Her apartment was beautiful.

Andra had never had such a nice place, perhaps because having had to lay low throughout her life didn't allow her the luxury of acquiring a nice place all for herself despite all the money she once had.

Marcel had made sure it came furnished, saving her the stress of trying to find the right couches, bureaus, and even a good bed. She had no complaints, especially not when she opened the kitchen cupboards and found pots and pans already waiting for her.

She made a simple soup for dinner, then sat on her bathroom sink, tending to her dislocated shoulder and making sure she had nothing else to worry about. She took a bath followed by a long shower, cleansing everything and finally feeling like she could relax.

That was far from the truth, but one could dream.

She slept like a rock all night, hugging her new pillow and feeling as though she was sleeping on a cloud. Though, she wouldn't say she rested. She usually dreamt a little each night. But instead, all she saw was darkness. The darkness Ryan was probably experiencing at that very moment.

"You are doing that all wrong."

"I am trying," she complained, doing her best to fix her stance. "I do not see myself being as proficient with arrows as you. You have mastered practically every weapon." She fired the arrow, disappointed when it didn't even hit the target.

Ryan shrugged. "I have had forty more years than you to learn it all. You are not doomed, Malia. You just have to accept corrections instead of insisting you are trying and then continuing to fail. Here, lift your back arm more, breathe, relax your grip on the bow. Try again."

She made the corrections, delighted when the arrow hit the edge of the target at long last.

"Sometimes big brother does know best," said Ryan proudly. He tensed when he heard footsteps. "Father."

Malivore appeared behind them, towering over the two who stood closely together, trying to pretend they weren't afraid. He offered them a small piece of paper, informing them of the next creature they were meant to bring him.

That was one of the last times they were near their father, having gotten away soon after to conduct business on their own, sending creatures from afar via lieutenants and on the side, cooking their plan to get rid of him.

"We will be free, Malia," said Ryan, massaging her neck after she'd fallen off her horse mid-chase. "We will be rid of him. Feeling better?"

"No," she said, still finding no feeling in her toes. "Just break it and I will come back fully healed."

"You need to stop getting yourself hurt. We are supposed to be doing this evenly. You kill me once, I kill you another time. But two days prior it was the slit throat to fix your punctured lung and now this."

"I will learn to be careful like you, in time," she said. He snapped her neck before she could expect it.

In the morning, someone rang her doorbell. She slipped out of bed tiredly to answer it, but found no one there, only a small stack of papers on the floor.

She read through them, examining all the jobs she could potentially apply for. Some did sound as awful as she'd wanted them to. Waiting tables at a nearby gumbo shack, washing dishes at the nearest university's dining hall.

She pulled out one that seemed to grant her the most alone time: taking over as manager of the Jardin Gris Voodoo Shop,recently left with no one to run it after Klaus had killed Katie. No witch was allowed to run it anymore, per Marcel's orders (according to a small note he seemed to have left her).

She figured he was subtly pointing her toward this particular job. She'd be in the Cauldron, able to keep an eye on the witches. No one would know she knew him, they'd only see a simple foreigner trying to make a living and being unafraid of a supposedly haunted shop.

She figured she knew enough about herbs and a few magical items to fool the tourists. A real witch would probably feel offended if she tried to school them on any effects, but she figured real witches didn't shop here anyway. The position would pay well enough that she could be persuaded to do research and get better at it, even if just for the ditzy tourists.

"I want this one," she said when she surprised Marcel with a phone call. "The voodoo shop. Compel me the job and make sure I get paid cash. I don't know how to have a bank account."

"What happened to 'good morning,' or 'hello,' or 'please?'" asked Marcel.

"Good morning, Marcel, hello, can you get me this job or not?"

"You don't have manners, do you?"

"If you want me on my knees, all you have to do is ask, handsome."

"Funny. Yeah, I can get you the job. But if you intend to be a normal person, you can't expect everything to be cash-only. I'll have one of my guys give you detailed instructions on what to do to set up a bank account and how to get a debit card. We'll give you the name of a specific teller who knows about the supernatural so they can be more patient in guiding you through it if you still have questions."

"See, that earns a thank you."

"You are a little shit, I hope you know that."

"Wouldn't have survived if I was sweet. What about clothes? Is there a particular supernatural store that could just give me everything for free? There are only a few things here."

"Yeah, I'll have someone tell you where to go for that, too. Can you drive?"

"No, I was imprisoned before cars were even invented. They look easy enough, though."

"Maybe if you learn fast. If you think you need one, I can have someone teach you. Seriously, they couldn't have given golems the ability to compel?"

"If I could compel, I'd be set for life. Unfortunately, I can't, so I still need you."

"Good, because I need your help, too. You were sent here to hurt someone in the Original family. I take it you've already been to where they live? How long have you even been in this city, anyway?"

"Few days. Broke into people's homes to sleep and shower whenever I wasn't sneaking around and listening. They live a little out of town, not close enough to the city for me to get close, otherwise it'll be pretty obvious I'm watching them if I walk by on foot. Big white house, large field in the back."

He paused, and she realized he hadn't known. "This wasn't a test," she noted. "You actually needed information."

"Well, Klaus told me he was staying at the Palace Royale. I happen to know that's not true but I didn't think he'd be there.How did you find that out, anyway?"

"My father told me. He just knew."

"Look, if you're being tasked with killing Klaus, I'll be happy to help you do it. I want him gone. Now, if the task is killing Rebekah–"

"I know, you'd try to kill me as a precaution since you don't want your lovely ex reduced to ash."

"How do you even know that, anyway? The stuff from 1919..."

"Well, I read just about every article published in New Orleans after 1812, found one clipping with a picture of you and Klaus, read about the fire, and then contacted my father, had him ask his sources under the guise that I was getting information for the job."

"And what sources could have possibly known classified information?"

She sighed, figuring she ought to explain, "My father's original form is true to what you imagine a golem might be like. Mud. But the reason I was imprisoned was because my brother and I changed that. We turned him into a puddle, a pit. Remember when I mentioned dragons, mermaids, nymphs, and unicorns? They were once real. And my father consumed them. He can consume any mythical creature, as long as it isn't a witch, wolf, or vampire, since a triad of them created him in the first place.

"At first it was to get rid of the dragons, which roamed the Earth around the same time your pal Klaus Mikaelson was just a little boy, simply in a different region. But would he ever remember hearing about them? No. And not because he was a child but because when a creature is consumed by my father, it is forgotten. They exist in books as legends because someone did once capture records of them but because everyone forgot they were once real, they remained just that... stories and myths. That's been my network. Those creatures have witnessed all sorts of things. It's how I would find Klaus for Mikael; once a nymph saw him, another time a thunderbird flew overhead and told me where he went. There are creatures you might not have ever heard of, with so few stories, but those say there truly are little bugs that linger and listen and are able to use their little feet to write what they hear. There are cats and dogs who seem like lovable strays but can really turn into far more vicious beasts on full moons who can speak. What you all know of the world is so little."

He was silent again. "This doesn't even sound real."

"I wish it wasn't. I wish I wasn't. But it is. I am real, this is real. Malivore is real."

"Malivore. That's your father's name?"

"Yes."

He tried to lighten the mood. "So where did 'Clarke' come from?"

"Well, Ryan picked it. Ryan means 'little king' and he thought it made him strong. Clarke, he just liked, didn't necessarily think of it having any meaning. He didn't want to be 'Malison' or 'Malivorson' or any variation of that. My names, he picked for a reason. Andra means 'strong and brave,' and Malia, what he calls me, means 'bitter.' He thought I had a resting bitch face when my father finished creating me."

"Mine means 'little warrior,' comes from the god Mars. But I bet you knew that."

"I did. And your daughter's name is just as cute."

Silence. He seemed to like getting quiet. Or maybe she did genuinely have a talent for leaving him at a loss for words. "You knew."

"Of course I knew," said Andra. "One girl survives the infamous Harvest ritual after the vampires intervene and she's not seen or heard from again? The witches here all bow down to you and are afraid and can't practice magic because you have some secret weapon but yesterday you had a witch test my blood and try a Locator Spell quite easily. And when I asked about the girl you were mentoring, you became protective. That's how I knew. She's your secret weapon. She's what Klaus wants, why he made that spy of his, Cami, change her mind and say yes to your request to keep an eye on her. How did the festival go, by the way?"

"Fine," he said tightly. "I take it you don't need me to say clearly that if you–"

"Relax, little warrior, I have no intention of hurting a child. I never have and I never would. Besides, I know better than to mess with a witch, especially if she's all-powerful and the only one allowed to practice magic. I know the lengths a father would go for his daughter if he was anything like you. I've no intention of being on the receiving end of any more violence. It's admirable, how you've protected her."

Marcel didn't seem eager to talk anymore. Perhaps he was growing agitated or just nervous, thinking of all the ways Davina Claire could be hurt by this new face that he still didn't trust. "I'll have one of my guys get you the details for the bank account and debit card. The voodoo shop is yours. Keys will be delivered to you by this afternoon."

"Thank you, Marcel," she replied before he hung up on her.

She went to the bank first, clutching the papers that explained in detail how bank accounts worked, how debit cards worked, and how she could download an 'app' on her phone to check her balance. The teller had been very helpful, even depositing a thousand dollars at Marcel's request, to sustain her until she began to earn money at the shop.

She asked about rent for the apartment she was living at, but it seemed she didn't have to pay anything yet. The owner had been compelled to let her stay there up to six months for free. After that, she would be charged monthly, but by then, she'd have enough money and she'd know how to use it in this new society.

As normal of a life as she could have wanted. There was only one person missing from it.

After receiving the keys for the Jardin Gris, she went to meet the owner for coffee. She absolutely hated the macchiato he ordered for her but she enjoyed getting to drink something she didn't even like just to talk about a job. She never thought she could do something so mundane without killing being involved. It was almost pleasant.

It was decided that she would run everything, but if any maintenance was needed, or if any problems arose with the shipments she'd be receiving and shelving, she'd have to contact the owner. He was an older man not keen on having to worry too much about his business. He didn't care what she did as long as it continued to flourish.

After buying herself lunch with her new card (a sandwich too big to fit in her mouth, which she chopped to bits with one of her knives), she sat on the floor of the filled-to-the-brim shop, mapping out how she wanted to reorganize everything.

"It's said you can't even find your own hand in front of your face here."

"I believe that," said Andra, taking another bite and not looking up at Marcel. "I'm sure someone finds this all very cute but it simply won't do. I'm going to buy a new shelf and some small boxes and I'll label everything properly. Might bolt a few planks to those walls, take down those posters I know nothing about and maximize how much is put on the perimeter so we don't have all these racks in the middle. Give people room to walk around."

"Looks like you're settling in nicely," he said, looking around. "Looks like Thierry was right. I'd never been in here."

"You spoke to Thierry recently?"

"Yeah. Thought about what you said. You were right, he insists this is a set up. I can't pardon him until I have evidence 'cause it'll make me look weak. But he did mention some of my guys might be compelled."

"Of course," she said, shrugging. "If I were Klaus, that's the first thing I'd do. Get inside men, find out as much as I can about what you're up to. Now you just have to find out who is compelled and who isn't."

"Tell me what your job is."

"Now, I'm the manager–"

"No. Tell me the truth about your business with the Originals. No more beating around the bush and being vague. I need to know what the hell I'm risking in helping you if they find out that I'm harboring the mercenary sent to mess with their family."

Andra sighed. "You really don't know, do you? Have they really been so good about keeping it a secret?"

"Know what?"

"Who is living with Klaus right now?"

"He and Rebekah. Would be them and Elijah but Davina doesn't want to give him back. I tried to move them but I couldn't. Davina wants to stay where she is."

"You're wrong. It's not just Klaus and Rebekah. There is a girl with them. A Crescent werewolf who encountered Klaus in Mystic Falls and became pregnant with his child. Don't ask me how but I bet it has something to do with that ritual he did to become a full hybrid. Maybe his fertility was restored. I don't know. But that baby... is going to be a tribrid. A werewolf because both its parents are... a vampire because of Klaus... and a witch because of his mother, Esther. The tribrid is the only thing that can defeat Malivore because he was created by those three creatures. He wants me to kill the baby. And I won't do it. I don't care if they're the worst people on this planet and if Klaus Mikaelson is an asshole, I won't kill a pregnant mother and even if this tribrid is just a fetus right now, I won't do it."

Marcel nodded slowly. "I understand. I wouldn't do it either. I was right. You're staying in this city because you need something. Eventually you'll need the tribrid's help to defeat your father. This is a lot to take in."

"Yeah, can't be an only child forever," she muttered. "Look, all I know is that Klaus wants this kid. Be it because he actually wants to be a dad or just because he wants power, I don't know and I really don't care. But you might. It could be why he's so intent on being king again. I know you and him think similarly in terms of needing to control everything. Maybe he thinks his kid won't be safe unless he controls the city. He's power-hungry and selfish but I think even a man like him would have a fierce desire to protect his own blood.

"Say what you will about Mikael but I came to understand he felt he needed to be strict to protect his kids, to make sure they wouldn't die like the two he lost. Not the way to go about it at all– no kid should ever be hurt that way and no parent should ever inflict pain in such a way– but he did what he knew how to do. Vikings are weird... that much I always knew. Losing that first daughter changed Mikael permanently. And I..." She bit her lip, "I don't want to know who Klaus Mikaelson would be if he loses this kid. Even if I could make myself kill it, knowing the pain I'd be causing him and Hayley is not something I can manage. Do with that information what you will. Now you know."

"Listen." He crouched next to her. "Thanks for telling me. I'm not going to let anything happen to you, okay? I'll respect any person who'd risk so much to protect an innocent. As long as you keep your word and don't hurt my guys, we can be allies. And... if Malivore tries to come and take you or that kid, I will fight with you. I won't let anyone here be forgotten. No matter what I feel for Klaus Mikaelson, I wouldn't hurt his kid or that wolf girl."

She turned to face him completely. "Want my advice? It won't be what you want to hear, so I'll give you a choice."

"Okay," he said slowly. "What is it?"

"Give him partial control. Let bygones be bygones. You can be mad all you want but if he knew about 1919 and what really went down, he'd be angry, too. I'm not one to preach that you should always respect your parents but that man did raise you and I know he still cares about you. You just need to let him remember it. He is trying to get you to confide in him, it's why he got rid of Thierry. Do the same to him. Give and get. Say enough so maybe he tells you some truths of his own. If he does tell you about his child, you tell him how you feel for Davina, how she is a daughter to you. Let there be common ground so he can try and empathize.

"Run the city with him. Don't let him be king but also don't stubbornly insist on holding the throne. You need to try and make this city whole, united. You won't get it if you're a tyrant, forcing your butt on that chair. Try to unite the wolves, vampires, and witches. Appease him in the sense of making the city strong, give him that security that when his child comes, it will be safe. If you love the city so much... you have to be willing to make sacrifices to keep it alive. This Alpha male brawl between you two will only get worse and you will end up destroying it. And destroying the people in it, perhaps even those near and dear to you.

"Those vampires are loyal to you and they will follow you to their deaths. Don't let it happen. Don't leave yourself with nothing. Don't lose friends because of a grudge. Work with him and soften him again. Not only will it help him be a better father but... it could help mend things between you two. You once loved one another very much. I followed him around for so long and I never heard of him caring for someone the way he cared for you. Think wisely, Marcel Gerard. You can't beat him, he's too strong. You risk major loss of life in this battle. The city would burn with you."

He got back to his feet, considering it. "You give good advice. Even if I don't like any of it."

"I know a thing or two about softening brutish men," said Andra quietly. "I've done it before."

He didn't heed her advice.

She heard soon after of a hybrid who had apparently kidnapped Hayley Marshall. Marcel had helped them find her. But the hybrid had returned to tell Marcel his discovery: Klaus's child could sire hybrids. And with Rebekah Mikaelson whispering in Marcel's ear, they tried to defeat Klaus in an ambush that, as expected, went very poorly.

"Not sure what you expected," said Andra when she let him into her apartment while she learned how to make carbonara. "Now Klaus runs the city and you look like a defeated child, forced to be loyal to him."

Marcel shook his head. "No. Me and the vampires will never be fully loyal to him. Loyalty can't be bought or owned or forced."

She shrugged. "I suppose that's right. My services are always bought but it doesn't mean I'm loyal to my employers because of it. Money is temporary, as is my patience. But now you have to live with your choice, now you have nothing. You reacted rashly to a reasonably worrisome revelation but you might have jumped the gun on assuming Klaus would exploit his child like that. Though I guess if Rebekah believed it... eh, maybe I'm being too generous. By the way, what's the deal with her? Isn't it a little weird to you that you and her had a thing?"

She watched him glare at her silently. "Not even slightly? Okay, forget I asked. Just remember one thing. That girl needs constant attention and love. I doubt she'd stand for you being more devoted to the city and your community than to her. And at the end of the day, she will never love you more than she loves her brother. She may be mad at him now but worst comes to worst, she will take his side." She coughed, and to Marcel, it sounded a whole lot like she said 'Stockholm Syndrome.'

"No advice, then?" said Marcel, sitting at the table.

"I'm the go-to for advice now?" she asked sweetly.

"I can't risk talking to my guys right now, Klaus will be watching me like a hawk. Besides, you know the Mikaelsons in ways they don't."

"Ah, you think I can help you undo this? No can do. What's done is done. You probably need to make it less obvious you're coming to see me now, lest he catch on. If you need me to say we're friends with benefits, all you gotta do is ask," she winked. "Not funny? You are so boring. Hey, here's an idea, introduce me to Klaus."

He scoffed. "What?"

"Get ahead of him. If he finds out you're hiding something, he'll be less inclined to trust you anytime soon. Introduce me to him, tell him I'm your secret weapon when it comes to getting information. He'll want me to work for him and I can give him the loyalty he craves, establish some rapport, and maybe when the time comes he and his family and the baby, when old enough, can help me defeat Malivore."

Marcel didn't like this idea. "Highest bidder, right? Or, in this case, the most powerful ally." He seemed almost betrayed, hurt, maybe both, or maybe just jealous and annoyed.

"Au contraire, Marcel Gerard," said Andra. "You have no faith in me. I'd still be helping you tons. Consider me a peace offering to Klaus. Sharing your resources, pretending you are cooperating. He will see that and the tension is more likely to fade away sooner. It could go a long way to getting him to trust you again. Besides, I really don't want to be caught hiding from him, it'll be worse for me. We have leverage over each other to keep this alliance intact, don't we? I do something wrong, you tell him that I helped Mikael find him since the 1700s and that I was sent here to kill his child. You do something wrong, I tell him what you and Rebekah did in 1919. If all is well, nothing we know will be said to anyone.Deal?"

He held out his hand, and she took it. "Deal."