"Why aren't you stopping the council from getting their hands on the last piece of the device?" Malia's voice was edged with frustration as she leaned against the doorframe, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. "Won't it blow our cover if they manage to put it together?"
Her father, Viktor, sat calmly at his desk, the warm glow of a lamp casting shadows across the room as he flipped through the pages of an ancient text, preparing for his lecture the next day. He didn't look up immediately, as if her question was of little consequence.
Finally, he paused, closing the book with a soft thud and met his daughter's eyes, his expression as unreadable as ever. "There's no need to worry about that," he said in a low, measured tone. "The device has no effect against us." He picked up his pen again, his gaze returning to the papers in front of him. "Who you should be worried about is Vicki. She will be affected by the magical properties of the device once it's activated."
Malia's brow furrowed, her annoyance flaring as she pushed off the doorframe, pacing the room. "And why," she began, her voice tinged with incredulity, "should I care about Vicki? I don't know her that well."
Her father didn't look at her, his focus seemingly back on his work as he calmly replied, "Because that's your assignment."
Malia stopped in her tracks, staring at him in disbelief, her mouth slightly open. "My assignment?" she repeated, her voice raising just a little, struggling to comprehend what he meant. The frustration was evident in the furrow of her brow, the way her hands curled into fists at her sides. "What do you mean that's my assignment?"
Before Viktor could respond, a soft click of heels echoed down the hallway, and Malia's mother, Qetsiyah, entered the room with a knowing smile, holding a glass of bourbon for Viktor. Her presence commanded attention, her elegance sharpened by an underlying, dangerous edge.
"Malia, darling," Qetsiyah began, her voice smooth as silk, yet carrying an unmistakable authority. She moved toward Viktor, gracefully setting the glass on the desk before turning her attention to her daughter. "Without using your vampire or werewolf abilities and only relying on your magic, I want you to create an artifact to shield Vicki from the effects of Jonathan Gilbert's device."
Malia's eyes widened, her shock evident as she stared at her mother. "You can't be serious," she muttered, blinking in disbelief. But before she could argue further, Qetsiyah's lips curled into a terrifying grin, her dark eyes flashing with amusement.
"Oh, we're very serious," Qetsiyah said, her tone almost teasing as she exchanged a glance with Viktor. "Your father and I discussed it, and we agreed. No arguments."
Malia's gaze darted between her mother and father, searching for some sign of mercy from Viktor, but all he offered was a slight shrug, as if the decision had already been made long ago. He picked up his glass of bourbon and took a sip, his expression utterly relaxed, as though the conversation were no more important than the weather.
"You're both really on board with this?" Malia asked, her voice laced with disbelief as her eyes lingered on her father, hoping for some sign that he would relent.
Viktor set the glass down and leaned back in his chair, meeting his daughter's eyes with a calm but firm expression. "You'll thank us later," he said simply, the faintest hint of a smirk playing at the corner of his lips.
Malia's shoulders slumped slightly as she realized there was no way out of this. She let out an exasperated sigh, her frustration clear in the way she threw her hands up in defeat. "Fine," she muttered under her breath. "I'll do it."
Qetsiyah's grin widened, satisfaction gleaming in her eyes as she stepped closer to Malia, placing a hand on her shoulder. "That's my girl," she whispered, her voice dripping with pride and a hint of mischief. "Now, let's see what kind of magic you're truly capable of."
Malia shot her mother a glare, still not entirely thrilled, but there was a flicker of determination in her eyes.
With a heavy sigh, Malia turned on her heel and left her parents behind, their voices fading as she made her way through the winding halls of the Mikaelson home. The house was large and imposing, the echoes of her footsteps bouncing off the walls, but her mind was preoccupied with her new, unwanted assignment. As she entered the living room, a strange, creeping sensation prickled at the back of her neck, an instinct she had learned not to ignore. Something was wrong.
She paused mid-step, her senses heightened, and just as she spun around, her hand shot up with lightning speed, catching a dagger hurtling toward her. She stared at the gleaming blade in her hand, her lips curling into an exasperated smile. "Really, Uncle Kol?" she said, shaking her head as she lowered the weapon. "Still not going to stop pulling all these tricks?"
From the shadows, Kol stepped forward, his usual mischievous grin plastered across his face. His dark eyes sparkled with amusement as he sauntered toward her, hands in his pockets. "And miss the part where I get to teach my favorite niece a lesson or two?" He chuckled as he flopped down onto the couch, lounging as if he owned the place. "Come on, Malia. You know me better than that."
Malia rolled her eyes, though a smirk tugged at the corner of her lips. "One of these days, I'm going to throw one of these back at you."
Kol raised a playful brow, leaning forward with mock seriousness. "Oh, I'm counting on it."
Before Malia could respond, the sound of footsteps approached from the other side of the room. Rebekah entered, her eyes quickly scanning the space as if something were amiss. She furrowed her brow, crossing her arms as her gaze settled on Malia. "Where is everyone?" she asked, her voice carrying a slight edge of irritation. "Where are Freya, Elijah, and Henrik? And why is this house so empty?"
Malia shrugged, stepping past Kol as she made her way to the bar, moving with effortless grace as she vamp-speed to prepare drinks for her aunt and uncle. "Not sure where Aunt Freya or Uncle Elijah are," she said, grabbing a glass. "But Henrik's probably at Elena's. He mentioned something about helping her with… something."
Malia turned back to them, a drink in each hand, handing one to Kol and the other to Rebekah. "Here," she said with a small smile, "something to take the edge off."
Kol accepted the glass with a dramatic flourish, lifting it in a mock toast. "To family reunions, secret assignments, and dodging daggers. Cheers, Malia."
Rebekah's lips quirked into a small smile, though her eyes held that ever-present glint of wariness. She took a sip from her glass, her gaze lingering on Malia for a moment longer. "Cheers," she echoed quietly, though her thoughts seemed to be somewhere else.