Being the last witch of her kind, Lena Ricci has been protected by Rebekah Mikaelson her whole life.
And then one day, as the two are having the time of their lives in Paris, they catch wind of the news. Rebekah's half brother has knocked up some w...
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FOR the first time since Davina had told her, Lena let Rebekah in on the secret of the prophecy.
She had started off the day after Davina's death shutting everyone out, she wouldn't even talk to her best friend, she couldn't. She just lay in bed and she cried and she shouted at anyone who tried to come near her, and then she let Rebekah comfort her, and then she told her of the prophecy.
Lena knew she had made a mistake as soon as the prophecy came tumbling out of her cracked lips. Rebekah's eyes had widened, her face had paled even more and she looked as if she was about to instil the wrath of God on the witch.
"I told you never to tell anyone who you are!"
"I know but--"
"But nothing Lena! You can't go around telling people who you are, it'll get you in trouble! I thought I could trust you to keep it a secret, but as soon as one little witch opens up to you you start blabbering away like some senile grandmother!"
"But what if it's true? What if I am supposed to lead a united coven against some unknown force?"
Rebekah let out an annoyed sigh, running her fingers through her blonde waves as she perched on the end of Lena's bed. It was the first time since Davina's death that they had managed to get her to eat anything, to sit up, to even talk and there she was arguing with her best friend.
"You're not, now will you just forget about it! I have something I have to do."
Lena fell back against her pillows as Rebekah slammed the door shut behind her, gone in an annoyed flurry of blonde hair and black clothes. Lena's eyebrows furrowed but she couldn't stop herself from thinking about the prophecy, which forced her to think about Davina, and thinking about Davina ended in tears. Always.
"Hey," the door had been opened and there stood Marcel, bottle of scotch in hand. Lena had pushed herself to the end of the bed and was trying to shimmy into a pair of soft cotton pyjama shorts to wear while she mulled about the compound.
"Hi." She had never really talked to Marcel before. She had seen him, she had nodded in greeting, she had even smiled at him before, but they had never spoken. There he stood at her door, looking as full of grief as she felt.
"I'm headed to Rousseau's, you wanna come with?" Lena's eyebrows raised at Marcel. He was asking her to go to Rousseau's with him. Was this some sort of pity thing? Did he overhear her arguing with Rebekah? "I know that Davina meant as much to you as she meant to me, I think she'd want us to get to know each other better."
