YM

New Orleans had a way of making you feel like the city was watching you. Music spilled from the streets. The night air was thick and warm, and every person you passed seemed to be hiding something. You pulled your jacket closer around yourself as you walked through the French Quarter. You hadn’t come here for the music. Or the drinks. You came because of a name. A name connected to your family. A name connected to the wolves. And you had a feeling that if you stayed in New Orleans long enough, you were finally going to discover who you really were. What you didn’t expect was to find yourself standing in an old church surrounded by witches. A woman stepped forward. Her eyes narrowed as she looked at you. “You’re finally here.” You froze. “Do I know you?” Before she could answer, a familiar voice came from behind you. “Oh, this should be interesting.” Your entire body stiffened. You slowly turned around. Klaus Mikaelson. He leaned casually against the doorway, looking far too amused for someone who had just appeared out of nowhere. And beside him— Elijah. His eyes immediately landed on you. Something in his expression changed. Recognition. Confusion. Concern. “Who is she?” Elijah asked quietly. The witch looked between the three of you. Then she smiled. And suddenly, you had a terrible feeling about what she was going to say. “She’s carrying a child.” Silence. Klaus laughed. Once. “That’s impossible.” The witch looked directly at him. “No, Niklaus.” Her smile widened. “That child is yours.” Klaus’s expression completely disappeared. Elijah slowly turned toward his brother. And you? You stared at the witch in horror. “WHAT?”