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The night before was a haze, a tangle of fragmented memories that Letti struggled to piece together. Her venture into the Lockwood cellar with Damon and Mason had unearthed more than just the past; it had awakened a deep ache she hadn't anticipated. The underground caverns they stumbled upon were painfully familiar, a hidden network she had once roamed freely with her family. A thousand years ago, those walls bore witness to her siblings' laughter, their youthful mischief echoing in the cool, damp air. Together, they had etched their stories into the rock, immortalizing moments of joy and belonging. But now, the caverns that had once embraced her seemed to reject her, sealed by magic as if to erase her claim to the space. The bitter sting of irony left her raw.

Letti hadn't lingered after the discovery. Damon had stayed behind, his determination to uncover the secrets behind the barrier palpable, but she had needed distance. The weight of those memories pressed too heavily against her chest, and the words to explain them wouldn't come. Even if she had tried, how could she describe the vivid images burned into her mind—of hands carving into stone, of shared smiles under the flickering torchlight, of a time when life felt whole?

Instead, Letti had retreated, seeking solace in solitude. She needed space to sift through the emotions unraveling inside her, to lose herself in the fragments of a world long gone. The longing in her heart was sharp and relentless, pulling her back to simpler days when the air had been filled with laughter, innocence, and the warmth of family unbroken by time.

The meadow at the edge of the village was alive with the fresh blooms of spring, a symphony of color and scent stretching across the grassland. Wildflowers dotted the field in vibrant patches, their intricate hues blending harmoniously beneath the golden sunlight. The air was rich with the mingling aromas of blossoms, damp earth, and the faint musk of oak leaves carried on a gentle, warm breeze that caressed the skin like a tender embrace.

Nikoleta glanced back over her shoulder, her laughter ringing out as Niklaus stumbled awkwardly behind her, his feet catching briefly in the uneven terrain. A mischievous grin tugged at her lips, and she surged forward, the soft rustle of her skirts brushing against the flowers as she raced toward the far end of the meadow. Behind her, Niklaus's voice rang out, calling her name with mock frustration, each word growing louder, closer, until suddenly he wasn't behind her at all—he was beside her.

The breeze shifted sharply as Niklaus darted past her, the force of his speed tousling the strands of hair that had slipped free from her braid.

"Niklaus!" Nikoleta called after him, her tone edged with indignation as she skidded to a halt, realizing she had lost. Her chest heaved with exertion, a pout forming as she crossed her arms. She had been so sure she had him.

"You speak as though I've upset you, sister," Niklaus teased, his smirk as sharp as the glint of sunlight catching his curls. He turned to face her, his posture triumphant, arms casually folded behind his back. "I've merely won a fair race, as I always do."

"One would argue otherwise," she muttered softly, letting out a quiet sigh as she sank into the carpet of wildflowers surrounding her.

The delicate blooms swayed gently in the breeze, brushing against her arms as she settled into the grass. Her gaze drifted until it landed on a lone daisy standing tall among the others. A soft smile graced her lips as she plucked it from the ground, its white petals cool and fragile between her fingers. Carefully, she began weaving it into her long braid, the familiar motion soothing as she threaded the stem into place.

Decorating her hair with bright, floral patterns was a simple joy she had always loved. Usually, Rebekah was by her side, the two of them giggling as they adorned one another with blossoms plucked straight from the meadow. But today, her little sister had chosen to remain home with their mother, leaving Nikoleta to seek out the company of her brothers instead.

And she couldn't have imagined spending the day any other way. Nearby, Elijah was in the woods with Kol, patiently teaching their youngest brother how to hunt. Niklaus was meant to join them, but as soon as Nikoleta had tugged at his hand and demanded his attention, his plans had shifted. She knew he would never deny her—he never did.

For Niklaus, Nikoleta was more than his twin; she was his anchor, the constant in his life he clung to most fiercely. The bond they shared was something he nurtured with every fiber of his being, a connection he protected with unwavering devotion. The thought of a world without her was an unbearable weight he couldn't fathom, a darkness he never wanted to face. She was his confidante, his safe haven, the one who eased the ache of their father's cruelty and offered warmth on even the gloomiest of days.

To Niklaus, she wasn't just his sister—she was his light.

The nights he spent sobbing quietly in her arms, broken by their father's unrelenting brutality, had become far too frequent. Yet, without fail, Nikoleta was always there, holding him tightly, her own tears mingling with his as they clung to each other for solace. She would stroke his hair, whispering words of comfort, though the ache in her heart mirrored his anguish.

Her hatred for their father had grown deep and unyielding, born from the torment he inflicted on Niklaus. Mikael's cruelty was like a poison, draining the light and wonder from her twin's eyes with every blow, every sharp word. The boy who once dreamed of freedom, of greatness, was slowly being crushed beneath the weight of a man who should have protected him. It was a sight that both broke her heart and stoked a quiet fury within her, a longing to end Mikael's reign of terror. But the bitter reality was that she couldn't—not yet.

"A clover for your hair, Nikoleta?" Niklaus's voice pulled her from her thoughts, soft and filled with the gentleness he reserved only for her. He lowered himself beside her, holding up the tiny green flower he'd plucked. Without waiting for her answer, he carefully wove it into the intricate braid she had adorned with daisies, his fingers deft yet tender.

Nikoleta's lips curved into a small smile, her heart swelling with an overwhelming sense of gratitude. "It's beautiful," she murmured, reaching up to touch the clover nestled among the other blooms.

For a fleeting moment, the weight of their lives disappeared, replaced by the warmth of their shared bond. In that simple, thoughtful gesture, Niklaus had turned her into a living emblem of their childhood—bright, unyielding, and steeped in the fragile promise of joy.

As they sat together, the soft chirping of birds filtered through the trees above, mingling with the gentle rustle of the wind as it danced through the meadow. The delicate symphony wrapped around them, a soothing contrast to the tumultuous lives they led. In that fleeting moment, Nikoleta allowed herself to focus entirely on Niklaus—the brother who had always been her anchor, the one who could read her heart as easily as she could his. His laughter, rich and unguarded, brought a warmth to her chest, momentarily dispelling the shadows cast by their father's cruelty.

The bond they shared ran deeper than blood, forged in the fires of shared pain and stolen moments of joy. It was in the way they instinctively sought each other out, the unspoken understanding that no matter how fractured their world became, they would always be each other's safe haven. As Niklaus leaned back against the soft grass, his eyes lifting to the endless expanse of sky above, he let out a contented sigh. Nikoleta watched him, her heart swelling with both love and sorrow.

She traced the delicate petals of a daisy woven into her braid, a bittersweet reminder of their fleeting innocence. Whatever darkness awaited them, she knew they would endure it together. Their bond was their shield, a quiet strength that neither time nor circumstance could sever.

Letti held on as the images began to fade, desperate to keep such a memory at the surface of her muddled mind. It didn't seem like much, but to Letti it was everything. It'd been one of the calmer instances of their chaotic lives, one of innocence and serenity rather than the turmoil they'd become all too familiar with. She wondered if she'd ever be able to let go, to accept that that part of her life had come and gone, never to return. But she didn't want to. If she let go of what used to be, she would betray the hope of what she knew could be. And what Letti knew in her heart was that her family could be whole again.

It was mid-afternoon. Letti had spent the day not doing much of anything apart from wandering the town lost inside her own head. She was slightly intoxicated, though the effects were wearing off quickly thanks to her hybrid physiology. For her, that just meant it was time for another drink. And the perfect place to find one had just come into view through the trees.

From the tree-line, and even a mile before, Letti could hear the music blaring inside the Boarding House. She could even hear seven heartbeats on top of that, though the only familiar scent belonged to one individual. Stefan was shackled to a chair beneath city hall, and Damon had been with Alaric and the doppelgänger examining photos of the caverns, so there was only one other person she could think to be the source of it all: her sister.

Rebekah had disappeared the day before, and Letti still hadn't figured out why. She had stopped worrying about it, though as there were more pressing matters to deal with. Damon's discovery of the tunnels and the carvings on the cavern walls lingered at the forefront of her mind, the weight of it gnawing at her focus. Whatever secrets those walls held, she wasn't ready for them to come to light—not yet.

Stepping through the door, Letti made no effort to mask her presence. The sound of her boots clicking softly against the floor was enough to alert Rebekah, who was flitting between the dining room and the living room, arranging champagne bottles alongside bourbon decanters and setting out crystal glasses with practiced precision. The display struck Letti as oddly formal, even for her sister. She paused, her brows furrowing as she took in the gleaming setup. The golden hue of the champagne caught the light, glinting like liquid sunlight, but it only deepened her confusion.

"Throwing a party?" Letti asked, her tone tinged with suspicion as she sauntered over to Rebekah's makeshift bar. She eyed the champagne but bypassed it, reaching instead for the familiar burn of bourbon. The satisfying clink of glass against glass echoed softly as she poured herself a drink, her movements deliberate.

"I invited Elena Gilbert over for a chat," Rebekah answered, her words leaving Letti in a state of slight surprise. She understood Rebekah's desire for normalcy, for friends even, but never did she imagine her sister befriending the doppelgänger. But the urgency in her tone alerted Letti that this wasn't necessarily a friendly meeting, but rather a meeting of necessity. "That doppelgänger bitch threatened me at school today."

Letti raised a brow, a frown creeping onto her face as she walked over to Rebekah, leaning against the wall with her drink in hand. Curiosity flickered in her eyes, mingling with concern. "What do you mean she threatened you?"

Rebekah stopped mid-pace, her frustration spilling over as she took a quick sip of her champagne. "They found Mikael, and she was more than happy to tell me about it." She paused, her voice dropping to a whisper as if the mere mention of Mikael summoned his dark shadow. "What the bloody hell are we supposed to do?"

"We could cower in fear," Letti suggested, her voice calm and measured, though her nonchalance was nothing more than an annoyance to Rebekah.

"I'm serious, Letti," Rebekah shot back, her tone sharp and seeping with frustration. She stepped closer, her eyes wide with disbelief. "And she had pictures of the carvings on the walls of the caverns we used to frequent. I have no idea how they even managed to find it."

"Mason Lockwood found it," Letti replied with a hint of dry humor, her lips curling up slightly. "As it turns out, ghosts have nothing better to do on the other side than concern themselves with the business of the living."

"Wait, how do you know?" Rebekah narrowed her eyes, suspicion flaring like wildfire.

"Because, yesterday he shoved a stake through my heart while you were otherwise occupied," Letti answered, a scoff escaping her as she took a swig of her drink. The burn of the alcohol washed over her, momentarily dulling the sharp edge of the situation, but the gravity of their predicament remained heavy in the air. "That eventually led to an interesting discussion at the Grill with him and Damon, which led to the Lockwood cellar. Which led to our caverns."

"I don't understand." Rebekah stopped, utterly confused with Letti's words. How had she gotten so involved so quickly? And just how much did she know about the conflict they now faced? "You're telling me you've been with Damon this entire time? Aiding him in finding the location of where we've buried our family's deepest secrets?"

Letti rolled her eyes. Rebekah was being dramatic, though that was nothing out of the ordinary. "They would've found it with or without me, Rebekah," she told her sister, her tone matter-of-fact. "Better I be with them and figure out exactly what they're up to as compared to the alternative. You should be glad I went."

"And what are they up to, Letti?" Rebekah had that stubborn look in her eyes, with a bit of underlying suspicion, as if she knew there was more to be said than what Letti seemed to be letting on. She knew her sister enough to know there was always something more, simmering just below the surface of her calm exterior.

Letti wanted to tell Rebekah everything, but she didn't trust her temper. It could often be just as bad as Klaus's, and she didn't necessarily feel like cleaning up the remnants of one of her tantrums. Until Letti knew more of what was going on, she planned to keep what she knew to herself.

Before she could formulate a response, the front door opened, diverting the sisters' attention. In walked the doppelgänger, Elena Gilbert. There was a confident expression on her face, betrayed by the air of unease surrounding her. Letti could hear Elena's heart hammering inside her chest, a revelation of the truth behind her emotions. Letti respected the facade, however.

Elena stopped mid-stride when she noticed Letti leaning against the wall, the latter of whom was watching her with menacing blue eyes as she sipped her bourbon. She recognized Letti immediately—the woman she'd been watching in the square, the one with the piercing gaze that made the hairs stand on the back of her neck. And it wasn't so different now that she was standing three feet away. As she stood so poised and confident in the Salvatore home, Rebekah at her side, Elena felt a rush of uncertainty. Maybe this woman was the other name etched into the wall of the caverns.

There was only one way to find out.

"Nikoleta?" Elena greeted the Original, her tone laced with uncertainty.

Letti paused for a moment, her eyes narrowing at the sound of the name. There were only a choice few who still called her by her given name—her siblings, really—but the mere sound of it from Elena's mouth was enough to make her skin crawl. "It's Letti," she replied, her voice steady but tinged with an edge.

Elena blinked, momentarily taken back by the sharpness in Letti's tone. "Right, Letti," she murmured, quickly trying to regain her composure.

At least her theory was right. The mysterious woman lurking around town was another Mikaelson. And given her rather comfortable presence here at the boarding house, she wondered if Damon and Stefan both knew, neither of whom felt compelled to inform her. That was something she'd deal with later. But for now she had questions that needed answered, and there was no one better suited to answer them than the two Mikaelson sisters standing in front of her.

"Fancy meeting you here," Rebekah quipped, taking a casual sip of her champagne.

"You invited me over, remember? To talk?" Elena spoke slowly, carefully making her way further into the house. She approached the sisters with caution, Letti's gaze continuing to make her uncomfortable. But she managed her composure well.

"Girls!" Rebekah called. "Have at it!"

Right on cue, six girls walked out of the dining room, all wearing beautiful dresses, yet all clearly compelled. Letti rolled her eyes at Rebekah's flair for the dramatic and sipped her drink, watching as her little sister taunted the doppelgänger with the fashion show. It was clear Elena didn't like it too much, and she didn't hesitate to make it known, but she was clearly out of her element in the presence of the sisters. Her courage was well respected, but one thing Rebekah would assure Elena was that she was not superior to them. Letti found it amusing, however, that her sister made it a point to prove her own by way of forcing Elena to pick something as menial as a homecoming dress. Sometimes she simply could not take her seriously. But that was often the fun of their relationship.

With a single command from Rebekah, the girls disappeared, leaving only the sisters and Elena. Rebekah turned to Elena with cutting blue eyes, and an expression that sent a shiver down the doppelgänger's spine.

"You do not threaten me," Rebekah said, her voice low and unwavering. "You will learn what it is I allow you to learn. Is that clear?"

Elena nodded her head in understanding and glanced over at Letti, who was watching the two with curious eyes. She gulped down her drink and walked over to make another, brushing past Rebekah as she did.

"That's no way to treat your guest, Bex," Letti teased her little sister, who only rolled her eyes in response to the words.

"Don't tell me you've gotten soft in the years I've been gone," Rebekah replied, watching with crossed arms as Letti poured herself another drink. She raised her brows in question, halfheartedly wondering where her vicious sister had gone. But for Letti, she'd never left. "You used to be the fun one."

"I'm still the fun one, but there's a method to the madness, sister," Letti said, her lips pulling up slightly. She looked at Elena, the expression on her face now changed given the way Rebekah had spoken to her. "My sister tells me she invited you over to talk, and given your mention of Mikael, I assume you aren't here to chat about homecoming hair. So, what do you want to know?"

Elena wasn't sure whether or not to feel intimidated by Letti. Naturally, she was—Letti was a thousand-year-old vampire capable of ending her life in a flash. Her calm demeanor was a stark contrast with Rebekah's rather expressive nature that provided Elena only the slightest comfort in her presence among the siblings. But beneath her nonchalant exposure was a confidence that made Elena feel uneasy, intensified by the sharpness of her gaze that just barely concealed the flickering flames of frustration and longing dancing in her crystal irises.

"I wanna know your story," Elena answered, glancing between Letti and Rebekah with curious brown eyes. "Elijah said your father was a landowner in Europe. How did you guys end up here?"

"Our parents had just started a family when a plague struck their homeland," Rebekah began to explain. "They lost a child to it. They wanted to escape and protect their future family from the same fate."

"So, how did you end up here?" Elena asked again. "This part of the world hadn't even been discovered yet."

"That's what your history books have told you," Letti answered her, walking over to sit on the couch. She swirled the bourbon in her glass and took a sip, patting the seat next to her. Elena was apprehensive but eventually walked over, sitting down beside Letti, but leaving ample space between the two. "Our mother knew a witch, Ayana, who heard from the spirits of a mystical land where everyone was healthy—blessed by the gifts of speed and strength."

"Mother couldn't resist the allure of a fresh start," Rebekah said, settling gracefully into the armchair opposite them. The soft creak of the leather beneath her was the only sound as she crossed her legs and clasped her hands in her lap. "So, that decision led our family here, to this very place, where we lived among them."

"The werewolves?" Elena asked, her curiosity sharpening her tone.

Rebekah's eyes flitted toward Letti, a subtle yet meaningful glance that spoke volumes. Elena noticed the unspoken exchange but chose not to question it. Letti remained silent, sipping her drink as though the memories Rebekah was unearthing were delicate glass ornaments threatening to shatter.

"To us, they were just our neighbors," Rebekah continued, her voice softer now, as if the weight of the past was pressing down on her. "Our family lived in peace with them for over twenty years, during which time Mother had more children. Including the two of us."

Elena blinked, her disbelief evident. "You make it sound...so normal."

"It was normal," Rebekah insisted, though a shadow passed over her face. For a moment, she seemed far away, lost in the echoes of a life untouched by betrayal and bloodshed. The kind of life that no longer existed.

Letti couldn't help the bitter chuckle that escaped her. Reliving the dark details of that part of her life, after all of the lies and deceit had been uncovered was an irony not lost on Letti. Her family's entire life had now become nothing more than a historical anecdote for the doppelgänger and her friends, a means of justification in their decision to wake the only person in the world with the drive and ability to destroy them all.

"Until it wasn't," Letti added quietly, the weight of her words hanging in the air. She felt a flicker of empathy for Elena, who seemed caught between fascination and horror. "We'd retreat to the caves beneath our village once a month. The wolves would howl through the night, and by the morning we would return home."

The slightest frown pulled at Letti's lips as she recalled the memory she knew to be on Rebekah's mind as well, the morning the fate of their family changed forever. The morning they discovered they'd lost their baby brother Henrik.

Letti recalled the anguish she felt upon seeing Klaus carry his lifeless body into the village. The sound of Klaus's cries ripped through the village, a sound Letti would never forget. Henrik's clothes had been shredded, and he was covered in blood. She knew what had happened the moment she saw him. He'd been killed by the wolves, and Klaus's guilt threatened to destroy him.

"One full moon, Klaus and our youngest brother, Henrik, snuck out to watch the men turn to beasts," Rebekah continued, her voice trembling as she recalled the painful memory. "That was forbidden. And Henrik paid the price."

"That was the beginning of the end for us," Letti said, taking a swig of her drink, her gaze fixed on her near-empty glass.

"It was also one of the last moments our family had together as humans," Rebekah added, glancing over at Letti, noting the emotional toll the recollection took on her sister despite her efforts to conceal it.

Elena's phone began to ring, pulling the sisters out of their emotional trance. Letti got up from her seat and walked over to grab more bourbon, longing for the intoxicating burn that might dull the sting of their conversation. It wasn't exactly how she anticipated spending her day, but Letti hoped Elena would let loose what they were really up to. She hoped the doppelgänger would reveal whether or not Damon Salvatore was to be trusted a moment longer.

After several more minutes of conversation, Elena was up-to-date on how the predatory species was born. Rebekah had provided every drawn-out detail, while Letti sipped her bourbon and listened intently. Until the conversation shifted back to Mikael, and the reason he began hunting their brother. She couldn't not indulge her.

"The night Klaus made his first human kill, it triggered his werewolf gene," Letti's voice cut through the quiet, weighted with an unmistakable bitterness that drew all attention to her. Rebekah had left this part of the story for her to tell, knowing how much heavier it sat on her shoulders. "With that, we became our father's greatest shame."

"Yeah...Elijah told me this part," Elena said, oblivious to the significance of Letti's final word. Her brows knit as she pieced things together. "Your mother...she had an affair with one of the werewolf villagers. Klaus wasn't Mikael's son."

"Nor was I his daughter," Letti revealed, her voice steady but brimming with quiet defiance. The room seemed to still, the gravity of her words settling heavily between them. Elena's eyes widened, her breath catching in her throat at the unexpected revelation. It was as though the missing piece of a puzzle had fallen into place—a truth she hadn't seen coming but now couldn't unsee.

Elena shifted uncomfortably, grappling with what she'd just learned. The ancient carvings in the caverns hadn't alluded to this, but now it made sense—Letti's quiet restraint, the way she never flaunted her nature as Klaus did.

"You're a hybrid too," Elena murmured, her voice barely above a whisper, laced with disbelief and, perhaps, quiet horror. The thought that their mother's betrayal had set them all on a path of ruin was too tragic to fully comprehend.

"The one and only," Letti chuckled softly, though the sound didn't quite reach her eyes. She raised her glass and took a slow sip, her demeanor surprisingly nonchalant despite the heavy conversation. "Well, sort of."

"So, your mother did this to Mikael more than once?" Elena's brow furrowed deeply as she tried to wrap her head around the full extent of their mother's betrayal.

"Of course," Letti replied with a casual shrug, though there was an undercurrent of something sharper beneath her nonchalance. "But all it took was once to give her the two of us. You see, Niklaus is more than just my brother. He's my twin."

The weight of her revelation hung in the air, dense and inescapable. Elena's jaw slackened, her disbelief evident as her mind raced to rearrange everything she thought she knew. She had assumed their mother's affair had resulted in two separate secrets—a pair of unrelated betrayals—but this? This was something else entirely.

Twin flames born of forbidden love. The pieces fell into place with startling clarity as Elena's thoughts unraveled: their names, their striking resemblance to one another, so much stronger than any similarity they shared with their other siblings. It had been right in front of her all along, yet she'd never seen it.

Niklaus and Nikoleta. The twins. The hybrids.

An array of different thoughts and questions began to plague Elena's mind. With the revelation of Letti's hybrid nature, Elena expected her to be the vicious, murderous creature Klaus was. Yet, despite the turmoil reflected in her eyes—eyes that hinted at her potential for danger—she wasn't. Letti was deadly, that wasn't to be ignored, but she embodied a different kind of threat. She didn't thrive on control or manipulation the way Klaus did. She didn't yearn for the same power or instill the same fear her brother did. But that didn't mean she was to be underestimated, and Elena knew that.

But that raised the question of what the sisters might do were the group to follow through with their plan to kill Klaus. Elena knew that Klaus kept his siblings daggered on and off throughout the centuries, Rebekah being one of them. Of course, she wasn't well-versed on Letti's history with Klaus, as she knew hybrids couldn't be daggered, but that only opened the door to more turmoil brewing between them. Elena wondered if it would be enough for her to help them. But that wasn't a question she needed answered at the moment. She needed to figure out a way to make them want to help.

"Our mother tried to make it right," Rebekah said, flashing her eyes over to Letti, whose brows were furrowed as the memories flooded her mind—the betrayal, the rejection, the anguish.

"If making it right entailed stripping us of our birthright and abandoning us thereafter, then yes, she made it right," Letti said, disdain creeping into her voice as she cast a sharp look at her sister. She quickly composed herself and looked back at Elena, who held empathy in her eyes. "Mikael's greatest weakness as a human was always his pride, which was only magnified as a vampire. Learning of our mother's indiscretions enraged him. He went on a rampage and killed half the village."

"And when he was done, he came home and killed her," Rebekah added, her frown deepening as the memory surfaced, the weight of it etched into every line of her face.

"Mikael killed your mother?" Elena's voice wavered, her disbelief clear in the wide-eyed look she gave them.

"He said she broke his heart, so he would break hers," Rebekah answered, the sadness in her voice thick, like an old wound reopened. Her gaze dropped for a moment before lifting again, her eyes glassy. "He tore her heart from her chest while Nik watched."

Elena's breath hitched at the horrifying image. The sheer brutality of it settled heavily in the room, an unbearable silence pressing down on them. Letti's jaw tensed, her hand tightening instinctively around her glass.

Letti still felt the grief of her mother's death, but even heavier was the weight of her betrayal. The woman that birthed her and nurtured her had in the end allowed her own children to reap the consequences of her actions. She did not mourn for the loss of her mother the same way Rebekah did.

"Mikael took off shortly after," Letti continued, gulping down the rest of her drink. She stood with the empty glass, twirling her finger around the rim. "The rest of our family scattered, but Rebekah, Klaus, Elijah, and I stayed to bury our mother."

"Even after everything she had done, you still made sure I got the chance to say goodbye to her," Rebekah recalled, her tone light as the weight of her brother's and sister's love washed over her. "Both of you."

"And I would do it again for you, Rebekah." Letti looked up for a moment, her eyes flashing with a certain softness she'd only ever reserved for her siblings. "We made a promise."

"Always and forever," Rebekah echoed, a small smile pulling at the corners of her lips.

Elena watched the two, intrigued by the depths of their bond. There was humanity there, and a surprising amount of it. It made her curious as to how the two of them could even stand by someone who lacked so much.

"Always and forever?" Elena questioned, skepticism lacing her tone. "Even though he locked you in a coffin for ninety years? And I can't even imagine what he's done to you, Letti."

"Do not presume to know my relationship with my brother, doppelgänger," Letti warned, that same intimidating edge in her eyes returning, causing Elena to cower back. "Rest assured, you know nothing."

"As vampires, all of our emotions are heightened," Rebekah explained to Elena, sending a smirk to her attitudinal sister. "I'm stubborn, Elijah moral, and this one"—she gestured to Letti—"believe it or not, is empathetic. Klaus, on the other hand, has no tolerance for those who disappoint him."

"Don't we know it," Letti muttered only loud enough for Rebekah to hear. She walked over to make herself another drink as Elena and Rebekah continued the conversation.

"Over a thousand years as a family, we've all made that mistake at least once," Rebekah told Elena, a hint of regret in her tone. "I've made it several times."

"As have I, but I learned the hard way daggers don't work on hybrids," Letti breathed out, taking a hefty swig of her bourbon. The emotion she'd dredged up was beginning to overwhelm her, and she was desperate to calm it, desperate to maintain her cool demeanor.

"But you both still love him?" Elena asked, genuinely curious to know. She couldn't imagine still loving someone like Klaus. He was selfish, destructive, and cared not about the consequences of his actions. He didn't care who he hurt, even if those he hurt were his family.

But to Rebekah and Letti, that was what he was—family. He was their big brother, and even though he'd spent centuries being less than kind to them, they couldn't help but love him. They made a promise, and they stood by it.

"He's our brother," Rebekah told her, as if the answer was obvious. Elena had her own brother, one she loved dearly and would do anything for. How were they so different? "Would you rather us spend an eternity alone instead?"

It was then Rebekah seemed to snap out of her trance. She quickly ended the conversation, alerting Elena it was time for her to leave. Letti watched the two as she poured more bourbon into her glass.

"I'm just looking for one good reason why we shouldn't wake Mikael," Elena demanded, her tone sharp as her gaze locked on Rebekah. The tension between them crackled like a live wire.

"And l've given you a thousand!" Rebekah snapped, her frustration spilling over as she took a step forward, her eyes blazing. "But you will anyway. I know you want him to help you kill my brother. I'm not stupid."

"It's no secret that I want Klaus dead," Elena shot back, defiance etched into every word. "He has a hold over Stefan's life—and over mine!"

Elena's unwavering stance might have intimidated others, but it did little to sway the sisters. Letti, who had been quietly observing from the sidelines, moved forward with a slow, deliberate grace, the amber liquid in her glass swirling as she approached.

"Wake Mikael at your own peril," Rebekah warned, her voice low and deadly, each word laced with venom. Her eyes locked onto Elena's, unblinking. "But make no mistake—if you come after my brother, I will rip you apart."

"And I'll be right by her side to help," Letti added smoothly, stepping closer until she was just behind Elena. She leaned in, her voice sharp as a blade as it brushed against the doppelgänger's ear. "Different Niklaus and I may be, but if you wake my father and he succeeds in his hunt for my brother, you'll find out just how alike we truly are."

Elena's breath hitched, her resolve wavering under the weight of Letti's words.

"It's time for you to leave," Rebekah said firmly, her tone final.

Elena swallowed hard, casting a wary glance between the sisters before turning toward the door. The heavy silence followed her exit until the door slammed shut behind her with a resounding thud.

Rebekah let out a breath, her shoulders finally easing as though the doppelgänger's absence allowed her to relax. But Letti noticed the flicker of concern in her sister's eyes—the subtle, unspoken fear that came with knowing the lengths their enemies were willing to go.

Letti, however, was simmering with something entirely different—aggravation. Damon had always intended to kill Klaus, no matter what he'd said to her, no matter the promises they'd hinted at in their quiet conversations. She'd held onto a fragile hope that he might understand her perspective, that he might see the value in another way. Instead, he'd played her, pretending to listen, pretending to care, all the while plotting his betrayal.

He thought she was a fool.

He was about to find out just how wrong he was.

"What are we supposed to do?" Rebekah's voice cut through the air, breaking the silence between the two. "She came here to listen to our story, to understand why Mikael cannot be allowed to roam the Earth. Yet after everything we've told her, it wasn't enough?"

"She'll do what she wants anyway, just as you said," Letti replied, now too intoxicated to allow herself to get too worked up over the current situation. "And I have the strangest feeling they'll let her. She seems like the type to always get what she wants."

Rebekah, noticing her sister's aloof and intoxicated state walked over and ripped the glass from her hand, crushing it in her bare hands. "You're drunk," Rebekah stated, her tone filled with contempt. Of course, her intoxication wouldn't last long, and Letti was known to indulge more than she often should because of such, but at the moment Rebekah needed her levelheaded big sister.

"I'm always drunk." Letti shrugged it off as if it were no big deal. She watched the shards of glass fall to the floor, but didn't move to make another drink. She figured she would just go grab one. She was due for a bite to eat anyway.

"I understand that you drink away the pain that our brother has put you through for the past thousand years, but we cannot just sit back and allow him to be killed, Nikoleta," Rebekah chastised her, the use of her full name letting her know she was being more than serious.

"And what is it you propose we do, Rebekah?" Letti shot back. "Kill them all and spend the next century running from our father? I'd rather take a stake through the heart."

The words did nothing to ease Rebekah's mood. In fact, they only made it worse. She couldn't deny the aggravation she felt towards Letti, but it wasn't too unusual for the two to have their little spats. Being the only two sisters in a family full of brothers, it was inevitable.

"This isn't a joke, Letti!" Rebekah exclaimed. "Unless that's all our survival is to you now? All Nik's is?"

"You're right! It isn't a joke!" Letti agreed, though her voice was raised as the tension between the sisters continued to grow. "Mikael will wake and come for Klaus, but we have spent centuries running. I am done running. And I'm done being afraid. So let him come, and I will personally rip him apart. Along with anyone that tries to stop me. Including the Salvatore brothers and their precious little doppelgänger.

"But understand this, sister," Letti continued, leaning closer to her sister, the smell of bourbon strong on her breath. Rebekah couldn't get past the venom lacing her tone, however. "I will do whatever it takes to protect Niklaus, just as I would for any of you. Question the integrity of my intentions again, and I will tear your tongue from your throat."

With that threat, Letti simply turned and headed for the front door, leaving Rebekah at the mercy of her emotions. There were three people on the planet that Rebekah feared. One was her father, and the other two were the twins. Letti was the kinder of the two. She didn't hunt her siblings to the end of the Earth or leave them locked in coffins for centuries on end. But her temper was absolutely that of a hybrid's. It always had been. Rebekah had seen Letti do many heinous things across the centuries. She'd spilled her fair share of blood, as had they all, but there was something in the way Letti maintained such a nonchalance about her actions, yet remained a clear and obvious threat. She kept her word as well, which was why Rebekah knew the threat she just received was not an empty one.

Letti was making her way back to the town square. She was hungry and drunk, but at the same time desperate for another drink. She soon stumbled upon the glowing lights of Mystic Falls and headed for the Grill, where she followed a local into the alley. She approached him quickly and swiftly, her eyes meeting his as she placed him against the wall. He was terrified, likely due to the pulsing veins beneath her golden eyes. But Letti knew how to fix that.

"Don't be afraid," she compelled him, her voice calm despite her growing hunger. "This will only take a moment."

Her fingers tightened against his shoulders, and without further hesitation, Letti leaned in. The moment her fangs pierced his skin, warmth flooded her senses. His blood poured into her mouth, quenching the fire in her throat with each greedy pull. She savored it—the tang of iron mixed with the sweetness of life itself—feeling her strength return with every drop she swallowed.

The world around her seemed to blur as she fed, her focus narrowing to the rhythm of his heartbeat, the thud growing weaker beneath her fingertips. She was careful, though—she always was. She drank just enough, stopping before the man grew too pale, before his pulse faded too far.

Letti retracted her fangs, her lips stained crimson as she pulled away, watching his glassy eyes flutter in a daze. She gently released him, straightening his clothes as if nothing had happened.

"Go home," she murmured, her voice once again slipping into his mind. "Forget this ever happened."

He nodded weakly and stumbled away, none the wiser to the predator that had just fed on him in the shadows of the sleepy little town.

Letti wiped her mouth clean, preparing to head into the Grill for a glass of bourbon, when she felt a familiar presence behind her. She turned slowly, her burning eyes meeting the icy blue gaze of Damon Salvatore's. Her anger from earlier flared up inside her once more, and she had to fight to keep her composure. It was hard to when the only thing she wanted to do was wipe the pretty smirk off his face.

"Poor guy never knew what hit him," Damon joked, but Letti was not in a joking mood.

"What do you want, Damon?" Letti asked, frustration seeping through her tone.

"Haven't seen you since you ditched me this morning," Damon chuckled, electing to ignore the obvious frustration in Letti's voice. After everything he'd learned today about her and her family, he was desperate to maintain the peace. He needed her on their side. Sure, Mikael was a strong contender in their plot against Klaus, something he'd made quite evident when he threatened Stefan and Damon hours prior, but he'd learned Letti was something else altogether: Klaus's greatest weakness. And Damon knew her influence would either make or break their plan.

"So, you came looking for me? Why?" Letti scoffed, not in the mood for pleasantries.

"Can't a guy check in on a friend?" Damon said with his trademark smirk. He acted so casual, as if he hadn't spent the day plotting behind Letti's back. It was almost laughable, though not in an amusing way.   

"We aren't friends, Damon," Letti snapped, turning the leave the alley. But before she could walk away, Damon whooshed in front of her, blocking her exit with ease. She stopped mid-stride, her expression growing rather impatient as she stood in front of him.

"C'mon, I don't have many friends—"

"Maybe there's a reason why," Letti cut him off, her voice growing colder. "Excuse me."

But Damon wasn't ready to let her go just yet. He reached for her wrist, and Letti spun back around, her eyes ablaze with something more dangerous than just frustration. With lightning speed, Letti slammed him against the brick wall, her fist wrapped around his throat, pinning him in place.

"What do you want, Salvatore?" Letti's voice was sharp, pressing Damon further into the wall. He winced beneath the pressure, but she didn't loosen her grip. "I don't have time for your games."

"No...games," Damon forced out through staggered breaths. "Just...checking...up."

With a low hum of dissatisfaction, Letti dropped Damon to the ground. She stood over him, watching with disinterest as he tried to catch his breath.

"If you must know," she said, crossing her arms over her chest, "I've been holed up with your pretty little doppelgänger. She didn't seem to have a clue who I was. I'm surprised you or Stefan didn't tell her."

Damon raised an eyebrow, pulling himself from the ground, his tone casual but probing. "C'mon, if we're being honest here, I still don't know who you are. But I did find out something interesting today that put me one step closer to figuring it out..."

"And what might that be, Damon?" Letti questioned, her eyes narrowed as she stared him down.

"You're a hybrid, Letti," Damon answered, his tone light but apprehensive as he continued his approach. "And not just any hybrid. You're Klaus's twin sister."

Letti took a deep breath, swallowing her initial impulse to lash out again. There was no doubt in her mind that Elena dropped that bit of information on him. And she probably couldn't wait to either. Letti raised an eyebrow, masking her irritation with indifference. "What difference does it make?" she asked with a flat tone, wanting nothing more than to be done with the conversation.

"It makes a hell of a difference!" Damon took another step closer, his eyes searching hers for something, anything, beyond her calm exterior. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because it doesn't matter!" Letti shot him a sharp look, the vulnerability beneath her nonchalance flickering to the surface. She couldn't understand everyone's obsession with hybrids. And those obsessions were bred out of fear for Klaus, rather than the desire to understand the species itself, or the cruelty that birthed it. "I'm not the same frenzied murderer my brother is. I don't use that part of me to control or manipulate others. But that's all it is—it's a part of me. It's not me. I'm still Letti. That's all that matters. That's all that's ever mattered."

Damon's expression hardened, his frustration matching hers. "What matters is what we're up against!" Damon closed the distance between the two of them, staring down at her with serious eyes. But Letti's held a darkness, an edge, that almost made him want to shy away.

"What you're up against?" Letti's voice was low, threatening even. "I wanted to trust you, Damon. I understand what Klaus has done. I've been on the receiving end of his brutality for a thousand years, but I told you we would find a way to put him down without killing him, and you played me for a fool. You lied. I know you're conspiring with the doppelgänger to kill my brother. She alluded to as much."

Damon rolled his eyes and turned away from Letti, beginning a slow pace back and forth across the concrete that grated her nerves. "How could you possibly still want him alive after everything he's done to you?"

That was the breaking point. Why did those who barely knew her always assume they understood even a fraction of what bound her to Klaus? "You know nothing of what he's done to me!" she spat, her voice raw with fury as she lunged forward, slamming Damon against the cold brick wall. Her fingers curled around his throat, tighter than before, a vice of unrelenting strength. His pulse hammered beneath her grip, his struggle desperate but futile against the centuries that had honed her power.

"I see it...in your...eyes," Damon choked out, his breath ragged, each word a battle.

His gaze, however, remained steady, laced with an unsettling understanding that cut through the haze of her rage.
For a fleeting moment, Letti's grip wavered, the crack in her carefully constructed armor exposed like a raw nerve. But the hesitation was fleeting. She forced the weakness down, tightening her hold until the flicker of vulnerability was buried beneath the weight of her fury, where it belonged.

"You see nothing," Letti said, her voice quieter now, a dangerous edge slicing through the stillness. She released Damon, and he collapsed to the ground in a harsh thud, coughing raggedly as he gulped in air, the rasp of his breath grating against the silence. "You know nothing."

"I know he killed your mother," Damon said, his voice cutting through the air like a blade. The weight of his words froze her in place, tension coiling in her shoulders like a drawn bowstring.

"What did you just say to me?" Letti asked, her voice barely above a whisper, laced with something that sounded dangerously close to disbelief—an emotion she rarely allowed herself to feel.

"The stories etched into the walls," Damon continued, rising shakily to his feet, his gaze locked onto hers, searching, prying. "One of them shows the hybrid killing the witch." His voice was softer now, but unwavering. "But I know that wasn't you."

And it wasn't. Despite everything she had done, Letti still loved her mother, an emotion that was only magnified after she was turned into a vampire. Her love and anguish coexisted with one another, resulting in a rather complex battle of emotions. But Letti would never hurt her mother, let alone murder her in cold blood.

But the idea that Klaus would was not lost on Letti. She vehemently denied it, however, unable to believe her brother would do something of such nature and proceed to blame their father. But there was a part of her, the part of her that knew her brother better than anyone ever could, that knew he would. The realization of such was devastating, and as Damon watched her walls break down as the information settled into the confines of her mind, he couldn't help but feel bad for her.

"Letti," Damon spoke carefully, not wanting to rile her up anymore than she already was. But the sound of her name only pulled Letti from her thoughts, her eyes filling with anger as they flashed to Damon.

"You know not of what you speak," Letti said, her voice low, but wavering. It was clear she was struggling to believe Damon's words, to reject the idea that her brother could have committed such a crime. But doubt gnawed at her, creeping into her heart. "He wouldn't...he couldn't..."

She was no longer trying to convince Damon—she was trying to convince herself. Her chest tightened, and the world seemed to tilt around her as the weight of the truth began to settle in. Klaus killed our mother. The thought sent a wave of devastation crashing over her.

Her heart was breaking. Everything Klaus had done to her washed over her like a tsunami wave, threatening to pull her into the dark depths. Klaus killed their mother and lied about it. He'd linked Letti to him without consent and turned her into a hybrid of his own accord, effectively stripping her of her autonomy and her choice. She spent centuries watching those she loved—friends and lovers alike—lose their lives to Klaus's cruelty simply because they chose to care for Letti. She felt the pain of every single stake he'd driven through her heart. She recalled the centuries of abuse and manipulation. She was trapped within the unbreakable shackles that bound her to her twin in disregard of her own desire for freedom.

All of it was too much.

Letti's breath hitched as the realization settled in. He killed her. He lied to me, to us. The weight of Klaus's betrayal, spanning centuries, hit her with the force of a tidal wave. She blinked rapidly, trying to fight back the tears threatening to spill from her eyes. Letti never cried. She couldn't afford to.

But this time, the grief was too much. A single tear slipped down her cheek before she could stop it.

Damon, watching her, was momentarily stunned. He had seen pain in her eyes before, sensed the struggle she kept buried beneath her tough exterior. But he hadn't expected this—a crack so deep, it exposed her raw, unguarded emotion.

Letti quickly wiped at her face, trying to regain her composure, but the dam had already broken. More tears followed, slipping down her cheeks despite her best efforts to hold them back.

"Letti..." Damon's voice softened as he stepped closer. For a moment, he didn't know what to do. Comforting people wasn't his strong suit, but seeing her like this tugged at something deep within him.

She let out a shaky breath, hating herself for falling apart, for showing him this side of her. But the pain was overwhelming. "He lied to me...after everything..." she whispered, her voice breaking.

Damon hesitated only for a second before he reached out, placing a hand on her arm. It was a simple gesture, but in that moment, it was enough.

Letti's walls, the ones she had spent centuries building, crumbled in that instant. Unsure of what drove his actions, Damon pulled her into a gentle embrace, her forehead resting against his shoulder. She let the tears fall freely now, her body trembling as the years of anguish, betrayal, and hurt finally broke free. Damon held her, offering no empty words, just the comfort of his presence. He understood the need to release it all without judgment, and for once, he didn't try to fix it or make a joke to ease the tension. He just let her be.

Letti was surprised by how much comfort she found in Damon's arms. The walls she had built over the years, strong and unyielding, had protected her from pain, from vulnerability, from letting anyone in. She wasn't one to allow people close—especially after losing everyone she had ever cared about, most at the hands of her brother. But with Damon, it felt disturbingly easy. Too terrifyingly easy.

Here, pressed against his chest, she felt a flicker of something dangerous. The urge to expose the darkest parts of herself, to let him see the weight she carried, lingered in her mind. Maybe, just maybe, he would understand. He had shown that much already. But Letti knew better. Letting him in would only sign his death sentence. And she couldn't allow that. Klaus had already taken so much from her—too much. She couldn't put herself in the position for him to take more.

So, Letti collected herself and pulled away from Damon, crossing her arms over her chest after wiping her face free of tears. Just like that, her cool demeanor was back as if it'd never left. There was no more evidence of her tears apart from the subtle redness in her eyes. It was as if their conversation had never happened, and Damon couldn't explain why it bothered him to see her resort back to that carefully crafted facade of hers.

"Thanks for the therapy session," Letti quipped, her tone light, but lacking the true humor it once had. She ran a hand through her tousled hair, the gesture casual, though there was still an air of tension lingering between them.

Damon raised an eyebrow, sensing the shift but unwilling to let her slip back into her guarded state without saying something. "You sure you're okay?" he asked, voice softer than usual, the sarcasm he often relied on absent for once.

Letti offered a small smile, but it didn't reach her eyes. "I'm always okay, Damon. You know that." Her words were delivered with the same cool confidence she had perfected over centuries, but even now, Damon could see the cracks beneath the surface—the small fracture in her mask that hadn't quite healed.

"That's not exactly convincing," he shot back, a hint of frustration creeping into his voice. He wasn't used to caring this much, especially for someone he'd known a little over a week, and the fact that he did was unsettling. "You don't have to pretend with me, Letti."

Letti tilted her head slightly, studying him as if trying to gauge his sincerity. There was a part of her that wanted to believe him, to let her guard down for more than just a fleeting moment. But she couldn't. Not with Damon. "I'm not pretending. I've been doing this a long time." She straightened her posture, a silent indication that the conversation was over. "Besides, this isn't about me. We both know who the real problem is."

Damon ran a hand through his hair, exhaling in frustration. "You're talking about Klaus."

Letti's eyes darkened at the mention of her brother's name. "Of course I'm talking about Klaus," she said, her voice hardening. "He's the reason I can't..." She trailed off, catching herself before she said too much. "He's the reason for all of this."

Damon didn't push her further, but the silence between them was thick with unspoken words. He knew there was more, so much more beneath the surface of Letti's cool exterior, but for now, he had to let her keep it there.

"Well, if you ever need another therapy session," he said with a smirk, trying to break the tension, "you know where to find me."

Letti chuckled softly, the sound more genuine this time. "I'll keep that in mind." She took a step back, the distance between them a reminder that while they had shared a moment of vulnerability, it was fleeting.

With a final glance at Damon, Letti turned and headed for the alley stairs, her posture strong, her demeanor calm. But inside, she could still feel the weight of everything—the truth she couldn't escape, the pain she couldn't fully bury. And Damon, though he didn't know the full extent of her struggles, could sense it too.

As he watched Letti disappear into the night, Damon couldn't shake the nagging feeling creeping into his chest. He wasn't supposed to feel like this. Not after everything that'd happened with Elena, not after trying and failing to win her over only to be rejected. This was different—unfamiliar in a way that made him uneasy. He wasn't supposed to care, but the weight of watching Letti walk away pressed harder than it ever had with anyone, even Elena. For the first time in what felt like a long time, she was becoming the someone he didn't want to let go.