"Alright... Jenna... this is Amara," I sighed, looking at Jenna and gesturing toward Amara. "Amara... this is Jenna, my wife."
"Ohhh, so you were married," Amara spoke in a cheerful tone. "She's beautiful. Congratulations, Nik."
Amara seemed genuinely happy, while Jenna took a step back, startled.
"What on earth is going on here?" she asked, her voice trembling. "You're tied up with barbed wire and you're bleeding—how can you be smiling?"
God damn it, seriously... Why me? Seriously... Was this what Qetsiyah meant by the consequences of altering destiny?
Is destiny really that petty? To punish with such inconvenient nonsense? Isn't destiny supposed to ruin people's lives in the most cruel way possible?
But messing with me like this? What's the point? Now I don't even know if I should be grateful or furious.
"No, no, my situation is actually very good," Amara smiled happily, shifting beneath the barbed wire and wincing as she hurt herself. "A few years ago I was in total mess—like, once Nik took charge of things for me... my life got so much better."
Her eyes shone as she spoke. Who the hell taught her to swear? Was it Mary or Alex? Seriously?
Jenna, still in shock, looked at me with anger rising in her eyes.
"What do you mean, 'took charge'?" she said sharply, biting her lip. "Are you a slaver now? Selling people into slavery? Is anything you've told me actually true?"
Damn it, go to hell destiny—Jenna looks like she's about to snap.
"No, look at this." I picked up a small blade from the bedside table beside Amara's bed and, with a quick motion, cut Amara across the cheek.
She didn't even blink—compared to what she'd endured, this was nothing—but Jenna cried out.
"Nik..." She reached for the blade, trying to take it from my hand, but I held her back gently.
"Look at her," I said. And in that same moment, the cut on Amara's face healed and vanished.
"Oh my god..." Jenna covered her mouth with her hand, staring in disbelief. "What are you?"
"She is immortal," I said, doing my best to keep my voice steady and calm. "She crossed a very old, very unhinged witch, and that witch bound her and tortured her. Recently, I did some work for this witch, and she handed Amara over to me. Amara... why don't you tell your side of things?"
"Of course!" Amara beamed, and began to tell Jenna her story.
Jenna sat on a bench, glancing around for an exit, but I'd made sure there was nowhere to run.
As much as I love Jenna, I cannot let her start something that could put my children in danger. If it comes down to it, I'll compel her. If I have to, I'll walk away—from her, from Jeremy, from Elena. My children's safety comes before everything.
"Wait..." Jenna nearly gasped. "You were tortured for two thousand years because you fell in love with your mistress's husband?"
"Unfortunately," Amara said simply. "I was young and foolish."
"But... two thousand years? That's horrible," Jenna whispered, her hand over her mouth. "This witch sounds truly unhinged... Nik, how do you even know someone like that?"
Jenna looked at me, concerned—and honestly, it made sense.
"Well... I needed a favor from her," I admitted with a sigh. "My Plan A and Plan B both fell apart, so I tracked down her descendants and struck up a conversation through them."
"What kind of favor?" Jenna asked, wide-eyed. "And how did you get her to give you Amara?"
"Well... I hunted down the witch's ex-lover and handed him over to her," I sighed. "Lucky for me, I had a pretty good idea where he was hiding."
"Good riddance," Amara said brightly. "Now she has someone else to torment instead of me."
"Wait... just wait a second," Jenna stared at me, horrified. "You tracked someone down and handed them over to a sociopath? And all so you could get this girl?"
I took a breath. This was the moment.
"Jenna... look at Amara," I said, holding her gaze. Amara looked at her too, open and calm. "Doesn't she remind you of someone?"
Jenna went quiet for a moment, then her eyes went wide.
"She looks like Elena... only older," she said, confused. "What does that mean, Nik?"
"Biologically... Amara and Elena are the same person," I said quietly.
"Really? Is there another me?" Amara asked, intrigued.
"What do you mean?" Jenna shook her head. "You just said she's thousands of years old—how can she be the same person as Elena?"
"I'd like to know too," Amara leaned forward, curious.
"Alright," I said, pointing to Amara. "This one here is immortal. Nothing can truly kill her—and that goes against the natural order. So every now and then, nature creates a copy of her. A shadow. A doppelgänger. Someone who can die, to balance out the fact that she never will."
"Oh my god..." Jenna went pale. "So Elena was born just so she could die?"
"Isn't everyone?" I said softly, brushing a strand of hair from her face. She flinched slightly but didn't pull away. "It's okay. Elena isn't going anywhere tomorrow. Nature doesn't want her to just drop dead. Nature wants her to have the life Amara never could—a full, mortal life."
"Is this Elena happy?" Amara asked earnestly. "Can she run and play outside? Is there a version of me that's actually free?"
"Absolutely," I smiled. "Elena's bright, lively, does whatever she wants—full of life."
Jenna's eyes filled with tears.
"I'm so sorry," she said, kneeling carefully in front of Amara and gently touching her face. "I'm so sorry you had to go through all that."
I almost stopped her—afraid she'd brush against the wire and hurt herself—but Jenna was careful. She knew exactly where the barrier was.
Then she looked up at me.
"Nik... could you please let her go?" Jenna asked, her voice soft and pleading.
"No," I said gently but firmly. "There's a chance she has powers like Silas—the other immortal. I can't risk leaving something that powerful unrestrained."
"It's okay," Amara reassured Jenna with a grateful smile. "This is already so much better than before. Nik weakened the curse. I even have a TV now. Mary and Alex look after me really well."
"But..." Jenna started.
"Don't worry about me," Amara said warmly. "This is the closest I've ever come to being free. I'm happy."
"Alright," Jenna murmured, then looked back at me. "But you still haven't told me why the witch gave her to you."
She'd been listening closely. Smart woman. Good for you, Niklaus.
"You know how I told you Elena is Amara's living shadow?" I said with a sigh. "The blood of a doppelgänger, used in the right ritual... can break any curse. Or create almost any magic. And a long, long time ago... my mother cursed me. She was a witch, too."
"What?" Jenna nearly shouted. "So you're a witch?"
"No. I'm a vampire," I said, letting the veins show beneath my eyes and my fangs descend.
Jenna gave a little gasp and I closed my eyes, heart sinking. Great. Now she'll hate me. I could erase her memory. Send her away. Give her enough money to live comfortably and raise Elena and Jeremy in peace, far away from all this darkness.
But instead... she reached up and touched my face. I opened my eyes and saw her—awed, not afraid.
"Wait... so my husband is basically Edward Cullen?" Her eyes lit up.
Are you kidding me?! Anything but that! I should hunt down whoever wrote those books and burn every copy.
"I have so many questions," Jenna said, bright and excited. "But you said... your own mother cursed you?"
"Me and the kids, actually," I said. And I told her everything. The real story of Niklaus Mikaelson. The things I'd done. The lives I'd ruined. I didn't sugarcoat it. I didn't pretend I was some noble hero.
"I know I'm not a good man," I told her honestly. "I've made enemies who had every right to hate me. But having my children changed things. Not completely—I'm still the same monster underneath—but I can't be that monster anymore. Not when they're depending on me."
"Wait... none of this was your fault," Jenna said, her voice thick with emotion. "I'm so sorry, Nik. Your mother... how could she take something like that from you? And try to take your children too?"
"I know, love," I said, kissing her forehead. "That's exactly why I needed Amara. I care about you. I care about Elena. I can't use her as a sacrifice. But I also can't stay vulnerable—not with people like Dahlia hunting my children."
"I don't hate you," Jenna said, biting her lip. "I understand. I'd do the same thing to protect my family. But... sacrificing Amara... is there really no other way?"
"I'm fine with it," Amara chimed in. "If I die, at least I'll finally be free."
No you won't... You'll just go back to Qetsiyah... I won't let her tell you that part.
"But that's terrible," Jenna breathed. "Surely there's another way, Nik?"
"I'm afraid not," I said. "My mother thought of everything. She made certain I could never use a doppelgänger's blood for my own benefit."
And it was true. The original Klaus spent years trying to break that curse and create hybrids, failing every time until Elena's blood finally entered the picture. Esther was always one step ahead. She might not have been the most powerful being around—not compared to Lucifer, Dahlia, or Qetsiyah—but she played the game better than anyone.
"Don't worry," I said, brushing her cheek. "I'm not rushing into anything. I still need to gather the other ingredients first."
"But Amara..." Jenna looked at her, bound and yet smiling so gently...
Later that evening...
I left Jenna with Amara for a while, then headed over to Sheila Bennett's house. The door opened, and I saw those eyes—sharp, wild, mischievous.
Sheila was gone. This was Qetsiyah.
"You've been visiting me quite often lately," Qetsiyah said, leaning back in her chair with an amused smile.
"And you've been watching me every step of the way, haven't you?" I replied, unfazed. "I think you already know why I'm here."
"Of course I do," she grinned, waving a hand. "Who would've guessed a little human woman could soften the heart of the Great Evil? The monster that monsters fear?"
"Marriage is wild," I said, getting straight to the point. "I'm not asking you to lift Amara's curse. But I want you to... adjust it."
"Adjust it?" She tilted her head.
"Instead of tying her to a bed, tie the curse to her will," I said. "Make the pain activate when she disobeys. If she's given an order and she doesn't follow it—let the pain come. But otherwise... let her move."
Qetsiyah's eyes gleamed. "Ohhh... cruel. I like it. False freedom? Why didn't I think of that before?"
She opened a drawer and pulled out seven simple rings, running her fingers over them and chanting something softly under her breath.
"Here," she handed me six of them. "These are yours."
"What are they for?" I asked.
"You'll find out," she smiled, gesturing toward the door. "Now get out. I don't want you lingering around my precious descendants any longer than necessary."
Back at the warehouse...
"AAAAHHHHHHHH!!"
Amara screamed, her eyes streaming tears—blood tears—as the barbed wire tightened around her.
"Stop... please... it hurts..." She sobbed like a child broken by years of pain.
Then the wire began to glow. It dissolved, sinking into her skin like ink, leaving burning red trails across her body. By the time the screaming faded, the barbed wire was gone—but a permanent, glowing tattoo of it wrapped around her entire form.
The curse hadn't been lifted. It had evolved.
Amara stared at her hands. No wire. No chains. She took a breath and sat up—slowly, carefully. Tears spilled down her cheeks. Happy tears.
She swung her legs over the edge of the bed and stood. Her legs wobbled—after years of lying down, her body had forgotten how to stand. She took one step, then stumbled and fell to the cold stone floor.
She didn't curse. She didn't cry. She smiled.
This is what the floor feels like. This is what the world feels like.
She pulled herself back up, clinging to the bedframe, and sat down again to rest.
The thought of running away never even crossed her mind. Qetsiyah had done something brilliant, and terrible. She hadn't just built a prison—she'd built a prison inside her head. Amara was free of the wire... but she would never, ever believe she was truly free.