Diclaimer: I do not own The Vampire Diaries or The Originals or anything from that world.

Chapter One

We are all human at our core.

Vampires, werewolves, witches. All human in their soul. It was something the supernatural world had long forgotten, drunk on their strength and their magic. Claiming their superiority over the humans, as if they had never lived a simple life – as if they were born with an ache in their throat and claws as hands. Pretended that they had not ever been simple creatures, equal parts cautious and fearless. Lied to themselves as if they had never felt the agony in their bones when life led them astray.

Vampire, werewolf or witch – everyone started out life as a human.

Desiccation was a slow process. It started as an itch in the back of my throat, mildly annoying but manageable. Nothing I had not experienced before. I wanted to scoff at how naive I had been to believe that I could handle the slow process of starving to death, like I had experience to compare the pain to. When my veins began to run dry and my lungs burned with each difficult breath, only then did I pray to the Gods I had long ceased to believe in.

Is this my punishment? Is this how my life was to end?

How many years had gone by? It had to have been years. Had the world changed much in that time, I wondered. What events had unfolded in the world I once roamed while I wasted away in a forgotten cave? When my mind allowed it, I would mull over these questions. Daydream. Who was king? What wars had been fought in my absence? I always loved the wars. It was never a question of if, but when. When men decided that daggers cloaked as words were not enough. Always when.

When. When will I ever get out of this nightmare?

Hindsight was a bittersweet thing.

Looking back, I could see the moment my fate had been sealed, the moment I had unknowingly but eagerly rushed into this hell.

I let go of her hand.

Rebekah had tried, of course, to get me to stay. I remember her pleas like a distant echo, distorted by time and pain.

"Arabella no! Please, you must stay!"

"I have no choice, sister, I'll be back."

How foolish was I to run straight into danger and expect to escape unscathed. I knew that He was there, I knew what he had come to do and yet… yet my feet had still carried me into town.

I had to get it. I have no choice.

I have to get it, I have to get it, I have to get it…

Not for the first time I debated turning off my humanity. It was not only pain that I felt as the years went by, but guilt, despair, depression. Panic. Always panic.

Panic that He had caught them. Panic that they had died. Panic that they had forgotten about me.

Always and Forever – that was our family vow. Despite the deception and the lies, despite the many years we had cut each other down in a way that no one else ever could; when it counted my siblings and I never broke that vow. Always and Forever. Simple. Plain. Powerful.

I had to wonder, sometimes, in my deepest depression, whether they had looked for me. What had Michael told them – because he would have told them, gloated relentlessly that he had caught one of the world's greatest abominations – and had they believed it? Had Rebekah run after me? Did Elijah search the land for any trace of my existence? Perhaps Nik and Kol had contacted a witch, forced her through pretty threats to locate me. They probably killed her when she failed.

I may no longer be a witch, but I am still a being born of magic, no matter how dark. I could feel the power radiate from the walls of this cave and knew that only powerful dark magic would be able to crack it. The monster would have made sure of that.

Magic was never meant to hurt.

Humanity hurts. And I continue to let it consume me.

A nudge against my leg. My eyes were too dry to open anymore – I was well acquainted with the back of my eyelids by now – but I knew that feeling. The nudge was familiar, as was the sharp pain I could feel on the back of my knee.

Rats.

It was not uncommon for them to make their way in the cave on occasion, driven by desperation for food or shelter. In the early days of my sentence I would feed on the rodents, savagely ripping through their tiny bodies as I greedily drained them dry. Eventually enough time had gone by since the last visit that when one rat had finally returned, I was too desiccated to move.

And so began a different type of torture.

Unable to move, to do more than moan in pain, that rat had eaten its way through my foot until it got to the bone. Then it had come back, gorging itself on the dry flesh of my shin. This rat seemed to have taken a liking to the shrivelled tendon of the back of my knee. The nerves snapped between its teeth and my leg jolted, lighting my body on fire and I could do nothing by yell in my mind. My throat was too dry to produce any sound. I could do nothing, say nothing, scream nothing, as I was tortured in the most barbaric way possible.

I wish I had died in 1702. It would have been less painful.

There were moments, rare as they were, that I was completely clear headed.

Pain lingered in my bones but it was dimmed, pushed to the back of my mind as if an afterthought. While I could no longer move I could feel everything – feel the dry and dusty ground beneath my fingers, the stale air lingering around my skin in mockery of the winds I had once enjoyed. These were not necessarily pleasant moments, but I rather enjoyed them, because I could think. My thoughts were clear, and it was during these times I thought about my siblings, and what had become of them.

I prayed that they had made it safely aboard the ship and to the New World. The ship had been ready for weeks, waiting for us to take off to the land in which we grew up. We had lingered, all of us, captivated by the beauty of Spain and its culture. While we had taken measures to hide our existence, we had been lax and it had cost us.

He – the monster – had never been far behind us in the centuries we had travelled but that day… If I could shiver I would, at the memory of that day and how close we had come to death. It was rare we were caught off guard but I do remember the dread that had settled in my stomach when Niklaus and I had stumbled upon his horse, Theo – the poor creature's head had been mounted on a spike in town square. A warning.

Sometimes I look back on the memory and think of what I could have done differently to change the outcome of this sad tale. I had been foolish to return to the burning town but what I had left behind was too important. I wonder if Rebekah would have gone with me had I told her of the object's importance; most likely, but then we would both be rotting away in this hell and what would have been the point? Perhaps He would have spared her the agony – she had always been his favourite – and just killed her.

Some savage part of me hoped that He had. That He had gotten to them all.

But those were thoughts driven by my loneliness and sadness and I pushed them away. No, I do not wish death on my siblings. I have hope they lived, that they had returned to the New World and lived their lives with as much peace as they could find. A ridiculous notion – my family were not known to be peaceful, to each other or others – but one I clung to, nonetheless. One had to have some hope in a situation such as mine.

I would dream, when my mind allowed it, of the places my siblings would settle. I could imagine Rebekah settling into the noble life of the New World with a pretty smile and sharp eyes; she always loved the attention, craved the feeble love of a man. Nik would be with her of course, ever the overprotective older brother. Hopefully he had not killed anymore of her lovers – Rebekah's patience was limited even if she favoured Niklaus.

Kol had probably sought out the first coven he could, charmed one of the young witches with a wicked smile and soft kisses. It was more habit now than anything else, to seek out the witches and learn their secrets; he, like I, had taken our loss of magic when we had transitioned hard. For a witch, to be cut off from nature itself… Kol had spent his life trying to chase that connection in any way he could. I had no doubt he had continued to do so in the New World.

Elijah… I hope he had settled nicely. The last I saw of him he had been equal in both his fear and anger – he had worked hard to cover our tracks in Spain, in hopes that we could live peacefully for at least a few more years. I remember the flames casting a shadow on his face and being reminded that while he was the oldest – Finn did not count – he had been thrust into his role unexpectantly. The oldest and our carer, unable to break away and have his own life because his loyalty would not allow him. Nik took his loyalty for granted but I did not.

How I missed Elijah. If I had listened to him I would have never ended up here.

It seems, I mused to myself. I wish I could smile, if only for myself. That you were, once again, right, my dear brother.

When the pain eased and I could finally think with a clear mind, I would spend it thinking about my family, and how much a I missed them. It was always with a heavy heart that I would descend back into the pain I had become familiar with.

Always and Forever, my dear family.

"Arabella, no! You must stay!" Rebekah was distraught. I did not blame her.

We did not need our superior hearing to hear the screams that came from the town – the fire was casting a hazy glow over the hills, the bells echoing out into the land and perhaps further, out to sea. The ship was ready, docked and filled with the compelled crew Elijah had summoned weeks ago but Rebekah and I had yet to board. We were waiting.

"I have no choice," I told my sister. Her brow pinched and I squeezed her hand. "I must return, get my necklace."

Rebekah pulled me sharply towards her, eyes blazing. "The necklace is irrelevant! You know what waits you should you return and yet you risk your life for a blasted piece of jewellery?"

"It is important to me."

I did not begrudge her anger. She did not understand the importance of my necklace, one I had carried with me through the centuries. At least, not the real reason.

"Arabella, your life is more important than that necklace, no matter your attachment to it," Rebekah said, her tone pleading for me to understand. To change my mind.

"That is not for you to decide," I said softly. I squeezed her hand once again, trying to convey all my love and reassurance through that one gesture. She was not wrong and I could not claim she was but I would not be swayed. "I promise you, He will never see me. Hopefully the fires have yet to reach our manor. Sister, I will be back."

I did not let her respond, wrenching my hand free and taking off before she could do anything - there was no doubt in my mind that Rebekah would snap my neck to keep me from going.

Our manor lay just outside of Càdiz, a little simple for our tastes but it had worked nicely. The manor itself once belonged to a Spanish noble, though I had never bothered to remember his name – hardly anything he could have done when compulsion was used. It was beautifully decorated – thank you, Rebekah – and I had grown quite attached. The pillars in front stood tall, framing the intricate wooden doorway that provided entry; I let my hand brush over the window frame in the door as I passed, tracing the names I had etched into the wood on our second night here. Elijah had complained but as always with my eldest brother, I had gotten my way.

The manor was silent as I ran up the stairs and perhaps that should have been my first clue. I was so focused on collecting my necklace that I paid no mind to my instincts.

My bed had been made in my absence; the many pillows piled neatly onto my bed as if I had never knocked them off the night before. Briefly, my thoughts turned to the housemaid, Juana – I do hope she was alright. Even though she was compelled she was a lovely person and I had grown quite fond of her in our time here.

I pushed those thoughts aside and kneeled on the floor next to the bed, my hand automatically skimming the boarded floor, searching for the dip I knew hid there. My fingers brushed over the small patch of uneven wood and I pressed down. The board lifted and I hurried to move it aside, reaching in and quickly pulling out the wooden box, setting it in my lap. My fingers traced the edges, noting every chip and dent that had been made over the years. I had owned this particular box for years now. It had served me well.

The box itself was unremarkable but it was not what I cared about anyway. It what lay inside that had me holding my breath.

Opening the box, I sighed in relief to see my necklace still sitting on the on the cushion. The necklace itself had changed over the years, first as a leather strap and then metal chains. The only constant was the pendant, the moonstone that was now encased in the twisted silver like a mouse trapped in the grip of a snake. It ensured that it did not fall out.

Quickly, I hung the chain around my neck and threw the box on the bed. The box did not matter, I had what I needed. Now I needed to return to Rebekah, and the ship – hopefully, Elijah and Niklaus had located Kol and had returned to the ship. I could only imagine the look on Elijah's face when he found out that I had run off.

My footsteps were quiet as I made my way down the staircase, nothing but the sound of my own breath and the distant screams of the townspeople could be heard and it was then, just as my foot touched the last step, that I remembered what I had felt when I had first walked in.

I paused, looked around nervously. Something felt not quite right – the air was too still, as if time itself had frozen. I bit my lip, a pit forming low in my belly; my hand gripped the banister so tight that I could feel the wood start to give way, breaking apart and digging into my palm.

I did not dare to move. There was something here, something evil lingering in the air. My sense was heightened and my instincts screaming at me to run, to leave and never look back. Panic slowly curled around my chest and squeezed, halting any chance of me taking a decent breath and my eyes darted towards the door.

It was right there…

I felt the air shift before anything else, and yet I was still unprepared as someone threw me out the window and onto the front lawn.

I rolled a few feet before landing on my side, my breath leaving me. I wasted no time in stumbling to my feet, panic and fear making me clumsy. I knew who I would see if I looked up, there was no reason for me to hesitate and lift my eyes to the porch…

I looked up.

"Mikael."

My father gave a wicked smile. "Hello, daughter."

More often than I liked I would be lost in my memories. Some good and some terrible. That had been one of my worst.

It was only because of the lingering terror the memory brough that I did not notice anything immediately.

The stale air moved, gentle brushes against my desiccated my body and event though I could draw no breath, I could still smell a delicious scent.

Blood.

It was close, I could smell it, and the hunger that gnawed at my insides me grew even stronger. Never had I felt so ravenous. It made me ache, longing for the taste of blood and I wished I could move or make some sort of noise. It was absolute torture smelling that beautiful scent and unable to do anything about it.

Please! I begged silently. Please, I need a taste. I need blood!

I could hear low murmurs and the footsteps, several of them – their feet light on the dry ground – and I could see the low light from behind my eyelids. Someone was close to me, I could sense them and they must have knelt beside me because I could hear rustling of fabric and then the footsteps ceased.

"Oh, what did he do to you, little one?"

There were fingers on my face and I wanted nothing more than to turn into them, soak in the comfort that the touch brought. The voice – a man – was deep and familiar, stirring a warm feeling inside of me. Where had I heard the voice before?

Fingers brushed my hair out of my face and then there was another on my neck, gently tipping my head back. The movement hurt after spending so long desiccated but whoever the hands belonged to were gentle as they manoeuvred me; there was hand cupping my neck, keeping my head in place as I was draped across someone's lap. So many sensations, so new yet so familiar flooded my senses and I felt overwhelmed.

"Niklaus, hand me the blood bag."

Niklaus? I thought. Surely not. It could not be my brother, not after this long.

Could it?

I tried to focus, tried to form some coherent thought but then my mouth was pried open with gentle hands and all I could taste was blood.

Sweet blood – it tasted heavenly.

I felt intoxicated already and greedily drunk every drop that was tipped into my mouth. My nerves were alight, pure delight coursing through my body for the first time in what felt like years and I could not hold back the indecent groan that escaped me when some strength had returned to my body. When I could I lifted my hands and clutched around whatever was sitting at my mouth – the material was foreign but what it contained was not. My hands wrapped around the hand holding it and in some distant part of my head I knew I was crushing this man's hand. He did not seem to mind, even as I felt bone crunch under my fingers.

The blood was not fresh but I was not picky – any blood right now would taste down right divine. It was not long before whatever had been containing the blood was empty. The noise I made as it was pried from my lips was embarrassing but I was still so hungry.

"I will get you more but you need to open your eyes, sister."

Sister? That was… I remember that voice. It could not be.

Could it?

I breathed as deeply as I could, coughing slightly at the dust that had built up in my throat. My hands blindly reached out and I felt a familiar jaw, my hand automatically framing it in a gesture I had thought long forgotten.

"Elijah?" Did I dare to hope?

Head turning, he pressed a soft kiss to my palm and said, "I'm here, Arabella."

I could not help the tears that escaped as I opened my eyes for the first time in years. Though half of his face was covered by darkness, the sight of my brother's face peering down at me was the sweetest sight I had ever seen.

"You found me," I breathed. More tears fell down my face and he was quick to wipe them away with the pad of his thumb. Though it trembled, his smile was strong, and I could think of nothing else better than this sight.

My family had finally found me. They had not forgotten me.

Hello there. Long time no write.

I finally, finally got this out. I'm not sure how well it turned out but it is way better than my original version. To me at least. I'm still unsure about using first person because trying to get other character's perspective and thoughts are tough in first person but let me know how you fell about it. Whether you want me to continue like this or if you want it differently. I might write this first chapter in third person and post it, see how you guys like it.

I know it's been awhile and I'm going to keep this short but thank you, those of you who are still here. Writing has just been difficult lately but I'm writing when I can. Even if I only do three or four sentences at a time, I'll keep writing.

Next chapter we will get the reuinion between Arabella and Elijah and Niklaus :D

Until next time, lovelies!