived home? Well, let’s just say Vandalia’s life has grown far more interesting — and far more exciting — than she ever could have imagined. I’m certain she’ll share more of her own thoughts when she wakes. 

For now, I sit on the balcony of my family’s home, gazing out over the splendor of Bourbon Street. With a warm cup of coffee in hand, I am beyond happy, deeply grateful, and—dare I say—content with life for the first time in what feels like an eternity. Later today, more of my family will arrive for the Easter holiday, and I believe we’re in for a truly delightful weekend. 

Vandalia promised her loved ones she’d update them as she’s able. I must admit, I feel a touch of guilt that she didn’t reach out when we first arrived in New Orleans—but she was utterly exhausted from the journey. She did mention it was the longest road trip she’s ever taken. I’m sure we’ll both post more over the weekend. 

Here’s to a wonderful Easter weekend, my dearest Vandalia.’

It didn’t take long before comments were soon pouring in from her closest of friends. “Oh my God, these pictures are fantastic,” one of Vandalia’s friends commented. "That bedroom is to die for," said another. “She’s the happiest I’ve ever seen her,” said Dadie — the same friend who’d offered invaluable advice about both our road trip and how to decorate Vandalia’s bedroom to perfection.

I set my phone aside, the screen still lit with joy from her friends’ comments, and reached for my journal — the most cathartic part of my day, a private place where my mind could breathe.

Some days, I journaled at night to relive the memories in vivid detail, as if preserving the echoes of laughter and quiet confessions. Other days, I would journal first thing in the morning to start the day off on a clean slate. This morning, it was both a quiet reflection and a fresh beginning.



‘April 7th, 2023 — just before sunrise. Back home in New Orleans,’ I began, as was my custom. 

‘I cannot fully articulate the two emotions that fill me most this morning — joy and surprise. When Vandalia and I got in the car to make the journey home to New Orleans, I didn’t know what to expect. 

I did hope the road trip would become one of the finest experiences of either of our lives. I had faith I would see the stress melt from her — and in that, I most certainly succeeded. But truly, I didn’t know what to expect — not from the road trip, nor from what awaited us once we arrived home.

I knew I wanted to make the journey unforgettable for her — hence my conversation with — how did she phrase it? The “travel guru” herself, her best friend, Dadie. With each stop, Vandalia’s eyes shone brighter — and it wasn’t merely the tiny droplets of my blood in her system. There was something unfiltered and pure in her wonder — a kind of magic I thought long lost in this world.

I cannot recall a time I’ve been happier simply being in a car with someone. Nor a time I’ve been more enamored by someone finding joy in the smallest of things. Things that others might find utterly mundane.

But it was when we arrived home that the true surprise occurred. I watched, curious and nearly afraid, as she touched my eldest sibling, Freya — and green sparkles enveloped their hands. It mirrored too closely the moment Vandalia first touched me — when blue sparks had shimmered into existence.

I knew, without a single word exchanged. I felt Freya’s energy shift — she now felt the same way about Vandalia that I did. Vandalia had just hugged my youngest sister, Rebekah, and even Marcellus and nothing had happened. Why had it happened with Freya?

And then — perhaps the greatest fear I’ve felt in a thousand years gripped me. A feeling of dread as my younger brother, Niklaus, was mere inches from her, goading her into touching him. I picked up a bit of fear from Vandalia during this moment, too. Perhaps I hadn’t spoken as kindly of Niklaus in his absence as I should have. I shouldn’t have given her any reason to fear him. 

I watched with curiosity and with terror as red sparkles enveloped their hands when they touched. There was power in it. Not the kind that could be measured in magic or might, but in meaning — in memory. I could see my brother’s demeanor change, even if no one else could. I could see a certain light in his blue eyes and perhaps worst of all, I could feel waves rolling off of Vandalia. 

It wasn’t only Freya and Niklaus who now felt for Vandalia as I did — it was Vandalia, too, whose heart began to echo those feelings in return. I wanted to be angry. I wanted to cuss whatever, whoever she had prayed to and begged for her ‘red bird.’ I longed to be selfish with her, more selfish than I’ve ever been with any other woman in my thousand year history. 

If I was her red bird — her savior — then why was my love not enough? But then, Niklaus and I each took one of Vandalia’s hands — and a warm, peaceful, beautiful purple glow surrounded the three of us.

It was as if every trace of jealousy fell away from me in an instant. Freya wondered aloud if it was the ‘threads of fate’—and in my opinion, she couldn’t have been more correct. Because that is precisely what it feels like—Vandalia is the single thread anchoring me not only to this life, but to this world itself.

In Henderson, Vandalia’s best friend mentioned soulmates were for more than just one lifetime. That true soulmates would find each other in each and every lifetime. I know with every fiber of my being that Vandalia LaRue is my soulmate. 

But a part of me—growing smaller, yet still present—is jealous that she seems to be the soulmate of Niklaus and Freya as well. I have spent centuries guarding my heart, guarding what I deemed sacred—and yet, here I am, sharing what feels most divine. I want to be selfish with her so badly. I want to regret bringing her home to meet my family but I cannot. 

To witness my siblings already doting on her fills my heart with an unfamiliar yet profound sense of happiness and contentment. When Rebekah and Freya went above and beyond in preparing Vandalia’s bedroom, I saw the tears that formed in her beautiful green eyes. Such a simple gesture as decorating a bedroom had meant the absolute world to her. It struck me—how little she must have received in the way of tenderness before this.

Just a few hours ago, we sat together on Vandalia’s bed—the four of us united for the first time—and truly, there are no words for the feeling. I cannot put it into appropriate words no matter how hard I try. It was as if we finally found the missing key that unlocked our souls. It was like the final puzzle piece that had been missing for a thousand years had finally been found. 

I know Freya was startled, and perhaps, Niklaus even more so. But I was proud of my brother. Not jealous in the least at Niklaus’s resolve with Vandalia a mere few hours ago. We stood together—his arms cradling her from the front, mine from behind. She was nearly bare between us. I felt the warmth of her skin against mine and knew she felt the same against Niklaus. And yet… it felt right.

It was perhaps the most calm I’d felt in my entire existence. To lay in that bed beside them — it wasn’t jealousy that washed over me. If there was, it was the tiniest of fractions. No, it was the need for more. Not physically or sexually. It was the need for more words written in our chapter together. 

It was the excitement of the dawn that is steadily approaching as I sit on the balcony and write. Niklaus and Vandalia lay together, sleeping, and even I must admit— I’ve never witnessed my brother look so peaceful. For a thousand years, I have sought not only redemption in Niklaus’s eyes, but his redemption in mine—and never has he felt closer to it than now.

When Vandalia told him she would never see him as a monster, even I was taken aback by her words. Her words stirred something deep within my brother—I saw it in his face, in his eyes. No woman had ever dared speak such words to him. The truth? Every woman in Niklaus's past viewed him as a monster at one time or another. Because he had been a monster to each of them, on more than one occasion.

When Vandalia asked if he wished to covet her as well, the way his flesh tensed beneath her touch, and even the shared goosebumps when she kissed him—it was exquisitely beautiful to witness. For once, I did not envy what passed between them—I honored it. Vandalia has awakened a side to Niklaus that I do not recall even seeing when we were human. A gentle vulnerability within him — I will enjoy getting to know that side of my brother.

I never imagined I would one day write such a thing in these pages, but it was a beautiful sight to behold—and I will cherish the memory always. Second only to the beauty of feeling Vandalia fall asleep upon my chest.

If fate weaves threads, then surely hers is the one wrapped around each of our hearts. I pray she knows just how loved she is already, how trusted, how needed, and how valued. Always and forever. Not a moment less.’ 



I set my leather-bound journal aside and opened my laptop to tend to a bit of business. Before I realized it, another hour had passed, and sunrise drew even closer. I could already smell it in the air. That’s when I heard something stirring in the compound behind me—light, tentative footsteps approaching from behind.

I didn’t have to guess who it was that approached me — the smell of her blood, before even the scent of coffee, had started to swirl beneath my nose. Right now, I’m not sure Vandalia had ever smelled quite so heavenly. A perfect mixture of blood that coursed through her veins, coffee, and a delicate blend of her perfume and the leftover cologne of not only mine, but Niklaus’s too.



“Have room for one more with her morning cup of Joe?” Vandalia’s voice was still gravelly from sleep. She hadn’t been awake long—just long enough to sniff out the coffee pot and fix herself a cup. I couldn’t help but notice she was wearing the shirt of mine I’d purposely left in her bedroom. A button-up. She’d paired it with nothing but panties.

There was a fragment of familiarity in this moment — once more, I thought back to when I first imagined her in a different article of my clothing than my suit jacket. I also recalled a dream I’d had in the few hours of sleep I managed while in Henderson… one that felt so heavily like this moment that I almost wondered if it were a premonition instead of a dream.

For a long moment, I couldn’t speak—not because I didn’t want to, but because I needed to take in the sight of her. How comfortable she looked. How natural she felt here, in my home, walking these halls in nothing but a shirt and a smile, as though she belonged. As though she already knew she did. I relished this wholeheartedly and unashamedly.

“I most certainly do,” I said softly, rising to stand before her. I set my coffee cup on the little bistro table. “But first, I need to tell you something every day should begin with. Good morning, beautiful,” I murmured, wrapping my arms around her waist. That, too, made her set her cup aside.

“Good morning, my love,” Vandalia whispered, wrapping her arms around my neck. “I wasn’t expecting you to be up for hours,” I murmured, genuinely surprised she hadn’t slept until noon. “You were sleeping so peacefully.” I wouldn’t have been mad, not one bit, had Vandalia decided to sleep until the afternoon. I was certain Rebekah could have adjusted their shopping schedule a bit. Well, after a slight temper tantrum while Vandalia slept. 

“Mmm, I was sleeping wonderfully. But your brother moved around a bit — and started snoring rather loudly,” Vandalia said with a mock pout before laughing. “In any case, when I realized you weren’t in the bed beside me anymore, I felt like it was time to get up. I wanted to spend time with you,” she murmured. 

It did things to my heart to hear such simplicities from her. That she could no longer sleep because I wasn’t at her side, that she wanted to spend her time with me. It may have been Niklaus’s arms she slept so comfortably in, but it was her desire to spend the morning with me that got her out of bed with a smile on her face.

“My apologies for not being beside you when you awoke,” I whispered, leaning down to brush my lips against hers. “Mmm, no apology needed. This is a wonderful way to be greeted in the morning,” she cooed, rising onto her toes as our lips met fully.

Just beyond us, the sun began peeking over the horizon at the precise moment our lips met. It added a certain intensity to our kiss — a quiet depth I had never felt before. The sunrise told me the time without needing a glance at the clock: 6:42 AM. In all my centuries, I’d never greeted a day this gently. It made me wonder if I’d ever truly lived before her.



Just before I closed my eyes, it seemed as if a soft blue aura of magic swirled around us. Kissing Vandalia truly felt like magic — if I were being honest with myself, it was the closest I’d come to feeling magic flow through me in a thousand years.

Her lips tasted like the sweetest of coffees and once more, I thought back to the dream that I was now almost certain had been a premonition. It might not have been as vivid as one would expect a vision of the future, but I was certain it must have been — because it truly felt like a dream come true to share such a kiss with her as this.



I was hungry for her — in every way a man could be. I thought of the way her blood had tasted — how it had lingered like a forbidden elixir on my tongue. I thought of her bare skin beneath the fabric of my own button-up shirt. I thought of the warmth of her body pressed against mine in bed just hours ago.

I wanted to let myself go — to give in to these feelings, to these temptations. In my mind, I played over a scenario I longed to make real. I imagined lifting her, gently, in the middle of our kiss and placing her at the edge of the balcony. I knew it might surprise her — perhaps even startle her — but she could trust me.

I wanted to claim her — right here, right now. I cared nothing for the people who would soon be bustling down Bourbon Street below us. I wanted to lose myself in her depth, here at sunrise. There was something in her kiss — a silent urgency — that told me she needed me, longed for me, just the same.

I needed her more than I’d ever needed anyone in my life. Control was my oldest companion. But with her, it frayed at the edges — softened by desire, by reverence. But I knew it was too soon. No matter how much I longed for it, this wasn’t the right moment.

Still, I was certain it would come — sooner rather than later — and when it did, it would be on Vandalia's terms, not mine. I would wait for her to orchestrate it. I would never let her feel forced. Never coerced. Never pressured.

“Mmm, the best good morning ever,” she whispered against my lips, then began to pull away. Her deep green eyes opened, locking onto mine. “I hope every morning of mine can begin like this, Vandalia,” I murmured, gently placing my thumb and forefinger beneath her chin. 

“At least every morning for the next two weeks,” she whispered, her tone carrying the faintest hint of sorrow. It pained me not to tell her about the house in Henderson. But I wanted it to be a surprise. I needed it to be a surprise.

“Well, you know I’ll at least come stay in Henderson again — maybe at the bed and breakfast — for Tri-Fest. My family and I might even rent a big place nearby for a week or two. You never know.” I tried to gently reassure her, but not give away my surprise. I needed her to realize that this wasn’t going to be over in just two weeks. 

It was true — she didn’t know what lay ahead in the future. The possibilities were endless, and I needed her to believe that. “I guess there might be a good Airbnb around there or something,” she said thoughtfully.

“Farmer and the Frenchman Winery has some overnight cottages I hear are really cute. I haven’t seen them in person yet,” she said, rolling her shoulders a little and reaching for her coffee. She took a long sip. “Audubon has nice cabins too,” she added.

Before I could comment on the niceties of what the Henderson area had to offer, Vandalia led our discussion in a different direction. “Already been working this morning?” She asked, and I nodded. “I figured I’d get some work out of the way before you woke — that way, you’d have my undivided attention for the rest of the morning,” I said with a chuckle.

“You look stunning in my shirt, by the way,” I murmured, watching as her cheeks flushed a soft pink. “I knew you left it in my room for a reason. You’re too meticulous not to have,” Vandalia admitted, leaning against the balcony and gazing down at the people beginning to bustle in the French Quarter.

“You know me so well already,” I murmured as I watched her. Part of me envied the way she was seeing this city for the first time. But in a way… so was I. There was a newfound richness to everything I took in — a deeper appreciation, awakened by her presence. This had been my home for the better part of three centuries and I felt like I had experienced everything it had to offer and then some. Now I wanted to experience it all like it was brand new with Vandalia at my side.

Vandalia was bringing me out of this mummified state — for lack of a better term — that I’d existed in for centuries. Things I had once found dull and mundane now felt exciting. Invigorating. All because of her. And I knew I wasn’t the only Mikaelson who felt this way.

I lifted my phone and snapped a few photographs of her leaning against the balcony, coffee cup in hand. God, she was radiant in the light of sunrise. The first rays stretching over the horizon bathed her pale skin in a warm, amber glow. Her sleepy green eyes caught the light, brightening with life. I was the luckiest man on Earth, just to witness her like this.

The sleeping beast within me couldn’t help but notice how delightfully delectable she appeared from behind. My button-up was a bit long on her, but not near long enough. It left little to the imagination and her rather skimpy panties left even less. My fangs were extending in desire, replaying the moment in my mind of how I felt with my body pressed against hers in the bed earlier. The way her form fit so perfectly against my own.

I was undeserving of Vandalia LaRue. Niklaus, even Freya — all of us, really — we didn’t deserve her. Not yet. Every time our eyes met and I’d hear the way her heartbeat would stumble over itself — I knew I’d spend the rest of her mortal life working towards deserving her. The knowledge that her time was fleeting only made that vow more urgent.

My own heart stuttered when the thought crossed my mind: “It may take a thousand years to be the man she truly deserves.” I couldn’t allow myself to think like that. Not so seriously and not so soon. At times, though, I simply couldn’t help myself.

Right this moment on this balcony at sunrise with her, memorizing her form from just behind her as I was — this was one of those times. I would die the happiest man if I could spend my next thousand years with her, every morning being identical to this one. 365,000 days of kisses that tasted like coffee, love, and a hint of lust. 



“Oh!” Vandalia said, startled, when she realized I was taking a few photographs. “I totally spaced out on letting everyone know we made it here safely last night. I feel so dumb,” she whispered, shaking her head. I couldn’t stop myself from laughing. 

“I thought you might feel that way, my dear. I’ve already made a post on Facebook this morning and tagged you, so I think you’re safe. After everything that happened once we arrived in town, you deserved a bit of a social media disconnect,” I stated. 

“T-true. It has been a whirlwind.” Vandalia turned, leaning her backside against the railing as she brought the coffee to her lips. Her eyes stayed on me the entire time. My eyes followed her instinctively, drinking in the way my shirt barely clung to her frame from the front side now, instead of admiring her from behind. 

An uncharacteristic pang of envy rose in me for the strangers passing beneath us. My shirt offered her only the barest illusion of modesty — front or back. The real treat, I now realized, was viewing her from the front. Vandalia might not have realized it, but with the sharp eyesight of a vampire — I could see the effect that the cool morning air had on her, if you catch my drift. 

“Come, sit with me?” I asked, beckoning her over with a curl of my finger. Vandalia obliged without hesitation, gently pushing off from the railing. In less than five steps, she was settled in my lap. Internally, I gasped at just how perfectly she fit in my lap and how it felt to hold her in my arms like this. New Orleans was Vandalia's dream city, and by sitting with me like this? She was making every dream of mine come true.



“I’ve missed having you in my arms, Miss LaRue,” I murmured, pulling her close. I breathed in her scent, committing it to memory once more. Vandalia didn’t miss a beat with her coffee, smiling down at me all the while. “I’ve missed being in your arms. Klaus’s are nice, but they aren’t yours, Elijah,” Vandalia murmured. 

“Yes. Niklaus quite owes me for that — my allowing him to sleep so peacefully beside you. With you in his arms.” My voice trailed off as she set her coffee down again. Before I could say more, she gently pressed a fingertip to my lips to silence me.

“As long as the jealousy stays playful between you two,” Vandalia whispered, a flicker of fear in her eyes. “I just don’t want to be the reason you hate each other. I’m not worth that.” Not just fear had come to her eyes but a flicker of something else. A certain tenseness had settled over her like a shiver. I got the feeling that at sometime in Vandalia's past, brothers might have fought over her. The fact that she was currently sitting in my lap proved that neither brother had won.

Immediately, I nodded my head. I knew where she was coming from — she didn’t want to be the ruin of this family. “I assure you,” I murmured against her fingertip. “It would take far more than you to tear us apart.” I kissed the tip of her finger. “My dearest one.” When I referred to her as such, I could hear the way it made her heart flutter. "If anything, I think you’re going to help us to be closer than ever,” I kissed the tip of her finger gently once more.

I hadn’t exactly lied to Vandalia — but I hadn’t been brutally honest, either. The truth was — she was precisely the kind of force that could tear this family apart. I could see how badly Niklaus and Freya wanted her last night. It was written in their eyes — in Niklaus’s hunger, in Freya’s longing. A storm of desire neither had expected. Lying in bed with Vandalia and Niklaus, I saw just how fiercely he craved her for himself.

Niklaus had always been stubbornly selfish. Yet the way he was with her last night still surprised me, even hours later. I’d never seen him with such resolve and restraint. That alone convinced me — Vandalia was not going to be our undoing. She was sure to be our salvation.



“I hope so. I don’t think I could live with myself if I hurt any of you or caused a rift between you,” her voice trailed. “I’m sure Niklaus and Freya would say the same — none of us could bear the thought of hurting you. But as you wisely said, this path will have its ups and downs. My love, I’m ready to walk every step of it with you.”

I pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. That’s when I heard it — the low growl of her stomach. “A bit hungry, are we?” I asked, and she let out a small, awkward laugh. “I—I guess I’ve kind of been forgetting to eat since, well—” I knew what she meant: since most of us didn't tend to eat that particular kind of food.

“There’s no excuse on my part. I knew you’d had a small snack after we arrived, but I should have ensured you were properly fed this morning.” It was a habit of mine — the ‘Noble One,’ always assuming every burden must rest on my shoulders. Even something as simple as our human beloved’s hunger.

“Had you slept a bit longer, I was planning to make you breakfast,” I admitted, rising to my feet and lifting her into my arms as I did. “Elijah!” Vandalia giggled, clearly surprised by how effortlessly I’d picked her up. “Wait — you cook?” I couldn't help but to grin that pearly white grin of mine, loving the tone of surprise and awe in her voice.



“Of course. I could prepare anything your heart desires,” I assured her, and she smiled. “How about we make a ridiculous mess of pancakes for everyone?” Vandalia suggested with a grin of her own. “I like the way you think, Miss LaRue.” I handed Vandalia our coffee mugs to hold, then carried her through the Abattoir and down the stairs like she weighed nothing at all.

Once in the kitchen, I settled her at the breakfast nook and began moving about at my usual vampyric speed. House guests — especially human ones — were unfamiliar territory. I’d never quite mastered the art of slowing down to ‘smell the roses,’ as the saying goes.

“Geez, you weren’t kidding when you said you were fast,” she mumbled. By the time she reached the coffee pot to refill her cup, I’d already whisked together pancake batter and was waiting for the skillet to heat.

“My apologies, my dear — it’s a difficult habit to break. But with you around, I know I ought to slow down and savor each moment," I murmured. I watched as she poured herself another cup of coffee. “Because every moment with you is worth savoring, and worth being fully present for,” I whispered, walking over and wrapping my arms around her from behind. I could hear it again, the sound of Vandalia's heart as it skipped beats. It was as if her heart played a song made special for me.

I leaned into her neck, pressing soft kisses to her skin, drawn in by the way she cooed softly for me. Her body pressed back into mine, and that familiar chill surged up my spine, pulling a soft groan from me against her skin. 

“You’ll taste better than any pancake ever could,” I murmured against her neck. She giggled, slowly turning in my arms to meet my gaze. “I can be your dessert after breakfast,” Vandalia teased with a wicked little smirk, her arms winding around my neck.

The mere thought of tasting her sweet blood again had my fangs itching to descend. My vision darkened; I felt the veins swell beneath my eyes, threatening to take over — if only for a second. I could feel it building — the frenzy, the voice in my head or the devil upon my shoulder, begging and pleading with me to drink every last drop of blood she had inside her.

“I do apologize,” I said quickly, instinctively beginning to pull away. But she shook her head at once, grounding me. “No, no. I’m the one who should be sorry,” she whispered, gently untangling her arms from my neck. "You're much hungrier than I am right now," Vandalia's voice was somewhere in between a murmur and a purr. Then, with quiet resolve, she brushed her hair aside, baring her shoulder to me.

“Please?” Vandalia breathed — and I could no longer deny myself. I was ravenous. I took one of her hands in mine, lacing our fingers together — grounding myself in her warmth before the plunge. In one swift motion, I leaned down and sank my fangs into the left side of her neck. A guttural groan escaped me as her blood rushed over my tongue — rich, euphoric, overwhelming.

“D-Drink as much as you need, Elijah. Please,” she whimpered into my ear — the last word drawn out like a delicate, breathy moan of pleasure. For the first time, I let go — drank feverishly from her, deeper and longer than I ever had before. It took all my willpower to pull back at last, gasping softly against her skin.

When she opened her eyes, I noticed it — a subtle dimming in their color. She might not feel it yet. But I knew. I’d taken too much. Yet just like the last two times, Vandalia rose to her toes and pressed her lips to mine — tasting her own blood where it lingered.

I returned the kiss, softer this time — delicate, reverential even — the taste of her still warm on my lips. A few moments later, I drew back, brushing my thumb gently along her jaw. Then, without hesitation, I brought my wrist to my mouth and bit deep.

“I took too much from you, my love. This will help you feel better,” I murmured, and she nodded slowly in return. She gripped my arm with both hands, and this time, she drank with more intention — more hunger — than ever before. Even as a witch — still tethered to mortality — she was hungry. Perhaps she sensed the cure in my blood, or perhaps it was something deeper entirely. A growing bond neither of us could name yet.



When she released my arm and opened her eyes once more, they shimmered with the brightest green I’d seen yet — luminous, alive. “You keep surprising me, Vandalia,” I whispered. She lifted a brow in quiet amusement.

“How so?” She asked, her voice sounding clearer than before. “You drank like a vampire. Like you enjoyed the taste. Even the sensation.” I pulled a handkerchief from the pocket of my suit and moved around her quietly, cleaning us both up.

“Maybe it’s because I love you,” she whispered. I couldn’t help but smile, a warm and overwhelming sense of joy rising in me at her words. What Vandalia LaRue has brought into my life were things I never imagined I’d feel again — no matter how long I lived.

“And I love you,” I murmured, leaning in to press our lips together once more before finally turning my attention to the pancakes. I couldn’t say it aloud — not yet. The words weren’t big enough. But this? This being so natural with Vandalia, this closeness — it was everything to me.

Whether she was here in New Orleans or I was in Henderson with her — wherever we were, as long as we were together, I was certain of it now. Home was wherever our hearts could be together. Home. The word still felt foreign on my tongue — even though my family had reclaimed New Orleans a decade ago, and first made it ours three centuries before.

Home.

(9,006 words – roughly 41 pages.)

Notes:

Current story stats before updating: 1,587 hits/views/reads. 20 bookmarks! 16 subscribers! I want to first and foremost say THANKS! <3 I know my story isn't the best there is out there, and I know it moves at *such* a slow pace. I know the photos might turn some people off... but those of you who are sticking around to see the twists and turns in the story, those of you who are truly enjoying it - thank you from the bottom of my heart.

For word count - AO3 says we've up to 66,835 in 10 Chapters. My story has hit 800,000 words in Scrivener. So yeah, needless to say - we have a LONG way to go. Those twists and turns are starting very soon, with the 'crossover' beginning in two more chapters.

You'll notice that Elijah once again mentions the Mikaelson's returning to New Orleans in 2013 (a decade ago since this story takes place in 2023.) This isn't exactly canon, as the Mikaelson's returned in 2011 (although the television show premiered in 2013) but it isn't exactly not-canon, either. The main reason I'm using 2013 is because that's when the show premiered. Further reason I'm going with 2013 is because of the trilogy of books that Julie Plec put out (with a ghostwriter). In the first one, 'The Rise' - it explicitly implies the Originals arrived in NOLA in 1713. The very first episode of The Originals TV show, the flashback at the start of the episode is explicitly stated -- three hundred years ago. (1713 - 2013, 300 years.)

As for a life update - not much has changed. The floodwaters around the county have rose higher, and now after several days, are finally starting to go down. Again, my house wasn't affected other than having to sump-pump the underneath of our house a couple of times from groundwater seeping in. We found a small crack in our foundation which, I pray won't turn into a gargantuan problem.

This coming weekend is Easter (which plays a big role in my story, several chapters down the road lol) and the following weekend is Tri-Fest! (Again, another huge thing going on in my story in SEVERAL chapters down the line.) Since this is my last update before Easter, I'll wish you all a wonderful and happy Easter (for those that celebrate) now. :)

My story does have a playlist that goes along with it on Spotify. Each song is relevant to a character, a situation, something that's going to happen in the story in the future. https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5vxkLYvWEGgrkWbLFdN42h (The playlist is public, meaning anyone can listen to it. I wish Spotify allowed me to leave notes on every single song and explain why it's on the list. Ugh. Maybe one day.)

Thanks again for reading!

Chapter 12: Vandalia's Point of View

Summary:

“Syrup never tasted so sweet. Maybe it was the pancakes, or maybe it was him kissing it off my lips like I belonged to him.”

Chapter Twelve:

Waking in Their World: Coffee, Syrup, and Something Like Love

I might not have slept long, but I’d slept more peacefully than I had in ages — wrapped in Klaus Mikaelson’s arms. I was awakened by the sound of his soft snoring, and for a moment, I almost let myself be annoyed. But the weight of his arm around me and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat pulled me right back into stillness.

Instead, I lay awake with my head on his chest, listening to the steady sound of his heartbeat. It was stronger than Elijah’s — less even, a little wilder. I guessed it had to do with Klaus being the hybrid.

I lifted my head just slightly and looked up at his face — and for longer than I’d care to admit, I just watched him. The butterflies in my stomach fluttered to life. This must be what complete contentment felt like. This... this was happiness.



Klaus was the typical type of man I went for — blond, blue eyes, slightly tanned skin. He carried a massive chip on his shoulder, wore tattoos like armor, radiated danger, and had the kind of arrogance that was almost magnetic. Last but certainly not least, he was way too far out of my league to even comprehend. He was the kind of man you daydream about but never dare to believe would look at you twice. And yet here I was — waking up in his arms like I belonged there.

How was I even lying here right now? How had I become so lucky — not just to be loved by a single thousand-year-old vampire, but by two of them? And perhaps even a thousand-year-old witch? How had I been lucky enough to be claimed by the Mikaelson family?

I’d been on pins and needles last night when we first arrived in New Orleans. Now, less than six hours later, I felt more at home here than I ever had anywhere — even in the places that were supposed to feel like home.

When I woke, I felt recharged in a way I hadn’t in a very, very long time. After I’d stared at Klaus until my heart was content, I finally slipped out of bed and noticed Elijah’s shirt draped over the desk chair — soft and familiar, smelling faintly of him.

I slipped it on, and it hung just barely past my underwear. I freshened up in the bathroom, and when I returned to find Klaus still fast asleep, I paused to write in my journal — even if all I managed was a line or two about how impossibly good it felt just to be here. Maybe I just wanted to stretch the moment — to pretend I wasn’t afraid it might slip away the second I blinked. Klaus's peaceful little snores in the background were a perfect ambient sound for journaling.

The real reason I wanted to journal? I wanted to bask in the fact that Klaus Mikaelson was in my bed, sleeping so peacefully. I wanted to bask in all of it — every moment since arriving in New Orleans, and even everything that led up to it. My head was still trying to wrap itself around meeting Elijah Mikaelson the other night — and everything that happened on our road trip. Let alone everything that had unfolded since stepping into the Abattoir just after midnight.



‘The last few hours have been some of the best of my entire life’, I wrote. ‘It’s just before dawn on Friday, April 7th, and somehow, I’ve only been in New Orleans for about six and a half hours. 

The road trip down to New Orleans was incredible. Elijah made it feel so meaningful — so personal and unforgettable. We stopped at Reelfoot Lake and had an intimate moment or two together. Afterward, I couldn’t stop thinking about how Elijah and his brother had marveled at the lake over 200 years ago. I was still in awe at just how old Elijah was — how much life he’d lived, and yet how human he still seemed.

After that, we ate at a nice restaurant and had a delicious burger. Then we drove south to Memphis. We stopped near Beale Street at a place called Handy Park, and they had a statue of W. C. Handy! Elijah admitted he’d known Handy back in the day — having seen him as early as 1893, at the Chicago World’s Fair. I was blown away! 

I felt like Elijah went above and beyond with us stopping to see that — he’d remembered my mentioning we had a Handy Festival every summer in Henderson. I know it won’t be anything like getting to see Handy in person as Elijah did, but I find myself hoping that Elijah will come to Henderson for the week of Handy Fest. I especially want him to experience our Zydeco Night — the music, the laughter, the way the air feels alive. I want him to feel like it's a slice of the Quarter in my own hometown.

A little further down the road, we made a stop at Graceland and it was just as beautiful as I imagined it would be. We couldn’t go inside — it was too late. But I have a feeling Elijah will make it a priority that we go back and be proper tourists soon. 

Elijah slipped it to me that perhaps Elvis isn’t dead after all. Maybe he just became the undead. I guess that would sure put a lot of those rumors about his fate to rest. Too many times I’ve heard ‘Elvis didn’t really die,’ in my lifetime to not suspect, like Elijah, that he might have become a vampire. 

We drove through Vicksburg which Elijah promised to bring me back to sometime during the daylight, and through Jackson, Mississippi as well. I’m dying to go back just to try the barbecue. Then we finally arrived at his beautiful home in New Orleans, in the French Quarter. It is more incredible of a place than I ever could have imagined. 

For the last few hours, I’ve been asleep in the arms of Elijah’s brother, Klaus. I know that probably deserves some explanation. When we got to New Orleans, that strange static-electricity jolt I felt when I first touched Elijah — it happened again.

Except, this time it was with his sister Freya. And then it happened with his brother, Klaus. It didn’t happen with his sister, Rebekah, nor her boyfriend Marcel. I can’t explain it. The only way I can describe it is — I feel complete with Elijah, Klaus, and Freya. Like they fill in the empty spaces I didn’t even know were there. When I’m near either one of them, I just feel so calm and so peaceful. 

So complete. 

When the four of us touched last night — even just for a moment — it was incredible. When I touch Freya, the most beautiful green sparks appear. With Elijah, they’re blue — and with Klaus, a deep, vibrant red. But when more than one of them touches me at once? It’s not just sparks — it’s a full, beautiful purple glow that surrounds us.

They think I’m a witch. But that’s impossible... right? I’m thirty years old. Wouldn’t I know by now if I were one? Freya thinks my connection to the three of them might mean Beth was right — that we were soulmates in another life. Several other lives, maybe. She called it ‘threads of fate’ — like something ancient and beautiful was pulling us together again.

Maybe Freya’s right. Right now, it feels like the three of them are the only thing holding me to this Earth — and I’m not sure I’d still be here without them. For the first time in so long, I feel like nothing else in my life truly matters. Not the stress. Not the depression. Not the constant worry or gnawing anxiety. Only the three of them matter. 

I know — I sound crazy. But maybe crazy is exactly what I’ve been missing. Let’s see what kind of wild things today brings.

Yours truly, V. G. K.' 

I placed my journal neatly on the desk and glanced back at the sleeping Klaus one last time before leaving my bedroom and adventuring through the Abattoir for my first real time alone. 

Thankfully, Freya had shown me the kitchen last night because the scent of freshly brewed coffee had already drawn me toward the kitchen. I poured myself a cup, warm and inviting in my hands, before going out in search of Elijah. I’d found him on an upstairs balcony, drinking coffee and working on his laptop. 



After watching the sunrise together and sharing the most beautiful of good morning kisses, we headed downstairs, the thought of pancakes sweetening the air between us. But first, his thirst had to be quenched. He was starving — and honestly, I was craving him just as much.

I was getting more used to the feeling of him feeding on me. It was starting to feel like an addiction — not painful, not as euphoric as that first time, but still undeniably pleasurable. And this time, he drank a bit more feverishly. I guess he didn’t view me as fragile as he once had — and maybe I wasn’t. Maybe I was becoming something more, even if I couldn’t name it yet.

Afterwards, he admitted he might’ve taken too much. But I didn’t feel any different — no weakness, no dizziness. I felt completely fine. Still, he insisted I take more of his blood than I had before — and I didn’t hesitate. It was odd though. This time, I actually found myself enjoying the taste — like it was something warm, rich, and oddly comforting.

I was human — and I liked the taste of vampire blood. How weird is that? Or maybe, just how weird am I becoming? I chuckled softly to myself, that strange little thought lingering as I watched him move about the kitchen, calmly making pancakes like it was the most normal thing in the world. I finally walked with my second cup of coffee over to the table and sat down with my phone, watching him at work. 

Everything felt heightened again — even more than yesterday, probably because I’d taken in more of Elijah’s blood this time. I was enjoying not having to wear my glasses all of the time. My body was responding in the best ways — no tightness in my chest, no lingering headache, not even the usual body aches. And for the first time in years, I could breathe without feeling my asthma trailing behind every breath.

Vampire blood was a miracle drug. I just wasn’t sure if I was healing — or becoming something entirely new. Maybe it was a little bit of both, I honestly hoped it was.



I truly felt like the luckiest woman in the world. I sneakily snapped a photo of Elijah while he worked his magic at the stove, crafting stack after stack of perfect pancakes — and making it look effortless. I opened Facebook to write a post of my own — but paused when I saw the one Elijah had shared just a few hours earlier.

I swear, every time Elijah did this — it made me want to weep tears of happiness. The way he spoke about me, the softness in his words — it undid me in the best way. Like someone had cracked open my chest and poured sunlight inside instead of the darkness that I had become more than use to.

I couldn’t help myself — I shared the candid photo of him flipping pancakes, along with one of this morning’s sunrise. Both snapshots of peace. Both snapshots of him, in a way — the sunrise, I’d never be able to view it again and not think of Elijah Mikaelson and that magical kiss we shared on the balcony. I added a short caption of my own.



‘I can’t believe I didn’t post when I made it to New Orleans last night — but everything’s been such a beautiful whirlwind. I’ll have to explain everything at some point, but for now I’ll just say: the road trip was incredible, and my first hours here in NOLA have already been unforgettable.

I could really get used to this. The way the Mikaelsons have spoiled me is beyond anything I ever imagined. When I arrived last night, I was completely blown away by the bedroom Elijah’s sisters, Freya and Rebekah, had decorated for me. It honestly brought me to tears.

The kindness they’ve shown me… I don’t even have the words. I feel so welcomed into this family. I fell asleep last night lying between two incredible people. We talked for hours until I just couldn’t keep my eyes open. The road trip wore me out — in the best possible way.

When I woke up, I had coffee out on a beautiful balcony overlooking Bourbon Street and watched the sunrise paint the French Quarter in the most gorgeous shades of pinks, purples, and golds. Now I’m sipping coffee in the kitchen, watching Elijah make pancakes for the two of us — and eventually the rest of his family. I can’t wait until they come down and join us for the day. 

Some of us might go clothes shopping later. I brought a few cute outfits, but I have no idea if they’re Mikaelson Family Easter Party material — and something tells me it’s going to be a thing. I get the sense that it might be a lavish affair. 

For now, I’m going to enjoy my coffee in this adorable little breakfast nook — and watch the man I’m falling in love with cook us breakfast. Maybe I’ll show off some of the new clothes later… if I find anything beautiful enough. ’ 



After I finished writing, I decided to take a selfie and add it to the post. The world deserved to see me like this — happy, maybe even glowing. Of course, they’d never know the reason for that glow: Elijah’s blood humming through my veins.



“Breakfast is served, my love,” Elijah said softly as he placed a stack of pancakes in front of me, along with a bottle of syrup. “Do we have any milk, by chance?” I asked. He nodded. “As long as it’s super cold, I’ll take a glass please,” I added, and he obliged without hesitation. I watched Elijah move effortlessly through the kitchen — graceful, even with something as simple as a glass of milk. I found myself mesmerized for a second or two.

I drizzled a little syrup over my pancakes, then cut them into bite-sized pieces. After the first couple bites, I couldn’t help but grin. “These taste like heaven. What’s your secret?” I asked. Elijah smirked. “What makes you think there’s a secret besides love?”

Elijah slid in beside me at the breakfast nook with his own stack of pancakes. He also set down a small platter of sliced fruit — apples and oranges, two of my favorites. “A teaspoon of vanilla in the batter goes a long way, my dear,” he mused, digging into his own plate.



I reached over with my fork, spearing a few slices of apple and orange to go with my pancakes. “I figured you needed something more than just dessert for breakfast,” Elijah chuckled.

“This is really beautiful and kind of you, Elijah. Thank you,” I murmured, taking a few more bites. I couldn't remember a time when someone had been so thoughtful about something as simple as breakfast. This was just another sliver of proof that Elijah Mikaelson was the kindest and most sincere man I'd ever met.



“There’s no thanks needed, Vandalia,” he said softly. “Taking care of the woman I love — that should be my most important job. My top priority.” I couldn't help but blush. Elijah didn't realize it, but no one had ever made me their 'top priority' before. I'm not even sure that my parents had ever considered me a top priority. Maybe when I was a little girl, a toddler; but I couldn't remember that far back. At least, not much.

“If only human men were so thoughtful,” I laughed, trying to bring myself out of the momentary darkness that had invaded my inner thoughts. “I’ve had a thousand years to perfect the art of thoughtfulness, apparently,” he teased.



I reached forward, dipped my finger into a bit of syrup on my plate, and—without warning—tapped it onto Elijah’s nose. He blinked in surprise, and I just smiled before leaning in to lick it off, a playfully sweet little bonus.

His laughter erupted — warm and unguarded. It was music to my ears to hear a man laugh so genuinely because of me, and with me - a gentle mixture of both.



“You make me happier than I’ve been in centuries, Vandalia. Truly. Thank you,” he murmured. “Now it’s my turn to say, ‘no thanks needed.’ I still feel like I’m dreaming — I’m just so happy,” I said, leaning in to kiss his cheek.

But Elijah had other thoughts. He tilted his head just slightly and caught my lips in a sweet kiss — literally sweet, thanks to the syrup still lingering on both our lips. This morning — this moment — was restoring my soul with a kind of hope I thought I’d lost forever.



“I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” came another voice from the room. But for a few moments, Elijah and I pretended we hadn’t heard a thing. We ended our kiss on our own terms. Only then did we register the voice — Rebekah, strolling into the kitchen like she owned the morning.



“Well, good morning, lovebirds. Oh, what a delightful stack of pancakes calling my name,” she mused, grabbing a plate and fork from the counter. “Sleep well?” Rebekah asked. “Uh, well, I did. But I don’t think Elijah slept a wink,” I replied with a small laugh.

“And why ever not? A gorgeous woman in your arms — how could you not sleep?” Rebekah teased, raising a brow at him. “Because mine weren’t the arms around her,” Elijah said with a soft, knowing chuckle.

“Freya’s still fast asleep in her room. Did you change bedrooms, Vandalia?” Rebekah pressed on. I couldn't help but giggle at the way Rebekah kept questioning, continued guessing; yet came up with no answers. 



I’d barely shaken my head when a blond-haired, blue-eyed god walked into the room. “Little sister,” Klaus drawled. “Why feign such surprise that it could’ve been my arms she slept in last night?” A smirk tugged at his lips.

That weakness stirred again, uninvited and irresistible. Why did my body respond more intensely to Klaus — as if it recognized something it craved, even before I could name it? I felt guilty. My heart was deeply tied to Elijah — he’d literally saved my life. I fell for him first, and I fell the hardest. So how did Klaus already have such a hold on me?

“A proper tangle of a love story, indeed,” Rebekah teased. “Don’t let me be a distraction, dears. I’ll go surprise Marcel with some breakfast in bed. Compliments to the chef.” She blew a kiss to Elijah and exited with her plate in hand.



I watched as Klaus grabbed a plate of pancakes and strolled over to the table. At first, he moved to sit across from me, but I beckoned him over. He’d sit to my right — Elijah still warm at my left. “Come sit with me?” I asked, offering my hand.



“Good morning, little witch.” Klaus’s British lilt was melodious to my ears. “Good morning, my big bad wolf,” I said with a laugh, catching the playful grin tugging at his lips. “Your big bad wolf, eh? Already staking a claim on the King of New Orleans, love?” 

“Every King needs a Queen,” I replied with a grin of my own, lifting a slice of apple to his lips. Of course, he ate it from my fingers without hesitation. “And you believe you’re that future Queen?” Klaus asked, one brow arching. My heart leapt into my throat again. 

“Not while I’m nothing — no one,” I murmured, taking a long gulp of milk to ease the dry tightness in my throat. “A nothing, no one?” Elijah echoed softly from the other side of me. I set my glass down and sighed, the weight of my words sinking deeper.

I was reminded of my brutal honesty on the dock with Elijah and how after I'd spoken, I couldn't take the words back. I didn’t mean to be so hard on myself, but it was a bad habit I couldn’t seem to break. I lived by the motto: honesty is the best policy. All I ever wanted to be was honest with the Mikaelsons. I owed them that much.

“I’m a weak little human. Even if I am a witch, I can’t do magic — not yet, anyway. All I can do is touch one of you and make sparks appear. That’s not exactly useful. That won’t protect the family or the dynasty.” My voice trailed off. Then Klaus took my hand — and just like that, red sparks danced between our fingers once more.



“Spoken like a true diplomat. I’m impressed, little witch,” he murmured, bringing my hand to his lips for a kiss. “T-thanks,” I whispered, heat rising in my cheeks. A second later, Klaus leaned in and let his tongue glide across my upper lip. I blinked, puzzled — until it dawned on me: I must’ve had a milk mustache.

My heart fluttered around in my chest and my lip tingled even after he’d pulled back. No one had ever done something so sensual, playful, and romantic with me. I felt like I did only moments ago, when I’d licked syrup from Elijah’s nose — just a thousand times stronger.



I couldn’t stop myself from doing what felt natural. I leaned into him, wrapping one arm loosely around his neck and pulling him in for a proper kiss. The moment our lips touched, something cosmic seemed to align. The electricity that surged through me — it was indescribable.

When the kiss broke, I realized his hand had tangled in my hair, holding me close. Klaus brushed a kiss against my left cheek, breathing in my scent as he did. It was so intoxicating to be held by him, to be touched by him, and to be kissed by him. It was addictive — dangerously so.



“You know, these pancakes are quite delicious. But I dare say you’re more so,” Klaus purred, and I felt my cheeks flush pink. “Y-you both have sweeter kisses. The pancakes are yummy. But your kisses? They're to die for,” I murmured, glancing from Klaus to Elijah.

“Even the sweetness of the fruit can’t compare,” I teased, twirling a bit of hair around my finger without realizing it. It had been a habit of mine as a kid, to play with my hair during moments where I was embarrassed, shy, or even nervous. Sometimes I'd twirl my hair, other times I'd run my fingers completely through my dark locks, or I'd rub gently at the back of my head.

“I quite agree, Miss LaRue,” Elijah said with a grin, rising to clear his breakfast mess. I, however, wasn’t finished eating. I took a few more mouthfuls of pancakes, suddenly ravenous again. “I must admit, though,” Elijah murmured as he stood at the sink, washing a plate. “Nothing compares to the taste of your blood.” Of course, when he said that, I couldn’t help but blush even harder.



I could tell by the look on Klaus’s face — he was still jealous of Elijah because of it. I longed to even the score between the two of them — not out of obligation, but desire. Something inside me wanted to give Klaus the same intimacy Elijah had tasted. But Elijah had already drunk from me this morning, and I wasn’t sure if — well, I guess the human part of me wasn’t sure there was enough blood to go around. 

“I’d offer you a drink,” I said softly to Klaus as I finished the last bites of pancake and fruit on my plate. “But I’m not sure I have enough left after earlier,” I admitted, my gaze flicking from Klaus to Elijah. They both chuckled — low, amused, and far too confident for my comfort.

“You’ve recovered by now — especially after a good meal,” Elijah said with a knowing smile. “You’ve a lot more to be sampled, love, than you realize,” Klaus purred beside me. That weak-in-the-knees feeling returned — even though I was still seated at the breakfast nook.

“T-then by all means, Klaus. Have yourself some dessert,” I whispered, meeting Klaus’s baby-blue eyes. He reached forward and tucked a strand of my dark hair behind my ear — just like Elijah had done earlier. They shared so many of the same mannerisms — probably from being brothers and being over a thousand years old.

“Are you sure, little witch?” Klaus murmured, his fingertips tracing the bare skin along the right side of my neck. “I’ve never been more sure,” I whispered, placing one hand in his lap — a quiet promise of trust, not seduction. My other hand pressed against the table — as if bracing myself for what was to come.

For some reason, I thought Klaus’s bite might hurt — that he’d be less gentle than Elijah. Maybe it was because Klaus was also a werewolf, and for some strange reason, I’d always imagined wolves as rougher than vampires. Odd logic, I know.

Maybe it was what Elijah told me — about wolves killing their youngest brother. Or maybe it was knowing that to even become a werewolf, you had to kill. It had to be one of those or maybe both. Fear and fascination — never too far apart.

Klaus leaned in closer, one hand resting softly on my shoulder while the other slipped around my waist, settling on my hip. I felt the warmth of his breath against my ear and earlobe, and the sensation made me whimper — my body squirming slightly in his grasp. He placed a gentle kiss on my earlobe… then lower, to my neck. The feel of his lips on my skin made me whine aloud for him.



I wanted to blurt out 'you’re a tease,' but before I could get the words out, that familiar, sharp, pleasure-laced pain of fangs piercing my neck stole my breath away. As euphoric as it had felt when Elijah first bit me, this somehow overwhelmed me even more.

The hand that had been resting on the table now tangled itself in Klaus’s dark blond hair. “F-fuck,” I breathed shakily, a moan slipping out as I gently tugged on his hair. Each pull of his mouth sent tremors through me, like he was unspooling something deep and hidden within my core — something I hadn’t known I’d been aching to surrender.

I started to wonder what it would feel like to be a vampire — to feed from someone you loved, or at least someone you were falling for. I wondered what it felt like to have blood rushing into your mouth and swallowing the gulps feverishly in almost a frenzied state. 

Just like the first time Elijah bit me, warmth bloomed deep inside me. It was stronger than anything I’d ever felt with a human — deeper, more primal, almost cosmic. It made me wish I was sitting in Klaus’s lap, like I had been Elijah’s, so I could move my hips the way they felt like they needed to move. It was as if my body was responding to an instinct older than language — a rhythm older than memory.

I must’ve been squirming, but I was too lost in the pleasure to care. My moans were likely telling Klaus that everything was okay because he hadn’t stopped. After another few moments, I felt the warmth explode, and with it came an incredibly audible whine from my mouth. One fist tangled in Klaus’s hair, while my other hand dug into his thigh, my fingernails raking across the fabric as the pleasure crested.

When it was over and I was left panting, I felt Klaus’s fangs withdraw from my neck. His tongue swirled gently over the bite mark, lapping up every drop of blood with a delicate thoroughness. I whimpered again, my fingers trailing through his hair in lazy, reverent strokes.



“Now I know what my brother was talking about, Vandalia,” he whispered, his breath warm against my earlobe. I whimpered again for him. “I’m rather pleased he didn’t spoil the surprise of what would happen. The smell, love.” Klaus’s voice was a growl in my ear.

I gasped when he pulled me into his lap, as if he somehow knew I’d been silently wishing for it. My bright green eyes met his piercing baby blues. “Do you know how much restraint I’m using, little witch? Do you know what I want to do to you right now?” I had a feeling I could make a very educated guess — but I played innocent.



My cheeks flushed as I shook my head no, a playful grin tugging at my lips. Klaus looked thoroughly amused, a seductive grin curling on lips still stained with my blood. “You’re a deviant, all right,” Klaus purred. I shook my head lightly, my long dark hair falling like a curtain around us. “Mmm, why would you call me that?” I cooed, teasing him with all the charm I could muster.

“For starters — the audacity to cum without me inside you,” Klaus groaned, and a chill ran straight down my spine. I leaned in, my lips grazing his with aching slowness. “But you were inside me. In a way,” I murmured, rolling my tongue over his lower lip, tasting my own blood on him. 

The look in his eyes when I tasted myself on his lips — it was as if he were on the edge, too, barely holding himself back. “You really are so fucking perfect,” he murmured, voice thick and husky. His arms tightened around my waist, anchoring me to his lap like he never wanted to let go.

“I hope you always think I’m this perfect. I only ever want to be perfect for you three,” I whispered, brushing my lips over his before catching his lower lip between my teeth and tugging gently. It wasn’t just desire that tied me to them — it was the way they made me feel seen, chosen, and claimed. And for the first time in my life, I wanted to belong.



Before I could catch my breath, I was pressed roughly against the cool glass of the patio door. I gasped against his lips, my body moving on instinct as I wrapped my legs tightly around his waist while he held me up. “I’ve already told you—I’m not good at sharing, little witch. I want you all to myself,” Klaus growled, and I whimpered in response, pure submission pouring from me.

“I-I can’t turn off the love I feel for Elijah,” I whispered against his lips, my fingers weaving once more through his soft blond locks. “I’ll never let you feel left out or abandoned—or like I love you any less.” My voice cracked with desperation. It sounded like begging. Maybe it was.

Klaus’s hand settled on my neck with a tenderness that contradicted the growl in his voice. “I p-promise to do the best I can at being enough for you, being deserving of you,” I went on. Klaus took me by surprise, gazing deeply into my eyes. “You’re already more than I deserve, Vandalia. More than enough. You’re perfect.” He said it again—and it melted something deep inside me.



“As are you,” I whispered, reaching up to cradle his cheek in my palm. “I never thought I’d fall in love with the big bad wolf,” I murmured, my thumb brushing gently over his lower lip. “Falling in love wasn’t exactly on my weekend agenda,” Klaus murmured, kissing my thumb. Another shiver slid down my spine.

“Last night, I was terrified of what I was feeling,” Klaus continued. “I’m used to lies, deceit—betrayals and plots meant to destroy my family. When I saw those red sparks, when I felt that connection... I was certain you’d been sent to break me.”

“I-I would never. I could never,” I whispered. “If something happened to any of you…” The thought alone sent a sharp ache through my chest. “If I really am a witch, then I want to develop my magic—I want to learn everything. I don’t want to stay fragile. I don’t want to be your damsel in distress. I want to protect you, too.” My words must have struck something in Klaus, because he leaned in and captured my lips in another kiss.



“That’s where I come in,” came a soft, feminine voice from the doorway behind us. My eyes fluttered open—it was Freya. “You’re definitely a witch,” she continued as she walked into the kitchen, “and with time, I’m sure I could teach you a lot.” My face flushed pink — what was going through her mind right now, finding me like this with Klaus?



“T-thank you,” I said softly, unsure of what to do with myself in that moment. I suddenly felt as if I were having an affair on someone as a wave of guilt washed over me. 'You are having an affair,' the little voice whispered.

'You're cheating on each one of them, with each other.' What kind of a mess have I gotten myself into? Just a moment ago, it had felt like only me and Klaus existed. But now I realized Elijah was seated at the breakfast nook again, coffee in hand, and Freya was drifting toward her stack of pancakes as if nothing out of the ordinary had just happened.



My childhood traumas tried to bubble up—the fights I'd witnessed between my parents. The insecurities that plagued my teen years and early adulthood: men using me for this or that, cheating, then abandoning me for the next best thing. I was used to anger and unkindness. So why weren’t they mad? Where were the screams, the jealousy, the seething rage? Where was the belittlement—the physical, mental, and verbal abuse I was used to?

'You're safe, and you're loved,' an even tinier voice whispered in my mind. It was tiny, but it was mighty. It sounded like the voice of a little girl—maybe the girl I used to be, the one still buried deep beneath the damage. It sounded like someone I hadn’t heard from in years: hope.

'You aren't used to being happy and treated with kindness. You aren't used to being cared about. Don't allow yourself to slip back into self-sabotage, Vandalia. This family, they're the best thing that's ever happened to you.'

I swallowed the demons down and braced myself. No one commented on the sudden shift in my aura. Had I really gone through all that, and no one noticed? Or maybe… they had. Maybe they were just giving me a little grace.

“I meant what I said,” I whispered, my focus returning to Klaus—still holding me pinned gently against the patio door. “I’ll never let you feel left out or abandoned,” I murmured. “But that goes for Elijah and Freya too. They deserve time with me as much as you do.” Slowly, his grip on me began to loosen. He released me gently, letting me find my footing, and I tilted my head up to meet his eyes.

“We’re all loners in our own ways, love,” Klaus said, brushing a strand of hair from my face and tucking it behind my ear again. “I think you’re bringing out a side of us that doesn’t want to be lonely anymore,” he added. “Then you won’t be lonely,” I said softly. “Not while I’m here in New Orleans, at least.” I stood on my tiptoes and pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek.



When I stepped away from him, it stung. Instinctively, I wanted to run back into his arms—but the magnetism of Elijah, and even Freya, was pulling me toward them, and that was something I couldn’t deny. Klaus, though… Klaus was undeniably the strongest magnet. I just wasn’t ready to say that out loud to the other two. Not yet.

"Sorry you had to walk in during that," I said, a little shyly to the eldest Mikaelson. "Don't apologize," Freya said with a light laugh. "I can't shame you for your taste in men." I caught the slightly shy glance she gave—first toward Elijah, then Klaus.

"Nor my taste in women," I giggled, gently biting my lip ring. Freya's cheeks turned a faint pink. "Definitely can't shame you for that one," she murmured, her voice trailing. Freya grabbed her stack of pancakes and popped them into the microwave for just under a minute. I guess breakfast had been done for a while—cold pancakes were proof enough.



"D-did you sleep well?" I asked. She nodded immediately. "Like a baby—for the first time in a while. I think I have you to thank for that." I raised a curious brow at Freya. "How so?" 

“I’ve had this feeling for a long time—that something was coming. I couldn’t tell if it was good or bad. Just this constant sense of impending doom. It was like a storm cloud always hanging just outside my vision. Never touching me—just there. Like I was waiting for something… or someone… to make their presence known,” Freya explained.

“After meeting you, that feeling just… dissipated. I—I have to admit, I’m probably partially to blame for my brothers’ paranoia. I thought you might be something bad at first too,” she confessed, trailing off as she pulled the pancakes from the microwave and made her way to the breakfast nook, taking a seat across from Elijah.



"Nonsense, big sister. I let my own paranoia get the best of me. You never said whether it would be good or bad—I just assumed it’d be bad. It’s always bad,” Klaus said. I had a sneaking suspicion he wasn't joking when he said 'always.'

I watched as Klaus poured himself a cup of coffee and joined Elijah at the breakfast nook, grabbing a copy of the morning New Orleans paper and beginning to read. I couldn't help but smile. Even something as simple as this—reading the paper together over coffee—felt normal. It felt like home.



"I can't fault my brother's paranoia," Elijah said. "We're used to everything being bad." He chuckled, and that confirmed my sneaking suspicion. "Exactly," Freya murmured.

“But after meeting you last night—after everything—I no longer feel that way,” Freya said softly. “I can feel your soul, and it’s nothing but peace, serenity… and love. I haven’t felt safe in a long time. But around you? I do.” If it weren’t for the taste of Elijah’s blood still in my system, I might have fainted from the words coming from such a beautiful woman. 



"You probably would've had a different opinion of me a few days ago—before Elijah found me on the dock that night,” I murmured, refilling my coffee for the second time. I walked back over to the breakfast nook.

"I was in a really dark place. But now? I feel like that darkness is gone. And it's all thanks to each of you." I set my mug down on the table beside Freya.

I decided to surprise her, wrapping my arms around her from behind as she sat at the table. "When you're close to me, Freya, I feel calm. Like you've stilled a raging sea," I murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to her cheek.

The look of pleasant surprise on her face—pure bliss. Her warmth against me, the scent of vanilla and the purest of magics—it grounded me in a way nothing else ever had.



“I—I feel that too, Vandalia,” Freya whispered, and I watched her cheeks redden. For a brief moment, she laid her hand on top of mine, and I absorbed the feeling—her touch, her warmth. There was something endearingly shy in the way her hazel eyes flicked to mine and then back down to her plate. Then I slowly pulled away and took the seat to her left, watching as she ate a few nervous bites of pancake.

“It’s cute to see you as flushed as I was just a minute ago… all thanks to your brothers,” I teased, glancing toward Elijah and Klaus. “I wish I could put into words how it feels when the four of us are together like this. It’s like we share the same soul or something,” I murmured, taking a few sips of my coffee.

“A handful of years ago, when our darling sister found us,” Elijah began, “I remember feeling something quite similar. It was as if Freya had always been a missing piece of the family puzzle—and we’d been longing for her without even knowing. It was an adjustment for me, I’ll admit—no longer being the eldest,” he added with a chuckle.

“Elijah used to be the one saving us all the time,” Klaus said with a smirk, “and then Freya took over the role.” “These two are nothing but constant trouble,” Freya groaned dramatically between bites. “I can imagine they’re a handful,” I laughed. “Don’t worry—I like trouble,” I added with a wink in Klaus’s direction.

“Maybe now I can take a bit of that burden—of always protecting them—off your hands,” I said, even though I didn’t feel ready to protect anyone just yet. I still couldn’t even summon the sparks in my hands unless one of them touched me.

“Do I need to go to Diagon Alley for a wand from Ollivanders or something?” I asked, and Freya let out a hearty laugh. “It’s not like Harry Potter, trust me,” she said, still chuckling. I was just happy I could make her laugh like that. “I’m sure there are witches out there who like to practice with wands or instruments… but me? Never,” she added with a grin.

“Perhaps you might show her your grimoire—and our late mother’s,” Elijah suggested from across the table. “A spell book?” I asked, and he nodded. “Our mother was one of the most powerful witches to ever exist. Next to her own daughter, that is,” he said with a small smile. “I’ve no doubt that under Freya’s tutelage, you’ll become an exceptional witch in no time.”

“Beautiful, kind, and powerful. What a combination,” I said with a smile, and once again, Freya’s cheeks turned rosy. “I didn’t gain this kind of power without a lot of sacrifice,” she admitted. “You know quite a bit of our family’s story, it seems. But you haven’t heard all of mine, yet. In due time." The way she said it—soft but heavy—made me wonder just how much she'd endured alone before finding her family again.



Freya was right—I probably knew more about Elijah than any of them. I’d learned a fair bit about Klaus’s past last night, but I still knew almost nothing about Freya… or Rebekah… and the very least about Kol, who hadn’t yet arrived with his wife, Davina. Apparently, she was a powerful witch too.

I looked forward to getting to know all of the Mikaelsons in the weeks ahead. I wanted to absorb everything they could teach me. I was their student now—and they, my teachers. And maybe, somewhere along the way… I’d finally learn how to be something more than what I was. Maybe I’d learn how to belong.

(7,297 words – roughly 48 pages.)

Notes:

Current story stats before updating -- 1,812 hits/reads, still at 16 subscribers, but we're up to 23 bookmarks. Thank you all so much for subbing and/or bookmarking! :) As for the word-count, AO3 says I'm up to 74,603 words in eleven chapters. I wonder if we can hit 2,000 hits/reads before I update again next Tuesday (or possibly Wednesday, we shall see.)

This chapter is a bit heavier on the photos once more. I'll also add, yet again, that Grok doesn't know Riley Voelkel's face, so I've substituted for the equally beautiful and talented Natalie Dormer. But just know, in my mind (and hopefully in y'all's, too) Riley Voelkel is the perfect Freya. I do think Natalie Dormer, at least for photo purposes, brings a certain delicacy to the character.

I've actually done two major updates to my story (in Scrivener) in the last month. I split Chapter 41 (because it was SUPER long) and turned it into two chapters, and added a new one in between. (So basically, a brand new Chapter 42 and Chapter 43.) THEN, I decided to add a brand new Chapter 63 as well! We're a long, long way from finished y'all. Twists and turns galore still await in future. :)

I hope you all had a wonderful Easter! Unfortunately, we're sick as dogs in my house this week. Naturally, I just *had* to get sick in between Easter and Tri-Fest (coming up this weekend.) I'm so ugh, because those are my favorite three days of the year but as of right now, it seems I might be too sick to go. :'( The flooding in my county has gotten better - the river has finally dropped down several feet, so that's definitely great for those who live in the low-lying areas. Severe weather has calmed down as of late, too, thankfully.

My story does have a playlist that goes along with it on Spotify. Each song is relevant to a character, a situation, something that's going to happen in the story in the future.
https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5vxkLYvWEGgrkWbLFdN42h
(The playlist is public, meaning anyone can listen to it. I wish Spotify allowed me to leave notes on every single song and explain why it's on the list. Ugh. Maybe one day.)

I've been working a bit on a few new The Originals/TVDU fanfictions as of late. I'm super excited for them but THIS story is my baby; my true work of passion. So the other fanfictions might be a long way from ready to even upload chapter one. Maybe by next month or so I can have a couple of them ready for chapter one to be put up... maybe, lol.

Thanks again for reading!

Chapter 13: Freya's Point of View

Summary:

“She might have worn Elijah’s shirt and Nik’s mark, but in that moment, it felt like her heart was beating for me.”

Chapter Thirteen:

Pancakes and Magic: Spellbound To Her

‘The feeling I’ve written about numerous times — it’s happened,’ I began to write, sitting in bed and wishing I were still wrapped in the warmth of Vandalia. It was my brothers who had claimed her on her first night here — and though I told myself it made sense, the ache in my chest told another story.

Elijah rightfully so, but I was surprised at how she had already tamed Nik so well. Even I hadn’t managed that kind of hold over Niklaus when I first entered their lives almost a decade ago. It was a weird feeling that was bubbling up within me, but not something I hadn’t ever experienced before. No, I remembered feeling like this nine years ago, when I first came into their lives.

I found myself jealous — not just because Elijah and Nik were in bed with Vandalia, but almost because she was in bed with them. I hated how bitter that sounded, even in my own thoughts. But the feeling lingered, sharp and strange, like déjà vu wrapped in forbidden longing.



‘It hadn’t turned out to be something bad. No — it was something astonishingly good, like finding sunlight where you’d braced for shadow. My brother, Elijah, brought the human woman home that he met while away on his little business trip to the middle of nowhere, to a small river town. 

It turns out, this human isn’t fully human. She’s a witch. The same as I. When we introduced ourselves to one another a few hours ago, something sparked between us — literally. She brought magic out of me, the likes I’d never felt before. 

I watched her touch Niklaus — red magic flared between them. Then the same thing happened with Elijah, only this time, the magic was blue. When they both touched her? The magic became purple. It’s as if she’s only complete when they both are near her. 

But the magic was brightest when I joined them. What did that mean for me — for us? Could I be more than just a piece of this puzzle? Could we truly be four, not three? Elijah isn’t the only one who feels ‘love’ towards her. 

The second I touched her, I felt it and so did Nik. It scared him — to the point that I was afraid he might do something stupid. It was as if he was jealous and upset. I hadn’t seen him that way for quite a while. Not since this business with the werewolves first started up a while ago. 

It’s easy to see why Elijah fell for Vandalia — she’s beautiful, young, kind, and effortlessly intelligent. I gathered all of this in just the few short hours I was allowed to spend with her last night. I desperately want to know her better. I want to be her friend — and perhaps more, if she’ll let me. I haven’t let myself want something like this in a long, long time.

For months I’ve felt something was coming and I assumed it would be something bad, something terrible. But I was so, so wrong. Vandalia is nothing but goodness in the most pure sense. To know her is to love her — and I do. It’s the most incredible sensation of ‘love at first sight’ that I’ve ever felt. 

I think the threads of fate bind the four of us together. Me and my brothers because we’re related but with Vandalia? Perhaps she’s loved each of us before — in lives scattered across centuries, across realms. Maybe fate has brought us back together to get it right. Now, if only we can each find the courage to love her right — in this lifetime.’ 

I closed my journal and, with a wave of my hand, extinguished the bedroom light. I curled up beneath the covers and clutching the pillow to my chest, I thought of all the nights I’d spent alone in this compound — nights filled with spells, not softness. Yes, I had my family; my siblings I'd been separated from for a thousand years.

But last night changed something within me, within all of us. I longed for the pillow to be Vandalia and hopefully someday soon, it would be. I fell asleep wishing that I, too, could be with her in her bed and my brothers, Elijah and Nik there to protect us. 

I’d slept more peacefully than I had in a long, long time. I woke with that same jealous feeling — the desire of wanting to spend the night in bed with Vandalia, Elijah, and Nik. I knew our moment would come. The magnetism was too strong for the moment to never present itself. I was a patient woman. 

After all, the shadow I’d sensed for months had finally lifted. Vandalia wasn’t the doom I’d feared — she was the light I never saw coming. Goodness radiated from her the likes of which I'd never felt before. There was a hint of something else, too; mystery and intrigue. I wasn't an Original vampire like my siblings and yet I craved this woman. Her presence was like a rare-earth magnet, pulling me towards her — strongly.



We’d exchanged a few sweet words last night as I walked her to the restroom and then down to the kitchen for a late-night snack — quiet, flickering moments I kept turning over in my mind. Nothing over the top — just the soft kind of flirting that comes with meeting someone new and intriguing. However, I think we both wanted it to be more than that, we were just both too shy. 

Last night, Vandalia was already reeling from her newfound feelings for Niklaus. That alone was enough to overwhelm her — I didn’t need to add my presence to the weight of it. Love, after all, should never feel like a burden. That’s why I left her and my brothers alone to have time together. I knew our time would come soon enough and I eagerly awaited it. The way I felt when with her was other-worldly. 

The most blissful moments came whenever Vandalia and I touched. In our courtyard when she first arrived, and up in her bedroom. At first, the green sparkles that flared each time we touched puzzled me. They were the color of magic, yes — but also of life, of renewal, of the heart. And somehow, they were hers… and now mine too. The more we spoke, and the more I watched her with Elijah and Niklaus, the more I understood. 

Somehow, Vandalia LaRue was the soulmate of me and my two younger brothers — of that, I was certain. I never would have believed you could share a soulmate with two other people, especially your own brothers, but, here we are. Four soulmates — bound by blood, by fate, and by something older than either. Something ancient, blooming now in New Orleans of all places.



This morning, I woke with a quiet thrill at the thought of seeing her again. I freshened up and slipped into one of my favorite green nightgowns — the silk one that caught the light just so. I wanted Vandalia LaRue to see me. To like what she saw.



Drawn by the sound of voices and the smell of food, I found myself drifting into the kitchen. I spotted one of my brothers seated at the breakfast nook, coffee in hand, a newspaper open in front of him. But when my gaze shifted toward the glass patio door, I froze. Nik had Vandalia pinned gently against it, their lips pressed together like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Of all people… Niklaus. The man who once kept his heart locked behind a fortress of fury. And now here he was, giving her the kind of kiss I thought he’d forgotten how to give. I hadn't seen him show feelings like this; well, not since Cami.

A surge of emotion tore through me — envy, sharp and vivid. I don’t think I’d ever felt so green with envy in all my long life. For a fleeting moment, I wanted to fling Nik across the room and claim Vandalia for myself — like some mystical predator answering the call of blood and magic. But I was not a beast. I was Freya Mikaelson. And she would come to me in her own time — if fate was just.



Even with a tiny bit of self-confidence trying to emerge from within me, a wave of loneliness cascaded over me. Then came the whisper — that cruel, familiar voice inside my head: You’ll always be alone. Look at you. Over a thousand years old, no husband, no children. No epic love story to call your own.



But then Vandalia’s green eyes flicked toward mine — and just like that, the darkness receded. It felt as if she’d whipped the asses of every one of my demons with nothing more than a look. Like a queen banishing shadows from her court. Honestly, it was impressive. 

A few minutes later, when she hugged me from behind at the breakfast table, my heart nearly lifted out of my chest. I did my best to play it cool, to keep my smile soft and steady. But the flush in my cheeks betrayed me — I was certain she noticed.



“I must say, it’s rather adorable how you make our big sister blush like that,” Nik teased from across the table. “Niklaus, don’t tease,” Elijah said at once, tone mild but firm. Their banter should have made me smile — and maybe it did, faintly — but beneath it, I burned. Not with anger. Not even jealousy, exactly. With want. Want for something I hadn’t yet earned.

Now it was Vandalia who flushed pink — and I had to admit, at least to myself, she was breathtaking when she did. I could still see the faint outline of a bite mark on her neck — Niklaus, no doubt. It wasn’t just a mark. It was a declaration. A secret he wore on her skin.



I didn’t need blood to survive like my siblings — I was a witch, not a vampire. But I craved her just the same. Craved her in ways I dared not speak aloud. I had no right to want her like this. We barely knew each other. After last night, she knew Nik well enough to be — dare I say — intimate with him, as she so clearly had been. But me? We weren’t even close to that kind of knowing. Not yet.

“Vandalia has power over each of us,” Elijah murmured, unlocking his phone and scrolling to a photo. From where I sat, I could already make it out — Nik and Vandalia, tangled together in sleep just hours earlier.

“I took this just before I slipped out of bed,” Elijah said softly. “Your first photo together.” Vandalia reached for the phone, her fingers careful, reverent. As she took it from him and gazed at the photo, she looked at it as if she were awestruck. She gazed down at it like it was something that hadn't happened. Something she didn’t yet know how to believe was hers.



She slowly turned the phone toward my other brother, and I watched as a faint smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “I can’t remember the last time I slept that peacefully,” Nik murmured, and Vandalia’s cheeks flushed pink again.

“I—I’m glad I have that kind of effect on you,” she said softly, her voice small but full of wonder. The way she said it — hesitant, sweet — made something tighten in my chest. She didn’t even know the hold she had on us. That was the most dangerous part of it.

“You have that effect on all of us,” I said after another bite of pancake. “You’re bringing out the best in us,” I continued. It was true. I’d been around Elijah and Klaus often these last few years — not enough to make up for all the time we lost, but enough to notice the change. I could tell they were both happier now, their aura having shifted in some positive way. 

“Brother, I’m afraid I must remind you about today’s faction meeting,” Elijah said, folding the paper and finishing his coffee. “It starts in thirty minutes,” he added. Nik followed suit, setting his newspaper down and drinking the last of his coffee.

“Faction meeting?” Vandalia asked. “It’s a kind of council,” Elijah explained. “Leaders from every faction in the city — human and otherwise.” “We represent the vampires, of course,” said Nik. “You don’t represent the witches?” Vandalia asked, glancing at me. I shook my head.

“No — the council formed before I came back to New Orleans. My good friend Vincent holds the witch seat. You’ll meet him on Easter, I’m sure," I explained. Vincent was one of the few people in this city I trusted completely. I had a feeling Vandalia would like him too — he had a way of making everyone feel seen, whether they wanted to be or not.

Now that Vandalia had brought it up, in a way I did feel slighted that I didn't represent the witches. To my knowledge, I was the oldest living witch in New Orleans. Vincent was New Orleans born, though, and he wasn't a Mikaelson. When it came to the witches of New Orleans, that put him two points ahead of me in the running. Vincent was the Regent of the Nine Covens, after all.

“What about the wolves?” Vandalia looked to Nik, clearly knowing now that my brother was the hybrid — vampire and wolf. “Jackson,” said Elijah but Nik finished what Elijah would not — “and his wife, Hayley.” 

Vandalia bit on her lower lip. “Oh,” she whispered. “I didn’t know Hayley was a wolf. I just assumed she was a vampire.” There was an aura shift in Vandalia and I wasn't sure that my brothers had picked up on it, but I had.

“She’s part of an old New Orleans pack — the Crescent wolves,” Nik explained. But Vandalia’s eyes stayed on Elijah, who now wore that soft, sad look that always undid people. Some might describe it, with his eyes being the shade of brown that they were — a puppy dog face. “I saw her picture on Facebook. She’s really beautiful,” Vandalia said softly. I saw the way her shoulders dropped — the quiet slump of someone suddenly unsure of their place. 



“She is,” I said gently, reaching for Vandalia’s hand. “But you’re exceptionally beautiful too — and I have no doubt she’d tell you the same if she were here.” Even as I said it, I wasn’t sure if she believed me. Maybe I wouldn’t have believed me either. Beauty was a difficult thing to accept when your heart was busy measuring itself against someone else's. Especially someone who had meant a lot to both of my brothers.

I wasn't sure just how much of Hayley's story that Elijah had divulged to Vandalia yet. From the sounds of it, since she wasn't aware Hayley was a Crescent wolf — I was guessing she didn't know a lot. That meant, she likely didn't know that Hayley was Niklaus's flame before she was Elijah's. Perhaps flame was a bit too strong of a word, but it sounded prettier than play thing.

“Freya’s right,” Elijah said softly. “I’ve been honest with you about Hayley, our past and my feelings for her, my love. You’ve nothing to worry about — we’re friends, and faction allies. That’s all.” Vandalia slowly nodded her head, but I still felt that uneasy aura coming off of her. Until she saw Hayley in person and how Elijah and she interacted with one another, it seemed to me that Vandalia just didn't have it in her to believe him completely.

“She’s married now, love. You’ve no reason to worry,” Nik added, and Vandalia nodded again, this time with a bit more certainty. “It’s okay to feel vulnerable,” I said, offering a small smile. “We all have our insecurities.” It seemed our reassurance had begun to work. At least a little. I didn’t know if she realized how human that made her — how beautifully, achingly human. In a family full of monsters and myths, she was something honest.

Not that we were being dishonest with her whatsoever. Although she was a witch, she was a mortal in ways that even I was not. There was beauty in that and innocence. That's why what she might have perceived as flaws; like her vulnerability and insecurities, made her so imperfectly perfect to us. I had my fair share of insecurities, more than my siblings realized and certainly more than Vandalia realized. I'd share them with her, all in good time of course.

Vandalia rose from the breakfast nook and crossed the kitchen to where Elijah and Nik stood at the doorway, ready to leave. “I’ll probably be out shopping with Freya and Rebekah when you get back,” she said softly. She’d sounded excited about it last night — but I could hear the tremble now. She didn’t want to be apart from him, not even for a few hours.

“Absence makes the heart grow fonder, my dear,” Elijah said, just as Vandalia rose on her tiptoes and wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing a kiss to his lips.



I looked away for a moment, not out of jealousy, but reverence. What they had — even this early on — was something beyond imagination. And I wondered what it might feel like to have someone look at me like that. Not as a sister or a witch, not as an ally, but as something treasured.

I couldn't look away for long, the urge to look back towards them was too strong. No matter how green with envy I might have been, the truth was more than clear: I wanted to see this young woman happy. I also wanted to see my younger brothers happy.

“I love you,” Vandalia said as she pulled back — and Elijah smiled down at her, wearing a smile I hadn’t seen grace his face in years. “I love you, too, my dearest,” Elijah murmured. “And when I return, I’ll show you just how deeply I’ve missed you.” Then he turned and began to walk away.

Niklaus had been waiting for his moment. Without hesitation, he swept Vandalia into his arms and looked down into her eyes. “Anything you want today, you buy it,” he murmured and pushed some of her hair out of her face. 

“I don’t want to impose on anyone,” Vandalia murmured, but Nik shook his head before she could say more. “We’re used to luxury, as if you couldn’t tell,” Nik gestured around them at the splendor of our family home, “and you should be, too. You buy anything you like, I insist.” 

It was just like him — extravagant, passionate, impulsive. But this wasn’t about gifts. He wanted her to feel spoiled. Desired. Claimed. And part of me… envied how easy it was for Nik to give himself away to her.

I'd buried these feelings towards my half-brother for the better part of a decade. I had no choice but to keep them buried. My feelings for Vandalia were going to help ensure that they stayed that way. At least, I hope.

I watched as Nik dipped his head down closer to hers. “And whatever you buy today,” he murmured, voice like silk, “I want a personal modeling show tonight.” His tone was so seductive it sent a shiver down my spine — and I was his own sister. “I second that — enthusiastically,” Elijah called from the hallway, his voice echoing faintly back toward us.



“Only if you’re sure,” Vandalia said softly, her eyes lifting to meet his. “I’m very sure, little witch,” he replied, before capturing her lips in a kiss so soft it almost looked as if he were pledging her a solemn vow.

When he pulled back, his hand lingered on her cheek, thumb brushing her skin. “Rebekah said she’d buy me anything I wanted… or needed,” Vandalia said quietly. Nik just shook his head with a small, indulgent smile.



“There’s a pile of credit cards in the top-right drawer of the den desk,” Nik said with a grin. “Freya knows where. Take one with my name, and one with Elijah’s — we’ll be today’s patrons.”

“Th-thank you. For your kindness and generosity,” she whispered, cheeks glowing bright pink. Even from the breakfast nook, it made me blush to hear Vandalia so politely embarrassed by my brothers generosity.

“I know my brother wishes to take you dress shopping,” Nik started. “I want you there, too,” Vandalia murmured. Nik’s grin widened. “I was hoping you’d say that. I’ll see you later, little witch.” And just like that, he vanished — leaving her a little breathless in his wake. He had that effect on people — disappearing dramatically after disarming them completely. It was Nik’s signature move, really.

Slowly, a radiant smile spread across her lips. Happiness — it was a foreign emotion for her and it was written in how genuine her smile was.



“I’ve never seen my brothers so in love,” I said as she returned to the breakfast nook and slid into the seat beside me. “I’ve never been so in love,” she murmured, the pink still blooming in her cheeks. “I can tell you mean it,” I said, taking another bite of pancake. “You have one of the most radiant auras I’ve ever seen.”

“I’ve never been a liar,” she said softly. “I’m glad your family sees that.” Then she picked up the newspaper and began reading the headline aloud. “Gas explosion in a waterside warehouse kills ten. Geez.”



“You’ll notice New Orleans has a lot of disasters like that… more often than it should,” I said softly. I figured Elijah had already explained some of the city’s deeper and darker truths — especially if she was to be a guest here for the next two weeks.

“Why’s that?” Vandalia asked, brow furrowed. “Vampires, werewolves, and witches don’t always get along. Then there’s a lot of in-fighting as well. Elijah didn’t tell you all this already, did he?” 

“No. Maybe he didn’t want me to think less of him, the family… or the city,” she said, clearly trying to make sense of his silence. “You’ll have to ask him for the details,” I said gently but firmly.

I felt it wasn’t my place. If Elijah wanted her to know more, perhaps he’d have told her already. It wasn’t my story to tell. And some truths sounded different depending on whose voice delivered them.

“Elijah did a good job with the pancakes, didn’t he?” Vandalia asked. Simpler conversation — I guessed that was her goal now. I did enjoy talking about simpler things, especially with her. “If you liked these, wait until you try my French toast,” I said with a grin.

“I wouldn’t want to hurt Elijah’s feelings, but if I had to choose between French toast, pancakes, or waffles — it’s always French toast,” Vandalia admitted with a wide smile. “My choice as well,” I said. It made me happy that we could connect about something as simple as our love of French toast. “I cook as well,” she murmured. “I’m really excited for all the Easter prep.”

“Ah yes — Rebekah mentioned something about a family recipe for deviled eggs?” I asked, and Vandalia nodded right away. “I’m just so grateful you’re all adding things I like to the menu.” Her cheeks colored again, a soft pink of appreciation. “Well, we have to make sure the food’s good. Not everyone here survives on blood alone,” I said with a laugh.



“Apparently I’m the favorite snack for two of your blood-drinking brothers,” she teased, fingertips brushing over her neck. She said it lightly, but I didn’t miss the way her hand lingered. She was adjusting, yes — but she was also already craving them in return. The bite mark from earlier had just about completely disappeared. “You must’ve returned the favor — your bite wouldn’t have healed that fast otherwise,” I pointed out.

“Elijah,” she murmured. “He said I looked a little weak after he fed this morning. But that wasn’t the first time. The night he showed me what he was… I tried a drop. And it’s addicting.” It perplexed me how she found Elijah's blood so addicting. I wasn't naïve, I knew there were blood junkies all around New Orleans. Humans who got off on a euphoric high that vampire blood provided them with. I'd never experienced such a thing the few times I'd tasted it.

“I don’t need my glasses after feeding. My vision goes back to perfect. And my depression lifts — my anxiety, too. It’s like the best antidepressant and anti-anxiety med, all in one.” Vandalia paused, fiddling with her fingertips. “This makes three times now. Every time he’s fed from me… I’ve returned the favor.” The way she said it — quiet, guarded — told me she expected judgment. She wasn’t going to get it from me.

“Hey — this is a no-judgment zone,” I reassured her gently. “They’ve had to heal me a time or two in the past. So I know what you’re talking about.” I’d never let myself get hooked on it. Maybe Vandalia had more health issues than I ever did. I was almost certain she did.

I wasn't quite as immortal as my Original vampire siblings but I was an immortal firstborn Mikaelson witch. I could only think of one permanent health issue I had, and vampire blood wasn't going to cure it.

I didn’t particularly remember being fond of the taste of their blood, either. Still, I didn’t judge her for it. Sometimes, when you’ve spent a long time feeling broken, anything that mends you — even briefly — can feel like salvation. A miracle drug.

Vandalia wasn’t a powerful witch — not yet, anyway. Right now, she was still closer to mortal than magical. And I knew how easily a vampire’s charm could overwhelm someone like that. But I wanted to help change that. With time — and the right guidance — I truly believed she could be every bit as powerful as I was.

“They’ve had to heal you?” Vandalia asked softly, worry already in her voice. I nodded. “Just a couple times. I would’ve survived, probably — but you know how protective brothers can be of their big sister. They were concerned that I wouldn't be okay."

“I-I’m glad I wasn’t around for that,” Vandalia said quietly, her expression falling. “Why’s that?” I questioned and in a quiet voice, she replied, “I don’t think I could’ve handled seeing you hurt. Or Elijah. Or Klaus. I don’t even like imagining it.”

“We’re tougher than we look. A thousand years is no small feat — especially when so many have wanted us dead along the way,” I said with a small laugh, but noticed how worried Vandalia really was. I reached for her hand instinctively. The moment our skin touched, that calm warmth bloomed between us again — grounding, steadying. “You haven’t a thing to worry about, Vandalia,” I tried to ease her worries, lacing our fingers together. 



“You probably all think I’m overly emotional. I’ve got abandonment issues — big ones — and I’m always thinking worst-case scenario. I mean… pessimist doesn’t even begin to cover it. I don’t like to think of myself as one. I like to argue I’m just cynical, not pessimistic — but deep down, I know I’m a natural-born worrywart.”

I could tell she was nervously rattling on but I didn’t mind it whatsoever. I happily held her hand and listened. There was something beautiful in how honestly she unraveled — no masks, no defenses. Just heart.

“Everything and everyone I love disappears on me, Freya. I cried when Elijah put me in the car that first night we met — and I’d only known him a few hours. I was so afraid I’d never see him again, or that I’d dreamed him up. Part of me really thought maybe I’d jumped into that water after all — and just dreamed him up as I drowned.”

“But now, here you are,” I said softly, trying to calm her. “In the city you always dreamed of, with the man you thought was only a dream himself. And not only does he love you…” My voice caught a little. “We all do.” It was fast, but I meant it. Even if for now it was a friendship or a strong crush kind of love, I adored Vandalia LaRue so much already. 

“Which makes me really believe I must’ve jumped that night. Because how else did I get this lucky? To be loved and accepted by each of you so quickly, so easily?” It was a rhetorical question — I knew that. But I still wanted to answer her. However, Vandalia continued on before I had the chance. 

“I know I’m going to fall as hard and as fast in love with you as I did with Elijah,” she whispered her confession. “I’ve always loved fast and hard. I heard a quote once that felt like it was written about me: There was never any gray area to me. I never could do anything by half. I either fucking loved it, or I fucking hated it. That’s me to a tee.” 

“I think you’ll find we Mikaelsons are exactly the same,” I giggled, because that quote could’ve come from any one of us. In particular, it sounded most like my brother Nik. “I’m a patient woman, Vandalia. A little more shy. More reserved. You’ve probably noticed.”

“You? Shy?” Vandalia teased, reaching up to brush a strand of my hair behind my ear. “Not a chance.” A sweet giggle left her lips and it made my heart skip a beat or two. “Patience hasn’t ever been one of my strong suits. It’s good that you make up for what I lack,” Vandalia admitted and started to lean in a bit closer.

My heart race quickened. And then, just like before, those soft green sparkles began to dance between our hands — delicate, alive, like our magic knew what was about to happen before we did.

“I wonder how many sparks will fly… if I do this,” she whispered, inching closer still. My hazel eyes flicked to her lips. I was nervous — but more than that, I was ready. I’d wanted to kiss her since the moment I saw her last night. I’d just been waiting for the right moment. This one.

Then she closed the space between us — and kissed me. Soft, certain, everything I’d been waiting for. It was my first kiss in what felt like forever, and I couldn’t have imagined it with anyone but her.



My eyes fluttered shut as I sank into the moment. The butterflies in my stomach stirred with a vengeance — a feeling I hadn’t known in centuries. I memorized the feel of her lips against mine — the warmth that seemed to pulse between us. Vandalia’s arm slipped around my waist, tugging me closer — and I didn’t hesitate. I looped one arm around her neck, my fingers threading into her soft, dark hair.

She wore Elijah’s shirt. Nik’s mark still lingered on her neck. But in that moment, it didn’t matter. Her heart felt like it beat for me — and mine, only for her. By the time I remembered to breathe, I had to pull back — just enough to gasp softly, my forehead resting against hers.

“Guess I underestimated the sparks,” she whispered, and I slowly opened my eyes to meet hers. “We’re glowing,” I whispered, watching the green shimmer that swirled around us like fireflies. I slowly drew my hand from hers, spreading my palm flat. “Phasmatos incendia,” I murmured — and a green flame sparked to life above my skin.



“Holy shit,” Vandalia breathed, eyes wide with stunned wonder. “One of the easiest spells,” I told her gently. “Try it — open your palm, picture a flame, and say the incantation.” For a moment, she just stared — like she couldn’t decide if she was awestruck or afraid. Maybe both. The magic, the kiss, the glow… it was a lot to take in.

Vandalia slowly opened her palm — then closed her eyes. I hadn’t told her to do that, but it was a good instinct. It certainly wasn't a bad technique. Some witches — hell, even humans — could visualize more clearly with their eyes closed. A few seconds passed, then I heard her murmur, “Phasmatos incendia.”

A few purple sparks flew from the palm of her hand. “You’re doing great. Keep repeating the incantation,” I encouraged gently. Her eyes were still closed. “Sometimes it takes a few tries to get it right when you’re just beginning. Just keep focused, and keep repeating the incantation.” The room felt electric. Magic stirred in the air — wild and new, responding to her will.

Vandalia drew a few deep breaths and murmured the incantation — again, and again, and again. With each attempt, the sparks grew brighter, wilder. Then, with one last surge of intent, a ball of violet flame burst to life in her palm.



“You did it!” I cheered, unable to hide my excitement. Her bright green eyes flew open, wide with wonder, fixed on the flame as if it were the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen. “I… I did that?” Vandalia whispered, blinking in disbelief.

“You can do that — and so much more. All we need is practice, time, and trust. There’s no telling how powerful you could become,” I said honestly. My heart was soaring for her. Just like I’d told Elijah — it was as if her soul had always been reaching, yearning for the supernatural door to open itself. Now that the door had opened, she would thrive.

She slowly closed her hand, snuffing the flame — then opened it again and whispered the words. This time, the fire sparked instantly. Over and over, she repeated the spell, testing both hands. And then, with a determined little smile, she summoned twin flames in each palm.

“See? Magic is really very simple — want something, and then let yourself have it.” As soon as I said it, Vandalia burst into giggles, her grin stretching wide. “Alrighty then, Aggie Cromwell,” she teased, and I felt my cheeks warm. “You’re a Halloweentown fan, huh?” Vandalia added, eyes twinkling. I gave a slow, sheepish nod.

“Disney films are a bit of a guilty pleasure for me,” I admitted. Then, without warning, she leaned in and gave me another soft kiss. I wanted to melt into it, but she pulled away too quickly, whispering, “Me too,” before I even had time to register the kiss.

“We should have a movie marathon one night — lay in bed, eat popcorn, cuddle,” Vandalia murmured. I nodded a little too eagerly, warmth blooming wildly in my chest. “I-I’d love that.” We’d found each other's hands and had laced fingers once more. The green magic shimmered faintly again — always there, always responding when we touched. “My brothers will want to join in,” I whispered, glancing down as a small wave of guilt crept in.



It was no use pretending. She leaned in again, eyes locked on mine, clearly wanting another kiss. My lips parted in anticipation, breath catching in my throat. The green magic at our hands began to radiate brilliantly once more. “I’m here for two whole weeks,” Vandalia said softly. “I want a night with each of you — including you. I promised to make this work. I want you all to feel seen… and wanted. No one will feel left out."

“Klaus will be the hardest to convince,” I said quietly. I hadn’t shared a thousand years with Nik like our siblings had, but somehow, I still felt like I understood him best. Maybe because we were both used to feeling like the odd ones out. The ones who watched from the edges and never quite belonging.

“Last night, he looked like an abandoned puppy — the way he lingered outside my room before coming in.” I was relieved Vandalia had picked up on it too. “Klaus is used to getting what he wants, when he wants it — and never having to share. He wasn’t lying when he said he’s not the sharing type. Honestly? I’ve never known anyone more selfish. But I don't mean it as an insult, not entirely at least.”

A part of me felt bad having spoken about my brother in such a manner, but even he would likely look to me with his usual grin and chuckle saying: ‘you’re absolutely right.’

“I’m not usually the sharing kind either,” Vandalia admitted, tugging at her lip ring like it was a tell for vulnerability. “But this — all of this feels right. I told him I wouldn’t turn my feelings off for Elijah, or for you. But I can’t deny I have them for him as well. All of these feelings are growing stronger and stronger,” Vandalia whispered and lent in once more, finding my lips with hers. 

The second her lips touched mine again, my thoughts scattered like ash in the wind. Every worry about Klaus and Elijah, about balance, about doing this ‘right’ — vanished beneath the warmth of her mouth.



Part of me burned to take control — to show her I could be just as bold and brazen as my younger brothers. But another part ached to surrender. To let her guide this, to let her choose the rhythm between us. The submissive side of me wanted to just go with the flow, and go with the pace that she set for us; while the dominant side of me wanted to burn her in the best of ways.

I swallowed my nerves and tugged her closer, guiding her into my lap without ever breaking the kiss. Her body pressed against mine like it belonged there. When she nipped at my lower lip, a moan slipped from me — unbidden and raw. I couldn’t remember the last time someone made me feel like this.

This, apparently, was the opportunity she’d been looking for. I felt the warmth of her tongue slip into my mouth and I felt myself blush at the contact of our tongues. It had been too long since I’d kissed someone with this kind of fire. Some quiet part of me panicked — what if I wasn’t good at this anymore?

I suckled her tongue gently, and she shivered, moaning into my mouth. We stayed locked together like that, trading breath and heat, until the moment pulled us apart. When we finally came up for air, both of us were gasping, foreheads resting together, eyes still closed.

“T-that was…” Vandalia's voice trembled. “Incredible,” I whispered. “More than that. I— I don’t even think I’ve kissed them like that.” That particular admission made me feel ever so slightly egotistical, and it made my heart race for a moment or two. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t like the idea of being unforgettable to her. Of giving her something none of them had yet.

In time, Vandalia would come to see it — I was a blend of both my brother Elijah and our half-brother Niklaus. I often came across as more reserved and put together, like Elijah. But once you got to know me, the real me — I could be quite egotistical and spontaneous, like Nik. 

“I think,” I was starting to finally come back down to Earth and think a bit more long-term and rationally about the day ahead of us. “I think, perhaps, we should get you dressed for our shopping trip. My sister-in-law Davina, and my brother Kol will be home by this evening. Unless you plan on going clothes shopping in my brother’s shirt?” I teased, unable to help myself.

I thought Vandalia looked rather beautiful in Elijah’s button-up. Maybe even more than beautiful — sexy. There was something intoxicating about the way his shirt clung to her like it knew her curves by heart. Like it had chosen her.

Vandalia blushed and looked down, admiring herself in the white button-up. “I do like it, honestly. But you’re right. Will you help me pick something for today?”

“Lead the way,” I said softly and placed one last gentle peck to her lips before she crawled off my lap and started to walk out of the kitchen. I followed behind her. I couldn’t help but admire the view. Her skin was ungodly pale — a kind of ethereal, haunting beauty I found myself aching to touch again.



When we started to climb the stairs, I caught a few glimpses of her black lace panties. I bit my lower lip, trying to chase away the thoughts that flooded in. Thoughts that made me feel more like Kol than I was comfortable admitting. I couldn’t remember the last time I let myself feel this wild, this free.



Once inside Vandalia’s bedroom, I watched as she kneeled down to her suitcase and started to look through clothes. “I really am in desperate need of this shopping spree. Most of my bras are from early high school. They’re comfortable, broken in… maybe a little too broken in.” 

She showed me a sports bra with a giant hole in the side of it from years of use. I let out a soft chuckle, but it wasn’t mocking. It was endearing, the way she made even something so worn-out seem lovable. Like it had been through a lot of life with her.

“A lot of my cutest outfits, if I’m being honest, have come from my best friend Lacy. I’m pretty sure I got this from her,” she pulled out a cute black camisole top. “Since I’m going to wear a black bra, I think it would be alright for today.” 

Rummaging some more, she pulled out a pair of jeans. “These are literally the only jeans I have that still fit. I’ve got a bunch of old pairs back home — size twelves and fourteens from middle school — but I can’t squeeze into them anymore. There’s a pair of sixteens I can wear, somewhere, but I haven’t been able to find them. These are eighteens.” I hated how those numbers made her wilt. As if a digit on a tag could tell her anything real about her worth.



The look on her face was absolutely heartbreaking. I couldn’t stop myself from kneeling down beside her and taking the jeans from her hands and laying them down. Then I took Vandalia’s hands into my own.

“You are absolutely beautiful — at any size. But if losing weight is something you want, not because you think you have to, then I’ll help you however I can. We all will. Everyone under this roof will support you. We can cook healthier food, exercise,” my voice trailed off.

A few tears had come to Vandalia’s eyes. “Every time I try to get into a workout routine, I lose a pound or two… and then I get so sick. It’s like God is telling me ‘I made you to be fat for a reason, my child.’ It’s so disheartening. Food has always been my biggest addiction in life, too. Food has always been my go-to for dopamine and serotonin.” 

“Of course it is,” I said softly. “It’s comfort. It’s celebration. It’s control when everything else feels out of reach. That doesn’t make you weak, Vandalia. It makes you human.”



“Now you’ve got us for your dopamine and serotonin boosts,” I said softly, dropping one of her hands to reach up with mine and wipe some of her tears from her cheek. Her skin was warm, her sadness still so close to the surface. But there was something steady growing in her gaze now — trust.

“Not to say you can’t still enjoy food. We’ll just be active together. I’m sure if Elijah or Klaus were here right now, they’d say the same thing. If you want some home gym equipment, just say the word to them and they’ll make it happen.” I offered her a smile, just to show her everything really was going to be okay.

“This is going to take some getting used to,” Vandalia murmured as she finally sat completely down on the floor. I scooted over a bit closer to her and wrapped an arm around her. “Which part?” I questioned. “People caring. People being so willing to do things for me, or because of me, and it not being because I’m a burden or an inconvenience to them. I’m so used to a different kind of life, Freya,” her voice was thick with sadness. 

Vandalia's words hit me in the chest like a weight I hadn’t expected. How could anyone ever make her feel like a burden? She was light itself—she just hadn’t seen it yet. I felt a rage rising up in me; I wanted justice for Vandalia. I wanted to hurt the ones who had dared make her feel such a way throughout her life. My inner-Niklaus was trying to come out.

Then, like an angel sitting upon my shoulder, it's as if I could feel a hand resting there. Elijah — always the voice of reason in this household. My inner-Elijah was murmuring: 'instead of doing harm to those who have wronged her, dear sister; we will love her more fiercely than anyone else could ever dare to dream.'



“You’ve endured too much that you didn’t deserve,” I gently rubbed my hand over her back. That much was so very obvious to me. “I hate that old phrase — ‘it made you who you are today.’ I wish you wouldn’t have had to endure it all to become the beautiful, intelligent, and strong woman you are today,” I went on. 

“That’s gonna take some getting used to as well. I just can’t view myself through your eyes, or Elijah’s, or Klaus’s.” Vandalia’s voice trailed off as she started to lean into my hug. She was still learning to see herself through our eyes. But she’d get there. And when she did, she wouldn’t just glow — she’d blaze.

“I think I might get a shower, if that’s okay. I don’t want to try on a ton of clothes today and well, be sweaty or anything.” Vandalia slowly stood up and I did as well, still holding onto her hand. 

“Of course, there's no hurry. I’ll go tell Rebekah you’re getting ready for the day. Then we’ll meet up with you when you’re downstairs,” I gave her a smile and then lent in, grazing my lips against hers. “Maybe I’ll hurry just a little bit,” she mumbled against my lips in the kiss, her arms wrapping up around my neck and mine around her waist. 



“Mmhmm, that might be good,” I mumbled in return, a bigger smile forming on my lips as the kiss came to an end. It was hard, but I finally pulled myself from her and disappeared to the other end of the compound. Time to go find Rebekah — and let the day begin.

(7,824 words – roughly 42 pages.)

Notes:

Chapter 13 brings us a new point of view - Freya's! This chapter is about as photo-heavy as the last one. Which again, I will add - Grok doesn't know Riley Voelkel's face, so I've substituted for the beautiful Natalie Dormer. In my head, no one can replace Riley but for photo purposes, I do believe Natalie brings a little unique charm to the character.

My dream of hitting 2,000 views/reads by Tuesday (today, update day) was realized! I'm at 2,018 views/reads, 17 kudos, 18 subscribers, and 24 bookmarks! Thank you all SO much for following along with my story. It means a lot to me. I wonder if we could hit at least 2,200 by next Tuesday? Maybe 2,250? :D

You'll notice Freya says she came into the life of her siblings ten years ago. My story takes place in 2023, and I have the Originals returning to New Orleans in 2013. Freya, technically, in my story comes into the lives of her siblings in 2014. But that's close enough to ten years that of course, by now, she's rounding it up.

Sadly, as I said in my last update, I got sick as a dog in between Easter and Tri-Fest weekend (the weekend that just ended.) Unfortunately, for the first time in my adult life... I had to stay home and not attend the festival. My favorite three days of the year, I spent in bed, sicker than all-get-out. On the bright side of it, though, I was able to write a bit to my story those three days - chapters involving the Tri-Fest that are WAY ahead in the future of where we're at right now in the story.

This is the first of many Freya chapters. For the most part, you'll realize the story changes between Vandalia, Klaus, Elijah, and Freya's Point of View. While Vandalia is 100% the 'main character' of the story, the 'main relationship' is Vandalia/Elijah/Freya/Klaus. That's why the majority of the story will absolutely be told from their points of view, as they are the most important (per se, at least.) That said, though, my story is very much about *all* the Mikaelson's, all of their friends or 'relations' whichever you'd like to call 'em. They all play a key part in the story.

While going over this chapter and getting it ready to put up on here tonight, I had the idea to create a brand new Chapter 14 from another point of view. I've been dabbling about writing from this point of view since I started the story in December 2023. Three guesses who's point of view it'll be, lol. This makes the third major 'overhaul' if you will, of my story in the month of April. I blame you guys wholeheartedly for helping me fall deeper in love with my own writing.

Later on down the road, I'll introduce some chapters from yet another persons point of view, maybe even more points of view than just that. You'll have to stay tuned for it ;) Any guesses? I've left subtle clues to some MAJOR plot-twists in my story, literally starting in chapter one. Let me know if you've guessed any.

As always, I'll leave y'all with my Spotify Playlist for this story. It's public, so anyone can listen to it. :)
https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5vxkLYvWEGgrkWbLFdN42h

I advertise for my story on Tumblr & IG - Tumblr is 'borntobeamikaelson' and IG is 'CemeteryGirlx.' Feel free to follow!

Chapter 14: Rebekah's Point of View

Summary:

“She did my hair. I did hers. That’s how we talk, how we heal — in laughter, in gossip, making up for lost time together.”

Chapter Fourteen:

Satin, Secrets, and Sisterhood: A Morning of Twirls and Curls

“Something smells good,” Marcel murmured, his lips brushing against the soft skin of my shoulder blade. I wasn’t entirely ready to get up yet, but excitement quickly took over. Once he mentioned the scent wafting into our bedroom, I couldn’t ignore it either. I knew that smell — Elijah’s heavenly pancakes.



“Elijah must be cooking breakfast,” I whispered, rolling over into the arms of my handsome beau. “Trying to impress her, no doubt,” he teased — but I knew Marcel meant well. I rolled my eyes, placing my hands upon his bare chest. “We all seem to be doing a bit of that,” I reminded him. 

Yesterday, Freya and I spent hours shopping to create a proper bedroom for Vandalia. Elijah had told us exactly which room he wanted us to remodel — along with a very detailed list of what Vandalia liked. Really, they were personality traits more than preferences. And we’d delivered on every one of them. After shopping until we were content, we spent the next several hours decorating. Honestly? It was a masterpiece.

The most awe-inspiring piece in the bedroom was a hand-crafted birth chart that Freya created. Naturally, she’d used a touch of her magic — and, apparently, a bit of maternal artistic talent I hadn’t realized we shared. When she finished, I could’ve sworn Nik had painted it. But the more I gazed at it, the more I felt Freya’s femininity and her subtle magic shining through.

Of course, Nik looked in a few times, scowling as only he could. You had to know my beast of a half-brother to understand why the sight of someone else’s happiness would make him grimace. Instead of being thrilled that Elijah was bringing home a woman he’d fallen in love with — in a tiny Kentucky town, no less — Nik chose to brood. As I reminded Freya, after so many centuries, you learn to ignore him and his fickle tantrums.

More than once while decorating, Freya and I admitted we should probably spruce up our own bedrooms when time allowed. Freya didn’t share her room the way I did mine — but I shared mine gladly. Marcel and I had spent too many years sneaking around like thieves in the night just to love each other.

When Niklaus finally allowed us to be together, Marcel and I slowly began to take full advantage of that freedom. And now? I liked to believe Nik couldn’t imagine Marcel living anywhere else but here with us. I know I couldn’t. As many times as I’ve dreamed of a little home just for us — children running around, us growing old together — that future was never really ours. Not realistically, anyway.

There were times when that was a harder pill to swallow, but for the most part, I’d made peace with it. The cure wasn’t something burned into my brain anymore — not something I dwelled on as a missed opportunity. No. Now that Marcel and I were together, I had something real. Something that made this cursed life feel a little less damned.

After seeing the way Freya — and then Nik — looked at Vandalia when they met her last night, I believed they, too, had found something to make their cursed lives feel a bit less damned. None of us expected the literal sparks that flew between the young Kentuckian and two more of us Mikaelson siblings.

Apparently, Vandalia was a witch — one who hadn’t known her own heritage. I knew she was enchanting from the moment I saw her photograph, but I hadn’t realized — and neither had she — that she was an actual witch. 

I began to pull away from Marcel and sit up in bed. “Don’t tell me you’re actually getting up this early,” he murmured, his voice practically a purr. I knew what he wanted — and I wanted it too. In fact, it had become a bit of a morning ritual for us these days. “Breakfast smells too good to ignore, plus I’m much too excited,” I admitted without shame. The thought of a proper shopping spree with the ladies today — it had all the makings of a wonderful day.

“You act like you didn’t just drop a couple thousand on new clothes at the start of the year,” Marcel mused, lazily sitting up in bed. “That was for winter, darling. It’s spring now,” I reminded him. “Can’t be seen in last season’s fashions, huh?” he teased. I shot him a look as I stood. “You should know me better than that by now,” I practically sang.

“You’re right.” I watched him lick his lips, his eyes trailing over my body. I was as naked as the day I was brought into this world — though I’d wager I was far more beautiful now. I crossed the room to the oversized closet we shared and pulled out a set of pajamas. “It should be a crime for you to ever put on clothing,” Marcel murmured from the bed. “I’m sure it is — at least in some tiny village in Europe,” I teased.

As I slipped into the blue silk pajama set, I heard Marcel’s phone start to ring. It didn’t take long to realize that business was trying to pull him away again — just like it had last night, when I’d put my foot down. As I finished dressing and he ended the call, I gave him a pointed look. “Whatever it is, it better wait until after breakfast.”

“Nothing I can’t handle with a few calls. I’ll join you in the kitchen in a bit,” Marcel said. It wasn’t exactly the answer I wanted — but it would do for now. I lingered, watching him for a few more seconds as he began dialing again. I couldn’t help but smile. It was a beautiful sight: him conducting business in bed, golden morning light pouring in, and no looming crisis to tear him away. Just us, like this. Finally.



I left Marcel to his phone calls and text messages while I ‘vamped’ myself down to the kitchen. As I approached, I could already hear Elijah and his girlfriend, Vandalia, deep in conversation. I paused at the entryway and peered inside.

I wasn’t trying to be a spy, exactly — but I could tell they were having a moment, and I certainly wasn’t about to ruin it for either of them. There was a gentleness in the air — one I rarely felt in this house. That, more than anything, told me it was best to wait.

“You truly make me happier than I’ve been in centuries, Vandalia. Thank you,” Elijah’s voice was a murmur. I couldn’t help but grin — I hadn’t heard my brother sound like that in nearly a decade. In my opinion, he’d been alone far too long. That loneliness, though, had been his choice.

Elijah had never been selfish a day in his life — not even when he let Hayley marry Jackson. I used to think they were destined for each other, but nearly ten years later, I realize I was wrong. Maybe they were right for each other once — but not in the way that lasts. Not like this.

“Now it’s my turn to say ‘no thanks needed.’ I still feel like I’m dreaming, because I’m so happy.” Vandalia sounded happy — but also shy, a little in awe of it all. As I peeked into the kitchen, I saw I was about to interrupt a truly beautiful moment between them.

They were kissing, and to my surprise, I felt my chest flutter. I’ve always been my brother’s biggest fan, and seeing him like this — truly happy — made me feel the same.

We’d had our share of joyful moments since returning to New Orleans — but just as many terrible ones. I think I speak for all of us when I say it’s been a long, hard road to get where we are now. The city was no longer in turmoil. Kol was happily married to Davina. Marcel and I were more in love than ever.

And now Elijah had found someone who made him feel alive again. The very same young woman who’d left Freya and Nik spellbound. Something in my bones told me she was only the beginning of more happiness to come. We weren’t used to peace — but maybe it was time we learned how to keep it now that we'd found it.



I lingered a few moments more before finally stepping into the kitchen. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything.” I expected them to turn toward me — but they were still lost in each other. It was a joyful sight to witness. Only as I neared the counter, where a mountain of pancakes awaited, did they finally break their kiss and look my way.

“Well good morning, love birds,” I said in a rather sing-song voice. “Oh, what a delightful stack of pancakes calling my name,” I mused and picked up a plate of them along with a fork. “Sleep well?” I questioned. “Uh, well, I did. But I don’t think Elijah slept a wink,” Vandalia quietly answered. 

“And why ever not? A gorgeous woman in your arms, how could you not sleep?” I raised a brow at my older brother. “Because my arms weren’t the ones around her,” he replied with a chuckle. I looked at the two of them rather bewildered. “Freya’s fast asleep in her room. Did you change bedrooms, Vandalia?” I was growing more and more curious. 

I noticed a small shake of her head before Niklaus’s voice surprised me from behind. “Little sister. Why feign such surprise that it could have been my arms that she slept in last night?” I didn’t have to glance back at him, I could hear the smirk on his face from his tone of voice. “A proper tangle of a love story, indeed,” I teased but had a little grin on my lips nonetheless.



I may praise Elijah more than anyone — but it wasn’t lost on me that Freya and Nik deserved a love story, too. Their last romances had ended in such disasters. Like Elijah, they’d let loneliness keep them company for far too long.

Nik had been and could be a complete beast but I had always been certain that his soulmate was out there somewhere, waiting for him. I felt the same way about my older sister, Freya. A perfect love, I knew it existed for her. I never imagined that three of my siblings might find that once-in-a-lifetime kind of love with the same woman.

“Don’t let me be a distraction then dears. I’ll surprise Marcel with some breakfast in bed. Compliments to the chef,” I blew Elijah a quick kiss and vanished with my towering stack of pancakes.

As tempting as it was to stay and watch the morning unfold between the dark-haired girl and my brothers, the pull of my own love — and warm bed — was stronger. I vamped back upstairs and found Marcel still on the phone.

“Look, I appreciate y’all handling that for me last night. With our new house guest, I couldn’t exactly run off and deal with it myself,” he said, voice cool and steady. “Oh, it’ll be in the paper, sure — but you know I already talked to the coroner’s office,” he added.

“Nah, like I said last night — I’m fine paying him for his time and help. If he needs more, just let me know. I’ll square up today. I’ll make good on the numbers.” Marcel always had a way of sounding casual — even when cleaning up messes that would terrify most. It was one of the reasons I loved him. And one of the reasons he’d survived this long.

A minute later, he was off the phone. “More of the same from last night?” I asked, crawling into bed with our breakfast. “Yeah, just tying up a few loose ends with Josh,” Marcel replied, setting his phone aside and turning his full attention to me — or rather, to the pancakes. “Elijah’s famous pancakes,” he muttered, practically drooling as he dug in.



“Speaking of Josh and squaring up — you owe him a pay raise,” I said, like I actually ran the Quarter with Marcel. In a fairer world, maybe he would still be King of the Quarter and I his Queen. And I would’ve worn the crown with pride — not for power, but for him. But as it stood, Nik was the King — though he did insist he couldn’t rule without Marcel at his side. His right hand man, if you will.

“You’re not wrong. Second only to Thierry, when it comes to loyalty. Never would’ve guessed that ten years ago,” Marcel said quietly. The mention of Thierry stirred up ghosts. We were vampires — eternal — which meant we remembered everything. And we mourned everything. Over and over again. A never-ending cycle. There was never enough time to grieve, not really. Not in a city that always bled and healed in equal measure.

“It’s been quiet for too long, Marcel,” I mumbled after a few bites of pancake. “I was used to quiet… before you lot came back to town,” he said, giving me the look. I knew it well by now — the 'I had the witches and wolves in a chokehold and we vampires were on top' look. Of course, I met it with a look of my own. He didn’t need to say the rest. That glint in his eye always dared me to challenge him — and I usually did.

“You’re right, though,” Marcel conceded almost instantly. He loved me — and he knew there was no point in arguing when I’d already made up my mind. I was a stubborn Taurus if there ever was one. Add in the fact that I’d been the only daughter of the Mikaelson family, until Freya returned to us, for over a thousand years — I was always right. Being right wasn’t always about pride — it was about survival. I’d learned the difference the hard way.

“I don’t know why there’s been a sudden uptick in volatility. Ever since the Hollow business, this town has practically been as quiet as a mouse,” he went on. Exactly the point I’d been trying to make.

“Now it’s like — all of a sudden — the witches are on edge, secretive as fuck, acting like they did ten years ago. And the wolves — not the Crescents, obviously — but the others? They’re itching for trouble again. Does history always have to repeat itself?”

He might’ve been eating Elijah’s pancakes, but I could still hear the exhaustion in his voice. I didn’t blame him. I didn’t want the Quarter falling into chaos again either. Not after everything we’d clawed our way back from.

“Unfortunately,” I whispered. I was a great deal older than Marcel — and I’d watched history repeat itself. Over, and over, and over again. “If D were here, I’d try to get a few steps ahead of whatever’s coming,” he murmured, reaching for his phone. “Marcel Gerard, don’t you dare.” My voice came out as a growl wrapped in a purr.

“They’ll be here soon enough — this evening, in fact. Don’t drag that poor girl into something before she’s even walked through the door,” I scolded. “I just wish I could make sense of it,” he muttered. “There’s been nothing but whispers — from one end of the grapevine to the other. Nobody knows a damn thing. Or if they do, they’re sure as hell not talking. It’s like the entire supernatural world is… anxious. Restless.”

I could feel the anxiety radiating off him. I knew what haunted him — what he feared might be circling back. Another war between the factions. Another bloodbath in our precious city.

“We’re more prepared than ever, darling,” I said softly. “Stronger than ever. More united.” Marcel nodded, because he knew I was right. That was something even he couldn’t argue — not after what the last bloodbath cost us. Not after the war that began between my lover… and my half-brother.

“That’s another reason I don’t want anything like this starting up again. The last thing I need is for Klaus and me to fall out — not now, not when he’s finally allowed us this.” His voice sent shivers down my spine, and they only deepened when his hand brushed across mine. I didn’t need to ask what he meant. I knew. I’d lived it. Our love had paid the price for my brother’s wrath more times than I could count. Klaus never gave his blessings easily — and never without cost.

“You’re not going to lose me over faction politics, Marcel. Even if Nik tries to wage war on the whole bloody city again — I’m not letting you go this time.” I meant every word — and returned to my pancakes with quiet satisfaction.

For a few minutes, we ate in silence. Just before his last bite, Marcel looked up at me, and I could see it in his eyes — that guarded softness, only ever reserved for me.

“Maybe I’m just making mountains out of molehills. Turning into my father — paranoid and overly cautious. I’m sure things will settle down soon.” I knew Marcel was trying his damnedest to convince me but I wasn’t so sure. Normal had never lasted long for any of us.



“That’s the spirit, darling,” I cooed, leaning in to give him a soft kiss before starting to pull away. “Oh no. No, no,” Marcel purred, tugging me back into him. “You don’t get to kiss me with syrup-sweet lips and walk away that easily, Bekah.”

It was useless trying to pull away from him — and truthfully, I didn’t want to. Especially not when he called me Bekah. I probably didn’t say it out loud nearly enough, but I loved it when he called me that. It sounded like home. Like us.

I set the empty plate aside and melted into Marcel’s arms — falling into one of the sweetest, most unrushed kisses of my life. I wanted to lose myself in him. We had years of lost time to make up for… especially in moments like this. Then, I caught the faintest sound outside our bedroom door. A soft knock — then the door cracked open just a sliver.



“I’m sorry if I’m interrupting,” came my sister’s quiet voice. “Come back in twenty minutes. Twenty minutes is good,” Marcel growled playfully against my lips. His grip tightened — he needed me this morning. And though I wouldn’t say it out loud, I needed him too.

“Absolutely not,” I muttered, kissing him once more for good measure before pulling away completely. “I really am sorry,” Freya murmured as I stood up from the bed. “Don’t be. We just finished breakfast and got… a little sidetracked.” I crossed to the dresser, grabbed a pair of boxers, and tossed them at Marcel. He caught them effortlessly.

“I just wanted to let you know that Nik and Elijah have left for the faction meeting — and Vandalia’s in the shower. I still need to get dressed myself,” Freya admitted. That much was obvious. I doubted she planned to go shopping in the pretty green nightgown she was wearing — although, if she did, I’d make damn sure no one had a word to say about it. I’m sure Vandalia wouldn’t complain either.

“If the three of you ever went shopping in pajamas, I’d make sure the Quarter knew it was a holiday — parade and all,” Marcel teased. Freya’s cheeks turned the softest shade of pink. “You flatter me,” she murmured. I could tell she meant it — and that his words embarrassed her.

Freya never saw herself as the radiant thing she was. But she was a Mikaelson. Of course she was beautiful. A powerful, luminous, yet impossibly gentle Mikaelson gemstone. Maybe that’s why people trusted her with the fragile things — spells, secrets, hearts.

I stole her away toward my closet. “You can help me pick an outfit first,” I offered, already eyeing my options. “I might’ve heard a bit of your conversation before I knocked,” Freya admitted as she began sifting through the clothes on my rack.

“I had to apologize to Nik this morning — I’ve been feeding his paranoia for months now. But last night? I slept like a baby, Becks. Vandalia was absolutely the thing I sensed coming. Now that she’s here… I’ve never felt peace like this, sister.”

I reached for a pale pink dress and slid it from its hanger, holding it up to my frame. “What do you think? Perfect for a spring day in the Quarter?” Freya’s face softened; her hazel eyes warmed. “It’ll be beautiful on you. As always, Rebekah.”

“You’re not the only one feeling peaceful, darling sister,” I mumbled after a moment, weighing my shoe options. I started slipping out of my pajamas, still thinking on it. “Marcel and I both slept like babies last night — and we didn’t even get the jolt you and Nik felt. I can’t imagine how well you slept. Or Nik. Poor Elijah, not sleeping a wink.” I let out a little laugh. I couldn’t help it.

I was honestly surprised Elijah hadn’t curled up with Vandalia and slept more peacefully than he ever had — but I understood how high on life he must’ve been. I remembered how it felt after we defeated the Hollow. For the first time since returning to New Orleans, life actually felt good. Marcel and I went days without sleep. Like I said before, we had a lot of catching up to do — and even more lost time to make up for.

When it came to my beast of a half-brother, though, it did surprise me — him sleeping so peacefully with Vandalia in his arms. Maybe even more surprising was that she had slept so comfortably in his. It’s not that Nik had been completely miserable before the little witch came along. Actually, he’d been the happiest I’d seen him in years. But Nik and Elijah shared one trait above all: they were brooders. Ever since Cami left New Orleans, Nik had run on two things — brooding and bloodlust.

I wasn’t unfamiliar with my half-brother showing love and kindness to a woman — it just always managed to surprise me when it actually happened. Perhaps I should put it differently: it was more surprising when the love and kindness were wanted from him… and genuinely returned. I’d watched Niklaus love the wrong women for a thousand years. Elijah too, if I’m being honest. 

At least Elijah, in my opinion, deserved to love — and to be loved with equal intensity. There were times the old me believed Niklaus didn’t deserve a damn thing. Especially not love and kindness from a beautiful, charming young lady. But every day, the old me faded just a little more. I tried my best not to harbor that old hatred anymore. The past is in the past, as they say.

“I think I might’ve been the same way,” Freya whispered. “If she were in my bed, in my arms.” Her voice had gone almost dreamy. “I might’ve stayed awake all night just to watch her sleep.” The strangest part? A piece of me wanted to agree — wholeheartedly.

I’ve met a lot of people in my thousand-plus years, but this young witch from the middle of nowhere? She was the most captivating woman I’d ever encountered. Vandalia had a pull about her — like the eye of a hurricane you didn’t mind being lost in.

“There is something strange going on, though,” I murmured at last, not really caring if Marcel overheard. Freya was family — it wasn’t like I was speaking to an outsider. “The situation last night, the one Marcel had his men handle —” before I could finish, Freya nodded like she already knew.

“Vandalia read the front page of the newspaper. I tried not to tell her much, not like we really know a whole lot anyway. I felt it wasn’t my place, and if Elijah wanted her to know, he’d have told her. I-I didn’t want her to get the wrong impression of New Orleans and the Quarter.” 

“Marcel and I were talking about how quiet it’s been for so long — ever since we defeated the Hollow. Now, all of a sudden, he mentioned the witches seem secretive again, maybe even conniving, and the wolves — not the Crescents — sound like they’re itching for a fight. I’m afraid, Freya. I’m afraid something could be coming.” I hadn’t wanted to say it out loud. Saying it made it feel too possible. Too real.



I slipped into my soft pink dress and made my way to my vanity, hoping makeup and a little hair-taming might settle the unease building in my chest. “I hope you’re not suggesting that Vandalia—” Freya began, but I shook my head before she could finish.

“Sparks may not have flown between her and me, but you three aren’t the only ones who feel something for her. It’s strange to describe… but it’s not unlike when I first met you, Freya. Even before I knew you were my sister, I was drawn to you — inexplicably.”

“I understand,” Freya said softly as she took the hairbrush from my hands and began brushing my hair for me. It was in quiet, gentle moments like this that I felt the weight of all the years she wasn’t with us. All the years we thought she was dead. The time we’ll never get back. 

It was unfair, Freya’s life and what she’d had to endure with our wicked Aunt Dahlia. It was unfair that we’d mourned our eldest sibling for a thousand years. It was unfair that I grew up as an only daughter, spoiled to pieces by my four older brothers. I had always longed for a sister while swimming in a sea of testosterone. 



In my early youth, I had a special bond with Niklaus, though he turned out to only be my half-brother. After we’d become immortals, it was Elijah that I grew closer to. While human, there had been a softness — a delicacy even, to Nik that somewhere in the depths of my heart had sated the craving for a sister. 

It was the same with Elijah after we were vampires. Elijah became a shoulder to cry on and a voice of reason, always giving me sage advice and never judging. No, Nik nor Elijah could ever replace the sister we had lost without ever knowing, but I mourned Freya less because of them. 



When the truth had come to light several months after our return to New Orleans, that crippling grief returned. A deep ache and now a different kind of mourning. I didn’t mourn Freya because she was dead — I mourned the relationship we could have had for a thousand years. If Dahlia hadn’t taken Freya, she would have undoubtedly been made into an immortal like us. 

I often dreamed of what I thought she looked like even after I was a vampire. In fact, the dreams got stronger once we returned to New Orleans and now I understood why — because Freya had found us here in 1914. Her body was at rest in this city without our knowledge for a hundred years. 



Sometimes, the dreams would be past memories with Elijah, where he’d steady my hand and keep me from falling off the edge — but it was Freya in his place. Horseback riding in the countryside and instead of it being Nik that I was with, it would be Freya. Even memories of Mystic Falls — instead of bantering with Kol before he died the first time, it was Freya play-fighting with me. 

I don’t think anything has ever touched me more in a millennium than when Freya admitted that she dreamed of us, too, without ever knowing us. Though she’d met us one time, technically, a hundred years prior — she’d said that was how she knew me, Finn, and Kol when she’d first awakened. Though we weren’t in our own bodies — instead, mother had placed us into bodies of witches. Freya recognized our souls.

“I fear you might be right, little sister. Maybe Vandalia’s presence has thrown off my— for lack of a better word— witchy radar. That, or…” But Freya couldn’t finish. Whatever it was, she knew it needed to be said — and still, it caught in her throat.

“Vandalia is a bright and beautiful young woman — who’s only just discovered she’s a witch,” I said, my voice soft as I looked at Freya through the mirror. I could see it in her face — brushing my hair had suddenly become more difficult. Still, she managed to finish and set the brush down gently. “Two things can be true at once, Freya,” I murmured. “She’s goodness personified… but her arrival in New Orleans might not be a coincidence.” 

I’d come to the same conclusion my sister had — the one she was too afraid to even whisper aloud. “I’ll have to talk with Vincent. And with Davina, once she’s home this evening. Vandalia is powerful, Rebekah. She may not have known she was a witch until less than twelve hours ago, but the moment our hands touched — I could feel it. That power. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever felt.”

My face must have given me away. I didn’t have to say aloud, and your point is? Somehow, Freya just knew — that’s exactly what I’d wanted to argue. In my eyes, Freya was the most powerful witch the world had seen since our mother died. Davina — powerful as she had been, especially before the Harvest was completed — couldn’t hold a candle to her. Even Vincent, the current Regent, couldn’t compare to a firstborn Mikaelson witch.

That was a fight I’d always wanted to have — with Vincent, and with the so-called Ancestors. Freya was old enough to be one of them. If anyone should be Regent over their Nine Covens, it was her. But no — my sister was continually overlooked in favor of, what was the term? Native New Orleans witches. The Ancestors looked down upon all of us Mikaelson's whether we were Original vampires, the Original hybrid, or simply a firstborn Mikaelson witch like Freya. They hated us all.

“Let me put it this way, dearest little sister.” Freya’s voice was steady. “If Vandalia LaRue had come into our lives years ago, the threats we faced back then… wouldn’t have been threats at all.” As I stood, I turned toward Freya and looked her directly in the eyes. Serious words, coming from her. And not ones she would say lightly.

We’d faced a lot of evil in the last decade. And to hear Freya say those threats would’ve been child’s play if Vandalia had been here? That was more than concerning. It was sobering. “However powerful she may be… she’s on our side, Becks. That much I know for certain,” Freya whispered.

Freya didn’t have to say it — I knew it, too. It was something I felt deep in my being — my soul. I couldn’t explain it, and I didn’t fully understand it. But it was true. And I knew it without a single doubt.



“I trust your judgment. I know the others do, too.” I reached out and wrapped my arms around Freya, giving her a firm, reassuring hug. No matter what rumblings were stirring in the supernatural community, I wasn’t about to lay them all at the feet of young Vandalia LaRue. Right now, she was just a girl discovering her heritage — and, more importantly, the soulmate of three of my siblings. That meant everything to me.

“Enough with the heavy, darling. Let’s get you dressed for this special outing,” I practically cooed, pulling away from Freya and linking our arms as I led her out of the closet. When we returned to the main part of the bedroom, Marcel was already dressed for the day.

“Pink certainly is your color, babe,” he murmured. Naturally, I gave a little twirl in my dress for him. “You say that about every color I wear. But this time you’re right — and I love you all the more for it.”



I kissed his cheek, then his lips — quick and sweet — before pulling back and heading for the door. “I’m going to help Freya get ready. We’ll meet you downstairs shortly.”

Without another word, Freya and I disappeared down the long hallway and into her enchanting bedroom. If you didn’t already know my sister was a witch, one look around her space would tell you everything you needed to know.

“I thought about this outfit for today,” Freya said quietly, holding it up. “I know it’s not much different from last night, but it’s a little cuter… and I’ll be comfortable. I’ll be myself.” I could tell that being herself mattered deeply to her. It wasn’t just about clothes — it was about feeling steady, grounded. Safe.

“You do wear a lot of green, Freya — and always this style.” I smiled as I took the green satin blouse from her and held it up against her frame. “I should probably give you a stern talking-to about fashion dos and don’ts, but since you said you want to be yourself — well, this is definitely you.” I gave a light laugh as I adjusted the blouse against her. “We do love our silks and satins, don’t we? It’s the perfect color for spring — and it’ll look lovely beside my pink dress.” I paused, lips quirking. “I just hope we don’t end up looking like a pair of Easter eggs next to Vandalia.”

“I hope we don’t look too colorful beside Vandalia,” Freya admitted. “I noticed she was eyeing a black top to go with her jeans before she got in the shower. Most of her wardrobe seems to be black.” Vandalia had worn a rather cute black top just last night, and honestly? The color suited her. It added a touch of mystery — and if I’m being honest, it made her all the more captivating. 

There’s an old saying: no one wants to kiss a woman in black. But I think Vandalia LaRue might be the exception. Elijah, Nik, and Freya certainly didn’t seem to mind. I wouldn't say it aloud but, I knew I wouldn't mind kissing her in black. Best to keep that to myself for now.

“We’ll absolutely fix that today. With Vandalia’s complexion, that dark hair, and those stunning green eyes — I promise you, Freya, I’ll find her some gorgeous outfits no matter where we go. She’ll consider me her personal stylist by the time we’re done.” I realized I was practically giddy. I wasn’t even trying to hide it anymore, and Freya clearly picked up on it.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you this excited about anything since maybe Christmas,” Freya said quietly, changing into the outfit she’d picked out. “There’s a lot to be excited about today, isn’t there?” I replied, catching my reflection in her mirror. She wasn’t wrong — I looked like I was glowing.

“Love tangle or not, you, Elijah, and Nik have found a gorgeous young lady to dote on — and who seems to enjoy doting on you in return.” I gave a light shrug. “We’re going shopping — and what woman doesn’t love a good spree? Plus, Kol and Davina should be home by this evening. It’s Easter weekend, and you know how I feel about a proper get-together.” Truth be told, I’d only scratched the surface of what we had to be excited about.



“I-I know I might not show it,” Freya whispered, gazing into the mirror, “but I’m just as excited on the inside, Becks. Maybe even more.” Just as she had worked on my hair minutes ago, I returned the favor now. “I don’t know if I’ve ever felt like this before,” she admitted. “Keelin was… a first-love kind of crush. But this? This feels real. It feels true already.”

“I can tell Elijah and Nik share your feelings,” I murmured, brushing Freya’s hair and helping her style it just the way she liked. “Y-you do know our brothers better than I do,” Freya mumbled, her cheeks tinged pink. “That’s the understatement of the century, darling,” I laughed.

“Don’t get me wrong — both of them have been love-sick puppy dogs before. If Hayley hadn’t married Jackson, Elijah might have found forever with her. And Cami…” I sighed. “If Aurora hadn't done to her what she did, she might’ve been Nik’s greatest love.”



“Each of them was a chapter — maybe even a novella,” Freya said as she began applying her makeup. “But I don’t think they’d rewrite their stories. Not even for a happier ending.” I nodded at Freya's philosophical words.

“You’re right. And I’m glad you wouldn’t, either.” I leaned against the doorframe, smiling. “Still, I think your happily ever after is just a few bedrooms over. Shame you’ve got to share her with our brothers.”

“I don’t mind sharing, not really,” Freya said with a lightness I didn’t expect. “I couldn’t ask for better people to share with.” But something flickered in her eyes then — a look I recognized. Something I’d noticed years ago, between her and our brothers. Something I’d never dared speak of. Not to her. And certainly not to Elijah or Nik.

“Well, you’ve got me there,” I said softly, watching Freya gather her things. “Not that Nik hasn’t tried to kill you once or twice,” I added with a smirk, heading for the door. “But you bring out a gentleness in him I’ve never quite understood.” Once, a long time ago — when we were human — I used to. I was the baby sister. I’d brought out something softer in him. But I’d stabbed him in the back one too many times since then.

“We’re both outcasts, in a way,” Freya said as she followed behind me. “We understand each other. Nik’s always felt singled out — hated for being different. And me? I was supposed to be dead. You all knew about me, but once I came back, everything shifted. I wasn’t always welcomed. For a while, I felt hated too.” Her voice was steady but low. “When Nik finally let me in, treated me like family… that’s when I finally felt like I belonged.”



“I accepted you from the very first moment,” I reminded her as we descended the stairs into the courtyard. “You did. Elijah followed not long after. Nik… he was a tougher nut to crack,” Freya said with a small laugh. She wasn’t wrong. No one’s walls were more impenetrable than my darling half-brother’s. That’s why his initial reaction to Vandalia hadn’t surprised me — but the speed with which he came around? That had.

“Don’t you ladies look spectacular,” Marcel called from the courtyard below as we reached the bottom of the stairs. “Are you sure you’re only going shopping?” he added, clearly amused. I rolled my eyes playfully and wound my arms around his neck. “Oh, I’m sure we’ll squeeze in a few other things. Vandalia mentioned being a coffee addict, so the Café is non-negotiable.”



“Elijah said she’s dying to try beignets,” Freya added, settling onto a bench. Marcel and I joined her a moment later. “Alright, alright — playing tourist and tour guide today, huh?” He asked with a grin. “Of course. Elijah said this is her dream city — especially the French Quarter. We’ll walk her through Jackson Square, head to the Café, and then it’s straight to the finest boutiques.”



“Speak of the devil,” Marcel murmured, nudging me gently. I turned toward the staircase — and there she was. Vandalia. I saw the way Freya’s breath caught. The way the whole world seemed to still around her. All that existed in that moment was the pale-skinned, dark-haired woman approaching us.



Enchantress. That was the word echoing through my mind. Enchantress.

(6,647 words – roughly 29 pages.)

Notes:

Another new point of view for Chapter 14! This one was probably all too easy to guess with how I left Chapter 13 off, huh? I've written and tried my best to perfect this chapter over the last week. Totally brand new chapter to the story and y'all are reading this one first. My best friend's haven't even read this one, yet lol.

The photos for this chapter are a mixture of Grok and GPT. Grok has severely declined its output quality since Jan/Feb/Mar when I was heavily making photos for my story. I'm hoping it comes back up in quality really soon. Either way, I'm content with this amount of photos and the way they turned out. I'm very content in how this chapter turned out. I enjoyed Rebekah's Point of View and might try harder in future to write from it again.

This chapter has me wanting to dabble from several different points of view now, straying away from just always writing in Vandalia's, Elijah's, Klaus's, or Freya's point of view. We'll see what the future holds, huh? Because of this new chapter, that major *crossover* will now be happening in the NEXT chapter. So if you're here as a ASOIAF/GoT/HoTD fan - next chapter, I promise! :)

Our word count (according to AO3) is at 87,156. As of today (update day) I'm at 2,239 reads/views. 21 kudos. 19 subscribers. 27 bookmarks. Thank you all SO much for being here and following along in the journey.

Life update - I'm STILL sick with this crud which we're beginning to think is Flu strain A. (ugh.) It seems a lot of others are beginning to come down with it, a lot of my friends (nope, haven't been around them - so they're picking it up the same way we did. Grocery shopping, etc.) I really don't want to be sick all summer long. This is already 20 some-odd days with this ick. Praying it goes away this week.

As always, I'll leave y'all with my Spotify Playlist for this story. It's public, so anyone can listen to it. :)
https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5vxkLYvWEGgrkWbLFdN42h

I advertise for my story on Tumblr & IG - Tumblr is 'borntobeamikaelson' and IG is 'CemeteryGirlx.' Feel free to follow!

Chapter 15: Vandalia's Point of View

Summary:

“Magic doesn’t come from power. It comes from memory.”

Chapter Fifteen:

Fire and Blood: A Family Motto or Something More?

I found my way back to the grand bathroom Freya had shown me for the first time last night. Once inside, I quietly shut the door behind me. I laid my clothes neatly on a shelf near the shower, then opened a cupboard, pulled out a few towels, and placed them alongside my clothes. I was grateful Freya had pointed out this cupboard last night or I’d have been completely lost. 

Sliding a glass door open, I turned on the water for it to warm while I began stripping out of my clothing. Once the water was a decent temperature, I stepped into the spacious shower while sliding the glass door shut behind me. 



I was alone for the first real time in this sprawling estate, and the silence settled over me like a whisper — eerie, yet oddly comforting. A part of me was grateful for the time alone — a chance to reflect on everything that had happened in the twelve whirlwind hours since I’d arrived. But the other part of me ached — ached for their presence, especially Elijah’s. The stillness of the house only made their absence louder.

As the shower water felt like warm rain on my naked body, I let it wash over me like a summer storm, gentle but stirring something deep inside me. I closed my eyes and let my thoughts drift to the last sixty or so hours since meeting Elijah. I couldn’t believe it had only been that short of a length of time. 



My mind drifted back to just after midnight on Wednesday, April 5th — to him appearing on the dock in my moment of despair. My moment of need. The way we sat together in Audubon Mill Park and then walked to Central Park. Our first time at the fountain. Our first time in the gazebo. I could still feel the night air on my skin, hear the chirping of crickets, and see the way he looked at me like I was already his.

I thought about how I felt during our first kiss, and the sadness that washed over me when I had to drive away from Elijah that first time. The ache I felt crawling into bed that night — only soothed by texting with him and rereading what he’d written on Facebook.

And then that Wednesday evening, meeting him in the cemetery and our kisses beneath the pink magnolia tree. The petals were falling like snow, and with each kiss, I felt my old fears melt away — just a little. Introducing Elijah to my favorite restaurant — and to my favorite waitress, who also happened to be a dear friend. Then what transpired between us in Audubon Mill Park that evening. 

There was a very, very small part of me that had been afraid of Elijah. That was the logical part of me. But these feelings, they were outweighing every ounce of logic inside of me — like a million to one. I thought about the way it felt when he first bit me — and it made me want to touch myself, right here, under the rush of water.

My nipples hardened as I recalled the way I’d felt during that first bite — and every bite since. I could feel the heat pulsing low in my belly, undeniable and deep. I thought about our second walk through Central Park — so similar, yet so different from the night before.

But those same feelings — the sadness and the fear as he placed me in the car and watched me drive away — came flooding back. I could barely sleep that night for several reasons. It was mostly excitement — but there was also that lingering fear of abandonment, curling around my heart like smoke.

When Elijah appeared in my driveway that Thursday afternoon, my heart practically leapt out of my chest. He was real. This trip to New Orleans — it was really happening. Elijah hadn’t abandoned me after all. He’d done the opposite — he’d shown up. He’d committed.

I thought about the drive down here — the new memories we made. Dinner at Reelfoot Lake. The pit stops in Memphis. The things we passed as we crossed into Louisiana, all adding color to the journey. Then I remembered the fear — the nervousness — standing outside these walls just twelve hours ago.

The first time I looked into Niklaus Mikaelson’s eyes, my knees nearly gave out. I wanted to believe it was because of the dream — but I knew better. It wasn’t the dream. It was something deeper. Something real.

I thought about the first time Klaus and I touched — the way it hummed through my skin. And later, laying in bed with all three of them… like four puzzle pieces finally falling into place. And finally, the privilege of falling asleep nearly naked, nestled between Elijah and Klaus.

Watching the sunrise with Elijah this morning, then being pinned against the French doors by Klaus — both moments leaving me breathless in completely different ways. And after they left for their meeting — the sweet, searching kisses I’d exchanged with Freya. My heart pounded just remembering — every conversation, every glance, every lingering kiss.

The way Elijah said goodbye… and how Klaus held me close before walking out the door. I whimpered aloud, overwhelmed by the need for them. Tears sprang to my eyes without warning. It wasn’t a slight to Freya — I was deeply drawn to her. Captivated, even. Aside from my feelings for Dadie, I’d never been this drawn to another woman. I hadn’t lied to Freya — I could see myself falling for her. Actually, I was already slipping.

But I couldn’t deny that the magnetism I felt toward Elijah was stronger than what I felt for Freya — and stronger still was what I felt for Niklaus. For a moment, it felt like my skin was burning — the craving for their touch so intense it ached. A dull pain bloomed behind my eyes, and nausea curled in my stomach.

I slowly opened my eyes, trying to steady my breath as I took in my surroundings. The water, still warm against my skin, helped anchor me. I was thankful for that. The last thing I needed was to pass out in the shower and cause a Mikaelson-wide emergency.

But before the panic could fully fade, my insecurities crept back in. Elijah would be seeing Hayley today — or so I assumed. I knew I shouldn’t be jealous or afraid, but I was. Klaus, Elijah, and Freya had done their best to calm my insecurities but I still worried. 

What if Hayley realized she still loved Elijah more than her husband? What if she wanted him back? What if Elijah decided he was done with fragile, powerless humans? What if he wanted a wolf again — someone fierce, beautiful, and born to fight? All these what ifs were going to be the death of me if I allowed them to continue.

I shook my head. I knew these thoughts were foolish — textbook self-sabotage, if I was being brutally honest. I knew it was. I refused to let my fears steal the day. I was going to enjoy this time with Freya and Rebekah — I owed myself that much.

Once the panic subsided and my insecurities quieted, I finally made myself start washing. About fifteen minutes later, I was done. I’d steamed the place up like a sauna and silently hoped no one would be mad about it. It took a while to dry off, but getting dressed was easy — I slipped into the outfit Freya had helped me pick for the day.

I brushed my teeth, combed through my hair, then padded down the corridor back to my bedroom. I closed the door behind me and sat at the desk, pulling the mirror closer. With quiet determination, I began styling my hair and applying makeup — piece by piece, rebuilding the version of me I wanted to show the world.



Once I felt sufficiently beautified for the day, I finally left my bedroom and made my way downstairs. I found Freya, Rebekah, and Marcel chatting together in the courtyard. I could tell they’d been waiting on me. I wanted to apologize, but the words wouldn't come out fast enough.

“Damn, girl,” Marcel said, eyeing me as I came down the stairs — and thankfully, Rebekah didn’t seem the least bit offended. “You’ve dressed to kill today,” Rebekah added with a laugh. I caught the look in Freya’s eyes — the way she couldn’t stop staring at me.



“Will this do?” I asked, and she rose slowly from the bench, her eyes locked on me as she stepped closer. “You got this dressed up for me?” Freya asked, and I felt heat bloom in my cheeks. “Well, you’re a third of the reason,” I murmured, and Rebekah burst out laughing.

“This little four-way relationship,” Rebekah said, shaking her head, “is going to take some getting used to.” Marcel had started to shake his head, seeming amused. “I give it a week before Elijah’s in a coffin and Freya’s packed up in a box headed for Timbuktu,” Marcel mused, chuckling.

“What do you mean?” I asked, glancing from Freya to the undeniably handsome vampire standing beside Rebekah. “Ah, you don’t know the family history yet,” he said with a low chuckle. “That’s what Klaus does — if he wants something, no one else gets to have it. He’s possessive. A control freak on steroids.” Marcel didn’t stop smiling as he spoke, clearly amused.



“You see this between Rebekah and me?” Marcel asked, gesturing between the two of them. “It wasn’t always this easy.” For a moment, I wondered what their relationship had to do with Klaus. Sure, I knew Rebekah was the youngest of the Mikaelson siblings but, why did it seem Klaus had dictated her and Marcel's relationship?

“My brothers — especially Klaus — have always been a bit overprotective of their dear little sister,” Rebekah said, her voice both proud and tired. When she said that — it started to make sense why Marcel had brought the topic of their relationship up. 

“When Klaus found Marcel as a young boy, he became the shiny new toy — the son my brother could never have. Marcel was just a lost human kid back then. But as he grew up...” Her voice trailed off, and Marcel picked up from there.

“As I grew up, I started wanting the things any man would want. I might’ve been just a kid when I first saw Rebekah, but she stole my breath — even then. By the time I was a man, I knew I loved her. And even though Klaus raised me, I still wasn’t good enough. I didn’t deserve her love, and Klaus made damn sure I knew that. He gave me impossible choice after impossible choice.” Marcel’s voice began disappearing now. 

“I woke up fifty-two years later to find Marcel a vampire. Klaus had given him an absurd choice — stay human and love me until his death, or take immortality and never see me again.” I could hear the pain in Rebekah’s voice as she told me the worst about her older half-brother. 



“B-but you’re together now,” I whispered, placing a hand over my chest. It felt like my heart was cracking open. “Like I said, it wasn’t always this easy. If Elijah were here, he’d probably chime in and say Klaus isn’t the same man he used to be," Marcel stated.

“And he’d be right,” Freya said, finally breaking her silence. “Maybe that has something to do with me, I don’t know. But the vindictive Klaus they knew centuries ago? I haven’t seen that side of him — not since I’ve been in the picture. At least, not to the extent that they did. We’ve had our fights, don’t get me wrong,” Freya added at the end. 

“Freya’s right. My brother is different in a lot of ways. But throw a beautiful young witch he deeply desires into the mix, and… well, things could turn quickly,” Rebekah warned. I knew she meant it in good faith, but the words still stung.

I told Klaus last night he’d never be a monster in my eyes — yet right now, it felt like they were trying to make me see one. I wasn’t stupid or naïve. I knew Klaus could be a monster. I bet all the Mikaelsons could be. But did that make him one? I didn’t think so.

I sank onto one of the benches in the courtyard, too overwhelmed to keep standing. I looked up to Freya and she could see that tears were starting to threaten my eyes. “Hey, hey. It’s okay,” Freya said quickly, kneeling in front of me and taking my hands — just like she had earlier in my room.



“Vandalia, I’m sure neither my sister nor Marcel meant to upset you.” She shot them a look before turning back to me. “You deserve to know everyone’s history. You’ve heard a lot of Elijah’s and Klaus’s from them personally. So they only want to speak openly with you the same as they have, the same as I have. They’re not telling you to tuck your tail and run. And they’re certainly not telling you not to love him… or Elijah… or me,” Freya murmured. I could hear the worry behind her words.

“My brother deserves happiness and if you make him happy, I’d never stand in the way of that,” said Rebekah and I noticed Marcel nodding his head in agreement with her. “Each of us has had a love-hate relationship with Klaus over the years. If you can make him happy, keep him happy, and somehow make him a better man — hell, consider me your biggest cheerleader,” Marcel said with a dry chuckle.

“I’m not easily swayed out of my feelings for someone — trust me. But it still hurts to hear all of this,” I whispered, reaching out to tuck a strand of Freya’s dark blond hair behind her ear. “E-Elijah warned me about Klaus before I ever came down here… but that didn’t stop the dream. Or everything that happened after I arrived.” I was rambling now — out of fear, out of hurt. I hadn’t even fully registered what I’d said. 

“The dream?” Freya asked, and dread dropped into my stomach like a stone. I hadn’t meant to say that — not to anyone. Even after everything that had happened in the last twelve hours, part of me still felt ashamed of that dream. And I didn’t even know why.

“It was the night before — my last night at home. I was texting Elijah, of course, until I finally drifted off. I’ve always been a dreamer. A vivid one. But this one dream, it felt so real. It was like a past memory but it couldn’t have been. Because I’ve never met any of you until late last night.” 

Even Marcel and Rebekah had come closer, interested in knowing what I’d dreamed about. “I was in a large dining room, and I was being sat down to what seemed like a grand meal. I don’t know what the occasion was but it was a feast, nonetheless. Elijah was seated directly across from me, and of course Elijah’s was the only face I knew properly. The other faces I only recognized from Facebook. Then I realized I was holding the hand of someone seated to my right. It took a moment to focus — but when I did...” 

I reached out and took Freya’s left hand in mine, biting my lower lip before I could go on. “It was this hand… even your bracelets were in my dream. How could I have known what they looked like? I swear I hadn’t seen them in a picture on Facebook or anything. If I did, I certainly didn’t pay any attention to them. Not enough to memorize them.” 

The look on Freya’s face — and even Rebekah’s and Marcel’s — almost made me want to stop talking. To keep the rest of the dream to myself. But they’d heard this much, so I knew I needed to get the rest of it out. I didn’t like keeping things a secret, it always felt like telling lies in a way. 

“Then I focused on Elijah again and realized, since he was already seated — he couldn’t be the one scooting my chair in for me. So I tilted my head up and I met those icy blue eyes. Then he leaned in — and kissed me. The softest, most delicate kiss. That’s when I woke up. I’d startled myself awake… with the thought of kissing another man. Elijah’s brother, no less.” 

“V-Vandalia…” Freya’s voice wavered as she looked down at our joined hands. That faint green aura from earlier had returned. “How many times has this happened to you?” Freya asked quietly. “Dreaming something… and then having it come true? Do you experience déjà vu a lot?”

It was a lot of questions that Freya had fired my way. I didn’t have to think long on them, though. No, I knew the answers immediately. “W-Well… if I’m being honest? Quite a fucking lot,” I finally choked out.



Freya’s eyes widened a bit as she turned her head back towards Rebekah and Marcel, and then slowly returned her gaze towards me. “She’s a Clairvoyant,” stated Marcel. I knew what that meant — of course I did. But me? A Clairvoyant? That couldn’t be right… could it?

“My Mom,” I barely mumbled. “My Mom has the same gift. We’ve always felt like we had a psychic gift but I never thought it was real. I guess I believed too much in coincidences,” I admitted. It was true. I did believe in coincidences and Godwinks. 

“Coincidences? Those are rare — they don’t show up every time you turn around,” Marcel said. “But this? This sounds like something deeper. Trust me.”

“So you all think I’m psychic?” I asked and Freya rolled her shoulders just slightly. “They aren’t exactly the same thing. If your Mom has this gift as well, your magic is definitely matrilineal. She’s a witch, too, or at the very least she has clairvoyance. But you? Magic didn’t skip a generation with you.” Freya explained, opening my palm out once more. 

Without speaking a word, a soft crackle sparked in my palm — and a purple flame bloomed to life. I stared into it, willing it to stay, to grow. I let my mind drift to everything I’d endured to get to this moment.

I pictured the one creature that had always lived inside me — the animal that felt like my truest self. Not just a symbol, but a part of me I’d always known was there… waiting. Locked deep inside until the day I’d allow it to be free.

 

The fire began to swell, flickering with intensity, and I watched with wide-eyed wonder as it started to shape itself — not randomly, but with intention. I started to recite something that I’d written just a few months ago. I honestly amazed myself at the fact I could remember it word for word. That’s how passionately I’d felt when I composed it. 

“Hellfire burned deeply within me and it was begging to be released. I had been tame for far too long. I yearned to be wild and free. The fire needed me to live life and to love as intensely as it burned inside of me. 

Too long had I been stuck inside a shell of the person I was meant to be. Too long had I been 'existing' and not truly 'living.' It was as if I was an automaton stuck on auto-pilot. Pain will do that to a person. 

Hell will do that to a person. But like all who suffer hell long enough — we eventually learn to love the flame, make friends with the pain, and we ride out of our hell on the most ferocious of dragons. 

Like a Phoenix emerging from the ashes of rebirth — I was set aflame, spreading my wings, and ready to take flight. It was a new dawn and a new era. It was the first page, of the first chapter, of a brand new book of life. 

This was my time to blaze and it was my time to soar high. I'd be damned if another soul alive would ever dare try to write the story of me ever again. It's been MY struggle, it's been MY story, and it's MY life.” 



The final word left my lips like an offering — and then, the fire exploded upward, bursting into a radiant form that took to the skies. As it flew ever higher, it was making the most beautiful sounds. I knew what it was. I could feel the warmth, and I could feel the protection.

It was a Phoenix — majestic, radiant, soaring in all its glory. I could feel it, deep within me… this wasn’t just a creature. It was me. I had brought this into being.

This radiant mostly purple-colored mythological creature — cloaked in fiery red feathers, wrapped in a glowing violet aura — circled the courtyard like it had waited lifetimes for this moment. The Phoenix looked like it was basking in its newfound freedom. Its size was simply indescribable, as was its beauty.

Then, with a sudden shift, it dove — wings tucked in, eyes locked on the flame still cradled in my hand. At first, a wave of fright came over me while this enormous creature was flying straight for me. But as quickly as the fears came, they vanished. As it neared, it shrank in a shimmer of light — graceful, delicate, divine — and perched gently atop the flame in my palm like it had always belonged there.



As it came to rest on the purple ball of flame, I let my eyes slowly take in my surroundings once more. Only then did I notice — every eye was locked on me. On us. Freya, Rebekah, Marcel… they weren’t just watching. They were in awe. Maybe even more than I was.

“That… that was the most awe-inspiring thing I’ve ever seen,” Marcel finally broke the silence, his voice softer than I’d ever heard it. “You’re more powerful than you know, Vandalia,” Freya murmured, taking slow, careful steps forward — deliberate, but cautious.

The Phoenix turned its glowing eyes toward Freya, and its flames flared brighter — not aggressive, but alert. I noticed the tenseness of the celestial creature. Slowly, I reached out with trembling fingers, brushing against the bird’s blazing feathers — warm, but not scalding. It felt like touching sunlight without pain. I decided to try speaking to it, to see if I could calm it down. 

"We can trust her. We're in love," I murmured to the creature. Those simple words seemed to make the celestial creature relax and Freya continued to take a few steps closer. “What language was that?” Freya asked, eyes narrowed in fascinated disbelief. I couldn’t understand why. 

“English?” I answered, confused. “I mean, I’ve dabbled in a few languages — German, Norwegian, maybe a little Japanese and Spanish — but nothing serious.” Freya shook her head at once. “This was unlike anything I’ve ever heard before. I’m not even sure if it’s a known language.” 

“H-how can I speak another language, and not even know it?” I mumbled and looked from Freya back down to the Phoenix in my hand. “Can you speak?" I questioned the firebird.

"Yes, I can speak, my Queen." The voice echoed in my mind more than my ears — lyrical, serene, and ancient. It was like hearing music that had always existed, just waiting to be remembered. To hear a Phoenix speak, it sounded so out of this world. Of course it wasn't of this world — this beautiful creature, this Phoenix, they were a creature of myths and legends, weren't they?

“See? You heard that — it spoke in English,” I said quickly, but the others were already shaking their heads. “No,” Rebekah said softly, but firmly. “It’s most definitely not English. Whatever that was… it wasn’t anything I’ve heard before.” I wore the most confused look on my face, I was certain of that. 

"What language do you speak?" I asked the mythical creature in the palm of my hand. “The tongue of your bloodline,” it answered, voice flickering like flame itself. My bloodline? "But what language is that?" I urged. "High Valyrian."

I blinked a few times. High Valyrian . Where in the world were my ancestors even from? As a genealogist, it stunned me to even ask that. I’d spent twenty-three years mapping every branch of my family tree — there was no way I didn’t know it by heart.

I looked from the Phoenix to everyone else and it was as if they were waiting with bated breath to know what it had said. “It says I’m speaking High Valyrian,” I said slowly. “But… I don’t know High Valyrian. I don’t even know what Valyrian is.”



“I’ve heard old legends of a place called Valyria,” said Freya with a look of pure amazement on her face. “Back in the village with Dahlia, it was only ever whispered about — something the elders spoke of with fear or awe, like they weren’t sure if they believed it themselves. I always thought it was a myth. I feel like even the elders believed it wasn’t real. There was never any proof. No shred of existence. If it ever did exist, it might have been billions of years ago, long before we were ever on this Earth.” 

“The phoenix said it’s the tongue of my bloodline,” I whispered. “I know my family tree like the back of my hand. There’s never been a single mention of anything called Valyria. But… here I am. A witch. That never showed up on ancestry records either.” I turned my attention from Freya back to the songbird in my palm. The phoenix had to be the most beautiful bird I’d ever seen in my entire life. 

"Did I just create you?" It sounded like a silly question, I was sure of that. I had to have just created this majestic beast. What other explanation could there be? “Yes… and no,” it replied. “I was born in fire and blood to serve one family — and one Queen alone.” The more it spoke, the more tangled my thoughts became.

"What family? What one Queen?" I was growing more anxious for answers. “The family Targaryen,” it said with reverence. “Her Grace, Queen Rhaenys of House Targaryen, First of Her Name.” Targaryen? Queen Rhaenys? Again, I had more questions each time the phoenix spoke. "When was this?" I had a feeling Freya was going to be right. "Ancient times," the bird confirmed.

I couldn’t believe the words spilling from the Phoenix in my hand. The air around me felt thinner somehow, like gravity itself was shifting. I honestly thought I might faint. “I-it says… it was created to serve one family. One Queen.” The words came out in barely a breath. I was just so taken aback by everything. 

“T-their owner was a Rhaenys Targaryen, and it sounds like that she was a Queen. She existed in ancient times.” I couldn’t believe the words I was saying to Freya, Rebekah, and Marcel. This had to be a dream. A hallucination. I must have sounded as dazed as I felt — like I’d stepped into some forgotten myth. Maybe I really had jumped in the river after all. 



“That bloody bird is even more ancient than I am,” Rebekah finally said, breaking her silence. “Whatever place and dynasty it comes from… it must predate us by millennia at least, little sister,” Freya added, her voice catching slightly.

"Can you tell me more?" I asked the firebird and she slowly nodded her head. “Before my creation in fire and blood, Old Valyria fell. Afterward, the Targaryens and Velaryons sailed west. They had no choice,” she said, voice almost mournful. I had so many more questions I wanted to ask. Where was Old Valyria? Why did it fall? What laid west of it?

Suddenly I realized that Freya, Marcel, and Rebekah were looking at me as if asking: 'well, what did it say?' “Uh,” I hesitated, still trying to process what she’d told me. “Something happened to a place called Old Valyria. The Targaryens and Velaryons had to go west — it was before the phoenix was even created.”

“It’s definitely safe to say this bird is older than any of us, and all of us combined.” Freya mumbled, rather entranced with the Phoenix in my hand. I couldn't blame her, I was entranced by her as well. I’d always felt drawn to phoenixes — even back when I thought they were nothing more than myth. Now I was holding one. Real. Alive. Breathing. And somehow… mine.

“Am I… Rhaenys?” The question felt foolish, but something in me needed to hear it aloud. “Yes,” the phoenix replied softly. “You are Queen Rhaenys.” I'd always believed in reincarnation, more-so than probably anyone else I'd ever met. I thought about how I felt about Elijah, Freya, and Klaus — how I believed we must have loved each other in past lives. Could Rhaenys have been my first life… or just the one where it all began?

"Have I ever lived again before now?" I questioned and once more the bird nodded. "Many times, yes. In each new life, you do not remember the past. Something happens that allows you to awaken. Only you — the soul of Queen Rhaenys reborn — could summon me as you did today. I have missed you, my Queen. You do not remember me yet, but I am Nyx. I have always been with you. Always and forever.”

My breath caught. Always and forever. I’d heard those words more than once these last few days — and now they echoed from something not even of this world. This was so much to take in and so much to share with Freya, Rebekah, and Marcel.

“A-apparently… I’m the reincarnation of Queen Rhaenys Targaryen. I’ve lived many lives. The phoenix recognized me because only Rhaenys — only me — could summon her.” I turned to the Mikaelsons, who were clearly still locked out of the language, waiting for translation.

“The Phoenix — her name is Nyx, and she’s been with me, always and forever.” At those words, Freya, Rebekah, and Marcel exchanged glances. “That’s our family’s motto — always and forever, ” murmured Rebekah. I remembered what Elijah had told me — that their mother, Esther, a powerful witch, had created them over a thousand years ago. The Original vampire family. 

“My friends’ family motto is always and forever. Their mother, Esther, was a powerful witch over a thousand years ago,” I explained to Nyx. I noticed an inquisitive look come upon the songbird's face. “You may not be the only one in this room with Targaryen blood, my Queen. You may be among family.” I was surprised. Could I be somehow related to the Mikaelson's? For the sake of my relationship with three of the Mikaelson siblings, I was hoping I wasn't.

“Nyx says that any of you in this room — the descendants of Esther, may have Targaryen blood. You might be my family after all,” I whispered those words. Part of me feared the implications of them. Could what I had with Freya, Klaus, and Elijah continue if I were their blood family? Surely it could continue. I was born in 1993 — it’s not like I could be their long-lost sister, or even a daughter. If I was related to the Mikaelson's, it had to be several generations removed.

“You are safe with family, my Queen. I must rest now… but I will always be with you. Always and forever,” Nyx murmured, her voice fading like embers in the wind.  

When Nyx finished speaking, the fiery purple phoenix with reddish orange feathers started to lay her head down in my hand and curled up as if she were about to fall asleep. The purple fireball shimmered as it absorbed her. I stared at it in disbelief — and then, just like that, the fire dimmed, flickered… and vanished completely.



“Maybe that’s why we’ve always been so powerful,” Freya was the first to speak after Nyx disappeared. “Our matrilineal magic… maybe it was passed down through a Targaryen bloodline.” We were all reeling, there was no point in denying that.

As overcome with emotion as I was, it didn't seem half as much as the emotions overcoming Freya and Rebekah. “And that might be why I’ve always felt such a strong pull to my matrilineal line,” I added. “I’ve traced it back to around 1580 — give or take a few years.”

“Well, I think there’s one thing we can all agree on after witnessing that,” Marcel mumbled as he dropped onto a couch nearby. It still somewhat surprised me just how plush even the courtyard was. There were a few sofas, a few tables and chairs, and plenty of benches to take a seat. 



“Vandalia’s fixin’ to be the baddest witch in all of New Orleans. Ancient bloodline? Check. Powers I’ve never even seen before? Check. Damn — where were you when I was runnin’ the Quarter?” Marcel teased.

“Careful, don’t let Davina hear you talk like that,” Rebekah teased right back. “Oh my God,” I mumbled, glancing at my FitBit. “It’s already after one in the afternoon. Do we even still have time to go shopping before she and Kol get here? I-I didn’t mean to slow our day down again.” I was spiraling into a nervous apology — thank God for Freya and her uncanny ability to calm me.

“We aren’t on a schedule, babe,” she whispered those words and I immediately started to feel the panic attack begin to decrease. “If you’re ready, then we’re ready. We can talk about all of this on our walk,” Freya suggested as she reached out for my hand. Slowly, I nodded and slipped my hand into hers, lacing our fingers together. Instinctively, I drew her closer to me, grounding myself in the warmth of her touch.



This time, instead of green, a soft purple aura swirled around our hands — and I couldn’t help but smile. Just like the first time we touched, it felt like a wave of serenity washing over me, exactly as Freya had described.

“I think I’m getting stronger,” I whispered. Freya nodded, her hazel eyes soft. “I couldn’t be more proud of you. Before this is over, maybe you could teach me a few things,” she murmured, then leaned in, letting our lips touch for the first time while in front of Marcel and Rebekah. 



My heart felt like it might burst from my chest. Not just because of her kiss — but because neither she nor her brothers ever tried to keep me a secret. There was no shame. No embarrassment. Only love. I couldn’t stop myself — I wrapped my arms around her neck and pulled her closer, deepening the kiss until it felt like we were breathing as one.

Even after we pulled apart, I held her close. “I feel like I’ve loved you for a thousand lifetimes, Freya… and I’ll love you for a thousand more,” I murmured. Her cheeks flushed pink. “You’re the only woman I’ll ever love, Vandalia LaRue — with all my heart, and then some.” Her words echoed in my heart long after they’d been spoken. “Likewise, Freya Mikaelson,” I whispered and captured her lips once more in a kiss. 

In that moment, I didn’t care how much time we were burning. I’d choose this — choose her — over shopping any day of the week. And really, what woman in her right mind wouldn’t?

(5,947 words -- roughly 28 pages.)

Notes:

It's finally here - the start of the crossover! (Well, technically the start of the crossover involved the color of magic when Vandalia comes in contact with Elijah, Freya, and Klaus - but you'll understand why that is, somewhat, starting in this chapter! A better explanation in future chapters!) I actually overhauled this chapter a bit as I uploaded it for you guys. I prefer the way it flows now, and it added a couple hundred words to the word count, so that's a win-win for me!

As of this morning, we've hit 2,500 reads/views (my goal to be at as of today!!) 22 subscribers, 21 kudos, and 30 bookmarks! Thank you all SO much for staying with the story, especially up to this point - the crossover. This story takes so many twists and turns between now and where I'm currently at in the story (which is chapter 78, but I've written several future chapters already while the ideas were fresh lol.)

The word count in the first fourteen chapters, according to AO3 is 93,286! That's just in 14 chapters y'all! I've been working on some further out chapters - 77 and 78 specifically. We've got a long, long way to go. As I've said already, my story progresses at the pace of a snail on a cold December day. I love to write this way, and apparently, some of y'all are enjoying it, too :)

Again, I'll also add since this chapter is Freya heavy in photos - Grok doesn't know the beautiful Riley Voelkel's face, so I've substituted for the beautiful Natalie Dormer. (I absolutely adore both actresses!)

Thanks again for reading! As always, I'll leave y'all with my Spotify Playlist for this story. It's public, so anyone can listen to it. :)

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5vxkLYvWEGgrkWbLFdN42h

I advertise for my story on Tumblr & IG - Tumblr is 'borntobeamikaelson' and IG is 'CemeteryGirlx.' Feel free to follow!

Chapter 16: Freya's Point of View

Summary:

“Warning: allowing Mikaelson women to shop unsupervised may result in extreme charges to your account — emotionally and financially."

Chapter Sixteen:

Sprouting Sorority: Beignets, Leather, and Lace Pt 1

The last few hours had left me stunned. Honestly, stunned was an understatement. Just the alone time I’d shared with Vandalia this morning, after my younger brothers left for the Faction Meeting, had been enough to leave me speechless.

But what happened just a little while ago left me truly speechless. Watching Vandalia display such an enormous amount of magic — such sheer, breathtaking power — Marcel had described it best: awe-inspiring. It was absolutely breathtaking. 



The way she summoned that Phoenix into the world — it was nothing short of incredible. But the most mind-blowing part, at least for me, was hearing Vandalia speak a language I’d never heard before — speaking with the Phoenix, and revealing a history I’d once believed was only a myth.

The Phoenix had mentioned that we Mikaelsons might carry Targaryen blood as well. Could that be why Elijah, Nik, and I were so drawn to Vandalia? Could my theory — that threads of fate tie us together — really be true?



Even back in her hometown, one of Vandalia’s friends had told her and Elijah that soulmates were a very real concept— destined to find each other in every lifetime. What if my two younger brothers and I had each loved Vandalia in one of her past lives?

One thing was for certain — I hoped the Phoenix, Nyx, would make another appearance soon. This time, I wanted Elijah and Nik to see it as well. I was more than certain Vandalia wanted them to. 



After a gentle kiss to his cheek, Rebekah pulled away from Marcel, and we said our goodbyes. It wasn’t that we wouldn’t have taken him shopping — but this was meant to be a girls’ day out. Besides, someone needed to be home in case Kol and Davina arrived — and with them, you never knew when that would be.

Rebekah and I finally managed to pry Vandalia away from the compound, and together we strolled down the bustling sidewalks of Bourbon Street. I couldn’t help but smile as she took in every detail of every building we passed.



Soon, we turned down St. Ann Street, which would take us straight to Café du Monde. I wanted to introduce Vandalia to some authentic New Orleans food. Beignets felt like the perfect pick-me-up after the kind of afternoon she’d just had.

But before we could make it all the way there, Vandalia let out a happy squeak of surprise. “Is that a fountain? It’s so beautiful!” Smiling, she began steering us toward it without even realizing it.

"This is Jackson Square, actually,” I told her, watching the wonder in her eyes with a soft smile. For a moment, I’d forgotten that Vandalia had never been here. Of course she didn’t know about Jackson Square. The very center of the French Quarter — the heartbeat of it, in a way.



We reached the fountain, and I watched as Vandalia pulled out her phone to snap a few photos. Then she dipped her hand into the water, unable to resist. I found it rather endearing.

"Can we take a selfie together? The three of us?" Vandalia asked, and I smiled, savoring the chance for a photo with the woman I was falling in love with. “Do I look pretty enough for a photo, Freya?" Rebekah asked, and I laughed. "When are you not beautiful, little sister?"



We squeezed into frame and Vandalia took the photo. After Vandalia had taken a few, Rebekah pulled out her own phone to snap a couple more of us sitting together. “Another for my scrapbook. I’m so excited to start making it!” Her voice brimmed with enthusiasm, and honestly, it made me excited to watch her work on a project I knew would become a true labor of love.

A few moments later, Vandalia’s eyes locked onto something else at the very center of Jackson Square. She took off toward it, with Rebekah and me not far behind. “Oh my God — it’s President Jackson," she gushed, snapping a photo of the statue. To everyone around us, I was certain Vandalia looked like a proper tourist — and honestly? It was a beautiful thing to witness. Her excitement over every little thing was infectious.

“I can take some photos of you with the statue, if you’d like," I offered, and Vandalia immediately nodded. “I’d love that. We could take another selfie together, too," Vandalia beamed, and I gladly obliged. I took a couple photos of her at various angles around the statue, and then we took a few selfies together. Just the two of us — a private moment captured in sunlight and laughter.



“My God, you’re so beautiful," Vandalia whispered, gazing at the photos we’d just taken. I couldn’t help but feel my cheeks flush red. It had been a long time since anyone had paid me compliments like that. I wasn’t used to it — not in the least. I had a feeling we were like two peas in a pod when it came to that.

“I was going to say the exact same thing about you," I admitted, a little shyly. "But pictures don’t even do you justice." A small grin spread on my lips as her cheeks reddened. Vandalia wasn't used to genuine compliments, either. I knew it would take time for her to believe me — truly believe me. But in my opinion, we had all the time in the world.

When Vandalia shook her head, a curtain of her dark hair fell into her eyes. I couldn’t stop myself from reaching out and gently tucking it behind her ear. Her eyes were far too beautiful to be hidden — luminous and impossible to look away from.

“It’s true, though. A picture can’t capture how radiant you really are — the way sunlight hits you just right, or how your cheeks are all rosy right now,” I murmured, smiling wide.



“C-Can I kiss you, Freya?” Vandalia asked, pulling me a little closer. “Of course you can, Vandalia. You never have to ask,” I whispered, voice barely above a breath. It was as if the rest of the world had disappeared, only leaving her and I. “I—I worry sometimes. Especially right now. Because… we’re out in public, and your sister’s right there.” Her voice trailed off.

“You’re not a dirty little secret,” I said firmly, remembering her using that phrase before. “I’m not ashamed to be seen kissing the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on. It’s a privilege. An honor.” As I spoke, I leaned in closer—until our lips finally met. Her lips were soft, trembling just a little—like she couldn’t believe this was real. Maybe I couldn’t either.

I could only imagine how Vandalia felt at that moment, and I had to think it was pretty similar to how I was feeling. My heart felt like it might burst right through my chest. The butterflies in my stomach—wild, uncontrollable—were something I hadn’t felt in years. Pure, beautiful chaos.

I felt her warmth, her love, radiating in blissful waves—and I prayed she could feel the same coming from me. Our lips lingered a moment longer before we slowly pulled away. “C’mon, babe—let’s grab a treat before we shop ‘til we drop,” I said, smiling wide. I watched as Vandalia’s cheeks flushed even redder. 

“You called me ‘babe,’ Elijah calls me ‘dear,’ and Klaus says ‘love.’ I really like all these little names. I hope it’s okay if I use them too,” Vandalia said softly, like she was afraid I might say no. “You can call me anything your heart desires. Pet names don’t bother me—not when I know the feelings behind them are real,” I reassured her.

“I—I’m the same way when it comes to pet names,” Vandalia murmured with her cheeks still a beautiful tint of pink. “I normally don’t like them and especially not so soon, but when it feels as right as this does…” Her voice trailed off. “I’ve been calling people ‘darling’ for a thousand years. I’m certainly not stopping now,” Rebekah teased.



With my little sister beside us, we strolled through the rest of Jackson Square, crossed Decatur Street, and stepped into the Café Du Monde. “I’ve always wanted to try authentic beignets,” Vandalia said as we walked in. “My friends used to rave about them after visiting New Orleans. Even the Disney World ones, I’ve heard, are pretty good.”

“Three large orders and three iced coffees, then?” I asked. Vandalia and Rebekah both nodded without hesitation. I watched the two of them wander the shop together while I waited in the long line.

Every so often, I’d glance back at Vandalia, unable to help myself. I didn’t have the super-hearing my vampyric siblings did, so I couldn’t make out what she and Rebekah were chatting about. All I could do was imagine. But whatever it was, it had Rebekah smiling in that rare, protective way she only wore when she truly liked someone. And that made my heart swell.



The butterflies in my stomach were still going wild with thoughts of what their conversation might be about. I imagined Rebekah saying something like, ‘Freya’s needed someone like you for so long. Just look at that smile—I've never seen one so real.’

The way Vandalia talked, though, I was almost certain that one of her friends—if they were here—would say the exact same thing to me about her. She just had that way about her—gentle, radiant, and unforgettable. The kind of woman you knew could change lives just by showing up.

I found myself a bit envious of my brother Elijah—how he’d seen Vandalia in her natural element. Back in her hometown—where she was most comfortable, and dare I say, the most herself. I wanted to visit soon. To meet her friends. To see all the places that were special to her, and learn everything that made her who she was. All in due time, I supposed.



I wanted to envy Elijah—for the memories he’d already made with Vandalia, for being the first to stumble across her. I couldn’t help but wonder what it would have been like if she’d met me first. I knew I didn’t need to be jealous. We were making our own memories—our first girls’ day, just the three of us. The first of many to come in the future, I hoped. 



At last, I had three iced coffees and three orders of beignets in hand. I made my way to the back of the café, where Rebekah and Vandalia sat at an out-of-the-way table. I set everything down and slid into the seat beside Vandalia.

“The smell is to die for,” Vandalia murmured and reached forward, but I gently took her hand. “They’re piping hot, babe. Trust me, you’ll want to wait a few,” I laughed softly. “Then I’ll just start with coffee,” she grinned, picking up her iced drink with her free hand. Bringing the straw to her lips, she took a long sip. 



“Oh wow. This is really good. What flavor is this?” Vandalia questioned, taking another long sip afterward. “They just call it brown sugar, but I know it’s way more than just that. I was hoping you’d like it—it’s my favorite,” I admitted, relieved she hadn’t disliked it. “It’s absolutely delicious,” Vandalia said with a grin. 

“Come sit with us, Becks. I bet Vandalia will want a photo of this moment for her scrapbook,” I coaxed my little sister. “A-actually, I’d really love that. If you two don’t mind,” she said with a shy smile, a tinge of pink coloring her cheeks.

“I’ll be in more photos over the next two weeks than I’ve been in the last two centuries!” Rebekah sounded like she was protesting—but deep down, I knew she was enjoying every second of being included. We huddled close, and Vandalia snapped a couple of photos—ones I knew she’d treasure.



“We photograph so well,” Vandalia murmured. “Well, of course we do, darling. We’re Mikaelsons,” Rebekah replied, ego on full display. My little sister was a bit vain—typical Taurus behavior. I’d come to recognize it, and even love it, over the last decade.

“Or perhaps we’re all Targaryens,” I added with a smirk. One thing was for sure — Vandalia wasn’t a Mikaelson. Well, not yet at any rate. Maybe the three of us had been sisters in another life.

“Rhaenys—such a pretty name,” I said as Vandalia sipped her iced coffee. “I like it, too. It’s unique, like my own name. People used to make fun of my name. Most just shortened it to Van and made dumb jokes like, ‘When’s the van coming?' But my close friends call me Vannie, which I do like.” 

“Vannie, now that’s a sweet name for a sweet girl,” said Rebekah. “It’s a family name, actually. My great-great-great-grandmother was Vandalia Gibson. She, too, went by Vannie. She had two sets of twins — Janella and Camilla, my great-great-grandmother being Janella. Her second set of twins, she named after her and her husband. Henry Oliver and Martha Vandelia. Then, Janella had a daughter named Vannie Louise. Unfortunately, she died at almost four years old. Membranous croup. 1915,” Vandalia said softly, her sigh catching at the end.

“The name was used a few more times throughout the Gibson family. But I do believe my three times great-grandmother was the first. She was born in 1856 and died in 1949. I’ve always wished I could have met her or Janella. She was born in 1882 and died in 1972. I’ve always felt very drawn to them,” Vandalia went on. 

I was over a thousand years old and yet I sat here with an emotion stirring deep within me. A little bit of envy, and a whole lot of wonder. I had been awake in 1814, before the ancestors Vandalia was currently talking about were alive. However, the next time I awoke from my deep slumber was 1914. The original Vandalia, her daughter Janella, and even Janella's young daughter, Vannie Louise, were each alive that year. 

'You're too old for her, Freya.' That small voice of doubt was trying to get to me again. 'You know it's true. Elijah, Nik, you... What could you possibly have in common with this young woman? Absolutely nothing.' My eyes met Vandalia's and once again, she squashed that inner-voice that tried casting a shadow over this beautiful moment.

Wasn't there an age old phrase that went something like 'opposites attract?' That was an undeniable fact. I was absolutely attracted to Vandalia for everything that made her different from me and my siblings. 

However, we already shared so many similarities. I saw it between her and my brothers, too. There were way more opposites than similarities, that went without argument. But the interests she shared with them, it left them spellbound to her. It left me spellbound to her.

“When you talk about your ancestors, I can feel how drawn you are to them,” I said softly, lifting her hand to my lips and kissing the back of it. I saw the way Vandalia gazed at me — I was certain this was something Elijah and Nik had done with her as well. We Mikaelson siblings were a lot alike in the way we showed affection it seemed. 

“They should be honored to have someone like you carry their name.” Those words of mine, of course, made Vandalia flush bright pink. “I-I guess after a thousand years, it must be hard to remember your own family tree,” she said quietly. “It’s not something we dwell on much,” said Rebekah. “Our parents were frightful enough—thank God we never knew any grandparents,” she added dryly.

There was a gentle sorrow on Vandalia’s face when Rebekah confessed we hadn’t known any of our grandparents. I wasn’t a vampire like my siblings, I couldn’t create a mental link with Vandalia — but I longed for her to know my father, Mikael, through my eyes. I wanted all of my siblings to know the Mikael I knew, before I ‘died.’ 

I carried a seething hatred for my mother, Esther, for giving me away to Dahlia. Over the years, I’d started to wonder if maybe Esther was a bit naïve when it came to her older sister. A part of me wondered if Esther truly believed that her sister was just ‘having her on’ about giving up her firstborn child, and the firstborn of every generation to follow. 

A part of me wanted to see my mother as the victim of Dahlia’s cruelty so that we could share something in common. I remembered my mother sobbing and even trying to put up a fight while Dahlia took me away from her, Finn, and the unborn baby my mother was currently carrying — Elijah. 

Regardless of the ‘what ifs,’ my fate was forever altered. I was robbed out of centuries with my siblings, a thousand years worth of memories. All the laughs we would have had together, the smiles, even tears we might have shed together — I mourned it all. Finn having to bear the burden of being the oldest sibling when it was my cross to carry, not his to pick up.



“I can’t wait any longer to try one of these bad boys,” Vandalia teased and picked up a beignet and took a bite. It was as if she melted into a puddle of deliciousness. “Oh my God. They’re even better than I ever thought they’d be. I’m going to move here and live on these, and get fatter,” she said with a hearty laugh. 

“Oh no, no no. You’ll be earning those,” I teased, flashing her a playful grin. “That or you could just become a vampire and eat as many as you wish, and never gain a pound,” mused my younger sister from across the table, popping the last bite of a beignet into her mouth. 

I immediately cut my little sister a look. “A witch as powerful as her? You’d be a damn fool to think I’d ever let her be turned.” I surprised myself with how stern—how final—I sounded. Like I’d laid down a law I wouldn’t let anyone break.

“Y-you can’t be both?” Vandalia asked. I shook my head. I could go into the details of those ridiculous heretics but, it was a story for another day. I truly wasn’t too familiar with them before they were all wiped out. All but one, anyway. 

“Laws of nature won’t allow it. Witches see themselves as above it all—like they’re the only natural supernatural beings on Earth. I think it has a lot to do with being born and not created. Magic’s born in our blood. But to become a vampire…” My voice trailed off. I knew she didn’t need those details right now. 

“You have to die to become a vampire. You’re no longer living, but you aren’t dead, either. You’re the undead,” Vandalia whispered. I nodded. “They look down on werewolves a little less because at least that’s also something you’re born as. But it’s still viewed as a curse. It started as a curse—an ancient witch punishing an entire colony long, long ago,” I explained.

“Witches sound like they think their shit doesn’t stink,” Vandalia muttered, mouth half-full of powdered sugar and sass. “A lot do,” Rebekah said flatly. “I’ve met plenty of nasty, egotistical witches in my day.” There was a time when my siblings didn’t hold witches in high regard—before I came into their lives.

“Then there are others who don’t see themselves that way at all,” I added, a bit defensively. “So that’s why you lost your magic when you became vampires,” Vandalia said, more statement than question. Rebekah nodded.



“None of us were ever seasoned witches. Kol dabbled a little. So did our late brother, Finn. But the rest of us? We were content as humans. We knew what our mother was, and we knew magic was in our blood—but we were happy enough without it. I know I was,” Rebekah explained.

More than once, Rebekah and I had talked about how much she longed for a normal, mortal life. Each of my siblings carried deep wounds from the free will our parents had stripped from them. None more so than Niklaus. Our mother had taken the most from him.



“I can’t imagine being without my magic,” I said softly, popping another beignet into my mouth. “Now that I have it, I don’t think I could ever part with it. It’s part of who I am. Just like I feel whole whenever I’m with you, or Elijah, or Klaus,” Vandalia murmured.

“Love binds us. Maybe magic… and a couple hundred past lives, too,” I said softly, my eyes lingering on her beautiful green ones. That’s when I noticed Rebekah holding up her phone. “What? You two are the cutest couple. If you’re going to take a hundred photos of me, I get to return the favor,” she teased, snapping a few shots of Vandalia and me with our beignets.



“I love our dear brothers, Freya, but I think I’m going to have to crown the two of you my ‘one true pair,’” Rebekah said with a grin, showing us the photos she’d just taken.

“I—I have to admit, Freya. There’s only one other woman I’ve ever been this close to. My best friend, Dadie. There’s always been this unspoken thing between us. Well—half-spoken, I guess. We aren’t a couple or anything. We never would ruin our friendship by letting it turn into something more like that. But we love each other… in that way. I hope if you ever come to Henderson and meet her, you two hit it off. You’re very much the kind of woman she’d take to being friends with real quick. Dadie’s super into the occult, and she’s actually a Norse Pagan. So she’s super smart when it comes to Norse mythology.” 

Hearing Vandalia admit this—my heart sank, just a little. Maybe it shouldn’t have, but it did. I guess, in some strange way, I’d hoped to be her first love like that. Even though she wasn’t mine. I know—it’s hypocritical. “I understand—and of course, I’d love to meet her,” I managed, hoping my voice didn’t betray the sting. I finally put a smile on my face regardless of how hard it was to wear it at that exact moment. 

“I’m glad you’ve got someone like that in your life,” I added. And I meant it—jealousy aside, I truly was glad. Even if I felt a little jealous, I knew I shouldn’t. “Dadie must be the one Elijah mentioned—the one who gave him travel tips for your dates,” I said, recalling him telling us about her during our phone call.

“That’s her. She’s traveled so much—thirty-eight states and three countries. Meanwhile, I’ve barely left Kentucky,” Vandalia laughed. “I just… felt like I had to be honest with you about what she and I share. Part of her might be hurt when she finds out about you. But mostly? I think she’ll be over the moon for me. For us. I’m not going to hide, or lie, or anything like that. I mean, you’ve seen how open I am on Facebook. When I upload photos this evening, I’ll have to explain the ‘love tangle’,” Vandalia used Rebekah’s verbiage on the matter. 

“I don’t ever want to hide, either,” I said softly, leaning in to kiss her cheek. “I would never lie, or deny that I adore every part of you,” I reassured her as she’d just done for me. “As a matter of fact.” I pulled out my iPhone and started to make a post on Facebook with a few of our photos from Jackson Square and here at the Café Du Monde.













‘Some much-needed girl time today with my little sister and the love of my life. Showing Vandalia around the French Quarter—it’s her first time in New Orleans. Her first Café Du Monde visit, and her first beignet. Next up: a shopping spree… on both my darling brothers’ dimes. Let’s hope their credit scores survive. ;)’ 

I tagged both Vandalia and Rebekah’s accounts as I made my post on Facebook. If Elijah could post Vandalia, and she could post about him — then we should be allowed to post each other, too. “No hiding. No lying. No denying.” I turned the screen toward her. “I’m ready for whatever comes our way… are you?”

Vandalia started gnawing at her bottom lip—and her lip ring—and her cheeks flushed a deeper shade of red. I thought she looked beautiful. “Y-you and Elijah sure know how to make me feel special. More special than I probably am,” she whispered. I couldn’t help the little grin that tugged at my lips. “You are incredibly special. Making you see that… that was the whole point.”

“I’m ready for whatever comes, as long as I have each of you.” Her voice was soft, but full of conviction. “I love my family back home, but… I think I’ve found the family I was always meant to belong to. In some way, shape, or form.”

“I suppose I’m no longer the youngest sister in the Mikaelson clan—but Davina stole that title years ago,” Rebekah teased. “How old is Davina?” Vandalia asked. “Twenty-six. Her birthday was earlier this year,” I said. 

“So I’m not the baby, then. I’ve got a few years on Davina,” Vandalia said, sipping her iced coffee—just as it made that familiar, hollow slurp. “I think a refill is definitely in order,” I teased. She drank coffee like it was oxygen.

After polishing off our beignets, we refilled our iced coffees and wandered back into the French Quarter, ready to explore a bit more. Vandalia caught sight of a street sign and headed toward it with a grin. “I live on Madison Street,” she laughed. She paused to snap a photo or two beneath the Madison Street sign, flashing a peace sign at the camera in one of the selfies.

I suppose every town likely had one. Presidential themed streets, tree themed, state names, and numbered streets. The list could go on and on. At least New Orleans, especially the French Quarter, felt unique to me in all the French inspired street names. Other than in France, I wasn’t aware of any other city in the continental United States with as much French influence as New Orleans. For a LaRue like Vandalia, that had to mean a lot to her to be here.



“Lucky coincidence—there’s a wonderful little boutique just ahead.” I nudged her to look up the block. We started making our way to the door and walked inside. “Oh wow. My mom would love this place,” Vandalia said, taking in the psychedelic swirls and retro flair straight out of the ‘60s and ‘70s. 

“Was she from the era?” I asked, watching as Vandalia nodded slowly, thumbing through a rack of fringe and florals. “Definitely. She was born in the early sixties. Flower power, Woodstock, all-out hippie vibes—those are a few of her favorite things.”

“A part of me wishes I could have experienced this vibe,” Rebekah murmured as she ran her fingertips over a gorgeous dress that was, I think they called this pattern — paisley — in design. It was pink and offered a bit of tie-dye swirl to it as well. “There is something colorful and bright about the era,” I admitted. My attention were on the blues and the greens. 

“I-I know you were asleep,” Vandalia whispered in my direction so that eavesdroppers might not overhear. “But…?” She turned her attention towards Rebekah who merely laughed. It was a laugh that masked a lot of pain. “I was asleep, too, darling. Daggered,” she murmured. My little sisters tone was a mixture of regret and venom in equal measure.

The three of us browsed through racks until we each found a few pieces to try on. We ended up posing together in front of a full-length mirror, laughing as we struck dramatic model stances. “I think these are keepers,” Rebekah grinned. “Surprisingly, I’m kind of into this fashion. Much more than I expected.”

That was surprising even to me for Rebekah to admit. “I think you both look beautiful. We each look like we’re the daughters of someone who attended Woodstock.” I could tell there was something else on Vandalia’s tongue so I gave her a light smile, hoping she’d continue. “I was just thinking that — we’ve each missed out on a lot of life. You were asleep under a spell, and you were daggered… then there’s me, just never having the opportunity to live until now.”

I had to admit — Vandalia had hit the nail right on the head with that assumption. “We each have a lot to make up for, darling. A lot of lost time in all aspects of life,” admitted Rebekah, giving Vandalia a rather bright smile. “You’re helping with that, whether you realize it or not,” I murmured and delicately ran my fingertips over Vandalia’s right arm, feeling the goosebumps raise on her flesh.

Of course, Vandalia documented our choice of outfits with a photo—who could blame her? For three women who weren’t actually hippies, we wore the style well. Rebekah and myself being far more ancient and Vandalia being quite a bit younger than a child of the sixties. Now that I thought about it, Rebekah and I had been asleep for most of the 1900s.



After our photo-op, we picked out cute earrings, necklaces, stylish belts, and other trinkets. Once satisfied with our haul, we made our way to the front counter. At the register, Vandalia pulled out Elijah’s credit card and stared at it for a long moment in quiet contemplation. 

Her anxiety all but rolled off her in waves—I could feel it. I could almost hear the questions in her head: Is this really okay? Should I actually do this? Another minute passed before she finally swiped it. I sure hoped Nik had meant it when he encouraged this shopping spree—because once he saw Vandalia in these outfits, I doubted he’d be grumbling about the credit card bill.

A few blocks away, we ducked into our next stop—one that felt more my style. It had a darker edge to it. Dare I say… Gothic? “I could live here,” Vandalia murmured, sipping her iced coffee as she thumbed through a rack of black lace and velvet.

That surprised me. I hadn’t pegged Vandalia as someone drawn to Gothic couture. “Really?” I asked, and she slowly nodded. “I know I don’t exactly look like I dress this way, but I would—if I had the chance.”

It didn’t take long for us to find outfits we loved—even Rebekah dipped her toe into the Goth aesthetic. Just like at the last boutique, we struck poses in front of a mirror while Vandalia snapped a photo.



“I’d dress like this twenty-four seven if I could. The only time I ever really get away with it is Halloween,” Vandalia murmured. Surprisingly, it was my little sister who said exactly what I was thinking. “I’m shocked you don’t dress like this all the time. It suits you—you’re a fuckin’ knockout,” Becks said, her British accent cutting through the boutique like a blade.

Vandalia blushed. “It’d help if we had shops like this where I live. There’s a mall across the river with a Hot Topic, but their stuff isn’t even close to this. Not anymore.” A small sigh left her and suddenly she looked slightly crestfallen. My mind was made up. “Well, that’s settled—we’re spending a small fortune,” I said, only half-joking. We spent the next half hour combing through racks and finding accessories to match every outfit.

“This is the kind of lingerie I like,” Vandalia said as we neared the back of the boutique. “Even if I’m in something bright—hell, I could be wearing a pink sundress—I still like having this underneath. Maybe it’s to give the impression I can be a little bit of heaven… and a little bit of hell.” She murmured it as she pulled down a few skimpy, goth-inspired sets.

A grin tugged at my lips as I pictured what she described—sweet on the outside, sinful underneath. A pink dress concealing something dark and delicate. Angel or devil. I liked the thought of her being a little of both.

I was a little taken aback—but in the best possible way—when she crooked her finger and beckoned me to follow. Vandalia led me into a dressing room and quietly shut the door behind us. “Will you tell me if any of these look good? I’d hate to drop this kind of money if it’s not worth it,” she asked, and I nodded without hesitation.

Slowly—almost teasingly—she began peeling off her top. My heart rate went from steady to erratic in a split second. And then, without ceremony, she unhooked her bra and let it fall to the floor. Her back was to me, but she stood in front of a mirror—and I couldn’t tear my eyes away even if I'd wanted to.

Her breasts were full, tipped with the prettiest little pink nipples I’d ever seen. Her areolas were slightly larger, darkening with clear arousal. My own nipples tightened in response to the thoughts racing through my mind.

I’d never considered myself wildly sexual. I wasn’t some kind of deviant—I’d always been… reserved. But the things racing through my head right now made me question everything I thought I knew about myself.

Vandalia slipped on a few different bras, and I gave her my honest opinion on each. Every single one looked incredible—especially on her. I was so turned on I wished she could’ve tried on the matching panties too. But stores frowned on that—for obvious, frustratingly sanitary reasons.

Maybe later tonight, I’d get to peek in on the show she planned to give Elijah and Nik—if she’d let me. If they would. The image refused to leave my head—Vandalia sauntering into the den in nothing but red-and-black lace, all frills and fire, and the three of us Mikaelson siblings descending on her like predators on their prey.

As if reading my mind, Vandalia leaned in close and whispered, “I’ll model the underwear for you tonight.” Then—soft as breath—she brushed her lips over my earlobe. I whimpered, reaching for her hips without thinking, my fingernails digging into her skin. I didn’t realize I’d done it until I already had.

“V-Vandalia… I’ve never had a woman do this to me before.” It was the truth. I’d hardly even let men be this way with me, let alone another woman. Sure, I’d dated a woman in my somewhat recent past but she and I were never like this with one another. “I haven’t either,” she whispered, then caught my earlobe between her teeth, tugging gently. The moan slipped out of me before I could stop it—and I didn’t care who heard.

“If Rebekah wasn’t waiting for us…” Vandalia murmured, her breath still warm on my skin. “Just let that be your final thought.” Then she pulled away. My mind reeled. If Rebekah hadn’t been waiting… would she have—would we have made love right here in this tiny dressing room? 

I tried to pull myself together as she redressed and gathered the clothes she wanted into her arms. As I followed her out, I guaranteed my cheeks were a permanent shade of red. Rebekah knew exactly what had just transpired—a knowing little smirk danced on her pale pink lips. Damn that vampyric hearing. There’d never be a moment of privacy between me and Vandalia. 

My little sister didn’t say a word—probably knowing she’d embarrass one of us if she did. I was painfully aware Rebekah had overheard everything, but Vandalia didn’t seem to notice—or if she did, she didn’t let it show. Just as well. I didn’t want her to be so embarrassed that she’d never do such a thing again. No, I welcomed her being like this with me. Honestly, I was already aching for more. 

Without hesitation this time, Vandalia pulled Klaus’s credit card from her wallet and paid for our whole Gothic haul. As we walked out of the Gothic couture shop, my mind kept replaying the moment in the dressing room over and over again. No doubt whatever Rebekah had overheard was living rent-free in her head, too. 

I felt like a teenager on a blissful high from her first real crush. I couldn’t even find the right words to describe how Vandalia made me feel — especially in the moments when it was just the two of us. If our day had ended right then and there — if the sun had set and the shops had closed — I still would’ve gone home floating. 

Because that moment in the dressing room… it was more than heat. It hadn’t just been bold of her to make such a ‘first move.’ It had been something real. The way she murmured into my ear… it was like she whispered to every part of me — the good, the guarded, even the darker edges I try to keep buried. 

When her lips brushed my earlobe, it wasn’t just desire I felt. No — it was something deeper. Something terrifying in the best kind of way. Something rare and true. I’ve never ached like this. I’ve never wanted to give so much of myself to one person and still worried it might not be enough.

Flashes of my time with Keelin came to mind — and they felt… elementary compared to this. And yet, words she once threw at me during our final fight echoed anyway. They fanned the flames of my old insecurities. 

Because truth be told… I don’t know how to make myself worthy of Vandalia. My brothers — they were powerful, magnetic, devastatingly handsome. Even Rebekah — she had that head-turning beauty and sharp charisma that could disarm gods.

And then there was me. The eldest Mikaelson, yes — but somehow still the most ordinary. So plain compared to them. What did I really have to offer Vandalia LaRue, beyond my knowledge of magic and the promise of unconditional love?

Was that enough?

The day wasn’t done — far from it — but if it had been… if all I had to carry home was that moment in the dressing room, and all the memories we’d made so far today… It would’ve been enough.

More than enough. More than I ever dared believe I could deserve.

(6,486 words -- roughly 29 pages.)

Notes:

** Additional update as of June 14th, 2025 ** This chapter has now been broken into two parts! Upon revising it, it was over 10,000 words and I decided to do a chapter split. For the last couple of weeks, I've actually been going back and revising all of my chapters, even here on AO3. If you read Chapter 1 through 16 prior to June 14th, 2025 - then I highly suggest you go back and re-read. Some chapters, upwards of 2,500 new words have been added. I'm still working on a brand new Chapter 17 from a brand new point of view! The second half of this shopping trip will be the brand new Chapter 18. Thank you all so much for reading and for your patience!!

** Previous note: Update day has been pushed to Wednesday - sorry for the delay! We had multiple days of bad weather in a row. On the 16th, an EF3 tornado came as close as twenty miles away from us. (I know that isn't really *close* but, it had me worried about not just myself, but all of my friends that live in my area.) If you're the praying sort, or just the good vibes sending sort - keep all of those affected from the tornadoes around the US in your thoughts. A minor one hit my Dad's hometown of Sikeston, MO - and an EF4 hit a town I'm extremely familiar with, Marion, IL. The worst one in Kentucky, the EF4 that hit the London and Somerset areas. I'm praying severe weather season is wrapping up and ending! (Fingers crossed!)

As of right now, we're at 2,751 reads/views! We've gained three new subscriptions - now up to 25. 22 kudos and we're still sitting at 30 bookmarks. Hopefully that number rises. :) By next Wednesday, I'd love to see the reader count up to 2,950 and I'd be even more tickled if it hits 3,000. For the word count, in fifteen chapters AO3 says we're at a word count of 99,220! This chapter should see us closer to 110,000!

This chapter is VERY photo heavy and I will warn that now for those who don't particularly like the photos. Grok doesn't do the best job when doing photographs of three people. Occasionally, even though I specify that Natalie Dormer (who I'm using for Freya since Grok doesn't know Riley's beautiful face) and Claire Holt are two different people - I'll still get an image that looks like Vandalia and two Freya's or Vandalia and two Rebekah's. Despite that, I'm so glad Grok knows Charles Michael Davis's face. The photos I had before from Bing of just a stunning blond woman and an attractive African-American male... it didn't do them any credit. So I really enjoy Grok's ability to capture Rebekah and Marcel. :)

I hope you enjoy Vandalia's trip with Freya and Rebekah in this chapter! Nothing too 'x' rated in this chapter - at least not yet. It's more than insinuated and desired though. The 'xxx' content is coming. If I don't add a new chapter (I've had an idea for a brand new chapter that would come after this one) then the first bit of true 'xxx' content is coming in three more chapters. We shall see if I write another brand new chapter or not between now and next update day!!

I once again drop subtle hints in this chapter to things that are coming much later in the future. Thanks again for following Vannie's journey!

Chapter 17: Marcel's Point of View

Summary:

"The best friendships are just two people drinking coffee and remembering how far they've come together."

Chapter Seventeen:

Brotherhood Over Coffee: The Weight of Memory

This morning already felt livelier than normal. I guess I owed that to the raven-haired beauty who arrived at the Abattoir in the middle of the night with Elijah Mikaelson. Since then, the air’s felt more magical — if you’ll forgive the cliché. It wasn't just Vandalia being a witch, there was something else about her and about this morning — a certain vibe.



Rebekah was absolutely glowing this morning. I hadn’t seen her so excited since Christmas — maybe not even since Kol and Davina’s wedding. Freya, too, looked more enchanting than usual — like her glow wasn’t just on her skin but radiated from her whole being. 

I knew Freya’s glow was due to love being in the air. As for Bekah? Bekah was a cupid if ever there was one. She was living for this ‘love tangle’ as she’d put it, between Elijah, Klaus, Freya, and Vandalia at the very center of it.  



Me? I didn’t feel too different but I couldn’t deny that there was a sense of calmness in the Abattoir. It was an odd sensation because honestly, things were far from calm. If anything, things were more jostled than they’d been in years — especially in our supernatural world. Tensions seemed high like years before, attacks between the factions becoming a common occurrence once more. I didn’t like it. Not one bit.

The factions were starting to seem restless — like they were bored of the peace... or worse, like they were waiting for something. Impending doom, some might call it. I didn’t like the way the air had started to feel lately. But ever since Vandalia walked through that gate? It’s like she took hold of the tension and cast it aside. As soon I saw those sparks of colored magic between her and a couple of the Mikaelson's, it's as if the air calmed or stilled.

‘Have the ladies safely departed for their shopping excursion?’ My phone buzzed with Elijah’s text. I couldn’t help but chuckle — he sounded the same in text as he did in person. Eloquent wasn’t even the half of it. ‘Just a few minutes ago, actually. RIP to your credit cards.’



When I didn’t get an immediate response, I figured Klaus and his laughter were keeping Elijah preoccupied. That was more than fine by me — I had more to handle than waiting on a snarky comeback from the noble one. Not that his comebacks weren’t legendary, because trust me, they were.

I was still reeling from everything that happened before the ladies left. I couldn’t shake the image of Vandalia LaRue and the mythical phoenix she summoned — with magic that was still new to her, no less. She spoke in a language neither Rebekah nor Freya had ever heard before.

I wasn’t kidding when I said it — something told me Vandalia was fixin’ to be the most bad-ass witch the Quarter’s seen in ages. Second only, maybe, to Freya Mikaelson herself. And of course, I couldn’t forget about Davina. She’d carved her legacy here young, and with power that still echoed in the bricks of every building of this city.

The look in Freya’s eyes — and even Bekah’s — had me wondering if Vandalia might be more powerful than both Freya and Davina combined. And if that was true, it wasn’t just impressive — it was dangerous. Power like that always came with a cost. Davina taught me that. My wheels were turning, and the conclusion I was drawing wasn’t one I wanted to humor, much less accept.

Vandalia was tied by fate — not just to Elijah, Klaus, and Freya, but in some roundabout way, to all of us. Maybe even to New Orleans itself. Her last name was LaRue, but Freya was sure her magic came down the maternal line. And there was no way she belonged to the Garden District coven. 

Somehow, though, her power felt familiar to me. Her power felt older. Wilder. Like something the city hadn’t seen in centuries. That made the wheels turn even faster. There was no way she could be a Mikaelson herself and I don’t think Elijah would have stumbled across a Bennett witch in western Kentucky, although stranger things happen every day.

No. My mind kept coming back to her last name — LaRue. There was almost no history in this town richer than that of the LaRue family. I guess time would tell if Vandalia’s family tree intersected with the LaRue’s of New Orleans.

The uptick in activity between the witches, the wolves, and — unfortunately — my vampires… it couldn’t just be coincidence that all this kicked off right before Vandalia arrived, could it? Especially with Elijah being in her hometown for the reason he was. Vandalia certainly wasn’t the reason he was there, but she sure as hell gave him a good reason to want to stay.

As I’d told Vandalia — real coincidences are rare. Humans look for them everywhere, though. I’ve even heard some call them ‘Godwinks.’ I’m not without spirit myself. I believe in miracles — to a point. And in signs, too. To me, there was no greater proof of miracles than in the resurrection of Davina Claire. Not once, but twice.

Something deep inside told me Elijah meeting this young woman in Kentucky — then bringing her back here — wasn’t coincidence. Freya had been warning us for months that something was coming. And it wasn’t just Klaus’s paranoia kicking in anymore — even Elijah was starting to show cracks. The way he paced. The long stares into nothing. The edge in his voice when he spoke of our alliances. 

If the paranoia had continued on, I was afraid the Mikaelson’s might have completely unraveled — including my Bekah. They fed off of each other’s energy more than they might ever admit to. If something happened to one, it happened to all five of them. 

I couldn’t blame either of them. Freya was rarely wrong when she got ‘a feeling.’ You don’t live as long as the Mikaelsons have without making a million enemies. And Freya? She was almost certain that whatever was coming… it wasn’t going to be good. And if Freya was scared, we all damn well should be. 

Then I saw the sparks fly — real ones — between the young Kentucky witch and three of the Mikaelsons. Freya and Klaus looked calmer than they had in months. Was Vandalia what Freya had sensed? Was she good? Or… was this all just the calm before the storm? Was Vandalia LaRue a friend or was she a foe? Was she a gift from above for the three Mikaelsons or was she a warning sign?

“Don’t let the sound of your own wheels drive you crazy,” I muttered to myself. That’s exactly what I was going to do in this big, lavish house if I didn’t find something to keep my mind busy before Josh came by to square up on our pay arrangement. It was never just business with Josh, either — it was friendship. We hadn’t had a proper sit-down conversation in weeks.



I found myself down in the kitchen and making a fresh pot of coffee. I glanced at the breakfast nook and noticed the newspaper. I knew it would be the top headline of the front page. How could it not be? I decided I’d take it out to read while drinking my coffee.

With my coffee in hand and paper under my arm, I stepped out the French doors into a quiet outdoor courtyard. I sat down and scanned the front page a little more in-depth. It wasn’t news to me. I knew what the papers weren’t saying. Gas explosion in a waterside warehouse kills ten — yeah, it was no gas explosion.

It had been some time since the front page looked this grim. I didn’t like the memories it dragged up from the darker corners of my mind. I hadn’t meant to upset Vandalia earlier with the truth about Klaus, but she deserved to know all our stories. And all our stories involved him — for better or worse. 

Sometimes I could still feel Klaus’s hand around my heart — for a regular vampire like me, that’s about as close as you can get to death unless you walk out in the sunlight without your daylight ring. The look in his eyes, though? Even as I goaded him, told him to do it and get it over with — he loved me. In that moment, I was Marcellus, not Marcel.

I was at the top of my game when Klaus Mikaelson and the other Originals returned to New Orleans in 2013. I was the King of the Quarter — hell, it felt like I ruled the whole city. I’d solved our werewolf problem back in the early nineties, and more recently, I’d found a way to control the witches. Looking back now? I had no idea how fragile that crown really was. Some days I thanked Klaus for taking my kingdom, and on other days, I cussed him for it.

In hindsight, I wasn’t proud of how I kept the witches living in fear and achieved their silence. I was proud I rescued Davina, sure — but not of how I used her at first. When the Originals found out what I was doing — that I’d turned her into a secret weapon to keep the witches quiet — they called me out. Even the one who wanted to use her power for himself — Klaus. 

I didn’t want to believe it — not at first. I fought it for a long time. Hell, even now, I can barely say it out loud. But they were right. I saved that innocent little girl, protected her from witches who wanted to sacrifice her in something they called the ‘Harvest Ritual.’ But my protection came with a price: I used Davina as a pawn. And I’m still trying to forgive myself for that.

Klaus’s words were as fresh as the day he’d spoken them. They cut like a blade to my skin. ‘If this little witch means so much to you — so much that you would nearly get you and your men killed to rescue her, then why keep her locked in this pitiful little attic? Why not at the Abattoir where she can live like a princess? Davina deserves better. I’d make sure she lived like a Queen, wanting for nothing and painting her days away happily. After all, she’s the most powerful witch in all New Orleans — she deserves to be treated as such.’

As I told Klaus back then, the blood flowed freely and the party never stopped with me on the throne. Vampires ruled the city, and I owed that to two people — Brynne Deveraux, who helped me curse the Crescent wolf pack, and Davina Claire, such a powerful witch she scared even the strongest of the Deveraux line. 

I should’ve never gotten in bed with a Deveraux witch — figuratively speaking, of course. Brynne was my go-to throughout the eighties and early nineties. Now? I wish I’d never even met her. Not long after we cursed the Crescents, Brynne took a long walk off a short pier — if you catch my drift. Part of me still wonders if someone gave her a little push. But maybe that’s just wishful thinking. 

I didn’t really care back then, to tell you the truth — didn’t care that the Crescents would be stuck under that curse forever now that the witch who cast it was dead. They were the strongest wolf pack this city had ever known, and the Quarter had been theirs long before it was mine. Long before it was the Mikaelsons. Hell, the Crescents were here before the city even existed. This land was their home. 

Banishing them to the bayou? In some ways, it made them stronger. They built a real community out there. But in other ways, the isolation broke them down. Even so, they’d still wander into the Quarter now and then — and when they did, the night almost always ended in blood. Either one of them would start something… or one of my young, arrogant night-walkers would. We were natural enemies. Or maybe we just chose to be. 

I only started to care about the Crescents and the curse I’d damned them to forever after I got to know a few of them — one in particular that had escaped the curse completely. We had a bit of a history although, she was too little to recall it. Now that woman reigned as their Queen. Once again, the Crescents were the strongest wolf pack in all of New Orleans — like they always should have been. This time, they had a true Alpha and leader. Back when I cursed ‘em? He was a little kid.

Years passed, and I never expected a Deveraux witch to be at the center of this so-called ‘Harvest Ritual’ — or to want Davina back badly enough to summon an Original to New Orleans. Not one of them had set foot in this city since they ran in 1919. Nearly a full century. It didn’t feel real. Like ghosts stepping out of a storybook I’d already closed. 

Hell, I was starting to believe their father had finally killed them all. There was a short time I mourned each of them — none more than Rebekah. Then I started hearing whispers. That they’d survived. I told myself, ‘If they’re alive, they’ll come back to New Orleans.’ 

The years kept slipping by. They didn’t come back. And those whispers? They started to sound more like ghosts. Then, in the fall of 2011, I got word — the Original hybrid had turned up in a town called Mystic Falls, Virginia. Even more shocking? He’d broken his curse. He truly was the hybrid now. And for the first time in decades, I felt something I didn’t like: fear and uncertainty. 

Two years later, that Original hybrid came storming back into the Quarter like he still owned the damn place. He was looking for someone. And I knew exactly who — a Deveraux witch. A relative of Brynne’s. Her family still ran that little tavern in the Quarter, Rousseau’s. Jane-Anne could make a hell of a gumbo, I’ll give her that. 

Turns out, Jane had sent him a letter — asking for help with what was happening in New Orleans. But the real reason? They wanted to spark a war between me and Klaus. My sire. All to get Davina back. And you know what? It almost worked. Almost. I can still remember the look in Klaus’s eyes when he realized who’d been playing him. 

My retribution was swift — Klaus watched as I ended Jane-Anne Deveraux like it was just another Friday night in the Quarter. Shame she didn’t live long enough to serve him a second bowl of that famous gumbo. Her little sister, Sophie? She was an even bigger pain in my ass. Still can be, from time to time. Truth is, I haven’t seen her in quite some time. Mostly because Cami took over Rousseau’s after Jane-Anne’s death — and Sophie’s give-a-damn about the place was long gone. 

Can’t say I blame Sophie, I’d make myself scarce too after what her family had done. Brynne had helped me curse the Crescents and Jane-Anne had brought the Originals back to New Orleans after nearly a century away. Not to forget that little snafu of a prophecy…

Now that Cami’s gone from the Quarter — it was her, not Sophie, who chose who’d run the place in her absence. And I hate to break it to the Deveraux witches, but Cami O’Connell’s gumbo? Way better than theirs. Probably because it was made with love… not secrets and lies. Cami stirred that pot like it was her therapy. Maybe it was for a time. I hoped it could be again sometime soon.

Despite everything I did to protect her, D still had to die to complete the ritual. It was end-of-the-world stuff — otherwise, I’d never have let her go through with it. Even with the hope and promise that those sacrificed would rise again, I mourned her like she was gone for good. I lit candles for her every night like a damn priest. I was starting to become more of a familiar face at St. Ann’s Church than Father K himself!

I mourned that little girl twice. The second time she died, I truly believed it was forever. But when she came back? That’s when it hit me — in New Orleans, nobody stays dead. Or at least, it sure as hell feels that way. Kol Mikaelson — I’ve seen him come back twice. Finn? Three times. Both of them Originals who weren’t supposed to be able to die in the first place — but nature always had its loopholes.

Even the Mikaelsons’ own parents — Esther, the Original witch, and Mikael, the vampire who hunts vampires. Didn’t matter how many times Klaus personally put them down — they always managed to come back, somehow, some way. At this point, the afterlife should start charging them rent. If it weren’t for Davina dying twice and returning both times, I’d think it was just a Mikaelson thing. 

Ironically enough, Davina is a Mikaelson now. Hell, more of one than I ever was. I called Klaus my ‘father figure,’ and I’ve been knocking boots with Rebekah Mikaelson for close to two centuries. When they first took me in, I looked up to all three of them like role models. Klaus and Elijah both took on these… fatherly persona's. But Rebekah? She never pretended to be motherly — not even when I was just a boy. She treated me like something else entirely. Maybe she saw who I’d become before I ever did. 

I think it was because she knew I had a good mother — and lost her way too young. Maybe she also knew what lay ahead for our future. I’d caught glimpses of them long before they rescued me that fateful afternoon. 

The first time I saw her — gliding across the lawn of the Governor’s mansion, my childhood home — I could’ve sworn my heart stopped. Even as a kid, I knew I was looking at someone eternal. She was like an angel sent from the heaven’s — ethereal and untouchable.

I was barely old enough to understand the difference between a man and a woman — but I knew she was the most divine thing I’d ever seen. Unfortunately, she’d fallen for the Governor’s son, Emil. I was just a kid. She was never going to look at me like that — not back then. 

But as I got older? Rebekah saw exactly the kind of man I’d grown into. That desire — it was all over her face, and I saw it mirrored in those blue eyes. She finally felt for me what I’d felt for her all along. It took just shy of two centuries to get to the point we were at now — she was more than worth the wait.

I remembered everything when it came to Rebekah Mikaelson. Even now, with a coffee cup at my lips, I was so deep in memory I could swear I was feeling hers against mine — pillow-soft, just like the first time. I remembered how hard my human heart thudded, the pounding echoing in my ears. That kiss rewrote something in me. It wrote a different ending to my story. 



I could smell that moment. I could taste it. And I’d never forget it — or anything that came after. It all led us here. So no matter how hard some of it was, I wouldn’t take back a single second. Not even the times I swore I was living through hell. Bekah made it all worth it. And then some. 

‘We’ve made it as far as Biloxi. We’re almost home! I can’t wait to see you all!’ I glanced at my phone and couldn’t help but grin. Never thought I’d see the day I was excited to see Kol Mikaelson — but seeing Kol meant seeing Davina. And I’d always be excited to see her. Kol wasn’t too bad these days, either. D changed him. Made him better. No one else ever managed to pull that off. I guess the women we love just have that kind of power over us, don’t they?

‘Tell your husband to obey the speed limit this time. I’m not vamping out to Slidell just to deal with parish police. ;)’ Mostly a joke. Kol was an Original again, with the power of compulsion — he could take care of himself. Back when he and Davina first got together, though, it was a different story. He was stuck in the body of a witch — some kid named Kaleb. 

That was their first road trip together — the memory I was referencing. I still chuckled thinking about Kol telling me, ‘I owe ya one, mate.’ Nah. Kol and I weren’t mates back then. I only did it for Davina. I’d always do it for Davina, though. They both knew that.

Now? I didn’t hate him like I used to — that’s for damn sure. These days, I saw him as Davina’s husband more than I saw him as a Mikaelson. They’d been gone long enough, traveling the world, that he wasn’t the pain in my side he used to be. Back when Klaus would yank the dagger out of his chest for a day or two, just for kicks. Those were days long gone by.

For a few moments, I unplugged from everything and just let the moment wash over me. I took a deep breath — smelled beignets, coffee, cigarette smoke, a whiskey sour or two… and the blood of every human walking by. It all mixed together — old soul and fresh blood. Just like this city. It was a beautiful spring afternoon in the Quarter. Live jazz floated from nearly every street corner, and thanks to my hearing, I could make out the birds chirping above it all. 

I closed my eyes and drew in another breath. The sound of the Mississippi wasn’t far — a low, steady heartbeat a few blocks away. The calliope on the Natchez played its siren song, luring tourists onto her deck for an afternoon ride. And farther out, I caught the low churn of towboat engines, pushing coal and cargo up and down the mighty river. That river carried ghosts, same as this city. I just knew how to live among them. 

My eyes opened at the gentle rattle of the front gate. I made my way back to the coffee pot for a quick top-off — and poured a second cup for my guest — before vamping into the courtyard. Josh jumped at my sudden appearance, which made me smirk and chuckle. 



“You’ve been a vampire for a damn decade, boy, and you’re still gonna jump like that?” I teased. “Forgive me and my anxiety every time I walk into Château de Mikaelson. Trauma response, man.” There was a tiny hint of seriousness in Josh’s voice. Mostly? He was just joshing around. Pun intended. 

“My home is your home, brother,” I murmured, handing him the hot cup of coffee. “As much as Aidan would probably kill to live here and be treated to royal services, we kinda like our privacy. Although, working at Joe’s Record Shop doesn’t exactly pay for a palace.” 

As we talked, our feet carried us to a table in the courtyard — just a couple of chairs, some sunshine, and fresh coffee. “Ol’ Joe’s gotta get with the times, huh? It’s 2023. Records aren’t what they used to be.” Sad fact. I wasn’t sure what Joe was gonna do to survive the digital age, but he needed a new trick soon. 

“You’d be surprised, actually,” Josh said after a long sip. “When I first started, yeah — it was dead. Same regulars, mostly older folks. Hardly anyone my age, and definitely no one younger. Now? They’re starting to make a comeback.” 

“All the more reason for him to cough up some more dough. I can’t keep paying all you and your boyfriend’s bills, can I?” Josh’s cheeks turned pink — which only made me cackle harder. “I’m playin’ with you, man. I respect that you and Aidan carved out your own space, away from all the politics in the bayou and the Quarter. I actually like your place. Especially that pool. You know I’ll be using it this summer.” 

“The return of Saturday evening pool parties. Yes, sir,” Josh said with a mock salute. “Though… who knows what this summer’s got in store. I’ve got a gut feeling it ain’t gonna be as quiet as the last one.” I hated to say that out loud — it killed both our moods, at least for a few moments. The smile faded a little. Even Josh’s face shifted serious at that. 

“At least we’re a united front,” he offered. I nodded. “Yeah. Whatever’s going on, it ain’t coming from inside the house this time. We’re as united as we’ve ever been. Maybe more.” I knew those words wouldn’t land too deeply with Josh — he didn’t know Vandalia yet. Part of me wanted to tell him what I’d seen a few hours ago… but it wasn’t my story to tell. 

We drank our coffee in silence for a while. Josh could be just as introspective as me — I’d learned that over the years. I had a feeling he was replaying our past battles, just like I had before he showed up. I meant what I said to Bekah earlier — I never imagined that random, unfortunate kid would become one of my best friends. 

“I know I’ve said it before, but I’m still sorry your college years went to shit, Josh. Your first time in New Orleans and you lost your best friend… and your life… all in one night.” My words caught him off guard — but not in a bad way. “I was different back then. I saw you as just another foot soldier. A means to a justifiable end.” 

“I hated you for a long time. Although… I hated Klaus way more,” he chuckled. That had always been obvious. Josh’s death was on both our hands — but between the two of us, I’d been the better mentor. That much was true. “Davina helped. Her friendship meant a lot. And Cami... well, Cami had that psychologist thing going. It sure didn’t hurt none.”

We both laughed. “Aidan’s the one who pulled me out of that darkness,” Josh said. “I don’t even see that night as dying anymore. My human life? It was shit. I didn’t have a family — not since I came out. So honestly? Good riddance.” But I could still hear the hurt in his voice, no matter how he tried to mask it. “If anything, Marcel… I should thank you. You’re surprisingly one of the best friends a guy could have. Knowing Davina? Worth it. Having Aidan? Worth living this life ten times over.” 

Damn. Kid knew exactly which heart-string to tug. A lone tear brimmed in my eye, but I blinked it back. “I don’t know if I’d go so far as to say thanks,” I muttered, taking a long sip of coffee. Then I set the cup down and pulled my wallet from my back pocket. “But I can say thank you to you. Thank you for sticking around. For being a damn good friend — better than a guy like me has any right to.” 

We’d already talked numbers — but Bekah was right. Josh deserved more. Maybe a lot more. “Here’s what I promised for the others. Five hundred each,” I said, handing him the cash meant for the guys and their help during the cleanup last night. 

“But you?” I met his eyes. “You took the lead last night when I couldn’t. You and Aidan both did.” I pulled out another stack. “Consider this the start of a pay raise for you and Aidan both. His Alpha might complain Aidan’s making more, but you know I don’t give a shit. If he’s got a problem, he can bring his complaints straight to me.” It was playful banter — I knew he wouldn’t have a problem whatsoever.

When I handed Josh the two grand — a thousand each for him and Aidan — I thought he might actually faint. “I think I might have to quit Joe’s shop and work for you full-time again,” he mumbled, blinking like he was still registering the amount. “Sure beats the hell out of a nine to five, doesn’t it?” I teased. 

“I wouldn’t trade it for anything else, as surprising as that might sound,” Josh said, tucking the money into his inner jacket pockets. He slowly stood, finishing the last of his coffee, and I stood with him. “D’s probably gonna be here in an hour or so — if you want to stick around.” 

Josh gave me a look equal parts regret and apology. “I already promised Aidan we’d go out on a proper date this afternoon. Payday and all,” he teased. “I’m actually headed to the bayou now — gotta hand out the paychecks.” 

I chuckled at his choice of words. Even if I wasn’t King of the Quarter anymore, I guess I was still good at one thing — signing paychecks. “We’ll be here for Easter dinner, you know that. I’ll text Davina later and apologize for not sticking around. She’ll understand about the date.” 

“I’ll tell her when she gets here. Honestly, she’d probably have my head if I guilt-tripped you into staying instead of going out with your man. Don’t keep him waitin’,” I said with a playful grin. We exchanged what the younger generation might call a ‘bro hug,’ and just like that, Josh was gone with a wave. 

I sat back down at the courtyard table and got drawn into the world of Facebook. First post to pop up was from Freya — with Bekah and Vandalia tagged. Looked like Freya was making a ‘first move’ of sorts with the young witch. I spotted my beautiful Barbie-doll of a girlfriend in a few of the photos, and I couldn’t help but smirk. 

I was one lucky son of a bitch when it came to Rebekah Mikaelson. Don’t get me wrong — anyone would be jealous of Elijah, Klaus, and Freya… me included. To be with the same woman? Especially when that woman looked as delicious as Vandalia? If Bekah ever gave me permission for that kind of arrangement… hell, I’d think I finally died and went to heaven. 

“You’re playin’ with fire with thoughts like that, Marcel Gerard,” I muttered, slipping my phone back into my pocket. I drained the last of my coffee and decided to keep myself busy — a little of this, a little of that. Kol’s old room needed some touching up before they arrived. Most of it was already done, but I figured it wouldn’t hurt to give it one last pass — just for good measure. 

A wave of nostalgia overcame me when I came across Davina’s old painting supplies while working in their room. I reached for one of her charcoal sticks — it crumbled into powder at my touch. One of the tiny jars of paint still looked vibrant on the outside, but inside, the color had dried up. Davina could’ve used a little magic to bring them back to life… but she deserved better than having to use her magic for every little thing. 

It had been a decade since Davina lived in the attic of St. Ann’s Church, and yet I still recognized some of these paints and brushes. They were mixed in with a few that looked slightly newer, but most of it? Still the same supplies I’d bought her all those years ago. I was surprised she hadn’t tossed them long ago. 



Maybe a vampire’s sentimentality was starting to rub off on her — I wasn’t sure if it was mine or her husband’s. I had time to kill, so I pulled her old sketchbook out of the dresser drawer and started flipping through it. Most people wouldn’t catch it, but to me? Davina’s sketchbook told a story. 

It started before she was chosen for the Harvest. She kept sketching after she was selected — and even more once she was tucked away in the attic of the church. The drawings grew darker — nightmares and horrors. The ancestors tormenting her for not completing the ritual. Her magic growing more unstable by the day. 

Sometimes, Davina sketched as if she were seeing glimpses of the future — like the drawings were premonitions. After realizing this afternoon that Vandalia was a Clairvoyant, I knew Davina could help her with that. Something told me they’d become fast friends. 

One particular sketch hit me hard when I turned the page — the first one she’d done after being resurrected. Some might see only a blank page and miss the meaning. But I understood it. It was death — a void, pure nothingness. Yet in the shadows of that mostly blackened page, there was something more. Wisps of smoke. Whispers of hope. 

Davina had sketched everyone she loved — and near the front of the book was a beautiful portrait of me. I’d been her savior. And in a way, I guess I’d become a father figure to her. There were times — the same way Klaus once saw me as a son — that I found myself seeing Davina like a daughter. Mostly back when she was younger. 

Davina wasn’t that little girl anymore. She didn’t need me to be a father figure — not even a big brother. She had plenty of brothers-in-law for that. These days, I saw her more like a sister-in-law… even if I hadn’t worked up the nerve to pop the question to Rebekah — yet. D was my best friend, and I wasn’t ashamed to say it. She and Josh meant the world to me. Even more so after Cami had to step back and remove herself from our lives. 

The first Original she ever sketched was Elijah — fitting, since he was the first one she met in the attic of the church. Then came Rebekah, followed by a vicious, but undeniably accurate, portrait of Klaus. The first sketch of Kol? That one came during his Kaleb days. Her talent only grew sharper with every piece she created. 

I knew she and Kol loved traveling, and I’d never say anything to them outright — but Davina was missing out on a hell of an opportunity. She could’ve gone to a real art school. I remembered her once saying she wished she could just live a normal life, free from witchcraft. Even married to an Original vampire, I still believed that life was possible for her. Maybe not average — but still hers to build. 

Sometimes I wondered if Davina ever thought about those days as often as I did. Not the pain of them — but the survival. The fire in her. She hadn’t just made it out of that attic. She’d built something after it with Kol. And no matter what came next, I was damn proud of her. 

I slid Davina’s sketchbook back into the drawer and made a mental note to help her restock her supplies — if she’d let me. Klaus had plenty, I was sure. Maybe he’d be the first to offer her something while they were here for Easter weekend. That or a trip to the best arts and crafts shop in the Quarter wasn’t out of the question.



As I stepped out of their room, I glanced at my watch — surprised they hadn’t arrived yet. Back in the courtyard, I pulled out my phone to text something playful, like ‘Did he get another speeding ticket?’ But just as I was about to send it, I heard the rattle of the gate. 

With a wide grin, I couldn’t wait to catch up with D and even with Kol. Something gave me the feeling we were in for an incredible holiday weekend — and it was only just getting started.

(6,000 words -- roughly 25 pages.)

Notes:

Oh my gosh! I SO didn't mean to leave you all hanging as long as I did. In my last update, I mentioned that I *might* write a brand new Chapter 17, from yet another new point of view and I did! But this ISN'T the 17 I planned... that 17 is actually going to be the brand new 19!

If you've been following this story - I implore you to go back to the beginning and start over. I haven't changed the storyline or anything, don't worry about that. It's not *necessary* that you re-read. But I've made quite a few additions/revisions to chapters one through sixteen. Some chapters have up to 2,500 brand new words added!

The biggest change is - sixteen ended up a whopping 10,226 words so I've split it in half! So if the chapter after this one (18) looks familiar when I upload it in a week... it's because it's Part 2 of Chapter 16 (technically.)

Another big change - I've finally titled my chapters and added little epigraphs at the start of the chapters!

I hope you all have enjoyed this chapter from Marcel's point of view. I thoroughly enjoyed writing from his perspective. I love his character - I've even named a cat after him.

So as of right now, the story stats are this: 113,480 in 16 chapters for the word count. 3,228 hits/views/reads. 33 bookmarks (which includes one person who hatefully bookmarked the story with unkind comments. Like, why would you waste a bookmark if you hate the story so bad?) 29 subscribers!

I plan to update again next Sunday, and by then I'm hoping I'll have the brand new Chapter 19 finished which will be from yet another new point of view. I'm very excited to write in that persons POV.

Thanks again for reading! It means the world to me!

Chapter 18: Freya's Point of View

Summary:

“Warning: allowing Mikaelson women to shop unsupervised may result in extreme charges to your account — emotionally and financially.”

Chapter Eighteen:

Sprouting Sorority: Beignets, Leather, and Lace Pt. 2

We’d been excessively spending on my brothers dime for longer than I cared to admit. The early afternoon was beginning to fade and give way to the early evening hours, but we were nowhere close to stopping. There were too many cute boutiques left to go into and, well — the budget was kind of limitless.

Me and Becks had come to an agreement — Vandalia was having too good of a time to stop early or say no to any shop she wanted to go into. We’d stayed fairly close to the heart of the Quarter, the Jackson Square area. Now? We were broadening our horizons. Oh, it was still the Quarter. But block by block, we were getting further and further away from home.

Street musicians were still posted on every other corner, serenading tourists with jazz and blues in their typical French Quarter style. The smell of powdered sugar from the nearby Café du Monde clung to the warm air, mixing strangely with the sharp tang of river water that drifted in from the Mississippi.

We passed an old voodoo shop with windows dressed in candles and skulls. A sign out front read, “Fortunes told, secrets kept.” Rebekah scoffed, but Vandalia paused to peek inside like it was calling her name. 

“Have you ever had your fortune read, Vandalia?” I asked and she slowly shook her head. “I grew up being told all of this was just a bunch of Hocus Pocus. I’ve always been a believer in it, I definitely didn’t lie about that. I’ve dabbled with tarot and own a few decks that called out to me."

I was pleasantly surprised to learn that she had an interest in tarot. It was another way that her heritage had been calling out to her without her knowing it. "It’s funny because my readings were always so on point compared to others. Like spooky level accurate. The only other person I know that could lay out a tarot spread as accurately as myself is my best friend Dadie.”



Vandalia had mentioned Dadie quite a few times on our shopping trip already. As much as I wanted to be jealous, I was beginning to feel like she and Vandalia were kindred spirits and that perhaps I might truly enjoy a friendship with Dadie, too. 

“We could go in one day while you’re here if you’d like. I know the witch that runs it and she knows her craft. That or—,” I blushed slightly before continuing. “We could use my tarot cards at home. I’m fairly well versed in the art myself.” When I said this, Vandalia’s eyes widened as if she were excited at the opportunity.

“I’d love to watch you at work,” her voice sounded like a song, so richly layered with enthusiasm. “I trust you to read my fortune more than someone who doesn’t know me at all,” Vandalia added. I felt my cheeks redden further. There could be no higher compliment in my book.

Another street over, we stumbled into a preppy boutique—much more Rebekah’s vibe than mine, but hey, when in Rome. It was Vandalia’s day, and if she wanted to check out this store then she’d hear no objections from me. 

It didn’t take long to find a few cute outfits—and once again, we posed for a photo. Rebekah was definitely in her element here. My little sister was the definition of a Barbie doll come to life—only a million times more beautiful. And deadlier than Barbie could ever dream.

I’d once seen her snap a man’s wrist for smacking a waitress’s ass outside a French Quarter eatery. She didn’t even spill her drink. Just smiled, handed the girl a hundred dollars, and warned the guy she’d take the other wrist next time. “Don’t make me go full Mikaelson,” she’d said sweetly yet dripping with lethality. Iconic, really. 



“I like being girly sometimes,” Vandalia said softly, tugging at the low-cut green top she’d found. It matched her eyes perfectly. “I guess girly isn’t the worst,” I muttered, tugging awkwardly at the pink sweater I was stuffed into. 

It was baby pink. Like, newborn nursery pink. And it had little pearls sewn into the cuffs although it was a subtle detail. Rebekah said it ‘softened my edge.’ I argued that it made me look like a cupcake. A very confused, very uncomfortable cupcake. But Vandalia had lit up when I walked out of the fitting room, and for some reason, that made it almost worth it. 

“Dear sister, you’ve never looked better,” Rebekah grinned, twirling once in a white lace camisole. “I’ve just always felt out of place trying to be more feminine,” Vandalia admitted. “I have this deeper voice and thick Southern drawl. I’m not good at doing my makeup, and I feel like I’m not overly obsessed with my hygiene and whatnot. I’m that girl who doesn’t care if her legs are perfectly shaved, ya know?” 

“Same,” I said, nodding in agreement. “I’m not unclean or unkept, don’t get me wrong,” Vandalia added, making me laugh. “Of course not. But you’re a tomboy, of sorts. A bit like myself,” and I was glad about that. I knew I’d never have to worry about Vandalia shying away from getting her hands dirty. 

“I bounced around a lot in school—before I got homeschooled. I had friends in every clique, pretty much. I fit in most with the outcasts, though. The ‘emo’ or ‘scene’ kids. I had cheerleader friends — Rebekah’s type, based on her looks,” she stated. “I had bookworm friends. At first glance, I would’ve pegged you as that type,” she said, turning to me now. 

I smirked at the bookworm comment. Not wrong. A thousand years ago, under Dahlia’s curse and her watchful eye, I found solace in the academia of her grimoire and other witches local to our small village.

Nearing a decade ago when I awoke from my last slumber, I was at odds with my siblings until we’d made peace. We got to know one another, and they helped me break Dahlia’s hold on me. 

Still, the bookworm in me never went away. I found myself, when my emotions would become too much, disappearing into the worlds of books. There was so much literature I’d missed out on during my long slumbers. I still loved to read and the library of my brothers became one of my favorite rooms in the Abattoir. 

One could perhaps describe me at times as ‘the weird witch girl with her nose in a book,’ and they’d be correct. I didn’t mind that label, though. In fact, I would wear it proudly with a deadly shade of red lipstick — the Mikaelson in me coming out.

“I think I’d have put you with the outcast crowd too, at first glance,” I admitted. “But I’m glad to know there’s a brain behind all that beauty.” And just like that, she flushed pink again. I loved when I made her do that. It was beginning to come more and more naturally. 

Once again, we used Elijah’s card as we rang up and headed to the boutique right across the road. I had to admit—this next one wasn’t really Rebekah’s vibe or mine. But we humored Vandalia. 

“This is my kind of place,” she said with a laugh. “I know, I know. Goth girl with cowgirl vibes—it’s the accent, isn’t it?” Vandalia said with a grin. “That’s the understatement of the year, darling,” Rebekah teased. “The Beth Dutton vibes in this place are real,” Vandalia started to pull away from me and Rebekah.

Vandalia made a beeline for a rustic looking, yet colorful, blouse and complementing pair of blue jeans with a cowgirl hat. Rebekah turned her nose up at the boots until she found a black pair with silver studs and snake embroidery — “more haute couture than honky-tonk,” she announced. 

I was more skeptical. But then I caught my reflection in a mirror, wearing a wide-brimmed hat and a rather colorful blouse, too. I didn’t hate it. I looked like someone who could burn your village down and not spill her bourbon. Beth Dutton would be proud. 

Even I’d watched Yellowstone—and it was hard not to feel like such a strong and beautiful cowgirl in clothes like this. Cowgirl hats, cowgirl boots, belts with huge buckles. It could totally be a vibe. 



“We should totally roleplay a saloon brawl,” Vandalia grinned, tipping her hat low over one eye. “I’ll be the misunderstood outlaw who drinks straight from the bottle and rides alone.” I liked the thought of that, honestly. 

“I’ll be the wealthy heiress with a pistol in her garter and blood on her hands,” Rebekah added without hesitation. “And I’m the local herbalist the town secretly fears is a real witch, but always comes to when things go to hell,” I smirked. 

“That’s much too obvious, darling. You could be the owner and operator of the best bar and brothel in town looking the way you do, sister. A provocateur, our brothers might call you,” Rebekah murmured while winking at me. We each laughed so hard I nearly knocked over a display of belt buckles. 

When our laughter calmed down, I couldn’t help but flirt with the woman I was falling head over heels for. “It’s kind of amazing how you keep finding the perfect shade of green to match your eyes,” I murmured to Vandalia. “And for a girl who claims to hate pink, look what color you picked again,” she teased—and this time, it was my cheeks that flushed. 

I looked down at the soft pink fabric again, then back at her, and couldn’t stop the smile tugging at my lips. “I think you’re a bad influence,” I said. “Oh, sweetheart,” she drawled while intentionally thickening her Southern accent, green eyes glinting. “You haven’t even seen what I’m like when I’m really trying to be bad.” My knees nearly buckled. 

Vandalia might have said earlier — ‘if Rebekah wasn’t waiting on us,’ but it was clear to me that she really didn’t care if Rebekah was around or not. She’d mentioned that lovers in her past had hidden her by mentioning the words ‘dirty little secret.’ With my Facebook post, I proved to her she would never be my dirty secret. This? This type of interaction I felt like was Vandalia’s way of showing me that I would never be her secret, either.

“You’re like a real-life Kelly—the actress who plays Beth. She’s British, you know,” Vandalia told Rebekah, who let out a short, barking laugh. “I suppose we spent a bit too much time in England—around the English, and their descendants once they crossed the pond. Personally, I prefer this over a Norwegian accent,” Rebekah admitted with a shrug. 

“I feel like the odd one out a lot of the time. I don’t think I lived in civilization for long enough periods to develop an accent.” It felt like a bit of a letdown—Vandalia had this stunning Southern belle accent, Rebekah the British beauty vibe… and I was just a Plain Jane, voice-wise. 



“But I love your voice—even if it’s not accented,” Vandalia said, leaning in and surprising me with a kiss. “I—I love your voice too,” I whispered against her lips, looping my arms around her neck and playing with her dark hair.

I didn’t mean to sound so glum. But sometimes I felt like a blank slate — like my voice, my habits, my sense of humor had all been left behind in a century I could barely remember. My siblings had whole centuries of memories, accents, and affectations. I had… sleep. Nothingness. But then Vandalia leaned in and kissed me, and the ache dulled. Her warmth chased the quiet away like sunlight through a locked room. 

“I’ve always hated my accent—and this deep voice,” she murmured against my lips. “I don’t have the most feminine voice myself,” I reminded her in a murmur of my own. I felt Vandalia nip at my bottom lip which made a chill run down my spine. “That’s exactly what I love most about yours,” she purred. 



When we pulled back from one another, Vandalia laughed quite heartily. “The funniest thing’s going to happen in the next few days—you two will get a real kick out of it. Being around a British accent so much, I’ll start catching myself using it, too. Believe it or not, hang around me and this thick-ass accent long enough, and y'all will start talking like me.” 

“Oh, please, darling. I’ve been around every accent under the sun for over a thousand years. I’m a tougher nut to crack,” Rebekah said with a knowing smirk. “I’d like to hear you with a proper posh accent though,” she added while making her accent even thicker. 

“All I have to do is binge Downton Abbey for a day, and boom—I’ve got it,” Vandalia said, and Rebekah and I both burst out laughing. “I never would’ve pegged you for a Downton Abbey fan,” I admitted, surprised.

“It’s my all-time favorite show,” Vandalia declared. “I’ve probably watched every episode two or three hundred times.” Rebekah and I both were surprised at that confession. I couldn’t imagine watching the same television program that many times. It spoke volumes on just how much Vandalia loved the show. 

“Well… maybe I’ll have to give it another shot. I tried years ago, but I never made it past the first few episodes.” I was a bit embarrassed to tell her that now, knowing she was such a fan. 

Vandalia’s eyes lit up immediately. “We have to do a Downton Abbey marathon! Oh my word, you’ve just made my life. But also—I kind of want to throw you in the Mississippi for quitting after a few episodes. It gets SO much better.” I could tell, she was absolutely ecstatic. 

Rebekah and I both cracked up at her sheer enthusiasm. Her words—you’ve just made my life—played over and over in my head. Had I really? Just by saying we could binge a show together? Being with Vandalia already felt easier than just about anything else in my life ever had. 

You’ve just made my life. The words echoed in my chest like a well practiced spell. How long had it been since I made someone’s day, let alone their life? Not through magic, not through obligation, not because I’d saved the world or crafted the perfect potion — but just by being me. 

I watched her, cheeks pink with joy, eyes glowing. And for the first time in… I don’t even know how long, I thought: maybe this isn’t temporary. Maybe I get to keep her. I’d never prayed so hard for anything in my entire life.

We made our way to the register and paid for all our Western swag using my brother Klaus’s credit card. By this point, we were absolutely buried in bags. “I don’t want to stop yet, but I know we’ve bought too much,” Vandalia said, juggling about seven bags between both hands.

“Let me show you a neat little trick,” I said with a grin, steering us into a quiet alleyway between two buildings. I couldn’t wait to show Vandalia a bit more magic—even if it was simple by my standards. Placing our bags in front of myself on the ground, I slipped my eyes shut and put my hands out in front of me. “Phasmatos lacus.” When I opened my eyes, the bags were gone.

Vandalia squeaked. “W-where did it all go?!” I suppose I should have explained how it was going to work before I did the spell. She probably thought I’d just lost every bit of our hard-earned haul, generously paid for on my brothers' dimes. 

“It’s just an object teleportation spell. Everything we bought is now safe and sound back in our bedrooms at the compound. Which means... we can keep shopping—until we drop,” I said, grinning.

“I-I wanna try that sometime. Maybe with something less precious, though. Like… relocating fruit to different rooms,” she offered, and I nodded. “Honestly, that’s a really smart idea for a beginner.” I was surprised at how logical she was when it came to this magic thing. 

The next shop we found ourselves going into was a cute little romantic boutique. The boutique had racks of dresses that made Vandalia gasp the second we walked in. “I promised Elijah and Klaus they could take me dress shopping.” With her hand going to her mouth, I noticed her biting on her lower lip, looking as if we shouldn’t be in here. 

“I hate looking at dresses without them,” she whispered, turning away. I reached out and placed a hand on her shoulder. “They’ll take you to much nicer dress shops, trust me,” I nudged her towards a beautiful white evening gown. 

“You should try it on—I’ve never seen you wear white. Yet.” Slowly, she reached out and took the dress in a size she felt would fit off of the hanger and headed into the dressing room. 

While she slipped into the dressing room, Rebekah and I browsed and picked out a few stunners of our own. I couldn’t help but let my mind wander on that white dress she’d disappeared to try on. It wasn’t exactly the style one would call a wedding dress— it was more suited to this thing called ‘prom’ that I’ve heard so much about. 

Regardless of the style, the color made me think of weddings. It brought back memories of Kol and Davina’s special day. I could feel my cheeks turning a shade of pink at the thought of what a gorgeous bride Vandalia might make one day. 

Then, a small knot started to form deep in my gut. Which one of my brothers would she marry? Or… would she marry me? I recalled breakfast a few hours ago, Vandalia very insistent that she was going to make this work between us. That none of us would feel left out or alone, there was enough of her to be shared amongst the three of us. 

I believed that. I truly did. At least, I believed it for now. What about in two or three years when one of us works up the nerve to ask her for her hand in marriage? What about in five or seven years when she’s walking down the aisle — which one of us would be at the alter, waiting to gaze down into her beautiful green eyes and say ‘I do’ with her.

“Freya, darling, you seem miles away,” my little sister murmured. Rebekah was right. I’d picked a dress from a hanger and had disappeared to a dressing room to try on, and was now wearing it — yet I didn’t recall putting it on whatsoever. My mind had been too focused on what Vandalia was going to look like in that white gown to care even just a little bit what I was going to look like in the dress I’d chosen.

“I’m sorry,” I apologized to Rebekah who offered a gentle smile. “It isn’t the first time in the last handful of years that you’ve gone away and come back all within a matter of minutes.” Yet again, she was right. This was a habit of mine. I think todays generation referred to it as ‘zoning out.’ 

Before I could elaborate on just what all I’d been thinking, Vandalia returned. Just as I knew she would be, she was elegant and stunning in that breathtaking white evening gown. The three of us posed once more for a photo in dresses that were simply to die for. 



“I thought I’d be too pale for white,” Vandalia admitted and Rebekah laughed. “You’re pale, darling—but not ghost white, no matter what you might think. Pink again, big sister?” I blushed when she pointed that out. “Hey—you stole Vandalia’s color,” I shot back. “Honey, I’ve been wearing this color before her thirtieth great-grandmother was born,” Rebekah rebutted. 

“Look at us—absolutely killing the cleavage game today,” Vandalia teased. I couldn’t help but notice at that moment, she was right. Everything we’d tried on today, well, for the most part anyway — we’d been busty queens. I was honestly surprised that I had appeared to be as large in the chest as I was today in everything I’d tried on — unlike Vandalia and Rebekah, I hadn’t been graced with a large cup size. 

“I have a feeling my brothers are going to love your little fashion show tonight,” I murmured and Vandalia bit down on her lower lip in shyness once again. “I-I’m kind of looking forward to giving them a show,” she whispered, cheeks flushing. “You know you’re invited, too.” That made me smile. I had hoped she’d invite me to the intimate soirée. 

“Still here, by the way,” Rebekah said, pretending to cover her ears. “Oh, please, Becks—like you and Marcel wouldn’t pop some popcorn and tune in,” I teased her. “We might, if I wasn’t afraid he may decide to swoop her up and disappear with her for a night or two,” Rebekah laughed but I could tell she was serious. “Can’t say I’d blame him. Vandalia is rather stunning,” she added with a glance her way. 

“No worries there,” Vandalia said as a bit of a grin started to pull at her lips although her cheeks were still tinting pink. “I’ve got a feeling Klaus would fillet him like a fish if he even thought about it.” Although Becks and I laughed — I had a sneaking suspicion that Vandalia was right. 

I knew without a shadow of a doubt that the only reason my brother Nik was being so cool, calm, and collected with this situation we were in involving Vandalia; it was only because he was sharing Vandalia with Elijah and me. If another party tried to join in on this poly-cube, if that’s what you wanted to call it — I was afraid Vandalia was right, it would end up deadly. 

“Plus,” Vandalia whispered, blushing quite heavily as she spoke. “I think Freya, Elijah, and Klaus, that’s about as many as I can split myself between. I-I’m still hoping there’s enough of me to go around. I-I’m afraid I might disappoint one of you. Or all of you,” she whispered, her voice catching at the end. I immediately shook my head. “You’ll never see an ounce of disappointment from me. I promise.” 

I knew I couldn’t speak for Elijah or Nik. But if any of us were going to feel disappointed—or worse, abandoned—it would be Niklaus. He was used to having his cake, eating it too, and never being told no. He was the King of New Orleans, after all. And if he did feel denied, it wouldn't come out as sadness. It’d come out as rage—or recklessness. We all knew that pattern by now. 

I’d seen it before — the way Klaus turned his hurt into a wildfire and set the whole goddamn world on fire just to feel like he had some resemblance of control again. I’d seen it more times than I’d like to admit in less than a decade, and I could only imagine how many times Rebekah had seen it in a thousand.

But I’d also seen the other side of Klaus, too. The boy who looked up at me, centuries ago, when he didn’t know if I was real or a dream. They were dreams — mine and his. I’d dreamed of all my siblings, even the ones I had never met. I wasn’t even sure how I knew more existed after Elijah since our mother was pregnant with him when I had been taken by Dahlia.

It spoke volumes to the connection we all share that I knew each of my younger siblings without actually knowing them. After I came into their lives, after we’d tried to kill one another a half dozen times at the very least — I started to get to know the other side of Klaus a bit more intimately. 

I recalled nights that he’d scream out in pain and I’d rush into his bedroom only for him to come apart in my arms. It had been a nightmare indeed — our youngest brother, Henrik, dying in his arms all over again. I knew how to talk him down from the ledge. Somehow, I’d been able to do so rather easily since we stopped trying to kill each other and instead embraced each other, as siblings should.

And maybe that’s why this scared me more than I ever wanted to admit. Because part of me… part of me wanted him to fall apart over me. And that was a dangerous kind of want. A hundred years ago — the second I met Klaus’s blue eyes on the staircase, my heart had stumbled over itself. It stumbled, in a way, for each of my siblings — but there was something about Niklaus, and in equal measure, there’d always been something about Elijah.

I saw the worry still flickering in Vandalia’s beautiful green eyes, like candlelight in the wind. Gods, I hated that she carried this kind of weight on her shoulders — the kind that whispered she wasn’t enough, or worse, too much. 

I cupped her cheek gently and leaned in so only she could hear me. “You’re not a pie, Vandalia. You don’t need to be sliced up and served. You’re whole. And you’re ours.” Her breath hitched, and I knew then — I meant every word. Even if the world split open, I would never let her feel like anything less than a miracle to me.

Boutique after boutique, shop after shop—we kept trying on clothes and buying a few things from each. Next up, a place called Sleek Chic. Everything was a bit too preppy for my taste. Sleek Chic was all pastel sweaters, stiff collars, and the kind of headbands that looked like they belonged at a country club brunch.

That said, Rebekah managed to find us some outfits that weren’t pastels but more ‘grayscale’ meets ‘chic.’ Of course, we could only try those on after we tried on a half dozen pastel outfits for her amusement.

We posed in front of a mirror for a photo. I was happier with how we looked now, devoid of bright colors and distractions. “This would be a cute outfit for a library day in the winter,” said Vandalia. “It is a bit warm and stuffy, isn’t it?” I asked. “The other outfits were made from much cooler fabrics, dear sister,” mused Rebekah. I merely rolled my eyes.



Next, we wandered into a boutique with a more casual vibe—soft cottons, cozy knits, and easy silhouettes. Vandalia hugged herself in a denim jacket and whispered, “there's always been something so comforting about denim jackets to me." 

I felt like there might be a story there; maybe a memory of someone, with someone... but I didn't want to pry for information. Instead, I quietly admired the way she looked in denim. It suited her — more than she realized.

As we posed for a photograph in front of yet another full size mirror, I couldn’t help but be reminded of someone as I gazed upon Vandalia. Hayley. With her dark hair and the denim jacket, she reminded me a lot of the Crescent Queen. I wondered if Rebekah thought similarly but, we were at the register and out the door before I could get the question out.



Then came a boutique with an entirely different energy—corporate chic, or as the tag on the window read, “Power Looks for Powerful Women.” I never thought a blazer could make me feel dangerous. But as I caught my reflection in the mirror, I finally understood Elijah’s obsession with a good suit. The structure, the weight of it—it was like armor with lapels.

Vandalia was a self-employed business woman, I knew that much about her. This kind of attire? It showed the world that she was successful with her business. Rebekah? This wasn't the type of thing my little sister wore at all, and yet it made her appear deadlier than ever. When the thought crossed my mind, I couldn't help but hear it in Nik's voice: Power is seductive, attractive; exquisite.  



Then came a vintage-style boutique—walking through the door felt like stepping into the late 1800s. Vandalia affectionately referred to the style as “Little House on the Prairie” days. I had to admit to her, I wasn’t familiar with the books nor the television show. Once again, it seemed like I’d made her day — something else she wanted to introduce me to soon. 

As we were trying on outfits, I could almost see myself with lace gloves and a parasol, wandering through the French Quarter as if I owned it. It made me ache with regret. If I could have been with my siblings instead of under Dahlia's curse, I could have owned it. Vandalia didn't know my whole story yet. In a lot of ways, it was more tragic than the story of my siblings. 

Theirs may seem worse because of the blood-lust and the things they've had to endure to survive but the cold truth was: they were alive even if it was as the undead. My heart may have been beating, but I was frozen in time until I was allowed to awaken. As these thoughts crossed my mind, I realized that, in some sick twisted way, I was daggered. Maybe I could relate to Finn, Kol, Elijah, and Rebekah more than I ever thought before. 

We each spent too much of our life inside a casket, suspended in time. Time we could never get back. At least they'd been together, though. I was all alone except for my years with Dahlia. I preferred the loneliness than being with her.



I was a firstborn Mikaelson witch with an infinite amount of power and at times, I wanted to go back in time and spend days with my siblings throughout the thousand years we were separated. I wanted to spend a day with them in the countryside of France, or even the Elizabethan era of England. I wanted to spend a day with them right here in New Orleans, maybe a day from each year I'd missed out on. 

Once more we posed in front of a mirror. I’d seen photographs of old New Orleans — women wearing this very sort of dress. There was something maternal about it, something old and beautiful. Simplicity, serendipitous even.



As we left the vintage boutique, bags swinging at our sides, I found myself walking a little slower—letting Rebekah and Vandalia step ahead of me for a moment. I just wanted to take it all in. The sun was starting to dip lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the cobblestones and warming the storefront windows with a soft, amber glow. 

Laughter spilled from the open doorways of cafés and bistros. Musicians played on the corner, their saxophones and guitars weaving a familiar New Orleans magic through the air. This city had always been ours—at least, it had been my siblings for much, much longer than it has been mine.

But this day felt like it was mine in a way few ever had. Not because of the shopping bags in my hands, or the cards that belonged to Klaus and Elijah. But because of the two women walking just ahead of me. They didn’t know it, not fully—but they were helping me reclaim something today. Something stolen from me long before any of us ever had a say.

Time. Laughter. Sisterhood.

I used to wonder if I’d ever get to be part of it. If I’d always be the outsider looking in. But today? Today felt like being let into the warmth of the house after centuries spent watching through the window.

Rebekah turned over her shoulder and caught me staring. “What are you doing back there, darling?” She teased, but her voice was gentle. “Having a moment with the ghosts of years long gone by?”

I smiled. “Something like that.” I wasn’t sure I could put how I was feeling into words that Rebekah would understand. Plus, I didn’t want to cast a shadow over such an incredible day with the two of them.

Vandalia slowed her pace until she was beside me again. “You alright?” She asked quietly, threading her fingers through mine. I felt my heart skip a beat or two at such a simple notion — laced hands walking down the sidewalk of the town I’ve never felt more at home in.

“I’m… I’m really happy,” I admitted, and the words surprised even me. My voice cracked just a little on the last syllable, but I didn’t care. “I don’t think I’ve truly ever known what this felt like before today. At least, not to this depth.”

Vandalia leaned her head against my shoulder for a step or two. “Well, get used to it. I’m making it my mission to give you a million more days like this.” My throat burned with emotion. I squeezed her hand gently. “Make it a million and one.” My voice was more of a coo than perhaps it had ever sounded before.

After such a heartfelt moment with Vandalia, and a bit of teasing from my sister — we slipped into a shop that was more free-spirited: Boho, short for Bohemian, as Vandalia taught me. Loose fabrics, earthy tones, and the kind of jewelry that looked handmade but magical. It suited her, this wild, earthy elegance. She looked like a forest nymph who’d stumbled into a Paris runway show. 

It reminded me of the sixties vibes from the first boutique we'd shopped in. It was different in its own charming and unique way. It didn't take long at all before me and Rebekah were fully engrossed with this new style. 



Our next boutique was all edge and attitude—black denim, ripped tees, and leather everything. This was definitely more up mine and Vandalia’s alley. Even Rebekah looked like she belonged on the back of a motorcycle. We looked fierce and dangerous.

“Oh, I do like this,” Rebekah said, admiring herself in a fitted leather jacket. “I’ve always had a thing for leather. Man or woman, doesn’t matter. Just the smell,” Vandalia murmured as she slipped a leather jacket onto herself. The moment she zipped up that leather jacket, I swear the air changed. She wasn’t just beautiful—she was dangerous. 

The look Vandalia gave Rebekah in the mirror was the kind that made my heart stutter—not because I was jealous, but because I knew what it felt like to be seen that way. And when her eyes shifted to me, it hit even harder. I knew right then, I had to try on some leather. I needed Vandalia to gaze at me with that kind of look.



As I slipped on the leather jacket and the strong scent of it swirled under my nose, I blushed when I noticed the look on Vandalia's face as she watched me. The gaze Rebekah had earned from Vandalia was nothing compared to the one she now looked at me with. 

“Pair this with the outfit from that Goth shop earlier and I swear, Freya…” Her voice was husky, her arms sliding around my waist as she pressed close behind me. I enjoyed her embrace for longer than I might admit out loud. Then I returned the favor to her, pulling her into my arms from behind, savoring how it felt.



"Imagine the looks on our suitors’ faces if we walk in tonight wearing these,” Becks said, snapping a picture with a wicked grin. “Marcel might not let you leave the house,” I teased, and she smirked. “That’s the idea.” I had a feeling she’d be donning one of these outfits for Marcel soon and that he would be surprised at the transformation of his long-time girlfriend. To the point that perhaps he wouldn't even recognize her.

“I think we might drive my brothers mad. I know I’m almost there myself,” I whispered as I tightened my hold on Vandalia. At first, I brushed my lips across her cheek — then I felt her lips brush my cheek like a spark catching dry kindling. In a gentle fluid-like motion, suddenly I was the one being held from behind once more. The way she now lingered behind me—I could feel her heartbeat as if it were my own. 

Then I felt her unwind her arms from around me and noticed the grin on her lips. “We’re buying a small fortune in here too, then,” she said—and judging by her tone, she was dead serious. Vandalia was getting more comfortable with spending a bit of our Mikaelson dime and I wasn't going to complain. If Niklaus or Elijah tried to say even one word about how much was spent today, I'm sure me and Rebekah would put them in their place real fast.

I loved seeing this side of Vandalia—confident, cheeky, utterly uninhibited. Every hour that passed, she was unfolding like a spell cast right before my eyes. Neither of my brothers would dare to complain if they could see her as she was right now. In fact, I think they'd even enjoy seeing Rebekah and me like this: happy and carefree.

There was something alchemical about watching Vandalia come into her own—like each outfit was unlocking a different aspect of who she’d always been underneath. Some women tried on clothes to become someone else. Vandalia tried them on and just revealed more of herself. She didn’t need transforming. She only needed to feel safe enough to unfold. And today? She was surrounded by women who loved her. 



I caught a glimpse of us in the floor-length mirror—three women dressed in leather and confidence, lit up from within. We looked like trouble. The beautiful kind. Rebekah struck a pose and Vandalia laughed—an honest, musical laugh that lit up the room in a way no overhead fixture ever could. 

I could already see it. The moment we’d walk through the door of the compound, bags in hand, cheeks flushed from the day. Klaus’s nostrils would flare at the scent of leather and floral perfume. Elijah would tilt his head like he’d just witnessed something holy. And the look on their faces when they realized we were glowing—not just dressed to kill, but lit up with joy?

It would ruin them in the best possible way. And I couldn’t wait. 

At the next shop, Vandalia insisted we try on wigs and experiment with different makeup styles. I was game to let her style me however she pleased, but Rebekah took a little more convincing. This wasn’t exactly a look my sister would’ve chosen for herself—and honestly, I was right there with her. Still, I liked the way Vandalia's hands moved—delicate, decisive. Like she could see something in me I hadn’t considered before.



“Back in middle school and high school, my friends and I dressed like this,” Vandalia said, pulling up old photos on her phone from Facebook. The photos were grainy and sunlit, full of teased hair, dark eyeliner, and too many rubber bracelets. Vandalia looked younger—but not unrecognizable. Just a little less guarded. A little more wild. 

There was still something in her eyes, a flicker of something and I recognized it. Pain. Hurt. A young lady who'd seen and been through too much already at too tender of an age. Maybe Vandalia was more Mikaelson material than I'd realized.

“I could see going to some kind of early 2000s party like this,” I admitted. “I guess I could survive a concert dressed like this, maybe,” Rebekah mumbled. “I feel ridiculous though,” she added. “You don’t look ridiculous, trust me,” Vandalia said, eyeing her approvingly. 

“If you’d gone to high school with me from about 2007 to 2011, all the boys would've been all over you.” The compliment, unsurprisingly, did wonders for Rebekah’s vanity. “Reminds me of some teenagers I saw in Mystic Falls years ago,” Becks said with a smirk. 

Mystic Falls. A town that had seen the best and worst of my siblings. Vandalia had no idea how much history lived there. One day, maybe we’d tell her the truth of it. If I knew Vandalia yet at all, I know she’d love the cemeteries. The witch history. And if Damon Salvatore was there—God help us all. Vandalia LaRue seemed to have a type and that type was a bad boy. Damon? He ranked right up there with my brother, Nik. 



“I’ve been thinking about coloring my hair again,” Vandalia said, a little out of the blue but I knew it was because of the wigs we'd been trying on. “I love my black hair, I do—but a few years ago I had it dyed. Blue, mostly. Sometimes purple. I kind of miss it.” She scrolled through her phone and showed us the old photos—one with vibrant cotton candy curls, another with plum colored hair tussled in soft waves. It suited her, that wild hair. It matched the chaos she kept so carefully tucked beneath her calm exterior.



"You could pull off any color you wanted,” I said softly. She laughed. “I don’t know about that. Can you imagine me with cotton candy pink?” I actually could—and weirdly, it kind of worked. At least in my imagination.



“Blue and green are definitely my favorites. Even though purple’s my favorite color, I’ve never found the right shade in hair dye.” Although her eyes were as green as emeralds, the blue hair made her eyes seem brighter. Bolder. Like someone who’d walked through fire and made it out the other side with stars in her hair.

“I personally think you look stunning with your dark locks,” Rebekah said. “But I’ll admit—wigs are fun. You could have a different one for every day of the week. My dear siblings would never know what version of you they were waking up to.” The three of us giggled but Rebekah wasn't wrong. Between Vandalia's charm, her magic, and now the possibility of seven alter egos—Vandalia might just out-Mikaelson the rest of us.

“I imagine Marcel might like you as a redhead, little sister,” I teased. Rebekah grinned. “I bet I could terrorize him with it,” she said in a sing-song voice, clearly delighted by the idea. It was nice to see her like this—laughing, loose, just a little unhinged. She’d needed it more than she’d ever admit. Even without New Orleans being in a state of constant crisis, we stayed much too serious all the time. It was nice to be so at ease today with Vandalia.



As we took turns snapping selfies in the mirror—Rebekah with fiery red waves, me in silvery lavender curls, Vandalia with electric blue locks—I found myself laughing harder than I had in ages. Not the polite kind of laugh I’d learned to mimic in courtly company, but the real kind. The kind that cracked open the ribs. 



“God, I look like a fairy queen who fell into a Hot Topic,” I said, brushing the wig from my eyes. Vandalia doubled over in laughter. I knew my bringing up the shop she’d just talked about would cause her to giggle, but I didn’t expect the side-busting laughter that came from her. But even through the silliness, I felt something sharp beneath the surface. 



When I looked at Vandalia, I couldn’t help but wonder—how many versions of herself had she had to become to survive? How many colors had she worn as armor? How many smiles had been masks? I knew that kind of shape-shifting too well. We all did, in our own way. Maybe that was part of why she fit so well with us.

Vandalia paid for our ‘Hot Topic’ style clothing with my brother Niklaus’s credit card and we left the store perhaps more jubilant than we’d been all afternoon. I couldn’t speak for Rebekah but I found myself truly enjoying the style of clothing once I’d tried so many outfits on. The wigs? They made me feel like I could be anyone I wanted to be. I never thought a lump of fake hair could do so much for a person, but I’d seen it in the way Vandalia had come alive. 

Despite having extremely beautiful raven hair, she loved having colored hair. It didn’t matter the color that she tried on: blue, red, pink, blonde — she looked stunning in every single color. More than that, they lifted her spirits and her self-esteem. When we complimented her, I felt like she actually accepted the compliments instead of a wave of disbelief overcoming her.

Like Rebekah, I found myself preferring the idea that Vandalia wore a wig instead of dyeing her dark hair. However, seeing how beautiful and dare I say — powerful — she looked with a wig on… I knew I’d help her dye her hair whatever color she wanted, so long as it brought a smile to her face. My brothers’ might grimace at first, but once they saw the photos from today — I knew they’d support her, too.

The last shop we found ourselves entering was another world entirely—upscale, exclusive, the kind of boutique that catered to celebrities and the ridiculously rich. The price tags? Astronomical. Some of the dresses cost as much as a down payment on a car. 

There was a time when I wore centuries-old gowns made from hand-stitched silk—and still, this felt more intimidating. Maybe because someone else was footing the bill. One of those someone's being the brother with the hottest temper. 

“H-holy shit,” Vandalia gasped when she caught sight of a black dress on the mannequin. “These don’t even look that much fancier than the last few shops, but—my God. Look at these prices.” The tone of her voice, she sounded like she wanted to faint on the spot. 

She kept touching the dress like she was afraid it would vanish. Like maybe if she held it too long, someone would accuse her of dreaming above her means. “This place caters to a certain clientèle,” I explained. “They know their customers are willing to pay for the name.”

“I don’t know if I even feel comfortable being in here. We’ve racked up enough debt on Elijah and Klaus’s cards,” Vandalia muttered. And honestly, she had a point. My brothers might actually faint when the bills came in.

Then again—they weren’t just paying for her wardrobe. Rebekah and I had certainly done our share of damage. “Trust me,” I said, “if this was a problem, Klaus would’ve already burst through the door with dramatic monologue in hand.” 

Rebekah snorted a laugh at my words, her face almost red with laughter. "Freya isn't kidding, darling. It's the twenty-first century. Our brothers have banking apps on their phones. They know exactly how much we're spending and where at." For a moment, Vandalia went a shade more pale. With how pale she already was, I hadn't realized that was possible until now.

“I’ll put this one on my own card,” Rebekah said. “It’s the most expensive—and honestly, the most me.” That wasn't an exaggeration. As much as I loved being spoiled and felt like I had a lifetime of lost time to make up for, my little sister had inherited Klaus's impulsiveness and Elijah's love of excess when it came to expensive clothing. Honestly, all of my siblings lived by one golden rule: the more expensive it is, the better.

“Are you sure?” Vandalia asked, fingers still brushing the hem of the dress. One thing that was more than evident, Vandalia had always shopped with a budget. Sales racks. Clearance. This wasn’t just a dress—it was a whole new reality she was trying to feel worthy of. “Klaus said he and Elijah would cover everything. Though... I doubt he realized that included both his sisters’ closets.” 

“I’m sure,” Rebekah replied firmly. “Now let’s try a few things on.” We browsed and draped dress after dress over our arms to try on. Dresses that Vandalia could have never imagined herself wearing because she never could have imagined buying for herself, let alone someone else paying for — now these clothes had become a realistic option for her. Her eyes sparkled, a smile tugging at her lips, as she tried on dress after dress—each one more daring than the last. 

Watching Vandalia twirl in a gown that shimmered like starlight, I realized: she wasn’t pretending anymore. She was beginning to believe she belonged here. And God help me, I wanted her to. 



With a couple of bags each, Rebekah paid the final bill, and out the door we went. We were several blocks from home now, and honestly—we needed a dolly for all these bags. For the fourth time today, I muttered “Phasmatos lacus,” and just like that, everything shimmered and vanished from view one last time.

As we stepped onto the sidewalk, the late afternoon sun had turned gold and syrupy, painting everything it touched in soft, forgiving light. It made even the concrete feel a little glamorous. Vandalia glanced over at me with a soft, secret sort of smile. One that said: I’m trying. I’m becoming. Thank you for seeing me.

And it hit me then—not for the first time today—that we hadn’t just brought her out shopping. We’d helped her walk into a world that was always meant for her. She just hadn’t had the key until now. 

“I could get used to this,” she said, adjusting the strap of her bag. Rebekah grinned. “Darling, that’s the whole point.” We rounded the corner, heels clicking in sync, and I thought: this is what it should feel like to be a Mikaelson woman. Bold. Brilliant. Unapologetically alive. And with a shimmer of magic, our burdens vanished into thin air—just like the past, if only for an afternoon and evening.

Time couldn’t stand still forever, though. I glanced at my watch and gasped. “It’s later than I thought. I hope we haven’t missed Kol and Davina’s arrival.” We hadn't seen them since Christmas, even though we texted with them every single day in our family's group chat thread. 

At least once a week, one of them would call. I had centuries to make up for with Kol; with all of my siblings. “You act like Marcel can’t entertain them until we get back,” Rebekah said breezily. “Nik and Elijah are probably already home, anyway.”

At the mention of our brothers, something in Vandalia shifted. Her eyes lit up—not just with curiosity, but something closer to longing. “I—I’m ready to go home, if that’s okay with you two,” she said softly. “But... I do have one last request.” Her voice was quiet, like she wasn’t sure she had the right to ask. 

It struck me again how careful she was while around us—like she hadn’t quite convinced herself this was real. Like she might wake up and find us gone. I was genuinely flattered that my family was like a dream come true for Vandalia. I was sure Elijah and Nik shared my sentiments.

I raised my brow in her direction. “Could we stop and pick up beignets and coffee? For everyone, I mean. As a sort of... late evening snack?” I smiled, instantly charmed. “Of course we can. They’ll be delighted.” And I meant it. Little gestures like that went a long way in our family. 

Vandalia immediately brightened, a wide grin appearing on her gorgeous face. I realized why she’d been quiet with her question — she was once again afraid that she was slowing us down or holding us up. It was clear she walked on egg-shells, waiting for anyone and everyone to get upset with her over the tiniest thing. Things that might be perceived as inconveniences or burdens.

It was true, I was anxious to return home and see my brother and sister-in-law, but Vandalia’s idea of surprising them and the rest of our family with beignets and coffee — enough for everyone — it was kindness personified. 

It wasn’t just about food. It was about belonging. About walking into our family home with something sweet in her hands and saying: I thought of you. That’s how you built family, one meaningful offering at a time. 



We walked through the streets of the Quarter, arms linked, hearts lighter than they’d been in days. And for the first time in a long while, it felt like we were all coming home to something real. 

The sky above was beginning to deepen, dusky lavender blooming over rooftops like a watercolor painting left out in the rain. The gas lamps flickered on one by one, casting halos around the iron balconies and cobbled streets. 

As we passed a street musician playing something soft and bluesy, Vandalia paused to drop a few bills into his open case. He looked up and nodded at her, a quiet acknowledgment that felt sacred somehow. I hadn’t been aware Vandalia had any cash with her, but it’s as if she’d saved it for a special moment like this.

She was made for this city. And this city—just maybe—had been waiting for her, too. I squeezed her arm gently and whispered, “You belong with us, you know.” She didn’t answer. She didn’t have to. The smile on her face said it all.

(8,977 words -- roughly 33 pages.)

Notes:

I'm a day late on updating (almost two) - super sorry for that, y'all! We're going through a heat-wave right now and God also surprised me with a new kitten appearing on my doorstep, today of all days, the hottest day of the year (so far.) I've been trying to get back to work full-time and it's just flat out been impossible with how life is going here at home. (One day at a time, I know... one day at a time.)

Anyway - as I said in the notes of the brand new Chapter 17 (which the notes are now located at the end of the chapter instead of at the beginning!) -- if this chapter looks familiar to you, it's because it is. Chapter 16 (Pt 1 of the shopping chapter) ended up a whopping 10,226 words, so I decided to split it into two and put a brand new point of view (Marcel's) in between it! I'm so happy with the new chapter seventeen, the interaction between Josh and Marcel. I hope you all enjoyed it, too. I did add a couple hundred new words to Chapter 16, so the 'split' of it would feel very natural.

I have added quite a few new words to this chapter (a little over 1,500), so it's worth the re-read to familiarize yourself at least.

I want to send a big THANK YOU to those of you who actually took the time to re-read chapters one through sixteen, too. Like I said, the storyline hasn't changed - but I added at least 10,000 brand new words spread out between Chapter 1 - 16. The other biggest change has been the addition of chapter titles and epigraphs (located in the chapter summary area.) I'm very pleased with how those have turned out!

Our story stats as of the update right now - 119,471 words in 17 chapters. 3,503 reads/views (oh my gosh I can't believe I hit 3500+!!) 31 subscribers, 26 kudos, and 35 bookmarks. Thank you all so very very much!

I hope to update again next week with a brand new Chapter 19. It will be from a brand new point of view! I've got it about half-written right now. I'm extremely excited and am hoping you all will love it!

Enjoy the rest of the shopping trip with the ladies in this chapter! :)

Chapter 19: Davina's Point of View

Summary:

“Sometimes, you just need a little sun, a little spice, and a man who can’t stop looking at you like you’re made of magic."

Chapter Nineteen:

Where the Ocean Meets the Road: Almost Home

“Enjoying yourself so far, darling?” Kol’s voice pulled me out of my thoughts. I turned away from the passenger window to look at my husband. “I always enjoy our road trips together, Kol. No matter how long or short,” I murmured with a soft smile. “You just seemed a million miles away for a second, love. Not dreading going home, are you? You were excited earlier.”

I could hear the concern in his voice — when it came to me, Kol worried about everything. Maybe it was nothing. A strange tug in my chest I couldn’t explain — the kind of feeling powerful magic sometimes leaves behind. I'd been removed from magic for quite sometime now, so that couldn't, and shouldn't be it. 

I ran my left hand over the back of his right, resting on the gearshift. “We haven’t been home since Christmas,” I reminded him. “I’m excited to see everyone. And to meet Elijah’s new girlfriend.” For some reason, I couldn’t get the image of her out of my head — though I’d never even met her, not yet. 

I’d lurked her Facebook enough, so had my husband. Kol let out a laugh, rich and amused. “I’m rather excited to meet her as well. For Elijah to be so smitten, she must be a real prize,” Kol practically purred. 

Playfully, I smacked his hand instead of letting my fingers keep dancing along the back of it. “Not a bigger prize than you, of course, Dav.” He grinned at me, that cocky little smirk that still made my heart flutter after all these years. I couldn’t help but to giggle softly.



Ever since I fell in love with Kol Mikaelson — even before, really — we’d matched each other in every way. When I first loved him, he wasn’t exactly the man sitting beside me now. Honestly, he didn’t even look like the man driving this car. 

It was a long story — the story of us. But I was grateful for every single page. Every word that had led us to right now. Some loves feel like spells. Ours always felt like a midsummers hurricane. And I never wanted to be anywhere but the eye of it. 



I’m twenty-six now. But when I first met Marcel Gerard — no, not met. It wasn’t that simple. It wasn’t like I bumped into him at Joe’s Record Shop and struck up conversation over some shared music interest. I met him when he rescued me from the Harvest Ritual. I was sixteen. Just a girl. Just… innocent. 



Even now, there are nights when I wake up remembering the cold stone altar. The chanting of my coven all around me. The way hope had started to die in me, before he pulled me away — before he rescued me from the ritual they were trying to finish. One that came with a heavy price: my sacrifice.

Ten years. A long, hard decade. But when I looked at Kol now — really looked at him — I knew it had all been worth it. We’d both died. Twice. And come back. Neither time was easy, but it was clear: our story wasn’t finished. Our purpose on this earth hadn’t been fulfilled. If you believed in that sort of thing. I think I still did.

Kol and I celebrated our fifth wedding anniversary this past December. We tied the knot on December 3rd, 2017. I smiled at the memory, heat blooming on my cheeks just thinking about that day. I can still feel the cold of that wintry Sunday morning, the weight of the veil, the way Kol’s eyes softened the moment he saw me. 



I’d never imagined becoming a bride at twenty… let alone marrying a man more than a thousand years older than me. If you’d told sixteen-year-old me I’d marry an Original — a Mikaelson — I would’ve said you were completely delusional.

I’d never dreamed of a lavish winter wedding in St. Ann’s Church — the very church whose attic I once called home — but that’s exactly what we had. The person I once swore I hated more than anyone, Klaus Mikaelson, insisted I was family now. That I was part of always and forever. 

Always and forever meant marrying on the Mikaelson dime. With the Mikaelsons, there was no such thing as modest. They never spared expense. After so many years of feeling like I didn’t belong anywhere, hearing Klaus call me family meant more than I’d ever admit out loud.

A part of me wanted to say it — shout it even, but there was still a frightened sixteen year old girl deep within me. She was too scared to thank him, all of them, for their kindness and welcoming me into their family.

I’d thanked them for their generosity, sure. I had thanked Kol a million times for loving me and allowing me to love him — for being a safe place for my heart. But I hadn’t thanked them for seeing me as an equal and treating me as such. Not adequately, anyway.



My dress was simple and elegant. Looking back, it felt perfect for who I was then. I didn’t have parents. At least, not any I wanted in my life. I didn’t have a mother or older sister to go dress shopping with. Instead, I’d gone with Hayley and Rebekah.

I didn’t have a father to walk his baby girl down the aisle and give her to the man she’d chosen to spend her life with. So it only felt right that Marcel Gerard — the man who saved me — walked me down the aisle and gave me away to Kol. I remember gripping Marcel’s arm tighter with each step. But the second I saw Kol’s face — that smile — everything else disappeared. 

Father Kieran O’Connell officiated the ceremony. I wanted Cami at our wedding more than anything — I considered her my best friend, next to Josh. More than that — I wanted her to be my Maid of Honor. But she couldn’t. She was too new as a vampire, and the last thing she wanted was to risk hurting someone we loved — like her uncle, Father Kieran.



With Freya Mikaelson’s help, Cami was able to attend in a form of astral projection. She was there… without really being there. I remember seeing her — faint, glowing, and ethereal. A time or two throughout the ceremony, it looked like she was actually there. She smiled at me the whole time with a few tears in her eyes. 

Cami always believed in love even if her own love story ended up being a tragedy. Marcel would talk to me about her while I was safe and sound in the attic of the church. Although I was young, he’d ask for my advice on how he should ask her out, what he should do to surprise her, and show her he cared about her. 



It meant a lot to me that he’d ask my opinion on what most would consider to be little things like that. Marcel made me feel important, made me feel seen in a world that I was meant to be hiding from everyone and everything.

Then Klaus Mikaelson came to town and suddenly, Cami was caught in between two immortals who both found her to be one of the most enchanting woman they’d ever met. I couldn’t blame either one of them, not truly. Cami was enchanting, even to me.

Not long after Klaus returned, his younger sister Rebekah followed. It didn’t matter how in love Marcel believed he was with Cami, Rebekah was his endgame. She was his first love, and he’d never gotten over her. 

No matter how electric things felt with Marcel for Cami, she admitted to me that when she looked into Klaus’s blue eyes for the first time, it was as if something cosmic realigned within her. At the time, I’d wanted to barf. In my eyes, Klaus was the literal devil and Cami was trying to waltz with him. 

After I fell for Kol, I started viewing them differently. I took the time to get to know each one of them — maybe one more so than the others. Klaus was guarded, and in Cami’s own words — narcissistic and paranoid. His devotion to her, though… I could feel it. I recognized it because Kol, too, felt that way about me. 

After witnessing the lengths he went through to avenge her mortal death, I no longer doubted Klaus’s love for Cami. I watched as the Original hybrid killed a woman that he had fell in love with a thousand years ago — a woman that he never expected to come back into his life, but had always secretly yearned she would. I watched it wreck Klaus in a way, and yet it provided him with closure in another. 





In Cami’s place, I chose Hayley Marshall-Kenner as my Maid of Honor, while Kol chose Klaus as his Best Man. If our wedding had been a few years earlier, I might’ve protested — asked Kol to pick Elijah, or even Jackson Kenner. 

But Klaus and I had been working on our amends. Letting him stand as his brother’s Best Man — it was a step on that long, slow path toward healing. We hadn’t forgotten the past. But that day, we chose to believe in something better. A happier future going forward.





Freya and Rebekah Mikaelson were my bridesmaids, while Elijah and my best friend, Josh Rosza, stood as Kol’s groomsmen. Looking back, I wish Jackson and Aidan could’ve been part of the ceremony too — but that would’ve thrown off the numbers. 

And Rebekah? She was a stickler for balance and detail, even though it wasn’t her wedding. I didn’t mind too much. Letting Rebekah take the reins on planning had honestly been a weight lifted off my young shoulders. 

When I look back at my wedding photographs, sometimes I like to picture Cami standing in Hayley’s spot, along with Jackson and Aidan as additional groomsmen. Hayley could have been a bridesmaid or maybe even a Matron of Honor since she was already married at the time. I wouldn’t have cared how off the numbers would have looked, so long as everyone had a spot in our wedding. 





It had been quite sometime since I’d looked at those photographs — the physical copies back home in New Orleans while digital copies were with me everywhere we went. If Kol and I weren’t always on the go, traveling here and there, I’d put together a proper scrapbook documenting the happiest day of our lives. I guess it was never too late — maybe I could do that over the Easter holiday?

I was part of a family now, and I was grateful for that. The little girl still buried inside me — the one who used to cry in secret and pray for a place to belong — finally felt at peace. I didn’t belong to a coven anymore. I didn’t belong with the witches of New Orleans, who had tried more than once to shun me, exile me… even kill me. 

I still remember the feeling of the Ancestors magic turning on me — cold, sharp, and unforgiving. No apology. No remorse. They weren’t my family. I was a Mikaelson. I was one of them now, and I would never regret that.

In the last five years, Kol and I had traveled so much I was beginning to feel a little worn out. But I was also incredibly lucky. I’d crossed off so many dreams from my travel bucket list — dozens of countries across Europe, ancient villages, bustling cities, and oceanside towns. 



My head spun just thinking about everything we’d seen and experienced in half a decade. Snow falling over Prague. Candlelight dinners in Santorini. The sharp, smoky spice of street food in Morocco. Our phones were full of pictures and we'd developed many from disposable cameras. Yet another scrapbook that needed making.

Just this morning, we woke up in a beautiful condo in Destin, Florida — where we’d been staying for nearly a month. Every day began with Kol beside me, every afternoon spent on white sands or indulging in some five-star meal— didn’t matter if it was lunch or dinner. It was almost always five-star. 

We spent most every evening in the ocean except on days it was storming. On more than one occasion, we watched from the safety of the condo through closed patio glass as waterspouts developed out over the Gulf. I remembered one afternoon that a waterspout was about to come ashore and there were children playing on the beach.

I hadn’t really used my magic, not to that extent, in quite a while but I couldn’t stop myself. It was a reflex for me to try and save someone, especially children. I opened the patio glass and stepped out onto the balcony and with my arms stretched forward, I started chanting. The waterspout started to dissipate. At the ends of my fingertips, there was an odd gold colored magic. 

Not only my fingertips, but the clouds and waterspout themselves had an eerie gold glow about them for a few seconds. I shrugged it off, and so did Kol, to being a trick of the sun. A feeling deep in my gut, though, made me wonder if it could have been more. 

One rainy day in particular, I suggested we play board games or card games to pass our time. You have to realize over the years, there really wasn’t a game that Kol and I hadn’t played. Chess, Checkers, Scrabble, Backgammon, Rummy, Gin, Poker — you name it. Board games like Monopoly, Clue, and more. Even a rather risqué game of naked Twister a time or two.

Kol surprised me when he took a checker board and placed Chess pieces upon it in a different formation than what I was accustomed. ‘What on Earth, Kol? Did you just invent a new game?’ I’d asked and he wore a playful grin while shaking his head. ‘You’ve been a Mikaelson five years, love. I might have been born here, but I’d like to share a game from the old country. If you’d let me.’

It wasn’t often that Kol brought up the old world. He was right — he’d been born here in what would eventually become America, but after he was an immortal, he spent many centuries with his siblings traveling all over Europe. Including their home country of present-day Norway.

‘Hnefatafl they called it back in the day. Viking chess.’ I was more than intrigued. I learned a lot from my husband that afternoon and he spoke more about his parents — Mikael and Esther — than he had in all of the five years we’d been wed. 

It helped me to see them in a slightly better light than the memories I had of them. Years ago when I’d helped Mikael come back for the sole purpose of putting his bastard son down, and Esther… trying to purify her children, for a wickedness she and her husband had forced upon them. 

Every night, I fell asleep in Kol’s arms, usually laughing myself to tears over some ridiculous joke he told. He’d started rating seagulls by sassiness, like some kind of beach-side Simon Cowell.



This was the man I chose, always and forever. I’d learned that Kol wasn’t everyone’s cup of tea. It was the same with his siblings — you either loved them, or you hated them. There was never any in-between with the Originals. People either worshiped them or plotted their demise. In the course of my life, I’d done both.

Sixteen-year-old Davina never could’ve imagined this life at twenty-six. Kol Mikaelson was the greatest, most unexpected gift the universe had ever handed me — chaotic bow and all. He was the wiliest of the Mikaelsons, and his record was anything but clean. He’d spent centuries in coffins, daggered and dreaming, sometimes for his own good. 

He told me those stories late at night, his arms wrapped around me in the dark, fingers drifting through my hair like it brought him peace. ‘There are parts of me I hope you never see, love,’ he once murmured long before we were ever married. ‘But if you ever do… I hope you'll stay.’



I did stay. I saw Kol at his absolute darkest on the day that he took my life. From the other side, I watched him shatter into a million broken pieces at what he’d done — what he’d been forced to do. 

I also watched how he fought tooth and nail to get me back — how they all fought for me. I was family, even if I wasn’t a Mikaelson yet. Kol had chosen me, and that meant something to each of them.

All of the Mikaelsons talked about redemption — none more than Elijah and Klaus. But in those quiet, vulnerable moments late at night with Kol, I realized something: his redemption wasn’t in speeches or grand gestures. It was in what he whispered to me on the first night we were man and wife. 

“You’re my redemption, love. I’ve done a lot of terrible things in me life, you know I have. Despite all of it — everything you know — you still chose me. You still took a chance and fell in love with me, Dav. I will never take you for granted. You’ve bettered me, and I’ll never be a monster like that again. You have my word, Davina Mikaelson.” 

Even now, just thinking about it made my throat burn with tears I wanted to cry. He meant every word. Those words were an extension of his vows from earlier that day — only softer. More private. The kind of promises meant for no one’s ears but mine.

It felt like a binding spell, in a way. Not cast with magic — just with love. Kol might have been called a monster once. And maybe the movies would always show vampires that way. But I knew better. He had never broken that vow. Not once in five years.

Maybe it was because we never stayed in one place too long. Kol needed the movement, the thrill of something new to anchor him. Sure, I helped — but it was the world itself that seemed to keep him whole.

He’d missed so much time daggered away in a coffin. He once cried silently on a cliff in Northern Scotland, staring out at the sea like it used to know him. Like he'd promised it that he would return someday, but hadn’t intended on it being this long until he finally did.

I’d missed out in my own way too — tied to a coven, defined by power and loss. Traveling was our freedom, our salvation from a city that always seemed to be at war in one way or another. It was our reset button. Our version of peace. It was our way of having control over something, something that no one could take away from us. 

We’d been back to New Orleans a handful of times over the last five years — holidays, birthdays, or just the occasional surprise visit. But we never stayed for long. I didn’t think this trip would be any different. 

Easter was in two days, and I imagined we’d stay through the weekend… then be gone again. Just two more ghosts of former residents slipping in and out of the city that shaped us.

Part of me wanted to tell Kol to slow down — that maybe we’d seen enough places, done enough things, and it was time to rest. I didn’t want to stop traveling forever — just a small respite would do. A few months, maybe a year? 

But the other part of me? I loved living in the moment. Every wild, spontaneous, chaotic second of it. We’d both died twice. Who knew when the third time might come for us? I never wanted to waste a single second of my life — of our lives.

Like Kol, I was genuinely excited to meet Elijah’s new girlfriend, Vandalia LaRue. Her last name reminded me of an old soul from back home in New Orleans — Josephine LaRue, the former Regent of the Nine Covens. 

I hadn’t seen Josephine in years, and while she was certainly getting up there in age, something told me she was still just as sharp. That woman could command the Coven with just a glance — and probably still could if not for Vincent Griffith holding the position now.

Vincent was every bit as powerful of a Regent. Like the LaRue’s, the Tremé family — and the Coven named for them — was equally as old and respected. Vincent was generations younger than Josephine — if anyone made the mistake of underestimating Josephine due to her age, they wouldn’t make that mistake with Vincent. 

Elijah had sent us a photo of him and his new flame in her hometown a few nights ago — and Vandalia was beautiful. But the photos I saw afterward? The ones on Facebook? Beautiful didn’t even cut it. My sister-in-law, Rebekah, had long been nicknamed the ‘Original Barbie’ — radiant, statuesque, and impossible to ignore.

Still… in some inexplicable way, Rebekah paled in comparison. Maybe it was the contrast — vampire and human. Blond and raven-dark. Or maybe it was something else entirely. There was a haunting, almost timeless beauty about Vandalia that made you pause. And judging by the look on Kol’s face when he saw her photo? He felt it too. I wasn’t jealous. Just… curious. And maybe a little on guard.

Elijah Mikaelson, the Noble One as he was known, wasn't the type to bring just anyone home. If he ever did — they meant something to him. ‘You're sure you're not jealous, love?’ Kol had teased. I'd rolled my eyes, but the truth was… maybe I just didn't like not knowing exactly who this woman was. 

There was something about Vandalia’s piercing green eyes that made her seem older than she looked. Like they had seen things the rest of us hadn't, like she knew things we didn’t. If she was a Native to New Orleans, I’d almost insist she was a LaRue witch… but hailing from Kentucky? Could it be possible?

Even though this was our first time going home to the French Quarter since Christmas, Kol and I wouldn't be the ‘shiny new toy’ anymore thanks to Elijah's new girlfriend. And honestly? I was grateful for that. I’d never been one to crave the spotlight — but somehow, it always managed to find me. 

It would be nice, for once, to let someone else be the new face. The newbie in the family. It would be amusing to watch her try and survive a Mikaelson holiday party. In a way, me and Kol were a bit disheartened we weren't there at a few minutes after midnight when she'd first arrived. We should have left Destin a day sooner, but the beach kept calling our names.

From the way Elijah spoke about her in the family group chat — and the way she presented herself online — Vandalia came across as smart, funny, and deeply kind. A woman with real feelings, not just the polished kind. I could relate to that. 

It sounded like she’d been on the frayed end of a tightrope when Elijah first met her. He seemed to think that a visit to New Orleans might lift her spirits — maybe even help her find her footing in life again. Elijah was hoping it might lift some weight from her shoulders, ease her depression, and make her genuinely happy.

As his sister-in-law, I hoped for the same. Rebekah’s Easter egg painting party was tomorrow night, and I had a feeling Vandalia would enjoy it — or at least try to. Then came the grand feast on Sunday. 

I was sure she had family of her own, and she’d probably been to her fair share of holiday dinners. But a Mikaelson holiday? That was an entirely different kind of ballgame. I guess we’d find out if she could handle it.

“After a month in Florida, anything over four hours in the car is just plain cruel,” I groaned, stretching as far as my seatbelt would allow. My body ached, and I was more than ready to be back in the Quarter where I could actually move. 

“We’re in Biloxi, love,” Kol said from the driver’s seat, glancing at me with a smirk. “How about we stop for a bite to eat? Or would you rather I pull over so you can dance on the shoulder to stretch your legs?”

I narrowed my eyes at my husband’s question, playful as ever. “You wish,” I murmured with a grin tugging at my lips. But when my stomach gave a traitorous little growl, I gave in with a laugh. “Lunch does sound good. What about Shaggy’s? I loved the beach view last time — and the weather’s perfect to sit out on their back deck.”

We’d passed through Biloxi plenty over the last few years, and Shaggy’s had become a bit of a tradition — a scenic pause before home. The beach view was hard to beat, especially on a sun-drenched day like this. “Now you’re speaking my language, love,” Kol practically purred, reaching over to squeeze my hand before pulling into the parking lot. 

While Kol parked, I pulled out my iPhone and opened up the group chat — the same one we all had saved as Family Above All. My nails clacked softly against the screen as I typed, the sound a side effect of yesterday’s manicure. 

Kol insisted that I get anything I wanted. I had an idea in mind but I thought it might be silly. ‘If you want to theme, you know my little sister likely will, too.’ That had been enough to convince me — I wouldn’t be the only one with themed nails. I went for it — full Easter theme: tiny pastel bunnies and glittery eggs. Sunday couldn’t come soon enough. 

‘We’ve made it as far as Biloxi. We’re almost home! I can’t wait to see you all!’ I hit send, and tucked the phone back in my purse, though I could still feel the butterflies fluttering in my stomach — that mix of excitement and nerves that always came before returning to New Orleans. 

You never knew what to expect when it came to the Crescent City. Nervousness of walking into the occasional lions den that the city could be. Mostly, the butterflies stemmed from excitement — excitement to see our family and of course, meet Elijah’s new girlfriend.

By the time Kol and I were walking into the restaurant, a response made my phone chime. ‘Tell your husband to obey the speed limit this time. I’m not vamping out to Slidell just to deal with parish police. ;)’ I giggled, instantly picturing the flashing blue lights and Marcel’s unimpressed face. 

Kol glanced over, brow raised, and I angled my phone so he could read the message. Rolling his eyes, he let out a huff of mock offense. “Oi. Man bails me out one bloody time and I’m branded for life. He’ll never let me live it down.” 

“It was pretty funny, babe,” I teased, nudging him gently in the side with my elbow. Back then, when Kol was in Kaleb’s body, he’d been more than appreciative of Marcel swooping in. I hadn’t quite appreciated the usefulness of vampire compulsion at the time — not like I do now. Now, I saw it for the lifeline it could be. Back then? I still saw it as just another way the vampires controlled things— people.

When Kol had been trapped in the body of a witch, he hadn’t had the strength or the blood-lust of a vampire — and definitely no compulsion. In a lot of ways, I knew he missed those days. He loved magic. But he’d admitted more than once that being an Original meant he was harder, damn near impossible, to kill.

And more importantly? It meant I was safer, too. That was all that mattered to him. And, truthfully, it was starting to matter more and more to me, too. I still had nightmares about death even this many years later. The nothingness. The void.

Shaggy’s was bustling — no surprise with it being the Friday before a big holiday and the weather straight out of a travel brochure. Hand-in-hand, Kol and I followed the waitress as she weaved us through the crowd, eventually leading us to a tucked-away picnic table on the back deck.

The view was everything: open blue sky, white sand, and waves glittering in the afternoon sun. The air carried the warm scent of saltwater and faint coconut sunscreen — a scent that always brought a sort of joy to my heart. If you were a beach lover like me, it was the kind of air you wanted to bottle up and take home with you. No candle could ever compare to the real thing.

“Can I tempt either of you with a mixed drink?” The waitress — her name-tag read Sarah — asked with a friendly smile. “Are we in the mood for a bit of day-drinking, love?” Kol teased, one brow arching with a grin already spreading across his face.

“I don’t think one will hurt,” I replied, flipping open the cocktail menu. After a quick scan, I settled on a key lime daiquiri — something sweet and tart, like summer in a glass. I’d been a fan of key lime ever since our first time to Key West years ago. 

Kol, of course, went straight for the Cajun Mary — some spicy twist on a Bloody Mary that already had him looking pleased with himself. If this were a more private place, my husband likely would have compelled Sarah to add some real blood to that Bloody Mary, satisfying his actual thirst.

“We’ll take a dozen raw oysters, too,” Kol added casually, glancing up from his menu. Sarah nodded with a smile and slipped away, leaving us to mull over our entrée options. “I don’t want to be achingly full for the rest of the drive home,” I admitted, already eyeing the lighter fare — grilled shrimp tacos or maybe a citrus salad. Something easy. 

“Knowing my brother, we’ll either end up at some fancy restaurant tonight or he’ll cook a five-star feast at home just to impress his new flame.” I hadn’t even considered the possibility of a dinner that required heels. The second Kol said it, my mind flipped into wardrobe mode. 

Did I even pack anything decent enough for a night on the town with the Mikaelsons? My mental checklist was already spiraling. Would there be a boutique open late enough to snag a dress in case I had nothing worthy of such an occasion? Of course… there was always magic to remedy the situation, too.

Kol smirked over the top of his menu, clearly sensing the chaos in my head. “Darling, I’m sure whatever you wear will be more than enough to put everyone else to shame.” I couldn’t help but let a little grin appear. “You’re obligated to say such niceties, I’m your wife,” I mused. There was no way I’d put Rebekah to shame. The Original Barbie couldn’t be topped. 

“Whether it’s dinner at home or a nice restaurant, I’m sure we’ll have a wonderful time getting to know his new flame,” I said softly, my voice gentling at the thought of Elijah. “He was pretty heartbroken over the last one, eh?” Kol murmured, peeking at me from over the top of his menu once more, his eyes crinkling with the faintest mischief. Sometimes I swore I was married to the God of Mischief himself, Loki.

He puffed his cheeks out and crossed his eyes for a second — something so absurd I snorted before I could help it. “You’re such an ass, Kol Mikaelson,” I giggled, shaking my head. 

After a moment to compose myself, I nodded at his previous statement. Because he wasn’t wrong. Elijah had been heartbroken. And maybe this time, he deserved something real. Something that could last the test of time. 

I’ll never forget the look on Elijah’s face all those years ago as we watched Hayley marry Jackson — the silent ache he tried to mask behind his ever-composed expression. The poker face we’d all come to know. We all saw it break, even if no one said a word.

Back then, my feelings toward the Mikaelsons were still raw and jagged at best. Bitterness clung to me like smoke — they’d caused so much damage, and I hadn’t yet begun to forgive. I wouldn’t have humored the idea of it, let alone dared to even try.

But Elijah… I’d always regarded him a little differently. He wasn’t as reckless as Klaus or as sharp-tongued as Rebekah. There was a quiet gravity to him — a man bound by his word, tethered by honor even when it broke him. I respected that immensely from the moment we met.

There were other reasons I looked at Elijah differently from the rest of his siblings — reasons I wasn’t ready to admit, not even to myself. Feelings too tangled and a particular memory that stung when I thought back to it, in both good and bad ways.

Sarah reappeared, balancing our drinks like a pro. She set down our cocktails and water glasses, the lemon wedges catching the light like slivers of the sun itself. “Those oysters should be out in just a minute,” she said cheerfully. “Are you two ready to order, or do you need a couple more minutes?” 

I knew Kol well enough by now to know he’d never speak before a lady — not when it came to ordering, or anything else that involved his version of chivalry. It was one of the many things I adored about Kol Mikaelson. He was old school in all the best ways, and every time he did something thoughtful like that, it reminded me just how deeply I was loved. 

“I think I’ll have the Crab Cobb Salad,” I said softly. Sarah jotted it down with a grin. “Great choice for a day like today. Refreshing — just like the weather,” she said warmly before turning her attention to Kol. “The Royal Reds for me, darling. Thank you kindly,” Kol said, handing over his menu with a little wink. I handed mine over too, hiding a smile behind my daiquiri straw. 

Some women might reprimand their husband giving the waitress a playful wink, a bit of flirtation here and there — I wasn’t one of those women. My husband had been alive for over a millennium and being charming? It was more than a personality trait at this point, it was literally in his DNA. 

Deeper down still, there was a tiny part of me that envied how flirtatious Kol could be and so easily, so effortlessly. It was natural to him. He might have insisted it was his vampirism, but I believed Kol was like this even as a human. 

I wanted to be that way, too. No matter how many times the thought crossed my mind, the desire to be flirty with a waiter or even a waitress, I just couldn’t do it. It might be hard to believe, but I was too shy most of the time. 

That sounds like an oxymoron, doesn’t it? One of the most powerful witch’s New Orleans has ever known, married to the most mischievous of the Mikaelsons, and yet I was too shy to flirt with a pretty woman or an attractive man. I guess the truth was plain and simple: I didn’t have the years of experience my husband did. Nor the added perk of a vampire’s courage… or arrogance.



Sarah slipped away, and just a few moments later, a waiter arrived with our oysters on a tray of crushed ice. He gave us a polite smile and told us to enjoy. “These look divine,” Kol said, already reaching for one like a man starved. I knew he wasn’t that starved. He’d had a rather large drink of a pretty little blond last night at the condo.

I thought back to that moment— Kol didn’t know I was watching. It wasn’t like it was a secret from me or anything, he wasn’t purposefully hiding drinking human blood from me. My husband was a vampire and he needed blood to survive, I’d never fault him for that. It was always the same routine, he’d go out and feed on a pretty girl or two and compel them to forget. 

That had been an agreement from day one of our relationship, even a silent vow during our wedding: you feed to sustain yourself, not for fun, and you don’t kill. Kol knew there was only one justifiable reason for that solemn vow to be broken— if one of our lives were in danger. It’s another promise he’s kept, another vow honored in our marriage.

I’d never made it a habit or routine to follow Kol out for his meal time. But last night, my curiosity was piqued. It was as if I was compelled to watch him in action. I couldn’t stop myself and honestly? I didn’t want to. 

As he walked down the main outdoor staircase of our condo, a beautiful blond approached going upstairs. As he always did, he found a reason to strike up conversation with his prey. ‘I’m sorry if this is too forward, miss, but that dress looks spectacular on you.’ She was new — she hadn’t been staying at this particular condo as long as us… a fresh opportunity.

Hook, line, and sinker. ‘Thank you,’ the blond had replied rather shyly. The second she made eye contact with him, that’s when the compulsion began. ‘I’m going to ease you against the wall, love. Then I’m going to sink my fangs into your pretty little neck and drink your blood. You aren’t going to scream or try to fight. You’re going to enjoy it. In fact, you’ll love it.’

I watched as Kol did just that. At first, I thought he was about to kiss her — a part of me believes he wanted to. Just before their lips could touch, he dove into the left side of her neck and started to feed. The outside of the condo was empty of prying eyes, at least for now, and her little coos seemed to echo in the stillness. My heart was racing at the sound of them. 

I startled myself with the realization of two things. First, the disappointment that washed over me when he didn’t kiss her. And second? The fact I wanted to be her or maybe… I wanted to be at his side while he fed from her. I wanted to be part of it somehow. 

I wanted to tell Kol that I’d watched him last night and about the feelings that had bubbled up deep within me… but I didn’t know how. A part of me, I guess, was scared of how he might react. I didn’t want him to think differently about me or to think badly of me. 

I took a sip of my daiquiri, settling back into the wide patio chair and letting the moment settle around me. It helped bring me back from the memory of last night, the one I wasn’t ready to confess to my husband just yet. 

The breeze was soft and warm, threading through Kol’s short brown hair as the sunlight kissed the side of his face. For just a heartbeat, I let myself watch him — this beautiful, impossible man I’d married — and held onto the serenity of it. The perfection of it. Kol was far from perfect and so was I, yet somehow, we were perfect for each other. 

Kol polished off his third oyster with a satisfied hum, then locked eyes with me across the table. “You keep lookin’ at me like that, love, and we might have to book a hotel room for the afternoon.” I blushed — of course I did. Typical Kol. Shameless, incorrigible, and entirely mine. 

“I’m just savoring the moment, babe,” I cooed, wrapping both hands around my chilled glass as I took another slow sip. Sunlight, sea air, and Kol Mikaelson — it was a moment worth holding onto. It might not mean a damn thing to anyone else, but it meant something to me.

“I’ll savor you, Davina Claire. In more ways than one.” He winked, then slowly dragged his tongue across his bottom lip — and just like that, I turned a deeper shade of red. The kind of red that screamed wife of the wiliest Mikaelson. 

Even after marrying him, he fluctuated between calling me by my maiden and married last name. I didn’t mind it at all. I thought it was rather cheeky and cute. I’d never been given a middle name so these days, I thought of Claire as a sort of middle name. Davina Claire Mikaelson.

“Is your mind ever not in the gutter?” I asked. He shook his head without missing a beat, popping another oyster into his mouth like it was nothing. “’Fraid not, love. Especially when it comes to you. You’re the one who married me — thought you’d know by now.”

He wasn’t wrong. I did know by now. And honestly? I loved him for it. Kol might be incorrigible, but he was also a damn good time. From day one, he’d brought out a different side to me — carefree and happy. I’d brought out a different side to him, too — gentle and caring.

Giggling, I picked up a fork and slid one of the oysters toward me, letting the briny tang flood my mouth as I bit down. We’d had oysters a dozen times in Florida over the past month, but the closer we got to New Orleans, the more I swore I could taste the difference.

“They aren’t Antoine’s, but they’re good,” I said with a nostalgic little grin. Kol smirked, already plotting. I could see it in those beautiful brown eyes of his. “A date night to Antoine’s while we’re home — got it, love.” 



I still remembered the first time I stepped inside the Quarter’s most iconic restaurant — a place I’d spent years walking past, catching whiffs of garlic and butter and elegance through the front doors. Back then, eating there felt as distant as dreaming about normality. It just wasn’t part of my world as a young witch. 

I was part of a strong coven, but my family wasn’t rich. We might have had spells and potions at our fingertips, but we didn’t use them to conjure a never ending supply of money. We used our magic for good. At least, that’s what I believed as a child.

But once I started dating Kol — and especially once I became a Mikaelson in name — everything changed. Suddenly, nothing was off-limits. Not even Antoine’s. It was dizzying at first, stepping into that world of power and privilege… but Kol never let it consume me. He always made it feel like it was ours, not just his. 

“I was surprised we didn’t go over Christmas,” I admitted. Kol chuckled, eyes glinting with mischief once more. “Starting to expect the fanciest of the fancy, are we? You’re becoming a Mikaelson more and more every day, Dav.” I shook my head gently after swallowing another oyster. “It’s not about the fancy stuff. You know it’s never been about that for me.”

I had never let the wealth of the Mikaelsons make decisions for me or influence me in any type of way. In my opinion, the only way I’ve ever taken advantage of the seemingly never-ending supply of cash — the traveling I’d done the last handful of years with Kol. 

Yes, he spoiled me everywhere we went. Each new city or tiny village somewhere in Europe, he’d buy me an outfit or some kind of trinket or souvenir. We’d eat at the finest restaurants or maybe he’d ask the locals where the most authentic hole-in-the-wall could be found. Kol’s love language was gift-giving and spoiling his wife. 

Before Marcel, no one had ever given me anything as a gift. Not like that anyway. When I became friends with Josh and Cami, I started to know what it felt like to be cared about by people. I started to realize that being given things sometimes meant: hey, I saw this today and I thought of you.

By the time Kol and I started dating, Marcel, Josh, and Cami had rubbed off on me enough that I would surprise him with a token of affection — just a little something that reminded me of him. It didn’t take long after that for me to realize it was Kol’s number one love language. Physical touch being a real close second.

“I was just surprised how little ‘us’ time we had. We didn’t go out, not even once. Every time we’re home, we get pulled in a dozen directions — catching up with everyone else. Sometimes, I miss us in the middle of it all.” 

I didn’t want to sound ungrateful about going home and visiting the people that meant the most, especially when we get so much ‘us’ time while traveling the world together. I just sometimes missed the simplicity of a date night in the Quarter, like before we were married.

Before Kol could answer, Sarah returned with our entrées, breaking the moment with the practiced warmth of a seasoned waitress. “Can I get you two anything else?” Her voice was soft, almost apologetic that she’d interrupted.

“I think we’re good, but thank you,” I said, glancing at Kol. He raised his glass in a small toast. “Our compliments to the chef — and the bartender,” he added with a grin, taking a satisfied sip of his Cajun Mary. 

I dug into my Crab Cobb Salad, while Kol peeled into his Royal Reds with practiced ease. Every so often, we shared glances and laughs, slipping into easy conversation. Our favorite moments from the past month in Florida, what we’d like to do while home besides seeing our loved ones, and where we might go once we left the French Quarter after the holiday. Kol, ever the traveler, was already dreaming up our next destination. 

“Enough about where I’d like to go and what I’d like to see,” murmured Kol. “Where do you want to go, love?” It was such a simple question, but I dreaded attempting to answer it. I wanted so badly to tell him I just wanted to stay home for a while — to slow down, to breathe. But, I didn’t want to disappoint him. 

So instead, I glanced out toward the sparkling Gulf waters and paused a moment, acting as if I was in contemplation. “We haven’t seen the Pacific Ocean in a long time.” It was the truth and Kol knew how much I loved the ocean, I knew it was believable.

We’d spent most of the past year surrounded by the Atlantic and the Gulf. And yet, it was the Gulf that always felt like home — warm, familiar, and steady. Maybe it was the knowing that New Orleans wasn’t too far away wherever I was if I remained next to the Gulf.

“Maybe we could go to Maui?” I offered, trying to sound light. We’d been to Hawai’i before — twice, actually. The first trip was to O’ahu —  seeing Pearl Harbor had always been on my bucket list. The second time, Kol dragged me to the Big Island, all eager about lava tubes and volcano gods. Volcanoes weren’t exactly my idea of a good time, but I’d appeased him with that one. Marriage was about compromise, after all.

As I took another bite of my salad, my gaze drifted toward the beach below instead of only the ocean. A young couple — maybe around my age — had just arrived with their two kids, a little boy and a slightly older girl. 

The father crouched to unpack their ‘day-at-the-beach’ bag, unrolling a wide blanket and wrestling with a sun umbrella as the breeze played tug-of-war with it. I couldn’t help but giggle quietly because of it. I was almost certain he had to be complaining under his breath, I know I would have been.

The mother crouched down to lather sunscreen on her son and daughter, fastening bright-colored water wings onto their arms before walking hand-in-hand with them toward the shoreline. The sound of their carefree giggles floated up on the breeze — and something fluttered in my chest, sharp and sweet all at once. Butterflies swirled in my stomach with a passionate vengeance.

“You long for that, don’t you, darling?” Kol’s voice pierced through my thoughts and into my heart. It was soft but weighted with sadness. I’d been watching the little family too long — too openly — and of course he noticed. I turned to face him with a sadness of my own. “I’m sorry,” I murmured, but he was already shaking his head.

“You’ve got nothing to be sorry for, Dav,” he said gently. He wiped his hands clean on a napkin, then reached across the table to take mine in his. His palm was warm, familiar, and grounding. “If anyone should apologize… it’s me. I’ve robbed you—” but I cut him off. It was something he’d said a dozen times.

“Kol.” My voice stopped him, just like it always did when he started down this road. I wasn’t going to let him keep feeling as if he’d robbed me of something when he most certainly hadn’t. “You haven’t robbed me of anything,” I said, giving his hand a firm, reassuring squeeze. “Not a single thing.”

It wasn’t that I didn’t ache for it — for a baby, for a child with Kol’s charm and my stubbornness. In fact, maybe I longed for a whole family. But it didn’t mean I lacked a full heart. He was my home. My always and forever. And that mattered just as much. No, it mattered even more.

“You’re right… I do long for it. And I—I think you do, too,” I whispered, letting our eyes lock. For a moment, his gaze turned sharp — a flicker of rigidness, that familiar armor he wore when emotions cut too deep. But beneath it, I saw it. The ache. The silent, buried truth that he wanted the very life he couldn’t give me.

I felt like a part of Kol resented himself for what he was — that he felt like a failure as a husband to me because of it. The truth was he was the furthest thing from a failure. In too many ways, Kol had saved me and I knew he’d argue that I’d saved him, too. Kol was the best thing that had ever happened to me. That fact would never change.

“It’s okay to want something, Kol,” I murmured, feeling the gentle squeeze of his hand as it wrapped around mine. I wanted him to realize it was okay to want, to desire, to dream — it was normal for us as husband and wife to dream of possibilities. Even if the dreams were different sometimes.

“Not when the something is impossible, Dav. At least… impossible from my end of it.” He turned away from me then, his gaze drifting back to the beach and the family below. “If I were human or a witch like you — I could give you that,” he said quietly. “I could give us that.” I shivered, not from the breeze, but from the weight of his words. I followed his gaze to the shoreline, imagining the same scene — only with us in it.

I could see it in my mind — Kol as a witch instead of the Original vampire that he is, and us out on the beach with our children. “There’s always adoption,” I whispered, though the words felt thin compared to the vision burning in my mind. It was powerful, sharp, and vivid. 

I saw us — Kol and me — on this same beach with three beautiful children: two girls with long brown hair and defiant smirks, and a little boy who looked so much like his father it almost hurt to imagine. For a second, I could have swore I heard those very children. For a single moment, it’s as if I knew their names.

“I know it could be dangerous,” I said, turning back to him. “But even more than that… it would be unfair to you. I’d be asking you to endure so much pain.” He blinked, puzzled by what I meant — and I could see a dozen thoughts flicker through his mind. It could mean a thousand things. But at the top of that list: the hunger. The impossible, unrelenting desire to drain them dry.

No matter how disciplined Kol was — or how practiced the rest of his siblings might be — they were predators. And humans, even witches like me, we would always be prey. A thousand years of restraint still didn’t guarantee a human’s safety. Even now, here at a sunny seaside restaurant, surrounded by laughter and citrus cocktails — danger sat quietly at our table.

I was the only thing standing between my husband and every unsuspecting human in this place. I’d put down an Original before — and I wasn’t above doing it again. Even the one who had once killed me, the same one I loved more than anyone else on this Earth.

Our love wasn't about blind devotion to one another, it never was. It was about choosing each other, over and over — even when the cost was heavy. And trust me, it had been heavy on more than one occasion. Even before marrying Kol, being with an Original was no walk in the park. Our relationship took effort and hard work on both sides. I was okay with that, I always had been.

The second reason was the most heartbreaking. “You’re immortal. I’m not,” I reminded him softly. “And the children we adopt? They wouldn’t be, either. Unless they — unless you sired them, once they were old enough to make an educated, life-changing, adult decision.”

I felt the shift in his aura immediately — not anger, not rage. Grief. A solemn, heavy sorrow that I couldn’t fully name. Was Kol already mourning my final death, years before it ever arrived? Or was it the idea of siring future children — damning them to the same eternal hunger — just so they could stay with him always and forever?

“I meant every word of my vows to you, Davina Mikaelson,” Kol murmured. His hand tightened around mine, then with effortless vamp-speed and strength, he tugged me into his lap across the table. Not a single drink spilled. Not a single fork shifted. Of course not, something like this was easy as pie for my husband.

I gasped and let out a surprised giggle, wrapping my arms around his neck. Our foreheads nearly touched, his eyes gazing into mine like they were trying to memorize every fleck of color. “I will always want whatever you want, Dav,” he said. “If you want to adopt children when our traveling days are behind us, then that’s what I want, too.”

Slowly, tenderly, Kol reached up to tuck a strand of my hair behind my ear. His fingers drifted to my cheek, warm and reassuring. “If you’d rather have a biological child someday,” he whispered, “I wouldn’t deny you that.” A small, crooked smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. “I won’t sugarcoat it, love — I might need to be put in time-out for a while, just to stop myself from doing something stupid to the man you choose to make you a mother.”

The butterflies in my stomach swirled again, and I was pretty sure my heart rate had spiked through the roof. Who would I even consider…? Everyone we knew and loved was undead — sterile, eternal, and completely incapable of making babies. 

Well… almost everyone. I doubted Hayley would ever allow her husband to do the honors of making me a mother. Then, of course… Aidan. Josh would ask him in a heartbeat — because Josh loved me that much. But it felt unfair to Aidan, even just to ask. How would I even begin to go about asking something like that?

“Hey Joshiekinz… Kol and I have been talking about becoming parents." To which Josh would immediately point out the obvious: “Babes, I hate to break it to you, but he hasn’t shot a living swimmer in a millennium. Try as he might.” I could even see Josh’s flirty, completely teasing grin in my mind.

“Yeah… that’s why I’ve got a big favor to ask you.” I could already see the confused look that would spread across Josh’s face. His first instinct would be that I was asking for his sperm — but then it would dawn on him. “You, me, Aidan, and a jealousy-riddled, homicidal Kol… one big happy supernatural family,” Josh would tease, probably while sipping an iced coffee like it was no big deal.

That’s why I loved Josh and how we’d become such fast friends a decade ago. I was the coven outcast, hiding in the attic of St. Ann’s for my protection. He was a newly turned vampire who was an outcast as a newbie, and had been an outcast as a human. He wasn’t an outcast to me — his sexuality never mattered, and it shouldn’t have mattered to anyone else who actually cared about him, either.

But it wasn’t the weight of asking Josh and Aidan that was triggering an anxiety spiral. It was digesting the gravity of what Kol had just said — needing to be put into time-out. In other words, my husband was self-aware enough to know just how jealous he’d be. That he might need to be daggered for a little while, just to keep himself from killing the man who’d gotten me pregnant.

Kol had already been daggered too many times over the last thousand years and I never wanted to be the reason he’d go through it again. If anyone understood what that felt like — beyond his siblings — it was me. I knew the nothingness. The void. The crushing loneliness that came with being trapped in your own mind, with no end in sight. We both knew a version of death in more ways than one.

The air felt heavy — thick in my lungs — as I sat in Kol’s lap, teetering on the edge of a full-blown existential crisis. “Dav, love. You’re okay,” Kol murmured, stroking my cheek with one hand while the other rubbed gently over my arm, his touch soft even through the sleeve of my jacket. “I know,” I whispered, releasing a soft sigh as I laid my head on his shoulder and let him hold me. 

I was holding up the rest of our lunch and delaying our return to New Orleans. But right now? I just needed to be in my husband’s arms. I needed to close my eyes and to listen to the sound of his heartbeat along with the ocean in the background. I needed to ground myself — in his scent, in the saltwater hanging in the air, in the warmth of him holding me like nothing else mattered. 

I needed this moment with him before we went home. One more memory of just the two of us — Mr. and Mrs. Kol Mikaelson — before diving back into the occasional chaos of the French Quarter. Right now, I was exactly where I’d always want to be. 

At home — in his arms.

(9,925 words -- roughly 38 pages.)

Notes:

Oh my word - I didn't mean to leave you guys hanging for nearing a month. We've been in a heat-wave and having severe weather (flash flooding being the biggest threat) multiple days a week for a couple weeks now. Most of my time has been consumed with my new kitty, I've named her Freya Geneva. She's a lil' black and white (tuxedo) kitty.

I've had such a great time writing this new Chapter 19 and I've left it on an emotional cliffhanger for a reason. Yes, you guessed it... I'm writing a new Chapter 20. Another new point of view (three guesses who...). That said, I likely *won't* have it done in a week, but I'm hoping to have it done faster than it took me to get this one on here. The good news is, after the new Chapter 20... Chapter 21 is already good to go. It'll tie in very nicely to what's already written in 21, and it'll tie in great to the end of Chapter 17 as well.

We've got a family reunion coming up on the 26th, and then I *really* need to get this family history binder done for a client. After I get that finished, I'll probably allow myself a week of 'me time' to work on my story and just lose myself in the world I'm building here.

Story stats! AO3 says we're up to 132,214 words in only 18 Chapters. That number has certainly increased with the hard work and edits I've put into Chapters 1 through 18. As of right now, I'm at 3,962 views/readers (I thought about letting it hit 4,000 before I updated but, that's unfair on y'all!) 26 kudos. 38 subscribers. 38 bookmarks. 4 people have even 'user subscribed' to me. Thank you all so much!

I've also re-made a few photos from Chapters 1 - 18, if you go back and have a look. I had Grok remake a few of the Bing photographs so they'd look more like my face-claims (Ksenia as Vandalia, Daniel as Elijah, obviously, etc...) and slightly less 'anime/cartoonish.' A few of them turned out squeal worthy wonderful (to me, at least.)

One thing you'll notice in the photos here in this chapter... Grok doesn't know Nathan Dean Parsons's face. I HATE that it doesn't. In my heart, there could never nor will there ever be a better Jackson Kenner than Nathan. (Not to mention, Nathan is a FINE lookin' guy, okay? I'm not just a Klaus and Elijah girl, y'all. I swoon over Jack, too, lol.) However, for Grok purposes... Ben Barnes is my Jackson. I *love* how the photos in this chapter turned out, Davina reminiscing about her winter wedding. I feel like we TVDU fans were robbed so much by not getting to see a gorgeous Kolvina wedding. I hope I'm not the only one.

You'll also notice, as established in earlier chapters but I thought I'd reiterate it - my story is very clearly a/u in the fact that Jackson is still alive, Aidan, Josh, Hayley, Camille, and even Father K. The list goes on, really. They all play such huge roles in Vandalia's story and I'm still so excited for you all to read more, diving down the rabbit hole with me.

Thank you for reading, subscribing, leaving kudos, and more! xoxox

Chapter 20: Kol's Point of View

Summary:

“Welcome to the Quarter, where the blood never stops flowing and the party never ends. That is… if your idea of a party is secretive witches, rabid wolves, and vampires willing to do anything to stay on top.”

Chapter Twenty:

Home Is Where the Drama Is: Shifting of the Sands

“I don’t want this to sound patronizing — but you’re still young, Dav,” I murmured softly into her ear, holding her tight against my chest. This was one of the most honest, heartfelt conversations we’d had in ages. 

“No decisions have to be made today, or tomorrow. Not this year, or even the next. I just needed you to know where I stand, darling — that whatever path you choose for us, I’ll be walking it right beside you.” 

I could already feel her relaxing, her heartbeat slowing beneath my hand. She sighed, contentedly — and I echoed it. Not out of mockery, but because I felt it too. For once, everything felt right. Despite the weight of our conversation, this moment was truly perfect.

Like Davina, I was excited to return to New Orleans and see our family… but I wasn’t ready to give up this moment. Five years of marriage. Five years of wandering the world with her — and I still couldn’t get enough.  Not of it, and certainly not of her.

I knew she felt the same — she’d said as much — but there was no way Davina could ever truly grasp how deep this ran for me. I’d waited a thousand years to be loved the way she loves me. It had been a long thousand years and she had been more than worth the wait.

“C’mon, love,” I murmured softly and kissed the side of her head. “Let’s finish this delicious food and down these drinks, yeah?” As she pulled her head back from my shoulder, a little smile had returned to her lips which put my heart and mind at ease.



“You’re just dying for another sip of that Cajun Mary,” Davina teased slipping out of my lap and settling back across the picnic table with a roll of her eyes. “Mary’s quite delicious today,” I murmured and did just that, taking a long drink of the spicy alcoholic beverage. 

“You taste even better,” I added with a grin, watching the soft blush rise to her cheeks. “You’re going to make me choke on a piece of crab, Kol.” Dav gave me a look while swallowing a bite of her salad. A wicked little smirk tugged at my lips, my fangs daring to start showing. 

“I could give you something even better to choke on.” It slipped out before I could stop it — bold, even for me. My wife’s face wasn’t only pink now… it had turned a deadly shade of red. I’d crossed a line, an invisible one — out in public, no less. I watched as Davina grabbed for her daiquiri and started to sip on it as if her life depended on it.



“I’m sorry, darling. That one might’ve crossed a line,” I mumbled. “You’re the worst, Kol Mikaelson,” she muttered, sipping her drink like it was holy water. “Sometimes I don’t even know why I married you.” 

I could hear the edge to her voice — teetering between seriousness and joking. I chuckled when she took the tiniest piece of lettuce from her salad and flung it my way. In return, I flung the smallest shrimp left on my plate in her direction.

Intentionally, it landed right on her salad and she rolled her eyes. “Just what my crab salad needed — shrimp,” Davina said while forking the lone shrimp with her next bite of salad. “Glad I could be of service, love,” I said, all smug satisfaction. 

I’d spent a thousand years learning how to be bad — but she’s the one who taught me how to tease with tenderness. Somehow, she still turned me into a gentleman. A mostly well-behaved one. 

Our banter faded into softer conversation as we finished our lunch and drinks. I could have kept teasing Davina until she couldn’t stand it — I usually do — but I could tell she appreciated the gentler rhythm. Truth be told? So did I. 

After the bill was paid, we hit the road again — the second leg of our trip back to the Quarter. I could’ve taken I-10 straight out of Biloxi, but I wanted to savor the ocean view a bit longer. We merged onto the interstate just before Slidell, and as we passed through, Marcel’s text replayed in my head and made me chuckle all over again. 

I wouldn’t trade what Davina and I have now for anything — but I’d be lying if I said I never wondered what life might’ve looked like if I’d stayed that dapper young warlock. I thought back to the first time she met the real me — not Kaleb, not the borrowed shell I’d been crammed into, but me. 



I remembered the fear — that she wouldn’t recognize me. Worse than that? That she wouldn’t want me. That she wouldn’t be able to love the thousand-year-old Original vampire behind the new-to-her face. And yet… she knew me instantly. I remember wondering if one of my siblings had shown her a photo, or maybe whispered a description in her ear. 

Was the familial resemblance that strong? People had often said I mirrored my brother, Elijah, when it came to looks. Nik? He and Rebekah took after our mother, there was no question about that. Finn and Freya? They were the only two that seemed to have both Mikael and Esther in them — a perfect blend.



I remembered our first kiss — our real kiss, in my real body. The one I was born into. The man I’d been for a thousand years. At first, she’d pulled back. Said it was an “adjustment.” That I felt… "different." I reminded her of our last night together, how we danced. 

She looked up at me with that cheeky little grin of hers and said, “And for the record, I like this face just fine.” That moment still echoes in my chest. I swear I felt it in me bones. I was a ghost on the other side at the time, and yet that moment between us still ranked in my top ten… maybe even my top five. 



Davina fell in love with the face of a handsome young man and although I was still a handsome young man in this body, I didn’t look like the man she’d fallen in love with. She’d fallen in love with a set of icy blue eyes and mine? They were dark brown. My accent might have remained, but the sound of my voice was different. All of me was different.

Maybe… maybe she recognized my soul. I know I’d recognize hers — in any body, any life, any century. I was certain of it. I’d stake everything on it. Death had already taken her twice — just like it had me. And if it ever tried again? I’d search for her in every face I passed for the next thousand years… and I would find her. 

Before Davina, I didn’t believe in soulmates. Not really. I’d never loved anyone enough to want to believe in them. Fate, destiny, happily ever after — whatever you wanted to call it — my family was living proof that those things were myths. 

My little sister said it best: “We are the strongest creatures in the world, and yet we're damaged beyond repair. We lived without hope, but we will never die. We are the definition of cursed — always and forever.”

I’ve watched my siblings fall in love a handful of times over the last millennium. Niklaus and Elijah both went soft for the same mortal woman in our village — a widow named Tatia. Centuries later, they both fell for her doppelgänger, Katerina. 

Finn had found himself an eternal mate once — Sage. A real firecracker, that one. Rebekah? She’s always been a hopeless romantic, but I’d never seen her look at anyone the way she looks at Marcel Gerard. That love was mutual. One-hundred percent. 

I saw the beginnings of Nik’s little flirtation with that hot blonde piece of tail back in Mystic Falls — Caroline. Right before all her pals teamed up and murdered me. Dying’s a real pain in the ass — especially when you’re supposed to be completely and wholly immortal. 

When I came back, I found I much preferred the gorgeous blonde he’d found in New Orleans — Camille O’Connell. Elijah had someone new, too. A cunning young werewolf named Hayley. Nik’s sloppy seconds. Then again, that’s always been Elijah’s style. The only woman Elijah had ever loved that Nik hadn’t gotten his bloody hands on was Celeste Dubois — and that was way back in the early 1800s. 

And yet — for both of them — love didn’t last. What Cami went through, becoming a vampire… she laid all that misery at Niklaus and Marcel’s feet. It was a paradox, really. Some might call it an oxymoron. As a human, Cami had no problem having a fling with Marcel or falling in love with Niklaus. But becoming a vampire herself? That, she couldn’t stomach.

I get it. Her family had a legacy to uphold in the Quarter and apparently an O’Connell becoming a vampire was repugnant. At first, she swore she wasn’t going to feed. “I’d rather die!” she said. And she would’ve — if she hadn’t given in and completed the transition. 

After Davina brought me back, I told Nik there was still hope for him and Cami. He looked at me like I was insane. “She decided to feed, didn’t she?” I argued. “Let her cool off for a decade or two, Nik. If she loves you the way you think she does… she’ll come back.” 

Took him about a year to thank me for that pep talk. I just wish Cami would show her face back in the Quarter — if only to keep me from looking like a liar. At least these days we’ve got the miracle of Facebook. She’s got us all added, and every now and again, she drops a comment on someone’s post. 

Just the other day, Davina posted a beautiful photo of the sunset from the beach. Cami commented: “There’s nothing like a Gulf sunset, is there?” Davina replied: “Catch me for the next one? I miss you.” At first, Dav had been a bit downcast, thinking Cami wouldn’t respond. But this morning, she woke up to a reply: “I miss you, too. Maybe I will, soon.” 

Cami O’Connell would probably never know just how much joy that one little comment brought my wife — like a spring rain after a long drought. No offense taken, but I don’t think anything I’ve done in five years of marriage has lit up Davina’s face quite like that. And honestly? I was glad for it. 

As for Elijah? In a way, I felt more sympathy for him than even Nik. For the first time in his long life… the woman he loved chose someone else. Hayley fell for the Alpha of the Crescent wolves — her pack. She chose her heritage. The man she’d unknowingly been betrothed to as an infant. She chose loyalty. A cause. Her people. 

My poor, honorable brother. Everyone knew Hayley still loved him — even now. It didn’t take away from what she felt for her husband. They’d been married eight years. But it didn’t change the way she looked at Elijah either. 

Elijah hadn’t been selfish a single day in his immortal life. We all kept waiting for the moment he’d crack — the day he’d finally put his heart before his honor and tear apart a happy home. But he didn’t. And I think the only reason why… was Vandalia LaRue. Maybe Hayley wasn’t his soulmate after all. 

As for me? It’s been a long five years of traveling with my wife. And every now and then — like now — I have to remind myself that Davina’s only human. A powerful witch, sure — but still human. We’ve seen more, done more, lived more in the past few years than most women her age will in a lifetime. 

We loved each other. Loved each other’s company. But it was when others joined us — here and there — that Davina really lit up. Second summer of our travels — we were down in the Keys. Took her to a nice little place for dinner, and afterward, I told her I had a surprise waiting back at the hotel. 



My darling wife thought I meant champagne. Chocolates. Maybe something a little… naughtier. Imagine her surprise when it was Josh and Aidan. They spent four unforgettable days with us — soaking up sun, laughter, and everything the Keys had to offer — before heading back to New Orleans. 

A year and a half later — Christmastime in New York City. We were ice-skating at Rockefeller Center. I’ll never forget the sound Davina made when someone whisked her right out of my arms while we were cozied up, practically dancing to a slow song while on the ice. At first, a shriek — startled, unsure. Then she realized who it was. 



My little sister, Rebekah, and Marcel had decided to surprise us — spend the rest of the trip in the Big Apple with us until we flew home for the actual holiday. It wasn’t just Davina’s happiness that moved me each time. It was Josh and Aidan, grinning ear to ear in Florida. Rebekah and Marcel lighting up New York. 

Whether it was Josh drunkenly belting karaoke, Aidan reeling in his first big catch at sea, or Davina — glowing, skating beside Marcel — the two of them staring up at that massive Christmas tree, whispering: “If I get nothing else for Christmas this year… this is enough.” Those were the memories no one could take from us. Pure happiness. Blissful joy. Untouchable. 

“Now it’s my turn to ask if you’re enjoying yourself. You look like you’re a million miles away,” Davina’s voice pulled me back to the present. I let out a soft laugh and glanced over at her with a grin. “Where’d you go, Kol? You’ve missed the last few songs — and you always sing along.” 

“I was just thinking about how lucky I am to be your husband, Davina Claire. About all the moments we’ve shared — the good, the bad… and the ones we haven’t made yet.” I reached over and took her left hand with my right, letting my thumb brush over her wedding ring before I brought it to my lips and pressed a kiss to the back of it. 

“Kol,” she whispered, her cheeks blushing a soft pink. “When you say things like that, it reminds me I married the most romantic Mikaelson brother.” I laughed, lips curving into what Davina liked to call my arrogant bastard grin. “That you did, beautiful. Not that my brothers don’t have their… methods. Nik’s got his paintings, and Elijah? He’s got his infallibility.” 

“You’re the perfect mix,” Davina murmured. “You show love through your wanderlust… and in the way you spoil me rotten.” Her cheeks flushed deeper the second she said it. “What’s that old saying? Happy wife, happy life?” I teased.

The day I said “I do” to Davina, I swore her happiness would be my top priority in life. The way she was smiling at me right now? Not to be cocky… but I think I’m doing a damn good job. 

“It already smells like beignets,” Davina cooed, cracking the window just as we rolled into the Quarter. A rush of sugar, fried dough, chicory coffee, and something distinctly home filled the car. Even I had to smile — and with my senses? I could smell ten things she couldn’t. We were home. 

“After we get settled, we could walk to the Café,” I offered, and just like that — she beamed with a bright smile. The second I parked, she was out of the car and halfway to the front gate. Did I mind? Not at all. But I’m the joker, remember? I had to act like I was miffed, even when I wasn’t. 

 I got out and chuckled, calling after her even though she was already long gone and out of earshot: “Oh, no, that’s fine, darling. Don’t worry about the bags. I’ll just carry every last one myself. You go on ahead.” By the time I’d wrangled all our luggage through the front gate, there she was — wrapped up in a warm reunion hug with Marcel. 



“Well, well, well. Look what the witch dragged in,” Marcel teased, arms around Davina. “No dragging required… unless you’re talking about me hauling all those bloody bags,” I mused. Davina met my gaze with a sheepish little smile — her silent apology. “I’m just playing, love,” I smirked. “I’ll get these upstairs real quick.” 

Within the privacy of the compound, I vamped our bags upstairs without breaking a sweat. There were little changes I noticed right away — things Davina probably wouldn’t pick up on until bedtime, if she even noticed them then. Fresh linens. Tidy corners. A chair or two moved just slightly from where we left them, and a dresser moved to a new spot.



Marcel’s scent still lingered — recent. He must’ve done a last-minute sweep to make sure everything was perfect for our arrival. Well, not for me, obviously. For Davina. As quickly as I vamped up, I was right back down in the courtyard — where the reunion continued. 

“Our room looks good,” I murmured, sliding into their conversation. Davina raised a brow. “I told you guys not to go through any trouble—” Marcel cut her off with a laugh. “Trouble? D, fresh linens and a bit of dusting hardly count as effort,” he mused.

“No, the real effort went into Vandalia’s room,” Marcel added breezily, leaning against the edge of a large table. “Her own room? Already?” Davina asked, crossing her arms in disbelief. “I’ve got to hand it to my brother — when he’s serious about a woman…” I didn’t need to finish the thought. Marcel and Davina knew. 

“That isn’t even half of it,” Marcel said, lowering his voice as he glanced toward the front gate as if to make sure no one else was about to walk in. “The real show of commitment? He bought a house in her hometown.” I chuckled as everything clicked into place. “So that’s what Elijah’s been so tight-lipped about in the group texts. He’s stark raving mad for this one, isn’t he?” 

Marcel smirked and nodded. “You know how long I’ve known him — but I’ve never seen him like this. Not with Celeste. Hell, not even with Hayley.” Marcel’s words surprised my wife more than they did me. Admittedly, Davina had become better friends with Hayley than I’d ever had the chance to. Not that I didn’t like the little spitfire — I certainly did. 

Hayley was one of many women my wife bonded with while I was dead the second time — that strange in-between period after Kaleb, before I came back as myself. Even Hayley’s husband, Jackson — I can’t say I know the fellow that well. He seemed a respectable chap no matter what Nik had to say about him. 

“She’s a witch, Davina. Clairvoyant, too,” Marcel said in a hushed voice. “Her last name is LaRue,” Davina whispered, as if the name alone explained everything. As if Davina believed Marcel shouldn’t be that surprised that Vandalia was a witch and a psychic one at that. 

“Nah. Freya’s convinced her magic is matrilineal — like her own. Besides, what would any of the LaRue family be doing in Kentucky?” Marcel asked. Davina just shrugged. It was the only answer she had. 

“I knew a few LaRue’s back in the day, before Nik shoved me in a casket for nearly a century. Most of ‘em are dead now, I’d think.” When I said that, Marcel and I shared a knowing look. “All except Josephine,” Davina said, her tone laced with quiet respect.

“All I’m saying is, it ran in the family. Josephine is a Clairvoyant, yeah? Mary-Alice, Astrid, Laura, and I… we were quite the formidable team back in the day.” The second I mentioned Mary-Alice, Davina shot me a look. “It was 1914, love. Claire witches have always been powerful,” I reminded her. 

“Laura was a LaRue, I’m guessing?” Davina asked. I nodded. “Josephine’s daughter — clairvoyant, just like her. I only wish she’d foreseen Nik daggering me at that Christmas party. I’d have made other plans for that night. Would’ve been sad to have stood Freya up as her date but, sure wish I could have enjoyed the 1900s more than I did.”

I can’t regret it too much. Looking back, I’m glad I didn’t put down Niklaus. Besides, that Christmas soirée? It was the first time we ever met our darling sister, Freya — not that I knew it then. None of us did. When Davina brought me back in this body, we met once more — at last as brother and sister.

I’d recognized her immediately as my date from a hundred years ago. I remembered thinking what a fool I’d been to not recognize myself, any of our siblings — hell, even our own parents in her. Freya admitted she knew who we were and she saw the Christmas Ball as a way to meet us. Even if it wasn’t as siblings that night. 

Freya played well to her part, too. Even now, a part of me blushed at the heated kisses we exchanged that night. She knew we were siblings and yet she did not reveal her true identity for fear we all might reject her. After all, our parents had told us of her demise our entire life. The only one of us she ever knew was Finn and in 1914? He rested comfortable in a casket. Right beside the one Nik shoved me into that night…

“Seeing the future is obviously hit-or-miss,” Marcel said. “Didn’t all three of them end up in the Fauline Cottage?” Davina nodded. “Freya and Rebekah brought back journals they found belonging to my Great-Great-Grandmother and her two friends. I never would have known I was Mary-Alice’s descendant without them.”

“Oh, the webs witches can weave,” I mused, taking a seat. A basket of apples sat on the courtyard table — I knew exactly where they were from. I picked one up, tossed it in the air a few times, then bit into it with a grin. 



“Speaking of webs,” Marcel said as he took a seat across from me, grabbing an apple of his own. Davina sat down beside me — but instead of grabbing one for herself, she cheekily snatched the one I was eating and took a dramatic bite. 

“Rebekah said not to drag you into anything, but—” Marcel started. “I can feel it,” Davina cut in softly, handing me back the apple. “The second we crossed over Lake Pontchartrain, it hit me.” I curiously raised a brow. “Why didn’t you say anything, love?” I asked before taking another bite.

“Because I don’t know exactly what it is. I didn’t feel it last time we were home, back at Christmas. Something’s different now… like the sands have shifted.” She extended her hands out over the table as she spoke. Marcel and I watched as she moved her hands to the rhythm of a song we couldn’t hear — and slowly, impossibly, sand began to gather across the table’s surface that wasn’t there a moment ago.

“Freya’s had a feeling that something was coming for months,” Marcel admitted. “The second she met Vandalia last night? The feeling disappeared. I’m grateful as hell for it, too. Klaus’s paranoia was starting to affect even Elijah. Freya had us convinced that it was something bad. You know she’s rarely ever wrong.”

As Davina moved her hands, so did the sand. “Whatever is going on, it’s a lot like ten years ago. The witches are antsy… nervous. The wolves? Itching for a brawl. They’re fighting against each other again, and they’re dragging my men into it. I asked Rebekah this morning if history always had to repeat itself.”

“You live as long as we have and you start to notice patterns,” I said without having to know Rebekah’s answer to Marcel’s question. I knew what it was — yes, history always repeated itself. Davina had closed her eyes and started repeating a phrase in Latin over and over: Quid mutatum est? Da mihi signum.



“Those gold sparkles are back,” I pointed out and she gave me the infamous side-eye look I always got from her when I interrupted her concentration. I put my hands up in defense and looked over at Marcel. Sometimes, Marcel was hard to read — a bit like Elijah, if I’m being honest. He’d perfected the infamous poker face. 

After a few tense moments, it was as if an invisible finger began to trace letters into the sand. “Fila fati,” Davina whispered when the sand stopped moving. “Latin?” Marcel asked and I nodded my head. “I’m a bit rusty, love. Isn’t fati… fate?” 



“I asked for a sign — Fila fati is threads of fate. Whatever is at work right now… it’s predestined. Like something ancient has returned.” With each word my wife spoke, Marcel’s poker face was starting to chip away. “What do you know?” I prodded.

“It’s not exactly my story to tell. But I will say this — it’ll answer your questions about the threads of fate… and maybe that gold-colored magic you’ve started tossing around. You’ll find out soon enough, Elijah and Klaus should be home from the faction meeting at any minute.”

Davina raised a curious brow but the look on her face gave her away. She was already drawing the same conclusion that I was. “This involves Vandalia, doesn’t it?” Davina asked and Marcel shrugged. “It may have everything to do with her, or it may have completely nothing to do with her.”

Davina and I both wanted to pry — but it sounded like answers were coming whether we were ready or not. “I’m sorry to have you plunging back into the world of witchcraft the second you get home,” he apologized. My wife merely shrugged. “I could be a million miles away and the witch world always drags me back. Willing or not.”

“The witch world or my siblings, love?” The question fell from my mouth before I could stop it. Instead of an elbow to the ribs, Davina glanced over at me with a surprisingly playful grin. “It’s always been a fair bit of both.” 

“Enough with the heavy for now, alright?” Marcel’s tone was firm but there was a playfulness beneath it. I could tell he had answers to questions we had, but he wasn’t going to answer them any time soon. “How has the past month in Florida been? The road trip? Tell me all about it.”

“As if we haven’t spammed the group chat and Facebook enough already,” I said, finishing the apple with a dramatic chomp. I started to stand from the table and kissed the top of Davina’s head. “I’m going to toss this and get us a cup of coffee, love. Do you want anything else while I’m in the kitchen?”

“Coffee sounds really good, thank you babe,” Dav murmured and looked up to meet my eyes with a smile. “Shall I top yours off, mate?” I offered Marcel and he chuckled. “There you go calling me mate again,” he playfully rolled his eyes and offered me his cup. “I can’t very well call you ‘brother-in-law’ when you haven’t grown a pair and proposed to my sister yet, now can I?”

Marcel sucked in a sharp breath and laughed. “Ouch, that one actually hurt.” I smirked while walking away with his cup. Good, I’d wanted it to hurt — just a little anyway. They’d been off and on for two centuries. It was high time my little sister had a rock the size of a beignet on her ring finger. 



When I made it to the kitchen, I poured myself and my wife each a hot cup of coffee, topping off Marcel’s while I was at it. Marcel was like me — when you’ve been alive this long, you learn to drink your coffee black. That said, every now and then we’d add a splash of milk and a spoonful of sugar — just to break up the monotony. 

Davina? My beautiful wife came from a younger generation — one that enjoyed iced lattes, cappuccinos, and something called a ‘frappuccino.’ I think that’s a frozen cappuccino… but don’t quote me on it. No matter how many times I’d taken her to Starbucks or Dunkin’ Donuts, I still wasn’t fluent in their new-age coffee jargon. 

Living in New Orleans, I was familiar with our hometown shops, especially the Café du Monde. The first time I accompanied Davina into a Starbucks, it was while I was in the body of a witch. I remember my eyes going cross at all the different choices, even the names for the sizes. What ever happened to a good old-fashioned cup of coffee? Small, medium, or large — none of this venti business. 

And then all of the milk options! Whole, two percent, one percent, or completely fat free. Then there was soy, oat, almond, and goat. Show me the nipple on an almond, I dare you! The first time Davina ordered a venti iced white chocolate mocha latte with almond milk, an extra shot of espresso, and extra whipped cream — my head had started to spin. ‘I’ll never get your coffee order right, love,’ I’d teased her. 

At home, though? Her order was blissfully simple — a hot cup with a splash of creamer and two sugars. Thankfully she wasn’t picky with the flavor of creamer. If none was available? She’d go for plain milk. I opened the refrigerator and grabbed a bottle of French vanilla creamer to add a splash in Dav’s coffee, then added the two teaspoons of sugar.



When I finished, I noticed the faint remnants of a pancake breakfast still lingering. I chuckled to myself. Of course Elijah made his new girlfriend breakfast. And not just any breakfast — his infamous pancakes. 

Even this many hours later, Vandalia’s scent lingered in the kitchen. It was faint, but for such a sensitive nose, I could distinguish it from my siblings because of her humanity. If she smelled this good without even being in the room, I feared just how intoxicating she’d be up close. 

As I walked back towards the courtyard with our coffees, I slowed so that I could hear a little of Davina’s conversation with Marcel. Not that I was being a snoop — not entirely, at least. I just liked watching her sometimes… to remind myself what a lucky bastard I was to be loved by her. Even more so… to be married to her.

“It sounds like you’ve had an incredible time in Florida,” Marcel said. “It really was incredible. We saw and did so much and in a strange way, it started to feel like home. Falling asleep and waking up in the same place… it became a routine. And I kind of liked that.” 

I could tell that Marcel was understanding where Dav was coming from. Me? I entirely understood it. It’s why I’d chosen for us to stay as long as we did. Davina was right, it had started to feel like home in a way. Not like the Quarter… but maybe a home away from home. 

“I’ve loved all the traveling,” Davina continued, “but I enjoy it even more when we stay in one place longer than just a few days or a week. We’ve been so many places, if I didn’t write them down in my journal, I’d forget some of them.” 

“So, does that mean you’re ready to stay put for a while?” Marcel asked. I heard the tiniest sigh and I could see a disheartened look on Davina’s face. “I think it would break Kol’s heart, the thought of choosing one place to settle down for a while. I was honestly shocked that he decided to stay in Florida for a whole month,” her voice trailed.

“Or maybe… he’s picked up on your burnout without you even realizing it?” I couldn’t help but laugh under my breath. There was no question my wife knew me — probably better than anyone. But Marcel? Marcel understood me in ways Davina never could. We were both the undead. Time flowed differently for us than it did for her. Sometimes I had to remind myself of that. 

“I hadn’t thought about that,” Davina whispered and once more a tiny sigh escaped her. “I don’t want to stop traveling forever, but… I don’t know how to tell him I’d like to stay home for a while. If we do travel again, I’d want it to be another Florida — someplace we can stay a month or more, get to know it, fall in love with it.” 



“D, Kol’s devotion for you… it’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen before. Especially when it comes to him. I’ve seen Elijah love, and Klaus, and of course you know I’m at the receiving end when it comes from Bekah. Kol? There’s never been a woman like you for him. You really think he’d let just anyone become Mrs. Kol Mikaelson?” Marcel teased. 

“That still hits me like a ton of bricks sometimes,” Davina giggled. “A thousand plus years old and it’s me he chose to marry. I don’t think another woman could ever put up with him,” she mused rather playfully. I couldn’t help but grin from where I was standing. 

“Oh, I know you’re right about that,” Marcel laughed, loud and genuine. Then he looked at Dav rather seriously. “I think Kol would tell you that home is wherever you are. And if you want to stay right here? Then you’re already home.” 

Marcel’s words tugged at my heart. That’s exactly what I wanted to say to Davina. It was time. Traveling with her had been life-changing. We’d made so many memories, and the memories weren’t stopping. They were just about to take a different shape. Right here in the town we both loved, with the people we loved. 

“It’s no Starbucks, love,” I finally announced my presence, stepping into the courtyard with three cups in hand, “but I hope it’ll do for tonight.” Davina beamed up at me as she took her cup. “He spoils me with the good stuff whenever we’re out of town.” 

“Trust me,” Marcel chuckled, “my wallet’s gone on life support thanks to Rebekah’s caffeine addiction.” I couldn’t help but to snicker — just like my little sister to make her beau cater to her vices. “And from what I heard, your brothers’ wallets are going to hurt from Vandalia’s coffee addiction, too.” Ah, so Elijah’s new girlfriend was a caffeine connoisseur, eh? Sounds like she would get along just fine with the rest of us.

“Speaking of which…” I glanced at my watch. “If they’re still shopping, may the bank accounts rest in peace.” The words made Marcel laugh harder than I’d heard in quite some time. “Took the words right out of my mouth, I swear,” he said while still cackling. He showed me on his phone a short text exchange between him and Elijah earlier. Davina glanced at it and rolled her eyes.

“Now that’s just spooky,” Davina giggled in between sips of coffee. “I always thought you were a mix of Klaus and Elijah. But now I’m starting to think… you’ve got a little bit of everyone in you.” I couldn’t help but chuckle, a boyish grin appearing on my face. “That’s why you married me, love. I got a bit of ‘em all in me. Surprisingly, even you, Marcel.”

“Comparing me to that heathen? Really, D? I’m torn,” Marcel joked while putting his hand to his heart, acting as if he’d just been staked. “I definitely see who Kol gets his theatrics from,” she laughed and glared over at me playfully. “Oh no. I’m an Original model, darling. Marcel got the theatrics from me, not the other way around.”

“Oh please,” Marcel laughed so hard he snorted. “You weren’t out of a casket long enough for me to inherit much from you, if anything at all.” I couldn’t even argue that because it was the damn truth. “At least you got the better parts of my brothers, or I wouldn’t be able to tolerate you,” I smirked after another sip of coffee.

“Where are they again? A faction meeting? Surely it’s not still going on,” Davina lit up her phone screen to check the time. Ah, new age technology. Here I felt fancy wearing a watch. My wife? Her generation used their phone for everything. “A lot to talk about, I guess. Trying to get down to the bottom of this,” Marcel murmured as he slid Davina todays newspaper.



The headline on the front page? Gas explosion in a waterside warehouse kills ten. I was guessing there was way more to the story than that. “Ten of my best night-walkers. No idea if it was other vampires, wolves, or even the witches that done it. All I know is, it was a damn mess — and it had to be cleaned up.” 

“I imagine that meant a long night for you, eh?” I asked and Marcel shook his head. “Rebekah put the leash on me last night. Elijah arriving with Vandalia? No way that your sister was allowing me to miss that. I had Josh and Aidan lead the charge. Which reminds me… Josh says hey.”

As soon as Marcel said his name, Davina lit up. Only for that brightness to flicker and fade a moment later. “He came to pick up the paychecks and I told him you were arriving at any time, that he was welcome to hang around until you got here. He said he had promised Aidan a real date considering it was payday.”

“It would have been nice to see him,” she murmured. “He’s a man of his word and if he promised Aidan a date, then I’m hoping they’re having a wonderful time.” Despite the kindness of her words, I could hear the sadness they were laced with. 

“He’ll be here for Easter, he swore that,” Marcel said as he placed a hand upon Davina’s. “It looks like you’re ready for the big day, too.” It made her smile when he noticed her Easter-themed manicure. “It isn’t too much, is it? Kol insisted Rebekah would have hers done.”

“It wouldn’t surprise me if all three women come in with Easter themed manicures,” Marcel said while laughing. “Not to mention a thousand-dollar wardrobe each,” I teased. “Probably just for Easter dinner,” I added. “From what Bekah was saying, it sounded like Vandalia was in need of the shopping spree.”

For the next little while, Marcel told us a little bit more about Vandalia. Just things he’d picked up on since meeting her last night, things Elijah had mentioned about her personal life. We’d also stood from the courtyard and walked around a bit after my wife had complained: “I’ve sat on my ass for way too long today.” 



Eventually, the conversation drifted back to stories from the road — the places we’d been, the people we’d met since Christmas. I was in the middle of a story when I heard the rattle of the front gate. Three guesses who was home — and the first two don’t count. 

(6,583 words -- roughly 24 pages.)

Notes:

I'm so glad that I kept to my word and am able to update you guys with Chapter 20 so much faster than I did with Chapter 19. I imagine a lot of you guessed that this would be in Kol's POV, and if you did -- you were correct! This chapter will tie in beautifully to the end of Chapter 17, and to the next chapter which is already written and ready to go! :)

Story stats as of updating - 142,126 words in 19 chapters. 4,264 views/reads (holy wow!) 27 kudos. 40 subscriptions. 47 bookmarks. Thank you all SO much!

Life update - our heat-wave finally broke. Yesterday (Wednesday) was the last day of unbearable heat. Today (July 31) was a quiet day. It would have been my Grandpa's 89th birthday. It's also the day that I chose for Klaus Mikaelson's birthday in this story (since none of the Originals have canon birth dates, just 'approximate' years.) Klaus is big time Leo energy in my book - their ruling planet is the sun, and let's face it... Klaus believes the world revolves around him. So in my story, he was born July 31st, 980 A.D. (Happy 1,045th birthday today, Klaus!) Tonight was also the first NFL game of the 25-26 season (well, HOF game.) That's something else that fictional Vandalia and I share... our love of football.

Anyway, thank you all for reading! I'll try and get Chapter 21 up on here by the end of next week or the weekend (8th, 9th, or 10th of Aug).

Enjoy!