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peopleandrhythm · 7 years ago

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Episode Thirteen, Part One: Hope for a Life That is Calm

Nota bene: I realized far too late into writing this that Hope’s birthday is canonically May 2. As both she and River were supposed to have already graduated high school at this point, clearly her birthday being so early makes little sense. Therefore, for this story, please note that Hope’s birthday is somewhere toward the end of May, not toward its beginning. I apologize for the inconsistency.

Don’t forget to read part two of this episode, which is already available at this time.

River’s perched on the marble-topped island in the kitchen, a bowl of Froot Loops in her hands. Her legs kick back and forth as Hope moves around her, assembling her own bowl of Cheerios. Crunching on the cereal, River says, “Ah dunno. Ah still fink tha ‘riginal Buffy movie’s betta than tha remake.”

Hope glares at her over her shoulder. “You’re crazy.”

River jabs her spoon toward her girlfriend, ready to argue her case, when a voice calls out from the courtyard, “Guess who’s here!”

The girls shoot each other confused looks, and then abandon their breakfasts, entering the courtyard to see what’s going on. They look to the entrance, where Hayley stands, a grin on her face, and right beside her—

“Mom!” River tears off, throwing herself onto her mother, who squeezes back.

“Hey, baby!” Rachel says. “I missed you!”

“I missed you, too.”

“Hi, Mrs. Monroe,” Hope says, now standing beside her own mother.

“Hiya, Hope.” Rachel holds her daughter at arm’s length and looks her up and down. “Look at you. Turned yourself into a wolf but you’re still in one piece.”

“More or less,” River agrees. “But what are you doing here? Where’s Dad?”

Hayley slides an arm around her daughter’s shoulders. “I invited her. For Hope’s party tonight.”

Both girls’ faces light up. “Really?”

Rachel nods. “Your daddy couldn’t make it. Something with work. But he sends his birthday wishes, Hope.”

“Thanks.”

Rachel’s eyes settle on River again, and this time, there’s a lot less joy there. “You know, you and I’re gonna have a talk about runnin’ away to chase girls across state lines.”

River stiffens; she’s in trouble. “About that—”

“How ‘bout we talk about it after you get home?”

Home. River swallows thickly, avoiding Hope’s stare. “Actually, Mom…I don’t think I’m gonna be going home.” She can hear the breath leave Hope’s body, but cannot bring herself to look at her.

“And why the hell not?”

River slowly pulls her phone out of her pocket and gives it a jiggle. “I got the email last night. I’ve been accepted off the Tulane waitlist.”

“What?” Hope throws her arms around River’s neck. “Congratulations! I’m so proud of you!”

River hugs her girlfriend back, but her eyes are locked on her mother’s face. There’s shock there, and pride, and something else she can’t quite identify.

But then her mother smiles, and kisses her forehead. “Congratulations, baby. I’m not surprised at all.” It’s a lie, but it feels nice.

Hayley, eager to diffuse the tension, suggests, “Why don’t you girls show River’s mom to her room? I think the one a few doors down from you should be finished.”

“Okay!” They lead the way up the stairs, Hope chattering a mile a minute about how close Tulane is to the compound as Rachel trails behind silently. Hayley leans back against a pillar and sighs. “This is gonna be a long day.”

The sounds of instruments warming up echoes through the still-empty halls of the compound, the party—the ball, really, with its fancy hors d’oeuvres and string quartet and tuxedo-clad waitstaff—still roughly an hour away from its start. Hayley stands in her new bedroom—our bedroom, she continually reminds herself, now that she and Elijah are finally able to share their lives together—and examines herself in the mirror. She looks exactly the same as she did eighteen years ago, when on a church altar she brought into this world the most important person she’ll ever meet. Her dress is tightly fitted to her body, black with intricate cream lace detailing about the bodice and hem. She smooths the fabric and reaches back to pull the zipper up, but she can’t reach. She contorts her arm at awkward angles, but nothing works.

“Would you like some help?”

She looks into the mirror to see Elijah behind her, already buttoned up in his tuxedo, classically black and elegant. He’s leaning against the doorframe, head angled as his eyes roam up and down.

She smiles wryly at him through the mirror. “If you don’t mind.”

Slowly he approaches, his fingers catching the zipper at the small of her back and inching it upward. His knuckle grazes the curve of her spine as it moves up, and she rolls her eyes. “I’m starting to think this is a thing for you.”

“Whatever could you possibly be referring to?” he replies with a playful lilt to his tone. Once the dress is zipped, his arms slide comfortably around her waist, and he presses his face alongside hers. “I do recall another dress. White, lots of buttons. Plenty of room for a bump.”

Hayley hums a laugh. “Can’t believe that bump is now an eighteen-year-old.”

“And yet her mother is just as radiant as the day she gave birth to her.”

“And her uncle’s just as big a flatterer.” That earns a laugh from Elijah. “I’m still not sure about tonight. Should we even be here? I don’t see this city getting any safer for us.”

Elijah takes her hand in his and spins her around so they’re no longer looking at each other through the mirror. “I…agree that it is odd that Marcel Gerard has yet to…force us out of New Orleans. And yet…” He gives a hopeful smile. “Perhaps your daughter has sweetened his somewhat sour opinion of our family.”

Hayley doesn’t look convinced. “The last time we were here, he tried to kill you and Kol, and he kept Klaus bricked in a wall for fifteen years.”

“Fair point.” He gently kisses her forehead. “Call me an idealist, but I truly believe that we can finally make this city the home for your daughter that you always hoped for.”

“Well, we’ve been here a matter of days and already her girlfriend’s been kidnapped and she’s been held prisoner by her father to keep her away from covens of angry witches, so, yeah…that sounds like the New Orleans I remember.” She sighs. “Still…when we first got here, Hope was determined to stay and fight for a city that she didn’t even know. That is the girl I raised. But me…I just wanted to run. To get her as far away from here as possible.” She looks up at Elijah. “How did I become this? I swore I would never teach my daughter to run away from a fight, and yet as soon as we got here I wanted to leave.”

“You have spent the past fifteen years raising your daughter alone, protecting her from the things in this world that would cause her harm. I hardly think you could be blamed for trying to do your job.”

Hayley gives half a shrug. “Yeah, well…maybe it’s time I learned from her. If she wants to stay, to be a part of this community…I guess I’m willing to give it a shot. Again.”

Elijah trails the backs of his fingers up her arm, across her shoulder, and up her neck, where he rests his hand to pull her into a kiss. Then he steps back and offers her his arm. “Shall we?”

She loops her arm through his and gestures vaguely to the door. “Well, there’s no way this can go wrong.”

Hope stares wide-eyed at herself in a full-length mirror, twisting her body this way and that to take it all in. Her dress, emerald green with a halter bodice and a long satin skirt, is the single most beautiful thing she’s ever put on her body, and it feels simultaneously perfect and foreign. Her hair is curled into an elaborate updo, courtesy of Rebekah. The skirt swishes as she moves, and suddenly she feel very, very adult.

Her eyes are still glued to her reflection when the door opens. They flick up to see River entering the bedroom, and both of them freeze as they take each other in. River’s wearing a one-shoulder drop waist gown in a magnificent deep purple, her train trailing out behind her. Her hair is twisted into a beautiful pouf on one side of her head. The girls stare at each other through the mirror, each captivated by the other.

“Wow,” Hope breathes after a long while.

“Wow,” River agrees. “You look—”

“You look—” They both laugh at their awkwardness. Hope turns to face River properly. “Bet this isn’t what you expected for an eighteenth birthday party.”

“Well what about you?” River picks up the front of her dress and walks over to Hope so they can both look into the mirror. “Like, a week ago you and your mom were living in a rental house smaller than some of the apartments near campus. And now…look at you. I’m pretty sure that dress costs more than that house.”

“I’m pretty sure you’re right.” She tips her head onto River’s shoulder. “I don’t know if I know how to be a Mikaelson. It’s a name I’ve…clung to my entire life, but…now that I’m faced with the reality of it…”

“Hey, at least you’ve always known who the Mikaelsons were. I’m just now finding out that my family is a werewolf line, and that I’m the end of that line.”

“Mm, true.”

River laces her fingers with Hope’s and squeezes. “I think you’re going to be great. Don’t forget, your family already loves you. It’s not like you have to prove anything to them. If anything, I bet your dad would find it hilarious if you found a way to screw up Elijah’s party.” She looks down at her girlfriend. “You know what you have to do?”

“Channel my inner Blue Ivy?”

“Channel the hell out of your inner Blue Ivy.”

“I think I can do that.” Hope lifts her head to give River a quick kiss. Then she says, “Thanks for being here.”

“Hey, as long as you keep paying me in dope-ass dresses, I’ll be here. Now, I have to go to Rebekah’s room, something about ‘the sharpest cat-eye you’ll ever see in your entire life.’” She starts to head for the door, but something catches her eye. “Hey, your birthmark.”

Hope looks over her shoulder in the mirror. Her sleeveless dress puts her crescent moon birthmark prominently on display. “Oh yeah. I didn’t think about that.”

“You usually keep it covered up, that’s all. I forget you have it.” She smiles. “I love it.”

“My mom always told me I needed to keep it hidden, that if someone recognized us we could be in danger. But here…” She shrugs. “Everyone knows I’m a Crescent. And a Mikaelson. And a witch. There’s not much left to hide.”

“Plus it’s cute.”

Hope laughs. “Plus it’s cute.”

Dressed in a crisp, deep maroon suit, Marcel strolls through the Mikaelson courtyard, glancing about at the elegant décor. He stops to swipe a canapé off of the food table, and is just popping it into his mouth when a voice behind him says, “I didn’t think kings normally stooped to stealing food before a party.”

Marcel turns lazily to see Klaus, in a gray three-piece suit with a purple tie, judging him with an eyebrow raised. Marcel lifts his own hands in innocence, swallowing the canapé. “Hey, I just came to make a peace offering.”

“A peace offering?” Klaus gasps in mock astonishment. “Am I to believe that the great Marcel Gerard has deemed the lowly Mikaelsons fit to remain in his most glorious city?”

Resisting an eye roll, Marcel says, “If things were different, I’d’ve had your asses out of city limits days ago. If things were different, you’d still be locked up in your own basement.” Klaus’s eyes narrow dangerously. “But things are what they are, and I’m not here to start a fight. In fact, I’m here to prevent one.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“My nightwalkers. There’s a small army of them outside.” Outrage colors Klaus’s face, but Marcel quickly elaborates. “They’re here for protection. Man, it’s Hope’s birthday. I don’t wanna see anything go down tonight. They’re just gonna be standing guard. I swear it on my life.”

Klaus seems mollified, but he warns, “It will be on your life, because if those nightwalkers so much as look at my daughter or her girlfriend the wrong way, I will come for you.”

A calm smile spreads across Marcel’s face. “Don’t forget, you can’t kill me. But your concern is noted.”

He starts to walk away toward the bar, but stops when he hears, “Marcellus.” He turns back to see Klaus, eyes downcast. “Thank you.”

Marcel nods, and then goes to order himself a drink.

River finds her mom in her guest bedroom, perched on the bed in a long, yellow gown. She’s looking down at her cell phone. “Hey.”

Rachel looks up at her daughter, standing nervously in the doorway. “Hey, baby. C’mon in.” River enters, closing the door behind her, and sits on the bed next to her mom. “You look so beautiful, baby girl. When did you grown up? Wasn’t it yesterday your daddy and I were droppin’ you off at preschool, with your lil’ Rapunzel backpack? Thing was bigger than you were.”

River laughs. “Mom…” She looks down at the floor. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Tulane.”

“River…”

“No. I know you guys expected me to go to a state school. They’re cheaper, obviously. And more convenient. If I went to Florida State, I could still live at home, keep my job at the restaurant. I know it’s the smart thing to do.”

“…But you wanna go to Tulane.”

River’s still avoiding her mother’s searching eyes. “They’ve got an amazing medicine program, and…you know I’ve always wanted to be a vet. And…well, Hope’s going to be here. Probably. Definitely.” River lets out a dry laugh. “It’s not like she can leave now.”

“Huh?”

She shakes her head. “Never mind. I should have talked to you and Dad about this, but…I like New Orleans.” Except for the kidnappers, she doesn’t say. “It’s a lot bigger than Tallahassee, and I think…I think I could use something bigger in my life right now.” She pauses. “Plus…there’s a pack here. I mean, you and Dad will always be my pack, but…this wolf thing is hard, and I could use all the help I can get.”

They’re silent for a few moments, the clock on the wall ticking down the seconds until Rachel finally says, “Okay.”

River turns to look at her mother, eyes wide. “Okay?”

“I ain’t sayin’ it’s gonna be easy. But if this is what you wanna do…”

“It is!” River throws her arms around her mother. “Thank you! I promise, I’ll do whatever it takes to make this work.”

“Careful, don’t wrinkle your dress!” They both laugh. “Alright, baby. We’ll figure out the messy bits later. We’ve got a party to get to.”

He finds her on her balcony, her face tipped up toward the barely-waning moon. She is bathed in its soft blue light, and it hits him suddenly, painfully: his daughter is a woman. He clears his throat, and she looks down, but not back at him. “Hi.” It’s cool, to say the least.

Klaus drops a thin square box wrapped in shiny gold paper onto her bed and then walks up to the balcony doors. “A princess surveying her kingdom.”

Hope stiffens at that. She looses a breath. “Right. I’m a princess, which makes you…a king?” She’s still not looking at him.

“Hope, I would like…to apologize for insinuating that my political machinations are taking precedence over you.” He steps forward and places a hand on her elbow, gently turning her to look at him. “You will always be the most important thing in my life.”

“Am I?” Hope’s face blooms into something melancholic. “I can’t be a tool for you to grab power, Dad. I can’t be…I need to know that you actually give a shit about me, and not what I can give you.”

Heart breaking, Klaus pulls his daughter into a hug, her face pressed against his chest. “My littlest wolf…” He rests his chin atop her head. “I have not been the father you deserve. I don’t know if know how to be that father. I never had one, a good father who loved his children above all else. I had a tyrant, and I swore to myself, to your mother, and to you that I would not become him.” He grasps Hope’s shoulders and pushes her away so he can look her directly in the eyes. “I have broken that oath. I may very well break it again. I have a thousand years of living to unlearn. All I can ask for is your patience, and your forgiveness as I try to figure out how to be the father you deserve.”

Hope sniffs, and reaches a finger up to wipe under her eyes. “As far as apologies go, that didn’t suck.” She laughs, and her father smiles warmly. “Maybe I shouldn’t expect perfection from someone who never got the chance to actually be a dad.” She slowly sticks her hand into the pocket of her dress and pulls out a faded, wrinkled envelope. The breath leaves Klaus’s body. “I’ve been trying to work up the courage to read this all day.” She turns it over in her hands, staring at the word Hope written in small script across the front. “Mom gave this to me on my tenth birthday, told me to read it whenever I was ready.” She hands it to him. “I think I’m ready now.”

Hands slightly shaking, Klaus carefully opens the envelope and removes the folded piece of paper from inside. The smell of the paper reminds him of that day in Lucien Castle’s penthouse, of the sacrifices that his entire family made to keep each other safe. He unfolds the letter, and in the barest whisper, reads, “My dearest Hope, I do not know how this will find you: as a child full of wonder, a teenager full of opinions, or a woman…” He takes a deep breath. “…a woman with the world at her feet. I write to tell you that I love you, and to explain that in our family’s darkest hour, I was called upon to save my siblings, and I did so. Please, do not mourn me. Whatever pain I endure, I do in service of those I love. My sole regret is that I will be away from you.

“Be good to your mother. I draw comfort knowing that she will protect you. And I know she will not rest until our family is united. Until then, my sacrifice will allow you to grow, to become the beautiful daughter…the beautiful daughter I can now only imagine. Please remember that you are the legacy this family has always desired, the promise we fought to protect. You will always be…our hope.”

Hope’s eyes are closed, a tear sliding down one cheek. Klaus wipes it away with the pad of his thumb, and then bends down to kiss her forehead. “You are my hope,” he murmurs. “Never, ever forget that.”

Hope nods. She wants to tell him, can feel the words burning in her chest: I’m the Advocate. But they get stuck in her throat, so instead she chuckles through her tears and, wiping at her eyes, says, “And my makeup looked so good.”

“You look beautiful.”

“You have to say that, you’re my dad.”

“True, but flattery isn’t my only gift.” He gestures toward the bed, and Hope turns to look.

Seeing the present, Hope gives her father an intrigued glance and heads inside. She sits down and carefully peels away the gift wrap. She reveals a thin box of red oak with brass hinges. Curious, she opens the box, and her jaw drops. “Dad…” She lifts one of the paintbrushes up to examine it. “They’re beautiful.” She spies a small inscription toward the top of the handle, and looks closer. It reads hope in beautiful calligraphy. “Dad, did you carve these?”

Klaus nods proudly. “Same oak as the box they come in. I know we still have a lot to learn about each other, but art is a passion we share, and I wanted to honor that.”

Hope gently replaces the paintbrush into the set and then wraps her arms around her father once more. “Thank you.”

Klaus holds his daughter, heart full to bursting, before stepping back and holding out his arm. “I think it’s time we introduce the city of New Orleans to its most spectacular child.”

Hope takes a deep breath, and then lets it out. She stands and weaves her arm through her father’s. “Let’s go.”

Theo’s dressed all in black, a woman on a mission as she takes long-legged strides through Lafayette Cemetery, her heeled boots clacking menacingly on the stone. Leanne can barely keep up as they march toward the LeRoy crypt. “It could be anybody,” she argues, trying not to fall behind. “If it were me, I’d be lying low. It could be weeks before we figure it out.”

“I don’t have weeks,” Theo snaps, rounding a corner. Leanne scrambles behind her. “The longer that…usurper has the sole ear of the ancestors, the harder it’s going to be to rip that power away from them.”

There’s thunderous footsteps behind them, soon joined by the sound of labored breathing. Suddenly, Dominic is running up, cutting in front of the women to make them stop. “Theo!”

Theo moves to push past him. “Not now, Dom—”

Dom steps in front of her again. “I have news from one of our scouts.”

That gives Theo pause. “Which one?”

“Michael.”

Impatiently, Theo asks, “Michael from the Quarter or Michael from the Tremé?”

“Michael, the one tailing Vincent.”

Now she’s definitely interested. “And what does he have to tell us about our dear regent?”

“Big news: he knows who the Advocate is.”

And with that, a slow, wicked grin lights up Theo’s face.

The string quartet is playing an up-tempo number, an instrumental cover of a song from Lady Gaga’s 2021 album. Most of the guests, all bedecked in finery typical of a Mikaelson affair, are either dancing or milling about, the light hum of conversation the constant harmony to the music. Hope’s hiding by the food table, keeping her hands and mouth full of circles of bruschetta, a convenient excuse to avoid socializing. River’s off dancing with her mother, and Hope can see her father schmoozing with some people who look important. She’s not sure where the rest of her family is, but as it stands, when she looks out at the crowd, she hardly sees anyone she recognizes.

“You don’t look like you’re having much fun.” Hope turns to see Rebekah, stunning in a red dress with a nearly completely see-through bodice, smiling at her sympathetically. Behind her stands Freya, in a sleeveless white dress of her own.

She smiles wryly at her aunts. “Yeah, I’m starting to think that this maybe isn’t my speed.”

“Nonsense,” Freya says. She gently removes the tray of bruschetta from Hope’s hands, ignoring the birthday girl’s noise of protest, and sets it back on the long food table. “You may have been raised by Hayley Marshall, but you’re a Mikaelson, and Mikaelsons love a good soirée.”

“This is Elijah’s fault,” Rebekah insists. “He’s so boring.”

“Come.” Freya hooks her arm through Hope’s, and then Rebekah’s doing the same on the other side. “Dance with your aunts.”

Hope allows herself to be dragged into the middle of the courtyard, where’s she’s spun in a circle by Rebekah. A laugh bubbles out of her, and soon she’s fallen prey to the music, swaying and twirling and stepping in time. Before long, River and her mother have joined their small dance circle, and the five of them are full to bursting with laughter. The song ends, and a light applause scatters among the partygoers. A bright smile still on her face, Hope stumbles away to swipe a glass of water off of a server’s tray. As she sips, she feels something press into her hand.

Surprised, she looks about; there’s no one around her. She opens her hand, and there’s a crumpled piece of paper there. Hope steps into a corner, glass abandoned on a different server’s tray, and flattens the note. Come into the tunnels, she reads. Nothing else, just one sentence penned in an untidy scrawl. Her eyes scan the crowd again; no one’s looking at her, no one’s acting suspiciously.

She briefly considers going to one of her parents, but it would take her ages to find them in the throng, and besides, she’s far stronger now than she was when Theo lured her to the City of the Dead. Just like that, her mind is made up, and she’s once more crumpling the note into her fist.

The music is faint behind her as Hope descends the final steps into the tunnels below the Mikaelson compound. There’s a short hallway that curves, dumping her into a large cavern, the very same one in which her father had been kept prisoner for fifteen years. Waiting for her in its center are the last three people she expected to see: Marcel, Vincent, and Rose.

Face colored with confusion, Hope enters the cavern tentatively. “What is this?” She lifts the balled-up note in her hand. “I got your message.”

Marcel rubs his hands together. “We need to talk.”

“Yeah, I got that much.”

Vincent steps forward. “Look Hope, when you told me that you had been granted access to the ancestors—”

Eyes wide, Hope cuts him off. “You told them? After telling me to keep my mouth shut?”

“They needed to know, Hope, because like me, they’ve come to realize something pretty important about you.”

“And what’s that?” Hope’s tone is edging on defensive.

He shrugs, a soft smile on his face. “That you are the key to bringing peace to New Orleans.”

Hope stares. “Okay, look, I’ve got a party to get back to—”

“Listen to him, Hope.” It’s the first time Rose has spoken. She looks so much different than she had out in the bayou, now dressed in a bohemian-style dress with a long blue skirt. “What he’s saying makes sense.”

Hope’s eyes flick back to Vincent, and he takes that as his cue to continue. “For over a century, this city has known war. We have had kings and tyrants and everything in between and none of ‘em have been able to establish a lasting peace.

“But you…you are different, Hope Mikaelson. You don’t represent one of us. No, you represent all of us. A New Orleans witch, born of a New Orleans wolf and one of the vampires who built New Orleans from its very bricks. This city lives in in you. It is the blood in your veins, the breath in your lungs. There is no one we can trust more to lead us—lead us to peace, to community…to the New Orleans we have always dreamed of.”

Hope’s slack-jawed, shaking her head just perceptibly. “You’re crazy,” she breathes. “You’re all crazy.”

“You feel it, don’t you?” Marcel steps forward, and Hope watches him cautiously. “Vincent told me ‘bout how you described being in this city when you first came back. You felt it in you, felt it calling to you.”

“I don’t see how—”

“This is your legacy, Hope,” Vincent says. “Your daddy thought himself a king, and your momma was queen to them wolves out in the bayou.” Rose’s jaw clenches but she doesn’t interrupt. “We believe that you are the one who can bring these communities together in the name of a peace we ain’t had in generations.”

“So will you do it?” Hope’s eyes snap back to Marcel. “Will you step up to lead this city, the city that gave you life, the city that went to war for you? Will you be the queen we’ve been waiting a long time to follow?”

Stunned into silence, Hope can’t do anything but gape, wide-eyed and breathless, between the three most powerful people in New Orleans.

Despite the covert elbow-rubbing and the low murmur of gossip that ripples through the crowd, the party isn’t actually terrible. Hayley stands on the first floor balcony, leaning out over the courtyard below with a glass of whiskey in her hand. She takes a sip, watching Rebekah pull a resigned Elijah into a dance. She smiles, thinking of the dance she shared with him earlier in the night.

There’s a sudden presence beside her. Not even bothering to look, she says, “If you want some of the good stuff, you’re going to have to raid your own liquor cabinet.”

“I think I’m fairly well-educated as to the location of the best alcohol in this house,” Klaus says dryly. “Rebekah is not as sneaky as she likes to imagine.”

The parents stand beside each other, passively observing the party below. Hayley spies River talking with Freya near the makeshift stage. She assumes that Hope is lost in the mass of dancers, given that the quartet is currently delivering an expert rendition of a Beyoncé hit. Quietly she says, “For what it’s worth, I did my best to make sure that the idea she had of her father was something…hopeful. I tried to keep all of the bad things away—not just about you, but about…all of it. This life. I wasn’t always successful, but…”

“Of course you were successful.” Hayley’s surprised by the conviction in Klaus’s voice. “No one could look at this child, our child, and say that she is anything less than perfection.” Hayley smiles softly. “Obviously I would have given anything to be able to spend these most important years with our daughter, but if she had to be raised by one person…there is no one better I could have chosen for the task.”

“She really is something, isn’t she?” Hayley sighs.

“She’s tenacious, and stubborn, and powerful…rather mouthy, too. All traits I’m sure she’s learned from her mother.”

Hayley rolls her eyes. “Right, because her stubbornness couldn’t possibly have come from the parent who has spent a millennium sticking his siblings with daggers because they annoy him.”

Klaus’s smile is half-abashed, half-pleased. “Well…”

Before Klaus can finish his thought, every light in the compound goes out, plunging the partygoers into inky black darkness.

#tvd #the originals #originals #originals fic #tvd fic #people and rhythm #pr 1x13

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