◤ 𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖙𝖜𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖞-𝖋𝖎𝖛𝖊: ❛ misjudged outcomes ❜ ◢

✧

NEW ORLEANS ALWAYS HAD SOMETHING TO CELEBRATE. A new festival every week, another parade, another reason to party and let loose was always around the corner, and while it tuckered out Marisol on a good day, she was seeming to have a lot of bad days. The last thing she wanted was yet another festival after everything.

          No, what she wanted instead was some time to recover, and to walk around the Compound without feeling like the Mikaelson siblings were fighting again or that Hayley was at odds with Klaus again. Though, she supposed, they were never not at odds, so her wish would never come true in that regard.

          But still, if there was a celebration, she wasn't going to miss it after she missed out on the music festival to go prancing around the bayou. No, she was going to get dressed in her best antique white dress from the early 1900s she had saved – oh, it was a wonderful piece of fashion at the time but now looked a little too dated for her taste – before Hayley could bat her eyelashes and force them out into the wildness. She was not doing that day.

          There was a knock at her door, which wasn't an unfamiliar sound now. Maybe at the old governor's house, where she went most of the time undisturbed in her room, but now that she was better terms with Elijah, he knocked at once every day to check in on her. Whether it be in the morning a little after she woke up or before she went to bed, he always wanted to have a little conversation with her.

          She was sure he did the same with Hayley, because it made a lot of sense, and probably just included her so she didn't feel isolated, and butterflies always erupted in her stomach when he did even though she knew they shouldn't.

          "Come in," she softly called, smoothing out her dress. It had been stuck in her old New Orleans apartment for decades now, ever since she had last been in the city, and it was incredibly wrinkled.

          The doorknob turned, and as she turned she could see Elijah in a suit – as he always was – entering her room. "Marisol," he softly called out to her before his eyes dashed to see her outfit, "You look beautiful."

          She shrugged off the compliment, walking forward. "I completely forgot about this dress. I think I got it for a Casket Girls festival last time I was here, but I can't remember. Still, it's coming in useful now."

          A little smile peaked out on his lips, amusement filling his eyes. "Were you always such a partier?"

          "I didn't spend my youth partying, thank you very much, so I've had to make up for it over time," she defended herself, "And besides, New Orleans always has the best celebrations."

          "Don't let Rebekah hear you say that. This festival exists because of her and it'll go straight to her head."

          Marisol laughed a little, shaking her head. "Of course your family is involved with the festival. Are there any your family didn't create?"

          "A few," Elijah answered after a moment, and she laughed a little more because he had to actually think about it before he could answer her.

          Their eyes locked together for a second, but she quickly moved away from them. "That's very narcissistic," she commented, smoothing out her dress more.

          He cocked his head. "What? You haven't had a festival in your honor before?"

          Her mouth opened a little in surprise. He couldn't actually think she would expose herself enough for that? Besides, she never charmed a man who would do such a thing for her. "No. Believe it or not, I kept my head down."

          "Shame," Elijah mused, "There should be thousands of festivals in your honor."

          The comment knocked all the air out of her. She wasn't sure what he meant by that. His tone wasn't overly joking, so she couldn't assume that he was playing with her like they had been doing before. It wasn't almost genuine, possibly genuine, but she shook away that thought as it came.

          She wasn't special enough to have any festival in her honor – she was just a cursed werewolf who was still walking around long after she should've died.

          "Well," she found some air again, "Then you must be disappointed. No one's been fond enough of little 'ole for a parade, but I'll celebrate Rebekah's."

           "Maybe we should change that," Elijah said, eyes finding hers again before cocking his head a little, "The dress looks good on you."

          Before she could thank him, because she was raised with manners and knew how to accept a compliment, he was walking out of her room, leaving her in a bit of shock. She blinked, trying to regain her senses, because still found herself utterly perplexed by him.

          Elijah was an enigma. He always had been to her, and that was what drew her in the most. She didn't understand him, and before she hadn't wanted to. She liked the mystery, liked being able to never truly know him as he never truly knew her, but now...now it was just confusing and frustrating.

          She wanted to know him as she never knew him before, and she wanted him to know her in a way he didn't before – the thought scared her. As much as she wanted Elijah to be drawn into her life, and as much as he made butterflies swarm in her stomach, she pushed away the thought from her head. It was a foolish notion, to believe that it could ever be so simple as just knowing someone. Elijah was more than just a mystery, he was a person and maybe she didn't want to know everything about him.

          Some mysteries were meant to never be solved, and maybe he was one of them. She already knew enough about him, and what she knew was that he cared deeply for Hayley and his family, and whatever game he played with her meant nothing. Maybe for now it did, but it wouldn't, so she shouldn't get attached or allow him to make her feel such ways.

✧

          THE COMPOUND HAD been in a panic after the discovering that teen witch extraordinaire, Miss Davina Claire, had fled. Klaus was more worried about the power that ran in her veins, and Elijah just wanted to control his brother, while Marcel actually cared for the girl and was concerned for her whereabouts.

          Marisol, for the most part, was apathetic to this loss. She understood Davina's need to escape, to leave New Orleans and her life behind, because she had felt this urge many times in her youth. Though she stood with the Mikaelsons for Hayley's sake, she was not Davina's enemy, and she wasn't going to act like it. They would find her on their own time, and she would do whatever she pleased in the meantime.

          What she wanted mostly consisted of pouring herself a drink of the thousand liquor bottles they had, and sipping away the day. She was not going to ruin a perfectly good day with running around trying to find another person. She was just going to relax and let them solve their problems for once without her help.

          It was a fine plan, except for a pregnant werewolf, who lurked around each corner before eventually finding the courage to step out into the light. "Took you long enough," Marisol commented when she finally came into sight, "You've been watching for long enough, I must've been quite a bore for you."

          "Marisol," oh no, she looked serious. She was trying to ruin her perfectly good and plain day – not again. And this time, Hayley actually looked nervous, well, that and a bit of something else. "I need your help."

          "Of course you do," she couldn't help but snort, "But I'm afraid to tell you that I am out of commission for today. Klaus already tried to employ me in his plan to find Davina and I declined, which I'm going to have to do again with you."

          "This is serious," Hayley pleaded.

          "And you think finding an all-powerful teenager witch who can't control her emotions yet isn't?" Marisol raised an eyebrow, "Honestly, I don't care if it's the end of the world. I'm taking a day off."

          "Please," Hayley begged a little, "It's for me. For my family."

          Marisol gave her a bored look. "I've already done enough to save your family. I went to the bayou when Klaus was trying to kill all the werewolves, I've done everything to protect your child, and I've kept you safe. I think I deserve a day off."

          Hayley huffed, slamming her hands on the table in front of Marisol. "If the Harvest isn't completed, I'll never get to know them. They'll be wolves forever and I will be able to know them."

          She softened a little, just for a moment, because even though she didn't want to raise a finger today she understood the importance of family. If Magnus called her right then in trouble, she would drop everything and rush to his aid, but her family wasn't just Magnus.

          It had been Ophelia and Circe, her mother and the man she was supposed to marry before. That was supposed to be her family, even though they were far removed from her, lost to time.

          "Hayley, I'm not trying to be cruel when I say this, but maybe it's for the best if you never know. Family's a bit overrated, and sometimes they can do more bad in your life than good," she said softly, flashes of Ophelia's crazed eyes as she cursed her older sister.

          The pregnant werewolf scoffed. "They're still my family. I still have the right to know and find out for myself. You said that you would do anything for me."

          "I said that I would protect you," Marisol corrected her, "Not that I would play into your every whim. And who knows, maybe my unhelpfulness will protect you one day. I'm not helping you find Davina."

          Hayley shook her head. "I don't want Davina. I want the bones of an old witch who died. That way Sophie can get her magic and end the curse on the werewolves."

          Marisol raised an eyebrow. "You believe Sophie will actually help you?" she mused.

          "I have to. I don't have another choice."

          Laughing dryly, Marisol shook her head, "There's always a choice. It just doesn't seem like it because you've already made hers. Go grave digging on your own, I'm not getting my hands dirty today."

          Hayley's eyes flamed in fury, and she watched the pregnant werewolf strut away, and for a moment guilt pooled into her gut. This was the first time she had told Hayley no, and it didn't make her feel good. No, it made her feel incredibly bad, and she hated it, but she couldn't do this.

          Not today, and not tomorrow either.

          Family was a tricky business, Marisol knew that well, and Hayley's could end up hurting her. While the pain of not knowing would always sting her soul, at least she would be physically alright. She couldn't know what the werewolves would do, and she didn't want to find out.

          She knocked back the rest of the liquor in her glass, pouring some more right away, and it helped her guilt fade away.

✧

          THE CASKET GIRLS parade was a fantastic sight full of liquor, laughter, loud music, and wedding dresses. White gowns, some stained as the night continued through messy endeavors, clothing all these girls who were pretending to be the Casket Girl from centuries before. Marisol walked around, blending in with them, and taking in the environment.

          One attribute she didn't mind of immortality was seeing the changes in people through time. This could never be a thing when she was a child, so free and so loud, so vulgar. People were always covered, and no one could ever be sloppy – especially women. But now, now everything was so different, and people were laughing and drunk, and no one was going to gossip about it later because so was everyone else.

          It was such a divine sight in this way. People had changed so much, more relaxed about showing the more vulgar sides of humanity, and as she saw teeth clash together with people, she was reminded again that no such thing would ever happen in her youth. If she remained a regular werewolf without a curse she would have never seen this. Like her family, she would have been lost with time.

          Maybe that was a tragedy, or maybe that was the best thing to ever happen, she wasn't sure.

          But Marisol, though she didn't look the part, was quite old, and partying didn't seem as exhilarating as it had before. The twenties was a wonderful time to party, and sometimes she dearly missed it for that attribute, but maybe that was because she had Magnus with her for the whole decade. They had gone twenty years before without seeing each other, so they made it for it by sticking together and roaming across the country all of the twenties.

          Now, Magnus was off in Europe, and she was in New Orleans, and while she wasn't necessarily alone it still felt that way sometimes. She always felt more complete with him around, perhaps because they had spent half a millennium together.

          "I haven't see you around here in a while," a bitter dripping voice called from behind her. Marisol turned, and she saw Amelia there. She blinked, because it had been a long time since they had met up together, but in her defense she had been terribly busy later.

          "I've been occupied," Marisol answered dryly. She assumed by how Amelia stood with her arms crossed and death glares in her eyes that she knew about Marisol's true identity and her standing with the Mikaelsons.

          Amelia huffed out a bit of laughter. "You're with them. I know all about it. You've betrayed me."

          "Please," Marisol's lips turned up, "I've done nothing against you. I'm helping a friend, not the entire family."

          The witch narrowed her eyes. "You may say that, but you've already chosen a side, and soon you will have to reap what you sow. I'd warn you that you've chosen wrong, but I doubt it'll change your answer."

          "I'm perfectly content with my choice," Marisol said in defense of herself. She knew that the Mikaelsons had a lot of enemies and she was opening herself up to them, but she was protecting Hayley, and that's what mattered before anything else. She was protecting a friend even if it hurt her, and she could live with the consequences.

          Another baby would not die because of her.

          "Let's hope, because us witches are not kind to our enemies," Amelia mused.

          Marisol shook her head. "I'm not your enemy, and I'm not going to fight you."

          "That's what you say now," Amelia laughed, "Goodbye, Mars – or, do you go by Marisol now? Either way, it won't matter eventually."

          She watched as the young witch stalked away, and though she felt unsettled, she shrugged it off. Looking around at the parade, she decided that she had seen enough, and if she wanted she could come again next year to experience it again as she had done plenty of times before, and headed back to the Mikaelson compound.

          When she arrived, she was surprised to find Klaus, Elijah, and Marcel's bloody bodies dead on the floor. Sighing, she sat down on one of the chairs, and waited for the time to pass because she was sure that they weren't dead dead but just temporarily disposed.

          Time seemed to escape her as she waited, because even after so long she was still horrible with tracking it, and eventually she heard a gasp from one of the bodies and the others began to stir. "Oh, good, you're awake," she announced her presence, and they all began to stand up, regaining their senses. "I don't know what you happened to you all, but it sounds like you had a horrible night."

          "Yes, it wasn't what we expected," Elijah agreed, straightening his suit up, if a bit awkward about it all.

          Marisol cracked a small smile before her eyes found an angry Klaus. "Rebekah, where are you?" he asked once his sister picked up his call.

          "I'm with Davina, and she's dying because of your treachery."

          She blinked. "Oh, did you plan to trap Davina not work? Sad," she shrugged, examining her nails.

          "She's much more powerful than we expected," Elijah blinked, "We underestimated her."

          "Men always do underestimate girls," Marisol nodded, something she had learned many times from experience, especially in the past. Though it occurred now, it was much more prevalent back then, and something she played into quite a lot because it helped her and Magnus out.

          The act became boring immediately, so it wasn't something she was exactly fond of.

          Marisol didn't listen in on the phone call, because she wasn't overly interested in the life of Davina Claire. Though people tugged her one and another like it was tug-of-war, she wasn't particularly interested for a piece of the pie.

          "Oh, come on," Klaus rolled his eyes when he put his phone away, and she decided to finally start listening again, "The stench of your judgment is overwhelming. Need I remind you that Davina just bested the lot of us? I did what had to be done. Don't worry, Elijah, I remain as redeemable as ever."

          "Did she die?" Marisol asked, and they all gave her a look, "What? I wasn't listening. But I guess the death of the witch is tragic. So, sorry."

          "You compelled that boy to poison Davina without consulting Marcel or myself," Elijah looked at his brother, a mix of betrayal and anger in his eyes.

          "You know what the worst part is? It's that you're so predictable, I had to make an alliance with your brother, who I don't even like," Marcel added.

          Any trace of amusement at the scene left Klaus' face. "Judging by your expression, you have something you'd like to share."

          "Damn straight, I do. I got a call from Kieran earlier, right after Sabine and some witches almost got their hands on Davina first," Marcel said, and Marisol furrowed her eyebrows.

          "Am I the only one who doesn't know who this Kieran is? I'm finding myself a bit lost with everything pertaining to Davina," Marisol spoke up, raising her hand a little.

          "Where have you been today?" Marcel shook his head at her, and she was sure that he would be amused if he wasn't so pissed at Klaus.

          "Um, enjoying the festival? Can't you see by my dress?" she indicated to the garment she was wearing, "But whatever, I guess it doesn't matter now. Davina's dead – or maybe not. I don't know at this point, and I think I should care, but I've never met her."

          "Well, it seems like you'll have the chance now," Klaus still stared at Marcel.

          He nodded, and began to share the story of his day where he met with Sabine and got a protection spell on Davina performed so that if she died she wouldn't stay dead. Marisol titled her head, surprised that he would have such forethought for that, and she couldn't help but compliment him on it.

          "So, when you slipped away to allegedly check on your nightwalkers, you were, in fact, colluding with a witch. That's very clever. I suppose I should be proud," Klaus seethed.

          "Eh, I just wanted to make sure I had a failsafe just in case, as Elijah expected, you starting acting like you," Marcel shrugged it off.

          "Except that now you've involved the witches, who, last time I checked, were enemy to us all, to everything we have, and our family."

          "Davina is Marcel's family, Niklaus, or did that somehow slip your mind as you tried to take her life?" Elijah asked rhetorically, "You will call Rebekah. You'll tell her that Davina will recover. I do wish the same could be said for that boy."

          Marisol stood up now with a sigh. "Well, now that we've established she's alive, I think it's time for me to leave. Glad we sorted all of that out. It's good that she's alive, Marcel."

          She offered him a smile, because she was still trying to be friendly even after all her remarks about Davina. She didn't know the witch, and that helped her apathy, but it was good that she wasn't dead because then Marcel would be absolutely devastated, which would be sad, wouldn't it?

          Upon entering her room, she began to undress, watching as the white dress slipped from her body. She remembered it, and the times she had with it, and the way another man used to hold her in it. He had underestimated her, like how they underestimated Davina, and for a moment she could understand the pain the witch must feel.

          She was just a pawn in a much bigger game, and she was only a child. Everyone wanted to use her, but no one wanted her. Even Marcel who loved her used her. That was such a sad life to live, and though she hadn't initially cared about the girl, she vowed that she would try. Davina deserved someone who didn't want a thing from her, and Marisol couldn't find a reason she would need Davina.

          But that would be tomorrow's problem, because tonight had already been long enough, and she was sure that Davina would be exhausted after dying and then not dying after all. So she slipped out of her dress, no longer playing the part of a Casket Girl, and began to prepare for the next day.

authors note
please do NOT ask me to update. it's incredibly annoying seeing these comments, especially from people who have never engaged with the book in any other capacity. it is very unmotivating and makes me not want to update the book. instead, if you want faster updates, interact with the text or at least keep your silence.

if one person comments anything with the word update i promise you won't see one for two months and you will be muted. this may be harsh, but i cannot stand these comments at all so i will not tolerate them