Severed Heaven (Niklaus and Elijah Mikaelson)

Chapter Nine: Young Mind

          I had always known that hope was the most powerful force in life. Knowing that, I worried that there was no actual magic in it. Part of me hoped to get myself and Niklaus on the same page, but another part of me resented him, and would continuously swear to turn away each time he would call, but almost everything in me wished to know him again. And if there was no actual magic within my hope, I must learn to accept that.

I could try to hold it like a light inside of myself, hoping to make things happen the best way that they possibly could, almost like magic− but I didn't want to go there anymore...

I could not let myself rely on such a thing as hope even if I wanted to.

Sure, I could keep breaking all my rules to keep seeing him, to keep hoping, but I was bound to get hurt. Bound to settle for less.

What then again, what did I have to lose? My dignity?

Knowing exactly what to do to save exactly that, I stood waiting around a corner. Here in the heart of New Orleans, I would await my new measure of pride and dignity. That dignity that I knew I had to hold onto while I was here. So, I watched Marcel's friend inquiringly, just waiting for her to come this way, which the girl did. I prepared myself for a great act, cleared my throat, and turned the corner at the precise time.

I bumped into her. Timing.

"Oh− I'm sorry." I said, catching a brief glimpse of her stunned, but young face. Instantly, I grabbed the opportunity to fulfil Marcel's wish. She flashed a polite smile. Before she could say anything, I faked to recognise her. "Davina, right? I believe we have a mutual friend... Marcel?" The sound of his name brought her an instant feeling of safety.

She returned the same interest rather quickly, almost mirroring the look on my face. "That would be me."

Her hesitation urged me to keep talking. "I saw you leave his loft some time ago. He told me all about you− Harvest witch, current regent, wasn't it?" There was a saddened depth that appeared on her face because of the mention. I bit the inside of my cheek. Then, something in her eyes told me she must've realised who she was talking to, and her interest increased slightly. She nodded, but utter displeasure came with it. "I'm Elizabeth."

Davina inhaled nervously. "Elizabeth. Right." She said. "And− uh, I'm being considered as regent, or I'm considering... it's complicated."

It wasn't that she was sad. No, she didn't come off sad. Sadness had very little to do with it, really, considering that most would be flattered to be considered, and it certainly looked like her pride was thrilled. There were uneasy nerves. There was worry. For a second, I could've easily compared to my younger self, but didn't.

"You seem nervous." I felt guilty.

Davina nodded. The wrongness of this awesome nothing− becoming regent− seeped plenty from her. I could now see what Marcel had explained. She, indeed, was young. But some people, only a few, could see through that. Without being sure whether I was one of them, I dived head first into the pools of guidance and hopeless hope. So, when the young witch took a seat down on a nearby bench, I didn't hesitate to sit down with her.

"I am." She said truthfully, but it quickly became clear to me that she planned to deny that; every ounce of doubt and uncertainty. "But I need to do this. I can. Besides, I don't have much of a choice. I want to dispute death, Elizabeth."

I was wrong. I had expected her to be nothing like me, but she was everything like me. And because of the realisation, I worried for her. Because how had I turned out, you ask? I remained an immortal witch, pained and lonely, forever shadowing the dead's lost bits and pieces− though, powerful, but sad and lonesome. And that, I was certain, I would always be. Could I allow myself to let her slip into that same world? Let her carry endless responsibilities?