FREYA GUIDED Harper down the grand staircase to the heart of the Mikaelson estate, where the expansive dining room came into view. The dinner table, long and ornately decorated, was already set with an assortment of elegant dishes, flickering candlelight reflecting off gleaming silverware. Harper's nerves surged as her gaze landed on the Mikaelson siblings, all seated and waiting, their presence filling the room with an aura of power and elegance. To her surprise, there was an unfamiliar face among them—a guest she hadn't expected.

As they approached the table, Elijah rose from his chair with his characteristic grace, a warm smile spreading across his face as his eyes met Harper's. "Ah, Miss Kingsley," he said smoothly, inclining his head. "It's wonderful to see you again."

Freya, ever the poised hostess, gestured for Harper to take the seat directly across from Elijah. "Family," Freya announced, her voice light but firm, "this is Harper Kingsley."

Harper offered a polite, if stiff, "Hello," as she slid into her chair. The tension in her voice didn't go unnoticed. Kol, ever the mischief-maker, let out a low chuckle that earned him a sharp glare from Freya, silencing him—at least momentarily.

Elijah extended a hand toward Harper, his movements deliberate and reassuring. When she placed her hand in his, he brought it to his lips for a light kiss, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "The pleasure is truly ours, Harper. As I promised, we meet again." His smirk was both charming and unnerving, leaving Harper's cheeks burning a deep shade of red.

From the head of the table, Niklaus leaned back in his chair, an amused smirk playing on his lips as he observed the interaction. "Well, dear brother, I must admit—"

"Niklaus," a woman's voice cut through sharply, laced with mild reproach. Harper turned to see a striking woman seated beside Niklaus, her demeanour exuding authority tempered with warmth. "Don't start." She turned her attention to Harper, offering a kind smile. "I'm Keira Mikaelson, Niklaus's wife. Please forgive my husband's... tendencies."

Harper felt a wave of relief at Keira's calming presence and returned the smile. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Keira."

Keira's smile widened. "Likewise, dear. We've heard so much about you."

Before Harper could respond, Freya chimed in. "You've met most of us already, but there's one more introduction to make." She gestured to the reserved man seated at the far end of the table. "This is Finn, our eldest brother."

Finn gave a curt nod, his expression stoic but not unkind. "Greetings," he said simply, his tone measured.

Harper met his gaze, and for a fleeting moment, something passed between them—a shared sense of unease, perhaps, or an unspoken understanding. They both quickly looked away, each letting out a soft, nervous laugh.

Rebekah, seated to Harper's left, leaned forward, her sharp eyes fixed on the newcomer. "I must admit, Harper," she began, her tone cool but curious, "you've certainly piqued our interest."

Kol, ever the provocateur, snorted at his sister's comment. Rebekah shot him a glare. "What?"

"Sister," Kol drawled, a smirk tugging at his lips, "it's just amusing how predictable you are. Let me guess—you're wondering what's so special about her, aren't you?"

Harper felt her hands clench under the table. Though she appreciated Kol's humour, it only heightened her anxiety. She had been asked variations of this question so many times since meeting the Mikaelsons that she had almost rehearsed her answer. Still, the weight of their scrutiny never failed to unsettle her.

Rebekah ignored Kol's remark, keeping her attention on Harper. "So," she continued, her voice softening slightly, "what exactly do you do, Harper?"

Harper took a steadying breath before answering. "Well, before I came to New Orleans, I was living with my parents and planning to attend college. But... certain circumstances arose, and I decided to leave home. I ended up here somewhat by chance."

Rebekah studied her intently, as if trying to uncover some hidden truth. There was nothing outwardly remarkable about Harper, and yet there was something—something faint and unexplainable—that tugged at the edges of Rebekah's senses, a sensation her siblings had also remarked upon.

Freya, sensing Harper's discomfort, interjected with a huff. "Why must you all interrogate her? Honestly, if I'd known you'd be this nosy, I'd have written an essay about Harper beforehand to answer all your questions."

Elijah chuckled softly at Freya's exasperation, the sound warm and rich. Harper couldn't help but feel her heart flutter slightly at the sound.

Meanwhile, Keira observed Harper closely, her expression thoughtful. There was something about the young woman—a shadow of something unspoken. Keira's instincts as a Guardian Werewolf told her Harper was hiding more than just a vague past. It was in her aura, in the way she carried herself. And then it hit her like a soft whisper: Harper was sick. Gravely so.

Keira kept the revelation to herself, respecting Harper's privacy. It wasn't her place to voice such a discovery, but it deepened her understanding of the girl's guarded nature. Harper wasn't just evading their questions out of shyness or discomfort—she was protecting herself, her story, and perhaps her dignity.

As dinner commenced, Harper tried her best to relax, participating in the lighthearted banter Freya initiated to ease the tension. But beneath the surface, she couldn't shake the feeling that this evening was not just a dinner—it was a test, a game of revelations and subtle probes.

And as much as Harper feared the truth slipping out, a part of her yearned for someone to truly see her—not the polite smiles or the carefully chosen words, but the raw, unvarnished reality of who she was and the burden she carried. It was an ache she couldn't put into words, a silent plea she didn't dare voice. Living in the shadow of her own mortality had made her feel like a ghost in her own life, passing through moments without truly being present.

She often felt like an observer, watching others live with the kind of reckless abandon she could no longer afford. Tonight was no different. She could feel the weight of their gazes, curious and probing, and it made her want to shrink into herself, to keep her secret buried deep where no one could reach it. Yet, there was a small, rebellious part of her that longed for connection, for someone to notice her struggles without her having to spell them out.

Sitting across from Elijah, she found herself wondering if he already knew—or at least suspected. There was something about the way he looked at her, his gaze calm but piercing, as if he could see past the surface and into the storm she tried so hard to hide. Keira, too, seemed to watch her with a kind of quiet understanding, her smile kind but tinged with something Harper couldn't quite place.

The laughter and chatter around the table felt both comforting and overwhelming. Harper wanted to be part of it, to lose herself in the warmth of Freya's jokes or Kol's sharp wit, but the truth sat like a stone in her chest, heavy and immovable. She wasn't just hiding her illness—she was hiding the fear that had come with it, the anger, the sadness, the desperate hope that maybe, just maybe, she could have a little more time to live.

The dinner carried on, the clinking of glasses and soft hum of conversation filling the room. Harper smiled when she needed to, nodded at the right moments, and even managed a laugh or two. But beneath it all, she was holding her breath, waiting for the moment when someone might see through the cracks in her armour.

Because as much as she feared the truth slipping out, she was tired—tired of carrying it alone, tired of pretending everything was fine, tired of the silence that came with secrets. And if just one person could understand, if just one person could meet her in that vulnerable place, maybe she wouldn't feel so invisible.

an: in case you didn't know, keira is from my niklaus book. Also to understand why Finn was there check out that story!