The cemetery was eerily quiet, the moonlight casting long shadows over the weathered tombstones and crumbling mausoleums. Lyja adjusted the straps of her jacket as she and Davina carefully etched runes into the dirt around a central crypt. The air was thick with the scent of earth and sage, and the weight of magic lingered in every corner of the sacred ground.
"You're sure this is necessary?" Lyja asked, glancing at her sister as she lit a bundle of sage.
Davina nodded, her expression serious. "If we want to keep whatever dark magic is stirring out of the Quarter, we need to strengthen the barriers here. The cemetery is a hotspot for supernatural energy, and if it falls, the rest of the city won't be far behind."
Lyja sighed, crouching down to trace another rune into the dirt. "You'd think this place would get a break every now and then."
"It's New Orleans," Davina said with a wry smile. "Breaks don't exist here."
They worked in focused silence, the only sounds the rustle of leaves and the distant hum of the city. By the time they finished, the moon was high in the sky, casting its cold light over the cemetery.
"That should do it," Davina said, brushing dirt off her hands. "Thanks for helping."
"Of course," Lyja said, standing and stretching. "But next time, can we not do this in the middle of the night?"
Before Davina could respond, a familiar voice broke the stillness.
"Late-night witchcraft, I see."
Both sisters turned to see Klaus stepping out from behind a tomb, his sharp blue eyes gleaming in the moonlight. He was dressed in his usual black coat, his hands casually tucked into his pockets as he approached.
"Klaus," Davina said, her tone guarded. "What are you doing here?"
Klaus smirked, his gaze flicking between the two of them. "I was merely passing through when I sensed the stirring of magic. Imagine my surprise when I found the two of you here."
Lyja crossed her arms, narrowing her eyes at him. "You have a habit of showing up uninvited."
"And yet, here I am," Klaus said, his smirk softening into something almost… warm. "Actually, Lyja, I was hoping to have a word with you."
Davina glanced at her sister, her expression unreadable. "I'll give you two some space," she said finally, gathering her supplies and heading toward the cemetery gates. "Just don't let him talk you into anything crazy."
"Thanks for the vote of confidence," Lyja called after her, though her tone was light.
Once they were alone, Klaus turned his full attention to her, his expression unreadable. "You've been busy," he remarked, gesturing to the freshly carved runes and the lingering scent of magic.
Lyja shrugged. "Just trying to keep the city from falling apart. You know, the usual."
Klaus chuckled softly. "And doing an admirable job, I'm sure."
She raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms. "Is that why you're here? To hand out compliments?"
"Not quite," Klaus said, stepping closer. "I came to extend an invitation."
Lyja tilted her head, studying him. "An invitation to what?"
"A lunch date," Klaus said smoothly, his gaze unwavering. "Tomorrow afternoon. Just the two of us."
Lyja blinked, caught off guard. "A date?"
Klaus's lips curved into a faint smirk. "Call it what you like. I thought it might be… enjoyable to spend some time together outside the chaos of the Quarter."
She hesitated, her instincts screaming at her to be cautious. But there was something in Klaus's eyes—something genuine, almost vulnerable—that made her pause.
"Why?" she asked, her voice quieter now. "Why do you want to spend time with me?"
Klaus's smirk faded, and he looked at her with surprising honesty. "Because you intrigue me, Lyja. You're not like the others in this city. You're grounded, strong, and unafraid to challenge me. It's refreshing."
She stared at him, unsure of what to say. The infamous hybrid was standing before her, asking her out, and for once, he didn't seem like the calculating manipulator everyone warned her about. He seemed… human.
After a long moment, she sighed. "Fine. But if this turns into some kind of power play, I'm out."
Klaus's smile returned, a touch of amusement lighting his eyes. "Fair enough. I'll pick you up at noon."
Before she could respond, he turned and disappeared into the shadows, leaving her alone in the quiet cemetery. Lyja stood there for a moment, her heart pounding as she tried to process what had just happened.
A lunch date with Klaus Mikaelson. What could possibly go wrong?
The next afternoon, Lyja found herself standing outside her apartment building, waiting for Klaus. The midday sun was warm, casting a golden glow over the bustling streets of the Quarter. She had dressed casually but neatly, a simple sundress paired with her favorite boots, trying to balance looking presentable without overthinking it. After all, this was Klaus Mikaelson—casual wasn't exactly his style.
A sleek black car pulled up to the curb, and Klaus stepped out, his tailored suit perfectly pressed as if he had just stepped out of a magazine. His signature smirk was in place as he approached her.
"You look lovely," he said, his tone smooth and genuine.
Lyja crossed her arms, fighting the blush creeping up her neck. "You're overdressed."
Klaus chuckled, gesturing to the car. "Shall we?"
With a sigh, she stepped into the car, and they drove through the lively streets of New Orleans. Klaus didn't say much during the ride, but his presence filled the space, making her both nervous and oddly intrigued.
The car stopped in front of a charming restaurant tucked away in one of the quieter corners of the Quarter. Its wrought-iron balcony was adorned with hanging plants, and the sign above the door read Le Petite Creole. The scent of Cajun spices wafted through the air, making Lyja's stomach rumble.
"A local favorite," Klaus said as he held the door open for her. "I thought you might appreciate something traditional."
Inside, the restaurant was warm and inviting, with wooden tables, exposed brick walls, and soft jazz playing in the background. They were seated at a cozy table near the window, and a waiter appeared almost immediately with menus.
"Anything you recommend?" Lyja asked as she scanned the menu, though the array of dishes was already making her mouth water.
Klaus smiled, leaning back in his chair. "When in New Orleans, one must indulge in the classics. I'd suggest starting with gumbo or jambalaya. Perhaps some crawfish étouffée. And, of course, a proper drink to accompany it."
Lyja smirked. "You sound like a food critic."
"Merely someone who appreciates the finer things in life," Klaus replied with a wink.
The waiter returned, and they placed their orders. Lyja chose a bowl of seafood gumbo to start, followed by crawfish étouffée, while Klaus opted for jambalaya and a side of fried alligator bites. For drinks, Lyja went with a Sazerac—an iconic New Orleans cocktail—while Klaus ordered a Vieux Carré, his choice as refined as ever.
As they waited for their food, Klaus watched her with a faint smile. "So, Lyja, how are you finding New Orleans? Is it living up to its reputation?"
Lyja shrugged, leaning back in her chair. "It's… overwhelming at times. But there's something about it—like it's alive in a way most places aren't. I can see why people are drawn to it."
Klaus nodded, swirling his drink. "The city has a way of pulling people in, binding them to its magic. It's both a blessing and a curse."
"And where do you fall on that spectrum?" she asked, genuinely curious.
His smile faded slightly, and he looked out the window as if lost in thought. "For me, it's home. Chaotic, dangerous, and often unforgiving—but still home."
Lyja watched him, her defenses softening. It was moments like this, when his sharp edges dulled just enough to reveal the man beneath, that made her wonder what it was that truly drove Klaus Mikaelson.
When the food arrived, the rich aromas filled the air, and Lyja's mouth watered. The gumbo was thick and flavorful, every bite a perfect balance of spices and seafood. The crawfish étouffée was just as indulgent, the buttery sauce coating the tender crawfish tails.
Klaus watched her with amusement as she took her first bite, her eyes widening in delight. "Good?"
"Better than good," Lyja said, reaching for her drink. The Sazerac was smooth, with just the right amount of sweetness and a hint of bitterness from the absinthe.
Klaus nodded, taking a sip of his Vieux Carré. "I'm glad to see you appreciating the local cuisine. Too many people come to this city and miss out on its true flavors."
They ate and drank, the conversation flowing more easily as the meal went on. Klaus told her stories of New Orleans' history, some of which he had witnessed firsthand, while Lyja shared tales of her life before the city, surprising herself with how much she opened up.
By the time they finished their meal, Lyja felt a strange sense of ease, as if she were sitting across from an old friend rather than one of the most infamous figures in the supernatural world.
As they stepped out of the restaurant, the afternoon sun had given way to the golden glow of early evening. Klaus walked beside her, his hands tucked casually into his pockets.
"Thank you," Lyja said, glancing at him. "That was… actually really nice."
"I'm glad you enjoyed it," Klaus said, his smile warm. "It's not every day I get to share a meal with someone who truly appreciates the spirit of this city."
Lyja rolled her eyes, though she couldn't hide her smile. "You're surprisingly good company when you're not trying to intimidate people."
"I'll take that as a compliment," Klaus said with a chuckle.
They stopped at the corner, and Klaus turned to her, his gaze softer than she'd ever seen it. "I hope this won't be the last time we share a meal, Lyja."
She hesitated, her heart skipping a beat at the sincerity in his voice. "We'll see."
Klaus smiled, inclining his head. "Fair enough. Until next time."
With that, he disappeared into the shadows, leaving Lyja standing on the street corner, her thoughts a jumble of emotions. She couldn't deny it anymore—there was something about Klaus Mikaelson that intrigued her, something that made her want to see past the legend and into the man.
And for the first time, she wasn't sure whether that was a good thing or a dangerous one.
Lyja stretched her tired muscles as she stepped into her small bathroom, the steam from the hot water already filling the air. It had been a long day, and the weight of her lunch with Klaus lingered in her mind. She couldn't shake the intensity of their conversation—or the way his piercing gaze had felt like he was looking straight through her.
Davina had given her a mix of herbs earlier that week, promising it would help her relax and clear her head. Lyja emptied the small pouch into the steaming bath, the fragrant blend of lavender, chamomile, and rosemary filling the room. She slipped into the water, the warmth immediately soothing her tense muscles.
Sinking deeper into the tub, she rested her head against the edge, her eyes fluttering shut. The day's events swirled in her mind, blending with the calming scent of the herbs. She felt her body relax further, the water cradling her like a gentle embrace.
The dream started innocently enough. Lyja was back in the heart of the French Quarter, the sounds of jazz and laughter filling the air. She was walking through the lively streets, the colors of the city vibrant and alive. But something felt… off. There was an energy in the air, thick and electric, and she felt as though she were being watched.
As she turned a corner, she saw them.
Marcel stood on one side of the cobblestone street, his smile warm and inviting, while Klaus stood opposite him, his expression sharp and possessive. Both men were looking at her, their eyes filled with an intensity that made her stomach twist.
"Lyja," Marcel said, his voice smooth and confident. "Come with me. I'll show you the real New Orleans—the parts that make this city worth loving."
"No," Klaus interjected, his tone firm but not harsh. "She doesn't need your empty promises, Marcel. Lyja, you're better than that. Stay with me, and I'll show you a world you've never dreamed of."
Lyja blinked, her heart pounding as they both stepped closer, their presence overwhelming.
"I don't need either of you to show me anything," she said, her voice stronger than she expected. "This city isn't yours to define."
Marcel's smirk softened into something more sincere. "Maybe not, but you make it better just by being in it. You belong here—with me."
Klaus's gaze darkened, but his voice was quieter, almost pleading. "You don't understand yet, Lyja. But you will. There's a connection between us. Something deeper. Don't deny it."
The air around them seemed to hum with tension, the city's vibrant colors fading into muted tones as the two men stood on either side of her, waiting for her to choose.
"I—"
Before she could finish her sentence, the ground beneath her began to crumble, and the world blurred around her. The sounds of the Quarter disappeared, replaced by the rushing sound of water.
Lyja's eyes snapped open as cold water splashed onto her face. She gasped, sitting up in the tub and realizing with horror that the water had overflowed, spilling onto the tiled floor. The candles she'd lit had burned low, and the bathroom was dim, the once-soothing atmosphere now chaotic.
"Shit," she muttered, scrambling out of the tub and grabbing a towel to mop up the mess. Her heart was racing, her skin clammy from both the dream and the chill of the water.
As she cleaned up, the dream lingered in her mind, vivid and unsettling. The intensity of Marcel and Klaus fighting for her attention felt all too real, their words echoing in her head.
When she finally finished cleaning up, she sat on the edge of the tub, her damp hair sticking to her neck. "What the hell was that?" she whispered to herself.
She couldn't shake the feeling that the dream was more than just her subconscious playing tricks on her. The energy she had felt, the pull between Marcel and Klaus—it was like the city itself was trying to tell her something.
But what? And why?
With a heavy sigh, Lyja wrapped herself in a towel and headed to bed, her thoughts swirling with questions she wasn't sure she wanted answers to. One thing was certain: her life in New Orleans was becoming more complicated with each passing day. And whether she liked it or not, she was at the center of something much bigger than she'd ever anticipated.