◤ 𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖙𝖜𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖞-𝖘𝖎𝖝: ❛ as i fall
apart ❜ ◢
✧
THE REVIVED DAVINA DID NOT KNOW WHAT PEACE WAS. Every waking moment of her existence was filled with loud screams, and throwing vases against the wall to ward out any unwelcome visitors, making it nearly impossible to stay at the Compound. She knew it was quite self-centered to make it all about her, but it was a nuisance having the teenager there, though she couldn't explain blame her.
Being killed would make anyone a little crabby, so she understood where Davina came from even though she had never felt the bitter taste of death herself. She remained free from that, but perhaps free was not quite the right word. It wasn't as much of a blessing as it was an inescapable curse that kept her from it.
For someone who couldn't yet die, she thought about that fact a lot. The possibility of death, the feeling of it, as life dripped away from her. Everyone around her had died at least once before – excusing Hayley, who remained just as alive as her. They knew death's cold embrace as it took them, and they knew the warm feeling of waking up again.
Magnus refused to talk about it. He remained adamant to forget when his neck snapped the first time, just a young boy back then, and he never told her again what it was like to die as a vampire temporarily. She remained ignorant to something that surrounded her life, untouchable by death until it took who she loved the most in the world.
Marisol rubbed her temples, a headache formed from the constant screaming match Davina was having with anyone who entered her room. Right now the victim was Marcel, who was trying to get her to eat, though was unsuccessful.
For someone who knew a lot of information about the young witch – or at least enough – she had never actually talked to the girl. Davina remained an unidentified mystery in her life, who was just a big talk yet not a face to go with the name.
She made her way upstairs, entering the thick-tensioned room and sighing. "Marcel, go," she looked at her friend, "Let me talk to her."
"No!" Davina yelled in disagreement, so Marisol turned to glare at her.
Marcel gave her an apprehensive look. "I don't think that's the best idea, Mars."
"Just give me a moment alone with her, okay? It's not like you're making any progress," she softened a little at the worry coating his features, reminding her of herself and Magnus, "Go. You can come back in later."
He gave Davina one last look before leaving the room, closing the door behind him. Davina crossed her arms and Marisol took a seat on the edge of the bed, which she was sure was more than anyone else was able to do.
"You know, I never liked the teenage angst thing that does on around this time of life," she mentioned, remembering faintly Magnus' own angry streak. "It's all so melodramatic, but I guess in your case you get a pass. You did just die."
Davina scoffed. "I've done more than just die."
"Perhaps," Marisol shrugged. She looked around at the knocked over food on the floor, "You really should eat. Soon enough you'll run out of energy if you don't."
"I'm not hungry."
Marisol raised an eyebrow at her. "We both know that's a lie. But alright, go ahead and starve. Frankly, I think I'm the only here who doesn't care about whether or not you live or die. Don't be offended by that, though."
Davina cast her an apprehensive look, eyes looking her up and down. "What do you want from me?"
"Nothing," she shrugged.
The young witch scoffed. "Yeah, right. Everyone wants something from me. I'm the Harvest sacrifice that didn't die."
"Well, technically, you did die. Just not during the Harvest," Marisol joked, laughing quietly to herself even though Davina didn't find the joke hilarious at all, "But it's true. I don't have any need for you. There's no way you can help me with my problems, therefore I don't care about you. And I know that's terribly apathetic, but I think that's better than you being used all the time."
Davina didn't say anything, and Marisol sighed, standing up. "You can be mad at everyone here. You can scream, you can yell, but that doesn't change anything that's happened or will happen. You died, you'll probably die again, you've been used, you'll be used again. Right now, that's your life. And you can be angry, or you can use that to your advantage."
Davina looked at her for a moment. "I just want to be a normal girl. I never wanted any of this."
Marisol stared at her, wanting to soften but forcing herself not to. For a long time, she knew this feeling. When she wanted to be a witch again, not a werewolf protecting her nephew, living as a beast in sheep's clothing. She knew this feeling – deep in her soul, down to the bone – but she could not sympathize.
She would not allow herself to sympathize. She hated herself, and now she was at peace. She couldn't change who she was, she just had to live with it, and Davina would have to learn how to do the same.
"Unfortunately, we don't always get what we want," was all Marisol could offer her. Life wasn't fair, it didn't give you everything you wanted, it destroyed.
She moved to the door, turning back for a moment. "I'll be up again in a few minutes with some food. You should eat and then rest, you're probably exhausted."
Closing the door behind her, Marisol left the room, winding downstairs to the gallery of vampires waiting for her arrival. "Geez, can't a girl have a private conversation with someone?" she joked, though she had an underlying bite.
"Davina doesn't need the apathy you gave her," Marcel cut at her.
She scoffed. "Davina needs people to be honest about their intentions with her. I was. Besides, I'm the only one she's had an actual conversation with since she's got here, so maybe that's exactly what she needs."
"You don't even know her."
"No, but I don't need to. She's an overpowered teenage girl who's been lied to and used by practically everyone in her life. At least I was being honest."
Marcel looked like he wanted to argue, but he kept quiet. Elijah smiled briefly and she raised an eyebrow at him. "Something funny? If I remember correctly, you did manipulate Davina into undoing the linking spell for Hayley and Sophie so you can't say anything."
Though it was for their best that it had been done, it didn't erase that he had also manipulated and used Davina, so she wouldn't spare him. He shrugged, accepting the notion, and she moved on from him.
She went to the kitchen, preparing a quick sandwich for the girl and grabbing a glass of water. Davian was still sulking on the bed when she returned and Marisol placed the plate right in front of her and water on the bedside table.
"There," she said softly, "I can stay if you wanna talk or I can leave you alone."
Davina looked up, opening her mouth to say something before a terrible sound came from her throat and she began to cough, only for dirt to spill onto her hands and the sandwich below.
"Davina?" Marisol called out, "Davina?"
She rushed to the girl, going to inspect, holding her as she coughed up more dirt. The door opened but she didn't look up, focused on the sick girl.
"Bloody hell," Klaus cursed, causing her to finally look up where she saw the three male vampires from downstairs looking at them. A tense moment passed before the house began to shake. Marisol held onto Davina as picture frames fell and Klaus held onto the doorframe.
The tremors stopped as Davina collapsed into Marisol's arms, and gently she laid the girl down on the bed. Everyone was quick to clean up the mess and then, once it was done, reconvene downstairs.
"This is madness," Klaus was the first to speak, "How can a sixteen-year-old girl shake the entire French quarter?"
Marcel sighed. "I've seen her rock the church, but I've never seen anything like this."
"How did you control her when she was in that attic?"
"I didn't have to," Marcel shot a look at Klaus, "But then, I never killed her boyfriend."
Marisol let out a low whistle. "Shots fired."
"Yes, yes," Klaus rolled his eyes, "We've been over this part already. The point is in her present state she's useless as a tool against the witches."
"She's not a tool," Marcel said defensively.
"Well, people have certainly acted like she is," Marisol muttered.
"Something's wrong with her."
"She has too much power that she cannot control. That much we already knew. But why is it manifesting itself in such an aggressive manner?" Elijah interjected.
"I've seen witches cough up blood when they use too much magic as a punishment from the world, but I've never seen a witch cough up dirt," Marisol commented.
Something sparked in Elijah's eyes, pushing him to get up and rush to the door, but Klaus stopped him before he could get through. "Where are you going?"
"This is witch business. Let's ask a witch," Elijah said plainly, as if the answer should be obvious to everyone.
He left the room before anyone could disagree and Marisol sighed. "Here I thought we were done asking the witches for help." Still, she stood up, preparing herself for whatever was about to come.
✧
THE FOUR ELEMENTS that controlled the earth now lived in turmoil inside Davina. Sophie, conveniently, said that the Harvest had to be completed soon or else Davina would take all of New Orleans down with her. That was all Klaus needed to be convinced, along with Rebekah and Hayley, but Elijah and Marcel refused to give her up so quickly.
Marisol knew the importance of the Harvest ritual. It ensured the magic and longevity of the witches in New Orleans, and if they couldn't have their magic, no one could live. But when Davina was told it was her time to die again, she grew so upset that matters had to be taken to calm her down.
"We sedated her too heavily," Elijah said, an ounce of guilt filling his features before he allowed it to subside.
"Well, if this is her sedated, I'd hate to see her otherwise," Klaus commented, and Marisol had to agree as the ground was still shaking and a storm was beginning to brew, "We all agreed that Davina must be sacrificed. There's no need to let her blow the roof off our heads in the meantime."
"No way! You're not touching her!" Marcel stood up defensively, punching Klaus in the face.
"Okay, I'll let you have that one," Klaus glared at his right-hand man.
"Marcel, no one wishes to see Davina come to harm less than I, but there is no scenario here in which we simply wait this out. She's going to die."
"According to Sophie, the witch who screwed over everybody here," Marcel pointed out.
"She never screwed me over," Marisol shot her hand up, smiling as she looked at Marcel, "Besides, she's not lying. It's an insurance policy by the ancestors. If the agreement isn't renewed, hell has to come raining down in the form of a teenage girl not ready to die."
"The Harvest was working before it was stopped," Elijah added, "If a nonbeliever like Sophie Deveraux can come to have faith that these girls will be resurrected, then I, also, am a believer."
Marcel faltered for a moment. "I saved Davina from the Harvest, and now you want me to just hand her over?" he asked in a small voice.
"I know you care about her, but either way she's going to die," Marisol softly told him, "I don't think she's the type of girl who wants to take everyone else down with her."
"Do you think I'm happy about this?" Klaus asked, interrupting the quiet moment, "If the witches complete the Harvest, not only do they regain their power, we lose our weapon against them. The earthquake I was willing to chalk up to hideous coincidence, but these winds? If Davina is not sacrificed, then every inch of earth that shook, everything blowing about now will soon be drenched in water and consumed by fire."
Nostrils flaring, Marcel confronted Klaus again. "Oh! Now you care about the city."
"We ought to. We built it," Elijah stood tall.
"And we all saw it burnt to the ground twice. I will not let that happen again. Do I make myself clear?" Klaus stared into Marcel's eyes, forcing him to submit.
"Yeah, yeah," Marcel tore his gaze away, angrily leaving the room.
"Marcel!" Marisol called after him, but he didn't stop. Huffing, she chased after him, catching him near the front door and grabbing his arm to keep him from leaving. "I know you don't like this, but other choice is there?"
"I saved her before, and for what? Just for her to die?" Marcel searched her eyes for an answer.
"I don't like this either. I – she's just a girl. I know she's just a girl, but I don't know of any other way to save her. The Harvest has to happen, and she has to be sacrificed. You saved her, and she's thankful, and after this all done she'll finally be able to be a normal girl again just like she wants."
Marcel shook his head. "Davina never wanted this."
"I know," she whispered, allowing herself this time to sympathize for the poor girl. "I know."
She had been just a girl when her life changed. So young, so naïve. And she had left, taken in her nephew, and sacrificed her chance at a normal life back then. No one wanted a woman with a child then, and she wouldn't dare place Magnus in danger intentionally. She dreamed of being a witch again in her youth, but she never asked to be normal.
Now – Now she wished that. Now she wished that she wasn't cursed, and that she wasn't alive, and that she was buried with her family. She couldn't get what she wanted, but maybe Davina could. The Harvest just had to happen first.
Marcel glanced back around the house before leaning in and whispering in her ear, "Then you won't stop me." He backed away from her, gave her a knowing look, then vanished.
She swallowed, squeezing her eyes shut for a moment. She should say something, she should tell him no, she should stop him. But – at the same time – wouldn't she do the same for Magnus? If people wanted him dead, were going to sacrifice him, and she didn't fully believe he would be resurrected, she wouldn't let them take him.
She should say something, but she stayed quiet.
"Marisol," her head snapped to Elijah, "Do you remember me telling you about Celeste? My old –"
"Lover who Klaus had killed," she finished, nodding her head, "I do. Why?"
"Well, Hayley has informed me that she gave Sophie the coordinates as to where to find Celeste's remains. Now, Sophie is using them to make herself an Elder to perform the Harvest."
"Elijah," she stammered, mouth agape as she searched for words, "I'm sorry."
"Yes, I'm sorry to ask this, but I cannot help but wonder if she had your assistance in finding the location," Elijah gave her an accusatory look, though he seemed guilty to even ask it in the first place.
"No," she shook her head, "I wouldn't do that. You have to believe me."
"I do," he said easily, just like breathing. It shocked her that this was enough to convince him. Elijah never seemed like the trusting type anymore. "Thank you. Would you come with me to watch as Sophie's absorbs Celeste's power?"
She furrowed her eyebrows. "Why do you want me to come? I mean, Celeste was your old lover and I'm your old...something."
Elijah looked amused by her vagueness about their relationship in the past, looking down for a split second before meeting her gaze again. "Yes, but I don't wish to come alone, and Niklaus is unbearable right now."
She should say no. She should counter and mention Marcel, she should say that she didn't feel comfortable or that it wasn't a good idea, but...but Elijah wanted her there, and he didn't care that they used to be something and he used to be with Celeste in another life. He wanted her there, and that made something warm light up inside her even though she was sure it shouldn't, and how could she deny him? How could she deny Elijah?
"Yeah. I'll come with you," it almost felt like signing her death sentence, but she did it anyway.
When he smiled at her, it made it all worth it, and he reached out his arm for her. She took it without hesitation, and in the next second they were in the cemetery. She blinked, nausea building inside her for a second because no matter how many times she did that it never got easier.
Sophie laid out the bones and Sabine, another witch, watched. Marisol got closer to the Devereux witch while Elijah stayed behind with Sabine. She crossed her arms as she watched, staying silent as to disturb the process. As she did, she faintly paid attention to the conversation the two were having behind her.
"Have you ever experienced something so profound and wonderful that when it was taken from you your life felt unbearable?" Elijah asked, and her breath hitched for a moment.
He loved Celeste.
It was such a simple fact, and she knew this – she should've known it fully – but he loved Celeste. She was a beauty who captured his attention in another life, and they had a relationship, they were lovers and partners, and it was everything she never had with him before.
He loved Celeste like he never loved her.
She was so young back then, naïve and away from home, doing her best to get through the days. And then she met him – someone who thought she was pretty and good enough to spend time with. He bought her fancy gowns and invited her to balls, danced with her and kissed her. She loved him – or at least the idea of him.
That was what she dreamed of; a Prince Charming to save her because she needed it back then. She was barely managing, and then Elijah came and made her feel special, and could secure a good life for her. He could've given her anything, and she loved that, so she allowed her to be used and manipulated by him.
Maybe she could've loved him, maybe she did, but she certainly loved the idea of him from before. But Elijah was different now, and he was a changed man. They knew each other better now, and he made her feel warm, and everything about him was so easy like it couldn't be before, and that scared her.
But he loved Celeste.
He loved a ghost and he was talking so elegantly about a ghost. Celeste had known him before and loved him, and he loved her back. They had a relationship that was true and pure, they had a chance like Marisol and Elijah never did.
He never loved her, but he used to love Celeste. Some part of him always would probably.
She swallowed her pain from it, because it shouldn't hurt as much as it did, and him loving Celeste shouldn't mean as much as it did.
"I believe that when you love someone and that person loves you in return you're uniquely vulnerable. They have the power to hurt you that's like nothing else," Elijah continued.
Marisol blinked away budding tears. This hurt her, and she wasn't sure if this was love. It was something, built on something from before that ended terribly and was terribly, but it hurt to know that he loved a ghost more than he was ever going to love her.
A phone went off, and Marisol's head jerked back to find the noise instinctively. "Rebekah," Elijah answered the phone.
"He's taken the girl," Rebekah's agitated voice could be heard from her position.
Marisol's heart skipped a beat and she walked closer to Elijah to hear better. "Who has?"
"Bloody, bloody Marcel!"
Oh, right. That.
Of course they were going to find out sooner than later, but this was sooner than she thought. She could've stopped it, but she hadn't, and now Klaus was angry as was Rebekah and Elijah soon would be too. This was becoming a giant mess.
Rebekah and Klaus yelled at themselves for a moment before Rebekah spoke to Elijah again, "We need to divide and conquer if we're gonna stand a chance. He could have gone anywhere."
Elijah looked at Marisol. "Well, I'm here with Marisol and Sabine. Perhaps we could try a locator spell?"
There were no more hesitation as Sabine got to work and Elijah ended the phone call. They stood around as Sophie continued her ritual and Sabine began the locator spell in hopes of tracking Davina. Marisol bit her lip nervously.
She could've stopped this, and it would've been so much easier, but...but...Marcel needed to do this. He needed to know that he tried to do all he could to save Davina, but they would find Davina and then the ritual would happen and Davina would die before living again. Then she could be normal, just like she wanted. That's what Marisol repeated to herself to calm her nerves.
Sabine let out a sigh of frustration. "This isn't working."
"She's nowhere to be found?" Elijah asked.
"No. It's more like she's everywhere. She's hemorrhaging magic. That means we have less time than we thought. We have got to find her. I have no clue where she is," Sabine explained.
"Please concentrate. Try again," Elijah said as calmly as he could.
Marisol looked between them before sighing herself. "I'm gonna go looking myself."
She turned to leave but Elijah grabbed her arm. "Do you really think you should go searching alone?" he asked, concern etched on his face.
"I can take care of myself, Elijah," she said before leaning in closely to him, "I'll be alright. You stay here in case the tracking spell starts to work."
He let her go, though he still look apprehensive, and she nodded at him before turning and leaving. When she was out of the cemetery, and far enough away, she got out her phone and called Marcel.
"I'm not telling you where we are," was the first thing he said when he picked up the phone.
"Please, Marcel. She doesn't have much time left, let's just get it over with," Marisol pleaded with him.
"No. I can't just hand her over. I can't just watch her die and know I did nothing."
"I know," she swallowed, "Fine. I won't tell them, but please let me join you guys. They'll find out for themselves eventually."
"Thank you," he said before telling her that they were at Thierry's warehouse.
She breathed out, telling him goodbye before starting over there. When she arrived, there was a weak looking Davina being cradled in Marcel's arms. She took a seat near them on the ground, and Marcel sent her another appreciative look.
"You know, I have a nephew," she brought up, looking at them, "I raised him. And when he was about your age, someone killed him right in front of me. I guess that's why I don't wanna see you die."
She looked at Davina, who seemed utterly pitiful in this state, before looking at Marcel. "I understand why you're fighting for her so much. I get it."
There was silence for a few minutes before Davina broke it, muttering, "If I can just wait it out a few more weeks...help me, please?"
She opened her mouth a little, about to mention how she didn't have a few more weeks. If Sabine was right, she only had a few more hours at most. Soon she would dead, there would be no waiting this out, but she couldn't say that. She couldn't crush the hope of the dying witch.
"I will," Marcel promised, "And when it's over, I'll do what I should have done – get you out of town."
Davina smiled weakly. "I had a dream that Tim wasn't dead. He played a song that he wrote for me, and he kissed me, and we were just normal."
"That sounds like a beautiful dream."
Around the corner, Rebekah walked into the storage unit, staring at them.
"What are you doing here?" Marcel asked.
"But it was just a dream," she continued.
"Get out!"
"This is killing her," Rebekah turned to the angry Marcel, "Your stubbornness will mean her death."
"I promised her I'd fight for her. I'm not breaking that promise."
"No one is asking you not to fight. You're the only family that this girl has. You owe it to her to fight for her to live," Rebekah said before explaining their plan to bury Esther – their mother – and use her magic to complete the Harvest now that Celeste was a dead end.
Then, sparing each of them a glance, ending with Marisol, she left like she never even came.
Marisol placed her head in her arms, feeling utterly useless in the moment. There was nothing she could do, nothing she could say that would magically fix anything. She was stuck, unable to do anything but watch.
"Marcel, it's okay," Davina gently told him as she began to cry.
"No. I failed you."
"I'll die whether I do this or not. I mean, now the only option is – is whether I take everyone with me. If you look at it that way, it's kind of selfish not to do it."
"There has to be another way. This is not how it ends," Marcel fought, wanting to live in ignorance that there was another solution, that this wasn't the end.
"And if it is...if this is all I have, I've had a lot. I had Monique, and I had Tim, and I had someone who fought for me from the moment you met me."
"Aw, Davina," he began to tear up, which caused Marisol to do the same.
She was meant to be apathetic, she wanted meant not to care, because not caring was so much easier. But Davina was so young, just as Magnus was. And then he died, and she was going to die too – and again, there was nothing she could do.
"Most people don't get that even if they live to be a hundred, Marcel, I'm ready," she smiled through her watery eyes, complexion wobbly as she tried not to cry.
"I'm really sorry, Davina," Marisol whispered, "I'm sorry that we can't save you."
"It's okay," she smiled at Marisol, and slowly Marcel began to rise, carrying Davina. Marisol stood up as well, and the three of them began to their walk to death.
As they passed the entrance to the cemetery, flames began to erupt. She saw everyone there as the flames burned where they came from, and Marisol stopped next to Elijah as Marcel placed Davina down.
"Do you believe in the Harvest?" Sophie asked Davina.
The young witch nodded nervously, facing them. "I believe."
Marisol didn't know what it was like to die. Didn't know the cold touch, didn't know the feeling of life slipping away, didn't know the emptiness that came with it. But she had seen many people die before. Still, something about Davina dying, her being so young, her being so much like Magnus, caused her to break.
The knife Sophie held ran across Davina's neck, causing blood to pour as the young witch gasped one last time before falling. Falling, falling, falling...slipping away as gold energy flowed through her body before seeping back into the earth.
"After the Harvest comes the Reaping. Their sacrifices made and accepted. We call upon our Elders to resurrect the chosen ones," Sophie stopped, all eyes on Davina waiting for her to rise again but nothing, "We call upon our Elders to resurrect the chosen ones," still nothing, "Resurrect your chosen ones...Please? I beg...No!"
Marisol let out a chocked sob, Davina's lifeless body in the arms of Marcel. They couldn't save her, she was dead, they had killed her. Flashes of Magnus ran through her mind. His corpse in her arms, her tears and sobs, her pleas for him to come back.
She faltered, falling back but arms wrapped around her to keep her from falling. "She wasn't supposed to stay dead," she cried, allowing herself to slump into the person's arms. It was too much like before. It was too much like Magnus. She was supposed to save the children – she was supposed to save Davina (so young, so much like him) and she was supposed to save Hayley's child.
But now Davina was dead and Marisol couldn't do anything. She was stuck, utterly helpless, and a child was dead. Magnus was dead in her arms, and Davina was dead in Marcel's.
She wept because she was always helpless. She tried to save them, she tried to plead with death, she tried to keep them alive, and death just took them. Death always took those around her, but never her. She had to see Davina die, she had to live with knowing that Davina was dead and she didn't save her.
Davina was supposed to be resurrected, but she was dead. And Marisol fell apart.
authors note
y'all i was for real tearing up so much as i was writing this. never have i been so emotional while writing a chapter but something about this one just had me crying in the club.
also thank you guys for all your sweet comments on last chapter. those really made my day and i hope that this was worth the wait. i wanted it out earlier but school has been keeping me busy i haven't had the time or energy to write but i hope that this chapter makes up for it.