November 3, 1835

Marcel was starting to lose it.

Yara hated seeing him stressed. Lately, it was all he seemed to feel, no matter what she did. And as a grown man, he was less in the habit of listening to her advice to calm himself down.

He'd recently turned twenty-five. Yara had baked another marvelous cake and bought him new shoes to go with a new suit she'd made by hand for him. She looked as youthful as she had when they first met. He, on the other hand, had grown into a young man, as tall as she predicted he'd be.

Time had flown. A minute ago, he'd been a twelve-year-old with a broken arm she nursed back to health. A minute ago, he'd been thirteen and still crawling into her bed during storms, wanting to be held.

It hadn't been that long since he first began to learn languages, and now he was fluent in French, Italian, Spanish, and German. It felt like it was just yesterday when she, Klaus, and Marcel took their first walk through the city, and she'd introduced Marcel as her son when a shopkeeper had asked who they were.

More recently, he'd finally turned nineteen and learned all about her past and the awful things she'd done to survive. He'd decided that day he most definitely did want to become a vampire. Since then, he'd talked their ears off about turning. Klaus insisted he would turn him when he was ready. Marcel hated hearing the words 'not yet.'

He knew Yara would never turn him. She couldn't bring herself to cause him any harm. Though he knew she was more than capable of violence (some of which he'd witnessed when she and Klaus had freed every last slave in the state), she refused to be the one to snap his neck and make him a vampire. Elijah would not comply, neither would Rebekah. Everyone knew it was Klaus's choice alone. He had to decide when Marcel was ready.

But the decision had not been made yet.

"Yara, please," begged Marcel as she washed some clothes in the fountain. "Please, convince him that I'm ready."

"You know as well as I do that nothing will convince him if he does not already believe you are prepared for this," said Yara pointedly. "I know you want to be one very badly, my little prince, but–"

"I'm not a little boy anymore. I'm a grown man. I've done everything that was asked of me, I excelled in all my lessons, I have remained cordial and good and I've continued to listen to what you all tell me, but I'm twenty-five, I don't know what more I can do before he sees that I wish to be a vampire like the rest of you!"

"Marcel, I am sorry," she sighed. "Klaus needs to be the one to make the decision. And you know how he gets when anyone tries to push him in a direction he doesn't want to take."

"But he listens to you more than anybody!"

"And I've spoken to him about it in the past and even then he has not changed his mind. You know I want you to be happy, and I want what is best for you, but... this one is up to him. I didn't turn until I was twenty-six. Maybe that's what he's waiting for. He wants to make sure you are as mature as he wants you to be when you get locked in place. We cease to age when we turn, and some part of our growth is stunted. Better you are fully-developed mentally."

"You had a very specific reason for turning at twenty-six," argued Marcel. "It can't be compared."

She faltered, eyes dropping sadly. "I know, Marcel. He wants your experience to be better than what we had. Murder and suicide are no way to be turned."

"Marcel."

He straightened up as Klaus walked in. "Let her be," urged Klaus. "We will speak of this another time."

Yara hummed to herself as Marcel left. Klaus sat himself at the edge of the fountain, watching her hands moving over the clothes. "Why do you insist on doing your own chores? Fifteen years you've lived in this house and you refuse to let the maids do anything for you. They are paid handsomely for such simple tasks."

"I can do it all by myself," she insisted. "I don't wish to burden them."

He lowered his voice. "I caught them again. Marcel and Rebekah, when fencing. They fancy each other."

"We knew it might happen," she said with a shrug. "His crush stopped when he was eleven. He fancied many of the girls in town, and only recently began to like Rebekah again now that her presence in the Compound has become more pronounced. Marcel is grown up, he's matured and he no longer sees her the way he did when he was a boy. Your sister never even felt any particular way for him until now. Perhaps letting them be happy is best. You know better than anyone that Marcel is a good man. He will not hurt her, and she will not hurt him. She has kept her distance these past years. These feelings they have are real. Perhaps scolding them is doing more harm than good. He's constantly agitated now."

He scowled. "I do not wish for them to be together. If she does not leave him alone, she'll find herself back in a box."

"Klaus..."

"That is final, Yara."

Even in the past fourteen years, he hadn't changed his mind. Nor had he said anything else about what was on his mind. Ever since he barked the order that Yara ought not be spending much time with Elijah (especially not alone), he'd ceased with his complete invasion of her personal space. He opened up, but everything felt different. Perhaps she'd been foolish to think that at one point, he'd been flirting with her. Interested in her. She made no comment about it, and neither did he.

In recent years, she'd had a few male and female friends to occupy her time with. It was different now that Marcel wasn't attending lessons, now that he wasn't a little boy. She had more free time and freedom, in general. Klaus never allowed her to bring anyone home, not that she wished to. But he never exactly spoke up against it. She figured that whatever affection he had seemingly felt for her had since passed. Now, all he could focus on was Rebekah and Marcel, who he wanted to keep apart as long as possible.

She'd made the mistake once of asking what Finn was like. He'd told her that if she ever dared to undagger Finn, he'd punish her for it. She never brought it up again. She never even went to the room where the coffins were kept, as she did not care for Kol.

Still, she did not like the idea of daggering. And she feared what would happen if Rebekah didn't listen.

Rebekah was just as stubborn as Marcel. She'd returned from a shopping trip one day to find the house was eerily quiet. She couldn't find Rebekah anywhere.

And then, Marcel had come to find her. Everything about him was different. She knew, in that moment, what had happened, even before he told her of the choice he made. A choice that landed Rebekah in a box.

She fussed over him for the first several months, teaching him everything she knew about being a vampire. Klaus seemed more pleased now that he was one, though he didn't want to admit that he might have waited too long to allow it. There was no more need to keep bloodshed out of the house, though Yara did ask them to keep it to a minimum, out of respect for the servants that had to clean up their messes. He promised her he'd clean up after himself. He never was a messy feeder like Klaus.

The Compound was different without Rebekah. It was much quieter, much more boring. Yara had long since stopped accepting payment from the Mikaelsons for Marcel's care, as he was already far older and no longer in need of her lessons. She got herself a job making dresses, having outgrown her desire to be a governess. It held no meaning now that she'd practically raised Marcel as her son. Being a mother went beyond being a teacher.

For a time, she was happy making dresses. She missed Rebekah, and she still didn't interact much with Elijah, but Marcel and Klaus managed to keep her busy whenever they remembered she existed. Marcel loved telling her all about the things he could now do as a vampire, including all the adventures he went on. Klaus ranted about all his feelings regarding his siblings (there were many feelings to go through) and Marcel's progress as a vampire.

Ever so often, she swore Klaus wanted to tell her something. He'd start an abnormally deep conversation and end it abruptly by claiming he was tired. Other times, he'd tease her and say that vampires never grew tired. Over and over again he seemed ready to make a point that never arrived. Yara thought it wrong to pry. Perhaps he was figuring out how best to tell her that it was time for her to leave. Perhaps he'd changed her mind about having her there permanently.

Still, he attached himself to her. If she went shopping, he trailed behind. She had to beg him not to follow when she went to meet her evening companions. He liked to bother her, liked to talk to her, liked to sit and read while she did some other task. She surmised he felt lonely without Rebekah and simply refused to admit it. Elijah had a different theory, one he would have voiced if Klaus allowed him to be in a room alone with Yara. Somehow, each time Elijah and Yara had a moment to themselves, Klaus or Marcel appeared to interrupt.

It was in 1857 that Yara realized what had changed, not only with Klaus, but with herself. She'd heard of a vampire huntress that had been taking lives left and right, originating in Saint Malo, Louisiana. Upon further research, she learned the girl was named Rayna Cruz, and that a vampire had compelled her to kill her father. She was armed with a sword that had a strange red gem. A scratch marked vampires over their hearts, and a stab effectively removed their souls from their bodies.

"Perhaps something can be done," thought Yara when news of Rayna's presence was heard of in Chalmette. "She's a girl that suffered a terrible ordeal. Perhaps if we could show her kindness–"

"The girl needs to be killed," Klaus insisted. "She is bloodthirsty. Best make quick work of her to prevent any more vampires from suffering her wrath. Some of our vampire lieutenants are not as strong as you and I. We must destroy her before she attempts to devastate this family. Perhaps she believes she is capable of taking an Original's soul into that stone. If she were to enter this home and find Finn, Kol, and Rebekah defenseless, if she were to find Marcel... he is still quite young, she could kill him."

"But–"

"Do not argue, Yara. Do not attempt to talk to this woman, she will not listen to you. I am aware you believe mothering every lost child you find will heal the world but this one in particular is cursed. She is different. Something about her, from what I hear, is not right. She has no sympathy for any vampire. Knowing you will not change her."

"But–"

He'd cupped her face, squeezing her cheeks to keep her from being able to talk. It was the first time in decades that Klaus had gotten so close to her. The first time he'd touched her in such a way. "Love, if you will not listen, I will compel you to remain here while I take care of her. I will not risk her harming you or our son."

She relented when he ordered his best men to pursue Rayna and kill her, asking them to bring back her Phoenix Sword as proof that she was gone.

Her decision changed when their heads rolled down the steps of St. Anne's Church, a warning from Rayna that she would destroy any vampire they sent her way. Fearing for Marcel's safety, Yara took two swords from the Mikaelson armory and went after her.

Klaus found her battling with Rayna, far stronger than the huntress could hope to be. He'd never realized Yara was so good at sword fighting, given she'd never participated in Marcel's fencing lessons. He'd underestimated how much she'd learned in the years before she arrived to New Orleans.

"There," she said, slicing both swords across Rayna's throat and cutting her head clean off. "She's gone." The Phoenix Sword clattered to the floor. Yara knelt down to get it, handing it to Klaus. "Hang it up in your study."

He didn't take it. "I think that particular sword ought to be hung in your room. You are the one who bested her, after all."

She smiled. "Well, it's my gift to you if you bury her for me. I am quite tired."

"You'd make me get rid of her myself?"

"Or you could accompany me and do the digging. I don't fancy doing it alone."

Klaus smirked. "That, I could do."

They learned that day that Rayna would not stay dead. Klaus had just finished kicking her body and severed head into the hole he made when she burst into flames, a column of smoke rising and causing him to step away from the grave.

Without the Phoenix Sword, it seemed Rayna was useless. Yara took great pleasure in killing her a different way each time. The second time, she removed her heart. Third, she dismembered her. Fourth, she broke her neck. Fifth, she disemboweled her. She let Klaus kill her the sixth time, draining her completely of blood. She got the seventh kill, which was squeezing her neck until her head popped off. Klaus got the eighth and final one, throwing her off the top of one of the tallest trees in the forest and waving at her on the way down before she broke her neck.

"I think that was the most fun I have had in a very, very long time," sighed Yara when they'd confirmed Rayna wouldn't come back to life again. She had the Phoenix Sword strapped to her side, her clothes and face covered in blood. "I think you are right, I should put it up on my wall."

"Here, give me those." He took the other two swords she'd fetched from the armory, his hand brushing hers as he strapped them to his own pants in the meantime. He was just as bloody, the two in desperate need of a good bath but simultaneously looking like warriors emerged from a battle. "I wasn't aware you could fight so well."

"I haven't had to fight to save myself in this city," she said with a shrug. For some odd reason, it was difficult to speak, as if something was obstructing her throat. She'd never taken notice of how soft and fluffy Klaus's curls appeared to be. She'd never touched them. Why did she want to? Why did she care?

"You're staring, love," he noted, as if he had not been staring at her the entire time they'd been together, never having realized how much he liked the sight of her covered in blood that was not hers, seeing her being violent and primal and just like him.

She came to speak to him once they'd bathed. "I didn't realize killing could be so fun. I always had to kill to survive, or to help others survive. I suppose in a way we did that today. But doing it over and over again was oddly appealing."

He leaned back in his library chair. "You never allowed yourself to have fun in the past. Perhaps, now that Marcel is grown, you ought to begin letting loose."

"I let loose... enough."

His expression darkened. "Your late night companions are not sufficient. You know what I mean."

She noted the change in his attitude. "Does it anger you?"

"What?"

"That I have late night companions. You say it with such venom."

"I don't care."

"You seem to."

"I assure you, I don't. I simply don't understand how you can derive pleasure from those mere humans."

"They are still fun, even if they are not vampires."

"They won't satisfy you. It's why you keep needing to be with different ones. They don't keep you happy for very long."

She tilted her head, and stopped in front of him. "What does that mean?"

He seemed to stare into her soul. "You need someone who will satisfy you for a long time."

"Another vampire?"

"Someone who knows you, who knows what you want."

"And who would that be?"

Please say it's you.

A millisecond later, she wondered why she wanted him to say it. A minute after that, when he stood and reached out to cup her chin, she knew why.

I desire Klaus.

She should have realized it sooner. She should have known she would wind up feeling this way a long time ago. They'd raised Marcel together. Spoken to one another practically every day since they met. Klaus hadn't wanted Kol bothering her, he hadn't wanted Elijah to be anywhere alone with her. He wanted her. He'd wanted her for so long that no one else had made sense to him for years, even when opportunities had arisen. And like a fool, she hadn't realized she wanted him, too. Not the men and women she took to her bed, who would never bring her the amount of laughter that Klaus often did, cracking one random joke after another just to see her smile. A man she trusted and valued, who showed all the good in him when they were caring for their child. Theirs.

"Are you implying what I think you're implying?" she whispered when he didn't answer. "Please, just tell me honestly..."

Instead of saying anything, he kissed her.

The last thing Yara wanted was to leave Marcel feeling uncomfortable or traumatized. He hadn't been home, but she opted to take no risks. She had dragged Klaus to an apartment she kept for her nightly meetings, pulling him inside and pushing him onto her bed, crawling over him and pinning him down by the shoulders as she kissed his neck, biting in and beginning to feed.

When he'd had enough, he flipped them around, trapping her beneath him so that he could take his turn to feed on her, teeth latching on right under her breast, where her heart beat furiously.

"Tell me the truth," she pleaded as he snapped his hips against hers, giving her a sensation she didn't know could exist. She'd never slept with another vampire, especially not one so much stronger than her. "How long have you been wanting to do this?"

"From the moment I saw you being so motherly," he replied, holding her throat to keep her looking at him, eyes locked together. "I couldn't explain it, all I knew was that seeing you with Marcel made me realize I desired you. All I wanted was to make you mine, to ensure no one else could have you. I wanted to keep you forever."

"That's the day you told me I could stay," she replied, one of her legs wrapping around his waist to pull him further down. "You could have told me."

"It was too soon after Kol. I feared overwhelming you."

"You could have told me when you forbade me from speaking alone with Elijah."

"You are stubborn, you would have gone to him to spite me."

"I wouldn't!"

He smirked. "It does not matter. You are mine, not theirs. And you will always be mine. If I could, I'd give you more children, just to see you with them the way you were with Marcel."

"Look at that," she teased, digging her nails into his arm. "It seems you enjoyed being a father after all."

"Only because you were the mother. Now, shut up, love, or I will put your mouth to better use."

Marcel suspected nothing when they returned hours later. He figured it had taken much longer to kill Rayna. Yara didn't know how to tell him that she and Klaus were together. She didn't even know how Elijah would react, and she certainly didn't feel comfortable telling him. Marcel's thoughts on the matter worried her more.

The two thought they knew how to sneak around, but they were idiots to believe it. Marcel and Elijah were many things, each oblivious to many aspects of life, but they were not blind. Anyone with eyes and half a brain could tell that something was different between Yara and Klaus. Different and intimate. They simply chose not to make comments.

Rebekah was the one who outed them in 1887 after Klaus finally saw fit to undagger her. She, unlike Elijah and Marcel, had no fear of bringing it up at dinner.

"How long have you both been sleeping together?" inquired Rebekah flatly when Yara giggled after Klaus handed her the wrong bottle of wine.

There was a deadly silence across the table.

"Oh, little sister," said Klaus dryly. "You have perfectly horrendous timing."

"Don't treat me like a child, Nik. How long have you two been together?"

"Thirty years," muttered Yara honestly, figuring there was no sense in hiding it.

Elijah and Marcel shared a look across the table. "You two knew, and no one said anything?" asked Rebekah incredulously. "You are all idiots. Idiots."

She got over it within a year. Yara and Klaus stopped sneaking away and instead, Klaus had a witch spell their rooms to ensure their time together reached no one's ears. Marcel would not admit it, but Elijah and Rebekah both knew that he was happy knowing that the two vampires who raised him, his parents even though he called them by their names, were together.

The elder Original had no reason to object. One night in 1891, a neighbor had been coughing all night with pneumonia. Klaus had snarled all sorts of threats in his irritation, deciding he would turn the woman and her daughter, then force the girl to watch as he burned the coughing mother alive. One look at Yara and he'd shut up.

She had taken matters into her own hands, spending three days at the woman's side, tending to her and healing her until at last, the woman defeated her illness. She gave the daughter some of her own money to allow her to afford better medicine for the next time either of them grew ill.

Elijah had never seen Klaus look as mortified as he did when Yara returned to the Compound after those three days and announced that she'd taken care of the problem without forcing a child to endure the loss she'd had to.

"Love," said Klaus in a pained voice when he realized (like a fool, too late) why she was so upset. "I was angry."

"And you should know how awful I find it that any child should ever have to witness losing their parent," she retorted angrily. "In fact, even if the girl next door is not quite a child, I still cannot fathom how anyone could think it reasonable to cause her to suffer a loss like that for something so small. She did nothing to deserve it, neither did her mother. I understand you grow angry easily, especially with those who are not family, but you must think before you act. I have never tried to stop you from killing unless it harmed Marcel. You know that. But I draw the line when it comes to hurting children. It has always been my rule, you do not harm children. The girl is still young, she needs her mother, and it is not the woman's fault she became sick. You have blood that can heal, you could have gone and healed her to shut her up instead of thinking to burn her alive for her daughter to see."

"Love, I–"

"Save it. I don't want you in my bed until you can muster up a genuine apology."

Klaus was just as stubborn as her. He sulked for five years while she punished him for not having thought before he spoke. At last, he couldn't stand it. He asked for her forgiveness in the best way he could, pleading for her to cease her torment of him. She finally relented, threatening him by saying that if she ever found out he forced a child to watch their parent die, she would leave him for good, consequences be damned.

Caught in a streak of being merciful to appease her, Klaus had undaggered Kol in 1901, though he warned him to leave Marcel and Yara alone, or he'd suffer again. Kol did not dare speak to Yara in any flirtatious manner once he learned that she and Klaus were an item. Then again, he made no real attempt to speak to her even in a normal way. Yara still didn't like him after what he'd put Marcel through. And she never would. (Or so she swore.)

As Yara's 400th birthday came and went, she found herself thinking that she had at last found her peace, and the place she was meant to be. At that point, she had lived with the Mikaelsons for eighty-one years. Marcel was much older, much wiser, but still loved being doted on by his mother and father (whenever he wasn't sour about one of Klaus's many questionable decisions or comments).

But she ought to have known it was too good to be true.