Maya's warmth was a gentle anchor against Caroline's side, her head a soft weight on Caroline's shoulder. Since the moment she had come storming out of the floo to discover a dishevelled and haunted Caroline, Maya had become her steadfast shadow, refusing to unclasp her grip despite the chorus of voices insisting Caroline was okay, that she was safe and had healed – at least on the outside. It was the wounds that lay beneath the surface, the ones etched into the fabric of her psyche, that were far from healed.
Caroline understood, in a detached, almost clinical way, that her own death had been the catalyst for her transformation into the night's creature she now was. Yet, the absence of memory served as a relief, allowing her to distance herself from the reality of that particular trauma. There was no distancing herself from yesterday's events however, the cruelty Jules had unleashed upon her was a different beast altogether—a visceral reminder of the darkness that lurked within the human soul. It was a brand of malice that transcended petty high school vendettas, the kind that revelled in the infliction of pain.
Her mother had always been vigilant about the evils of the world. Mystic Falls might have been a sleepy town, but it wasn't immune to the shadows that crept in the corners of every community. Caroline had grown up with cautionary tales, not just of the strangers lurking in the dark, but of the familiar faces that could just as easily harbour sinister intentions. She had heeded the warnings, armed herself with self-defence classes, pepper spray, and the steely resolve of someone who knew how to wield a firearm, even if she couldn't legally carry one.
Vampirism had bestowed upon Caroline a newfound assurance. Her reflexes were sharper, her strength unparalleled—a stark contrast to the vulnerability she once felt. But Jules, with her disarming smile and all-American charm, had slipped through Caroline's defences. It was a harsh lesson that danger often wore the most unassuming masks.
The ordeal had left invisible scars, ones that would linger long after the physical evidence had faded. No amount of theoretical knowledge could shield you from the twisted delight in your tormentor's eyes, from the echoes of your own screams. And now, with Jules still at large, a shiver of unease threaded through Caroline's thoughts. The uncertainty of how many allies Jules had concealed within the town's borders, or what truths had been unearthed since the chaos of her rescue, hung heavy in the air. She could only hope that Kol, true to his word, would extract answers from the survivors of yesterday's fight.
Bonnie, plastered against her back, due to the impromptu sleepover they decided upon, mostly because Maya refused to let Caroline out of her sight, stretched and yawned sleepily. Her eyes fell on Caroline first, shadows of concern flitting through them accompanied by a silent question; 'how are you doing?'
Caroline gave her a lacklustre smile. She wasn't okay, not right now, but she would be. It would take some time, and would heavily rely on knowing that Jules and the rest of her pack had been dealt with and could never hurt her or anyone else again, but she would get there.
Rebekah, stretched out on the other side of Maya, was the next to awaken. Her solid presence had been a massive comfort to Caroline last night. Despite knowing that the wards would keep Jules and her pack out of the Boarding House, having Rebekah between the rest of them and the windows had helped Caroline sleep. Rebekah had assured them all before they'd gone to sleep, that anyone who did get through the wards, and tried to get in through the windows, would die a very quick and moderately painful death.
Rebekah turned her head towards them, a fond smile passed across her face as she saw Maya still asleep, nose scrunched up slightly, but otherwise relaxed, before her eyes met Caroline's.
"How did you sleep?" Rebekah kept her tone soft and quiet, conscious that Maya hadn't woken yet, but Caroline with her vampire hearing picked it up fine.
"Mostly okay." She replied, just as quietly.
"Nightmares?"
"A few," Caroline admitted.
"They won't ever fully go away, but the frequency lessens as time passes." Rebekah spoke with the tone of someone who knew from experience.
Caroline wasn't surprised at that, Rebekah was other a thousand years old, she was sure anyone would rack up more than a few bad memories in that amount of time.
"We'll begin your training after breakfast," Rebekah added.
She was so matter-of-fact about it, that Caroline was left racking her brains to remember if she had agreed to 'training' and simply forgotten about it. As hard as she tried, she couldn't remember agreeing to anything of the sort.
"Training?"
"Yes. Training." She replied firmly without elaborating on what she meant.
Before Caroline could ask for clarity, Maya began to stretch, just as Bonnie had done, slow and sleepy at first, but then her eyes sprang open and latched on to Caroline. Unlike Bonnie and Rebekah, Maya didn't ask any questions, Caroline got the feeling that it was because she didn't think she needed to, like she already knew the answers she would receive.
She didn't know everything about Maya's early childhood, but she knew enough to know that what she had experienced yesterday at the hands of Jules, had been a near-daily thing for Maya growing up. Not the torture for answers as such, but the being hurt by someone for no real reason other than that they enjoyed it.
Maya didn't ask any questions because she didn't need to. She knew that beyond the physical wounds which had already healed, Caroline wasn't okay. She knew that Caroline wouldn't have slept as well as she normally would last night, the trauma still too close to the surface for that. No, Maya didn't need to ask any questions, she just needed to reassure herself that Caroline was there, alive, and safe, that she hadn't lost her big sister.
Jules was angry. Partially at herself, she'd taken a risk snatching Caroline, she'd known that before she'd done it. At the time she'd considered it a worthwhile risk, she needed answers, and she really hadn't thought that Caroline's friends would find her as quickly as they had done. Her gamble had failed, she was no closer to finding Brady than she had been before, and she'd lost almost half her pack in the process. Most of her anger though, was reserved for one person and one person only.
Mason Lockwood.
She'd accepted him into her pack. Made him a part of her family. They'd supported him through his transitions, helped him see he didn't need to feel guilty for killing someone. Done everything they could to be there for him in his new life, and what had they been given in return.
Lies and betrayal.
He'd lied to them about his family, told them that it was just him and his older brother left. He'd never mentioned his nephew, still young enough to bring into the pack, to educate in their ways. He'd betrayed them when he'd shacked up with a vampire. He'd betrayed them when he'd left the pack and never returned. He'd betrayed them when he'd helped vampires take Brady, Stevie, Cody, and Daniel. And he'd betrayed their entire kind when he'd allowed himself to be turned into the same parasite that had nearly hunted them into extinction.
And that was without including him turning on them yesterday and killing members of her pack to save Caroline.
Mason Lockwood was who her anger was aimed at, and he had more than earned a punishment.
It wasn't difficult to get inside the large mansion. Nor was it difficult to track down the one she sought. He was bent over his desk, so busy writing something that he didn't notice her until she was close enough to touch him.
It was a shame she couldn't draw it out, really drive the message home to Mason, but she needed to be quick and quiet.
"Wh–"
Before he could even get the word out, she'd stepped forward, gripped his head in her hands, and twisted.
The sharp crack as his neck snapped sent a wave of satisfaction through her.
She picked up a pen from the desk and added a simple mark to the paperwork, one that would look like a scribble to most people. Not to Mason though, he would know what it was and what it meant. He would know that it was his actions that had wrought this.
She heard footsteps coming towards the room and slipped out. Careful not to be seen, she was almost out of the house when she heard the first screams. Lips curling into a satisfied smirk, she left.
Time to re-join what was left of her pack and plan their next move.
Damon exhaled a heavy sigh, his gaze sweeping over the scattered array of books enveloping Maya. The calm with which she had greeted the news of Caroline's ordeal struck him as unnervingly poised, a stark contrast to the explosive bursts of raw magic she had unleashed in recent fits of temper. Initially, he reasoned that Caroline's safe return to the boarding house had tempered Maya's fury, sparing her from a maelstrom of unbridled magic. Yet, the sight of her thumbing through those volumes suggested a different truth: her anger hadn't dissipated; it had merely assumed a more focused form.
There was no mistaking the storm brewing within her, a tempest of rage for the injustices inflicted upon Caroline. Damon shared her seething anger, the primal urge to exact vengeance on those responsible. However, he was determined to steer Maya away from a path of regrettable actions.
"Maya, I confiscated those books for a reason," he interjected, his voice a blend of authority and concern.
Without diverting her attention from the pages, she retorted,
"I need them."
His resolve hardened.
"No, you don't," Damon's voice held an unyielding firmness as he met Maya's argument head-on. "Everyone responsible for what happened to Caroline will be found and dealt with, by us adults."
Maya's retort was cut short, a
"But—" silenced by Damon's stern interjection.
"No buts, Maya. You're well aware of the rules—the only dark magic you are allowed to practice until you are older, and you've mastered control over your magic, are jinxes."
A flicker of rebellion ignited in Maya's eyes her frustration palpable.
"Jinxes won't do anything! They hurt Caroline badly!"
Damon's response was softer this time, as he lowered himself to the floor beside her, bridging the physical distance between them. Gently, he pulled her into an embrace. Initially, Maya's body tensed, a natural resistance to the comfort being offered. Yet, within moments, her defiance melted away, allowing herself to sink into the warmth of his hold.
"I know," Damon whispered, his voice a soothing balm. "I know, kiddo. And believe me when I say they will be found and dealt with for what they did. But Caroline won't want you risking yourself just to avenge her okay."
The words were soft, half-muffled by Damon's shoulder, yet the intensity in Maya's voice cut through the silence with a raw, piercing edge.
"I hate them!" The declaration, soaked in a vehement blend of anger and pain, resonated deeply within Damon.
"Me too, kiddo. Me too," Damon echoed, his voice a low rumble of shared indignation. Each syllable carried the weight of unspoken promises and a history of protectiveness.
Caroline was innocent, and she didn't deserve what had happened to her, but beyond that she was family. And in Damon's world, family was sacrosanct—a bond not to be trifled with. To harm one was to invoke the wrath of all, a principle Damon upheld with unwavering determination. His resolve was as much a testament to his love for Caroline as it was a beacon of his commitment to safeguard his family against any threat, at any cost.
As Damon's attention shifted towards the door at the sound of the knock, he found Rebekah's eyes locking with his, a silent understanding passing between them. Her presence at the door, coupled with the solemn nod she offered, spoke volumes of her agreement with his stance. Her expression swiftly morphed into a warm smile as she addressed Maya,
"I'm going to be giving Caroline some self-defence training, sweetheart, would you like to help me?"
Maya nodded, scrambling to her feet and following Rebekah down the hall.
Left in the quiet aftermath, Damon seized the moment to collect the scattered books, his mind racing to concoct a new, more secure hiding spot for them.
"Why is there a rule against Maya doing dark magic?" Klaus asked from the doorway, apparently Rebekah wasn't the only one who'd overheard his conversation.
Damon couldn't help but speculate if Klaus's sudden interest and Rebekah's timely intervention were orchestrated, though the reason mattered little. Damon was more than willing to elucidate.
"A few reasons; One, she's too young. The Academy doesn't start teaching it's students counter curses until tenth grade, actual dark magic isn't taught until eleventh grade, and only after the students have proven they have the control to handle it. Maya is in eighth grade.
"Two, dark magic, particularly the wixen kind, is powered by dark emotions, in order to utilise it properly you need to have excellent control over your own emotions because all it takes for things to go catastrophically wrong is a single slip. Maya's getting better at controlling her emotions, but she doesn't have the control required for dark magic, not yet.
"Three, Maya is incredibly powerful, for all that she's only thirteen. She accidentally conjured a hurricane inside her classroom last year, and that was when they were practicing conjuring water out of the air. It should have been nothing more than condensation on a glass, and she created a hurricane, because that's how powerful she is. With Himiko's help she has gotten a lot better at mastering her magic, but again she doesn't have the mastery needed for dark magic.
"Four, some forms of dark magic can be addictive, so until Maya's mastered control of her magic and emotions, I don't want her doing it and running the risk that she won't be able to stop."
As Damon laid out the rationale behind the strict rule, he found himself navigating the familiar, yet unwelcome, current of attraction that surged between him and Klaus. There was an undeniable magnetism about Klaus—his presence alone commanded attention. Yet, Damon anchored himself in the moment, his resolve firm. This was Maya's father, a line he couldn't, and wouldn't, cross. The stakes were too high, and the dynamics of their lives had finally settled into a semblance of harmony since the Mikaelson's tumultuous arrival.
Damon's focus on Maya's well-being was unwavering; she was the beacon guiding his decisions, her happiness and safety paramount. The fleeting thrills of attraction paled in comparison to the depth of his commitment to Maya. Damon was acutely aware of the potential fallout that pursuing his feelings for Klaus could provoke—not just disrupting the fragile peace they'd all fought hard to establish but, more importantly, jeopardizing his bond with Maya. That was a risk Damon was not willing to take.
In his heart, Damon knew that no momentary desire could justify the possible cost. His affection for Maya transcended any personal longing he might feel. She was his priority, and in the grand scheme of things, his feelings for Klaus were just that—feelings. They could be managed, shelved away in a corner of his heart where they wouldn't threaten the family they had become. For Damon, nothing was more important than preserving the trust and love that had blossomed in their unique, makeshift family.
Klaus' acceptance of Damon's rationale came without protest, but his gaze soon drifted to the books cradled in Damon's arms, sparking the inevitable inquiry.
"If that's the established rule, then what's the story behind her possessing those?" he asked, nodding towards the tomes.
Damon's expression tightened, a mix of frustration and resignation playing across his features.
"They were a well-intentioned gift from Narcissa's husband, Lucius," he began, the complexity of the situation evident in his tone. "After Tom Riddle vanished, the home where Jasmine and Luke resided with Maya was ransacked, and many of their belongings were scattered to the winds, ending up in various second-hand shops. These books," he gestured with a slight grimace, "once belonged to Maya's grandmother, Dorea. Lucius recovered them with that sentimental value in mind. That's why I've merely confiscated them for now, until she's ready."
Klaus' response was a thoughtful nod, an unspoken understanding between them deepening.
"Mother practiced dark magic. Elijah entrusted Maya with one of her grimoires," he remarked, a trace of introspection in his voice.
Damon nodded, acknowledging the delicate matter at hand.
"I'm aware. Kol and Aradia went through it, they blanked out all the spells Maya shouldn't use until she's older, the rest of it I've been assured is mostly benign, and not beyond Maya's abilities, so I've allowed her to keep it."
"You've done a good job with her."
Klaus's acknowledgment, a simple yet profound declaration of Damon's success with Maya, carried the weight of unspoken questions and uncertainties. The thoughtful frown etching Klaus's features hinted at deeper reflections, prompting Damon to brace for what was to come.
"How long...?" Klaus's voice trailed off, the struggle to articulate his thoughts palpable. "How long did it take her to trust you?"
Damon recognized the gravity of the question.
"Months," he confessed, his voice carrying the weight of those initial challenging days. "It wasn't all at once either, it happened gradually, somethings were easier to be trusting about than others. It takes time, your actions matter, show her that she can trust you and eventually she will."
"She calls you Babbo."
That was both a statement and a question and Damon answered it as such.
"She does. Just because she sees me as a father doesn't exclude you from a role as her dad. She sees Luke as a father as well, one that she lost, one that died protecting her and Jasmine." Seeing Klaus' frown, he continued to explain. "That story is for Maya to tell you when she's ready. The point is, that she loves me, and she loves Luke, but that doesn't mean you don't have a place in her life. You're her father, she knows that, and she accepts it, and she accepts you, but love and trust take time to develop. You need to give her that time, you can't push for more or you'll just end up pushing her away. Maya has a big heart, there's more than enough room for both of us."
Klaus looked like he was about to say something else, but then something caught his attention, his head tilted slightly.
"The Sheriff is here."