TWENTY-SIX | THE FATE OF OPHELIA

xxvi. control

OPHELIA HAD DEALT WITH DEATH her entire life. She had been surrounded by it from the second she had taken her first breath. She didn't know what life was like without it. First, it was her birth parents. Although, she had only been a baby then, so perhaps that's why she didn't have much recollection of the car crash she had miraculously survived. At six years old, she had been the cause of death for her adopted parents. In her defence, she hated them. Hate wasn't a strong enough word. It never was, and never would be. There would never be one she could use that would accurately describe the emotions she harboured for them.

To trigger the curse of her werewolf gene, she had to kill someone—accidental or not, or simply being at the scene of a death. Because her parents weren't instantly taken to the afterlife on impact in the car crash, she was never with them at their side while they passed away. Up until the gene was triggered, the cursed would experience heightened mood swings around the time of a full moon, uncontrollable anger and violent tendencies, and an enhanced collection of abilities ranging from strength to hearing.

In Ophelia's advantage, her adoptive parents had no clue what their 'child' was going through. They never cared enough to ask, but it's not like she would have told them even if they did. The night her adoptive father struck her arm with the belt a little too harshly, the full moon meant far less to them than it should have. She struck back in retaliation, finally shoving him back with an inhumane amount of strength and grabbed a kitchen knife to stab him repeatedly until she was blinded by the blood coating her eyelashes. Her so called 'mother,' well, she was just collateral damage.

Taken in by an Original vampire and his family didn't make things any easier. They quite literally survived off blood. It meant that after a year or so of living with Niklaus Mikaelson, seeing a body drop to the floor meant nothing of significance to Ophelia. She had become so numb to the idea of death that she was neither bothered nor unbothered by it.

Death had always been her living. In a truthful way, it really was. Vampires had to die to become their true selves, so she walked upon the Earth as a dead, rotting soul. Her heart still beats, her blood still pumps, she still functions as a normal human being; the only difference that she had actually died.

Every time someone close to Ophelia passed away—Finn back in Mystic Falls, her siblings temporarily incapacitated by a dagger dipped with White Oak ash, or even a rare friend—she never properly grieved. Grief is meant to be processed in seven stages. Throughout the seventeen years that she had been alive, Ophelia had dealt with one or two of the stages at most. Each time, she got stuck on the same one.

Denial.

Ophelia became so good at avoiding the matter of the significant deaths occurring around her that she eventually just moved on. Of course, she never really moved on. Kol was just another death that would never properly sink in.

Based on what Freya had been telling her, she and Rebekah had promised to find ways to resurrect him. It gave Ophelia an immense amount of hope. Hope is a dangerous thing. Especially when the promise isn't as realistic as it's dealt out to be.

To give Ophelia hope is like making a deal with Lucifer herself. It either goes exceptionally well, or catastrophically wrong. Most of the Mikaelson family had been around to see both. They'd seen enough of the latter to know that it was in everyone's best interest to avoid it from happening as much as they possibly could. If there really wasn't a way to bring Kol back... Klaus didn't want to think about what his sister could come to be.

"Ophelia. Ophelia!"

Blinking quickly, she snaps herself out of the daydream she had found herself in and her eyes dart over to the front of the classroom. "Sorry," she mumbles in apology.

Despite the countless suggestions to stay home from, well, everyone who knew about him, she had dragged herself along to school. The one place she hates more than anything. Stiles had asked to check for her temperature upon arrival.

Jennifer Blake nods. But her heart jumps as soon as she meets the green irises of the girl who had so heartlessly slaughtered the werewolf from the other night. "It's all right," she says, voice quieter now. "Do you need to go to the nurse's office?"

Ophelia's eyebrows furrow in confusion as she straightens in her chair. "No, sorry, why would I?" she asks.

The woman stumbles over her words, unable to form a coherent sentence. "I, uh, I—never mind."

When Jennifer walks back toward the blackboard, Lydia leans forward slightly over her desk to whisper to her friend seated in front, "I don't need to hear her heart to know she's terrified of you."

At this, Ophelia's lips curl into a satisfied smirk. "Good! She should be terrified to know I'll kill her if she hurts the pocketful of sunshine." Even after learning Derek and Jennifer are having... relations... it doesn't change how she despises her English teacher. She still doesn't have an actual reason just yet, but then again, does she really need a valid reason to hate someone?

Just out the corner of her eye, she can see Scott roll his eyes. "Fi, please don't let her hear you say that," he mumbles. The response he receives is a middle finger sent his way, causing him to cover his eyes in defeat and sigh.

"Idioms, analogies, metaphors, and similes..." Jennifer turns back to the class with a small, rather awkward smile on her face, and begins to walk up and down the rows to check on her students' work progress so far in the lesson. "All the tools the writer uses to tell their story." She stops by Lydia and her brows raise in surprise at whatever is being drawn in the notebook. "Lydia, I wasn't aware you had so many hidden talents...?"

Humming in agreement, the girl in question looks up from her book and makes brief eye contact with their teacher. "You and every guy I've ever dated."

Ophelia loudly snorts and purses her lips tightly together to avoid laughter leaving them when she realises majority of the class is now looking at her. Lydia bites onto her lip, a smile making its way onto her face at how she had managed to bring her friend a moment of happiness, even though it was only for a few seconds.

Jennifer clears her throat to try and pass off Lydia's response. "Oh. Um, well, that was an idiom by the way..." Whilst speaking, her eyes subtly move between Ophelia, Stiles, and Scott; the boys uncomfortably shifting in their seats, while the former stares back with a blank face. Swallowing dryly, Miss Blake makes a mental note to avoid any and all future confrontation with Ophelia Stone. "Idioms are something of a secret to the people who know the language or the culture. They're phrases that only make sense if you know key words."

"This is so boring," Ophelia whispers to herself. She unsheathes a claw to begin engraving into the surface of her desk and makes a pointed effort to ignore the wide eyes Scott gives her to stop. He places his head into his hands when he hears her low growl. What's an added charge of property damage in the larger scheme of things?

Since the pack had learnt of the death within the Mikaelson family earlier that day, they had been walking on eggshells around their friend throughout the halls of the high school. Even more so than normally. They're all (more so Scott) worried that she would explode at any given second, exactly like a ticking time bomb. Which is exactly what she is, a bomb. Despite telling them that she's fine and there's nothing to worry about, Ophelia had been unconsciously making it painfully obvious to everyone around her that things are in fact not fine.

"Saying 'jump the gun' is meaningful only if you know about starting gun in a race," Jennifer continues. "Or a phrase like, 'seeing the whole board.'"

"Like chess," Stiles quietly comments.

Stopping to look at him, Miss Blake nods, a small smile pulling at her lips. "That's right, Stiles," she says. "Do you play?"

He clears his throat. "Uh, no. My father does."

"Awkward," Ophelia drawls out in a low tone. Lydia quietly chuckles in amusement and returns to her notebook.

Jennifer quickly breaks eye contact from Stiles, clearly uncomfortable, but she plays it off with another smile. "Now, when does an idiom become a cliché...?"

As the woman returns to the front of the class and stops at the blackboard, Scott tunes out her words, thinking about the much more important topic that is definitely on everyone else's minds as well as his own. "Guys," he whispers. He immediately has Ophelia's eyes locked onto the side of his face. "Stiles," Scott says impatiently. Still, the boy is twirling his pen between his fingers, completely oblivious to the conversation. "Stiles."

His ears suddenly open and his head whips around to look at his friend hissing for his attention. "Wha—What? What?"

"Calm down, no one's died," Ophelia murmurs back. "Yet. No one's died, yet." Scott sighs at her insinuation and turns further in his chair so he can lean over to speak to Stiles seated on the other side of her. Similarly, Stiles also leans over so his body is just about pressed up against Ophelia's. "Dude, seriously? Why the fuck am I in the middle? Let's just swap."

Nodding in agreement, Stiles quickly pushes her out of the chair and slips behind her desk. Realising what he's done, his eyes close. "Shit." Looking down to find Ophelia glaring daggers up at him from the floor before she returns to his previous chair, he offers her an apologetic smile. "... Sorry?"

"Whatever," she grumbles. Thankfully, Miss Blake hasn't noticed the abrupt change of seating, or if she has, she doesn't have the guts to comment on it and risk starting an argument.

"Okay, I think I can get to Ethan," Scott begins, drawing his friends' attention away from their petty bickering and to the matter at hand. "I'm pretty sure I can make him talk."

Ophelia rolls her eyes at the confidence he holds. "Scott, really? No, you can't," she denies bluntly. "I, on the other hand, definitely can. It's called torture. I was thinking about starting off wi—"

"God, no!" Scott cuts her off exasperatedly. He slumps down in his seat when realising his voice had risen a little too loudly. "No," he whispers firmly. "We are not torturing him."

Stiles purses his lips together and shrugs. "I don't know, man..." he admits. "It's a good idea."

"No!"

Keeping his voice at a whisper, Stiles backtracks to the initial point of the conversation. "Hold on, why do we want to talk to Ethan?" he questions Scott, brows furrowing.

"The Druids are emissaries, right? So, what if the Darach was an emissary to the Alphas?"

Ophelia hadn't been privy to the conversation Scott had held with Gerard at the nursing home a few days prior. Instead, she had gotten a run-down from him on what had been talked about.

The Druids were thrown out every now and again, which led to Scott explaining that some of the 'wanna-be witches' hold the responsibilities to be emissaries to certain packs, like an advisor or a guide to werewolves. She learnt that Deaton had once been an emissary to Derek's mother's pack, and how Marin Morrell is presently one for Deucalion and his remaining lackeys.

"Okay, first of all," Stiles begins. "I cannot believe we've gotten to the point where a sentence like, 'What if the Darach was an emissary to the Alphas?' actually makes sense to me."

Ophelia hums. "Neither," she agrees.

"Second of all, we're gonna have a huge problem getting to Ethan."

She raises her eyebrows at Stiles' observation but she stays silent whilst Scott asks, "What's that?"

"Going through Aiden," he concludes. The quiet clear of her throat almost immediately makes him cover his hands with his face. He knows Ophelia well enough at this point to know exactly what's running through her mind currently.

"I can help with that part," she adds in gleefully, her eyes twinkling with mischief. Scott's eyes narrow once he catches on to what she's alluding to. "I'll kill him, so then you have a clear path to Ethan! One down, one to go!"

It's honestly a miracle Jennifer Blake hasn't stopped to focus on the three of her students who look like they could be acting in a soap opera based on the various gestures and facial expressions they're making.

"All right, wait, stop," Scott tells her, brows furrowed. "Are you sure you haven't lost your humanity again?"

She seems taken aback and perhaps a little offended at the assumption. "What?" she retorts. "No! This is just me. Get used to it."

Stiles huffs a sigh after contemplating whether he should voice his opinion or not. "Okay, I hate to say it, but she might be right." Spotting the absolute horror that flashes across Scott's face, he quickly clarifies. "Not the killing part. Maybe she can just... incapacitate him for a little while."

Drumming her palms on her desk, Ophelia grins triumphantly. "Done," she states. "Deal."

As she pushes her chair back, Stiles grabs onto her wrist in confusion. "What are you doing? Class isn't over..."

"I'm going to go ki—knock out Aiden. Just like we said I would."

Before either one of the boys can protest, she grabs her bag and runs out the door, leaving Miss Blake heavily confused. "Ophelia—" The woman sighs and shakes her head briefly. She looks out to her class. "You all realise that school isn't optional, right?" A few seconds later, a blur of strawberry blonde hair follows suit after the girl who has stopped in the hallway outside upon sensing her best friend running after her. "Lydia!"

Cracking a smile, Ophelia holds her arm out for Lydia to loop them together. "Joining me to help fuck up your boyfriend?" she presumes.

Rolling her eyes fondly, Lydia glances to her only to hum in disapproval at part of the sentence. "Firstly, he's not my boyfriend. Secondly... it wouldn't be completely terrible if your fist just so happened to land on his face."

Ophelia laughs as they walk down the hall to go on the journey to find one of the Steiner twins. "That's my girl."

As they pass through a group of students making their way outside, they pause to take in Coach's yells follow the teenagers disappearing through the door. "If you don't have your collective asses outside in the next ten seconds, you'll all be running laps for the rest of your damn lives! If that doesn't kill you, I will!"

"I don't think I've ever loved someone as much as him," Ophelia admits with a giggle. Her smile quickly drops when she looks over to Lydia. "Apart from you, obviously. Oh, how did you know I was going to Aiden?"

"Seriously? You guys were talking so loudly, I'm surprised the entire class didn't hear."

"Ah, see that's where you're wrong. It's not 'you guys,' it's Stiles and Scott. Not me."

Lydia purses her lips together and gives her friend a look. "No, it's all of you." Ophelia's mouth closes before she can retort something, a threatening growl replacing any words she had planned on saying. Lydia sighs and grabs onto the girl's hand, grounding her by squeezing their fingers together in a pattern. "Breathe, okay? We're going to do this calmly, then you can punch him."

Ophelia sucks in a deep breath and nods, her eyes never once leaving the figure of the person they're looking for. "Yep, nice and calm..."

"What the fuck? What the hell was that for?" Aiden stumbles back through the open doorway of Coach's office, hands clutching his nose as the steady stream of crimson blood trickles down.

Ophelia smiles and leans back against the doorframe, her eyes meeting Lydia's briefly as she walks in and shuts the door. "Well, there's multiple reasons," she says, holding up a hand to list them off. "One, I hate you. Two, I felt like it. Three..." Her eyes squint. "I can't find a three right now, so let me get back to you."

Aiden's eyes widen and he quickly breaks out of the aftershock of the punch to take a step forward to her, his fangs baring. "You bitch—"

"Aiden," Lydia speaks up. She sets a hand on his shoulder to place herself in between the two pissed off supernatural creatures. Instantly, his eyes meet hers, and his demeanour softens ever so slightly. "We just want to talk, that's all."

He cautiously looks over to Ophelia, and she tilts her head to the side in agreement. "Sure. What she said." It's clear her words do little to reassure him.

Letting her eyes move across his face, Lydia's lips purse together as she takes a step back from him and folds her arms over her chest. "What's that look for?" she asks.

Acutely aware of daggers being sent his way, Aiden tries to ignore Ophelia and shakes his head. "Nothing," he says. "I'm just kind of surprised... You've barely talked to me since—"

"Since what?" she interjects sharply. "Since all of you tried to kill Isaac, Boyd, and Derek again? Oh, sorry! I'm missing the part on how you all let my best friend almost get murdered."

Ophelia's lips threaten to twitch into a smile at how confidently she argues back. "Thanks for the defence, Lyds, but you know I wouldn't have let her kill me. And you? Like I said a few days ago, you're all looking real obsessed with us at this point."

He sighs heavily, his gaze moving between the two before settling back onto Lydia. "I told you, that was Kali's choice," he says. "I didn't and still don't have a say."

Lydia's eyebrows pinch together as she sends her friend a confused glance. "I thought you were all Alphas," she points out.

"Yeah, well, it's not as democratic as it sounds."

Ophelia chuckles. "No, shit. Probably should've thought about that before you joined the 'Demon Wolf.'"

Keeping his eyes on Lydia, Aiden adds, "And if you're thinking we should be all filled with remorse, try and remember..." He jerks his head in the direction of the hybrid, a scowl etched onto his face as he voices his next point. "She killed Ennis."

Ophelia rolls her eyes and fiddles with the silver bangle around her wrist as she restrains herself from punching him a second time. For Lydia's sake. "All right, he killed me first," she snaps. "So he deserved it."

"What about Kali?"

Lydia gives him a look of warning, something that he doesn't notice or most likely just ignores. Ophelia brings her bottom lip between her teeth and ponders just how far she can push him until he snaps. "She deserved that, too," she says simply. "Come on, Aiden, it's not like you're all fucking saints either. Each of you killed your packs to become Alphas—"

Suddenly curious, he narrows his eyes at her. "And what about you, Ophelia," he says. "Did you kill your pack?"

Aware of how Lydia is now closely watching her, Ophelia doesn't need to worry about feeling guilty of how she might react. "Never had one," she confesses.

His face falls in surprise. "If you've never had one, why aren't you an Omega? How are you still an Alpha?"

"I'll put it into perspective for you, shall I?" Raising one hand into the air with her palm up, "Werewolves, predators." Raising the other hand into the air, "Vampires, apex predators. Following so far? Now, then come the hybrids, wonderful creatures if I don't say so myself. They're the apex of apex predators. We're the royalty of the supernatural world. Not that I wasn't already."

Both teenagers are listening attentively, equally just as interested as the other, although Aiden definitely wouldn't admit that aloud.

Lydia finally voices the question she has had on her mind since she had discovered how an Alpha comes to be. "So, did you kill someone, then?" she asks.

"Gonna have to be more specific with that question, love."

"I mean, did you kill someone to become an Alpha?"

"No. There are multiple ways to become an Alpha," Ophelia says with a small smile. She notices how Lydia releases a breath of relief that is almost unnoticeable. She suppresses her smile. "The first one is what you both know: kill one, and you take the power and the title for yourself. Some can challenge the Alpha for the title—seen it happen, rarely works, and I don't recommend. Then, there's what I had."

Aiden's eyes widen slowly as his posture straightens up in alarm. "Wait, you're not a True Alpha, are you?"

The term immediately causes her to laugh. Genuinely laugh. Being mentioned in the same sentence as a True Alpha is hilarious to her. "No, you idiot. Of course not." She shakes her head, unable to comprehend how he could have even come to assume it in the first place. "You can become an Alpha by gaining respect from your pack, so they appoint you as their leader."

The room falls silent, followed by her sigh.

"All right, I've been lying. I had a pack, once. My brother was my Alpha for a little bit until he, well, I guess he handed half of the pricks over to me. So, I had a bunch of hybrids, and he had his own."

"Klaus?" Aiden questions for clarification.

Ophelia nods. "The respect comes into play because most of them were scared shitless of me. It helps being part of a family of Originals." She smiles softly, and to the pair watching her, she looks like she's stuck in a memory for a moment. "Anyways. When we all disbanded the club, long story short... we had to kill them, one pesky fucker got away, and so I never lost the power. You would be correct to guess they were part of my pack. So, Niklaus lost his Alpha title, and I kept mine."

Lydia raises a brow at the statement, admittedly finding it hard to believe that the man she had met the other day would be content with being of a lower status to the girl one thousand years younger than him, family or not. "He's okay with it?" she asks curiously.

"Yep. Okay, this is getting far too personal and I'm feeling pretty vain with how much I'm talking about myself."

"Makes sense, I guess," Aiden says quietly.

Clasping her hands together, Ophelia stands from Coach's chair she had found herself in and looks to Lydia. "You reckon that's been long enough of a distraction?"

Shrugging in agreement, Lydia nods, both not privy to the confusion appearing on Aiden's face. "You gonna knock him out?" she presumes.

Hesitating, Ophelia studies the way he subtly shrinks away from her, his heartbeat suddenly jumping out of fear. "You know what, I reckon he's had enough physical abuse for today. Scram."

"Very mature of you," Lydia mutters quietly as he sends her a glance before quickly making his way over to the door.

"I just can't be bothered dealing with two even more pissed off twins than already."

Right before Aiden can open the door, the silence in the room is broken like a bone being cleanly snapped in half. A sharp nail scratches into the frosted glass pane of the door. But looking closer at it, it's definitely not just a nail. It belongs to a werewolf. The claw continues to mark the glass until the shape resembles a spiral, something that Ophelia quickly recognises to be the Hale pack's symbol.

"What the hell is that?" Lydia speaks up in a whisper.

"Derek," the pair reply in unison. The difference is that Aiden is visibly angered, where Ophelia is simply just annoyed.

Groaning in exasperation, the hybrid sighs at the dramatic way to get someone's attention. "'Mamma Mia, here we go again.'"

Growling, Aiden wrenches open the door to step out into the boys' locker room that is vacant of any lingering students. "Derek?" he calls out.

"Bloody hell, don't go out—"Ophelia cuts herself off with a sigh. She drags a hand down the side of her face as she knows that she'll be the one to have to fix whatever is about to kick off.

Lydia is considerably more worried than her friend, her expression pleading for the boy to stay out of harm's way. "Aiden, stop," she begs. "Please."

He continues to ignore their warnings, his eyes darting around the locker room with the hopes that he'll find the man he's looking for. "I'm right here, Derek!" he yells.

Lydia grabs onto his arm tightly, her eyes narrowing as she warns, "I'll scream..."

"You want a fight, Derek? Come and get me!"

Right at the last minute, Ophelia realises that Derek isn't here like they had initially assumed. Which if she thinks about it, really isn't surprising. Of course he wouldn't get his hands dirty himself if he had the chance. He's got his Beta wolves who would be more than happy to come and send a threat if needed.

Cora just so happens to be that person. Barrelling into the side of his body, Cora tackles Aiden to the side and forcefully slams him up against one of the lockers. With a vicious snarl leaving her lips, her claws begin to tear through his shirt as she slashes the skin of his torso.

"Fi, do something," Lydia whispers pleadingly. Ophelia takes one look at her best friend, and as much as Lydia is trying to keep her fear below the surface, it's obvious that she is frightened for Aiden's life.

With his skin now stained a deep, violent red compared to the usual pale, Cora goes for another swipe. Her wrist is caught in the air. Aiden roars, canines on display and his eyes glowing as brilliant rubies.

"I think he's about to do something," Ophelia corrects, tone flat.

Keeping his grip on her wrist, Aiden's other hand shoots out to find a place around Cora's throat, instantly managing to cut off her oxygen. Ophelia clenches her jaw as she watches Cora fight to breathe.

Without warning, Cora tossed across the room to knock a few of the sinks off the tiled wall. She lands on the floor groaning in pain and clutching her head.

Rolling her shoulders back, Ophelia readies herself to stop Aiden from doing any further damage. Derek would kill her if something permanent happened to his sister on her watch. She doesn't feel like dying today.

Keeping her eyes trained on Aiden's figure, Ophelia feels her fangs elongate inside her mouth as she slowly stalks forward while he picks up a weight. With Cora's pained groans in her ear, she doesn't need to look up as Lydia calls out in terror, "Aiden, stop! Stop!"

Right before he can smack it across Cora's face and gift her with a nasty concussion, potentially something more, Ophelia closes the distance between them and grabs onto the weight.

A pair of red eyes meet her own and she stares at him with little emotion in her expression. "Let go, or I will do the exact same as you plan to do to her to you." Even though his own grip loosens slightly, he still refuses to hand it over, blinded by the rage from being ambushed. "Now." Rolling her eyes when he refuses to budge, she sighs. "Fine, this is on you."

Her hand plunges inside of his chest and her fingers loosely wrap around his beating heart. The weight clatters onto the floor, now long forgotten by both parties. Aiden's chest heaves up and down as his wide eyes stare at her in shock.

Even though it hadn't been that long at all since she had last taken a life, Ophelia had been deprived of violence for too long than is healthy for her mental stability. Now, being given the opportunity to easily murder the boy that has given her so much grief, the desire to kill clouds over any remaining rational thoughts circling in her mind.

So much so, she can't hear the frantic calls of Lydia from behind her, desperately pleading for her to stop. All she can hear is the rhythmic, cathartic thumping of his heart, and the incredibly intoxicating smell of his blood flooding every fibre of her being.

Only when a hand tightly grips onto her upper arm is she taken out of whatever dazed state she is in. "Ophelia! What the hell are you doing?" Scott yells, quickly dropping the volume of his voice when he realises how shaken she suddenly is. "I said not to kill him!"

Glancing over to her victim, her eyes widen slightly as she watches Aiden being comforted by his brother, distanced from her claws and fangs. She then finds Lydia who is standing by her side in... concern?

"Are you okay?" Lydia asks her softly, rushing over to grab a paper towel to wet it with water. She starts to clean the blood off Ophelia's hand, her eyes occasionally flicking up to check her face. "Lia, are you okay?"

"What?" Ophelia repeats. She's thoroughly confused as to why the prominent emotion in Lydia is concern instead of anger. She had been so close to murdering Aiden. She at least deserves a good bitch-slap.

She isn't aware of the look her three friends share. It had been a while since they had seen her lose herself like that. It was like for a few brief seconds Ophelia had lost her sanity. Not like her non-humanity self, more she was here but not exactly here. Some would say she's insane. Perhaps she is.

"I—I'm fine, sorry." She notices how not only Scott and Ethan are here, but so is Stiles. "Cora," she remembers in alarm. She rushes over beside the injured girl slumped on the ground and surveys her body for all of the injuries.

"She came at me!" Aiden bellows in rage.

The group comforting Cora look up to the conversation being held between the twins. "It doesn't matter!" Ethan replies with just as much force. "Derek has until the next full moon. You can't touch him, or her."

Ophelia's forehead creases in worry as Cora is barely able to hold her body weight up and she moves to help her stand. She positions herself in a way so that if either one of the twins would possibly try something again, they would have to go through her first. Although by the gaping wound in Aiden's chest that continues to heal, alongside his pained expression, it doesn't look like anything else would be occurring today.

Scott gives Ethan a look, silently asking him to let it go and to leave them. Throwing an arm around his brother, the boy nods and pulls Aiden out of the room, not before the latter can throw Ophelia a distasteful glance. She gives a patronising smile as she watches him stumble out.

Helping support Cora up from the other side, Stiles clears his throat. "Hey, guys, I think she's pretty hurt," he says in concern.

Cora takes the paper towel that Ophelia offers her and walks over to one of the remaining sinks to wash the gash on her forehead. She winces when the water hits her skin.

"Are you okay?" Scott asks her gently.

"Of course she's not," Ophelia says. "Look at her!" She checks herself and swallows as she meets eyes with the girl in the cracked mirror. "I'm—"

Cora looks between them all through the mirror and attempts to roll her eyes. "It's fine, I'll heal," she cuts Ophelia off. However, as she takes a step back, she stumbles. Rushing forward, Ophelia and Stiles go to take either side of her once again, only for her to hold up her hand and stop them. "I said, I'm fine."

Raising her wrist up to her mouth, Ophelia is once again stopped by a hand lightly resting on her elbow. "Cora, come on, at least let me heal you."

"I said, I'm fine," she snaps angrily, growing increasingly aggravated by the attention. "I don't want your help, I don't want your blood, and I don't want your concern." Blinking at the outburst, Ophelia nods and steps away to give her some distance.

"Do you realise how psychotic that was?" Stiles asks her in disbelief. "What were you thinking, going after them?"

Cora's eyes narrow and she scoffs quietly. "I did it because none of you are doing anything!"

Now, it's Ophelia's turn to scoff. "All right, I've killed a few people, thank you very much," she argues defensively.

Scott softly sighs. "We're trying—"

"And you're failing. You're all just a bunch of stupid teenagers, running around, thinking that you can stop people from being killed." She looks to Ophelia, then to Lydia. "But all you're doing is being the cause of majority of those bodies and showing up late to find the ones that really matter."

When she turns her back on everyone and storms out the bathroom as best as she can, Ophelia closes her eyes, her posture relaxing as she feels Lydia slip her hand into her own. The remark had been directed toward them, each of them feeling a slight pang in their hearts at Cora's words.

"She's definitely a Hale," Stiles says after a few moments, trying to lighten the mood. "I'll make sure she gets home."

Ophelia finally sighs, the exhaustion of not having any blood for the day catching up to her. Maybe it's mental exhaustion. "Yeah, I'm done for the day, so I'm going home, too."

Scott nods. Himself and Lydia share a look, communicating that they agree on her going home to spend time with her family. After all, her brother had just died. "See you later, Fi," he says.

After he leaves the locker room, the girls are left alone with one another. "I know you said you're okay, but are you okay?" Lydia asks once more, playing with her friend's fingers in their entwined hands.

Inhaling an unsteady breath, Ophelia nods. "Yeah, I—no. No, I'm not."

Lydia's face falls when her voice cracks. Once a tear drops, she moves in front of her and places a finger under her chin to lock their eyes with one another. "Hey," she soothes. "If it's about getting carried away with Aiden, we can talk about it later..."

"I just, I'm not sure what's going on with me at the moment," Ophelia mutters. Her eyes screw shut when she feels the burning sensation of incoming tears once more. "I'm not me."

Frowning, Lydia wipes the second tear with the pad of her thumb. "Yes, you are, honey, you're just going through some shit at the moment that's making you feel like absolute crap."

Opening her eyes, Ophelia's lip wobbles slightly at the concern etched across her best friend's face. "Why don't you hate me?" she asks.

The shock that flashes across Lydia's face is brief. "Hate you? I would never hate you, why would you think that?" Her voice is filled with offence, taken aback to being presented with the question.

"After everything I've done, you're still here, standing by my side and asking me if I'm okay. Lydia, I am not a good person. I just tried to kill the guy you've made abundantly clear you care for. I have murdered so many people this year, I couldn't give you a number. I—"

Her breath catches in her throat when she feels the touch of lips against her own, swiftly cutting off her rambling. It's a good thing, because she would've kept going on and on, probably ending up on the floor in the boy's locker room in a puddle of tears. Lydia stays still with her hand against Ophelia's flushed cheek, just allowing their lips to touch softly, not moving. Another tear falls down Ophelia's cheek as her eyes close. It's the comfort she needs right now amidst a moment of raw vulnerability, revealing a side of herself that rarely anybody is given the opportunity to see.

Allowing their foreheads rest gently against one another, Lydia shakes her head again to answer the question that had been posed to her a minute ago. "I could never hate you," she softly says. "I would never hate you, okay?"

Ophelia stares into the green eyes of her best friend, and after acknowledging to herself how she can't distinguish a lie, she nods. For once, someone isn't scared by her or of her. They aren't scared of the fangs and dark veins that come out in the shadows during the night, or the glowing eyes that show a level of monstrosity that should only be described inside children's stories and nightmares.

She has found a forever friend in Lydia Martin.

Always and forever.

so i felt the kiss between fi and lydia was perfect for the moment. it was the reassurance and comfort ophelia needed to be reminded that she's still human. their relationship will only ever be platonic, so don't worry!