Mrs Mikaelson

Chapter 66

Ferri non dolere means be still and feel pain according to Google Translate.

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It was something else to be able to stroll down the streets of the French Quarter with her children. Isa was pushing Hope in her pram as Marcel walked with his arm looped through his mother's, Christian walking diligently at their sides.

"You know, sometimes I find it hard to believe that you really built all this," Christian marvelled as they walked down a street in particular that was vibrant with life and colour and art and music as vendors sold trinkets and artists created art or musicians composed pieces.

"From the ground up," Isa remarked. "I remember when our boat first docked here after we'd fled from Europe and this city was nothing more than a small settlement town. Trust me when I tell you that there is no better tour guide in this entire city."

"I believe I could challenge that, Mom. It has been over a century since you've been home. Things have changed," Marcel pointed out as his mother grinned at him.

"Is that a challenge, Marcellus?"

"I don't know, Mom. Is it?" he teased back as she bumped his hip with hers before Hope was reaching in her pram for a woman who played the violin. It was an exquisite tune that was played expertly as the strings rubbed against each other and made Hope laugh. As the woman finished with an exaggerated flourish, she gave Hope a kind smile as Marcel dropped some change into her open case, saying a "Thank you," as the woman smiled at them before beginning to play again.

"Wait a second," Christian called when they'd taken only a few steps away from the violinist. "That song, what is it?" he wondered as he tried to discern where he'd heard it before. The woman was staring straight at them as she played and it was rather unnerving as Isa squeezed Marcel's arm and they continued walking. But with every step they took, Isa's sense of dread only grew.

Emerald green eyes landed on a chalkboard outside a cafe where a waiter was writing a message on the board. Opposed to a daily special or some favourite menu items, when the waiter moved away, the board read, 'A promise made is a debt to be paid.'

And this time Isa wasn't the only one whose eyes were swiveling all around them, scanning for a threat, searching for the dark-haired woman she'd seen in the memory that Freya had shown her when they first met, but seeing nothing. But what she did see was a man approaching her with something in his hand.

"Flowers, Miss," he said as he presented her with the blooms. "A gift for the child."

"No. We're fine, thank you," Christian spoke for them as Marcel urged his mother and sister forward as the busy street began to feel very, very small.

"Are you sure?" the man persisted. "Black Dahlias are in bloom."

The crippling fear that coursed through Isa was something she'd never felt before, not in this way, for she had never faced an adversary with Dahlia's reputation before, nor a witch that put Esther's puny vampire spell to shame. And somehow, the idea of her child being taken from her but still on this earth, doomed to never see her again was worse than the idea of her daughter dying. At least with death, her daughter was safe, she'd be at peace and Isa would know where she was. Her very sanity would crumble at the reality of being in the same world as her daughter but not being able to see her or touch her; those months she'd been gone had been painful enough.

Isa broke Hope free of the straps that held her in the pram, finding more security with her daughter in her arms as Marcel wrapped his arm tightly around them as they began to walk. But as they went, the man grabbed Marcel's shoulder, his eyes glowing pure white.
It was then that Nik seemed to materialise from thin air as he knocked the man's hand off Marcel and held him by the throat. "Keep your filthy hands off my family," he snarled as the veins under his eyes rippled. "Show yourself, witch!"