𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐀 𝐂𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐀𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐅𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐇 𝐀𝐈𝐑 𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐄, Deena woke up with a gasp almost as if she was drowning. She immediately sat up on guard as she remembered last night's situation. However, she wasn't in a graveyard, she was in bed, in someone else's room. And it wasn't night. The morning sun blinded her and blocking out the light didn't help either.

At her feet, a pair of folded clothes lie. It came from out her suitcase — a pair of blue mom jeans with a short-sleeved basic shirt and a yellow smiley face in the center. This house, this room, must belong to the people who saved her that night. Or was it last night?

It's unsure how long she's been unconscious.

Maybe Davina ended up finding her afterall and brought her home? Which meant another long day finding her father all over again.

She sighed as she got out of bed, cocking her head at how easily she stood without any aches or pain done to her body, which made no sense. She almost died. That pain...that feeling of extortion never left her memory. It was nothing she has ever felt in her entire life, something she never wants to feel again. And Deena wasn't dumb, whatever happened that night should've had a bigger impact to her body. So why did she feel completely fine?

She decided to think about it later as a foul stench came under her arms. I've definitely been out for some days. She grabbed the clothes and took a nice long, warm shower in the spacious bathroom connected to the room. After getting dressed and pushing back her thick hair with a black cloth material headband, she was left with only one door yet to explore — the door which led to whomever house this was.

There was no sign of life as she followed down the thick gray hallways decorated with a minimalistic taste. Her hand brushed against the rails peering out toward the open courtyard. Also empty. Deena even noticed a faded red color beneath her feet, a broken window a few doors down, and a door with its handle broken off. The place appeared somewhat rundown but it had a nice homey touch to the area. It was pretty huge so it had to be expensive.

But where the hell are the people?

She has passed by a few rooms, yet there was no sign of life, or the people who saved her that night. Not even Davina showing out from somewhere to greet her. It was so quiet she could hear her own breathing.

Making her way down the old stairs toward the open courtyard, Deena couldn't help but feel like there was someone behind her. Someone so close she could feel their warm breath against her neck, but when she spun to confirm her suspicion while rubbing her neck red, there was no one there. However, for a moment, she could've sworn a shadow was standing at the top of the stairs.

"Hello?" Deena decided to finally speak. She touched her throat slightly, remembering the thick feeling of blood clogged in her lungs. "Is there anyone here? N'importe qui (anyone)?"

The strange tingly feeling of someone's presence returned. She ignored it.

Deena found herself in a huge kitchen. It was the biggest kitchen her eyes had ever laid upon. If her mom was here, she'd love this kitchen and be in it all day. Herself too. It was spotless and brand new, almost as if it's never been touched. Odd how the house appeared as though it went through hell but the kitchen remains untouched.

A gust of wind blew against her backside as Deena furthered into the kitchen.

She was about to reach for the fridge handle in hopes there was something to eat, until a deep voice rumbled her organs. "I would not open that fridge if I were you. It's a bit of a mess and not prepared for your arrival."

Deena spun around with a gasp, slamming her body against the cool fridge. She's faced with a tall, brown-headed man dressed in a sharp freshly-steamed black suit. She eyed the kitchen for a weapon to defend herself from the mysterious man with a familiar tone of voice.

Recognizing her fear, he took a respectable step back to allow Deena her space. "My apologies, I tend to be silent on my feet." He explained. She only stared. "Where are my manners, my name is Elijah Mikaelson — " Deena's head perked at his surname. Mikaelson? " — Niklaus's elder brother, your...uncle I suppose is the proper word." Elijah noticeably cringed at the word 'Uncle'. Just as Klaus, it tasted foreign on his tongue.

It took Deena a moment to connect Niklaus to Klaus Mikaelson, her father. So this wasn't Davina's place afterall. "He's alive?" She lets down her guard with a question that's been on her mind.

Elijah sized the child for unhealed injuries. "Very much so. He is a tough man to kill." Of course, she'd be perfectly fine with Rebekah's blood in her system, but he was worried for her mentally. No child should ever have to go through a tragic experience even by the hands of witches and their long history of child sacrifices. "How do you feel? You weren't in the best shape when we found you."

"I feel..." There were many things Deena currently felt; confused, energetic, powerful, relieved to be alive and to have found her father though she's yet to meet him, a lot better than when she arrived, and... "Hungry. Very hungry."

"Yes," He searched around the kitchen for food that wasn't there. "Hunger. We should get you something to eat and I will make that happen. Come with me."

Deena followed behind Elijah. "How long have I been out?"

"About two days or so."

Deena stopped in her trail.

Elijah also heard when her footsteps haltered. When he faced her, he noticed a distant look in her brown eyes. "There seems to be something on your mind? What is bothering you?"

Deena shook her head. "It's nothing. I shouldn't bother you w — "

"I don't mind the bother. In fact, I would be more than eager to know whatever is on your mind at all times if you, of course, permit me to know."

Her lips parted as she took a step back, not expecting his response. His attention. His care for her well-being and a will to listen to her and whatever was said out her mouth. She hasn't felt this way since her mother passed away and liked it. A lot. It was what she wanted, for someone to care about her again. She could only wonder what her father was going to be like when they met.

"I-I don't," Deena shrugged, stumbling over her words to make sense of everything. "I don't understand what happened when I woke up in that graveyard. That woman seemed to know me but I don't know her — I don't know anyone here! She told me I could help her coven, that I was upsetting the balance of magic...and threw a girl I met against the wall like a wizard. And caused so much pain to my body without touching me. I don't...how? How's that possible?"

Elijah took note of Deena's confusion. He was as well confused himself given her mother and her long history of heroic acts. "Your mother never told you..." He trailed off to leave the answer up for his niece to fill in and make sense of.

Deena blinked. "Told me what?"

Elijah fell to silence with a soft hum.

Wishing to press the matter no more and lead the child to a source of human food, his ears perked at footsteps heading in their direction. He took a cautious step in front of Deena in a protective manner until the footsteps came with a face entering the kitchen. Elijah then backed down.

A white woman with long, flowy blond hair dressed in a leather jacket with a light pair of jeans (in this heat) entered the kitchen they were just about to exit. She noticed Deena on her way in and rose her threaded brows in surprise almost as if she'd seen a ghost. "Well, look who is alive. Of course, you would be, you're a Mikaelson; we always survive whatever hell is thrown our way." She paused, thinking. "Well...not all, but most find a way."

Deena looked to Elijah for confirmation. "This is R — "

She stiffened as the woman went in for a hug. She failed to warn Deena of this action and looked to Elijah for help who simply allowed it to happen. "Wow. You smell good," She inhaled deeply. To the vampires, to Elijah more specifically, the saying could've meant anything and he was going to stop his sister from whatever impulse until Rebekah sensed him. "Relax, Elijah, it's a compliment. You know I would never harm a child nevertheless my niece."

"Sorry...who are you?"

"Rebekah Mikaelson, but you may call me Aunt Bekah. I quite like it; It has a nice ring to it. Aunt Bekah." She repeated to see how it sounded off her lips again.

Another Mikaelson whom Davina mentioned. His sister. Unsure of their ages, they both appeared quite young. Rebekah near her age or older and Elijah in his mid 20's. She wasn't sure where her father fits in yet but given the picture he took with her mother, he should be in his late 30's or early 40s possibly. Davina also mentioned they were troubling and terrorizing the city, but they didn't seem all that scary to her. She admits, there was something definitely off about them but not entirely questionable.

"I'm Deena Salée...which you know already." She laughed nervously, overwhelmed by meeting her family. It used to be only her and her mom, but now she has an uncle, an aunt, and even a father...wherever he might be.

Elijah smiled. "Salée it's a French surname and judging by the accent, you are?"

She nodded proudly. "Oui,"

"Mon frère a vraiment une attirance pour les françaises, du coup, je suis pas vraiment surprise." (My brother definitely has a thing for French women , so I'm not surprised)

Deena lifted a brow at Rebekah's perfect pronunciation. "Tu peux comprendre le français (You understand French)?" She asked. She was happy to have met someone who spoke her native language.

"Please, I probably invented it." Rebekah mused as she pulled herself onto the squeaky clean counters. She brushed her fingers through her long locks before flipping it effortlessly over her shoulder. "With all the time we have, acquiring languages is like teaching a baby to walk. It's easy. Après tout, tu est à New Orleans (After all, you're in New Orleans). French is everywhere."

"We want you to be comfortable, Deena. If you prefer us to communicate in a language you're most comfortable with using, we will be happy to abide." Elijah reassured.

Rebekah agreed as well.

Deena only met these people today and they would go to great lengths to make her comfortable even enough to speak her language. It was all too real to be true. More dreamlike than true. "I appreciate it, but we spoke both English and French at home. I can use the extra practice anyway so English is perfect for me."

"As you wish,"

Both vampires flickered to Deena at the sound of her stomach growling. It was the tiniest growl. One she couldn't hear though she felt its soft vibrations beneath where her hand rested. Rebekah jumped off the counters, searching through cabinets and hidden spots when Deena lifted her head from her growling stomach, which growled more. A sound Deena heard this time.

She slammed the nearest cabinet with a dragged groan. "No matter how many bloody times I check, no human food lies about. You must forgive us, Deena, we weren't expecting guests. Alive at least." Human food? Deena looked to Elijah who was glaring at Rebekah, who paid no mind to either of their stares and faced Deena with her arms crossed. "What do you say, little niece? Shall we eat a restaurant dry?"

Despite her confusion, Deena gave a nod. "Okay," She eased into a smile.

"Rebekah," Elijah called pressingly. "A word please in the hallway." Once acquiring his sister's attention, he gestured to the hallway outside of the kitchen.

Of course, she arrived within seconds using vamp speed. Elijah released a stressful sigh at her rash actions. Luckily, Deena was occupied with an ancient-looking vase in the kitchen to witness it.

"Did I say something wrong? You know I've never been great with children, but I'm willing to learn. Always."

"It's not that," Elijah peered into the kitchen to check on the child once more. She sat at the counter waiting for their return.

Oddly, she felt the vibrations of their voices speaking. The same vibrations she heard from those around her. And sometimes if she focused hard enough, she'd hear sounds she could not see. But she couldn't hear them. It was an on-and-off thing that started a month ago. Possibly a special gift. Like a mutant from X-Men.

It was so strange to Elijah — to all of them — after living an immortal life with no care for mortals who surrounded them as they all perished in time and often by their hunger, to now having a mortal child of their blood in their care. He couldn't keep his eyes off her and believed it to be a fever dream.

"I'm afraid the child has no knowledge of this world and the creatures which lie within it. I believe her mother has failed to inform her."

Rebekah scoffed. "Her mother is a powerful witch, an unforgettable one who has done a lot for the communities in her prime time. How could she not know? You can't just turn off magic whenever you want."

"Her mother might have her reasons. Though she was respected by the deeds she sow, she was as well a threat to those who despise her coalition outside her community." Elijah explained, placing himself in her shoes. "For now, we should reframe from making Deena think we are otherwise but human, which begins with the choice of your wording sister."

"Well, how the hell do you suppose we do that? The Quarter is roamed with vampires and witches, including her hybrid father who can't control his impulses. Not to mention tonight's a full moon so every vampire who's not across that river will be here. And if she's anything like her mother, I'm sure there's a magical storm cooking up somewhere in her. If not now."

Deena's ears perked, the vibrations of Rebekah's voice repeating back 'if not now'. She heard her. As clear as day, as if she was standing right over her shoulder, Deena could hear their conversation. Well, not all. She only heard that part and what's to come after. Anything else before that line, nothing.

But that wasn't all. The ancient-looking vase she once admired before she took her seat at the counter, rattled. Right before her eyes, a force once used after her mother died. When she mourned her death, every window in the house shattered and papers flew everywhere — the same that's happening now. Against the vase.

She peered back to where Elijah and Rebekah conversed and continued watching the vase, until her focus was brought back to Elijah's speaking. "I have the means to do some digging. Afterall, she is a Mikaelson born from a hybrid father and w — " Deena jumped to her feet with a yelp as the vase continued to rattle, more violently now. Its rattle kept her from concentrating on their conversation and putting together the mixed pieces.

"...but for now, we are human. And we are hungry..."

There was something about the rattle, around this very room, within her, which was calling to her. And when she lifted her hand, not knowing what else to do, or why she should do it — it stopped. The rattle stopped. Astonished, Deena peered down at her hand. Then at the vase. What the hell? Did I do that?

"Deena, are you ready to go?"

Deena jumped with a gasp at Elijah's voice scaring her from behind without any warning. Her heart thudded in their ears and intensified as she followed his curious gaze toward the vase...the vase she stopped with her hand.

"Y-yeah, I'm ready. Just waiting for you two."

Rebekah revealed herself from behind Elijah's tall figure. "Great because I know an amazing place that will make you feel right at home." She cheered.

𝐃𝐄𝐄𝐍𝐀 𝐖𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃'𝐕𝐄 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐆𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐄𝐀𝐓 𝐈𝐅 𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐉𝐀𝐇 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐑𝐄𝐁𝐄𝐊𝐀𝐇 were only going to watch Deena eat instead of eating themselves. They acted as if she was filming a mukbang or was fascinated by how much food she digested though all she ordered was red beans and rice with ham hock and lemon water on the side. They brought her to this local spot which served traditional dishes famous in New Orleans. She was overwhelmed by the menu and asked the waiter for recommendations. After having a taste of this delicious delight, Deena could never go back. This was currently her favorite spot.

A hand soft on Deena's shoulder, "How you liking your food, baby?" It was Lovelie, the owner of the restaurant 'Mama's Joint'. She appeared in her late 40's though with her hair braided individually and pulled back into a half-down style, she looked even younger. But she was sweet and her aura reminded Deena of her mother in a sense.

"I might become a regular." Deena replied. Judging by the red sauce on her lips, she enjoyed the food a lot more than expected.

Lovelie smiled. "I'm pleased to see it's a Mikaelson thing. They sure favor this place. Kept me in business for years."

It was new to be referred to as a Mikaelson though her surname legally remained a Salée. She didn't feel worthy of having their name when they were still strangers to each other. She felt it's a name she must earn and not be given on a silver platter. But stranger or not, it didn't stop Elijah from introducing Deena to Lovelie as his niece.

"Much more than your delightful cuisines but the culture you put into your work. We always appreciate the city inside and out." Elijah complimented.

"I'm touched," She sent him a pleased expression before she tapped Deena's shoulder again. "Let me know if you need anything else."

After she left, Deena took note of their untouched food. Rebekah ordered a drink while Elijah ordered a chocolate fudge cake — all which still remained untouched. The most Elijah had done was poke his fork in the cake.

"Are you guys not eating?" They followed Deena's furrowed brows to their untouched items.

"I'm afraid I ate before coming here," Elijah replied, crossing his arms. And he had, but it wasn't human food.

Deena looked to Rebekah waiting to hear her excuse next. "Me too, but this cake looks tasty," She slid Elijah's cake in front of her and began eating. She ate as if Deena was holding a gun to her head when it was only a simple question, and smiled when feeling Deena's stare. "Just as I remembered...eating this a day ago."

They both went back to eating. Rebekah actually enjoying the sweet delight though full from an earlier feast.

But for now we are human and we are hungry. The words played back into Deena's head as she ate her food silently. She inspected them — two perfectly statued humans who appeared human for the most part. They act like humans. They sort of ate like humans. So what did Elijah mean by that statement? Were they not human at all? Or didn't believe they were? They were a bit weird in a sense but Deena brushed it off. It was nice to be around family again.

Elijah felt the presence of someone near and peered out the window to confirm his suspicion. A fainted smile then curled his lips after narrowing his gaze to the hand fidgeting with the folded napkin.

Deena went to follow his gaze wanting to know what caught his attention, but her view was clouded by Rebekah's head as she barged the young teenager with questions as if they were in an interview. "Tell us about yourself, Deena. I feel the better we know each other, the more we won't feel like strangers." She continued, shoving a forkful in her mouth. "How about we start with the basics? What's your favorite food? Favorite color? Any boys you fancy? Or girls? Do you recall a moment in life where you felt...magical?"

Elijah's eyes went big at Rebekah's question and cleared his throat loud enough to put her in her lane, but she ignored Elijah, waiting patiently and eagerly for Deena's response. More so the lather.

Deena looked between the two. "Um..." She trailed.

While Deena thought of what to say, Elijah decided to speak in his word while he had the chance. "One question at a time, Rebekah. She is still eating." He told her in a calm, pressing manner.

She rolled her eyes. "You can't blame me for being excited, but fine. I will wait until she's finished eating. I forget mort — " Caught herself with a smile. " — we tend to eat slow at times. Take your time, dear. Just not all day."

"It's okay, I'm finished."

Deena continued to stuff down ham despite her mouth already filled with rice. She was trying to finish her meal in a couple of bites, but her calculations were way off. Much off. The servings here were much bigger than what's given in her country, it would probably take her a day or two to complete. But it didn't stop her from trying.

Elijah saw she was forcing herself to eat faster and grew worried, as well as the stalking guest across the street before a phonecall occupied his attention. "Please, do take your time and be careful to not choke." He reached for her drink, placing it in front of her and held it there until she took the cup to sip from. "If you wish to finish your meal, we can wait. Believe me, we have all the time in the world to hear the side of your story."

And Deena did just that. She ate as much as she could hold with the help of lemon water washing down the food. The rest would be scooped in a to-go box and bagged up for a later dinner or midnight snack.

After a moment of letting everything settle, she sat in her chair with nothing on her brain as she began to think about herself. Of course, she knew all of the things she liked and found passion in, but having to form them into words so that another person could understand her was hard. It reminded her of the first day of school when the teacher chooses a student one-by-one to stand up and share what they've done over the summer including three interesting facts about them. Deena was normally picked last and when she couldn't think of what to say — despite being given a 20+ student headstart — she'd repeat what another had said in different words. But this time, she was the first to be picked.

"I'm not really a picky eater so I can eat just about anything, but I love cheesecake! It was so bad at one point my mom had hidden the cake and forced me to eat something real. But no matter where she kept it hidden, I always found it. I like oranges too — my favorite fruit. I eat them mostly in the mornings but I like them as a fresh snack throughout the day. And..."

Deena paused just to make sure she wasn't talking too much or boring either of them to death, but they seemed to not mind her chatter and were genuinely interested in her life.

Rebekah shared a smile upon hearing the story. "Damn. I guess I'm the only picky eater in the family." She jokingly smacked her lips.

"Continue on," Elijah prompted.

"Uh...I like pastel colors, nude is nice too. Better most times. Opposite from my mom who wore every color on the rainbow, she would change her clothes four times a day if it wasn't as crazy or expressive enough. And she would..." Deena stopped herself before she got carried away speaking too much about her mother. Because when she did, she would get emotional, and when she's emotional, she will cry; and when she does cry, it will be hard to stop. And weird things happened when she cried. "Sorry. I was supposed to be talking about me, but I'm here talking about my mom instead. I probably killed the mood." The chuckle Deena let loose was painful, easy to see through, so she stopped and started messing with her unfinished food.

Elijah handed her a napkin he wasn't fidgeting with the moment a tear shed. "It's quite alright, Deena." He was never great at comforting children, but he was better at it than most of his siblings. So he believed. "I don't mind either story you tell."

"Speaking of your mother, does she not know you're here? France is very far away, you're a minor, and I'm sure your mother's stapling missing posters across towns."

Silence.

Elijah sent his sister a soft glare. She has a big problem with not reading the room and saying whatever was on her mind without thought. "If you prefer we talk about something else we can," Offered Elijah. "Maybe even about ourselves so you don't feel the spotlight is only on you."

Deena admired her uncle's compassion. She actually would rather talk about them instead of herself because what she was practicing in her head failed to translate properly out her mouth.

But since they were on the conversation, Deena assumed now to be a decent time to tell everyone the truth. "My mom doesn't know I'm here," She started, fidgeting with the napkin under the table to avoid their contact. "But I didn't run away either. The truth is, she died a month ago; suicide. And when she left, I sort of went through her things — which is where I found a letter about my father and where he lived — then came here on a whim without much planning. I know she didn't want me to come here for whatever reason, but..." She shrugged. "I came anyways and I don't regret it. But if my presence here complicates anything, I don't mind leaving. I can — "

Rebekah calmed her racy thoughts by grabbing her hand and bringing her mind back to earth. "You're a Mikaelson, love. There is no other place we want you to be but here with us." She reassured her niece, relieved they weren't shipping her back to France so soon.

When both siblings exchanged a glance, it was clear they shared the same thought surrounding Vanessa's death — flawed. Neither knew Vanessa on a personal level or as well as Klaus did, so maybe it was true and she was fighting some inner demons she couldn't beat. But in a world they live in and the person Vanessa was, suicide was just another easy stamp on cases with evidence beyond the human's capacity. Either it was a case they couldn't understand, or was too lazy to solve and threw it away.

Elijah stood from his seat, almost jumping in action, and acquired both their abrupt attention. "I will have to hold off on my introduction since a matter has come up." He sent a smile foolish enough to fool Deena, but Rebekah saw past it. "I will make it up to you another time, Deena."

She frowned a little. "I understand."

They watched him leave.

Rebekah then scooted in. "Now that it's just us girls, do tell, do you have a lover back home? A prince charming or princess missing you and waiting for your return?"