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Chapter Text

The "Welcome to Mystic Falls" sign passed by Aeliana Gilbert's window like a bad omen. Six years. Six years since she'd packed her bags and fled this supernatural cesspool for the relative normalcy of New Orleans—though "normal" was a generous term for a city where she'd spent most of her time learning to harness the magic that hummed beneath her skin like a second heartbeat.

She'd thought distance would dull the connection, but the moment her rental car crossed the town line, every nerve ending in her body lit up like Christmas lights on steroids.

"Fantastic," she muttered, gripping the steering wheel harder. The magic here was thick, layered with decades—no, centuries—of supernatural residue. It clung to the air like humidity, and beneath it all, something new pulsed. Something old and dangerous and hungry.

Her phone buzzed in the cup holder. Jeremy's name flashed across the screen for the third time in twenty minutes.

She ignored it.

Her little brother could wait five more minutes before she had to face whatever disaster had made him sound so desperate on the voicemail. Knowing Jeremy—knowing this town—it was probably apocalyptic. These days, Mystic Falls couldn't manage a bake sale without summoning something that wanted to end the world.

The Salvatore boarding house loomed ahead, all Gothic architecture and brooding windows. Of course, Jeremy would be there. Where else would he be? Practically lived there now, apparently, playing supernatural superhero with the vampire brothers and their merry band of eternal drama.

Aeliana pulled into the circular drive, killed the engine, and took a moment to breathe. Centre herself. The magic in her veins crackled, responding to the proximity of so much supernatural energy. She could feel them inside—vampires, definitely multiple. The sharp, cold signature of undead blood was unmistakable.

"You can do this," she told her reflection in the rearview mirror. "In and out. Check on Jeremy. Ignore Damon Salvatore's existence. Don't hex anyone unless absolutely necessary."

The front door swung open before she'd made it halfway up the steps.

"Aeliana!" Jeremy's face split into a grin that made him look fifteen again instead of twenty-one. He bounded down the steps and pulled her into a crushing hug that lifted her feet off the ground. "You actually came."

"You said it was important." She hugged him back, breathing in the familiar scent of her baby brother—now a full head taller than her and solid with muscle. "Also implied the world might end. Again."

"It might not be that dramatic."

"Jeremy Gilbert, you have never in your life accurately gauged dramatic."

"Fair point." He released her but kept one arm around her shoulders, steering her toward the house. "But seriously, I'm glad you're here. Things have been..."

"Supernatural and life-threatening?"

"Well, yeah, but that's just Tuesday."

The entry hall was exactly as she remembered—elegant, expensive, and somehow both welcoming and menacing. Voices drifted from the parlour, multiple conversations overlapping. Aeliana's witch senses catalogued them automatically: vampires, definitely. A werewolf, which was new. And something else, something that made her magic recoil and surge forward simultaneously.

"Before we go in," Jeremy said, lowering his voice, "Elena's here. And Stefan. And Damon."

"Of course they are." Aeliana closed her eyes briefly. "The holy trinity of terrible decisions."

"Be nice."

"I'm always nice. I'm delightful."

 "You told Damon you hoped he'd choke on a vervain mojito last time you were home." Jeremy snorted.

"I stand by that statement. It was both creative and botanically accurate."

They entered the parlour, and every head turned. Aeliana pasted on her brightest, most insincere smile—the one she'd perfected in New Orleans when dealing with vampire tourists who thought a pretty witch was an easy mark.

Elena stood by the fireplace, looking ethereally beautiful in that effortless way that had always made Aeliana want to mess up her hair. Stefan hovered nearby, all brooding nobility and tragic cheekbones. And sprawled on the leather couch, bourbon in hand and smirk firmly in place, was Damon Salvatore.

"Well, well," Damon drawled, those blue eyes tracking her with predatory interest. "The prodigal Gilbert returns. And here I thought Jeremy made you up. An older sister even more disagreeable than Elena? Seemed too good to be true."

"Damon." Aeliana's smile didn't waver. "Still compensating for your personality with top-shelf alcohol and unnecessary leather, I see."

"Aeliana," Elena said, moving forward with her arms outstretched. "It's so good to see you."

Aeliana allowed the hug but didn't return it with much enthusiasm. They'd grown up together, shared the same house, the same last name, but somehow Aeliana had always felt like she was watching Elena's life from the outside. Then Elena had become a vampire, and that distance had evolved into "starring in her own supernatural soap opera while everyone else paid the price."

"You look good," Aeliana said, because it was true and because she was trying to be civil for Jeremy's sake. "Death and resurrection clearly agree with you."

Elena's smile tightened. "I've had a lot of practice."

"Yes, I heard about that. Several times over, wasn't it?"

"Liana," Jeremy warned.

Stefan stepped forward, ever the diplomat. "It's good to see you, Aeliana. Jeremy's been talking about you coming home for months."

"Stefan." She nodded at him. Of the two Salvatore brothers, Stefan was marginally less insufferable. Lower bar than hell, but still. "How's the hero hair? Still achieving maximum brood?"

Despite himself, Stefan's lips twitched. "I manage."

"Adorable family reunion aside," Damon said, unfolding from the couch with liquid grace, "what brings the wayward witch back to our humble hellmouth? Miss the constant mortality crises? The parade of ancient evils? The spectacular property damage?"

Aeliana met his gaze steadily. "Jeremy called. Said it was important."

"It is," a new voice said from the doorway.

Bonnie Bennett entered the parlour, and Aeliana felt her entire body relax. Finally. Her best friend, her magical sister, the one person in this town who'd never once judged her for wanting to escape.

"Bonnie." Aeliana crossed to her in three strides and pulled her into a real hug, not the performative nonsense she'd given Elena. "Tell me what's going on. Your message was cryptic even by your standards."

Bonnie pulled back, and Aeliana saw the worry in her green eyes. "There's something here. In Mystic Falls. Some kind of magical disturbance that's been building for weeks. I can feel it, but I can't identify it. It's ancient, Liana. Older than anything I've encountered."

Aeliana had felt it the moment she'd crossed the town line, but hearing Bonnie confirm it made the hair on the back of her neck stand up. "How ancient are we talking?"

"Old Testament ancient," Bonnie said quietly. "Creation myth ancient."

"Fantastic. Love that for us."

"There's more." Bonnie glanced at the others. "We've been hearing rumours. About New Orleans."

Aeliana's stomach dropped. "What kind of rumours?"

"The Mikaelsons," Stefan said, his voice careful. "We've heard they're in New Orleans. That they've taken up residence there. Klaus supposedly has some interest in the city."

The Original family. The first vampires, the most dangerous creatures in existence, and the reason Aeliana had spent the last year and a half being extremely careful about which parts of New Orleans she frequented. She'd felt their presence in the city—impossible not to, really, when Klaus Mikaelson's power signature was like a nuclear reactor in the magical landscape. But she'd kept her head down, masked her magical signature, and avoided the French Quarter like it was ground zero for a supernatural plague.

Which, functionally, it was.

"They are," Aeliana confirmed. "Klaus claimed the city about two years ago. Has his whole family there now, running it like their personal kingdom. It's actually brought a weird kind of stability to the supernatural community. Everyone's too terrified of pissing off an Original to start any real trouble."

"Stability," Damon repeated, his voice dripping with scepticism. "Klaus Mikaelson, poster boy for peace and tranquillity?"

"More like 'cross me and I'll remove your heart through your spinal column,'" Aeliana said. "But effective, nonetheless. The vampire families fall in line, the witches keep to their territories, the werewolves have a pack structure that Klaus occasionally pretends to respect. It's terrifying but functional."

"And you've been living there?" Elena's voice was sharp with something that might have been concern or might have been accusation. "With them?"

"New Orleans is a big city, Elena. I've been living in the Garden District, studying with a witch named Genevieve. The Mikaelsons stick to the French Quarter. Our paths haven't crossed." Mostly true. She'd seen Elijah Mikaelson exactly once, at a supernatural peace summit that Genevieve had dragged her to. He'd been terrifyingly polite and had eyes that saw far too much. She'd made herself scarce immediately after.

"Here's the thing," Stefan said, his tone diplomatic but firm. "With everything that's been happening—the magical disturbances, the unexplained deaths, the sense that something's building—I think we need to consider that the Mikaelsons might be involved."

"Klaus loves his dramatic entrances," Damon added. "Wouldn't put it past him to send some kind of magical warning shot before showing up to ruin our lives again."

Aeliana considered this, reaching out with her magical senses to probe at the disturbance Bonnie had mentioned. It was there, pulsing beneath the town like a second heartbeat. Ancient. Powerful. But the signature was wrong for Klaus. Wrong for any of the Mikaelsons, actually.

"I don't think this is them," she said slowly. "The magical signature is different. The Originals carry vampire magic—it's dark, cold, preserved. This is something else. Something older."

"Older than the first vampires?" Jeremy asked. "How is that possible?"

"The world is full of old things, little brother. Vampires aren't the first supernatural creatures to walk the earth. They're not even the oldest."

"Comforting," Damon muttered into his bourbon.

"But," Aeliana continued, and she felt a grim smile tug at her lips, "Stefan raises a good point. We should be concerned about the Mikaelsons. Which is why I think we should all be extremely grateful that they're currently in New Orleans and not here."

"Thank you," Damon said, gesturing with his glass. "Finally, someone with sense. The Originals are in Louisiana, we're in Virginia, and let's keep it that way. I vote we all appreciate the distance and not do anything stupid to change that."

Stefan frowned. "Damon—"

"No, I'm with him on this," Aeliana interrupted, surprising everyone including herself. "Look, I've spent two years in the same city as Klaus Mikaelson. I've felt his power. I've heard the stories. I've seen what happens to people who get on his bad side. The absolute last thing we need is to draw Original attention back to Mystic Falls. They're in New Orleans? Great. Perfect. Let's all agree to leave them there and focus on whatever fresh hell is brewing here."

"I can't believe I'm saying this," Damon said, staring at her with something that might have been respect, "but the witch makes an excellent point. As long as the big bad Originals are playing king and queen of New Orleans, they're not here making our lives miserable. That's what we in the business call a win."

"They could be connected," Stefan insisted. "Whatever's happening here could be tied to them."

"It's not," Aeliana and Bonnie said in unison.

They looked at each other, and Bonnie nodded. "Aeliana's right. The magical signature is wrong. This is something different."

"Something we need to identify and deal with," Aeliana added. "Before it becomes a bigger problem. Bonnie, can you show me where the disturbances have been strongest?"

"The old cemetery," Bonnie said. "By the witch burial ground. The magic there has been going haywire."

"Of course it's a cemetery," Aeliana muttered. "Why is it always a cemetery?"

"Because the veil is thinner there," Jeremy said. "Easier for supernatural things to cross over."

"That was rhetorical, Jer. I know why. I just hate it."

"Before you two run off to play with dark magic," Damon said, "can we circle back to the part where we all agree to let sleeping Originals lie? Stefan's over here ready to send them a strongly worded letter or whatever martyrish thing he's planning, and I'd like to make sure we're all on the same page of 'don't poke the Original vampires.'"

"I'm not planning anything," Stefan said, his jaw tight. "I'm just saying we should be prepared—"

"For what?" Aeliana cut in. "For Klaus to decide Mystic Falls needs his special brand of attention again? The best preparation is to stay off his radar entirely. Trust me on this. I've made it two years in New Orleans by being very, very uninteresting to the Mikaelson family. It's a survival strategy that works."

"You really think they won't come back?" Elena asked quietly. "After everything that happened here? After everything with Klaus and Tyler and—"

"I think Klaus has bigger concerns now," Aeliana said. "New Orleans is a power base. It's strategic. It's symbolic. He's not going to abandon it to deal with Mystic Falls drama unless we give him a reason to. So, let's not give him a reason."

"Agreeing with Damon Salvatore," Bonnie murmured to Aeliana. "Never thought I'd see the day."

"Desperate times," Aeliana muttered back. "Besides, even a broken clock is right twice a day."

"I heard that," Damon said.

"Good. Your vampire hearing is functional."

Stefan sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Fine. We table the Mikaelson discussion for now. But if this situation escalates—"

"Then we reassess," Aeliana said firmly. "But not before. The last thing we need is to create a problem where one doesn't exist. Now, if we're done debating vampire politics, Bonnie and I have a magical mystery to solve."

"I'm coming with you," Jeremy said immediately.

"Absolutely not."

"Liana—"

"You're not a witch, Jer. You won't be able to sense what we're looking for, and you'll just be a distraction." She softened her tone at his crestfallen expression. "I just got back. Let me do the dangerous magical investigation first, and then we'll have quality sibling time. I promise."

"You've been back for twenty minutes."

"And I've already agreed with Damon Salvatore and volunteered for cemetery duty. I'm on a roll. Don't ruin it."

Jeremy looked to Elena for support, but she just shrugged. "She has a point."

"Fine," Jeremy grumbled. "But you're buying me dinner after. And I get to pick the place."

"Deal." Aeliana looked at Bonnie. "Ready?"

"Let's go before something else apocalyptic happens."

They were halfway to the door when Damon's voice stopped them. "Hey, witch?"

Aeliana turned back, eyebrow raised. "Which one?"

"The mouthy one. Welcome home. Try not to blow anything up on your first day back."

"No promises." But despite herself, Aeliana felt her lips twitch. "Try not to drink yourself into a stupor before noon."

"Also, no promises."

"Fantastic. We understand each other."

Outside, the autumn air was crisp and carried the scent of dying leaves and something else—something that made Aeliana's magic stir uneasily. Bonnie's car was parked behind her rental, a sensible sedan that somehow perfectly encapsulated Bonnie's entire personality.

"You really think the Mikaelsons aren't involved?" Bonnie asked as they drove toward the cemetery.

Aeliana was quiet for a moment, reaching out with her senses again, probing at the disturbance. "I think they're not directly involved. But Bonnie, this thing we're feeling? It's old enough that they might know what it is. The Originals have been alive for a thousand years. They've seen things, encountered things that the rest of us only read about in grimoires."

"So, we might need them."

"Let's hope not. Because asking an Original vampire for help is a great way to end up in debt to an Original vampire. And that's a debt that always comes due in blood."

Bonnie sighed, her fingers tapping a rhythm on the steering wheel. "I just wish we had more to go on. This whole situation feels like we're walking blindfolded into a minefield."

"Welcome to Mystic Falls," Aeliana said dryly. "Where the supernatural is the norm and the apocalypse is always just around the corner."

Bonnie chuckled, but it was a humourless sound. "You know, sometimes I wonder why we even bother. Every time we think we've got a handle on things, something worse comes along."

"Because we have to," Aeliana replied softly. "Because if we don't, who will? This town is our home, Bonnie. We protect it because it's what we do. It's who we are."

Bonnie's grip on the steering wheel tightened. "And what about when it gets to be too much? When the weight of it all feels like it's crushing you? Do we just keep going until we break?"

Aeliana's eyes narrowed. "Are you saying you want to give up? After everything we've been through, you're ready to throw in the towel?"

"I'm saying I'm tired, Aeliana. I'm tired of fighting battles that never end. I'm tired of losing people I care about. And I'm tired of feeling like no matter what we do, it's never enough."

Aeliana's voice was sharp. "So, what, you think running away is the answer? You think leaving Mystic Falls will magically solve all our problems?"

Bonnie's eyes flashed with anger. "Don't you dare judge me. You left. You ran off to New Orleans and left us to deal with everything here. You don't get to come back and act like you're some kind of hero."

Aeliana's jaw clenched. "I left because I needed to learn how to control my magic. I left because I thought I could come back stronger, better equipped to help. But I never stopped caring about this town, about you."

Bonnie's voice softened, but the tension remained. "I know. And I'm glad you're back. But you have to understand, it's been hard. We've all had to make sacrifices."

Aeliana took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm of emotions swirling inside her. "I get it, Bonnie. I do. But we can't afford to fall apart now. Not when something this big is brewing. We need to stick together, even if it's hard. Especially if it's hard."

Bonnie nodded, her expression resolute. "You're right. I'm sorry. I just... I needed to vent."

Aeliana's lips curved into a small, understanding smile. "It's okay. We're in this together, remember?"

Bonnie returned the smile, though it was tinged with sadness. "Yeah.”

The cemetery gates loomed ahead, wrought iron twisted into designs that were meant to be decorative but just looked ominous. Bonnie parked, and they walked in silence through the rows of headstones, past the mausoleums and crypts, toward the witch burial ground at the back.

The magic here was thick enough to choke on. Aeliana felt it pressing against her skin, seeping into her bones. Ancient. Hungry. Waiting.

"Here," Bonnie said, stopping in front of a large oak tree. Its roots had broken through several of the old graves, creating a tangled mess of earth and bone and bark. "This is where it's strongest."

Aeliana knelt, pressing her palm flat against the disturbed earth. Power jolted up her arm, and for a moment—just a flash—she saw something. Felt something. A presence. Old and vast and furious.

She jerked her hand back, breathing hard.

"What did you see?" Bonnie asked.

"I don't know." Aeliana's hand was shaking. "But it's awake. Whatever this is, Bonnie, it's awake and it's angry and it's looking for something."

"Looking for what?"

"I don't know that either." Aeliana stood, brushing dirt from her jeans. "But we need to find out. Before it finds what it's looking for first."

Above them, clouds gathered across the sun, casting the cemetery in shadow. In the distance, Aeliana could have sworn she heard something—a whisper, a laugh, a promise of things to come.

Welcome home indeed.

Chapter Text

The Mystic Grill was exactly as Aeliana remembered it—warm lighting, the smell of grease and beer, and enough supernatural creatures pretending to be human that it might as well have hung a sign reading "Monsters Welcome."

She slid into the booth across from Jeremy, who'd already ordered her a burger and fries without asking. Comfort food. Her little brother knew her well.

"So," Jeremy said, stealing one of her fries before she'd even picked up her own. "How bad is it?"

"The cemetery?" Aeliana took a bite of her burger, buying time to organize her thoughts. "Bad. Whatever's buried there wants out, and it's testing the boundaries. Bonnie and I reinforced the wards, but it's like putting a Band-Aid on a bullet wound."

"Great metaphor. Very comforting."

"You asked for honesty."

Jeremy leaned back, studying her with those dark eyes that had seen far too much for someone his age. Then again, they all had. Mystic Falls had a way of aging people in ways that had nothing to do with years. "You're staying though, right? You're not going to do your thing where you fix the immediate problem and then disappear back to New Orleans?"

Aeliana paused mid-bite. "My thing?"

"Yeah. Your thing. Where you swoop in, save the day, and leave before anyone can get too close."

"That's not—" She stopped, because it absolutely was her thing, and they both knew it. "Jer, I have a life in New Orleans. A coven. Responsibilities."

"You have a brother in Mystic Falls. One who hasn't seen you in six years."

The guilt hit like a physical blow. "You could have visited."

"I did. Twice. You were always busy with witch stuff." He wasn't accusatory, just stating facts, which somehow made it worse. "I'm not trying to make you feel bad. I get it. This place is a lot. But I missed you, Liana."

She reached across the table and squeezed his hand. "I missed you too. I'm sorry I stayed away so long."

"So, you're staying? At least until we figure out what's trying to claw its way out of that cemetery?"

"Yeah," Aeliana said, surprised to find she meant it. "Yeah, I'm staying."

Jeremy's grin could have lit up the entire restaurant. "Good. Because Elena's throwing one of her dinner party things tomorrow night, and I need someone there who'll actually tell me if I have food in my teeth instead of being all diplomatic about it."

"Elena's having a dinner party? During a supernatural crisis?"

"It's what she does. Creates normalcy through sheer force of will and place settings."

"That's the most Elena thing I've ever heard."

"She insisted. Said we all need to remember we're human—well, mostly human—and that means maintaining traditions. Caroline's helping with the planning, which means it'll be perfect and slightly terrifying."

"Caroline Forbes?" Aeliana groaned. "Is she still...?"

"Aggressively organized and controlling? Yep. Also, a vampire now, so she has eternity to perfect her party planning skills."

"Of course she's a vampire. Why wouldn't she be?"

The door to the Grill opened, bringing with it a gust of autumn air and Damon Salvatore. Because of course. The vampire scanned the room with predatory efficiency before his eyes landed on their booth. His smirk appeared like clockwork.

"Oh good," Aeliana muttered. "My evening was missing insufferable vampire."

Damon sauntered over, uninvited, and slid into the booth next to Jeremy. "Jeremy. Judgmental witch. Lovely evening we're having."

"What do you want, Damon?" Aeliana asked.

"A world without consequences, a bottle of 1864 bourbon, and fewer people who greet me with hostility." He stole one of Jeremy's fries. "Since I can't have those things, I'll settle for information. What did you and Bonnie find at the cemetery?"

"Why do you care?"

"Because whatever's brewing in that cemetery has the potential to make my life difficult, and I've hit my quota for difficulty this decade."

"Your life is already difficult. You're a vampire with commitment issues and a drinking problem."

"See, this is what I'm talking about. Hostility." But Damon's eyes were serious beneath the sarcasm. "I'm not asking to be nosy, Gilbert. I'm asking because Stefan's in full hero mode, Elena's pretending everything's fine, and I'd like at least one person to tell me the truth about how screwed we are."

Aeliana studied him. Damon Salvatore was a lot of things—arrogant, impulsive, occasionally homicidal—but he wasn't stupid. And right now, beneath the smirk and the swagger, she could see genuine concern.

"We're pretty screwed," she said finally. "Whatever's in that cemetery is old. Older than Bonnie or I have ever encountered. It's been contained for a long time, but the containment is failing. The wards are deteriorating, and we don't know why."

"Can you fix them?"

"We reinforced them today, but it's temporary. Without knowing what we're dealing with, we're just guessing at solutions."

Damon was quiet for a moment, his fingers drumming against the table. "Have you considered asking someone who might know? Someone who's been around long enough to have encountered ancient magical nasties before?"

"If you're suggesting what I think you're suggesting—"

"The Mikaelsons are in New Orleans. You're from New Orleans. You must have some kind of connection."

"I actively avoided having connections with the Mikaelsons. That was the entire point."

"But you could reach out."

"No."

"Aeliana—"

"No." She leaned forward, her voice low and sharp. "Do you have any idea what asking an Original vampire for help would mean? The cost? Klaus Mikaelson doesn't do favours out of the goodness of his heart. He collects debts like some people collect stamps, and he always, always calls them in."

"Even if it means preventing something that could threaten him too?"

"We don't know if this threatens him. For all we know, this thing is contained to Mystic Falls, and bothering Klaus about it would just draw his attention back here. Which, if you recall our conversation earlier today, is exactly what we agreed not to do."

Damon held up his hands. "Just throwing it out there as an option."

"Well, throw it back out. It's a terrible option."

Jeremy had been watching them volley back and forth like a tennis match. "Okay, but hypothetically—and I'm just playing devil's advocate here—if we can't figure out what this thing is, and it breaks free, wouldn't that be worse than owing Klaus a favour?"

"Depends on the favour," Aeliana said darkly. "The last person I heard about who owed Klaus a favour ended up as a human sacrifice in some convoluted revenge plot."

"Cheerful," Damon muttered.

"You asked for truth. I'm giving you truth. The Mikaelsons are not a resource. They're a last resort, and we're nowhere near last resort territory yet."

"Fine. Then what's the plan?"

Aeliana pulled out her phone and scrolled through her contacts, deliberately avoiding looking at certain names that appeared on the screen. Names she'd told herself she'd deleted but somehow never had. "I'm going to call in a favour of my own. There's a witch in New Orleans—Genevieve Harcourt. She's been around for a while, knows her history. If anyone can point us in the right direction without involving the Originals, it's her."

"Will she help?"

"She owes me for that thing with the werewolf pack last spring. She'll help."

Damon stood, dropping a twenty on the table. "Keep me posted. And Gilbert?"

"Which one?"

"The mouthy one. For what it's worth, I'm glad you're staying. Jeremy's less annoying when you're around."

"I'm right here," Jeremy protested.

"I know. Doesn't make it less true." Damon's smirk returned in full force. "Don't do anything stupid without me."

"That implies I'd do something stupid with you."

"Now you're getting it."

He left, and Aeliana watched him go with a mixture of irritation and something that might have been grudging respect. "I hate that he makes sense sometimes."

"He's like that," Jeremy said. "Fifty percent terrible, fifty percent surprisingly decent, one hundred percent annoying about it."

"That's a hundred and fifty percent."

"He's overachieving."

Aeliana laughed despite herself. God, she'd missed this. Missed Jeremy's terrible math and easy humour. Missed having someone who knew her well enough to call her on her bullshit but loved her anyway.

They spent another hour at the Grill, Jeremy filling her in on the last six years of supernatural chaos. The tomb vampires. Katherine. The sacrifice. Klaus's hybrid curse. The Originals' brief but devastating reign over Mystic Falls. Silas and the cure. Every story was more insane than the last.

"How are you even alive?" Aeliana asked when he'd finished. "Seriously, Jer. You should be dead ten times over."

"Protective older sister instincts kicking in?"

"More like wondering what kind of guardian angel you pissed off to survive all that."

"I'm resourceful."

"You're lucky."

"That too."

Her phone buzzed. Bonnie.

Found something in my grandmother's grimoire. Can you come by tomorrow morning?

Yeah. What did you find?

Reference to something called the Serpent's Covenant. Might be connected.

Aeliana's blood went cold. The Serpent's Covenant. She'd heard that name before, whispered in the New Orleans covens like a curse. An ancient pact between witches and something else, something dark, sealed away centuries ago.

Be there at 9.

She set down her phone and found Jeremy watching her. "That face you're making is not a good face."

"It's not a good situation."

"Worse than we thought?"

"Potentially much worse." She pushed her half-eaten burger away, appetite gone. "The Serpent's Covenant is old magic. Blood magic. The kind that requires sacrifice and leaves scars on the world."

"And it's in our cemetery."

"Looks that way."

Jeremy was quiet for a moment. "You know what you said about the Mikaelsons being a last resort?"

"Yeah."

"How close are we to last resort?"

Aeliana wanted to lie, to tell him they had time, that she and Bonnie could handle this. But she'd already promised him honesty. "I don't know yet. Let me talk to Bonnie tomorrow. See what she found."

"And if what she found is really bad?"

"Then we figure it out. Together. Like we always do."

"We've never dealt with anything like this."

"First time for everything."

They left the Grill an hour later, after Jeremy had extracted promises that she'd be at Elena's dinner party and that she'd stay at the boarding house. Not that she had much choice—the Gilbert house was ash and memory now.

"Still can't believe she burned it down," Aeliana muttered as they drove back toward the Salvatore mansion.

"She thought I was dead," Jeremy said, for what was probably the hundredth time since it happened.

"So, the logical response was arson? Destroying our entire childhood, every memory, every photo album, every piece of our parents that we had left?" Aeliana's grip on the steering wheel was white-knuckled. "I'm sorry, Jer, but I will never not be salty about that."

"I know."

"Our grandmother's grimoire was in that house. The one that had been passed down for generations. Gone."

"I know, Liana."

"Did she even think about the fact that you might come back? People come back from the dead in this town more often than they do laundry."

Jeremy sighed. "She was grieving. People don't think clearly when they're grieving."

"Well, she better have impeccable fire insurance, because when this is all over, I'm submitting an itemized list of everything I lost." Aeliana pulled into the boarding house drive with more force than necessary. "Starting with my entire childhood bedroom."

The boarding house loomed before them, all Gothic stone and judgmental windows. At least the Salvatores had plenty of space. And bourbon. She was definitely going to need bourbon.

Stefan met them at the door, because apparently vampires had nothing better to do than lurk. "Jeremy. Aeliana. I've set up a room for you—third floor, east wing. Should be quiet."

"Thanks," Aeliana said, trying to muster some gratitude and failing. Everything about being back here, staying in this house, reminded her that her actual home was gone.

Jeremy squeezed her shoulder. "I'm gonna raid the kitchen. You good?"

"Yeah. Go. Eat your feelings."

He disappeared down the hall, leaving her with Stefan, who was looking at her with far too much understanding. "It wasn't her finest moment," he said quietly.

"That's a diplomatic way of putting it."

"She regrets it."

"I'm sure she does. Doesn't unburn the house though, does it?" Aeliana started up the stairs. "Where's this room?"

Stefan led her to the third floor, down a hallway lined with oil paintings of people who were probably dead but might also be vampires—it was hard to tell. The room he showed her was actually nice: four-poster bed, antique furniture, a window that looked out over the darkened grounds.

"There are spare clothes in the closet if you need them. Bathroom's through there. If you need anything—"

"I'll manage. Thanks, Stefan."

He nodded and left, closing the door softly behind him. Aeliana stood in the centre of the room, surrounded by luxury and history that wasn't hers, and felt the loss of her own history like a physical ache.

She sat on the unfamiliar bed and pulled out her phone, scrolling to Genevieve's number. It was late, but Genevieve kept vampire hours anyway. Her thumb hovered over the call button for a long moment, and she absolutely did not let her eyes drift up three contacts to where another name sat. A name she hadn't called in months but hadn't been able to delete either.

She looked around the room again—beautiful, expensive, temporary. Everything she'd owned, everything that had mattered, reduced to ashes because Elena couldn't handle grief like a normal person.

Aeliana pressed Genevieve's name firmly and lifted the phone to her ear, trying to push down the bitterness that threatened to choke her.

The phone rang three times before a familiar voice answered. "Aeliana. I was wondering when you'd call."

"Gen. I need information."

"Of course you do. No one ever calls just to chat." But there was warmth in Genevieve's voice, and underneath it, something else. Curiosity. "What's the crisis?"

"The Serpent's Covenant. What do you know about it?"

Silence. Long enough that Aeliana checked to make sure the call hadn't dropped. Then, carefully: "That's not a name I expected to hear tonight. Where are you?"

"Mystic Falls."

"Ah. Home for the prodigal witch." Genevieve's voice carried layers of meaning. "And you've encountered signs of the Covenant there?"

"We think so. There's something in the old cemetery, something ancient and angry. Bonnie found a reference in her grandmother's grimoire."

"Bonnie Bennett? Sheila's granddaughter?" Genevieve made a humming sound. "That makes sense. The Bennett witches were involved in the original binding. Tell me, Aeliana, have there been any unusual deaths? Bodies drained but not by vampires? Symbols carved into trees or stone?"

Aeliana's stomach dropped. "I don't know. I just got here today. Why?"

"Because the Serpent doesn't break containment all at once. It tests. It sends out tendrils of power, looking for weaknesses, for anchors. If it's active, there will be signs." Genevieve paused. "How long are you planning to stay?"

"As long as it takes to deal with this."

"And then back to New Orleans?"

There was something in Genevieve's tone, something pointed. "Why do you ask?"

"No reason. Just curious if you're planning to say goodbye properly this time. To everyone."

Aeliana's jaw tightened. "Gen—"

"I'm not judging, chérie. You know I'm not. But running away to Virginia in the middle of the night without so much as a text to certain people? That was cold, even for you."

"I didn't run away."

"You packed everything you owned, broke your lease, and disappeared. If that's not running away, what would you call it?"

"Strategic retreat."

Genevieve laughed, but it wasn't entirely kind. "Is that what we're calling it now? And does this strategic retreat have anything to do with a certain firstborn Mikaelson witch who spent three weeks asking where you'd gone?"

Aeliana's heart stuttered. "Freya asked about me?"

"Asked. Demanded. Used increasingly creative threats involving bodily harm and enchantments that would make a sailor blush." Genevieve's voice softened. "She was worried, Liana. You two were close, and then you just vanished."

"We weren't that close."

"You spent almost every evening with her for six months. You shared spells, went to supernatural negotiations together, had drinks at Rousseau's every Thursday. I watched you smile more in those six months than in the entire previous year."

"Gen, I can't—"

"I'm not asking you to explain. Whatever happened between you two, whatever scared you enough to leave, that's your business. But Liana, if this Serpent's Covenant is what I think it is, you're going to need help. Powerful help. The kind that comes with a thousand years of magical knowledge and experience with ancient entities."

"No."

"You haven't even heard what I was going to say."

"You were going to say I should contact Freya."

"I was going to say you should consider all your options. But yes, Freya would be the logical choice. She's dealt with bindings like this before. The Mikaelsons have encountered more ancient evils than probably anyone else alive."

Aeliana stood and paced to her window, looking out at the darkened street. "What exactly is the Serpent, Gen? Everything I've heard has been vague."

"Because knowledge of it was deliberately suppressed. But the short version?" Genevieve's voice dropped, taking on the cadence of someone reciting history. "The Serpent's Covenant was a pact made between a coven of witches and an entity that predates humanity. The witches wanted power—immortality, specifically. They wanted to live forever, to accumulate magic across centuries like the vampires accumulated wealth and influence."

"That's impossible. Witches can't be immortal. It goes against nature."

"Exactly. Which is why the pact went wrong. The entity they summoned—the Serpent, though that's not its true name—agreed to grant them extended life. But the cost was steep. For every year they lived beyond their natural span, it required a sacrifice. Blood. Pain. Eventually, entire families. The coven fractured. Some wanted to continue, to pay the price. Others realized the horror of what they'd done."

"And the Bennett witches?"

"Were part of the faction that wanted to end it. Sheila's ancestor, Emily Bennett, was instrumental in the binding. It took dozens of witches and shamans from multiple traditions to trap the Serpent and seal it away. They buried it beneath sacred ground, bound it with blood and salt and iron, and swore their descendants would maintain the wards."

"But the wards are failing now."

"They're failing because something weakened the binding. These wards were meant to last centuries. Millennia, even. Something significant would have to happen to compromise them."

"Could it be the supernatural activity in town? We've had a lot of it. Vampires, werewolves, hybrids. Klaus Mikaelson himself was here for a while."

The silence on the other end of the line was deafening. Then Genevieve swore in French, creative and vicious. "Klaus was there? When?"

"Few years ago, I think. Before I moved to New Orleans. He was trying to break some hybrid curse, used Mystic Falls as his personal playground for a while."

"That... could be it. Mon Dieu, Aeliana, the presence of an Original, especially one as powerful as Klaus, would put enormous strain on any magical binding. His very existence is an affront to nature. Add in all the other supernatural activity—the deaths, the resurrections, the magic being thrown around—yes. That could absolutely weaken the wards enough for the Serpent to start pushing through."

"How do we stop it?"

"You reinforce the binding. But Aeliana, it's not going to be simple. The original binding required blood from the witches who made the pact. Their descendants. If the Bennett witches were involved, then Bonnie's blood will be needed. Possibly yours too, if your line was connected to the original coven."

"My line?"

"The Gilberts have been in Mystic Falls for generations, yes? And there's magic in your blood. It's possible your ancestors were involved in some capacity."

Aeliana hadn't considered that. Her magic had manifested late, in her teens, and she'd always assumed it was a random occurrence. But if her family line had been connected to the Serpent's Covenant...

"What else would we need?" she asked.

"Power. A lot of it. And something to anchor the binding. The original used an artifact—a talisman created from the blood and bone of the first sacrifice. It was supposed to be buried with the Serpent, but..." Genevieve trailed off. "Actually, if the binding is failing, it's possible the anchor is missing or corrupted. That would explain why the wards are deteriorating despite the Bennett line maintaining them."

"So, we need to find an ancient blood talisman that may or may not still exist."

"Or create a new anchor. Which would require..." Genevieve hesitated. "It would require a significant sacrifice, Liana. Not necessarily death, but close to it. A piece of someone's life, their magic, their essence. The kind of sacrifice that leaves marks."

The kind of sacrifice Aeliana had sworn she'd never make again. Not after what she'd seen in New Orleans, the prices people paid for power, the way magic could hollow you out if you let it.

"There has to be another way," she said.

"Maybe. But to know for sure, you'd need to consult with someone who's seen bindings like this before. Someone who's lived long enough to have encountered the Serpent or something similar."

"Genevieve—"

"I'm not saying you have to call her. I'm saying it's an option. One you should at least consider before things get desperate." Genevieve's voice gentled. "For what it's worth, I think she'd help. Despite how things ended between you two."

"Nothing ended between us. There was nothing to end."

"Aeliana, chérie, I love you. But you're a terrible liar, at least to people who know you." Genevieve sighed. "Whatever you're afraid of—her family, her power, your own feelings—it can't be worse than unleashing an ancient entity that feeds on sacrifice."

"You'd be surprised what I'm afraid of."

"No," Genevieve said softly. "I really wouldn't. I watched you fall for her, you know. Watched you try to convince yourself it was just friendship, just convenience, just anything other than what it actually was. I watched you panic when you realized you cared too much. And I watched you run."

Aeliana's throat was tight. "I didn't—"

"You did. And maybe you had good reasons. The Mikaelsons are dangerous, complicated, and come with more baggage than anyone should have to carry. But Freya isn't Klaus. She isn't Elijah or Rebekah or any of the others. She's just... Freya. A witch who spent a thousand years being used by her aunt, who finally got free and found family, who happened to meet another witch and actually connected with her."

"Gen, please."

"I'll send over everything I have on the Covenant. Sparse as it is. But Liana? If this gets bad—and I think it will—promise me you'll at least consider reaching out. Pride isn't worth dying over."

"I'll think about it."

"That's all I ask." Genevieve paused. "And Liana? It's good to hear your voice. I've missed having you around."

"I've missed you too."

"Then maybe come back when this is over. Or at least visit. You have people here who care about you. Not just me."

After they hung up, Aeliana sat in the darkness of her borrowed room, phone still clutched in her hand. Her thumb moved almost of its own accord, scrolling up three contacts. The name stared back at her.

Freya Mikaelson

She'd saved it under just the first name, as if that would somehow make it less significant. As if anyone else named Freya would be calling her at midnight to discuss obscure Norse binding spells or argue about the proper way to harvest mandrake root or share stories over whiskey at Rousseau's.

Six months. They'd had six months of late-night conversations and shared magic and moments that had felt like something building toward something else. Six months of Aeliana feeling seen in a way she'd never experienced before, of someone understanding the weight of power and responsibility and fear without judgment.

And then Freya had smiled at her in a way that made Aeliana's magic sing, had touched her hand while explaining a particularly complex spell, had looked at her like she was someone worth keeping.

And Aeliana had panicked.

Because Freya Mikaelson wasn't just a witch. She was an Original's sister. She was part of a family that had terrorized Mystic Falls, that had tried to kill Elena, that had hurt people Aeliana cared about. Getting close to Freya meant getting close to all of them—to Klaus's volatility, to Elijah's calculating nature, to a thousand years of supernatural politics and blood feuds and casual immortal cruelty.

It meant risking everything for someone she barely knew, even if it felt like she'd known her forever.

So, she'd run. Packed her things in the middle of the night and came back to Mystic Falls, to the town she'd spent years trying to escape, because at least here the monsters were familiar.

Even if one of those monsters had burned down her house.

Her phone buzzed. A text from Jeremy.

You okay up there? Been awful quiet.

Yeah. Just tired. Long day.

Get some sleep. Tomorrow's going to be chaos.

When isn't it chaos?

Fair point. Night, Liana.

Night, Jer.

She set the phone on the unfamiliar nightstand, face down so she wouldn't see if any notifications came through. Then she changed into sleep clothes she'd found in the closet—probably Rebekah's at some point, fitted for someone taller—and lay in bed staring at the ceiling.

Tomorrow she'd meet with Bonnie. They'd research the Serpent's Covenant, figure out their options, make a plan. They'd handle this the way they always handled supernatural crises—with determination and probably some morally questionable magic and a significant amount of luck.

And she would not think about Freya Mikaelson. Would not remember the way her laugh sounded after her third glass of whiskey, or how her magic felt when they'd cast spells together, or the expression on her face the last time they'd seen each other, confused and hurt and already starting to worry.

She would absolutely not think about calling her.

Not yet.

Not unless there was no other choice.

Downstairs, she heard Jeremy moving around, the familiar sounds of him existing in a space that wasn't home but had become home by necessity. The boarding house settling around them, old wood creaking, vampires probably lurking somewhere. Outside her window, Mystic Falls slept, unaware of what was stirring beneath its sacred ground.

And in New Orleans, in a compound in the French Quarter, a firstborn witch marked another day in the mental calendar she'd been keeping since a certain Gilbert witch had disappeared from her life.

Neither of them slept particularly well that night.

But neither of them reached out either.

Not yet.

Chapter Text

Aeliana woke to sunlight streaming through unfamiliar curtains and the disorienting sensation of not knowing where she was. For a brief, blissful moment, she thought she was back in her apartment in New Orleans, with its cheerful yellow walls and the sound of street musicians drifting up from below.

Then reality crashed back. Mystic Falls. The boarding house. The Serpent's Covenant.

Her phone showed 8:17 AM and three missed texts from Bonnie, all sent within the last fifteen minutes.

Come over as soon as you can

Found more in the grimoire. It's worse than we thought

Bring something for a protection spell. This is bad, Liana

"Fantastic," Aeliana muttered, rolling out of bed. Nothing like starting the day with supernatural doom and gloom.

She showered quickly—the Salvatore's water pressure was criminally good; she'd give them that—and dressed in yesterday's clothes since all her actual belongings were still in her rental car. Mental note: unpack at some point. If she survived long enough to need more than one outfit.

The boarding house was quiet as she made her way downstairs, though she could feel the presence of vampires somewhere in the building. Probably sleeping off whatever drama they'd gotten into last night. The kitchen, at least, was empty.

She was debating whether to risk making coffee when Stefan appeared in the doorway, already impeccably dressed and looking like he'd stepped out of a brooding catalogue.

"Morning," he said. "There's coffee already made. Damon's contribution to household harmony."

"Damon made coffee?"

"Damon made the housekeeper make coffee before she left yesterday. He takes credit anyway." Stefan poured her a mug without asking, adding cream the way she'd always taken it. He'd clearly been paying attention back when she'd still lived here, before New Orleans. "You're going to Bonnie's?"

"How did you—"

"Vampire hearing. Also, you have that look."

"What look?"

"The 'something supernatural is trying to kill us and I need to research it immediately' look. It's familiar."

Despite everything, Aeliana smiled. "Yeah, well. It's a look that gets a lot of use in this town."

"Fair." Stefan leaned against the counter, studying her. "How bad is it? Really?"

She considered lying, softening it. Then remembered that Stefan had survived a century and a half of supernatural chaos. He could handle the truth. "Bad enough that I'm considering options I swore I'd never consider. How's that for a metric?"

"That's... not great."

"No, it's not." She took a long drink of coffee, letting the caffeine start its magic. "Where's Jeremy?"

"Still asleep. He got in late last night, after you went up. Something about helping Matt with a patrol."

"Patrol?" Aeliana's eyebrows rose. "What, like neighbourhood watch?"

"More like supernatural watch. They've been monitoring the town line, checking for unusual activity." Stefan's expression was carefully neutral. "It's become necessary."

"Because this town is a magnet for disaster."

"That's one way to put it."

Aeliana finished her coffee and rinsed the mug, a small gesture of normalcy in an abnormal situation. "Tell Jer I'll be back before Elena's dinner party. And Stefan? If anything comes up—anything weird, unusual deaths, strange symbols—call me immediately."

"You think the Serpent's already making moves?"

"I think something this old doesn't stay quiet when it wakes up. It tests boundaries. Sends out feelers. And if Bonnie's texts are any indication, we're running out of time to figure out how to stop it."

The drive to Bonnie's apartment took fifteen minutes through streets that held too many memories. The old high school where Aeliana had spent four years trying to be normal. The town square where she'd had her first kiss. The park where her parents used to take them on weekends, before the accident that had taken them away.

Mystic Falls was beautiful in the autumn morning light, all golden leaves and historic charm. It was also a death trap wrapped in small-town aesthetic, and Aeliana had spent six years trying to forget that.

Bonnie lived in a small apartment above the old hardware store, a space that hummed with ambient magic the moment Aeliana climbed the stairs. Protection spells layered over protection spells, wards that would give any supernatural creature pause before entering.

Smart.

Bonnie opened the door before Aeliana could knock, pulling her inside with urgent hands. "Thank god. I've been up since four going through this, and Liana, it's so much worse than we thought."

The apartment was a disaster. Books covered every surface—grimoires, journals, loose pages of spells and notes. Candles burned in strategic corners, maintaining some kind of scrying circle. And in the centre of the living room, spread across the coffee table, was what looked like several pages from an ancient grimoire.

"Okay," Aeliana said, taking in the chaos. "Walk me through it."

Bonnie grabbed one of the pages, handling it carefully. The parchment was old, the ink faded but still legible in the flowing script of whoever had written it. "This is from my grandmother's journal. She documented everything the Bennett line knew about the Serpent's Covenant. The ritual that bound it, the wards that maintain it, and—" She paused, her face grave. "—the consequences if it breaks free."

"How bad are we talking?"

"End of the world bad. Not metaphorical end of the world. Actual, literal end of civilization as we know it." Bonnie set down the page and picked up another. "The Serpent isn't just an entity, Liana. It's a primordial force. Chaos and hunger given form. When the original coven summoned it, they didn't understand what they were calling. They thought they could control it, use it. They were wrong."

Aeliana moved closer, reading over Bonnie's shoulder. The text was dense, written in a mixture of English and Latin and what looked like ancient Greek. But the meaning was clear enough: the Serpent fed on life itself. Not just blood or death, but the essence of living things. If it broke free, it would consume everything in an ever-expanding radius until nothing remained.

"Jesus," Aeliana breathed. "No wonder they buried it."

"It gets worse." Bonnie pulled out another page, this one covered in diagrams. "The binding requires a living anchor. Someone to channel the wards, to maintain them through their own life force. Originally, it was shared among twelve witches from the founding families. But over the centuries, the bloodlines died out or left. By the time my grandmother's generation came around, there were only three families left maintaining it: the Bennetts, the Gilberts, and the Lockwoods."

Aeliana's blood went cold. "The Gilberts."

"Your line has been feeding power into this binding for over a century, Liana. That's probably why your magic manifested so strongly—you were born to be an anchor."

"And the Lockwoods?"

"Werewolves now. The curse activated in Tyler's generation, which severed their connection to the witch magic. That left only the Bennetts and the Gilberts." Bonnie's voice dropped. "When your parents died, when my grandmother died, the binding lost two of its three anchors. I've been maintaining it alone for years without even knowing what I was doing."

The implications hit like a truck. "That's why it's failing. You can't hold it by yourself."

"I've been trying. But it's like trying to hold back a flood with my bare hands. Every day it gets harder, and the Serpent gets stronger." Bonnie's eyes were bright with unshed tears. "I'm not strong enough, Liana. Not alone."

Aeliana grabbed her best friend's hands, squeezing tight. "You're not alone. I'm here now. We'll figure this out."

"Will we?" Bonnie's voice cracked. "Because I've been researching all night, and every solution I've found requires either impossible ingredients, knowledge that's been lost to time, or—" She stopped, biting her lip.

"Or what?"

"Or help from someone who was alive when the Serpent was first bound."

There it was. The thing they'd both been dancing around since yesterday. The elephant in the room that kept getting bigger and harder to ignore.

"The Mikaelsons," Aeliana said flatly.

"Freya Mikaelson specifically." Bonnie pulled away, pacing to the window. "I found a reference in one of the older texts. A mention of a 'firstborn witch of the north' who witnessed the original binding. Who helped with the ritual, actually. Freya would have been alive then. She would have been there."

Aeliana's heart was pounding too fast. "That doesn't mean she remembers it. That was a thousand years ago."

"She's a thousand-year-old witch, Liana. Memory spells exist. If she was there, she could access those memories. She might be the only person alive who knows exactly how the binding was done." Bonnie turned back, her expression apologetic. "I know you don't want to involve the Mikaelsons. None of us do. But if we can't figure this out on our own—"

"Then we keep looking." Aeliana moved to the scattered books, started sorting through them. "There has to be another way. Something in these grimoires, some spell or ritual we haven't considered."

"I've been through them all."

"Then we'll go through them again. Together."

They worked in silence for a while, each taking a stack of texts and searching for anything useful. The morning sun climbed higher, casting light across pages of spells and bindings, protective wards and banishing rituals. None of it was quite right. None of it was strong enough for what they were facing.

Around noon, Bonnie's phone rang. She glanced at it and sighed. "Caroline. Probably calling about tonight's dinner party."

"Answer it. I need a break anyway."

While Bonnie talked to Caroline about seating arrangements and appetizers—because apparently even supernatural crises didn't stop Caroline Forbes from hosting—Aeliana stepped out onto the small balcony. The town spread out before her, peaceful and oblivious.

Somewhere out there, beneath sacred ground, something ancient was stirring. Testing its bonds. Waiting for the moment they'd snap.

Her phone buzzed. A text from an unknown number, except it wasn't unknown. She'd deleted the contact months ago but had apparently memorized the number anyway.

Genevieve tells me you're dealing with something old and hungry. Want to talk about it?

Aeliana stared at the screen, her thumb hovering over the delete button. She should delete it. Should block the number. Should definitely not respond.

She typed anyway.

How did you get my number?

The response came immediately, like Freya had been waiting.

You gave it to me six months ago, remember? You told me to call if I ever needed help with a particularly stubborn protection ward. I kept it. Just in case.

In case of what?

In case you ever stopped running long enough to let me help you.

Aeliana closed her eyes, leaning against the balcony railing. This was a bad idea. This was the worst idea. Getting Freya involved meant opening a door she'd fought so hard to close.

But Bonnie was right. They were running out of options. And if Freya really had been there at the original binding...

It's called the Serpent's Covenant. Ever heard of it?

This time, the response took longer. Long enough that Aeliana wondered if she'd said the wrong thing, if mentioning the Serpent would make Freya run in the opposite direction.

Then: Where are you?

Mystic Falls

Virginia? You left New Orleans and went back to Virginia?

Family emergency

The Serpent's Covenant is more than a family emergency, Aeliana. It's an extinction-level event waiting to happen.

So, you do know about it

I was there when they bound it. I was eighteen years old and terrified out of my mind, but yes. I was there.

Aeliana's hands were shaking. Eighteen. Freya had been eighteen when she'd helped bind a primordial entity that fed on life itself. Before Dahlia had taken her, before her long sleep, when she'd just been a young witch trying to protect people.

Can you help us?

The pause this time was even longer. Aeliana could almost see Freya on the other end, weighing options, calculating costs. The Mikaelson way—nothing came for free.

Yes. But not over the phone. This is complex magic, Aeliana. The kind that requires preparation and precision. If you want my help, I need to be there.

In Mystic Falls

In Mystic Falls

Which meant Freya Mikaelson, sister to Klaus, would be coming to the town her family had terrorized. The town that still bore the scars of Original vampires running rampant.

Just you?

Just me. I can be there tomorrow. Send me the address.

Aeliana should have asked more questions. Should have established terms, boundaries, consequences. Should have done literally anything other than what she did, which was type Bonnie's address and hit send before she could talk herself out of it.

Thank you

Don't thank me yet. We haven't solved anything. And Aeliana? When I get there, we're going to talk. About the Serpent, and about why you left without saying goodbye.

Aeliana didn't respond to that. Just pocketed her phone and went back inside, where Bonnie was finishing up with Caroline.

"—yes, I'll bring the crystals. No, I don't think we need blood magic at a dinner party, Caroline. That's excessive even for you." Bonnie hung up and looked at Aeliana. "She wants to sage the entire house before guests arrive. I don't have the heart to tell her that most of the guests are already dead."

"Bonnie." Aeliana's voice came out steadier than she felt. "I contacted someone. About the Serpent."

Bonnie went very still. "Who?"

"Freya Mikaelson. She was there at the original binding. She's coming here tomorrow to help."

"Oh." Bonnie sat down slowly on the couch, processing. "Oh. That's... good. That's good, right? We need help."

"Yeah."

"But?"

"But nothing. It's fine. It's just business." Aeliana moved back to the books, needing something to do with her hands. "She gets here tomorrow, we figure out how to reinforce the binding, and then she goes back to New Orleans. Simple."

"Liana—"

"It's fine, Bonnie."

"You're using your 'it's fine when it's definitely not fine' voice."

"I don't have one of those."

"You absolutely do. You've had it since we were fourteen and you insisted you were fine after your parents died when you clearly weren't."

Aeliana stopped pretending to read the grimoire in her hands. "I don't want to talk about it."

"You never do." Bonnie's voice was gentle. "But when she gets here, you're going to have to. You can't just... ignore whatever happened between you two."

"Watch me."

"Aeliana—"

"Bonnie, please. Can we just... focus on not dying? I'll deal with my personal drama after we've saved the world."

Bonnie studied her for a long moment, then nodded. "Okay. But for the record, running away from things never actually solves them."

"No, but it postpones them. And right now, postponement sounds pretty good."

They spent the rest of the afternoon going through the grimoires with renewed purpose. If Freya was coming tomorrow, they needed to have as much information gathered as possible. Maps of the cemetery, documentation of the weakening wards, records of any strange occurrences in town over the last few months.

It was tedious, meticulous work. But it kept Aeliana's mind occupied, which was a blessing. Better to focus on ancient evil than on the fact that in less than twenty-four hours, she'd be face to face with the person she'd run halfway across the country to avoid.

Around five, Jeremy texted asking where she was. Elena's dinner party started at seven, and apparently her presence was non-negotiable.

"I should go," Aeliana said, setting down the journal she'd been annotating. "Got to play happy family at Elena's Perfect Dinner Party."

"Want me to come?" Bonnie offered. "Moral support?"

"Caroline already recruited you for setup, didn't she?"

"Three hours ago. I've been ignoring the subsequent seventeen texts." Bonnie's phone buzzed as if on cue. "Make that eighteen."

"Go. Save Caroline from herself. I'll survive dinner."

"Will you though? Because last I checked, you were still pretty angry about the whole house-burning incident."

"I'm always angry about the house-burning incident. Doesn't mean I can't be civil over pasta or whatever absurdly complicated meal Elena's planned."

Aeliana gathered her notes, stuffing them into her bag. Tomorrow they'd have help. Real, knowledgeable help from someone who'd actually been there. It should have felt like relief.

Instead, it felt like standing on the edge of a cliff, knowing the fall was coming but unable to step back.

"Hey," Bonnie said as Aeliana reached the door. "For what it's worth? I think you're doing the right thing. Calling her."

"Yeah, well. Ask me that again after she gets here and sees what a disaster this situation is. There's a non-zero chance she'll take one look at the wards and decide we're all doomed."

"Then we'll be doomed together. Like always."

Aeliana managed a smile. "Like always."

The drive back to the boarding house gave her too much time to think. About the Serpent, about Freya, about all the ways this could go spectacularly wrong. She was so lost in thought that she almost missed the symbols.

They were carved into a tree at the edge of the cemetery—crude, violent slashes in the bark. But Aeliana knew enough about dark magic to recognize a summoning circle when she saw one.

She pulled over, getting out for a closer look. The symbols were fresh, maybe a day old. And they formed a pattern she recognized from the grimoires she'd been studying all day.

Someone had been trying to weaken the wards. Deliberately.

"Shit," she breathed, pulling out her phone to photograph the symbols. This wasn't just the Serpent testing its bonds. Someone was actively helping it break free.

Which meant they had bigger problems than she'd thought.

She texted Bonnie the photos with a simple message: We have a bigger problem

Then she got back in her car and drove to the boarding house, mind racing. Who would want to free the Serpent? And more importantly, did they have any idea what they were unleashing?

The boarding house was lit up like a Christmas tree when she arrived, warm light spilling from every window. Through the glass, she could see people moving around—Elena directing traffic, Caroline adjusting table settings, Stefan carrying wine bottles.

Normal. They were all trying so hard to be normal.

And outside, in the growing dark, ancient evil stirred and someone was actively trying to help it break free.

Aeliana sat in her car for a moment, gathering her strength. She could do this. Smile through dinner, pretend everything was fine, and tomorrow when Freya arrived, they'd figure out how to stop both the Serpent and whoever was trying to unleash it.

Simple.

Her phone buzzed one more time. Freya.

Flying out tonight. I'll be there by morning. Don't do anything stupid before I arrive.

Despite everything, Aeliana found herself smiling at the screen.

No promises

Aeliana

I'll try. No guarantees in this town

Then I'll get there as fast as I can. Stay safe

Aeliana stared at those last two words for longer than she should have. Stay safe. Like she mattered. Like Freya actually cared whether she survived the night.

Maybe she did.

That was the dangerous thought. The one Aeliana couldn't afford to entertain.

She pocketed her phone and headed into the boarding house, putting on her best fake smile. Time to pretend everything was fine while the world crumbled around them.

Just another Thursday in Mystic Falls.

Chapter Text

The boarding house dining room had been transformed into something out of a magazine spread. Candles everywhere—probably a fire hazard, but Caroline Forbes didn't do anything by halves. The table was set with China that probably cost more than Aeliana's entire college education, crystal glasses catching the light, and enough silverware to confuse an etiquette expert.

Aeliana stood in the doorway, taking it all in with a mixture of amusement and exhaustion. "Is this a dinner party or are we summoning Martha Stewart's ghost?"

"Both, if Caroline has her way," Damon said from behind her, making her jump. He smirked at her reaction, glass of bourbon already in hand even though it was barely six-thirty. "She's been terrorizing Stefan all afternoon about napkin folding techniques. Apparently, there's a wrong way to fold a napkin. Who knew?"

"Everyone who's ever met Caroline knew."

"Fair point." He took a drink, studying her over the rim of his glass. "So. Big day of witchy research? Discover anything that's going to keep us all from dying horribly?"

"Define horribly."

"I'm a vampire. My bar for horrible is pretty high."

Aeliana moved into the room, running her finger along the edge of the table. The wood was old, solid. Like everything else in this house, built to last centuries. "We found some things. Nothing conclusive yet."

"That's witch-speak for 'yes, we're probably all going to die horribly,' isn't it?"

"That's witch-speak for 'I'm handling it.'"

"Ah. Even worse." Damon circled around to the bar cart, refilling his glass. "Want one? You look like you could use one."

"It's not even seven."

"It's five o'clock somewhere. Also, we live in Mystic Falls. The usual rules don't apply."

He had a point. Aeliana crossed to the bar cart and poured herself two fingers of bourbon. "If Elena asks—"

"You're drinking water. I'm an excellent liar." Damon raised his glass in a mock toast. "To impending doom and the witches trying to prevent it."

"You're in a mood."

"I'm always in a mood. It's part of my charm."

"Is that what we're calling it?"

"What would you call it?"

"A personality disorder masked by expensive alcohol and leather jackets."

Damon's grin was sharp and genuine. "See, this is why I like you, Gilbert. You don't pull punches."

"Someone has to keep your ego in check."

"Please. My ego is perfectly sized, thank you very much." He leaned against the bar cart, his expression shifting to something more serious. "But really. How bad is it?"

Aeliana considered lying, keeping it light. But Damon had asked for truth yesterday, and she'd given it to him. "Bad enough that I called in reinforcements."

"Reinforcements? What kind of reinforcements?"

"The kind with a thousand years of experience dealing with ancient magical entities."

Damon went very still. "You called the Mikaelsons."

"I called a Mikaelson. Singular. Just Freya."

"The witch sister."

"The witch sister who was present at the original binding and might actually know how to fix this." Aeliana took a drink, letting the bourbon burn down her throat. "She'll be here tomorrow morning."

"And Klaus? Elijah? The rest of the Original nightmare family?"

"Not coming. Just Freya."

Damon studied her for a long moment, and Aeliana had the uncomfortable sensation of being seen. Really seen, in a way that made her want to look away. "You trust her."

It wasn't a question, but Aeliana answered anyway. "I trust her knowledge. And right now, that's what we need."

"Knowledge. Right." Damon's tone suggested he thought there was more to it, but mercifully, he didn't push. "Well, this should make dinner interesting. Does Elena know you've invited an Original to town?"

"She's not—" Aeliana stopped. "I was going to tell everyone tonight."

"Oh, this will be fun. I should make popcorn."

"You're not supposed to enjoy other people's discomfort."

"I'm a vampire. I enjoy lots of things I'm not supposed to." Damon's smirk returned. "Besides, watching Elena try to maintain her hostess composure while internally freaking out about an Original coming to Mystic Falls? That's quality entertainment."

"You're terrible."

"And yet, you're not disagreeing about the entertainment value."

Aeliana hid her smile behind her glass. She shouldn't enjoy Damon's commentary. Shouldn't find his particular brand of chaos amusing. But after six years away, there was something almost refreshing about his complete lack of filter.

The front door opened, bringing with it a wave of voices. Elena's laugh, bright and practiced. Stefan's lower murmur. And cutting through both—Caroline's organizational anxiety in full force.

"—no, the flowers go in the centre, not on the sideboard. The sideboard is for the wine. We discussed this, Stefan."

"I'm pretty sure we didn't discuss—"

"We absolutely discussed it. You just weren't listening because you were too busy brooding about something."

"I don't brood."

"You absolutely brood. It's like your default setting."

Damon raised his glass toward the doorway. "And so, it begins."

Elena swept in first, looking effortlessly beautiful in a soft blue dress that probably cost more than it had any right to. Her eyes landed on Aeliana, and her smile brightened. "Liana! You're here early. That's great. You can help me with—oh." Her gaze dropped to the bourbon glass. "Starting early?"

"It's been a long day," Aeliana said evenly.

"Right. Of course." Elena's smile didn't waver, but something flickered in her eyes. Judgment, maybe. Or concern. With Elena, it was always hard to tell. "Well, everyone should be here soon. Bonnie texted that she's on her way. Caroline's outside directing Stefan on proper flower placement—"

"I can hear you!" Caroline's voice drifted in from the foyer. "And it's not directing, it's coordinating!"

"—and Jeremy's picking up Matt," Elena continued, moving to adjust a napkin that was already perfectly folded. "It'll be nice. Just like old times."

Except it wasn't like old times, because old times hadn't involved vampires and werewolves and ancient curses. Old times hadn't involved Elena burning down their house or Aeliana running away to New Orleans or any of the thousand other things that had fractured whatever relationship they'd once had.

But Aeliana just smiled and nodded, because that was easier than the truth. "Just like old times."

Elena's expression softened. "I really am glad you're here. I know things have been... complicated. But you're family, Liana. You'll always be family."

The word sat uncomfortably between them. Family. As if shared history and a last name were enough to bridge the distance Aeliana had deliberately built.

"Thanks," Aeliana managed. "I should go see if Caroline needs help."

She escaped before Elena could say anything else, Damon's knowing look following her out of the room.

The foyer was chaos. Caroline stood in the centre like a general directing troops, pointing at flower arrangements and making small adjustments that probably no one else would notice. Stefan held a vase with the patient expression of someone who'd learned that arguing with Caroline Forbes was an exercise in futility.

"Left. No, your other left. Stefan, you've lived for over a century, how do you not know your lefts and rights?"

"I know my lefts and rights. I just don't think it matters if the vase is two inches to the left or right."

"It matters to the feng shui."

"Vampires don't need feng shui."

"Everyone needs feng shui. It's science."

"I'm pretty sure that's not—"

"Aeliana!" Caroline's attention swivelled like a laser. "Thank god. Someone with taste. Tell Stefan that the vase needs to be centred on the table."

Aeliana glanced at the vase, which looked perfectly fine where it was. "It looks centred to me."

"See?" Stefan said.

"But," Aeliana continued, "if you moved it two inches to the left, it would balance better with the candles on the right side."

Caroline's face lit up. "Exactly! Thank you. Stefan, two inches to the left."

Stefan gave Aeliana a look that clearly said 'traitor' but moved the vase. "Happy?"

"Ecstatic," Caroline said, already moving on to the next crisis. "Now, the wine. We have red and white, obviously, but I'm thinking we should also have champagne for a toast. Thoughts?"

"I think you've put more thought into this dinner than most people put into their weddings," Aeliana said.

"Is that a compliment or an insult?"

"Yes."

Caroline paused, then laughed. "Fair enough. It's good to see you, Liana. Even if you did disappear for six years without so much as a postcard."

"I sent postcards."

"You sent two postcards. In six years. One of them was a generic 'Greetings from New Orleans' with no actual message."

"I was busy."

"For six years?"

"New Orleans is a very busy city."

Caroline studied her, and Aeliana saw the moment she decided to let it go. "Well, you're here now. That's what matters. Come on, help me with the seating chart. I've redone it four times and it's still not right."

They moved into the dining room, where Caroline had an actual diagram laid out with little name cards. Color-coded, naturally. Aeliana felt a headache forming just looking at it.

"So, I have Elena at the head, obviously, since she's hosting. Stefan next to her. Damon across from Stefan because putting them next to each other is asking for trouble. Jeremy here, Matt here—they can talk about patrol or whatever it is they do. Bonnie next to Jeremy because they're... whatever they are. And that leaves you here, between Damon and Matt."

"Why am I between Damon and Matt?"

"Because you can handle Damon's commentary and you won't feel obligated to make small talk with Matt about high school."

"I don't want to make small talk with Matt about anything."

Caroline's expression shifted to something more sympathetic. "I know you two have history—"

"We don't have history. We had a mutual friend who died. That's not history, that's trauma."

Vicki Donovan had been in Aeliana's year at school. They hadn't been close—Vicki had run with a rougher crowd, while Aeliana had been busy pretending to be normal—but they'd had shifts together. Shared tables sometimes. And then Vicki had been turned into a vampire and killed, and Matt had phoned Aeliana like she should have been able to prevent it. Like her magic should have saved someone she barely knew.

She'd avoided him ever since.

"Right," Caroline said carefully. "Well, you're still sitting there. I spent three hours on this seating chart and I'm not changing it again."

"Three hours?"

"It's a complex social dynamic. There are factors."

"It's dinner."

"It's never just dinner in Mystic Falls."

She had a point.

The front door opened again, bringing with it Bonnie's voice and Jeremy's laugh. Aeliana excused herself from Caroline's seating chart obsession and went to greet them.

Bonnie looked better than she had this morning—less frantic, more centred. The kind of calm that came from having a plan, even if the plan was potentially dangerous. She pulled Aeliana aside the moment Jeremy was distracted by Elena.

"Did you tell them?" Bonnie asked quietly.

"Not yet. I was going to wait until dinner."

"Caroline's going to freak out."

"Caroline freaks out about napkin placement. She'll survive."

"And Elena?"

Aeliana glanced over at Elena, who was hugging Jeremy and laughing at something he'd said. So effortlessly put together. So perfectly composed. "Elena will smile and be gracious and then have a complete meltdown the moment everyone leaves."

"You sound like you're looking forward to it."

"I'm not not looking forward to it."

Bonnie shook her head, but she was smiling. "Six years away and you haven't changed a bit."

"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"

"I'm still deciding."

Matt arrived last, looking uncomfortable in a button-down shirt that was too formal for him but probably Caroline-mandated. His eyes skipped over Aeliana like she wasn't there, which was fine. Perfect, actually. The less interaction, the better.

They gathered in the dining room at seven sharp—Caroline's schedule was not negotiable—and took their assigned seats. Aeliana found herself between Damon and Matt, exactly as Caroline had planned, and tried not to feel trapped.

Elena stood at the head of the table, wine glass raised. "I just want to say how happy I am that we're all here together. It's been... well, it's been a difficult few years. But we've survived. We're still here. Still fighting. Still family." Her eyes found Aeliana's. "And having Liana home makes it feel complete. So, here's to family. To survival. To us."

Everyone raised their glasses. "To us."

The toast felt hollow in Aeliana's mouth, but she drank anyway.

Dinner started with appetizers that Caroline had apparently spent all day preparing—some kind of bruschetta situation that was actually delicious. Conversation flowed around the table, careful and light. Stefan asked Jeremy about his latest research project. Caroline interrogated Bonnie about a spell she was working on. Damon made sarcastic commentary about everything and nothing.

Aeliana picked at her food and waited for the right moment to drop her bomb.

It came halfway through the main course—some kind of chicken dish that Elena had clearly spent hours on. The conversation had lulled, everyone focused on eating, when Caroline asked the question Aeliana had been dreading.

"So, Liana, how long are you staying? Just for the weekend or...?"

"Actually, I'm staying as long as it takes to deal with the situation."

Elena perked up. "Situation? What situation?"

Here goes nothing. "The thing in the cemetery. The Serpent's Covenant. It's worse than we initially thought, and Bonnie and I need help dealing with it."

"What kind of help?" Stefan asked carefully.

"The kind that requires someone who was alive a thousand years ago and has experience with primordial entities."

The table went very quiet.

"You're bringing in the Mikaelsons," Elena said, her voice tight.

"I'm bringing in Freya Mikaelson. Just Freya. She was present at the original binding and might be the only person alive who knows how to properly reinforce the wards."

"Absolutely not." Elena set down her fork with deliberate precision. "No. No Mikaelsons in Mystic Falls. Not after everything Klaus did, everything they all did—"

"Freya wasn't here for any of that," Aeliana cut in. "She was locked away by her aunt. She had nothing to do with Klaus's reign of terror."

"She's still his sister. Still an Original."

"She's not an Original. She's a witch. A powerful one, yes, but she's not a vampire. And more importantly, she knows things we need to know if we're going to stop this thing from breaking free and consuming everything within a hundred-mile radius."

"Wait, wait," Jeremy said. "Consuming everything? You said it was contained."

"It is. For now. But the wards are failing, and if they collapse completely, the Serpent will feed on every living thing it can reach. Starting with Mystic Falls and expanding outward until someone stops it or there's nothing left to feed on."

The silence this time was deafening.

"Okay," Matt said, speaking for the first time since they'd sat down. "So, we need help. I get that. But why the Mikaelsons? Why can't you and Bonnie figure it out? You're both powerful witches."

Aeliana resisted the urge to point out that Matt knew literally nothing about magic or its limitations. "Because this binding is a thousand years old and requires knowledge that's been lost to time. Freya was there. She helped create it. We need her."

"When is she coming?" Stefan asked, ever practical.

"Tomorrow morning."

"Tomorrow?" Caroline's voice went up an octave. "As in, tomorrow tomorrow? That's not enough time to prepare—"

"Prepare for what?" Damon drawled. "It's one witch. A powerful, potentially dangerous, related-to-Klaus witch, sure, but still just one person. We'll manage."

"Easy for you to say," Elena snapped. "You're not the one Klaus spent years terrorizing."

"Actually, I'm pretty sure he terrorized all of us at various points. But wallowing in past trauma isn't going to stop an ancient evil from eating the town, so maybe we focus on the current crisis?" Damon looked at Aeliana. "She's coming alone? No Original backup?"

"Just her."

"Then I don't see the problem. We use her knowledge, solve the Serpent situation, and she goes back to New Orleans. Everyone wins."

"The problem," Elena said, her voice icy, "is that we're inviting a Mikaelson into our lives again. Do you not remember what happened last time?"

"I remember perfectly. I also remember that we don't have a lot of options here." Damon leaned back in his chair. "Unless you'd prefer to die horribly when the Serpent breaks free? Because that's the alternative Gilbert Junior is presenting."

"Her name is Aeliana," Jeremy said quietly.

"I'm aware."

The tension around the table was thick enough to cut. Aeliana pushed her food around her plate, appetite completely gone. This was going about as well as she'd expected.

"I'm not asking for permission," she said finally. "I'm informing you as a courtesy. Freya will be here tomorrow. She'll help us reinforce the wards. And then she'll leave. That's it."

"You can't just make decisions that affect all of us—" Elena started.

"Actually, I can. It's my bloodline that's been powering part of this binding for over a century. My family's magic that's been keeping this thing contained. So yes, Elena, I can make decisions about how to handle it."

Elena's face flushed. "That's not fair."

"You're right. It's not fair. You know what else isn't fair? Having our entire childhood home burned to the ground because you couldn't handle grief like a normal person. But we all deal with things in our own way, don't we?"

The words hung in the air like poison. Jeremy closed his eyes. Bonnie winced. Caroline looked like she wanted to disappear under the table.

Elena's eyes were bright with unshed tears. "I thought he was dead."

"People come back from the dead in this town constantly. You could have waited. You could have not destroyed every memory, every photo, every single thing we had left of our parents."

"Liana—" Jeremy started.

"No. I'm sorry, Jer, but I'm not going to pretend I'm okay with it. I'm not okay with it. I will never be okay with it." Aeliana stood, napkin dropping onto her half-finished plate. "Freya arrives tomorrow at nine. If anyone wants to be there when we go to the cemetery, you're welcome to come. If not, stay here and have your feelings about the Mikaelsons. I don't care either way."

She walked out before anyone could respond, leaving behind the perfectly set table and the carefully constructed normalcy and all of it.

The night air was cold, sharp in her lungs. Aeliana made it to the edge of the property before she let herself stop, hands shaking with anger and adrenaline and too many emotions she didn't want to name.

Footsteps behind her. She didn't turn around.

"That went well," Damon said, because of course it was Damon.

"Go away."

"And miss the aftermath? Never." He appeared beside her, offering a fresh glass of bourbon. Where he'd gotten it, she had no idea, but she took it anyway. "For what it's worth, you're not wrong. About any of it."

"I don't need you to validate me."

"No, but you're getting it anyway. Free of charge, even." He took a drink from his own glass. "Elena has a martyr complex the size of Texas and the emotional regulation skills of a teenager. The house thing was objectively terrible. You're allowed to be angry about it."

"I don't want to be angry. I want to not care."

"If you didn't care, you wouldn't have come back."

He had a point. Aeliana took a long drink, letting the bourbon work its magic. "She's going to hate having Freya here."

"Probably. But she'll deal with it. Elena's good at dealing with things she can't control by pretending to have control over everything else. It's exhausting to watch but effective."

"You're surprisingly insightful when you're not being an ass."

"I contain multitudes. It's part of my charm."

"Still not calling it charm."

"You will eventually. I'm very persistent."

They stood in comfortable silence for a while, watching the stars appear one by one above Mystic Falls. Somewhere in the distance, Aeliana could feel the cemetery. The wards. The thing beneath them pressing against its containment like a wild animal testing the bars of its cage.

Tomorrow, Freya would be here. Tomorrow, they'd face it together.

Tonight, she'd stand in the dark with a vampire who understood that sometimes anger was justified, and silence was better than empty comfort.

"Thanks," she said quietly.

"For what?"

"For not telling me I was wrong to leave dinner."

"You weren't wrong. You were honest. That's rarer and more valuable." Damon finished his bourbon. "Come on. Let's go back inside before Caroline has a breakdown about the seating chart being ruined."

"The seating chart she spent three hours on?"

"The very same."

"She's going to kill me."

"Probably. But you're a witch. You can take her."

Aeliana found herself smiling despite everything. "Yeah. I probably can."

They walked back to the boarding house together, back to the mess she'd left behind. But with Damon's sarcastic commentary and another glass of bourbon, it felt almost manageable.

Almost.

Inside, the dinner party had dissolved into smaller conversations. Elena and Stefan in one corner, speaking in low voices. Caroline stress-cleaning the kitchen with Bonnie's help. Jeremy and Matt talking by the fireplace, probably about patrol or whatever supernatural crisis management they'd been doing.

Aeliana caught Jeremy's eye, and he gave her a small smile. No judgment. Just understanding.

She could work with that.

Tomorrow would bring its own challenges. Tonight, she'd survive dinner and pretend everything was fine and not think about the fact that in less than twelve hours, she'd see Freya Mikaelson again for the first time in six months.

Not think about it at all.

The bourbon helped with that.

Chapter Text

Aeliana woke at dawn to her phone buzzing on the nightstand. A text from an unknown number that was decidedly not unknown.

Landed an hour ago. Rented a car. Will be there by 9 as promised. Should I come to the boarding house or meet you somewhere else?

Her heart did something complicated in her chest. She stared at the message for a long moment before typing back.

Boarding house is fine. We'll go to the cemetery from here.

See you soon.

Two words. Three syllables. Shouldn't have made her stomach flip the way it did.

Aeliana threw off the covers and headed for the shower, trying to convince herself that the nervous energy coursing through her veins was about the Serpent, about the binding, about anything other than the fact that in less than three hours, she'd see Freya Mikaelson again.

The boarding house was already awake when she came downstairs. Stefan in the kitchen making breakfast—because apparently vampires who didn't need to eat still insisted on maintaining domestic routines. Jeremy at the table, looking like he'd already been for a run. And Damon, predictably, pouring bourbon into his coffee.

"It's seven in the morning," Aeliana said.

"I'm aware. Would you like some?" He held up the bottle.

"I'm trying to maintain some semblance of professionalism today."

"Why start now?"

"Because a Mikaelson is going to be here in less than two hours and I'd prefer not to smell like a distillery when she arrives."

"Fair point." Damon added another splash to his coffee anyway. "Is the princess awake yet?"

"Elena's not up," Stefan said, flipping something that looked like an omelette. "She was up late last night. Processing."

"Processing," Aeliana repeated. "Is that what we're calling sulking now?"

Stefan gave her a look. "She's allowed to have feelings about this."

"Never said she wasn't. Just said she needs to process them quickly because Freya will be here at nine and we have work to do."

"About that," Jeremy said, setting down his coffee mug. "What's the plan? We all just stand around while you and Freya and Bonnie do witch stuff?"

"Pretty much. Unless you've developed magical abilities overnight."

"Sadly, no. Still tragically human."

"The most tragic," Damon agreed.

Bonnie arrived at eight-thirty, looking nervous and carrying a bag full of supplies—candles, herbs, crystals, the usual witchy arsenal. She'd changed clothes three times, she admitted to Aeliana in a whisper, before settling on jeans and a dark green sweater.

"It's not a date," Aeliana said. "It's a supernatural crisis intervention."

"I know. I just... we're meeting an Original's sister. A thousand-year-old witch. I want to make a good impression."

"You'll make a fine impression. You're brilliant and powerful and you've been maintaining wards that should have been maintained by three bloodlines. Freya will see that immediately."

"How do you know?"

Because I know Freya, Aeliana thought but didn't say. Because I've seen the way she assesses other witches, the respect in her eyes when she recognizes real power. Because we spent six months talking about magic and history and the weight of being the one everyone expects to fix everything.

"Lucky guess," she said instead.

At 8:55, Aeliana found herself standing on the front steps of the boarding house, arms crossed, trying to look casual. Bonnie hovered nearby, pretending to check her phone. Behind them, through the windows, she could see the others gathering—Stefan, Damon, Jeremy. Elena still hadn't made an appearance.

A black SUV pulled up the drive at exactly nine o'clock, because Freya Mikaelson was nothing if not punctual.

The driver's side door opened, and Aeliana's breath caught despite her best efforts.

Freya looked exactly the same. Blonde hair pulled back in a practical braid, dressed in dark jeans and a leather jacket that probably cost more than most people's rent. Tall, confident, moving with the kind of grace that came from a thousand years of practice. But it was her eyes that got Aeliana—pale blue and far too knowing, seeing everything, seeing through everything.

Seeing through her.

"Aeliana," Freya said, and her voice was warm honey and smoke, familiar in a way that made Aeliana's magic respond like a tuning fork. "It's good to see you."

"Freya." Aeliana's voice came out steadier than she felt. "Thanks for coming."

"Of course." Freya's gaze held hers for a beat too long, saying things they couldn't say out loud. Then she turned to Bonnie, extending a hand. "You must be Bonnie Bennett. I've heard stories about your grandmother. She was remarkable."

Bonnie shook her hand, looking slightly starstruck. "Thank you. She mentioned you in her journals, actually. The work you did with ancient bindings."

"Your grandmother was a formidable witch. Her knowledge of protective magic was extraordinary." Freya's smile was genuine. "I'm sorry for your loss."

"Thank you." Bonnie's voice was soft, then she cleared her throat. "I brought some of her journals. Anything that might help."

"Perfect." Freya pulled a bag from the backseat of the SUV—a leather satchel that looked as old as she was. "Shall we get started? The sooner we assess the damage to the binding; the sooner we can determine how to fix it."

"We should wait for Elena," Bonnie said, glancing at the house.

"Elena can catch up," Aeliana said firmly. "We're on a schedule."

Freya's lips twitched. "Still as impatient as ever."

"Still as observant as ever."

Their eyes met again, and this time the look lasted long enough that Bonnie cleared her throat awkwardly.

"Right," Aeliana said, breaking the moment. "Cemetery. Let's go."

They piled into two cars—Freya's rental and Aeliana's, with Bonnie riding shotgun in the latter while the Salvatore brothers and Jeremy took Freya's vehicle. Aeliana tried not to think about what Damon might be saying to Freya, what questions he might be asking. Damon had a way of ferreting out information people didn't want to share.

"So," Bonnie said as they drove. "She seems nice."

"She's very knowledgeable."

"That's not what I said."

"I know what you said."

"Liana—"

"Bonnie, please. Can we focus on the apocalypse we're trying to prevent?"

Bonnie was quiet for a moment. "You two have met before. Haven't you?"

"She lives in New Orleans. I lived in New Orleans. It's a small supernatural community."

"That's not a denial."

"That's me saying we have bigger priorities right now than my personal history with anyone."

"Okay, but after we've saved the world—"

"After we've saved the world, I will buy you as much champagne as you can drink and answer any question you want. Deal?"

"Deal."

The cemetery looked different in the morning light—less ominous, more melancholy. But the magic in the air was thick, pressing against Aeliana's skin like humidity. Beside her, she felt Bonnie tense, feeling it too.

Freya got out of her vehicle and went completely still; head tilted like she was listening to something only she could hear. Her expression shifted from neutral to grave.

"It's worse than I thought," she said quietly. "The wards are barely holding. Another few days, maybe a week, and they'll collapse entirely."

"Can we fix them?" Bonnie asked.

"That depends on what's causing the deterioration." Freya started walking toward the witch burial ground, her stride purposeful. "The original binding was complex. Layered. It required blood from the founding families, sacrifice of power, and a physical anchor to tie everything together. If any of those elements have been compromised..."

She trailed off as they reached the old oak tree where Aeliana and Bonnie had investigated yesterday. Freya knelt, pressing her palm flat against the disturbed earth. Her eyes closed, and Aeliana felt the surge of power as Freya reached out with her magic, probing at the wards.

It was impressive. More than impressive. Freya's magic was vast, controlled, ancient in a way that made Aeliana's relatively young power feel like a candle next to a bonfire. But there was something else there too—something warm and familiar that Aeliana remembered from late nights in New Orleans, hands clasped across a ritual circle, magic flowing between them like conversation.

Freya's eyes snapped open, and she looked directly at Aeliana. "You've been feeding power into this binding. Both of you have."

"The Bennett and Gilbert lines have been maintaining it for generations," Bonnie confirmed.

"But you didn't know what you were maintaining."

"Not until yesterday."

Freya stood, brushing dirt from her jeans. "The anchor is missing. The physical object that tied the binding together—it's gone. Without it, the entire structure is unstable. You've been holding it together through sheer will and bloodline magic, but that's not sustainable."

"What was the anchor?" Aeliana asked.

"A talisman. Created from the blood and bone of the first sacrifice. It was supposed to be buried here, at the centre of the binding. But it's not." Freya's expression was grim. "Someone took it. Recently, I'd guess. Within the last few years."

"Who would take it?" Jeremy asked. "And why?"

"Someone who wants the Serpent free. Or someone who doesn't understand what they've taken." Freya turned in a slow circle, studying the cemetery. "The question is whether they still have it, or if it's been destroyed. If it's destroyed, we'll need to create a new anchor. If it's intact, we need to find it and return it before the binding collapses."

"And if we can't do either?" Stefan asked carefully.

"Then the Serpent breaks free, and we have a much bigger problem than a missing talisman."

A car door slammed in the parking area. Elena, finally making her appearance. She stalked toward them, Caroline trailing behind looking apologetic.

"Sorry we're late," Caroline said. "Elena needed—"

"I needed a moment to prepare myself for having a Mikaelson in my town," Elena cut in, her voice sharp. She stopped a few feet away from Freya, arms crossed. "Freya. I'd say it's nice to meet you, but let's not pretend this is a social call."

Freya's expression remained neutral, but Aeliana saw the flash of irritation in her eyes. "Elena Gilbert. I've heard quite a bit about you."

"I'm sure you have. Your family made quite an impression here."

"My family has made quite an impression everywhere. It's one of our less endearing qualities." Freya's tone was perfectly polite, perfectly controlled. "But I'm not here representing my family. I'm here as a witch, helping other witches with a problem that threatens everyone. If you have an issue with that, you're welcome to voice it now so we can move past it."

Elena's jaw tightened. "I just want to make sure we're clear on the terms. You help us with this Serpent thing, and then you leave. No involving your brothers, no drawing Klaus's attention to Mystic Falls, no complications."

"I have no intention of involving my siblings. This is a magical problem requiring a magical solution. Klaus has no interest in witch business, and I have no interest in creating drama where none needs to exist."

"Good. Because the last time your family was here—"

"Elena," Stefan said quietly. "Maybe we should focus on the current situation."

But Elena wasn't done. "The last time your family was here, people died. My friends died. Jeremy died or came close to it so many times I lost count. So, forgive me if I'm not thrilled about inviting another Mikaelson into our lives, even temporarily."

"Your concern is noted," Freya said, her voice cooling several degrees. "But as I said, I'm not my brothers. I'm not my sister. I'm a witch who's lived a thousand years and has seen more horrors than you can imagine. I don't create chaos for entertainment. I solve problems. And right now, you have a problem that requires my expertise. So, either accept my help with grace, or don't. But don't waste my time with grievances about my family when there's an ancient entity trying to break free and devour everyone in a hundred-mile radius."

The silence that followed was deafening.

Elena's face flushed. "I just think we need to be careful—"

"Careful," Aeliana repeated, her temper finally snapping. "Careful. Right. Because you're so good at being careful, Elena. Like when you were careful about thinking through consequences before burning down our house? Or careful about considering anyone's feelings besides your own?"

"Liana, that's not—"

"No, you know what? I'm done. I'm done with you making everything about your trauma, your pain, your experience. Yes, Klaus terrorized you. Yes, it was horrible. But Freya wasn't there for any of it. She was trapped by her aunt, used as a power source for a thousand years, and when she finally got free, she chose to help people. Chose to use her knowledge for good. And she came here, on short notice, to help us fix a problem that could kill thousands of people. The least you could do is show some basic respect."

"I'm just trying to protect—"

"You're trying to control. There's a difference." Aeliana stepped closer to Elena, her voice low and intense. "Not everything is about you, Elena. Not everything revolves around your trauma or your history with the Mikaelsons. This is bigger than that. This is about preventing an extinction-level event. So, either help or get out of the way, but stop acting like your pain is the only pain that matters."

Elena looked like she'd been slapped. Caroline put a tentative hand on her arm, but Elena shook her off.

"Fine," Elena said, her voice tight. "Fine. Do whatever you need to do. I'll be at the boarding house."

She turned and stalked away, Caroline hurrying after her with an apologetic glance back at the group.

The tension in the air was thick enough to choke on.

"Well," Damon said finally. "That was entertaining."

"Shut up, Damon," Stefan and Aeliana said in unison.

Freya was watching Aeliana with an expression that was hard to read—surprise, maybe. Or something else. Something that made heat crawl up Aeliana's neck.

"You didn't have to defend me," Freya said quietly.

"Yes, I did. She was being an ass."

"She's allowed to be wary of my family."

"She's not allowed to take it out on you. There's a difference." Aeliana turned back to the cemetery, to the wards, to anything that wasn't Freya's knowing gaze. "We should get back to work. You were saying something about the anchor?"

For a moment, she thought Freya might push, might say something about what had just happened, about the way Aeliana had jumped to her defence without hesitation. But then Freya just nodded and moved back to the oak tree.

"The anchor," she said, falling back into professional mode. "We need to find it or create a new one. Bonnie, do you have any of your grandmother's journals? Specifically, anything about the original binding ritual?"

"I have copies at my apartment. I can get them."

"Good. Aeliana, I'll need blood from both of you—the Bennett line and the Gilbert line. Not much, just enough to trace the connection to the original wards."

"Done."

They worked for the next two hours, Freya methodically examining every inch of the burial ground while Aeliana and Bonnie reinforced what they could of the failing wards. It was tedious, exhausting work, made harder by the constant press of the Serpent's hunger on the other side of the binding.

Jeremy and the Salvatore brothers kept watch, scanning for threats or curious humans who might wander too close. But mostly, Aeliana was aware of Freya—her presence, her magic, the way she moved through the cemetery like she owned it.

The way she occasionally glanced over at Aeliana when she thought no one was looking.

By noon, they'd done all they could without more information. Freya straightened, rolling her shoulders to work out the tension.

"We need those journals," she said. "And I need to do some research of my own. There might be references in my family's grimoires that could help."

"You brought them?" Bonnie asked.

"Some of them. The ones I thought might be relevant." Freya wiped sweat from her forehead, and Aeliana tried not to notice the way her shirt clung to her frame. "Is there somewhere we can work? Somewhere with space to spread out?"

"The boarding house has a library," Stefan offered. "You're welcome to use it."

"Perfect." Freya grabbed her bag. "Let's regroup there in an hour. Bonnie, bring everything you have. Aeliana, I'll need your help translating some of the older texts. Your grasp of ancient Norse was always better than mine."

Always. The word hung in the air between them, a reminder of long nights in New Orleans, of teaching each other languages dead for centuries, of conversations that lasted until dawn.

"Yeah," Aeliana said, her voice rough. "I can do that."

They drove back in the same configurations, but this time the silence in Aeliana's car felt different. Heavier.

"She likes you," Bonnie said finally.

"She doesn't like anyone. She tolerates them."

"She likes you," Bonnie repeated. "I saw the way she looked at you. Multiple times. That's not tolerance."

"She's grateful I stood up to Elena. That's all."

"Liana—"

"Bonnie, please. Let's just focus on the research, okay? Everything else can wait."

But as they pulled into the boarding house drive, as Aeliana watched Freya get out of her SUV with that easy confidence, she knew that everything else couldn't wait forever.

Eventually, they'd have to talk about what happened. About why she left. About what they'd almost had before Aeliana had run.

Eventually.

But not today.

Today, they had a world to save.

The library at the boarding house was impressive—floor to ceiling bookshelves, antique furniture, windows that let in golden afternoon light. Freya spread her materials across the large oak table while Bonnie fetched her grandmother's journals.

Aeliana stood by the window, watching Freya work, and tried to ignore the way her magic hummed in response to Freya's presence.

"You're staring," Freya said without looking up.

"I'm thinking."

"You're staring and thinking. I can multitask." Now Freya did look up, and her eyes held that knowing glint. "We will talk. You know that, right? Before I leave."

"I know."

"Good." Freya went back to her grimoire. "Just wanted to make sure we were clear."

They weren't clear about anything. But Aeliana nodded anyway and turned back to the window, where Mystic Falls stretched out innocent and unaware, and tried not to think about what that conversation might cost her.

Chapter Text

Aeliana spent the better part of an hour in her borrowed room, staring at old texts she'd pulled from the boarding house library and retaining absolutely nothing. The words blurred together, ancient Latin and Greek swimming across the pages without meaning. Her mind was elsewhere—on the cemetery, on the failing wards, on Freya Mikaelson sitting downstairs in the library with her thousand years of knowledge and her knowing eyes.

She'd told herself she could handle this. Told herself it was just business, just a supernatural crisis that required expertise. But seeing Freya again had cracked something open inside her chest, something she'd worked very hard to seal shut six months ago.

A burst of laughter drifted up from downstairs. Female voices—Bonnie and Freya. The sound of it made something uncomfortable twist in Aeliana's stomach. Not jealousy, exactly. Something closer to displacement. The feeling of being on the outside of something she used to be part of.

She set down the useless grimoire and headed downstairs, telling herself it was because she needed coffee. Not because she wanted to see what they were laughing about. Not because some irrational part of her brain was annoyed that Bonnie and Freya seemed to be getting along so well.

The library door was ajar, warm light spilling into the hallway. Aeliana paused outside, hand raised to knock and heard Bonnie's excited voice.

"—never seen notation like this before. Your family's grimoires are incredible."

"My aunt Dahlia was many things, most of them terrible, but she was meticulous about documentation." Freya's voice carried that warm tone she got when talking about magic, the one that used to make Aeliana's chest feel tight. "Here, look at this passage. See how she's layered the binding spell with a blood ward? It's brilliant, if ethically questionable."

"Most powerful magic is ethically questionable."

"Spoken like a true Bennett witch. Your grandmother would be proud."

More laughter. The sound of pages turning. The easy camaraderie of two witches nerding out over ancient texts.

Aeliana knocked, pushing the door open before waiting for a response.

The library looked different than it had earlier. Papers and journals covered every surface, creating an organized chaos that spoke of hours of work. Bonnie sat cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by her grandmother's journals, while Freya occupied the chair at the main table, three massive grimoires open in front of her. They both looked up at Aeliana's entrance, faces bright with discovery.

"Liana!" Bonnie's smile was genuine, excited. "You have to see this. Freya found a reference to a secondary binding that might explain why the wards have been deteriorating faster than they should."

"That's great," Aeliana said, and meant it. Mostly. "Making progress then."

"Significant progress." Freya's eyes tracked her as she moved into the room, that analytical gaze that always saw too much. "We've been cross-referencing your grandmother's journals with my family's grimoires. The overlap is fascinating. It appears the Bennett line has been maintaining wards that were originally created using Mikaelson magic."

"Specifically, Dahlia's magic," Bonnie added, gesturing to one of the ancient texts. "She was one of the original witches who helped bind the Serpent. Which explains why it's so complex—she was one of the most powerful witches who ever lived."

"Also, one of the most twisted," Freya said, her voice going hard. "But effective."

Aeliana moved closer, looking at the grimoire spread before Freya. The pages were old, the ink faded to brown, covered in tight script that was part Norse runes, part something older. She recognized some of it from her own studies, but much of it was beyond her.

"This is incredible work," she said, because it was true. Because she could appreciate the scholarship even while feeling oddly separate from it. "How much longer do you think you'll need?"

Freya's expression flickered—something like concern, maybe. Or disappointment. "A few more hours at least. We're close to understanding the full structure of the binding, but there are still gaps. Missing pieces that might be in your grandmother's other journals, Bonnie."

"I have more at home. I can go get them."

"That would be helpful."

"I'll come with you," Aeliana offered, needing an excuse to leave, to breathe, to not stand here feeling like an outsider in her own crisis.

"Actually," Freya said, and there was something careful in her tone. "I could use your help here, Aeliana. Some of these passages are in Old Norse, and your translation skills are better than mine."

"I'm sure you can manage."

"I'm sure I can too. But it would go faster with your help." Freya held her gaze, and there was a question there beneath the words. "Unless you're needed elsewhere?"

Aeliana wanted to make an excuse. Wanted to leave, to avoid this, to not sit in close proximity to Freya while they worked through ancient texts like they used to. But Bonnie was already gathering her things, and refusing would be obvious, and she was supposed to be professional about this.

"Fine," she said. "I'll stay."

"Great!" Bonnie stood, brushing dust from her jeans. "I'll be back in an hour. Two at most. Don't solve the entire apocalypse without me."

"We'll try to restrain ourselves," Freya said with a smile.

Bonnie left, and the silence that filled the library felt thick, heavy with things unsaid. Aeliana remained standing by the door, suddenly unsure where to position herself. Sitting next to Freya felt too intimate. Sitting across from her felt too confrontational. Standing was awkward but at least neutral.

"You can sit," Freya said, not looking up from her grimoire. "I don't bite. Well, not usually."

"That's not funny."

"It's a little funny." Now Freya did look up, and her expression was softer than it had been with Bonnie. More vulnerable. "You're angry with me."

"I'm not angry."

"You're something. Uncomfortable, at least. You've barely looked at me since we left the cemetery."

"I've been busy."

"You've been avoiding." Freya closed the grimoire carefully. "If this is too much, having me here, you can say so. I can send you my notes and leave. Let you and Bonnie handle the rest."

"That's not—" Aeliana stopped, frustrated with herself, with this situation, with the way her emotions were leaking through her carefully constructed walls. "I'm not uncomfortable because you're here. I'm uncomfortable because I don't know how to be around you anymore."

The admission hung in the air between them, more honest than Aeliana had intended to be.

Freya was quiet for a long moment. "That's fair. I don't really know how to be around you either. We didn't exactly part on clear terms."

"I left in the middle of the night. I'd say those were pretty clear terms."

"You left without an explanation. Without a conversation. Without giving me a chance to—" Freya stopped herself, shaking her head. "You're right. Not the time or place for this discussion."

"Freya—"

"It's fine, Aeliana. Really." But her voice was tight, controlled in a way that said it wasn't fine at all. "Let's focus on the work. That's why I'm here, after all. To help with the binding."

Aeliana finally moved to the table, taking the chair across from Freya rather than next to her. Close enough to work together, far enough to maintain some illusion of distance. She pulled one of the grimoires toward her, focusing on the Norse runes because they were easier to deal with than the hurt in Freya's eyes.

They worked in silence for a while, the only sounds the turning of pages and the occasional scratch of pen on paper as they made notes. It should have been comfortable—they'd worked like this countless times in New Orleans, falling into easy rhythm. But now there was a tension underlying everything, an awareness that made Aeliana hyperconscious of every movement, every breath.

"This passage here," Freya said eventually, pointing to a section of text. "Can you translate it? My Old Norse is rusty for the more archaic dialects."

Aeliana leaned in, studying the runes. Close enough now to catch Freya's scent—something that was cedar and sage and underneath it all, magic. The same combination that used to cling to Aeliana's clothes after their late nights in New Orleans, that she'd catch sometimes on her pillow and have to fight the urge to bury her face in.

"It's a warning," she said, her voice rougher than intended. "About the anchor. It says that without the physical talisman, the binding will eventually consume the bloodlines maintaining it. Using their life force as a replacement anchor until there's nothing left."

"Jesus." Freya pulled the grimoire closer, reading over the passage herself. "That's why Bonnie's been so exhausted. Why you felt drained after reinforcing the wards. The binding is literally feeding on you."

"How long do we have?"

"Weeks. Maybe less." Freya's jaw tightened. "We need to find that talisman. Or create a new one immediately."

"And if we can't?"

"Then the binding collapses, or you and Bonnie die trying to hold it together. Neither option is acceptable."

The matter-of-fact way she said it—the absolute refusal to accept either outcome—made something in Aeliana's chest ache. This was the Freya she remembered. The one who'd sit up all night researching solutions to impossible problems, who'd argue with fate itself if it meant protecting the people she cared about.

"We'll figure it out," Aeliana said quietly. "We always do."

"We." Freya's voice was soft. "I like the sound of that."

Their eyes met across the table, and for a moment, the walls between them felt thinner. More negotiable. Like maybe they could find their way back to something resembling friendship, or whatever they'd been building before Aeliana had run.

Freya's phone, lying face-up on the table beside her grimoire, suddenly lit up with an incoming text. The screen was visible from Aeliana's angle, and she caught the message before Freya could grab the phone.

Klaus: Don't abandon your family for some little witch tail, sister. We have family matters to discuss. Code word: Hope.

Aeliana's blood went cold. She must have made some sound, some reaction, because Freya snatched up the phone, her expression shifting to carefully blank.

"Sorry," Freya said, silencing the device and setting it face-down. "My brother has terrible timing."

"He called me witch tail." Aeliana's voice was flat, shocked. "Klaus Mikaelson just referred to me as witch tail."

"Klaus has no filter and even less tact. Ignore him."

"He knows about me. About—" Aeliana gestured vaguely between them. "Does your whole family know?"

"No. Just Klaus. He's annoyingly observant and has been giving me grief about it for months." Freya's jaw was tight. "I didn't tell him. He figured it out on his own when I spent three weeks asking everyone in the Quarter if they knew where you'd gone."

Three weeks. Freya had looked for her for three weeks.

"The code word," Aeliana said, pushing past that revelation because she couldn't process it right now. "Hope. That's a person, isn't it? Not just a word."

Freya's expression shuttered completely. "That's not your concern."

"If it's pulling you away from helping us—"

"It's not. It's family business. Nothing to do with this." But there was something in Freya's tone, something protective and worried that suggested it was very much something significant. "Klaus is just being dramatic. He does that."

"Freya—"

"Aeliana, please. I came here to help you. To help Bonnie. To prevent an apocalypse. Klaus's drama can wait until after we've saved your town." Freya stood abruptly, moving to the window, her back to Aeliana. "He just doesn't like when I prioritize other people's problems over family obligations."

"What kind of family obligations?"

"The kind I'm not at liberty to discuss." Freya's voice was firm, final. "It's complicated. Family politics. Nothing you need to worry about."

But Aeliana was worrying. Because Klaus didn't use code words for nothing. Because the name Hope, spoken with that much weight, suggested something more than just drama. Because Freya's entire body language had shifted from open to defensive in the span of seconds.

"Is your family in danger?" Aeliana asked quietly.

"My family is always in danger. We're Mikaelsons. It comes with the name." Freya turned back, and her smile was strained. "But this particular situation is under control. Or it will be, once I get back to New Orleans and deal with Klaus's paranoia."

"When do you need to leave?"

"Not until we've solved this. I told you—I'm here to help. Klaus can manage without me for a few days."

But Aeliana heard the uncertainty in her voice. The way she didn't quite meet Aeliana's eyes when she said it.

"Who's Hope?" Aeliana asked, because she couldn't help herself. Because the name had been capitalized in the text, important enough to be code, important enough to pull Freya away from here.

Freya's expression went carefully neutral. "Someone important to my family. Someone we protect."

"A child?"

The flash of surprise in Freya's eyes told Aeliana she'd guessed correctly.

"Freya, if there's a child in danger—"

"Hope is safe. She's always safe. We make sure of it." Freya's voice was fierce, protective in a way that spoke of deep love. "She's... complicated to explain. But she's not in immediate danger. Klaus is just being overprotective. As usual."

Aeliana wanted to push, to ask more questions. But the set of Freya's shoulders, the way her magic had pulled in tight around her like armour, suggested that line of questioning was closed.

"Okay," Aeliana said finally. "But if you need to leave—"

"I don't. Not yet." Freya moved back to the table, back to the grimoires, back to the work. "Let's focus on finding this talisman. The sooner we solve this, the sooner I can deal with Klaus and his dramatics."

They fell back into research, but the easy rhythm they'd briefly found was gone. Freya was distracted now, checking her phone every few minutes. And Aeliana couldn't stop thinking about that text, about Klaus's crude dismissal of her as "witch tail," about the mysterious Hope who was important enough to warrant code words and protective fierceness.

About the fact that Freya had searched for her for three weeks.

An hour passed. Then another. Bonnie returned with more journals, and the three of them spread out around the library, piecing together fragments of information about the binding, the talisman, the anchor that was slowly consuming Bonnie and Aeliana's life force in its absence.

Jeremy brought sandwiches that no one ate. Stefan checked in to see if they needed anything. Damon appeared once, took one look at the chaos of grimoires and journals, and disappeared with a muttered comment about leaving the witches to their witching.

But even as they worked, even as they made progress, Aeliana was aware of Freya's tension. The way she kept glancing at her phone. The way her magic felt restless, agitated, like it wanted to be somewhere else.

By late afternoon, they'd assembled a clearer picture of what they were facing. The talisman had been stolen approximately two years ago—around the time Klaus had left Mystic Falls for New Orleans, Bonnie noted. Someone had used a complex unlocking spell to access the burial site and remove the anchor without triggering the immediate collapse of the binding.

"They knew what they were doing," Freya said, studying the notes they'd compiled. "This level of magical sophistication isn't common. Whoever took it understood the binding's structure well enough to remove the anchor without causing instant catastrophe."

"Which means they're either trying to free the Serpent slowly—" Bonnie started.

"Or they took it for some other reason and don't fully understand what they have," Aeliana finished.

"We need to find out who took it," Freya said. "And we need to do it quickly. The binding won't hold much longer, even with you both feeding power into it."

"How do we track a two-year-old magical theft?" Jeremy asked from his position by the doorway, where he'd been listening for the past hour.

"Blood magic," Freya and Aeliana said simultaneously.

Their eyes met, and despite everything, Aeliana felt her lips twitch. They'd always been in sync like that, finishing each other's sentences when it came to magical solutions.

"Blood magic," Bonnie repeated. "Right. Because this situation wasn't dark enough already."

"The talisman was created with blood from the original sacrifice," Freya explained. "That blood leaves a magical signature that we can trace. It won't tell us exactly who took it, but it might tell us where it went."

"And then what?" Jeremy asked. "We knock on someone's door and ask nicely for our apocalypse-preventing talisman back?"

"More or less," Aeliana said. "Possibly with less asking nicely and more threatening."

"I knew there was a reason I liked you," Damon's voice came from the hallway. He appeared in the doorway, bourbon in hand. "Threatening people is much more effective than asking nicely."

"We're not threatening anyone," Stefan said, appearing behind his brother. "We're going to handle this diplomatically."

"You handle it diplomatically. I'll handle it effectively."

"Damon—"

"Relax, Stefan. I'm just here for the entertainment value. Watching three witches plot blood magic rituals is better than reality TV."

Freya's phone buzzed again. She glanced at it, and her expression tightened.

"I need to make a call," she said abruptly, standing. "Excuse me."

She left the library quickly; phone already raised to her ear. Aeliana watched her go, that uncomfortable feeling in her chest expanding.

"Everything okay?" Bonnie asked quietly.

"Family drama," Aeliana said, echoing Freya's earlier words. "Nothing to worry about."

But she was worried. Because Klaus had used a code word. Because Freya's entire demeanour had changed after reading that text. Because there was a child somewhere—Hope—who was important enough to pull Freya's attention even in the middle of preventing an apocalypse.

"We should start preparing for the tracking spell," Aeliana said, forcing herself to focus. "We'll need components. Black salt, graveyard dirt, something to represent blood—"

"We can get everything from the cemetery," Bonnie said. "Tonight, after dark. Less chance of being interrupted."

"Perfect."

They spent the next hour compiling a list of everything they'd need, planning the tracking spell, trying to anticipate complications. But part of Aeliana's attention was elsewhere, on the sound of Freya's voice drifting in from the hallway. Too quiet to make out words, but the tone was clear—frustrated, worried, defensive.

When Freya finally returned, her expression was carefully composed. Too carefully.

"Everything alright?" Aeliana asked, trying to sound casual.

"Fine. Family issues. Nothing that can't wait a few more days." But Freya's smile didn't reach her eyes. "What did I miss?"

They caught her up on the tracking spell plans, and Freya threw herself back into the work with focused intensity. But something had shifted. There was a distance now that hadn't been there before, a wall that Freya had deliberately put up.

By the time evening fell and they broke for dinner—another Caroline Forbes production that Aeliana barely tasted—she'd made a decision. She needed to know what was going on with Freya's family. Needed to know if there was danger that might pull Freya away before they'd finished here.

Needed to know if she should prepare for Freya to leave again.

After dinner, as they prepared to head to the cemetery for the tracking spell, Aeliana caught Freya alone in the hallway.

"Hey," she said quietly. "Whatever's going on with your family—with Hope—if you need to deal with it, you can go. We'll manage."

Freya turned, and for a moment, her carefully composed mask slipped. Aeliana saw exhaustion there, and worry, and something that looked like longing.

"I don't want to leave," Freya said softly. "I just got you back."

The words hit Aeliana square in the chest.

"You don't have me back," she said, but the protest was weak.

"Don't I?" Freya stepped closer, close enough that Aeliana could feel her magic, warm and familiar. "Because it feels like I might. Eventually. If you stop running long enough."

"Freya—"

"I know. Not the time. Not the place. We have an apocalypse to prevent." Freya's smile was sad, knowing. "But after? When this is done? We're having that conversation, Aeliana. Whether you want to or not."

She started to turn, but Aeliana's brain was working, connecting dots, and she couldn't stop the words from tumbling out.

"Wait. Hope. You said she's someone you protect. Someone important to the family. That you all protect." Aeliana's eyes widened as the pieces started clicking together. "But Mikaelsons don't just protect anyone. You're paranoid, insular, you trust maybe three people outside your immediate family. So, for Klaus to use a code word, for you to be this worried, she'd have to be family. Actual family."

"Aeliana—"

But Aeliana was on a roll now, pacing, her mind racing. "But that doesn't make sense. You're all vampires except you, and vampires can't procreate. That's basic supernatural law. Dead can't create life. And you never had children before Dahlia took you, you told me that. So, who could—" She stopped dead, spinning to face Freya. "Unless there's a loophole. A supernatural loophole in the vampire reproduction rules."

Freya's expression had gone carefully, dangerously blank.

"Klaus," Aeliana breathed. "Klaus isn't just an Original vampire. He's a hybrid. Werewolf and vampire. And werewolves can have children, werewolves are alive in a way vampires aren't, so if the werewolf side of him—" Her eyes went impossibly wide. "Oh my god. Klaus has a daughter."

The silence that followed was deafening.

"You can't—" Freya started, her voice tight.

"Klaus Mikaelson has a child. An actual child. Hope is Klaus's daughter." Aeliana felt like her brain was short-circuiting. "Holy shit. That's what you've all been protecting. That's why you're so worried. Because if anyone knew Klaus had a child—"

"They'd use her against him," Freya finished, her voice low and fierce. "They'd hurt her to hurt him. To hurt all of us. Which is why no one can know. Aeliana, I need you to swear—"

"I won't tell anyone," Aeliana said immediately. "I swear. I won't—Jesus, Freya, I wouldn't put a child in danger, especially not Klaus's child. He'd level cities for her."

"He would. He has." Freya's shoulders sagged slightly, relief and exhaustion warring on her face. "Hope is everything to us. To all of us. She's the best parts of Klaus; the parts he thought were dead. And she's just a little girl who deserves to grow up safe, without the weight of being a Mikaelson making her a target."

"How old is she?"

"That's not—" Freya stopped, studying Aeliana's face. "Five. She's five years old. And she's the most powerful thing any of us have ever encountered. Witch, werewolf, and vampire blood. The first of her kind. Which makes her incredibly dangerous and incredibly vulnerable."

"And you're her aunt," Aeliana said softly. "You protect her."

"With everything I have. We all do. Elijah, Rebekah, even Kol when he's not being insufferable. She's our Hope. Literally and figuratively." Freya stepped closer, her eyes intense. "I need you to understand how serious this is. If word got out that Klaus Mikaelson has a daughter—"

"Every enemy he's ever made would come for her. I get it. I won't say anything. Not to Bonnie, not to Elena, not to anyone." Aeliana held Freya's gaze. "Your secret's safe with me."

"Thank you." Freya's voice was quiet, sincere. "And for what it's worth... you figuring it out in about thirty seconds is both impressive and terrifying. Your mind is still as sharp as ever."

"It's not that impressive. The pieces were all there."

"Most people wouldn't have put them together. Or wouldn't have had the courage to say it out loud." Freya's hand moved like she wanted to reach out, touch Aeliana's arm, but stopped herself. "This is why I left New Orleans. Why I've been away more than Klaus likes. Because sometimes keeping Hope safe means dealing with threats before they reach her. Preventing problems instead of solving them after the fact."

"Is that what's happening now? A threat?"

"Klaus thinks so. He's probably overreacting, but with Hope, we don't take chances." Freya's smile was wry. "Which is why he's annoyed I'm here instead of there. But this—the Serpent, the binding—this is important too. And I told him I'd be back as soon as it's handled."

"If you need to go—"

"I need to stay," Freya said firmly. "We're close to solving this. Another day, maybe two, and we'll have the talisman located and the binding reinforced. Then I'll go back, deal with Klaus's paranoia, and make sure Hope is safe. In that order."

Aeliana nodded slowly. Understanding now why Freya had been so distracted, why that text from Klaus had rattled her so thoroughly. It wasn't just family drama. It was about protecting a child. Klaus's child. The hybrid's daughter who shouldn't exist but did.

"She's lucky to have you," Aeliana said quietly. "All of you protecting her."

"We're lucky to have her. She makes us better. Makes Klaus better, which I didn't think was possible." Freya's expression softened. "You'd like her. She's fierce and funny and too smart for her own good. Reminds me of someone else I know."

The comparison made Aeliana's chest tight. "I'm sure she's wonderful."

"She is." Freya's phone buzzed again, and she glanced at it with a sigh. "Klaus, checking in. Again. I should respond before he decides to drive here himself."

"That would be a disaster."

"Understatement of the century." Freya started typing a response, then looked up at Aeliana. "Thank you. For understanding. For keeping this to yourself. I know you have no reason to protect Mikaelson secrets, but—"

"It's not about protecting Mikaelsons. It's about protecting a child. There's a difference." Aeliana managed a small smile. "And maybe about protecting you too. A little."

Freya's expression did something complicated. "Aeliana—"

"We should go," Aeliana said quickly, before Freya could say something that would make this even more complicated. "The others are waiting. Cemetery. Tracking spell. Apocalypse prevention."

"Right. Yes." But Freya was smiling now, real and warm. "After, though. We're still having that conversation."

"After," Aeliana agreed, because there was no point in fighting it anymore.

They walked to the front door together, and if their hands brushed accidentally in the hallway, if that touch sent sparks of magic through both of them, well. That was just another thing they'd deal with.

After.

The others were waiting by the cars, and if anyone noticed the shift in energy between Aeliana and Freya, no one commented. They had a tracking spell to perform, a talisman to locate, and a primordial entity to keep contained.

But Aeliana couldn't stop thinking about a five-year-old girl in New Orleans. Klaus's daughter. Hope Mikaelson, the impossible child, who'd somehow become important enough that Freya would risk everything to keep her safe.

Who'd become the reason Klaus had called Aeliana "witch tail" with such disdain, seeing her as a distraction from family.

Who'd become, in a strange way, the reason Aeliana now understood Freya better than she ever had before.

Family was complicated. Especially Mikaelson family.

But love? That was simple.

And Freya loved that little girl enough to fight off apocalypses in other cities while Klaus stood guard at home.

Aeliana could respect that.

Chapter Text

The tracking spell had worked better than expected. By two in the morning, they'd narrowed down the talisman's location to an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of town—the kind of place that screamed "supernatural hideout" with its broken windows and general air of malevolence.

"We'll go tomorrow," Stefan had said, ever the voice of reason. "Get some rest, approach it fresh."

So, they'd returned to the boarding house, exhausted and covered in cemetery dirt. Aeliana had crashed immediately, not even bothering to shower, and fallen into a deep, dreamless sleep that felt earned.

She woke to her door opening at six AM.

"This better be an emergency," she mumbled into her pillow, not opening her eyes.

"It is."

Freya's voice, tight and controlled in a way that made Aeliana's eyes snap open. The older witch stood in the doorway, still in yesterday's clothes, her face pale in the early morning light. She looked like she hadn't slept at all.

"What's wrong?" Aeliana sat up immediately, exhaustion forgotten. "What happened?"

"Can I come in?"

"Of course."

Freya closed the door behind her and leaned against it, like she needed the support to stay upright. Her hands were shaking slightly—barely noticeable, but Aeliana had learned to read Freya's tells during their time together.

"Klaus called. Twenty minutes ago." Freya's voice was carefully measured, but Aeliana could hear the fear underneath. "There's been an incident. A witch in New Orleans—someone we thought was dealt with—she's made a move against Hope. Nothing direct yet, but Klaus intercepted communications. Plans. Specific, detailed plans about how to get to her."

Aeliana's stomach dropped. "How bad?"

"Bad enough that Klaus wants everyone home. Now. He's already pulled Elijah from his negotiations in Europe. Rebekah's flying back from wherever she was. He wants me on the next flight out."

"Then you should go."

"But the binding—"

"Freya." Aeliana stood, crossing to where Freya stood by the door. "A child is in danger. Your niece is in danger. That takes priority over everything else."

"The Serpent could break free. You and Bonnie are literally being drained trying to hold it—"

"Then we'll figure it out. We have the location of the talisman. We can retrieve it, reinforce the binding. You've given us everything we need." Aeliana kept her voice firm, certain, even though the thought of losing Freya's expertise made the task ahead seem more daunting. "You need to go. Family is what matters."

Freya's eyes were bright, and Aeliana realized with a start that the normally composed thousand-year-old witch was close to tears. "I don't want to leave you. Again. Not when we just—"

"You're not leaving me," Aeliana said, the words feeling slightly awkward in her mouth. "You're protecting a little girl who needs you. Hope needs her aunt right now. We'll still be here when you get back. The Serpent will probably still be here too, knowing our luck."

"Will you?" Freya's voice was quiet, loaded with something Aeliana couldn't quite identify. "Will you still be here? Or will you disappear again?"

The question felt heavier than it should, weighted with expectations Aeliana wasn't sure she could meet.

"I'll be here," Aeliana said, because it was true. She had a job to finish. "We still have a binding to complete, remember? Can't exactly leave that half-done."

Something flickered across Freya's face—disappointment, maybe? —but it was gone too quickly for Aeliana to be sure.

Before Aeliana could process it, Freya pulled her into a hug—sudden, fierce, desperate. Aeliana stiffened for a second, caught off guard by the intensity of it. She returned the embrace, but her arms felt awkward, uncertain of how tight to hold, where to put her hands. It felt like Freya was holding on to something Aeliana wasn't entirely sure she was offering.

"Thank you," Freya whispered into her hair, her breath warm against Aeliana's neck in a way that made Aeliana's skin prickle with discomfort she tried to ignore. "For understanding. For not making this harder than it already is."

"It's what anyone would do," Aeliana said, her voice slightly muffled. She pulled back gently, creating space between them. "You'd do the same for someone in my position."

Freya's hands lingered on Aeliana's shoulders for a moment too long before she seemed to realize and dropped them. "You're a good person, Aeliana. Better than you give yourself credit for."

"I'm really not," Aeliana said with a weak laugh, moving toward the window to put more distance between them. "I'm just practical. Hope needs you more than we do right now. Basic triage."

"It's more than that." Freya's voice was soft, almost tender in a way that made Aeliana's stomach twist uncomfortably.

Aeliana focused on the view outside—the boarding house grounds in early morning light, safe and neutral. "When do you need to leave?"

If Freya noticed the deflection, she didn't comment. "My flight's in three hours. I can pack and be at the airport in one." She ran a hand through her hair, visibly pulling herself together. "I'll leave you my notes. Everything I found about the binding, possible solutions if the talisman is damaged. Bonnie has my number if you need clarification on anything."

"We'll manage."

"I know you will. You're brilliant at this." Freya moved toward the door, then paused, her hand on the handle. "Aeliana... if we're still dealing with this threat when you're done here. When the Serpent is bound and Mystic Falls is safe. Would you—" She seemed to choose her words carefully. "Would you consider coming to New Orleans? To help us?"

Aeliana turned from the window, surprised. "You want me to help fight your family's battles?"

"I want you safe first," Freya said, and there was something in her eyes that made Aeliana look away. "But if you're willing, if you wanted to help... I know it's a lot to ask. Coming back to New Orleans, getting involved with Mikaelson drama, potentially putting yourself in danger—"

"I'd help," Aeliana cut in, because it was the right thing to do. Because a child was in danger. "If you need me, if Hope needs protection and an extra witch would make a difference, I'll come."

Freya's entire face lit up in a way that made Aeliana immediately want to clarify, to make sure Freya understood this was about professional obligation and protecting a kid, but the words stuck in her throat.

"You'd help the Mikaelsons. Willingly."

"I'd help protect a child," Aeliana corrected firmly. "And honestly? I've always wanted to see you guys up close in full protective family mode. The legendary Mikaelsons in action." She forced a grin, trying to lighten whatever intensity had crept into the conversation. "Plus—I've always found Kol a little attractive. Something about the accent and the homicidal tendencies. So, trying to save Hope with a little eye candy as motivation? That's basically a win-win."

The joke landed differently than she intended. Freya's expression shifted from that bright hopefulness to something complicated—surprised, almost hurt, before settling into forced amusement.

"Kol," Freya said, her voice carefully neutral.

"What? He's objectively attractive. In a dangerous, probably-going-to-murder-someone sort of way." Aeliana was babbling now, filling the awkward silence. "I mean, you can't deny the man has cheekbones that could cut glass."

"He's also my brother."

"A very attractive brother. Who I have no actual interest in pursuing, obviously, because that would be insane and also probably fatal, but you know. Nice to look at while we're all fighting supernatural threats."

"Right. Of course." Freya's smile didn't quite reach her eyes. "Eye candy. Very practical motivation."

"Exactly." Aeliana felt like she'd said something wrong but couldn't figure out what. "I'm just saying, if I'm going to risk my life fighting Mikaelson battles, might as well enjoy the view."

"Well, Kol will certainly be there." Freya opened the door. "I should pack. Get on the road."

"Yeah. Good idea."

Freya paused in the doorway. "Thank you. For offering to help. For understanding about Hope. For... being you."

The last part sounded sad in a way Aeliana couldn't interpret.

"Go save your family," Aeliana said, aiming for encouraging. "We'll handle things here. And then I'll come help you deal with whoever's dumb enough to threaten a Mikaelson kid."

"I'll hold you to that." Freya's smile was genuine now, if a bit melancholy. "Goodbye, Aeliana."

"Bye, Freya. Be safe."

The door closed softly, and Aeliana heard Freya's footsteps retreat down the hall. She flopped back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling, and tried to figure out why that entire conversation had felt so awkward.

Freya was clearly stressed about Hope. That explained the intensity, the hug, the almost desperate quality to some of her words. And Aeliana had agreed to help, which was good. The right thing to do.

So why did she feel like she'd somehow disappointed Freya without meaning to?

Her phone buzzed. A text from Freya.

Thank you again for understanding. For offering to help with Hope. It means more than you know. You've always been a good friend.

Friend. Right. That's what they were. Friends who'd spent six months in New Orleans learning magic together, who had easy conversations and compatible power. Friends.

Aeliana typed back.

Of course. That's what friends do. Go save your niece. Text when you land so I know you got there safe.

I will. And Aeliana? Be careful with the talisman retrieval. The Serpent is more dangerous than you think.

I'll be fine. I have Bonnie and the vampire brothers. What could go wrong?

That's not reassuring.

Good thing I don't need to reassure you. I need to save Mystic Falls while you save New Orleans. We're both professionals.

Right. Professionals.

There was something off about Freya's responses, something Aeliana couldn't quite put her finger on. But before she could analyse it further, another text came through.

My flight's boarding soon. I should go. Stay safe. And Aeliana? I'm glad we reconnected. Even if the circumstances aren't ideal.

Me too. Now go. Klaus is probably pacing a hole in the floor.

Klaus is always pacing. It's his cardio.

Then go pace with him. Family bonding through shared paranoia.

Very Mikaelson of you to suggest.

I'm learning. Now seriously, go.

Going. Talk soon.

The messages stopped. Freya was gone, heading back to her family, to protect Hope, to do what she did best.

And Aeliana was here, with a talisman to retrieve and a binding to reinforce and a nagging feeling that she'd somehow managed to hurt Freya without understanding how.

She pushed the thought aside. They had more important things to worry about than whatever weird tension had crept into their friendship. A child was in danger. An ancient entity was trying to break free. Personal feelings—whatever they were—could wait.

Aeliana got up, showered, dressed, and headed downstairs to face the day. She had work to do.

And maybe, eventually, she'd figure out why Freya's disappointment had felt like such a tangible thing in that room.

But not today.

Today, she had a world to save.

By noon, they'd assembled a team for the warehouse raid. Stefan and Damon, because vampires were useful in fights. Jeremy, because he insisted and Aeliana was too tired to argue. Bonnie, obviously. And Caroline, who'd shown up with a meticulously planned strategy that involved way too many color-coded contingency plans.

"This seems excessive," Aeliana said, looking at Caroline's three-page tactical document.

"Excessive is being unprepared," Caroline countered. "This is being thorough."

"This is being Caroline," Damon muttered, earning an elbow from Stefan.

Elena had opted to stay behind, claiming someone needed to coordinate from the boarding house. Aeliana suspected it was more about avoiding potential danger, but she kept that observation to herself.

The warehouse was exactly as depressing as the tracking spell had suggested—abandoned, covered in graffiti, smelling of mold and decay. The perfect place to hide a stolen magical artifact.

"I'll never understand why evil always chooses the most obvious locations," Bonnie muttered as they approached.

"Because subtlety is for people with imagination," Aeliana replied. "Most bad guys have the creative range of a brick."

They split up—vampires taking point, witches hanging back to handle magical threats, Jeremy serving as the human liaison nobody wanted but everyone had learned to accept.

The talisman was in the basement, because of course it was. Surrounded by protective wards that made Aeliana's teeth ache and her magic recoil.

"Whoever put these up knew what they were doing," Bonnie said, studying the symbols carved into the concrete floor.

"Can you break them?" Stefan asked.

"Given enough time and the right components, yes." Bonnie glanced at Aeliana. "This is going to take both of us. And it's going to hurt."

"Everything magical hurts," Aeliana said. "That's basically the job description."

They worked together, pooling their power, systematically dismantling the wards layer by layer. It was exhausting, painful work—like trying to untangle barbed wire with bare hands. But eventually, finally, the last ward fell.

The talisman sat in the centre of the circle—a small, unassuming object that thrummed with ancient power. Bone and blood and magic, preserved across centuries.

"That's it?" Jeremy asked. "That little thing is what's been keeping the Serpent contained?"

"Don't let the size fool you," Aeliana said, approaching carefully. "This thing is more powerful than anything in this room. Respect it."

She picked it up and immediately felt the connection—her bloodline recognizing the Gilbert magic woven into its creation. It was warm in her palm, almost alive, pulsing with purpose.

"We need to get this back to the cemetery," Bonnie said. "Reinstall it before the binding collapses completely."

They made it out of the warehouse without incident, which should have been the first warning that things were about to go sideways.

The attack came in the parking lot—three witches, appearing out of nowhere, magic crackling around them like electricity.

"Give us the talisman," the leader said, her voice cold. "And we might let you live."

"Hard pass," Aeliana said, tucking the talisman into her jacket. "Also, terrible negotiating strategy. Really should work on your threatening."

"Your choice."

The fight was brutal and fast. Magic against magic, with the vampires providing backup and Jeremy doing his best to not die. Aeliana and Bonnie worked in tandem, their powers complementing each other, but these witches were good. Trained. Prepared.

One of them got close—too close—and Aeliana felt magic wrap around her throat, choking, suffocating. She clawed at the invisible force, vision going dark at the edges.

Then Damon was there, snapping the witch's neck with casual efficiency, and Aeliana could breathe again.

"You're welcome," he said, already moving to the next threat.

"Didn't ask for help," Aeliana gasped.

"You're very welcome."

By the time the fight ended, all three attacking witches were dead or unconscious, and Aeliana's everything hurt. But they had the talisman. That was what mattered.

"Who were they?" Stefan asked, checking the bodies for identification.

"Covenant witches," Bonnie said grimly. "People who want the Serpent free. Who think they can control it."

"Idiots," Aeliana muttered, clutching her bruised throat.

They made it back to the cemetery without further incident. The reinstallation of the talisman was complex, requiring both Aeliana and Bonnie's blood, their power, and every ounce of concentration they had left.

But it worked.

The binding snapped back into place—not perfect, but stable. Strong enough to hold. The Serpent's presence faded, contained once more behind wards that would last another few centuries if maintained properly.

"We did it," Bonnie breathed, collapsing onto the grass.

"We did it," Aeliana agreed, joining her.

They lay there for a while, staring up at the sky, too exhausted to move.

"Freya left," Bonnie said eventually. "I got her text this morning. Family emergency?"

"Yeah. Something came up in New Orleans. She had to get back."

"Is everything okay? With her family?"

"It will be. They're Mikaelsons. They always manage." Aeliana kept her voice casual, not wanting to reveal more. Hope's existence wasn't her secret to share.

"You're going to go help them, aren't you?" Bonnie turned her head to look at Aeliana. "After this. You're going to New Orleans."

"If they need me. Maybe."

"You will." Bonnie was smiling, knowing. "She likes you, you know."

"We're friends."

"Right. Friends. Sure."

"Bonnie—"

"I'm just saying. The way she looks at you? That's not how friends look at each other."

Aeliana's stomach twisted uncomfortably. "You're imagining things."

"Am I?" But Bonnie didn't push. "Just... be careful, okay? With her. With yourself. I don't want you getting hurt."

"I'm not going to get hurt. We're just friends helping each other with magical crises. That's it."

"If you say so."

But as they drove back to the boarding house, as Aeliana checked her phone and saw three texts from Freya updating her on the situation in New Orleans, she couldn't shake Bonnie's words.

The way she looks at you.

Aeliana thought about the hug that morning. The intensity in Freya's voice. The disappointment when Aeliana had made that joke about Kol.

Oh no.

Oh no, no, no.

Freya liked her. As more than friends. And Aeliana had been too oblivious—or too deliberately ignorant—to see it.

And she didn't feel the same way.

Freya was brilliant, powerful, beautiful. Any sane person would be thrilled to have her attention. But Aeliana had never thought of her that way. Had enjoyed their friendship, their magical collaboration, their easy conversations. But romance? The thought made her feel nothing but uncomfortable.

"Fuck," she whispered.

"What?" Jeremy asked from the driver's seat.

"Nothing. Everything. I'm an idiot."

"Anything specific or just general?"

"Very specific. But I don't want to talk about it."

Jeremy, bless him, didn't push.

But Aeliana spent the rest of the drive trying to figure out how to tell a thousand-year-old witch that she'd completely misread their friendship.

This was going to be a disaster.

Chapter Text

Aeliana stared at the open duffel bag on her bed at three in the morning, wondering when exactly her life had become a series of increasingly complicated escapes.

The Serpent was bound. The talisman was back in place. Mystic Falls was safe. Her job here was done.

So why did leaving feel less like completion and more like cowardice?

She knew why. She just didn't want to think about it.

Freya's face kept appearing in her mind—that hopeful expression when Aeliana had agreed to come to New Orleans, the way her entire demeanour had lit up, the lingering touches and loaded words that Aeliana had been deliberately misinterpreting for months.

"Fuck," she muttered, shoving a shirt into the bag with more force than necessary.

She'd promised to help. Had told Freya she'd come to New Orleans if they needed her. And she would—she'd keep that promise because a child was involved and Aeliana wasn't enough of an asshole to let Hope stay in danger just because her aunt had inconvenient feelings.

But the thought of having that conversation, of looking Freya in the eye and explaining that she didn't feel the same way, that their friendship was just friendship and nothing more—

Her stomach churned.

"You're catastrophizing," she told herself, folding a pair of jeans. "Maybe Bonnie was wrong. Maybe Freya doesn't actually—"

But she did. Aeliana could see it now, looking back. Every lingering glance, every touch that lasted a beat too long, every time Freya had found an excuse to spend more time together in New Orleans. The way she'd searched for Aeliana for three weeks when she'd left.

That wasn't friendship. That was—

"Nope," Aeliana said aloud, cutting off that train of thought. "Not thinking about it. Packing. Leaving. Helping with Hope. Being professional. That's it."

She grabbed another shirt from the closet—one of the borrowed ones from Rebekah's collection that somehow fit perfectly. She should probably return it, but grand theft Mikaelson wardrobe felt like the least of her problems right now.

The plan was simple: leave early, before anyone woke up. Drive to New Orleans. Help deal with whatever witch was threatening Hope. Be completely professional and platonically helpful. Then come back to Mystic Falls and never speak of any of this again.

Perfect plan. Foolproof.

The door to her room opened.

"You're leaving."

Aeliana spun around to find Bonnie standing in the doorway, arms crossed, expression somewhere between disappointed and resigned.

"I'm not—" Aeliana started, then looked at the duffel bag, the open closet, the pile of clothes on the bed. "Okay, yes. I'm leaving."

"At three in the morning. Without saying goodbye." Bonnie stepped into the room, closing the door behind her. "That's very you."

"I was going to leave a note."

"A note. Wow. That's so much better than the last time you disappeared in the middle of the night." Bonnie moved to the bed, picking up one of Aeliana's shirts and folding it with aggressive precision. "What is it about New Orleans that makes you run away?"

"I'm not running away. I'm going to help. Like I promised."

"At three AM."

"The earlier I leave, the earlier I get there."

"Uh-huh." Bonnie folded another shirt. "And it has nothing to do with avoiding a conversation with Freya about her very obvious feelings for you?"

Aeliana's hands stilled on the pair of jeans she was folding. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Liana, I love you, but you're a terrible liar." Bonnie sat on the edge of the bed, looking up at her. "She likes you. You know she likes you. And you're running away because you don't feel the same way."

"I'm not—" Aeliana stopped, shoulders sagging. "Okay, fine. Yes. Maybe I'm slightly avoiding having to tell a thousand-year-old witch that I'm not interested in her romantically. Is that so wrong?"

"No. But running away without having the conversation isn't going to make it better."

"It might make it easier."

"For you, maybe. Not for her."

Aeliana dropped the jeans and moved to the window, staring out at the darkened grounds. "I don't want to hurt her, Bonnie. She's... she's been through enough. With her aunt, with her family, with everything. And she's a good person. A great person. Anyone would be lucky to—"

"But you're not interested."

"But I'm not interested," Aeliana confirmed quietly. "And I feel like an asshole about it because there's no good reason why I shouldn't be. She's brilliant, powerful, gorgeous. We have the same interests, the same sense of humour, we work well together magically. On paper, she's perfect."

"But?"

"But I don't feel that way about her. I tried—back in New Orleans, I tried to see if maybe I was just being oblivious, if maybe those feelings would develop. But they didn't. And when she'd touch my hand or stand too close or look at me with those eyes that were clearly hoping for something more, I just felt... uncomfortable. And guilty for feeling uncomfortable."

Bonnie was quiet for a moment. "Have you told her any of this?"

"How? 'Hey Freya, thanks for spending six months being an amazing friend and teacher, but by the way, I'm not into you romantically and never will be'? That's a fun conversation."

"It's a necessary one."

"Which is why I'm going to New Orleans. I'll help with Hope, keep things professional, and then when it's all over, I'll have the conversation. In person. Like an adult." Aeliana turned back to face Bonnie. "I'm not running away. I'm just... strategically postponing."

"That's literally what running away is."

"Strategically postponing sounds better."

Bonnie shook her head, but she was smiling slightly. "You're impossible."

"I'm practical. There's a child in danger. That takes priority over my personal drama about unrequited feelings that aren't even mine."

"And after? When Hope is safe and you can't use that as an excuse anymore?"

"Then I'll deal with it. I promise." Aeliana moved back to the bed, continuing to pack. "But right now, at three in the morning, I'm choosing to focus on the crisis I can solve rather than the emotional minefield I can't."

Bonnie sighed and started helping her fold clothes, her movements less aggressive now. "You really don't feel anything for her? Not even a little?"

"I care about her. As a friend. I respect her, admire her, enjoy spending time with her. But romantically?" Aeliana shook her head. "It's just not there, Bonnie. And I don't know how to make it be there, or if I even should try to make it be there, which honestly makes the whole thing worse."

"You shouldn't try to make it be there," Bonnie said firmly. "That's not how feelings work. You can't force yourself to want something you don't want."

"Logically, I know that. Emotionally, I feel like I'm disappointing her by not wanting what she clearly wants."

"That's not your responsibility. Her feelings aren't your fault."

"Doesn't make me feel less guilty about them."

They packed in silence for a while, Bonnie helping despite clearly thinking this was a terrible idea. Which, fair. It probably was a terrible idea. But it was the idea Aeliana was going with, so terrible or not, it was happening.

"Does Jeremy know you're leaving?" Bonnie asked eventually.

"Not yet. I was going to text him from the road."

"He's going to be upset."

"He'll understand. He usually does."

"And Elena?"

Aeliana snorted. "Elena will probably throw a party. One less person in 'her' boarding house."

"That's not fair. She's been trying."

"She burned down our house, Bonnie. I'm allowed to be bitter."

"You're allowed. Doesn't mean you should be." But Bonnie's tone was gentle, not judgmental. "She made a mistake. A huge, terrible, irreversible mistake. But she was grieving."

"So was I. I didn't commit arson."

"No, you just ran away to New Orleans for six years."

"That's different."

"Is it?" Bonnie paused, then added quietly, "And now you're running back there. To Freya."

Aeliana's hands stilled on the zipper of her duffel bag. "I'm going to help with a family emergency. That's not the same as running toward her."

"Isn't it though? You could call, offer advice from here. Send magical supplies. Do long-distance consulting." Bonnie's voice was gentle but pointed. "But instead, you're driving thirteen hours to be there in person. With her."

"Because a child is in danger and that requires hands-on help."

"I'm not arguing about helping the kid. I'm saying you're going to have to face Freya. Face her feelings. You can't avoid that conversation forever."

"I'm not avoiding it. I'm just... prioritizing the immediate crisis."

"You're running toward one problem to avoid dealing with another one." Bonnie stood, pulling Aeliana into a quick hug. "But I get it. Sometimes it's easier to face supernatural threats than emotional ones."

Aeliana zipped up the duffel bag with more force than necessary. "Can we not therapize my relationship with Elena at three in the morning? I have enough emotional complications to deal with."

"Fine. But you're having that conversation eventually too."

"Add it to the list." Aeliana grabbed her jacket from the chair. "Right after 'let down Freya gently' and 'figure out why I'm fundamentally incapable of staying in one place.'"

"You're not incapable of staying in one place. You stayed in New Orleans for six years."

"And then I left."

"Because you were running from Freya's feelings."

"I was running from a lot of things. Freya's feelings were just the catalyst." Aeliana slung the duffel bag over her shoulder. "Are you going to try to stop me?"

Bonnie studied her for a long moment. "No. Because you've clearly made up your mind, and trying to stop you would just make you more determined to leave. That's how you work."

"You know me too well."

"Someone has to." Bonnie stood, pulling Aeliana into a quick hug. "Be safe. Call me when you get there. And Liana? When you have that conversation with Freya—and you will have it—try to be kind. But be honest. She deserves honesty."

"I know." Aeliana returned the hug, holding on for a moment. "Thanks for not talking me out of this."

"I'm not sure I could if I tried." Bonnie pulled back, her expression serious. "But if you need backup—if things get dangerous with this witch threatening Hope—you call me. Immediately."

"I will."

"I mean it. Don't try to be a hero."

"When have I ever tried to be a hero?"

"Literally always. It's one of your more annoying qualities."

Aeliana grinned. "I'll take that as a compliment."

"It wasn't one."

They headed downstairs quietly, trying not to wake the house full of vampires and Elena. Aeliana left a note on the kitchen counter—brief, to the point, explaining she was going to New Orleans to help with the Mikaelson situation and would be back soon.

Jeremy deserved better than a note, but she'd call him from the road. After she'd put enough distance between herself and Mystic Falls that he couldn't try to come with her.

The rental car was still parked in the drive, packed and ready. Aeliana threw her duffel in the trunk and turned to find Bonnie watching her with that expression that meant she was about to say something profound and uncomfortable.

"Don't," Aeliana warned.

"I wasn't going to say anything."

"Yes, you were. You have your 'I'm about to drop wisdom' face on."

"I don't have a face."

"You absolutely have a face."

Bonnie's lips twitched. "Fine. I was just going to say that running away doesn't actually solve problems. It just postpones them. And eventually, you run out of places to run to."

"That's very poetic and also deeply unhelpful."

"It's true though."

"Doesn't make it helpful." Aeliana opened the car door. "I'm not running away. I'm going toward something. There's a difference."

"If you say so."

"I do say so."

"Then drive safe. Text me when you get there. And Liana?" Bonnie's expression softened. "You're allowed to not have feelings for someone. Even someone who has feelings for you. That doesn't make you a bad person."

"Intellectually, I know that."

"Now try to believe it emotionally."

"Working on it." Aeliana slid into the driver's seat. "Thanks, Bonnie. For understanding. For not making this harder than it already is."

"That's what friends do." Bonnie stepped back from the car. "Now go. Before someone wakes up and tries to stop you."

Aeliana didn't need to be told twice. She started the engine and pulled out of the drive, watching Bonnie's figure shrink in the rearview mirror until the boarding house disappeared from view entirely.

The drive from Mystic Falls to New Orleans was approximately thirteen hours. Thirteen hours to figure out what she was going to say to Freya. How to be helpful and professional without leading her on. How to protect Hope without making Freya think there was a chance for something more.

Thirteen hours to potentially come up with a plan that didn't end in heartbreak.

"No pressure," she muttered to herself, merging onto the highway.

Her phone buzzed. A text from Jeremy.

Bonnie just told me you left. Seriously? A note?

Aeliana grimaced and called him, putting it on speaker.

"Before you yell—" she started.

"I'm not going to yell," Jeremy interrupted. "I'm just disappointed. Which is worse."

"You sound like a dad."

"I'm your brother. I'm allowed to sound disappointed when you sneak out at three AM like a teenager."

"I left a note."

"A note that said 'Gone to New Orleans. Back soon.' That's not a note; that's a text message on paper."

"What did you want? A sonnet?"

"I wanted you to wake me up and say goodbye like a normal person."

Aeliana's chest tightened with guilt. "I'm sorry. I just... I needed to go. The Mikaelsons need help, and I promised Freya I'd come if things got bad."

"It's about more than that though, isn't it?"

Sometimes Aeliana forgot how perceptive her little brother was. "Maybe."

"Does this have to do with why you left New Orleans six months ago?"

"Maybe," she repeated.

Jeremy sighed. "You know you're going to have to deal with it eventually, right? Whatever you're running from?"

"Why does everyone keep saying I'm running? I'm helping. There's a child in danger."

"You can do both. Help and run. You're very talented that way."

"That's not fair."

"No, but it's accurate." His voice softened. "Just be careful, okay? The Mikaelsons are... a lot. Even the ones trying to be good are still dangerous."

"I know. I'll be fine."

"Text me when you get there. And Liana? Whatever happens with Freya—"

"How does everyone know about Freya?" Aeliana interrupted, exasperated.

"Because you're obvious. Also, Bonnie mentioned it."

"Bonnie needs to learn to keep things to herself."

"Bonnie cares about you. We all do. Which is why I'm saying—whatever happens, just be honest with her. She deserves that much."

"When did you become so wise?"

"Someone had to be the emotionally intelligent sibling."

Despite everything, Aeliana smiled. "Love you, Jer."

"Love you too. Now drive safe and try not to get killed by any Original vampires."

"That's my number one priority."

"It should be your only priority."

"I'll add it to the list."

They hung up, and Aeliana was alone with her thoughts and the open road and the slowly lightening sky.

By the time the sun rose, she was in Tennessee, fuelled by gas station coffee and existential dread. By noon, she was in Alabama, rehearsing conversations in her head that all sounded terrible.

Hey Freya, thanks for the romantic interest, but I'm not into you that way.

Too blunt.

I value our friendship so much, and I don't want to ruin it by pursuing something I'm not ready for.

Too vague and also a lie.

Look, you're great, but I don't feel the same way, and I think we should just focus on being friends.

Too casual for someone who'd been alive a thousand years.

"There's no good way to do this," she told the empty car. "I'm just going to have to rip off the Band-Aid and hope she doesn't turn me into a toad."

Could Freya turn people into toads? Probably. She was a thousand years old. She could probably do a lot of things.

"Focus on Hope," Aeliana reminded herself. "Help with Hope. Everything else is secondary."

Her phone rang. Freya's name on the screen.

Aeliana's stomach dropped. She considered not answering. But that was childish and would only make things worse.

"Hey," she answered, trying to sound casual.

"Aeliana." Freya's voice was surprised, pleased. "Where are you?"

"Alabama. About four hours out."

"You're—wait. You're driving here? Now?"

"You said you needed help. I finished with the Serpent yesterday. Figured I'd come sooner rather than later." Aeliana kept her tone light, professional. "Is that okay? Should I have called first?"

"No, it's—it's more than okay. I just didn't expect you so soon. I thought you'd want to rest, recover from the binding work." There was something warm in Freya's voice that made Aeliana's guilt intensify. "Klaus is going to be surprised. Pleasantly surprised, I think. We could use another witch."

"How's the situation? Is Hope safe?"

"For now. We've got her secured in the compound with enough protection spells to stop an army. But this witch—Genevieve, actually. Remember her?"

Aeliana's grip on the steering wheel tightened. "The Genevieve you studied with? The one I met when I first got to New Orleans?"

"The very same. Turns out she's been working with a faction that wants to use Hope's power for their own purposes. Take down the Mikaelson family, destabilize the supernatural hierarchy in New Orleans, the usual megalomaniac nonsense."

"Jesus. I thought you said she was trustworthy."

"I thought she was. Apparently, I was wrong." Freya's voice was tight with anger and betrayal. "She's been planning this for months. Maybe longer. And I—I trusted her. Brought her into our inner circle. I made it easier for her to get close to Hope."

"It's not your fault."

"It feels like my fault."

"Feelings aren't facts." Aeliana changed lanes, accelerating slightly. "You couldn't have known. And you stopped her before she could actually do anything, right?"

"We stopped her plans. But she's still out there, still a threat. And she knows too much about our defences, our patterns. Which is why having you here—" Freya paused. "I'm really glad you're coming, Aeliana. I know this isn't your fight, but—"

"A kid is involved. That makes it my fight." Aeliana kept her voice firm, leaving no room for misinterpretation. "I promised I'd help, and I keep my promises."

"You do. It's one of the things I—" Freya stopped herself. "One of the things I appreciate about you."

The moment stretched awkwardly. Aeliana scrambled for something to say that would redirect the conversation.

"So, on a scale of one to apocalyptic, how dangerous is this situation?"

"Probably a seven. Maybe an eight if Genevieve has allies we don't know about."

"Great. Love a good seven-to-eight level crisis. Really gets the blood pumping."

Freya laughed, and the tension broke. "Only you would describe potential death as getting the blood pumping."

"I'm an optimist. It's a flaw."

"It's not a flaw."

They talked for another twenty minutes about strategy, about the protections around Hope, about what Aeliana could expect when she arrived. Professional, tactical, safe.

But underneath it all, Aeliana could hear the warmth in Freya's voice. The hope. The assumption that this was more than just professional courtesy.

And she had no idea how to address it without making everything worse.

"I should let you go," Freya said eventually. "You need to focus on driving. But Aeliana? Thank you. For coming. For keeping your promise. It means everything."

"It's the right thing to do."

"Still. Thank you."

They hung up, and Aeliana was alone again with her thoughts and her guilt and the certain knowledge that she was about to break a thousand-year-old witch's heart.

"This is fine," she told herself. "Everything is fine. I'm just going to help save a kid, casually break Freya's heart, and then come back to Mystic Falls. Simple."

Nothing about this was simple.

But she'd made a promise. And she'd keep it.

Even if it meant having the most uncomfortable conversation of her life.

New Orleans was four hours away.

Aeliana drove faster.