Merry Christmas, Clarke!

"Merry Christmas, Clarke"

It had been over a year since Hope Mikaelson graduated from The Salvatore School For the Young & Gifted. Graduation had been held on a beautiful spring day, bright and warm. Rebekah and Freya had helped her pick out what to wear, an A-line dress in powder blue—something "simple and classy," they had advised.

It was bittersweet, as all endings are.

Her family had come to witness the event. Her Aunts and Marcel made it a point to be there, beaming from the front row. She had shaken hands with Dr. Saltzman on stage, before giving him a warm hug after the ceremony. Later, she laughed with Lizzie and Josie about how uncomfortable Landon and Rafael looked in their suits, tugging irritably at their ties in the hot Virginia sun.

But when the day ended, she knew she'd be going home to New Orleans—at least for a little while. There was nothing keeping her in Mystic Falls. Not even Landon, which would have been inconceivable only a year earlier. They had broken up months ago—but it had been amicable. They had both realized that there was something missing; there was a fondness there, but it was a comfortable kind of love, not exactly the passionate romance she had always desired.

She laughed to herself, recalling the way she had once described their love as "epic." She supposed that at the time it was—at least under the circumstances. But Malivore was gone now. There were no more monsters coming to Mystic Falls and everything had been quiet.

She stepped outside into the chilly December air. She was out to take a walk around the French Quarter, a habit she had developed over the past few months. Being back in New Orleans was comforting, but she still felt a longing for something more—something that she couldn't place.

She approached a flower stand on the street corner, admiring the beautiful poinsettias and holly sprigs for sale. Freya had asked her to pick up some holly and mistletoe berries for a spell they had been practicing.

"Let's work on something seasonal!" she had said cheerfully.

It seemed Freya was always cheerful lately—she and Keelin had been doing so well, and it was clear that their son was the absolute light of her life.

It warmed Hope's heart to spend time with them, but even that was bittersweet. She missed her parents, she couldn't help it—and the holidays only made the feeling worse.

"Looking for anything special?" the vendor asked, smiling at her from behind the arrangement she was putting together.

"I'd like a few sprigs of holly, please," she said. "And do you have any mistletoe?"

"No mistletoe, I'm afraid," the old woman said. "So close to Christmas, all of the couples have been snapping it up for their holiday parties."

Hope's heart sunk; once again it seemed like everyone had someone but her.

"Sorry, dear," the woman said sympathetically. "You know what? Take the holly, Merry Christmas."

"You don't have to do that," Hope said quickly, reaching for her wallet.

"Please," the woman said insistently, "I want to."

Hope smiled, "Thank you," she said, taking the small bag of holly sprigs. "Merry Christmas."

The woman just smiled as she went back to working on her flower arrangement.

Hope didn't feel like going home, not yet. She kept walking down the street, admiring the glowing holiday lights that seemed to adorn every home and shop.