☆ 𝗔 𝗥𝗘𝗧𝗘𝗟𝗟𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗢𝗙 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗢𝗥𝗜𝗚𝗜𝗡𝗔𝗟𝗦 : what if the child was a teenager/YA throughout the show duration and not at season 5?
After the death of her mother, 17 y/o Deena Salée rummage through her mother's things for answers. She dis...
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𝐃𝐄𝐄𝐍𝐀𝐀𝐖𝐎𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐀𝐓, her heart frantically beating against its cage as she vividly remembered being tossed to the ground after bared fangs ripped through the flesh of her neck, draining her dry until her last breath of air. Her throat sore from screaming bloody murder and her hand clung to her neck gasping for air.
It's wet.
Blood.
It wasn't just a dream. It was real. Nayeli rose from the dead to finish her off. The impure breed.
Magic surged in her veins when two shadows busted into her bedroom, finding Deena balled on the floor drenched in sweat and breathing heavily. Fire danced through her fingers before it pushed out to burn any and everything that dared come her way. There was panic, voices shouting to put out the fire.
"Deena,"
It wasn't Nayeli speaking — it was her father. So she thought but wasn't sure.
He stared with shock, panicked at the sight of blood stained along the sheets, dripping the clean floors, seeping through her fingers. She tore away her gaze, still struggling to catch her breath and unsure of her reality that blurred. A smoky taste lingered in the air.
"Someone's been here." He said but not to her, but to someone who was putting out the last of flames. "Stay with her. I'll check the house."
The shadow was leaving with another stopped them. "Klaus...I can't." Their head shook with defeat but their voice was filled with a dark crave. "I-It's too much. Too much blood. I don't — I can't trust myself right now."
"Check the house. I'll clean up here."
The wooden floors vibrated when a shadow dropped beside her with impatience to heal whatever had harmed her. "Deena, I'm here. Let me see your wound. Let me heal you."
At his voice, Deena lifted her head. Registering her father's presence once more whether real or not, she unraveled herself and hugged him tightly. So tight she could choke him. "Papa," she exhaled with relief, staining his shirt with her tears and blood. "Am I awake? Is this real? You are real, yes?"
