The first thing Maeve did was eye the worn out looking building carefully. Her eyes were set precariously on the creepers that covered a particular crest built into a stone pillar, made out of silver──at least that is what she could makeout.

It had been two days since she left Mystic Falls. Twenty-four hours since she moved to New Orleans. Twelve hours since she officially settled into a massive piece of infrastructure called The Abbatoir. Maeve liked the quaint Victorian design of the building.

She settled in the far end room on the first floor immersed in her own world for the better part of her first day while living the life drowned in half a bottle of bourbon at night.

The music, the art, the hippy lifestyle was an appeal Maeve hated for not having been a part of before. If only that lasted for more than a night.

Maeve stepped outside of the bar Rousseau's heaving deep breaths that night. Diego followed behind her puzzled by her sudden change of mood.

"Hey hey hey. Dora?" asked Diego placing a hand on her back and gently rubbing up and down.

"Yeah yeah, I'm fine...it's just...the waitress."

"The one that ran off the second she saw Marcel?" Diego reconfirmed. Maeve shook her head dismissing him,

"She didn't run seeing Marcel──at least not completely. She's the──" Maeve took in a few breaths before she continued on, "she is the one witch that got away that day."

That was all that she needed to say for Diego to understand completely what Maeve meant. He straightened his back and gestured at the man who stood by the door to call for Marcel.

Diego whispered into Marcel's ear the situation. Marcel looked into Maeve's saddened eyes before he took two long steps closing the distance between them.

"Well then, it's a good thing I plan to punish her anyway."

That night was the first time Maeve saw Niklaus Mikaelson, since the day she left Mystic Falls the first time around. She saw the shocked gaze, the startled appearance and could only draw blanks.

If only Maeve would have kept it to that. She kept thinking deeply about everything. The appearance of Klaus into the city──far away from what she knew was Klaus's plan, his look of shock and curiosity in seeing Marcel the way he had been...always, according to Maeve.

She strolled around the city for a good time before she found herself──once again, being a witness to another squabble. Maeve stood in the far corner watching the two fight.

"I will not let go. I will never let go." she heard him say. If only she could believe those words.

"You are a mad man." the other one reiterated arrogantly before adding in a raised voice, "are you going to just keep staring like a thief or plan to show your face anytime soon?"

Maeve sighed to herself and stepped into view for the two Mikaelson brothers to see her. "Hello originals. Playing the opposite of nice as always I see." she took a jib at the two of them.

"What are you doing here in the city?" asked Klaus.

"I could ask you the same thing."

"Personal matter."

"Personal matter."

"It can't be."

"Why not? Just like you, I have a personal life too."

"I can assure you my situation is nothing like yours."

"And that is..."

Klaus smiled wickedly, "tell me yours first."

"Finding a way to protect my pack."

"New Orleans?"

"What? It's got its share of discretionary powers." Maeve crossed her arms and glared at him.

"What are you doing here?"

Klaus looked at her and then back at his brother. "Let's speak somewhere else, some other time. I have an errand to run." He sped out of the place leaving Maeve and Elijah in the silence of the night.

"Hello Maeve." she scoffed and gave him a deadly glare,

"Shove it assbutt." she cursed at him and stormed off. Elijah sighed in defeat──it wasn't something he didn't already anticipate from her.

Months. Three months to be precise. Maeve spent the entirety of summer building an unlikely alliance with two of the most formidable packs in the world. It was safe to say, both the packs opened their arms wide for Kalon's. Neither of the three parties involved had to make any uncomfortable adjustments but rather be even more solicited than ever.

Maeve's name echoed through every pack in the world and songs of her praise struck like daggers into the hearts of Amberskey, Vittori, Santorini and Zucco, as well as every other pack in the world.

All of that led to that particular night. Months of meetings, unnecessary socialising and innumerable drinks had brought Maeve to a pivotal juncture in her plan.

She ran her fingers over the waist of her dress, looking nervously at the dress she wore for the night. A tight long gown that cascaded down with a puffed skirt from the waist. The deep neckline showed the prominent collarbones and the tattoo underneath the left one. A burning red feather and freckles of flame floating away.

It was the one she got the day she entered New Orleans. A triumphant memory of a past she was slowly becoming indifferent toward. She glanced into the mirror one last time.

"I'm sorry mum." she mumbled incoherently. "I hope you both are proud of who I've become."

She exited her room fixing her masquerade Mask on her face. The mask had fake red jewels on them. The black of her mask complimented the pastel blue gradient dress she chose to wear.

Gentle blue light and orchestral music graced the night. She stepped outside and into the hallway, her eyes were looking around the compound, trying to locate some familar face in the masks. Maeve gently ascended the stairs-hoping she wouldn't fall.

Many of the attendants eyed Maeve as she gently arrived, offering her warm smiles──although there is a chance they might have been originating from the sheer amount of intimidation she had to herself after making quite a few historic overturns in a matter of three months.

Maeve took notice of the finer things around: Lycan's from Bloodcrest and her own pack had situated themselves into a couped up corner drinking from a bottle someone smuggled in undoubtedly just to feel the kick of the alcohol. Lastly she noticed Maverick doing a few parlor tricks with his magic, keeping the guests-especially the humans entertained and amused.

It would be a fool's play to say that Maeve did not miss her magical powers. It would be a disillusioned notion to believe that the sole purpose behind the strife and constant work had been solely for the benefit of the pack and not without a selfish motif. There was one. Maeve hated that she was no longer the very thing she prided over for a long time.

Work became her labyrinth to run away from those moments of regret. Maeve smiled wide when she saw it was Onyx. Onyx was the latest in line Alpha of Bloodcrest. The ruggardly handsome man towering at a good 6' height with built muscles, had the eyes of every woman and a few men set upon him.

He approached Maeve with a soft smile-absolutely opposite of his reputation. "En chante Mademoiselle."

"Guten Abend, Herr Onyx." both greeted each other with a smile. Onyx brought her hand up to his lips and kissed the back.

"You look stunning."

"Only an attempt to woo some more, I assure you." She winked at him suggestively before she giggled at her own joke.

Onyx drew his lower lip between his teeth, his eyes never straying away from her red lips. "And here I thought you dressed up for me." he pressed his hand to his chest, right above the heart but his lips were slowly turning upward into a smile.

Maeve looked away from him hiding the smile she had as wide as ever. She cleared her throat and began, "are you sure he'll come?"

"Please I've observed him and his kind of men all my life. I know he will be here."

Maeve creased her brows, "I still feel like he wouldn't show up."

"How about this-" began Onyx. He glanced around to see if anyone was listening in and leaned closer to Maeve, "if he shows up, you have to go on a date with me, and if he does not, I do what you say."

Maeve's eyes twinkled at the challenge and the price. "I'm not going on a date with you."

"It's a wager, Maeve, non-negotiable."

"Fine. I accept." She put forth her hand. Onyx laughed lightly and took her hand and shook her hands.

"So is this the infamous abode of the Vampire king?" Onyx said, his eyes roved around the place.

"Yep. A charity ball and we are here plotting."

"Stop doing exactly that, if you want to not stand out for very different reasons than right now."

Maeve hung her head low hiding her guilty smile. "until I win..." began Onyx,

"We don't know that yet."

"Until I win—" Onyx raised a finger to stop Maeve from speaking more..."until then, may we dance?"

"I don't see no fault." Onyx held his hand up for Maeve to take.

"Actually you'd want to wait for a little while." interrupted Marcel appearing from behind Maeve. "Guess who just walked in?"

"Fiasco? Tell me it's not Fiasco."

"It's Fiasco." said Onyx. "and you have to do what I want you to do."

"Fine. The dining room?" she asked Marcel. Onyx and Maeve excused themselves from the crowd and went to have that particular conversation or meeting that they had been wanting to have for an entire week.

"First step to a business deal of a lifetime here we come!" Maeve grinned like a child clasping her hands together to show her excitement.

"Alright now, calm down. Keep it together."

The meeting was to start the slow dance of destruction. Onyx guided Maeve inside the room. Maeve smiled spreading open her arms to greet him who stood inside with a silver flask in hand.

"Bartholomew." the strong built man gave her a devilish smile, hidden behind his bushy beard.

"Maeve Kalon." his hoarse voice felt like spikes entering through her ears and into her bloodstream. "The young prodigy of Kade Kalon. I must say this was a long time coming."

"Yes it was. Please have a seat."

Bartholomew nodded and turned to Onyx as he pulled a chair out to settle in. "Onyx you are a mystery man. Months spies from every pack in Asia and Europe has been in search of you."

"The mysterious, the man is—if you ask me...the more fascinated the women are." Onyx winked at Maeve who only rolled her eyes.

"I think it only adds to the appeal of a one night thing." said Maeve and sat across from him at the table. "What do you say, Bartholomew?"

"Please call me Barth or Barty. Bartholomew is for my enemies." he said. "But yes, I think I agree. One night is all it will bring."

"That is enough for a starter pack."

"Aren't you just the right amount of pig."

Onyx laughed. He leaned ahead on the table and pulled the tray of the alcohol jar closer. "I think the term suitable is wolf."

Maeve forced a smile before talking back, "Dogs."

Marcel lingered around in the compound, before standing restlessly by the drinks table. He kept looking at the closed door of the dining area attempting to listen.

"You seem invested in what's behind that door." someone commented taking Marcel's attention away from it. "What is behind it?"

Marcel laughed and turned around. "You jealous, Rebekah?"

"So it is someone."

"Yes, actually." said Marcel, surprising Rebekah. "She's someone very dear to me." before they could speak more, Marcel's attention went to the dining room door that slid open.

"Excuse me." he rushed over to the door leaving Rebekah wondering what happened.

She made her way to her brother who stood aside, eyeing every single person in the room. "How is Marcel doing?" asked Klaus.

"For now checking up on a mystery woman he cares a lot about."

"Mystery woman? Isn't Camille your──" Rebekah cut him off immediately,

"Not as much as her. Something tells me this new woman means more to him."

Klaus turned to look at his sister, "who is she? Did you see her?"

Rebekah opened her mouth to answer him no, when someone caught her eyes. "Maeve?" she questioningly said out loud.

"What?"

"Look." Rebekah pointed. "There's Maeve." both were now staring at the middle of the compound, where they stood, hand in hand, dancing and laughing.

"How does Maeve know Marcel?" asked Rebekah as she turned to look at Klaus with a confrontational look.

"How would I know?"

"Please...you are better friends with her than any of us. Obviously you know."

"This time. I don't. I mean, I did meet her once, in the city, when we first learnt about you know what but I thought she was visiting."

"Clearly she isn't."

Oblivious to this, Maeve and Marcel danced merrily, both ecstatic with how the night turned out. Marcel swayed to the beat, guiding Maeve with each firm foot of his. "I can't believe it happened." Maeve said to Marcel, in between the music. 

"I can't either. Onyx said you were one hell of a charmer there." Maeve blushed immediately hiding her face from Marcel.

"I did speak a bit off putting."

"Whatever you did has given us more power now than ever." Marcel twirled her around once and brought her close to him, "Pops is so proud of you now."

"I hope so, it was his idea that I handle Europe."

"By the way, why did I hear Onyx giggle like a school boy and tell me he would be asking you out soon?"

Maeve cheeks turned red from blush hearing Marcel confess, "Oh...I thought he wouldn't show up so we placed a bet that if he did, I would go on a date with him."

"Lovely...Maeve is going out on a date." Maeve slapped Marcel's chest. "okay ow. But come on, the guy's was like a puppy chasing after a squeaky toy."

"Quit it...I am not going on a date with him."

"Why not? God, please don't tell me it is because of Elijah." Maeve dragged Marcel to a corner of the compound.

"It is not. Marcel, there is far too much going on to thing about dating."

"Its just one night. You both work together and thing about it, Maeve."

"She needs to think about what?" asked a voice joining them. Florence had approached them with two glasses of champagne in her hands.

"I was just telling Ms. Aromantic here, she should go out with Onyx. The guy is smitten with her and I can finally get rid of the bee buzzing in my ear constantly talking about Maeve."

"Wait...Alpha Onyx? The tall yummy man who's been basically your shadow for three months?" Florence cleared with Marcel before looking back at Maeve. "Climb him like jungle gym."

Maeve slapped Florence on the arm making her spill some of the champagne. "Who is that helping?" She asked.

"I am not dating Onyx. That is final. Now, it looks like Diego has something for you, Marcel." said Maeve before she turned around and left. Maeve strolled around the compound, nursing a new glass of champagne. 

"This is a surprise." a British voice said from behind her. Maeve smiled to herself as she turned around. 

"Hi Nikky!" greeted Maeve and went in for a hug. Klaus placed his hands on Maeve's shoulders and pulled her back slightly. 

"You have some explaining to do. What are you doing here?"

"What no hello's or how are yous? Directly just what are you doin?"

"Answer me, Maeve." her eyes scanned his face suspiciously. 

"What have you done?" she asked, glaring at the original. 

Klaus hesitated. "Who is Marcel to you?" he asked. 

"Old friend. The guy who told me about you guys." Maeve looked around the place as she spoke, trying to locate Marcel. She felt suddenly nervous. Her eyes landed on the floor above.

"Breakfast tomorrow?" she asked him suddenly, her eyes never straying away from watching Marcel's movements on the floor above. Maeve took notice of the anger. She didn't wait for his response and bunched up her dress to hassle across the room and up the stairs. 

Marcel's voice, tinged with frustration, cut through the tense air, "Damn it T, how long have we been friends, huh? Seventy years?" Thierry stood there, head bowed, the moment pressing down on him. "I turned you into a vampire," Marcel continued, his eyes locked on Thierry. "I gave you a gift."

Thierry finally raised his head, his expression a mix of regret and loyalty. "And I have been loyal to you all this time, and I still am. I'm still your friend, Marcel. I swear that hasn't changed."

Marcel's piercing gaze bore into Thierry. Desperate to ease the situation, Maeve stepped in, her voice unwavering, "Of course, Thierry, you wouldn't do something without reason."

Thierry's eyes met Maeve's with a glimmer of gratitude. He then turned back to Marcel, his loyalty never in question, "You believe me, right? Maeve?"

Marcel's anger seemed to simmer for a moment, his trust in Maeve's judgment unwavering. "Of course, Thierry," Maeve affirmed, her voice carrying the weight of their years of friendship. "You wouldn't do something to jeopardize our trust."

Just then, another vampire approached the trio, a hint of urgency in his eyes. He handed an envelope to Marcel, whose suspicions were now thoroughly piqued.

Marcel swiftly opened it and revealed its contents—a piece of parchment with a witch's spell inscribed upon it.

Marcel showed it to Maeve, who scanned the contents with furrowed brows, her expression filled with skepticism."Still my friends, huh?"

Marcel's voice was laced with a mix of anger and betrayal. "Because it seems your witch friend got her hands on a spell that I keep locked away."

Thierry shook his head, his voice quaking with the weight of Marcel's accusations, "Marcel, I have never seen that."

Marcel, however, was unwilling to let this slide. His voice dripped with righteous anger, "Shut up. You still have the daylight ring that I gave you, so why would you need the spell to make a new one unless maybe you and Katie were gonna go off and start a little Kingdom of your own."

"Marcel, no!" Thierry's voice quivered with a mixture of fear and despair. Marcel wasn't about to back down. He turned away, his hands gripping the balcony railing as he looked down at the crowd, seeking a moment of composure.

Maeve, unwilling to let this rift destroy the bonds they'd shared, reached out, her voice calm and reasoning, "Marcel, if you could just reason and think rationally for a minute."

Marcel, however, was too consumed by anger. He turned to face Thierry, his decision clear, "For the crime of murdering one of his own, I sentence Thierry Vanchure to 100 years in the garden."

Maeve, struggling to reconcile the Marcel she knew with this harsh verdict, took a step towards them, "Marcel, this is not the solution. We can work this out." Marcel's eyes blazed with determination as he responded, "What's to reason, Maeve? He killed one of my own, he gave Katie a spell that I keep secured so no one can get their hands on it. Stay out of this."

Maeve watched as Thierry was led away, a heavy sense of despair settling in her chest. This was not the Marcel she'd known, and it left her profoundly unsettled. She stormed towards the door, her intent to follow them, but was stopped in her tracks by the imposing figure of Klaus.

He placed a hand on her shoulder, his voice low and filled with a warning, "Maeve, it's best to stay out of this for now."

Maeve reluctantly nodded, knowing already that Klaus and Marcel were bashing their heads together and the city was going to burn in the sparkles of that flame.