Klaus was in time-out.

"How necessary was this?" said Yara uncomfortably as Elijah prepared to remove Papa Tunde's blade from Klaus, something which was apparently causing him immense torment and keeping him comatose.

"He was already beating into Rebekah when I found them," said Elijah, his touch causing Klaus to gasp in pain as he prepared to make an incision. "She and Marcel have run. I need you to handle this while I go and see what occurred with Céleste and the wolves. They were successful in kidnapping her, and I suspect now that it is day, they will be either cured or about to be. I've made a deal with Monique Deveraux to ensure Céleste is returned to her true body where she can be killed permanently."

"So my task is just to keep Klaus from going after Rebekah and Marcel?"

"Precisely. And, if you could, conduct some research to see what can be done about healing Father Kieran."

"That, I can do. I'll even do you one better and hire the sniper I've been eyeing to take out Bastianna and Genevieve. One pop, they'll never see it coming."

He smiled tightly. "One thing at a time."

He used a scalpel to slice into the scar on Klaus's chest, opening it wide enough to jam in his fist, grabbing the blade and pulling it out. The hybrid groaned in agony before letting out a yell, looking quite weak even after the blade was removed.

"You will feed him this, slowly, throughout the day," offered Elijah, holding out a blood bag with a small puncture at the top.

"Did you inject this with vervain?" said Yara in disbelief, able to smell it from the hole.

"Yes. It will burn him to keep him ingesting it slower. Persuade him not to murder his baby sister or your son." He turned to Klaus, who was glaring murderously at him. "Niklaus, it was not my desire to bring you pain, but I will not see you hurt Rebekah."

"Elijah," Klaus rasped weakly. "You will pay for this."

Yara waited until the elder brother was gone to sit on the bed, propping Klaus up as comfortably as she could. "We could do this the easy way or the hard way," she said, offering him a sip of the vervain-filled blood bag. "You prove to me you will let Rebekah be, and I can get you blood without vervain in it. If you continue to be moody, I assure you that you will learn how far a pregnant woman's rage can extend."

"You are angry," he whispered, seeing the look on her face. "You've been crying."

"Yes. I'm quite frustrated, actually. This revelation hurts me as much as it hurts you. The boy we raised, who we told about our childhoods enduring abuse, brought that wicked man here to be with Rebekah, who knew better than anyone how awful Mikael was. I still remember the day she told me how she tried to kill him!" She noticed the look on Klaus's face. "You didn't know?"

He shook his head weakly. "She tried to kill him to protect you," murmured Yara. "Elijah stopped her. She wouldn't have survived the guilt. But she meant to, you know. Still, it... it is very upsetting to know they resorted to that. It's why I never wanted to be so vocal about my dislike of their relationship. Yes, I wanted them to be happy, but I wasn't any more a fan of it than you were, and I hoped that by letting them do it, they'd break up on their own and we wouldn't be responsible for any bad feelings. Though, to see this as the solution..."

He reached for her hand, allowing her to lace her fingers with his. "I think of all that we lost that day," she murmured. "In truth, it hurt more to lose Marcel than to hurt you. I don't mean this to be offensive, I simply think losing a partner can never compare to losing a child. And yet, that night, I lost both of you. I thought both were my fault. I wasn't strong enough, in fact, I was so weak that I said awful things."

"You have apologized," he croaked. "Let it be."

"I know. That doesn't make me forget I did it, though. To think that we could have had another century in this city, that we might have still been together. Marcel and Rebekah could have grown apart, he could have started to entertain someone like... like... well, more like Cami, she is sweet. We could have been happy. Instead... we all went our separate ways and became worse."

"They will pay for this," he managed to sneer. "For... taking you... from me."

"Don't make it all about that. We have to see it through their eyes. We cannot let our anger and disappointment ruin these bonds. Your siblings forgave you for killing your mother, for leading them along with a lie for a thousand years. Namely, Rebekah. Who has always stood by your side and could have walked out the instant she learned the truth. But she didn't. She continued to support you and... I know this is a great offense. This one, I take very personally.

"I just know that if she could find it in her heart to let you live after what she learned... she deserves the same mercy. Now, I am not saying you ought to forgive her. This will not be a mark so easily erased; it will always linger and we may forevermore think of what we lost because of this decision. Though, it may bring you true peace if you simply let her go and let her wallow in her guilt.

"Really, will it please you at all to kill her? Perhaps for a few minutes. And then when it hits you that you are truly alone, that your loyal sister will never side with you again, that you will have lost Elijah, too... you won't be happy then. Rebekah supported you more than he ever did. Why, recently, he was plotting to kill you! Do you really wish to go back to that? They are the only two siblings you have left. Why muck it up by taking your anger out and immediately... being left with nothing?"

He made a face, not too pleased with her suggestions. "As for Marcel," she continued, "he is our son. Our boy. You killing him would... would break the silent oath you made when you chose to adopt him, to become his father figure. I hate it whenever children are murdered, but I hate it most when their own parents do the deed. Choosing to have them just to beat them and then later what, drown them in a bathtub? It sickens me. I don't... I don't want to feel sickened by you, Klaus. Marcel made a great mistake but like Rebekah, I don't think this merits death. And it won't make you feel better. I cannot lose him again, Klaus. I can't go through that grief a second time, it will kill me. And I know it would kill you, too."

He slid his hand from his grip on hers to her stomach, palm spread over her bump and perhaps listening to the baby's faint heartbeat to calm himself. He closed his eyes, breathing slowly. She dared to put her hand over his cheek, letting her thumb caress his temple.

"You may not know it, but I, too, was always very quick to react with anger when I first turned," she whispered. "I would have lashed out at anyone who stepped on my toes, who looked at me the wrong way. Anger drove me for a long time. It was how I had to survive. I know you were also in that fight, you had to get mad to win, you had to stay violent to keep your family safe. This conflict with the witches is concerning and likely far from over but one thing is certain, Klaus. Mikael is dead. You don't have to use those same survival tactics anymore. You can be at peace here if you choose to have it. If you decide to just let them go and give it some time. Eventually, they will try and reach out to say how sorry they are. Eventually, the lesson will be learned. They have lived with this guilt for so long. It will take time for us to feel we can trust them again, but it will also take time for them to accept who they are now that this came to light. This changes everything. The secret is out, it caught up to them, and nothing is the same. We adapt, we overcome. Besides, they are likely far away by now. They won't be returning for a long time."

Klaus's eyes opened, irises a darker blue than usual. "Oh, I'm not so sure about that. They'll need a Cloaking Spell, and for that, they'll need a witch. Thierry would not be foolish enough to let his girlfriend Katie help them. And now that they know that the resurrected witches are taking the place of the Harvest Girls..."

"Even if they do come back, you will not hurt them."

He still wasn't fully convinced he shouldn't follow his murderous instincts. "You realize that Rebekah made me feel as though it was my fault, the entire time, that Marcel died, that we lost you? She stood by and let us rip into one another. Imagine all the years we could have had, Yara. I... I thought of you a great deal when I broke my curse. I always imagined that if it happened, you would be there. You would have celebrated it with me."

"But the past isn't going to change," she sighed. "And if that had happened, you wouldn't have this baby, would you?"

He faltered, nearly withdrawing his hand. She continued, "Yes, again, I wish things could have been different, but sometimes things happen for a reason, they lead us to where we are. We were reunited. Marcel wasn't dead. We have... a chance. Look, the fact I'm even still alive is a miracle. Two Originals killed and luckily I wasn't part of either sireline. What if we'd been together all that time and in that reality, I was part of Finn or Kol's sireline and I died?"

"That's ridiculous–"

"Yes, but in that reality, it could have been different. We can't change it. So we accept it. We move on. Dwelling does us no good. We alter our behavior to be better people so that the people around us don't feel like they have to resort to extremes just to be happy. It doesn't even matter... Marcel and Rebekah are no longer together. Give them time. Please. Don't hurt them. I am begging you, Klaus. As Marcel's mother, as the woman carrying your child." Hoping to add one more thing to convince him, "I would very much like for this little one to have an aunt to accessorize them and to have a big brother they can rely on. Someday, you know."

He relented at last. "If it would please you."

"No, I want you to do it because you know, deep down, you would be lost without them."

Klaus rolled his eyes. "Perhaps I would be."

"Might I recommend you and Elijah talk this out when he gets home?"

"Elijah shoved a blade that causes untold suffering into my chest."

"To keep you from killing your little sister. Who you were apparently beating up when he arrived."

He wove his hand weakly, as if to say 'tomato, tomato.'

Apparently, however, Klaus had been right about one thing. Rebekah and Marcel weren't as far as Yara would have liked them to be.

"Are you freaking kidding me?" she snapped, confronting Marcel at Thierry's loft in Algiers. "Why the hell are you here?!"

Marcel stared at Thierry, who held up his hands in surrender. "She's your mom, dude, I had to tell her you were here."

"We accomplished what we needed," said Marcel sourly. "Thierry and Rebekah helped me kill Bastianna. And apparently, Elijah killed Céleste. Two more Harvest Girls back. Abigail and Davina."

"Brilliant! So Rebekah is treading dangerous waters after I barely managed to convince Klaus to let you all have your space instead of hunting you down. She's practically delivering herself to him on a silver platter! It could be too soon and it could be that he forgets everything I said and just murders her. You better hope they talk it out and nobody dies. Speaking of, you need to go. Now. The last thing I want is for him to hurt you. I'll go check on Davina."

"No! I'm taking her with me when I leave. She's sleeping now but she should be up soon. Then, we go."

"Don't be ridiculous, you're not whisking her away without her say so! Not to mention she died for the sake of this ritual and may still want to practice magic now that her friends are back. If you're going to check on her, I'm coming with you."

"I can handle it on my own, Yara–"

"If you're going to insist on remaining in this city, I will accompany you. If Klaus goes on a rampage, you really think you'll be able to stop him from killing you? No. I'm probably the only one who stands a chance of giving him pause. He's pissed at Elijah, he's pissed at Rebekah, he's pissed at you. And my god if I were human this stress would have probably killed me and miracle baby by now. So don't add to it and just let me come with you to see that girl! She meant something to me, too, and if she's alive again, I want to confirm it for myself."

He wouldn't have managed to keep her out even if he tried.

Yara followed him up to the St. Anne's attic to check on Davina, who was now awake and sitting on her bed, much paler than Yara remembered.

"Oh, my sweet girl," said Yara, bringing her into a hug. "It's true, you're back..." She cupped her face, "Back and just as beautiful as ever."

Davina smiled weakly. "Hi Yara."

Marcel waved at her from the door. "How are you feeling, D? We got you some stuff– organic soap, scented candles, some incense, just trying to help you get back to feeling, you know, yourself. Word on the street is the witches are celebrating. Three out of the four girls sacrificed in the Harvest have come back. First, it was your friend, Monique, and then another girl, now you. What I hear, the others are saying that the Ancestors were with them while they were, uh, dead. You know, talking to them, teaching them. They say they're stronger than ever. Was it like that for you?"

Yara could immediately see that Davina was afraid. She shook her head. "There was nothing. It was cold, empty, and dark. And it went on forever."

The vampire smoothed a hand through her hair. "Would you like to talk about it?"

"No, I don't want to, please don't make me..."

"Of course not, we would never make you. Here, I brought food, too." She got up, offering her a box of thai food. "I have apple juice, too, if you'd like."

Davina practically inhaled her food. Meanwhile, Yara was texting Elijah, who was letting her know that he, Klaus, and Rebekah had sat down in the courtyard to talk their situation out. Encouraged by this, Marcel left, letting Yara know he felt it would be good for Davina to talk to someone like Cami.

"Feeling better?" asked Yara, reaching out to braid Davina's hair as the girl began to pick at her nails anxiously.

"A bit," she murmured, tilting her head. "You're having a girl. I can sense it."

Her hands paused. "You can feel that?"

"Yes. She will be very powerful. Part witch... part wolf... part vampire. That's why they're afraid of her. A little girl, a tribrid, with the Mikaelson temper, the chaotic magic used by the Original Witch... Crescent royalty."

"Royalty," murmured Yara. "I suppose yes, technically. Hayley had the Labonair birthmark, and the Labonairs were one of the two royal lines."

"Yes. I feel it." She wrung her hands together. "Yara? Something is wrong, isn't it? You and Marcel... something seems strange."

"There is something that happened, yes, but we can talk about it some other time. I want today to be about you. What do you say we give this room a good sprucing up? Unless you'd like to move back to the Compound or would like me to find you an apartment."

"Here is good," said Davina. "I just don't have the motivation to clean it."

"Then you don't have to. I will do it. You just sit there," she finished the braid, adding the scrunchie to the end, "and tell me if you have any preferences."

She was done by the time Marcel arrived with Cami, who Davina wasn't as happy to see. The two vampires tried to give them privacy by heading downstairs, but as expected, could still hear the entire conversation.

"I've studied the effects of trauma and abuse," Cami started. "The witches that forced you into that ritual, they've lied to you. They hurt you."

Davina wasn't having it. "Cami, there's nothing you've studied in some book that can help me."

"Okay, forget the books. Let me tell you what I know from experience. When my brother died, I never thought I'd be okay again. I cried for weeks. I blamed myself. I blamed him, and then I realized all that... sadness was swallowing me up. And I made a choice. I wasn't going to let it. You can make that choice, Davina."

"You say that like it's so simple, but the witches aren't just gonna let me go. They're not done with me."

"No one can control you unless you let them."

"How do I even know who to trust? It feels like I'm always being used. Be honest, Cami. Isn't there something you want, too?"

Reluctantly, Cami admitted, "Yeah. My uncle is sick. I thought you could help him." They heard a small sob. "That's not why I'm here. I care about you. I want to help you."

"What can you do?" asked Davina between tears. "When I came back, the voices I heard, they said the only ones who could help me are the witches. But, after what I did to them, they hate me. So, how can I go back and ask for their help now?"

"I think we should step out for the rest of the session," murmured Yara. She looked down at her phone, relieved when Elijah let her know that Klaus had let Rebekah go. She was essentially exiled from the Quarter, but he wouldn't be hurting her. In fact, he'd even told her he just wanted her to be happy. That, of course, meant Marcel could have a similar fate. With the same conditions of exile.

He was fine with this, apparently already looking into lofts in Algiers. He was more concerned about striking a deal with the witches to see if they could be a little kinder to Davina, taking the fall for her not going through with the ritual sooner.

"Hey."

Klaus turned to Yara, having been holding a small wooden knight he'd carved for Rebekah a long time ago. "Where were you, love?"

"Went to see Davina," she said, coming closer. "I also spoke with Hayley on the phone. Confirmed that which I already knew considering Elijah killed Céleste. The Crescents are cured. In a month, at the next full moon when they stay human, she'd like to start negotiations with you alongside the Crescent Alpha, Jackson Kenner. I posed the idea of an alliance."

"You did?"

"We're going to need it if the witches are going to continue being a problem. Besides, Davina reminded me that this baby is Crescent royalty. Eventually..." she smiled slightly, "she will have a place in the pack." When Klaus raised a brow, she clarified, "Davina sensed it's a girl. Would you like to come with me to the doctor to confirm it?"

He nodded slowly. "Yes. I'd like that very much."

They returned just as Rebekah was shouldering her bags to head for the airport.

"Please take care," said Yara, hugging her tightly. "I'd very much like this little girl to have a fashionable aunty she can look up to."

"I cannot wait to meet her," said Rebekah sadly. "Thank you for speaking with my brother. And Yara... I am so, so very sorry. For everything I caused. For sitting there and letting you break each other's hearts knowing I was the culprit."

She sighed, "As long as we all learn from our mistakes. And promise never to make them again."

"I swear to you, I never will. I only ask that you make sure to tell that little girl the many stories you know about her crazy Auntie Bex. And let her know, despite my absence, I do love her very much."

She didn't feel any pleasure in watching Rebekah go.

A month later, everyone was still sulking.

Though the witches had accepted Davina back into their ranks, it didn't seem like she was having a good time there. Yara visited her every day to hear her rants while Davina let her try new hairstyles, even teaching her how to use makeup when the girl had expressed an interest in it.

In the afternoons, she went to see Marcel. Though he liked living closer to his best friend, he didn't like being away from the Quarter. Yara tried to cheer him up with food, but it was becoming clear nothing could replace his cozy bed in the Compound. She couldn't blame him; out of all the places she'd lived, her room there was her favorite.

Klaus was sulking, which was somewhat an anticipated consequence. He hadn't given thought to her deal with the wolves, but Elijah had, and while the hybrid complained and spent most of the day in his art room making angry landscapes, the elder Original had begun to broker a peace with the individuals of the supernatural community.

Father Kieran was deteriorating quickly (there was no luck on any end with a search for a cure), but still representing the Human Faction. Thierry hadn't wanted to speak for the vampires without Marcel there, which meant Diego was the community's voice. Genevieve, the only remaining resurrected witch (who Yara now hated for being a smug bitch that Davina complained about often) now spoke for the whole French Quarter Coven. And, once the Crescents had been confirmed to be cured, Elijah had cautiously invited Jackson Kenner and Hayley to be part of the summit per Yara's request, warning him that she would take matters into her own hands if he didn't try to forge a bond with them.

"She's moving again," complained Yara while caterers and party planners rushed in and out of the Compound, setting up for a party that Klaus miraculously suggested after Elijah expressed having trouble with forging his peace treaty. "The soccer world cup was a year and a half ago, please, you're a little late to the party. And you missed the best song ever. I'm so bummed out for you. For Christmas, can I have an ingestible kickboxing arena for her to practice in without destroying the layout of my organs?"

Klaus wasn't entirely sure how painful this was for her, but he offered her a supportive smile. "Will you be well enough to attend the party?"

"Well enough, yes. Accessorized enough? No. I've yet to find a maternity dress I like. Seriously, it's like they think all pregnant women want to wear the blandest clothes ever. Not my style. I want something like what you'd wear at the Met Gala, but with room for my eighteen-week belly."

"I'll find something for you, love," offered Klaus. "If you wish."

"No, it's okay, I'm going to keep looking. What are you serving? I need to know if I should request something just for me."

"You'll need to ask Elijah about that. Though, knowing him, I am sure there is something with salmon in it that you will like."

Yara nodded, rubbing her belly when another kick came. "Oh, I can't take this, Klaus, tell your child to stop doing that. Normally, humans wouldn't be so bothered by movement this early, but I feel everything more magnified. I can only imagine what'll happen when she starts doing it every single day."

Hesitantly, he leaned over, putting a hand on her stomach. "Stop it, my littlest wolf. You're hurting your mother."

Magically, she stopped moving around.

"So you'll listen to him and not to the person actually accommodating you," said Yara. "You are your father's daughter for sure."

"You can be stubborn too, if I recall correctly," he said with narrowed eyes. "In fact, if she learned it from anyone, she learned it from you."

"With that amount of attitude, no wonder the witches are afraid."

"I grow fonder of this child with each new thing I learn about her."

"Now that we know it's a girl, should we discuss names?"

"You can discuss it. I have no ideas."

Yara shrugged. "Me neither. I do know what I'd like in a name, though, something with meaning, with... power. The Mikaelson surname already grants her a lot of it, but I want her first name to really stir feelings. Rebekah and I discussed Isadora and Annette in the past, both my names given by my mother. But I don't know if I like it enough."

She watched as Elijah passed by across the courtyard, instructing the caterers to set the food up on tables in the ballroom. "When you and Rebekah were kidnapped... there was a lot going on in my head. When I was in that burning house, I was clinging to hope that I'd survive. I wanted to live, I wanted the baby to live, I wanted to have this experience; it's why I agreed to it in the first place. When I learned the truth about Marcel and Rebekah's betrayal, I was clinging to hope that you wouldn't hurt them. That same hope manifested again when I saw Davina and I just... wanted that girl to be safe and happy. I hoped with all my heart that she might one day have peace.

"When Elijah was forced to make that choice by Céleste, he said something to me. How he chose to go after me because he was saving the future and hope of the family. I thanked him for protecting that hope. I love the word in Portuguese, esperança. And the name in Spanish... Esperanza."

"You wish for her name to be Esperanza Mikaelson?"

"Not exactly, because I don't like the way it would be pronounced in this country. They wouldn't say Esperanza so smoothly, they'd say 'Es-pur-anne-zuh.' I don't like it. No... the surname Mikaelson is already long. Short, sweet, and... quite literally given to her by her uncle. I like the name Hope. What do you think?"

His expression softened. "Hope Mikaelson. I like it."