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A dangerously dark circle aired over what is now Mystic Falls. The light had not shone through the town for three days, but that did not stop the townsfolk from questioning what had happened to the weather. What could be put off as a normal, almost yearly occurrence was nothing but that? No, as night became the day in the village there was no change to the temperature or sky, almost as if no time passed at all. Three days ago the villagers were sure that they had gone to sleep on a sunset, waiting for a sunrise in the morning. That sunrise never came.

The only difference between that night and this day was her, the great Laurel tree that rested at the edge of the ancient area. She tried to help the people but there was no way she could concentrate on two things at once. It would either be the creation of her daughter or the people seeing the sun. On that cold winter night, she made sure they had enough food, even told herself that if they came praying for her fruit she would give it to them. The great Laurel had made a deal with her own mother when she was but a seedling in the great galaxy and she would not fail the human population because of her own innate selfishness and desire to have a child of her own.

Daring attempts at this miracle child had been made over the many centuries of her life. Often put off due to her hatred for this selfish love for children and life, after millions of years, she would finally have the time to have her. The name, the place, the date. Love would be abundant in her home. No matter where her sweet child went she wanted to know that they would be loved wholeheartedly, without any conditions. This selfish act would create selfless love, and there came the true desire for this sweet exchange. She needed her baby to be with her just as she had with her mother, that of whom she could not remember. The Great Laurel does not plant many seeds, create many things, but to those who she graces with her presence, she shall show the greatest of joy and luck.

So came the bundle of joy, bright and glowing with her inherited energy. With eyes like crimson sparks and hair like boiling bronze, she wept for the first time, crying out for her mother. The little one came into this world with bare energy wrapped around her being, washing away the tears that streamed down her face. Her mother would have wept with joy if she had the ability to do so. She compensated by bringing her baby to a safe place inside her wide trunk, making sure that her newborn remained warmed and comfortable enough to stop her cries.

"Sweet child," her ethereal voice spoke to her. "Pandora, my love, you are safe here. There is nothing to fret, my darling child," the Great Laurel tamed her cries with her words, the newborn's head turning to the side. She cooed and giggled, her maturity not that of a human baby. Her mother did not wish to handle the sleepless nights of a true newborn. Pandora physically was around two months old, giggling and looking around happily now that she had been comforted by her mother. "It is nighttime, love, and time for you to sleep. I suppose you shall meet your first human tomorrow. They are fragile beings who worship my existence. You will bring them much joy, my Pandora, much joy indeed. As you have brought me tonight."

The newborn didn't understand a word of her mother's monologue, but the sound of her voice brought her tranquility. Her tiny fingers wrapped around a little plant that rested in the makeshift nest, gripping the stem chaotically while waving her hands around like a tyrant. She whisked the nature into her grasps and pushed it down next to her. The Great Laurel admired the strength her baby displayed, hoping it would protect her against any who would wish to harm her sweet child. Her mother chuckled as she felt her heart fill with motherly joy. Hope for the future came next. A great warrior she could become! Only if she let her get within three feet of a bow or sword. How unsafe.

"Rest is not a suggestion," she muttered to herself as Pandora screamed, attempting to get her mother to speak again. It was their only means of communication, making it craved. She understood her daughter's unruliness, she had been the same way at birth, but how she desired for Pandora to let her eyes close and drift off into pleasant sleep.

Unfortunately, Pandora refused to consider the prospects of slumber, staying awake for at least four and a half hours before dozing off to the sound of the meadow. During this time her mother made her daughter a bassinet and a window where she could finally see beyond the tender sights of her room. Made of softened vines and moss, the bassinet could easily be used up until the days in which she would learn how to walk on her two feet. She became giddy at the thought of her baby growing. While many would fret over such an adventure, the ancient tree saw it as just that, an adventure.

By daylight, footsteps crept along the meadow lines. Humans by the sound of their chattery mouths and childish whispers. A group of them, women, came every day to pay their respects to her. She enjoyed their company, especially when they brought their young children. Those babies that they could feed while praying for a good harvest or lessening disease in their villages. She wished she could speak with them, but the bond between nature and man could never be touched, no matter how close the two are.

One woman did stand out this time. She held a babe against her enlarged chest. The baby cried as they came closer, frustrating his mother. The tree had felt this stress and now understood her pain. Her child simply wouldn't stop crying, upset by some unknown force (or that was how their mother seemed to feel about the whole situation). Many other villagers attempted to help her, calm the squealing baby. Nothing helped and his (as she soon figured out through overhearing their conversation) meltdown persisted until his mother brought him before her trunk. At the base laid a few stones, which had been repurposed and promptly moved after the village women's last visit.

"All-Mother, we do not know what we have done wrong," a woman began, referencing the bleak sky above. Her braided hair dropped to her waist, much like her sister who stood beside her. She continued after bowing at the trunk of her body, "Please forgive us for our misdeeds, bring back the sun for our crops. The animals have not been outside, leaving us hungry for this week." The Laurel tree felt pained to hear such things. She knew that she needed to do something for the people now, as she had been preoccupied with the creation of her sweet Pandora before. "We thank you for your guidance, your wisdom, and your love. We beg you to hear our prayers. We have brought you blessed stones." She laid the sizable pebbles down on the ground. "We hope this can make up for our misdeeds."

There was no need for such things, the mystical tree knew, but the effort and rocks could be used as toys for Pandora, and there was the value in the gift. She wriggled her leaves to show that she accepted, leaving the village women in awe. This was when the blonde woman's baby calmed, happily looking up at the trees. The Great Laurel liked this one. He may have been fussy, but so had her daughter. Around the same age physically, his curls could be seen now, even at this young age. The eyes of a warrior and the soul of a devoted man, she could see him entirely. The future would bring greatness. She sighed, knowing who this woman's husband is. If only he could see the love in his eyes when he looked up at his father, begging for more attention and care. He would grow into a fierce man if he became neglected.

She gloated in the newfound sun, immortal leaves shaking to the ground to cool Pandora's room inside her trunk. It often became hot, which would lead her daughter to discomfort. The people would remain for a few more hours, sitting outside to have food. They often left before nightfall as to not be attacked by the wolves that lingered in the forests, ready to take their lives to feed their pups. During the summer this was not much of an issue, with the available deer able to quench their hunger. The Great Laurel thought about this pattern often and now thought about how it would affect Pandora. Would she be able to roam, or would she need to come home at a certain hour? She did not wish to control her daughter, knowing that it would lead to a rebellious (and dangerous) youth, but safety is necessary in this world.

Pandora wailed from inside the tree, raucous enough to signal the humans outside. The blonde woman's son started to sob into his mother's chest. She tried to bounce him once more, becoming stressed by his whining. Again, nothing would stop him from crying out. The Great Laurel didn't know whether to pity her or be worried for her child. As far as she knew she'd never lost a child, but many mothers in the village had come with a child one day and none the next. It was a horrible feeling her mother had told her many times about. She'd had a sister once, one that was lost in the cosmos never to be seen again. Too weak, too loud, anything could kill something so small and fragile.

The young mother looked into Pandora's room only to find her with a scrape on her face. She hissed at the sight. Her poor child with such a wound. She should have been more careful, kept her closer, made sure that she couldn't hurt herself on anything inside her little den. Within a second she had her scooped up and comforted by her mossy branches. Pandora giggled loudly, forgetting what she had gone through just minutes prior. Her mother sighed, knowing that her baby was safe within her arms. This sweet baby would not die on her watch. She would hang the moon for her if she could.

"There, there, my sweet Pandora," she excited another high-pitched giggle out of the child with her low voice. She hoped that the humans could not hear her. It wasn't like they could understand the language of the cosmos, be able to decipher her common tongue. Her secrets would stay hidden for as long as possible, but she hopes that the humans keep her as a superstitious object instead of a true deity. She would not be rejoiced in like Mars or Odin. She wished for no statues or sacrifices in front of her. Simple rounded stones would do for gifts. The Great Laurel flinched as one of the women peered inside of her large trunk. The window she made for comfort now became a way to see into her. This village woman could see Pandora clearly wrapped around in blankets, giggling happily as her mother tried to play with her.

"Is that a child?" The woman asked as she finally got a good view of the baby girl. "Ayana, there is a child in the tree." The older witch looked over at the woman as her son stopped crying. "Who left this child inside? Does she belong to the Great Laurel?"

"We shall not disturb her," Ayana warned, feeling the tree begin to shake the ground. This was her child! She would not stand for any visitors before she was ready. "Esther, if the child is being cared for we have no reason to be meddling. They are not yours to watch for." Despite Ayana's warning, Esther took Pandora out of the trunk, now able to see her glowing form entirely. Ayana gasped at the sight of her figure. Glowing a light yellow with molten orange hair falling from the top of her head. Far more than what a human child would have at her age, she knew. "Esther, I have warned you before that to disturb any spirits is to face their wrath! The Laurel's daughter is not for human or witch hands to touch. The Great Laurel will turn on us and help us no longer if you keep this business up."

Only when the sky began to darken did Esther let the child back into her room. Ayana scowled at her friend, who had upset the young mother to this extent. The dark-skinned woman did not remember the tree having a child but as a witch, she had to respect this creature's right to raise her child without human or witch contact. So many years ago she would have thought otherwise, but after seeing what happens when magical beings are threatened she has learned better. The Great Laurel had this child for a reason. What the reason was, she had no right to know. She would remain in the dark and be respectful as her ancestors taught her.

This bit of understanding rattled the other women in the group. Esther had been the only one to bring her baby, with fear that Mikael would not understand why he continued to cry and be cruel to him like he had been with Elijah when he was young. The other women left their babies with their mothers and their husbands to come today with fear in their hearts. Never before had they experienced dark days this early. It had almost left them starving. One woman peeked at the child when Esther held her. None of the other villagers were witches, but they knew of the power the Great Laurel held. Whether or not she would be able to have a child of her own was now understood. The women of the village who had seen her could tell the baby in Esther's arms (other than her own son, who had decided to fall asleep instead of cry) was the Great Laurel's. Her bright skin, mythical hair, and ethereal eyes explained it all.

"I've never seen something like her before," Esther whispered. Ayana patted her on the shoulder before looking back at the frightened village women.

"Neither have I, but we must remember our place," she reminded her student. "We are to recognize the power that comes but never act on it. It is not within our rights as witches to question the parentage or methods of nature. Our power relies on nature's cooperation."

"I'll do better, Ayana," Esther said as a promise, Ayana knew, but Esther confirmed it, "I promise." "Good."

---

Five years passed with ease of heart and mind. Pandora had grown at the rate of a normal human girl. Her hair now stayed beyond her waist, almost down to her knees. It flowed from her head like a waterfall, getting everywhere no matter what she did. It took her mother hours to get her prepared to go outside with it. She was always ready for an event, looking like a young goddess rather than a child next to a village. Her mother did teach her the human tongue, although she often struggled to find the right words to describe things. The young girl's sentences were short and to the point, coming off as blunt more often than not. Her mother didn't mind this about her daughter, just happy to have her healthy and safe within her tree. She didn't know what she would do once she outgrew the space. In only a few years she would need more room for her increasing size.

Her feet pattered along the edge of the tree as her mother started brushing her hair for the day. The night before she allowed her to roam to the pond right beside her trunk to wash herself, making her hair easier to brush through. Although her sensitive scalp often leads her to cry, this time she managed to hold in her tears long enough to survive the worst of the knots. "You're doing wonderfully, my sweet," her mother comforted. Over the years it became easier to empathize with her child. Although the Great Laurel had no hair of her own she hated to see her baby in pain. The worst she'd gone through is when one of the village boys decided it would be fun to make a cut at the base of her trunk. Pain is not something she's used to, but she understood it well enough to attempt to make her daughter's experience with her hair better.

"Mother," Pandora whispered just loud enough for her mother to hear, "may I go to the village today?"

It's the question she knew would come someday. The village. Pandora met with the village women and sometimes even the men when they would ask her mother for a good hunt, but she'd never been to the village itself. Her mother did her best to not let her out of her sight for more than a few minutes, knowing how rowdy she got out on her own. The villagers... she didn't know if they would treat her daughter with respect. Then came the walk back to the village that could prove dangerous without a guide and experience with the forest. The Great Laurel would not be able to guide her daughter down that path even if she wanted to, her communication only reaching so far. With her magic, she could try, but even that had limits.

"Why do you wish to visit the humans, my dear?" She diverted like she often did, but it gave her more time and a chance to understand her daughter's thinking. There was no doubt that she has more sense than the human children she vaguely resembles, but there's room for improvement. "I am sure they would be happy to bring their children over here if you asked them to. Amongst the women you are popular."

"Are you worried about me?" Pandora asked. "I know you worry about me over here. Sometimes I just get lonely being the only child here. There's a boy that's really nice. I met him a few times. I think his name was Niklaus. I miss him, but he said his father doesn't like him coming to see me. I don't think he believes I'm real. His wife is the yellow-haired woman." The Great Laurel laughed. Her daughter still hadn't learned the word for that shade of hair. The other villagers either had grey, dark brown, or black hair. "He was really nice to me when he came the last time. He brought some colors and we painted. Do you remember that? I'm sure you were watching him. You always watch the village boys as they play with me."

"Is that it? You want a friend?" Pandora nodded quickly but stopped as her mother caught a particularly terrible knot with her branch-brush. Her squeal made her wish that she didn't have hair to comb through, no matter how beautiful it may be. "I have every right to worry over you, sweet Pandora. While your judgment is better than that of a human's you are still a youngling. You have not reached your sixth cycle yet! How young you are in physical age. You could be taken advantage of." She felt her daughter tense. It was the endless debate of whether or not Pandora was weak because of how small she is. "I'm not calling you weak, my sweet, just vulnerable to the elders in the village that I have not seen in many cycles. I would hate for you to have a bad experience in the village and never want to see a human again."

"I won't hate them all, mother. That would be unfair." She smiled as she felt the brush go smoothly through her long hair, the sign that her mother was finished. "I just want a friend. All the other children have friends. I can also practice my human tongue!"

Her mother was often reminded of her daughter's silver tongue. She wondered who could possibly match it in nature. She sighed, knowing that even if she was young and everything else she deserved to have contact with the humans. No matter what she wanted, it was not her place to cling onto her baby. She would be leaving the nest sooner if she did. If she wanted her to come back when she's older and wiser she would allow her a life beyond the meadow, beyond the trees and lights here. "We will still have boundaries we will not cross and things we won't do, understand? I am trusting you with this but that does not mean I cannot call you home at any time if I believe something is wrong."

"Rules?" You should be used to them, her mother wanted to say but held her tongue. "Fine, what are the rules?"

"No running, you could run into someone. Stay with this boy or one of the village women at all times. Never go into the forests without an adult. Do not allow the men of the village to comment about your hair or skin. Do not allow anyone to show you any disrespect. If someone dares disrespect you or I make sure that I know when you come back." Pandora nodded, understanding her mother's requests. "Also, make sure that the skirts I make you don't get dirty by those children. It takes many hours to complete them when I have to create fine silk from my magic. If it is one of the children please tell their mothers, they will make sure they don't do it again. They will know how hard it is to make your clothing all from scratch and with no help."

Nothing more was said between them.

---

The sky was clear as Pandora made her way into the village. She dressed herself in only the finest of dresses her mother spun for her. Her smiling debut shocked some of the women who were waiting for their husbands to come home with fresh meat and berries. Pandora did her best to dull the shine in her hair so as to not worry the villagers too much, but it was no use. Her hair would be staying bright like a shining star. Her skin, however, was made to look like a human girl's would. The Great Laurel had insisted on such to help her blend into the community and not cause too many disturbances. Disturbances were unstoppable though. This came to light as she walked through the village and felt people's eyes on her, scared of or admiring her molten brass hair.

As the young girl found her way to the edge of the town she saw Niklaus with his mother. The boy turned his head and waved at her happily before tugging at his mother's skirts to get her to turn around. Esther sighed annoyedly, increasingly annoyed with her son's actions that day. First he almost ate poison berries and then he picked a fight with his older brother. However all these thoughts of what happened in the morning dropped as she saw the inhuman girl she picked up in her arms five years prior. She'd seen her again, but she'd been shielded with branches the entire time. She didn't know what she was doing here. Esther sighed again and waved to the girl, assuming that she was here in passing.

"Niklaus!" She called out to him before walking over to where he stood with his mother. Esther tried to conceal her discontent but failed, a frown appearing as she was faced with the young girl. "Mother finally let me come to the village! It's so big! Which part is yours?"

Esther pulled her son away from Pandora as she tried to give him a friendly hug. This confused the young girl. Was she not supposed to show affection towards new friends? Mother said that humans hug each other when they are friendly, so why won't this woman let her do that? She's seen her hug her son, so why? "Move so I can hug him, please? I want to hug him," Pandora tried to say as politely as she could in human tongue. Unfortunately her words were a bit too strong for Esther, who scoffed at her up-front nature.

"You have no right to hug my son, child," Esther snapped at the girl. Unfortunately for her, Pandora was not accustomed to such an attitude. Her mother always phrased things kindly and with no aggression behind her words. This was taken as an affront, pure disrespect. She would do right by her mother and be respected (at least to some degree) by the entire town. She would be damned if she allowed this yellow-haired woman to tell her what she had a right to do. It wasn't like she had a reason to go off of. Niklaus seemed happy to hug her and had been coming in closer to do so. The only thing in her way was this mean woman.

"Disrespectful, mean lady," she said slowly, almost patronizingly. "Move or I'll tell my mother about you."

Now that was a threat worth the effort it took to give in human tongue. Esther took a step back, now understanding the power she held. This was the girl the village women decided was the daughter of the Great Laurel? How in Esther's eyes she had grown into a haughty little girl with no respect for her elders. She thought herself so high! High enough to threaten a witch like herself. If she didn't know that Ayana would ruin her for it she would have used her magic on this unruly child, shown her that she is not to be threatened. She couldn't have been older than her son! Niklaus at least knew how to respect the other women in the village and was a helpful hand once and a while. She was nothing but a tyrant now, using the influence her mother had to her own advantage. Esther couldn't admit it to herself now, but she hated this child. Hated her with a fiery passion.

But she moved. She had to. What else was there to do? If she didn't she would be faced with another lecture from Ayana and perhaps doom for their village. She would be an outcast if anyone found out about her refusing the daughter of the Great Laurel. Esther hated this. Even Mikael would not be able to stand by her side, his pride for their status outweighing his love for her.

Finally, Niklaus was able to hug his friend, much to his relief. He knew what his mother was like when she became upset. It wasn't anywhere near as terrible as when his father would decide to bring out his belt or simply strike him with his hand (open or closed). Pandora felt safe to be around, unlike some of the village boys who would tease him relentlessly about his (currently) smaller stature and lack of interest in hunting. She shared the same interests in the arts and even helped him pick out colors to paint with. Never before had he been able to do such a thing with anyone but his mother, who didn't have much time for him due to his siblings anyways. He knew she tried, but he craved a friend in his community, one not of his kin.

"I missed seeing you," he whispered. Niklaus didn't want his father to come here and see him with a girl, or see him expressing any sort of emotion around one. "What have you been doing?"

She paused for a second, figuring out the words to say what she wanted to. "The same." Nik nodded and pulled away for a second, hearing footsteps coming from behind his house. Pandora looked around only to find Mikael with a scowl on his face and a belt in his hand. Esther pushed both the children behind her. The little girl hadn't seen a belt before, the clothes she wore perfectly fitting and magically put on by her mother. She pointed at Mikael and asked, "Who is he?"

Esther shook her head at Niklaus but he answered despite her futile warning, "My father."

Mikael shows no mercy in his punishment. Whatever it was that his wife and son did, it was good enough for his belt in his eyes. Although he stopped dead in his tracks when he got a glimpse of the young girl's bright red hair. Glowing. Preposterous! Mikael, after a moment's pause, took another step forward, this time inquisitively. Alas, what he saw was true. In front of him was a little girl around his son's age with hair not much unlike the volcanic lava he'd been to with his father in his youth. Despite her slim figure he felt the magic pour from her. No matter if he was human, witch, or wolf, he felt her entirely. Her magic showed no remorse in proving who mattered in this world. His pride became strained, almost broken as he saw her next to his useless son. The weak one, the one who cried senselessly as a baby. The one he could barely believe was his next to a girl with magical hair.

"What is this?" Mikael almost sputtered out, not knowing what else to say in his defense. He could not whip a child that was not his, let alone a child with insurmountable power. Her magic screamed at him to stay back, to not harm her or... his son. Like she had any say in his parenting skills. Gods know that little rat needed sense beaten into him in whatever way possible. He would never learn, he thought, but all he could do is try. No child would disgrace his name. "Get out of the way so I can deal with my son, child. You are not the one who needs punishment."

Pandora couldn't understand the look on his face. Her face remained pensive, yet flame-like bursts of energy drew around her tiny frame. The debate was stupid, she recognized that, but her intuition told her that allowing Niklaus Mikaelson to be near his father would end up being what she regretted most, hence why her stance held firm. Dots spotted the young girl's vision as she pulled up a few roots around Mikael, a trick she'd learned months before, and dug them around his feet, rendering him stiff and tangled in their mess.

Myths and legends didn't compare to her. The older Viking figured this out soon enough, his attempts to break free from this unknown magic weak; futile. "Stop this at once!" He demanded, sticking his pointer finger at Pandora. "You whining child! How dare you stop me from disciplining my own child!"

But all that came from her tiny lips was a merciless laugh that echoed across the landscape. "Stupid man," she muttered just loud enough for him to hear. Not understanding the meaning of the adjective, Pandora looked back over at her friend with joy in her bright green eyes.

The boy, not exactly knowing what was to come next, let out an awkward laugh before putting his hand in Pandora's much smaller one. "Do you want to see the painting I made yesterday?"

A thousand years passed by and they can't remember how it started, only how it ended.

---