𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘-𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍 — the ambush

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𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 was an early one indeed; Ophelia's eyes had been forced open by the muttering of the vampires that dawdled about on the lower ground of the compound. 

The siphon had flung her covers from her body, and with a heavy huff that she was certain the vampires below had heard, she got herself ready... though not before scowling at the numbers on her clock that told her it was only eight in the morning; a normal time to some, but Ophelia was on the brink of praying for a good night's sleep.

She cleaned herself up and quickly covered her puncture wounds with a bandage in the hopes of avoiding another blood ridden outfit if she accidentally disturbed the scabbing. Ophelia had thrown on a simple white cami dress that reached her lower calf, splits running up either leg that was covered in small, red flowers and paired the outfit with red heeled boots and a jean jacket.

With a rather disgruntled and mildly pissed look covering her face, which still had small red lines from the way she slept, Ophelia made her way out of her bedroom and peered over the balcony only to find that a majority of the vampires had vacated the gathering, only Elijah, Niklaus and Marcel remained. What piqued her interest the most, however, was the sight of a mutilated body. A dark-skinned man in a white suit that had splatters of blood covering it... she looked down at her own outfit, a small grimace marring her lips as she noticed the resemblance between herself and the corpse.

Her pace quickened as she made her way to the stairs, her heels clicking against the wooden flooring drawing the attention of the vampires towards her as she rose a brow at the three, "Playdate end badly?" 

Klaus let out a hearty chuckle, "My playdates never go well, love."

"Oh, I believe you." Ophelia countered with a small twitch of the lips as she approached the body and peered down at the sliced neck, "Who's this?"

"Papa Tunde," Klaus responded, his voice a mixture of annoyance and curiosity. His cerulean gaze shifted towards Elijah who was knelt incredibly close to the body. Klaus rolled his eyes at his older brother, his tone full of sarcasm, "Can I get you anything, brother? A magnifying glass? A pipe, perhaps?"

"You have a theory you'd like to share with us, Niklaus?"

Marcel shifted in place, removing his hands from his pockets as he scratched at his cheek in deep thought, "Back in the day, the witches wanted to send a threat, they'd just kill a chicken and leave it on your doorstep."

"It's rather a large and ominous chicken, wouldn't you say?" Elijah commented, causing Ophelia's brow to raise as a small twitch pulled her lips upwards in amusement. 

Klaus himself smiled at his brother's comment before frowning at the sight in front of him, "Papa Tunde defeated Rebekah with ease, almost got the two of us as well. If he was supposed to be the prized fighter, why leave him for dead in our front yard?" 

He had a point; why on earth would someone hijack the Harvest magic to bring back a group of old and powerful witches just to kill one of them off and leave it for the Mikaelson's to find within their own home? It made no sense.

With a flash of blonde, all attention snapped towards Rebekah as she made her way towards the group, a sarcastic smile painted on her pretty face, "Well, don't you look cheery. Listen to this —" her eyes moved towards Ophelia, flicking between the siphon and Marcel who stood beside her, "— A girl literally exploded from a grave today as Sabine was giving a tour of the city of the dead. It was Monique Deveraux."

Ophelia froze, a brief look being exchanged with Marcel... Monique was back; Davina had a chance.

"The tourists thought it was part of the show, but the witches are celebrating like it's some kind of bloody miracle." Rebekah spoke further, crossing her arms before finally meeting Ophelia's eyes, "You were right."

"About what?" Marcel questioned the woman beside him.

The siphon let out a breath, recalling the conversation she had with Rebekah and Elijah the day prior, "My theory was that if the witches that were resurrected with the magic from the harvest were killed, the very magic that brought them back would flow back into the earth and return to its rightful place; the Harvest girls. That's how magic works; it's all about balance."

"This is how we're gonna get Davina back; kill the witch who took her place."

"Exactly," Ophelia confirmed as her eyes met Elijah's. It was as if a lightbulb exploded inside of her brain; her eyes widened as a named spilled from her lips, "Celeste. It has to be Celeste. We never found out why Davina was drawing her, calling her evil... she was warning us... Celeste has to be another of those that the magic brought back to life."

The others followed her with their eyes, watching as she made her way towards the exit of the compound before Rebekah spoke up, "Where are you going?"

There was hope. Ophelia had believed in her theory from the moment it blossomed in her head, but now there was proof, there was proof that the death of one of the old witches would bring back the Harvest girls, and Ophelia would not stop until they were dead and Davina was back.

"To slaughter the first witch I find."

⋆⋆⋆

Her statement was true. She would drain whichever old and resurrected witch of their magic and kill them the first chance she got. But there was something else she needed to do first; ever since Davina's... death, Ophelia hadn't set foot inside the Lafayette cemetery where the young girl was laid to rest, she had never visited nor left flowers for the poor girl. But now, she had too, she could at least make sure that there were vibrant flowers upon Davina's return to welcome her back; or perhaps it could quell the guilt.

And so, Ophelia had stopped by a petit flower store, one with only a few people milling about and taking in the scents of the colorful plants. As ever, Ophelia's hands gravitated towards a small bunch of pink peonies, after all, they were both her favorite and Davina's favorite.

The flowers that Marcel had been leaving for the girl were wilted; yellows, and reds fading to brown as the sun that shone over New Orleans beamed down on the petals. Ophelia took the weak and decaying flowers, tossing them to a patch of grass where they could decompose before replacing them with the baby pink flowers with a light sigh.

Her finger delicately traced the letters that were carved into the stone tomb, "You'll be back soon." she whispered with a heavy heart that surged at the thought of seeing the girl she thought of as family once again.

"Are you so certain?" A voice responded, prompting Ophelia to slowly face whoever joined her. Ophelia frowned when she caught sight of Sabine of all witches.

"I'm sure you've heard that Monique is back in the land of the living."

"I have. Wonderful news."

"Yeah, you sound ecstatic." Ophelia drawled out as she scanned her eyes over Sabine.

Sabine chuckled, her arms swaying by her side casually, something that struck Ophelia as odd; most witches, hell, almost every creature that went bump in the night cowered away from her in fear of the ability she possessed, and yet there Sabine was acting as if Ophelia wasn't anything to be afraid of at all. "You know, you've caused a lot of trouble for the witches."

"No, I haven't. Witches hate what I am, they hate that I protected Davina from the Harvest, and they hate that I stand by the Mikaelson's."

"Ah yes, the Mikaelson's." Sabine began to pace, her words slow, almost calculating; something that caused Ophelia's eyes to narrow and her hands to twitch by her side. "You've definitely caught their attention, haven't you? Rebekah's new BFF, Klaus's new weapon... and Elijah..." her tone grew hard, "He's smitten."

Ophelia stayed silent as she kept her eyes on the woman, watching as she paced in front of her, mindlessly looking over the different tombs that surrounded them. "Are you approaching a point, Sabine —" Ophelia paused, the women's 'name' dying on her tongue, "— Oh, I see... not Sabine."

"I see why he likes you. Smart and powerful."

"A lot like you then... Celeste?"

Celeste smiled as her steps came to a stop, "How'd you guess?"

"The drawing Davina left, I recall Hayley telling me that it was your vision that predicted the death of the last elder... and without her, the Harvest couldn't be completed; because you wanted to control it, you wanted to bring Papa Tunde back, along with whoever else, all for the Mikaelson's. It's Klaus's fault you died, and you want payback, don't you?"

"Very good. But it's not just Klaus that needs to learn his lesson. I died because of the little pact they have; 'always and forever'." Sabine practically hissed her words and though Ophelia could understand her motives for wanting Klaus to be brought to harm; Elijah had loved her, she knew he did, she had seen the way he cradled her dead body close, begging for her to come back.

"Elijah loved you, why would you want to hurt him?"

"Elijah still stands by his beast of a brother, doting on him as if he were a child. Klaus deserved punishment for what he did to me, to the others... they all do."

Ophelia blinked. Centuries had passed and Celeste still lived, and yet she had made it her goal to bring down the entire family of originals rather than moving on to pursue her life; not many people get a second chance and she was spending her second go at life by chasing after Klaus. Revenge was a tricky thing; did you go after those who wronged you, or did you move on? 

Either way; the lengths that Celeste had gone to, to make sure that the family fell and crumbled was beyond extortionate. "You are insane. You have a chance to start over and you spend your days chasing after Klaus Mikaelson? You spend it by chasing after Elijah, a man you loved, just because he stuck with his family?"

"Of course you'd be the one to defend them. Ophelia Parker, the woman who murdered her family, you fit right in." Celeste practically glowed at the shock on Ophelia's face, "Oh, the ancestors know all about you and believe me, they whisper things about the Gemini coven into most witches' ears... I do wonder if the ancestors have told your little Davina of the night you butchered your family?."

Ophelia's jaw was tight, her teeth clenched together so hard that she thought they could fall out; but it was the only way to keep herself from showing any emotion, she wasn't about to give into Celeste's taunts. It probably wasn't the smartest idea, but she wanted to return the favor to the witch... so she did, "You know, it's funny —" Ophelia laughed, "— My name's Ophelia and yet you are the one that drowned to death, how was that?"

Celeste scowled, her face full of pure thunder as she sneered down at the woman before her, and as much as she wanted to walk up to the siphon and slap her, well, she was smarter than that. That had been Ophelia's only plan, piss her off to the point that Celeste got close enough so she could latch her hand around her arm and drain her power.

"Clever, trying to get me to hurt you, to touch you so that you can siphon me... The thing is, I don't need to touch you."

Celeste threw out her hand and immediately Ophelia's head erupted in pain; it felt like she was burning from the inside out, and she couldn't stop the scream that forced its way past her lips. Blood trailed from her nose, she could feel it, she could taste it as it dropped to her lips. Her vision blurred as black dots appeared and she could barely register the feeling of her knees hitting the ground. 

Then it stopped. Ophelia groaned, a mixture of pain and relief filling her as the pressure on her skull released its hold, and being the 'fearless and reckless' woman she was; she lifted her head, dark eyes boring into Celeste's, bloodied teeth showing through her grin as she spat, "Is that all you've got?"

Though the smile never left Celeste's face, in fact, it grew. Footsteps, two sets sounded out from behind Ophelia and before she could even think of turning her head, two needles were plunged into her neck, one either side and she was out like a light.

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Ophelia never quite stayed conscious enough to completely remember what the three remaining, resurrected witched did to her. But every time a small sliver of light forced her eyes to crack open, she could feel a numbness. Her body was weak and aching; every single inch. 

She could feel her bones snap with the use of magic, only for the witches to fuse them back together again and again. They were smart at least; it made the pain almost worth it. If she was to be harmed by witches, she'd much prefer that they were smart and not some run of the mill idiot that simply waved their hands about in the hopes of causing pain.

Every time her eyes managed to open; the sky grew darker. When she had been ambushed the sky had been a pale blue with bundles of white that floated by without a care in the world, then it was a blue that was mixed with a grey, eventually orange arrived to overshadow the magnificent blue... and now, a dark navy with small speckles of white that glinted as her eyes finally pulled open.

"You're quite adamant on waking up; that witch hazel should have kept you out for hours." a voice spoke from behind Ophelia as she reached out a finger, trailing it across the siphons jaw until the witch stood before her. As much as the siphon tried, her eyes simply wouldn't focus. Her vision was fading, filled with more and more static as seconds passed before she heard another light laugh as she faded.

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The next time Ophelia awoke, her lungs ached and she could taste a mixture of blood and smoke on her tongue. Vibrant shades of orange, red and yellow danced around her and billows of ashen grey spurted from the colors and mixed with the air. She could hear two voices, though they sounded as if they were plunged in deep waters, nonetheless she heard them. One was a woman, coughing and spluttering, the other was a man with a deep and raspy voice.

Ophelia inhaled deeply; though that was a mistake and her lungs were filled with thick air mixed with smoke. Fire. That's what the colors were.

She bolted upright, her head and vision spinning like a globe on its axis and a hand clamped on her shoulder. She turned her head, blinking through the smoke as Hayley's face came into view, as did the man's. She had no idea who the man was but he too made his way over, his large hands gripping her and pulling Ophelia to her feet.

The siphon stumbled, her body still feeling the effects of the witch hazel that was slowly running through her veins, but even so, she tried her best to keep herself upright with the help of the man whilst Hayley grabbed her other arm and steadied her. Nobody spoke, every breath filled their lungs with ash, and the more they breathed, the weaker they got.

The flames were slowly creeping from the edges of the room and towards the trio, the only way Ophelia knew to get them out was magic, so with a sluggish movement, she turned her head to Hayley, "I need magic. I need to siphon."

"Siphon me." The man beside her spoke, his voice loud and clear through the haze. He and Hayley had spoken about the woman they were holding up throughout the night, to say that the man was surprised by what Ophelia could do was certainly an understatement. 

Ophelia didn't bother with any further pleasantries, warnings, or words. She nodded silently and latched a weakened hand around the man's wrist, each of them watched as her hand began to glow and the man began to wince. The magic made her feel stronger, a spark of energy igniting within Ophelia that made it somewhat possible to ignore the aches in her bones and muscles as she stumbled forward and towards the open door that was blocked by a sea of flames.

The heat licked at her skin that was already dirtied and covered in her own blood and sweat. The flames were growing stronger and higher, almost ravenous but as Ophelia held out her hands towards the flames and muttered incoherent words and chants beneath her breath, the roaring flames began to fade. They lowered until embers groaned weakly on the ground before disappearing entirely, leaving a path for the three to follow.

Ophelia staggered onwards and into the entrance hallway of the plantation home with Hayley and the rugged man on her tail as they choked on the dirtied air. The front door to the home was covered in vibrant flames that clawed at the wood and crept along the floor, ever closer to the trio. Just like she had done before, Ophelia held up her shaking hands, and with a few confusing mumbles of Latin words; the flames dissipated.

With a heavy exhale that was most likely filled with particles of ash and dust, Ophelia trudged forward, her feet stumbling as she did. She gripped the handle of the door in her hand and could immediately feel the magic that was barricading them inside the burning building, within seconds, the magic that was keeping them trapped began to flow into Ophelia's body.

Her breathing was slowly fading as more ash and thick air filled her lungs; chokes and splutters fell from Ophelia's bloodied lips before she finally closed her eyes, "Phasmatos Tribum, Melan Veras, Et Vasa Quisa, Exu Quisa!"

The door flew open, each one flew off its hinges and tumbled down the steps that lead to the front door with a loud clatter. They landed at Elijah's feet.

His dark gaze traveled from the burnt wooden doors and up to the entrance of the home; Ophelia had fallen to her knees in sheer fatigue whilst the man that was assisting Hayley brought the pregnant wolf into the fresh air as they both cleared their throats of the ash that had lined them.

Without a second thought, Elijah sped towards the three, scooping Ophelia up and into his arms, nodding towards the man who helped Hayley down the steps of the charred and flame ridden building. Her breathing was shallow, he could hear the rasp that lined each hoarse breath; his dark eyes glistened with worry as he assessed the women's face; cuts, bruises and blood stained her features as well as the skin on her arms.

Once he reached the other two at the bottom of the steps and safely away from the fire, he carefully helped Ophelia stand; she wobbled and gripped at her head, but after a beat, she was solid and standing on her own. 

Her head was still pounding from the amount of witch hazel that laced her blood, but she had suffered far worse and far larger doses from her own parents. Her thoughts were swimming, a mess of confusion as they settled into place. Her head snapped up and her matted, blood-coated hair fanned around her, "Hayley? Are you okay?"

"Me?" Hayley asked incredulously, her voice still breathless, "I'm fine. What about you? You're covered in blood, Ophelia."

"The uh — the resurrected witches ambushed me, pumped me full of witch hazel and took out their... frustration on me." Before anyone could respond, Ophelia narrowed her eyes, "Where's everyone else?"

"Yourself and Hayley were not the only ones that Celeste and the others have targeted." Elijah spoke up, his gaze lingering on the burning home before him, "I had a choice; save my siblings or the two of you."

Ophelia pondered for a moment, she knew why the witches wanted Klaus and Rebekah; they wanted to punish Elijah, punish the whole family... but what on earth were they planning to do? They couldn't kill the originals, so what did they have planned? She could see the guilt stirring inside of Elijah's dark eyes for choosing herself and Hayley over his siblings. Her bloodied and ash-covered hand lightly grasped his arm, "Go and find them, we'll be fine."

There was a beat of hesitance as Elijah stared down at her, his eyes glossing over each speck of blood, each bruise and cut before he sighed and nodded, his body becoming a blur as he sped into the forest that had been plummeted in the darkness of the night.

⋆⋆⋆

As it turned out, Jackson, the man who had been with Hayley, was in fact the wolf who had come to Ophelia's aid back when the siphon had saved Hayley from the gaggle of witches in the woods. The two exchanged their thanks for saving one another's lives and Hayley wasted no time in spilling who exactly Jackson Kenner was.

To say that Ophelia was shocked when she heard that Hayley had been promised to Jackson; betrothed, would have been an understatement. It was a tiring night, many revelations were revealed and much blood had been spilled, and all Ophelia wanted was to succumb to the witch hazel that begged her to sleep.

Thankfully she didn't have to wait too long; Elijah returned just minutes after he had disappeared into the trees. A solemn look was on his face, clearly, he had no such luck in prying any valid information from the witches, and in silence, he whisked the girls away and back towards the abattoir. 

Hayley had helped Ophelia back to her room, and the wolf, still covered in ash, had to lend a hand to the siphon as she got herself clean and dressed. Ophelia's body seemed to have been numbing, slowly from her fingers and toes black veins began to spread until her body could no longer hold her up, and Hayley had wasted no time in pulling the siphon to bed.

"Hayley?" Ophelia croaked, her breathing was ragged and her voice was weak as she tried her best to move even a single finger, "I think the witches put a curse on me."

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27-04-2021