Song: Royals (Lorde)
Hope POV
“Are you both completely insane?!
What possessed you to set the docks on fire?
And my love, I know you said those buildings were abandoned, but the warehouse full of Shimmer right next to them definitely wasn’t.
Oh no.
No, no, no.
I do not want to see that smile, Dad.
I’m absolutely certain the boats that burned down afterward were your doing.
Can’t you be even a little discreet?
But what am I saying?
Klaus Mikaelson has never been discreet.
Do I need to confiscate those bombs?
And no, sweetheart, don’t make that face.
Honestly, this is the last time I’m leaving the two of you alone together.”
Hope marched off toward the gym without looking back.
Even after spending an hour lecturing them, neither of them seemed remotely sorry.
And when she heard them laughing behind her, she pressed a hand to her forehead and quickened her pace.
Once she reached the gym, she collapsed into laughter.
The memory of what she had found at the docks came rushing back.
When she had arrived, she had discovered them happily taking turns throwing real bombs at buildings and paint bombs at unsuspecting pedestrians.
“That’ll teach you, Silco!
You don’t lie to Jinx!” She had shouted.
And of course, her father had joined in.
“Silco, that is no way to treat your beloved daughter!
Learn how to be a father, you bastard!”
He had never even met Silco before, but that hadn’t stopped him from enthusiastically participating in the chaos.
Damn.
She could only imagine the look on Silco’s face when he discovered his warehouse in ruins.
She might have felt a little sorry for him…
If she hadn’t been forced to save Jinx because of him.
The asshole deserved this minor inconvenience.
But maybe she should be afraid.
She had married this woman, and if today had taught her anything, it was that being banished to the couch would be the least of her worries.
At this point, she was going to call what they had done family bonding and move on.
Because she had a feeling her future was going to consist of migraines and raised eyebrows.
When she found them again after spending some time punching a few bags, her father was handing Jinx a screwdriver while she worked on building something.
And if that something happened to look suspiciously like a gun with her family’s crest engraved on the side, that was surely a coincidence.
Yes.
Definitely family bonding.
Two Days Later
“Why exactly do we need to go see those snobbish Pilties again?”
Hope gently rolled her eyes.
It was at least the twentieth time Jinx had asked that question.
And honestly, she couldn’t blame her.
Her father and she had already been forced to convince the Enforcers not to arrest them at least five times on the way here.
The looks directed at Klaus and herself had been relatively restrained.
But the sheer disgust on the guards’ faces whenever they looked at Jinx made Hope want to kill someone.
And maybe that was why Jinx kept trying to distract her.
Because a bloodbath here would be counterproductive.
“Because we need to make the clan official.
I know most Zaunites don’t do it because it’s too expensive.
But it’s also one of the ways Piltover has made all of you invisible—and easy to control.
They’re not allowed to arrest a member of a recognized clan without notifying the clan head, and even then, they’re required to hold a trial.
All these arrests, all this repression, exist because, in their eyes, you don’t legally exist.
And if you want the ability to assert your rights, this is where it starts.”
The reality of it had infuriated Hope.
In her old world, a person was born with certain rights.
They had an identity.
A first name.
A family name.
An education.
The ability to defend themselves under the law.
But the Council had stripped those possibilities away from the people of Zaun.
It was far easier to maintain a workforce that was invisible, uneducated, and obedient.
And yet, every time she walked through Zaun, she saw brilliance everywhere.
Genius.
Innovation.
Potential.
The worst part was that while establishing a clan was expensive, it wasn’t impossible.
But there was a deliberate effort to make sure that information never spread.
Idiotic Councilors.
Idiotic Heimerdinger.
When Caitlyn Kiramman had explained that she needed a registered clan in order to purchase land—and that without one she could never legally own property—Hope had been skeptical at first.
Then Caitlyn had explained, in detail, just how important clans were.
Hope had wanted to set the entire forest on fire.
She wasn’t a saint.
Far from it.
But she knew how to control herself.
And she knew how to be patient.
One day, she was going to make those Councilors’ lives a living hell.
For one simple reason:
They had made her wife cry.
When she had explained to her wife the day before that, if her parents had been wearing their clan’s emblem, they would not have been killed—arrested, perhaps, but not killed—Jinx had broken down in tears.
That was the moment Hope had placed the Councilors of Piltover and all those wealthy elites on her blacklist.
And a Mikaelson was incredibly stubborn, deeply vindictive, and utterly obsessive when it came to revenge.
But before she could begin that little vendetta, she needed the power to change things.
And that started with creating their clan.
And this was where Piltover had shot itself in the foot.
Anyone in the city—whether resident or foreigner—could apply to establish a clan.
All they needed was money.
That was how Clan Medarda had become part of Piltover in the first place.
Mel Medarda was from Noxus, yet with enough wealth and investment, she had not only secured her family’s place in the city but had eventually become a Councilor herself.
(Mel Medarda)
Money could move mountains.
And nowhere was that truer than in Piltover.
That was why the Registration Office was located right next to the bank.
A quick background check was all it took for them to know exactly who they were dealing with—their identity, their origins, and most importantly, the extent of their wealth.
When they entered, the guards looked as though they wanted to stop them.
But that was the beauty of Piltover’s own laws.
Unless someone had committed an act of violence, they had no legal right to deny them entry.
So the three of them walked inside with their hands casually tucked into their pockets.
Hope approached the registration desk.
The room was fairly empty, and she felt a surge of satisfaction at not having to wait in line.
Memories of endless queues back on Earth sent a shiver down her spine.
As she approached the man behind the counter with her father and her wife, she expected to see the usual disdain.
But for the first time since they had entered the city, there was none.
Indifference, certainly.
But nothing else.
Damn.
Even here, this kind of job apparently managed to suck the soul out of people.
Well, she didn’t have a psychology degree, so she wasn’t about to suggest a career change.
“Good morning.
How may I assist you?
We handle clan registrations.
If your matter concerns inheritance, one of my colleagues will be happy to assist you.
I am required to inform you that any attempt to murder a member of your clan or an employee of this office will result in your immediate arrest by the authorities.
The office responsible for clan dissolution is located upstairs.
In the event of bankruptcy, please note that dissolution fees will not be waived.
We therefore advise you to ensure you have sufficient funds before beginning the process.
If you wish to file a complaint regarding our services, please complete the form located next to the box mounted on the wall to your left and deposit the completed form inside.
Thank you.”
Hope, Jinx, and Klaus all turned their heads simultaneously toward the complaint box, which looked as though it was on the verge of collapsing under the weight of the forms stuffed inside.
“We’d like to register a clan,” Hope said after a moment of silence—and a surprising amount of sympathy.
She wasn’t entirely sure whether that sympathy was for the employees or for the poor souls who had taken the time to fill out all those forms.
“Very well.
Please wait a moment.”
With that, he disappeared into an adjoining room.
When he returned a few moments later, he was carrying a stack of paperwork that seemed to be half his height.
He deposited it directly into Hope’s arms.
The three of them stared at it in stunned silence.
“Okay, no, babe.
I refuse to spend the next ten years trapped in this office.
Do something!” Jinx exclaimed.
They were now seated at a table completely buried beneath paperwork.
Even her father looked as though he had somehow acquired gray hairs.
And he literally couldn’t age.
After being resurrected, Klaus had returned as a hybrid, which had been a relief.
Even if he had reactivated his werewolf side the very day he came back.
“What exactly do you want me to do?” Hope asked.
“I don’t know.
This is Piltover.
They love rich people.
Show them you have money.
Do you seriously think the Medardas filled out all of this?” Jinx replied.
Jinx had a point.
At this rate, even Hope would grow roots.
She approached the counter again, despite herself feeling slightly intimidated by the clerk’s cold stare.
“Do you need assistance?”
“Isn’t there some way to avoid filling out all this paperwork?”
“All of these forms are essential to the creation of your clan…” he began.
Exasperated, Hope made her diamond plaque appear in her hand.
Suddenly, it was as if every sound in the room had vanished.
The clerk stared at the plaque without saying a word.
Then he stood up and sprinted upstairs.
A few moments later, a woman hurried down the stairs and approached Hope.
“Excuse me, ma’am.
May I examine that plaque more closely?”
Hope placed the plaque in her hand.
The woman murmured a few words, and glowing runes appeared across the plaque.
Her eyes widened.
“Madam, I sincerely apologize for the reception you have received thus far.
Please, follow me.”
Klaus and Jinx stood to accompany Hope.
But as Jinx stepped forward, the woman looked at her with obvious disdain.
“I’m sorry, Madam, but servants are not permitted upstairs.”
Then she froze.
Slowly, she turned her head toward Hope and found herself staring into golden eyes.
Without a word, Hope removed her jacket, revealing her tattoos.
“I wasn’t aware my wife was a servant,” she said coldly.
The woman visibly trembled before immediately bowing to Jinx.
“I apologize for my mistake.
Please, follow me.
Would you care for something to drink?”
Jinx froze in horror.
Several seconds passed before she managed to answer.
“What are my options?”
Then she fell into step beside Hope and Klaus as they followed the woman upstairs.
But Hope could see from the look on Jinx’s face that she was understanding, for the first time, what it meant to be a Mikaelson.
People would respect her wife.
Or Hope would make them.
The office upstairs was more of a private lounge than an office.
Once they were seated and offered drinks, the clan registration process began.
“What is the name of the clan?”
“Mikaelson.”
“What is the clan emblem?”
Hope showed her the family crest.
“And who are the members?”
A wave of melancholy struck Hope.
There were only three Mikaelsons here.
But one day…
One day she would see the others again.
“Niklaus Mikaelson, Hope Mikaelson, and Jinx Mikaelson.”
“Will Mr.
Mikaelson be serving as clan head?”
The day before, they had discussed who would hold the position.
To her surprise, both of them had wanted her to lead the clan.
She would have expected her father to want the authority that came with the role.
After all, hadn’t he once fought to become king of New Orleans?
⸻
“If I become clan head, I’ll have to deal with these pompous bastards every day.
They aren’t vampires, witches, or werewolves.
But within a week, they’d all be dead.
This family needs someone who can play their game—and shoot them in the head when necessary.
You have your mother’s qualities and mine.
Become the queen, my littlest wolf.”
⸻
“No, Hope Mikaelson will serve as clan head.”