Work Header

(finally) you and me are the lucky ones

Work Text:


Davina remembered when her mom explained what soulmates were.

Of Davina’s friends, Monique was the first to see the actual evidence. She was the oldest, so it made sense. She had just turned fifteen when it happened. Two crisp letters printed on her wrist, like the tattoo her mother would never let her get. They had spent too much time matching the initials to celebrities to think there was actually someone else in the world with Monique’s. The idea of someone predestined by fate for you to be with was heavy for anyone, so they chose not to think about it. Ryan Gosling was a candidate according to the initials pressed into Monique’s skin, so they watched The Notebook instead of thinking of life.

A reasonable decision.

But when Davina got home from her sleepover that night, her mom was already prepared to talk. Word got around covens fast.

“Davina, I think it’s time we had a chat,” was what Davina heard after walking into their apartment. Her mom didn’t chat much, so Davina felt compelled to listen. Soulmates weren’t exactly a secret seeing as everyone had one. Her mom’s story was less of a soulmate 101 than it was a story of Davina’s dad. A dad who walked out on them promptly after Davina was born. A husband who, according to Davina’s mom, did not match up with her initials.

The story was cautionary more than informative. The only thing Davina learned about her dad was that he was a mistake.

“Never fall for someone who isn’t your soulmate,” her mother had said firmly.

Davina vaguely remembered nodding, but it was early in the morning and she was being hit with more information than her mind was ready to process. She had already broken her promise, but she was too optimistic to think that way. Davina had fallen for her best friend Tim, whose initials (despite her best prayers to the ancestors) did not appear on her collarbone six days after her fifteenth birthday.

That would be the first of many times that the ancestors would let her down.

“K.M.,” she read in disappointment, having to read backwards in her bathroom mirror. Getting it had felt like a dull burn. It had woken her up, but it wasn’t painful.

Davina was supposed to be excited, but she had been hoping for another letter combination. Plenty of people who hadn’t found their soulmates had partners though. Davina knew plenty of parents who were happy and in love and not soulmates by definition.

For a while Davina could stay optimistic, but then the rest of her life began.

Davina couldn’t say when she first heard the term. The Harvest . But, she did remember murmurings about something big. At first, her mother hadn’t seemed thrilled (which for a zealous witch was concerning to Davina).

That was before her mom completely lost it.

A week before what Davina would come to know as the harvest, she suffered from the most immense pain she had ever felt. Davina thought she was dying for some rare disease that had absolutely no warning signs. She was at a coven meeting when she cried out, clawing at her neck. It felt like she being burned alive, like a million fire ants were chewing at her skin.

There had been a look of shame on her mother’s face at first, one that even Davina could see through her own pain. The shame morphed into despair when Davina accidentally ripped her shirt’s neckline in an effort to find relief.

When her mom saw Davina’s left collarbone she burst into tears. After what she had been through with Davina’s father, she was clinging onto daughter’s future happiness.

The blackened initials etched into Davina’s were gone. In their place was a raised white outline of what used to be, like a scar. Davina didn’t have to ask what that meant. It was at the end of every sad movie.

Whoever K.M. was had died. From what Davina had felt, not in any way pleasant.


Davina’s mother did not cry when she sacrificed her daughter to the ancestors.




After 1000 years, Kol Mikaelson was brought down by the Gilberts. It was so ridiculous, that even Kol laughed from beyond his grave. Ridiculous and incredulous maybe, but somehow true. A white oak to the heart and that was it.

Elena had caught the little initials on his neck when he jerked his head back in pain. Jeremy had just plunged the stake into his heart. Somehow in the panic, Elena gave herself the time to acknowledge the little letters.

All the other originals had white casts where their supposed soulmate marks once were. Centuries dead, Elena assumed. She hadn’t given thought to the possibility that Kol still had one, black as ink.

Poor soul , Elena thought, killing him’s a kindness .




Davina escaped the Harvest. Thanks to Marcel Gerard, who in three months had been more of a father figure than her genetic father had ever been.

He was dropping off a new sketchbook when Davina first noticed his own scar.

“Marcel,” she found herself calling, when he almost out of the door.

“D,” he called back, looking at her warily. Davina had been too invested in a spellbook to pay him much attention earlier. That was before a specific something caught her eye.

“When did she die?” Davina asked cautiously. Marcel was wearing a tee shirt, but the sleeves had ridden up. At first he looked confused, but then he followed her stare.

“I didn’t know her,” he said with a shrug, pulling down on the sleeve. “She died when I would’ve been old if it weren’t for the whole vampire thing.” He didn’t sound torn up about it.

Davina paused, in thought and in a momentary memoriam for whoever it had been.

“I never thought about that. You know, vampires and soulmates,” Davina mused aloud, “you’d outlive them.” Her spellbook was forgotten, closed on some channeling spell.

“Not always. I’ve known a handful of vampires who found a match after the length of even the healthiest human lifespan.”

“Were the matches vampires?” Davina asked. Marcel shook his head, and her eyes widened.  “So people are destined to be vampires?”

Marcel looked just a surprised as her.

“I guess so,” he finally said, after a moment of thought.

“I wonder how far fate thinks ahead,” Davina pondered, trying to wrap her mind around the implications of what she had learned. “A couple hundred years?”

“The Mikaelsons had a brother whose soulmate never died,” Marcel told her, at this point leaning against her doorway. At the name, Davina couldn’t help but shiver. Her run ins with the family hadn’t been pleasant.

“Aren’t they like a million years old?”

“A thousand,” Marcel corrected with a laugh, “but close.”

“Wow. Fate starts early.” Davina found it difficult to think weeks in advance, let alone centuries.

“Maybe, but that story proves that fate’s a bit of a bitch. That brother died earlier this year without ever figuring it out. What type of fate is that?” Marcel wasn’t really asking anyone, but Davina found herself pondering it.

Marcel didn’t let himself think too much of Kol, and thankfully he was staked most of the time when he had been alive, but he did find it ironic. Of anyone, Kol was the least likely to care about soulmates. Rebekah would’ve killed for one.

Marcel would’ve killed for Rebekah to be his, but that was ancient history.

“The worst kind of fate,” Davina breathed, pulling Marcel from his thoughts. There was a solemn tone attached her voice. It was quiet, but Marcel heard it. And from his expression, Davina could tell he was puzzled.

Due to habit, Davina usually had her scar covered up with either with her hair or a neckline. She had always assumed Marcel had noticed but never inquired. His expression tipped her off, and she smoothed her hair back to reveal the scar. Due to her lack of sunlight, her pallor set it off even more.

“It happened right before the harvest. I only had it for about a year,” she explained. “What type of fate is that?” He was silent for a moment.

“Well, you know D, I don’t think anyone-,” Marcel squinted to see the letters as he spoke, “-not even K.M. would’ve been good enough for you.” Davina smiled, but Marcel frowned when he realized what he had said. “I’m sorry, when did you say it happened?” he questioned, but Davina didn’t notice the shift in his tone. She was thinking about how strange the idea of fate was.

“A week before the Harvest,” she answered without much thought.

Marcel thought back to what Rebekah had said about Kol’s death. If his dates were correct, that landed it about a week before the Harvest as well. And he couldn't forget the eternal question of what D.C. stood for.

He looked at Davina, who looked lost in thought. That wasn't uncommon.

Marcel was too old to take coincidences as possibilities. Marcel was also too old not to.




A few months later, Davina sacrificed herself for the harvest to be completed. They promised she would wake up, but that hadn't happened yet. Marcel had been waiting with her body bag for days.

Over at the Mikaelson’s, another awakening was happening.

Rebekah had finally found a way to bring Kol back. Klaus and Elijah had been a bit preoccupied with the nonsense going on in the city, but they showed up all the same.

“You got extra blood bags right?” Rebekah pressed. She cast a glance towards their servants who she had compelled to leave early. Good help was hard to find and she didn't need Kol killing them.

It wasn’t the ideal situation, but they were in the french quarter not out on the outskirts of town. The witch she’d convinced to do the spell needed ancestral magic. Well, convince was a kinder word for threaten and then compulse, but it yielded the same result.

One second Kol was a pile of ashes and the next, flesh and bone.

The next few moments were a blur. Rebekah threw some clothes at him, he drank every bloodbag in the place, and he made nonchalant remarks about death while hugging his family. In the madness of their lives of New Orleans, it was a very good moment. Rebekah had been smiling ear to ear when she noticed his neck.

Kol had seen enough people looking at that one specific spot in his lifetime to know what she was looking at. He forgot about it most of time, but it always him a sort of hope. His siblings had no reason to live on, but by some twist of fate Kol had always meant to keep on living.

“What is it?” he asked, sobering up. Kol had been acting very Kol. For a resurrection, there hadn’t been much talk about the other side. It couldn’t have been pleasant, but Kol hinted at no anger. His earlier “well it took you long enough” sounded like someone who had been minorly inconvenienced. The lightness was familiar, but Kol also had a flair for the dramatic that hadn’t shown up yet.

Rebekah couldn’t speak. From what she saw yes, but also what that could’ve meant. Marcel had told her about Davina’s soulmate marks and she thought it had been a silly connection, but suddenly it didn’t feel so random.

The lack of a response concerned Kol enough to abandon his current crumpled blood bag to seek out a mirror. Anyone in the room could see the look in his eyes when he saw it. The dark imprint of initials had faded into a white scar.

“After all this time damn time,” he mumbled, low enough that even his siblings had a difficult time understanding. “I just don’t understand,” he said, feigning a type of indifference. He couldn’t take his off it in the mirror though.

Rebekah peeked over to her other brothers to see if they had picked up on the coincidence at hand. From their expressions no. They just looked at Kol with pity. That emotion was hardly garnered for him before.

Kol himself looked dumbstruck. He had attributed so much to those stupid little initials. All that time he let himself think that maybe there was some grand plan to all of it. Rebekah, Klaus, and Elijah had formed a closer bond without him, but Kol went on persevering through time because he was the only one who had proof. The only one with proof that he was supposed to be a vampire. The only one who proved they weren’t just abominations like their parents had preached.

Kol was frozen. He was a man who had just lost the only faith he had.

“I’m gonna go get a drink,” he said suddenly, to an audience who didn’t know what to say. Rebekah forgot to remind him to be careful about the tourists. Their brief joy had been cut shorter by Kol’s realisation.

Kol let out a hiss when he started to move towards the door, and Rebekah wondered for a moment if he she had forgotten to give him his daylight ring. Yet it was there right on his finger.

“Perhaps the witch tricked you, sist-” Elijah began to say when Kol had spun around to face his family again.

Right where the scar had been, shocking them all, was the mark that had been there all along. D.C. etched on his skin black as midnight, and smoothly set. It was as if the scar had never been there.



The same for true for Davina, who had just startled awake in her church awake. Marcel was there to calm her down, but she couldn’t get the voices out of her mind.

The ancestors hated her. Marcel would later tell Davina that she hadn’t been out for long, but it felt like years. The elders of the coven always spoke about how dying was just uniting with your coven, that it was wonderful and fulfilling, but Davina’s death had just been white noise and hateful auras.

 Davina kicked against the white muslin sheet that wrapped her corpse, now reanimated into a living body, all up. When she finally ripped out of it she held onto Marcel in a way to make sure she was actually alive. He was solid, and Davina pulled back with shaky breaths when she verified this.

For a while she didn’t speak, and Marcel informed her that he had to leave and take care of business. He told her he would stay but Davina shook her head, citing that she needed alone time. In a way she had just had the most free time ever in her life, but the ancestors ruined that.

When he left, she sat on the edge of her bed, staring around her room. It was a dusty old attic, but it was most home to her than anyone else had ever been. Her apartment with her mom (who never even bothered to seek her out after the harvest) felt like a whole different world.

Magic had always been a big part of Davina’s life, but now it was her life. The supernatural world was the only one she inhabited.

It was when she got up to peer out her window that she saw her reflection. The glass reflected a faint image of a very tired teenage girl. Not tired by lack of sleep (Davina wasn’t sure if death qualified as such) but by everything. So tired that she almost missed the addition, or re-addition of something else.

At first she figured she had been imagining things. The glass was playing tricks with her.

But it was still there when she looked in the mirror. A reversed image she knew well.



“Maybe it was a glitch,” Kol guessed, never having left the compound after all. He’d been planning to drink away his unwelcome disappointment with a blend of gin and blood, but everything was happening at too fast of a pace.

“A glitch?” Elijah repeated incredulously. He shook his head to further the effect.

“Maybe it was confused by my whole resurrection,” Kol clarified, folding his hands behind his head. He was spread on a chair, looking up at the sky in what appeared to be deep thought.

“It?” Elijah repeated, and Kol threw a pillow at him. It was one of those outdoor ones, so one with tough fabric. Elijah caught it before it hit him anyway, but Rebekah still smiled at the exchange. It was nice to see her family together again, even if Klaus had already ducked out of the family reunion. Pressing matters and etcetera, etcetera.

Rebekah hated that she was leaving, but it was time for her to. Tensions were rising and Rebekah knew it was only a matter of time until her secret with Marcel came out. Klaus would be furious, and she wanted to be as far away from the realization as possible.

“Yes, it ,” Kol said again. “The whole soulmate sorting system. I think it got confused by a resurrection.”

“Or,” Rebekah offered, eying her phone closely, “maybe their was another resurrection in the world today.” She couldn’t know if Elijah was aware of just how likely that was the harvest girls, and one in particular, were being resurrected at that very moment. The first of them had woken up just a day before.

“Oh, that reminds me… Rebekah, has there been any news about Davina?” Elijah asked, as though he didn’t connect the dots. Perhaps he too found it a bit too bizarre to believe himself. “Hayley was curious,” he added, mistaking Rebekah’s silence for confusion. In truth, everyone was pretty curious about Davina Claire in New Orleans. What was supposed to be a major ritual was ruined by what many called a scared little girl, and they didn’t know if the ancestors would let her wake up.

Rebekah glanced down at the phone again, but Marcel had yet to reply to her many texts. She answered Elijah no, while eying Kol who was looking more curious.

“I believe I’m a bit behind on currents events. Anyone care to update me?”

Rebekah offered. She left out everything but Davina’s last name. She wasn’t sure what would happen when she tipped him off even more.

But Kol wasn’t stupid, as much as Rebekah thought sometimes. He was paying attention to when she said Davina’s parts of the story, perhaps because Rebekah’s voice shifted involuntarily when she did.

“Ah, Miss Claire’s awake!” Elijah announced after just glancing at his phone. From the way he glanced over to his brother, Rebekah was certain he understood the implications. And he didn’t even know that Davina had Kol’s initials.

Kol sat up from his lounging in an instant.

“Dammit, Elijah, I’ve been trying to figure that out for an hour,” Rebekah muttered, pushing her phone away. “How do you know?”


“How the hell does he know?”


Rebekah cursed Marcel for being such a horrible source.

“Davina Claire?” Kol said suddenly, pitching his voice up in question at the end. “Was she in a coma or something.”

“Davina was dead,” Rebekah corrected.

“Davina Claire. Davina Claire was dead and she’s just been resurrected,” Kol confirmed. He didn’t realize he was touching the very spot on his neck where those initials were.

Rebekah nodded. There were two ways she expected Kol to react; either very passively or very actively.

“I think you should get some sleep,” Rebekah said quickly, before he could get a word out. Death was tiring, as she once learned, and she was thinking of Davina too. This was all too much in one day. Still, she expected push back from Kol just for the hell of it.

“We don’t know if she has my initials?” Kol asked. Elijah started to say no but Rebekah interjected.

“-Yes.” Elijah looked to Rebekah in surprise, and she gave out a shrug in response. “What, it didn’t seem like relevant information until now,” she added to Elijah’s response.

That’s when Kol stood up, and it only thanks to Kol’s weakened state that Rebekah blocked him.

“What do you think you’re going to do brother? Walk up to the girl, who has had a pretty tough day already, and then what?” Elijah said, much to Rebekah’s surprise. She was prepared to made up something as she went along. “If not your sake, for hers.”

Rebekah shot a thankful smile at Elijah.

Kol didn’t look mad, he just looked confused. And he was. He hadn’t thought through the logistics of finding his supposed soulmate, not in a thousand years. But he felt like he had to do something. Anything.

“Davina isn’t a fan of us,” Rebekah reminded, “for her sake, think this through a bit more. I know that isn’t your style but perhaps just this once.”

Kol nodded a shallow, curt nod. Rebekah was expecting to have to do some more talking.

“I’ve waited this long,” he said, almost to himself, “I can wait another day.” Control, that was something new. For the first time in a very long while, he sounded optimistic. In a way he felt it too.




He waited more than a day.

Kol was frustrated. He didn’t have a clue what he would say to the witch when he saw her, but he just wanted to see her. Rebekah had left town out of the blue with a vague note in her absence. What this meant for Kol was two siblings in town who quickly lost interest, but at the same time asserted that Kol keep away from Davina.

Klaus said something about Marcel. Elijah said something about French Quarter Witches. It had been two weeks of being sequestered to the Mikaelson residence and little beyond, and Kol was done with it.

He had some faith that Klaus wouldn’t stake him right after being resurrected. At least that’s what he told himself as he made his way through the french quarter. He was planning on picking up dinner, actual dinner that consisted of something other than blood (and that wasn’t the stuff the compelled servants whipped up like clockwork), but he found himself wandering.

The city changed since he had been there last. The roots were the same, but there was a different energy in the air. It might have been Kol imagining things, but it didn’t feel as hopeless. His brothers were still ignoring him, but Kol didn’t find himself killing a few dozen tourists to capture their attentions. He considered it when Klaus blew him off to talk with some redheaded witch, but he stopped himself. Not because Kol was actively making a change, but because he realized he didn’t simply need to. Klaus could wait for another day.

The change was definitely more related to Kol than the city, but he found it embracing all the same.

Davina wasn’t sure what to make of her city. She’d called it home all of her life, but suddenly it expected more of her. She had always been a French Quarter witch, but now she was one of the French Quarter witches. The power she had channeled when she with Marcel was different now. It was equally powerful, but it no longer overwhelmed her. The magic didn’t flow out of her like it used to. Instead, it simmered waiting to be used.

Everyone else was waiting for her to use it as well. Genevieve, Monique, and the rest of her coven. The thought of using it scared Davina though. After what the ancestors had told her, the thought of using magic felt like a crime. Her body wouldn’t let her.

It was humiliating. Davina had made the biggest scene she possibly could against a ritual she would’ve survived eventually, and after succumbing to it she couldn’t even utilize the purpose of it.

She was walking home to her attic, a place that still felt homier than her old one ever did. Marcel had been acting weird around her, but she wasn’t sure if it was the fact she longer worked for him. Davina was back with her coven in the most public of ways. That day she had been informed of the many appearances she would be making as the harvest girl of fire.

According to Genevieve, she got a costume and everything.

She involuntarily brushed her hand up against a bush of dead roses outside of the church’s entrance. Before her throat was slit, the magic within her would bring the flowers back to life without a second thought. A few of the thorns stung against her wrist, but that wasn’t the reason why she stopped.

Davina peered around her, where only a few people were milling around. No one looked interested in what she was doing, so she turned her focus back to the sad bush. It looked like Davina felt.

She brushed her hand back up against it, but this time put all her energy into thinking of life and new beginnings. She muttered an incantation in french, a resurrection meant for flowers. The withered leaves morphed into crisp green leaves attached to wine colored roses.

Davina smiled. She smiled for maybe the first time since she’d woken up confused and afraid of the situation she’d been forced into, and it was a brilliant smile too. She couldn’t contain the sheer joy she felt in that moment and let the smile burst across her face like the sun peeking out of an eclipse.


Davina had been wrong though. One of the randoms walking across the street saw what she had been doing. The magic interested him at first, but then he saw her smile light up the dimming street.

Kol didn’t know it was Davina, but somehow he knew what she meant. Kol knew exactly whose smile had renewed the optimism he felt two weeks earlier.

Kol knew, he just didn’t realize it yet.




When Elijah had first informed him of the party, the idea bored Kol. A bonding party to maintain peace between the different supernatural factions? Basically means an uneventful party. One where drinking the guests wasn’t allowed.

So Kol had declined at first, naturally.

But then he realized what a party between supernatural factions meant. He was surprised Elijah mentioned it.

“A party where harvest witches will be making an appearance? Or a certain harvest witch?” Kol asked to be sure. Even though Rebekah had left, Klaus was holding firm onto Kol staying away from Davina. If Davina wasn’t mainly sequestered to the witches’ cemetery, he would’ve found a way, but they had wards up.

Out of curiosity he had ventured over to that part of the French Quarter to see if the wards were just a lie Klaus fed him, but Klaus was shockingly right.

“Yes,” Elijah confirmed, almost pained, “but this is to be chaos free event, so please, don’t do anything idiotic.” Kol put his hands up in feigned shock.

“Who? Me?” Kol tried to smile innocently, but that never really worked on him. Elijah looked less than thrilled, but he strolled away without another world. Kol had heard footsteps just moments before, and he assumed they belonged to Hayley. Kol had meant to ask Rebekah about that, whatever what going on between Elijah and Hayley, but Bex left before he had the chance. Despite Hayley’s situation, Klaus seemed less than interested, fortunately. The Tatia incident was a thousand years before, but there was no need for a repeat of that.

“Nice talk, brother,” he huffed, watching Elijah walk out of the door. He told himself that wouldn’t be preoccupied with Davina if he wasn’t so bored. His brothers had mostly left him to own devices but ordered him to stay out of trouble. It was mind numbingly boring.



Davina wished that her magic lessons were boring, they were before she was a harvest girl. Now they were were a never ending barrage of insults. When Genevieve told the girls they were going out that night, Davina dreaded it. Nighttime was usually when Davina could catch a break.

She couldn’t get the night off though. Not for the Mikaelson’s big event. The fact that Rebekah was gone didn't help.

All that left was Klaus and Elijah. Their feelings were mutual.

Davina put on her dress and put on a brace face. For this event, brave meant a smile. She has no idea what she was doing anymore. When she was with Marcel she at least had a purpose.

A harvest girl, that's what she would be for the night.

It was relatively low key, no one was that interested in mingling with the witches. She slipped away to a place where she could wallow in her misery, when she saw the blond werewolf approaching her.  She immediately straightened her back.

“Hey, you look-”

“Nervous, out of place, short in this dress?” Davina interrupted, laughing away her anxieties. All of her life she’d been taught to stay away from the other supernaturals in New Orleans.

“I was gonna say pretty,” he said. She stood still for a moment, letting herself adapt to a different type of conversation than she was expecting.

“I'm Oliver. So what's the name of the girl I’m about to ask to dance?” he asked. Davina opened her mouth to speak, but Monique slid in first.

Davina was excited by the prospect of someone speaking to her. And of course Monique thwarted it.

Davina made a beeline for the nearest escape. Nothing about the witches was comforting anymore. Her own mother was nowhere to be found. Davina had even made a point to ask the order witches how her soulmate mark could've come back, hoping it would lure her mom back out.

It didn't. Davina tried not to let it get to her.

“What a prick,” she heard someone say. She looked up to see the owner of the accented voice. It was a nice face; though one she’d never seen before.

Following his sight line, she realized he was referring to Oliver (who was now dancing with Monique). Davina took a moment to think Oliver wasn't even that cute before realizing she had found herself talking to someone, somehow.

“Oh, not really. I mean, I wouldn't know. I don't even know him,” she found herself saying. When she looked back to the voice, she took a moment to think that he was pretty cute.

“He let you walk away,”’ he pointed out, removing his eyes from the dance floor. He was looking at Davina closely, and despite herself she didn't look away. “He let a girl walk away upset. That’s not a good move.”

Davina found herself smiling at the stranger.

He smiled back.

“My name’s Kol,” he introduced. Unlike with Oliver, Davina didn't take her time in replying.

“Davina,” she supplied, her smile fading when his face morphed at the sound of her name. It was a recognition, like a lightbulb went off. “Listen, I don't want to talk about the harvest or how I'm a failure,” she asserted, the warmth fading, “I hear that every day.”

Kol lips ticked down in a frown at that comment, but he couldn't help the sense of excitement. He knew who the three harvest witches were at the party, but he knew immediately who it had to be. Still, hearing the confirmation coming her own lips was a shock.

A thousand years. A thousand years before Kol had heard bedtime stories about soulmates from Esther, and here his supposed soulmate was.

Kol had never found smiles particularly attractive, but he wished hers hadn't disappeared so soon.

“It's nothing like that, darling. I just- I’ve heard your name before. What you did was brave,” Kol said bluntly. He genuinely meant it too, but he couldn't believe the words came out of his mouth.

“Really?” Davina asked, looking back towards him in case he was a plant to manipulate her. She hated that the harvest had caused her to collapse inwards, but she allowed herself the criticism anyways. It made sense; Davina was only hurt now because she had fought a safe system. She fought the established witches.

“Of course. I don't give out my compliments so easily,” he explained with a grin. Davina figured he was a vampire, but she didn't recognize him as one of Marcel’s guys.

“Are you new to New Orleans?” she asked, despite the part of herself who wanted desperately to just flirt. She didn't get that luxury after everything she’d been through. If he wasn't with Marcel, there was a chance he was with the Mikaelson's.

“Well in a sense I’m very old to town, but I’m back again,” he said, choosing his words carefully. Davina notice that Elijah was looking over at him. She also noticed Kol looking at the initials that peeked out of the top of her dress.

“Any friends?” Davina didn't know if it was politically correct to outright ask who he was sided with. She had this unexplainable hope within her that wanted him to somehow be uninvolved in the whole mess.

“Not exactly.”

Davina looked at him for a moment, trying to decipher whatever that meant, and that's when she noticed his neck.

D.C. , clear as day.

Davina felt silly for thinking that meant anything. An amusing coincidence. But then she remembered his name, or at least the initial she knew.

“I don't think I got your last name,” she blurted suddenly, catching Kol off guard. He wanted to somehow broach the topic himself so Davina could make her own connections instead of him shouting it to the world.

In the moment, Kol wondered if he should make up a fake one. One that started with M, but didn't crucify him to Davina. For whatever reason, he didn't.

“Mikaelson,” he answered, to a split face.

Davina’s mouth wasn’t quite agape, but it was parted in a type of shock. This was the younger Mikaelson brother, the one who she thought had died. Initially she was struggling with the fact that she was chatting up a Mikaelson, who after inspection did look a lot like his brother. Then she remembered the reason why she had asked for his surname in the first place.

The sibling who never lost his mark.

Kol noticed Davina’s immediate shift in body language as she made the connection. As her eyes darted away from Kol, he wondered if she was looking again for an exit route.

“I thought you were dead,” she stated simply, after a visible gulp. She meant him, the Mikaelson she heard about. Part of her was projecting the other realization into that statement, causing her to unconsciously clutch her collarbone.

“Not anymore,” he replied, paying attention to her expression. He found himself pleased to hear she even knew of him, but there was little else to be pleased with in the situation. Davina thought that she looked like a fish out of water, but now she felt like a fish caught up in a net. No one at the party saw her wide eyes as a reason to help save her.

Kol saw her fear, but he knew was the reason for it. The instinct he felt to grab one of her hands was overridden by his brain. Partly because he knew what her reaction would be, but also in rebellion against the situation. Not in a thousand years had Kol ever tried to court someone. The term was different know, he assumed, but it felt like what he’d seen Rebekah do it a hundred and one times.

Davina let out an uneasy laugh. She knew she should leave and never look back. When her mother had told her romantic stories of soulmates she had never imagined her own future (besides the times that Tim appeared), but it sure wasn’t this. A vampire certainly wasn’t supposed to be in the cards, let alone one of the oldest ones in existence. Surely her perfect match wasn’t a member of a family she despised.

For a fleeting second told herself that perhaps Kol wasn’t really her soulmate (that it was all a matter of crazy timing). That second was hardly complete though.

She let himself look at his face, and in that moment she knew. Or, she allowed herself to know.

“How did you die?” Davina asked, emotion entering her voice. She didn’t even need to say that she knew what they were to each other. A total shift had happened, and it spoke volumes.

“I was staked by the only thing that can kill an original vampire,” he said after a pause. Both of them thought back to the sharp pain they had felt in their chest. “A white oak stake,” he elaborated, anger flooding his voice, “it lit me on fire, and I burned.”

The million ants clawing at her skin. It was fire.

(She would realize the irony later, being the harvest witch of fire)

“It was awful,” Davina muttered thinking back to the day Kol must’ve died, “makes getting your throat slit seem like child’s play.” A shudder ran through her body at the memory of both.

Around them the party continued on, a jazz song filling the room with good intent.

Kol looked at Davina with an unreadable expression. There was an anger there, but now anger for Davina’s sake.

“You felt it when I died?” he asked, his voice hushed for the first time in their conversation. His time on the other side was spent plotting revenge and wallowing in self pity. Throughout his life he had held onto the purpose that his intact mark gave him, looking at the fall of his sibling’s marks with shallow pity. For the first time he truly realized that someone else (that someone being Davina) had been living with their mark that tied them to him, and they felt that same loss that Klaus, Rebekah, and Elijah did. He realized that his death had taken a toll on a total stranger.

That raised his little group of mourners to four.

Davina nodded, finding that it was almost too much to look him in the eye. They were filled with so many emotions that she didn’t know what to feel herself.

“I am so sorry, Davina,” he said, his voice staying at the same tone and the same volume. It sounded like he was cursing someone, but she couldn’t be sure who. Perhaps who killed him, perhaps who created the universe and soulmates in return.

Davina nodded again, this time only a small movement. It was no longer Kol who made her uncomfortable, but her memories. Memories of pain and loss and suffering.

Part of her wanted to hug Kol, but she decided against mainly because of their environment. It wouldn’t really make sense, though it would certainly be a victory (and then some) towards Elijah’s plan of peace.

Instead Davina reached for his hand. He let her, and his eyes remained locked on their intertwined fingers. It was an intimate gesture, Kol realized, but he didn't mind.

“I’m sorry too.”




Anything with half a brain could have made the connection between Kol and Davina. Well, anyone paying attention. Luckily that meant only a handful of people.

“That new Mikaelson brother’s cute,” Monique commented to Abigail before the big event for the New Orleans witches. Davina frowned, but didn't respond.

Genevieve, an ancestor who took Cassie’s resurrection from her, heard this and added her own comment.

“He's a psychopath,” the redheaded witch said. Not that she was one to talk, the younger girls all thought. Genevieve was very obviously sleeping with Klaus.

Davina's frown was then coupled with a deep furrow in her brows, but she still said nothing. When Davina approached Marcel with topic of Kol, he had admitted he knew. His admittance came with a warning. One that Davina was trying hard to ignore.

Monique inquired for more, but Genevieve ignored her. It was one of the only times that Davina was thankful she had spoken.

“Girls, we have more important things to focus on tonight,” she snapped.

It was true in a variety of ways. It was the Fete des Benedictions. At first a big parade put on by for the witches for tourism, and then behind the scenes another intermingling between species. Genevieve explained it as a coming out of sorts for the Harvest girls. It also meant Davina would have to see Kol. For the fifth time.

They'd met behind closed doors, safe from any sightings. Kol insisted that get together to talk the first time even though Davina was adamantly against it. After she had left the Mikaelson’s party, the spell had been broken. She reminded herself that Kol was the brother of monsters, a monster himself.

Yet she succumbed to a single meeting. Then a few more. He helped her with her magic (she discovered on his first day he’d been a witch too, way back when) and that gave Davina an excuse to keep inviting him over.

She saw him in the crowd when the Harvest girls were performing for the tourists. The crowd loved the fire at the end, but Davina found herself looking for Kol’s reaction. He was a fleeting figure, but her eyes followed him.

They landed on Kol conversing with Elijah. Davina was being ushered from the public spectacle to the private event, so she lost her view, but somehow she ended up next to them walking in.

“Davina, how lovely too see you,” Elijah greeted, stopping her in her path. She shot him a hefty glare, softening only slightly when she saw Kol was by his side.

“I can't say the same,” she replied, trying not to let Kol’s presence influence her. She still hated Elijah. Hated him for what happened to Tim.

Elijah gave her a look of understanding. Davina acknowledged that the eldest Mikaelson respected her, but it didn't make up for what Klaus and him had done.

Of course Genevieve swooped in to chastise her about being kinder to him. After a roll of her eyes, she started to walk away.

In the process of doing so, Kol rushed to move beside her. He offered his elbow out to her, which Davina surveyed incredulously. She shook her head.

“Kol, we’re not in the fifteenth century. And we don't know each other well, remember?” Davina peered around them. They had kept their pace so no one took notice.

“Right,” Kol agreed, not sounding very convincing. “Strangers, who also happen to be soulmates,” he said, looking straight at her.

Davina coughed. Kol hadn't shouted it out, but they were crossing into a room filled with supernatural creatures with excellent hearing.

“Right,” she repeated with a small nod, pivoting to her own right, where the other Harvest girls were waiting. Kol was left standing there, watching her walk away.

“I see you're doing a wonderful job, brother,” Elijah said, startling Kol from his focus. Kol let out a sarcastic laugh.

“It’s your fault,” Kol accused, but he wasn't taking himself too seriously. He picked up a champagne glass from a passing by tray.

“Klaus is the one who killed her boyfriend,” Elijah corrected, but he could admit he was involved with the plot.

“Boyfriend?” Kol asked, downing his drink. He’d never gotten the specifics, though from Davina’s views he knew something big must've happened. He assumed it was just a friend.

Elijah looked slightly amused.

“A dead one,” he reminded, “may Timothy rest in peace”. Kol never really pursued romance, and so the side effects never affected him. Jealousy was something to see, especially when it was inspired by a dead ex.

“Well, I see why she would hate you and Nik then,” Kol admitted, watching as Davina took her seat. Plenty of people were coming up to her, but he noticed none of them were witches. “Always making enemies with the wrong people. Or, you know, all, people.”

“You’re excluding yourself in the enemy making?” Elijah asked, with a rather accusatory tone. Not a misplaced one.

“Well, not with Davina. She’s far too lovely for that,” Kol commented. “I’d hope we were the farthest thing from enemies, but you’re not helping my cause.”

“And how were we supposed to know Marcel’s ward would end up being your so-”

Kol cast him an alarmed look before his brother could finish. Elijah sighed. The word was being avoided like the plague around his family. Elijah never did see his brother being the type for romance, but soulmates are based in fact as much as in emotion. Avoiding the word and dancing around the subject was frustrating for those watching their story unfold. It was an annoying matter of pride.

“I’m sorry, brother, but I do believe she’ll come around,” Elijah said, motioning over with his glass to the witch in question. Her eyes had been focused on Kol, but they darted away quickly.

Kol didn’t catch it though. He did however see her mark peeking from her dress. He wondered if anyone else had made the connection. It felt obvious, but maybe it seemed too ridiculous to comprehend. A Mikaelson, the one with an almost obsolete record with romantic pursuits, supposedly meant to be with a teenage witch.

He would’ve laughed a year before, and did laugh at the Salvatore brothers for their quarrels over Elena Gilbert. She had one of their initials, but that didn’t stop the other from trying anyway. Kol found her dull (and after the whole death situation, infuriating) but the whole soulmate business was downright annoying.

Kol was happy to be in New Orleans instead of Mystic Falls. He found himself thankful that he his family had chosen to relocate.

At that very moment Davina was beaming at some guest. For the first time yet it was a witch who had come up to speak with her.

Kol was thankful for the relocation was more than one reason. The Mikaelson takeover of the Quarter had been a mixed success, but it was fate for a reason.



Davina felt her eyes watering. It was one of Genevieve’s stupid games, but it stung all the same. Nothing Davina could do would make her their equal again.

She was about to get up when she saw Kol approaching. It froze her to her seat. She saw the witch muttering directions to each gift giver, so she knew what was happening, but some for reason Kol walking straight past her and placing a gift in front of Abigail or Monique felt like it would be the worst humiliation.

She saw the witch whisper into his ear whenever to place his gift; his expression was immediately soured. He glanced over at the stacks that had grown in front of everyone but Davina, and flicked his eyes up to meet hers.

She felt the need to be stoic more than before.

She swallowed hard, bracing for him to walk past her like a hundred other people had throughout the night. He stopped dead in front of her though, his lips curving upwards when the directing witch approached him again. He didn't listen to her aggressive murmurs though, placing the small box in front of Davina’s feet.

Davina didn't need to say anything. The thanks filling her eyes didn't leave Kol until he was ushered away.

She first let herself look at the small box on the floor. It was a petite hill next to the mountains of offerings next to her, but she was grateful for the box. It could've been empty and she wouldn't have cared.

Several others has passed her with offerings by the time she looked up to see Genevieve. Her lips were in a tight line, her wine glass hanging off her fingers, dangling by her legs.

Then there was Kol, smug at the discomfort of the witches around him. They weren't happy with him, but Davina certainly was.

Still, she hoped people would write it off as just a stupid act of defiance on Kol’s part. Her situation with the ancestors was precarious enough.




Davina was scouring through an old spell book when she heard Kol coming up the stairs. She frowned, glancing down at her phone to see if he had texted her. She wasn't quite sure they were at the level where one could just drop in.

Especially at inconvenient times.

“Knock knock,” Kol monotoned, leaning against her door’s open frame. She glanced up to his hovering figure. He’d been invited in several times before.

“Come in,” she offered, despite the previously mentioned fact and her preoccupation. Kol was very conscious of private spaces. He mentioned fleetingly that he had his own hideaway in New Orleans, but too passingly to elaborate.

“What's the violin for?” he asked, moving to pick it up.

“Don't,” Davina warned, the moment she saw him moving towards his. Kol paused mid motion, moving his hands up and away. She could’ve said anything, the tone immediately struck him. When he moved a considerable ways from the violin, she released a breath she hadn't realized she’d been holding. “It was a friends,” she explained briefly, looking back down to her pile of books.

When it was clear there would be no protest, Kol picked one up. Davina had bookmarks sparingly placed in it.

“Communication with the dead?” Kol translated, peeking onto Davina’s current read to see if it fell in the same category. Latin proved difficult to read upside down, but he instantly recognized phrases.

“Do you know of anything that works with humans? I can only find stuff for the supernatural,” Davina said, holding up a page in her book. Kol realized it wasn’t Latin at all. It read in french, comment faire la connaissance des âmes surnaturelles .

“That’s because humans go somewhere in the afterlife that we can’t reach,” Kol explained, noting the fall on Davina’s face. What was frustration, was now hopelessness. “It’s how zombies can happen. Trying to a resurrect a human soul doesn’t end well.”

Davina was frowning, but the zombie comment peaked her interest.

“Zombies are real?” she asked, her voice upset for far more than that realization.

“Kind of. But pretty outdated. I’ve never heard of one wanting brains. They eat food, but they die pretty quickly. They were never meant to come back. I think the last attempt was back when I was only a couple hundred years old.”

“Oh,” she muttered. An underwhelming response. She sunk onto her bed, dropping her spellbook to her side. “Not even a quick hi?” she asked, looking at Kol and already knowing the answer. Kol hated having to shake his head because he knew it would disappoint her further. He was pretty sure who she wanted to talk to, even though Davina had never mentioned him to Kol.

“Afraid not,” the said softly. “They’re in a better place though. Certainly better than where we go,” Kol offered, and Davina found a bit of solace in that. “Well, better than vampires,” he corrected, “I assume it’s not too bad with the old witches.”

Davina laughed, a bitter and jaded laugh that didn’t match her young face.

“The witches hated me and hate me still,” she contradicted. “I hope I never die again. At least, not until I’m old and gray and they feel bad for me.”

“I find it hard to believe anyone could hate you,” he said, and again she laughed that same laugh.

“Ask any witch in town, they’ll explain it to you.” Davina sounded like she believed what she was saying.

“Because your instinct was to survive? That’s admirable,” Kol offered, sitting down next to Davina. She glanced sideways at and him.

“It’s more than that. I’m sort of a traitor if you haven’t noticed. Marcel, Josh…,” she trailed off, looking at Kol for a moment. He knew what she meant by it. “You,” she voiced finally, “though that hasn’t hit the public yet. God, I can only imagine what they’d say if they found about about me and you.”

“That we’re soulmates,” Kol stated, surprising himself by the word choice. Davina flinched at the word.

“That we’re friends,” she said, looking at the lack of space between them as if registering that he’d sat next to her for the first time. “Well, that bit too,” she corrected, “but that’s beyond my control. I’m still choosing to spend time with you. I could be avoiding you like the plague, but here we are.”

Kol let that sink in. He hadn’t really thought about it that way. Like his siblings probably expected of him, he could’ve ignored the discovery of his soulmate. Yet, he acknowledged Davina, and Klaus even teased that he pining after her (and Kol accepted the accusation of pursuing, he felt pining was a bit much). Kol always saw soulmates as fate, and it was, but there was still choice involved.

In some way, they were both making that choice.

“Why are you? Spending time with me?” Kol found himself asking. Davina thought for a moment, perhaps too long for any normal conversation, but this was a special case. Careful with her words, she gave him an answer.

“I think we’re similar people. We haven’t been dealt the best hands, and we haven’t been treated very fairly. When I came from the dead I was lost… but then you showed up.” She was talking slowly, and she could barely meet his eyes. “Honestly, you still confuse me, but I don’t feel so lost anymore. I don’t really know how to put it because we still don’t each other very well, but I feel grounded.” She shot him a weak smile, half hating herself for putting it all out there. She’d feigned a slight disdain for him since they’d met, but that veneer was shattered in an instant.

Kol didn’t say anything, but he looked at her with what could only be described as hope. Shock, but mostly hope.

Davina leaned forward and kissed Kol. His frozen state melted when she pressed her lips to his, and he responded almost immediately. Davina had kissed a few guys from her school, but never like this. It was sweet for only a moment, deepening into something more passionate. They broke apart for air, but she pushed her hands against his chest before he could lean back in.

She took back what she said about feeling grounded with him. In that moment, for lack of better words, she was almost dizzy. Things were evolving a rapid pace, especially compared to Davina’s afternoon plans of reading through spell books.

For Tim.

Remembering this, Davina no longer felt dizzy.

“Why did you come see me in the first place?” she asked, curious. Kol had waltzed in without a stated purpose only a few minutes earlier. He looked dazed himself for a moment, but he snapped out of it.

“I was going to see if you wanted to get food? I heard through the grapevine that you hadn’t been with the witches lately, and your vampires friends said they hadn’t seen you around. People haven’t seen you around, and this isn’t a huge area,” he explained, though not in an enlightening way, “your attic, though charming, doesn’t have anywhere to store or make food.” Davina looked at him blankly.

“You wanted to make sure I was eating?” she clarified. Self admitted, she hadn’t been out much in the previous few days, but she had done the very least and fed herself. She also had a small cabinet that acted as her pantry. He was right about the appliances though, she hadn’t gotten around to really renovating the place.

“You were upset at that party. I do the opposite when I’m upset and drin- eat a lot, and that always seems to help,” he justified, looking embarrassed. Davina could’ve done without the almost mention of blood, but it still made her smile. It was weirdly thoughtful.

“We can go get food, though I promise I’ve eaten in the past 72 hours.”

Kol grinned, hopping up. Davina told herself not to think about Tim, but live in the present instead.




When things went south in NOLA, it could only be expected that they would get worse. Davina was constantly looking, anticipating the storm to come. Things had been simmering for too long.

“Kol, I think you need to leave town,” she said, out of the blue one day. They had been wandering around souvenir shops in the Quarter on a nice day. It was relatively quiet, but the entire time she had been tense.

“Are you leaving with me?” he asked in response, ignoring her solemn tone. He had been looking at New Orleans themed trinkets placed outside of a shop. Mardi Gras was ages away, but green and purple paraphernalia was already popping up.


“Then no,” he answered, looking down to see Davina’s very serious face. She looked like she was the verge of tears. “What’s wrong?”

“Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed. Something’s happening with the witches, with Marcel, with your family,” she said, “Marcel asked me to do a few spells today. I don’t know what Klaus will do if he finds out, but I think you need to be far away from here.” Kol frowned at this, and his brows furrowed too. He understood what she was saying, things had been tense, but he mostly ignored the city politics.

“Klaus seems to have turned a new leaf,” Kol told her, unsure why she was getting so worked up. “I don’t think he would hurt you, if only for my sake.”

“Kol, just listen to me,” she pleaded, placing her hand on his arm. “I have a bad feeling. Besides, nothing’s really holding you here, so what’s the harm in humoring me?”

“I’ll humor you if you went with me too,” Kol countered, serious now too. “You’re what’s holding me here, Davina.” Though his family had been better to him, it was true what he said. Kol could’ve taken off at any time, maybe gone and met up with Rebekah, and he was staying for Davina. At first it was just to meet her, then it was to get to know her, and now it was simply to be with her. Only a few months had passed but Kol knew at the very least that he wanted to stick by Davina.

And at that moment she was trying to change that.

“I have to stay here. For Marcel and for Josh and even for Cami, if she gets roped into it,” she reasoned. She’d unofficially severed ties with her coven, but New Orleans was still her home and so were the people in it.

“You need to put yourself first,” Kol told her. It was a very Kol statement, but one he wished she would listen to.

“I need to be here if anyone needs help, but you need to leave here so I don’t have to worry about you. Don’t say you’ll be worried about me, because I can take of myself.” Took the words out of his mouth.

“I know you can, darling, but am I not allowed to be the concerned boyfriend?” he asked.

“Presumptuous, are we?” she teased, but without much gusto. In another, less tense moment, Davina would’ve made a scene.

“Maybe,” he said. Davina and Kol just were, they hadn’t thought too much about it. In a sense, that was what soulmates were supposed to be.

“You can be concerned, but from afar,” she instructed, pushing him away for effect. The effect doesn’t work when the pushee is much stronger than you and stays put. Instead, Kol went closer and wrapped her up in his arms.

“I’ll be concerned from up close. I’m not about to abandon you, Davina Claire,” he muttered into her ear. He pulled back and gave her a quick kiss. Davina smiled weakly. It wasn’t the answer she wanted to hear.



Davina was right. Of course she was right.

So much was happening that Davina could hardly keep her head straight. She had just saved Josh from dying but she had no idea where Kol was. Marcel was somewhere dying from a werewolf bite, and Davina could do nothing about it. She could only hope Klaus would come through in the end.

“He’ll be okay,” Josh croaked up at a worried Davina. She wasn’t sure which one he meant.He was laying down on her attic floor, having been transferred from the Mikaelson’s Quarter residence. The commotion had woken him up, but Davina was grateful. It meant he was alive.

She was touched Josh was concerned for someone else, as he was almost dead hours before. Davina had told Josh about Kol shortly after thing’s became a bit more legitimate. She admitted what was happening to Marcel as well. One had taken it better than the other, but they were some of the only few that knew for a while. When Davina split with her coven, it was only natural that they found about her relationship with Kol. It wasn’t like she sent out a flier, but their public appearances were more than telling.

From the murmurings she picked up someone had also made the soulmate mark connection. The reactions were a mixed bag. Davina momentarily thought would her mother would think. Finally, she got what her mom never got, but she doubted her mom would appreciate the man it ended up being.

Josh had been the most supportive. Though he wasn’t Kol’s biggest fan either, Josh was aware of what Kol meant to her.

“Marcel will survive somehow. Kol will survive somehow too.” His clarification, made through a voice squeaky with pain, made her thank the stars for being so lucky to have such a great friend.

She smiled down at said friend, supportive even in such a dire situation. She gripped on his hand, squeezing it tight.

“You’re okay. That’s good for now,” she said, happy she could save him. He didn’t look good, but he would recover. She’d been able to cure his werewolf bite, just barely. Barely enough that she couldn’t save both Marcel and Josh.

For a while they sat in silence, while the war stormed on outside. She wondered what tourists thought, or if they even noticed the commotion. Probably not, they were too drunk and too easily compelled. Any thoughts she could think to keep her mind of Marcel and Kol, she did. Eventually she dozed off. She didn’t dream.

When Davina woke back up, light was streaming in through her windows. Time felt off, but she presumed it had only been a few hours. Josh was asleep still, but his coloring was back to normal. His face wasn’t slick with sweat like only hours before.

She gently got up, careful not to him wake him. She immediately reached for her phone, hoping for messages. One from Marcel let her breathe out a sigh of relief, but nothing from Kol. She tried calling him, but no response. Her soulmate mark was intact and Davina hadn’t woken to any immense pain, but there were fates other than death.

So she stayed with Josh, keeping her phone in sight. Even when Josh woke she stayed. Davina didn’t know where she would go to look for him.

“Where’s Marcel?” Josh had inquired, looking better. One would never guess he’d just been at death’s door. Davina shrugged at his question, but assured that he was ok. All she knew was that Klaus had saved him somehow, and for the first time she was truly grateful.

“I should go try and find him,” Josh said, but when he moved to get up his legs crashed beneath his weight. “Nevermind,” he muttered, accepting his place on the ground. Davina helped him up, but moved him to her bed.

“Sleep, please? I’ll go out and look.” Josh nodded, and though he looked like he was going to be stubborn he succumbed to sleep. Hesitantly, she did leave, casting glances over her shoulder.

She had just gotten outside her church doors when she crashed into a zooming figure. It took her a moment to register who it was, but she threw her arms around him the moment she realized. Kol let her, and let out an exhausted sigh.

“Are you okay?” she asked, frantically moving back to access for any damage. His shirt was dirtied with blood, but he looked better than she expected. She wasn’t sure if that was due to his vamp healing (though he knew it was). He nodded, but his expression wasn’t triumphant.

“The harvest witches are dead. Abigail, Monique… Genevieve too,” he said, and Davina felt her heart sink, “we killed them”. They’d been nothing but cruel to her, but something in her heart still gave out. Kol told her story, of Hayley’s birth and witches trying to sacrifice it, and how Hayley was now a hybrid. He was muddy about the details about what happened to his niece.

“I wouldn’t kill a baby,” she said, almost numbly. Kol looked as stricken as her.

“I know, but those were your people,” Kol reasoned, “that could’ve been you in another life.” Davina had thought the same thing but didn’t want to say it. She’d walked away from them only weeks before. The silence between them hung heavily. “I saw Marcel. Is Josh ok?” he asked suddenly.

“He’s upstairs.” She nodded with her chin up to where her attic window overlooked the street. When her focus settled back on Kol, his eyes were laser focused on her.

“I think you were right when you said I should leave,” Kol admitted to her, and Davina’s breathe caught in her throat. “This place… it’s always been my family’s home but not mine.”

She couldn’t move.

“You’re leaving,” she said, light as a air when the words left her lips. She instantly felt fragile, like a vase teetering off of an edge.

“I think we should,” he corrected, not realizing what Davina had thought. For a moment, only a moment but one that felt like a million, she thought he was leaving her behind. “We need to be someplace far away from here, start fresh. I know New Orleans means more to you but it’s toxic. We should get out now while things are calm. While we can.”

“We,” she repeated, eyeing Kol for confirmation.

“Yes, we.”

Davina had too many things racing through her head. Camille, Marcel, Josh, School, Biological Family, Tim, Klaus… among other things. What her mind kept getting stuck on was her coven though. The coven she’d left, the coven that really didn't want her either. The coven that would’ve inadvertently killed her if she hadn’t left them.

Davina had a survival instinct, but she also had loyalties. She was looking at Kol, who looked as if he were holding his breath. He looked tired and exhausted, but ultimately desperate for her response.

Davina was looking at Kol, but she found herself looking at the initials in his neck. Her initials, shining against his skin in pitch black. Kol didn’t even flinch when her fingers lightly touched them.

She’d barely ever left New Orleans, let alone Louisiana. Her whole life was for the French Quarter witches. Her life had then been to help her friends.

She eyes flicked from his neck to his eyes, and she knew her answer. Davina had been selfish for her friend’s sakes, but Davina realized she wanted to be selfish for herself. She wanted to be happy, without all the strings attached.

“Yeah, I think we should too,” she said, nodding to herself. The words shocked her ears, but something in her heart calmed her. “Yes,” she stated, a smile finding its way to her lips. It was as radiant as when Kol first saw her.

Kol looked as shocked as Davina felt, but he was smiling all the same. He kissed her with passion, and she didn't really care who saw. For the first time, it wasn't going to matter what the city thought of her. 


"Where to?" Kol asked a day later, putting the last bag in the trunk of his old car. He promised Davina weeks before that she would never drive it, but she was already in the drivers seat. Davina suspected Kol arranged everything so fast because he was afraid she would back out. But for some reason, this felt like the right thing to do. So much had gone wrong in her life, and so much in his, but something about driving away from it all felt right. Meant to be.

It did not feel like they were running away. Instead, it felt like a reward for all the shit they'd been through.

"Anywhere," Davina said, dripping with optimism. Part of her was nervous, but her prominent feeling was one of hope. They had no real clue where they were going, so Davina had proposed a road trip. Kol immediately wanted to take her to Europe (in his words, the Atlantic ocean might be enough distance), but Davina felt the need to start slow. 

Kol slid into the passenger seat, and felt a pang of affection when she glanced over at Davina. She was glowing. Kol was afraid she would nix his idea immediately, but he realized Davina needed to get out of New Orleans more than he thought. He leaned over to peck her on the lips and she happily pecked back, but she didn't have time for long languid kisses. She was pure energy.

And they drove off. They passed the New Orleans city limits. They eventually passed the Louisiana city limits. Kol kept thinking Davina would suddenly stop and want to go back but she didn't. They went anywhere and everywhere, never looking back.

Not once.