Forever Original | Alaric Saltzman

Chapter 1

October 21, 2010

Prior to being woken up unceremoniously by her twin, Hilda Mikaelson was reverting to her usual coping methods.

"Wake up, sister," crooned her brother's voice as she felt the dagger be removed from her chest. "We have a murder to carry out."

The silence and darkness that ensued following being daggered was something she had always hated. It was an eternity of nothingness that fueled her anger each time she awoke. Stupid Nik. She'd have her revenge one day. She could only rely on her memories for any sort of solace, slipping into a state of dreaming where she could entertain herself and not feel so alone.

"Hilda!" Kol shook her and smacked her face. "You're taking too long, sister."

She opened her eyes, the grayish veins dissipating from her features. "What year is it?" she asked boredly as she sat up.

"How the bloody hell would I know that? Elijah just woke us. He even woke Finn up."

Her dark eyes darted over his familiar roguish expression, searching for any sign that he was lying. If Finn was undaggered, it had to be important. She held out her arms, and Kol picked her up, setting her down. She brushed down the forest green dress that she'd been wearing for Christmas the night she and Kol had been daggered, in 1914, and looked over at his clothes, his gray shirt neatly tucked under his black suit vest.

"Not a single wrinkle," she observed. "What's happened? Did they decide we can control ourselves now, or what? By now, the paragon diamond will be long gone..."

Kol sighed dejectedly. "Let's not think about the diamond, sister. Elijah hasn't told us yet why we're all awake. Hurry up, we've only been waiting for you."

She huffed and took his arm. The house they were in was completely unfamiliar, but judging by the paintings on the walls, it had been decorated under Klaus's command. Kol escorted her to the drawing room, where Finn stood, his hair still hanging just over his shoulders, with his bloody and tattered shirt from the year 1114. Rebekah was donning a red strapless dress with her longer, curled blonde hair, and the familiar necklace that belonged to their mother. Elijah, as usual, was wearing a suit. There were two unfamiliar faces joining them- a devilishly handsome man with light blue eyes and disarrayed jet-black hair, and a tall blonde woman with a gold top, a black skirt, and fishnet leggings. The woman held a silver platter with four daggers.

"No time for explanations just yet," said Elijah, adjusting his suit jacket. "We are safer, my brothers and sisters. Mikael is dead at Niklaus's hand, but there is also something you should know. Our brother killed our mother, not Mikael."

At this point, Hilda was used to being bombarded with major news each time she was awoken. There was always something that'd happened that she and Kol were made aware of whenever they had a small chance at freedom.

This, however, had yielded the most enraging blow.

Hilda couldn't exactly say that she was closest with their mother, but perhaps besides Rebekah, she and Kol had respected Esther the most.

Born four minutes before her twin, Hilda was named by Mikael. His first daughter since Freya, who had died of plague, he was overjoyed to see that, just like Niklaus before her, Hilda had the fighting glance that made her stand out among his children. He named her 'battle woman,' and when she and Kol were old enough, began to train the twins to become just as strong as him.

They were magnificent. While Esther had suppressed Klaus's potential in order to conceal that his father was really a werewolf, she had let the twins free, and they had excelled. Hilda was the apple of her father's eye- the replacement for Freya that he'd been longing for ever since Esther had (unbeknownst to him) lied about what had really happened to his eldest daughter. She was agile and fierce despite being much smaller than her brothers. Even up to date, she was the shortest of her siblings, standing one inch below Rebekah, but she was certainly one of the strongest.