Disclaimer: I own my characters ONLY. Any resemblance they hold to any existing characters or people anywhere is purely coincidental.
November 1, 1919
It is my hope that the one reading this journal is my descendant. I cannot be sure what year it is, or when anyone will find this, but I beg of you to read this journal carefully. It contains information, important information. My mother's family is very angry with her, and from what I understand, they have all died due to the Curse. Myself and my children are all that is left.
Lucas Rodriguez
Val sat back onto the floor, unable to do anything but stare at the leather-bound book in disbelief.
This was her great-great-grandfather's journal.
Lucas Rodriguez, the one who had left Europe and came to South America, the one whose mother had completely up and abandoned the rest of the family for reasons nobody else was ever able to understand. The truth had died with Lucas and his wife. And she was willing to bet that if she continued to read the rest of the journal, she'd find some hints as to the location of the family book.
She'd relocated to Mexico after about a week of staying with her siblings. As much as she'd wanted to start building up her new life away from Mystic Falls, she knew she couldn't. There was still a book, an important book, that needed to be found.
Val had given up nearly all hope of finding the ancient text about her family's history, but after finding out about Mikael's blood and soul inside of her, she knew she couldn't. If it was true, and if her ancestor had also gone through the same thing, she needed all the information she could get. She didn't trust Mikael or Esther; the witch was a pathological liar, and Mikael had fed her his blood and simultaneously lied about the effects. He'd been hoping it would kill her, was her best guess. She couldn't exactly ask him.
The next day, after a three-hour training session and a hearty breakfast of bacon, eggs, and coffee, Val settled onto a branch of the ceiba tree not too far from her grandparent's house. It was the one she used to climb as a child; she'd actually broken her left leg twice within three years because of her inability to stay on the ground. She softly ran her fingers over the bark and smiled before leaning against the trunk, one leg propped onto the branch while the other swung freely and opened the journal.
12 June 1916
Sofia and I continue to grieve the loss of Scarlett. She was not even a day old when the fever finally took her. She fought it so hard, too. The doctor marveled at how hard she struggled to stay alive. But I know better. She is a Rodriguez. If she'd only had more strength, she would have beat that fever. She would still be here with us.
Sofia is not well. I awoke to find her side of the bed empty last night, and when I went to find her, I found her sobbing in the nursery. She was praying, but I know that no amount of prayers will return our daughter to us.
I consulted the Text. The rules remain the same: We must produce another child. I know I have a duty, and I know that I'm running out of time. But every time I start to consider it, or think about bringing it up to Sofia, I see Scarlett's little face again. When she was fresh out of the womb, they handed her to me. She had her mother's beauty, but I could see the Rodriguez traits in the fire in her eyes. She would have made a brilliant huntress. The first female to carry on the name, I suspect.
The sun rises; I need to train. It has been my only solace, and Sofia has taken much more interest in it than before. I feel that maybe it would be good for her, learning to use the long-range weapons. Maybe it would help her.
Lucas Rodriguez
They'd lost their baby. Val's heart clenched. Hector and Ally were not her biological children, but the thought of losing either of them would be enough to make her consider removing her crucifix and flinging herself from a bridge. How anyone could live with that kind of pain, she would never know.
Most of the entries after that were of the same tone; Lucas went long periods between writing, but he wrote about training himself and Sofia. He wrote about their attempt to conceive another child, but none worked. Sofia appeared to be suffering under the death of her only child and inability to have another, and Lucas wrote about feeling powerless to bring her out of it.
But then, about two years and twenty-five pages later, she came across another entry that held a much different tone.
12 February 1918
We are so very blessed! Sofia announced her pregnancy last night, and the doctor has confirmed it this morning. When we found out, we both wept. The doctor tells us that the pregnancy appears to be developing normally, but Sofia should be careful. We've both decided she should stop training and focus on staying healthy. The nursery was beginning to gather dust; we could not find it in ourselves to take anything apart. It hurt too much.
But now, we spent today dusting everything off and preparing it for the baby. We cannot be sure if it will be a boy or a girl, but I do not care which. I only hope that this baby will be strong like his or her sister, with the will to carry on.
I don't think I can lose another child.
I have continued to read the Text. Mikael has not visited since that day ten years ago. A part of me wanted to ask him more questions, maybe even train with him as my mother told me that my aunt and uncle had, and their father and grandfathers before them. But my mother was horrified that he was there; she sent me to my room and forbade me from exiting until Mikael had left. When I finally spoke to her again, she refused to even mention Mikael's name.
I do not know why my mother feared him so much. If anyone has answers to help us, it's him. But on her death bed, she made me swear not to go searching for him. It pains me, but I will honor her dying wish.
I have the Text, and the crucifix. I can carry on the family name without his assistance. Maybe in a few years time, my descendants will meet him, and pick up the pattern again.
This section made Val pause. Mikael had mentioned that Lucas and Sofia had been the last members of the Rodriguez family he'd spoken to, but he'd never alluded to the apparent friction within the relationship he had with her ancestors. Lucas's mother, her great-great-great grandmother, did not seem to like the eternal hunter very much, and Val couldn't blame her.
Lucas mentioned 'the Text' quite a few times now, meaning that was probably what he called the book she was searching for. Frustratingly enough, though, she couldn't find any hints about its whereabouts. Katherine had told her she met Lucas and Sofia when they already had more than one child, so it looked like she was a few years too early to learn when they'd given it away, anyway. Val had actually considered going to search for the vampire after she left Mystic Falls but abandoned the idea early on. Katherine Pierce was one hell of a survivor, and for all her faults, incredibly intelligent. It would take months to track her down.
She moved on to the next entries.
30 September 1918
Sofia has given birth to a beautiful baby girl. We have named her Gabriella. Already, she is her mother's daughter. She did not come from the womb screaming like her sister did. Instead, she was so quiet and calm we feared she was sick. But the doctor has assured us she is in perfect health, merely a well-behaved baby. She rarely cries; instead, I often find her watching everything with wide eyes, wanting to see it all. She loves being held on my arm with her back to my chest so that she can see the world. The garden is her favorite, she seems to love the flowers.
Gabriella was born on the eighteenth, but I have not had much time to write. A newborn baby is a lot of work, and Sofia herself has been struggling. I know she thinks of Scarlett often. I find myself dreaming of the baby we lost, wondering what kind of warrior she would have been.
I must go; Gabriella is crying again, and Sofia needs to sleep.
Over the next week or so, Val's routine remained the same. Sleep, train, research, call Ally and Hector, research and train some more, then sleep again. Then wake up and repeat the process.
Her strength and speed were increasing. She'd already broken two punching bags and was training with stakes by throwing them at full paint cans. The sharp wooden assailants pierced right through the cans, embedding themselves into the paint. Her crucifix hadn't warmed up or warned her of any approaching Originals, meaning they were all probably still in the U.S., or Europe. She didn't care where they were, so long as they kept their distance.
Alaric's death still stung and haunted it her dreams. She often found herself plagued with nightmares of he and Jenna, begging for help as they were slaughtered by a shape she couldn't see. Then, they would transform, and Val would find herself running to save Hector and Ally from the same fate. But she was never fast enough.
It was about two weeks after she'd arrived in Mexico when it happened.
She wasn't sleeping; then again, she hardly ever did much of that anymore. Instead, the young huntress found herself sitting on the old window seat in her grandmother's room, clutching a mug of chamomile tea and watching the ceiba tree sway in the midnight breeze. Her phone buzzed next to her leg, but she made no move to pick it up. Instead, she waited until it was done and then picked it up, flipping it open to view the glowing screen.
Damon (6) Missed Calls
Elena (4) Missed Calls
Bonnie (4) Missed Calls
Stefan (5) Missed Calls
Jeremy (2) Missed Calls
Caroline (3) Missed Calls
Matt (1) Missed Calls
Val sighed, snapping the phone shut and letting it fall back onto the faded peach cushion. She meant what she said when she left: She was no longer a part of anything happening back in Virginia. Her chest ached a little when she thought about them needing her help, but she couldn't be in two places at once. And her family, past, present, and future, needed her.
Her tea had cooled way down, and she scowled a little as she sipped it. Standing, she padded softly into the kitchen, intending on replacing it with some scalding water and maybe a few sips of warm milk to help her nod off.
Grabbing the teapot, still warm, she'd only just started pouring it into her half-empty mug when she felt it.
The hair on the back of neck stood up, that needle in her mind whirred and spun, lighting up her sense of everything around her. The cracked kitchen window, the soft breeze, the fly buzzing around the stove and the scent of the chamomile.
And the large figure standing directly behind her.
CRASH!
Val flung herself to the side just in time for the heavy wooden ornament from the living room to smash down where her head originally was, carrying onto the kitchen counter and shattering the little black teapot. Its pieces scattered over the floor as she snatched up a wooden spoon and busted it over her knee, grunting as she drove the sharpened end towards the assailant's chest. He turned, though, causing her to slam it into his shoulder instead.
A large hand came up and hit her in the sternum with full force, sending her, airborne, into the living room. She shouted as her back met the wooden floor, using the momentum to roll onto her back and up to her feet. The figure, still shrouded in the shadows, yanked the spoon from his shoulder and flung it at her.
The bloodied tip hadn't quite brushed the fabric of her holey t-shirt when her hand came up and clamped down on the handle, stopping it in its tracks. Tilting her head to the side, she ran forward and planted her foot on the old recliner, leaping into the air and bringing the makeshift stake down towards her enemy with a shout.
But she was stopped short when his hand came up, clamping around her throat.
Val choked as she dangled in midair, the figures other fingers wrapped around her wrist. She struggled, snarling and growling, but the figure squeezed her wrist until she finally dropped her weapon with a defeated grunt.
"Wait a second." The voice, a young man's, made Val stop her struggling cold. The voice was familiar, tickling the back of her mind, in the furthest reaches of her memories. She narrowed her eyes, and the figure spoke again.
"Valentina?"
The hand from her throat disappeared and she dropped to the ground, her knees bending to steady her fall. Snatching up the spoon, she backed up a few steps, panting.
"Who the hell are you?"
The figure paused, then followed her footsteps, she matched his by stepping back until they were both in the living room, and finally bathed in the light from a nearby streetlamp. Val saw the figures face, and the breath left her lungs like she'd been punched in the stomach. Finally, she managed to find her voice, the words coming out in an incredulous whisper.
"Dad?"
It took her about thirty seconds to realize the man in front of her was not her father.
He looked almost exactly the same as she remembered. Black hair, the same heavily lidded amber eyes as hers. Sharp jawbone and high cheeks with ears that stuck out a little too much.
But the longer she looked at him, the more she saw the differences. Her father's hair had been straight and fine, always cropped close to his head. The man in front of her had thick, curly hair that didn't seem to sit tamed in anyway against his head. Her father had a thin scar on the left side of his face, right by his ear, that ran from his temple to the middle of his neck from a training accident with her grandfather. This man's face was almost completely smooth, free of any scars or freckles. Plus, his nose was a little crooked, and his eyes were spaced too far apart for her fathers.
This wasn't her dad.
"Who the hell are you?" She snarled, the fury and shock of seeing someone that looked so much like her dead father flaring up inside of her like a flame doused in alcohol. "How did you get in here?" She fingered the broken spoon, shifting on her feet, ready for him to attack again.
"Hold on," the man held up his hands in a surrendering motion, "I'm not going to hurt you."
"It's not me I'm worried about." Val flipped the spoon into a better position for fighting. "This is my family home, and you are trespassing. So, I'll give you ten seconds to explain before I shove this into your chest."
"My name is Lucas Rodriguez."
She didn't answer at first. She couldn't. All she could so was stare at him, nearly dropping the stake in her hand in shock. But it wore off even quicker the second time, and she shook her head, taking a threatening step closer. "I don't know who the fuck you think you are, but that isn't funny."
"It's true." The man told her, not backing down. "You'll have to forgive me for attacking you; I didn't recognize you as an adult."
"Lucas Rodriguez is dead." Val told him, still not willing to believe what this man was saying. "He died back in the 1900's. And I've never met you before in my life."
But the man didn't react how she thought. He pressed his lips together, then shook his head before looking down at the floor and back up at her. "Technically, yes. I did. But I came back as something else."
"Even if I did start to believe this," She responded, "I can't. No Rodriguez would willingly become a vampire."
"Who said I became this willingly?" The man whispered, and his answer stopped Val's next question dead. He sounded so… defeated. For just one second, the moonlight passed over his eyes, and the amber orbs looked so much older than the rest of him.
The stood in silence for a few more seconds, stifling the air between them, before the young huntress finally squared her shoulders and looked right at him.
"Prove it."
He looked surprised but didn't answer right away. Instead, he looked around the small house until his eyes finally settled on the leatherbound book that Val had left out on the couch after staying up all night reading. A small, bitter smile broke out across his face, and he shook his head.
"I see you've found my journal."
He started towards it, but Val immediately stepped in front of it, glaring at him. "Don't touch that. You still need to prove to me you're who you claim to be."
"Alright." The man shrugged. "My name is Lucas Rodriguez. I was born of Luciana Rodriguez and an unnamed father; after being alive for over a hundred years, I still can't find him. I know that the crucifix around your neck prevents you from being compelled or dying a supernatural death, and I also know," he tilted his head at her, face dropping in sadness, "you appear to have taken blood straight from Mikael's vein. Which is probably why you can handle me in a hand-to-hand fight."
Val stood there, lips parted, but shook her head, face creasing in anger. "No. No, that doesn't prove anything. You could have forced that out of someone, even the Mikaelson's knew-"
"Her name was Scarlett."
Val's words died in her throat. She stared at him in disbelief as he continued, running a hand over his face. "My little girl, my firstborn. The one who died before she even got to live. Her name- her name was Scarlett Sofia Rodriguez-Cano."
And that was where they found themselves. Seated at the worn-down kitchen table with the scratched wooden and crack in the middle. There wasn't any alcohol left, much to Lucas's chagrin, so they both had to settle for some horchata that Val had picked up a few days ago.
It had been silent for so long that Val was starting to think they'd never speak. She wanted to start a conversation, but how could she? Where did she start?
"How?"
It tumbled from her lips before she could stop it, but Lucas didn't seem to mind. In fact, he didn't react at all. He sat for a bit longer, fingering the glass in front of him and staring at the frothy white drink before speaking, his voice low and apathetic.
"That's a long story."
"Well, when?" Val continued, "I mean, I know you had three kids. Katherine said-"
"Katherine?" His voice was sharp enough to cut through the wood in front of them. He sat up, back ramrod straight. His amber eyes were burning, and he leaned forward. "Katherine Pierce? You met her?"
Val nodded, "Yeah. Back in Virginia, where I lived. She told me that she helped you and Sofia get away from Klaus. He didn't say much about you, my guess is he's still a little pissy about the whole thing."
"Klaus?!" Lucas was staring at her like she'd just turned purple and sprouted wings. "You met a Mikaelson?"
"I've met all of them. Mikael and Esther included." She told him dryly, sipping her horchata. "They snapped my neck and drained me a time or two."
"So, Mikael gave you his blood and you still didn't kill one of them?"
"Hey!" Val exclaimed sharply, sitting up and glaring at him, "That's pretty harsh judgement coming from someone who never even met one."
"No," Lucas shook his head, holding up a hand, "forgive me. That's not what I meant." He paused, then sighed and leaned back heavily into his chair, the old wood creaking loudly under his weight. "I guess it makes sense that you're confused. The story must have become quite diluted over the years."
"What story?" Val demanded. She was beyond frustrated with her ancestor's double meanings and ominous words; she was done with games. "Tell me everything."
Lucas paused a little longer this time, staying leaned back in his chair. They sat in silence for a few more moments. Long enough that Val began to think he was ignoring her now. Only the sound of the ticking clock pierced the air. But right as she was about to start demanding answers again, he spoke, his voice low and… sad.
"Have you ever wondered about your cousins, Valentina? On your father's side?"
She didn't answer at first, staring at him, wondering if it was a trick question. Finally, she spoke. "Um, no, I guess. My dad was an only child-"
"Yes, but he's not your only family, is he? Have you ever wondered about your grandfather's siblings, his aunts and uncles? Have you ever wondered why the Rodriguez line only ever trickled down one generation at a time?"
Val couldn't answer. Why didn't she know about more Rodriguez's? Her grandmother's side was massive; she often found herself losing track of all of her cousins and their children and their children's children. But now that Lucas was talking about it, she realized she'd never really thought about her father's side of the family. Maybe she'd assumed that since her grandfather hadn't mentioned his siblings, they must not hunt like he did. Or maybe he was an only child, as well.
Lucas must have read her mind or something, because he smiled ruefully. "It isn't because every generation only ever had one child. With the spell that created our bloodline came a curse. I'm sure you know that the witches wouldn't let something so powerful walk the Earth without limitations, even if they were meant to eradicate the Original vampires. They had to make sure the bloodline didn't grow too powerful, or they'd lose control. The Mikaelson's can't create more generations, and so we were met with a similar limitation.
"For every new generation, only one child can continue the bloodline. Only one child can carry the crucifix and hold the Text, and only that one child can procreate. The rest will die before they reach their thirty-first birthday. My son, Lucas, was the only one that survived. My daughters were unable to have children, and they died before they were even twenty-five.
"You are truly the last of us."
So, I really hope this didn't come across as a information dump. I like to think of it more as a lot of explanations, because now that Val is away from Mystic Falls and investigating her bloodline, we're going to get more answers about her family. We're also going to get more answers about Ally's father ;)
Val's little excursion on her own will only last a few chapters at the most; she'll return to Mystic Falls about halfway through season 4, but will leave soon after to set up the beginning of the Originals. When she returns to Mystic Falls, she'll have been trained by Lucas and ready to kick a certain vampire's ass.
I really hope you liked it! It's not super long because I wanted to ease you guys into it, and it's a pretty long explanation as to why Val's family is the way that it is. We'll get a lot more time with Katherine, and we'll learn who turned Lucas and why. We'll also see why there was so much animosity between Lucas's mother and Mikael, and why Val taking his blood isn't as good as she originally thought it would be. Anyway, I'll see you guys next time and I hope you enjoy it!