"Would you like to talk about your drawing?" Dr Sam's voice was a soft, encouraging nudge in the quiet space of her office.

Maya, who had been lost in her sketching since the moment she stepped inside, hesitated. Until now, her greetings were the only words she had shared, her focus pouring into the art pad before her. Yet, when she finally allowed her gaze to truly capture what her hands had been creating, she found the faces of her parents, all four of them. The revelation seemed to open a floodgate within her.

"I don't… I don't know how I should feel about things."

Dr Sam offered a gentle reminder, a beacon in the confusion.

"Feelings are inherently personal, Maya. There's no 'supposed to' when it comes to emotions. Your feelings are valid, regardless of how others might judge them."

Taking a deep, uncertain breath, Maya began to unravel her thoughts.

"Sirius... he was finally given a trial last Monday. They declared him innocent."

"How do you feel about that?"

"I'm happy for him, he was innocent, but he got sent to Azkaban anyway and he never even got a trial, so it's right that it's finally happened. Peter Pettigrew had a trial as well; he was found guilty."

"And how do you feel about that?"

"I… he was sentenced to the Dementor's kiss and then to be thrown through the Veil of Death and I'm happy he's gone, and I know you said it's okay for me to feel what I feel, but… Surely it's wrong to take pleasure in someone else's pain."

"There's a difference between feeling pleasure in someone else's pain, and being happy that someone who has caused you so much pain, will never be able to hurt you or anyone else ever again."

"I don't… I'm happy about it. I'm glad he's dead, and I'm glad he suffered, because…"

"Because he hurt you," Dr Sam gently interjected, her understanding wrapping around Maya like a warm embrace. "Your feelings are a reflection of the pain and turmoil you've endured. It's more than okay to feel relief, even satisfaction, that he can no longer harm anyone. Your emotions don't have to be perfect to be valid."

"Did he deserve it?" Maya's question was loaded, seeking absolution in the complexity of her emotions. "Do you think he deserved it?"

Dr Sam's answer was unwavering, a beacon of support in the murky waters of moral ambiguity.

"Your feelings suggest he did, especially from the perspective of someone who suffered because of his actions. It's crucial to acknowledge and accept your emotions, Maya. It's an important part of your healing process."

Maya's gaze drifted back to her drawing; Pettigrew's fate wasn't the only thing she needed to talk over with Dr Sam.

"I met my father. My biological one."

"How did that go?"

"Not very well, he did, he did something wrong that made me angry." Maya admitted, the weight of the memory pressing down on her.

"And how did you handle that anger."

"I lost control of my magic. I pretty much destroyed the living room, and if Professor Aradia and Himiko hadn't been there I might have hurt someone."

"It's not unusual for children going through puberty to lose control of their magic on occasion, and you're more powerful than most, Maya. You also have the additional struggle that comes with the aggression and rage issues of being an untriggered werewolf. On top of that you have stressors in your life that most kids your age don't have. The important thing is learning from these experiences, understanding what triggered you, so you can navigate these emotions more safely in the future."

"You can't tell anyone what we talk about right?" Maya knew the answer, but she wanted confirmation again.

"Not unless you give me permission, or I think you pose a danger to yourself or others."

"My fa – My biological father is Niklaus Mikaelson." She paused for a moment, "The Original."

To her credit, Dr Sam limited her reaction to a mild flicker of surprise before resuming her gentle and open expression.

"And his actions, the ones that angered you?" Dr Sam probed gently.

"Damon had something he wanted. And he decided that the only way to get it was to threaten to hurt people. So, he had a lot of people kidnapped including Tyler and Caroline."

"Your heart-siblings." Dr Sam said nodding in understanding, Maya had mentioned them to her before, and she had helped Maya give a name to her feelings for them.

"Yeah, them and other people I like, friends."

"So, what triggered your anger was someone threatening to harm people you love."

"Yeah."

"It's a natural response, to be angered by threats to those you love," Dr Sam said, her understanding clear. "As for dealing with it in a healthier way, I believe you've learnt some breathing exercises?"

"Yeah." Part of her lessons with Takeshi had been different breathing exercises.

"Let's build on that. When anger surges, use those techniques, count down from one hundred, and focus on constructive actions you can take," Dr Sam suggested.

"I just… it's hard, I get overwhelmed with rage and I lose control."

"I know. I'm not saying it's gonna be easy, and I'm not saying you're gonna be prefect and get it right first time. But I think it's something you should try, because the older you get, the more powerful you will become, and there might come a time when you really do hurt someone. Whether you mean to or not."

Maya nodded. Dr Sam was right, and as much as the meditation and the lessons with Himiko had helped her control overall. She'd lost control twice in the past two months due to her rage overwhelming her. She needed to practice handling it, because she really didn't want to hurt anyone by accident.

"How was the situation resolved?"

"Elijah, my uncle, he confronted my father about me, and convinced my father to release everyone unharmed."

"And how have things been since?"

Maya hesitated, her voice carrying a mix of defiance and unresolved anger.

"He wouldn't apologize, so I made it clear that I wouldn't forgive him."

Dr Sam's reaction was almost imperceptible, a slight twitch of her lips that betrayed a flicker of amusement. However, she maintained her professional composure, recognizing the depth of the emotions at play.

"Understandable. Have you considered finding common ground, perhaps something you both appreciate?"

Maya shifted uncomfortably, her fingers tracing the edge of her sleeve.

"Uncle Kol mentioned he's into art too, but... I'm not ready to let go of my anger. I don't want him to think for a second that I'm not still furious."

"Because it feels like letting him win?"

The question made Maya blush, a crimson tide washing over her cheeks as she nodded. The absurdity of the situation didn't escape her, yet it was her heartfelt truth.

"Yeah," she sighed.

"So how have you been letting him know you're still angry?"

"Uncle Kol's been helping me play pranks on him. We turned his fur pink when he was a wolf, and we covered him in confetti and glitter when we had dinner on Sunday night."

"And how did he react?"

Maya's lips twisted in annoyance.

"He looked proud of me."

"Perhaps he is."

"Why?"

"You're clever, you're resourceful, you're brave, you're kind. Why wouldn't he be proud of you?"

"But he doesn't know me."

"Not yet. Not completely. But he's your father, and it's not unusual for parents to be proud of their kids."

Maya frowned slightly and looked down at the picture, rubbing a gentle thumb over the image of Damon's face that she had drawn. He was the one person she counted as a parent who did know her. The one who knew everything.

"Damon thinks I should tell them about my past. About the Dursley's."

Dr Sam leaned in, her gaze soft, encouraging Maya to find her own truth.

"And what do you feel about that?"

Maya hesitated, the words forming slowly as she navigated the complexities of her feelings.

"I… The Dursley's are in prison. And I… At first, I thought I wouldn't have to think about it again, because it was over. Done. But I still think about it."

Dr Sam's response was thoughtful, her words chosen with care.

"Your experiences with the Dursleys, as harrowing as they were, played a significant role in shaping the person you are today. It's natural to want to move past it, but confronting and acknowledging your history is a crucial step towards healing."

Maya took a deep breath, finding strength in Dr Sam's words.

"I know. I figured that out, and I was… I don't like what happened, what they did, but I've been dealing with it, you and Damon, and my family, my friends, you've all helped me accept that it happened, and deal with my feelings about it, and… I don't want anyone to treat me differently because of what the Dursley's did to me."

"Have you considered that it might come out whether you and Damon tell them or not?"

"Yeah." Maya sighed, "I get that they probably need to know, at least the basics."

"They don't need to know, Maya. Not if you don't want them to."

"But you think they should. So does Damon."

Dr Sam nodded, acknowledging the dilemma.

"Sharing might help them understand you better, avoid unintentional missteps. Yet, it's equally possible that it could lead to different misunderstandings. Ultimately, it's your choice to make."

The core of Maya's internal conflict surfaced.

"What if I want them to know, but I can't bear to be the one to tell them?"

The room filled with a deep understanding as Maya articulated her true struggle. She recognized the wisdom in Damon's and Dr Sam's perspectives—they were right. Her new family deserved to know about her early years and the shadows cast by the Dursleys. Yet, the thought of witnessing their reactions, of being present as they processed the darkness of her past, was overwhelming. Maya sought a path that allowed her truth to be shared without her having to relive the pain in their eyes.

"I'm sure Damon would be willing to tell them with your permission. But if you prefer it to be someone more removed from the situation, then, as I mentioned earlier, if I have your permission I can reveal certain details of our sessions. Such as telling your father and your aunt and uncles the facts of what happened to you growing up. Or Damon and I can do it together."

"But you won't tell them what we talk about? About my thoughts and feelings, and the things I struggle with?"

"Broad strokes only."

"If you and Damon talk to them together, could you do it while I was at the Academy?"

"Absolutely. Is that what you'd like?"

"Yes."

"Okay, then that's what we'll do." Dr Sam checked the time on her clock, "We've got about ten minutes left, so why don't I call Damon in now and we can discuss what you want and make a plan of action?"

Maya nodded, a sense of relief washing over her.

Dr Sam leaned in; her gaze soft but unwavering as she addressed Maya.

"There's one more piece I'd like to share with you before we invite Damon in," she said, her voice carrying a gentle but earnest tone. "It's completely natural to feel anger towards your father for his actions; your feelings are valid and justified. However, I encourage you to consider a different perspective, not for his benefit, but for your own."

Dr Sam paused, allowing her words to sink in.

"Imagine looking back years from now—don't let anger be the barrier that prevents you from exploring a relationship with him. This isn't about excusing his actions, but about giving yourself the opportunity to discover all facets of your relationship without letting anger cloud the potential for healing and understanding. Consider this not just for what it means today, but for the peace it might bring you in the future."

Maya nodded again. Dr Sam stood up and went to call Damon into the room as Maya mused over what she had just said. She participated somewhat in the discussion about when and where to tell her father, to tell her family, about the Dursley's, mostly just nodding when questions were directed her way. Most of her focus was on the last piece of advice Dr Sam had given her. It made sense, how could she decide if she wanted her dad to be a part of her life if she didn't allow herself to get to know him, or give him the opportunity to really know her.

As was usual after a session with Dr Sam, she felt much lighter. Thoughts and feelings that once tangled her mind were untangled, piece by piece as she helped her understand them. Helped her figure out how to accept her past, and deal with her present, in healthy ways. As much as she had been unsure about therapy when Damon first brought it up, a hangover from the Dursley's as Vernon had always been very derogatory about people who engaged therapists, Dr Sam had helped her more than she could ever truly put into words.

Maya's grin stretched wide across her face, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she dramatically raised her wooden sword towards Enzo.

"Hello. My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die," she declared, her voice a blend of earnestness and dramatic flair.

Enzo, catching the playful challenge, mirrored Maya's grin and, with an equally theatrical gesture, presented his own wooden blade. "Let's not bicker and argue over who killed who," he retorted, his tone light, infused with humour.

Rebekah frowned in confusion, as she watched them from the patio, in between Stefan and Kol. She had anticipated a serious session of fencing practice, yet here were Enzo and Maya, engaging in what seemed to her like a bizarre dance of dramatic gestures and nonsensical phrases.

"You don't frighten us, English pig dogs. Go and boil your bottom, you son of a silly person. I blow my nose at you." Maya declared next, her voice taking on an outrageously exaggerated accent, adding to the bewildering spectacle.

"I don't understand," Rebekah voiced her perplexity, feeling utterly lost amidst the theatrical display.

"Monty Python." Stefan offered by way of explanation, as if it meant anything to Rebekah.

"I have the high ground," Enzo declared.

Rebekah glanced once more at Enzo and Maya who were standing on completely flat terrain and then turned back to Stefan, her brow furrowed in confusion.

"What does that even mean?" She glanced at Kol, who shook his head looking just as mystified as she felt.

"THIS IS SPARTA!"

Maya's strange battle cry, startled Rebekah and she turned back in time to see Maya lift up her foot and kick Enzo square in the stomach. Even from where she was standing, she could see that Maya had put very little force behind it, but Enzo flailed and fell backwards as if she'd kicked him with all her strength.

"Oh! Now we see the violence inherent in the system! Help, help, I'm being repressed!" Enzo exclaimed from the ground his tone mockingly tragic.

"Brother Stefan – bring forth the holy hand grenade." Maya called out, her voice commanding yet playful, as she extended her hand expectantly, grinning over at Stefan and Rebekah.

With a chuckle, Stefan lobbed a small ball towards her.

"No! Not the gumdrop buttons!" Enzo cried in feigned despair as Maya caught the ball and tossed it into the air. A shower of glitter exploded over him, adding a sparkling finale to their theatrical skirmish.

"What was that all about?" Kol asked, Rebekah nodded, she would like an explanation as well.

"Enzo ate the last of the chocolate brownies Caroline made." Stefan told them, as if that cleared up anything about what had just happened.

"What is a Monty Python?" Rebekah asked, "Why were they yelling nonsense phrases at each other and flailing around? And what do chocolate brownies have to do with anything."

"The brownies were mine and Enzo ate them, so he had to repent." Maya explained bouncing over to the three of them, with Enzo trailing behind, still coated in neon pink glitter.

"Are we going to fence now?"

"Do I need to scream nonsensical phrases at you?"

Maya laughed.

"They're not nonsensical, they're from films." But she shook her head, "nope, that just when we're re-enacting. I want to fence for real."

"Okay. How much experience do you have?"

"Enzo's been teaching me for the past two years."

Rebekah looked up at Enzo.

"She knows all the basic moves. When we fight with real blades, we decide on a set of exchanges and practice them. If you want to have more of a free fight, then you have to use the wooden practice weapons. Damon's rules."

Rebekah nodded.

"Okay. Why don't you show me the moves you know," She suggested to Maya, "and then we can have a mock duel."

Maya nodded enthusiastically and picked up the épée, that she'd carefully placed on the table earlier, and went to stand back on the lawn. Rebekah followed and smiled as Maya demonstrated the moves she knew. Enzo had clearly taught her well; Rebekah didn't need to correct her form at all.

Satisfied that her niece knew what she was doing. Rebekah went and collected her own épée from the table, and suggested a series of moves and counter moves they could practice together.

Klaus surveyed the room, his gaze sweeping across the vibrant canvases, intricate sketches, and striking photographs that adorned every conceivable space. In this quiet corner of the world, he found a bridge to his daughter—a shared passion for art. Their interactions, until now, had been fleeting, often under the watchful eyes of others, leaving little room for genuine connection. But today was different. Elijah had made it so, ensuring the day was reserved for Klaus and his daughter, Maya, alone. The usual bustle of the Salvatore house was absent, leaving them in a rare moment of solitude, with only Maya's art to fill the silence.

The beginning was awkward, punctuated by stretches of silence that felt like chasms between them. It was Damon, the younger vampire whom Klaus begrudgingly acknowledged had Maya's affection, who suggested a visit to her art studio. Despite his inner turmoil, Klaus found himself grateful for the suggestion. It was a lifeline, a chance to connect with Maya on a level that was deeply personal to both of them.

"You seem to draw a lot of inspiration from space," Klaus ventured, hoping to kickstart a conversation. Immediately, he regretted not starting with a compliment about her undeniable talent.

"I love space. I'm going to be an astronaut one day," Maya declared, her eyes alight with determination.

The notion alarmed Klaus. The idea of his daughter embarking on such perilous ventures was unacceptable. But he caught himself before voicing his concerns, mindful of the fragile bond they were trying to build.

"Why?" he asked, instantly wishing he could rephrase the question to sound less critical, less like a challenge.

Navigating a conversation with a thirteen-year-old, especially his daughter, proved more daunting than Klaus had anticipated. He wondered if it had been this challenging with Marcellus, or if time and grief had softened his memories of fatherhood.

"I want to fly spaceships, like Han Solo," Maya responded with a spark in her eye.

Klaus didn't recognize the name, assuming it belonged to an astronaut. He made a mental note to find out later, unwilling to expose his ignorance and risk diminishing her view of him. Fathers, he believed, were supposed to be omniscient, a source of wisdom and admiration, not confusion.

"But what about your art? You have a remarkable talent. Don't you want to pursue that further?" Klaus tried to steer the conversation back to safer ground, hoping to encourage her dreams while navigating his own fears and aspirations for her future.

"I like art, I probably won't give it up completely. But I want to be a professional Quidditch player whilst I study to get the qualifications, I need to join NASA. Then I'm going to be an Astronaut."

He admired her determination, it allowed him a glimpse of himself in Maya, and Jasmine he supposed, she'd had lots of grit as well. He only had the vaguest memories of Quidditch, something like basketball played on broomsticks or such, much less objectionable than being an Astronaut. At least they'd still be on the same planet.

"I quite enjoy art myself. I've spent many a moment over the past centuries sketching and painting, I have quite the collection of canvases. I'll have to show you once our new house is complete and we've moved in."

Something flickered across her face, but it was gone again before he could figure out what it was.

"I like photography."

That was one artform he didn't know much about. Quite new, at least from his perspective, and he'd never spent much time wondering about it. But perhaps he should take the time to learn about it now, so that they would have another thing they could talk about.

Maya picked a stack of photos up off of one of the tables and offered them to him.

"I took these photos last year, when we went to Niagara Falls. I'm part of the photography club at school, and each year our professor chooses some of our photos and enters them into these competitions."

He accepted the stack she was holding and began to look through them, a lot of them seemed to be of the same snake, Part of him wanted to march out of the room and demand to know what Damon had been thinking letting Maya get so close to a poisonous animal. The other part of him felt a sense of pride at her ability, he didn't know much about photography as a medium, but he knew good work when he saw it.

"I didn't win, but one of my photos of Vasuki was highly commended in the twelve and under category." she beamed, her pride unmistakable as she gestured towards a framed photograph adorning the wall. "That one right there."

Maya had captured the snake in a moment of intense anticipation, its rattle elevated, and its head positioned as though ready to launch at any second. The frame intriguingly included just a hint of grey fur at the bottom - a subtle suggestion of the prey that had caught Vasuki's formidable attention. The composition skilfully balanced the imminent danger with an almost palpable tension, inviting the viewer into the split second before the inevitable clash in the wild. He could see why the Judges of the competition had commended her.

"That's a very impressive accomplishment."

"Thanks."

For the first time, she bestowed upon him a smile that was undeniably genuine. Klaus had witnessed her smiles before, those effortlessly shared with others, yet conspicuously withheld from him. But this—this smile was different. It was a gift meant solely for him, a treasure he vowed to safeguard in the depths of his memory. This wasn't just any smile; it was a milestone, the very first instance his daughter's joy had been directed at him. In that fleeting, precious moment, Klaus felt a bond forge between them, an unspoken acknowledgment of a newfound connection that promised to redefine their relationship henceforth.

As long as he didn't screw it up.

"Do you know who Han Solo is?" Rebekah looked over at Nik and frowned.

She of course new who he was talking about, Maya had been very clear in her description of her favourite movies, and her favourite characters in said movies. Clearly Maya had referenced him during the time she had spent with Nik today and just as obvious was the fact that he had no idea what she meant and was now looking to find out.

Rebekah saw the opportunity and pounced.

"He's a character from a show or something." She replied dismissively.

"What show?" Nik demanded.

"Space journey, I think." She shook her head, "No that's not it. It began with Star. Star Walk, Star Flight, Star Trek. That was it Star Trek. Maya's a very big fan."

She wasn't. She'd watched some of them apparently, but she was much more enamoured of Star Wars. Rebekah wasn't quite clear on the difference, but from what Maya said it was clearly an important one, at least as far as her niece was concerned.

She caught sight of Kol standing behind Nik, a look of sheer delight on his face. He knew exactly what she'd just done. She waited for him to reveal her deception to Nik, but he didn't say anything, just shot her a wink and disappeared. Rebekah satisfied that she had got one over on her big brother, went back to flipping through one of the books Caroline had recommended, she was finding it hopelessly dreary, but she was committed now and would not allow it to defeat her.