AFTERMATH [ 2 ] | LEGACIES

F O U R

The car ride was full of tension, to say the least. I sat in front of Alaric's car, my arms crossed over my chest as I stared angrily at the passing scenery. Everyone was silent, and Rafael was in the back with his hands folded in his lap, like he was too nerovus to say anything.

I was starting to get real fed up with Hope, to say the least. She and I got into fights like this often. The last time, I had left for a while, going back to New Orleans for a breather. Most of our fights were still centered around Roman, even back then.

He had left to France to visit Antoinette, and Hope angered me by making an angry comment about him. So, I did what us Mikaelsons did best: I walked away. Parts of me was regretting deciding to be a student at the school. I had lived way too many years to deal with the pettiness that was my cousin's mind, acting like she was grown and mature when she really wasn't.

Maybe if she had just been more mature in the first place, we wouldn't both be orphans. But I couldn't just blame her for our parents' deaths, even in the little voice in the back of my head said that my dad would be alive in Hope didn't extract the Hollow from the Mikaelson siblings.

—·—

"Lilah?" Keelin asked, concerned when I got there.

I stormed into the Mikaelson complex, huffing and puffing like no tomorrow. She was sitting at the dining room table, which I stared at, old memories barricading my mind as I remembered the last time I was there.

"Hey," I grumbled, trying to walk past her to my room upstairs, trying not to remember that the last time I really ate at that table, it was for a last meal for Uncle Niklaus, which ended up being my father's last meal as well.

"Woah, woah, no, stop right there," Keelin said, blocking my way to the staircase, grabbing my shoulders. "Not that I don't love seeing my niece, but what's going on? Why are you home with a packed bag and no Hope?"

"She and I got into a fight, and I just really needed to get out of there," I replied shortly.

I heard footsteps, and we both looked at the top of the staircase to see Aunt Freya walking down them. She looked at me with the same concerned look as her wife.

-

I spent that trip doing things that I never reported back to Hope about. She might kill me if she found out about it now, two years later. But I promised myself I would tell her nothing unless I'm sure my plans wouldn't fall through the cracks. Aunt Freya and I were so close, but we weren't there just yet.

Part of me just wanted to go home for good. Spend weekends with Josh, living it up in night clubs on the weekend. Managing Rousseau's, maybe even just helping run the town, keep peace within the factions considering every supernatural being knew who I was.

But I tried to remind myself that I wanted to enjoy teenage years. But it was hard, with the pain I had gone through for generations, the pain Hope was going through now. I couldn't help her heal when I never even got the chance to heal myself. It was always heartbreak after heartbreak.

We ended up in the woods trying to search for Landon. Apart from the bus full of scorched people that Matt found, we barely had a real lead. That was until we found a girl with scorched clothing, but something didn't seem right. Her clothing was outdated, but Alaric seemed more concerned with protecting her than interrogating.

So, while he helped her, Rafael and I went looking for his best friend. I wasn't mad at Landon, not the way Hope was. I was sure that he had a reason, whatever it might be, however stupid it might be.

—·—

Alaric told us not to engage, but we found Landon in an abandoned cellar where he kept insisting he had no idea what was happening, why he took the knife, and where it was. I eyed his suspiciously, not believing that he didn't have it, but he said it almost like he believed it himself. There was something weird about that knife and about this entire situation. Who or what exactly was Landon Kirby that he couldn't be compelled, and he stole some ancient, mysterious knife?