The French Quarter of New Orleans was a city of secrets. Beneath its vibrant exterior of music, drink, and dance, dark, ancient forces swirled, each vying for power, influence, or simply survival. Klaus Mikaelson, having faced betrayal, vengeance, and the ever-looming threat of his own family, still considered himself the undisputed king of the supernatural world. But tonight, something new was brewing in the shadows—something neither he nor Elijah had expected.
Faye Hart had returned.
Her presence was a whisper in the air before it became tangible. She had walked back into their lives with the same quiet, unholy power she'd left with centuries ago.
Klaus didn't need to see her to feel it—the sharp, biting sting of a memory that had never quite left him, like a scar that never fully healed. Faye Hart was no mere witch or vampire. She was something far older, something other. And her return was no coincidence.
Klaus was in the study, eyes trained on the French Quarter below, when Elijah entered, his face as inscrutable as ever but with a tense energy about him that was hard to ignore.
Elijah paused by the door, his gaze drifting toward his brother. "You've sensed it too, haven't you?" Elijah asked, his voice softer than usual.
Klaus turned from the window, meeting his brother's eyes with a look of quiet understanding. "I have. And I have no doubt it's her."
Elijah nodded. "Faye Hart."
The name had been a ghost in their past—whispers of an ancient power who had crossed their paths long ago. But there was more to Faye than just power. There were memories, buried deep under layers of time and bloodshed.
"She's here because of Hope," Klaus murmured, almost to himself. His eyes narrowed as he stared out into the night, his thoughts darkening with the implications. "She must've sensed the power when Hope was born. And if she's here, it's not just to check in. She's come for a reason."
Elijah's jaw tightened as he stepped closer. "I know what you're thinking. Faye's not here to make peace. She never was."
The room felt colder now, the air thick with history. It had been centuries since they had last seen Faye. She had been a part of their lives, a part of Elijah's life, for a time. The romance between them had been short-lived, but intense, marked by a bond that had cut deeper than any of them had wanted to admit.
Klaus, always the jealous and possessive brother, had never fully trusted Faye. She was too unpredictable, too powerful, and, above all, she had a knack for getting under Elijah's skin in a way no one else could. But for Elijah, it had been different. He had loved her once, and perhaps part of him still did, even after everything that had happened.
Klaus broke the silence. "She's here for Hope," he repeated, more to himself than to Elijah. "And if she's come to warn us, it's because she knows something we don't. Something about the power that child carries."
Elijah didn't reply immediately, his thoughts too tangled. Faye hadn't just left their lives because of Klaus. She had left because of him, because of Elijah's choice to always put his brother first, even when it meant losing her.
"We should speak with her," Elijah said finally, his voice low and heavy with the weight of their past. "She may be dangerous, but she has knowledge we might need."
Klaus's eyes hardened, but he nodded. "I won't trust her, Elijah. Not after everything that happened."
But Elijah wasn't so sure. His heart was divided—he had once been willing to give everything for Faye. He had trusted her, loved her, and even now, there was a part of him that could still feel the pull of that connection. But the years of betrayal had changed everything.
"I don't trust her either," Elijah said, his voice firm. "But we don't have a choice. Not with Hope's future at stake."
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