From a Cradle to a Grave

Chapter 3

Important! 

In this book, the de Martels and Lucien Castle never came to New Orleans, and the Hollow never appeared.

*****

Hayley's Pov

Klaus tucks a lock of my dark hair behind my ear. My eyes travel up to his face.

And simultaneously, both of us lean forward.

My lips brush lightly against his. And just as quickly, they pull away.

'My inflamed emotions must be messing with my head,' is what I think in explanation for my behavior.

"Are you hungry?" Klaus clears his throat akwardly.

I nod, and he helps me onto my feet. The two of us walk out into the courtyard of the Mikaelson Compound. I look around, and see that nothing has changed much. The only difference are the vines of ivy that are crawling up the walls of the building.

Klaus grabs a blood bag from the refrigerator, and pours its contents into two separate wine glasses.

"Today would have been her fourteenth birthday, you know," Klaus says.

I nod. "I know," I whisper softly.

"To Hope," he says, holding up his glass to clink it against mine.

"To Hope," I repeat.

I gulp down the blood quite quickly, seeing as I haven't fed for over two days now. I'm about to ask for a second glass, when an unfamiliar blonde woman walks into the kitchen.

"This must be the elusive Hayley Marshall I've been hearing so much about," the woman nods.

I frown, and look to Klaus curiously.

"Hayley, let me introduce you to Freya Mikaelson. My older sister," he says.

"Older sister?" I ask with a frown.

"Klaus only learned of my existence a decade ago. Courtesy of a crazy aunt of ours," Freya says, with a nod to Klaus. "It's a long story. One that involves Klaus trying to kill me during our first encounter."

Klaus rolls his eyes at these words.

"But now, I'm the only sibling he has left," Freya shrugs.

"So you really haven't talked to Elijah or Rebekah in fourteen years?" I ask Klaus.

"It's not like I haven't tried," he replies. "But unlike you, they weren't alone when they ran from New Orleans. Elijah and Rebekah each had a legion of witches by their sides, who were more than happy to provide them with unpenetrable cloaking spells."

I spend the next hour with Freya, who tells me the story about her aunt Dahlia.

"When I woke up from my one hundred year slumber, Dahlia did, too. She came to me and Klaus, demanding for us to give her the firstborn Mikaelson child. I told her that Esther had already killed Hope, but Dahlia continuously insisted that I was lying. She wreaked havoc on New Orleans, until finally, Klaus and I managed to kill her for good."

"Good old Mikaelson family drama, huh?" I say, with a half hearted smile.

Freya offers to take me on a tour of the city, and I accept. Ever since Marcel left New Orleans with Rebekah fourteen years ago, the vampire population in New Orleans has dwindled down to a very low percent. His absence has also led to the influx of witches in the community. Somehow, Davina Claire ended up as the Regent of the Nine Covens, and she's been maintaining a shaky alliance with the werewolves and the vampires ever since.

"What happened to Cami?" I ask, remembering the young therapist Klaus had taken an interest to during the months of my pregnancy.

"Like you and Klaus, she felt responsible for Hope's death. She left New Orleans the same night that you, Rebekah, and Elijah did," Freya replies.

So, counting myself, four people left the Crescent City on the day of Hope's death. Who knew that a newborn baby could cause so much change in the world?

What might the world have turned into, if Hope had lived? Surely it would be a happier place than it is now.

Despite the fact that I only held her in my arms for a few seconds, I can still remember the exact shade of her blue eyes. 

Imagine, those beautiful blue orbs lighting up the sky, illuminating the paths of everyone in the world.

She would have become a better, stronger version of me and Klaus. She would have become a hero to all those in need of a little hope in their lives.

*****

Evening comes faster than I expect it to. Freya and I return to the Compound, where a small yet extravagant dinner has been prepared for us.

"What's this?" I ask with a small smile.

"Consider it a 'thank you', for not ripping my head off when you had the chance," Klaus replies, as he walks up to the two of us.

"Maybe I was just biding my time," I shrug.

I sit down on one of the chairs, and place a piece of gourmet stake into my mouth. It instantly melts when it touches my tongue, and I have to admit that it feels nice to eat something without having to constantly look behind my back for signs of danger.

The sun sets in the sky above us as we continue to eat. I've just finished draining the last of my wine, when it happens.

Freya suddenly falls off her chair, and begins to writhe on the floor. Both Klaus and I abruptly stand up to make sure that she's all right. Freya clutches at her hair, as a low moan escapes her lips. I'm about to ask her what's happening, when I feel it, too.

It's a strange sensation that starts at the tips of my fingers, and gradually makes its way into my chest. I've felt this before, only once, on the first full moon after I triggered my curse. 

Everything seems so unfamiliar and foreign to me.

I stare at Klaus, and can see that he is feeling it, too. What is this queer force that has overtaken our bodies?

"Take my hands," Freya gasps all of a sudden.

I frown, and hesitantly grab Freya's left hand. Klaus does the same with her right. Freya's chest violently lurches upwards, and suddenly, we're sucked into a vision.

It's the middle of the night. The full moon has reached its peak in the sky above us. The vicious howl of a wolf is heard.

We're standing in the clearing of a forest, where four injured students lay prostrate on the ground. One of them, a red haired girl, pushes herself into a sitting position.

She gasps when her eyes flash a golden color. She looks around in confusion, before a shout of pain escapes her lips. Her arm is pulled back violently, and all of the bones in her body begin to break.

This girl, whoever she is, is undergoing her first transition into a werewolf.

Her screams begin to wake the other three students who surround her. Through the pain, an expression of fear makes itself visible on the girl's face. She drags herself into a deeper part of the forest, away from her friends' views. There, she completes her transformation.

In the place of where the young girl was before, is a beautiful light grey wolf.

I stare at the bundle of clothes that lay beneath the wolf's paws. They seem to be a school uniform of some sort. But that isn't what catches my attention.

"Oh my god," I say in a shaky breath, as I stare at the silver pendant necklace that has been tossed a few feet away from the clothes. Engraved on the pendant is a single letter whose design is extremely familiar to me.

'M'.