𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘-𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑 — the tears and truth

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𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐍 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓 down from the black sky that hung above them, grey clouds swirled and stirred as lashes of lightning parted them. The deep rumbles of the thunder continued on, its growls echoing through the dark sky.

Ophelia stared up at the sign of the cemetery, her clothes were soaked through and stuck to her skin uncomfortably, the harsh pelts of rain made red splotches erupt on her skin and yet the cold water that streamed down her face and onto the ground didn't make her shiver.

Marcel held Davina in his arms, the poor girl was too weak to even walk a few steps without stumbling. Her own dress clung to her; her sodden strands of brunette hair plastered over her face as they latched onto her skin. She was shivering, but not from the rain, she was shivering in fear. 

Davina was scared beyond belief that she would never see Ophelia or Marcel again. Terrified that the knife that was to slice her neck, would end her life and that would be it. No comeback. No revival.

Ophelia's jaw was tight as she looked to her side, Davina's arm suspended in the air; seeking the comfort that Ophelia could offer simply by holding her hand. So the siphon lifted her own, water falling from her like a gushing waterfall as she intertwined her fingers with Davina's.

The siphon swallowed, her head snapping forward with a barely concealed grimace as Marcel finally took a step forward.

Their steps splashed in puddles and sent splatters of water towards them, not that they noticed in their already soaked clothes. 

The final stage kicked in. A mighty fire erupted behind the three of them as they continued to trudge through the old cemetery. The fire bit at their heels, the heat that radiated from the flickering flames did little to warm or comfort them. It grew with each step until it could be seen over the tops of the large monuments that made the cemetery. 

Neither of them cared to even direct a single look back, they kept moving. The names that were carved into the graves were unintelligible until they passed; the roaring fire shedding some light in the dark night as billows of smoke crawled into the air in the hopes of encapsulating the stars.

Ophelia was chewing mercilessly on her blue-tinted lip. She could taste the metallic blood that dribbled from the wound she had made; it coated her mouth and all she could do was focus on the crimson that traveled down her throat, trying her best to avoid the inevitable darkness she was about to be plunged into.

They finally made it. The stage was set; Elijah, Klaus, Rebekah and Hayley were all gathered, umbrellas clutched in their hands as their eyes glued onto the newcomer's forms. Rebekah breathed a light sigh, she was relieved that the storm of fire would end, that the city would prevail. But she couldn't imagine the way that both Ophelia and Marcel were feeling. They were losing family. 

Her heart ached for Ophelia, she was the one who knew of the siphons past, the one who had sat, listened and comforted the woman as she spilled her darkest times. The way she had looked when she spoke of her family turning on her, the way she looked when she spoke Kai's name... Rebekah would see that every time Ophelia heard or muttered the young witch's name if the ritual failed.

She didn't believe in any sort of higher power; after years of roaming the earth and finding no such being, how could she? But then and there she internally prayed for the little witch. She begged for her to return so that she could live her life in a way that Rebekah herself had not been able to, so that Davina, Ophelia and Marcel had one another.

Elijah stood with the wooden umbrella handle clutched in his hand, his eyes lowering for a moment when Ophelia accidentally caught his eye. He understood why she and Marcel had stolen Davina away, they were protecting family, none knew that better than he... and he couldn't imagine the pain that she must have been feeling, knowing she had to watch a child get slaughtered.

Even Klaus, as he stared down, could see the woman in a way he hadn't before. She looked broken. She tried to hold her head high, but her shoulders were slouched. She tried to maintain that impassive stare on her face, but it crumbled. He did feel guilty. Seeing the look in Marcel's eyes made the guilt sting further, though he brushed it to the side, just as he always did.

Ophelia steeled herself as best she could as she brought her eyes to Sophie. The woman stood on the altar, the three other harvest girls laying still at her feet. Both Ophelia and Marcel walked up the steps and Davina's grip on Ophelia's hand never left even as Marcel gently set her onto her bare feet.

This was it. Ophelia slowly began to untangle her hand from Davina's who spun, gripping it with both hands. "I'm scared."

The siphon's shoulders fell, her head lolling to the side as she stared up at the young girl. She cursed herself as her throat once again began to close, the signal of oncoming tears. She lightly pulled her stone-cold hand from Davina's and rose both to the young witch's cheeks, carefully pulling her head down until she was able to press a light kiss to her forehead.

"Me too..." Ophelia whispered against Davina's blisteringly hot skin before she pulled back and looked into the girl's terrified eyes, "But I believe in you. You can do this, Davina Claire. I know you can."

Each of the vampires heard the siphon's words and stared on with soft eyes, even Klaus. 

A sopping wet hand slowly appeared in Ophelia's peripheral; Marcel's. She swallowed and gave Davina a nod and the best smile she could muster and the second Davina turned away from them, it fell. The shivers had finally set in, wracking Ophelia's entire body, even as the flames licked at their heels.

She placed her hand in Marcel's and the two gripped each other tightly. Watching would be brutal to them both, but they were there for Davina, no matter what.

The four pillars that stood proud at each corner of the altar lit up, a small flame building as it tried to stretch its way through the pouring rain. Sophie stepped closer to the warmth of the flickering flame, holding the ceremonial athame in her hand as she brought it over the heat, twisting the blade once or twice before pulling away.

Ophelia swallowed at the sound of Sophie's footsteps. The witch approached Davina, a look of determination... no, a look of desperate determination written on her features as she stared into the young Harvest girls' eyes, "Do you believe in the harvest?"

Davina closed her eyes for a moment, steeling her nerves before opening them and nodding, "I believe."

Ophelia surged forward, her hand leaving Marcel's the moment the blade that Sophie held made contact with Davina's throat. The young girl gasped, blood trailing from the slice, littering her pure white dress before the life faded from her former glittering eyes and she fell backwards, into Ophelia's awaiting arms.

She could see Hayley and Rebekah flinch, each of the girls turning their heads away. Elijah looked down, unable to watch the innocent child... Ophelia's sister die. Klaus merely blinked, used to such horror, though guilt was in his veins, and he, like the rest of them, truly hoped the ritual would work.

Marcel copied Ophelia's actions, stepping forward, his arms reaching out just in case, but the witch fell into Ophelia who lowered the pair of them to the ground. She wasn't cold, even as she held Davina's lifeless body, she could no longer feel the cold. She felt numb.

The rain stopped in sync with the gasp the girl had emitted, and everything went silent. Davina's arm glowed and Ophelia could sense the magic, her eyes glued to the glow as it traveled down Davina's arm, to her hand and finally it flowed into the earth. 

She couldn't breathe, she was just as still as the silent air, she was just as still as Davina. Her eyes couldn't move from Davina, frozen on her almost peaceful looking face. She looked like she was sleeping and Ophelia could only hope that she'd soon wake up.

⋆⋆⋆

Each of the four sacrificed girls laid in a row, all with crimson slashes across their necks. Even so, their youthful faces seemed peaceful and as Ophelia looked towards the one she considered family, she supposed that, in a way, Davina laying in 'limbo', peaceful and calm, was better than watching the girl sob and scream as her magic took over. 

Ophelia stood by Marcel's side, Ophelia as still as the girls that were lined up, Marcel on the other hand was twitching, twisting and shifting his weight between each foot as the nerves, the fear of losing Davina crawled up from the ground to his heart. 

Ophelia was the embodiment of a statue. Hands pressed flat against her thighs, dead eyes staring and hardly blinking, afraid that if she removed her gaze from Davina, she would simply disappear. The one part of her that moved like no tomorrow was her heart, it thudded as if she had run a marathon, shattering the encasement of ice that had once surrounded it.

The siphon and the vampire were stood on the opposite side of the altar to the original family and Hayley. Each of them glancing between the girls and those opposite them. Elijah stood with his hands in his pockets; eyes flickering between Davina and Ophelia, he could hear her heart pounding away, all of the vampires could, and he was almost certain that it was about to burst out of her chest. 

"After the Harvest comes the Reaping." Sophie called out, every eye darting towards her from, bar Ophelia's whose stayed on Davina, "Their sacrifices made and accepted. We call upon our Elders to resurrect the chosen ones."

The night was deadly silent. Not a chirp of a restless bird, not the rustling of a single tree in the wind. Everybody could feel the anxiety growing, building into a small ball in the pits of their stomachs. This needed to work. 

"We call upon our Elders to resurrect the chosen ones..." Sophie tried again, her head facing the pitch-black sky. Nothing happened. Her voice grew hoarse as tears filled her eyes. "Resurrect your chosen ones... Please? I beg..."

Ophelia swallowed harshly; her teeth clenched together so hard she thought they might shatter. It wasn't working. Her eyes hurt, burned and steadily her cheeks became wetter, her chest filling with deep gulps of air as he had darted to Marcel's. She could feel him shaking under her sweaty palm.

Another beat passed.

And another.

And yet another.

Nothing.

Nothing was happening.

Sophie fell to her knees as a deep sob escaped her lips and Ophelia could tell that she was well on her way to looking exactly the same. Salty tears gushed out of her eyes, almost as harsh as the rainfall that had soaked and chilled her to the bone.

Her ears were ringing; she couldn't hear the heart-breaking noise that escaped her, but by the way faces flew in her direction and the looks they held, it was awful. Her knees shook beneath her and Marcel scooped her up before anyone could witness anything more. He cast a dark look towards Klaus, hatred burning in his iris's as the woman in his arms allowed him to hold her.

Marcel was still for a moment, tears of his own falling into Ophelia's already soaked brunette hair before he finally whisked the two of them away.

⋆⋆⋆

She could hear them arguing, Klaus and Marcel. They had fought for a while before it all went silent. All she could hear after was the ticking of her clock, it was grating. She wanted to throw it, stamp on it, anything. 

The usually soothing scent of rose mixed with peony did nothing to calm her. Her heart was erratic, her fingers twitched and her eyes were dull. She leaned on the balcony, cool air breezing past her slightly damp and still unbrushed hair. The puddles leftover from the flood of rain reflected the bright lights of New Orleans, and all Ophelia wanted to do was shut them off.

She wanted to be shrouded in darkness and silence.

She wanted to scream.

But she did nothing. Her eyes stayed fixated on the rippling puddle below, as if she were unable to move them away, and that was exactly what was wrong; she was stuck inside of her own head.

All she could hear were the sobs from earlier in the evening, the fear on Davina's face at having to finally give in to the Harvest. The way she spoke her heartfelt words to both Ophelia and Marcel, making sure to get them out; just in case, had utterly broken the siphon.

A light, almost hesitant knock rapped at her bedroom door, and yet she stayed unmoving. She could hear the doorknob squeak as somebody twisted it, the sound of the door creaking open followed soon after.

"Ophelia?" Elijah's velvet-smooth voice called out before he shut the bedroom door behind him. He could see her leaning on her balcony, elbows on the railing, hands clasped together with her chin resting atop of them. The lights of the city reflected off the drying trail of tears that had fallen down her flushed cheeks. "Davina was family to you, I'm so sorry."

A low, humorless chuckle escaped the back of her throat, her head shaking just slightly, "Murder one, lose another hm?"

His steps paused, the sound of his shoes clicking against the wooden flooring vanishing as he almost recoiled at her words. His brows furrowed as his mouth opened for a second before he finally questioned her, "What do you mean?"

"Rebekah didn't tell you then? I mean, I trust her, but she seemed adamant on you knowing."

"Ophelia-"

"-I killed my family." She slowly straightened herself and turned around, her eyes meeting his from where she stood on the balcony to where he was frozen in the middle of her bedroom, his black suit contrasting against the vibrant white room. "Myself and my brother; we murdered them."

Her mind was tired and numb, she had lost the girl who she had come to adore, she had lost yet another person who had somehow found it within themselves to love the unlovable siphon, and she was gone. So why not tell everyone? Why not shout from the rooftops that she sliced her siblings' neck, that she stabbed a knife into her mother's beating heart? They'd be scared, stay away and never again would she get close to somebody. 

She'd be saving herself.

"You've spoken to Rebekah?" Elijah questioned as he took slow steps forward, "My sister she... adores you. Whatever tragedies you've faced, she had clearly seen them as redeemable, justifiable. I've told you that you don't need to explain yourself to me, you don't need to disclose your past. I meant the words I spoke when I told you it is simply an honor to know who you are now. If you wish to tell me, I will listen, you can tell me anything, I give you my word."

The siphon scoffed, of course she would say that she murdered her family alongside her brother and his response was 'you don't need to explain yourself', he seemed relatively shocked, but he didn't seem to be disgusted or repulsed. He was an original, like she had uttered before, she supposed she fit in.

And so, much like she had told Rebekah, she trailed her way to her bed, sitting down stiffly as she directed her dark gaze towards him, her eyes lingering for a moment before she finally opened her mouth and repeated the story she had only ever told to the original sister.

He stayed completely silent, allowing her to get each of her words out; she told him everything from their childhood; which he obviously had a small insight on already, to their treatment after their birthday, the abuse, neglect and everything in between.

She told him about the Gemini coven and could see the way his eyes flashed with recognition. She explained the merge and how it was to be Malachai and Josette to participate, that is of course until their siphoning abilities came to light and their parents devised their own little plan to change the outcome for the coven; ensuring it would never be Kai ruling them.

Then she got to the night of the massacre. The night they would enact Malachai's plan. She painted the picture well, each word turned into the stroke of a brush as she described the blood that coated the walls and their skin. The way Kai took charge and killed three of their siblings, wounding Jo. The way she sliced a steady line into her younger siblings' neck before plunging the knife into her mother's back, stopping her heart as the woman attacked her brother. 

He didn't bat an eye. The words she had uttered made sense to him, just as it had to Rebekah. Had he been in her position, he would have done the same thing. He had down the same thing, time and time again for Klaus, and he still would.

The tone in her voice dropped when she began to speak of how Josette finally agreed to the merge, and he immediately realized that something terrible must have happened. He also came to a rather sudden realization that the woman was older than she seemed, just as he assumed she could have been. He pulled together the facts that she was twenty-two on the night of the merge, the required age, but this happened nineteen years ago... she was in her forties. 

She spoke of the failure that was the merge, how they came to find out that Jo had stored her magic, tricking both siblings into being surrounded by a powerful coven, including their father who sent them away.

That was when he finally spoke, his eyes watching the stray tears that fell over her cheeks, "A prison world?"

"A replica of this one, except there are no other people..."

"You lived in solitude for nineteen years?" it made sense that the woman beside him had been guarded, cold and intimidating. She was not only protecting herself, but she had to get reintroduced to being a part of a normal world, a world with people.

Her head bobbed in confirmation. Fatigue was eating away at her; her words were beginning to slur and her eyelids felt as heavy as the rainfall that had washed over New Orleans, "I did. Just me, completely alone in a different version of New Orleans..." a huff of a laugh escaped her, drawing his attention, "And the place I stayed was actually the plantation."

So that was why she seemed to have been inspecting their previous home when she had offered to help Hayley. He had originally believed she showed an interest in the vintage décor, but clearly, she was simply seeing if it were the same. "How is it that you managed to find your way back?"

"The Harvest. It's power somehow manifested in the prison world; I could feel it almost tugging at me. I followed the feeling into the cemetery. My head felt like it was exploding, it was filled with images of these girls getting their throats sliced open, and before I knew it, I opened my eyes in the cemetery that we just came from. Where I had saved Davina and Marcel."

"I understand why you were reluctant to share, however, your story, your past hasn't changed how I or Rebekah see you. I can only speak for myself, Ophelia, but you are an incredibly strong woman, the things you have been through and yet you find it within yourself to care, even after those who were supposed to keep you safe and care for you, failed you."

"I wish I didn't. I wish I didn't care because now -" her voice cracked as she ducked her head, a brunette curtain surrounding her as Elijah watched solemnly, " -now Davina's gone, she's dead and I - I don't know what to do." she lifted her head and turned to Elijah, red and puffy eyes on full display, "I loved her and now she's gone. What do I do?"

The sound that she had emitted back in the cemetery made it's way out once again; a harsh sob echoing through the room. Her hands shook as they made their way to her hair, gripping at it with all her might. The muscles in her chin trembled as if she were nothing but a small child, the raw sounds of absolute heartbreak spilling like her tears.

Arms wrapped around her, pulling her close. Elijah tucked her head into his chest, his hands gently prying her own away from her hair. A hand rubbed her back, another cupping the back of her head as her entire body shook with each hoarse cry.

Nobody had ever seen her in such a state and Elijah was never quite one to sit and console in such a way, but her distress tugged at his own heart and he pulled her close without a second thought, his voice a low whisper as his chin rested atop her head, "You do whatever you can. You live, for Davina."

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26/02/2021