The distant sound of chattering could be heard coming from the courtyard of the Abattoir as a group of vampires gathered together awaiting the arrival of their newfound King. The atmosphere was dampened, muted from the normal boisterous commotion that filled the compound and everyone could feel the sadness in the air from the loss of Davina.

The pain radiating from their former king, their friend was evident as he slowly ambled down the stairs to the ground floor, a bottle of bourbon dangling from his hand and a blank expression on his face. There was an aura surrounding Marcel that couldn't be denied. There was a weight on his shoulders, a burden of grief that hadn't been there before Davina's death.

Diego looked up from the conversation he was having when he heard footsteps descending the stairs and immediately stood up at the sight of Marcel, a small amount of relief fuelling him as he approached the other vampire. "Hey, Marcel, maybe you know what's going on. Klaus ordered us to meet here, and now he's a no-show."

"What do you want from me? It's a new regime. Get used to it." Marcel replied shortly, his voice hoarse with anguish as he slumped down into one of the vacant seats at an empty table and Diego shook his head slightly in dissatisfaction as he looked away from the distraught former king. It was unnerving to see Marcel, the man that every vampire in the French Quarter looked to for guidance and hope for a brighter future, looking so dejected.

"Dearest brethren, your attention, please." Klaus' accented voice reverberated throughout the courtyard, causing everyone to look over at the large entrance in slight annoyance. The hybrid stood with a pompous smirk on his lips, his hands clasped behind his back and next to him stood a familiar face that made the vampires pause. "No doubt, you're all surprised to see Thierry Vanchure, who's supposed to be rotting in the Garden for the crime of killing one of our own, and I personally decided to issue him with a pardon. I hope you'll all welcome home Thierry."

A joyous cheer erupted from the crowd of gathered vampires, all of them shock but pleased by the turn of events and Thierry grinned widely as Diego strolled forward to embrace him in a brotherly hug. "Welcome home, man."

Marcel ignored the guilty churn of his stomach as he turned his gaze away from the uniting pair, feeling responsible for leaving Thierry in the garden for so long after learning the truth from Klaus. It infuriated him how easily he fell for the hybrids manipulation, how he was manoeuvred like a chess piece by the sociopath who raised him. It irritated him how Klaus was smiling like an idiot next to him while he was sinking further into the darkness. "You're in a good mood. You should visit Mystic Falls more often."

"Well, as much as I might like to, I have pressing responsibilities here." Klaus replied with a wide grin on his lips, his mind going back to a forest in West Virginia and a beautiful blonde that made his pulse race with just one smile. It was a precious moment, one that he would hold on to, but it was only a moment and he had important things that needed his attention in the French Quarter.

A blank mask fell over his expression as he straightened his shoulders, creating a façade of emotionless and turned around to address the assembled crowd of vampires as he held his chin up high. "Now, as you all know, the witch Davina is no longer with us. Without Davina, we can no longer monitor the activity of our witch neighbours. However, since their Harvest failed, their magic will soon be gone forever. Until then, I say we keep them on their toes. Diego, I wonder if you might lead a rousting in the cauldron."

Diego grinned widely at the veiled order as he immediately set off to the side of the courtyard with a group of other vampires who wanted in on the rousting and began planning the attack for later that day when the witches would be less prepared for them.

At the moment of the words 'witch' and 'Davina' were uttered Marcel's already dark mood became completely obscured in depression and he roughly grabbed the half drunken bottle bourbon that was on the table top as he stood up from his seat. Just hearing her name sent a sharp pain straight through his chest, reminding him that she was gone forever and that he would never again see her smiling face greeting him as he walked into the room. Agony, guilt, hurt, anger. Every emotions in existence swirled violently inside of him like a whirlpool, each one struggling to be the one that came out on top.

Klaus silently watched the minuscule flash of emotion on Marcel's face, worried over the other vampire's mentality and knowing firsthand how hard it was to lose the person you thought of as your own child. "Marcel, I'd hoped you would join Diego."

"Nah. I'm gonna take a personal day." The former king informed him curtly, sparing him only a glance as he knocked his shoulder against Klaus' while pushing pass on his way out of the room. A scowl spread across the hybrids lips, visibly annoyed with Marcel's attitude and he clenched his hands into fists as he watched the younger vampire leave.

Marcel took a swig of his bourbon, letting the alcohol burn its way down his throat as he enjoyed the numbing warmth in the pit of his stomach and he strolled aimlessly through the labyrinth that was the Abattoir.

On a usual day, he would be more concerned over a rousting of the witches, especially when it was an order given by Klaus, but he just couldn't bring himself to care. There was now only one witch alive that he gave a damn about and every supernatural in the French Quarter knew that if anything were to happen to Imogen Claire, hell would rain down upon them from all angles.

For the first time since the fateful night Davina had died Marcel's lips upturned into something resembling a smile when he caught sight of Imogen strolling in the compound as though she owned the world. "Hey, pretty girl. What are you doing here?"

"I'm bored. Is that bourbon? Hand it over!" she demanded quickly as she approached him with her hand outstretched, her blue eyes narrowing in on the bottle in his hand and she snatched it out of his hand without waiting for an answer. He watched with a raised eyebrow as she lifted the glass to her lips and took a few greedy sips of the amber liquid.

While she was distracted he took the time to sweep his gaze over her features, studying the dark circles underneath her eyes, the pale pallor of her skin and the dullness of her normally bright blue eyes. It was obvious to anyone that she wasn't sleeping properly, the tired shadows gracing her face were proof enough and the haunted look in her eyes told the truth even though Imogen never would.

Imogen sighed happily with her eyes closed as she lowered the bottle down to her side, smiling slightly as she enjoyed the familiar burning sensation and she opened her eyes as she offered the vampire in front of her a grateful look. "Thank for that. Elijah sent someone over to scour my apartment and confiscate all of my alcohol this morning. And how am I meant to drink all day if I don't start in the morning?"

"Why'd he do that?" Marcel asked in confusion with a frown on his lips as he accepted the bottle back from her and she scowled briefly as she glanced away to the side before meeting his gaze evenly.

"He's afraid I'm going to drink myself to death."

"Are you?" he asked her in a hesitant voice, worry and dread failing to mask itself as they battled inside of him. It bothered him that he had neglected to notice how hard Imogen had taken her sister's death. He had been so focused on his own pain, his own loss that he hadn't really thought about how Imogen was handling herself. It bothered him that Elijah was the one who had taken notice, that it was Elijah who was taking care of her when she needed someone to care.

"Please." she replied easily with a scoff as she rolled her blue eyes dismissively and he raised an eyebrow at her questioningly as she reached up to pat his cheek patronisingly with a pout on her lips. "You know I'd do something a bit more original, more unique."

"That doesn't make me feel better." He told her incredulously with a shake of his head as she offered him a tight sarcastic smile and she pressed a kiss to his cheek as she started walking around him with an amused glint in her eyes.

Imogen took a deep breath as she continued down the corridor towards the staircase to the second storey, she had been nervous about her first run in with Marcel after losing Davina but talking to him had felt almost normal. It was only for a moment, a few brief sentences but normality was a foreign concept for her lately and it was nice not to be troubled with preoccupying memories of Davina for a minute.

A familiar sounding burst of laughter echoed from the courtyard underneath the balcony Imogen was standing on and the witch's forehead furrowed in confusion as she strolled over to the overlooking railing, her gaze sweeping over the crowd until it landed on a familiar blonde vampire being revered by a group of other vampires. "Thierry?"

"That's right." An accented voice confirmed from behind her as the sound of heels approaching alerted Imogen to Rebekah's presence and she looked over her shoulder with a small smile as the blonde stopped next to her at the railing. "Funny how you're going through the most difficult time of your life and yet, Niklaus looks as though he's swallowed a pocket full of sunshine."

Imogen's gaze drifted towards where the Original hybrid was standing to the side of the room with a large grin on his lips, his arms crossed over his chest as he watched over his subjects and she frowned slightly as she narrowed her eyes at him in consideration. There was something different about him, something had changed within him and he seemed lighter somehow, less bothered or angry at the world. The tight lines that were once presence on his face were relaxed and his light blue eyes had lost the enraged silhouettes that had been hidden deep within him no matter how hard he tried to hide it from the world.

The witch didn't know if his improved mood would last if something out of his control were to happen, having observed his need to control every situation and aware that he reacted to the unknown with suspicion and violence. If there was anyone who knew that better than anyone, it was the blonde Original standing beside her and Imogen looked over at her with a sympathetic smile on her lips as she tilted her head to the side thoughtfully. "I suppose it's better than having him slaughtering the entire French Quarter. If you want something it'd be a good time to ask for it."

"Who do you think convinced Klaus to let Thierry out?"

"Why the hell would you do that?"

"Because, despite Klaus' reprieve, Thierry despises him. I like that about Thierry." Rebekah told the brunette with a slightly upturn of her lips, her cerulean blue eyes giving away the sadness and anger inside of her. "I also like that he used to date a witch, so he knows about French Quarter covens. Maybe he can lead me to whoever stole off with the Harvest magic. There was no outcome. We both know that power like that doesn't just vanish. I say someone stole it. I'd like to know who, and then I'd like to make an ally out of them."

"An ally? You building an army, Bekah?" Imogen asked her quietly as she turned her body to face her friend, glancing around to make sure no one was nearby to overhear the treachery they were discussing.

"I'm tired of being threatened and controlled by my tyrant brother. He's in a brilliant mood now, but for how long? It's his trick, Imogen. He lulls you into a false sense of camaraderie and kinship, and then he turns on you like a snake. I fall for it every time and wind up with a dagger in my chest for my trouble. No more. If you want to stop a bully, you need the power to stand up to them."

"I understand that, Rebekah, I do, but if this is your build up to a recruitment speech, you can count me out. I'm not choosing sides. This civil war is only going to end in disaster. I just want to get myself together, wait for the acceptance letters of graduate school and then I'm going to do what Davina wanted us to do and get the hell out of New Orleans while I still can."

"You're leaving?" the Original asked in shock as she spun around rapidly to face the witch, her lips parted into a small 'o' and her blue eyes wide with surprise but there was a hidden insecurity behind the wall of indifference. Her chest constricted with unease as she looked over at one of the only people she could honestly call her friend and she forced herself to look composed because she completely understood Imogen's desire to leave.

"There's nothing here for me anymore." Imogen murmured sadly as she reached out to squeeze Rebekah's hand gently with a small smile on her lips and the blonde's frown deepened in confusion as her fingers tightened around the brunette's hand.

"What of your magic?"

"I don't care about my magic, Rebekah. The only benefit of having magic was that it made it easier to protect Davina. Now, Davina's gone and I can protect myself just fine without it." she replied with a faltering sense of confidence as she offered Rebekah a fleeting smile, trying to look more assured than she felt inside. "I'll make my own magic."

"That's a positive outlook. I'm surprised by how well you're coping." Rebekah said quickly, hoping to divert the subject away from her friend's departure but then she grimaced to herself for stepping onto a conservational landmine.

Imogen stiffened instantly at the passing comment of Davina's death as she let her hand drop from Rebekah's and she cleared her throat delicately as she looked away from the blonde's guilty expression. "I'm doing better than I was."

"Imogen, I'm sor - "

"Listen, I gotta go." The witch interrupted the Original hurriedly as she tucked a strand of brunette hair behind her ear without looking at the blonde, feeling a pang of guilt in her chest when she saw the downcast expression on Rebekah's face. "I'll see you later. Maybe we can grab dinner?"

"Yes, absolutely! Dinner sounds fabulous." Rebekah agreed quickly with a grin spreading across her lips as her cerulean blue eyes lit up in delight and Imogen nodded once in return with a small smile as she squeezed the blonde's arm when she passed.

It had never been more evident how starved for affection the youngest Original really was, how she craved even the slightest hint of acceptance. The story of the Original family was renown throughout the supernatural world and Imogen knew that the family dynamics had left each of them with a number of psychological issues no therapist could hope to diagnose. Each of them uniquely scarred by the trauma of all they'd been through in the last thousand years. It was fascinating for Imogen to observe the three of them, both individually and when they interacted with one another.

Imogen paused at the closed double doors to what used to be Davina bedroom, the one place besides the St Anne's church attic that still had some of Davina's presence. Since Imogen was in the process of renovating the house they had grown up in, trying to destroy any semblance of their childhood and Davina had never been to her apartment in the French Quarter, the Abattoir was the only place Davina had called home before her death.

Their was an unmistakable tension in the atmosphere, like an almost cold chill making her shiver as she slowly pushed open the door and she stopped in the doorway as she looked around the room with wide eyes. It looked the same as it always did, clean and tidy with the only personal touches being the canvases leaning up against the wall. Nothing in the room screamed Davina but there was still an undeniable presence of the young witch.

"Come on, Imogen. You can do this." the brunette whispered to herself as she exhaled sharply with a determined expression, her hands curling into fists as she forced herself to walk further into the room.

The erratic beating of her heart mad her chest vibrate as she carefully made her way towards the stacked canvases by the wall and she crouched down in front of them as she bit down on the corner of the her lower lip. Art had always been Davina's preferred method of expressing herself and even as a child she had excelled at every form of artwork, forcing Imogen to help her create sculptures, sketches, collages, drawings and paintings. It was one of the things that bonded the two of them together, one of the things that Imogen had passionately encouraged. The artist's world was limitless, full of endless possibilities and allowed someone to find themselves and lose themselves at the same time.

Imogen sniffled slightly as she cleared her throat delicately, her nimble finger quickly flicking through the canvases as she glanced at the pictures absently until her gaze landed on the numerous charcoal sketches of Celeste. With the portraits firmly in her grip she strolled over to the large bed in the middle of the room and climbed into the centre of the bed on her knees before sitting with her back resting against the pillows. She laid each scrap of paper down on the comforter, placing them side by side in order like she was completing a jigsaw puzzle and she smiled subtly as she sat back to study the talented illustration of the once powerful witch.

Premonition was a common power among witches, the act of divining future, past, and present events based off extrasensory perception, the practice of divination through the observation and study of dreams and if Davina had the ability to channel the power into her artwork, there was a high probability of Celeste's picture having a greater meaning.

The witch folded her legs underneath her body as she leaned forward to get a better look at the sketches and tilted her head to the side thoughtfully as she softly hummed the tone to Like A Prayer by Madonna.

"There you are." A familiar melodic voice greeted her from the doorway to the bedroom and her head snapped up from the pictures, blinking in surprise at the eldest Mikaelson's sudden appearance.

Elijah leaned his shoulder on the doorframe to Davina's old bedroom in a neatly pressed suit, his arms crossed over his chest and a subtle smile playing on his lips as he silently observed the minor changes in her expression. Every movement had him memorised. The way she absently nibbled gently on her lower lip, the way she tapped some nonsense tune on her thigh, the way her eyes drifted over the parchment to analyse every little detail. Even when sitting still humming to herself she radiated potential energy.

"Here I am." Imogen greeted him back in amusement with a slight smirk pulling at her lips as she tucked a strand of brunette hair behind her ear and his own smile grew at the familiar sound of her teasing, having missed it the last time to he had seen her.

A slightly awkward silence fell over the pair as the witch turned her attention back to her previous task and Elijah tilted his head to the side thoughtfully as he gestured with one hand towards the numerous artworks. "Davina's drawings."