The Harvest , a ritual that the covens of New Orleans had partaken in during many different centuries, but there was never anything that had recorded it, just myths and legends that had been passed down from generation. A story that Davina had been taught when she was younger, something that she thought was a blessing before she had been cursed to hold the title of Harvest Girl.

' the Harvest was supposed to be a ritual performed by the coven, a replenishment of magic to the ancestors. '

the words slipped out easily, the sound of betrayal evident in her tone for she wasn't sure how else to sound about it, how they had played her up to be some kind of princess, a hero, a warrior. But had brought her down to some kind of victim, a sacrifice. They were just kids, just witches who had believed that they were doing something good, but had soon realized that their naivety had gotten the best of them. That it was too good to be true that they would be placed into a peaceful slumber to be awakened. It was then that Davina had learned that most of what she had learned, most of what she had been taught was a lie.

' and this ritual, what had to happen in it? '

the male had asked carefully, his eyes trained on her as she attempted to gather herself, the room seemed to rattle slightly when she had talked about the Harvest, his hand moving to gently place over hers in an attempt to calm her down, but the room still continued to shake under them. ' you don't have to answer, but i do wish to know about the harvest when you are able to do so. ' and with his words she had shook her head no, chest rising and falling quickly as she tried to regain her composure, squaring her shoulders and pulling away from his touch to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.

' the four chosen ones, we had been told a story about how we would be put to sleep by a simple cut on our palm. That we would sleep as the magic moved from us, into the ground and back into our bodies. How we would be seen as some of the best and most prestigious witches in the Nine Covens. But they didn't tell us everything. '

the male had continued to look at her, to gauge her reaction while telling the story in hope to finding any kind of lie in her story, but it had seemed all too sincere. that the struggles she had already gone through were ones that he wouldn't wish on anyone. To have their lives completely dictated by someone they had looked up to. How Esther had done the same to him and his siblings. he had stood up from the chair that he had been settled in, moving around it in hopes of easing himself, in the hopes of not allowing his composure to crack under the realization that the witches of New Orleans would happily sacrifice children. Whether it was to put them to sleep, or to slaughter them.

They were just children.

' did anyone speak out about the harvest ? ' Elijah asked with obvious curiosity and disdain, gaze falling upon the female, noticing the sadness that had lingered in her features as she spoke and in that moment he had realized that she had lost more than she was letting on. ' Moniques aunt didn't think the Harvest was real . ' Davina spoke with a sadness that was palpable, something that he had noticed, but it had dawned on him that maybe it wasn't just her innocence that was lost, but maybe something more. His movements were fluid as he had moved to sit on the edge of her bed, his gaze not faltering from her, this time easing up on observing her. A sense of empathy having surged through him for her.

' Sophie Devereux. She is a witch in the Quarter, she tried to stop it and didn't succeed. ' she didn't want to get into more detail about the harvest festival, feeling the tears starting to burn the back of her eyes, wanting to erase the memories from her mind and to go back to being that naive little girl who had believed that the coven she had been born into had higher moral standings. that they would see that they weren't old enough to go through this for their lives had just started and they were without blinking moving to remove their lives for their own magical gain.

' the ritual had started, the first girl went up and - ' davina swallowed hard as she ran trembling fingers through brunette tresses, watching the male through blurred vision, burning hot tears streaming down her cheeks in this moment, hating the weakness she had felt. ' they had no good intentions for us. They.. they planned to slaughter us, to slit our throats and my own mother hadn't even flinched, didn't even try to save me. '

the words cracked as they slipped out, unable to get through how much it had hurt when her mother had turned her back on her daughter being brought up for the kill, seeing that she had cared more about the coven than her own daughters life and that is the moment when she had realized she was really alone. that was the moment that she had found herself lost, abandoned, broken.

' Marcel saved me , he got there in time to save me and hid me in this attic. I owe him everything. I'm not ready to die. '

Her words reverberated through him with a sort of sorrow, a guilt that someone would do that to anyone, but then again he had felt the same sting from his own mother. Her having gone through with turning them into what they were, taking their lives and making them into monsters and he had understood her pain, her sorrow and her inability to feel like she was whole anymore. He had many lifetimes to get through the pain and become aware of who he was and what he had to live with, but she was only nineteen years old and had the weight of the world on her shoulders.

' and the witches want to find you to complete the ritual . what happens if they don't complete it ? '

he didn't want to ask, he didn't want to hear the answer to the question he had asked, but he had to know, he had to know if there was an end where they would stop hunting the petite witch that had hid in the attic as if her life had depended on it. and from the story she had told, it did depend on it, her entire existence was at risk because the witches had wanted the power that had coursed through her veins and they wouldn't stop until they had it.

' The Reaping . '

the words were enough to make Elijah shift uncomfortably on the bed and the way he had moved was the first time that Davina had seen him move in a way that didn't seem preplanned or calculated. How even she seemed to cause him to be unsure of the things that had happened in this city, of the witches blood that had stained Lafayette Cemetery. She had believed that the witches were the good guys and that every other being was to be hated, to be feared and fought but she hadn't realized that the real enemy had shared her blood, who had slept in the same house as her, who had cast spells alongside her.

' If I am not sacrificed, the reaping will happen and all the magic will drain from the witches. I can finally be normal. '

' and is normal what you wish to be, Davina Claire ? ' he questions as he stands up again , moving to the record player that had stopped playing, methodically fiddling with the needle before placing it on the record, hearing Mozart hum lazily through the amber infused attic that the witch had resided in. his curiosity had spiked with the female who had been on the bed, a sort of wish to protect her bubbling towards the surface, wishing to keep her safe and not only from the witches, but from Marcel and being used as a tool in the war that was brewing.

' I don't want to be this. I hurt people, I break everything I touch. If the magic is gone, I cannot hurt anyone. '

she spoke with a sigh, pulling her knees to her chest as she rest her chin on her knees, her gaze having kept on the canvas that she had been drawing on the day prior before Marcel had visited her with the update on Elijahs body. Elijah opened her mouth to respond, to tell her that her magic if controlled correctly wouldn't hurt anyone unless she had wanted, he wanted to offer her help, but the sound of the church doors opening had him looking at her with a soft smile.

' Davina Claire, I wish to help you. Not only against those who wish to harm you, but those who wish to use you as a weapon. I want to help you control your powers and keep you safe. Marcel is coming, you can tell him about this encounter or you can keep quiet and we can continue this conversation later. '

His words had her eyebrows furrowing slightly as she listened to him, wanting to believe him but in this moment she wasn't sure who she could believe. But then he was gone, hidden in the shadows and before she could break her thoughts of where the male had disappeared to, the knob of the door was turning. Cerulean hues moved over to the table where the dagger had laid and she had moved to pick it up quickly, sticking it under her pillow in the hopes of concealing it, placing herself at her canvas, pretending that she had been focusing on her work instead of the alternative of speaking to the male who had wished to save her. the male who should have been settled within the box.

' hey D, I found some books for you . '

Marcel spoke with a grin as if he was proud of himself, placing the books on the table where the dagger had once laid, thankful that she had moved it, but still in that same thought she wasn't sure if she should tell him about her conversation with the Mikaelson. Swallowing hard she had watched as he had moved to the coffin, about to lift the lid. Panic rose up her throat as she dropped her charcoal and called out to him to not touch it, stammering slightly at first before regaining composure.

' N-No , Do-Don't do that! ' She cleared her throat. ' I am working on something, if you touch it i'll have to start over again . '

part of her wondered why she had protected him, but she had wanted to know more, wanted to believe that maybe he could help her since it seemed as if she was locked up in the attic with nothing but being told to sense if someone was using magic. She wasn't sure what her use was, or what she had been to Marcel, but she had wanted to be more than just an object for people to use at their disposal.

' Have you felt anything ? Anyone using magic in the quarter? ' she shook her head as to reply to his question, moving back to draw on the canvas, smiling at him when she had felt like he was a little too curious on what she had been thinking about. He moved languidly over to her, his arm resting on top of the canvas as he took in her expression, looking over her for some kind of silent explanation of what was going on. ' The spell i am working on just took a lot out of me. I am going to nap soon and hope it wears off soon. Don't worry about me. '

' I will always worry about you, D. '

and with that he had smiled at her, promising to stop by later after she had slept to check in on the original, wanting to see what she had cooked up with him. and when the door had closed, she had moved to sit on the edge of the bed, letting out a deep breath of air, leaning back against the bed as she tried to regain her thought process, wanting to know what she was to do in that moment that she had betrayed the person she had owed everything to for someone she didn't know, for someone she had only heard things based on legends about.

' you kept me a secret , why? '

his words were soft, but they were also laced with surprise, unsure why she hadn't told Marcel that he was awake, but he had to believe that maybe he had grabbed her interest with his offering to help her. eyes followed his moments for a moment, thinking about her next step before she had sat up and moved to drag the dagger from under the pillow. it had felt heavy in her hands, inspecting it before handing it over to him carefully as to not cut herself.

' I don't know what i'm doing here, but I know that I don't want to be afraid of everything in this city. '

finally admitting that she had feared the things that had walked the streets of New Orleans, the witches, the vampires, the wolves, even if they had been banned from the Quarter. that every moment she had been left to think about her life, about how she had been on the run and hiding, she had realized that she had been afraid of pretty much everything.

' you said you were not afraid of anything. ' eyebrows furrowed as he spoke to her, not mocking but a general curiosity.

' to be completely honest, Elijah. i'm afraid of everything. myself included. '