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Letti gazed at her reflection in the mirror, smoothing her hands gently over the fabric of her dress. It'd been ages since she'd "dressed for the occasion," as there hadn't been very many occasions worth dressing for. In the years spent hiding from her brother, she'd adopted a rather relaxed lifestyle, one far removed from the royal  elegance that had defined her for centuries. She barely recognized the person staring back at her, but there was something different about her reflection—something new swimming in the blue of her irises—that left her intrigued. Was it the newfound confidence churning inside her? The thought that after the night was over, she'd finally have centuries worth of retribution? Letti wasn't certain, but she was sure she'd have an answer soon. Only time would tell.

As Letti grabbed the tube of red lipstick from her bag, she registered a presence. It wasn't Damon, which was surprising given his nature of lurking, but even more surprising was that it was Elena. Letti could smell her sweet scent and even hear the accelerated beat of her heart. Sweet scent, erratic pulse...nervous but trying not to show it. The faintest smirk pulled at Letti's lips. 

Elena was anxious, understandably so, but Letti was one Original the doppelgänger didn't need to fear. Well, unless a reason was given to change that. Letti had no qualms with Elena, however. She didn't particularly like her, given her unwarranted confidence and the air of moral superiority she seemed to wear like a badge of honor, but Letti respected Elena and understood the living hell her brother had turned her life into. To be reduced solely to a human bloodbag at the expense of a psychotic centuries old vampire didn't sound like a walk in the park. Hopefully that was something she didn't have to worry about too much longer.

Letti didn't turn as the doppelgänger stepped hesitantly into the room. "Hello, Elena," she greeted, her tone neutral, yet edged with faint amusement. She met Elena's eyes in the mirror for a moment before turning back to finish her lipstick. "What an unexpected surprise."

"You look beautiful," Elena offered Letti, tentatively inching her way into the room.

Elena's compliment caught Letti off guard for the briefest moment. The two had interacted less than a handful of times, so for Elena to be so familiar with her now was unusual. But Letti decided against addressing it. Instead, she played along with Elena's attempt at civility, curious as to where it would lead.

"Thank you," Letti replied halfheartedly, her crimson lips curving into a faint, almost indifferent smile. She capped the makeup with a soft click and tossed it into her bag. She trailed her eyes over Elena's appearance, her usual long sleeve and jeans a far cry from what should be attire for the Homecoming dance. "Are you not going?"

Elena shrugged her shoulders and began wandering aimlessly around the room, looking over Rebekah's and Letti's belongings scattered about. "I don't know if I'm in the Homecoming mood," she replied, absentmindedly picking up a bracelet from the nightstand. She looked it over, clearly intrigued as the gold band caught the light. Letti watched her with narrowed eyes, fighting the frown pulling at the edge of her lips as she eyed the piece of jewelry in Elena's careful hands. It was her oldest gift, one she continued to cherish after receiving it more than 900 years ago. It was from Klaus, of course, a piece he had personally handmade for her. She now found it ironic that the belongings she cherished most had been given to her by him.

"Who knows? The night may surprise you," Letti said to her, walking over to gently remove the bracelet from Elena's hands.

"The last thing I want is to be surprised," Elena said with a chuckle. "If everything could simply go to plan, I'll be okay with that."

Letti didn't say much, because she knew the night would not be ending the way Elena anticipated it would. She had no intention on revealing that to her, however, so she remained silent, her gaze on the intricate carvings etched into the piece of jewelry. Elena watched her with a curious expression, wondering what the piece of jewelry meant to her. But there was barely a hint of anything on Letti's face to help answer the questions burning within. Elena had a hunch, though.

"Did Klaus give you that?" she asked Letti, finally earning back her attention.

"Indeed, he did," Letti confirmed, sparing one last glance at the bracelet before placing it back onto the nightstand. "He carved the labradorite from a stone he found in a quarry, and then constructed the bracelet itself from gold he'd stolen from King Henry's treasury. Our names are etched into the band."

"That's sounds like something a normal brother would do for his sister," Elena mused with a tilt of her head, treading kindly as she didn't want to risk angering her with her words. Letti remained as cool as ever, though, seemingly open to chatting about her brother.

"Once upon a time, he was a normal brother," Letti said softly, walking over to the mirror to touch up her hair. She was just about ready to go. The only thing left now were her shoes. "That all changed when our parents turned us into vampires, but you now know that story well enough now, don't you?"

Elena nodded but pressed on. "Did telling me your story help change your mind about Klaus? Is that why you're here today? Helping us get rid of him?"

Letti's lips twitched with a wry smile as she met Elena's gaze in the mirror. "Contrary to what you may believe, Elena, this has nothing to do with you or your group of heroes, but everything to do with my brother. He needs to be stopped, and intend to see it done."

Elena crossed her arms, her skepticism clear. "And how am I supposed to know you won't turn on us once this is over?"

A dry chuckle escaped Letti's lips, her amusement at the doppelgänger's misplaced confidence crystal clear. "All you need to know is that when the night is over, all of us will have what we want," Letti said, turning to face her fully. "You and your friends, your freedom from my brother's devilish ways, and me, my retribution for a millennia's worth of turmoil."

"Is that supposed to ease my mind?" Elena asked, clearly doubting Letti's words. There was something in her tone Elena didn't particularly like, but she couldn't place what it was or why.

Letti shrugged her shoulders, unbothered by Elena's accusatory tone. "Whether it eases your mind or not is no concern of my own. I did not come here to cater to your peace of mind. I came here to deal with my brother, and my brother alone. Your petty concerns are...insignificant."

"I find that funny given how close you seem to have become with Damon," Elena remarked. The jealousy within her tone was subtle, but Letti caught it immediately. "Do you expect me not to care about what happens to him when this is all over?"

At this point, Letti was growing impatient with the doppelgänger, rather annoyed, even. Listening to this little girl speak to her in such a way was grating on her nerves, and she was more than ready to end the conversation so she could get done what needed to be done.

"What I expect, doppelgänger, is for you to mind your own business," Letti said, the firmness of her tone leaving Elena startled. "My relationship with Damon—or lack thereof—is of no concern to you. Perhaps you should spend less time worrying about me and more time addressing why the very thought of us getting closer bothers you so much."

The subtle jab landed, though Elena didn't entirely understand the pang of jealousy brewing inside her chest. She opened her mouth to retort but found no words.

Letti, now satisfied, turned her attention back to the mirror, smoothing her dress one last time. "You should probably get going," she said dismissively. "The night is young, and I wouldn't want you to miss the fun."

With a deep breath, Elena finally retreated, leaving Letti to her own company. The conversation had produced little to no impact on Letti, though she never imagined it would. All it did was magnify her growing disdain toward the doppelgänger. A seventeen-year-old girl trying to patronize a thousand-year-old hybrid was something Letti hadn't prepared herself for, but it sure made for quite the entertainment.

After a few more twists and curls, Letti finally finished her hair. She grabbed her black heels and put them on quickly before finally heading out of the bedroom. She could hear the chatter emanating from downstairs, the two familiar voices quieting as Letti made her way to the top of the stairs. As she descended the staircase, the world around her seemed to pause. Her black dress, shimmering faintly like the midnight sky, cascaded down her form, exuding a quiet authority that turned heads without any effort at all. The soft, rhythmic sound of her heels against the hardwood floor echoed in the silence that now blanketed the Salvatore home. The air seemed heavier, charged with an almost electric energy, as her presence commanded the room.

Damon stood near the fireplace, his drink in hand, but the sharp sarcasm he often leaned on was nowhere to be found. His usual easy confidence faltered as he took her in. The black dress hugged her figure with an elegance that was both refined and dangerous, the bold red of her lipstick a striking contrast that seemed to mirror the intensity in her crystal-blue eyes. Her honey blonde locks were pulled into an updo of royal caliber, with long, curled fringe framing her face in a way that made her look effortlessly regal, yet untouchable.

She reached the last step, and for a fleeting moment, her eyes met his. There was something there, something teasing, perhaps, in the faint curve of her lips—a knowing smirk that acknowledged the effect she now seemed to have on him. But it was gone just as quickly, replaced by the composed demeanor that defined her.

"Dressed for the occasion, I see," Damon finally broke the silence, though his voice lacked the usual bravado. "If this is what that looks like, I'm afraid nothing else is ever going to measure up."

Letti arched a brow, amused. "Speechless, Damon?" she teased, her voice smooth and steady, as if she wasn't fully aware of the storm she'd just caused. "That's a first."

"Not speechless," Damon countered, though his smirk was softer, almost self-conscious. "Just... recalibrating."

She let out a quiet laugh, brushing past him without another word. The subtle trail of her perfume—a blend of dark florals and something intoxicatingly warm—lingered in her wake. Damon turned slightly, watching as she moved through the room with a grace that seemed almost otherworldly.

But he wasn't the only one watching.

From across the room, Mikael's gaze followed his daughter, the weight of a thousand years pressing against him. For the briefest of moments, the monster in him fell away, and what remained was the father who had once loved her with everything he had. She looked much like she had centuries ago, back when she was the jewel of their family, before the curses and the betrayals. His Letti—his bright, strong-willed daughter—had always had a way of stealing the room, of commanding attention without so much as trying.

A flicker of nostalgia tightened his chest as he saw her, dressed in that black gown that made her look every bit the royalty she was. The way she moved reminded him of the girl he had once doted on, the daughter he had taught to ride horses, who had clung to his hand as they walked through their village.

But that nostalgia quickly soured into something more bitter. The daughter he loved had died the moment her cursed bloodline had awakened. Letti was no longer his; she was Niklaus's mirror, the abomination he could never forgive. Yet, no matter how fiercely he tried to hold onto that hatred, a pang of loss lingered deep within him, stabbing at whatever scraps of humanity he still possessed.

Letti felt his gaze. She stopped just short of the doorway and turned her head slightly, her cold blue eyes meeting Mikael's. For a moment, neither of them said anything, but the tension in the air was palpable. Letti arched a brow, her lips pulling into a faint, humorless smile, as if she could sense the battle raging within him.

"Enjoying the view, Father?" she said, her tone cutting but light, almost playful in its delivery. The dagger behind her words wasn't lost on him.

Mikael's jaw tightened, his face unreadable as he forced himself to look away, the ghost of his memories threatening to drown him.

Damon's gaze flicked between the two of them, intrigued and uneasy by the silent exchange. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but there was something deeply fractured between them—a history so tangled and violent it left scars even after a thousand years. And yet, Damon could also see the faintest crack in Mikael's otherwise impenetrable demeanor, a fleeting moment of humanity that seemed reserved only for her.

"If you'll excuse me," Mikael spoke quietly, sparing not a single glance to anyone before disappearing from the house.

Letti turned back to the room, unbothered by the charged moment, and continued toward the bourbon, hasty in her effort to drown out the impending chaos of the night. But Damon stayed frozen, the knot in his chest tightening as he realized something he couldn't quite articulate: Letti wasn't just dangerous—she was heartbreaking. And somehow, that made her even more captivating. 

Letti poured the remainder of Damon's bourbon into her glass, watching as the lights danced across the amber. She downed the liquid sloshing in her glass, allowing the warmth of the beverage to encapsulate her senses. Her eyes fell upon Damon, gazing over his appearance and casual attire. She figured he would be dressed and ready for the dance, but he was dressed the opposite.

"No suit?" Letti tilted her head slightly, raking her eyes up and down Damon's figure. "Not going to the dance tonight?"

Ever aware of her lingering gaze, Damon's smirk grew into something sharper. "Not right away," he drawled, taking a quick swig of his own drink. "Unless you're looking for a date?"

Letti chuckled softly and quickly shook her head, her playful blue eyes meeting his own. "I tend to go at these things alone," she replied smoothly. "But I do look forward to seeing you there."

Damon raised a brow and leaned forward, just enough to close the distance slightly. "I could say the same for you," he said, his tone low but deliberate. His gaze lingered, almost daring, as it traced the curve of her crimson lips and the way she carried herself with a cool, effortless confidence. "Gotta say, I'm stoked to see what you'll be bringing to the party."

Letti's lips pulled into a small, knowing smile. "Patience, Salvatore," she said, brushing past him as she headed to the foyer, on the hunt for another bottle of bourbon. Her hand lightly trailed the edge of the mantle, a deliberate gesture that left him watching her even after she was gone.

For a moment, Damon stared at the empty space she'd left behind, his smirk faltering slightly as he shook his head to himself. Whatever Letti was bringing to the party, he had no doubt it was going to leave a lasting impression.

In the quiet of the foyer, Letti located the bottle of bourbon she'd been searching for and quickly refilled her glass. She stood alone, sipping her drink as she thought about her brief exchange only moments ago with Damon. She was chastising herself. She knew she needed to be careful, but she couldn't deny she was having a bit of fun. She just wasn't so sure it was the right kind of fun, not at the moment anyway. But everything seemed to come so naturally with him it was almost impossible to stop.

She finished off her drink, tearing herself from her thoughts, when a loud thud shattered the stillness. Her ears twitched, honing in on the frantic cadence of a heartbeat upstairs, followed by the dwindling sound of another. Every muscle in her body tensed, and the glass in her hand cracked slightly beneath the pressure of her grip. Something was wrong.

In an instant, Letti was upstairs. She stopped in the doorway of Stefan's room, her gaze sweeping over the scene with a clarity that sharpened the rage beginning to flood her veins. Elena stood frozen next to a wide-eyed Damon. On the floor in front of them, Rebekah lay motionless, her stunning scarlet homecoming dress pooling around her like blood. The dagger in her back gleamed beneath the dim light of the room, and the telltale blue veins of a desiccated Original were scattered across her body.

Letti locked her eyes on Elena, her rage magnified tenfold, and before anyone could think, Elena found herself against the bedroom wall with a fist tight around her throat. Elena couldn't help but stare into the golden eyes boring into hers, the veins streaking beneath them a clear testament to raw power she possessed. "You dare lay a hand on my sister?" Letti said, her voice low and trembling with fury.

Elena attempted to claw her way out of the hybrid's grip, her face flushing as she struggled for air, but Letti didn't budge. Damon moved quickly, grabbing Letti's arm to try and pull her away, but she didn't even flinch. Her strength was immovable, deliberate—there was no strain in the motion, no hesitation. It was terrifyingly calculated.

"Let her go, Letti! C'mon!" Damon shouted, trying desperately to free Elena from her grip.

Letti didn't even spare him a glance. With a sharp motion, she shoved Damon backwards. Damon flew across the room, crashing into a wooden table that shattered beneath him. He groaned in pain as the splintered wood pierced his skin, but Letti remained unbothered, keeping her attention solely on Elena.

"Rebekah is faster, stronger," Letti hissed, her voice like ice but unrelenting as she stared into Elena's tear-filled eyes. She tightened her grip slightly, just enough to make her point clear. "She is everything you are not, so tell me, doppelgänger—how did you do it?"

Elena gasped for breath, her lips trembling as she tried to speak. Letti's power radiated off of her in waves, suffocating and unforgiving, but there was something buried in her anger—something deeper, more vulnerable. The sight of her sister, lifeless on the floor, had triggered every protective instinct within her, leaving her teetering on the edge of restraint.

"Letti..." Damon groaned, pulling himself from the wreckage and staggering toward her. Blood was smeared across his arm, but he didn't care. His voice softened, desperate to pull her back from the brink. "Don't do this."

For a brief moment, Letti's grip faltered, the tiniest flicker of conflict flashing in her eyes. Her vision blurred with rage, but somewhere beneath it, Damon's voice threaded through the haze. She clung to it—not because she wanted to, but because she feared what would happen if she let go.

She could kill Elena, and part of her wanted to, but she knew Damon was watching—knew he would never look at her the same way if she crossed that line, though she wasn't sure why she cared.

Her hand fell away, letting Elena collapse to the floor in a coughing heap. Letti turned to Damon, her expression unreadable, but the fire in her eyes hadn't yet cooled. "I want answers," she demanded coldly, her voice unwavering. "And I want them now."

Damon took a cautious step toward her, his hand brushing against hers briefly as he met her gaze. "You'll get them," he said quietly. "Let's just not lose our cool here, okay?"

Letti said nothing, her jaw tightening as she cast one last glance at Rebekah. Her heart ached beneath the anger, but she buried it deep, unwilling to let anyone see the cracks forming in her armor. She strode out of the room, her heels clicking against the hardwood like the ticking of a countdown.

Letti didn't look back. She couldn't—not yet.

She hurried down the stairs and headed straight for the bourbon, filling her glass to the brim and emptying it with no hesitation at all. The sharp burn of the alcohol barely registered against the rage wreaking havoc within her. Footsteps echoed behind her, and she refilled her glass again for good measure. She snatched the decanter from the table and headed for the living room, where Damon and Elena were making their approach.

She settled onto the sofa with an unsettling calm, her glass poised elegantly in one hand, the decanter resting on the table beside her. Her piercing blue eyes snapped up to meet theirs as they entered, first landing on Damon, who gave her his usual smirk, then on Elena, whose flushed face and glazed eyes betrayed her shaken state. Letti's gaze lingered on the doppelgänger, cold and unflinching. Sympathy was not something Letti had to offer tonight.

"Would either of you care to explain," Letti began, her voice low and icy, "why my sister is laying upstairs with a dagger in her back?" Her tone brooked no argument, and the weight of her words hung heavy in the room, compelling a response.

"The thing is, it needed to happen," Damon said, his usual bravado earning an immediate eye roll from Letti. His nonchalance grated her already frayed nerves. This wasn't a laughing matter, or a passing circumstance of convenience. This was Rebekah. Her sister.

These people seemed to have no qualms at all about hurting her family.

Letti took a sharp swig of bourbon, the liquid searing her throat and doing little to quench the fire of her rage. Her icy gaze locked onto Damon. "And why, exactly, did it 'need to happen?'"

Elena stepped forward, her voice shaky but determined. "Rebekah couldn't be trusted," she said, her tone betraying a hint of defiance as she tried to justify her actions. "Somehow, somewhere, her emotions would've gotten in the way of our plan. And I can't afford to let that happen."

Letti tilted her head slightly, her lips pulling into a faint, humorless smile. She sipped her drink, her eyes narrowing as she stewed over Elena's words. "Trust is such a broad spectrum, isn't it?" she said, her tone measured but dripping with disdain. "You'll have to be more specific if I'm to truly grasp the idiocy of your decision."

"Klaus killed your mother," Elena retorted, edging closer to Damon as if seeking solidarity. "But at the end of the day, he's still your brother. Rebekah may be angry with him, but she's never going to follow through with a plan to kill him."

The words struck Letti, though she masked her reaction well. Neither will I, she thought, her mind churning with the carefully concealed plan she'd been crafting. She knew full well Elena didn't trust her—and why should she? Letti wasn't dagger-proof just in body; her entire demeanor screamed unreadable. Still, Elena's audacity stung more than Letti cared to admit.

"You're lucky I don't drive that dagger straight through your heart, just to see if it shatters.," Letti said quietly, her voice calm but laced with venom. Her words hung in the air like a storm cloud, thick with promise and threat.

Damon stiffened, his smirk fading, but he wisely held his tongue. Elena, however, didn't share his restraint. Elena kept her chin lifted, but her heart was racing, betraying the fear pooling in her gut. She refused to let it show—not to Letti. "So, what's stopping you?" Elena's words were reckless, but fear made them sharp. "You could've pulled the dagger out the moment you saw it, but you didn't."

Letti's smile turned razor-thin, her eyes gleaming with something dangerous. She leaned back slightly, cradling her glass as though Elena's challenge had only amused her. "And I have no intention of doing so. Not yet, anyway." Her words shocked them both, but she didn't allow them time to respond. "Rebekah is emotional, as you've said, and I could see how that might threaten your plans. I, too, had my reservations about my sister, but I would've addressed those concerns myself had they become relevant. And I would've done so personally."

She paused, her gaze hardening as it locked onto Elena. "Instead, you've taken matters into your own hands, robbing Rebekah of the chance to experience a night she's deemed of importance."

"So, you're telling me you agree with me?" Elena asked, clearly startled by Letti's admission.

Letti shook her head slowly, pouring herself another glass of bourbon. She sipped it thoughtfully before responding. "I agree that Rebekah's emotions could pose a problem," she said evenly, "but I will never—never—agree with your methods."

The venom in Letti's voice returned, and for a moment, she considered all the ways she could make Elena regret ever crossing her sister. But she let the thought pass, choosing instead to finish her drink in silence.

Damon sighed, sensing the tension in the room rising to an unbearable level. "All right, kids, let's dial it back a notch," he said, his tone light but wary as he glanced between Letti and Elena. "Nobody's getting daggered—or re-daggered—tonight."

Letti's lips curved into a wry smile, though her eyes remained cold. "For now," she said, setting her empty glass down with deliberate precision. "But make no mistake, Elena. If you cross my family again, I won't be so...understanding."

With that, Letti stood up and strode out of the room, leaving Elena and Damon in tense silence. Damon sighed again, rubbing the back of his neck as he glanced at Elena. "Well, that could've gone worse."

Elena shot him a look, but even she couldn't argue. Letti's warning was crystal clear. For so long, Elena had believed Klaus to be the ultimate threat—the Original who needed to be eliminated at all costs. And while that still held true, the day had already made one thing glaringly obvious: Klaus was only one half of a whole. Letti, with her quiet intensity and unapologetic power, was the other. And perhaps, in ways Elena couldn't yet fully grasp, she was the more dangerous half.