The second year had been better than the first.

They had tried to make the most of it. They learned to cook. Learned to drive a train. Learned to fly a plane. They'd gone ziplining without their straps fully adjusted. They'd trashed any place that simply didn't look nice, and had lived in gorgeous homes they found wherever they traveled. Some places, they stayed in for weeks. Others, for less than a day. They were making their way mostly down the West Coast, because Kai claimed that maybe if there were sea creatures, they could die for real.

Of course, there hadn't been any sea creatures. Or any animals or insects at all. Beatrix was thankful for the lack of maggots and flies and mosquitoes. But she missed the presence of a dog or a cat or even an alpaca, from her time in Peru.

As they moved around, exploring places with the weirdest names and marking down towns they'd planned to pass through off their 'bucket list,' Beatrix had told Kai about her travels. In fact, they'd bonded over the fact that anytime they settled down somewhere for more than a month, she could teach him spells from all over the world.

After leaving Louisiana, she had gone to Europe. Stowed away in a ship, concealed inside some containers that would likely not be checked, considering how terrible they smelled, and how gooey the substance was. Beatrix wasn't sure if it had been a chemical, but either way, she was immortal, and if the smell was toxic, it didn't matter. She slept often anyway. She wouldn't have noticed.

They had docked in Lisbon, Portugal, where she had used the cover of the night to slip away and go clean herself up. She had assaulted a woman despite knowing better, and stolen her clothes. She compelled the woman to forget she was a vampire, but to allow her to stay. When the sun had come up, she was hiding safely in the basement of the woman's house, which had a tunnel prepared for her escape if someone came looking.

No one did. Everyday, the woman cooked for her, and let her feed in the evenings. Beatrix did not leave the house except to bathe under the moonlight, and sometimes, feed on someone else. She always gave them her blood after, but prayed no one would kill them before the blood exited their system.

Many months passed that she was down there, terrified of what to do. As a siphon, she wasn't used to just spontaneously trying to do magic, therefore she didn't think to try it. She assumed the new surge of power she felt was from being a vampire.

It wasn't until one evening that she was nearly slaughtered by another vampire. The woman had come from behind and attacked her, plunging her hand into her chest and gripping her heart, ready to rip it out. Beatrix had seen her life flash before her eyes, and she had thrust her own hand out to grip the woman, trying to siphon out of habit.

It had worked.

The woman released her heart, let out a yelp, and sped away. Beatrix had struggled to catch her breath, but when she did, she realized that her siphoning was still intact. When she had returned to her current residence, she had attempted a few spells, and was shocked when she realized that the magic was flowing through her as naturally as it had with her mother and the witches who finished raising her.

Seeking to understand why she had managed to keep her magic, Beatrix left Lisbon, compelling a farmer on his way to Merida, Spain, to take her with him. Underneath his baskets of radishes and carrots, she'd been carried across into a new country, and had compelled another lonely woman to take her in. This time, she learned more. She met other vampires, and they spoke, teaching Beatrix that walking in daylight was possible but that the vampires needed a witch to help them with that. Beatrix had set to work, fabricating a daylight ring for herself. She briefly met with Spanish witches in Sevilla, then in Madrid, and finally in Zaragoza, before deciding to continue traveling, now with the identity of Ianira Soleil solidified.

With the help of other witches who she hid her vampire identity well from, Beatrix had arrived in Bordeaux, France, by 1710. There, she searched for members of the La Salle family. She found some in Bourges, though none seemed to vividly recall being descended from Robert Cavelier de La Salle. It wasn't until 1715 that she found a few families near Dijon, who had records that proved them to be her relatives. She did not reveal her identity to them, as she learned that Robert had died in 1687, when she was just three years old. There would likely be no record of her, and they would have thought her to be lying. What she did find of interest, was that the La Salle's shared ancestry with the Claire witches.

"Wait," Kai had said when she had told him. "Claire witches? You're a distant Claire witch?"

"Seems so," she had replied.

He had furrowed his brows in concentration. "We have the Ascendant," he mused, referring to the gadget they'd found before leaving Portland. "And we have figured out that a Bennett witch's blood will be necessary to get us out of here. Claires... Bennetts... sure you're not related?"

It had given both of them hope. But it'd been knocked astray when Beatrix shook her head. "No. Trust me, I tried to find out if I was."

Kai had not wanted to risk it. They were in San Diego when he had dragged her out to the beach, insisting they try to use the ascendant and harness the eclipse's power from an open area above the sand. Hands linked, they had chanted, Sangina Mearma, Ascendarum Cavea.

No luck. They had tried again the next day, this time spilling almost an entire artery full of Beatrix's blood on the ascendant, and they had started the spell at the apex of the eclipse. Sangina Mearma, Ascendarum Cavea. Over and over again.

No avail. Kai had been angry. He had trashed a nearby bike shop, ripping things off the walls, throwing tools around. Beatrix had cleared it up with a small wave of her hand.

Up until 1815, Beatrix had devoted her life to traveling and learning, wanting to strengthen herself as much as she could. She had been to Germany, England, Romania, Switzerland, and Ukraine, moving constantly and hiding, as witches were still not quite respected, and had to be in secret. She picked up what she could, never telling any her secret, though she supposed some had figured it out on their own, but been kind enough not to tell.

When she had left Europe in around 1740, she moved into Asia through Russia, spending a few years living in Moscow, and eventually meeting Elizabeth Romanov, Empress from 1741 to 1762. When Beatrix left Russia and descended into Mongolia, and then China, she had found herself unwelcome, and had quickly left to Africa, where she took on the new name of Araminta Rodríguez. This journey proved to be the most educational.

She had learned more magic than she ever thought she could learn. She spent nearly two decades venturing through the continent and learning every form of magic that existed in that century. The witches there were not only accepting of siphoners, but they taught her to use her magic in ways that wouldn't drain her so easily. That was when she started her own grimoire, creating spells mostly based off what she learned in Ethiopia, but adding flairs of what she learned in Europe. She progressed rapidly through the spells and through the country, but somehow, something was missing.

There was only one woman who she told her secret to, in South Africa. The woman had theorized that perhaps her vampire nature was what held her back from using magic to its full potential, as she was technically not meant to exist in the form she was. Beatrix had considered it, and had left soon after to South America, keeping her same cover name as she planned making her way back up to Louisiana, all in due time. Though she did not spend as much time as she would have liked, she promised herself she would return soon, and explore the Yucatán Peninsula in detail.

In 1790, she returned to the United States, settling briefly in the West before going inland, having planned to stop by New Orleans, which had been dubbed so in 1718 when Klaus Mikaelson and his siblings had helped to build the city. She remained fairly hidden, not wanting to draw attention to her presence there. She only interacted with one couple, helping them deliver their daughter, Céleste Dubois. She yearned to stay in the city and enjoy it, but she soon heard of a witch massacre that occurred in Mystic Falls, Virginia. She left Louisiana immediately to go investigate, but found no evidence of what had actually happened. She remained there in mourning, praying for the souls of the witches to be put to peace.

In 1815, tired of not calling one singular place her home, she returned to New Orleans for good, planning to settle in, not expecting anyone to recognize her. Over a century had passed, and she doubted anyone had records of her anywhere. Unless an immortal being had known her in the past, there would be no way anyone would remember her.

"That's where you met the Mikaelsons," Kai had said when they'd passed through Texas, on their way to see New Orleans themselves. "Right?"

"You're so eager," she teased, nudging him as he drove. She wouldn't go as far as to say that they were friends, but at least they hadn't tried to murder each other. They both had tempers and no remorse when it came to committing murder. What's more, Kai gave Beatrix someone to talk to, and Beatrix gave Kai someone to listen to. If they worked together, they'd get out. Eventually. Maybe.

"Shut up, Trixie," Kai had said, elbowing her hard and swerving off the road as if threatening to crash the car again. But no, he wouldn't do that.

The second year's difficulties had lain in the fact that they weren't sure how much more they could handle. The first year all the denial had gotten them through sufficiently well. But now that they'd accepted the fact they were indeed stuck, and so far, none of their attempts had worked, there came agony.

It was more painful because they knew they couldn't really die. Perhaps it was better that they'd killed each other many times at the start to establish said fact early on. It would have hurt more if they tried to kill themselves to be rid of their anxiety and misery, only to find out they simply would not die. That definitely would have been worse.

They still slept by themselves, both of them not wanting the other to know how angry they were at this arrangement. Sharing such negative emotions was in neither's best interests because all it would lead to was broken furniture and blood and debris that would need to be cleaned up.

Neither would admit it so openly, but it was nice to go through it with another. To know that their suffering was shared. That their determination could be fused to find a solution. One day. But neither knew whether they'd lose their mind before that day came or not.

Bea frowned in Kai's direction. "I don't like being called Trixie. It's weird."

"Well, you need a nickname. It's been two years and all I ever call you is Beatrix or La Salle. Boring."

"All I ever call you is Kai."

He thought for a second, humming in tune with the gentle rumble of the car's engine, allowing the breeze to fill both their ears and allow them to just relax for a bit before he spoke up. "How about your nickname is Trixter. Like, a trickster, but instead of 'trick' it's 'Trix?'"

Beatrix winced but gave him a small grin. "Okay. I can tolerate that."

"You can call me CobraKai if you really want a nickname, though it's longer than my actual name."

"CobraKai... like the dojo in Karate Kid?"

"Yeah! You've watched it?"

"Darling, I've seen almost every movie ever made. I'm sure I've been a background character for many of them, too."

Kai stuck his tongue out. "Ew. You haven't called me 'darling' in awhile. You lost your streak."

"Pity, I wasn't even aware that I was on one. Why does it bother you so much?"

"That's what my mother called me before she stopped paying attention to me."

There was a beat of silence, and all Beatrix could do was sigh, leaning back in her seat.

"Are you ever going to tell me your real name?" Kai asked, sounding a tad impatient.

Beatrix smirked. "Oh, I don't know. Maybe you have to guess."

"Oh come on, I don't even remember what your mother's name was before she changed it to Soleil. I just remember it was long and complicated and foreign."

"Ixazaluoh."

Kai cringed. "Yeah, forget I asked. Oh look, we're out of Texas. Hello, Louisiana. What city- kidding, it's Shreveport. Ever been there?"

"Can't say I have, actually," Beatrix mumbled, laying her seat back and putting her feet on the dashboard. "To be honest, I haven't really gone anywhere in Louisiana outside New Orleans. The bayou, of course, but never into another major city."

"Let's not drive deep into the bayou, unless we want to ditch this car. I kinda like this one." For effect, he pet the steering wheel appreciatively.

"Me too. The seats are super comfortable. I could actually fall asleep here."

"No point doing that, we have trillions of houses at our disposal."

That comment brought back the memory of her home. They could probably go and see it now. The furniture would be different, she hadn't lived there since 1901, or maybe earlier. The majority of the time she lived in New Orleans, she had lived in the Mikaelson compound. Her room had been nearest to Kol's, but all the siblings visited her there constantly. As well as Marcel.

Marcel. She hadn't thought of him in so long. She supposed it pained her more to think of him, because he still knew she was alive, while the Mikaelsons all thought that she'd died in 1919. What was he doing at the moment? She had never arrived to meet him on Christmas, like she said she would. The French Quarter Coven had taken her, and next thing, she was in Portland.

"What are you thinking?"

Kai could be nosy in a way that suggested he didn't care, but it was obvious that he did worry about her going down a self-destructive spiral if he didn't check in on her every now and then. She tried to do the same to him, but he discussed his emotions far less. Not that he had many, aside from anger. He felt nothing. No real joy or guilty or sadness. Just pure anger that sometimes, he channeled in all the wrong ways.

"About my home," said Beatrix, not about to withhold any information from him. "About the people I left behind- one person, specifically, who I care a lot about."

"Your ex?"

"Bloody hell," she sighed, rubbing her forehead. "You are obsessed with finding out about my romantic and sexual past, aren't you?"

"Well, you always omit that! It'd be the closest thing I have to a television drama and you leave out the best parts."

"What do you even want to hear, Kai? Who I slept with in Romania? In Brazil? What does it matter? Over three hundred years, I have every right to have had flings and such. It's not supposed to be for your entertainment."

He smirked, apparently pleased he had hit some sort of nerve. "Well, who is it that you care a lot about? That you're thinking of?"

"His name is Marcel Gerard."

"And who is he? This is the first time you mention someone by name who isn't a Mikaelson."

"He is a Mikaelson, just not by birth."

"Well? What is he, then? What, is he the vampire that killed you and helped turn you in the first place? You two ended up becoming friends?"

There was a forlorn look in her eyes. Kai didn't know when to quit, and he nudged her, but Beatrix was silent.

Kai stopped bugging her, but clearly, was still itching to know more. "Are you going to tell me when we reach New Orleans?" he asked.

"Maybe. Now shut up."

"Only if it means you'll be quiet."

"Deal."

They were silent for the remaining four and a half hours it took for them to finally arrive in New Orleans. Beatrix only began to speak when it came time for her to give him directions on where to turn, how far to go down a street.

As night fell, they arrived at the Mikaelson Mansion. Kai parked the car in the driveway, and Beatrix reached back for her bags before going inside, sighing happily when she found the light switch was still where it had been before.

"Let me guess," Kai said in a bit of a snarky voice. "This is where you lost it to one of the Originals."

Immediately, the smile that'd been on Beatrix's face fell, and she had to force her fangs back, restraining from sinking them into his throat and just enjoying a silent night without him. "No. It isn't. This is where I met them formally. Gods- you're disgusting. Let me guess, you lost it in a parking lot and it was with the only girl or guy stupid enough to be vulnerable to you."

Kai's eyes darkened, and he looked more furious than she'd ever seen him in awhile. "I'd really hate to stain the floors with blood when we just walked in," he sneered, kicking aside the door before storming upstairs to find a room. Beatrix rolled her eyes and followed once she heard him close a door, going to set her bags in the room that had been Rebekah's, before returning downstairs and finding the refrigerator in the kitchen to be empty. She supposed the property hadn't been used in awhile. Marcel always did hate it, he must have shut it down.

"Well?"

The angry voice made her turn around. She crossed her arms, seeing Kai fidgeting with the Ascendant. "Is there anything to eat?"

"No," she said blandly. "We have to go out to get food."

He grunted, muttering under his breath how he'd driven for long enough already, and that he didn't want to go to sleep hungry.

"I was planning to go retrieve food by myself," said Beatrix coolly, storming out past him. He caught her arm, and she resisted the urge to throw him out the glass doors that were behind her.

"Why do you never tell me the things I actually want to know?" he said, squeezing her bicep as if intending to hurt her.

"Maybe because the most interesting things in my life are also the hardest to talk about," she hissed. "It's not all sunshine and rainbows because I'm a Heretic and because I befriended the most powerful vampires in the world. That's the problem of getting close with anyone. You get hurt when you lose them."

"They can't die! How the hell did you lose them? You're just being sensitive."

"Hey, dickwad, in case you forget, I'm going chronologically so you don't miss context and ask me a thousand questions once we get to the good part. I chose to talk to you, and you chose to listen, so just let me go at my own pace."

Kai released her, not even sure why he was angry in the first place. Perhaps it pissed him off that she could be so lively- at least lively enough to cook for the two of them every day and talk his ear off. She even talked in her sleep, but always in a language he didn't understand.

"Fine, just go." He stalked back upstairs. Beatrix rolled her eyes and left, returning within an hour with several groceries. She stocked the fridge and got to work making their meal- some chicken and salad, because she was too tired to put much effort into anything else.

He came down again when he smelled the food. Beatrix was already eating, but she had zoned out. He sat across from her, mumbling a half hearted 'thank you' before digging in.

Beatrix wasn't listening. She had paused eating, and was staring out of the glass door, to the dark backyard that wasn't visible to either of them. Words and chants and young laughter rang in her ear. She recalled the young boy who'd happily run through the doors to meet her when Elijah had brought her to stay with them. How he'd bowed respectfully, how he'd introduced himself, proud of the name his new guardian had given him.

Marcellus. He was so pleased to have a name and to have a home and a family, as dysfunctional as it was. He didn't necessarily know that yet, but he was pleased with them even when he found out.

Beatrix didn't realize she'd been crying until Kai waved his hand in front of her face. "Hello? What the hell are you doing?" he asked.

She quickly wiped her eyes, shaking her head. "Nothing. It's nothing. I'll cook something better tomorrow." She finished her plate wordlessly, ignoring Kai's stare. She hated how curious he could be, sometimes.

"Beatrix. Who's Marcellus?"

What use was there, denying him that knowledge?

She stood, setting her plate in the sink, not facing him as she gripped the edge of the counter. "Marcellus Gerard," she whispered. "He's my family. The only real family I have left. To him, I'm his older sister. I raised him. But..."

The laughter, the joy, the pain, every time Marcel had taken a fall, how she had nursed him, how she had been the gentle voice he had needed in comparison to Klaus, who just wanted him to be a man.

"He was like a son to me," she breathed at last.