Chapter 7
Brittany awoke to a strange, distant noise that grew louder the more she listened; banging, chanting, and something else that she couldn’t quite place. She groggily rolled over in bed, her face scrunching up in confusion as she tried to make sense of the sound. Her mind was foggy with sleep, but she pushed herself up, her legs swinging off the side of the bed. The noise was unmistakably coming from the study.
She rubbed her eyes and stood up, her bare feet padding quietly across the floor. When she reached the study, the door was ajar, and she hesitated for a moment before pushing it open.
What she saw made her heart stop.
Freya was standing in the center of the room, her blonde hair wild and unkempt, her clothes torn as if she had been through some kind of violent struggle. But it wasn’t the state of her appearance that froze Brittany in her tracks, it was the blood. Blood was pouring from Freya’s eyes and nose, thick and dark against her pale skin, staining the floor beneath her.
Vincent was standing beside her, looking grim as he watched Freya intently, his hand outstretched as if trying to steady her. The chanting had stopped, but Brittany felt the weight of the moment; the eerie, oppressive atmosphere hanging in the air like a heavy mist.
And then there was the man Brittany didn’t recognize.
He stood in the corner, his posture elegant and regal, his features sharp and almost inhumanly perfect. He didn’t look as disturbed as Vincent, but there was a quiet intensity about him that left Brittany feeling a little like a deer caught in headlights.
Freya’s eyes flickered toward her, and though she looked weakened, she managed a strained smile. “Brittany,” she said softly, her voice hoarse. “It’s okay, I’m fine. Just a little... overwhelmed.”
Vincent caught her gaze and nodded briefly, but he didn’t seem as reassuring. His face was taut with concern, his dark eyes narrow and focused on the situation at hand.
“I’ll explain everything,” Freya continued, her voice stronger now, though still laced with the fatigue of the spell she had just performed. “But first, meet Marcel.” She gestured toward the man standing in the corner.
Marcel stepped forward, a smooth, polite smile forming on his lips. His presence was magnetic—like he commanded attention just by existing. Brittany noticed the faint sheen to his skin, his eyes gleaming with the unmistakable gleam of a vampire. It was the first time she’d seen one in person, and she couldn’t deny how... otherworldly he looked. His aura was one of power, yet there was something unnervingly calm about the way he held himself.
“Marcel,” he introduced himself, his voice smooth and welcoming, but there was an edge to it that made Brittany take a step back. “It’s good to meet you, Brittany.”
She gave a tight, nervous smile, instinctively pulling back. “Uh, hi. Nice to meet you, too.” She wasn’t sure what to say. What do you say to a vampire?
Marcel nodded politely, though he didn’t seem offended. “I’ll leave you all to it,” he said, his voice cool and collected. “Freya, Vincent... good luck with the training.”
And with that, Marcel left the room, his footsteps almost inaudible as he disappeared into the hallway.
Brittany’s attention shifted back to Freya and Vincent, who exchanged a few concerned looks. “What’s going on?” she asked, her voice laced with uncertainty. “What was that all about?”
Freya gave a weary sigh. “The situation is escalating faster than we expected. There’s a faction of vampires that’s been causing trouble in New Orleans; a group of extremists who want to wipe out anyone who’s not a ‘pure’ vampire. It’s a dangerous situation, and it’s only going to get worse from here. We need your help, Brittany.”
Brittany’s stomach twisted. “Wait, me? I just... I don’t even know what I’m doing here. How am I supposed to help with... all of this?” Her voice faltered as the weight of the situation hit her. She still wasn’t sure what her role in all this was.
Vincent’s gaze softened as he took a step closer. “You’re more capable than you think,” he said, his voice steady. “Freya’s been training you for a reason. You’re learning how to fight, how to protect yourself and those you care about. We’ll train you properly, but it’s going to take some time. And you’ll be facing off against a vampire today. Not just any vampire, though. An Original.”
Brittany’s brow furrowed in confusion. “An... Original? What does that mean?”
Before Freya could answer, Hope, who had been resting upstairs, appeared in the doorway. She smirked at Brittany, clearly amused. “Don’t worry. It’s not as scary as it sounds,” she said, though her tone was dripping with sarcasm. “Good luck, though. You’ll need it.”
Brittany was still trying to process everything, but she couldn’t help the slight grin that tugged at her lips at Hope’s comment. It reminded her so much of Santana; sarcastic, bold, and not afraid to speak her mind. For a second, Brittany felt that familiar pang of sadness, missing Santana more than she liked to admit.
She had been drawn to the idea of becoming a hero, but now she wasn’t sure if she could handle the pressure of living up to that expectation. She felt small compared to the gravity of the situation.
Freya gave her a soft, understanding smile. “We’ll take it slow today. I want you to see just how real the danger is. We’ll start with basic defense and then—”
“Then, I think it’s time for you to meet Elijah,” Vincent interrupted, his tone serious. “He’s going to help us train you.”
Brittany looked up in surprise. “Elijah?” she asked. “Like the Elijah Mikaelson?”
Freya nodded. “Yes. He’s one of the most powerful beings on the planet, and he’s agreed to help. You’ll be sparring with him today.”
Brittany’s eyes widened. She’d heard the name before, mostly whispered in reverence or fear, but the idea of actually meeting him in person left her feeling a little weak in the knees. Elijah Mikaelson, the name alone sent chills down her spine.
She didn’t have long to wonder, though, because not long after Freya finished speaking, the door to the study creaked open, and in stepped Elijah.
Brittany’s breath caught in her throat. Elijah was everything she had imagined; tall, impeccably dressed, and with an aura of regality that made her feel like she was in the presence of royalty. His dark eyes locked onto hers, sharp and calculating, and for a moment, she almost felt like she wasn’t allowed to breathe in his presence.
“Elijah,” Freya greeted him warmly. “Thanks for coming.”
Elijah gave a polite nod, his voice smooth and commanding as he replied, “Of course. Anything for you, sister.”
Brittany stood frozen for a second, unsure whether to say anything at all. Don’t say anything stupid, she mentally reminded herself. She had no idea how to talk to someone like Elijah Mikaelson, especially not with her stupid questions.
“Brittany,” Freya said gently, pulling her from her reverie. “This is Elijah. He’s agreed to assist us with your training.”
Elijah’s gaze softened for just a moment, almost as though he was assessing her, but then his expression became neutral again. “It’s a pleasure,” he said. “We’ll begin with basic sparring, but know that I won’t go easy on you.” His tone was calm but held a slight edge. “You’ll need to learn how to face an enemy like me.”
Brittany swallowed hard. The idea of facing a being as powerful as Elijah was terrifying, but she couldn’t back down now. She was here, and she was going to give this everything she had.
But as she stood there, facing Elijah, her mind suddenly began to spin. Freya’s words echoed in her ears, and a slow realization started to dawn on her. Elijah Mikaelson, Freya’s brother? That meant...
Her eyes flickered between Freya, Hope, and Elijah, and it hit her all at once.
Freya, the powerful witch who was training her. Hope, with her sharp wit and strength. They were all Mikaelsons. The name held weight; the legacy of one of the oldest, most powerful families in history. Elijah was standing in front of her. The Elijah Mikaelson. The oldest vampire in existence, and one of the most feared. The man who had helped shape New Orleans, for better or worse.
Her breath caught in her throat. She was in the presence of the most powerful family to ever walk the Earth, and they were training her. She was learning from two of the strongest witches of all time. Freya, who had been alive for centuries, and Hope, the tribrid, the only one of her kind. She was a witch, a vampire, and a werewolf all wrapped into one, and Brittany was learning from her too.
Her head spun, and the weight of it all hit her like a ton of bricks.
What am I even doing here? she thought to herself. I’m just a girl from Ohio, and now I’m living with the most powerful family on Earth... learning to fight vampires and do magic.
Brittany felt a lump form in her throat as the magnitude of the situation finally sunk in. She wasn’t just training for some random fight. She was training for something huge, something she wasn’t sure she was ready for.
But there was no turning back now. She was part of this world, whether she liked it or not.
And maybe, just maybe, she could learn to be the hero they needed her to be.
Freya began their training immediately, and Brittany’s nerves were palpable. She hadn’t expected her first day of actual training to be this intense. Not only was she sparring with Elijah Mikaelson, but she was also being taught how to kill vampires, actual vampires. The whole concept was hard to grasp, but the more she learned, the more it started to make sense.
Freya, ever the patient teacher, started with the basics. “When it comes to vampires,” she said, her voice cool and serious, “there are a few simple rules you need to follow. Stakes, for one; stakes kill them. Not garlic. Forget everything you’ve heard about garlic; it doesn’t work. But vervain... vervain works.”
She pulled out a delicate bracelet from her pocket and handed it to Brittany. “This will keep you safe for now. Vervain can prevent vampires from compelling you, because trust me, you don’t want to fall victim to their influence. You need to be able to think for yourself in this world.”
Brittany examined the bracelet in her hands, its simple elegance betraying the power it held. “So, it’s like... anti-vampire armor?”
Freya smirked. “If you want to think of it that way, sure. But it’ll be more useful than you know.”
Elijah, watching closely from the side, added, “You need to understand, Brittany, killing a vampire is about precision. Just snapping their neck won’t do the job unless you’ve staked them. If you don’t, they’ll revive. But staking them through the heart will ensure they stay dead.”
Brittany’s stomach churned at the thought of driving a wooden stake through someone’s heart, but she knew it was necessary. She had to learn, no matter how uncomfortable it made her.
Elijah turned to her with a calculating gaze. “Now, let's begin your first lesson. Defend yourself as best as you can.”
With that, the sparring began. Though Elijah held back, letting Brittany find her rhythm, there was no mistaking the power behind every move he made. Each strike was calculated and precise, and Brittany quickly learned how out of her depth she truly was.
But as the fight progressed, she found her footing. It wasn’t perfect, far from it, but there was a fire in her, a determination to rise to the occasion. Elijah, impressed by her resilience, gave a slight nod, acknowledging her potential.
Freya, watching from the sidelines, smiled. “You’re doing better than I thought.”
Hope, who had been observing from the doorway, muttered, “Eh, she’s got potential. She might just survive this after all.”
And for the first time, Brittany felt something she hadn’t in days: hope.