Amelia sat on the balcony of the old mansion, savoring her morning coffee as she watched the hustle and bustle of the people on the street. The warmth of the sun against her skin brought a content smile to her face, and she leaned back in her chair, closing her eyes just for a second to fully immerse herself in the peaceful moment.
After a little while, Amelia reluctantly got up and went to get dressed. She threw on a pair of worn jeans and a comfortable t-shirt, pulling her hair up into a messy bun atop her head. She slipped on a pair of equally worn shoes and decided to explore the attic.
As Amelia climbed the creaky stairs to the attic, she marveled at the intriguing things she found inside. It seemed like artifacts from generations past had been stored away, forgotten by time. She stumbled upon a closet overflowing with old dresses, some tattered and worn, while others still looked brand new. Among them, a deep red dress with a daring slit caught her eye. Intrigued, she ran her fingers along the fabric, surprised at how soft it felt. She made a mental note to come back to the dress later.
Venturing further into the attic, Amelia's gaze fell upon an old rocking chair that seemed to belong in a museum. It exuded an air of history and mystery. As she turned her attention towards something in the back, a cloud of dust flew into her face, making her cough. Wiping away the grime, she gasped at the sight before her – a painting of Elijah Mikaelson, dressed in clothing from the 1800s. The fact that her family owned a painting of one of the Originals hidden away in the attic was both shocking and perplexing.
Swiftly, Amelia covered the painting with the cloth she had removed, her mind reeling with questions. She knew about the supernatural, but this discovery rattled her to the core. Deciding to leave the attic for now, she turned to exit when a loud thud startled her. She spun around and discovered an old book lying on the floor.
Curiosity piqued, Amelia cautiously approached the book, lowering herself to her knees beside it. The title "Book of Shadows" was embossed in faded gold on the cover. Her hand trembling slightly, she picked it up and left the attic, descending the creaky staircase. Just as she was about to step into the parlor room, a knock echoed through the house.
A frown creased Amelia's forehead as she strode over to the front door. As she opened it, she found herself face to face with a familiar face, none other than Nicklaus. Startled, Amelia instinctively slammed the door shut, leaning her back against it for support.
"Come now, love. You know if I wanted to hurt you, I would have done so already," Nicklaus's voice taunted from beyond the door. It sent shivers down Amelia's spine. Collecting herself, she took a deep breath before opening the door once more, cautious yet determined.
"What do you want?" Amelia asked, her voice laced with both defiance and curiosity.
"So hostile," Klaus responded playfully, placing a hand over his heart in mock offense. His eyes immediately fell upon the book Amelia held in her hands. "Where did you get that?" he questioned, the smile vanishing from his face.
Confusion washed over Amelia as she noticed his gaze directed towards the book. "What is it to you?" she asked, her curiosity growing with each passing moment.
"Tell me!" Klaus demanded, stepping closer to the door. However, an invisible barrier prevented him from entering the house.
"It's mine," Amelia stated firmly, her grip on the book tightening. She needed to assert her autonomy in this unpredictable situation.
Klaus's eyes narrowed as he absorbed her words. "You're a witch?" disbelief laced his voice. He had spent enough time by her side in Mystic Falls to know that she had never exhibited any signs of being a witch.
Amelia scoffed, rolling her eyes at his assumption. "No, I'm not."
Klaus observed her for a moment, realization dawning on him. "You're a Richard witch," he said, attempting to breach the barrier with frustration evident in his movements.
Fear washed over Amelia as she took a step back, the revelation sinking in. "You need to leave now," she warned, her voice quivering with a mix of fear and determination.
A mischievous grin spread across Klaus's face as he leaned against the door, trapping Amelia in her own home. "Make me," he challenged, his gaze filled with both amusement and authority.
Something within Amelia snapped. Instead of succumbing to her fear, she found an inexplicable surge of courage. She took a step forward, her eyes gleaming with defiance. "Okay," she responded, her voice filled with unwavering confidence. With that, she forcefully slammed the door shut.
On the other side of the door, Klaus stood in astonishment, a smirk forming on his lips. "Impressive, girl," he murmured before turning on his heel and casually descending the porch stairs. He cast one last glance up at the old mansion, wondering if Amelia truly was a Richard witch. If she was, things were about to become infinitely more complicated for him, and he already had enough on his plate.
Amelia had walked into the parlor and sat down on the couch, trying to shake the encounter with Klaus. What was he doing in New Orleans? And if he was here, did that mean the rest of his siblings were as well? She placed the book down beside her on the couch and reached into the pocket of her jeans, pulling out her cell phone. She knew who could give her some answers. She dialed Caroline's number and placed the phone against her ear, not having to wait long before Caroline answered.
"How are you doing?" Caroline asked, concern lacing her voice.
"I was good, until a few minutes ago," Amelia replied. She hesitated before continuing, "Klaus is here in New Orleans."
"He's what?" Caroline exclaimed with surprise.
"You didn't know?" Amelia asked, glancing down at the book beside her.
"No." There was a brief pause before Caroline spoke again, her voice filled with worry. "Maybe you should come home. I know your mom is worried about you being there all alone."
"I can't leave, not yet..." Amelia trailed off as Damon's voice interrupted the conversation.
"Is that Amelia?" Damon's voice could be heard in the background.
"Yeah, but you..." Caroline began before Damon cut her off.
"Hey..." Damon's voice replaced Caroline's. "You okay, red?"
"No. Klaus is here in New Orleans," Amelia told him honestly, her heart pounding in her chest.
"Okay, I'm coming to get you," Damon declared.
"Damon, I don't think he's going to hurt me. If he wanted to, he would have already done it," Amelia reassured him, her voice filled with a hint of hope.
"You sure?" Damon pressed for confirmation.
"I'm sure," Amelia replied, a small smile playing on her lips.
"Okay, but you will call me if anything happens. And I mean it, red," Damon warned her.
"I will call you, I promised. Tell Caroline I love her," Amelia said sincerely.
"What about me?" Damon teased, a playful smirk evident in his voice.
"Bye, Damon," Amelia said, unable to hide the blush creeping onto her cheeks. With that, she ended the call and placed the phone down on the table beside her.
She took a deep sigh before picking up the book and placing it in her lap. Carefully, she opened the front page and ran her fingers across the old, worn page. Turning the page, she found herself staring at what looked like a family tree of the Richards, spanning over 400 years. Her name was the last one written down. She ran her finger down the names, realizing that so many of them had died at a young age.
"Huh," she muttered to herself when she noticed that some of her ancestors had lived in Salem in the 1600s, and a few of them had died during the witch trials. She continued up the names and discovered that her family had arrived in New Orleans in the late 1700s, with roots that ran deep into the city's history.
Suddenly, Klaus's accusation echoed in her head, "You're a witch."
Amelia turned her head and looked towards the painting of her grandmother and grandfather hanging above the fireplace. She couldn't believe it. It couldn't be true, could it?
"No," she said, shaking her head defiantly, as if trying to deny her newfound reality. She looked back down at the book, and as she flipped through the pages, her eyes widened. Latin script filled the pages, and she groaned, realizing that she should have paid more attention when her mom had tried to teach her Latin as a child.
Flipping through more pages, she discovered that all the writings were spells. A knot formed in her stomach as the realization hit her. "Oh hell, I'm a witch."
Maybe Caroline was right. Maybe she should go back to Mystic Falls. Amelia made up her mind that she would leave New Orleans, but first, she needed to pay her respect to her grandmother.
Amelia was meticulously packing her suitcase, ensuring she had everything she would need for her departure the following morning. As she descended the stairs, her thoughts were filled with a blend of excitement and nostalgia. New Orleans, with its vibrant colors and rich history, had captured her heart, but things were starting to feel a bit overwhelming for her.
She slipped on her jacket and swung open the front door before jogging down the porch steps. The crisp morning air refreshed her tired mind, and she began making her way down the street. Passing a flower stand, she couldn't resist picking up her grandmother's favorite flower, a lovely pink rose. It would be a comforting presence as she ventured towards Lafayette Cemetery.
Amelia strolled through the cemetery, gazing at the weathered headstones that silently told stories of a bygone era. Some appeared ancient, their presence bearing witness to years gone by, while others seemed fresh and new. She was about to abandon her search for her grandmother's grave when a gust of wind caressed her cheeks, almost as if it was urging her to turn her head. And turn she did.
There, she spotted a mausoleum, the name "Richard" etched onto its entrance. A surge of hope and curiosity bubbled within her, urging her forward. Amelia quickened her pace and hesitantly stepped into the mausoleum. As she entered, an eerie silence fell upon her, and a chill crept up her spine. Pausing momentarily, she scanned her surroundings, half-expecting a sudden presence, but the cemetery remained serene.
Surrounded by rows upon rows of ancestral graves, Amelia's eyes finally found her grandmother's tombstone. Placing the pink rose on the flower holder attached to the grave, she extended her hand to touch the cold stone. "Hey, Grams," she whispered softly, her voice laced with a mix of longing and grief.
Unbeknownst to her, a voice responded from behind, "When Nick told me you were here in New Orleans, I didn't believe him. But here you are." Startled, Amelia spun around to see a blond figure leaning against the entryway of the mausoleum. It was Rebekah Mikaelson.
"Rebekah," Amelia gasped, astonishment evident in her voice. She turned fully to face the blond-haired Original, unsure of what to expect.
"You're a Richard witch ?" Rebekah inquired, her blue eyes narrowing with a mix of curiosity and skepticism.
Amelia furrowed her brow, feeling misunderstood. "No, Rebekah. I've told Klaus already—I'm not a witch."
An array of emotions flashed across Rebekah's face before she stepped closer to Amelia. Amelia instinctively tried to back away, but the cold marble of the headstone met her back, preventing her from retreating further.
Rebekah regarded Amelia with a mixture of empathy and regret. "Do you really think I would hurt you?" she asked softly, her voice tinged with genuine concern.
Amelia hesitated, uncertainty clouding her eyes. "I don't know, are you?" she challenged, raising an eyebrow in defiance and self-preservation.
Rebekah clasped her hands together, her expression pained. "You remind me of her, you know. That's probably why Elijah had a soft spot for you."
Confusion and longing welled up inside Amelia. "Remind Elijah of who?" she questioned, her voice tinged with both intrigue and trepidation.
A sense of weariness washed over Rebekah as she sighed, realizing that Amelia was truly unaware of her lineage. "You really don't know, do you?" she mused, her voice filled with both sadness and understanding.
Amelia, feeling exasperated by the cryptic nature of the conversation, let out a frustrated sigh. "You know what? I don't care because I'm leaving," she declared, determined to put an end to the mysteries that seemed to follow her.
As she attempted to make her way past Rebekah, the Original swiftly grabbed her by the arm, gently but firmly restraining her. "Just come with me, Amelia. Let me explain everything to you. And if, after hearing the truth, you still want to leave, I promise I won't stop you," Rebekah urged, her voice resonating with sincerity and compassion.
Amelia stood there, her heartbeat echoing in her ears as she weighed her options. After a few moments, she nodded reluctantly. "Okay, Rebekah. I'll come with you. But if i still shooes to leave, you will respect my decision.
A bittersweet smile graced Rebekah´s lips as she looked upon Amelia. " Agreed." She responded.
"Come on," Rebecka said with determination in her voice as they made their way down the dimly lit hallway of the old plantation house. The ancient wooden floorboards creaked beneath their feet as they walked past two rooms before Rebecka abruptly turned and walked into a room. Amelia followed closely behind, her curiosity piqued.
However, Amelia stopped in her tracks as she laid eyes upon Hayley, the werewolf who had come to Mystic Falls with Tyler. "What is she doing here?" Amelia asked, pointing her finger at Hayley in disbelief. Hayley closed the book she had been reading and her eyes grew wide as she noticed Amelia Forbes, also known as Caroline's cousin, standing in the doorway, staring daggers at her.
"What are you doing here? Where is your watch guard?" Hayley retorted with a mischievous grin on her face. During her time in Mystic Falls, Hayley had noticed that Damon Salvatore was always following either Elena Gilbert or Amelia Forbs.
"Shouldn't you be out terrorizing people?" Amelia shot back, her anger flickering in her eyes. She then turned to Rebecka and declared, "I've changed my mind." Determined to escape the awkward confrontation, she swiftly walked back down the hallway, making her way towards the front door.
Just as Amelia reached the front door, ready to escape, she was startled to find Rebecka standing in front of her, an old worn book clutched tightly in her hands. Confused, Amelia asked, "What is she doing here?"
Rebecka brushed off the question, pushing the book into Amelia's hands. "Everything you want to know about who you are is in here," Rebecka replied mysteriously.
Amelia looked down at the book, a mix of curiosity and unease swirling within her. "How do you know so much about my family? I barely know half of it," she questioned, not sure if she could trust Rebecka's cryptic words.
"This is one of Elijah's old journals. He wrote in it when we lived here back in the 1800s. He was friends with one of your ancestors," Rebecka explained, her voice laced with a hint of excitement.
Amelia stared down at the ancient book, hesitant to delve into Elijah's personal journal. But on the other hand, she desperately yearned for answers about her own heritage. Taking a deep breath, she finally relented. "Fine," she acquiesced, before brushing past Rebecka and opening the front door.
But Amelia's escape was short-lived as she let out a startled yelp, coming face to face with none other than Klaus on the other side of the door. "Jesus Christ," she exclaimed, her heart pounding.
"No need to be so hasty, love," Klaus replied with a mischievous grin, thoroughly enjoying Amelia's surprise.
"This is getting too weird," Amelia muttered to herself, feeling a wave of unease wash over her. She darted past Klaus, running down the front steps and towards her car. With a quick acceleration, she drove away from the ancient house, leaving Klaus and Rebecka standing there staring after her fleeing vehicle.
"What did you do?" Klaus demanded, turning to face his sister with a mixture of curiosity and concern.
"I gave her one of Elijah's journals," Rebecka replied confidently.
"You did what?" Klaus questioned, his voice filled with disbelief.
"Everything she wants to know about her family lineage, she can learn from what Elijah wrote about Elisabeth. You remember her, right?" Rebecka explained, her tone betraying a touch of a fake smile, before turning on her heels and walking back into the house, leaving Klaus bewildered and questioning Amelia's unexpected presence in New Orleans.
As Klaus stood there, deep in thought, Hayley stepped forward, her confusion evident. "What is Amelia Forbes doing in New Orleans?" she asked, unable to comprehend the sudden turn of events.
"That is none of your concern, little wolf," Klaus replied cryptically as he ascended the front steps of the house, his mind racing with possibilities and secrets waiting to unfold.