Davina Claire was drowning in a pool of her own blood, choking for air as she struggled to breathe and keep calm. There was a spell, there was a way to undo this, she knew that; she just… she had to remain calm. Her fingers clasped the hourglass in her hands tightly; she was unwilling to relinquish it.
There was a horrendous snarl somewhere, and Davina growled as she gagged on her blood, rolling to her side as she forced herself up.
It. Was. Not. Ending. Like. This!
She was a Twice Resurrected Harvest Girl, last of the Claire Coven, a New Orleans witch! She had defeated all her enemies, gone toe-to-toe with the Mikaelsons at their peak and come out of it alive, and Death couldn't keep her down. She wasn't letting it end like this! The magic was flowing around her as her temper strengthened her.
Stumbling to her feet, she staggered a bit; the wound was still bleeding. She could feel it killing her, but she ignored it as she lurched through the hall to the auditorium, where she saw her husband go flying through the air. That thing had Hope pinned down and seemed to be killing her niece; the sight had fury unparalleled coursing through her as she snarled.
"Hey!" she shouted, and the monster swung its head around to look at her, snarling.
"Stay. Away. From. My. Niece!" she ordered as she tore it away from Hope with a yank of her hand to send the monster crashing through the wall and into the burning daylight of a dying day.
Kol was there, but she waved him off as she staggered slightly. "Check Hope," she ordered her husband. Davina didn't hear his protests as she shoved him off. It was too late for her; Hope seemed to be struggling to get up and would need help. Kol was reluctant to leave her but rushed their niece as Davina held herself up on the wall. Davina trembled as she tried to breathe.
"Davina!" a shout called her as her world wavered and then went tumbling. Hitting the ground didn't hurt so much as jarring her wound, feeling more blood pumping through her, pooling around her; it was slowing, trickling really; she could feel its change.
"Auntie D!" Hope and Kol filled her world view then. She felt Kol's fingers in her hair and smiled a bit when he came into view. Her hand tightened on the hourglass they had brought here to investigate. The strange, unique object that had just appeared in hers and Kol's lives.
"I got you, love," Kol promised her.
"Do something!" Hope screeched. "You can turn her! I'll turn her!"
"No," Kol stated firmly as he cradled her head in his lap. "No Hope, we aren't turning her," Kol said softly as he traced her cheek with his thumb.
Davina focused on Kol; her breath shuddered. The blood tasted horrible on her tongue; it was drowning her. Kol couldn't save her; she knew that. She had long since refused to be turned, knowing herself and knowing what vampirism would do. Vampirism heightened everything a person already was, and Davina was self-aware enough to know her being a vampire, after having been a witch, would be an unbelievably bad and dangerous thing. She also knew what it had done to Cami, who had been the best of them, and if it did that to Cami, Davina knew she could never be allowed to turn. Kol had known that too, which was why he hadn't pressed her too hard on turning. She knew there were times he pondered how to slip around her wishes because he dreaded them parting, but she had encouraged him to embrace her mortality with her. And with how the cure worked, she and Kol had resigned themselves to this life, together, even as she got older and grayer, and he stayed the same.
She reached for Kol with bloody fingers and smiled as he pressed her hand to his cheek.
"S'alright," she slurred weakly, coughing as she choked on blood, gagging, and coughing. "Love…" she gasped.
There were voices, but they were distant; she could hear her niece screaming, and she smiled at Kol. He smiled back weakly; she could feel the world slipping from her grasp. This was alright, not the way she wanted to go, but this was alright. Kol was safe. Hope was safe.
The hourglass burned hot in her hand; broken shards of the cursed object were tearing her skin.
"Not yet, Davina. Claire, they cannot claim you yet," a voice rasped in her ear as a pair of blue eyes burned into her soul. Davina couldn't even scream as it felt like she was being torn apart and burned alive. "I claim you for the Nornir."
-------------------------------------------
The echoing silence roused her from her deep sleep. It was quiet, far too quiet; Kol snored like a freight train. Davina hovered in that state between awake and asleep as she listened for Kol's snores; rolling over, she reached across their bed to feel for him. A shiver rippled down her skin as she felt nothing but a wooden floor, which had her frowning as she peeled open an eye. There was no Kol; he always slept beside her, which confused her as she slowly looked around. The bed was a mattress with a few musty blankets and a bundled-up jacket as a pillow. Slowly she pushed herself up, hissing as sharp pressure tore up her palm and arm. Lifting her hand, she looked at the bloodied palm, with shards of glass sticking up.
Shoving her hair out of her eyes, she looked around for Kol, not feeling, seeing, or sensing her husband had her uncomfortable. After nearly twenty years with the man, she had never been apart from him; now she was alone in… an attic?
There was a sharp creaking, which had her head whipping around as she scrambled up, stumbling on her bare feet, and tripping to fall on her ass. There was a heavy clunk, which had her seeing the broken hourglass she and Kol had found spinning before it fell on the wooden planks. Rolling to her knees, she picked it up with her bloody hand, feeling the burning heat of the sand and shards of glass.
"Good mornin', chère," a familiar voice said softly, and her head snapped up. Marcel stood there, a shy smile on his face as he gave her a gentle, loving look.
Davina wanted to burst into tears and throw herself at him, because it had been a good decade since she'd seen her dad. And there he was, smiling that shy smile he'd first given her.
"I got you some things," he said uncertainly. There was an easel and art supplies in his hand, and there was another bag, probably of clothes. It was so like her first day after the Harvest. Slowly she stood, too flummoxed seeing her dad to process this dream. If this was her afterlife.
The tears started as she ran for him, flinging herself at him as she threw her arms around him, the sob tearing through her body to rattle her. There was a clatter, but she didn't care as she sobbed, the deep, ugly sobs that robbed her of breath and voice as she gasped for air, clinging to Marcel. Slowly Marcel brought his arms around her; she could feel his hesitance, but it didn't matter as she sobbed.
"It's alright, it's alright," he soothed as he ran a hand through her hair. "No one's going to find you," he promised. Davina hid her face against his neck as she tried to catch her breath and calm herself.
"Where am I?" she whispered as she finally caught her breath, blinking back the flow of tears, slowly releasing him as she looked around the attic she had once resided in. It was as barren as the first day Marcel had brought her here; it was the strangest afterlife she'd ever encountered.
"The old church," Marcel answered. "Don't worry, I have a bed coming for you today, and a dresser and a trunk too, and a few other things. We can spruce it up a bit; it's just temporary, but it's yours…" He trailed off.
Slowly Davina dropped her hug as she looked around; this had not been her home in a very long time.
"You're bleeding," Marcel caught her hand. She paused as she looked at him, then at her bloody palm; blood welled where he pressed his fingers to examine the damage, which had her eyes widening. She wasn't… she wasn't dead!? How!? Never in her afterlives had she bled; she had suffered the wounds inflicted upon her at the times of her deaths, but never had she bled in the afterlife, so she had to be alive!? But how? And where was she? No, that was a ridiculous question; she knew this attic. When seemed a more important question to ponder.
"I'm fine," she murmured as she sniffled her nose, grabbing a towel to blow it. Crying had been ugly, and her nose was running. She saw the trinket on the floor by the mattress. Marcel grabbed her hand again and carefully began pulling out the shards of glass.
"What happened, D?" Marcel asked as he worked.
"I'm fine," she muttered again as he finished his work, pulling a bandana to wrap around her palm. Davina curled her fingers as she pulled her hand away, holding it close to her heart as she stared at her dad.
"Hey, me also." Marcel sped off and returned with a different bag. "Got you some clean clothes," he announced with a kind smile. "The bartender at Rousseau's offered some… finer points on what you'd possibly… need," he said uncomfortably as he produced another bag.
"Cami?" she whispered in disbelief. Cami was alive!? Then that means Tim, Josh, and Aiden were all alive too… All her friends, her family, all the Mikaelsons… Kol!
"How do you know Cami?" Marcel asked.
"I… I remember her," she answered honestly. "She was nice," she offered up.
Marcel shrugged that off as he nodded. "The witches won't be looking for you here, so in the meantime, just… I don't know. This isn't permanent," he sighed as he looked haplessly at her.
"I…" she started, then bit her lip. The hourglass was still by the mattress. She needed information about when she was; she knew where, but when—when exactly was she? And how? She needed Kol if she had messed with time magic, and she didn't even know if he was still alive.
She looked up at Marcel, who was looking as uncertain as she was.
"You alright?" he asked.
"What's the date?" she blurted out.
"February second," he answered.
Kol was alive! That was her first thought; her second thought was the idiot wouldn't stay that way for long. She didn't know all the details of Kol's first death, just that it was because he was impulsive and angry.
"You slept all of yesterday," Marcel told her, which had her touching her throat. "It's alright," he promised. "You're… You're safe, D, I promise," he said as he reached over to her.
"Um… yeah, I'm just… I'm hungry," she said.
"Food, okay, yeah, I can get food," he nodded and smiled. Davina smiled back, weakly, because she didn't know how not to. Marcel asked her a few more questions about food before he disappeared to go get her food.
Alone finally, Davina sank onto the mattress; a part of her that had been too confused by the events happening around her hadn't noticed the familiar, unwelcome, overpowering sensation of the Harvest roiling in her blood. She could also feel the ancestors reaching for her, feel the souls of Monique, Abigail, and Cassandra trapped within her own body, as their magics collided, bombarding, and reacting to the others'. Slowly she tuned out the pain as she picked up the trinket that had bloodied her hand.
It was small, four rotating rings around an hourglass in a disk. The outermostring was made of iron and silver, which was contradictory; etched on the outside of the ring were Nordic runes, and on the inside of the ring there were inscriptions in Mayan. The second ring was of platinum and nickel; again, there was Greek inscribed on the outside of the ring and Sanskrit stamped on the interior of the ring. The third ring was copper and cobalt; the outside of the ring was inscribed with Chinese, and the interior had Latin emblazoned into it. The fourth and smallest ring was entirely gold; engraved on the exterior of the ring were Egyptian hieroglyphs, and the interior was marked with Hebrew. The disk around the hourglass was an elaborate Celtic/Norse design of two foxes, while on the other side was a solar and lunar calendar, with the zodiacs carved in with care.
This small, mismatched artifact was ancient, but it wasn't. It was composed of contradictions, and the magic within it had felt ancient but gone. Davina remembered how she and Kol had called up Freya and Vincent to investigate this. Freya had not been helpful; Vincent had not known what it was. Kol had called up several of his other contacts, but no leads. Eventually she and Kol had decided to investigate Hope's school for some answers.
This artifact had appeared out of nowhere on her kitchen counter one morning.
Davina looked up when Marcel reappeared with food, which had her tucking the artifact away.
"Now, I know this isn't much, but if there's anything you need, anything at all," he started.
"A laptop," she said softly. "Um… just to, you know, I'm not going to contact anyone; I just want to see the outside world," she offered lamely.
"Sure, sure, we can get that," he smiled.
Davina smiled meekly.
If she had a computer, she'd have a starting point for what the hell was going on, and she'd have a way to track Kol.
But this was provided. Kol wasn't dead. Yet.
If Kol wasn't dead yet, then she could save him, and if she saved him, then maybe he and his freaky witch encyclopedic brain could figure out what exactly had happened. They hadn't even thought about time magic because it was impossible; time moved in one direction for residents of this plane of existence, and that was forward. Time travel was a myth in witch communities and a forbidden magic because it always went terribly wrong. And Kol would know something about time magic with how long he had lived.
Davina didn't care if Kol knew her at this point or not; she knew she could get him to help her. Kol was wily, unpredictable, and dangerous, and as cunning as a fox, but he was fond of witches, and he liked a challenge. This would be one hell of a challenge for him, and she was a witch. Those facts upped her odds of surviving her husband's temper.
It didn't take long for her to get her hands on a laptop; Marcel left her to her own devices then. She knew he would be out to make false trails about her location and where he'd take her. Davina had taken a moment to block the ancestors and cast a cloaking spell before settling on figuring out her next moves.
She remembered Kol mentioning offhandedly before that he had been in Mystic Falls, and she knew he would die there, which would make it a good place to intercept Kol. Klaus and Rebekah had been the ones to inform her of how her husband had died the first time, when Jeremy Gilbert had come to New Orleans and fainted at the sight of Kol. Kol hadn't elaborated on his first death, and she had witnessed his second death, so she didn't want to pry too hard into that trauma; still, she had been curious why some guy would faint at the sight of Kol.
Davina rubbed her brow.
If she were here now, she could change so many things; she could prevent Kol's deaths, Dahlia's return, Freya's betrayal, the Hollow, the deaths of the Mikaelsons and her family, and Esther. She could prevent the ancestor's total corruption of the living, which admittedly might make her life easier, and she was selfish to desire it, but she hated how they ruined so much of her life. Davina hated Esther and Mikal with a fiery passion after she had gotten to know Kol more. She had learned all about the abuses his parents had inflicted upon their children for selfish, nonsensical reasons. But if she killed them both now and stored their bodies away to defeat Dahlia, then it would be a win. She'd just have to make sure to seal Esther away and not permit her to be consecrated with the witches of New Orleans.
Of course, Davina knew she would have to die, but if she could prevent the corruption of the ancestors, then perhaps they could remain true to their purpose and uncorrupted, which would be good for all magic in New Orleans, and that notion made dying less scary.
She was quick to locate Mystic Falls, Virginia.
Marcel appeared with more furnishings, and Davina kept herself small and quiet, trying to act scared.
Marcel was kind and funny, especially with stupid dad jokes; she swore he had a handbook of those lying around somewhere, which had her wanting to throw herself at him and beg for his help. Davina knew he wouldn't; not right at this moment, he was still angry with and hurt by the Mikaelsons.
And hell would have to freeze over and implode before Marcel voluntarily helped Kol.
Which meant she needed to figure out what the hell had happened and why she was here again on her own right now. To do that, she needed Kol. Marcel wouldn't piss on Kol if he were on fire, which meant Marcel wouldn't help Davina get to Kol.
She'd have to get to Mystic Falls on her own.
Maybe she could run into Hayley on the way out of Mystic Falls and prevent Sophie Deveraux and the Covens from attempting to use Hayley to instigate war. She didn't want Marcel and Josh caught in the crossfire again.
Davina wrote out a quick note telling Marcel she was fine, but she had a witch matter to handle; she thanked him for saving her and said she'd be in touch soon. Leaving it at that, she noted she'd have to get a phone first on her trip.
Grabbing a bag, she stuffed the clothes he had just brought her into it, snatched up the hourglass and put it in the bag, wrapped in the Harvest dress. Grabbing her quilt and pillow, then the laptop, she jogged out of the church. It didn't take her long to find a car to steal; it was a rusted-out, massive old Ford truck, but it would work. Getting in, she found a map in the glove box and smirked before she started it up and started heading to Virginia.
The sooner she got to Kol, the sooner she could figure out why she wasn't dead and what exactly was going on.