𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐘 — the letter

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𝐒𝐓. 𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐄'𝐒 𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐑𝐂𝐇 was silent, bar the droplets of blood that dripped down the steps of the altar.

Hayley Marshall was gone, just a pile of bloodied sheets left in her wake; when she had awoken from what she, and those that cared for her, thought would be an eternal sleep... The sound that had torn from her parched throat was heart-wrenching.

Her shaking and red-tinted hands had brushed away the hair on Ophelia's cold forehead. Her neck had just a shallow wound; something that confused Hayley greatly... How could so much blood have poured from such a shallow cut?

But her head was not clear; thoughts of a dead best friend and a missing daughter plagued her mind... And so did a seemingly unquenchable thirst.

After the transitioning werewolf had finally managed to part from the body of her friend; the church returned to silence. 

Seconds of quiet in the bloody halls turned to minutes and then there was a gasp.

The blood-splattered body rose, with a chest that heaved and gasped for air.

Ophelia sucked in air, choking and spluttering as she cleared her throat of any lingering blood, fingers coming to shakily caress her neck, where her wound should have been.

Everything that had happened flashed before her eyes; Francesca betraying them, waking up in the church to the screams of Hayley and Klaus.

Hayley.

Ophelia rose to her feet at breakneck speed, stumbling slightly as she managed to catch herself. Her eyes trailed along the puddles of blood that lingered on the ground, seeping into the wooden floor. She could see everything more clearly, each splatter on the mahogany wood seemed brighter, more defined. Her head whipped around so fast that her neck clicked rather painfully.

"Right, enhanced speed..." She muttered to herself, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth as her steps echoed throughout the church. Her brows pulled together at the sight on the altar; white sheets stained with crimson was all that laid there; the body of her friend... Gone.

Ophelia wracked her brain for answers; she was a puzzle solver and she knew the Mikaelsons wouldn't have left her to rot in a church whilst they dutifully carried Hayley away... So the she-wolf must have... And then it clicked; baby Mikaelson had Niklaus's blood flowing through her veins... And therefore, so did Hayley; she had transitioned, Hayley was a hybrid.

Her arm reached behind her, grasping at one of the church pews as a wave of dizziness hit her, an insatiable urge to eat or drink anything in sight... Even her own blood that was smeared along the ground seemed to be calling to her.

She knew what she needed. She needed blood, and she needed it now. 

The guilt of satisfying her own hunger over seeking out her family clawed at her, but she knew she'd be of little use if she wasn't at full strength; that much had been demonstrated earlier and ended with her death.

The sounds that surrounded her were mind-numbingly loud, everything was... Intense; the melodic sounds of jazz felt like razors grating at her skull. The laughter that radiated the city sounded like a catfight in an ally.

Deep breaths were inhaled and exhaled before she finally made her way out of the church with somewhat of a leash around the new monster that she had become; it was thrilling, running at such a speed, seeing the lights blur like a Van Gogh painting.

But then everything faded and all she could focus on was the giggling of a woman just meters away from her; the pounding of her heart, the thudding of her jugular, and the scent of her blood.

She was entirely alone, not a single other person around, and like that, something snapped and Ophelia heard her scream as she pointed at the siphon — vampires face. Ophelia couldn't control herself, not that she wanted nor needed to, and thus she sped forward, sharp fangs meeting flesh in an instant.

It was euphoric, the tang of metal was no longer there; instead a mixture of sweetness and bitterness coated her tongue. Ophelia thought back to when Elijah had awoken all ashen and grey, lusting for blood. She couldn't imagine the self-control the man must have possessed, or the amount of strain it took for him to keep still and not sink his teeth into herself or Davina.

The screams subsided, and once Ophelia heard silence she let go. Her teeth slipped out and transformed into her more... Human-looking ones, she freed the dead woman from her bruising grip, ignoring the blood she had drawn from holding her too tight.

Ophelia had transitioned... But something was amiss, something felt off.

The glare of the rising sun caused Ophelia to bring her gaze to the sky, and with wide eyes she brought her hands up, twisting them in front of her.

"I'm not burning?" She muttered to herself as she eyes her scarlet hands, "Why aren't I burning?"

It was safe to say that despite her confusion, she was incredibly thankful; how disappointing it would have been to die by a blade, rise again, just to die from the sunlight.

She didn't linger on the thought for long, eyes trailing from her coated fingers to her wrists. She was a mess; her mouth sticky and slick with the woman's blood that trailed down her neck and eventually merged with the blood that was spilled from her own neck. Her fingers looked as though she had dipped them in some of Nik's most rusted of red paints. Strands of hair were stuck to her, slicked against her head and tangled in the blood on her chin.

Her clothes were drenched, almost entirely crimson from the stomach upwards, with a multitude of splatters down her legs and on her once-pristine heeled shoes, and as much as she wished to change, to be within clean clothes again... She felt powerful, strong, and she was enjoying that feeling.

She was soon brought back to reality, however, when the sound of chatter reached her ears, warning her of approaching people. She quickly gathered the woman into her arms with utmost ease and fled the scene 

⋆⋆⋆

The body had been quickly disposed of... Or at least Ophelia would like to say so; a quick toss into the Mississippi was sure to wash away the metallic twang of the girl, as well as the stench of death that was sure to come. 

It was an odd feeling, killing somebody, a feeling that Ophelia still was yet to be used to, after all, aside from her family... The woman she had well and truly drained was the only person to have fallen by her hand. Yes, she had hurt and tortured others, but never had she killed them.

It wasn't because she didn't want to, nor because she 'didn't have the stomach', simply because it would have proved a bigger nuisance than convenience. Her heart didn't ache, nor did guilt claw at her gut... She just didn't care.

That was just how Ophelia was; she would fight for those she cared for, for those she loved... but if they didn't matter to her, then... Well, they didn't matter at all. She wasn't as stone-cold as everybody thought; she wasn't unable to love and feel, she did, deeply in fact. But there was still a cluster of ice that clung to her undead heart, a cluster so cold that it would freeze anybody she didn't care for.   

Ophelia, despite her hatred for witches, knew the little cretins well; especially those that dwelled within the colorful city of New Orleans, and she knew that the witches she was after, the witches she lusted to wrap her hands around and split in two... They'd be exactly where they always were, exactly where Ophelia always seemed to be pulled; Lafayette Cemetery. 

Even before the red-coated heel of her shoe had stepped past the gates of the cemetery, Ophelia could hear them; she could hear Hayley screaming out for her baby, she could hear the rage in Nik's voice, the joy within the witches tone but she hadn't yet heard Elijah's.

She hadn't yet heard the voice that had made her heart thud and stomach churn.

"You fools! To come against us in our place of power in our strongest hour? You don't face three, you face us all!" Monique's voice rang within her ears, rattling around her skull as if the child was stood right beside her.

Her feet carried her, air and swirling winds parting for her to pass; her hair whipped around her face, more and more getting caught in the ever-thickening blood that coated her cheeks before she saw them.

Elijah, Hayley, and Nik were all on the ground, forearms bracing their fall against the concrete beneath them as the witched pushed them away. There was a wall of them; a hundred witches standing guard over the harvest girls and Genevieve as they tried to complete their sacrifice, as they tried to kill the baby.

The wall of distorted witches had their hands held out, magic pulsating... And Ophelia could feel it. She could feel the magic that drifted through the grounds, the energy that rushed her skin; calling out to her just as it always used to.

But she was a vampire; she was no longer a witch — She had never been a witch, so perhaps... 

No, it was foolish to think that nature would allow her to be both siphon and vampire... But that energy she felt licking at her flesh was undeniable, and the thirst for blood was still strong.

With a deep inhale, her lungs filled with crisp air, and without much thought, Ophelia launched herself forward; hands placed before her as they slammed against the barrier.

There was no denying it, no possible excuses to disguise the feeling of magic that coursed through her; and then came the crimson glow. Fingers already sticky with red began to glow as they had always done upon making contact with magic. 

The light reflected in her whiskey eyes, and as they blinked, moving towards the witches; the red reflected in them. She looked ominous and dangerous. Blood coating her chin, veins that she had yet to gain control of pulsating beneath her eyes, hands a vibrant scarlet.

She could hear the gasp from the newly awakened hybrid behind her; the relief in her friends' tone. She could hear the breath that had escaped Nik upon the sight before him. And she heard the low and broken mutter of her name fall from Elijah's tongue.

Magic flew through her veins, and with every passing second the wall of witches before her faltered, one flickering like a distorted image before disappearing entirely; looks of shock and fear upon their faces.

Whilst magic would often fuel her, it seemed to drain her; her body felt so incredibly sluggish as she drew the barrier inside of her, but she persisted. Even as her hands shook and teeth grit painfully against one another, she persisted, until it shattered completely.

Her body fell forward and her palms collided with the ground beneath her; skin breaking, healing soon after; leaving not a single wound behind.

"It's not possible!" Monique cried. Both she and the blonde clutching her hand faltered, stepping back as they stared at Ophelia with wide eyes.

Those behind the new vampire held similar looks.

"Kill me properly next time." Ophelia panted through her scowl; her bones aching as she rose a hand into the air, begging for her body to obey her.

And it did. Magic gathered at the tips of her stained fingertips, and as she twisted her hand, the blonde's head followed.

Monique jumped, the hand that was raised in the air fell to her side, and the one that had been interlaced with her fellow harvest girl was snatched back to her chest. Shocked eyes following the body that fell forward; slumping to the ground.

Ophelia could see the fear and shock quickly build into anger and insecurity; Monique needed this, she needed to complete the ancestors wish; unfortunately for her; another member joined her opposing team.

Something flew past Ophelia; rustling her already tangled mess of hair before it embedded itself within Monique's chest. The newly transitioned vampires' lips parted as she watched Monique gasp; a thousand slices slowly appearing from thin air, marring her skin as blood flowed like a river from the cuts, travelling down her body and pooling beneath her once pure white shoes.

The harvest girl clutched at the item in her chest, unfocused eyes staring past Ophelia. The woman followed the witches line of sight, only to find Marcel who without a shred of thought; sped forward and gathered the squirming bundle of blankets within his arms, staring down with a small smile at the cooing child, before speeding away. 

Genevieve stood still, gulping as she assessed the scene before her; two dead bodies of her protégé witches; one coated with blood, another with a neck twisted at such an angle she was able to stare into the cold, lifeless eyes. Then her gaze fell to Ophelia and fear wracked her body, a shiver running up and down her spine.

The red-head tried to move, she tried to escape, but Hayley had rushed forward with a face full of thunder, and with a single punch send towards the frozen witch, she was out like a light.

Niklaus followed after Marcel; pursuing his newborn and the former boy he had once seen as a son whilst Hayley turned around and allowed her hazel eyes to finally soften.

"Ophelia," she whispered as she rushed forward, heaving the woman to her feet and wrapping her in a hug; it was uncomfortable, metallic, and sticky, and yet they both basked in it. 

Each of them had seen the other's lifeless body within a pool of rust, and it was an image that had been burned into their memory. But they were both alive... Technically, anyway.

Ophelia, though she wanted to keep her hands wrapped around the new mother, her best friend, she knew that Hayley had somebody who needed her more. Her voice was barely above a whisper, "Go."

"Lia —"

"Go to your daughter, she needs you, and you need her too. Go, Hayley, we'll take care of that one." Ophelia muttered as she pulled away, her gaze dropping to Genevieve's body before flicking back to Hayley.

The new hybrid had tears building in her eyes, her lips quivering as she nodded. She took a final, long look at her friend, a large smile pulling at her lips before she sped away in the direction of her baby.

And then there were two; stood in silence as Ophelia stared after her friend.

"I thought you were dead," Elijah whispered, the baritone voice low and careful; it was like silk, or a siren's song pulling her in, convincing her to twist her head towards him.

His face betrayed his somewhat steady voice; eyes glistening with unshed tears as he stared at the woman who enthralled him, the woman who had taken root so deep within the heart he had tried to keep locked up.

His steps were slow, cautious even, as if waiting for her to disappear within a cloud of smoke; as if it were all a dream within such a harsh reality. When he had found her, lying there in the Church with a puddle of crimson surrounding her, his world had stopped.

His chest had failed him as he stumbled to the ground, hands reaching for the cold, lifeless body of the woman her had grown to love, despite his mind telling him he'd ruin her. He had heaved for breathes, his stomach churning at the thought of never seeing her smile, hearing her laugh or even hearing the witty little comments she'd often direct to himself and Niklaus.

His warm hands had stroked at her cheek, falling back to his side with her blood marring his skin; he blamed himself. He blamed his brother, he blamed everyone. Ophelia had brought something to him, to his entire family; love.

There had been times that each Mikaelson had wondered if there ever was true love within their family, or did they simply shield one another for the sake of blood alone. But Ophelia, an outsider had chosen to rest with what myths deemed as monsters.

And she had loved them for it. She had protected lives that didn't need protecting, and she had given her own up for them.

A careful hand reached out, loosely landing upon Ophelia's cheek, and their eyes met. Whisky and oak stared at one another and with a tentative movement, Ophelia wrapped her own hand around the one upon her cheek as she allowed herself to lean into the touch that warmed her skin. 

The dam broke for each of them; that barrier, that cage that kept all of the unspoken words and feelings from ever spewing, it shattered, and the pair surged towards one another; lips finally sealing after months of lingering touches and longing looks. 

It was harsh, desperate and tasted of that sweet and bitter blood that had stained her lips. Everything they had kept at bay flooded out, pouring into the other whilst Elijah's hands held her cheeks and Ophelia's winded around his neck.

When they had finally pulled apart with heavy breaths; their foreheads touched, eyes closed as they panted lightly.

"I held your body" He choked out through his swollen lips, "When I found you in the Church —"

"— Elijah I'm here. I'm okay."

"How —"

"— Do you recall the day Rebekah left?" Ophelia questioned, her whiskey gaze moving from their intertwined bloody fingers back to his face, "She gave me something."

His look was questioning, confused as he watched the woman separate their hands, nimble red fingers dipping into the inside pocket of her blood-soaked jacket. She procured a note, a small piece of folded up paper, as well as what seemed to be a small vial... A single red droplet rippling at the bottom of the small tube of glass.

He reached out, delicately plucking the items from the woman. He twisted and turned the vial, eyes narrowing at the single drop of blood that nestled into the curve of the tube before he finally moved to the note. He unfolded the damp paper tinged with red and was met with the delicate, cursive scrawl that belonged to his sister,

'Ophelia,

I have quite a few things to say, and you better read them all.

Firstly, I want to say thank you, you've been a true ally to myself and my brothers. You have thrown your life into peril all for our family, and Hayley of course. Over the time we have known each other, you've never been anything less than loyal... And kind. You have made me feel like the teenager I truly am, you bring me such joy when we peruse the streets of New Orleans, you make me feel... Less alone, I suppose; I've never had a true friend and I must admit, I'm glad you are the first.

Secondly, well I suppose I wish to thank you further, for the happiness you bring my brothers; Nik cares for you dearly, though he may disguise it and brush the fact away, he does. As for Elijah... You bring out something in him that I thought long lost; he seems so carefree within your company, you bring him peace and joy, and that is all I have ever wanted for him; he deserves it more than anyone I have ever met.

Which is where we get to my third point. You, Ophelia, are so incredibly reckless and stubborn. You throw yourself before us like a shield, you fight for us like a sword, and one day, I do believe that our family will be your downfall; caring for a Mikaelson... That makes you just as cursed as the rest of us.

But I know this would never deter you, you stubborn thing, and I don't think any of us could bear the news of your death. I would never submit such a dear friend to a life such as ours, but I know you, and I know that this may very well be the only way to keep your bloody reckless arse alive.

The vial contains my blood. You have a choice, unlike the rest of us. you can choose to continue risking your life until death befalls you, or you can drink my blood before a cursed battle and ensure that you come out on the other side. I would never force you, but Ophelia, please don't die; we need you.

Keep yourself as safe as you can, keep Nik in check, give into your bloody feelings for Elijah, and I swear Ophelia, if you don't contact me upon my departure; I will rain hell upon you.

Love, Rebekah.'

"She knows me too well." Ophelia breathed as she watched Elijah run his eyes over the letter once more. The new vampire cocked her head just slightly, matted curls of brunette and crimson tumbling from her shoulder, "I knew I wouldn't survive whatever fight was to come, and... Well, becoming a vampire was never off the cards for me."

Elijah stuffed the letter and empty vial into the empty pocket of his suit jacket, staring at the woman before him in mild awe; she knew that her life would be taken, she knew she wouldn't live, and yet she still risked everything for his family, and for her best friend.

It was a stark contrast to the woman she had been upon their first meeting; cold, calm, and no space within her heart for anyone other than Davina.

"You gave your life for Hayley and the child... You knew your only option was to become a — A —"

"— A vampire?" Ophelia finished for him, her tone nonchalant whilst his contained something akin to disgust; not towards her, never towards her, but towards the creature that she had been forced to become. "Elijah, even if I'd lived... Almost everybody I care for are vampires, immortal, and I would have become this no matter how things played out; one lifetime wouldn't have been enough for me."

"What about —"

Ophelia huffed a small laugh, silencing him. She knew he'd list off everything she'd miss out on upon becoming a beast that prowls the night in search of quenching their thirst. But the was nothing she'd miss. Ophelia Parker was good with children, brilliant in fact, but she had never been the girl to fantasize about a family. She had never longed for the love of a man, it just happened, and she didn't need to be a human to pursue that, for he was stood before her, a vampire himself.

"There's nothing you can say, or could have said to deter me from this, or from wanting this. I'm a vampire now, Elijah. And I'm okay with that."

Despite the small flinch upon those words and the images of her fallen body flickering inside of his mind, he chuckled and brought one of her hands closer to his face. His eyes traced every inch of the skin before him, each speckle and line of blood, ending on her bare fingers. Light and dainty silver rings adorned them, but not a single ring contained the gem that allowed him to walk in the sunlight; Lapiz lazuli. 

"I believe you're something far more than that."

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05-07-2021

This is update 9/10, please be sure you are all caught up! Don't forget to vote, comment and follow!

Well done to those that guessed correctly! It was Rebekah's blood that turned Ophelia; I wanted to allude to the fact, and thus did it slyly in the previous chapter so that you all had to guess.

Also! Please remember that nobody has really heard of what heretics are; thus I'll still be referring to Ophelia as both Siphon/Vampire, due to the fact that neither the originals, nor Ophelia knew such a thing could even exist.

Hope you all enjoyed this chapter! One more to go!