{2.02 | This Year Will Be Different | part one}
The week before Elara's first day of the new semester was... great, actually.
Elara couldn't explain why she felt differently, but the gaping, emotional hole in her chest felt like it had been filled despite her best efforts to cover it. It was like the thin blanket she had thrown over had vanished, replaced with layers of reassurance and stability.
The weight of keeping everything close to her chest wasn't as suffocating, the missing piece of her soul was returned, and the ringing in her head had gotten more bearable. Since she died, she felt complete, again.
Well, as complete as a seventeen-year-old Hellhound could feel.
When the sun peeked through her window on the first day of the new semester, Elara was already wide awake. Another nightmare had tormented her the night before. She had returned to that damned field, and she was chasing something when she fell down, down, and down into the black pit of Malivore.
Gleaming in the morning sun, the m necklace dangled from between her fingertips, and she let out a small huff. Truthfully, she wasn't sure why she still kept it. She could have handed it over to the twins, had them check it for magic or see if they recognized it, but she didn't. A part of her was desperate to know where the necklace came from, who it belonged to, but her desire to keep itâ to protect itâ won.
"How did you even manage to do this? Your socks are all mismatched."
Elara rolled her eyes before dropping the necklace into the pocket of her slacks. Wearing a uniform was not required anymore by the new headmaster, but Elara liked the pants. Plus, she didn't have a lot of clothes of her own. Bonnie was gracious enough to take her shopping a few times over the summer, and Elaraâwith some convincingâ bought a few more outfits.
She still liked to wear her button-up shirt. Never buttoned all the way up, though.
"Most of them look the same to me," Elara retorted, turning with her hands in her pockets. Cedric stood by her dresser, hunched over one of the lower drawers. "They're socks. No one really sees them, anyways."
"Darling, these are two different colors," Cedric said, gesturing towards how she had organized her sock drawer. "You've gone and put a white sock with a gray sock."
"Like I said, they look the same, and no one will see them. Besides, if I wanted fashion advice, I wouldn't ask my dead dad." Ignoring the disapproving shake of his head, she walked over to her desk to finish packing. "I can still remember some of your attempts at 'dressing up.' Trust me, the 80s were not your best look."
Cedric scoffed. "It's hard to remember fashion trends when you've lived through so many of them. First skinny jeans are out, then they're back in. People change their minds over centuries."
"Right," she drawled, picking up his journal and putting it in her bag. "When were you born again? 1200 B.C."
He breathed out a fake laugh. "1733 C.E, but close."
"My bad, old man."
"One day, you'll be oldâ in spirit."
"And until then, I'm going to be keeping a low profile." She scanned over her messy desk. "Yes, I know my powers are necessary for the supernatural, but that doesn't mean I have to do it in the spotlight."
Cedric shot her a sideways glance as he propped himself against the dresser. "Because I'm the Hellhound," he quoted, attempting a southern American accent. "Rather dramatic of you, kiddo. Well-timed, though."
"Yeah, well, until another monster shows up--which it won't--I've decided to handle my many, many other problems." She grabbed her wallet, then dropped it into the bag.
A silence fell over them as Elara finished packing her backpack. She'd gotten used to Cedric popping in every now and then, now that she knew it wasn't because she was losing her sanity. He was very chatty, she realized, and he told her a lot about himself even though she had a lot of his memories. He grew up in France, right down the street from a bakery that his mother would purchase bread from, before he joined the French army and moved across the sea. His death occurred when he was fatally wounded by an enemy soldier while in battle at the age of twenty-one. He spent years wandering, hunting, and killing until he found a home in Mystic Falls. He'd met the Original family a handful of times, and so had his father and his grandfather, neither of whom had lived more than a couple centuries.
Elara thought it was interesting when her father talked about himself despite her already possessing those memories. She wanted to hear more about the things she didn't see, like when she was born and the six-years they lived together, but he wouldn't go into detail. To make up for it though, he'd tell her about her mother.
Her mother, Emilia Harwell, was the polar opposite of her father. She was soft-spoken, kind, generous, and she always wanted to do the right thing. She had been a writer new to the town when Cedric arrived, and despite their differences, the two made fast friends--although she briefly thought he was a serial killer.
However, while learning about her mother and father, she had to learn about the Hellhound, too. If she wanted to survive, to not fall into the tortuous and violent patterns of her ancestors, she had to know what she was dealing with.
While she was the Hellhound, it was also her. They were one and the same. Her powers came from the Hellhound, which was a spirit that had been imbued into the Laurent line long before she was even thought about. Cedric, as he explained, was like another spirit, guiding her through her next journey. However long it took.
Although she hated the circumstances, she was glad to get the chance to see her dad again.
A knock at the door caught her attention, and she slung her bag onto her shoulder. She wasn't expecting anyone. Felix and Landon weren't planning on walking with her to the assembly, caught up in their latest debate about a comic book, and neither were the twins. Glancing at Cedric before he disappeared, she slid over to the door and opened it.
Right as the visitor's hand was about to hit the doorâ where Elara's face appeared. Elara was quicker, her instincts kicking in, and she caught their wrist before either of them knew what was happening.
Strong, warm fingers held a tanned wrist in place. "I'm- I'm so sorry," the visitor stuttered. Her big eyes widened, the deep brown a stark contrast against the white fabric of her turtleneck. Her hair was a dark brow, almost black, and fell down onto her shoulders in waves.
Elara lifted a brow. The girl in front of her was one of the new students, a witch in the twins' grade.
"For knocking on my door or almost knocking on me?" Elara asked, letting go of her wrist.
"Both?" She smiled nervously, her eyes doing the same. "I, uh, thought this was someone else's room. These halls are still a bit confusing."
Elara hummed at that. She had been new once and took time to adjust, and the fact that her father had practically lived there at a point in his life helped, too.
"Are you new, too? I don't remember seeing you at the introductory seminar."
"No."
"That would explain not seeing you, then," she uttered, pushing up the round glasses perched on her nose. "Although I would've remembered seeing you, you've got a memorable face."
Elara's brow lifted higher.
"Not because I think you're not pretty! Wait, no, you are quite pretty. Your eyes areâ I'm not flirtingâ or failing to. I just mean you're hard to miss, y'know, being tall, and a little scary-" She sighed, dropping her head. "I'm just digging myself deeper into a hole, aren't I?"
"A little bit, yeah," Elara answered, leaning her hip against the doorway with her arms crossed. "I do appreciate the scary comment, though."
"I'm sorry for that. I'm sure you're lovely."
Elara chuckled. She'd never seen someone so flustered to speak to her before, and a part of her was enjoying it. "You got a name, Sorry?"
"Rosalind," the witch introduced. "My friends call me Rose."
"Okay." Elara pushed herself off of her door frame and closed the door behind her. "Well, if I don't get going, I'll be late for this unnecessary assembly."
Rosalind watched the movement, her smile faltering. "Usually in introductions between two people they both say their names, and I haven't quite heard yours?"
Without enhanced vision, she could see the nerves throughout Rosalind's posture. Something about her bothered the witch-- be it her mere presence or something that she did. Rosalind seemed nice on the surface, but Elara knew those were the ones that whose betrayal hurt the worst.
Frankly, she wasn't in the mood for a round two. Shrugging, she walked away from the witch, and she glanced at her over her shoulder.
"Hopefully, you won't."
~-~-~
With her arms crossed and fighting the urge to roll her eyes so hard that they would roll out of the main hall and into traffic, Elara watched Professor Vardemus stride to the podium.
Professor Vardemus was the definition of a prick, as her dad would call him. He exuded an aura of "I am better than all of you," and Elara hated it. She'd dealt with people who felt that way before. They mocked her, practically spit on her for existing, and she attemptedâkeywordâto knock some sense into them.
Although the principal of her old school didn't appreciate her efforts, she was a little proud of the black eye and busted lip she had gifted old classmates.
"This school has survived a difficult year," he began, one hand on his ostentatious cane and the other on the podium. "There were monsters and Triad, and frankly, the headmaster you trusted to keep you safe ended up putting you in more danger."
From the back of the room, Elara's eyes scanned the crowd, and she immediately found her brother. Felix sat between Landon and Josie, and Lizzie sat on Josie's right side. While Lizzie looked less than impressed with sitting near Landon, Felix looked right at home. Elara had intended to join them, but with the flood of students that attempted to approach her with questions and compliments when she set foot in one of the sitting areas, she took a detour. Besides, this year was going to be different in a multitude of ways, she didn't need to change everything about herself. Sitting at the back was completely fine with her.
Professor Vardemus lifted his cane, taking a couple steps towards the front row. "It's high time this place ran with a little discipline and order."
Air escaped her nose as she held back a laugh.
"I expect you to work harder than ever before. To be rigorous, to push yourselves. To be perfect. Because I believe every one of you is extraordinary." He walked down the center aisle, eyes darting between the students. It hesitated over the group of Elara's friends and family before jumping towards the back, landing on Elara herself.
And she really, really didn't like the feeling in her gut when he did.
"The students in this room have the power to literally change the world," he continued, moving his attention back to the student body. He paused, placing his cane back down. "To whom much is given, much is required, and I am requiring of you to be better than humans ever could. Because the day is coming when we will step out of the shadows, when you will no longer hide yourselves. "
"Is he saying what I think he's saying?" Felix muttered; his head turned towards Josie, who shrugged.
Elara's body tensed. Hiding was good. Hiding was safe. There was a thousand-years' worth of proof of why supernaturals stepping out into the world wasn't a good, safe thing. Elaraâspecifically the Hellhoundâ had witnessed it firsthand.
"Because the future is..." he banged his cane on the ground, and a blue, mist-like substance rose from the floors and then vanished. He pulled his hand away, the cane standing by itself. "Supernatural."
The new headmaster planned on pushing forward the supernatural agenda, and as a member of it, Elara felt inclined to agree, but the world was not kind. Human beings didn't even accept human beings because they refused to understand those different than them. How would they ever accept the supernatural?
Elara didn't know, and she didn't want to find out.
Professor Vardemus returned to the front. "To that end, I would like to award our Salvatore Medal of Freedom to the student who single-handedly defeated Malivore-"
"Oh, God, no," Elara breathed out.
"-Miss Elara Laurent!"
A round of applause broke out into the room as the headmaster lifted a medal that looked entirely too big from the podium. Students turned towards Elara, some wearing smiles and others looking on in contemplation. She caught the eye of one individual who sat closer to her friends, and a sigh escaped her as Rosalind just shrugged.
Unfortunately for Elara, it seemed that laying low wasn't an option anymore.
Across town, Hope Mikaelsonâor Marshall, as she had referred to herself asâwas also not in the department of avoiding the spotlight. She had been tracking down a troll for a week, unable to kill, and to her luck, it fled right into Mystic Falls High School.
So, she followed it. Its purple blood acted as a trail of breadcrumbs, and when she thought she had it cornered, she opened the door to nothing but a mop and some expired cleaning supplies. A boy named Ethan found her first, then Alaric Saltzman, and seeing him was quite the surprise.
"Parents Tom and Kathleen," Alaric read off of the paperwork on his clipboard. "I don't see any transcripts from your last school, here."
"We move around a lot," Hope explained. Lying had never been her forte, and lying to the man she had previously seen as a makeshift father figure was harder than she thought. Her hand reached up to fidget with her necklace, but her fingers didn't find exactly what they were looking for. "They must've gotten packed away or something."
She missed her necklace, but she missed the person who had it so much more.
Alaric hummed. "Well, if you are gonna be here in Mystic Falls, you need to go to school."
"Then I guess it's a good thing I'm here, right?"
When she first set foot in Mystic Falls, she headed straight for the Salvatore School. She knew no one would remember her, but a part of her hoped they at least knew someone was missing. Dorian intercepted her at the gates, stopping her from entering at first. He hadn't recognized her at all.
But he was just a human. Any magic would affect him just the same, including Malivore's memory wiping, but Elara was different. She was special.
When she arrived at the school, she overheard Josie and Landon as they walked back towards the main building, and she was in utter disbelief when they said that Felix was at Elara's grave.
Her heart shattered, and she froze. The girl she had been fighting to get back to was gone. The girl she had given her heart to was dead.
The school bell rang, and Hope took that as a sign.
"Can I go now?" she asked although she was already standing up.
"You know, I, uh," Alaric began, his words stopping Hope in her place, "I have two daughters. I can usually tell when they're hiding something from me." He offered a gentle smile. "If there's, uh, anything going wrong at home, if you're in trouble and need to talk, just know I'm here to help, okay?"
Hope nodded with a smile that didn't reach her eyes before exiting his office.
She had to compose herself before she continued her search, so she stopped at the nearest bathroom. It looked empty at a quick glance. Hope plopped herself in front of a mirror, looking at her appearance. Truthfully, she looked a little disheveled. Hunting a troll for a week straight after attempting to leave town because your girlfriend didn't remember you tended to do that to a person.
Her eyes paused on the empty space of her neckline, right where her Mikaelson necklace usually hung. She felt weightless without it, like a single wind could knock her over, but she gave it to Elara to keep it safe, to keep it until she got back.
But Elara didn't remember her, and she probably got rid of the necklace by now. Elara was a little sentimental despite her denials. A strange, mysterious necklace wasn't something she'd keep just for the memories.
Hope wasn't sure how she didn't notice that another person was in the bathroom until she spoke.
"Boy problems?"
The girl was stunning, and Hope couldn't deny it. Her jet-black hair fell over one shoulder. The purple jacket and the white crop top she wore complimented her figure, and her perfect brows pinched together in slight concern.
"Yeah, he's kinda a troll," Hope responded, muffling her annoyance. At the very least, she had wanted to have a meltdown alone.
"Oh, my God, say no more," the girl said. She slid towards the counter, dropping her black bag onto it. She pulled out a series of products. "We'll fix you up and make him jealous. I have an extra shirt in my locker, and I've got hair spray, lip gloss, and new eyeliner."
Hope couldn't help but be a little impressed.
"Maya," she introduced.
"Hope."
Maya grinned.
"Thank you," Hope said softly. She wasn't used to people outside of her family being generous to her. "Weird question, by any chance, have you noticed a terrible smell coming from somewhere inside the school?"
"I think everyone has," Maya answered. "The boys' locker room is hard to ignore."
Hope nodded. Of course, the troll fled into the worst possible place it could.
"Again, thank you."
After changing into the shirt and getting a makeover from Maya, Hope restarted her investigation. The sooner she got it done, the sooner she could leave, or not leave. She was conflicted. If she left, then everyone would live on without her and happy, but if she stayed, then the monsters would stop. The idea plagued her mind. Malivore wasn't going to stop releasing monsters, and Hope was the only way to stop it.
Whether she liked it or not, Hope knew she had to jump back into the pit. No one would remember her, and the world would go on as if nothing had happened. Elara was okay without her, she decided. She had her brother back, she was alive, and she was going to do great things.
And she wanted to make the decision that would protect her girlfriend, even if she didn't remember her, but first, she had to kill the troll. For good.