Chapter Text
Hope Mikaelson needed a witch.
Not just any witch.
A powerful witch.
And while she, herself, was rumored to be the most powerful witch of her generation, she was only seven years old and not nearly strong enough to do what needed to be done--which was to protect her family. Namely her father.
He didn’t think she knew the danger they were all in. He didn’t think she could hear them talking late at night, whispering about secret covens and ‘enemies at their door’. Sometimes she thinks they forget she’s just as supernatural as they are, and that includes her hearing. Sometimes, she wishes she wasn’t--so maybe then none of this would have happened.
If she was a normal, regular, not special little girl, then maybe they wouldn’t have had to flee their home. Maybe her Mom would be alive, maybe she wouldn’t be away from her big brother Marcel, maybe she wouldn’t have to be the only child within twenty miles, maybe Uncle Elijah could stop frowning and Kol could stop swearing (although, probably not) and Freya wouldn’t cry when she thought no one was around, and Daddy...well, maybe Daddy wouldn’t be so scared anymore. He tried to hide it, but she could sense it. He hugged her extra tight. He hovered all the time. And last night he had come home covered in blood and limping.
Someone had hurt him.
But she was going to fix it. She’s going to make it so they could go back to being safe and happy again. In secret, she had scoured her aunt Freya’s books, gathered the ingredients and finally after six whole months, she was ready. It was the night of the new moon and she had collected everything she needed. A simple sleeping spell took care of everything else, allowing her to sneak out of her room and make her way, uninterrupted, past the garden and into the woods where she’d already made a summoning circle from stones.
The only part that she didn’t like about the whole thing was having to cut herself, but she healed real quick, so it wasn’t too much of a bother to drizzle her blood over the chalk written symbols. Once that was all done, she stood in the center of her crude candlelit circle and began reciting the chant she’d copied from one of Freya’s oldest tomes.
Dead leaves rustled across the ground, the wind picking up enough to lift her russet colored hair from her shoulders. Hope clutched the paper tighter, making sure it couldn’t be tugged from her grip by the increasingly tumultuous weather and chanted louder.
Overhead, thunder rumbled.
The candle flames flickered wildly.
Heavy rain splattered against the ground.
The candle flames shot up into the air--taller than her--despite the downpour.
Lightning flashed, blindingly white hot and bright.
Thunder boomed again.
The trees bowed and cracked and shook and just when Hope thought that they would crumble around her--everything stopped.
The paper clutched in her hands was nearly in tatters and her bed clothes were stuck to her skin. The candles hissed farewell and the night was suddenly blanketed in thick fog and darkness.
Hope looked around, her heart hammering wildly. Had it worked? What if it hadn’t? What if she had failed? What if, because of her, her family would never be safe again? What if—
Movement near the tallest oak tree derailed her train of thought. Hope held her breath as her summoned witch slowly appeared—a shadow at first—and then more corporeal as she stepped out of the fog. Hope didn’t know what she had been expecting but it certainly wasn’t a tawny skinned young woman, dressed in casual clothes--a dark top beneath a grey pullover and jeans--with long dark hair, green eyes and a pretty (really pretty) face.
“Uhm, hi,” Hope ventured forward, peering curiously at the new arrival.
The other witch turned towards her, equally cautious. “Hello,” she replied back. Or tried to. Her voice sounded hoarse and broken, like she hadn’t used it in a long, long time.
Hope stepped a little closer. “I’m Hope,” she introduced herself. “Who are you?”
The witch blinked, a pucker forming between her winged brows. It took her a long moment to pull forth a name. “Bonnie...”
To Hope it sounded more like a question than an answer, but that was okay. Maybe the other girl was a bit disoriented from the spell. She was looking around, confusion evident on her face. She was touching things, too, running her hands over the tree bark like she’d never felt it before.
“Where am I?” The witch croaked.
“You’re at my home. I summoned you.”
The witch, Bonnie, frowned, mulling over the words. “You summoned me?”
“Mmhm,” Hope nodded. “I used this spell.” She waved the soggy paper in her hand proudly. “I’m a witch, too, but I’m still learning, so I needed a bigger witch. Except...you’re not much bigger. I might have messed up,” she confessed, frustrated tears filling her eyes.
Bonnie regarded the little girl with confusion and curiosity. Things were hazy in her mind, like she’d just awoken from a long nap—except she knew she hadn’t been napping. She’d been dead. She had died.
She remembered that much.
She remembered her name was Bonnie Bennett.
She remembered she was a witch.
And that was about all she remembered at the moment.
Seeing the little girl's distress, Bonnie moved towards her, crouching down so that she was eye level. “Why do you need a bigger witch?” She asked, gently.
“B-because people want to hurt my family. I need someone to protect them.” Hope sniffed.
“I see,” Bonnie nodded, even though she didn’t actually understand. What she did understand was that she immensely disliked the idea of anyone trying to harm a child. Taking in Hope’s bedraggled appearance, the water dripping from her unicorn pajamas, and the slightly off color tint to her lips, Bonnie offered a hand. “Why don’t we get you inside your house and dried off and then you can tell me all about it,” she suggested.
“Okay.” Hope took the offered hand.
The moment of contact jolted both of them. Hope lifted her eyes, startled, and found Bonnie’s staring down at her, solemnly, almost glowing. Once more, Bonnie crouched, but as she did, she lifted her free hand, pressing her thumb to Hope’s forehead, between her brows. “ Ego protector tuus sum , usque ad mortem .”
The skin beneath Bonnie’s thumb tingled, bordering on pain, before she lifted it away from Hope’s forehead. Her smooth skin remained unblemished, though Bonnie had half expected to see an imprint.
“What was that?” Hope whispered, reaching up to touch the spot.
Bonnie blinked wide eyes. “I think I just signed your contract,” she murmured, gesturing towards the paper in Hope’s hand. She had reacted entirely on instinct. Whatever magic Hope had used was still in the air.
Hope’s mouth parted in a little ‘o’.
“Come on,” Bonnie said, pushing to her feet. “Let’s get you inside. I’m sure your parents are worried about you.”
“Oh, it’s just my dad, and my aunts and uncles. My mom died when I was born.”
The information was given factually, without a hint of self-pity. Still, Bonnie felt her heart go out to Hope. She knew, all too well, the loss of a parent. “I see. Well, let’s get you back to your dad, okay?”
“He’s sleeping,” Hope chimed, unworried, as they started walking towards a nearby farmhouse. “I used a spell.“
Bonnie glanced down at the girl. She couldn’t be more than seven or eight years old, and was already utilizing magic effectively. It was impressive, to say the least. She was about to ask Hope for more information when her words were cut off by a blur erupting from the screen door.
Bonnie grunted, finding herself slammed against the porch railing, gold eyes hard on hers and a hand fisted around her throat. She clawed helplessly at the hand holding her off the ground, her brain screaming in sudden, unwelcome, recognition.
Klaus Mikaelson .
Enemy!
Reflexively, she slammed the heel of her palm to his face. “ Incendia. ”
Nothing happened, except his grip tightened, choking Bonnie’s airway completely off.
“Daddy! Stop!” Hope cried out.
Daddy?
Bonnie’s eyes widened in alarm.
“Let Bonnie go!” Hope was tugging at his shirt.
Klaus glanced between his daughter and the witch in his grip, confusion on his face. His brows lowered, his nostrils flaring as he scented her. “It can’t be,” he growled. “You’re dead.”
“Daddy!” Hope shouted again, tears forming in her eyes.
Her distress was his undoing. Reluctantly Klaus released his hold, dropping the witch unceremoniously to the ground.
Bonnie clutched a hand to her throat, the other gripping the railing to keep herself upright. Her breath was an asthmatic wheeze but she managed to rasp, “Asshole.”
Klaus shifted, putting himself in front of Hope. “Language, witch,” he snarled.
Seriously? His daughter could witness him strangle a woman, but heaven forbid she hear a cuss word? Bonnie scowled at him.
“Bonnie, this is my dad,” Hope peered around her father’s leg.
“We’ve met,” Bonnie replied, flatly. Barefoot, dressed in a long sleeve shirt and loose sleep pants, Klaus still looked every bit as intimidating as she remembered. Power rolled off of him in waves, causing her own to hum in response, and the firm set of his jaw spoke of retribution should he become displeased.
“Oh! Maybe that’s why it was you!” Hope exclaimed excitedly, pulling Bonnie’s attention away from her father. “Maybe I didn’t mess up.”
“Hope,” Klaus’s voice was quiet as he spoke to his daughter, but his gaze never wavered away from Bonnie. “What did you do?”
Hope squirmed a bit, shifting her weight from one foot to the other while staring at the wooden floorboards beneath her slippered feet. “I just wanted to help—“
“What did you do?” Klaus repeated, words bitten out carefully.
She took a deep breath. “Isummonedabiggerwitch.”
“You what?”
“She summoned me,” Bonnie provided, standing straighter, tipping her chin up and crossing her arms defiantly over her chest.
Little Bonnie Bennett, always too big for her britches, Klaus thought. Although he would never admit it out loud, he had been deeply saddened to hear of her untimely death. He had expected to face off against her a number of times over the years, certain that he’d eventually do something that went against her pious morality.
“And why would you do that?” Klaus asked, but again, his eyes remained fixed on Bonnie. Just waiting for her to breathe in a way he didn’t like.
Hope shrugged, looking away.
“Hope.”
“You’ll get mad,” she whispered.
Klaus finally turned towards her, a frown on his face. He dropped to one knee, resting a hand on Hope’s shoulder. “I won’t,” he promised. “Just tell me.”
She sighed, nodding. “Everyone is so scared, all the time, and I know it’s because of me. We can’t go home because of me,” her lower lip trembled. “I just wanted to help.”
Klaus glanced over at Bonnie then back to Hope. “What was the spell, sweetheart?”
“Protection.”
Klaus wanted to scoff, but kept it in, not wanting to further upset his daughter. He did not need anyone’s help in protecting his family. He was the Original Hybrid. His name alone caused people to quake with fear. “You don’t think I can protect you?”
“She’s not for me,” Hope answered, finally meeting his gaze. “She’s for you.”