Prologue

1.

Rousseau's was heaving!

Live music filled the bar as the evening's revellers could be heard shouting laughter and merriment at varying degrees of volume, in an attempt to be heard over the raucous entertainment. The air was thick with rich scents of freshly poured Liquors, blended with dense wisps of smoke diffusing through the room from lit cigarettes and cigars. It was a typical Friday evening crowd gathered in the Quarter's premier Jazz club, consisting of both locals wanting to let their hair down after a long working week, and the odd group of tourists all mainly sat in the booths near the back of the room, indulging in one of the many vibrant experiences that New Orleans had to offer.

And of course, there were a handful of witches and vampires dotted about, making up the final numbers in the room.

In any other venue, on any other evening, these latter two factions of the bar's cliental would have been found clawing at each other's throats, like all good sworn enemies should be. But not tonight. Or to put it more specifically, not in Rousseau's.

It was well known to those who lived in and around the seasoned streets of the Quarter, that the many mythical beings which usually only lurked within the horror films and books of modern culture, were far more real than just the fantasies of deranged writers and producers trying to make a buck.

Well known, but hardly ever discussed.

You see New Orleans was infamous to most outsiders as the "Big Easy". Infamous for its lively night life, it's energetic and vibrant festivals, its widely celebrated live music and new talent, and of course its colourful history steeped in Voodoo and mystery. And that is the way the people of New Orleans wanted it to remain. For if the outside world knew of what really made up the backbone of this festival town, the tourist trade would surely plummet faster than the stock market of 1929, taking with it all the lucrative spending which kept the city ticking over day to day.

So the local people kept quiet about the real heart and soul of their home. And for the most part, they turned a blind eye to all the horrors and despair that came hand-in-hand with it.

And there was plenty of Horror.

But in Rousseau's life went on as normal – or as normal as a city full of the undead could ever hope to be. There was a sort of unspoken law that held fast amongst both the magical and immortal residents that dwelled in the Quarter. A law which stated that come the weekend, when the remains of the day were only a memory of captured heat in the ground and a fast shrinking orange line glowing on the far western horizon – Rousseau's became a safe haven for those souls who simply wanted to have fun. Ancient feuds were left at the door, right next to the regular's coats, hats, and mundane troubles of the working week. Sons and daughters of families locked in centuries worth of bitter, and often bloody disputes, would put aside their hatred for the evening and simply settle for avoiding each other on the dance floor whilst partaking in the nights merriment. It was an unspoken law that had been upheld since the bar had opened many decades ago.

And it was an unspoken law that Rousseau's bar manager, Josh, always felt eternally grateful for.

This particular evening, he was also grateful for the exceptionally talented Saxophone player who was currently entertaining his bar's patrons. The musician's graceful manipulation of the classic instrument was helping to take his mind off a potentially disastrous situation that was unfolding back at his own apartment.

Freya had been in the process of magically torturing the Hollow's murderous, High Priest – what was his name again, Dominic maybe, he was always so bad at remembering names – when she had suddenly and unceremoniously thrown him out of his own apartment, his services apparently no longer needed.

His own apartment!

If it wasn't for the fact that Marcel was currently missing, and thus most of the Quarter's vampires were otherwise engaged in the search for their affore mentioned leader, Josh would have returned back to his home with a group of the King of New Orlean's finest, to show that self-important Mikaelson witch exactly who was in charge in this city.

But of course, that hadn't happened.

So here he was, back working behind the bar of Rousseau's, trying to not think about the bloody state that his apartment was no doubt now in.

Josh was in the process of pouring a shot of Jack Daniels for what he gingerly thought was a particularly handsome looking tourist, when he glanced up suddenly at the sound of Rousseau's front door opening with what seemed like an overkill of force.

Through it stormed a woman that he had briefly met earlier that same evening, here in the bar. She had been in maybe 40 minutes earlier, looking as though she was in desperate need of a doctor, and asking for the whereabouts of the Mikaelson witch, Freya. He had reluctantly sent her up to his apartment, where he had believed Freya would still be in the midst of dismembering the Hollow's high priest. Reluctantly, because she had seemed like a nice, "normal" lady to him, and certainly not someone who should be getting themselves involved with that deplorable family. But she had insisted that she was a friend of Freya's and that it was urgent that she find her, so Josh had agreed to point her in the right direction. Mainly because it had looked like the woman had already had enough of being messed around for one evening. Although how anyone as obnoxious and overbearing as Freya could have someone even close to being a friend, was beyond him.

And now here the mysterious woman was again - looking a lot less like she belonged in a hospital, but a hell of a lot more angry.

Yep, he thought, she'd found Freya alright. Only someone who'd spent some time in the presence of a Mikaelson could possibly look that pissed off.

Studying her as she made her way through the crowd towards the bar, it occurred to him that she not only looked less injured than she did earlier, but that she was in fact completely healed. All the cuts and bruises that had marred her face less than an hour ago, had now totally vanished. This, Josh knew, could mean only one of two things; either she'd happened to find a willing vampire to give her some of its healing blood, or she was indeed herself more than first met the eye.

Given how annoyed the lady now looked, he hoped for the safety of both his bar and his patrons, that it was the first scenario and not the latter.

"From the look on your face miss, I'd say that you definitely need a drink", Josh said to her as she reached the bar and seated herself on a barstool.

She quickly looked up at him, with a somewhat hard anger gleaming in her eyes. But then her gaze softened slightly and she sighed, seemingly realising that the man stood in front of her was not the object of her ire.

"Yeah, a tequila please. Better make it a double!"

2.

Keelin was angry. Hell, she was more than angry - she was furious!

She couldn't remember the last time she had felt so infuriated at someone - nor could she remember any other person having the ability to get her so worked up as quickly as had just happened a few minutes ago.

She was of course a wolf - a fact which itself brought with it certain traits and disadvantages when it came to trying to control the flow of her emotions. Wolves were notorious for being quick to temper, and even quicker to lash out at any individual who caused that temper. They were for the most part a slave to their emotion's, living day to day on the rollercoaster ride of high's and low's that their excessively elevated level of hormones dictated. If a number of them lived together in close quarters for any excessive period of time, it could be guaranteed that several fights would break out on a regular basis. And not all of those altercations would end up with everyone involved retaining possession of all of their limbs.

Such was life in a pack.

But for Keelin it had been different. She had worked hard over the past few years trying to control her wolf nature, and all of the emotional outbreaks that came with it. Being a doctor, with access to medical laboratories on a daily basis, she had been able to create a serum - a cocktail of drugs so to speak - which had helped to subdue the side of her personality that was a constant slave to the cycles of the moon.

And then of course she had met the Mikaelson witch, Freya. Who over the course of enlisting Keelin's help with family matters, had given her a Kyanite ring which had been infused with the Witch's magic. The ring was designed to give her complete control over her Wolf nature, meaning that she no longer had to suffer the unwanted surge of emotions that could suddenly build up within her at the drop of a hat. Incredibly she was also no longer cursed to turn into her true wolf form on every full moon, against her will. She could finally just be….human.

So why then, did she currently feel like she was very close to losing that tenuous grip on her calm humanity, in favour of morphing into the very being she fought to supress?

Freya.

Their relationship had not exactly gotten off to a smooth start. In truth, it had been a-rough-a beginning as Keelin imagined there could ever be for a fledgling friendship.

Having been kidnapped by Hayley, Keelin had been held hostage by the Mikaelson family as they had strived to find a cure for powerful venom that had the potential to wipe out their whole clan. Freya, the family's oldest sister, and a very powerful Witch, had needed a source of Malroux wolf venom to complete a serum that she had been working on. One which would help to cure two of the Witch's brothers who had already been infected by the bite of Marcel Gerrard. And with Keelin being the last surviving member of the Malroux wolf line, it had all come down to her to provide the final ingredient needed.

She shuddered slightly, as she remembered the method which Freya had employed to extract her wolf venom. The ominous face mask that she had been made to wear, had been both excruciatingly painful and extremely claustrophobic. And despite her captor's constant re-assurance that she had been more valuable to their family alive than dead, Keelin had had a hard time believing that particular promise when the awful agony caused by the mask had been coursing through her veins. It had taken all of her strength and will power just to remain conscious, and not to slip away into the beckoning void of darkness that had constantly threatened to overcome her whilst the mask was engaged.

However, once a few days had passed and apparently enough of her venom had been collected, Freya had stopped forcing her wear the extractor mask, and slowly started seeing Keelin as an actual person, instead of just a means to an end for her family's survival.

Keelin suddenly and abruptly laughed to herself, despite her current dark state of mind.

She recalled Freya's first attempt at an apology for the pain and distress that she had put her through, and smiled slightly, before quickly shaking her head and returning to her deep scowl. The mighty Viking witch, so severe in her manner, so devout in her loyalty and dedication to her family, and so adamant that nothing stopped her from achieving her goals no matter what the cost - had been hurt by a little antiseptic wipe which Keelin had been using to clean a wound on the witch's head. Freya's small yelp of pain had been the cutest thing that Keelin had heard in a long time, and if she admitted it to herself, it was probably the first moment when she had realised that Freya was beginning to get under her skin.

Well she was certainly under her skin alright, but not in a good way this night. Right now, sat on the sticky bar stool in Rousseau's as the loud jazz music washed over her, Keelin was just about ready to give the self-righteous ancient witch an almighty slap for how she had just treated her.

As she had been leaving her job interview earlier today, at St Theodora's Health Clinic in the 9th, Keelin had been attacked by a large group of strangers, all of whom had seemed intent on violently ending her life. However thanks to the bewitched ring that Freya had given her a couple of weeks earlier, she had been able to tap into her wolf nature to boost her strength and reflexes. Keelin had successfully fended off her attackers and escaped, though not completely unscathed. The mob had managed to get a few good blows to her face and ribs before she could injure enough of them to provide a clearing to escape through.

On returning to the Quarter she had come looking for Freya here at Rousseau's, as they had made arrangements earlier in the day to meet at the lively club for a midnight drink. The bar manager - who she could see was still nervously watching her out of the corner of his eye whilst he served another thirsty patron - had eventually told her that Freya was up in his apartment, apparently attempting to hold a dangerous witch captive.

As Keelin had entered the loft, she had seen that Freya was alone and unconscious on the floor. Unbridled panic and fear had instantly washed over her as she ran to her friend's side to check for a pulse. Freya had been dead. There had been no heartbeat pushing against the frightfully cold, unmoving woman's neck, and Keelin's eyes had widened in horror at the realisation. Thankfully, all her years of medical experience had instinctively taken over, and she had quickly performed emergency CPR, eventually bringing her friend back to life with a sudden gasp for air.

Greatly relieved, Keelin had been trying to check that Freya was medically stable, when the ever determined witch had muttered something about one of her spells failing, and run off out of the apartment. Just like that - gone!

Worried and confused, Keelin had hastily followed Freya back to the Mikaelson's home, where they had been met by a horrific scene of blood and carnage. Bodies and the severed limbs of various people had been strewn across the whole of the compound's courtyard, and it had been instantly clear to Keelin that all of them were no longer in the land of the living.

And that was when it had happened.

Keelin had discovered that one of the lifeless forms on the cold stone ground had belonged to Hayley, and had shouted Freya over to help her move the Hybrid into a better position to heal. But as Freya had come to her side, the witch had roughly pushed Keelin out of the way, and harshly told her to leave, implying that she was just getting in the way. As though Keelin was suddenly nothing but an annoying irritant that Freya just needed rid of. It was like the past couple of weeks of their growing friendship and warm moments, had never happened. Like they were abruptly back in that Bayeux barn, with Keelin shackled up to the venom extractor, and Freya looking down upon her with hard, calculating eyes.

She had of course tried to protest, but Freya's cold resolve had been unmoving. It was though Keelin had no longer been there - an insignificant background distraction that was simply to be ignored until it disappeared.

With tears threatening to betray her eyes, Keelin had reluctantly left both the compound, and Freya behind.

And now here she was. Sat at the bar in New Orleans liveliest establishment, nursing her 4th tequila of the evening, whilst she tried in vain to make sense of the hurt and anger that was ravaging through her. She could feel that her wolf body had already finished healing away the various cuts and scrapes that had been left on her face from the earlier encounter outside of St Theodora's. But no supernatural restorative power could remove the injuries that her heart had just suffered so suddenly at the hands of the girl she had spent so much time with over the past month.

The Viking witch could be so infuriating. Always so determined to keep everyone at arm's length. Always so certain that her family's needs had to come before her own.

Keelin had watched Freya continuously push the outside world away in favour of tirelessly working to protect her brothers and niece. Often at the cost of the witch's own health and happiness. But over the past few days, Keelin had genuinely believed that she was finally starting to make small steps of progress in helping Freya see that there could be more to life than just death and destruction. They had actually been having fun together. A few stolen moments here and there, when the powerful witch had truly relaxed in Keelin's presence, and showed her softer, fun side.

She again found herself smiling, despite the hurt rumbling inside. Freya's laugh had a certain way of disarming her every time she had the pleasure of witnessing it. Keelin knew that there was an aspect to Freya's personality that the witch tried her upmost to subdue, in fear of it hindering her ability to be the ever protective big sister. She had seen it. And she had been secretly encouraging it.

Why? That was the question now burning into Keelin's conscious – why was she so concerned about the Mikaelson's oldest member? This was someone who only a few weeks earlier had been intent on wreaking a great deal of pain on her. Just to further her own personal gain.

In truth, Freya had ruthlessly, and systematically tortured Keelin so that she could extract her wolf venom - knowing that it caused her extreme discomfort. All things taken into consideration, Keelin should have hated the enigmatic blonde.

She did hate her! How dare the witch just dismiss her like she was nothing. Like she was an insignificant afterthought who was easily discarded once her use had been exhausted. It was as though Freya had been completely unaware just how much Keelin had been thinking about her over the past couple of weeks. As though she was totally blind to the feelings that the Wolf had been increasingly pouring into their interactions. As though…..

"Seems to me like you are trying to drink away some heavy issues there, miss"

Keelin was abruptly dragged out of her inner monologue by the bar manager's unexpected address. He was stood right in front of her, looking somewhat concerned.

"Ah….yeah. Something like that".

Keelin quickly tried to gather some inner composure, as she avoided the patrons searching gaze.

"Look, it's probably not my place to comment on such things, but…"

The young man trailed off mid-sentence, as though he was searching for an indication that what he was about to say wouldn't cause further ire to the weary woman in front of him.

"….well I just think that a nice lady like you could do herself a great favour by not getting involved with that family!"

Keelin amusedly raised an eyebrow, and looked the young man directly in the face.

"Do I know you?"

"Well - no, not really. But I think we both have something in common regardless", Josh remarked as he began pouring Keelin her 5th tequila shot of the evening.

"Really? And what may that be", she gingerly enquired whilst watching the glass in front of her rapidly fill with liquor.

"That we are both better off without the Mikaelson family in our lives!"

Josh watched the woman's face outwardly flip through a full range of different emotions, all in a matter of seconds, before seeming to settle on one of bemusement.

"I'm sure I don't know what you are talking about", she replied to him. Though the look in her eyes told a different story.

"Ha. Well maybe you do, and maybe you don't", Josh amused as he watched her quickly down the shot before slamming it back down onto the solid oak bar. "But from one tortured soul to another, let me give you a piece of advice".

Keelin didn't quite know where the bar manager was going with this trail of conversation, but she was surprisingly intrigued none the less. The young man had certain aura of virtue about him, despite the onslaught of odours that her nose was currently fending off, which betrayed him as being one of the many vampires that inhabited New Orleans.

He seemed…oddly innocent.

"Nothing good will come from tying to be-friend the Witch".

Keelin's thoughts quickly sobered.

"I'm sorry, are you an acquaintance of the family's?" she asked him curtly.

"Well, let's just say we have crossed paths a few times over the past couple of years."

Josh made a start on topping up the once again empty shot glass in front of Keelin, whilst he waited for her to absorb his last comment.

Seeing that the brunette was beginning to slip back into her own thoughts again, he quickly followed up.

"I have to ask…are you really a friend of Freya's?"

There was a short pause, as she considered the many implications that his question raised.

"I….I don't know what I am to her."

Josh saw that tears were beginning to brim in the woman's eyes suddenly.

"I think we were friends, yes. And I….well I think that I wanted more too."

"Really?" Josh had to check the tone of his voice suddenly, as he realised that the surprise leaking into it could have been taken the wrong way. "I mean, not that there would be anything wrong with that, I mean, it's totally all cool in my book…."

Keelin looked up at the bar manager again, slightly tickled by his rapid descent into tongue tangled embarrassment.

"I mean…well what I meant to say is that, um….Freya? Really?"

She nodded at him gently, the hint of a small smile playing on her lips.

"Huh", Josh exclaimed. "I guess there really is someone for everyone one hey".

Keelin exhaled heavily, and returned to looking at the stained oak bar upon which her drink sat. "It doesn't matter anyway, not after tonight. She made it very clear that I'm just an annoyance to her. Threw me out of her family home like I was a nobody. Certainly not like I was the friend who had just saved her life!".

Josh studied the woman for a brief moment, realising that despite all the violence and drama that she had clearly been through this evening, the thing that was upsetting her the most, was the prospect of no longer being a part of the Mikaelson witch's life.

Sighing, he figured that notwithstanding his disdain for ancient Original family, the concept of heartache was something that he could certainly sympathise with.

"Does she know, how you feel about her?", he asked gently.

Keelin met his eyes, and a small tear ran its way down her right cheek as she finally gave in to the emotion that was building up inside of her.

"I've not exactly told her, no. I was going to, but then with everything that's been going with her family, and now with what has happened tonight, there's just not been a chance. And…well to be honest, I've been a little scared too".

"Scared? That she doesn't feel the same way about you?" Josh asked.

Keelin sighed.

"Yes."

3.

Freya was beyond the point of tired. Her body felt drained and weary, with every muscle aching as though she had run a marathon in just the last hour.

As she said her brief goodbyes to her family for the evening so that she could make her way up to the Bell-Tower and consult her grimoires, it finally hit her just how close she had come to dying at the hands of the Hollow's high priest, Dominic. She wasn't like the rest of her family, who were all cursed with immortality - the ability to shrug off death like the average guy shrugged off a paper-cut. When Freya finally died, that would be it, the concluding curtain call on the story of her life. There would be no second, third, or fourth act for her to re-animate in and try to improve on her past mistakes.

She had of course come into this life gifted with power, and a lot of it too. As the first born witch of a family already endued with great mystical energy, Freya had inherited an abundant amount of mystical clout from the blood of her ancestors. And thanks to a now expired curse that had been placed on her by her late Aunt Dahlia, she had had several centuries over which to hone her craft too, and cultivate her potent spell casting. But that life extending curse had expired along with the aunt who had cast it, leaving Freya every bit as mortal as the human body she had been born into.

A fact that had been made painfully clear that evening.

How had she let it get that close? Her plan had been solid – lure the high priest to Josh's apartment through the guise that Marcel was being held there, and then trap him within a small localised boundary spell, so that she could extract the whereabouts of the Hollow's 3 remaining bone pieces from him. By force if necessary!

And she had succeeded in trapping him too, his ability to escape disabled and his magic immobilised by the ring of cursed talismans that she had enclosed him within. Freya had been in the process of demanding that he explain what the meaning of the phrase "Apesai" was - when he had said one solitary word which had shocked her out of focus.

Keelin.

He had unexpectedly claimed to know about the Malraux wolf, and her connection to Freya - insinuating that he had sent a group of the Hollow's followers to ambush and kill Keelin, outside of Theodora's Health Clinic where she had been interviewing for a job.

And for the first time in Freya's life, she had panicked and lost focus. The thought that Keelin might have been in mortal danger whilst Freya was far away and unable to protect her, had damn near paralysed the witch. Cold, piercing dread had flowed through her body, as she demanded that Dominic tell her more details. She had then rapidly angered when he had refused.

It was that anger which had nearly cost her everything.

How could she have let herself become so unfocused like that? Her family's home had been under a boundary spell that she had cast earlier that day, linked it to her own life-force as per the usual requirement for such a spell. When she had been busy tormenting about Keelin, the witch Dominic had gotten the upper-hand and caused Freya's heart to stop beating, knocking her out cold in the process. Consequently the boundary spell had fallen, allowing the High Priest and numerous more of the Hollow's followers to enter the compound and terrorise her family. Had it not been for the quick thinking of Marcel, her young niece Hope would have been discovered, and….no, she couldn't bring herself to visualise what horrors the poor child would have had to endure at the mercy of the Hollow and its followers. And it would have all of been Freya's liability, for putting someone else before the needs of her family. For losing focus on her sole responsibility to protect her brothers and niece.

For caring about Keelin.

She and the Malraux wolf had certainly become closer over the past few weeks, she could no longer deny that. Despite having been kidnapped by the Mikaelson family, and despite all the pain that Freya had made her endure, Keelin had selflessly helped her day and night to produce a cure for Marcel's venom. Then subsequently she had also aided Freya in crafting the dagger which would enable her brother Klaus to kill the self-proclaimed King of New Orleans. In doing so, the wolf had made Freya begin to question her own actions, and treatment of other people.

And that essentially was the problem. Keelin's influence had been making her listen to a conscious that had never been there before. That she had never wanted.

Freya had spent years being the ruthless older sister, forsaking all to protect her family. She had lost count of the number of hard-hitting and morally doubtful decisions she had had to make, all in the name of shielding her kin. And all without putting much thought into the consequences that those actions might have on her soul.

5 years ago she had sent young Davina to a premature grave, casting the witch into the beyond so that she could harness the resulting power surge and bring her brother Finn back from the grave. She had held no particular grudges against the adolescent witch, and certainly would not have called her an enemy. But the fact had remained that the only way to obtain the level of power Freya had needed to cast the resurrection spell for her brother, was to kill Davina. So she had, with unwavering conviction.

That was the level of mercilessness and commitment that was required of her. Her family had to come first. Always and Forever – it was their motto to each other. One that Freya intended to uphold until the day she died. She couldn't let anything come in the way of that. She had to be the strong and hard older sister. The one who they could depend on to have their backs and to protect them, even if it meant putting all of her own needs and emotions aside.

Even if it meant letting go of Keelin.

That last thought bit down hard on her emotions, leaving a disagreeable taste in her mouth that physically made her wince. As Freya left the compound's grounds, and began to walk down the Quarter's main street towards the Bell Tower, she found herself unexpectedly torn between the familiarity of her ruthless family commitment, and a blossoming feeling deep within her, that she now realised had been growing slowly over the past couple of weeks.

The reason Dominic had been able to distract her so easily and come so dangerously close to killing her, was that he had correctly fathomed her one weakness. One that had only just recently materialised. She was beginning to have feelings for Keelin.

No! She could not let that happen. Would not!

They had just been spending a lot of time together, that was all. Of course she was going to have become friendly with the wolf. After everything they had accomplished together over the past month, day and night spent in the Bell-Tower researching ways to bring an end to the threat of Marcel's venom - it was only natural that she would feel a certain comradary towards Keelin. But that was it.

She could not let careless mistakes like this night's mess happen again. Feelings or not, she refused to let the confusion inside of her take control of…..

"Freya?"

The witch slowly looked up from the ground that she had been glaring at whilst walking, lost in her thoughts.

It was Keelin. She was slowly making her way in Freya's direction, from across the street.

"I assume your family is ok?"