Hope was spoiled.

With a million people willing to do her bidding (pretend to be the voice of her stuffed animals) and bending over backwards to make her laugh (laying on the floor with her and tickling her belly), she was growing to expect the constant praise she received each day that she was a Princess of New Orleans.

It was better to be able to walk around with her on the streets. Yara could now push a stroller all the way to the docks if she wanted to, and no one would hurt them. Hope could reach out for flowers and pinwheels that were given to her for free (though Yara would drop change into the collection bins afterward) just because she was so cute.

Klaus could now paint by the balcony, with Hope relaxing in her cot beside him, cooing and every now and then waking up to demand attention. Whenever he or Yara were busy, Elijah was glad to watch her (Hope seemed to like playing with his ties) and Freya would happily have her on her hip while preparing different spells.

Rebekah and Kol (resurrected generously by Davina upon becoming Regent) were traveling and enjoying their mortal witch bodies, but never forgot to send Hope all sorts of gifts, even calling her so she'd recognize their voices. Hope grew excited whenever she heard Kol call her 'buddy.'

Cami and Marcel were frequent visitors, the most trusted babysitters by Klaus's standards if his siblings were too busy to watch Hope whenever he and Yara went on dates. Sometimes, Ansel would swing by, but now that the threat from Dahlia had passed, he preferred to spend his days out in the woods rather than be surrounded by buildings. Every now and then, Klaus paid him a visit, always coming back with a new carving. Yara began to wonder if they'd stopped meaning anything once he began using them as decorations by Hope's window.

The one whose presence (or lack thereof) began to worry her the most was Davina.

She'd become increasingly busy with her duties as Regent, which Yara understood until she started to notice changes in Davina's behavior.

"I don't like this," said Yara to Marcel a few weeks later when Davina had stated that no vampires were to enter the cemetery. "I know she's trying to appeal to the witches, I know she doesn't want to seem like a vampire sympathizer, but we had an agreement, freely roaming and benefitting the communities. Now there are restrictions... no vampires or wolves in the witch neighborhoods, no vampires in the cemetery... is she coming up with this on her own or is someone whispering in her ear, making her isolate herself?"

"I don't know," said Marcel, remaining very still so Hope could rest comfortably on his chest. "But I'm not liking it either. I've hardly spoken to her this week. It's a miracle if she can return texts these days. She used to be here all the time to see Hope and now she won't visit."

"Wasn't Vincent supposed to mentor her?"

"Yeah, doesn't seem like he made good on that promise. Since the guy won't practice magic, he's withdrawn from everything. He put her in that seat just to step aside and let her handle it on her own. She doesn't know how to run a whole coven! She'll do whatever she thinks will make the witches happy until they inevitably put her in a tight spot and, well, we all know how temperamental Davina can be. I've been trying to arrange a meeting with her but she keeps not being available and I can't go surprise her at the cemetery or I'll be violating her rule."

Yara set down the shirt she'd been mending. "I worry about them angering her, too. We know they didn't like her because she survived the Harvest, we know they were rude when she came back even after the Reaping was done. She stepped out because they were toxic and now she's shoved head first back in... they must think it's like having an outsider telling them what to do. Davina has publicly rejected so many traditions. They're going to try and turn her into a puppet and she's not going to listen, she will be stubborn and stick to what is right but with these conservative witches, that won't fly. Should we be looking for someone that we can ally with, someone on the inside we can use to check in on her? To make sure those Elders aren't manipulating her?"

He shook his head. "I don't know. All the witches I used to know there are gone. The ones I had an agreement with have left or were killed at some point in the last year and a half. You charmed Josephine up real good but Davina will hear us trying to counsel her and will reject it 'cause to her it'll be like parents commanding their kid. Everyone else is too stuck in old ways or just not interested in making alliances."

Klaus's solution, when they approached him for advice, was simple: kill all the witches except for Davina. It wasn't like they needed them anyway.

"We can't do that," whispered Yara as he walked her down Bourbon Street one night after an evening of dancing by the docks, just the two of them. "Eliminating an entire community because they're icing us out... perhaps we'd all be happier but it isn't going to bring anyone true peace."

"That peace was abandoned the moment Josephine was killed. You bargained with the leaders, one of which is no longer present. The wolves still answer to us, as do the vampires. The witches are nonessential. We have Freya, Rebekah, and Kol, all able to perform magic whenever we need it. Davina can be free to do as she pleases when she's no longer in charge of a Coven. We don't need the witches."

Yara hesitated. "I don't know, it doesn't feel right."

"Nothing that we experience now will be as it was when we lived here before, Yara. With the wolves and vampires getting along, it is sufficient. The humans will do as they've always done; Camille gives them a good voice. The most problematic faction should be eliminated."

"And what does that teach our daughter? She is part witch, too. If she grows up and finds out that we just killed all the witches because they wouldn't bend the knee, what will she say?"

"That her parents did what needed to be done to prevent further bloodshed."

"By... initiating bloodshed? Annihilating an entire community?"

"She will understand what it means to be a leader, to make difficult decisions. The witches have done nothing but cause us problems. There was one sweet moment when Josephine was Regent and that is no more. If you cannot control Davina, then we cannot control the witches. And they will need to be eliminated. Either find a way to get the witches back into an alliance where they will serve this family as we see fit, or there will be no more witches left in New Orleans."

"This isn't how peace works, Klaus, you don't take out everyone you don't like in masses. You replace leaders, you offer benefits. Perhaps if they saw us trying to appease to them, if they saw we don't control Davina– because that might be exactly why they're pressuring her into these things, they might be accusing her of being a sympathizer and in trying to prove them wrong, to fit a certain image, it's being made worse– they might be willing to open negotiations."

"There are times when this city needs a benevolent ruler, Yara. You were our voice when there was a bigger threat on the horizon and you were able to bend Josephine to our cause. Now, there are no threats we all need to unite against. Rather, the threat may come from within. First the witches ban wolves and vampires from where they gather, next they launch and attack. The New Orleans Covens are selfish. They will do whatever it takes to be in power out of greed. We are their threat, and if we do not silence them, they will respond. Either you manage to make them bend the knee, or I will enact my plan and ensure there are no witches left to challenge us."

Yara might have benefitted from asking Elijah for advice. It wasn't that she didn't want him involved, she was just worried that Klaus would react poorly to her involving him. Not to mention he seemed so happy as of late, having helped Marcel establish a fight gym for supernaturals in St. Anne's where he and Yara took turns giving lessons. She could see the way Elijah spoke to his now-girlfriend Gia, the smiles that were on his face when he came home. Cami had helped him work through the remnants of Esther's torture, and this was how he was choosing to keep himself healthy. Yara might only make it worse by involving him in a potential witch genocide.

She hated the idea of it.

"You're not supposed to be here."

She turned toward Davina, having been waiting between rows of tombs. "I know," she said calmly. "But it has become quite difficult to schedule a meeting with you."

"I have a million things to do," said Davina, walking past her and heading toward the Lycée. "I'm trying to prepare for our Fête de Cadeau."

"I've participated in that, I can help you–"

"Look, Yara." Davina turned on her heel. "I will work out an agreement with the other supernatural leaders eventually. But right now, I'm trying to fix everything that Josephine left in ruins. There were a thousand problems between all Nine Covens and I'm trying to appease everyone, and I can't do that if I'm worrying about the vampires or werewolves, who, frankly, can handle themselves. No one in our community is going to harm anyone there and I expect the same from them. Banning you from our places of worship isn't to restrict you, it's to ensure we have the space we need to work out ourissues before we go and work on everyone else's. Now, please, go. I don't want anyone to see you here."

Yara had told Klaus about their conversation later that day, and he hadn't been pleased, but refrained from making any attacks when Yara pleaded that they give her time to get Fête de Cadeau over with. Klaus was growing more impatient by the day.

It was hard to tell what was bothering him lately. Yara thought he would have been pleased. Whenever they were together, his mood improved, and he always made sure to be sweet with Hope. Yet, outside of that, she couldn't help but notice a faraway look in his eyes. Each time she tried to ask him about it, he'd brush it aside. She wasn't sure if it had to do with Rebekah and Kol being gone, or maybe Elijah having a girlfriend and now spending less time with him. Freya, he was warming up to, but she spent almost all her nights in bars or clubs trying to enjoy her freedom.

Did he feel alone?

He wouldn't have admitted anything to her no matter how many times she nagged. And after his comment about the witches, Yara decided to stop nagging.

"You're back early from your walk," said Klaus, stacking his paintings on the wall closest to the staircase. "I wasn't expecting you until later."

"I would have stayed out longer, but look at this," said Yara, showing him a picture she'd taken at a crime scene. A man strung up in an alleyway, mouth cut with an eerie smile. "Drained of blood by a vampire. Cami was there, I guess Vincent Griffith is friends with the detective taking a lead on this case and they figured she could come up with a profile for the killer. Marcel insists it wasn't his men, I already spoke to Elijah, and I know the wolves don't roam around here..."

He frowned. "And you thought it was me?"

"I didn't but I thought you'd know something about it. I... I noticed you've been withdrawn and I just... I couldn't deny the possibility when Cami asked..."

His jaw tightened. "I am not responsible for this."

"Good to know," she said quietly. "What are you doing with your paintings?"

At first, he didn't seem to want to answer, but he relaxed when he heard Hope gurgling in her stroller. "I spent the better part of a millennia trying not to draw my father's attention. And now he's dead, and all those who stood against me have been vanquished... I see no reason the fruits of my labor should go unappreciated. I'm hosting an art exhibition in the St. James Infirmary tonight."

"Oh, Klaus, that's wonderful!" Maybe that's why he's been acting strange, this is a big moment for him, he may be nervous about how people will react to it. "Do you think Hope and I could attend?"

He managed a smile. "I would like it very much if you did."

Yara dressed Hope in a flowery dress, herself in a similarly flowery shirt with some bell-bottom jeans and sandals. Klaus had gone ahead of them to set up the paintings. By the time she walked in, there were already people observing his work, many small clusters of what she imagined to be art scholars taking notes.

"Look at this," she whispered, coming next to Klaus and leaning onto his shoulder. "It all looks so wonderful and organized. Here, let me take a picture."

Klaus indulged her, taking Hope so the two of them could be photographed with the artwork and visitors in the background. Yara set the picture as her home screen, replacing an old photograph where it was just Hope by herself.

"Come, my darling, let's have your papa show us what he made," said Yara, leading the way while Hope toyed with Klaus's collar.

"Well, this one you'll recognize," said Klaus, gesturing at the first painting. "Your garden in Brazil. And here–" the one beside it, "the view of the sunrise from your rooftop. Your view of the meteor shower, and here..." he stopped in front of a painting of a woman facing away, holding a little girl to a telescope so she could see a bright star. "What I imagine for our future."

"It's beautiful," whispered Yara. She held his arm and tiptoed to kiss his cheek. "I love them all. You've made such marvelous works of art. I am proud to say my children's father is such an accomplished artist."

He smiled, but it faltered, eyeing a man in glasses who was accompanied by two women. "It's a derivative fiasco," he said, glaring distastefully at a painting Yara recognized, one made long ago by Klaus a gift to her. It depicted her wrapped in only a blanket and having her morning coffee at the edge of the bed, bathing in the first light of day. "Little atmosphere, less technique. It's nothing more than a self-congratulatory ego trip."

"I don't know what any of that even means," whispered Yara, annoyed. How could a painting of someone else be a self-congratulatory ego trip? Where did it lack an atmosphere? And his technique was at least consistent across all his paintings, it was original and people had paid a fortune for lines and dots that to Yara, meant nothing.

"I wouldn't expect you to host an art show without compelling the critics to speak your praise."

The new voice made her turn, arms not even extended to accept Hope and barely catching her as Klaus set her against Yara, grinning as he told the man, "And I wouldn't expect an uncultured savage to crash such a formal affair."

The unfamiliar man chuckled. "Yeah, not my usual scene. Though, that mouthy blood bag does have a point. Your work isderivative."

"Oh?"

"Of Degas, I'd say. Although, I happen to know that you compelled Degas to mentor you. I always thought his work improved after your influence."

Klaus gestured toward him as if he'd said something brilliant. "Finally! Someone with an eye for art!"

"Well," said the man, bearing a smile of perfectly white and even teeth, "live long enough and you develop a taste for it... among other things. Speaking of which, can we please have a drink? I am quite parched."

Klaus put an arm around him, laughing joyfully and leading him to the bar as Yara followed skeptically. "Three bourbon, two neat and one on the rocks," said Klaus cheerfully to the bartender. "Yara, love, this is Lucien. Lucien, this is–"

"Of course," said Lucien, taking her hand and kissing it. "Everyone knows you. The mother of Nik's children, the girl who went from slave to slayer, The Conqueror's Nightmare, The Lone Wolf. Miss Yara Lopes. My, have I been looking forward to meeting you."

"Nice to meet you, too," said Yara, having been told about Lucien. It was odd to her that Klaus was so chipper; from her understanding they hadn't parted ways in a pleasant manner. And she doubted either of them was letting bygones be bygones (though she did know Lucien hadn't exactly done anything that Klaus needed to forgive, perhaps that's why he was being kind? And perhaps Lucien was trying to turn over a new leaf?).

No, if he's here, he wants something. It wouldn't be money or resources, no, he certainly wishes for Klaus's help in some conflict. The kind of manpower only the Mikaelsons can provide.

"I ought to give you both some time on your own," said Yara, patting Klaus's shoulder. "Let me know if you need anything. Goodnight, Lucien."

He wiggled his fingers at her, taking the bourbon on the rocks she was meant to drink and sliding it toward Klaus.

She had in mind to see what she could dig up about Lucien; perhaps someone in her contacts knew what he was up to nowadays. But that was difficult to do with Marcel spamming her phone and begging that she call him.

"Are you okay?" she asked, alarmed. "What's wrong, my love?"

"It's Davina," he said. "She– she snapped."

"Oh no. What the hell did she do?"

"Some witch humiliated her. Tried to ruin her hands, leave her unable to do magic. She came to the attic to think and I found her and I gave her some advice, I said– god, I shouldn't have opened my mouth– I told her that's why I was so hard on them, I told her that she needed to respond with a show of force."

"No. No, no, no, what did she do with that advice?!"

"She killed the witch. And a bunch of others in the 9th Ward. I don't know what the hell she did but it seems like the target was this one witch and it got out of control and others got hurt. No one knows it was her but it... it's not gonna stay hidden for long. I think she shocked herself. I-I suggested a sign of force against the one witch, not a massacre. When I tried to help her afterward, she pushed me away."

"So what the hell do we do? Do we frame someone else for this or... god, we need to get her out of there. We should have pushed harder to teach her how to be a leader, we should make her step down–"

"No, that will be like an admission of guilt! I tried, she won't come willingly, she insists she can handle it on her own. I'm gonna talk to Vincent. I'm gonna see what he can do. Just... stay tuned, please. And if you see her... check on her."

"I will." When he hung up, she let out a shaky sigh, looking down at Hope, who was entertained with sucking her own fingers. She thought she could exhale and start figuring out what their next step was, but the following call arrived from Hayley, apparently also urgent.

"Hey, Yara," said Hayley, voice strained. "Listen, I don't want to inconvenience you but we need help. There's been a bunch of poachers out in the Bayou that killed a few of our people. Some others are missing. I was hoping when you get a chance, you and Klaus could look into it? I have killed a few but they keep coming in independent teams, some idiots hired by a company called Kingmaker Land Development. You guys have more of an influence..."

Yara nodded, "Yes, of course, we'll look into it immediately. Is there anything you need me to send as soon as possible? More food, water, shelter, some weapons–?"

"No, we're okay for now, we've stopped everyone from spreading out. Ansel's going to keep a patrol running. Let me know what you find out, thank you."

"Of course." This time, she got right to her laptop before anyone else could call.

She was munching on some trail mix and watching Hope practice rolling again as she took notes on her search.

Lucien Castle was the apparent CEO of Kingmaker Land Development. Some big philanthropist and an all-around narcissist if one could judge from the TED talks he gave. The few sirelings who were very in-the-know clued her into what Lucien had been up to lately: trying to diffuse the tension between the sirelings as a conflict continued to mount due to rumors of another piece of white oak that the Mikaelson were not in control of.

Klaus confirmed this when he came back fuming.

"Yes, yes, that's precisely what he told me," he said hotly as he stared at Yara's notebook. "Along with some rubbish about a bloody prophecy that foretells the fall of this family within a year's time. And that smile carved on the man you showed me earlier– I recognized it, I knew of it, it is the same smile that was carved onto Lucien's face by Tristan de Martel, the injury that allowed us to learn that vampire blood could cure, the incident leading up to Lucien's death that led him to be the first vampire after us, my first sireling. Whatever this conflict is, it has become great enough for him to become personally concerned with ensuring my safety. But I don't need anyone, and I don't–"

"Wait," urged Yara. "Surely there is something more you can learn from Lucien–?"

He waved his hand dismissively. "Yes, Elijah is already questioning him. And Freya is preparing a spell as we speak to see if there is any truth to be found in this wretched prophecy."

She hesitated. "How... how bad could this be? Is this a potential war that's about to break out? Vampires fighting to get the white oak and genuinely trying to kill the other Originals, or is it all rumor right now, is everyone just unsure and afraid?"

"It's likely nothing. This prophecy is more likely than not a farce manufactured by Lucien to hide these murders and the poaching in the Bayou. I will put a stop to it, that I promise you, love. Whatever it is."

Something very real, apparently.

"Bleed into this bowl," said Freya, having Klaus bite into his hand and drain the blood over a mound of herbs. "If you fed on this prophetic witch, her blood is still in your system. If there's another weapon out there that can kill you, we need to know."

"Should we destroy the white oak we do have?" whispered Yara. "If it's even possible?"

Freya made a 'so-so' motion with her hand, "I am inclined to say yes, but if it turns out there is more white oak... we will need it to find any remaining pieces."

She lit a tall black candle, surrounding it by smaller white candles over pieces of parchment with Norse runes listing her siblings names. As soon as Klaus was done, she dipped her fingers in and chanted, "No mentre le prophecie que la otra ve. No mentre le prophecie que la otra ve..."

Elijah furrowed his brows when Freya started to bleed from her ears. Yara squeaked in alarm as the house started to shake, covering Hope's head and turning her away as Freya's voice became strained, teh chanting persisting as if by force.

"Freya, stop!" demanded Elijah. He and Klaus reached out to grab her, which caused her to gasp loudly, the three pieces bearing their names and Rebekah's igniting.

Freya trembled. "It's true. You have a terrible shadow over you. Rebekah, too. If this prophecy is fulfilled, you will allfall... One by friend, one by foe, and one... by family."

In a frenzy, she swept the ingredients off the table, setting down a map of the world. "Klaus, bring the white oak stake."

He was back in a second, offering it to her. She dipped it in the same mixture of blood and herbs, wiping the blood off her own ears and letting the stake drip the blood over the map, chanting, "Encon trapiez sequitir, encon trapiez sequitir–" she ripped the map away when the blood traveled over the United States, right where Louisiana was. "Again–" this time, she laid out a map of New Orleans and repeated the process, "Encon trapiez sequitir, encon trapiez sequitir– No! It says the same thing. Of course it's in New Orleans, this stake is right here. The other piece might be cloaked, it might already be in the hand of an enemy..."

The two brothers shared a look. "Given the circumstance," said Klaus, "Lucien qualifies as both friend and foe, and according to Freya's prophecy–"

Elijah cut him off, "You are to beware both friend and foe. But, let us not forget family, Niklaus."

"Lucien's two out of three– I say we put him down. Just like old times."

"Just like old times? Brother, I wonder who among our family do you suppose has the greatest predilection for betrayal?"

Klaus was growing frustrated. "Brother, please–"

"Now, before we murder Lucien, there are certain questions that need to be answered. Chiefly, what is he doing here? What business does he have committing murders in the Quarter and most of all what business does he have with the Crescent Werewolves?"

"Go and see him," said Freya. "Yara and I have work to do."

Yara wasn't sure what she meant, but nodded. "Yes, whatever needs to be done to prepare–"

"Your blood."

"My blood?"

"You don't know anything about the man that turned you aside from his name. We could take blood from both my brothers, see which of theirs has a magical signature most matched to yours. If it is neither, or if it is one..."

Yara understood. "You want to find out who sired me." She hesitated, seeing that Klaus's eyes had darkened. "I've... I've never really cared to know. I shouldn't know... I don't want to inherently protect one more than the other because my instincts tell me to. I want them all to be safe. It... it doesn't matter to me. But if you think I should..."

"No, you're very right," said Klaus. "It doesn't matter. We won't let this escalate and none of us will fall."

They all wanted to believe that.