It's been five years since the Mikaelson family went into hiding.
Marcel Gerard has become invincible, able to take out any supernatural being, original vampire or not. His reign over New Orleans has been restored, but this time, he not only has hi...
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"You were in love with my mother?" Evangeline gasped, clutching the towel tighter against her petite body.
"Your mother and I went far back." Elijah sighed. "I assume you were aware of her ability to jump into different bodies each decade."
She nodded. "She didn't fully explain it, but I know some of what she had done in the past. She was in the body of some woman named Sabine Laurent when I was born."
Elijah made a humming sound in the back of his throat. "I knew your mother in her true form. We met in the early nineteenth century."
"The nineteenth century?!" Evangeline asked, dumbfounded.
"Your mother had the ability to sustain her true soul in the bodies of different witches, therefore allowing her to live out her life until they died. Then she would jump into another body. It was a seemingly endless cycle."
"I was too young to care when she tried explaining it to me." Evangeline sighed, staring at her toes. "I wish I had paid better attention."
"Your mother was an exquisite woman." He sent her a soft smile. "I should've known you two were related. You carry many of the same features."
"Did my mother share the same love for you as you did for her?" Evangeline asked quietly.
"I truly believe she did." Elijah replied. "Until, Niklaus destroyed any type of relationship we had left."
"Niklaus was the reason she died the first time." She growled under her breath. "I remember my mother telling me the worst things about him most of all."
Evangeline sat on the edge of the tub still trying to wrap her head around the fact that her mother had personally known one of the Mikaelsons.
Had that been why she was so paranoid about them when she was a child? Could her warnings have come due to Niklaus?
"Her book makes complete sense." Elijah sighed. "No one else would know that much information on our family besides Céleste."
Evangeline watched as he leaned against the bathroom wall, eyes nailed on the floor.
"Elijah?" She asked.
"Yes, Evangeline?"
"My mother spent most of my life telling me stories. She would speak of the myths of New Orleans, the creatures, the grand parties, the people living there at the time. But in the last few months before she died, she drilled only one story into my brain."
