October 15, 1820

The carriage came to a stop.

She hadn't breathed normally the entire ride. Her heart was ready to leap out of her chest, jumping into her throat with each bump over the uneven road. The lack of movement made her aware of how tight her grip on her skirt was.

Slowly, she lifted her head to behold the large three-story house outside, with beautiful vines crawling over it. It was a home fit for royalty. The blonde across from her certainly looked like a princess, hair curled perfectly and wearing a dress that must have been worth a fortune. Then again, vampires could afford anything if they compelled themselves enough money or, simply, compelled themselves ownership of their heart's deepest desires.

"Here we are," said the blonde, waiting for the coachman to open the door for them. When he did, she accepted his hand to help her off. "We've arrived."

The brunette slowly followed her out, peeking ahead at the house they'd stopped in front of. She knew the blonde who brought her here was wealthy, but not this wealthy.

"Come in," urged the blonde, leading her into the parlor. "Make yourself comfortable."

She sat herself down, carefully smoothing her skirt over her legs, sitting up straight in the hopes of making a good first impression.

The blonde returned followed by two men. "Elijah, Nik," said Rebekah, gesturing to the woman, "this is Yara."

She stood, curtsying politely. "Good afternoon. It's a pleasure to meet you."

The one called Nik didn't reach out to greet her. "She's a vampire."

"Yes," said Yara before Rebekah could answer. "I'm told Originals can compel those of us who are not part of your family. I would willingly submit to it if you would like me to, for extra protection."

Elijah seemed impressed. "Well, Niklaus," he told his brother, "we will leave you to it." He ushered Rebekah away, knowing that they needed no further convincing that this woman was suitable for the job she was applying for.

It had been Rebekah's idea, after all, that Klaus should hire a governess to teach Marcel to read, write, and play various instruments. He would, she said, need a maternal figure for comfort.

She'd met the brunette by chance, inquiring about purchasing a dress far out of her budget. Rebekah noted she hadn't even attempted to use compulsion to acquire it for herself. She'd told the saleswoman that she would return when she had enough money for it.

She sat with her, listened to her story. And she knew right away that young Marcel would find himself connecting with this woman, born much under the same circumstances that he'd been. A man imposing his power on an innocent woman, fathering a bastard child who would never have anything to their name. Poverty and slavery had killed this woman. What saved her was the vampire blood in her system.

Within the first minute of meeting Niklaus Mikaelson, she knew he wasn't a trusting man. Rebekah had given her a brief explanation on the way there, informing her that her brother struggled with opening up to people.

It all but assured that she would fight to obtain this job. Not only because she needed an honest way to earn money (and something worthwhile to do on a daily basis), but because she wanted to be there to comfort and aid others who'd grown up much like her. While Marcel was to be her main concern, she realized that Niklaus wouldn't have adopted him if he hadn't seen something of himself in the boy. Though he was far older than her, she came to understand that his inner child had sustained quite a bit of damage. Perhaps it would be useful for him to have a confidant, a friend, someone he could complain to, freely.

She made this assumption without considering he might simply murder her outright.

She hoped he wouldn't. But she knew she was risking everything just by being here.

Still, she had to try.

"Your name?" asked Klaus flatly when his siblings had left the room, and the woman had taken a seat once more.

"Yara Lopes."

"Is that your real name?"

"If I had taken the name of the man who sired me, I'd have been Yara Álvares-Cabral. I instead choose to use my mother's surname with pride."

He showed no signs of sympathy. "Elaborate."

The way he was looking at her nearly sent a chill down her spine. Those eyes, they were gorgeous, but untrusting. Suspicious. Perhaps sizing her up for a fight. As if he worried she planned to lie to him, or butter him up in some way. As if he'd need to defend Marcel from her. Defend himself from her. If he did choose to fight her, she wouldn't win no matter how hard she tried.

She cleared her throat, ensuring that despite her worries, she looked him in the eyes. "My mother, Isadora Lopes, was living comfortably in what is now known as Brazil. She took care of her parents, and though they were not wealthy, they lived comfortably. In the year 1500, the Portuguese explorer Pedro Álvares Cabral arrived in their home, seizing it for his country. My mother had just turned sixteen when he found her. Killed her parents, assaulted her. Near the beginning of the following year, I was born. My mother abandoned Brazil, fled the Portuguese. She left everything she knew behind to protect me. For the first year of my life, she moved us constantly. Living in the wild, fighting to survive, journeying further and further North until she happened upon the Yucatán Peninsula, where she was trapped. The Spanish made her a slave alongside the Mayans. I became a slave as soon as I could walk.

"It wasn't until 1520, when I was nineteen, that my mother enacted a plan to escape. We found ourselves in Haiti, and for a time, we thought we'd made it somewhere safe. We were wrong. Vampires had begun to settle into Haiti, and we became slaves again. We were servants to a vampire who made himself royalty there. We never saw him but we were always bled out for him, and given his blood afterward to heal. We cleaned his home, made his food. We were lucky, in that time. He wasn't the sort who took advantage of women. In 1527, a stronger vampire came and killed him. Thatvampire was far less kind. He killed my mother the first time he fed on her. I watched the light leave her eyes. I thought I was next. Me, he only fed on a little bit. He healed me, left me with my mother's dead body. I thought it was better to die on my own terms than be killed by him. I hung myself with his blood still in my system, having no idea what it would do to me.

"I awoke a vampire. One of the other slaves found me. She was already preparing to bury me beside my mother. I couldn't stop myself from feeding on her. I overdid it, and she died. Before anyone else could find me, I fled. I moved constantly during the night, slept during the day. For the past nearly three hundred years, I've traveled the world, learning to survive, learning what it means to be a vampire. Since then I've managed to acquire a daylight ring. I've learned about the other creatures, the wolves and the witches. How to avoid them, how to protect myself from them, how it is that I can help them in order for them to do me favors. I've freed any slaves I've ever found, killed their masters, made sure no child I've found loses their mother the way I did. I was taught to read, to write, to be a lady in different societies. I've acquired honest work, been a governess in many countries. I speak virtually every language that exists. Just six years ago, I returned to liberate Brazil. They were elevated to the rank of a kingdom, free at last. And then, I found myself here. I was hired as a governess for a wealthy family and was recently let go when the children came of age.

"I require a good job where I can earn money without the need for compulsion. I require a place to call home long term. I would very much appreciate being hired for this position. To teach Marcel, to protect him. I know how difficult it can be for children to adapt to new environments after escaping traumatic situations. I think I can help him better than anyone else you might consider for this task. As I said, I would submit to compulsion if that would be suitable for you. I would not shy away from a protective measure you think would help your child. And, one last thing. I know you are a first-time parent. I know the tales about you, Niklaus. They are not quite child-friendly. Therefore, I am hoping I can help you, too. To show you what I've learned about children. How best to parent them. If you need a friend to lean on, I will be there for you. To ensure that the violence we endured from childhood and even entering our adult lives is not something Marcel comes to witness or experience."

She waited for him to respond for what felt like an eternity. She realized perhaps she'd overestimated how understanding he would be. Yara had learned quite a bit about Klaus outside of what Rebekah had explained. She hadn't known it was him at the time, but now the pieces had clicked together. Vampires talked, and after so many centuries, she was well-versed in ways of intercepting their messages in order to keep herself informed of important happenings in the supernatural world. It had always kept her safe, ensuring she knew more about potential enemies than they could ever know about her.

Not that she ever considered the Mikaelsons to be enemies. She, like most vampires, admired them from afar. Feared them, reasonably. She'd be an idiot not to.

When he still didn't answer, she added, "I am well aware of what fate will befall me if I cross you. I do not intend to bring any harm to your family. I know my weaknesses and I assure you I have no desire to see your son harmed. I simply need your money just as much as you need my help. It's not wise to bite the hand that feeds you, is it? If loyalty is your concern, my loyalty you will have even without need for compulsion. I've no reason to want to betray you. As long as you respect me, we will get along swimmingly. Everything that we do, we do for him. That said, I humbly ask for the position, Mr. Mikaelson."

"I will return shortly," said Klaus, excusing himself from the room. "Wait here."

She did as she was told. Completely still, she touched nothing, and hardly let her eyes drift around the room. She could hear a muffled conversation between Klaus and his siblings. Something they were doing was obstructing her ability to hear it clearly. They were clever, that was certain.

The door opened. She stood when she saw Elijah. "Miss Lopes," he said cordially, "follow me."

As he led her to one of the downstairs studies, he said, "My brother is preparing Marcel for a brief meeting with you. He takes vervain, therefore–"

"I would never dream of feeding on a child, or attempting to compel them," said Yara immediately. "Does this mean I've acquired the position?"

Elijah's lips twitched. "We will see what Marcel thinks of you. Though, if you must know, my sister and I are convinced you are the right person for this assignment."

"And what of your brother?"

"Niklaus takes far longer to warm up to new faces."

She was made to wait in the lower study, where a piano was propped open and waiting to be played. The door opened, and she expected Klaus himself to come in and escort Marcel to her.

Instead, the boy arrived alone.

"Hello," said Marcel timidly, staring at her for a second before lowering his gaze to the ground.

"Hello," she said, kneeling down. "Goodness, you are tall for your age. I think you might be taller than Niklaus when you're older."

He started to smile. "You think so?"

"Oh, I know so. My name is Yara. And you are Marcel, yes?"

He nodded. "What does 'Yara' mean?"

"It means 'lady of the water.' My mother had a water birth; she felt it fitting. Did you know, my surname, Lopes, means 'wolf?'" He shook his head. "It's one of my nicknames in the vampire world. They call me 'The Lone Wolf.'"

"I like that," said Marcel. "My name, Marcellus, means 'little warrior.'"

"And a warrior you will be," she affirmed. "Your name fits you well."

"Do you have other nicknames?" asked Marcel. "Or anything else that people call you?"

"Only one other that I'm aware of. It's not exactly the nicest, but many know me as 'The Conqueror's Nightmare.' Because when anyone takes over a land or a group of people unlawfully, I make sure to put a stop to them."

"Klaus says that you are like me."

"I am. My father was an explorer. My mother and I were slaves even after she escaped him. When you're older, I can tell you all the gorey details, if you'd like."

"I'm old enough!"

"You are only ten, little warrior. I think we'll wait until you are nineteen. That is how old I was when everything changed. When I first learned of the supernatural."

"Fine, I can wait until then. Are you going to teach me?"

"I would very much like to. Would you like to be able to read and write?"

He nodded more enthusiastically this time. "Yes, and I want to play instruments and speak more languages."

She grinned. "Then I am the right person to help you. Come." She beckoned him to sit beside her on the piano. She let her fingers drift over the keys, thinking for a brief moment before starting to perform a playful melody she used to entertain the children of her previous employers. "Here, this one is simple. Place your fingers here." She moved his hands gently. "Follow," she led, and had him imitate. "Slowly, there you go. And let us repeat... and again... now a bit faster."

He started to laugh when he saw his own fingers jumping around just as hers had. "I did it!"

"You are a quick learner," she praised. "I know many other instruments, I could teach you any that you would like to learn. Same goes for languages."

He stared down at the piano keys. "Do I have to call you 'Mother?'"

Yara furrowed her brows. "No, of course not. You can call me Yara, or anything else that you'd like. I know you had a mother. And I know you must have loved her very much. I do not wish to replace her. I only wish to guide you, to make sure you have someone you feel safe with no matter what. I could be anything you want me to be. Simply a mentor, a teacher. Or you could think of me as an older sister, if you'd like. A maternal figure, if you wish, but you needn't call me any variation of 'Mother.' It's all up to you, little warrior. You are in control of your own fate. You decide what I am to you and I will adjust accordingly."

This seemed to please him. "What about horses? Can you ride horses?"

"I can, yes. I know how to do many things with my hands. I've worked in many places before being a governess. I once worked on a ship, and was at sea for many months. And once, I worked on a railway in Germany, where trains were invented. I can build things, though it is not my strength. One can learn anything if they set their minds to it and practice enough. What matters is that you enjoy it. Having a positive attitude and believing you are capable of anything helps as well."

Marcel tried to think of what else he wanted to learn. "And cooking? Can you cook?"

"Yes, I know many recipes from many places around the world. I could teach them to you."

"How are you going to teach me in my lessons? Is it going to be hard?"

"It won't be easy, that's for certain. I was thinking of making a schedule for us, for each day. I think we'll have you learn to read first. Start simple with some small books, have you learn grammar and some other basic writing rules before we get you practicing your letters. Once you can read and write, we can start doing a different subject– arithmetic. An essential skill, you never know when it might come in handy. Then, little by little, we can explore other things. History, science, and as you get older, literature with more mature themes so you can learn about the world from the eyes of others. Perhaps we can dabble in subjects like astronomy. The balconies here are excellent to prop up a telescope and look at the stars. We can have two days off each week so that we can do whatever we'd like. Horseback riding, fencing, cooking. And there are things even I am still learning, so it gives me time to practice and make sure I know everything I need to in order to teach you. We can also work on our emotions, talking through situations and learning how to be a good person without denying our strongest feelings. You will be able to tell me your worries and I can give you advice."

Marcel's eyes were as wide as saucers. "That is a lot."

"It is," she admitted. "But we have many years for you to learn. And once you are able to read and write, I imagine you will progress through other subjects very quickly. You are still young, and I notice children learn things far easier than us adults. Were it not for my vampirism, I would not believe my mind capable of learning so many new things. I very much enjoy it."

"What about you? What are you going to learn?"

"I am not sure yet. I suppose, if I am confirmed to have this job, I need to learn the rules of the house. I bet you're already an expert on those."

Marcel shrugged. "Not really. I just have to say 'please' and 'thank you' to the servants when they bring me things."

"You strike me as a very respectful boy," she said. "It's a good starting point. I once had a little boy who threw tantrums every time something did not go his way. He would fall to the floor and scream until he was given what he wanted."

"And what did you do?"

"I taught him how to manage his emotions. How to breathe and think through what he felt, to communicate it to those around him using his words and not his fists, to understand why sometimes things don't go the way we'd like them to. The world is not perfect. It can be unfair. You and I know that better than most, don't we? Some people are born into homes where they have everything they could ever want. They never struggle to find a meal, never have to know the feeling of a strike on your body because you did not do work fast enough."

Marcel hummed. "I like you, Miss Yara. I want you to stay."

She beamed. "Well, I hope I will be able to."

Rebekah came to fetch Marcel, taking him into the kitchen for supper. Elijah and Klaus met her in the same study, presumably pleased by her interaction with Marcel, if one could judge by the fact they did not snarl at her.

"Our sister has decided which room will be yours," said Elijah. "I do hope you understand why we wish for you to live here."

"Of course," she said, figuring they were being very discreet about Marcel's presence, or they were all just as paranoid as Klaus was known to be. It worked out for her either way. "I will fetch my belongings and return with them this evening."

"Additionally," said Klaus tightly, "we will not allow any visitors at any hours."

"That is alright. I haven't many friends in the state, and those who are my friends are humans still serving my previous employers."

"You will not be allowed to drink vervain, in case we ever need to compel you."

"That is doable. Though, I hope you will ask me for my permission before you do it. If it is for Marcel's safety, I will always consent. However, there are lines I will draw when it comes to my mind being controlled. The last time I was able to be compelled, it was for a terrible reason."

Elijah assented. "We will do as you ask. As for payment, we will give you money at the end of each week, if that suits you. The room and board will not be deducted from it; that is our gift to you as it costs us nothing to add another person to our home."

"Forgive me for asking," inquired Yara, "but... you'd pay me each week? How much?"

"One hundred dollars a week, if you would like."

Yara's mouth dropped open. "You're certain? My previous employers paid me fifty dollars a month if I was lucky."

"One hundred dollars a week is fine," said Elijah with a smile.

Yara realized she'd underestimated just how wealthy the Mikaelsons were after so many centuries alive. She decided there was no point in arguing, lest they change the amount she was being given. "Thank you very much, Mr. Mikaelson."

He beamed. "Please, call me Elijah. Welcome home, Miss Lopes."

Klaus was nowhere near as pleasant as his brother. He didn't smile, and his body language remained fairly tense. His hands, however, were relaxed. That was all Yara needed to know that he was welcoming her, in his own way.

He watched her like a hawk that evening when she brought two large bags containing all her clothes. He waited in the hallway while she arranged everything in her room. Marcel sat on her bed, watching her organize her clothes in the spacious closet.

"I've never had my own lavatory before," she said. "This is a very nice home."

"I like it a lot," said Marcel with a smile. "It's new. They used to live in a different house. It was nice but not as nice as this one."

"This one is wonderful. It has its own music room, several studies, and the ballroom is splendid. Do you know how to dance?"

Marcel tilted his head. "Dance? Ballroom dancing, no."

"Then I'll teach you how to, someday. I didn't learn until recently. When I was little, whenever we were able to, we'd just dance barefoot... moving our bodies however we wanted. Whenever we weren't caught, that is."

"You didn't have brothers and sisters?" asked Marcel.

"No, I didn't. It was only me and my mother. A few friends. My mother did not have siblings, either. No cousins for me."

"I had a brother," said Marcel. "I didn't really know him."

Yara nodded, recalling Rebekah mentioning the Governor's son. They had all met Marcel at Emil's funeral, after Klaus killed him. "I like to think that when people like us, only children, grow up, our friends can become like siblings. I've had friends who have been like sisters and brothers to me. Family I choose. Blood is important, in some cases. But so is the family you choose. The people you will fight for and the people who fight for you. Remember that."

She walked him back to his room once he began to yawn. She helped him set out his clothes for the following day, aided him in brushing his teeth, then tucked him in, sitting beside him and telling him a story she made up, of a young prince who discovered a pegasus foal while out with his puppy. He'd nursed it to health and when it grew, he, the little dog, and the pegasus had flown through the night sky, where the prince tried to touch the stars.

"Goodnight, little prince," she said when she realized he'd fallen asleep. She caressed his cheek, leaning down to kiss his forehead. She slowly exited the room, shutting the door carefully behind her.

"Yara."

Klaus's presence surprised her, but she did not allow him to see that she was nervous. "Niklaus," she responded simply.

"Call me Klaus," he urged. "I prefer it."

"Of course, forgive me."

He tilted his head. "There is something you should know. Something I require your help with."

"What is it?"

"Marcel, he's already made comments about fancying Rebekah."

"That's adorable," said Yara. "Of course he will fancy her now; he is learning about love and his feelings. Though, he will grow and mature and will likely get over it. I'm sure Rebekah is smart enough to not respond in any way, as he is a child."

"He insists that when he is older and more mature, he will marry her."

"If that ends up happening, it will be a very long time from now. From what she told me, she does not partake in any of his activities aside from fencing and she has no maternal or aunt-like inclinations and is really just another person who lives here who treats him with respect. Are you worried?"

"I do not wish for them to ever be together. You will help me enforce that."

"I understand you feeling that way right now. But if Marcel eventually becomes a vampire, a century from now, things might be very different. They both might feel different."

"Even if they do, I will not allow it."

"Because you have adopted him as your son and she is his aunt?"

That didn't seem to be what bothered him. "Because my sister is a fool when it comes to men. I am the one constant she has."

She nodded slowly. "You think eventually Rebekah will leave you to be with him. You don't wish to be left alone. You have abandonment issues."

His jaw tightened. "We are not here to discuss my 'issues.'"

"Well, I suppose not," she said cautiously. "Though, my door is always open if there is anything you wish to discuss. Be it about Marcel or about yourself."

"You were hired to help him."

"I can still help you."

He narrowed his eyes. "I do not require your help."

She shrugged. "We'll see about that."