Margaery would be lying if she didn't say that she had encountered more complications in her long life than the average person. Typically, such arose when her mother decided to fearlessly rebel against her father, craving something akin to real love - something he often times failed to provide her. Their relationship had been heavily flawed, riddled with deceit and mistrust. Nik had always claimed that he loved her but that... that was a lie. Caroline was a being that needed it - needed it more than anything - and it absolutely destroyed her to discover that the man she had married, had pledged her heart to, could not even return her affections.

But Roman had been able to.

Margaery recalled reading about the love affair in Caroline's old diaries. She possessed all of them actually, neatly stack and arranged by year in the room she had claimed within the bunker. He had treated her incredibly and she had hated having to part with him. Returning to her father had apparently been some sort of necessity and faking her death to do so had simply been part of the plan. She'd never tell that to the infamous Roman though, but she doubted she'd even have the opportunity to meet him. The love they shared had been extinguished long ago and Margaery was certain that he had faded into obscurity like every flame before him.

How silly she was to believe such as she stopped before the stranger, a frown twisting her lips. She had her mother's ring around her neck, the lapis lazuli gemstone sitting in its center glinting brightly in the morning light. She didn't think anything of it as she extended a honeyed smile in his direction, expression lighting up. [b]"Are you here to join?" She inquired lightly, flicking a tail, "My name is Margaery Mikaelson... It's nice to meet you."

Growing up, Margaery had been told countless times that she had her mother's smile, her mother's eyes. She had always agreed with them, knowing that they were right, knowing that everyone around her was relieved that she didn't resemble her father in any way. She never told them that she carried his temper though, fierce and burning and hot, wanting to devour all. No, they wouldn't like to hear that and she wasn't dumb enough to destroy the fragile peace she had created by looking so similarly to her mother. So she just smiled because she was supposed to, because when they looked at her, they wanted another Caroline, not another Nik.

She supposed she didn't think about her mother often. Not as much as her father anyways. He... he was an omnipresent force in her life, always looming over her, suffocating her. She could rarely spend a year without him interfering with her happiness in some way, shape, or form, and admittedly, the girl often times found herself wishing that it had been one of Caroline's many flings that had sired her- not Niklaus.

As she stood staring at this stranger, she struggled to understand why he was on the verge of tears. Her necklace? Her last name? Why were those things important? And then it clicked. Caroline. It had to do with Caroline. She was popular and well-respected in some way, doing things as she wanted to in brief separations from her father. Could this individual know of her?

[b]"Did you know my mother, love?" She inquired softly, feeling an unfamiliar emotion rising to the surface, "Who are you? What's your name?" Her voice hardened with every word, something akin to fear now dancing brazenly across her features. "I don't understand."

[ asfh head's up that mii and i both restarted bast and hazel so that these two are not ff ones but, since ro would have known ff hazille, we're just gonna.... pretend fate did a lil reincarnation thing that they'll never know about oops / make shit up to explain why ro would be like ?? who are these mini versions
also hi hello welcome home ! ]

Once upon a time, Bastille might have had siblings. He wasn't entirely certain what might have dictated that, frankly. He had tried to see a scenario where things weren't so grim, or he weren't the only one left from his litter: maybe if his mother had gone into labor in camp, or if someone had found them sooner, or if it weren't so hot out. There was nothing to do about Frenchie, or about his siblings who were born still: they would have died any where, he was convinced. But what about the others? The ones who died later, within hours or days? Could they have been saved if they'd been found sooner?

Often, Bastille said no. No, fate didn't work that way. Echo had been born to a dead mother with dead siblings, once: he knew that somehow, fate always would have found a way. It was funny, he thought; death had always followed Echo closely, every where he went, and it seemed that it had followed him even here, into his next life. Bast might resent his soul for it, for inevitably killing his birth family, but he'd learned that resentment was useless. It changed nothing. It was what it was.

His mother had told him about them, though. In those early months, when that little sliver of her soul stayed with him, she'd told him stories and sung in French and talked wistfully about the children she might have had, in another life. He knew their names. "I wanted the girls to be Versailles and Paris. Aren't those pretty? Versaillespalace, maybe. How darling. And the boys: British and Roman. I wonder who they'd be, one day, if they lived. Do you think we would have had a Romantemple or Romancolloseum?"

Her voice filtering through his thoughts slowly as he caught wind of this stranger's name, coming to a slow stop beside Margy. Fate was a funny thing, it would seem. Bastille could look at this stranger and wonder if his dead brother might have looked like him, had he borne the same name. Somehow he didn't think the burn marks would quite fit his mental image of the dead kitten, but it was an entertaining notion none the less.

There was tension here, however, and his ice blue stare flickered over this guy slowly before it shifted briefly to Margy. "'M Bast," he provided, feeling a flicker of interest. For a beat, he wondered why, and then realized that Grimm was intrigued. That was... not unusual, but interesting. He scrutinized this stranger a little more, as if he might detect what it was that alerted Grimm, before he added, "I take it you're sticking around?"

[b]BASTILLEPRISONER AURELIUS — ASTRAL SERAPH — THE ASCENDANTS — TAGS

For a moment, all Margaery could see was a different life. Instead of Nik, it was Roman who was her father- caring for her, raising her, loving her even when she did choose to defy him. She barely knew the stranger before her and yet she was one hundred percent confident that he would never think to sink a dagger in her chest the moment she expressed herself. Caroline would be happy too... and perhaps her relationship with her parents wouldn't have been so tattered. So beat. She could exist without the plethora of emotional baggage that the Mikaelsons provided her, living freely, living happily.

She longed for that reality- latched onto it desperately, tears forming in the corners of her eyes the more she realized that she'd never have that. Nik was after her wife and so long as he carried with him that anger, she could never even think to begin repairing the damage he had so ignorantly caused. As for her mother... she had left Margaery with far too many secrets, perhaps the biggest one standing before her. She had known of their love, but marriage? The diaries had never detailed that little fact nor had Caroline ever thought to mention it when they were still on talking terms. How could she keep something as big as her true relationship with Roman away from everyone? She didn't understand... She hadn't even got to meet the male before.

[b]"Oh." It was all she could manage for the time being, too consumed by overwhelming emotions to give him anything else. From the recesses of her mind, she could feel Genevieve growing restless. Margaery was hurt and emotional and the longer she stayed present, the worse every other facet was going to feel. She needed to take over, she needed to speak to this little secret. And surprisingly, Margaery relented, gray eyes shifting from gray to copper. Her posture changed too, the refined grace of her stance becoming more careless, though there was an underlying danger to the way she moved. Genevieve was back - though only temporarily.

"Why should I believe you, sugar? You were probably nothing more than one of Caroline's little flames. She didn't marry you... She couldn't have! She loved- Genevieve! Stop!"

Margaery was back, a frown twisting her chocolate hued lips as she shoved her counterpart back where she belonged. Not today. She was not dealing with Genevieve today. She felt better though, more in control as she gazed upon Roman. "I'm sorry... she's... I'm sorry." The tears were back now, Bast's sudden arrival doing little to comfort her. Marriage. Marriage. She couldn't believe it.

"They say I have her smile... do you see it?"

It was all she could think to ask, her voice surprisingly small and shaking. Maybe it was because she was doubting everything and needed something to ground her, some familiarity from her past. Was she really the product of a loveless marriage? A part of her had always suspected it but Roman... she was considering that possibility heavily now. The more answers she received, the more questions she had, that was for sure.

"I'm sorry... Inappropriate inquiry, I know. Welcome to the Ascendants."