The Author of Riddle

The Riddles of The Alexanders (The Invitation FF)

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Summary:

"What if Lucy Billington didn't find the courage in herself to attack Viktoria Klopstock? What if Viktoria Klopstock killed Evelyn Jackson on her wedding day? What if Walter De Ville never died but lost the last hope he had from Alexanders?

What if another Alexander Girl popped up? Born out of a man who was sentenced to life in prison wrongfully after going behind his family's beliefs. Born out of a woman who killed dozens of people for her wicked magic. Would she be the third bride or would she share the same fate as Evelyn Jackson?"

The Riddle of The Merciless (Legacies FF)

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"After moving to the states from England, running away from the streets where she had been abandoned, 13-year-old Tavia Riddle had thought she had the chance of being a child. Not as the daughter of the serial killer. Not as the troubled girl from the streets. Not as the orphan left to die.

She had a family. A home. A chance. A blank page.

Then it was taken from her.

Even after a few years, Tavia had not truly settled into the Salvatore School.

She had a dorm, a "safe place" for herself, a closet she could hide herself in and not be bothered. But she had never thought of it as "home"; it was never going to be home. She was never going to have a home. She was born without a home of her own, and she would die without one.

The double standard still bothered her; the fact that she had to keep up appearances, reputation and grades for her dorm while Hope Mikaelson kept hers just for the money her dad donated, while the Saltzman twins kept theirs for their heritage alone, while Allysa Chang out of everyone kept hers for being an orphan, it bothered her, but she didn't speak up about it.

She didn't speak up about anything with anyone. She had Roselyn; she was fine with that alone. She didn't feel the need to be in the spotlight; she could just watch from the sidelines. She didn't like the spotlight; she hated the sound, the fame, the reputation it gave her. So she stayed in the non-annoying side, the silent side, the dark side where no one could notice her, the side where she could gather information without a bother from anyone else.

There were a few others, trying to do the same. Hope "Marshall" was one until two weeks ago when she revealed herself to the school. Tavia had guessed something was up; she had figured out Marshall was related to the Mikaelsons, but the idea of her being the allegedly dead daughter of Klaus Mikaelson had been too far-fetched for her to believe was a possibility. She had thought she was a cousin, a niece, a daughter, something of Hayley Marshall, and that was her connection with Freya Mikaelson, who visited Hope regularly.

She had figured the truth out once the Henry stuff started. It had gotten too obvious for her to think it was only a far-stretched theory. Yet, she still watched from the sidelines. She wasn't surprised when the mere mention of Henry didn't come back to the four walls of the Salvatore School. Of course, the "downfall" of Mikaelsons, if one could call it that, had ripped everyone's attention away from the once werewolf.

Tavia's hadn't. She hadn't gone out of her way to find out what happened to the boy, but she could easily guess he was with his pack back in New Orleans.

She had enjoyed watching the following two weeks of Hope Marshall getting revealed. The chaos it had brought upon the school as people started to avoid Hope Mikaelson, now not because she was a Marshall witch with nothing extraordinary but for the fact that they still thought the wrath of Klaus Mikaelson would come upon them if they dared to say a wrong word.

Tavia simply didn't care. And Hope was seemingly bothered by the others. Tavia wasn't surprised, it was obvious what the tribrid had always wanted was a place where she could be just a teenager and no more, a place where she wouldn't be alienated. That place wasn't the Salvatore School anymore, Tavia had known that the moment she had been sure of the tribrid. Even when there was the threat of Mikaelson wrath, there were people who didn't step back on their ways. Tavia could see it in a majority of people but especially in the Saltzman Twins, one of whom could only stay silent about it for a single week.

Tavia didn't step away from the darkness. She wouldn't as long as she could stay in there, as long as the wellness of the school wasn't at jeopardy.

She kept watching from the sidelines when the new werewolf came. Everything Lizzie Saltzman had gathered about Rafael Waithe, Tavia had gathered earlier and then more. A cheeky little charmed earring "dropped" on the headmaster's room was her salvation when it came to the new kids. Truth was, she didn't care so much about most of them, but when there was the slightest chance of one of them being interesting to her, she dared not miss any of them.

Rafael Waithe was not one of them.

She found no interest in him until he found interest in her. Or rather, in her powers.

Usually, new students looked at her in amazement, thinking they could charm her - not that Tavia was surprised, she was no fool, she knew she was attractive, and the fact that she was open to sleeping around without a stable relationship made boys approach her. Later on, after having learned of her heritage, of her mother, they all looked at her with pity. Then the Saltzman twins did their thing with rumours and made them hate her or fear her. The burned children's home in London was a classic, but Tavia preferred the siren from the waves who ate the men she slept with. Privileged, they were, Tavia had realised from early on, they thought it was for pleasure, not having realised she had been doing this since she was a child for a reason.

But this one newbie had approached her, not with amazement, not with pity, not with fear, but with determination in his eyes. It pried Tavia off her book.

"I know we have just met," The same line everyone used before complimenting her, "But I want to ask a favour from you. The others said that you were a witch." That was not the line everyone used.

"Maybe, why?"

"I'm pretty sure my brother, Landon, is trapped somewhere. Can you get him off, like to the outside - there is a party going on, I don't know if you-"

"I know." Tavia cut the boy, "Why would I do it?"

The werewolf fumbled around, clear ly not having thought of something, "I- um, I would owe you one."

Tavia hummed unsurely, knowing the boy wouldn't pay his debt. She hadn't tried such a thing before, though, and it sounded... amusing in a way.

"Please," The Waithe begged.

"Fine," The book Tavia was reading got shut closed as she pushed herself onto her feet, "Don't say I didn't warn you if he comes up bruised though."

The second he reopened his mouth other than to thank, however, he had proved to her that accepting the deal was a mistake. He was tuned out for Tavia, but the sound of his voice, even as a background noise, was too annoying for Tavia to keep her calm as cold as it was.

She wondered for a moment why he hadn't gone to anyone else, going for the girl who sat on the library whilst a party was on with other witches who could do the deed without a fuss. Then her eyes met with the old mill and she realised why: the others were too drunk to cast a spell and he didn't want his brother hurt.

Tavia had to give it to him, at least he was loyal, so she gave it a bit more care than she would have given it, making sure this "Landon" guy wouldn't get seriously hurt. It didn't help she didn't know where he was but she figured out the spell pretty quickly.

She was half amused, half prideful about it once the brunette showed up on his feet, almost tripping over the absence of the force pushing him. Her focus delved into the itchiness on her arm as the two hugged and greeted each other.

"Thank you."

She only gave a brief hum before turning away.

"Are you not joining the party?"

Tavia came to a halt at the werewolf's voice as a laugh tore out. A full-on barked laugh at the idea of her joining a party, and the party not dying down. "You obviously have not heard enough about me. I should have figured once you asked for my help."

"It can't be that bad." The other boy had spoken up, "You're pretty - pretty cool, I think."

"Am I?" The question came from amusement at his stupidity and naivety toward a pretty face. "Ask around and find out about the big bad Tavia Riddle."

She had her own party alone in her dorm the other night. 3 bottles down had gone, as she reconsidered her choice to help the werewolf after his brother had been kicked out.

"Getting soft," Roselyn had called it. She had called it being strategic. She might not need a favour now, but the werewolf had agreed to doing what she wanted him to do. Of course, something big, she would get ratted out but she was good enough to make him think it was a small thing.

She had just taken her first swing of the fourth bottle when Hope Mikaelson barged into her room. "I need your help." The tribrid had beaten her to the first word.

"No, get out of my room." She had turned it down like she usually turned down favours. Her desire was in her book and her bed, and whatever Hope wanted to be done, Tavia would rather the girl do her own. She didn't need the help.

The door closed. Mikaelson didn't get out.

"The stuff with Landon is my fault." Tavia wanted to gouge her eyes out. "I can fix it, I know how to track him, but it involves black magic."

"Go find someone else, I am not putting my health at risk." Her eyes hadn't left the novel, but they stopped paying attention as she skimmed through.

"Says the girl who got him out of the cellar."

A hiss came from Tavia's teeth as her head tilted to the side while her hand put the book down. "Now that is a highly dangerous thing to say, Mikaelson."

"Why? You aren't going to hurt me. Even if you did, whatever you did wouldn't affect my reputation."

"Oh, right," Tavia chuckled, "The queen of the wolves. The alpha of the cresents." Hope was seemingly bothered by how much the witch had seemed to know. Despite the tribrid having gone clean, it was only a few weeks since, and some still thought the Mikaelson was Marshall. The witch simply knew too much for two weeks. "Just so you know, having your mother's maiden name when she's using it even now, it's not a good cover."

"Better than using the name a killer gave you." The Miakelson had to throw the first thing that came to her mind. Not only did it feel bad throwing it to the girl's face, but it also was the only thing the tribrid knew of the girl.

Tavia laughed at the bite. She'd never think Hope Andrea Mikaelson's bite would be worse than her bark. "I'm not covering, wolfie. I had accepted that I would always be the devil's demon spawn long before I set foot on this continent."

"That's exactly why I need your help."

The conversation had officially been steered back to where Tavia didn't want to be.

"And, don't you want to practise? You must be boiling with dark magic. How hard has it been keeping it under your flesh? Wouldn't you want it-"

"If I say yes, will you leave me alone?" Tavia's boredom with this conversation and the tribrid had gone through the roof.

Not long after was it that the tribrid had gotten her aunt's grimmoire. Tavia was crackling with magic and neither the existence of the grimmoire nor the alcohol in her system was helping with her will.

She took a last swing before sitting down the floor as Hope Mikaelson brought a box.

Tavia didn't miss the flicker that came over the Miakelson once she snapped the rat's neck. She gave no comment regardless.

Turns out, Hope Mikaelson was right, Tavia needed to let that black magic go, and the dark spells of Freya Mikaelson was more than enough.

She felt dizzy afterwards, but she didn't know if it were for the alcohol or the spell.

"Saw anything that I didn't see?" The tribrid asked as she was packing up.

"I saw the 28th route, near the city line." Tavia answered, throwing herself on her bed as exhaustion wrapped around her like an old friend.

At least she could get a good night's sleep was her thoughts as she heard the Mikaelson leave her be. She wanted to believe it would be a peaceful day.

Her peace lasted until she was woken up by Mr Williams, for a counselling session with Emma. She had thought it was Hope Mikaelson who had ratted her out. It was the stupid beacon Emma had set when Tavia had a rage attack because of the black magic tumbling out of her, supported by her grief two months after Mr and Mrs Anderson died. No one remembered it except for the adults and Tavia herself, of course.

"Why don't we table this until you actually find a way for me to exist without black magic eating me inside out?" That was the last decision they had made when Tavia last had passed out in her dorm because of how much black magic had gathered in her body. That was also when Tavia had realised Alaric had her watched via a locator spell.

"You have a point. What I want to know with whom you let out all that black magic out." With how Emma asked the question, Tavia knew Emma knew Hope too had used black magic.

"You know my relationship with the student body." Tavia answered, pointing out the fact that she had no friends except for the one in England. "Do you really think I can find anyone who would help me with this without calling me the devil's spawn?

"Octavia," Emma started her usual speech about Tavia calling herself demon spawn.

"Emma," Tavia cut in, sick of the woman acting like that wasn't what everyone called her all the time. "Tell me how many times did Lizzie Saltzman came here and talked about how I am nothing but a pretty faced bitch?" Emma only responded with the notebook. "Oh, there comes the beloved notebook again."

Tavia hated it not only because was it disrespectful and unsafe, seeing as student files along with Emma's notes were kept next to Dr Saltzman's bourbon, but also because Dr Saltzman always read through them and talked with Tavia about every single word of it. That was why she liked talking with her actual therapist where no one but him could read about her messed up life.

Emma closed the notebook after writing whatever she wrote.

"I saw you with Rafael the other day," She began another topic.

"He asked for a favour." Tavia shrugged, she wouldn't admit to getting Landon out of the cellar and having done a favour to the new guy wasn't all that weird.

"I know you were the one who got Landon out." The confession came from Emma who knew Tavia wouldn't confess it otherwise. "Did you perhaps felt something in him as you searched for him in the school grounds?"

The question threw Tavia off. She hadn't felt anything but a human nature in the boy, the specs of magic that surrounded him was of werewolf nature which was from Rafael or she guessed it as. "No, not really. Why?" Now that she pondered over it, she had felt the tint of something darker that day, not necessarily a dormant werewolf curse but something leaning more to a vampire, but it was so little she had just deemed it as the magic Hope Mikaelson had left behind after a visit for whatever reason. After all, she seemed hurt by his lie and there was literally no one else in the school with that dark of magic to leave behind. Who else could have visited him except for Hope Mikaelson?

"We believe he might be a dormant werewolf just as Rafael." Emma had picked those words off of a script, Tavia saw it. If pushed enough, she might crack and tell her of the reasoning, so Tavia decided to push.

"What for? Did something happen for you to think that?"

"Not really, just wanted to make sure. You can forget about it, Tavia." Emma didn't break but made a mistake in her wording. She called Tavia by her new name instead of her dead name. She did that only when she wanted her to believe a lie. It was a stunt Tavia had picked up the week she had shortened her name. Yet she didn't push on it.

Tavia was planning on getting her breakfast then running from cafeteria to eat it in her dorm in peace. Rafael had ended those plans. He had approached her twice more than people usually looked towards her now. And both times he had asked for a favour. He was starting to get on her nerves.

"That's another favour. A bigger one." Tavia answered at his demand of her casting a locator spell.

"Anything." The werewolf had begged. The stare that Tavia sent behind her mask of steel was one of confusion, not only at how loyal the two were while being in the foster system -although, she had to accept she would do the same and more for Rose as Rose would for her- but also for how courageous he was. Of course there was always the chance of them having not asked around.

Thankfully, there was literally no one in the library at that hour except for Tavia and Rafael.

"I need something of his if you want exact location." Tavia told the werewolf as she took out a map of the state line.

"I don't have anything though." To Rafael's admission, Tavia had to stop herself from rolling her eyes.

"Then suck with having the general area. Give me your hand."

The werewolf was obviously hesitant at that as his eyes travelled down to the blade on the witch's hand.

"If I were to kill you, I'd have this stuck at your throat, not your wrist." She was getting more cranky at every second he was changing her daily routine, and his hesitation didn't help his cause. "Give me your hand."

At last, Tavia was about to actually stab it in the werewolf's throat for he kept breaking her focus. She was able to find a general area of where Landon was, thanks to how close the two were, but she was out the door the moment the spell was cast.

Done with favours, she swore to herself. Two on a werewolf and one on the Mikaelson in three days had drained her. It honestly would be better for her if she skipped today.

That too lasted until she was interrupted by Penelope Park. What was it with people ruining her day these days, she had no idea but it was close that somebody was about to die from it.

"I need you at the match today."

"I'd much rather down fentanyl like there's no tomorrow." Tavia rejected the offer.

"Want a supplier?" The witch asked, getting out a brick of money.

Tavia had to bend, even if it were a little bit, at how much the girl had in her hands. She was sure it was more than what she used to see in a month, she couldn't just reject it with no thought. "Depends on what you want me to do."

"Oh nothing, just stand at the bleachers, enjoy the view," Park was dragging out each syllable like they owed her something. Tavia was no fool to think that was all. "Sabotage the other team." There it was.

What was up with people getting attracted to her magic the past three days, Tavia wanted to know so desperately. "Park, you are a witch yourself. Why do you need my help?"

"I have my own plans to follow and seeing as though I can't cast whilst under the watch of the Saltzmans..." The Park Witch answered sliding Tavia a piece of paper.

Chuckles tore Tavia the moment she read the spell. "Incendia." She casted, firing the piece into flames.

"Fine. At least be there as backup." The idea of the girl being attracted to her came to Tavia's mind at how annoyingly demanding she was of Tavia's presence there.

"Fine." With the confirmation, the Park witch tried to move past the Riddle. The push Riddle gave her that sent her back to the wall was enough to stop her. "I take payment in advance."

Tavia didn't like being so close to both of the Saltzman Twins, let alone be in such a front in the spotlight. And, if that wasn't enough, the yellow of the jersey made her look even sicker than she normally looked, which drew even more attention to herself. But 1500 was 1500.

She was surprised really, seeing how little people actually cared about her, or even saw her. Despite keeping to the shadows on her own will, she had felt like there was always someone behind her. Maybe she was wrong. Maybe, this day could be peaceful.

"What the actual hell?" And that was the end of her peace. It was of course none other than Lizzie Saltzman who first had seen her. "Was hell too boring for you that you decided to show up?"

"No need to get your panties in a twist, I have no interest of joining. Only here for the game of money." Tavia told the girl, already done with this match thing.

It took Lizzie a moment to realise the game of money meant Penelope Park had given her money for this. "Devil's advocate then, great."

"Prefer the spawn," Tavia mumbled although it went unnoticed.

"What's in it for you, huh?" The questionnaire had turned to Penelope Park, "Or are you just looking for someone to hook up with seeing as you're so lonely."

"More like a distraction, really."

Tavia really wanted to know what she could do to distract literally anyone, let alone the other team. Seeing as though she had relationship with zero of them, knew zero of their names, and would dip out when there were so many adults to rat her out.

"For you? That suits you." It was Josie who had decided to fire at her ex, now.

And that brought enough distraction between the exes for Tavia to slip out of the drama and the school. The least she could do was have half an hour od peacefully sketching before the bombardment of toxic masculinity and high school drama.

Tavia was really struggling to understand what her purpose was in this. To her, it seemed her absence and presence had no difference. She wouldn't complain, 1500 was 1500 after all, but she was trying to understand the motive behind it. Park didn't seem to be a girl who did things for no reason.

She even thought maybe the girl was pulling one on Josie but if that was the case, it was failing.

What she had realised, which everyone somehow seemed to miss because of the game, was some creep staring from the trees. And it wasn't like he was watching the game, he had his eyes pinned on someone. When Tavia trailed it, her eyes met with the bottle blondie from the other team. She just knew something was wrong.

When Tavia looked back, the man had turned to her. What had chilled her was the fact that he was staring at her in amazement. Not in a creepy, lustful way but more like she was not something he had expected to see, like she was a long lost mystery.

It made her stomach churn with disgust.

"Why the hell is that creep staring at you?" She hadn't realised when Hawkins had come back to the bleachers. "Do you know him?"

"No," Tavia answered, unable to keep her eyes away from him more than a second. Something didn't feel right.

It was the hand on her arm that snapped her away from it. "Where the hell are you going?" Her eyes landed on Hawkins's hand once she stared down to see who had stopped her, then realised she had taken a few steps towards the guy. "You do not go towards a creep staring at you."

"I have literal magic powers." Tavia reminded the vampire.

"And that guy could be a witch hunter." Hawkins reminded the witch. "Just go back to the school. Whatever Park got you into is not worth getting kidnapped."

Tavia hadn't realised how sorry she was going to be once she stepped out of the eye view of the people.

As if she hadn't been scared to begin with, she just kept hearing footsteps behind her. She really tried to gaslight herself into believing they were footsteps of Hawkins, or Park, or Saltzman, just someone else who wanted to scare her. But seeing as each time she glanced back with her hand mirror she couldn't see a thing, she knew it was that creep.

How grateful she was to have worn her jewellery.

Her steps got faster. The steps behind her got faster.

"Octavia?"

She didn't know the voice, Tavia had to repeat to herself, for the familiarity of it rubbed salt to a wound too deep.

That was before she was stopped.

I don't know him, she repeated to herself as she faced the familiar man. She knew she had seen him before, but what did it matter when she couldn't recall?

"Don't you remember me?" The man almost sounded offended. She didn't, Tavia told herself once again. "Abel, Sargas's friend."

The wound was reopened, Tavia felt it and the pain of it left her straightened and on guard. She did remember him, no matter how much she wished she didn't. How could she have forgotten him? How could she have forgotten Sargas, of all that she had tried to burry in her past, he was always the one person that kept bouncing up to the surface.

And Abel... "Sorry, it has been... a minute." Abel didn't know what had happened with her and Sargas. It was written on him the moment she wasn't kicked in the ribs.

"You make me feel old." Despite her unwilling chuckle, the joke wasn't completely wrong, even when taken literally. "You have grown so much. How- how long has it been? 2 - 3 years?"

"Something like that." Tavia mumbled tucking her hair behind her ear. Suddenly, she was more aware of how much the jersey showed."It was nice seeing you, Abel, but I need to get back to my school. Before someone realises I have been gone for too long." It wasn't him staring her down at the match, Tavia knew such. It was neither like him nor looked like him.

"Just tell them you saw an old friend. Who cares?" Tavia knew she could throw that lie, she could carry it, she had carried it countless times. But someone seeing her with Abel could spread rumours. She didn't want those kind of rumours. Those would force her to step into the spotlight. "Come on, I saw a place at the town square. We can have some drinks, for old times' sake."

"I can't go to the grill," Taking the easy way out, Tavia refused the offer. "The sheriff goes there on the regular, he sees me and I am good as dead."

"And bring down Sargas with you, right." He repeated, looking around as if he would see another place. Tavia looked away, now having noticed her hand had been striking her forearm whilst the conversation. "Did you say grill? The place I saw was this Mystic Tap, or something."

"Oh." That slip up was enough for Abel to know she could go there, but she just chose not to. Not with him.

"Come on, Octavia, you know me." The plea that Tavia expected to be an ultimatum made her halt and consider if he knew what had happened and just acted like he didn't. "We even slept together. We can't just not have a drink or two, not after seeing each other. Is it the money you're so focused on? It's on me, promise."

"I- I just can't, Abel, I-" It was making her want to throw up, just being in this situation, having to think about him and Sargas while trying to get rid of a creep at the same time. But Abel was better than most, wasn't he? And maybe the creep would give up after seeing she was with another man. But the rumours it might bring up... The winning team would definitely get to the Mystic Tap, but how long would it take for that? Could she get out soon enough? "I don't think I could get back to the school with, y'know."

"I'll drop you off if that's your problem." Abel chuckled.

Tavia knew exactly how that would look, and wasn't ready to have that conversation with Emma and Alaric.

"I mean sneak you in, Octavia. I am not dumb." A chuckle past Tavia's lips, but it was so forced that she wondered how she could have done such thing. But Abel didn't react well to rejections...

"Y'know what, fine. But uh, half an hour, at most." The look that Abel gave her told her everything she needed to know about his opinion on that. "The students of the school might barge in and I can't-"

"-have people think you and I are together. Got it." It was hotter than Tavia ever felt her face burn before. His chuckle still reached her ears.

Tavia was on edge. Every second spent with him she was on edge. She couldn't help it. She couldn't. It was too hurtful of a reminder for her to act like it was all behind while he was a at her front. It hurt too much. She was only happy that she could take the emotionless facade.

He ordered. She stayed silent, and grateful for the waiter made no comment about her past visits.

"Sargas didn't tell me you two broke up." Abel started the conversation. Tavia felt her heart drop to her stomach, dread and despair filling her for she had not said that either. "He is not the type to do long distance."

"I couldn't say no to Andersons - my adoptive parents." That was the first time she had brought them up since... if I look back, I am lost.

"Did you ever contact Sargas again? I heard he was hurt, he would appreciate it."

Hurt was an understatement, considering how he had acted once he found out she had left England, what he had done, what he had gotten in return.

"No, I have..." She had to think quick, find an answer that wouldn't reveal anything, "been under supervision. My school is strict about contacting anyone outside the school."

"Speaking of school - how did you get into a school for rich kids?" Abel asked, his words getting cut as the waiter appeared, letting her have a bit more of time to think.

"The headmaster is... keen on history. He knew my last name and my mother, he asked me to." Tavia knew she was bending it towards a dangerous path. Abel knew of her mother, just as any of Sargas's friends but that fact was the main reason why she had been with Sargas. Because he could rat her out and have her arrested, because he knew the devil's spawn was the thief Octavia Riddle and he had evidence of it.

"Well, that was fortunate for you." He remarked but Tavia could see the way he was forcing his face to stay up. Her going to a school for the rich, which meant the school would be guarded, would only bring him and his crew a disadvantage at contacting her. "How has it been? Your new school? It must be nice, being surrounded by rich kids."

Yeah, how nice had it been for Tavia, she was expected to open up her whole body when offered 5 bucks and trashed by whoever pleased. Yet if she said that, he would offer that she ran and came back to England with him. So she lied. "It has been great," And in a moment, the girl who used to lie every day to customers had come up once again. How much Tavia had missed it, even if it was fake, the enthusiasm, the happiness, the hope. It sounded like an old friend coming out of her throat now. "My friends have been great. Not many care about who my birth mother is. My parents and I are close - they have been real helpful about moving to another continent."

"That must be harsh, having to change your entire trajectory. I could never. No idea how you do it." Abel chuckled, having noticed how tense the girl was earlier, happy that Tavia was letting her guard off.

Truth was Tavia was still choosing her words, lying as if she was in a story that was someone else's life. "You get used to it after some time. Friends help a lot throughout."

"That's what Sargas used to tell me, trying to convince me to stay here." Abel chuckled, reaching for his glass. "But you know me-"

"Octavia?"

Tavia didn't know if she was to be relieved or panicked about the counsellor showing up. Not because of the beer filled glass in front of her, but because of the fact that she was with someone outside of the school - something against the school policy. "Miss Tig? I- I didn't expect to see you here."

"Neither did I, with alcohol, and an older acquaintance, nonetheless." Tavia was sure she felt her whole face turn bright red at that as the counsellor's eyes ran over Abel.

"Oh, ma'am, that's- that's not at all what this is, Octavia and I are foster siblings." Thankfully, mostly thanks to the fact that Abel used to cover up after Sargas, he was able to string up a story good enough where Tavia wouldn't get punished. After all, Emma was all about family, friendship and connections when it came to Tavia, surely she wouldn't punish her for meeting with her foster brother. "I was visiting Virginia and heard she was in Mystic Falls so I decided to drop by."

"Oh," Emma's face softened as the exclamation ran from her mouth. Tavia was delighted that Emma had bought it but she was still red as she could get from the fact that the counsellor had thought that she was dating Abel. "Well, come back to the school safely - and you know the policy about outsiders getting in so Dorian will wait by the gates for you."

Tavia only nodded her head, smiling as she didn't trust her voice at the moment, nor did she until Emma got out of the bar completely. Only then did she breathe a sigh of relief as Abel's chuckles reached her ears. "You should have seen your face, god." He mocked as he took a swig of his beer.

Tavia Riddle was not a girl who looked on the greater side of things once an opportunity came her way. At first glance of the idea, moving to America seemed like a death sentence; not only for her paranoia against Americans after the incident, but also having to lose the more personal attachment to her only friend after moving out.

However, once she actually moved into the house her adoptive parents had in Virginia, she got better feelings about her decision. It was so different from England - yes, Andersons were no riches, but they seemed to have a better life in America when compared to England. It was a surprise to Tavia as she expected a similar flat rather than a house.

She liked it, maybe even more than England if she were to be honest with herself.

But it didn't feel... home. It felt like a stranger. Tavia hated strangers. 

She didn't know why, but she hated the house. She hated America. It was unreasonable and uncalled for, but she hated being here.

Maybe it was for being away from Roselyn. Yes, that had to be it; she hated it because she couldn't reach Rose.

But she could reach her still. Yes, maybe not in a literal way, but she could still call her, check on her. She still had her friend. So why didn't it feel right, she had no idea.

She couldn't keep it in her mind as the knock on her door caught her attention. 

"I wanted to check up, you seemed rather disturbed on the plane." Her stepmother mother was at the door, implying there was something bothering her.

Tavia didn't want to tiptoe around her. Tavia didn't want to tiptoe around the new family she had found. She wanted this to be her home. 

I had a home.

She didn't want to lie to her, but she knew that saying it was just her anorexia would end up in Emma getting worried or worse, getting her a psych. "It must have been the tension of the plane. Or maybe about going to a completely other continent - I'm fine, really."

Emma actually seemed relieved as she breathed out, a soft smile appearing on her face. "I know you must be dying to get your stuff out," Tavia scoffed at that. She was far from getting her stuff out, and everyone in the house knew that. "But if you want, Charles and I are planning to order in. Do you want something too?"

"Oh, no, I'll just... eat whatever you guys don't." Tavia shrugged it off. She wasn't hungry anyway; she had eaten before they had left England.

Emma hummed knowingly. She didn't need to say it out loud for the fact to be seen. "If you want help with setting your room, Charles is downstairs, ok, love?"

"Of course, Mrs Anderson." Tavia brushed it off. She had handled the streets; surely a few pieces of furniture wouldn't beat her over.

Emma seemed to want to say something about her usage of formal titles, but kept it to herself. Tavia knew her stepmother wanted her to feel like she had a real family, that she didn't need to be afraid of getting thrown out, that she could have a connection with them. 

But Tavia couldn't get herself to call a woman as lovely as Emma a title that she had given so many bad implications in her mind. She didn't want to call her mom; she couldn't call her mom when her real mother was a monster. She couldn't give an innocent woman the burden of being in the same basket as a psychopath. That was cruel.

And Emma was... too personal. It sounded too friendly for using it on someone who was to be her mom. She could pretend in gatherings and whatnot, but actually calling her mom...

Her body cringed at the idea as she tried to drown the thoughts in her mind by focusing on her room.

... 

She had a room. Of her own.

It still felt like a dream.

Or a nightmare.

She was going back to drowning her thoughts if they were going to betray her like this.

Tavia would say she had gotten settled pretty well in a day. She had gotten the hang of the furniture in an hour or two, and the rest had been easy.

Of course, she still had to be herself and be the most indecisive person on the planet. Sometimes she wondered how she was an artist with how much backtracking she made with every decision. Now was the same. 

She had thought of using magic to rearrange her room however she liked, but she didn't want to get caught - Emma and Charles didn't know of the supernatural after all, and they seemed to be Christian, they might throw her out if they had learned. She couldn't afford that in America.

So after her 4th rearranging, she was starting to get tired.

She gave up midway through her 5th and just started to lie on the floor, her lungs aching as she cursed at herself. That was when Charles had seen her through the open door. 

Thankfully, he had, otherwise she would never have gotten out of it, she was sure.

"You sure you don't need help?" He had repeated his question from an hour ago.

Tavia wanted to say yes and that she would handle it, but her pride wasn't as big as her defeat against the furniture. "I will not hear of this ever again." She conditioned anyway.

Charles had laughed as he entered her room, holding her hands to help her get up. "You go downstairs and eat something with your mom. I will handle the mess; you clearly have overworked yourself."

"No, I haven't." Tavia still denied it. A hum escaped Charles's throat, but he covered it as a cough. "I have... uh, overestimated my endurance against the force of furtinures."

Charles couldn't cover his chuckle at her response. "Downstairs you go, come on." He dragged her away, lightly patting her shoulder.

"Wait, can you leave a bit of space so I can have my easel on the corner? Away from the bed." She asked as she fought back against his force.

"I know, little artist has to have her easel somewhere." Charles chuckled.

"And it'd be better if the desk is next to the wardrobe - actually no, the bookshelf-"

"Tavia!" Charles cut in, understanding why it took her this long now. It was amusing how indecisive she was. "Downstairs! Now!"

"But- I-"

"Down-stairs." Charles pressed on, dragging her out of the room.

Tavia had to accept her defeat.

She was hopeful about this. About what her life was going to be. Just helping her parents around the house, going to school, then home, having time for art, for being a normal teenager, for falling in love... it made Tavia feel warm. She was happy that she could start from scratch, in a place where no one knew who she was.

It was welcoming, more than England had ever been. Of course, she would always love London, and if she could, she would go back in an instant, but America was like a dream.

It had been just a week, but she had started to look on the brighter side of things. She didn't know if it was for America or her parents, but she loved to be here.

The jet lag was showing up, though. Her already ruined sleep schedule had gotten worse. 

Just like her, Charles and Emma were affected; she had seen that much, but they seemed to be handling it better than she was. Save for the occasional tiredness on their faces, they weren't ever so bothered.

Tavia, on the other hand, was about to knock herself out with pills. She was trying to distract herself from drifting to sleep in the morning -not that it had worked in the last week- with paint, school hunting, diaries (she found out she hated it), and everything she could think of.

Paint worked the best as it forced her to think and focus. As long as her attention didn't drift-

"Tavia, there's someone who wants to talk with you."

She jumped to her feet at Charles. "What?" The question ran as a whisper once she thought of what her dad had said. Who would even want to see her? Surely he couldn't have...

"He says he's the principal of some private school. Did you apply for a scholarship or something? He says they accepted you."

Tavia's heart fell into her stomach. If anyone was interested in her, it was either for her heritage or her being a witch. Charles and Emma didn't know she was a witch. They didn't know of the supernatural at all.

"No, I didn't, I don't- may I?" She asked, sliding beside him to get downstairs. She needed to talk to this man alone.

"Ah, I'm assuming this is Octavia." The man she supposed Charles meant spoke up as she went downstairs.

"It's Tavia." Emma corrected the man. "And I have to ask you to leave us alone for a moment, I would like to speak with my daughter."

Tavia knew then that Emma knew, that he had slipped something, and she had realised what it meant. Still, she followed her stepmother to a separate room as the man and the little girl he had brought with him, who could only be a few years older than her, if not at all, stayed in the living room.

"Do you want to talk with him?" Emma asked once the door closed, however, instead of an interrogation. "If you don't want to, I can talk to him and tell you what he says instead."

"What?" Tavia hadn't expected her need for privacy would be for this.

"I know you don't like talking with people, and he wants to talk to you privately. If you refuse, I can send him away."

"No, I..." Tavia refused, touched by how considerate her stepmother was, "Thanks, mom."

She didn't realise the title had passed her mouth.

"Of course."

For a moment, Tavia thought of coming clean, then erased the idea, the name getting called out in her ears with a ring once again.

Emma walked out before her, yet still waited for her to pass by her to talk to this guy alone.

"I'm right outside if you need me, ok?" She reminded Tavia once again before getting out of the living room and closing the door behind her.

Tavia turned to the man once again, trying to understand who he was and why he was here. She didn't need to wait long before the man started to introduce himself.

"Hi, I am Alaric Saltzman. I am the headmaster of a school a few towns away, you may have heard of it, maybe, the Salvatore School for Young and Gifted."

Tavia had, in fact, heard of it. However, it was a private school for the rich. Or at least it was advertised that way. "I'm assuming you're here because of my last name." Tavia guessed. She had heard Riddles used to be rich once, after all.

"I simply want to introduce you to the Salvatore School, that's all." Alaric answered, looking at the new-teen witch, "I believe you have heard of us as a private school for the rich."

"Yes, I have," Tavia accepted, letting out as little as possible. If they weren't interested in her last name, what were they interested, she only could guess.

"Well, it's a façade." The headmaster accepted in a single breath, "What is true is that we are a school of magic."

"I have control over my powers," Tavia rejected the offer before hearing the full extent of it, "I don't need to go to a school about it."

"Do you need to press it down for the every day of the rest of your life, though?" The headmaster asked her as he kneeled down to her level. "All I offer you is a place where you can be yourself, where you won't be judged."

Tavia didn't believe his words. They sounded like a dream come true, like a fantasy, a child's fairy tales. Still, when he offered his card to her, she took it.

"If you'd like to enrol, we'd be happy to have you." His last words were before he left her home.

All her hope had disappeared the other day. It was going to be a simple day. Her parents were going to get the paperwork done, they were going to come back home, have a dinner as a family and go to bed.

Instead, they never stepped into their home again.

It would be the last time Tavia would hope for something good to happen to her, she swore on it.

She had let senseless, stupid dreams cloud her judgment and made her happy. Now she was left in the same dump hole she was born into, just in a different font.

Andersons' closest relatives had gotten the house, but had refused to take Tavia in. Not our blood, they had said, not our responsibility. They had at least let her keep the stuff Emma and Charles had bought for her.

For the first three hours, the fog still hadn't cleared enough for her to know where to go. She waited in the police station, thinking and not knowing what to do. 

At least she had a citizenship, she had thought for a moment. Although she wondered if it was a good thing in the other. She didn't exactly know what happened to illegal immigrants, but she had heard of deportation. If it meant going back to England, to Rose, she would have thrown the damn thing away. But she refused to take the risk for a guess.

Detectives and police had come and gone, some to say what had happened to her parents, some to give her options she couldn't focus on. At last, she had approached one herself and had asked for a social worker.

It took an hour. One didn't show up. All that time, her hand was holding Roselyn's teddy bear in her bag.

What she guessed was her sketchbook had brushed her hand a few times, but she had ignored it till midnight struck. That was when an officer approached her.

Her body had immediately tensed up despite there being no similarities.

"Do you have somewhere to go?" The officer had asked.

Only then did she remember the card. "Can I..." She had asked, unsure if she should bother the man after rejecting him so firmly, "...make a phone call? My phone died."

The officer had looked at her with pity for a moment, but had still taken his own personal phone out. "I am not supposed to let you, but here you go."

She had dialled his number, expecting to hear a sleepy voice at the end. It went unanswered. How she could expect an answer, she had no idea; it was the middle of the night after all.

She handed the phone back.

"What about this, I'll drop you off at a homeless shelter for the night, and you can come back tomorrow morning, and you can call this man again?" 

She nodded, not seeing another way out of this.

Chapters

Chapter 1: The Fall Of Hope

Chapter 2: Trouble Keeps Knocking On The Door

Chapter 3: The Troubles of The Mean Girls

Chapter 4: The Sins of The Past

Chapter 5: The Covers and The Searches

Chapter 6: The Lugals

Chapter 7: The Games of The Wizard

Chapter 8: The Defeat of The Mikaelsons

AO3 Link.

Wattpad Link.

Tumblr Chapters

Chapter 2: The Rejection and The Vision

Chapter 1: The Forgotten Test

Chapter 3: The Meeting of a Cousin and of a Lover

Chapter 4: The Family and The Kiss

Chapter 5: The Reveal and The Unravel

Chapter 6: The Agreement and The Start of a Rebellion