Chapter Text
ܐܘܢܬܐ ܪܒܩܐ,
I don’t really know why I’m writing this, there’s no way a transportation spell would work. From what I can tell, I’m in a completely different Universe. Which, I guess that means Uncle will be happy that his theory was correct. But, I’m getting ahead of myself I killed Malivore. I killed Landon. Then, I blacked out and the next thing I know? I’m a baby on the doorstep of a Church in New York City. I can’t describe how it feels to be so alone. How it feels to suffer what you've done, while in the body of a baby - I just wish I could shut it all off. I’m the most powerful being in the world. Yet, with all that power, I can’t talk to my family. Even, and it’s taken me these five years to admit this, my friends. What's the point of having all this power, what's the point of my (re)-immortality, if everyone I care about just gets taken away?
Instead, I’m stuck in some hyper-religious orphanage. In five years, they’ve managed to try to change my name four times, loan me out to six separate foster homes, and call me the Devil Child eight. Although I must admit, I have been a proper terror. Untriggered Werewolf anger, being even more powerful then I was originally as a kid (Thanks nearly two decades of experience!), on top of barely stopping myself from snapping at everything around me, or just curdling up in bed for a few years… well, I have to admit I feel bad about what I put them through, they certainly weren’t expecting me.
Onto other news, I suppose. I finally managed to learn the sunlight spell, and Aunt ᚠᚱᛖᛁᛃᚨ was correct (like always), all it would take was a moment of true unfiltered emotion. There’s this kid at the Orphanage who just came a few months back, well he’s blind - recently at that, and sometimes people forget that. Seeing him panic at the rain, and being so worried about tripping… Well, it just came to me. He’s a good kid. One moment it was pouring, and the next New York was clear skies for two straight weeks. Which shouldn't have happened, so that's one thing to work on.
Outside of that, I can see the beginnings of what would become my time, even here in the beginning of the ‘90s. It’s strange, though. Vibrant hair dyes are nowhere near as popular, cars are so slow. Let’s not even touch on how different people's thoughts are on relationships, or just general conversation… also I miss so many shows and movies, and there's a huge difference in looks between now and 2030.
Anyways, I’m rambling. Can you even ramble in a letter? I definitely can. I just miss you all so much, and I feel like if I end this… (A mess of scribbles and tears) Well, enough of that. I’m Hope Mikaelson, what am I fearing? If, somehow-someway I managed to break the boundaries of Universes and transport this letter to you, don’t worry about anyone seeing it. I’ve tied the letters to our bloodline, enchanted the letter itself to only open for an Original Vampire, and left a nasty curse as well. In the worst-case scenario, the letter also translates my writing into the language I started this letter with. Honestly, I’d be beaming with pride in how complicated the security for this was, in any other circumstance.
I don’t know what our families enemies would do if they knew that the Tribrid wasn’t merely dead - and as such not revivable, but was in fact in a separate Universe entirely. Would they try the same with you all? Be safe please, and if you do somehow get this, don’t worry about writing back. I don’t want Auntie D or Aunt Freya to end up dying trying to do the same thing.
Unless Uncle has some hairbrained idea, do you think you could keep this from my friends? I don’t want them to get their hopes up. One day I’ll be strong enough to come back, but I don’t want them waiting for me. Whether it’s a decade, or a century - they aren’t immortal like we are.
I wish you were here,
Hope Andrea Mikaelson
May 30, 1991
It worked. I don’t know how to describe how I felt seeing my letter burst into flames before disappearing, and the actual act of doing it felt like I was piercing through hundreds of different barriers, but? It worked. It took a lot of me though, my body is still too young. But it worked. This will probably knock me out completely, but I had to send another one, because it WORKED!
I’ll write to you again in a few months.
Love,
Hope Andrea Mikaelson
June 15, 1991
ܐܘܢܬܐ ܪܒܩܐ,
Not much has happened. Surprisingly, childhood is very boring. Is this what regular people experience growing up? I thought I’d have a hundred new things to write to you about these past few months, but I suppose I’m so used to always being under constant attack that I never realized how boring regular life is. Is this why humans can be so boring? Logically, I know I shouldn’t, but is it bad that I hope something interesting happens? I know there’s magic in this world, I feel it in the air, I feel the pulse of the earth. It’s powerful in a way our world isn’t. Our world was like the last embers of a bonfire, hoping someone would throw more logs in, here it's like a roaring inferno. Yet, I feel as if it’s so much less restricted, almost… Uncaring?
Mother Nature felt like an ever-watchful parent, swatting me gently on the back of the head when I went too far. Albeit, I know she did that so much more lightly for me than other Witches. Here? I feel like I could do anything, and she just… wouldn’t care, and she is here. I can feel it sometimes, her gaze. Even if I'm currently just a Witch, I was once the full Tribrid, I wonder - what does she see? What does she think?
I’m not sure she even realizes that in a different Universe I was her most powerful loophole, the one she entrusted to fix the wrongs made so many years ago…
Sometimes, it makes me feel even more lonely, now that I don’t even have Mother Nature. But other times, my hands start itching. I know Uncle ᚲᛟᛚ would nudge me towards testing everything out. Same with Auntie D. But… I feel like if I do, I’ll never stop. Perhaps after (18?23?5?) Years, I’m finally growing up a little. There’s no one here to pull me back, and I have so much power inside of me. What spells could I create? What rituals? What could I rediscover that has long since been forbidden?
I’ve never really been afraid of myself. I’ve always had other people, even when I thought I didn’t. What would happen if I gave in, just this once? Even though I'm the most powerful Witch, I'm not a Battle Witch, I never have been, always too strong to gain that needed instinct, and twist too my magic. But here? I feel like I just have to think and any of Aunt Freya's battle magic could be used, no incantations, no effort. It feels like the Earth itself is constantly at a precipice, as if it's holding a breath waiting for blood to spill.
Maybe I’ll get desperate in a few years, but for now… I won’t. I’m still sane enough to recognize this is just the loneliness speaking. For now, I can amuse myself with being taught my ABCs, and a tad bit of mischief.
I miss you all so much.
Hope Andrea Mikaelson
September 15th, 1991.
ܐܘܢܬܐ ܪܒܩܐ,
I believe at this point they’ve given up on me ever finding a proper foster home, and are now just hoping someone will be insane enough to adopt me. Amusingly enough, there’s another little terror who churns in and out of Foster Homes. Poor girl though, she’s actually a child, and even worse - she has a truly horrendous name. Who decides to name a baby Mary Sue Poots?
I have to admit, the longer I stay in this Orphanage, the more my rage grows, the more my dormant wolf howls for freedom, rattling against its chains. Even while dormant, the part of me that is pure wolf feels, well, more. But anyway, at least I had a family, no matter how dysfunctional we are. No matter how I couldn't see Dad often because of the Hollow. No matter what, I had something. These kids? Nothing.
I don’t know what to do, I don’t know what I can do. But… I can’t believe I’m admitting this, but it hurts to see. Laugh it up Auntie. The big bad Tribrid is at a loss about what to do about kids.
Onto things you won’t one day embarrass me about, that kid, Matthew that I spoke to you about a few letters ago, the blind one? I’m pretty sure he’s somehow managing to gain super senses. It’s growing slowly, sure. He’s surprisingly good at hiding it, too, but I can feel some kind of change. An energy - a type of magic I’m not familiar with slowly changing him. If I hadn’t studied that bitch Ester’s grimoire, I wouldn’t have recognized what I was feeling. It’s not like the spell that created Vampires. It’s different, smoother, almost more… natural? I don’t know how to describe it.
Either way, that’s just about the only interesting thing happening. School is boring, being six is boring. It finally hit me how separated I am when I reached up for my necklaces and found nothing. It’s like a void is inside of me. But I’ll live. Maybe I can make new ones? Even if it wouldn’t be yours, moms, or uncles.
With eternal longing,
Hope Andrea Mikaelson
September 15th, 1992.
ܐܘܢܬܐ ܪܒܩܐ,
I believe I am having what Auntie D would call a ‘reasonable crashout’. You’d think there would be a lot of witches in a city as big as New York, right? Well, I found one today. They saw me, and promptly ran in terror. Now, don’t get me wrong. In any other circumstance, I would be mildly amused at a random witch fleeing from me. Our family is notorious after all, and no matter how much I know I should be better, there is a part of me that is…
Anyways, that’s the thing though. No one should know me here, and I have pretty good control of my magic all things considered. A few storms, some broken windows, nothing compared to what I could have done with all this power. My Werewolf side isn’t triggered. Nor is my Vampire. There should be no reason this 80-some-odd-year-old lady hobbled away with remarkable speed in sheer terror. I’m seven. So clearly, there’s something more going on here. Whether she’s a prophet, and I did something truly dastardly in the future, or somehow, someway, I’m emitting a ‘fear me mortal’ aura.
So yes, I think this counts as a ‘reasonable crashout’, when the first Supernatural creature I meet looks like I’m well, Dad. To top it off? The Mets somehow got 103 losses. I didn’t even like baseball before, and I can manage to be utterly disappointed, and my day ruined.
Let’s hope the rest of the year is better! I don’t know how many more times I can subtly fix broken windows, shred curtains, or wave away suspicious clouds directly above myself. How are you? These letters are getting easier to send, so I hope you don’t mind terribly if I write more. If you do, Auntie? Well, I suppose, considering you’ve not sent a single letter back (even though I told you not to, I know you all), it’s impossible, so too bad!
I’ve been tempted to do a scrying spell to check on you all, but… I have to be honest, I’m worried about what will happen. Transporting a letter is completely different then shunting my spirit across the Universe. On top of the fact that… (A mess of scribbles)
I hope you’re all doing well.
Hope Andrea Mikaelson
October 5th, 1993
ܐܘܢܬܐ ܪܒܩܐ,
I think I’ll miss the blonde streaks that still barely flake through my hair. It’s been interesting to see it change, something I hadn’t noticed the first go around. I wonder how you felt with your vision, as every day my hair would grow a bit more red at the roots? How did Freya? I see my face shifting what feels like every day, a different color in my eyes, or a new shade in one strand of hair. The way baby fat shifts, ears change in proportion, or my nose rests on my face.
I’m sure Mom was certainly happy I was taking less and less after Dad every day, but I can’t help but feel sad. I’d hoped I’d have something of Dad - something of you. But it looks like this life I am to have my vibrant red hair once more.
I’m thinking of sometime soon beginning to write to the others - of course, I won’t drop the protections, so Marcel will still have to continue to read through you, and Aunty D the same. In hindsight, I should have done so already, but I was admittedly worried; you and I are connected in a way that I just… knew if a letter would work, it would be with you. Not to mention Aunt Freya is a witch, so she would have her own protections, and well - I suppose at this point my worries are pointless. I’m stronger than I was when I started, and I’ve adapted.
I’m unsure what language to write to Aunt Freya in, as she doesn’t know Aramaic, and I’m sad to admit I don’t know what other languages she speaks, it was never a topic we broached besides for the sake of learning spells. Maybe I’ll just stick to Elder Futhark? Although it has been 8 years, perhaps the security measures aren’t as important…
How is Marcel? Has he finally adapted to being the strongest Vampire around? Has he figured out what abilities lurk inside his new nature? I personally suspected that with that much magic pumped inside of him, he’d be able to access some more raw-primal magic, even with how much Mother Nature keeps the reins around Vampires. (Logically, you all should be able to do so many more things, but I suppose it would throw off the balance.) How is New Orleans? It’s been far too long since I’ve had a proper beignet, and I’ve been horribly tempted to say screw it to everything and just march on down there. I don’t think I’m truly ready to see home again. To see what became of our compound, to see our touch missing on everything.
Maybe when I’m older, maybe when the loss isn’t still so fresh.
Anyways, with all my love.
Hope Andrea Mikaelson
May 6th, 1994