"Well," Rebekah said, glancing around at her brothers. They sat still, staring at the kitchen door after Freya left, barely breathing.

"Finn? Are we doing this by order of the oldest to youngest?" She said, nudging him.

Finn shrugged, focusing his attention on Henrik and smiling softly. "I'll go... soon..."

"Kol?"

"Hm... ladies first?" He joked half-heartedly, avoiding his sister's eyes.

"Cowards." She cursed jokingly, rolling her eyes and scoffing. Rebekah expected them to retort, say something, curse back, react. But none of them moved, not even looked at her. It was strange to see them all so still and quiet. Yet Rebekah could not judge them. Her mouth was dry, her lips trembled. She wanted to scream, cry and hide away, never talk to anyone again. But she needed answers. They all needed it.

"Don't worry, Nik." She said, trying to keep her voice steady. "We are all together now. We won't let him hurt you. Ever again..."

Klaus nodded, too shocked to meet her caring eyes. "What if that's not what he wishes to do..." Klaus muttered, more to himself than to her. "What if Mikael wants to..." He swallowed, wetting his lips and brushing away tears.

What else could Mikael want? Klaus desperately wished to say it out loud, make it true, pray for it to happen. But he didn't dare do it. It was too impossible to be true. It's a fantasy, one all the Mikaelsons dreamt, at some point. Only a fantasy...

"Well, then—then we will do something about that too..." Rebekah said uncertainly, raising her chin and gathering her courage.

Throwing a last glance at her brothers, Rebekah Mikaelson took a deep breath before marching to face Mikael.

"Rebekah..." Mikael muttered, gazing at her, a soft smile on his lips. "You look well."

"Whatever fatherly rubbish you're thinking to spit out, save it." She said dryly, her ferocious gaze burning through his soul. "Nothing you say matters to me."

"I see... I understand it, too..." Mikael sighed, lowering his gaze and staring into his half-empty cup. "Is there anything I can do to—to help you, now?"

"The daggers and the last of the white oak," Rebekah said slowly, studying her father's strange posture. "I don't want you using them on me or my brothers. Where is it?" She replied, tilting her head back and fixing her wrathful gaze on Mikael.

"You were never the one I was after," Mikael said promptly, almost instinctively. His voice was low and shy. "I know this is all...so complicated, but—"

"It isn't. It's simple. Nik is my family." Rebekah snapped back, her voice breaking with rage. "If you were after him, you were after me!"

"I only wanted—" Mikael said

"I know what he did... To my mother; what he did to all of us throughout the years..." Rebekah cried, even with her heart still broken by some of her brother's actions, she would defend him to her last breath. "But Nik was not born a killer. None of us were. You did this to us when you turned us into vampires... You destroyed our family. Not him."

Mikael lowered his gaze, avoiding her eyes.

She turned to leave, frustrated with how little she had to control her anger. Still, Rebekah was not ready to give up. Finding the last of the white wood and the daggers would help keep her family safe. She could do that at least, if only she could control her emotions long enough to dry her tears and get a proper answer out of Mikael...

"I know." He breathed.

Rebekah froze. She stood there, her hand raised to her cheek, tears wetting her nails.

"I know I failed you, my girl." Mikael sighed, swallowing. "I failed all of you, my children. I even failed Niklaus... of course I did... But you're right, Rebekah. Nothing I say now will matter to any of you."

Rebekah turned to face Mikael, warm tears mapping her face. Her father did not glance at her. But, for a moment, she thought his eyes held something of regret in them.

"There's no amount of pretty words that will make all your sufferings disappear." He went on, his voice calm and low. "And even if there were," he chuckled, "I believe we can both agree I was never one to know how to make pretty speeches..."

"Why are you bothering with it, then?" Rebekah choked on her tears. "Why bother with any of this? All these theatrics... And for what?"

"Because you deserved better. All of you... And because—," he stared at the gold arm-ring in his upper arm, smiling softly. "I have a feeling it will be over tonight. All of it... I hope so, at least"

Rebekah stared at him. She never wondered if Mikael enjoyed tormenting Klaus. She knew he was cruel, but she never thought about what he gained from their suffering. Though she was mildly glad to know he wasn't happy with his hunt. The only reason she could ever come up with for his actions was pride. Mikael's pride was his downfall; it was what made him hate the son he once loved and terrorize the children he said he would die to protect.

But, now, as Rebekah studied his face, she realized it could not possibly had been pride. No. A prideful warrior would never accept defeat. It had to be something else.

It was almost a comforting thought. Still, it brought up more questions.

"I never thought I would hear you say something like that," she whispered to herself. "You talk as though defeat would be an acceptable outcome..."

Mikael chuckled. "It is." He gazes at his daughter just in time to see her awed expression. "I should not have lived this long, Rebekah... Gods. I never wished to live a day longer than your mother... or Ansel..."

Rebekah gazed at him, perplexed. The sincerity in his voice threw her off guard. She expected anything from Mikael, but some sob story about how he loved their mother. She grew up knowing Mikael loved Esther. But it was before he knew of her transgression... the idea that her father kept on loving her mother even after everything, somehow, warmed her heart—only to break it.

Though it also ignited a strange new form of rage in her heart.

"Am I supposed to feel sorry for you?" She snapped as her rage grew stronger. "You made us miserable for a thousand years, all because of your broken heart? What about us? Our happiness? What about Nik's heart? Every time you found us—just your presence almost ripped it from his chest!" She cried; memories of her brother's terrified face plagued her mind. "What about when we were children? You always scared him—all of us. Nik cried in his sleep every time you yelled at him. And you knew about it! He loved you—looked up to you! He did everything he could to make you proud and you—you-;"

What did Mikael do? Rebekah choked on the words. You hurt him. She wanted to stay. The words played around in her tongue. Yet she could not bring herself to say it out loud. From deep within her own mind, a voice sweet and frail told her, "That would be a lie. Mikael would never hurt Nik." But how could she be so sure of that, when the memories—were those of her memories? How could she question her own mind like this?

Rebekah can not breathe. She held on to the kitchen counter, trying to steady herself.

Mikael remained quiet. Though a new emotion contorted his face. A gasp escaped Rebekah's lips. Her rage slowly dying out, a hollowness taking over her heart.

"I have never seen his face like this," she concluded numbly. "So full of, of... shame..."

"I failed him." Mikael whispered. The words seemed to burn his mouth. For an instant, Rebekah thought tears were shining in his eyes.

"You are not supposed to feel anything towards me other than hatred," he went on, barely able to keep his voice steady. "I understand that. I'm not asking you to forgive me, Rebekah."

"What are you asking, then?" Rebekah mumbled, more afraid than ever before to receive a truthful answer.

"I'm asking you to be happy, my girl."

"What?" the words left her lips softly; drowned in disbelief.

Mikael sighed. "I was a selfish father, Rebekah. If there is anything I learned over the years, it was that. I knew I had only three tasks as your father: keep you alive, teach you to survive, and make sure you all were happy. But—," his eyes drifted, a tearful light shining in them. "I forsake one of my duties, because I thought—I was scared—that I wasn't strong enough to manage all three and... I convinced myself it was best to see you all crying in your sleep than dead in the ground…I never gave you a choice about your life. And you deserve it—a choice. Just as you deserve to be happy... That's all I'll ask of you, now..."

Rebekah opened her mouth, but found she had lost her voice. She stared at Mikael. His tearful gaze seemed too impossible to be real... Yet there he was, smiling, telling her to be happy... right after he saved Nik's life...

"About the weapons—," He cleared his throat, glancing away. "All the white oak and daggers I could find are in a chest, in the room where I put the little girl." He smiled, his eyes remembering Hope. "It's all in an old wood chest. It's enchanted—the chest—once the night is over, it'll destroy all those weapons..." he sighed, raising his gaze to meet Rebekah's wide eyes. "By tomorrow, if anyone wishes to harm one of my children, they'll have to create new extremely powerful weapons from scratch... You are safe, my girl. Most of all, you are finally free to live your life... And be happy..."

She swallowed her tears, shaking as she marched out of the kitchen. Like Freya, she did not even spare a glance at her brothers. Instead, Rebekah ran to the chest her father had mentioned. She opened it and stared at the weapons until dawn; crying and muttering to herself: "How can I doubt my own memories?"

But, once the sun rose, bringing the terrible weight of a new day, Rebekah Mikaelson learned Mikael had one last terrible truth to bestow upon them.