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DAD'S OPENING HIS ART EXHIBITTODAY. So, technically, I have to be with my Mom. But ever since the incident with the wooden knight, where I nearly burned my hands, the family unitedly decided a witch must be by my side at all times as protection. And to be honest, I didn't have any say in it. So, Freya has taken up the duty.
Mom and Dad didn't want me to live under the same roof as my grandfather, but Uncle Eli and Aunt Bekah had spoken them out of it after a long debate about their other duties.
Dad finally got a chance to introduce his art to the world after a thousand years, and they didn't want him to lose it after spending so much time on it for the past few weeks.
Mom, on the other hand, had quite a few problems on her hand as a mysterious company named Kingmaker has been buying the vacant land in the bayou to create golf courses and other condos. And my Mom was also recently informed about the werewolves hunts within a Pack two towns over, and as an Alpha, it was her duty to look after her Pack and give them support and strength in the times like this, requesting them not to panic.
Jackson and Aiden were looking for negotiating with the Kingmaker company, while Mom remained with Grandma Mary and looked over the Pack as their Queen. And, both Mom and Dad didn't think me being in the woods is the right thing at the current conditions.
I also couldn't go with Uncle Elijah because he is training the newbie vampires, some of those who have yet to gain full control over the blood lust. Aunt Rebekah, on the other hand, has to go to another town in search of a magical artifact that they believe will help a little in resurrecting Uncle Kol. And Cami, well, she is busy doing whatever it is Psychology majors do. Also, there was no way they would leave me with a human no matter how badass she is.
And so, begrudgingly, my parents left me in capable hands of Aunt Freya at her own house, which happens to be the very residence of their bitter and resentful Father and my Grand Father, Mikael. The Destroyer. Because, if worst comes to worst, he will assist in eliminating any threat that comes my way, at least for the sake of his darling daughter Freya.
"Alright, my lovely little niece. What do you want to do today?" Freya gushed after she placed me on the warm and soft baby bedspread, lying on the floor. "Do you want to hear another story?" She asked, taking out the baby books from the cute Hello-kitty backpack my Mom gave her before she left for work.
Reading stories had been a custom for Freya and me whenever she babysits me. Aunt Freya profoundly believes that reading is a wonderful relationship builder to strengthen the bond with a child. She supposes it will promote good communication between us and serves me to stay calm and build my attention span. And it encouraged her to do it more when I paid attention to the story instead of making a fuss like a typical baby.
Because Aunt Freya changed the story every day instead of repeating them. It also helped that I didn't remember most of them from my previous life. Due to this ritual of ours, I realized baby stories were not so bad.
The Story of Ferdinand.
That happened to be today's tale. Freya sat me on her lap and opened the colorful book in front of me to show the pictures.
"Once upon a time in Spain, there was a little bull, and his name is Ferdinand," She began in my ear softly, turning the pages as she went. "All the other little bulls he lived with would run and jump and butt their head together, but not Ferdinand. He liked to sit just quietly and smell the flowers."
So, basically, it was about a weird bull who would rather smell flowers than fight in bullfights. I haven't even heard of such a book until then, so I just sat there and listened to it without fidgeting like a normal baby with zero attention span. Freya was halfway through it when he came home.
"Father," Freya greeted him with a smile. She was such a daddy's girl, much like me in that department. And that was probably the thing that made me accept her as one of my own. Well, along with our mutual love and determination to keep all our family safe at all costs.
"What's the little beast doing here?" He sneered, looking down at me with contempt.
If I were to have a little more control over my magic, I would've smacked him in the face with my stuffed blue bunny. But unfortunately for me and fortunately for my Grand Father, I don't.
My magic reacts in accordance with my emotions. And every time I try to do something, as an attempt to pass my time, I just get a headache and want to sleep for very long hours. Maybe I was doing it wrong, or maybe, it just takes time. But no matter what it was, I never quit trying.
"Father, please," Freya sighed, adjusting me on her lap, and looked at Mikael with discontent and exhaustion. And, I really don't want to hear it personally to know that my Aunt probably had this discussion with him like a million times. "I thought we talked about this. No matter what you may believe, Hope is still your granddaughter. She carries your name. She is family, our legacy."
"No, she is not," He was quick to shoot down the mere idea of me being his family. "What she is, is an abomination of nature just like her bastard Father," Mikael spoke with disdain, causing me to glare at him.
It's not my Dad's fault that Esther decided to cheat on him. No child can choose in which family they should be born into. My Dad's innocent, and he never should be blamed or imposed against it.
"She is not an abomination," Freya said with a stern gaze. "She is the only thing that is keeping our family together. She gave our family a purpose and proves it every time that we are not so lost and damaged as we like to believe. Hope Andrea Mikaelson is an absolute angel."
"An angel," Mikael sneered. "This one?" He said, pointing at me. "Look at her. Look how that devil's spawn is glaring at me right now."
"Well, you are speaking ill about her and her Father," Freya explained. "And Hope is very intelligent to understand what everyone's saying." She paused for a moment before gazing at him coyly. "But, if you were to apologize to her and give a chocolate milkshake-"
"Absolutely not," Mikael said, leaning the room in such a tone that implied he would rather take a white oak bullet to his heart and die a second time by chocking on his own ashes than suck up to his 1-year-old bastard son's daughter he hates.
I didn't see a wink of him after that, even though I know he was still in the house somewhere. But, I figured it was not as bad as I expected our first meeting to go. I have made up my mind then as I added the first thing to my bucket list almost immediately.
