The walk back to Lyja's apartment with Davina was quiet, the kind of silence that carried an unspoken understanding. The afternoon at the Mikaelson compound had been surprisingly pleasant. Hope's laughter, Klaus's unexpected moments of sincerity, and the peaceful atmosphere felt like a temporary reprieve from the chaos of New Orleans.

"You were great with Hope today," Davina said, breaking the silence.

Lyja glanced at her sister, shrugging. "She's a good kid. Hard not to like her."

Davina smiled knowingly. "I think she likes you, too. It's rare for her to open up to people like that."

Lyja paused, looking thoughtful. "It's hard to believe someone like Klaus could raise someone so… pure. But then again, he clearly loves her."

Davina nodded. "Klaus is complicated, but Hope brings out the best in him. Even if he doesn't always show it."

They reached Lyja's apartment, and Davina hesitated at the door. "Do you ever think about… staying?"

Lyja frowned, confused. "Staying where?"

"In New Orleans," Davina clarified, her voice soft. "With me. You've been talking about how this was temporary, but… I don't know. It feels like you belong here."

Lyja sighed, leaning against the doorframe. "I haven't thought that far ahead, Dav. This city has a way of pulling people in and not letting them go. It's… dangerous."

Davina's expression grew serious. "So is running away. I don't want to lose you again."

Lyja's chest tightened at her sister's words. She reached out, pulling Davina into a hug. "You're not going to lose me. I'm here, okay? For as long as you need me."

Davina pulled back, her eyes shining with unshed tears. "Good. Because I need you."

Later that night, Lyja sat by the window in her small living room, staring out at the glittering lights of the Quarter. Her thoughts drifted back to Hope's bright smile and Klaus's quiet vulnerability. For all her instincts to keep her guard up, she couldn't deny that there was something… different about the Mikaelsons. Something that felt strangely familiar, like they were all pieces in the same chaotic puzzle.

A knock at the door pulled her from her thoughts. She frowned, glancing at the clock—it was late. Too late for visitors again.

Grabbing her knife (a habit she wasn't about to drop), she opened the door cautiously. To her surprise, Marcel stood there, leaning casually against the frame with his signature smirk.

"Marcel," Lyja said, crossing her arms. "What are you doing here?"

"Nice to see you, too," he teased, stepping inside uninvited. "Heard you had an interesting day at the compound."

Lyja rolled her eyes, closing the door behind him. "Word travels fast, I see."

"It's the Quarter," Marcel said, shrugging. "Nothing stays quiet for long."

Lyja studied him, unsure of his intentions. "Why do you care?"

Marcel's smirk softened into something more genuine. "Because I want to make sure you're okay. The Mikaelsons… they're not easy people to deal with. And Klaus? He's got a way of getting under people's skin."

"I can handle Klaus," Lyja said firmly.

Marcel chuckled. "I don't doubt that. But just remember, Klaus doesn't do anything without a reason. Be careful."

Lyja tilted her head, her gaze narrowing. "Why does it sound like you're jealous?"

Marcel's smile faltered for a fraction of a second before he recovered. "Maybe I am. But I'm also looking out for you."

Lyja sighed, her frustration ebbing slightly. "I appreciate the concern, Marcel. But I can take care of myself."

"I know you can," he said, his tone softer now. "That's one of the things I like about you."

His words hung in the air, and Lyja felt her defenses waver just slightly. But before she could respond, Marcel straightened, his smirk returning. "Just… don't let him pull you into his world too deep, okay?"

Lyja nodded, her voice quieter now. "I'll keep that in mind."

Marcel gave her one last look before heading for the door. "Good night, Lyja."

"Good night," she replied, closing the door behind him.

As she leaned against the door, her thoughts spun. Between Hope's innocent charm, Klaus's surprising vulnerability, and Marcel's protective concern, Lyja felt like she was being pulled in a dozen different directions.

New Orleans had a way of pulling people into its web. And whether she liked it or not, Lyja was starting to feel like she was part of it now.

Rousseau's was alive with its usual evening crowd—tourists sipping cocktails, locals laughing in hushed conversations, and the faint buzz of music drifting from a jukebox in the corner. Lyja moved behind the bar, her hands working on autopilot as she poured drinks and wiped down counters. It was her third shift of the week, and the rhythm was finally starting to feel natural.

"Look at you," Cami said, sidling up beside her with a tray of empty glasses. "You're starting to look like a pro."

Lyja smirked, tossing a rag over her shoulder. "Don't jinx it. I'm just trying not to screw up."

"You're doing great," Cami reassured her, placing the tray on the counter. "It's not easy keeping up with this crowd, but you've got it down."

Lyja glanced at her coworker, taking in her warm smile and relaxed demeanor. Cami had been nothing but kind to her since she started working here, and Lyja couldn't deny how much she appreciated it. In a city where everyone seemed to have an angle, Cami felt… genuine.

As the night wore on, the crowd began to thin, and Lyja found herself with a rare moment of calm. She leaned against the bar, sipping water as Cami joined her, their shifts winding down.

"So," Cami said, breaking the comfortable silence. "How are you liking it here? The Quarter, I mean."

Lyja thought for a moment before answering. "It's… different. Chaotic. But in a weird way, it's starting to grow on me."

Cami laughed softly. "That's how it gets you. One day, you're just passing through. The next, you can't imagine being anywhere else."

"Guess I'll have to watch out," Lyja replied, her tone light.

Cami studied her for a moment, her expression thoughtful. "You're settling in, though. And it's nice having someone around who gets it. You've got a good head on your shoulders."

Lyja raised an eyebrow. "Is that your way of saying I seem less lost than when I started?"

"Something like that," Cami said with a grin.

Lyja couldn't help but smile. "Well, thanks. You've been a big part of that, you know."

Cami waved her off. "Please. You're doing all the hard work. I'm just here to make sure you don't drown behind the bar."

They both laughed, and Lyja felt a warmth she hadn't experienced in a while. Friendship was rare for her, especially in a place like New Orleans, but with Cami, it felt easy.

As the clock neared closing time, Cami turned to her with a casual, almost hesitant tone. "Hey, what are you doing Saturday morning?"

Lyja shrugged. "Nothing, as far as I know. Why?"

"There's this little café I go to sometimes," Cami said. "Great coffee, good vibes. I was thinking… maybe we could go together? You know, hang out outside of work."

Lyja blinked, caught off guard by the invitation. She wasn't used to people reaching out to her like this, but the thought of spending time with Cami sounded… nice.

"Yeah," she said, nodding. "I'd like that."

Cami smiled, her expression brightening. "Great. I'll text you the details."

As Lyja walked home that night, the cool breeze cutting through the humid air, she felt a surprising sense of excitement. The thought of a Saturday morning spent chatting with Cami over coffee felt refreshingly normal—a break from the chaos of the supernatural world she'd been navigating.

For the first time in a long time, Lyja felt like she was finding her place. And for now, that was enough.

Saturday morning arrived with a clear blue sky and a cool breeze that carried the scent of fresh rain. Lyja, dressed in a red casual sweater and black jeans, walked the few blocks to the café Cami had mentioned. The streets of the Quarter were quieter in the morning, a stark contrast to their usual lively chaos. It was a side of New Orleans she rarely got to see, and she found herself enjoying it.

When she arrived, she spotted Cami sitting at an outdoor table, her blonde hair glowing in the sunlight. A steaming cup of coffee rested in front of her, and she was flipping through a worn notebook. Lyja couldn't help but smile—Cami seemed at ease, completely in her element.

"Hey," Lyja said as she approached.

Cami looked up and smiled warmly. "Right on time. I wasn't sure if you'd show up."

Lyja raised an eyebrow as she slid into the seat across from her. "Why wouldn't I?"

Cami shrugged playfully. "I don't know, maybe you'd get cold feet. Not everyone's up for my sparkling morning personality."

Lyja laughed, leaning back in her chair. "Well, lucky for you, I'm here."

A waiter appeared, and Lyja ordered a latte before turning her attention back to Cami. "So, what's the notebook for? Journaling?"

Cami glanced down at the book, her fingers brushing the cover. "Something like that. I use it to jot down thoughts, ideas, things I'm working through."

"Therapeutic?" Lyja asked, curious.

"Very," Cami said with a nod. "Sometimes it's the only way to make sense of everything going on."

Lyja thought about that for a moment, then nodded. "Makes sense. Especially around here, where things don't always add up."

"Exactly," Cami said, her tone light but knowing.

Their conversation drifted to easier topics—favorite movies, books, even the chaos of working at Rousseau's. Lyja found herself relaxing, the tension that so often clung to her shoulders easing in Cami's presence. It was easy to talk to her, to laugh and share stories without feeling like she had to guard every word.

As their coffees dwindled and the morning stretched toward noon, Cami leaned forward, her expression growing more serious.

"Can I ask you something?" she said.

"Sure," Lyja replied, her curiosity piqued.

"What made you come to New Orleans?" Cami asked, her voice gentle. "I mean, it's obvious you're close to Davina, but… is that the only reason?"

Lyja hesitated, her fingers tracing the edge of her coffee cup. "It was part of it," she admitted. "I felt like I needed to be here for her, you know? She's been through so much, and I wasn't there when it started. I guess I'm trying to make up for lost time."

Cami nodded, her expression understanding. "But there's more to it, isn't there?"

Lyja sighed, leaning back in her chair. "Yeah, maybe. I think I needed a fresh start. A way to figure out who I am outside of… everything else."

Cami studied her for a moment, then smiled. "Well, for what it's worth, I think you're doing a pretty good job of figuring it out."

Lyja smirked, though her chest warmed at the compliment. "Thanks. That means a lot."

The two lingered for a while longer, the conversation shifting back to lighter topics. By the time they left the café, Lyja felt like she'd gained more than just a coworker—she'd found a friend.

As they walked back toward the Quarter, Cami turned to her with a grin. "We should do this again sometime. Maybe make it a weekly thing."

Lyja smiled, nodding. "I'd like that."

And as she watched Cami disappear into the bustling streets, Lyja felt a rare sense of optimism. For the first time in a long time, she wasn't just surviving—she was starting to live. And maybe, just maybe, she was finally finding her place.

The note had been slipped under her door sometime early in the morning, written in elegant, sharp handwriting that could only belong to Klaus Mikaelson.

Lyja,

Hope insists that you and Davina come by again today. She has new art to show you, and I won't hear the end of it until you do. Late afternoon, if you're available. I'm sure you'll make the right choice.

—Klaus

Lyja rolled her eyes at the last line but couldn't help the small smile tugging at her lips. The thought of spending another afternoon with Hope was appealing; the girl had a way of brightening even the most daunting circumstances. And, truthfully, Klaus's sincerity—though rare—intrigued her. She wanted to understand the man behind the legend.

By the time late afternoon rolled around, Lyja found herself walking up to the compound once again, this time alone. Davina had begged off, claiming she had something important to finish at the church, but Lyja suspected her sister was just giving her space to bond with Hope (and perhaps Klaus).

The compound's heavy doors opened before she could knock, and Hope greeted her with the same bright smile that seemed to light up the entire room.

"You came!" Hope exclaimed, grabbing Lyja's hand and pulling her inside. "I have so much to show you!"

"Hey, Hope," Lyja said, laughing as the little girl practically dragged her toward the drawing table in the corner of the room. "What's this about new art?"

Hope's face lit up as she pointed to a stack of drawings. "I've been practicing animals! Look, I did a wolf, a horse, and even a bird. Daddy helped me with the shading."

Lyja picked up the drawings, marveling at Hope's talent. Each sketch was better than the last, the details sharper, the lines more confident. "These are amazing, Hope. You're getting better every time."

"Really?" Hope asked, her eyes wide with excitement.

"Really," Lyja said, ruffling her hair. "You're a natural."

Klaus appeared in the doorway, a glass of wine in his hand, watching the interaction with a faint smile. "She gets that from her mother," he said softly.

Lyja glanced at him, the rare vulnerability in his voice catching her off guard. "Well, she's got a lot of talent, that's for sure."

"Daddy, can Lyja stay for dinner?" Hope asked, looking up at Klaus with wide, pleading eyes.

Klaus raised an eyebrow, his smirk returning. "That depends. Do you think she can handle an evening with us?"

Lyja crossed her arms, arching an eyebrow back at him. "I think I'll survive."

"Then it's settled," Klaus said, gesturing toward the dining room. "Shall we?"

The dining room was as grand as the rest of the compound, with a long wooden table that seemed to stretch on forever. Klaus took his usual seat at the head, and Hope eagerly pulled Lyja to sit beside her.

The meal was simple yet elegant, a mix of roasted vegetables, grilled chicken, and fresh bread. Lyja couldn't help but feel a little out of place amidst the opulence, but Hope's chatter kept her grounded.

"Lyja, do you like to draw?" Hope asked between bites of bread.

"Not as much as you," Lyja admitted with a laugh. "But I used to doodle when I was younger."

"You should draw with me next time," Hope said, her face lighting up. "It'll be fun!"

"I'd like that," Lyja said, smiling.

As they ate, Klaus watched the interaction quietly, his expression unreadable. When Hope excused herself to grab something from her room, he leaned forward, his tone low but not unkind.

"You're good with her," Klaus said, swirling his wine glass. "Better than most."

"She makes it easy," Lyja replied, meeting his gaze. "She's a great kid."

"She is," Klaus said, his voice softening. "Which is why I'm so particular about who I let into her life."

Lyja tilted her head, studying him. "And yet you invited me here. Why?"

Klaus smirked, leaning back in his chair. "You intrigue me, Lyja. You're different from the others. Grounded, as I said before. And Hope seems to adore you."

"Well, I adore her too," Lyja said honestly. "She's got a big heart. I can see where she gets it from."

Klaus raised an eyebrow, surprised by the compliment. "You're full of surprises."

Before Lyja could respond, Hope returned with her sketchpad, and the conversation shifted back to lighter topics. The rest of the evening passed in a blur of laughter and stories, the tension that usually surrounded Klaus seeming to melt away in Hope's presence.

As the evening came to an end, Klaus walked Lyja to the door while Hope stayed behind, tidying up her art supplies. The night air was cool, and the city's usual hum seemed quieter than usual.

"Thank you for coming," Klaus said, his voice sincere. "It meant a great deal to Hope."

"She's easy to say yes to," Lyja replied, glancing back toward the compound. "And, surprisingly, so are you."

Klaus chuckled softly. "Careful, Lyja. Compliments like that might make me think you're warming up to me."

She smirked, stepping out into the night. "Don't get ahead of yourself."

Klaus watched her for a moment, his expression unreadable once again. "Good night, Lyja."

"Good night," she said, walking away.

As she made her way home, Lyja couldn't help but feel like her world had shifted slightly. The Mikaelsons weren't what she'd expected—especially Klaus. And despite her best efforts to keep her distance, she couldn't deny the pull she felt toward their strange, chaotic family.