Endgame ? Sweet but Psycho

2026
New Orleans, Louisiana
The Mikaelson Compound

The embarrassment could last her the century. It was horrible, there was no way Poppy could show her face for the next hundred years. At least that's what she told herself. And because of that she sat in the darkest corner of her bedroom with the lights off and the curtains blocking the sunlight. Her knees were pressed against her chest, held there by her arms and used as a chin rest. She stared off into the darkness of the room.

The spell didn't work. Poppy had put a tremendous amount of energy into a spell that didn't work. She put on a dramatic show, a display of her pain and weakness.

Poppy knelt on the ground at the edge of the water, looking at all of the eyes. They pitied her. They despised her impulsiveness. She ruined the funeral. The tribrid looked down at the ground and away from the eyes, no longer able to make eye contact with anyone, not even her own father, who had lifted her up to her feet. From there she had disappeared.

And that brought her to where she was at the given moment.

God, she was so stupid. She had given everyone a false hope, she gave her sister the false hope that her mother would come back to life. She really did ruin everything.

All Poppy wanted to do now was dig a hole and bury herself in it. She brought her fingers to Stefan's ring, which had been returned to her by Caroline, who had the tracking team from the school find it. I wish you were here...things would be so much easier.

There was a quiet knock at her door, and for a brief moment it opened, light pouring in from the world outside of the tribrid's bedroom. The door closed. The person stood by the door, their eyes adjusting to the dark.

"We could really use your help..." Hope spoke quietly and gently. "I know the resurrection spell didn't work, but I don't think we can do this without you." The younger sister walked with light steps over to the tribrid and sat down. "Please? Don't you want everyone to be together again?"

"Fine."

...

"In New Orleans, bodies cannot be buried. Instead, in boxes above the ground, the dead cluster together. When a man passes on, his family tomb is cracked open. Old bones are shoved aside to make room for the fresh remains. Bloodlines rot, entangled. The houses are that way, too. Layer up one layer of peeling paint, hiding little tragedies. Scorch marks from the fires. Waterlines on wallpaper. These are the tombs of the living, where we rot alongside memories of our dead. Crowded with people we have failed and those who have failed us. We are forced to struggle with those we love." Niklaus spoke, his hands resting on the balcony railing, looking down upon the courtyard of the Abattoir. After the funeral, the lot of the Mikaelsons found themselves in a Chambre de Chasse, one made to look exactly like the compound.

Poppy stood behind her father, rolling her eyes. "You're so dramatic." She told him, turning away from him to see Elijah approaching.

"Every last exit is sealed." He stated. Klaus turned around, and the hated brother continued to speak. "If you're thinking about jumping, don't. I already tried it. I landed in the world's most pretentious wine cellar."

Elijah locked eyes with Poppy, not bothering to hide the guilt that twisted the organs inside of his undead body. She furrowed her eyebrows. "You sorted it by vintage..." her uncle tilted his head "but you don't remember, do you?" The tribrid turned to look at her dad. "I thought Marcellus was intent on retrieving his memories, why hasn't he done it yet?"

"He was." Elijah answered. "He failed. I still remember absolutely nothing and Antoinette is dying." Though she wasn't, Poppy had given her a vial of her own blood..but Klaus had yet to find that out.