Work Text:
I’m Losing My Heart, Holding On To Your Light
1938 - French Quarter, New Orleans, Louisiana
She holds on, every night. Because she knows that if she were to ever let go, only the depths of pain would swallow her whole.
1934 - French Quarter, New Orleans, Louisiana
The Abattoir.
The famous compound in New Orleans, belonging to the Mikaelson family.
It now belongs to Hope Mikaelson, the heir of the Original Hybrid and the Crescent Pack Alpha, Niklaus Mikaelson and Hayley Marshall. They hadn’t passed away, but her father gifted her the compound, because his daughter’s happiness was the most important thing. She was finally happy beyond words.
She spent her days and nights here, with the love of her life, Josie Saltzman.
It’s where she painted and Josie played piano.
One particular day she can never forget is the day where they made a vow.
On that day, Hope was already painting in their room. Her canvas on the easel, the painting was already taking shape. It was Hope and Josie on the dock in the Bayou, looking at the night sky with fireflies around.
That’s when Josie came in. She came from behind and put her hands on the tribrid’s shoulders, the brunette resting her head right on Hope’s.
Giving her a kiss right on her hair, she looks at the painting curiously. “It’s beautiful. Us on the Bayou?”
Hope looks back and smiles. “Yes. From when we went the other day, after your recital.”
Josie began to trace her collarbone. “That was a nice night.” She shifted her head so that her left cheek was now laying on her hair and began to look out the balcony. “It was peaceful.”
Hope grabbed her hand and gave her a soft kiss on her palm. “I got you something.”
This made Josie back up as Hope got up and went towards their dressing table. On it was a small vase. The auburn-haired woman stands next to it and points with her index finger. “One’s a matthiola incana and the other is a myosotis, a forget-me-not. The matthiola symbolizes beauty that doesn’t fade with age and a lifetime of happiness, and the myosotis symbolizes remembrance and true and undying love.”
“Funny, I got you something, too.”
The brunette walks out of the room and then comes back in with a wrapped gift. “Open it.”
And that’s what Hope does. Once open, she gasps and looks at Josie.
“It’s a music box and it has some of my music. I picked your favorite ones.”
The music box was ornately exquisite. It had two angels surrounded by clouds, trying to hold hands, but not quite reaching each other just yet.
Hope stares at Josie intensely. Softly, just above a whisper. “It’s heavenly. Thank you.”
In that moment, the seconds, the minutes, and the years could pass by in a blur right in front of their eyes, that they wouldn’t even notice. This was their moment, as Hope played the music box, grabbed Josie, and began to lead her in a waltz.
Later, after they had dinner, which happened to be the first passerby that they came across, they stayed around the first floor. Here, they had Josie’s piano, which was an Ivers and Pond Grand Piano.
Josie sat down and motioned for Hope to sit next to her. Once she saw that the tribrid sat down, she pressed a few random keys, and then began with a piece that she composed. Her muse? An afternoon walk that she and Hope had in the French Quarter a few months ago.
The entire time Josie was playing, Hope was looking at her and focusing on the music. Her smile was so bright and immense. Halfway through the brunette playing, however, Hope grabs on to her by the waist and begins to plant soft kisses on her cheek.
“Promise me you won’t ever forget me.”
Josie keeps playing but begins to focus on the auburn-haired. “Forget me not.”
Hope smiles. “Then, swear an oath to me that this is forever.”
“An oath to forever.”
At that, Josie stops playing and looks into blue eyes. Blue eyes on brown eyes, the moonlight reflecting, making blue look brighter than usual. Lips met lips under this moonlight, awakening dead hearts.
Rain began to fall softly, and then all at once, which made both of them gasp. Luckily for them, they had the strength and the velocity to push the piano out of the way under the stairs, where the rain wouldn’t hit. And just like that, they went back out in the rain to finish what they had commenced.
1938 - French Quarter, New Orleans, Louisiana
Hope wakes up.
It’s always the same dream, over and over again, every single night.
Never the one of how Josie died.
An oath to forever, broken, but not on purpose.
The tribrid gets out of bed and reaches for the picture.
It’s always the same picture. The same, scrunched up picture. The picture of the two of them, the Original Tribrid and the Heretic, the only of their kind. The picture they took after the recital, the same night they went to the Bayou (where all the Crescents and the Mikaelsons gathered as well, some taking glances at the two and smiling fondly), the day before the oath to forever.
After grabbing the picture, she went for the music box. The music that began to play was the same one that she played right as they kissed under the rain. She begins to look at the music box. The angels, trying to hold hands, but never quite reaching each other. That’s exactly how she feels about Josie right now. She won’t be able to hold her ever again, unless there was a way that the original tribrid could die. She supposes so, because even immortal beings find a way to die, with or without looking for it.
Once again, she crumbles up the picture and cries for the rest of the night. The only thing able to comfort her is the music box.
She holds on, every night. Because she knows that if she were to ever let go, only the depths of pain would swallow her whole.
That, and the darkness.
Fin.