Chapter Text
“Of all the places you’ve dragged me, this has to be the worst, Hope!”
Rolling her eyes, Hope continued walking, heels of her boots echoing sharply with each step. Why she kept the blonde around escaped her, but the thought vanished just as quickly as it appeared. As it always did, when she remembered that Lizzie was now her heretic—and that was that. “Don’t just ignore me! We’re surrounded by darkness, and it’s looking really like we’re in Malivore. Which is impossible because, in case you haven’t forgotten, he’s dead!”
Hope paused to look back, an eyebrow raised. Lizzie had the decency to look sheepish. It was cute, in the way that a turtle flipped onto its back and dying of starvation was cute. “Right, sorry. Of course, you’d remember. Still, how are we here?” Hope turned back around and kept walking. “Hope!”
She groaned. Sadly, that turtle could speak. Then again, most turtles didn’t sing with magic or look utterly devourable in a crop top. Her turtle was special like that. “It’s obviously not Malivore, Lizzie.” Hope didn’t say anything else, although her lips did peek up for a moment at Lizzie’s grumbles.
A few seconds passed before the heretic asked, “How do you know that? Because everything I’m seeing screams Malivore.”
“For one, I’m not glowing.” There was a baffled ‘what’ that Hope ignored. “Two, the ground is different. Malivore was… squishy. This is hard.”
“Eww. That entire sentence was just one solid no. So where is this then?”
Hope was trying to figure out, and she did have some ideas, but it was hard with the constant chattering. Unfortunately, with the sirebond broken, she couldn’t just command her to shut up. Even more annoying was that Lizzie had found vervain a long time ago. Unlike a turtle, Hope couldn’t just flip her hanger-on onto her back and watch her squirm, unable to move. Well, she could. But she was evil, bloodthirsty, and possessive. Not a monster.
In a blur, Lizzie appeared in front of her, arms crossed. Hope sighed, which, for someone without humanity, she did a lot when Lizzie was sticking around and not off traipsing with her ‘friends’. “My best guess?” At Lizzie’s nod, she smirked. “No clue.”
Hope walked past her, not at all bothered by what should have been a hilariously baffled look. “Really? The great Hope Mikaelson knows nothing?” At the taunting words, Hope froze, eyes flashing.
“Careful, or should we take a visit to Belgium?”
Instead of taking the threat for what it was, Lizzie rolled her eyes. “So you know nothing, great.”
“You’re lucky a siphoner is so useful.” Turning back around and calming the rage, Hope continued walking. A few minutes of silence passed before she spoke again. “For the record, I do know something.”
There were a few seconds of silence, and then Lizzie groaned. “Fine, I’ll ask. Please, oh great Tribrid, what do you know?”
“Much better, supplication suits you, Lizzie.” At the sharp look she was given, Hope smirked. “Alright, so while you were off doing whatever you do when you can’t handle my murderous ways, Landon visited me. Given that on Earth he barely has more humanity than me, I didn’t see a need to deal with him, and so we talked.” Hope rolled her eyes, putting on an exhausted tone of voice. “Needless to say, he was following the plan of his far more emotional and heroic self.”
That boy really was lucky that he was so handsome and incredibly immortal as the ferryman. “As you can imagine, when he pulled out a video from my dad in Peace of all things, I was highly amused. Because that had to be the biggest lie of all time. I mean, really, how big would his coin bowl even be? There might not even be enough people in Limbo to make up for his sins. One thing led to another, and I spread his ashes in the lake so my humanity would shut up.”
Lizzie took a deep breath, clearly annoyed. “So, you know nothing then?”
“Did I forget to mention that a few hours later, Landon showed back up with a man with three wrist-watches, and they both started glowing?” Hope’s smirk grew into an amused smile as Lizzie grumbled to herself in annoyance.
“So the god you didn’t catch then?”
“It seems likely, he is the God of Time after all, and if you were paying attention, you would notice the number of times our hearts have beaten is completely wrong for how long we’ve been here.”
There was an exasperated, “I think I would know if my heart was—oh. Well, who keeps track of their own heartbeat?!” Followed up by, “So what does that mean?”
“Time, or at least our perceptions of it, is being altered. Also, your emotions are out of control, and your heart is constantly changing its tempo. It makes keeping track quite difficult, so control yourself.” Although her heretic’s heartbeat was quite pretty when rapid like that, now wasn’t the time or place.
Lizzie’s footsteps behind her stopped for a second before they picked back up. “Great. So, how long have we been stuck here really?”
“Five years.” Lizzie’s heart stuttered. Hope smirked. “Joking.” Lizzie let out a relieved sigh, and as Hope heard the blonde’s jaw muscles unwind, air entering her lungs in preparation to talk, she added, “It’s actually been fifteen. Every minute is a year.”
Lizzie stopped moving, and this time she didn’t start again. Hope looked back, confused, only to grow more so as horror spread across her companion's face. “Fifteen years? Hope my dad is human. Josie is mortal, too!”
Oh, that made sense. “Relax, Lizzie, do you really think hero hair Landon would do that? Most likely, this is going to be a short temporal jump to guilt-trip me once more.” At the blonde actually relaxing, she actually felt a little bad about not telling her earlie—why did Hope feel bad? Blue eyes narrowed as she reached inside of herself to confirm the switch was still flicked, only to grow confused when she came into contact with her magic. ‘That’s not possible.’
She tried to pull on her vampire side, only to be met with nothing. Then, her werewolf, and again, nothing. A way of reliefhorrorfearsorrow crashed into her, and now it was Hope’s turn to freeze as her eyes widened. “Hope, are you okay?” The concerned words didn’t reach her, and it was like she was drowning as her head throbbed.
Emotions, and with them came dread, horror, and agony. Not for what she had done to Alaric. Not for her capricious murder or feeding habits. Not even for torturing Aurora. She didn’t even feel all that bad for basically genociding the natural race that used to reside in peace. Certainly not for killing Lizzie—she had felt her own magic and blood inside the siphoner—no.
‘IkilledRebekahIkilledherIkilledherIKILLEDHER’ A ragged sob left Hope’s lips as she crumbled to the ground. “Hope!” Soft hands touched each side of her face as worried eyes peered at her. A desperate voice and screaming. None of it mattered.
‘She’sdeaddeaddeaddead. Ikilledher.’ Hope reached for the switch to shut it all off again, but there was nothing there. Because she wasn’t a vampire, she was just a witch. “Hope! Damnit, don’t kill me for this!”
A slap rang out, and Hope blinked. “Are you back with me?” She blinked again, and Lizzie sighed, falling to her butt. “Good, that’s good. What the hell was that? I mean, obviously your humanity is back on, but like, why?”
Hope blinked a few more times before, with a ragged breath, said. “Try to cast a spell.” Lizzie’s eyes furrowed, but she listened anyway, reaching a hand out and muttered the words for a simple light spell, only to look in shock as nothing happened.
“I’m just a witch, and you’re just a siphoner now. I felt emotions for the first time about a minute in. I should have realized something was wrong, but everything only clicked into place when I went to check on the switch and saw my magic.” Still sitting on the ground, Hope looked up morosely.
“I know what’s happening.” Seventeen minutes. If her theory was correct, it was currently 2014. “We’re going back in time, not forward.”
Lizzie stared down at her hands, and if Hope weren’t so overloaded, she would have been shocked at the sheer horror and sorrow in the blonde's eyes. But with a deep breath, Lizzie snapped out of it. She always did. She was strong like that, so unlike Hope. “Alright, time travel. Because, of course, the muppet with a sickle and a clock fetishist can do that. Sure, why not? So where are we going?”
Hope let out a mirthful chuckle, tears she hadn’t even realized till now were falling landed salty on her lips. “Not just them, my humanity side was a part of this plan too. I just don’t know if it was Landon or Chronos that added you.” She brushed the tears from her face and continued to keep track of her heartbeat, something far, far more complicated now that her brain suddenly went from the equivalent of 1440p to 240p.
“It’s been eighteen minutes now, so if in a minute we both disappear, my birth. Next guess? 2009.”
Lizzie’s nose wrinkled. “Gross. I’d rather not live through our parents' drama.” Hope froze, and the former heretic’s eyes widened. “Oh.” They sat in silence at the realization.
A minute passed. They were still there. “So… Mystic Falls it is then?” Hope nodded, agreeing with the assessment.
“Lizzie, before, just in case. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything I’ve done and all the horrible things I've done to you and made you do. I’m sorry that you got dragged into this mess again.”
Flipping her hair and putting on an arrogant smirk, Lizzie rolled her eyes. “Oh shut up, Mikaelson. I forgave you a long time ago. Besides, we both know your ass would get all martyr-complex and woe is me if you were at this alone. It was probably Landon who shoved me in here with you.”
Hope’s breath hitched, and she blinked away the tears that wanted to start again. “Thanks, Lizzie.” A surge of emotions that she ruthlessly pushed down surged, because now was not the time to deal with the real reason her humanityless self had chosen Lizzie out of the Saltzman twins, or kept her around even after ‘betrayal’ after ‘betrayal’.
Not just kept her around, but had destroyed entire covens who tried to capture her, faced the King of Gods at her pleading, and had broken the boundaries of life and death to pull Alaric back to the land of the living because of her horrible gut-wrenching sobs.
Now wasn’t the time, and it certainly wasn’t the time to admit that she and Landon hadn’t just spread her father’s ashes and heard his last words. It probably would never be. Because how could Lizzie ever return such monstrous feelings?
Three minutes passed, and from nowhere a rumbling occurred.
Then, low murmurrings could be heard, insane cackles, and strangely enough, old cartoonish music. ‘What is that?’ There was a screeching noise like something coming to a stop, and a strange noise like someone licking something.
“What is that?” At Lizzie’s confused words that unknowingly echoed her own thoughts, Hope slowly blinked, doing some math as she clicked together that specific mix of languages and those cartoon-like sound effects.
“Fuck.” At Hope’s blurted-out words, Lizzie’s eyes widened. “I know where this is.” With worry in her voice, Hope looked at her in complete desperation. “Lizzie, if you wake up before me, or however this works, know that every single witch you see is evil or is locked up because they couldn’t handle dark magic. No one is safe to be around.”
“Hope, where are we going?!” There was genuine worry in the blonde’s voice, and Hope wanted to soothe her. She couldn’t. Not about this.
“New Orleans, Fauline’s Cottage. An insane asylum for the darkest and worst sinners of the Nine Covens.” The look of fear and horror that crossed her friend's face made Hope’s heart constrict painfully. Because that wasn’t horror and fear for her life, no, it was an old fear. Because for so long Lizzie had thought herself insane, and now she was going to be in an insane asylum.
For the first time in a long, long time, Hope felt like screaming at Landon. Then, in a flash of light, consciousness left Hope.
⋆.˚𓅆࿐⋆˚࿔
The world did not grant Hope Mikaelson a smooth wake-up. No, because that would have been too fortunate. She awoke to a scream. “No, please!” She recognized the voice, the cry. Her heart beat rapidly as adrenaline filled her veins. Her eyes snapped open, and by the time she took in her surroundings, she was already on her feet.
She zeroed in on the blonde being held down by four people, a fifth hovering near Lizzie’s mouth with something in their hand. Each of them had two scars, like scratch marks running from near their mouths to one of their eyes. Hope saw red. It didn’t matter that she wasn’t a wolf. It didn’t matter that she wasn’t a vampire, for she was still the apex predator. The monster that had the supernatural world quaking in fear for nearly a year.
It didn’t matter that Fauline’s Cottage was meant to suppress magic. She was a Mikaelson witch. Her hand snapped up, and without any chanting, the neck of the woman who was trying to force-feed Lizzie something was broken before her head horrifically exploded, blood flying everywhere. Within five seconds of being awake, Hope Mikaelson once again retriggered her werewolf curse.
It was irrelevant because four people were still holding down Lizzie, who was screaming in fear, her worst nightmares made manifest by being in Fauline’s Cottage and held down by psychotic ‘orderlies’. Hope’s hand twisted, fingers curling. “Suurenta.”
There was that same snapping sound followed by the room shaking as four bodies slammed into the walls. Lizzie’s screams slowed to a stop, but she was still shaking with tears falling down her face. Hope rushed forward. “Lizzie, it’s over. You’re safe.” She distantly noted that something had fractured in her legs for a brief moment before instantly fixing itself, but the pain of the curse triggering in full didn’t matter. It didn’t matter when her spine throbbed or her shoulders screamed in agony.
Blue glassy eyes looked at her, and pink lips trembled. That was what mattered. Without a thought or hesitation, Hope knelt, shins splintering as she did so, and eyes glowing gold. “Hey, Lizzie. You don’t have to say anything, but how about I carry you and get us out of here?” It took a few seconds, but Lizzie nodded. In the background, there was a cartoon gun shot, and a cackle of glee.
Hope picked her up, not caring how difficult it really was, considering she was small and barely had any super strength. She didn’t care when there was another snap of bone in her arm, and the pain got worse. “Alright, let’s get out of here. How does a bath, a view of the entire city, and more champagne than you can handle sound?”
Lizzie’s eyes came more into focus as Hope started to move, but her only response was a nod. Hope just smiled down at her, and although she wanted to move upstairs to grab her aunt Freya, still magically asleep… some things were more important.
The front door opened and then magically locked behind them. Another cartoon gunshot rang out as it did, followed again by that same insane giggle. Lizzie shivered, and Hope held her tighter. “It’s alright, we’re almost out.”
She walked across the cobblestone path and didn’t even spare a glance for the gate that had held back a hundred years of some of the most depraved and unstable witches in all of New Orleans. Her eyes flicked to the tiny doll head with a missing eye mounted on one of the spikes of the gate. ‘I see.’ It was a powerful spell. For ordinary witches at least.
Hope was no ordinary witch. She was far too powerful for it. Hope even knew the exact spell for the job. Shifting Lizzie so that she could hold her in one arm—which was quite difficult because she was five-foot-three on a good day—one hand pressed against the gate, and Hope closed her eyes. “Destruccive glas stav enfala. Destruccive glas stav enfala.”
Her magic coursed through her and into the gate in powerful waves, and with each word, the shrunken doll's head twisted just a little bit. Until, on the final syllable, it faced entirely away from the cottage and out toward the desolate street. The gate cracked open, and Hope carefully cradled Lizzie in her two arms once more as she walked out.
The gate shut behind them, and the head turned back around.
⋆.˚𓅆࿐⋆˚࿔
Dead. She was dead. Looking at the city far below her through the window, Hope tried to ignore her emotions. She did her best to push them back so that she wouldn’t break down again. Not when Lizzie was so emotionally vulnerable. Not when they were so weak. It had been nearly four years at this point since her magic was this weak, and nearly a year for Lizzie since having magic of her own.
She faintly heard water splashing from the bathroom, already adjusted to her slowly strengthening superhearing, even if her entire body was still aching. She was still changing, and would continue to do so until she experienced her first full moon. The pain and aches were negligible to her. She deserved it anyway.
“Hope? Are there any robes in there?” Hearing how weak and frail Lizzie’s voice still was, Hope turned away from the window in sorrow. It didn’t show in her voice when she responded.
“Yeah, I’ll get them. Be right there.” Even though she had never been in this specific room before, Hope knew it like the back of her hand. It had been something even Kol of all people had been insistent on her memorizing. Pulling out a fluffy white robe from the full walk-in closet, with careful steps, she walked up to the bathroom door.
“I’ve got it, Lizzie. Do you want me to—”
“You can come in.”
Not questioning it, considering they had spent a long time on the road together, Hope opened the door and walked in. She wasn’t all that surprised to find Lizzie resting on the lip of the bath, a towel wrapped around her hair and another around her body. While her humanityless self wasn’t a monster in certain ways, she also hadn’t cared much for privacy. “Here.” Handing it over, Lizzie grabbed it only to stare at the chest region. ‘What’s wrong with—oh. I forgot how gaudy Elijah was.’
Blue eyes glanced up toward her own, a confused look in them. “What exactly is this place? We have zero dollars to our name, and yet they just let you in.”
Debating what to say, Hope quickly realized this was Lizzie—and that they were back in the past, alone. There was no point in secrets, even if they were family ones.
“The Mikaelson room. In almost every major city across the world, there’s a hotel with one. It acts as not only a place to stay instead of buying houses, which leaves far more of a trail, but also a safe house.”
“That explains the robe emblazoned with your crest.” Hope nodded in agreement at the muttered words and turned around so that Lizzie could get up and put it on.
“No one outside of the family knows which hotel in each city, let alone the passphrases. I’m not even sure if anyone realizes it’s primarily hotels. Uncle Elijah created it mere months before they had to flee New Orleans, paranoid that Mikael would catch up to them. They had stayed here for so long after all, and he wanted a way to disappear. Even within New Orleans itself.”
There was shuffling from behind Hope as Lizzie got up, thudding of wet towels, and then the shifting of silk. “This is your aunt Rebekah’s, then?” Deaddeaddead.
“Probably. He must be keeping all the safe houses supplied with clothes for the rest of the family, even if right now he believes they’re at the bottom of the ocean.” That alone told Hope everything she needed to know. That he didn’t really believe what her father had horribly lied to him about. Even if his higher consciousness believed it, subconsciously he didn’t.
“You can turn around now.” At Lizzie’s exhausted voice, Hope did as she asked and turned. If Hope herself weren’t so exhausted and desperately holding back a breakdown, her breath would have escaped her at how the blonde looked. Particularly with that emblazoned M over one silk-clad breast. The way the silk stretched very slightly would have set thoughts and feelings acting up in any other moment.
But Hope was exhausted and overwhelmed, such a thing barely even registered in her brain. So with a smile, she half-asked, half-stated. “I believe I promised you champagne?”
Lizzie smiled back at her, the first time since they fell back in time. “That sounds good. I think I’m going to be a weepy drunk, though.”
“Reasonable, I think I can handle it. It’s been a day. If not, I’ll start crying with you, and we can just be cry buddies.”Deaddeaddead. Ikilledher.
By the time two glasses were down, and the third one halfway sipped, Hope had to pick up Lizzie again and carry her to the far too large bed with sinfully comfortable sheets. Trying to place Lizzie down, the barely conscious blonde groaned and wrapped her arms tighter around Hope.
“Lizzie, you gotta let me go so you can get into bed.” Unlike what anyone would expect with how blank her voice and face were, she wasn’t exasperated or annoyed. If anything, it was pretty cute and amusing the way the blonde was trying to hug her like a koala.
“Don’t wanna be alone.” The words were muffled sadly with a tinge of a whine against her shoulder, and Hope lightly sighed. Not out of annoyance, but more so an expression of sadness about the situation that caused this.
“I promise not to leave.”
Lizzie peered up, eyes bleary, her voice soft and frail. “Ever?” Hope smiled. She didn’t blame her for asking such a thing of her. She wouldn’t have blamed Lizzie even if she were sober and knew exactly what such a question meant to Hope.
“Ever.” Seemingly satisfied, Lizzie went from acting like a Koala bear to completely letting go. Hope cursed as she shifted, stumbling into and then onto the bed in a desperate attempt at not dropping the drunk siphoner.
Lizzie giggled before wrapping her arms around Hope again. “You did that on purpose.” There was amusement in Hope’s voice as she held Lizzie in one arm, the other fiddling to get the blankets out from underneath them.
“Did not.”
Hope snorted, not at all persuaded. The smile peeking through on Lizzie’s lips made her words even less reliable. “Sure. I believe you.”
Lizzie drunkenly giggled, head once more finding Hope’s neck, and fell silent when Hope finally managed to maneuver them under the covers. A few minutes had passed, Hope having settled in and accepted the fact that she would be treated like a pillow for the night, when Lizzie sleepily whispered. “Back at the cottage, I couldn’t siphon them.”
One of Hope’s hands subconsciously rubbed the blonde's back, the other one pulling her in closer. “The cottage was made to hold the worst witch criminals. They must have made it with siphoners in mind.” It wouldn’t surprise Hope at all, no matter how weak a lot of the witches in New Orleans seemed to be without access to ancestral magic, some of the covens could truly be cunning and ruthless.
Lizzie shuddered. “I don’t want to feel like that ever again.” Her eyes opened, staring at Hope with more clarity than she had in hours. “I want your blood again.” The words caused Hope’s heart to stutter, her hand to freeze its motions, and her breath to catch.
A second later, she inhaled, and her brain started working again. “We can talk about that in the morning, okay?” Hope wasn’t going to feed Lizzie her blood while drunk—especially after what she’d experienced today.
Lizzie’s eyes fluttered closed. “It won’t change my mind.” A few seconds later, the blonde’s breath evened out. Hope was left awake, heart pounding, with thoughts and emotions running rampant.
She now understood the look Lizzie had when she realized she wasn’t a heretic back in the realm of blackness. Weakness. Lizzie didn’t want to be weak. She had been weak her entire life. The twin with the weak mind. The twin who flipped out at everything. Who had worse grades. The twin who was worse at spells. It made sense.
It was also something Hope didn’t really understand, because she had never been weak, only not strong enough. But what she did understand was fear in general. That was something she had lived with for years.
She also understood the fear of one's own mind. Because she had lived with it when possessed by the hollow, and for years after that. She knew she was going to live with it for the rest of her life because the sins she had accrued without her humanity had been as plentiful as they were horrific. Deaddeaddeadshe’sdead.
Hope closed her eyes, even though it was certain that sleep would not find her tonight.
Watching Lizzie throughout the night was something Hope was intimately familiar with. It was something that soothed her, even without her humanity. Although without her humanity, she had thought of Lizzie as little more than a particularly important pet. Still, Hope had never gotten much sleep since the Hollow had possessed her as a child, and that hadn’t changed—even when she’d been an emotionless psycho.
It was because of that, when she wasn’t bar crawling for booze and blood, she had pretty much every night possessively watched over the heretic that existed purely because of her blood. If anything, while her switch was flipped, the notion of such a thing had interested her even more. It was why Hope had so ruthlessly killed her. There had been no greater plan back then, just interest and a twisted, burgeoning desire.
Of course, usually that watching didn’t include breath softly tickling Hope’s neck, her arm asleep and crushed underneath Lizzie’s body, and dry drool making her feel sticky with every inhale. She loved it.
It also didn’t usually include being nearly in tears. Or wanting to scream in utter agony as her mind flashed back to her fangs ripping through Aunt Rebekah’s neck and her hand tearing out a beating heart, before feasting on it while watching the light leave her eyes.
It was a bit of a mixed night, which was not at all helped by the small and oh-so distracting breasts only covered by that silk bathrobe pushed into her arm.
Hope’s heart really couldn’t handle the deadly mix of emotions, but she didn’t dare to leave. As if the universe was agreeing with her, a whimper left Lizzie’s lips. With her arm that wasn’t dead, Hope carefully squeezed the sleeping witch, a soothing hum leaving her lips.
She was tempted—so very tempted—to enact her wrath on those who caused such noises to be made. She wouldn’t even have to leave the bed. She could just utter a few spells, and Fauline’s Cottage would be erased. Hope could call a storm, summon the tides, create an earthquake, or even conjure up the cleansing fires of Peace. Sure, her aunt would be caught in the crossfire, but she was immortal right now.
Naturally, Hope didn’t. Not only would Lizzie hate innocents being caught in such an action, but she also had to try to be better. To at least begin to make up for all the horrible sins she had committed this last year.
Even if it meant not being able to destroy the thing that made the one person she loved—who was still alive—cry. Hope knew she shouldn’t have such thoughts. But it had been nearly a year. A year as the biggest and most powerful monster in creation. And in truth? Even before that, she had been wrong, using what she knew should be right and wrong to guide her actions.
Because Hope Mikaelson had been fundamentally broken for a long time and had only ever allowed three people to know it. One of them would likely never be born now, the other might be rowing a mystical death boat, and the last was currently in her arms.
When the whimpers quieted, Hope held her tight for a few more moments before slowly letting go, not minding that in response her sleeping friend seemed to somehow stick closer to her, practically melding their bodies together. Hope didn’t mind, whatever Lizzie needed. Closing her eyes, she gently sighed. “You’re going to be the death of me if you keep doing that, though.”
“You were already dead before. You can deal with it.” Hope froze as those words echoed out into the room, Lizzie’s voice vibrating against the hollow of her throat. Her eyes opened, and Lizzie’s own were already staring into them; the remnants of sleep faded.
The blonde always woke up with startling speed, but that timing… “Besides, consider it payback for the last year while sharing hotel rooms.” Hope’s pulse raced, and she could feel lips curve into a smile against her neck. “Not so fun when you have your humanity, is it?”
Hope wrenched her eyes shut and tried to get her breathing under control. “Is this really the time to do this, Lizzie?”
“I’m never good with timing. Besides, I know you. You’ll want to have this conversation before being a heretic enhances my emotions again. Before it fixes me. Otherwise, you’ll run off and hide away again. Which is totally exhausting and not at all a cool best friend move by the way.” With the confirmation that Lizzie still wanted to be turned again, Hope reluctantly opened her eyes.
“What do you want me to say? That I knew how you felt with my humanity off, and I teased you on purpose? Or how the only reason Josie and the squad survived was that I knew my pet Heretic would leave if I did?”
On a roll, Hope continued, “Do you want me to say that I knew my blood was pumping through your veins, and the thought of such a thing being true for eternity excited me even as a monster. That I snapped your neck out of twisted and deranged desire? Or how about the moment where my humanity was closest to the surface, which was when I was slaughtering the coven that dared to capture you. Or how about when I ripped Ken’s head off as you lay lying on the ground, as by heartbeat by heartbeat grew closer to death?”
Lizzie remained in silence, blue eyes usually so expressive, blank as Hope continued, yet not once did either of them move away. “Or how I killed my own aunt because she dared to threaten you?” Lizzie’s eyes widened at that, Hope having never told her that.
Licking her lips, Lizzie said quietly, with a bit of trepidation. “I just want one thing, Hope. An answer. I’ve said it twice.”
Hope swallowed, fear overtaking her for a moment. “You’re cruel for asking this so soon after the switch was flicked.”
“I know.”
Hope’s head bent. Her heart beat faster than it had in her entire life, as human teeth met the pale flesh of her wrist. She felt as Lizzie’s breath stalled, as the realization that Hope’s answer was what had always teetered on the edge of possibility for them ever since she had left Malivore, ever since Lizzie had regained memories of her.
“I told you last night I’d be there forever, I’d never leave you.” Her throat bobbled as she swallowed heavily. “I love you too, Lizzie.” Even Landon knew that. It was the other thing they had talked about in that brief moment of time Chronos had sliced out in order to get her humanity-half to agree to the plan. “Landon may have been my first, but you’re my last. So take it.”
Hope moved her bleeding wrist toward Lizzie. She drank, and Hope’s heart thudded in joy and love. “You’re my always and forever.”
Lizzie wrenched away from her wrist, and bloodied lips met bloodied lips. A few seconds later, that broke apart, and with a smirk on her face, the soon-to-be Heretic said, “Well. I just wanted to know if you liked me back, but I suppose I could accept the proposal of eternity together. We’ll have to talk about a dowry, of course.”
Hope laughed. “I’ve got half a bottle of Champagne, whatever lint is in my pockets, and a phone from twenty years in the future.”
Lizzie’s eyes widened in horror. “Hope. Are we… poor now?”
“Let’s just call it economically challenged.”
Lizzie bonelessly slumped into her, and Hope laughed again. “Don’t worry, it’ll only be until I convince Dad or Elijah that I’m…” Hope trailed off, realizing how impossible anything would be. She shrugged. “Don’t worry about it, we’re two badass witches, we’ll figure it out.”
“I’m gonna kill that muppet. Does he think I look this amazing by being poor?!” ‘Never change, Lizzie, never change.’
Hope planted a kiss on top of her head. “There’s some makeup in the room, and Rebekah’s shirts and dresses should fit you. The pants will be snug on me, and the skirts should fit both of us.” Although the skirt and dresses would be a bit short on Lizzie, Hope certainly wouldn’t mind that, and she knew very well Lizzie didn’t mind showing skin. “We’ll make do.”
As Lizzie looked up at her, looking not convinced at all, Hope snickered. “Don’t worry, we’ll probably only have to find jobs for a few months. Maybe a year.” The panic in her eyes was absolutely delicious.
Even then, Lizzie didn’t bring up using compulsion to get money, and neither did Hope. While she didn’t mind it herself, Lizzie had grown up completely under her father's rules. Then again, the blonde broke most of them, but for obvious reasons, she very much cared about free will and the sanctity of one’s mind.
Something Hope wouldn’t ever suggest Lizzie violate, apart from the purposes of feeding. Swerving the conversation, she gently moved her arm from under Lizzie and held back a hiss as pins and needles flared across it. “We can figure that out later. Do you want it to happen now?”
Lizzie bit her lip, clearly understanding what Hope was asking, then shook her head. “There’s something else I want to do first.” A hand reached up, caressing Hope’s jaw, and heat flared in her stomach.
Looking into those beautiful blue eyes as she leaned in, just before their lips met, she quietly asked, “Are you sure?”
Those beautiful pink lips curved upward. “I’ve never been more sure about anything. Expect me to get so much payback later, though.” Hope certainly well, hoped she did. Oh gods, did she hope Lizzie would return everything she was about to do and wanted to do a thousandfold. With that reassurance and threat, Hope crossed that last inch, and their lips met. One hand tangled through blond locks while the other wrapped around her waist.
Tongue met tongue as their lips playfully danced. During a brief break between kisses, Hope flipped them. Lizzie landed on her back, and Hope hovered over her, knees on each side of the much taller blonde’s ribs. Her lips planted playful kisses against Lizzie’s pale neck. “Last chance.”
Lizzie groaned. “Your care is nice and all that jazz, but if you don’t fuck me right now, I’m going to—” Her threat went unfinished, merging into a groan when the gentle kisses on her neck turned into a deeper pull, teeth grazing pale flesh. “Oh god, how do you even know I like that?”
Hope pulled away, a smirk on her lips. “Please. The scarves you used to wear, your obsession with your fangs, and how you would bite your lip when I fed.” She lightly nipped at the edge of Lizzie’s ear, her smirk growing into a wide grin at the utterly indecent moan and fluttering eyelashes it caused.
Those fantastically kissable lips opened in a gasp as Hope moved from her ear down the neck, constantly trailing kisses in her wake, before sucking once more at the blonde’s collarbone. Hope’s hands gently untied the bathrobe, looking up and into Lizzie’s half-lidded eyes as the robe slipped down her new… something's bare shoulders, revealing more and more of her body.
She knew Lizzie well enough to understand that eye contact—attention—would be everything. No matter how much she wanted to roam her gaze up and down, to devour those perky peaks, Hope wouldn’t. Not yet.
She kissed Lizzie’s collarbone again, right above where she sucked. “More or less of that?”
“More, so much more.”
With a smile, Hope’s lips trailed down as her hands, no longer needing to deal with the robe, wandered. One trailed up the side of Lizzie’s ribs, and the other helped Hope to reposition and continue the heated trail of her mouth downward.
Her lips met the edge of the swell of Lizzie’s breasts at the same time her wandering fingers did, yet she deliberately didn’t touch, continuing instead to trail kisses around. “Hope, please.” The plea was breathy and desperate. Having Lizzie at her mercy like this sent tingles down Hope’s spine and made fireworks go off deep in her belly, yet her hands didn’t trail down, even though her panties were most certainly going to be soaked soon.
Her own pleasure wasn’t what mattered to Hope right now, not after yesterday, not for today.
Hope ignored Lizzie’s plea and continued her worship, sucking particularly hard for a moment on a spot that had just made Lizzie spasm. “You think I teased you for a year? What about you, Lizzie? Every time you fed, losing yourself for just a moment in that primal joy. When your smile could light up rooms with the joy of having your own magic. Even worse, you teasing minx, when you’d finger yourself in the shower. You know I could hear that, and without humanity, I could do anything. You still did it.”
Light laughter spilled from Lizzie, and Hope couldn’t help but watch as she gloriously jiggled just a bit, but her eyes quickly snapped back up after a second. “I knew you wouldn’t do anything, but I certainly hoped it would frustrate you enough to switch it back on.”
An honest-to-gods growl ripped from Hope's throat as her canines lengthened, something she hadn’t even thought possible without undergoing the first shift. “It nearly worked.” Her words were slightly lisped, and she could see the brief moment of confusion that crossed her soon-to-be lover’s face.
Her new fangs grazed skin in an answer as her lips finally trailed up one breast, and a gasp filled with joy left Lizzie, which turned into a moan as she pressed a bit harder, not quite enough to pierce skin, but likely to leave a mark. ‘Gods were fucked up.’ She wouldn’t have it either way. “Oh fuck, fangs.” She hadn’t realized the word fangs could sound so sexy, and yet slipping out from Lizzie’s mouth, it was. Deaddeaddead. Her traitorous mind tried to conjure up horrific images, but Hope pushed past it, not allowing the moment to be ruined.
Hope planted another kiss, sucking lightly. Lizzie’s hips bucked underneath her, and Hope felt like crooning as her tongue swiped for just a second against her nipple to judge, before she promptly went back to kissing her way down the small but still oh-so amazing breast when she heard the shift in Lizzie’s breath. ‘No nipples then. Don’t worry, love.’
It was a shame because there were absolutely sinful things Hope would love to do to them, but Lizzie’s body was a temple, and she was perfectly fine devouring the rest of it.
Her hand left the other breast, and while her mouth slowly trailed down that lightly sculpted stomach, her hand grazed over it before playfully tracing up and down Lizzie’s inner thigh. The other hand moved to slip underneath her back to provide support.
A whine, another plea, left Lizzie. “Hope…” Hope’s lips drifted from the faint outline of abs to just above where Lizzie clearly wanted them, her fingers also teasing at the edge. “I swear that if you don't—” The threat was cut short, dissolving into a delirious moan as Hope’s lips finally met Lizzie’s clit. One finger gently swiped along previously untouched folds, not yet diving deeper, still cruelly teasing.
Her eyes were still locked onto Lizzie’s face, eagerly memorizing the way it shifted, her lips parted, and her eyelashes fluttered with each suck, lick, and gentle swipe Hope did. Took in how each bit of pressure, each prod, and gentle caress caused Lizzie to beautifully twist up. “Fingers.” The command was issued mid-gasp, and for once, instead of teasing, Hope did what she was asked. She took a single moment to internally thank her humanityless self for hating long nails.
Holding Lizzie with the arm pinned between her and the bed, Hope’s other hand gently moved forward, her first finger penetrating wet, warm folds for the first time. Her thumb landed on Lizzie’s clit as she gently pumped that lone finger in and out a few times. Hope’s mouth, now free, trailed heated kisses along Lizzie’s thigh, fangs lightly grazing where a vein was. All the while, her hand continued its ministrations. “Fuck. Another.”
Without question, Hope’s middle finger slipped inside as well, her mouth leaving that delectably tensed thigh to gently kiss and lap at the edge of Lizzie’s folds. It was awkward moving around now that both hand and mouth were so close together—Hope’s inexperience showing a bit—but she pushed past that, because what mattered was Lizzie right now.
With a second finger, it was oh so much tighter, and yet it was when that longer finger pushed all the way as far as she dared for the first time… “Oh god, yes. Right there!” Hope’s eyes lit up in genuine joy at the amazing cry that left Lizzie’s lips. Her heart pounded in ecstasy at the way Lizzie’s eyes went wide, and her mouth hung open.
Hope wanted to hear those sounds again, and again, and again. Wanted to see that sight for the rest of eternity. So she repeated the motion, thumb joining in to press a bit firmer than before onto Lizzie’s clit at the same time. The cries and moans got louder. “A third?” Watching her face, Hope saw Lizzie freeze for a second before shaking her head. “Alright.”
Her lips grazed skin once more, but it wasn’t teasingly near Lizzie’s clit or folds, but intimately on her inner thigh near a vein again, but not quite on it.
Her sharpened canines grazed skin once more. The urge to bite down all the way was strong, but she held back. With the lightest bit of pressure, her fangs barely broke skin, an act so close to what she had wanted to do as a vampire, but not quite there.
Lizzie froze, and for a brief moment, Hope thought she had been wrong. Then the loudest cry yet left Lizzie, her legs shook, and out of nowhere, Hope felt a throbbing around her fingers as the entrance they had been working tightened in tune with Lizzie’s heartbeat. “Yes! Holy fucking shit!” Her blonde, sweat-soaked hair splayed out across the bed as her back arched slightly off the sheets. Her mouth hung open, spilling out moans and nearly nonsensical cries. “Hope, oh god. Again pleasepleaseplease!”
Thick, viscous moisture coated her hand and face, yet Hope continued her actions, fingers pumping a bit faster. Her lips dropped to the other thigh, a speck of fresh blood now covering them. “That’s it. Come for me, Lizzie. Let it all out.” Fangs once more grazed flesh, and while Hope was embarrassed to say such a thing, sounding far too porn-like for her tastes, she knew she had done the right thing when warm walls fluttered around her fingers again, and a breathy groan escaped from Lizzie, different from before.
There were no more cries, just a silent gasp as hands curled up into the sheets of the bed, back still arched.
A few moments passed, and Lizzie slumped onto the bed, Hope’s arm that was still wrapped around her back gently guiding her down. Her shoulder throbbed from the awkward position it had been in, but she ignored it. Not caring about the weight on it now, or the burning aching pain that lanced through it.
Hope’s movements slowed, her middle finger leaving Lizzie, and soon after, her index finger followed as well. Taking a brief glance down, a jolt crawled down her spine before landing heavily in her own nethers at the sight of the soaked sheets, and the lightly swollen purple lips and clit of Lizzie.
At her thighs were two faint, twin impressions of teeth. The urge to finish that, to turn it into a true bite, throbbed through Hope again. So potent was the need that logic almost failed her.
But then her gaze trailed back up, and when Hope took stock of Lizzie, that need faded away as she saw the state Lizzie was in. It didn’t take any time to decide that she was definitely done and out of it. With glassy eyes, bitten and swollen red lips, reddened sweat-soaked skin, and ragged breath, Lizzie had never looked as beautiful—or exhausted. Hope wouldn’t tease or prod her anymore; it would be like fracturing a beautiful stained glass window, or purposefully smudging a painting.
Perhaps later, after Hope turned her into a heretic, but not now. Not when her witch was still fueled by mortal muscles and stamina.
She moved up, uncaring for her sticky fingers or how her shirt stuck. Not caring that her face was still wet, she carefully and lovingly dragged Lizzie into her arms and hugged her. When there was no immediate response, Hope spoke, her words a soft and gentle whisper. “Too much?” Her jaw ached when she talked, yet all that she was focused on was the woman, whom, even as a monster, she had loved.
“No.” Lizzie’s voice was raw from her cries and moans, but her eyes regained clarity quickly—although still with drooping eyelids—and she notably didn’t struggle to leave Hope’s grasp now that she was conscious. “It was perfect.”
Hope left a gentle kiss on her neck, different from the ones before, not meant to tease but comfort. “We can talk later. Do you want me to get you water or a towel?”
Lizzie shook her head. “Just hold me?” There was something so fragile in those words, and it tugged at Hope’s heartstrings.
“Of course.” Reaching out with her weakened, yet still beyond-belief potent magic, the sheet was pulled up and carefully maneuvered so that any wet spots would cover Hope instead of Lizzie. “I’ll be here when you wake back up.”
There was no doubt in Hope’s mind that Lizzie would soon fall back to sleep. The exhaustion that crept into those blue eyes, the shaking of her muscles, and how those blonde lashes were fluttering told her all she needed to know.
A minute later, she was proven correct when Lizzie’s breathing shifted, and her eyelids didn’t flutter open again. With a gentle look on her face, Hope’s jaw crackled as a yawn escaped, and she too slipped into sleep.