Maeve Mikaelson

Chapter Forty-Four

*Maeve Miller*

There was a metallic taste in her mouth that snapped her out of the darkness. It was a slap to the face in a perfectly peaceful state. A perfectly painful state.

She felt movement beneath her as her senses slowly recovered enough for her to function.

Blood coated most of her body, and she didn't even need to open her eyes to know that was a fact. 

She could hear panicked murmuring, and the hands that held her to a chest tightened. 

Her eyes flicked open and brown eyes met her green ones with relief. His mouth formed a question, but she was having trouble hearing it. 

She started wiggling, and he knelt down to the ground before setting her there, a reassuring hand on her back as she tried to get her bearings.

Marcel held out his wrist in question but she shook her head. She was likely going to die today, and she would never willingly become a vampire. 

She leaned over and attempted to control her breathing. Everything felt wrong, and her usually present magic was thrumming pitifully. 

The pounding in her head slowly dissipated and she breathed a sigh of relief when the ringing in her ears stopped. 

"Maeve." He rubbed her back. "We need to leave, Maeve." 

"No." She breathed out. "If we leave now, we've lost." 

"We've already lost, Maeve." Henrik spoke from his position, not bothering to look away from the entrance. "They're too strong, and right now, you're the priority. Nothing is more important than getting you out alive. Nik made me promise."  He looked back with a desperate look in his eye.

"You're wrong." She was cut off by a cough. 

Marcel's touch grew more urgent as blood hit the stone. "Maeve." His tone was urgent. 

"They're too strong." She took another deep breath. "But this is the only chance we'll get."

She shot out of bed and clenched her fist as she fought the ongoing panic attack. Ever since she saw Klaus, her dreams had been amping up. 

The vision she had in New Orleans had fled her mind almost as soon as she had it. Maeve had initially believed that it meant her distance from the family had changed her fate. It was naive thought that gave her hope. Hope she didn't need.

Her path hadn't changed, and Maeve was too busy to worry about fixing it right now. If she was destined to die then so be it, she'd burn that bridge when she came to it.

Instead, she focused on the file that was sitting on her desk. The file that belonged to one Shelia Bennett. Bonnie had let it slip previously that her grandmother had an interest in her, but Maeve never imagined that there would be anything like this. 

Apparently the woman had a less-than-healthy curiosity regarding Maeve's circumstances. It was honestly extremely creepy. 

The file included a large amount of research into the originals that Maeve bypassed quickly before landing on potential powers that she could have. 

Everything in the life and death section seemed pretty spot on, however, if she was reading it right, there was a chance she could actually dabble in necromancy with little difficulty. 

They would essentially be puppets with her pulling the strings, but the option was there. Even if Maeve felt dirty entertaining the idea. 

Life presented the options to grow anything, with or without seeds. Maeve had already experimented with some of the easier plants, before brushing the idea off. However, a little note in the margins in a handwriting that did not belong to Shelia Bennett made her pause.