• A tale of love, pain and hope •
Mikaela Lockwood is the younger sister of Tyler Lockwood, and a recently-turned Hybrid. After being turned by Klaus, she becomes sired to him, and kills dozens of people. Her family send her to the 1994 Prison World...
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Mikaela's POV
The last few weeks had been crazy. Kai and I had spent most of the time decorating the bedroom Max had chosen as his own, with multiple trips back and forth to Portland to move his furniture and favourite toys that he couldn't be without.
And the rest of the things in his room? They were all brand new in the hopes it would give him a fresh start.
It hadn't taken him long to settle in and get comfortable. For the first few nights, Max had suffered from nightmares, causing Kai and me to cuddle him back to sleep. It was only when Daisy began to stay in his room every night that Max finally relaxed.
Now the pair were inseparable.
So currenly it was mid-April and the morning of Jo and Alaric's wedding. Anna had kindly offered to have Max and to get him ready whilst Kai and I helped everyone out at the venue. The wedding was taking place at a large barn with beautiful surroundings, two small huts for the bridal party behind the building - boys in the one, girls in the other.
"Crap, they're not here!" Jo cried, pacing around the hut in search of something.
I looked up at the bride as I began filling glasses with champagne. "What's wrong?"
"My shoes!" Jo replied, freaking out. "My gorgeous, ridiculously expensive, wear-them-once-and-then-never-again shoes. They are missing."
Bonnie raised a brow as she fiddled with Jo's dress on a mannequin. "Do you want me to do a locator spell?"
Jo raised a brow, pausing in her footsteps. "On my shoes?"
Bonnie nodded. "Mhm."
Jo seemed to consider her offer for a moment. "Is that possible?"
Bonnie frowned. "I don't know, actually. Just hang on, I got to figure out how to work this stupid thing." She was helplessly trying to get the garment steamer to turn on before accidentally pulling the hose out, glancing at the bride nervously.
Alarm flashed across Jo's face as she heaved a frustrated sigh. "Oh, good, break it! Because my wrinkled dress will surely distract everyone from my bare feet."
I hid my giggles under my breath as I poured the orange juice into the glasses of champagne. I only found the situation hilarious because I understood how she felt - if this was my wedding day, I would've collapsed twice over already. In my eyes, Jo was doing great.
"Hey, hey. Come on," Elena said in an attempt to calm her down. "Don't waste all your panic now! You still have a few hours until the ceremony." Taking the drink I'd made specifically for the pregnant bride, Elena offered her the glass. "Non-alcoholic mimosa?"
Jo began to flap her hands. "One, a non-alcoholic mimosa is just an orange juice," she pointed out - I mean, she wasn't wrong. "And two, I can't drink. Somebody should drink. You should drink."
