Yara felt like she was floating.

She'd been laying in her bed staring at the ceiling, still able to feel Klaus's touch, the feeling of his lips on her cheek, how he'd promised her a date as soon as Dahlia was gone and they were free to do as they pleased in their city.

It wasn't like this was anything new, it wasn't like she hadn't been on a date with him before, like he'd never kissed her before.

And yet it was different, it was foreign, it gave her a pleasant set of butterflies in her belly that made her feel young again, or at least as young as she'd been when she first started to find Klaus attractive, all those decades ago.

They weren't the same two people from that day in 1820, shy and uncertain about one another. They weren't the same people from 1857 who killed Rayna Cruz together and finally had the courage to be honest about their feelings. They weren't the same people from 1919 who snarled awful things out of grief.

And they weren't even the same people from just a year ago. A year ago Yara was still in São Luis neglecting her daylight ring and looking skeletal because she hardly fed, and she'd had no goals and no passions left to enjoy. A year later she was in New Orleans, reunited with her son, holding a newborn daughter in her arms, remembering how happy she'd been and feeling that her life could be complete.

Hope was oblivious to it. She just wanted to be fed on time and was desperate to be hugged. Yara accommodated her easily, but was continuing to stare at Klaus from across the dining room table or across the courtyard, watching as he went about his day as if he hadn't almost made her faint in the nursery. One more second and her heart might've stopped.

I am so ridiculously touch starved. I hate it.

Then again, Klaus had always had that effect on her. That devil.

"Good news and bad news," said Rebekah, escorted in by Marcel, who seemed distressed. "Which do you want first?"

"How about the good?" said Yara.

"Oh, well, Freya's been invited to brunch. Elijah should be here soon; Cami is still at the safe house and he plans to return after our meal. She's requested Finn and Kol's presence. With any luck, everything that needs to be said... will be said."

"That's wonderful. Nerve-wracking, I think, but a good opportunity. Now, what's the bad news?"

"That part is really bad," said Marcel. "Look, this witch Rebekah's in, she was in the Fauline Cottage for a reason. Apparently she killed a bunch of kids and nobody ever found their bodies. She was married to Vincent Griffith, and the witches are already unhappy that Finn was possessing his body. Now, apparently, two other kids went missing last night and everyone insists Rebekah– or Eva Sinclair, I guess– is responsible. They want to take her but I said we'd open negotiations."

Yara set her hands on her hips. "And you offered me as the negotiator, didn't you?"

"It was either you or Elijah," said Rebekah. "And he wouldn't miss Freya's brunch. Besides, you were friends with Josephine La Rue's father."

"Alright... then I will see what I can do. You handle Freya, I handle Josephine. And someone please keep an eye on my little girl, she was being fussy all morning."

Marcel caught her arm before she could head out. "Just a word of warning. Josephine isn't like her dad. She's an eccentric old bat with no love for vampires."

"Not to worry, Marcel," said Yara. "I could charm the devil if I needed to."

The mansion belonging to Josephine was luxurious even from the outside. The interior was well-decorated but cluttered, as if the women were a borderline hoarder. She was made to wait in a sitting room before Josephine beckoned her into the living room. The woman's ice-blue eyes were as striking on her as they'd been on her father. But Phineas La Rue at the very least hadn't possessed a resting bitch face.

"Good morning," said Yara, bowing her head respectfully, and offering her hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you. My name is–"

"I know who you are," said Josephine, holding out her veiny, arthritic hands and not taking Yara's. "The woman who bore the hybrid's child. New Orleans has known about The Lone Wolf for a long time."

"I do go by other names," said Yara. "Stargazer is one of them. I had a telescope I loved that I'd prop up on my balcony to see the stars. I'd let all the children in New Orleans look through it. One of them was your father, Phineas. I saw him grow in height and in power, until he was elected Regent. He was a good man. I was sad to hear of his passing so young."

Josephine eyed her closely. "Yes, I'm told you did know him."

"I knew him well. Worked with him on many occasions, helped to establish a peace between all our communities. Something I wish to continue today. Now, I've only recently learned what the Dowager Fauline Cottage is used for and I assure you that it was an accident that those witches escaped. I'm prepared to send out teams of my own to gently detain those witches and bring them back. In exchange for one. I hope we can be cordial with one another as we work on an agreement to benefit–"

"And why would I be cordial to you?" said Josephine. "Since your family has returned to this city, our Elders have been murdered. Promising young witches have been inhabited against their will."

"I understand," said Yara. "And I wish you to know that not all of that was under our control. Yes, those witches were inhabited against their will, but that has since been handled. We returned Cassie to you when Rebekah stopped Esther Mikaelson's influence on the Coven and we returned Vincent Griffith to you when we captured Finn Mikaelson. We're working on a solution to return Kol Mikaelson to his Original body so we may give back Kaleb Westphall as well. I can ensure no other witches come to any harm–"

"With all due respect, I can believe that... as much as I believe I will play my violin someday. Because, Ms. Lopes, beneath your kind smile rests a beast. You are all the same. Liars. Monsters wearing the skins of humans."

It was a struggle to keep her cool. "Of course, Ms. La Rue, I don't deny this," said Yara calmly. "I only wish to shed light on our side of the story. Which I understand may not matter, but it is also wise not to deny its existence. Before my family left, we were maintaining peace in New Orleans. What happened in 1919 was a disaster and since then we'd abandoned the city. That is until Klaus was lured back here by an enemy. The witches of the French Quarter Coven discovered Hayley Marshall pregnant in a restaurant and used it to recruit the Mikaelsons' resources to hurt Marcel. No one in the family had any intention of working with the witches or harming them. But they roped us in and people got hurt because they started it. Now, I'm not saying our response was correct. But you know as well as I the policy of all supernatural communities, especially in this city. Here, it is an eye for an eye. And when the witches placed the family in a tight spot, they retaliated. It doesn't mean it is right or fair, and I do see how wrong it was to harm the witches. But it was a natural response. If you claim to understand vampires, then all witches know what to expect when you mess with one, especially one in such an influential family.

"Despite everything, we helped the Harvest ritual be completed. It was hijacked and we sought the same thing the rest of the Covens did– to bring back the right girls. The witches we killed committed offenses against members of the community. Bastianna Natale cursed Father Kieran O'Connell, a man of God, just as the Elder Agnes cursed his nephew, Sean. An innocent boy turned murderer who killed himself at a place of worship. And I didn't see a response from the witches. I didn't see a punishment for it. Alphonz Bellatunde Delgallo slaughtered vampires to make a cursed blade and it seemed like a surprise to everyone that the community reacted to it. Céleste Dubois lied for decades and cursed the Crescent Werewolves. She undid the curse and her corruption was put to a stop. As for Genevieve... that woman tried to kill me and my child. Now, you may call me a monster, and I may be one because I am undead, but I will make no apologies for what had to be done to keep my daughter alive.

"My proposal is simple. When Elijah was attempting to establish a peace, I wanted you to speak for the witches, not Genevieve. I wanted us to let this spread over the entire city, not just the French Quarter. I am in a unique position right now to influence all other communities. My son speaks for the vampires, his girlfriend speaks for the humans, and the biological mother of the child I bore is now the co-Alpha of the Crescent Pack. No one wants peace more than I do. For my kids and for a city I love, a city that is my home. I would like us to work something out. And in the meantime, I return to you the escaped witches in exchange for the body Rebekah inhabits. We will put her back in her true body soon enough and then we can give you Eva Sinclair. We will make sure she hurts no other children. In fact, I was told those bodies were never found. But I uncover everything buried, I have rewritten history because of the bones I find. If anyone can locate their bodies so they may be put to rest, it will be me."

Josephine leaned back in her seat. "I don't trust the Mikaelsons, Ms. Lopes. To conduct business with them–"

"I'm not asking you to trust them. I'm asking you to trust me. I am part of their family but I don't carry their name and I only know a fragment of their history. Your father knew the rest of mine, what I've endured, why I make it my policy to be as honest as I can be and never harm children. I don't want my daughter to grow up in a warzone. The truth, Ms. La Rue, is that my daughter is a tribrid who everyone happens to be afraid of. I don't want her to be at odds with herself because of trouble within the communities. I want unity. I want... to see wolf and witch children playing in the streets again. I want to see vampires taking wolves out on dates and I want to see witches teaching humans about herbs. I miss that. And you may not have known it but your father did. I will work like hell to keep the peace if you just let Rebekah be safe. I will fix this. I'll fix all of it."

She sighed. "Very well, Ms. Lopes. You have twenty-four hours. Return the witches, find those children, and ensure that Eva Sinclair is not fighting Rebekah Mikaelson for control of that body. Do this and we can discuss peace."

Yara had her work cut out for her.

She got a roster of all the witches that'd been at the Dowager Fauline Cottage, circling the pictures of those who escaped. She compelled a group of poachers to track them on foot and paid a group of Tulane students to track them using computers. She'd sent the pictures to Marcel and Hayley to have their communities keep a lookout. Davina was the one she consulted about Rebekah, to figure out how they would search her mind and find out where those kids were.

"Kol was just teaching me about this," said Davina excitedly, flipping through her grimoire. "He was telling me about this bridge between the mind of the host and the mind of, well, the parasite. If we can tap into that bridge, get Rebekah in a semi-lucid state– in the sense Eva is partially in control– we can search both and see where it is, through emotions, that Eva has anchored her magic. She has to have put the kids in the same spot."

"Okay, cool, then that could work," murmured Yara. "Think you can handle the spell by yourself?"

"I think so. But I'm sure Kol could help? Or Freya. Apparently she's very powerful too."

"You know, that might not be a bad idea. Just to make sure we really cover all our bases."

Thankfully, by the time they were done planning, the brunch was over. Not that it had gone very smoothly (Finn was apparently now trapped in a pendant Freya carried because she, like any sane person, recognized the foolishness behind his plans to hurt Hope. And on top of that, she'd happened to mention her immortality, which Klaus obviously had to test by snapping her neck).

Still, despite Klaus's blatant mistrust, Elijah was in agreement about Freya participating in the spell to find the children. She'd even been kind enough to offer to track the witches who hadn't already been shipped back to the Dowager Fauline Cottage.

"Well, that went well," said Yara the next morning, having just sent one of her helpers to the La Rue Mansion to deliver the completed roster and exact location of the actually-not-so-dead children to the Regent. "Freya is quite nice."

"We can't trust her," muttered Klaus sourly.

"Maybe not fully and not yet, but we've been cautious before. We can be cautious again."

"She sent Mikael to procure the ingredients needed to kill Dahlia. She put the life of our daughter in his hands!"

"No, she put her life in his hands. He'd do it for her. He won't shirk those responsibilities just because it benefits Hope, too. From what Rebekah told me, it seems Mikael was very gentle with her. And I think it handles our problem of him eventually coming back to try and stab you with the white oak you currently have hidden."

"But if Freya betrays us–"

"She won't. Not when our support is the difference between her freedom and life imprisoned. I still need to talk to her to see how I feel, give me a second to decide. If she does anything, we'll all hurt her."

"And what if we're too late? What if Freya is duplicitous? What if Hope should be harmed through her actions?"

"She won't be. I know you are not pleased with the idea of a new siblings you can't... well... for lack of a better word... control. You've had the others under your thumb but Freya is different, she challenges you, and already you can see Mikael treats her nicer. It's a horrible thing to be rubbed in. You don't need to like her but I hope you will realize she has power we need. Knowledge we need. She will help Hope... I want to believe that."

This was confirmed once she was able to speak with Freya alone.

"It's good to see you," said Yara when she found Freya in her new room at the Compound. "Though, I can't say it's the first time. You were Kol's date to the 1914 Christmas party, weren't you?"

"Yes," admitted Freya shyly. "I wanted a glimpse of my family."

"I wish we'd have known who you were. I'm glad you were able to find your siblings after all this time. I know you just ran through your story, and I certainly don't want to pressure you into doing it again, but I'd like to hear it from you, Freya, not anyone else."

She nodded. "Well, to begin, I'm here because of a spell Dahlia cast, placing me in a deep sleep for a century, only to then wake for a single year of life. I've repeated this cycle for hundreds of years. It started as a way for us to stay young and beautiful. She said if a witch can't be immortal, this was the next best thing. But, in time, I realized that all her stories were paired with lies. Dahlia lives and she hunts. I fled from her long ago, and I've been running ever since. To Dahlia, any act of betrayal is punishable by death. I thought Dahlia was my cross to bear, that she'd have no grudge against anyone but me. Then I learned of your daughter. She will find her, soon enough. Her magic will draw Dahlia in, serving as a beacon that will call her to come and take what's hers. If I've woken from my slumber, Dahlia has as well. She will kill anyone who stands in her way of taking Hope. Unless we kill her first."

Yara nodded slowly. "Yes, I was told Mikael is procuring the materials we need to kill her."

"He is. He'll return soon. When he is back, we will forge weapons that can be used against her. Your child will be safe. And I will be free."

She saw no reason that Freya would be lying. She looked at her and could almost see herself. Someone trapped and wanting to be free, someone who would do anything to accomplish it. It made her dangerous, yes. But it also meant she would be useful to their cause. Two birds, one stone. So long as they kept her close, there was no chance she'd be swayed to do something selfish. Yara figured they needed to keep her empathizing, make sure she kept wanting Hope's freedom, too.

She had to find out how much empathy the woman could possibly have.

"That's the goal," said Yara slowly. "Eventually you'll be able to roam around here, carefree. Maybe find a partner, have children."

Freya faltered, and Yara knew she'd hit the jackpot. "Do you wish to know why I hate Dahlia?"

"Only if you're comfortable telling me."

"It goes back to a man. His name was Mathias. We knew each other for one perfect year in the early 1400s. I loved him more than my own life, and Dahlia allowed me to love him. She wanted me to bear her another firstborn. I broke my vow and gave into love, and that led to the darkest moment of my life. The day when I tried to steal from Dahlia that which she wanted most... my son. Mathias only wanted our son to be born free. For that, Dahlia cursed him to death. I knew that I'd never be free of her, that my child would be born a slave. To spare us both the horrors of the life I'd known, I took a bottle of Dahlia's strongest poison. I wanted to die, for only death could give me the release I longed for. But Dahlia knew that my death was never an option. That was the day that I learned I could never die. I was immortal, but my son was not. When I killed myself, I killed him. It was Dahlia who made me do what I did. She turned me into a monster and I willdestroy her for it."

Yara's lip quivered. "As someone who has gone through that... I am so, so sorry."

Freya laughed bitterly. "I mean no offense, but the loss of your son was not like the loss of mine. Yes, you raised him and you thought he died, but you got him back."

"That's not what I meant." She sat beside her. "I, too, killed myself. It's how I became a vampire. My mother had been drained of blood right in front of me. I wanted it to end. I also wanted to be free of that miserable life, of forced servitude, of the constant fear of how else I might be exploited, what other horrible things my master would see fit to do to me. I was free... but at what cost? I would not die, I would always be alone and without my mother."

She took her hands, "You did," said Yara, her voice breaking, "what you thought you had to do to escape. I am so so tired of seeing the looks I get whenever I've told someone my story. They just don't understand that for us, in our darkest moment, death was meant to be a release from the misery we didn't think would end. And sometimes it does more harm than good. They call us cowards, quitters, they say we gave up and stopped fighting. But we got a second chance. We got back up and we came back stronger and we have fought every day since and because of that, we earn our freedom. I promise you, Freya, that I will help you. I will help my daughter. Nothing I say or do can bring back your son. Nothing will ever make you forget your loss or undo the damage Dahlia inflicted. But I can fight for your freedom and make sure that eventually you can live your life as you choose to and you never have to be put in that position again."

Freya leaned onto her, beginning to cry. Yara rubbed her back affectionately, hoping she would feel safe here with her. She wondered if Freya had told this same story to Klaus, if he saw the similarities between their stories, if he realized he might be shaming Freya for something he'd once comforted Yara about.

It didn't matter if she had or hadn't told him before this. Yara looked up and saw Klaus in the doorway, lip trembling as if he'd either just learned it or just made the connection. She motioned for him to stay quiet and pretend he wasn't there, putting her arm on the woman's head and giving her a gentle massage.

He didn't need to trust Freya. He trusted Yara, and that was enough.