The morning sunlight filtered through the leaves, casting dappled shadows inside the treehouse where Maya sat with her two heart-siblings. Munching on the cookies Dobby had supplied, and enjoying his home-made lemonade.
"How was it?" Maya asked, breaking the comfortable silence. Her eyes were soft with concern as she watched Tyler, who was sitting on the floor, casually stretching to ease his sore muscles. He sent her a weary but reassuring smile.
"It wasn't terrible," he began, his voice raspy from exhaustion. "It hurt, a lot, but the pack was there. They taught me to lean into the change, to accept it rather than fight it. It helps with the pain. They say it gets easier the more you do it, the more you learn to embrace it."
Caroline, lounging across from them on a couple of the beanbags that she had gathered up to create a comfy seat, chimed in thoughtfully,
"You could always take Klaus up on his offer, then you wouldn't have to go through it again."
Tyler's expression hardened with resolve as he shook his head. "Not yet. Maybe in the future, but I want to be at least eighteen before that happens."
"I can understand that" Caroline replied, a morose look on her face, "knowing I'm going to be stuck at seventeen for eternity isn't a great feeling."
Tyler nodded. his jaw set firmly.
"Eighteen at the earliest. But I think waiting till I'm twenty-five would be better."
"Why twenty-five?" Maya inquired her curiosity piqued amidst the sombre tones of their conversation.
Tyler settled back against the wall, his eyes reflecting a depth of thought.
"I had a talk with Professor Madeley from the Academy's science department. Apparently, the majority of the werewolves who trigger their curse accidentally, do so between puberty and the age of twenty-five. He explained that the human brain isn't fully developed until around twenty-five, especially the pre-frontal cortex. That's the part that controls impulse and risk management."
Caroline nodded, a spark of understanding in her eyes.
"So, because that part is still developing, coupled with a werewolf's temper and aggressiveness, you're more likely to accidentally trigger your curse when you're younger."
"Doesn't look good for my chances then." Maya stated softly, her voice tinged with resignation, a wry smile on her face. "What with that, plus my magic and the added danger that comes with just being me."
Her words hung in the air, and for a moment, the tree house was enveloped in a thoughtful silence. Maya's playful smirk faded slightly as she toyed with a loose thread on her sleeve, contemplating the complexities of her own powers amidst the natural and supernatural challenges they each faced. It was a shared burden, yet uniquely her own, making the distance the upcoming trip would put between them feel even more significant.
Tyler and Caroline exchanged a knowing glance, a silent agreement passing between them. Then, almost in unison, they shifted closer to Maya on the creaky old sofa. With a gentle tug, they drew her into a warm, enveloping embrace. The tree house seemed to hold its breath, the sounds of the forest outside momentarily fading into the background.
"We're with you, Cosmo, no matter what," Caroline declared, her voice firm and unwavering. The nickname, a testament to their deep bond, brought a flicker of a smile to Maya's face, even as her eyes glistened with unshed tears.
"Yeah," Tyler added, tightening his hold just a bit, as if to physically reinforce his words. "Whatever happens, you'll have the two of us, always."
In that cozy, sunlit haven among the trees, their promise seemed to solidify, strong as the trunks that supported them. Maya, nestled between her two pseudo-siblings, felt a surge of gratitude and a renewed sense of strength—no matter the challenges ahead, she wasn't facing them alone. She didn't just have Caroline and Tyler, she had he whole family, a family she knew would do anything for her, whatever happened.
Damon's voice rang out over the gentle lap of canal water.
"Maya, be careful!"
"I am," she called back, her voice full of confidence.
Maya had just darted up the gondola, claiming the coveted seat at the prow with the grace of a cat. Damon watched her, a mix of amusement and concern playing on his features. He breathed a sigh of relief as she settled in without a hitch.
"She's fine," Elijah reassured him with a chuckle, noticing Damon's barely concealed worry.
"Indeed," Finn agreed, leaning back against the gondola's cushioned edge. "Actually, out of everyone, it's Kol and Niklaus who are more likely to end up swimming in the canals."
Damon turned to Finn; his eyebrow arched in intrigue.
"Oh?"
"If they don't stop their constant bickering, I'm going to push them both in and let them swim back to the hotel," Finn declared loud enough for both of them to hear, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
Damon nodded, his lips quirking in amusement, as they Klaus and Kol stared at Finn for a moment before settling into their seats in silence. The first day of their holiday in Venice had unfolded smoothly for the most part. Maya was clearly enjoying the adventure, her laughter often mingling with the distant sounds of the bustling city. However, the day hadn't been without its challenges.
Earlier that morning, Kol had pranked Klaus, sparking a day-long feud filled with petty quips and minor sabotage. The sibling rivalry added an undercurrent of tension, that thankfully hadn't diminished Maya's joy as they'd explored the Piazza San Marco and the Basilica. Or their guided tour of the Palazzo Ducale which they'd been on after lunch. Damon however, had reached the point where he just might help Finn push them both into the canal.
As the gondola glided silently through the narrow, serpentine canals of Venice, the ancient city revealed its hidden charms with every turn. The water was a mirror to the sky, reflecting the vibrant hues of sunset—shades of pink and orange melding seamlessly with the deepening blue. The gondolier, clad in a traditional striped shirt and wide-brimmed hat, deftly navigated under low bridges and past balconies bursting with flowers, his oar stirring the water with practiced ease.
The air was filled with the soft murmur of distant conversations and the occasional splash of water against stone, creating a symphony of sounds unique to Venice. The city's architecture told stories of centuries past; ornate facades and intricate sculptures peeking out from the walls that have stood the test of time. Every so often, the scent of freshly prepared seafood wafted from open windows, tantalizing the senses.
Damon kept an eye on Maya, but as Stefan had settled in next to her when they'd got on, he wasn't too worried that she would fall into the water. Gradually, bit by bit, he relaxed, settling in to enjoy their journey through Venice. As did everyone else, a comfortable silence fell over them, apart from the low murmurs coming from Stefan as he pointed out different sights for Maya to take pictures of. Even Kol and Klaus had settled down, though that might have had more to do with Finn's threat, than anything else.
Maya leaned closer, her eyes wide with fascination as the glassblower, an older man with a face marked by fine lines of laughter and concentration, picked up the long, hollow rod. The workshop was a cavern of heat, its walls lined with tools of the trade, shelves of colourful glass rods, and the glow of the roaring furnace illuminating the artisan's workspace. The air smelled of hot sand transforming into magic.
"What are you going to make?" Maya asked, her voice a mixture of curiosity and awe.
The glassblower smiled, his eyes twinkling with the secrets of his craft.
"Today, I think we shall make a fish, one that looks like it's swimming in the very lagoon outside our door," he replied, gesturing with a nod toward the sunlit canal visible through the open door of the workshop.
He began by gathering a blob of molten glass at the end of the rod, rolling it carefully on a steel table to shape it.
"Glassblowing is a dance with fire and time," he said, his voice rhythmic and smooth as he worked. "You must move with both grace and purpose. Too slow, and the glass cools and stiffens. Too fast, and it loses its form."
Maya watched as he returned the glass to the furnace, the bright orange glow reflecting off her face.
"How did you learn to do this?" she asked, her eyes never leaving the glowing orb at the end of the rod.
"My father was a glassblower, and his father before him," he answered, pulling the rod out and beginning to shape the glass with wooden paddles, his movements deliberate and skilled. "This craft is in my blood. I was brought up amongst these flames and colours."
Before Maya's eyes, the shapeless blob transformed, sprouting a tail and fins, the beginnings of a vibrant fish.
"Was it hard to learn?" she asked.
He chuckled softly.
"Like all great arts, it demands time, patience, and relentless practice. But with dedication, any skill can be honed."
Adding strips of blue and green glass, he layered them along the fish's body, each melting into a seamless gradient under the intense heat.
"The colours breathe life into it. Watch closely."
With a few deft twists, the fish assumed a dazzling, lifelike appearance, its body shimmering as though swimming beneath the water's surface. Holding it up to the light, he scrutinized his creation. Satisfied, he placed it in the annealing oven to cool.
"Now, would you like to try?" he offered.
Maya nodded eagerly her grin wide. Guided by the glassblower, she began crafting glass beads for a bracelet. As they worked, he regaled her with tales of Murano, the island synonymous with glass artistry, weaving history with every anecdote. Enraptured, she absorbed every story, the magic of the place and its craft enveloping her completely.
Klaus's eyes sparkled with amusement as Maya enthusiastically bombarded their Colosseum tour guide with questions about the ancient mock naval battles once held in the iconic arena. Her unrelenting smile and infectious energy reflected her sheer joy; she had been captivated by every Italian landmark since their arrival. From the romantic waterways of Venice to the picturesque villages of Cinque Terre, and the leaning marvel of Pisa, each experience filled her with delight, culminating in her awe of Rome's grandeur.
For Klaus, this journey marked a departure from his usual travels. Previously, his visits were cloaked in the quiet of night or arranged through persuasive means to ensure solitude and exclusivity. But this trip—this vibrant, bustling tourist experience—was something entirely new and unexpectedly enjoyable.
In contrast, their past outings in New York had a different flavour. There, amidst familiar streets, the focus was on deepening the bond with Maya, with the city as a mere backdrop. But here, in the heart of Italy, it was about embracing the full spectrum of being tourists, experiencing the cultural heartbeat of a new place as a family. It was, in every sense, a whole new adventure for Klaus, one that illuminated the joys of shared discoveries and the simple pleasure of seeing the world through Maya's wonder-filled eyes.
Klaus turned, catching Damon's gaze as he paused beside him. There was a fondness in Damon's eyes as he watched Maya, mirroring Klaus's own feelings. Yet, mingled with Damon's affection was a shade of exasperation, tinged with a hint of helpless amusement that piqued Klaus's curiosity.
"What's wrong?" Klaus inquired, his voice low and tinged with concern.
"Maya's trying to figure out where they went wrong. That's why she's asking all those questions," Damon replied, his tone laced with a wry chuckle.
"Where who went wrong with what?" Klaus furrowed his brow, clearly out of the loop.
"Oh right, you weren't in Mystic Falls yet when she and Enzo attempted to recreate the Colosseum on a smaller scale in the garden," Damon explained, his lips curving into a smile at the memory.
Klaus wasn't sure how to respond to that revelation, so he simply gestured with a hand, urging Damon to continue.
"Maya had a school project, a combined History/Math one. To build a scale replica of an ancient monument, with an accompanying report for each subject," Damon elaborated, his gaze drifting back to Maya with a mixture of pride and nostalgia.
"Maya chose the Colosseum?" Klaus asked, his interest piqued.
"Originally yes. I made her pick something else, after she and Enzo tried to make it more realistic and staged a mock naval battle."
Klaus, having met his daughter only a little over two months ago, was not entirely surprised by Damon's tale. He was getting accustomed to Maya's creative and sometimes chaotic projects. He'd been unwittingly decorated with glitter on numerous occasions and had enjoyed a front-row seat to her explosive Volcano project—a model of Mount Doom, replete with Lego figures of Sam, Frodo, and Gollum—that had spectacularly coated both the kitchen and him in a sticky red goo. He was still unsure if that disaster had been accidental or a meticulously planned prank by his inventive daughter.
"What happened?" Klaus asked, now thoroughly intrigued.
"You know the small pond by the willow tree?" Damon began, a mischievous glint in his eyes.
"Yes," Klaus nodded.
"That wasn't there before." Damon's statement hung in the air, implying a catastrophic yet hilarious outcome to one of Maya's grand ideas.
Klaus's heart swelled with a profound sense of gratitude as he watched Damon, who had not only provided Maya with shelter but had crafted a home where she could truly thrive. It was a sanctuary where Maya's vibrant spirit and boundless creativity were celebrated, not stifled—a place of mischief and mayhem without the shadow of retribution. This was a type of childhood neither Klaus nor Damon had experienced, and one Maya had only discovered after seeking out Damon. Now, she was blossoming, surrounded by love and the freedom to be unabashedly herself.
His gaze returned to Maya, who had now been joined by Kol, as they continued to interrogate their patient tour guide with a barrage of questions. Klaus chuckled to himself; it was fortunate they had opted for a private tour. Any other visitors would have found it impossible to edge in a question with Maya and Kol dominating the conversation. Nearby, Elijah oscillated between helping the overwhelmed guide and satisfying his own curiosity about their queries.
Rebekah, Stefan, and even the typically reserved Finn watched the scene unfold with a warmth and amusement that mirrored Klaus's feelings. Their expressions were a mix of adoration and gentle laughter at the family dynamics playing out before them.
As Klaus soaked in the lively interactions of his family, he couldn't help but acknowledge the pure joy found in these simple moments. Here in the shadow of the ancient Colosseum, a symbol of endurance and history, he found a profound appreciation for the present—a family vacation, perhaps ordinary by some standards, but to him, a cherished gathering filled with laughter, learning, and love. It was, indeed, a delightful novelty to revel in the sheer normalcy and joy of being together as a family on this vacation.
As the ancient stones of Pompeii echoed with the footsteps of tourists, Maya tried to stifle a giggle with a cough. Two spectral figures, barely visible under the bright sunshine, had been shadowing their tour guide since the beginning, providing a humorous and sometimes corrective commentary on the historical narratives being shared. These ghosts, draped in the ethereal garb of ancient Rome, seemed personally invested in the tour, particularly critical at the stops that highlighted their former residence.
Catching the suppressed mirth in Maya's expression, Kol arched an eyebrow inquisitively. Knowing better than to disrupt the guide's flow of speech, Maya communicated silently with her hands, a covert conversation amidst the crowd.
"She's got a pair of ghosts following her," she signed, her eyes twinkling with the thrill of the unseen.
"Ghosts?" Kol signed back; his curiosity piqued.
"Wizards. Ancient Roman ones," Maya clarified, her hands moving with quick, fluid gestures.
"What are they saying?" Kol's hands danced with his question, eager for the secrets only Maya seemed privy to.
"This used to be their house, and they don't appreciate us traipsing through it." Maya's eyes sparkled, as she caught the next spectral comment. "Apparently, it's very rude of us to come into their bedroom uninvited."
The sun draped the secluded beach in a rich golden hue, warming the powdery sand and the lively group scattered across it. Maya's laughter mingled with the soft whispers of the waves as she and Stefan knelt, hands deftly sculpting an intricate sandcastle. Their focused effort birthed towering spires and deep moats, while Klaus, reclined nearby on a sun-lounger, watched the scene with a smile of pure contentment. He occasionally tossed playful suggestions their way, which Maya feigned considering with all seriousness before dismissing with a chuckle.
Nearby, Elijah, ever the businessman, sat under the shade of a large umbrella, his suit lighter than usual but still impeccably sharp. He enjoyed a chilled iced tea, the condensation beading along the glass, while absorbed in a thick novel. A few steps away, Finn and Damon stood discussing the next leg of their European adventure—Greece—with animated gestures and bright anticipation.
Meanwhile, the beach echoed with the shrieks of Rebekah chasing Kol, her laughter ringing clear as she dodged another of his mischievous water balloon attacks. They darted across the sand in a playful dance, conspicuously avoiding their supernatural speed, indicating Rebekah's amusement more than any real ire.
As the sun began its descent, stretching long shadows across the beach, Maya's sandcastle stood completed, adorned with seaweed flags fluttering in the breeze and a gate encrusted with colourful shells. Klaus, rising from his leisure, suggested a final trip into town for gelato, a sweet farewell to their Italian escapade. This proposal won instant approval; the group quickly gathered their belongings, and returned to the villa to change, ready for one last taste of Italy before their morning departure.