I've been going back and forth on the rating of this story because sometimes things seem a little too deep/mature/problematic for a 'T' rating for me (and I lowkey want to be a little deeper sometimes) but idk, what do you guys think. Is this story a 'T' or 'M'?
Chapter 75
Previously:
"Marcellus."
Klaus and Marcel paused just as they were about to walk into the kitchen. Klaus stretched his arm across Marcel's shoulders as he turned to face his brother himself. Elijah still had his back to them, idly moving logs around in the fireplace with an iron poker as he tried to get the fire going.
"Yeah," Marcel called back.
"Behave." That was all Elijah said but Klaus knew it was all that he needed to say as he felt his son's body go rigid in his hands.
Marcel burst through the kitchen door without another word to his Uncle, Klaus following close behind.
Klaus saw the instance as Marcel's shoulders slumped as he entered the kitchen, his fists clutched tightly at his side as if he were contemplating going back through the door and telling Elijah off.
He walked swiftly around his son and, without warning, he pulled Marcel's head against his shoulder. Marcel stiffened as Klaus held him, refusing to let go even when Marcel attempted to push him away.
"It's okay," Klaus whispered in his son's ear. "I know you're frustrated. And you're in pain. And it's making you want to lash out and that's okay. You can let it out with me, Marcellus. I'm listening, sweetheart. I'm right here."
Marcel's hand snaked slowly around Klaus's back as he pressed his face further against his father's shoulder. His eyes hidden from the world, he allowed his tears to fall.
"I hate him," he muttered into Klaus's chest. "I...I hate this whole damn trip. I...I wanna go home."
Klaus sighed. First his brother, now his son. He was beginning to wonder if the Hunting Trips truly were doing more damage to his family than help. But still, he had to be consistent.
"It's just one more day," said Klaus as he ran his hand gently down Marcel's back. "After tomorrow we go home."
Marcel broke Klaus's hold to look him in the eyes, his watery eyes holding only fury and determination. "No. I'm done. I want to go home now."
Klaus's eyes narrowed as his son made his stance. He knew two hundred years ago he would've given into Marcel's demand without hesitation. He was always so afraid of doing anything that would make his son timorous so whenever he stood up to him, Klaus stood down. But if the past few months with his son had taught him anything, it was that Marcel's confidence no longer needed to be stoked to keep from fading. His son was strong, and he wasn't afraid to show it.
"I said 'no', Marcellus," Klaus repeated, his voice unwavering. "We leave Monday morning and throwing a tantrum right now will change nothing other than whether you make this weekend longer for yourself than it has to be."
Marcel stood with his mouth agape. He didn't expect Klaus to be so resolute. "This..." His voice broke just above an irritable whisper. "Isn't fair."
"It most certainly is," said Klaus, with pride at his ability to stay unyielding. "You're just not used to things not going your way."
Marcel groaned as he eased himself down in one of the dining chairs. "Oh yeah. I'm not used to things going my way."
Klaus's pride dissipated as he once again remembered that the hundred years he spent with his son weren't the only years of his life.
With a sigh, Klaus pulled a chair up beside Marcel and sat in it, placing his hands on top of his son's knees as he said, "I know that it's hard. But I believe you can get through it. I just need you to stop lying to me, Marcellus. If this weekend has opened my eyes to anything it's how often and how easy it is for you to lie to me."
"You don't...listen," Marcel bit. "Yeah, I know that I was a teenager when I was turned but I wasn't a child. I survived wolves and witches and more in the century you were gone, Klaus. I built a thriving vampire community. And, yeah, I know they were a little wild and maybe I was a little immature in my responses to enemy threats but I...I'm not a child, Klaus. You have to stop treating me like one."
Klaus pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. He knew he couldn't stop treating Marcel like a child because he couldn't stop seeing him as one. Two hundred years old and his son still looked like the boy he tucked into bed for years. The boy who used to run to him after a nightmare or whenever his Uncle Elijah caught him misbehaving. The boy he used to snuggle with and promised to protect always and forever.
Klaus shook his head as he stared back up to Marcel's eyes. "I can't. I-I've tried, for a hundred years I tried, but...you are so young, Marcellus. I can't. I won't."
"I am not a child," Marcel barked. "I am as much a man as anyone!"
"I know." Klaus cupped his hand behind Marcel's head and leaned forward, placing a soft kiss against his forehead. Then, pressing their foreheads together, he muttered, "But I've never been one to care about the thoughts and lives of everyone else. You are my son. I decide what's best for you."
Marcel pushed Klaus away from him, his face contorted into an unforgivable scowl. "You can't decide anything for me. I am-"
"A man." Klaus stood and walked over to the fridge, obviously finished with the conversation. "I know. You spent a century proving it to me. Be that as it may, you are still my son."
"And what if I decide I'm done taking your orders?"
Klaus sighed. "You know what will happen if you disobey me, Marcellus."
"What if I decide I'm done taking your punishments too. What if I say I'm done with all of this. Done with being ordered around, done with being treated like a child, done with all of it. I can go to a new city. I can start a new vampire community somewhere else. I don't have to be a Mikaelson anymore if I don't want to be."
Klaus looked back at Marcel, taking in his fury with quiet contemplation. Marcel had already confessed to him under compulsion that he didn't want to leave his family. That didn't mean he wouldn't leave in spite, just to prove a point. He'd abandon them, hurting himself in the process, all because of his own frustrations.
"No." Klaus stated firmly as if answering a question.
Marcel gritted his teeth. "I wasn't asking for permission, Klaus."
"Perhaps not," Klaus walked over to the table, standing inches from his son's face. "But I let you denounce your ties to this family once before and it was the worst mistake I ever made. I am one to learn from my mistakes, Marcellus. Ask your pal Kol what extent I'll go to to keep this family intact."
Marcel flung himself from his chair, staring Klaus in the eyes as he growled, "You wouldn't dagger me."
"I won't. But as long as Mikael is roaming this world, if you try to leave the safety net I built for you, I will find you, I will thrash you where you are, I will slaughter your baby vamps in front of you and I will drag you home, kick and screaming if need be, because I will have you hate me for centuries before I have you dead. Do you understand me, Marcellus?"
Overflowing with anger, Marcel kicked his chair with enough force to shatter the leg and stormed out of the kitchen.
Klaus simply sighed. For a brief moment, he wondered if he'd gone too far. But in the same instant, he knew he didn't care.
He started cleaning the remnants of the broken chair and decided to leave Marcel's current attitude to Elijah.
Flashback
Marcel stood outside the parlor door, attempting to remain as quiet as possible as he listened in on the meeting happening inside. He'd seen the humans enter the Compound from the library balcony and wondered why his father had invited them to their home when, as far as he knew, no faction meeting was scheduled for the night.
Unbeknownst to Klaus, in the eight years that Marcel had been with their family, the boy had become quite the sleuth. He listened to his father and Uncle whispering in the night and badgered the servants for any information they might have, so whenever there was a faction meeting happening, Marcel knew. But there was supposed to be none that night.
Marcel leaned closer to the closed door, silencing his own breathing so as to hear their hushed tones.
"No time for formalities," Klaus immediately said. "Let's get straight to it, shall we. According to the witches, one of the girls on your plantation has shown an aptitude for magic. You know what that means."
There was grumbling on the other side of the door and then one man said, "Fine, the witches can have the girl. But her parents stay with me."
Elijah tsked loud enough to carry through the door. "You know we cannot let that be. Either one or both of the girl's parents evidently come from witch lineage and are, therefore, free. Those are the terms of our agreement. The goings-on of the human faction does not interfere with the lives of the other factions. If it does, then my family and I must step in and set things straight. Whatever means that might entail."
"Are you threatening to kill us, Mikaelson?"
"He is promising," Klaus quickly interjected. "To slaughter you and your entire family should you continue to hold the girl and her parents hostage."
"She isn't even one of their witches," one of the strange men bellowed. "I bought her mother from one of the Islands and the father from the Carolinas. Whoever they are, they are not New Orleans witches."
"Witches none the less. Should they choose to return to their home cities or convert, the point still is and will always be, the choice is not yours to decide."
Elijah's voice rose through the silence they followed. "We will have a servant come with a carriage in the morning to pick them up and take them to an undisclosed location where the witches will come and invite them to join their coven. Should any harm befall either the child or her mother and father between now and then, I can assure you...justice will be dealt, promptly and surreptitiously. Have we made ourselves clear?"
The men grumbled their acceptance.
Marcel could not believe his ears. It was just that easy. His father and Uncle could free all of the enslaved people in New Orleans by simply making a threat. If that was all it took, why hadn't they already done it?
He was so distracted with his own thoughts, he didn't hear the footsteps coming to the door until it was too late. The door opened and the two humans walked out first. Marcel recognized them from previous meetings. Jonathan Cambre and Erwin Savoie.
Jonathan stared down his thick, blonde beard at Marcel with sharp blue eyes that held all the fury of a properly chastised man who was not used to being put in his place.
"Ain't you the Governor's old..." Jonathan looked up to Klaus and Elijah standing in the doorway, deciding to watch his mouth before he did anything to insult the supernatural beasts before him. "Boy."
"Marcellus is my son," said Niklaus.
"And I'm not a boy," Marcellus added.
Both Jonathan and Erwin were surprised by Marcel speaking up. Any black person on their property who dared speak to them with the fearlessness he'd just spoken to them with would've been beaten and killed without a second thought.
"That is true," Klaus said with a bit of sadness in his eyes as he tapped a finger gently beneath Marcel's chin. "He is becoming quite the man. He's even started courting Princesses from the wolf and witch factions."
Jonathan snarled a lip and grunted, "Just keep him away from our women."
"Mr. Cambre," Niklaus's voice was sharp as he kept his eyes focused on Marcel. The look of anger and disgust mounting in his son did not go unmissed by him. "That is the second time you've dared to insult my son under his own roof. I shall ask you to leave now before I am forced to disgrace myself in front of him."
"Gladly."
"And don't come back," Marcel spat as the men turned to leave.
Jonathan, once again taken aback by Marcel's audacity, turned back to him in hast and barked, "What the hell did you just say to me, little n-"
The word had barely touched his lips before he found himself laid out on the ground.
Marcel shook his hand as his reddening knuckles radiated with the pain of a person who was not used to punching other people.
Erwin's eyes widened in shock at Marcel's reaction. "Why you little," Without thought, he reached down to the gun holstered on his belt but before he could move to draw it, a hand clasped around his wrist and squeezed until it snapped.
Erwin fell to his knees, screaming in pain as he tried to pull his wrist out of Klaus's grasp but the Original was unmoved by his pleas.
Turning to Elijah, Niklaus said, "Do they both have children?"
Elijah nodded nonchalantly, as unbothered by the screams as Klaus was. "Ronan Cambre is 23 and I believe Mr. Savoie's eldest son turns 20 in a few months."
"Good. Then they are old enough to take their fathers' places in the Council." Klaus dropped Erwin's hand and turned back to Marcel.
He placed a hand over his son's shoulder and turned him away from the men writhing in pain before them as he walked him back down the hall towards the staircase. "I will go retrieve the witches myself after I tuck Marcel in for the night. You take care of these two and in the morning, we will inform their sons of their sudden rise in stature."
The sound of another bone-breaking drew Marcel's attention back to the men behind him but Klaus quickly placed a hand on his head and turned Marcel's eyes away from whatever his brother was doing to the ex-council members.
"You should be in bed," Klaus scolded lightly as they took to the stairs. "Bad dream?"
"N-No. I was...studying in the library. Poppa...is it true? Could you end slavery if you wanted?"
"Theoretically, I could," Klaus answered plainly. "But it's not possible."
"Why?"
Klaus stopped as they got to the second floor, his heart going out to the pain in his son's eyes, pain that he could put an end to but if he killed every slave owner in New Orleans or compelled them all to free their slaves, he knew such an anomaly - the existence of a free city in the Southern States - would make its way back to Mikael and he would come to find them again.
"It's simply...not possible, Marcellus. Things will work out. The humans always work things out themselves eventually. Just give it time."
"They don't have time, poppa!" Tears of anger streamed down Marcel's cheeks. "They are dying now. You don't know what it's like on those plantations. You don't know...you don't know what they do them...to us."
Klaus wrapped his arms around Marcel's body, pulling him into a hug that could never be tight enough.
Marcel sobbed against Klaus's shoulder. "We should all be free."
Klaus peered over the second-floor balcony, watching as Elijah supervised four servants carrying the dead bodies out of the courtyard, and wondered how he could make an entire city of slavers disappear overnight and not cause the same sort of uproar as he did with the Roanoke colony.
As he squeezed his shivering son, he knew he had to do whatever kept his son safe. Marcel might hate knowing that there were still people like him enslaved beyond the Mikaelson property line, but at least he would be alive to hate it. Klaus knew he couldn't do anything to draw Mikael to them.
"It's terrible," Klaus muttered. "I know. But we cannot interfere with human issues."
Marcel pulled away from Klaus, staring fiercely into his eyes as he said, "I am a human. If you can't do anything then I should."
Klaus circled his hands around Marcel's face and said, "You are a Mikaelson. You are my son. And I will not let you do anything to put your life in danger. Not for anyone."
"But-"
"I said 'no', Marcellus. End of discussion."
Marcel glared at his father with a rage he'd never felt for Klaus but behind that rage was pain and Klaus saw that clearer than anything. Marcel darted up the second flight of steps without another word and Klaus could do nothing but look on, hoping that someday his son would understand that his father's decisions were for his own protection.
End Flashback
Elijah was just finishing his call with Vincent when he spotted Marcel storming out of the kitchen. He slid his phone into his pocket and asked, as Marcel continued past him towards the front door, "And where are you going?"
"Out," Marcel answered curtly.
Elijah vamped in front of the door before Marcel could reach out for the handle. "I don't know if it the sudden influx of fresh air that has knocked you out of your wits or if you have fallen into a bout of teenage petulance but I do believe you'd better take the next five seconds to pull yourself together before you find yourself in a position you will regret."
Marcel's nose flared at Elijah's threat and at that moment, Elijah read his every move before he could make it. He caught Marcel's fist as he swung it at his Uncle's face and Marcel only grew more furious at being thwarted.
"Kol, Finn," Elijah snapped as he held on to Marcel's fist. "Face the corners, now!"
Neither Kol nor Finn knew How Elijah knew they were looking at him while his eyes were focused so intently on Marcel but they both pushed their noses back in the corner before he could repeat himself.
"Settle down, right now," Elijah growled. "I will not fight you, Marcel. You know exactly how this will end."
Biting his lip, Marcel pulled his hand from Elijah's grip and went for a knee to his rib but again, Elijah expected his attack and stopped it.
"Let me guess," Elijah stated calmly. "You got into an argument with Klaus but instead of talking it out, you've decided to brood about it."
Marcel jabbed at Elijah's nose and Elijah stopped his hand with the tips of his two fingers.
"And now, you're willing to risk the safety of your backside to prove a point. And...what point might that be exactly?"
"Shut...up," Marcel gave a series of quick punches precisely aimed at every vital organ in Elijah's torso but the Original blocked every single one.
Elijah ended the flurry of punches by grabbing both of Marcel's hands into both of his. "Enough!" Elijah suddenly dragged Marcel over to the sofa, the younger vampire struggling against his hold as he sat on the sofa and pulled the teenager over his lap.
Marcel thrashed against Elijah's lap at the man pressed one hand against the center of his back and yanked his sweatpants down his thighs with the other.
"I don't know what has gotten into you, Marcellus," said Elijah as he began raining down spanks across Marcel's already bruised backside. "But I have had enough. If you want to resort to tantrums like a child instead of talking your feelings out, then I will help you resolve your problems like a child."
Marcel yelped into an accent pillow after every firm smack, the tears coursing down his face drenching the pillow, still damp from the last time he cried into it.
Elijah landed barely a dozen smacks across Marcel's cherry bottom before he stopped to examine it. With as bruised and welted as Marcel's bottom was, he couldn't understand why he would ever decide to get himself in more trouble already.
"Are you ready to tell me what this tantrum is about?" Elijah asked, the threat of more smacks should MArcel fail to cooperate unhidden in his voice.
Marcel squeezed the pillow tighter. He didn't want to talk to Elijah but he also didn't want to incur more spanks. "I-I'm sorry." He muttered an apology, hoping doing so would put an end to his torment.
"That's not what I asked, Marcellus." Elijah sat his hand gently on top of Marcel's throbbing mounds and the young vampire whimpered, burying his burning face in the pillow. "What has you angry?"
Elijah got only soft whimpers as an answer.
He lifted his hand from the roundest part of Marcel's cheek and sat it carefully down on his tender sit spot. Marcel knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he could not endure another heavy-handed assault.
"Klaus." The name fell from Marcel's lips, not as an answer to Elijah's question, but as a plea.
Elijah was not surprised to look up and see his brother standing over him, having vamped out of the kitchen the moment he heard his name being called. He held a finger up to Niklaus, stopping him before he could interfere with Marcel's punishment as he knew his brother wanted to.
"Marcellus," Elijah stated calmly. "I will ask you one more time and I expect an answer or this spanking will continue. What made you upset?"
Marcel gritted his teeth in anger but still, he muttered, "I...I wanna go home."
Elijah looked to Niklaus, expecting more context but his brother simply sighed. "Monday morning," Klaus repeated. "That's when we go home, Marcellus."
Marcel released his heavy heart into the pillow, sobbing without restraint.
Elijah lifted the hand that kept Marcel pent against his lap and eased his pants carefully back up his sore bottom with the other so that his father could lift the mewling teen into his arms and carry him over to the armchair.
Marcel dropped the pillow, preferring to bury his face in the crook of his father's neck as he sat in his lap, his sore bottom once again hanging between Klaus's knees as the man held him.
"I...I can't take anymore," Marcel muttered as his sobs quieted down.
Niklaus rubbed soothing circles against Marcel's back, kissing the top of his head before replying, "Then I suspect you will be on your best behavior for the rest of the trip?"
The heavy hitches in Marcel's chest kept him from speaking so he opted for a slow nod against Klaus's chest.
"Good." Klaus squeezed Marcel tighter against his chest. "And I do respect you as a man, Marcellus. I know that...it probably doesn't seem that way sometimes but I do. But...in my eyes, you are more than just a man or a vampire or a Prince or a King. To me...you are my son. And no matter how old you get, how strong you get, how powerful you become..." Klaus ran his hand down Marcel's arm and the man's hitched sobs softened. "You will always be my little warrior. And I cannot apologize for that."
-M-
Izzy sat on the floor of Freya's workshop studying an old Grimoire, taking notes from it into a new notebook in hopes that perhaps doing some extra studying will make up for her lost notes and maybe Vincent would believe she's still serious about her studies with him. She was skeptical about studying with the witch before, assuming that he, like everyone else she knew, with the exception of the Mikaelsons, was only helping her in order to get something in return. But it became clear only days into their training that Vincent wanted nothing from her. In fact, on the first day she came to train with him, the man treated her like a burden - a powerful young witch that he had to study and observe to ensure that she wouldn't get out of control and bring destruction to the rest of New Orleans.
But what annoyed her the most on that first day was how seriously he took magic.
"We are mere vessels," he told her. "By which magic flows into the world. It is not a game. We must always treat it with the uttermost seriousness."
He barely smiled or even let her take a break that first day but since, he'd gotten better since - thanks to Elijah's urging, she assumed. And sometimes he even smiled. He was one of the few New Orleans witches she liked and she didn't want him to start hating her because he didn't believe she was serious about her training.
"Izzy!" Oliver's voice squeaked from the doorway.
Izzy looked up just in time to see her little brother barreling across the room and leaping into her arms.
"C'mon," he said, gently tugging her shirt collar. "Mommy says it's time for lunch and we 'posed to help set the table."
"Okay, okay," Izzy laughed as she closed the Grimoire and stood, putting Oliver on the floor and holding his hand as they walked out of the workshop.
"We gotta tell Hope too." Oliver pulled out of Izzy's hold and darted down the hall before she could stop him.
Izzy groaned as she stared down the hall at Hope's door. She hadn't talked to the girl since they returned home. Hayley seemed pretty mad about Hope and Sebastian running off and she spent the entire ride from the cabin to Sebastian's house lecturing the two of them about being irresponsible and 'too big for their britches'. Izzy couldn't wait to get out of the car with them when they finally pulled up to the Compound but she did hear Hayley order Hope to go to her room and to stay there for the rest of the day. She wondered if that also meant staying there through lunch too.
"Hope," said Oliver as he abruptly pushed the door open and burst inside. "It's lunchtime!"
Hope could not end her spell quick enough before Izzy appeared around the corner next.
Izzy was shocked to see Sebastian sitting in the middle of Hope's floor across from the girl, both of them with red faces and dry tears on their cheeks.
"What are you doing here?" Izzy asked in confusion, certain that Hope's punishment definitely included not having friends over for at least the rest of the day.
Hope quickly waved her hand over the assortment of dark objects lying in front of her and the manifestation of Sebastian disappeared.
"Oh," Izzy leaned against the doorframe. "You summoned him with magic. Clever. You're just lucky I showed up and not Mrs. Marshall-Kenner."
"What do you want?" Hope mumbled. Izzy couldn't help but noticed the fluffy pillow underneath the other girl but she assumed it was for aesthetic purposes only. Hope seemed like the kind of girl who would demand a cushioned seat everywhere she went. "Come to yell at me about that stupid notebook again?"
"No," Izzy rolled her eyes. "I'm...sorry about that. I may have overreacted. I'm just not used to dealing with spoiled brats that often."
Hope huffed at the insult. "I'm not spoiled."
Izzy scoffed. "You're the most spoiled girl I've ever met."
"Am not," Hope jumped to her feet, crossing her arms over her chest as she stared Izzy down.
Izzy could not help being pulled into the childish screaming match. "Are so. Just look at this room." Izzy fanned her arm around the room from Hope's large bed to her state of the art computer and over to her closet full of brand new clothes. "I bet there ain't a thing on Earth you can't bat your eyes to your daddy and get before dinner."
Hope's entire face went pint at the truth of Izzy's statement. "S-So..."
"So, you're spoiled rotten."
Angry at Izzy's accusation but having no valid argument against it, Hope kicked the pillow on the floor across the room in hopes of hitting Izzy but instead, the pillow stayed low to the ground, slamming against Oliver's face and knocking him to the floor.
"Oliver!" Izzy and Hope ran to the boy's side.
Oliver sat on the floor, dazed after the pillow slapped his face but he wasn't hurt. Still, the girls fussing over him made him feel like he should've been hurt, and without rhyme or reason, he started crying.
"See," Izzy barked as she pushed Hope away from Oliver. "You're such a fucking brat!"
Her anger riling again, Hope shoved Izzy back, this time with a bit of power behind it, knocking the girl out of her room once and for all. "I'm not a brat." She screamed, walking over Oliver on the floor as she met Izzy in the hall.
Knowing that she couldn't overpower the girl's werewolf strength, Izzy decided on a preemptive strike before Hope could get to her. She lifted her hand and muttered a spell, slamming Hope against the wall across from her with her magic.
"What the hell do you two think you're doing?"
Hope and Izzy froze at the sharp bite of Davina's voice coming from down the hall. Izzy released her spell and Hope fell to the floor as Davina marched towards them.
"Sh-she started it," Hope immediately stammered.
Izzy cut her eyes across at the young girl and growled, "You hit Oliver."
"With a pillow," Hope barked. "I bet he barely felt it."
"Enough," Davina shouted, standing between the two of them with her hands on her hips. Turning to Izzy, she said, "I cannot believe you. What would Vincent say if he knew you were using your magic for a petty squabble like this?"
Izzy scoffed as she stood up straight. "Who are you? His lackey?"
"I'm his friend," Davina growled. "And I'll be sure to let him know that his apprentice uses the techniques he teaches her against children."
"She started it!"
Davina glanced over to Hope, still sitting on the floor and looking up at her with round, sad eyes as if she hoped Davina would believe she was as innocent as she looked. But Davina knew how easy it was to rile Hope up and she knew from experience that the girl was definitely one to start fights...and finish them if given the chance.
"No more fighting," Davina bit, pointing a sharp finger at both of them. "I mean it."
Izzy rolled her eyes and reached her hand out to Oliver. "Like I'm scared of you," she mumbled s the boy ran over to her, taking her hand.
Davina glared at the back of Izzy's head as she disappeared down the staircase.
Hope was back on her feet when Davina turned back towards her, tears welling in her eyes.
"You okay?" Davina asked concerned.
Hope nodded, her hands falling back to her still sore behind. "Y-yeah. She just...slammed my ass against the wall and...it's still not healed from...mom."
Davina chuckled as she draped her arm over Hope's shoulder. "You're such a little brat sometimes."
Hope stuck her bottom lip out in a pout and muttered, "'M not a brat."
P.S. I challenged myself to see how long I can go with writing a chapter a week this year so sorry if they sometimes end on a cliffhanger like this. It means I ran out of time lol (also, as always, not edited and I'm so so sorry).
P.S.S. Also, I know yall are ready to see more Davina/Hope/Oliver/Izzy and the others so there will definitely be more of them in the next chapter.
