Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Darkness. 

All encompassing. 

Pitch black surrounded Hope with no end in sight. 

Memories and voices repeatedly flashed through her mind. 

Time was unmoving. 

It could’ve been seconds, minutes, days, years. 

This was all she knew. Death. They’re dead. All dead. 

Her mom on fire. Uncle Elijah and her father staking each other and turning to dust. 

The Great Evil. Your father’s daughter. The silence echoed with her past in her ears. Your fault. It’s your fault. 

Flashes of her life flew by behind her eyelids, or was she just beginning to see things? Are her eyes closed? It wasn’t like the view was any different either way.

Hope stumbled along further into the darkness, muttering to herself, “No, no, no…not real. Not real, not here.”

She shook her head as she watched Josie clawing her way out of a grave, covered in dirt and struggling for breath.

Josie was alive right? Hope couldn’t remember. Was Josie shot before or after that? Which time did she die? Was Lizzie shot too? 

Hope tugged on her hair in distress as the vision of her friends dying stopped. 

A sigh reverberated before being swallowed by the pit. They’ll come back, they always come back.

“Couldn’t save them…they’re dead, aren’t they? Or am I dead?” her fist punched against her temple with each sentence. “I’m dead…but I’m breathing. Talking means being alive, doesn’t it? Am I alive if no one remembers? Keep going, keep going. Stopping is death.”

Every so often, she would hear growls and grunts in the distance. Nothing was ever there though, just a reminder that her existence in this pit was filled with company that she could not see. 

Sound disappeared the closer the noise reached her. Hope couldn’t tell if any living thing was stalking her, only when she felt the claws and weapons of the monsters graze her body. 

Constantly bleeding and healing, yet not having actual contact with anybody. Pain meant she was alive. Or was it her punishment for when she was alive? Hope didn’t know anymore, she thought that Malivore would die once she fell into the pit. 

Her eyes flicked back and forth rapidly, taking in nothing as once again she felt a blade slice through her side without warning. The weapon immediately vanished as she clasped a hand to her abdomen. 

No one was there. 

Just her, just her, just her. 

Was she even attacked? Is this another hallucination?

The shroud of darkness was familiar but not a comfort. Voices that she could hear but not see ran through her mind constantly. 

Dr. Saltzman asking her why she couldn’t save his daughters. That’s why he trained with her. Stop the second coming of the Great Evil and get a bodyguard for his daughters. This is your father, it can’t be you. I won’t allow it.  

Hope whipped around, trying to see if he was there with her. For the habitual look of disappointment and expectation. A bottle being thrown across the room in admonishment. Only there was no room. No whiskey splattered against a wall behind her. 

Just the darkness.

Murmurs of students waiting for her to snap and go on a killing spree. Being sought out whenever a new monster arrived. Actively going on recruitment trips. Our greatest weapon.

“Shut up…not true…not true…not real,” Hope clapped her hands against her ears to block out the voices in her head.

Only to hear a new voice enter the fray from behind, “Oh how the mighty have fallen. A cliche line but prudent nonetheless.”

It was Clarke, she knew it was Clarke. It had to be him. Hope didn’t dare turn towards the sound of his voice though. She didn’t want to be greeted by the darkness instead. 

Notrealnotrealnotreal-

“Oh but it is real Hope. You aren’t getting the hint though, even with all the clues we gave you,” Clarke laughed at the tribrid. “Dear old dad is just fine with you losing your mind in here. I am too by the way, but petty revenges aren’t going to get me out of here. If you die down here, you will finally be the poison for my little act of patricide to be completed. But you just continue to heal yourself! It’s getting ridiculous.”

Her arms fell to her sides as she considered the words. She may have the blood of a vampire but she wasn’t one yet. 

He could be lying. 

Liarliarliar. 

Maybe he isn’t there. Maybe she’s just hearing things again. What if it's just her thoughts?

“He’ll throw you out if you start to transition, so I’ve decided to do all us monsters a favor and speed the process along. Seeing as how you simply won't just do it for us,” Clarke’s voice became harder to hear. He must’ve been getting closer to her, Hope couldn’t tell what was about to happen. 

Is he going to kill her or just bring her to the brink of death? Does she want this to happen? 

They don’t remember her anyway. But who will protect them? What if she actually comes back worse?

“Nononono…” Hope started to whisper as she constantly turned, looking for assailants and finding nothing. 

She blindly kicked out, feeling an impact but couldn’t tell what was hit. A gash appeared on her cheek as she felt something sharp slash across her face. 

Her right arm was wrenched behind her as a claw slashed at her ankle. Arm dislocated and bleeding from her achilles, Hope flicked out her left hand; her nails turning into claws as she attempted to fight back against the slew of nothing surrounding her.

She made contact with something but only just barely grazing the surface. Catching fur underneath her claws before feeling herself get punched in the throat, choking on air that isn’t there.

The skin of her bleeding wound crawled and began to stitch itself together, healing the tribrid once more.

Only the monsters of this prison would not allow it. 

Bones were shattered in response. Falling to her knees as she felt claws rake into her back. 

Constantly bleeding from new lacerations, Hope began to slow.

She was tired, so so tired of fighting. Fighting nonstop battles was her entire life. 

Hope wanted to stop. The exhaustion that was her life had caught up to her. 

Enemies vying for her death for eighteen years had finally amounted in this moment. 

Centuries of monsters finally accomplishing what the French Quarter could not. 

What the Hollow could not.

Heavy breathing pounded in her ears as her rib cage was bludgeoned.

Her body cracking and breaking was the only sound that reached her ears.

The voices in her head took care of the rest. Her mind fabricated the words of family and friends.

Tears and blood mixed as they slid down her face in rivulets.

She could rest now.

Chapter Text

Her eyes snapped open.

Brightness.

Blinding.

White, yellow, piercing. Sun? 

Blue, clouds. Sky? 

Green, brown. Trees? 

Hurts, it hurts. 

Heartbeats. Car horns blaring. Dogs barking. People. 

Too much, too much, too much.

Too loud. Loudloudloud.

Hope clenched her eyes shut in an attempt to escape into the darkness that was so familiar to her. A haunting but comforting feeling. All that she has known for ages.

She clasped her hands against her ears to block out the noise. Constant sounds assaulted her. 

Where was she? 

What is this? 

Did she finally die?

The movement alerted her to the pain in her body. She was so focused on the havok being wrought upon her senses that she forgot about Clarke and the monster’s last actions. Die down here, speed the process along.

She could smell the iron of her blood surrounding her wounds. Slowly creeping down her body as the cuts healed. The sound of her ribs snapping back into place was abrupt and deafening. 

Other scents began to permeate through the air to reach her nose. The odors made her nauseous after being in the pit unable to sense anything. 

Her head pounded with an oncoming migraine. Hope groaned in distress at her new predicament as she curled into a fetal position on the ground of wherever she was.

The hairs on the back of her neck stood up as she felt the presence of people growing closer. With each step came a flinch, as Hope burrowed herself deeper into her position.

There would be no fighting from her. Not now as her senses were attacked on all fronts. 

Murmurs from the people encircling her were stabbing into Hope’s skull. Each word another blow reverberating through her head.

Their words were incomprehensible. A slew of noise that wouldn’t let up.

Loudloudloudloud.

Her head twitched as Hope let out a keening whimper; paralyzed by the pain and sensations encroaching upon her. Senses that she hasn’t used in who knows how long.

Magic began to build in her core as her panic rose. Hope’s tightly bound control was wavering as these people crowded her.

She was being surrounded. Again.

The urge to scream and let out the buildup of magic was growing stronger with each second. The memory of Lizzie teaching her to let go of her emotions in the woods ran through her mind. 

She could scream. Hope could let go of everything right now and make the crowd disappear as well.

Two birds, one overly powered and traumatized stone.

Didn’t you hear? Her dad is the Great Evil. Wanna bet on when she’s gonna snap?

The mortals would die , her conscience roared as Hope winced; rejecting the taunts of the past that rang in her ears. 

With each breath, a whine of pain let loose only to amplify the concern of a crowd she couldn’t focus on.

Her magic was pulsing underneath her skin as she attempted to think of a way out. It matched time with the beating migraine she acquired, as if it had a life of its own.

Everything hurt and holding back her magic was becoming more difficult by the second.

Her body began to shake with the effort of repressing the backlash. 

Groaning at the strain, Hope mourned the lives of the crowd. 

Of the town. Of the nature surrounding her as the thought of letting go came to her once more.

Let it out. Let it out. Letitoutletitoutletitout.

It’s okay. Just let it out. The real way, the way you wanted to all along.

Hope choked on a sob as she curled into herself further. She had almost forgotten Lizzie’s final lesson. How her emotions were meant to be felt.

Tears streamed down her face, melding with the bloodstains and dirt as Hope remembered the safety of collapsing into Lizzie’s arms as she grieved for her parents. 

For her father. 

Her body shook with her weeping instead of the struggle to contain her magic.

The realization that she was out of the pit crashed over her in waves.

Safe. Is she safe now?

No, she’s never safe. Not in any world is she safe.

Safe to stay. 

Safe to be around. 

Safe from others.

Hope wasn’t being attacked though. She could hear the sounds of people approaching her through the iron grip she had on her ears.

Voices. Phones being pulled out of pockets and bags. Calls being made.

The noise they created was the only weapon the people surrounding her needed.

She pushed her legs further into herself, pressing her forehead against her knees. 

She just has to peel open her eyes. One squint around her to determine if this is real. 

That she isn’t hallucinating again. 

Right as Hope began to crack open an eyelid, her proof made itself known in a more vibrant and brash fashion.

“What the hell are you people doing?!? Son of a bitch, can’t you see you’re making it worse? Stop crowding her,” a familiar voice scolded the mob of townspeople closing in on her.

Her eyes snapped open, scouring the mass of bodies around her. 

They all blurred together as her eyes were moving too fast to process their features.

The sudden brightness assaulting her eyes came with floating blurs of darkness.

She tamped down the urge to find refuge in the dark once more as she took stock of those flanking her.

Only taking in color and sound as she continued with her search, Hope finally set her sights on platinum blonde hair forcing its way through the last barrier of people.

Her breath hitched as she took in the scowl and glare that was pointed at the assembled public.

Hope stared in awe as she let out a hoarse whisper.

“Lizzie.”

Chapter Text

“I cannot believe that you started dating the walking antithesis of a do not resuscitate order while I was in France,” Lizzie squinted at her twin in disgust as they walked through Mystic Falls.

Josie scoffed at her sister in admonishment, “Landon’s sweet, Lizzie. And he kept me company in between helping dad pack up his things. I bet you found something to do when you were done helping mom.”

The blonde paused as she considered her twin’s words. Seeing a therapist probably didn’t have the same effect as obtaining a new significant other but it did pass the time.

“That is entirely besides the point. I’m not mad at you for having a summer fling, it’s just that it’s the unseasoned chicken wing you chose,” Lizzie teased her once more about her taste in romantic partners. “First, the incarnate of Satan and now the underwhelming Fawkes? Such a spectrum of personality.”

Josie groaned in annoyance, her face burning, as she shoved at Lizzie’s shoulder.

A light glare was shot at the brunette before she continued on with her spiel, “I also still don’t believe that he was the reason Malivore disappeared. He doesn’t exactly scream ‘defeater of Mud pits’, the boy is more likely to drown in one.”

Lizzie turned to her twin and arched an eyebrow, searching Josie’s face for any indication she felt the same.

The grimace contorting the siphon’s face said it all.

“Ha! I knew it,” a broad grin spread over Lizzie’s face as she crowed in triumph.

Josie sighed as she pulled her thoughts to together, “I don’t think it was Landon that stopped the pit, but I have a theory as to who did.”

Lizzie glanced around the park before guiding them to a bench. This was going to require her full attention and scheming is always done best in comfort.

“Spill it Joey,” the blonde demanded. “What’s been going on during the era of the parental switch?”

“I’ve been helping dad pack up his office-“

“Meaning, you’ve been packing whilst he drinks. Do continue,” Lizzie interjected.

Josie gritted her teeth but kept calm, “Yes. Anyway, he had some burned files in his trash but they weren’t completely ash. It was like he lit the fire accidentally and then put it out once he realized it was there.”

“Not the worst thing he’s done intoxicated but at least the school is still standing.”

“Yeah, but I could make out some of the words on it. It was a student file.”

Lizzie squinted in confusion, “Why would our father be destroying someone’s records?”

“That was my question,” Josie was getting excited as she was finally able to explain this to her twin. “Then I saw the part of their name that wasn’t burnt: Mikaelson.”

The blonde blinked in shock. 

Josie watched as her words sunk in to her sister.

3….2….1…..

“A Mikaelson?!?!?”

There it is.

“Exactly how I reacted, but there aren’t any Mikaelsons that would be enrolled and I doubt dad would let them do it anyway,” Josie elaborated upon her twin’s reaction.

“I think he’d whip out the crossbow if one of them even entered Mystic Falls,” Lizzie was becoming intrigued by the findings. 

Her dad hated Klaus Mikaelson more than anything; in fact when they helped the man essentially sacrifice himself, their dad almost threw a party before their mother ran across the room to hit him on the back of the head.

The idea that Alaric Saltzman let a Mikaelson inside the school, nevermind attend it, just did not compute.

“Did he tell you what they were?” Lizzie asked for more, a manic gleam entering her eyes.

“Bold of you to think he’d explain anything to me, but he didn’t even know what it was!” Josie was working herself in a full blown information dump. “He didn’t remember , Lizzie.”

The emphasis on the word made the blonde begin to connect some dots. A mud pit dissipating out of nowhere, a Mikaelson having a school record, and their father not remembering. 

One of the most paranoid and untrusting men in regards to the supernatural forgot pertinent information about the Mikaelson family.

Alaric Saltzman who holds knowledge close to his chest and hoards it like a vault.

That man not remembering? Red flag. The reddest of flags. 

Lizzie had never seen a more damning piece of evidence.

“Whoever this Mikaelson is, went to this school and fell in the pit,” the blonde verbalized the theory Josie had for the last few months.

“Exactly, and there’s more,” Josie smiled at her twin, teasing further information.

“Joey, I swear to God, if you don’t currently have a murder board set up in our room then I will be severely disappointed in you,” Lizzie threatened with a smirk.

The twins shared a calculating look of triumph; they may be two completely different people but they were both raised by Caroline Forbes-Salvatore. If there was one thing they knew how to do, it was supreme organizational skills and their application to ensuring any machinations went off without a hitch.

“I had a powerpoint presentation ready to go, Liza, but as this came up in conversation I had to forgo that,” Josie tone matched her twin’s devious expression. “There’s a door across the hall from our room. And I didn’t remember who it belonged to.”

Giddiness bubbled in Lizzie’s chest. It was always nice to see this side of her sister. 

Confidence in her own abilities and knowledge was something Josie had always possessed. Being able to show other people and take charge though? That was a rarity.

One of the reasons Lizzie even went on the trip was to help the both of them grow out of their set roles. 

Lizzie learned that she didn’t need to go on the offense as the first defense and how she didn’t need to take up the room to be seen. 

This summer let Josie grow into herself independently of being the role of support. And it looked fabulous on her.

“Mysterious missing Mikaelson’s room,” the blonde piped in.

“Correct, I siphoned the lock on the door and the bedroom was completely lived in,” Josie’s voice became hushed, as if talking about them would make the Mikaelson appear. “Bed unmade, art supplies scattered around the room, stacks of grimoires, and there were pictures too.”

“So, we have a visual?” Lizzie leaned in, making sure the townies weren’t able to hear.

“She’s a teenager,” the brunette went on to explain. “I think she’s a witch, so she could be Freya’s daughter.”

A spark lit up in Lizzie’s eyes as she contemplated a Mikaelson witch at the school. Besides the coronary that their dad would surely have, the blonde was looking forward to having another person who understood what it was like to not be a traditional witch.

It would be nice for her and Josie to have a friend who got them on that level. Plus there was the added fact that surely this girl would know a bunch of spells that their father would want to ban without a thought.

Lizzie grinned at her twin in excitement, “We have to find a way to bring this girl back! Her family probably has a room filled with random shit belonging to a girl they don’t remember! Ooh and we can-“

Before the siphoner could continue to brainstorm any possibilities, she noticed that there was a large gathering of townspeople growing in the square.

“Oh what fresh hell is going on now?” Lizzie grumbled as she pulled Josie up from the bench.

They began to walk towards the crowd, taking in the murmurs of confusion and concern.

“-happened to her?”

“-shaking like a leaf-“

“-put the camera away, don’t be a di-“

“-flinches when we take a step clos-“

“-gonna call 911?”

The twins shared a worried glance as they attempted to wade through the slew of mortals. 

Lizzie huffed out a breath, annoyed at the obstacles in front of her. Clearly, there was a girl that needed help and these imbeciles weren’t gonna make the cut.

Whilst Josie had a summer of learning to be more independent and forceful, Lizzie knew that she wasn’t aggressive enough to pull the bitch card this soon. Hero time.

She jostled her way through, shoving at the mob intermittently, “What the hell are you people doing?!? Son of a bitch, can’t you see you’re making it worse? Stop crowding her!”

She finally pushed through to the front, Josie strutting behind her, to see a girl curled up on the ground.

Lizzie halted, her voice caught in her throat as she took in the sight of the girl in the center of the crowd.

Blood was caked under nails clasped on the side of the teenagers head. 

Auburn hair streaked with dirt and dried blood.

Her entire outfit was filled with tears and stains. Slashes and rips in the fabric reveal slowly bleeding wounds.

The whimpers coming from the girl receded as her breathing rapidly picked up, her head snapping to attention as she frantically searched her surroundings.

Lost blue eyes connected to Lizzie’s and stayed there. 

The siphoner stood frozen as she noticed the other girl’s features. Unable to react to Josie gripping her arm in alarm, Lizzie was violently reminded that women were extremely attractive and that she was about to have an entirely new problem to deal with now.

Recognition flared within the redhead’s eyes, a hopeful smile overtaking her face as she shakily rasped out, “Lizzie…”

The blonde’s jaw fell open as she finally turned to look at her twin.

Josie’s eyes were wide in shock and awe as she stared at the traumatized teenager that was looking at Lizzie like a lifeline. 

She gulped in trepidation before pointing out what she noticed the second she entered the area, “I think we found her.”

Chapter Text

Lizzie gazed in shock at the girl who spoke her name with such reverence. Never before has her presence given anyone such peace and relief. Sure, Josie would be happy to see her but gaining an immediate sense of calm? Not a chance.

The blonde was used to being a stressor for most of the people in her life and this pint sized witch ceased hyperventilating at the sound of Lizzie’s voice. This was quite a change of pace.

“We need to get her out of here,” Josie hissed, snapping Lizzie out of her stupor. The brunette was glancing warily at all the townspeople who still surrounded them.

Lizzie heaved a sigh as she attempted to figure out a plan for the assumed-to-be Mikaelson. Who jerked back at the sound of her twin’s voice, eyes wide and with a hitch in her breath.

The auburn haired girl flicked her eyes back and forth between both twins in distress. No longer curled into a ball on her side but still seated on the ground with her arms covering herself protectively.

Lizzie furrowed a brow as she saw the other girl’s face begin to contort in a confused panic. Why would hearing Josie cause this girl to revert back to her previous state? 

The blonde focused on how the redhead raised her hands to cover her ears as she began to talk to herself.

“…Jo? She died…not real, not real…” the girl’s frantic muttering was followed by a cry of anguish.

The twins’ shared a frenzied glance; she thought Josie was dead?

Each word that left the unknown witch’s lips was louder than the last, “-uriedshotburiedshot. Buried. Shot. Buried. Shot. Buried. Shot.”

Josie grasped Lizzie’s hand abruptly as the murmurs reached their ears, “Our birthday. She was there on our birthday.”

“And I’m sure she gave us a lovely gift, but we can discuss it after we call in the amnesia squad,” Lizzie hissed under her breath, fighting the urge to launch all of the townies across the square. “Call mom and use the pout of death to get these people to back off. I’m going to see if I can get mini-Mikaelson to calm down.”

Lizzie waited until she saw her twin nod in agreement before slowly approaching the spiraling witch. She could hear the sound of Josie attempting to corral the mortals away from the area as she took tentative steps towards the Mikaelson.

Gradually kneeling in front of the girl, Lizzie bent her head down in an attempt to meet those glacial blue eyes once more. She smiled gently as she gave the other girl some space and thought of a way to get her to calm down.

Clocking how the auburn haired girl winced at the slightest of sounds and avoided looking into the sky for too long, Lizzie figured that the poor thing was overstimulated. Luckily, she had just the thing for such an occasion. 

With a triumphant gleam in her eye, Lizzie softly chanted a spell, “ Firmamenti silentii .”

The unknown witch’s head snapped up again in shock, letting out a hitched breath. It was silent except for the sound of the two girls breathing in tandem.

“Hey there gorgeous,” a crooked grin affixed on Lizzie’s face as blue eyes locked on to hers. “The muggles were annoying me and noise canceling headphones do nothing for my outfit. I thought this would be okay instead if that’s alright with you?”

A wary nod was the only response the siphon received as the girl hesitantly removed her hands from her ears.

“That’s great. You may not know this, but I do love being right,” Lizzie made a conspiratorial smile as she joked in order to break the tension. Happiness filled her chest as the girl huffed in agreeance and rested her chin on her knees.

“You want to tell me what just happened two seconds ago?” The blonde asked carefully, trying not to spook the girl.

A whimper left the witch’s lips as she flinched back, “Not real…didn’t escape…”

Did she think that she was still in Malivore because Josie was alive? Lizzie’s heart dropped at the thought. She tried to remember the details of the Triad attack last semester. Why would the Mikaelson girl believe that Josie was dead? She mentioned being buried and shot…

“Oh shit, Josie took a bullet for me,” Lizzie’s eyes bulged as she remembered one of the reasons they went on separate ‘find-yourself-summers’. Her words caused the other girl to hide her face in her knees, a turbulent moan leaving her as she curled in on herself.

Tact Lizzie! The siphon witch chastised herself, closing her eyes in frustration. Lizzie glanced at the solemn redhead in front of her as she scrambled for a way to fix this. The girl was there when Josie was shot but not for the aftermath. Or if she was, then that overgrown mud pit messed with her head enough to make her forget it. 

“She healed!” The blonde exclaimed as the memory of the wound closing entered her mind. “Some cache of vampire blood healed her! Josie never died!”

A miniscule shake of the head gave Lizzie some indication that she was not going to be believed so quickly.

“Hey, I thought we agreed that I’m never wrong?” The blonde prodded the witch with a smirk. “Josie never died so that means this is real. You escaped, I pinky promise.”

Lizzie lifted her hand, pinky directed towards the other teen. The look of awed disbelief crossed over the girl’s face once more as she took in the blonde and all that she offered. Uncertainty radiated from the chestnut haired girl, her hands clenching in thought.

Those frightened blue eyes wavered as the girl locked her gaze to Lizzie’s. Seeming to make a decision, eyes hardening, the girl slowly lifted her own pinky to the blonde’s outstretched one. 

Before solidifying the promise, pulling back her hand at the last second, the girl steeled herself and swallowed in discomfort proceeding to ask, “...truth?”

Lizzie broke into a shaky smile in relief that she was able to get through to the Mikaelson witch, but she still had to give her final confirmation that this was real. That this poor girl was no longer in the pit. 

“If there is one thing you can trust, know that I will always be brutally honest with you,” her words cause a flash of recognition in the other girl’s face. 

A wistful smile rose on the witch’s face as she spoke what sounded like an aching promise of her own, “Til the bitter end.”

With those words, the auburn witch finally wrapped her pinky around Lizzie’s own; accepting that for the time being, she was no longer in that dreaded pit. 

Not letting her finger go, Lizzie grinned in triumph at this step. Figuring that she could push her luck, the siphon tried to dig deeper with levity, “It seems that you already know my name, which is completely understandable as I am amazing. Do you mind sharing yours? I think I can guess the last name but your first still eludes me.”

A brooding look overcame the witch’s face at the question. Having to introduce herself to Lizzie seemed to break something within the girl. Grief marking her as the blonde’s words made her understand the implications of being out of the pit once more.

Lizzie held her breath and squeezed her pinky in comfort, hoping that she could ground the other witch through the realization that no one knew who she was anymore.

A shattered exhale left the Mikaelson witch as she tensed in Lizzie’s grip. Throat tight with emotion, she spoke through a watery smile.

“Hope.”