HARPER STOOD in front of her couch, her arms crossed as she surveyed the chaotic array of clothes scattered across the small space. The mess of fabrics, colours, and textures seemed to mock her, each outfit a reminder that she had little to work with. She'd been preparing for this dinner with the Mikaelsons, a family well-known and highly regarded in New Orleans.

It was a significant event, one she couldn't afford to show up underdressed for, especially given the Mikaelsons' reputation. The dinner was supposed to be grand—a "Dinner Fit for a King," as Freya had called it—so the pressure to look presentable was starting to weigh on Harper.

She only had one bag when she'd come to town, a bag that was now the sole source of her wardrobe. She hadn't bothered to buy new clothes since her arrival, not thinking she'd ever need anything fancy. But now, as she stood surrounded by her meagre options, Harper couldn't help but feel inadequate. Her clothes were all casual, nothing that could remotely pass as formal. And though she wasn't particularly fond of dressing up, she didn't want to embarrass herself by showing up in something too simple, especially when she knew how important this dinner was.

She sighed and muttered to herself, "Come on, Harper. It can't be that hard to just pick something." Her words echoed in the quiet room, but it did little to calm her nerves. The thought of seeing Elijah again made her feel strangely comforted, but at the same time, a deep sense of dread filled her. It wasn't the kind of dread she usually associated with anxiety—it was more of a hesitation to allow herself to get too close to him. She had felt the warmth in his presence before, but she knew she couldn't let herself be pulled into something more. It was too dangerous, for both of them.

Suddenly, the quiet was broken by a gentle knock on the door. "Knock, knock," came Freya's voice, light and teasing. She pushed open the door and peeked in with a smile. "How's it going, Harp?"

Harper, who had been on the verge of pulling her hair out in frustration, turned to face her friend. "I don't have anything nice to wear," she confessed with a dramatic sigh, gesturing to the pile of clothes that had taken over her couch.

Freya chuckled softly, eyeing the scene. "I had a feeling you didn't. I mean, you did only pack one bag," she said with a teasing grin.

Harper shot her a deadpan look. "We thought the same thing," she replied flatly.

Freya laughed, shaking her head at Harper's dry humour. "Well, lucky for you, dinner isn't until six, and we've still got some time. So I came to pick you up and take you to my place to borrow one of my outfits. It'll be easier than having to catch a taxi or something."

Harper groaned in mock protest as Freya grabbed her by the wrist and began pulling her out of the apartment. "Freya, you're spoiling me," she whined, her voice tinged with reluctant amusement.

Freya just shrugged, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "I hardly have any female companions, besides my sister. And she refuses to let me doll her up," she pouted, and Harper couldn't help but chuckle at the dramatic display. Freya's frustration with her sister was evident, and Harper could see the joy it brought her to spend time with someone who wasn't wrapped up in the chaos of the Mikaelson family.

As they drove to the Mikaelson estate, Harper couldn't shake the surreal nature of the situation. She had come to New Orleans on a whim, running away from her past and the life she had known. In the span of only a few days, she'd found a job and a place to stay. And now, here she was, about to have dinner with one of the most powerful families in the city. It was overwhelming, and Harper couldn't help but feel like she was living in some kind of strange dream.

First, she'd stumbled into a new town, then into a job with Freya, and now she was about to dine with the Mikaelsons. It was as though fate had been working in her favour, but the realization of it all made her feel oddly detached, as though she were floating outside of her own life.

When the Mikaelson home finally came into view, Harper's breath caught in her throat. The mansion was just as grand as she had imagined, its towering structure intimidating in its beauty. The grounds surrounding it were pristine and manicured to perfection. Harper's heart fluttered nervously in her chest as they pulled up to the entrance. She couldn't believe this was happening. Her life had taken such a sudden turn, and she wasn't sure if she was ready for all that it entailed.

Freya noticed Harper's sudden silence and glanced over at her with a concerned expression. "Harp, you okay?" she asked, her voice laced with worry.

Harper hadn't even realized she'd gone quiet, her mind racing with thoughts and doubts. She stared out the window, lost in the moment. When Freya shook her gently, it broke her out of her trance. "Oh, sorry, Frey. What happened?" she mumbled, slightly disoriented.

Freya frowned, her concern deepening. "Are you okay? Are you feeling well?"

At the mention of her health, Harper's face went pale. For a moment, she panicked, wondering if Freya had somehow figured out that she was sick. But she quickly regained her composure, offering a half-smile. "Um, what do you mean?"

"You just went quiet all of a sudden," Freya explained, her voice gentle. "If you're not feeling well, we can always do a rain check. There's no pressure."

Harper quickly realized what Freya was talking about and let out a small, relieved laugh. "Sorry, I was just thinking about how lucky I got," she said, trying to brush off the uncomfortable tension. "I came to this town on a whim, and now I'm about to have dinner with your family."

Freya's expression softened, and she smiled warmly at Harper. "Well, consider me your fairy godmother, oh young one," she said in a mock solemn voice, and both women burst into laughter. The sound of their shared amusement filled the car, and Harper felt her anxiety ease, the knot in her stomach loosening slightly.

For just a moment, everything felt light and simple again. Harper couldn't help but be grateful for the unexpected turn her life had taken, for the people she had met, and for the rare moments of peace she was able to find amidst the chaos.

Freya had become more than just a friend—she had become someone Harper could rely on, someone who had given her a sense of stability in a world that had always felt uncertain. And as the car pulled to a stop at the Mikaelson estate, Harper took a deep breath, ready to face whatever the night might bring.