Legacies:The Malivore Legacy.

Hope Mikaelson’s POV I had spent most of my life being told that I was dangerous. It wasn't exactly news. My name is Hope Andrea Mikaelson, and in the supernatural world, a name like mine came with a history people preferred to whisper about rather than discuss openly. My father was Klaus Mikaelson. My mother was Hayley Marshall. My family was complicated enough to fill several lifetimes. Considering some of my relatives had actually lived for centuries, that wasn't much of an exaggeration. So, when people looked at me, they didn't always see a girl. They saw a legacy. A vampire. A werewolf. A witch. A Mikaelson. A threat. The funny thing was, I had never asked to be any of those things. I hadn't chosen my bloodline, my abilities, or the history that followed my family wherever we went. I had simply been born. And somehow, that had been enough to make my life complicated. People had a habit of deciding who I was before I ever opened my mouth. Some were afraid of what I could become. Others seemed convinced that I would eventually turn into the worst parts of my family, as though my future had already been written before I had a chance to live it. I couldn't blame everyone for being cautious. My family wasn't exactly known for leaving a peaceful legacy behind. My father, in particular, had done enough to earn the fear and hatred of countless people. His reputation had followed me into rooms I'd never entered and conversations I'd never been part of. There were people who would never give me a chance simply because of the blood running through my veins. Still, there was a difference between understanding someone's history and expecting them to repeat it. I wished more people understood that. I wasn't my father. I wasn't my mother. And I wasn't obligated to become the worst version of anyone who had come before me. At least, that was what I kept telling myself. The Salvatore School was supposed to make things easier. It was a school for supernatural children—witches, vampires, and werewolves who needed somewhere they could learn what they were before the outside world taught them to fear it. At least, that was the idea. From the outside, it looked almost ordinary. Almost. The old building stood behind iron gates, surrounded by trees and enough history to make the place feel older than it actually was. Its grounds were wide enough for students to gather without constantly bumping into one another, and the building had the sort of atmosphere that made you think of ancient secrets and expensive repairs. Students crossed the grounds carrying books, arguing with friends, sneaking around when they weren't supposed to, and pretending their biggest problems were exams and relationships. They weren't. At this school, a bad day could mean accidentally setting your classroom on fire. Or turning into a wolf at the wrong time. Or waking up with someone else's blood on your hands. Normal was relative. I had never been particularly interested in being normal anyway. After everything I had experienced, ordinary sounded less like a dream and more like something other people were lucky enough to take for granted. Still, even I appreciated the moments when the school felt almost peaceful. Almost. I walked through the courtyard with my hands tucked into my pockets, ignoring the looks that followed me. I had grown used to them over the years, although that didn't mean I enjoyed being stared at. Some people looked because they knew who I was. Others looked because they had heard stories. And then there were those who probably had no idea why everyone else seemed so interested in me. I preferred that last group. There was something comforting about being judged by people who didn't know the whole story. At least their opinions weren't built entirely on the reputation of a family they had never met. I wasn't interested in explaining myself to every curious student who crossed my path. If people wanted to believe I was dangerous, I wasn't going to spend my entire life convincing them otherwise. They could make up their own minds. Besides, I had more important things to worry about than strangers' opinions. Keeping my temper under control, for instance. Making sure nobody discovered just how much I hated being alone. And trying not to think too hard about how easily my life could change if I lost control of the power inside me. That last one was especially important. People liked to talk about power as though it were something wonderful. They imagined the freedom of being stronger, faster, or more capable than everyone else. They rarely considered the responsibility that came with it. Power wasn't always an advantage. Sometimes, it was simply another way to hurt someone. Across the courtyard, Lizzie Saltzman was arguing with someone. Probably Josie. Probably about something Lizzie believed was extremely important. The twins were different in almost every way, but somehow, they were inseparable. They could disagree about practically anything, yet neither seemed capable of staying out of the other's business for long. Lizzie noticed me first. Her expression changed immediately. "Hope." I stopped and looked at her. "What?" She gave me that look. The one that meant she had already decided something was wrong, even though I hadn't said or done anything to justify the accusation. "You're doing it again." I glanced down at myself, then back at her. "Doing what?" "That thing where you look like you're planning someone's murder." I looked around the courtyard as if searching for evidence of the crime she was accusing me of preparing. "I'm literally standing here." "Exactly." Josie appeared beside her, looking considerably less amused. "Leave her alone, Lizzie." "I'm trying to help." "You usually make things worse." "I prefer the term memorable." I couldn't help the small smile that escaped me. Lizzie had a talent for making even an ordinary conversation feel like an argument she was determined to win. Josie, meanwhile, often seemed to spend half her time trying to keep her sister from turning every situation into a performance. Watching them together was strangely comforting. They had their problems, of course. Everyone did. But there was something about the way they moved around each other, anticipating reactions and finishing arguments that had barely begun, that made their relationship seem almost unbreakable. I envied that sometimes. Not the arguing. Definitely not the arguing. The certainty. Knowing that no matter how complicated things became, there was someone who had been part of your life for so long that losing them seemed impossible. I had people who cared about me. I knew that. But being a Mikaelson meant that love often came with fear, and fear had a way of making everything complicated. Sometimes, it was easier to keep people at a distance than to risk discovering how much it would hurt when they left. That was the problem with this place. Sometimes, it made me forget. Forget that my family had enemies. Forget that monsters were real. Forget that there were people out there who would happily use me to hurt my father, my friends, or anyone else I cared about. For a few minutes, I could almost pretend I was just another student dealing with the usual frustrations of school life. Someone who could walk through a courtyard without wondering whether the next person she encountered wanted something from her. Someone who could make friends without worrying about what might happen when those friends learned everything about her. Someone who could simply exist. Almost. Then I saw him. Landon Kirby. He was standing near the entrance with Rafael. I'd seen Landon before, of course, but there was something about him that had always bothered me. It wasn't that I thought he was dangerous. It was that I couldn't figure him out. And I hated things I couldn't figure out. There was always something unsettling about a question without an answer. I preferred knowing where I stood, even when the truth was unpleasant. At least then I could decide what to do with it. Landon, however, seemed to leave me with more questions than answers. He wasn't the sort of person who immediately demanded attention. He didn't carry himself like someone who expected the world to make room for him. If anything, he seemed more comfortable standing just outside the center of things, watching rather than participating. Yet there was something about him that caught my attention. Maybe it was the way he looked at the school, as though he wasn't entirely sure he belonged there. Maybe it was the feeling that there was more to him than he was willing to show. Or maybe I was simply curious. Whatever the reason, I found myself watching him longer than I intended. Rafael noticed me first. His expression hardened. Landon followed his gaze, and our eyes met. For a second, neither of us moved. I couldn't tell what he was thinking. His expression offered little help, and before I could make anything of the moment, he looked away. Interesting. I started walking toward them. Rafael immediately stepped between us. "Hope." I stopped in front of him. "Rafael." His jaw tightened. Whatever he thought I was about to do, he clearly didn't want me doing it. "You don't need to get involved." I raised an eyebrow. "That's usually what people say right before something becomes my problem." "It's not your problem." I looked past him at Landon. "Then why are you acting like it is?" For a moment, neither of them answered. Landon shifted uncomfortably, looking as though he would rather be anywhere else. "I think we should go." Rafael nodded. They started walking away, leaving me standing in the courtyard. I watched them disappear through the doors. Something was wrong. I just didn't know what. And that was usually how these things began. A strange feeling. A secret. Someone lying. Someone running. Then everything falling apart. I'd seen the pattern enough times to recognize the beginning of trouble, even when I couldn't yet identify its source. The sensible thing would have been to let it go. Rafael had made it clear that he didn't want me involved, and Landon hadn't exactly invited me into his life. I could have returned to whatever I had been doing before I saw them. I could have minded my own business. I should have learned by then that when my instincts told me something was wrong, I should listen. Instead, I followed. Because curiosity had always been one of my worst qualities. And because, whether I wanted to admit it or not, I had a feeling Landon Kirby was about to become very important to my life. I just didn't know how much. Not yet. But I would. Soon enough, everyone at the Salvatore School would learn the same lesson I had spent my entire life learning. When you're a Mikaelson, trouble doesn't have to find you. Sometimes... you find it first.