2AAN: Hi, Peeps! Here's an update (I'll try to write one chapter every two weeks, but I don't promise it will always be possible)! You'll find that I will be writing one chapter for one episode. Of course, not every episode will appear in here and you might find chapters that don't belong to any episodes of the series.
Anyway, I dedicate this first chapter to Jenna West21, XxOriginalDireWolfHybridxX, katkar, pmann1, Charmed2100, and militato123. Thank you for taking a chance on that by Following and/or Favoriting (I know it's not a word, so what?)!
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters that you recognize and the plot that you know so well. I, however, own every OC, their stories and the sub-plot (that you did not see in the series… duh)!
Enjoy the read!
Chapitre 1: Pour Toujours et à Jamais
My beloved mother raised me on her own. She had been a very loving and patient parent who spent her days playing with me –when she was not working and healing people –and her nights telling me tales of fairies, witches, vampires, and demons. I basically had the luxury of a happy childhood filled with laughter and giggles.
My father's absence did not bother me in any way, since my mother made sure I grew up with the knowledge that he loved me and had been quite thrilled with my birth –he was the one that had named me, after all. From what she had once told me, my father couldn't leave his homeland, otherwise, everything as we knew it would be destroyed. I respected that, though I did not really understand what she had meant, back then.
Despite being young, people often told me that I was wise beyond my years, much like my mother. That, however, did not prevent me from being innocent and blissfully naïve. If I hadn't kept seeing only the good in people and denying their darker sides than perhaps I wouldn't have trusted the wrong persons and my mother wouldn't have met an untimely end.
Even up to this day, my heart fills with guilt for her sudden death. You see, ever since I was a toddler, I was gifted –or cursed –with three very strange abilities. As a child, I didn't know how I came upon them and I never questioned it. It seemed natural, at that time. It took the end of my mother's life for me to stumble upon her secrets and learn the truth about who I was and what I was.
Anyway, one of these gifts was the one of the "Pythia Sangue". Basically, like the legend of the Pythia –or Oracle of Delphi –I was able to tell prophecies. However, this only happens when I injure myself deep enough to spill an ample amount of blood –though I usually don't remember them. Often, I'd sense a tingle and an urge to cut myself. Once I did cut through my skin, I felt a thrill –some kind of pleasure –build up, and I could only find relief in telling the prophecy, out loud. However, if I tried to stop myself from telling it, I suffered an unmeasurable amount of pain that would only stop once the prophecy was told. The deeper the wound, the more detailed the prophecy. However, I could not control the timing of the prophecies and my mother had, repeatedly and strongly warned me against forcing them out, as I might end up cutting myself too deep and bleed out. Also, I could never tell something that would directly happen to me. I could, however, predict events that could influence my surroundings and, by deduction how they were likely going to affect my future. For example, I cannot say when or how I will die, but let's say that I was walking in an alley and I foretold that a bomb would go off in that alley, thus causing a lot of victims, then, by doing so, I unknowingly revealed how I would most likely die.
But even in by doing this, it is complicated to understand and be one hundred percent sure about the meaning of a Prophecy since they can be filled with symbolism.
The second strange skill I had was the one I called "Les Clochettes de la mort" or "Death's bells". As the name implies, I hear bells before someone dies. There are three bells. I start hearing the first jingle one week before the death of someone I've seen that very same day. I never know who it is: it can be a stranger I crossed on the streets. The second rings four days before the day of the death. I hear the third and final bell sound three hours before the person dies and, the moment they draw their final breath, I scream.
My other ability was the one that allowed me to see what I –later –found out was called "Auras". To put it simply, I can see people's auras and according to their colors, I can tell what they feel, if someone they have a strong bond with is near, I can see the bond in the shape of a thread. The thicker the thread, the deeper the bound. Sometimes, I can see when two people belong together or when they do not tell the truth, but not always.
So now you understand the guilt I feel. I should have seen death coming for my mother. I should have been able to prevent it. But I didn't.
Instead, I watched as everything I loved burned down into ashes.
New Orleans -21st century-
Music was blasting through the crowded streets of the crescent city. The bright and colorful lightings, though milder than in the city of Lights, showed tourists just how lively it was, even under the darkest skies.
Elijah Mikaelson was seating at a local bar called Rousseau's, patiently waiting for the glass of Vodka he had ordered less than five minutes prior. His younger maternal half-brother had asked him to come and join him back to the city they had once helped build and unify. He had mentioned something about a witch –Jane-Anne Deveraux –conspiring against him, but otherwise, Elijah had not been privy to the details on the matter. Nonetheless, it had become clear to Elijah that his brother was a bit in a bind. And, despite all his flows –Klaus was, after all a temperamental, ill-mannered being with major father issues –he was still blood –no matter how much Mikael liked to deny it –and, Elijah would always want to see his blood find peace and happiness. He would stick at his siblings' side, despite all the deceit and lies.
Forever and always, that was the Mikaelsons' vow.
The barmaid –Camille, her pin revealed –asked him what his business in town was, as she put his order down on a spotless and white napkin.
Casually, he answered her curiosity enough that she would be willing to answer his questions, without revealing anything that might tell her what he was, of course. The blond seemed delightfully nice, but what pleased Elijah beyond anything else, was that the naïve creature was playing right into his hands. That was good because he was not willing to come out of the place empty-handed. The Mikaelson had not chosen to indulge in some vodka in a crowded and popular local bar by accident, after all.
After spending his whole day and the better part of the night unsuccessfully hunting for his brother, he had stumbled upon an interesting bit of information: the Deveraux witch was working in that bar. Unfortunately for him, the barmaid did not know where her coworker currently was. She, however, gave him two names. One Sabine Laurent –a woman who was currently working as a tour guide in the French Quarter –and a certain Désirée Goodfellow –a tattoo artist, who seemed to know nearly every story surrounding the Crescent city and its locals. Camille kindly told him that Miss Goodfellow often did retrieval jobs, such as finding information, objects and even people for others. The blond also graciously told him to mention her, if he was to see the tattoo artist, seeing as they were good friends and she would most definitely be more susceptible to listen to him.
After having thanked the young woman and paid for his glass –which he finished quite fast –he rushed to the French Quarters, hoping to find the woman Camille had first mentioned: Miss Sabine Laurent.
It didn't take long for him to find the dark-skinned tour guide and follow her around, as she told stories about witches, demons, and vampires that supposedly lived in the city. Once at the end of her tour, she pushed her clients to go into a voodoo shop and see if they found anything to their liking.
That was when she startled the old vampire, as she turned around and called him by his given name. Elijah was careful to keep his cool, always standing straight with one hand in his pocket and the other one hanging at his side, his smirk never leaving his face. He attentively looked at the woman. She was definitely not an acquaintance of his –not past, nor present. However, she had some very familiar gimmicks, but he couldn't pinpoint who they reminded him of.
The woman –whom he was starting to believe was a witch –startled him a second time by revealing the recent death of the witch he and his brother were looking for. This time, it was much harder to keep the confusion he felt from his face. In what seemed to be understanding, the witch had him follow her to the sister of Jane-Anne: Sophie Deveraux.
They found the young woman mourning while holding her sister's cold and bloodied body, surrounded by witches and candle lights. It didn't take a genius to understand that this was a public execution, an example. Elijah feared that his brother was the one that killed the witch he suspected of conspiring against him. But, as soon as he voiced his concern, Sabine put them to rest and explained to him that Jane-Anne was caught using magic, which confused the vampire, even more, seeing that the whole purpose of Witches was to do magic. And for the third time that evening, he was shocked to learn that Marcel, the young man who once claimed to love his sister Rebekah and whom Klaus cared for as a son, was still alive and kicking.
Things were worse than what he had first anticipated.
Way worse, he thought as he watched from a balcony Marcel –self-proclaimed king of the New Orleans' Vampires – order his followers to take the dead witch's body away until Sophie remembered why Klaus was back to town asking for Jane-Anne. Yup, the younger vampire seemed to have lost his wits. That was bad. He had to call Bekah and inform her of all the events that have been happening, without their knowledge.
But nothing could prepare him for what he would find out soon after, or for the frustration, he'd feel once Klaus decided that his baby and his baby mama were not worth fighting for. One thing was sure, Elijah needed to find where Marcel was currently residing. He also suspected that Marcel was using some sort of weapon. He needed to figure out what and where it was, and do it fast. Therefore, he had to find someone that knew New Orleans and its people like no one else. Luckily for him, Camille had gifted him with the name of the person for the job: Désirée Goodfellow. He just needed to find the lass.
I was seating, cross-legged on my dark armchair, at my desk table. My office was located on the parlor's second floor, between my tattoo room and Merryn's. While I was sipping a warm tea, I went through the list of appointments I'd be having the following day. I also made sure that I had all the designs, each of my clients wished to have inked on their skins, ready. I was almost done when I heard the faint sound of bells. I glanced at the clock above my door: It was just past twelve A.M. We were more than definitely closed. Curious, I listened to the muffled voices downstairs and heard Chloe –the parlor's secretary and technician –tell whoever came in that they should learn to read, seeing how big and lighted our closed sign was, her voice was as strong as ever.
Chloe was a dark haired, fair skinned petite woman. She had dark and almond shaped eyes and thin pink lips. She had a tiny waist and a small chest. She looked every bit the Japanese girl that she was. She was the most responsible and organized of the group. It took a special breed of person to make her as snippy as she was. The person downstairs must have been either someone she despised or they just stumbled here at the wrong time. In any case, if they didn't leave soon, I'd have to hide yet another body.
"I am truly sorry, but I am looking for the owner of this parlor, Miss… Désirée Goodfellow, I believe her name is." The intruder explained. The smirk I had previously worn was suddenly gone. This silky voice was horrifyingly familiar. I kept telling myself that it was impossible. After all, the traitorous vampire that this voice reminded me of –this vampire that I had once loved –had left me behind to burn. Worse, he had precipitated my mother's doom. In any case, last I checked, he and his siblings had fled New Orleans a century ago, so it couldn't be him. Then again, rumors have been going around that Klaus Mikaelson was back.
I wanted to get up and check, but at the same time, I feared that what I would see would confirm my suspicions.
Curiosity killed the cat, I heard my beast whisper.
Satisfaction revived it, I countered.
I let curiosity get the better of me and slowly rose from the comfort of my seat, before walking to the one-sided window –every window in this parlor was one-sided: we could see out, but no one could see in. Privacy was very important to my clients, especially those from the supernatural community –and imagine my surprise when I saw Elijah Mikaelson standing in front of Chloe's desk, looking as relaxed as ever. Of course, I knew that this was a façade. If I looked carefully, I could see him being surrounded by a thin layer of pale blue mist –fear, I realized –that was being swallowed by a thick dark red cloud, revealing to me just how angry he truly felt.
"Yes, well she is busy and so am I. She can see you next Thursday at five P.M." Chloe told him as she looked into my schedule. Though there was still some ice left in her voice, she sounded more like the professional that she was and as bored as I knew she felt.
"But, this is in five days. Her help is needed right now, I'm afraid." Why the fuck did he want my help, I wondered, most likely looking as confused as I felt.
"Yes, well, that won't be possible, Chum. Come back when you have an appointment arranged with her." Chloe stated before closing her agenda. She stood and walked around her desk, to stand in front Elijah.
"I am…" Elijah started to argue.
"Elijah Mikaelson, a natural charmer and a manipulator. You always maintain the illusion of perfect manners. Basically, you are one of the Originals, the one with an OCD complex, nearly as bad as the one little Chloe over there has. At least, that's what I heard." Another voice cut in. This one was filled with confidence. Madisyn, I recognized, even before she walked out of her office –which was located right below mine.
Madi was one of our two professional piercers. If you were to look up for the definition of perfect in a dictionary, you'd find her picture right beside it. Madisyn was a tall woman with a lean body, a perfectly tanned skin, a nice rounded butt and chest, long legs, a perfect heart-shaped face with constantly flushed cheeks, light blue eyes, long, wavy dark blond hair, and full red lips. She was every man's fantasy and she knew it. It also annoyed her as hell to have drooling, brainless males constantly following her around with hungry eyes. In a time like the twenty-first century, when everyone is judged by their looks rather than their brains and hearts, people easily underestimated her, and she did not hesitate to pry on that weakness of theirs. That also meant that she was very good at perceiving the true nature of people. She also knew how to coax others into revealing their deepest desires –even the ones they didn't know existed –but this was a skill that she shared with the rest of her people.
I watched as she looked directly into Elijah's eyes. The atmosphere in the parlor became heavier by the second. It was a battle of dominance. We all knew it. Sure, the Vampire was old and powerful, there was no denying it, but, like many others before him, he was underestimating the woman standing in front of him.
What was unnerving, though, was that cocky smirk of his that never left his face. His gaze never wavering away from Madi's. That is until Knox, our bouncer came in from the back of the parlor.
To tell the truth, he was more like a bodyguard sent directly from my father, to make sure I didn't get myself into too much trouble. My old man hasn't known me for long, but he sure as fuck discerned my personality and my unhealthy habit of attracting trouble and pissing others, quite well. Elijah being here and looking for me, being my case in point on the matter.
Anyway, Knox was a tall man. At least one head and a half taller than Elijah, from what I could tell. He had a very toned body, with enough muscles to make a girl drool, but not so much so that it became too much. His whole body was filled with ink and he had piercings on nearly every part of him you could think off: His ears, his nose, his eyebrows, his tongue, his lip –he had a lip ring –and even on his dick –Madi was the one that put them there on a dare. The only part he did not have a piercing on was his navel. According to him, that was a chick thing to do and he 'ain't a pussy' –his words, not mine. Knox always wore a pair of shades in front of his hazel eyes –no matter what the lighting was –short sleeves –no matter what the weather was –as well as a leather cut –which also had short sleeves –a pair of faded blue jeans and biker boots.
"What the fuck is going on, here!" Knox exclaimed. "The parlor is closed, dude, even for Original leeches like yourself. I don't care who runs this turf, the rules in this parlor are the same for everyone." Go, for it Knox! Put the guy back to his place.
Unfortunately for me, my excitement was short lived. The jingling sound of the old entrance's bell resonated through the parlor's walls, announcing the arrival of new comers.
The first one to come in was Merryn –our second tattoo artist –a lollipop tucked between her lips. She was carrying a bundle of toilet papers in one hand –a useful thing to have –and a pack of beer in the other –another useful thing to have. She was soon followed by Kathleen –our second piercer –who had her nose stuck between the pages of a book –no surprise there. It didn't take long for Merryn to spot Elijah. She ignored the tense silence and stared at Elijah. His only reaction was to raise an eyebrow. His aura started taking a pale shade of turquoise, which I recognize as Curiosity.
Merryn did not flinch in front of the taller man –she was seldom bothered by anything other than her sugar intake and. Instead, she gave him a slight glare and went resumed her walk back to the back shop. It was her way of telling Elijah just how insignificant she found him.
Merryn was not tall, but she was not small either. She was pretty much average sized, for a woman. She had thick and short brown colored hair, which fell down to her chin. She possessed the most beautiful set of green eyes that sparkled so much they reminded me of emeralds. She had wide thighs and shoulders. The rest of her was pretty much unremarkable, and that's exactly how she preferred it, most of the time: Merryn hated being the center of attention.
Kathleen –or Kitten, as we loved to call her –was barely passing by Elijah –she walked really slowly when she had her head in a book –when he decided that he had been patient enough and tried to walk past my friends and colleagues. One minute he was in front of Knox and the next he was pushed against the entrance door, on the other side of the room, Kitten's right hand around his neck while the left one held her precious book. Her back was facing the rest of us, so I couldn't see her face, but knowing her for as long as I have, I was willing to bet my arms and legs that she was glaring at the man.
You see, Kitten was a strong build tall ebony skinned woman, with long frizzy raven hair and chocolate colored doe eyes. She had long legs, long lashes, a nice tight ass and what she referred to as a small sized chest. But what truly made her charm –at least in my opinion –was her wild personality. Unlike Chloe, who almost always kept calm, Kitten was really easy to piss off. It was fun, really! The best part was when Knox was the one pushing her buttons. Really! There was always this electric atmosphere around them, some sort of sexual tension. Unbeknown to them, we even had a bet about how long it would take before they slept together.
"Na uh, pretty boy, don't even think about going around us. It'd be a shame to hurt your pretty face." She told him. Boy did I love enhanced hearing! I chuckled. That's when Elijah's dark eyes glanced above Kitten's broad shoulders and looked straight into mine. It was impossible for him to see me –even with his vampire sight –I knew it, but it still felt as though he was looking through my soul. Shit, I thought, he heard me… On second thought, I hated enhanced hearing!
"If you won't let me pass willingly than I have no other choice but to force my way through." He whispered.
"By kicking our asses?" Madi wondered out loud from her spot behind Knox.
"No, that would most definitely not earn me any… brownie points, I believe the expression is. I will just… make you want to let me pass." He explained as he looked back down into Kitten's dark eyes. He stared into her dark pools, unblinking as he told her to let him go and let him pass. She took a step back, only to push him against the door seconds later.
"Just kidding!" she exclaimed, sarcastically.
"It's not possible: I don't smell any verveine on you, so you are not under its influence." He said in disbelief, as he struggled to breathe in.
"Yes, well, compulsion doesn't work with us and our people," Merryn told him, as she walked out from the back store to stand between Knox and Chloe. That statement seemed to have confused Elijah.
"Camille, Rousseau's barmaid, send me." He said between labored breaths –I knew then that Kitten had tightened her grasp around his neck. This statement stopped everyone else.
Well, shit. I cursed under my breath as I grabbed my cellphone and called the woman that, until recently, had been one of my roommates.
"Cam, it's me. I have a man in front of my boutique. He claims he's here to collect that favor I owe you. Is it true?" I asked. When she confirmed my fears, I thanked her, hung up and cursed again.
Great. This was just great. I thought as I walked out of my office and bent down on the railing in front of it.
"Kitten, please be a dear and release the leech. It appears that our debt to Camille is being called in. Chloe, could you please add his name in the book. It's a one-hour appointment, starting at…" I glanced at the clock: it was One twenty-one A.M. "… One twenty-two A.M." And just like that, Chloe was writing down on the agenda what I had just asked of her.
I walked down the stairs, my gaze never leaving his.
The moment I reached the last step, Kitten let him go and, he appeared in front of me.
"Désirée Goodfellow, I believe." He said. "I'm here for…"
"Stop. This isn't the place to talk business. Please follow me up." I mumbled, frustrated that I was forced to help the traitorous bastard others referred to as the noble original. Ha, as if… but I knew better!
He followed me up into the room I used to tattoo my clients –the one on the right side of my office.
"Take your Armani suit and shirt down," I ordered, once I closed the door behind us. He looked at me, surprised. "This is a tattoo parlor," I explained. "If you want something, then you need to act the part of the client. It's either a tattoo or a piercing." I added the last part once I realized that he wasn't going to move.
"Ooh, let me pierce his dick! I'll make it extra painful!" we both heard Madi's excited yell from the bottom floor. Suddenly, Elijah's top was gone, one of his eyebrows was raised and his smirk was still in place. Boy did I hate this sexy smirk!
"What are you?"
"A pissed off and tired woman. Lay down on your back." I ordered him as I pointed towards the leather long chair. He went on it and laid down.
"What kind of creature. You don't smell like a vampire or a werewolf, yet you have enhanced abilities. I sense some kind of magic in you, yet you don't smell like a witch either."
"I don't see how that concerns you. Here's how it's going to work," I started to explain, "I owe a favor to Camille. By listening to your request, I'll be paying her back. That, however, doesn't mean that I'll help you. If I do decide to help, know that each favor demands a payment."
"Name your price." He said, with assurance.
"I never demand money. Money is too trivial and can easily be spent. No, what you will owe me is a favor of my own choosing, to call upon at any moment I want. It can be a piece of information, your help for something, an object… anything, really. Are you willing to pay that sort of price?" I asked him.
"I am." His confidence was starting to become infuriating. I turned from him and went to the small desk on the corner of the room.
"Ok, than, what is it you want?" And so, as I sketched a tattoo on a piece of paper, he told me everything about Marcel and his cronies who were stepping over the witches –no surprises there –he also told me about the she-wolf that was pregnant with Klaus' kid –now that, I really wasn't expecting. According to him, his brother didn't want to protect his unborn child –well, I could have guessed as much. And, then, he shared with me his desire to know where Marcel Gerard lived –Now we were talking business –and what he uses as a secret weapon –Not an impossible task, but not an easy one either… I loved challenges, though!
I walked back to him, the sketch done. His requests weren't unrealistic, and being able to call a Mikaelson's favor could prove useful in the future.
My mind made up, I sat back down beside the young looking old man and took my colors and my needle. It was time for me to do some magic, literally speaking – …kind of –and figuratively speaking.
"This is a contract," I started to say as my hand guided the needle over his heart, "between you, Elijah Mikaelson, and me, Désirée Goodfellow. I will help you and in exchange, you will pay me with a favor, for each completed deed. Your request to know where the vampire Marcel Gerard lives and so I shall bring you to him. For this, one favor will be owed. You also request to find Marcel's secret weapon. For this, you will owe me another favor. Should either of us not fulfill their part of the bargain, then they will die. Do you agree?" He nodded. "I need you to formulate the words."
"I do." Good. The moment I finished tattooing the seal, he took a sharp intake, most likely feeling the slight tickle of magic, so small in fact that it wouldn't be detectable by anyone other than him and I. I felt a similar tickle on my chest –right over my heart –as the contract's mark begun to form. It would stay there until I fulfilled my part of the bargain, just like that tattoo would remain on him until he gave me back what he owed me.
"What in hell was that?" he questioned. Honestly, I didn't like his better-than-thou intonations he had going.
"The contract. It's bound to both our souls. If, once my side of the bargain fulfilled you deny me your help when asked, your soul will leave your body and belong to me. For all intents and purposes, you will be dead. The same happens to me if I don't complete my side of the contract within the year. So, I suggest that you dress up so that I bring you to the place Marcel is staying at."
It didn't take us long to reach the place –it was, after all, the Mikaelsons' old residence. Elijah used his compulsion on the guards to allow us in –a very useful ability if you asked me –and wrapped his arm around my waist, guiding me up the stairs. We watched from the railing Marcel and Klaus argue. Suddenly, Klaus bit one of Marcel's man down. His bite being a werewolf's one was deadly for vampires, however, the cure to it laid in his bloodstream.
Once Elijah considered that we were done there, he accompanied me out.
The first half of the contract was done. Now, I needed to complete my second half.
"Thank you for your help, Miss Goodfellow." His whisper was gentle, charming even, much like I remembered it to be.
"No prob. Just doing my job… more or less. I'll start looking for this secret weapon that you mentioned. Whenever I find something out about it, I'll tell you." He nodded before bringing my cold knuckles up to his warm and soft lips. Yup, ever the charmer. "By, Elijah." I quickly reaped my arm away and turned before I started to walk away, still feeling his gaze on my back. I stopped and faced him once again. "You really don't recognize me, do you?" I asked, my eyes looking into his. His usual smirk gave way to a frown, as he studied my face.
I had a square shaped face, with falling eyelashes –that annoyed me to hell –almond shaped hazel eyes and thin lips. My thick and wavy auburn hair fell down to my mid-back. My body was curvy –my stomach wasn't flat, most likely the result of my sweet tooth, but it wasn't big either. I had a flat ass –and a bit of a muffin top –and breasts that were too big for my liking. My thighs were wide and too curvy for my liking, but what bothered me the most was my shortness. People tended to find me cute… like a cat. Cute! Can you imagine that? I was badass, not cute!
"Should I?" he asked, most definitely not recognizing me. But that wasn't a surprise. The last time we saw each other, before today, I was a naïve, giggling eight years old that loved him more than anything else. Not anymore. And soon, I would have my revenge on all those that wronged my mother and me. I just had to be patient.
"Forget it. Have a good night, mister Mikaelson." And so I turned and left him to his business.
Once I reached my small apartment, on the other side of the French Quarter, I walked in and closed the door behind me. I turned and faced my door. On the right side of it, there was a small screen with a keyboard. I typed the numbers 2747414204 2038843 and reopened the entrance door and walked out. But this time, I wasn't walking in my apartment building's hallway. No, I was walking through a mirror and right into the entrance hall of a mansion: the Wherelocke Mansion. It had been my house since I was a child. Sure, it had once burned down, but I rebuild everything from scratch. Now it was as good as new.
"Ah, Miss Live, we were wondering where you had disappeared to." My long and dark haired Asian butler, Sei, told me as he took my purse and jacket away from me.
"Ah, good evening Sei! I had a job to do before coming home." I explained while taking my shoes off and slipping my slippers on.
"I trust that it all went well." He said, carefully checking me for injuries.
"Yes, without a hitch. Now, how about we all get some dinner and head off to bed! Tomorrow will come bright and early, as usual."
I was in denial, but I would soon have to face the fact that the peaceful normal life –as normal as it can be for someone like me in a city like this –that I had been able to live the past six weeks –were now over.
I would now have to face the Mikaelson chaos… again.
Well, Friday the thirteenth was never a lucky day, now was it!
AN: Okay my lovelies, here's chapter 1!
Hope you liked it!
So, what do you think Désirée is? What do you think happened to her!
Leave a comment below and tell me!
See you in two weeks!
Kisses 3