Ethan lingered there for a few more minutes, listening only to the soft, rhythmic lapping of the lake's water against the shore. The cold morning breeze touched his bare chest, yet it couldn't extinguish the frustrated fire burning within him.
With a heavy sigh, he stood up abruptly from the wooden bench, grabbing his shirt off the backrest.
"You know what? Screw all of this," Ethan muttered to no one, his voice raspy and laced with rage. "I should stop caring so damn much. I should live the way I want to live, instead of becoming anyone's doormat."
He tried to convince himself of that. He tried to pretend he could simply turn his back on the Mikaelsons, leave New Orleans, and live his own life without looking back. But the second those words left his mouth, his mind and his own chest explicitly refused to accept it. The bond with Hope burned in his chest—an invisible, unbreakable pull keeping him tied to her safety, no matter how harshly she had pushed him away.
The sharp contradiction between what he wanted to feel and what he actually felt made him clench his fists tightly. Ethan's face twisted into a grimace of pure anger and powerlessness.
"Damn it..." he cursed under his breath, jaw clenching tightly at the thought of Clark. He cursed his own father for leaving him that legacy, that blood, and a burden he had never asked to carry. If it weren't for this bloodline, these instincts, and this cursed bond, he wouldn't be stuck in the middle of the crossfire and the endless drama of a thousand-year-old family.
Still heavy-breathing with rage, Ethan ran a hand through his hair, staring at the calm reflection of the lake. He looked at the shirt in his hands and let out a heavy huff, completely discarding the idea of putting it on. It was nearly unbearable for him; it felt like he was walking through the middle of the Sahara Desert. Curiously, he felt no real pain or physical discomfort—it was just an intense, simmering internal cauldron.
Lacking the patience to fight the sensation, he draped the folded shirt over his shoulder, leaving his chest and torso fully bare, and decided to find a place to buy an ice cream to try and cool down his throat.
As he strolled along the sidewalks of the French Quarter, Ethan enjoyed his ice cream, contemplating what he would do when all of this was finally over and he could return to the Salvatore School. He had always wanted a motorcycle, but his mother never let him get one because he was too young. What would she think if she saw him now? He let out an ironic chuckle just imagining the scene.
Along the way, it was inevitable: most of the women passing by couldn't help but look. His muscular, toned physique drew plenty of attention, with curious and discreet glances following his steps as he walked casually shirtless through the streets.
A few hours passed.
In the Saint Louis Cemetery, the atmosphere was thick with a heavy silence. Bill's body had already been laid to rest, and Hope remained alone in front of the grave, staring intently at his photograph while tears streamed endlessly down her face. He was the first person she had ever killed in her life—an innocent human who had nothing to do with this war. She hadn't wanted this. Guilt seemed to be devouring her from the inside out.
As she wept, Davina Claire approached from behind without making a single sound. Before saying a word, Davina's eyes caught the back of Hope's neck: the dark, pulsing veins of the Hollow were visible right beneath her skin.
"Hey..." Davina said softly.
Hope turned around, startled, but upon recognizing the witch, she let out a sigh of relief and whispered a "hey" back, moving straight in for a desperate embrace.
Stepping back, Davina looked at her with concern. "Are you okay?"
"No..." Hope replied, wiping her face. Then, looking into Davina's eyes, she added, "I'm so sorry about Josh, Davina. Truly."
Davina, who had been extremely close to Josh and was still carrying the heavy burden of grieving his loss, swallowed hard and answered with emotional eyes, "Thank you, Hope... And how is your head feeling?"
"It's buzzing..." Hope answered, her voice exhausted.
"I can make a tea that might help," Davina offered, trying to bring some comfort. "And hey, never underestimate the power of wedding champagne!"
Hope gave a faint smile, shaking her head. "Do you really think they'd let me miss this wedding? It's just... the way I'm feeling right now, I didn't want to ruin their day."
"Your absence is what would ruin the day," Davina stated firmly. "Look, I know you're going through a lot of hard things right now. But if there's one thing I learned when I was fifteen and carrying the weight of the world on my shoulders, it's that you need to live in the moment. Josh taught me that."
Hope smiled softly at her, touched by her words. However, a moment later, her gaze dropped to the ground. The memory of how she had treated Ethan earlier hit her mind with full force. She realized she needed to find him as soon as possible; he didn't even know about Freya and Keelin's wedding, and she hadn't seen him for hours since pushing him away in the courtyard.
"Davina, I have to go. I need to find Ethan. He doesn't know about the wedding."
Davina, who had already heard the basics about the boy from Klaus, noticed the shift in Hope's expression. Wanting to gauge her reaction, Davina asked directly:
"Who is he?"
Hope swallowed hard and confessed that Ethan was someone very important to her. However, she explained that she had treated him terribly that morning and hadn't seen him in hours. Hope went into detail about why she had pushed him away, describing exactly what Ethan's touch did to her: it silenced the Hollow's voices, but acted like a dam, making the impact much worse once they let go of each other.
Davina listened attentively. She had heard Klaus mention this detail before, but seeing Hope's distress firsthand made her even more intrigued. She wanted to meet this Ethan in person; something told Davina that the answers and the key to Hope's struggles might lie in him.
"When you find Ethan, tell him I want to talk to him. Klaus mentioned him before, and I find him... interesting."
Hope frowned, not quite understanding why Davina wanted to meet Ethan, but she nodded.
"I'll go look for him," Hope said.
Meanwhile, Klaus had already set his pieces in motion. He had compelled a woman to ensure the wedding was organized in a proper, fully prepared venue, as the ceremony wouldn't be held at the Mikaelson compound. The entire clan was involved in the preparations for Freya's big day.
Ethan, on the other hand, had no idea a wedding was taking place. He continued calmly eating his ice cream and wandering aimlessly through the city streets.
That was when Hope spotted him from a distance. She stopped dead in her tracks, staring at the scene in complete disbelief. Was he shirtless? In the middle of the street?! Why?!
As Hope walked up to him, her face turned bright red with embarrassment at the sight of his muscular torso exposed so shamelessly.
"Ethan?! Why aren't you wearing a shirt?!" Hope asked, her voice faltering.
Ethan stopped and looked straight at her. Seeing her weary expression and red-rimmed eyes, every trace of his anger melted away. He really couldn't stay mad at her, no matter how hard he tried.
"Hope... Hey, how are you holding up?" he asked.
"I'm... not doing so well," Hope said, shaking her head. But she quickly knitted her brows and asked again, "Why are you shirtless? And why did you disappear all day?"
Ethan let out a calm sigh and explained:
"You know I feel hot all the time, Hope... Staying shirtless helped a bit. As for disappearing, I just spent the day walking around. Since you told me yourself to stay away from you, I decided to leave to give you space and not make things worse."
Hope lowered her head, a pang of guilt washing over her as she remembered her morning outburst. She then looked up and delivered the news:
"My Aunt Freya and Keelin are getting married today, Ethan. That's why I came looking for you."
His eyes widened in genuine surprise.
"What? You mean Freya plays for my team?"
Hope rolled her eyes at him. "Is that really what you're focused on right now?"
Ethan looked at Hope's face, scratching his head with a smirk.
"Well, are they getting married today already?! Isn't all of this moving a bit too fast?" Ethan said.
"Yeah, but it was their decision... I'm not really in the right headspace for a wedding today, to be honest," Hope admitted, letting out a long sigh. "Oh, and Davina said she wants to meet you. I know it's not a great time."
Ethan knit his brows slightly, curious about the unfamiliar name.
"Who's Davina?" he asked.
Hope sighed softly, organizing her thoughts to explain the history of the girl she admired so much:
"Davina is one of the most powerful witches New Orleans has ever seen. She was one of the Harvest girls years ago. My father and my family did a lot of terrible things to her in the past, but she survived it all. She was even the Regent of all the witch coven clans in the city."
"Damn..." Ethan muttered, impressed.
"Yeah. And she's married to my Uncle Kol," Hope continued, offering a faint smile. "Which means, on paper, she's my aunt. But to me, she's always been more like a big sister or a guide. She knows what it feels like to carry monstrous power inside your chest when you're too young to handle it. She went through things similar to what I'm going through right now. That's why she cares so much."
Ethan absorbed it all, genuinely surprised.
He glanced at Hope and then stared down the street, lost in thought.
"You don't have to go to the wedding if you don't want to, Hope."
"I know... but I need to be there for them today. I can't miss it; it's a special day," Hope replied in a resolute tone.
Ethan stopped walking, turned to her, and looked her in the eyes with a serious expression.
"Can you handle it?"
"Yes," Hope answered, looking back into his eyes and drawing strength to face the event.
"Alright then," Ethan replied. "As for this Davina, if she wants to meet me, fine. I've got nothing to hide," he added in agreement.
Hope glanced at his bare chest and gave a subtle smile, trying to lighten the mood:
"Great. But first, we need to find you proper clothes for a real Mikaelson wedding. I don't think my father compelled an entire venue just for you to show up looking like this," she said, averting her eyes.
Ethan chuckled softly, shaking his head with playful irony as he adjusted the folded shirt over his shoulder.
"Sure... just don't expect me to wear anything too warm, Hope. You know how my body is. If you put me in a heavy wool suit or button me up to the neck, I swear I'll combust right in the middle of everyone and take you all down in flames with me."
Hope couldn't hold it in and let out a light laugh—her first genuine laugh of the day—which seemed to temporarily scatter the heavy shadows of everything she had been enduring.
"Fair enough," Hope replied, smiling. "We'll find something light—linen or a button-down with rolled-up sleeves. No vests or buttoned coats, so you don't go up in flames."
"Deal," Ethan answered with a gentle gaze, ready to walk by her side.