How Old Is Hope Mikaelson Novels & Stories

“How long have I been out?” “Two weeks.” “Two weeks! It only felt like hours to me.” “Please don’t ever do anything reckless like that again. You could’ve died!” “I’m not sorry for what I did. You would’ve died had I let the spell spread.” “You would’ve died too if it hadn’t been for the white witch, Hope. She slowed the spell down enough for you to heal on your own.” “You found her? Hope? Where is she?” “I’m sorry Haley. She died during the fight.”

Hope lets out, "I saw the execution. She looked forty-something." That’s true. Her body definitely looked eighty-seven, though. I saw it that day, when I found Farrow. When she... raped him. Argh, fucking old witch. She's lucky she's already dead. "Magic, sacrifices, eating sexual energy and using my son," Cassie lists, "That was keeping her young. She would've easily lived past one hundred and fifty. The oldest witch I know is about that age." "Well, thank god they killed her then," Hope scoffs, "So, this healer thing, what does it entail? Is it dangerous in any way for him or others?"

Hope’s first birthday was supposed to be perfect. Infact it was perfect. The backyard was decorated with balloons. The cake was carefully arranged. Luca was excited to celebrate his sister. Dante stood with Hope in his arms, the proud father. It was everything they’d been fighting for. Then a woman pulled Aria aside into the house. A woman who looked like a ghost. A woman Aria had last seen when she was seven years old, bloodied and screaming, being pulled away during the massacre.

Sharp eyes that miss nothing, compassionate yet logical and always willing to help Hope’s head snaps back toward me, and before I can react, she smacks my arm. Not hard. But pointed. “Ow,” I mutter. She glares up at me. “Why didn’t you tell me Jace has a special someone?” I blink. “What?” She jerks her chin toward Jace’s table. “Her.” Realization dawns, followed by a wince. “That. Uh. It must have slipped my mind.” She arches a brow. “Slipped your mind.” “With everything going on,” I add quickly. “Kidnappings. Councils. Wars. You know.”

"Are you sure? She's changed. She's in therapy. She's trying—" "She created a monster and spent his whole life enabling him. I don't want her anywhere near our daughter." I looked at Jamie. "I know that's harsh. But—" "I agree. Some people don't get second chances with new generations. Elena's one of them." We burned the card. --- Five years later, Hope started kindergarten. She was bright, curious, fearless. Everything I'd hoped she'd be. "Mommy, why don't I have a grandma?" she asked one night.

Six months after Ava's final goodbye, Hope sat in her mother's old office—now her office—staring at a mountain of decisions she had no idea how to make. She was twenty-five years old. She'd expected to be figuring out her own life at this age, maybe traveling, maybe still in school. Instead, she was running a multi-million dollar foundation, managing a staff of forty-seven, and trying to hold together a family that kept looking to her for answers she didn't have.

Faith chuckled sadly. "Oh really? What's her name? What's she like?" Florence asked eagerly, pulling Faith onto her unmade lavender bed, large enough to hold a whole family and then some more. "Well, her name is Hope. She is very beautiful, and sixteen years old. We are very close as our... our parents passed away a few months back, so it's just us two. Even before they passed we were very close, and apart from the occasional sleepover, we've never been apart. Now I'm locked up here for, for t-two weeks... she's going to think I abandoned her! I'm so worried about her, she is the only person I've really got in my life, and I don't want to be apart from her." Faith finishes sadly, blinking aw

he says with a smile, “She’s very responsible, and I know that she would be happy to help out if you two would like a night out together.” “You have a daughter,” Hope says, and cannot contain her surprise and happiness at the idea, “That’s wonderful! How old is she?” “She’s sixteen,” he exclaims, “And I’m very proud of her. I’d love for you all to meet her sometime!” No wonder Colin hasn’t had much time to get out socially. Being a single dad and teaching full time probably keeps him extremely busy. “I would love to meet her sometime,” Hope exclaims, “Does she share your interest in magic?”

She gulped and knocked gently at the door. No response. She did again "Who is that?" Mrs Hope called out from the inside. She bit her bottom lip before she responded in a tiny small voice. "Hannah, Hannah Spikes." She could make out her feet thumping on the floor as she approached the door and clicked it open to look down on her small girl with bulging brown eyes beneath a pair of glasses and frizzy hair. Mrs Hope was a slightly elderly woman in her late forties. Her hair was dyed black so it may be difficult for outsiders to accurately guess her age. She wore a sweatshirt and long skirts underneath pop stockings, and her hair was arranged in a bun. Her eyes were sharp and alert.

and he did. It was those days with him that Hope was born. My daughter and my blood. Hope was a hybrid. Having both the powers of a vampire and that of a witch from her grandmother; she lived by my side till the war that had us all scattered. It's been quite a long time since I last saw my family and the one who has always been here with me from the start was Lea. I have to make sure to apologize for being a little too hard on her especially since she was right.