◤ 𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖗𝖙𝖞-𝖘𝖎𝖝: ❛ in her bones ❜ ◢

✧

         MARISOL STARED AT MARCEL WITH AN UNFLINCHING GAZE. The coffee was cold between them, after at least an hour of sitting across from each other in his loft across the French Quarter, trading simple conversation before he stated his new intentions.

"It's happening now," he stared at her gravely, the weight in his words evident even if he didn't specify what he meant, "We're ready."

He held her gaze, unbreaking, and she wished now more than ever that she had the ability to read his mind. To understand his psyche instead of playing guessing games from the outside. On one hand, she knew that Marcel was incredibly capable. He had ruled New Orleans for nearly a century now, and while fair, he kept peace even by extreme measures. He was fully capable and he had the loyalty of many backing him.

But Klaus was old. Much older than Marcel, and older than Marisol. He was smart. The years had taught him wisdom in battle, he knew how to end wars before they were even close to beginning, every move planned out like a chessboard. He had fought many foes and lived to tell the tale while the losers had their graves dug out. Klaus was strong, could take on too many men at once, and he knew that.

While he had weaknesses, they were not ones Marcel would exploit – she knew he wouldn't harm Hayley, he vowed that to her himself – and Klaus had won against kingdoms before. In some ways, her heart ached, beginning to mourn the death of her friend.

She believed in him, as much as she could and as valiantly as she could muster, but she knew Klaus. Differently from Marcel, and not as long, but she saw him long ago, the manipulative spirit living inside him, making you feel safe and understood before the big bad wolf came out to play. He was a dangerous enemy to have, she knew that as well, and Marisol sadly didn't see an ending where Marcel was still standing.

"If you want it to," she broke eye contact, eyes flickering to her cold coffee and then to her hands. She tried not to show her doubt in him, tried not to tell him that she was already planning a funeral arrangement for him, wondering what he might want on his plaque. Someone would have to bury him, and it wouldn't be any of the Mikaelsons, nor would his friends survive, so it would be her. She would take care of him.

"I can't see any alternative. We can't wait forever, and if we don't act now, he'll strike first," Marcel shook his head, "Marisol, you have to understand. I'm doing this for New Orleans."

She laughed a little, standing up, breaking from their simple breakfast. "Don't lie to me like that. You want this. You want to rule, and-and to prove to Klaus that he's not above you. It's not just for New Orleans."

He followed in suit, standing up with his chair scratching back. "Will you help me?"

"You already know I won't," she shook her head, "I told you that from the start. I'm your friend, but I'm not your ally in this war. I'm Switzerland when it comes to you and Klaus. I'm not gonna you fight you either."

"If you're not with me, you're against me," Marcel stated.

"Don't give me that black-and-white bullshit. I'm not choosing between my friend and my partner. I love you, Marcel, I do, but I also love Elijah – I'm not fighting him. You need to respect that."

"Marisol –"

He left his mouth open after the word came out before realizing he didn't know how to respond, and she herself was speechless. She had never admitted that before, not even in her thoughts or dreams. Loving Elijah. It was easy, the feelings now were incredibly easy now that she didn't fight them every step of the way. She shared his bed, and he held her tight, promised her the world, and she pretended that he would burn it for her as she closed her eyes.

And she loved him.

It felt like a silly little thing to admit, or something that should only be whispered under the cover of night, and her heart beat quickly inside her chest because she wasn't ready to say it yet. They traded cares, but they didn't trade love. And she couldn't bear the thought of admitting the state of her heart towards him if he didn't return the affection.

"Please don't make me choose," she said in a softer voice, barely above a whisper. He looked at her with sad eyes but eventually nodded, and she saw for the first time that he accepted her decision – truly accepted it – and wouldn't fight her on the affection.

She let out a sigh of relief, turning her eyes away from him as her hand went up to wipe away the brimming tears. She loved him. It wasn't the first time she had fallen in love, there could be an argument made that Elijah was her first love to begin with, but this...somehow, it felt different.

More powerful, perhaps.

She had loved many men in her lifetime, she had spent years with him, built lives with them, and felt utterly content. She traded the three words with men and meant it fully, but this...this didn't feel like three little words anymore. It felt like everything – like Elijah was everything, and their life was everything.

No, it wasn't the life she would choose to live under any circumstance. Marisol had never been a fan of war, less when she cared for people on both sides. But it was her life with Elijah and that made it everything she could ever ask for.

He gave her his bed, he gave her his power, he gave her caring looks and protectiveness. He gave her love. So it was a bit silly, those three words, but they didn't capture everything. For the first time in five hundred years, it felt like she was home – Elijah was home. He was her beginning in a new life, and he was her life now. He cared for her in a way no one ever had – not even those she loved before.

Now, with them, they didn't matter; only Elijah did. He wasn't just her love; he was her everything.

There was a distance between them. Neither did anything to remedy it. "Thank you," she whispered, her throat tight. Part of her wanted to get closer, to hug him just for a moment, to reassure him that despite the war brewing that she didn't think differently of him, that nothing of their relationship would change, but that was a lie.

Everything's changed.

Maybe, in another life, she could've stood with Marcel and watched the Mikaelsons burn. Maybe, in another life, she could truly be Switzerland, but she wasn't. She was swept up in her emotions, in the love she felt for Elijah, and though she wouldn't fight Marcel, she also wouldn't allow anyone to harm Elijah.

And she would always love Marcel, she would. Nothing about that had changed – would change – but she had changed, the situation had changed – so she spared Marcel another glance before leaving his loft. She didn't feel relieved anymore.

✧

"I FELT LIKE such a fool, you know? Afterwards."

"Because you love him?"

"No, I couldn't help that. No matter how much I tried not to love him, I always did, even if I never let myself admit it. I've loved him in both lifetimes. No, I was a fool because I truly – just for a moment – believed that love was enough."

✧

A SMILE GRACED her lips as she saw him. Her Elijah. It felt childish, like she was a school girl, to call him that – to have that possessive pronoun of hers, but he was. He was her partner, her love, and oh, how she loved him even in a time when love wasn't supposed to be in the air. No, in the air there was tension, there was blood brewing, anger, betrayal, revenge.

War.

"Hey," she said softly as she reached him, stepping further in the Compound, not sparing Klaus a glance as she gave him a chaste kiss, allowing his arms to surround her.

"Hi," he replied, his voice with a bit of edge that caused her to frown.

"What is it?" and oh, how she didn't want to know the answer, know how they were coming even closer to a war she didn't want to fight, but knowing she had to ask anyway. She couldn't be left ignorant; ignorance got you dead.

Elijah sighed, looking displeased, "We haven't heard back from Jackson and Oliver. They were supposed to run and get materials for the moonlight rings."

Marisol hummed, "So now you have to track them down, don't you?"

"Unfortunately," Elijah nodded, "Stay with Hayley and Genevieve?"

"Of course," she agreed, despite the displeasure forming in her stomach at the thought. Genevieve was untrustworthy at best, and her relationship with Hayley was still distant and broken. It would be such a joy to spend her day with them, but everyone had their role to play; hers was babysitter, but it was better than soldier.

He pressed a kiss to her lips and before she could fully reciprocate, they were both and she found herself fighting off a small form threatening to form on her lips. "I'll be waiting," she promised, turning the frown into a coy smile, because it was silly to be upset over something like a small kiss. They would have more in the future.

Klaus cleared his throat, and she turned for the first time to acknowledge him. She blinked in surprise, a little embarrassed that she hadn't truly recognized his presence, to enraptured in Elijah to fully notice him. He sent Elijah a look, causing the older brother to sigh but nod, and then his body was moving away from hers.

She gave him a final wave and then they were gone from her sight. The frown from before finally won, and her shoulders sagged a little but she shook off the disappointment. They would be back soon, and the churning in her stomach that something bad was brewing would disappear, as it always did when Elijah was by her side.

Rolling back her shoulders, she moved to the stairs, walking up them before turning her ears to hear the movements of feet in a room, knowing exactly where to find the two.

"Hayley," she greeted, closing the door behind her, "Genevieve."

The witch didn't miss the slight coolness in Marisol's voice when she was addressed, but knew better than to comment on it. Marisol didn't mind being less than subtle about her dislike, watching as the witch spread herself out across the table looking at different ingredients for those damned moonlight rings as Hayley turned to put her phone away.

"Hey, Marisol," Hayley greeted her in return, "Did Elijah tell you anything else about Oliver and Jackson?"

"I'm sure you were listening in, so you know that he didn't," Marisol reminded her, though her tone held nothing of scolding. With such sensitive ears, it was hard not to eavesdrop, and it was hardly Hayley's fault. Marisol knew better than to think anything at the Compound was truly private, though she liked to pretend otherwise sometimes. "Do you have everything you need for the rings, besides the stones?"

The older werewolf turned to Genevieve, who nodded. "Yes."

Marisol nodded. "Good," and she tried her best to keep any resentment for them out of her voice. Though she would be clear about her thoughts towards Klaus and Elijah, the former who she didn't despise as much and the latter who understand as much as he could why it pained her, she would not let Genevieve know. Not when Genevieve was still clearly aligned with the witches, and was particularly cruel to Davina.

Anger turned inside her thinking about how they treated Davina, and then anger for Davina not calling Magnus, but she had to remind herself that it wasn't her choice – only Davina's. And if Davina wanted to stay in New Orleans, that was her right. She wasn't going to force anything on the girl, not like everyone else.

As Genevieve didn't initiate anymore conversation, neither did Marisol. The less they talked the better, so she settled into the room, taking a seat on the sofa as Hayley continued to check her phone about every half minute, biting her lip anxiously.

She couldn't fault the woman, since after a half hour she did the same, since nothing else in the room particularly interested her. She allowed time to fade away, her phone entertaining her and keeping her thoughts off of Elijah and the brewing war around them, the silence of the room pulling her even further. Then:

"They should have called by now," Hayley frowned, and Marisol's head snapped to her, the falling feeling suddenly gone as she checked her phone to see how much time had passed.

"Worrying isn't going to help. You should sit down, try to keep calm," Genevieve shook her head, gesturing to the couch Marisol was on.

"Yeah," Marisol groaned, standing up, "Here, take it. I can stand for a little while."

Hayley frowned at that. "What are you now, my magician slash zen-life-coach?" she jabbed at Genevieve, crossing her arms.

"The treatment of pregnant women has advanced remarkably since I was a nurse, but even I know high blood pressure is bad for you, and your baby," Genevieve said pointedly, but it was enough for Hayley to sit down, "Especially now, since you're so close to term."

"I hate this. I feel completely useless," Hayley complained.

"Think of this way: you are preparing yourself to give birth, and that means lying down and not worrying your heart out," Marisol tried, but knew it fell flat by the unimpressed look Hayley sent her, "Okay. I know you like to prove that you don't need any help and like to be kicking on the front lines, but you can't, so just have faith that Klaus and Elijah are going to take care of everything. Because they are."

"They're doing it all for you," Genevieve nodded, continuing when Hayley's eyebrow raised, "Seriously, don't you get it? Klaus and Elijah running all over town? You're the point of it. It's all for you. I'm a bit envious."

"Great. Lucky me," Hayley muttered sarcastically.

"Is there anything I can get you?" Genevieve offered, and Marisol stood up a little straighter. There was no way in hell she was going to let this witch out of her sight, or let her give anything to Hayley.

"How about a moonlight ring?" Hayley smiled, a little teasing. The mention of it again made Marisol glance to the window, becoming uncomfortable as it dawned on her again that tonight was a full moon.

Genevieve chuckled at that. "The spell can't be performed until the full moon reaches its apex. And, of course, I need the stones, which will be here soon enough. Like Marisol said, have a little faith!"

✧

"I NEVER HATED being a wolf more than in that moment. Well, the ones that followed, anyway."

"But you told me – you used to hate yourself. I remember you hating yourself."

"Sadly, yes. I thought I was a monster for a long time, you're the one who helped me change that. Seeing you think the same thing...it made me realize how awful that mindset it, how it was out of my control, how – as aggravating it can be – freeing a wolf can be. But that day...that day I never wished more to be human. To be anything. Just...not a wolf."

✧

HAYLEY STOOD UP the moment they heard movement downstairs, accompanied by voices and groans. It was probably too fast, but the woman didn't let it show, rushing as fast as she could out of the room then downstairs. Marisol followed after, only at a much slower and calmer pace, because she was a dignified five-hundred-year-old woman who didn't rush downstairs because her partner was home.

The pregnant werewolf was already throwing her arms around Jackson in relief, thanking Elijah for returning him which he returned with a nod until his eyes found hers. She saw the spark light up in them, the smile twitching on his lips that he didn't fight, the way his body gravitated towards her, and she didn't fight the same feeling inside her bones.

"I told you I'd be waiting," she said playfully, kissing his cheek and taking his hand.

"I hope I didn't keep you waiting for too long," he replied in the same tone and she couldn't help the fond smile that twitched onto her lips.

"Never."

"What about the stones?" Hayley asked, unwrapping herself from Jackson, looking between the Mikaelson brothers.

Elijah sighed. "Scattered across the bed of the Mississippi, I'd imagine."

"What happened?" Marisol frowned.

Klaus poured himself a glass, sparing a glance towards Marisol. "Marcel's not a fool. He knows an empowered werewolf army would mean the end of vampires in New Orleans. The explosion is his way of saying he means to prevent that. For all the good it'll do him."

Marisol nodded, understanding washing over her. Not just for this moment, but for his morning when she was with the vampire. It's happening, he had said, and it wasn't a promise of what to come; it was a declaration of what he was currently occurring. He had already done it, set the motions in place, and was just waiting for the big boom.

"Well, it did him pretty damn well, didn't it?" Hayley asked, looking disappointed by the turn of events.

"This is my fault," Jackson stated, taking the blame, "I'll find a way to fix it."

Hayley shook her head. "No, Jack, you're hurt. No one's blaming you," and to comfort him further, she began to rub his shoulders slightly.

"I'm blaming you!" Klaus raised his glass towards the male werewolf, "Those stones will be hard to replace."

But then he smiled – and it wasn't the normal type of smile of joy, nor the ones of fondness or amusement. No, it had an edge, a glint of the eyes, a mischief. "Fortunately, I always have a backup plan."

He looked particularly pleased with himself because in that moment, footsteps approached the Compound with great intent, revealing Francesca Correa surrounded by five other men wearing suits, one which carried a briefcase.

Marisol sent an uneasy look to Elijah, who simply took her head because he had no assurances to offer her.

"You can't seriously mean her! She's a gangster!" Hayley protested, quite loudly too.

Klaus shrugged. "I see her more as a means of procuring rare items at short notice," and then he turned, giving a wide grin to the new guests, "Greetings, Ms. Correa! I see you've brought company."

"These are my brothers. I always include them in delicate business matters," Francesca introduced them, "Fellas, meet Mr. Mikaelson."

"Please, call me Klaus. All my friends do," Klaus smiled.

"I don't know if I'd call us friends," Francesca said plainly, but the statement made Marisol grasp Elijah's hand even tighter as something inside her bones yelled not to trust the woman, "But, if you and Marcel are planning on having a little throw-down, I'd prefer my family to be on the same side as the inevitable victor."

"Then, you have what I asked for?"

Francesca held out a bag. "Not enough for an army at such short notice, but it's a start."

Elijah let go of her hand, moving forward to interject himself into the conversation. "Strange, I wasn't aware that she was familiar with our plan."

"My price for doing business is full disclosure. Your brother complied."

"And does the Human Faction stand to benefit from all of this?" Elijah questioned, standing tall with a dominating presence at full attention towards the human.

"I only want us to solidify our allegiances to the ruling class. It's good for business," Francesca replied. Marisol pursed her lips, her bones aching for her to protest, to share her skepticism. She dug her fingernails into her hand, allowing the pain to overtake her senses temporarily for a clear head.

Then, she blinked, looking towards Francesca. She was used to the uneasy feeling in her stomach, the feeling that was something was wrong, the feeling which had plagued her whole life, but it had never been so strong until now.

(Though, she mused later, she never had so much to lose.)

"If only everyone shared your capacity for reason," Klaus mused.

"Sadly, they don't. Marcel is being especially vindictive. I'm worried he might come after me, or my family, just for meeting with you. It might be in our best interests if we combine our efforts."

"So be it!" Klaus declared, "The more bodies we have to defend the Compound, the better. Let's get started, shall we?"

He held out his hand, and the moment Francesca took it, her bones dropped. Doom. It felt like doom. Like they had just signed their death sentence, and she scratched at her skin uncomfortably. The way she looked around her – at Francesca and Klaus, at Hayley, at her arms – it reminded her of a vision. Those little dreams she used to have that screamed for a spell, the ache in her magic forcing her to write, to foresee.

But she wasn't a witch anymore. This wasn't a vision. There was no spell – no cure. There was simply unease.

✧

"LIKE YOUR MAGIC? It felt like your magic?"

"No, it reminded me of my magic. The same force, the same feeling in my bones, but it wasn't. You know that I'm not a witch anymore – that I haven't been one in a long, long time. Like you. It just...it felt like I was waking up from a vision, having that ache to write down the spell immediately. I don't know how else to explain it."

"So it was warning you?"

"Yes? I don't know. It shouldn't be possible. I don't have magic, but that feeling...it made me feel like a witch again. Just for a second. It could tell – like the visions – the future."

✧

HER EYES FOLLOWED the movements of Genevieve and Francesca. The feeling in her bones wasn't as prevalent anymore, seeming to understand the message that she wasn't going to openly oppose them, that she held no power in this current predicament, but it still didn't allow her to rest. The most she could do was lean her body against a wall and stare at them, tracking their movements and being sure that nothing was happening.

She didn't realize that Elijah had come up beside her until he spoke, startling her slightly which he chuckled at. "Don't laugh," she weakly protested, jabbing him in the ribs with her elbow. Not enough to cause real pain, but enough that he knew to stop.

"I apologize. I didn't mean to startle you," he stole a kiss, which would usually cause her to melt, but with this panic in her body she couldn't. "They make you uncomfortable," he commented.

"I don't trust them. Especially not Francesca. It's like – it's like I know something isn't right. I've always been able to tell, little things, little feelings, when something is about to go wrong, and I just know. Strongly. I can't trust her, I don't know why Klaus did," she frowned.

"I don't trust her either," Elijah agreed, "But my brother cannot be argued with when he's already made up his mind."

Marisol hummed, unconvinced, but did allow Elijah to interlock their hands. After another pause, Elijah continued, "Jackson left an hour ago and the sun is setting."

"I know, but I can't leave. Not yet," she pulled up their hands and pressed a kiss to his, "I'll leave a little later. I have great self-control and five-hundred years of learning how to resist the full moon at least for a little while. I'll be okay."

She should've left with Jackson, gone to the bayou with him and run around with the other wolves, but she couldn't find it in herself to leave. Her bones refused. Everything inside her insistent on staying and not leaving everyone with Francesca and Genevieve – that she needed to stay.

Francesca dropped her arm which held her phone, crying out, "My people say Marcel is on the move, and he's bringing friends."

Klaus turned immediately to Elijah. "Get Hayley to safety."

Elijah tugged Marisol with him as he went to Hayley, grabbing at her arm. "Come with me."

"No," Hayley pulled herself away, "Someone needs to watch her."

She gestured at Genevieve, and she couldn't help but agree that they shouldn't leave Genevieve by herself.

Francesca looked at Elijah. "You should help Klaus. My brothers and their security detail won't be much against a vampire army. I'll stay with Hayley."

It convinced Elijah enough, but there was still hesitation. "Go," Marisol urged him, pulling him away from the others. "We'll be okay here."

"If you're sure," Elijah interjected.

"I am," she confirmed, "And Elijah –"

She hesitated then. Some part of her screamed to say those three little words, the one she realized this morning, thinking about this exact moment. She couldn't fight against Elijah because she loved him, was in love with him, and she wanted to tell him. He initiated their relationship, had the courage to admit that he cared for her – deeply and romantically – and she should have the courage to admit that she was in love with him.

But then –

Then she looked around, at where they were, at what was coming, and it wasn't the right time. Saying she loved him should be personal, something that came afterwards, when they were safe, when there was no more war brewing, when they could just be Marisol and Elijah for a moment. Not now.

"Be careful," she said instead, pressing her lips to his before he could question what she was actually going to say, holding him in her arms for mere seconds before releasing him. As much as she wanted to, she couldn't hold him forever.

"You too," he said as they parted, sending her one last glance before he was out the door. She swallowed, watching him leave before letting the vulnerability wash over her, leaving only a stoic expression on her features.

She stood next to Hayley, pointedly not looking out the window where the full moon was beginning to stand proud. The wolf inside her was clawing for a release, demanding it but she refused, sinking the growing claws into her palm and allowing the pain to ground her. Now was not the time to turn, now was the time to be human, and she wasn't going to let her wolf force anything else.

Marisol listened intently to the sounds of the room, soaking up the mutters of Genevieve as she cast the spell for the moonlight rings, to the buzzing of Hayley's phone, to the commanding of Francesca, until there was a slam of hands onto the table and Genevieve looked up.

"The stones are finished. I've done my part. Now, it's up to you."

Hayley went over to the table. "I'll get them to the Bayou," she held out her hand for Genevieve to deposit the stones, but then Francesca stepped forward and took them instead.

"Actually, she was talking to me," Francesca smirked.

"What the hell is this?" Hayley demanded, looking between them, and Marisol came to join her.

Genevieve looked guilty as she handed Francesca the stones. "Call it a side deal. The point is, I'm taking the stones."

"Are you out of your mind? You think the humans can go up against Klaus?" Hayley chased after her, Marisol a little in front, placing distance between Francesca and Hayley.

"No, I don't. But, I'm not human," and then she took a knife, slitting the throat of her bodyguard before her body crumbled as she groaned out in pain, head snapping back up to reveal golden eyes and fangs, "I'm like you, Hayley. And now, I'm gonna take back my town!"

And it clicked. Her bones laughed at her, but they were furious, and Marisol allowed the rage to overtake her. She wasn't holding back, allowing her bones to crack and break, allow the wolf its freedom. "Like hell you are!" she growled, lunging at Francesca, ready to go full wolf, before Genevieve cried out and then –

And then nothing.

author's note
it's been a hot minute, but i swear i started this chapter like a month ago and i just could not finish it. i've had such major writer's block since i started college and it's only starting to get better, but this took me the longest time to finish. apparently i just can't seem to let go of marisol and write the final chapters of this book, because sadly yes, there is only one chapter left and then an epilogue.

but!!!! there will be a sequel!!! which is very exciting, i know, and i'm very excited because i love marisol so much and i can't wait to continue her journey with a fresh start on a new book. but i hope you guys enjoyed this chapter!!